Working Holiday 2009

I've been taking a bit of a break lately, partly because I was on vacation, and partly because I am still recovering from said vacation. With our crew of a 4yo, a 1yo, two dogs and a shortage of dog-sitters, the typical vacation choice for us is a week-long stay at a cottage rental. This was our first attempt since Chichi came along, and was also our first attempt on our own, as our usual cottage companions were unable to join us. Overall, I would have to say that this trip was a LOT of work. We knew that it would be, but we also know that it's important to do things together as a family, which we seldom do. Equally important is that our children have memories of such events so that they can reflect back on their happy family life at some point in the future and at least acknowledge that their parents made some sort of effort, be it half assed or otherwise.

As with the majority of my stay-at-home mom days, the week consisted of about 10% priceless moments, and 90% getmethefuckouttahere moments. Every morning I looked out at the chairs on the dock, wishing that while wearing pajamas and a hoodie, I could sit and enjoy a steaming cup of coffee while looking out over the lake. Instead, every morning I had to deal with the constant whining from Pumpkin, along with the intense, yet necessary helicopter mothering of Chichi, who only wanted to play with fireplace pokers and matches. It was also difficult to impress upon Pumpkin just how important it was to be outdoors instead of sulking on the couch in the cottage, demanding videos. I always gave her a video if she was cranky, in hopes that she would pass out on the couch, but that never happened. Chichi wasn't much of a napping superstar either. She was usually awake, tired, and wanting to disassemble whatever she could get her hands on. I would be lying if I told you that I didn't at least once a day say to myself in exasperation, 'this would be so much better without kids.' Yes, I love them, and they enhance my life, but dealing with a double tantrum during a rain storm at the cottage does not come close to comparing with the fun that hubby and I used to have in the wilderness during bad weather, even if we were confined to a leaky tent.

The neighbour was a single mom, had a 4yo girl and a dog, but was smart enough to bring a nanny. Her trip seemed a lot more enjoyable. A couple of times I saw her on the porch, feet up, reading a book. Oh the things that I have learned to envy! An extra pair of hands, or even just an extra pair of eyes would have made a huge difference. I'm still grateful for the family time that we had though.

The week was not without it's priceless moments. Pumpkin made great use of the lake, and enjoyed swimming with the neighbour's daughter. Chichi seemed taken by the scenery, and enjoyed her first go at eating sand, and loved splashing along the shore line. We got Pumpkin out in the canoe a few times, where the conversation wasn't always what I had hoped for, but was still a positive experience. I'm glad that they like the outdoors because if we can swing it one day, we plan to have a cottage of our very own. A cottage that doesn't have stray pieces of Risk and Sorry strewn about the place that Chichi seems to have a radar for. A place where we don't have to cringe every time a dog scratches a wall, or eats a table cloth. Yeah, we seldom get our security deposit back.

...and we can spin our heads right around too!

Many, many years ago, I attended a party where I met a guy named Mike. It wasn't a hook-up or anything, but we had a conversation, although nothing particularly noteworthy. The next week, Mike inquired about me to our mutual friend. He couldn't remember my name, but using his most eerie voice, and wiggling his fingers in a spooky manner, he referred to me as "That girl with the EXORCIST EYES!"

I have to admit, my eyes are probably my most memorable feature, or so they were before my raccoon-esque dark circles decided to envelope most of my face. My eyes are blue, and my complexion is kind of olive, (dark circles notwithstanding), so people tend to notice them (the eyes, not the dark circles). I had always thought it was a positive thing, but that exorcist comment certainly put a new spin on it.

Chichi doesn't have a dark complexion like mine, but her heavy mop of black hair contrasts strongly with her light grey/blue eyes. In addition, her eyes are so large that she often appears to be a somewhat stunned. Based on the attention that this gets her, I naturally assumed this to be a good thing, without any parental bias, of course.

Yesterday, Hubby was out pushing Chichi in the stroller, when a small boy came running down the path towards them. When the boy got close enough, he stopped in his tracks, pointed at Chichi, and with a look of concern exclaimed, "That baby's eyes are SCAAAAARY!"

Glad to know that I've perpetuated my 'creepy' gene.

