The Hidey Burger

My last living uncle died a few weeks ago, and I took a trip with Sprout and my sister to the funeral. It was sad but fun, in the way large family get-togethers can be.

While driving through Saskatchewan to get to the funeral, we passed a small-town restaurant called "The Heidi Burger" and I remarked aloud at the name. Sprout responded by saying - very excitedly from the back seat - "What BURGER? Where did dey HIDE da BURGER?"

He was just starting to get restless after 2 hours in the car (I refuse to get a portable DVD player because I'm convinced that it's the beginning of Armageddon if I do), so we turned the "Hidey Burger" into a game.

Sprout would draw a picture of a restaurant with his markers and paper, and then hide a tiny burger-shaped dot somewhere in the scene. Auntie Bean and I would have to take turns trying to find the 'burger' in the picture. It was good for at least 30 minutes of amusement for all.

I was thinking that La Lauveen would have loved it altogether.

A Universal Truth

I had the most splendid conversation last night with a shoe salesman. The Birkenstock guy, or the Broadwy Shoe guy, as he is known, has been selling me shoes for years. But, every time I see him, I become immediately awash with guilt that I never shine my Blundstne boots. I want to drop everything and hide my feet.

I ran into him at Lydia's last night, as we were setting up for Stories in the Bar (library storytime in the pub, which turned out to be awesome fun).

I admitted my shoeshine guilt problem to Birkenstock Guy and equated it to how people react to me when they meet me and learn that I'm a librarian: "Oh, [sigh], you should see the big fines I have on my library card". It taps right into their library guilt. Birkenstock Guy nodded knowingly, and said, "I spend a lot of time helping people to feel okay about the state of their shoes."

And there, in the pub, we discovered a universal truth together: "Librarians and Shoe Salesmen Have a Lot of Power."

I Stop for Vegetarians

My son - the Sprout - is very chatty. He has always been very chatty. Lately, he's amusing me more than usual.

The other day, he was biking on the sidewalk and I was walking alongside.

Him, apropos of nothing: "Mama, I ALWAYS stop for vegetarians."

Me: "Um, can you say that again?"

Him: "I always stop for vegetarians."

Me: "And what's a 'vegetarian'?"

Him, scoffing at my ignorance: "A person without a bike, didn't you know that??"

Me: "That's a pedestrian, dear."

Him: "Oh."

***

And then again a week later, I'm reading the morning newspaper and he stumbles into the dining room, sleepy...

Him: "I'm very blonde in the morning, Mama."

Me, wondering where he learned blonde jokes since we don't talk like that at my house: "Uh, what do you mean by that, Sprout?"

Him: "I'm blonde in the morning. I just don't see very well when I first wake up."

Me: "I think you mean 'blind', don'tcha, sonny boy?"

Five years old is just too good.

"I'm in Town for a Murder Investigation, But I Can't Talk About That"

Weirdo, or messenger of God?

The other day, I was having supper at the Cavalier with Jimbo, the Sprout, and Auntie Bean. Just a nice family meal. There was a woman at the next table dining alone. I noticed her because she was chatting very familiarly with the waitresses, smiled benevolently at us a few times, and drank three glasses of wine with her meal in the short time we were sitting there.

Jimbo took Sprout to the bathroom, and Auntie Bean decided to wait for us outside. I finished the last bite of my food alone and got the bill sent over. When the server brought it, she said, "The lady at the next table paid for your son's meal, and that's why it is not on there."

I graciously said, "That was kind of you," to the woman, and this conversation ensued:

Her: "I was drawn to your son because of his fine manners and his spirit!"

Me: "Uh, he is very charming, yes."

Her: "I am a forensic psychologist, and I study people. I'm in town for a murder investigation but I can't talk about that... (imagine this line delivered with a grandiose mysteriousness like Bette Davis in film noir). I see something very special in your son's future."

Me: "Oh. Um. Well, he's a pretty good negotiator too, so perhaps he'll be a United Nations arbitrator or something. That would be pretty cool. Unless they squash his spirit in school, of course; he does talk non-stop."

Her: (With palpable wisdom. Like Yoda.) "I could see how one might want to curb his spirit, but I would encourage you to nurture it. He really has some special qualities."

Me: "Okay, well thanks again.... Goodbye!"

So. Drunk lonely rich woman who likes to pretend? Expatriate forensic psychologist murder investigator? Messenger of God?

Ein Engel geht vorbei.

Blog Mute I Am

I am teaching a class today on blogging, and wanted to show my folks how easy it is to make a blog. Ta da!

Bootstrap Sprout

Here's what it takes to get me to blog: a friend has to quit her job, marry the sweetheart of her youth, and move to Australia. And yet, I still can't promise long term carry-through. Sigh.

The Sprout turns five this week, and he's a strapping big pirate, don't you know. My little library has started hosting free themed birthday parties (bookable storytime in disguise), and so one night this week I'm taking a holiday and Sprout's having a Pirate Party at the Library. Pirate-themed stories, a few games, and tons of fun. Tonight the little chef and I chopped apples, stirred batter, and whipped up a cake. On the weekend, there was an art-fest, where we concocted 'pin the parrot on the pirate' and giant 'Sprout's Birthday' signs. A fun time will be held by all. Or else. The plank with ye. Or a bit of keel-haulin'. Heh heh.

And it's not only a Pirate Party.

We don't want a lot of presents, so we said 'bring a food donation for the food bank instead'. We also don't want to load the kiddies up with chocolate just before bed, so it's all natural apple cake and milk for everybody. Wholesome treats; free party; wraps up early so everyone gets to bed on time; social justice; and a literacy fest. Wait one minute, you barnacled blackguard!! This ain't no pirate party! It's the 'yoghurt and sunshine communist birthday party', innit?!? I'm onto you.

Happy birthday, my Sprout.

Synergy

I don't think that I'm actually bipolar, but there are definite times in my life where I am healthy, peppy, highly effective, and interesting. These periods can stretch for months or years, and then they are inevitably followed by periods where I am sick, dull, touchy, and hide in my house a lot.

I had an interesting conversation with a mentor of mine once, where she talked about being 'just busy enough to be effective'. If there is too much going on, it all breaks down. If there is too little going on, she can't get anything done. But once there are enough things on the plate, it all hums along, everything gets done, and new energy and new ideas get created by all the things that are happening.

I'm having a good period right now. Of course, I do still work at the little Library branch with the big heart, where nice people get nicer and nasty people find that their edges have been smoothed down considerably by the atmosphere. Don't know if it's the big windows or the great staff team. Do know that either way, it's good for the soul to work there.

This year, I should be going mad instead of having a happy roller coaster ride. I'm supervising a busy branch, I'm spending all my off-hours keeping our local preschool from going belly-up (again with a small but fantastic team of helpers), and I just finished off an exciting round of being on the union's negotiations committee.

And yet, I'm remarkably unravaged by all the demands. Perhaps it's the vats of Vitamin B and D I'm consuming. Or maybe I should knock on wood and wait for the descent into despair. Ole.

Squirrel on a Treadmill

Did I mention that I got myself a treadmill last February, and STILL find myself using it at least once a week? However sparse, it's a sustained exercise regime the likes of which my body has never seen. Like all other hobbies, I usually take up some form of exercise, go megalomaniac for a while, and then quit. But this treadmill, I'm still doing it!

And once in a blue moon, when the air is still, my squirrel husband even uses it. When he thinks no one is watching.