Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
At the lake with Auntie Jehnny
Two weekends ago we had an little retreat with Auntie Jehnny and Mike at Tremblant. So relaxing!
Vist with Nana
We had a wonderful visit with Nana last weekend! Willow and Nana enjoyed hanging out in the garden and reading books together. Willow learned some french and shared her love of all things pink and princessy.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Thanks!
I have the best friends and family in the whole world. I know yer jealous, but that's just the way it is.
Thanks to Parise for the clean laundry, the peaceful week to rest and the listening ear. Thanks to Ray introducing Willow to Calvin and Hobbes.
Thanks to Mom and Ter for the week of outing and adventures - you've taken the kids everywhere I don't have time to, and mom, all my friends think yer buff!
Thanks to Sarah for being up early in the morning, having a kid and being awesome. Thanks for the rides , the food and the girls nights
Thanks to Jehn for all of your help,the groceries, your energy and your advice.
Thanks to Emily for the bike, the ideas, and for loving my kids almost as much as I do.
Thanks to Anne for making Tyren a teenage wanderer and for being a hella awesome house guest - even if you don't sleep!
Thanks to my kids for giving me purpose, making me smile and helping me appreciate silence.
for the record - Thanks!
Thanks to Parise for the clean laundry, the peaceful week to rest and the listening ear. Thanks to Ray introducing Willow to Calvin and Hobbes.
Thanks to Mom and Ter for the week of outing and adventures - you've taken the kids everywhere I don't have time to, and mom, all my friends think yer buff!
Thanks to Sarah for being up early in the morning, having a kid and being awesome. Thanks for the rides , the food and the girls nights
Thanks to Jehn for all of your help,the groceries, your energy and your advice.
Thanks to Emily for the bike, the ideas, and for loving my kids almost as much as I do.
Thanks to Anne for making Tyren a teenage wanderer and for being a hella awesome house guest - even if you don't sleep!
Thanks to my kids for giving me purpose, making me smile and helping me appreciate silence.
for the record - Thanks!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
For Duckie
For you Duckie, some pictures of the our epic water fight, Hermione my favorite ten year old and of course, Dark Mirror. He did take part in the water fight but we only have him on video. The royal family was here too, and during the water fight of course, there was a peace nik in our tree!
Let the summer fun begin ..
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Father's Day
I'll let Wes story to his dad shine tonight because it's awesome, and he's the father. I 'm just peeved about something I would like to mention. On facebook there are a couple of comments about " Happy Father's day to all the good dad's out there" Or " to all the involved dad's out there" and I even 'liked" these because I know the women who wrote them and I get the get their point - there are some un involved dads out in the world my friends are dealing with some real jerks. I get it. But I didn't see this anywhere on Mother's day.
I know a lot of really great involved dads and I know some sketchy moms. But NO where on Mother's day did I see anyone qualify " Happy Mother's day" with " to all the involved mothers out there!!!".
I know I'm on the dad train right now, because I'm short one dad. Really though, can we just give dads in general enough credit not to have to qualify our appreciation of them? Mom's getting "happy birthing day " on thier kids birthdays, happy Mothers day to ALL the mothers out there. Dad's get " It's great that he's actual an involved dad!!"
I'm just saying.
Happy father's day to all the dad's out there. Especially the ones I love.
( SO I qualified it. It's my blog)
I know a lot of really great involved dads and I know some sketchy moms. But NO where on Mother's day did I see anyone qualify " Happy Mother's day" with " to all the involved mothers out there!!!".
I know I'm on the dad train right now, because I'm short one dad. Really though, can we just give dads in general enough credit not to have to qualify our appreciation of them? Mom's getting "happy birthing day " on thier kids birthdays, happy Mothers day to ALL the mothers out there. Dad's get " It's great that he's actual an involved dad!!"
I'm just saying.
Happy father's day to all the dad's out there. Especially the ones I love.
