School’s Out!

Almost all my “last day of school” photos feature the kids wearing fleece-lined, windproof jackets and jeans because this is Calgary, and goddamn if Mother Nature is going to listen to anyone bitching about the “heat”. You don’t like the “heat”, motherfuckers? How about rain and gale-force winds then? HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES?

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Seriously, Mother Nature talks like that. She’s practically a sailor.

So thank goodness I took a photo of them yesterday, when it was sunny and beautiful and the camera didn’t almost get blown out of my hands by the wind:

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Yesterday was a bit of a rough day. It was an emotional roller coaster for everyone. Mark is sad because two of his close friends are going to a different school next year, and Jake is sad because his teacher is leaving the school. Both boys are excited for summer activities and they started their orange belt class yesterday, so it was an up/down/upside down oscillation yesterday. We’re sad! And angry! And excited! And happy! And nervous! And sad again. As for me, it’s “ladies’ holidays” so I was having a low energy, low spirits, high discomfort day, so dealing with all the emotion was about as fun as it sounds.

Then I was driving down our alley and I noticed something strange sticking out on the gravel. I slowed right down and then hit the brakes, gasping. It was a human arm. It’s not everyday you see a human arm so after I said omigod omigod to myself several times I looked again. Fortunately the arm was attached to a person, who was largely hidden by some garbage bags and a duffel bag. Also fortunately, the man was drunkenly passed out on the gravel, and not dead, as I kind of feared.

Today seems much less drama free, which is a happy thing. Our home telephone is now magically fixed, after hours and hours of the repairman switching cables and drilling things into the side of our house, and working on the pole, but not in a glittery way. At first I was wondering if we were going to be those people who get rid of their landlines, because the repairman and supervisor were completely puzzled. They’d “never seen anything like this before,” which was moderately unsettling, like our phone line was the Nancy Spungen of phone lines – out of control and no one is sure why. But now it’s fixed and I’m receiving calls from telemarketers and automated voices telling me that there may be an issue with my credit card; please enter your credit card number now. I’m sure glad we got that fixed!

Happy summer, everyone! Here’s to a summer of relaxation and fun, and lots of margaritas too.

Christmas came early!

You probably know this already, but I pride myself on my organizational skills. Meal planning? Yes. To-do lists, long and short term? Yes. School and activity schedules? Yes. At the beginning of the year I take the Important Dates To Note handout from the school and I write each and every Important Date in my calendar, in a different colour, so that I can See At A Glance all the Important Dates for the year. Last September I wrote Last Day – Early Dismissal! on Thursday, June 26. At the time I thought it seemed late; generally the last day of classes is on a Wednesday, not a Thursday.

This morning I was chatting with a friend at the playground after drop-off and I casually mentioned the slog that is the last week of school. “Oh well,” I said cheerily, “Only three and a half days left to go!”. She looked at me strangely. “You mean two and a half,” she said, “Last day is Wednesday.” LO AND BEHOLD. The date had been changed on the website and it’s true, it’s TRUE. Wednesday is the last day and now I suddenly feel like Christmas came early this year.

Which is not to say I wasn’t a little unsettled by the reception of this new information. I scrambled to rearrange an appointment I had made for Wednesday afternoon and I rushed home to make the chocolates for teacher’s gifts. It was on my to-do list today anyway, but I felt like I was doing something totally last minute instead of being smugly early. I do better when I’m smugly early, I guess.

What are you doing/ did you do for teacher’s gifts this year, if anything? I normally give gift cards for the mall, along with some nice chocolates, and the kids make cards. Normally I buy the chocolates but this year the boys thought I should send some of my dark chocolate truffles, so that was my morning: rolling, dusting, and packing up three dozen little chocolates. I tied an ingredients list to the mason jar in an attempt to be Pinterest-y, but unfortunately I am unable to tie a decent bow to save my life. Hopefully the chocolates make up for my lack of artistic ability.

Our home phone is on the fritz, which isn’t generally a big issue – who uses land lines anymore anyway? – but this morning the telephone repairman was scheduled to come and fix it. It’s one of those rare Calgary days where it’s actually warm, and so today I am wearing a skirt and tank top. Making truffles is a bit of a messy business, and so I grabbed an apron and set to work. After I finished I made a pasta salad for dinner, then wandered off to do some work. I forgot to take off the apron and so I was a little startled when I looked at myself in the mirror:

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I’m just going to say that I’m actually pretty glad the telephone repairman never showed up, even though no one can call me still and I’m worried I’m missing some important reminder that only comes via land line. Because seriously, nothing says “Adult Filmstar Awaiting Arrival of Telephone Repairman” like wandering around your house wearing an apron that covers your entire outfit. Plus that’s the apron my mother gave me for Christmas, that she bought in a lingerie store. Oh, nothing, just wearing my lingerie apron while anxiously awaiting you, Telephone Repairman.

