Ravenscar

We have done some walking this week. Each time we decide to go down to the beach for a 'fossic' or (we need to find a verb for this) 'a ferkle around in the rock-pools', Bridgjo decides to take us a way he last took when he was about 12. Unfortunately, since then about 10m and several houses have tumbled into the deep. The coastline is changing each time we come, and it was evident from today's yomp down to Ravenscar that Nature is not going to give up quite yet.

We'd hiked all the way to the alum works, fueled by Bothams' best (tea cakes, curd tarts and pasties), then got stuck. Although in the past Bridgjo and I have gamely flung ourselves down the sides of cliffs with a couple of fishermen's rope and a crampon, we have to now be slightly more sensible with a five-year-old, but not too much, in case we deprive her of living life on the edge. Or not.

So we had to climb back up to the golf course (whilst trying to look as if we were not trespassing), and back down the other way. Only about a 2 mile detour. Luckily T is too young to quantify what this means, although I was gagging for a cup of tea by then. Oh God. I can see myself starting to take a thermos with me. It will be plaid rugs next, mark my words. And using phrases like "Mark my words".

When we got to the beach, we decided against looking for fossils (fossicing), as the cliffs were looking precarious. this time, we concentrated on the rock pools, with the crabs, hermit crabs, fish and jelly tot "anenemonenes".

And then we looked up to check the tide, and found ourselves eye-balling a group of seals. This was a big thrill, as they came quite close. Further up the beach there was a pup, who'd been stranded, so the family must have been gathered round waiting for the tide to come in and help it out. It was great to see them, and it rounded off a truly great holiday.

Are you going to Whitby Fair?

Never thought I would ever hear myself say the words "Let's go to Whitby. It'll be warm there". And, indeed, it is. As I overheard someone say "It's so warm Ah could tak' off one of me cardies".

The first morning both T and bridgjo slept in until 10.30, giving me chance to pop into town to shop at Woolies, and have breakfast at Botham's. Woolies is looking sad and bedraggled - lots of Tupperware (TM) and office supplies. I suspect that this year, judging by the armfuls of stuff being marched purposely towards the checkout, that gifts were slightly less traditional ("A stapler? I wrote asking him for a pair of socks! Can he get nothing right?!").

I was woken this morning at two a.m. by a little voice by the side of my head (and in case you don't know, 5-year olds never wake you up with an apologetic cough and a whisper) asking "So, Mummy - whereabouts is Santa right now? And is Doctor Who on tonight?".

And a Merry Christmas to everyone!

Minnesota Ice

Our first experience of black ice today. Except we were coming down an enormous hill at the time, and really had no idea it was quite that bad. Luckily we were sort of able to limp down the road using the gutter and grass verge for grip. Curtailed our day out though – obviously the reason why we were the only ones on the road.

We are due one foot of snow this evening. If I slide down my drive backwards tomorrow morning, I am getting out and we’ll have a snow day. After all, T and I are getting quite good at the learning at home. We are now onto the ‘ch’ sound. “Think of a word beginning with ‘ch’”, “Don’t know”. “How about something you are sitting on?”, I prompted. “Ch….ottom?”.

Reinforcing my idea that T is, in fact, the reincarnation of someone’s Nan, she very seriously piped-up from the back seat this morning “Mummy? You know, when I turned 5, I was happy, but very sad to say good-bye to 4”.

We received a parcel for one of the other neighbours at our address yesterday. I wanted to take it round, but quite frankly I have been put off that sort of neighbourly behaviour since we went next-door and realised they were butchering that morning’s hunt from a tree in their back-garden.

Instead I looked up the name on whitepages.com. Not only did it say “Kurt xxx, Aged 43. Is this correct?”, but also had the name and age of other adults at the same house. Bit intrusive.
Last Thursday was T’s cross-cultural training day. She had great fun talking about how she felt when she left, and how she feels now, and making a book called “T goes around the world”. She took it into school the next day, and it was lovely to see all the little kids gathered round as she “read” it out.

The teacher took us to eat at Chipotle, a fast-food Mexican place. It's pronounced Shee-POHt-lay" and you just know that there is some unfortunate three year-old who is constantly being introduced as a testament to their parents' ability to get on a plane.

Her school play was on Friday. It was about a child who goes to sleep and time-travels through different periods. T’s was the 1970s. It was a great success, marred only by one of the young dinosaurs laying out a pterodactyl. It was fun for me too, as I got to help out with the costumes and scenery.

Too cold to snow, indeed

The phrase "too cold too snow" is obviously rubbish, with several polar-bears begging to differ up there in the North Pole. This morning, it was actually warmer in the fridge than in the kitchen itself. It has already plummeted to zero degrees FAHRENHEIT (I have to shout that bit, rather hysterically), which makes the snow too powdery to make snow-balls (apparently. As if I am that mad to go outside find out. Or rather, as if I have enough winter clothes to go outside to find out).

I had my first experience today of driving on the ice (note to self, do not attempt another U-Turn until April). A bit slippery, and I'm not too keen, but unlike in Switzerland, if I refuse to drive in the snow, we won't eat until, well, April.

On Sunday I managed to pull myself out of bed for the first time for mass at the local Catholic Church. They had a breakfast for the newcomers. I always like to get some font-time in at this time of the year....hedging my ecclisiastical bets, just in case.

Am I the only one though to giggle during the readings and wonder "Did the Corinthians ever write back?".

Gobble! Gobble!

