Taylor-Made to Make Me Feel Like a Chump

When I was at Zarah's last week-end (why have I not written about my fabulous Week-end at Zarah's one day this week instead of the endless, grating whinge-fest? Why, I don't know, it's a perfectly valid question) we enjoyed a wide variety of Songza playlists while cooking, eating, cleaning up the kitchen or getting ready to go out. Okay, it's probably slightly inaccurate to say we enjoyed a WIDE variety of playlists. We figured out in short order that if we were presented with any option containing the word "Mom", (Mom-friendly pop hits! Classic hits for Moms! Mom's hanging-out music!) we should just take it. Apparently, as far as Songza goes, we are eminently predictable and mainstream and Mommish.

We picked something with a Joni Mitchell theme at one point, and this song came on. Without thinking, I said "I love this song." Which I do. But I didn't know it was a James Taylor song. I heard it in my head sung by a sweet, high female voice - no idea whose. Later that night in bed, I tried for an hour to find that version on iTunes, fruitlessly, and now I have three or four versions of it and they're all nice, but none is exactly RIGHT, and it's vexatious.

Then I remembered this guy in university telling me that Taylor had written this song after some friends of his had bought his wife a plane ticket to see one of his concerts and the plane had crashed and she had DIED. I mean, Jesus, right? And, well, the lyrics: "Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone/ Susanne, the plans they made put an end to you", and "Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground". Plus, I was nineteen and highly credulous.

Thing is, it's a load of crap. A fairly widely-disseminated load of crap, because it's mentioned on Wikipedia. The actual story, that a friend had committed suicide but the news was initially kept from Taylor, is arguably equally as sad, if less Hollywood. The other night when I mentioned the first anecdote at a dinner party, my friend's husband immediately said "that has 'urban legend' written all over it". But like I said, young, unskeptical, and there was no internet back then. And the thing is, I don't even know if the guy who told it to me actually thought it was true or if it was a line (he did kind of segue into "oh, you look so sad, let me hug you after I remove these incredibly heavy and cumbersome pants").

I'd like to think I've become a bit more discerning in the intervening years. I hardly ever give money away to strangers with sob stories any more. Eve still gets me every April Fool's Day, though. I guess that's okay.

Now I'm going to see if there's a playlist for Moms Doing an Excel Assignment, or Music to Accompany Your Laptop Flying Through the Air.

Sorry, November: I love you not.

I just feel gross today. I feel bad, I look bad, the mother of all bad hair days is taking place on top of my head and there's something unspeakable going on in my right nostril. Matt and I went to watch Eve's African drumming class do their last-class performance. It was cool. Then we were supposed to mingle with the other parents, and while they all seemed nice, we didn't know anyone and it was as excruciatingly awkward as you might think that kind of thing would be when you're me.

So here, have some funny stuff that other people showed me.

I got this from Nicole and showed it to Eve when she got home from school. I was walking away and she was yelling "THE BUNNIES ARE SO CUTE". I said "just wait for the duckling" and she said "geez - spoiler much?"

I read this to the kids as Eve was eating before African drumming and Angus was skulking around the kitchen; the sandwich one actually made me cry and gasp for breath.

I often see Coffee With Jesus on Sherri's Facebook page and I LOVE it.

My whole body feels like hangnails. Everything is so Novemberish. Blah.

Kill the Wabbit (has nothing to do with this post, but it's on TV as I'm writing it)

This week has been - not bad, exactly, but wonky. After the book fair, which wasn't overly onerous but did deplete my introvert tank a little, and then having the kids home and extra kids here for project-completing and babysitting here on Friday, and then the dinner party on Saturday, I was feeling depleted. Then I felt more sick (when I'd been sick but feeling better) or sick again. Then the weather got blustery and my head went all thumpy. I'm out of sorts. I drop stuff. I bump into stuff. Solid glasses seem to leak when I try to drink out of them. This morning in the shower I punched myself in the face. I think maybe I was reaching for something and my face got in the way, but I'm not sure - I probably knew before I got punched in the face, but then I experienced some short-term memory loss. I'm feeling like I've provided a less-than-stellar showing in NaBloPoMo and wishing I'd done some more preparation, so I had a hook, or a theme, or at least some weightier, more insightful posts prepared, because just posting every day is a thing, but I'm not sure it's a particularly valuable thing.

But it's okay. I have shelter. My husband is in the country (until Saturday). I didn't have any urgent volunteer commitments. I have a few days before my next Computer Course assignment is due. I shopped for Maple Gingerbread Cake ingredients on Friday and got a few other things, so there was stuff in the fridge to make dinner.

Plus my family is abundant with the comfort and entertainment.

