I can't believe I'm saying this but ...

I'm kind of jealous of Amy over at Bitchin' Wives Club because even though she is living in a sea of boxes that won't unpack themselves at least she gets a fresh start. We have been living in our current house for almost six years and that is the maximum we have ever stayed in one place.

Here's our timeline as a couple :

• 1987 - lived together for first time in a lovely garden flat in London, England.
• 1988 - first apartment together in Toronto, again a ground floor with patio but moved up to the second floor when someone tried to break in while we were sleeping.
• 1989 - bought our first house in Toronto with original dark, gumwood trim, stained glass windows, ancient kitchen but huge backyard, painted the living room hunter green.
• 1990 - sold first house, considered moving to Vancouver then bought second, considerably smaller house one block away (this was during mini recession). Again, original trim, tiny kitchen, smaller garden, two bedrooms. Painted living room blue.
• 1993 - sold and moved to Kennebunkport, Maine while OH studied boat building. No rentals to be had before school started so bought lobster fisherman's shed behind big house with only second floor habitable. Ground floor was already inhabited by squirrels. Renovated with help of boat builders and painted living room cream.
• 1995 - packed up truck and drove across the continent to White Rock, B.C. on the Washington state border. Rented fifties bungalow and sponge-painted living room. Faux finish era.
• 1996 - lasted five months on Wet Coast and packed up truck to drive across continent back to Ontario (truth be told, OH did the driving while I flew with the dog)
• 1997 - built timber frame dream home on property next to the farm where I grew up. Painted living room hunter green again because, as painter said, everyone with a house like this does.
• 2001 - sold dream house because country living wasn't the life for me and moved back to old neighbourhood in Toronto. Painted over original dark trim with Benjamin Moore Cloud White and living room Ralph Lauren Golden Retriever or Yellow Lab
• 2007 - sold house in the city and moved to small town. Painted every strip of knotty f**king pine panelling Benjamin Moore Cloud White much to painter's distress and living room Berh's Clotted Cream.
• 2012 - bored of house, walls and trim trashed from three boys and friends. Eighties almond fibreglass bathrooms unbearable. Exterior nineties sage green paint peeling and blond floors scuffed. All easily fixable (with money) but much easier to just leave it behind and start fresh, right?

Is it just me or does something smell a little off?

Much as I predicted the record-breaking summer-like weather we had while the boys were on Spring Break has come and gone just as I feel my energy level returning. After over a week of feeling like complete and utter crap I can finally get out of bed and attempt to look after my children (sort of). My Other Half seems to have beaten this flu back or is just a whole lot tougher than me (unlikely, but he has soldiered on). But the fallout seems to be that I have no sense of taste or smell. Nothing. Upside is I couldn't smell anything as I pooper-scooped the backyard yesterday. Downside? I couldn't smell or taste the brownies I made last night for the boys. Upside? I couldn't care less about eating anything and might lose some weight. Downside? I keep trying things to see if I can taste them so I might not lose any weight.

It is the strangest sensation (or lack thereof) brushing your teeth and not tasting the minty toothpaste. I can't tell if I have horrible morning breath or if my teenager has left his stinky socks and shoes in the hall. I went on-line to see if this was an unusual after effect of the flu and it isn't unheard of but I have never had it happen before but then again I don't think I have every had the real full-blown flu. The one they warn you about and tell you to get vaccinated against. I am sorely missing my morning cup of coffee. I bought Eggo waffles ostensibly for the boys but really for me to eat to see if I could detect their chemically-induced tastiness. Last night I barbecued steak and veggies for a steak and feta salad and I couldn't even smell the barbecue burning off the fish from the last time we used it wafting in the open window. It sucks, there's no other way to describe it. I love to cook and I love to eat. I can't imagine not tasting wine again or smelling the lilacs blooming which, at the rate this year is going, may happen sooner rather than later. And if I can't go up to the barn and breath in the smell of leather and hay and horses, my life will be poorer, indeed.

Has anyone else had this happen to them? I have a couple of friends who lost their sense of smell and with it goes taste because of medical treatments and I am hoping this isn't permanent although a month or so would get my weight down to a more manageable level for the summer. In the meantime, I will keep trying things - salty, sweet, bitter, anything and hope for the best.

Sometimes Nice Guys Do Finish First

Sunday was that most dreaded day of the year - Club Championships for the three ski racers in our family. Luckily for me my Other Half gave up racing when he became the sole proprietor of our business. There isn't enough disability insurance in the world to cover us if he was hurt and couldn't work. As for me? I am waiting until I am in the over 80 category when I hope I will be the only one left standing or at least with all body parts intact. My competitors will either have to enter in the Bionic category or else won't be walking after all the injuries and joint replacements they are already enduring in middle age. As for the boys, it was a learning year. All three were in the lower half age-wise of their categories so even Number Three wasn't expecting to be on the podium as he has done in years past. But he and his middle brother acquitted themselves well, coming in fourth and fifth respectably. Number One who works the hardest still has yet to break into the top ten of his group and it has been a frustrating year. He started out with high hopes after he got back from training in Colorado in November when his coaches told him he was one of the top skiers but as the season progressed he fell back into his old ways. No anxiety attacks this year but over-thinking every race. He is conservative and cautious by nature just like his father and that coupled with the fact that many of his peers have bulked up considerably and he is still skinny as a rail he just isn't quite there yet.

