I can be walking along quite contentedly, letting my mind wander a bit, maybe having a nice conversation with an imaginary friend when WHAM outta nowhere I have an entire, wonderful blog post jump into my head. But unfortunately my brain bandwidth must be very wide because the thoughts that go into that composition get absolutely and utterly jumbled by the time it comes around to sitting down in front of a keyboard to squeeze all those thoughts into my laptop. Such it was with my last post. Rest assured the original post - the now imaginary post - was quite witty, and pithy, with nary a hint of melancholy.

One of those blog posts that is still only existing in my head is about the puppy that we got last fall: Blaze. Who is almost six months old, and probably about 42 lbs by now and a (mostly) great addition to the household. I say mostly because -- just like anything that is part of Real Life -- it isn't always good. Fill in your own personal favourite Life Phrase here. Sometimes he's work; sometimes he's play. (oooh, that's a good one, huh? ...think I'll keep that one)

The best thing is, I get to take him for walks at our local dog park. Where I'm forced to get out into the fresh air. At least five days a week. He's able to go off-leash at this park so he gets a good run and there is much frivolity and he is very happy. I've been amazed at how good these walks have been for me, truth be told. We've had a good winter here, and there seems to have been lots of sunshine for my beleaguered neurons: more seratonin is a good thing. At least for me.

44

I'm bidding farewell to 44 today. 45 years ago it was Pancake Tuesday, and my Mom was hungry enough after giving birth to have an entire pancake breakfast but the nurses told her that she needed to stick to tea and toast. (I think my Mom hates tea and toast to this day.)

4 is my favourite number, and a year ago I wondered how 44 would fare. A trip to Europe, getting a puppy, and attending part of the Vancouver2010 Olympics...? it fared very, very well. (and I may end up adding 'figuring out my food insensitivities' to this list...)

Sometimes I wish I had the ability to press a small button on my temple and take a snapshot of what my eyes are seeing. (Don't you?) Until science catches up with me I'm forced to stand there and tell myself to 'remember this' in hopes of recalling the picture later.

Snapshots like last weekend, walking the dog with Neal and Maeve and a friend. The kids are hiding in a copse of young trees, climbed up into the entangled branches, calling the dog. I can't really see them, but I can hear them giggling and calling out across the snow. Blaze is bounding through and around trying to find them.

And, following my son's 'look!' comment to see another plane pass by underneath us while we're in the air. It's contrail is perpendicular to ours.

Or, looking in the rearview mirror and catching a passing glance between Maeve and Neal. Sometimes it's a giggle, sometimes a glower.

I hesitate to proclaim this, but I think this may have been my favourite year so far.That digital camera implant would've really come in handy.

the enabler

I grew up in a household headed by a father who proclaimed that the bathroom was NOT a library. You do your business, and then leave the room. (Although I admit to stealing some private time, dallying occasionally when the kids were really small.) Having a magazine rack in one's toilet to hold the reading material was akin to leaving your rusting truck in the driveway up on cinderblocks.

I'm not as quite a stickler as my dad, but we don't really have a habit in this house of preparing for a restroom visit by finding a book or choosing a section of the paper to accompany us. So imagine my surprise recently when I opened the bathroom door to come face to, ummmm face with my son, book on his lap.

Both of my children love to read; which is great. Great, great, great. Don't get me wrong in any way, I'm not commenting on his obsession. I was just very surprised. He was kind of embarrassed. But he's obviously enjoying this series.

So much so that he begged me to go to Chapters as soon as they open this morning, purchase the next book in the series, and then deliver it to him at school. In time for first nutrition break. Please, please, pah-leeeesse...????

Yes. Yes, I did.

as it is written

I have a great lasagna recipe that I copied from my sis. It's dead easy, and three outta four family members agree that it tastes really, really good. (the fourth? sigh... she was SUCH a good eater when she was a baby. I thought it was gonna be easy. What happened??)

The only issue I have with this recipe is that it encourages dissension. If I make it with anybody else around, I have to contend with comments from the naysayers. I spend the entire casserole construction time calmly reassuring the nonbelievers.

"you don't precook your noodles...?!"

"350F won't cook that in an hour"

"that's not enough noodle layers"

And then everyone enjoys dinner (except the fourth) with incredulous comments about how good it is. Yes, it is.

Your welcome. And next time, just trust in the recipe.

channelling my Grup*

When my Mom was my age, I was in my mid-teens. At that age she was as foreign to me as... umm well... as a foreigner! We lived in different worlds, more so then than any other time in our lives I believe.

I don't really know what she was busy with. Like I said I was in my mid-teens and very busy being a teenager. Great job, great boyfriend, great happy music (it was after all the 80s). My band of choice? The Police, of course. And anything alternative, edgy, funky. It was New Wave for me mostly; no mainstream Top 40 for this music snob. My Mom? Who knows... I do recall a Children's Protest against Zamfir, this pan flute player. My Mom and her friends had a couple of albums of his and it got so bad that me and my sisters started chanting "Down with Zamfir! Down with Zamfir!" to drown it out whenever she had the audacity to put it on. My Dad listened to classical or marching bands and at one time wanted to get Muzak piped into the house. I kid you not.

We had such different musical tastes, to say the very least.

I still listen to alternative music. And when my daughter was 2 yrs old she exclaimed 'Mummy, it's Weeeeeezer!!' one day from the backseat. I know there's no equivalent interaction between me and my Mom. Oh, now wait... maybe there is. My first album as a child was Andy Williams when I was six, apparently. (I used to croon Moon River.) But my kids tell ME to turn the volume down in the car because they're trying to read. (They're 12 and 10; yes I know this will all change...)

We still listen to music from the 80s... the equivalent would be me listening to Top 40 from 1961. Yeah, that just NEVER happened.

Does this mean that one day my daughter will sigh, roll her eyes and protest "enough Metric already Mum!"?

*A grown-up in the minority, finding themselves among younger people. Coined by Adrian Spies, writer of the Star Trek episode featuring a post-apocalyptic world where only teenagers survived.

It's a kid's game chiefly, but you can find grups playing too.

Blaze

This is the reason why this blog has become quieter:

his name is Blaze

and he's a Portuguese Water Dog

We brought him home Nov 6, 2009 when he was eight weeks old. So things have been different in this house. Which I'm so happy about -- I've wanted a dog for a long, long time.

no more

How wrong is it that I don't like Christmas songs? I own maybe a dozen, and by early Dec I walk out of the stores that are playing the songs realizing I've been grinding my teeth. I keep hoping that maybe one year they won't drive me nuts, but this year I'm owning my sense of guilt - my bahhumbug - and am deciding as of today I shan't be ashamed anymore.

Admittedly I don't really 'get into' a lot about the holidays. I mean, I like making goodies (I make some mean chocolates if I do say so myself) and I like getting gifts for family and friends. And I like winter and snow and little twinkling lights on fresh snow. But ALL the cutesy penguins and snowmen and lawn ornaments ... not so much. Is one person's cute another's tacky? I don't know. How else to explain all those damn blowup Santas...?

I think my problem with the music is I have an excruciatingly short span between liking a new song and feeling it's overplayed. I actually turn the radio off in the car if I've heard a new Coldplay song for instance more than once. Because I know that I'm going to buy the CD and don't want to wear the music out before I thoroughly enjoy it.

And let's face it, holiday music is so very well worn out.