Nervous Knitting

So, when I'm nervous, what do I do?

Well, if I can get away with it, I spend every waking moment playing Scrubbles and Bejeweled2, and checking to see if I have any  notes on my latest entries, but if I have to be away from the computer, I sit on the couch and knit.

And I've been nervous this last while.

So I took out some brown yarn, and I started knitting.


And when I got tired of the brown-ness of it all, I switched to golden yarn.  But that was boring, so I added in some green with the gold.



Ooh, The greenies turned into a little string of hearts.  Speaking of hearts, I *heart* the Shetland Knitter's Handbook that Zappel-Katya sent me.  Such a wealth of patterns, just waiting to be plumbed.

But you can only knit green hearts for so long before that gets boring, and you start thinking "What happens if we NEVER get to go to France...?" so it was time to change colours.  Again.  Grey sounds like a good colour.  Well, it's good for two rounds, and then it gets kind of boring, so bring back the gold.  But not too much gold.  Add in some dark red, too.



And there goes another 10 rounds of knitting so I don't have to think about the passports, while the kids hang from the chandeliers and tape each others' bedroom doors shut.

Diamonds are so very Last Hour, though.  What next?  I'm still liking the red... maybe just  a bit of cream...


Ah, X's and O's.  Classy.  And there go 11 rounds of me not thinking about Not Traveling while watching Perry Mason solve the un-solvable crime.

I'm missing the green, though.  Haven't seen it since the round of hearts.

Aha, time for some little green boxes.


And after all that two-colour knitting, really, how hard could THREE-colour knitting be?



Suddenly, all that nervous energy manifests itself into the big chunk of knitting.


And because it was such a dreadful winter day outside today, I had to take one last photo.


All I need to do is sew up the bottom (the brown end), and make handles (I'm gonna try a new way of making handles), and then toss this puppy into the washer, and I'll have another purse.

Nervous energy.
It's what's for dinner.

I used to think I could knit...

And then I saw this....

Egads!  I just hope some of this knitting was done on a machine, because honestly?  That's a TONNE of knitting.  Actually, because I think it was done in Montreal, that would make it a Metric Tonne of knitting.

Kelly has a sleep-over friend here, so we are off to the Exploratorium.  Skip was going to stay home and "babysit" Nate while I took the girls (read:  He was going to set up StarCraft on the computers, and just play all day) until I told him that I would be making the boys a chore list for while I was gone  (Nate heard "chore list" and suddenly didn't want to stay home any more) that would include "folding all the laundry" and "vacuuming", and suddenly, all the kids want to go to the Exploratorium.

In the rain.

Yikes, I hope that it's not uber-popular this morning there.  I don't want to be elbow to elbow with a bunch of drowned folks who got soaked coming in from the parking lot. (that'll be my lot in life today, I think).

---

On the passport front, because I know you're all dying to know what's up with that...

My best friend is very well connected in Canadian politics.

Who knew?

Right now, she's bending the ear of some Deputy Minister of some Big Important Domain over there in Ottawa, and I hope that she's not compromising her Neutral Status by going out on a limb for me like this.  And if it works?  I'll be laughing all the way to France.  If it doesn't?  I'll still be laughing that she'd be willing to do this for me.

On hold with Passport Canada

After chatting with the 'emergency toll free number' person in Quebec (found on the list of consulates online) who told me they can't do anything until I hear from the consulate, and then after calling the consulate in San Francisco, and getting an answering machine (with the very helpful message of "due to heavy inquiry volume, calls may not be returned for 24-48 hours"), I took all the kids down to Walgreens, where a very helpful gent did a re-take of a most somber Skip (and did it for free when I said the last photo was rejected), now I am on hold with Passport Canada.

(Interesting aside: When you call the 1-800 number for passports, you're given a 4-item menu, and you can ONLY choose between those 4 things. Then, if you choose one of those, you get a very bland automated voice that tells you stuff that you can read for yourself on the web site! Boring. BUT! If you hit 0 0 0, you'll get punted to a real switchboard, and that's where I am now...)

Ooh. There are... 3 callers ahead of me.

.
.
.

There is ONE caller ahead of me....

I am the NEXT caller to be answered....

Back in a jiff... Yay!



Oh crap.

"Well, I am sorry, but all you can do is you can re-submit the application, and it will take six weeks."

Yeah, that's really helpful. But there's a different address to submit the re-submitted passport to, and MAYBE that will get dealt with faster. AND! She gave me an idea. She said if I already have the plane tickets (I DO!), that I should photocopy the ticket, and attach it WITH A LETTER on the application, and it might get processed faster.

Excuse me, I'm off to write a heart-string pulling letter to go along with this re-submitted application.

Passport Update

The DHL guy just came.

Good news?

Nope.

Bad.

Skip's passport application was rejected. His "neutral" expression in the photo wasn't neutral enough.

We are now up the proverbial creek. Calls to the Consulate have been made, but not returned.

The one option is for me to fly to Canada to apply in person. Alas, MY passport is still being processed in Ottawa, so I cannot cross the border.

Hello Adrenaline. I hate you.

