Day trip

Yesterday Henry and I headed up to Big White Ski Resort with Dave and Kristy for a few hours of fun in the snow. We didn't ski or go tubing, but we did get to climb a few snow mounds, hang out in the village, and ride the gondola between the two main village areas. I used to ski at Big White almost every weekend when I was a teenager, but I hadn't been up there since 1990 or so. Like almost everything else associated with Kelowna, the resort has grown exponentially in that time. Also, it seems that everyone who works there is Australian.

It's nice that Henry's starting to "age in" to these kinds of activities; he's at the point developmentally where he appreciates the novelty of going somewhere new and can actively take part in the fun. Here are some photos.

Merry Christmas!

Busy morning around here. Henry was officially Spoiled Rotten for Christmas, so it took quite awhile to open all his gifts. Quote of the day from him: "Wow--look at all these presents!" Wow indeed. I posted photos of all the fun: click here to check it out.

Travel + Leisure

We're off to Kelowna tomorrow for Christmas. Coincidentally, CNN featured an article on Okanagan wine country on its travel and leisure site today. I still can't believe that the podunk town where I grew up is now peppered with all these
frou-frou wineries and artisanal cheese makers. It's a very surprising development.

Where's winter?

The calendar and the thermometer have been out of sync for the last week. We've been enjoying remarkably mild weather, as in several degrees above freezing, for most of the month. It's been gray and rainy a lot, but I'd rather deal with that than snow. You don't have to shovel rain. On the downside, the Canal is nowhere near being ready for skating. In fact, large sections of it are completely ice-free. Unless things turn around quickly, it's shaping up to be a very short skating season.

Of course, one of the two really cold days we've had this month was last Thursday, when the official illumination ceremony on Parliament Hill took place. Hoping to break free of our usual stay-inside-itis, we decided to venture over and take in the event. What a boondoggle. First, I am not overly familiar with downtown Ottawa, and I drew more than one middle finger as I puttered around, clueless, looking for parking during rush hour. That task accomplished, we walked up to the Hill, and soon confronted the reality that it was cold. Really, really cold. Like, -12 C/10 F. Much too cold to stand around in an open area, waiting for Christmas lights to be turned on. Man, it was a trial. Officials from various organizations gave endless speeches. In Both Official Languages. All of it was rendered unintelligible by the tinny P.A. system. The Prime Minister gave a speech. I don't think I've ever heard a Canadian prime minister give a speech live. It would have been more meaningful if we had been able to actually hear what he was saying. We listened to garbled messages from all 10 premiers and 3 territorial leaders. More French. Blah blah blah. We waited for the lights. Waited and waited. It was pretty dark where we were standing, and Henry spent the whole time saying, "Can we go home?", and "I'm scared." Finally, the countdown. And then. . . not much. A snowflake pattern was projected onto Parliament. Maybe some trees or something were lit up as well--it was hard to tell from where we were standing. A choir started singing over the lousy P.A., and that was that. We hauled our frozen behinds back to the car and cranked the heat.

So the event was a bust. But hey, we tried. We redeemed the evening by going out to the local burger joint, where Henry proceeded to hoover two orders of mac and cheese, plus a chocolate milkshake. And on that note, I want to give my kid some credit. I complain a lot about the difficult aspects of his personality (the bad sleeping, the picky eating, the stubborn refusal to ride in strollers), but I'm happy to report that he's remarkably well behaved in public. The lighting ceremony was a pretty miserable way to spend an hour, but his complaints were quiet and totally legitimate. And it's really great that we can take him out to eat without having to worry that he'll throw a tantrum and force us to leave. As long as he's got some room to roam (and by this I don't mean, "as long as he can be a total menace by running through the dining room uninhibited") and a toy or two, he's almost always happy to hang out and take in the scene while we eat. And that goes for most other activities, too. So there you go--it's not all a struggle with him. Most of the time we have a lot of fun together. But I doubt we'll make it to the illumination ceremony next year.

Amazing Race: The most shocking conclusion ever!

I kid, I kid. I expected the outcome to be predictable, but I wasn't prepared for it to be so dull. And easy. It just wasn't the final leg we're used to seeing. Well, there were some enjoyably tense moments in the first half of the show, what with the missed trains and dueling airports and what not, but it kind of fizzled out after that. I guess the show doesn't have the audience to merit a 2-hour finale anymore, which is a shame. Oh well. Overall, I'd give the season a B. Great locations, good challenges, okay casting. At least the Junkies threw in one pissy argument before they waltzed to their inevitable prize. They were worthy winners, I suppose, but dull to watch. The McBickers, who amused me greatly with their petty grudges and hilarious fights, lost all claim to winning when they tried to follow the Junkies to the clue location in New York because they didn't know exactly where it was. Come. On. There must have been some native New Yorkers on that flight from Paris, or someone with a guidebook. They should have been working the plane to at least find out the right intersection. So that was lame, and then a bit of bad cab luck at the toll sealed their fate. A final Road Block would have been exciting. Oh well.

I wonder how far behind Bama ended up being?

So, the million goes to the favorites. Since they're models, I assume they live in L.A., where their million dollar prize, split in half and then split in half again by taxes, might buy them each a studio apartment in a less desirable neighborhood. Unless the rumors are true and they are in fact a couple. In that case, they can pool their money and get a 1-bedroom place. Enjoy!

I'm looking forward to seeing if the rumors about the next installment being an "All Star" edition are true. That will be something to see. In the meantime, back to real life for me.

Addendum: I was just reading a big "spoiler" website/dose of Internet crack where people from around the world report Amazing Race sightings. Turns out the Paris leg of the finale was filmed on the same day we were there in June. Do you have any idea how badly I would have geeked out if I'd seen a clue box when I went up the Eiffel Tower? Lordy!

All I want for Christmas is a king size bed

I found this article a few weeks ago. It turned up when I did yet another Google search for "toddler won't sleep." I shared it with Tom last night around 11 p.m., when Henry was entering Hour 3 of his prolonged protest about being put to bed. Yes--3 hours standing up in his crib, alternately crying, shrieking, or just babbling away to himself and his stuffed animals (that part is kind of cute). Just a typical night around here. As most of you are probably aware, Henry's poor sleep habits have been the dominating issue of our household since literally the day we brought him home from the hospital. For the longest time we've been searching for a way to get him to that by-the-book ideal of 10-12 hours of sleep at night, coupled with a 2-3 hour afternoon nap. Honestly, I might as well set my sights on winning the Nobel Prize for physics. We've searched long and hard for a solution to the sleep issue, but everything we try fails eventually.

Our experience has been very similar to that described in the article. It's funny that I found it when I did, because I've also given up. It's time. Tom and I long ago started suspecting that Henry just doesn't have the strong biological need for extended sleep that most kids his age do. (Many other times we've suspected that we're simply incompetent parents when it comes to this particular aspect of child rearing, but I'm over that.) In trying to swim against this current, we've been through it all. The countless sleep books read and techniques attempted in the hope that Henry would develop normal sleep habits. Positive sleep associations. The regular bedtime routine. The white noise CD. Etc., etc. We've Ferberized him so many times I think we should tattoo a trademark on his forehead. Sometimes we'll see a bit of improvement for a few months, but soon enough, Henry will go back to his usual routine of not wanting to go to bed, and/or not staying asleep for more than a few hours at a time. It's frustrating and exhausting. Last winter I was almost driven insane by Henry's persistent, repeated night waking, which I tried to deal with in the prescribed way by ignoring his cries in the middle of the night, hoping in vain that he'd learn to go back to sleep on his own. Maybe if we lived in a bigger house it would work. But there's nothing more miserable than lying awake at 3 in the morning, listening to the child in the next room shriek his head off. And doing that night after night. It is torture. And as Henry closes in on his 3rd birthday, I just don't think it's going to change in any profound way.

So, no more. I quit! Henry wins this round. We don't try to put him down for afternoon naps anymore. It's pointless. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, I don't go into his room for a quick soothing, then head back to my own bed, because he rarely goes back to sleep. No, I just go get him and put him into our bed. Yes, it's crowded. Yes, some nights he kicks and squirms like a rodeo heifer. But it beats the alternative (I lie awake while Henry screams his head off), and when he's close I can deal with subsequent wakings with a quick cuddle. We'll stick with our established nightly bedtime routine, and enjoy those evenings when he goes down without a fuss. But I just won't count on it happening every night, and I'll try not to get frustrated when it takes him hours to fall asleep.

On the bright side, one common denominator I've noticed with super-successful people is that they can get by on very little sleep. So maybe Henry's just priming himself for a climb up the golden ladder. In the meantime, the only practical solution I see to our little problem is a king size bed. What do you say, Santa?

Amazing Race: Memories of post past

Just a few more detours requiring upper body strength, the weak will fall away, and we'll be watching the two teams of young, strong guys battle it out for the money, along with that rageaholic young guy who'll be dragging his rageaholic girlfriend across the finish line while she calls him names.

Yep, I bet Tyler and James are already planning the bender that's going to start about 7 minutes after they find a payday loan store in Midtown that will cash an oversize check for a million dollars.

That's what I predicted back on October 10th. Two out of three ain't bad. But I have to admit that my correct picks were very easy to make. In a million years I never would have picked Bama for the Final Three. It's not unusual for a much weaker team to squeak through, usually through some weird string of good luck emanating from bad racing. I thought either Bama or Rage Against the Machine were doomed when they opted for the dreaded "needle in a haystack" detour over a relatively straightforward physical challenge. That decision usually spells doom. But then it turned out to be really easy to find a clue in the pile of tomatoes. So, what seemed like a bad decision led to a good outcome, and the DOA Blondes (who weren't given any obvious opportunities to overcome the half-hour non-elimination penalty) were out.

