I'm married to a Griswold

Yes, I know there aren't that many lights.  But, when goes to Canadian Tire thrice each weekend day for more lights and starts chatting up the neighbour about his lights.  The neighbour puts out lights, Clark Griswold puts out lights.  The neighbour puts out more lights, Clark puts out more lights.  And it keeps going on and on and on.

signed, the willow

Back to Work

My challenge this week has been to balance a new work life with home life.  Working full time for someone else hasn't happened for 8 years for me.  So, it's a bit of a stretch for me.

First, I'm tired.

Second, there's no time to exercise. Or, if there is, I'm sleeping due to the point above.

Third, I miss my little girl and feel like the few precious moments in the evening are spent demanding her to do things.

Fourth, I feel guilty because everyone has made accommodations so that I can work.

Fifth, I feel squeezed, incapable, and fragile.  I'm new at this, so I know that it will get better and no day will be easy or perfect.

signed, the willow

Bridge Dreams

It's funny because *Mila* and I decided to talk about dreams.  Oddly enough we have both dreamed that Mr. Weatherbee, from Archie comics, is a serial killer.  I know it sounds hilarious.  But it's not.  Why is there something so strangely creepy about Mr. Weatherbee?

Then we started to discuss a common dream we both have:  Driving over bridges with our fathers; Driving through water with our fathers.  We want them to rescue us, but quite often we have to drive through the puddles, get a little wet, even muddy sometimes.  So, why do we both have these dreams?  I think I may have already answered this question.  We encounter "puddles" and obstacles in life.  We find bridges to cross, cars to cross the puddles in.  Sometimes we get wet.  Sometimes we make mistakes.  Sometimes we are just plain scared.  So, who better to protect us than our dads.

I'm a grown woman and yet, I still need the comfort to know that my dad will carry me through some "puddles" in life.  I also find it very comforting that my daughter finds comfort with my husband, *Steve*, her dad.

As for Mr. Weatherbee....stay tuned.

signed, the willow

:)

Freshwater salmon

First of many chickadees

Shortly after this photo was taken, Suma had her back legs fall off the boardwalk and narrowly escape death.

The rather mangy and scruffy, but elusive cardinal

signed, the willow

It's been 23 years

Ok, it's been about 23 years since I have been to, or even considered going to, a concert.  

As *Mila* has the biggest girl crush on Selena Gomez and I find Selena harmless as far as little girl role models go, I figured there was no harm in having a last minute look online for 2 tickets.  

Knowing full well that prices probably sky rocket at the last minute, I decided not to tell her and instead just surfed.  Within about 10 seconds I found a set on the floor and emailed my husband the details. (I emailed him because he was sleeping and considered to be dead to the world.)  So, off *Mila* went to gymnastics while *Steve* made arrangements to buy the tickets (below cost I might add, the reason why he was left to negotiate).  I didn't think much more about it and finished my own workout, laundry, etc. and then *Steve* called to say *Mila* had made plans for an afternoon playdate, so that we could go grab tickets in Hamilton.  The worry then began.  Now I have to actually go to the concert?  Crap!  What did I do that for?  Okay, so I psych myself up for staying up late, get motivated, etc. and what if this? what if that?  Yeah.  I started to worry that we'd get the internet printout of tickets rather than the actual tickets.  Now what?  So, sure enough we get to the mall to meet two very honest looking young girls who have an envelope of internet printed tickets.  *Steve* has faith in the situation and gives the girl cash for the tickets and now I begin to zone out.  We've probably been ripped off and they've photocopied the tickets 50 times and resold them.  Really, what's to stop them from doing that?  