It was a pretty lovely weekend all-round; my husband and I separately decided that the constantly-aphid-infested golden ninebark in the back yard had to go. I looked at it and looked at it and phoned my husband to say that we needed to get rid of it – the golden-green leaves always looked sickly instead of interesting, and it was always full of aphids – and he was simultaneously preparing to tell ME that we should dig it out. It was a very O Henry moment. Or maybe the opposite of O Henry, since we were both happy at the end, I don’t know. In any case, it’s gone and in its place are some beautiful purple and pink annuals. An unexpected trip to the garden centre for more flowers is always a happy thing, I think. Other than gardening, we also had some friends over for dinner AND went to a friend’s 40th birthday party, which is more plans than we usually have in a month of weekends.

This also happened:

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Orange belts! I’m so proud of them!

What do Count Almasy and Elaine Benes have in common?

You know how some pop-culture moments stay with you for many years after their relevance has dissipated? Nothing dates a person faster than saying something like “Where’s the beef?” or “How YOU doin’?” and yet, I find myself unable to stop. If I’m making lasagne, I constantly say “VEGETABLE LASAGNE” like Elaine Benes, if I’m making hummus I say “This hummus is amazing. God bless the chickpea.” Probably right now you’re thinking how awesome it must be to live with me. I’m a barrel of fun! Just ask my husband and kids.

*note: my husband and kids would not say I am a barrel of fun.*

On this vein, when something occurs more than a few days in a row, I am reminded of Count Almasy in the English Patient, when he leaves Katharine in the desert to go get help. “I have been walking…I have been WALKING…for THREE DAYS…I do not want to spell my name.” Today I looked out the window at the pouring rain and said to myself in a fake Hungarian accent, It has been raining…FOR THREE DAYS…I do not want to walk the dog.

It’s been pouring rain here; the house is completely dark and no matter how well I wipe Barkley’s feet there are paw prints all over the floor. There’s only one week left of school and as always during the last week of school, it feels like a lot of effort, just putting one foot in front of the other. Just keep going! One more week! On the upside, the hostas are looking great and the grass is really green! I had optimistically written “weeding!” on my list of things to do today, but it looks like that is going to be a tomorrow job. Hopefully.

The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow, and so today I’m going to focus on Things That Make Me Smile.

Search Terms For This Blog

Nothing cheers me up faster than seeing how people come to read this blog *waves at all of you*. Here are popular search terms for this blog from the past 30 days:

jaminals – well, I can see that. I did write a post featuring jaminals.

why is a man’s forearm sexy – I’m not sure where this came from.

naked woman gardening in house – ditto. I don’t garden naked in the house. I don’t even have plants in the house.

huge boners – um

play in soccer in the freezing point of rain with pneumonia – sadly, this was an actual topic of a post back in 2011 when Mark had pneumonia and still wanted to go to soccer practice.

fat whore – huh

I drink green smoothie my tongue swell – CALL THE DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY!

and my personal favourite:

I watch my neighbor’s boyfriend wear panties outside.

Godspeed, internet searcher. Godspeed.

This Video With Little Hamsters Eating Little Burritos

I dare you to watch this and not be instantly happy.

This Amazing Internet Commentary

My friend Annabel posted this about a rainbow cake recipe that inspired an apocalypse of commentary, and it is pretty much my favourite thing I’ve ever read. I laughed until I cried and had stomach pains. As an economist, I appreciate how Keynesian economic theory gets mentioned, along with some uncivil discourse on the etymology of the word “liberal”. As one commenter so aptly says, “Shit’s getting real up on the recipe comments.”

Ah, I can only dream of the day when one of my recipes inspires a fascist versus communist, helicopter versus free-range parent comment war. You just never know what will set people off. I’m a member of several vegan discussion boards and often one member will casually mention “honey” or “owning cats” and ninety comments later you wonder what just happened. Whoa nelly. I remember several years back when a friend casually mentioned Esperanto on her personal blog, saying it was a silly, made-up language. She was instantly inundated with comments from the Esperanto Society. There are people who will argue anything, and that includes, apparently, a rainbow cake with numbers in it. As one of the commenters said, “Lmaooooooooooo”.

