Category Archives: Weather, Seasons, & Celebrations

Weekly Update

I see it’s been a week since I updated.

This past Saturday was Tarasmas. For those who know what that is, yes, it’s a bit out of season, but it was scheduled thusly on purpose. This year’s theme for the interconnected radio plays was history; the evening began with the creation of the earth and went from there. There were some truly inspired casting choices, some great moments where people stepped up to fill in for missing cast members, and great hilarity and deep literary and historical appreciation were enjoyed by all. We stepped out into a Siberian winter storm, one of which had gone on for several hours while we were indoors and yet hadn’t been responded to by city snow crews, so the drive home (for us and pretty much everyone) was interesting, to say the least. When we got home at midnight we discovered the next-door neighbours shovelling our driveway and steps, so I came inside to make coffee and HRH helped them do their own side. At that point there was about fifteen centimetres on the ground, and another five to seven fell overnight. The boy slept over at his local grandparents’ house, so HRH and I got to sleep in. I even brought HRH coffee in bed as an apology for having to wake him up at quarter past nine in order to shovel again. The boy was delighted with all the snow; he had his grandma out at nine AM to build a fort in the backyard, and we picked up a snow saucer on the way home that afternoon with him, so he and HRH could build more of his snow slide in our own backyard, as well as a fort built under the play structure.

The fibro is making things pretty miserable, as I outlined here. I’ve been making ruthless choices about what I can and cannot do, and most of the time it’s working, except for the appended guilt and frustration. I just kind of keep gritting my teeth and trudging forward, losing ground. Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve had since that bad day two weeks ago. The boy was home on Monday thanks to a ped day (not-so-helpfully announced a single week before the day itself, the late notice of which completely bolluxed my planned work schedule for the week) so we drove out to the western tip of the island to see the doctor and get his vaccination booster shots (to which he said, “What? That doesn’t even hurt!” when the doctor injected him), then spent a couple of hours with Ceri and Ada. That was okay, although moderately tiring. Driving takes a lot out of me, and since my minimum commute to my bare-bones regular activities is forty-five minutes each way, it’s not inconsequential. But yesterday I had a cello lesson, so I gave myself an hour to brush off the car and have a leisurely drive. Good plan, and it would have worked if I hadn’t discovered half an inch of knobbly ice under the three inches of snow. It took me half an hour total to get the car clear, and I was so tired when I got in that I considered calling my teacher to cancel, except I’d done that two weeks ago when I had too much work to do and we’re missing a lesson next week because she’s out of town. So I got out there, exhausted, told her that I wasn’t in a good place, and she tried to give me something different and — she thought — intuitive to do, and it just stressed me out more. I don’t think I’ve adequately communicated to her what the fibro actually does to me in terms of focus, energy, and exhaustion-wise, because when I said I might not make it to orchestra the next night because I was so bad she just smiled and said, “I’ll see you there.” Or maybe she just knows me really well, and knows I’ll fight to get through it and sure, I’ll get there because I’ve made a commitment, but I’ll blow what energy I have for the next two days.

I’m fighting this weird zoning out thing while I do the 45-min drive out to my lesson, the boy’s lesson, and orchestra. Orchestra is the worst, because it’s at the end of the day. I don’t know whether it’s physical weariness, or fibro fog, or both. The drive takes so much out of me, and then I have to buck up and focus on the music for two and a half hours at orchestra (for example) and then I have to drive back home. I don’t know what to do about it. I keep telling myself it will get better as winter fades. I hate that it takes so much energy just to deal with the weather.

The book writing is going along. Because I’ve been so foggy and the typing of bird facts has been going so slowly, I haven’t been getting as much word count down as I’d like. I managed 3,000 words today though, which is more than respectable when I’ve been doing 1,000 a day for the past bit, so I’m happy with that. I have a 50% of book check-in date of February 15 next week, so I’m trying to get as close to 50% as possible. I’ll probably come in just under it, but I’ll have done all I can do to date. I need to choose six to ten actual bird entries and make them as complete as possible for the hand-in, too. That’s going to be time-consuming, and not yield much wordage.

