warriorsavant: (Computer-steampunk)
In the book I read recently about the history of Artic exploration (about the Franklin Expedition and the search for the fabled Northwest Passage), they touched on the provision of government services to the Innuit (or lack thereof). Without going into the vast issue of Canada's and other nations', treatment of, and relations with, their aboriginal peoples, one of the points noted was that the government, even when trying to provide services, had trouble doing so, as these were nomadic/semi-nomadic people, historically with only one name. The government pushed many of them into settlements and assigned them family names. At some point, every one of them was assigned an "Innuit Number" (I think that is what it was actually called) for government ID purposes. This was later dropped as being too intrusive & dehumanizing.

Yet, in the Netherlands (and I believe all Scandanavian countries), which are highly democratic nations, everyone is assigned a national ID number from the moment of birth. The first thing associated with that number is your APGAR score and birth weight. All your medical records, school records, and tax records are keyed to that number. That makes for great demographic studies ("…all lawyers who'd had an APGAR of 9-10 at birth, currently make more than XXX Euro/year and have a low incidence of diabetes…"). To a North American, that is horribly intrusive; to them it's simple good management. The other piece of the puzzle is how to identify who goes with that number. Again, as North Americans, we would regard a government biometric database is being too intrusive, yet in India, they have recently fielded Aadhaar, a national biometric database precisely to be able to identify people for getting government services (eg welfare, nutritional support, schooling), and it is also being used to allow illiterate people access to banking and other commercial services. As it stands now, our governments do keep biometric ID, but it's limited and not very good. Looking at my driver's license, I'm a male of a certain height and weight and hair color. Well, my weight changes, and my hair is no longer brown, and I don't know anybody who actually looks much like any ID photo they have. (I laughed to myself the last time we brought Hedgefund across a border. Now age 3 years, her passport photo was from 3 months, and the Border Agent kept looking back and forth to between the picture and her.) Add to that people whose gender has changed legally. At that point, at least in Canada, they are issued new government ID's, but how do you then use that to access an old record which was under a different name and ID. We don't have a lot of nomads anymore, but what about migrant farm workers?

Seems to me combining modern biometrics with a national ID number would solve some of the "how do you get services" (governmental or commercial) issue. On the other hand, that would allow the government and commercial ventures to compile huge amount of info on us; on the other hand, they already have that, and we as individuals don't get the benefit of it.
warriorsavant: (Warriordaddy)
We, Nom & I, love doing things with Hedgefund and Wallstreet, and they love being with us. Yet thinking back, I certainly don't remember being 2 or 3 years old; I don't think anybody does. They love being read to (*smiles*) and going to the park, and being picked up & held and playing cache-cache (half hide & seek, half peekaboo, under the blankets). Nom especially does "homework" with Hedgefund, which the latter sometimes loves and sometimes doesn't, but is getting in the habit of "studying." We will remember all this achingly well, but they will not. What will they "remember?" I hope they will remember feeling loved, and protected, and being close to their parents, and being happy, which is not a bad start in life. If so, it is worth every second.
warriorsavant: (Infantry haircut)
Two things lately made me realize I'd had had enough of the Army. (Important realization when one has been retired, for, oh, 5-6 years.) No, not Hedgefund and Wallstreet, although they would have been enough to keep me from doing anything silly like trying to re-up, or deploy.

The first is talking with someone I knew from the Army. He is a full-time Reservist (called an AGR), I first knew as a Captain when he was my Adjutant (= S1 = Personnel & Admin Officer) when I Commanded a CSH (Combat Support Hospital - like a MASH, but bigger). He's now a Colonel himself, in charge of major training site (I'd trained there more than once). It was not a very happy call, in that I'd heard 3rd hand that he'd recently lost his wife of 32 years (cancer, spread quickly) and was calling to offer my condolences. We chatted for a while, and he was mentioning getting ready for 3 CSHs moving into his training site for their summer training. I was thinking, "yeah, I understand what that involves (huge planning & paperwork for those personnel and logistics) and am so glad I don't have to be doing that anymore.

The second is a book I'm reading, Christie Blatchford's Fifteen Days about her time as a reporter embedded with the Canadian Forces in Afghanistan a few years ago. I'm only so-so enjoying it. Basically war stories, I suppose good insight if you've never been there. Again, the feeling of "glad it's not me anymore." Not the getting shot at part (although not a big fan of people trying to kill me), but the moving into, and staying in, some godforsaken, dusty patch of barely habitable real estate and calling it home for the day/week/month. Nope, glad I don't have to be doing that anymore.

