Happy New Year

It's been a busy year. Much drama and many changes. We're feeling the loss of what we left behind in Alberta rather sharply right now. More than anything this moment, I want to go home to my people and my farm. But, still, I know spring here on the island comes sooner and I can hold on for a few more months and see how I feel once the sun begins to stay out later than tea time again. We will definitely being going home next year for Christmas.

Thinking back over the past year, some things come to mind. I wish that I was somehow more profound and mature, having made so many changes, but I'm afraid that the only real change I've experienced is that I now have a glass of wine after the kids are in bed.

Still, I've encountered many new things these past 12 months. Here is a totally random list of some things I've learned in 2009:

- it is not only possible to take off your underwear without removing your gymnastics bodysuit, but it's fun too (thanks, Smootch).

- it is best to wait until the cat does his morning business in the box before you transport him to his new home.

- for sale by owner is a rough road to go. But I still don't regret it.

- good times is about people, not places.

- one car + two children + two adults + two cats + three days = all the excuse you need to buy more wine.

- garbage sucks but sea glass is cool.

- when you have two or more small children you should take as many pictures as possible, because you are never going to find time to fill out their baby books.

- if a car is going to break down just one time a year, it will always be just as you are boarding a ferry.

- if children start to whine you should feed them and put them to bed. There is no other cure.

- getting rid of all my stuff sucks. Sure it's a burden, but so is reacquiring it all, because there is, in fact, a reason why you bought it all in the first place.

- Still, I really do not need much to live my life. Just some food, shelter, shower, and a good book. Oh, and a laptop, internet connection, telephone, and a shelf for my book. A bed too. With sheets, and maybe some towels for the shower. Plus dishes and pots and pans, and the kids could really use some toys and books of their own. Also, a couch, a lamp, a desk, a bedside table (for my glasses). And some roller skates. But other than that, I really don't need much.

I hope that you guys can also benefit from these things I have learned.

Happy New Year
xoxo

hello family

Hope everyone is having a good holiday. We are terribly, sadly lonely here, with no family or friends. But don't cry for us, we've got chocolate, palt, and roller skates by the beach. So, you know, we're doing ok.

For those of you who were worried we were going to give you junk for Christmas again, you can stop dreading the post. This year, we've decided to support handmade and have actually gone even more eco-friendly. I hope this isn't too much of a spoiler, but if it hasn't arrived yet, Here is a preview of your gift. Don't worry about the extravagance of your present. We wanted to get you something special because, frankly, you rock.

Love you, Merry Christmas xoxo

rolling

Mission: To fight the fear and (re)learn how to roller skate, while ignoring the voice in my head reminding me that I am 30 plus years old and probably more suited to drinking sticky drinks than to have sticky skates.

My last time on roller skates was when I was about 10 years old. It would of been the same summer I broke my wrist navigating a curb, being the super awesome skater I was.

I may have taken awhile to jump back on this horse, but I learned myself up good. Check out my armor:


Check out my smile :D

Skills learned:

1) Stopping; using snowplow method (great for when I have 20 or more feet clear before actual cessation of movement becomes necessary).

2) Turning; by shifting my weight to one side. It's finally good for something.

3) Falling; by standing in one spot, squeezing eyes closed, and following the directions provided by slapstick pantomime of person making flinging themselves from a great height onto a very hard surface from The Man who is standing on the other side of the nearly sound-proof plexiglass. Someday I will learn to fall accidentally.

today's moments

most familiar: hugging both children at once, with one wrapped over each shoulder, sweetly enjoying their warmth and love until the back of my head gets knocked as they start swiping at each other behind me.

gluttonous: checking out 63 books from the library. And then spotting another interesting cover on the way out of the building, going back, and checking it out too.

most old couple-ish: when both kids were finally sleeping, having The Man clap his hands together and say, "Okay! Let's get some shit done!" Housework is the new romance.

yummiest: The Man made cabbage rolls for lunch.

