Category Archives: Weather, Seasons, & Celebrations

Kissmas: Gearing Up, Counting Down

Saturday: Santa.

“Did he cry?” Sandman7 asked when I saw him that night. “Yes,” I said, “when it was time to leave Santa’s lap.” (I suspect Sparky may not be quite clear on the telling Santa what you want in order for him to deliver it on Christmas Eve thing. It’s possible that he expected Santa to hand him a new train right there and then. The ball he got was appreciated, but it wasn’t a train.) Then he fell asleep in the car on the way home, and woke up when we tried to carry him in without waking him. And he didn’t nap at all, other than those five minutes.

Saturday evening I went out to dinner with not one but two fabulously talented, witty, and suave men. Sandman7, Talyesin and I went out for a special dinner at a local steakhouse and had a lovely, lovely meal with delicious wine. I have not had such a wonderful meal or night out in, er, longer than I can count.

Sunday: Tree.

Wait, no; first it was two hours of shovelling. Then we went out to get the tree. In the blizzard, yes, because if we didn’t do it Sunday morning, it wouldn’t get done. It was frigid. The boy had great fun trotting around the lot saying, “Ooh, look, Kissmas trees! Look at all the Kissmas trees! Look at them all!”, tears streaming from his eyes from the wind, his little button nose bright red. We put the tree inside the car to take it home, as tying it on top of the car would have made driving even more dangerous in the gusts of wind and lack of visibility due to blowing snow than it already was, and he held one of the branches all the way back. I remember that he did the same thing last year. (The tree-buying experience couldn’t be more different, however; last year we were looking at a green Christmas. This year, well, there’s a metre of snow in the backyard already, from fence to shining fence.)

We put the tree in the front entryway, and rearranged the living room. Then HRH shovelled for another two hours.

Then the damned stand broke when we tried to put the tree up, postponing the actual assembly of tree and decorating till some undetermined point later in the week. The tree was put on the back porch to collect piles of snow overnight.

Then HRH went out and shovelled for another two hours.

This morning the blizzard had passed and the sun rose and the world was white and sparkling and a sea of snowdrifts. HRH went out and shovelled for yet another two hours (I know, it’s repetitious, but so is the work), and all the neighbours banded together and helped one another uncover cars lost in snow drifts and to clear the piles of snow left by the ploughs. It’s so fabulous to see people actually helping one another instead of taking snow clearing for granted.

After dropping the boy off at his caregiver’s this morning, we bought a new snow shovel and tree stand to replace the broken ones (yes, bad things to have happen to one around blizzard time — and when HRH fought his way through the storm to arrive at the doors of Canadian Tire just as someone was coming up to close them yesterday, he was told he’d had eight hours to get what he needed and they weren’t letting him in. Was I not just expressing astonishment at the lack of civility among the retail workers this season?). The tree is now inside, in the new stand and the boughs are falling into place properly. I suppose we’ll decorate it tonight.

HRH is off doing a snow fence for someone today, and I’m finishing up the YA edits and printing it out, come what may.

ETA: Environment Canada says that we got 30 cm of snow yesterday, and that the record for December 16 is 41.2 cm. We’ve had 78 cm so far this month, and the record is 118.1 centimetres in 1972, so we’re two-thirds of the way there.

Cranky

Not one — not one — of the clerks I dealt with today while shopping wished me some form of holiday joy. A couple of them didn’t even say hello or thank you or goodbye, or tell me the total I owed aloud.

Now, I’ve done my trenchwork in retail; I know how bone-wearying this time of year is. But this was a Friday morning, and it’s only mid-December. And I don’t care how tired you are, you talk to your customers. Pretend to smile, damn it. My trenchwork allows me to sympathize, but it also allows me to disapprove of how you aren’t holding up your end of the clerk/client relationship.

I wished every single one of them a good holiday season, as sincerely as I could. One of them looked up at me in astonishment, a tremulous smile appearing on her face. “Thank you,” she said, “thank you so much. And you, too.” And she’s the one that I have the most sympathy for, because the client ahead of me was giving her a hard time and she was having trouble recovering. I was polite to everyone, I made eye contact, I smiled, I was as warm as possible, because this is a thankless time of year. But I really, really hate not being met halfway by sales staff, particularly when I’m not the one being paid to make the experience a pleasant one.

Then I came home and wanted to get my ergonomic chair up from the basement, which I couldn’t do because there’s an immoveable trunk in front of it downstairs and it’s wedged in behind it, hooked under something. And none of the lights work down there for some reason.

And, of course, no cheque in the mailbox.

Also, despite the snow last night, I did not see a single snow removal vehicle anywhere on the slippery roads today.

So yay! I am cranky again!

I did remember to buy antihistamines, and multivitamins, and intensive skin lotion, and Q-tips. I also got my ink cartridge refilled. And I bought vitamin C as well, because HRH brings all sorts of fun little colds home from school.

Now, to finish vetting the Track Changes in the last third of the YA manuscript, and print the bloody thing out.

MemeMemeMeme!

I am amused by the silliness, and also by the curious appropriateness (propriety?) of the things a-whatevering.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, owldaughter sent to me…

Twelve plays studying
Eleven soundtracks writing
Ten candles a-curling
Nine books acting
Eight vikings a-reading
Seven brontes a-singing
Six myths a-learning
Five bla-a-a-ank notebooks
Four used bookstores
Three fairy tales
Two robertson davies
…and a literature in an alternative spirituality.
Get your own Twelve Days:

Four used bookstores! Singing Brontes! Writing soundtracks! Why am I giving these things away?

Except that last, of course. I do that with pleasure.

New Day

Today: bright sun, then snow, sun, snow. Just above the freezing mark, too. Beautiful.

