Feels like it's back to square one

The first winter LP went to daycare, I think he had 8 ear infections, and was on antibiotics non-stop. It was such a painful time, seeing your baby sick all the time but also all the day-to-day scrambling that went with it. Taking so many antibiotics can’t be right for such a young child, but what were we supposed to do? Finally, we were referred to a specialist who told us his ear canal was nearly horizontal, making it impossible for fluid to come out (this is fairly common in young children due to their small features, but in his case it was especially pronounced). He scheduled him for emergency ear tube surgery, which we went through when he was 16 months old. I dreaded it so much, and it was a really tough day, but then when it was over wow, what a difference. Except for a few little colds here and there, he was basically never sick again, and we never had to wrestle him so he’d swallow his disgusting banana-flavored chalk-like medicine.

Last year, he lost one tube, which was expected, since their usual lifespan is between one and two years (the other one is still in place and doing its job beautifully). It was towards the end of the winter/virus season, and we got lucky: it didn’t really have much of an impact.

But at his latest appointment the doctor told us his inner ear is now filled with infected liquid again, just like in pre-tubes days. We thought that by now he would have grown up enough for this not to happen again, but no such luck. So he asked us to spend one month of intensive nose-blowing and saline solution washing, to see if it gets any better. If not, you’ve guessed it, it's back to surgery.

I know it would be fine, but I’m still really not looking forward to it. It was awful back then, but now that he understands what’s going on it can only be worse: we’ll have to prepare him, explain things to him, and of course I know that this is ultimately beneficial but will also probably make him anxious and stressed. Brings me back to how much I feel blessed that, well, that’s the worst thing we have to face. Because how difficult and draining it must be to face a serious illness… Kudos to these parents.

At least this provides a little bit of solace in that lately, LP had returned to one of these phases where his clumsiness goes to extremes, his balance seems completely off, and he just keeps falling weirdly and hurting himself. Even though it’s clear that he’ll probably never be super physical, we thought we had put this problem behind us (I posted about this several times in the last two years, we saw different doctors, an orthopedist, etc.), his daycare teacher talked to us about it again recently, telling us that even though his fine motor skills are like those of a 4 year old, lately his gross motor skills were more like those of an 18-month old, which is like, ouch. So we started worrying about the fact that it seemed to recur by episodes at random, and wondered what the next step was, painfully beginning some research on neurological disorders affecting balance, etc.

Although we know that balance is governed by your ears, and -even though all doctors shrugged it off- we always kind of figured that all his infections could have somehow led to his issues, we had never added the two. But of course, the doctor told us, this new phase is due to the fact that his ear is full of fluid, causing pressure and unbalance on one side only and hence some disorientation… Poor little guy. He's had three (minor) face injuries in the last month alone, one requiring stitches. We're a little discouraged... And wonder when we'll finally see the end of this.

Why do people do that?

Of course people can’t excel at everything. We all have our strengths and natural affinities; sometimes you’re not really good at something because it’s just not in you (like maths and science seem to be for me), and sometimes, because you don’t really care and find no point in getting better.

That being said, one of the biggest pet peeves of mine is people who overtly brag and take total pride in the fact that they’re reeeeally bad at or ignorant about something. It always makes me feel weird and like they’re completely missing the point. It's not that I strive for absolute robotic perfection... And while it’s OK to have our own little weaknesses, the general idea is that there’s always room for improvement in our lives, and mastering new skills/learning new things is a good and positive thing, right? Not that you should in any way be ashamed or put down about what you’re less than great at, but I don’t think you should be proud of it, either…

Three areas where this especially bugs me:

Computer literacy: These are getting rarer by the minute, but you still find them from time to time, people who are so happy to tell you they don’t own a computer, have never used the Internet or even sent email, etc. I’m not talking about the elderly here, but middle-aged people, sometimes even media personalities, who appear to have caught some sort of a technophobe snobbery. Maybe this could have been refreshing 15 years ago, but how could you ever still be proud of this fact? Seriously, how could you keep up with the world now otherwise? I’m not saying everyone should be super savvy and proficient, and I’m the first to admit that there is such a thing about being too much of a slave to technology, but come on. SO MUCH of our lives revolves around it now, can you imagine what you would be missing without it? How can you be proud of being grossly outdated and ignorant? Whenever I hear people like that, I always think, geez, and the joke is on whom?

Fitness and nutrition: I try to eat well and be active, although I am in no way holier-than-thou and have my occasional cravings and binges (nearly 1,500 unhealthy calories in a single greasy Chinese meal last week, yuck). I never asked anyone to be the same; some people never received any education about that and inherited bad patterns, some never asked themselves these questions, some know but truly don’t care and choose not to bother, and on top of that our whole society model is one of sedentariness and overeating bad, processed food. So yeah, it is really much easier and more convenient *not* to do that, whatever your reasons. But if I have a salad for lunch, forgo dessert, or reply to a question by saying that we don’t really eat red/processed meat or refined grains, etc., I am often teased, or nearly ridiculed. There’s a certain snark and the person proceeds to go on and on about how good it is to eat whatever they want and be lazy and that at least, they will die happy. Show some good faith here… Eat hot dogs and industrial individually wrapped cakes all you want, I don’t care! I never said I was better than you, I never said I had all the answers… But still, how can you feel so self-gratified about something that goes so far against any common sense?

