Facing an uphill battle

I, McPie, and our friend G have been "virtually" working out together for several weeks? months? We each go to our own gyms, but share reports of workouts, training information and general encouragement through email. I love the arrangement -- I have a forum to ask questions, an audience for my fount of fitness knowledge, we can slag each other mercilessly, and don't have to actually share equipment with those jokers.

Kidding. Mostly. It's fun to have workout pals, even if they don't come to gym with you. (And honestly, I'm an intorvert. I prefer solo.) I like not having to compete directly (I have a disadvantage as a girl; this would maybe be discouraging), but I can strive indirectly to keep up with the others.

Anyway. The boys do these things called "chin-ups". You may have heard of them. (Again, I kid. I know you know what I'm talking about.) McPie can do many of them in a row. Or, at least, some in a row. Multiple sets of multiple chin-ups. G can do at least one. Maybe more. He fails to report on this particular move. I haven't attempted this exercise because the chin up bar at my gym is... Well, there are usually other people around and I'd have to move equipment around to get at it, and who knows what would happen, and did I mention there are usually other people around? So I've never done chin-up.

Today I had the gym to myself. So I decided to try to take a baseline of my chin-up ability, and pulled a bench under the bar, so I could reach it...

Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha.

Such folly was my optimism.

I could pull myself up exactly 0 (zero) inches. I pulled and I pulled, and I was successful only at HANGING from the bar. And I think I pulled my brachialis doing so.

But, I did not give up easily. I tried starting hanging with my arms bent at 90 degrees. I was able to hold myself up for about 2 seconds (a generous estimate). I tried starting at the top (chin over the bar; I had to jump to get there), and lowering myself slowly down. Before I even got to 90 degrees, I fell like a limp doll.

But I tried all of these things multiple times (never with success). And I'll do it again the next time I have the gym to myself. I've gotta start somewhere, right?


Edit: re: Going to the gym solo. In fact, I would love to go the gym with McPie and G. And also, are we EVER going to get to play on the same frisbee team? Sheesh.

'Tis the season

Tonight is McPie's office fancy schmancy Christmas shindig.

We're all set: I got shiny new undergarments to "uplift" a resurrected li'l black dress, and painted my toenails red. Picked out a smashing tie for McPie's new shirt, which, incidentally, matches my toenails. Kids will be ensconced for the night Chez Mamans.

I'm looking forward to the party. I totally suck at small talk, but I'm great at steak.

Sch-knit-zel

I've started knitting again! Yay!

Slowly to start - to rebuild the habit. McPie picked out some soft heathered brown yarn at Michael's on the weekend, and I've started knitting it into a new scarf for him. It took me a few tries to remember how to cast on! I restarted a few times, because I kept changing my mind about a stitch pattern. It's decided, and I knit the whole way through Reptile Boy last night. :-)

The Green Goblin has not been forgotten. I last worked on it in, um, August? And I'm actually pretty close:

I'll try to finish it before spring. :-)

On a totally different topic: we've discovered the wonder of schnitzel. Pork schnitzel, actually. So easy, so delicious, arguably healthy (a topic for another post), and loved by children and grown-ups alike through the ages. I encourage you to make it -- you can find recipes everywhere. (Trixie, replace the pork with eggplant!). Don't forget the squirt of lemon!

Notes from the other side of the river

I've had enough experience now that I think I can safely report that dealing with civil servants in Quebec is very pleasant indeed.

I know that getting the health card was tricky, but everyone was very nice about it, and willing and able to answer my questions, in English. (Not their fault that a lot of questions were needed.)

Yesterday, I took the afternoon off to complete some oft-postponed errands, including updating by SIN card to my maiden name (about time!), and renewing my Health Card (yes, already!).
Everything went so smoothly, I could hardly believe it. The folks who helped me out acted like it was their job to help me complete these tasks -- they seemed to enjoy helping me. Maybe they were faking it, but I don't care -- they were very convincing.

And in general, there is less lining up*, and more sitting at desks (rather than standing at kiosks) which is altogether more personal.

I ended up even having a few extra minutes left in the afternoon, which I used for a stop at the local health/enviro store, where I got a giant bottle of all-natural, environmentally-friendly laundry detergent. You know, so I can give back a little to my newly adopted homeland.

(An only obliquely-related observation I've made: in stores over here, I see a lot more "Made in Quebec" and "Product of Quebec" labels than I see "... in Ontario" when shopping on the Ottawa side of river. Makes it seem even more like it's its own country here, supporting itself by its own efforts. Less selly-outy**...)

Now, if only we could apply a pleasantly Quebecois solution to the traffic situation when crossing the river... It's always harder to get home, which double-sucks.

* I was brilliant though, and brought along a book for the inevitable wait at the Service Canada outlet. Their Eyes Were Watching God is ridiculously good so far.

** Vocab obviously indicates recent immersion in Buffy...

Friendly reminder

Saturday morning, the first thing out of McPie's mouth: "Rabbits!"

First day of December. That, along with the major dumpings of snow we've been getting these past days, and the plans we've been making for pre-holiday travel for family visits, makes it obvious that the Christmas season is inescapably upon us.

Around this time of year, I usually go off on a rant about the pressure that comes at this time of year to do all sorts of STUFF (mainly, shopping, which I hate).

No rant this year. At least not yet. Last night I was treated to a friendly reminder of the softer side of Christmas.

We hosted a family dinner in celebration of the first Sunday of Advent. The Moms came over (the Advent dinner was actually their idea), and boy did we have a good time. Maman brought a beautiful spruce wreath for the table, for which I dug up some candles (not purple and pink for the traditional Advent wreath, but red was perfectly festive ), and Constance spent a long time setting a lovely table. McPie outdid himself in the kitchen, creating an incredible bisteeya, which we served with well-buttered basmati rice, brown sugar-rosemary carrots, and a beet, apple and cambozola salad. The kids were amazingly chipper (who am I kidding? they always are...) and ate their little faces off. One thing I've learned in the past few years: there is nothing so satisfying to a parent than when their children enjoy (and finish!) the food put before them. And last night, there were four parents who were appreciatin'.

With all the busy-ness of back to school, ongoing funeral stuff, then the Great Pneumonia Epidemic of 11/07, we haven't really had much of a chance to hang out with the Moms in a long time. (We had some good summer barbecues and garage sales together, but that was so long ago!) So it was great to have some time at last to catch up. We just had a super-relaxing time, chatting about our Christmas plans, which mainly involve all of us flying out to Nova Scotia to stay at the Farmhouse Inn for five days. The bulk of our planning involved two things a) how to minimize the need to Christmas shop, and b) how we can maximize the leisure aspects of the vacation.

What's not to like? And it even gets better.

Once we had digested our supper sufficiently to be able to contemplate dessert (piping hot country spice pudding, perfect for a snowy winter night), we dished it up, called the kids back to the table to partake, and we got out the Christmas songbooks. We sang practically all the songs and carols there were. I listened (with goosebumps) while they did some French carols, and I had to solo for "Up on the Housetop", which apparently nobody else knew. We were all totally into it.

I know you're thinking that's totally cheesy, but it was SO FUN. And very much anxiety-free, as Christmas should be.

If we weren't heading out traveling (for the inevitable pre-Christmas visiting) for the next few weekends, we'd be doing weekly Advent suppers. As it is, we'll reunite in NS on Dec 23 with a bigger family and more Christmas carols.

See, this kind of Christmas stuff I can get into. I know that some of the seasonal obligations are necessary, and I will get through it - primarily by remembering last night's joyful Season Kick-off , and looking forward towards the ultimate goal, 20 days from now, when it all pays off.

Say it with me: T-G-I-F-F!

Last week, I gave Sweetie McPie the lovely and extremely personal gift of his very own virulent pneumonia. He accepted it graciously, but thoughtfully refrained from passing it along to the children.

Nonetheless, it's now been a few weeks that we've been limping along domestically, trying to keep things in order with one parent or the other in bed, and neither of us sleeping at night. (The coughing! Oh, the coughing...)

So, we are very much looking forward to a non-sick, non-kid, non-traveling, non-hosting weekend, starting in about six please-let-them-be-short hours. We're all stocked up with a cupboard full of chili fixin's, and a stack of borrowed Buffy DVDs.