The 2010 Olympic Mascots, Four Years Later

Approximately fifty-two months ago, something magical happened; that magical thing was the 2010 Olympics. The kids at the time were in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten, and they were extremely interested in the Olympics: the events, the location, and the mascots. Especially the mascots. At one of my myriad book fairs, there was a book about the mascots called “Miga, Quatchi, and Sumi: The Story of the Vancouver 2010 Mascots”, and since the purchase of that book it has been perused approximately one million times. But back in early 2010, the boys expressed interest in purchasing one of those mascots. A miserable afternoon trip to The Bay yielded absolutely no results save a few gigantic versions of Miga, but my husband looked online and bought a four-pack of the stuffed animals, which included Muk-Muk, the mascot sidekick. Those mascots went with us on our first plane trip to Palm Desert, and have gone with us on every single trip since then.

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Mascots enjoying the warm air of Palm Desert. So far from their homes of Whistler, Vancouver Island, and “The Mysterious Forests of the North.”

Then my husband actually went to Vancouver while the Olympics were on; he lived there in his long-ago youth and went to stay with some friends for a few days to take in the Olympic vibe. He found two kids’ t-shirts that were unavailable at home, that featured the mascots in all their glory. Mark put his on and basically wore it every week for the next forty-three months.

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He wore it while blowing up balloons.

 

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He wore it at the duck pond.

 

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He wore it while learning to scooter.

 

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He wore it while hanging out under a shady tree when it was 35 degrees.

 

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He wore it while laughing about the meat market.

Jake wore his too, sometimes, but without the same zeal or passion.

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Seaside Quatchi.

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Note that Mark is still wearing his.

 

But alas. All good things must eventually come to an end. For one thing, what was an oversized t-shirt for a kindergartener was now practically a crop top for a 10 year old, and I am not one of those mothers who will stand by while her sons wear a half-shirt. By god, if they want to wear mesh half-shirts and cutoff shorts, they can do it under their own roof. Plus, the shirt was really showing its age due to nearly four years of washings.

He still loved the shirt, as worn out and faded as it was, and I knew I would never donate it or give it away. I read somewhere about making a favourite shirt into a pillow, and so I asked my mom – who is pretty handy with the needle and thread – if she would do this.

Small digression: my children would never, ever ask me to do anything that required basic sewing skills. They know this is not an area in which I excel. In fact, I almost failed Grade Nine Home Ec because of the sewing component. I would sit next to my best friend, humming away at the sewing machine, making her outfit that she was actually planning to wear, while I ripped out stitches over and over until my “project” was cheesecloth-like in appearance and I had to borrow someone else’s different-coloured ribbed material to try to patch things back together. I cannot sew a button on clothing without disastrous results, and the one time I made a yarn-based craft it turned out like this:

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Those are supposed to be octopuses, or octopii? I don’t really know.

In any case, my mother agreed to this project, so on the weekend we took the beloved green shirt over to her house where she whipped it into a pillow in approximately three minutes. On the way home Jake mentioned how soft Mark’s new pillow was. How cool it was. How amazing it was and OMG JEALOUS. A quick text to my mother, who pretty much would do anything for her grandkids, and the wheels were in motion.

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Proud pillow owners.

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Action shot!

 

The idea did not originate with me, so thank you to whoever came up with this fun parenting idea of the day: turn a favourite shirt into a pillow. If only I had saved all my concert t-shirts from the eighties! I could have a whole bed full of Depeche Mode, Midnight Oil, Grapes of Wrath, and INXS t-shirt pillows! It would add a certain je ne sais pas to my home decor, that’s certain.

Friday the 13th and the Full Moon. Luckily no PMS.

Today was the school’s annual Stampede Breakfast; it’s a proud tradition, this end-of-school wrap-up, although technically there are two more weeks left of school and three weeks until the actual Stampede hits the city, when we can all feel free to embrace our inner cowboy spirit and don shirts emblazoned with wolves and sunsets. Nonetheless, the boys were insane with excitement about this very fun event, which was cancelled last year due to the flood. I was committed to help with the set up, so early this morning I went to say goodbye to my husband, who was working out downstairs. He took one look at me and burst into hysterical laughter.

