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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Driving Eve Back to Hamilton
11:00 a.m: Eve smooches Lucy a hundred times and Matt once, and we head out. 11:30 a.m: we decide we will only listen to musical soundtrack...
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" 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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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... -
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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