At long last, we'll soon be back to our old superhero selves. Just in time for Christmas.

New Moan Ya

I managed to get into work today, driven by the stress that things may be getting out of hand there, and enabled by a codeine-fuelled good night's sleep. That's where my doctor reached me when she called to report that I do in fact have pneumonia. In my lower left lobe. (Who knew lungs had lobes?)

Now I am fully armed with the drugs I need to survive another round.

But I probably won't be able to manage my last ulti game of the season on Thursday. I. Am. So. Weak.

[wink]

Blech. Sick.

Thank you for your get-wells. Please, keep 'em coming - I need all the help I can get.

I am still sick-a-bed.

Friday and Saturday I thought I was a little better - enough so that we didn't cancel the wine club meeting we were hosting on Saturday night. McPie pulled more than his weight, doing most of the cooking for the event, so I could take rests and save my strength.

What is this, a Victorian novel?

Bah. Anyway, I did take it easy at the wine club (Wine of Italy in Eight Easy Lessons - subject for another post, one day when I am well.) But by Sunday afternoon, the fever and coughing was back with a vengeance and I was in tears of discomfort and exhaustion this morning.

(McPie and I haven't slept in a week -- I can't lay down for the coughing. It's worse when I do, and makes the coughing more awkward physically. For McPie, it's simply the noise, and he hasn't been able to bring himself to abandon me for the spare room, and his sanity, yet.)

So, I went to the doctor today. A stroke of luck: I called my own clinic this morning and was able to get an appointment with my very own doc first thing in the morning. She prescribed some very hardcore cough suppressant (ie: with codeine), and chest x-rays to see if it's pneumonia. My lungs weren't rattling, so she couldn't make that guess just from the examination.

So, I spent the afternoon in a codeine-induced haze. Another stroke of luck - the codeine hasn't caused any adverse reactions (yet). When I had my wisdom teeth out, the Tylenol 3's made me completely nauseous and hallucinatory. (But then, I wasn't able to really take them on a full stomach. :-) ) It really does help the cough, as opposed to the regular cough medicines I'd tried that were of no use at all. But it wear off after about three hours, and doesn't help with the fever.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to go to work; the coughing is debilitating, and the codeine haze is too! (And I'm taking the lowest dose.) Oh, and the fever is none too comfortable either.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I find out really soon that I do have pneumonia, so I can get myself fixed. If it's not pneumonia, and they don't give me antibiotics (or something, anything!) and I just have to get over this on my own ("get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids"), I just won't know what to do.

An unwelcome visit

I was already begrudgingly hosting the ornery Coughy McHacksalot when, well after midnight, Chilly O'Feverish showed up on the doorstep with a suitcase brimming with Aches&Pain®. The two unwelcome guests partied the night away in my bed (the miserable vagrants). I could only shiver helplessly as I clung, desperate for warmth, to McPie's strangely cool body, praying for oblivion...

McPie whupped O'Feverish with a solid round of Advil, and the devil was gone by morning. McHacksalot and I are still in bed this afternoon, sleeping off the hangover from the Aches&Pain®.

Having spent a weekend two months ago with their terrible sister Snotty McSinus, the bragging rights I'd won from years of avoiding the company of the Terrible Trio are officially void.

Speaking of icing on the cake

We finally got our wedding rings.

A lovely and talented goldsmith, Csilla Ekes, made them for us. I would recommend her for any custom goldsmith. Like I said: lovely and talented. They are not really as scratchy looking as this picture shows. In real life:
You may notice that I am wearing mine on my right hand. For our wedding, we used rings we had previously given each other. After wearing my snakes on my left hand, I decided that I preferred them there, representing my "public" wedding ring. So I had this one sized for my right hand. Because McPie's original concrete ring could not be resized, he happily returned it to his right hand, and the hammered white gold one is in the place of honour.

All Grown Up, v. 3.0

We bought a furnace on Wednesday. Well, the system's not really set up so that the word "buy" is appropriate. We signed up for one, and paid the deposit. Our new one will be installed within two weeks.

Our current furnace didn't break or anything. But it was kind of old, kind of loud, not really efficient. The new one is officially "high efficiency" with some sort of two-stage system that I don't really understand but is apparently more comfortable and quieter. So, fun!

Also, there's icing on this cake! First, we're getting the ducts cleaned. (A month ago, I didn't even know there was such a thing.) AND, even better, we've got appointments made next week to get estimates for new windows. Windows! Cuz really, there's no point in getting a new furnace when you can feel the breeze coming in from any glassed area of the house. That's just silly.

I thought buying a couch was all grown-up and mature. The fact that I'm actually excited (like, with butterflies and everything!) about the prospect of buying a new furnace and having new windows installed indicates to me that I've reached a new height of adulthood.

I'm optimistic today.

I find published lists ("best of", "top 100", etc) to be interesting and pointless. They are generally too bounded by subjectivity to be useful, but they are still interesting as a snapshot of generally-held social opinion.

This list of the Top 100 living geniuses has a neat twist - although it's a top 100, the listees are ranked by a rating system, so there are many "ties". What I find of particular interest is the fields represented by any given rank. For example, look at all the people tied for #43:

boxer
islamicist
businessman
writer
inventor
scientist

Or #58, which includes:

singer
computer scientist
anthropologist
historian
photographer
writer
poet

In the real world, I often get the sense that artistic or cultural objectives play second fiddle in many ways to achievements in the world of business or science. In this one snapshot, however, we see that in this particular swath of "hearts and minds", art, culture, science, business and social studies seem to stand shoulder to shoulder. Each supporting the other, I'd think, and providing a diverse and interesting world of perspective and progress.

And for something a little lighter

Today, Sweetie McPie explores the intricacies of nutmeat.

Pecans vs. Walnuts

Pecans: tiny bike helmets for the Alien
Walnuts: emaciated Thanksgiving turkeys

Pecans: brain
Walnuts: big Einstein brain

Pecans: have PEE in the name
Walnuts: have NUTS in the name

Pecans: french - Pecan
Walnuts: french - Grenoble

Pecans: topographically like the Shield near Lake Superior
Walnuts: topographically unlike anything I have hiked on

Pecans: could be disguised almonds
Walnuts: didn't dress up for Hallowe'en

Pecans: the Phantom
Walnuts: the Elephant Man

Pecans: in terms of scrotum reaction - cold lake
Walnuts: in terms of scrotum reaction - hot, humid day

Now not just my half-birthday

On October 15, surrounded by her family, Helen Kohut Maloney passed peacefully from this life to the next. Born in Hafford, Saskatchewan in 1923, Helen has touched many lives as she moved to Vancouver, Toronto, and ultimately settled in Hamilton, where she raised her family, worked as an elementary school teacher, traveled widely, and played bridge avidly.

Left with a void not easily filled are her children Andrea Kelly, Michael and his wife Barbara, and Patrick and his wife Janetter; step-daughter Donna Loutitt; and grandchildren Heather and Julie Kelly, Scott and Shaun Maloney, Kyle Maloney and Tara Whelan. Welcoming her into the next life are Helen’s husband Patrick, her parents George and Doris Kohut, and her siblings Anne, Mary, Steve, Olga, George and Ernie. The family sincerely thanks the staff and volunteers at Villa Italia and Emmanuel House, who cared for Helen and her family during her last days.

All are welcome to join Helen’s family and friends as they mourn her passing and celebrate her life at P.X. Dermody Funeral Home, Hamilton, on Thursday, Oct 18. The funeral will be held on October 19 at Canadian Martyrs’ Catholic church, Main St West, followed by a reception onsite. Donations to Emmanuel House or the Juravinski Cancer Centre are welcome and appreciated.

I wrote the obituary about two weeks ago, but just filled in the dates today. Baba passed away last night at about quarter to eight. She WAS surrounded by her family: my mother, my sister, and my uncle Mike were there, holding her hands. After being unconscious and unresponsive for more than a day, Baba opened her eyes, looked around at all of them, tried to speak (Mom says "tried to say good-bye"), and then took her last breath. As peacefully as that. At first, they didn't know it was her last breath for awhile - until she didn't take another one. Mom joked to me later that Baba waited for them to return from dinner, so they wouldn't have to change the obituary: "surrounded by..."

