This quote from Kurt Vonnegut got me thinking. Much has changed for me in the past year or so. I don’t live in the past reliving bittersweet memories the way I used to. Oh, I visit the past from time to time, but it has grown blurrier. Fuzzy. I’ve let go of the sharp and cutting crispness of those memories and let them fade as they should. I turned then to the future, to[...]
Archive for July, 2009
Okay, so the big flash of pink totally gives the answer away, but at least having tacked “Spoiler Alert” onto the title I can kinda sorta pretend I was being sensitive to whatever percentage of you might want to be surprised.
Yay!
I’m sure I’ll babble on about how it feels to know we’re having another girl some other time. For now though, I’m having a small pout because I don’t have any good reason to go shopping for baby clothes[...]
My life seems bound up in wishing lately. Wishing that the ultrasound tomorrow will yield the gender information we’re getting increasingly eager to find out. Wishing that the current heat wave would wave off somewhere and stop with its incapacitating effects already. Wishing to find the energy in the muddle of heat exhaustion to plan for our trip to Vancouver tomorrow. Wishing that Les Miserables will be as fabulous as our hopes and expectations are building[...]
Once upon a time ago I was on my way to a picnic. Instead of keenly anticipating a relaxing afternoon of food and fun, I was rehearsing conversations in my head. This is something I do often, being of a neurotic temperament and all, but the tendency crops up even more often when I’m nervous. And I was very nervous indeed.
You see, on the list of possible picnic attendees was a woman who, while generally a good[...]
Mood is a wobbly thing. An emotion dappled paintbrush that flicks by from moment to moment, painting us ever and always into new combinations of laughter, despair and confusion. Ever the paint grows thicker and we struggle in the depths of ourselves. Not everyone learns to swim.
As we grow we learn though. Learn that we can paint even as we are painted. Paint the lives of our loved one in shades of cheery yellow. [...]
Someone intimated in one of their comments that the hard road journey I mentioned in my last post must be a deeply personal one, as I didn’t identify it. They were quite supportive of that, which made me feel a bit silly. After all, most regular readers know that I have NO shame.
I’m not much for keeping secrets. This one was kept out of a desire to say something slightly more poetic than “I’m going to stop being such[...]
Life has become itchy all of a sudden. I feel out of place. Uncomfortable and awkward. I feel like a stranger in my own home, and all things favourite and familiar seem alien and aloof from me somehow. Strangest of all, it feels right to feel this way.
I think I know the source of the feeling. Change. Not change that has taken place but change that is yet to come. Soon to come.[...]
Neil (as he’s ironing his work shirts): So Emma, what do you want to be when you grow up? An eye doctor like Daddy?
Emma: No. I want to be a mommy.
Mommy: Why do you want to be a mommy?
Emma: Because mommies can wear wrinkled shirts and eye doctors can’t.
Neil and I burst out laughing at her logic. It was a nice life role affirming moment for me as well.
I hate ironing. Good thing I’ve got this[...]
I lost a friend recently. I’d like to say that’s something I’m not in the habit of doing but in all honesty, in this particular friendship, it’s something that tends to happen quite frequently. My friend is broken, you see. And she has been asking me to help fix her. And I’ve been trying. Oh how I’ve been trying. And oh how she hates that I’ve been trying. It only highlights the[...]
No, that is not an exaggeration. If a recipe can be misunderstood, I’ll misunderstand it. If a simple error can flub the whole thing, I’ll manage it. I have, in times past, attempted to make cookies with no flour in them, broiled a cake, cooked pasta to varying degrees of mush or chewiness, and have even accidentally served semi-raw foodstuffs to dinner guests. The list? Goes on.
On the plus side, all I have to do is share one or two[...]
