Bohemian Warholism

Don't ask....

Cool though, isn't it?

Weekends aren't supposed to be like this

Ask anyone who knows me: weekends in my world are generally lazy. Some gardening, some baking, some household chores may be necessary, but my plan for most weekends involves leisurely mornings with a pot of coffee and late breakfast, and getting everything that needs to be done completed before 2pm so I can spend quality time with a book or some writing or some other hobby. This time of year, that often involves sangria on the veranda, which is truly an added bonus. I don't plan any regular kid activities for Saturday or Sunday because I know we won't make them. We even gave up horse riding because much as I loved cantering across a field, it took a good three hours out of every Saturday morning. Swimming, karate, scouts, sailing, soccer, ultimate frisbee, even grocery shopping and errands...all scheduled in our household between Monday and Thursday (which, even typing this, makes me realize why I am tired). There are occasional exceptions for soccer tournaments, etc and family activities such as camping, hiking, sailing across the bay are fun and not included here, but routine weekends at home are meant for relaxing.

Last weekend, however, was an aberration. Grace had back-to-back flying lessons and soccer practice, my in-laws came for a quick birthday lunch, after which I quickly whisked birthday boy to a friend's overnight camping expedition, and his sister to another sleepover. Sunday was a scout fundraising campaign for our trip to Alberta this summer (and for which I spent hours making soup and sandwiches on Saturday night), and driving Anna to Upper Canada Village to meet up with her friends. 

By the time Sunday night came, I was exhausted.

This weekend, thankfully, is back to normal. 

Drank coffee until 10, are out looking at Andrew's dream vehicle (more to come), and have no other planned activities for the next 36 hours.

Unless you count this...

13

 Cool when he wants to be...

Apple of his great-grandmother's eye...

Fond of his sisters...

Even when they are pesky...

And freaking adorable as a kid.

Now a teenager. Happy birthday, sunshine.

Romantic

Watching a movie in which the tough Captain of the Guard guards over his heart just enough so that the viewer knows and feels his eternal love, but the object of his affections does not. This is a love unrequited and impossible, and just so very - and tragically - beautiful.

Beside me, Anna at 11 was in tears.

She is, apparently, her mother's daughter.

Ten

And awesome.

Should Know Better

I should know better about lots of things probably. But certainly, saving work done on a computer ought to be top of the list. But tonight, waiting for Anna at karate, I drafted a blog post on my ipad and then closed the app without saving and now it's gone.

So mad at myself.

As a result, if you want to know about...

• my cathartic rant regarding attendance, assignments and grading at the college level;
• how I managed to convince my son I am mad, and my colleagues I am hilarious;
• my little hint at an upcoming diatribe on plagiarism and guillotines;
• the AMAZING creative projects I have received this week from students who have inspired, surprised, and impressed me, and my thoughts on the value of independent projects; 
• how I plan to spend the month of May now that I am primarily off work; or
• the delicious salad I made for dinner tonight

...I'm afraid you are out of luck. I'm not rewriting. I might offer it up in dribs and drabs. But for tonight, I am done. Now....there is a glass of wine calling my name.

Lupins

Feeling great today. Maybe because of the crocuses poking through, the sun streaming down, or the fact that one more week of grading is all that stands between me and a month off work. I got out for long walks, a run, and a swim the last few days, and am waving goodbye to the apathy of last week.

I have to be a little bit morbid though because Rita MacNeil died this morning. One of my "comfort" singers, I have listened to so many of her songs over the years, and she's one of the handful of singers I've seen in concert. "Working Man" is her anthem, but I have a soft spot for plenty of her other songs as well. Once, new to Ontario and missing the East coast with a ferocity I never anticipated, I listened to "Steal Me Away,"
and was so moved, I wrote her a little note thanking her. She wrote back. By hand. On flowered notepaper. Thanking me for enjoying, for listening, for sharing. I thought then, how lovely. But I don't think lovely is right. It was just Rita. Just who she is.

It was my dear friend Carla who introduced me to the music of Rita MacNeil. "She has the voice of an angel," she told me, dancing gently to "Call Me and I'll Be There" in her sunlit, whitewashed apartment in downtown Halfax. Ever sentimental, Carla would well up in tears at the haunting opening vocals of "Working Man" - especially when sung harmonically by Men of the Deep. Through Carla, I came to know Rita and Big Pond (a place Carla and I went on an ill-conceived road trip where we forgot to book accommodations and ended up sleeping in her Saturn, feeling like pathetic groupies) and though I came to appreciate Rita for myself, her music is always inextricably tied up with good memories of Nova Scotia and lupins and friendship.

I can't bring myself to believe in Heaven, but just for today, I choose to believe it exists. In it, I see Rita, singing, and Carla, dancing.

The lupins are dead now
But they did bloom well now...
And please, God, if time's kind
And there's still a Big Pond
I'd love to go back there again.