Obviously, the tomato fight detour was Comedy Gold, and I heartily thank that couple (What are their names again? Does anyone care?) for heading into the maelstrom. I also enjoyed dude's random emotional breakdown at the finish line. If they don't win the million, does that mean they won't get married? We can only hope. Regardless of the outcome, their bickering and Karlyn's personality disorder should make for an entertaining finale. And I'm sticking with my original prediction: Unless good racing brings bad luck and things get all messed up for reasons beyond the racers' control, the Junkies will win.

If Bama wins, I'll stop predicting forever.

Culture, smulture

A few weeks back the parents were asked to fill in an evaluation form for the kiddie music class we've been attending. Beyond the expected questions about how we enjoyed the class, etc., the form asked about the music our child listens to at home. Tom filled out our form, and I wasn't aware of what he said on it. Cut to last class. The teacher introduced the "dance along" music segment by saying she was very interested to read what Tom had put down as the music Henry likes to listen to, and that she was curious to see if he'd recognize this remake. Cue the music. Apparently it's a discofied version of some music from the opera "Carmen." It's no big surprise that Henry doesn't seem to recognize the tune, since we don't spin a lot of opera around here. I'm looking confused and the teacher is looking at us expectantly. The mystery is solved when another little boy's mom pipes up and says that it's her kid who likes to listen to "Carmen." To save face, the teacher asks Henry what his favorite song is. He says nothing for a minute, then offers, "um, Jakers!" Which is, of course, the theme song for a TV show.

Sigh. My failure to follow the dictates of perfect yuppie parenting is exposed yet again. Due to the limitations of my own musical taste and CD collection, Henry's mind is not being shaped by the magic known as "Mozart Effect" program. I guess I won't bother filling out his application for early admission to Harvard. Or Juilliard, for that matter.

O glorious morning!

Something exceedingly rare and wonderful happened this morning. Henry slept in--until 8:45 a.m.!!! It's a Christmas miracle, 22 days early. Usually he's rearing to go by 7, and when he does sleep a bit later than that, it tends to be on school days when we have to get up anyway. I can't remember the last time both Tom and I got to sleep in until 8:45 on a Sunday. Heaven.

A blast of winter

After several days of downright balmy temperatures, winter decided to show up today. A day of that delightful downfall known as "mixed precipitation," i.e. icy slush. Ick. The real freeze should be here any day. . .

Amazing Race: A good race ruined

I get annoyed with this show when skillful racing is not rewarded. Last night we saw the Bama girls show some serious smarts in battling against three teams that outclass them physically, dislike them, and fail to respect them as competitors. Lynn and Karlyn showed that pack of Tighty Whiteys a few things about navigating, thinking ahead, and staying focused (seriously--are the Bama girls the only team left capable of reading a map and/or finding their own way to a location?) Their reward? A well-earned chance to yield the Beauty Queens was snatched away by an "hours of operation" bunch-up, and they lost first place in a foot race to the physically gifted/mentally challenged Junkies. Lame. Even though Karlyn is clearly crazy and quite dislikeable, I'm starting to hope that some miracle combination of luck, skill and good timing will keep Bama in the race right to the end. Heck, I'd even cheer to see them win it, although that outcome seems highly improbable (remember the foot race).

Also, why oh why does the dreaded Yield always pop up on non-elimination legs? Is its sole purpose to sew seeds of bitterness between the teams? I think this twist needs some rethinking.

For maximum drama, I'd like to see a final three of the Beauty Queens, Bama and the McBickers. The Junkies are definitely the dullest of the remaining teams, and beyond that, as an all-male team going up against one co-ed and two all-female teams, the massive advantage they have in the physical challenges offends my sense of fair play. So, here's hoping that the gods of bad cab rides, missed connections and poor navigating conspire to send them to an early exit next episode.

Happy Thanksgiving

Things are crazy busy around here (I didn't even have time to watch The Amazing Race on Sunday). But I still want to take the time to say Happy Thanksgiving to all you Yanks out there. Enjoy it.

We'll be having the traditional Thanksgiving stirfry around here.

The Amazing Race: They're just not that into you

Dear Cho Bros:

You're nice guys. You're nice guys who take pride in being nice guys. A couple of nice guys is who you are. We get it. So it hurts me to break it to you, but I feel I must. Lynn and Karlyn: They're just not that into you. Oh sure, they'll send some love your way when it's convenient, but maybe you've noticed their pattern of consistently ditching you at every opportunity. Maybe, in your hearts, you can see that you were always a couple cans short of a six pack, and now that Dave and Mary are gone, well, it's silly to even talk about "the pack". Not only are you missing a few cans, you don't even have that plastic thingy that holds the cans together and poses a threat to wildlife once it ends up in the landfill. It's over, guys. Best to do your mourning in private and move on. Maybe you could funnel the hurt you're feeling into some competitive energy and actually TRY to do well in this race. How about it? You can show those heartless women what they're missing. You go, boys!

As for the race in general: watching this season has become a bit weird for me. See, I think the producers have done a great job setting it up, and I've really enjoyed watching the creative, relevant, and sometimes brutal challenges. Locations also have been great. But I'm finding I just don't much care who wins. And that's a problem when you're watching a contest. As a spectator, you've got to have a proverbial dog in the fight to get engaged in the action. Pulling for one team over another is what makes it fun. Hoping for one team to lose is even more fun. But when you don't care one way or another, you're just not going to experience that kind of heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat excitement that you get when you care about the outcome.

So, to keep me in it, I've decided I have to pick a team. Let's see: The models are bland, and I can never, ever cheer for the young athletic dudes. It would be like cheering for the Yankees. The Chos are hopeless. I can't cheer for incompetence. Bama is outclassed. The McBickers are entertaining but far from likeable. Not much to work with there. That leaves the Blondies. Yes, they're sketchy. Yes, it's off-putting how they refer to Team Bama as "The Sistas" behind their backs. Yes, they're Beauty Queens (lame). But dammit, they're competing. And they're competing with glee. They act like they actually want to win. So that's that: against all odds, I'm going with Team T&A.

Having an average weekend

What is an average weekend? It goes something like this:

Saturday morning: Henry and I head to our "Music Together" class for an hour of singing and dancing. The teacher this fall is new, and not quite as engaging as the previous instructor. But today the class goes pretty well. When we're done, we get back into the car and head for the grocery store to tackle the weekend's big chore. It used to be impossible to shop with Henry because he'd refuse to sit in the cart. But these days he's fine with it. As long as I give him a raisin pita to munch on and hand each item of food to him for inspection before dropping it in the cart, he actually seems to enjoy the errand. We arrived at the giant Loblaw's right around 11 a.m., and while I was babbling away to Henry and scanning my list, I slowly realized that everyone else in the store was standing perfectly still, silent, with their head bowed down. I was weirded out for a second, then it hit me: Remembrance Day! Moment of Silence at 11:11! Oops! I stopped in my tracks and told Henry to hush. He responded by yelling LALALALALALA-LA-LA! Oh well. He's two. What can you do?
Saturday afternoon: Blah blah housework. Blah blah freelance work. Blah blah entertain Henry. Same old same old. But today, an exciting twist: Tom's new colleague is having a dinner party. Everyone invited has small children, so it starts at 4 p.m. We have fun, although I spend the first half of the party filled with envy at the guy's house. It's nice. As in, they gutted the interior of an old character house and pimped the place out with high-end fixtures and a gourmet kitchen. How does an assistant professor swing this, I wonder. Turns out the guy's wife is a doctor. Ah. Anyway, we enjoy the company. Really good food. And Henry always loves playing with another kid's toys.
Saturday evening: We leave the party around 7:30. Even though we're the first to leave, staying that "late" means we're pushing it with Henry's bedtime. We gamble and lose. Henry's in a great mood until we walk in the door. Then he kicks off a 3-alarm tantrum, refusing to sit down in the bath and demanding to be put back in the clothes he wore to the dinner party instead of his pajamas. We comply, because this is one of those times it's just not worth the fight. After much hollering he settles in to sleep, and Tom and I settle in to watch our favorite show, Battlestar Galactica (don't laugh--it's awesome).

Sunday morning: Henry wakes up at 7 a.m. At least we don't have to get him dressed this morning. For some reason, he will not let me come downstairs with him most mornings. Daddy Only is the hard and fast rule. Upside: I get to sleep in. Downside: Henry expresses his preference by stating, "I not love you, Mommy!" Thanks, kid. I don't take him at his word. I've heard it all before. I'm allowed downstairs after an hour or so. And he loves me again, too.
Sunday mid-morning: Tom heads out for his weekend jog. Henry and I make a batch of blue play-do. Once that gets boring we put on our coats and head down to the canal to feed the ducks. Good fun. We head home and bake up some cookies from the dough I made a few days ago. Playtime. Watch Jakers.
Sunday afternoon: Henry's getting antsy, so Tom decides to take him to the newly remodeled Canadian Museum of Nature to see the dinosaurs. It's a long walk, but they set out on foot. I stay home. Blah blah housework. Why am I such a slob? Why can't I keep a single surface in my home uncluttered? What is that crust on our good leather chair? Ahhhh! Blah blah laundry. Blah blah freelancing. Tom and Henry get home late in the afternoon. More playtime. Let him watch the hyper-annoying Go, Diego, Go while I get dinner ready. Chicken stir fry. Henry has spaghetti. He wants to hear "Baby Beluga" before bed. I cue it up and we dance. Bathtime, storytime and bedtime go very smoothly. Tom and settle in to watch our second favorite show, The Amazing Race (for anyone who cares, I'll do a recap tomorrow). Some blogging, then off to bed.

And that about does it.

Odds and ends

We had our first bit of snowfall on Sunday. It melted away by noon, but that gave us time to get out and make a few snowballs with the damp accumulation on the front porch. Henry definitely remembers snow, and he couldn't wait to get outside and play in it. I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot of time outdoors this winter, which is why I bought a down-filled coat last week. I may even have to get a pair of snowpants--soon.

