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Dads of Boys Age 6-13: Your Time Has Come

March 25, 2020 Heather 1 Comment

Why Mom needs to stand down, and you need to stand up

When our son Isaac was two years old, we realized Brock’s kidney cancer was terminal, and that I would eventually be a solo parent.

As is my habit, I turned to books to help me process this curveball.

In the many “parenting boys” books I skimmed in the subsequent years, the chapters on single parenthood (and single motherhood in particular) resonated with me. The authors concurred that positive male role models were critical for boys, and yet: “Be wary of men,” these books sometimes warned. “The fatherless son and single mother are vulnerable to predators.” Scary stuff.

Steve Biddulph’s classic, Raising Boys, helpfully outlined the stages of a boy’s development:

Birth to age 6: it’s all about Mom. This is a boy’s first, foundation-laying relationship. Keywords: nurturing, security, love, trust.
Age 6 to 13: the boy realizes he’s different from Mom. Specifically, he has a penis. So he looks around for other males, and discovers Dad. He wants to spend more time with Dad. He observes how Dad behaves in the world, and Dad becomes the boy’s primary role model.
Age 14: the boy craves independence and starts distancing himself from both Mom and Dad. He looks around for new male mentors. If the parents haven’t lined up positive role models (coaches, teachers, relatives), the boy finds his own: often peers, which might lead him into trouble, or those adult predators we’ve already been warned about.

In some cultures, the men and fathers of a village take the boy-children from the mothers at age six and bring them into the wilderness for long months, to teach them how to be men. Survival skills, endurance, male bonding, whatnot. A rite of passage. When the boys return to the village, the apron strings have been severed and they are on their way to manhood.

I read all of this, and wondered how I’d fare raising a boy without my husband.

*Even at 20 months old, Isaac wanted to be like his Dad.*

And now, here we are.

Solo Mom to a six-year-old

My son became increasingly difficult around his sixth birthday. I’m not a clingy mom, yet he was pushing away from me. I remembered the books I’d read, and tried not to take Isaac’s new, antagonistic attitude personally: he wanted his Dad.

However, Brock had died two years earlier. We’d have to skip the “Dad” stage, and head into the “other male role models” stage.

I sent out an S.O.S. email to my male relatives. I asked if they could please swing by and take Isaac along on their errands: trips to the dump, snow shovelling, hardware store forays. Show him how men behave in the world. Have manly heart-to-hearts in the truck about why he shouldn’t be rude to his mother.

I signed Isaac up for judo (with male senseis) and piano (a male teacher), and sought out older boys who could be positive role models. He started spending more time with his teenage cousin. Tuesday evenings became “boys’ night,” spent with my boyfriend and his pre-teen sons.

Why is this man-time so important? Here’s my theory:

Dads introduce the grit

Dads, grandpas and other (good) men are ESSENTIAL in the lives of young boys, because men naturally introduce small doses of conflict.

This includes physical conflict, like wrestling and sports, but also emotional, interpersonal and intellectual conflict. Boys learn how to respond to conflict, problem-solve, and manage their emotions by practicing with these safe male mentors. These small doses of grit make our boys resilient as they grow into men.

How do men do this?

Dads tease

On a very simple, daily level, men speak differently to children. Here’s a conversation I heard between a grandpa and a six-year-old boy at the skating arena earlier this week:

GRANDPA: Did you remember to bring your skates?

BOY: Um, no. [Stands shocked for a minute, wondering what to do next.]

GRANDPA: Good thing I did.

These little moments of friction toughen up our kids, in a good way. “Teased” boys start to realize that obstacles and challenges are a part of life. They will encounter and have to interact with challenging people, not just their coddling caregivers: they get to start practicing how to manage themselves in these situations.

Dads chip away at the selfishness

An hour later, after skating, I squatted awkwardly, balanced on my skate blades, helping my son get his own off. To my left, I heard the boy ask his grandpa for help with his skates.

GRANDPA: Sure thing, once I have my own off.

Many Moms are self-annointed martyrs: our impulse is to make our children’s lives easier, sometimes at the expense of our own. There’s a reason the airplane crew tells us to put our own oxygen mask on, in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, before helping the kid beside you: they know that goes against our instinct.

If moms like me are the only ones raising our boys, these children will get used to being put first. They will become entitled, spoiled, narcissistic princes, with silky innards that can’t handle the smallest of life’s gritty challenges.

Mom’s new mantra: “I am wallpaper.”

The hardest part for me, as I enable my son’s reaching out into the world of men, has been to stop micro-managing:

Isaac heads out the door for an adventure with his grandpa, and I want to stuff his coat pockets with granola bars.

He mumbles something funny to his distracted piano teacher, who ignores him, and I want to repeat the joke on his behalf.

He goes to the lake with my boyfriend, to smash the ice with rocks, and I want to deliver the second, dry set of gloves they left behind.

But I resist (usually). Yes, life is easier when you have snacks and dry gloves on-hand. But they’ll be fine without. Or, Isaac will learn to pack his own supplies, next time.

My boyfriend took Isaac skiing, and Isaac braved the chairlift for the first time.

Mom: give them space

I once read a parable about a Dad taking his young daughter to a kid’s birthday party, from the perspective of the Mom: he didn’t put the special birthday barrettes in his daughter’s hair, or even brush it. She wore her normal play clothes, instead of a frilly dress. The present was wrapped in a newspaper. Mom found out these “mistakes” later, after her daughter came home glowing from a super-fun party. The Mom’s resulting epiphany: those little mom-touches aren’t critical.

It’s hard to be wallpaper, to stand down, to not enable. And it can be hard not to criticize when Dad forgets to pack the mittens when he takes your son ice fishing in January.

But let’s not criticize. Let’s resist the urge to interfere. Let Dad (or whatever trusted man took your son out for an adventure) build his own relationship with your kid. Let him figure out his own parenting style. Allow him to make his own mistakes, just as we Moms have.

Our sons won’t always have us there: this second, next relationship — with his dad or another male mentor — is an important first step toward independence.

Let’s become SuperMoms

Instead of judging Dad’s efforts or trying to “help” him, let’s stand back and watch: we can learn from Dad and these other men. Watch how he introduces small conflicts and challenges. Watch your son as he learns to problem-solve, to navigate the relationship, and become more self-sufficient.

I’ve been practicing man-style, “gritty” parenting, because as a solo parent I am both Mom and Dad. It goes against my nature and requires conscious effort. When we play board games or soccer, I don’t let him win. Sometimes I’ll steal popcorn from his bowl, even after he tells me to stop. I tell him to pack what he needs for swim club, instead of doing it myself.

True, I’m not enough for my son anymore, but I will always be his nest. My son loves to aim his butt at me when he farts, but he still needs a cuddle after school.