My mother called me right away. We were preparing to head out to our ultimate game. We went anyway. Because really, in times like this, what better way to grieve/celebrate/express angst (etc) than to run around as hard as you can?

Then we came home and ate McPie's Apple Yum (a delicious baked apple concoction he invented for the occasion). And thought about how happy and relieved Baba must be.

Back in Hamilton, my family and the staff at Emmanuel House said some prayers around Baba. Then, my family (they'd been joined by my other uncle, his wife and my cousin) headed to the Corktown Pub, where they enjoyed pints and each ordered a single chicken wing. Uncle Paddy has a story of taking Baba out to lunch one time. When told that they were serving 10 cent wings, Baba promptly ordered: "A garden salad and one chicken wing, please." Classic.


*October 15 was also the birthday of my grandfather Terry - my Dad's dad. This date has now reached the status of "Official Family Holiday".

Edit: Here is the link to the actual obituary. My mother tweaked it a bit with more details. Interestingly, the obit entry immediately preceding Baba's in today's Spectator is for Heather Aileen Kelly.

Tidying up

Today is my half birthday. McPie took me shopping on the weekend to celebrate. ("Any excuse to celebrate" is one of our many mottos. In fact, we have Thursdays set aside as a weekly day of celebration.)

What does it mean that every item of clothing we chose was black? Back to my roots, I say.

Anyway, cleaning out my drafts folder, here is some distraction from Oct 3:

We celebrated a year of shacking up with dinner at the ever-enjoyable Stoneface Dolly's, and then headed to the NAC for The Penelopiad. The play was incredible! Here is a review that echoes our opinion of it. Penny Downie as Penelope was really very riveting - not only her delivery (seamless switching from emotional flashbacks to bloodless narrative), but her flowing red hair and athletic physique put the icing on the cake. I was interested to watch for Jenny Young - not just because she has the same name as my grandmother -but because I've been enjoying her as Coach in the CBC radio's Afghanada. (Yes, I've succumbed to the allure of radio drama.)

There were some scenes that were incredibly effective theatrically, especially since the sets and costumes were so simple -- the near-drowning and rescue by ducks of Penelope, the tumultuous journey by ship to Ithaca, the hanging of the maids -- totally compelling and convincing, and were all done mainly by the actors movements, with just a few simple props.

I was pleased/relieved that the play wasn't overly "theatrical", I guess in the post-modern sense. It wasn't tricky or confusing or overly symbolic.

I assume this show will go on tour - I definitely recommend that you go and see it, if you enjoy theatre at all.

We've watched a few movies lately, and I liked them:

The Lookout: Made us feel awful in our bellies/throats the whole way through (impending sense of doom, feeling of sympathy and dread for the main character), but it was a very entertaining experience. The characters were interesting and I thought the acting was believable (not that know know much about that.

300: So cool! Also a good lead-in to The Penelopiad. Comic-booky in the most satisfying way. Definitely riffed on Kill Bill, Gladiator, and, needless to say, Sin City. I liked it much better than the latter. I'd gotten the impression that this was an epic historical/action flick à la Troy (which I never saw because I am picky that way)... But this was way cooler. Love the Gerard Butler! We saw him first in Beowulf & Grendel, which I also recommend.

The Bourne Ultimatum: What else to say other than: I love Jason Bourne. (Not sure if that's more or less than Gerard Butler - I'll have to spend more time with each and see... ) I also can't believe we made it out to the cinema for this one. I'm sure we are amongst the last to see this.

Keeping vigil

I've been having much trouble finding the time and energy to post lately. So I'm going to recycle some material by way of an update. If you recognize this text... um, hope you don't mind!

Got a call from my mother a week ago Wednesday, and it seems that Baba was on her last legs, and so off we went (McPie and I), to be there for the end. (We were supposed to have kids for the long weekend, but the moms covered for us gracefully, as promised.) By the we arrived on Wednesday night, Baba seemed to have rallied, and and though SHE was ready to go, her body wasn't quite.

So, although the trip turned out differently than expected (I brought funeral clothes but didn't wear them), it was wonderful to be there with the family, especially once my sister arrived on Monday - we had some memorable visits. We also enjoyed a magnificent turkey* dinner grâce à mon oncle Michael, which we had at the hospice with some of the patients and staff.

If I could, I'd have stayed till the end, but because we can't tell when that will be, I came home.

Although she mostly slept or was often too dazed to be really conscious, we had many moments with Baba where she was with us completely - listening, helping to pick hymns for her "celebration of life", still joking around. It's so frustrating - you're pleased that she's not dead, but you know she wants to be and you can't stay forever while her body holds on.

Apparently, Baba has declined dramatically since Wednesday. I stopped in to say good-bye to her at 7 AM before my flight back, but she was sleeping. However, she told mom later that she knew I was there. Mom's been calling with 12 hour updates. I called at noon today and Baba and I exchanged more "good-bye, I love yous" (Baba in her barely audible whisper). Maybe I'll get to do it again tomorrow.

I know it's not the same as losing a parent (or someone taken too soon), but still... it's Baba. I'm so lucky to be experiencing this so late in my life -- it means I've been blessed with a grandmother who I could know (and begin to understand and appreciate) as an adult.

My family is awesome. They find just the right amount of humour in everything - so it's emotional, but not crushing. My sister can get Baba a-giggling, even on her deathbed. Everyone is sticking together, and really appreciating that we have this time together, since we're normally spread out across the country.

For now, we are back at home, looking forward to a very quiet weekend of doing NOTHING, except maybe lying on the couch. Oh! Oh! And a hair cut. TONIGHT. I'm a month overdue. I had to cancel last week due to Baba. I'm so very excited. The little things keep you going. ;-)

* Next time I cook a turkey -- which I keep typing as "turnkey" btw -- I'm going to brine it overnight before roasting. Michael did this (his first time trying it, too), with simply magnificent results. I've never eaten tenderer turkey. His stuffing kicked ass too, and he didn't even put it in the bird. And that was just one highlight of bunking for 6 nights with a chef. The ribs need a post of their own!

Spinning my wheels

In my job, I rely on other people to provide pretty much all the information that I need to do my work. No info, no forward motion on my part.

I'm having one of those weeks where I just. can't. get. the answers. No responses to requests, or when they come they are either totally enigmatic or of the "I don't know the answer and I don't know who does" variety. Head, meet wall.

It makes for a very. long. workweek.

So, to cheer us all up, a picture to brighten up an otherwise grey blog:

These are pygmy marmosets. Aren't they cute? We saw a thing on them the ONtv nature show with David Attenborough, and decided that they were second only to the sea otter as our fave cutie-pie animal. Then, Constance came home a couple of days ago with drawing of what was clearly a pygmy marmoset. Because, in our house? We are on the same page.

And onward into a new season

After spending a summer enjoying sports as our main leisure activity, we looking forward to diversifying as the weather turns colder.

We're jump-starting this with a culture buzz: I picked up tickets for The Penelopiad at the NAC next week! I quite enjoyed the book (the Atwood version, of course!), and I'm looking forward to seeing it done "out loud". I'm not sure I'll be able to convince McPie to study up ahead of time, but I doubt that'll be necessary to enjoy the show. I'll try to find time to post a review.

I've also been eyeing the incredibly enticing lineup in the upcoming ballet series at the NAC. It's all fantastic companies doing totally interesting ballets. I don't know if we can (or should) afford to see them all, but it will be hard to choose. I knew I should've gotten a subscription!

Speaking of subscriptions, we were lost for a few weeks when our Globe and Mail subscription expired and we had failed to renew it. We only get the Saturday paper, and we're lucky if we get through reading 3 articles in it, but collecting the paper from the porch on Saturday morning's as we prepare our coffee gives us a keen sense of leisure. Like we are embracing the slow. Which we actually do in many ways - just, it rarely feels like it as we go go go.

Once ultimate is really over in the middle of November, we'll have lots of time for reading. McPie and I finished Crow Lake (really enjoyed the read; the jury is still out on whether the ending was satisfying, but the contentiousness of it has resulted in some interesting discussions.) Anyone have any suggestions for a book that would be good to read aloud? We're looking for our next candidate. (Fiction, please! The real world is a drag.)

