Letter of Appreciation, Kinda

Dear Parents caring for other people’s adult children:

As you know, many parents have young adults who return home for summer. And yet, we rarely see them. Instead (whether you like it or not) you do.

Firstly, thank you. For feeding them. For cleaning up after them. For loaning them a couch. Speaking of surrogate-type parenting, thanks also to their employers. University/College is expensive and we are grateful they have these jobs. Plus we suspect that you employers are also good guides and mentors. However, unlike you, we cannot pay them to hang out with us (or at least we’d prefer not to).  Thus we are stuck with those rare sightings when they randomly return to shower, or drop off their laundry, recharge something, and then there was that one time when we made bacon and they suddenly appeared.

Sigh. Related to this, my wife and I request a small favour and we thank you in advance. Since you are more likely to encounter our kids, please share any or all of the following questions/reminders whenever you deem it appropriate:

1.  Hey you. I heard you have parents.

2.  And I know for a fact they have Wi-Fi.  

3.  Your parents want to know: what are your thoughts on

a.       Current events?

b.      That latest movies?

c.       Pluto’s adorable heart?

d.      Cheese? (All of the above, pretty much anything, they’re open.)

4.  If they cooked more bacon, would you go home?

5.  Would blackmail work? Because let’s be honest, they know A LOT about your past.

6.  Is another tattoo/piercing really necessary? (Throwing this in there, just in case.)

7.   I’m pretty sure tomorrow is Fathers/Mothers/Parents/Hug-Someone-Who-Shares-Your-DNA/Family Guilt Day.

8.  If a parent texts you in the forest, does it make a sound argument not to text back?

9.  Here’s a picture of your Mother weeping. 

10.  Get out. 

All of the above.

I'm pretty sure the dust bunny my wife and I found under the dresser in our bedroom

a. was mere weeks away from sprouting legs.
b. has something to do with Donald Trump.
c. is the same shape as Pluto's heart! Aww. (aka pareidolia).
d. needs a coffee, STAT.

Superstitions?

According to all reliable sources, here’s the proof:

     1.    Superstitions come in threes.

     2.    Especially when you walk under a ladder.

     3.    Even worse on Friday the 13^th.

     4.    But, knock on wood, there is a solution:

     5.    Eat an apple; it keeps the doctor away.

     6.    However, it’s unclear which type of doctor: my hope is that it refers to plastic surgeons.

     7.    Speaking of distorted faces, go ahead and drop a mirror. Why? Who needs luck for the better part of a decade? Kidding…the number seven is lucky so mirror-tossing actually has a reverse effect. Boom.

8.    All four-leaf clovers are stored at the end of the rainbow.

9.    When black cats cross your path don’t look away in fear or you will miss the chickens on their backs: that’s how they cross the road. Fingers crossed. (Side-note: sometimes they step on cracks. Sorry Moms.)

10. Itchy palms mean forthcoming mail related to money, sometimes debits, sometimes credits, or maybe the phone is going to ring or maybe your ears will ring because someone mentioned you on social media. (This one’s still confusing to me because I don’t have Facebook.)

11. Find a penny, pick it up, all day long, you’ll have a penny. Uh oh…this only works outside of Canada.

12. Every sixth Friday at dawn, animals can talk. (A cat told me this.)

13. Problems are easy to solve if you’re an idiot, am I right?

You might be thinking: what is all this horseshoe? Sorry for all the silliness. What motivates superstitions? Why do we humans think and do all these irrational things? Psychologists relate this behavior to the “uncertainty hypothesis.” This is the idea that when people are unsure about the outcome of a situation, they try to find a way to control it. These control-methods may be odd. Nevertheless, they sometimes provide the mental boost needed to trick ourselves into perseverance mode so we can push through fear of the unknown. Or here’s another way to deal: just think rationally. Um, not so easy for us humans, is it? So friends...keep stepping on spiders and throwing salt if you need to. Either way, something will happen. 

Things one should never outgrow:

noticing when nature seems to pose.

"Leave nothing but footprints. Take nothing but pictures. Kill nothing but time." -unknown

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

painting mishaps. And this was my favourite screwdriver. Every guy has a favourite screwdriver, right?

Blink

I've been struggling to write. And to read. Begin my July projects. Master something. Create something new. Relax. It's the starting. The struggle is to start. I keep dismissing the start. I'm doing it again right now.

I have no more and no less hours each day than every other person on Earth. So what's the deal? Starting. Starting is the problem.

Above my desk is a sticky note, a reminder: after a devastating stroke, Jean-Dominique Bauby wrote his memoirs using only his left eye. Blink after blink. Wow. Considering this, how could I possibly whine for one more second?

And yet, I still can't start. I think it's doubt. Honestly. Self-doubt. Does everyone forget sometimes how to start? I was surprised when I found myself in the kitchen today to cook. There was a time when I cooked every night but I can't recall, before today, the last thing I cooked.

I made rice. I chopped onions. I toasted peanuts. I made a salad dressing. Added together, they made a meal. I guess that's something at least.

Recently my wife gave me a leather-bound journal. It's a beautiful thing to someone like me. The paper is hand-made, the binding hand-stitched. A note inside from the artist suggests using the book as "my personal book of wisdom." I like that idea. I'd like to draw in it too. And yet, I can't start. And I'm worried I will somehow ruin it.

There's that self-doubt again.

Like Bauby, I must figure out how to begin again. What other choice is there? And I will choose. I know I will. One blink at a time. I just did. I guess that's something.

Things that deserve the stink-nose:

I know a guy who needs this so I bought it for him.

Don't ask. (But oh the stories I could tell.)

Canada Day?

Posing with a tourist not long before he was
killed here in Ottawa last October.

Canada day this year? In my opinion, there are only two words: Nathan Cirillo. He was 24 years old and literally, Nathan stood on guard for thee. 

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Do spruce bugs deserve mercy?

My son and I hate them. They are huge and evil and I once fell off a ladder after one landed on me. I may have screamed like a toddler. Because they bite. Hard. Plus I know a guy whose face got ripped off by one. And another guy who mowed off his own leg trying to avoid one. I don't own a gun and frankly, never would, but if I ever did, I would likely choose a Glock and I would use it to annihilate spruce bugs for ruining our wondrous outdoors.

Have a nice day.

Things one should never outgrow:

Although still delicious, pop rocks don't look the same as they did when I was a kid because, well, Breaking Bad. Nevertheless, although addictive, they are thankfully not blue meth, and therefore I believe they are still part of a healthy breakfast (lunch, supper, whatever). Folks, it's just common sense. And even though I'm no longer eleven, it still sounds like laughter feels when I put them all in my mouth at once. Highly recommend. (No pun intended there Walter White fans.)