Homeliness: Recently, a woman whose blog I sometimes read bragged, yes, bragged, about the fact that her family had celebrated Thanksgiving at Applebee’s, for a second year in a row. Why? Because she can’t cook to save her life, why are you asking? She seemed really offended that people were surprised about this, twisting it into a bizarre and far-fetched feminist argument (like, why do people assume I can cook because I’m a woman? Next thing is that they’ll assume I can also do needlepoint?)

I was kind of baffled. I don’t care that she’s not a good cook, after all that's the case for a lot of people. But did she really understand the point of Thanksgiving, at all? The specialness of the food, setting, and occasion? I’m sure plenty of people hate to cook the whole roast turkey works, but they surely have come up with other workarounds/tricks: suck it up and do it anyway for their loved ones, have someone else cook, make something simpler, order in, organize a potluck, etc. And here’s what I think these people don’t do on the one night a year where you’re supposed to celebrate your family bond with a memorable feast: go to a completely lackluster and ordinary restaurant to have a hurried meal of generic burgers and fries. You may say I’m totally judging her, and I guess you’re sort of right; mostly, I just felt a little sorry for her family.

But I didn’t mind the Applebee’s as much as the fact that she was proud of it. It’s not because you’re a woman that people assume you can cook: rather it’s because you’re an adult, and a person who takes care of a family… Needlepoint and cooking cannot at all be compared in this case: cooking is a basic life skill. To survive, you have to eat, and presumably (unless you’re very rich or stay with your folks all your life), you will have to cook, at least to some extend. You don’t ever have to become great at it if it’s not your thing; but as you grow older, people will reasonably assume that you have graduated from frozen pizza pockets and cup ramen noodles to simple, but decent meals.

Look at what popped up on my supermarket shelves...

I’ve been looking for natural make-up products for a while… And recently found these at Loblaws.


The brand name is Organic Wear from Physicians Formula. They’re available in Canada and the US, although I could see on the website that they have a line of makeup removers that is not sold here (something to look for during our next visit to the Plattsburgh, NY Target!)

I bought the foundation, pressed powder, concealer and mascara. I wasn’t sure they would work well, but they do! I’m super pleased and it doesn’t feel like a compromise or sacrifice at all. Great products!

The prices are reasonable: $22 for both the foundation and powder –that’s pretty much what I used to pay at Clinique, $10 for the concealer and $16 for the mascara –pretty standard drugstore brand prices… They have plenty of shades, plus bronzers, blushes, tinted moisturizers, eye shadows, eye pencils, and lip glosses.

All the ingredients are natural, although not necessarily all organic (each product packaging specifies the percentage: for instance, it’s 72.5% for the concealer). They claim that their cruelty-free offer is free of chemicals, parabens, genetically modified ingredients, as well as synthetic preservatives, colors, and perfumes. They even thought about packaging: the powder is encased in recycled/recyclable paper, and the brush is made with goat hair.

The best feeling in the world

We're walking downtown side by side, on a nice day for January... By some bizarre twist of fate, as a good part of Western Europe and most of the US are experiencing unheard of freezing temperatures, we are having a warm, I would even say comfortable winter so far, and on that day it's even above the freezing point.

M points to the left, saying: "We had lunch there, once, you know?" He's smiling, knowingly. And it doesn't come back to me instantly, but then I remember, too. It was more than five years ago, after a meeting with clients. We weren't a couple then, just friendly co-workers who had been assigned on the same project, although at that point I had finally realized he was the right one for me and certainly had hopeful feelings.

"You had niçoise salad, and I blood sausage." And it was true. That long lunch was wonderful. We talked open-heartedly, flirted a lot, and it felt so good and clear and natural. I remember coming back to the office with a huge smile on my face, basking in that happy feeling all afternoon long.

I wouldn't have recognized the place, but he remembered everything. In hindsight, that lunch was probably the first day of the new, (mostly) happy, serene, positive, era I'm still in, after some of the most difficult years of my life. And everything in that era revolves around M.

And my glance goes from the restaurant to him, my guy, then to the stroller he's pushing, with in it, a nearly 3 year-old boy, chatting excitingly, sometimes a handful but so gorgeous and lively and adorable.

Look at what we've done in five years, I tell myself... Look at where we are. Still going strong, M still so loving and considerate and with a knack for little non-cheesy romantic gestures like that. Many trips and exciting experiences. A house and yard half redone to our taste. Of course, a child that changed our lives and whom we love more than anything else. And as of 8 months, shiny bands on our fingers.

I am so blessed.

We so picked the right present...

LP loves the play kitchen we got him for Christmas, and his interest for cooking is only growing, which couldn’t make me happier. He plays with it at least a little everyday, pretending to whip up such supremely delicious dishes as cranberry omelet (mysteriously, cranberries appear to be the signature ingredient of his growing repertoire), duck roast, pickle pesto (I’m not making this up), pear tarts, cookies and muffins of all sorts, “genial” pasta, etc.

The other day, I gave him baby carrots as a snack, but the next thing I know, he decided that he should cook them, instead. (Yes, he has a black eye, after jumping on the couch and, inevitably, falling down straight on the edge of the coffee table. He’s turning into a very unfortunate and dangerous combination of extreme clumsiness and true daredevil spirit. Seriously, what are we supposed to do? Cushion him in pillows all the time? A few days later he also scratched his back in similar conditions. We are starting to worry about people thinking we’re mistreating him).