A final note to Dad:

I didn’t get to watch my husband go through the parenting journey, but I’m going to assume some things about your own.

Your son was born. Maybe you fantasized about sharing your hobbies with him: sports, electronics, books, whatever. Maybe you were excited to teach him the life lessons you’ve learned.

But he was still a baby. All he wanted was Mom. So you hung back and did what you could: you worked to pay bills, told your tired wife she looked pretty, changed diapers.

Now, six-ish years later, maybe she’s frustrated and confused: this son of yours is acting out. He’s rude. He’s entitled. He wants to play rough. She doesn’t know what to do. She loses her temper more often.

Dad: this is your wake-up call. It’s your call to arms. It’s your turn. When you leave the house, start taking him with you. At home, invite him into your man-cave. Cook dinner together. Build or repair something. Walk the dog.

Maybe she’ll be relieved when you start spending more time with him. She might try to micro-manage, or tell you that you don’t understand your kid as well as she does. Maybe she’ll criticize you when you forget the mittens.

Take a breath, shrug it off, and tell her (nicely) that you’re back in the game. It’s time to share the parenting. Because your son needs you now.

(Published on Medium.com on March 14, 2020.)

I’d love to hear your thoughts: share your own parenting experience or post a comment. Please help get this message out to more moms and dads by sharing this post.

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Little Spitfire

September 2005

September 1, 2005 Heather Leave a comment

Moving Day!!!! – September 1/05 – 8 am

Q is moving into his new home today, and I have taken the day off to SLEEP, NOT read the news, and help out by comforting Celeste. Also, it’s sunny which is much better than rain on a moving day.

Hooking Heather Up
A variety of “opportunities” have arisen whereby friends and acquaintances are matchmaking for me. I have a 36 year old tall man and a 23 year old academic in my future . . . and I have a new neighbour, as of last night, who is my age, but I think he’s short. For those who don’t know, I have a standing reward for anyone who finds me a good one — a $100 gift certificate for Bravo’s restaurant, the best food in Victoria. So go forth and add to my Potential Booty List!

How Many Bunny Rabbits is Too Many? – Friday, Sept. 2/05
Mom & Dad have decided to focus their parental energies on my excessive rabbit population. And to an extent I agree: Seamus and Caramel would be much happier and healthier as house rabbits. BUT it’s difficult to find a home that would give them the freedom and attention that would compensate them for losing their porch haven. Also, Caramel is not littertrained and would require an attentive and forgiving bunny parent.

Just Sos Ya Know, Normal Rabbits Endure the Following:

Too-small cages that don’t allow them to jump around, run, tunnel, and exercise properly. If a bunny lives in a cage, they require a minimum of three hours cage-free exercise a day. That’s a lot of supervision.
Cages with metal mesh on the bottom, which hurt their feet, and pine shavings (sold by most pet stores as “rabbit” cage shavings), which give them liver & other internal organ problems.
A lack of attention. And yes, I do forget about my baby bunnies occasionally, but I check on them at least twice a day (due to their feeding schedule).

Mom’s arguments tend to focus on the porch as wasted space, rabbit-stink, and bunnies as mobility-limiting factors. Once a strong person wanders into my house, I intend to recruit their assistance and get that piss-stained futon couch off my porch. I want to replace it with plastic chairs and a table, and then I can easily clean any mess, and sit and drink tea with the bunnies. It’s shady out there even on the sunniest day, which is ideal for rabbits but not for me . . . the only reason I’d go out there would be to bond with S&C.

As for the rabbit-stink, that’s due to Peter and his litter box, and there’s nothing I can do about that except keep him/it clean, open the doors, and burn some incense. Peter’s worth a little stink.

Goddamn Hootchie Neighbours
The house-owner’s daughter had a party last night. She’s normally very lovely, but a drunken Thursday night screamfest has upset my opinion of her. At 10:30pm I went over, trying to look as harried as possible, and told them I had to work at 6:30am and could they please shut up. I’ve learned, however, that drunken assurances mean shit, and therefore they continued until late. I fell asleep at 11pm or so, but my Dad (who is visiting as of yesterday) was awake when someone authoritative starting yelling and closed down the party. Poor Dad! On a boat for two weeks, and his first land-sleep is distrupted by a bunch of hootchies.

Dad, Visiting
Dad called from Sidney yesterday, where he moored his 22-foot Catalina sailboat (aka a floating Volkwagen). He helped the Q move and bought us Chinese food for dinner, and chatted up the movers and told funny stories about currents and a stick-figure Jesus on Thetis Island. I love my Dad.

Yep
This is a random and scattered little entry today . . . But I’ve been random and scattered lately. Hopefully these notes encompass most of the “significant” stuff from the past 25 hours.

Other stuff includes:

email from Vitto saying “saw you at Syn, hi there”;
have managed to cut Shawn from my life for a week now, with no significant sense of loss (I have no time for inconsiderate poohs);
bought 4 shirts on Wednesday and they made me feel happy, so am tempted to buy into the whole “retail therapy” lifestyle
I think Justin has moved to Seattle by now — I’ll have to catch up with Jessie today;
my sister is 1cm dilated (???) and the baby has “dropped” (????) and I could be an aunty ANY DAY NOW.

Dad Returns to the Sea – Sunday, Sept.4/05 – 8:50 am
Dad left for Sidney and his boat, Rorinante, this morning. We had a good visit — lots of intense conversations and the usual. Dad tends to parent like today’s the last day to parent, so he shares all the wisdom and stories he can think of. I love it. It’s exactly the oppositive of those superficial “How are you? Fine” conversations that most people seem to want to have.

Joel Kroeker
We went to see Joel Kroeker play at Logan’s last night. If there is a god, and if god has a voice, he sounds like Joel Kroeker. I LOVE JOEL KROEKER. This was the first time I’ve seen him play with his full band, though, and it was a lot of sound. What’s with bands? They must all be deaf because they turn their bass/guitar/etc volumes up way too loud, the drummer doesn’t bother to muffle his bass, and then I can’t hear a fricking word of the song. Joel’s voice was audible, though, so at least Dad got to hear how good he is. The first singer was Harmony Trow-something — she has an unusual voice so I bought her cd to give it a proper listen when I do dishes today.

“Ramping Up” to Fall Drama
(See how I slipped in that gov’t phrase? Oh, yes. I’m learning.) My neighbour Tim is a hottie. He’s shorter than my usual preference, about 6-feet or something. But he will be a pleasant friend at the very least. He had bunnies once. And it’s so easy to approach neighbours — there are infinite excuses for visits.

Also, my as-yet-unmet-but-recommended-by-friend 36 year old man John called me Friday night and left a message. Hopefully I’ll be able to meet him this week. He sounds like fun.