Saturday night he wasn't feeling great but was still game to go in the morning. He had an okay first run but fell in the second and when everyone gathered for the prize-giving he really wasn't feeling well but I told him we had to stay and cheer on his buddies. He lasted about halfway through the awards and then finally said he had to go home. My Other Half and I both went with him and left the other two with my sister. When we were almost home my sister called, screaming, "He won! He won! You missed it. He won!" Every year they award a trophy to the athlete who best exemplifies good sportsmanship and dedication. Earlier that afternoon, as we were walking the dog, I had remarked to my Other Half that I hoped this award would go to a kid who really deserved it, not just to another top racer who won all the time anyways as it seems to have over the past few years. Those kids get lots of recognition but the ones like my eldest who love the sport and try their best every time but just don't have that extra something to get on the podium, they rarely get recognized. Until now. As my sister relayed what the head coach had said about it being a unanimous decision voted on by all the coaches and the club cheered as my son's name was called, I couldn't believe we had missed it. I know that for my very shy son it would have been agony to go up on stage but for me, as a parent, a field that hands out very few awards for raising a great kid, I would have loved it. We did receive lots of congratulatory emails from our friends and the two little brothers were, of course more than happy to accept on his behalf. And, I know, it's not about me but I am going to make damn sure when he graduates from Grade 8 this June that I am in the front row to take all the credit for my wonderful first born.

Numbers Two and Three proudly accepting on behalf of their big brother

More Dispatches from a Parallel Universe

As most of you know, from December to March my family and I inhabit this alternate reality called Alpine Ski Racing World. Now in Austria or Switzerland this wouldn't be so strange but we live smack dab on a big rock called the Canadian Shield. Nowhere near any real mountains but our life revolves around our ski club where all three boys spend a ridiculous amount of time going up and down a 700 foot vertical. But with them out of the house three or four day a week, getting exercise and competing with their friends it's not all a bad thing. A very expensive thing but not all bad, especially when they win.

Number Three Son practicing holding his skis up with his best bud, O-Dog for when they are sponsored by Atomic

Number Two Son with his gold medal winning team

(I try not to think where those medals have been)

Number Two with his buddies and a big honking trophy

The littlest cousin making his way up the Magic Carpet

Hot on the heels of his cousins on the race course

Why we loved the Queen Mum

"Wouldn't it be terrible if you'd spent all your life doing everything you were supposed to do, didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't eat things, took lots of exercise, and suddenly, one day, you were run over by a big red bus and, as the wheels were crunching into you, you'd say, "Oh my God, I could have got so drunk last night." That's the way you should live your life, as if tomorrow you'll be run over by a big red bus."

- Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, quoted by Michael Parker in
Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother: The Official Biography

A Brief Sojourn Miami

My Other Half has been away for two weeks at the Boston and Miami Boat Shows and I was lucky enough to join him for the latter. Despite the fact that we stood in a parking lot in 85F heat for ten hours a day I couldn't really complain. We were together, there was no snow and no meals to make.

Espanola Way where we stayed which is lined with restaurants and boutiques. We ate Mexican, Cuban, Spanish Tapas and French in the four nights I was there. Breakfast was at a Jewish Deli.

Our hotel in South Beach. Quite old and Spanish-feeling. A bit noisy at night with the restaurant below but great people-watching from our balcony on the corner

The view from our room

Our booth in the parking lot

What our booth (complete with a bar) will look like next year after we sell lots of boats

Random Tuesday Ramblings on Wednesday

• I am already worrying about what I will do when Season Two of Downton Abbey ends. Don't tell me how many more episodes there are, I don't even want to know.
  
  
• I feel not so much off but more like under my horse for the first time in three years. It wasn't very dramatic as I was only trying to get back up from a log when he moved and my foot was stuck in the stirrup so I ended up on the very hard ground with him standing perfectly still looking down at me as if to say, "I'll just wait here while you sort yourself out."
  
  
• Number One Son has now missed nine days of school out of a possible 20 since they went back after Christmas. Yup, he's on the right track for becoming a member of the Canadian Senate.
  
  
• Day One of Single Motherhood began with me deciding to make banana bread for breakfast. Why? Not sure. Unfortunately the frozen blueberries I put it in resulted in the middle not cooking while the outside burned. Note to Self: Never try to operate large appliances before noon.
  
  
• Number Three Son is finally going to get some extra help at school after test results showed he is relying almost entirely on memory which is sad in that it took so long to figure it out and amazing that he has coped as well as he has.
  
  
• Number Two Son announced that he has joined the school choir which, I think, has less to do with my continued suggestions that he should do so and more with the girl to boy ratio.
  
  
• I received three (!) bouquets yesterday but my favourite by far was the one from my best friend Sandy (shh, don't tell my Other Half or my Dad) It was made up with beautiful blush pink Parrot Tulips. They are all blousy and droopy and made the other arrangements of lilies and roses look stuffy and formal in comparison.
  
  
• I am going to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop, my name came up on the waiting list, I paid my money and now I have to figure out how to get to Dayton, Ohio. Drive for nine hours or drive for two, wait at the airport for two, fly for and hour or so and then do the same in reverse. But however I get there I am so excited to be going and meeting a few of my blogging idols - Tanis of Attack of the Red Neck Mommy, Amy of Bitchin' Wives Club and Kyran of Planting Dandelions.
  
  
• I've decided that instead of giving something up for Lent (which I have never done anyways) I am going to use stuff up. My freezers (yes, that's plural) are full of food, as is my pantry and while Number One Son continues to eat for four I want to empty out all the meat, pasta, rice and other things before I hit Costco again. So, no more stopping at the grocery store because I've forgotten to take something out of the freezer to cook for dinner. I am, for the first time in my life, actually planning meals in advance and it is easier. Can't wait to see how long we can live off the fat of the land, so to speak.