DHL. Sorry we missed you.

Skip and Kelly are off school this week.

So don't call Child Protective Services, but I left them at home this morning with long lists of "this is what you need to do before you play on the computers", while I went off to the Travel Agent to pick up the airplane tickets and the rental car agreement (for Marseilles!  Did you know they have car rental places in Marseilles?  Yeah, I'm easily amused, and, of course, ridiculously naive in thinking that exotic places like the South of France wouldn't have station wagons or SUVs for the tourists to drive rough-shod across their verdant expanses), and then went out for lunch with a girlfriend.

And what happened while I was away?

DHL came for a visit.

That would be DHL Worldwide Shipping Express...

With an envelope addressed to Skip Parker, requiring a signature.

Unfortunately, when Skip answered the door, the delivery dude said "I'll need your dad to sign for this..." so I've got this lovely "DHL:  Sorry we missed you!  We'll call back tomorrow"  sticker on my desk.

Hmm.  I wonder what might be in that envelope.

It's coming from Ottawa, Ontario...

I will say, though, that this worries me a bit.  While this envelope MAY contain Skip's passport, my credit card was never CHARGED for the processing of his passport.  So, the pessimist in me says "All this envelope contains is the rejected forms for his passport, and we're screwed."

Oh, the joys of being a pessimist.

---

Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

Yesterday, thanks to Dead Presidents, Ken had the day off work, and we pulled Nate from school to have a Family Adventure.

We headed off to a place we'd never been before.

The North Bay.

Mount Tamalpais, to be exact.

What a great place.  And the weather was foggy and iffy at home, but lovely up in the North Bay.

And there were cyclists everywhere, thanks to the Tour de California.  We seemed to hit a sweet spot on the tour, in that everywhere we drove, we saw lots of traffic-director types, with the orange vests, and the big tickets on lanyards around their necks, but there was no traffic hold-ups anywhere.  I think we were just ahead of the rush of bikers.

We started at Stinson Beach, watching the surfers.



And I couldn't get enough of the signs everywhere (of course, I didn't take a picture.  Odd!) that said "BEWARE!  Great White Sharks inhabit these waters.  Surf at your own risk"

Seriously!?  When I was growing up, the thought NEVER crossed my mind that I'd be living in a place with signs like that.  I was thinking my type of "local signage" would be something like "Beware, Falling Ice", or "Moose Crossing".

After a bit of beach time, we went up Mount Tam for a random hike.  Pulled into the first parking lot we found, and took the first trail.

Ooh.  Wildlife!


Ooh.  Scenery!


Ooh!  Rocks to climb!






Ooh, random tourists who offer to take a family shot!


And then, once we were all hiked out, we went back to Stinson Beach for lunch, and had the BEST LUNCH EVER at a place called the Parkside Cafe.  Srsly!  Best.  Food.  Evah!  All three kids licked their plates clean.  And we've got picky kids.

Ooh, look!  Spring is right around the corner.

My Pet Book

Nate came home from school today with his first published book.

He's pretty darned proud of it.

I am too.

Here's the text

Title: My Pet Book [so I'm thinking "hmm. A book about pets?" Oh, au contraire!]

I have a pet book
He is wild.
He has arms.

He does sign language.
I ride him to school!

He eats soap and toys, but not cards.
He can change to being small.

He only plays "Gulp!" with me.

He is like a flying carpet.
I can read him when I am riding on him.

by Nate.

OK, I know it's no pulitzer, but good golly, I'm pretty proud of the kid. And his imagination. Which he doesn't get from me. Ok, maybe he does.

Now it's off to Kung Fu for all 3 kids, and then a special seminar for Nate on Lion Dancing after supper.

Happy Valentine's Day

Seen tonight on my online Visa Card Tracking Page:

2/13/2008 2/14/2008 PASSPORT/PASSEPORT GATINEAU ON $97.21
2/14/2008 2/14/2008 INTL SRVC FEE - A FIN CHG $2.92

Of course, that's just the processing fee for *my* passport. If Skip's doesn't come through, I'll still be staying in California with him, come March 21st.

But still, cause for celebration.

Hello Betsy. Redux

Skip and I went out for lunch today with neither of the other siblings.

Because we could.

He decided that maybe the spicy tuna roll wasn't all THAT spicy, so the waiter said "Would you like some spicy sauce?"   Of course, he said "Sure!"

The spicy sauce?  It does not lie.



Meanwhile Kelly, in her alternate identity as Betsy Ross was having a par-tay of her own back in Third Grade.

Oh, and did I mention that there was a prize for the best costume?

Ahem.  There was a prize for the best costume.

Hmm.  I wonder who won it?





Betsy, I'm pretty darned proud of your costume, if I do say so myself.


Pride goes before a fall, though.

Seems I ate a bad ebi at the sushi place at lunch, and I was rewarded with the Ninja Squirts while Skip was at Kung Fu.

But then again, silver lining... the frantic 20 minute drive home was like one long isometric exercise, and my butt has never been so well toned.

Sorry. You didn't need to know that.