most irritating: having the toddler catapult an entire cabbage roll at my head during lunch.

freakiest: buying black leggings of the type I haven't worn since I was ten and bicycle shorts were all the rage. I've already worn them.

weirdest: having the boy repeatedly ask me to give him snake bites on first one forearm and then the other. Repeatedly. At first I say no, but after being asked for a solid 10 minutes, I really, really feel like he deserves a couple.

slackerish: having a 20 minute nap (every night) while I help Smootch fall asleep.

slackerish part II: blogging rather than tackling the dishes.

worrisome: bringing in an armload of wood for the stove, dropping it into the wood bin, and then watching as dozens of spiders and ants are flung into the floor from the impact.

most horrifying: bra shopping with the preschooler ("I don't know, mom, they just don't look right from down here.")

most liberating: buying a bra for the first time in 6 years that doesn't have easy access flaps.

funniest: After sending the kids off to clean up a mess they made, Smootch whispers to Birdie, with the camaraderie of a fellow inmate, "I know. She's pretty mean, eh?"



You don't know that half of it kids. Wait until you actually comprehend what a blog is, my sweet darlings, and the public horrors you will face. Remember, it's all because I love you so much!

Mwaahahahaha!!!!!!

princess sticky skates rides again

I don't want to overwhelm you with pictures of Smootch skating (but, I could, if you like :D) but I had to post just one more. This kid slays me. Her latest dramatic play involves her being a princess who's domineering and evil mother won't let her derby because princesses aren't supposed to play rough sports. I suggested that maybe she make the 'mother' in her game a 'step mother', whom her father shacked up with after her own sweet mama died in a horrific derby accident (though, I suppose I'd rather be the bitch than dead). Smootch considered my version for a moment before she looked me in the eyes and said, 'No, I think I'll stick to the regular mean mom.' And I guess that's all there is to say about that.

We're waiting for it to stop raining before we can get outside and get rolling. Smootch has been able to skate around the house a bit, her bearing are pretty tight and she rolls a bit slower, but mine fly like mad and trying to move around a 5 foot square space is an invitation to muscle cramps in the legs. Getting going at the same time as having to stop is plain silliness. I can't wait for a couple dry days.

princess sticky skates' living room roller derby

It's surprising how much speed one can pick up in a 65 foot long trailer. We had to pry the skates off her feet after brushing her teeth so we could get her into bed. She's picked herself off the ground more times today than when she was learning to walk. And she's been studying roller derby tutorials on youtube (she paid particular attention on how to hip check your opponent). So, you know, be warned.

monday

For those of you in Alberta: ha! Look, the boy is out in a t-shirt and the ground is bare!


For those of you in New Zealand: oh, no, the kid is in a toque it's so damn cold!

xoxo

the irrepressable glamour of my life

I was completely convinced today was Wednesday... of next week. I don't know how, but my brain jumped ahead a whole five days and I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that it's Friday. Even Smootch knows what day it is. She was trying to tell me that today was the 4th of December, but told her she had to be wrong because it was Wednesday.

Wow.

Maybe it's got something to do with this:


My increasing connectivity. Between working on the computer, email, facebook, my blogs, skype and my new found love of playing YouTube roulette while doing dishes in order to escape the desire to punch myself in the head with the tedium of it all, I'm sort of losing track of real life here.

Apparently I think blogging about it will help.

I'm not the only one with a media obsession. Smootch is still embroiled in her Sailor Moon phase (I know, every female under the age of 25 has had one, yes?) and, being the independent creative sort that see potential in almost anything, it's terribly difficult to distract her from it.

Smootch is very serious about her fun.


Let me state that Sailor Moon is completely inappropriate for five year olds. The whole, "I Will Punish You!" thing has way too many bad connotations for casual use around the house and during play. There's also Smootch's refusal to be called any other affectionate nickname but "meatball head". This is the sort of thing that may affect me long term.

