Home

So, we're moving back to Canada in June, which is very exciting and thrilling and wonderful, but also sad and nerve wracking and terrible.

When we were back in Ottawa over Christmas we had lots of glorious moments of reconnecting with home. Obviously being near our family and friends is the best thing ever. Many of our friends have managed to produce teeny tiny little babies and it will be very terrific to be closer to those new people and watch them grow and strategically leave the room when it's time to change their diapers (babies', not friends').

Also, of course, Canada is very simple and easy... It's a cinch to drive around places, no one cuts you off, drives on sidewalks, tailgates (much), the roads are big and straight and parking lots are huge. Andrew and I actually had a moment where we pulled into some big parking lot (maybe out at Bayshore) and were stunned by all of the wide, free spots available (and this was Christmas, remember). We sat in the car and actually laughed with joy at how easy and non-crowded it was.

At one point while we were home I had to activate a credit card that we'd had for a couple of years, but never turned "on." I steeled myself for an ordeal of explanations, rudeness and horror. Especially because I couldn't remember the security information I had given them two years ago -- My old office phone number? Dudes, I forgot that the minute I walked out of the building... Miraculously, however it all went like buttah. The girl I was dealing with was pleasant and she activated my card just like that. I didn't have to get forms signed in triplicate, I didn't have to go to the Town Hall to prove that I was who I said I was, I didn't have to wait three weeks or pay 10 euros... it was just done over the phone... The best part? It actually worked.

Of course it wasn't all peach blossoms and lifesavers... Mother of mother of mother, it gets really really cold! Cripes. I had forgotten just how horrifying minus 20 can be. Also, all of that snow, even on wide lovely roads filled with non-crazy drivers, is still a pain in the arse when you're trying to go somewhere. You have to put boots on, coat on, hat on, scarf on, mittens on... You have to shovel off the driveway, scrape off the car, then you have to sit in the freezing car and negotiate slippery ice filled roads to get to your destination only to have to take you boots, hat, mitts, scarf, coat off for an hour or two only to do the whole process again. Exhausting.

Still, even with the cold, we managed to enjoy the snow. We were little winter wonderland troopers. We went skiing behind Andrew's dad's place:


Hee! Andy was amazed that I managed to take a photo of him skiing and completely cut off his actual skis... Being a bad photographer is a gift, I tell you.

We saw hockey games, hiked in the woods, hot tubbed under snowflakes and Andy even managed to squeeze in some ice skating (not on the canal, unfortunately which still wasn't open. I mean, it was minus 20, guys, how cold does it have to be before that sucker is opened up?) We went to Andy's niece and nephew's skating lesson and he got to skate with them as well as our sister-in-law Ellen).



We also went out and hunted for the Bertrand-Horrall Christmas tree. Here's a snap of two tall Horrall men, and one on his way to great heights:

Finding the tree was much less painful than the tree hunts that the Tector clan would embark on in our childhood. Back in the day we (well, my dad and the kids, my mum very wisely stayed home making hot chocolate) would troop out into a neighbours woodlot, which was not in any way designed to harvest Christmas trees, but was just a woods on the guy's property.

We would look everywhere for a suitable tree, falling into the snow, getting increasingly cold, whining, fighting and crying until out of desperation my dad would just grab the nearest Christmas-tree-like thing possible and stuff it into the van. Inevitably it would always be a scraggily monstrosity. We were the kings of Charlie Brown trees -- my father would actually cut branches off in some parts and glue/tape/staple/drill them into other "bare" patches elsewhere and then we were only allowed to put the lightest ornaments on those branches. Also, one year, we chopped down a tree that had grown into some barbed wire, so it was both a symbol of Christmas and a deadly implement.

Anyway.
Besides partake in many different winter sports, dance in cougar bars and eat an enormous amount of food, the other thing we did was buy a house. We take possession March 31. Tra la la.

Very exciting.

Pretty fireplace and lovely mantle:

Sink in the basement that Kathryn suggested we get re-finished and use as our kitchen sink, which would make our kitchen sort of industrial and cool -- like we're welders by day, exotic dancers by night with secret hopes of becoming ballerinas...

Staircase with fab green carpet, which we're really psyched about.

The back room off the kitchen where the current owners have chosen to hang their stuffed partridge, but where we'll probably hang our moose head.

So, yes. The place obviously needs lots and lots of work, but our friend Zip (http://mainrenovations.com/index.html) is on the job.

Hurray for HOME.