Post-Christmas Wrap-up

Punkin really hates Santa... He popped by for a visit on Christmas Eve, and she was just as stand-offish with him in our house as she was at the mall.

After kicking him to the curb, she opened her Christmas even present from my Mum to find a homemade nightie and housecoat. My Mum has been developing her mad talents for the last couple of years, and it certainly showed this Christmas. My Christmas eve present was a beautiful table topper. It had been intended as a tree skirt, but Mum couldn't bear to cut it open, so table topper it became. And it's gorgeous.



Christmas morning was overwhelming, as usual. Punkin was absolutely adorable - she would take presents to people and watch them open them, and get all excited, clap her hands, cheer. We eventually put all her presents to the side so we could enjoy her as Santa's helper all morning. When everyone else had opened all their presents, then she tore into her stuff.

She had a very fisher-price Little People Christmas, accumulating a farm, a zoo and a Noah's ark. For her birthday on the 22nd, she'd received a little people Tent Trailer camping set. So, with her castle, stable and nativity scene, she's little peopled now until... next Christmas, I would imagine. Ironically, there are not many little people in her little people collection. She has a king, queen, knight, stable boy, zookeeper, 2 camping girls and Noah. Everything else is animals (not counting the nativity because we only get that out once a year). I may need to find some actual little people.

My Christmas was good. I got a breadmaker from my in-laws. We're slowly mastering 'white bread'. I'm ready to branch out into whole grains but I need to find some breadmaker recipes for that first. I also got Season 2 of The Tudors and Season 3 of Deadliest Catch. Beaker got the entire series of Vicar of Dibley, which we've been enjoying quite a bit.

I'm not sure what caused it, but I've been having insane dreams lately. Expect to see some of those coming up in the next little while, as I plan to rededicate some time to this blog as my goal for the new year.

Happy New Year, by the way - I figure I'd better say it now...just in case I don't make it back before January starts.

2 years

Me in labour. December 22, 2006. Early/Mid Morning.

At this time, two years ago, I was taking my first trip up to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit to feed my newborn daughter. Her name sounded alien on my tongue after calling her 'the baby' for so long. I was neither surprised, nor disappointed, to discover the child we'd been waiting for was a girl, even though I'd said I wanted a boy, and we'd never been able to discover the gender before she was born. Now I can't imagine why I would have preferred a boy. The last two years have been eye-opening, remarkable and amazing.

Moments after birth. Around 1830 Mountain Standard Time, 22 December 2006.

From the first moment I held her in my arms, I was completely in love, and I forgot my life without her. She was beautiful. A full head of dark, dark hair, a beautiful little face and my mouth. My mother's mouth. My grandmother's mouth. Her mother's mouth... and on and on. I held a legacy of strong women in my arms, and I knew in that instant. I had been blessed with a daughter to carry on that legacy that had been given to me. My daughter was the most precious treasure I could be given. And my feelings on that have never changed.

Our first snuggle. 1845-1900 MST, 22 December 2006

Because of my medical condition, she was taken to the NICU for monitoring. My Dad went with her, to act as advocate. Within minutes of her arrival in the unit, he told the neonatologist that the baby's grandmother was on her way upstairs and was the Clinical Nurse Educator for the NICU at home and was a neonatal specialty nurse. Mum hadn't wanted that information to get out, but I was thrilled that Dad had blabbed. I knew my daughter would get the best care possible if there was a NICU CNE hanging around. When the neonatologist had problems starting her IV, he asked Mum if she wanted to have a try. She paled and declined. She was in gramma mode and not nurse mode.

My angel in the NICU. 1830 MST, 22 December 2006.

She was discharged on Christmas Eve, so we called her our present. She was very sleepy at first, a result of a bad case of jaundice (we probably shouldn't have been discharged). When she woke up, a month later, she could not get enough of the world around her. She started holding her head up on her own quite early on, craning her wee neck to see the world around her better.

2 months old. 27 February 2007. Calgary Travelodge, watching TV

Her growth at first perplexed me. She was tiny. She was 7lb, 10oz at birth, and was only about 9 pounds at 2 months. She stayed tiny until we moved back to B.C. When we discovered she'd been self-weaning, and learned we had to supplement with formula she plumped right up. Between August and October she gained 5 pounds.

