Back to Reality

View across a lake toward Mont Tremblant, Quebec.
This panoramic picture is actually made up of about 14 vertical photographs combined.

Earlier in October, Steve and I took a mid-week break and went to Mont-Tremblant. We had some serious stuff on our itinerary, but we also wanted to get in some really good (and easy) hiking with Kane.

Working It

Photo by Cathy Walters Photography. If you live in Colorado Springs, look her up.

Every time I hear couples (celebrities, for the most part) talking about how "marriage is work," I want to run around behind them saying, "No! It's not! It's rewarding!" Because they make it sound like a prison sentence. Having said that, I have to agree: all the best things in life require some effort on your part. Marriage included.

Of impulse shopping and miscommunication

A 20-year-old two-person hot tub

What do you do if you and your husband accidentally get a huge bargain on a hot tub that neither of you wants? Here's the story.

My Own Worst Enemy

Delicious!
Steve bought the baguette and the brie, neither of which you would call bare-bones essentials.
I bought the tomatoes and fresh basil.

Recently, Steve and I have decided to divide the grocery-shopping responsibility. Previously, it fell entirely to Steve, largely as a measure to keep our spending under control (as mentioned here). But, as I briefly sorta, kinda mentioned here, I've taken on the job of shopping (and paying) for the fruits and vegetables.

What I didn't really say in that post was that the reason for this is that Steve is kind of stingy. A bit of a skinflint. He has strong Scottish blood and keeps a close eye on his money. Scrooge would consider him a model of fiscal behaviour.

I love him like the Dickens, but the man is tight.

[Given my profligate ways, it is just a darned good thing he came along. Every now and then, I run up my credit card, then spend months chipping away at it. Our finances are mostly separate (all accounts are joint, but each of us is "prime" on one or the other), but, of course, if one of us goes into debt, that leaves less money for us to spend over all.]

Occasionally, this difference in attitudes towards money strikes a nerve.

This morning, for example, Steve joined me at Farm Boy. Almost the first thing on display was a bank of strawberries. This ensued:

"Do you want to get some strawberries?" I asked, thinking that they would be yummy sliced onto a salad.

"They're expensive right now, because they aren't in season," he noted.

"Just get them!" I snapped. Rudely. "Never mind the price! I'm paying!"

Ouch!

Quite rightly, he was offended. I apologized, and we continued. On the way home, we calmly talked about why I'd rather spend more on appetizing, healthy foods than on inexpensive snacks. He pointed out that he doesn't always try to buy the least expensive item anymore.

"You'll notice that I even bought the really soft toilet paper this time," he joked.

Thank god we can laugh together.

What I didn't tell Steve until we got home was that I had spent more money on this particular grocery expedition than I ever had before. Including shopping for holiday meals. More than $150, in fact. On fruits and vegetables, people! Ostensibly enough to last one week.

After the comment about the strawberries, I had picked up every single impulse item on display.

Pistachios! Leek-and-potato soup! Cherries! Pomelo! [What is that, even?] Four bunches of flowers! A basil plant! Granola! Gluten-free snickerdoodles! Croutons!

I almost bought a $12/lb prime-rib roast.

You'll notice that only two of those items actually qualify as a fruit or vegetable.

Oh, Wynn Anne, Wynn Anne, Wynn Anne.

In my unintentionally passive-aggressive effort to prove that money is not the point, I managed to shoot myself in the wallet.

I'm 50 years old, and, my god, I have a lot to learn.

Is there such a thing as "too much candy"?

I don't think so. (Yes, spoken as one who has diabetes, so take that into consideration.)

The other day several friends, including our daughter Katie, who goes by Kat with her friends, posted the following picture on Facebook.

Find the recipe (haha!) here.

I'd made gingerbread houses from kits before (with their insufficient number of candies - so frustrating!) and with graham crackers, too, but these? These were truly houses I could eat right down to the foundations!

Yesterday, I bought an obscene amount of candy, enough for three houses.

• 24 Kit Kat bars
• 3 Aero bars
• 3 boxes of Smarties (Canadian kind, not the American kind)
• 2 large bags of Skittles
• and more

Really, you don't need the full list. But, as you can see, I spent a pretty penny on this escapade. In the end, Katie couldn't join us for the celebration of sugar, but we decorated a house for her anyway.

Here is my own pile of Kit Kat bars.

Enough for one house. You can count seven, but there are eight in the pile.

As well as cutting out the cardboard forms for each of the houses, Steve decorated one. In very Engineer-orderly fashion, might I say. (He also took time to quibble with the orientation of the Kit Kat bars, arguing that a horizontal layout would give a better impression of a log cabin. He was right, of course, but I pointed to the rules and he went with the game plan.)

Steve's Kit Kat house, under construction

Likewise, Emily's showed some OCD influences.
Also, as she pointed out, some Halloween influences.

My own was a testament to improvisation and randomness.