( SO I qualified it. It's my blog)
Top 3 Things I Learned From my Father ( Wes)
Most of us start out in life and our parents are just there, like the weather. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Maybe we fight it, during those awkward growing up years, but we’re like our parents, in more than a few ways. Mostly our parents are there as a weird mirror of life when they grew up. A way to see the end product of what the world wanted men and women to be like in those times. Face it, we’re all here because we are prisoners of our DNA and its imperative to continue into the next generation nomatter what. The times change, but the blocks of what we, and our parents, were made up of do not. We are just them filtered through different times. What I hope to avoid from now forward is taking that presence for granted. Like it will be there forever.
As those who know me are probably aware our family grew short of a father this year’s father’s day. So I’d like to say my piece on fathers while I may. The value of letting your dad know how much you appreciate him is, it seems, a limited time offer, for all of us.
I grew up the youngest of three kids and I have little doubt that owing to my personal brain wiring and changing times my father had little idea what to make of me. I grew up so far outside of his frame of reference he must have struggled harder with every passing birthday to connect with what was mostly an ungrateful kid who had no idea how to deal with what has, thankfully now, become mostly comedic episodes of rage and frustration from his dad. For much of my childhood my father worked like a beaver at jobs he mostly hated to provide for his family and, never a man to keep things inside, the frustration uncorked from time to time. That is, all the time. I remember one particularly vengeful confrontation between my father and the vacuum cleaner that taught me a few choicer epithets when I was about six. I ran for cover. The next time I saw the vacuum cleaner it was sporting a series of duct-tape bandages. But let’s look at the big picture here: my father was doing housework, at a time when men didn’t do that shit.
Which brings me to the first thing I learned from my father. He is a man who always put his kids first and all he asked in return was a little cooperation. Heaven help the child, or vacuum, that didn’t catch on fast enough. My siblings and I would come home from school for lunch each day with a mixed dread at what kind of strange concoction of Campbell's canned soup we would get. Ox-tail mixed with creamy tomato? Creamy mushroom mixed with vegetable? You could never be sure. And added to this I had a sensitive palate and lived in terror of that day we would run out of bologna and I would get some sort of salami lunchmeat that would make me gag. To avoid the inevitable outbust over a perceived slight to his skills as a chef I spent more than one lunch chipmunking my cheeks with sandwich, left for school right away, and spit masticated sandwich into the nearest storm drain. It wasn’t until years later when I was a father myself that I realized my dad had taken his own lunch hour to drive home and make a hot meal for us rotten ingrates. Now when I look on those lunches I picture how he took his responsibility for us seriously. Personally. Not just a ‘I work all day to put food on your table!' kindof parenting. He put the food on the table too.
It wasn’t too many years after this my father quit his soul-crushing job and started a new career as an apprentice putting together custom-made wooden furniture and cabinets. The first I heard about it was coming home from school and seeing my dad was already home and my parents told me he had quit his job. I was just a kid but I knew not having a job was a pretty bad thing. But my dad busted his ass even harder at his new job working for crazed, eight-fingered germans until he could start his own business and finally become the thing he really wanted: his own boss. They say people who work in jobs where they can physically hold the things they worked on at the end of the day have less stress and a better quality of life. Running his own business maybe wasn’t a great stress reliever but he was certainly a happier man making cabinets than he had been as an assistant manager in a chain store providing liquor to the public. Although the stories he told us about the underside of society that walked into his store looking for beer every night at dinner were embellished with the humour my dad adds to everything like ketchup to a meal, there was an underlying loathing of the world in them. That slowly receded as years went by until by the time I was a teenager he actually took anger management courses and the change became easily apparent.
So the second thing I learned was that anything worth doing in life meant hard work. That you didn’t shy away from doing the right thing because it was tough. That self-improvement was a reward for those you loved most, not for yourself. Years later, when I had to make some of the hardest decisions in my life I had my father’s example to fall back on. And while I struggled building the relationship I had with my own children while we were apart and quitting a job I loathed for 12 years but kept because I thought I needed the security, I was able to come out the other side. Come out as what I hope is a better man.