We went to pick up *Mila* from her playdate and we asked her if she wanted to come out tonight.  She considered it, but asked all the right questions: who? when? where? with who? to what?  So I handed her the questionable tickets and asked her to read where and when and then she could decide.  Kids scan things so quickly and know where to find information.  She handed them back and said "seats 35 and 36".  Yeah, but if you read the tickets you can see where and when...."SELENA GOMEZ?"  She had tears in her eyes and quite honestly, I did too because her dad and I had just officially blown her mind.  Something we parents like to do to see if an explosion will occur or what maximum elated expression will be shown to prove our own creation is actually real and not a hologram.

We arrived, only slightly lost, at the concert with some great friends [and one awesome assertive driver ;) ] who were scattered across the Coliseum (a fancy word for Arena in Hamilton).  We lined up to have our tickets scanned and then I got the [beep] [beep] [beep] sound on ours.  GREAT!  My heart pounded.  I've blown her mind and now we're going to get yanked because we've been scammed?  OMG!  I'm dying inside.  I'm clearly the worst mother in the Universe for letting this happen. Buying tickets off an online auction, last minute?  BAD MOTHER.  We are now yanked to the side to stand by an office where a father is yelling at a concert-organizer-looking-manager-type-guy.  He's furious.  His wife has her head in her hands.  His tweenage daughters have their well coiffed locks and perfectly mascara'd eyes leaning their heads up against the cinder block walls.  We too will be them in about 2 minutes.  The very kind supervisor that is now holding my tickets was sympathetic and came out of the office and said "Well, we don't really know why, but your tickets are flagged for some reason.  Go.  Sit down in the seats.  Enjoy the concert.  But, if the original owner shows up with the actual tickets, we'll have to ask you to leave.  Don't worry. Go."

So, off we went and sat in our rather tiny chairs.  Two male foreign exchange students from an Asian country sat behind us.  They were so excited about Selena.  It was the highlight of my night.  

Here's *Mila* unsure of what she's about to witness.

The first act was a you-tube sensation named Christina Grimmie, who's victorious voice will take her wonderful places.  Funny that I chose the word "victorious" as her middle name is Victoria and I just found out on that wikipedia interwebby page.

Next was Shawn Desman.  Great dancers.  Great costumes.  Is this what concert bloggers say?  Concert blogger, I am not.

The music was loud and thumping.  The screaming got to *Mila* more than I thought it would.  Since she's been known to dish it out on more than the odd occasion.


Starry eyed.  Sparkly eyed.  And even a touch of mascara on those lashes for some extra glam.

And then Selena came out.  She sang.  No lip-synching here.  I think I started to enjoy the pop tunes and sweet saccharin of this odd event I have found myself in.  Mostly because it's now 8:30 and these seats are obviously ours.

Don't you hate concert photos from someone's BlackBerry?  no kidding.  Especially when they are not sure if they can use a flash or not and clearly are annoying the tweenagers in front with the laser-wielding blinding light to get rid of red eye!

I'm sorry.  But I have to show off my fun.  I'm a sucker for a chart, graph, measurement gauge, dashboards, stock market like plots, or treble equalizer (whatever!  you get the picture).

Selena did a little Britney Spears tribute as the first concert Selena went to was Britney's in the nosebleed section, no less.  Haven't we all sat in the nosebleeds?   I'm still sitting in the audience and thinking to myself "I wish I could be a dancer for a pop star.  Am I too old?  Maybe Aerosmith will take me on?"   

The highlight of her night....

I had the same highlight, oh 25 years ago....

signed, the willow

Silver Spoons without Ricky Schroeder

This great little metal piece was made by a Muskoka artist.  The petals are fashioned from old silver spoons. You know the tarnished old collectible ones your Gramma has.  A pink rock tied in for soft effect and then it was fashioned to a metal hair band.

But it fell off of *mila* girl's head a few too many times and I need someone to solder it back on.

Who would that be?

Maybe this guy?

Maybe not.  He looks like he catches flies with that mouth.


Doh!

signed, the willow

My Attention Span is Waning

When this blog began, I wrote.  The odd photo appeared as a novelty:  from my own collection, my family, my own imagination.  Then, something changed.  (My lifestyle, most likely.)  I began to morph into so many other blogs out there.  Post a picture and write a caption. Copy. Paste.  Repeat.