I kind of got carried away decorating and forgot to take pictures, until Emily reminded me.

L-R; Emily's, mine, Steve's
The tree at front-centre is Emily's

Focus on Steve's house. His tree is in the foreground.

This may not have been the healthiest activity I've ever undertaken with my kids (kid, really, unless you count Steve, which he often does), but given the news of this past week and my lifelong need to actively fight depression, I count this as an afternoon well spent.

Nevertheless, I will be shipping the houses off to more suitable homes tomorrow.

Date Night

This picture, however, was taken last night
at a different restaurant.

In a previous post, I mentioned that Steve and I have really made an effort to have regular date nights. Even though our kids are grown, so we really don't need to escape, we've continued the habit as we find it strengthens our connection to each other.

A few weeks ago, Steve and I went out for one of our favourite date nights: we went to a casual restaurant nearby (Big Rig Brewery) and played cards.

After placing our orders, we pulled out a deck of cards and began to play Klabberjass, an eastern European game that we discovered in Hoyle's Book of Rules, 'way back when our children were babies.

We had kept a notebook of our scores for about 20 years, but lost it on one of our recent vacations. It was in that notebook that we noticed that Steve invariably won in the mornings and I was the more likely winner in the evenings.

That notebook also had a record of the game we started playing while I was in labour with Brian, but abandoned because I couldn't concentrate.

Klabberjass is similar to Euchre, but is only for two players. The special cards include the Jass (Jack) and Menel (9) of trump. You get bonus points for runs, taking the final trick (called stish), and for playing both King and Queen of trump. If you bid and lose, you are considered "bete" and your opponent wins all the points, including yours.

When our server dropped off our drinks, she asked what game we were playing. When we told her, she said she knew the game - she was from Ukraine and spoke with a slight accent. She said that it was very popular there.

She also mentioned that another couple had played Backgammon at the table across the aisle just the night before. So perhaps it's a new trend.

It's something we have only started doing recently, but it reminds me of high school and university, before life revolved around the Internet and computer games. It also helps us steer the conversation away from the stressful parts of life: work, children, finances. Before we landed on this idea, we used to bring scrap paper and draw sketches for home renovations and landscape ideas. (This idea came about because of restaurants that have butcher-paper "tablecloths.") I like the Backgammon idea, too.

A tangent: another date-night tip - also for casual restaurants - is that we simply  order two appetizers and no entree. More often than not, we find ourselves satisfied with that.

What are your unique date-night tips?

How to Set a Fancy-Schmancy Table

I love decorating our table for special meals; it brings out my inner Martha Stewart. And my guests like it, too. It is almost de rigueur now that guests drop off their contributions in the kitchen, then pass through the dining room before sitting down for appetizers.

"You always make it look really festive," one guest commented on (Canadian) Thanksgiving Monday.

I'm glad she felt that way.

Today, I'm sharing some of the tips & tricks I use when making my table look extra-special. Some of it involves shopping, but it also includes working with what you have.

1. Choose a colour scheme and gather the things you think might work.
Since it is fall, I chose an autumnal theme and gathered the elements on the table. (I have an ivory tablecloth which works well as a blank canvas.)

These were all things I had on hand, either purchased last Thanksgiving or gifts (some from years ago). Let's take a closer look.

Here's what we have:

• A table runner
• A couple of baskets
• Ornamental napkin rings
• A yard or so of fabric
• A capiz shell placemat thingy
• Some candles in seasonal colours
• A few ornamental leaves

2. Start to layer.
Beginning with my neutral tablecloth (in this case, two tablecloths, since our table is big enough to accommodate 12 people), start layering your elements, starting with your runner or accent fabric.

I tried the runner, but it was just too small (and too close in colour) for the big table. In this case, I bunched up the ornamental fabric, partly because it was faded in one spot from the time I used it as a table-topper in front of a window, and also because I think it looks nice that way. But not yet. In that shot, it looks messy.

3. Begin setting places.
Like too many of us (and much to my husband's dismay), I have several sets of dishes. Everyday dishes in a pistachio green, wedding dishes in white with silver trim, heirloom dishes in white with delicate periwinkle flowers, and today's dishes in a hand-painted rustic finish.

(Some of the napkins are still in the laundry.) You can see that the table is starting to come together. The three sets of candlesticks are a happy coincidence of wedding gifts: silver, brass, and crystal in three different heights. I love using them together.

4. Fill in gaps.
That centrepiece - or lack thereof - was a problem. I often will put low flowers (so people can see across the table), but Farm Boy was completely out of flowers by the time I got there on Sunday. Incredible!

So I scoured my house and found this.

It's a fisherman's float from our trip through Oregon and California a few years ago. I'm a glass-art fanatic, so I was happy to find an excuse to use this. The blue-green in the glass picked up the blue in the ornamental fabric. (There's also a touch of blue in the plates, but it's difficult to see.)

