28 Friday Jun 2013
My FIL tends to put his own realistic spin on the usual congratulations for birthdays or anniversaries.
This year’s anniversary card was another gem, check it out:
We think that the original word was “all” but perhaps he thought this wish unrealistic or possibly even undesirable, since the bad times can be learned from?
Unsure.
Anyway, you can be this card will be treasured, because his personal touches are priceless.
09 Sunday Jun 2013
Posted in Life and Love, TwiBashing
I am rereading Twilight, possibly out of self-hatred but ostensibly because I want to make sure that my Zombie Anti-Twilight story fully opposes it in every respect.
It’s mind numbing; I am reading it in bed at night only… to help me fall asleep.
What’s bothering me the most this time around are Edward’s looks. Bella, who forgets to breathe and doesn’t notice when she has come inside out of the rain, seems able to interpret the most complex facial expressions.
Like in the second chapter, when Edward looks at her with “unmet expectation” on his face.
Tell, me, WHAT DOES THAT LOOK LIKE?
I keep twisting my face around trying to create this painfully specific expression, and I end up feeling like Joey Tribbiani doing his “I have a fish hook in my eyebrow and I like it” look.
And then, a couple chapters later, Edward looks at her incredulously, but his face is also “hard” and “defensive” at the same time.
I’ve been working on it. What do you think?
15 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Life and Love, Life's Little Moments, Perfect Husband
Perfect Husband and I are in bed and settling down to sleep. For me “settling down to sleep” means reading for an hour in dim light until I develop the ability to go unconscious. For Perfect Husband, it means *snore snore snore snore*.
Perfect Husband: “I have a vital task for you.”
Me: “What?”
Perfect Husband: “Before you go to sleep, turn the dryer on to timed dry so it doesn’t run all night. Do this, and I will reward you with riches beyond your wildest dreams.”
Me: “And if if I don’t?”
Perfect Husband: “I will lick the inside of your nose.”
Me: “…I’ll remember.”
01 Saturday Sep 2012
Tags
Me: “Owl, I have to use the potty. Do you want to come upstairs with me, or stay here and play with your cars?”
Owl: “Play with cars!”
Me: “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute”.
Just as I flush the toilet, I hear an outburst of wailing from downstairs. I rush down expecting to find him hurt. He is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, still wailing miserably.
Me: “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Owl: “No…”
Me: “What happened?”
Owl: “THIS happened!”
He gestures dramatically to his pyjamas, and as I approach I see that an epic sneeze has sent a long string of snot across his face and all down his pyjamas, right down to his navel.
I got him a Kleenex and peace was restored.
I wonder what it’s like to be so helpless you can’t even reach the Kleenex when you need it.
24 Friday Aug 2012
Parents like to think their kids are smart.
Then we have moments like this, which bring it all crashing down:
Owl *pointing at self*: “BABY!”
Me: “Yes, right now you’re a baby, but in a couple of weeks you’re going to be a little…”
Owl: “….BOY!”
Me: “That’s right! Because you’re going to be…”
*I hold out two fingers and smile knowingly at him*
Owl: “…APPLE!”
09 Thursday Jun 2011
It started out so normally.
There we were, in Tim Hortons, which could have been any Tim Hortons in Canada. But it wasn’t any Tim Hortons. No, we were in a NOVA SCOTIA SMALL TOWN Tim Hortons.
So I’m munching on my apple fritter and Babby is chewing on a piece of bread from my BLT, and he starts making eyes at the old lady sitting behind us, offering her his gummy bread.
Babby is a massive flirt with the ladies and it is his newest trick to entice them over to him by removing food from his mouth and holding it out to them with an alluring smile. They always laugh, and smile back at him, and politely decline the slimy lure, and he returns it to his mouth with a resigned expression.
This lady was no different from the others. I exchanged a smile with her as she gathered up the detritus from her meal and walked towards the garbage can, passing us on the way. She asked the usual questions (“how old is he?” “does he have any teeth yet?” “Is he a good sleeper?”) and I gave the usual answers (“nine months” “yes, two on the bottom,” and “oh hell, no”).