Here.  To assuage my guilt, I give you a little tour of how things will be soon in your own garden, if you're one of those trapped-in-the-ice beloved friends of mine.

Soon the sun will shine, and the ground will thaw, and you will be rewarded.






And lest you think that I live in a paradise, I give you my well-decorated Front Porch.



Yup.  The Halloween Pumpkin is now masquerading as the Valentine's Gourd, and the dried-and-crispy wreath from Christmas?  It's the  President's Day Potpourri!

Phone Karma... or not.

OK, I just had a great note, from someone VERY astute on the last entry to the effect of..

"You lost your cell phone? Phone Karma, perhaps?"

(that would be because I LIED to telemarketers all day Tuesday)

And I thought "Good grief! She's RIGHT!"

But just to be safe, before I called Cingular (or AT&T, or whoever owns them now), I would retrace my steps and call the eleventy-three places that I visited yesterday.

Hello, Michaels, did you find a cell phone?
Let's see. Can we put you on hold for a few hours? Great! You still there?.... nope. No cell phones here. Sorry.

Hello, Kmart? Did you find a cell phone in your store?
Let me transfer you, no! Put you on hold! No! Send you to the head office. And back again! And... NO! We don't have any phones in the Lost and Found.

Hello, Safeway? Any cell phones in your lost and found?
Here, listen to some musak... sorry, no cell phones here. Good luck!

Hello Chevron self-serve (and car wash) Any phones turned in to your lost and found yesterday?
Nope. So sorry. So very very sorry. Such bad luck for you.

Hello, Elementary school, I think I might have left my cell phone there yesterday when I was working in the office and the library and the classroom. Anybody turn one in to the office?
Let me look... sorry, Kemma, I don't see one. But you better call your provider. Do you know once my brother lost his phone, and he called and Cingular's customer service phones were out of order, and when he finally found his phone, someone had used it to call MEXICO. FOR TWO HOURS! But he was lucky, because Cingular admitted that their phones had been down, so my brother couldn't cancel his phone right away, so they refunded his money, but if you don't phone... hold on, I've got a call on the other line...

Yes. I think it's the whole pay back for lying on the phone...

Hello butt? Meet teeth of my folly.

So I'm rooting around on my desk, because SOMEWHERE is an old Cingular bill, so I can find the customer service number. Ah, there it is. Let's just make sure that this is the bill for MY cell number... yup. Hey, just for kicks, I'll call my phone one more time. Maybe I was just DEAF the other seventeen times I phoned it last night.

Ring....

Ring....

Ring....

"Hello?"

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

I was caught off guard. I just gaped.

me: Hello?

Them: Hello?

Me: Hey! This is great. Who is this?

Them: Who is this? Who is calling?

Me: This is Kemma! Kemma Parker! (like they should KNOW!)

Them: Hello.

Me: No. I'm the owner of the phone you're holding. I lost it. And now it's found! I'm so happy! Who is this?

(and then I realize that this might be some drug-dealing thug who has taken ownership of my phone, and is only using it for nefarious purposes, and now knows the NAME OF THE OWNER, and I've just interrupted a big multi-thousand-dollar [because thugs around here are probably small-potato types, if they have to resort to using phones that they find on the ground] drug deal, and now I am a MARKED WOMAN. And so I suddenly break out into foul smelling armpit-squirting sweat)

Them: Oh great! This is Middle School. We were just going to phone your home phone that you've got listed on your address book. Shall we hold it for you, or do you want us to give it to your son?

Me: I'll be RIGHT THERE!!!!!!

Can you see me?

I'm doing a happy dance.

It looks suspiciously like the potty dance.

Actually, it *is* the potty dance.

I'll be right back.

Annnnnnnd... she fainted

Because today is one of those days where everything has to fall into place or the house of cards comes tumbling down, and coordinating almost depends completely on keeping in touch with folks at the next event...

THIS would be a good time to lose my cell phone.

DEMMET!  (if I may be allowed to use some of my 'sewing language')

I know I had it when I left the house yesterday.  It was in the pocket of my jacket.

I know that it wasn't in my pocket when I got home after school.

It was fully charged, so it's not just lying dead and idle in the bottom of my purse... but I did check that first.

I walked around the house phoning it while the kids were doing homework.  No go.

I had Ken phone me while I rooted through the car.  No go.

There are a few places that i can check today.  I made 2 grocery-store trips yesterday.  I filled up at Chevron.  I was at Skip's school, and Kelly's school, in the library and the office AND her classroom.  I went to Michael's for craft supplies for Kelly's Class' Valentine's Day Party today and Nate's 100th Day of School party today.  I went to K-mart to grab Valentine's Day goodies for Skip to take in to his English class (egads, I've gotta find those and put them in the car for today's marathon of running-between-schools).  And every one of those places might be the place where that slippery little phone jumped out of my pocket.

Sigh.  Just thinking about the back-tracking I should do is making me tired.

So here's a little shot of what kept me up until nearly midnight last night.



Betsy needed a new bonnet.

It would've taken much less time, but I put it together inside out the first time.  Yes.  Yes, I did.

Lying liars, and the lies they tell.

