Lungs fit to burst

We never got sick in Australia, apart from one spectacular bout of gastro, (referred to as the Mount Etna Week-end) and stuffy noses each time the natives came out (trees, not people. The ones which smelt of baked potatoes. I'm still talking about the trees here).

Since Christmas I have had a cold, cystitis, a cold, gastroenteritis, a cold, bronchitis. Obviously, I wasn't getting much fun out of -itis, so have moved onto the letter "P": Pleurisy and Pneumonia.

I thought it would be the alarming mosquito which would do for me (after all, it is the state bird), but no, it'd be the weather. And, as it foolishly wasn't in the get-out clause of our pre-Minnesotan agreement, I will be forced to wear my snood and two downy jackets for the next three years.

On Thursday, I got sloppy and didn't have the requisite 2 foot of down between the car, and the school - that's what must have finished me off.

By the time I got home I had the shivers, which, quite frankly, unless you have been truly sick before just seems like a mild inconvenience.

Gamely, I talked bridgjo into making a fish-pie (which in the end remained uneaten), whilst I slumped across the kitchen table, then trembled off upstairs to bed wearing all my clothes, duvets and a dressing-gown. I can't remember, but probably in that order. An hour later I was still shivering so asked bridgjo to get the doctor out. Which they don't do here. 12 inch pizzas, yes. 6 foot handsome doctors, alas, no. Instead I got Mary Poppins on the phone who insisted I came into the Urgent care, as "a cough and shivers to me can quickly turn into pneumonia". I was still in denial, but by this time, I really fancied some lovely drugs (so much so I didn't even put in my contact lenses and do my hair).

Urgent care is a great idea - a walk-in centre where they see you immediately, with no truck about waiting times if you are feeling particularly ill, just whisked away in a wheel-chair.

I was momentarily thrown when the receptionist asked "Is this your first time at a Park Nicollette?", almost as if I had arrived at a Harvester. I wanted to ask for the vegetarian option, but even then I realised the only person to get that would be the little man who lives inside my head.

I was bustled into a little room, where over the next few hours I was x-rayed, blood-sampled, EKG'd (or possibly ECG'd - like T I sometimes get my curly cers and kicking kers mixed-up), an antibiotic drip with saline (strangely it was the saline which seemed to perk me up no end), a handful of drugs and several prescriptions.

I had one Benny Hill moment, when the nurse struggled with the right words, refused to say "You're going to feel a bit of a prick", because obviously that would be rude, but instead said "I'm going to poke you firmly now".

With the saline drip, the doctor came in and said "Do you want to go potty?". I considered it for the moment, and said "You know, I don't think I have the energy, but thanks any way....Oh, you mean the toilet?".

I was slightly worried when the doctor said "You have pneumonia, and we are sending you home", convinced that this was exactly what they did with old people.

So feeling relatively better, we went home via that very American Institution, the drive-thru Pharmacy.

Had a reasonably comfortable night, apart from throwing up the pain-killers (the little blighters refused to stay down), and creaking each time I breathed...but realised at about 2 am that they hadn't actually sent me home to die.

Since then,we have had two follow-up calls (what service!). Dr Johnson of the evening shift had said that pneumonia is actually pretty difficult to diagnose from x-rays, as it can be about two days behind the picture taken. The day shift, however, must have had the etch-a-sketch version of the pictures, gave them a good shake, and rang to confirm the diagnosis.

See, I told you we didn't need television.

Moving House...

No, not us - but here's a link which is distinctly Minnesotan:

http://www.startribune.com/local/38530692.html

We are expecting some snow tonight, so won't be going skating after school with T. Instead, I will be battening down the hatches, and baking (siege mentality starts to set in once in a while, when I see the weather forecast.

Although born with gingerish hair, T sometimes says things which perfectly demonstrate her genes (ie she is just like her dad).

She was watching me put on some face-cream this morning and in a very serious 'I am going to impart great wisdom here' look on her face said "Why do you bother buying that stuff, Mummy? It doesn't work, you know".

Do they talk together about me? Does he prime her in advance?

Admittedly, face-creams are my one big down-fall. Yes! I DO want 400x lashes! YES! I WANT to apply blue whale sperm and look 40 years younger! (now that just sounds weird) . YES, YES!! Please let me purchase a nail varnish that not only does not chip (GUARANTEED!!!!), but also can be used to highlight brows, and whisk away unwanted bikini-line.

