I wasn't kidding

Shortly after I took these photos, it got worse. And starting hailing.

Things I learned today ...

This morning it is raining outside like only Vancouver can: hard, with periods of harder just for fun. The roads are awash with it, at times as I drove the rain coming down harder than the drains can keep up with. I had the windshield wipers on as we drove; The Boy loves this.

Him: It looks like they are fighting!

(He loves fighting these days. Everything is a good guy or a bad guy. I have no idea what to do with this; I had no brothers, and built houses with lego. However, I am assured by most parenting books that this is normal for boys. So I let it go.)

Me: Does it!

Him: Yeah, they are fighting each other back and forth.

Me: Do they have names?

Him: Yes.

Me: Do you know them?

Him: Yes. The flat one (right) is Water, and the pointy one (left) is Kevi.

Duly noted.

**********

Also? We got our back yard packed away JUST IN TIME. Fall has officially arrived.

Today ...

Today I got to work and the entire place smelled of salt and vinegar chips.

Apparently in response to outrage over gardening policies that involved nasty chemicals, the organization has decided to try natural weed killer: horti-vinegar, whatever that is.

And I'm all for it -- both the natural process and the fact that the local lawns / gardens aren't full of poison. And heck, I even like salt and vinegar chips.

But after a while, the smell of the vinegar? Kind of nauseating.

In other three year old news

"This is Fudge Park."

Dad: "Uh, no, it's [name] Park."

"It was called Fudge Park, until the fairies came and they named it [name] Park."

Guess we can't exactly argue with that. ??

three and a half, you're a riot

Today in the car:

"Liam (daycare friend) told me today that I'm the yummiest thing in the whole world!"

(And all I can think of is: 15 years from now, that sentence will have a whole 'nother meaning.)

(Although come to think of it, I'm not sure what that means for three year olds, either.)

********

Later:

"AHHHHH! NO! NO SUNLIGHT ON ME!! AHHHHHH!!!"

This is a recent development. Also:

"I don't like sun OR rain. I only like night. When will it be night?!"

Apparently I have birthed a vampire. Or he's been transformed at daycare while I work. Come to think of it, there are places in that building which are kind of dark.

********

The Man's company bought all the employees iPhones, and for some very generous reason offered to buy them for spouses too. We have to pay the fees, and the phone belongs to the company, but it's a nice perk, especially considering that the fees we're now paying for one phone are less than we used to pay for two. And -- iPhone! What fun! Anyway -- within days of them coming home our child could manipulate that thing better than I could, flipping back and forth between games and then complaining that Daddy's had better games than mine. And yesterday? Yesterday he bought software. Which is apparently supposed to require a password, one which has both letters and numbers, but somehow he did it anyway. I am amazed. And a tiny bit put out; it's a game that I know I would never play. It's not educational, even. He downloaded some fight / sci-fi / space game.

*sniff* They grow up so fast!

The baby, she is home

And she is Beee-YOOOOO-tee-ful. She is clean, polished, shining, and running like a dream. If I get myself together (I have the world's crankiest preschooler today, someone has kidnapped my normal child with his good and bad moods, and replaced him with the anti-Christ.) I may have something to show tomorrow. And then maybe ... maybe ... I can go and find some batting and a backing and start the quilting. Woo-hoo!!

Warning: political rant ahead

I freaking LOVE this.

Because, you know, assault prevention tips are so often for the victim. Because she (or he) has really anything to do with it. And let's face it, it's been said over and over: the only way to stop assault is to prevent the attackers from doing it, not the victims from being victims.

Absolutely fantastic. Now if someone (i.e officials of the law) would just take it seriously.

Sewing machine

Coming tomorrow! Whee!

Sunday after

We celebrated the last weekend of summer with a barbeque and ribs and a couple friends last night, and I'm paying for it this morning with a kitchen that was horrendously messy. I took a single pass at it, and there are still dishes to be done. I'm taking a break.

Wish I had a sewing machine. Would be a better morning after than dishes.

Playdate again

This time, at our house, a small boy from daycare who The Boy plays well with -- his mother dropped him off two hours ago and the two of them are still going strong. I sense cracks starting, so I think two hours + will be about the limit, but it is a nice respite for us.

Plus -- the two of them dumped The Boy's entire cache of cars over the floor, and played with them, and then The Boy then went on to something else and the other child refused until the cars had been cleaned up. I love this kid. He can come over any weekend.

