The Devil is in the Details

It is all fun and adventure to live in another country.

Until that country is bilingual, and packages all of its products in two languages, and you are at Costco on a Saturday and you are in a rush.  You just want to know if the blankty-blank juice is indeed fruit punch or if the ziploc bags are gallon size so you don't buy the wrong thing and then get home and have to go out again for what will be the millionth time to the millionth place because youdon'thavetimeforthat. Because you've already had no hot water this week (fixed) and a broken dishwasher (also fixed) and a traveling husband (back) and you just want to run your blankty errands.

Then it isn't always so fun. I mean, it still IS, just not in that moment.  I think people sometimes suppose Canada is like America-lite, but it is not, friends, it is not.

We had to go to the American Consulate in Toronto recently to get E's passport renewed. Kids' passports are only good for 5 years.  You remember that one of the scariest places in the world to be, beside a military base in a combat zone, is an embassy/consulate. They had bomb alarm evacuation guidelines.  Also, excellent posters from the 80's that said "Feel the Spirit!" I would have taken a picture but I was allowed to bring nothing in, not even my key fob because it had a keyless remote.  I was allowed to pay in American dollars.

Ultimately, I do like living in another place. It is the little things like this that somehow exhaust me, though.*

*Like, what is Vim? And why would you clean with it? Is there a partner cleaner Vigor?
**Homework: please look up on google maps the town of Regina.

Pinterest, until JG stole it!

I was going to write about Pinterest, then JG STOLE MY IDEA ON HER BLOG. (But she is my friend and she introduced me to pinterest and now I neglect my family and stay up too late so it is all really OK.)

Really, pinterest is all about sharing, so you can go read her blog here, and save me the time of writing it.

I will be posting pics of E's pinterest-inspired birthday party next week here. *It's awesome!* And has lots of glitter and sparkly lights. Every 6 year old needs a party with glitter and sparkly lights.

I have been thinking about how men could use pinterest.  Perhaps to visually cultivate a personal style, or to note places they would like to travel. For the design-minded man, it wouldn't be an issue. But for the average guy, it may be more of a challenge.  I'm not sure.  Maybe for great sports photos? Food, recipes, cocktails? There are lots of great things visually on the internet to capture and review.

Take a look, create your own board. Mine are very much in infancy because I have been working on E's birthday, but I know some of you have them already. Apparently the app is not that great yet, but hopefully that is fixed soon.

Dad, please block this website on mom's computer. I accept no liability for this post or the effects.

Winter, Again, In Canada

There are so many things I am overdue to tell you about! Above, a picture of my friend and neighbor Paul's backyard ice skating rink. It is cold today - 10 degrees F - so finally cold enough to freeze the rink. I think we'll check it out tomorrow or the next day.  Because in Canada, they build rinks in their backyards.

Canadians also give delightful gifts. I urge you to take a few minutes and watch the video based on the book The Sweater.  Watch it until the end, otherwise you will not love the story as much as it should be loved. It is about a young boy who lives in rural Quebec, and needs a new hockey sweater. His mother writes to the department store to send him a new one. Is it the one all the other boys wear? What happens?  

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"Have you ever done this before, E?" I asked, knowing she hadn't.

"Why would I have cut down a Christmas tree? I'm Jewish!" she responded emphatically.

J suggested in the spirit of Canadiana, and in our first holiday season away from our families, we should cut down a tree at a tree farm about an hour north of the city.  They had a tractor ride out to get our trees, a sleigh ride if there was snow, and a bunch of other holiday activities. We did none of them. The place was packed. We arrived at about 9 a.m. on a Sunday, after keeping our kids up until 11 p.m. the night before, and were able to get on a tractor pretty easily. By the time we were leaving, there was a police person directing traffic outside and the lot was full.  We had our tree, though, that J/Paul Bunyan/Clark Griswold chopped down all by himself. 

Since S was so tired, blankie and paci also helped us pick out the tree. We got to carry S and the tree back to the pick up site. That was really fun! 

