Saturday, July 04, 2009


Ponderings From The Shore

Yes, I know, another post. Don't get all het up or anything. Think of it as a special Independence Day present to my neighbours (or sorry, neighbors) to the south.

I worked Thursday night from midnight to 8am on Friday, came home and got about three hours of broken sleep (although now I'm more awake than anyone should be at 2am on Saturday; go figure).

However, tired as I was when I got up, my services were required.

My dear friend C had to go to work yesterday. She's a single mom, working like hell to keep body and soul together and make a good home for her twins. Unfortunately, the other day, after slaving for weeks like a navvy to make enough money for rent (hauling scrap metal, doing odd jobs, gathering and cashing in like $100 worth of cans and bottles for recycling while waiting for her new job to start), she lost her wallet.

A wallet with over $500 in it.

Now some people are honest, however apparently a wallet with that much money in it is more temptation than others can resist, and it hasn't been returned, so even though through the intervention of her parents she managed to make rent (and imagine how much fun it is to have to ask your parents for rent when you're almost uh, thirtymumble years old) she had to go out and haul scrap again yesterday to pay for goofy little things like, oh, cable, electricity, hot water, food. You know, those little luxuries upon which folks like us are wont to splurge.

Her kids are old enough to spend the day on their own, and in fact often babysit Her Surreal Highness for a few hours here and there when I have to juggle my own impossible schedule, but it's pretty boring sitting home all day long and she asked me if I'd take them out somewhere with HSH. She's saved my bacon about eleventy billion times, so the only possible answer was "yes, of course."

We chose to go to the beach, where her kids, who swim like fish, had a fantastic time and where E discovered that in fact she doesn't swim as well as she would like and requested swimming lessons as part of this summer's regimen. (I said yes).

While lolling about on the sand (in black jeans -- WHAT was I thinking??) I pulled out my ever-present little notebook and scribbled a thought or two that I thought I should share with you.

1. The company of children, like cheap liquor, when taken in great quantity is apt to make you vomit.

2. Children are far more pleasant when they are about 100 yards away, and in the water, optimally with the wind blowing in the other direction so you can't hear them at all.

3. It is preferable if those children are alive (I'm not completely lacking in maternal instinct; I mean I wouldn't, like, eat my young or anything, I'm just not Mary Poppins. I did, however, buy them all ice cream and brought them home as hale and hearty as they were when they left, so I'm hoping that gets me a few points).

4. Boob implants look like boob implants no matter how young or how buff you are. Even in your early 20s, you shouldn't have lighthouses sticking up from your chest when you lie on your back on the beach. That being said, I appreciate the brevity of the swimsuits being worn by the aforementioned surgically-enhanced young ladies and would encourage them to continue with their research into the limits of swimwear.

5. Children (oh here I go again, call the Ministry) who are stupid enough to annoy Canada Geese by splashing water on them when they are serenely bobbing about on the waves minding their own business perhaps deserve a little menacing by said geese.

6. The plural of biscotti is surely biscotti, is it not, and not biscottis? (This from another barely-adequate book I was reading while lolling on the shore. I could be wrong on this but it just sort of struck a jarring note.)

Hmm, being a pedant, I've just looked it up at that online dictionary thingie and apparently the singular is biscotto and the plural is biscotti. At no point is it appropriate to use "biscottis". You can probably argue with me on this one but I'm just not interested; I've proven to my own satisfaction that the book was wrong and have demonstrated my moral superiority by not correcting it before returning it to the liberry. I can die happy now.

Anyhow, those were just a few scribbled thoughts I felt I needed to share. You're welcome.

And now for the meat of this post:

Tomorrow is the natal day of Her Surreal Highness. Nine years ago minus one day, I was being cheerfully sliced open by the sure and thankfully steady hand of Dr. R, after having endured six days of the medical community's attempts to induce labour (or labor, seeing, you know, the folks to the south and all).