Chubbing up nicely. 1 September 2007. Vancouver B.C.

By her 1st birthday, she was finally 'normal' sized. And she loved her cake.

Birthday cake is yummy! 22 December 2007. Hometown B.C.

20 March 2008, Hometown

June 2008

September 2008

December 2008

So here I sit, reflecting on the last two years. My daughter is in bed, fast asleep. She has had a busy few days of celebrating. She learned to say Hippopotamus today, and maybe, just maybe, will cut her canines before 2009 starts. She's filled with laughter and love, and has a wonderful sense of humour. She plays pretend, and knows how to get dressed almost completely on her own. She speaks in sentences, and she sings and she dances. She loves her people, and she rarely plays strange. She is, quite simply, the light of my life.

When I think of everything she's done in the last two years, and when I look at her, so tall and childlike, I realize that every day, my baby is more a little girl. And I long to hold her close and never see her change. And at the same time, I am intrigued by the girl she is becoming, and can't wait to see more from her. I look forward to watching her grow up into a beautiful and confident young woman, full of promise and life.


Happy Birthday, Punkin.

Stress Ramblings

When stressed, I fall into fits of self-pity and loathing. Today, ironically, is one of those days.

When I awoke this morning, I was COLD. I came upstairs and Beaker and Punkin were romping around, and didn't seem to be noticing how cold it was. I finally voiced my complaint, huddled on the couch for warmth. Beaker checked the thermostat. It was 15 degrees celcius inside (about 60F). I went to the thermostat and punched the up button. Nothing happened.

After about 10 minutes of farting around, I called the guy who'd installed our new spidoinky high efficiency furnace last summer. And left a message. While waiting, I called a place in the yellow pages. The lady was incredibly rude and told me to start phoning everyone who did furnaces because she was too busy. I finally got ahold of a place, and the guy said he could be over in 15 minutes. While I was on the phone? Beaker got the furnace running.

We had heat all afternoon for Punkin's birthday party (a day early), and then as soon as people started leaving it got cold again...

And we were in the same boat. While the guy was here, our furnace installer guy called and said he could come this afternoon for $150 or come tomorrow for $100. Since we had heat, we opted for a 'general service call' tomorrow. So when the furnace crapped out again, I called him back and left a message. He called me and said he was in the next town, over an hour away and couldn't come. He recommended some place, and then we got off the phone. I phoned the guy who had already been out, and got through to him instantly. He said he'd be over in a half hour, and sure enough, it was about 20 minutes when he arrived. He went down to the basement with Beaker and I could hear them laughing and chatting while Punkin and I ate dinner.

And then I heard the heat click on. So Beaker and the furnace guy did a couple more things, I heard a few more manly laughs and then next thing you know, we have heat and the house is warming up and I'm feeling moderately less stressed.

But here's the thing. Beaker and I have no savings. He's off work without pay for the next 2 weeks (we're down one week already) and we won't get a full pay-cheque again until January 30th. I have a bachelor of arts degree and a nursing certificate and stay at home with our daughter.

I feel like I am failing my husband. He is still in his apprenticeship and will be forever at this rate. I have to go back to work so that he can get back into the classroom. But working full-time means daycare for Punkin and I just... I can't bear to think of that. Working casual is much more realistic.

I just... feel at odds and ends. I feel like I'm failing my family, and my husband, and the thought that I might have to borrow money next month makes me feel sick. I'm stir crazy enough that I know I need to start working again.

I know my reticence is because I have fears. It's been over 2 years since I worked as a nurse. I am scared to go back and maybe be bad at my job. I'm scared to work at Hometown General Hospital because it can be a difficult workplace and it's the only hospital in town. I'm scared to work long-term care because I don't like LTC. I'm scared to leave my daughter in the care of others. I'm just plain scared.

I don't like being scared. It makes me feel weak.


So to sum up, today I feel like a weak, frightened failure.

