The Grateful Post

This weekend was the last long weekend of the year. Typically this weekend involves family and either a very long drive back to the Townships or else everyone coming here. This year we took things in a different direction. On Friday night Simon celebrated his eighth birthday with his friends. While it was a bit tricky and somewhat harrowing to hold a birthday party on a Friday night, it worked out really well. Saturday morning, after a long, brisk walk and a visit to Starbucks, we drove up to the cottage to take down the summer effects; Under a clear, sunny sky we raked, brought in the Adirondack chairs and kayaks, dismantled the gazebo etc...At night we rented movies and ate a hearty casserole. On Sunday we drove home and prepared to host our friends for Thanksgiving supper. Besides preparing the meal for 14 people, Elizabeth and I did some fall planting and about six thousand loads of laundry. The evening consisted of, among other things, several bottles of champagne, mountains of food and desserts, excellent conversation and gaggles of children treating my house like a Formula One course. And today is just a bonus day. Groceries are done, the cleaning lady is on her way and the kids had no homework. I will read, grab a yoga class, perhaps go for a hike across the river and eat leftovers for supper. In all, a delightfully perfect weekend but none of it worth anything were I not perfectly aware of how fortunate I am to have any of it. I am surrounded by good friends, wonderful children and a Saint of a husband. I am blessed with not one, but two wonderful places to call home, a challenging and rewarding job and the wisdom to know that it does not define me. I have travelled to some of the most beautiful, humbling places on earth, eaten some excellent meals, drank some wine and laughed until I cried. I have girlfriends that could not be replaced by Deepak Choprah, Oprah Winfrey and Mother Theresa combined and I have a family that, while it is not without it's quirks, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Lastly, of course I am grateful for my own health and that of my loved ones. I know firsthand how quickly it can be taken from you, leaving you feeling powerless and scared.

The problem with being thankful is that I feel that I am testing fate; pushing my limits of what is 'my fair share' of good fortune. As though if someone were to see my list of things that I am thankful for they would say, "hey, wait a minute...that's waaaay over the limit. We're taking some back".

My thoughts this weekend have not been far from those who have had some of their good fortune taken back. Life can be unfair at times and your loss is a testament to that fact.

The Magazine Post

I almost always pick a really long line-up so I can spend a little time perusing the trashy magazines. I love catching up with Jon and Kate and Brad and Angie, guessing who's ass is whose and voting on who wore it best, but my frugal Scottish heritage never allows me to actually buy them, so by just ripping off the best parts of the magazine, I feel like I'm practically earning money. So tonight I make an impromptu stop at the neighbourhood grocer to pick up bread. My line-up is very quick, so there's no time to catch up with my fake friends, but one magazine cover catches my eye and actually makes me laugh out loud. It's a Cosmo or something and it's main headliner in this issue is "50 sex tricks that will drive him wild" 50? Who on earth is a) going to remember 50 anything, much less 'sex tricks' and b) keep them all straight? What if you got them mixed up? I mean, mathematically speaking, if you got your wires crossed you could be looking at like, more than 2000 'tricks'! More to the point, what qualifies as a trick, exactly? Are we talking, like Rod Stewart level tricks or more like, arch your back a bit or brush your teeth first? Now, I am no casonovette; I have not written or read any sexiquette literature, but despite my somewhat limited experience I can say this for sure: The number of men getting out of bed and thinking to themselves, "hmm, I wish that was more amazing" is on par with the number of leprechauns purchasing bridges in Atlantis. The next time you're in the grocery store line-up, take a peek at the covers of these 'women's' magazines. Take note of the headline issues; "make him happier doing this","keep him wanting more of that"...now look at the cover of GQ or Men's Health. Notice a difference? You want a trick for him? Sex on a weeknight. That will blow his mind.

