I miss when...

#buthelookssohappy
Image from here.

I didn't know what trans fat was.

My entire day in six words:

Another chip out of my windshield.

Things one should never outgrow:

the yawn and stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-tch theatre move.

It's a classic.

Solving Life's Mysteries

You fellow bloggers and readers are so good to me. Thank you. And you. And you. And you. And you too. And also you. And most recently, you for inviting me to share seven of my posts in these categories:

1. A beauty of a post. (Irony intended.)

2. A popular post.

3. A controversial post. (My wife still doesn't know.)

4. A helpful post.

5. A surprisingly successful post.

6. I chose a total dud of a post instead of a post that deserves more attention.

7. A post I am proud of.

I tend to resist doing this sort of thing. It feels awkward. My rewards are truly the posts you share with me (and the world) every day. That's what I need instead. Your words help me with all my struggles, ongoing and temporary. You are my escape and my therapy. You are like the Hardy Boys series I read when I was a kid (minus the racism). I couldn't wait for the next book to arrive in the mail. But instead you come to my laptop almost everyday. With pictures. And insight. And hilarity. And swear words.

So readers, go here and here and here. In fact, click any word anywhere in this sentence and go someplace the Hardy Boys never even imagined, places where most of life's mysteries can be solved (or at least forgotten for a while).

Things one should never outgrow:

Saturday Night Live!

I've been watching since forever. The Church Lady. The Motivational Speaker. The Spartan Cheerleaders. Mary Katherine Gallagher. The Lemon Sisters. So many.

Sure, some skits tank but oftentimes it's quite obvious that being an SNL writer is one sweet job. I wonder: what will Kristen Wiig and Alec Baldwin do next?

Wordfuse (Itchin' Edition)

rant + antsy = rantsy (adjective): anxious, apprehensive, or jittery to a degree that one can barely repress the desire to criticize, disparage or down-right slam someone who so needs it (aka bite one's tongue while the asshole at the table blathers on ad nauseum).

Things that are most likely the devil:

About the size of quarters.
*visualizes one frying right through my tongue*

Look carefully at these tiny peppers? Does anyone recognize them?

My wife grew them but she can't remember what they're called. They look innocent but I am convinced they are irrefutably evil. We all know that the smaller the pepper, the hotter the pepper. We think they might be habaneros. We're afraid. Very afraid. Mostly because of the time my wife wiped her nose after chopping jalapenos and had to shove her face in an ice bath.





#whatnow?
#whydidmywifegrowthese?
#oneofthesekilledpeterpiper
#overwhelmingdesiretopoponeinmymouth
#whoisstupidenough?
#weareafraiddorks
#wecanadiansgetfreakedoutbyexcessiveheat
#maybewearewrong?
#arethesepeppersactuallyinnocuous?
#firstworldproblems

Hardest Hue to Hold

A happy family?

Caution: I'm in a serious mood.

I love this photo. The young woman is my Grandmother. It's probably 1945, early Spring. She's in her early twenties. The child on the bike is my Mom. The little boy pointing is her older brother.

Don't they look carefree? Don't they look happy? This is a photo of a happy family.

Or is it? Sometimes it takes 40 years to learn a lesson.

My Grandmother gave me this photo about five years ago. I scanned all her photos and feel privileged to have them. As far as I know, she gave them only to me. It's the special sort of relationship we have. It's a special bond we have.

At first, I dismissed this photo seeking the close-ups in Grandma's collection. But then I returned to it and noticed how beautifully it told a story. My Grandma's easy-going nature seems evident to me in the way she uses just one hand to balance her toddler daughter on that adult bike. My mother's characteristic determination seems evident already. Who or what is my uncle pointing at? Is something tied to the bike functioning like a sled? Who snapped the photo?

Not my Grandfather. As I understand it, he was still stationed in Montreal at the time, doing his part in World War 2.

I need to ask my Grandmother all these questions. Before it's too late.

And yet, what does it really matter?

This is not a photo of a happy family. I'm finally realizing the myth of the happy family. Sure, my Grandma's little family looks happy in this photo but she must have been missing her husband, she must have been tired of raising demanding kids alone. Plus I know the future for this family. Both my Mom and her as yet unborn sister would be pregnant teen brides. My uncle would die before he turned 40. And his son would die before he turned 40. Many tears yet to shed.

When I struggle with being a good father and a good husband and a good man, I think I must learn to remember the myth of the happy family. My little family has had so many happy years. So many blessings. Naively, I assumed that would always be. I should have remembered Robert Frost's caution: "nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold."

There are no happy families. No one is perfect. Nothing lasts forever. Like my Grandmother's photo, there are only happy family moments. And some days, I take what I can get.

Things that deserve the stink eye:

left-over Kraft Dinner.

Does anyone eat left-over KD? A quick comfort-food staple in Canada, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is loved by teens and it's the perfect cheap food for University students. It's also reputed to cure hangovers. But the next day?

The next day I'd say it's more like crapt dinner.

#craptdinner
#rubberbullets
#congealed
#carbsaremostlikelythedevil
#firstworldproblems

The Little Things

The green icing is in
honour of the
Saskatchewan Roughriders.

It's just a good day when an unexpected cupcake gift appears. Especially when said cupcake is hiding marshmallow fluff and whipped cream inside.

Yup. That's the kind of day I had. How was yours?