An Open Letter to the Powers That Be at Chipotle

Dear Sirs and/or Madams:

First, I must congratulate you on the awesomeness that is your restaurant. Fresh, tasty ingredients; a simple, yet varied menu; and a speediness of service that has me in and out in five minutes even during the lunch rush.

I am - as you are well aware - exceedingly fond of the vegetarian bowl. The rice and black beans (my favourite beans of all!) combine to create a complete protein, and the addition of fresh tomato salsa, a ladle-ful of guacamole, and a big ol' handful of lettuce makes it ever so tasty.

It was a stroke of genius (if I do say so myself) when I realized that the aforementioned vegetarian bowl, if both shaken and stirred, became a perfect chunky dip for those crispy, salty chips of yours. Truly, it is heaven in a disposable bowl. And all this for only $6.59 - really, it's an oasis of happiness in the middle of my day, particularly consumed while reading Oscar Wilde plays.

My one complaint, and the subject of this letter, is that the vegetarian bowl is simply too good. It calls me with its siren song each day. In fact, its lure extends 20 miles and 6 hours away to my kitchen each morning as I contemplate packing a lunch from home. Despite believing strongly in the economic and nutritional sense of brown-bagging it, and recognizing that this month's Amex bill will include a numerical value in the "Paid to Chipotle" line that will make your shareholders very happy, the thought of this majestic medley too oft proves overpowering.

So please, think of my bottom line. And my bottom (those chips ain't baked and that's a whole lotta guacamole). Can we come to some sort of compromise? Perhaps offer the vegetarian bowl only once a week? Then you shall have profits from my purchase 100% of the time you make it available, and my wallet will be fatter and my waist will be slimmer.

Yours most faithfully (if a bit too faithfully),

PM

Read more...

Overheard at the Supper Table the Other Night

The Girl: Daddy, let's do math. What's 81 times 81?

The Husband (reaching for the calculator - hey, he's an engineer, not a math teacher): 6561.

The Girl: How about 64 times 65?

The Husband: 4160

The Girl: What's 1057 plus 200?

The Husband (wearily): 1257

The Girl (starting to get a bit silly): What's a Daddy plus a Daddy?

The Boy (piping up from the corner where he's picking up all of the Uno cards he dropped):

"Mommy."

That's right, everybody.

Read more...

Your Tax Dollars at Work, Folks!

Many of you will remember the uproar surrounding Mr. Harper's Universal Child Care plan. Upon entering office, he put the kibosh on the already-announced Liberal childcare plan - the one that was going to create additional daycare spaces in order to reduce the burden on an overloaded system where waiting lists for spaces numbering in the single-digits were increasing to triple-digit heights and to start paying those saint-like daycare workers who have one of the hardest jobs in the world just a little bit more than their embarrassingly-low salary.

In his wisdom, he declared that it just wasn't fair to put money into a program that benefited only those families with two parents who work outside the home. What about all those families who sacrifice the spoils of dual income (you know, all those cabins and boats and European vacations and thrice-weekly-fancy-restaurant visits) to ensure that their children are raised in that hallowed haven of home?

To make sure things were even-Stephen, he decided to spread that money around - $100 a month per child - and let the parents decide. This would, he claimed, give all families the choice of childcare while giving them financial help to make those choices.

Dumbest. Idea. Ever.

First off, $100 goes almost nowhere when it comes to paying childcare bills. Is it helpful? Yes. Does it do much more than begin to cover costs? No.

Second, does $100 help someone who is frantically searching for a daycare spot? No. By removing the funding for all those additional spaces, he left a groaning, strained system stranded and thousands of desperate parents high and dry.

Third, does $100 mean that a family that would otherwise be forced into having both parents work can afford to have one parent stay at home? Or let the struggling single parent who chooses work over welfare the third option of financial security while staying at home? No.

(At least, I have never met someone who said, "gosh darn it, I absolutely hate it that I have to work outside the home and we all wish that I could stay home with my precious children who are miserable in a daycare centre all day but my salary after we pay the exorbitant daycare bills nets us $100 a month that we simply need to survive.")

Bottom line is that $100/month is nice to have, but doesn't really help either the dual-income families or single-parent families (who need way more than $100 to pay their bills if they are lucky enough to have a spot) or the single-income families (whose decision to have a parent at home mostly likely didn't hinge on that $100 in the first place). In addition, this "benefit" is taxable - so we're not even talking about $1200 per child per year.