Superheros and special powers are just beginning to enter Smootch's consciousness. She's just getting the good vs. evil thing. I'm pretty sure she thought Sailor Moon was exclusively a love story between Serena and Darrin, and sometimes that guy at the arcade, until about a month ago when she finally noticed that there seemed to be some sort of point to all the costume changes the Sailor Scouts were doing. The transformation from ordinary mortal to super being is starting to seep into her dramatic play. Wands are more now than to just wave around. They can also shoot people. My girl is actually starting to turn almost every pointy object in her hand into a gun. I can't wait to hear how that fits into everyone's gender theories.

It is, of course, all about power. Or, rather, Power, with a capital 'P'. Special abilities, super powers and guns are her drama of choice now. She wants to rule the world and smite any enemies who get in her way. She will punish you!

Sitting at supper tonight, as I finally figured out today was day it really is, I had to tell Smootch she was right about the date all along. It's worth it to tell her that she's right just to watch the gleeful smile spread across her face (she loves being right). But then I jokingly accused her of stealing my special power to know what day it is. Her face registered some shock - I can steal powers?! - and then cunning - What other powers can I steal? That's my girl.

I asked Smootch, "If you could steal any super power from another person, what super power would you steal and from whom?" Smootch responded immediately with, "Auntie Cathee's k-words." A 'K-word' belongs to the same catagory of words a the 'F-word', so named by a preschooler who really couldn't see any difference between one letter or another when initially introduced to the subject of forbidden words. Smootch has heard a whole lot of K-words in her life, partly because of aforementioned Auntie and partly because her mother has no filters that tells her what is and what is not okay to say while in the presence of children. My kids aren't particularly innocent in that realm, and thus have to learn when it's appropriate to curse and who it's appropriate for.

Smootch believes that K-words are powerful, maybe like her Auntie, and that merely speaking them will punish your enemies. Tonight Smootch asked for a special treat. I said, no, automatically, thinking that she's asking for more ice cream or truffles (The Man has been busy in the kitchen) but instead she asked to be able to say a 'K-word'. More amused than I, perhaps, should be, I said, yes, but only once and if...

Before I could finish, Smootch triumphantly yelled out, "Shit!" And with a huge, world conquering grin, went to sleep.

I can't tell anymore if this parenting gig of mine is going terribly wrong or terribly right. But I do know we are all having a lot of fun.

Have a good weekend everyone. And thanks Auntie Cathee, for the LunaRock cd and K-words. It's too bad that you don't like kids because they sure like you.

sticks and rolling stones (warning: very frank and open discussion ahead)

Apparently little brothers are good for more than just teaching to run up and down the halls screaming or convincing to go sneak leftover Halloween candies. They are also handy to have around for comparative anatomy. Smootch has been wondering lately just what exactly did happen to her penis? Good question.

At first we told her that we took her penis off in order to grow her brother. As in he grew like a sprout from a penis, which is actually how he probably views himself - a penis that just so happens to have a boy attached - given how much he seem to enjoy the fleeting moments of access during baths and diaper changes. Smootch took us seriously for about a fifth of a second before she decided we were as full of it as the cat box. Seems she actually already knows a frightful amount about reproduction and could probably qualify to teach prenatal classes. Our second attempt at misinformation, telling Smootch that they had to plug the hole she had in her heart as an infant with an extra part - a penis graft, if you will - was also summarily dismissed.

Finally, in a lapse of imagination, I told her the truth: she never had a penis and most likely never would. Smootch was a little ticked off, I mean, look at how much fun Birdie has with his, but was interested enough in the following anatomical discussion to set aside her irritation. As it happened, in the course of our very frank and open conversation, the word 'clitoris' entered Smootch's vocabulary. Upon further reflection, Smootch figured that a clitoris was the female counterpart to a penis. Belonging only to females, the clitoris is actually the epitome of femaleness, which, with her five year old gender rigidity, also means the very essence of femininity. Sort of like girls are princesses and boys are either princes or frogs. Right, mom?