I did my time doing those things. Didn't mind them at the time, proud of it, very glad to have done it, but have done enough of it, and getting too long in the tooth to want to do more.
warriorsavant: (Meh)
Back to work. *Sigh* What? Only 2 consecutive weeks of vacation? What was I thinking. That retirement thing is starting to look good. Not really (thoughts triggered by contemporaries retiring will be for another post), but hard going back to work. Regardless of however much one loves one's job, it's always hard going back. The first "ugh."

Doubly hard going back because sick. The second "ugh." Ba ngaio was sick first about 2 weeks ago. She gave it to Hedgefund, who was sick when we were in NYC, and therefore restless, and kept everyone else up. She gave it to Nom & Wallstreet, the latter of whom is therefore restless (and occasionally vomiting) and keeping everyone else up, and they gave it to me. So sick, and not having slept well for a couple of weeks, yeah, rather in rocky physical shape.

The other problem with going away, especially when self-employed, is the stack of paperwork that builds up waiting for one's return. I stopped by the office three times during my time off just to answer faxes and check lab reports. Evil Secretary was away at the same time, but things come in by fax. Despite all that checking in (well, plus all the mail that had been held showed up all at once today), I still had hours of paperwork and phone calls at the end of the office. The third "ugh."

Third time's the charm? Not quite. To cap it all off, I dropped my cell phone in the toilet. Really. The waterproofing worked (plus put it in a bag of dessicants to make sure it dried out), I wiped it off well, and frankly I don't lick my cell phone that much (ever!), but it was the perfect ending to, and metaphor for, today.
warriorsavant: (Staten Island Ferry)
As mentioned, recently got back from a trip to NYC. I officially went for the AAD (American Academy of Dermatology) summer session. It's much smaller (low 1000's as opposed to 10000+ attendees) than the annual (winter) session. I prefer it. The winter session is too big, too chaotic, and really, they fill it out by the same or similar courses being given multiple times throughout the week. The summer session has many fewer courses, but just as many as I actually want to go to. After doing Dermatology for this long, if I get 1-2 tips out of each session, then it's a success for me. Now that I'm back, I'm doing what I always promised myself I'd do after a conference (and have rarely done), namely review the notes. In modern life, most of the lecturers post their handouts on-line. I've downloaded them, and am systematically going thru them and integrating into my learning program. (I have app called Anki, sort of digital flashcards, that I've found has really improved my learning, even at this late stage in my career.)

Had wanted to go down to NYC earlier, when [personal profile] ravensron  was visiting, but as mentioned, the MIL was ill for months (all better now, thanks), and I was neither going to go alone (I've become a total homebody, in case that wasn't obvious by now), nor were Nom & I going to wrangle 2 tiny ones down to, and around, NYC w/o backup. In the end, 6 people across 3 generations went. With all the spending on renovations and such, had enough travel miles for almost everyone (Wallstreet is a lap child, so almost no cost, and I paid for my ticket but is tax-deductible.)

We've taken to getting to the airport well-early (like 2+ hours before), and with 6 people holding 5 seats on 3 different bookings, I don't even pretend to use their silly kiosks, I go straight to the "I need help" counter regardless of their regulations. Oddly enough, the kids, fussy as they are, are fine on airplanes. They're practically seasoned travelers at this point. In fact, we were essentially free of travel-kerfuffles as such. The only real negatives was the MIL was just recovering from a cold, and Hedgefund seemed to have caught it, and the kids were a little feeling "why am I not at home," so everyone was restless and didn't sleep well. Had fun, but a fair amount of illness and tiredness, with commensurate lack of energy.

Got into the hotel (stayed at the conference hotel in midtown) too late to do anything except bed down. Each morning I got up early, went to the conference while everyone else breakfasted and relaxed and strolled around, then I joined them for lunch.

It was Restaurant Week in NYC, and we'd booked some good lunches, but didn't always follow through in the end. For good restaurants, we ate at Capital Grill and Ruth's Chris. Both are chains (steakhouses as it happens), but high end chains, and their NY outlets are especially lovely and very good food. Although the in-laws don't always have the most elevated tastes, they do appreciate when we take them some place with standard food done very well, and with lovely decore. At their age, after all they've been thru in life, I'm glad they are getting some enjoyment.

