Thunder

Helena spent part of the weekend at my mother-in-law's. I wasn't too keen on the arrangement at first, but it's just as well, cuz I slept 12 hours straight. It also gave me the chance to scrub the mould off the bathroom ceiling, from which my shoulders still ache.

J-F was home from work a few days last week and has been on antibiotics since Friday. Finally he's feeling better. He's had what I had a month ago — a very sore throat, with virtually no other typical cold or flu symptoms, except for the fatigue. There's a lot of fatigue.

He's also taken to pulling his turtleneck up over his face, stuffing a pillow under his shirt, and doing jumping jacks while yelling "Boohbah!" Must be the drugs.

Still no definitive verdict on Boohbah from this household. I've come to appreciate storyworld — the light, colour, texture, and movement are surreal and, to my mind, very attractive, like a storybook. Helena is enthralled by the physical exertions of the children and inspired to explore the possibilities of her own physicality. The Boohbahs themselves, though, are kind of creepy. I think it's the penis-heads.

Contrary to all threats and promises, we had only 5 minutes of thunder the other night. I love thunderstorms. I want more.

Last week, the (man-made) lake in the park across the street still had snow along its banks. Half the lake. Rather, one of the two lakes connected by a trickle. The other, melted half-lake is already home to a couple of ducks, which materialized from I know not where.

We'll wander over today to ensure that the snow is in fact all gone.