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.