And, speaking of culture (I'm about to show that I define that very loosely), I gave McPie his first piano lesson last week. It was fun! He's a quick study of course, though is perhaps over-eager to put both hands together before he's ready. As he put it - as a drummer he's great with his limbs, but that talent doesn't necessarily extend to "limblets". I guess between piano lessons, we'll look forward to more rock 'n' roll shows this winter.

In other news: we are driving down to Hamilton this weekend to visit Baba, and are looking forward to spending time with the family. My cousin Scott will be home from Australia! Haven't seen that kid in years. I planned on posting an update on last weekend's jaunt down there, but got mired in sentimentality. Will strive to complete. But the summary is, to borrow a phrase from the kids these days, it's all good.

(Ass)ymetry

We have the most incredible perk here at my work: an on-site massage therapist.

True, she's only on-site for one day every other week, and we do have to pay for it (but benefits covers it). But, handy! I rarely had massages before, because it was so complicated to fit into my beyond-work schedule. Now, I'm a regular. (Okay, I've gone twice, but I'm booking ahead through Christmas.)

So, I had massage this morning, and it worked out all the kinks that had knotted up in my back and shoulders from the long drives and much sitting I've been doing recently. Aaaahhhh! Relief.

In addition to the shoulder kinks, the massage therapist and I somewhat accidentally discovered something rather shocking about my current anatomy: my left ass cheek is noticeably smaller than my right ass cheek.

Now, I say "current anatomy" because (presumably) I wasn't born like this. My larger ass cheek is the side of my body that I use for lunging in frisbee.

I've been playing for seven years. Say I've averaged game a week. Maybe I lunge - always on the same leg, the non-pivot foot leg - a half dozen times a game (I'm rolling in throwing practice here, which generally contains a higher lunge-per-throws ratio). Not counting non-frisbee-related lunging (which typically balances out each side), by my calculations, I've done 2184 lunges with my right leg, and 0 with my left leg.

(All the estimates are WAGs*, as I don't generally perform math. But I'd venture my estimates are conservative.)

2184 lunges apparently add up. To a single, enlarged ass cheek. (Or, I supposed you could say, 0 lunges add up to one under-sized, neglected ass cheek.)

And McPie married me anyway.

This news of this "defect" should not be a revelation to me. Last week we did curtsey squats in a weights class I took, which are essentially one legged squats. The next day my left (small, weak. pathetic and girly) ass cheek was really hurting. But my right side didn't hurt at all. But why haven't I heard of this issue before? I hang out with frisbee players all the time! Does everyone have this problem? Are frisbee players secretly - or unbeknownst to me - doing extra lunges with their pivot-legs in the off season? Or have I discovered a niche market for customized jeans for frisbee players, with one butt out-sized for the lunge-side?

Now, the one consolation is that when I say "noticeably smaller", I mean "noticeable to the professional and well-trained hands of an RMT who is specifically feeling around on my ass for this particular discrepancy." Of course, when she moved from my right side to my left, she may have exclaimed "Wow!" in alarm.

But still, if you're staring at my ass as I run down the field, you probably won't be able to see this asymetry.

This does explain why I occasionally find myself running in circles. And I'd always blamed this on "lack of field sense"! Ha!


*Wild-assed guess. This is a technical term in my industry.

He finally admits it

McPie, on the daily drag of rushing:

"In my world, the sundial would be the height of time-keeping technology."

Hammer time

Thank you thank you for your comments on my last post.

I guess times like these let you see how flexible, spontaneous, stoic, and/or understanding people are. I guess I mean "we" - the family. We're facing an enormous change, and there is much preparation to be done. Now that the doctor's visits and the move to the palliative care home have been completed, the preparation that remains is emotional, interpersonal, relational.

The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure it's not Baba who has the work to do. She really seems to be on top of it. For example, my sister was packing up Baba's belongings, and Mom was on the phone with Baba at the same time, and Julie and Mom are both crying. Baba, laughing "Why are you girls crying?!?!"

It's the rest of us. We have work to do for ourselves and for each other. I can only speak for myself: my work is going to involve spending as much time as I can with Baba, and figuring out how to let her go. And doing my part to help everyone through. Personally, I believe (though perhaps naively, as I have little experience with this) that this situation can be approached with optimism and joy. The challenge, of course, is figuring out how and where to find those elements, and figuring out how (in god's name) to incorporate them into the pain of loss.

My little sister spent the past week in Hamilton, doing the final stages of the doctor appointments, keeping Baba company, and at the end of her stay, she moved Baba to Emmanual House, a palliative care home. Having spent a mere two days in a similar way, I know how exhausting this is. Not that hanging with Baba is arduous at all, but there's an underlying stress that comes with seeing someone you love in a state of constant discomfort and trying to act "normal" about it. Also, did I mention the suckage factor of institutional food? (Happily, Emmanual House has awesome homemade food that Baba's been gorging on.) Anyway, I don't know how my sister did it for a whole week. She is unbelievably stoic.

Also, it sounds like Baba insisted that Julie's fella (who was also in town for part of the week) take her engagement ring-shopping. She may have also forced the couple to set a wedding date. Scott could hardly deny a lady her dying wish, now could he? Yah Baba!

My mother flew to Hamilton yesterday to stay indefinitely. (Well, to stay until there's nothing left to stay for.) She's leaving the Inn in the capable hands of my sister. But my sister won't be alone. My DAD is going out to Canning to help Julie with the Inn. And more importantly, to keep her company while she is by herself, away from the action. So far, he's planning to stay for three weeks. I hope hope hope hope that they'll be able to visit Baba again.

Sweetie McPie is taking over at home with the kids this weekend so I can join my mother for a couple of days. He's looking forward to hanging out with my Dad, who will be staying at our place the night before heading to NS. (I wasn't sure I'd be home for this visit. When I asked McPie if he'd considered looking after Dad in my absence, he was like "Of course! He's my Dad!") He's onboard (without reservations) on making the trip to the Hammer as much as we need to (together as often as we can) in the coming days.

The kids' moms have assured us that they'll swoop in and take the kids if we need to be away, even though they are up to their necks in new house renos, new jobs, and a new longer commute to school.

I'm so proud: my family is amazing. When this kind of love and support comes to readily and unconditionally, it's impossible not to be joyful.

Consolation of philosophy

I spent Monday and Tuesday of this past week in Hamilton, with my Baba. I flew down early Monday morning, and back on Tuesday evening. The purpose was, ostensibly, to go with her to a couple of doctor appointments - partly for transportation, mostly for helping to get the information from the doctor, and understand what was going on. Practically, it was a fantastic opportunity to spend time together.

Recap: Several weeks ago, Baba was really sick in a stomachy sort of way, and she underwent some tests including an ultrasound. The results led her cancer doctor (she's had breast cancer in the past several years and is under the care of an oncologist) to suspect a metastasized cancer in the liver and/or pancreas. The ultrasound raised suspicions, but was not conclusive - a CT scan and further tests were required.

This sort of cancer, of course, in an 83 year old, is not really treatable. So we've been sort off assuming the worst, waiting for the details.

Monday, I took Baba to get the results of the CT scan, and to have some bloodwork done. The doc told us the CT scan did not show any cancer. It did show she had gall stones.

Skip to: I loved spending the two days with Baba. She's in a nursing home, because she's too weak to be as independent as she needed to to be in the seniors home. She's herself (unlike many of her fellow inmates), just really tired. I just sat in the comfy chair by her bed from morning until night both days, chatting with her, napping, occasionally reading. We ate meals together (Institutional food sucks! no wonder everyone's sick!), and she even summoned the energy to go out to a restaurant for lunch. I tucked her in like I do the kids, and that made her giggle.

By the time I left on Tuesday night, I had been enlightened: although no tumours showed on scans, the subsequent blood tests determined she has aggressive cancer in her liver and pancreas.

I got more details from my mother when I was home on Wednesday (after my sister had flown to Hamilton to take up my post next to Baba's bed for the next week): Baba will likely only be with us for a few more weeks.

While I was on the phone with my mother, I may have shed a few tears (see Mom, not coldhearted!) I was on solo duty with the kidlets, and Constance was keeping a close eye on me. When I hung up, she came over to hug me, and ask if I was ok.