Did a few "NY things" of course. However, for the kids, the highlight was WWC bringing two kittens up to the hotel room for them to play with. HF always liked cats (since WWC introduced her to same), but she especially loved kittens, what with their being tiny. She use to be afraid of animals, especially dogs, but after enough times of my telling her, "we eat dogs, yum, yum, yum," now she usually just gives me a knowing smile when she sees a dog. It unsettles people when they hear me tell her that, but it worked, she's not scared anymore. WS has gotten a bit afraid of animals, he's so tiny yet, and also not verbally-oriented enough yet to understand about eating dogs, but I'll work on him.

Was hoping to get together with more friends and family, but didn't work out, except for one of my Army buddies who joined us for dinner, and then he & I had some drinks afterwards. Everyone else either couldn't make it, or just didn't respond when I emailed.

Have to see one show in NY. Ended up at an off-broadway piece called The Marvelous Wonderettes. Described to us as "campy fun." It was neither. It's basically a thin story of 4 girls who have formed a local singing group, woven around a review of 1950's and 1960's songs. The 1st act is their performing at their HS graduation, and the 2nd is their performing at the 10 year reunion. They were trying to be to 1950/60's pop music what Mama Mia was to Abba, but failed miserably.

For museums, went to NY Historical Society. They had several exhibits WWC & I wanted to see:
     The first was about WWI. They had historical reenactors in WWI uniforms in the lobby. It was a good exhibit. A bit grim (hard to be otherwise about WWI) and a bit preachy/politically correct at times, but worth seeing.
     There was a really nice exhibit of Tiffany lamps. They were from a private collection, someone who'd started collecting them when they first stopped being stylish (1920's) and amassed over 200. I love Tiffany's works, but I've seen so many of them by now that's it less striking to me.
     Eloise at the Plaza was featured. I hadn't realized that it had started as a comic cabaret act, and the book came later. Brief but enjoyable.
     The last exhibit was one WWC really wanted to see, called Saving Washington. It was supposed to be about the contributions of women to the US Revolutionary War and the early days of the Republic, but actually rather thin except for the parts about Dolly Madison. (Wife of 4th President James Madison, the first person to make "First Lady" a notable position, and the ultimate Hostess-who-advanced-and-agenda.)
     Overall, NYHS was worth the visit, but not as fullfilling as hoped for.

Last touristy thing we did was the Circle Line Cruise. It's a cruise/tour boat that circles Manhattan Island, while giving a commentary on what you are seeing. I'd always wanted to do it, but never had. WWC had done that in 4th grade, which is a good age to do it, or if you're from out-of-town. It's ideal then, before you've seen all the sites 100's of times and know them better than the tour guides. The bambini were too young to enjoy it, and not sure how the in-laws reacted. I'm glad I finally got to do it, even if not OMG-exciting.

That last sentence seems to sum up this trip from a vacation point-of-view. (Great from a medical conference POV.) We're glad we did it. Everyone had a good time (except for the sick and tired parts) and saw/did some new things. Not awe-inspiriing, but worth doing.
warriorsavant: (Books (Trinity College Library))
I love bookstores and libraries. To me, the central reading room of a great library is like the nave of a cathedral (icon is Long Room at the library of Trinity College, Dublin). The problem for me is that I get brain-lock. I want to buy everything, but since I can't, I'm almost afraid to buy anything. What if it isn't the best choice? Actually, these days I find myself going more mid-brow, both at bookstores and libraries. I confess I hadn't even been visiting libraries much past 2-3 years, partly because so busy (dang kids, they interfere with my reading and my drinking!), and partly because the library nearest us isn't very good. We recently inscribed ourselves in the library where we'll be moving, which is much better, but still rather disappointed in 2 of the last 3 books I borrowed from there.

What triggered going to a bookstore was finding my stash of "lucky money." Vietnamese New Year tradition, the elders give everyone else a coin or small bill in a red envelope to bring luck and prosperity in the new year. I always felt that I should use it for something special, and put it away in a drawer - several years' worth when I came across it recently. Still not a huge sum, but enough to actually buy something. I metaphorically scratched my head, and decided a book was the ideal item.

