reasons to love and fear Foster

After supper the other day, Foster took me aside and said, “I need to get a job. How do I get a job?”

“Why do you need a job?” I asked.

“Because I need some money.”

“Why do you need money?”

“Because there’s a Lego man Charlotte really wants and I want to buy it for her.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And I need two dollars so I can go to that machine in the mall, the one where you use a claw to pick up a toy, and try to get the blue bear for Charlotte. She really, really wants that blue bear.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” I said and thought, awwww, quit breaking my heart, kid. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard? How many ten-year-old boys do you know who spend their time daydreaming about what to buy their little sisters?

The next day, a Body Shop order arrived for me and included in the box were three little manicure sets – one for each kid. (They were marked down to $2 – go check it out if you need a manicure kit because there might be some left.) Inside each kit is a pair of nail scissors, nail clippers and a metal nail file.

Within a minute of receiving his, Foster held up the pieces one at a time to show me. “Look, Mom. The clippers are for snapping the lock on the gate, the scissors are for cutting the phone lines, and the file is for stabbing somebody! It’s The Ultimate Murder Kit!”

Uh, okay.

Sweet, loving, considerate, homicidal freak.

See this innocent little face?

If he asks for a two dollar loan, I’d just give it to him.

 

insert your own snow pun

Although yesterday’s predicted snowpocalypse wasn’t as exciting as I’d hoped, I’m not going to be one of those people who sneer, “Duh, it’s Canada. It snows. Get over it,” because I understand the advance buzz about these storms makes life a little more exciting and I’m all for that.

We weren’t buried alive in snow, but we did receive a fair amount – I’d guess between a foot and a foot and a half or whatever that is in metric. (Must remember to study up on the metric system soon because I “teach” it to the kids next month. Maybe they’ll know it and can teach me.) Anyway, I can’t gauge exactly how much snow fell because I’m doing all my guesstimating from inside where it’s warm and dry and requires slightly less shovelling.

Exhibit A: snow drift on the deck, taken during the storm yesterday afternoon –

 The table on the right that’s almost covered in snow is quite a tall table, so I’d guess the drift is a good two and a half feet, maybe three feet there. No, I will not go measure it.

Exhibit B – snow drift at front door, taken this morning –

Note the impression of the door panels in the compressed snow. Very classy.

Exhibit C: Murray met by wall of snow at back door, taken this morning –

Poor guy. Nowhere to look but up.

product shown is not actual size

The late January sun slices into the kitchen at just the right angle to make a foot wide sunbathing area for the dogs, which they politely share:

 It doesn’t last long so they soak it up while they can.

While I was transferring that photo from the camera to my computer, I came across this unexplained bit of weirdness:

I don’t know what it is exactly, who made it or who took the picture, but I’m guessing it’s candy. Some kind of candy sculpture. I shudder to think about what might be holding the pieces together.

This photo is what I get for leaving the camera within reach of the short people.

the most (fill in the blank) time of year

As the kids get older, I find Christmas more and more enjoyable with every passing year. Sure, babies and toddlers are cute and it’s fun to dress them up and watch them scream their guts out on Santa’s knee, but they’re also needy and irritable and poop a lot, none of which are qualities I purposely seek out in friends and companions. This pre-teen age, however, is perfect. They aren’t too jaded or “cool” to be excited about Christmas, they hide themselves away for hours before Christmas to make gifts for everyone and, most importantly, they no longer beg for big, noisy, obnoxious, battery-devouring toys that make me want to hurl them (the toys, not the kids) into the driveway and back over them. Repeatedly.

No, now they want books and clothes and make-up and technology. They want to walk into Future Shop and take one of everything, essentially. Which would be expensive, but still better than having a house that looks like a Toys R Us.

Here are the young revellers, modelling t-shirts and a new tiger hat:

 And here’s Foster, ever-so-slightly pleased with his new Wii game:

And Charlotte (for whom every day is Hallowe’en), cuddled up with Glen in a new fuzzy blanket:

And Anna, trying to put on Glen’s new parka:

See that poor dog? That right there is the definition of resignation. Look at his limp little limbs. Why bother struggling? Just let the giant, pink, tiger-headed girl have her way and eventually she’ll get distracted and move on to something else. Fortunately, he received a ton of new toys and treats to make up for the humiliation.

My birthday, on the other hand, never seems to become more enjoyable. I turned 39 (shriek! how can this be?) on December 28 and my lovely family took me out for Chinese food before bribing me with gifts to continue doing their laundry for another year, then presented me with this:

Cupcakes decorated to look like balls of yarn. How cute is that?

the storm with no name

Well well well, that was quite the blast we received on Monday night. It probably does not reflect well on Environment Canada that they’ll spend a week inciting panic in anticipation of a monster hurricane that turns out to be an hour of drizzle and a stiff breeze, yet no one I’ve spoken to had any idea this storm was coming. It was about the worst I’ve ever experienced and while we had minor property damage (our chimney fell off the roof and our composter blew away, believe it or not), we were very lucky compared to many of our neighbours.

