This baseball season just simply couldn't get any better for me. Or maybe it couldn't get any worse.
The Colorado Rockies are winning the National League Championship Series 2 games to nil. Not even sure if the D'backs are bothering to show up. The Rockies have absolutely dominated the pitchers mound! They have won 19 of their last 20 games and they have a chance to seal the deal on 14 October at 8:30 (MST) which is 7 hours behind GMT. Which means I will undoubtedly get very little sleep on Sunday night/Monday morning.
GO Rockies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And in the American League Championship game the Red Sox are tied with the Cleveland Indians at 1 game all after an amazing (and disappointing) 11th inning last night.
C'mon Sox!!!!!!!
Now comes the tricky part. It would be a dream to see the Rockies in the World Series. It would be a dream to see the Red Sox in the World Series. it would be a disaster for me personally to have them play against each other. Who do I root for?
In other sporting news: England won against France in the semi final of the Rugby World Cup last night. I am not a big Rugby fan and after the humiliating loss of England's first game to South Africa 36-0 I was reticent to watch anymore. But last week England beat Australia 12-10 in the last 20 minutes of the game. And last night they did the same to France.
After an early try scored for England, France dominated the game and led most of the way. But then England pulled out all the stops. I'm not sure where they got the energy. They must have dug deep and the French must have been hugely frustrated. No matter how hard they ran, how hard they played England stopped them dead in their tracks. Two kicks saved England and after an agonising 2 minutes of injury time during which the French threatened to score, England was ultimately victorious with a final score of 14-9.
Tonight South Africa take on Argentina to determine who will play England in the final game next week.
One question which is constantly posed to me and I am weak to defend is why is the baseball championship called the World Series when only 2 nations play in it? Both the Rugby World cup and the Football (soccer) World Cup have teams from all over the world. Any answers?
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Saturday, 13 October 2007
Nobel Observations
The Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to Doris Lessing just a few days ago.
I have tried to read Doris Lessing upon the recommendation of my sister (although she now denies ever having recommended it to me). Some of my more astute readers will remember the result which were document in this post. Let's just say it wasn't flattering.
And then I read the author's reaction to winning the prize as reported in the New York Times:
"Either they were going to give it to me sometime before I popped off or not at all."
I could say the same thing! She's not very clever, is she? So what exactly is the criteria for winning the Nobel Prize?
On a more positive note, my hero, Al Gore, shared the Nobel Peace Prize with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. The IPCC assesses scientific information related to human-induced climate change. This is a well earned, well deserved award.
Not so sure about the literature prize though. Seems to me the thought "gee she wrote lots and she's getting on in years, maybe we oughta give her an award or something". Kinda like those lifetime achievement awards at the Oscars for those actors who never actually won during their career but made so many dang bad films we gotta tip our hats to them!
So I went back through the list of Nobel Prizes for Literature. I was afraid that over the last several decades, there were only 3 or 4 writers whose names I even recognised. I found that as I travelled back in time I was far more familiar with the authors and had more than likely read their several of their books. I even found some of my favourites: Pearl S Buck, John Steinbeck, TS Eliot, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, Isaac Bashevis Singer. Does this mean that good literature needs to age, like fine wine and superb port? Or that the Nobel committee used to be much better at picking out winners?
Another observation I made was if the authors were not American, English or Irish I did not recognise their names nor could I cite their works. Their were a couple of exceptions: Gabriel Garcia Marquez who hails from Columbia(whose work 100 Years of Solitude I have been trying to read off and on for over 6 years now); JM Coetzee who is originally from South Africa but now lives in Australia. I don't know about him from his writing but due to the controversy surrounding his, according to some, abandonment of his mother country for the good life in a Western culture. I also recognised last years winner, Orhan Pamuk but only because the book group forced me to read his book which I hate to admit but did really enjoy.
Why are authors from other countries not translated and published in foreign countries? Any one?
I have tried to read Doris Lessing upon the recommendation of my sister (although she now denies ever having recommended it to me). Some of my more astute readers will remember the result which were document in this post. Let's just say it wasn't flattering.
And then I read the author's reaction to winning the prize as reported in the New York Times:
"Either they were going to give it to me sometime before I popped off or not at all."
I could say the same thing! She's not very clever, is she? So what exactly is the criteria for winning the Nobel Prize?
On a more positive note, my hero, Al Gore, shared the Nobel Peace Prize with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. The IPCC assesses scientific information related to human-induced climate change. This is a well earned, well deserved award.
Not so sure about the literature prize though. Seems to me the thought "gee she wrote lots and she's getting on in years, maybe we oughta give her an award or something". Kinda like those lifetime achievement awards at the Oscars for those actors who never actually won during their career but made so many dang bad films we gotta tip our hats to them!
So I went back through the list of Nobel Prizes for Literature. I was afraid that over the last several decades, there were only 3 or 4 writers whose names I even recognised. I found that as I travelled back in time I was far more familiar with the authors and had more than likely read their several of their books. I even found some of my favourites: Pearl S Buck, John Steinbeck, TS Eliot, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, Isaac Bashevis Singer. Does this mean that good literature needs to age, like fine wine and superb port? Or that the Nobel committee used to be much better at picking out winners?
Another observation I made was if the authors were not American, English or Irish I did not recognise their names nor could I cite their works. Their were a couple of exceptions: Gabriel Garcia Marquez who hails from Columbia(whose work 100 Years of Solitude I have been trying to read off and on for over 6 years now); JM Coetzee who is originally from South Africa but now lives in Australia. I don't know about him from his writing but due to the controversy surrounding his, according to some, abandonment of his mother country for the good life in a Western culture. I also recognised last years winner, Orhan Pamuk but only because the book group forced me to read his book which I hate to admit but did really enjoy.
Why are authors from other countries not translated and published in foreign countries? Any one?
Hardest Job
I've posted about the first job I've ever had. That post generated lots of comments and posts from fellow bloggers about their first jobs. Now I though I would post about the hardest job I ever had.
