I rearrange my friend’s Dexter and LOTR figures every time I visit. Here’s my reenactment of Rita’s death, if Rita had been played by Sean Bean.
I’ll never stop being amazed at how few people I meet who are willing to let the fuck go of the places and people and things that hold them down and back and hostage, and just leave.
But, she’s not the one who’s driving.
Jokes about Canadian winters have become irrelevant. In the past three years, we’ve only had to shovel three times. We had two huge snowstorms this year, so bad they had to close my kids’ school, which normally stays open because it’s a small city school and no kids take the bus. But the snow only lasted a few days because temps soon rose high enough that we had to worry about flooding.
When I was a kid, I hated shovelling because we had a huge, steep driveway and my asshole father’s nagging made any chore that much more miserable. But sledding was awesome. We’d head for the ravine after school and share horror stories about kids we knew who got mangled after running into stumps or trees.
My mother would take Polaroids of me sitting on top of the huge pile of snow in front of our house to send to relatives in Germany, hoping to shock them with our crazy Canadian weather.
This winter my kids wore running shoes most of the time on their long trek to school.
I work with toddlers, and pointed out to a fellow teacher that most of have no concept of what it’s like to be dragged around in a sled. They dip their mittens into tiny patches of snow on the ground, and run to show me, but most never had a chance to flop down and make snow angels. Although a few of the older children have tried making them on the bare ground.
One morning in late February, my daughter looked outside and announced she was going back to bed. “Um, why?” I asked. “Are you sick?” “No, it’s going to be a snow day,” she replied.
There were a few flakes on the ground. The huge snowstorm we’d had a few weeks prior was the only snow she’d seen in more than a year, so she just figured any snow on the ground meant she’d get the day off.
We adults have been happy not to spend the entire winter worrying about hazardous driving conditions and back-breaking shovelling. But in the back of our minds, the changes in our weather system are worrying.
How soon before we have to adopt floor hockey as Canada’s national sport?
On tonight’s Parks and Recreation, Ben called another character a major dick. I asked my 10-year-old, “Do you know what a dick is?” “No,” she said. “It’s a penis,” I said. “Oh… Can I have a Popsicle?” “Yes you can,” I replied. “But only because I’m so happy you didn’t know what a dick is.” “But you just told me!” she said, running for the freezer.
What my daughter didn’t get is that I’m happy my kid is still a kid. She goes to a good school in a good neighbourhood. She gets frustrated because classmates don’t have the same interests she does. She complains the girls are too girly and only watch shows on the Disney channel instead of Parks and Recreation and Community. They don’t like the same books,. And although there are boys into video games like she is, they dismiss my daughter for being a girl.
But at least the kids in her school are not overly sexualized pre-teens growing up too fast. I knew what a dick was when I was 10. I’m happy that I’m the one who gets to explain it my daughter instead of her hearing it “on the street.”
When I explained this reasoning to my kids, my 13-year-old son said, “Yeah, that makes sense.” My daughter said, “What? I don’t get it.” So I let her have another Popsicle.
This new ad campaign from Edmonton, Alberta targets the growing problem of men who don’t consider it rape if a woman is too drunk to know what’s going on. The ads will be posted in men’s washrooms in bars and clubs, as well as in LRT stations and campus and entertainment newspapers
Holy shit, I’m a virgin!
City girl begins making pecan pie from scratch. Film at 11.
Pecan pie is the only pie my kids will eat. They make fun of me for saying “pee-cahn” instead of “pee can.” Canadian’s don’t say “pee-cahn,” apparently.
I was so tempted to spell it “pee-caan,” as in James Caan. Oh my God, Sonny, don’t go after Carlo! It’s a set-up! Fucking Connie.