I woke up this morning and saw this in my backyard: Then out the kitchen window, looking east: And from our front window: I know that there are naysayers out there, who hate the snow, who grumble and pout at the first sight of it, but I’m not one of them. I love the first…
They all seem so innocent. Those plexi-glassed bins, with their silver scoops. The aisle with its spices and herbs – the colourful cake sprinkles. The plastic bags with their attending labelling closures. The cute little golf pencils, to label the afore-mentioned closures. A little of this, a little of that… “Ooooooh…. plantain chips! I LOVE…
Friday night. Bedtime. Rissa wriggles spasmodically under her blankets. “I’ve got something in my pants!” Sigh. “What do you have in your pants?” “A sliver or something!” “A sliver? How can you have a sliver?” “I don’t know, maybe from the dance studio.” Stalling. She is stalling the bedtime process. “Just ignore it.” “Ignore it?!?…
I am posting this… and so usher in the beginning of the holiday season… Merry Christmas! (Who knew that Kmart had it in ’em?)
“Just rip it out!! Please,” I begged. “Oh, love, I can’t,” said David. “Yes, yes, you can! Just take a spoon, or your thumb, or a FREAKING NAIL FILE, and pop out my eye. Scramble it if you have to, but get it out!!! Any of those will hurt less than the invisible railroad spike…
Ggggggggggrowl… grumble… grumble… grumble… “Stupid yoga pants! Stupid bra! My boobs don’t belong in a bra yet!” grumble… grumble… grumble… Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. “Stupid stairs.” Trip. Slip. “Stupid cat toy!” grumble… grumble… grumble… “Stupid morning.” “Still sleepy, huh?” Rissa comes over, enveloping me in a purple terry cloth hug. grumble… grumble… grumble… “Not awake yet…”…
I fell off the wagon last week – again. I answered the siren call of caffeine and gluten. We’ve got one of those single serve Keurig coffee machines at the office and I’m always jealous because there are all these snazzy, olfactorily orgasmic caffeinated flavours, wafting their way through the office air. Flavours that people…
WARNING – THIS POST IS RATED R FOR LANGUAGE. Rissa saw her first R rated film when she was probably 10. Yep, we were those parents. The movie was Love Actually. You know the one… Richard Curtis’s quintessential feel-good Christmas film? Probably one of the sweetest holiday movies ever? The one where even the most…
BANG! Even on this windy, windy November’s day, the sound ricocheted off buildings. “What the hell was that?” David asked. I looked around wildly. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” My shoulder ached a bit. “Are you okay? Were you hit?” David gave me the once over, checking for blood. “I think maybe… I don’t…
Oh yeah, I’m on the cutting edge… On my way home yesterday, it became apparent that I could never be one of those kids who wears his pants half-way down his ass. As I was cutting through the Via Rail parking lot, I could feel the waistband of my tights begin to give. I’ve had…