{I ask him what he’s doing, and he says: “Carrots, with cauliflower, cranberries, and… apples!” After tossing the carrots a little, he then tells me that now he’ll add the apples, a complicated maneuver that somehow involved switching pans. Once I stopped filming, he went to fetch one and added it to the pan, then finished the dish off with some pretend cheese. Yum (not).}

In a somewhat related matter, here he is making cookies recently, and although of course I was there to supervise and handle stuff he shouldn’t do, I swear he basically did it on his own!





By the way, over the Holidays my grandmother pointed out to me that her father spent his whole life working as a cook, and was apparently a very good, renowned one. According to the family legend, he never let his wife near the kitchen, except to make tea and for some occasional baking. They had 8 kids, and that must have been pretty unusual at the time… I never knew him, but I was 6 when she died, so I remember her scrumptious frosted soft vanilla cookies really well. A few years ago I had my very own madeleine Proustian moment after I found ones at a bakery in my hometown that tasted *exactly* the same.

Hopefully closing a long-due health chapter...

So you might remember that last year I went though several tests and specialists referrals for an annoying (but benign) cyst on my left wrist. The last doctor I saw over the summer, who was totally unkind and unhelpful, tried to drain it with a huge syringe but nothing came out. So he hastily concluded that it was probably bone tissue and basically nothing could be done. Surgery, perhaps, he added, but he wouldn’t recommend it, because it would be a big thing, with several weeks of recuperation, and I could lose some sensibility in my hand. I was scared, so I did nothing.

But it continued bugging me. Over the Holidays it became bigger, was especially painful and my whole hand started to feel numb. I was fed up, and decided to go get a second opinion. My left hand is my dominant one (I’m hopeless with my right one), and I basically earn a living working on a computer all day, so I began being afraid that doing nothing could ultimately be worse than the slight inconvenience of maybe having it removed. So under the recommendation of a friend I called a plastic surgery clinic close to home, and surprise, they gave me an appointment a few days later.

So I headed there for my consult, and I could see right away that finding the right doctor makes all the difference. He didn’t even look at my X-rays and MRI scan… Just examined my hand and said, it’s not bone tissue. It’s just a cyst, a capsule full of liquid, sitting above your bone, right between two of your tendons. I can take it out no problem. But the other doctor said he couldn’t reach or drain it?, I asked, incredulous. That’s in no way an indication that I can’t fix your hand, he assured, and I felt a great deal of relief and trust surge inside of me. Operating is much better than draining it, he said, because at least after that you know it won’t come back.

And right when I was about to ask, so, when can we schedule it, he said, go to the other room, change into this hospital gown, the OR nurse will come get you. Er, like, now??? I was a little shocked and a little giddy, simultaneously thinking wow I can’t believe that this will finally be taken care of and wow, I didn’t even have time to be scared. I never had surgery, never even went to the hospital except to give birth, and that was a completely unmedicalized and low-key experience.

So I did as I was told, entering the OR, lying on the table, extending my hand. I was anxious, trying to control myself. The nurse explained everything to me. Then the doctor came, and I burst out in nervous laughter: he reminded me so much of Christian Troy, the plastic surgeon in Nip/Tuck, it was hilarious. He was about my age, very good-looking and engaging, commenting on my “nice Coach handbag” (yes, the guy knew the brand) and “beautiful rings” (which I needed to take off, and could only put back on yesterday). Exactly like Dr. Troy, he came in promptly and confidently, put some music on, washed his hands, then went straight to injecting the local anesthetic. Soon I couldn’t feel anything, but the surgery was a really, really unpleasant little while anyway. They installed a tourniquet on my arm, to cut off the circulation and hence the bleeding, and frankly that was the worst feeling ever. I could feel my body going into some kind of shock -brain we have a problem, we have suddenly lost the arm!, fighting, resisting, going into panic mode. The numbing sensation was hard, strong, relentless, going stronger and stronger. I was trying to make conversation, anything to stop thinking about it, and so I was asking silly questions about his practice, and he matter-of-factly explained: “I don’t do general anesthesia here, but I do skin surgery, eyelids, lipo… Breasts, noses, full face lifts, and tummy tucks I do at the nearby hospital, although we plan to expand next year and have a full anesthesia center on the premises…” He was grinning with his perfect teeth, as if doing a sales pitch, and I reflected on the totally surreal character of the situation. Then, finally, he said, “done. It was well defined, kind of big but easy to remove. Your tendons are intact. It was the best case scenario.”

The last minutes of him stitching me up were excruciating, and I couldn’t wait for him to say, OK, take it off. He did, so did the nurse, and instantly I started feeling much better. “18 minutes,” she said. “Why are you monitoring the time?,” I asked. “Because we have standards to comply with, and can’t cut off your circulation past a certain length of time.” I didn’t ask what the maximum was, but presumably more than 18 minutes. I got cleaned and bandaged up, and was finally on my feet, required to spend 30 minutes in their nearby post-op lounge.

This was all so sudden that M didn’t even know. I called and said, “I had surgery. My cyst is gone,” to which he replied with a resounding: “What?” “I need to rest for a little while, then I will come home”. I was on a little high then, feeling so relieved and happy that it was over, and it didn’t even hurt! I tweeted a little (seems odd now but what was I supposed to do?) drove home, feeling perfectly OK, hugging LP, making calls to my mom, dad, and boss.