Skip seems to be on track to have a half-decent "No Tobacco" presentation ready to go at 8:30 tomorrow morning. It's gonna be one of those whacky will-it-all-fall-into-place mornings, though. He's got Jazz Band at 7:15, and I've promised one of Nate's classmates' parents that I would take their daughter to school all this week while they're out of the country and Grandma is watching the kids, so I've got the 3-school tango thing going down in the morning, but I have to do it all EARLY because I need to be back at Middle School at 8:25 to get Skip, so he can be in Kelly's class by 8:30, when they come in from the playground for Roll Call.

And crap, I just remembered that I promised a friend that I'd go to the gym with her tomorrow at 9. That ain't happening. Whoopsie.

But I'm pretty sure that things won't go smoothly.

Why?

Because I'm a lying liar, and I lie, lie, lie.

Exhibit A:

The phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Phone: long awkward silence, followed by a rustling and a quick, chirpy "Hello!" [nuts, it's the automatic dialer!]
Me: Hello?
Phone: Hello, is this Mrs. Parker?
Me: Sorry, she's out right now, can I take a message?

Exhibit B:

The phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Phone: another long awkward silence, another quick, chirpy "Hello!"
Me: [sigh]
Phone: This is Christie from the Something-or-other Consumer Opinion Something-Something.
Me: [sigh]
Phone: First, I would like to assure you that we are not selling anything, nor trying to sway you in any way, and this call is going to be short. Are you the decision maker in the home?
Me: [oh, I could lie and say no... but I'm remembering Exhibit A from earlier in the day] Yes, I am.
Phone: And for demographic purposes, can I have your age.
Me: Thirty Seven [noting the irony of 'I'm not old... I'm 37' from Monty Python]
(Lightning doesn't strike. Hmm. I just passed a lie)
Phone: Wonderful. And now, all these questions will be about technology in the home. Do you have a working DVD player attached to a working television in your home?
Me: [thinking: ALL THESE QUESTIONS? This is going to take forever...] Oh, I'm sorry, we don't have a DVD player.
Phone: Oh, well thank you for your time. *click*

Now, TECHNICALLY, apart from the blatant lie about my age, I was truthful here. We don't have A DVD player, we have TWO. And more, if you could the fact that the computers can play DVDs.

Exhibit C:

The phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Phone [another awkward silence and chirpy (yet masculine) "Hello!"]
Me: rats
Phone: Is this Mrs. Parker?
Me: um... no... speaky... English... Bye-bye





For those of you playing the "Will Her Passport Come In Time" home game, there is nothing to report. Hmm. Maybe if I was more truthful, I would be rewarded with Passport News.

Putting on the Power Lipstick

Skip jumped into the van on Monday with a grin on his face.

"Mom, we've got another Extra Credit Assignment in Health Class" he began. "And this one is worth more than bringing in glue sticks, I think."

I should hope so. This "extra credit" was to go to an elementary school, and present a project to a class of 4th or 5th graders, detailing the dangers of tobacco use.

Oh, and it had to be done on Thursday.

Yes. Tomorrow.

But he was so jazzed about it, that I decided to help him do whatever it took to make it happen. He'd already spoken with the teacher and asked if he could present to 3rd graders instead, as he really REALLY wanted to go back to Badger Elementary and give his talk to Kelly's class, which is being taught by the woman who taught him 4th grade.

So when we got home, I helped him draft a letter, and I sent it to Kelly's teacher from my email address (any unknown addresses tend to get flagged by the district, and held in limbo before being punted into spam).


********************\

Dear Mrs Hawthorn

Do you remember me? I am Kelly's big brother, and you taught me 4th Grade, three years ago.

Today in Health (my elective this trimester), we were given the option to do an activity where we would go to Elementary Schools and talk to kids about the dangers of tobacco. For my class, it is on Valentine's Day, in the morning, right after school starts, like right after Boot Camp for your class.

If you think you have 45 minutes early that day, could I do it for your class? We are supposed to ask teachers if we can come and talk in the morning, but MiddleSchool gets out at lunch that day, and because I have to walk home past Badger Elementary, I could come in the afternoon, too.

This is optional, and you do not have to say "yes".

This is what I would be doing:

First I would introduce myself, and tell them what I am doing (telling them about the dangers of tobacco), and why I am doing it (because I want them to be healthy as they get older). Then I would ask the class what they already know about tobacco, and I would write it up on the white board. If they have ideas that are not right, I would give them the facts (we have just finished a unit on Tobacco in Health Class). I would tell them other facts about tobacco that they might not know, like what products are made from tobacco, and the chemicals in it, too.

I have some short activities that I would do with the kids. One shows them the chemicals that are in smoke, and one shows what one of the smoking diseases is like (emphysema).

Then I would summarize what we've learned with the kids, and remind them that cigarettes are very addicting, and that you can get hooked on them very quickly. I think Mr. HealthTeacher has some things for me to give away to the kids to remind them to stay away from tobacco, and then I would leave.

I'm not sure if Mr. HealthTeacher has stuff to give away, but I'll have stuff to give away if he doesn't.