The weekend before last I made a quick trip down to South Florida to see my friend Tammy. We had a nice visit. Unfortunately it rained the day we'd planned to go to the beach, but I did manage to dip my toes into the surf on the sunny morning before I flew home. I also went on a major shopping spree at Target. Sigh. I can't tell you how much I miss that store. There's nowhere up here where I can buy a decent, stylish pair of casual pants for $20. I constantly have sticker shock when I shop in Canada.

I plan to write a little piece later this week about Henry, in honour of his reaching the 2.5 year marker. I have lots of positive things to say. In the meantime, though, I just have to vent a bit and say that lately my darling boy has been a bit. . . BRATTY! Most of it is garden variety toddler behavior (is there a 2 year old anywhere who likes getting dressed?), but we're also experiencing more frequent outbusts and tantrums when Henry doesn't get his way. The funny thing is how subtle the line can be between normal toddler exuberance and what we characterize as misbehavior. I suppose it must be confusing to Henry. I mean, how does a young child learn to distinguish that a) throwing a ball is good fun, b) throwing all the pieces of a puzzle on the floor merits a stern look but is no big deal (in our house, at least), but c) throwing a hard plastic toy at Mommy is totally unacceptable? Isn't it all throwing? Of course not, but how to do you explain that to a toddler? Anyway, we're trying to figure out an effective way to teach/discipline him when he crosses that line. It's a challenge. Henry's old enough to understand that certain things are not allowed, but he doesn't yet have reliable impulse control. So I feel like I'm spending a lot of time saying, "No!" and "Don't do that" and otherwise policing his behavior. It's very tiring. We plan to start toilet training soon, and I haven't seen any signs to suggest that process will go smoothly, so between that, the discipline and our never-ending bedtime issues, I think we're going to be taking our lumps as parents over the next few months. Oh well--it's what we signed up for. And there's plenty of fun stuff to make up for the hard stuff. I swear.

Halloween Recap

Here's Henry's official take on Trick or Treating: "This is the best thing ever!" He actually said that. Several times. We went around the neighborhood with his friend Jensen, who was dressed as Bob The Builder. The neighbors were happy to see us and very generous with the candy treats. Henry collected way more junk than I was expecting. It's been sorted (I think he's too young to have suckers and gummy candies--we can't brush his teeth well enough) and hidden away, with acceptable items to be doled out slowly. Henry should get a reasonable cut of the loot after his work-from-home mom works through the stash.

The residents one block over went all out, closed off the street and threw a block party, with games, prizes and decorations. It was quite the scene. We went over for a few minutes, but after awhile the crowd of kids in scary costumes started bothering Henry and he got all clingy. Still, we had fun. Henry did his Old MacDonald dance for anyone who asked. Very cute.

Amazing Race: It's Official

The WINners (the Cho Bros) are the dumbest team ever. I don't know what else to say about a relatively competent team that freely chooses to STOP RACING and wait for all the slowass members of your "alliance" to finish a task before moving on. Sigh. All the good karma in the universe may not be enough to save these guys.

Anyone else think it was just a tad suspicious that Dave and Mary got non-eliminated again? Could it be that the producers use the non-elim option selectively? Impossible to prove, but I have my suspicions.

Beyond that, I'm enjoying watching the evil beauty queens work it, and the bickering couple are funny. But I still find myself with no one to cheer for.

Happy Halloween

From "Old MacDonald"

Amazing Race: Karma Chameleon

So, the WINners went a little overboard on my suggestion that it would be strategically smart to help the weaker teams stay in the race. I didn't mean to imply that they should risk knocking themselves out of the race to do it. I suspected they'd have ample time to catch up from their poor position in the first Road Block, so the risk in letting Dave and Mary go for the Fast Forward never seemed grave. But still--that showed some serious, um. . .class? Selflessness? Lack of competitiveness? Stupidity? However you look at it, I'd argue that the rest of the race has now become a grand experiment in Karma. Usually we westerners (especially those of us who enjoy stupid reality shows) think of karma as a big smack of comeuppance to those who act unethically. Will it work the other way? Will the WINners be rewarded for their generous action with excellent taxi luck, precise directions from the locals, and, eventually, a million dollars? That's the test. I'm looking forward to seeing good karma in action.

Next question: How did Peter and Sarah get so catastrophically lost? They weren't traveling far, and Kuwait City didn't look that big, crowded or confusing. They must have been traveling in circles for hours! Wouldn't you stop and get a better map, or better directions, or something? Was all that confusion just bad karma for claiming a disability-related health crisis to help them get on a flight? Could be. Anyway, while I was mildly surprised to see Peter and Sarah pull the old "First to Worst" and get eliminated at this point in the race, I was not at all surprised that they'd already broken up by the time Phil delivered the bad news. I was very surprised that Sarah exercised enough restraint to refrain from calling Peter an asshole on national television. Because clearly that's what she thinks of him, and clearly, that's pretty much what he is. I found them strange as individuals and icky as a couple, so I won't miss them.

Sunday conversations

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Henry's playing with his train set. For fun I say, "Here's what my horoscope says, Henry", and read it out loud. His reply:

"This is what my horseybook says: 'Go to the farm, Mr. Horsey!'"

Good advice, that.

Trial and Hairror

I don't have a regular hairstylist in Ottawa. This is a problem. Over the past year I've been playing the haircut equivalent of Russian Roulette, booking appointments at random salons based on little more than a name or decor that pleases me. It worked out okay for awhile. I didn't meet "the one," a stylist I wanted to commit to long-term, but I didn't get butchered, either. Well, my luck was bound to run out eventually. A few weeks ago I spun the cylinder and booked an appointment at a certain salon because they have a nice website. The loaded chamber locked in and Bam! I walked out of the place with a haircut that looks and feels like an ill-fitting wig.

To the untrained eye, the current mess probably doesn't look that much different from my usual style (such that it is), but to me, it's all wrong. It's choppy where it should be blendy, blendy where it should be choppy. It zigs where it should zag, and puffs in awkward places. It's as if I'd instructed the hairdresser to locate and emphasize every little cowlick that curses my mangy mane, and throw in elements of a classic bowl cut while she was at it. Honestly, I think I could have gotten a better result if I'd shaved my head and stuck clumps of hair back to my scalp with double-sided tape.

So now I'm trying to decide if I should just try to live with it for awhile, or get most of it cut off and start all over again. Sigh. The aspirations I have for my hair are so modest. I know better than to hand the hairstylist a cover shot of Reece Witherspoon and expect to walk out of the salon looking like a Hollywood starlet. No, all I want is to grow my hair long enough so I can have the quasi-style every other mom in my area has: shoulder length with wispy bangs, pulled back in a pony tail 85% of the time. Is that too much to ask? Maybe by this time next year, I'll have it worked out. In the meantime, I'm strangely grateful that hat season is almost upon us here in the Great White North. No one expects you to have a hairstyle in January.

And no, I'm not posting a picture.

Amazing Race: A Steve Irwin tribute gone terribly dull

Seriously--who knew that wrestling an alligator or crocodile or whatever that reptile was could be so tame? The detours in this ep were pretty meh, but I thought all the travel was great, especially everyone's various, ever-changing flight itineraries. Also, while I know the Junkies are, like, ex-junkies, I never thought we'd hear about their former exploits in such vivid detail. It's not every day that you turn on the TV at 8 p.m. and hear some guy talking about his days shooting heroin in the gutter. Sigh. Family hour takes yet another hit (Pun not intended, but recognized).

I'm beginning to think that "Ivy League Grads" Erwin and Godwin are one of the dumbest teams this show has ever seen. Well, maybe not the dumbest, but they sure do lack common sense. First, there was their brilliant decision in the opening leg to shoot their fellow racers with water guns. . . in the airport. Is it just me, or are airport security types a bit touchy about guns--even plastic guns--these days? I bet if it wasn't for the camera crew they would have been bounced out of Sea-Tac on their asses. And this week we witness another boneheaded stunt, namely the hi-larious fake phone gag. Yes, it was funny to watch creepy Peter squirm when he overheard the brothers "booking" tickets with the phone. Funny until Peter had a brainflash and borrowed a real cell phone to book actual plane tickets. Now that was funny. So, smooth move, WINners. Way to stay ahead of the competition. From now on, their official motto is, "Joke's on us!"

Besides their backfiring practical jokes, the WINners missed an opportunity to bring some strategy to a game where it's hard to do much in terms of manipulating your opponents in a way that helps you gain an advantage (Whatever you do, you still have to beat them to the finish line). That said, I think the WINners had a chance to hurt a strong team by helping the two weakest teams. The Hillbillies and the Moms are not serious threats to win. The other remaining teams have a decent shot at it, and the WINners are looking pretty middle-of-the-pack within this group. So they should do what they can to keep the weak links in the race long enough to knock out a couple strong teams.* Thinning the heard, if you will. Sharing flight info with the weak links would be a great place to start such a strategy. Sharing that same information with teams that are a legit threat to beat you in any given leg is a quick (and stupid) way to finish your strategy. In short--start using your so-called brains, boys. You're likable enough guys, but I have a hard time rooting for stupid players.

As for the rest of the race, too bad the Hillbillies missed a golden opportunity to put the Junkies behind the 8-ball (pun totally intended this time). If only they'd done the alligator thingy! Oh well. I think the new rules for a non-elimination last place finish is an improvement over the "lose your money and your stuff" rule that never seemed like much of a setback. The penalty is strong enough to create urgency and tension, but not so bad that it will be impossible to overcome. At least that's how I hope it works. I always enjoy the agonizing countdown as someone waits out a finish line penalty.

*Yes, I know it was a non-elimination leg, so even if ErWIN and GodWIN hadn't shared information with the Beauty Queens, Sarah and Creepy Peter nothing would have come of it, but the principle still holds true: Help people who can't hurt you. Leave everyone else to their own devices!

