Nuts (and Dairy and Gluten. and Smoke)

 Matt drove Eve back to Hamilton yesterday preparatory to flying out of Toronto to Korea today. He's feeling much better and neither Eve or I have gotten Covid. I did go to the doctor to address the apparent lung inflammation still hanging on from when I did get Covid a year and a half ago. I think I may have gotten a cold at the beginning of September when school started and the cough is really wearing on me - it's merely annoying for a few days and then suddenly it is extremely exhausting and aggravating. Let's go, little orange inhaler. 

They're supposed to be rolling out a flu-shot/new Covid shot combo here for high-risk populations so I went online to see what I could book for my parents. I found it extremely confusing to figure out exactly who was eligible, and nowhere seemed to have the combo appointments available, so I booked them for flu shots at Walmart this morning and Covid shots a half hour away at the end of October. Then my mom emailed that they went for their flu shots and also got Covid shots. Which is a bit loony, but the rollout was bound to be a bit wonky, and I'm not mad at the result. 

So last week-end, before the newest super-fun Covid fuckery, on Thursday morning I drove my mom out to a neighbouring town's legion to do her over-eighty driver's license renewal, which means watching a video and doing a desultory vision and dementia test. My dad was going to follow us because he wasn't confident he could find the place easily but he was going to drive her home afterward so I wouldn't be late for work.

The drive went great, but the sign for the parking lot was ambiguous so I overshot, which resulted in driving up a very narrow drive that dropped off precipitously on one edge and had nowhere obvious to turn around. And naturally my dad followed me. I was torn between hysteria and dread, but he managed to turn around (just as another senior was driving in behind us doing the exact same thing, seriously Stittsville Legion, get better signage). We got to the correct parking lot and I walked her in the back entrance which felt like a murder hallway and reeked of stale smoke. I made sure they were good and went to work. After work I drove nearly to Hamilton so I would be ready to drive Eve home after her midterm Friday.

Not to bang on yet again about my exalted hotel status, but stay with me, it makes a good story. I checked in and read for a bit and then fell asleep around one a.m. At about two-thirty a.m. the fire alarm went off, and I was so confused and so unable to figure out where I was or what was happening I just laid there for a bit. Then I opened my door and people were leaving, so I grabbed my purse and a bottle of water and found the stairs. 

It was rainy and dark and people were bleary-eyed and bewildered, but everyone - even the kids - was well-behaved. A fire truck pulled up, so it seemed like it wasn't a false alarm, which meant this could suck hard, but there was no obvious fire. At some point I heard the receptionist say there was smoke on the first floor but no fire, so they were just trying to clear it. It was about half an hour all in, and it took me an annoyingly long time to get back to sleep, but could have been much worse. 

When I went to check out, I grabbed a diet pepsi for the drive and asked if I could sign it to the room and then check out. The receptionist asked how my stay was. I said the fire alarm wasn't fun, but it was well handled. She said the hotel is attached to apartments and someone had burned something on the stove so there was smoke. Then she asked if she could add some points to my account 'for my inconvenience'. I think I looked kind of horrified and said no, it wasn't anyone' fault, but she said "Thank-you for being so patient, but I will anyway - and just take the Diet Pepsi". I got the feeling people with status are typically more entitled, and it was one of those 'god, it's such a low bar' moments. 

So then I drove into Hamilton and ambled around the university bookstore and then ambled around the little bookstore down the street from Eve's house in an unhurried fashion, and it was lovely, and then I met my professor and we walked around the Westdale shops and then sat outside to have tea because the weather was beautiful. We talked about work and books and Eve right up until Eve texted that she was done her midterm, so I told Jean to just jump in the car and we'd pick up Eve and she could say hi, and then I'd drop Jean at her house on our way to grab Eve's stuff and hit the road.

