It won't be long now ... !

I'm drunk!

Happy Birthday, Mama ...

Моя мати, моє серце ...

Check!

So much to do! I have made lists ... and then I've made lists of lists that I have to make ... and just when I manage to scratch an item off a list, I'll get a text or call from either Julia or K and have to add another item (or more!) to one list or another. Got a few things knocked out last week and several just this morning alone ... then I spoke to K ... and I'm back to adding to one of the lists again! Oh well, this has been in the plans for so long; if I could pack up a household and move an entire family to Europe in the span of 3 months, this should be a cakewalk!

... and I do so love cake!

Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice ...

The last time that Julia and I were on an airplane together was fourteen years ago. 9-11 had not yet occurred, so air travel was very different; Julia was 7 and obeyed me more often than not; and the excitement level was high - we were moving home and family from one continent to another ... to be home again and with family again. 

Things were a little different this time around. Airport security dictates that we allocate more time and effort to be screened, and Julia is now almost 21 and definitely has a mind of her own. The excitement level, however, was still high - this was a trip that she had been anticipating for quite some time now. The flight to LAX was fun - we watched a movie on the laptop, her cellphone got a workout from the pics and videos that she poured into Snapchat non-stop, and things must have gone well since we were still speaking to each other by the time we landed, both our sanities intact!

K met us at the airport and we headed to the new digs. Despite having shopped for condos online and having K sending me pics of the place, it was way nicer than what I had imagined. It's a gated community (something that was very important to both K and me), is walking distance to many things like the supermarket, the drugstore, the mall ... and (most importantly to K) Starbucks. A garage for my car, a parking stall for K, and a pool and hot tub for Julia. Two bedrooms (with lots of closet space), two washrooms, and a circular staircase that you take to go up to the loft. The condo also has three balconies: the front balcony (also accessible form the kitchen), the back balcony (accessible from both the living room and our bedroom), and one off of the loft (for those romantic evenings spent sipping wine and gazing at the stars). It immediately felt like home and having K stock the pantry with some of my favourites like Jif (only the best peanut butter in the US North America the world!) and oyster crackers from Trader Joe's (they should just call them oyster crack and be done with it!) didn't hurt. K even bought bed sheets in my favourite colour! The furniture that we had picked out was delivered and set up and while there are still things to get and personal touches to make, the place was just perfect. K cooked dinner for us that first night and we all had such a lovely evening. Julia really seemed to like the place and her new room; I don't think settling will be a problem for her. The cherry on the sundae? This gated community borders on Summit Park, a beautifully maintained enclosed park with tennis courts, a walking/jogging track, loads of space for Jack to explore ... and it opens to several trails to hike. BONUS!

I had a chance to meet one of our neighbours while I was there. Kate came by with her daughter in search of their cat. She welcomed us to the neighbourhood and we promised that we would keep an eye out for her stray. That night, while taking a walk after dinner, we came upon a cat who fit the description that we had been given. While K and Julia stayed there to keep an eye on the cat, I headed back to the condo to get Kate. On my way there, I ran into another cat who could just as easily have been the lost kitty. He seemed friendly so I coaxed him toward me and scooped him up, then raced back to the condo. Opening the door, Kate took a look at the cat in my arms, laughed and said, "Oh no, that's Bentley (or some other strange, non-catlike name). We found our cat!" I turned and went to place Bentley (or whoever he was) back where I'd found him, all the while feeling like the world's biggest cat napper!

Julia had a couple of goals that she wanted to fulfill on this trip - to work on her tan and to hit the beach. She managed to do both - she tanned every day and one afternoon, we drove down to Zuma Beach ... where she tanned some more. Another goal of the trip was to visit College of the Canyons, where Julia is planning to apply for the fall session. I had booked a tour before she and I left for the trip; the woman who took us around was gracious enough to spend a full two hours with us, walking us around the campus and explaining a plethora of things as she went along. Julia really enjoyed the visit; the campus is really beautiful, the college has a lot to offer its students, and it's extremely close to the condo. Julia and I hit the mall another afternoon, and she got to spend loads of time at the pool back at the condo. Then there was the day that we went to The Cheesecake Factory and were seated in a booth behind the booth where Brandy was having lunch. Yeah, all in all, it was a really gruelling trip for her!

Julia's first meeting with the Pacific - Zuma Beach

It wouldn't be a visit to Cali without a visit to In-N-Out

We celebrated our last night in California with an outing to the Salt Creek Grille. This place has THE best bruschetta EVER. We all gorged ourselves on steak (I've never seen my daughter inhale meat like that ... she is definitely her father's daughter!) and we barely had time for dessert. It was a lovely evening and we all had a wonderful time.

Caramel Apple Cheesecake. Trust me, it looked more appetizing on the plate!

The next afternoon, it was time to leave out home-away-from-home and head back north. And now, the wait begins ... waiting to hear back from the college and waiting for out next trip back. In the meantime, I'll be sending K links and following the ones that he sends me ... who knew that long-distance furniture shopping could be this much fun?!?


"Best way to live in California is to be from somewheres else."
- Cormac McCarthy, No Place for Old Men

∞ ∞ ∞  ¡ ! ¡   * * *  UPDATE * * *    ¡ ! ¡  ∞ ∞ ∞

Julia has been accepted at COC for the fall semester! We are Cali bound, baby!!!

Remember ...

The stuff that weekends are made of ...