Things that go "arf" in the night

We were awoken at 6 a.m. this morning by the sound of barking. Well, not barking exactly--it was Henry/Puddles (his cuddle toy) making barking noises. Arf arf arf arf arf. I had to laugh. Not because of the barking per se, which was funny enough. No, I laughed because, yet again, my parenting skills had been overmatched by my child's ingenuity and emerging language skills.

Here's the back story: Over the last few nights we suspect that Henry's been having dreams about scarecrows. Not quite nightmares, because he doesn't wake up crying or scared, but he's definitely got scarecrows on the brain. The woman across the street recently constructed an autumn display featuring a couple of craft-store scarecrows, and Henry is fascinated with them. Every night before bath he asks us to take him across the street to see the scarecrows. He shines his flashlight on them for a minute or so, then we go home and get ready for bed.

Perhaps not coincidentally, we've endured a lot of night waking over the past week (What, you mean shining a flashlight in the face of a creepy inanimate object right before bed might be unsettling for your toddler? --ed.). The night before last, Henry was awake from 3:30 to 5 a.m., and no amount of cuddling or back rubs could get him to close his eyes. As you may imagine, this is crazy-making for us. So when we were putting him to bed last night, I asked Henry why he woke up the night before. I didn't expect real answers, but he said, "There are scarecrows coming into my room." Ah-ha. And here's where the A+ parenting kicks in.

"Sweetie, there are no scarecrows in your room. The friendly scarecrows stay outside." Then I played my brilliant trump card: "If the scarecrows do come into your room, Puddles will start barking. If Puddles (the toy dog he sleeps with, remember) isn't barking, that means there are no scarecrows to worry about." Slam. Dunk. Puddles can't bark. There will be no barking. Henry will be reassured that there are no scarecrows in his room. Brilliant. I was so proud of my grownup powers of reasoning and trickery. The problem is licked, I thought.

Then it was 6 a.m. The sun broke weakly over the horizon. And "Puddles" started barking a greeting to the scarecrows in Henry's room. Arf arf arf arf arf. Imagination trumps reason, and it was yet another very early start to our day.

We're not going to visit the scarecrows tonight.

Yes, I'm still watching The Amazing Race

. . . and enjoying it a lot, I must say. I'm glad the producers were able to read my reviews of last season and take steps to address my complaints about how candyass easy the race had become. No more! This crop of teams is really being put through the grinder physically. Either the dreaded "ascender" or a detour involving mad paddling on open water would be a lot for one day. Doing both back-to-back looked grueling. I wasn't surprised to see people crying from exhaustion at the end of it. And the whole, "navigate your way through a foreign country" element has been ramped back up. Hopefully we're done with last season's "Race as Guided Tour" method of herding everyone onto staggered charter buses whenever they had to go overland. As long as they keep it up with the suspect local transportation, Soviet-era pseudovehicles, and cab drivers of wildly varying quality, I'll be happy.

Since the race itself has been so fun to watch, and the locales so stunning, I'm just starting to get a handle on the racers. And I suspect the teams I've become the most attached to are pretty much doomed, especially if the race's current intensity is maintained. So, enjoy them while they last:

David and Mary: I like them. I see why the casting director looked beyond their bad teeth and put them on the show. They have depth (by reality show standards), heart, and open minds. Most importantly, they don't hesitate to turn the bicker up to 11 when things get even moderately tough. I hope they can stick around for a few more weeks.
Dustin and Kandice: Is Dustin her real name? Why would you give your daughter such a blatantly masculine name? Why not Butch? Arnold? Come to think of it, I once met a woman named Douglas. It's weird. I'll let it go, however, because I like watching scheming, sneaky, line-cutting beauty queens at work. All that, and they threw in the waterworks of shame when they messed up the detour and all seemed lost. Pure gold.
Lyn and Karlyn: Are they doing it for their kids? I thought I heard one of them mention that they're doing it all for their kids, but I could be wrong.
Peter and Sarah: Peter's watching from home, thinking, "Dammit, I got villain editing. I was going for inspirational, and they stuck me with the villain editing. Me! No fair!" And Sarah's watching from home, thinking, "I can't believe I ever dated that tool. Wow--am I crying again?"

Yep, it doesn't look good for these teams. Just a few more detours requiring upper body strength, the weak will fall away, and we'll be watching the two teams of young, strong guys battle it out for the money, along with that rageaholic young guy who'll be dragging his rageaholic girlfriend across the finish line while she calls him names.

Yep, I bet Tyler and James are already planning the bender that's going to start about 7 minutes after they find a payday loan store in Midtown that will cash a giant check for a million dollars.

Busy week, beautiful weekend

A week ago today I was on my way home from a 72-hour round trip to Virginia. I drove the whole way there and back by myself. It was tiring, but in a weird way I actually enjoy long road trips. Lord knows I've done enough of them in my life. In fact, 12 hours in a single day is pretty tame. Madison, WI to New Orleans was a killer. Madison to Columbia, SC was agony, especially since my traveling companions were dull. Did the same trip a year later with a different crew and had a blast. I have unhappy memories of a trip from Madison to Lawrence, KS, which was a measly 9 hours but was undertaken in a Ford Aspire, one of those old school tin shitbox economy cars with aerodynamics so poor you can't hear the tape deck from the back seat, which was so butt-numbingly uncomfortable I could only conclude that it was constructed out of flour sacks and packing peanuts swept up from the Ford factory floor. Those are the kinds of trips the college ultimate season throws at you. I won't even get into the numerous "let's drive to Los Angeles!" family vacation extravaganzas I enjoyed as a child. You get the idea.

ANYWAY, 24 hours of driving in three days was enough to leave even a road warrior like myself pretty burned out for a busy week of stuff. None of it terribly significant, just lots of it. Hence no posts. We're back on track now, enjoying a long weekend (yes, Canadian Thanksgiving is here again) of absolutely perfect fall weather. Today we ventured out to Gatineau Park for a nature walk. The sun was shining, trees were in full autumn color, and the temperature made it near 70 degrees. Henry loved following the trail and venturing of the path to explore rock formations and frolic in the leaves. Photos here.

From the fashion files

I've never been one to pay too much attention to fashion. And the last year I've experienced an almost complete sartorial collapse as my functional wardrobe has been reduced to three pairs of elastic waist yoga pants, several colorful t-shirts, a fleece hoodie and some flip-flops. So really, I'm not terribly qualified to comment on the latest trends. But for those rare occasions when I venture out of the house for something other than a toddler music class or ultimate game, I do like to have a nice pair of jeans. Jeans with a little flair. Maybe a designer label. Something that makes me feel like I haven't completely capitulated to the forces of darkness otherwise known as "mom clothes." For it to all come together, I also have to believe that the jeans look good on me. In other words, they have have to pass the test. You know the one--the test, usually in the form of a simple question, that produces nagging anxiety in women and sweaty, full-bodied panic in any man who has ever given the wrong answer to his wife or girlfriend, sister or mother. That question is, "Does my butt look big in these?" And you always want "Of course not!" to be a plausible answer.

So I'm a little confused about the latest trend in fashion denim: Skinny Jeans. Apparently they're popular among strung out models and actresses with questionable eating habits, plus scrawny male rock stars going for the early 70s East Village junkie look. I haven't seen anyone around here wearing them (let's face it, Ottawa isn't a fashion-forward kind of town), so I'd only be vaguely aware of this trend if I hadn't tried a pair on recently. It was an accident. On the rack, the skinnies looked no different than normal jeans. In fact, I was a little confused when I tried to pull them up and found I could barely work the pants up to my knees (after a lifetime spent playing sports involving kicking and sprinting, my gams have an inconvenient attribute called "muscles," and the circumference of my calves is beyond that allowed by the new skinny cut). After much squirming and effort I somehow managed to get the jeans over my hips and did the requisite over-the-shoulder check. At which point I promptly burst out laughing. Man, did those pants ever make my butt look big. No question about it. I haven't seen a more catastrophically unflattering article of clothing on my body since, in a fit of apparent masochism, I tried on a low-rise hipster bikini at J. Crew.

According to the fashion hacks, however, my eyes deceive me. Skinny jeans look good on everybody! Yes--they make the short look tall! The flabby look fabby! That somehow, by some strange alchemy, wearing pants with severely tapered ankles and an unforgiving cut through the thighs will not AT ALL make your bottom half look like an inverted pear. Oh no--you go get some, girl! And on the off-chance a tapered ankle doesn't look totally fabulous on you, well, you can cram that overstuffed shishkebob you call a leg into some knee-high boots. Problem solved!

Seriously folks. This style makes Kate Moss look like she has hips (kind of). What do you think it does to the rest of us?

Amazing Race: Stuck in the muck

Dude, is it just me, or is the constant "dude" usage getting really old and annoying? One of the guys kept saying it on last night's episode. It made me feel like I was back in 2003. That little irritant aside, I think that was one of the best episodes's we've seen in awhile. After the initial bunch-up, the teams were given plenty of opportunity to succeed or fail on their own merits. None of the tasks gave a big advantage to the physically stronger teams. Both the detour tasks required patience and some element of skill. And they had to navigate crappy vehicles through very foreign territory (although, was anyone else surprised at how many English speakers they found in Outer Mongolia? Who knew?). And any time you get to see people getting dragged by horses and sinking a jeep in mud up to its wheel well, you know you're witnessing Good Television. The ending was anticlimactic, but that didn't detract from an otherwise strong show.

After two episodes, Peter has emerged as my designated Most Annoying Contestant and Creepiest Creep. The guy seems to have cobbled together a personality from "Successories" slogans. And he seems less like a boyfrend to Sarah than a nightmare high school sports coach or something. Ick. And double-ick for the way they're using her disability as some kind of cheap fundraising gag. Step right up and see the crippled lady run on her bionic ski pole! Sheesh. The Beauty Queens are looking surprisingly strong (misplacing that giant yak hat was just a bit of bad luck). Ditto Duke and Lauren. I still think the Junkie Models will win it all, but it's shaping up to be a very competitive and well-executed season.

