Category Archives: Weather, Seasons, & Celebrations

Cue the Carols

To quote t!: “I’m… dreaming… of a white… Victoria Day Weekend…”

This post-Easter snowstorm made my commute home absolute misery, starting with the hour and ten minutes I stood outside waiting for a lift that only arrived (of course) after I resorted to public transit. While I was cold and wet and miserable, the worst thing was not knowing where HRH and Liam were and if they were okay. Both parties got home within five minutes of one another, and Liam was surprisingly not insane from being cooped up for two and a half hours in the car. He even ate some dinner before bed. HRH was mildly spare, however, and I was completely unhinged of course, imagining horrible things. This weekend, I am buying HRH a cellular phone.

Work proceeds apace. True to Meallanmouse‘s prediction today, I was asked how much longer I thought the project would take me should my contract be extended. As I’ve already been separately spoken to by the two heads who hired me about the near certainty of said extension, we shall see what happens tomorrow. Apparently it would be all right if I worked at home two days a week, which makes life much easier because HRH is working out on the West Island Mondays and Tuesdays, and needs to be on-site by the time Liam’s caregiver opens shop, as well as requiring the car to get there (otherwise it’s something like a two-hour commute). This way I can drop HRH off, then Liam, come home and work, then pick them up. If I had to go in to work on-site I’d lose an hour and a half of work time, assuming I took the car. Working at home on those two days is simply more efficient.

I learn at least one new word a day on this project. And it turns out I have been misusing “pursuant” all these years.

On today’s lunch adventure, Mellanmouse introduced me to the best fries I’ve had since the Frite Pit changed ownership over twenty years ago. Yesterday, it was an awesome Greek pita in the company of HRH and Fearsclave. Who knows what tomorrow will be?

I read A Long Shadow earlier this week, and am now over halfway through Princesses: The Six Daughters of George III (astute and obsessive readers may remember this as one of the topics that popped into my brain last fall and began scratching at the windows, whining for attention, pining to be a YA historical).

There is more; I keep a scratch pad with ideas that occur to me as the day goes along, but I’m really tired and still cold from the damp, no matter how many socks and sweaters I put on. To bed.

Twenty-Two Months Old!

Among the new words this month are shadow, flying, dancing, bump, egg, bacon, animals, bike, tools, tunnel, the end, fire, storm, lightning, tools, bike, knock-knock, crane, draw. HRH got him to call Thomas ‘Tom’ instead of ‘Ati’ the other day. It hasn’t stuck yet, though. ‘Noddles’ have now properly become ‘noodles’. Numbers are really sinking in as a concept, although sequence hasn’t. When we ask him to count the wheels on a toy, he touches each of them in turn saying, “Wheel, wheel, wheel, wheel.” If we begin counting with “One”, he’ll often say “Two”, but then the next number is usually nine. Yesterday after I had put him to bed I heard him counting: “Two, two, two, two, two…”.

He’s really passionate about drawing (which, like his love for books, comes as no surprise, I’m sure). He has a thick little copybook in which he draws with his markers, and I love that we’ll be able to keep this book and look back at it. It has a photo of Sesame Street characters on the front, so when he wants to draw he runs to the shelf and says, “Ernie, Ernie, Ernie.” These days he’s very excited about trees: he draws them on his own, and asks HRH and I to draw tree outlines for him to colour in. Naming the colours is coming along too. Cool colours tend to default to ‘green’, though, and warm colours default to ‘yellow’, although just to keep things fresh he throws ‘purple’ and ‘blue’ and ‘brown’ in at random times. We tried to bring the crayons out again, but with his need to gnaw on things to ease the pressure of his molars it was still a no-go. That’s fine; the markers are great, so long as he doesn’t bite the thick tips off, and he likes taking breaks every ten minutes or so to wash his hands clean of the ink.

He can voluntarily point out and correctly name the letter B. Why that letter and not another, we do not know.

Last week on a sunny day Liam discovered shadows. He now chases his own shadow, and moves his arms and head so that he can see his shadow copy the motion. This is hilarious to him, and entertainment for us as well, I must admit.