Eve came home after school and told me various things about her day, while sitting in my lap in the rocking chair - and by sitting in my lap I mean stretched across me with her feet hanging off the end of the ottoman, but it works for us. She said "If I ever have a boy I'm going to name him Shaun, but I'm going to spell it the S-E-A-N way so he can be a smartass and say "No, my name isn't SEEN, it's SHAUN." I said "I'd call you weird, but I punched myself in the face in the shower this morning, so I'm not sure I'm qualified." A few minutes later, she said to Angus "you're a smartass. Just like my kid." Angus looked confused, so I clarified "her imaginary son named Sean."

After supper, I was working on my assignment and Eve asked Matt to get her some ice cream. He got her some, then asked if I wanted some and got some for me and himself. Then he yelled downstairs to Angus to ask if he wanted some, and when Angus said no thanks he said "fine, then screw you and the horse you rode in on." He asked Eve if she wanted sprinkles. She said "if I say no, I suppose you're going to screw me and my horse too?"

All of which is to say, I've been reminded that ninety percent of parenting is just showing up. And in this house, ninety percent of hearing your kids say hilarious and fairly inappropriate things is just showing up (and hanging around the kitchen, apparently). And maybe, when you feel like you're hanging on to everything in your life by the ends of your fingernails (one of which gave you a tiny, humiliating cut on your chin when you punched your own self in the face in the shower one morning) ninety percent of blogging is just showing up. And now that I know I can show up every day for a month if I force myself to,then when I'm ready to do something with a little more substance, I won't have lost the habit.

That's what I'm going with. If you have a dissenting opinion, just stow it and eat your ice cream, will you?

Post called on account of someone beating on my mood with the ugly stick

Pro tip: rifling through the top bathroom drawer in search of that peppermint cream headache cure someone gave you or sold you when the headache in need of curing is already in full bloom and you can't really remember what kind or size or colour of container the stuff was in is unlikely to turn up anything more rewarding than some ancient and unforgivably frosty eyeshadow, some hand cream samples that have taken on the colour and texture of ear wax, and a fresh gripe to add to your surly little store, along with a couple more degrees of headache thanks to the frustration and the search angle.

I guess I'll just stick to drugs.

Why I'm Not a Food Blogger

Because when I finally decided at the last minute that I was making this for the dinner party, I should have assembled my fancy ingredients all at once to take a picture, but I didn't. Instead, I tried this, but Rose was sleeping on Eve and I was distracted and didn't manage to get a decent shot.

Then I realized that it probably would have been a better, more balanced shot if I had put the pecans, the ginger and the maple sugar all together, but by that time I had already chopped up the ginger and baked it in the cake. Also, you can't see the pedestal from this angle so it just looks like a tippy plate.

Then I was hemmed in at the table by other people who were drunk and pitiless and didn't care that my camera was unreachable in my purse and I have to post EVERY SINGLE DAY in November, so I didn't even get BAD pictures of Collette's amazing peanut soup with smoked chicken or Janet's fabulous Boston lettuce and feta and pomegranate salad with Cajun shrimp and Margot's marvellous Moroccan Salmon Cakes and Susanne's truly incomparable Beef Wellington which turned out perfectly even after Collette walked in and said "What are you making? Beef Wellington? That's REALLY HARD to make. It never goes well on that Gordon Ramsay show. I do NOT have a good feeling about this."

Anyway, here's the goddamned cake.

I also didn't get a shot of the maple sugar candies that Matt made because I was (incredibly stupidly) worried that after we cut the cake into ten pieces they would be too small for everyone, so he made them as garnishes for a (totally unnecessary) scoop of ice cream. I stuck one on top of the cake.

I'm a barely decent baker. I'm a truly horrible food blogger. I am unsurpassed as an eater. It's good to know your strengths, I always say.

Maple Gingerbread Layer Cake

With Salted Maple Caramel Sauce and Maple-Coated Pecans.

Pictures to follow.

(I know. Totally phoning it in. Sorry).

Something Before Midnight

I was supposed to babysit Rose today while Eve went to Marianna's. Eve got wind of this and refused to go to Marianna's until after Rose left. Which was good, because Rose completely prefers Eve.

First she was like "musical toys! Spoons! Cups! This place rocks!"

Then she was like "THIS IS TOTAL B.S! WHY WAS I LEFT HERE WITH THESE BUFFOONS?"

Which, as it turns out, was just "WHAT'S THE THING THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU'RE TIRED AGAIN? OH RIGHT..... ZZZZZZZZZ...."

Then she woke up and she was all "WTF?"

Then she was all "My Mom's back.... LATER, LOSERS."