Amazing Race: Junkie Models 1, Religious Diversity 0

I have a good feeling about the new season of The Amazing Race after watching the premier on Sunday. China! Challenging challenges! Woo-hoo! Besides the usual cast of stock characters ("The Attractive Bickering Couple," "The Attractive Male Models," "The Attractive Beauty Queens," "The Flaming Gay Guys," the producers dipped deep into the American melting pot and came up with some intriguing teams. Too bad the most provocative pick, the devout Muslims, got canned before they even reached the first pit stop. I can't imagine a team that had to stop racing five times a day to pray had much of a long-term future in the game, but it would have been interesting to have Bilal and Sa'eed stick around for a few more episodes. I mean, how often do you get to see devout Muslims a) on TV b) who are otherwise regular guys, b) competing in a silly reality show? That would be rarely, never and never. Same goes for Vipul and Arti, the Indo-American couple who were eliminated at the pit stop. So, diversity took a serious hit on the first leg, but at least the show tried.

But I think the most surprising casting choice was the Kentucky coal miner and his wife. Why? You just don't see people that unattractive on TV very often, unless the show is "COPS," and then their bad teeth and hair are all pixelated and stuff. Seriously--there are no ugly people on TV anymore. We live in an era where on TV, a "desperate housewife" is an aging, anorexic starlet with a face so heavily botoxed she can barely deliver her lines. So it's a shock to see a couple of people you'd find in line at Wal-Mart competing against the Miss Californias and Cheerleaders and Male Models that always show up on a reality show. That said, I think this Mary woman is the genuine article when it comes to desperate housewives. And she and David sure weren't shy about the bickering.

Beyond that, it's a blur. We've got our early round elimination fodder. The junkie models look good to win the whole thing, provided they don't fall off the wagon in some Thai opium den. They're young, athletic guys, and they're not stone stupid. (Ditto Erwin and Godwin, although they didn't impress in the smarts department.) That combination is usually good for a Top 3 finish on this show, if not the championship.

The winners of TAR Season 5, Chip and Kim, have a website with audio recaps of each episode. Chip was one of the show's most personable and amusing contestants, so his commentary is worth listening to. He thinks it's unfair for teams of young, athletic guys to compete against the co-ed and all-female teams. Check it out here: chipandkim.tv

Feeling gravity's pull

Yesterday we spent the afternoon at our home away from home, CHEO, after Henry took an unfortunate leap off the staircase and faceplanted on the radiator, leaving him with a bloody, swollen nose. Considering what happened, the damage he did to himself was quite minimal, an if it had been a weekday we probably would have just taken him to the doctor rather than the emergency room. But we wanted to be sure he was fine. Of course, since he obviously wasn't hurt badly, we ended up waiting for almost four hours to see a doctor. What a way to spend one of the few warm, sunny Saturdays we've had in the past few weeks. When it was all over, Henry said, "I had fun at the hospital." Great. There goes the effectiveness of our, "if you keep doing [whatever dangerous stunt he's pulling at the moment], you're going to hurt yourself and we'll have to go to the hospital" threat. We have so few weapons. . .

On a happier note, my parents arrived yesterday for a 10-day visit. We're about to head out to the Farmer's Market at Lansdowne Park. Fun times.

Toddler insomnia

Is there such a thing? I think Henry has it. Over the past couple of months it seems like Henry's pushed his bedtime back later and later into the evening, with no corresponding change in the time he wakes up (i.e., the crack of dawn). And he has nights where he shows no signs of being tired when it's our bedtime! Last night I came home from my fall league ultimate game around 10 p.m., and Henry was wide awake, hollering for us to come get him out of his crib. Even after I spent almost 15 minutes rubbing his back, he still wouldn't fall asleep. As soon as I left the room, he was standing up and crying the newish, forced toddler cry he turns on and off like a pro to express his dissatisfaction. Finally we gave up and let him sleep in our bed, which has been happening more and more over the past few weeks. It's quite a regression. Henry slept in our bed until he was about a year old, but after that he prefered his crib. We'd gotten used to having Henry in his own bed, asleep, by 7:30. It gave us a nice stretch of evening for working and relaxing. Now we're lucky to have him asleep by 9:30. It's putting a cramp in my freelancing schedule. Tough to know what to do. We can't just ignore him if he's throwing a tantrum in his crib because a couple weeks ago he climbed out of the thing and crashed to the ground. And trying to force the issue by putting him to bed when he's obviously not tired doesn't work. Hopefully the dark evenings of fall will nudge his Circadian rhythms back into harmony with our preferred schedule.

Also, the other day some kid at the park bit Henry while they were wrestling for control of his Muck toy. Henry was wearing a thick fleece hoodie, so the bite didn't break the skin, but it left a mark that's persisted for days. The kid's parent reacted appropriately, so there was no extra drama. I guess we'll just stay away from that kid from now on.

School days begin

After two sessions, I think it's safe to say that preschool is a hit. Henry loves all the toys and activities. He has a great time playing with his pal Jensen. He doesn't cry when he gets dropped off, and he doesn't want to leave when we pick him up. Today Tom asked him if he had fun, and Henry replied, "I love school!"

If only it didn't start at 8 am. . .

Sing a happy song

Henry's latest linguistic feat: singing. Last week he burst into a stirring rendition of "Happy Birthday" when someone mentioned cake. He's also working on the ABCs, "Trot, Old Joe," and "My Lady Wind" from his music class CDs. Very funny.

Other developments: He likes to pretend we're a family of bears. Or rather, he likes to pretend that Tom and I are bears, and that he's a honeybee who has to hide from us. When we find him he stings us with his finger. Even when we're not playing the game he calls Tom "Daddy Bear." And when we're not bears, he's started calling us by our first names. It's quite hilarious to enter the room and hear Henry say to me, "Hi Susan!", or ask "Where's Tom?"

On the negative side, Henry's been throwing tantrums when he doesn't get his way. They vary a lot in duration and intensity, but all the acting up is stressful to deal with.

Preschool starts next week. We visited the classroom yesterday and it went very well. Henry was having so much fun playing with all the stuff that he didn't want to leave. Hopefully he'll enjoy it just as much when Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear aren't there.

Coffee shop is open

The neighbourhood finally has its much longed for coffee shop. Cuppedia opened a few weeks ago on Main Street, about a 5 minute walk from our house. It's a very nice space. Unfortunately they do not offer wireless Internet yet, so I can't go there to work. But it's nice to have a place to hang out. I hope it's successful. We need something like it around here.

Summer League Champions!

I spent the weekend playing in the Ottawa Ultimate League championships. I played in two leagues this summer: women's and co-ed. Ottawa's co-ed ultimate league is so huge that each night is a different division, and each division is subdivided into tiers. And then they run this stupid ladder system that's supposed to ensure you're always evenly matched against your opponent, but in reality ensures that you keep playing the same small number of teams over and over. So even though the co-ed league on Tuesdays has 78 teams (!), my team only played 10 of them.

ANYWAY, we were 4th at the end of the regular season. And a distant 4th, I'd say, since we'd been pretty much pummeled by the teams ahead of us. So I really wasn't thinking this would be a championship season. But today the gods of ultimate brought wind and rain, exactly the equalizers our aging, speed-challenged team needed for a semi-final matchup against the very confident top seed. I won't bore you with a dissertation on how weather conditions radically affect ultimate and the kinds of strategic adjustments that should be made in response. I'll just say that our high-flying opponents did not make the necessary adjustments, and we did. End result: We crushed them. It was devastating. 13-4 or something? I'm still not sure what happened. Our opponent played some shiteous ultimate, that's for sure. And we were pretty good, all things considered.

So, the underdogs advanced to the finals against another team that thought we'd be on the receiving end of a serious pasting. And the exact same things happened. We continued to play smart. Our opponent didn't adjust to the conditions or our defense, and we won by a comfortable 15-9 margin. Woo-hoo! All hail the 7 Deadly Spins, Tuesday Night Tier 1 League Champions.

It felt very good to win not just because it seemed so unlikely given previous results, but also because I have lost an ungodly number of championship games in my career. Seriously, my record is ugly. So even though I wasn't highly invested in this team or the results of the season, I was very happy not to lose yet another final. Also, I had a great day on the field, scoring a ton of goals, throwing a few more, and making a couple plays on D. So, yay me!

Women's league playoffs was Saturday. In contrast to today, it was very hot and sunny. My team lost by 1 point in the semis and won by 1 point in the consolation final. Good enough for 3rd place. I can live with that. At least we didn't lose in the final. And it was nice to end the season with a comeback win.

That's my dispatch from the narrow world of the fringe sport I play. I'm off to treat my blood blisters. . .

My professional blogging debut

Chris started up a consumer electronics blog on the Amazon.com site, and I'm going to be contributing on a regular basis. My first post went up yesterday.

This blogging thing is getting away from me

The posts I write in my head just aren't making it online these days. I've gotta catch up. So, here we go:

Vancouver, over and out

Fun fun fun. Visits from Chris & Stacey (read their account of our visit here--scroll down) and Yvonne & Alec, all from Seattle. Alec made a half-day trip up to see us and dine at Vij's, a truly amazing Indian restaurant. Yvonne stayed an extra day, and we shared another great meal at Feenie's, the bistro attached to celebrity chef Rob Feenie's Lumiere restaurant. The entrees were good, but the desserts were sublime. I've never before tasted anything as perfect as the caramel sauce on the apple tart we shared. Great times hanging out with my old friends and their new families. Jolie's 6-year-old daughter, Tallon, immediately took on the big sister role with Henry and cared for him during several park trips and dinner out at Martini's, my favorite pizza joint. Henry and Elly, Mark and Kimka's 3-year-old, had a crazy dance party together while the grownups ate dessert. Several visits with cousin Elaine and Anne & Norris in Richmond. Henry loved the gravel paths in Anne's garden.