During my last year at high school I left Wendy's and went to work at Lakewood Bar and Grill. I thought the money would be a bit better. Instead of the minimum wage offered by the fast food industry, I would be given a small hourly wage and then be compensated with a share of the waitresses tips based solely on how well I cleared the tables of their customers.
Lakewood Bar & Grill was a local watering hole on Colfax Avenue which runs the full length east to west across the suburbs and right through the centre of Denver. In the city it is the hotbed for prostitution and drug dealing. In Lakewood, it is the hotbed for dodgy used car dealerships and second hand shops.
The grill had good breakfast and as a child we often went there after church for our Sunday morning breakfast. Most of the customers were locals who sat at the bar or families who came in for dinner. We also had a large number of truckers who stopped in for their meals.
I formed some very good relationships with the waitresses and found them to be fascinating characters. I figured out what their expectations were since each wanted their customers handled slightly differently. I was quick and careful to be not intrusive. I don't think I ever dropped or broke anything.
I didn't mind clearing the tables. The waitresses always gave me at the very least my fair shares of their tips and often I was given generous sums.
The worst part of this job was when we were having a slow night I had to clean the cellar. All the beer kegs were kept down there and I had to clean the floor which meant I had to shift the beer kegs around.
I weighed maybe roughly 70 lbs. I believe the beer kegs weighed more than I did. I would get home from those shifts aching to the core of my body. there were several times I would sit down and cry.
The waitresses used to tell the owner that he really needed to ask someone else to do the shifting but he wouldn't. For some reason I just don't think he liked me very much.
After a couple of months, I quit the job. It wasn't because of the beer kegs. I quit because my mom and I agreed that the late night walk home was too dangerous for a young girl of 17. Looking back on it, I think that was a good decision. We had to walk through a very dodgy part of Lakewood and even now I don't think I would do that late at night.
So that's the hardest job I've ever had....not bad really. I wasn't cleaning toilets. And I wasn't standing on a busy street in the blazing heat trying to sell hot dogs. Ask my sister!
During my last year at high school I left Wendy's and went to work at Lakewood Bar and Grill. I thought the money would be a bit better. Instead of the minimum wage offered by the fast food industry, I would be given a small hourly wage and then be compensated with a share of the waitresses tips based solely on how well I cleared the tables of their customers.
Lakewood Bar & Grill was a local watering hole on Colfax Avenue which runs the full length east to west across the suburbs and right through the centre of Denver. In the city it is the hotbed for prostitution and drug dealing. In Lakewood, it is the hotbed for dodgy used car dealerships and second hand shops.
The grill had good breakfast and as a child we often went there after church for our Sunday morning breakfast. Most of the customers were locals who sat at the bar or families who came in for dinner. We also had a large number of truckers who stopped in for their meals.
I formed some very good relationships with the waitresses and found them to be fascinating characters. I figured out what their expectations were since each wanted their customers handled slightly differently. I was quick and careful to be not intrusive. I don't think I ever dropped or broke anything.
I didn't mind clearing the tables. The waitresses always gave me at the very least my fair shares of their tips and often I was given generous sums.
The worst part of this job was when we were having a slow night I had to clean the cellar. All the beer kegs were kept down there and I had to clean the floor which meant I had to shift the beer kegs around.
I weighed maybe roughly 70 lbs. I believe the beer kegs weighed more than I did. I would get home from those shifts aching to the core of my body. there were several times I would sit down and cry.
The waitresses used to tell the owner that he really needed to ask someone else to do the shifting but he wouldn't. For some reason I just don't think he liked me very much.
After a couple of months, I quit the job. It wasn't because of the beer kegs. I quit because my mom and I agreed that the late night walk home was too dangerous for a young girl of 17. Looking back on it, I think that was a good decision. We had to walk through a very dodgy part of Lakewood and even now I don't think I would do that late at night.
So that's the hardest job I've ever had....not bad really. I wasn't cleaning toilets. And I wasn't standing on a busy street in the blazing heat trying to sell hot dogs. Ask my sister!
Fabric
In 1992 I found myself living in Germany and the civil servants were striking. I didn't know exactly what that meant to me personally. Until the very fabric of daily life began to break down. The first place I felt the impact was our lack of post (mail). But hey, I didn't care - at first. I received no bills - wahoo! And then I received no letters from home. OK, that wasn't so good.
Then the tram drivers weren't driving. But I had a boyfriend with a car so he could drop me off at the office. But with the trams off the traffic on the roads was horrendous and what should have been a 15 minute journey turned into an hour. It was faster to walk which I would have done if not for the relentless rain of Dusseldorf.
Then catastrophe. The rubbish wasn't being picked up. We were very careful about our household waste and tried to seriously limit ourselves. But then we went into the Altstadt to do our shopping in the town centre market (where you go to buy all fresh fruit and veg) for the week). There was a heap of rubbish off to the side.
It smelled bad. Very bad. And the rats had moved in. They thought they had hit pay dirt! Literally.
The strikes lasted for 2 weeks. It was bedlam. And I have always been amazed at how quickly the fabric of civilised society started to break down.
The Royal Mail (the company owned by the government who delivers the post) is trying to modernise under the intense of competition of email and private courier companies. The postal workers (eg post men) want to secure their pensions.
To me it appears to be a breakdown of communication: you won't have a job or a pension because the company will go bankrupt if we don't make these changes.
The postal workers have gone on strike. Last month we had 2 days of official industrial action (strike). During that time, loads of mail went missing and was never delivered. Small business who rely on regular cash flow were paralyzed and in many cases went bust.
This week we've had a further 2 days of official action and 2 days of unofficial. Over the last 7 days, we've received 5 pieces of post. Normally, we receive twice that every day.
I kept telling myself at least it was just the postal workers. Not to worry.
Then on the way to work I heard the most extraordinary news story. Over the last few months the theft of metal has increased dramatically. What is metal theft?
Apparently, unsavoury, dishonest and greedy individuals steel everything from road signs to manhole covers to bus station frameworks to copper piping in hospices to aluminum flower holders at gravesides. Everything is melted down and sold to satisfy the demand for metal at an increasing price.