Oh, and it's also the second anniversary of my grandmother's death. My gramma that I loved and was close with. Happy Solstice to me.

Jolly Old Fat Man, Indeed

Punkin was not a fan of Santa. Now that I've braved the ridiculously cold weather to head to the mall (and get run down by rabid geriatrics doing their shopping), I have the evidence.


Here he is, trying to bribe her into his lap with a colouring book story. The thumb in the mouth is a sure sign that she doesn't trust him. She ran halfway up the walkway to him before realizing he was a real live human being in a costume and then ran back to me.

"No, no, no, no!" It was her little whiny voice.

"But it's Santa, Punkin, you said you wanted to see Santa."

"No."

"Mommy will come with you?"

"Okay."

So she crept forward, sliding her feet like she was in figure skates, thumb firmly planted in her mouth. I tried to plunk her in Santa's lap, and no, no, she wasn't having any of that. No screaming, no tantrum, just slid right back out and ran behind my legs. Finally we convinced her to go visit, bribed by the book and a candy cane.

She glared at him suspiciously.

"Beard not Poppa's." She proclaimed with her eyes narrowed (we've been telling her Santa's beard is like my Dad's).

"It's okay honey. You tell Santa what you want. Mommy's right here."

"No."

"I'm sorry, Santa, she's never ever made strange before."

"She looks the right age. Don't worry about it. You said her name is Punkin? Hey Punkin, want me to read to you?"

Ever the child of nerds, Punkin warmed up considerably when he was reading, but she was still suspicious enough that she wouldn't sit beside him. She would stand near him, for seconds at a time.

Finally, we got a good picture.


I think my Punkin is a pretty little thing. Her hair looks... um... not great. It's cold and dry here, so the static is insane, and I'm not the kind of person that can successfully style my own hair, let alone a wiggly 2 year olds.


p.s. Yes, she looks tired. And not terribly happy.

On days like these...

You wish you didn't have to leave the house. It is -27 celcius out. That's -16.6 F, my American friends.

I believe this qualifies as colder than the proverbial witch's bosom.



And I have to go pick up Punkin's Santa pictures and buy Beaker a Christmas present (we're so broke we were both going to forego gifts to one another, but his quarterly bonus came today, so I can get him a present).

I would procrastinate on this (in fact, I am procrastinating by writing this), but a) Punkin's Santa picture is so funny I want to write about it and b) it's supposed to be getting colder leading up to Christmas day. So there's no point in saying 'oh, I'll get it tomorrow' because tomorrow will be colder. Also, tomorrow will be the last saturday before Christmas and the ONE mall in Hometown was insanely busy yesterday morning when we took Punkin to see Santa. On a Thursday.

Ick. Cold. I think I'll go start the car before I get dressed.

The Ultimate 'Done' List

I hijacked this from Kate because it's still cold, I'm still trying to avoid leaving the house, and I am still completely stir crazy from being cooped up...

1. Started your own blog*
2. Slept under the stars*
3. Played in a band*
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower*
6. Given more than you can afford to charity*
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain*
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo*
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch*
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning*
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables*
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight*
22. Hitch hiked*
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill*
24. Built a snow fort*
25. Held a lamb (one of my best girlfriends breeds shetland, but I've only petted them)
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse*
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset*
31. Hit a home run*
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors* (sorta. I realized after I'd been to Massachusetts and New Hampshire that I had history in New Hampshire)
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied* (When we lived in Alberta between Beaker and myself we were more than comfortable)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke*
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight*
46. Been transported in an ambulance*
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain*
53. Played in the mud*
54. Gone to a drive-in theater*
55. Been in a movie* (I wound up on the cutting room floor actually)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business*
58. Taken a martial arts class* (So long as armoured combat counts -it's a western martial art)
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen*
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies*
62. Gone whale watching*
63. Got flowers for no reason*
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma* (Well, sorta...)
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a cheque
68. Flown in a helicopter*
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy*
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt*
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone*
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (not an entire book!)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper*
85. Read the entire Bible*
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox*
89. Saved someone’s life* (This is a gimme. I'm a nurse)
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous*
92. Joined a book club*
93. Lost a loved one*
94. Had a baby*
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit*
98. Owned a cell phone*
99. Been stung by a bee*


There you have it.

