Feeling Disconnected

The Internet was down all weekend and I noticed it.

Saturday morning, I turned on the computer to do some banking and to check out Amazon.ca. And I couldn’t get onto the Internet. ‘Not connected’, the computer told me despite the server being at the best level I have ever seen it yet.

I restarted the computer. I double checked to make sure the Internet was working. I made sure the router was working. I reinstalled the router. I pulled this cable and yanked on that cord. I performed the Windows diagnostic on the computer. I followed its directions. I called my Dad. Finally, I begged my husband to hardwire the Internet into my computer.

By Sunday this was done.

In the meantime, I had to go to the mall and hope for the best in shopping bargains and do my banking in my head.

For someone who has trouble with simple math and who requires a visual reminder of how broke she is, it was a challenge.

I haven’t yet checked if we still have a house and whether I blew the gas money for the week.

I do know that while the Internet was down, I was able to do the laundry and clean the bathroom. Not that the extra time gained makes me want to be unplugged for any length of time again.

Another Christmas Read

Another Christmas book I read each year is Richard Paul Evan’s The Christmas Box.

I bought this book years ago at a sale and the quick read is a must each time this festive season rolls around.

I am always confused if this is a true story. It reads like it is, complete with a note of where you can drop flowers off in Salt Lake City, however, the front of the book says that is a work of pure fiction.

Regardless of the authenticity of the book, the story is about a man, his wife and their daughter who rent space from an older woman who, despite her tragic story, understands the true meaning of Christmas.

It’s a beautifully written book and one that makes me cry each year.

There are actually two other books that were written after this one, which tells the back story of MaryAnne Parker and her family. They are excellent books but I don’t need to read about that much heartache at Christmastime, or any time really.

Winner, Blog of the Year Award

Thank you, to Joanne Abrahams of Coconut Palm Designs (http://coconutpalmdesigns.blogspot.com/) who nominated me for the Blog of the Year Award.



According to the rules of the contest, you must post the news on your blog, along with the name of the person who honoured you with the award and a link to her blog.

Remember to contact the bloggers you’ve awarded to let them know they have been chosen.

I nominate LF Jarron (http://photos-lfjarron.blogspot.com/) and Patrick LaMontagne (http://patricklamontagne.blogspot.com) for the Blog of the Year Award.

I encourage you to visit LF Jarron's and Patrick LaMontagne's blogs and check out their amazing work.

Thank you again.

Lisa Day

They Now Say ...

They now say teething and fevers do not go hand-in-hand.

They now say that you shouldn’t give egg yolks to a baby until he is at least a year old.

They now say a baby should sleep on his back and he should not be covered in blankets.

Every time the words “they say” are uttered out of my mouth, a little voice, which sounds suspiciously like my Dad, says “Who are they?”

Who are they indeed. “They” are studies, doctors and anyone else who has written an article and published it in a magazine.

And why are today’s “they” are right while yesterday’s “they” are wrong. Not sure, but they said so.

What a Year

Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of our son’s health scare.

We went to Sick Kids today to be fitted for another holter - a heart monitor he wears for 24 hours but I am not concerned it will show anything wrong.
He is a heart-healthy boy.

What a difference a year makes. From sickly white and refusing to nurse at this time last year, to having a snack of sausage rolls and waiting impatiently for dinner today, you would never know he almost didn’t make it.

Ironically, though, he is sick today. He has a cold and a touch of a fever.

But I can take that over heart issues any day.

It’s Christmas book time

There are several Christmas traditions I enjoy: baking cookies with my mom, sister-in-law, niece and now son; getting and decorating the Christmas tree the first weekend in December, pulling out the Christmas cookbook; and reading a couple of Christmas stories. One book I will discuss later.

But let’s first talk about A Christmas Miracle.

This collection of four short stories is considered a historical romance. I love historical books. I am usually not a fan of the romance, but these stories are more than just a nice love story and great sex.

Each of the main characters in the stories by Virginia Henley, Katherine Kingsley, Rebecca Paisley and Stephanie Mittman feature a strong woman who, while often from a lower class, teach the man in her world what is really important about life and the true meaning of Christmas.

Each story in the book is set in the past, in a time in history that I love (think Black Creek Pioneer Village time, which is likely why the Steeles Avenue historical site is one of my favourite places to go).

While I am not naive enough to think those times weren’t tough, particularly for someone who was poor, it also seems like it was a romantic, gentle time.

You had to work hard but the pleasures were simple - a horse-driven sleigh ride, skating on the pond, decorations and gifts that were made by hand and a celebration of family.

Talented Friends

A special thank you to my good friend Joanne Abrahams, who created my avatar, the little picture that goes along with my blog.

Jo and I met her first year at Humber College in Etobicoke, and while I can’t say we were instant friends (she gave me a really dirty look when I invited her for lunch. I later found out her mom just left so I am glad I cut her some slack. But apparently I told my lunchmate ‘Well! Isn’t SHE friendly,’ so I guess I should say I am thankful she gave me a second chance after being so rude) but we were fast friends.

We spent most of our spare time in college debating religion to wee hours of the morning, playing cards, hanging out and chatting. We cheered each other, cried with each other and have celebrated life’s ups and downs. Our friendship survived her move back to Jamaica, her return and her final move to Belize, where she found happiness in her little boy, M, and her melange of pets including her newest addition, Max.

In Belize, Jo has cut herself a niche in the tourist world and in the Internet one.

Her full-time job, outside raising her almost two-year-old solo, is selling sunglasses to the tourists. But her other job combines her skill as a graphic designer with her love of power tools - designing welcome, garden and name signs.

