We were at mass last night and the kids were endeavoring to restrain their excited little hearts and find a way to survive mass without exploding. As usual, I had Emily next to me. Throughout the mass she’d whisper little things to me. Things like “I love you with all my heart Daddy,” or “I love God too,” or “Church isn’t just for rich people, is it Daddy? It’s for everyone.”
As curious as I always am about where some of these little whisperings come from, nothing quite tops the point where she had a curious little look on her face, drawing me to lower my ear to her level so that she could offer up whatever little piece of wisdom it was that she’d been mulling over.
She looked at me, lifted her mouth to my ear and whispered, “I farted.”
Dec 24, 2010
Dec 17, 2010
Do you fake it?
The Christmas tree that is, don’t know what the rest of you were thinking.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
Dec 13, 2010
Top Speed
We played touch football again tonight, something we’ve been partaking in each Monday night since the season began. We’ve had a mixed season, leaning more to the losing side of the balance sheet than I’d prefer, but most weeks there’s something in the game to at least keep me interested.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Dec 11, 2010
Start with a list
Its always interesting when you see your children starting to emulate some of your habits. Its funny enough when you realise that you are repeating the things that your parents have done. I often walk out of the house thinking, wallet, watch ... starting off the list that I used to hear my father walking out the door with (wallet, watch, train ticket).
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
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