Mid-Week Miscellany

It's Wednesday, and I haven't posted since Monday, and I don't want to just let the week go by postless again, but I don't really have anything. I had book club tonight. We read a first draft of my friend Sharon's first novel Keeping Mum, which she printed out and bound for all of us. It was really good - it was so good that I totally forgot I was reading something by someone I knew while I was reading it.

I heard Rihanna and Britney Spears kissed at some awards ceremony. I was astounded. That anyone actually bothered to report it.

It's Eve's dance recital on Sunday. It's at the National Arts Centre, downtown, the same day as the Ottawa Race Week-end. This is causing me intense driving and parking anxiety, exacerbated by the fact that my Mom is supposed to come with us. I'm trying to convince my husband that we should just take the bus, but he's not really a bus guy. I'm trying to concentrate on the fact that dance recitals in the past have consisted of a rigid routine of steps, expensive costumes and eighteen-step instructions for how to do the dancers' hair, while this one consists largely of choreography the girls have made up themselves, five-dollar tie-dyed t-shirts and no particular instructions for hair at all. After years of bitchy office managers and self-fashioned temperamental artistic types, we are so happy where we are.

Angus had track and field day at school. He placed first or second in the 100 metre, the ball throw (big surprise) and the relay. He then came home and wandered around moaning about lactic acid build-up and begging for leg massages all night. Matt massaged his quads, which then prompted Eve to insist that her baseball game was hard on her legs too and that she also needed a leg massage. She then proceeded to leap a foot off the bed shrieking with laughter and bit down on her comforter to endure the rest of the massage. Sometimes you have to suffer for equality.

Then I read this post of Nicole's, which reminded me (in an unclear, tangential manner) of when we were at my sister's place last summer. We'd gotten there late so somebody went out and got us all McDonald's for supper. Later, the kids and I were up in my five-year-old nephew Jonah's room as he was being put to bed. For a bedtime story, my sister was reading him a book about fish, and she was at the section about salmon swimming upriver to spawn. She read, "baby salmon are called fry". She kept reading, but Jonah's eyes widened and he interrupted to ask, "do we EAT salmon?" She said that we do sometimes, and his eyes got even wider and he said:


Well, it was McDonald's. Who the hell knows what are in those fries, exactly?


Gwen said…
Dancing at the NAC?! Eve must be pretty excited. I am pretty impressed!!! I would drive. I'm not a bus person either...
Nicole said…
Thanks for the link, and that totally made me laugh. It's like the day Mark made the connection between barnyard turkeys and Thanksgiving. Hee hee.

I have a few girlfriends whose daughters are in dance - ballet and Irish - and I was STUNNED to hear what the hair requirements were. Especially for Irish dance. Did you know they have to have their hair done in spiral curls? Perfect, little, sprial curls? My friend actually bought WIGS for the girls to wear. I was shocked that wigs for Irish dance are actually very common. For little girls. OH MY GOD.

And, I didn't hear that about Rihanna and Britney, but come on people. Is anyone interested in girl-on-girl kissing anymore? I mean, other than the people who watch certain "films"?
Hee. I've never made the fry connection before.
Wrath Of Mom said…
When I was little we'd collect buckets of capelin at the shore, and give them to my grandfather. He'd use them as fertilizer in his potato patch, & one year he convinced me that he was growing fish and chips.

I'm not sure this has anything to do with your original post, but it's late and I'm tired and really, really regretting having a shot of espresso at 7 PM. I'M A WEE BIT WIRED!!!

Wish Eve luck w/ her dance recital. And congrats to Angus on his race.
Magpie said…
I can't wait to tell my father, the salmon fisherman, this story.
Amber Strocel said…
This is not strictly relevant, but as part of my little freelance gig with my local arts council I got to look up every dance school in my local area. And by the end of it, if I read one more description of how dance class was going to make my kid brilliant and successful and better at school, I was going to SCREAM.

On the upside, I now know which dance school I would send my kid to, because they said, "Kids like to dance because it's fun." Imagine that!

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