There are two phrases you don't really want to wake up to on the first day of a four-day holiday week-end:
1) "The toilet's blocked again"; and
2) "Mummy, I don't know how it happened, but I seem to have a purple pom-pom stuck up my nose".

The toilet's still blocked, alas, but the pom-pom was removed with the minimal amount of fuss and a pair of tweezers.

We almost managed an invite to a Thanksgiving Feast, but faltered at the last hurdle, as the chap who was inviting us found out that twenty-seven other people were being invited, and didn't fancy making it a round 30. Rotter.

Instead we are going to have that staple of post-Christmas gluttony: turkey curry. C* (bridgjo's company) gave us a voucher for a free turkey, so I went to our local super-market and ordered one, cut into eight pieces, as, quite frankly, I would be hard-pressed to fit a 30lb turkey in my freezer. This means we will have meat throughout those lean, winter months. In true American style, the butcher carried the dismembered carcass to the cash-register for me, and a bag-boy carried it to the car.

I also ordered the wood. A Fireplace Chord, no less, which is nicely stacked at the back of the house. The men who brought it arrived at 6am,having already done one delivery. I offered them a cup of tea, and asked how they wanted it. "Um, how do people have it?", one asked. I did it "servant's tea"-style: strong, milky with sugar. Half-an hour later, there was a timid knock on he door. "Any chance of another cup of that tea?" - more Americans converted to the complex ways of the English.

So what's the weather like there, then?

Blimmin' cold.

Yesterday I went for a bike ride. Normally, you have to swim about 6 lengths before you really warm up and, similarly, cycle about 10 mins. So although I was repeating the rapidly rabid-sounding mantra of "I am getting warmer, I AM getting warmer", I realised I was not, in fact, warming up, and, actually, this was probably because I could no longer sense the upper-epidermis. And I wouldn't have been able to feel the upper-epidermis in any case, as my fingers were numb, and, as far as I was aware had even snapped off in the extreme cold and were rattling around in my so-called thermal gloves. Hah! I say to the Minnesota winter (from my nice warm living-room, in front of the fire).

So, most likely, not that much more excercise for me, unless it involves crisps and old episodes of Casualty.

Apparently last year it went down to -17F. Obviously, this was just one of the locals having a laugh with me, like they do. -17F, indeed.

Today though, we did brave the cold (0F) for a nice walk (although we were the only ones).

Tomorrow I am buying a balaclava. Unfortunately, not the Greek variety.

Huntin', fishin' etc

I have a virus. Well, my lap-top has. It’s very interesting from a nerdy point-of-view, in that it does several things, including starting up Internet Explorer by Itself, and randomly replacing my desk-top icons with others so Excel looks like WinWord, WinWord looks like Minesweeper etc. Unfortunately, when it opens up Internet Explorer it seems to favour Russian Porn web-sites, which wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I decided I wanted to learn a new language.

So yesterday I went off to Bloomington to get the PC checked out at the C* (all names have been changed) office there. I wanted really to check out the coffee facilities, and to also make sure I was put onto a “please allow porn” list, so that I didn’t get instant dismissal next time I logged onto the network.

The coffee was mediocre, incidentally, as the company is in a huge campus of five enormous buildings, interconnected with the ubiquitous sky-ways. Normally I wouldn’t even have needed a coat, but it transpires I had to as every two hours I had to get out and move my car as I didn’t have a parking permit. Parking violations still scare me, so much so I use Cruise Control on 30 MPH streets. It is a fact that the more I keep to the speed-limit, the more other road users are encouraged to drive a little bit more bonkers that if, say, I was doing 8 over.

Not sorted, unfortunately, so I’m going to have to send my hard-drive to Toronto (where the nearest help-desk is). Apparently Minnesota is colder than Toronto. Oh, pur-lease. Stop this jesting right this instant!
The alternative is to go back to Oz and plead my case to getting anew PC, though that might not be exactly viable, with the weather an’ all.

And I have been informed by a reliable source that a cord of wood is “about the height of a moose’s hip, dontcha know?”.

And, yes, the hunting season has started. I passed by Nelson’s our local butcher, with an A-Sign outside saying “Bring your deer here!”. The news last week was helpfully informing us of the latest in rifles, and reminding us to wear bright clothes so our buddies don’t mistake us for two-legged venison. So the chap I passed in the ute this morning with the unshaven face and the bright orange beanie HAD A RIFLE IN HIS BOOT! (trunk).

I’m steadily picking up the lingo, although in Lund’s (the supermarket) this morning , when the cashier asked “What’s this?”, holding up a pepper, I had to reply “D’uh, dunno”, as I couldn’t think of the American. All the way home I was muttering “Egg-plant, zucchini, paprika. Egg-plant, zucchini…”.

And T has officially settled in well. She asked me on the way to school why I don’t have as many friends as her. “Would you like me to tell you how to make friends, Mummy?”, “Of course. Do you just ask them to play with you?”. She sighed, and with a wisdom that belies her years, explained – “When it’s “quiet-time”, you just go and get the same activity to do as the person you want to talk to, and then sit next to them, and you see, you just start chatting”.
It looks as though I may not have successfully cancelled the snow clearing (which may be a Good thing, depending on how much Warren quotes me when he passes by later today – some bloke who does next-door’s drive), as the orange sticks have already been placed along the drive way to tell him just have far he has to dig when it snows.
The 5 foot high poles with reflectors on the top which have started to appear along-side people’s verges are not, as I first thought, thoughtful ways of letting people know where the road-side is in the dark, but to let the snow-plough know where to plough when it is 5 foot high in snow. Super.