And Then There'd Be Fewer April Snowstorms

As an addendum to that last post, I heard on the radio this morning that a sheet metal worker in Seattle is trying to spearhead the institution of a four-day workweek. He figures commuting to and from work is one of the biggest contributors to global warming.

Tack on some extra hours after each Monday to Thursday shift to make up for the "lost" day but, in the end, it's a win-win situation for employers, employees and Mother Nature. People come back to work happier after a three-day weekend. They can do more with their families, so that's good for society. Employers benefit because they not only get the same amount of hours from their workforce, but the employees are more apt to be productive if they're content. And, hey, less cars idling in traffic.

Of course, I already thought one of the smartest men on the planet was a sheet metal worker. Apparently, now, there's two.

Long December

Hooray! I think spring has sprung at last. Although I prefer winter to summer, I'm welcoming the warmer weather but saddened a little to put away my groovy vintage green houndstooth coat. Daughter has retired her jeans and is now in full capri, skirt or shorts mode. The boys are outside playing some take on Marvel/Teletoon heroes game in the tree fort. Husband has left me for golf. And my bulbs are blooming and smelling divine.

Aren't these sweet? Those of you who know me well would understand why I have an affinity for violets. I love how my back garden is coming alive again with a bevy of these little things.

And this is what my in-laws woke up to on April 19th. I'm told Al Gore came over later that afternoon to make snow angels.

Thank You. Thank You Very Much.

Just got back from the spin-a-thon. Much fun. Very hungry. Must eat steak. Eleven teams of four fundraised around $4500 which surpassed the organizers' expectations. Now it is safe to have a heart attack in my town. Thanks again.

Positive Spin

Baby Sister's shower went very well, I think. As is always the case at family get-togethers, there was too much food. Of course, that's a good thing.

Baby Sister had a good time. Her work friends started a chant, "Cry, (Baby Sister), Cry!" which isn't a difficult feat. What took me off-guard about that was it followed a speech Baby Sister had made. The work friend who started the chant is a Jehovah's Witness whom, I was told, would have to leave the room if someone made a speech. Or was it a toast? I served liquor, too.

My cousins on my dad's side arrived first. Mum and Dad were out with some last-minute stuff. "My parents are gone," I said. "Let's raid their liquor cabinet!" My eldest cousin thought that was a riot and she hadn't even had a sip of the vermouth yet.

Middle Sister wasn't feeling well. She stood off to the sides, not wanting to touch anything or anyone, so my mum took over. Other relatives helped out, too, which just sort of happens. You don't ask; you just do. Mi casa, su casa and all that jazz.

The only problem is that I'm not getting enough sleep now. Ever since the baby shower, I set my alarm at the ungodly hour that I always to in order to get to the gym by 6 am. The alarm goes off and it seems so hard to get out of bed. That's unusual. I've been hitting the sack before 9:30 for the last two days, but you'd never know.

This is a drag because I'm participating in a six-hour spin-a-thon Saturday to raise money for the local hospital's ER (they need a new adult crash cart). Three others and myself are dressing up like The Incredibles (naturally, I'm Violet, and most of you who read this know why) and we've agreed to take 30-minute turns on the stationary bike. And it won't be simple cycling. No, it will be half-hour classes by instructors from four different area gyms. I have to pack lots of water and probably some food, or I might just phone Husband to walk over a sandwich or something to me. I really have no idea what to expect except that I will probably be very tired.

And thanks to those of you who have sponsored me, including those who don't even live in my town. My sister said, as she wrote down her name, "I'll sponsor you because I encourage your craziness but also because I'll feel better if Dad's crappy ticker konks out when he's visiting you."

Do The Right Sesame Street

The things you do on a lazy Sunday...

I tidied up the front garden a bit, now that most of the snow has melted (again, I welcome you to the country). There was quite a bit of garbage left lying there through the winter and my bulbs are starting to peek out, so after the boys and I did some serious bubble blowing, I got my fingernails dirty.

Hmmm, then what.

I thought I'd check out my email and from there, I started farting about. And I found THIS!!!

It marries my love for one of my favourite movies and one of my favourite TV shows. Actually, when I first saw Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing, it reminded me of Sesame Street. Both are set in decidedly-not-Manhattan-New York. Both use racial harmony (or disharmony) as a backbone. I took a guy to see the movie once and he was very unnerved by the interracial couple thing. So blind I was that when I was told in sociology class that Sesame's Maria and David were possibly the first interracial couple on television, it hit me like, uh, a bag of hammers. Having been introduced to interracial couples when Sesame first aired on the Buffalo PBS station, it didn't cause me to even blink an eye when I saw Tina and Mookie.

Both Sesame Street and Do The Right Thing are full of colour and character. The first hour of the movie has quite a bit of joy in it; all kinds of stuff that makes me love urban life and my childhood in the Junction. Sesame was lovely and optimistic and fun ... and then adulthood set in, which is kind of like the insipidness that pervades the second half of the movie. WAKE UP.

And, on top of it all, the guy who made this video uses Fisher-Price toys which, after Barbies, were my favourite.

I love this stuff!

From a Communion to a Don Mills Wedding: Reasons to Buy New Shoes!

Middle Child had his First Communion last weekend. Mum brought back one of those white ribbon things Maltese boys wear on their sleeves. So he had a cool silver vest and tie ("I look like a man!" he exclaimed), hair styled in the best skateboarder shag I can do, ribbon pinned on and off we were off to the races. Middle Sister, her family and my parents arrived bright and early for the 8:45 mass.

The kids, Husband and I brought up the offertory. Irreligious Husband was a little freaked out because he didn't know what to do, but we looked okay. Turns out Husband is considering going to mass more regularly after a few of his patients phoned him up this week to say, "Hey, doctor, I saw you at church!". Husband thinks it'll be good for business. He just may be going to hell. I told him he may as well be golfing instead so patients can say they saw him there but he reminded me that we live in the bible belt of Ontario. The links are barren on Sunday mornings.

The highlight of the mass, though, was when the priest called up Middle Child at the end so the parish could applaud him. The kid turned around, puffed out his skinny little chest, arms to the side and had the most serious face ever. Actually, think "deer in the headlights" look and that about covers it. He explained later that he wanted to look solemn. Yeah, too bad his whole family, including Mum the über-Catholic, was shaking violently with the giggles.

I set out a pretty good spread for lunch. I made a pretty good braided smoked salmon tart that went over like a kegger at a frat house. My grandmother and aunt came with some yummies too so there was plenty to go around. Mum got a little cemented on the strawberry daquiris I made but was still fine enough to go to a Divine Mercy hour of prayer halfway through the party. No one minded. Daughter rented - with her paper route money - a karaoke video game because she knew how much Baby Sister loves to sing. Frankly, the whole family likes to sing. Middle Child's youngest son did a swell rendition of the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha".

So the next event on the list, outside of parent-teacher interviews, would be taking Daughter to see Avril. She wants to skip school that day because she won't be able to concentrate. I'm already going to mortgage the house to gas up the car to get there; I don't want to pay for a sitter too. Then we have Baby Sister's baby shower. Oh! And we're getting a Winners, so I'm squeezing in a grand-opening trip this week. Then there's dental appointments, the spin-a-thon (thank you to all who are sponsoring me), Middle Sister's eldest son's First Communion (and grand opening of her renovated basement), and my godmother's wedding in Don Mills. I'm not complaining one little bit. I love parties.