Mom has all of our stockings in a box in Arizona, with the guns, of course, so we had to make some. We didn't have any ornaments, so E and S went crazy. We had many ornaments with Buzz Lightyear and Spiderman stickers. 'Tis the season for superheroes.

S was also a reindeer in his school concert. He sang traditional Christmas songs with lyrics like, "Heigh-ho welcome baby Jesus," (it is pretty catchy) and the Santa cheer, "5-6-7-8, fill our stockings, don't be late, GOOOOO Santa!" This is actually fairly hilarious coming from a bunch of three year olds. If you have not been to a preschool concert lately, I urge you to find one and attend. It will restore your faith in humanity.  

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We also held our traditional latke Hanukkah party for our neighbors on Boxing Day, the 7th night of Hanukkah.  It was super fun and we (by we, I mean H) peeled 15 lbs of potatoes and I fried them up. We also made Renee's brisket and had lots of other yummy treats. We were even able to find Loonies and Toonies for our Canadian Hanukkah gelt bags!  

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We wish you a happy holiday season and a joy-filled 2012! There will be more to come as we celebrate E's birthday, begin skiing, skating, and enjoying our second winter in Canada.  

Our Own Wine

One of the things about Canada that is not as great as the U.S. is the alcohol prices.  Last year, I gave J the book Boozehound for Christmas.  It it a really interesting book about the history and backstory of different alcohol and cocktails, and as a result, we decided to keep more of a complete bar in our home.

Moving to Canada, this was the wrong time to decide to diversify our drinking.  For example, Woodford Reserve Bourbon is $25 at the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario) and $18.90 at the ABC (Alcohol Beverage Control) store in Virginia, both state-run liquor stores.

Our next door neighbors offered us a fantastic glass of wine at their house. After complimenting them on it, we discovered that they had "made" it themselves at a local winery.  Here, you begin by adding yeast to the grapes and juice, and then you leave the mix in the winery for about 2 months, where they care for it.  Next, you go back to the winery where you bottle and label your wines.  Then you can enjoy.

We bottled Amarone-style wine, which goes for about $30 a bottle in the LCBO, and we've been really happy with our wine.  We named our wine "Phoney Baloney Amarone" and  "it's a terrible situation" after a story from one of J's co-workers.  We were able to get 30 bottles for about $250 and the cost of the bottles.  We can reuse the bottles the next time we bottle wine, so we don't recycle these bottles, we rinse them and save them for next time.

According to Judy at our winery, on-premises winemaking is popular in places like California, but may or may not be available in certain states, depending on local laws.  We ordered our wine from a kit, but some places may be more hands-on.  It was really fun.

I have fun pictures of this, but am having problems syncing my phone with my computer and got someone else's cloud pics so this time, no pics. But I didn't stomp on grapes like I expected either. Maybe next time.

My Mom Got A Tattoo. Really.

"What color do you want your tattoo to be?" Gabe, our tattoo artist, asks.
"Do you have Chanel pink?" my sister asks.
"No, but I have titty nipple pink."

My family is in Charleston, SC for the memorial service for my Aunt.  Her name was Kathleen Andrews, but everyone in our family called her Craze.

In honor of her crazy spirit, some of the women in our family thought we should get tattoos.  Mainly me, and my cousin Carla. We were so enthusiastic that my mom and sister may have gotten caught up in the excitement.

I don't know the last time you took your mom to a tattoo parlor, but I highly advise that you do it soon, with your entire family, if possible*.

We decided to get butterflies. It is in honor of a story that was told often by my aunt Craze, about a butterfly who needs to experience the struggle himself in order to be strong enough to be independent and free.  Interestingly, I was reminded of a parallel quote we used from the GT/AAP office about "stealing a child's struggle" and instead letting them work through the hard part to achieve their own accomplishments.

