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!!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
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?
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.)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
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"?
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"?
Monday, July 16, 2007
'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.
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.
Monday, July 9, 2007
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.
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. 
Will ya look at these jokers?
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"
If you imagine you hear a loon calling when you look at these, you wouldn't be far off...
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...
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Likely old news, but...
So You Think You Can Dance? be damned; this video made me cry. At work. Real tears. Two of them.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
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.
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.
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