Our next door neighbours lost a whole bunch of shingles, a chunk of their shed’s roof and several big trees, but at least a power line didn’t fall on their house, as it did further down the street. And thank goodness one of those big old trees didn’t slice through their house, as happened in New Minas, a town not far from here. Our particular little neighbourhood was also lucky in that our power and telephone service were restored after only 15 hours; my parents (who live five minutes away) went without for 43 hours.

This is an example of what an awful lot of trees around here look like now:

 Or they look like this one, just down the street:

Here’s a shot of the telephone poles along our street:

Between our house and the area in this shot, the poles snapped the other way and the live wires were lying on the road. I was tempted to stop and whip out the camera, but thought the Mountie sitting there might not approve.

Oh, and the super-mailboxes (are they still called that?) were toppled:

Here’s another one of leaning poles, not far from my parents’ house:

And the traffic light at the intersection was gone. Note the dangling wires. I wonder whose window it crashed through.

Look carefully and behind the trees you’ll see a collapsed barn:

Church Street was blocked by a fallen tree:

And further up Middle Dyke Road, the metal roofing of a barn was peeled back like a tin of sardines:

Tree meets wires:

And road sign meets ground:

These shots, from our immediate area, are a fraction of the local damage. In New Minas, the golf course reportedly lost about a hundred big trees and a trailer park had to be evacuated mid-storm because the roofs were being blown off and/or being crushed by falling trees. The roof of a funeral parlour in Kentville was blown away and a young man was almost crushed in his car by a falling tree in Windsor. In our own village, the roof was torn off an unoccupied building, causing so much damage the whole thing was bulldozed on Tuesday.

The worst part is this storm didn’t even have a name. In Nova Scotia, everything is Hurricane Juan this and Hurricane Juan that, but here in the Valley, we have nothing. It’s “that thing on Monday night.” Or “wow, that was a hell of a whatever-it-was, wasn’t it?” How will we reminisce with something so unwieldy? Without a snappy name everyone recognizes? I demand satisfaction, Environment Canada.

photo dumping

It’s out of character, granted, but I don’t have much to say these days. That is probably because I spend every moment flailing frantically, trying to keep my head above water. I know being busy is better than the alternative and I can rest when I’m dead and all those other condescending (and morbid) expressions people throw in your face after asking how you are and hearing the response, “Busy.”

I don’t say I’m busy because I want sympathy (I chose to take on most of my current responsibilities, after all) or because it makes me sound important (aside from being the only one around here to remember everyone’s birthdays, I’m completely replaceable); I say it because it’s true. I have a lot on the go, too much on the go, and I’m struggling to make it all work. I have the bad feeling something has to give and I’m not sure what that something will be. I’ve already jettisoned exercise, all creative pursuits and a social life, so what next? Personal hygiene? Eating? Sleeping?

So, upon realizing I had nothing to write about except my insane daily schedule, I decided to have a look through the past several months of photos on Anna’s digital camera in the hopes of finding a nice picture or two. What I found was…interesting. Anna’s camera is used by everyone (except The Boy Wonder, who seems to have no desire to prance around taking photos with a tiny, pink camera) and as the photographer gets younger and younger, the photos get weirder and weirder. I’ll spare you the countless shots of Lego constructions, Littlest Pet Shop posters, blurry shots of the dog and deeply unflattering close-ups of the humans. (Most important lesson I learned this afternoon: I have no good side.)

But I did find this:

 Anna took this in our office the other day and I call it, “Forbidden Embrace in Office Supply Closet.” It isn’t in a closet and they’re free to embrace, but I think it adds a little excitement and mystery, don’t you?

Oh, and this:

I took this shot on a home-schooling field trip to Halifax to visit the Museum of Natural History and the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. I call it “Sullen City Bird.” He agreed to this photo in exchange for a french fry.

And this:

“Bald Eagle Contemplating Small Dog for Afternoon Snack.” This photo was taken by Charlotte, I think. It might have been Anna. I can’t remember, but I’m sure they’ll waste no time in correcting me if I’m wrong.

And continuing the bird theme:

“Outside my Dirty Kitchen Window an Osprey Takes Flight.” Shot by me a couple days ago. Not shot shot.

And then I found two photos, also taken by me, that beg for an expanded collection:

Caterpillar on pavement.

Giant slug on pavement.

How exciting to have a new project.

cue drumroll

Introducing Glen:

 After a couple days of brainstorming names and another couple days of debating them, the top two contenders were Graham and Nathan. And then I suggested Glen. Oh. Glen. We were all instantly sold, except Foster, who is still calling him Nathan. He’ll come around. Or he won’t and the poor dog will never really know what his name is.

Glen seems to be settling in well and is having a ball with Mia, who also seems happy to have someone to do dog-type things with (butt-sniffing, running in circles, pleading to stay indoors) and doesn’t smack her on the head for no reason, like Murray the bully cat. For his part, Murray seems pleased to sit back whenever Mia and Glen are horsing around and watch the show. It’s a good deal all around.  Meanwhile, the sole surviving fish is thinking, uh, hello, still swimming all alone over here.

To give the young lovebirdsdogs a special place of their own, I bought a nice, plush cat bed yesterday and look:

Tandem snoozers.