The Dawg Post

We’re saying good-bye to an old friend this week. More than a friend; a member of our family. Morely has been with us for over 14 years. Eight houses, the birth of two children, the loss of two, the move to Ottawa, numerous drunken Christmas parties, vacations at the cottage. Morely has been here for us in our worst moments, has witnessed our biggest fights and arguments. He knows our secrets and our habits; has watched us laugh and cry. I am not one to equate pets with people; I do not feel they are the same. I don’t have framed pictures of my dog at the office; I don’t recount cute little doggie anecdotes. He does not and never has slept in our bed (except after we have left for the day – that’s right Morely, we knew you did that) but Morely was a good, good dog. A face only a mother could love. Simon described Morely as a very ‘fancy dog’. And he was. I don’t know how to say good-bye to a friend like this. I want him to know how much we love him and how much he touched our lives. I want him to know that I could never have asked for a better dog and I feel truly unworthy of his spirit and his kindness. My children adore him and I know what it will have meant to their lives having had a dog this wonderful and fun and gentle see them though their formative years. We love you Morley. As I sit with you today, watching your life slowly slip away my heart breaks at the thought of not seeing you bouncing across the kitchen at the sight of your leash and a plastic bag. I will sit with you until your brown eyes close for the last time because you would do the same for us.

A Few Things I Would Like to Point Out:

1. Ladies: Anything you bought at Lululemon is considered workout wear. Stop wearing those pants with heels. It looks like you left the gym and forgot to change your pants. 2. Men: I know it's not actually 'illegal' to go shirtless in public, but it should be. Your white hairy chest and your pink nipples are more than the general public should have to bear. Furthermore, when you tuck your t-shirt into the back pocket of your jeans and it dangles down like an SOS sign from a burning building, well, I want to run you over with my car. Don't get me started on your armpits either. 3. In your car: We can see you picking your nose. Yep, knuckle deep, digging for gold, tickling brain...your car is not your invisible fortress. 4. In the airport: When the gate attendant announces that 'we will now begin boarding' there is no need to form a 75metre long line that snakes through the airport and holds up other travellers trying to get to their gates. Your ticket is not General Admission. You have an assigned seat and no one is going to take it from you. Why you think lining up is necessary is beyond me. Even more baffling is why you would want to get into that tiny little seat next to your new best friend any second sooner than you have to. 5. At work: Here is a short list of what is unacceptable attire at the office: leggings, flip-flops, clothing with writing on the bum, skirts that stop more that four inches above the knee (yes, even if you have paired them with leggings), low-cut tops, camisoles, spaghetti straps, tube-tops (God, I can't even believe I need to point that one out), Oversized T-shirts, and I don't care what day of the week it is or how comfortable you are at work, it is never acceptable to walk around the office in your bare feet. That's it. A pretty short list actually.

The Christening Post.

Our Nephew is being Christened this weekend. Last night at the dinner table my son (age 7) asked what a Christening was. I started explaining some of the details but before I could get very far, Simon interrupted and said "oh, like in the Lion King when they held Simba up over the cliff" and I said, well, yes...sort of...and then he said "except it won't be a monkey that holds him up". It should be an interesting ceremony for all.

The Smoking Post

The sun is out, the weather is warm and you know what goes really well with those two things? A pitcher of Margaritas and a smoke. It's true. Many years ago that's exactly what I would be embracing every Friday night (well, to be honest, it wasn't just Fridays). It's been 8 years since I had a cigarette and every time I walk past a terrace of people smoking and drinking I am filled with the immortal sin of envy. The truth is, I loved smoking. I loved the smell, I loved the feel of the cigarette in between my fingers, I loved the taste and truly, I loved the way it looked. Say what you want, but smoking is cool. I would like to tell you that I quit smoking for my health or my pregnancies or because my children asked me to do it as their Birthday presents, but the truth is, I was forced to quit by powers beyond my control. Simply put, my body physically rejected nicotine. Violently rejected it. All over the bathroom of a Thai restaurant in the Market. I will spare you the details, but will impart one piece of wisdom from that near-death experience. Don't leave the lid down on public toilets. Especially in Thai restaurants. For those of you hanger-on-ers...enjoy these days. Enjoy the taste of the cigarette paired with the wine after a good meal. Enjoy that perfume on your clothes and that non-existent ten pounds that the non-smokers are carrying around. Of course when winter rolls around and you are still gripped by Cigarette's evil talons, standing in the -35C weather shivering your asses off, I will rejoice in my superiority, but for now, I am jealous. Okay, off for a run!

