You’ve seen my lists. You’re wondering how I have time to post. Well, here’s an interesting conversation I had with my nieces Kaitlin (9) and Leona (7) after I picked them up at the train.
K: Is there anything for us to DO at your house?
Me: Well, we’re really busy cleaning and getting ready for our holiday.
K: Can we help?!
L: I get to do the bathroom!!!
K: Awww.
Me: Don’t worry, girls. We have two bathrooms.
They had a minor conflict over who got to do the bigger bathroom.
I’m totally serious about this.
They then fetched and carried for me all through the rest of the day. The result: I sit here, writing this post, waiting for take-out dinner to arrive, listening to the Barenaked Ladies ‘Barenaked for the Holidays.’ Just a second. I have to get some egg nog.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Industrial revolution
I love lists. Even at our other times of the year, I have all sorts of lists going. Things to do, things to make, things to buy, things to retrieve from storage, things for Steve to do. But Christmas is definitely a stellar opportunity for list creation.
For you, a list of all my current lists:
For you, a list of all my current lists:
- Christmas presents that must be completed before we travel to P.G. next week.
- Household tasks that must be completed before we travel to P.G. next week. This list is bigger than normal because we have friends (whom we've never met) from our church staying at our house when we're gone.
- Miscellaneous tasks to complete before leaving town (job application, GST payment, filing, write lesson plan for teaching grade sevens how to write a communication plan)
- List for houseguests of where to find things and numbers to call if anything floods or blows up while we're away.
- Repeat of (3) for tenant.
- What we each need in P.G. (3 lists)
- What we need to take in the car for trip.
- Groceries we need for this weekend, with brother & sister-in-law as houseguests.
- Baking we'll do Saturday, and corresponding ingredients needed.
- Decorations and food to take to Sunday Christmas party for my church's ESL class.
- Christmas presents, and corresponding supplies, that we can finish in P.G.
- People we have to get in touch with in P.G. to arrange visits (including my brother, Mike re: karaoke!!!).
- Things I should be doing (instead of posting this entry) before guests arrive in one hour.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Swipper feef
Noah appears at my bedside, gleefully shouting, “Swipper feef! Swipper feef!”
In my advanced state of grogginess, I respond, “What?”
He replies, “You mean ‘pardon me’, Mama.”
Chastened, I try again. “Pardon me?”
He repeats, with same level of animation, “Swipper feef! Swipper feef!”
Now he’s laughing so hard, he’s almost falling over. “SWIPPER FEEF!” he yells, and points at his feet.
He’s wearing my slippers, which have been … mysteriously absent … for two days.
Crime report: Burnaby. Slipper thief on the rampage.
In my advanced state of grogginess, I respond, “What?”
He replies, “You mean ‘pardon me’, Mama.”
Chastened, I try again. “Pardon me?”
He repeats, with same level of animation, “Swipper feef! Swipper feef!”
Now he’s laughing so hard, he’s almost falling over. “SWIPPER FEEF!” he yells, and points at his feet.
He’s wearing my slippers, which have been … mysteriously absent … for two days.
Crime report: Burnaby. Slipper thief on the rampage.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
December weekend
Friday:
- have tiny (benign non-health-threatening) cyst removed under local anaesthetic
- discover that surgeon’s reassurance of minimal pain is remarkably untrue
- consume a panoply of painkillers, administered by able and sympathetic nurse, Steve
- drowsily watch Troy
- go to bed without brushing or flossing (I'm sure that will alarm those of you who are aware of my pathological oral hygiene)
Saturday:
- repeatedly try to get out of bed, but find am unable to defeat gravity
- finally rouse through promise of food and more pain meds
- begin to feel better, and contemplate shower
- make list of baking projects and needed ingredients
- consider that I won’t have time to bake until Monday
- pick up vacuum cleaner that the shop, after 6 weeks, tells us can’t be fixed
- buy a toy to donate at tomorrow’s party
- go to friend Shonna’s this afternoon to hang out and meet her friend who’s in town for the weekend
- get started on sewing projects this evening
- spend tomorrow morning at Sunday School and the meeting (aka ‘church’)
- attend our work Christmas party Sunday afternoon/evening
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Anniversary
I was at my sister, Brenda’s store today, and she was commenting on a button a customer was wearing.
