How else could I get to the fence?

An now for the Queen of Understatement.
A number of years ago one of our daughters got part time work at the airport. It was the early shift - from 4am until 7am and being awake that early in the morning was not easy for her. One morning she came in and reported that there was a little tiny eensy weensy ding on the front bumper of the truck that we let her use to get to work. She had said that there was black ice, she had slid a little and just touched a fence. Fearing she was under-exaggerating the littleness of the ding we checked the damage. Sure enough there was just a little ding. Phew.
The next Sunday I overheard her talking to friends about her mishap. It went something like this.
"I got a bunch of muscly guys to help and we got the truck out of the ditch in no time," she had told them.
I approached the group. "Excuse me," I asked, "what truck and what ditch are you talking about?"
She said, "your truck - when I dinged the front bumper."
I said, "You still didn't say which ditch."
She replied, "I hit some black ice, went through a stop sign and across two lanes and into a ditch. How else could I get to the fence?"                                   

There's something wrong with my pillow

This looks like as good a place as any to write down some of those family stories that have been dragged out oft too many times much to the chagrin of some. I iterate that these are the facts as I remember them. (I would have reiterated but I hadn't iterated yet) It was a lazy summer day and Henry, probably about 8 years old, was beginning to stir from the luxury of sleeping in. I could tell because I was sitting at the computer just outside of his room and I had heard a bit of a klunk.
It was at that point that he stuck his head out of his bedroom door and said to me, "Mom, there is something wrong with my pillow."
"What is wrong with your pillow, Henry," I responded. 
"Well, it's kinda on fire."
Henry's pillow was on fire. A thin, red line of flame was melting Henry's pillow and it was rather suddenly billowing copious amounts of smoke into the house. I grabbed the said inferno and carried it out onto the deck where we liberally applied water until the soggy mass smoked no more.
It turned out that a touch-lamp had fallen off of the night table, onto his pillow and the hot light bulb eventually ignited the pillow that Henry was sleeping on.
I am glad that he had the presence of mind to let me know that there was something wrong with his pillow. I will always think of him as a king of understatement. Next blog you can meet the queen of understatement.

Y not ?

I am decidely ambivalent about dragging my sorry behind down to the Y for a workout. It is on the list of my things to do today but others things call to me as well. I could come up with excuses. My big toe hurts. I can find my favourite workout socks. I had brocolli last night and thus may afflict my fellow Y-ites with unappreciated tootalage. All this comes into play but it is really just me needing to do it because I need to. Simple. Right?

Wickedly Amazing

Took two of my daughters to see Wicked in Toronto yesterday. What a great show. I knew little about the plot and music etc. but it was amazing. I have seen a few shows in my time : The Phantom of the Opera twice, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat twice, Les Miserables twice, The Lion King and Miss Saigon. My bucket list had a "see Colm Wilkinson play Jean Valjean" and that was done a number of years ago. One of my kids said that when she sees Broadway musicals she imagines herself up there. Because of my decidedly pitiful singing skills and even pitifullier dancing skills that has never been a thought of mine. I did, however, wish I could have been on stage with Carol Burnett doing one of those skits on her TV show. I knew I liked it when I could make people laugh when I got my brother to blow milk out of his nose at the dinner table. What joy.

In the Beginning

I suppose that to start at the beginning is the bestest way to do it. Maybe committing myself to this blogging endeavour will help motivate me to keep writing. Writing classes with homework assignments and deadlines worked pretty good for me in the past. But now I will have to rely on the guilt that I will be inflicting upon myself when my blogging universe will be sitting there with no posts for days or weeks. Oh the shame of it all. So I hereby create this space. For what, I do not truly yet know. Time will tell me what it will become.