By the way, I had a vested interest in this question. When I was on my own with the kids, my ability to remain independent and afloat was heavily reliant on a) available government-subsidized spaces and b) a sliding payment scale (again, government-subsidized). Even though this whole childcare program debate came about when I was no longer requiring those government subsidies, I was vocally supportive of sticking with the Liberal plan, even though it meant I wouldn't see Stephen's $100/month at all.

But nobody listened to me, and I just had to shrug my shoulders and put my $1200/year/per chlid/after tax towards my mounting childcare costs and commiserate with other desperate parents as we searched in vain for open spaces.

After we moved, I sort-of-kind-of-maybe-just-a-bit-intentionally forgot to inform the CRA that I'd moved to the States. It wasn't really malicious or sneaky; I just figured everything would come out in the wash at tax time. And since I wasn't using my Canadian bank account very often, it was pretty easy to sort-of-kind-of-maybe-just-a-bit-intentionally not notice that I was still receiving the $100/month Universal Child Care benefit.

(You know - my beer and popcorn money.)

So, right around tax time, and after finally noticing the dire warning that if I didn't inform them immediately of my change in residence, something on the "very bad" scale would happen, I called in. To the actual Universal Child Care department. Where I was informed that my change of address was now recorded in their system and, (I quote), "I guess they'll contact you if they want any money back."

Figuring I'd done my civic duty, and that money would stop appearing in my account monthly and a letter demanding the return of all monies received while no longer a resident would appear shortly, I left it at that. I was a bit puzzled when I didn't receive a letter, and when money kept showing up for a couple of months, but I figured, hey, bureaucracy's a big ship, it takes awhile to turn it.

I got a letter today.

Addressed to me personally. At the address at which I now reside. As in, not a Canadian address. Right there in black and white - USA.

It informs me that I continue to qualify for the childcare benefit for 2008 and that deposits will continue to be made directly. Oh, and to let them know immediately if my address has changed, otherwise payments will be discontinued.

So, to recap: a non-Canadian resident receives a letter that is addressed to her at her non-Canadian address informing her of her eligibility to receive a Canadian benefit.

This isn't a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing - this is a case of the left hand not having a hot clue.

Of course, far be it from me to complain about free money, even if it is technically unmerited. Unfortunately, given what I know about this particular left hand, it will suddenly realize in 2015 that I received a year's worth of benefits incorrectly, and only then will I receive the request to return the money. With interest.

Just thought y'all might like to know that the system continues to work. And that Mr. Harper's brilliant child care plan (you know, the one that promised equal opportunities for all parents) is so successful that its benefits extend beyond Canadian borders and are subsidizing the American childcare system in addition to not doing any good back at home.

Read more...

Allergy Update (Plus Bonus Heart Murmur Discussion!)

Got in to see the allergist today. He was super nice and we definitely felt confident in his opinion. Unfortunately, we're in kind of nebulous territory as far as The Boy's allergies are concerned, so that opinion was less hard-lined than we might have liked.

What I had really wanted was a scratch test of all likely allergens (despite the fact that The Boy was decidedly uncooperative - he's had one surprise immunization too many and now starts screaming as soon as the car stops outside any unknown "appointment"), a clear sense of how severe his peanut allergy is, and an easy-to-read scale of possible reaction symptoms with a "you are here" arrow when it's time to pull out the ol' epi-pen. I want to know *exactly* what I'm dealing with and I want a "no-fly" list at the ready anytime I'm faced with an ingredient list, a fur- or feather-bearing creature, or a microcosmic portion of the outdoors.

I got none of the above. Given our description of the peanut-related episodes, the allergist said we will proceed under the assumption that he *is* allergic, and no test is going to give us a real indication of the severity that would alter how we choose to manage that assumption. We could get a blood test, but it wouldn't do much more than provide us with a baseline as to how likely it is that reactions are due to allergies. Basically it's like administering a pregnancy test in your first trimester - you already know you're pregnant, and the pink line isn't gonna tell you a whole lot about *how* pregnant you are.

The scratch test was out given The Boy's current mild cold and his eczema - apparently kids with skin conditions are known for giving false positives, so a scratch test wouldn't necessarily be worth it.