We drove to campus (literally one minute down the road), but had gotten our signals crossed so Eve had started walking home, so we turned back and started driving up the road. We saw Eve just as her housemate was running across the road to join her. Eve and Jaden got in the car, which meant it became apparent that I had been collecting beverages on my double drive - Diet Pepsi, orange juice, water, green juice - and I felt like I was in one of those bizarre dreams: "and then I was in the car with my old Comp Lit professor and my daughter and another random girl, and everyone had to hold bottles of liquid because all the seats were full of drinks". And as we were driving her home Jean started talking about all the black walnuts her trees had been dropping - "two thousand, eight hundred and fifty" - and Jayden, who is never shy about voicing her thoughts, yelped "WHY DID YOU COUNT THEM?" and it was hilarious. We dropped Jean off and by the time we got back to Eve's house Jean had already texted a picture of the yard waste bags full of walnuts. She is such a funny, brilliant, eccentric little woman.

We went back to Eve's house and got her stuff and started driving. Just before we got on the highway we saw this. So many questions. University towns are such a chaotic trip.

Wrenches and Hitches

This past weekend was Thanksgiving in Canada, which is always the first weekend of Eve's fall break. I drove down after work last Thursday to be ready to drive home with her after her late-afternoon mid-term Friday. That all went great, but then Saturday morning Matt texted that he had Covid tested before getting on his flight home from Glasgow and he was positive, although just barely symptomatic. This threw all of our Thanksgiving plans into disarray, since my parents had been planning to come over for dinner Sunday but the new vaccine is going to be just a few weeks late to cover Thanksgiving here. 

We rallied fairly well, partly because this is just something you kind of have to expect will happen now, and because we had decided to order the Farm Boy Thanksgiving dinner since Eve and I and Matt would just be getting home and be tired from traveling. With my parents not coming and Matt coming home and heading straight to the basement, this meant I would not be spending all day cooking a meal I would only be eating with Eve (or alone, as it turned out, because she felt like she was getting sick, but it turned out to only be sniffles with no positive test ever). My parents turned 83 and 80 on September 20 and 23, and we're planning a weekend away with them and my sister and brother-in-law in a couple of weeks, so that will make up for it, as long as everybody can stay relatively healthy for it - it will be a worse blow if we have to cancel that one.

I divided the dinner up when we got it and delivered half to my mom and dad. They were fairly cheerful, all things considered. Fortunately they enjoy each other's company, and my mom has been keeping busy by baking a truckload of stuff for Eve to take back when she goes - she share with her housemates, who wrote my mom a letter of thanks addressed to "Dear Mrs. Evie's Grandma", which has redoubled her culinary enthusiasm. My dad also makes her a double batch of pancakes to freeze and have for breakfasts, and then pretends to be angry that she's taking them - this has kind of been their thing since she was little. 

Then it started raining on Saturday and didn't stop until today. We did the pumpkin patch thing with Eve and the friends that were home, but the epic, multi-pose, hilarious photo shoot we usually do wasn't happening - it was pouring, and windy, and freezing cold. 

But we still got to hang out with Davis and her boyfriend and her mom. And Eve still went and painted pumpkins with Davis and Jackson - one that matched her outfit perfectly. 

And Eve and I watched the finale of Only Murders in the Building together and tomorrow night we're going to watch Bottoms, which she saw in the theatre in Hamilton and loved and wants me to see ("it makes absolutely no sense, but it's hilarious.") And she got lots of Lucy cuddles. AND she just found out she got a sizeable role in the musical she auditioned for. And I bought a hepafilter and set it up outside the kitchen and powder room, and Matt has only come upstairs with an N95 on and no one else has gotten sick by day five of him being home, and he feels well enough that he can probably go do his invited talk in Korea next week.

All the Facebook memories from previous Thanksgivings made me a little like this:

But also like this:

 There were good times, and there will be again. We had a crowded house, and we will again. And honestly, having a hot turkey sandwich while binge-watching (I had to go to 'binge-watching' because I couldn't decide if 'binging' or 'bingeing' looked weirder) the last season of Sex Education in my pajamas was not the worst Thanksgiving I can imagine. 

First World Problems of Various Levels

 First of all, before I unintentionally start a class war, the whole "you get a room even if they have to bump someone" at Titanium status was a throwaway comment made by Matt that I suspect can't really be true. Also, I think this is less a 'rich people' thing than a 'people who spend way too much time on the road' thing. When I researched it a little, it does say that Titanium status means if you book your room 48 hours a head you are guaranteed a room. I think it's much more likely that a few rooms are kept aside and magically appear even if the hotel is 'full'. Also, there are 'terms and conditions', so who the hell knows. At any rate, we almost always book our hotel rooms way ahead, and we would never kick anyone out of their room. Even if we have to say "please do not give us a room if you have to turf someone else out of theirs". 