5. Set the table.

Here's a look at one place setting, before adding the glassware.

(Oh. I realized that I had chargers for under the plates. I've had these for a couple of years, but kept on forgetting about them. Finally remembered. Steve, naturally, thinks they are completely useless, and they are, but they really do help the table look fancy-schmancy. Which is a real word, Blogger, so stop putting a squiggly line under it!)

Here is a diagram of the correct setting of a place, in an informal style. Which is probably the most formal most of us will ever see.

Things to note:

• Bread-and-butter plate is to the left/above the forks.
• Wine glass is above the plate. The picture doesn't show it, but the water goblet (or glass) goes directly above the knife. Coffee or tea cup would also be in this corner.
• Forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right.

Memorize that diagram. 

6. Stand back and look at the beauty.

And here is my table fully set. I don't know why I didn't get a full-on picture of it, but this'll have to do. Sorry.

It was, as always, chaotic when it came time to serve, so I didn't get a picture with food on the table. We had so much food that the glass ball had to be moved to the china cabinet. 

And that, is the unraveling of my mystery of table decor. It is something that simply makes me happy. Do you have any tricks? 

Valentine's Date Disasters

Is it too predictable that I am diabetic and I love Valentine's Day?

Well, okay, they don't really qualify as disasters, but Steve and I have had a few dud Valentine's dates.

Like most couples, we've debated how big a deal to make out of this artificial celebration of romantic love. At least once, we've decided to do nothing, only to find me feeling let-down. On the whole, I choose to make it festive.

One year we had decided not to do anything special, not even go out to dinner, but then about a week before the big date, I changed my mind. By then, of course, our favourite places were all booked up. But there was one restaurant on our way home from work that we'd always been curious about. They could seat us! Yay! [That should have been a warning.]

People were crammed in the vestibule waiting to be seated, servers were scrambling around with platters of drinks and food. The lighting was Home-Depot fluorescent, the flowers were plastic, and the tables were a step up from diner tables, but not a big step.

"We're together, and that's what matters," I chirped. [Hit me with a stick.]

"Yup. That's what this is about," Steve chimed in. [These may not be his actual words.]

I don't remember the meal, and that's probably a good thing, though I do have a flashback of one of those token "salads" that consist of half a cup of iceberg lettuce, two tomato wedges and a slice of cucumber.

We never went back.

The following year, we learned from our mistake and booked early. In January, I called Il Primo on Preston and booked our Valentine's day seating. The evening arrived and we put on pantyhose (me) and tie (Steve) and presented ourselves at the door.

Our reservation was nowhere to be found. The tables were full.

It turned out they had written down our reservation on January 14th, not on February 14th.

I almost cried as we went back to the car and decided to go see a movie instead. Half way to the theatre, the restaurant called us; they'd had a cancellation and could seat us after all!

We doubled back and enjoyed a truly delicious meal. At the end of the evening, the owner gave us a gift certificate for a complimentary meal - which we enjoyed several weeks later.

[Okay, so that one was decidedly not a disaster, but you do see how it could have been, right?]

A few years later, we decided to dine at a new restaurant rather than our tried-and-true favourites. We are both fans of Greek food (and have a trip to Greece somewhere in our future, probably after the flames have died down), so we went looking for something Hellenic. In Colorado.

Now Colorado Springs has some excellent dining, notably some fabulous Mexican cuisine and Thai food, but Greek is not very popular. But we got recommendations and showed up on Valentine's night.

We were overdressed. They ran out of the entree and the wine that I wanted. The lighting was glaring. The cabinetry was ... oily, sticky. It again had that diner allure to it.

So, we have learned: book early (and accurately) and a special night is not the night to try something new.

And, when all else fails, we just remind ourselves: we're together, and that's what matters.

P.S. This year, the plan is to go to a nice, little Italian restaurant downtown, but Steve has been stricken by the Cold from Hades and may not feel up to a dinner out. I won't count that as a disastrous date, but I will take a raincheck. And flowers.

Bucket List

The Morning Walk

When Anne and I go out a walk,

We hold each other's hand and talk

Of all the things we mean to do

When Anne and I are forty-two.

And when we've thought about a thing,

Like bowling hoops or bicycling,

Or falling down on Anne's balloon,

We do it in the afternoon.

            ~  A.A. Milne

That has been one of our favourite poems since we were courting. In fact, I think I have a card somewhere in which Steve changed "Ann" to "Nan," one of his pet names for me.

Indeed one of the pleasures of being a couple is the idea that we can make long-term plans together.

As Steve's retirement draws closer (summer of 2014), we've started talking "of all the things we mean to do when Steve and I are fifty-two." Chief among those things is travel (like 99% of the population of retirees). So while we soaked up some sunshine this past weekend we contemplated our "bucket list" of places we want to see.

We do have slightly differing travel styles.