The spinning wheel got its second coat of stain this weekend. I chose a warm gold to put over the cool dark walnut, and it’s perfect; it came out exactly that shade I wanted it to. I’d give you a picture, but I can’t seem to take one that looks any different from the first one, although they look very different in real life. I was going to wax it last night, but I opened the tin of furniture paste wax HRH had brought home from work and slammed it shut again immediately. It stank. There was no way I was going to breathe that while I waxed all the fiddly stuff, nor did I want any hint of that chemical smell clinging to the wheel. So I’m currently searching for a non-petroleum-based wax. My mother tells me she uses Brimax, so I’m looking for that. There’s a distributor in Pointe-Claire, but I don’t know if they sell direct to retail customers; I’ll have to call and ask later this week. Etsy lists a few handmade organic beeswax- and carnuba-based polishes with either lemon, orange, or lavender oil in them, so I may order one of those. I could always concoct one myself, too; there are enough recipes out there. I’d have to find the ingredients first, of course.

The boy and I encountered our first challenging cello practice this past Monday. He whined and complained so much that he didn’t even ask for a sticker when, five minutes in after the ten-minute struggle to get him set up, I said that maybe we should do it another day. He decided that maybe it would be better to practice as soon as he got home from school, then have his snack and play on the computer a bit, because then he wouldn’t have to be told repeatedly to get off the computer and set up for the practice session that actually enjoys when he isn’t wanting to be doing something else.

Right. Boy-fetching time.

Remembering To Breathe

Today, I have:

    – Finished my copyediting project and handed it in, right on time

    – Called the luthier to ascertain that the 1/4 size cello is finally ready for the boy to try (more on that later, it deserves its own post)

    – Unpacked the spinning wheel that arrived this morning (more on that later, too)

    – Finally gone to the post office to mail out two packages and a letter that have been sitting here since Monday

    – Bought various pharmacy things like vitamins, etc.

    – Gone to the library to pick up the books on hold for me (and also scored the new Alexander McCall Smith book in the Isabel Dalhousie series from the New Releases shelf)

    – Finally gone to the bank to deposit the three (!) freelance paycheques that I’d been carrying in my wallet for over a week

    – Paid bills; we are now totally up to date on utilities (in fact, I overpaid one, I think)

I’m catching up on what didn’t get done because I knocked myself out last weekend and Monday. Still taking it ve-e-e-e-ry carefully, and turning down new commitments and outings or evaluating already-scheduled ones as they come, though. I have the rest of the winter to get through, after all. I have been reminding myself to breathe all week, and it seems to have worked.

Hindsight

I did something not-very-bright yesterday. I made bad decisions, and I’m paying for them today.

The fibro is bad. The cold snap makes it worse. Struggling with heavy winter clothing is exhausting. Driving in the winter is draining, draining, draining. As an added bonus, I have a head cold, which on its own would be enough to put me on the chesterfield at this time of year with the fibro.

I don’t look sick. However, I am sick, with a chronic illness that is kicking my butt right now, like it does every winter; I just somehow forget how bad it gets.

I cancelled cello today. I am declaring a moratorium on all social events for the next two or three weeks except Tarasmas (unless I am literally unable to get out of bed that night). Regularly or already scheduled stuff will have to be evaluated as it comes. Work (sigh) and the basics like staying upright and remembering to eat have to come first.

In completely unrelated news, I have a new-to-me iPhone 3G. It is heavier than my first-gen Touch, and the on/off button is on the top right instead of the top left. These two things alone are throwing me off. There is a camera to play with (Cricket had the honour of being the first thing I photographed), and an interesting-sounding voice memo function that I can’t figure out yet. I have to go to the library to find a book on how to use an iPhone. Yes, I am that lame. I have the basics down — it’s essentially a more complex Touch, after all — but I’m going to need to know the why and how of things. At some point I will need to upgrade the iOS to the current version, and eventually initialise the actual phone part, too.