Like I’ve said, the DNA humans are made out of doesn’t change that much while the world around us changes pretty much daily in pretty terrible ways, or at least it has since the industrial revolution, anyway. For most of the 20th century young people have worked hard to prove that they are unlike the generation before them. That they talk like parents don’t even speak the same language as them. Today, standing astride the 21st century, we may have entered a time when that is literally true. My ongoing efforts with my teenager to continue to keep up with the L33T speak he uses in increasingly cryptic internet communications (“Email? Ugh. Might as well chisel a letter into a cave wall! Don’t you IM?”) prove this out. But look at the men from my father’s generation. His parents won the Second World War, for Ah Pook’s sweet sake. Can you imagine being born at a time when the supremacy of the white male from the western world crested its high-water mark in history? When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer. In other words it was inevitably downhill from there.
My dad grew up into a young man as a folky, and while I could go on about having an appreciation for a while on how his music appreciation has vastly enriched my life, what I value most about my dad is that he has struggled to understand the world around him. Unable to stand the small-town mentality of northern Ontario he and my mother moved their family south to the big city and tried to instill in us kids a value for not just culture, but for what was right. Betrayed at every turn by changing demographic of population that values his place less and less since the heady days white guys brought down the Nazis, my dad has been noted by many as a paragon for stubbornness. This is the man who bought his first VCR when I was about eleven, and ever since the day I left home when I was nineteen there has been a little strip of paper taped over the flashing 12:00 because he can’t make himself learn how to change the clock on its face. A man who stopped voting years ago when he realized none of the politically parties available to him would ever make the clock go back to the world he grew up in. All this may be true but I think what I admire most about my dad is his ability to never cease being surprised by the world. Passion is one of those words you don’t hear applied too often anymore, with a straight face, but I think my father has never stopped being angered by injustice or become jaded to cruelty and suffering. That is a remarkable quality as we round the clock in the year 2010. Most people try to cultivate a ‘been-there-done-that’ coolness that ages bitterly but as my father ages I find more and more commonality with him through books and his writing and what is obviously still a mind eager to grow.
For most of us growing up is a contest of wills against our parents. We push hard to prove we’re different from them and its easy to pick apart their parenting. The truth is nomatter how bad they really were, with few exceptions they could have done a lot worse. We’re none of us perfect and while our parents tend to point out our shortcomings its really nothing compared to the scrutiny we apply to them. But the best part of us will always be from our parents, just focused through a lens of our experiences. And for every child who shudders at the thought that they may end up repeating the same mistakes of their parents, there is a father out there who is proud of how much his children have grown up beyond himself. I know that’s how I look at my kids every day, and I hope its how my dad thinks of me.
As those who know me are probably aware our family grew short of a father this year’s father’s day. So I’d like to say my piece on fathers while I may. The value of letting your dad know how much you appreciate him is, it seems, a limited time offer, for all of us.
I grew up the youngest of three kids and I have little doubt that owing to my personal brain wiring and changing times my father had little idea what to make of me. I grew up so far outside of his frame of reference he must have struggled harder with every passing birthday to connect with what was mostly an ungrateful kid who had no idea how to deal with what has, thankfully now, become mostly comedic episodes of rage and frustration from his dad. For much of my childhood my father worked like a beaver at jobs he mostly hated to provide for his family and, never a man to keep things inside, the frustration uncorked from time to time. That is, all the time. I remember one particularly vengeful confrontation between my father and the vacuum cleaner that taught me a few choicer epithets when I was about six. I ran for cover. The next time I saw the vacuum cleaner it was sporting a series of duct-tape bandages. But let’s look at the big picture here: my father was doing housework, at a time when men didn’t do that shit.
Which brings me to the first thing I learned from my father. He is a man who always put his kids first and all he asked in return was a little cooperation. Heaven help the child, or vacuum, that didn’t catch on fast enough. My siblings and I would come home from school for lunch each day with a mixed dread at what kind of strange concoction of Campbell's canned soup we would get. Ox-tail mixed with creamy tomato? Creamy mushroom mixed with vegetable? You could never be sure. And added to this I had a sensitive palate and lived in terror of that day we would run out of bologna and I would get some sort of salami lunchmeat that would make me gag. To avoid the inevitable outbust over a perceived slight to his skills as a chef I spent more than one lunch chipmunking my cheeks with sandwich, left for school right away, and spit masticated sandwich into the nearest storm drain. It wasn’t until years later when I was a father myself that I realized my dad had taken his own lunch hour to drive home and make a hot meal for us rotten ingrates. Now when I look on those lunches I picture how he took his responsibility for us seriously. Personally. Not just a ‘I work all day to put food on your table!' kindof parenting. He put the food on the table too.