Her: “Oh. There was some demonstration at the Art Gallery about some women who were killed, and this is the anniversary…?”
Me: “You mean at L'Ecole Polytechnique?”
Her: Blank look.
So for those of you who’ve forgotten, or are who are too young to remember, today is the 16th anniversary of the death of 14 engineering students, targeted by a mentally-unstable gunman because they were women.
In Canada, it’s also been declared a National Day of Mourning and the National Day to End Violence Against Women.
Her: “Oh. There was some demonstration at the Art Gallery about some women who were killed, and this is the anniversary…?”
Me: “You mean at L'Ecole Polytechnique?”
Her: Blank look.
So for those of you who’ve forgotten, or are who are too young to remember, today is the 16th anniversary of the death of 14 engineering students, targeted by a mentally-unstable gunman because they were women.
In Canada, it’s also been declared a National Day of Mourning and the National Day to End Violence Against Women.
Monday, December 05, 2005
A lot like Christmas
My sisters, Steve and I spent Saturday making Christmas presents. We spent a lot of the day talking and planning, and little of it actually working, but we got a few things done.
My normal pattern is to think about Christmas in November, then decide that everyone I know has too much stuff anyway, and I don’t need to worry about gifts. Then around December 20, I develop this enormous enthusiasm for Christmas and wish I’d taken the time to handcraft gifts. But since it’s too late for that, I go out and spend a whack of money on more stuff for people who DO have too much stuff, and DON’T need another (fill in the blank).
I heard on CBC that Maritimers spend more than other Canadians on Christmas (according to VISA). My theory is that in the most economically-depressed area of Canada, Christmas is a time to buy things one has dreamed of through the year. Versus here in B.C., where people buy everything they want through the year, and so at Christmas, there’s nothing left for others to buy for them.
Steve and I have found that there’s truth to the saying that a house will suck up all your spare money, so we decided to make use of our craft supplies and fabric and make some Christmas gifts this year.
Of course, I can’t write much about what we’ve made or planned, because that would spoil the surprise. But my favourite project so far is pomander balls, made by studding an orange or lemon with cloves, dusting it with spices and leaving it to dry. But since last year’s oranges rotted, I’m using the oven this year. It makes the oranges dry faster and it makes the house smell great.
It's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas. Hmm mm hmm mmm hmmm.
My normal pattern is to think about Christmas in November, then decide that everyone I know has too much stuff anyway, and I don’t need to worry about gifts. Then around December 20, I develop this enormous enthusiasm for Christmas and wish I’d taken the time to handcraft gifts. But since it’s too late for that, I go out and spend a whack of money on more stuff for people who DO have too much stuff, and DON’T need another (fill in the blank).
I heard on CBC that Maritimers spend more than other Canadians on Christmas (according to VISA). My theory is that in the most economically-depressed area of Canada, Christmas is a time to buy things one has dreamed of through the year. Versus here in B.C., where people buy everything they want through the year, and so at Christmas, there’s nothing left for others to buy for them.
Steve and I have found that there’s truth to the saying that a house will suck up all your spare money, so we decided to make use of our craft supplies and fabric and make some Christmas gifts this year.
Of course, I can’t write much about what we’ve made or planned, because that would spoil the surprise. But my favourite project so far is pomander balls, made by studding an orange or lemon with cloves, dusting it with spices and leaving it to dry. But since last year’s oranges rotted, I’m using the oven this year. It makes the oranges dry faster and it makes the house smell great.
It's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas. Hmm mm hmm mmm hmmm.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Do something, already
It’s not just me. Apparently Canadians in general think too much.