To Run or Not to Run

I am kicking around the idea of running in the National Capital 1/2 marathon next month. I have run this particular one before so I know what I'm getting into and I can't quite decide if it's all worth it. The fact is, I'm not built for running, really. My bottom is disproportionately large (which is only good for running if you're black. Which I am not). My legs are short and my arches are somewhat low. All of these factors make me more of a Clydesdale than a Thoroughbred, so if I am going to run anything it needs to be for distance rather than speed. Proof in point; my current best 10km time is about 56mins; painfully slow by most standards. Another notch on the 'con' list is that in fact, I hate running. I do it, but I really do not like it. I like the endorphin rush and the time outdoors and ofcourse the joy of rubbing it in people's faces that before they even got out of bed this morning I put about 15kms behind me, but that's about it. Beyond that it's a lot of very sore knees (the last one of these had me so nearly debilitated I practically had to move to the livingroom because getting up the stairs was so painful), sprained ankles (have not recovered from the last type three sprain that left me on crutches for the two best weeks of July) and force feeding myself pasta and bread. (okay, that part is a lie; I love pasta and bread. I could live off of nothing but pasta and bread for the rest of eternity and be perfectly happy). The actual event is not that well put together either, really. For starters it's a loop. I absolutely loathe and despise a loop run. I mean as if running weren't tedious and painful enough without having to relive it. As well, the 1/2 starts at ten o'clock in the morning, meaning that the majority of people finish at noon. Noon. The absolute hottest part of the day. And you can be absolutely certain that up until race day the temperature will never have even broken 20 degrees, but on that Saturday the thermometer will soar to a record setting 31C meaning that during the second time around the loop you're leaping over corpses and vomit. It's very unpleasant.

Ofcourse running the race has it's upsides...there's um...some free bagels at the end (although they're not Montreal bagels, so I'll pass) and I think last year I got a T-shirt or a hat or something. There's that 'feeling of accomplishment' that people are always on about...although to be honest, coming in 2374th is not exactly my idea of a raving success. And since I have almost zero competitive instinct when it comes to these things, I take no pride in coming in ahead of 3627 other people...

Hmm..so to summarize, 1. am not fast. 2. don't actually like running. 3. am prone to injury. 4. don't enjoy the heat. 5. don't like bagels that aren't from Montreal.

Okay, so maybe I'll just go to the waterpark that day.

Star Wars Review

So I have finally seen Star Wars. Yes, the George Lucas film made before I was born. Up until today I had never seen it. This is what I can report. Princess hair-bun is up shit creek. The Nazis are about to blow up the universe. She needs Ben Cannoli to save her because he has the Reckoning or something. She sends the 1975 equivalent of a Facebook update pleading for his return. Luke Skywalker has some free time on his hands and wants to team up with Ben. (don't know why or how these two find each other...I think I was distracted by laundry or something at this part). They track down Harrison Ford who exploits the crap out of them for the use of his jet-thing. There is a golden gay robot and his fat little robot friend. There is a giant furry thing that I think is like a dog, but can walk upright. Together they form a posse and fly around in giant penis-jets until they finally hit the vagina of the giant white ship that the Nazi's have been floating around on. Harrison and Luke get a medal from hair-bun. Can't wait to see the sequel...I am predicting a love interest between Hair-bun and Luke.

The Embarassing Incident

A few of my closer friends have already heard this story...to them I apologize for the re-run.

I have to give directions to the widget store to two older gentlemen that I am working with.

I take out a piece of paper and my handy black Sharpie marker.

I draw two straight lines down the middle of the page to represent the street. I place an arrow at the top to show which direction they should be driving in.

At the bottom of the "street" I draw two circles to represent the cluster of hotels that they are familiar with.

I hand over the piece of paper and send them on their way.

This is what I give them:

By the time I realised what I had given them, it was too late.

I am sure Freud has some theories on this one...

