Honeymoon Revisited

I’ve had pamphlets from several of Montreal’s sights sitting around in the hopes that I would finally blog about our honeymoon. Now, as I’m struggling to get all boxes unpacked and all my junk organized, it’s time to finally get it done. I don’t remember the order of events but I do remember all the big sights. Here goes.

We spent our honeymoon night in Boston; we had a fabulous and very expensive buffet brunch there on Sunday before heading off to Canada. I had never been to Canada, but I had tried to get there several times before. I had planned to go for my 29th birthday, but that was just days after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, which put the kibbosh on that trip. Then there was the time at Niagara Falls when I was within spitting distance of the Canadian shore but didn’t have my passport handy.

They say that three times is the charm, but I didn’t quite believe we’d make it to Montreal. I thought the car would break down or some other thing would keep us from going, and as a matter of fact, we came very close to having a car accident. While en route, a minivan on the other side of the highway lost control and started rolling over across the median. If it hadn’t lost so much speed once it hit the grass, it would have hit us. I can still visualize it flipping over and over and over again. It was a terrifying scene and it seemed at the time that it did not bode well for our trip.

We made it to Montreal without further incident, however, and what’s more we had a good time, even though our stay was brief. We visited the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal, whose interior may well be the most beautiful I have ever seen in a church.

notre-dame-basilica

They were tuning the pipe organ while we were there. Oddly, the same thing happened years ago during our visit to Westminster Abbey in London, and I can only assume it is God’s way of punishing me for something, perhaps for not going to church except as a tourist.

We also went to the Biodôme (not to be confused with the Biosphère) and Le Parc olympique de Montréal. At the Biodome, I most enjoyed watching the lynx. They are very cool cats. At the Parc Olympique, we took the funicular (awesome word!) to the observation tower.  According to the literature, “Par temps clair, on peut admirer le paysage jusqu’à 80 kilomètres à la ronde.” Pardon my French, but that means something like, “On clear days, you can see up to 50 miles all around.” It was not the clearest day, but it was an autumn day, and anywhere there was a bunch of trees there was a blast of color.

At the Insectarium de Montréal, they offered to let us hold a spider (we declined). The nearby Jardin Botanique de Montréal was my favorite part of the trip. There we saw the call of nature in action—a fox doing his business on the plants. Hey, he was just your local animal doing his best to keep the garden green. We had tea and some sort of Asian sesame pastry at the Chinese Garden, a place for which I wish I had some pictures. Perhaps Faithful Reader has some on his camera.

Last but not least, we took a walk along the Old Port. Here is the Tour de l’horloge (Clock Tower).

montreal-clock-tower

You can see gulls in the picture. Some of them were playing with what looked like little red rubber balls but which were actually cherries. Once we realized how much they liked the fruit, we amused ourselves for a while by picking cherries and tossing them to the birds.

And here, a pretty last picture to leave you with, a demonstration of how colorful was the fall foliage around the time of our wedding.

montreal-foliage1

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Seeing Is Believing

Here is the proof that I went out to the deck the other day.

snow-smiley

But you can also take it as my personal statement on life.

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Our New Car

I told you about the death of my old car, but not about the adoption of the new one. Here it is, our beautiful new car.

new-car

It’s a lovely metallic-blue Maxima with all the goodies inside–heated leather seats, heated steering wheel, dual climate control, moon roof, etc.. It is a used car, a fact which I find myself pointing out to everyone because of the Maxima’s exorbitant sticker price, but it feels like a new car to me.

We got a great deal on it. I can’t say we weren’t naughty, though. For less than what the insurance company gave us, we could have gotten a Civic similar to our old one. That would have been an incredible deal, don’t you think? But we wanted something bigger and nicer, so we spent a little extra.

Sure, it costs more to insure and to fill up at the pump, but while I’m driving on very cold days it keeps my butt toasty warm, and that’s all that matters.

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Dreamers of Dreams

While sorting through the things in one of our many moving boxes, I found a photocopy of a poem. I made the copy because a couple of the lines from this poem were used in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and I wanted to read the original verse. Here for your enjoyment is the best part of it.

From “Ode” by Arthur O’Shaughnessy–

We are the music-makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;–
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

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Bigger Belly

My belly grew last night while I was sleeping. Really. Some mornings when I wake up my belly is noticeably bigger than it was the night before. It’s not just my imagination. It’s pregnancy, and it’s weird!

