Horse Maneuver

The little guy is reading full chapter books by himself, so I expect these little slip ups won't happen for very much longer. (The big guy is reading about how to protect the family from a zombie breakout.) Life if good.

Me: Where did you go today?

Him: Island Farms.

Dad: The milk place?

Him: Yep, they have a thousand cows. It smelled like olives.

(Dad and I smile at each other. Does he even know what olives smell like?)

Him: And then when you get out of the barn, it smells like horse maneuver.

(We smile again)

Just previous to this conversation, I was on my bike talking to a friend about horse's on bike paths. Funny, but we used the word maneuver in our conversation too.

Play fair

My favourite route to work takes me by a neat and tidy green sign that says "PLAYFAIR PARK." I love that.

I want to work in a city called CLEAN VILLE in a building called SHARE on a street named BENICE DRIVE for a company called DOGOOD LTD.

We would have lunch at the SHAREWITHOTHERS DINER and order HELPOUT BURGERS.

Insight into a teenage mind

"It's really beginning to feel like home around here. TV, XBOX and even a new tea kettle."

New Favourite website

I love this website. Treehouses. Fortune Cookies. Ghost Towns. Beautiful photography. YUM!

Corner Stores

Just a little thank you to all the corner stores out there that make their front doors inviting by greeting me with flowers, that keep the windows clear and clean and free from clutter calling card rates from here to Thailand and Chernobyl and Barcelona, that sell licorice by the piece, that stock magazines and comics with covers my kids can actually see without blushing, that offer cold ice cream sandwiches and 25 cent freezies on hot days for after the swim at the lake, that sell candies in a brown paper bag, that keep cigarettes and zig-zags away from view, that leave water in a dish outside for the dogs, that have bicycle racks, that sell milk not sour and gum not stale, that say welcome and thank you and please come again, that stock their shelves with popcorn and baking soda and brown eggs and good bread and crisp apples and other food essentials that are convenient but still good for us, that cherish their neighbourhood and pick up litter on the street, that remember us, that keep their awnings looking fresh without losing it's aged beauty, that put bells on the door that jingle when we walk in, that continue to live beyond 7-11 and Mac's and all the gas station shops.

Thank you. I will come for licorice and root beer and popcorn and milk and bread as often as I can to support you back.

Star struck

Flew across the straight today. Can't imagine why that guy would want to sit up with the pilot and then read a newspaper the whole way... waste of a good seat. If I do say so myself.

My seat had a front row view of the stars, a few thousand feet up, of course. Tiny specks of sparkles shimmered on the water like fireflies bouncing on and off and around summer-time willow trees. Then, a huge mass of ocean-stars oscillated like the hum of herring floundering on the surface. All kinda blinding, like metal reflecting back millions of miles towards the sun, but stopping in my eyes instead.

Every night when we close the door after reading about ninjas and pirates and mice and puppies we sit in the dark and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the walls. That's another good seat. By the time I kiss good-night and get up and reach them, they have faded.

Seats aren't worth wasting. Life fades too fast.

Two views into why every house needs a hammock in the living room.