AND, just so things don’t get too inconsistent, Q and my friend Regan invited us to her Birthday on the 16th. Regan is the older sister of my RockStar, Ryan. While the whole thing feels awkward and unnecessary, it might lead to some interesting stories.

To Be Continued
I will add more later this weekend, but Seven Years in Tibet just started on TV.

SuperHeather – Monday, Sept. 5/05 – 9:10 pm
I’m trying a new strategy whereby I figure out what pisses me off, then I fix it. Today I bought one of those shoe holders that hang on one side of a door, and so all my smelly shoes are stuck into the pockets and they won’t get all scuffed and grimy and stink up my closet anymore. Also, I managed to disassemble my futon frame tonight: a square-headed screwdriver and some pliers were needed, and my hammer. I felt very tooly. The frame is now in handy 3×4.5-foot chunks, and I can toss them off my porch and into the dumpsters tomorrow. Yay! I plan to get a sweet little plastic or metal patio set — one or two chairs and a wee table for my tea. Then I can snuggle with the bunnies all winter and watch the rain storms.

Updates re: Booty
I went upstairs to invite Neighbour Tim to breakfast/lunch today, but he wasn’t there (or didn’t answer my knock) so that was a failure. However, I did pass him while walking home from Christie’s pub — he was walking with a girl riding her bike. I should expect that he has a girlfriend, to avoid disappointment. Regardless, he smiled hugely at me and he’s clearly in love with me. Fun fun fun.

The 36 year old guy, John, called me — did I already mention this? Anyhoo, he left a message and I haven’t called him back yet. I’ve been bonding with Dad and watching plays and eating. Tomorrow I should send him an email or something.

And re: Mom’s hookup of a 23 year old smartie pants, I haven’t heard anything. So no exciting news there.

Christie’s Pub
The pub is only three blocks or so from Q’s new house. We went there for dinner tonight — Dean’s treat. Dean’s visiting Q from Ottawa before he jaunts off to Lebanon for his work with the foreign service. What a hottie. We walked Celeste on Dallas Road today and gawked at sweaty football players.

Also, I learned how to shampoo a carpet: Q had to clean his bedroom in the old apartment, so I read and interpreted the instructions while the boyz did the work. It’s actually not that tricky. I was inspired to borrow Q’s vacuum, and I might actually attempt to vacuum up all the dust bunnies in this place. Peter HATES the vacuum, though, so I’ll have to do it early in the day; otherwise, he’ll keep me awake all night with his stomping.

Peter Relearns Boundaries
He’s been leaving dainty poops in the area around his food & water dishes and litter box. This means he is claiming it as his territory. However, it is actually MY territory since I pay the rent and have to walk through the mess to get to my drawers, so I’ve moved all of his “survival” stuff* closer together to remind him that his space is limited.

*I specified “survival” stuff because Peter has quite a few personal possessions (“luxuries”) around the house: sticks under most of the furniture, a wicker basket, silk scarf and blankie under the drafting table, a ribbon tied to the desk to suck on, and then of course his de-construction site underneath the couch.

Laundry Hell – Tuesday, Sept. 6/05 – 9:00 pm
I intended to get all my clothes clean today but because Q’s new laundry washer and drier are the WORST LAUNDRY WASHER AND DRIER EVER, I’m only done 1 load. (Load one of two yellows, of SIX loads in total.)

Load #2 is in the middle of its second time around in the drier. Load #3 is stuck in the washer. Loads #4-6 are stagnating in the hall.

Ugh.

Meanwhile
Celeste wants to play with her tennis ball . . . she loves her new home!!!!!!

(Exciting Appointment Today – Wednesday, Sept. 7/05
Spencer’s cutting my hair today!!!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!!)

Short Hair & Clean Clothes – Wednesday, Sept. 7/05 – 10:14 pm
I feel like a SuperStar. Except that I have too many clothes and too few hangers, so I will have to invest in some sort of storage container for all my summer shite in order to make room for the sweaters.

Moment of Political Awareness (or not)
Spencer asked me what’s going on with the hurricane Katrina situation down in New Orleans. Since I read all the major newspapers every day I’m usually sort of “in the know” about current news, but when asked to paraphrase I realized that all I’ve really been doing is looking at the crazy, surreal pictures and reading the personal stories and tallying headlines that promote or discourage financial donations.

I wonder if it’s better to be “sort of in the know” about what’s happening, or totally oblivious. I felt a little guilty, not even knowing the exact death count so far. (I think it’s 1,000 but it might be 10,000 — or that might just be a headline I saw from another story . . .)

Also I feel guilty about my secret fetish for all things Apocalyptic. Natural disasters intrigue me, since I’ve never actually experienced one directly. I had to watch myself while talking to Spencer at the salon, to make sure I didn’t smile too much or seem too eager to talk about how terrible it all is — there were other people there, and I didn’t want to offend someone. On September 11 I was giddy and only realized how inappropriate my glee was once Q and I ran into Rachel, who had friends working in the towers.

But it’s true, I’ve always loved books where ALMOST everyone in the world dies, and then a few survive so they have to forage and fend and find some half-assed reason to continue. Ironic, considering that with my terrible eyesight I’d be DOOMED once my corrective eyewear was lost (like Piggy in Lord of the Flies . . .). And being a wee woman there’s rape and all kinds of terrible shit to think of. And my bunnies! They’d be screwed . . .

Everyone has guilty fantasies, though. I suppose mass death and anarchy are relatively mild . . .

Putting Away My Clothes – Thursday, Sept. 8/05 – 7:11 pm
The saddest part was when I realized that I own two identical pink tanktops and FOUR identical muscle shirts. Apparently my short-term memory problems are more serious than I’d thought.

Peter’s Birthday – Friday, Sept.9/05
I don’t know exactly when Peter’s birthday is, but I think I adopted him sometime in August/September . . .

Resolution is a Wonderful Thing – Saturday, Sept.10/05 – 11:31 am
Regan and Ryan (aka my RockStar) came to Victoria to visit their uncle Gordie, who is recuperating from an operation. Q and I met them for lunch, plus their gramma and dad, and it was exactly the scary experience I’d expected — I had no fucking clue what to say or do with Ryan, since I had no fucking clue what was going on, and whether he wanted anything from me other than WriterStyle advice & input. Regardless, I sorta survived that one, and then we went back to work.

After work I went home and slept for a few hours, until Old Man John (my 36 year old potential love-interest) called, and then I had a half-asleep conversation — I think we’re hooking up on Sunday or sometime this week — and then I got up and went downtown to meet Rowan and Regan and Q at the Sticky Wicket for some drinky drinks on the rooftop. (What’s with all these “r” names???)

