in with the old

we just returned from a whirlwind trip to BC, and i'm still feeling a little spinney.  the first few days were spent in washington, with scott's parents, at a time share in port townsend.  have you ever been there?  it's on the olympic peninsula - where coincidentally 'forks' also resides, but not to worry, i did not glimpse either a vampire, werewolf or sulking teenage girl.  the town is filled with architecture from the late 1800s, beautiful little shops, a couple lighthouses (one of which i was told you could rent for an evening), and many thrift stores chock-a-block full of rich peoples discards.  bliss! 

i have never been one for antiques.  my father versed me from an early age on the philosophy "why buy something old when you can get it new?".  i have this dear friend, however, who is winning me over to the old side.  her house (yes, lindsey, i'm talking about you here) is filled with little treasures snagged from garage sales or small town thrift.  every time i enter i take some time to walk around, feasting on the eye candy of little vignettes positioned just so - an antique vase with a fern planted in it beside a snow-globe-like-object containing a small plastic deer, a sea shell and a cloth covered book.  i look at that dear little deer, caught forever behind glass, and think 'how did she know'?  i never would have seen the possibility of greatness. 

but, i thought i'd give it a shot this week and i think that, for my first foray into an antique store (with the intention of buying something) i came out alright!  i bought four little student slates - those personal black boards students would use before paper was cheap.  i'm going to use them as place mats - i did tonight in fact.  and i wrote out the menu on one of them.  why not?  my daughter tried to read it off as the "big reveal" of dinner, but she didn't add enough theatrics so i had to take over.  "just to give you the general idea" i explained.  i can picture beatrice potter walking around lindsey's house and then running off in a fit of inspiration.  it's one of my favourite places in saskatoon (the fact that it's inhabited by one of my favourite people might also have something to do with it).

on the weekend two people referred to me as "lovely".  separately.  let me be clear - to different people at separate times told me that i'm "lovely".  what a treat!! i had that scene from downton abby play out in my mind, where edith says "if you think i'm going to let a man go who's called me "lovely" you're mistaken!" (or something to that effect).  it was on the tip of my tongue, but since i was complimented by a man that i hardly knew, it was a little too chancy. 

my my, i must be maturing -  thought before action!!! 

there is something sublime about being referred to by the word, like you've been transported back to an age when affirmations were a little higher brow.  i mean, usually i hear things like "dang girl!  you look hot in that skirt!".  "lovely" has a much more eloquent ring. 

truth be told, i'll take any positive affirmation that even flies close to me.
sadly, the same can probably be said about the opposite.  ah, well, one giant step towards maturity at a time, thank you very much.  i need to leave some room for growth in my 40s.

love and ashes

does anyone else think it's a little incongruous to have ash wednesday the day before valentines?  a feast of sacrifice before a celebration of romance?  true, tomorrow is named after a saint, but i'm having a hard time finding much information about mr. valentine except for:
a) there are many saints which carry the name valentine, and a few of them died on Feb. 14th (note:  if you are a dedicated Catholic, prone to miracles and with the last name "Valentine", make sure your life insurance policy is up to date immediately)
b) he tried to convert the emporer Claudius, and was beheaded for the attempt.

here's the most interesting tidbit i found:

Saints are not supposed to rest in peace; they're expected to keep busy: to perform miracles, to intercede. Being in jail or dead is no excuse for non-performance of the supernatural. One legend says, while awaiting his execution, Valentinus restored the sight of his jailer's blind daughter. Another legend says, on the eve of his death, he penned a farewell note to the jailer's daughter, signing it, "From your Valentine."

St. Valentine was a Priest, martyred in 269 ... He is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, greetings, happy marriages, love, lovers, plague, travellers, young people. He is represented in pictures with birds and roses.

 

lovers, happy marriages, plague and epilepsy.  these saints don't dissapoint!  i wonder what i would be the patron saint of?  clean bathrooms, cheese, loud laughter and paint stains.  represented in pictures with norwex cloths and boursin.

 

scott asked me what i'm giving up for Lent.  i told him i'm giving up giving up.  for some reason i feel strongly that someone who is already off of all sugar, SURELY should not be required to sacrifice more!  but, what i really mean, is that i'm going to stop the fatalistic mood swings i am prone to in this sugar-free journey.  for 40 days i'm hoping to give up despair.