Yesssssss. I suppose.

"Then I'll be Princess Clitoria, and you can be the Queen," says Smootch.

Uh-oh.


In other news, I've somehow committed myself to learning to roller skate. Or, I should say re-learn, since I fancy I was somewhat of an diva of the Almost-Competent roller skating set when I was younger. At least I was until grade five, when I sort of broke a bone and stuff. After that I was forced to drop out of the Almost-Competent set down to the Danger-to-Self-and-Others skill level.

Ahem.

But, as it happens, Smootch is completely gobsmacked by all sorts of strange wheeled and bladed boots. She loves ice skating. She cruises right along with out holding onto anything, which means she's got me beat. Her father was a power skater as a youth ("It sucked, though." Edit: he sucked. Sorry. The Man has just clarified.), but her grandpa was pretty good on his pointy, slidey boots, so maybe there's something there. Anyway we look at it, the whole skating thing seems to make her excited enough to bug us every bloody day to hit the ice, so we take her take her every chance we have.

And then she found out about roller blades. By a girl who would climb over playground equipment in them no less. Oy-vey. My position was that she could get a pair in the spring, along with the necessary safety equipment (no need to break bones and stuff) and, hey, go have fun kid. But there's this whole thing with dad going ice skating with her. Shouldn't, in the interest of fairness and balance (another five year old thing) Mom go roller blading with her?

Um, no.

I've owned roller blades for years and spent a total of five minutes on them. I don't think it's going to happen. Nope.

Somehow, though, roller derby has come up in our family culture. You know roller derby. It's that very strange thing people used to do back when roller disco was something people could talk about without laughing. Where you race around a track and knock each other over? Well, it's back in popular culture (though it never actually left completely) and there is a roller derby league now in almost every town. Hey, there's even new movies about it. Hmmmm. Fun stuff!

We've been doing some explorations (okay, watching You Tube videos) and, damn, I can see now why it's the fastest growing sport among women with children. Roller skates and cool nicknames like 'Calamity Carnage' and 'Haul Ass Hanna' and stripey tights and naughty underwear and helmets and, yes, hitting people! Good stuff for moms! I probably don't need to mention this, but moms generally have some rage to work out. And they aren't particularly afraid of pain, being on the other side of child birth and all.

I'm in!

Oh, wait. I can't actually roller skate. Well, only there's only one way to fix that. You can see Smootch grinning ear to ear when she figures out what I'm thinking. "Hey, mom, are we going to get some roller skates? Like, now? Now? Now?"

So, I said, yes, we can look into getting roller skates and yes, we can do it soon, since we'll probably be able to use the pavement throughout most of the winter here, and yes, yes, yes.

Now. Ish.

I'll keep you updated on my bid to break bones and stuff. In the meanwhile, I'll be trying to think up a funky handle for when I become a roller girl. What do you all think of 'Queen Clitoria'?

the organizational man

I know I'm not supposed to compare my children (as if) and if I do, I certainly shouldn't go on about it (but people with blogs always go on about things), and I definitely shouldn't be applying over-simplied cliches to them (me bad sociology major) but I find the similarities and differences between Smootch and Birdie continuously fascinating. Why are they similar in some ways? It it genetic or they way they are being raised, or it because they are growing together and, like anyone who spends a lot of time with someone else, they tend to develop similar interests and characteristics? What about their differences? And how much is it got to do with them wanting to individualize themselves or stages in their lives or social programming or vaginas vs. penises?

(Okay, maybe me good sociology major... there's a reason why I was able to stand four years of the stuff.)

Even more so, I find children to be interesting to watch all in themselves. People watching in general is absorbing, and people watching on the level of observation from conception and onwards is the greatest journey. What a blessing it is to have a front row seat.

