I had to start reading your archives. I'm up to April 2011, which I think is just about 6 or 7 months before I started reading the blog, so I've almost closed the gap.
Matt and I went on a date and did shots! No, wait. Matt and I went on a date and got shots! The day of my last shot, I sat around nervously all day terrified I would miss my time slot and left an hour early. The days I was driving my parents for their shots, same. Yesterday I ran around with Eve all day trying to find some decent black shoes for her abbreviated graduation ceremony tomorrow evening because we realized she only ever wears boots or flip-flops (my kid, obviously) and other than some super-fancy shoes for prom, she had nothing. We could maybe be forgiven this lapse if this was the first time this had happened, but, um, it's not. So we went to a few stores without any luck, until we realized she didn't really know what she wanted, she just felt like maybe wearing her Docs for grad wasn't completely appropriate. To which I said, hogwash (I did, I used a quaint and un-profane epithet, you weren't there, you can't prove otherwise). I wore Docs for my weddi
I'm as susceptible to Christmas blues as anyone. I agree that expectations get out of hand, the stress level can be just stupid, and I often stop and wonder WHY am I doing this again? And yet, I composed a blog post in my head entitled "Bah Humbitch" upon reading a Leah McLaren column that told everyone not to send her Christmas cards, especially with stupid pictures of their children wearing Santa suits or antlers. And I left my first negative comment at a blog I generally really like today (not a 'you suck and you're stupid and I hate you' comment, just a 'this is a little unfair and I'm a little put out' comment -- I know, it must have really stung, in amongst all the comments telling her how fantastic and wise and one hundred and forty percent correct she is). And for the life of me, I can't really figure out why. photo credit creative commons license Okay, maybe I can, in the case of the Leah McLaren piece (it's called 'I'
Welp. Eve took the train back to school on Saturday. Week was too short. Hamilton is too far. I had a fitful, twitchy-leg, broken sleep the last two nights and I am sad and cranky. Eve and I went to Bluesfest for the first time the year she was 12, even though we both have anxiety, especially about crowded places ( Bluesfesting While Anxious , July 2015), and it became a tradition (which, let's be honest, happens with almost everything we do in this family and friend group that doesn't outright suck - our calendar of annual things is fairly crowded, which is cool because we are a family of lazy introverts, except Angus, he works out like five times a day, he's an un-lazy introvert). The day the lineup comes out is always exciting, and the two years it didn't happen because of Covid were weird and we missed it. Well, the lineup came out on Wednesday and it was...not exciting to me. This is kind of disheartening for obvious reasons, and also because a lot of my friends s
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