Your Drippy Yellow Mystery Sauce is Like Homemade Heaven

Dear Homemade Fish Burger,

Your toasty outer shell of steak bun delight is like a melty crunchy carb heaven. Your mayo is spread ever so delicately, oozing into every crevice. Your drippy yellow mystery sauce is like homemade heaven, and kraft cannot do you justice. Everyone knows that true mouth-watering tartar sauce is made by your sweet caring mother with the random contents of the fridge.

The sweet crispy lettuce gives you just the right touch of green watery delight. Your perfectly balanced bread crumbs encrusting you in a warm swaddle much like a newborn babe protects your flakey flesh goodness. Fresh haddock is your name, and deliciousness is your game.

Ode to the most underrated of all suppertime meals. You are perfect in every way.  

Sincerely, 

Your Biggest Fan 

“Did he just say Chicago?” “No he said Shag Harbour."

So it’s no secret I come from a hilariously small town with insanely hickish people. As always, we reinforce the stereotype of weird rural accents and localized slang. I wrote about this a bit before in my rural vs. city post but I’m just going to elaborate because it’s fun.

I took boyfriend home this weekend for mother’s day because, according to my mom, “He doesn’t have a mom.” I called mom to ask if Ryan could come down for the weekend and she said, no joke, “What? It’s mother’s day, why would he come here.. ohh wait ya he doesn’t have a mom. Of course he can come.” In reality his mother is in Saskatchewan, not dead, like my mother implied if anyone else had been listening in.

Anyways, we went home and dad was in full work mode because a truck was coming in that had to be unloaded. And he talks so fast and uses so much slang that any outsider would have thought it was another language. Oh wait, someone was there. Boyfriend. I asked him if he understood anything and he said he got the gist. “Did he just say Chicago?” “No he said Shag Harbour."

In true small town fashion dad said Boyfriend needed to work for his supper and took him down to the plant to unload the truck. He met Robert, an old trucker who’s about 65 years old and apparently trucks because he’s bored as hell of retirement. Boyfriend could barely understand either of them but somehow managed to unload a truck full of lobsters into a tank without falling in and drowning.

After the lobsters were safely in their second to last final resting place, we went to the local bar to catch the back end of the hockey game.  I had neglected to bring him to the bar scene, or anywhere in general, in my hometown other than the beach because I truly did not know how he would think of me and my town once he saw the real grit-of-the-earth locals.

I pointed out the local talk spot, aka Swain’s Garage, where everyone parks their trucks they can’t afford, or their super ghetto cars that they think are the shit. We headed down to Dooleys that isn’t Dooleys anymore but no one says the real name because no one knows what you’re talking about. Small towners don’t like change. 

There was about 25 people in the bar, I knew 99% of them of course, and only the true Bruins fans stuck it out to the end. As the excitement built, the people got louder, the slang got worse, and the accent got thicker.

By the end of it Boyfriend couldn’t understand a word but he got the feeling of excitement. I just think it’s hilarious that we have this localized accent that no one else seems to have.

My friend in University msn’d me and said I thought you were behind me one day in class, then I remembered you lived in Ottawa so I knew it couldn’t be you. I heard your voice and accent so perfectly I knew she had to know you. Sure enough it was my cousin and neighbour, also former babysitter, sitting behind her. It just struck me as so funny that our accent is not only recognizable, but unique.

So I say live proud, live loud all you Barringtoner’s, Capies, Cockawitters, and wherever else in between. We may be the last of a generation with our own made up words, and weird Irishy, Bostony, Hicky accents. 

Who knows, maybe we’ll take over the world and show everyone how to shuck a proper lobster (something dad also made Boyfriend do) and how to back a large truck out of a seemingly impossible wharf corner.   

Ottawa, Halifax, Home, Halifax, School

It's been a fast and furious couple of days. On Friday morning I left my wonderful friends Christina and James and headed back to the beautiful East Coast.

Friday morning I was picked up by the one and only Boyfriend, who long story short, tricked me and attacked me with a behind-hug and I screamed/swore so loud I tainted small children around me.

