Trophy Husband

7.0 Success

2012-01-28T06:38:00.001-06:00

So, sandwich bread v. 7.0. Success at last.

I baked two near-perfect loaves of bread yesterday. After a week or two of researching on line, asking questions on baking forums and watching YouTube videos, I think I've got it beat.

I think. One success does not a baker make. But I'm encouraged.

Honestly, when I started this game, I had no idea how each little step impacted the final product. But I'm learning.

My first mistake, I discovered, was that I had the bread rising, for the second time, in an environment that was just too hot. The bread rose too quickly and the little yeasties got all hot and bothered and kinda burst, in bubble form, through the top of the loaf. Sometimes it happened during the rise, sometimes during the actual baking. But the result was a flat loaf. Still tasty, mind you, but not attractive.

My second mistake involved the shaping of the loaf, prior to the second rise. Pretty sure I was rolling the dough too thin before rolling it up to make my loaf. The result was similar to my first mistake. But a YouTube video set me straight. I no longer roll the dough out prior to shaping. I punch it down, gather it up and then shape it focussing on the outer surface tension.

For most of you this probably makes no sense, unless you've tried the bread thing.

So I'll leave it at that. And this picture to illustrate:

From left is version 6.o, version 5.0 and, finally, version 7.0

Anyhoo, it's Saturday morning and we've got a trip to the library planned, with a stop at the grocery store.

Holy crap, I sound boring. But that's life.

Have a great day!

P.S. If you really are interested in the bread thing, this is the YouTube video that helped me out. He doesn't punch down his dough, but he's making a different kind of bread.

Emergency!

2012-01-27T06:55:00.002-06:00

Another day, another 5:45 a.m. wake-up call from the minions. Ugh.

It's a little extra special when the first words they speak are: "Daddy, emergency! You gotta come see what the cat did in the closet."

Now, I know my minions and what I can generally expect when they use the term "emergency."

It falls below house fire on the dire spectrum, but above cat puke on floor. It often involves a significant spill, or something cherished by Neomom being broken.

So I don't run up the stairs. I take my time, grab a towel in the kitchen and follow the minions to their bedroom. Inside the closet, somehow, the humidifier on the floor had fallen over. Relax, it was not plugged in. But water was working its way across the floor and under Sonwun's bed. A few quick wipes and the emergency was resolved.

I'm not sure how, or if, the cat was involved. But it's too early to play detective. It spilled, it's cleaned up, time to move on.

So, earache update. Got a call from the school yesterday at 2:20 . . . shortly following afternoon recess. The school secretary told me that Sonwun was in the office "in a lot of pain" and I needed to come and get him.

This is a first for me. And, of course, I imagined my poor son, crying and wailing in the school office, embarrassed in front of his friends. I imagined the look of derision I would get from the secretary for being such a horrible parent.

I grabbed the grape-flavoured ibuprofen off the counter, hoping to ease his pain as soon as humanly possible and checked to make sure I had the prescription for amoxicillin. If only I'd given it to him on Day 1, fought this thing for him instead of letting his little body build antibodies for the future. What kind of parent was I??

At the school, I steeled myself for the horrors that lay ahead. As I got out of the manly minivan in the parking lot, I stopped to listen, to see if his wailing had penetrated the brick walls. Didn't hear anything.

I quick-walk/jogged to the school and opened the outer door and . . .

"Hi Dad!" he chirped. "Let's go!"

Um . . . no tears, no whining, not so much as a pained expression - at least not on HIS face.

Now, I don't doubt there was some discomfort. He'd had medicine at 8:30 a.m. But the timing and the level of discomfort make me wonder. I don't believe for a second that he was "in a lot of pain."

Bottom line is I brought him home, gave him a little more ibuprofen and am still monitoring the situation. He got another dose last night before bed and he slept through the night until this morning's "emergency."

He didn't touch or complain about his ear until I asked if he felt like going to school this morning. Then I got a little show and some obligatory, though unconvincing, whining.

I'm going to err on the side of caution today, and keep him home for a long weekend to fully recover. I do believe it's almost done and I think I've done the right thing as far as the antibiotics go.

Time will tell.

Have a great Friday!

Broccoli Bonanza!

2012-01-26T05:14:00.000-06:00

Now, let's talk about drug-seeking behaviour, shall we?

Sonwun has now reached the age, at 6, that I believe kids should NOT be taking children's medication. I'm not referring here to dosage, but to flavour. Quite simply, his medicine should at the very least, not taste good. I'd even put in a vote for making it taste like old sweat socks.

As I monitor his ear infection, I am judging the progress by how long his medication lasts. On the first night, a 10ml dose of delicious grape-flavour ibuprofen lasted about 3.5 hours. This has now stretched to 7.5 hours. I see this as progress.

After receiving a dose at 1:30 yesterday morning and upon awakening at 6 a.m., he asked for more. He said he preferred the pill, the delicious Orange Burst children's Tylenol. He wasn't complaining about an earache, he just wanted his pill. I put him off and he went about his business.

(A quick aside here: Note that the generic medication I bought, the ibuprofen, is merely called "grape-flavour" while the name brand Tylenol is "Orange Burst." That's why you pay marketing people, and I guess that's one of the reasons it costs more.)

By breakfast he was asking for, and excited about, two pills. His daily vitamin and a delicious Orange Burst Tylenol. Again, no complaining about the ear, just wanting the drugs. I put him off again.

As he made his bed, after breakfast, I could hear him in his bedroom.

"Ouch . . . ouch . . . ouch . . . OUCH!

Now here we must consider quality versus quantity. He "ouched" four times, getting progressively louder, to get my attention. But there wasn't even a hint of whine in his protestations of pain. He was just speaking the words. As plainly as he would say "are we having Cheerios this morning?" Actually, I'd say the Cheerio question probably had a touch more passion to it.

Anyway, I put him off again.

But by 9:30 a.m., I could actually hear the pain returning. I knew that he was actually feeling something beyond mere mild irritation. The whine was back. Time for the medication. Told him this was extra powerful and would last until bedtime. We'll see how that little parental white lie works out.

So, my suggestions for the name brand, as well as the generic children's medicine people.

1. Make some new flavours for these occasions. I suggest Tuna, (Terrific Tuna for the brand name folks), Broccoli (Broccoli Bonanza), Brussel Sprout (Bodacious Brussel Sprout), I Can't Believe it's Not Eggplant! (that one needs no marketing boost, the exclamation point sells it) and the aforementioned Sweat Sock (Sweet Sock). The cool thing about Sweet Sock, is that you can name the dosage with fun stuff like "Short Stroll" for the kiddie version, "Long Hike in the Woods" for the adults and "New York Marathon Strength" with codeine. I KNOW he won't seek them out if there's no pain. If there is pain, he'll have to weigh the benefit of the medicine against it's horrid flavour. Everybody wins.

2. If you must make Grape, Bubblegum and Orange Burst, kindly include in the 20-tablet bottle at least five placebos. It will help if I can give him something with absolutely no medicinal ingredients to help my gauge his progress. I mean, if the placebos work, I know I can send him to school with a couple that he can take if the "pain" becomes too much. Everybody wins.

Your welcome for the suggestions.

Anyhoo, it's now Thursday morning. We made it from 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. on a single dose. This is good news!

And speaking of good news, here is my little hydroponic project, Day 9:

Lemon Basil and Oregano

Italian Basil

Have a great Thursday.

My trip to the ER

2012-01-25T06:58:00.000-06:00

So it's Monday evening. I have just finished providing my family with a delicious supper of leftovers, microwaved to toasty perfection.

We're all just kinda sitting around the living room, talking and waiting for story time and, more importantly, bed time. Sonwun starts whining a little about his ear. Not a lot mind you, but enough to trigger memories of The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

But it's the ear. And we don't mess with ear infections. So I've been told.

And, by the time story time rolls around, the volume, frequency and quality of the whining has grown. By bed time, I realize we're headed for the hospital.

Now, for those of you not living in Portage La Prairie, Manitoba, health care here goes something like this. During office hours, and a little beyond, there is "The Clinic." It's where you take yourself, or your child, when things like this hit during the day. Something that's not serious enough for the ER at the hospital, but serious enough that you can't wait the three months it will take to get an appointment with your "family doctor."

Now, should something like this hit after office hours, your only choice is the ER.

Now personally, I don't like to go to the ER with an ear infection. It's clearly a clinic kinda thing. But I also know that if we let this go, it could get ugly in the wee small hours.

So off to the hospital we go. And we find the ER waiting area to be standing room only. Oh joy. This could take a while. I'm not happy.

It takes about 10 minutes, but Sonwun and I eventually find a couple of chairs. He is trying to keep his whining under control and I'm sitting there, stone-faced, trying to ignore all that's going on around me. But I can't.

The ER is full of the standard personalities. Beside me, an older guy with arthritis, is running down his list of maladies for me. Beside him, a woman in handcuffs and leg cuffs is flanked by two female prison guards.

Beside them is a woman whose young son (about 5 or 6YO) apparently broke his arm in a playground incident. (She's gonna "demand a suspension" from school for the child who apparently pushed her kid down, resulting in the injury.)

Beside them, broken arm boy's grandmother is holding court on wait times and educating anyone who will listen on "how things work around here." (If an ambulance comes in, THEY go to the front of the line, she snorts. Well . . . duh!)

Gramma's got the full attention of young dad and his family, who all came down, apparently, because youngest child cut his finger. Might require a stitch. They are sharing ER Wait Time stories at full volume. They make it sound like they should have their own wing at the new Canadian Human Rights Museum, if it ever opens.

Beside these folks is the gum lady, who is distributing said confection to every child in the room. She's there with what appears to be her elderly father.

To be fair, if I had to describe myself in the same spirit, I would be tired, frustrated-looking dad with young crying child, who has no interest in anyone else's whiny stories.

So, after an hour, we go into the triage area. Sonwun is assessed, given some Advil, and we're sent back to the waiting room.

By this time, young dad (the one with the kid with the finger boo boo) is nodding off while his two kids, ages I'm guessing 5 and 3, are running around the room, making noise, climbing on chairs and generally being annoying while mom issues the obligatory and ignored commands, "sit down" and "stop that." They don't.

Personal pet peeve here. With two active boys, I've spent my fair share of time in ERs, clinics and doctor's offices throughout the province. No matter how squirrely the boys are feeling, they are NOT ALLOWED to stand on the chairs. People have to sit there. I don't care if it's summer and you could eat off the bottom of their shoes. You just don't do it.

When it's the middle of winter, boots are wet and have been running around on the less-than-hygenic ER waiting room floor, it's abso-fucking-lutely anathema.

But these two kids include more than a little chair standing as they stampede about the room. Mom and dad can clearly see what they're doing, but hey, they already have their chairs.

Anyhoo, back to Sonwun. He is now sound asleep beside me. The Advil was apparently enough to beat back the pain in his ear. On one hand, I'm thrilled he's no longer in pain. On the other hand, this probably dials us back on the urgency scale. But I'll take it. He's comfortable, in spite of everything going on around us.

Slowly, but surely, the waiting room starts to thin out. One of the annoying children whines to its daddy for the fourth or fifth time, "When do we get to gooooooo?"

And daddy, in an exaggerated voice designed, I think, to piss off the nurse in charge, "Probably at least TWO MORE HOURS!"

Jackass.

We wait and, about two hours after entering the hospital, find ourselves back in an ER treatment room. It takes another 45 minutes, (Sonwun sleeps) but the doc eventually stops in, confirms an ear infection and does exactly what I'd hoped for. He tells me it will most likely clear up in a day or two AND writes a prescription for antibiotics, just in case it does not. This saves me a trip back in a day or two and I really do appreciate it.

In all, it took three hours. And I think that's not too bad. In this fast-food world we've cultivated, everyone expects instant gratification wherever we go. But life ain't like that. Sometimes you just have to sit and wait your turn.

And yeah, when the ambulance came in from a car accident, it took first priority. I heard one of the medical people say "This one's going straight to surgery." So I'm guessing it was a little more dire than an earache.

If, heaven forbid, my boys and I are involved in a serious car accident and are in need of quick medical attention, I don't expect to sit in a waiting room for three hours for treatment, behind a whiny kid with a little cut on his finger, another with a minor ear infection, and a third with a broken arm that has already been assessed and splinted at triage.

And I don't expect I'll have to.

The system ain't perfect - no system is - but it's what we've got, it's universal and it's free. And in exchange for that, I'm not too worried about spending a few hours, now and then, waiting to access it.

Happy Hump Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

I Need a Bench Rest (I think)

2012-01-24T05:17:00.000-06:00

Sweet freakin' relief.

I finally got iChat working between my computer and my mother's new computer. I can now chat with my mom on line and she can see her grandchildren through video chat. And, more importantly, I can take over her computer when I need to fix something, or show her how to do something, or do something for her.

Sorry, but this was driving me nuts. I didn't realize how difficult it might be for two people who speak the same language, to speak the same language. But I'm learning, more and more, that for every new hobby, task or adventure, there is another English language.

While I'm looking at a very similar computer screen as my mother, she is trying to describe what she sees. I'm trying to understand. I'm giving commands in a language she is not entirely familiar with, and she's trying to understand. Throw in a password typed incorrectly, or an error in the email account and we're both looking for a bottle.

The same applies to my new bread baking hobby. Got an email from a fellow bread enthusiast from that website I've previously mentioned, The Fresh Loaf. I had asked a question about what "proofing" means exactly. I know it has something to do with the bread rising, but I wasn't sure if it meant the first rise, the second rise, or another rise I didn't know about.

And excerpt from that email:

"Then there is autolyse, sponge, soaker, poolish, biga, retard/retarded/cold

retard, bench rest, preferment, levain/sourdough, chef/motherdough, old

dough/altus."

I'm not sure, but I think she's coming on to me.

But you see what I mean? I know that a sponge soaks up water and you wash the floor with it. I know a soaker is something I used to get on the way to school when I stepped in the creek. I'm sure that's not what my new friend is talking about. I have a new language to learn. No idea what poolish means, yet.

But one step at a time. For now, I'm celebrating my major computer victory. I can now explain myself while showing my mom exactly what I'm talking about. And I can see exactly what she's looking at. This is awesome!

I just wish that there was a similar remote bread-baking system, where one of my more knowledgeable new friends could look over my shoulder, knead the bread a little more if necessary, toss in a little extra flour when needed and make sure my poolish has the appropriate sponge soaker for the bench rest. If not, I guess I'll just make it biga.

So much to learn.

Anyhoo, it's early in the a.m. and I've had another relatively sleepless night, thanks to something that has invaded Sonwun's ear. Spent three hours at the hospital last night and woke up every four hours since for medication. Maybe I'll tell you all about that one tomorrow.

As for today, Neomom's headed for Thompson and I don't see Sonwun heading for school. Gonna be a long one.

Have a great Tuesday. And remember, the yeasts are most active during the bulk rise. Keep your mouse on the pad.

Happy Monday

2012-01-23T06:35:00.000-06:00

So, five days down in my little hydroponic experiment and I have three little plants peeking through. Thyme was first out of the gate, and now the Italian basil and lemon basil have made an appearance. If the literature is correct, I'll be enjoying my first harvest in a week or two. Yay! (You can click on the little pictures to see them full size).

In other news, a fairly sleepless night has resulted in a few new theories for bread baking. My brain tends to sort out the day's problems over night. When the problems are bugging the crap out of me, my brain often wakes me up to check a few of its theories before allowing me back to sleep.

For my next bread version, 7.0, I will allow more time for the dough to rise in a less warm environment. I will also be shaping the loaves in a slightly different way. And that, my brain told me at 2:13 a.m., should result in an unfallen loaf. Here's hoping.

So, the week ahead . . .

Neomom's been called to testify at a trial in Thompson. She had a minor role in this one, but is apparently needed. She leaves tomorrow and will, hopefully, be back on Wednesday or Thursday. The good news is that she gets to see our best friends in Thompson, Cathy and Dave. The kids call them Grampa and Nana and they were the best part of our time in Thompson. I'm a little jealous.

Sonwun's back to school today, Sontoo and I have a little shopping to do and then it's back to work on Sonwun's new bedroom.

Have a great Monday!

Frustration

2012-01-22T21:05:00.003-06:00

I am frustrated today. My bread is not working as well as I'd like and my mother's new iMac is not cooperating with me.

First the bread. For some reason, my results have gone downhill. My loaves are sagging during baking. And it's driving me nuts. For help, I've joined the The Fresh Loaf bread baking forum. I've found a whole crapload of information and am still wading through it. Thought I'd solved the sinking problem this morning, but the bread I baked sagged, yet again. Erg!

The good folks at The Fresh Loaf were, however, able to solve another one of my little problems. My bread was sticking to the bread pan, in spite of my liberal greasing of said pan. I tried Crisco, I tried canola oil and I tried margarine. But the sticking was getting worse and the last time out I completely ruined one loaf while trying to remove it from the pan.

So I pass on this little nugget. One part flour, one part oil, one part Crisco. Mix well. Apply to pan with pastry brush. Worked like a charm. The somewhat flattened loaves slipped out like butta.

Rejoice in the small victories.

Second, my mom purchased the latest iMac, as I was told it would be easy to remotely access her computer, from mine, and be able to help with any problems. I would be able to do this through a program called iChat. Problem is, we can't seem to get iChat working properly, which means I can't access her computer to solve the problem. This is driving me crazy. She is, in theory, as I write, on the phone with Apple tech support trying to resolve this issue.

Mom lives back in Ontario, and I'm here in Manitoba, so it's not like I can just drop in and deal with tech support on her behalf. This is frustrating the crap out of me.

Well, to make a long annoying story short, (and to meet my commitment to blog today), I'll tell you that between my brother in Ontario, the folks at Cogeco.ca, the folks at Apple Canada, my mother and myself, we've solved many of the problems. Lots of phone calls, lots of on-line hunting, one step at a time and we're getting there.

Anyway, I'm frustrated and tired. I'm going to bed.

Good night.

A crappy one . . .

2012-01-21T17:38:00.002-06:00

Oh crap. Just realize it's gettin' near the end of the day and I have not blogged.

Okay, probably gonna be short. We had to run to the "big city" today to do a little shopping at Cosco, Sears and a few other places we don't have access to here in Portage. So we were out early and I didn't blog. Bad, bad blogger.

I'd love to tell you about our little shopping trip, but I'd bore you stupid. So I won't.

And, to be honest, there ain't much else on my mind right now. So I'll update some previous stuff. First off, my little hydroponics experiment. Proud to say that through my hard work, the thyme has come. And by hard work, I mean filling the thing with water, dumping in a nutrient pack and plugging the thing in. And leaving it alone.

Let's see, what else. Nothing comes to mind. I said I'd blog for 90 days straight. Didn't say they'd be brilliant each and every day. So this, my friends, is one of the short and crappy ones. Enjoy! Oh, and this ends the third straight week of blogging in 2012. Yay me.

Happy Saturday, see you tomorrow.

Short one

2012-01-20T06:52:00.000-06:00

Gonna be a short one this morning, I think.

Neomom and I hired a babysitter last night to celebrate the end of a six-day shift, to celebrate Thursday and to celebrate, um, hiring a babysitter.

Problem is, we don't get out much and when we do we tend to go a little overboard. Such was the case last night. Ended up leaving the truck at the bar.

Yesterday we were talking about our "life before." She went rock climbing, I went golfing, we went camping, fishing, kayaking. Haven't done a whole lot of that stuff since the kids arrived. But it'll be back, I keep telling myself.

Anyhoo, while it's nice to leave the kids at home once in a while, I still wouldn't trade 'em . . . most days.

Sontoo, who's almost four now, reminded me why in the middle of the night. I wasn't sleeping well, so I was sitting in the rec room reading a book. At 4 a.m., I heard his little feet hit the floor upstairs. Unusual. He tends to sleep in until at least 5:30.

I reached over and turned off the lamp, just in case he decided to make his way downstairs. This usually works. He'll see that no one's up and then just head back to bed.

But this morning, he came down the stairs, in the pitch dark, and made his way to where he often finds me. He stopped just before entering the rec room . . . "Dad?"

His sweet little sleepy voice melted my resolve.

"Come here buddy."

Dragging his favourite teddy bear, Owen, he crawled up on the couch, snuggled under my blanket and under my arm. And then he fell asleep again.

I love that. Wouldn't trade it for a round of 18 at Glenn Abby or a fly-in fishing trip to Lake of the Woods. It's simply one of the best things in my world.

Have a great Friday, and a great weekend.

That reminds me . . .

2012-01-19T07:53:00.000-06:00

So, my little herb garden hydroponic project reminded me of a news story this week that I meant to comment on.

Seems members of Canada's Liberal party are thinking about growing a little herb themselves. At least that's what these ageing hipsters would have you believe. Not buying it.

At its convention last weekend, the party announced it was ready to party, voting to approve a resolution calling for the legalization of marijuana. Not merely the decriminalization (which would be the difference between a criminal charge and a speeding ticket) but the outright legalization (not even a speeding ticket).

I know, after the pounding the Liberals took in the last election, they're desperately seeking to regain some power, some press, some votes. But to go after the Marijuana Party? Steal their votes? Man, that's cold, dude. And more than a little desperate.

"Let's face up to it Canada," Liberal Leader hopeful Bob Rae said, "the war on drugs has been a complete bust."

Wow. Really? If so, I would contend that the reason for this is Canada's anemic legal system. For the record, I refuse to call it the "Justice System" anymore. Having worked in newspapers for 10 years, and having been married to a cop for almost another 10, I just can't equate the word "justice" with our system. Sorry.

