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OCIOBER 2003 WammetmunidpalelediononmehOMMtakeaioumeybacktoa mmmmmmmdMMuw mummlmmmmmmmwsflmmw macrkhdaawbrdaehhndmundflorfiedfimbemmoseinmebadtmw arenotidenfified.alflmughmegenflamninfl1ecenmkflwugmmbePS.Legge. Wewouldbvemhearfmnreadetsmcanidenfiiymeteminingmembersof thegroup. Pleasephonethemuseumat 1-888â€"290-0337. 644% to Serve. You 6mm in Stouflviue Illslotlc photo suhmluod courtesy of Whflchurch-Stouflvllle Museum Drs. McDowell and Genin Optometrists 905 642-3937â€" 'Sometlmes with seaet pride I sigh/r0 think how tolerant am l;/Then wonder which Is really mlnell‘oleranoe. or a mbber spine?" As I climb into the car and reset ithe'radio-u again -- l ponder on whether this is the end of civilization as we know it, or simply a new version of the extended fami- ly. So far. i'm enloying the return of our children, but I can't help recalling the words of my poetic muse. Ogden Nash: Nostalgia for family togetherness is undergoing a rigorous reality check, but we're all still speaking to each other and culinary standards have shot up. thanks to my son. who loves to experiment in the kitchen. The only problem with having a res- identthef is that the better the food, the more utensils required to render it divine, and it has always been a rule in this household that the cook shall not be expected to participate in post-prandlal mopping-up operations. The kitchen counter sports stacks of mail, little mounds of receipts for the tax- person. and used envelopes Inscribed with vital telephone numbers and scrawled reminders of things to do and people to call. Strangled cries of 'Has anyone seen my keys/purse/Discman/glasses?’ accompany our morning coffee as the offspring set off for the office/job site, Mr. Wallethead crams his golf clubs into Basil ii, and i stagger upstairs for another Invigorating day at the keyboard. Our bookshelves, already bursting at the seams, have been augmented with scholarly tracts; Western Civilization Since l300 and Crosscunenis: Contemporary Political issues (3rd edition) are flanked by Bridget lones's Diary and Rumpole Rests His Case. The laundry basket runneth over and the clarion call of our daughter's cellphone rever- berates around the house as she rummages through piles of clothing in an attempt to locate and answer it. With three vehicles and two garage spaces, we take it in turns to‘play car iockey. We no longer rush to answer the phone, because we know that it is almost certainly not for one of us. Meanwhile Spasm, our lovable, mentally-challenged kitty. is havâ€" ing a field day burrowing into plastic garbage bags filled with beddinghodd socks and Christmas card collections dating back to I999. The other morning Mr. Wallethead rolled over sleepin and switched on the radio to be greeted by a wall of white noise, in place of the usual well-modulated tones of Tom Allen calmly announcing the imminent approach of news, weather and sports on CBC Radio 2. They're changing channels at Chateau Gilderdale and our gentle descent into geezerdom has been stopped in its tracks as Mozart and Massive Attack iostle for supremacy in the tiny, perfect confines of the family homestead. Our basement now contains two microwaves, two televisions, several boxes filled with motley assortments of stuff including an iron. mismatched saucepans, an encrusted sandwich maker. a raft of instant hot chocolate in singleâ€"sewing envelopes and six months' supply of Kraft Dinner. Owing to a critical lack of storage space. a hefty black tabletop is tucked behind the dining room door, and we have enough CD players between us to stock a local branch of Future Shop. lust when you thought it was safe to convert your offspring's bedroom into an office or guest room, you are assailed by the roar of the U-Haul and the patter of full- size feet. if babies are the latest must-have accessory for Gen-Xers, then housing ex- babies is'the new black for the boomer generation. Hi mummy. we're home. MOLLER INSURANCE‘ An echo of our former selves 64 Sandlfom Drive, Unlt1, STOUFFVILLE l-Ibme *7 Auto 'WHITCHURCH-STOUFFVILLE THIS MONTH" - 7 ‘la carte