Oh, why do I feel like the very fabric of society is breaking down around me?
Then the tram drivers weren't driving. But I had a boyfriend with a car so he could drop me off at the office. But with the trams off the traffic on the roads was horrendous and what should have been a 15 minute journey turned into an hour. It was faster to walk which I would have done if not for the relentless rain of Dusseldorf.
Then catastrophe. The rubbish wasn't being picked up. We were very careful about our household waste and tried to seriously limit ourselves. But then we went into the Altstadt to do our shopping in the town centre market (where you go to buy all fresh fruit and veg) for the week). There was a heap of rubbish off to the side.
It smelled bad. Very bad. And the rats had moved in. They thought they had hit pay dirt! Literally.
The strikes lasted for 2 weeks. It was bedlam. And I have always been amazed at how quickly the fabric of civilised society started to break down.
The Royal Mail (the company owned by the government who delivers the post) is trying to modernise under the intense of competition of email and private courier companies. The postal workers (eg post men) want to secure their pensions.
To me it appears to be a breakdown of communication: you won't have a job or a pension because the company will go bankrupt if we don't make these changes.
The postal workers have gone on strike. Last month we had 2 days of official industrial action (strike). During that time, loads of mail went missing and was never delivered. Small business who rely on regular cash flow were paralyzed and in many cases went bust.
This week we've had a further 2 days of official action and 2 days of unofficial. Over the last 7 days, we've received 5 pieces of post. Normally, we receive twice that every day.
I kept telling myself at least it was just the postal workers. Not to worry.
Then on the way to work I heard the most extraordinary news story. Over the last few months the theft of metal has increased dramatically. What is metal theft?
Apparently, unsavoury, dishonest and greedy individuals steel everything from road signs to manhole covers to bus station frameworks to copper piping in hospices to aluminum flower holders at gravesides. Everything is melted down and sold to satisfy the demand for metal at an increasing price.
Oh, why do I feel like the very fabric of society is breaking down around me?
Friday, 12 October 2007
The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penny
This was the October selection for my book group. I missed last month and despite having an invite from the Year 2 Mum's Group from school for a mum's night out I decided I wanted to spend it with my book group. Besides they went in the diary first!
This book is a murder mystery in the most simplistic terms. But there are some complex story lines which add some depth and interest to the story. Set in the Canadian wilderness in 1967, a man is found brutally scalped (is there any other kind of scalping?) and a woman's son has gone missing.
The book is full of vivid descriptions of the white blindness surrounding much of the northern Canadian landscape. And the characters are likable, despicable, loving, vile in turn. It is a captivating story rich with deep and thoroughly human characters. There is no superficial treatment of any of the plot lines.
Which is part of my only problem with the novel. There is a lot going on and the author uses pronouns liberally, particularly at the beginning of chapters so you are never entirely sure of whose perspective you are reading. She also alternates between the use of the character's last name and first name. it took me a while to figure out who everyone is and to future readers of the novel, I recommend you keep a little crib sheet with you as a book mark which is what I did when I read East of Eden, another novel loaded with characters.
This book was a bit of a surprise. It is the debut novel from Stef Penney. She is a Scottish agoraphobic who has never travelled to Canada and in fact finds it incredibly stressful just to leave her home. I'm not sure how authors do that. I've always thought you write about what you know. In fact, once when I was musing about the great novel inside my head, a friend of mine said to me "But you don't know anything about that." I'm sure she meant well and I thought ok, maybe I need another idea. But now I realise I don't. But you do need extraordinary talent and lots of hard work to be able to produce a novel as robust as The Tenderness of Wolves.
Highly Recommended!
Book Group Review: Only a few of us finished the novel. Those that did loved it. Those that didn't were inspired to hurry it up! Only BE felt that the editing wasn't as tidy as it could of been. KH, HA, and I agreed that we liked the loose ends. Life doesn't get all tidied up. There are always loose ends. The resident Canadian, HA, couldn't believe how accurate the detailing of the landscape was. She was amazed when she discovered that the author had never actually visited Canada.
Next Month's Selection: The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai.
This book is a murder mystery in the most simplistic terms. But there are some complex story lines which add some depth and interest to the story. Set in the Canadian wilderness in 1967, a man is found brutally scalped (is there any other kind of scalping?) and a woman's son has gone missing.
The book is full of vivid descriptions of the white blindness surrounding much of the northern Canadian landscape. And the characters are likable, despicable, loving, vile in turn. It is a captivating story rich with deep and thoroughly human characters. There is no superficial treatment of any of the plot lines.
Which is part of my only problem with the novel. There is a lot going on and the author uses pronouns liberally, particularly at the beginning of chapters so you are never entirely sure of whose perspective you are reading. She also alternates between the use of the character's last name and first name. it took me a while to figure out who everyone is and to future readers of the novel, I recommend you keep a little crib sheet with you as a book mark which is what I did when I read East of Eden, another novel loaded with characters.
This book was a bit of a surprise. It is the debut novel from Stef Penney. She is a Scottish agoraphobic who has never travelled to Canada and in fact finds it incredibly stressful just to leave her home. I'm not sure how authors do that. I've always thought you write about what you know. In fact, once when I was musing about the great novel inside my head, a friend of mine said to me "But you don't know anything about that." I'm sure she meant well and I thought ok, maybe I need another idea. But now I realise I don't. But you do need extraordinary talent and lots of hard work to be able to produce a novel as robust as The Tenderness of Wolves.
Highly Recommended!
Book Group Review: Only a few of us finished the novel. Those that did loved it. Those that didn't were inspired to hurry it up! Only BE felt that the editing wasn't as tidy as it could of been. KH, HA, and I agreed that we liked the loose ends. Life doesn't get all tidied up. There are always loose ends. The resident Canadian, HA, couldn't believe how accurate the detailing of the landscape was. She was amazed when she discovered that the author had never actually visited Canada.
