A Memory of Caring (WoT rant)

Since I finished my exam, I've busy reading my reward for studying so hard: the final book in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series, A Memory of Light. It isn't quite living up to expectations. My 'reward' is seeming more and more like a punishment...

I'm not enjoying it as much as I'd hoped or expected. I mean, I knew this book would be about The Last Battle, as the entire series has been leading up to it. I guess I just didn't realize that meant the whole book would be battle. Battle, war, military strategy, tactics, fighting, dying... I'm 700 pages in. I don't care anymore. The battle is taking forever. I just don't care. I'm not one to skip ahead, but it's seriously dragging for me. I'm sure it's exciting enough if you're into that sort of thing, but I'm so not. Twenty pages of battle, okay. Seven hundred and it's still going? Come on. I'm a fantasy reader, not a general. This is not what I signed up for. I read 13 enormous books leading up to what should be the big payoff. Instead I get an epic battle. So epic I might never finish it. Let someone win already and tell me how it all wraps up! After 13 books and several years, the arc of this story needs a big resolution... a climax can't last 700 pages. Just get it over with already. The tension is dying, not building here!

Rejoining the world

I was studying for basically all of January for an exam that I finally wrote on Tuesday evening. It was my first written exam in a LOT of years, and it was my first attempt at writing a university exam in Dutch. Don't get me wrong; it wasn't an exam of Dutch, it was an environmental science exam, in Dutch. Hopefully I managed to get my thoughts across well enough to pass the course. Because I did really enjoy the course, so I'd like to take more, and the introductory course I took is kind of a prerequisite for everything else. We'll see. Surely the professor can tell that I'm not a native speaker and take that into account when my answers are maybe not quite as clearly expressed as he would like. I hope.

Anyway. I sort of withdrew from the world last month, and I'm just now slowly returning, picking up my non-study activities one by one. I went to another club for archery on Wednesday - the first in the regional series of friendly competitions - it'll move all over the area for the next several weeks. It gave me time to try out my car, though! Yay! My navigation system, too, which worked like a charm. It was great to not have to stand out in the cold waiting for public transport. Actually, without a car I wouldn't even take part in this competition - it's just too hard to get to most of these places otherwise. For archery, not having a car really limited me. It's not the main reason I bought a car, but it will certainly benefit from it!

I haven't started running again yet. I stopped when we got that dumping of snow mid-January and, well, let's face it, that only melted this week, so I've only REALLY missed a week of running that I should be sorry about. The other weeks don't count, in my book. It would not have been safe. Trust me. I fell getting off my bike - because my feet slid as I hopped off and down I went. I had to keep supporting the bike, too, because The Little Ninja was on the kid seat at the front and I didn't want to land underneath both him and the bike the bike to fall over with him on it. So I got a nice bruise on my cheek from where I essentially supported the bike with my face. I wasn't going to try running in that.

But I'm on the right path: back into my normal life! Work, archery, running, writing, socializing... and thinking about studying something new.

Definitely a Weather God

There are a lot of signs pointing to me being a weather god. But definitely not in the good way. As I believe I mentioned before, I seem to attract rain. As temperatures seem completely out of my control, I suppose I should say precipitation. And my 'powers' kick in right when I want such precipitation least. And conspire to ruin my life. Or at least my plans. Like the snowstorm that made me cancel my appointment to pick up my new car. The one that I've been waiting months for, and secretly dreaming of for years. So I rescheduled. And what showed up in the forecast for the new date? Another snowstorm. Luck arranged that my dealer eventually dropped off the car to me at my house. (Yay! Snow or no snow, I wasn't looking forward to bussing over to the dealership.)

It's now been almost two weeks and I still haven't driven my new car. First I didn't have a car seat, so I was limited by The Little Ninja, but that arrived a week ago. No more excuses, right? We planned a maiden voyage to Oma's house for Saturday past. And wouldn't you freaking know it? Another cursed snowstorm! Seriously!

I know some of you (likely Canadians and Americans living in the northern states) might be wondering what all the fuss is. A little snow (and yes, trust me, it's not really that much snow) and I refuse to drive? What kind of Canadian am I, right? But clearly, you've never been here when it's snowed. There are maybe a couple of snowplows in the country, which operate (as far as I can tell) during business hours, only clearing the highways. There are more salt trucks, which do salt the main roads, but obviously these are insufficient to combat a storm of my making. I really wanted to pick up my car = 25 cm of snow. Continuing cold means that, two weeks later, the local roads are still covered with hard-packed, slippery snow. That I obviously don't want to risk driving on with my shiny, brand-spanking new Clio.

Is it just when I make plans? The more I focus on a particular day, the more precipitation we must get? Must I stop making plans? Or stop caring about the plans?

On the plus side, now that it's warming up, at least I won't have to stand in the rain waiting for the bus or the tram, or biking. Maybe this is why the weather fought me so hard on the car pick-up. The car is my ultimate win! As long as it doesn't freeze, the car will defeat my weather powers! Mwahahaha...

Twinkle, twinkle, there's a ghost in the nursery

There's a ghost in the nursery. I think it lives in the musical Tigger that lives on the shelf in The Little Ninja's bedroom. Because nobody touches that thing and still at random moments during the day and night, it plays "Twinkle, twinkle, little star". Like just a minute ago. I am the only one in the house and I am sitting in the next room. I definitely did not press on the tigger. Or like last night when I was studying and everyone else was sleeping. No one is touching the thing, yet it sings all by itself. It's creepy, I tell you.

I think the next step in my investigation (or ghost-busting, if you will) is to remove the batteries and see if it still sings. Although to be honest I think I would totally freak out if it did, so maybe it's safer to just leave the batteries in and call it a fluke. What do you think?

