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New Year's Day 2012. Time to leave NYC and head for Philly for a home cooked meal with Simone's parents. "Can we stop by the Statue of Liberty?" Requested one of the 20 year olds. "Sure," acquiesced Simone's hubby. "It's on our way, in New Jersey." Simone dutifully entered the NYC version of the Statue of Liberty in the GPS. The GPS dutifully led them to the harbour. "Um," Simone said, hesitatingly. I seem to remember taking a boat to get to the Statue of Liberty when I was a kid." Simone's husband gazed at the water in front of them. "I'm sure it's accessible from New Jersey. Let's go to New Jersey." So Simone dutifully entered the New Jersey version of the Statue of the Statue of Liberty. Once again, the GPS dutifully led them to the harbour. "Well I'll be darned," declared hubby. "It IS on an island." And there was no way they had time now to take a ferry to the island and back, given that they were expected in Philly in a few hours. So they parked their cars as close as they could and hiked over to the water's edge. Yup. It sure was on an island, that statue....

la fumée

"Je n'en reviens pas," marmonna Simone. "Notre chambre d'hôtel pue la fumée. C'est tout à fait dégoutant." "Tu as raison," approuva son mari, le roi des diplomates. "On devrait appeler la direction pour porter une plainte." Bien sur, puisque "on" exclut la personne qui parle, ce fut Simone la déléguée de l'appel à la direction. Quelques instants plus tard, Simone avait négocié le nettoyage de leur chambre, l'installation d'une machine susceptible d'améliorer l'odeur de la chambre et un rabais de $100 par nuit sur le prix de leur chambre d'hôtel. "Le malheur," expliqua-t-elle alors à son mari, "C'est que les chambres en-dessous des nôtres sont des chambres fumeur et la fumée risque de monter à nouveau chez nous." "Bof," le mari de Simone haussa les épaules. "On appelera la direction une nouvelle fois si c'est insoutenable." On? Oui. "On".

Eating out...

New Year's Eve in New York City... The day revolved around shopping and food, what else? While the 20 year olds toured the city at their own pace, Simone, hubby and little B strolled around the clothing district, hunting for (and finding) some beautiful outfits. All that walking made them hungry, and tired, particularly in little B's case. So they popped into the Mesa Grill just as staff was getting ready to shut down their lunch menu. Fortunately for Simone, they allowed them to sit and order food, in spite of the five minutes until shutdown time. After a hearty salad, Simone was ready to go again. More importantly, little B's wilting spirits had also been revived. "But I want to go back to the hotel now," he declared. "No more shopping." Okay. Simone was all shopped out anyhow. Besides, they had reservations at Tribeca Grill for dinner and the 20 year olds were due to meet them there in less than three hours. Perhaps there'd be time for a little nap? No. There wouldn't be a nap time for Simone. Time to play with little B though, and that was even better. They got to the restaurant just in time for their reservation: the place was empty at 5:30 pm! Hubby craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Robert De Niro but no luck. Even as the restaurant filled with more and more people, hubby could catch

no sign of the famous movie star. Still, the food was excellent and they were back at the hotel - in a cab that actually stopped when they waved it down!!! - before 9 pm. Hmmm... Should they stay up until midnight? Yawn... Huh? Yawn... Goodnight!

NYC madness

The first thing on the agenda, once Simone, hubby, little B, the 20 year old and his girlfriend had settled their suitcases in the brand spanking new renovated bedrooms of their hotel was to take a walk toward Times Square. Little B had the itinerary all mapped out: "We're going to the Toys 'R Us and we're going to ride the ferris wheel and then we're going to eat a hot dog and then we're going to come back to the hotel." It sounded like a good plan. The group headed out, with the 20 year olds taking off in their own direction the moment they spotted stores that sold musical instruments. In spite of the growing crowd, Simone, hubby and little B persevered in their quest. As they neared Times Square, the crowd got thicker. In fact, there were so many people that walking slowed to a crawl, with some pushing their way through. Usually they were on the short side, the ones that pushed through - not kids, just short. And that's something coming from Simone, as she barely tops 5 feet 3... After two fights nearly erupted between hubby and other irate walkers, they finally reached their destination. Little B was jubilant! "The ferris wheel! Let's go on the ferris wheel!" Of course, the line up was so long that the staff at Toys 'R Us were taking reservations for rides an hour and a half later. Simone sighed and suggested hopefully that perhaps they might want to come back tomorrow instead? But hubby shook his head. "Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. Are you sure you want to come here on New Year's Eve?" Point well taken. Besides, they were in a toy store: there'd be lots of activities here to keep the little guy interested. But, um, could we order food from room service instead of standing in line to buy a dog from a cart? Phew!