Then *Steve* came home this week with a printed copy of my blog.  It was contained in a very large 3-ring binder and *Mila* and I began to pour through.  Some memories ruffled my feathers.  How could I be so silly to worry about all the menial things I worried about.  No excuse.  Somewhere in my journey of copy and paste (and that crazy life), I became grateful.  Time was again on my side.  I met some wonderful people that were very supportive and recognized many others who had been for quite some time, and yet I had not realized this.  

So, back to the big book of blog.  Like Elaine's big salad.  (right here I was suctioned into the world of Seinfeld only to re-emerge 20 minutes later), I realized how much substance I was adding.  An expression of myself, as pathetic as that may seem to some.  It was my outlet when I wanted to scream.  It went away when I channeled my energy onto a window display, a 6 mile run, P90X, or raising my child.  Then *Steve* put it to me quite bluntly, "You used to write.  You don't do that anymore."  Why?  My attention span was waning as was the rest of the world's.  I found that one paragraph was enough to read.  So, why would someone want to read more than one paragraph?  I'm taking the time again.  For me. Maybe I can paint, or document to some degree, write a tad, photo-journalize my life, blog it, print it, and take time to read it and ENJOY IT.

And now for something completely different.

Little Red SumaDog. 

Twinkie sitting there waiting for some love or bunny crack, which would be this stuff.

You can be sure that this story doesn't have an end.  Only had a brief rest period from the prose and written jargon.  As The Terminator once said "I'll be back".  And, he did come back for Terminator 2  and Terminator 3.  That's for you *Steve* ;)

signed, the willow

Hike and a Birthday

This past weekend was Thanksgiving for us in Canada and also my husband's birthday.  Here's some of the highlights.  Enjoy!

We had a little roaring fire after dinner.

 

And then there was this major sporting event that couldn't be missed!  It was the Winnipeg Jets vs. Montreal Canadiens.  I was torn being a Habs fan, but all those years I spent in Winnipeg, and they got their team back?  Sorry Montreal.  You took the win, but Winnipeg deserved those cheers!  And *Steve* parked the TV in a window so we could enjoy this beautiful weather.

Waiting for some marshmallows?

On holiday Monday, we took *Steve* for a hike.  Here he is proudly holding the caramel latte I made for him.

We packed a picnic basket filled with goodies (and candy bracelets, oddly enough) for a little tailgate party.  We turned down the wrong road, saw cars parked everywhere.  So we acted like Disney's lemmings and followed the crowd.  We thought we were lost until we spied a familiar creek.  Turned out the landmarks we  were now looking for?  Well.  We'd been there about 50 times.

The forest was utterly Carolinian and amazing.

All hardwoods and very much reminded me of a place to have a fairy-inspired wedding.

Maybe one day?

I don't even know what to say about this tree stump stripped of its cloak.  Interesting.

A place to stop and enjoy Tiffany Falls

This lady had some serious gear.  Jealous?  Yes. Until I saw that she couldn't bring a dog or child with her.  Instead she had to bring a husband to carry said gear.

This is the dog we brought.  We overheard some girls say "Oh, that's the kind of dog I want to get.  I love those dogs."  What?  Random mutts?  Croatian highland sheepdogs?  Corgi shepherd mixes?  Where have you ever seen this "type" of dog before?  Maybe here, on my blog?  I bet that's it!

He's very proud to be out on his birthday.

See?

Posing, even.

*Mila* took a call from her grandparents.

and then we let *Steve* have the camera.  Our turn.

She has my calves, and actually has ankles.

The water here is so sulfur filled, that it's grey or silvery at times.

The camo-like bark of the sycamores.

Happy Thanksgiving was had in Canada.  Aren't we smarter to do it before the snow falls?

signed, the willow