Well, my family, as wonderful as they are, have managed to put a crimp in my typically last-nanosecond (hey, the tree only went up yesterday, haha) preparations for the big event. Because my sister's son and stepsons will be celebrating on Christmas Day with their "other" families (oh, divorce, how you complicate matters), our family celebration--complete with turkey dinner and at least a portion of the gift-unwrapping--will be done Christmas Eve. This means I have ONE DAY to finish all the shopping and wrapping, instead of two. And I work at 5 on the 23rd, wheeeeee! Should be a fun day. :)
I haven't even counted the gifts I've managed to get for each kid (they should each have an equal number of presents under the tree, even if I have to wrap socks and underwear, dammit), so I'm not sure who I even have to buy for in the morning. But I did manage to get a few things I need for myself to wrap and put under the tree, so the kids won't feel I've been completely left out on the big day. (I'm usually ruthless about denying myself material things, but hey, it's freaking Christmas and I could use some nice, 300 thread count, 100% combed Egyptian cotton sheets, so what the heck. Hang the expense.)
This will be my first Christmas here in Edmonton in over a decade, and I can't freaking wait. But as much as I like having family around, the weather has been brutal. I think temps have averaged out at about -15C for the last six weeks or so, and my car is covered in crud and salt from the roads. Lugging stuff in from the car to the house leaves me hypothermic, my fingers stinging from the cold, even through gloves. Lugging it back to the car, all wrapped and nice, just to lug it into my parents' condo won't be fun, either. But it will be worth it. :)
Frankly, a turkey dinner cooked by someone else, with the dishes going into someone else's dishwasher? I can't even imagine what that's like. And we're having ham at my sister's on Christmas Day, too, even if we'll be three kids short. Two evenings of wine and comfort food, family and Christmas spirit, and no mess in my house...that's freaking priceless.
Next year is soon enough for me to have everyone over to my house. I still have renoes to finish in order to make this place liveable (oy), and I'll hopefully be in a better position to dictate days off with my employer by then. And maybe next year I won't leave everything to the last possible moment, too. But I don't think so, lol.
Showing posts with label bloody weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bloody weather. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Two bedrooms (sort of) down....
Wahoo! The master bedroom is finished. And I mean finished--not one more thing left to do in there. Despite some difficulty getting the queen boxspring upstairs (we had to take it outside, around back of the house, and haul it up onto the balcony and in through the balcony doors because our inside stairway has an inconvenient bend in it, grr...), the bed's now in there, plus two nice antiquey dressers, an old steamer trunk of my grandmother's for a night table, and a lovely bench for the foot of the bed. Blammo will bunk with me on a little mat on the floor until we move, and when it's time to show the house his blankets will go in my bench, and the mat will go in the closet.
Other than a handful of pink stains that won't go away, the carpet looks nice. It didn't smell too great in there at first--after sitting wet for a week, well, there was a swamp-like redolence even after it had mostly dried--but I bought some baking soda carpet stuff and it stinks real pretty now (overpowering wildflowers, oy, but better than the reek of a bog in early spring).
The downstairs bedroom ceiling is now repaired. We'd been suffering from drippy ceiling-butthole syndrome from a leak in the tub drain upstairs, and I had to cut a piece out so the plumber could work. I managed to apply spackle in roughly the same pattern as the godawful popcorn on the rest of the ceiling, and now we just need to paint it all. The walls are done, the furniture's in, and I've even stuck a stereo in there so it looks like a typical teenager's room (only without any posters of Megan Fox or Marilyn Manson or whoever, because the kid who puts even one hole in any of these walls is the kid who will find himself gruesomely murdered by multiple thumbtack stab-wounds and then buried under the astilbes in the yard).
The hole in my daughter's bedroom wall is now mostly fixed (one more pass with sandpaper and drywall compound and no one will ever suspect that the plumber broke half the pipes while trying to replace the tub faucet), and tomorrow we start sanding and priming over the big, colorful flowers she and I painted on her walls a few years back.