Le restaurant Porcini

Simone, son mari et le petit B arrivèrent au restaurant de bonne heure pour une fois. Ils attendirent, coincés entre les deux portes d'entrée que leur table se libèrent, après avoir informé le restaurateur qu'ils seraient deux moins que prévu. "Quand ma belle-mère m'a dit que le restaurant était mignon comme tout, ça voulait dire tout petit, sans doute," nota Simone. "Dans les agences immobilières, c'est le code, en effet," approuva le mari de Simone. Simone et son mari venait tout juste de s'asseoir que Papa et sa femme arrivèrent. Embrassade et on passa rapidement à la commande: Simone et sa belle-mère avait très faim! Le repas fut exquis. Même le petit B, qui avait pourtant déjà bien mangé, avala toutes ses pâtes. Il faut dire qu'elles étaient bonnes. Quelle super belle soirée! Il ne restait qu'à espérer qu'au lendemain, les jeunes de 20 ans seraient bel et bien au rendez-vous...

Flight Fiasco

Simone, hubby and little B left Toronto early in the day on a flight bound for Philly. The 20 year old and his girlfriend were due to fly out later to meet them in Philly before they could all proceed toward New York the next day. Hubby was going to pick the "kids" up from the airport with their rented vehicle. Unfortunately, their flight got delayed due to bad weather. This meant that they would just make it in time for the meal scheduled that evening in Philly with Simone's dad. If they took a cab. The kids were rerouted to Ottawa. But the weather messed their arrival time and they missed their connecting flight to Philadelphia. They were then told that they might be able to arrive shortly before midnight in Philly if they rerouted once again. Hubby heroically agreed to stay up late to go pick them up from the airport. However once they flew back to Toronto, the pair once again... missed their connecting flight. This was a problem because, bright and early the morrow, Simone and hubby had planned to head to NYC. "Tell 'em to fly you to Newark!" Barked hubby into his cell. Hey... Not a bad idea, that one! Simone and hubby need only drive to NYC at the scheduled time, pick up the kids on the way in Newark and voilà! Le tour est joué! Not to mention that the airline company pitched in a free hotel stay in Toronto and food vouchers for the 20 year olds so nobody got left out in the cold!

What to do, oh what to do?

Four days off approached quickly and Simone's hubby asked again what Simone thought they should do. Simone hemmed and hawed but in the end, she mentioned their old standby: NYC. "You're sure you don't mind going again?" Hubby asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "We go every year." He hesitated. "I really like going but if you're mentioning NYC and you'd rather go somewhere else..." Simone, who'd been thinking of nothing other than NYC smiled reassuringly. And so the trip was booked.

Les livres

Le garçon de 20 ans avait déniché une aubaine: la fille des amis à Simone n'avait plus besoin des ses bouquins pour l'examen pour les écoles de médecine. Elle était prête à les lui vendre pour un prix dérisoire. Le fiston jubilait! "Tu peux me conduire chez eux?" Demanda-t-il à sa mère. "J'ai l'impression que ça risque d'être lourd, tout ces livres." En effet, chaque livre devait peser un minimum de 5 livres! Enfin, des livres anglaises. Oh et puis tant pis. C'était très lourd finalement.

