Here’s a wet-haired Anna with the scarf she knitted – all on her own – for Papa (my Dad) for Christmas. She made one for Jam (my Mom) too, out of a beautiful hand-painted alpaca blend, but it got away before I could snap a picture. There were a lot of handmade things exchanged here during my one month Journey into the Heart of Darkness (the, um, cold) so maybe we should have a photo session this afternoon.
The good news for Anna is that both Papa and Jam loved their scarves. So much, in fact, that Papa has requested a matching toque. Hmpf. He’s never requested a knitted anything from me.
Has it already been three weeks since Halloween? What’s that? It’s been more than three weeks?
Then I guess it’s too late to show you this:
Here’s Anna as The Most Familiar Sight in Nova Scotia. She even made the sign herself — with a little help from her Dad. Pretty good, huh?
Is it too late to show you this?
This is Foster as Captain Rex (from Star Wars, duh) in a costume made entirely by Foster and
me his father. It’s amazing what I they can do with some cardboard and an x-acto knife.
So it’s definitely too late to show you this:
Charlotte’s starring turn in Anne of Green Gables: The Musical in ten years is a given, wouldn’t you say?
The Boy Wonder No! I made the braids—me me me, not Whatshisname who tries to hog all the glory—and even went the extra mile to turn them into a hat so that (1) it would provide some warmth under the straw hat during trick-or-treating and (2) could be worn on its own for the rest of the winter. Genius, I know. I only mention it so you can see how humble I am about it. My genius, I mean.
I went as A Woman Who Generally Dislikes Halloween, but Walks Around the Neighbourhood With Her Children for Two Hours Anyway and Is Not-So-Secretly Hoping to Be Compensated in Mini Chocolate Bars. No costume required.
Well, this godforsaken heat wave seems like a good time to hide in the basement and look at the photos from my most recent expedition with the kids. Hint: It’s where the kids and I will move when (not if – when) The Boy Wonder leaves me for JLo. I hear she’s available now. And she’s totally his type, right?
See, I can say whatever I want because The Boy Wonder doesn’t actually read this blog unless I stand beside his desk saying, “Did you read my new post?” every forty-five seconds. Which is no different from anyone else I know, actually. Sigh. Is it bad manners to break into the homes of my friends and hold their computers hostage until they promise to leave a comment validating my efforts? Thought so.
In any case, here are the kids in PEI, where, when they aren’t stuffing their faces at the dairy bar, they practically live on the beach:
They dig and build and play and I beachcomb and it’s all very nice. This was my fortieth summer of hanging out on the beach in PEI and I’m still not tired of it. Never will be, I predict.
Here are Foster and Charlotte and something in a red pail:
What could it be?
Hey, it’s Gordon:
Gordon the crab, who was Foster’s best friend for the day. And no, I did not name Gordon after my grandfather. I can’t believe you would think I, of all people, would be so disrespectful. Foster named him and I immediately approved, knowing it would garner a tremendous stink-eye from my mother.
Heh. She doesn’t read this blog either.
We made another friend who (in a first, I believe) went unnamed:
He (she? I’m not up on my starfish boy and girl parts) clung to our hands with the same fervor I reserve for Swiss chocolate bars.
See that little orange dot near the middle of its back? That’s called a madreporite. Its function is to circulate water through the starfish’s body so it can move around and be the best darned starfish it can be. Did you know that?
No you didn’t, liar. Give me a break. Only this guy would have known that and he doesn’t read this blog either. (And on a side note, may I say how awesome it is that there is such a thing as The Echinoblog. I seriously admire those who are so motivated to share their love of and expertise on such a particular topic. It’s such a refreshing change from my own unfocused flakiness.)
And finally, here are the kids masquerading as ocean creatures:
Are there children who are able to pass by these cutout boards and not beg to have their photograph taken? I have never met a kid who could resist.
Oh, and one final pro tip: If you find yourself in Summerside on a Thursday evening, try the pasta buffet at The Loyalist Country Inn on Harbour Drive. The food is good, the price is reasonable and, best of all, kids’ meals are half price. Tell them Lori sent you.
And they’ll say, “Who?”
No, seriously they will. They don’t know me from a hole in the ground.
Have you been wondering what a teenager looks like these days? Wonder no longer:
big first baby turned the big one-three on June 24. Next year, I might have to bake a sheet cake to fit all the candles.
At least she gets candles. Fire regulations prohibit candles on my cake now. Safety first, etc.
Here she is, opening one of her few gifts that wasn’t jewellery:
She has a thing about jewellery in the same way I have a thing about books. And wool. And bags. And office supplies. And vegetable seeds.
Here she is with her brudda and sista:
Three birthdays within a month. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
“You need to have another baby,” Anna said a few days after her birthday.
I know it’s out of character, but I might have said something the tiniest bit impolite, like, “Good God, why?”
“Because three birthdays aren’t enough. We need someone with another birthday so we can have another cake.”
I maybe, possibly, just might have snorted and rolled my eyes. “I think I’d rather skip the baby part and just bake another cake.”
The kids erupted in cheers and exchanged high fives. Snookered me again. This is exactly how I got scammed into owning two dogs, a cat and a fish. These kids are good.