Ryan helped me move into the apartment and I fell in love with the apartment. It's beautiful AND kitteh friendly!

On Saturday I help Beth move out of residence. I got to see my momma, little sissa, big sissa, papa, and KITTEHS all in one day!

Sunday was a flurry of Easter, mom's birthday, cottage, little cousins, big cousins, and all my grandparents. And I got to see Mal and Seth, my favourite couple in the world!!

Monday morning 5am is french toast time apparently. Dad and I bonded over fried bread, corn syrup, and nutella.

Now, momma and I are en route back to the big H for another semester of schooling. Wish me luck.

The End :3 

Rural Nova Scotians vs. Haligonians

I’ve spent a few years in Halifax now, so I think I can make a few comparisons. Even though these are from my own experiences, feel free to share your own.

PS, I know these are stereotypes, and I don’t really care. They’re all basically true no matter what your specific situation may say. This is for the masses.

Rural Nova Scotians are known for being relaxed, easy going, and  they don’t take like too seriously. City folks are a little faster paced, abrasive, maybe a little ruder. But, if you mess with someone from a rural area you will get your ass kicked by everyone and their grandmother, and a city person will just let it roll off their shoulders.

When someone knocks on a rural door we’re going to assume that you’re a stranger and we’ll think it’s pretty odd if we actually know you. When someone knocks on a city door it’s probably their grandparents, who called ahead, and you were aware they were coming hours in advance.

Boyfriend made fun of me for not knocking when we were out visiting my friends and such and I said, “That’s not true, I knock almost everywhere I go now!” He said “Yeah, only because you try the doorknob first.”

Rural dwellers will also think it’s odd if you ask them for something from your fridge. We’re not your maid, get it yourself. If you open a city fridge it’s almost like you’re invading their privacy and their deepest secrets. Also, rural fridges are full. City fridges are not.
Rural Nova Scotians love food, there is absolutely no denying that. Almost every function revolves around food. But they only love the food they grew up with; fish, rabbit, duck, deer, potatoes, carrots, stew, etc. City people are more open to different cultures, different food, and of course more things in moderation.

When someone moves in the country they have all the necessary equipment: trucks, furniture (from every member of your family) and free labour including painting and decorating. When someone moves in the city you need: a u-Haul, a trip to the furniture store, and about 4 days to do it all yourself.

Also, you never know your neighbour in the city but in a small town you know everyone’s business and they know yours. I asked Boyfriend if I could bring a batch of cookies to my neighbours and he said I could but then I’d be the weird girl trying to poison everyone. My nanny came home to unmarked wrapped meat in a plastic bag on her door handle and she had it for supper that night. It turned out to be deer. She lived.

*Update: Boyfriend says that in suburban areas of Dartmouth they’ll have block parties and bbq’s and your neighbours don’t care if you run across their lawn or play street hockey in front of their house.

When someone wants to go to university from the country it’s a big effing deal, and you should probably get praised and asked about it every time you go home. They probably won’t make it all the way and they’ll end up on the water anyway but it’s the thought that counts. When someone goes to university in the city it’s the next natural step in life and they go on to do wonderful things.

We went to my sisters university graduation (I won’t name which but it’s not hard to figure out) and she was the only one from her high school class to graduate on time. The only one. We triple check and she went to two high schools. That’s pretty sad.

Rural Nova Scotians are willing to drive an hour or more just to visit friends, go to a party, go to a movie, go shopping etc. And they never walk anywhere. It’s normal to see a car with 300,000 clicks or more. For city people it pains them to drive 10 clicks out of their way, and if they can walk there they will. And when the odometer runs over 100,000 clicks it’s the end of the world.

When someone from the country tries to tell someone where they live they’ll probably say something like “Yeah when you see the store on your left slow down, you’ll go over a hill and there a log pile on your right and it’s the long driveway after that.” Side note: this is actually how I tell people to get to my house. When someone from the city tells someone where they live they’ll give street names, house numbers, unit numbers, apartment numbers, buzzer numbers, and whatever else super specific directions they’ll need.