Then, at night, the anesthetic started to wear off. My bandage was pretty tight, and it started to hurt a lot (of course). The doctor had given me some potent painkillers but I only took one, because I don’t like those, they always make me feel out of it without really taking away the discomfort. That night and the following day were the worse. Since this wasn’t planned M had meetings all day and couldn’t stay, so he made sure we would be OK while he was gone, preparing my and LP's clothes, moving things where it was easy for me to take them, even making us lunch before he left for work.

{Right after surgery, still at the clinic}

{Day 1 after, my hand all swollen and yellow from the iodine}

{Day 3, lighter bandage}

{Day 4}

{Day 8}

I've been back at work since Monday. The first day was a little tough, my hand still felt stiff and funny, but I kept getting better, and I'm now pretty much completely recovered. I'm always amazed by this ability with which the human body can heal/regenerate itself. I'm getting the stitches removed later today, and can't wait to see what the doctor says... I will always have a scar, for sure, but hopefully this surgeon is as good as he appeared to be.

I'm hurt (a little)

Of course this had to come sooner or later. I’m used to the question marks in people’s faces upon learning that I write in English. But that was a first: someone telling me that they thought it meant I was betraying and disavowing my own language.

I hate this. You may not be aware of that (and boy, if so, you are blessed), but languages are quite political here. We are 7 million French speakers buried in a sea of over 300 million English speakers, and there’s an inherent sensitivity towards protecting French and keeping it alive. That’s cool. But too often it means using English is loaded, and perceived as being borderline dangerous.

I’m not even sure why I should bother… I’m quite secure in my aptitude to write in French; I mean, it is my first language, the one I’ve done all my schooling in, the only one I spoke until adulthood, the one I still use the most now. I have a master’s degree in French Literature; I’ve written in French loads. I can conjugate a complicated verb faster and more accurately than most of my coworkers from France, even if they still constantly joke that our French is less perfect than theirs. (That’s alright. We can totally get them back with their perplexing fascination with English terms).

So why write this blog in English now? Two smarta* answers first come to mind: Why not? And also: because I can?! Now no would even ask this question to (Goncourt Prize winner) Andrei Makine, the Russian author whom I worked on for my thesis, and yet he doesn’t write in his first language?... But that’s right, that’s because he chose French to write in, the romantic, classic, ideal language of literature…

Seriously, I don’t know. Because I wanted to see if I was able to. Because it was an extra challenge, and one that seemed fun to get into. I thought about doing it bilingual, but frankly it seemed too much of a hassle (literally double the work!) Of course, I knew that this was an imperfect choice, but at one point one must make choices and live with them. For sure I knew this meant that some people around me could not read it well or at least easily, but I guess I hadn’t exactly assessed the depth of the impact. I foolishly figured that these people would maybe appreciate the little English practice, and never thought some could dryly reply that they didn’t need this kind of practice and therefore will rather pass, thanks.

In fact, the main reason I chose to write in English is that it plainly can (potentially) reach A LOT more people. And that’s what I hate, in this sterile debate: it seems difficult for people to grasp the role and purpose of English outside the boundaries of Quebec. How it *is* the main worldwide communication language, the one that can be understood not only in the (much larger) English-speaking world but also in India and Singapore and Brazil and Denmark. French is great, but it remains a very small, limited, and self-referential universe.

I say this victimization, this pettiness, this negativity need not be. Learning new languages (for the record, I’m also skilled in Spanish and German, so that’s not only about English) should not be scolded or viewed negatively, like it poses a threat to your identity and will turn you into the enemy. Learning new languages is a very positive enrichment to life, and too bad for people who can’t understand that, because they don’t know what they’re missing. Not only will it open up your cultural universe and pool of references exponentially, offer fresh and different perspectives, but I would even dare say that it could sharpen your thought process. Because each language is not merely a translation of the next, but rather procures its own way of interpreting meaning, of explaining the world, and this is both fascinating and ever stimulating.

I’m not making a political statement. I’m not picking sides. I’m not blindsided or brainwashed by the others, and I’m certainly NOT expressing any kind of disdain for my own (beautiful) first language, au contraire. I’m just writing a little blog here.

Audacity

I almost titled this post "Boobies!", then thought it probably wasn't such a good idea...

Recently the Quebec TV channel ARTV, which, you’ve guessed it, does cultural programs and all kinds of offbeat artistic shows, launched a series of twelve portraits of its anchors/presenters, all representing an attribute that starts with a letter from the word ARTV, which meant to express what this channel stood for. Like A=Actuel (of-the-moment), R=Rythme (rhythm); you get it…

And the one that stirred the biggest controversy was titled "A for Audacity". It’s a no-frills, full-frontal nude portrait of presenter Catherine Pogonat (you've been warned).

Nudity doesn’t upset or bother me. Especially when, like this, it’s done in such a non-explicitly-sexual setting. I don’t think the photo is so great, but I do admire the girl (who’s also a new mom), for her simultaneous candidness, humility, vulnerability and boldness. Some were shocked and thought that she’d never be taken seriously again. Some were disgusted at the lack of mystery this leaves out. Some found the portrait tasteless and thought she was desperate for attention. Some pointed out that she works in the relatively conservative world of public television, and that it takes figurative balls to dare do that, especially in an age where the Internet will make this picture ubiquitous for years to come. Some also saluted her courage to reveal her body like that, so far from beauty ideals.

