The Goal that Wasn't

New Years. I remember as a kid, each year in January my dad would have us all pull out our journals and write down goals for the year. "A goal not written is only a wish." I'm pretty sure my goals were all well-intentioned, but after that day, I don't think I ever thought of them again. It was tradition. As an adult I'm a lot more careful about making goals. I don't just casually think something up, put it in my journal, and promptly forget about it. No, my goals are carefully thought out. They are worthwhile and achievable. Last year I picked three things that I thought were both these things, wrote them down, and left the paper out so I could see it all the time and be reminded. I found that paper a few months ago when I was organising; I think it had gotten swept into a stack of other papers within a couple weeks. Oops.

So my goal setting process is still a work in progress. Maybe next year.

Just kidding. I did actually set a goal for 2010. Just one. (Of course I have myriads of other things I'm working on, but I'm already working on them- this goal is something new.) I'm not going to write it down - but that doesn't make it a wish. This is something I am going to accomplish.

Just watch me.

What Christmas is All About

Family.

I could just leave it at that, but the blogger in me wants to elaborate. Of course, Christmas is actually a celebration of the birth of Jesus, but how bad is it that that's not what I get most excited about? It's an essential part, yes. A good opportunity to reflect on what His birth means to me. One of my favourite traditions is the Bethlehem dinner, where we spread a blanket on the floor and eat what Mary and Joseph may have eaten that night.

It's not about presents, either. Christmas shopping (the actual shopping part, not deciding what the people I love will exclaim over) is probably my least favourite part of Christmas. I have war wounds from that.

Rob and I were at Toys 'R Us in Kelowna, hoping to find a particular game. The parking lot was full, but we finally found a spot. A narrow one; the cars on either side had both parked right on the line, and we were in a minivan. Rob squeezed us in, though, thanks to his mad parking skills. We were close enough to the car on the passenger side that not only was my door unable to open, but even the sliding door on that side was a no-go. So I climbed over the car seat on the driver side to get out. It was the getting back in the same way that was my undoing. I'm not exactly sure how, but I landed on the car seat in an awkward way, and now I have some sweet bruises (see below).

But I was talking about my favourite part of Christmas: family. My definition of family includes blood-relatives, in-laws, and close friends. I love to get together with them. Laugh, tell stories, eat good food, and sit quietly and enjoy each others' company. I like to sing with them, watch old family videos, play with the kids, bask in the Christmas spirit and excitement.

For me, Christmas is not about what I get (although I am selfish enough to like that part, too) but the good excuse it provides to get on a plane and be with my family.

Frozen

Today is Sunday. I know, way to state the obvious, Sarah. Why don't you tell them it's December, too. Or that it's winter. Actually, the fact that it's winter is very pertinent to my story. You see, today is Sunday, so at 11am we get all prettied up and go to church. It's 11:17 right now, and I'm sitting at home in front of my computer, and Rob is in bed. That brings me back to winter. Have you ever experienced a prairie winter? Last week we had a big snow storm, maybe even a blizzard, and it's been snowing and very cold ever since. According to the weather network, yesterday had a high of -35 with windchill taking it down to -50. Cold, right? This morning, the air (outside, of course) was filled with mist, a cold, penetrating mist. It coated everything during the night, making the whole city sparkly white. It's very pretty. And very cold. Would our car start so we could go to church? The remote car starter (a must in Edmonton) failed to start it, so I went outside to try it myself. After nearly wrenching the handle off in my efforts to open the door, I could barely even push down the clutch. The car is frozen solid. I managed to get a couple click-click-clicks out of it, but that was all. We're stuck at home. The sad thing is last winter some pranksters decided to cut the plug off our block heater, so we can't even plug in the car. I'm not quite sure what our options are. But for now, we'll stay here in our snug and warm home, and enjoy the view.




Happy winter!

Fragile: handle with care!

