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<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"I was at the mall with Fresco yesterday. He wanted a ride on the Cars car so I said, sure, go ahead, ride it.
\nHe said, but but but but but but but but (this is a new thing. It is quite irritating) MOMMY. I need a loonie.
\n(that’s a dollar for all you non-Canadians)
\nI said, well, I don’t have a loonie. Present company excepted. Har. Har.
\nHe said, Oh MOMMMMMY.
\nI said, oh look here, I have found a pretend loonie. <\/p>\n
I pretended to put the pretend coin in the slot. I pressed the button. I said, vroom! Vroom! <\/p>\n
And the ride started for real!<\/p>\n
Virtual internet HIGH FIVE I am the best parent on the PLANET.<\/p>\n
Speaking of which, does anyone else ever just want to get the kids buckled into their car seats and then walk away? Not *far* away, just…across the parking garage of our building, maybe. To check the mail.<\/p>\n
Getting into our car goes like this, please add your own echo because we are underground:<\/p>\n
Scream scream scream
\nyell yell yell
\nshove push yell shove push yell
\nscream cry cry cry scream
\nbuckle
\nbuckle
\ndoor slam
\ndoor slam<\/p>\n
silence.<\/p>\n
I am not the only one, I know I’m not. Sometimes when SA and I get the kids in the car, we close the doors and have lovely, normal-voiced conversations across the roof while the children’s mouths squawk and wail. Sometimes we don’t even talk, we just stand there. Because we can.<\/p>\n
I went to the Vancouver International Writers Festival at Granville Island on Sunday. I spent the whole day there. I went to a workshop in the morning with Lynda Barry of Ernie Pook’s Comeek fame and she taught us fun writing techniques. She was hilarious and adorable and I was reminded of the first time I saw Ani DiFranco play; it was the same sort of irrepressible, squeezable energy. <\/p>\n
Then I had lunch and then spent an hour and a half listening to short story writers talk about short stories. It was quite an awesome day. I only talked to two people the entire time. Wait, three. But I smiled a lot. <\/p>\n
People didn’t really smile back because it was raining and rain makes people on Granville Island sad. It makes them wince and run for shelter. I felt vindicated because I had worn boots and a raincoat, anticipating rain and then when I was on my way there the sun started to come out and I was all, really? I am wearing rain clothes and the sun is coming out? So when the rain started to pour from the sky like some kind of movie special effect I just put up my hood and splashed in the puddles and smiled more.<\/p>\n
You know one thing about staying at home with kids that had never occurred to me until Sunday? My shoes are rarely on for longer than two hours at a time. Ever. I was on the bus coming back and suddenly I realized I had been wearing my boots for 8 hours. My feet hurt. I wanted to take my boots off. But you shouldn’t take your boots off on the bus. <\/p>\n
One of the questions asked of the short story panel was something like “where do you get your ideas” and the writers all said “we eavesdrop and notice things” which I didn’t find particularly revelatory but then – I did, actually, find it revelatory because I realized that if someone was asking the question that meant there were people in the world who *didn’t* eavesdrop and notice things.<\/p>\n
KeanuWoah.<\/p>\n
Really. Not everyone is inspecting everyone else for minute details. Not everyone is storing seemingly meaningless information like squirrels hide nuts.<\/p>\n
I mean, of course. Everyone is different, processes information differently, takes in what they consider to be relevant, and so on. It is how we survive, otherwise our brains would go ka-boom!<\/p>\n
What this means is: 90% of the people on the bus didn’t even know I was there, let alone notice that I was tall and had sore feet and wore a simple wedding band but no other jewelry except the skull ring on my right hand and I had kind of bad hair and a rain jacket that was very practical and that I carried an old, frumpy metallic purse with a red spiral-bound notebook in it, in which I was writing things, probably things about the guy across from me.<\/p>\n
Lots of people are not writers and they just don’t give a damn. There are also, probably, writers who don’t give a damn. It is much easier to assume that no one gives a damn than to assume, as I have been doing, that everyone does.<\/p>\n
Next time I am taking my shoes off on the bus. That’ll give you something for your spiral notebook, weird scribbling lady. <\/p>\n
Oh, wait.
\nNevermind.<\/p>\n
(psst. Stop talking.)<\/i><\/p>\n
I was at the mall with Fresco yesterday. He wanted a ride on the Cars car so I said, sure, go ahead, ride it. He said, but but but but but but but but (this is a new thing. It … Continue reading <\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"