Yesterday was A Very Bad Day, all of it happening after 3 PM. The burn on my left hand from a splash of hot oil caused by a can opener being thrown into a pan of frying ground beef seems to have been relatively neutralized by the lavender oil I put on it, but the right foot damaged by an overturned kitchen chair is causing me problems today. It was a two-year-old day. Enough said.

Today I had intended to print out a two hundred page document, but I have just realized that I have to go through it and accept all the damned edits I did in Track Changes first. So it has to be put off yet again, and it’s already been rescheduled over and over for the last two weeks for a variety of reasons. Grr. At least today I’ll get to switch back and forth between the hearthcraft book and this other document as I get stuck on one and need a break. And it will be nice to take a final look at the other document as well, as I’ve been second-guessing my edits on it. Rereading it will help refresh my memory and help me get in the right headspace for the associated cover letter, too.

Hearthcraft Book Update

Total word count, hearthcraft book: 12,398
New words today: 2,129

Potpourri, potpourri, potpourri. Who knew I’d have so much to say about it. Well, all right, I made point-form observations about household gods and spinning, too.

I’m going to go simmer a cinnamon stick, a few cloves, and some orange peel now. It ought to smell a lot more like Christmas in here.

ETA: Bah! No cinnamon sticks! I used powdered cardamom instead because I thought it would smell good and be a decent alternative to the powdered cinnamon.

Weekend Roundup

A respectable weekend, marred only by the bad decision to go out grocery shopping Sunday morning. I really hate people who don’t think beyond themselves while in a public place. I hate people who hover behind me in shop aisles glaring at my back when I pause to take something off a shelf even more. And I hate that I get tense and get snappy with HRH because of it, as he’s the one who pushes the cart when we all go out together. We couldn’t get out fast enough.

Aside from this, we had a great Saturday afternoon out at the ADZO household, where we reconnected with lots of people we don’t see often enough, ate so much delicious food that our hosts just kept putting out on the counter in front of us, enjoyed a very nice red wine and a surprisingly good honey brown beer, and gawked at the number of kids running around. (They almost equal our numbers. If two or three more come along, that’s it; our generation is history.) Liam discovered the joys of the ball pit, an inflatable wading pool filled with balls in which he played with great enthusiasm, working himself up to the point where he’d take a running start from the kitchen and launch himself into it head-first, chortling all the way.

The Christmas lights went up on the front of the house Saturday morning, thank goodness, so there’s a least a touch of Yule around the house. Liam helped me wrap the banister of the indoor staircase with garland too, although it seems more sparse than it was last year for some reason. On the list of things to pick up this week once there have been paycheques are a couple of wreaths (one for my office door and one for the front porch railing) and a good indoor garland to loop above the front window, as well as some candles and good ribbon. We can’t get our tree till the weekend, but when we do I’ll be looking for one that’s a bit bigger than we need (not hard, as HRH always enthusiastically reaches for one that’s taller than the room can really handle) so we can cut lots of boughs off the bottom to use as further decorations. We often use the stump that we trim off the tree as a symbolic Yule log, too.

Sunday afternoon, the postal truck delivered the first box of the season, from my parents (which surprised me completely — Sunday delivery already?). It contained a tin of sugar cookies theoretically addressed to Liam, two books for me to read, a box of Lady Grey tea, and the most adorable apron for Liam to wear while we bake.

For once, the weekend didn’t feel rushed. And this is HRH’s last full week at the college; next week is private reno work, and the first couple of weeks of January are free. A real vacation! Hurrah!

And last but quite certainly not least, last Thursday Liam and I went out to get him a pair of new boots, as the ones he had fit him but didn’t come high enough to keep snow out of them. (His test to see if they fit and worked? Jumping in them like a kangaroo, then stomping around like an elephant.) While we were out I did my usual quick look around for the DS game I’d worked on in the spring that was released last month, and I finally found one on a shelf. I brought it home, popped it into the DS, and had fun actually playing through the first couple of games the team had been working the bugs out of while I’d been doing contract work for them. And then I called up the credits for the thrill of seeing certain names I knew were there. (HRH and I are the sort of people who sit through credits at films, too; it’s important for us to show appreciation and respect for all the people who have put time and effort into something. Even now I get a thrill of seeing friends’ names scroll by at the end of Saturday morning cartoons, knowing so many who have done and still do storyboards, layouts, character and location designs.) And then, to my utter astonishment, my own name scrolled by. They’ve credited me as part of the linguistics team, right after the main linguist who helped develop the project. I felt like someone had just taken all the oxygen out of the room. This was unexpected, as I was a contractor who wasn’t on permanent staff; as a freelancer brought in to tweak [ED: Oh, all right, HRH, how’s ‘manage’?] the word database I hadn’t any expectation of actually being credited as an official team member in any respect. This was a completely different kind of thrill from opening a box full of author’s copies of a new book I’ve written, or seeing my books on a bookstore shelf. I don’t know if I can put my finger on why, other than the shock of the unexpected. It was fun, too.

I just spent a quarter-hour doing a phone survey on federal issues such as security, the Afghanistan mission, and the RCMP. If there had been an option to answer “I run after a two and a half year old all week so any news goes in one ear and out the other”, I would have selected it three-quarters of the time.

Today is okay so far. I worked out some numbers: if I write 1,666 words each of the three days a week I work, I will have 60K done in three months. That brings me to mid-March. And I’ve already got 10K down, so we can readjust that to about 1,300 every work day. Not that it’s going to change my regular goal of 1,600 anyway; that number is so deeply ingrained into my work mind that it’s the default quota no matter what. So it looks like two and a half months of 1,600-word work days, giving me a half-month to tweak things. (And cut words out, which is always the problem by that point; I go over the total target because there’s so much to fit into such a small space.)

And now, back to work.