I
survived kindergarten (see Friday's post below) although
it is abundantly clear that some parents soak
their children's heads in espresso before they trot
them off to school.
p.s.
Thanks to Cindy, who sent me the means to have the best
superhotmilkandvanilladrink EVER. Sweeeet luxury. I
drank it in bed while reading a book about Information
Management. That was a mistake. After four minutes I
needed toothpicks to keep my eyes propped open.
p.s.
This week is March Break. You know what THAT means.
It's not the parents who get a break, that's for sure.
p.s.
Speaking of survival, I drove to my mum's and back on
Saturday.
p.s.
did I tell you I'm actually writing an article about
chocolate? Ha!
More
coming later...
a
<friday
march 12, 2004 - 8:18 a.m.>
Sarah
was up early again this morning. I feel like a refugee
from the Valley of the Dead. She was in a bad mood and
cried for nearly the whole hour before she left the
house.
Send
me your best vibes between the hours of 12:00 and 2:30
p.m. I will be the helper mom in Emma's kindergarten
class and need all the strength I can muster. Emma
has already reminded me not to forget my shoes. :)
From
my vantage point here at the rec centre I can see down
into the swimming pool on the first level. One of the
instructors has an unusual image tattooed on his upper
arm -- an image I have always liked but cannot imagine
having it permanently imprinted on my (or anyone's)
body: Ceci
n'est pas une Pipe by Magritte.
-
The
other day Mark and I returned to the car after our dinner
at the Urban Bistro on Wellington. We had parked in
front of a bridal shop. As I waited for Mark to unlock
the door I took a look into the store window. A cranberry/orange
wedding dress had caught my eye. It stood out like a
tangerine in a snowy field, it was so beautiful.
It
was dark, the store would probably be closing soon.
Inside, a young woman was trying on a sleek white gown.
She was looking at herself in a three-way mirror, surrounded
by a handful of friends and sales girls, some of whom
were sitting on steps at her feet. They were chatting
and laughing. She swished her dress this way and that
in front of the mirror. At one point they saw me watching,
and turned and smiled. The happiness on their faces
was a sight to behold, even more illuminating than the
cranberry dress I had been admiring. I gave the bride
a thumbs up - a stranger's opinion doesn't mean much,
but
we
all
laughed at the joke and the strange wordless exchange.
but
we
all
laughed at the joke and the strange wordless exchange.