Steve likes a more adventurous excursion. He would gladly backpack across Europe, staying in hostels, and flying stand-by. He will eat from roadside vendors in developing countries. He would enjoy a bicycle-camping tour or a hiking vacation.

I am a more cautious traveler who likes her comforts (and no insects!) and likes to know where her next bed will be. I will happily try new foods, but get rather anxious if I'm not sure the kitchen is clean. I enjoy a little walking, but am not up to a full-day (or full-week) bike or hike trip.

Neither of us particularly wants to go anywhere where there is political unrest.

Wherever we go, we would like to stay for several weeks, since that is the real luxury of retirement.

With those things in mind, here is our [first draft] travel bucket list.

TOP PRIORITY

---

Greece
London, Paris, Rome (though not all in one trip)
Scotland: distillery tour, Glasgow, Hawick (pronounced "hiyke," whence the Sibbald clan came)
Ireland and the Hebrides
Florence & Venice
Peru: Machu Picchu  (we want to go there while we are still young and mobile enough to climb those mountains), Amazon, Galapagos

NEXT TIER - in no order

---

St Petersburg
Prague & Vienna
Southern France, wine & cheese!
New Zealand
Arctic
New York City
Cape Cod
Egypt: Nile cruise, Valley of the Kings
India
Auschwitz
Ireland, Hebrides
Trans-Australia
Trans-Canada by train
Newfoundland: L’Anse aux Meadows
Hawaii
Kenya
Thailand
Yucatan ruins

---

That's the list, so far. What's on your list? Are there places you recommend we go (that we've missed on this list)? Where would you go AGAIN?

Time for a Makeover

Poor, sad 45-year-old exterior.

I really can't say that I love the curb appeal (Hah!) of our house. That insipid yellow makes me want to smack someone. The dirty "white" bricks make me anticipate harvest-gold appliances.

Admittedly, a lot of what it needs is a good scrub of the bricks. The original owner had built a vestibule over the front porch, and you can see where it has marred the brick.

But I like to fantasize about what it would look like if we brought it into the 21st century. As I drive around various neighbourhoods, I've been looking at different colour combinations. Today I played around with Photoshop to see what I could come up with.

Possibly the least expensive: grey unifies the two levels and brick red adds pizzazz.

Doesn't that look happier? Stain the brick a modern grey, paint the siding (or replace it altogether), then add a splash of colour. No major renovation, but it looks like an altogether different decade.

I'm also fond of the classic red-brick exterior. Similar colour combination as above, really, but in different places.

Putty and red brick with a red door. Mmmm. I've always wanted a red door.

A very classic look, which suits my style just nicely.

The deluxe makeover: stone with coordinated siding and paint.

Oh, now THIS I could fall in love with. I've always loved stone, and now the faux stones they make are really quite nice. But also very expensive.

Perhaps I should not have done this little exercise, because now that pissy yellow just makes me mad. But which do you prefer? Grey, red-brick or stone?

Commitment

I had an interesting conversation with a young man the other day.

He mentioned that he was eager to start a family with his girlfriend — wanted her to "start popping out babies" — but had no similar urgency to get married.

I expressed (gently, I hope) my shock at the lack of commitment, and he took my comments in stride and said it was probably just a generational thing. He and his peers do not see the value in the formal commitment.

"You're probably right," I said. And we left it at that.

But, obviously, I didn't stop thinking about it.

Flash back to 28 years ago. I told a cousin about a friend who was excited to be pregnant. The mother-to-be was in a loving live-in relationship with the father and the baby was planned. My cousin asked, "Are they going to get married?"

"Oh, I suppose so," I replied. The question honestly had not occurred to me.

The couple did get married (before the birth). Though they gave it their best, it didn't last. But they both loved — and love — the child who is a bright, talented and secure young man in his own longstanding relationship.

So what has changed in me in the intervening years that I now think parenthood without a public commitment is a bad idea?  In this age of Kardashian 72-day unions, why would I feel that public vows and legal documents still matter?

Here's why.

A legally binding, public commitment, when made with your whole heart and not just as an excuse for a really expensive narcissistic party [cough]Kim Kardashian[cough], removes a whole world of possibilities from the table. Things that are no longer part of the equation include:

• infidelity
• selfishness
• short-term thinking
• letting one partner take all the responsibility (financially or even in terms of housework or childcare)
• giving up easily

I readily admit that there are many non-married couples for whom most of those things apply - perhaps even most couples. And obviously there are married couples who flout every last one of those before the wedding reception is over. 

When children are involved, I think they deserve to have parents who will declare their intention to be faithful to each other, to be selfless and equal partners and to push through difficult times. The public declaration is important. Just ask Alcoholics Anonymous or Weight Watchers: we are less likely to succumb to our weaker selves when we have made our intentions public.

Yah. I'm an old square now. Possibly because I now know exactly how hard it is to maintain all of that in the face of parenthood! 

