A side effect of living in the burbs is that there’s very little to go and do writhing walking distance. In fact, the only things within a mile of my front door are a convenience store, a forest and a butcher. 

I’ve been making friends over meat. 

For the first year or so we were here the local butcher was a stereotypically friendly Turkish fella, who always threw in a little extra something when you chatted him up. He did the butchering and his wife cooked halal friendly side dishes… Typical dips and salads. 

Something changed recently and my Turkish buddy was traded in for three bearded hipsters. I’m sad my buddy is gone. But the hipsters spit roast lamb once a week. Yummy, yummy lamb. 

They stick a sign up on lamb day letting you know when to come and collect the carvings. If you’re smart, you call ahead. Our first night trying it out we waited an extra forty minutes for our cut, but it was worth it. When we told Xavier we were eating lamb, he asked if it was dead. 

“Yes Xavier. The lamb is dead before it was cooked.”

“Aww… poor lamb.” He said while chewing on some shoulder. 

The next week we took the above photo. Again to the tune of “aww, poor lamb” followed by “can we eat it for dinner?”


I didn’t take that picture

Just in case you’re wondering, I had nothing to do with that picture. I just wanted something that was more reflective of our new home than the Sydney¬†Harbour Bridge. ūüôā

The photo is attributed to Flickr user howardignatius, and the source can be found here:

(C) howardignatius

Still here!

We’ve been slack with blogging for, like, a year now.

Just wanted to let folks know that we’re still here.

I certainly won’t make any promises that¬†we’ll start posting more quality content anytime soon, but I think as a digital journal, this is still a pretty good place to dump photos.¬†That’s likely how we’ll get back into this space.

When the wife’s away

Sarah and X are four days into a week long trip up to Banff to visit with our good friends from Sydney – Dani, Gregor and Leland. They relocated back to Canada shortly before we left. It’s Leland’s birthday this weekend and the kids are going to have a pizza party at a bowling alley. X is beside himself. Birthday! Pizza! Bowling! Friends!!!

Friends have been hard to come by since arriving here. At first we thought¬†people were a bit standoffish, but it turned out to be slightly different playground etiquette. The kids here won’t talk to you unless they know your name. That’s easily worked around though: “Hi, will you be my friend” turned into “I’m X, will you be my friend?”

This is one of the few social differences that’s caused issues since arriving in America. The other¬†big one being that people seem to socialize only around events. A dinner party, themed outing, football game, etc. I gather that the idea of just dropping by for¬†a coffee is something that’s not a part of north-western American culture.¬†When I did some research on this it seemed the concept was missing, but so much so that it needed a lot of qualifying when discussing. In terms of dropping by, I mean, having a friend¬†call up and say “Hey, we’ve got some free time this afternoon,¬†why don’t we get together and let the kids¬†play in the backyard. Your place or mine? I’ll bring cookies.”

This sort of thing happened a lot growing up. And it continued while we lived in France and Australia. But, not so much here. We hadn’t realized it until part way through the year, but¬†this small difference left us pretty socially isolated. Anytime we’d call up for folks to come over they had other plans. Plans… weird. Who has plans? I’ve certainly only heard about them in books, but it seems that¬†in these parts planning is really a thing.

Anyhow, between stranger-phobia, the need to actually plan for social time, and new video games, it’s left us a little out of the social loop. Now, that wouldn’t be all bad, I’m¬†introverted and quite enjoy my time alone. However, when two extroverts are¬†left home alone long enough,¬†bad things happen.¬†And there’s no such thing as time alone.

And so, this is how my family ended up in Banff. It’s a great vacation where everyone gets to play in the snow, hang out with friends, and recharge everyone’s battery. I’m unable to make it for work reasons, but I’m not sad. It’s been a glorious¬†four days of an empty house.¬†I’d started off the weekend with glorious plans of being productive, but that¬†hasn’t yet materialized. I think what I really needed was a weekend to recharge the batteries. So, instead, all plans went out the window. My actual weekend looked a lot more like:

Wake up, fry some bacon, have coffee, take a nap. Repeat until Sunday. With small breaks to play video games or binge on the Great British Bakeoff on Netflix.


Back to school

All the kids are back to school, which means that poor X has far fewer people to play with during the day. He’s an outgoing and extroverted child who thrives on the company of others (weird, right?) and so the back to school season hit pretty hard. Especially for his mom, who shares a personality profile with the Brown Recluse. Consequently he’s now been signed up to classes where he can burn off energy and interact with loads of other kids.