It wasn’t too many years after this my father quit his soul-crushing job and started a new career as an apprentice putting together custom-made wooden furniture and cabinets. The first I heard about it was coming home from school and seeing my dad was already home and my parents told me he had quit his job. I was just a kid but I knew not having a job was a pretty bad thing. But my dad busted his ass even harder at his new job working for crazed, eight-fingered germans until he could start his own business and finally become the thing he really wanted: his own boss. They say people who work in jobs where they can physically hold the things they worked on at the end of the day have less stress and a better quality of life. Running his own business maybe wasn’t a great stress reliever but he was certainly a happier man making cabinets than he had been as an assistant manager in a chain store providing liquor to the public. Although the stories he told us about the underside of society that walked into his store looking for beer every night at dinner were embellished with the humour my dad adds to everything like ketchup to a meal, there was an underlying loathing of the world in them. That slowly receded as years went by until by the time I was a teenager he actually took anger management courses and the change became easily apparent.
So the second thing I learned was that anything worth doing in life meant hard work. That you didn’t shy away from doing the right thing because it was tough. That self-improvement was a reward for those you loved most, not for yourself. Years later, when I had to make some of the hardest decisions in my life I had my father’s example to fall back on. And while I struggled building the relationship I had with my own children while we were apart and quitting a job I loathed for 12 years but kept because I thought I needed the security, I was able to come out the other side. Come out as what I hope is a better man.
Like I’ve said, the DNA humans are made out of doesn’t change that much while the world around us changes pretty much daily in pretty terrible ways, or at least it has since the industrial revolution, anyway. For most of the 20th century young people have worked hard to prove that they are unlike the generation before them. That they talk like parents don’t even speak the same language as them. Today, standing astride the 21st century, we may have entered a time when that is literally true. My ongoing efforts with my teenager to continue to keep up with the L33T speak he uses in increasingly cryptic internet communications (“Email? Ugh. Might as well chisel a letter into a cave wall! Don’t you IM?”) prove this out. But look at the men from my father’s generation. His parents won the Second World War, for Ah Pook’s sweet sake. Can you imagine being born at a time when the supremacy of the white male from the western world crested its high-water mark in history? When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer. In other words it was inevitably downhill from there.
My dad grew up into a young man as a folky, and while I could go on about having an appreciation for a while on how his music appreciation has vastly enriched my life, what I value most about my dad is that he has struggled to understand the world around him. Unable to stand the small-town mentality of northern Ontario he and my mother moved their family south to the big city and tried to instill in us kids a value for not just culture, but for what was right. Betrayed at every turn by changing demographic of population that values his place less and less since the heady days white guys brought down the Nazis, my dad has been noted by many as a paragon for stubbornness. This is the man who bought his first VCR when I was about eleven, and ever since the day I left home when I was nineteen there has been a little strip of paper taped over the flashing 12:00 because he can’t make himself learn how to change the clock on its face. A man who stopped voting years ago when he realized none of the politically parties available to him would ever make the clock go back to the world he grew up in. All this may be true but I think what I admire most about my dad is his ability to never cease being surprised by the world. Passion is one of those words you don’t hear applied too often anymore, with a straight face, but I think my father has never stopped being angered by injustice or become jaded to cruelty and suffering. That is a remarkable quality as we round the clock in the year 2010. Most people try to cultivate a ‘been-there-done-that’ coolness that ages bitterly but as my father ages I find more and more commonality with him through books and his writing and what is obviously still a mind eager to grow.
For most of us growing up is a contest of wills against our parents. We push hard to prove we’re different from them and its easy to pick apart their parenting. The truth is nomatter how bad they really were, with few exceptions they could have done a lot worse. We’re none of us perfect and while our parents tend to point out our shortcomings its really nothing compared to the scrutiny we apply to them. But the best part of us will always be from our parents, just focused through a lens of our experiences. And for every child who shudders at the thought that they may end up repeating the same mistakes of their parents, there is a father out there who is proud of how much his children have grown up beyond himself. I know that’s how I look at my kids every day, and I hope its how my dad thinks of me.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
i a woman
Said my two year old, looking me seriously in the eyes..
and this made me so happy. Why? Seriously, tears sprang to my eyes and and I felt all warm inside and hugged little bug super close.