Sincerely,

Skip Parker

*********************************

So I sent that off on Monday right after school, and hoped for the best.

But I kind of had misgivings. Mrs. Hawthorn is known for packing a LOT of learning into a TINY amount of time, and Thursday afternoon is scheduled to be a Valentine's party, so I imagined her morning would be pretty packed, too. Also, and I told Skip, giving a teacher less than a week's notice is NEVER a good idea, and even though he'd JUST been given this assignment from Mr. Health, there was a good chance that the timing just wouldn't work.

We heard nothing from Mrs. Hawthorn yesterday, and so when I dropped Skip off at school this morning, I said "Honey, I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to assume that Mrs. Hawthorn just can't fit you in. Maybe she'll let you do it another day..."

Of course, irony being what it is, when I got home from running errands this morning, there was an email from her, saying that she would MAKE IT WORK, to help Skip out.

Egads.

But Skip would be pleased.

So when I went to get Skip, I gave him the good news. "Honey! I heard from Mrs. Hawthorn. She says you can do it tomorrow morning."

His face fell. "But mom, we needed to get special permission slips from Mr. Health this morning, and the kids that HAD heard from teachers got extra instruction from him. I didn't go with the group, because you said that it wasn't going to work.'

Crap.

OK, Plan B. We'll go back to Badger Elementary, and tell Mrs. Hawthorn thankyou for making room in the schedule for us, but we needed to know earlier, and now Skip doesn't have to equipment and supplies that he'd need to do a good presentation.

Mrs Hawthorn was pleased to see Skip, but worried when she saw his long face.

Within moments, she had pulled up Mr. Health's email, and was letting him know that even though Skip hadn't been in on the 'inner sanctum' talks this morning, that he was welcome AND EXPECTED in her class.

And now I must put on the Power Lipstick, and go down to Middle School to hunt down Mr. Health and find out what exactly Skip is supposed to be presenting at this big (and hyped in Kelly's class today) show tomorrow morning.

Mr. Health better not give me the hairy run-around, or I'll have to ask for my glue sticks back.

Hello, Betsy

Kelly came bouncing home from school on Thursday with news.

News!

"Guess what?

On Valentine's Day, we all get to dress up like our Biography Hero.  Isn't that great!?  So I get to dress up like Betsy Ross.  What did she wear?"

Ok, let's think about this.  It's Thursday.  In one week my daughter needs to dress up like a Revolutionary War Figure.

"thinks*

Nope.  I don't happen to have any Revolutionary War era garments just kicking around.  And poop, darn and rats, Joann's Fabrics isn't having their 99-cent pattern sale until the end of the month.  I'm gonna have to...


Dun-dun-DUNNNNNN

pay full price for a pattern.

Oh!  The Humanity!

But I suck it up, because I am a good mom like that, and we race off after school yesterday to grab a pattern while Skip is at game club after school, and Nate is still in class. 

"Can I pick out fabric, mom?"

"Nope!  If I have to pay full price for a pattern, I'm not gonna get dinged for the yardage, too.  Oh look!  Simplicity patterns are 40% off, anyways.  Whew.... but you STILL can't buy fabric for the dress.  I'm sure we have something at home... let's go!"

I think it was our fastest Joann's Expedition, ever.

---

This morning, after coming back from a meeting that Ken and I were invited to attend, I got down to work.

We had this old duvet cover that I'd made a few years back.  I'd made a math error (yes!  Can you believe it?), and the duvet cover had never been quite long enough for our bed, which irked Ken to no end, as his feet would stick out the bottom of the duvet, and get freezing cold every night.  SO when I said "Honey, I'm going to cannibalize this old duvet cover for Kelly's Betsy Ross dress, is that ok?" he was over the moon with joy.

Goodbye, old duvet cover.


11 am.  The pattern comes out.






12pm - 4pm  Let's draw the curtain across the less-than-pretty sight of me fighting with the bodice, and saying unladylike words when the sleeves didn't obey my will.

Please.  YOU would have said unkind words, too.  Those sleeves had DARTS at the elbow!  Darts! 




There are no photos of this fiasco.




5pm:  Hello Betsy Ross. Again.



Side view



Curtsey for the camera


Of course, then I looked up Betsy Ross on the internet, and saw that all the paintings of her have her wearing a very simple Quaker-style black or grey gown with severe white collar and cuffs.  Whoopsie.  Kelly is the "new" Betsy Ross.  The one that left the Quaker church, and was disowned after she married John Ross in the Church of England tradition.  Yup.  That's what she is, all right.

In Other News

I heard from Skip's teacher.

He could bring in glue-sticks for 'extra credit'. Apparently, every assignment is produced on a hand-out, and is glued into the notebook. They go through glue-sticks like water.

When Skip told me he could bring in 3 glue sticks and get a bit of extra credit, I was ALL OVER THAT.

So yesterday, he brought in glue sticks.

And what did that bump his grade up to?

A BEE PLUS.

Say what?

Apparently, if he brings in 3 boxes of tissues, he can get MORE extra credit.

HELLO STRAIGHT A STUDENT.