And yes, three days in Kelowna. So it was a very busy two weeks. It was nice to pretend that was our real life, but the fact that the dumpy house we stayed in was worth about $900K tempered our fantasies about packing up and moving. Ottawa may be a little dull, but hey--it's affordable!

Now, back to real life, and more frequent blogging.

West coast weeks

Our two weeks in Vancouver was terrific--a total success in every way. Tom discovered some material in the UBC archives that spurred ideas for his next big research project. Henry and I had a blast trucking around town to the numerous kid-friendly activities the city offers. I got to reconnect with my old friends and family. And Henry and I even threw in a side trip to Kelowna. If I hadn't been so busy I would have recapped our adventures as we were going along, but I decided to live my time there rather than write about it. But for posterity's sake, I'll be writing up the highlights and posting them in pieces over the next few days. Here's the first bite:

Beaches and parks

Having a small child to entertain really forces you to get out and do stuff. When I lived in Vancouver I never went to Stanley Park or Kits Beach. Just wasn't part of my routine. So I almost felt like I was discovering these places for the first time when I visited them with Henry. At Stanley Park we rode the miniature train, spent a long time in the children's farmyard, and had fish and chips by Lumberman's Arch, where there were plenty of seagulls to chase. Kits Beach at low tide is ideal for a little guy like Henry, who's not crazy about the water but loves mucking around in the sand. When the sun's out, Vancouver really is a gorgeous place.

Stanley Park photos
Kits Beach photos

Vancouver photos

We're back, and I'm ready to start blogging again. Expect a recap of our fantastic Vancouver trip soon. The photos are up now.

A travel miracle

Hello from Vancouver. Yes, we're on the road again. Tom has a grant to do research at the UBC library and Henry and I decided to tag along. So on Saturday we headed to the Ottawa airport for yet another cross-continental flight. Oh, but what a flight this turned out to be. Through a series of events so improbable in these days of airline-induced misery you may doubt the authenticity of my tale, we won the travel lottery. I assure you that what you are about to read is true. It really happened. To us. Us!

The first leg of our trip (Ottawa to Winnipeg) was full. So full, in fact, that the check-in agent put each of us in different rows because there were no adjoining seats available. Interesting. "Hmmm--Which of these unsuspecting people milling around the gate will end up sitting next to Henry while Tom and I are relaxing in another part of the plane," I thought to myself. "I hope he or she likes to colour, and knows to make motorcycle noises when Henry straddles the arm rest, and isn't wearing clothing they care about." But I never got to see the lucky winner because we were paged soon after we got to the gate. The agent wanted to know if we'd be willing to give up our seats on the overcrowded Ottawa-Winnipeg flight and instead take the Ottawa-Vancouver direct flight that was leaving at the same time. We reluctantly agreed to shave 2.5 hours traveling time and a stopover from our trip. And when we found our seats on the new plane, we realized that not only had we been bumped up from a two-leg flight to a direct flight, we'd also been bumped up from coach to Executive Class (I guess the airline figured they owed us a little something extra because they had deprived us of our chance to see the Winnipeg airport, which by all accounts is lovely in the summer months.)

No other way to put it: a travel miracle. Four giant seats all to ourselves. So much leg room that Henry couldn't reach the seat in front of him to kick it repeatedly. Fresh fruit plate. Omelet and sausage breakfast. Bottomless coffee. And warm cookies and ice cream for snack. Sigh. We're ruined for coach forever.

So, great start to our trip. We'll be here for two weeks. I'm looking forward to spending time with old friends and family and seeing my old haunts. Well, I probably won't take Henry to the Ivanhoe, but there's other stuff we can do.

France, Part II: Issepts and environs

After three days in Paris (I wish we'd had at least one more) we headed south to meet up with our friends Jacob, Emily and Lev for a week in the Lot valley/Quercy region of Southwest France. Getting there required almost seven hours in a crowded, hot, stuffy, smelly, second-class rail car. Usually I enjoy riding the train, but in this case I was about ready to dive through the locked window when we finally pulled into Figeac. I could go on, but I'll leave it at this: in the summer months, tightly enclosed spaces housing individuals with questionable personal hygiene habits really should be air conditioned.

With that particular bit of travel hell out of the way, we rented a car and drove up to our sweet gite in the hamlet of Issepts. The gite (which I assume is French for "vacation house") was a big, fully renovated stone farmhouse in the rolling hills of the French countryside. Beautiful, and remarkably cheap. Our share of the one-week rental ran us about the same as what we paid for one night in a Paris hotel, so the gite seemed like a fantastic deal indeed. There was a huge yard with a slide that Henry and Lev loved, and the farmer next door parked his tractor right by road. Henry visited the tractor every day and even got to sit in the driver's seat once, so it was pretty much paradise for him.

It was pretty much paradise for us, too. Combine a beautiful setting with good friends, daily servings of the wonderful local cheeses, nice wine priced around 3 euros a bottle, crusty bread and ample chocolate, and you've got an ideal family vacation. Having a home base and a car let us shift our travels onto Toddler Time, and we were able to strike a nice balance between seeing the local sights and mellowing out at the house. (Of course for Jacob the cross-country coach, "mellowing out" includes 90 minute runs in the afternoon heat, return route unclear. Somehow he induced Tom to come with him more than once. I stuck with rosee in the shade.) Jacob's parents and a group of their friends were staying at an even nicer gite nearby, so we shared several meals with them and made use of the pool at their place.

There's not much to Issepts, but drive 45 minutes in any direction and you'll encounter plenty to see and do. Some of the highlights:

• Rocamador: A medieval village and cathedral built into a cliff face. Stunning views, lots of staircases. Besides the historical sites, the town is quite the tourist trap. We didn't go to the "Foret des Singes" (monkey forest), but we were tempted. Rocamador is also the name of a particularly delicious goat cheese made in the region.
• Peche Merle: A spectacular limestone cave featuring a series of pre-historic paintings. The only way to gain entry to the cave is to take a guided tour, which was less than ideal for us in two key ways. First, it was in French, and as it became painfully clear to me on this trip, I cannot understand spoken French. At. All. Second, the tour lasted almost an hour, and we couldn't leave the cave until it was over. That was the real problem. Keeping Henry in check for that length of time is no small feat, and he was in borderline tantrum mode by the time they let us out. Still, it's a remarkable site and I'm glad we went.
• Cahors and Figeac: These are two of the larger towns in the area, both featuring Medieval squares. Market day in Cahors was fun--lots of great produce. Our visit to Figeac for dinner one night almost ended in disaster when a wrong turn forced us to drive down a medieval alley so narrow we had bare inches of clearance from the stone walls on both sides of the car. If we had gotten stuck the only way out would have been to smash the windshield and crawl through. Luckily Tom and Jacob were able to maneuver their respective cars to safety. The moral of the story: Park and walk. If you're in a place with a medieval road system, park and walk.

Unfortunately I ran low on memory for my digital camera soon after we left Paris, so most of my photos from these day trips are on as-yet-undeveloped film. We thoroughly enjoyed our time in the region, and if it wasn't so far away we'd already be signed up to do it again next year. It's a great place for a vacation.

France, Part 1: Paris avec le petit garcon

The only truly useful advice one could give about intercontinental travel with a two-year-old is, “don’t do it.” Seriously—when your beloved child is of an age when an afternoon outing to the park requires the logistical acumen of General Patton, you’d have to be an idiot (or simply childless) to think that the daylong flights, sightseeing expeditions in unfamiliar territory and steady stream of new foods that constitute a big trip won’t push your patience and your kid’s temper to the brink of Total System Failure. There were definitely moments when Tom and I wondered what the hell we were thinking when we decided to haul Henry across the Atlantic so we could enjoy France. But there were many more moments when we had a lot of fun. And part of the fun was thinking, “man—I can’t believe we’re doing this! Who brings their 2-year-old to Paris? We soooo crazazzy!” Really, it was great.

That said, traveling with Henry meant we had to make a lot of compromises about the kinds of things we could see and do, especially in Paris. For example, we did not go to a single museum or gallery. I never stepped foot in a women’s boutique of any kind. There was no go-for-broke, pay-it-off-in-monthly-installments 5-course meal at a Michelin starred restaurant. And we saw only a small portion of the city because the massive, maze-like Metro stations were a nightmare to deal with while wrangling Henry (current motto: “No help!). And when on foot, we had to make frequent stops so Henry could chase pigeons, follow a new pattern in the brick walkway, or jump on a storm drain. (I must say, there are a lot of pigeons in Paris. Big ones. Also, many, many storm drains. Not sure if I’d have noticed if it wasn’t for Henry. Take that, Louvre!)

Basically, serendipity kept us sane. A few times we decided to see something specific and actually made it there (Le Jardin de Luxembourg, the Eiffel Tower), but mostly we simply set out from our hotel in the Les Halles district with a vague goal to go here or there and then just let the day unwind as it would. After all, it’s not like you have to dig deep to find ways to entertain yourself in Paris. When we got tired we’d hit a café where Henry sipped “chocolat chaud pas de chaud” (the closest approximation we could get to chocolate milk) while Tom and I had wine and cheese. I was always happy to eat the leftovers when Henry didn’t finish his chocolatine pastry. And every bistro we entered reacted like it was perfectly normal to bring a small child into the establishment. No fawning over-attention, no looks of horror and dread, even when we went for sushi at 11 p.m. (We were pretty jet-lagged the first few days. And, weirdly enough, we had sushi twice in Paris. It was really good).

I could go through what we did point by point, but I think it's better just to say we enjoyed being in the city, eating good food, drinking nice (and cheap!) wine and doing what we could do, given our less-than-flexible travelling companion. Henry had fun, too, but at least once a day he’d start chanting, “home, home, home, home.” It was a little humbling. Kids just don’t like being taken out of their element, even if it does mean they get to eat chocolate buns for breakfast and ride a merry-go-round first thing every morning (there was one right by our hotel). The country was more enjoyable for him. I’ll post something about that within a few days.