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Despite living in Calgary for 37 years, this is the first “western” shirt I have ever purchased, complete with sparkly detailing on the back. Something about the shirt paired with the denim skirt, accessorized by my regular boots, set my husband into a gale of mirth. “You just don’t look very authentic,” he finally said. No shit, Sherlock. I’m not an actual cowgirl.

The past few weeks have been divine, weather-wise, lots of sunshine and warmth, with the exception of today, day of the Stampede Breakfast AND Sports Day, which was cold and raining. Maybe it’s a combination of Friday the 13th and a full moon? I don’t know. All I know is when I got home from the breakfast it was 9:45 and I kind of felt like just giving up and calling it a day. I managed to rally by eating tortilla chips and salsa for lunch and that influx of sodium was enough to power me through a couple of hours of work.

Earlier in the week I realized with a start that I STILL hadn’t bought any cards for Father’s Day, and that no matter what I did, my father-in-law’s card would be late. I went card shopping and was reminded of this post by Lynn. I would like to add to it, though. There is a serious need for “Happy Father’s Day Grandpa” cards from people who are not preschoolers or thoughtful, sensitive adults. There was no middle ground between “Happy Father’s Day To My Beloved Grandfather, Sending Love and Memories Across The Miles” and cards with cartoon animals and cheerful, faux-crayoned words. There were also a number of cards for “Pop”, “Pop-Pop” and even “Paw-Paw”. Yet, nothing that was appropriate for tween-aged children to send to their grandpa. There is a market here, people.

Speaking of markets for mailing things, today in the mail I had a letter addressed specifically to me from Canada Post. Important information inside! it proclaimed. Now, I had some issues with Canada Post this last winter, so it was with some nervous trepidation that I ripped open the letter. Were they going to tell me that my Mayday tree was too droopy when it rained and the mail carrier got hit in the face and I was no longer going to receive mail? Was I in some kind of trouble? Was my wet walk too slippery, with too many faded Mayday blossoms? No. It was simply an advertisement for Hold Mail Services in case I went on vacation. How much money went into this advertising campaign? It seems a bit like a make-work project to me, but on the other hand, I have used the Hold Mail Service in the past and it is pretty awesome. I’m torn.

I’m also torn between doing a nice, light yoga practice this afternoon and taking a nap, since I seem to be exhausted by the festivities. Maybe I can do both? And add a glass of wine onto that? It’s Friday and the sun is over the yardarm somewhere, right, Hannah?

Happy Friday everyone, and Happy Father’s Day to all you daddy-o’s out there. Don’t be a square!

Maybe Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll have enough TIME.

Did you know that Father’s Day is THIS WEEKEND? I know! First the May long weekend is “early”, now Father’s Day is on the 15th, and I feel like I’m in some weird time warp. Which means, of course, that my father-in-law’s card will be late – as usual – and that I’m scrambling to figure out what to get my own dad. I don’t know how things work in your house, but in mine, I’ve somehow become the default person for buying cards for my in-laws. If I don’t, then no cards will be bought, written in by the children, and sent. On the one hand I feel a bit resentful about this turn of events, but on the other, the thought of my father-in-law walking to get the mail and getting no card from the kids is just too sad.

Yesterday I went out to purchase a gift for my husband. We don’t usually go crazy with gifts on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. Typically, the kids make cards and I go shopping at the garden centre as my Mother’s Day gift, which somehow turns out to be MUCH more expensive than, say, a bouquet of flowers. Two minivan-loads of plants later, my Mother’s Day gift is fulfilled. But Father’s Day tends to be a bit trickier; the kids want to give a gift, but my husband has, literally, everything. How many subscriptions to Golf Digest and boxes of Pro-V1s does one man need?

But we had a big barbeque on the weekend, with my husband making ribs for the guys and a butternut squash and vegetables for me, and he announced that he would really, really like a big platter with which to carry ribs/ giant steaks/ other meat in to the house, rather than having to make several trips with our normal plates. A big platter! That shouldn’t be hard, I thought. I’ll go out and look, I thought. How difficult could this be, I thought, ridiculously in retrospect.

Sometimes we need a sign from the universe to show that the paths that we take are the right ones. In my case, I normally shop online, with only a few exceptions. I love online shopping; I can clearly see what items are in stock and what are not, generally you can get a coupon or sale code, and my purchases magically show up right at my door. Unfortunately, with Father’s Day coming up in a mere five days, I didn’t really have time to wait for shipping and I didn’t want to pay extra for expedited shipping. So I slicked on some lip gloss, slipped on my fancy non-dog-walking shoes, grabbed my purse and headed for The Bay.