In addition, my mom spent much of today weeding my mess of a garden. Due to the lack of an actual "winter" here, the weeds grow year-round, and every spring you have to break the land from a wilderness state like a bloody pilgrim. She got maybe half of the job done during the five hours of sun we had this morning and early afternoon (we're back to rain again now, and for the next week, according to the Weather Channel).
Dad drove out onto a logging road to dump the yard waste (not the bags, though, of course), and tomorrow we'll borrow my friend's truck to haul all the recycling and old carpet and broken hoses and crappy old furniture and dry garbage that was cluttering up the carport to the dump/recycling depot.
Next on the agenda: finding curtain tracks for the closets (I'm not spending a fortune on doors for the kids' closets), and then hemming the $6 queen size sheets I bought into curtains for them. I also have to call the local guy who owns the little baby back-hoe that will fit through my gate, so he can deal with the drainage problem in the backyard, and send my papers into the nearest EI branch so they can start processing my claim.
Oh, and call my lawyer to find out what the eff is going on with the clusterfuck that is my divorce negotiation. Busy busy busy...
Other than a handful of pink stains that won't go away, the carpet looks nice. It didn't smell too great in there at first--after sitting wet for a week, well, there was a swamp-like redolence even after it had mostly dried--but I bought some baking soda carpet stuff and it stinks real pretty now (overpowering wildflowers, oy, but better than the reek of a bog in early spring).
The downstairs bedroom ceiling is now repaired. We'd been suffering from drippy ceiling-butthole syndrome from a leak in the tub drain upstairs, and I had to cut a piece out so the plumber could work. I managed to apply spackle in roughly the same pattern as the godawful popcorn on the rest of the ceiling, and now we just need to paint it all. The walls are done, the furniture's in, and I've even stuck a stereo in there so it looks like a typical teenager's room (only without any posters of Megan Fox or Marilyn Manson or whoever, because the kid who puts even one hole in any of these walls is the kid who will find himself gruesomely murdered by multiple thumbtack stab-wounds and then buried under the astilbes in the yard).
The hole in my daughter's bedroom wall is now mostly fixed (one more pass with sandpaper and drywall compound and no one will ever suspect that the plumber broke half the pipes while trying to replace the tub faucet), and tomorrow we start sanding and priming over the big, colorful flowers she and I painted on her walls a few years back.
In addition, my mom spent much of today weeding my mess of a garden. Due to the lack of an actual "winter" here, the weeds grow year-round, and every spring you have to break the land from a wilderness state like a bloody pilgrim. She got maybe half of the job done during the five hours of sun we had this morning and early afternoon (we're back to rain again now, and for the next week, according to the Weather Channel).
Dad drove out onto a logging road to dump the yard waste (not the bags, though, of course), and tomorrow we'll borrow my friend's truck to haul all the recycling and old carpet and broken hoses and crappy old furniture and dry garbage that was cluttering up the carport to the dump/recycling depot.
Next on the agenda: finding curtain tracks for the closets (I'm not spending a fortune on doors for the kids' closets), and then hemming the $6 queen size sheets I bought into curtains for them. I also have to call the local guy who owns the little baby back-hoe that will fit through my gate, so he can deal with the drainage problem in the backyard, and send my papers into the nearest EI branch so they can start processing my claim.
Oh, and call my lawyer to find out what the eff is going on with the clusterfuck that is my divorce negotiation. Busy busy busy...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Okay, when I disappear, I really disappear
Yes, it has been a while. More than two weeks, in fact, since I last blogged.
Can't say I even have a good excuse. I've been putzing around the net, lurking but not commenting, ignoring my writing, not doing much housework, just generally being a bum. I think it's likely the weather getting to me as it always does when the days finally start getting dark and short.
In addition, H1N1 has hit my house. My oldest came down with a fever, aches, joint stiffness and a cough on Wednesday, my daughter--always prone to extreme gastrointestinal distress--started bazooka barfing on Saturday morning, and Blammo got me up at 4 Monday morning with vomiting and headache. He had a nasty, phlegmy cough that made him sound like Tom Waits, a fever of 102 and a stuffy nose when we got up this morning. I took the day off work so I can keep a close eye on him. Unfortunately, whenever I give him enough Tylenol to bring his fever down and dampen the headache, he stops acting sick and starts acting like a regular, hyper kid who's cooped up indoors. Oy.