The United Nations Climate Change Conference started today in Montreal. It doesn’t surprise me that that Canada is hosting these talks when, according to a report released last month by the David Suzuki Foundation, Canadians have very strong environmental values. But there is a certain irony considering the same report placed us among the worst environmental performers in the industrialized world.
Not that I think that means we shouldn’t host the talks, or participate in the Kyoto Protocol. I do. (Consider that we placed ahead of the U.S., which, in 2001, backed out of its commitment to the protocol.) I just hope that instead of just talking (and thinking) about climate change, we’ll DO something.
The United Nations Climate Change Conference started today in Montreal. It doesn’t surprise me that that Canada is hosting these talks when, according to a report released last month by the David Suzuki Foundation, Canadians have very strong environmental values. But there is a certain irony considering the same report placed us among the worst environmental performers in the industrialized world.
Not that I think that means we shouldn’t host the talks, or participate in the Kyoto Protocol. I do. (Consider that we placed ahead of the U.S., which, in 2001, backed out of its commitment to the protocol.) I just hope that instead of just talking (and thinking) about climate change, we’ll DO something.
Let it snow
When my little morning person woke me up at 7:15 Sunday morning, I could hear the snow. Not in the way you can hear rain pounding on the roof, but in the way even the tiniest amount of snow absorbs sound and makes everything seem like it’s whispering.
Me: “Noah, go look out the window.”
Noah; “It snowed, Mama! Is it winter now? Can we go to Prince George?”
Three-year-old logic. We’re going to Prince George for Christmas. Christmas is in winter. It snows in winter. Therefore, if it’s snowing, it’s time to be in P.G.
He took it well that the trip isn’t for another three weeks. And since we weren’t getting on the road, he knew what to do.
“Let’s go catch snowflakes on our tongues.”
So there we were, shivering in the cold, raincoats over P.J.s, heads tipped back, catching snowflakes on our tongues.
Me: “Noah, go look out the window.”
Noah; “It snowed, Mama! Is it winter now? Can we go to Prince George?”
Three-year-old logic. We’re going to Prince George for Christmas. Christmas is in winter. It snows in winter. Therefore, if it’s snowing, it’s time to be in P.G.
He took it well that the trip isn’t for another three weeks. And since we weren’t getting on the road, he knew what to do.
“Let’s go catch snowflakes on our tongues.”
So there we were, shivering in the cold, raincoats over P.J.s, heads tipped back, catching snowflakes on our tongues.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Made for walkin'
Finally. I bought a pair of boots. Steve likes them, but warned me not to wear them with a red shirt. The boots do have a certain je ne sais Star Trek about them. They’re mid-calf, black patent leather with a square toe. And they’re comfortable. Really. Not in that “considering these shoes were made for someone with four toes, and if I never walked farther than to my car” comfy. These boots are grippy soles, cushioning, and arch supports comfortable, and they’re just groovy enough for me.
I was originally looking for something a little dressier, a little more chic. But then I realized I’d have to buy a new wardrobe, and a car. I take transit and walk a lot, so comfortable is key. And my wardrobe is pretty casual, so ultra-chic just wouldn’t work. The catch is that I’m too vain to buy ugly boots, and I’mcheap frugal thrifty, so $300 boots were out of the question. I guess that’s why I’ve spent two-and-a-half months looking for boots.