Why?
Because my little baby is growing up and all the traits she has now, social, mimicking, fierce, strong, easily frustrated and easily consoled will all come with her and mellow and grow, sharpen and bend to make a grown up woman. That is so cool.
Maybe too because she will be a woman in the female sense, part of my tribe, changeable depending on the time of the month, with bubbas and other curves.
Maybe because the contrast of the word woman coming out of little mouth in that tiny sweet toddler voice is just touching.
It is a moment in time that I would like to remember. So here it is, recorded for posterity. I love you so much my little woman and I always, always, always will.
and this made me so happy. Why? Seriously, tears sprang to my eyes and and I felt all warm inside and hugged little bug super close.
Why?
Because my little baby is growing up and all the traits she has now, social, mimicking, fierce, strong, easily frustrated and easily consoled will all come with her and mellow and grow, sharpen and bend to make a grown up woman. That is so cool.
Maybe too because she will be a woman in the female sense, part of my tribe, changeable depending on the time of the month, with bubbas and other curves.
Maybe because the contrast of the word woman coming out of little mouth in that tiny sweet toddler voice is just touching.
It is a moment in time that I would like to remember. So here it is, recorded for posterity. I love you so much my little woman and I always, always, always will.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
One month
But dad - I still miss you. And it's funny because we didn't see eachother that much. Three times a year when you'd roll into town for a business trip. We didn't really talk on the phone.
Did you know that this year I resolved to call you once a month? I wanted to show you that I loved you so much, I thought it was important for Willow that we talk more regularly. I called in december. You were sick then but you didn't tell me. You asked me to pick a flat screen TV. A Christmas gift.
I couldn't. Because I didn't want you to think that I only wanted a TV from you. I wanted you to know that I loved you even if you showed up empty handed.
You never showed up empty handed. Two years ago, you brought us Christmas dinner with all the fixings. Thank you. Lush stuff, ipods, the computer I am typing on. I just want you to know that I loved you without the stuff. I loved the way you talked to T about airplanes and uh.. science, bringing him out of his shell when he came to dinner with a book. The way you made my family and I feel special and could talk about anything. Steph said it best - you made people feel smart and special and so alive. You had such good taste and lust for life.
You asked about the TV again when you went into the hospital the first time. I told you we would give it some thought. You wanted to get something for our new house. I told you we were looking but really, I was looking for ways to get down there to see you.
The old TV is quitting now - the one you got me for my first apartment.
The screen is getting darker and darker. Fitting really, it started to quit this winter. When it goes, I might get a projector. I just can'tget a new TV.
This is not a beautiful letter Dad. But I want to talk to you. And from time to time I will, even though I don't think you can hear me. I miss you. I feel a void where you used to be, even when you weren't there. It hurts, But I am okay.
All my love xoox
Kitten
Did you know that this year I resolved to call you once a month? I wanted to show you that I loved you so much, I thought it was important for Willow that we talk more regularly. I called in december. You were sick then but you didn't tell me. You asked me to pick a flat screen TV. A Christmas gift.
I couldn't. Because I didn't want you to think that I only wanted a TV from you. I wanted you to know that I loved you even if you showed up empty handed.
You never showed up empty handed. Two years ago, you brought us Christmas dinner with all the fixings. Thank you. Lush stuff, ipods, the computer I am typing on. I just want you to know that I loved you without the stuff. I loved the way you talked to T about airplanes and uh.. science, bringing him out of his shell when he came to dinner with a book. The way you made my family and I feel special and could talk about anything. Steph said it best - you made people feel smart and special and so alive. You had such good taste and lust for life.
You asked about the TV again when you went into the hospital the first time. I told you we would give it some thought. You wanted to get something for our new house. I told you we were looking but really, I was looking for ways to get down there to see you.
The old TV is quitting now - the one you got me for my first apartment.
The screen is getting darker and darker. Fitting really, it started to quit this winter. When it goes, I might get a projector. I just can'tget a new TV.