And then we all taxied to Safeway and picked up bananas and booze (not in that order), and returned to Q’s to frolic with Celeste and Regan/Ryan’s old doggy, Maggie.

Ryan was keeping his gramma company at their hotel until she fell asleep, and then he came to Q’s at 11 and got me and we went for a really long walk ‘n’ talk, and now I feel 100% better.

The Walk ‘n’ Talk
Essentially, Ryan is not in love with me at this time, and that is okay with me because he said so. The uncertainty about everything was making me crazy, but now that loose tooth has fallen out so I can stop obsessing. We walked down to the beach at Dallas Road and grabbed some bonfire that had been abandoned and Ryan played with newspaper and driftwood and I threw rocks to make everything spark. (There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere . . . ) I don’t like the thought of anyone not being madly in love with me, but since I’m not so sure that Ryan can be in love with ANYONE right now (due to craziness, youth, self-obsession, whatever) I’m happy being one of the ones he tried to love.

I know it is entirely up to me whether I want to be friends/allies/confidantes now, and I think that I will be okay with that sort of relationship — that will have to be reevaluated if/when Ryan falls in love with someone, because then I’ll probably be jealous and pissed off. But for now, I love having this beautiful RockStar Writer man in my life. And now I’m emotionally free to fall in love with someone else (damn these monotasking limitations!) so I CAN have it all: love and sex and writerly companionship.

BitterScripts
Last night at some point I figured out the next part of my new play! Usually I jump up (or roll over) and write EVERYTHING DOWN ASAP because I know I’ll forget the idea(s). But I didn’t. And I still remember them, so hopefully the “spark” will still be there too when I write the new scenes and they will still have that MiddleOfTheNightMagic to them.

Today
R&R are visiting their uncle, and Regan wants to take the doggies for a walk, and Celeste is getting her hair cut this afternoon, and in theory we are having a Mortgages Are Fun housewarming BBQ at Q’s. I’m not entirely sure if that will happen – it’s really just an excuse to get together with some of the people Q&I haven’t seen lately.

Tonight Jessie and I are going to a Crazy Mad Singles’ Party to hook up with hootchie men. More on that tomorrow, I suppose 🙂

Old People Parties – Sunday, Sept.11/05 – 10:57 am
Jessie pointed out that old people (i.e. ages 30+) still like to get together and drink and have a party. When we’re old, we’ll probably do that too. But I won’t want angstful 20-somethings there!

In other words, Jessie & Justin & Jess (“J” names!!!!) and I went to Karen’s party last night, which was supposed to be a singles’ thing but which her man apparently thought was a housewarming, so he’d invited all his old couple friends & coworkers (employees, to be exact) and Karen had invited us. Regardless, it was a good night. Karen & her man Stacy (haha) have this beautiful, crazy-grown-up condo/townhouse/strata/whatever thing on her parent’s development property. It’s THREE STORIES, with a massive walk-in closet in the master bedroom, and a 2-person jacuzzi tub, and it’s just beautiful. I thought she was having a party while her parents were out of town, but no, it’s all hers. Craziness.

I found out when leaving that the old people couples were Stacy’s employees, and that they were all nervous because he was their boss (he’s the CEO at a consulting firm or something); with this in mind, I will say that I slapped his ass at one point, and that my new woman-friend Erica and I rearranged all his CDs and books in Random Acts of Terrorism. Stacy keeps his CDs arranged alphabetically (and there are probably 2,000 of them), and his books are arranged in colour. (Yes, colour. How ridiculous is that????) I assume we’ll be the first on his invite list in the future 🙂

Final R&R Weekend Update
I walked up to Q’s Saturday morning because I was done drinking tea and bored of waiting for him to get ready. Lucky thing too, because I got there about 5 minutes before Regan & Ryan & Maggie left for the ferry, ahead of schedule. Over the summer I’ve accumulated about 4 books (and the second trilogy of the Griffin & Sabine series) for Ryan. I finally got to give them to him, so now there’s that much less clutter in my house, and I won’t have to mail them or anything.

Books include:
Unless, by Carol Shields, because it’s brilliant and Sara Cassidy (her daughter) is producing a play version in late October that I want to see.

Nine Knives (or is it 15??) by Mark Jarman, because he’s a modern-day Kerouac and also the editor of one of the lit magazines I suggested to Ryan — The Fiddlehead.

Generation X, by Douglas Coupland, which I think sucks but it’s a staple of any “generational identity” literary collection, along with Kerouac, etc.

The Griffin & Sabine Morning Star Trilogy, because it’s the perfect example of art+story. Luckily, Ryan has the first three.

Next weekend is Regan’s birthday, and Q&I are going to Richmond to celebrate. I’m no longer dreading it. Yay!

Today’s Forecast
J&J&J invited me for breakfast this morning, but I want to have some time to drink tea & contemplate Peter & maybe write my new scene(s). Q has a spa day today — it started 15 minutes ago, actually. It’s my birthday gift to him, which he’s been saving for after his move. Includes: spa bath, 1 hour massage, facial, pedicure, lunch . . .

Also I managed to cut the nails on Peter’s front left hoof this morning. He hated it. And I got bunny hair all over my shirt.

Welcome Back, Kotter – Monday, Sept.12/05 – 8:55 pm
Back in highschool I LOVED this show. And yesterday I saw some ad on tv that the series was going to be run again, and today I was so excited that I actually tried to find the time & channel online. No luck. And THEN I flipped through some channels tonight after dinner, and whadyaknow, there it was, about to start, the pilot episode.

Fate.

Let’s Talk About Love
I’m starting to suspect that my definition of “love” is different from some of YOUR definitions. So let’s be clear.

“Love” for me is a whole spectrum of stuff. I love Johnny Depp because he is brave enough to be an actor instead of a celebrity in his movies (unlike Leonardo DiCaprio, for example, who is always Leonardo DiCaprio). I love Joel Kroeker because he shines light out through his crazy beautiful voice. I love my RockStar because of his aesthetics (art, music, writing). I love Levi MacDougall because of how he sees the world. I love Ani DiFranco because she thinks everything’s screwed up and also she knows that she’s not the answer to that problem. I love Good People, by which I mean people who have good hearts, who want to create beautiful things, who will never intentionally be cruel or hurtful (although sometimes these people have the urge to hurt or be cruel, just like most poeple, and they are often so overcome with guilt that they feel like they have to atone for what they haven’t done).

Sometimes I “love” someone because I am so attracted to their Good Personness and Light and Beautiful Created Things. And sometimes I want to be veryveryveryclose to them, have sex with them, or just hug them so that I can have some of that beautiful energy too. (And give them some of mine.)

