It’s Time To Say Goodbye (Ode to a Towel)

About 20 years ago, my high school friend went to Disney World with her family. She bought me a towel. Not just any towel, but a Little Mermaid towel.

The Little Mermaid is one of my all-time favourite Disney movies. When I purchased the VHS tape when I was 16, my friend best friend over at Moments of Clarity and I watched it daily, often while eating these delicious, pure fat, chocolate chip bars we made in the microwave.

I could recite The Little Mermaid word by word – although my niece would tell you I am doing it wrong.

I was estatic to receive this towel in the ’90s. For the first many years, I didn’t use it. Instead I attached it to the ceiling in my room so I slept under Ariel and crew nightly.

Once I went to college, I began using the towel, which has accompanied me on more moves then I have fingers for.

Fast forward to the 2000s and my beautiful Little Mermaid towel has dried its last body.

I have realized the end of its life was coming for some time. But when I used it last week, I realized it was time to let it go. No longer bright and fluffy, it’s now faded, almost see-through and holey.

Thank you, Barb, for my beautiful towel. Towel, you’re still my favourite, but it’s time to say goodbye.








On a happier note, last weekend my boys wore matching sweatpants and slippers (requested by our guy) and went for walk and picked flowers. It was lovely Sunday morning.

This Blog Posting Changed Three Times Today (And Still Changing)

I was originally going to blog about a certain towel but I forgot to take a picture so it so changed direction.

As I sat by the computer, starring blankly at the screen, I decided to tell you about the book I am reading – The Host by Stephenie Meyer.

As I haven’t finished reading the book, and I really don’t know much about it, I logged onto Meyer’s official website to see if I could find some information to share.

Instead I was dragged into Meyer’s world and didn’t resurface for some time.
Let’s just say, wow. You could spend hours reading that site; there is so much information and so many extras.

While I wouldn’t consider myself an author, I do think of myself as a writer. As a writer, I am in awe of authors and the skill and dedication they have. And Stephenie Meyer is no exception.

What impresses me most about authors is the act of writing. I paid attention in English. I have written my share of stories. I even attempted to get one published. But I never understood – or could do – the details.

In class we were always taught that everything was planned. True authors, we were told, sketch out their books so the plot and the details are exposed before the writing begins.

Christine Lee posted a letter by Alan Rickman to JK Rowling about Severus Snape, his Harry Potter character.

Paraphrasing Rickman, he mentioned it didn’t seem so long ago that Rowling told him there was more to Snape than an unchanging costume. I found that fascinating.

Obviously, Rowling knew from the moment she put pen to paper the end result of her series and all those moments from Book 1 was planned out before she got to Book 7.

And Meyer is the same way. Thank you, Meyer, for letting me get into your brain to see how a real author works.

Poor Thing

Cosmo, the cat, was looking quite intently in the backyard this morning. I opened the curtains, thinking he was interested in catching a shadfly or two, when I realized he had his eye on something much bigger – a deer.

While there is a forest about 10 minutes down the street, I am far enough away that deer usually don’t make a foray into our yard (except once before).

I locked Cosmo in the bathroom and opened the patio door. I tried to talk in a calm manner to the scared creature while also taking its picture. It was only after I attempted to take video that I realized it was hurt badly.

I woke up my husband and suggested we call someone but he said realistically by the time anyone got here, the deer would be long gone. Instead, I opened the side door and the deer found its way out.

My pictures and video are awful – too dark out and too far away but here they are any way.

Happy Monday

It was a glorious weekend.
I hope yours was, too.









I hosted a tea party last weekend. The bugs and rain couldn't keep the fun at bay.

Even My Two Year Old Doesn’t Think I am Funny

The other day on our way home, I was telling my son a story, which ended with ‘wasn’t that funny.’

He looked at me and screamed, “Mommy, I am not laughing with you.”
Oh.

And then he said it again: “Mommy, I am not laughing with you.”

Are you laughing at me? I asked him.

“Mommy, I am not laughing at you.”

Well that is a relief.

Other funny things this week:

• When my son was yelling about something else, I told him not to scream at me. The next time he was yelling, he told me “Mommy, I am not yelling at you.” He was yelling at the iPod, apparently for not working right.

• His new thing is to tell me what to say so he can respond the way he wants. So he tells me, “Mommy, say, ‘Spiders are yucky, E’.” So I say it. Then he responds with “No, spiders good. They eat squitoes.”
It’s nice to know that while my son doesn’t think I am funny, he is at least listening to me.

• “Mommy, you ran over my foot.” Yes, I did run over my son’s foot with his own high chair, why do you ask? I felt so badly particularly since he looked like he wanted to cry but was trying to be brave.

• “Mommy, what did you call me?” I had called him Baby. “I am not baby. I am big boy.” True. How sad.

• “Mommy, you can’t have bubble gum, you’re big. I’m little. I like bubble gum.”