The Eyebrow Post

So I had promised you a post about my eyebrow incident...Your agonizing wait is over. Yesterday I took a close up look at my face in the kids' bathroom. The kids' bathroom, in case this wasn't already made evident by the name, is not the same bathroom that the Zipper and I use. It has entirely different lighting, mirror positioning, wall color etc.... You wouldn't think this would make any difference, would you? Well, I am here to tell you, it does. If you, like I do, do most of your primping, pruning and applying in front of the same mirror all the time, the view in another mirror is alarmingly different. Take your rearview mirror for example. The next time you are in your car (not while driving), crank that mirror over and take a look. You will see hairs, pores, freckles that you didn't even know were there! It's a nightmare!! Anyhoo...I wasn't in the car, just the kids' bathroom. And what I saw was clearly my Scottish eyebrow heritage. (see Susan Boyle). I raced to my bathroom, got my trusted tweezers and went to work. Over the years I have tried many hair removing methods; I have had things waxed, shaved, tweezed, threaded, epilated and even electrocuted. Nothing works. It all grows back. In some cases with a vengeance unlike anything you have ever experienced. Sometimes less so. Either way, as a woman, this is a never ending daily maintenance program that I did NOT sign up for but am stuck with until I am in my eighties and hairy moles are overlooked and my appearance in a bikini will be (hopefully) less frequent. The thing is, I am not sure what all this hair is even for. I mean, I know that ear and nose hair is there to stop things from falling in {them} and I guess that the hair that is located, ahem, under a bathing suit, loosely serves the same purpose, but what is all the other hair for? It's not for cushioning against falls...I mean, have you ever fallen on your armpit? It's not for warmth...No one has ever claimed to have warmer feet because they have let their big-toe hair grow in...so why? Anyways, I did get my tweezers (which, you should know, are the one thing aside from my children that I will take with me when I have to evacuate my home in the middle of the night) and went to work on these stray hairs. For the time being, all is right with the world. But as any woman knows, these suckers grow back. In your sleep, on an overseas flight, underneath hats and bangs and scarves. If your eyesight is poor, you are one of the lucky ones. You can't see them, so it's like they're not there. But if you are like me and you have delectably perfect eyesight, then my only advice is to give in. Resign yourself to a lifetime of squinting, scrunching and tweezing. You'll feel better once you accept it. Oh, and keep a set of tweezers in the car.

No Password Required

There was an incident this morning involving my eyebrows. When it was happening, I was thinking, 'this is what my much starved readership needs to hear about...this is a perfect time to reactivate my blog'! And so I logged on...Logging on prompted the entry that you are about to read instead. I have about 412 opportunities in any given day to enter a password. I have passwords for banking, Facebook, email, wireless, MSN, my computer, my laptop, my cellphone, my Blockbuster account has one for God's sake! I can't even rent Pineapple Express without relaying my "top secret' codeword to the pimple-faced little weasel behind the desk at Blockbuster! On top of the myriad of passwords that either have to be numeric, letters (what is the opposite of numeric?), start or end with a capitol letter or some staggeringly annoying combination of the two, now there are these weird little puzzles that you have to decipher and retype in regular letters!! And quite frankly, they make me very nervous. I can't decipher them. The letters are all squished together...is that an L or an I or a 1?! ARGH!!! Now I have never, ever, boasted myself to be a computer-savvy person. My answer to every and all computer issues is to 'turn it off, wait ten seconds and turn it back on again' (which incidentally works more often than not), but I really, really, do not see the need for all these passwords and squishy-puzzle phrases. If some poor, pathetic sod had nothing better to do with their time but to crack the code to get into my laptop (I'll give you a clue, it's a four letter word embossed into the front and inside of my computer), maneuver the maze of prompts and icons to enable my wireless settings, crack that code (not a tricky one for anyone who knows me or has ten seconds to look around my kitchen which is where my LT lives most of the time) then find the Blogger page, repeat steps one through three again because by now Vista would have crashed and would have to start the whole bloody process over again) and so on and so on...would the task of having to retype that squishy letter/number sequence really stop them? If you are such a person and can be bothered to devote this much time to screwing with my life, please at least make it more interesting. Make me a size 4. Make my bra a size D. Make my postal code 90210 and give me a chalet in the Alps. Rack up my credit cards with cool stuff like Fleuvogs and iTunes downloads of cool music that I woudl never have heard of. After that, go nuts with the blog entries and the Facebooking... I'm pretty sure no on reads those anyways.

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth....