I suspect that when I say I “love” someone, some of you interpret that in other ways. And this has fucked up a lot of possibilities. Because for other people “love” means something very fixed and restrictive, or something else unpleasant.

Anyhoo, I’m going to try and be more careful about using that verb. Which I (ever righteous) think is sad, because why shouldn’t “love” be a daily explanation for our relationships?

Also, I Hit On a Crazy Man
Ohmigod. I was in the sunshine on Starbucks’ patio yesterday, revising my scripts for my MFA application, killing time between brunch with Jessie & co. and sushi with Liv (why does our bonding always revolve around food????) and there was this BEAUTIFUL sexy hottie at a table. He was really tall. 6’4″, maybe. Yum. And when he went into Starbucks to get his coffee I went over to the other guys sitting there and asked if I could sit with them and listen to their mantalk, and they invited me, and so I sat down and talked for an hour or so with these 2 guys from Oregon and the Hottie, who just moved to Victoria from Saskatchewan. I thought I’d won the goddamn lottery — beautiful tall man, right off the boat . . . (or the TransCanada).

And this guy was promising. He’s an artist — he paints stuff. And very smiley, and talkative, and funny, and smart (aka huge vocabulary). So I almost fell in love (see above), but then he went crazy. Specifically, he spontaneously composed and recited a poem to a birdy, and then kept interupting my Oregon conversations to talk about how he was the subject of an intervention, and how he was institutionalised, and then I lent him my notebook because he wanted to write me a poem and ALLOFASUDDEN he started reading this poem to us while we were talking. Clearly a youngest child, clearly a total nutter.

And yes, I confess that I was internally measuring how willing I’d be to ignore his BLATANT SOCIOPATHIC TENDENCIES since he was so fricking pretty. But eventually I left. So you can all relax.

Exhausted & Infectious – Tuesday, Sept.13/05 – 9:25 pm
Now that the legislature is back in session I’m working from 6am to 2pm, Monday to Friday. This isn’t a huge difference in work hours, but I’ve been tired lately regardless. I get home, and I have a hot shower, and I fall asleep. Hopefully my body will eventually adjust and I’ll be able to be productive outside of the office.

Also, my right eye is all pink & weird, and so I went to the optometrist today and he said it’s the beginning of an eye infection, due to wearing my contacts too much. I’ve had contact lenses since I was 8 (really) and apparently this newfound intolerance is due to me getting older. So I’m going to wear my glasses to work more often, and I have some potent eye drops to use for now.

My MFA Application
I haven’t been too worried about the cover letter, the resume, or the stage play sections, but I can’t remember most of my fiction from UVic. I browsed through my portfolios today from all five years of English Lit & creative writing projects, and there are a few good stories that I think are not only worth submitting, but also worth revising at some point. I love reading something, thinking “wow, this is really good,” and half-knowing that I’m the one that wrote it. Hehe.

Anyone Want a Rabbit-Piss-Stained Futon?
The garbage people won’t take it, and I’d rather not pay the junk guy to remove it. I’m considering borrowing one of the grocery carts that are scattered around town and trucking it to the closest dumpster. It will be SO lovely to have it gone . . .

Branding – Thursday, Sept.15/05
Okay, so: back in the day (aka “old school” style) businesses advertised their services/products, and were known as such. For example, the hardward store sold hardware and was known as the hardware store. The grocery store sold groceries. This is still true for some businesses — including those in smaller towns that have so far resisted “big box” stores and the usual franchises (e.g. McDonalds).

But NOW businesses are starting to develop themselves as brands. For example: Starbucks is Starbucks. Technically, they started selling coffee, but it’s not ridiculous for them to also develop and sell, say, board games (Cranium!!) because those products are part of the Starbucks brand, or lifestyle, or . . . State of Being. Ditto “the grocery store”: they opened florist areas, and bakeries, and a deli, and a fish market, and had a space for the Bank of Montreal, and you could essentially do all the errands you had to in that one huge space. Now there are even Starbucks inside urban Safeways. Ditto for Chapters. I mean, what EXACTLY does Walmart sell? It doesn’t have a specific product. It’s a LIFESTYLE, a STATE OF BEING: you go to Walmart. You don’t go to Walmart to get a specific item, like you go to the old-school hardware stores to get a 2×4.

Anyways, that’s what I realized this morning. I probably could have had the epiphany years earlier if I’d taken an single economics or business course at UVic. Maybe that’s the whole point of universities: to present a student with prepackaged Epiphanies For Dummies so we don’t have to figure them out for ourselves. Interesting implications . . .

In Other News: I Am Amazing
Dad helped me get my rabbit-piss-steeped futon mattress off of the balcony and out to the trash, but the garbage people refused to take it away. Bastards. So I was almost resigned to calling a private hauler and paying $40, but THEN while walking home yesterday I realized that there are DUMPSTERS everywhere (aha!) and that if I could get the futon to one of those dumpsters then all would be well. However, Q refused to let the disgusting mattress into his car, and I couldn’t find a handy shopping cart on my walk home, so I convinced the Q to put the mattress on top of the VW and then we could slowly transport it to the closest dumpster.

Quinn has no sense of sneakiness, though, because he refused to turn his headlights off when we were behind the targetted apartment building, AND he even had the radio on pretty loudly. Regardless of his OBVIOUSNESS, we managed to ditch the stinky beast in a dumpster, and sped off without anyone chasing us. If they managed to get his license number, I refuse to accept any responsibility.

And THEN Q went home to watch the finale of Canadian Idol, and I carried the three major sections of the futon couch/bed frame to two different dumpsters — the first one wasn’t big enough and it stuck out so I avoided that for the next two sections.

Oh, and did I mention that I am AMAZING??? My balcony/porch/whatever is now empty except for Seamus & Caramel’s two-storey cage, some milkcrates for their amusement, and two black metal chairs. No straw, no hay, and no pissy futon.

Going to Van Fer a Party – Friday, Sept.16/05
It’s Regan’s birthday sometime around now — maybe even today!!!!!! So Q and Celeste and I are catching the 5pm ferry and spending some quality time in Richmond this weekend. Peter will be upset. He’s been extremely affectionate lately and I think he desperately needs a snuggle and nose-pet.

Yesterday after work I went to Syn with Jessie & Karen and we drank numerous martinis: Cosmopolisyn, Original Syn . . . also I tried their new 4 course entree option, with steak & Caesar salad & mashed taters & veggies & tapas & turtle pie. I could NOT eat it all. Luckily Jessie & Karen are weak for tapas & turtle pie. I felt like I was living in a small town again yesterday. The Chapters staff know me, since I worked there for a month two summers ago & I’m friends with Liv & I was Prof. Trelawny at the Harry Potter Launch Party & because I’m in there almost every day. So I made nice talk with all the salespeople and cashiers, and then at Syn I know the manager & most of the servers (due to being a frequent customer and a vocal feedback-giver). It was like Invermere all over again.