But back to big Bob. Pretty sweeping statement for a guy who just wants to legalize pot. Weed is just a bar room fist fight in the "war on drugs." There are a few more drugs out there, Bob, that constitute the heavy weaponry and battles of "the war." I mean, if that's part of the argument, are we talking about legalizing it all? If the "war on drugs has been a complete bust," then we just throw down our arms and surrender it all?

Now, having said that, I can see a few of the arguments for the legalization of pot. In the mind-altering substance spectrum, it's pretty close to the bottom of the scale. And, I would argue, it's a lot less dangerous than booze. Alcohol makes people stupid (as does pot), but it also makes a lot of people violent. Pot, as a rule, does not.

Seriously, if booze was illegal, or, more to the point, non-existent tomorrow, police would not be half as busy as they are today. Don't have stats in front of me (mostly cause I don't buy most stats), but experience tells me that a large percentage of cop calls involve alcohol. Spousal abuse, DUI, car accidents, snowmobile accidents, boating accidents, bar fights, house fights, party fights . . . you get the picture.

Okay, back on topic. There is so much to think about here. It's just not a simple solution, either way.

The argument is made, by some, that by legalizing and regulating marijuana, we'll be taking profits from the "criminals" who produce and sell the stuff. (And giving the profits to the criminals in Ottawa . . . ha ha) Maybe. But I don't think the marijuana growers and dealers are gonna just throw their hands in the air and start looking for jobs as Walmart greeters. Although I do expect a lot of job openings in Doritos factories and pizza joints. And that's your stock tip for the day as well, look for publicly-traded pizza companies and invest heavily. This blog just keeps on giving!

Oh, but back to drug dealers seeing the light and getting jobs flipping burgers. Doesn't make sense. The focus will just shift to the next illegal and, more importantly, profitable drug of choice. Unless, of course, Bob is serious about the war being a "complete" loss and the Liberals will make cocaine, ecstasy and heroin legal as well. Didn't hear anything like that coming out of the convention.

But this leads to another question. The line was drawn at marijuana. So what happens if we move the line? What's next on the mind-altering scale, and how long before we move the line again. I don't have an answer to that, but it's a question. Is hash next? Then what?

I'll be honest. I don't think we have to worry about it just yet. I seriously doubt we'll see this plank in the Liberal platform come election time. It looks to me like a stunt designed to draw a little attention, some TV time, a little ink in the big papers, to the convention and the Liberal Party. And hey, mission accomplished. People noticed the Liberals for the first time since the last election. Even I'm talking about them.

But for now, I'll put plans for my brownie factory on the back burner and stick to growing basil and oregano in my little hydroponic plant.

Have a great Thursday, dude.

Hydroponics

2012-01-18T08:30:00.000-06:00

So, I've entered the fun and exciting world of hydroponics.

And no, not that kind.

Herbs. And no, not that kind.

Last summer, on one of those rare Saturdays when Neomom was off, we loaded the kids in the manly mini-van and headed out for a day of garage saling. Well, a morning anyway. It's all the kids would give us before the mileage-to-whine ratio exceeded our limit.

It was a beautiful sunny day and it seemed that everyone who was planning a summer garage sale chose this particular weekend. Entire neighbourhoods were doing it together. You could park in one spot and hit eight or nine sales before returning. Cool!

Anyhoo, at one of these sales, I spotted two AeroGarden hydroponic units. They're little commercial jobbies, available at Canadian Tire and places like that. I'd looked at them over the previous winter as a possible source of fresh herbs during the colder months. But they were more than $100, so I decided against.

I asked the lady how much she was selling these things for, cause they looked brand new. "

Oh, I don't know, she said. "How does $10 sound?"

"Each?" I asked.

"For both."

"SOLD!"

When I got home I looked this particular model, the SpaceSaver 6, up on line to see what they retailed for: $150 each.

So I got a good deal.

They sat for the summer and yesterday, after a little prodding from Neomom, I looked for the little seed pods while at Canadian Tire. Bought the Gourmet Herb pack and the Cherry Tomato Pack. Should have checked on line before I went. While the herb pack gets very good reviews, the tomato pack, not so much.

So I planted the herb pack yesterday in one of the units and am putting the tomato pack on hold until we get closer to spring. That way I can get them started hydroponically and then transplant to the garden.

For the record, I planted dill, thyme, oregano, mint and two kinds of basil. Looking forward to an improved spaghetti sauce in a few weeks.

Anyway, that's all I'm trying to think about this morning. But the minions are driving me stark raving freaking bonkers (as nice as I can put it). When Neomom works night shift, and is trying to sleep during the day, it seems these two just can not possibly speak in normal voices. Every fargin' word must be screamed, while they run, jump and stomp all over the blessed house. SHUT UP!!!

Maybe I did plant the wrong herbs.

Happy Hump Day.

I win!

2012-01-17T06:42:00.000-06:00

The goal is to win. Beyond that, there isn't much to the brotherly battle that has invaded my home.

It's a game the boys play a thousand times a day. From the moment they crawl out of bed, I can hear the game commence.

"I win!" one will shout. Some mumbling, some running, "I win."

It used to be a simple game. One of the boys would recognize a situation in which he had an extreme advantage, announce the game and, seconds later, announce his victory. "I win."

For example, at lunchtime, Sonwun would recognize the fact the he had only one bite of his PBJ left. He sees Sontoo has half a sandwich in front of him. He says "I'm gonna win lunch," gobbles the last of his sandwich and makes the all important declaration . . . say it with me, "I win!"

This, of course, followed Sontoo's recognition of his five-stride lead toward the lunch table. At which time he declared his impending victory in the race to his chair. "I win."

I'll be honest. This game gets a little old in a hurry. Everything is a race. And I do mean everything. Putting on coats, getting in the van, opening a door, closing a door, hugging mom, petting the cat, feeding the dog, changing into pyjamas . . . the list goes on.

And I, unwittingly, seem to have changed the rules a few days ago. It was at lunch, I think, after about 75 rounds of the game in the morning.

"Everything is not a competition," I told them. "Breakfast? It's not a competition. Peeing? It's not a competition. Sitting? It's not a competition."

I did not kill the game, I merely created an "out." When Sonwun declares his victory now, Sontoo immediately throws a flag. "It's not a competition," he says.

"You only say that when you lose," Sonwun counters.

Minutes later, Sontoo wins the race to jump into a laundry basket. "I win."

"It's not a competition," Sonwun argues.

"You say that because you lost."

And on it goes.

So this morning, as I listened from my cozy, comfortable, early-morning, book-reading, coffee-drinking couch, I heard the latest evolution of "the game," about one second after I heard the first pair of little feet hit the floor upstairs.

"First one out of the room wins, IT'S A COMPETITION."

Panicked scrambling of two sets of little feet above my head.

"I win."

See what Sonwun's done here? He eliminated the possibility of a penalty with an additional declaration. Sontoo has no recourse but to lose and suck it up. And wait for his turn.

I have two boys. I kind of expected this, but I thought it would hit a little later. I wasn't prepared for every movement, from morning to night, to be competitive. But it is.

For now, it's feeding the dog, finding a marble, putting on socks . . . It's not important what it is. What is important is winning.

Down the road, it will be board games, street hockey and bicycle races. Beyond, it will be jobs, girls, cars . . . life. It's competitive whether you like it or not.

And like everything else, my job, I guess, is not eliminating the competitive spirit, but tempering it. Keeping it alive, keeping it positive and ensuring that lessons are learned in winning and in losing.

First one done his blog this morning wins! It's a competition! I win!

Have a great Tuesday.

My little secret . . .

2012-01-16T07:05:00.000-06:00

Another Monday morning. Day 16 of my 90 Blogs in 90 Days.

So I guess a follow-up is first on the agenda.

Idris Elba won a Golden Globe last night. Celebrate as you see fit. And check out Luther. Great show.

Personally, I made it through about two hours of the show before nodding off.

But enough about that.

This morning I indulged in one of my secret joys. At about 4:30 a.m., with the Whos still a-bed, all the Who's still asnooze, I snuck out of the house, and I loaded my sled.

Okay, it wasn't a sled. It was the manly mini-van. But that doesn't rhyme.

As I crept out of the garage and onto the street, the Northern Lights were decorating the sky. Haven't seen them since Thompson, more than a year ago. It was beautiful, although slightly muted by the streetlights.

I rolled down the road a few hundred feet before turning on my lights. Must be discreet, quiet. She'd be waiting a mere 5 kilometres away. She'd offer warmth on this cold, icy morning.

I'd had a spotty sleep. Pretty sure I got the requisite six hours, but it was broken. A few hours in bed, an hour reading, a couple of hours on the couch . . . she'd wake me up. Make it seem like I'd slept for a solid 8 hours. Make me feel alive again. She has that gift.

I can't do this very often. The stars must align, just so. Neomom must be on dayshift. So that I won't get caught skulking the streets as she patrols, looking for skulkers. I can't go any later than 4:30 a.m. The boys can wake up as early as 5 a.m. I must not get caught leaving, or returning.

The streets were empty as I cruised along Crescent Road, beside the lake. Not a soul around. No one to witness my secret journey.

I drove up to the checkpoint and rolled down my window.

"Good Morning," she said. "How can I help you?"

I smiled. Warmth and joy was only 20 feet away.

"Extra large, two creams," I answered.

With my Timmy's in hand, I drove back along the lake, all by myself, no kids, no complaining, all the way home. The Northern Lights were brighter, the air a little less crisp as I snuck the manly mini-van back into the garage.

Nice way to start a week. Have a great Monday!

Post 15

2012-01-15T12:39:00.000-06:00

I don't feel like blogging today.

Not sure why. Just tired, nothing exciting's happening, nothing's really pissing me off - any more than usual. I got a lot done yesterday, and am just not feeling motivated today. I managed to get the kitchen cleaned up, prepped the new drywall for taping and got the garage back to two-car status. But I'm done. Just wanna sit back, grab a beer and watch football, or nap.

So, a topic. Let's check the news. Okay, nothing there. Someone's suing the government, a teenager crashed his parent's Mercedes into a lake . . . blah, blah, blah.

Okay, after floating around in cyberspace a while, I see the Golden Globes are tonight. Generally not a big fan of these shows. If the host is funny, or interesting, I'll catch the opening monologue at least. If it's really good, I'll watch a while longer. But I just can't stomach all the "thanking" speeches. They come across as phoney as a YouTube apology from a Vancouver rioter.

But tonight, I guess I'll watch a little. Ricky Gervais is hosting. I can't say I find him funny. But it's interesting, for lack of a better word, to watch the discomfort he creates among the acting elite. The audience shots at most of these events show the celebs busting a gut at the softball jokes lobbed their way. With Gervais, who fires fastballs on the inside of the plate, you can actually see the confusion on some of the actors' faces as they laugh a little, glancing around at the same time to make sure it's okay to be laughing while a compatriot is being skewered.

Guess it's kinda like rubber-necking an accident on the highway. You don't want to look, but you just gotta.

If I can stay awake, I also want to see if British actor Idris Elba wins Best Actor in a Mini-Series Made for Television. He plays the lead character on a BBC cop show entitled Luther. Neomom and I stumbled across Season 1 of this show while searching around on Netflix. We both love it and anxiously await Season 2. If you have Netflix, check it out. Elba (playing the lead cop) is awesome and his psychotic female lead is equally so. Disappointed she didn't get a nomination here.

Anyhoo, don't know much about the Golden Globes beyond this. I honestly don't even recognize the names of 90 per cent of the movies nominated. Gotta get out more, I guess.

That's all I got today. Have a great Sunday. I'm going to watch football.

Ouch

2012-01-14T07:12:00.000-06:00

Ooooohhhhh.

So sore this morning. Getting' older sucks.

Spent much of yesterday trying to get the drywall done in a small part of Sonwun's soon-to-be-new bedroom. One piece in particular, about a half sheet on the ceiling, gave me trouble. It was up and down about five times before I finally got it to fit correctly. Then holding it in place with one hand and trying to get it screwed down with the other . . . I used muscles that apparently haven't seen action in a while.

Back in the day . . . sit down and listen kiddies, an old person is speaking . . . I was able to spend an entire day hanging drywall and still come home and play baseball at night, followed by a few beers at the pub. I would awake the following morning feeling fine, refreshed and ready for another day of hard work.

I guess the definition of hard work, in my life anyway, has shifted slightly. Such is the life of a stay-at-home dad. I mean, by the current definition, I still have a big day ahead. I need to make banana bread, I need to make regular bread. I need to clean up the giant coffee spill in the front hallway, I need to keep the minions from fighting and I need to hang a couple more pieces of drywall and maybe start taping said drywall. There's also laundry, if I'm feelin' crazy.

But right now, I need to make pancakes. The minions are hungry and are not shy about telling me so.

Have a great Saturday.

Life Ain't Fair

2012-01-13T07:12:00.001-06:00

Well, apparently the whole disparage-the-Mom thing is a universal hot button.

Spent a little too much time yesterday fielding calls from India. Not angry calls, per se, but certainly more than the average number. Whoever it was I pissed off the day before apparently has the power to put my phone number on the top of the list - repeatedly. Lucky me.

I actually considered, briefly, changing my phone number.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, check yesterday's post. Pretty self-explanatory.

And while we're on the topic of yesterday's post, I feel I should apologize. The language was a little too colourful and my conversation with "Bill" was really outside of my character. But I was pissed off. He interrupted my baking. That's my only explanation.

Anyhoo, I don't recommend following my lead. Don't antagonize, don't suggest their moms are involved in compromising positions. Just creates more trouble. Hang up on them, leave it at that.

You should also know that, if you live in Manitoba anyway, it's impossible to block their calls. Something about them using the internet to make calls, which can not be blocked by Manitoba Telephone Service. Who knew?

A friendly and helpful MTS representative told me yesterday that my only option, if I wanted to make the calls stop, was to change my phone number and change it to an unlisted one.

Gotta say it ticks me off, again, that criminals in another country, so far away, can do this crap with impunity. I mean, they are obviously screwing over enough people, who don't know any better, to make their little game profitable. It just ain't right.

But life ain't fair, so I've been told.

Anyway, it's Friday (the 13th). Have a great day.

Don't Fall for This . . .

2012-01-12T07:28:00.002-06:00

WARNING: This one contains some colourful language. If this offends you, read something else. You've been warned.

Okay, so got a call from one of those lovely call centres in India yesterday. They piss me off.

Don't know if you've received this one or not, but the caller, in a thick East Indian accent, opens with something like, "Hi Mr. Robinson, my name is Bill."

Um, yeah, right. And my name is Rajish. Go ahead Bill.

"Bill" then explains that he is from the National Internet Security Task Force, or something equally ridiculous, and then tells me that they've been receiving messages from my computer.

"Is that right Bill? Fascinating."

And, according to Bill, I've got a virus and he can help me.

Now I've been receiving these calls for more than a year. Usually at least once a week. Sometimes, when I'm really bored, I'll take up an hour of his time, asking lots of questions about the security of my computer, thanking him for saving me from this horrible virus and making idle conversation about his wife and kids. The conversation usually ends when I explain that I don't know how to use a computer.

Sometimes, when I don't have time to play, I'll just hang up. Sometimes, when they call during nap time, I'll tell them to fuck off and then hang up.

Sometimes, I'll tell him I'm busy and ask if I can put him on hold. I'll then put the receiver down in front of my iPod player and leave it there for a good hour or so.

Now I've looked this scam up on the Internet. Not really all that sophisticated. The victim is directed to a web site, where they are asked to download a program that will help "Bill" fix this virus issue. And the program is basically one that gives "Bill" complete remote access your computer - your passwords, banking info, etc, etc.

So these fuckers are criminals. Plain and simple. And, apparently, are successful enough to keep going.

Anyhoo, got a call yesterday from my friend "Bill." He called while I was baking bread, and I was a little pissed 'cause the dough wasn't rising properly. Bad time to call.

I told "Bill" to leave me the hell alone, forget my fucking phone number and fuck off.

And yesterday, for the first time, I seemed to have touched a nerve at the old Calcutta Call Centre. Fifteen seconds after I hung up, I got another call. Same routine, same response.

The next call took a little longer, maybe 30 seconds. I suspect the conversation in Calcutta went something like . . .

"Bill": "Hey, this guy just swore at me, I think. Does anyone here know how to swear in English?"

"Trevor": "Me!"

So the next guy calls, and he wastes no time:

Him: "You a motherfucker. You a mother fucker.

Me: "Your mother never complained."

Him: "You go fuck your dog."

Me: "What will your mom do without me?"

Well, things just kinda went down hill from there. Seems they forgot about helping me with this computer virus.

** Okay, 7:18 a.m. and I just got the first call of the day from them. I expected as much. Actually I expected a call at 2 a.m. Told them they had the wrong number, there was no Mr. Robinson here. Didn't seem to matter. They still wanted to help me with my computer problem. "Mr. Robinson's computer problem?" I asked. He got confused. And then I hung up.**

Anyhoo, I've got a call in to MTS (Manitoba Telephone Service) to see about having this number blocked. I expect to hear from them today.

So, take this as a warning. Don't fall for this crap. They've got your name and telephone number, and that's it. Play with them if you like, hanging up on them is probably best. Me? I'm just kinda thinking about what can piss them off even more next time. They've pissed me off enough. I just want to return the favour.

Have yourselves a great Thursday. I expect I'll be spending my time fielding a few calls from India.

More Renovation . . .

2012-01-11T06:35:00.001-06:00

So apparently Sonwun needs his own bedroom. **sigh**

Okay, let's be fair. He doesn't NEED one. He would like one. And, considering there is one available, with only minor renovation required, it looks like he'll get it.

And when I say only minor renovation required, I mean we've already done some major renovation and there's only a small part left. It used to be the guest room. But it's not exactly like we're running a B&B here. If we get a guest or two a year, it's a big year.

But Sonwun has reached the stage in his life where he wants to express some more individuality. He wants his room to be HIS room, without any input, mess or toys from Sontoo. He wants Batman on the wall, Batman on his bedspread and his precious Lego creations displayed for all to appreciate.

I have spared him the speech about growing up with two brothers in my bedroom. About having to sleep in the same bed with one or the other for periods of my young life. Times are different. Fewer children, more bedrooms.

I worry a little about Sontoo. To this point, he's had his older brother for night time security. Sonwun's bed is closer to the closet, so Sontoo has ample warning when the monsters come out. He doesn't have to be faster than the monsters, just faster than Sonwun.

The big question is what to do with that freakin' futon we bought two houses ago. It just doesn't fit anywhere in this house and was stored in the guest room. It never worked properly and got used only when my snoring became too much for Neomom to sleep through - or vice versa. I just have no idea where to put it.

So, that's my plan for today. Pick up a little drywall, remove a few 2X4s, tape, mud. Oh, and bake bread. We're running low and I'm proud to say that we have not purchased a loaf in 2012. I need to keep that record alive.

And while I'm on the subject, Bread Baking Tip of the Day:

Don't listen to those stupid recipe instructions about placing a dish towel over the loaf pans while the bread rises. Last time, my bread rose beautifully, but collapsed catastrophically, when I removed the towel, which was stuck to the top of the loaves. Made me very sad.

Today, I'll try using Saran Wrap, spritzed with some cooking spray, to cover my rising loaves. Will let you know how it goes.

Anyhoo, things to do.

Have a great Hump Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

Flounce

2012-01-10T16:26:00.000-06:00

Here it is, Day 10 of the new year and again I'm blocked. And there is now no question in my mind that the schedule is to blame.

I wanted to sit down this morning and write away. But other things (I'm looking at you Sonwun and Sontoo) required my attention. Could not focus. And then I had the trim to finish downstairs, clean-up the mess I made while trimming downstairs and then Neomom (she's off for a few days) wanted to take Sontoo skating at the local outdoor rink.

To make a boring story a lot shorter, here I am at 4:30 p.m., racking my brain and trying to meet my commitment for 90 days of blogging.

And you know what keeps coming up in my head? The word "flounce."

I blame the book I'm reading, or maybe it was the last one. The author used the word . . .

Sontoo: Dada, dada, dada, I'm going downstairs, don't turn my game off.

Me: Mmhmm

Sontoo, halfway down the stairs: Dada, dada, dada, are you going to turn my game off?

Me: No.

Sontoo: Dada, dada, dada. DADA! Why aren't you going to turn my game off.

Me: Grrrrrrrrr.)

And that's why I don't like writing with the minions scampering about. Just can't concentrate.

Where was I . . . oh yeah, flounce.

I like the word, but I don't like the fact that I can't get it out of my head. So let's just fully explore it.

It's a good word. It tells a story, provides a visual - at least for me.

And while it's been rolling around inside my head, I've come to a few conclusions. Women are more likely to flounce the men. I just don't see a man flouncing. Maybe that makes me sexist. Pretty sure I never flounced.

And the woman who flounces, can not possibly do that before showering. Flouncing, in my mind, involves are certain amount of hair movement. You can't flounce with flat, greasy hair. The hair must be fairly poofy, at least shoulder length and more often blond. A woman with short, straight, dark hair would find it difficult to flounce.

I'm not 100 per cent certain, but I'm gonna guess the word is some hybrid of flirt and pout and maybe bounce. There's playfulness, there's . . .

Now, Sonwun is whining that he's hungry, moaning, carrying on like we haven't fed him for a week. Supper's still an hour away. I don't think he realizes just how difficult it is to fully explore the word "flounce" when someone's whining and moaning. They just are anti-flounce emotions and, therefore, make my writing difficult.

No consideration. Where was I?

Oh right, the dictionary definition. And this is interesting (just looked it up).

