It's funny, reading this post from 2010, because I was in the middle of solo parenting and NaBloPoMo then as I am now. It's sad, because Grandpa was alive then, and he's not now. I like to think he's drinking scotch and raising hell in some place that looks just like his sprawling, riotously-blooming backyard garden, sitting in a brightly painted Muskoka chair under a giant maple tree.
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In Which I Try To Be More Like Engie
By walking my dog three to four times a day? No. By training my dog to walk and behave and do a dance move or two? Also no. (can't even...
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I don't know how to do this other than as a sprawling, messy, off-in-all-directions thing. I can't do book reviews like Emily, who h... -
" My Mom got a speeding ticket because she was looking at garage sales." "You don't have to poo on me!" "This...
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To my American friends, I'm sorry. Not in any kind of distanced, pitying, smug way, because I believe we are headed in a similar direct...
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