• I had the flu this week and my little one was a good nurse. He was eating porridge and he said to me “Mommy, you eat breakfast to make your tummy feel better.” I passed. Later, he insisted raw mushrooms, gross at any time, would make me feel better. “Choo, choo, Mommy. Eat it. It will make tummy feel better. Eat it. Eat it.” He didn’t believe me when I pretended to take a bite. I can’t fool this little guy.

I Hate…

Money. I hate the necessity of those bills and coins. I hate that I making the same money, but everything – gas, groceries, insurance, food – is going up.

If it weren’t for flushing toilets, communication devices and religion, I would become a Mennonite and live off the land.

Pee, Pee, Everywhere Pee

We started potty training our guy Sunday. We bought Kushies training pants, the reusable variety of Pull-ups.

Past readers of this blog knows my guy drinks a lot so therefore he pees a lot, too. For us, this means we spent a lot of time asking and taking him to the potty. For the record, he goes each time he sits down.

So far he hasn’t had any accidents but that may be because I take him every 15 minutes or so and I can only assume the daycare provider does so as well.

The daycare provider must have one of those freestanding potties. Prior to real potty training, my guy would prefer (thankfully) to go on the one that fits on our toilet.

But since Sunday, he requests the freestanding variety.

After he finishes peeing, he loves to empty the contents into the big toilet and flush.

Before heading off to the library yesterday afternoon, I asked my guy if he had to go. He said no, so I suggested we go together – E on the freestanding potty and me on the normal one. He finished first.

I think you know where this is heading because I saw it coming but didn’t react fast enough.

My guy stood up, grabbed the potty and dumped the contents all over me. I was covered in pee – a lot of pee.

‘Sorry, Mommy,’ he told me. ‘I clean you.’ And he did. He took toilet paper and wiped it off my wet jeans. I cleaned up the rest and changed before we went out.

It’s Book Season

There is something about the lazy, hazy days of summer and the desire to sit outside and read.

I don’t read nearly as much as I used to, but I still love books and losing myself in them.

My stepdaughter has been kind and has lent me several books she brought home from her recent visit with her mom.

I re-read the Twilight series as well as novella from the series called The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner. The Eclipse short story was a good one, although it hard to read because you knew what fate laid in store for Bree, who seemed like a good person who had a tough life.

I am currently reading A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray.

When looking up the author, I read this is actually the first book in a trilogy. I am enjoying it. It’s a quick and easy read although I have to keep skepticism at bay.

Yes, I can believe in fairies and dragons, wizards and vampires but I have a hard time with realms and the magic found within them.

I also have a Mary Higgins Clark, a John Grisham and various other not-popular fiction books sitting on my shelf. I also recommend Anita Shreve.

Her books, to me, scream out summer reading.

Summer is Here

Officially summer doesn’t arrive until June 21 but unofficially it’s here.

I am finally warm. I can go outside and feel the heat of the sun seeping through my skin and right into my bones. I feel completely relaxed, flittering from one activity to another – going high on the swings, flipping over on the monkey bars, watching my son play in his new mini pool, going for a walk and throwing stones in the lake.

We are eating watermelon and spraying bugs with the hose. We are planting our vegetable garden and hanging clothes on the line. We are watching robins build nests and orioles and hummingbirds emptying our feeders.

I am counting down the days until summer driving season and weekends full of fun plans.

Welcome warm weather.

Happiness Is

It's Friday, which means two days happiness.


My husband, the guy on the left, made this playset (and the shed) for our guy. We still need a slide and various other rope devices. The sandbox is on the deck. We love it.


Now that there is heat, there are also water fights with big sister A.



After a water fight, there is a hose shower.


And if it rains on Saturday, there is always rubber boots and umbrellas and no pants.


E received this old Tonka jeep (complete with spare tire and a gas tank) at someone's garage sale.


My garden is the best in the spring. I have no idea what these pretty flowers are. I have no idea why this sentence is hyperlinked.


After five years of growing, our apple tree finally has blossoms. Hee, hee. I just realized I flipped this picture the wrong way. Notice the tree in the background.


Lilacs are my favourite. My husband cut these for me to put in my car on the drive to my parents'.


My guy is getting a hang of his balance bike.



Helping Daddy wash his Harley.


Riding a skateboard.


'Sleeping' on the wagon with my niece.

I hope you have a weekend filed with happiness.

He IS a Killer

It turns out that Cosmo the kitty really is a killer, and I can’t be more excited.

I mentioned in this blog before that Cosmo was able to hunt and catch the mice in our house, but he seemed to be the type of cat who liked to torment and play with his finds rather than just killing them.

But this morning I went to the bathroom and there was a mouse – dead – on the floor beside the toilet.

I am lucky I didn’t step on it.

I am also lucky Cosmo didn’t decide to drop the dead mouse on me while I was a sleeping.

Way to go, killer.