The Ocean Calls

Inspiration began to egg me on when we came to an interesting sand sculpture in the mall recently…

Pirates, sand… calling me to the ocean.

Then the sun shone on my day off (wonder of wonders).

Then, to top it all off, I noticed over at Big Girl Underoos that Big Girl had committed the brave and courageous act of buying a two piece swim suit. How could I not be inspired in the act of such fearlessness?

I knew it was time I did the same.

First the girls and I headed to the Dollar Store to purchase an assortment of buckets and shovels, suitable for building castles extraordinaire. Then to the Department Store where each of us would pick out a new two-piece for this summer. If Big Girl could do it, so could I. Amazingly, in a total of about 15 minutes, we were fully equipped in swim gear, each choosing the very first one we came upon it seemed.

I have to confess here that I was not as brave as I am letting on I was. The two piece I choose, has one of those shirt like tops and a skirty bottom so the outfit sort of resembles a very short sun dress. In fact, I think it covers more bod than the now retired one-piece (which was rarely worn but looked as if it had been). But in my humble estimation, the very fact that there is now a separate top and bottom is a huge step up for me, who typically wears the shorts and baggy t-shirt sort of look to the ocean.

Despite the fact that by the time we had hit both stores, and it was late in the afternoon, we headed to the beach to christen our purchases. And while no amazing sand sculptures resulted from the venture, we still look forward to many more visits to the beach in the weeks to come. Perhaps practice will help our sand art.

(Oddly, there are no photos of Sock Girl’s new swimwear. Funny, that.)

Summer Begins

Ahhhhh….
That is a collective sigh of relief.

It is the last day of school for the girls. They, of course, are looking forward to just not doing school work. I too am delighted for the break in homework help and more particularly making packed lunches.

The current plan is to take my summer holidays as a series of long weekends, with each Friday off. We have done this in the past, and it was a lovely having something to hang over their heads as a bribe for good behaviour look forward to each week. Of course, luck being what it is these days it will probably rain each and every Friday, but I’m sure we’ll cope just fine.

And the summer will end with something we have not yet tried. Day camps. Yes… bad mommy that I am, I have never sent my kids to any kind of a camp. This year, however, we are on it… one week of art camp and one week of fun/fitness camp.

I commented to a co-worker that I wish I were going to art camp. I’d like to do art all day long. She reminded me that most adults call that jail. (Perhaps I’ll just buy myself a colouring book and crayons… )

Happy start of summer everyone!

My Brother’s Surprises

As a bit of background information, whenever my brother and I were asked as children what we wanted to be when we grew up, my father always suggested the careers of doctors and lawyers. Grandchildren still receive the same suggestion. I recall once Dolittle telling my father she wanted to be a dog walker. My father, of course, said, “Why don’t you be a doctor or a lawyer?” to which she responded, “No, I’m going to walk their dogs.”

In January my brother headed to Afganistan with the Canadian forces, with an expected date of return in August. But before he left, we had a little project…

My brother actually did want to be a doctor. While he currently worked in a hospital in another field, he wanted to play an even bigger role in health care. So before he left for Afganistan, he sat down at my computer, and sent off his application to a medical school in Ontario.

This school received 5000 applications for 162 seats. They interviewed the top 10% of students. In March he got an interview (which happen to coincide with a break he had). And last month my brother received word that he IS one of those 162 future doctors. Even better, the forces were sending my brother home at the end of June to get settled and move, etc., before he begins his training in September. And I couldn’t blab because my brother wanted to surprise my parents and his kids with both the news of his early homecoming, and his new career path.

So, this weekend, Brother presented his many happy surprises. He showed up at my parents work and spread the joy (you can probably still hear them saying “Oh My G*d!!” if you listen closely). He also posed as a waiter to suprise his kids at a pizza restaurant. And FINALLY I can tell you all this story.

I love ya’, Brother. And I am so very proud of you.

Facebook…

At the risk of appearing totally not “with it”…

I’ve been thinking about this Facebook thing. It seems everyone is doing it, and I’m thinking I’m missing out on something. Unfortunately, however, I can’t quite wrap my head around it.

From my understanding, this is some kind of internet networking thing, where people I haven’t seen in years, and never think about, and probably would be just as happy never seeing again, can find me.

And maybe write on my walls.

And those are good things? Really?

I’m not getting it.

Grounded

Rainbow was in a foul mood last night. And it was all a matter of frustration really…

She wanted to fly. And it wasn’t working.

She made paper wings. She made paper feathers, careful to to add a stem so they could be inserted into carefully made slits in paper wings. She took the paper wings and flapped. She jumped and flapped. She jumped off the deck and flapped. Effort upon effort, still she did not fly.

“You can not fly,” I tried to explain. “You are people. People do not fly. Birds fly. It will not work.”

To which she responded…

“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!!!!”

Alrighty then.

Let the jumping and flapping continue.

Tonight she is anxious for me to take her to the bargain store so she can spend her savings on a helium balloon.

For fear of rekindling last night’s experimentation if it is not involved in this dream of flight, I have not asked if there is a connection.

How To Tell Sock Girl Does Her Own Hair Colour

Nuf’ said.

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Dear Carrie Underwood

First, and I completely realize that my first point is no fault of yours other than you made the darn song, but the radio station has GOT TO STOP playing “Before He Cheats” before I explode. In a three hour shift on Friday night they played it twice. Twice. In three hours. Don’t you think there are enough songs out there that one can be spared having a single song repeated more than once in a three hour period? Anyway…. that one is only marginally your fault.

But what is really bugging me is the song itself. You are singing about a situation where you use the word “probably” seven times.

- he’s PROBABLY slow dancing
- she’s PROBABLY getting frisky
- he’s PROBABLY buying her a fruity little drink
etc. (I’ll spare readers the verbatim repeat).

My question is, before you actually go ahead and trash the vehicle (which is most likely against the law where ever it is you are singing from), shouldn’t you have a bit more than PROBABLY?? Shouldn’t you have a couple of DEFINITELY’s? I have no doubt the man is a rat-fink, but do get some FACTS before committing a criminal act, dear.

And that one little thing makes the repetitious playing of the song all the more painful. Definitely.

Time

Ever feel like there is just no time for everything? My house is a mess, the garden needs weeding, I have books I want to read, I have things I want to write, there is laundry to do (and the dryer is broken), I need to have a nap (and it’s only morning), and there is just no time to get everything done what with the working for a living thing. Shame that work has to get in the way! Wasn’t I supposed to have more time once I finished classes? I haven’t yet figured out why that’s not exactly the case.

And while I was thinking about time and how I never seem to have enough, the moderator of a listserv I read recently posted this quote:

“What would you attempt to do if you could not fail?”

Hmmm… and if I had time to attempt something… anything… what would I do? What would I create? What would I write? What job would I do? It’s interesting to ponder.

So, now I feel the need even more to get my time under control a little more, because at the moment there isn’t even time to do what needs to be done, let alone what I’d like to get done.

But tell me… if you could not fail, what would you attempt?

Spelling Counts (apparently)

Rainbow came home from school with a note in her school bag from two friends. It read:

“Ounc a pan atim thar wasse a speshl prinses cald (Rainbo)”

“That’s a lovely note,” I said to her. “You must be very happy.”

She shrugged. “They spelled my name wrong.”