Cabin Fever

It is -20 with a windchill that brings the temperature down to -33 this morning. Baby, it's C-C-c-cold outside. And for some unexplainable reason, I am absolutely stir crazy. I want to leave the house and go shopping. I want to go for lunch, visit friends, anything, so long as I am out of the house.

In this ridiculous cold.

Yesterday, Punkin and I were out getting the last Christmas present on the list. The temperature was dropping as fast as the sun was setting. It was almost dark, and 3:30 - we're getting close to the shortest day of the year now. I bundled Punkin up against the cold, pulled her mittens over her hands, zipped her coat to the top and pulled on her hood. I put my mittens on, and buttoned my coat. And headed out into the wind and cold.

Halfway to the car (which was about 20 meters away), Punkin decided it would be a good idea to pull her mittens off.

She screamed the entire drive home about how cold her hands were.


So going out? Not exactly an option. I was thinking maybe I could bake my way out of the monotony of the next few days until Beaker is home, but we don't have enough baking supplies, which would... require a trip out.

And every time I contemplate packing Punkin up, I hear the echo of those screams in my ears again, and just. can't. do. it.




The good news? No matter how cold it is on Tuesday, I'll be packing Punkin up so we can head to the airport to pick up Beaker for his three weeks off over Christmas. YAY!

A Letter For Christmas

December 11, 2008

Attn: Ms. Medley Harmony
Director of Musical Inspiration
Christmas Cheer and Spirit Department
North Pole, Canada
H0H 0H0


Ms. Harmony;

There are few things I enjoy more about the Christmas season than that for which your department is responsible. Christmas music is what makes the season for our family. You see, we live in an area that, while much further south than you, still is afflicted by winter for half the year. Christmas music helps to remind us that the season is again upon us, and that it is not say, Halloween or Easter.

Past classics like White Christmas and Silent Night bring a swell to my heart. As you are likely well aware, Christmas tends to be one of those paradoxical holidays for many people, and I am no different. When I was 12, my beloved grandfather suddenly passed from a rapidly metastasizing cancer just two weeks before Christmas. Two years ago, the day before my daughter was born, his wife passed. It was 4 days before Christmas. For these reasons, I tend to find Christmas a difficult holiday.I am not writing you, Ms. Harmony, to elicit pity or sympathy. I just want there to be some background to the heart of my letter.

I have some serious concerns about the License for Musical Merriment that you have issued to the country music community. I'm sure you did your research before granting the license, and are aware of the stereotype surrounding country music. I'm not questioning your abilities to do your job, as I am certain you issued the license with the addenda that there were to be no wives deserting husbands, and dogs dying or running away. So far as my research suggests, the country music community is following this to the letter of the law.

The spirit of the law, however, seems to be being missed.

It was bad enough when Bob Carlisle released Christmas Shoes, the horrifyingly depressing ballad about a little boy wanting to buy his dying mother a pair of shoes so she will 'look beautiful if [she] sees Jesus tonight'. This is not an uplifting or merry-making song. It's a morbid reminder to everyone who has ever suffered a Christmas season loss that Christmas really can suck.

As though that weren't bad enough, this week, while running errands, I happened to hear Santa, I'm right here by Toby Keith. If you have missed this particular gem, as I know you are terribly busy, let me give you a run down. The singer finds a letter to Santa on the street. It is from a little boy who has become homeless and is worried Santa won't be able to find him on Christmas. But the little fellow isn't concerned with presents for himself, noooo, he wants Mommy to have a new warm winter coat, and Daddy to get a job helping Santa make presents.

I won't presume to insult you by suggesting you are not aware of the global economic crisis. I am sure there are many people this Christmas who are in similar situations at the boy in the song. I don't understand why a Christmas song should remind people of this terrible possibility.

