Goodbye

sorry this pic is not good of either of them, but photos of them "cutting a rug" were on someone else's camera, but I will post them asap

One of my great-aunties died last week after an extremely short bout with lung cancer. Well short in that she only actually knew it was lung cancer the day before she passed away. She thought she just had a bad cough left over from a summer cold and the doctor gave her a puffer. She was too busy trying to sort out my great uncle's medical problems to bother with something as simple as a cough.

She was an awesome fun auntie. Her husband is the youngest of my gran's siblings. He was twelve when my uncle was born. They have always been the fun auntie and uncle. They also always treat everyone the same, it didn't matter what age you were. My great uncle laughs and jokes in the exact same way with the little kids as he does with the adults. My mom remembers my auntie letting her take their one year old son for a walk all by herself when she was eight.

The best memory I have is of dancing with the two of them at their grand-daughter's wedding last summer. They were almost the first ones on the dance floor, and danced more dances than most of the young people. It didn't matter what the music was.

Shelter

I have a place to live in London, ON!

Woo Hoo!

I have a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen. It is just big enough for one person. In fact there is only one chair at the kitchen table. Also, the only window is in the kitchen, but as there isn't really a door between the kitchen and bedroom, it shouldn't be too bad. It is a walkout basement, and the yard backs onto a park with lots of trees, so it is really pretty.

My mother is certain that the small space will ensure that I will spend all my time on campus studying.

It is 15 min walk to the grocery store and mall (dangerous), and 15 min walk to my building on campus. Which is good, since the city bus drivers are currently on strike.

The people whose house it is are very nice and they have an awesome dog, which is a hunting breed.

Which could be a problem for me having Baz the bunny with me. But, we will try it out, and if it becomes too much of a problem, mom and dad will come and get her. I am thinking of keeping her cage in the bathroom for an extra line of defense.

I will only be living there for one semester, so I am sure it will be just fine for 4 months. Then I will either be on co-op workterm, or have made enough friends in the program to find new roommates, or sublet from someone who is on workterm.

All is well.

Torture of the Innocent

Today we took the little monster to the allergist.

He was great in the car and great in the waiting room, well, ok, the stairs up to the offices. Old building, one common waiting room in the old lobby and then a big steep staircase up to the offices (totally not accessible to those with mobility issues, I can only assume there was an elevator somewhere). Anyway, monster spent the waiting time showing all the old people in the waiting room how well he can climb stairs, and then flirting with the receptionists at the top.

Once we got into the office the trouble started.

First of all, he did not like sitting on the crinkly paper on the exam table.

Then taking off his shirt and being attacked by a stethoscope was a crying offense.

Then he had to be held on his mom's lap in preparation for the nurse to come in. You do not hold the monster in captivity. This was also a crying offense.

Then the nurse came in, and not only did he have to be held even tighter by his mom, but I had to hold onto his wee little arm while the nurse dropped the allergens on his arm and pricked them. This was a screaming, twisting, face going purple offense.

And then we had to sit like that, me with a strong grip on his poor wee little arm and hand, his mom with a strong grip on the rest of him and his other hand, for 20 minutes.

20 minutes of tortured, vocal chord ripping screams.

We were able to distract him with some strawberries and blueberries for a few minutes, but then the nurse came in and mopped up some of the blood that had dripped down his elbow and told us we still had 10 minutes left, right when we ran out of blueberries and there were only a few strawberries left. We threw some Cheerios into the mix and bought a little bit more time.

He started screaming full force as soon as he saw the nurse again when she came to clean him off and check the results. He calmed down after that, then screamed again when we changed his diaper.

The thing is, we went there because we thought he was allergic to eggs and dairy. So all they tested for was eggs and dairy. And we found out that he was indeed allergic to eggs and dairy.

We asked the doctor about nuts, and he said, "Oh he shouldn't be eating them at his age anyway, they are a choking hazard."

So we still have no idea if there are any other food allergies lying in wait, which is kinda what we wanted to find out.

Poor little monster went through all of that just to find out what we already knew.

What's in your dinner?

Last night we made tacos.

Generally we have used the packaged seasoning mix, but we have been worried about potential food allergies, and a quick perusal of the ingredients list resulted in numerous red flags. MSG, maltodextrine, and numerous unpronouncable chemicals.

We found a recipe for taco seasoning online here, and cut it down to a pinch of red pepper flakes and no added salt, and added half a tablespoon of cornstarch, and then used it just like the seasoning packet (ie, added the cup of water). We also cooked the ground beef with real onions and garlic and grated zucchini (I add vegetables everywhere!).

It tasted really good, and by controling the amount of salt and eliminating the scary chemicals, it was ten times better for you!

And guess what? The tacos still dripped that radioactive orange goo!

Who knew orange goo was all natural?

Birthday

I just finished up my birthday week!

I got two weekends of celebrations!

We went to Toronto and saw the Dead Sea Scrolls last weekend with my brother.

Then my mom came over the day before my birthday and brought yummy lunch from my favorite place and we went for a long walk with the baby in the sunshine collecting fancy twigs and milkweed pods for Christmas displays.

On my actual birthday, Sesame Street was even celebrating birthdays! and then my cousin and my friend took me out to a fancy dinner. and then laughed at me after my one and only drink.

Then I got a family birthday dinner on Saturday, and a family friends dinner on Sunday night.

Much better than some of the birthdays I have had. And my brother might actually get around to sending me my birthday present sometime before Christmas.

It kind of didn't feel like my birthday, and then sometimes it did. It was weird. Maybe I am just getting older and birthdays don't matter as much. hmm. not sure how I feel about that.

Daily Smile

I have a thing for the show I Didn't Know I was Pregnant.

Almost every episode has a story where a baby was born in a toilet.

There is nothing quite as hilarious as Americans trying to talk politely about having a poop.

And to have it reenacted.

Signs and Portents (of good)

I am occasionally a little superstitious.

When a big change is happening in my life, I look for signs that it is a change in the right direction.

When I got into the History Master's program, everything seemed to be falling into place. I got in to the program I wanted, I got the advisor I wanted, my best friend wanted to move with me, and I was able to borrow furniture from a friend.

But then when I got out there, things started to fall apart. I couldn't find an apartment for us to rent, the History department said there were no grad students around and I should come back during the first week like a normal person, my advisor couldn't meet me because he threw his back out golfing. I started panicking. This was not the way things were supposed to have worked out.

My first year did not go exactly as planned. I had kidney stones on my first day of classes and when I finally attended a class, the students were still grand-standing how much they knew and I started crying in class because I had no idea what they were talking about. I slowly understood that you didn't need to know all that crap, and I had some insightful things to say, but I spent most of my classes feeling overwhelmed and stupid. Which is probably why it took me three more years to write my thesis.

So why am I going back to grad school?

I learned my lesson. (I hope). I learned that fate and luck and divine intervention, if there are such things, can only get you to the door. I have to open the door and do the work to get what I need out of the program. And what I need are the skills for a lasting career.

Besides, I got into the program, and I have already found a good little apartment, walking distance to the school, for a very reasonable rent.

All signs point to yes.