Ahem. Does anyone see anything perhaps even marginally wrong with this?

Quadruple Eek

Well, Skip's and my passport renewal applications went into a Fed Ex envelope at 9:45 this morning, and are now on their way to Gatineau Quebec. They should be arriving in under 24 hours.

They are also going on Every Last Prayer Chain I Know.

Why?

Because renewals (especially from the United States), can take approximately... SEVEN weeks to process.

Our tickets to France (via Amsterdam. boo yeah)...?

Seven weeks and ONE DAY from now.

Colour me anxious.


I spent much of yesterday on the phone. Is there a way to expedite the passports by paying extra? Why no, that would be bribery.

Is there a way to get a passport at a Canadian Consulate in the USA? Nope. All Canadian consulates suspended passport-issuing operations as of 9-11. Thank you SO much, Bin Laden. You're really cramping my holiday, here.

What does the High Commissioner say about my dilemma?

"Thankyou for calling the Canadian High Commission for San Francisco. You have reached bla-dee-bla-blah, deputy undersecretary to the assistant hoity-toity. Please leave a message after the tone.... BEEEP"


What does the Emergency Toll Free Direct Line for Canadians Abroad say?

"Wow, you're in a bind, eh. You know that Canadians living in the US really get the brunt of the ignoring when it comes to passport issues. It's like you're the red-headed step-child or something. You're pretty much out of luck, eh? I'd suggest flying to Canada and applying in person. But the wait at the Vancouver office is about a week and a half, and they won't mail something internationally, because that sounds suspicious..."



But Ken was talking to folks at work, many of whom are Canadian, and several of whom just renewed passports. While our mileage may vary, their turn-around time was 3-4 weeks.

Let's all pray, shall we?


The one bad thing about being in Passport Purgatory?

Everyone and their dog HAS A PASSPORT HORROR STORY.

It's like when you say you're pregnant, and then everyone goes into gory detail about their friend that got pregnant, and then had to be attached to an IV for her whole pregnancy so she wouldn't lose the baby, and then she got varicose veins that HUNG OUT HER VAGINA, and then when she went into labour, it was four days of back-to-back contractions, ALL OF IT was back labour, and then she pushed for EIGHTY-SEVEN HOURS, and the vacuum extractor broke off inside her, and the baby's head was the biggest the doctor had ever seen, and they had to use high forceps, and the epidural never worked, and the baby weighed TWELVE AND A HALF POUNDS.

Yeah, whatever.

*waves it away*


But, because I'm all anxious and stuff, I have a really sparkly-clean shower.

I wish I could clean when I'm *not* anxious. It'd be so much better for EVERYONE involved.

Triple Eek

Thanks to the diligence of one of my beloved readers (Kisses to Mrs. Abominable!), I am now busting a move to get passport renewals in for Skip and myself. I was sick when I went to the (obviously up to date) web site, and realized that the site that I was getting all my info from was valid until LAST December, and not THIS December. Of course, if I had just nagged Ken more back in December (when I'd said "Eek! I have to renew my passport!" and he'd said "oh, it's valid until May. Don't worry about it") I would already have my shiny new passport in my hand, and I wouldn't be suffering from the Ninja Squirts. Yes, you have to love stress, and the wondrous ways it affects my digestive tract.

But, as is my wont (and has been since the college days), when the stress level rises, and there is something that Definitely Needs To Be Done Yesterday, my system goes into Tilt Mode, and I do stuff like re-arrange my cupboards, and wash my floors. So now I have bright shiny clean floors that you could eat off of, but I still haven't found my birth certificate, which needs to be sent off as part of the Passport Renewal.

Nothing like a little car crash to shut down the Civilized World.

A tanker overturned on the 101 this afternoon, and the entire Bay Area went into gridlock. Or so it seemed. I was taking the kids home from Kung Fu, and the main drag was a parking lot. What the...? Of course, I passed the point of no return (should I pull out onto El Camino? Should I turn around, and take the back way through the hills to get home? Oh, thanks for letting me into the gridlock!) when I finally heard on the radio what was the cause of the hold-up. And then it took me 20 minutes to go a mile to the nearest place that I could get off the main drag.

Where I promptly pulled into a Walgreens, and had passport photos taken of Skip and I.

yes, I am on the ball.


I have the passport paperwork spread all across the kitchen table.

Really, I should go find my birth certificate. I wish I knew what Ken did with it when we renewed our passports 5 years ago... but he's stuck in traffic, trying to get home from work, along with a hundred and eleven thousand and two of his closest friends.


Can I just forget about going to France, and just knit something? This is just too much stress for my little brain.


And Kelly's teacher just emailed me about sewing costumes for 21 class puppets... a job that I said, back in September, would be a piece of cake. And when does she need these costumes? Why on March 24th... when we'll be in France.... (if I ever find my birth certificate, and get my passport renewed.. and if our travel agent can even find us five tickets on the same flight there and back. Eek. Too. Much. Stress)


Oh, and because everything can't go smoothly...

I got a midterm printout from Skip's school.

The school doesn't send out midterm printouts... unless YOUR CHILD IS FAILING A CLASS...