The first choice for class was definitely swimming. If Sarah’s spirit animal is a reclusive spider, then Xavier’s is most definitely the community loving, water dwelling otter. He lives for swimming and has been taking lessons in Sydney for years. Lessons here and there are very different though. When Sarah showed up to his first lesson in Seattle the instructor looked at him and said “oh no, he’s much to young to learn how to swim.” A nudge, a splash, and a lap across the pool changed that opinion quickly.

Since then we’ve changed pools to one with more intensive coaching. I don’t want to give the impression that we are trying to push him in any way, it’s just that he’s really good at this stuff, and gets bored easily in larger group lessons. Since starting early September he’s already advanced two grade levels (measure in colours of the rainbow) in classes.

It’s such a joy to watch someone doing something that they love, and have a talent for.
As for the other classes… We have Xavier enrolled in a half day wilderness camp twice a week, in which he basically learns how to play outside. The program is offered by our next door neighbour, who is the founder of the program and Mom to Xavier’s best bud. They spend most of their time roaming around the state park near our house, playing with dirt and sticks and singing songs or playing games. 

His final class is Gymnastics which he asked  to attend after finding a parkour video on YouTube. I did check into it and he can start actual parkour classes in a year or two, but for now this is close enough. 

The Fountain

On Tuesday i made the trek from Prince George back down to Seattle. I’d been telling mom how nice the greyhound connection is and figured I’d better give it a go before I bought her a ticket. The trip was largely uneventful, and really quite pleasant, except for an extra hour layover at the border crossing. When our driver turned the bus off, it decided to not turn on again. An hour later, it did. I guess it just needed a nap. 

So, an hour later than expected, I pull into my station and send Sarah a text letting her know I’ve arrived. I’m an hour late, and a little apologetic. She writes back: “I’m going to be late.”

I think: “Really? You e had an extra hour already.”

Then she sends me a picture. 


Houses aren’t meant to projectile vomit, afaik. At least her mom instincts were strong and she found a bucket in time. 

The way she tells the story, it just sort of shot off when she tried to turn off the sprinkler. Not knowing what to do, she stuck a finger in the hole and called for Xavier. “Xavier! Go next door and get help!”

“Ok mom!!” he shouted, and ran next door with his urgent mission. A few minutes later he came back, accompanied by the neighbours four year old son. This is the point of regret – we almost got a collie two weeks back. Lassie would have found a plumber. 

Always the opportunist, Xavier runs into the backyard and shouts, “ok mom! I brought help. Open he water!”

Mom was not happy. 

“Mom! Mom! Silas is here to play in the fountain!”

“Silas, can you get your dad?”

“Daddy’s not here.”

I suspect Sarah took that moment to offer the boys a vocabulary lesson. With her finger still blocking the flow of water, Sarah sent both boys back on a second mission. Armed with yet another new word, “emergency”, this time they came back with not one, but two neighbours. No plumber. 

This is when the bucket came out, and the three neighbours scoured our place for a water shut off valve. It’s on the street. However, that’s not common knowledge, so instead the turned on and off and on every dial and switch in the house, jumped into the crawl space and started hunting around underneath the house while simultaneously trying to prevent an underground swimming pool from forming. 

Around this point Sarah hears the pounding of heavy footsteps upstairs, and silence coming from the pipes. “Ok! I’m here!! Where is the emergency? And why are you in the crawl space?”

This is Scott. He’s the daddy next door’s kid had said was missing. He is also the hero of this story.

Scott helped get things back in order, replaced the tap, and turned on all the things that should be on. 

Anyhow, long story short, greyhound has free wifi on this side of the border. I’d travel with them again. 

Billy and Freckles

Once a week Xavier goes to the library and gets to pick a bunch of books to bring home. Sometimes he picks them himself; sometimes he puts on a dinosaur hand puppet and let’s the puppet choose. No matter who picks the books the overwhelming themes are superheroes and doggies. 

We don’t vet the books before bedtime, and not all of them are good books, so sometimes we end up with uncomfortable surprises. Last nights book fell into that category. The plot went something like this:

Billy and Freckles were best of friends. Billy was a boy, and Freckles was a dog. They played together every day. Then, Billy met Jane. Billy really liked Jane; Jane really didn’t like dogs. So Billy locked Freckles in the basement and went to play at Janes house. One day Jane didn’t like Billy. He cried all the way home. Freckles didn’t comfort him because he was locked in the basement. Sucks to be Billy. The end.