Cycling Vancouver to Calgary Revisited

Lately I've noticed that I've been getting a lot of hits from people searching "cycling from Vancouver to Calgary". I posted my essay on my own trip here and here, so I won't repeat myself, but I figured I'd let you know that I used this company to tour with. I don't see the same trip being offered right now on the web site but their other tours look pretty cool. Also, you should know that cycling such a distance really REALLY hurts. That's all. Good luck.

Head in the Sand

Many of you are starting to bore me. It's not your content per se, but your lack of content. Most of the mainstay blogs that I read aren't publishing a heck of a lot these days. Even worse, very few are commenting on my half-assed efforts to stay afloat in the blogasphere. It's that immediate validation of my work that keeps me motivated to write more, I must confess. This has led me to stray, and explore new avenues. The problem is, I'm an escapist. As an escapist, I avoid bad news to the best of my ability. I scan the headlines for stories that won't send my brain screaming into an abyss of depression, and weed out the ones that will. That's probably irresponsible on some level, but it's how I cope. It's how I keep my spirits high. It's how I manage to be somewhat of a fun parent to my kids. Blindly searching out new blogs does not give me a chance to avoid the terrible stories, as I don't know that I'm embarking on one until I'm already knee-deep in it. The people who post these stories are in their right to do so. I actually believe that it is important to share with others in the same boat who may benefit from knowing that there are people who understand. I believe it is therapeutic for the author's themselves to spill their guts and face their own traumas and experiences. I don't know if I'm suppressing issues deep from within myself, or if I'm just cold hearted, but within ten minutes, I managed to read about rape, domestic violence, and a dead child, and now am either ready to start drinking or seek out a life coach. Is it wrong that I run instead of reflect? I want to be an empathetic person, and I believe that I am on some levels, but I often wonder, for the most part, if I'm just being an asshole.

I Give Up

Both my kids were in bed before 7pm tonight. I knew ahead of time that Pumpkin would be tired. Camp does a great job at using up every last scrap of her energy, which is good, except for me, who has a few daylight hours of Pumpkin left between picking her up and tucking her in. These are typically playful hours, peppered with moments of psychological warfare. Chichi is either reacting to Monday's vaccination, or she has a genuine cold obtained by chewing on a toy in the doctor's office. Why must medical health practicioners keep bacteria laden crap on the floor in their waiting rooms? Anyhow, despite my children's ill tempers, I decided that I would aim for us to all eat together tonight. In all honesty, we don't usually all sit together nor do we all eat the same thing. When I can get us all fed early enough, and when dinner is suitable for eaters of all ages, I give the family dinner a try. Whatever book I read on the subject said that everyone should be served the same thing, provided that there is at least one sure thing on the table that the picky eaters will eat. Chichi whined all through dinner, occasionally popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. Pumpkin whined, threw her rice on the floor, cried that the chicken was 'scary', and shrieked when I took her food away. This is why both kids ended up in bed before 7. Not all family dinner attempts go this badly, but none can ever be described as enjoyable. This brings me to my point. To the news media, who threaten us with inevitable drug abuse by our kids if we don't have a family meal; to nutritionists, who scare us into desperately trying to get our kids to consume the correct number of food groups; to any other parent that I've ever spoken with who was all smug about how THEIR family always eats together, and how THEIR kids enjoy lentils and broccoli, YOU CAN ALL KISS MY ASS!!!!!! It's chicken nuggets and fries from here on in! The grown-up can eat whatever they find in the freezer once the kids are knocked out for the night. The end.

Back at Ya, Mom

Being at home with two kids does not allow me to have many breaks in the day. I get one nap out of Chichi while Pumpkin is at camp, but there are always things to do. This is why I sometimes sit way longer than necessary when I use the washroom. It isn't as glamorous as going out for coffee, but at least I'm sitting, and can lock myself behind the door for an extra few minutes and collect myself. If the door is not locked, however, it is guaranteed that Pumpkin will interrupt my time-out. The other day while I was taking such a break, sitting on the can, elbows resting on my knees, head resting in my hands, Pumpkin walked in. My posture indicated to her that I was having trouble 'going'. Mimicking the same type of encouragement that I am known to offer Pumpkin when I see her struggling on the toilet, she assumed an Incredible Hulk-like stance, and offered up a hearty, "GRRRRRRRRRRR!", in hopes of helping me along. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the crapper.

