Peanut butter cups

Are my new addiction.

At some point in the last year my American colleagues shared their stash of peanut butter cups with me. I've always been a peanut butter (and chocolate) fan, but hadn't missed it until they mentioned them.

But once I had that first peanut butter cup in Krakow, I was hooked.

Since then, I've had a few people bring me over peanut butter cups, which I try to ration to a cup a day or less. Sadly rationing has gone out the window this week as my last visitors brought me a bulk box of king size cups, which come in packs of two.

I didn't know king sized peanut butter cups even existed.

I prefer not not to think about how many calories are in each one and just savour the peanut butter chocolatey goodness while the box lasts. Which likely won't be long . . .

And her name is Mia

I finally got in touch with my little brother tonight, and found out more about my new niece (I did find out her name, via email, a few days after she was born).

Some days living on a different continent from the rest of my family seems like a crazy thing to be doing.

Hooray!

I have a new niece! She was born in Vancouver on Sunday morning at approximately 7:30 am and weighs close to 7 pounds 4 ounces.

That's all I know. She's still waiting for her name to reveal itself.

It seems amazing, yet completely right, that you can love someone you've never met, heard, or even seen a picture of.

Welcome little girl, I can't wait to meet you one day soon.

Canada needs more dragons

I never realized how dragon deprived I was growing up until I moved to Krakow, a city full of castles and dragons, including one that breathes fire.

This is the only dragon I consorted with as a child in Alberta:

It's a bird, it's a plane

Sometime in May or June, I don't remember exactly when, only that it was a rare Saturday without a guest, I checked out the annual dragon parade in Krakow. This year's version was led by this giant flying beast



The beast swooped and soared, and much to the delight of the gathered crowd, came perilously close to landing on the masses. Instead of fear, the beast inspired joy in the hearts of all (including me) who were lucky enough to touch his giant head as he sailed down upon us.



And if he were to turn nasty, we were lucky enough to have these knights to protect us. I am particularly fond of the knight wielding the cooler lid as a shield.

Cat, cat, cat

Like all my houseguests, Sofie was fascinated by Flannery and Small. Most guests, however, do not run after the cats, yelling "cat, cat, cat" at the top of their lungs.

It took Sofie only a few tries to be able to pronounce Flannery correctly, but throughout the week she insisted on calling Small Tiny.

L told me yesterday that Sofie now refers to all cats as Flannery. And kisses the cat page in her animal book. Apparently Sofie's strongest memory of her trip to Poland (her father's birthplace), is of my cats.

Flannery and Small miss their petite admirer. It's not often their every move is greeted with such enthusiasm: "cat going Mama", "Mama, cat", "see cat" and my personal fav, "Who dat?" whenever a cat walked by.

And Tiny never even bit her.

And . . .

I just planned two more trips for later this fall. So much for boycotting air travel.