Menno militia

Like the majority of the population, I'm sure, it's a challenge to find something in common with my in-laws (we're not married, but you get the idea). That said, the weekend of the visiting father-in-law was a roaring success. I was a little concerned that there would be gaping holes of awkwardness and too much unnecessary driving, but that was not the case at all. We managed to show him some real highlights of the city, take in a fringe show, avoid major chain restaurants, drink a goodly amount of beer, have interesting conversations, cook him a meal that he enjoyed and walk lots. We even got away with paying for a few things! It truly was an excellent weekend and he genuinely seemed to enjoy himself. I know he was out of his element most of the weekend but he really took it in stride. Poo on me for not giving him enough credit for having a sense of adventure.

One of the places we visited was a Mennonite heritage village. If you really want to hit the message home that you are totally helpless without the comforts of civilisation as we know it, visit this place. Like the guy who had to be a sandwich maker in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I am utterly useless. I'd love one of those old sewing machines with a foot pump, though.

There was a house there with a little room-divider thingie (that's it in the photo) that reminded me of the old entrance to my grandparents' hotel in Ireland, which was painted white and blue, I think, and had a huge brass knob in the middle of it. I have a memory of arriving in the town they lived in one night in the rain. I must have been about six. I remember seeing that door and feeling just so happy to be there. It forever sticks out in my mind as happiness. Looking at the picture now I don't really know why it brought that memory to mind because they aren't all that similar.

I like doors, especially old ones.