My mom and Carla got the same tattoo, pictured above. My more reluctant sister and I got this butterfly tattoo**, below:

I was pretty excited to go to get another tattoo, and I had also long wanted a daisy on my toe, so I also got one of those. It was from a camp song at girl scout camp. Ah, the lifelong positive influence of girl scouts.

The story gets better: this song is originally by the Smothers Brothers, and from an album called "Mom Always Liked You Best."

Tattoo Song:

There's a daisy on my toe

It is not real, it does not grow

It's just a tattoo of a flower

So I'll look cool while taking a shower

It's on the second toe of my left foot

A stem and flower, it has no root

Why? 'Cause that wouldn't look good!

There's a daisy on my toe

My right foot loves my left foot so! 

The actual lyrics are slightly different, but this is how I learned the song. I've wanted this tattoo for over 20 years.

Craze continues to extend her positive influence, even through she is not physically around.  I am filled with sadness and grief at her absence, and so much joy at watching the dolphins play in the water just off the water of where we are staying.  I am glad to see our family, and know that she is sitting on my shoulder, laughing with us and amazed at our whimsy.  My heart is glad to be in the place where I married J 10 years ago, and show my children the beach where we committed to each other.

I will miss Craze so much. She is the one who gave me my first Barbie doll, when my mom wouldn't. She was the fun Aunt, giving me popcorn for breakfast, taking me on adventures, letting me dress up and create parades through her house, play dog with her dog Polly, and creating another safe place for me.  She was always loving and fun.  She took this love to everyone she helped, and she helped so many.  I hope I can live my life, like her, in the spirit of love.

*Worried that I took my kids to a sketchy tattoo parlor? Don't be. We made reservations. It was a highly reputable tattoo parlor.  As far as those things go. Or, as I described it to J, a gallery of live body art.  S slept through most, E played on the phone. Do you feel better about it now? I'm probably the only person to drive a minivan and wheel a double stroller into this place.

**Worried we will regret this? My mom did. As we are driving home, mom asks, "do you think we'll regret this?"  "There isn't any buyer's remorse, mom," H says. "This s*%& is permanent."
But we're enjoying them so far.

An American Shopping for Stuffing, and other Sad News

It is very sad to shop for stuffing in Canada, especially almost two months after Canadians celebrated Thanksgiving.

I needed the very large bag of Pepperidge Farm seasoned cubes. My father's chestnut stuffing recipe is specific on what kind of bread shall be used.  Yes, I could make some sort of stale bread substitute, but it is taking a risk with a sacred recipe.

Off I went to Loblaw's.  The big one, this time, not the little one - the one that is most like Wegman's.  And I asked multiple salespeople for help. And still did not get everything on my list. The bonus for you American shoppers? Absolutely no crowds. The downside? No sales, and nothing was easy to find.

There was stuffing at Loblaw's, if you think Stovetop Stuffing would work for Thanksgiving. 'No!' I scoffed, 'There has to be something better.' I went to a specialty store looking for a candy thermometer for this recipe and stuffing, and we came home with 3 different kinds of mixes to look at and evaluate for comparison purposes. Perhaps one will live up to the expectations.

Don't get me started on asking people if they have peeled chestnuts. They do, they just don't know where they are. I did, however, find that chestnut puree is a popular item here. Hmm.  In case you need to make chestnut stuffing, the recipe follows, with more fun notes.

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We are thankful but sad here right now. After Thanksgiving, we'll head to Charleston to celebrate the life of my Aunt.  To put her in perspective, I've called her Craze my whole life, she taught me to sew, I played dog in her kitchen, and she would listen with love to anything I told her. I loved this woman.  I am thankful she is not in pain, and thankful I saw her before she passed, but so sad that she is gone. We laughed with her right until the end.

E was sad tonight, too.  A few weeks ago, she told me that she got homesick sometimes and she cried at night.  I didn't know that - I had seen her cry maybe 3-4 times since we moved - but tonight I caught her in her room. She was looking at some pictures of her old school and was so heartsick about not being there, and about being left behind.