France photos

Now posted. Enjoy.

Back home

We returned from our excellent adventure in France yesterday. It's going to take me awhile to write up an account of our trip, and in the meantime I have to do things like buy groceries, unpack and relax a bit. So, no ETA on the writeup. But here's a teaser photo of the three of us cruising the Seine to keep you interested.

Happy Father's Day

See more photos from our fun morning at Brewer Park here.

Eyes: before and after

Pre- and post-op photos. The one on the bottom was taken this morning. I can tell that he's still not using his eyes together, so the left one still drifts a little bit, but as you can see from these pictures, the surgery made a big improvement.

Block party

Today we found ourselves in the middle of "The Main Event," a neighbourhood-wide yard sale with a party tacked on at the end. The annual neighborhood yard sale concept seems to be big in Ottawa. A few weeks ago the Glebe hosted one, and I've seen signs for others. Yard sales really aren't my thing, but it was fun to walk around today and chat with the people trying to pawn off their old junk on others (see, I told you yard sales aren't my thing). The party was a good time because there was a team of giant horses and free wagon rides. Given Henry's current obsession with all things farm, the wagon ride was a big hit. We went twice, and watched the horses trot by our house several times after that.

In the meantime, we're getting ready for our big trip to France! Yes, Henry is coming with. We have no idea what to expect in traveling to a foreign country with a two year-old, but we do have a general sense of what Henry can so tolerate in a day, so we're setting our expectations low when it comes to sightseeing. I do have high expectations for wine and cheese consumption, however, since even in the worst-case toddler scenario we can still enjoy those goodies in the hotel room. Anything else we do is a bonus, as far as I'm concerned. I won't be blogging while we're away, but I'll post a full report when we get back.

Oh yes--Henry's eyes. The blood's cleared up and they look good. Definitely a huge improvement. I'm trying to get a good picture to post of the "after", but it's hard to catch him standing still these days!

Eye update: Thumbs up from the doctor

The ophthalmologist is pleased with Henry's new eye alignment. He still has a lot of blood in his eyeballs and some mild swelling around his eyelids, so I find it difficult to tell how well-centered they are. But they do look at least a bit better. I haven't seen any of the dramatic eye turns he used to have all the time when he tried to focus. So, things are looking good. Well, not literally looking good. Bloody eyeballs are a tad disturbing, after all. Once they clear up, I'll post a picture.

Our day at the hospital

I'm happy to report that everything went smoothly with Henry's surgery. We were at CHEO for about 5 hours, and the whole thing on schedule, with plenty of communication along the way. Tom and I were very surprised by how compliant Henry was throughout the pre-op routine, but the staff are pros who know how to handle kids. The nurse taking his vitals bribed him with Bob The Builder and Blue's Clues stickers (as soon as she asked him if he wanted stickers when he was done, he practically put the blood pressure cuff on himself). The waiting area was stocked with toys, and two volunteers set up a painting and colouring craft station to keep the kids busy. It was almost better than playgroup. Henry was given a "pre-med" sedative before we handed him off to the doctors, so he was mellow like jello when the took him away. So far, so good.

The surgery itself was quick and routine--about 45 minutes. The real fun began once Henry came out of surgery and was coming off the anesthesia. That was a good hour of him shrieking, thrashing around and tearing at his IV in a kind of half-awake, half-drugged state as Tom and I took turns wrangling him. Once he calmed down he slept for an hour or two in the recovery room, had his vitals checked one last time, and was quiet for the drive home. We spoiled him with lots of chocolate milk (the only thing he would consume today) and TV to keep him calm. He had another long nap in the afternoon, but by bedtime he was back to normal.

As for the results, it's too early to tell. Both eyes are quite bloodshot in the corners and he's blinking a lot, so I haven't been able to get a good look at how the eyes are aligning. We have a follow-up appointment with the ophthalmologist tomorrow, so we'll have a better assessment then.

Eye update

Henry is having strabismus surgery tomorrow at CHEO. The doctor will adjust the muscles in both eyes in order to straighten out Henry's vision. We're a little nervous about the whole procedure because surgery is inherently nerve-wracking, especially when your child is the patient. But I have confidence in the ophthalmologist and have been impressed so far with the hospital (we were there last week for pre-surgical screening). And I want to get it over with.

There's an even chance Henry will have to have the same procedure again some time in the future, because according to the doctor it is very difficult to get the adjustment right the first time. And once the physical correction is made, Henry will still have to learn how to use his eyes together in order to totally correct the problem. I'm not sure how we accomplish that, we'll worry about it later. For now, I just want things to go smoothly tomorrow.

New photo site

I opened a Flickr account to post more of my photos. I'll be adding more over the next few days, and (hopefully) updating it regularly. Check it out.

Talk talk talk

Henry's started using two- and three-word phrases. The first one I heard was about a week ago. I was showing him that our box of goldfish crackers (which currently account for about 30% of his total food intake) was empty and that we'd have to buy more the next day. He looked at me and said, slowly and deliberately, "Buy feesh NOW!" No big surprise that his first phrase was a command. He really hit the ground running with the whole "Terrible Twos" thingy. He's never been the most laid-back little guy, but the past few weeks have seen a big uptick in tantrums and general stubbornness. But when he's not scaring the neighbours with his screaming fits, he's being very charming and talkative, practicing his new skills.

Did I ever mention that he calls himself "RayRee"? It's cute.

Race racap

I'm happy to report that I met my goal of finishing the half marathon in under two hours. My official/gun time was 1:58:50, chip time was 1:55:12. (It takes a few minutes for the massive pack behind the elite runners to work its way up to the starting line, so most people don't start running when the gun goes off and the official clock starts ticking. But the computer chip you attach to your shoe doesn't start counting until the moment you actually cross the starting line. That explains the different times. And yes, I like the chip time better.)

Anyway, finishing the race in under two hours by both clocks proved to be more of a challenge than I was expecting. It was hot and sunny, which made it difficult to stay hydrated, but the heat kept my sore hamstrings and tight IT band (the tendon that runs from your hip to your knee) nice and loose, so it was beneficial, too. Basically it went down like this: I felt great for the first 9 km, started getting tired after that, and developed a minor stomach cramp and had to walk for a minute around the 13 km mark. That allowed me to recover enough to resume my pace. I felt a brief second wind with about 6 km to go and ran strong for the next 2 km. Then it became a real struggle to keep going. I didn't quite "hit the wall," but I did slow down significantly. Up to this point I had been keeping the 1:50 pace bunny in sight, but after 17 km I couldn't keep up anymore. So I just put my head down and focused on finishing the last few clicks without walking. I was pretty wrecked by the end, and it took everything I had mentally to keep my legs going. I was dizzy with exhaustion by the time I crossed the line, but after chugging water and sitting for a minute I felt fine--no trip to the medical tent necessary! Ya-hoo!

Tom and Henry were on the side of the road to cheer me on at two different points: near the 3 km marker, which was a couple blocks from our house, and at the finish line. Henry enjoyed watching the "runnies," as he called us. It was great to see them the first time, but I didn't even think to scan the crowd for fan support as I was finishing--I was too focused on getting to the end. Tom reports that I looked about as rough as I felt. Awesome--can't wait to see the finish photo. Yikes.

All in all, it was a positive experience. I'm proud of myself for sucking it up and meeting my goal. I think the fact that I was a bit naive about how tough it would be actually helped me, because I went into the race feeling confident and determined rather than intimidated. I'm not sure if I'll do a half marathon again, but I'm glad I did it once. Now I just have to keep up with my running so I can maintain the fitness level I worked hard to get back.

Strangest moments on the race: I saw not one but two people TALKING ON CELL PHONES while the ran! Sheesh.

In other race news, a big screwup led to the disqualification of 14 elite runners, including the winner. I can only imagine how bad everyone involved--runners, race organizers, volunteers-- feels about it. Click here for details.

Party pictures

Better late than never.

My Amazing Race approaches

The Ottawa Half Marathon is this Sunday. Woo-hooo! The forecast calls for sun and a high temperature around 28 C/83 F. Since I have had absolutely no opportunity to train in hot weather (recall that many of my training runs took place in sub-freezing temps), I'm a little concerned about this development. The heat could be a real shock to my system. Also, I'm not quite as fit as I would like to be. Originally my plan was to run like a fiend throughout the month of May as final preparation, but the Cold From Hell pretty much wrecked that idea. In short, I probably won't be breaking the tape ahead of the Kenyans. But overall, I feel good to go. I trained enough to get back into shape, and my knees and hips haven't crumbled into dust yet, so in a way I've already met my goals. And I'm looking forward to my first road race since, um--Grade 7? Ah, the glory days of Bellevue Creek cross country.

Wish me luck!

So much for the holiday

It's the Victoria Day long weekend, Canada's unofficial kickoff to summer. Our neighbours left town in droves on Friday to "open the cottage" ("The Cottage" = so Ontario) and start their seasonal outdoor pursuits in earnest. We celebrated by turning the heat back on in the house. Yep, it's BLOODY COLD here. Seriously, it's miserable: rain, wind, high temps in the low 50s. And the forecast calls for snowfall tonight. S-n-o-w-f-a-l-l. At least we're not stuck at some damn drafty cottage on an ice-cold lake.

Tom's parents are visiting right now. It's remarkable just how unlucky our guests have been in visiting just when a spell of bad weather hits. Oh well--Henry's having a great time with them.

Pimp My House

If you want to see what our house could resemble if we gutted it and shelled out for a six-figure reno, check out this place (scroll all the way down for interior pictures). It's just a couple blocks over, and very similar to ours both architecturally and in age. It listed a few days ago and there's a sold sign up already. I guess this neighbourhood is gentrifying faster than I thought.