Flounce (verb): go or move in an exaggeratedly impatient or angry manner: he stood up in a fury and flounced out.

You see, I may have it wrong. The dictionary folks used the male pronoun. Apparently guys can legally flounce. And he's angry, furious in fact. Hmm. It seemed like such a playful word.

Second definition:

Flounce (verb): • move with exaggerated motions: she flounced around, playing the tart and flirting.

See? That's more what I see in my head. But now "playing the tart" is gonna be stuck in my head for a day or two. That's just too visual to pass up.

Anyway, that's all I've got for today. Once again hoping to get back on track tomorrow, or you may just get a full exploration of playing the tart.

Your assignment for tomorrow is to work the word "flounce" into at least one conversation. If you can pull it off, please send me a note. Dying to hear how it went.

Enjoy the rest of Tuesday.

Sorry

2012-01-09T07:18:00.000-06:00

Gonna be a short one this morning, I think.

Sonwun heads back to school this morning. Back to the routine.

With a little more than two weeks off for Christmas, we've all become a little accustomed to a more relaxed way of doing things. So this morning it's a bit of a scramble to get lunches made, breakfast consumed, coats, hats and mittens rediscovered.

Have to admit, I backed off on the rules, maybe a little too much, over the break. Beds weren't made in the morning, the dog wasn't fed by Sonwun and the Wii got more than a little too much exercise. Back to crackin' the proverbial whip. And not just with the kids.

I'm proud to say I've kept my promise to blog daily now for two whole weeks. No surprise, I guess, that it coincides with Sonwun's Christmas break. I've had a little more time each morning to sit, ponder, blather. All good.

I find my best writing time is about an hour after my first coffee, when the caffeine's fully on board, I'm awake and sort of thinking.

This time has now diminished. I have to concern myself with lunch-making, child-dressing (they do it on their own after five or six reminders) and breakfasting on schedule. Blogging, therefore, falls to a back burner.

And that, my friends, is why today's post is so damn boring.

Sorry about that, will work to improve under the new schedule.

Have a great Monday.

Where Do They Come Up With This Stuff?

2012-01-08T06:21:00.004-06:00

**Disclaimer**

If you're not a parent of young children, if you've never seen Treehouse, just skip this one. If not, read on.

" . . . and then we would steal Caillou's cake. (Much laughter.)

Sometimes, when I'm not really paying attention, these little phrases from the minions slip past my subconscious. My well-honed practice of blocking of all things Treehouse, and subsequent commentary, fails me. Last night was one of those nights.

It surprised me to hear my innocent (ha!) three-year-old hatching a cake-theft plot against a four-year-old cartoon character on television.

"I wanna punch him in the face and steal his cake," Sonwun responds, to more evil laughter.

Now they've got my full attention. What, exactly, did Caillou do to warrant such action? Where do they come up with this stuff? And how good is that cake?

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not a Caillou fan. The bald little brat whines way too much and, I'm afraid, I've heard the whiny echoes in Sontoo's voice as he protests anything from taking a nap to going to the library. It seems he does it out of habit anymore. Any suggestion I put forth these days is met immediately by "but I don't waaaanna (fill in the blank)."

It's kinda like Caillou's catch phrase. And I don't like it.

Anyhoo, last night, after hearing my boys' plans for theft and assault, I decided to reacquaint myself with Caillou, just to see what had inspired this cake-theft plot.

The cake episode had apparently ended, but thanks to the miracle of Netflix, a new episode was beginning. And in this episode, it was bath night at Caillou's house.

"I don't waaaanna take a bath," Caillou told his way-to-accommodating parents, before running away and hiding.

So, to make a long, insipid story short, Caillou's stupid parents do their stupid best to make bath time "fun." They supply bubble bath (fair enough) and then they allow the little brat to start splashing around in the tub and, in the end, everyone ends up soaking wet.

Now, it's not shown, but experience tells me if the parents are soaking wet, there is serious water damage in the bathroom. And here's the kicker, rather than scolding the bald little brat Caillou's parents laugh at the kid's wacky antics, much to the delight of my minions. I mean, how much fun are Caillou's parents? They not only allow tidal waves in the tub, they encourage them! They're the best parents ever!

Did I mention last night was bath night?

As such, I delivered a longer-than-usual pre-bath speech/warning. Sure, they got bubble bath. I'm not an ogre. But tidal waves, as usual, were forbidden, as was splashing, squirting and bathing of the cats.

For the most part, the speech worked. But still riding the Caillou high, there was a little more splashing and a little more water on the floor when it was all over. This does not make me happy and this episode at my house does not end with laughter.

I just wanna punch Caillou's daddy in the face. And then steal his cake.

Step 1: Turn off the Breaker

2012-01-07T07:08:00.001-06:00

New year, back to the same old stuff.

After taking a lengthy Christmas break from the many renovations under way around the house, it's time to get back at it.

And thanks in part to my checkered career path, I'm fairly capable of handling most of the stuff myself. In my youth, and a little beyond, I worked in a kitchen cabinet factory, as a labourer for a construction company, as an apprentice carpenter for a building/renovation company and as a roofer and framer.

But I'll be honest. The one thing I tend to avoid is the electrical part of the game. Again, at various points in my life, I've come away on the short end of the short circuit. When working for the renovation company, I foolishly listened to the lead hand, when he told me it was safe to touch the yellow wire while removing a fluorescent light fixture.

"Hmm," he said, after I was blown off the ladder, "maybe not."

That was where I learned that "Step 1" is always, turn off the breaker before you start. Seems obvious now.

More memorable was the time I went hunting with a buddy in Wisconsin. On the way out, I was dry. So when we crossed the fence, that had a weird little wire running through it, there was no problem. On the way home, after the rain, I was soaked. And when I started climbing that same little fence, my wet leg touched that little wire.

It felt like someone, a very large someone, had whacked me with a, eight-foot, 2X12 piece of spruce. I landed on my back, about five feet from the fence. My ever-compassionate hunting buddy did not stop laughing for about three hours.

And that's when I learned that climbing an electric fence while wet is a very bad idea. Seems obvious now.

But back to the renovations. Over the years, renovating some part of every home we've lived in, I've grown tired of paying electricians. Yes, they're good. And it's easier. But they're also expensive.

And so, a couple of days ago, faced with two little electrical problems, I hit the Internet to learn a few things about do-it-yourself wiring.

Step 1 is always "turn the breaker off before you start."

I also learned that "black to brass will save your ass." Didn't know that one. And I'd explain it further, but I don't carry liability insurance. As such, my advice for anything electrical, is hire an electrician.

The point, if there is one, is that I was successful in restoring power to two kitchen outlets. I was also successful in relocating one outlet in the laundry room, and installing a new one in the rec room. For you electricians, I'm sure it seems like nothing. For me, it was a major victory, and probably saved me several hundred dollars. Yay me.

Today, I'm back in my wheelhouse. I need to trim out the new built-in entertainment cabinet I made in September and then attack bedroom 2, which needs a few studs removed, new drywall, mud, tape and paint.

And then I have to bake banana bread. And clean the kitchen. And keep the boys entertained. And get to the library.

Have a great Saturday.

Mommy and Me

2012-01-06T06:44:00.001-06:00

So, I thought I'd wait a day or two after my "Bestest Night Ever" post before writing this one.

Not to take anything away from Daddy-Sonwun night, but I enjoyed the following day, Daddy-Mommy day, just as much.

We called in a babysitter and, by 9:30 a.m., Neomom and I had dumped the kids like a bad habit and were in line at Tim Horton's drive-through. Armed with coffee and a couple of breakfast sandwiches, we headed for Winnipeg for a leisurely day of kid-free fun. (Love my kids.)

At Timmy's, we didn't hear one whine from the back seat about apple juice, cookies or muffins. As we headed east on the TransCanada Highway, there were no fights, no one was looking out anyone else's window, no one was spitting, no one was "talking too loud" or "looking at me."

We talked without interruption, all the way to Winnipeg. At the St. Vital Mall, we walked at a leisurely pace without having to tell anyone to stop playing hide-and-seek in the clothing racks, we shopped and could actually concentrate on what we were looking at.

I love my boys, but every now and then it's nice to be out in public, doing mundane things, with my wife.

I realize for many of you, this is normal. Maybe you get a "date night" once a week, courtesy of Gramma, or Uncle Buck. But part of the joy of the RCMP lifestyle, with all the moves and being so far from family, is that lining up a trustworthy new babysitter or two, in each town you move to, takes a little time.

You know, as I contemplated writing this post, I did my usual brain scan for funny, unusual, wacky events that took place during the day. When I wrote for the newspaper, we called it the hook.

But honestly, there really wasn't anything that stood out. It was just the regular old stuff, sans kids. But I guess that's the point. Spending almost a whole day alone with my wife is not just a breath of fresh air, it's a hurricane. It's rare, it's appreciated a whole lot more.

Anyhoo, we finished up the day with a nice lunch at Earl's, a place I've wanted to check out since we moved to the area, and then headed over to the casino to lose a little cash. Mission accomplished.

As I realized on Sonwun-Daddy night, it's great to do things as a family, but it's equally important to find time to connect, on an individual level, with each family member, as well as yourself.

Have a great Friday!

I'm part of the problem . . .

2012-01-05T06:38:00.005-06:00

Aw crap!

I had planned a cop-out blog this morning. You know, something like a Top 10 of 2011, a look back at my favourite posts from the previous year. Turns out I only did 12 posts last year. Bad, bad blogger.

Thus the resolution to stay at this every day for 90 days. So onward.

As is my custom, I sat down with my coffee at the computer this morning to check out my favourite sites, check the weather, read a little news and check my blog stats. I mean, I write mostly for myself, but I can't help but take a look at how many people actually read this stuff. And I had a good day yesterday thanks, I'm sure, to my buddy Patrick's social media assistance. He tweeted and reposted yesterday's ramblings on his Facebook page.

On an average day, I see about 20 visitors, if I post the blog to Facebook. That number goes down to about 10 if I don't. Yesterday, I had 30 readers: 22 from Canada, six from the U.S., 1 from France and one from the Cayman Islands (Hi Steve!).

As for the news, well, I don't even want to talk about it this morning. Toxic, just toxic.

And then there's Facebook. I love some of the little posters or pictures that some folks find and share. Saw one this morning and thought, I've got to steal that and share it. Why? I actually thought about it this morning. It's this one:

Now I didn't repost this, even though I really wanted to. After all, it would make me look smart, superior. I honestly have no idea who the drunk chick on the right is. Pretty sure I've seen that pic in the tabloids in line at the grocery store checkout. But I don't know who it is.

But the kicker is the fact that I can only identify two folks on the left. Einstein and Hawking. That's it. And as much as I'd like to create the illusion that I know them all, just by posting this, I had to stop myself. Maybe after I figure them all out, I'll post it and then feel pretty smug. But for now, I just have to pride myself in NOT knowing who drunk chick is.

I guess I'm only partly what's wrong with the world today. If I learn who the rest of the good people are, I will in no way be responsible for what's wrong with the world today. It's a good goal.

Have a great Thursday. I've got some studying to do.

Bestest night ever!

2012-01-04T06:01:00.000-06:00

Last night, I had a part in creating "the bestest night ever!"

Wasn't really the plan, and I wasn't even sure I was capable of such a feat. But I did it and it feels good.

Neomom got a call from a girlfriend here in town in the afternoon. She was invited over for dinner. The girlfriend has a son about Sontoo's age, so he was tagging along.

That left Sonwun and I to fend for ourselves. Cool! Sonwun seemed very, very excited by the idea. His level of enthusiasm actually surprised me.

But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. With Sonwun going to school five days a week, any of my individual, one-on-one time, is spent with Sontoo. He takes it for granted. And I guess I just didn't realize that Sonwun never, ever gets time alone with me. Sontoo is always there.

Gotta say that it's a bit of an ego boost to know just how much he seems to crave alone time with Daddy.

Anyhoo, as soon as Neomom and Sontoo had cleared the driveway, I headed downstairs and grabbed a coke out of the fridge for Sonwun. A rare treat. But this was man time. He could belch with impunity and needed fuel.

And then, after stuffing a piece of toffee in his mouth (too close to supper - HA!) we sat down on the couch and fired up the Wii. MarioKart! Game on! We played, side by side, cheering each other on, to first and second place finishes in a bunch of races. Sometimes he took the win, sometimes me. I actually had a great time. Excited high fives all around with each victory.

He loves to play games with me. And he loves to cook with me, given the chance. But juggling schedules, kids and hot pots is not always an option. Last night, on the other hand . . .

Phase 2 of "the bestest night ever" was the cooking phase. We worked together, Chef and sous chef, to make pizza dough from scratch. And, after scouring the fridge, came up with ingredients for a cheese and pastrami pizza, heavy on the cheese. Sonwun doesn't like too many things cluttering up his pizza.

And finally, we headed downstairs, just the two of us, to eat our pizza in the rec room, drink more coke, burp freely, and watch five or six episodes of Batman, The Brave and the Bold. A perfect end to the bestest night ever.

And that's where Neomom found us when she got home. Curled up on the floor, together, watching Batman rid Gotham City of the Joker.

You know, being the stay-at-home parent, you sometimes take the kids for granted. They are there 24-7. You don't get the excited "MOMMY'S HOME!!" at the end of every working day. You spend the day refereeing squabbles, encouraging the minions to clean up their toys and making sure they finish their vegetables, brush their teeth and get to bed on time.

So it was a gift, to me, to be able to spend one evening alone with Sonwun. To be able to relax the rules and get to know him just a little better. I plan to make Daddy-Sonwun Day a regular thing. And Daddy-Sontoo Day as well.

Well it's 5:30 a.m. and Sonwun has just stumbled out of bed. He smiles at me, still sleepy eyes.

"I had an awesome time with you yesterday," he says.

Worth its weigh in gold.

Have a great Hump Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

Day 3

2012-01-03T07:35:00.000-06:00

So, Day 3 of the New Year and day 3 of my 90-day blogging commitment/resolution.

And Day 1 of being blocked.

So far this morning, I've written two and a half blogs. But they were written more in an effort to meet my commitment than from the heart. So I deleted them. And I'm starting again. And I'm getting annoyed.

The boys are behind me fighting over who gets the "controlling" controller in the two-man game of MarioKart. And that's pissing me off too.

I don't mind being pissed off when I write. It actually has produced some of my better stuff. But it's gotta be the right kind of pissed off. MarioKart squabbles are not the right kind.

So, back on track. A blog, after all, is little more than a journal.

I guess today I'm feeling a little out of sorts because my family, much of my family anyway, is together back in southern Ontario. I've seen the photos on Facebook of my brother, sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews touring around Toronto, enjoying dinners out together and having a good time.

The photos made me smile, but I wish I was there.

I've mentioned here before, I think, that my two brothers, two sisters and myself are spread fairly thin throughout North America. Sister in Kansas, sister in BC, brother in New York, brother in southern Ontario. Me in Manitoba. We don't get together for Sunday dinners.

As such, I suppose, we don't get into the mundane little spats that many families do. But we do miss each other, especially during the holidays and during times of stress.

And right now, we've got both. The holidays are obvious, but the stress added this year is that my dad, who also lives in southern Ontario, is fighting stage four, metastatic, renal cell carcinoma. Cancer. And, if you can qualify this shitty disease, bad cancer.

And ya know, I really didn't want to go here. I'm not really ready to talk about it in a blog. There are so many factors, so much crap going on . . . let's just leave it here.

So, plans for today . . . it's garbage day. And I've already taken out the garbage. I plan to bake bread again today, as my minions have destroyed the first two loaves and are demanding more. I'm also hoping to get them over to the skating rink and am praying that the skates we bought last year still fit.

That's all I got for Day 3. Have a good one!

The Year of the Loaf

2012-01-02T06:32:00.001-06:00

Well, what can I say. Day 2 and it's been a busy 2012 already.

Before coffee this morning, I went sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing, I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu. And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying. Basically, I lived like I was Mayan.

Thanks, Tim McGraw, for the suggestions.

So I can check those off my list.

Yesterday I played, once again, with my new Christmas toy: the KitchenAid Pro 5 Plus mixer. I can actually hear angels singing when I write that.

Anyway, baking bread. I consider myself a novice. I've done it a few times with reasonable, although not exceptional results. Sonwun loves it. That's good enough for me.

But the breads of 2011 were a little dense for my taste. So I've been doing some reading in hopes of improving the loaves of the New Year. Based on that reading, I figure temperature has been my enemy on many levels. First off, when dissolving yeast, I've learned that the water should be around 100F. I kinda played fast and loose with the temperatures in the past, and probably killed a lot of innocent yeasts.

And letting the dough rise . . . again, temperature issues. Don't think the house was ever quite warm enough to let the dough rise properly, just sitting on the counter. So this year, this brand new year, I've learned that I should put said dough in the oven, over a pan of hot water. Done.

And finally, I wasn't putting the dough in the loaf pans properly. I just kinda plopped it in there. But my research tells me I should be rolling out the dough into a rectangle, and then rolling up said rectangle into a loaf shape. Who knew?

But I did it all, and I gotta say the results were spectacular. At lunch, the boys were absolutely silent. Never happens. But they were so focussed on the warm bread, with butter and grape jelly. They only spoke to ask for more. Cool!

It's cheaper, it's better for them and it's not all that hard to do.

2012 - The Year of the Home-made Loaf!

Cheers!

2012-01-01T06:14:00.000-06:00

Wow, what a day! It oozes potential, drips with possibility. It is the first day of the rest of my life. WOW!

Already, in the few short hours since the birth of the new year, I have experienced the first wind storm of 2012. I woke up for the first time in 2012. I took my first pee of the new year, brewed my first pot of coffee, put on my first pair of socks and settled my boys' first argument of 2012.

Still flush from all this excitement, I plan, later, to cook my first breakfast of 2012, shower for the first time and then, wait for it, brush my teeth. I may even vacuum. For the first time. In 2012.

And with all of these accomplishments behind me, I will resolve to do great things in the coming year. I'll quit smoking, quit drinking, cure diabetes, run a marathon, backpack through Europe, buy a yacht and figure out how they get the soft, flowing caramel inside the Caramilk bar.

Now last year wasn't a complete loss. For example, as one of my final acts of 2011, last night I cooked supper. I made ribeye steaks with a red wine reduction pan sauce. And actually, that was a first and it was delicious! Can't wait to make that for the first time this new year.

So, Happy New Year all. Hope you had a great night last night and I hope your head isn't feeling two sizes too small for your brain. Me? I'm clean. Neomom worked last night, so I was home alone with the boys. In bed by 11. Very, very exciting.

To be honest, the last time I remember actually doing anything for New Year's Eve was in 1999, when I celebrated the impending doom of Y2K with Patrick, Wendy and my girlfriend at the time, now known as Neomom. That was back in Fort Erie, Ontario, in the little house on Brock Street, in a different life. I was a newspaper editor. Neomom was an archaeologist. We had no kids, comparatively little responsibility.

Yeah, a lot has changed. But I'm pretty sure that, having survived Y2K, I vowed to quit smoking, quit drinking, cure diabetes, run a marathon, backpack through Europe, buy a yacht and figure out how they get the soft, flowing caramel inside the Caramilk bar.

This year for sure.

Enjoy 2012. Live it like the Mayans knew something we don't.

Ugh

2011-12-31T06:19:00.001-06:00

If you thought I rambled yesterday . . .

Good, uh, morning. And Happy New Year's Eve, 2011. And, if you believe those wacky Mayans, enjoy your final New Year's Eve on this planet. Live it up.

So, it's been a long night. Woke up at 3:30— bad. And a bad habit I've managed to foster. But I've been training myself to get back to sleep. So I picked up my book and started reading. Got maybe one chapter done before I was sleepy again. Turned off the light and started to drift off . . .

"Daaaaaaadddddddyyyyyyyy. I want Daaaaaaaddddddddyyyyyy."

Aw crap. Someone had a bad dream, or slept on his arm wrong, or the cat is bothering him, or he's worried about the whole Mayan thing. Who knows?

So, like any good daddy, I yell up the stairs: "Go back to sleep or you'll wake the monsters in your closet."

Now two kids are screaming.

Just kidding.

I crawl out of my nice warm bed and head for the boys' room. It's Sonwun this time. His face hurts. He's not really awake, but he's irritated. And noisy. I ask where it hurts and, in the dark, it seems he's indicating his jaw. I rub the sore spot, try to be soothing and soon he's less irritated and, it seems, back to sleep.

I ponder the possibilities: grinding teeth, maybe he whacked his face while we were tobogganing yesterday, whatever. He's asleep and I'm still pretty sleepy myself.

Back to bed, move the cats out of the warm spot, crawl in . . . start to drift off . . .

"Daaaaaaddddddy."

Aw crap.

Well, to make a long story a little shorter, this went on two more times before Sonwun drifted off for good. And, as I write this at 6:08 a.m., he's still sleeping like a baby. I, however, have not been back to sleep, although I did manage to finish reading several chapters in my book. wahoo.

So I don't know about you, but, with Neomom on night shift, I've got no major plans for this evening, except for watching the Canada-USA World Junior Hockey game. Here's hoping it's a little more interesting than all of the games so far. Nice to see Canada dominating, but it's making for some boring games. Hard to watch the third period when we're leading 8-0 after two.

Anyway, that's all I got this morning. Have a great day, and I'll see you next year.

Eight of Eight

2011-12-30T07:46:00.000-06:00

Watched a disturbing movie last night. Had disturbing dreams. Coincidence?

Anyhoo, last night I was the tooth fairy. No, not in the dream. In reality.