Wrapping Christmas up early

It had to be done. The renovations were set to begin again in earnest and, truly, there was no room for a Christmas tree filled to its pins with decorations. So Simone grabbed the boxes that the decorations get stored in every year, a pile of newspaper (thankfully, she had lots this time due to the timely arrival of Boxing Day flyers) and duly called the kids. They were excited. Actually excited. They were getting to help take down the Christmas decorations. Simone decided to look this blessed gift horse in the mouth and skillfully maneuvered her troops into action. "You! Bring me the nativity scene characters one by one. No. Not you, little B. Little B, you can bring me the Santa Claus." Because the nativity scene is highly breakable and the Santa Claus is made of cloth. The children fetched, removed and deposited various Christmas decorations into Simone's fast moving hands. She in turn wrapped, boxed and put away decorations. "The last to go is the street scene," Simone said, pleased at how fast the entire process had gone. "Um, what about the wreath?" The 13 year old asked hesitantly. Simone turned and looked and the miles of wreath and lights wrapped around the huge circular banister that lined the staircase. Okay. Maybe they weren't done - but they were close. Teamwork rocks!

Les journaux

Voilà! Le meuble était vendu. Mais là, il y avait un hic. Le meuble était rempli à craquer de verres et il faudrait bien les caser quelque part. Mais où? Ah. Oui. Le garage. Sauf qu'il faudrait bien les envelopper et, manque de pot, il ne restait plus de papier journal puisque le camion de recyclage venait de passer. Enfin, presque plus. Simone se mit à emballer les verres mais bientôt, il fallut se rendre à l'évidence. Elle serait rapidement en manque. Hop! Elle se dirigea chez les voisins. Les gentils d'abord. Puisqu'ils ne faisaient pas souvent le ménage, elle se doutait bien qu'il y aurait des journaux chez eux. Paf! Dans leur boite à lettres, il y avait déjà deux journaux. Elle les récupéra et, un peu honteuse, fila en douce. Les deux journaux ne suffirent pas. Puisqu'elle avait volé les journaux des gentils, pas question de retourner chez eux en quête de plus. Donc passage obligatoire chez les "méchants". Qui, pour une fois, étaient de bonne humeur et refilèrent 7 journaux à Simone. Ouf! Sauvée! Et tous les verres furent emballés et casés dans le garage. Pas trop tôt, car déjà les acheteurs du meuble arrivaient pour récupérer leur bien...

Dog grooming

"I'm having the devil of a time grooming the dogs," Simone admitted to her friend. "It takes two of us to groom one dog and they're so small! I usually hold the dog while D does the grooming because I'm way better at holding and she is infinitely better at clipping their fur." "Have you tried standing them up on the counter with a couple of treats ready for them?" Simone's friend asked. "Are you out of your mind?" Simone's eyes bulged. "We can barely hold them as it is! You think that standing them up on the counter will work? That they'll stay there while I groom them?" Simone's friend shrugged. "It's what I always did with my dog and it worked just fine." Yeah. Crazy idea... Except that Simone, because she'll try most things once, tried it and it worked: the dogs stood still while she groomed them. Single-handedly. Wow.

No caroling again this year...

This year, Simone was determined to join her good friend's annual carolling expedition through the neighbourhood. Not that Simone sings even remotely well - but the appeal of joining a group to spread some Christmas cheer through music overwhelmed her. Sadly, it wasn't meant to be. "I won't be able to go. Again," sighed Simone on the phone. "What's wrong this year?" Simone's friend asked. "Little B has the flu. We were both set on going but he keeps puking plus he's got as much energy as a slug right now. He's on the couch, barely moving an eyelid." Both friends sighed in unison. "Could you come by yourself maybe?" Simone's friend suggested. Simone contemplated this possibility for a few moments before turning it down. She'd never feel right leaving her sick kid at home. His joy would have been infectious. His absence was unfathomable. And to think that once upon a time, before kids, Simone thought her life was complicated...

Malaaaade!!