No more. New Year's Resolution #536 (in progress) - I am going to use up ALL of the face-creams currently secreted away in various parts of the bathroom (expense looks less like that - this is very much a sly woman's trick). Although I won't be using the ones which give me spots, although I may persuade bridgjo to use them by suggestively leaving them in the vicinity of his toothbrush. Except maybe the foundation, as it is a bugger to get off the pillow-cases.

Not only will this save money, but also free-up about two drawers. No idea what I will keep there, mind. I'm running out of space in the kitchen, so maybe items not used that often like the cheese-grater, turkey baster and the collection of doilies. As the bathroom is the en-suite, this might be one thing to explain to the cleaner, should we ever get one.

Make your own entertainment

There is a saying here in Minnesota. Possibly. That if it is cold enough to hammer in a nail with a banana you left in the garage all night, then it is quite likely that it is too cold to go outside. Didn't stop us hardy Brits though - right upto the moment we piled into a ski-shop to buy more clothes (T was happy - boots to press all the buttons of a 5 year old. Purple. With fur).

It was another weekend of demented racing around, determined to make the most of the sun-shine, whilst, at the same time, hoping to find the time to squeeze in yet another cup of tea somewhere warm.

The top photo is off the sledding club's day-out. We're not members, but felt the need to gate-crash. Even a locked gate at the golf-club didn't keep us out, so we yomped over the back-way. Once there, though, people were very nice, and T got to sit on a horse, although we didn't get a chance to go on a sled. They took it rather seriously from their bear-skin coats, down to their cat-skin boots.

First time I've looked at a fur coat, and not a single studenty thought entered my head except, 'Mmmmm, toasty'.

Here we went to the Centennial lakes for a skate. I used a sledge to lean on, so I didn't make too much of an idiot of myself, plus it was handy when T's feet started to get cold (after about 5 mins). Still pretty impressive skating on actual water though.

We also tried to go to the ice-harvesting - where they show hardy souls how the ice was cut out from he lakes for the ice-houses, and for moving around the state. It was a bit too pricey, so instead we played in an igloo on one of the smaller lakes nearby.

Finally we went to see some of the winter festival in St Paul - the ice-carving (below) and the snow-sculpturing. It was excellent - even a treasure hunt in the snow for the littlies (though I was tussling with some seven-year-olds).

I have stunned the other mothers at T's school by professing that we are getting rid of our cable this week. "But....what will you do?". It's a boring fact that with the cost, and the fact that we only watch Top Gear, Gordon Ramsey and the Back Yardigans, there's no point, really....however, we have already received a call from Comcast letting us know we can have the Cable and Internet package for $10 a month less than what we are paying for Internet access now.

Let's play hardball!

Nowhere to run

We had a great Minnesota day today, out in the cold, with the most brilliant sun-shine. At first, I refused to go out with T as I thought it was too cold. Bridgjo got grumpy and said "You know, it is above 20 degrees now, you know", which, of course, changes things.





I would like to fool you all that this is a photo of our back-yard, but, luckily, it was taken at the zoo. All the wolves are moth-eaten and quite moody. The pecking-order obviously gets to them, when there is nowhere to run.

T has the day off tomorrow for Martin Luther King Day. For the rest of Minnesota, this was last week, but the French school quite handily makes it a long week-end.

Parky

This morning, just north of here,it was minus 60 degrees fahrenheit (with wind chill). This means, it was approximately ONE HUNDRED degrees warmer in my fridge. I phoned Australia on Monday, but got no response. I called again on Tuesday - "Oh yeah, we didn't come in. It was a recovery day as it's been so hot".

Ah the similarities between Perth and MN. Once has snake-bite, and the other frost-bite. One has tanned, buffed surfer dudes (apparently), and the other, well you have no idea until you get 'em home and unwrap 'em.

In fact, here the weather has to be a measured minus 50 degrees before the authorities close the schools. So kids can be waiting at bus-stops in weather which would make a polar bear wince and say "a bit parky for me, I'm afraid".

Both T and I have had our first ice-skating lessons. T says she's OK for lessons now,as she can skate. This is almost true as she is going forwards, bending over, and turning. Conversely, I can waddle like a duck, knees bent, bum out. I am a diva. T wants to be able to do tricks. I will settle for knowing how to stop.

Tonight's tea is terriyaki pork. We are giving turkey a rest for a few days.

Fancy a spin on the lake?

