Life: On the Rocks

When I was four years old I started going to kindergarten at Churchill School in Ottawa, Ontario. The kindergartners had their own playground separate from the "big kids", but since my sister was in an older grade, I would sneak over to their yard see her all the time. The teachers didn't seem to mind, but they would keep an eye on me all the same. One of my sister's friends, a boy who was three years older than me, would always play fight with me. I'd come at him with my tiny fists and weak little toddler arms and he would act like I was actually hurting him. He made me feel cool and tough in front of all the other big kids and I loved the attention he gave me. Then one day he didn't come to school. When I couldn't find him I figured that everyone in the big kids yard knew our game and would play along with me in the same way. I punched another boy, but he did not pretend like I had hurt him. He did not clutch his arm and say "Owwwww you got me!...

I recently had a conversation with someone who I played against in little rocks that went something like this: Him: "You were a really good skip. You were the only girl who ever beat me." Me: "We played against each other in little rocks? I'm so sorry, I don't remember." I don't know why, but I can't remember very much from my years as a little rocker. There are small flashes of memories, but not much else. Except for one game. It was the 2000/2001 season and my last year of little rock age eligibility. I had no problem beating any of the kids in the little rock program and so I had been introduced to bantams a year early. The bantam program is for kids aged 12-16 and is the official introduction to "real" curling. You graduate from the plastic little rocks to playing with a set of 42lbs official granite stones. It was a step up and more challenging for me, which I loved. I couldn't wait to be a grown-up curler. One day, all...

I grew up in a curling club. Before I was old enough to throw a rock, I would spend countless hours at the Granite Curling Club of West Ottawa playing with my Polly Pockets under the trophy case while my parents were out on the ice. When they were done, I would squeeze an extra chair around their table, helping myself to their snacks and hot chocolate, absorbed in my own little world and paying very little attention to the conversation going on around me. When my older sister started to play, I was insanely jealous and I suddenly developed an all-consuming interest in the sport. With a 3-year age gap between us, I looked up to my big sister with stars in my eyes. I wanted to do everything she was doing - wear the same clothes, play the same games, have the same friends... a phase of our lives that I'm sure she found irritating to no end. I didn't understand why she didn't want her tag-along little sister hanging around and imitating her every move for every moment of ...