Long overdue
Where to start. Where to start.
Okay, first I have to share my new favorite picture of Paul. It's just too nerdy cute. I giggle every time I look at it.
And now I'll be kind and cut because this is guaranteed to be long, abeit with a few highly entertaining passages.
As the last real post I made was on the 22nd first thing in the morning, I suppose I should start there. Not that I want to. It's one of those things I said I'd just as soon forget ever happened. The concert was wonderful. Seger was in great form. You could tell how much fun he was having. Immediately following the concert, though, with my temperamental nature at this time of year, I picked a petty and childish fight that resulted in Paul and I sleeping apart and not talking for about 12 hours, and cast a big ugly shadow on the memory of what should have been a wonderful night. It really was all my fault. Bless that man for understanding the root cause of it without even having to be told, and forgiving me for being so downright mean to him. "We shouldn't be so hard on ourselves at this time of year," he told me with a long, warm hug.
And we moved on.
The next night we celebrated Sean's birthday with a movie and pizza night. I don't know why we call it a movie night. We never actually watch the movies. My brother, SIL Dee, nephew Jamie,
bacondiva,
eagleflight_woh and the Emo Midget shared the night with us. I was surprised and thrilled when
dragonsonmymind walked in the door with her hubby Mike and their toddler Kiran. I had no idea they'd be able to share some of their precious and short time here with us. It was a joy to finally meet the little guy, and good to see Mike and Silke again after so long. Thanks to all of you for bringing love and joy into our home.
And then Christmas Eve, with it's tradition of Paul's shopping trip with his brother. Every year he can't figure out why the heck he goes. The trip and his brother drive him nuts. But every year they still go out shopping together on Christmas Eve. It gives me a bit of a respite to finish up my own stuff. Later on we settled in for an evening of playing with cookie decorating and an evening long dinner of nibbly foods and mulled wine whiled we finally got to watch "It's a Wonderful Life".
I remember the days when Christmas Eve continued into the wee hours of Christmas morning, and Christmas morning started before the buttcrack of dawn. I don't really miss that. I rather enjoy lingering long in the bed with my sweetie. Since we didn't have to be at Mom's until late afternoon we enjoyed a leisurely morning opening presents and making breakfast. I even let up control of the kitchen enough for Paul to make his sausage tarts while I put together some scrambled eggs for us. I do believe Paul is happy with his new Red Wings sweatshirt. He won't stop wearing it. As for myself, the handful of new kitchen gadgets that Paul gave me to throw me off the track that my real present was waiting at Mom's house were not a disappointment by any means. I love new kitchen gadgets, and as far as I was concerned my presents were Bob Seger tickets and our nifty new camera. I was totally surprised when Mom pulled the Kitchenaide out from its hiding space under a table.
Christmas at Mom's house with all its excess and overkill. No amount of persuasion has ever succeeded in curbing her. I concede. And she spoils us all rotten. Not only did she give me a handknit scarf and a new flatbed scanner and Paul a couple of badly needed new sweaters, but she also gave us a new DVD player. Unfortunately, I'm going to need technical assistance to get it hooked up. Give me the back of my computer and I'm fine, but present me with the back of an archaic TV and VCR and a DVD player and I'm as lost as a babe in the woods. I think I need an adapter for the old style coaxial type hook ups on the TV, but I'm totally clueless about how to put it all together.
It was a very generous Christmas. Dad and Linda sent not only a box of sirloins from Omaha Steaks, but a box of New York Strips as well. They really are a rare treat, well outside our normal budget. Paul's residents were extraordinarily generous this year, too. We have received pound after pound of chocolates and cookies including one basket that contained almost four pounds of top notch goodies by itself, a couple bottles of wine and an adorable snowman Christmas decoration in addition to the more usual cash tips he receives. We have enough goodies around here to last until next Christmas. So what souveniers do we bring back from Niagara Falls? Cookies, of course, cuz I'm not fond of Canadian chocolates, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Christmas was about excess and overkill. The next day was about chaos and panic.
Now we've known since early autumn, at least, that we were going to Canada for our anniversary. To go to Canada we'd need our birth certificates. Our birth certificates, marriage license and all those other needful papers are kept in a lock box in our bedroom. Could I have possibly considered doublechecking on that before the day we needed them? Pffft! If I'd dug them out earlier I might have misplaced them. I'm prone to that kind of thing, you know.
