Category: Play

Morning o’ Boredom

The weather isn’t cooperating with my great Outdoors Summer Plan. So we’re getting into trouble indoors instead. Actually, I think that’s okay. Things picked up after this, at least briefly, and for some of us. CJ maintained a non-stop screeching, complaining riff (could be the new tooth pressing against the gum), but the big kids dragged themselves off the floor to play Jr. Monopoly together. We ate what amounted to lunch. I had a cup of coffee. Could be worse. Boredom is good for the soul, in the small tolerable doses, that is. Pushes its sufferers toward creativity. One hopes.
I’ve had requests for my granola and quiche recipes, so will post those at some point in the near future. Meanwhile, it’s Siesta Time. What am I doing standing here typing?

The Upside to Construction

Weekends the noise stops, and the digging, and the beep-beep-beeping, and the dust settles, and all is quiet at our little corner of urbanity. Time to hang the clothes on the line. Time to get out the wheeled devices. Time to fly.

Playing School v. Real School


Yesterday was so peaceful. We played school.
Today, I was up early anticipating some time alone to blog and email friends and prepare for a writing day; sort of forgot about the two cakes waiting on the counter to be decorated for real school’s cake decorating contest. It was bottom of the barrel around here … what could be scavanged from cupboards to decorate cakes, not to mention the cakes themselves were so moist only I could frost without eviscerating them in the process. It took me eleven minutes to smear white frosting on one round cake. “These cakes could win the ‘most pitiful’ competition.” The kids riffed on that theme for awhile, but bless them, they weren’t in the least discouraged. Apple-Apple took her time and planned carefully, “Autumn tree with roots,” and Albus chucked things on randomly and then declared that it was a composting cake. (Both went with the “eco” theme.)
I should post photos, but honestly … pitiful. We had five minutes left over in which to eat breakfast, dress, and run to the walking school bus. Poor Kevin was tasked with driving the cakes to school (yes–cakes, not children, how’s that for eco madness).
Now I’m upstairs for writing day. Feeling resistant because this last story isn’t yielding easily. I’m digging through the cupboards dragging odds and sods off the shelves and tossing the mess onto the blank; a composting story, I suspect, rather than “autumn tree with roots.”

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring

Tropical downpours turn our sidewalks into raging creeks. After supper, the older kids strip down and head out to do some puddle-jumping. Across the street, a fellow watching the rain from his front porch shouts, “Used to do the same thing when I was a kid in Newfoundland!”

Witching Hour

Have been worrying about how I’m going to balance the multiple demands of that delicate witching hour, 4-5, now that the weather is gorgeous and my toddler wants to play outside with the big kids. Can’t be in two places at once. Well, this may be my fate (and our neighbours’): me shouting every minute and a half out the open windows, “Who can see CJ??” Thank heavens for good fences.

On the other hand, my shouting is probably the least of our neighbours’ noise concerns, given the cacophony of construction orchestration going on outside our front door. This is the clearly marked “Road Closed” sign, which I ran out just now to photograph because it WILL NOT LAST. In fact, Kev informs me that the line-up of pylons has already been dismantled by some enterprising driver in a hurry. I am striving not to let it bug me lest I morph into one of our neighbours, whom I shall refer to as The Mayor of W Street, who lives to be the bearer of bad news, and is on a quest to smite those who commit all and any minor by-law and traffic infractions. He’s also sometimes generous, and this afternoon left for us, without a word of explanation, this little red wagon.

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