As a final thought, the issue of gay marriage has been on my mind throughout this particular meandering. It is ironic that while some couples struggle for the right to declare their union, others take it so much for granted that it has no value to them. I think this picture shows so much beauty it is inspiring.

Brad Altman and George Takei waited 21 years
for the opportunity to publicly declare their commitment.
Source

Advice You Never Asked For

Nobody asked me - not a single one of you! - but I've decided to offer it to you anyway. I'm going to share my thoughts on what I think has helped my own marriage.

1. Shared values are more important than shared activities

I love to read (I am a confirmed bibliovore/bibliomaniac). I am sedentary and prefer solitude. I almost always have a creative pursuit on the go. I like to "nest," adding little bits of comfort and beauty to our home. I like to spend money and enjoy luxury. I am impulsive and make even big decisions, like buying a house, based on gut instinct after a minimal amount of research

Steve loves to get out into the fresh air - running, hiking, biking, skiing. Steve likes to get together with groups both large and small. He likes home-improvement tasks (much to my delight). Steve is frugal (some might say stingey) and would probably have a million dollars in the bank if I weren't in the picture. He is happy to live in a minimalist environment and would still buy his entire wardrobe at Salvation Army if I let him. Steve is deliberate and usually needs to "sleep on it" before he makes a big decision.

If you put us each on e-Harmony, we'd probably still be single.

But.

We both consider the following to be in the top ten of our values* (the things that are important to us), though we may put them in slightly different order:

• good, hard work
• our children's welfare, safety, security
• honesty, personal integrity
• gut instinct or conscience or inner voice
• intellectual growth
• fun, humour, playfulness
• healthy meals together, good food
• courtesy, etiquette, kindness

These values influence every decision we make (both big and small) and every action we take (or don't take). Sharing these values reduces the friction or conflict in our relationship because whenever we come to a fork in the road, we view things from a shared perspective.

Shared activities, hobbies or interests, while they build happy memories together, don't necessarily have the same power. And what if one or the other moves onto a new sphere of interest? How does the relationship adapt?

2. Little things add up. 

Never, ever underestimate the small, seemingly inconsequential actions that touch your beloved. Whenever I head to the kitchen for a glass of wine or water, I ask Steve if he would like one, too. Every time. When Steve gets up in the morning (an hour or so before I do), he takes care not to disturb me as I drift into light sleep before my day begins; he is a ninja in the dark. He puts the toilet seat down, the toothpaste lid on. I try (really, I do!) to put my shoes away when I come home. 

These demonstrate selflessness. They show that, even when the other partner isn't even aware of it, we are thinking of each other. They are the true acts of love, of love making.

3. When all is said and done, we have each other.

My children have a direct line to my heart. Nothing can make me weep harder than when I see one of my kids in pain or heading down a hazardous path.

But, when all is said and done, my little chicks will eventually fly the coop and set up nests of their own, and Steve and I will be together. We are the enduring unit, and it is worth investing in it.

So we've really made an effort to have regular date nights. At-home dates seem frugal and convenient, but really are not all they're cracked up to be unless you turn off ALL ELECTRONICS and focus together on a shared activity. Right. When was the last time THAT happened? As for seeing a movie together, they do add to the shared history and "inside jokes," but how much do you learn about each other? How much stronger does your bond become?

We prefer dining out. It doesn't need to be an expensive meal, but table service forces a really slow pace that pushes you to really communicate.

We've also made a point of periodic weekends away together, as I mentioned before. These restore intimacy of the sort that has nothing to do with special lubes. Though I will admit (kids: stop reading here) that physical closeness matters, too. That's all.

4. We respect each other.

This reflects the values we share. I esteem Steve in part because he reflects those values. And he, in turn, sees the same things in me. This is why I think the values are so important. Respect and, consequently, friendship, have seen us through some very rough times. (And I would say nothing erodes a relationship faster than contempt or scorn.)

---

So there you have it: what I think makes our marriage strong and happy. Our marriage is not about duration - as that implies endurance! I have no desire to win a marital marathon, but I do desire to be with someone who cares for me and for whom I care deeply and tenderly.

---

* We have actually written these values down. In 2004 we took a weekend away from the kids (then aged 8 to 15). As well as enjoying a sumptuous bed & breakfast and a four-star dinner, we set aside time to look at our marriage, our values and where we, as a family, were heading. On subsequent romantic weekends, we've done similar activities but with less rigour.

A Prickly Situation

Ah, Movember. The sacred month of Prostate-cancer Awareness, during which men grow moustaches. To remind us that they have testosterone and therefore prostates. I think that's the way it works.

This year, Steve informed me that he had joined the Movement. I groaned and informed him that, though I love him dearly, he would be going without kisses for the month.

Here's why. Some men have lush, soft moustaches that curl gently under or to the side. Like Tom Sellek's.