This is not a beautiful letter Dad. But I want to talk to you. And from time to time I will, even though I don't think you can hear me. I miss you. I feel a void where you used to be, even when you weren't there. It hurts, But I am okay.
All my love xoox
Kitten
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Family BBQ
Today was a beautiful day - we hung out as a family all day long. Usually on weekends I'm an impatient morning person, up and out with Willow before Wes' feet have hit the floor but this morning I decided against all reason to head to the museum of Nature because Willow had asked for the Dinosaur museum so many times and this weekend is the grand re- opening. So at 10:10, I ran upstairs to tell Wes were leaving in ten minutes - and he stumbled out of bed ready to go - on the condition that coffee be provided. Awesome.
So we get there, and there is a lineup. No, a LINEUP, around the block, barricades and all. The deal was that Willow would see dinos but I DON'T do lineups. A promise is a promise though, so we took her to see the dino statues outside. She climbed them and ran around and then with the promise of a Popsicle we headed to our old favorite park. I love two - no need to mend a broken heart, I got off on a technicality and a frozen treat.
The park was awesomely full of kids and she played and climbed and Wes and I chatted under a tree, drinking coffee. I wouldn't have planned to go all the way downtown to a park - but it was wonderful. Comforting to be back in old stomping grounds, doing something free and relaxing.
I love the new hood - but you can't beat the energy and diversity of a good old downtown park. Basketball game playing, full of kids, music ...
When we got home after a quick stop at Perfect books, where Willow and I had our own little story time and she got to pick a book - the fabulously simple but perfect two year book " Me hungry" , we spent the evening BBQing with Mike , Jehn and Dudley.
See below for hilarity, staring the wagon, the dog, and the ever high energy Jehn.
A dog and his bone. and ball. Wet ball. He kept dropping it in his water bowl and then wondered why we didnt want to throw it...
Uncle Mike in a wagon with Willow. Comfy but according to the crowd not a real radio flier as you can't steer it careening down a hill.
Party time!
"Look, a monster!" This is a good thing around here...
Super toddler tries to move a mountain -- well a Mike.
Ice cream!
Hiding from the monster...
So we get there, and there is a lineup. No, a LINEUP, around the block, barricades and all. The deal was that Willow would see dinos but I DON'T do lineups. A promise is a promise though, so we took her to see the dino statues outside. She climbed them and ran around and then with the promise of a Popsicle we headed to our old favorite park. I love two - no need to mend a broken heart, I got off on a technicality and a frozen treat.
The park was awesomely full of kids and she played and climbed and Wes and I chatted under a tree, drinking coffee. I wouldn't have planned to go all the way downtown to a park - but it was wonderful. Comforting to be back in old stomping grounds, doing something free and relaxing.
I love the new hood - but you can't beat the energy and diversity of a good old downtown park. Basketball game playing, full of kids, music ...
When we got home after a quick stop at Perfect books, where Willow and I had our own little story time and she got to pick a book - the fabulously simple but perfect two year book " Me hungry" , we spent the evening BBQing with Mike , Jehn and Dudley.
See below for hilarity, staring the wagon, the dog, and the ever high energy Jehn.
A dog and his bone. and ball. Wet ball. He kept dropping it in his water bowl and then wondered why we didnt want to throw it...
Uncle Mike in a wagon with Willow. Comfy but according to the crowd not a real radio flier as you can't steer it careening down a hill.
Party time!
"Look, a monster!" This is a good thing around here...
Super toddler tries to move a mountain -- well a Mike.
Ice cream!
Hiding from the monster...
Saturday, May 22, 2010
backyard swing
We have a back yard swing! In preparation for the good times of summer, we picked up this snazzy wooden prate swing - it will be set higher when the big kids get here and probably move to the front yard for higher swingage - but for now Willlow loves her hidden treasure.
things that make me happy
Lately life is a bit scary. Mostly when I stop doing. When I am busy at work or playing with Willow, pr cleaning or reading or making food I'm okay. Better than okay actually, very grateful to be alive and experiencing all of these things that make up life.
