A Word from My Sponsors

Anouk and Typhon have decided they've had enough of all this illness and sickie talk and have manifested in the garden. They've set up their own obstacle course through what's left of my flowers, around the house, and over the see-saw. Not bad for a day's work. I managed to pull them away from their frenzy by announcing that they now have a new cousin besides Snickers, the Husky on the Hill.

And here he is, Gus, the cutest 10 month old Dachador. (Or Labrahund as his new Grandmammy calls him.)


What? You've never heard of a Dachador/Labrahund before? Goodness me! Well, for those of you who don't know, Gus is a Dachshund-Black Lab mix. He's a combination of all the wonderful things about Labs with all the fabulous spicy behavior of a sausage dog.

We had a sausage dog when I was growing up. His name was Klein and he was a pistol. (When I think about the speed that dog possessed, it makes me dream of a possible Dachusky team!) Klein wasn't your typical Dachshund either. He was, as Daddio called him, a "tweener weiner" since his mother had been of the standard size and his father, a miniture.

The greatest Thanksgiving memory I have is the time that Klein stole the turkey carcus off the dining room table. He somehow managed to eat the entire thing, between ferocious growls to scare us off his "kill" of course! Poor dog didn't move for 2 days, he was so stuffed. (Credit to my mom, that was one delicious bird!) He was as wide as he was long, sitting there under that table. Bless him. Klein, the Dachshund who'd have sold his soul for a piece of cheese.

There was a link not too long ago from the SDC site about a miniature Alaskan Husky. Interesting concept, a smaller version of these fantastic dogs appeals to me, but when I actually had a look, I'm not sure I'd know what to do with it. They are kind cute in that children's-beauty-pagent-contestant kinda way but I'm not sure about hooking them up to a sled anytime soon!

My own mini-Siberian and her accomplice would like me to just reaffirm their position on all dogs, pure bred or not:

Love us.

Whatever we Look Like and Whatever our Roots.

Go Hug Us, Play with Us, Take Us Out for a Walk.

Woof.

Welcome to the family, Gus!

I Think We've Now Paid for a Full Doctor's Office Renovation

Ah yes, back from yet another visit with the doctor. Bubba-Love's fever hasn't improved over the last three days, so after a frantic phone call last night, Buba Love and I went down and saw him this morning.

The diagnosis: pneumonia.

We've got a new anitbiotic to try and a x-ray appointment for tomorrow. I'm on hive watch and thinking we might need to buy a new copy of Cars.

Red wine, anyone?

My Colours

Mini-Husband and The Princess head back to school tomorrow. It's been a cold, dark, hectic vacation with all sorts of loudness and banging, in the end signifying nothing has been accomplished. Eh, voila. It's like that sometimes.

It's actually sunny today which has helped the morale incredibly. (That and at least my antibiotic seems to be working.) It's this striking yellow out there today. With all of the various tones on most of the trees right now, it's glowing across the fields and up to little peak on the other side of the valley. It looks as if everything is blooming in gold. I'm in awe. Yellow has always been my favourite colour.

With the time change during this vacation, I now get the chance to cook dinner in my purple and orange world of light. Our kitchen walls are painted a light purple and when the setting sun knocks on the window about 5pm, I happily let him in.

He dances about, jumping behind our wooden cabinets, sitting on top of the sticker covered white fridge, and then hiding in the purple corners of our old stone sink. I catch a glimpse of him as he heads towards the mountains, taking a quick pass over the stove. It's alive in there. It's my favourite time of year in the kitchen.

It's a good time of year to have had a vacation. If only we had had more days of light rather than fog, more days of playing rather than visiting the doctor. But it sure is amazing what a difference one day of light and colour makes.

Now Showing Chez Nous: Hives and Strep Throat

I thought we had it tough a few years back when Mini-Husband had pneumonia, stomach viruses, scarlet fever, and chicken pox in a 6 month time span...wait, as I type that, I'm realizing that was pretty tough. Thank goodness he's been healthy (for the most part) this last year. Touch wood that continues!

Right now, though, I'm going through Round Two of mulitple illnesses with Bubba Love. He had a lovely case of a stomach bug about 2.5 weeks ago. Got through that only to have him develop an ear infection (as you all know.) The doctor put him on the usual course of antibiotics and he seemed to perk up very quickly. Until Friday and the latest fun visit to the doctor.

Hives. The little guy was covered from head to toe in the most amazing patchwork of hives. One minute, all over his back, the next, covering his face and arms. Off we go to see our favourite man. Thank goodness the doctor is patient and doesn't mind playing charades. We finally were able to determine the right term for hives in French and he gave Bubba Love some medicine to ease the itching and discomfort.

Trouble is, I'm not sure what is causing the hives in the first place. Was it the antibiotic? Was it the fish sticks we ate for lunch on Friday? Is he having a reaction to a virus in his system? Was it the laundry soap?

He was ok during the weekend but broke out again with them yesterday and today. At least today he's eating and happily watching (yes, you guessed it) Cars.