I am the ninth of ten children in my family. Being at the end of the line, I had plenty of nieces and nephews by the time I got married. I'm not sure how, exactly, but somehow it always worked out that I never met the new additions until they were a little older, past the fragile newborn stage. So, while I had a lot of experience getting toddlers riled up and playing tag with the older kids, I had always felt somewhat uncomfortable holding a newborn. As a teenager I took a babysitting course, so I knew the basics: support the head, etc. I knew what to do, but it just didn't feel natural.

So when I got pregnant, I was both nervous and excited. I might not have felt comfortable holding newborns then, but surely after holding my own for hour upon hour I would get the hang of it. I would learn.

Nine months later, when the nurse put my little girl in my arms and I held her for the first time, there was no awkwardness, no discomfort. It felt so completely natural, so right. I didn't have to learn how to hold her, I just suddenly knew. It was the most incredible feeling. This was my little girl, and we fit.

Interestingly, I no longer feel uncomfortable holding other people's babies, either. My intuition with Isabella applies to others, also. I don't worry about what to do with that wobbly head, and I know so many positions other than the cradle hold that I don't trick babies into thinking it's meal time anymore (it was always awkward when babies started rooting when I held them as a teenager).

The moral of the story: if you feel uncomfortable holding babies, have one of your own, and all of that will disappear.

A Change of Subject

I haven't written a post in a long time for two reasons: 1. Isabella is going through what is hopefully only a phase and requires all of my attention; and 2. Nobody reads this blog anyway.

I was going to try and make up for my long silence with a long entry today, but did you know that sleep-deprivation is used as a torture method? And I'm going through this voluntarily. Right now, while I can barely keep my eyes open and my body is begging for sleep, it seems a hard price to pay, but rest assured, I feel like this for only a few minutes before I sufficiently wake up and realise what a precious gift I have been given. Lack of sleep aside, Isabella really is the best part of my life. Her baby blessing says that she will be a light to and bring joy to those around her, and she truly does! I love being able to stay home and play with her all day; watch her grow and learn at an astonishing rate.

Canada, I thank you for maternity leave!

Campout in the Bedroom

I'm sure you have before now heard the term 'baby brain'. When a woman is pregnant, due to hormones and lack of sleep, she frequently experiences absent-mindedness and forgetfulness. I assure you, it's very disconcerting to suddenly realise you don't know why you are where you are. Why am I in the kitchen? Did I come to here to get something? to clean something? to eat something? I had to resort to lists, lists of even the simplest of things. Grocery list (I could always remember what we needed before), to-do list, list of things that need a list made. I had always believed that this condition would go away after delivering my baby, but for me that was not the case. I still keep a to-do list on my desktop that I look at every morning so I know what I need to accomplish that day. My forgetfulness does seem to be getting somewhat better, but I still have the occasional episode, as the following story relates:

Wednesday is the day I wash the sheets. If I do it the same day every week I'm less likely to forget to do it. One time, however, I forgot all about it, but not until after I had put them in the washer. So when bedtime came, my only set of bed sheets were soaking wet in the washing machine. Should I stay up for another hour while they dried? Those of you who have experienced the extreme fatigue of a newborn know that this wasn't an option. I needed sleep! I have to credit Rob with the solution- sleeping bags.

It felt like camping, complete with the faint smell of smoke. I'm almost tempted to 'forget' the sheets in the washer again, just to have the fun of camping in the bedroom.

Virus

I think I have a virus. Before you run away screaming 'swine flu' I should say it's not me that's sick, but my computer. And it's my fault. I downloaded a video player a couple weeks ago (the only thing I've ever downloaded) and my computer had been getting progressively worse ever since. It started as a small inconvenience- quicktime stopped working - but then all video players quit, then images, now I'm lucky if I can get into my email. What I'm really worried about, though, are my stories. I can no longer access them. I have several in various stages of progress, one nearly done. I can't lose them! I've poured hours and weeks of my time into them and, good or not, I am very attatched to them.

Rob can reformat my computer; kill the virus along with everything else. But what then?

Sharing the Love

Thanksgiving is my second favourite holiday. Traditionally I spend it with my family, and eat way too much of the delicious food we all help prepare. This year was a little different. We had friends over, instead of family, and the weather made it feel more like Christmas than thanksgiving, what with all the snow accumulated on the ground and still coming down.