What is it about The Bay? I will keep to myself my opinions on the Jessica Simpson line of clothing that included denim overall shorts, but I will not keep quiet about the disaster that is shopping at The Bay. Why is it so disorganized? Why is it so cluttered? Why is there never any stock, or staff to help? Why do they make it so difficult? I circled around the Housewares department several times, perking up at the barbeque accessories only to be disappointed again and again. I looked through each and every aisle, wondering why the electric razors and suitcases were right beside the kitchen linens, and why there was every kind of kitchen gadget imaginable but no platters. Why were there barbeque accessories but no outdoor dining accessories, save for bright green plastic plates and plastic cups with a floral motif? Was a simple platter so hard to find?

I gave up and went to Bed Bath and Beyond, the name of which store I can never say without silently repeating, a la Frank the Tank, “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll have enough TIME.” But Bed Bath and Beyond was worse. That store is like a sensory explosion; walking into it I find I can barely remember what I went in there for – was it this Jelly Belly Slushee maker? Or maybe this “Roll-a-Lotion Body Lotion Applicator”? How about a spiral vegetable cutter? That whole store is like an experiment in how quickly we as a species can make a landfill overflow.

Suffice it to say I did not find a platter, although I was directed to a section with cheap-looking floral plates and clear plastic platters, which already looked stained and scratched. I looked at my watch, realized that the afternoon was half over, went home, and found something online that will be delivered in 7-14 business days.

Better late than never, and sign from the universe taken to heart: next time, skip the store.

Can I Handle The Seasons Of My Life? Uh huh.

Although there are now less than three weeks left in the school year, today we had a PD day. At first I thought it would be nice to have a lazy day at home, but I casually mentioned “renewing our zoo passes” and the kids lost their minds. The zoo! The zoo! THE ZOOOOOOOOOO! Even though they were just at the zoo last week, it seemed that it would be the answer to all their dreams to have a zoo day.

How could I say no? I hadn’t been to the zoo myself since before the flood last year, so I spent some frustrating minutes registering my car for the “easy online parking” and off we went, armed with sandwiches and snacks. And what a great day it was! Honestly, I feel like I could make an entire growth chart based solely on my declining levels of anxiety at the big play park, or my diminishing levels of exhaustion post-zoo-trip. It used to be that the play park, with the structures netted so that children don’t fall to their deaths, was immensely stress-inducing, what with each child going in different directions and inevitably getting stuck somewhere in said netted structure that was set up so that no one larger than age 12 could access it and hence, I would have to calmly talk the stranded children down, amid the shrieking and excited hordes of children. IT’S OKAY, HONEY, JUST PUT YOUR FOOT THERE…YES…YOU CAN DO IT…IT’S OKAY…hey, where’s Jake? Now I just sat on a bench that was our designated meeting place and stared pleasantly into space while the boys climbed and slid and checked in with me. Lately I’ve been a bit Landslide-y about the fleeting nature of time, but today I watched a several women wrangle a tantruming toddler with a running-away preschooler, and that, along with the exhausted looking stroller brigade, made me cheerfully click my heels as I walked with the kids and their backpacks which held supplies for the entire day.

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Hooray for kids that carry your water bottle for you.

Seriously, this is such a fun age. The kids were interested in reading the signs that went with the exhibits, that detailed habitats and diet and where the species lay on the “endangered” spectrum. Grizzlies are on the “to watch” list.

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Mark finds grizzlies terrifying.

 

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Penguins in all their formal wear.

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Moar penguins plz

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Red haired penguins.

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Remember Jake’s sadness with the passing of Foggy the hippo? Well, Foggy’s grandson, now at the zoo, is the bomb. We watched the sleeping hippo open his eyes, wiggle his ears, yawn, and, ultimately, honk and Jake was so sure that it was all for his benefit. If you tell Jake that hippos don’t actually telepathically communicate with him, then I will cease to be your friend. Because look at this happy face:

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Jake, the hippo whisperer.

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School and activities mean that we have so few of these days together, the three of us. We used to spend all our days together, and now it’s just enough to make such outings feel so special. I don’t know how many summers I have left, spending time with the boys in this capacity. I wish it could last forever, but it can’t.