Now, there's a moustache I could get behind. Or in front of, as the case may be. (Source)

Steve does not. Let's take a closer look at the picture of him I posted earlier this month.

Do you see it? Here, let me help by enlarging it some:

See those hairs? They are STRAIGHT and POINTY! When he puckers up, those little needles aim RIGHT AT MY SOFT, VULNERABLE LIPS! They're like hundreds of tiny swords aiming at my mouth.

I confess, however, that I was not able to resist kissing him for the whole month. (We did have a romantic getaway mid-month.) But early in the month, Steve devised a way of dealing with it. He carefully placed his finger across his upper lip, guarding me from the offending barbs while he touched his lips to mine.

That pretty much defines chivalry, if you ask me. Only six more days.

Romantic Weekend Getaway

While I was struggling to pull myself out of my slump earlier this fall, Steve suggested that it might be time for us to plan a weekend together, just the two of us.

Since we first became parents, we've tried to do this once a year. Thanks to Steve's family, and some dear friends, we've been able to do so. Now that the kids are older, we have even greater flexibility. We had already taken this year's romantic weekend back in February, so it wasn't really time, but I think Steve sensed my emotional absence and reached out to me. (Yes, I do indeed thank God daily for this incredible blessing.)

So I booked an escape to Montreal. I caught a seat sale on train tickets because I love travel by rail. And I splurged on staying at the Fairmont Le Reine Élizabeth* hotel, which is right next door to the train station in the heart of downtown and walking distance from all sorts of restaurants and entertainment.

Steve was the photographer this time. I had lots of very kind comments on Facebook about what a lovely picture this is and how good I look. But I think the most beautiful thing about it is how happy I am when I'm with Stephen. 

Even waiting at the train station is part of the vacation. Unlike the airport where you practically disrobe and surrender your firstborn to the authorities, train travel is just so ... quaint. Slow. Quiet.

The flag at the station was still at half-staff, and the light filtering through the clouds was a surprise.

The gentle rocking of the train is always enough to lull me. (I think, as with hammocks, it hearkens back to some infant memories of being cradled.)

We pulled in to Montreal just as the sun was dipping towards the horizon and the sky turned that cobalt blue that lasts mere minutes.

Cathédrale Marie-reine-du-monde | Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral
(The tree branches are red because of the tail lights of taxis at the taxi stand.)

We went for an early dinner at the highly recommended Restaurant Julien. I did not bring my camera, because it's not that kind of place.

As I mentioned in my previous post, we did a bus tour on Saturday. For me, the hands-down highlight of the tour was the Notre Dame Basilica in Old Montreal.

The interior is one of the most ornate in North America. I just love those blues.
A phenomenal choir was rehearsing while we toured. Perfect backdrop.
BTW, this was taken without a tripod and with no flash.

Unbelievably (to me) many of the tour participants opted to go for coffee and a pastry instead. I realize that it is rare for me to turn down food, but this was well worth the trade. (And why did they come on the tour if they didn't want to see the sites?)

I can't get enough of the detailed craftsmanship in old architecture.

We got back just in time for a couple of smoked-meat sandwiches - a nosh for which Montreal is famous. We had skipped lunch after a big breakfast, so were famished.

The waiter asked if we wanted our sandwiches "medium." I thought all smoked meat was well done, so I asked what he meant. He said it referred to how much fat was in the meat used. He recommended "medium" as the best compromise, but I secretly wondered if "high" was the tastiest.
Fun tables, eh?

That evening we went to see "God of Carnage," a hysterically funny play, at the Centaur Theatre. Great script, perfect physical pratfalls and timing.

Aside from all that, Stephen took TWO NAPS EACH DAY! And I didn't take a single one. I did sleep late, however.

Steve power-napping on the train on the way home. 

And now we're home, feeling restored and reconnected.

---

* Yes it is LE Reine Élizabeth because the article refers to le hôtel, not to the actual Queen. But it drove me crazy all weekend.

P.S. I screwed up my packing. Steve made a list. I had a copy. I ignored it. Consequently, I forgot pyjamas and my cellphone charger. I wore Steve's (used) undershirt for PJs and I bought a charger (not quite the romantic lingerie I had intended). The charger will stay in my toiletries go-bag.

Pack up yer troubles in yer old kit bag!

Photo of the glass art of Dale Chihuly,
taken while I was on a business trip.

I don't know anyone who enjoys packing, except perhaps someone who is packing to run away from an abusive situation. And even then, they'd probably prefer to just wipe their feet on the welcome mat on their way out and be done with it.

I enjoy going on trips (more or less), but really do NOT enjoy the process of deciding what to put in the suitcase. I've travelled enough in the past five years or so that I've gone one thing down pat: my toiletries are already in a bag and ready to tuck into my carry-on. I keep a supply of travel-sized refills in my bottom drawer along with my bathing suit, flip-flops and a generous pareo.