Aweary

Okay, I’ve had my fill of winter. It hasn’t been particularly bad this year. It’s been very pretty. I am, in fact, fond of how the light shines on the snow out here. I am fairly certain that I’ve made it further this winter than in previous winters before coming to this conclusion: I’m ready for lighter coats, shoes again, crocheted fingerless gloves, and watching for the tips of crocuses peeping through the leaf mold. I am ready for hyacinths in the supermarkets, for bouquets of tulips and daffodils. I am actively observing the sun hang around a little longer and be a little higher each day when the boy gets off the school bus, and cheering it. I’m tired of the very cold damp that saps my strength, and that leaves me cold in my very bones when I go out, and for much too long after I’m back inside. I am very, very weary of the bitter wind, and the wintry accessories like mittens and heavy boots and long, thick scarves and my long, down-filled, periwinkle coat.

There you have it.

Our Best 2010 Holiday Photo

Seriously.

That’s my dad and my son in the cockpit of a 727. There is so much awesome in this picture I can’t even begin to catalogue it all.

(What, my version of a holiday photo isn’t what you expected? Actually, we didn’t take many Christmas pictures; we rarely do. We’re usually busy.)

ETA: People who read this via LJ, it has come to my attention that some of you are leaving comments on the RSS feed at LiveJournal. I don’t get those; I just happened to trip across one today because my feed showed up at the top of my LJ friends page. Not only do I not get your comments, they are gone along with the syndicated post in two weeks. Please leave them on the original non-LJ blog post instead! All you have to do is click on the original post link at the top of the syndicated post to be swept through to Owls’ Court proper. A bonus enticement to get you to click through: You’ll actually see the pictures and images in my posts! Because no, those don’t always get syndicated along with the text of my posts for some reason.

Settling Into 2011

I am so very tempted to just say, “Yo, in 2010 WE BOUGHT A HOUSE, that trumps everything else, also it is both the best thing that happened but the three months leading up to it were the worst” but I owe it to myself to be more in-depth than that. At some point however; today is not that day.

The Tooth Fairy came the other night, so we know she has our new address after all. The boy was somewhat dejected when he got up. “The Tooth Fairy didn’t come,” he said. “How do you know?” HRH asked. “The little bag is still there,” the boy said. (We’d put the tooth (the tiny, tiny tooth) in one of my little velvet jewellery pouches.) “Did you look inside it?” HRH said. The boy blinked at him. “She doesn’t need the bag,” HRH added. So the boy scrambled to pull the pouch out from under the pillow, upended it, and said, “SHE GAVE ME A MONEY! I have a two dollars!” He’s back at school today after his first all-day playdate yesterday, and I have no doubt he will be brimming with news about his other friends when I meet him at the bus stop this afternoon.

There is now a new wall in my office, complete with what will be the closet eventually. The room is definitely smaller; three feet is more space than one thinks. We’ve had to move one tall bookcase downstairs into the hallway as a result, which means I have to rethink where all the books get shelved yet again. I keep reminding myself that I used to do this for fun. It is not as much fun when you have to do it, nor when the books in question are spread out over two floors of the house. And then I keep realizing that we’re going to have to do it yet again once the upstairs loft is finished and we move the offices into the attic, and that will be spread out over three floors.

So there is a wall; it has been framed, there is drywall up, the seams have been plastered, and today it gets sanded, primed, then painted. I am told there will be a louvered folding door on the new closet door, too. The boy was actually a help instead of a hindrance in the framing, HRH says. My parents had a set of toy construction tools put away in a closet somewhere, so they sent those home with us and the boy got to open them Tuesday morning. He wore the hard hat and the ear protectors all day, although the tool belt kept falling off. HRH gave him a pair of safety glasses, too, and taught him how to use the power drill. ( “Do they make safety shoes in kids’ sizes?” he said in aside to me. I’m mostly sure he was joking.) The boy is very excited about having to wear a mask when sanding happens, and he was a bit disappointed that it was happening today while he was at school. He has been promised full involvement when the drywall gets plastered and sanded in the attic, however. They both wrote their names on one of the 2x4s of the new wall, which I think is a charming tradition when you add to a house, and I’m glad they did it.