Here I am! Here I am! We are knee deep in ear infections, Stanley Cup playoffs, additions, new houses, soccer games and VERY bossy little girls. Allow me to explain: Simon has his second ear infection in six months. He shares his fathers low pain threshold, so there is a LOT of crying and whining (which only makes Simon cry more). He is on antibiotics, so we hope there is light at the end of the ear canal soon. Ottawa has had serious Cup fever (not the cup fever that hockey players get from not washing thier protective gear, the fever that couch-coaches get whenever 'their team' makes it to the finals). Everywhere you look cars are sporting flags, uninspiring paint jobs (go sens...Can we really not come up with something better?), on the rare occasion that is has been warm enough to leave the windows open you can hear the score of the hockey game every third night and its ALL PEOPLE TALK ABOUT AT WORK. Well, judging by the way things are going tonight the finals too will have gone the way of the ear infection. We are putting an 1100 square foot addition on our house; Zip will finally have his garage, I will finally have a mudroom with radiant heat floors, and much to my fathers pleasure, we will have a first floor bathroom. Pics to come as more walls go up. We bought another house to renovate; across the street from us. Again, will post pics soon. Nicholas is knee-sock deep in competitive league soccer this summer. Other than it being a serious pain getting him to and from games during rush hour, its great exercise and he is quite good. Elizabeth has reached a new level of bossy. Conversation the other morning: Elizabeth, "mummy, want a bottle milk HOT" Mummy, "I beg your pardon? How would a nice little girl ask for something?" Elizabeth, "MUMMY! WANT. A. BOTTLE. MILK. HOTTT." The fun never ends.

SOLD!

I have finally gotten around to posting some "afters" of the house we renovated ... Below: Third-floor loft ; two huge rooms separated by a three-piece bathroom. Newly carpeted. One of my favorite areas in the house... Remember that kitchen? We replaced the old cupboards and reconfigured the layout to allow for a more open-concept. Zip built this stunning two storey porch - in the summer you can sit on the second floor and be almost completely secluded by the trees. Heaven... Well, the bathroom is still blue, but now its a 4-piece with soaker tub and pedestal sink.

Christmas came a little bit early this year to Sara and Marc; Maya James Christy Theriault came into the world on December 7th, 2006 weighing in at just over seven pounds. Blue eyes and a respectable amount of hair have been reported. Mum and dad are very proud (Marc and Sara, that is, not my mum and dad), although prouder still, Steve Trew has been spotted around town harassing people with photographs of his darling granddaughter. While I am sorry to have posted this nearly a whole month late, it does allow me to report that S&M are doing very well, the baby is very happy and relaxed and people even seem to be getting some sleep at their house. A victory I would say! Congratulations, Sara and Andrew :)

You've got a little something right there...

This is the highly adorable face that I have to leave behind for weeks on end next month. The last time I left she learned two new words; "hockey" and "no-no-no". Today while I was at work, she started saying "cookie" and "blanket". I don't know if a woman can 'have it all' as my sister would say. I hate leaving her (and the other two what's-their-names) and part of me resents missing out on all these "firsts". Burn all the bras you like, a man would never feel the longing and the angst over leaving his children for business. I guess I can just resign myself to the fact that its only for short periods of time and only during the winter months...But if I get back and she's humming the tune to Hockey Night in Canada, I'm handing in my notice.

Tidal Bore Anyone?

So, back from my second Skate Canada Event, this time in sunny Moncton, NB. I know what you're thinking, ick, Moncton. Well, you may want to redact your negative thoughts; Moncton was a pleasure, really. Maritimers, while dim-witted and punctually challenged are, hands down, the loveliest people in the country. Friendly, charming and above all, NUTS about their figure skating. The major upside to the trip was that one of our Skate Canada team was actually born and raised in Moncton and is, if you will, quite a celebrity around town; everywhere you went people were lined up to say hello to our Emery, and he knew literally everyone and every place to EAT. Nearly every night we feasted like kings on fresh seafood, steaks, pasta, whathavyou. Delectable. It was like touring with Gail King! One other fun thing was a live performance by lovable Shaun Majumder at Yuk Yuks in Moncton. While I am not usually a fan of live stand-up comedy I will admit this was a very funny performance, although it could have stood to lose the "Kramer" impression. Unless you are Chris Rock, the use of the n-word is inexcusable and not at all funny, people. Much less drinking and eating took place and virtually no jet-jag, so I am back to my old self in record time this time 'round. Next stop, Halifax. Get out your nor'easter...

Skating Anyone?