Next Month's Selection: The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Wedding Anniversary
My husband and I have been married 5 years yesterday 10 October. I can't imagine not being married to him.
When we met in 1999 in a pub in Windsor we had both been going to that pub for 3 years before that and never set eyes upon each other. Clearly we weren't ready to meet each other before that night. Because since we met we haven't really been apart. We married 3 years after we met (to the day). My Nanny once told me it was destiny and we both just had to be ready and that's why I made (what seemed at the time) a rather absurd decision to stay in the UK.
My neighbour, Dawn and I were there to watch the Rugby World Cup. I was walking through the pub looking for Dawn. God only knows where she went. It isn't a big place and I never did find her that night. As I walked past Marc, I bumped into him (accidentally, I swear) and said "Excuse me." He asked me "What part of Ireland are you from?" I told him he was an idiot. He clearly didn't understand what I said (must have been my accent) and thought that I wanted to speak to him. Then it was last bell and I didn't walk to walk home in the dark alone. I had to go through a very dark, deserted alley to get to my flat about 1/2 mile from the pub and in a drunken state of mind, I thought it was safer to ask a complete (and equally drunken) stranger who thought I was Irish to walk me home. He did.
The next day he sent me a sappy poem via text message all about taking a trip round the Milky Way together so I decided to see him again. And he knew how to sail and it was something I always wanted to learn to do and I thought he could teach me. We've been together ever since.
Our wedding was a small affair, VERY small. It was just the two of us and two friends, Mike and Gillian. The limo picked Gillian and I up at our house in Windsor. Marc had stayed at Mike's house overnight and Uncle John took the two of them to the Registry Office in Kensington, London. My limo got caught in traffic hence my belated arrival. Just before the ceremony started, I handed Mike the video camera and informed him that he would be the videographer for the day and our wedding video is the funniest and best I've ever seen.
He was the first man to make me believe I could raise a family with him. He was the first man I thought I could spend an entire lifetime with in relative happiness. He was the first man to make me laugh in my darkest hours.
We are extreme opposites. He'll be late for his own funeral (although I was late for the wedding and he was on time). I am the epitome of punctuality. Five minutes late is too late, in my opinion. I am a neat freak. His office looks like Hurricane Katrina has landed. He obsesses about cars. I soooo don't care.
We both love sailing. We both love travelling. We both love The West Wing. We both love our children.
He is my soft place to fall. He knows when to argue and when to throw in the towel. He knows what I like and what I hate. Together our dreams have come true and we continue to build new dreams for the future.
I love you, Marc!
When we met in 1999 in a pub in Windsor we had both been going to that pub for 3 years before that and never set eyes upon each other. Clearly we weren't ready to meet each other before that night. Because since we met we haven't really been apart. We married 3 years after we met (to the day). My Nanny once told me it was destiny and we both just had to be ready and that's why I made (what seemed at the time) a rather absurd decision to stay in the UK.
My neighbour, Dawn and I were there to watch the Rugby World Cup. I was walking through the pub looking for Dawn. God only knows where she went. It isn't a big place and I never did find her that night. As I walked past Marc, I bumped into him (accidentally, I swear) and said "Excuse me." He asked me "What part of Ireland are you from?" I told him he was an idiot. He clearly didn't understand what I said (must have been my accent) and thought that I wanted to speak to him. Then it was last bell and I didn't walk to walk home in the dark alone. I had to go through a very dark, deserted alley to get to my flat about 1/2 mile from the pub and in a drunken state of mind, I thought it was safer to ask a complete (and equally drunken) stranger who thought I was Irish to walk me home. He did.
The next day he sent me a sappy poem via text message all about taking a trip round the Milky Way together so I decided to see him again. And he knew how to sail and it was something I always wanted to learn to do and I thought he could teach me. We've been together ever since.
Our wedding was a small affair, VERY small. It was just the two of us and two friends, Mike and Gillian. The limo picked Gillian and I up at our house in Windsor. Marc had stayed at Mike's house overnight and Uncle John took the two of them to the Registry Office in Kensington, London. My limo got caught in traffic hence my belated arrival. Just before the ceremony started, I handed Mike the video camera and informed him that he would be the videographer for the day and our wedding video is the funniest and best I've ever seen.
He was the first man to make me believe I could raise a family with him. He was the first man I thought I could spend an entire lifetime with in relative happiness. He was the first man to make me laugh in my darkest hours.
We are extreme opposites. He'll be late for his own funeral (although I was late for the wedding and he was on time). I am the epitome of punctuality. Five minutes late is too late, in my opinion. I am a neat freak. His office looks like Hurricane Katrina has landed. He obsesses about cars. I soooo don't care.
We both love sailing. We both love travelling. We both love The West Wing. We both love our children.
He is my soft place to fall. He knows when to argue and when to throw in the towel. He knows what I like and what I hate. Together our dreams have come true and we continue to build new dreams for the future.
I love you, Marc!
Monday, 8 October 2007
Homesick
There are some days when I am homesick more than others. Some days I miss my family. Some days I just miss living in the good ole US of A with those great big huge parking spaces. And other days I really miss living in one of the most beautiful places in the world: Colorado.
Today is one of those days.
Last night the Colorado Rockies swept the series to win 3 games in a row. And how I wish I had been a part of that celebration.
Not only are the Rockies headed for the National League Championship Series against the Arizona Diamondbacks, they are also headed for the record books. They have won 17 of their last 18 games. 3 of those were in the post season wins.
The series starts on Thursday, 11 October. I am checking flights now!
Today is one of those days.
Last night the Colorado Rockies swept the series to win 3 games in a row. And how I wish I had been a part of that celebration.
Not only are the Rockies headed for the National League Championship Series against the Arizona Diamondbacks, they are also headed for the record books. They have won 17 of their last 18 games. 3 of those were in the post season wins.
The series starts on Thursday, 11 October. I am checking flights now!
Spoon Full of Sugar
You know it's bad when you start taking parenting advice from Mary Poppins.