HRH found the original maple hardwood under the floating laminate floors. It’s very thin, though; it couldn’t have taken another sanding.

In the meantime, all my bookcases are RIGHT BEHIND ME when I am at my desk and it is quite claustrophobic. I’ve been doing a lot of my editing work downstairs in the family room on the antiquated and borrowed iBook. On one hand that’s frustrating, because I can’t check the Internet quickly for facts as it’s running Panther and the oldest version of Safari I’ve ever seen, which freezes if you look at it wrong and won’t run or load a lot of current web stuff. On the other hand, I can’t lose time in wander around the Internet in search of distraction. It’s too old to use a Twitter client, too, so I use the web-based version; it loads the old Twitter web page but not the new. It’s essentially a word processing machine now.

And a quick gift summary: My wonderful yarn swift, two cookbooks and a novel I’d asked for (all read before 2011 hit, sigh), a pair of excellent loungy pyjamas from both sets of parents, a beautiful pair of leather gloves, gift certificates to bookstores and iTunes and Tim Hortons, an owl mug and owl notepaper and an owl blank book, a lovely little whisk and mixing/dip bowl set, kitchen stuff like two new non-stick pans and Teflon utensils and a new cookie spatula, socks, and a pretty tiger’s eye lozenge pendant. No chocolate. (I KNOW. I think everyone remembered that I have problems with dark chocolate and decided to play safe, and also that HRH gives all his chocolate to me so they didn’t get him any, either. I have been sneaking Lindt reindeer and snowmen that theoretically belong to the boy.)

Serene

We had a beautiful Christmas day. It was just the kind of celebration I love: quiet, subdued, good company, good food, and a sane amount of thoughtfully chosen gifts of good quality. The boy’s present selection consisted mainly of Lego, Star Wars, and in one case Star Wars Lego (thank you, MLG!), plus a side of books and Hot Wheels. He was thrilled that Santa brought him the Jedi starfighter he had specifically asked for and extra excited about the droid slot into which he can actually put his R2-D2 action figure. I was so pleased with his behaviour, but then, he’s never known an insane Christmas morning. We’ve always allowed him to open his stocking when he wakes up, but then we all wait until family arrives at 10:00 to open our other presents. He thanks people for the gift before he’s opened it, and then again afterwards. My MIL pointed out that HRH and I can take credit for that, but watching him work slowly through taking gifts out of their packaging and playing with them one by one over the afternoon made me very happy regardless of where he learned it.

His fever is hovering around 101. He’s fine other than a bit of a runny nose and the occasional cough, so it’s just a virus. We’ll keep track of it. He finally got a nap yesterday, and has already agreed to another one today after lunch.

My best gift, hands down, was this one from HRH:

Fibre buffs will recognise this as a handmade adjustable yarn swift, which comes apart into four crosspieces, four movable pegs, three washers, and a central bolt. HRH made it himself, and I am thrilled with it. I just need to sew a case for it.

It’s a lovely, sunny day again today. We’re putting away the good china, and giving the good silver one last buffing before tucking it away in the silver chest. The only rough spot yesterday came when I went to get the tablecloth from where I distinctly remembered placing all of the table linen and only found one there, with a big stain in the middle of it. HRH did a bit of sleuthing and found all the good Irish linen on the top shelf of our bedroom closet. We’ve now stored it in the bottom drawer of the linen cupboard/armoire in the laundry room, and we both know where it is.

This afternoon the tree comes down. We’re doing a last bit of laundry and sorting, then some packing before our holiday peregrination.