Yes. Goodbye Honor Roll of the First Trimester.

Hello, life of juvenile delinquency and crime.

I immediately freaked out all over him. It wasn't pretty. And then I emailed the teacher to find out what was up with that.

Turns out that in this class.... (an elective, so fortunately it's half over, and cross your fingers so he doesn't have to take it again!)... 70.9% gets you a C-minus.

Hmm. Back in the day (you know, when we walked uphill in the snow to school, and then uphill through the mud and hurricanes home every day... and you had to write your own textbooks, because nobody knew anything), if I got a 70% grade, I'd be bringing home a nice shiny B for that effort. The C-minus grade was reserved for the kids that really had failed the class, but the teacher didn't want to see them again, so gave them the booby-prize mark that said "Really, you know nothing, but I'm passing you so you'll be someone else's problem".

I guess that's inflation for you.

When I found out that little tidbit, I told Skip that I'd be happy if he just made it through this class ALIVE. The 70.9% mark is a result of not handing in 3 of 17 homework assignments, two of which he was absent for. And here I had nightmares that he was mouthing off in class, or lighting fire to his notebook, or thumbing his nose at authority and not handing in ANY of his work.

Sheesh.


But now, if you'll excuse me, I have to save this, and then run around the house with my hands waving in the air, screaming "I'll never get to France, I'll never get to France"

And then get up in 5 hours to get Skip ready so Ken can take him to Early Period, so he can rehearse for the Jazz Festival this weekend.

Double Eek

OK, now I'm freaking out because we're going to France in March, and my passport expires in May, and almost EVERYWHERE in the world expects you to have a passport that still has six good months left on it if you travel to their country.  Well, except for France (so I've read), where, if you're Canadian, you can travel around there right up until the bitter end of the very last day of non-expiry.  At least, I hope that web site was correct, when I read it...

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I haven't laughed so hard in a Long, Long Time.

This may be one of the top funniest tattoo stories ever.

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Yesterday, in a fit of madness, I told Kelly I'd teach her how to sew, and we'd make her pants.  With stretchy fabric!

What was I thinking?

Oh yeah...

I was thinking "how cuuuuuuuuuute!"

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Felting, O felting, how addicting you are.

I should be doing a dozen other things, but instead...

Before;;;



After...



Nope.  Still too much stitch definition.  I just ran it through the wash/dryer once more, and now I'm blocking it over one of my grapefruit bowls.

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A little shake-up this morning while we were having breakfast.  All of a sudden it sounded like the house was being attacked.

Oh, wait.  It's just hail.

(picture taken way after the fact, after the worst of the hail had stopped, and I felt safe venturing out to the car to get the camera)

I'm so glad Ken and I went up on the roof yesterday and cleaned out the eaves... again.  The weight of hail would've brought them down, for sure.  As it is, I've gotta go up AGAIN, and fix the downspouts, which were wrenched off the side of the house in last night's wind storm.

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I wish the kids would be self-motivating.  Sheesh.  Schlumping around the house moaning "I'm hunnnnnngry..." and "I don't wannnnnnna" isn't gonna get your homework done in time to leave for Kung Fu.  And by the way, do you WANT to get your next belt?  Because the Sihing says you're up for it, but if you're going to whine and mope, I'm going to suggest they wait until your next birthday... which is nearly a year away.

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I was ahead of the laundry game on Friday, but somehow, over the weekend, I fell way behind again.  How does that happen?  And this is even taking into account the boxes of stuff that I sent off to the Cerebral Palsy folks who came to collect donations today.

Ken was up on the roof with me yesterday, cleaning the eaves, and he was wearing his favourite sweater, which, after he got it completely mudded up with eaves-compost, we realized that in the 19 years that I've known the sweater, I've never washed it once.  Ouch.  I started washing it last night.

Four sink-fulls of dirty rinse-water.  Ouchies.  Then three washes with Eucalan wool-wash.  And that was just YESTERDAY's work.  This morning, I washed it again, and rinsed it three times, then ran it through the tumble dry with no heat and 3 dry towels to take the wet away faster (Oh, the smell of wet dog was strong in the sweater).

Now I'm just thinking that I may have shrunk the thing (just at the waist-ribbing) a bit.  But the thing is so full of moth holes, I'm surprised it didn't fall apart in the sink.

I can tell the thing is machine-knit, but there's this part of me that looks at the pattern and thinks "Hmm, could I *make* this?"  Maybe for Next Christmas.

*puts it on the back burner*

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When we got Homer in September, I went to great pains to make sure that the elementary school had our most up-to-date insurance on file as soon as we got the new insurance paperwork.  I went in, and personally added the photocopies of insurance and updated license (remembering that I LOST the stupid thing in the fall) to the personnel files in the PTA boxes in the office.

Imagine my surprise when I went looking for those papers on Friday so I could make copies for the Middle School (Ken will be driving the Jazz Band to a Jazz Festival up in The City on Saturday), and the only paperwork I could find for us included an EXPIRED license, and the paperwork for The Pilot... from two thousand AND FIVE.