Weather notwithstanding, we plowed forward. We risked cooking a whole turkey this year: our first time. On the outside packaging, it said "may be missing parts" and I though, 'oh, maybe it won't have all its innards or something' but no- when we opened it up we discovered a one-legged bird. Poor thing, it didn't stand a chance. But it sure was tasty! We ate it with stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, greek salad, carrots, fresh home-made buns, and apple crumble for dessert. Mmm!

Another tradition is to go around the table while we eat and everyone says one thing for which they are grateful. It's hard to limit it to one thing, don't you think? I have been especially blessed this year. I have a beautiful, healthy, happy daughter who makes every day wonderful; a loving husband who works and goes to school to help support our family; the best larger family anyone could ever dream of (I love them all so much!). And that's just the beginning of the list! I thank our Heavenly Father every day for his loving blessings, for giving me so much. I look at the beautiful earth around me, and my wonderful family, and wonder how anyone can doubt His existence. Something so perfect does not happen by chance!

*Shift, part II -- Betrothal

The man was unbearable. Allatea’s nose wrinkled in distaste even at the thought of him. As the son of the king’s chief advisor, Beyannev was one of the most sought after men in Aequo. He knew it, and it showed in his swagger, his carefully oiled hair, his unequivocal arrogance. He probably spent more time grooming than most women in the city. Despite finding him insufferable, Allatea would have married him. For the good of the kingdom, she would have coupled herself to a man who was not only incredibly vain, but was also rather stupid.

But that was before. Before she met Tiernahk. Before she knew the truth about the Vahrlet. Allatea had been taught all her life that the Vahrlet were monsters, or animals at best. They would contaminate anyone with whom they came in contact. For this reason no Vahrlet were allowed on the palace grounds; even the king was not immune from their pollution. Wealthier citizens owned hundreds of them, always managed by lower-born Doyenne. The Vahrlet were not allowed to talk, make eye-contact, eat around, or in any way intimate that they were anything other than the lowest of the low, trained beasts.

When Allatea had stumbled across Tiernahk in the woods as a child, she had not known what he was. She didn’t know not to speak to him to avoid contamination. They became friends. It was only later that she realised what he was. As she grew older, Allatea realised that she loved him. Despite being a slave and being beaten frequently, Tiernahk was more alive than anyone she knew. He had a peculiar sense of humour, a droll way of speaking that had her constantly laughing. When they were older they discussed more serious subjects. He would tell her what it was like to be a slave while knowing he was really a king, the incredible frustration he felt at being unable to protect his people. He also knew more about the history of Aequo then anyone. Allatea had been taught history, but what Tiernahk told her was very different. The Doyenne had not always ruled. In fact, Tiernahk was a direct descendent of the last Vahrlet king. Allatea could sense he wasn’t telling her everything. He was still putting together the pieces of ancient records. He was close to figuring it out, but not sure enough to vocalise it yet. Whatever it was, it was important. She caught him now and then looking intently at a blade of grass, or at a branch, or even at her, but his thoughts were far away as he puzzled it out.

Allatea treasured every moment they spent together. They were rare, as she had many duties and lessons, and Tiernahk couldn’t disappear without being severely punished. He didn’t tell her that, but she knew; sometimes he couldn’t meet her because he was injured or too weak to leave his bed. Despite the risk, she met him as often as possible; she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

So when the king announced her betrothal to Beyannev, Allatea had to come up with a plan. Run away? Start a scandalous rumour about him? Have him killed? Telling her father the true reason wouldn’t work, as Allatea could hardly own to loving a slave.

Day after day passed as Allatea wracked her brain for an idea, an excuse, a reason. She thought about starting a rumour that Beyannev was sterile- that would put an end to the match in a hurry- but in the end she couldn’t do it. As much as she disliked Beyannev, Allatea couldn’t do something so low. She would have to find another way.

