As seen on my fridge:
Laura’s Did-Nothing Journal.
I dreamt I was outside talking with Mom when we happened upon an old lady lurking through the woods, dragging a plastic trash bag behind her. The lady was plucking softball-sized cotton balls out of the conifers. The squirrels and assorted small woodland creatures depended on these cotton balls to survive winter, and this crone was picking at their chance for survival. Mom was displeased by this lady’s actions but unwilling to say or do anything. Mom was one of those: a complainer, not a doer.
Fuck it. I boldly marched up to the lady, poked holes in her bag with my index fingers and ripped the bag apart, allowing the cotton balls to tumble out. When I hurried back to Mom, I could see the disappointed look on her face. She was not happy about what I’d done. Mom was so disappointed in me that she refused to speak to me. I tried to make sense of this.
Then I woke up and looked at the clock:
IT WAS 1:45PM.
Continue reading “Laura’s Did-Nothing Journal.”Animal magnetism.
I finished Jordi’s main birthday present last week. His birthday was on August 1st.
Months ago, Jordi mentioned that none of the magnets on his fridge belonged to him. “I don’t have a fridge magnet.”
My heart broke. Then I remembered that he has a cat, and I do not. I have many fridge magnets but no cat.
And that was my inspiration:
Waternity return.
My metamorphosis is complete. I went from being a tadpole in 1993 to the mighty frog I am today.
I am swimming with intent again.
Continue reading “Waternity return.”Princeton: Not just an ivy league school.
It’s a small town in the Okanagan that captured our tourism dollars because it was starting to get dark. I’d reserved a hotel room in exotic Langley. Initially, Jordi and I would spend the night in Vancouver, but hotel rooms cost $400 per night. Langley was marginally cheaper at ~$300, but it was conveniently just off Highway 1.
At 8 p.m., we were three hours away from Langley. After convincing the hotelier in Langley over the phone to waive our booking fee, Jordi asked me to find new lodging before the sun disappeared.
Unbeknownst to Jordi, I’ve slept on a mat in a coed dorm room in Beijing. I’ve slept in a windowless room in Airlie Beach where the only alternate exit in case of fire was a porthole in the ceiling. The Hostelling International accredited hotel in Ghent had black mould in the showers. I’ve stayed at the bizarrely named “Sparkling Dolphin Inn” in Kyoto, where the chairs wore baby socks.
I am a connoisseur of dumpy lodgings.
I pointed to a building just off Crowsnest Highway. “But that’s a motel!” exclaimed Jordi.
???
Continue reading “Princeton: Not just an ivy league school.”
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