Abigail has been taking antibiotics for her impetigo. She is supposed to have a dose four times/day. The medicine tastes vile and she is refusing at the gate.
The first couple of days we could almost get her to take it. Then she got smart and started refusing. She would spit it out or vomit it up. We had antibiotic liquid all over everywhere.
I asked the doctor for another prescription and permission to mix it with other things. We started hiding it in her drinks: juice and milk. She got wise and started refusing to drink. We mixed it with ice cream. She knew what we were up to and refused that as well.
We started taking away toys away. She didn't care. Last night we had cleared her room of every toy she owned and she still refused to take the medicine.
We finally had to pin her down, plug her nose, pry open her mouth and force it down her.
This morning we've tried the spoon full of sugar after the medicina as an enticement. So far so good. We still have to pin her down but the sugar seems to get rid of the horrible after taste and she's not complaining half as much as she was.
Only 3 more days to go. I'm exhausted.
Abigail has been taking antibiotics for her impetigo. She is supposed to have a dose four times/day. The medicine tastes vile and she is refusing at the gate.
The first couple of days we could almost get her to take it. Then she got smart and started refusing. She would spit it out or vomit it up. We had antibiotic liquid all over everywhere.
I asked the doctor for another prescription and permission to mix it with other things. We started hiding it in her drinks: juice and milk. She got wise and started refusing to drink. We mixed it with ice cream. She knew what we were up to and refused that as well.
We started taking away toys away. She didn't care. Last night we had cleared her room of every toy she owned and she still refused to take the medicine.
We finally had to pin her down, plug her nose, pry open her mouth and force it down her.
This morning we've tried the spoon full of sugar after the medicina as an enticement. So far so good. We still have to pin her down but the sugar seems to get rid of the horrible after taste and she's not complaining half as much as she was.
Only 3 more days to go. I'm exhausted.
Saturday, 6 October 2007
Curses
I don't believe in curses....except when it comes to baseball. Anyone who knows anything about baseball knows about the legendary Curse of the Bambino that plagued the Boston Red Sox until they won the World Series in 2005. Baseball is a sport filled with odd superstitions. The players are superstitious, the managers are superstitious, and the fans are superstitious.
As I watch the Chicago Cubs fall apart yet again this postseason, I am reminded of the Curse of the Billy Goat. What do we gotta do to break that spell?
In the meantime....Go Sox Go! Go Rockies Go! Both teams are 2 games up in a 5 game series!
As I watch the Chicago Cubs fall apart yet again this postseason, I am reminded of the Curse of the Billy Goat. What do we gotta do to break that spell?
In the meantime....Go Sox Go! Go Rockies Go! Both teams are 2 games up in a 5 game series!
Friday, 5 October 2007
Letting Go
3 October was my Grandmother's birthday. Well, not exactly. Does a dead person still have a birthday? I can't send a card and I can't send them an email. There is no birthday cake or special supper.
But days like these are still marked in my calendar. I'm still electronically reminded by my online calendar that it was her birthday. Her name is written next to the date in my birthday card organiser.
Just like her phone number is still in my speed dial even though if I were to dial it I'm not sure if I would get someone else or one of those irritating voice recordings telling me that number is no longer in service. I've never actually tried to dial the number. Although I've nearly called her on a number of occasions. Until I remember she wouldn't be there to answer. She is on my list of webcam contacts. We used it only a few times before she died. But her names is still there. She is still listed in m y Skype contacts although I must say we never quite mastered that method of communication.
Her email address is still in my contact list and her home address is still in my phone book. Her name is still on my Christmas card and gift list.
I have a black cardigan that belonged to her and her dressing gown. I refuse to wash the dressing gown and I wore the cardigan today.
I received our Family Cookbook in the post a few weeks ago. I was so happy. And then I started reading it. I read all the wonderful recipes that Nanny had submitted previously and my heart broke when I realised she will not be making any future submissions.
I still miss her a bit every single day.
But days like these are still marked in my calendar. I'm still electronically reminded by my online calendar that it was her birthday. Her name is written next to the date in my birthday card organiser.
Just like her phone number is still in my speed dial even though if I were to dial it I'm not sure if I would get someone else or one of those irritating voice recordings telling me that number is no longer in service. I've never actually tried to dial the number. Although I've nearly called her on a number of occasions. Until I remember she wouldn't be there to answer. She is on my list of webcam contacts. We used it only a few times before she died. But her names is still there. She is still listed in m y Skype contacts although I must say we never quite mastered that method of communication.
Her email address is still in my contact list and her home address is still in my phone book. Her name is still on my Christmas card and gift list.
I have a black cardigan that belonged to her and her dressing gown. I refuse to wash the dressing gown and I wore the cardigan today.
I received our Family Cookbook in the post a few weeks ago. I was so happy. And then I started reading it. I read all the wonderful recipes that Nanny had submitted previously and my heart broke when I realised she will not be making any future submissions.
I still miss her a bit every single day.
Incompatability
It is moments like these when I am reminded how impossible it is fr 2 adults to both have careers and raise a family.
Marc & I have this discussion every time one of our children are ill and must stay home from school and/or the child minder.
Who stays home? Who cancels their entire day in the office and nurses a child back to health?
One of the reasons we choose for Marc to run his own business was so that we would have the flexibility for Marc to stay home in precisely these situations. In reality, because Marc works for himself and his customers depend on him, he finds it quite difficult often to rearrange appointments and certainly if a customers has something going wrong he must respond. If he doesn't work he gets paid. And there's very little opportunity for him to work from home.
Finally, Marc is not a natural carer. He finds the whole sickness thing intolerable.
I on the other hand find mothering, well, intuitive, I will hold my child for hours, if it makes them feel better and eases their pain.
I have quite a bit of scope to work from home although rescheduling meetings is difficult. I can sometimes dial into the meetings. And I get paid when I need to take a day off. Which means that it usually ends up being me that stays home to take care of the children when one of them is ill. I'm sure this affects my career. I feel like I let my colleagues down, I let my team down, I let my company down but I refuse to let my children down.