Allatea snuck over the garden wall and ran through the woods. Maybe Tiernahk would have an idea. She hid behind a tree and watched the house, waiting for Tiernahk to come out. This was how they met. They had no trusted messenger, no arranged meeting times- both were too dangerous. So whenever she was sure of a couple hours alone, Allatea would steal away to meet him. In the trees nearby she would wait until he came out on an errand. They would walk out into the woods where no one went but themselves, and talk and plan and just enjoy being together.

The sun slowly lowered in the sky, and there was still no sign of him. Allatea would have to do this on her own. She didn’t know what had happened to Tiernahk, but she couldn’t wait for him. The guards would discover she was not in her garden, and that would lead to all sorts of misery. Her father would no longer trust her; she would never be alone, she would never see Tiernahk again. Allatea raced back to the castle and scrambled over the garden wall in time to hear the guards announce the king.

The king looked at his daughter, dishevelled and breathing hard. “What have you been doing, Daughter?”

“I...I was in the tree.” Climbing trees would get her in trouble, but it was better than treason.

“When are you going to start acting like a princess? Like a woman! You will be married soon, and I expect you to act appropriately.”

“I won’t marry him Father!”

The king’s eyebrows lowered dangerously. Allatea winced. She had not meant to defy him openly like that. This could be her only chance to reason with him, talk him out of this betrothal. She closed her eyes briefly, gathering her wits.

“Father, Beyannev is a spoiled peacock. He won’t make a good consort. He’ll seduce the maidservants and distract me from what’s important.”

“He has good blood. He’ll sire strong children. You can handle the rest.”

“There are plenty of men with good blood. Please, let me choose a man who will contribute, someone with whom I could be happy.”

“You, choose your own husband! You will do as you are told.”

“Is that the kind of queen you want me to be, Father, an obedient one? You taught me to think and act for myself. Beyannev is not the right man.”

“Beyannev may not be the brightest of men, but he doesn’t need to be. His only job is to father children and look good for the public.” The king smirked. “He does that already.”

“Please Father. At least consider it. An unhappy queen is not a good one.” Allatea hoped her arguments were persuasive enough. She would not marry Beyannev.

“Daughter, why is this suddenly so important to you? You’ve known for years that you will marry him.”

“I’ve grown up Father. Being a good queen is more important to me than anything. I used to think that I could do that on my own, but now I see that who I have around me influences what kind of decisions I make. Isn’t that why I’ve never met a Vahrlet?”

The king’s smile was wry. “You’re comparing Beyannev to the Vahrlet?”

Allatea knew she had won. If the king could joke about it, she was safe. Safe from marrying a man she didn’t love. For now. She wouldn’t be able to stay single forever, and she would never be able to marry Tiernahk. Some day she would have to marry and produce heirs. For the good of Aequo she would have to find a Doyenne man who shared her beliefs and marry him. Some day. Not now.

No, why delay it? Allatea knew she had to end her friendship with Tiernahk right away. Putting it off would only make it worse. She would meet him one more time to explain things, to say goodbye. One more golden afternoon before a life of duty. It would be hard.

The future queen took a deep breath. It would break her heart, but this was her road, and she would take it.

Sweets and Spiders

Warning: the following entry is not intended for diabetics or arachnophobics.

Sweets

Have you ever had baklava? It is a delicious, gooey, very sweet dessert of nuts and cinnamon sugar rolled in layers of phyllo pastry and drenched in a honey mixture. Mmm!

I had always thought baklava was a greek dessert, since every time I've had it, it was made by an old greek woman with a recipe that had been in the family for generations. But I was wrong. It's actually Turkish in origin, spread during they heyday of the Ottoman Empire, and is traditionally served during Ramadan.

My mistake in it's origin, however, does not take away my immense enjoyment while eating it. If you have a couple hours to kill, try making it, or if not, buy some! Even those on the strictest diet deserve a little treat now and then, and why not satisfy that craving with a cultural experience?