So this morning, as well as screwing up the nerve to call a Travel Agent about getting us to France, I also was sifting through piles and piles and PILES of "important stuff - do not toss away", looking for our Most Recent Homer Insurance, so I can not only drive on Saturday, but also drive on Friday for Kelly's class field trip.

I hate that I'm so disorganized.

Will I ever get any better at this?

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Nate is now quite agitated that he can't find a book that will tell him how many legs a sea cucumber has.Gracious, what are they teaching him in school?

Duty calls.

Fly, Birdie, Fly!

Eek.  We're going here?

Yes, it looks like we are.  Or we will be, once my travel agent gets back to me.

Christmas Day in Photos

[whispers: I've got a house full of company.  We just finished a giant roast beef dinner with 11, and now more people are arriving for the Last Game Night Of The Year.  But I'm feeling antisocial right now, so I'm hiding.  I've just given the kids glow-sticks, and they're all piled into the bathroom-without-a-window, so they can glow at each other in the dark, and I'm pretending that I'm "in charge" of them, while the adults swarm around in the other room]

Here's Christmas Day.

After the late night shenanigans of Christmas Eve, there was much sleeping-in to be done.

In fact, we might still all be sleeping if my best friend (4 time zones later than me) hadn't phoned to wish us a Merry Christmas.  She sounded all spent, having been up off and on since 3:30 in the morning with kids who wondered if "it was time yet".  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was the only one up, and the kids probably wouldn't be thinking about heading to the presents until close to 9am or 9:30.

But then Nate started getting active.  And he was ALL about the stockings.

So for an hour, it was just him and me, hanging out with the stockings.

"I am getting so excited, I can't stand it!"

(his stocking is the Charlie Brown one.  It's already starting to disgorge its contents a bit)

"They better wake up, or I'll have ALLLLLL the stockings for ME!"


But slowly the sleepers awoke.

First Kelly, and then Skip...


Eventually, Ken even shuffled downstairs, by which time the kids had stationed themselves in the front room by the tree, so they brought him his stocking and he opened his stocking while they drooled over the present overload under the tree.


See his feet?  I made him red wool socks, and stuffed them into the toe of his stocking.  They're MILES too big, but was my plan to make them too big, and then FELT THEM to fit his feet.

Because I rock.

Look!  Nate had socks in his stocking, too!  And Kelly gave him that penguin.  He's COMPLETELY penguin obsessed.


Before presents, we read the Christmas story...er... stories.

First Kelly and Nate read "B is for Bethlehem".  Nate needed a bit of help with some of the words.  OK, with a lot of the words...


Then Skip read "This is the Star".  He reads it every year.

Yikes, I'm still getting used to that haircut.

Then it was time for the presents to come out.

Skip had gotten the Littles "Puffles" for Christmas.  He wanted them to open his gifts first off, and it was hilarious, because nobody wanted to open anything else, once the puffles came out of the wrappers.



Mommy actually got surprised this year.  Here's my fabulous over-the-top cream leather with taupe suede interior jewelry box.  Oh, and I'm not giving you the finger.  I'm holding the key.  It's teeny-tiny.


The kids get to open lots of gifts.  But that's because we wrap stuff like individual socks, underwear, and candy bars.
(Everything for Skip was wrapped in Sock Monkey paper)

I got Ken the old Kung Fu series from the 70s.  Apparently, that was one of his most favouritest things to watch when he was a kid.


And then it was time for Skip to open his Big Gift.

We'd been teasing him for weeks that it was almost time for him to start using deodorant.  And how it was important for him to be in the routine of pit-sticking before those pesky armpit hairs started making an appearance.  And then, when he'd ask for hints about his "Big Gift", we'd say things like 'it has an R in it.... like deodoRRRRRant"

So, to the "Big Gift"

Hmm. 
Looks like deodorant....
Feels like deodorant....
Smells like deodorant...



WHAT????

It *IS* deodorant!


Oh, what's this?  I have to USE IT???????
Oh!  The indignity!


Wait a minute.... what's this?  A note inside the lid....?

Look in the coat closet????


Nate loved his "Big Gift", too.

As did the siblings...


And Kelly?  When it was her turn?

OoH!  For MEEEEE?



Here, Kelly, let me see it, and I'll figure out how to play it so I can teach you...


Oh good.  You got her a book, too.  I'll just read it through really quickly, and become an expert...


And while we all laughed at the bravado, we were taking back any jokes when he was playing like a pro within a half hour.

The kid is scary-fast.


After the present carnage had abated somewhat, Ken and Kelly put together an apple and blackberry pie to take to Ken's uncle's place for supper.

It was nice not having to cook AGAIN.

And look!  They bought their grandsons a drum kit!  A little bit of payback for the neighbours who had played the drums until all hours for the last 10 years...



I think I know what will be going on Nate's wish list next year.  Too bad, so sad.  Nobody's going to be making drums in 2008....



Back home after supper, Kelly put on her new nightshirt, (hooray!  It fit!) and gathered her beloved puffles to herself before heading off to bed.




And what's this?



Remind me again... WHO did we buy the flute for?