… my grace in small things has become daily and is now hosted at Grace In Small Things
I think you should go there too.
… my grace in small things has become daily and is now hosted at Grace In Small Things
I think you should go there too.
This week’s small things:
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things. I’m doing it every Sunday for 52 weeks.
To the best of my knowledge, Denton owns a time machine.
To the best of my knowledge, Chad has accumulated a massive fanbase in Regina and will be continuing towards his end goal of Total and Complete World Domination. I’m sure this is why he hasn’t updated his blog since he moved to Regina.
To the best of my knowledge, The Dog is playing video games whenever I come to work and leave her loose in the house.
And why does my MSN web messenger always kack out in the afternoon? How can I avoid working if I am not able to freely discuss with Diamond D the custody schedules for future book purchases?!?
And why won’t someone write a novel that centers around me and my dog and our adventures travelling across Canada on the rails? (while leaving out the part where I’m such a clutz that I’ll probably fall and be decapitated the first time I try to jump into a train car)
There are moments when everything goes well, but don’t be frightened. –Jules Renard
(that’s from Miserable Bliss via schmutzie)
My right foot is really heavy today. I was walking to the new cafe for a bite when it became apparent that my right foot weighed more than my left foot. I was sure that this was a new thing since I do walk quite a bit in my daily life (usually to my coworkers cubicles and then back to my little cubicle, but still). I stared down and caught myself limping, trying to swing my foot out further to SEE if my right foot looked more swollen. I then spent my commute to and from the cafe pondering a life with one gigantic foot. Would Fluevog craft a special boot for my massive appendage? Would I start volunteering, fundraising and lobbying on behalf of Giant-Foot Affliction charities? Is there even such a thing as giant footism?
On closer inspection, my right boot wasn’t laced as tight as my left – once the laces were evenly tightened, my feet regained equilibrium. Easy fix.
And that, my friends, has been the theme for 2009.
WCB Sask (don’t even get me started on those assholes) finally began sending wage loss benefits in late December for The Husband (5 months after his back surgery. Idiots.) and coincidentally, the first cheque arrived on the day he went back to work on light duty. That was our only outstanding worry so thus began 2009, carefree and fancyfree!
And it’s continued that way. It’s creeping me out. I guess I’m a fatalist because I’m just on edge, waiting. I’m actually creating anxiety in myself because I have no anxiety. I’m now hyperaware yet all signs lead to happiness, prosperity and laughter these days. Projects on schedule, bills paid, house awesome, Husband nifty, dog cute. Everything checks out.
Totally freaking me out.
Cold breeze coming into the house? It’s not the furnace or structural problems or a sign we need to replace windows - the back window was open. The dog staring out the back window growling? As much as I though a murderer was hiding in the yard, bunny tracks point to a local a jack rabbit that’s attempting to take up residence in our yard. A suspiciously large cheque arrives in the mail unexpectantly? A phone call to both parties involved reveal the $$ amount is true and ours. A purchase online hasn’t shown up? An email to the sender is zinged off but the package arrives that afternoon.
I’m either going to buy a lottery ticket or buy a bomb shelter because dudes, could this possibly continue for much longer? Could it?
(tell me yes)
This week’s small things:
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things. I’m doing it every Sunday for 52 weeks.
Our December was cold and snowy and more snowy, then some more snowy. It has since begun to melt.
I regret that I did not see this video until yesterday.
How to build an igloo, starring two people whose names I cannot spell
And does anyone else miss these National Film Board short documentaries just appearing between television shows?
This week’s small things:
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things. I’m doing it every Sunday for 52 weeks.
(except this week – I slept through Sunday and although I was grateful, I didn’t document accordingly until Wed.)
The dog is standing at the back door, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she looks out into the darkness.
I just rechecked the door locks and the motion detector yard light and everything is secure. That should make me less on edge but having our laid back pooch sounding caution is giving me the heebie jeebies.
Last month a man rang the doorbell. I held the dog by her collar when I opened the door because my dog, she’s a love whore. I am well aware that a muscular black dog running at your face to coat you in french kisses isn’t always a welcome (or understood) thing. When presented with humans, she dances and licks and dances until she’s in a frenzy. I held her collar so she’d stay put while I figured out what door guy wanted.
He started with ”Do you have an alarm system, ma’am?” and my CSI-watching, paranoid imagination went into overdrive as I was responding “no”. My red flags were waving and alarm bells screaming – why are you telling a stranger that you have NO SECURITY SYSTEM?!? And out of my mouth came “no but…” head nod toward dog “she bites.” At that, the salesman’s eyes opened wide and he stepped back, staring hard at my pup who was straining against my hold to get at him to please please just let me give him a kiss, just one… oh my, his breath smells like chicken for the love of all things holy let me kiss him!
If he’d been a dog person, he would have noticed her tail wagging at top speed but instead, he quickly wrapped up the conversation and walked quickly to the next house.
Since then, we’ve arranged to have a system installed because really, we suspect that our dog would greet an intruder with slobbery, dancing love, following from room to room as he took our belongings. Ever since the salesman visited, I’ve felt a slice of guilt for even allowing someone to believe that she’s anything but an eager to please girl who loves to make out with strangers.
Now, as she stands in our dim kitchen, growling into the darkness, I wonder if I wasn’t lying to the salesman. Maybe she’s more than just love and naps and I’m not sure I’m willing to open the back door to investigate until the daylight arrives… just in case.
This week’s small things:
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things. I’m doing it every Sunday for 52 weeks.
This week’s small things:
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things. I’m doing it every Sunday for 52 weeks.