The fact that we have multiple friends called Marc/Mark makes him very suspicious.

His current book obsession is the collection of the first three Mog the Forgetful Cat stories I have. He is also very fond of Moonbeam on a Cat’s Ear by Marie-Louise Gay. My copy is signed so I try to be careful with it, but in the end, it’s a children’s book, with all that implies. After reading a story a couple of times in a row he’ll often take my index finger and touch it to various items on the page, waiting for me to identify them. I love how he devours books so completely. He also likes to read a lovely little book called I Love You Sun, I Love You Moon: We say, “I love you…” and he fills in whatever the child on the page is looking at. “Sun! Moon! Wolf! Water! Bird! Tree!” He’s working on saying “I love you” instead of just “love”, too, but at the moment it’s more exciting to say the name of whatever is in the picture.

This month also saw the longest sentence he’s said so far: “No Dada, please down.” Remarkably coherent and cogent, particularly since it was said through a flood of tears and great distress at being buckled back into the carseat.

The snow vanished rather quickly (thank goodness), and we have rediscovered how good Liam is on his feet. Last fall we weren’t comfortable with letting him run around in the driveway or sidewalk, but now suddenly he’s a little boy walking along while holding our hands, or climbing the front stairs on his own, or pushing the stroller with us. HRH likes to take him out into the backyard and let him run around like a mad thing. (Thank goodness for the backyard.)

He gallops through the house chanting his name over and over, throwing “Me!” into the mix every now and again. When he looks in the mirror after a bath he says, “Me! Liam!” and sounds very satisfied about it. And he’s already developing an amusing method of deflection. “Liam, are you dong [insert questionable activity in which he’s not supposed to engage here, such as climbing on the couch or touching the earth in the plants]?” we’ll say. “No,” he’ll say casually, and turn to look at a cat.

His current favourite toys are the MegaBloks. He loves to make towers and “nunnels” for his cars and trains to drive through. He’s remarkably good at stacking them, and at choosing colours and sizes. On top of a structure the other day he built a stack of single unit blocks about five high, and put a two-unit block on the top. He looked at HRH and said, “Flag.” “Uh, yes,” said HRH, and freaked out quietly as Liam turned to do something else.

Peanut butter has been introduced to Liam’s diet. It’s very okay. Not I-won’t-eat-anything-else brilliant, but acceptable.

When he was fractious last week we sat him down to watch the beginning of the first Harry Potter film to take his mind off his teeth, and while the owls were interesting and the Hogwarts Express was thrilling, they were nowhere near as exciting as Madam Hooch’s class. “Broom!” he said, very excited. “Yes,” we said, “brooms.” And he ran off to get his little broom, brought it back into the living room, and went right up to the television and held it up across the screen. “Broom! Up!” he said, very pleased. And then his eyes nearly fell out of his head when those broomsticks flew. “Broom! Fly! Sky!” he said, racing back to me on the chesterfield, turning to lean his back against me and breathlessly take it all in. We caught him trying to walk with his broom between his legs later. The only show he watches with regularity now is Zoboomafoo, which he loves. (The TV is now turned off after Zoboo and before Thomas because of the new morning schedule, which is just fine with me as I have seen enough of the island of Sodor to last me a good long time.)

We took him out to see the Easter farm at the mall last weekend. He was very squirmy, partially because of all the people, partially because of his teeth, partially because he wants to walk everywhere now. He saw donkeys, and all sorts of fancy chickens, rabbits, rambunctious piglets, ducklings, and goats. In the goat pen there were two relatively newborn kids curled up together in the shelter of a set of steps, and I pointed them out to Liam, telling him that they were babies and they were sleeping. “Goats! Night-night goats!” he said while waving, then insisted that we back away and leave the animals so that they could sleep in peace. I’m sure the goats appreciated the thought, as the act itself was lost in the sea of people and associated people-noises.