My kid hates winter... can I trade him in?

The Little Ninja doesn't like the snow. Seriously. MY kid. Was he switched at birth? While all I read lately are messages from mommy friends enthusiastically reporting how much their kid likes the snow, complete with photos of said kid gleefully being pulled along on a sled, or rolling in the snow, or even skating, I jealously report that I can't say that about the Little Ninja. HE HATES WINTER. 

We've gone out in the snow. We dress up warm. He whines. He cries. He screams. He refuses to get on the sled, flailing about like I'm trying to drop him into hot oil or something. He refuses to try skating, kicking out at me to get the blades off his boots, almost maiming me in the process (Little Ninja remains an apt nickname). 

Now my question is this: is this a phase? Will he grow out of it? Will he like winter next year? Is he just showing his stubborn almost-two-year-old defiance of everything, particularly things that I obviously seem to want? Is that all this is? Or is there something fundamentally different about him, something he may have gotten from his father... Does he really hate winter? Will he always? Am I doomed to always ski and sled and skate alone?

Skating, Snow, Canada: a recap

Well. Sarnia turned out to be no problem at all because we basically didn't leave the house the whole time we were there. We arrived at my mom's at about 5pm on Christmas Eve. My brother pulled up behind me just minutes later, and with him came nightfall and snow. We were both RIGHT on time, in my view, especially as I'd never been to the house before and really didn't want to have to look for it in the dark. It snowed all that night. We had a white Christmas. YAY! It continued to snow all Christmas day. It stopped for a brief window of time on Boxing Day, which my brother wisely used to make his escape back to Toronto, before picking up again. So we did what anyone should do in such situations: we stayed inside for the most part, making good use of the Netflix streaming, and braving the elements only for such critical tasks as shovelling a path in the back yard for the dog and taking a walk down to the lake or around the block to see the Christmas lights. At some point the driveway also got cleared and snowmen were attempted. (Failed, sadly. The snow wasn't consistently of the good packing variety; I think it accumulated in layers that made it impossible to roll a snowman body but still enabled small amounts to be formed into snowballs.)

We made our own escape on Friday, the 28th. Luckily the snow had stopped by then and the roads were clear. The next storm was set to hit on the 29th. And it did. We had another get-together planned for that day at noon and woke up to far more snow than had been forecast. Snow that continued to fall, heavily, all morning. I'm not used to driving in the snow anymore. It was really stressful. Just at the on-ramp to the highway I saw a car off in the ditch and his skidmarks leading there. I almost turned around partway when the snow-covered highway intimidated me. The cars by the concrete dividers that were completely spun around to face into traffic certainly didn't help my confidence. But I didn't turn back. I trudged on and we made it to the restaurant right on time. By the time our lunch was finished and we headed back, the snow had slowed and the roads had been cleared, for the most part. Thankfully. I wasn't looking forward to driving it a second time.

Back in the GTA, we made good use of the fallen snow and took The Little Ninja tobogganing. My dad's ancient giant toboggan, though huge on memories, was nowhere near as good at getting you down the hill and halfway across the field as the new plastic ones we borrowed from a neighbour. The plastic ones had a definite weight advantage - as in, you could get the damned things up the hill while also carrying a toddler who couldn't walk in the deep snow because his legs are too short and he'd just fall over. Which was hilarious for us, but not so much for him. Still. Snow fun? Check.

New Year's Eve, on the other hand, sucked. In fact, it was so bad, it inspired a resolution: I won't be pressured into anything this year. Like staying up until midnight just because it's New Year's Eve. The new year will come whether I watch the shitty shows from New York and Niagara (I couldn't even make myself flip to the Toronto one it was so horrible) or am fast asleep in my bed.

We tried to go skating on New Year's Day. We checked the opening hours, got all dressed up for the cold, propped The Little Ninja into a borrowed wagon and trudged over to the local outdoor skating rink. It was closed. For New Year's Day. Booo. We drove over the next day. I got to try out my new blades and, much as predicted, The Little Ninja stood on the ice for about 4 seconds before demanding that the skates be removed. It was a good start, though, right?

That was about it, really. We saw some people, didn't get to see some people. Went shopping and got some stuff (like the mini eggs I'm stuffing my face with while I write this) and everything fit into our bags, which is always a plus. I guess this trip was pretty successful, all in all. Yay!

Canada hates me

Canada hates me. After the fiasco two years ago, I should have had some idea.

On that fateful trip, at 8 months pregnant and after an extremely long, stressful travel day full of cancelled flights, rebooked flights, slippery roads, reduced trains, defective airplanes, repeated de-icing and a 6 hour delay, I was sent to the Immigration office upon arrival in Canada at 3 in the morning, because I was travelling on my British passport, not on my (long-expired) Canadian one. Apparently (all evidence online to the contrary,) you DO in fact need to enter Canada on your Canadian passport if you are Canadian. They gave me a warning. They put the warning on my file. Sufficiently chastened, I got a Canadian passport a few months later. I thought the troubles were over. 

But no! Christmas 2012, all ready to head out to meet my Dad in arrivals, Santa hat jauntily perched on The Little Ninja's head, we get redirected into the Customs line. For a baggage check. FML. Seriously. Canada hates me.

Although, it also doesn't. The customs guy who checked our stuff COULD have given us an $800 fine. Luckily, he just gave us a warning. Apparently, even if the food you have with you is totally allowed (like chocolate, which no self-respecting country would ever deny you), you STILL have to declare it on your entry form. Even if you're sure. Just declare it. Save yourself $800. Or a warning. :)