Both kids have, of course, secret inner lives that I can only glimpse from time to time. I try not to intrude too much there. They are vulnerable, particularly to me, Mama: giver of food and hugs, and I have this feeling like I'd be like a rhino in a restaurant, banging into the furniture and knocking over all their careful constructs. I am content to sit outside and guess what's inside.

With two kids there is an added bonus of different manifestations of their stages of development. Smootch, as brilliant as she is, still only made, say, half the list of what your baby/toddler/preschooler may be doing put out by the What to Expect type popular literature. For instance, Smootch never did wild tantrums as a toddler, or were so rare as to not even register. She always, even as an infant, would sit down and listen to as many stories as you had the breath to read. She did 24 piece puzzles at 18 months. She can't throw a ball to save her life. She follows instructions and works on pleasing people (for the mixed blessing that is). I had no idea that kids could be different. I thought it was my wise parenting that was producing such a smart and focused kid.

Ha.

Birdie is the other part of the list. He is so the tantrum drama. He'd rather throw a book than read it. He does not listen. If he doesn't physically experience something (read: grab, shake, poke, taste and eventually smack his sister with), he will not be able to learn about it. There is no still, only action. Even his little feet are always roving around, kicking, and scratching with his impossible to cut toe nails. He frequently tosses puzzle pieces a good 6 feet.

None of this is terribly surprising, given our ideas about girls vs. boys or birth order.

But these kids are full of curve balls. As soon as we think we have them pegged, "THIS is what this kid is about," they show us that they are, after all their own persons. Theory says, Smootch is the fussy, tidy first born girl. Not so, on any level. Smootch is an incredible slob. She thinks it's funny to see how long she can go with ketchup on her face before someone holds her down and washes it off. She keeps nothing organized. She is a girl who lives in her ideas and inspirations and can not be bothered with the mundane details of actually knowing where stuff is. (hmmmmm... sounds familiar.......)


It probably works out well that she is a genius of improv and able to create almost any prop needed with a bit of glue, paper, and felt pens. She thinks, "I can't find my magic wand. Guess I'll just make another one!" And is happy doing just that.

Birdie Boy, Mr. baby jock, is, in huge contrast, rather neat with his things. He's loves to clean up. He tidies with glee. He lines up, organizes, sorts according to colour and shape. (Smootch never did that. The shape sorting toy was her arch nemesis as a toddler.) Birdie can actually be a bit anal about some things, like having his hands cleaned after dinner.



And he holds a pencil properly, something that Smootch, in all her brainy and artsy gloriousness, did not learn to do until she was three.

I'd like to say that I will stop comparing the kids, but I know I won't. It just provides too much intellectual fodder, not to mention all sorts of entertainment. Everything I do with each one of them is new. I never really know how they're going to react, despite all my observation and note taking. I'm excited to see how their interests and passions will unfold as they grow, and, hopefully, be able to lay all sorts of helpful ideas and projects down in their paths so they can experience all that they want to. In the end, it really doesn't matter what I may think of them or if my guesses about who they are are correct. It only matters what they think of themselves and their place in the world.

Damn, I really hope I'm not screwing this up.

at the interent cafe, just a mile past the cows by Smith's ol' barn

Okay, so Shaw cable has no idea what they're doing. Apparently they can not use a calender ("we showed up three days early - that's good right?"), nor make simple logical connections ("Okay, we'll put you on the waiting list and give you a call if we have an avaliability to connect your telephone"). We are still without internet or phone until friday. That is, assuming they will show up.

Until then, I've got a coffee shop with wi-fi about a 5 minute walk away. Which is, frankly, a brillant thing, considering the rest of the place is rural and semi-rural, with the closest grocery store being a vegetable market with actual goats on the grass roof a 10 minutes drive away. Or, I could go into town, just 12 minutes away, but I have to make a turn right by the public beach to get to the store and I tend to get distracted by the ocean.

The ocean!