I have just returned from my first Skate Canada Event in Victoria, BC. For eight days we hosted the worlds best singles and pairs skaters in the world as they short programmed, long programmed and danced their way to the winners podium. I will say one thing about figure skating - it's some kind of serious work! I have never been so up-close and personal with professional athletes before (sorry, Amy), and I was very, very impressed with the physical and emotional stamina that these people (most of them nearly children) have . The focus they have, the respect for one another and their devotion to their sport is outstanding; they have my utmost respect. Beyond the skaters was the phenomenal amount of work that goes into putting on a production of this size. I saw ice being painted, jumbotrons being lowered and reconfigured, miles and miles of something called 'patch cables' being installed and tens of thousands of people filing in and out of our building in orderly, manageable form. Our team definitely took the gold for 'event staging'. I am exhausted, jet lagged and my feet are still aching, but it was a really great time. I really bonded with my coworkers and it feels good to be part of this team. I will say, however, that Victoria is not the end all and be all of beautiful places to visit, as the residents of Victoria would have you believe. While they get very little (or no) snow, it rains all the bloody time; you can't ski on rain, people! Have you ever seen a rainmain? Kids making rain angels? Ever whipped a rainball at someone? No. What you may have seen is leaking roofs, frizzy hair and people being drenched in a tidal wave from a roadside puddle. The other downside to thier mild climate is that the homeless and the aged outnumber anyone else at least five to one, so unless you're a widower looking to score some crack, stay East with the hardier Canadians. Relieved and happy to be home, I have the entire week off and two weeks of office time before my next destination, tropical Moncton, NB. Stay Tuned.

A Wedding Speech...

The four of us have been close, close friends for fifteen years now. But as the first of us is not only getting married, but moving to an entirely other continent, we are presented with a sort of opportunity, if you will. We have an opening in our foursome and this event is as good a place as any to start spreading the word of our opening. As we are filling a very unique role, you should expect us to be quite particular; Firstly, the person will have to possess a rather spectacular flass. (for those not familiar, a flass is a unique trait; it is when a personÂ’s ass actually stretches from the backs of their thighs to their upper-mid-section and leaves all jeans and pant with a baggy, loose area where a typical bum should be; For a live example, please refer to almost any Tector . Yes, we will be requiring a flass to complement our full-bottomed group. Secondly, the person should be punctual to a fault. The fault being that under no situation will any of us be able to live up to their uber-punctuality and as a result we will be passive-aggressively ignored and shunned through tight little pursed lips for hours until we have fed this person a Mars bar. Thirdly the person must be one who dances with the grace of a happy sea crab and who knows all the words to Waltzing Matilda or The Mary Ellen Carter Finally, she should have immaculate taste in men; this is not to say that she couldn't have had her share of undertakers, hot-dog-eaters, or bisexuals, but at present date her partiality should be narrowed down to one extremely lovable, funny man who adores all of her quirks and behaviors, of which there are many. Now, we are not fussy about things like shopping endurance or personal hygiene; we have made concessions in the past for Amy's inability to cope with crowds or ironing boards. Things which are certain to be deal breakers will include, but are not limited to; Generosity of heart; We need someone who will fly her sister in to console her after a bad break-up, send her friends flowers on their last day of work, rearrange her entire life for the birth of not one, but three of our children, someone who always sees the best in people and who keeps in touch with her friends and family despite busy schedules and distance between. The ability to listen, endlessly. Listen to us cry, laugh, tell boring stories, whathaveyou. Listen and not interrupt; listen and not offer advice, just listen. Bring sunshine and light to an otherwise dark day; eat more than we did when we felt bad about eating too much, not judge when we say terrible things, and appreciate and love us for our short comings. These will be very adorable, perhaps shiny-red, unusually narrow shoes to fill. While we are very doubtful that we will be successful in our search and will ultimately remain merely a threesome, we still wish Amy and Andrew all of the happiness and joy that two people can stand. Please raise us glass with us, but do NOT clink them together, for our dearest friend Amy and her wonderful new husband Andrew; he is the only man deserving of taking her from us and I think we can all agree that she is irreplaceable.

God Ajö IKEA!

Friday, September 29th, 2006 will mark my last day at IKEA, Ottawa. After four years of herring, meatballs and more cinnamon buns than I care to think about I will be embarking on a new journey; one paved in ice. I have been hired by Skate Canada as Events Inventory Coordinator and I couldn't be more excited, nervous or thrilled! More details to follow as the big day approaches.

Before...

Here are some before pics of the kitchen, bathroom and back yard, to give you an idea of what we've been up to... If all goes according to plan we should be posting the 'After's in a few weeks. Here's Elizabeth and and Simon playing in their new backyard... So, as you can see the place was a little blue.