Abigail's impetigo has meant that due to its contagious nature she cannot go to school or the child minder. Yesterday, I stayed home to take care of Abigail. The sores are nasty and itchy and painful. She is grumpy and doesn't understand. I dialed into my morning meetings but had to give my afternoon meetings a miss as she was particularly uncomfortable and cried for most of the afternoon.
This morning I have a meeting which would be extremely difficult to reschedule. My attendance and participation is required. It is a morning long meeting. So Marc has rescheduled 3 appointments with clients and we will do a midday handover. His clients have agreed to reschedule to this afternoon and I will come home as soon as my meeting is finished.
No one is entirely happy with the solution. Marc and I used to argue about whose career was more important or about the right way to care for a sick child. There was no answer so we don't argue about it anymore. We are both just doing the best we can. We can't ask for any more than that.
Marc & I have this discussion every time one of our children are ill and must stay home from school and/or the child minder.
Who stays home? Who cancels their entire day in the office and nurses a child back to health?
One of the reasons we choose for Marc to run his own business was so that we would have the flexibility for Marc to stay home in precisely these situations. In reality, because Marc works for himself and his customers depend on him, he finds it quite difficult often to rearrange appointments and certainly if a customers has something going wrong he must respond. If he doesn't work he gets paid. And there's very little opportunity for him to work from home.
Finally, Marc is not a natural carer. He finds the whole sickness thing intolerable.
I on the other hand find mothering, well, intuitive, I will hold my child for hours, if it makes them feel better and eases their pain.
I have quite a bit of scope to work from home although rescheduling meetings is difficult. I can sometimes dial into the meetings. And I get paid when I need to take a day off. Which means that it usually ends up being me that stays home to take care of the children when one of them is ill. I'm sure this affects my career. I feel like I let my colleagues down, I let my team down, I let my company down but I refuse to let my children down.
Abigail's impetigo has meant that due to its contagious nature she cannot go to school or the child minder. Yesterday, I stayed home to take care of Abigail. The sores are nasty and itchy and painful. She is grumpy and doesn't understand. I dialed into my morning meetings but had to give my afternoon meetings a miss as she was particularly uncomfortable and cried for most of the afternoon.
This morning I have a meeting which would be extremely difficult to reschedule. My attendance and participation is required. It is a morning long meeting. So Marc has rescheduled 3 appointments with clients and we will do a midday handover. His clients have agreed to reschedule to this afternoon and I will come home as soon as my meeting is finished.
No one is entirely happy with the solution. Marc and I used to argue about whose career was more important or about the right way to care for a sick child. There was no answer so we don't argue about it anymore. We are both just doing the best we can. We can't ask for any more than that.
Thursday, 4 October 2007
A Storytelling Heritage
As I wrote and published my City Girl story, I suddenly missed my grandmother. Not because she had gone drinking with any of us or even that she was with us on that nothing short of heroic road trip. She did help us recover the day after but that isn't what caused my heart to ache for her presence.
It was the fact that I'd written the story down. You see, I come from a family of story tellers. We tell the same stories over and over at every possible gathering of more than 1 family member. My sister and I can crack ourselves up just retelling a story to each other. You can see by the comments left after my City Girl story that the story continues to grow.
Many times these stories got retold around the dining table at my Grandmother's house. We don't gather there anymore. And the opportunities to gather as a family are few and far between, especially since I live 5,000 miles away.
And we've never written these stories down. Until now. I hope I haven't broken some ancient family rule.
It was the fact that I'd written the story down. You see, I come from a family of story tellers. We tell the same stories over and over at every possible gathering of more than 1 family member. My sister and I can crack ourselves up just retelling a story to each other. You can see by the comments left after my City Girl story that the story continues to grow.
Many times these stories got retold around the dining table at my Grandmother's house. We don't gather there anymore. And the opportunities to gather as a family are few and far between, especially since I live 5,000 miles away.
And we've never written these stories down. Until now. I hope I haven't broken some ancient family rule.
City Girl
I have a cousin named Valerie whom I love dearly. Pretty much my entire family had taken a road trip up to Weyland, Wyoming to see my cousin, Chris marry a local girl named, Sherry.
The afternoon was spent on a golf course playing a family round. My uncle, Ed, was serving margaritas off the back of one of the golf buggies.
The ceremony was short and sweet which was nearly our undoing since we were almost late due to our golf game running a bit over. But we made it in time. The margaritas meant we were had gotten a pretty good start on the merriness for the reception afterwards.
Some of Chris's university buddies were at the reception and everyone had a great time dancing. The highlight of the evening was when Stephanie, my beloved sister, grabbed the microphone out of the DJ's hands and starting singing her very own karaoke version of Prince's Little Red Corvette.
I do believe my Aunt Sandy (Chris's mother) was a wee bit horrified and was happy to see the back of us when the reception was over.
We had done a fairly good job of completely trashing my cousin's pickup with Wedding decorations including shaving foam and the ever useful condoms. Whilst they found it difficult to actually get into the truck and drive away we were proud of our handiwork!
The night was far from over for the party animals amongst us. This included Chris's uni buddies, my sister, and my cousins, Valerie and Buddy. On the way over to the bar, Valerie started telling everyone that she was a City Girl and could keep up with just about any country hick.
Valerie was a bit underage to go into a bar but that didn't stop this family from rallying around her when we entered the bar. And I mean literally around her.
Valerie is short. Like me and my sister, so we put her in the middle of the group and we all huddled and sort of shuffled in the door. I reckon this bar hadn't seen quite so many people enter at one time ever so they were a bit overwhelmed. Or maybe we were just a millte rambunctious.
Valerie continued to persist with her proclamation of her superior drinking abilities due to the fact that she was a "City Girl". Every shot she did she proclaimed she was a "City Girl". This worked right up until she passed out on the table. We just let her have a bit of a rest and we kept right on dancing.
I had a bit of a close encounter with a trash can and the waitress was really not very happy with me but we won't talk about that since this is my blog. Besides, the shot of tequila fixed everything right up!
