Milk in Bags

For the past three weeks, I have been living in a house that gets its fridge stocked semiweekly. This might not seem like a noteworthy occasion, but for us foreigners, it’s an opportunity to discover unique tastes and products, a riveting experience unlike any other!

Okay—not quite, but you guys do have Cheez-Its which is definitely a plus.

So this is relevant because it enlightened me on one of Canada’s less-than-favorable products. One of Canada’s biggest fallbacks—other than the Maple Leaf’s record—is the placement of milk into bags.  Yes, milk in bags, it is indeed a real thing. It seems like food for astronauts, but apparently us Canucks think that encasing our milk in plastic makes for a better milk experience.

Not only does ‘milk in bags’ look weird, but it is a heck of a nuisance as well! The wrong cut could spell disaster. Too little of a cut—you’ll finish pouring milk onto your cereal by lunchtime and too big of a cut—you’re left with soggy Mini Wheat’s swimming in a liter of 2%.

Another problem with this selective packaging of dairy is that scissors and milk go hand-in-hand. Let’s just say you’ve just enjoyed the unique college delicacy of a spoonful of peanut butter with Nutella, what happens if you’re without scissors? Your throat becomes dry, tongue sticky, lips chapped…that peanut butter is not going down easily. In other words, catastrophe.

Situations like this and worse will continue to occur if Canada doesn’t make the full transition to cartons soon.  In this instance we need to stop trying to be unique and just adapt to the American way. 

That Summer Job

So after taking a relatively long hiatus from blogging due to finals, summer and general laziness, it is time for my triumphant return to the Kelly Canuck Blog! Wahoo!

As I sit here in my sophomore year living accommodation—equipped with all of the necessary living amenities such as a beanbag chair, a Siamese fighting fish and 3 seasons of the O.C.—I begin to reflect on the past summer and the week leading up to my first day as a sophomore student.

Side note—it took me about 3 days to memorize that I was a sophomore. In Canada, we say 1^st year, 2^nd year etc. so it’s a wee bit hard to get the system down pat.  Also I DID spent two whole semesters mindlessly repeating my freshman status—and I must say that that freshman label is hard to shake!

Anyways…what was I talking about? Oh right, summer.  So this summer was my third summer employed as a camp counselor at a traditional co-ed camp called Camp Wenonah. Even though this wasn’t my first summer as a counselor, I must say it was my most memorable summer yet. Perhaps as a seasoned vet, I am able to reflect more on my experience and what it truly means to be a camp counselor

It’s on rainy days like today that I begin to really miss the sitting on the dock in the Muskoka sun…

            I miss having a cabin of 10 13-year-old girls from four different countries for an entire month. Picking up probably over a 100 daddy longlegs from bunks, having to deal with an abundance of pre-teen sass and my favorite—what the nurses called “a very severe case of head lice”—(I wish I was joking)—has made me the resilient and competent person I am today.   

I miss having a cabin of 14 7-year-old girls for what seemed like a very—VERY long week.  I mean, have you ever had to climb under a cabin to convince a camper to shower not once, not twice but on three separate occasions? Another tidbit of info I’ve come to reluctantly accept is that no matter how many times you remind junior campers to go to the washroom (US translation: bathroom)—it is never EVER nearly enough times.

I decided to talk about being a camp counselor because the benefits of the experience are universal, regardless of whether you’re from ‘Murica or Canada…and more importantly I couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about.                  

Whenever someone asks me what I did this past summer and I reply with a perky “camp counselor of course!”, if that person was also involved in camp at some point in their life, regardless of nationality, their face instantly brightens. They just somehow know about the fantastic whirlwind of a summer that you’ve just endured, and how you’d do it all again in a heartbeat. 

photo credits: Jake Read

for more info see: www.campwenonah.com