 

 

my mother-in-law sent me a link to a delightful little blog (www.sisterssuitcaseblog.com) for valentine craft ideas.  they have free templates to download, and i couldn't resist this one that says "we go together like _______________ & _____________".  you put it in a frame and use a dry erase marker to keep changing the blanks.  well, i came downstairs one morning and was greeted with this

 

can you read that?  it says "bella & edward".  now, tell me, did i not marry the right man for me?  that is just the right amount of cheesy and ridiculous, and yet, suprisingly meaningful to me! (sigh, love me in my lameness). later i noticed he had changed it to "jacob and renesmee", but i think that was going a little too far. 

 

 

well friends, i hope that the patron saint of fainting finds you swooning in love tomorrow - or that your Lenten journey begins with a day brimming with love from your God.   personally,  i'm hoping for both!

 

retro

i walked into the school today, little boy in tow, and was perusing the lost and found table when the vice principle came up to me.
"i hear you have crabs" he said.

first thought:  'it's just a yeast infection!'  praise you Lord Jesus that this thought did not escape through my lips.

second thought: 'who's spreading this rumour about me?'
i replied with a very dignified "WHAT?!"

he looked at my face, began to register what had just been said, and quickly stammered "crabs in your house!  crabs in your house!"

ah, yes.  our pets.  we have hermit crabs and my kids brought them to school yesterday for show and tell.  i said to this quickly reddening school administrator "we call them HERMIT crabs, not just crabs".

i walked away thinking who can i tell?  who can i tell?  you!!  i love it when life reads like a novel.

i've been thinking lately about how my young years must appear to my children.  no internet.  i mean, i can hardly fathom it myself!  we had to actually go to libraries and look through encyclopedias to find out answers to trivia, and use dictionaries to check word spelling.  we had to spell!  and at the library we used microfiche to look at old periodicals - which sounds very spy-tech, but was really extremely boring.  i typed my papers on a typewriter.  i struggled with the white-out - the strangely repulsive and alluring smell....could i really get high from it?  i took drafting and gleefully laid out my rulers and mechanical pencils.  marks for penmenship - i'm in heaven!

my parents did not think it was right to own a VCR - they were also led to believe that movie theatres were filled with drunken smokers and would surely lead me down the path to hell.  imagine their surprise when i told them it was smoke free and that the most dangerous drink item was jolt!  anyways, obviously i didn't see many movies as a kid, which is why i was ALWAYS the last one to sleep at slumber parties.  i was the one to swoon over ralph macchio and then turn off the VCR, then the lights, and pick my way over the sleeping bodies to my blankets.  how could they all miss it? 

we would rent a VCR player (beta or vhs?) from the local video store for birthday parties.  i remember walking in, so excited and giddy to be on this threshold of maturity, and my mother said "look in the section over there - R - for religious".  so, over to the R section my little body goes - i'm probably 10? - and i start looking at the movies.  i quickly start to recognize my mother has made a horrible terrible mistake.  i'm looking at the backs of the boxes - yikes!  in those days if something was rated R, they meant it.  my mom finally came over to me (she'd been renting the machine) and, as well quite quickly, saw her error.  wrong section!  wrong section!!

we owned a car phone - which i remember as this box that sat on the hump on the floor between the seats of the car (what happened to that hump?) with a phone that looked like an army walkie-talkie.  i'm curious to know if that is actually true, was the phone actually that humungous?  no, on second thought, i'd rather believe it, even if it is a lie.  i had this sneaking suspiscion that my dad was no ordinary accountant - what accountant would have a car phone?   something so sleek and cutting-edge... he must be CIA. 

i wonder if my kids think of me like i thought of my mom when i heard she had an outhouse as a child.  like i grew up in "the olden days", in a world so far from this one, how could i ever understand what they're going through?  i'm sure the fact that i'm not on facebook isn't helping.  i mean, in all honesty, i think of life before PVR and i wonder, how did i cope?

on that note, Downton Abby has left me crying two weeks in a row, and i've decided i'd like to be referred to as "darling".  why not embrace my old-timer self?

i suddenly have a hankering to make a mix tape.  with "nothing compares to you" on it at least twice.  i'd make you a copy but my white ghetto blaster with the "fast dub" option is, i believe, in my parents garage.  was it really called a ghetto blaster?  were they invented in the ghetto?

okay, i'm not sure how to end this blog, because, as i'm sure you're realizing, i could just go on and on.  so, there.  i'm stopping.