I had a dental appointment, and I knew there was a bookstore nearby, so planned to stop there on the way home. Going into the store, I hit the brain-lock, and realized part of that was insufficient caffeine. Fortunately they had a coffee shop attached. Unfortunately it was a certain Seattle-based major chain, but drug addicts in withdrawal beggars can't be choosers. I ordered a cappuccino, and the counter clerk (I refuse to call them "barristas" - get real people) asked me something incomprehensible. After the 3rd repeat, I realized he was asking, "Name for your cup?" which still didn't make any sense to me. I've named my children (some silly legal requirement here). I used to name my computers, but got over that. Hedgehogs have names, of course, and they chomp your nose if you don't remember them. But I didn't see why I needed to name a coffee cup, especially a disposable one. Eventually he managed to communicate that he was asking my name, which he would then write on the cup, so they could call me out the huge crowd of… well, actually, I was the only person ordering coffee just then, but I suppose SOP.

Caffeine finally perking thru my system, I spent some lovely time browsing, and eventually settled on 2 books (more than my lucky money covered, but I had some standard money on me also). One was about Canadian Soldiers in Afghanistan, written by a reporter who had been embedded with a unit, and one was a popular science book on astrophysics. (Only downside is that it was written by Neil DeGrass Tyson, who although is an eminent scientist, and very good at popular explanations of science, also lead the evil movement that down-graded Pluto from a Disney character planet.) Looking forward to reading them, as soon as finish the last book I'd borrowed from the library, which is about expeditions to find the remains of the Franklin Expedition (for the non-Canadians/non-Artic history buffs in the crowd: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franklin%27s_lost_expedition ) I'm a firm believer that if you have books and coffee, the world can't be too bad.
warriorsavant: (Time)
Just got back from a tax-deductible excuse to take a short vacation medical conference(1) in The Island at the Center of the World(2). More on the trip itself in another post; this post is about identities. Was almost going to say had some identity crisis, but more identity realizations.

New Yorker )

Soldier )

Doctor )

Family Man )

New Yorker, Soldier, Doctor, Family Man. Not a bad CV.



(Footnotes) )
warriorsavant: (Composite)
I've been following the health care circus debate in the US.


Three facts and let you draw your own conclusion:
1. As you may know, I practice medicine in Canada, under one of those "horribly flawed, make you wait endlessly, crappy socialist medical systems."
2. I'm a physician, have my own practice which also makes me a small business owner, retired military including many years as a Commander. Bottom line of this pount is that I'm very much a bottom line kind of guy, both by nature and by experience/training
3. The average Canadian lives 3-1/2 years longer than the average American. Pre-Medicare, the difference was only 3-4 months.

Bottom line: who wants to live over 3 years longer?
warriorsavant: (Springtime in Canada)
Some years back, to get a passport in Canada, you had to have it signed by a "guarantor " someone who knew you for at least 2 years, held a Canadian passport and was considered a respectable member of civil society, such as post master, school principal, or physician. I was happy to do it, was kinda cool. Later, for a while, I didn't have a Canadian passport (the US Army felt it was incompatible with my having a US security clearance), so couldn't anymore. By the time I got out of the Army and again got a Canadian passport, they had changed the rules to make it more egalitarian (or something), and any Canadian citizen and passport holder could do it.

Something similar about marriages. (Touched on this around time I married Nom, but bears repeating because analogous.) Years ago marriages could only be officiated by clergy. In New France, that meant Roman Catholic, later any clergy. Later, any clergy or civil official (eg a judge). In Quebec, following a form of French Civil Code, you could also be married by a Notary. (Note: In Roman-derived systems, a Notary is not just someone who witnesses signatures, a Notary is a type of Lawyer. Notaries do non-contested legal matters, such as wills and deeds, somewhat like an English Solicitor.) More recently, the option for "presiding official" was broadened to "any citizen in good standing." (I think "good standing" means "not currently in jail.") If you went that route, you submitted the name to city hall, they checked the standing of said citizen, then sent him the "how to" guide. We were originally going to have Nom's brother do it, but then had second thoughts. First of all, no telling how long it would have taken city hall to get the documents to BIL. Second, although he's a bright man, he's never done this, and we didn't want to risk he'd make some minor but crucial error in the bureaucratic paperwork. In the end, we had my Notary come to our place and do the legal parts ceremony (not to mention all the paperwork). I actually rather liked that we were taking part in a "traditional" way of doing things. In addition to the bits of Buddhist ceremony, Jewish ceremony, and jumping over the broom. (Yup, married x 4, and all to the same woman.)
warriorsavant: (Composite)
It will come as no surprise to my Gentle Readers that I'm a "wee bit" obsessional. Part is my medical training, part is my Army background, and part is, well, uh, just always been that way. Believe it or not, Evil Secretary is worse than I am.

