How's The Weather in Calgary?

So I have a few things to confess.  I know you are not blogging (how's the hand? did you see the comments at Voodoo Lounge?) but I find myself still checking your blogs.  I do not think that qualifies as cyber stalking.  I have also peeked at your Facebook and Linkdin pages.  Hope that's not creepy.

I feel like I did the first time I commented on the blog of someone I didn't personally know.  It was Emi, actually.  And I felt like a degenerate so I sent her a real email telling her who I was.  This was before I knew about the whole "letters to marc jacobs" thing.  There's irony for you.  I felt like I had to introduce myself for commenting to a women who wrote hundreds and hundreds of unanswered letter to Marc Jacobs.  She must have though me rather simple.  She still might.

I just want to make sure if I am crossing your line you let me know.  See, one of my first comments was from a gentleman in Australia.  I was thrilled and then I clicked his profile and read his blog and I realized he was in an institution in Australia.  And when medicated he was a thoughtful person who produced some beautiful art.  But, schizophrenia being what it is, when he was "off" his posts were a tad paranoid.  Which made me, being what I am, a bit paranoid.  His art was still fascinating.  Thankfully, continental drift is a slow thing so I'm not too worried about bumping in to him.

The closer I get to 40...

The closer I get to 40...the further my stomach drops when I see a fit, young man outside doing fit, young man things.  

The closer I get to 40...the more laps I have to take around the block when the firefighters are outside the station doing firefighter things in shirts...or not in shirts.

The closer I get to 40...the more excuses I come up with for having coffee near the university campus so I can enjoy the college boys out for a late morning run.  (Try it sometime.  Trust me.)

The closer I get to 40...the quicker my head snaps around to my side mirror when I drive by a young man working outside wearing jeans and work boots with nothing under his orange safety vest.

What is wrong with me?

I am blaming evolution.  When I was young and cute and could afford to be choosy, it was always the "good provider" thing that turned my head and kept it turned.  The "good breeder" thing never held a lot of my attention.  But as I am moving closer and closer to those last few ova, my chemistry is doing funny things to my, um, chemistry.

Anyway, did you ever even suspect that such a thing exists as a fit, young Air Force firefighter in a jumpsuit with a shaved head, Ray-Bans, and a Southern accent?  I would tell you where to find him, but I am afraid that information is classified.  

Dress-up Day

Some days I dress up nicely.  Mostly it is because my dress down "uniforms" are all in the laundry.  Today I ended up in a nice skirt and t-shirt with fun, strappy J-41's.  It is a sassy red and pink printed skirt that I got for just 1/3 the normal price at a spendy boutique and I love it.  The skirt is full and flares out when you twirl.  (Who doesn't love that?  When I am 90, I am going to put just one booster rocket on the side of my wheelchair so I can still twirl!)

Anyway, I ended up wearing that skirt to the "graduation" event at my kids' aerospace engineering camp.  I would like to supply some information that may help you if you are ever in this situation.  You see, airport tarmacs are breezeways even without the planes taking off and landing.  So if you step out in your sheltered, suburban front yard and think that the skirt can handle the little bit of wind today you will be wrong.  In addition to the general windiness you will be climbing up into the C-130 for a tour and there will be a wind tunnel created inside of the fuselage when every door is opened and...well...you get the idea.

My apologies to Miss M for making her hold Little C's hand the entire time (that kid is a security breach waiting to happen).  But your mama was busy trying to hold down her dignity.  (When the clean laundry is so depleted that you have to wear that skirt, you don't even want to know what was left to choose from in the under-pinnings drawer.)

(sharp inhale)

With the biggins off at camp for half the day this week I was looking forward to having some Mama time with my little one but this flu has knocked me on my butt.  And then...Little C got out his red backpack and put it on today, saying he wished he could go back to school.  

Oh, sweet child, did you mean to break my heart just a bit?

diagnosis?

I usually handle all of my own medical diagnostics.  Sometimes I check with a vet.  But tonight I am asking you all:

Is it the flu when you walk out of the dark restaurant into the evening light and your eyeballs feel like they are on FIRE and you can't open them for anything and your eyelids suddenly seem transparent so you have to ride home with your hands over your face?

How To-sday

Welcome to the inaugural installment of my first regularly scheduled feature: How To-sday.

Today's topic: How To Have Fun With an Emergent Reader 

1. Buy your little learner a joke book or pick one up at the local library.  The small, paperback kind works best so they can carry them everywhere.

2. Ask him or her to read them to you at various times during the day.  If there is a cooking section, have them read you the chef jokes while making lunch.  Perhaps they will perch on the potty and read you the bathroom jokes while you use the shower.  Chances are you won't have to ask.  They will probably just follow you to the loo while walking and reading.  Chances are, if there is a section of napping jokes they will find you with your feverish eyes tightly closed and poke you with the book until you acknowledge the joke and give up at least the hint of a laugh.

(Here comes the fun part.)

3. Being an "emergent" reader will present many opportunities for excitement and problem solving.  See, the little buggers will probably get some of the words wrong in either the joke, the punch line, or both.  I conservatively estimate that 1/3 of the jokes will make no sense because of incorrect phonetic decoding.  Try and guess what the joke was supposed to be. 

4.  Then go back to the text with the child and help them find their error(s).  You wouldn't believe how funny they find the actual jokes after having pretended to get the faulty jokes.  My little monkey was rolling on the floor!

5.  Go ahead and laugh at Junior.  The jokes provide the perfect cover!

(And if laughter really IS the best medicine, then I should be over this little bout of influenza in no time!)