One week more

So I took the sewing machine to the repair guy this morning. He was very friendly and very helpful, and even tried to adjust the machine to use the original belt, but no go. And then he did a quick check over and pointed out a couple of other things that were wrong, and I just ended up asking how much a tune up would cost. When it wasn't that much more than the parts and labour would have costs from his original quote, I just thought ... meh. Might as well.

But that does mean that I won't be getting it back until next Saturday, because that's when I can go and pick it up.

::Sigh::

Still. It needed a good tune up, and it has been meticulously cared for (he even noted some features that were in good shape), and it's worth it to get it completely restored so that it continues to work well into the future.

And what's one more week?

Alas.

Perceptions: Challenged

S0 I recently watched the movie version of Mamma Mia. I'd seen the stage show some years ago and remember watching it with a mixture of amusement and incredulity -- would it get any more bizarre? Oh. Yes.

The movie version was more of the same, but with my nostalgic weakness for ABBA songs and my great enjoyment of the silly, I really enjoyed the romp. It was fun. And the scenes of Meryl Streep jumping on her bed, dancing in the streets to Dancing Queen were just ... fantastic.

It's changed my perception of her forever, which in this case is a good thing. I always thought she was an amazing woman and actor, good at what she did, but now I can see that she can also have some fun.

However, my perception of Colin Firth ... sigh. Let's just say that I've long harboured a soft spot for Mr. Darcy, and the vision of him gyrating in a bad seventies costume at the end ....

Yikes.

I think there will need to be a great deal of P&P watching to remove that image from my mind.

Also?

There should be a special place reserved in hell for people who pull up in the left hand lane at a stoplight, and only put their blinker on to turn left once the light turns green. You know, long after you've pulled in behind them and there's no room to get yourself back into the right lane.

Uh ... Whoops

I packed a granola bar in my kid's lunch. The ones I made yesterday. With almonds. You know, to the nut-free daycare.

Awesome.

Fortunately I did remember before lunch and got in touch and it never made it out of the ziploc baggie. But DAMN, this is going to be harder than just remembering not to pack peanut butter sandwiches.

Things I made today

These are "fudge balls". Actually figs, walnuts, and a bit of cocoa powder. Soft and chewy like fudge and oh so good for me. Delicious! That's why there are only four left. I halved the recipe just in case I didn't like them. I won't make that mistake again.

Home made hummus!

Tortilla soup. Chicken, corn, black beans, veggies, cilantro, topped with sour cream and more cilantro. Even my kid ate it.

For dessert: Pumpkin pie in a pumpkin. Hollow out the pumpkin, add butter, sugar, spices and nuts. Bake. Eat.

Lego fire station. I am still a mommy, after all.

Alas, not one photo of a quilt. :(

At the park

Three minutes after that last post the phone rang and the boys were at the park - could I come too? And not two minutes after I got there, The Man remembered that he had to go to work and hopped off and there I was, alone with a child at the park.

This is not exactly a problem, of course, but I am total homebody and would prefer to be in the comfort of my tiny abode at all times, and some day I will make a wonderful hermit and sit here crabbing about the state of things these days. But for now I do try and get out now and again.

So there we are, The Boy running about madly with a few other children, and there's one in particular that seems friendly and fun and they play for a while. She looks about three, about the same age, with long curly hair and bangs. After about twenty minutes of play, there does come a few skirmishes between the two, and the mother calls over from the sidelines a name that sounds like "Ash ... " something. Ash something. I can't distinguish.

I'm having a fine time, and the kids are too, but as the play picks up the two kids need some more intervention -- Ash-something chases a lot, and then grabs, and the chasing is appreciated but the grabbing is not. Eventually the mom comes over too, and we start chatting. "How old is he?" she asks me, and I reply, and then I ask, "How old is she?"

"He's a boy," she says.

Oh.

Well, easy mistake, right? The kid is dressed non-descriptly, has a name that could go either way, and has long curly hair and bangs. I apologize, of course. We chat some more, and it turns out that Ash-something is heading to one of the centres in the daycare complex The Boy goes to next week -- first time ever in care, the mom seems nervous. I mention that we've been there for a while, and had a great experience.

"Oh yeah," she says. "I went and visited and was really impressed with the feng shui of the place."

???

Now I realize this is really important to some people, but I really do think that up there on your list of priorities might be, oh, I don't know ... toys? Good people? Good facilities?