Christmas music should allow regular people to suspend the reality of their daily lives. It should be jolly, happy, romantic, fun, whimsical, reverent. There should be plenty of kissing under the mistletoe, reunions with absent family members, speculation about Santa and reminders of the true reason Christmas is celebrated. It should not be something that further brings the drudgery of our daily lives into the forefront of our thoughts.

I hope you will look into this concern. I have faith that whatever decision you come to, you have the expertise to execute it in the best interest of all Christmas revellers.

Sincerely,

Ella Brown

I've created a monster

A monster child, that is.

I'm not talking about behavioural issues either, although she is very near to the 'official' start of the terrible twos (13 more days) and acts every stinking inch of it...Speaking of inches....

Where was I? Right, monster child.

Here she is. My sweet, almost two year old Punkin:

Complete with bad hair and mischievous look on her face. I actually had to say 'stop running so Mummy can take your picture, please!' She looks kinda tall right? But not really, say above average for her age?

Here's her wall-of-measuring:

My most recent measurements are hard to see, but they are 5 days and 1 inch apart.

My little baby girl? Is three feet tall. Which is a little ridiculous. She towers over all the boys her age. Her first beau? Shorter and skinnier. Her newest beau, my prince's son? She's taller, and heavier. In fact, I can't think of any of the toddlers in her acquaintance that are as big as her.

We've made a monster. I guess it stands to reason, right? Beaker is 6'4" (he says 6'3", but I checked). I'm 5'7.75"ish (I round up to 5'8" because... well, because.) His sister? 6 feet. My brother? 6'2". My Dad? 6'2". His Dad? 6 feet. I'm actually among the shortest women on my Dad's side of the family. I'm the tallest on my Mum's, but Mum herself is 5'6", which is pretty tall for a woman born a month pre-term in 1950. The point is, our people are a tall people.

I just didn't expect Punkin to get so tall so quickly.

The stupidity of working-out

By 'working-out' I don't mean exercise, I'm talking about Beaker's job away from home. I was recently interviewed by a woman who blogs for the New York times about what our life is like and what the challenges of long-distance parenting are. Then she interviewed me for her radio program on XM-Sirius (I missed the program though because it was on at 4am BC time). We discussed the challenges I face as a 'single parent' for three weeks of the month.

I'm very cautious about allowing that label to be applied to me. Essentially, yes, three weeks out of the month, I am a single mom. But I am not a single mom in reality - I have a loving spouse who makes a good enough wage that we scrape by on his salary alone. But we scrape by. There will be no impulsive buys this Christmas - if I can't make it, it won't get given. But I am not technically on my own.

Anyhow. The latest stupidity with Beaker's work is the scheduling over Christmas. He's been home this week. He goes back to work tomorrow. Usually his schedule is 3 weeks out, 1 week home...Not this time. The site shuts down for three weeks over Christmas, so Beaker is going back to work tomorrow morning for one freaking week.

So, in addition to the extra flight we had to pay for this month, he's also without pay 4 of the 5 weeks this month, and I have all the most expensive travel for my princess gig coming up in January and February... you know... when we won't have a paycheque until the end of January. Grrrrr.

There are times when I love the opportunities this company has given Beaker and our family. But right now is not one of them.

Snow!

I've been lamenting our lack of winter weather for a while now. I think I explained that part of the reason I am so fond of snow is because the limited natural light reflects off it and I get a bigger hit of real-and-not-compact-fluorescent lights during the shortened winter days. Keeping in mind that Hometown is above the 53rd parallel - we're not arctic, but we have short short winter days.

A few weeks ago, I was thrilled that there was snow coming down.

And then it rained. And the snow was gone and all was left was a brown and frosty lawn.

I didn't wiggle in excitement when it snowed the next time because it was just barely zero (celcius) out, and I knew the rain would be coming. And so it had, taunting me with snow another 3 times before raining it away. When I got home from Calgary this week, my driveway was a sheet of ice - there'd been some substantial snow, and then, again, rain while I was gone.

So yesterday when I heard we had a heavy snowfall warning, I didn't think anything of it. Particularly when, at 2pm, there was no snow falling (and I have a cold bad enough that I couldn't smell whether it was going to snow or not).