Alright, I'm still not over it. I've spent a lot of years in Alberta; it's going to take more than a couple of months to wear the shine off this place for me.

Vancouver Island has made good on its promise for a wet fall. November is usually rainy, so I hear, but this year has a been a good'er. Our firepit, just this past week, developed into a pond, then a river that flooded down through the yard, under the car and finally drained away in the trees 2 acres over.


A pond, with tree islands, makes a great play space, by the way, if you don't mind getting your boots filled every once in awhile.


The kids are good and sick. They've got some sort of hive creating virus. You'd think they have measles, but they don't. Weird, the stuff you pick up in Port Alberni. They're okay, though. They both had a day or two of fever (but not the same days, of course), but frankly they look awful, with pasty whitey white skin and red blotches. Their mood is good, still, and they definitely love exploring our new space. Again, as long as they don't mind getting a bit wet.


In our yard we can hear chickens, ducks, a turkey (everyone has birds) and goats (some people have goats. I hear they are not for everyone.) There's some llamas around too, but, then again, there is usually is. Oh, and a teeny tiny herd of cows (as in, there are a few cows, not that the cows are small), such a rare thing, that we actually use them as a landmark to remind me to take the next right to the shops.

It's not all mellow and laid back, though. There are some moments of excitement. A couple days ago, Smootch and I were walking to the store and I looked up into the antlers of a deer patiently waiting for us to walk by so he could cross the road. I did this (embarrassing) little shrieking jumping dance, scaring the deer and Smootch. I was surprised, okay? I know I used to accidently bump into the bellies of bull elk in Jasper walking half awake to work and yes, I just moved from a place where you are as likely to run into a bear as you are to your neighbor when walking around your block, but I'm still not that brave.

And, we rescued this guy from the flood (hope she doesn't eat all the trees).


So, that's it. Life is wet, happy, and novel. I've got a good amount of work done, not being distracted by the internet I suppose, and The Man and I have cooked up an ambitious new projects for the new year. More on that later...

For now, my big decision today is which way to go to explore next.


We are truly in love with where we live.

orange boy

Birdie boy has come to realize the world is just not built for someone his size. All the good stuff (chocolate) is way up high and even the most utilitarian things (chairs) are so difficult to use that alterations (booster seat) are necessary.


Which is why he loves when he finds something smaller than even size small.



Four days ago when he first laid eyes on these tiny mandarins he has eaten, oh, forty, fifty or so?



Which has been a little bit evil on the other side of the pipe.


What we suffer for love...

owly

Smootch's present fascination is owls. Which is why we were happy to discover these great printable masks today.

Night owl and owly girl. Birds a-feather.

juicy butternut squash

It's amazing the amount of water in vegetables. This is what you do when you are thirsty but aren't big enough to reach the tap.





Try some?

my wife The Man

Well, we've been here on the Island for, what?, two months and change now? Things are just starting to settle down a bit. When I was younger, childless and relatively man-less, two months in a new place would be about the time that the whole town would start to get a bit boring and I'd have a map out looking for somewhere new. Two months now, with family includings cats and sewing machines, I'm still trying to get a grip of where the light switch is in the hallway.

I'm still disorientated.

The kids are just calming down. If you think that children are resilent in the face of change and their spirited little minds naturally look forward to novelty and brand new adventures than you out of your mind. Children handle change like snowballs handle hell. They melt. They fry. They lose all shape and intergrity and turn into frothing puddles of unreasonableness.

At least that is what mine do.

Thank goodness there is someone else here with me, someone familar, weathering the child storms, and equally flummoxed by the strange, unintuitive position of the hall switch. A little normalacy is a good thing.



Oh, did I mention that in addition being the company to my misery, he also cooks most of the meals (all of the ones that don't involve peanut butter or jam), cleans up the abode, makes most of the household acquistions (except linens... I guess that is still my area), and takes more than his share of the childcare.