Our sense is that The Boy has a relatively mild allergy, for which we are thankful; our allergist said that he wasn't of a strong opinion for or against further testing (an indication of his own level of comfort with the knowledge - or lack of it - we have right now), so we decided to wait.

We do have an action plan now, which basically tells us that anything more than mild eye watering requires speedy administration of an injection plus a quick call to 911. But armed with little more than a list of symptoms and an admonition to err on the side of caution (read: don't hesitate to stick a needle into your kid), we're not much further ahead than we were before.

Oh, and there was this post-stethescope comment: "Hmmm. Has anyone ever said anything to you about a heart murmur before?"

Sigh. Apparently it's probably nothing, and if it is something, it's very minor and almost surely benign, but it's something we're supposed to bring up with The Boy's doctor next time we bring him in. The Boy has a bit of a history of "hmmm's" turning into something a bit more major (a suspected ear infection ended up being double pneumonia and asthma, for instance), so my own heart is not entirely at ease on this point.

But it's not all bad. I'm glad he was looked at by someone who definitely knows his stuff, and we're reassured that there isn't cause for panic, just awareness and vigilance. Plus we also got some tips about The Boy's asthma regimen, so we'll just call that the silver lining, shall we?

Read more...

Weekend Recovery

Phew! Third busy weekend in a row! Every week I vow to spend at least 4 hours reading yet it never seems to happen.

This past weekend wasn't quite as driving-intensive as the previous two, but we did get our share of Jetta-bonding-time when we picked up the kids in Duluth. We had high hopes of hanging out around the harbour, but some cold, rainy weather thwarted our plans. We *did* get to eat at Sammy's Pizza, though. Good times.

Then home to a marathon cleaning session to get our house showroom ready for yesterday's showings. It sounds as though there are interested applicants, which is good, as this level of cleanliness is likely unsustainable.

Yesterday was church and then we headed over to Como Town which is basically like Tinkertown except a) the roller coaster banks so that riders don't rattle their bones around each corner and b) the play structure is open-air under some trees rather than a spaceship connected of heatstroke-inducing plastic tubes from which it is impossible to retrieve lost, crying children (not that that has ever happened to me).

Tigyr, Tigyr, burning bright
(She's a monkey, if you can't tell)

Fire brigade

Putting out the fire

[insert clever caption about a monkey on monkey bars here]

Dino-rider

You spin me right 'round baby, right 'round

Read more...

This 'n' That

Is it okay if I don't talk about the funeral? It was sad...and good...and hard. I'm just not up to blogging about it. But I will say that my opinion about double funeral plots has changed. I used to think it was macabre - going to visit the grave of one's spouse and being gruesomely reminded of where one (or, at least, one's body) will eventually end up. Now I think it must be very comforting to have such a visual reminder that this, too, shall pass.

I'm pretty much considering this week "recovery week." Being in Canada two weekends in a row was fairly stressful in terms of the home front, and I just got the fantastic treat at work of an ongoing, time-sensitive (i.e. daily *and* weekly *and* monthly deadlines) project that is voraciously eating up the time I used to spend working on - and worrying about - my other projects. There's the move looming and I have yet to pack a box (or call a moving company, for that matter). Basically I find myself in need of a personal assistant but with no Pepper Potts in sight, so I've decided to simply give up.

It does help that my children are not on the premises. They are on a week-long field trip with The Husband's parents, so we are going out every night in an effort to make up for 10 months' worth of sporadic and under-developed childcare. Last night was Tejas and Iron Man...mmm...and I mean Robert Downey Jr., not the guacamole. Tonight we're going to try an Indian place that looks awesome and then maybe trundle our curry-filled bellies over to see another movie.

Finally, to make you smile:

Read more...

Garage Sales, Gifts, and Grace

My Grandmother Peitasch was known for having garage sales. This might seem fairly normal, particularly among the Steinbach crowd. But she put together a garage sale Every. Single. Year. It was an amazing accomplishment for a woman who eschewed material possessions and who scorned spending massive amounts of money for herself. Somehow she managed to fill those tables in her garage with items that others might enjoy.

What brought many people was her fabled sommer borscht "packages." Every year, she would combine fresh garden greens, dill, parsley and green onions into saran-wrapped individual packets perfect for busy soup-makers on the go. Folks would come from miles around to load up on these packages and also to pick up some of her carefully-packaged seeds gleaned from her notable garden.

