Ode to a Husband

Chores around the house Kevin does when not immobilized by a broken knee: takes out the garbage, organizes the recycling, empties the compost, gives the kids baths, changes the occasional diaper, does virtually all outdoor work, sings the children off to sleep, puts CJ to bed, makes breakfast, drives the big kids to the walking school bus on his way to work, and this one, which only occurred to me on Monday–cleans the fish bowls! There’s probably more I’m forgetting right now. Phew.

Maybe this will bring me and the fish closer together.

Good News with Compliments

For those of you forced to endure even one minute of my ongoing, seemingly bottomless writerly angst, this post is for you. Here is an excerpted acceptance letter I received earlier this week from the editor at The New Quarterly (which is a very fine Canadian literary magazine that has stood the test of time):

“I am thrilled with this story, the leaps and turns it makes in the later section from the heat and humiliation and incomprehension and secret delight of the child trying to make sense of her surroundings … to the more mature suspicion of her own memories and motives. The way, I guess, that it moves from the specifics of a particular time and place, from sensation, to a more distanced, abstract, reflective mood. … Consider this story accepted (for the summer or, more likely, the fall issue) …. I hope you are feeling a mounting excitement yourself about what you are doing with these stories, the shape they are finding.”

It goes against my instincts to post Good News Related to My Writing, especially with Compliments; hopefully I won’t regret this later. But if I’m sharing the agony, it seems fit to share a moment of joy, too. This particular writing project is well into its third year, and has seen a variety of conceptions and forms tried on and discarded, and this letter echoes my own feelings (and egregiously superstitious hopes) about its current shape: “a mounting excitement.” There’s still a heap of hard, even excruciating, work to be done before it reaches anything I’d dare to call to a book. But. Nevertheless. Yes. This moment is here to be enjoyed. It isn’t necessarily going to lead, directly or indirectly, toward something else, it just is what it is; and it’s good.

“Leprechorn”

The “Leprechorn” visited our house today. We’d heard from a friend on Friday about this tradition (new to me) … leave a cup/bowl/bucket/yogurt container on your steps on St. Patrick’s Day and receive some treats (in the case of the friend, chocolate-covered almonds). We had none of those, but not to worry, Mommy, the Leprechorn will bring some! Albus took charge. He instructed the girls where to leave the container, he searched for suitable items, including these four green balloons on which he drew lucky clovers with permanent marker. He secretly placed the container. And he waited patiently for someone to notice it. Here it waits in the sunshine, while the children play and play and play.

Evidence of Spring

Experiment’s done. I’m going back to the single blog, and will mingle photographs haphazardly with words, hang the consequences and messiness. Life is messy. Here’s what we found in our backyard today: snowdrops poking through brown earth; a toddler who looked as comfortable as the old-timers in the sandbox; children climbing and running and imagining; one man resting his leg and supervising.

Help is on the way!



We are grateful to everyone who has offered to run errands, play with children, and otherwise assist our limping family. Thank you! Your phone may be ringing in the very near future …

Tonight’s serendipitous moment arrived at 5. I wrote for part of the day, and didn’t put any thought to supper. Kept putting that thinking off, and off, and off, till it really was suppertime. Suddenly, there was a knock upon the door. Neighbour Nina: “Would this raspberry custard pie fit with your supper plan?” Are you kidding me? This raspberry custard pie IS my supper plan!

Placed pie upon table. Meandered about trying to finish reading through today’s story, chasing CJ up the stairs (aargh, what fabulous timing that new skill is!), while wondering what to add to the pie plan. Finally dug through the fridge, found leftover pasta, leftover sauce, heated those together with the remnants of a veggie broth. Would it be enough? Apple-Apple wanted to help, so I set her to making a spinach salad with sliced apples. Apple-Apple slicing apples! Not fingers, thankfully. We made heaps, Apple-Apple tossed it, too.

And then we ate. Like the loaves and the fishes, we feasted upon what was at hand. I cut the pie into eight pieces. “How many will we each get to eat?” “Is CJ having a piece?” “Let’s say no.” “Oh! Five, so that means three leftover! Perfect! One extra for me and Albus and Fooey.” “Hmm … CJ really likes this pie, too.” “What if we split each extra piece in half?” “Perfect! Six pieces! One extra for everyone!”

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About me

My name is Carrie Snyder. I work in an elementary school library. I’m a fiction writer, reader, editor, dreamer, arts organizer, workshop leader, forever curious. Currently pursuing a certificate in conflict management and mediation. I believe words are powerful, storytelling is healing, and art is for everyone.

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