[I would love to stash a spare cellphone charger and laptop charger as well, but those are too expensive to just leave hanging around.] 

[Although, now that I think of it, I have (more than once) had to buy "universal" laptop chargers. They are ^&%R%$##$! expensive, about $100! So buying an actual spare one might be a wise investment.]

[And, actually, I used to have a spare cellphone battery which I kept fully charged.]

[Have I mentioned that I've stopped taking ADHD meds? Fasten your seatbelts - you're in for a bumpy ride!]

[How, in the name of all that is holy, did my parents put up with me?]

Anyhoo.

I have learned the hard way that it is a very good idea to take an organized approach to packing. Make a packing list. Here is a short list of things I've had to acquire because of careless packing:

• pyjamas (cannot sleep without 'em)
• previously mentioned laptop charger
• coat (What? It rains in Vancouver?)
• umbrella (see above)
• sinus rinse (I now DO keep a complete spare kit in my go-bag)
• camera battery

Stephen, my frequent co-traveller, has refined the skill of creating a packing list. He never packs without one. Here is a sample of one he made for our family's 3-day trip to Toronto over last March Break*. 

OCD is a very good thing.

Isn't he thorough? No excuse for failing to pack your homework or the requisite three pairs of underwear! 

I don't make packing lists. But I do use the ones Steve creates and am very grateful for them. In fact, as I write this, he is preparing the packing list for our trip to Montreal this weekend.

What about you? Do you improvise when you pack? Or do you plan everything ahead of time?

* About that list. All that booze (and the specification for a clean outfit for Saturday night) were because we were going to a family pot-luck on the Saturday night, and our contribution was the booze.

Changing Things Up

Photo by Cathy Walters in Colorado Springs

I've heard that the secret to a long, sexually satisfying marriage is to change things up every now and then.

So last week, I warned Steve that come Saturday we were going to try something new. He didn't really take me seriously.

I know he didn't because on Saturday morning, when I said, "So tonight we make the switch," he said, "You're serious!"

Yes. Yes, I was. It was time to switch which sides of the bed we sleep on.

You see, for almost three decades, we've been in a rut, and it probably could have gone on indefinitely, but Steve suffered an injury while working on our back yard last fall: he wrecked his left shoulder. That was a year ago, and he still has pain, even after massage therapy, anti-inflammatory meds, and exercises.

As a result, he has only been able to spoon me for short periods of time before his shoulder starts hurting.

I don't know about you, but for me, spooning is one of the single greatest benefits of marriage. Even back when the kids were little and I felt "touched out" by the end of the day, I still looked forward to that comforting snuggle.

Even when summer heat and medication-induced sweatiness made me want to sprawl under a lawn sprinkler, I still craved my snuggles, and lots of them. So this year-long deprivation has really bothered me. Several times I had joked that we should switch sides of the bed so Steve could lie on his right side, but we never did it.

"What! Change?" Steve would jokingly retort, "That's the kind of crazy talk that leads to revolutions!" And then he would claim that his shoulder was feeling surprisingly better, but it never lasted.

So last night was our first night under the new order. I moved my things from my bedside table to the one on the "wrong" side. Swapped pillows.

Totally, totally weird. We'll try this for a while, but I don't know ...

A Family-Friendly Fart Chart

UPDATE: see picture at bottom. 

By way of introduction to today's topic, please view the following. If you find this offensive, please move along; there is nothing more for you to see here.



Is that not masterful? At first, both Will Farrell and Charles C. Reilly had such straight faces that I couldn't tell which one was the culprit.

And now, another one for reference. (We will be using these two examples for testing our rating system.) Wait for it ... wait for it ...


On to our discussion.

The other night as I drifted off to sleep, one of the two of us in our bed passed wind. I won't say which. The other party, however, was still wide awake enough to mutter, "Good one," the generally accepted acknowledgement of a satisfactory exercise in flatulence.

But it occurred to me that, really, we ought to be more discriminating about breaking wind. I, therefore, have constructed a Family-Friendly Fart Chart for your use and enjoyment. It will be useful in settling arguments in competitive families where farting is considered a skill.

FART FACTORS
There are, I feel, four factors we can observe in rating farts.

• Volume of air
• Stench
• Auditory properties
• Visuals

In rating farts, I think we have to agree that, in this case, worse is better. If we wanted greater discretion, we would be the Queen and farts would not exist.

VOLUME/DURATION
Volume can only be observed, except by the farter, by duration. Though as an experienced producer of gastrointestinal gases, I do wish there were a way we could better evaluate – and score – large-volume-short-duration bursts.

Description

     

Score

       

Small poof, like the baby's powder-fart

1

Less than or equal to 1-second duration

2

Up to 5 seconds duration

3

Epic duration, like Charles C Reilly's fart

4

STENCH
In this case, worse is better.

Description

     

Score

       

Odourless (I was tempted to give this 0 points, but is any fart really ever worth 0 points?)