I really like these boots. They aren’t perfect, but I don’t think the perfect boot exists. Comfortable, gasp-inducing boots that no one else has (yet wishes they did), that cost $49, aren’t a realistic goal. These are very comfortable, pretty groovy, and were on sale for $100 off, so I’m just going to stop re-re-re-thinking my choice (I returned the last boots I bought) and just WEAR the boots outside. Or I could go out today to just see if there’s something a little more perfect available…
I was originally looking for something a little dressier, a little more chic. But then I realized I’d have to buy a new wardrobe, and a car. I take transit and walk a lot, so comfortable is key. And my wardrobe is pretty casual, so ultra-chic just wouldn’t work. The catch is that I’m too vain to buy ugly boots, and I’m
I really like these boots. They aren’t perfect, but I don’t think the perfect boot exists. Comfortable, gasp-inducing boots that no one else has (yet wishes they did), that cost $49, aren’t a realistic goal. These are very comfortable, pretty groovy, and were on sale for $100 off, so I’m just going to stop re-re-re-thinking my choice (I returned the last boots I bought) and just WEAR the boots outside. Or I could go out today to just see if there’s something a little more perfect available…
Monday, November 21, 2005
Don't feed the animals
I’m not a real fan of squirrels (flea-ridden rats with fuzzy tales and good P.R.), but when they started digging up and eating bulbs in my garden, they dropped into the Endangered Species category.
We planted the first batch of bulbs in October on a cold and rainy day, and I was stiff and sore for three days. So as I limped through the garden, the sight of freshly-dug soil and flower bulb husks definitely added insult to injury.
Rotten squirrels. Evil, mangy, thieving vermin. To make it worse, the parasites seem to favour the most expensive bulbs. No run-of-the-mill narcissus for them (which is too bad, because they’re TOXIC); their taste runs to the more exotic Anemone Blanda (windflower).
So after some online research (thank you, GardenWeb forum participants), when we planted another batch of bulbs this weekend, we added bloodmeal (supposed to smell like death to squirrels) and placed a layer of chicken wire over the newly-planted areas. We didn’t bother doing so where we planted narcissus and allium, since, as I said before, narcissus are toxic. And alliums are in the onion family, and I guess squirrels don’t like onion breath.
But, we discovered on Sunday that just because squirrels don’t EAT those bulbs, that doesn’t stop them DIGGING THEM UP!!! So we’ve added his-and-hers slingshots to our Christmas wish lists. Good-bye, cruel squirrels.
P.S. I think I've improved your ability to respond. Click on 'thoughts' to leave a comment.
We planted the first batch of bulbs in October on a cold and rainy day, and I was stiff and sore for three days. So as I limped through the garden, the sight of freshly-dug soil and flower bulb husks definitely added insult to injury.
Rotten squirrels. Evil, mangy, thieving vermin. To make it worse, the parasites seem to favour the most expensive bulbs. No run-of-the-mill narcissus for them (which is too bad, because they’re TOXIC); their taste runs to the more exotic Anemone Blanda (windflower).
So after some online research (thank you, GardenWeb forum participants), when we planted another batch of bulbs this weekend, we added bloodmeal (supposed to smell like death to squirrels) and placed a layer of chicken wire over the newly-planted areas. We didn’t bother doing so where we planted narcissus and allium, since, as I said before, narcissus are toxic. And alliums are in the onion family, and I guess squirrels don’t like onion breath.
But, we discovered on Sunday that just because squirrels don’t EAT those bulbs, that doesn’t stop them DIGGING THEM UP!!! So we’ve added his-and-hers slingshots to our Christmas wish lists. Good-bye, cruel squirrels.
P.S. I think I've improved your ability to respond. Click on 'thoughts' to leave a comment.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
A dream, sweetheart
Two posts in one day. I'm trying to make up for the gap.
Steve and I spent last weekend at the Brentwood Bay Lodge and Spa, courtesy of my brother, Bruce, and sister-in-law, Tarra. It was their gift to me for my 40th birthday. When I told my sister, Brenda, about the gift, she didn’t miss a beat. “Oooh! We’re going to have such a good time.” Steve, in turn, begged that I not try to turn the two nights for two into four nights for one.
Now, I’m sure there are people out there for whom a weekend sans enfant at a small luxury hotel is not a big deal. For us, it oh-so-most-definitely was an oversized deal. I could gush endlessly about how fabulous it all was, from the glass of sparkling wine offered at reception, to the meal I could have cried over it was so luscious, to going back to bed (after a room service breakfast) to read (uninterrupted) under the down duvet wrapped in 700-thread-count cotton. And I haven’t even mentioned the 55-minute deep tissue massage. Oh. I guess I just did.