Seems Sonwun spent most of yesterday's nap time tugging at a loose tooth, keeping himself and Sontoo wide awake for the duration. I, on the other hand, took advantage of nap time and had a lovely sleep. But awoke to Sonwun wailing just outside my door. He'd lost the tooth.

No tooth = no cash.

Seems he'd dropped it on the berber carpet that, as you might expect, is remarkably similar in colour to a young boy's canine. So we had to spend five minutes searching the stairs and lower level carpet for said tooth. We found it before one of the cats batted it around the house and under the lazyboy, and order was restored.

For the record, at barely six years of age, Sonwun has now lost eight of his baby teeth. Many in his Grade 1 classmates haven't lost any. Not sure if this is a good thing, bad, or indifferent. Just a fact.

In any case, Neomom has decided to keep all of the teeth. Not sure why, but she has. So we do. Thus, if the tooth had remained lost, it would have been a problem, not only for Sonwun's cash-flow, but for Neomom's collection.

I should also point out that, of the eight, this was not the most difficult tooth to find. That one came out when we lived in Thompson, Manitoba. And it did not come out naturally. And by that I mean it did not get loose, get looser and get pulled out by Sonwun. It was knocked out.

For a kid who, in his six short years, has broken an arm and very nearly broken a foot, having a tooth knocked out seems almost natural.

Anyhoo, in Thompson, I had constructed a swing for Sonwun. A rope swing. And seeing as his little butt was too small for a regular tire swing, I used a lawnmower wheel, a steel one with rubber around the outside. Kinda like those old pommel lifts on the small ski hills.

(I feel like I'm rambling. Seem that way to you?)

And it was this swing, tossed by a little friend, that crashed into Sonwun's mouth, taking out his tooth. After applying my vast medical knowledge to the afflicted area with a popsicle, I took a cursory look in the grass near the swing and declared the tooth missing, gone, a financial loss. Neomom, on the other hand, spent a few hours on her hands a knees, separating blades of grass in an ever-widening circle.

For that reason, last night as Sonwun slept, I reached under his pillow and pulled out number 8 of 8 for Neomom's collection and replaced it with a little cash.

Have a great Friday. Sonwun will.

The Cats are safe . . .

2011-12-29T07:31:00.004-06:00

I read the news today . . . oh boy.

Not sure why I do this. Maybe my morning is starting off just a little too nicely. Maybe I'm too relaxed. Maybe I feel a pile of crap dumped on my soul at 6:44 a.m. is just what the doctor ordered.

But, whatever the reason, I find myself checking headlines on an number of news sites as part of my morning routine. And ya know, I never come away feeling good about the future.

So let's skip the news. Just accept that it was a craptastic day yesterday on planet Earth and move on.

Instead, let's review Christmas toys, just for fun. And we'll start with the Finn McMissile remote control car that shoots real missiles. And let's start with the bottom line: Don't buy it. Or ask Santa for it.

Santa brought two such toys to our home last weekend. A Finn McMissile for Sonwun and a missile-firing Towmater for Sontoo. They were thrilled. They'd seen in on TV in the months leading up to Christmas and the devices had made both lists - in Volume I of said list.

Now, Santa's decision to purchase these items from a third-party supplier, as opposed to having the elves make them, was a poor one. It is my understanding the elves make quality toys. Clearly, these are not of elvin decent.

Not sure what Santa paid for them, but they retail for 49.99 at Toys R Us. Plus tax.

The allure of these Disney-Pixar-licenced items, is that not only do you get a remote control car, but these fire missiles, again, using the remote control.

I was a little nervous for the cats in the house, knowing they would be immediately identified by my boys as sympathizers of Sir Miles Axlerod, the Cars 2 villain, and marked for execution.

The good news is, the cats are surviving. The bad news is that they are surviving because the missile function on the cars isn't worth a crap.

Difficult to load, impossible to fire and jams often. A little frustrating, not only for two young boys, ages 3 and 6, but also for Daddy, the mythical Daddy who knows all and has magical fingers that can fix any piece of crap that toy manufacturers put out.

This Daddy has enough trouble separating these toys from the packaging. I swear, they put more engineers to work on the packaging than they do the actual toys. Wires, plastic ties downs, industrial grade plastic wrapped all around . . . Neomom and I equip ourselves with scissors, knives and a cutting torch before we even begin opening presents.

Anyhoo, bottom line on these things is, if you want what is promised— a remote control vehicle that fires missiles— pass. If you just want a low-grade remote control car, and you're willing to pay $50 for it, go ahead. But my boys have only been using them for 4 days, so I can't say they'll necessary last more than a month.

Now, depending on how breakfast goes this morning, tomorrow's product review might just be the PiggyWiggy Microwave Bacon Tray and Splatter Lid. I've only used it once since Christmas and the results were less than spectacular. But before panning the Piggywiggy, I feel I should give it a few more chances, varying cooking times, before I review. Stay tuned.

Anyhoo, that's it for Thursday. Have yourselves a great day!

Huh?

2011-12-28T06:49:00.003-06:00

"Pricks . . . pricks . . . pricks!"

It's 6:30 a.m., it's still dark and it's snowing outside. It's my time, daddy time. It's a time usually reserved for checking emails, facebook, fantasy football and blogging. But, as so often is the case, I am joined by at least one of my early-rising progeny. I count myself lucky if they sleep past 6 a.m.

And, as I sit here, Sonwun is racing for his life in MarioKart. That doesn't disturb me. It's Christmas vacation after all. But his mumbling is beginning to make me nervous.

"Pricks . . . pricks."

I mean, I understand getting a little frustrated with the other racers in the game. I've played, I know it's annoying when you get bumped off a bridge, or someone throws a turtle at you. We've all been there. But maybe his response is a little harsh.

So I glance toward the TV.

Now you have to understand, Sonwun is in Grade 1 and learning to read. And he loves it. Every car trip, to the store or to the library, is a reading adventure. He reads street signs, billboards and the bags the groceries come in. He's good, but he's not yet perfect.

And right now, as he decides which MarioKart mode to race in, he's reading.

He has no trouble with the word "Grand" but the word "Prix" is giving him some trouble. So he repeats it and repeats it, trying to understand.

"Pricks."

Anyhoo, at least I get to start my day with a smile. Have a great hump day. Celebrate as you see fit.

P.S. Not sure why I can't get the size and font I want throughout this blog. Must be a bug in the designers' system. Pricks.

Playing with the new toy . . .

2011-12-27T07:30:00.001-06:00

And so, first full day with the KitchenAid Pro 5 Plus. Loving it.

First recipe: Banana bread. Had a couple of over-ripe bananas kicking around, so what else can you do?

As has become my practice when cooking and baking, the first stop was allrecipes.com. Borrowed "Cathy's Banana Bread" recipe, as it had a 4.5-star rating. I never make anything with fewer than 4.5 stars. And I've never been disappointed with this site.

Now then, I did alter the recipe, just a touch, as is my custom. First off, I didn't measure the bananas. I just guessed and went with two. Should have been about right.

Second, I baked in a standard 9X5 loaf pan, rather than the two 7X3 pans in the recipe. I also used butter instead of margarine (everything's better with butter) and I cut the sugar down to one cup. I think I could have cut it even more, but we'll wait for next time.

Oh yeah, and as a result of the larger pan, the cook time went from 50 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. No problems.

But most importantly, I used a Sous Chef: Sonwun. This increased prep time just a little, but it was well worth it. I made him say "YES CHEF!" in response to every order given. I felt like Ramsay!

Anyhoo, long story short, banana bread was a success. The KitchenAid Pro 5 Plus was awesome, and I can't wait to make regular ol' bread. Sonwun, fetch my hat.

"YES CHEF!"

Box on . . .

2011-12-26T07:06:00.000-06:00

So, it's Boxing Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

The unbridled greed of Christmas Day (with young ones) has drawn to a close. I'll need a Bobcat to move the empty boxes and crumpled paper from the rec room. So that's on the list.

Neomom's back to work today and Sontoo is off school for two weeks. But at least the two boys have a whole new crop of crap to wade through. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

As for me, Daddy got a new KitchenAid stand mixer. And, as luck would have it, there are four old bananas on the counter, turning black. So, banana bread it is. I've wanted this mixer ever since I started baking my own bread. While kneading dough by hand can be therapeutic, it gets a little old after a while. I only have so much anger in the bank to transfer to my dough.

So, after a quick shop this morning, Sonwun and Sontoo in tow, my plan is to bake stuff. Probably the aforementioned banana bread and then a loaf or two of regular bread. The price of the stuff at the grocery stores has just gotten out of hand. I can do it cheaper . . . and better.

Anyhoo, not gonna spend much time blogging this morning. But I have accepted the New Year's resolution of daily blogging for 90 days. After that, we'll see.

I know I enjoy writing and blogging, for whatever reason, makes me feel good. And I need that.

So, not sure if anyone's still reading this, but if you are, you should know that the next few will not be up to my regular standards. (Check back in my archive for "regular standards.") But I will improve. Read if you like, ignore if you don't.

Happy Boxing Day all!

Christmas is coming . . .

2011-12-17T06:20:00.001-06:00

**DISCLAIMER**
Not sure what font or type size will appear on this one. Blogger seems to have changed the way it does things since my last posting. We'll see.**

Well, another day begun. This at 4:30 a.m., with the loud proclamation from upstairs: "Daddy, I'm done peeing and pooping!"

And even though it is the sweet little voice of my three-year-old and it's a cute little sing-song sound that floats down the stairs, at this time, it hits my ears like a smoke detector on steroids.

But I am daddy, and I now must take care of the paperwork. And then I must utilize my best gentle daddy voice to try to soothe Sontoo back toward sleep. And I fail.

As I type this, I am listening to a discussion between Sonwun and Sontoo. Seems Sonwun wants to sleep and Sontoo, now fully awake, would like to offer up a personal opinion on his recent viewing of Thomas the Train: Steamies versus Diesels.

Diesels are bad! Just in case you were wondering.

Well, Christmas countdown is on. Seven days until Christmas Eve. Seven days of Sontoo asking if he can open the presents under the tree. Seven more days of Sonwun repeating, "I wish I had that," with every salvo from the myriad marketing departments fired down from satellites to our television set.

Six days to get a turkey, wrap up the shopping and settle in for a few days of rest and relaxation.

And in spite of the fact that Sears' Christmas Wish Book arrived in September, and we've been bombarded by Christmas movies, commercials and specials since late October, we have managed to save one or two things for Christmas Eve, and maybe Christmas Eve Eve.

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, for example. And no, I'm not talking about the creepy, crappy 2000 version. I'm talking about the 1966 classic, that my brothers and sisters and I used to gather to watch the ONE OR TWO times it was on in maybe the week or so before Christmas. (Not 45 times starting in mid-November). So we're saving that one for Dec. 23 or 24.

I admit that, in the last week, we have watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman and Elf. Unfortunately my copy of Scrooged was on VHS. Must buy DVD, or Blu-ray.

We are also holding off on our trip to Island Park, here in Portage La Prairie. It's a new tradition, started last year when we loaded our pajama-clad crew into the mini-van and drove through a pretty impressive Christmas light display. The boys loved it and have been pushing for it for the last week or two.

Why wait?

Well, the weather's just not cooperating. We're experiencing and unusually snow-less December here. And to fully enjoy the Island Park experience, I need a blanket of the white stuff. Cross your fingers.

Anyhoo, that's all I've got this morning. Enjoy the season. And don't let anyone take the Happy out of your Happy Holidays.

I saw it coming . . .

2011-09-28T05:53:00.003-05:00

You know, I saw this one coming. I should have put a stop to it, but I didn't.

Sure, I threw out a half-hearted, "Sonwun, that's probably not a great idea." But in hindsight, I should have done more. I should have taken the rope, the harness and the rocks and put them away, in a safe place.

So when I heard the screaming from the front lawn, I had a pretty good idea of what awaited me outside. It was the kind of screaming that tells you something is seriously wrong. No one threw sand at someone else. No one took someone's toy. No one was looking out someone else's window.

No, this was the real thing.

Sonwun loves trees. He loves to climb them, hang from them, break branches from them and find bugs in them. He also loves ropes. He loves to tie things to ropes and drag them around. And he has combined these loves on our front lawn.

Using his mother's rock-climbing harness, he will toss a rope up over a branch and actually haul himself up to said branch to get into the tree. I'm actually proud of this. It takes some effort and he keeps at it until he succeeds. I know it's dangerous, but I've watched him do it and he's pretty careful.

But he also likes to tie the rope around large rocks and try to haul them up into the air. I've seen this. I've sent out the half-hearted warning. But I should have done more.

Last night, after supper, he tied up a 20-pound rock and began hauling. It apparently reached a branch about 7 feet up before it broke loose. And it fell. And it landed on his little foot. And it smashed that little foot, breaking at least two bones, possibly three. (The radiologist wasn't in last night.)

I am thanking God today that the rock landed on his foot and not on his head. And not on Sontoo's head, as Sontoo was playing under the same tree.

I'm also thanking God that Sonwun's a normal, adventurous boy. He doesn't shy away from challenges, he continues to ask himself, "what happens if . . ." and then works to answer that question, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. It's not a bad way to live.

But I guess that, maybe a little more often, I need to step in and answer the question for him. The answer this time, I knew, was "The rock will eventually break free and fall. And you better not be under it when it does, because it will do some damage."

And I guess that this is one of the fine lines of fatherhood. I've got to figure out when to answer the question and when to let him figure it out on his own. I think I dropped the ball on this one.

Anyhoo, it's still dark out now, but when the sun rises I plan to take pictures of the victim, the offender and the crime scene. And maybe I'll post them tomorrow.

It's 5:45 a.m. and both boys are already up. Sonwun has a hard splint on his foot, and I've been told he's not allowed to put weight on it for two or three weeks. So, in the next few days, we'll be testing out the crutch thing. Sonwun's mentioned that Uncle John used crutches when he hurt his foot, so he's anxious to give it a go.

As for me, I need to take a deep breath, be thankful for guardian angels and let him keep asking himself questions and experimenting to find answers. But I think I will answer just one for him. "NO, you are not going down the stairs with those crutches! Because I'm your father and because I said so."

Nature or Nurture?

2011-08-30T08:55:00.001-05:00

So, in an effort to make life more "interesting," we've made a few additions to the family. Namely, Paws and Puffy. Two more cats.

That makes one dog, two kids and three cats.

Yeah, call me crazy. Shouldn't have had kids.

Just kidding . . . most days.

Paws arrived first. Not sure why we decided to get one. It may be just because the elder feline statesman, Oliver, needed a friend. It may be because the kids needed another toy. It could be my head isn't screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that my shoes are too tight. But whatever the reason, my head or my shoes, I stand here each day

Anyhoo, he was cute and he was free. So we got him.

Then, for reasons beyond my comprehension, we decided to get another. He too was cute and free.

Now, these two little guys have re-ignited in my brain the old nurture-vs.-nature debate.

I've always favoured short-hair cats. They not only minimize the shed factor and the fun of cleaning up hairballs, but I think they're smarter and nicer. And I've found this (especially the smarter part) to be the case with Paws (short hair) and Puffy (the puffy one).

But there is a nurture factor I can't ignore.

Paws came from a regular home. Puffy came from a, well, how to put this? He came from a mellow home. His human parents, um, er, uh, oh hell . . . they smoked a lot of weed. And I'm beginning to think ol' Puffy got his head stuck inside a bong at a very young age.

He falls down a lot.

When Paws discovered we had two active children, he quickly decided that the best place to sleep was behind the couch. When Puffy gets sleepy, he falls over wherever he is and passes out.

Paws strikes at his toys with the precision and skill of a practised mouser.

Puffy misses often. It's like he's seeing three of them, and hasn't figured out that you aim for the middle one. He also fights with unseen objects fairly regularly.

When Paws sees the boys coming, he moves quickly and with great stealth.

Puffy lies there and allows himself to be "steamrolled" by Sontoo. And he falls down a lot.

Paws is aware of his surroundings.

Puffy often gets his head caught in closing doors, reclining chairs, stair balusters and chair railings.

So I don't know. Nature or nurture? Is it the paws, or is it the puff?

If you wanna be a cat wrangler . . .

2011-06-09T05:53:00.001-05:00

All righty then, let's talk baseball, shall we?

Specifically, let's talk about a kid's first experience with "organized" ball. And let's talk about a parent's frustration with said baseball. And just for fun, we'll use myself and Sonwun as examples.

We signed up a month or two back. It's free, and worth every penny. Well, it's free except for the $50 deposit we had to put down for a "uniform." $50?? Cool, I thought. Must be the whole thing with pants, socks and hat.

Um, no.

For the $50 deposit, we got a shirt. A big shirt. A shirt that comes down below the boy's knees. A shirt that would definitely fit Neomom and, quite possibly, me. There may be a five-year-old or two on the planet that could wear this thing, but I've never seen one.

So, expectations are lowered somewhat. But let's look at that, shall we? What exactly are my expectations, and am I aiming too high?

1. I expect the coach, or coaches, to know and be able to impart the fundamentals.
2. I expect the coach, or coaches, to have some ability to handle five-year-olds. And yeah, I know that's like herding cats. But if you sign up to be a cat wrangler . . .

And, based on those expectation, I hope my boy will have a good time and learn a few things.

That's about it.

So, now, let's talk about the past couple of practices. A couple of weeks back, it was "picture day." And on this day, an individual with a digital camera and dreams of big bucks shows up to record, for posterity, the beginning of a dozen baseball careers.

But, rather than set up, say, behind the backstop, out of the way, this Geddes wannabe sets up on the diamond, rendering it uninhabitable for the future Blue Jays' practice. And the coaches, apparently, decide the outfield area is not a part of baseball.

And so, while the photographer plods through a dozen photos, taking the entire hour, the kids play a rousing game of "What Time is it Mr. Wolf" while I grind my teeth in the bleachers - for an hour.

And so, having missed out on batting practice (his favourite) the previous week, Sonwun and I show up, on time, at 5:55, as usual, the following week. And once again we're alone with the coaches. Slowly, the others dribble in until about 6:15 when there are enough, apparently, to begin practice.

And batting practice is on the agenda. Naturally, the kid who arrived at 6:15 is the first to bat. He gets about 8 minutes of practice. By the time Sonwun's time at the plate rolls around, at 6:57, he gets about two minutes.

And I grind my teeth in the bleachers.

Oh, and one more thing, for now. When learning to bat, it's important for the young player to raise the BACK elbow in anticipation of the pitch. Raising BOTH elbows is counterproductive to the batting process and not one of the fundamentals of baseball. It is also galactically stupid.

Okay, I'm done.

And, in fairness, I should point out that Sonwun is enjoying baseball, as well as What Time is it Mr. Wolf. And I should note that the coaches are volunteers, who are taking time away from their lives to, um, coach, this team. And for that I am begrudgingly grateful.

But still . . .

1. I expect the coach, or coaches, to know and be able to impart the fundamentals.
2. I expect the coach, or coaches, to have some ability to handle five-year-olds. And yeah, I know that's like herding cats. But if you sign up to be a cat wrangler . . .

The good, the bad . . .

2011-04-07T16:06:00.001-05:00

Once again I find myself returning to the keyboard after a long absence. Guess I've been a little overwhelmed lately getting my house in order . . . literally and figuratively.

But I miss writing and, eventually, am inevitably drawn back.

Since I last wrote, we've been through some good, some bad and some ugly.

So let's start with the ugly - cause it's forefront in my mind. I'll try to keep it brief.

A few weeks back, we learned that the "sciatica" pain that my dad had been experiencing for several months was, in fact, a cancerous tumour on his spine. To make matters just a little more ugly, we learned a few days later that this was the secondary cancer. The primary was found a few days later on his kidney.

The good news, I guess, is that treatment is moving along. Yesterday he underwent surgery on his spine to remove the as much of the tumour as was possible, and repair some of the damage it had cause to one of his vertebrae.

In a few weeks, he'll begin radiation therapy to for that tumour and a medicinal therapy to shrink the one on his kidney. So it's one day at a time.

It's hardly worth saying, but I'm running through a mess of emotions. I haven't sorted them out yet, so I'm not ready to put them to paper. But I'll say frustration is one of the key elements. I'm frustrated that this is happening. I'm frustrated that I live more than 2000 km away from Dad. I'm frustrated that I can't just pick up and go. I'm frustrated that I can't get information minute-by-minute, second-by-second. That being said, the information technology available today is providing a much speedier communication exchange than what was possible 20 years ago. And for that I am grateful.

So I guess that covers the bad and the ugly. At least as much of it as I can write about today.

So . . . the good.

The boys are happy and healthy and we're slowly making our house in Portage into our home. Sonwun is finally enjoying Kindergarten, Sontoo is getting out to playgroup now and again and spring seems to have finally arrived.

After a long western winter, the sunshine and melting snow is more than welcome.

As I type, I'm listening to the soothing sound of mournful wails coming from the playroom. The boys have discovered the joy and frustration of domino runs. And, as a big fan of Angry Birds, Sonwun is attempting to build frog castles at the end of each domino run. He is meeting with some difficulty. (For those of you unfamiliar, Angry Birds is a game for iPod/iPad fans. Look it up for more info if you care.)

Anyhoo, laundry awaits, supper awaits and I wait. Hoping for a really good spring and summer. Hoping for a lot of things.

And, hopefully, I'll write more tomorrow.

Gazintas and ICT

2011-01-11T07:20:00.002-06:00

Before Sonwun started school, or even preschool, I used to joke about him "entering the system."