Eye Update
Since I’m sure you’re all very concerned about my health, let me assure you that my eye is a lot better, due to rampant glasses-wearing this week and frequent eye-drop applications. There’s a little bit of red left by the iris, and my eyes seem to get dry quickly when I do wear my contact lenses, but I think an emergency has been avoided. Damn this stuffy office space and hidden asbestos and early morning work hours!! This is NOT conducive to happy eye health.

Giddy About Atomic Vaudeville
Atomic Vaudeville’s theme this month is “The Gayest Show Ever.” We’ve invited Karen to attend for the first time, and us regulars are VERY excited about the possible skits. Also, I don’t have to work on Friday, September 30, so I can stay up late on Thursday and drink my ears off and not worry about 5am alarm clocks. YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!

Loud Keyboard – Saturday, Sept.17/05 – 10:56am
House still asleep after loud Christian campers sleepover last night — us older people recuperating from 3:30am comp. games — going to read a book now.

Apparently Prayer Works – Monday, Sept. 19/05 – 5:56 am
Or I can control the weather. I was walking to work and just as I passed under a bus shelter it started to rain, and I still had 10 minutes or so of open-air walking, and I muttered, Heather-like, “Don’t rain, please don’t rain” because my red umbrella is at work and I forgot my blue umbrella in Q’s car, and it sprinkled for a few blocks and then stopped. I’m like Storm from the X-Men.

How can I do anything that isn’t “Heather-like”????

I was a bad little writer this weekend as far as website updates go, but I got a fair bit of editing & thinking done on my fiction portfolio (for my MFA application). Also, the keyboard at R&R Flowers’s house is noisy (see above) so I wasn’t inclined to write anything when I woke up earlier than everyone else on Saturday. And Sunday we were too busy IKEAing and eating at IHOP. I love IHOP. Never been there before this weekend, but after 1 breakfast and 1 lunch and 1 extremely attractive man paying his bill at the till, I’m an IHOP groupie.

Weekend Run-down
Friday: ferried to Vancouver on the 5pm sailing in the Elite $7 for all-you-can-eat baked goods & hot beverages Quiet People Only Lounge. Nicole Barnett was there — I didn’t tell her about my nightmare wherein she waxed my eyebrows into girly pencil-lines. Ate custard danishes and drank tea and did Suduko puzzles.

Drove to Regan’s. Went to a Ukranian soup kitchen and ate cabbage rolls with Regan, Q, and Sarah from Chilliwack. Scored free drinks from the bartender. Returned to find Ryan & co. were hosting a sleepover for “at-risk” Christian camp pre-teens. We are old and uncool and alcoholics so we drank silently in the den out of coffee cups & watched Jimmy Fallon in Fever Pitch (decent movie). Went to bed; woke up sporadically due to adolescent exhuberance downstairs.

Saturday: I was awake at 10:30 am, unlike everyone else. Pre-teens sprawled everywhere foiled my plan to Suduko on the couch. Showered and took Celeste to the backyard until everyone else woke up. Stole bacon from Christian children’s breakfast buffet. Went to IHOP #1 with Regan, Q, and Sarah. Lusted after sexy man paying at the till. Ate eggs & bacon & sourdough toast. Zombied through shopping mall & Costco for party supplies. Bought brown skirt, excellent necklace @ mall, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy DVD at Costco. Returned to R&R’s. Napped for 1 hour. Dressed in new stuff, made pizza, tried to be pleasant and not too embarassing with guests.

Sunday: SLEPT REALLY REALLY WELL (due to Wild Vines blackberry “merlot”??) then got up and etc. Went to IHOP & IKEA (in love with both franchises). Ate cheesy philly steak sandwich & onion rings that left a puddle of grease on my plate. Bought random shit, including a patio table to hold my teapot & bamboo blinds to replace the ratty pink things leftover from the last tenant of my suite. Then: the 6pm ferry (crappy Queen of Saanich) and Wendy’s for a burger and home. The bunnies survived the weekend; I have new toys to play with from IKEA; all is well.

Chewing the Fat
I bitched to Q at one point about my sore hand, and he asked what the red marks were, and I said nothing relevant, and he asked if they were bite marks, and I confessed, and he asked when I’d made them, and I said Saturday night, and he scolded me, and I said “but why does my hand hurt?” and he said I’d probably bruised the muscle or something, which makes sense. But I really didn’t think the hurt would last beyond that initial bite, so new thing learned: I can actually damage myself! Whodathunkit! I thought I was like a snake, how they are immune to their own venom. Felt like a wanker as a result.

Oh, and Tupperware
I exploited an exceptional deal courtesy of a TupperWare flyer misprint, and now own a sexy set of FridgeSmart containers. Brenda delivered them on Friday, along with some of the stuff leftover from the play last year — including a lazy Susan (one of those spinning trays) which will be IDEAL for when I have tea. Yay TupperWare!

Jason Lee on TV – Tuesday, Sept.20/05
Ohmigod.

Buying Bouquets & Budgeting
I was gloomy and bored and restless (but in an apathetic way) yesterday. Oh, poor me.

But then I had an “e-conversation” with Old Man John, who seems really great, and I bought myself a huge bouquet of primary-coloured flowers (including those long green things with the bright petals — freesia?? I have no fricking clue) and some smoked salmon (thinking of Dad), and wandered home to set up my new bunny-porch patio set, wash the new TupperWare, and watch my Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy DVD. Basically, I kept busy and didn’t nap. Also, I ate good food. And listened to Ani DiFranco’s “Not a Pretty Girl,” the best song ever.

I am determined to go away this winter to somewhere sunny. But I don’t know how I should pay for it. I have always been impressed with Q’s ability to understand abstract concepts like “annual interest” and “prime + 2.5%” and so I sat down, sorted through six months of paperwork, and deduced the following:

I had three student loans, but paid one off this year. Now I have two student loans, plus one bank loan from my unemployed phase.
In total, I pay three payments per month: $216, $78 and $530.
The “annual interest rates” are “prime + 2.5%” for the first two payments, and “prime + 4.25%” for the third. So that makes sense to pay lots to that last one each month.
Are you bored yet? I am.
My credit cards have annual interest rates of 19% and 18.5%. That’s a lot higher than the loan rates, so therefore it’s good to pay those off every month.

So now I’m “in the know” regarding my finances! Yay! I have no idea what to do with this information. Can I do anything to enable a future vacation?? Change loan holders . . .???? Should I pay everything off and be bored for the three-four years that it will take? Should I say FUCK IT and stop paying my student debt and take that cash and blow it on Ouzo in Greece?