It was such fun to offer an urbane nod as the hotel clerk explained all the room included (free calls anywhere in North America sounded so generous until I considered that I had not gone on a romantic weekend with my darling only to spend it chatting to my friends) then as soon as he’d left, giggle through a dance of joy before taking a running jump onto the king-size bed.
There were so many details that made it all so incredibly wonderful. Not the least of which for Steve, was sleeping in past 6:45 a.m. (when our little ‘morning person’ usually comes into our bedroom to cheerfully announce, “It’s morning! The sun is up!”)
If you have $500 to spare (or have anything of equal value you could sell), book a weekend at the lodge. Really. It’s worth every single penny, and that’s coming from me, with Scottish blood flowing frugally through my veins.
Seriously. Stop reading. Click the link. Oh, don't forget that bubble bath isn't very good for jacuzzi jets.
Steve and I spent last weekend at the Brentwood Bay Lodge and Spa, courtesy of my brother, Bruce, and sister-in-law, Tarra. It was their gift to me for my 40th birthday. When I told my sister, Brenda, about the gift, she didn’t miss a beat. “Oooh! We’re going to have such a good time.” Steve, in turn, begged that I not try to turn the two nights for two into four nights for one.
Now, I’m sure there are people out there for whom a weekend sans enfant at a small luxury hotel is not a big deal. For us, it oh-so-most-definitely was an oversized deal. I could gush endlessly about how fabulous it all was, from the glass of sparkling wine offered at reception, to the meal I could have cried over it was so luscious, to going back to bed (after a room service breakfast) to read (uninterrupted) under the down duvet wrapped in 700-thread-count cotton. And I haven’t even mentioned the 55-minute deep tissue massage. Oh. I guess I just did.
It was such fun to offer an urbane nod as the hotel clerk explained all the room included (free calls anywhere in North America sounded so generous until I considered that I had not gone on a romantic weekend with my darling only to spend it chatting to my friends) then as soon as he’d left, giggle through a dance of joy before taking a running jump onto the king-size bed.
There were so many details that made it all so incredibly wonderful. Not the least of which for Steve, was sleeping in past 6:45 a.m. (when our little ‘morning person’ usually comes into our bedroom to cheerfully announce, “It’s morning! The sun is up!”)
If you have $500 to spare (or have anything of equal value you could sell), book a weekend at the lodge. Really. It’s worth every single penny, and that’s coming from me, with Scottish blood flowing frugally through my veins.
Seriously. Stop reading. Click the link. Oh, don't forget that bubble bath isn't very good for jacuzzi jets.
My magical family
(Apologies for the long delay in posting.)
The magi, the sorcerer, and … the jacket salesman.
Yeah, I don’t get it either. Noah is dressed as a magician’s apprentice, but when asked, insisted he was a jacket salesman. There’s just no point in arguing with a three-year-old about some things. And since I’d had to force/bribe him to wear the costume at all, I had little energy left to argue this point.
The magi, the sorcerer, and … the jacket salesman.
Yeah, I don’t get it either. Noah is dressed as a magician’s apprentice, but when asked, insisted he was a jacket salesman. There’s just no point in arguing with a three-year-old about some things. And since I’d had to force/bribe him to wear the costume at all, I had little energy left to argue this point.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Flea market! Flea market! Flea market!
You know how when you're driving down the road, and you see something interesting, and say, "Oh. Garage sale," and what you really mean is, "STOP THE CAAAAAR!!"? (As opposed to those times when you say, "Oh. Fabric store," and you just mean, "I'd never noticed that fabric store before.")
Well, on a road trip in Ontario (or donut country) with my brother, Bruce, and his wife, Tarra, we came up with a method to cover the options. A single mention of a potential stop means, "Oh. A donut shop. There sure are a lot of them in Ontario." And there are. But, naming any roadside attraction three times (for example: "Tim Hortons! Tim Hortons! Tim Hortons!") means, "PULL OVER. NOW."