One year, Grandma asked me if I would come and sit at her garage sale for an hour. She had an appointment scheduled, and wanted someone to watch over things for her while she was away. So I did, and most gladly. We got in a nice visit and she fed me some lunch.

Then she offered me $10 for my time. I laughed and said, "Oh Grandma, you don't need to pay me; I was happy to do it and you even fed me while I was here."

She got very serious. She told me a story of when she had once similarly turned down an offer of thankfulness, and repeated to me the admonishment she had received at the time:

"When someone gives you a gift, you smile, and say, 'Thank you.'"

Those words have stayed with me ever since. I find it tremendously hard to accept anything, be it a tangible gift or an intangible compliment or word of affirmation. Yet my grandma taught me that day that the giving of a gift is as much for the giver's sake as it is for the receiver.

To reject a gift, no matter how much one feels one does not deserve it/need it/want to put the giver out, is to harm the giver. It says, "I care more about my own sense of equilibrium and my own control of my world than your desire to bring into it a small bit of the personal joy into your world."

She also taught me many other things about giving. I most often saw her on the giving end, with her door always open for anyone to drop by. I never left her house without something in hand, either for me or for my kids.

My grandma passed away this morning. She had been ill, but not in a way that made us think her passing was imminent. It's been a tough day, tougher I'm sure for those who are actually there to care for my grandpa and to make arrangements. We'll be heading back to Canada tomorrow in order to attend the funeral. And I'm sure I'll remember many more things about her as we drive.

It's a sad day.

Read more...

Piscatur Non Solum Piscator*

Some fishin' pics for you:

Goofing off

Chillin' while he waits for the fish to bite

The kids did the catching, but left the wrangling to the experts.

This looks like it would be fun. It was not.

Always the snuggling. Even on a boat in the middle of a lake.

* (Hi Bill!)

Read more...

You Can Take The Girl Out of The Prairie...

It all started last Tuesday with Canada Day. I almost need some air quotes around it - "Canada Day" (there, that's more like it). Resplendent in my "The Eh Team" t-shirt with maple leaf emblazoned across my chest, I headed off to work and...had a regular day. Canadian holidays are always tough - I know that most of the folks I hold near and dear are frolicking the day away while I toil the same as I do every other day among people oblivious to its importance.

Well, it wasn't entirely regular. I got to listen to CBC (for some reason, my computer at work has a love-hate relationship with that jewel of Canadian content, and successful connection is mystifyingly sporadic) and it was fabulous. Best of all was Eric Friesen reminiscing about being a little Mennonite boy in Altona and playing the Mennonite Concerto. I'm not ashamed to admit I surreptitiously wiped a few tears over that one.

But that was about it. For me, the for reals Canada Day started on Thursday evening, when I got my passport back from the Canadian border guard and we drove back into the north country. It was So. Good. to be back on Canadian soil. I only realize when I'm in Canada what a struggle it is to live in America. The tension of always feeling like an outsider, feeling like things are the same but different - it all disappears when I see that flat horizon.

And I realize how much I miss the prairie. Minneapolis may not be mountainous, but it certainly has its fair share of hills. I miss so much that landscape that stretches as far as the eye can see. I miss the canola fields, the broad expanse of sky, and that last edge of the sun slipping below the horizon.

You know where you stand on the prairie - quite literally. There's nothing around the next corner, or hidden over the next hill, to take you by surprise. The prairie makes no sudden movements, and although its very desolation can be perilous (see: Margaret Atwood, Survival), you can usually see trouble coming 10 miles away.

It was a good weekend, catching up with some (but always too few) folks. And catching fish - we took the kids fishing for the first time and the wanna-be Captain Highliners actually caught something, much to their parents' chagrin, who intentionally chose a lake known to have some of the poorest fishing around.

Sigh. It was so tough to get back in that car yesterday. Not so much that I dreaded 8 cramped hours with ornery, not-so-sweet-smelling children (that's pretty much par for the course already), but because Going Home becomes more bittersweet each time. It feels so effortless to slip back into the familiar, and somehow all the more wrenching to pull myself out of it.

But for now, Going Home (with all the accompanying difficulties) still beats sticking around here, so I'll continue to return frequently to the prairie and refill my oft-depleted reserves of wide horizons, sweeping skies, and warm embraces.

Read more...