We're two adults with no obligations, no itinerary and a prepaid room. We're in no hurry, and we start the day leisurely. We get all packed up, bags ready to be loaded into the Villager. I go to get the birth certificates. There's the manila Commonwealth of Kentucky envelope upon which is written "Paul's Birth Certificate". Looking inside I find the precious paper just where it has lain for the 16 years since our mad dash to Kentucky to procur it for our marriage license. I dig further into the lock box and come up with the City of Detroit envelope that is labled "Serena's Birth Certificate". I open the envelope and look at........nothing. It's empty!
After rifling through the rest of the lock box I come up empty handed. My next thought is the file in the front of the top drawer of the file cabinet, the one labled, "To Be Filed". It's a temporary place I keep for things that really belong elsewhere that I haven't managed to put away yet. I head to the dining room, yank open the drawer and find.....nothing. The "To Be Filed" folder is missing!
Paul, who had gone out to handle a quick side job before we left, came in to find me all but hyperventilating. Then a thought comes to me, and I calm down just a bit. Just go down to the Office of Vital Statistics in Detroit and get a copy. Then we can head out via Windsor instead of via Sarnia as we'd planned. I check the website. The hours are Monday through Friday 8am-4pm. I get the phone number, and call to double check. Yep, Monday through Friday 8am-4pm, the pleasant bot voice informs me. $17 for the first copy, a small price to pay to save our anniversary.
We load the van, and tear down the Lodge to the Herman Keiffer building. Yay! It doesn't even look too crowded. We should be in and out in well less than an hour and on our way to a lovely little vacation. We climb the stairs, open the door and find..........no one. Well, no one except the security guard who tells us the office is closed until January 4th. Hello?! This is the US. The day after Christmas, a weekday, is not a holiday, dammit!
Why, yes, I was in tears by that point, and feeling lower than a snake's belly. We tore back up the Lodge towards home, hoping against hope that the birth certificate fairy had visited in our absence to leave my birth certificate in its appointed place. That fairy needs to be fired. Dereliction of duty and all that.
As I sat in anguish tearing through every file from the cabinet that Paul put in front of me a thought popped into my head. I was pretty sure it would come to nothing, but it was my last desperate shot. I called Mom. Was there any way possible, I asked her, that she might just have a copy of my birth certificate, a certified copy not the cute baby footprints copy from the hospital? I heard her tell Al to fetch her trusty lock box from the bedroom and bring her the key. Then I heard the shuffling of papers.
"I do!" she said, sounding rather surprised herself. Yay! Mom saved the day, er, vacation. Off we tore to Niagara Falls, via Sarnia, via Mom's house. By the time the evening's fireworks started we had checked into our hotel, resigned ourselves to a reservation mix up that gave us a nonsmoking suite with a wonderful view and were seated in a lovely little Italian restaurant down the street, awaiting our dinner while we watched the show out the window. And laughing about our "adventure". From then on we had a lovely time.
The next day we must have put 10 miles on our weary feet, traipsing all over every inch of the Canadian side of the falls and a trip into the insanity of downtown Niagara Falls. We happily put away a German feast at the Happy Wanderer, a supposed institution in Niagara Falls, and walked the same route by night, watching the fireworks our second night from the falls. I've loved Louis Toussaud's Wax Museum since I was a kid, so we paid it a visit. Only the figure of Mother Theresa really took my breath away, though. That one looked real enough to check for movement. Our jacuzzi was one welcome treat when we finally got back to our room sometime after midnight.
We had a more leisurely day on Thursday, opting to buy an attraction package that included the Birds of the Lost Kingdom Aviary, Butterfly Conservatory, a passes for both the Skylon Tower and Journey Behind the Falls. It was a lovely drive along the river to the conservatory, with many gorgeous old houses to ogle as well as the river gorge. Paul was content to just wander slowly through the aviary and conservatory as I played with my new toy, taking about a zillion and a half pictures. Old fogies that we are, we headed back to our room on the early that night to watch the fireworks from our room before making some of our own.
The sun finally came out to play on our final day at the Falls. Of course, the temperature dropped, too. The mist that had just made the pavement, your jacket and everything else wet in previous days started freezing on everything making it all sparkle and gleam. It was gorgeous. We took our ride in the Skylon elevator, and walked the tunnels that lead behind the falls, and said our good byes. Not permanent good byes, though. There are several things we'd like to do that aren't available in winter---the botanical gardens, the jetboats in the whirlpool, the good old Maid of the Mist. We'll be going back. That, and Paul rather liked the couple of Cuban cigars he picked up for the ride home.
And you know the rest. There are pics of Christmas and Niagara Falls if you'd like to peruse them.
It's on to a new year, but not tonight. I've got a hubby to cuddle up on our last night of vacation.