To me, that meant I was giving up control of my child's mind to the government, to the school board, the corporations, the special interest groups . . . "The System!" It meant that he would be fed the gospel of the day, outside of my presence. Okay, maybe I wasn't joking. It made me nervous.

But hey, he made it through preschool without being severely damaged. How bad could Kindergarten be? I mean, I remember Kindergarten a little. Seems to me we fingerpainted, spatterpainted, played in the sandbox, took a little nap on our mats. And that Michelle girl would chase me around at recess and try to kiss me. YUCK!

I don't remember report cards. They may have existed in Kindergarten way back then, but I don't think they did. Regardless, they exist now. And we just received Sonwun's first report from The System.

Most of it was as expected. He knows his numbers, colours and shapes. He's a little shy when it comes to classroom discussions, which is no surprise considering we moved here after the school year had begun. He can count to 10 just fine, but needs a little work on counting to 30. Fair enough.

But . . . and you knew there'd be a but, there was one entry on the Kindergarten report card that blew my mind. It was in the ICT section. That section, my friends, did not exist when I was 5. It's the Information Communication Technology section. Seriously. Sounds like something one takes at Devry Institute as part of post secondary education. But it's not.

It's a Kindergarten reality and, I'm sorry, but it is a clear example of "The System" at work in the schools. It makes me a little nervous.

There are three competencies my five-year-old is required to master by the end of the year:

1. Demonstrates critical thinking with ICT to plan and gather information— research, sorting, organizing and analyzing information.
2. Demonstrates creative thinking with ICT to produce and communicate information— making presentations considering audience appeal, using graphics, revising and editing products.

And finally, my favourite . . .

3. Demonstrates responsibility and ethics with ICT— showing respect, following copyright rules and division policy, considering effect on others.

Copyright rules?? Are you freakin' serious? This lesson plan brought to you by the Warner Music Group.

Call me old (fashion), but I'm turning my boy over to the system for a few hours a day so that he can learn the three Rs. NOT copyright law. He's 5 and I'm not looking for him to create an ad campaign for Sony by the end of the year, while respecting all copyright laws. I want him to read, to write and learn his gazintas (yeah, I'm that old, look up Beverly Hillbillies if you want to know what that means).

But apparently there is a whole lot more expected of five-year-olds these days. And my boy has entered the system.

On the positive side, I can have him proof-read my posts, and let me know if I need to add any TM notices for, say, using the word gazinta. He's in Kindergarten. He needs to know this. And he needs to teach me.

Have a great Tuesday.

Memo to Bell . . .

2010-12-30T10:54:00.003-06:00

Dear Bell Satellite Service:

I'm not sorry I left you. We've had our problems, and I'm not going to go into detail right here, right now. Suffice to say, I'm not impressed.

My current problem, being the fact that you owe me about $150, is only serving to reinforce my pleasure in my decision to stop sending you money every month.

Three weeks ago, I phoned you to ask where my money was, after you sent me a new bill, asking for money for next month's service, when I terminated service with you a month prior. Your accounting system needs work.

You said you were pleased to help me with this problem, and that my cheque would arrive in two weeks. If it didn't, you told me, call back.

So I marked the day on the calendar. December 22.

And when the cheque did not arrive, I waited another week, to give you a little grace time over the holiday season. Merry Christmas.

As I type this, I am on the phone with one of your service reps. So far, I've been told that, yes, you owe me money and, "Definitely I will help you today."

Let me just say, that the only way you can help me today, my dear friend, is if you get on a plane with that cheque and deliver it personally. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'm only going to get another promise that it's coming.

But that, dear Bell, is not why I'm writing today. I'm writing today with a helpful tip (as I wait on the line for "three to five minutes" while your rep looks something up).

When I called this morning, I had to wait on the line for about 20 minutes. That's irritating. But what's even more irritating is your decision to interrupt the wait every 25 seconds (yes, I timed it) with the following message:
"We appreciated your patience. Please stay on the line and your call will be answered as soon as an agent is available."

You don't appreciated my patience, or you would not test it every 25 seconds with that annoying message. Annoying as, waiting 20 minutes, I had to hear it about 40 times.

Thus, it is not helpful. It's annoying as all hell. So stop it. Or cut your wait times down so that I may only have to hear it once or twice.

That's my suggestion. You're welcome.

Now, I'm still waiting for my friend, your representative with the thick accent, to reassure me that my money is on the way. Which, of course, does not help me today in any way shape or form. And, it's been longer than three to five minutes already.

So he's back on the phone . . . (pause while I pace and speak to this representative) . . . and now I'm really pissed off.

The good news, I guess, is that "Sabastian" is really sorry that the last customer service representative lied to me.

"I'm really sorry this situation," he tells me. "It's, like, no fair for the customer."

But the bottom line, Sabastian tells me, is that in three to five business days, I will receive a "final bill." One month after that, I will get my cheque. Considering my service with Bell ended November 1, this just sucks. But, according to Sabastian, there is nothing he can do about it.

Well, he could add $20 to the $150 they already owe me, for interest and inconvenience, but he can't just send the cheque. That's impossible.

Bell can beam a signal into space, bounce it off a satellite, send it back to earth . . . but sending me a cheque prior to my receiving my "final bill," . . . that's impossible.

Bell, I'm not impressed. Your customer service sucks. I only wish I was still a customer so that I could stop sending you money today and, when you call to complain, tell you that it's my policy not to pay bills until at least one year after I receive them. That's the way my system works. I'm very sorry, and I understand your frustration, but there's nothing I can do about it. And, when you don't get your money in a year, I'll apologize that I lied to you and promise to send it in another year.

What's more, I'll hire someone with a thick accent to tell you that "I'm really sorry this situation," and promise to file a complaint with management. I know that will make you feel better.

Good bye Bell. Never again.

Yet Another Milestone . . .

2010-12-06T07:31:00.001-06:00

Okay, so let's talk about vomit, shall we? (If you're squeamish, or not a parent, go find another blog today.)

My sister once said to me that one of the biggest and best milestones she celebrated with her children, was the day the last one learned to puke in the toilet. I'm the father of two small boys. I get this.

When the stomach flu invades the house, I find myself grabbing sheets from the linen closet and covering the couches. In carpeted rooms, I'll even throw some on the floor. I can handle puke on hardwood, on linoleum and even on the walls. But on carpet, or furniture? Um, no thanks.

So, where am I going with this?

Well, Sonwun had his first friends-over birthday party Friday. And may I just say, WOW! What chaos! The violence, the insanity, the unbridled, unfiltered, unfettered energy of a group of five-year-olds needs to be explored, harnessed and used to power a small city. Again I say, WOW!

But I digress.

Sonwun stuffed himself with popcorn, candy and cake. He ignored any food of substance. Fair enough. It's one day, it's his party and he'll puke if he wants to.

And he did. With his belly full of garbage, he ran, he jumped, he wrestled, and he ran some more with his little friends. And then he ran to the bathroom and threw up. And may I just say, HOORAY! He made it to the bathroom and let fly where he was supposed to. That was a first and yeah, as big a milestone as birthday number 5.

Now, unbeknownst to me at the time, Sontoo observed this little ritual. At 2 years and 10 months, he was fascinated. But I was busy. I shooed him out of the bathroom, we cleaned up Sonwun and sent him back into action.

Fast-forward about 8 hours. It's 2:20 a.m. I'm awakened by the sound of retching. I fly out of bed and follow the sound. Been here before. I know I'm going to be changing sheets, pajamas, perhaps addresses.

I'm on my way to the boys' room when I look right. And there, kneeling in front of his little potty, is Sontoo. He's not even three yet, but he got out of bed, made his way to the bathroom and threw up in his potty.

Yeah, it still breaks my heart to see the poor little guy having to deal with this. But at the same time, I was so proud of him. After a clean-up, I took him back to his bedroom and checked the bed, the floor, the walls, the dog and the cat. All puke-free.

He had to get up two more times in the night, and I didn't get any sleep, but he made it to the potty each time. I'm thankful, grateful and proud.

Sonwun has taught Sontoo many things. Not all of them make me proud. Food-throwing, using the dog as a trampoline, flying off the coffee table . . . this one makes up for a couple of the negatives.

I know if you're a parent, you get this one.

Have a great Monday!

(And Happy 5th Birthday Sonwun. I love you!)

It continues . . .

2010-12-02T06:31:00.004-06:00

23 Days to Go . . .

It's amazing how much Christmas changes when you have kids. And it's amazing how it changes year to year as these kids grow.

I mean, when you first have the kids, they have no concept beyond staring at the pretty lights and loving the sound wrapping paper makes when they smack it. And yeah, that's kinda cool.

But before long, you're making supper and all you can hear from the living room is "Holy Cow Daddy, you have to see this." And then the inevitable follow-up, "I need that."

Yeah, the marketing is well underway. And it's aimed squarely at my kids and my Visa card.

So we'll do our best to ignore that for a while.

Sonwun has also received his annual video message from Santa. And he was very excited about that. This, again, is something that was not available when I was a kid. Hell, it wasn't even available five years ago, to the best of my knowledge. But clever marketing folks have once again enlisted the Jolly Old Elf to sell product and increase website traffic.

But, to be fair, it's pretty cool. Click here to see Santa's message to Sonwun. WAIT! I just tested this and apparently it takes you away from the blog. So . . . finish reading, and then go back and click there. Thanks!

Neomom has been busy decorating the new house and, as usual, has done a fantastic job. We just await the tree. And I'm not allowed to get it until about two weeks before the big day. Why? Because they only last about two weeks before they start throwing needles faster than a Vancouver methadone clinic. So I'll wait.

And yeah, Neomom has fed her Christmas addiction, once again, with the purchase of one or two of those battery-powered goofy, gimmicky season-based toys. Don't know how else to describe them.

But every year, while we're out Christmas shopping, we inevitably separate. But from a few aisles over, I'll hear a tinny, computer generated voice, or music and then I'll hear Neomom laughing her head off.

No exception this year. Kissing penguins. Cute the first few times, but quickly loses its charm on the 4 or 500th time you hear it, as the kids just can't leave it alone. But check it out and, if you'd like to see what I mean, play it 500 times.

And when you add this one to the 8 or so others, all making their noises, well . . .

Have a great Thursday.

Superman to Dad o' Kitchen

2010-12-01T07:30:00.000-06:00

A while ago, I wrote about Sonwun's obsession with Superheroes. Specifically, he'd latched on to the Justice League and, naturally, had renamed the family. He had decided that he was Batman, "the gweatest Superhero ever."

I, of course, was dubbed Superman, while Neomom picked up the title of Batgirl and Sontoo was renamed Robin. (At Halloween, however, Sontoo renamed himself "Robinson" as it apparently seemed more appropriate.)

Now, that being said, we have a new obsession in the house and we have all, once again, been renamed.

This time, it's Sontoo. And he's addicted to the Disney movie Cars. He could literally watch it over and over 24 hours a day if we let him.

So, Sontoo is introducing himself to the world as Sontoo McQueen, the World Famous Race Car. Honest. At the doctor's office yesterday, an older gentleman in the waiting room asked him his name. "I'm Sontoo McQueen, the World Famous Race car," he replied, very seriously. Always gets a smile.

I have picked up the title of Dad Doc Hudson. When he says it, however, it sounds like Dad o' Kitchen. Either one works, I guess. Doc Hudson, in the movie, is the once-great race car, now a cantankerous old fart, judge and doctor. I guess I can live with that. As for Dad o' Kitchen, well, I do make some mean pancakes.

Neomom is Momma Sally. Again, it works. The Sally car in the movie is the beautiful, intelligent little Porsche lawyer and hotel owner.

Now, there is a little controversy when it comes to Sonwun. Sontoo has decided he's Tow Mater, the backwoods, gap-toothed, tractor-tipping goofball (played by Larry the Cable Guy). But to his credit, he's also a loyal friend. I choose to think that is why Sontoo labelled Sonwun as such.

This particular naming, however, has led to a number of arguments at the dinner table, all reminiscent of the "Tastes Great/Less Filling" debate of the 80s.

"I'm McQueen, the famous race car."

"No you're not, I'm McQueen."

"I'm McQueen, the famous race car."

"No you're not, I'm McQueen."

"I'm McQueen, the famous race car."

"No you're not, I'm McQueen."

Lather, rinse, repeat ad nauseum.

This, I know, will pass. And I gotta admit, I kind of enjoy the roles my boys assign to me. I mean, c'mon, I've been Superman and now I'm a judge, a doctor and one of the most famous and successful race cars in Piston Cup history.

Who could ask for more?

Happy December, Happy Wednesday!

It begins

2010-11-30T06:29:00.002-06:00

Well, good morning. And a happy Last Day of November to ya!

The silly season is well under way. Black Friday, Cyber Monday . . . marketing madness and suckers lining up to take advantage of the "deals." Merry Christmas.

Here in Portage, it's cold and it's snowy. That's more my kinda Christmas vision. And last night after supper we loaded pajama-clad Sonwun and Sontoo into the mini van of joy and headed for Island Park to see the lights.

As this is our first Christmas here, we were anxious to see this spectacle, touted as "Manitoba's longest running drive through light show," and "a winner of numerous provincial and national tourism awards."

Well who could turn that down?

Now we made one mistake here. En route to the longest running drive-through light show, Neomom's attention was captured by a giant candycane. "Turn here," she ordered. And, against my better judgment, I did.

And one turn later, we found ourselves on a street apparently inhabited by distant Griswold relatives. Four or five houses, it seemed, were competing for the highest electric bill in Manitoba, perhaps beyond. But WOW! The displays were truly awesome and I regret not having my camera and tripod at hand. Maybe I'll sneak back one night this week when the wind is down.

Anyhoo, after that, the "winner of numerous provincial and national tourism awards" was nice, but it paled a little by comparison. Don't get me wrong, it was well done. But it was apparent that many of the light displays were from years gone by. Many were also new and spectacular and overall it was a good time for the boys.

One criticism for the operators of the Island of Lights . . . don't tell me to tune my radio to a certain station, in order to get the maximum effect, if that radio station doesn't come in worth a crap while I drive around the island. I mean, I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas loses a little of its charm when it keeps cutting out and being replaced by a radio station playing Highway to Hell. Just sayin'

That being said, if you've got young 'uns and you're in the neighbourhood, it's worth the five bucks. It took us about 20 minutes to drive through the Island of Lights and see all there was to see. And most of it was pretty good. But while you're here in Portage, you should also check out the Griswolds. They're in the Koko Platz neighbourhood. Can't remember the name of the street, but just drive around a while, follow the bright lights in the sky and you'll find them. And they're free!

Happy Tuesday everyone, and welcome to the Christmas season!

Frustrating Day

2010-11-11T06:38:00.001-06:00

Well, yesterday was a frustrating day. Had big plans for cleaning out the garage, building shelves, organizing . . .

And whilst I was doing that, the nice man from Bell Satellite TV would install the stuff necessary for my evening entertainment. Hell's Kitchen was on last night, and I was kinda looking forward to, if not seeing it, at least recording it for later viewing pleasure.

Now I've been a patient guy. My original date for the completion of the promised "smooth transfer" of my Bell services, was last Wednesday. But, as you know, my receivers and television were on a truck somewhere between here and Churchhill at that time. As such, I was told the friendly and helpful Bell installer would not come to the house, and I would have to wait one week.

Fair enough.

So yesterday, with my television and receiver firmly in place, I awaited the installer, who arrived a little later than expected. Fair enough. We're all busy.

A few things here you might not know about the "smooth transfer" of your satellite service with Bell. First off, the installer is apparently not allowed to set foot on your roof. Too dangerous. So if your dish is not near the edge or your roof, you may be expected to help out a little, if you want satellite service.

Second, your installer is allowed to drill one hole for free. Then he will charge you for any additional holes that need to be drilled to facilitate installation of the necessary cables in your home. Interesting.

Oh, and if you have any illusions about the cables being hidden in the walls, exiting at appropriate places with nice, neat face plates, forget about it. I was told that if you want that kind of thing, you need to hire an electrician prior to the arrival of your Bell installer whose job, apparently is to then screw the cable into the dish.

Anyhoo, back to yesterday. Behind the new house, two of my neighbours to the south have very tall poplar trees. These things are apparently directly in the path that leads from my satellite dish to the Bell satellite in space. As such, I can not get sufficient signal strength for a proper installation. (And that's without any leaves on the tree. Leaves, the installer told me, make things even worse!)

My installer friend discovered this by hooking up a small computer to the dish to gauge signal strength. He didn't need my TV or receiver to do it. My installer friend also told me that, maybe, if the dish was on the peak of the roof at the other end of the house, we might get a stronger, adequate signal. He was skeptical, as the trees in that sight line were even taller than the current ones. But, as he's not allowed to set foot on the roof, he couldn't really check it out.

He then suggested I talk to my new neighbour about, perhaps, lopping 20 or so feet off the top of a couple of his 80-foot poplars. Um, yeah.

Or maybe I could install a pole somewhere that would be tall enough to put the satellite dish in a position to see over those trees. Bell doesn't do that, nor does it manufacture or supply said pole, I was told. I'd have to do it, dig a trench for the cable and then set up another appointment for the installer to come back and hook it all up.

So . . . the installer left. I'm stuck with a useless Bell HDPVR, and another useless Bell HD receiver, both purchased in the last year and a half. I'm not happy about it.

So I call Bell customer service. No, they won't buy the receivers back. But hey, Bell, in its infinite graciousness, has waived the 30-day penalty for cancelling my service. Wow! The helpful customer service rep informed me that she would cancel the service, effective yesterday and I would receive a refund for the remainder of the month.

Um . . . wait a minute. I haven't had service since Nov. 1, when I moved out of the home in Thompson. What exactly am I paying for? Sorry, I was told, but I'd still have to cough up the dough for those 10 days.

I will admit, I became somewhat indignant. But I explained that, as I have not had access to the service for those 10 days, and as I had an appointment for installation a week ago, and as Bell was unable to supply service now, there was not a snowball's chance in hell I would be paying for those 10 days. After a little discussion, the customer service rep agreed.

She then told me that she and a supervisor had looked over the report from the friendly installer that came to my home, and they'd determined he might have done some things incorrectly. And maybe, just maybe, a more senior installer could still make this work.

She asked me what would be a convenient time for the senior installer to come out and have a look.

"Today," I replied.

Well, she said, the first available time is a week from today, next Wednesday.

So, we finished up our conversation, and I started looking at options. MTS TV, Shaw cable, Shaw satellite.

And, to make this long story just a tad shorter, I found Shaw satellite (whose satellite in space is in a more convenient, treeless direction) has a better deal anyway. So the Shaw guys are coming out tomorrow to install my new service. And once that's up and running, I will contact Bell, tell them to give the senior installer a rest and then put my receivers up for sale.

All of this, by the way, took up the better part of my day. Thus, my big plans for today include cleaning out the garage, building shelves, organizing and pausing at 11 a.m. to Remember . . .

Have a great Remembrance Day.

(Oh, and if you know anyone who's looking for a Bell HDPVR, let me know)

Brain Vomit

2010-10-31T03:41:00.002-05:00

Well good morning.

It's 3:40 in the blessed a.m. and I am awake . . . yet again.

But it's all good. I'm in the lobby of the Canad Inns Portage La Prairie. I am no longer in Thompson.

After a whirlwind month of selling the house in Thompson, travelling to Portage and buying a new house here, returning to Thompson and packing up, we're back here to stay. And so far it feels pretty good.

This is part of the RCMP lifestyle, I suppose. And it takes some getting used to. But we're getting there.

So, a theme for today . . . I don't know. So much has happened in the last six months and yeah, I know I haven't been writing. And I guess it's because I haven't really been at peace. Life had, and has, been turned if not upside down, at least a little off kilter.

I write best when I'm at peace, or when something really ticks me off. (I was gonna say p*sses me off, but the parental controls on this hotel computer are really touchy).

Anyhoo, leaving Thompson yesterday was bittersweet. It's nice to be leaving, but we had to say goodbye to the best neighbours, best friends, we've met since we began this little RCMP adventure. If you happen to be reading this, you know who you are. We miss you already.

But Thompson, MB, was not our favourite post, for a number of reasons. The isolation, the taxes, the generally depressing atmosphere . . . I could and probably will write more later. This post, my friends, is more about clearing my head. Which is why there really is no theme today. My brain needs to vomit and I just need to write.

So, with that in mind, let's talk about in-car DVD players.

I was always one of those dads that preached against them. "Kids don't need that. Stifles the imagination, kills creativity, teaches them to be entertained and not to seek their own entertaintment, blah, blah, blah."

Yeah, to an extent, I still believe that. But on an 8-hour drive from Thompson, to Portage La Prairie, the "I Spy" game goes something like this:

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is green."

"Is it a tree?"

"Yeah Daddy! Your turn."

"Um, okay, I spy with my little eye, something that is . . . um . . . green."

"A tree! Okay, my turn . . . I spy with my little eye, something that is green."

Gets a little tedious after the first hour or so. And yeah, we've made that drive five or six times in the last year and a half. So I broke down and bought the DVD player for the final drive. My sleep bank was depleted, my patience thin . . . it was a good decision.

Sonwun and Sontoo enjoyed Toy Story, Toy Story 2 and Cars. And Daddy enjoyed 8 hours without a single fight and only a tiny bit of whining. Nice!

And the brain vomit just keeps coming . . .

As we planned the move, sold and bought houses, we tried our best to get possession dates to match. And we did. Nov. 1 is possession for the new owners in Thompson and possession for us here in Portage. We planned to pack up the house Friday, drive Saturday, spend two nights in the hotel and meet our worldly goods at the new house Monday. The RCMP likes this, according to the IRP (Integrated Relocation Policy). And so did we. But . . .