I told her I was sad about Baba. (We had already told the kids -- before we took them to visit her, actually -- that Baba is sick and that she will probably die soon.) Constance lamented that she’d only just met her ("it's not fair!"), and she began to cry.

So, she and I had a really good talk about how we (the living, loving ones left behind) console ourselves by trying to understand what happens to our loved ones after they die. Constance isn't Christian (and, I guess it's safe to say, neither am I), so we tossed around lots of ideas. I told her that Baba believes she's going to Heaven, where she will be reunited with her husband and parents and brothers and sisters. I postulated the possibility of the soul (which I tried to define that "the part that makes you you, without your body") being released into the world, where it is free and omniscient. Constance brought up the possibility of returning as another creature. I pointed out that this is a very widely held belief - maybe even more common than Heaven.

Eventually, Constance had the idea that memory could be the equivalent of the soul being released into the world. As in, our memories keep someone "alive" in the afterlife - they live in our hearts.

I know this is not an uncommon notion. But I still think Constance is brilliant and insightful. And I think this concept is true. I described to her how, when my grandparents died, I wasn't sad, because they were very old, and they died relatively suddenly at a time when they were still enjoying life. (As in, they seemed ready.) I would miss them, but I wasn't sad.

Years later however, at certain times - proud moments and stuff - I felt them (or their absence) acutely. I was never really sure if this was "missing" them, because I didn't miss them in daily life - I'd moved on far in life and time. So it seemed to me that these feelings were them, with me in spirit - really, truly living in my heart. Constance thought that made sense.

When we finished talking and started getting ready for bed, we did feel consoled. Probably as much by sharing the sadness with each other, as by our philosophizing.

I recounted the evening and this conversation (as well as the one with my mother) to McPie when he returned from band practice. He told me that when we were visiting on the long weekend, Baba told him not to worry about her being sick and dying, because she was "going straight up there" -- she pointed to the sky, smiling.

When in doubt, blame the kids

Tidying up the kitchen this morning, I came across a particularly cluttered corner of countertop:

"How is it that our entire liquor cupboard has migrated to the counter?"

McPie, as he scoots up the stairs, handily out of reach of the snap of my dishtowel:

"Why is it that I wake up with a headache every day?"

On the latest read

I started responding to Trixie's comment as a comment, but found I had enough to say to warrant a real post. Me? Opinion on a book? Surprising.

I loved Divisadero, though was at first confounded by the split stories (that is, the California vs France stories). Well, not confounded completely. After digesting the ending, I spent half an hour describing the issues to McPie and explaining (ie: working through) the thematic reasons it makes sense. But I read the book really quickly (in two and a half sittings, really), and at the time, I was like WTF?

However, it's beautifully written in traditional Ondaatje style, and both stories were completely compelling (that's why I burned through the book so fast -- I couldn't tear myself away), so I can't complain. The definition he gives for "divisadero" is obviously key, same with one of Anna's final comments about seeing the story of her "siblings" in everything/everywhere, but I'm not sure that gets Ondaatje completely off the hook for the enormous divide in the storylines. Artsy and experimental, fine, but not totally clean IMO. But, a joy to simply read, even if the digestion is not as smooth as the consumption. (Similar to The View from Castle Rock - a pleasure to immerse myself in the sentences at the time, but the overall takeaway was perhaps less than the sum of the parts, possibly for structural reasons...)

I think Trixie may have also said this about Divisadero too: I want to go back and peruse the text more slowly, to absorb some of the images again. (I loved how Rafael carried herbs in his pockets and made meals from almost nothing. I want to be that guy!)

In the Skin of a Lion continues to be my fave. That one stands up to (and improves with) many reads.

We WILL want to line up The Other Side of the Bridge once we're finished Crow Lake. I think McPie and I will do that one together too, since I've heard it's also as suspenseful (which works really well for read-alouds). Maybe I can borrow it when I return Crow Lake and the Alice Munro? ;-)

Back to school blues

A little more than a week ago, Ben was impatiently excited about finally going to school, where he'd be starting grade one.

What was he most looking forward to? "I'm going to learn how to write things."

School started on Thursday, so he had a few days to settle in.

[snip tale of long weekend trip to the Golden Horsheshoe, which involved astham attacks, copious vomit, floods of snot and nursing home shenanigans. Another story completely.]

On Tuesday night, McPie and I were driving Ben home from his mom's place -- they have just moved to a new (old) house, and the requisite unpacking and cleaning were wreaking hovoc with Ben's allergies, so we were going to keep at our place a few extra days.

In the car, we asked Ben if he's enjoying grade one, if he's having fun.

"NO! It's boring. [In Ben's lexicon, "boring" can mean anything from the tradition definition to silly, bad, or unpleasant. Just as "smart" can mean either intelligent or "small". Kid has a dynamic approach to English.] We only do baby things."

Baby things?

"Every day we just draw. The first day and then the next day, just more drawing."

So, you're really eager to do the real stuff, like reading?

"Yes! I want to do REAL school."

McPie and I giggle to ourselves. He tells Ben that when we get home, we can work on some words. Ben is enthusiastic.

"Oh-kay! Let's do some DEVOIRS!"

I really wish I could convey the emphasis with which he exclaimed this. The mix of languages in this context was just priceless. McPie and I were beside ourselves.

Every day this week, he's been pestering to do his devoirs. I don't think he actually has homework to do, but boy is he keen to get going with this reading and writing business. We're doing our best, and I have a feeling that he's coming close upon the a-ha! moment.

Finally

Finished Harry Potter. Phewf! What a ride!

Two nights ago I hit the point of no return and couldn't put it down. This coincided with McPie having band practice one night and a show the next, so I was alone on kid duty. Last night I scurried them off to bed early and stayed up late to finish off the book.

Am I a bad parent if I suggested that the children eat dinner in front of the TV - so I could squeeze in half an hour of reading while eating? Probably... However, Constance called me on it and insisted the three of us eat dinner together at the table. I sucked it up and with effort, cast Harry aside for the moment.

I was rewarded for my sacrifice with a rare* bout of meal-appreciation for the meaty-cheesy spaghetti. Hugs and thank yous and more pleases and subsequent warm-fuzzies abounded.


*I'm exaggerating - meal-appreciation is actually quite common in our house - B & C are great eaters, and are cooperative (even enthusiastic) about trying new things. Last night, however, they were particular effusive in their praise.

Luckity luck luck

I won something! Something good! I never win anything. (I know everyone says this and it's rarely true. I've probably won things before, I just don't remember, and they fade in the light of my excitement over my current win.)

Last night we attended an evening work event. Highly unusual for my company - even our Christmas party is scheduled for the afternoon (though it's catered with good music, entertainment for kids, and whatnot). Anyway, boat cruise on the Ottawa River with buffet dinner, drink tickets (!) and door prizes (!!).

I was so shocked I could barely get up to claim my prize - they almost moved on a drew another ticket. (Well, they probably wouldn't have, but anyway.) I won a gift certificate to Beckta, one of the awesomest restos in the NCC! Extra exciting because McPie has never been there, and we often talk about going... but never get around to it. Maybe we should use it to celebrate our one-month "anniversary"? (McPie calls this the "dust anniversary".)

So, yay!

Also, the boat cruise was quite nice. We had good conversations with coworkers we don't get to chat with enough. Discovered several quirky "small world" connections, and I can't say enough about being out on the water on a calm, beautiful night.

On another note, we made an interesting discovery in the realm of first aid. Or home healthcare, I guess, because curing an ailment that's been ongoing for weeks is hardly "first" aid. Anyway, I've been struggling to manage horrible blisters that I got from new cleats. (New cleats to replace the other awful cleats that gave me blisters on other parts of my feet, and worse. Note that the OTHER toe now looks like that too. You don't want to see pics.) I know once I get the horrible heel blisters healed, the cleats will be great. However, how do you get blisters to heal when they are on a spot that is always being used? Two words:

Nipple cream.

Yep. It was McPie's brilliant idea. Turns out there's some in the cupboard from... well, maybe when the kids were little, but since their mom is a midwife, it's possible that they just had it around. Anyway, McPie has been using it as a cure-all -- kids cracked lips and dry noses and such. I put it last night on wounds that have been trying unsuccessfully to mend for weeks now, and this morning I felt the "healing itch" for the first time.