She also creates wonderful avatars and hand-painted cards.

And while I have one of her welcome signs hanging on my door, one of my favourites pieces of Jo’s is an ad campaign she created while in college.

The picture was of a Cadbury Crunchie bar. She had rolled back the chocolate to reveal the sponge toffee inside. Crunchie is probably my least favourite chocolate bar but as soon as I saw Jo’s rendition, I immediately wanted to consume a Crunchie bar. And every time I think of it now, the same thing happens.

Check out Jo’s blog at http://coconutpalmdesigns.blogspot.com

Also check her out at http://www.bonanzle.com/booths/CoconutPalmDesigns. And follow her on Twitter: http://twitter.com/CoconutPalmDsgn

So Begins The Season

I followed Sum41Mum down the 404 this morning. She looked old enough to have a 24-year-old son. Don’t you wish you could flag people down and ask them questions? Questions such as are you really Sum 41's Mum?

This weekend was the start of the Christmas season for me. While I have been listening to Christmas tunes on my iPod for more than a week now, Saturday my son and I were at my parents’ house with my sister-in-law and niece partaking in our annual baking day.

I ate more cookies than I decorated and they were delicious.

I am quite excited for Christmas this year. I am in the mood to shop, wrap and watch Christmas movies, although I find the later hard now that my little guy is here. Perhaps I will take some time off in the evening to simply enjoy movies like Disney’s Beauty and The Beast Christmas, Will Ferrell’s Elf, the new version of Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life and other favourites.

Licence Plates and Diapers?

On my way home from work today, I saw a vehicle with this licence plate: 2WDS4U.
I thought it was quite clever.

I have decided I like the smell of disposable diapers. They smell, obviously, like baby or I guess baby smells like them. When we were waiting for our little guy to make his appearance, I had the top drawer of his change table filled with everything I might need - lotion, shampoo, body wash, a package of newborn disposable diapers and wipes. I loved opening that drawer and letting that smell waft through the room. Baby. It can only be described as baby.

Leave The Car At Home

I heard on the news today that a government think-tank has suggested road tolls to help with the GTA’s gridlock problem. The news report suggested gridlock is responsible for loss productivity and increased food prices, among other things.

I agree that gridlock is a problem, and one that is only getting worse.

However, rather than taxing motorists, with the idea that an extra tax on roads and parking will get them to leave their cars at home, how about providing tax relief to businesses that allow their employees to work from home or have flexible hours?

Or perhaps the government can create a provincewide transit system that makes it more convenient to take a bus, train or subway rather than a car.

Appreciation

Week 1 at the office is almost over. And I can't tell you how happy I am. Forty hours away from my son is a long time, particularly since I don't think I had been away from him 40 hours in his life up this point.

Friends and family will know that I had proposed working from home two days a week and having flex hours the other three days. Those same people will also know how disappointed, although not surprised, I was when I was turned down.

However, I have been remiss in the fact that I haven't publicly said thank you to my boss who has allowed me to have different flex hours. I thanked him personally this week but I think the world needs to know that I appreciate his generosity. I have been bitter since the news.

So thank you to AT who has allowed me to come to the office at 7:30 and work through my lunch three days a week so I can leave at 2:30 and be home by 3:30. This gives me three hours a day to spend with me son. Not great, but better than a hour.

Getting To Know Strangers

I love personalized license plates.

I should state here that I do not want to one for Christmas. However, I do like the fact that other people seem willing to spend more than $200 on a personal message for their car.

While I see no point in having one’s name on one’s license plate, I do like the plates that are a puzzle. I like following these people until I have figured out what they are trying to say. I am always impressed by people’s cleverness.

My favourite aspect of personalized license plates is feeling of familiarity you get.

For example, on the way down Hwy. 404 this morning, I saw Baby Dol. I haven’t seen Baby Dol since before my maternity leave and as I was passing her, I smiled and said good morning.

Also prior to my maternity leave, I would follow IM Woodsy down Warden Avenue. We obviously had to be at work at the same time and it always pleased me to see him each day. He was like my morning routine. So you can imagine how excited I was when I ended up following IM Woodsy home. We obviously left work at the same time as well. And we obviously both rushed out of the city so we could spend time in the country.

And then there is 8 Legs.

I am not sure what 8 Legs does, but I have also followed him north on the 404. Then, while on maternity leave, I discovered 8 Legs is a neighbour. What a small world.

I also have a neighbour who is a Diamond.

Now Diamond, and other people who have personal license plates, should be a little more cautious. I know who Diamond is. I know his vehicle. I know where he lives. So when you pass me at high speeds or tailgate me, it makes me want to knock on your door and tell you to smarten up. You don’t treat your neighbours that way.

What The?

I saw the most ridiculous thing on my way down Hwy. 404 this morning.

It was an old Dodge Caravan with an after-market fin. Yes, a man who was old enough to know better put a fin on a minivan.

What was he thinking?

Studies Say ...

Studies say that children who go to daycare are more social and do better in school.

Quite frankly, I don’t care what the studies say.

And isn’t it insulting to the generation of children who were raised by their mothers? Were we social-inept, stupid children? I don’t think so.

So perhaps the study isn’t telling us all that we need to know or maybe it’s telling us this so we don’t feel bad about plunking our children in daycare for 10 hours a day while we get “me” time.

Let the Sadness Begin

Tomorrow I begin to pay someone to have the privilege of looking after my son.

Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t someone pay me to give up the privilege of raising my son?