So far I have not succumbed, but usually once Blammo gets something, I'm next. I'll update in a day or two to let you know.
Good news is, it seems to be mild in all three cases. Firstborn was back to school yesterday--he still had a bit of a gucky throat, but wasn't even coughing anymore. Daughter is perfectly functional, but still symptomatic enough that I'll keep her home one more day. And Blammo is possibly the least miserable sick kid in the universe. No lying around and moaning for him. A shame, really. There's nothing like a mean virus to take the edge off a kid.
I am hoping to buckle down and get some real work done soon. I've just been...sorting out some stuff in my head, and I think I've mostly figured it out. Word meters should be maxing out fairly soon.
I know, famous last words... :P
Can't say I even have a good excuse. I've been putzing around the net, lurking but not commenting, ignoring my writing, not doing much housework, just generally being a bum. I think it's likely the weather getting to me as it always does when the days finally start getting dark and short.
In addition, H1N1 has hit my house. My oldest came down with a fever, aches, joint stiffness and a cough on Wednesday, my daughter--always prone to extreme gastrointestinal distress--started bazooka barfing on Saturday morning, and Blammo got me up at 4 Monday morning with vomiting and headache. He had a nasty, phlegmy cough that made him sound like Tom Waits, a fever of 102 and a stuffy nose when we got up this morning. I took the day off work so I can keep a close eye on him. Unfortunately, whenever I give him enough Tylenol to bring his fever down and dampen the headache, he stops acting sick and starts acting like a regular, hyper kid who's cooped up indoors. Oy.
So far I have not succumbed, but usually once Blammo gets something, I'm next. I'll update in a day or two to let you know.
Good news is, it seems to be mild in all three cases. Firstborn was back to school yesterday--he still had a bit of a gucky throat, but wasn't even coughing anymore. Daughter is perfectly functional, but still symptomatic enough that I'll keep her home one more day. And Blammo is possibly the least miserable sick kid in the universe. No lying around and moaning for him. A shame, really. There's nothing like a mean virus to take the edge off a kid.
I am hoping to buckle down and get some real work done soon. I've just been...sorting out some stuff in my head, and I think I've mostly figured it out. Word meters should be maxing out fairly soon.
I know, famous last words... :P
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Global Warming...
...where are you?
In all my years living on the North Island, it's never been so cold for so long so early in the season. I mean, yes, we've had snow in the past. It typically falls for a few hours sometime in January, then melts before the kids have time to finish building their snowman. Sometimes it sticks around for a day or two--just long enough to pay for the local body shop owner's vacation in Mexico--before our regularly scheduled rain resumes.
And yes, we've had freezing conditions before. But I've never seen the water that runs in ditches and cascades down the embankments along the highway frozen solid. Last year, for a week or so, I had to go out each morning and break the crust of ice on the top of the water in my dog's bowl. This year, we had to bring the bowl inside--once we'd chiseled it off of the surface of the deck--because it had four inches of solid ice in it. As I watched a group of poor, brave, foolhardy, insane kids sledding across the street, the wind tore a Crazy Carpet from a little girl's mittened hand to carry it half a block before depositing it on the roof of my neighbor's toolshed. Guess when you only get snow a few days a year, it's hard for a kid to pass up the chance to play in it--even when you stand to lose a body part.
Now I know all of BC--all of Canada, in fact, and a good portion of the States--is in a deep freeze. And I know, those of you in Winterpeg or Edmonton or Toronto or Halifax are probably muttering under your breath right now about where I can stuff my wussy -5C (to which I will give the standard British Columbian's reply of "But, it's a damp cold."). But with gale force gusts nudging the windchill down to -10 and lower, with snow piling up inside my carport, with the windows rattling and the heat in my barely insulated house cranked, I feel like I've earned the right to moan.