The best laid plans . . . On Friday, after about 80 per cent of our stuff was packed on the moving truck, I was chatting with the driver. And he told me that our stuff would not be arriving until Monday, the following Monday, Nov. 8. News to me. And not good news.

We'd packed for a weekend. Not a week. Neomom's work clothes were packed away on the moving truck, and she was expected to start work Wednesday. Yeah, we'd have a house, but very little to put in it for a week.

But we're gonna make the best of it. It's so much easier to paint an empty house, do those minor repairs and maybe build that fence in the back yard. Good plan, if I had my tools. But I don't. They are, to the best of my understanding, somewhere between here and Churchhill, MB, on a truck, with everything else.

But hey, we're in a nice hotel, with a nice pool and waterslide for the boys and we'll probably get some painting done, as brushes and rollers are relatively inexpensive. The fence will just have to wait.

Oh, and did I mention that sister in law and her manfriend (are we getting too old for boyfriend?) will be arriving Wednesday? Yeah, we kinda figured on having a house set up for the arrival, you know, complete with a table and chairs for eating. Now? Well, we'll just play this one by ear. Be nice to see them regardless. Hope they don't mind camping out on the floor too much.

Well, Neomom's up and has joined me at the hotel computer in the lobby. So I must go now. Will write more later. So much stuffed into my head that needs to flow out through my fingers.

Later. And Happy Sunday!!

Sleep and the Band Aid

2010-10-15T05:08:00.000-05:00

Oh, I wish I could sleep a little more. Should try to go back to bed right now, but I know my head will just keep swimming in a sea of plans, responsibilities, what ifs . . .

Hello all. Been a while, once again. I know. So let's catch up.

First off, we're being transferred out of Thompson, Manitoba. We're moving 8 hours south to Portage La Prairie, Manitoba. This morning in Thompson it is -1C. In Portage, it's +3. So much warmer down south.

Sold the house in Thompson, officially, last night. But here's the catch. Possession date is November 1. So that means today I must book flights for the House Hunting Trip (HHT according to the RCMP IRP). Must catch said flight Sunday morning and begin house hunting Monday.

If all goes well, we will have purchased a new home by Friday, fly home Saturday and then there are four days until the movers arrive to pack everything up.

In the meantime, we must satisfy all paperwork requirements of the RCMP IRP (Integrated Relocation Program), contact service providers such as gas, electricity, satellite, telephone, internet, mail and everyone who mails things to us. Where's that list??

Must close down life in Thompson, begin new life in Portage. It's daunting, I admit, at the best of times. But to pull it all off in a couple of weeks . . .

It's like a giant band-aid and we're gonna thoroughly test the "rip it off quick" theory. More intense pain, but for a shorter period of time.

Must pull Sonwun from Kindergarten, register him in Kindergarten.

Must empty all gas from gas-powered tools (snowblower, rototiller, lawn mower) for the move.

Must pack for HHT.

Must pack for move. Must make 8-hour drive with two kids, cat and dog.

Must say good-bye to best neighbours we've ever had.

Must meet with mover.

Must find home for dog and cat while on HHT.

Must not go insane.

Sleep would help. Need sleep. Should go back to bed right n . . . .

What happens if . . .?

2010-08-24T05:59:00.001-05:00

So Sonwun wanders into the kitchen the other day. His eyes are full of tears. He's sobbing and he's carrying his Wii wheel.

Yeah, it's been raining a lot the past week or so here in Thompson, so he's been polishing his Mario Kart skills a little more than I'd like to see. But, to be honest, the video games have given me a peek inside his little mind. And I'm fascinated.

He's sobbing because he erased his driver's licence and lost all of his medals. This is a big problem because I have no idea how he did it, or if it's fixable. So I ask him what he did. And, without missing a beat, he takes me through a series of menus in Mario Kart that ends with a button that says "Erase Licence."

I had no idea it was there and if you asked me today, I'm not sure I could find it again. But he could. Even though he can't read yet, he recognizes the shapes and colours of the different buttons and retains the patterns in his head. It is actually kind of amazing.

Anyhoo, turns out this is not fixable so he must start again. Lesson learned, I hope.

Now this got me to thinking. As a parent, I often ask this 4-year-old the typical, probably stupid, question that all parents seem to ask of their children at some point . . . "What were you thinking??"

I mean, when you hear laughter from the dining room table and enter the room to find the dog and walls covered in yogurt, what else can you say? "What were you thinking??!!"

When he winds up with his plastic baseball bat and takes careful aim at his younger brother's head, you gotta ask. When you see him walking toward the electrical outlet with a fork, you gotta ask. And when you see him hauling his tricycle to the top of the slide, and then standing on the seat at the top, you gotta ask.

But Mario has given me the answer. Sonwun is thinking the same thing he is always thinking: "What happens if . . .?"

It is his mantra, his philosophy, his raison d'être. It is the way he learns.

And you can see it in Mario Kart. While I'm content to race around the track, Sonwun is always bumping into walls, driving off the course, painting outside the lines, if you will. Why? Because he wants to know what happens if . . .

And I'll tell you what happens. He finds shortcuts, secret places and boosts that give him an edge over me. He learns, he gets better and he teaches me things.

Sonwun is teaching me, for example, that his philosophy is a good one. It makes life interesting. Honestly, how boring is your life if you stop asking the question? Is that when you stop living and start the slow march to the big dirt nap?

The world, to Sonwun, is new and fascinating. I am watching him and I can see that every day he craves new experiences, new answers to the same question. What happens if . . .?

In the adult world, in business, in the board room, in the lab, we call this Thinking Outside the Box and we revere those who are good at it. They are the business leaders, the great artists, the ones finding cures for disease. But they're only doing what my 4-year-old son is doing. What happens if . . .?

So yeah, it begins with Mario Kart. Sometimes you erase your driver's licence, sometimes you find a shortcut. But you keep trying, you keep driving where you "shouldn't," and you keep asking yourself, What happens if . . .?

It's a great philosophy.

Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo!

2010-08-22T07:39:00.001-05:00

It always starts with something small.

I know this because I've read "Because a Little Bug Went Ka-choo!" to my boys. It starts, as expected, with a little bug sneezing. That little sneeze puts into motion a chain of events that sees, among other things, a chicken getting wet, a turtle falling into a lake, a farmer having a bucket land on his head and a boat almost sinking. It ends with that boat flying into town and disrupting a circus parade. Read it to your kids, you'll see. Good book.

And I know this because, in my first home, I tried to recaulk the bathtub. And it ended with an entire bathroom renovation, complete with a brand new toilet, as I put the hammer through the old one while removing baseboard.

Anyhoo, this time around, it began with Sonwun finding a tiny flaw in the wallpaper. He chose to make it a little less tiny. Some would say huge.

And so, while bargain hunting one Saturday morning, Neomom found a couple of gallons of the perfect colour of paint needed to replace said flawed wallpaper. Great! For about $20, we could fix this unsightly problem and life would be good.

But, as is often the case with a 60-year-old house, those that have done renovations over the years have not always had the skill, or desire to do them properly. And a little bug went ka-choo!

So we peeled off the old wallpaper. We found few flaws in the wall that, apparently, those that installed the wallpaper, were trying to hide. No big problem. Nothing a $10 bucket of drywall compound and a few hours of work couldn't fix.

Oh, and the wallpaper went behind the door trim, so we had to pull that off. It's old, it's chipped and, if we're gonna do the job right, it should be replaced. A few more dollars for new trim . . . and a bucket of white paint to paint it. (Not on sale).

And then Neomom noticed that, you know, with the new colour in the stairwell leading to the rec room, if we painted the one wall down there with the new paint (hey, we had 2 gallons, why not!) it would look so much nicer. (A new roller or two, a little tape, no big deal).

And so we did. We pulled that baseboard off the wall, in order to paint it properly, and, in the process, decided it too should be replaced. But not just on that wall. I mean it has to match the rest of the room and the previous renovators had used door casing as baseboard anyway . . . so . . . 100 feet of baseboard . . . a few more dollars. And a little bug went ka-choo!

Meanwhile, upstairs at the original wall, I had removed the door, which has 21 lovely glass panes in it, and leaned it up in the mudroom while I worked on the door frame and trim.

Now, the good news here is Sontoo did not get hurt. But he did find the door and decided it shouldn't be leaning against the mirrored closet doors in the mudroom. So he pushed it over.

More good news here. Not one of the 21 panes of glass in the door was broken. The mirrored closet doors, however, shattered as the falling door bounced up into them. Sooo . . . $200 to replace the mirrored closet doors.

Now, we're still in the middle of this little project and praying we've found the last of the surprises. My next purchase will be a little antihistamine for that freakin' bug.

I hope to put the door back in place this morning, which will, knock wood, eliminate the chances of it getting knocked through something else of value.

I also hope to paint the last of the 100 feet of baseboard in the garage today and install it in the rec room early next week.

"And that's how it happened. Believe me. It's true. Because . . . just because . . . a small bug went ka-choo!

A Matter of Perspective

2010-08-21T06:23:00.004-05:00

To me, it was the most craptacular, run-down, unsightly, depressing excuse for a carnival I've ever seen.

To Sonwun and Sontoo, it was "the bestest thing ever!!"

It's all a matter of perspective.

Last night, we loaded up the mini-van o' fun and headed to the parking lot at the big mall in Thompson. The carnival was in town! Rides, games and the most unhealthy food too much money can buy! Wahooooo!

But it's about the kids, right? They haven't seen too many carnivals (thank goodness) so the lights, the rides and the cotton candy all came together in a sugar-fuelled evening of spectacular fun.

The boats, at least, looked like boats!

We started off small, with the Boat Ride. You know, a dozen little boats on a track that the young-uns sit in and pretend to steer while going in circles. They enjoyed it, and it only cost me three tickets per child ($5.10 in total).

Roller coaster fun!

And then it was the mini roller-coaster. Bigger fun, more tickets. ($6.80 total). They really liked that one. Sure, it was depressing to me. I mean, the little cars looked like they were made in metal shop at the high school, about 50 years ago. Not kidding. I mean, the carnivals I've been to in the past at least try to make the mini-coaster look like something . . . a dragon, clown cars . . . SOMETHING.

But these things were little metal boxes, powered by a visible electric motor, tethered by an electric cord to a power source in the middle of the circuit.

Did the boys care? Hell no! It was a ride, it went up and down, it went "fast" and it lasted long enough for the carny to enjoy a full cigarette. It was awesomeness incarnate.

The Swing! Sonwun said it was the most fun!

The sights! The sounds! The smells! We wandered about for a while, carefully dodging the puke piles on the pavement, that no one seemed too concerned about cleaning up. We stopped to watch as a carny splashed several buckets of water into the "Salt and Pepper Shaker" ride, to wash out the puke left by a rather green rider.

We bought a couple of slushies, some candy apples, a dozen mini donuts and a bag of cotton candy. The supper of champions!

All in all, the boys had a blast! And the smiles were more than worth the roughly $60 I dropped for this entertainment.

But all good things must come to an end. And so, still vibrating on the sugar-filled festivities, we headed back to the mini van o' fun . . . only to discover someone (not mentioning any names Neomom) had locked the keys inside.

No big deal, the boys had enough sugar on board to walk to Winnipeg. Home is much closer.

So we walked home and discovered we'd locked it up tight, necessitating a little break-and-enter: a perfect end to a night of fun in Thompson!

"The bestest thing ever!"

Diaper-Free Days ahead . . .

2010-08-10T08:50:00.001-05:00

Ah, potty training. I forgot just how interesting it can be.

But I must say, Sontoo is doing very, very well. And why wouldn't he? He wants to do what Sonwun does at all times. And that includes the potty action.

We've been following the same program we used for Sonwun. We introduced the concept with Alyssa Satin Capucilli's book, "The Potty Book for boys," about a week ago. Worked for Sonwun, why not Sontoo?

The first couple of days were a little slow. He peed freely in his new "big boy" undies and did not seem too concerned about it. But on Thursday, we had our first success. And we celebrated like he'd cured cancer. High fives all around, hugs, excited talk and a few M&Ms for the effort. He liked that.

And things have gone well ever since.

Yesterday we enjoyed our first accident-free day. This morning, he woke up with a dry diaper (yeah, we still put him in a diaper for sleeping) and made for the potty first thing.

And, after he'd had breakfast this morning, he dropped a deuce in the potty and was very excited to share the news. Gotta say it ain't easy to leave a nice warm plate of bacon and eggs to go and view his work. But he insisted, of course, and I put down the fork to go and appreciate his "gift," and join in the celebratory dance.

(I'll spare you a picture of this event. Although Sontoo would certainly want one posted. You're welcome.)

Wasn't easy to go back for breakfast after that, but it's the price you pay, for never having to buy diapers again.

Neomom is already re-arranging his room, in her mind, sans change table. That will be a good day.

Anyhoo, that's the excitement in Thompson this morning.

Have a great Tuesday!

Ospwagan

2010-08-08T06:49:00.003-05:00

Sunday . . . weather looks good . . . Ospwagan Lake beckons.

But first, a few updates. Sonwun had his cast removed Friday. YAY! The bone appears to have healed properly and he can now fully enjoy the little pool in the back yard, his bicycle and the beach. These are a few of his favourite things.

I was proud of him. When we went to the hospital, we discovered the saw they use to cut the cast was old and extremely noisy. This can be a little terrifying for a four-year-old. I could see he was concerned with the process, but he did not pull away or protest. Makes a dad proud.

Sontoo is also making his dad proud. After a stuttering start to the whole potty training festival, he seems to be catching on to the game. He's letting us know when it's time and, last night, he had his first poop on the little chair. I see diaper-free days in the near future and I like it!

Anyhoo, don't know if I mentioned it, but we've discovered a new place to play up here. Ospwagan Lake is about 10 minutes outside of town. It's big, it's beautiful and it's not as populated as Paint Lake Provincial Park.

It seems everyone in town goes to Paint Lake on the weekends. And fair enough. It's got a nice beach, a marina, camping, fire pits, a proper boat ramp and plenty of fish. But EVERYONE goes there.

When I fish, or hike, I like a little wilderness feel; a little solitude. Ospwagan offers these things, along with decent fishing and the chance for our dog to enjoy the water.

I'd kill for a canoe so that I could load up the family and explore more of the relatively untouched shoreline. Right now, we're kinda limited to what we can navigate on foot. Which is still great. The boys love wandering the rocky shoreline, looking for cool rocks and crayfish. I like casting from shore, but would love to get out a little deeper in search of bigger fish.

In time . . .

Anyhoo, Sonwun will enjoy his first day of cast-free adventure at Ospwagan today. Sontoo will enjoy peeing free in the great outdoors.

So that's the plan.

Have a great Sunday!

This week . . .

2010-08-05T09:05:00.002-05:00

Well, happy Thursday!

One more day until Sonwun gets his cast off. We're all looking forward to it.

While it hasn't slowed him down too much, Sonwun has been frustrated that he can't completely grip the monkey bars, or the handlebars on his little bike. And he hasn't been thrilled with the bag we've had to put on the arm for playing at the beach, or in the little pool in the back yard. One more day . . .

In other news, Sontoo has begun his potty training. The first two or three days have not gone well. He just isn't too concerned about peeing in his undies. He just lets things go and then announces, "I had a accident."

But this morning, we had our first success. After soiling three pairs of underwear, he found his way to the potty and let fly. We made a big fuss, gave him a little reward and he seemed genuinely excited with the success. So we'll see how that pans out.

Let's see, what else? Oh yeah, I got my Pleasure Craft Operator Card this week. And that means I'm allowed to do what I've been doing since I was 16: drive a pleasure craft on the water.

Can't say I'm too thrilled about having to get it. To me, it just seems like another tax, because that's what it is.

I had to read 8 "modules" covering everything from mandatory equipment for various boat sizes, to what a whole mess of buoys mean, depending on size, location and colour combination. Most of it was either obvious stuff I was well aware of (don't drink and boat, don't smoke while filling the gas tank, wear a lifejacket) or it was crap that will never likely mean anything to me, (such as which wind speed qualifies for a storm warning as opposed to a small craft advisory) as all of my boating takes place on inland lakes.

But, under the law now, I must have this little card that says I passed the little test.

So why do I see it as just another tax? Well, I completed it all on line, which suggests to me that the government doesn't take it all that seriously. Sure, I was required to have a "supervisor" watch me take the test and make sure I didn't cheat. The supervisor could not be a family member. My neighbour Dave stepped in.

The test consisted of 36 multiple choice questions and, having read all eight modules once over, it took me about four minutes to complete. I did not cheat.

The time allowed to take the test is 45 minutes. So, if someone wanted to cheat, this gives them plenty of time to look up the answers . . . easily. I mean, it's multiple choice. You either know the answer or you don't. And there's only 36 questions.

This tells me the government is more concerned with collecting the $40 or so dollars for the "lifetime" operator's card than it is with people actually knowing this vital material.

So the federal government got its cash, I got my licence. yay.

Anyhoo, that's been the week so far. I have another story, but I don't yet know how to tell it without offending anyone. I'll keep working on it.

Have a great day!

Change . . .

2010-07-29T09:02:00.001-05:00

Kindergarten has apparently changed quite a bit in the last 30 to 40 years. Yeah, I know, big surprise.

But I didn't think it had changed quite this much.

Got the list of school supplies Sonwun will need when he begins his academic career this fall. And yeah, some of it I expected. Some was a bit of a shock.

For example:
4 large glue sticks - Okay, makes sense. Of course when I went, we used that white glue, in jars, with brushes. I seem to recall it smelled like peppermint. And that one kid in every class, the "glue eater," said it tasted like peppermint too.

1 Large bottle of mucilage glue - is this the peppermint stuff? Never heard of mucilage glue. Must look that up on line . . . oh, cool. That's that translucent brown stuff with the rubber top. I remember that stuff. Some things never change I guess.

2 Boxes of Kleenex - Didn't have to bring that when I was a kid. But I guess the school boards don't pay for everything these days. Fair enough.

2 Boxes of Crayola Crayons (8 colours) - Um, okay. Again, that stuff was supplied when I went, but, whatever.

1 pkg washable markers - See above. And while we're at it, I'll include the "1 Pair of Strong Scissors" in the same category.

Okay, so that's a lot of the stuff I kind of expected to be buying. But . . .

4 Regular Duotangs
1 3-ring Binder
1 Notebook - half lines, half blank
2 two-pocket Duotangs for reading logs
1 Scrapbook, 30 sheets with coil binding
1 Copy Plato's Republic

Okay, I made up the last one. But seriously, how much research and report-writing are these kids going to be doing that they need Duotangs and Binders?? Or are these supplies for the teacher? I almost hope so.

I can't imagine a room full of 5-year-olds playing with three-ring binders. Unless they've changed the design over the last couple of decades, I seem to recall these things can be real finger pinchers . . . even in high school.

And Duotangs? Really? I hated those things. How long is it going to take a 5-year-old to undo one, load paper and re-close?

Seriously, I have no idea why they need these things, but I'm trying to keep an open mind; wait and see.

And ya know, having read the news daily over the last few decades, I was surprised at some of the items that are missing from the list. I mean, I was kind of expecting to see "Anatomically Correct Dolls, Male and Female" for the sex ed class.
1 Copy of "Miss Vera's Finishing School for Boys Who Want to be Girls" for the Social Engineering Class.
1 Copy of "NO ONE NEEDS A PENIS!" for the discussion following the field trip to the radical wing of the Women's Directorate headquarters.
1 Copy of "Your Sunday School Teacher's a Liar" for the religious studies class.

Okay, so maybe the news reports were a little more alarming than necessary. Or maybe they're saving this for Grade 1. Who knows?

All I know is that things have changed. Gonna be a challenge to keep up and only one more month to prepare myself.

Wish me luck and have a great Thursday!

First time at The Theatre

2010-07-22T06:41:00.002-05:00

So . . . we went out to see a movie last night. It has been a long, long time.

Given our locations, and the age of our children over the last several years, a trip to the theatre has never been in the cards. Not that I'm complaining.

I lost my enthusiasm for the theatre right around the time tickets headed over the $8 mark and popcorn started selling for $5 a box. (And that was a while ago). It was around that time, as well, that it felt like movie theatres were bent on destroying my hearing. And movie makers, it seems, collectively decided that dialogue should be kept at the lowest decibel levels, setting you up for the sound of a, oh, I don't know, a door opening, at the highest decibel levels, right up there with car chases and gunfire. It just felt like an assault.

I much prefer the sharp screen on my TV, where I control the volume and eat much, much cheaper popcorn.

But, the theatre is an experience, and life is made up of experiences

So, when Toy Story 3 hit the Strand Theatre in Thompson, I felt it was time for the boys to expand their viewing resume.

Now, I should point out that The Strand is located in the worst part of Thompson, in what appears to be a run-down row of attached buildings that includes a homeless shelter, bar, restaurant and a few other places that I'd rather not take Sonwun and Sontoo.

But we asked around and we were told it wasn't all that bad. Hmmmm.

Sontoo, at 2.5 years of age, is a big fan of the Toy Story saga. On rainy days, when I need a little quiet, I can count on two hours of silence if I pop in Toy Story 2. He plays with his Woody and Buzz action figures regularly and, sometimes in the morning, the first sound I hear from his bedroom is a small voice proclaiming "There's a snake in my boot."

But show time was 7:30, about half an hour past his bedtime. Wasn't sure he'd make it through. Decided to risk it.