While I am sad that she is upset, and I am, so very, very sad, I am at the same time so incredibly thankful for the time we had at this school.  Her teachers and the entire staff were loving and amazing people that fed her with confidence and happiness every day.  I don't think she or S would have been able to handle our move with as much poise as they did without the love and care that they received there.  There were such lessons in community and friendship and goodness and empowerment.  To think of the emotional mom-guilt coaster I was on when I was working and leaving them! Now I would leave them there overnight if I could!  E would stay with them, because that is how much she trusted them, and loved them, and felt good about being there, safe in her world, to learn and grow.  S is the same way. He walks into his nursery classroom confident that he will be treated with respect and caring, since that is the way he has been treated since he was 15 months.

When you make decisions, you don't know how they will work out.  I was a planner, and this sometimes terrifies me, but I seem, maybe, to be getting better about moving with the flow of my life.  Reflecting on the past few years, I find that things sometimes fit in ways beyond what I would have thought. (Duh?) I read today this quote, and it seems to apply, "We'd all like a guarantee before making a decision or taking a risk, but the irony is that taking the risk is what opens us to our fate." Mark Nepo

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Dad's Chestnut Stuffing

1 c. boiled, peeled chestnuts. If you are smart, you will buy the kind already prepared. If not, google how to do this in the oven.
1/4 c butter
1/4 c onion, finely chopped (mom pre-chops this because she likes it more finely chopped than dad)
1/2 c celery (this too)
2 tsps salt
pepper
3 c bread cubes (see note above)
2/3 cup hot water
1 1/2 tsps. dried sage (we buy a new one every Thanksgiving)

In butter, saute onion and celery for 10 min.  Combine with hot water, sage, salt, pepper and bread cubes.  Add chestnuts and toss lightly.  Stuff in cavity of turkey. Extra can go in a casserole on the side and get baked. Don't overcook that, add broth if it gets too dry.  Cook. Eat. Delicious.

We often double or triple this recipe, and Dad is often making this in his PJ's, with coffee next to him, with J holding the freezing cold, slippery turkey. Dad barks out orders. "Hold it that way. Turn it this way." This is a manly project in our house.

Remembrance Day: November 11

My Dad enlisted in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. He was stationed for a year in Thailand.  

I grew up learning that my Grandma, his mom, was the first female Marine in Wisconsin.  She told stories about working at the Pentagon to my Dad.

Right now, in Canada, everyone is wearing poppies to commemorate Remembrance Day, which is tomorrow.  Commonwealth countries celebrate it on the day of the signing of the Armistice, 11/11/1918.   America celebrates Veterans Day* tomorrow.

I am not wearing a poppy.  While I will adopt most Canadian traditions, this one feels like one I can't assume authentically.  I am not Canadian, and my armed forces are American. (Though in researching this blog, I found that Americans wore poppies as well after WWI.)  It makes me a bit sad that we see red poppies everywhere in Canada, a decidedly non-military country, and not something similar in the U.S., where we are so very proud of our military folks.  I would need to wear an American flag pin, like an American politician, and that just isn't going to happen here.  Why don't we have a visible symbol to remember our Veterans?  

Our world is getting more complicated.  One of my former colleague's husbands is in Afghanistan. One of my friend's husbands was in Afghanistan. Both are civilians - one former military, one foreign service. But still in a country with combat.  Among my military friends,  one has relocated with her family to Europe for several years, and still another spends several months away from her husband while he is deployed.  Are you a veteran if you fly drones from a bunker in Colorado? What about if you are a civilian in a war zone? What about if you are a police officer fighting terrorism? (not to be too homeland security about it)

I don't have answers, but tomorrow at 11 a.m. our family will stop, and watch the news, and stand silently, and talk about what it means to remember those who fight to protect us and keep us safe, like Paul and Papa.  And we'll thank them and be proud of them.  

"in Flanders fields" by Canadian John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

*The U.S. Government has decided that no apostrophe is grammatically correct in the spelling of this holiday.