all I really wanted was a patch

For Rosey's snow boot.  It's got a place where the fabric is pulling open, and I dassen't put a stitch in it. So I told her I'd find some pretty little iron-on patches - snowflakes? A flower? Something, and then she could have her pink boots with the shiny pom-poms back.

We settled on Saturday being the day I would fix said boot. And, oh, by the way, Mama, my skate won't fasten anymore and we're going to the Oval.....aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Sound effects provided by me)


Saturday ended up being an odyssey, spread over many many many stores. Because while Rosey clearly needed skates, she didn't want skates that looked like boys skates, and the selection is limited this late in the season to obviously boys skates and figure skates. R is a skating beginner - giving her a toepick in front would severely hamper any progress she might make.

And we couldn't find any patches. DAMNIT.

Three stores later, we trooped back to the first, where I persuaded R that sequined stickers on the sides of these (black) (*sssh* boys) skates looked stylish and fun*, and then we swung out of town to a sewing specialty shop that had nothing like what we wanted** and I threw in the towel, bought the kid an ice-cream., and went home.

I'll find the patches I want another day. Now, I need a glass of wine.


*Seriously - they look great. She has little black skates with sparkly flowers on the plastic bit of the blade of her skates, and she loves them.


**The closest thing I could find was a pink camouflage regular patch, like you'd put on jeans or something pink and camouflage-y. 

It is so not Rosey. Especially not for her pink sparkly-pom-pomed girly boots. 

my job is done here

Last night, Cass got out of bed, came thumping downstairs and asked if he could stay up for awhile yet so he could read.

He was out of library books, so dug around in my bookcase and...

Cass now loves Calvin and Hobbes.

I'm calling this a parenting WIN.

total recall

This morning at the gas station (yes, the same one) a woman held the door open for me. We locked eyes and she smiled swiftly. 'Well hi Jessica, how've you been?'

I burbled something and nodded and she zoomed off . I went in search of coffee. It wasn't until I was putting the lid on my cup that I realized I had no idea who she was - and I'm not sure the morning huhs? had anything to do with it.

I think my brain might be full.

Well, you can't blame it, for Pete's sakes. It's full of trifles like ancient phone numbers, words to Duran Duran songs, what we ate for dinner last night, multiplication tables and immunization schedules. It remembers things - book titles, household projects, no pink with red, table manners, how to make piecrust, websites. I can recall at a moments notice the smell of fresh-cut grass in the spring, how the sunlight striped the walls and the canopy of my bed when I was seven, my grandmother's fingers touching my arm. The melty goodness of ice cream. It knows the name of every boy and girl in my daughters' Grade One class, and can follow the plotline of (God help me) Star Wars the Clone Wars, with a side of Discovery Science.  Really, my brain should have had a stress leave years ago.

I'm probably not giving it fair odds, either. Wandering around and talking pre-caffeine is never a good idea.

So, friendly lady, I'm sorry I forgot your name. But hey, the next time you want to sing any Eighties pop songs?

I'm your girl.

convenience store

This afternoon at lunch I slipped out and went to go buy a soda at one of the nearby gas stations. I'd won a free bottle of water there a few days ago, so I gathered that up too. Checking out should have been quick and easy...except the winning slip on the water wouldn't go through, and then my debit card wouldn't connect.

We tried three times.  At that point, the woman running the register was about ready to drop-kick the machine and I was casting anxious glances at my watch - I'd only meant to be a moment..

And then we noticed., both of us at the same time....

I was trying to pay for my Pepsi with my library card.

I am obviously not equipped for Monday and need to be more caffeinated than I originally thought.

anticipation...

January is usually when I get the blahs. It's not depression, not really, but I find the usual white-blankness of the scenery unnerving. Monotonous.

Of course, this year the snow has been sporadic and many of the birds that make themselves scarce during the coldest months are confused by the weather and huddle, dispiritedly. They make little croaks of disbelief at the temperatures when it's cold and sing their hearts out when it warms.  They make sunny days a joy to be outside.

This year, some really exciting things are happening at the beginning of February.
Halifax has the Canada Games Skating Oval (scroll about half-way down that page to see a picture of it) and there is a School Skate program. So the little school here  - well, everyone's going skating on some historic ice. Pretty cool, huh?

One of the local towns, Liverpool, is trying (and succeeding!) to catch the attention of the producers of the  CBC television show 'Village On A Diet'. The town that will be the subject of next season  will be decided at the end of January.

Sue is here!  I forsee a dinosaur trip in my future....

Oh, and I can't forget my night out with the girls. Icewine, here we come!

Yes, I missed De-Lurking Day. So tell me, what's going on with you??

snowed, and parenting FAIL

Well, it snowed.

You'd think this would be a moot point, up here in the wilds of Eastern Canada. You'd think we'd be inundated with the white stuff - but not this season, not so far. As a matter of fact, the latest storm that blew through last night skipped, hopped and jumped all over the province - the town thirty clicks away got snowed in (and hard) and the town the other way was socked in too - and we had enough to make a portly snowman and to skid down the sledding-hill a bit, and not much more.

But a great day for rosy-cheeks and cocoa, for snuggling on the couch and reading books while the coats and mitts steamed themselves slowly dry.



Cass was nonchalant. "Hey, Mom? What's texting on fire?"  
The punchline to a joke I don't know? Is that a commercial you saw?
(In my head, I was trying to picture the ad campaign. 'Our rates are so fast - it's like you're texting on fire! Poof! [Sirens sound.])
He rolled his eyes. (Hmph. So blase at nine.)
"Nooooo, Mom. It's a song. On my ipod."
Oh! A song! Well, I'm not sure what that could be. Bring it here and I'll tell you.

And, of course, while he was off getting his music player, I realized that I downloaded all the songs onto his ipod and wait....what? That song wasn't supposed to be on there!

It was, of course, King Of Leon's 'Sex On Fire'. Which is now known around these parts as Your Text Is on Fire.

He's pretty impressed that anyone could move their fingers that fast.

Moral of the story: Don't EVER think you can just put all your 'club' (read hoochie-dance mama) songs on a playlist to get them out of the main section. Well, actually, that part works, but when you take the fast route and download your main playlist onto your son's ipod? Download  = every.single.playlist you've ever made, all your audiobooks, your podcasts, everything.


Thank God I don't listen to porn.

holy shit, y'all

In the past two weeks, I have


started a new job (the jury is still out on that one - I'm getting in on the ground floor right before some very exciting things happen, but the waiting for the good stuff to happen is hard to do)

Read in church Christmas Eve, and managed to NOT giggle my way through the 'fruit of thy womb' part, which I was SURE was going to come out 'Fruit of the Loom', and how could I possibly not break down and weep with laughter while thinking of these guys hanging out at the manger?

Had a lovely Christmas

Tra-la-la'd my way innocently into the world of after-Christmas sales (why oh why do I never remember to stock up on laundry soap and toilet paper the week before Christmas??) and watched two grown women shove each other and pull hair over a 70% off Christmas tree. What great memories the winner of that item will have each year when she gazes at her tree! This is from the year I snatched old Mrs. Carverson bald. Feliz Navidad!

The accordion seems to be a hit-or-miss thing (I am brain-damaged, obviously) but they seem to be having a lot of fun with their new goodies, so that's good.

And tonight I watched the new year click over in Halifax and again in Times Square with my boy. (And shrimp and champagne, and some cookies for him) It was lovely.

I'm calling it - a new year, a new outlook. This is going to be an EXCELLENT year - how could it be anything but??