2.5 years is seriously kicking 2.0 years' butt.

• 2.5 displays awesome physical confidence and prowess. She has mastered putting on (and taking off) clothing and shoes/boots. She is into physical comedy complete with pratfalls. Neighbourhood playgrounds hold very few challenges anymore.
• We've been trying to encourage 2.5 to use more words and even whole sentences to make demands. As a result, upon request, 2.5 now states in a very formal fashion: "Whole sentence: Mom, I like a apple please" and "Whole sentence: Dad, I like a more cow milk please". It's like living with a small spelling bee champion.
• 2.5 has very important, self-initiated jobs. She pushes her chair back to the table after eating and puts the dog's post-meal bowl into the dishwasher. However, 2.5 is not very interested in putting her toys away or keeping her shirt on.
• 2.5 has special friends and LOVES big kids. 2.5 would like to discuss arrangements to play with them: "Come back? Come back soon play at my house?"
• Much to her guitar-loving father's (and grandfather's) particular delight, 2.5 can and will keep time, strum a ukulele and sing (in tune and mostly using the correct words) "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". An album tentatively titled "2.5: The Greatest Hits" is in the works. Also on the album may be a re-interpreted cover of the Dixie Chick's song "Travelin' Soldier" (aka "Two Day Pâté").

I did have a good weekend.


Thanks for asking.

How was yours?

I'm going to get a little controvercial here (and risk embracing a terrible cliche) but you don't know how to make coffee.


You might think you do, but you are wrong.

Homemade coffee can taste better. And you can learn how to do it.

The hipsters of Portland are here to help: Stumptown Coffee Roasters Brewing Guide.

If they can help me, they can help anyone.

A couple of (totally unrelated to the above pic) linkies for some good escapism browsing:

reading my tea leaves
everday musings
the daily muse

"Rocky was the first person to introduce himself to me when i arrived. a man with a broken tail and a broken heart - he lives across from the hospital under an abandoned house. the story is that Rocky was in love with the oldest woman in town and that when she went into hospital, he followed her there. he would run in when the doors opened and sneak into her room, spending hours on her lap. in the years since her death, Rocky has refused to move on, continuing to roam the halls, looking for Edna. her house has been torn down and the city has changed around him. yet, every morning he wanders out from under his porch, across the bustling street to sit on the bench outside the hospital where he waits for a scratch from a stranger and a chance to dart between the doors." ~ an email (with pic) from my brother

That kid needs to write way more.

I am profoundly, crushingly, deep green with envy about this.


And then I saw that there will be one in Toronto. Cue the website update stalking and penny saving.

The other day I was doing laundry when I had an epiphany.


Like many other people it seems, I tend to do my best thinking while engaged in mindless tasks like laundry or dishes. Or when I'm in the shower. Or on a run. Or, at the risk of over-sharing, on the toilet.

You know, the kind of thought-process where your mind starts wandering and making these amazing, brilliant connections. Bringing together all sorts of scattered bits of formerly useless information that you've collected and committed to memory over the years. Ultimately resulting in some sort of grand cohesive unifying vision of the fundamental workings and philosophical underpinnings of our entire universe.

No? Just me and Einstein then? Ok.

In this case, my aimless mental wanderings brought together: 1) some dubious and limited insights into human psychology, 2) a dusty undergraduate film studies tidbit related to the manner in which the themes of popular horror movies tend to change in a way that mirrors social fears and tensions; 3) my observation of the current popularity of all things zombie and vampire in cinema, books and television; 4) my job.

You're all dying to know where this is going right?

Are you lying down on a chaise?

The bottom line: we're all scared shitless about the impending social and economic upheaval that will (may?) occur as a result of the Baby Boomer generation reaching retirement age.

Yup, zombies (i.e., the walking, cannibalistic, infectious dead) and vampires (i.e., the powerful, insatiable, bloodsucking undead) are the artistic, pop-cultural manifestations of our shared societal subconscious feelings about seniors dominating the population pyramid.

Am I right or am I right? Give it some time to sink in.



You're welcome.

I am sorry if this makes True Blood significantly less sexy and enjoyable for anyone else. You just can't unthink these sorts of things.

"In the introduction, Mr. Picard writes that it took 400 litres of syrup to test the cookbook’s recipes. One of the first ones is for pancakes deep-fried in duck fat and drowned in maple syrup. There’s also recipe for tourtière but topped with sweetbreads, sautéed calf’s brain, slab bacon, pecans, 3½ ounces of foie gras, arugula, and half a wheel of soft, washed-rind cow’s milk cheese, as well as gouts of maple syrup. (The arugula was doubtless a momentary lapse.)" ~ Chris Nuttall-Smith for the Globe and Mail on "Cabane à Sucre Au Pied de Cochon"


I want to own this cookbook and eat at this restaurant so badly that I could cry.


Also, for reference (i.e., how to skin a squirrel) see also: The Joy of Cooking.

This is easily the best motivational poster I've ever seen.


Children! Reach for Excellence! Achieve the Dream! Distinguish yourself from the crowd! Work hard and escape the poop-filled fishbowl of your mediocre life! Figure out how the fuck you're going to breathe once you do succeed!