Introducing Graceland North.

My parents are attempting to build a house on 2 acres of land near Portland Ontario. It’s been a long, arduous process which has taken four summers now. Thursday, they finally broke ground with an approved blueprint and the blessings of Parks Canada (or the Lake Nazis as my father calls them) and we were there!

Here are the first shots of our new as-of-yet-unamed house (I’m leaning towards “Graceland North”):

Note the awesome view of the Big Rideau Lake in the left photo, and the trailer in the background on the right. That trailer has been their home since we sold our house in Marlboro in 2000, and I for one am extremely excited to have a house – or even a muddy pit as the case may be. OK. As the case is – back in the family once again.

And let’s talk about my father’s new glasses for a moment. We spent the weekend calling him a mix of Corrado Soprano (left) and Bubbles (right) and he gleefully posed (in character, mind you) for both photos.

Speaking of Bubbles, I now have my little British cousin, Josh – thoroughly addicted to Trailer Park Boys. We watched every episode of seasons 1 & 2. And the outtakes. And the deleted scenes. Then we just stared at the DVD case for a while. I may have an obsession. But there are worse things to be obsessed with. Like clown porn, for example.

A more healthy obsession of mine has got to be garlic. I’ve loved it since I was old enough to say the word, and when our neighbors and longtime friends Steve and Judy (who own a beautiful house just down the road from our bomb crater) suggested we take a trip to the Perth Garlic Festival on Saturday, I was in the car faster than you can say “Sweet mother of God, what is that awful garlicky stink?”

When we paid our $5 and got inside, I noticed an abundance of chip wagons – and knew there must be poutine in the vicinity. Chalk up another new vice for Josh. But it’s hardly surprising since he’s used to English food and I’ve seen him go nuts for boullion cubes. After we “shared” an order (notice him murdering a few forkfulls on the left while Janet makes a strange face in the background) I got my own and kept him at bay with threats of grevious bodily harm. Then, the fever spread and Janet got herself a batch which Josh then proceeded to pilfer. The two of them were lucky enough to get their picture taken with “Clovey”, the festival mascot. It’s good to see Clovey back on the garlic circuit after his well publicized battle with heroin, which I’m not going to retread here.

It was also my parent’s 38th wedding anniversary this past weekend, and Steve and Judy hosted a wonderful Retsina/Port/Merlot/Champagne fueled dinner which was more fun than I’ve had in a while.

After dessert was cleared away, my parents shared conflicting accounts of the night they met. My mother’s version involves a city called “Fruitland“, a sock hop and another man. My father’s spin features cutting someone off in his Plymouth, student nurses and guarding a case of beer with his life. The line that went on to win my mothers’ heart?: “If I give you a beer, will you shut up?” My sister and I agreed – our conceptions were the holiest of miracles.

We wrapped up the trip with a good old-fashioned camp fire for which Janet and Josh went out in search of S’More fixings. Unable to find the traditional graham crackers and Hershey bars, they improvised with chocolate chip cookies and Aeros. I got a cavity just watching them try to slap them together once their marshmallows were roasted. And insanely jealous as well as fatter.

The swimming, the boating, the holiday hijinks – it’s all over for another summer. But I dare not shed a tear, as I know that next summer Graceland North will be in full effect. And I won’t have to worry about sleeping on an outhouse floor to get away from mosquitos. That’s artistic license, of course, as I stayed in a comfy bed at Steve and Judy’s and the closest I came to roughing it was watching 48 Hours in French.