Sonwun, on the other hand, prefers his Batman, Superman, Wonderwoman, Flash movies. But he did enjoy the Toy Story movies for one or two viewings each. I was pretty sure he'd be up for number 3.

Anyhoo, The Strand was like stepping back in time, to the Lincoln Theatre in St. Catharines where I saw my first movies.

It is not a multiplex kinda place. There's one theatre, one movie, seats and screen circa 1979.

For myself, Neomom and the boys, we paid $26 for tickets. $9.50 for popcorn and drinks. The movie started about 10 minutes late, which is something to consider when you're trying to keep young 'uns occupied right around bed time.

But overall, I was pleasantly surprised. The theatre was relatively clean, the staff was efficient and the boys loved the movie . . . mostly.

I loved having Sontoo sit on my lap for much of the screening (no choice as the spring, that pops the seat up when not in use, was too much for his little legs and he got folded into the chair a couple of times.)

He stayed awake for the entire movie and was kind enough to crash immediately upon returning home.

Sonwun, while he enjoyed the whole popcorn, root beer and "biggest TV ever" movie experience, was a little put off just a little by the scary monkey in the movie. I won't say much beyond that, in case you haven't seen it.

But I will say that, given the age bracket of the fan base, I don't think it was necessary. We'll leave it there.

Anyhoo, that was my night last night. No major complaints, good experience and a good night's sleep.

Happy Thursday!

Another Day

2010-07-17T06:07:00.002-05:00

Saturday . . .

Still feeling the post-family-visit blues. The house feels empty. Blah. On top of that, I checked my tickets and learned that I must once again put aside my plans for spending $50 million. Bummer.

Anyhoo, went in for the one-week check-up on Sonwun's broken wrist yesterday. All appears to be well and he got a nice new cast. He got to choose the colour and he went with blue.

Wow, times have changed. Didn't have all that many casts as a kid, but I never got to pick the colour. (There was only one - white) And it wasn't this fibreglass stuff either. Plaster as I recall. Probably easier to sign, but these ones today are just cool!

Not that it takes the all the sting out of being banned from deeper water during the summer months. But it helps a little.

The doctor, a nice enough guy, was very, very impressed with Neomom's home-made sling. She sewed it up shortly after Sonwun's return from the hospital last week. The sling provided was just a triangular piece of gauze, sorta tied together to form, at best, a crude sling. It didn't last long.

The original

But the doctor was so impressed with Neomom's creativity, that he showed everyone he could find the ER.

Neomom at Work

And he suggested she make a few more for them to have on hand for other kids who find themselves in Sonwun's shoes. Not gonna happen, but it was a nice compliment.

Much Better

So no big plans for the day. Probably do a little garage saling (saleing?), pulling 70 pounds of children in the bike trailer. We rarely actually make a purchase, but it's good exercise and the kids seem to like poking around in other people's stuff. So it's all good.

Happy weekend!

Hangover

2010-07-16T08:37:00.002-05:00

Feeling like I have a big hangover this morning. No drinking last night, but it just feels bad.

Aunt Nizzie, Uncle Davey and Grampa left yesterday morning. Dang! I'm gonna miss them.

It was so nice to have family around, even for a week. It's been too long. Neomom and I actually got out for an hour and a half, ALONE! That was cool.

"I miss Auntie Nizzie"

We took advantage of the time to go bike riding. And I gotta say, pulling 70+ pounds of children around in the bike trailer all summer has improved my leg strength and stamina. Riding up and down the hills ALONE was a breeze!

And sure, Sonwun has an injured wing, but it didn't stop him from strapping on a plastic bag for a little beach time, and it didn't slow him down at the bowling alley. He earned the "Best One-Armed Hook Shot" award, while Sontoo picked up the "Best Victory Dance" trophy. Uncle Dave earned the "High Speed" award, clocking his best throw at just over 53 kph.

Best Victory Dance

I played board games and Wii with adults. We laughed, mocked each other's play and reminisced about the old days. Really, really, really gonna miss it.

Just hangin' out

Even the dog is a little down in the mouth today. She had Luna, my sister's dog, to play with for a whole week. They wrestled on the deck for hours, ran around the yard and "fought" over toys. Today, she's just kinda lying there, wondering where her new friend went.

Ah well, life goes on.

Today, Sonwun must head back to the hospital to check on the healing progress. Don't expect any issues, but it's nice that they follow up. Other than that, bit of cleaning up to do and then, well, no big plans. Which I guess is part of the hangover. When family's here, you try to find things to do every day. Go fishing, go bowling, go swimming, go for a walk, ride a bike . . .

A little beach time

So maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to learn. Treat every day like a family visit. Get out and enjoy the day. You only get 24 hours each day. Might as well take advantage of them.

Have a great Friday!

A broken arm does nothing to slow him down

Float like a hummingbird . . .

2010-07-12T07:20:00.001-05:00

So, this morning, Sonwun is sporting a cast, a lovely new sling thanks to Neomom and a black eye, courtesy of Sontoo.

It hasn't been a great weekend for him.

The cast on his arm is itchy. World class itchy. Stay-awake-half-the-night-tossing-and-turning-and-kicking-and-crying itchy.

Well, the first night it was anyway. Last night he got a better night's sleep and, thusly, so did I.

Yesterday, during a ride in the bicycle trailer, Sontoo delivered a headbutt that has left Sonwun's left eye swollen and bruised. No one saw exactly what happened but, according to Sonwun, it was a headbutt. The jury is still out on whether or not it was an intentional foul.

As for the broken arm, it has somewhat limited his normal activity. Bike riding is out. Swimming is out. Soccer is out. And that means he must find new ways to put his other arm in danger. While I am touting the benefits of Wii tennis and bowling, Sonwun is trying to figure out how to use the swing the back yard with one hand. He's trying to leap from the ottoman to the couch and land in such a way as to protect his wounded wing. And he's begging to go back to the playground: the scene of the crime. (I guess he really didn't want me to cut it down.)

I guess I wouldn't want it any other way. I mean, he's not letting this arm thing get the best of him or curtail his idea of what are permissible and prudent activities. Four-year-old's shouldn't be prudent. They should be pushing the limits at all times. Plenty of time left in life for playing it safe.

Anyhoo, plan today is to head off to Paint Lake and enjoy what is supposed to be a beautiful day. We will, of course be joined by Uncle Davey, Aunt Nizzie and Grampa, who arrived for their visit last Wednesday. Two days before my daredevil busted his wrist.

No, he won't be able to swim, but I'm sure he'll find plenty of rocks to climb on, places to run at full speed and plenty of playground equipment to swing, slide, leap and climb upon.

With a broken arm and a black eye, I am just hoping he doesn't add to his list of injuries today. I don't want to have to explain every bump, bruise and abrasion on the boy to a Child and Family Services employee. They're all legit mind you, 'cause he's a normal little boy. He's got the speed and energy of a hummingbird and the grace of a rhino. It's a recipe for disaster.

So, that's my weekend and my plan for the day.

Have yourselves a great week.

Another Milestone . . .

2010-07-10T05:29:00.001-05:00

Well, so much for swimming lessons and soccer games.

A trip to the playground yesterday evening ended with a trip to the hospital for Sonwun. And, in addition to the tooth that fell out last week, Sonwun can now add "first broken bone" to his list of milestones.

He, Aunt Nizzie, Sontoo and Neomom walked over to the school playground after supper last night, while Grampa, Uncle Dave and I stayed home. It was a relatively short trip. I was looking out the front window when I saw Neomom hustling across the lawn with Sonwun in her arms. I could see he was crying. That had to be trouble. He generally only cries for short periods of time when he gets minor injuries. The fact that he was still going strong, and was being carried, well, I knew it was something a little more serious.

Turns out my little daredevil had been pushing the limits, as is his way. He was trying to jump up off a platform and grab a wheel thingy that's probably a little more than six feet off the ground. Well, he caught just enough of it to swing his feet out from under him before he lost his grip and fell. He tried to break his fall with his left arm and, well, broke his left arm.

Fortunately, Uncle Dave is a Nurse Practitioner. He had a quick look and said that, well, yeah, it might be broken. So we loaded the boy into the van and headed for the hospital. The ER was packed. But apparently 4.5-year-olds with possible fractures do get bumped up the list and we were in in no time.

And once we found a comfortable position for the arm, he began to calm down. And, in the process, found his way to anger. He told me through his tears that this particular piece of playground equipment was "naughty" and made me promise to go and cut it down "forever!"

And while it was kinda cute, it was the only part of this process that really surprised me. I wasn't expecting this level of anger, mostly because I'd never seen it from him before. But we talked our way through it and shifted the conversation away from the fall.

We talked about the "cool pictures" the doctor would take of his arm bone and how he might even get a cast. Uncle Dave and I explained the long and proud tradition of broken bones in the family and the nurse promised him a popsicle.

By the time we were ready to head to x-ray, he was so calm and cool that I began to believe it was just a sprain. Wrong!

It was a buckle fracture of the wrist. Certainly not the worst kind of fracture, but bad enough that he will be wearing a fibreglass splint/cast combo for the next several weeks.

All in all, it took about 2 hours at the ER, which is pretty good. Last night he slept fairly well. And, as I write this at 5:20 a.m., he is still sleeping.

As for me, I am gonna make a quick run to Tim Horton's, grab an extra large and then head over to the playground with my hacksaw before the world wakes up. After all, a promise is a promise.

Have a great weekend.

A little Catching Up

2010-07-06T07:54:00.001-05:00

Well, happy Tuesday.

The family made it from Kelowna BC to Strathmore, Alberta yesterday. I think Saskatoon, Saskatchewan is the goal for today. My goal is to complete the deck, do some grocery shopping and then get some cleaning done. Wooohooo!

(I know I said the deck was done about a month ago, but that was just the deck part. The railings have been sitting quietly on my Honey-do List ever since.)

So, what has happened in the last few weeks, you ask? Well, Sonwun graduated from preschool, with entirely too much pomp and ceremony. But I guess that's what they do these days. Yeah, it's kinda cute and all with the little paper grad hats and stuff, but I mean, it's preschool.

Not only was there a ceremony, to which all parents were invited, but there was an end-of-school barbecue as well. I was away for that, but Neomom managed to get some pictures and video.

I was here, however, for another major milestone in Sonwun's existence. He lost his first tooth about a week and a half ago. He almost swallowed it during breakfast, so I had the distinct pleasure of searching through a handful of chewed Cheerios for the prize. Found it. I guess that beats going through a handful of "completely processed food" searching for a tooth. So I'm counting my blessings.

As you can see below . . . he was pretty excited.

Anyhoo, I got up late this morning (6 a.m.) and have much to do. But I didn't want to skip the blog. Must get back in shape, back in the habit of writing a little each day. I will try to get another picture or two of the deck progress today and, hopefully, post them tomorrow. Not making any promises, just expressing my hope.

So you all have yourselves a great day. Supposed to rain here today, but it's welcome. It's been dry for about a month. If it would just be so kind as to give me a window of about 4 hours, I can get my deck work done. Cross your fingers.

Cheers.

Hello Again

2010-07-05T05:14:00.000-05:00

Well, what can I say. It's been a while, once again.

Much has happened in the last few weeks, but I won't bore you with all the details. But, in brief, I lost a friend a few weeks back in a car accident. Evan was too young, at 20. He and his family were among the first to welcome us to Gimli back in 2001, when we arrived. He was 12 at the time and I watched him grow up in this small town, where everyone knows everyone. He went from batboy and spectator to player on the slo-pitch team his father and I played on. He went from school boy to working man at the local grocery store. He went from trying to sneak into the bar I worked at, to walking in legitimately. And through it all, this kid had an omnipresent smile that he shared with one and all.

I still feel sick for his family— a really great group of friendly, outgoing people. He came by his smile and sense of humour honestly.

About a week later, my mother's husband passed away. Elvin was one of the most easy-going, friendly guys you'd want to meet. I am happy that I was able to enjoy one of our shared passions, fishing, at least once in the time we knew each other. We spent a week together a year or two back, fishing the Winnipeg River near Kenora. It was a good week and my first real opportunity to get to know him. He will be missed.

But I'm back and, I hope, will continue where I left off in my life as a stay-at-home dad.

So, it's Monday morning. The boys are still asleep, as is Neomom. I'm half an hour away from my morning treadmill run.

I'm also anticipating the arrival of my brother, sister and father. They are driving in from Kelowna, BC, leaving this morning. Should take a few days. Sonwun is very, very excited about them coming and asks each morning if they will arrive "this day."

He has big plans for them. They need to see his room, they need to go swimming, they need to see him play soccer and they need to go bowling with him. And that's the abbreviated list.

This morning, it's swimming lessons for Sonwun and then soccer tonight, weather permitting.

Anyhoo, that's all I've got this morning. I hope to resume my regularly scheduled blogging in the coming weeks. I miss the writing and the feedback.

Have a great day!

Tim Hortons Rocks!

2010-06-01T07:07:00.000-05:00

Well, happy June 1!

Eight years ago today, I married my wife. So happy anniversary to us!

First off, I know I haven't written in a while. And, if this was truly a great blog, I would explain it all. But it isn't, and I won't. Been some rough times and there is still some rough stuff ahead.

Truly great writing, be it blogging or a newspaper column, is wide open. The writer will open up and cover everything, no punches pulled, no holds barred. I'm not there yet. Some things I still want to keep to myself. Greatness will have to wait.

But I digress.

Started a new fatherhood phase last night . . . that of co-soccer-coach. Sonwun has officially entered the organized sports world. And last night the Dutchies went head-to-head with the Pumpkin Spices in 40 minutes of end-to-end action at the Juniper School soccer field.

And yeah, I think our team of orange-coloured sports stars picked up the worst name in the league. Pumpkin Spices?? Really? Of all the donuts in the Tim Hortons franchise, why did it have to be the Pumpkin Spices. I mean how do you cheer that one on? GO PUMPKIN SPICES!! Ugh.

I mean GO DUTCHIES, at least sounds kind of cool. Or GO KRUELLERS!

Oh well. I think the poor Honey Dips have it almost as bad as we do. GO HONEY DIPS!! Yeah, that's not easy to shout from the sidelines.

Anyhoo, the Dutchies started slow, but came on strong in the end to win a decisive victory over Pumpkin Spice.

The game itself was fun to watch. Doesn't really resemble soccer. More of a clump of children moving about a field, legs and arms flying and, occasionally, a soccer ball pops out of the clump, followed by the biggest kid who manages to run down the field toward (hopefully) the OPPOSING goal.

The clump follows and sooner or later swallows the ball once again. Lather, rinse, repeat for 40 minutes.

And, in spite of the team names, I have to give a whole lot of credit to the good folks at Tim Hortons. They supply the shirts, medals and some of the other promotional stuff to make the league run. And they do it for, at least, all of northwestern Ontario, Manitoba and Saskatchewan. That, in my opinion, is a fantastic way to spend marketing dollars. It will inspire me to buy at Timmies in a way that an expensive television commercial never will.

And the best part? On the inside, front of his pumpkin-coloured soccer jersey, down at the bottom, is written "I just played. I'm thirsty."

And, in keeping with Tim Hortons "Roll Up the Rim" promotion, when Sonwun enters the local Timmies after a game, he just has to roll up the front of his jersey, show the secret code, and he gets a free soft drink, or milk, or hot chocolate. And that's after EVERY game.

That's just cool and I have to give Tim Hortons a world of credit for it. Thank you! Well done!

Anyhoo, it's Tuesday. Preschool day, swimming lessons and a whole lot of yard work.

Have a great day!

Kindergarten Prep

2010-05-15T07:15:00.000-05:00

Well, Saturday was a busy day.

And it's setting us up for a busy summer. First stop was the sports store in town, to buy Sonwun the mandatory equipment for his journey through his first season with the Thompson Junior Soccer Association. Cleats, shin pads and soccer socks are all apparently necessary for a four-year-old. All righty then.

Next stop was the pool. Signed the boy up for more swimming lessons. He's still a Salamander but we are confident that he will be, at the very least, a Sunfish by the end of the season. Who knows, maybe he's even Crocodile material. Only time will tell.

Final stop was the school, where I picked up registration forms for Kindergarten. A few surprises here.

First off, at this school, Kindergarten is an all-day thing. When I attended, it was a half-day thing and, apparently, it's a half-day thing at most schools here in Thompson. But the school in our neighbourhood, is part of a "pilot project" that I assume is designed to see if teachers can squeeze another half-day's pay out of the system.

For Sonwun, I don't foresee any problems with this. He loves preschool and I'm sure he's gonna love the big K as well.

Now, the application form. Interesting piece of paper. Clearly, it's been designed to attempt to cover all of the parental/guardianship colours in the ever-growing rainbow of child rearing fun.

I'm not going to get into all of the questions, but I'm, I don't know, perplexed, saddened I guess, that this reality is so clearly reflected in a Kindergarten registration form. Not saying it shouldn't be. Just saying that things like:
"In care of Child and Family Services— Yes No" is sad to see. Sad because apparently it is sufficiently prevalent to warrant inclusion on the Kindergarten entry form.

Anyhoo, in addition to the paperwork for Neomom and me to fill out, there is The School District of Mystery Lake Readiness Package for Kindergarten. That's for Sonwun to fill out.

It includes counting exercises, colour recognition, letter recognition, social development suggestions and exercises designed to teach him to write letters and put them together while writing his name.

And while I think that's great and all, I kinda thought that was what Kindergarten was for. I mean, you're getting him every day, all day, for a school year. And it's Kindergarten. If I teach him all of these things, what are YOU going to teach him? Calculus?

I know, I know. Wait and see. Don't jump to conclusions. But I guess I worry about him being bored with school. I was and it was reflected in my grades and general attitude I suppose.

As he begins his educational career, I want him to have fun, I want him to be challenged and rise to that challenge. I want him to learn and enjoy learning. I want him to play sports, to win, to lose— all that good stuff.

Okay, getting ahead of myself. For now, we're gonna crack The School District of Mystery Lake Readiness Package for Kindergarten and we're gonna count teddy bears, help the bunny find the carrot and match the two gorillas.

Have a great day.

The Deck

2010-05-10T06:47:00.005-05:00

Well, Happy Monday!

I'm feeling a little lazy this morning, so I thought I'd take Kim up on her request for pics of my deck project.

This one is the house just before commencement of construction. You'll note the patio doors that are two feet off the ground. The shaky stairs have been removed and are in the foreground.

Frame is in place, shaky stairs being used for now, until I can build some new ones.

Decking in place. Now just waiting for some better weather before I finish up with the rails and new stairs. I probably don't need to point this out, but I will anyway. The reason it looks a little off level is the wide angle lens.

Trust me. That sucker's level. Worked very hard to be sure.

Sonwun enjoying his "tire swing" in the back yard. Just a bonus shot. Have a great week!

Dad . . . Grumpy Dad

2010-05-09T06:30:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I mentioned the neighbourhood in which I grew up. I fondly remembered the fact that all the kids played together, up and down the street, without fear. The moms were watching.

Well, be careful what you wish for.

It seems our backyard is becoming THE place to hang out in the 'hood. And I'm not that fond of it.

Last night, for example, there were five kids here. Sonwun (4), Sontoo (2), B.A. (7) and two girls, both 8. Don't know the girls' names. Around these parts, it seems, these kids wander the neighbourhood and have no fear of entering someone else's backyard and playing with the toys.

And you know, given the state of the public playgrounds, I guess I can understand. There are fewer broken whiskey bottles in my backyard, and less drug paraphernalia laying around. (I try to stay on top of these things).

But I guess it's the age of these kids that concerns me. I mean, I don't think they're here to play with a four-year-old. I think they're here for the toys. And, apparently, to open my garage door and go through the contents to see if there are any toys I forgot to put out in the yard. That makes me uncomfortable.

This began a few weeks ago when B.A. and his friend, C.K., showed up out of the blue, wanting to play with Sonwun. Now, C.K. is at least the same age as Sonwun, so that wasn't a factor. However, it really concerned me that a four-year-old was wandering the neighbourhood by himself.

I asked around and discovered that he's been doing that for more than a year. Yes, he was wandering the street, unaccompanied, at the age of three, in the violent crime capital of Canada. That really bothers me.

One of the eight-year-old girls that showed up yesterday told Neomom that her mom had gone to a birthday party and felt the need to share that there would be "drinking" at the party. The fact that she pointed this out really bothers me. Why did she?

I want to be happy that Sonwun has kids to play with. I want to be happy that they are coming to my house to do it. That way, after all, I can keep an eye on him.

But I'm not.

Seven-year-olds and eight-year-olds are really good at manipulating and dominating four-year-olds. I don't like that.

And I don't like baby sitting the children of people I don't know. Aside from the fact that I'm not getting paid, I am concerned about what could happen if one of them fell of the swing, or fell off my deck. The world is becoming more and more litigious and I don't want to be on the receiving end of a lawsuit.

This is a new phase in my dad development, and I'm just not sure how to handle it yet. Do I ban the older kids? Do I try to contact the parents? Not sure I want to do that. Not sure I want a relationship with them, because given what I have heard and seen, I don't want to have to deal with an invitation for Sonwun to go play in their yard. Not gonna happen.

And you know, the final thing that bothers me is that I'm feeling a little like the "grumpy dad" of the neighbourhood and, worse, like a bit of a snob. I really hate both titles.

But the bottom line is that I'm looking out for my boys. I don't want either one wandering anywhere out of my sight just yet. Yes, the time will come, but it just ain't here yet. And I'm fine with that. Especially considering where we live right now.