So, I highly recommend the Lansinoh for general home health care, whether that be horrible blisters from new cleats, or the "sore, cracked nipples" for which it's recommended. (Though I personally have no experience with the latter, I'm sure La Leche League knows what they're talking about...)

That's MRS. McPie to you

Sweetie McPie and I visited Quebec City a few weeks ago for vacation, and while we were there we got married.

Wait, that makes it sound like a spur of the moment thing. Rather, we went to Quebec City for the purpose of wedding. And to enjoy a honeymoon, of course. We'd been planning it for a few months, after deciding earlier this year that it was the very thing we wanted to do.

Technically speaking, I suppose you could say we eloped. In fact, the only person who knew we were going was the friend we asked to sign the application form as a witness. We hired an officiant, and he brought along two witnesses.

We had a most wonderful weekend. We stayed at a lovely Victorian Inn right in the main part of the old city, just down the street from the Chateau Frontenac. We arrived on Thursday night, and spent Friday morning choosing the park for our ceremony. Our officiant had suggested two parks near our Inn, and we chose the quiet secluded one on top of the hill - the Parc du Cavalier du Moulin.

Then we spent some time shopping in the Lower Town for wedding essentials like a purse (for me), a belt (for McPie), and shoes (we both got some). In a pleasant surprise one rarely experiences while shopping, McPie found earrings and a bracelet that would go perfectly with my dress. Lucky me!

After stealing an hour in our room to write down our "readings" (since we had no guests to impress, we planned to replace the typical wedding ceremony readings with an exchange of thoughts and sentiments); we hadn't had time to do it before then! Then we got dressed up and headed out to meet Rev. Lafrance. (It was hot hot hot and sunny, so McPie decided to eschew the new suit he'd gotten for the occasion, and went with the linen shirt and pants he'd packed in just in case. It worked out perfectly. All linen, all around.)

We met Rev Lafrance and the witnesses Claire and Michel (both also officiants) behind the Chateau Frontenac, and slowly walked the block up the hill to the park. It was breezy and shady up there (but still hot!).

And we got married. It was a wonderful, peaceful, moving moment.

After everything was signed and sealed, we sent the Reverend and his fellows on their way. We stayed in the park for awhile, taking some pictures and enjoying some quiet time. Then we walked back to the Inn, and sat in the beautiful lounge enjoying some champagne. We'd planned to take a caleche ride before dinner, but it was so hot they'd taken the horses off the roads. We were ok with that, being quite content to just relax and enjoy our drinks. We decided to saunter over to the Chateau for a proper pre-dinner cocktail.

Our very attentive concierge, however, let us know that the horses were back on the streets (it was after 6 PM), and so we did both - a horse and buggy ride around the old city, and then "Danny" dropped us off in front of the Chateau.

A Long Island Iced Tea and Negroni later, we stumbled down the big hill to dinner (did I mention the champagne? Actually, the stumbling was mostly high heels + steep hill + plantar fasciitis - lovely, I know).

Dinner at Toast! was amazing. We ordered the tasting menu and spend the next five hours amusing our bouches with the tastiest of tidbits, each of which came with a "matching" wine. The walk home may have been stumblier, but I was not aware of whether or not the cobbles hurt my heel-clad feet!

We spent the rest of the weekend touristing around the old city. Some highlights included:

• Our Inn, the Clos St. Louis, was perfect. Totally friendly, lovely, clean, good breakfast (a choice, and not too much food to tempt us into over-indulging too early in the day). They offered us the lounge for our ceremony if the weather was bad; luckily, we didn't have to take them up on it.
  


• Enjoying the drenching downpour from the comfort of the Café St. Malo - a cozy country-French restaurant where we ate on Saturday. It rained so hard the mice ran in and took shelter under our table. Also, the cassoulet was almost as good at McPie's.
  


• A Ghost Walk tour, which ended inside an unlit church at 10:30 PM - very spooky! It was the best way to get a real "feel" for the city's past.
  


• Going for a run on Sunday morning along the Dufferin Terrace, around the Citadel and Plains of Abraham. It's nice to conquer those fusty old icons of the history books with your sneakers.
  


• A picnic in Artillery Park, during which we watched a re-enactment of a 19th century military firing drill (completely coincidental). On the advice of the concierge, we visited J.A. Moisan, "the oldest grocery store in the city". It was a gourmet food/grocery store, and we got lots of yummies there, including chilled white wine which did not last long while we sat in the hot park.

When we returned home, we had a backyard barbecue with the kids and the other Moms, and we told them the news. They were all thrilled and supportive. The Moms were not really too surprised (they'd suspected that at the very least one of us would be proposing on this weekend away.)

It was hard to decide how to let the rest of the family and our close friends know. We didn't really want to put anyone on the spot by cold calling. So we made little announcements to send out, which we did last week, just before we went away to Nats. Apparently, there was a bit of a weekend rumour mill going, because the family in Ontario found out before the family in Nova Scotia (Mom! Sister!) See, even when you downplay everything as much as humanly possible, wedding drama is always unavoidable. Sigh.

We already felt like a family, which is why it made perfect sense to us to go all official. A quiet, private celebration felt the most suitable for us. We've been private, quiet, and celebratory all along. I didn't think it would be possible to feel like MORE of a family, but it already does. The happy surprises just don't stop around here.

If you want to see some photos, click the picture below... I'm hoping to upload more shots from the rest of the vacation soon.



[edit: I have no explanation for the strange spacing change in the body of this post. I've fiddled, and can't fix it. So be it.]

And we're off

Well, the kids are off to the cottage with their Moms; Neighbour Kid has been given remedial Findley-care training; cleats, gatorade and ibuprofen is packed; McPie is working on making sandwiches for the drive.

We're off to Nationals!

The competition this year will be stiff - it's a qualifying tournament for Worlds, which means the winner of each division gets to represent Canada at the World Championships in 2008. (I think it's an every-four-years thing.) For example, McPie's team is the defending Masters division champion, but there are twice as many teams in the competition than there were last year!

As for my team, CatFish - we are a wildcard team, seeded in last place (of 16 women's teams). We plan to play hard, stick together, score some points, and hope that this effort will let us beat our seed. We've never played a tournament all together, so the results should be at least interesting. Worth a good rant or rave, depending...

Full report next week! Plus the promised Quebec City rundown. It'll be fun - I promise!

Turns out, it's not about the food

Our cat has his "issues". I shall not list them here, but the key items we deal with daily are his eating habits (fussy - how to keep him from starving to death) and his relentless attention. (The blood and vomit remain only secondary annoyances.)

We went away for the weekend - four nights actually. Not wanting to impose on the Moms and kids that much (it's a 15 minute drive to our place, and we always lean on them for this), we enlisted the Neighbour Kid (NK) to "care" for Findley while we were away.

It didn't go so well.

We were both worried, because experience has shown that NK isn't the brightest bulb. But Sweetie McPie talked to her mom, her older brother was going to help supervise, there were demos, etc.

Findley was stubborn, NK's wits failed her, and we came home to house full of open cat food cans, vomit and many, many house flies.

Findley, surprisingly, seemed kind of ok. But it soon became clear that despite not having eaten much over the days we were away, it was the fact that we were FINALLY HOME YOU G-D TRAITORS that solved all his problems. Once we arrived home, he slept for two days straight, and didn't open his mouth say boo when he woke up. My theory: lack of parentals causes him stress, causing him not to eat (or sleep), which causes NK to freak out and open every can of cat food in the house, leave them scattered about in 30 degree weather, requiring that we adult humans spend half an hour after midnight on the day of our homecoming killing two dozen (minimum) houseflies.

But oh, the peace and quiet. And the cuddles. Here is Findley, recovering from the trauma of parental betrayal:


Because I apparently can't shut up about my cat, the deets on our vacay in Quebec City must remain yet to come. But, preview: New shoes; and, aren't my feet looking much better?


Didn't McPie do a nice job on my toenails?

it totally figures

Months ago, I pre-ordered my copy of the new Harry Potter book, because I knew I'd want to get started on it, but would have a hard time getting to the store to pick it up. (Yes, I know they make it VERY accessible. But me+stores=rarity. Esp during ulti season.) Also, it was highly discounted.