My hoo-ha had seen the films about how babies usually come out and was heard to mutter "I can't be having with dilation and pushing, nasty stuff and all" a la Nanny Ogg. I mean really. I just couldn't possibly imagine doing such a thing and apparently my nether regions were in agreement. Anyhow, she arrived all well and healthy and a tidy scar that nobody ever sees is a small price to pay for her magnificence.

Her Majesty is my only chicken and although few can drive me to distraction (or drink) more quickly than can she, I treasure every moment of her life and every hair on her head. Even if she does poke at the batwings on my arms when I'm skeining yarn and asks me why I've gone all jiggly and then giggles like a madwoman as my face turns purple.

We've had some fiscal shenanigans over the last year or two, what with Mr. Assmuppet not having a permanent full-time job and with me being mentally incapable of much more than remembering where the bathroom is. He's working full-time now, thank the FSM, and I seem to be myself again (my apologies to all who didn't like me much in the first place; I'm afraid I'm back and I'm not going away again). The long and the short of it was that I was uncertain that we'd be able to do much in the way of birthday celebrations for Missy Moo, however the week has been quite wonderful.

There have been celebrations all week. My friend Ann send a Box O' Goodies which was received with squeals of glee. She has sons, no daughters, but she always seems to know the exactly right things to send. Gramma P also sent a box which got here yesterday, to an equal number of squeals of glee. Dresses! My kid doesn't wear dresses but these were bang-on and the kid's going to wear them happily.

My friend C has a friend who got her tickets for The Jonas Brothers concert this past Monday, at which I am told E danced and sang and screamed with the best of them.

I'm a little disappointed, in that my first concert was Blue Oyster Cult, definitely not a "boy band" but hell, she's eight and I was fifteen; one takes what one can get.

(And I sort of like the Jonas Brothers, too. Don't tell anyone, k? It'll be our little secret.)

We have also arranged for a party at the Laserdome. An hour or so of running about and shooting and then 15 minutes' climbing on the rock-climbing wall, followed by pizza, pop, chips and an ice cream cake. The minimum booking is for ten kids (including the birthday person). We've had eight responses, which means that unless someone shows up unannounced (they often do) there will be one slot left. My friend had said that the Laserdome was a great place for a birthday; they do all the work and I can just sit there and knit. However, unless there's a surprise arrival, you can bet there's going to be a mommy hiding behind the rocks and shooting people, and despite my fear of heights (which is immense and causes close-to-paralysis in me) I think I'll do the wall, too. So there.

The best thing, though? The Complete And Uttar Best Thing Evar?

The delicious and talented Lala has fallen upon hard times and is at the moment a "woman of leisure". She has been volunteering at the Rock Camp for Girls in California and told me that there was one in Vancouver, but however it was too late for E to go this summer.

I went to the website* and discovered that although they are full for this summer, they have a few slots left for Aboriginal girls.

My husband is Aboriginal. He's a Quinault and has Status, at least in the US (although not in Canada, as apparently when you cross the line that some white guy drew in the sand at the 49th parallel, you lose your cultural heritage, but I digress, and clearly have no issues with this. Shut up). E isn't status but she identifies as partially Aboriginal.

I emailed them, they emailed me, the committee discussed it and ...

I got the news yesterday that she would qualify for a spot. We may also qualify for funding although that's a small thing as we all know I'll be rolling in filthy lucre after Sock Summit.

Best birthday present ever.

Sadly, she has chosen to be a percussionist**, but at least she didn't choose the banjo. There are, indeed, small mercies.

* if you happen to have a few dollars spare, the Rock Camp for Girls is a worthy cause. Read the website, read what Lala has to say about it. This post is 900 years long and I'm running out of steam; but I think that any organization whose sole goal is to create a safe and empowering environment for our children is one worth getting behind. There is quite possibly a Rock Camp for Girls in your town, and if not, then there's one close to you -- or what the heck, go mad, contact them, and start up one of your own!

