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Before I get too far into the story below, I should tell you that my father’s side of the family is British. As in, they emmigrated from England to Canada in 1956 and they all have accents (mostly). And ones I can’t really hear most of the time. I can slip into one at will, too. I’ve found when my half-deaf grandfather can’t make out what I’m saying, I just rephrase it to be more British, with an accent and then suddenly he understands me.

My longish point there is we still have family “over there”, and every Christmas we all exchange cards and our cousins send over a monstously huge 1 kilo bar of English Cadbury’s milk chocolate. It is slightly different than the Canadian Cadbury’s chocolate, is why.

So last Thursday, there I was, out and about doing my shopping. (See? The British phraseology is slipping in there. Between this and the over-indulgence of Jane Austen over the holidays, we should just pack our bags and head back to the Queen.) The children were naturally with me, and we split up when we went to the mall.

Sarah came running up to me as I was once again perusing the scrapbook aisle of the Great Canadian Dollar Store.

“Mom! In Shopper’s they have a big Cadbury bar! And it’s on SALE! And it’s the LAST ONE!”

At this point we had no word about the annual chocolate from England, only that it was somewhere between here and there. Ron had said if ever we saw one of those bars here, we should grab it. We *had* seen it before, but it was elusive. Always when we didn’t have the extra cash, or it was heavily pre-holiday priced.  I hemmed and hawed a bit, waffled some more, and in the end got it. The clerk even thanked me profusely for “getting rid of it”.

On the way home, we stopped at the post office to pick up the mail. Sarah came back to the car grinning, carrying an armload of packages. She tossed one to me. “Guess what Mom? It’s from England!” It was suspiciously chocolate-bar sized. Now, normally the cousins send the whole thing to my aunt, and she divvies it up and sends along our portion. But I suddenly thought, what if it had been done on their end?

I laughed and laughed.

When we got back to the house, I opened up the parcel, and instead of chocolate, there was a book. I gotta tell you, I actually love new books *more* than chocolate. It’s true. Even better, it was a book our cousin had co-authored, AND it was on a portion of British history. Enclosed was a note stating he hoped we liked it.

I think I may have swooned.

The Battle of St Albans tells the story of two epic battles during the War of the Roses. These took place in the city of St Albans, which not only stands today, but that’s where some of my family now lives. The authors help clear up some of the confusion and legend surrounding the War of the Roses, explaining the political landscape of the time. They bring the battlefields to life, thorough series of diagrams, modern-day photographs of actual places and generous descriptions of the time and places. There’s even pictures of reenactments of soldier’s uniforms and fighting techniques, even snippets of text from documents from that time frame, in the  participant’s own words.

As Emma and I flipped through the book, we seriously got lost in the 15th century. We were immersed. And I longed for England once again. Mike did a bang-up job, and I’m sure our family could not have been more proud.
Back to the book - it’s jam-packed at 182 pages, 5.5″ x 8″ bound format and loads of b&w photos. By the time I got to the back cover, I was absolutely delighted to find it was part of a series of books based on all sorts of battles in Britain - all the way up through the Second World War. I immediately though of all our homeschooling and/or history buff friends who would *love* to get their hands on such books.

You can buy the book on Amazon.com  and visit the publiser’s site, Pen and Sword books for more historic battles. I’ll be over here, curled up with the book, noshing on chocolate.

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Since most of my family reads my blog, I have to list our holiday wishlists so that everyone can find them in one central location.

Me: anything from the scrapbooking aisle, cardstock - any color any size, blank cards for cardmaking, pens, notebooks (ie; anything from the stationary aisle), movie & cd gift cards, books, Amazon wishlist here. A large stack of second-hand romance novels (especially historic ones) would make me squee.

Ron: He shops at Canadian Tire, Home Hardware and Tim Horton’s. Also, I have noted some items for him on the wishlist linked above. We really like watching movies together. (That is a really broad and non-subtle hint. We like action with minimal swearing or blood, and romance/comedy with minimal n00ds. If it was released in the past year or two, we probably haven’t seen it. Used or previously rented movies are good gifts, we think.)

Sarah: her wishlists are here and here. Books, music and tshirts make her happy. Also, candy. And gift cards. It’s like free money.

Meaghan: wants gift cards too and has a wishlist here. It might need to be updated, I dunno. Some art stuff would probably be good too.

Emma: movies, tons of ‘em, clothes, board games, educational-type toys, and she’d probably love Chickadee mag.

Addison & Kaytlyn: house stuff (yes?), gift cards for house stuff. Also, cool stuff.

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On Sunday, our niece Betty Jo called and asked if their family could come up for a visit. I said sure, hung up the phone and then proceded to panic. I even had to hustle some people out of bed. They woke up fast with the news. We held a family meeting around the dining room table with our cleaning plan of attack. Mostly it was pick up everything off the floor, make sure all the toys are in the playroom and hide everything sharp.

Oh, I forgot to mention - BJ & Greg have 5 children aged from seven on down to a few months. Three of them are boys. Batten the hatches!

By the time they got here and tumbled out of their vehicle, with PUPPY and 4-wheeler in tow, we were all ready. Partway through our long and wandering conversation and house tour, I realized I probably should have laid out a snack. This was confirmed when we got back inside and discovered two of the boys making microwave popcorn under Meaghan’s supervision. We then proceeded to eat every snack we had on hand. It was GREAT! I have forgotten how much small children can eat, especially in a herd. The inherent “make sure everyone has the same sized cup and a straw is” still automatic to me though.