... and last weekend was a BEAUT! K made it into the country (just barely) for his daughter's graduation and started and ended his trip with visits to Montreal ... and me! We had such a marvelous time (when don't we?) and crammed so much into so little time. In no particular order of time or importance: Towne Hall in Dorval (Prosciutto di Parma & Melon/Israeli Couscous & Grilled Vegetable Tower/Orzo with Black Tiger Shrimp & chorizo Sausage). The second game between LA and NY was on and Billy, the manager, came over to talk hockey after providing us with cappuccinos as we closed the place down. Great food, great evening. Bistro Beaux Lieux in Sutton (La crêpe du légumivore/Le Club du Beaux lieux). After a lovely drive, we dined al fresco and discovered that Sutton water tastes amazing with a capital A! We crossed the street to a local 'bar laitier' where we came across THE richest soft serve either of us have ever had. Fully stuffed, we began the quest to find avocados in Sutton (not an easy feat!) before heading back to Repentigny to have dinner with the kids. Basha on Drummond (K loves his Basha!) before hitting Passport Canada for K's replacement (which won't 'disappear' this time!) then off to Starbuck's to celebrate ... and compare passports (the newer ones are smaller and much cooler!)

All good things must come to an end, though - until next time, that is ... so it's more like "to be continued" ...

Towne Hall - K and I had one of those romantic circular booths ...

Missing Babcia ...

It's been exactly a year since I last saw Babcia. I miss her terribly.

After having lost all my grandparents when I was in my early 20's, I was lucky enough to have been given the gift of Babcia. K introduced us back in 2011 on one of his visits to Montreal; soon after, I began visiting her on my own. The visits were never a chore - we would sit for hours while she shared stories of her past, stories of K's childhood. We would hold hands while she asked me about my kids and Jack. She always asked about Jack. I would bring her up to speed on my kids and on K's kids. Later, I would call K and share with him everything the nurses had told me about her health, as well as everything Babcia had told me. Well, everything 'cept the things she had asked me to keep secret, that is. Many times, K would be surprised to learn something about his own past (or Babcia's) that he had never known. Finally, I would send him that visit's video. Before leaving Babcia each time, I would record a video for K (or his kids) ... Babcia sending him (or them) a brief message, her blessing, and her love. She became quite the video star.

K and I would often marvel at Babcia's memory. Never was there a time when she would repeat herself when telling us stories. Sometimes, she would refer to something that she had already told me, reminding me that I already knew such and such before continuing the new story. But rehashing anything? Babcia never did. A woman in her 90's and her memory was better than K's and mine combined.

Babcia didn't do a lot of complaining, despite being bedridden, and in pain a lot of the time. Something she didn't appreciate too much was the food at the home, to the point where she wouldn't eat a lot and would subsequently lose weight. Trying to prevent this, I started bringing her meals when I would visit, in hopes of finding something that would get her to eat. Borscht was one of those things. She would tuck in to the bowl and not look up again until swallowing the last spoonful. Other times, she would make special requests - cold cuts and rye bread from Zytynsky's, Ginger Ale, or a pasta dish that she asked me for several times. As I prepped the plate for her, she would ask the inevitable (inevitable for her!) question ... "Did you put in a lot of onions?" Ahhhh, Babcia and her onions!

At this time last year, I had received a call from the Polish Home telling me that she had been brought to the hospital. Not an uncommon event, given her age, her frail health, and the fact that I was her emergency contact here in town. After giving K a quick call, I raced to the hospital. Babcia was worse than I had ever seen her. She was non-reactive, her breathing was laboured, her hands were ice cold, and she needed assistance to breathe. As luck would have it, the pneumologist had just examined her and was able to fill me in on her condition. He didn't make it sound good. I decided then to tell K to hop on a flight and get here as quickly as he could. Then I went back to Babcia's room and begged her to hold on. Unsure of whether or not she could hear me, I told her that K was coming to see her and that she had to stay until he got there. After picking him up at the airport the following day, we headed back to the hospital. I tried as best I could to prepare K for how sick Babcia looked, for how un-Babcia she seemed. We donned gowns and pulled on gloves before heading into Babcia's room. K leaned over and spoke to his grandmother and this woman, who hadn't opened her eyes, who hadn't taken a breath without the aide of a respirator, who hadn't moved a muscle ... slowly and just barely moved her hand. I was shocked.  But then again, why wouldn't she have made the effort for her beloved K? He spoke to her for a while and then he and I sat down. We stayed there all afternoon, the hiss of the respirator as our soundtrack, and watched as the staff came and went. Luck was on our side again, because the pneumologist came by again and K got to speak to him about Babcia's prognosis. The doctor brought up the question of not resuscitating Babcia should she deteriorate to that point, a subject that I also tried to discuss with K. Yeah, it was that serious. The doctor left and we sat back down. As evening approached, we decided to leave and get some dinner. K walked over the side of Babcia's bed and leaned over. Taking her hand, he told Babcia that we were going to eat and that we'd be back in the morning. Babcia slowly and just barely nodded, surprising us both.

Babcia passed away before dawn, before we returned to the hospital. I'm convinced that this wonderful woman had held on for her treasured K, but then made sure to spare him having to see her pass away. This woman, who had lived a very hard life without complaints, who had sacrificed much to raise her only grandson, this woman whom I had come to love as much as my own grandmothers, was gone.

I miss hearing Babcia's voice calling me 'Elainey'. I miss how she could never quite grasp what K does for a living, despite him explaining it to her on several occasions. I miss hearing her talk about her dog, Skippy ... the white one or the brown one. I miss the tales about St-Calixte. I will miss spending Christmas with her, as I done for her last two Christmases. I miss the way she would smile at me, which was nothing like the million watt smile she would wear when her K would come to visit. I miss so many things about Babcia and our visits. But I'll always be grateful that K shared his Babcia with me.