Originally, we were supposed to travel to Oakville for the holiday weekend, but with my full-time two-week contract and only one day off for the holiday, it wasn’t going to happen: a day of travel, one day there, and another day of travel home is a recipe for family-wide disaster. So that trip has been postponed to later in the month, post-contract, and we spent Easter Sunday with the locals instead. Liam was thoroughly gifted there with clothes, little books, a stuffed turtle and a small Lightning McQueen toy that he hasn’t let go of except in sleep. And when he ran into his bedroom there, he found what he delightedly called “a bike!“, a plastic three-wheeled ride-on toy with a trailer attached. Once he’d figured out how to drive it by pushing it along with his feet and steering, he gave his toys rides for the rest of the day.

I miss him while I’m working on this contract. And yet, it gives me the opportunity to see him in a completely different light now that I’m away from him all day, and come home in time to share dinner with him and the evening ritual of bath, pyjamas, and snuggling with books before bedtime. It reinforces how much of a little boy he is, how well he uses language to communicate what he’s done all day, what a cheerful nature he has, and how much I love his personality.

Scattershot

Thought I’d kicked the cold; then the really bad dry throat thing kicked in yesterday afternoon, triggering really bad coughing fits complete with tears streaming from the eyes. HRH had to import the humidifer from Liam’s room into our bedroom so that I could sleep last night. Also no fun were the sharp, incredibly painful foot cramps that attacked after I stepped onto the cold bathroom tiles on my way to bed. So, I’m still sick. Also, it is winter again, and I would like these two things to be over and done with, thank you.

Still enjoying work in an intellectual/practical challenge sort of way. More with the tearing of the hair and exasperated gestures and sighs, though, as I encounter words that I expect to be nouns and that are defined as verbs, such as ‘paint’. That’s all right; I fit right in with the gesticulation and random oaths uttered by programmers and coders around me.

Thanks to public transport this week, I have read Conspiracy by Grace, Lady Cavendish; Melusine by Sarah Monette; and The Rest Falls Away by Colleen Gleason in their entirety.

t! has been sharing excellent music with me lately. I’m currently enjoying some Lee Rocker and Brian Setzer Orchestra live recordings. Rockabilly and swing revival are seeing me through.

All right; time to pack the Thermos of tea and finish getting ready to go.

Concert Recap Etcetera

First and foremost, a heartfelt thank you goes out to the nine people who made it out to my concert last night. I’m sure it was wonderful. All reports I’ve had have been to that effect, so I’ll trust them. I don’t remember much of it myself, being under the influence of a double-dose of cold medication. I do remember being very pleased with my expression in general and with my intonation in a couple of tricky places, and every once in a while doing the “Are we here already?” sort of thing. I received a couple of very nice compliments, both from inside the section and from the audience, so I will trust those as well. My section leader is very encouraging and supportive of me, and I learn so much just from sitting next to her. I wish I had more time to properly devote to music, and to take lessons from her.

HRH only got to the concert just before intermission, as Liam was very irritable and fought going to bed more than he usually does. Liam has been rather cranky in general and a challenging handful over the past couple of days because of his cold. (I seem to have the worse cold, which is just fine; I’d rather it be me than the boy.) Arriving late meant that HRH missed the Boyce symphony (very pleasant and my intonation was much better in it than it has been over the past week — why it previously suffered I have no idea, because it’s dead easy to play. Perhaps because it was the first thing we played in this week’s rehearsals, and so it was like a warm-up for my fingers and brain?) as well as the Vivaldi double violin concerto plus most of the Water Music suite. Fortunately he caught the Haydn symphony, which was nice and tight and relatively gaffe-free, and had a great impact.

When we walked out of the church, the sky was very clear and the stars and moon were so incredibly bright. I was out four nights last week for various music rehearsals and meetings, and every night it’s been the same. Lovely.

I’ve been up to my ears in contract work the past couple of days, very mind-twisty as I work out what the client wants from his abstract notes and rewrite/expand upon them. It’s always an interesting challenge working in this client’s projects. I have to finish it up today during the boy’s nap and tonight after he goes to bed, as I begin the full-time on-site contract tomorrow.