Well. It arrived today. We settled in to wind down after a night of kids (me) and frisbee (McPie)... He turned on the movie we rented for the kidlets (Twister! its way worse than I remember it - the computer effects did not age well), and I pulled out The Deathly Hallows.

Two pages in, and the third page begins to fall out. Yes, the first oh, 20 pages were spontaneously detaching from the spine of the book. The spine wasn't so much broken as not glued together in the first place. Nice. So much for that.

Needless to say, I'm returning my defective product tout suite. With no small degree of disgruntlement. Harry Potter will have to wait. (Luckily, we have a full weekend of touristy goodness in Quebec City planned, so I'll likely manage to keep my mind off it.)

Apparently, I'll be the last one to read the final Harry Potter. So please, I beg you, DO NOT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS!!

Because we are total, utter geeks

We used our freebie to go to the park and practice frisbee.

The threatening weather that caused the game cancellation didn't transpire during the evening, and we wanted a workout. We put on our cleats (yes, we're THAT geeky) and headed to the soccer field at Lac des Fées. The program: disc reading and jumping while running. McPie is very good at these things, so he was the master, I was the student. For once. (Kidding!)

Full disclosure to illustrate the level of geekiness that you maybe haven't fully grasped yet: McPie rigged up a tool to aid in the jumping while running drill. Extensible curtain rod with velcro + disc with velcro = a frisbee dangling overhead to run at and jump up to grab. Do you know how many times in ten minutes you can run at a hanging frisbee, when you don't have to take the time to throw and retrieve? A LOT.

It was SO cool.

In my defense, I have an excuse. I found out yesterday that I'm going to get to play on a women's team at Nationals (it's Toronto this year). Suddenly, I need to learn/hone skills, not to mention get fit enough to play nine games in three days (hey wait - I got close this week, right?) The tournament begins August 9th...

So, the practicing is more about confidence that actual skill development, and I find the former affects the game tremendously. I've been over at Victoria's Island, being inspired by the stories of racing, and the mental gymnastics that go along with competition. Feeling strong is darn near as important as being strong... and with only 19 days to go before the first game, it's more realistic fix my brain than my body! ('Course, that might be just as deluded.)

Also, I think I maybe should get myself some new cleats before the big tourney. You think?

*Warning: do NOT click on the picture to view a close-up. Ew.
(This may look familiar to you frisbee players, but it's never happened to me before, after seven years. It's the cleats! And I reserve the right to whine about it. Because I am such a delicate flower.)

The best possible dilemma

After nine games of ultimate in four days, we had last night "off", just in time to get some stuff done. Groceries, pharmacy, lots of cleaning (kitchen! vacuuming! BOTH bathrooms! McPie even scrubbed the kitchen floor!), and made some progress on a little project we've got on the go.

Now, we've just found out that our frisbee games are canceled tonight. No frisbee, no kids, no housework left to do... A blessed FREEBIE!

What shall* we do?! Dinner out? Go shopping-for-fun? Rent a movie? Go OUT to a movie? (We have no idea what's good out there these days.) Install the new ceiling fan we bought two months ago? Read&knit? We've got Crow Lake on the go, thanks to Trixie. Also, I'm trying to get around to posting an updated pic of the Green Goblin, which is now down past my waist. Which is actually quite a ways from my hips, but still. I think their might be knitting elves in the house (or McPie is knitting on the sly), because I don't know when I would've made that progress.

Maybe stay home and take turns calling long-lost friends and family?

Hopefully we won't be paralyzed into inertia by the overwhelming possibilities. From what I understand, So You Think You Can Dance was on LAST night.

*Notice how I didn't say "what should we do"?

'Tis the season

It's frisbee season, when most other areas of recreation are pushed aside, pushed back, or pushed under to make way for it.

Knitting, reading, blogging, house keeping, cooking, even jogging... These are things that become neglected in my life from mid-May until the end of August. I can hardly regret it, since I adore the sport, and it covers many bases: recreation, socializing, exercise, and even family time since Sweetie McPie and I often play together, watch each other play, and have lots to talk about on the topic. We bring the kids to our league games - they're sometimes bored, but often then enjoy playing outside, interacting with our teammates, and we often stay afterward to throw (er, "throw") the disc with them. Constance thinks we're very cool for being able to run around like we do at our age!

Although frisbee makes up a big part of our social life in the summer, it's not really the important part of our social life. I'm ashamed to admit that it's hard to keep in touch with anyone who we don't run into in person - which happens to be our closest friends and family. The days fly by, and suddenly I haven't talked to Mum or Dad or Taller Funner Sister or Comic Sister or Susie-Q in weeks that are threatening to become months. And then I get dragged back down into the fray... Which, after a weekend of seven games of frisbee, with another two nights of league play upcoming, is really just the need to SLEEP. After eating.

And see... It's time to get changed to run off to my game, so I can't even finish, or make my real point.

Picture perfect vacation

Our week at a cottage north of Peterborough was amazing. We did away with as many rules as possible (except for the safety-related ones, of course), and basically did nothing but relax, swim, sunbathe, read, eat, chat, and watch a few movies. The children transformed into true Cottage Creatures. Findley was in feline heaven, with so much space inside and out.

McPie roused himself on the last day and devised an ingenious treasure hunt, with maps, hidden clues, and buried treasure (candy jewels and real money!). The treasure hunt was prefaced with a little Fear Factor action. Apparently, Corona = Ew! Pee! in the mouths of children.

In general, the week was an amazing opportunity to escape every stress of real life, and spend real time with family. McPie's mum, sisters and niece and nephew joined us for the week, so it we finally had a chance to visit unhurried. And happily, good cookin' runs in the family!

Here is a photologue of our cottage life. Excuse the formatting (I'm tired of fiddling).

The first day, the kidlets were eager to sail the stormy seas of Clear Lake in the rowboat. The boys rowed, the girls heckled.

Ready, aye, ready.

Heave!

Will ya look at these jokers?

Land, ho!

The cottage's property was just-unkempt-enough. Rustic but charming. Most importantly, the entrance to the lake was nice, the water was refreshing but not too cold, and the bunkie was stocked with plenty of water toys.

"Tuba mask"

Flotation devices facilitated relaxation, even on the water.

What's a cottage without a hammock? It was a favourite place to relax, and could accomodate multiple occupants.

Boys like to cuddle too.

Mom McPie caught napping

Inside, the cottage was also rustic yet charming. There was no phone, but there was a TV and DVD player. Mostly importantly, there was plenty of space for all of us to spread out.

Indoor shenanigans.

Findley's been known to relax anywhere...

Unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of the wildlife - otters in the rocks by the dock, falcons soaring overhead daily, loons floating peacefully past the end of the dock, and the usual frogs, crayfish, and daddy-long-legs that kept the kids amused.

If you imagine you hear a loon calling when you look at these, you wouldn't be far off...

Likely old news, but...

So You Think You Can Dance? be damned; this video made me cry. At work. Real tears. Two of them.

Bureaucracy: hurdled. Language: lamented.

We went away for a week to a cottage that we rented. All the "Ontario summer cottage" clichés applied. It was divine. I will post an update with the details soon. There will be pictures.

In other news:
I think I finally have a health card. A temporary paper one, but the real thing is in the works. It was a strange process. After much perusing of web sites, and calls to the Régie de l'Assurance blahblahblah, I determined that I needed to visit a local community health centre to make my application. We stopped in on the way home from work. I had my pictures, a variety of documents "proving" my address, and the application I received from the province. Most importantly, I had Sweetie McPie with me. (And that's not a gushy afterthought. His presence had real, practical implications!)

It turned out that none of my documents (bank statement, income tax statement from the province of Quebec) were valid proof that I lived where I said I lived. In Quebec. I had an INCOME TAX STATEMENT FROM THE PROVINCE OF QUEBEC!!! Dated two months ago! But that didn't prove I lived in Quebec. (At this point, I turned to McPie and commented with much bitterness about all the $$ I blithely chucked at the QC gov't for living in the the province for a mere three months. Because I am honest. Grr.)