So hear it is, my big whine: It's effing cold. I don't like it. So if the Sierra Club or whoever is in charge of this global warming stuff wanted to send some my way, at this point I wouldn't complain. Come on. All I'm asking for is five degrees.
In all my years living on the North Island, it's never been so cold for so long so early in the season. I mean, yes, we've had snow in the past. It typically falls for a few hours sometime in January, then melts before the kids have time to finish building their snowman. Sometimes it sticks around for a day or two--just long enough to pay for the local body shop owner's vacation in Mexico--before our regularly scheduled rain resumes.
And yes, we've had freezing conditions before. But I've never seen the water that runs in ditches and cascades down the embankments along the highway frozen solid. Last year, for a week or so, I had to go out each morning and break the crust of ice on the top of the water in my dog's bowl. This year, we had to bring the bowl inside--once we'd chiseled it off of the surface of the deck--because it had four inches of solid ice in it. As I watched a group of poor, brave, foolhardy, insane kids sledding across the street, the wind tore a Crazy Carpet from a little girl's mittened hand to carry it half a block before depositing it on the roof of my neighbor's toolshed. Guess when you only get snow a few days a year, it's hard for a kid to pass up the chance to play in it--even when you stand to lose a body part.
Now I know all of BC--all of Canada, in fact, and a good portion of the States--is in a deep freeze. And I know, those of you in Winterpeg or Edmonton or Toronto or Halifax are probably muttering under your breath right now about where I can stuff my wussy -5C (to which I will give the standard British Columbian's reply of "But, it's a damp cold."). But with gale force gusts nudging the windchill down to -10 and lower, with snow piling up inside my carport, with the windows rattling and the heat in my barely insulated house cranked, I feel like I've earned the right to moan.
So hear it is, my big whine: It's effing cold. I don't like it. So if the Sierra Club or whoever is in charge of this global warming stuff wanted to send some my way, at this point I wouldn't complain. Come on. All I'm asking for is five degrees.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Waiting is the Hardest Part...
Warning: huge, whiney, complainy post ahead...
Ever have one of those days where it just feels like you're waiting and waiting and waiting? For me, that day is today.
Waiting on that first royalty statement to find out how Healer's Touch did in its release month. Will it sell better than Crossing Swords did? I have to assume so, since it actually made the top ten at MBaM for almost a day, yay! Will Crossing Swords experience a surge in sales this month due to Healer's' release?
Waiting on final approval for the cover for Bound by Steel, which is so smokin' hot as is that I can only imagine how scorching it will be if it's undergoing a face-lift.
Waiting for reviewers to do their thing. I only wish they were all as flattering as Madame Butterfly was in her haste to read and lavish praise on Healer's Touch. At the same time, dreading the moment when those reviews go up, on the chance that they are scathing, or worse, tepid.
Waiting for my stepson and his friends to go home so I can have my house back. You have no idea what it's like to have four 21-year-olds, three kids and two adults living in a 1200 square foot, three bedroom, 1 1/2 bath house with no basement.
Waiting for my kids to go back to school so I can actually write.
Waiting for October, when Bound by Steel releases. At the same time, dreading October because I promised my editor I would have Chancellor's Bride finished and in her hot little hand by Hallowe'en.
Waiting for the rain to stop and the sun come back. Please, please come back, summer.
Waiting for customers to walk in the door. I mean, it's the last dang Wednesday of the month (otherwise known as "Welfare Wednesday"), the day everyone's government money comes in: GST rebates and child tax benefits and guaranteed income supplements and welfare cheques and pension cheques and all that, and usually it's so busy in here I can't even check my email. But today, for some reason, I have had two--count 'em--two tables since I came in at 11. It is now 1:30.
Waiting waiting waiting for the other waitress to get here at 5 so I can go home. And wait some more.
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the weather is to blame for my discontent. It's been pouring rain and cold (12C) all week--we even had hail, ffs. I guess we already had our summer on the North Island, and it was all of three and a half weeks long.
*sigh*
Ever have one of those days where it just feels like you're waiting and waiting and waiting? For me, that day is today.
