Seedy Sunday

Eldest child went skiing for first time ever, on a day trip with school. He loved it. As a family so far this winter, we've now skated, skied, sledded and snowball-fought. Younger son loves the building 'quinzhees' in the school playground; these are igloo-like dome-shaped shelters formed of snow. I envision their collapse and consequent suffocation of children within but my concerns are ridiculed by children and other parents alike. What do I know; I'm a foreigner in these parts.

So, snow and ice are the order of the day. But it turns out that today is in fact Seedy Sunday here in Toronto, marking the official start of the growing season. As far as I can see only the icicles are growing but I was persuaded to buy three packets of tomato seeds, which I will plant. Indoors.

Divided by a common tongue

Not to brag, but my husband has a Ph.D. from the University of Cambridge (the one in England, the country in which he was born and raised). He has also taught there, and at two other well-regarded English universities. So what did he do yesterday? He spent all day, as well as $250, being tested on his command of the English language-- a requirement for obtaining permanent residency in Canada. Part of the test involved an oral interview; at the end of it, the interviewer smiled wryly, made sure the tape recorder was turned off, and said 'Thank you for playing the game.' Nice little earner for the testing company, eh?

Harrrumph.

Hearts attack and other woes

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Tonight, at 7:30 pm, the two younger children remembered that they had been given lists of everyone in their class-- in order to make cards to distribute. Now I remember; that's what I did every year at elementary school. Cue frantic rush to create computer-generated facsimiles of the Hallmark classics; 19 for one child, 27 for the other. The youngest is spending far more time on this than on her homework.

So much for hearts. Our lungs are not faring well either in these icy climes. Three weeks ago I developed a cold, which turned into a full-blown asthma attack. I'd never experienced one before and didn't recognize it. I did discover the utility of Telehealth Ontario, the local version of NHS Direct, but a lot more helpful. They actually suggested actions I could take other than going to the emergency room (or 'the emerg' as the nurse called it). I hung on till morning and went to see the doctor. I'm much better.

However a week later, middle child came down with a fever which lasted 8 days. Two visits to the same doctor found nothing in particular; the diagnosis remained 'persistant virus'. I decided to take action and apply some potions; chicken soup plus steam inhalations (sprinkled with essential oils; witch doctor stuff). He began coughing, violently; so violently in fact that his poor little stomach muscles got in on the act and expelled his dinner. Delightful. His temperature dropped but the coughing continued, so back to the doctor we went. Finally we agreed that a chest x-ray was in order; lo and behold, he has pneumonia! A course of antibiotics has done wonders.

The Snow Day

Yesterday the Toronto District School Board declared a school closure day, the first in a dozen years, on account of the big snowstorm forecast. Joy was unconfined! The kids had a veritable blast; our day included visiting friends, hot chocolate, sledding, ice skating at a nearby park, sitting by our friends' fireplace, a snowball fight, and more hot chocolate. Unfortunately for the poor official who made the call, the snow lacked storm. We got a lovely fresh layer of white but nothing to write home about. Toronto is now the laughing stock of Canada.

I joined the laughter. Pah, I said, it's just a few centimeters of snow. What's the big deal? Off I trooped with the children, skates on our backs, up the road.

Scary. I'm acculturating.

why do they call it a phone?

One of the deals I made with husband was that if I dutifully followed him across the wide Atlantic sea, we would get me an iPhone (all things considered, I'm a cheap date). And lo, it came to pass. Now my problem is that I'm addicted, even perhaps besotted, with the device. It's so useful and so much fun. I play with it, rely on it to tell me what to do when, follow its maps, connect it to the internet, take photos, and lately I have been reading books on it using 'apps' like Kindle and Kobo. I love it. I rarely actually use it to talk to someone though. Can't we find another word beside 'phone' to describe this lovely object? It really should have been the final artifact in the BBC's 'History of the World in a Hundred Objects.' Solar-powered lamps? They can't hold a (ahem) candle to the iPhone.