For the last few years there has been an increasingly bold series of car thefts (SUV thefts) in my little neighbourhood. People wake up to find their vehicles have been taken right out of their driveway while they slept. Our vehicle wasn't on the list of the most popular ones to steal, but last week it was someone we sort of knew who fell victim.

As if that's not alarming enough, there was a news article about several daylight robberies that have taken place here. Four men pull up in a big black truck, knock and if there's no response they force their way in. 

We don't put our vehicle in the garage until the snow falls and Matt clears out all the crap that accumulates in their over the spring and summer. We should, but I'm always in a hurry in the morning and the extra few minutes to open the garage door, back the car out and close the garage door factor in more heavily than they should (yes, I know this is shameful on my part, I am who I am, it's too late to go back).

I often don't answer knocks on the door when I'm home alone unless I know someone I know is coming over. I do sometimes, but sometimes I'm not dressed for human consumption and I can't face talking to someone and I know odds are it's someone wanting to seal my driveway or hound me about fake charitable donations (I am all for charitable donations, to organizations I research carefully ahead of time and usually donate to monthly). Now every time I hear a knock I'm going to think I should rush to the door and make sure they know someone is here. Although what happens when someone comes to the door and sees four guys and a big black truck? Do they pretend they're selling cookies? I'm using humour inappropriately because my husband is hardly ever home right now and I could convince myself to be terrified if I tried, so I'm trying not to. 

I'm not freaking way out over this (mostly). I'm not joining the chorus of "oh, what has become of our safe, wonderful little town". This shit is what it is, times are tougher than ever, and I'd rather hear about increased property crimes than assaults and rapes and murders. I realize this is a nice privileged position to hold, but that's kind of my point, honestly. There's a quote about having more to lose meaning that you have more that I keep thinking about. It's not that I think these criminals are Robin Hood-ing and robbing the rich to give to the poor. They're probably mean, petty little assholes (maybe they have an origin story about some rich jackass stealing their hotel room). So I don't know what my point is, except now when I get home from work I'm pleasantly surprised if my house is unmolested and when I get up in the morning I'm delighted if the vehicle is still in the driveway. 

I had to go to my CPAP supplier and then run a couple other errands today. On the way home there's an ice cream place, and I keep thinking I want to get ice cream and never getting it, so I thought dammit, I'm getting an ice cream cone and I'll drive home with it and I don't care that I hate food touching my face and hands, it will be completely fine. 

(Spoiler alert: It wasn't completely fine).

First of all, I hadn't been to this place for a long time and totally forgot that small isn't small. You have to order extra-small, or mini, or tiny, or don't-terrify-me-with-ice-cream or something ridiculous. Small is AT LEAST medium. Then I didn't really want it dipped, but she said "regular dip or (some other kind of dip)" and I just blanked and picked a dip. The dip is too thick and hard to bite through. 

I felt the first splatters hit my cleavage as I was walking back to the car and I knew I had chosen poorly. It's thirty degrees. I'm wearing a white dress. It's already melting, and every time I bite the coating the ice cream springs new leaks.

I wrapped a few napkins around the cone and thought, fuck it. My dress is washable. The car seats are leather (shit, does that make it more stealable? I told Matt they were too fancy for us). I can wash my face and hands when I get home.

It was a long (not really), melty, comical drive. I licked the cone, I licked the napkins, I licked my hand. I steered one-handed and still got the steering wheel sticky. I had to eat distressingly big chunks of chocolate defensively so they didn't fall in my lap. And I hit every single red light. But I'm old and beyond shame and have no regrets. If anyone saw me through their car window, I hope I gave them a good story. 

The Kids Are Alright Even if the Librarian is Dumb

 We had an amazing weekend visiting Angus in Ithaca. We didn't get there at all last year for various reasons, so even though we knew Matt's travel schedule was going to be insane, we picked one weekend he was here and booked the hotel in late August or we knew it wouldn't happen. Also it was our anniversary, which we realized we had forgotten yet again after my old professor texted me happy anniversary completely planned for.

