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wyntir_knightStupid interweb is broken at home and no access to yahoo mail from work. ... Actually Rogers tells us that the problem is static buildup in our router, but the effect is the same. No interweb.
I found out yesterday that my father has completely forgotten about my mom's 55th birthday. How he could forget St Patrick's day is beyond me. So mom and I are going to celebrate on saturday afternoon with a big lunch and sunday we're going for high tea at the Chateau Laurier. Fifty-five is big. It's early retirement age, it represents a certain age and maturity, it's one of the big ones. Mom has failed to remind dad of the day (not that she should), and is instead dropping hints that a blind man would have trouble missing. We even had an enumerator come by last night for the bi-election and got all the pertinent details on the family, and dad didn't clue in to the upcoming date. I'd be tempted to say that it's because he's 60, but he's always been an absent-minded professor, so age has nothing to do with it.
Last night I finished my first christmas present afghan. Six afghans before christmas. I'll be posting the pictures of the first one as soon as I find my digital camera. My extended family is notoriously hard to shop for, so I figured that hand-made is more personal, and afghans are always useful. I'll have to be sure to wear my brace, however. My arm is still aching a bit from the tendonitis. I guess it's true that it takes a long time to heal properly and often never does completely. But I'll chug on. There are those who have far more debilitating problems than my troubled elbow, so I really shouldn't complain.
I've been finding myself doing a lot of baking lately. I know, not exactly a good idea when one is on a diet, but it's soothing. See, I'm a stress eater. My problem was never a slow metabolism, or genetic predisposition, it was quantity and stress eating. I'm stressed, eat. I'm bored, eat. I'm sick, eat. I'm sad, eat. I'm tired, eat. ... My dad jokes that the Casale family motto is "Mangi! Mangi!" Amazingly, since baking and cooking is a stress reliever, I end up eating less. Of course, since I can't abide wasted food, it means that baked goods get sent over to my brother's place. Hey, he runs around with teenagers and little boys all day long. He could use the extra calories. ... So I went out at got the Martha Stewart Baking Book. Blueberry pies, carrot cake with mascarpone icing, coconut cake, lemon merigue pie, corn bread ... I'll have to start posting pictures when I bake them, just as a reminder to myself, if for no other reason.
I have also decided that I'm going to once again try my hand at writing. I have incredible respect for those who can write. I have tons of ideas running about my head, but when I write them down I become scared that they're no good. Maybe they are no good, but I'll never know if I don't keep them and let others read them. So I guess it's a confidence thing. That's one of the things I admire most about writers. They have the confidence to put their soul out there on display (I do believe that almost all writing reflects the writer in one way or another). That takes a huge amount of courage. I often have to wonder if they realize just how brave and strong they are.
Well, that's enough of me being introspective.
I found out yesterday that my father has completely forgotten about my mom's 55th birthday. How he could forget St Patrick's day is beyond me. So mom and I are going to celebrate on saturday afternoon with a big lunch and sunday we're going for high tea at the Chateau Laurier. Fifty-five is big. It's early retirement age, it represents a certain age and maturity, it's one of the big ones. Mom has failed to remind dad of the day (not that she should), and is instead dropping hints that a blind man would have trouble missing. We even had an enumerator come by last night for the bi-election and got all the pertinent details on the family, and dad didn't clue in to the upcoming date. I'd be tempted to say that it's because he's 60, but he's always been an absent-minded professor, so age has nothing to do with it.
Last night I finished my first christmas present afghan. Six afghans before christmas. I'll be posting the pictures of the first one as soon as I find my digital camera. My extended family is notoriously hard to shop for, so I figured that hand-made is more personal, and afghans are always useful. I'll have to be sure to wear my brace, however. My arm is still aching a bit from the tendonitis. I guess it's true that it takes a long time to heal properly and often never does completely. But I'll chug on. There are those who have far more debilitating problems than my troubled elbow, so I really shouldn't complain.
I've been finding myself doing a lot of baking lately. I know, not exactly a good idea when one is on a diet, but it's soothing. See, I'm a stress eater. My problem was never a slow metabolism, or genetic predisposition, it was quantity and stress eating. I'm stressed, eat. I'm bored, eat. I'm sick, eat. I'm sad, eat. I'm tired, eat. ... My dad jokes that the Casale family motto is "Mangi! Mangi!" Amazingly, since baking and cooking is a stress reliever, I end up eating less. Of course, since I can't abide wasted food, it means that baked goods get sent over to my brother's place. Hey, he runs around with teenagers and little boys all day long. He could use the extra calories. ... So I went out at got the Martha Stewart Baking Book. Blueberry pies, carrot cake with mascarpone icing, coconut cake, lemon merigue pie, corn bread ... I'll have to start posting pictures when I bake them, just as a reminder to myself, if for no other reason.
I have also decided that I'm going to once again try my hand at writing. I have incredible respect for those who can write. I have tons of ideas running about my head, but when I write them down I become scared that they're no good. Maybe they are no good, but I'll never know if I don't keep them and let others read them. So I guess it's a confidence thing. That's one of the things I admire most about writers. They have the confidence to put their soul out there on display (I do believe that almost all writing reflects the writer in one way or another). That takes a huge amount of courage. I often have to wonder if they realize just how brave and strong they are.
Well, that's enough of me being introspective.