It started snowing somewhat half-heartedly at around 4pm. It was mostly powder though - the kind of snow you get when it's around 10 below, and when it snows like that, it never seems to accumulate. We'd been invited to dinner at Beaker's parent's house, and it was snowing a little more seriously. When we left after dinner, I needed to run up to the university to do some research. This is a task I can't often enjoy because Punkin is not the type of child you can take into a university library.

We got to the U and the wind was biting. We hurried into the building, and I ran off to do my research while Beaker occupied Punkin. We left, about an hour later, into a howling windy snowy landscape. Usually, from the university, you can see the lights of the city below. You could see nothing last night.

We got home and there was about 3 inches of snow on the ground.

When we got up this morning, less than 12 hours later, there was over a foot of snow outside. And it was still snowing. And now? Four hours more have passed, and it hasn't ceased snowing yet.

I am alternately in heaven and horrified. I won't deny I wanted snow, I just didn't want an entire year's worth of snow in one day. Beaker has been outside for the last 2 hours shoveling our 1-car-wide, 4-cars-long driveway. I think he's about halfway done. And all morning, even though there is no major roadway near our house, we've been hearing sirens.


And now? I hear we have rain in the forecast for this afternoon. Figures.

The Princess Diaries - Heirs at last

This weekend past, I found myself traveling again. When you are a little girl and hear tales of princesses as shared by the bard Walt of Disney, you never learn that princesses spend a lot of time on the roads, traveling to see their people. You don't know that the coronet itself is a heavy weight to carry, nor do you know that the responsibility entwined with the coronet is an equally, if metaphorically, heavy burden. You just see the pretty pretty princess and the happily ever after.

My prince had called for a tournament. As he is not my love, and I am not his, we have no issue to call our own heir by blood, and as such, we need to ensure our principality will not be left to ruin at our passing. Twenty-six of the best and brightest warriors in our land met in combat this weekend past to vie to be our heirs. My own brother-by-choice was among them, with his wife, a sister of my heart, inspiring his deeds upon the list field.

The tournament commenced and quickly dwindled to six warriors who would be heirs to our throne. All were worthy and deserving of the honour. Sadly, I saw my brother eliminated from the tournament immediately thereafter. Another fell, and another. The last three warriors standing were all brothers to my prince. One advanced to the final round. The next pairing met, two men who have known each other for years, call each other brother and have a great legacy and family that has descended from their knowledge and honour. One fell. And two were left.

The tournament halted for a moment. The fighters needed to gather themselves, take a quiet moment with their lady inspirations and process with due pomp onto the list field to be introduced again to my prince and I as the finalists in the tournament to determine our heirs.

They met, and clashed swords. The noise was deafening, the fighting furious. And eventually, one fell, and one stood triumphant, and we had our heir. Sweating, smiling and joyful, he knelt before me, his undoubted princess and awaited my words. I grasped his hands, and looked upon his noble face.

"You have fought with honour and skill, and you have made us proud. We will be thrilled to name you our heir tonight in court."

I helped him to his feet, and embraced my 'son'. I went to his inspiration and embraced my 'daughter'. I met with my 'sons' rival and congratulated him as well, for he brought honour to his inspiration and to our tournament field.

And I thought to myself; it is worth it, to travel frequently, to bear the literal and figurative burdens of the coronet, to be scrutinized in public, and criticized by some in private. It is worth it to share in such displays of chivalry, prowess and honour.

***

In the recreationist principality I live in, we have a tournament to determine the new prince and princess every 6 months. I was invested as heir to the throne in June of this year, and stepped up as princess in August. The tournament to find our heirs was this weekend past. We have now invested them and they will step up in February. The tournament is usually held as a round robin with a double elimination format - 2 losses and you are out of the tournament. Losses are determined by death, which is determined on an honour system of appraising blows received - a shot landed on an arm or leg results in the loss of a limb, but an ability to fight on, a blow to the head or torso results in death. The tournament to determine the new prince and princess is an exciting time, as it allows the seated royalty to start succession planning. There is a great deal of work that goes into a reign, more than most people would realize, and it's heartening to know that you have heirs.