Rural Nova Scotians have their own unique slang. You’ll often year sentences like, “Who’s boy am ya? Who’s your dad? Let’s go get a big mug up at the fish shack. I need a Dan’s mug up! Let’s take a tour and have a yarn in my new wag. Yeap like the fella said. Ain’t no way son! Com’on LIKE! Eh? Hiyi! Das say son. I could go on all day but I won’t. The most common slang you’ll here in the city is ebonics. This isn’t offensive, I looked it up.

Rural women typically like “Hungry Men” (see Jade Malone’s full definition http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Hungry%20Man&defid=5714458). And Haligonians love a variety of rural, city, foreign, and the like.

A truck is a thing of pride in rural Nova Scotia and we can and will make fun of your low riding city cars when they can’t make it up our driveways without bottoming out. That being said, city people can make fun of us for filling up a $150 tank and it only lasting us a few days.

Well that’s all I can think of for now, but feel free to comment and leave your own! I’ll probably update it as this blog progresses.
The End :3
 
 
 

Animal Family Tree

The Nickerson Family Animal, and Other Special Occurances, Timeline

Dinner time is a family affair :3 From back to front: Smudgie, Figaro, Cooper

1985 – Joel & Christine get married, Sandy (dog) born 1980, Little Tee (cat) died same year

1986 - Dusty (cat)

1987 – Vanessa is born

1988

1989

1990 – Joelle is born, Sandy died

1991- Frisky (cat), Dusty is missing in action

1992 – Beth is born, Spot (dog)

1993- Mittens (cat), Pepper (cat)

1994

1995 – Babe (dog) Frisky died, Spot died

1996

1997

1998

1999 – Muffin Sugar Frosting (cat) Chloe (cat), Pepper is missing in action

Muffin :3

2000 – Peaches (hamster)

2001

2002 – Gizmo (cat) died the same year, Mischief (cat) died the same year, Peaches died

2003 – Figaro (c) (d. 2010), Jimmy (rabbit), Cotton Ball (rabbit), Chloe is missing in action

Me and my baby Figaro! <3

2004- Mittens died, Jimmy & Cotton Ball died

2005 

2006 – Martha (cat) died the same year, Bear (cat) , Hank (cat) 2007 , Fluffy (cat) died the same year, Smudgie (cat), Babe died

Smudgie likes: bags, baskets, sinks 

dislikes: cuddles, every other animal except Muffin

2007- Hank died

2008- Bear is missing in action

2009 – Cooper the Trooper aka Fatty, Faggot, etc. (cat), Cleo (dog)  

Fatty and Cleo were besties from the start 

2010 – Duke (dog), Special Agent Jack Bauer aka Willow (cat), Norge aka Pussy Willow (cat), Duchene (cat) missing in action, Wolfgang aka Patty (cat) outside cat

                                          Duke!                     Baby kitties Norge, Wolfgang, Duchenne          

Beautiful Willow aka Mama aka SAJB

2011- Duke died, Current count: Muffin, Cooper, Willow, Pussy Willow, Smudgie, Patty is an outside cat (half wild), Cleo (with Vanessa)

That's a grand total of 21 cats and 5 dogs!

Almost every animal we’ve had we’ve either gotten from the SPCA, the streets, or from neighbours who could no longer afford their animal, or their animal got unexpectedly pregnant. The only animal we’ve had that was pregnant was Martha, but she came to us in the late stages of her pregnancy.

We always get our animals fixed, we always encourage people to fix their animals, and we do not encourage animal breeders, puppy mills, etc.

Side note: We’ve had various fish, one Siamese fighting fish, Coral, I had for 3 years, but you don’t really form attachments to fish when you have a literal farm around your ankles. Also, the more we grow up the more animals we seem rescue.

PLEASE spay and neuter your animals. Rescue homeless animals adopt from the SPCA and the humane society. Stray animals are good animals, if they’re not wild, not dangerous, and just a little dirty, they only need some love and they’ll be the best pet you’ve ever had (example: every pet we’ve had!). 

 The eff?