Changing Gears

As my loyal readers can guess, the PR card of my rambunctious three year old, Lanes, is still missing. I finally have a clue as to what happened to it, but I am not at liberty to say anything on a blog…for now (I have to figure out if I am allowed to). But if and when I can, it’s going to be an entertaining episode.

My tried and true spouse, P, has changed gears and downgraded his resume. He is no longer using adjectives like spearheading or stir frying or whatever it is he used to claim to do while executing tasks and he has moved from head hunters to temp agencies. We figured at least that way he might get a hold of that elusive brass ‘wring’ (as I call it) that is called Canadian work experience.

It seems the way to go because no matter how qualified one is, it means nothing without having had familiarity in the local workforce. Also, to know P is to love P, so whenever he does get a temp job, his employers will get to know how hard working (euphemism for anal) and dedicated he is to his job. Plus, the guy really knows his stuff. So here’s hoping things work out. It seems right now, getting him out of the house and gaining experience trumps actually earning a living in a steady job.

Meanwhile, the last two weekends have been gloriously sunny and we finally made our way to Stanley Park. My nutty sister and her family had come for literally 24 hours and we had a good walk in the great outdoors. Lanes had a lovely time jumping off logs and sliding on rocks with my brother-in-law, whom she affectionately calls “Big Daddy”.

It’s mildly embarrassing when she runs around in public screeching “Big Daddy, Big Daddy”. I feel like I should get “Big Daddy” a white suit with a pencil thin bow tie. I'd supply a bucket of chicken as an assessory. ‘Big Daddy’ is indeed from the south (of the US, so that might work, give or take a pot belly). I was so in awe of the beauty around me that I decided to ignore the antics of uncle and niece.

That night my nutty sister, or as Lanes calls her, (drum roll) “Big Mamma” (I strongly encouraged that nickname since I find it hilarious) babysat Lanes so that P and I could escape to have dinner alone for the first time since we got here. We had a lovely meal at an Indian restaurant with the really nice couple (and their daughter, who is close to my age but not P's) we know in Surrey. It was nice to have some 'adult' time with them.

I don’t know what went down while I was gone, but in the morning Lanes was calling me Aunty and my sister ‘mamma’. We had the usual drama when they left. Lanes burst out crying and insisted on going with them. She still doesn’t get the whole they live in another country thing yet. If she does, she finds it inconvenient. Crossing borders is apparently not a big deal to her. Pretty ambitious for someone who has no PR card.

Meanwhile we noticed mold developing in our apartment, probably an after effect of the great flood last week. Lanes has developed a cough and I’m really frightened that there is a correlation between the two incidents. I ferociously attacked the spots with bleach.

I put on my contacts after that and thought I had gone blind, only to figure out that I had put on P’s contacts instead. Whew. Nice to know that I haven’t sprouted any brain cells over the past few months. Must be due to all the interaction I have with strong cleaning supplies.

I must sign off for now. Lanes was pretending to be chased by a wolf and ran into our bedroom to slam the door just when I was picking up a sock that was stuck under the threshold and the door knob rammed me in the ribs. I am in much pain!! So adieu for now until next week…