“Wall, he’s a reel sweetie-poi,” she said in a thick Maritime accent. I thanked her.
“Oi have to get to the hospital naow,” she said conversationally as she moved towards the garbage. “Moi nointey two year oald husband broke his hip.”
“Oh, no!” I said politely, “I hope he gets better soon.”
“Oh moi, yesh,” she said, “But Oi’m jest determined to get ‘im hoam. Oi sez to the docter, Oi sez, ‘jest yoo let me get ‘im hoam and Oi’ll be the best pill yoo ever had!”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Wall, Oi’m going to go an see him naow, and hopefully Oi’ll be bringin’ him hoam!” she said again.
“I hope you do.”
“Oi WILL bring him hoam! Oi’m determined!”
She came closer and said confidingly, “Y’see, the docter was concerned, becuz he wuz on some heart medicayshuns. But I tole ‘im, I sez, “those wuzn’t foar his HEART, they wuz becuz he gets angshus. Cuz of hiz job that he had long ago, roight? He gets roight angshus an’ his heart starts goin’ that fast, but it ain’t hiz heart, it’s the anxiety, roight? Becuz of hiz job…”
She set her plate and garbage down on my table and began to tell me her husband’s entire medical history in detail.
Her green eyes held mine as I sat and tried to listen, realizing she needed to tell someone, and for some reason, I was that someone.
Like a wedding guest in a Coleridge poem, I was destined to hear the entire tale.
And so the minutes ticked by as I was held hostage. It was difficult to maintain strict attention when I had a sandwich waiting to be eaten, in-laws expecting me at home, and a fussy Babby on my knee, but I did catch bits of the story.
“…and it wuz a pink pill,roight, like a salmon coloured pill, and it’s to slow daown the heart, only he had it cuz he wuz a foir-man fer so menny years, roight? And he would get roight tense, and he couldn’t breathe roight, and his heart would jest race, loik a panic attack, roight?”
“…So after the sergery the docter looks at his chart, and he seez that he wuz on this pill, and he sez ‘Oi didn’t know yer husband had a heart condishun’, only Oi sez ‘it wasn’t FOAR his heart…'”
“…so wen he woak up he didn’t know where he wuz, roight? He wuz scared. He thought maybe he wuz in a hospital after a foir, cuz he was a foir man for so menny years, so he panicked, roight? And he troid to cloimb right out of his bed, and he wuz jest owt a surgery, roight?”
“… an the docter, he sez he wuz lookin’ all arownd, and Oi sez, ‘yeah, he wuz lookin’ for me, see?”
“…So then Oi come in, and he seez me, and his arms go owt loik this, woid, loik a little boy holdin’ owt his arms to his mama…”
“…and they asked him if he knew where he wuz, and he sez ‘camping!” cuz we wuz supposed to go, roight, but then he broak his hip, and the RV new and everythin’…”
“…but he ain’t the same, with them new medicashuns hez on, he ain’t roight… Oi keep tellin’ the docter, ‘you let me bring ‘im hoam, and Oi’ll be the best pill yoo ever give ‘im!”
“I hope they send him home with you today,” I said, nodding. Finally, FINALLY, she gathered up her stuff again and put it in the trash. Then she told me,
“Oi’m going to get wun of them ramps bilt on the house, cuz he’ll have trubble getting up them steps fer a whoile. Of coarse, he’ll be a big baby when Oi bring ‘im hoam. Men always are,” she said with a twinkle.
“But Oi’ll get ‘im fixed up. We’ll go on that campin’ trip later this summer, Oi think!”
“I’m sure you will, and I hope he gets well soon,” I said, trying to break eye contact politely. She started to head toward the door.
“Don’t yoo be feedin’ that baby lettis,” she called from the doorway, pointing at Babby who was happily gumming some of my BLT, “Moi sister in law she give ‘er baby a piece a apple, an she near ’bout choked on a liddle bit of apple skin!”
…
Oh, Nova Scotia. I did miss you.
31 Tuesday May 2011
Posted in Life's Little Moments, My Blag is on the Interwebs
Courtesy of Dana over at Reasoning With Vampires:
Knock knock
Who’s there?
To.
To Who?
To WHOM.