Normally, as you know, I resent advice in any form. In this instance, please feel free to share.

Finally, Some Excitement – Wednesday, Sept.21/05 – 6:29 pm
Work was crazy busy today. One part of my job (about 40%) involves sending out a compilation of ministry-related media coverage twice a day to the ministry’s employees. Usually these packages are about 5 to 10 pages long; today, I sent out three packages, totalling about 70 pages. I love it when it’s busy like this, and I feel like a significant part in the Wheel o’ Communications.

The other day I was checking out this tall guy on the bus, and when he sat down by me and said hi I realized it was Liam, the guy who used to give me free baklava at Eugenes years ago. I gave him my fancy schmancy business card & cell number and told him we should be friends, since I’ve known him longer than almost anyone else in Victoria. So he called me yesterday, and we were going to have tea/whatever today after work, but I worked until 4pm instead of 2pm so I had to cancel. Very disappointing. He’s quite tall.

In other news, either Sister Evy hasn’t had her baby yet, or the family hasn’t bothered to tell me that she has. She’s supposedly due on the 27th, but I suspect that’s just to accomodate Dad’s birthdate.

Tonight Q and I are going to a Rotary Club dinner. Q’s going because he’s a Rotarian; I’m going for the Yorkshire puddings. So I’m all dressed up in some fairly adult clothes, except that this shirt is too short and my belly sticks out when I’m not paying attention. It’ll be gaping after dinner.

And tomorrow will also be busy, I suspect. I hope that I still get Friday off to recuperate from this crazy week, but if it’s this hectic than I might not. Regardless, I intend to FINALLY meet up with Old Man John on Thursday or Friday.

Old Man John
Q says it’s rude of me to call him Old Man John, but he’s new to my story so I’m hoping the epithet will help you remember him. Eventually (if he sticks around) that will change.

The Bunnies
Everyone is extremely happy these days, as far as I can tell. I bought them carrots with tops yesterday, and fresh hay for their litterboxes/fibre intake, and they all have lots of sticks to chew and things to jump onto and space to run around in. My new bamboo blinds are (too) transparent (I’ll have to fix that) so I can see outside during the daytime, and Seamus is always sitting on the rock ledge of the balcony, surveying his bunny kingdom.

Clean Feet – Friday, Sept.23/05 – 1:47 pm
I don’t work today so I was able to sleep in. Around 10am I drank a pot of tea and did Suduko puzzles on the couch, and then I CLEANED MY APARTMENT! I swept, dusted, washed the floors, and even VACUUMED. The quantity of bunny hair dust bunnies (hee hee) was astounding. So now I can walk around in bare feet without picking up a rabbit’s worth of hair! Yay!

Smooching With Old Man John
I met John last night! Finally! We rendezvoused at Serious Coffee at 4:30pm, and walked to the beach, and drank a bottle of white wine (I even liked it) and talked until the sun went down and it got cold. Then we stopped in at the Beagle Pub, and ordered mussels & salad & nachos (the nachos were my contribution) and John had a Guinness.

From now on I will drop the “Old Man” epithet because, depite being 36, John looks about 29-31-ish. (Except that I was doing the math while almost asleep last night, and John must have been born in 1969 or so — eek. That’s a long time ago!!!!!)

John is a very good looking man. And he smiles & laughs a lot. And he’s smart. And my first thought after meeting him was: “Dammit, he’s gay.”

Q says that men know their sexual orientation by age 36, so it’s very very unlikely that John is gay. Also, he wore black socks with brown shoes. HOWEVER, for someone with my experience, even the POSSIBILITY is frightening. First time, shame on you – second time, shame on me – third time . . . ??

I’m trying to think of the “signs” that I recognized, but it’s become more of a feeling. Stereotypical “signs,” like an affection for refurbished furniture, an appreciation of wine, and quality personal grooming, are not reliable signals.

This is a terrible development. How can I explain to an attractive, intelligent man that I’ll be too worried about him being gay to ever properly relax & enjoy a relationship?

Anyhoo. John smooched me at the Beagle and after he walked me home, and that was EXACTLY what I needed. Although I felt guilty, exploiting his smooches when I wasn’t sure of his sexuality. I don’t know.

I’m going to Q’s tonight for a party of our best friends, most of whom I haven’t seen in awhile. That will be fun. And now I’m off to get dressed in Non-Work Clothes (yay!!!!) and get out of this newly-cleaned house.

The Leaves are Falling!!!! – Saturday, Sept.24/05 – 10 am
It’s Autumn!!!!! Dammit!!!!!

Jessie Looks Nothing Like Blossom
Rowan and Q and I had dinner last night at Q’s new place. BBQ steaks and salmon, asparagus, baby potatoes, roasted garlic & French bread, mushrooms . . . a feast. Later in the evening, Justin & Jessie & Spencer came over, and we caught up on all the news, and Spencer taunted me with descriptions of the single, tall men whose hair he cut/styled, and Jessie said: Hey, I look exactly like her! and pointed to this infomercial on TV with an actress who looks like Blossom (remember that ’90’s sitcom?). Apparently Jessie’s self-image issues are more serious than we’d thought.

I don’t know if this is a universal human condition, to have such a distorted self-image. Maybe that’s why no one likes their photographs.

Jessie and I have diagnosed part of her “issue”: her Barbie dolls were always naked, while mine were always clothed. Barbie’s ridiculous dimensions (when naked) were designed to accomodate the thickness of her clothing’s material — they can scale down the human figure into doll scale, but you can’t scale down material. So my Barbies’ bodies looked not much different than the women in real life — or at least, the ones on TV (ha!) — while Jessie’s Barbies just trumpeted: Big Boobs, Skinny Waist, Disproportiate Bodies Are Fun And Beautiful!

As For John
Q says I’ve become paranoid, and that if I screw up this possibility due to an unsubstantiated fear of history repeating itself then he will NEVER AGAIN be sympathetic to my whining re: no available men in Victoria.

Also, I really liked the smooching.

Oh, And Also – Sunday, Sept.25/05 – 10:32 am
I ran into the Crazy Beautiful Man from Starbucks Friday while walking with Celeste on Dallas Road’s doggy route. He has “Bell” tattooed on his very hairy tummy.

More to come later, but I rented High Fidelity and that’s first.

Ughy Day – Sunday, Sept.25/05 – 8:19 pm
I was ridiculously happy this morning, cuddled on my couch watching High Fidelity, drinking tea and listening to Peter terrorize a bundle of sticks under the couch. And then, somewhere between visits to Sears and Canadian Tire, I got icky and grumpy and blahy. Mood swings suck.