Of course, when people say that, it only means one thing: her boobs are small. Because while OK she’s not a bootylicious buxom, she’s still much closer to beauty ideals than, say, Susan Boyle. But in the media at least, being flat-chested may still be an unforgivable crime.

I am, also (the only woman in my family who doesn’t have an ample chest, by the way). And I don’t mind so much, most of the time. They’re small, but also (I think) nice. Maybe because they are, gravity, or even one year of breastfeeding, has had little effect on them. Although I know in theory M finds busty girls sexy, in practice he was never heard complaining, quite the opposite. Would I like them to be bigger? Sure, a little. To fill clothes better and also for balancing out my proportions. I can’t help it: femininity has always been associated with big boobs. Right after I found out I was pregnant, they grew a lot in a matter of days and experiencing this, once in my life, was definitely one of the perks of pregnancy. But until the 16^th week or so, before my “condition” became really obvious (I thought I really showed early on but probably up until then it only seemed like I was naturally plump to most people) it also came with a lot of unwanted, borderline uncomfortable and ewww! attention.

What could I do? Surgery is out of the question. To each their own; I really don’t mean to offend anyone, but I’ve yet to seen fake ones that I think look really good. They all have a telling “plastic” shape and suspicious roundness to them. So the only thing left is to accept and embrace them! I think most guys don’t care that much and think like this co-worker or mine, a true “boob guy”, who told me that he thought bigger sure is a nice bonus, but not a requisite, as long a there is *some* shape.

Still, I was a little offended by this comment over the Audacity portrait, made by a local comedian: “Sure, if the girl has small tits, it’s artistic, but if she has big tits, then it’s vulgar!” I don’t even know where to begin. What do you think?

10 things that make me happy

This is a tag from Rachel, at Peacock Feathers and Diamond Rings…Thanks dear!

1-The thought that even after everything we’ve been through, my husband still surprisingly, genuinely seems to think I’m the most beautiful woman there is

2-Beautiful, fragrant flowers at the office in the dead of winter

3-Days that are starting to get longer

4-LP hugging me tight, giggling, saying “Je t’aime, maman”

5-Supportive, positive, heartwarming comments like the ones I received after my guest post on A Practical Wedding

6-Making a meal that makes everyone ask for seconds and then lick their fingers…

7-Watching movies that take me to France (Julie and Julia, La vie en rose, Coco…)

8-Long, decadent weekend breakfasts

9-Watching my son rocking out to excellent music…

A few words...

I am currently recuperating from a minor hand surgery, which I will talk about towards the end of the week, after I publish the few scheduled posts I have prepared (to give me a little more of a break from writing). Spending these last few days at home on a standstill only made watching the terrible events in Haiti more acute and real...

Because of the French connection, Montreal is like Little Haiti. Haitians are one of the oldest, and most prominent communities established here, and this other tragedy on them hits hard. I can't stop thinking about all these people I crossed path with who were all probably affected, at different levels... From former classmates, whose few faces were the only ones that struck out in my hometown where cultural diversity was a completely abstract concept... Former co-workers, professors, friends, bosses, SIL' former fiance. Favorite writers, journalists, and other public personalities. I can only sincerely hope these people will find the courage to bounce back yet again.

I know that some cynical people have tried to take advantage of the crisis and come up with schemes to divert donations. But I hope people will not be detracted from giving anyway, because right now it's really badly needed.

Please give if you can. There are many legitimate organizations, like the Red Cross, which coordinates international aid. There are also Doctors without Borders, or Wyclef Jean's Yele. We personally chose the Unicef, since the welfare of the children is always what preoccupies us the most.

What can I say, she did it again!

I've said it before, I don't like January much, except for two things: LP's upcoming birthday and the Martha Stewart Living issue. Please don't think that I'm obsessed with her (OK, maybe I am a little), but this magazine is so great, it's really the gold standard for all things pertaining to the home. Her recipes and instructions are always perfectly detailed and explained (and good!) without being really fussy, it's impeccably written, the design and pictures are outstanding, and her team really has a knack for finding interesting things, not just cooking and crafts but also tours of historic homes, peculiar landmarks, artisan farmers who raise heirloom chickens or grow long-gone vegetables, collecting pieces that are part of American history, etc. Don't laugh, M and I definitely have an old farmer's almanac side in us: every Sunday we religiously watch and thoroughly enjoy La Semaine Verte (The Green Week) on the French CBC -it's a program on agriculture and farming, with commercials for cow milking industrial equipment, country fairs and animal shows!

The MSL January issue is always one of my favorites: it perfectly embodies my mood at this time of year, wanting to start over again and do better...

Change things up a little in our home: our current project is installing new shelves above the washer and dryer, to free up a downstairs closet that will inherit all the disorganized and scattered sheets, blankets, pillows and cushions we have. We chose basic ones, but will pretty them up a little with these über-cool decals you now see everywhere.

Start thinking about the next gardening season... Pick forsythia and crab apple branches, bring them inside to put them in water, so in a couple of weeks the warmer air will trick them into thinking it's spring and they will light up our dreary days with their blossoms...

Cook and bake (healthily): Thai chicken soup, citrus muffins, stuffed Savoy cabbage, orange and fennel salad...

