Arborg’s Quaint, Not Different – The Vibe Of A Small Town

Small towns are underrated, and they’re often stereotyped.

My hometown of Arborg is quaint and unique – and cute. Maybe that’s too far. No, I think cute is accurate.

Arborg is cool. Maybe it’s our vibe. Or our constant stream of socials and gatherings.

Whether you were raised in Arborg, or you visited family or competed here in a sporting event, you noticed there’s something you can’t put your finger on.

Arborg’s different without being strange. We’re cool without being cocky. And we’re kind without being fake.

I love Winnipeg. With its history  and the Exchange District. Its downtown, and its Charleswood. But when I returned from Edmonton, I gravitated back home.

And home was Arborg.

And some things never change:

  1. Our postal code. It’s “R ‘Oh’ C, ‘Oh’ A ‘Oh’ ” because saying “R-zero-C, zero-A-zero is bizarre.
  2. We like coffee. We like Chicken Chef. And we like to go for coffee at 3 p.m. Every. Day.
  3. If you call a wrong number, chances are that person knows the person you’re trying to call. Hold on, because chances are they’ll give you the correct phone number too.
  4. Pothole season is one day.
  5. Construction season is two weeks at the most.
  6. If four vehicles come to a four-way stop, no one moves and…
  7. There’s one four-way stop in town.
  8. Chances are if you forget to lock your doors at night, you’ll survive.
  9. Chances are if you forget to lock your doors at night, you have a means of protection in the house. (We’re friendly, but we’re not we have our limits.)
  10. Everyone either knows everyone, or we know someone who knows someone else who is knows the person you’re talking about. Got it?
  11. Almost everyone owns either a: 1) snowmobile; 2) motorcycle; 3) ATV; 4) black or white vehicle; or 5) vintage vehicle
  12. It’s not a “garage” or “workplace.” It’s a “shop.”
  13. When entering the Arborg Co-op, account for visiting time.
  14. It’s common to see tractors, ATVs, and lawnmowers driving down streets – usually heading towards Main Street .
  15. We’ve had a rivalry with another town for over 70 years. Few people know the reason.
  16. If people don’t know how to find Arborg, we give them directions starting from Gimli.
  17. We have our own Starbucks. It’s called Ria Foods. And, no, they don’t have the Unicorn Frappuccino.
  18. The Arborg Bakery increases the town’s population on Saturdays.
  19. Chances are most people over 40 years old either shopped or heard of the Craft Post, Juna’s Footwear, Deren’s Hardware, Stardust Motel, and Workforce Fashions. Legendary stores that no longer exist, but the memories are passed down to younger generations.
  20. Same with JD’s, a restaurant which served the “Arburger” in the 1980s.
  21. We’re called Arborgians. Although Arborger has a nice ring.

I Owned My Birthday – And It Was Perfect

Hnausa Dock, Manitoba. A little “Titanic” re-enactment.

My birthday was the best.

I didn’t enjoy my birthday last year. Turing 40 didn’t bother me. The day was fun but it didn’t go as planned.

However, 41? It was perfect. Breakfast in bed. Lunch in bed. I didn’t leave my bed until 2:30 p.m.

I revamped any plans my husband made with no apologies. Before we left the house, I took fifteen minutes to decide what to wear. Spend another thirty minutes on my hair. I decided I wasn’t going to rush. It was my birthday.

Too often, people forget their birthday is about them. They’re caught up in the, “Oh, you planned this for me, and this, and this.” And they’re so exhausted from going place to place, they forget whose birthday they’re celebrating.

The day is about the person celebrating their birthday.

This year, I didn’t have two surprise parties. I love seeing my friends, but not when I’m exhausted from working. This year, I didn’t pretend to enjoy myself in a casino. Why a casino? No idea. I was told they were taking me somewhere with an ice cream bar, and I didn’t ask questions.

But that’s the mistake. Remember when we were little? People would ask, “What do you want for your birthday?” We knew. Nine times out of 10, we knew. Clothes, perfume, makeup, CDs, gift cards, etc. As grown ups, we’re vague. Don’t be vague. Especially women. Be direct.

If you want to spend the day eating a gluten-free Reuben in bed – like I did – say, “I want to spend it in bed – alone.” Or if you want to go on a trip with friends, then go on a trip with friends. If you want to spend your birthday with family or have a huge party, then go for it.

Because your birthday is about you, and it should be your choice how you spend the day.

After all, it is called your birthday.

The Man-Cold – It’s Not Just For Men

I feel fuzzy.

I have a cold. Most often, I can dodge colds and the flu. When I’m sick, I can shake it off after two or three days.

Regardless of how long, when I’m sick, I’m not just sick. It’s the “Man-Cold.”

The Man-Cold is a blanket term for men and women who whine like a puppy left in a kennel when they’re sick. Because we’re sick. And it’s icky.

Day one? The Man-Cold crept in:

“Oh, this is how it ends,” I said, followed by a house shaking cough. “I’ll never finish my novel or see the Alamo.”

“You never wanted to see the Alamo,” said my husband.

“That’s not the point.”

On day two, I was convinced there wouldn’t be a day three. Surely, one shouldn’t feel such ickiness. My joints ached. My nose was red. My eyes. Where were my eyes? My sinuses were so puffy, I looked like a hollowed out pumpkin. My throat felt like a cat used my tonsils as a scratching post. I lay on the couch, staring at Pinterest. I’m sure at that point I was delirious with a pending fever. Pinning sewing ideas when I have no idea how to spin a bobbin.

My husband walked into the living, smirking when he saw me. Pumpkin cheeks, red rose, surrounded by a mountain of tissues.

“What do you want for lunch?”

With the last of my energy, I said, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, then salmon.”

“Almond butter sandwich. Cut into fours. Crusts cut off … please.”

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