Greg drove around the yard for a bit, giving the kids turns on the 4wheeler, and I was almost bowled over by E, who is no bigger than minute. “IgottagowifmyDad,” she muttered as soon as she heard the engine. Good thing she was wearing a jumper, as they are handy to grab running children with. I then helped her outside to her dad. She is outright adorable, and growing up with 3 older brothers is a tough little gal. This picture says it all, I think.

And we played pass-the-baby. Although I think Ron and Sarah did most of the holding. (Not that I’m counting, really.) The baby sure loved it.

I had to speak to Emma beforehand and remind her that although it is fabulous she shares all her toys, it was not necessary (and possibly not desired by BJ) that Emma give away her toys to the kids. I reminded her we had a bag of clothes and a couple of too-small dressup costumes for them.

She still tried to give them stuff. It was cute, though.

There was only one bout of tears when Emma came to us with a broken fishing rod. Both moms did the Calcualtion of Angst and Comfort. This takes in consideration the following factors:
- how loved the toy
- if the toy has been forgotten in the past
- how expensive / cheap it was

Given it was a dollar store item and was recently redicovered after hiding in the playroom, we declared it a non-emergency and it was forgotten in five minutes. Also, when asked which kid helped break it, Emma bellowed, “THE BLONDE ONE!” We all laughed. They are all towheads.

Eventually, we did a head count, rounded up shoes, gave out hugs, kisses, more hugs, and they left. I did assure BJ that yes, one day it will not be quite so much chaos. People will sleep in and you will be able to go more than five seconds without hearing “MOOOOOOM!”and some rooms will stay clean-ish for more than 30 seconds. I know I clung to that hope for years.

You know, it’s funny. I enjoy kids. I enjoyed mine, and I love when people come to visit. But I don’t know how I ever did it! It was exhausting! (She knows we love them!)

And today I discovered than soemone with little fingers must have turned up the temperature in our fridge. The ice in the milk was the kicker. Also, we eventually got all the movies back in their cases and off the floor.

Ahhh… kids.

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So Addison, Kaytlyn, Mom and Carl are all decending on our house for the big dinner today. It’s Thanksgiving weekend up here in Canukistan, you know.

Of course, Mom decided two days ago that she could come, Emma - who was recovering - slowly slid back into the not feeling good and was throwing up (because of a runny nose, not a virus), Sarah got a sore throat yesterday and now has no voice, and the ceiling above the table with the big hole where the plumbing was repaired now lets go of some plaster at irregular intervals.

I am thinking this is going to be a very interesting day.

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Something must have struck us lately, for most of the week we’ve been somewhat zombie-fied, tired andlethargic. No other sick symptoms than a runny nose, which I chalked up to allergies or reactions to all the dust from the fields. One night we even just lay there watching a movie in my bedroom - with no sound but the subtitles on.

It wasn’t until I tried to scrunch lower down under the covers that I realized someone short-sheet my bed. I leaned over and smacked Ron on the arm. “WHAT?” he laughed. Sarah came in while I was still ranting at Ron, and she was grinning. You’d think with her birthday around the corner she’d wouldn’t be up to no good like that.

Otherwise, it’s been quiet. Ron did redo the dryer vent to the outside. I wanted to take pictures of the before and after, but he said it’d require too much explaining and was too head-shaking. We also stood around in the basement looking at the plumbing. It is a spectacular example of how to use as much pipe as possible. One section even does a u-turn, and anothe, instead of going straight across, goes left then two rights to get to the same point. Pictures when we get to fixing that who knows when.
We had weird weather too. It was cloudy, darkly overcast, sunny and hot, gale force winds then rain. And that was just YESTERDAY.

Fall colors are starting to get really bright here, so I think we may go on a photo hunt soon.

With the cold, we’re thinking about how we’d like to heat the house. There’s a sorry looking oil furnace down there, so we’re weighing the cost of gettign that running and a tank of oil (ew) versus something like a pellet stove.

And Thanksgiving is next weekend, so I have to cook for whoever is going to show up.

I know, I’m boring today. I had tons of ideas that all fly away when I open the “write post” window. *sigh* I bet a million little things will happen now.

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It all started when I cooked supper… yeah I know what you’re thinking. But seriously though - this time was totally not my fault. Except where maybe I could have mentioned it to Ron sooner.

Anyway. Supper was in the oven and I left the room just for a few moments. What?? I put the timer on this time! Then I heard Meaghan say those words again, “MOM?!? Something’s wrong with the OVEN!”

I hustled in to the kitchen to find a distressingly familiar bright orange glow emminating from the oven window. Technically, I have to insist there were no flames. I think. It was hard to tell. There was no smoke, so that’s a plus, right? That’s when Meaghan asked, “WHY do I have to be the one to ALWAYS WITNESS the kitchen being ON FIRE?”

But she was playing that for laughs. I think. So it was not actually on fire, just the element blew in a spectacular fashion. I *knew* it looked fishy in that spot. I turned off the oven part and was able to use the burner and fry dinner instead of bake it.

Then Ron came home and we decended upon him with the stoiry. He just shook his head and left the room.

(Dinner was good, by the way. Even Ron said so when he regained the power of speech.)

Edited a week later to add a pic of the element:

Those are not bubbles of burnt-on food, that’s what happened to the metal.

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