Spiders

Now that we have the yummy part of my post over with, let's get into the nasty. As I came out into my living room this morning, I saw that my cats were very interested in something on the wall. I came closer...then shrank back. It was a spider! Now, don't mistake my for an arachnophobic. I am not afraid of your common house spider, and whenever I come across one I take it outside. But this one was different. It was huge! It was mottled grey and brown! Not counting it's legs, this spider was probably at least 13mm across. My usual policy regarding spiders went out the window. I was not going anywhere near this one, let alone taking it outside where it could lay eggs and then my whole house would be invaded! No, this spider deserved a different fate: the vacuum. It took several seconds for that spider to finally succumb to the pressure of the vacuum and get sucked in, then I left it running for another few seconds to ensure it went all the way down. The last thing I wanted was for that nasty spider to come crawling out of my vacuum and catch me unawares! Even now, hours later, I'm still slightly disgusted.

Unfortunately, in my haste to get rid of it, I didn't take a picture of the monstrosity for you. This is the closest I could find. Just imagine it crawling up your arm, or peeking at you from the sheets!

Where's Freud when you need him?

I'm standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. A few doors down there's a woman outside also. She's angry. At me. Swearing, she hurls a bottle in my direction. I duck, and it shatters behind me. Small pieces of glass sting my exposed skin. The woman jumps the railing and heads for my balcony. I run inside, try to secure the door. It won't latch! I try again, no luck. The woman is stronger than I am, and forces her way through the door. As she advances toward me I see she carries a long knife in each hand. She attacks. I duck and weave, but I'm no match for her. I get several deep gashes. An onlooker takes one of her knives and hands it to me, so I can fight back. I manage to cut her a couple times. I knock her down, and go in for the kill. Try as I might, I can only hit her shoulder, as if there's a force-field guarding the rest of her. I look, and realise neither of us is injured. No cuts, no blood. I gingerly try my knife on the tip of one finger, then rasp it hard across my arm. The knife is made of soft rubber. Hmm. "Weird" I say, and drop the knife.

Season's Greetings

Autumn is my favourite season. I know, I say every season is my favourite at the time, but I do have reasons to back it up. I love it when the air gets cool in the evening, and is fresh and crisp in the morning. I love the many colours of fall: red, orange, brown (not a yucky dead brown, but the brown of certain leaves before they fall). I love how my little house is no longer 3000 degrees inside. In Edmonton we sometimes get unseasonably cold weather, so all the leaves turn brilliant colours, but then it heats up again, so we get the wonderfully warm weather of summer with the beauty of autumn.

In autumn, also, the sunsets/rises are fantastic! Before moving here, I never knew the sky could be so many different colours. On the sun side, it's rosy, yellow, pink, and a little blue, and in the other direction it's the deepest black studded with bright stars. In the middle, the black fades to a deep blue, then a lighter blue, then a little dusky rose and yellow come in, and so on. Don't trust my description, this is something you have to see for yourself. It's breathtaking. If you've never been to the prairies before, I suggest you make the trip, just the sunsets and rises alone are worth it!

Un-honeymoon?

In the absence of any interesting events recently, I've decided to delve into the past in order to keep my sister satisfied.

I've heard many different stories about family vacations. Some hate them, some love them, but usually there's some of both. In my experience, they're mostly good, with only a spat here or poor weather there to mar the perfection. I love my family a lot, so vacations are always great. Since Rob and I were married, however, the dynamic changed. Suddenly we had to split our time between our two families. Who got summer vacation? Christmas? Thanksgiving? It created a bit of tension.

So last summer we skipped it all. Rob and I went to Mexico. It was an absolutely perfect vacation. The weather was hot, the water clear, our day trips wonderful adventures. The food was fantastic, so we ate a lot. It was even better than our honeymoon. We never had a single discordant thought, and enjoyed everything together. Our vacation was relaxing, exciting, filling, and romantic.

Our first day trip took us into the desert. We stopped to swim at a cenote- a deep cave filled with crystal clear water and lots of fish. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Plants on the surface sent down long trailers to reach the water, and shafts of sunlight highlighted the colours. It was amazing, and the cool water felt great after the 45 degree C. weather.