Happy Anniversary to this pair of dumbasses

The joke is we stay in Marriotts whenever at all possible because Matt is currently a Platinum-level customer and they practically genuflect when we show up. The tv welcomes him by name and it's all spectacularly silly. We haven't paid for a hotel room in months, but we weren't able to use points this time because it's a hotel right on Ithaca commons and I guess everybody wants to be in Ithaca. We still got the gold-star treatment and extra points for staying. The next level is Titanium (I audibly snorted when Matt told me this), and apparently it means they literally cannot deny you a room, even if they have to bump someone else. Of all the levels of privilege I feel bad about, I don't think I could actually use this one. I do like the thought of being bulletproof-nothing-to-lose with David Guetta though.

Friday night Angus was coaching in Elmira so we got settled and then wandered out looking for a place to have dinner. We found a little place a few steps away that looked nice and had a drink and ordered appetizers while waiting for Angus. While he was driving home I told him to text when he was walking down and I could order him a cheeseburger or two lobster tails. He sometimes balks at us spending money on him, so I was kind of glad he texted back "lobster". 

After dinner we walked to his apartment, which is very close by the hotel and the Commons, but pretty much straight up, which everything is in Ithaca unless it's straight down. I said if I lived there my ass would be rock-hard and then we learned about #ithacalves (Ithaca is Cornell-adjacent).

Saturday morning Angus was coaching again so we wandered the Commons, which is fun - restaurants, fun shops, weird shops, the most gorgeous little paper store I could have spent all day and hundreds of dollars in, and a super-woke (in the best way) used bookstore. I bought an Ursula LeGuin book, which seemed appropriate.

When Angus got home we had lunch and then he showed us around campus, mainly the buildings his classes are in and the motion analysis lab where he'll be doing his thesis work. He said earlier in the year he'd forgotten how much better year two is than year one at a university, and he seems to have settled in nicely. He had terrible college-assigned roommates last year who were slobs, and this year he's living with a friend who's on the basketball team and in his same program, which is much better. One of their physiology profs even called them one night saying he had Covid and asking them to show up and do his GSTs the next morning (Graded Exercise/Stress Tests). 

After campus we had a beer in a sports bar, then grabbed some dinner and Angus headed home to work on an assignment and we had an early night - Matt's been traveling a lot and I've been working extra and we were exhausted. Sunday we had breakfast with Angus and headed home. Ithaca is almost an hour closer to home than Elmira was, and a much easier drive than the southern Ontario route to see Eve, so it was a nice drive and we were home early. It was amazing to see him thriving in his current situation, and next week I go pick up Eve for her fall break, which will also be fun.

Work is going well also. My new school is busy but fun. I have four kindergarten classes and one grade one, and then a grade six class. I talked about how the kinders can be adorably clueless in my last post, but I was the less-than-intelligent element with my grade one class. For the kinders I just ask them their name and scan their barcode on the class list, but all the grades have cards that I lay out so they can find their own card and give it to me with their books. On their first library visit, one week into the school year, one little girl unerringly picked her own card. The girl beside her seemed confused so I asked the first girl if she could help her friend find her card, not really being cognizant enough of the fact that these kids are only six and it's the beginning of the year in the new class. She nodded agreeably and said "oh, except I don't know her name. And I can't read." Fair enough then. 

Five For Friday: Early September By Numbers

 I have never done a Five for Friday. Do they have to match? I don't know why I'm asking, they're not going to.

1. Okay, let's do the first day of school pics I still coerce my kids into sending me. Angus sent his with the caption "Angus's last first day of school ever", and if that wasn't sufficiently heart-piercing, he.... *whimpers*... has a moustache in it.

Never mind, I said I wouldn't complain about it (too much). Here is Eve's. If she ever insists on sporting a moustache, I will endeavour not to be ungracious about it for her too.

2. Wednesday was my first day doing two schools in one day with classes in. I made an unintentionally vague reference to a job interview in a post in June, because it was just the same job interview I always have, just for yet another school - I'm at four now, I never know where the hell I'm going when I leave the house in the morning. The first couple of weeks there are no classes because we're waiting to get all the student information and print out class bar codes. In a way it's okay to have a few days of quiet getting things organized, but in a way it's... I don't know, weird? Or I am? I'm trying to make peace with the my strange mood cycle - January until June is tough, going into summer is hard but then summer is good, and then I'm expecting my fall upswing and it wasn't happening and wasn't happening, and I was kind of drumming my mental fingers impatiently because fall isn't that long and I have shit to get done. I feel like my mental health has become a washing machine repairman who says he'll show up between twelve and five and then leaves you sitting there until five-seventeen like an absolute unit, but then he shows up and you kind of feel like tongue-kissing him anyway. 