The Amazing Race: Surprise ending

Great. Just what the world needs: two more Trustafarians. The surprise was that while the Hippies were using their high-falutin' educashun and brains and stuff to solve the flag puzzle, I found myself hoping the Frats would pull out the win. Didn't see that one coming, did you? Basically my opinion of them had mellowed over the past few episodes, and my patience with the Hippies grew thin weeks ago. I guess I started regarding the Frats' whole "Swingers" womanizer act as more tongue-in-cheek than offensive, and Jeremy made me giggle a few times. Also, they were good racers.

In contrast, the Hippies got on my nerves. I'm sure they're good guys. But the problem with these peace, love and good karma types is that in the course of a competition, they usually become hypocrites, or descend into some kind of self-delusion about themselves and/or their actions (see Survivor: Courtney). Both the Hippies and the Frats pulled some shady maneuvers over the course of the race, but the Frats never represented themselves as anything other than a couple of shady guys, so somehow it seems less distasteful. Maybe that's not fair. Maybe I just bring too much baggage with me after way too many years dealing with hippie Spirit Nazis on the ultimate field (if you don't know what I'm talking about, well, it's a long story. Never mind). Maybe it's because the Hippies managed to win even though they pulled a total Franimal at the snowshoe detour, but it didn't matter because every single task ended with a trip to the airport where all the teams caught up to each other again, so no mistake mattered until Eric messed up the flags. And maybe what's really bugging me is that the Hippies finished last TWICE, and if it wasn't for the lame non-elimination legs they throw into the race, they wouldn't have been in the finals at all.

That said, it was still an exciting, great final. Well, for two of the teams, anyway. I loved how difficult the legs were in all respects, from driving through Tokyo to snowshoeing uphill in Alaska through the combination physical/mental challenge at the very end, when everyone must have been totally spent and in a total panic. The race should be more about that stuff and less about Travelocity gnomes and extended swings through Europe on charter busses.

I wish I'd connected strongly enough with one team along the way to really root for them, but I didn't. And I couldn't bring myself to pull for the underdog, because what a dog it was. The difficulty of the Japan and Alaska legs showed just how weak Rolanda was compared to the boy teams. On previous seasons I don't think they would have lasted very long, since skills like navigating, communicating effectively with foreign strangers, and moving quickly through tasks are usually important on this show. Not so much this season. So there they were, completely out of their league and out of the running. Also, back to the dull bickering. So they had no chance, and they were boring. Not much to cheer for. Anyway, may they enjoy their fancy trip to Australia and live happily ever after (I didn't see it, but Ray proposed to Yolanda on the Early Show this morning).

As for poor Eric and Jeremy, well, I'm hardly heartbroken. The service industry will be waiting for them when they return from the bazillion trips they won along the way.

A funny: The Blogger spellchecker didn't recognize the word "womanizer." The auto-suggested alternative? "Homemaker." Hmmmmm. . .

Happy Birthday Henry, Part II

Tom and I marked an important parenting milestone last weekend when we hosted our first kiddie party. Seven kids came over in the late morning for snacks, playtime and the all-important cake. Their parents drank a lot of coffee. We kept things simple, working from the assumption that organizing activities for toddlers is a futile undertaking. And indeed, the novelty of playing with someone else's toys was enough to keep the kids happy. Henry was very shy at first and not happy about seeing his toy bin raided by outsiders, but he got into the spirit of things soon enough and seemed to enjoy himself. I had a good time, too. All the kids except for two (the children of Tom's colleagues) were from the neighbourhood. We have a nice community of young families right outside our door, so child-centered social activities are easy to plan. Plus, I like this crowd of parents. They're all easygoing people with lifestyles very similar to ours.

I was too busy chatting, eating and herding kids to take many pictures, but I will post one of Henry blowing out the candles once I find the file transfer cable for my digital camera (cleaning up for a party means I can never find the things I usually just leave lying around on the table).

P.S. We pushed our living room couch against the wall to create space for the party, then decided we like it way better that way. It's such a tricky room to furnish. I'd like to get a new couch that suits the space better and is more comfy for watching TV. And we could use some bookshelves to fill the empty wall space. Add it all to the list. . .

Survivor: Now taking bets on when Cirie will be on Oprah

That was a less-than-magnificent end to an enjoyable season. Once Cirie's fire went out, my investment in the outcome of this installment of Survivor plummeted. Since I assumed that whoever went with Danielle to the final would win, the result was hardly a surprise. And the jury trial was pretty tame.

But all that aside, the outcome was good. I believe Aras was a worthy winner. The ew.com site is filled with comments from people booing the outcome because "Terry dominated the game." I strongly disagree. Terry dominated the challenges. That's it. In every other respect he was a marginal player who had little effect on what happened to anyone else. Aras may have lost a lot of challenges to Terry, and but in every other respect, Aras was the stronger player. Pretentious and prone to flakiness when not in the throes of a roid rage, yes, but a strong player and not a bad guy. He deserves credit for holding together his alliance of kooks and winning immunity at a vital moment. True, the key moves he made were Cirie's ideas, but making a smart, under-the-radar player your most loyal ally counts as good gameplay. So I put him above Terry, no question. And Danielle was so clearly unworthy of the Sole Survivor title that it hardly merits analysis.

The only real surprise in the episode was that Danielle got to be the picker rather than the pickee. Who thought she'd win the final immunity challenge? I didn't. But the balance-based endurance test might as well have been designed specifically for her to win. When it comes to staying upright on a sinking, unstable surface, lowest center of gravity wins. The end. (And weighing 93 pounds or whatever doesn't hurt, either). It was dumb for Aras to jump off, thinking they had a pact, but he wasn't going to beat her, either, so no harm done. It was also a little bit dumb for Terry to win the reward challenge, because at that point it was probably more important for him to spend some time shoring up his relationship with Danielle than it was to have a meal. After all, Danielle had burned him twice before, so he should have realized that her word wasn't exactly gold and he needed to keep working her. But what's a million dollars when you can show Aras who's boss yet again! See, poor gameplay. He didn't deserve to win. And with that, I give you my final random observations about this crew:

• Shane: I can't believe he resorted to copying the lame, lame, LAME "pick a number" trick for his vote. And dude, what sort of deranged stylist got a hold of you before the reunion show? Has Angus Young started a men's clothing line?
• Courtney: What the??? Incomprehensible. Except for the hating part. I love it when people say they're "over it" and lecture on how bad it is to carry negative feelings around while they're clearly seething with animosity. But yeah, we totally hear you, Evil Hippie. It's all about the love. Except when it's not.
• Cirie: I wasn't expecting the Reunion Show to be such a Cirie-fest. But I guess everyone else liked her as much as I did. She looked great, too. Slimmed down, made over--all ready for her closeup as short-term Queen of the YouGoGirl media nation.
• Bruce: Who knew he had such a thing for Danielle?
• Tina: God, that poor woman. I wonder if Probst felt cheap milking her grief like that. He should.

Survivor: Cliffhanger!?!!!

Oh MAN! I can't believe they left us hanging like that. What a great episode. Head butts! He-bitch showdowns! Juvenile taunting! Strategy! Suspense! And Terry. Finally. Lost. Immunity. Halle-freakin-lujah.

So I'm a big dork, but I was actually rooting out loud for Aras in the immunity challenge, since a) I figured that him winning immunity in the Final 4 was the only way Cirie would have a path to the Final 2, and b), I wanted Terry to lose, because I think he's a big tool. He's so clueless when it comes to the non-physical aspects of the game. 5-1 in immunity challenges, 0-5 in strategic maneuvers. And he keeps alienating potential jury members with his scolding and "father knows best" condescension. That's not how you win the million. Maybe with a different group of people he wouldn't be coming across as such a pissy jerk, but the fact that this crew has refused to fall into line behind him seems to have taken its toll on his emotions and reduced him from teflon military tough guy to whining soccer dad trying to manage bratty kids. Sure, Aras crossed the line with his taunting comments and rightly apologized, but I think he's gotten to Terry a lot more than Terry's gotten to him, despite what Terry says about "getting into his head." Aras can always spend a few minutes in Downward-facing Dog and get back to his happy place of love and peace, but Terry can't do anything to win respect from the remaining players, and it's driving him bonkers.

Anyway, all the hilarious Toolio vs Fauxhawk action gave me a great idea for a special edition of this show--"Survivor All-Stars: Return of the Alpha Males." Put 16 of the most competitive, athletic, testosterone-fueled former contestants on an island and watch the sparks fly. They could have the most insanely difficult challenges and some funny ones, like, say, who can sustain a phone conversation for the longest time, or who can identify by name the most women's shoe styles, etc. It would probably end up being a giant train wreck of a show, but that's why we watch, correct?

As for the current edition, well, it all depends on who wins the fire challenge, obviously. Danielle seems to have the most negatives with the jury, so if she wins she looks like the best bet to take to the final two, no matter who's doing the choosing. If Cirie pulls it out, things get stickier and I don't see an obvious choice for anyone to take to the finals. I'm not even going to bother thinking about whom Cirie would choose if she wins immunity, because I just don't see that happening. The Alpha Beeotches are going to fight it out one last time. Somehow I suspect Terry would take Cirie over Aras to spite him and because he'd think the argument that he "did more" to win than she did would be compelling, failing to see how she used her smarts and people skills to maneuver through the late stages of the game. Aras might take her just to deny Terry his shot at the million. Or he could take her because they're close and she saved him from Courtney's attempt to oust him. Or because she has the same negatives to confront with jury members like Shane, Courtney and Danielle and doesn't have two votes locked in already, like Terry does with Sally and Auten. But if the guys were paying attention when Cirie started talking about how much she's proved to herself during the game and how sincere and likeable she sounded, they both might think twice about how they'd fare against her at the final tribal council. So who knows what's going to happen. I do know that I eagerly anticipate hearing from Shane and Courtney. Do not call my house Sunday evening. I will not be answering the phone.