Most of our billing is paperless/cashless via the Quebec Medicare system. There are some sundry charges. Even today, some people actually pay cash for them (ask your grandparents, younger generation), plus there's always some need for petty cash in an office, so we always need to have on hand a number of small bills. For time-to-time, when I'm at the bank, I pick up a packet of small bills. Banks usually give you the money all facing the same way, and ordered by denomination. (Although I've noticed they've been getting lazy about that "all facing the same way" thing. Bah humbug on modern life, those slackers.) One time, some years back, I'd dropped the envelope of neatly-arranged bills, and being a hurry, just stuffed them back in willly-nilly. When I got to the office and handed them to Evil Secretary, she accused me of deliberately messing up the order to play with her head. No, I didn't have the time to do that. She then immediately started to put them in order. At that time, Canada was in the middle of changing over the design of the bills, so there were two different versions of most denominations in circulation. I realized that she was not only facing them all alike, and putting them in order of denomination, she was separating the old and new billls of the same denomination. I laughed at her for that.
"Oh, like you don't in your wallet?" she asked indignantly.
"No."
"I don't believe you," she scoffed.
"Really."
"I don't believe you. Give me your wallet."
I handed her my wallet. She actually pulled all the money out of it, and rearranged it. She wasn't joking, it really bugged her that my wallet wasn't in the "proper" order. I almost fell on the floor laughing.

Today, I brought in another packet of small bills for petty cash (all $5's of current design). She grabbed it and started checking if it was in order, "good, you lined them up already."
"It came that way from the bank. What are you going to do now, put them in order of serial number?"
"No," she scoffed. A moment's quiet shuffling of paper. "Hey, they are in order of serial number." She was actually delighted - and yes, she had actually checked when I'd teased her.
I looked over the bills. They were sequentially numbered. They must have been from a series of new bills that were being put into circulation. Regardless, it actually made her day that the pettty cash was in perfect order for once.
Bwahahaha.
warriorsavant: (Renovations)
Part of the beauty of the house was the old woodwork. Well, once you stripped away a century of varnish and grime. You can really appreciate the depth and pattern of the woodgrain. Here's some of the doors (it's the end of the main hallway, powder room on the left, wardrobe on the right, which is the one with the more interesting woodgrain).

Picture 1 - long view )

Coming in a little closer, you can really start to appreciate the beauty of the woodgrain

A bit closer )

Coming in still closer, your mind's eye actually makes it look like imagines of something, like you "see" in tree grain, or clouds. (Sorry, this one's a little out of focus, but you can still get the impression.)

Closer still, your eyes play tricks on you. )

I think I mentioned that this is a wardrobe door. In fact, it's a double-ended wardrobe. One door opens to the front hallway, the other opens to the family room. So in fact, it's a wardrobe that is also a passage. Sound familiar?

Look again )

*Chuckle*


warriorsavant: (Books (Trinity College Library))
(Wrote this 2 months ago and forgot to post it.)
Read Rob Edelmar & Audrey E. Kupferberg's Angela Lansbury: A Life on Stage & Screen. I found it on the used book table maintained by the volunteers at JGH. Not bad, but a little prone to breathlessly discussing famous actors and such that Lansbury had interacted with, who are totally unknown to me.

Lansbury is perhaps best known for her role as Jessica Fletcher in the long-running TV series Murder She Wrote, but her career spanned more than 70 years. I loved Murder She Wrote, but rather forgot about Lansbury when it went off the air. Then some years back, I saw a Broadway production of Blythe Spirit with CSM, WWC, and Dad. (Eight-ten years ago? Possibly posted about it then.) We frequently went to shows when CSM & I were in town for Army Reserve weekends, and picked Blythe Spirit for 2 reasons: WWC had been in an amateur production 20(?) years before that, and (b) Angela Lansbury! It was a rather low energy part, but she was in her 80's by then. Reading the Playbill, I realized that the first time Lansbury had been on Broadway was the year I was born.

She came from a family of actors and politicians, of English and Irish descent, later coming to the US (originally to avoid the Blitz in London). One the first fulltime performing gigs she had was a 6 week cabaret run in Montreal. She never played the ingénue, lacking classic beauty, but played just about everything else, from bit part to character actor to star, on stage, big screen, and TV. From all accounts received, as a person she was also a class act.
warriorsavant: (Time)
I'm writing this during my lunch break on my monthly consulting at Ste Anne's (veterans hospital). It's effecting me today for some reason (coming down sick? kids fussy? not enough sleep? thinking about my dad? feeling my age? all of the above?)

