Another great show @citadeltheatre last night: Venus in Fur. Not for the kids, but lotsa grownup fun for an evening out.
A (re)clicks post is a short-and-sweet collection of the (sometimes-interlinked) randomness from my recent life, universe and everything else in between. The bits tend to be events lacking in either (a) too many details or (b) otherwise interesting depth; Or, I’m just lacking in the time to more fully record them. Enjoy.
Sometimes it rains. click Sometimes it snows. Again. Spring started (if you follow the sometimes-controversial logic that seasonal equinox marks the start of a season and not the mid-point, as some would assert) last week with snow. More snow. And despite the fact that we could easily be due for at least two more months of not-unexpected snowfall, the depth and intensity of this winter’s cold and seemingly-ceaseless onslaught of snow, cold, ice, and (yes) plain old hard winter, we had kinda wished we were somehow (if not deserving of) due for an early thaw. We’re not, which of course meant that click this weekend’s runs were chilly and slippery and moderately unpleasant… not counting the company, of course.
Or it may have been the click beers with the same group on Friday night. A text from Mary late in the afternoon had me wandering in the direction of Brewster’s Pub where the girls (who’d spent the previous hour at an all-ladies zumba class next door) invited a few of us guys out for beers. I needed that. Not the beer, per se, though I’m happy to indulge in a craft brew on a Friday night as much as the next bloke. More the company. Friday was a suck of a day: mentally, emotionally. I’m also not one to routinely advocate the well-worn practice of drowning one’s sorrows at the bottom of a pint, but a helluva day like Friday was deserves a social pick-me-up when available. While respecting the privacy of those involved, let’s just say that a click couple of emails and phone call brought me into a circle of old friends and for whom the brevity of life and the extreme unthinkable trials and fears of parenthood were made very real of the past couple days. It makes you want to go home and hug your own kid. Hug them. Hold them. Never let them out of your sight, and wallow in the sludge of emotional guilt derived from the clash of perspective due to the relative smallness of one’s own little day-to-day problems.
That kind of feeling somehow, justifiably, always accompanies such tragedy, and click you find yourself sitting on the couch on Saturday afternoon, wallowing, and playing video games with your daughter, aching with guilt that you’re only playing video games and not out exploring the vast world and creating epic memories proved with a thousand photographs and hours of video footage of it all. Just in case. No. Instead, you play video games. Have a cuddle-nap on the couch for a bit, then drag your sorry butts out to the store to buy birthday gifts for her friends so that she doesn’t go empty-handed to the party the next day. click It was in front of the Canadian Tire, laying in a skiff of snow in the parking lot just waiting to be run over by the next car, where Claire found an iPhone. It was fully-charged, password-locked, and completely devoid of ownership identification. And while I tried to crack in to find some ID –even using the (unregistered) code on the case to (fail to) track down the owner– ultimately we left it at the lost-and-found and went on our merry way, to dinner, to home, to bed, to wallow a bit more on the couch hoping that Sunday would be a better day.
Which it was. click Swimming club try-outs, lunch down-town, and some musical theatre –has anyone heard of a little play called Mary Poppins— rounded out a family-fun-afternoon and we capped that off with click the aforementioned birthday party, grown-ups included, and a pleasant evening with neighbors and friends, old a new. All the while we tried to forget that it was still bitter-cold not-quite-spring outside, and the reality of the universe that awaited us on Monday morning. But then that’s just life, isn’t it?
A reloaded post is a short-and-sweet collection of the (sometimes-interlinked) randomness from my recent life, universe and everything else in between. They would be more detailed but they tend to be events lacking in either (a) details or (b) depth… or in the time to more fully record them. Enjoy.
It’s curious how just one month ago I was lamenting the end of all these little routines in our lives, and then… well… September happens, and everything is a go-go once again.
Old Fashioned Birthday Party
…we did our best to fill them with sugar before shipping them back to their parents.
For followers of this blog it should come as no surprise that it was Claire’s birthday over the past weekend. We pulled out all… well, ok, not all… a few of the stops and booked her a party at Fort Edmonton for her and thirteen of her friends, cousins, and school chums. They rode the street car, baked sugar cookies, rolled home-made marbles, and learned how to wash socks. And we did our best to fill them with sugar before shipping them back to their parents. All-in-all a rousing success. And many… many… many thanks to the parents who showed up (you know who you are) to supervise kids or cart supplies and a teetering chocolate cake half way across the park: we could not have done it without you.
Another Season at the Citadel
Sunday was no slouch, either. Another season at the theatre began for us with our subscription matinee seats to “A Few Good Men” that classic (can I call it that yet?) military court-room drama best known by the Cruise-Nicholson “you can’t handle the truth!” version. The play (so we were told in the playbill) came first, but had been lovingly rewritten since the film to incorporate the award winning gems of dialog made famous by the latter. It was (understandably) heavy on the American patriotism, replete with a Patton-sized flag at the climax, all of which was met by an indifferent ‘meh’ by the audience. But if readers still have a chance to see, it’s worth it overall. It’s playing for a couple more weeks, I think.
