state-of-the-art destructive capabilities

If by any chance you ever need your psyche crushed -- and by crushed I mean absolutely destroyed, faster and more completely than Custer riding down to greet the Sioux nation -- then just avail yourself of the services of any three year-old. Honestly. Soviet neurosurgeons would blush.

Our own master of disaster has achieved something I like to call Full Ego Boundary Pounding: everything hurts, everything is a problem and everything can be subverted.

Daddy, what is this?
That's squash.
I don't like squash.

What's this?
That's chicken.
I don't like chicken.

I want my mittens on the inside. I want my mittens on the outside. I don't want those shoes. I don't want that scarf. This scarf hurts me. My face is cold. I don't want to wear a hat. My head is cold. I'm tired. I don't want to go to school. I'm not tired. I don't want to have a nap. I don't have any pee in my body. I still have pee in my body. What are you talking about? Don't talk about that. These pants hurt me. This shirt hurts me. I want a bear. I want a doll. I want two dolls. No, I don't want any dolls! I'm not hungry. I'm full. I want dessert. I want ice cream. But I like ice cream.

And so on. Today, once we got to daycare, I put her right shoe on three times before finally just sticking her in a chair with her shoe and telling her that she could spend the entire day taking her shoe on and off, because if I didn't leave right then it would turn into that scene where the scientists introduce the Robocop prototypes.

Comments

glamour, by extension

C is friends with the fashion stylist Rebekah Roy (left in both pics above) ... one of those people who personify calm and smiling success. On her blog she presents glamour in this very sincere, straightforward way ... whether she's taking pictures of people on the street , talking about stain removers , her favourite videos , or attending some glittering party . One minute she's ruminating on hair extensions, and in the next she reveals how she's been featured on the Vogue UK site. A real disarmer and charmer (and this without meeting her yet, although I feel like I know her because we both did our time in Winnipeg). * * * * * Coming home from Russia, we did many bad things. ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. In my own life, the glamour is wholly imagined. * * * * * witches, smoke ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. My second go at this one, and for some reason I'm painting a lot of smoke lately (note to self: tell C that I want to be cremated). *

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

red-handed

Search This Blog