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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Measure (01/10/13)

TITLE: Bi-Border Disorder
By Lori Dixon


I am a unique person in an interesting situation. You see, Iím bi-border.

Not to be confused with bipolar. Not that thereís anything wrong with that. My doctor and two of my best friends are bipolar. But I digress.

To clarify, I live and work five minutes north of the US-Canadian border. However, I shop, visit friends, and attend church functions several times a week south of the border. This arrangement is riddled with both pros and cons requiring me to adjust my thinking back and forth several times a day.

For instance, a favorite family recipe from our American church cookbook is written with imperial measurements but my cups are in metric. Every Thanksgiving I stand in my kitchen covered in flour, ranting over how many millilitres of evaporated milk equals eight ounces. A sane person would of course work this out once, marking down the correct conversions, but we are talking about me here. Even if I wanted to take the rational route and record the measurements, itís become part of the childrenís tradition to hear me fuss over my dilemma. They find it amusing to watch me unravel. Who am I to disappoint?

Then thereís the car. One minute Iím heading south going a cool seventy-five kph but once I cross the mysterious forty-ninth parallel, Iím expected to focus on the teeny numbers etched beneath the larger ones and drop it down to forty mph. I wear distance glasses in Canada to take in the wide open spaces, but then switch to progressives in the US in order to read the microscopic speedometer. Two countries . . . two sets of specs.

In fact, coping with this disorder means keeping multiples of several thingsóbeyond just my eyeglasses and personalities. Take my wallet for instance. In an attempt to keep things orderly, it includes separate currency compartments for both sets of bills and change. When told how much I owe, I have been known to ask clerks what country Iím in. Sad thing is, theyíre so used to me now, they donít even react to my bizarre behaviour.

So why do I bother? Who on earth would choose to live a bi-border existence? Why not just pick a country and stick to it? Ah, as I said, there are bonuses to this arrangement! As a Can-American I can boast that I am 64 inches tall and weigh only 63 kilograms. Doesnít that sound . . . wonderful?

God bless our lands!

Author's note: True story. This IS my crazy bi-border life . . . and I love it!

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This article has been read 239 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Bonnie Bowden 01/17/13
Your title loured me in and the story didn't disappoint. Thanks for a good laugh, especially about the height and weight.
Barbara Lynn Culler01/18/13
Oh that must be confusing- kind of like speaking two languages!
C D Swanson 01/22/13
Clever title, and cute story. Nice job.
God bless~
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 01/22/13
This is a great tale. It had me smiling as I read it. Another think you could have mentioned is the spelling difference. North of the border it's colour but South there is no u. I was going to try to think of a cute pun but my brain is too tired so instead I'll just say kudos on s job well done.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 01/24/13
Congratulations on ranking ninth in level 3 and 39 overall! :-)