Keeping the theme alive, and because I'm REEEEEEL mature:

Busy and Crazy!

A lot has been going on at Casa Mac and Cheese lately.  I neglected to post about Pumpkin's pre-school graduation which happened about a week and a half ago.  It was a little scary, seeing as the days of cutesy wootsy have come to an end, and her next school will be big, concrete, and full of big kids.  You'd have to see the set up of her preschool to get a sense of how safe and contained it is.  It is an 1800's school house on a beautiful lot, surrounded by a white picket fence.  It was pretty easy to leave her there each morning, as opposed to this upcoming September when I will only be escorting her as far as the school bus.  Somehow she is going to get off the bus at the other end, hang up her own clothes, serve herself her own snacks and lunch, and learn something.  Could happen!

We also had Pumpkin's 4th birthday party on Saturday, and I have to say, an off-site party is the way to go if you can swing it.  I was thinking of having her party at home, and it wasn't the fear of 20 kids ransacking my backyard that made me hesitate.  It was the fact that at this age, the parents would likely be staying, which takes the pre clean and food prep to a whole new level.  I'm actually phobic of entertaining, with concerns of dog hair and being judged on my cooking.  As if I'd be cooking.  Whatever.  The gym class type of party was a hit, and Pumpkin seemed to love it.  I say "seemed", because she'd never actually tell me.  I have to go by the smiles and lack of tantrums.  

In other Pumpkin news, today was her first day of camp.  I've sent her to half day camp before, and I've sent her to half day school before, but both were at the quaint little place described above, so this had an entirely different feel.  It was extremely weird for me to walk my ever lovin' first born over to a 16 year old and hand her over for the entire day.  Pumpkin didn't fuss as she shyly took the councilors hand, and walked over to her group while her over sized knapsack shuffled along behind her.  (Sniff.)  I'm anxious to pick her up in an hour from now.  

In other surreal news, this morning while I was getting Chichi dressed for the day, I heard The Huz screaming, "TAZ!  TAZ! TAZ!"  Although he freaks out about the dogs on a regular basis, this scream had a lot more urgency than is typical.  I decided to abandon my post and check out whatever drama was unfolding in the yard.  What I just missed seeing was a black squirrel with its teeth embedded in Taz's snout, as Taz tried to shake it off.  Not relishing the idea of 10 rabies shots in the abdomen, Hubby succeeded in removing the squirrel without actually touching it.  He pulled Taz's head in one direction, then quickly snapped it in the other, sending the squirrel flying as if it had been catapulted, or squirrelapulted as the case was.  It has been about a month since I dropped money at the vet's anyways, so I was due to make a deposit.

So what's new with you?

Birthday Party Advice

On Saturday, I began my day at Chuck E. Cheese's, and ended it at a performance of Riverdance. I am a woman of diverse interests, multiple complexities, and many layers. Plus we had free tickets. Back to the Chuck E. Cheese's part, the last time I was there was when I was the kid, not the parent. I remember that I was in grade 5, and that my friends were trying to chat up some boys who were following us around. We did the 11 year old's equivalent of buying them drinks, which was to give them some of our prize tickets. My friends had me be the runner, so I was the one to deliver the tickets, and find out who was interested in whom. So suave were we. It was very typical for me to have been the runner, and not one of the love interests. I'd like to say that I was just selective at such a young age, and that I preferred the boys from the roller rink, but truthfully, I just couldn't attract a lot of little league action with whatever my look was in those days. Don't feel bad for me though. I peaked in my 20's instead. Anyhow, the birthday party that brought us there this past Saturday was a different experience. It was a lot of work actually. I don't recommend this place for a party if your child requires a guardian to follow her around, explain to deaf ears why certain games are not appropriate for her, and why she can't cash her 47 tickets in for a Tinkerbell toy that requires 8000 prize tickets to purchase. "YOU WILL TAKE YOUR RUBBER SPIDER AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!!!" I prefer a party where parents get to talk amongst themselves while funneling flasks of vodka into their provided juice boxes. Just throw the kids into a bouncy castle. They'll be fine.

Best Google Search to Find This Blog, Ever!

will banging of head on the wardrobe cause tumors

Timberrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!