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Joke’s On Me

Isn’t it funny, especially at a time when the stock market is in the tank, that the word BROKERAGE can be separated into BROKE RAGE? I don’t know about you, but my stock portfolio has definitely made me poorer and sorer!

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On the Move

We moved on Sunday. I had my doubts up until the moment that I saw the U-Haul truck with my own eyes. Then I knew we were finally going to get it done.

Faithful Reader’s family really came through for us. They were troopers and put up with a lot, including stairs at both ends of the move, ice on the ground, and this very dirty house that’s still under construction. All they got in return was our thanks and some pizza. The pizza was good, but we’ll have to come up with some additional gift. We owe them bigtime.

The house was not quite as ready as I had hoped it would be, but we had no choice but to move. To sacrifice the rent on the apartment while paying for the mortgage out of our own pockets was costing us dearly, and let’s not talk about heat and property taxes. In restrospect, I wonder if we might have done better to hire an additional worker. We could have paid that guy all the money we saved by not straddling homes and had our house finished now. Who knows if that would have helped? There’s no way to be sure. Done is done, after all.

So here I am on Wednesday feeling mopey and sorry for myself, thinking about could-haves and don’t-haves, which is never a good idea. Faithful Reader insists that I go outside, so I’m going outside for a few minutes. Perhaps it will lighten my mood….

I went outside (if you don’t believe me, Faithful Reader, I made a smiley face just for you in the snow on the deck). The temperature was starting to turn. Every warm puff of spring air was followed by a chill reminder of winter, but it was still pleasant. I love living amongst the trees. The other night, the light of the full moon shining on the snow between the trees was enchanting. It made me feel welcome. Warm or cold, day or night, the woods are beautiful.

Moving was a pain, and living in an unfinished house continues to be a pain, but what matters is how it all turns out in the end. This is the right place for us and we are going to be very happy here.

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Secret Stash

The cats bring so much extra to my life. Extra work, that is. I thought I had finished packing up my office in preparation for our big move tomorrow. Then I looked under the desk and found the cats’ secret stash of office supplies. The tally:

  • 1 bottle of liquid paper
  • 1 paper clamp
  • 2 erasers
  • 2 paperclips
  • 5 pencils
  • 5 pens, including a red pen and a yellow highlighter (I guess they like a little color)

This sounds like quite a hoard of stuff, but it’s nothing compared to what I found under the oven when I lived in the condo. There they had hidden a bunch of lighters and a full pack of cigarettes!

Looking on the bright side, though they may not have given up their evil ways, at least they quit smoking.

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Purrfect

My Faithful Reader asked me today if I was happy with the name we had given our cat, Peeps. I said I was. Just a few hours later, she let out the most beautiful peep I had ever heard, so adorable and welcoming, that I just had to pick her up and hug her. Yes, Peeps is the perfect name for her.

peeps

Peeps, the Perfectly Named Cat

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Yawping Mad

I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.-–Walt Whitman

Tuesday morning I sounded my barbaric yawp across the bed. OK, maybe it wasn’t so much a yawp as a shriek, and maybe not so much in manly affirmation as womanly irritation, but it still felt good. Sometimes you just have to scream your bloody head off, and when you’ve got crazy hormones and a large supply of pent-up rage, it’s one of those times.

My rage had been stoked on Monday. Faithful Reader and I were arguing. Over what, I don’t recall (perhaps he was breathing too loudly or something). He left and slammed the door and I got so mad that I wanted to throw something. First I picked up my cup of tea. No, I thought, there’s sugar in the tea, which will be sticky, and the cup will break and cut the cats’ paws. I put it down and grabbed a box of paperclips. No, I thought, the box will break open, the paper clips will go everywhere, and the cats will eat them. Damn. So I picked up a stapler. Too heavy; it will gouge the door. The last thing I thought to throw was a cat, but by then I was so frustrated that I just started crying, lucky for Mojo, the nearest cat.

I think it’s funny the way my thoughts went back and forth between crazy and sane. I haven’t been this wacky since the years I spent on the Pill. Back then, I used to go into rages that made the zombies of 28 Days Later look serene by comparison. I now know that I was suffering a side-effect not just of the Pill, but of what it simulates—pregnancy.

I still have five more months of pregnancy to go. That’s five more months of crazy hormones, and then there’s the post-partum period. Oh my. I guess I’ll just have to hold on to my sense of humor, and if that doesn’t work, there’s always the barbaric yawp.

Better cover your ears, just in case.

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