He's the guy telling the stories, playing cars on the carpet, pretending to be a malfunctioning robot and doing the crafts with the kids lately. He's the one with the imagination and stamina to keep up with the girl.



And the patience and mindfullness to be with the boy.



And he's doing fine, fine work.

Thanks handsome :)

wild sunday afternooon

We went to see Where the Wild Things Are today. Great show, really well done, and totally not okay for the kids. Here is why living not watching television sometimes bites us in the butt. We get most of our new movie informaton from print sources, which doesn't give you much of an idea about shows, considering that they considered periphery supports to video promotions. Okay, yes, we could of watched the trailer online, but we thought it was a bit of a no-brainer. Great children's book film adaptation = take children.

No, don't take children. Or, don't take my children. Birdie Boy slept through most of it, which is the way I like to watch shows with him anyway. He's much less distracting when he's unconscious. On the other hand, Smootch is great to watch movies with - if they are animated. She does not like live action. She'll say, "I don't like live action." And that's it. So, don't show her a live action if you want her to sit through a whole movie. We really thought Where the Wild Things was animated. Not so, as we were to learn.

But, there we were, in the theatre, with suddenly with a live action film on our hands, which was shaping up to be a thoughful, psychological journey into the mind of a lonely and emotionally distrubed boy, accompanied with a non-character singing/dancing soundtrack. Neat. For me. Because Smootch's response was, "When's the cartoon going to begin?"

She watched though. Quietly. Hmmmm. New problem: child is not bored with movie about lonely and distrubed boy because she's identifying.

One of the reasons why Sendak's book is considered a classic is because children (and parents) relate to it. It speaks to what is felt but difficult to articulate. Combine this with this particularly gripping movie adaptation, add in dramatic visuals, kickin' music, and lots of emotive facial expressions and you've got a little girl who got lost in the pervasive sadness and feelings of inadequacy.

Heart wrenching tears and clinging.

We were really not prepared for this.

Still, great film. I was pleased to not have to sit through another Cloudy with a chance of Meatballs, which was funny, true, but fart jokes rarely move me. Okay, I was crying when I left that movie too, I am Smootch's mother after all, but I'm sure I will be thinking about Wild Things for awhile. As will Smootch.

From now on, we watch Scooby Doo on rainy afternoons.

a couple of those thousanders

my move. again.

We've just put down a deposit on an acreage in Errington. We'll be in on the 15th of november. To keep things interesting, we are going to be using professional movers to shift our meager possessions a mere 30 kilos, after the 1200 km wth only a car and roof bubble. We actually have more furniture now than we ever had in our beautful blue.

Inn other news, both kids have post nasal drips and occasionly throw up tubs of flem. Pulp mill air is not helping. I'm not sure what to do about it since there are no doctors takng new patients here. Wait until it's bad enough to haul them into emergency? Feed them echinacea tea? I only know that tonight, if we are lucky, Birdie Boy will sleep okay in his car seat - the only way we have to keep his head elevated short of holding him upright all night (I've done that too. It's not pretty.) Wish me luck and the kidlets optimal breathing.

once again

Some photos of one last visit to Butterfly World before they shut down for the season.

(This is Birdie Boy's 'smile' when asked to do so for the camera.)

(And this is Smootch's 'smile'.)

(Thank goodness they both have brains to fall back upon.)

another ho hum day

Alright I just wrote a whole post talking about how much better life is here than back home. And then I realized I was talking about 'back home' and the homesickness kicked in. So I erased it and only now want to say that I miss you all.

And, still, life is good here.

Nah, nah.



Yesterday, a hike in the woods. Trees too big to wrap my arms around. Ferns and wildflowers. Waterfalls. Thousands of salmon fighting their way upstream to spawn. (Squint at the pic, there are a few to be seen.)

Watching overfed, lazy black bears fish in the river. I feel like I'm living in a nature documentary.

The only solution, as far as I can see, to the homesickness is for you to come visit. We'll be waiting for you :)