churlish

There is a blogging conference in Toronto next month and I'm not going.
(stomps her feet)

And I haaaaaaaate it.

I had my vacation this summer, took all the time off from work I think I can get away with, especially now (not my stories to tell but things are happening at work)  and I can't really afford it anyway and the kids birthdays are coming up and snuffle snuffle whine whinge

but I wanna.
(stomps her feet)

Y'know, I really thought I'd be farther along than this. I have a good life, a great life, in most respects, but I'm espying forty over the horizon and not being able to do anything spontaneous? Just for me?

sucks. Big fat sweaty donkey balls sucks.

But just so you know? Blissdom Canada '10 is going to rock.

And I'll see you there next year.

Promise.

decade

Holy crap. Have we really been married that long?

I knew I should have faked a lobotomy or something. And you should have run.

Wanna go for another round? I mean, since I kinda like you and all.....

found

I always wonder about the things I see. Sometimes I'm even lucky enough to have my camera with me when I see something that strikes me as wistful, or beautiful, or strange, or worth remembering. Sometimes (and I'm thinking about that abandoned yellow house that I pass every day going to and fro from work that sits in that lovely shaggy field) I have to remember and go back, and often the light has changed or the story isn't the same, and the urge? muse? flees.



Without whimsy, without cartoon eyes and ears and fairies, I believe:

That a tree, chopped down and hurled in chunks on the forest floor, senses the pieces of itself near, and it is comforted. When the splitter roars, the wood screams silently, gaping, choked, horrified cries, and then quiets when stacked, lulled by the proximity of itself, even in pieces.

and then there were two

 Goodbye, Chumba.

We had to put down one of our cats the day before yesterday, and the house feels strange and well, stupid without him.
We were resigned to it - he's been going downhill for some time - but the stark silence where there was once a rumble purr will take some getting used to.

The other cats are unsettled and looking for him. Kate yowl and stares out the window, and won't be pacified with extra ear-rubs and attention. Lucy is digging her way through every closet in the house, keeping up a mumbled conversation, wondering where on earth her friend has gone.

The hardest part about being a pet-owner is knowing that you have to let them go. They depend on me for food and water and to help them feel better - even when the best thing you can do for them is to send them into that good night.

I knew that. I just didn't expect it to be so soon.


B and I are agreed that soon, we'll think about another cat. Maybe even a kitten this time. Just as soon as we can stop reaching up in the middle of the night to that place on my pillowcase where our ginger-furred kitty slept. But thirteen year old habits are hard to break.



*Even though this came out sad and raw (and I suppose in some ways we are) we're not all huddled in the fetal position, crying puddles. Actually, the kids and I are off to the farm market, the library and the grocery. Maybe we'll go walking in the park too. Pictures later!*

hodge-podge

alternate title: Things my post folder has had in it the last week

• I've been having a hard time finding stories to listen to lately. Water For Elephants, while a great book, does NOT come off well in audio, and the otherwise interesting-and -worth listening to story about the fifteen-year-old Indian prostitute? Not so great for when the kids are in the car.

• It's September, the kids are back to school, my rounds of much-loved committee meetings and volunteer work have begun, and I'm finally getting into a groove at work.

• B built the first fire tonight, as it's been a wee bit damp and rainy, and now I'm sitting here trying to look grateful and not actively sweat all over him while he chats on about the bread he made today and we talk about everything and nothing at all.

• I saw my first autumnal tree today. And while it was gorgeous and still-new and exciting enough so that I smiled at the sight, I'm just a wee bit horrified that summer slipped away so fast. It seems like I should have a tighter grip on the changing seasons by now - so much comes with age and maturity - why not that power?

around the corner....

damn, I love living near the water.

the war on crunchy green stuff

My two wander into the kitchen at least three times while I'm cooking, asking for a taste or offering to stir or mix or (god protect us) chop something. And they chat with me about their days, and things will be going swimmingly until a suddenly odd silence falls and I wince in anticipation of the dreaded question ka-thudding into my poor, tired-of-this-battle heart.

"Are there onions in that?"

Yes, I'll say irritably, yes, there are. But I'm cutting them up fine, see? They'll melt into supper. You'll hardly notice them.

"Huh", will come the unbelieving answer, with a definite tone of don't think you're going to hide those from me, and then I'll be watched as I massacre the onions into tiny bits of mush. Then the second question - there's always a second question! - will follow, and I'll grind my teeth silently while they peer into the pot and intone:

"What other vegetables are in supper?"

I have to stop and admire their syntax. While the general air of disdain gets the message across, there is no implied promise the vegetables will be eaten - no 'What else are we eating?' that I can hold over their heads, however clumsily.

Lately, the only vegetable not scorned is carrots. Raw carrots. And dip. And I'm thankful, but limited as to how many times I can serve baby carrots and dip and legitimately call it a healthy or yummy meal.

My children are fabulous little creatures. They even put their plates in the sink.

However, I've come to the conclusion that the gesture is less from my efforts to teach them manners, and more to hide the evidence of  the careful picked-out offending veggies.

They can't get scurvy and die if I feed them enough apples, right??

the end of summer

And it's suddenly the LAST day of summer vacation for my two, and oh! what a'griping and a'groanin' did I hear this morning when I sang up the stairs that they had to get ready to go to the babysitters!

Geez. You'd think I was pulling them from sleep, or something.

(Whoops.)

Today is exciting, because after the work day is done, they get to go and have their hair done. And there will be the usual new backpack and sneaker buying frenzy before school begins tomorrow.

Adding to the excitement is the possibility of a hurricane making a wash of Nova S this weekend. Suppose I'd better scoop up some basics, too, in case we're without power for a few days.

The last few days have been unseasonably hot. We put our pool back up (we'd taken it down before we left for vacation) and due to a couple of leaks it sits lumpishly half-filled, waiting for more water.

R didn't care. She splashed and crashed and tossed herself around. I daresay she had more fun by herself with it last night, even as a glorified wading pool, then she would have had sharing it with others.

I had fun watching her, too. My, the summer went fast!