In the afternoon we visited the ruins of Chichen Itza. So much history in one spot. I had always pictured just the main pyramid, but there are hundreds of other buildings and smaller pyramids, each with their own story.

One day we went to a small town nearby to shop. The vendors were very pushy! "Come in, free air-conditioning!" "Just come in and look!" "Pretty jewelry for a pretty lady!" We spent way too much.

On our last day trip we explored an underground river system. We were issued wetsuits and helmets with a light on top. This trip is not recommended for claustrophobics! The tunnels were narrow, but would open up into vast caverns where we could see stalagmites and such of all different colours. I guess the people that run this tour are a little short on money, because the way in is a dirt, much-rutted road which we traverse in the back of an actual WWII truck (no shocks) with branches whipping our faces the whole way! It was kind of fun in a very jolting, slightly nauseous kind of way.

In the mornings we went to the beach before it got too hot, and enjoyed the white sand and clear water. I'm not a sun-bather, but it was so peaceful down by the water.

I think the evenings were my favourite. After the sun went down a breeze sprang up, cooling the air and filling it with the faint perfume of flowers. It was very calm and quiet, except for the chirping of crickets and distant laughter. Overhead the stars shone so bright!

Rob and I dream of going back some day.

The Gravy Affair

Yesterday Rob made a delicious roast beef dinner. We ate and ate and made ourselves feel sick with all the yummy food we ate. Afterward I put the food away. I was trying to be helpful, but it turned out I made more work for everyone. I was putting plastic wrap over the bowl of gravy, but the plastic wasn't tearing easily. In my efforts, I accidentally knocked the bowl of gravy off the counter. Why, oh why, was I in such a hurry to put that plastic wrap on? Why couldn't the gravy have just spilled on the floor? No, it had to go crazy. It splashed all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the cupboards, the windows, the dishes I had just washed...my entire kitchen was in ruins. Not only that, the gravy dried quickly, and I had to scrub and scrub to get just one spot clean. It took me hours. Sigh.

*Shift

It was a small cellar, no more than a box in the ground. The ceiling was so low he could only crawl, the walls so close together he couldn’t lie down. Tiernahk had been in the cellar for nearly a month without even a moment’s reprieve. At first he spent a lot of time thinking. He worried about Allatea. Had she been caught? So far they had been lucky, perhaps too lucky. His owners did not suspect he was sneaking out to meet the princess; Allatea’s parents did not know she was in love with a slave. Tiernahk’s punishments for disappearing for hours at a time were often severe, and he sometimes wondered why his owner didn’t sell or even kill him to be rid of the inconvenience of an unreliable and often rebellious slave. But there was the prestige of owning the king of the Vahrlet to be considered. Tiernahk was a direct descendent of the last Vahrlet king of Aequo. So while his masters were cruel, they would not kill him.

But that still left him in the cellar, worrying. Tiernahk was a historian of sorts, and from his study of ancient documents no one else had ever bothered to read, he had learned a great secret. There were two races on Aequo: Doyenne and Vahrlet. Every three hundred years the magic that sustained the kings shifted, leaving one race and residing in the other. Invariably the newly dominant race put the other into bitter slavery. This had been going on for centuries, perhaps even millennia. This shift would occur in another four years, the magic leaving the Doyenne king and coming to rest in Tiernahk. If the Doyenne knew of this they would certainly put to death every last Vahrlet in Aequo to secure their own position of power. In their ignorance, the Doyenne were perpetrators of a vicious cycle where each master race became more cruel than the last. This cycle could only lead to the eventual extinction of one or both races.

Four years! How could he rally his people in such a short time when he spent so much of it confined in a box? Tiernahk was determined to end the cycle of abuse in Aequo. It was deteriorating quickly. He was lucky; as much as they hated and feared him, his owners would not kill him. The rest of his people were not so fortunate. Doyenne masters often beat or killed their slaves in fits of pique or to punish the Vahrlet for some misdemeanour, real or imaginary. Tiernahk puzzled over how to unite the two races, how to convince the Doyenne and the Vahrlet to live together as equals. They could accomplish so much together, the strengths of the one aiding the weaknesses of the other.