We have finally opened the last box of the tissues left from the bulk pack we bought at Costco last fall. Liam and I will go out today to get more, along with a new cell phone for me and various other little things. It’s the Cancer Society’s daffodil weekend, so we’ll certainly buy some of those as well. Hurrah, daffodils! Our bulbs are up a good four or five inches along the south side of the house; it won’t be long before they’re real flowers themselves.

Music, Consultants, and Colds

The sun, the sun! I’ve been greedily soaking it up for the past couple of days.

We had our final regular rehearsal before the spring concert last night, actually in the church where we’ll be playing. (Due to scheduling issues our dress rehearsal will be elsewhere.) It took almost half the rehearsal to accustom ourselves to the very different sound of the room. It’s hard to hear the other sections when everyone is playing, and the sound is somewhat muffled and oddly amplified. Not in a bad way; there were times where we sounded like we were an ensemble twice as big as we truly are, for example. As usual, it took me a whole movement to sort through the different sound to actually hear what I was playing. It’s going to be a lovely concert. (Concert! This Saturday night at 7:30! Cedar Park United Church in Pointe-Claire! Here are all the details!)

Yesterday I had my first face-to-face interview in over ten years. (Most of my jobs have been as a result of networking and being familiar with the employers beforehand, and my freelance work is based in telecommuting.) It went well; so well, in fact, that I am now an official consultant working on-site at one of the local megacorps. (For those familiar with HRH, it is, ironically enough, one of the places at which he’s been trying to land a job for a couple of years now. Taste that irony!) An inside referral secured me the interview, and the two-week contract (with possibility of renewal) seems tailor-made for me and my abilities and qualifications. The heads on the project are people who care deeply about the work, and for whom I developed quick respect during our interview. So naturally, now that I have the contract I am wibbling deep inside and worrying that I will let them down, as well as making the individual who referred me look bad. It would be really, really nice to not have to field my own inner critic every time I get a job. It sounds like I would have to actively work at not making the situation better, however, and I am nowhere near as wibbly as I was last night. This morning, I am Professional Editor Girl again.

The project sounds engaging and moderately challenging for me as well as interesting on a I’m-doing-a-good-thing level. Nothing like promoting reading comprehension while sorting words and — ahem — editing a dictionary. Seriously — how cool is that? I get to edit a dictionary. It’s like a dream come true, if I’d ever presumed to have this particular daydream. (Granted, the work will also be frustrating due to its nature, but still! Editing a dictionary!)

One of the curiosities of this contract is that I will be travelling elsewhere to work, instead of working in my home office with cats and tea and other comforts. I haven’t done this in five years. Public transport is now my friend again. It’s an hour of travel, broken into three twenty-minute chunks so I can actually settle down and read without worrying that I’ll miss my stop. I’m told they will provide everything I need, but really, I will have to burn a few data CDs’ worth of music, bring tea and a mug, a dictionary (because I have learned never to assume that any office has a reliable dictionary, if a dictionary at all, and sure I could use an online dictionary but I always suspect them of being Not Quite Real), my good headphones, notebooks, and so forth.

Eep. I will have keycards and such. And, I’m told, an office in which to work, which probably means a small unused conference room with a computer brought in. My lower back already hurts at the thought of office chairs.

Also, another small freelance contract landed in my in-box last night. It will have to be done in the evenings, now that I am an official nine-to-fiver for the next two weeks.

Liam and I have both developed colds. I thought it was the general spring allergy thing, but it is not.

That is all.

Eighty Years of Genius

Happy birthday, Rostropovich!

(Irony: I spelled the name this way, then noticed that the CBC headline had a ‘t’ in the last name. I double-checked to make sure, and yes, I’ve spelled it correctly, and they got it wrong. The URL has the correct spelling embedded in it, as does the body of the article. Gah. Does no one proof these things?)

Also: Who is this Slava guy, anyway?

Monday Morning, With All It Implies

It’s gloomy and overcast today. See how I am not drawing a parallel between the weather and the fact that it is election day here in Quebec.

I voted. I have never been so disinterested in an election before.

I have no idea what I’m working on today. I may open random in-progress files until I find one that looks interesting.

On the bright side, despite the two massive snowstorms in March, the snow has almost completely vanished, with a curious lack of commonly associated runoff.