Thursday, April 27, 2006

Of boys and shirts

Okay one boy and many shirts ...

B has an Oilers shirt, a Flames jersey, and he got a Senators T-shirt and cap in the mail yesterday. (These are NHL teams, for our friends Across The Border) It's play off season. He's having a blast.

Sunday we were on our way up to my brother's house in a City Near Us. My brother is a die-hard Oilers fan - we're Calgary fans. (almost. There's some Oiler loyalty buried deep) B put his Oilers shirt on underneath his Flames jersey and predicted, with great satisfaction: "I'm going to walk in and Uncle C is going to see me and throw me right out of his house and then I'm going to take off my Flames shirt and he's going to let me stay!"

5 minutes away from their house, he had to check. "What happens if Uncle C really actually throws me right out????"


Story #2

Senators shirt and cap arrived in the mail yesterday. B actually TOOK OFF his Flames jersey- "I guess I won't be needing this for a few days!" - and was very upset a few hours later when I wouldn't let him sleep in his new shirt. (He calmed down when I pointed out that if he slept in it, he couldn't wear it to school the next day.)
Imagine his horror this morning when he spilled milk on it, and it had to be washed before it could be worn.

I blame it on nurture

A is sitting at the table, humming and doing homework.

I walk in, lean over her and say "I'd like to lick your nose." (It's a lie. I didn't even know I was going to say it until it was out of my mouth.)

A doesn't take her eyes off her paper. She reaches into her bag of popcorn, hands me a piece and says "Lick this. It looks a bit like my nose."

A post of the caliber you've come to expect from me

you know that Allison Krause song "When You Say Nothing At All"? You don't? I barely do either, but here's something I'd like you to vote on.

Which version of this works better?

"Try as I may I can never explain
How it feels when you don't say a thing"


"Try as I may I can never explain
how it feels when you don't say my name"

Of course, having written them both out like that without the music or any sort of context they're both lame.

I still have my opinion, however.

Sunday, April 23, 2006


I don't have to be at work until 10 am Monday. I'm going to write! and go for a walk around the lake! and take the tire back to the tire guy and say "Behold how it leaketh! Thy definition of "repaired" matcheth not with mine!" And have a healthy breakfast! And read! Maybe sew some curtains and do 800 loads of laundry! The sky's the limit!

P.S. to the sock rant

I'm not dieting - I'll never diet again - I just forgot to eat. Or it was never convenient.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

What Letting Go Looks Like

1) Say this to your ten year old: Yes, you and your best friend may go to a movie by yourselves.

2) Drop them off at the theater with their purses and their matching jackets and their excited grins, and drive away with a nonchalant wave.

3) Circle through the parking lot and park with a view of the theater door.

4) Read for two hours.

Now how hard was that?

Friday, April 21, 2006

Eensy Teensy Rant

I hate socks. I like the way they look on my feet, but I hate the way they feel.

Especially today. Guess I should have had breakfast.

Or lunch.

Or both.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Why I'm Not Sleeping At Night

(I realize the three of you have been waiting anxiously for a post for over a week - this won't be that big a thrill. Sorry.)

So last night as I was trying to sleep I had a half dream about backing my van down the driveway and a man suddenly standing up from where he's clearly been messing with my tires, holding a wrench. So obviously I spent the next hour lying awake wondering what that dream meant. And holding hands with a fast-asleep TechnoSpouse, just in case.

And then just as sleep was claiming me again, the word "terebinth" popped into my brain. I spent at least half an hour wondering why, and what the word actually meant, and telling myself that if I just got up and looked it up already I could go back to sleep.

Also at some point I started to worry that I was going to die in my sleep because I had sent the children to bed with Stern Language because they weren't going to bed as requested.

And every time TechnoGeek snored I looked at him and thought "Show off."

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


I know the title of this is "Anniversary", but I think it works well today, too.


Plan a love poem. Find paper and a pen.
Go back to the beginning, to easy
high school days, long talks in the lingering
light, a snowball fight through an open door.
Evenings in the library, forgetting
math and physics, so you can teach me all
that again, unaware you'll find your own
excuse to sit with me, at this table.

Collage two decades of movies, trips home,
broken bones, babies snoring on your chest,
mortgages, dented fenders, bicycles,
gravesides, hospital beds - all, all of it
tempered, enhanced, by your companionship.
You, hero of this small, satisfied life.


Happy Birthday, TechnoGeek.

(Here's what his sister and his daughter had to say)

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Well shoot

I decided to Act Like A Serious Writer today and actually send something somewhere besides the contest I enter every year, and I discovered the strangest thing:

All my poetry is CRAP.

It's so hard to be his sister

So here's how B fills his time:

Playing with friends, and if there are no friends to play with, then he wants to play on the computer or watch TV. Every now and then, TechnoSpouse and I realize that the children are spending too much time with electronics, and we Clamp Down - one hour of reading or playing outside for each hour of electronics. So B has played outside with everyone he can find, played outside by himself - pretty much exhausted the outdoors option.

He comes in and asks "Can I do anything electronic?" but the answer is "Not until tomorrow." He wanders up to his room and plays with Lincoln Logs for 10.8 seconds, puts them away and comes to find me.

"What can I do?" he asks

"Set the table", I suggest. Now A's response to this would be to leave the vicinity, and think up something to do, because she is aware that she is a child.

B sets the table. Then he puts all the ski gear in the entryway away, and hangs up all the jackets and mitts. He then sweeps the hall floor, and wet-Swiffers it. He is now walking purposefully around the house with a green garbage bag, emptying all the garbage cans. After that he plans to tidy the living room, apparently.

He's SIX.

And he REALLY gets on his sister's nerves sometimes. Wonder why?

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

if this is bragging, don't read it

I'm so torn. There's a fine line between Telling Of The Good Things That Delight Me, and Blowing My Own Horn.

so just go to this site and look for someone whose first name may or may not be Sue or Susan ...

Also look for my dear friends Jennifer (FIRST PRIZE! and she deserved it!) and Ellen and Jan and Violet and Judith (WOW Judith! lookit you rocket on up the charts!) and Angela and oh how I hope I haven't forgotten anyone! (just peeked - Jim and Darlene and James.) the actual poems will be showing up, at that link, in the next days and weeks.

and if that's bragging, just don't go look.