Of course I don’t want Emma willy nilly flinging her naked body around the internet. Or, at all. Ever. If she does, I hope she waits until her forties. But, let’s be realistic: a parent is never completely in control of his or her babies. Should Emma one day decide a good ole boobie flash is on the menu, here’s what I want her to know.
I haven’t been writing here, but I have been doing Morning Pages over at 750 Words. That’s been soul-feeding. I know typing is technically cheating, but the point is to write, so I’m okay with cheating. No judging, judger.
In Elementary School Steve was a member of the debate club. After High School, he was selling knives. By the time I met him, he was selling Jesus. Since 2000 he’s been selling a prettier internet. I never had a chance, you see.
When Emma was three I sat behind the wheel as Steve plunked himself next to me on the passenger side. As I pushed the clutch to the floor and turned my key, I heard a little voice from the back wondering why I was sitting in Daddy’s Seat.
If you haven’t heard, it rains in Vancouver. I mind it much less than endless months of snow and cruel temperatures, but this damp cold is more cutting and harder to recover from than the dry cold Alberta offers.
This is the last thing I knit. Or is it? I think I made some infinity scarves after this. Yes, yes, I did. I’m excited to get knitting my three prize toques. I love knitting, but I often need long breaks from it, because I get obsessive. A machine. My toques are awesome.
When I started blogging in 1998, it was anonymously. My readership was strangers with blogs. I wasn’t confident enough to be openly involved in something atypical, and most of the blogging community blogged anonymously, so I followed suit.