So Wednesday the classes came in and my new job means I do one school Wednesday morning and another Wednesday afternoon and I honestly kind of felt like I was crushing it, even though I had like five junior kindergarten classes - so cute. So dumb. So impossible to coax into saying their names with any degree of audibility. It was fun, and the day went fast, and I felt like my hair was good, which matters much more than it should.

3. Before Eve's friend Marianna flew back to Vancouver I took them and Jackson to the art gallery. More on this later, but this is my favourite picture from the day.

4. Indigo had a 'buy three get one free' sale in store last week. I wouldn't have made a special trip, even though the lure was strong, but Matt and I had made an appointment at the Telus store to finally update my ancient phone and then he had to go back to work and there I was right across the parking lot from Indigo so what was I going to do? As I was going in a pretty blonde girl was coming out carrying a stack of exactly four books and we beamed at each other delightedly.

The Ann Patchett because Bel Canto is in my Top Ten of All Time and she's an automatic read. Lute by Jennifer Thorne because it's one of my favourite recent reads and I was pleasantly surprised that they had a copy. The Sleeping Car Porter because I put it on our book club list this year and it's nice to have a hard copy to lend. The Chill because I saw it on an earlier store visit and tried to get it from the library - they didn't have it but I got another Scott Carson and it was excellent, so trying this one.

5. I've run out of anything vaguely related numerically. Last Tuesday bar night, everyone showed up. This is a relatively rare occurrence - someone isn't up to it, someone has somewhere else to be, someone is in frigging Italy or Bolivia (okay, just Matt). We almost can't all fit when we have a full complement. We got a celebratory picture.

Nineteen minutes until Saturday. Have a great weekend everyone. 

Liminal Spaces

 I feel like I'm in-between in a variety of ways right now. The kids are back at school, but I'm not a true empty-nester, any more than I was a true single parent when Matt was traveling for weeks at a time. Eve will be home in five weeks and they'll both be here for extended breaks at Christmas. I'm not cleaning out their rooms and they both still have dirty clothes in my laundry. This strikes me as a kind of gentle transition period for when they actually have their own places. Right now I can enjoy cooking for just two (or one, more often) for a few weeks and look forward to them coming home.

I'm not working full-time, but I'm working more than I have for quite a few years. This is fine from every point of view except physical. I have a variety of chronic pain/auto-immune issues of which each on their own would be manageable, but all together I'm done in by the end of a work week, sometimes by the end of a work day. I'm doing a few things to try to address most of them, and feeling less panicky than I was by forcing myself to take one day at a time. Sometimes I worry about feeling worse before I actually do, and forget that 1) I only have to do this if I want to and 2) I can do hard things, especially short term. There's a distinct possibility of a strike this school year, in which case I will have the opposite, arguably worse, problem, so I'm going to dig in and try to enjoy the good aspects while I can. 

It's September, but it's hotter this week than it's been for more than August. It was an absolutely terrible time for everyone to have to go back to school - the air conditioning, if there is any, is not remotely equal to combating this kind of heat and humidity. If there is no air conditioning? Inhumane. The libraries have been surprisingly cool, when all winter I'm dying - I guess maybe whatever is happening with the air system happens extra in the library. We've been letting teachers and whole classes come in to escape portables or upstairs classrooms. One poor teacher came in from the portable looking like she'd been swimming. 

We had an inexpressibly (fear not, I will still take a crack at expressing it) lovely Labour Day weekend with Matt's family. Eve had a fantastic last week with friends when her BFF came back from Greece a week before they both headed back to school. It was a wonderful summer and I'm generally ready to try to establish some fall routines (working, cooking, more yoga, writing, attacking house issues, never seeing my husband). I felt much less ready for summer, even though I was looking forward to it, so my traditional fall mood and energy upswing seems to have engaged. Maybe if I force myself to make a doctor's appointment I can work on trying to extend it for more than four months. 