1

Sweet-scented

2

Pungent, like Charles C Reilly's fart, stimulating olfactory senses like taste.

3

Epic, room-clearing. The kind that you smell within microseconds after delivery and raises suspicions that there are dead animals in your intestines. 

4

AUDITORY PROPERTIES

Description

     

Score

       

Silent (Note that Silent but Deadlies earn extra points in the Stench category.)

1

Quiet flutter of cheeks 

2

Squeaky (Charles C. Reilly loses points on this score)

3

Long, low rumble that reverberates melodically 

4

Liquid elements (Sadly, Charles C. Reilly loses points on this score also.) Liquid sound effects are only permissible if the farter can demonstrate extenuating conditions such as being in a bath tub or wearing a wet bathing suit. Sharts are NOT considered a bonus.

-1

VISUALS 
Here, one earns points for either stealth or other special effects.

Description

     

Score

       

Grimace  

1

Stolid facial expression. Charles C. Reilly totally nailed this one.

2

Visible evidence, like the baby's powder fart or flaming farts. BUT NOT fecal matter! (See above.)

3

Cuteness (puppies, kittehs or babies) Hey, it's my chart, so I get to make the rules!

4

---

So, after all that, who wins? The baby or Charles C. Reilly?

Charles C. Reilly's Score

Factor

     

Score

       

Volume

4

Stench

3

Auditory

2 (He loses 1 point for audible liquid at the end.)

Visual

2

TOTAL

11

Baby's Score

Factor

     

Score

       

Volume

1

Stench

1

Auditory

2

Visual

7 (bonus points for baby AND powder)

TOTAL

11

So there you have it: it really was a close call, which is why we NEED a system like this. Feel free to share it broadly. Eventually, we may be able to call out "12 with bonus points for visuals" when someone lets loose a good one.

Disclaimer: Very few people have ever called me "classy," so I don't think I've disillusioned anyone. But if I have, I apologize. Now you know the real me. 


UPDATE: I had to include this, by the ineffable Natalie Dee.

You see why I had to include it, right?

He Says, She Says

Our 45-year-old house has crappy ventilation, which is especially noteworthy in summer, when all the nicely cooled air settles on the main floor and basement, and our bedroom becomes a sauna.

We've tried various things to remedy this:

• New air conditioner
• Dehumidifier
• Ventilation fan on at all times
• New roof and an extra attic vent
• Blocked off most of the ducts in the rooms that don't get too hot
• Installed a fan in the ductwork that leads to our bedroom

And STILL I was a puddle of sweat every night. 

So today after work, I stopped at Home Depot and bought this.

Yay!

Steve and I lay down on the bed as the air wafted gently over our sweaty bodies. 

"Thank you for buying the fan," Steve said.

"Thank you for installing it right away,' I murmured.

"Yay! We can have sex again!" Steve quipped.

I paused and enjoyed the cool air.  I sighed. 

"Yay!" I said, "We may never need to have sex again!"

(It's our anniversary 27b on Thursday.)

Division of Labour

In our house, Steve does the grocery shopping. There are three reasons for this:

1. He is awake and at the store before most of the crowds, whereas I am usually asleep and snoring long after said crowds have hit the linoleum.
2. He buys what's on the list, and only what's on the list, whereas I consider the list to be a starting point.
3. I strongly dislike grocery shopping. 

The second point is the biggie. He saves us a lot of money, and we've known this for a while. Today, I proved it.

Steve and Brian have been out camping all week. When they get back this afternoon, I'm pretty sure Steve will want to shower and unpack and put all his crap away. At least, that's what I want him to do.

So this morning, despite my loathing of our dimly lit food emporium (they're saving energy, y'all), I popped out to the grocery store to stock up on the essentials -- milk, cat food, brown sugar, soap.

Yup, got them all. (Pop is so an essential.)

But while I was there, I ran across a few other things.

There's a tub of chocolate-chip cookies hiding behind the corn.

• Chips
• Pistachios
• A long butane lighter (have been needing one of those for a while now)
• Cottage cheese (lasagne this week?)
• Cherries (holy hell, those things are expensive! But did you know they are also soporific*? Apparently, they have melatonin, which makes them a good bedtime snack.)
• Cat toys - Elly's favourite kind, because I love her and she keeps losing them.
• Crusty, fresh bread
• Corn on the cob
• Cookies
• An extra thing of hand soap because I hate going all the way to the washroom to get the soap to refill the kitchen dispenser (lazy).
• A brown sugar softener - this is something I didn't know existed, but which I need!

Here's the damage.

Total bill: $117.13
Amount not on list: $58.49
Amt should have been: $58.64

So, I pretty much doubled our grocery bill. It occurs to me that I could probably quit my job if I just promised never to go shopping again. But then ...

Where would we be without cherries?

*Here is the explanation for soporific. (I've never used "lettuce" in the plural form, myself.)