But you know ... whatever. To each his own.

We chat a little more, here and there, and I ask if she's ever cut Ash-something's hair. She points out the bangs, which I had noticed. "Because it was getting in his eyes." and then notes that she's heard that you shouldn't cut children's hair because it is psychologically damaging to them. Not until age six, she says.

And then hastily tells me that lots of people cut their kids hair, and I probably haven't harmed my child.

I smile politely and nod. "I don't think he's too terribly damaged," I reply.

* * * * * *

A short while later Ash-something is being prepared to go, and his mother picks up his sand toys, one of which is a large shovel with pictures of Disney princesses on it. She holds it up. "Is this why you thought he was a girl?" she asks.

I smile and kind of incline my head. Sure lady. That and the HAIR THAT'S NEARLY TO HIS BUTT.

I mean, The Man has long hair, one of my favourite uncles had long hair for years when I was a kid. I have no problem with it. But I'm sorry, when your kid is three, you have to expect that other people will think he is a girl when he has really long hair.

Just sayin'.

Also? DISNEY PRINCESS SHOVELS? I think we've GONE TOO FAR.

And for the quilt

Saturday. Saturday he's going to replace the belt and grease the motor and check it over and oh, am I ever looking forward to getting back to sewing without fear that the machine so lovingly and conscientiously saved by members of my family isn't going to fall apart or start smoking or otherwise implode.

Five minutes of quiet

Saturday was the pool and the tantrums and the tinkertoys.

Sunday was the friends and the market and the playground and the rain and a small boy cooped up inside. There were legos and duplos and playdoh.

Today there were video games and cooking and cleaning and this afternoon The Man will work and I will be alone with the preschooler to interact and play and make dinner and get ready for the week.

But right now, they are off at the park, they are off on an adventure, and I am back from my errand to the store and there's quiet in the house, and it is oh so blissful.

Long weekend

How unfair is it that it's a long weekend and it's supposed to rain the entire time?

This morning we got up and just hung around in our pajamas for many hours. I love mornings like that. Quiet, unhurried. We watched a few videos on National Geographic, and I did a few chores. The Man made some lovely corn pancakes (arepas!) with black bean topping and sour cream, scrumptious. I highly recommend them.

We then dragged our child to the pool. The pool at the nearby university, which has some great floating toys and isn't too crowded with kids, and is nice and spacious. In fact its only drawback is that it doesn't have family changerooms. But the kid needed a Great Deal of convincing. I think he's just scared of the water, and I sympathize ... I hated swimming as a kid. Hated water. Hated getting splashed or getting my head wet. But I do think it's a good skill to have, so we drag him out kicking and screaming (I wish I were exaggerating!). He has a fine time once he's there. But going is a huge issue.

And now here I am, waiting with bated breath for an email from someone who told me by email yesterday that he had a belt for my sewing machine, which I SO WANT. It took me a while to track one down in this city ... apparently sewing isn't real popular or something, or at least, servicing sewing machines, especially old ones, isn't that popular. But track down one I did, and now I just need the guy to email me and let me know where I can pick it up. Please, oh please, let it be soon.

Novel

From about the time I learned to read I wanted to be a writer. Somewhere along the line I became convinced I wouldn't be ... and yet here I am. Writer for money.

But the one thing that I learned in the intervening thirty years is that writing for money isn't that hard.

However, writing what you want for money is.

I write all day. I'm currently writing a document that will justify the construction of a new building. Yes, it's scintillating. I write a bunch of stuff on topics I never even considered before they hit my desk, and while much of it is pretty interesting, it's really only because I have a fairly loose definition of "interesting".

And while I would very much like to earn money writing what I want, writing literary fiction is a very, very hard way to make a living. I always figured if I did so, I would probably write genre fiction -- romance or fantasy novels. I like to read 'em. They sell. Ergo they make money, and you don't find yourself up until the wee hours of the morning scribbling in a journal to write, because you have to keep your day job.

Or maybe you do, but the possibility of that is less.

So I read this article with some interest. The idea that novels with a good plot that carry the reader along -- at this time, often confined to supermarket racks and I suppose not considered "good writing" -- are making a comeback.

And I could not be more thrilled. Not just because let's face it, I'm hardly a high brow reader myself. But because making a living from writing that I like doing? Might not be as impossible as I once thought.