I'm sitting in my dining room, watching a team of tree guys cut down five of the trees in my yard. When we moved in, we had 10 tall pines, each about 50 years old. They weren't looking particularly healthy, but they added a great deal of character to the yard. A very dry summer a couple of years back did some of them in though, and I guess character lost out to safety as we've been a little shaken up by projectile branches smashing into our house during some of the crazy wind storms we've had this spring. So down they come. Despite my sadness over my slightly more barren looking yard, I can't help but smile at the memory of that scene from Fargo every time I pass by the front window and see the wood chipper in my driveway. At least there's that.

The trees in my yard were one of those things that gave me something to brag about. "Sure, my '80's, suburban house has no personality and needs work, but look at those trees!" Now I'm gonna need something else to feel superior to those urbanites who outbid us on the midtown houses that we desperately tried to buy back in the day. I guess with all that freshly opened up space, I can accommodate a massive flock of pink flamingos:

Nope. No feeling of superiority yet. I'll keep trying.

I'm Pretty Sure that we Won't be Home Schooling Over Here.

You know those moments in life when your child demonstrates what a great job you've been doing, and your heart swells with pride as others look on in awe?  I've heard about these moments, although I most certainly did not have one of them today at our junior kindergarten interview.  It was just a 15 minute assessment where the teacher talked to Pumpkin, asked her a few questions, and tried to get a sense of how often she will be banging her head on the chalk board next school year.  Just yesterday, I had a laugh with hubby about how talking to Pumpkin is sometimes like talking to someone with a concussion.  It wasn't as funny today as Pumpkin ignored the questions that she didn't like, talked about things she wasn't asked about, and showed no sign of knowing any of the letters in her name, how old she is, or any ability to draw.  Not only that, but the questions that she did answer appropriately made me look bad.  When asked what she likes to eat, she replied, "Chocolate bread!"  (Nutella).  When asked if she likes to watch TV, she totally perked up and recited all the Disney movies that she likes to watch, and wouldn't leave the topic alone.  When It's not like I haven't tried to teach her how to write her name or her numbers, but she isn't at all receptive to my efforts when I try.  She typically retreats to her own little world, where she demonstrates great imagination, but frustrates the hell out of me.  I generally believe that she knows more than she lets on, but plays dumb for whatever reason.  The alternative is that she may have learning issues, or possibly ADD inherited from my husband, which we will deal with if we have to, but I'm now feeling anxious about it.    She is very social and outgoing, which has carried her through pre-school well enough, but what happens now?  I am hoping that in class, when I'm not around, she will show her true potential.  I just don't feel confident that all is well.  (deep breath.)

Sent To: Memory Lane

Today I decided to start deleting the kajillion or so e-mails sitting in my sent mail.  To ensure that I wasn't going to lose any valuable information, my plan was to quickly scan each one and delete as I went along.  I found that I was unable to complete the task because of what happened next.  I opened up a fair number of e-mails and discovered how well those quick notes documented the past two years of my life.  They are like a diary in a way that this blog is not.  All these quick, blunt, and funny little blurbs, filled with the details of my daily life can be constructed to reveal all that is really me.  Notes that are written for specific people read a lot differently than a blog post that everyone stumbles onto when they Google the term, banana clip.  (It happens more often than you think!)  Personal e-mail covers the minutia that I omit in this space for concern that such details are too uninteresting, or simply not bloggable.  They tell about the journey, not just the end of the story.  Also, when I read them, I hear my own voice, which is something that I have not yet achieved here.  I try to be me when I blog, but I personally think I sound like a low calorie version of myself.  All that aside, after reading 20 or so, I realized that a lot has happened in two years.  It started with a lot of back and forth dialogue concerning the planning of hubby's birthday party that year.  It was a good party, but it will always be remembered as the party where there was something very wrong with my MIL, although we weren't sure what.  Next came the notes that I sent to various individuals, informing them that we had just taken my MIL to the hospital, and discovered that she had a brain tumor.  I don't plan to take you through notes about the hope and sorrow that followed, but my point is that reading through all this really took me through the emotional roller coaster, detailing things I might have otherwise forgotten or misremembered.  