Waiting on that first royalty statement to find out how Healer's Touch did in its release month. Will it sell better than Crossing Swords did? I have to assume so, since it actually made the top ten at MBaM for almost a day, yay! Will Crossing Swords experience a surge in sales this month due to Healer's' release?
Waiting on final approval for the cover for Bound by Steel, which is so smokin' hot as is that I can only imagine how scorching it will be if it's undergoing a face-lift.
Waiting for reviewers to do their thing. I only wish they were all as flattering as Madame Butterfly was in her haste to read and lavish praise on Healer's Touch. At the same time, dreading the moment when those reviews go up, on the chance that they are scathing, or worse, tepid.
Waiting for my stepson and his friends to go home so I can have my house back. You have no idea what it's like to have four 21-year-olds, three kids and two adults living in a 1200 square foot, three bedroom, 1 1/2 bath house with no basement.
Waiting for my kids to go back to school so I can actually write.
Waiting for October, when Bound by Steel releases. At the same time, dreading October because I promised my editor I would have Chancellor's Bride finished and in her hot little hand by Hallowe'en.
Waiting for the rain to stop and the sun come back. Please, please come back, summer.
Waiting for customers to walk in the door. I mean, it's the last dang Wednesday of the month (otherwise known as "Welfare Wednesday"), the day everyone's government money comes in: GST rebates and child tax benefits and guaranteed income supplements and welfare cheques and pension cheques and all that, and usually it's so busy in here I can't even check my email. But today, for some reason, I have had two--count 'em--two tables since I came in at 11. It is now 1:30.
Waiting waiting waiting for the other waitress to get here at 5 so I can go home. And wait some more.
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the weather is to blame for my discontent. It's been pouring rain and cold (12C) all week--we even had hail, ffs. I guess we already had our summer on the North Island, and it was all of three and a half weeks long.
*sigh*
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Ugh, It's Raining. Again.
June. And raining. Not a gentle spring shower, a deluge with gale-force winds. The clouds are so low and dark, my whole house looks like a dungeon. Welcome to summer on the northern tip of Vancouver Island.
At this moment, my five-year-old is having a school-sponsored swimming lesson in an outdoor pool in the middle of a freezing, torrential downpour. My handy-dandy-man Alan is chopping up my balcony railing while bent beneath frigid sheets of driving rain. For my part, I am debating whether it's worth it to get soaked crossing the yard to the place where my table-saw sits under its veil of spiderwebs, so I can rip this window casing to width (since the idiots who built my house didn't make anything standard, from window-depths to the length of drainpipe under the bathroom sink).
Can't install the baseboards until the sliding door is framed. Can't frame the door until the casing is ripped. Can't rip the casing until the table-saw is unearthed. Can't unearth the table-saw without going out into the rain.
So you know what? Screw it. I'm staying inside with my laptop, two lovely gentlemen and their reluctant bride, and I'm not even going to feel guilty about it. Maybe if I let myself get lost in the writing, I'll stop wondering why I live in this godforsaken soggy wilderness where porphyria sufferers roam free...
At this moment, my five-year-old is having a school-sponsored swimming lesson in an outdoor pool in the middle of a freezing, torrential downpour. My handy-dandy-man Alan is chopping up my balcony railing while bent beneath frigid sheets of driving rain. For my part, I am debating whether it's worth it to get soaked crossing the yard to the place where my table-saw sits under its veil of spiderwebs, so I can rip this window casing to width (since the idiots who built my house didn't make anything standard, from window-depths to the length of drainpipe under the bathroom sink).
Can't install the baseboards until the sliding door is framed. Can't frame the door until the casing is ripped. Can't rip the casing until the table-saw is unearthed. Can't unearth the table-saw without going out into the rain.
So you know what? Screw it. I'm staying inside with my laptop, two lovely gentlemen and their reluctant bride, and I'm not even going to feel guilty about it. Maybe if I let myself get lost in the writing, I'll stop wondering why I live in this godforsaken soggy wilderness where porphyria sufferers roam free...
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