Get healthier: I'm determined to lose this weight I've recently gained, and I am back on track thanks to an iPhone app that helps me track my calories... It's so simple but it works, because it really makes you aware of portion sizes and curbs mindless eating...

But my favorite part of this current issue had got to be a feature titled "Fresh Thinking: Organic, Local, Seasonal". It *exactly* summarizes an earlier discussion I initiated on this blog last year about choosing produce (for instance here, here, and here). It provides wonderful explanations, answers, as well as a guideline I will keep on referring to.

For instance, what does organic mean? No chemical pesticides or fertilizers, no GMOs, no irradiation, and no hormones or antibiotics (for animal products). Does organic necessarily means it comes from small farms? Actually no, there are gigantic organic farms that have been accused of repeating the less fortunate models of traditional agriculture, such as planting a single crop that will end up somewhat depleting the soil, but as a trade-off they contribute to the wider distribution and greater affordability of organic products. Which one should be preferred, organic or local? According to them, local in certain circumstances, like if the available organic option comes from really far away. They also address seasonality, emphasizing the good sense solution of at least trying to respect nature's rhythm. Of course at least here it would be virtually impossible to only eat local most of the year, and the idea is not to stop enjoying pineapples and mangoes, but you can still make an effort, like freezing berries at their peak instead of buying them in the winter, when they're not any good anyway.

Every aspect is discussed: costs, availability, nutrition, environment (the most striking statement in the whole article has to be that the runoff from fertilizers used for corn and soy crops in the lower Midwest has created a 3,000 square miles dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico where nothing except damaging algae can survive!!!) Did you know that the fruit most eaten by Americans are bananas, by far? And yet, it is only grown in one state: you've guessed it, Hawaii.

The article additionally lays out a gorgeous spread of the "Dirty Dozen" -the fruits and vegetables that contain the highest levels of pesticides (number 1: peaches) and therefore if bought organic can reduce your exposure to pesticides by a whopping 80%, as well as the "Clean Fifteen" -the ones that contain the lowest levels (number 1: onions) and therefore may not be worth the fuss. I downloaded the list over the summer and keep it in my purse, but really, there's nothing like a visual...

Will I really have a 3 year-old soon?

January has always been one of my least favorite months. But see, my son had the great idea of being born on February 2. Which now means that I have something fun to plan and do in January for many, many years. (Here and here were last year's train bash posts).

This year, firefighters/firetrucks are all the rage. I'm thinking about something like this for a cake:


Which looks more difficult to pull off than it really is (don't forget my mom's an expert). You bake sheet cakes, cut them, and assemble them with buttercream to form the shape. The wheels are store-bought chocolate donuts, and the decorations are piped or made with candy (I would use licorice for the top ladder). I'll buy red, black and gray gel food coloring at a baking supply store, because there's no way you could make this with the liquid kind they sell at the supermarket. I've also asked my brother-in-law, who crafted amazing marzipan shapes for my nephew's and sister's recent birthday cakes, to make us a little fireman and dalmatian. What do you think?

And here's my crazy idea: you see, our neighbor is a firefighter for our town. He loves LP, who's always in complete blindsided adoration in front of him (he has two VERY girly daughters and they couldn't care less about firefighting and red trucks), and LP's pretty much inherited all the toys and paraphernalia he had bought for them but they never looked at. So I thought for this year we could arrange for a little visit of the nearby fire station, and then come back home for cake and games.

Excited!

Yes, she sings, too

Who knew? People seem to like my humble little music posts! So I will try to do them more often then... I know it's still January but I'm not forgetting that one of my 2010 resolutions was to always try and discover new stuff that inspires me and makes me feel good...

Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson - Relator (the album is called Break-Up)

I really like this... I recently heard an interview in which he explained that their collaboration was somewhat inspired by the one Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin had in the sixties. The sleeping together thing excepted, obviously. Or maybe not, what do I know? Ryan may be an open dude.

Another award!

Thanks Dawn, from The Alternative Wife! Only single words can be used to anwser these questions. (Argh! This is so hard for me!)

1. Where is your cell phone? Nearby.

2. Your hair? Mess.

3. Your mother? Busy.

4. Your father? Busier!

5. Your favorite food? Sushi.

6. Your dream last night? Pregnancy.

7. Your favorite drink? Kir.

8. Your dream/goal? Publishing.

9. What room are you in? Office.

10. Your hobby? Flowers.

11. Your fear? Flying.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? California.

13. Where were you last night? Bed.

14. Something you aren’t? Competitive.

15. Muffins? Oatmeal.

16. Wish list item? Handbag.

17. Where did you grow up? Chicoutimi.

18. Last thing you did? Tea.

19. What are you wearing? Dress.

20. Your TV? DVR.

21. Your pets? Goldfish.
22. Your friends? Great!

23. Your life? Good.

24. Your mood? Happy.

25. Missing someone? Julie.

26. Vehicle? Mustang!

27. Something you’re not wearing? Uggs.

28. Your favorite store? J.Crew.

29. Your favorite color? Blue.

30. When was the last time you laughed? Today.

31. Last time you cried? December.

32. Your best friend? iPhone (kidding).

33. One place that I go over and over? NY.

34. One person who emails me regularly? Boss.

35. Favorite place to eat? Mom's.

Please, anyone who wants to do it, feel free!