** E's grandfather is a drummer. His pipe band won the world championships in 1956. She comes by it honestly.

From your South African stalker(fan?) I am so glad you're back posting again. I really really really missed you. Checking your blog daily and finding no new entry was very very sad. All the best with the party and Sock Summit. May you make pots and pots of money after Sock Summit. Alida
Happiest Birtdayest Wishes to E!
I was hoping to make it to the Sock Summit to meet a bunch of people I only know on line - including you (and to see/buy your yarn in person). But alas, I not only didn't score enough birthday $$, I am now jobless so the Summit is definitely out. Damn. But I hope you make giant piles of money there, even if it's not off of me.

Happy birthday to her magesty!
Oh WOW the Rock Camp sounds so cool! I'm jealous! Hope she has a great time, and Happy Birthday Miss Kid!
Lovely glimpses into your hectic life and also the life of HSH. Your story of the woman who lost $500 made me cringe: Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt. BTW, I turned 70 last month. Only the good die young, yaknow.

Happy Birthday, E, HSH! Camp sounds like it'll be a blast.
Happy Happy to you too, Rabbitch, and I'm glad you're back!
Happy Birthday, E! Give her a squidge from "Aunty" Adrienne. :)
No contribution from me, sorry to say, as I'm among the ranks of the great "laid off" here in the South (the part that doesn't use "u"s enough). I cannot tell you how pleasantly surprised I was to see you in my reader again today -- almost caused an accident in the chair, you know?
happy birthday to E!

and glad to see you back and that the FSM is putting the pieces in place for your to have a normal life (whatever that is for you).

I will be checking out your yarn website again. always wanted me some canadian yarn...
Happy Birthday to E! May she have so much fun and pizza she vomits in the backyard, passes out under the deck and vows never to do this again. Okay, maybe not quite that much fun, but loads anyway.
How very cool. Love the memories you are making for E
good to cya, rabbitch, and happy natal anniversary to the mighty munchkin.

congrats on dropping the weasel-sucking job; i got to quit working for weasels last winter and it feels very, very good!

sadly, i didn't even try to go to sock summit, cuz hippie son abruptly left portland, costing me my invite to hang at the crash pad (5-6 20somethings and one 60something? what's not to love?).

wishing you great times and even better sales at the summit.
Speaking of the mother of percussionists (my oldest even had a rock band-shudder-) you may want to invest in a very good pair of noise dampening headphones with the filthy lucre from Sock Summit. (And I have a 10 pc Tama kit, extra tambourines and a couple of African tribal drums in my basement that I may be able to sneak out if you help distract my kids. I'm sure HSH would love them!)
It's wonderful to have the whole you blogging again!

Happy Happy Birthday to E! She sounds absolutely amazing. As is her mother.


p.s. i know i owe you a FB response, but that site is overwhelming me these days. All is fine and dandy tho, so no worries.
Hooray another Rabbitch post! Happy Birthday to her Surreal Highness. Can I add another pondering to your list? Low odour paint was a bad idea, nasty smelly paint = cats avoiding painted bits like windowsills, low odour? white cat prints all round the house, a new white patch on a black cat, a certain grumpiness from cat and owner ;)
Sounds like E had one heckuva birthday! I should point out that banjo's really not that bad; many people who have lived through it claim that violin, drums and bagpipes are the worst. I raised guitarists and trombone players, and I have decided that anything that can be amplified should probably be turned down. I was lucky; practice helped in this house and we turned out a professional musician (who lives elsewhere- thak goodness).

Any kind of music will enrich E's life (and yours, if you keep an open mind.)
Hey! I just got Steve Martin's new banjo CD The Crow and I'm liking it very much!
So glad to see you posting again. I missed you. I will look for you at the Sock Summit. I'd like to meet you in person.
Just found your blog and am going thru your archive. You are darn hilarious, I'm choking/snorting my tea. Thanks for the nasal cleansing!
Wow -- a plethora of (well-deserved) good things! Happy birthday to HRH :) The rock camp sounds absolutely fabulous. One in California you say? hmmm.... (BTW, good call on the biscotti)
Happy (belated) Birthday to HSH!! Glad it was so well-celebrated, and that you got some time at the shore in too. Good luck at Sock Summit!!
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?