Q’s dad and stepmom bought Q a BBQ for a housewarming present. Due to my extensive experience with lego kits during my youth, I am the resident assembler: and it looks wonderful. It required a few strategic hammer-whacks to get everything to fit properly, but I suspect that was intentional — makes the male BBQer feel more manly. It was great for my passive aggressive rage.

Q and I had invited Andrew & his woman Claire over for dinner tonight, but I was so blahy that I could only envision an evening of heavy sighs and self-pity, so we postponed for some other time when I’ll presumably be amusing and perky. I miss Andrew — it will be good to have a bond over wine & salmon sometime soon.

Someone’s in Trouble
Or maybe this is my own fault — feel free to condemn me via the comments feature. John hasn’t called since our smoochie date Thursday, and since I know he left me in a chipper mood I strongly suspect that SOMEONE (Mark!!!) has told him about my website and that he’s read my “Old Man John is Probably Gay” entries and he’s run off.

So, question: was it wrong of me to post those thoughts, considering the mandate of this site? My disclaimer (I always have a disclaimer on hand) is that I NEVER told him about this site. And that I said nice things about him, even considering the emotional baggage I have re: potential love interests being gay. John doesn’t know my epic history of boyfriends/closeted ‘mos, so he’s missing some essential context.

Anyhoo. I feel badly.

High Fidelity
Good movie.

I also rented Alive (filmed in the Purcells near Invermere — my Dad worked on the set up at Panorama) and Coffee & Cigarettes, a token artsy thing. Sometimes I find token artsy things too wordy, but sometimes they also make me think, and I enjoy the subtle touches (e.g. black and white self-commentary in Woody Allen’s Celebrities).

Google.ca
I can track how visitors find my site, and today/yesterday someone from Australia found me by searching on google with: Simone de Beauvoir “Dean Moriarty.”

First thought: what the hell do de Beauvoir (20th century French feminist) and Dean Moriarty (Kerouac’s protagonist in On the Road) have in common??? Other than that they’re both mentioned in my play. I can’t believe someone would search for that.

Second thought: my soulmate lives in Australia. I hope he’s a suitable love match.

Busy Busy Busy – Monday, Sept.26/05 – lunchtime
Whew! It’s crazy busy at work today. I’ve been running around (computer/internet speaking) since 5:45am. Thank god I have a loaf of bread & some food stuff here at work!

In Other News
I have no idea what it’s like outside. It was chilly this morning (7:41am or thereabouts when I ventured out to fetch our daily newspapers). I’m wearing my new ugly green sweater & sexy pinstripe pants today, purchased from Old Navy this weekend. I was very grateful for the sweater, what with the FREEZING BLIZZARD CONDITIONS outside. Or something.

I’m sleepy (as usual) and will appreciate my nap this afternoon. Also, I still have Alive and Coffee and Cigarettes to watch this week.

I’m mainly bothering to update this because John emailed me this morning asking if I wanted to play this week. So I’ve somehow avoided offending him — assuming that he read this site at all . . . to prevent further emergencies, I’ll tell him about my ‘mo paranoia asap. I prefer to have everyone “in the know” about what’s going on with me — otherwise I forget who doesn’t know what and everything gets complicated.

Timely Doubts?
Q suggested that maybe this website isn’t such a clever idea. I’m posting personal information on here, and it would be easy for someone to abuse that insight. My argument, however, is that I don’t really give a shit about what anyone might think of this stuff. We’re practicing for when my work is in bookstores and on stage: I will tell everyone all my secrets, and if I know yours then yours might also come out (indirectly, I hope — I would never intentionally betray any of you). We’re rehearsing a sort of awkward, embarassing honesty. Isn’t this fun?

Holy Fricking Christ – Monday, Sept.26/05 – 7:49 pm
Coffee & Cigarettes is utterly bizarre. Also, I love Tom Waits.

Moment o’ Bliss
I had a pot of Lipton Yellow Bag & sugar & milk & my favourite little tea set, and I had my fleecy sweatpants on, and I was watching a movie.

Is there anyone in this world who could possibly improve that environment with their company? It’s one of my favourite ways to spend time, and I have NEVER met anyone who could make it even more pleasurable.

Drowning Our Sorrows in Sushi
Liv and I are sushi-ing tomorrow! Yay!!!!

And on Thursday we have a HUGE group for Atomic Vaudeville. Regulars so far include: Liv, me, Jessie, Q, Spencer. First-time guests include: Trevor (via Liv), Karen (via Jessie), and maybe John (via me). Fun fun fun fun fun fun fun!

For any of you Victoria readers, you’re welcome to join us, or just go and watch the show. It’s Wednesday and Thursday nights at 1514 Broad Street (the Event Centre). Doors at 7:30pm, show at 8pm, cover is $12 or so. Cash bar . . . the theme this month is “The Gayest Show Ever”!!!!

Wonderfully Sore Legs – Wednesday, Sept.28/05
It’s wonderful because I ran like a crazy thing yesterday. Yay for me! I haven’t run around the block in months — my excuse was the summer heat — and despite being ridiculously out of shape I still managed to run my FULL LOOP, switchbacking around blocks to make the distance longer. I am amazing.

Other Weird Adventures
When getting dressed Tuesday morning I couldn’t figure out how to wear a long blouse thing with my skirt, since the skirt has a belt that gets tied up in the front and there would be a bulge under the blouse from the knot. THEN I realized that I could tuck in the blouse, and it wouldn’t look ridiculously strange because I was wearing another shirt overtop.

Anyhoo, to paraphrase: I (re)invented tucking in shirts. I haven’t tucked in a shirt since I was 15. It was liberating.

And also, after doing a load of laundry (my undies and some work socks) and running around the block and watching the taped episodes of Medium and CSI: Miami from Monday night and eating a Swiss cheese & sprout sandwich I was EXHAUSTED so I went to bed for a nappy nap. At 6:30pm. And then I woke up this morning when my alarm went off at 5:15am.

Belated September 27th Celebrations
If I hadn’t fallen asleep so early, I would have made a pretty, multi-coloured capital letters headline at the top of this page, which would have said:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!!! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MOM & DAD!!!!

But since I fell asleep it’s now only a silly black-font wish. Nonetheless, I was thinking of them yesterday, and I sent Daddy an e-Card with an e-Song, and I wrote some emails to let them know I was thinking of them and loving them long-distance yesterday. So I’m still a good daughter.

I’M AN AUNTY!!! – Friday, Sept.30/05
From Mom and Dad:

Jared and Evy had their baby boy tonight at 9:08pm.
Thus far he is nameless. He is beautiful. Weighs 7 pounds 14 ounces
and is LONG!
from a relieved and happy granny and grandpa
Ginny & Bob

Heather McLeod