Tuesday, November 14, 2023

Miscellaneous Things That Happened in Early November

I was heating up some oil in the frying pan. I don’t know when the spider crawled in. Maybe it was there the whole time? That’s the unsettling thing about spiders: sometimes they were there the whole time and you didn't know. They are so small. But they are also so terrifying that once you do notice one, you can’t imagine how it was ever in your immediate vicinity without setting all of your internal alarms off. 

So I accidentally fried this spider, is what I’m saying, in avocado oil. And for some reason, I can’t stop picturing it. 

Very unsettling.


I went and saw the Dogman musical with Sully (and Julia and Charlie). Dav Pilkey really is smart, isn't he? I mean, look past the poop jokes: he had my generation captivated by Captain Underpants and is still, almost three decades later, creating the most relevant content there is for the elementary school-aged crowd. And then he goes and makes it into a musical, and sneaks in references from Charles Dickens, so that me and my nine-year-old son could sit and enjoy a night at the theatre together and every few minutes, Sully’d lean in and excitedly whisper something like, “That line is from Tale of Two Kitties!” And I’d whisper back, “It’s actually a line from A Tale of Two Cities!” And we bonded over a shared love of literature and drama and Sully didn’t think it was totally lame and, maybe even more surprisingly, neither did I! Thanks, Dav!


I was sick on Monday, and the kids were home from school for the stat holiday. I stayed in bed for most of the day and the kids hung out with Barclay—it feels like a rare and beautiful thing to get to sleep off sickness as a mother. But I did, with mostly no interruptions. 

The only one came at some point in the afternoon. I don't know what time it was; I was swimming around in light unconsciousness when a small noise pulled me up, almost to the surface. I was aware of a quiet creaking sound, and then little feet, almost silent on the floor. I didn't open my eyes, assuming that one of the kids was coming to see if I was awake, to announce that their feelings had been hurt or they needed help with something. I anticipated someone shaking me awake, talking too loud directly into my ear. But instead of a voice, there were just tiny spaghetti arms, quickly wrapping around me and then just as quickly withdrawing. More almost-silent footsteps and then the quiet creak of the door again. 

Just a quick hug. Best part of my day.


Barclay and I started watching Taxi; we found it on one of those free streaming services online. We also started listening to an audiobook of The Great Gatsby, and the link between the two is that Andy Kaufman is both an actor in Taxi and was known for being able to recite the entire text of The Great Gatsby

(I'm obsessed with finding the link between things. There is always a link.)


As I wrote that last sentence, I started wondering if there is a link between Taxi, Dogman, The Great Gatsby, and fried spiders—and then I realized the answer was obvious: it's me. 

I am, as of the writing of this blog post, the link between Taxi, Dogman, The Great Gatsby, and fried spiders. 

So, see? I was right. There is always a link. 



Thursday, November 02, 2023

Immortalized in Newsprint

About eight years ago, I pulled off a very nice parallel park on McIntyre Street. There were two older gentlemen sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the road right in front of my parking spot and they applauded as I exited my vehicle. No one minds being clapped for, and so began a weird little friendship. I saw them every single Tuesday, until one day they just weren’t there anymore and I never saw them again. 

Sometimes I’ll drive down McIntyre Street and glance at their spot, wondering if one or both of them might reappear, but they haven’t yet. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to write about them and send my little story to The Globe and Mail, as one does, and today it was in the paper.

The best part about the whole thing is the sweet little illustration accompanying the article, by someone named Marley Allen-Ash. There’s me, hanging out of my nicely-parked car! There’s Sully, grinning in the front seat even though he is only two and shouldn’t really be in the front seat, Marley! And there are Harold and Harv, my good friends who I will probably never see again but who are now immortalized in newsprint with Sully and me and their sweet old dog.

You can read it here.