My Facebook memory from this day in 2017 said I didn't find a job but did write this blog post. Now I have four little jobs (the same job at four schools, but I like calling them baby jobs) and am still blogging. Facebook memories have also reminded me that I tend to spin out and question all my life choices and feel terrible about myself at this time of year, which I NEVER REMEMBER. Who'd have thought that after all, something as simple as Facebook Memories would save us all? Well, just me, really. 

Books at Camp (like Pigs in Space, but Different) Addendum

Books at Camp Addendum (Like Pigs in Space, But Different)

Bibliomama / August 26, 2023 at 03:05PM

//

keep unread

//

hide

First, about my last post, OH MY GOD you guys, I'm chaotic but not THAT chaotic. I explained it badly, though. My morning pills were spilled inside the med bag, so I'd reach to the bottom and scoop up some loose pills, see what kind of handful I got and then AMEND IT to the proper medication. Not that it would have been a huge deal anyway, we're talking allergy pill, acid blocker, vitamin D and magnesium, but I am not that fun and free-wheeling with medication. 

On my Reading at Camp post, Tudor asked if everybody had print books. I think the only person who had an ereader (he also had prints books) was Dave.

Oh, Tudor is my fabulous author/narcoleptic horse-rider friend. Check out her books here. 

I'm trying to figure out if I find it funny that Tudor only reads ebooks - I think I've heard people say they will only read paper books, because of various reasons, more or less Luddite-like. I had a touch of that feeling myself when ereaders were first a thing. I've gone way to the other side of that, mostly because of my failing sight and the fact that I can read on my ipad without a light on at night, which is kinder to my husband. I don't have an ereader, though, I just have the Kindle app and the Libby app (for library ebooks) on my ipad. I think this is because I wasn't sure if an ereader would be for me, so I just tried the apps, and then that worked well enough that I didn't feel the need for a dedicated device. I can only read on the ipad somewhere I can prop it up, though, with my vicious carpal tunnel - I had never seen the thing Hks recommended, but I sort of jury-rig the same kind of thing with pillows or throw cushions. I guess a normal ereader isn't that hard to read in the sun? Would you worry about it getting sandy? 

Every now and then I feel inexplicably out of sorts reading on the ipad, and I can't decide what to read next, and then I have to read a paper book or two. I have no idea what that's all about. 

I will admit that every now and then I have trouble getting my app to connect to the library, or it acts up, and I can't access the books, which makes me feel panicky and angry and like this is all a terrible idea and this would NEVER HAPPEN with paper books etc. etc. Then it settles down and I forget about it. Plus it's not like I don't always have five or six hundred paper books around if that happens, but you know, when you want to read a certain book you REALLY WANT to read that certain book. 

I have been a long-time fan of Miriam Toews, a Canadian writer from Manitoba. One of Eve's university friends lent her Fight Night, and from then she was also a fan. Some of the editions have these fun stripy spines, and she's had amazing luck finding them in Little Free Libraries and in the used section at her adorable neighbourhood bookstore. She also stole some of mine, but in return she gave me a copy of Fight Night last Christmas. I love Toews because she writes about people who are often in dire circumstances, but she also finds a deep, loving, sometimes screwball humour in everything. Eve brought home Summer of My Amazing Luck and Women Talking for me to read over the summer, which of course I didn't because I always have library ebooks that have an expiration date. I realized last week that I was probably out of time to read them before she took them back to Hamilton (they need to live together on her shelf, those are the rules and I respect them). Then I remembered that I am me, so have powered through the one and am about to slam back the other. 

This also became The Summer of Ray Bradbury for Eve. When I was down picking her up we did our customary bookstore pilgrimage and Fahrenheit 451 was on the used book shelf outside, so I bought it for her. Then my friend Nat (HI NAT) was getting rid of some books and gave me a copy of The Illustrated Man. Just to keep the streak going, I then gave Eve Something Wicked This Way Comes. She was familiar with Bradbury from a short story she studied in high school, and I had then given her a collected short stories volume. 

Sharing books with my daughter is one of those things that I dreamed about but never really believed would be a thing - it seemed too magical and unreal. What a gift.