Not all of my backlog of e-mail was of such a serious nature.  A lot of it was just banter, but reading through it gave me a feel for my relationships with various individuals.  There were also many notes pertaining to weddings.  There were notes pertaining to births.  There were notes about my own pregnancy and labour.  There were notes that were just funny to re-read, although they were of little consequence.  I'm might now be hooked on my sent mail.  Instead of deleting it, I think I'll be backing it up!

Small Talk

I'm not a big fan. Of small talk, that is. I am happy to sit in silence, as long as I'm comfortable with the people I'm with. That is not to say that I don't yammer on about senseless things from time to time (e.g. my entire blog), but overall, I'd rather not discuss the weather or comment on how terrible or wonderful the latest news story is. I used to work with a couple of people, P and L, and one time I heard P ask L what she brought for lunch that day. Her strained reply was, "Does it really matter?" I totally get that. I find it tiring to answer an irrelevant question to which the reply is meaningless even to the person who asked it. I do my best to avoid such conversations, but sometimes weird ones sneak up on me. One time I was walking my dog and saw my dentist jogging towards me. This sounds a little odd but we used to live in the same area, and he does run everyday. Anyhow, I just gave a wave, not wanting to converse for the sake of an out of context run-in, and figuring that he would motor on by, but he decided to slow down enough such that he could tell me that he felt terrible. "Oh...thats...not...good....", was the reply that I stammered as he continued on out of earshot. What else could I say? I didn't even ask!!! Even if I had asked, his duty was to tell me that he felt fine, right? This was an outright small talk violation! I had another weird one today too.

Today I was at the vet's for a check up for one of my dogs. I always seem to be at the vet's for one reason or another, so I do feel a certain amount of familiarity with the people who work there, but typically we talk shop, or in my case, dogs. This falls in the category of acceptable small talk for me. During the check-up, Dr. B was making a fuss over my dog who was being calm, and cute, and all things doggie. Then she asked me if the dog was good with the kids, which gave her the segue that she needed to talk about her own kids, despite my not having asked. She has an 18 year old son who dropped out of school, and who isn't working. She said that he has mental issues, but added that he is seeing a psychiatrist and is trying to work through this. She then went on to give me examples of the things that he did as a child that foreshadowed his current behaviour and OMG ISN'T THIS A LOT OF INFORMATION TO BE GIVING AN ALMOST STRANGER??? "Uhhhh, good luck with that" was all I could come up with as a reply. Then I went to the front desk to pick up a prescription for some doggie meds and explained to the clerk that having it filled at a drug store works out to be more than 60% cheaper than buying the drugs directly from the vet (don't tell me that I never give you any useful information), and this spawned another insanely long conversation about her cat, and its problems, and how expensive its treatment was, and how she had just started working at suchandsuch a place which allowed her to finance the treatment for her cat so that she didn't have to put it down, and so yes, it is important to try to keep vet bills down. Did I bring that on myself? Stop talking already!

Isn't it ironic that the the longest post I've written in ages is about my distaste for small talk?

Yup, It Really is About Breakfast Cereal

Some time ago there was an article posted somewhere about mommy blogging being essentially about breakfast cereal. We all know that this is not true, except in the case of this post. I have a cereal issue. My thing has always been to buy a few boxes of Cookie Crisp cereal whenever I'm in the U.S. We can't get it here. I'm not sure that I even like it anymore, but this tradition has been ongoing for over 20 years, and I enjoy the odd looks I get from my fellow travellers when I load up on the stuff. Last week when I was killing time while Pumpkin was at her ballet class, I wandered into a neighbouring Kosher supermarket. As I meandered up and down the aisles, I found myself staring at a wall of "American" cereals that we don't usually have access to. Cocoa Puffs, Fruity Pebbles, Kix, and yes, Cookie Crisp. For some reason, the folks who keep Kosher in the area love their sugar fix in the morning. I always figured that our government had determined certain cereals to qualify as NOT FOOD, and therefore banned them from our shelves. Maybe religious restrictions trump government policy? Anyhow, now I'm kinda bummed out about it. I can't make trips to the U.S. for a cereal that I can get locally, so I need to get a fix of something new. It doesn't have to be kosher. It doesn't even have to be cereal. Just don't recommend cheese in a can - we don't seem to have it here and I stand behind whomever made that decision.

Girl's Week-End!