No, I needed a municipal tax bill (gas, hydro, etc), or rent receipt or something more... concrete. I pointed to McPie: "But, all the bills are in HIS name!" (And of course, although the clerk spoke better English that I did French - which is always the case in Hull - there was a still language barrier that precluded a more philosophical argument of the issue.)

The clerk turned to McPie, and they proceeded to discuss en français. She directed him to write down on a piece of paper that I live with him at the address noted. She turned to her colleague who was a "commissaire" (notary), and got her to also sign this affadavit. She checked McPie's driver's license. (*I* have a Quebec driver's license!!) He didn't have show any of the documents that they had wanted from moi.

Then she stamped a few things, gathered the goods to send away (my ORIGINAL birth certificate, pictures, and McPie's affadavit), gave me an piece of paper to serve as my interim card, and sent us on our way.

It seems quite fishy to me. There seem to be holes in the process. I also suspect language bias. But that's my fault, isn't it? (I'm not being facetious. My lack of language is getting more and more tricky, not to mention embarrassing de temps en temps.)

I'm going to have to sign up for La Constance et Ben Ecole de Langue en Français. Toot Sweet.

For my fans

Kashi Go Lean +
Bran Buds +
PC Ancient Grains +
flax meal +
bee pollen +
plain yogurt +
drizzle of honey +
splash of milk =

---

Breakfast of (mortal) champions.


Or, as we Angle-Gatinoise say, champignons.

Confessions of a closet TV watcher

I'm watching "So You Think You Can Dance?".

I love it.

Granted, it's like the "finals". Or something like that. I don't really know how these shows work. I assume that the embarrassing tryouts would be intolerable. All I know is the dancing is really kicking ass.

It occurs to me that I LOVE watching dancing. I thought it was just ballet that got me going but no, dancing in general seems to do it. Don't know where it comes from; it's not something I or anyone in my family does, as a rule. (Though my dad is a pretty peppy lead.)

It was so cool seeing all the different styles. I didn't start watching until Ashlee and Ricky, who's music was awesome. My fave number (see, I've got the lingo!) was obviously Sara and Jesus - it' was electric. They were so unfair to the Russian girl doing the hip hop. She was awesome.

(Hm. I love ballet; I fall asleep at operas. I'm guiltily lapping up So you Think You Can Dance; I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would spend as much as 30 seconds watching American Idol. (I've even tried, to no avail.) I can remember word for word things I've read on a page; recited poetry or aloud reading sounds like a different language to me unless it's rreeaalllly rreeaalllly ssllooww. Think I'm visually oriented?)

The TV thing: McPie is at a show tonight, and I'm home with the kids. They are now sleeping. I'm lost in my moment of freedom. So I watch TV.

(We had an awesome night: visit from Maman solidified the kids' good mood; at dinner they were all "Yummy supper Hevver! Thank you!" (magic to a parents' ears); and there were presents from Dad...new clothes for everyone - even me! - he'd snuck off to Old Navy at lunch time today.)

Another confession - I'm not even knitting while watching TV. Though I may pick it up. Friday Night Lights is on next...

(I promise that as soon as FNL is over, I'll get back to Alice Munro. McPie won't be home til midnight... Lots of time. And I'm avoiding work.)

What hurts more than a half marathon?

Ok, other than an actual marathon?

A frisbee tournament. Most especially Gender Blender. After the first tournament of the summer, every year, I think to myself "Why? WHY do I inflict such pain on my body?" Also, I shake my fists at the gods.

Six or more games of frisbee crammed into a 16 hour period; games which are intermingled with snacking, tending blisters and/or injuries, drinking beer, dancing, general carousing with teammates and rivals, and a few short hours of sleep when our bodies finally capitulate.

And then the six hour drive home.

It's totally addicting. Working your body as hard as you can within a team situation is one of the most incredible experiences I've discovered. There are ups and downs and aches and pains, wins and losses, but regardless of all that, the overwhelming feeling at the end of it all is one of camaraderie and accomplishment. (I know it sounds utterly cheesy, but it's so very TRUE!) And the buzzing I feel in muscles and joins is thrilling even when it's uncomfortable.

Every year, I know that the tourneys for the rest of the summer will get easier and easier. It's the first one that hurts the most. And GB is the hardest, because of the skewed beer:frisbee:sleep ratio.

That was a digression. I meant to describe our weekend at Gender Blender per se. In a nutshell: camping tournament, our team was a Roman legion, we carted our ark of "bull's blood" (ie: cocktail) around to distribute to the masses in a magnificent chariot built by Sweetie McPie. McPie and I avoided painful hangovers and were able to play hard, though our skills need refining after a winter away from the disc. Our team went 3-3. It was HOT. Edging toward 30 degrees and sunny - but we came away with sunburn free. Pictures to come...

Traffic through the GTA is HORRIFIC. We took the ETR to avoid the worst, but to no avail. There was nothing "E" about it - we PAID to sit on a parking lot north of Toronto. Ottawa to Peterborough (300 km) took the same amount of time as Scarborough - Fergus (100 km). We vowed to never move back to Southern Ontario, where the urban seems relentless and inescapable.

All in all, it appears that the weekend shenanigans miraculously cured my plantar fasciitis. Either that, or the usual discomfort I normally feel in my foot simply pales in comparison to the discomfort I felt for the next couple of days in my calves, hamstrings, quads, abs... We've pretty much taken this week off from all activity, including laundry, vacuuming, getting out of bed...

We're looking forward to another one-day tourney this coming Saturday, a fundraiser for CHEO. It's the day after our Wine Club meeting (rumour has it we're visiting New Zealand!), so it will be interesting to see how our bodies fare.

A Sunday saunter

The weather for yesterday's National Capital marathon and half marathon was perfect. Overcast and slightly cool, a little humid, with a light drizzle starting partway through (near the end for marathoners). Sounds dreary, but it's perfect for a long run.

Me and Sweetie McPie ran the half marathon. We won! Seriously, I think just about anyone who finishes these races must feel like they've won.

Reality:

Our chip time was 1 hr 55 min 52 seconds. Technically, I was 1:55:51.9 and McPie was 1:55:52.6, but that's just because I'm the more experienced runner. (I.e: my elbows are sharper.) Kidding. We resisted linking arms, and satisfied ourselves with maintaining fine sprinting form as we crossed the line.

It wasn't a PB for me, but it was better than I expected given our level of training. (Our long run training was fine, but I didn't do much mid-week work - just jogging home from work a few times a week, with a few 10k in there - no speed work. And almost no frisbee.) However, it was the most enjoyable race I've done. Running with the Pie was most excellent. In the last four or five kilometres, we felt like Maverick and Goose, our communication limited to agreeing on a target to reel in, and encouraging each other as we slowly closed the gap. We zigged and zagged all over the road, too, trying to keep pace and stay with amid the bazillion other runners. It was so cool.

Ok, there were 7664 other half-marathoners (we placed 3002 and 3003!), and they weren't ALL in our direct vicinity, but it sure felt like it. This was my third time in this race, and it was by far the most packed. I'd heard that they'd capped registration, but I'm not sure what the point was, it was so crowded.

Another cool: The new course winds near our house around the 6 km mark. The kids' moms brought them over and they all cheered us as we passed. Constance had made a big sign, and Ben ran alongside (actually somewhat in our path) for a half a block. How fun is that?

One of the BEST things about any race day is the FOOD. This year, we treated ourselves to a giant brunch with the family and Pete&Emma, our running pals (Pete kicked our butts in the race: 1:53:39.9; Emma cheered us on: Suck Less!) The other Moms had done the 10K race the night before, so it was a well-deserved celebration all round. To top it off, the kids' Maman had given us a gift of delicious steaks so we could have a champions dinner.

(Is it wrong to feed your kids shake 'n bake chicken legs while you eat premium steaks? Constance led us to believe so, and thus scored herself many bites of our meal. The shake 'n bake - McPie's special recipe, of course - was also delicious, so I don't really think anyone suffered...)

Anyway, now we are pumped to train our butts off and try another race and blow our PB times out of the water. 1hr45 anyone? The Fall Colours race always happens on Thanksgiving and it's pretty nice to come home and have a turkey dinner after a long run. (Even if you have to make it yourself!)