Archives for June 2007

I’ve Been Blogged!

After talking about how much I love the blogosphere yesterday, I was delighted to discover that it just might love me back. Check it out:

ParentDish
Sanity and the Solo Mom

Not too shabby. 🙂

Facebook

I am not on Facebook. Many of my friends and acquaintances are, including my husband. I have received some invitations, by email and verbally. And I will admit to peering over Jon’s shoulder to see the children of our high school classmates. But still, I can’t quite bring myself to sign up. Why not?

Ironically, as it turns out, I don’t like the privacy rules. I have a wide-open blog, and I post photos of my family and friends for the entire world to see. I am well aware that total strangers could read this, as could my boss, or people who I’ve angered or offended somewhere along the way. I know that my grandmother reads, and my in-laws. So I use some discretion, both in what I write and in the photos I share. I prefer things this way, sending my little missives out into the universe where anyone (all 7 of you) can read them and make of them what you will.

I myself am an avid blog-reader, and a lurker. I read and read and read the thoughts that others post online, and I very rarely chime in (probably why I have very few comments here ;-)). I enjoy keeping up with strangers and friends who have a way with words, interesting stories to share, or cool snapshots. And it’s all so very fair and democratic. There’s none of the popularity contest of who will by my friend, who will write on my wall, or worrying about whose wall I wrote on most recently. In the blogosphere I can read along, comment if I choose to, or remain anonymous. I can share my thoughts with anyone who wants to read them, and they can return the favour or not.

So, if you don’t see me on Facebook, that’s why. I may change my mind, who knows? But for now I’m happy to use this forum, where anyone who wants to find me, can.

Bionic Woman

Today is a strange sort of anniversary for me. Exactly 20 years ago I acquired a new body part – the steel plate in my right forearm.

I was in grade 5 on that sunny June day when I broke my arm. It started out well, a day when school was winding down for the year. My class was supposed to go to the pool that afternoon, which I was looking forward to. In fact, as I recall the nurses later cut my bathing suit at the shoulder, since I had been wearing it under my clothes. At lunchtime I was playing on the monkey bars, taking part in a game that I frankly knew was dangerous. Although, I didn’t understand exactly how dangerous until I opened my eyes and saw that my arm was at an odd sort of angle.

I went into surgery and they set my arm that evening, and then I spent a week in the hospital on IV antibiotics to avoid a bone infection. Less than a week after I was discharged I was back at the hospital having X-rays, and they found that my bones hadn’t set properly. I went into surgery, and they attached the plate and re-cast my arm. I kept that cast for two months, almost the whole summer.

I still have that plate today. No, it doesn’t set off metal detectors, although I can feel it under my skin. And, my arm will never be quite the same again. For 20 years, though, this has been a part of me. One of the many experiences that I carry around, day to day, as I make my way through the world.

Flight of my Bumblebees

A few weeks ago, I let you all know about the bumblebees that had set up house in my compost heap. At the time, I was concerned about the state of my compost, and the state of the bees.

Since then, I have discovered that in spite of the many injunctions that you Must Stir Compost, almost nobody actually does this. In fact, my mother in law (the best gardener I know) also has bumblebees in her compost. So clearly, they are a sign of distinction, a badge of honour.

All the same, we’ve had some very on-and-off weather, so the bees have been in hiding. It was not immediately clear to me whether they survived the horrible scare I gave them. I am happy to report that as of today, I saw several bees flying in and out of the little slits in the composter. It seems that the bees are happy, the flowers are happy, and my compost is not suffering appreciably in the process.

Caveat Emptor

A few weeks ago Jon and I decided to visit a new grocery store. By ‘new’, I mean almost a year old, of course. In that year we kept talking about how we should go, it just took us that long to get around to it. What? We have a 2-year-old, this is just the sort of excitement that fills our lives.

As it turns out, the store was lovely, and fulfilled all of our expectations. It was smaller, but had a wide assortment of fabulous food, and I was enraptured. It was in this state that I happened across some beautiful cherries.

Hannah saw the cherries, and asked for some. When my kid wants fruit or veggies, who am I to say no? Plus, they looked really good. Filled with heady shopping excitement, it didn’t occur to me to check the price until I hit the parking lot. I have to say the cherries seemed a whole lot less beautiful at $11.50. They cost several dollars more than my expensive contact solution. Eep!

Oh well, at least someone enjoyed them.

Party all Night

Just a quick note to say that I’m here, but I’m having a hard time writing much of anything. My child has decided that 10:00 is a fine bedtime. Since I have sewing to do, I disagree. My opinion matters little, though, since there’s no way to make someone sleep.

I have high hopes that bedtime will revert back to a more human hour when we’re not days away from the summer solstice. I love the daylight, but unfortunately, so does my kid.

Why You’re all Here

I try to witty and clever, and write varied and interesting posts. Sometimes I’m more successful than others. Still, I know the reason you’re all here. It’s to see new photos of Hannah. Or, maybe, (and I flatter myself greatly) you want to see my latest projects.

So, sometimes, all I do is give you what you’re after. 😉

Child, crackers, and rhododendrons

Looking for baby crabs

Improvised wrap in Silk Maiden

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