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 lacking in the time to more fully record them. Enjoy.
It’s the last day of February. This year is already one-sixth over, and I’m still trying to remember to replace my 2s with 3s.
Maybe you care. Maybe you don’t. The problem with leaving all our gadgets at home whilst on vacation — or so I know realize — is that the motivation to write about and re-hash your adventures dwindles on an inverse mathemetical curve with the passage of time following said vacation. On a few dedicated mornings on-ship while the girls slept-in, I wandered down to the cafe and drank my coffee with a notebook (yes, a real paper one) and a pen in hand, scribbling little snippets of memory for later reference for just this task: writing some redux articles upon my return was the ultimate goal. Two weeks home and I’ve not breached that effort very well, I admit. Maybe you’ll read them. Maybe you won’t. But I am definitely planning on writing them. Soon.
And Then There Was Being Sick
I could blame a number of factors beyond my own lack of focus, but if I had to pick a major culprit in the delay it would be the fact that we all, in turn, came down with some form of illness in the two weeks following the boat ride. I’ll spare details, but needless to say our levels of engagement on the ‘recalling-our-vacation’ front have been suffering as a result.
Oh, Briar Where Art Thou
My curling-obsessed wife finds herself with the day off work today and instead venturing down to the local hockey-arena soon-to-be-converted competition-curling-rink. The ultimate in Canadian men’s curling, the Briar, begins this weekend, live from Edmonton and Karin wrangled a pretty sweet volunteering gig (thanks to the connections of your’s truly) which starts today with a day of setup and grunt work. So, while the rest of us get ready for work, she’s put on her grubs and is off to run wires and set up comptuer systems or phone systems or — well, I’m not entirely sure to tell you the truth. Either way, she’s got some technical role supporting a major curling tourney and is happy a as lark this weekend.
The Talk, Sort Of
It happened. Sort of. Just sort of, though. I was putting Claire to be last night and she gets this very serious expression on her face, and then asks me: “Dad, how you you stop babies from being born?”
“Stop them?” I ask. “What do you mean? Why do you want to stop them?”
“No. How do you decide to have a baby or not have a baby?”
“Uhhhh.” I stutter. “Do you mean where do babies come from?” I hesitate a bit then ask, finally. I mean it was a kind-of, sort-of backwards way of asking the question, but it was what she was getting at right?
“Yeah.” She adjusts her request. “How do you make babies?”
So… we had the talk. Version One. Rated G, for five year olds.