The next morning the lot of us looked like we had all seen better days. Chris and Sherry are happily married living in Arizona with their 4 sons. And Valerie has never lived down her nickname as "City Girl".
The afternoon was spent on a golf course playing a family round. My uncle, Ed, was serving margaritas off the back of one of the golf buggies.
The ceremony was short and sweet which was nearly our undoing since we were almost late due to our golf game running a bit over. But we made it in time. The margaritas meant we were had gotten a pretty good start on the merriness for the reception afterwards.
Some of Chris's university buddies were at the reception and everyone had a great time dancing. The highlight of the evening was when Stephanie, my beloved sister, grabbed the microphone out of the DJ's hands and starting singing her very own karaoke version of Prince's Little Red Corvette.
I do believe my Aunt Sandy (Chris's mother) was a wee bit horrified and was happy to see the back of us when the reception was over.
We had done a fairly good job of completely trashing my cousin's pickup with Wedding decorations including shaving foam and the ever useful condoms. Whilst they found it difficult to actually get into the truck and drive away we were proud of our handiwork!
The night was far from over for the party animals amongst us. This included Chris's uni buddies, my sister, and my cousins, Valerie and Buddy. On the way over to the bar, Valerie started telling everyone that she was a City Girl and could keep up with just about any country hick.
Valerie was a bit underage to go into a bar but that didn't stop this family from rallying around her when we entered the bar. And I mean literally around her.
Valerie is short. Like me and my sister, so we put her in the middle of the group and we all huddled and sort of shuffled in the door. I reckon this bar hadn't seen quite so many people enter at one time ever so they were a bit overwhelmed. Or maybe we were just a millte rambunctious.
Valerie continued to persist with her proclamation of her superior drinking abilities due to the fact that she was a "City Girl". Every shot she did she proclaimed she was a "City Girl". This worked right up until she passed out on the table. We just let her have a bit of a rest and we kept right on dancing.
I had a bit of a close encounter with a trash can and the waitress was really not very happy with me but we won't talk about that since this is my blog. Besides, the shot of tequila fixed everything right up!
The next morning the lot of us looked like we had all seen better days. Chris and Sherry are happily married living in Arizona with their 4 sons. And Valerie has never lived down her nickname as "City Girl".
Baseball Update
Apologies to my UK readers but my obsession with baseball is gonna take over for just a short while. I will try to do another post to keep you entertained/informed.
Only the Chicago Cubs let me down after the scores for the first Games of the playoff have been tallied. Josh Beckett pitched an amazing game for the Sox and the Rockies got a wee bit lucky with some bad Phillies pitching. Thank heaven for Holliday who didn't let us down with another home run! Could someone go light a fire under the Cubs and tell them they are in the race for the Pennant? For clips of the games click here.
Only the Chicago Cubs let me down after the scores for the first Games of the playoff have been tallied. Josh Beckett pitched an amazing game for the Sox and the Rockies got a wee bit lucky with some bad Phillies pitching. Thank heaven for Holliday who didn't let us down with another home run! Could someone go light a fire under the Cubs and tell them they are in the race for the Pennant? For clips of the games click here.
Wednesday, 3 October 2007
Camping
If you are an avid reader of my blog (and you better be!), you will have read about my families camping adventures this summer. This was an important holiday for me on so many different levels.
As a young family, I'm not sure how my parents could have afforded to take us five children on holiday. Maybe they couldn't. Maybe that is why we went camping instead. I can honestly say that I don't care that we didn't go on extravagant holidays to Disneyland. I think what a child can learn exploring the campsite is better than any theme park ride!
Camping taught me a whole host of life skills that I still use today. Knowing not to run from a bear and that the best defense is to curl up in a ball can be very useful. In North America. We don't have bears in the UK! OK, not sure if I use these skills but it was great fun. Ah, peeing outdoors: never know when this might come in handy!
Abigail has a complete fascination with the whole camping concept. Not sure where this grand idea has come from. And one insightful individual did point out to us that it seemed a bit mad to allow the whim of a 3 year old influence you choice of holiday destinations. but she is already talking about our camping adventures next year.
But none of us had a better idea. Besides I have incredibly fond memories of camping as a child.
My first family camping adventures started out in a tent. My dad had this ancient jeep and we would pack everything up and go. At this point I believe there were 4 of us and Tyson was little more than a wee baby. I remember one time in particular lying in our sleeping bags and hearing the trees behind the tent rustling in the dead of night. My mother swears she saw the outline of a moose. I believe her.
This was the time that me and my brothers found this amazing natural slide in a group of rocks. We would sit down on our bottoms and slide down. Every night when we got dressed for bed my mother would find holes in our underpants. It seems that our jeans were sturdy enough to withstand the sliding down the rocks but our underpants we were wearing straight through. Dad told us not to go sliding down the rocks any more.
Seems to me we spent a lot of time fishing. or trying to fish. Mostly my dad was digging hooks out of each other. Hard to fish with small children. I imagine it could be classed an extreme sport. But we did always seem to catch something. Mom was always cooking up trout for dinner over an open fire in a large cast iron skillet. Mmmmmmm, mouth watering just thinking about it.
Shortly after that we got one of those campers that fold down then once you get parked they pop up and the beds slide out from the sides. I don't remember lots of camping in that one. But we must have done it because that's it in the picture. It was hard to pack with not a lot of room and no where to do the cooking. Steph wasn't born yet. I think my mom might have been pregnant with Tyson. You can see my dad leaning against the jeep. That's Shelby hanging out the window and George is sitting on the ground. Obviously that's me standing up near George.
But then we got the Cadillac of all campers. Dad bought us a fifth wheel trailer which is bigger and better than a motor home. This was a house on wheels. Of course, we couldn't go to the out of the way places in the Rocky Mountains like we did with the tent and I never heard a moose behind the trailer but we did take the trailer to the Colorado State Fair. And the bed were comfy.