Since none of you took me up on my offer for a week-end of unpatriotic shopping and female bonding, I feel compelled to enlighten you on all that you missed. I think that the picture book version says it best:

We went to

Where we bought a lot of

and engaged in a room crawl, where we may have had a drink...

...or 10

The red nose is a dead giveaway. That and my sad attempt at keeping my eyes open wide after countless squinty-eyed versions of this pic.

Ok, there are no other pictures that I am permitted or willing to post. I may or may not have engaged in a little table dancing with another woman, which isn't as sexy as it sounds, but thankfully the camera operator was too messed up to create a permanent memory. Whew!

This trip was more fun than I've had in ages. Not that spending time with my family isn't fun, but this was a necessary, different kind of fun that I have been depriving myself of since the kiddies came along. Don't get me wrong - I missed them dearly. Especially the baby, given that I had forgotten a piece of my breast pump and was in a wee bit of pain by 10 am the first morning. I ended up buying a new one, (they're much cheaper in the U.S.) so if you are are someone, or know someone who might want a free, slightly used pump, let me know. I'm done with it. Just boil it - good as new. ish.

The first day of shopping rocked. I haven't bought myself anything since before I was preggo with Chichi, so my goal was to go nuts, which I kind of did. Not a whole wardrobe or anything, but enough to keep myself from being naked this summer. You can thank me now. The second day was a little rough for me due to the previous evening, so I couldn't feel the shopping love. Just as well. We came just short of a full cavity search at customs on the way home, so I was better off not having more to declare. Apparently, 42 women walking through the customs office, each carrying three Coach purses was a bit of a tip off. Live and learn.

Wanted:

Two unpatriotic women from the Toronto area who would like to join me and 42 other women on a bus trip to Buffalo. We leave this Friday at 5 pm and will not return until late Sunday evening. The cost is $140 for hotel and transportation, and we are bunking 4 to a room. There are two spots left, so if you are not a psychopathic killer who will rip our hearts out and eat them just for pleasure, let me know if you are interested.

Great Moments in Parenting...

It is not ideal when your three year old walks into the room with her nightie hiked up to her chest, explaining that you shouldn't worry about all the poo on the floor as she has been wiping it up and will continue to do so while you are nursing the baby.

Cleaning the Coop

The good news is that Pumpkin's school is cleaner than most of your homes. The bad news is that I know this from being part of the cleaning crew. Pumpkin's school is a co-op, and for many co-oppers, this means that you have to pull off a duty day every once in a while. I wish that was what I had to do. Yesterday was the third of three major clean-ups for the school, and everyone has to participate in one of them. I also had to endure a few individual cleaning days over the course of the year, as everyone has had to, but none quite as thorough as the major clean. They made us clean EVERYTHING. I'm not just talking about table tops and toys. We pulled everything out of the school onto the lawn, cleaned and disinfected all of it, while others cleaned and disinfected every interior surface imaginable. We even had to clean the mail-slot-style cubbies where we pick up our children's art work every day. I have many spots in my house where I stuff mail, flyers, etc., and I can honestly say that I've never thought to wash and disinfect any one of them. I'm just proud of myself if I ever get around to sorting all that crap. As for my job at the school, I was thrown into the basement to sort out the toys, tossing out the useless ones, and cleaning up the keepers. Because it is a co-op, there have been a lot of crappy toy donations over the years, which left me with a lot of junk to sort through. The two dads who worked along with me left me to decide what got tossed. My husband would have avoided that task too. Is it a guy thing? Hubby hates making small decisions and freezes when faced with annoying tasks like this. Even last night when I was feeling ill with cold and flu symptoms, I asked him to go out and bring home whatever for dinner, and he still couldn't do it without calling home to get me to be more specific. What I wanted was to be exempt from having to make a decision. He didn't get that. At least I didn't have to cook.

As for the drag of the co-op factor, whatamIgonnado? It's a great school, and I will probably be sending Pumpkin there again next year on the days when she isn't in JK. Maybe I should take a cue from some of the other mothers and send in a substitute me on the cleaning days. Anyone looking to make a buck?