My globe trotting grandma

My maternal grandmother is one of my favorite people in the world. She's 79, and in very good health and shape. Every day she walks 5 kilometers, and does so at the mall with her pedometer when the weather is too awful. She's coquettish, gets her hair done, and loves her (two-inch) heels, tweed suits and pearls. Nine years ago, during one of her walks in broad daylight, she was attacked by a mentally ill 30 year-old, and she is so vigorous she was able to alert people and get away unharmed by kicking and screaming. She hasn't been very happy with my grandfather, but now is with Oscar, her boyfriend of 13 years, who is a pro gay-marriage, mischievous, youthful 84 year-old. Spending time with her is always very special to me, because I'm so happy to hear her stories, and see her play with LP.

Even after my parents divorced, my father continued to take care of her in his own way, making sure she was alright, getting her doctor appointments, etc. So it was only fitting that he invited her and Oscar to our family Christmas party, and we were really thankful for that. During dinner the topic of traveling came up, and she started talking about her own trips. And I had heard a lot of these anecdotes before, but it seemed it was the first time they really came to life, I could grasp how special they must have been, and how she was as a younger woman.

My grandfather owned an office supply store, which made him financially comfortable, although not insanely wealthy. They lived quite simply but still had some disposable income, which they mostly spent in vacations. It's more normal (while still not completely usual) now for middle-class people to travel often and everywhere, but in the sixties, it was still quite rare and certainly not as easy. Had they lived here in Montreal, it would have already been more probable, since there was an (at the time smallish) airport, but they lived in Chicoutimi, 500 km up north, in a region that was incredibly isolated, without direct roads and access. Many, many people from my hometown have never gotten out of it, and I would say among this generation it's probably the overwhelming majority.

Still, my grandparents made an impressive amount of trips, in a total of twelve different countries! And the way she talked about it was so fantastic... Her eyes were sparking, and she had this pride, this satisfaction of what she accomplished, this sheer happiness in reminiscing the events. I really, really wish I can one day be exactly like that.

I could completely see her, swimming in a volcano lake in Hawaii in her bikini, laughing at my grandfather who was too chicken to jump in. She was my age, a mother of five, and tiny (she used to leave the hospital after giving birth while wearing her normal pants, just with the top button undone), and I love this idea of her, sensual, fearless, aware that she was in paradise and determined to make the most of it.

I can also imagine her in the metro in Mexico City, feeling lost and sick to her stomach because of the altitude. I can imagine her in a train to East Germany, making fun of the weird men that always followed them around -the Stasi, she alleges, and I believe her. Can you believe what it meant to visit East Berlin in the sixties? She saw Paris, London, Barcelona, Prague and Amsterdam decades before me and in a very different way than I did -probably much more authentic, less touristy. One of my earliest memories is of her bringing me back a beautiful, kilt-and-black-velvet-hat-wearing doll from Scotland; I was two...

Woot! Woot!

My friend/hero Gretchen, mother of Prince Liam and founder of Cookies for Kids Cancer, has made the list!

She's part of Woman's Day Women Who are Changing the World feature. You might have vaguely heard of a few other ladies in there: Michelle Obama, Hillary Clinton, Martha Stewart, Oprah Winfrey, Maria Shriver, Katie Couric, Angelina Jolie, Bette Midler, etc.

Congratulations, you're truly amazing!

{Gretchen with Ella and Liam, as featured in the December 2009 issue of O Magazine!}

An Empire State of Mind

Concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There’s nothing you can’t do
Now you’re in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new
These lights will inspire you...

That's exactly what I had in mind during our trip to my favorite city last week.

{The Rockefeller Center from a 4th floor window at Saks Fifth Avenue...}

{A vision of spring in the wintry streets}

{Snowy lion at the Public Library}

{Snowball fight in Bryant Park}

{Chelsea Market}

{Meatpacking District}

{A pensive moment in a Soho restaurant, New Year's Eve}

{We rang in the New Year one block from Times Square, because the whole perimeter had been blocked for hours and we couldn't get nearer. Obviously we didn't know but wouldn't have made it anyway with LP... He was sleeping soundly in his stroller by the way, until the noise woke him up at 11:58, so that's why he looks so confused and unhappy in the picture! We could see the Square, hear everything, and see the million confetti when the ball dropped, but couldn't get in. Oh well. The atmosphere was still fun and crazy! Can I still add this to my life list? Because I personally absolutely think so.}



{Playful at the Museum of Natural History... "I don't want to see dinosaurs", he negotiated with us. "Only crocodiles. Crocodiles, I like".}

An unexpected connection

A few months ago, one of my distant relatives died quietly in my hometown, after a long battle with cancer. She was my mother's cousin (her father and my grandpa were brothers), and in her mid-sixties.

I had only seen her a few times when I was a child. Still, I knew that her story was a sad one: she was married to a real a**hole, an alcoholic, belligerent, completely mean and out-of-control man. He was always putting her down, never held a real job that could support his family, and people were whispering that he was sometimes robbing wealthy houses for jewelery, then selling it to a local crook store. They had four boys, who unsurprisingly were all trouble: they got expelled from school, got into fights, got into drugs, were always disrespectful. I distinctively remember my parents being tense when we saw them, which must not have been very cool to her.