Okay, first I have to share my new favorite picture of Paul. It's just too nerdy cute. I giggle every time I look at it.
And now I'll be kind and cut because this is guaranteed to be long, abeit with a few highly entertaining passages.
As the last real post I made was on the 22nd first thing in the morning, I suppose I should start there. Not that I want to. It's one of those things I said I'd just as soon forget ever happened. The concert was wonderful. Seger was in great form. You could tell how much fun he was having. Immediately following the concert, though, with my temperamental nature at this time of year, I picked a petty and childish fight that resulted in Paul and I sleeping apart and not talking for about 12 hours, and cast a big ugly shadow on the memory of what should have been a wonderful night. It really was all my fault. Bless that man for understanding the root cause of it without even having to be told, and forgiving me for being so downright mean to him. "We shouldn't be so hard on ourselves at this time of year," he told me with a long, warm hug.
And we moved on.
The next night we celebrated Sean's birthday with a movie and pizza night. I don't know why we call it a movie night. We never actually watch the movies. My brother, SIL Dee, nephew Jamie,
bacondiva,
eagleflight_woh and the Emo Midget shared the night with us. I was surprised and thrilled when
dragonsonmymind walked in the door with her hubby Mike and their toddler Kiran. I had no idea they'd be able to share some of their precious and short time here with us. It was a joy to finally meet the little guy, and good to see Mike and Silke again after so long. Thanks to all of you for bringing love and joy into our home.
And then Christmas Eve, with it's tradition of Paul's shopping trip with his brother. Every year he can't figure out why the heck he goes. The trip and his brother drive him nuts. But every year they still go out shopping together on Christmas Eve. It gives me a bit of a respite to finish up my own stuff. Later on we settled in for an evening of playing with cookie decorating and an evening long dinner of nibbly foods and mulled wine whiled we finally got to watch "It's a Wonderful Life".
I remember the days when Christmas Eve continued into the wee hours of Christmas morning, and Christmas morning started before the buttcrack of dawn. I don't really miss that. I rather enjoy lingering long in the bed with my sweetie. Since we didn't have to be at Mom's until late afternoon we enjoyed a leisurely morning opening presents and making breakfast. I even let up control of the kitchen enough for Paul to make his sausage tarts while I put together some scrambled eggs for us. I do believe Paul is happy with his new Red Wings sweatshirt. He won't stop wearing it. As for myself, the handful of new kitchen gadgets that Paul gave me to throw me off the track that my real present was waiting at Mom's house were not a disappointment by any means. I love new kitchen gadgets, and as far as I was concerned my presents were Bob Seger tickets and our nifty new camera. I was totally surprised when Mom pulled the Kitchenaide out from its hiding space under a table.
Christmas at Mom's house with all its excess and overkill. No amount of persuasion has ever succeeded in curbing her. I concede. And she spoils us all rotten. Not only did she give me a handknit scarf and a new flatbed scanner and Paul a couple of badly needed new sweaters, but she also gave us a new DVD player. Unfortunately, I'm going to need technical assistance to get it hooked up. Give me the back of my computer and I'm fine, but present me with the back of an archaic TV and VCR and a DVD player and I'm as lost as a babe in the woods. I think I need an adapter for the old style coaxial type hook ups on the TV, but I'm totally clueless about how to put it all together.
It was a very generous Christmas. Dad and Linda sent not only a box of sirloins from Omaha Steaks, but a box of New York Strips as well. They really are a rare treat, well outside our normal budget. Paul's residents were extraordinarily generous this year, too. We have received pound after pound of chocolates and cookies including one basket that contained almost four pounds of top notch goodies by itself, a couple bottles of wine and an adorable snowman Christmas decoration in addition to the more usual cash tips he receives. We have enough goodies around here to last until next Christmas. So what souveniers do we bring back from Niagara Falls? Cookies, of course, cuz I'm not fond of Canadian chocolates, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Christmas was about excess and overkill. The next day was about chaos and panic.
Now we've known since early autumn, at least, that we were going to Canada for our anniversary. To go to Canada we'd need our birth certificates. Our birth certificates, marriage license and all those other needful papers are kept in a lock box in our bedroom. Could I have possibly considered doublechecking on that before the day we needed them? Pffft! If I'd dug them out earlier I might have misplaced them. I'm prone to that kind of thing, you know.
