Entries Tagged 'family' ↓

I don’t daydream. Matter of fact, I don’t nightdream, either. But I find my brain subsumed, taken over by a symbiotic fantasy. Paris.

A letter written, protesting against the questions, buts, what ifs and painting a photograph of weekends, mornings, late evenings started my mind stumbling down cobblestones, and now it remains seated at a café, enraptured with the grey weather. My mind, the words on paper, my body and passport scream Do! Go! Do!

And so, despite thick piles of red tape, I think we will.

Instead of remaining steadfast in anti-vaccination, we probably will simply because it’s required in the French school system.

Instead of homeschooling, she might attend four months of French immersion here in Vancouver’s rainy bounty and another four of authentic French immersion in Versailles, and from there, we’ll see.

Instead of finding a little place around the corner, big enough for the two of us and ripe for renovation, maybe we’ll hop across a large body of water and spend a year or more hopping from one furnished home to the next, every three months, living with the books, clothes and cuddly things we love most.

Instead of living within our means, paycheque to support payment, to government cheque, to paycheque, cash won’t burn holes in the pockets of my jeans because we’ll truly live the simple life – cherishing the every day as a new one, exploring, coveting, saving, photographing, creating and being zen.

This daydream is easy to make reality, despite all of the paperwork, costs and efforts. This daydream seems like kismet. This sublimation feels like it’s owed, a chance to be born anew, a thing to chase after.

Paris, we’re coming for you.

Despite starting early, shopping wisely, having a short list and trying to reserve splurging for important necessities like, say, having a freaking 6′ Christmas tree of our very own, it’s still entirely possible to go overboard. For me, $617 is overboard.

And that’s just the receipts that I remembered to keep.

And even though I bought myself a subscription for Christmas, the new Real Simple magazine at the check stand still gets me hot enough to buy (for my stocking, of course), even knowing that my first issue might be in the mail right this minute.

And despite scrupulously sizing the Xmas eve pjs that Zoë picked out for me, the top was still too small for the twins and the bottoms were too large for my everything; Zoë’s size four gap pjs fit (which is a head-scratching occasion, if ever there was one, given that her size two clothes from the same store still fit fine). Next year, I need to mix-and-match.

Despite making two kinds of fudge, brownie bites, shortbread, sugar cookies, gingersnaps, chocolate drops and chocolate peanut butter cups within a 12 hours period, I still feel like baking. But now know to bake less things. I also learned that the post office won’t allow you to mail any of the above to California. Sorry, Backpacking Dad.

Even though I thought that I wanted a holiday without The Ex and his mom, we ended up having them over for Christmas morning presents and breakfast, and it was nice. And despite a bright label promising gluten-free (which often also means taste-free and dense as all get out), Bob’s Red Mill Biscuit Mix makes some damn fine pancakes. Fine enough that Zoë ate five.

The fact that The Ex was here for dinner on Xmas Eve (sort of Salmon Piccata, sans capers or white wine) and Xmas dinner wasn’t bad, either (even though my yorkshire pudding ended up empty, the roast beef overdone for my taste, I forgot to make the peas still populating my freezer, and my gravy was too thick, Christmas dinner was delicious).

Despite my ample supply of Christmas movies (and the always necessary Jewish representation: 8 Crazy Nights), I need more – this collection’s getting played out.

Despite how relaxed and at peace I felt about all things Christmas, I’m still prone to yelling, which disappoints since I’ve been making a huge effort to return to the gentle, respectful way of talking to Zoë that I used to use. Especially when, despite it only being put together for a few days, and only without a tablecloth for a few hours, Zoë still managed to colour on my new (cheap, and paintable) kitchen table.