After two weeks in the cellar Tiernahk was no longer able to focus on his dilemma, or even on Allatea. His body screamed for reprieve after so long in a cramped position and very little food. When he slept his dreams were strange and disjointed. He saw Allatea standing with the other Doyenne elite, mocking him. How could I love a Vahrlet slave like you? Tiernahk woke up sweating despite the cold of the cellar.

After three weeks in the cellar he was no longer himself. His mind was taken by incoherent ramblings and phantoms. One of the other slaves, who brought him food on occasion, found him mumbling to himself and unaware of her presence or even the sudden light that flooded the dark cellar. It took her two days to work up the courage to speak to her master, but she eventually decided her punishment, or even her death, would be a small thing in comparison to the death of her king.

Tiernahk was useless for the next week as he recovered from his confinement. The other slaves went with little sleep in order to cover his duties as well as their own. He felt a wave of guilt as he contemplated the suffering they would surely endure in future days as he prepared for the shift. Could he just disappear, live free in the woods? It would be better to be unhampered by any duties to his masters so he could concentrate fully on his task. No, Tiernahk couldn’t do it. The other slaves would certainly be tortured for his location; the Vahrlet king could not be roaming free, inciting the other slaves to rebel. Somehow he would have to make the Doyenne and the Vahrlet at least tolerate each other as citizens while still maintaining his life as a slave.

Four years. Tiernahk couldn’t shake the urgency. Four years to convince his people they didn’t hate the Doyenne for the years of misery they’d suffered. Four years to prepare Aequo for the power shift so it would happen bloodlessly. Four years in which he would have to move covertly so as not to provoke the ire of his masters and end up in the cellar again. It was vital the Doyenne not find out about the shift, but the Vahrlet needed that same information to rally around. Tiernahk had no idea how he would accomplish it all. It would take all his powers of persuasion, all the force of his character, and most likely more. Perhaps it was impossible. Had others in the past made the attempt? He didn’t know. But despite the apparent impossibility of his quest, Tiernahk had to try.

Four years. 1460 days. Tiernahk squared his shoulders.

Day one.

Momentous Occasion

Yesterday was a big day: we moved Isabella into her very own room. Up to now, she's been in a bassinet beside our bed, or in our bed as often as not. The move was more of a big deal for me than for Rob; he wanted his space back, but did I? How would I sleep without her beside me? Would I wake up thinking that I heard her cry when really it was the cats rough-housing in the living room? Would I fail to hear her cry at all? Maybe Isabella wouldn't be able to sleep without a warm body next to her. I had so many concerns. Maybe if I didn't move her at all she would become spoiled and not be able to sleep on her own when older. Maybe, what if, ahh!

Now that the first night is over I can feel better about the move. Isabella did just fine on her own; in fact she slept four hours in one stretch! Or at least, it wasn't until four hours later that she cried loud enough for me to hear her from my room. :)

My little girl is growing up so fast!

Baby

I don't understand babies. Today being Sunday, we all went to church. Isabella, my 31/2 month-old daughter, was tired and somewhat cranky before we left, but I assumed she would fall asleep on the way. I was wrong. Ten minutes into the service I had to take her out. I fed her, bounced her, did everything I could to get her to sleep, but she was too tired to sleep. Eventually I decided to leave early, as there was no chance I would be able to attend the rest of the meetings. I put her in her bassinet at home, and she went right to sleep without even a whimper of protest.

I love my daughter more than anything, but she seriously hampers my lifestyle.

First

This is my inaugural post. Why did I start a blog? Good question. I'm not really sure myself. I think it may be because my sister has one, and I can never be outdone by someone younger than myself. Well, that's not true, but it's as good a reason as any. Just don't compare mine with hers, because she is a wonderful author, going to school for journalism in fact, and I am...not. So prepare yourself, dear reader, for a marvellously mediocre blog.

Thank you.