Two birthday parties this week-end. Not meaning to be churlish about my child's popularity, but I am a teensy-weensy bit "over" parties now. Some of the mums, indeed, were chundering about how everyone's seems to have to be invited, and how the kids just get spaced out by the presents (although Frederique has the right idea - after Theo's party she let him open just one present each day....but only if he had been good. I wondered why he came up to T. a few days afterwards and enthused over her pressie....he could actually remember it).

One party was a mad free for-all at one of the kids play-centres. The other was a bit more sedate at the Children's museum, for just 10 children, and the chance to make an ocean in a test-tube and slime.

Yesterday was a sparkly Christmas card sort of day, so we went to check out the skating at Centennial lakes. Strangely, you have to go underneath this shopping centre, but, at the other side is this small river network, which, obviously, is now iced-over. In the evenings, they turn on the flood-lights and the classical music is cranked up. Skates are available to hire (plus zimmer-frames for those of us a bit more doddery on our ice-bound pins, and sledges for the kids). The warming house (a necessity) is a huge Victorian looking barn, with three fires (although only one was burning), and snacks....we think we'll go next week once T. and I have had our lessons.

Afterwards, we went to Minnetonka and DROVE ON THE ICE. Bear in mind that the ice here is actually extremely deep indeed (no chance of this before January, although there's always one). People drive out, set up their fishing huts and sit out there for hours. Completely bonkers. It's great.

Here's a pic from another web-site of Lake Minnetonka: (http://www.toprankblog.com/)

Note that these fishing huts have satellite TV.

And another of the cars, just as proof (the more eagle-eyed of you will see that these are from Russia - I didn't have my camera with me....) -

It's weird driving along with the GPS on, looking either side of the road and seeing the cars parked on these vast expanses of white, with the sheds out, and looking at the screen and seeing the familiar blue of lakes either side.

How to tell when you love a child....

....when you change their pukey bedding 5 times in one night, whilst feeling distinctly queasy yourself.

Not that I actually own 5 changes of bedding. It was achieved by variously sluicing down the toilet, washing on hot, and using each of the guest bedrooms. They never tell you that on the NHS adverts for norovirus.

I succumbed yesterday, so spent the day in bed reading (I should do it more often. Plus there is the upside in that it is the only guaranteed diet). Three things I dislike about the publishing world:

1. Books written in the present tense. This makes my ears itch. Can't be doing with it. Has anyone ever written a book entirely in the future tense? (Books in French do not count, as they are linguistically bonkers).
2. Books with wonderful reviews on the back cover. Just not for that book.
3. Books republished with a different title.

I went to the coffee shop with one of my Official New Best Friends today. She told me they got the Sheriff out as they thought they had a rabid raccoon in the back garden. Not for long...

New Year's Resolution #1: Always have mint tea out. It is far more "classy" than a latte and a third of the price.

Not Homeward Bound

A small, insey-winsey bit of a problem-ette on our departure date. A misplaced consonant caused a slight mix-up betwixt an a.m. and a p.m. with us thinking we were leaving Teeside at 5 pm, then leaving Amsterdam at 10.30 pm. Unfortunately.....we were leaving Amsterdam the next morning instead. Luckily we were able to get a reasonably priced hotel-room at the Sheraton in the airport, which worked out well, as we checked our luggage all the way through, so just meant we could roll off one plane in the evening, onto another the next day. Bridgjo's company also allows us an upgrade, meaning we could use the lounge (and food) they have there (plus there is always the frisson of excitement that only single-use shoe-shine kits and complimentary shower-caps can give).

The flight then between Amsterdam and Minneapolis-St Paul was not as tiring as other times. We were the last ones on the plane, and so scored ourselves a row of four seats at the front. This meant the leg-room and semi-comfort of Business, although without the service (although the stewardess came pretty pronto when I said T was about to barf). The films were pretty dreadful "In the land of far-off Anesthaesia, a small pizza strives in search of the perfectly straight anchovy, realizing on his journey that he is to be the savoury of the human race. Contains strong language".

It seemed to be a collection of possibly the chief-steward's personal DVD collection, with lots of Meg Ryan and Sandra Bullock. Super.

And now, we are back home. T's now succumbed to the flu (with a record 5 changes of the bed last night), but is happily ensconced in her (clean) bed and some Disney to amuse her (or to send her, hopefully, to sleep).

It is still bone-jarringly cold.