Mom & Dad's bed was up some stairs at the front. Steph was a baby and we had this little moses basket that mom would just put down next to the bed. The kitchen in this trailer was lovely. But I reckon camping with 5 small children was no picnic. But we did have some fun times.
I hope my children gain the same fond memories of camping that I have.
As a young family, I'm not sure how my parents could have afforded to take us five children on holiday. Maybe they couldn't. Maybe that is why we went camping instead. I can honestly say that I don't care that we didn't go on extravagant holidays to Disneyland. I think what a child can learn exploring the campsite is better than any theme park ride!
Camping taught me a whole host of life skills that I still use today. Knowing not to run from a bear and that the best defense is to curl up in a ball can be very useful. In North America. We don't have bears in the UK! OK, not sure if I use these skills but it was great fun. Ah, peeing outdoors: never know when this might come in handy!
Abigail has a complete fascination with the whole camping concept. Not sure where this grand idea has come from. And one insightful individual did point out to us that it seemed a bit mad to allow the whim of a 3 year old influence you choice of holiday destinations. but she is already talking about our camping adventures next year.
But none of us had a better idea. Besides I have incredibly fond memories of camping as a child.
My first family camping adventures started out in a tent. My dad had this ancient jeep and we would pack everything up and go. At this point I believe there were 4 of us and Tyson was little more than a wee baby. I remember one time in particular lying in our sleeping bags and hearing the trees behind the tent rustling in the dead of night. My mother swears she saw the outline of a moose. I believe her.
This was the time that me and my brothers found this amazing natural slide in a group of rocks. We would sit down on our bottoms and slide down. Every night when we got dressed for bed my mother would find holes in our underpants. It seems that our jeans were sturdy enough to withstand the sliding down the rocks but our underpants we were wearing straight through. Dad told us not to go sliding down the rocks any more.
Seems to me we spent a lot of time fishing. or trying to fish. Mostly my dad was digging hooks out of each other. Hard to fish with small children. I imagine it could be classed an extreme sport. But we did always seem to catch something. Mom was always cooking up trout for dinner over an open fire in a large cast iron skillet. Mmmmmmm, mouth watering just thinking about it.
Shortly after that we got one of those campers that fold down then once you get parked they pop up and the beds slide out from the sides. I don't remember lots of camping in that one. But we must have done it because that's it in the picture. It was hard to pack with not a lot of room and no where to do the cooking. Steph wasn't born yet. I think my mom might have been pregnant with Tyson. You can see my dad leaning against the jeep. That's Shelby hanging out the window and George is sitting on the ground. Obviously that's me standing up near George.But then we got the Cadillac of all campers. Dad bought us a fifth wheel trailer which is bigger and better than a motor home. This was a house on wheels. Of course, we couldn't go to the out of the way places in the Rocky Mountains like we did with the tent and I never heard a moose behind the trailer but we did take the trailer to the Colorado State Fair. And the bed were comfy.
Mom & Dad's bed was up some stairs at the front. Steph was a baby and we had this little moses basket that mom would just put down next to the bed. The kitchen in this trailer was lovely. But I reckon camping with 5 small children was no picnic. But we did have some fun times.
I hope my children gain the same fond memories of camping that I have.
Impetigo
Sebastian got an infection in the cuticle of his middle finger 3 weeks ago. A few days later he was diagnosed with impetigo in the corner of his mouth. After treating both with oral antibiotics and antibacterial cream it all cleared up. I was rather happy that he only missed one day of school due to the weekend.
On Friday Abigail came home from the childminder with what appeared to be impetigo spots on her chest. We treated it with antibacterial cream to no avail. Today we went back to the doctor who confirmed it was impetigo. She is now on oral antibiotics.
When the doctor asked them if they picked their nose they both told her that they did. She told them it was a dirty habit and they shouldn't do it. Seb told her that sometimes that was the only way to really get the deep boogies out of his nose. She didn't have an answer for that one.
I doubt I will have to tell my children to stop picking their nose for a long time.
On Friday Abigail came home from the childminder with what appeared to be impetigo spots on her chest. We treated it with antibacterial cream to no avail. Today we went back to the doctor who confirmed it was impetigo. She is now on oral antibiotics.
When the doctor asked them if they picked their nose they both told her that they did. She told them it was a dirty habit and they shouldn't do it. Seb told her that sometimes that was the only way to really get the deep boogies out of his nose. She didn't have an answer for that one.
I doubt I will have to tell my children to stop picking their nose for a long time.
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
Worst Journey in the World
"And I tell you, if you have the desire for knowledge and the power to give it physical expression, go out and explore. If you are a brave man you will do nothing: if you are fearful you may do much, for none but cowards have need to prove their bravery. Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, 'What is the use?' For we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which does not promise him a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers: that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin's egg."
-Aspley Cherry Garrad
-Aspley Cherry Garrad
Perfect Ending
There are so many baseball references used in the American English vocabulary: 3 strikes you're out, hit it out of the ballpark, tied at the bottom of the ninth with 2 outs and a full count.
Sometimes I accidentally use these when speaking to my English friends and colleagues. They just stare at me blankly. No one here gets baseball. At all!
I am very concerned about my behaviour in the office today. I am so excited. Everyone is going to think I've gone stark raving barking mad! And here's the reason why!
The Rockies, the Sox, and the Cubs have made it to the playoffs. It doesn't get any better than this. Well, until Cleveland and Arizona lose! Then bliss.
Sometimes I accidentally use these when speaking to my English friends and colleagues. They just stare at me blankly. No one here gets baseball. At all!
I am very concerned about my behaviour in the office today. I am so excited. Everyone is going to think I've gone stark raving barking mad! And here's the reason why!
The Rockies, the Sox, and the Cubs have made it to the playoffs. It doesn't get any better than this. Well, until Cleveland and Arizona lose! Then bliss.
Monday, 1 October 2007
Ding Dong
Ding Dong the Mets are dead.
The Mets are dead.
Ding Dong the wicked Mets are dead!
Mwah ah ah!
The Mets are dead.
Ding Dong the wicked Mets are dead!
Mwah ah ah!
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