In the spaces in bween, when things slow down I am sometimes sad. Sometimes painfully sad and sometimes scared. Sad because I miss my dad and I know that I I will never hold his hand again and that this year, he won't show up with a Christmas tree and Lush soap, to sharea glass of wine and tell us stories about air traffic near disasters, his travels or the latest family gossip.
Sometimes in those spaces I get scared because I know that I am mortal now and death is not fair or patient or predictable.
When I'm scared and sad, momments like these carry me through.
In the spaces in bween, when things slow down I am sometimes sad. Sometimes painfully sad and sometimes scared. Sad because I miss my dad and I know that I I will never hold his hand again and that this year, he won't show up with a Christmas tree and Lush soap, to sharea glass of wine and tell us stories about air traffic near disasters, his travels or the latest family gossip.
Sometimes in those spaces I get scared because I know that I am mortal now and death is not fair or patient or predictable.
When I'm scared and sad, momments like these carry me through.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Gardening
One of the best parts of the new house is the backyard. The other night Auntie Emily came over and we moved the raspberry bushes and planted some lettuce. So far we've done a good job watering every night.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
New Living Room!
After some awesome tag-team we scored some kick-ass livingroom furniture on the kijiji.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Precious time
The weekend before dad died, I was lucky enough to spend precious time with him and four of my sisters.
Sometimes, today, I am so mad that I won't get to spend more time with dad, that I will not share another meal with him or hear another of his stories. But i am trying very hard to focus on the good that has come from his life. My sisters are all amazing women and they are my dad's greatest gift to me.
Together, we can keep the family going, keep the stories and the memory of dad alive. We can make new memories, share laughter and support each other. Share meals and good wine.
To my sisters, I love all of you. I am holding you close in my thoughts. Thank you for your support ans for sharing tears and laughter ( sometimes so inapropriate ; ) ) with me these past weeks. Please know I cherish you.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Dad
I love you dad. I love camping trips in Algonquin park, the way you ate the too thick powdered eggs and made me carry the canoe. I love your love of good food, good wine, good scotch, good steak. I love your curly hair and red beard, your kind sometimes so intense eyes. I love your solid hugs, your firm hand holding mine, your strength. I love the way you held my daughter so still and patient, watching her sleep.
Thank you for the long talks, though we don't always agree, for the appreciation for the delicious and the beautiful. Thank you for your love, sometimes expressed in hugs, sometimes in microwaves and TVs.
I love you dad, and I always will. You live on in me, my sisters and the eyes of my daughter that smile back at me with a spark that I know is yours.
love always,
Kitten
Friday, April 30, 2010
Hello to mommy in Edmonton
What do you do when mommy is out of town and it's Friday night?
Two words:
dance party!
Two words:
dance party!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Garden
The flowers are bloomin! Here are the tulips mostly. We also have
rhubarb
strawberries
blackberries
onion
chives
thyme
mint
daffodils
radish
cilantro
ferns
crab apples
roses
and lots of stuff I have yet to identify ..
I love weeding the garden, sitting out back and looking at it and through it. I love picking rhubarb and stewing it right away. Ray and Parise have contributed Thyme and Chive, Emily added radish and cilantro and Arrow planted borrage. It's like a living quilt! We are planning to square foot garden parts of it under Emily's guidance. I think the garden is way favorite part of the new house!
rhubarb
strawberries
blackberries
onion
chives
thyme
mint
daffodils
radish
cilantro
ferns
crab apples
roses
and lots of stuff I have yet to identify ..
I love weeding the garden, sitting out back and looking at it and through it. I love picking rhubarb and stewing it right away. Ray and Parise have contributed Thyme and Chive, Emily added radish and cilantro and Arrow planted borrage. It's like a living quilt! We are planning to square foot garden parts of it under Emily's guidance. I think the garden is way favorite part of the new house!
Banana-na na na na
And on a wrangy Saturday morning, with some bananas on the rot, we baked muffins. Willow call it "making". Works for me. The muffins were a little spongy and we may have eaten some dough.... Making was great fun though!
Willow and Duds
Because a toddler and a dog are so similar - happy, messy, loving and occasionally bratty. And so easy on the eyes.
Nana and Puppa visit ...
There are more pictures somewhere and I'll add them soon. But I love the one of Wes and Ray -- reflections of each other.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
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