Wednesday, August 31, 2016

This is Not That Post

Remember how I took Eve to Bluesfest for the first time last year and almost died of anxiety? But also found out that she loves Bluesfest as much as I do, because we both love live music more than we hate crowds? And crowds outside are different from crowds inside (usually - more on that later)? So this year I got us passes again and when it was time to drive there for the first time I felt a sort of baffled tenderness for last-year me because what's the big deal? And Bluesfest was wonderful.

But this is not about that.

Some of you might remember a big dress-code kerfuffle stemming from an incident on Eve's three-day year-end camping trip in June. A male teacher asked that a girl change her jean shorts because they made him "uncomfortable", I email the principal and vice-principal, the vice-principal doubled down on a bunch of stupid untrue stuff, Eve's idiot teacher made it all worse, I threatened to escalate my complaint and the principal sort-of capitulated.

Photo credit Dennis Deery

But this is not about that.

This is about me, the woman who had said "for God's sake, she was wearing a bikini two hours earlier, how much worse could a pair of jean shorts be?" sitting on a blanket at Bluesfest, with my head squarely at ass-level, looking around at a sea of flapping butt-cheeks, thinking...

"I may have been mistaken".

Kidding. Mostly.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Oh, Never Mind, Blogging's Dead

I was so anxious about the fact that I wasn't blogging back in - whenever that was. At one point, I started typing my URL and it didn't auto-populate to my site, but sent me to the Ottawa Public Library instead. I felt sick.

Then I thought - what the hell am I worried about? I don't get paid for this. I figured out quite a while ago that I'm not going to try to get paid for this. Are all my readers going to leave? Well, most of them are my friends, so chances are NOT.

I get confused about what exactly this blog is sometimes. Who cares? It doesn't have to be anything. I can just write about whatever random nonsense is in my head, or write down things that I don't want to forget, like how today after I took the kids to the meet-and-greet appointment with their new doctor at the ridiculously close-by new clinic, which lifted my kids-doctor's-appointments anxiety by eight hundred percent, we went to the Dairy Queen and they fake-fought hilariously and poked each other with ice cream spoons and then we saw one of Angus's friends and he was waving at me and I thought he was a total stranger because I hadn't seen him for a year and suddenly he looks like a man. Then when we got home, one of Eve's friends had moved our little green decorative chair from the side of the front step to right in front of the door and left a little pop figure of Hermione on it for Eve, but Angus was unfamiliar with pop figures and found the movie Annabelle terrifying and thought someone had left us an evil cursed doll, so he jumped out of the car, grabbed the doll and ran down the road screaming and tried to throw it in the bush.

So hey, if you're still here, thanks for waiting, or coming back. Apparently blogging's dead, but so is eighties hair and I'm still rocking that. I love hanging out with you here, and that's what I'm going to keep making myself remember.