Free Write

If I had followed the path of my "old" life, Pumpkin would be hunting for chocolate eggs right now instead of watching Disney movies. I'm not talking about a change in religions - I've always been Jewish, although it wasn't exactly prevalent in my earlier years. I grew up in a more or less Godless fashion, and I kinda liked it. My mom converted when she married my dad, but she kept the commercial Christian holidays alive, so we feasted on crappy, hollow, chocolate Easter treats. I've got the Jewish facade thing going on now seeing as I married someone whose family sorta does Judaism properly, thus no Easter Bunny. I did promise Pumpkin that I'd buy her Hungry Hungry Hippos for Passover, although I'm running out of time on that one. Maybe I'll build up some hype for that treat for the last of the eight day holiday. We're not actually keeping Passover, so it'll seem outta the blue for her, but whatever. I guess I'm feeling Easter egg hunt envy for everyone who updated facebook today with details of hidden eggs and excited children. We did have our two Seder meals, but the buck stops there for us. I'm not bunging myself up with matzoh for eight days, not at least until a time when my daughters start Hebrew school and need me to walk the walk with them. Hypocrite much? I am what I am. Actually, there was a time when I talked about converting to Christianity. I was 13 and going out with a guy from my friend's church's youth group. I mentioned to my mom, quite flippantly, that I might convert for him. I don't remember my mom's reaction, but she called my dad to let him know, and I recall him being upset about this and having a word with me. Dudes, when a 13 year old makes a statement like this, clearly without knowing what's involved, let it go! It will pass! Will I be able to recognize the circumstances that do not require intervention? Like the time when I was 17 and my boyfriend at the time explained to my mom that when he gets married, he planned to continue to live with his parents, along with the wife and kids. My mom questioned me about my willingness to do this, suggesting that I bail. As a 17 year old who had yet to even have sex, I really didn't care what this guy's plans were. Even I recognized at the time that this would not be my problem. It turned out not to be any one's problem. He has since come out of the closet and probably does not live with his parents. Incidentally, I was still a 17 year old virgin by the end of that relationship. Go figure. Oh, and then there was this trailer trashy guy who worked in a cemetery doing, uhhmmm, "landscaping". It was just one of those things, yannow? My mom freaked out on me a lot during those days. Anyhow, although I probably wouldn't like to see either of my daughters going out with a grave digger of questionable origin, I would like to hope I will be able to keep my anxiety under wraps, knowing that she'll snap out of it at the end of cottage season, or at least until the guy reveals his grand master plan of getting rich selling Amway. Nothing wrong with selling Amway. It just might be a good idea to have a plan B. My mom is probably smirking now, saying, "Just you wait....".

My Passover Culinary Expertise

Hellooooo!  Sorry I've been neglecting this space, but I've really enjoyed my break.  I think I might still be on a break, but I'm having a down-moment and I don't want to clean anymore today, and since dinner is already defrosting nicely, I figured I'd pop in.  So where were we?  Oh yeah, veterinarians and cooking.  Just for an update on Lucky, she is ok.  The growth on her foot was benign, and we pitched the lamp-shade thingy around her neck after one day when we realized that she wasn't going to rip off her bandages.  Our walls thank us for that one.  Recovery has been slow, but now with the right drugs, she should be back to her usual, looney self in no time.  Sometimes I think I deserve a degree of sorts in pharmacology with all the drugs I administer on a daily basis.  Every morning it's anti-seizure and liver-related meds to Taz; antibiotics, anti inflammatory, eye-drops, and the occasional estrogen pill for Lucky.  Every evening it's pretty much the same.  Don't I at least deserve a white coat and platform that makes me taller than everyone by a couple of inches?

I haven't put together any meals worth posting about since the Firecracker Chicken, but I have made progress in one culinary area.  If you recall my Passover post from last year, I set out to host a seder with my sister-in-law, but she ended up ordering up all the food, arranging for hired help, and taking care of getting the dining room at my FIL's house set up.  Ultimately, I did nothing.  Well this year, things are different.  This year, I took care of ordering the food!  Impressed?  Oh wait, it doesn't end there...  I'm actually going to prepare one of the dishes with my bare hands!  One whole dish!  I feel as though I've been catapulted into a whole different realm of Seder hosting, despite having 90% of the food catered.  Who knows?  Maybe next year I'll even make a second dish!  I'm outta control now!  Anyhow, if I don't make it back here to post in the next day or two, Happy Passover and/or Easter.  Lookin' forward to that Charlton Heston movie !