FlyOver Canada

For a while now, I’ve been hearing about the “FlyOver Canada” ride at Canada Place (Vancouver, BC). They’ve run ads on the radio and plastered flyers around town but until recently, I’ve never actually considered checking it out. I’ll be the first to admit that I avoided this attraction for the sole reason that I’m a bit of a flight snob.

Four years ago, with the bare minimum of 200 flight hours to my name, I earned my commercial pilots license. I saw the Rockies up close and personal as I tipped my wings past dazzling lakes and snow capped mountains. Flying from Regina to Three Hills with my night rating, I watched the sun set in flaming beauty and saw the glow of summer forest fires shimmering against the distant night sky. I’ve flown around the Lower Mainland, with mountains on one side, ocean on the other and the city below. I’ve caught a glimpse of the Northern lights from inside my little cockpit and touched down as far north as Yellowknife.

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Date Night: Rollerskating

Usually, I consider myself a pretty good skater. I grew up on the ice and spent a fair number of Saturday’s wheeling around the neighbourhood on a pair of inline rollerblades. So, finding myself wobbling around the rink, clutching at the sideboards, was a new experience for me.

A couple weeks ago, Andreas and I persuaded the grandparents to babysit our wee one (doesn’t take much to persuade them) and headed out on a date. We try to make date night a monthly occurrence and are always looking for fun, new ideas. That’s why I was so excited when we were given a Groupon for Christmas: two passes for an evening of rollerskating at Central City Arena in Surrey.

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Date Night: Escape Rooms

While walking through a Paris neighbourhood, we were suddenly accosted by an armed man. A friend was grabbed and unless we could get our hands on a specific piece of artwork, the thug would kill her. Locked in the museum, our little band of eight had a mere forty-five minutes to crack a safe, find the painting and get ourselves out of there. At least… that was the given scenario.

For my husband’s 25th birthday, we gathered a group of eight friends and headed to Richmond to participate in an increasingly popular activity: Escape Rooms.

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The Littlest Van Fan

Not going to lie – this post is pretty much just shameless promotion of my hubby’s ridiculously amusing “New Van Fan” videos. Can you believe they’re already in Season 3? (This means that if you haven’t seen their video’s before, you’re in luck because there are 19 videos to catch up on!) Better get your mini bowls of popcorn ready!

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Swedish Pizza

In our house (following a tradition that dates back to my husband’s childhood) every Friday night is PIZZA NIGHT. And now, with this recipe, you can kick off your weekend the right way too.

I call it “Swedish pizza” but really, it derives its name from the fact that my husband and his family are so proud of their Scandinavian birthright that anything they touch turns Swedish. (My husband is like the Greek father in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” – according to Andreas, just about everything comes from Sweden. Seatbelts, Angry Birds, dynamite… you name it…)

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Slow-cooker Chili & 30 Minute Rolls

Yep… this non-cook is trying to cook again.

It’s a well known fact that my sister is the best baker and cook in the family. Flakey bread that melts in your mouth, chocolatey cupcakes with expert piping, hearty bowls of Alfredo laden pasta, gooey raisin oatmeal cookies, creamy vegetable soups and sugary cinnamon buns – she can make it all! I on the other hand, inherited none of that passion or skill for working with food. A particular spaghetti incident (think flaming noodles) cast me out of the kitchen at the young age of fourteen and left me with no desire to return.

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A New Year

This time last year, my husband was standing on a rocky beach in White Rock, waiting to dash into the freezing Pacific Ocean for an annual “Polar Bear Swim.” My family and I stood a few feet away from a swimsuit clad crowd who were busy dancing around, trying to stay warm while waiting for the signal to dive in. A horn sounded without warning and confusion reigned as towels and sweatpants were tossed aside. Leading the way was a tall, red headed, Swede (he prefers to be called Viking Warrior). A couple hundred thrill seekers splashed in after him, paramedics on the standby, and my family giggled from the warmth of our winter coats as everyone scrambled to get back out of the ocean.

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