The mental image I have of her is a little dejected: she was only about 40, but looked much, much older, as if she wore all that personal drama in her face. She looked completely worn out, with deep, deep undereye circles, gray skin (the chain smoking must have not helped), and bad teeth. She didn't hold herself up right, she wore terrible clothes and had a terrible haircut. She probably had zero self-esteem, and had lived through so much disappointment and sorrow it seemed her eyes were dead.

Still, she stuck by him, always did. And you know how the jerk thanked her when she died? By not holding a proper funeral, and not even publishing her obituary, people say because he couldn't wait to "finally get rid of her". Two of her sons didn't even come when she died. That's true class.

During the Holidays, I visited her sister, with whom we used to be much closer, and it was truly a highlight of our trip. And on her fridge, was this picture of the deceased, at 17 years old:


And not only her freshness, beautiful clear eyes, and transient youth completely struck me, for it was such a sharp contrast compared to what I remembered from her, but something looked familiar, too. And then my mother and "auntie" simultaneously shouted: "My gosh! She looks SO MUCH like you!"

And it was so true it was actually a little scary. It might not be so clear for people who don't know me that well, but let's just say that when he saw the picture, LP said: "Mommy!" (and several other people were fooled, including my in-laws). We couldn't exactly have passed for twins, but still, it was completely striking: the forehead, the eyes, the upper lip mole, the hairline, the brows, the square jaw, the mouth, the ears, are all nearly identical.

{That would be me at the same age ...}

All my life, I've always been told I was my father's daughter, that I was taking up after him so much, not necessarily physically (although I certainly have a distinct "family expression", which I can also see in my son), but for everything else. And it's absolutely right: in terms of character, personality and disposition, but also through many other physical traits like my body type, weird hands and feet, nose, etc. I never, ever saw, or was reminded of, any connection to my mother's family, and then this. At nearly thirty-five, this is the first thing in my life that makes me say, I am my mother's daughter too, after all.

(I truly hope she is happier now.)

Musical inspiration for the new year

Two bands I recently discovered and find inspiring and uplifting as hell...

Visqueen

First, listen to this Seattle band.



Then, AFTER having heard this fantastic music and kind of voice that completely moves me to my core, learn that on top of lead singer Rachel Flotard being so cute and talented and cool, she wrote the songs from their latest album called Message to Garcia after taking care of her father, who had incurable cancer, for years.

Pheonix

They're French! A spinoff of Daft Punk actually. And not to make fun of the French (bonjour chers cousins!), but as good as they are in a million different things, English is generally not one of them. However, this guy sings in this *great* English, which makes me wildly curious! There's a quality in there that reminds me of first listening to The Killers' Hot Fuss: part amazing, melodious 80's interpretation, part completely of-the-moment sensibility. Plus, EVERY guy looks like someone I would have completely fallen head-over-heels for in university (more Brit than French, if you ask me). LP is now constantly ordering us to play the "Cadillac song".

Feeling brand new

The Holidays were great (no! one! was! sick!), but they seemed a bit like a big road trip, including the not eating well, living out of suitcases and having disrupted schedules aspects. Always fun, but also tiring enough for us to long for home sweet home.

We spent time with family, many people we had not seen in a while, and this was lovely. And I know last week in one of my scheduled posts I said I did not have an iPhone, but at the time being that was actually a lie. M got me one for Christmas, even though we said our present was the vintage Mustang and we would only offer each other little things. So I got him a joke t-shirt and a framed old map of Manhattan, and of course, he gets me the best present ever. Every year it's like that; when will I ever learn?

And of course, I love it so much I never want to put it down. It opens up SO many possibilities! I know you all probably have been having one for like 3 and a half years, but I've been known to adopt new technologies a little on the late side, at least for someone who works and lives in a real tech-savvy environment. Among other things, it makes photo and video taking and sharing so much easier... Expect me to become more of a randomly opportunistic shutterbug in the near future!

{Someone's not so sure about that tie...}

{No, OK, that's alright...}

{I wore the Choos...}

I'm not a winter person, but I must say I love this time of year, with its renewal and promises. Take a step back and reflect, simplify, de-clutter, get organized, renovate, improve things around the house, lose friggin' 10 pounds... Let's do it. Bring it on!

Happy New Year!

May this new decade be good to you, bring you all kinds of fresh perspective and appetite for life, and take away all the less great things you could do without.

So here were my resolutions for 2009:

• Chill (yeah, I would say I'm on par with this one. Always room for improvement though).
• Spend more couple time with M (Again room for improvement, but not that bad and overall I would say we're in a really good place now)
• Finally shed those pesky last post-pregnancy pounds (did before the wedding, but then gained it back :-( )
• Figure out a way to maybe make some money with my (non-IT-related) writing (mh, no)
• Take wedding planning more seriously while still not taking it so seriously that it will take over our lives (well, we're married. And I'm pretty glad about the way everything turned out).
• Now that our job is mostly done, try to make LP get a job at the coal mine and move out by the end of the year (damn, complete failure on this one).

So I would give myself a good old not-overachieving B.

Now 2010:

• Really, fully, completely reconcile with this idea of giving LP a sibling
• Make wonderful discoveries that make me feel enlightened and alive (music, readings, movies, etc.)
  
• Always try to find ways to become a better person, wife, mother, relative and friend
• Launch a kicka*s website for my flower sideline, get more contracts
• Count my blessings.