I look often look at the page in the patients file that briefly mentions their wartime (WW II) service. One wrote laconically in a shaky hand, "43 trips to Germany in a Lancaster" (heavy bomber). That's 43 chances to die screaming, falling through the air with your body on fire. Others were on the ill-fated raid on Dieppe, or landed at Normandie. Enjoy your trip to the beach, every square inch has more guns targeted on it than any place ever in the history of the world. Don't worry about applying sunscreen, you won't live long enough to need it.

But they did live. Lived through a hell that makes my 32 years of service look like a walk in the park. Lived to become old, infirm, often demented, wearing diapers, unable to stand up unaided. Do I weep for their past and present, or my future, or for all of us. Sic transit gloria miles.
warriorsavant: (Warriordaddy)
Hedgefund is often slow to warm up to doing things. When she does do finally do something, we encourage and applaud her, "Bravo, Hedgefund, bravo!" I think it initially took me 15 minutes to teach/get her to go down a slide. Now she adores it. She also adores playing with rocks. Today she was on a kiddie slide, which like many such, had two slides next to each other. She was going down one while 'teaching' her rock to go down the other. When it 'successfully' reached the bottom, she praise it, "Bravo, rock, bravo!" She does have a strong nurturing side.
warriorsavant: (Space-horsehead nebula)
Just light out enough to see the rain pounding down outside my windows. Lightning flashing, thunder crashing, trees whipping in the wind. Moving away now, but a few minutes ago was centered right over our building. Beautiful. Part of me wanted to be out in it and be part of the storm.
warriorsavant: (Warriordaddy)
As his moniker indicates, Nom is planning a career in high finance for him. I'm planning on the Army and Medicine.
Kids always have their own ideas. It's beginning to look like fashion design. I was holding him, and he was drooling on my shirt. Systematically. He work up some saliva, then press his face for against my shirt, then repeat it in another spot. Haut coutrier. Either that, or he was marking me as his. At least he wasn't piddling on me. Oh wait, he's done that too. Sigh. Time will tell.

Eggendum

Jul. 6th, 2017 11:27 am
warriorsavant: (Default)
Mentioned the small/hobby farm raised eggs my patients gave me. Tried them over the weekend. Wow! What a difference. Just looking at them when they were cracked open showed a difference. The whites were less runny, and the yolks a deeper color. That can be from the strain of chickens or maybe the feed (where I was in Japan in 2011, the yolks were orange), but could also have just shown their higher quality. The taste was definitely richer than supermarket eggs, and I was more full after eating them. In past I've also had butter from small farms, and that too had a richer and fuller taste.
warriorsavant: (Wedding/Romance)
Evil Secretary had some family issues today, so we had booked lightly to allow me to see patients while also signing them in and out. (Answer phones? Heck no. That's almost a full time job itself.) I've done it before. It's stressful, I'm hopping around like a one-legged paper hanger, but doable.

In a switch, Nom got her parents to come babysit and came by to help me. It made life much easier, although hard to resist the urge to smooch/fondle the help. She didn't do everything Evil Secretary normally does, but did a lot, which was great. Plus got to have lunch with my lovely wife during a working day.

When we got home, the kids were delighted to see us. Uh, deep down. Hedgefund was napping, and Wallstreet exclaimed "no!" and went to find his grandparents. After all, we only mostly indulge and spoil them, the grandparents completely do. All parties concerned loved it, but I think the PIL's then go home and lie down for 10 hours to recover.
warriorsavant: (Infantry haircut)
See last post and reverse the concepts.
warriorsavant: (Springtime in Canada)
 Happy Canada Day to all. (Although I understand my Gentle Readers to the south celebrate it a bit late. And by a different name. And I have no clue about those of you in the antipodes.) It's the 150th birthday for the True North Brave and Free. 

 

It was rainy most of the day, finally cleared late afternoon, so took the kids over to the celebration in the park near to where we are moving. It was noisy and there were no swings, so they didn't like it, so we got some munchies from one of the two food trucks and moved to the other side of the park where it was quiet(er) and they did have swings and such. A good time was had by all, especially the under-three-foot-tall set. 

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