you've got this thing with walking

Today on my lunch break, I bought my usual insanely cheap and delicious coffee from Cuppa Joe and then headed to Wanda's Pie in the Sky for a gorilla biscuit (the tastiest vegan treat on the block for under $2). As I sat there doodling in my notebook and listening to one of my new favourite songs, a woman and her two children came in and hung around waiting for a birthday cake to be ready. One of the kids was a baby in a stroller wearing a hat. The stroller was facing me, as was the baby, so I smiled and the baby returned it with the best smile I have ever seen in my two decades of living. I can't explain it entirely - it was slow to come across her face, as though she were blushing, but at the same time it was such a beam that I thought she must be consciously acknowledging that she was so very worth smiling at and that she thought I was, too.

I continued doodling and writing, but kept on feeling the compulsion to look back at the baby. Every time I did, she met my eyes and we smiled at each other. Finally, I caught her mother's eye and said, "You have a wonderful baby," to which she responded "Oh yes, she gets a lot of attention," laughing a little.

"She's very charismatic," I volunteered, unable to keep from beaming as I looked down into the baby's wonderful face.

I've only been truly intrigued by babies at one point in my life, which was during Mrs. Johnston's grade twelve biology class genetics unit, and that was 99% based in awe that humans are capable of manufacturing miniature versions of themselves. Other than that, I've never wanted children, and I still don't. My exchange with this baby was not based in maternal need or instinct. It was simply an exchange with another human being grateful for life and it made me remember to be thankful for the rest of the day.

Thank-you, charismatic baby, for the little reminder. I hope you grow up strong and excited about everything you can do and be.

blasphemy

I'm updating for once, mostly because Jen commonly utters the phrase, "Oh man, I can't WAIT for you to blog about this!".

That being said, not too much is noteworthy.

I was feeling not super great in the self-image department for the past few weeks, which was quickly getting to be a huge downer...until, as I walked home from work one night this week, I found a glorious treasure in someone's recycling that had been set out for pick-up: a 1980s rerelease of Our Bodies, Ourselves. Jen and I read it aloud for awhile and it was kind of awesome in its early-third-wave empowerment.

It's going to be my best friend for life.

Here's a list of things I'd like:

Glasses that never get dirty
Darker (or even existent) eyebrows
A full-time position at not-the-wine-store (this free bottle of wine every week is getting to me)
My imaginary friend from when I was five, whose name was Bowie (as in David Bowie)

Rock on, Captain Planet(s),

ctron

faced with the dodo's conundrum

My friends, gather 'round and rejoice, for today is a most glorious day. Sing praises to the heavens; I am motherfucking employed.

Not only that - I have not one, oh ho, not one but TWO sources of income: being a vest-sporting lackey at the liquor store AND short-term work at a community health centre. Is there something vaguely ironic about this? Can I get a witness??

(To which you heartily respond: "TESTIFY!")

Anyway, I don't start until saturday, which means I have to milk these last days of unemployment for all they're worth (and trust me, brothers, they are worth oh-so-much). To begin this veritable milk-fest (worst phrase ever, I'm sorry - and I know these parenthetical asides are irritating, so I'll stop), I went to my Aunt Rita's house last night to sup with her, my cousin Emma, and her friend Melanie. After our most delicious meal of vegetarian lasagna and ridiculously excellent homemade cheesecake, Emma and Mel and I wandered down to the beach just as it was getting dark. The fog was a-rollin' over the lake and the tide was roaring in and smacking against the rocks and we sat ourselves down to take it in.

"It's sort of an 'edge of the earth' type of feeling," Melanie said. Emma was quick to agree, and the two of them talked about how the water stretching on forever was majestic and beautiful or what-have-you, but also kind of eerie.

Conversely, I found the sensation comforting. I think it's because I grew up being able to see forever - not water, but wheat ("Wheat. All there is in life is wheat."). So looking out into the gaping endless maw of Lake Ontario felt not overwhelming or spooky but...actually kind of like home. As I thought about this, I remembered Ferron saying a similar thing about when she saw the ocean in Honduras: she was overcome with an oddly strong sense of homesickness.

As much as I felt an acute ache for the prairies, I'm incredibly happy to be here now. Oh, and - having a job lends it a sense of permanency it didn't quite have before. I think I'm here to stay, comrades.