We're two adults with no obligations, no itinerary and a prepaid room. We're in no hurry, and we start the day leisurely. We get all packed up, bags ready to be loaded into the Villager. I go to get the birth certificates. There's the manila Commonwealth of Kentucky envelope upon which is written "Paul's Birth Certificate". Looking inside I find the precious paper just where it has lain for the 16 years since our mad dash to Kentucky to procur it for our marriage license. I dig further into the lock box and come up with the City of Detroit envelope that is labled "Serena's Birth Certificate". I open the envelope and look at........nothing. It's empty!
After rifling through the rest of the lock box I come up empty handed. My next thought is the file in the front of the top drawer of the file cabinet, the one labled, "To Be Filed". It's a temporary place I keep for things that really belong elsewhere that I haven't managed to put away yet. I head to the dining room, yank open the drawer and find.....nothing. The "To Be Filed" folder is missing!
Paul, who had gone out to handle a quick side job before we left, came in to find me all but hyperventilating. Then a thought comes to me, and I calm down just a bit. Just go down to the Office of Vital Statistics in Detroit and get a copy. Then we can head out via Windsor instead of via Sarnia as we'd planned. I check the website. The hours are Monday through Friday 8am-4pm. I get the phone number, and call to double check. Yep, Monday through Friday 8am-4pm, the pleasant bot voice informs me. $17 for the first copy, a small price to pay to save our anniversary.
We load the van, and tear down the Lodge to the Herman Keiffer building. Yay! It doesn't even look too crowded. We should be in and out in well less than an hour and on our way to a lovely little vacation. We climb the stairs, open the door and find..........no one. Well, no one except the security guard who tells us the office is closed until January 4th. Hello?! This is the US. The day after Christmas, a weekday, is not a holiday, dammit!
Why, yes, I was in tears by that point, and feeling lower than a snake's belly. We tore back up the Lodge towards home, hoping against hope that the birth certificate fairy had visited in our absence to leave my birth certificate in its appointed place. That fairy needs to be fired. Dereliction of duty and all that.
As I sat in anguish tearing through every file from the cabinet that Paul put in front of me a thought popped into my head. I was pretty sure it would come to nothing, but it was my last desperate shot. I called Mom. Was there any way possible, I asked her, that she might just have a copy of my birth certificate, a certified copy not the cute baby footprints copy from the hospital? I heard her tell Al to fetch her trusty lock box from the bedroom and bring her the key. Then I heard the shuffling of papers.
"I do!" she said, sounding rather surprised herself. Yay! Mom saved the day, er, vacation. Off we tore to Niagara Falls, via Sarnia, via Mom's house. By the time the evening's fireworks started we had checked into our hotel, resigned ourselves to a reservation mix up that gave us a nonsmoking suite with a wonderful view and were seated in a lovely little Italian restaurant down the street, awaiting our dinner while we watched the show out the window. And laughing about our "adventure". From then on we had a lovely time.
The next day we must have put 10 miles on our weary feet, traipsing all over every inch of the Canadian side of the falls and a trip into the insanity of downtown Niagara Falls. We happily put away a German feast at the Happy Wanderer, a supposed institution in Niagara Falls, and walked the same route by night, watching the fireworks our second night from the falls. I've loved Louis Toussaud's Wax Museum since I was a kid, so we paid it a visit. Only the figure of Mother Theresa really took my breath away, though. That one looked real enough to check for movement. Our jacuzzi was one welcome treat when we finally got back to our room sometime after midnight.
We had a more leisurely day on Thursday, opting to buy an attraction package that included the Birds of the Lost Kingdom Aviary, Butterfly Conservatory, a passes for both the Skylon Tower and Journey Behind the Falls. It was a lovely drive along the river to the conservatory, with many gorgeous old houses to ogle as well as the river gorge. Paul was content to just wander slowly through the aviary and conservatory as I played with my new toy, taking about a zillion and a half pictures. Old fogies that we are, we headed back to our room on the early that night to watch the fireworks from our room before making some of our own.
The sun finally came out to play on our final day at the Falls. Of course, the temperature dropped, too. The mist that had just made the pavement, your jacket and everything else wet in previous days started freezing on everything making it all sparkle and gleam. It was gorgeous. We took our ride in the Skylon elevator, and walked the tunnels that lead behind the falls, and said our good byes. Not permanent good byes, though. There are several things we'd like to do that aren't available in winter---the botanical gardens, the jetboats in the whirlpool, the good old Maid of the Mist. We'll be going back. That, and Paul rather liked the couple of Cuban cigars he picked up for the ride home.
And you know the rest. There are pics of Christmas and Niagara Falls if you'd like to peruse them.
It's on to a new year, but not tonight. I've got a hubby to cuddle up on our last night of vacation.