The Autumn's Here. So's Grandma.
It was a picture perfect day today. You would think that being on parental leave would mean that any day of the week would be the same as the others, but weekends are still double-plus good.
(On a side note, this is my last weekend before returning to work. The good and the bad thing about being a parent is that your child or children suddenly become front and centre in your life; you forget about your sore back or that you haven't eaten in 12 hours - this last point is a hypothetical argument, because ever since Grandma has been here, the promised smorg of pies has become a reality and the food has been flowing like maple syrup at a sugar bush, the kind of sugar bush that Mononcle et Matante go to, not the ones that tourists go to. Anyway, you forget all the bad things because you're focusing on the baby. The downside is that you also forget exactly what your job is. I found a business card the other day, so I have my title, and the address of my work, but I'm having a little trouble remembering what floor my office is on. I do, however, remember the license plate number of the Buick Park Avenue that Mom had when I was in Grade 9, which I'm sure will account for something during employee performance review. More on Mommy or Daddy Brain in some later post. If I remember.)
The Autumn's here. In Ottawa, that means bags and bags and bags of maple leaves. And when life gives you leaves, you have a photo shoot.
Incidentally, the photo below is of the three generations of women. Margo is also wearing a handknit sweater from a good friend at The UV Report. She's also wearing stretch pants by Dior and the contents of her diaper are courtesy of MamaDonna's Organic Milkshake Emporium.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Wow, do we ever have a lot to be thankful for this year. This time of year brings me back to harvest time in the rural Prairies, when the communities would come together to throw the mother of all potlucks. It's harvest time, man. Bountiful. You know... horns of plenty. We weren't celebrating the fact that some starving white guys with funny hats were given food by First Nations people hundreds of years ago. This is Canada. If we celebrated that, we would be eating tables heaped with bountiful pemmican. (That's okay, I think I found a Glossette in my pocket that I'll nibble on instead.) No, this was Canadian Thanksgiving, giving thanks that varieties of grain were developed that could be harvested earlier, otherwise, the prospects of surviving winter would be pretty shitty, with periods of overcast crappiness.
We're happy to have friends who will be joining us in our 100% pemmican-free feast. I hope that you all have something for which to give thanks. This is ours:
- Michel
(On a side note, this is my last weekend before returning to work. The good and the bad thing about being a parent is that your child or children suddenly become front and centre in your life; you forget about your sore back or that you haven't eaten in 12 hours - this last point is a hypothetical argument, because ever since Grandma has been here, the promised smorg of pies has become a reality and the food has been flowing like maple syrup at a sugar bush, the kind of sugar bush that Mononcle et Matante go to, not the ones that tourists go to. Anyway, you forget all the bad things because you're focusing on the baby. The downside is that you also forget exactly what your job is. I found a business card the other day, so I have my title, and the address of my work, but I'm having a little trouble remembering what floor my office is on. I do, however, remember the license plate number of the Buick Park Avenue that Mom had when I was in Grade 9, which I'm sure will account for something during employee performance review. More on Mommy or Daddy Brain in some later post. If I remember.)
The Autumn's here. In Ottawa, that means bags and bags and bags of maple leaves. And when life gives you leaves, you have a photo shoot.Incidentally, the photo below is of the three generations of women. Margo is also wearing a handknit sweater from a good friend at The UV Report. She's also wearing stretch pants by Dior and the contents of her diaper are courtesy of MamaDonna's Organic Milkshake Emporium.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Wow, do we ever have a lot to be thankful for this year. This time of year brings me back to harvest time in the rural Prairies, when the communities would come together to throw the mother of all potlucks. It's harvest time, man. Bountiful. You know... horns of plenty. We weren't celebrating the fact that some starving white guys with funny hats were given food by First Nations people hundreds of years ago. This is Canada. If we celebrated that, we would be eating tables heaped with bountiful pemmican. (That's okay, I think I found a Glossette in my pocket that I'll nibble on instead.) No, this was Canadian Thanksgiving, giving thanks that varieties of grain were developed that could be harvested earlier, otherwise, the prospects of surviving winter would be pretty shitty, with periods of overcast crappiness.We're happy to have friends who will be joining us in our 100% pemmican-free feast. I hope that you all have something for which to give thanks. This is ours:
- Michel
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on Saturday, October 07, 2006 at 7:46 p.m..
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