Le petit B ne se sentait pas bien. Il mangea tout de même tout ce qu'il y avait dans son assiette avant de s'endormir dans le fauteuil du salon. Simone le porta jusqu'à dans son lit. À deux heures du matin, Simone se réveilla brusquement. Elle entendait un bruit insolite dans le couloir. Elle se leva et se retrouva devant le petit B. Celui-ci vomissait. Et vomissait encore. Il se promenait à l'étage, sur la moquette blanche, et vomissait, ses mains devant sa bouche comme si cela allait retenir la marée qui remontait avec une régularité effrayante. Simone le dirigea vers les toilettes. Une fois l'exercice terminé, Simone le déshabilla et lui fit prendre un bain rapide avant de lui faire enfiler un pyjama propre. Elle l'installa dans son lit à elle et puis se mit à nettoyer. Car le petit B avait mangé... des fraises. Et sa promenade nocturne, qui avait débuté dans son lit à lui, avait laissé des traces rouge vif, parsemées ici et là sur la moquette. À quatre heures du matin, Simone y était encore. Vive les mamans gâtées!

Holidays

Holidays tend to be a mess around Simone's house. There are negotiations to be made with one party, regarding the sharing of two children. There are negotiations with another party, regarding the sharing of three children. There are negotiations with the older generations, regarding the sharing of their grandchildren. There are negotiations with grown children and their significant others. And, lately, to spice the lot a little, there are renovations. If everyone manages to get together in one place at one time without fireworks, blood or screams, Simone will be immensely grateful. Okay? Okay.

Une petite intervention chirurgicale

Simone s'est retrouvée à l'hôpital hier pour une petite intervention. Quatre heures d'attente par rapport à une intervention de 10 minutes mais là, maintenant, tout va bien. Un brin de fatigue. Un mari qui s'occupe de tout: de la cuisine, de la lessive et des enfants. Pas si mal, non? Bon, Simone ne va pas se faire opérer tous les mois mais elle y pense...

Let's entertain!

Simone sighed happily as the couple who'd bought her kitchen table carried the last chair out and loaded it into the back of their pick up truck. Hubby, with his throbbing, painful foot, would no longer be forced to sit on a too high chair, thus doubling his pain.

She dialled the number of the furniture store where they'd purchased their new table and informed them that they could deliver the new table any time.

"Um," the voice at the end of the line hesitated.

"Yes?" Simone's voice took on an edge as she glimpsed a problem on the horizon.

"Well, it's like this," said the woman. "When you ordered the table, we had oodles of them in stock but now, we seem to have sold all of them and they're on back order and so you can't really have your table after all."

"Really?" Simone's nostrils flared. "That isn't acceptable. We paid for the table. We were assured it would be available any time we wanted it or else I would not have sold my existing table so quickly! I'm expecting guests in a couple of weeks. And where are we supposed to eat now for... How long until my table comes in?"

"Um," the woman coughed. "Probably at least a month." Her voice lowered to a near whisper. "Maybe two."

"Completely unacceptable," noted Simone. "Is it at all possible for your store to lend me the display model? I need a table. We'll have to keep the display model until our table comes in, of course..."

"Oh!" The woman's voice sounded pleased as she reached for this buoy. "The display model! Of course! Of course! Yes, yes. You could absolutely keep it until your table arrives. The display model. When can we deliver it to you?"

"How about this afternoon?" Simone smiled once again, pleased that a workable solution had been achieved.

"Absolutely! Absolutely! Consider it done!"

...

"Here's your table, Ma'am," said the delivery guy. "Can you sign here to confirm you received it?"

"Uh, sure," agreed Simone. "But where are the chairs?" She looked in vain for anything remotely resembling a seat.

"Chairs?" The delivery guy looked at her askance from behind his round, wire-rimmed glasses. "Nobody told me nothing about no chairs. They just told me to deliver a table here."

Sigh...

Noir

Simone est allée chez le coiffeur en toute confiance. Elle expliqua qu'elle voulait une coupe garçonne et une couleur de cheveux plus foncée, plus proche de sa couleur naturelle, afin d'éviter de se faire teindre les cheveux trop fréquemment. Le coiffeur obtempéra.

La coupe garçonne était délicieuse.

La couleur?

Noire.

Les cheveux de Simone étaient noirs. Pas contente, la Simone.

"Mais ça vous va à merveille," bafouilla le coiffeur. "Vous avez l'air d'une dominatrice!"

"Et si je voulais plutôt avoir l'air d'une mère de famille?" Rétorqua Simone, hors-d'elle.

Heureusement que ça pousse vite les cheveux!