Sisters

Not This Time, Folks

And .... the deal fell through.  There's still hope that they may be able to make it work, but we're not holding our breaths.  Humph.  So I guess it's back to showings and cleaning and organizing and all that fun stuff. 

Selling The House, part Two

We got an offer!  It was good!  We accepted it!  Now we have to go through all those tests (water, inspector, etc)!  No, wait, that last sentence shouldn't have an exclamation point.

If all goes well, it'll be a done deal by early February. 

Now the house shopping begins!

Happy Birthday, Graedon!

Happy Birthday to my happy go-lucky, snuggly, ham-it-up, truck loving, dinosaur rawring, curious little man!

Worms, Pub-Style

My lovely husband brought me out on the town last weekend.  We headed to the local pub for some nachos.  If you've been to this particular pub, you'll know the ambiance is seriously lacking.  They have those BIG screen TVs hooked up on every wall, and you can't help but stare at the screen rather than at your date.  Not romantic.  Worse yet, they had decided to leave it on the Discovery Channel where a fascinating documentary on moles was playing.  I kid you not, this is the tame version of what was playing:

Actually, it was on a big screen, up close and personal (the mole's head was filling the screen) and that night-crawler was putting up a fight.  It was all slurp, slurp, wiggle, thrash, gnash, gulp. 

I'm so glad I didn't order the spaghetti.

We're Selling Our House

Well, it had to happen sometime.  7 years, 1 business, and 4 babies later, we've outgrown the house.  When we're all in the house, the walls bulge out like in cartoons.  The neighbours look at us crooked when we exit the front door...it's like one of those circus cars where the clowns just keep coming and coming and coming. 

We've had 5 showings, with another on Wednesday night.  I'm impressed with how respectful everyone has been.  There have been no dirty boots on the hardwood floors, my underwear drawer hasn't been rifled through, no smudges on the windows...maybe it's the signs I put up everywhere that say, "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!!!"

I jest!  I jest! 

No, I've been good.  No signs, no lipstick messages on the bathroom mirrors, and only a couple breakdowns.  All in all, I'm just fine.

Take a look at our place while it still is our place:  http://www.century21allseasonsrealty.ca/linda365.html

In Praise of the Nature Walk

It's a January cold day.  The Christmas lights and decorations are packed away, and the fields and woods behind our house are a contrast of white and brown.  The world is stark.

We bundle up.  The baby is snuggled against my chest, tied firmly in place with the pashmina Richard gave me for Christmas.  I've zippered his vest over the both of us, backward, to fill the gap my own coat couldn't breach. 

Graedy runs ahead, yelling, "Race you!  Race you to the rabbits!"  Our new favourite outside activity is identifying animal tracks.  Today we found rabbit, fox, mouse, weasel and what might have been a very very big moose. 

We meet our neighbour, carrying old carrots from her cellar that didn't make it through the winter.  She dumps them behind the barn and we discuss gardens and planting asparagus and garlic.  She goes back to her house, and we keep going up the hill.  At the turn off, straight to the field, right to the cabin, we choose right.  We stop at everything and nothing - little tunnels in the snow.  Mice?  Rabbit tracks, followed closely by fox tracks.  We peek into the camps windows, no one has been for weeks. 

Maddie starts to follow what she is sure is a very cute fox trail.  She asks if fox eat people.  No, probably not.  Wolves, maybe.  She decides not to follow the cute fox after all. 

Melt down at the end of the trail...I won't let Maddie dig up a baby fir tree to bring home as a pet.  We talk about what trees want from their lives, what they dream of, their biggest aspirations.  I say that being a Christmas tree is a big thing for a fir, or maybe being made into a house.  I say that if I were a tree, I'd want to be made into a baby cradle.  I'd always be remembered fondly and I'd hold babies every day.  Maddie says she'd want to be dug up and brought home as a pet.  Nice try.  We settle on raiding our Christmas ornaments and bringing them back the next day to decorate her tree.

Home again, home again, cheeks rosy, baby sleeping, everyone hungry.  The stew is simmering.  The smells of the cranberry, orange, nutmeg and cinnamon make my tummy ache.  Richard calls.  Just because.

It's a good day.