So today, I and some friends from church had people shouting, “Flea market! Flea market! Flea market!”
I am a fan of flea markets, garage sales, thrift stores, and second-hand shopping in general (we bought our house out of the Buy & Sell). Big fan. Big, big fan.
And as much as I love shopping second hand, I love working a sale.
I love digging through boxes, checking out and sorting all the weird and wonderful items that have been donated. Oh, the mystery (why does this thing Abby donated look so familiar?) and the drama (Hey! I GAVE this to Abby for her birthday!)
I start the day sleep deprived, miss breakfast, haggle with dealers who feel compelled to tell you that every collectible item they pick up is for their grandson/niece/doctor’s favourite cousin (blah, blah, blah. Just pay me.), eat a cruller for lunch (the least nutritionally offensive of donuts) and drink so much tea I’m talking like Woody Woodpecker.
A great day. Great, great, great.
Oh! And I bought Joe Versus the Volcano for $2. Tom Hanks may be embarrassed about it, but I laughed. Quirky. I like it.
But the real topper for the day is that we raised $700 to rebuild homes destroyed by cyclones in India. While $700 doesn’t get you much house in the Lower Mainland, it gets you a lot in a country where the average person makes $350 per year.
All in all, a good day’s work.
Well, on a road trip in Ontario (or donut country) with my brother, Bruce, and his wife, Tarra, we came up with a method to cover the options. A single mention of a potential stop means, "Oh. A donut shop. There sure are a lot of them in Ontario." And there are. But, naming any roadside attraction three times (for example: "Tim Hortons! Tim Hortons! Tim Hortons!") means, "PULL OVER. NOW."
So today, I and some friends from church had people shouting, “Flea market! Flea market! Flea market!”
I am a fan of flea markets, garage sales, thrift stores, and second-hand shopping in general (we bought our house out of the Buy & Sell). Big fan. Big, big fan.
And as much as I love shopping second hand, I love working a sale.
I love digging through boxes, checking out and sorting all the weird and wonderful items that have been donated. Oh, the mystery (why does this thing Abby donated look so familiar?) and the drama (Hey! I GAVE this to Abby for her birthday!)
I start the day sleep deprived, miss breakfast, haggle with dealers who feel compelled to tell you that every collectible item they pick up is for their grandson/niece/doctor’s favourite cousin (blah, blah, blah. Just pay me.), eat a cruller for lunch (the least nutritionally offensive of donuts) and drink so much tea I’m talking like Woody Woodpecker.
A great day. Great, great, great.
Oh! And I bought Joe Versus the Volcano for $2. Tom Hanks may be embarrassed about it, but I laughed. Quirky. I like it.
But the real topper for the day is that we raised $700 to rebuild homes destroyed by cyclones in India. While $700 doesn’t get you much house in the Lower Mainland, it gets you a lot in a country where the average person makes $350 per year.
All in all, a good day’s work.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
What to think about
When Dances With Wolves came out, some of my family and I pondered what our traditional native names would be if our Cree mother had been so inclined. My once-bow-legged brother, Bruce, was labelled "Walked too young." His wife, Tarra: "Shops too much."
But me? Hmmm.
"Talks too fast?"
"Eats too much?" (this from Bruce)
"Kicks real hard." (my response)
I tossed out possibilities, considered them, reconsidered them, thought of variations, ramifications, possible interpretations... I could go on. Really.
"Thinks too much!" (in unison)
Perfect.
I think.
(What would your Dances With Wolves name be?)
But me? Hmmm.
"Talks too fast?"
"Eats too much?" (this from Bruce)
"Kicks real hard." (my response)
I tossed out possibilities, considered them, reconsidered them, thought of variations, ramifications, possible interpretations... I could go on. Really.
"Thinks too much!" (in unison)
Perfect.
I think.
(What would your Dances With Wolves name be?)
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