This is good for me. 'Cause I've come down with strep throat. Mini-Husband and The Princess have been taking care of me today. I've had the most wonderful cup of tea made from apple juice and a brioche and peanut butter sandwich for breakfast.

Think I'll bring the dogs in and curl up with them on the couch. I know it doesn't seem possible, but I'm not sure they've ever seen the ending of Cars...

La Neighboure

La Neighboure (spelled as such because the neighbour is a she and in French, you add an "e" at the end if you are talking about a woman...my tribute to French grammar!) is here this week. Her husband is in the French military and they have moved around this country over the years. The house they have here is their dream, it's their future, their place for when he retires from the army. It's a very old house dating back to the time of Louis XV, the late 1700s. They have worked incredibly hard to renovate the house and it's lovely having more voices and life in the village when they are here.

It's an odd relationship I have with her. She is very nice and friendly but I can't help but feel that she holds the opinion that we don't really belong here. That we don't really have roots here. Whereas in her case, her mother was from near the village, they have family in the cemetery, and probably the most difficult one, she's French and we are not.

I worry sometimes about how our children will cope with being strangers in their own land. Mini-Husband may have some connections to England but the Princess and Bubba-Love were both born here and have never lived anywhere but France. They are technically not French, but when The Princess speaks, it's with an Auvergnate accent.

The kids don't have a tooth fairy, they have the tooth mouse. They don't think Halloween is about any costume you want, it's about scary skeletons and ghosts. Dressing up is Carnival. They take their shoes off immediately when going into a friend's house and they expect "gouter" at 4pm. They have never lived with air-conditioning and expect a bite of baguette when we go grocery shopping. School is Monday and Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Pate and vegetables are normal options at the cafeteria. It's Dora speaking French and English not English and Spanish. When they grow up, they want to have an appartment in Paris.

This is what they know. This is their life. How can I teach them to not let people like La Neighboure make them feel that they don't belong?

I'll admit that it hurts me when La Neighboure speaks to me sometimes, as if I'm not capable of understanding this world where I live. Not capable of being part of this village that has her family name in the cemetery.

The irony is that she is trying to become a teacher and hasn't been able to pass the exams. Her stumbling area: English.

Well at Least That's Sorted

Last night as I was getting the little people to bed, Mini-Husband started asking some rather in depth questions about families, life, and death. Super mom that I am, I dealt with all of the questions with aplomb. Feeling ever so smug with myself and the narrow margin between bedtime discussions and philosophy/religion avoided, I kissed the beautiful boy goodnight.

"Mom, where would we go live if you and Dad were to die right now?"

Dang. Didn't quite escape as cleanly as I had hoped!

"Well, you would probably go and live with your aunts and cousins in the Unites States. Wouldn't that be fun having all those other kids around you?"

Mini-Husband thought about that for a second and then added, "But we could always go and live with Grandma and Granddad in England too, you know."

"Yes," I said, "but I think dealing with the three of you might be a bit much for Grandma and Granddad at this point."

Mini-Husband pondered this again for a second. He looked at me with those fabulous brown eyes, smiled and said, "Yeah, The Princess really can be such a piece of work!"

Training Time

I do love my Hubster.

Yesterday, he took the day off to stay at home with the sickies so that the kids wouldn't infect friends and playmates while I headed off to my class. I don't think he understands just how good that was. Knowing that the kids where with him rather than somewhere else, knowing they were safe at home with him, was a relief. I didn't have to stress about them. They were with the other half of me.

When I got home from class several hours later, he took one look at me and sensed the headache that was forming from the 2.5 hours of French grammar and sent me out to play with the dogs. Bless him. You do get what you need sometimes!

Typhon and Anouk take the hit when my time is short and I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off. They have space to play in the garden, but it's not the same as getting out for a decent run or walk. I know for me, if I don't get outside to walk or run or jump around, I go nuts. These dogs are of the same ilk. Sprinting around the garden furniture, dodging toys and swingsets just isn't the same as running the trails.

I've had some really good advice from the gang over at Sled Dog Central recently and I've been trying to work one on one with Anouk and Typhon. The hope is that by really giving time to focus on each dogs' specific needs, I'll be able to run them together better when we're ready. That may be in about 4 years time, but as Hubster likes to say, "Patience is a virture. Catch it if you can."

Anouk does well with the gee/haw commands. She hesitates a little before a turn but I'm sure that as we pratice this, she'll get confidence. She's a smart little cookie. Typhon needs a bit more practice and patience. He's not happy being out without Anouk. He'll follow me, but he won't lead. He's team player, a strong wheel dog. That being said, he knows the commands, even though I'm saying them in English! (How said is it that even my dog is bilingual before I am!)

Last night was a slow walk and the first time in while that I had both dogs out together. We focused on the commands "easy" and "on by." It was windy and blustery out there but such a pleasure to give some time and attention to the pups. They did really well. Hopefully, I'll get a chance sometime this week to get on the trails, sickies and school vacation permitting!

Did I forget mention that when the dogs and I got back home, Hubster had dinner ready? Did I forget to mention how awesome this man is who understands me and lets me do these things I love?