Still don't know exactly what to do about all this. But for now, I guess I'll just own the grumpy dad and snob titles. 'Cause grumpy dad, is first and foremost a dad. And, in spite of what others think about that title, and what it means, I've got to go with what I believe it means.

Have a great Sunday! And Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, especially my own.

Best Laid Plans II

2010-05-08T07:23:00.001-05:00

Well, that didn't go as planned . . .

As I mentioned yesterday, with my back yard finally a more child-friendly environment, I invited four moms and their kids over for a "playdate."

I think I've mentioned before that this is a new concept for me. Growing up, we had a ton of kids in the neighbourhood. We played outside from sun-up to sun-down. My parents never had to worry, as every parent in the 'hood was watching us all and knew who to call if we started bleeding beyond what was considered acceptable.

No one EVER had to arrange a "date" on which to play. Every day was a playdate.

But I digress.

Here in Thompson, I know no one except the moms at playgroup. Playgroup was cancelled this week. Hence, the playdate invitation.

Of the four invitees, three didn't make it and the fourth sent her kids with her husband, who happened to have the day off.

You know, I'm thinking I'm just not one of the girls.

Sure, in retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that I'd chosen some great prizes for the wet t-shirt contest. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that I was baking my "special" brownies. And maybe the other moms just weren't that interested in the fact that I'd finally completed my International Porn collection.

Oh well, live and learn.

Okay, I know my mom and mother-in-law read this occasionally, so I should probably also point out that I'M KIDDING!

Once I get my hands on the German classic, Das Booty, then my collection will be complete.

Again, kidding, relax mom . . . But as for the playdate, the bottom line is, there's a nasty stomach flu going around Thompson right now, and it pretty much wiped out the potential playdate participants. Alas, there's probably at least another month or two of less-than-freezing weather up here, so we'll just have to do it another day.

I still had a good time with the other dad, watching the kids play and enjoying a coffee for an hour or so.

Anyhoo, the weekend's here. Unfortunately, Neomom is working, so the boys and I will just have to find ways to amuse ourselves. Sonwun is anxious to get out to the stores today to find a "love card" for Mother's Day. We'll see what he'd like to get her for a present. The last time I let him choose, he bought her mom a beach ball and a sticker book.

Ticked me off a little. That's what I was going to get her.

Have yourselves a great weekend! And hug your mom if you can!

Friday

2010-05-07T06:02:00.000-05:00

Happy Friday!

So, the deck is complete. Well, to be more accurate, the decking part of the deck is complete. Still need to add stairs and railings. But I like what I've done so far.

And, yesterday morning, it being a balmy -8C outside, with no wind, I enjoyed a coffee on my handiwork. Loved it!

In addition to the deck, I feel I earned some extra dad points yesterday. Climbed about 20' up into a tree (okay, the first 10 I used the ladder) and hung a rope. Now, in most other places, it would be easy to find something to hang on that rope so that Sonwun could swing. I was thinking one of those disk thingies. A tire? No. He'd clock himself, or Sontoo, in the head with it. Guaranteed.

So, off I went to the local Canadian Tire and Walmart, as these are really the only places here in hell that might sell such an item. And yet, neither one did. So I searched and searched. And then I saw it. An eight-inch lawnmower wheel. With a half-inch hole for the axle. I used half-inch rope. A match made in heaven.

So I bought it, attached it, and the boy didn't leave the swing all day. And it was a fight to get him to come in for lunch, supper and bedtime. Yay! We also picked up a small play structure/slide combo for Sontoo. He seems to love that as well.

Anyhoo, with these backyard improvements in place, today I've invited a few of the moms from playgroup over. Playgroup was cancelled this week and I'm sure we're all a little starved for adult interaction. And I'm sure the kids would like some folks their own age to swing with, run around with and throw sand at. Good times all around.

This is my first time playing host for a "playdate," so I'll let y'all know how it goes.

Other than that, the weather is supposed to be getting nicer in the next four or five days, which should allow me to get my railings and stairs installed to complete the deck. Looking forward to it.

Have a Great Weekend!

The Best Laid Plans . . .

2010-05-03T06:33:00.001-05:00

Well, Happy Monday!

It's 5 a.m. and I've been up for an hour now. Anxious I guess.

The Deck: Still working on it. Neomom had the weekend off, according to her schedule. So, on Saturday morning, in spite of the below-zero temperatures, high wind and snow, I went to work. I just have to take advantage of Neomom's days off if I want to make any serious progress.

And it was a good day. I dressed for the weather and spent all day outside. I managed to finish the frame and get a fair bit of decking in place. My body protested, but the hot shower at the end of the day made it all worthwhile. And, I figured, if I put in the same amount of work Sunday, I could be enjoying my coffee on the deck Monday morning. Even if I had to wear a snowsuit, dammit, I was gonna do it.

Sunday morning, at 7 a.m., Neomom got the call. And she was off to Churchill . . . FOR THIS . . . most likely for a couple of days. The best laid plans . . .

But, in spite of this little fly in the ointment, I did manage to get a couple of hours in while the boys napped. Coffee on the deck will have to wait. Grrrr.

Anyhoo, it's -5C this morning with a forecast high of 5C. The rest of the week looks equally chilly. I will have to do my best to finish the deck, a little at a time, when the boys sleep. Next weekend, the temperatures are looking a little nicer. Hopefully, by then, I can enjoy my coffee on the deck.

Have a great week.

P.S. This one seems a tad disjointed. Tired. Don't sleep well when Neomom is away.

Not so Gentle Reminder . . .

2010-04-29T07:24:00.001-05:00

Well, the deck's coming along nicely, thank you.

My back is sore, my arms are sore . . . sucks getting older. Sucks being reminded you're getting older. I still attack a job like this as though I was 20. And in my mind, I still am. Until of course my body tells me otherwise. As it is this morning.

It's been more than 20 years since I worked in any sort of professional capacity as a carpenter. And during this particular project, I have Sonwun to remind me that I ain't the carpenter I once was . . . constantly.

"Okay, Sonwun, I don't want you hanging around her while I'm building. It's a little dangerous. So why don't you go back there and play in your sandbox."

"Okay."

Thirty seconds later, he's back.

"You missed the nail Daddy."

"I know Sonwun."

"You missed again Daddy."

"I know Sonwun."

"You sure hit the wood a lot Daddy."

"Back to the sandbox, NOW, Sonwun."

"Why is the nail all bendy, Daddy?"

"SANDBOX! NOW!"

Anyhoo, I got most of the frame done yesterday and hope to finish it up today, get it inspected tomorrow and put the decking in place on the weekend. I am really looking forward to coffee on the deck one of these days.

And, as I have a lot of work today, I'm gonna keep this short this morning.

Have yourselves a great Thursday. The weekend's on its way!

Permission

2010-04-28T07:02:00.000-05:00

Well, I started building the deck yesterday.

And by that, I mean I started to find out whose permission I needed. And, as expected, City Hall wants its pound of flesh; actually two pounds. And why not? I pay a ridiculous amount of property tax on a 60-year-old house, a couple of "special levies" for garbage, recycling and, soon, water. Why shouldn't they collect a small chunk of change because I want to build a small deck?

I spent yesterday sketching and mapping out my plan and will take it to town hall this morning in order to obtain my Development Permit. Um . . . yeah. I'll let you know what develops.

Basically, this permit requires my sketching of my property, including the house, garage and proposed deck, showing measurements of the structure as well as its proximity to the neighbours' yards on two sides, and my garage on the other. I will swap this piece of paper, along with a $90 cheque, for the right to apply for a building permit.

To obtain a building permit, I'm told, I need to prepare and submit and sketch of my deck, showing the basic foundation and framing elements. In other words, the good folks at city hall want to be sure it won't fall over. Fair enough. And, in exchange for that bit of artwork, and a cheque for $60, I may construct my deck.

I should point out here that "Chris," the building inspector here in Thompson, was very friendly and helpful on the phone. He will be coming out to check on my progress once the frame is in place, but before I start on the decking. Again, fair enough. Don't mind paying one extra tax for this deck, but I think two is a little outrageous.

For the development permit, I will spend all of two minutes as the development officer looks over the plan, trusts my measurements, and rubber stamps the permit. Can't say I'm happy that it costs $90.

Anyhoo, that's what's happening here in paradise.

Have a great Wednesday!

Summer Fun!

2010-04-26T05:40:00.001-05:00

So . . . -4 here this morning, forecast calling for two to four inches of snow. (Written Saturday - we got it all and more.)

Time to start thinking about backyard summer fun!

I look forward to the days when I can boot the boys out the back door and let them fight outside instead of in the living room. If I crack the kitchen window, just a little, I can filter out the standard whining noises ("Sontoo's looking at me!") and still leave enough room to hear any full-out screaming that might result from a broken bone or uncontrolled bleeding.

But there are a few things that need attention around the homestead. The three at the top of the priority list for this summer are:

1. New eaves troughs and fascia. The plastic troughs on the house right now are leaking at almost every joint. Why anyone would put those crappy things on a house is beyond me. But someone did and now I have to deal with it. Seamless troughs and aluminum fascia, all the way around, two storeys up. What fun! This will cost some money.

2. A deck out back. Someone put some nice patio doors off the dining room, but there's a three-foot drop from the doors to the lawn. The previous owners thoughtfully cobbled together a few crappy stairs to remedy the situation. They wobble a lot and, as the doors open out, you have to walk up them, open the door while backing back down the stairs and then walk back up and in. Kind of a pain. So I have to deal with that. And this will cost some money.

3. Some kind of play structure. And I'll admit I'm a little iffy on this one. Given the cost versus interest longevity ratio, it's still up in the air. The boys have a great sandbox, plenty of toys and nearby playgrounds (granted, the playgrounds are often covered in broken glass, graffiti and some drug paraphernalia). Do we really need to spend money on this?

(The rest written this morning)

Anyhoo, by a vote of one . . . Neomom . . . the deck has taken top spot on the list. I spent yesterday planning. Today I will take the plans to the local lumber yard for an estimate . . . just to know how much further in debt we will go. I also need to find out if a permit is necessary, how much that'll cost us and when I can get going.

I admit, it will be nice to work with my hands again. And, weather permitting, the boys can "help out" which will put us all outside, all day, at least for a little while. And hey, when it's done, if I fall off the roof while putting up the eaves troughs, I won't have as far to fall.

I'll try to get some pictures as I go, just for fun. But, before I do that, I need to buy another hard drive or two, as the one on my computer is pretty much full. Need to dump the 8,000+ pictures and videos on to a drive for storage. Oh, and this too will cost some money.

So, those are the summer plans. Wish us luck!

Nutty

2010-04-23T05:20:00.001-05:00

Okay, I'd been warned. Kiddies Northern Preschool is a Nut Aware Environment.

But, being the carefree, devil-may-care rebel that I am . . . I sent my son to school with Ritz cracker cheese sandwich snacky things. And you know, at the grocery store, when I bought them, I even checked to make sure they were the cheese variety and not the peanut butter ones. I try to be a good Nut Aware kinda guy.

But yesterday, when I picked up Sonwun from preschool, he announced that his cracker snacks were still in his Lightning McQueen lunch box. Oh, said I, didn't you like them?

"They have peanut butter in them," he said.

"What?????!!! Who told you that?"

"Teacher."

Well, was I embarrassed. Clearly I'd read the package wrong. Coulda sworn it said "Crackers with Real Cheese" on the front. No mention of the peanut butter.

So . . . we got home. I opened the lunch box. Taped to the offending snack food was a note, printed on Caution Orange paper.

"DUE TO LIFE THREATENING ALLERGIES WE CANNOT OPEN THIS SNACK AT PRESCHOOL THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS NUTS OR IS MADE IN A FACTORY THAT CONTAINS NUTS.

THANKS FOR YOUR COOPERATION
KIDDIES NORTHERN PRESCHOOL STAFF"

Yeah, it was in all capital letters. Kinda like they were yelling at me. At least they didn't write "Yo, butthead. Thanks for the ticking time bomb you thoughtlessly lobbed into the middle of a group of preschoolers. Nice move, you insensitive turd."

So, I took a closer look at the ol' time bomb from the good folks at Christie. I looked at the label: Yup. Crackers with Real Cheese. I looked at the substance between the crackers. Yup. Cheese. Orange in colour. I looked at the ingredients . . . no mention of peanuts, peanut butter or peanut oil.

And then, there it was, in tiny red print: "WARNING: MAY CONTAIN TRACE AMOUNTS OF PEANUTS."

Okay, fine, I screwed up. I sent my son to preschool with a snack that may contain trace amounts of peanuts. But, to be fair, I had no idea I'd committed this crime. And I simply do not have time at the grocery store to seek out the fine print on every product I buy.

I had no idea that this peanut allergy thing was so strict. I mean, seriously? Because peanuts are present at a factory, the snack is forbidden? Seems like we've gone a little overboard here.

I suspect that half the kids who show up at school on any given day "may contain trace amounts of peanuts." Toast and peanut butter for breakfast . . . unless a post-breakfast chemical decontamination is part of your daily routine, odds are pretty good your kid "may contain trace amounts of peanuts." I'll suggest slightly more than trace amounts on some of the less hygiene-inclined kids.

But, you know, even if I manage to get every trace of peanut butter off Sonwun before school, I can't escape the fact the HE was "made in a factory that contains peanuts."

Oh well, live and learn. I am now more nut aware.

Have a great Friday.

Dance

2010-04-02T09:16:00.002-05:00

Couple of things going through my mind this Good Friday morning.

On top of the heap is a little bit of regret. I would love nothing more than to be planning a trip to one of my brothers' or sisters' homes for Easter dinner this weekend. And by that I mean I wish we lived closer together, and it was a regular thing. But it hits harder on the holidays.

The verbal abuse (in fun of course), the games, the jokes . . . the laughter. Maybe it's because we all live so far apart, but when we get together, it's always a party, a celebration and there is a lot of laughter. Yeah, today I really miss that.

And I guess this stuff came to mind this morning as I was making pancakes for the boys. It's their favourite.

Anyhoo, I turned on my iTunes as I was cooking and an ABBA song came up first. My sister loved ABBA when we were growing up. Which made me think of family.

I know, backwards segue there, so let's move on. To a worse segue.

The ABBA music also took me into a religious train of thought. (Hang on, it sorta makes sense.)

You see, I grew up in a Mennonite church, went to a Mennonite high school. And among the Mennonite traditions, if you will, was the belief that dancing was, well, evil.

(Standard joke: Why don't Mennonites have sex standing up? . . . . It leads to dancing. Ha ha ha)

So, how is this relevant? Well, when the music came on, both of my boys, at 2 and 4, immediately started dancing in their chairs as they waited for their pancakes.

"Let's dance!" said 2-year-old Sontoo from his high chair, wiggling his little bottom, waving his little hands and kicking his little feet under the table.

Ooooh, that's some evil stuff right there.

And I suppose this kind of thing is one of the myriad reasons I am not in church this Good Friday morning. I always thought the no-dancing rule (and several of the others) was a crock. But it wasn't until I had children that I realized just how big a crock it is.

Dancing, moving to music, is as natural as breathing. I didn't teach them to dance. Neomom didn't teach them to dance. They just hear music and they want to move to it. And they smile, angelically, ear to ear, when they do. If that is evil . . . I have learned in improper definition somewhere along the way.

Anyhoo, that and a few other things pretty much put me off organized religion ("the church" whatever that means to you) a few years back. And that's why I'm not there this morning.

But it's a gorgeous day, the sun is shining, I plan to get outside and enjoy it with my boys. Their bellies are full of pancakes and they're ready to dance.

I still wish, however, that they could be dancing and laughing with their uncles, aunts and cousins. Someday . . .

March Broke

2010-03-30T08:48:00.001-05:00

March Break . . . ugh.

Not so much of a break, really. I mean the boys aren't in school yet, but they do have a couple of activities each week to help them, and me, break the monotony.

But both preschool and playgroup have been cancelled this week. Because it's March Break. Ugh.

Yeah, I try to beat the boredom with exciting trips to the drug store, the accountant's office and the grocery store. But it's just not cutting it. Who knew?

And while the weather outside seems to be cooperating, the fact of the matter is, the warmth is enough to really get things melting, providing many puddles on top of the ice. And that means we last about 10 minutes in the great outdoors before someone slips and fills their pants and boots and mitts with ice water. Did I say ugh yet?

This morning, I've got two pair of soaking boots . . . well, two complete soaking outfits, and will likely have two young charges anxious to get outside. Supposed to rain this morning.

Do I sound like Eeyore? Feeling a little like him I guess. It's been a long freakin' winter, and we're only a little more than half-way through "the year of hell." I think I've mentioned the year of hell a few times, but for those that are unfamiliar, it's the year my wife must work regular shifts and then put in an equal amount of time doing homework and research. We're not seeing much of each other.

But this too shall pass.

Anyhoo, today is bath day. Oh joy. I must also get more stuff to the accountant so that we can get the taxes filed. And this year . . . drumroll please . . . we're actually getting a refund. First time in a few years. It's not enough to retire on or anything, but it beats the hell out of having to pay. So yay.

That's all I've got for today.

Have a great Tuesday!

Fear the Bunny

2010-03-29T05:48:00.001-05:00

Well, that's a surprise.

Sonwun, my fearless first-born, mild-mannered alter-ego of Batman Flash, the Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, the dude with batropes, batarangs and other high-tech gadgets on his Bat Utility Belt fears . . . the Easter Bunny.

At playgroup Friday, the Easter Bunny made an appearance to hand out some candy and have his picture taken with the kids. Sontoo, the younger, took a moment away from his snack to walk over and have a look at the big bunny, and then returned to his little picnic table to enjoy the rest of his juice. Just really wasn't interested.

And I'm not one of those parents that is going to force him on to the lap of this giant, fluffy, freaky Hallmark creation just to get a "cute" picture of him screaming. Why do this?

Sonwun, on the other hand, found a spot in the gym as far from the long-eared devil as he could be. And then he came and hung out with me, keeping one eye on the creepy cottontail at all times and asking that I do my best to make sure it did not see him. And he remained with me until it left the building.

Couldn't get an explanation for this out of Sonwun, so I remain a little confused.

I mean I know why I fear the Easter Bunny, but it can't be for same reasons.

When I was growing up, the Easter Bunny was a fine, mythical character; never seen, existing only the minds of children, like the Tooth Fairy.

But over the years, it seems, profiteers have brought the bunny up out of the rabbit hole and into reality. Why? So that someone can set him up in the mall and charge $10 a pop for the kiddies to sit on his lap and have their picture taken. This was taking place here on the weekend.

In the case of the bunny at playgroup, though no money was exchanged, I couldn't help but notice he was wearing a large "Crayola" hat with the company logo prominently displayed.

Yeah, that's what the Easter Bunny needed: corporate branding.

And finally, I fear the old-school Easter Bunny because he brings gobs of chocolate into my home. And while I have no problem with my kids enjoying a little chocolate, the diabetic in my looks at it like a basket full of crack. I want it. I can't, or shouldn't, have it, but if it's lying around the house . . .

And while we're on the subject of chocolate death, I played host to a Parents and Tots board meeting Friday. Laid out a few goodies for the six members expected, including one of my all-time, pre-diabetic, favourite treats: nanaimo bars.

They didn't all get eaten, as only two board members showed up for the meeting. Plenty left over.

The following morning, Sonwun watched as I was cleaning up, and he spotted the nanaimos.

"What's that dad?" he asked.

"That," I answered, "is evil on a plate."

"I love evil."

Fears the Easter Bunny, loves evil. The teen years should be interesting times.

Have a great week!

New Plan

2010-03-22T06:36:00.000-05:00

Well, happy Monday!

I had big plans for this week, huge plans. Plans that would have been so very, very, very much fun. But some other bugger won the $40 million Lotto 649 jackpot, so I must once again put my big plans on hold.

So, new kid at playgroup. Turns out he's a friend of Sonwun from preschool and Sonwun was very excited to see him at playgroup. And I, therefore, was excited for him, ever so briefly.

The other kid? Let's call him, oh, I don't know, Fire.

And let's call Sonwun, um, Gasoline.

Now let's be clear. I have no delusions about my son. He's no angel. But, like gasoline, he's not too dangerous when properly controlled and contained. However, just below the surface he's a cauldron of potential energy just waiting to be ignited.

Enter Fire. Fire is, by nature, destructive. Left unattended, it grows and grows, consuming all in its path. And when it finds a can of gas . . .

Is that the karma train I'm hearing? Somewhere, some parent is blogging about Pit, my son, the Psycho in Training. Someone who has witnessed Fire and Gasoline careening about the bouncy house at playgroup with reckless disregard for their flying feet and the two-year-olds around them. Someone who watched the deadly duo take over the plastic playhouse and forbid entry to others. Someone whose readers are wondering, where is the parent?

Well, I'm there. And I'm doing my best to stay on top of the mayhem. But with the addition of fire, gasoline is occupying almost all of my time at playgroup, leaving little for the ever-clingy Sontoo.

My little gas can is still only 4. But I guess it's an opportunity to impart as many little life lessons as his little brain will absorb. Lessons about not following the crowd, about including others, about why flying tackles and headlocks are not generally welcome by strangers.

Anyhoo, that's my challenge in the coming weeks.

As for this week, instead of shopping for a nice condo in Whistler Village with my lottery winnings, I will be washing the vomit out of Sonwun's bedding, as this morning at 2, he woke up with a bad stomach. He's still asleep now, at 6:35 a.m., and here's hoping he feels better when he wakes up.

Neomom left half an hour ago for the airport and will be in Winnipeg for two days for court. Could be a long day.

In any case, have a great Monday, and a great week!