Bibliomama

This was our annual weekend trip to Collette's dad's cottage, six of us, about an hour away from Ottawa. I'd say we've been doing it for about ten years. We leave Saturday morning, drive to the cottage and drop our stuff, do lunch and Christmas shopping in Newboro and Westport and then go back to the cottage for Susanne's amazing seafood fondue, drinks and games.

Some thoughts I had this time:

-It is strange driving the route that takes us right past the turnoff to where Matt's Nana and Grandpa used to live and we used to visit regularly. They haven't lived there for years now and we've lost them both, but I can drive the route without even thinking about it.

-I have been bitter (if you hadn't noticed) that the snow came so early this year, but the roads are clear now and the driving though the snow-covered fields and trees was very beautiful - I feel like there is maybe a lesson here, one that I'm trying very hard not to learn.

-If you are told…

Forgot to post tonight. Sorry.

You know the one, right?
Honestly, everyone who has posted this is a friend, and I'm not actually angry at them, because on the face of it, it makes perfect sense - snow is going to happen, so why not try to find the joy in it? The problem is, it's terribly simplistic. People aren't angry at snow because they're inherently cranky or miserable. For a significant portion of the population (seniors, people with mobility issues, Reynaud's syndrome GOOGLE IT), snow represents an actual hardship. It makes walking harder. It makes driving harder. None of these problems are going to be banished by thinking "oh, snow is so pretty, I will henceforth cease my uncivil grumblings!" 
I actually unfriended someone on Facebook last year because there was one more bad storm that coincided with a pretty bad mental health crisis and her chortling at Ottawa from warmer climes was the last straw (yes, I acknowledge that that was, in fact, down to me being cranky and miserabl…

What it looks like when my daughter comes into my room to discuss Important Things.

I realized last night that I might be in a bit of a manic phase, but the really annoying kind where I'm actually very tired but I still have trouble resting. After noticing with pleased surprised that my feet were doing quite well despite working and walking on the treadmill more often, I spent all afternoon Sunday in the basement on the cold hard floor cleaning and organizing (do you want to see the picture of my gleaming steel shelves with their gorgeously arrayed cans of soup and coconut milk and black beans? I WILL SHOW YOU AGAIN) and yesterday my feet and back were extremely cranky. So I came home after work and put them up like a sensible person, right? HA ha, no, I am dumb. I made dinner and made chicken stock and cooked a bunch of bacon for a recipe. I went upstairs to watch tv before bed and decided to go through the t-shirts in the closet ("decided" is actually my body getting jacked by my stupid brain, so my forebrain is thinking 'sit down, you idiot' …