School has been in for nigh on a month now, and routine has set in. I don’t recall having homework in Kindergarten, but then again I don’t recall much at all about Kindergarten. Claire has reading homework. She is required to log fifteen minutes per night, every night, of reading. This seemed a little excessive (y’know… for Kindergarten) until we realized that the fifteen minutes of story-time we’ve been doing virtually every night since she was an itty-bitty infant was essentially all they were asking us to sign-off on. I guess we’re not normal, or something, reading to our kid. Still… call it homework and the tears start flowing. It must be encoded in their genes.
Dance + Dance = More Dance
As of Saturday morning my daughter will be a ballerina.
Claire’s third year of dance lessons start on Saturday, and by request she is now enrolled in two (nearly back-to-back) classes, not only taking in the continuing adventures in her mother’s legacy of Highland Dance, but also every five-year-old girl’s dream of Ballet. That’s right: As of Saturday morning my daughter will be a ballerina. The positive off-shoot — having nothing to do with my willingness to be involved, but rather Karin’s committment to help out at the studio during Claire’s lessons — I suddenly have a whole season of wide-open Saturday mornings for personal chores and projects. Methinks it will lean more in the direction of the chores.
Claire has a list of new words she loves to say. Thanks to the visitation of her grandparents and aunt, up to this weekend she has added or improved (with her own toddler-play on each, of course): auntie, grandpa, grandma, run, daddy run, snap, sparkle, arm, bowl, apple, fish, cheese, a variety of letters of the alphabet, the first line of about six songs, and just about too many others to keep listing them here, really.
We actually got out of the house and saw two shows this weekend. “Doubt: A Parable” at the citadel was enjoyable and was a multi-layered commentary on experience, respect, evidence, hierarchy, and lost innocence. “Annie” playing at the Jube, was just Annie. It was good, and the under-plot of mid-depression-era politics felt particularly prescient for some reason.
A reminder… PhotoShootChallenge #3 is at the half-way point. It’s never too early to submit your entries!
I ran the St. Patrick’s Day 10 K run on Sunday morning. When I woke up I was slightly motivated by the lack of overnight snow. But by the time we were standing on the start line it was chilly and the near-blizzard conditions left a visibility who’s only advantage was that we couldn’t see the upcoming hills. I finished in a little more than an hour. Best. 10k time. Ever. (For me anyhow!) My crew is now talking half-marathon clinic starting mid-April — but my sanity isn’t entirely sold.
Had a great meal at New Asian Village on Saturday evening. It’s always great when one goes to a curry buffet, though.
Try as I might I can’t keep up to my Audible credits. I’ve got about two hours left on my current listen, and another two waiting in queue (thanks to a six-month-membership-anniversary freebie). Top that off with the fact I’ve got two pending and unspent credits, I’m gonna need to take a week off just to listen to audio books. Suggestions on good reads or listens?
We’ve unofficially started potty training. Enough said.
We finalized our bookings for Vegas in July. Flights, hotel, and event all bought and paid for. I guess there is no backing out now — at least not without cancellation charges.
Spent some quality moments with Mario Kart Wii this weekend: I finally unlocked all the tracks. It’s not a matter of sucking at the game, but rather it’s a matter of moderate inadequacy mixed with a decided lack of free time.
Someday soon I will find time for a good night’s sleep, too. Someday.
Karin and I found ourselves childless last night as the mother-in-law parachuted in to babysit. We opted to keep our season’s tickets for the theater this year despite the (at the time) looming time-sap of parenthood.
The first show was about a month and a half ago, just days after our early arrival, and weeks before either of us was quite willing to hand over the creature to any caregiver, regardless of capabilities. We gave the tickets away, and lamented in our new life.
Last night was the second show of the season, and we spent intermission eating over-priced ice cream and remarking at how odd it was to have this little glimpse of old life back, and how even after a short forty-some days it seemed so surreal and foreign.
Incidentally, we dressed Claire up for Halloween last week and (by happenstance of my work schedule) paraded her around Red Deer for an hour or so to visit the grandparents and a few others.
Also, Claire celebrated the forty-second day of her own existence with the news of a new little pal arriving in nearby Sherwood Park. Tiffany and Snickers, and their bread-winner Chris, welcomed Lola into being shortly after midnight. I gotta say, it looks like the guys games club is turning into a fathers with daughters club (sorry Matt, you can still come along).
Of course, after four and a half hours away from the kid, Karin was glad to get home and recount the nuances of the moments she’d missed. I went to bed.