Lori
I really need a better phone
Because my cell is little better than tin cans and string with a pinhole camera strapped to the top, this is about the best shot I could get of the giant cotton ball clouds in Wolfville tonight:
The cloud balls were more defined and perfectly formed than they appear in this photo, but this should still give you the idea. Kinda neat, huh? I’ve never seen anything quite like them.
Shelf Monkey
Shelf Monkey by Corey Redekop. ECW Press.
From the inside flap:
“Thomas Friesen has three goals in life. Get a job. Make friends. Find a good book to curl up with. After landing a job at READ, the newest hypermegabookstore, he feels he may have accomplished all three.
All is not peaceable within the stacks, however. Discontent is steadily rising, and it is aimed squarely at Munroe Purvis, a talk show host whose wildly popular book club is progressively lowering the IQ of North America.
But the bookworms have a plan. Plots are being hatched. The destruction of Munroe is all but assured. And as Thomas finds himself swept along in the maelstrom of insanity, he wonders if reading a book is all it’s cracked up to be.”
1. I love the word ‘maelstrom,’ don’t you? I really need to find ways to work it into casual conversation more often. I also like ‘skullduggery.’ And ‘fortitude.’ And ‘slipstream.’
2. I love the cover of this book. Kudos (ooh, another good word) to the designer, David Gee, because it was the cover that enticed me to pick up the book in the first place. Yes, I am that shallow.
3. I love the book. It’s smart and funny and creative and (as much as I usually cringe at this word) thought-provoking, raising questions about what qualifies as ‘literature,’ about how our opinions are shaped and by whom, about our compulsion to try to shape the opinions of others, and about the evolution of a society that wants everything to be as easy, comforting and unchallenging as possible.
Very highly recommended.
beach bums
Well, this godforsaken heat wave seems like a good time to hide in the basement and look at the photos from my most recent expedition with the kids. Hint: It’s where the kids and I will move when (not if – when) The Boy Wonder leaves me for JLo. I hear she’s available now. And she’s totally his type, right?
Heh.
See, I can say whatever I want because The Boy Wonder doesn’t actually read this blog unless I stand beside his desk saying, “Did you read my new post?” every forty-five seconds. Which is no different from anyone else I know, actually. Sigh. Is it bad manners to break into the homes of my friends and hold their computers hostage until they promise to leave a comment validating my efforts? Thought so.
In any case, here are the kids in PEI, where, when they aren’t stuffing their faces at the dairy bar, they practically live on the beach:
They dig and build and play and I beachcomb and it’s all very nice. This was my fortieth summer of hanging out on the beach in PEI and I’m still not tired of it. Never will be, I predict.
Here are Foster and Charlotte and something in a red pail:
What could it be?
Hey, it’s Gordon:
Gordon the crab, who was Foster’s best friend for the day. And no, I did not name Gordon after my grandfather. I can’t believe you would think I, of all people, would be so disrespectful. Foster named him and I immediately approved, knowing it would garner a tremendous stink-eye from my mother.
Heh. She doesn’t read this blog either.
We made another friend who (in a first, I believe) went unnamed:
He (she? I’m not up on my starfish boy and girl parts) clung to our hands with the same fervor I reserve for Swiss chocolate bars.
See that little orange dot near the middle of its back? That’s called a madreporite. Its function is to circulate water through the starfish’s body so it can move around and be the best darned starfish it can be. Did you know that?
No you didn’t, liar. Give me a break. Only this guy would have known that and he doesn’t read this blog either. (And on a side note, may I say how awesome it is that there is such a thing as The Echinoblog. I seriously admire those who are so motivated to share their love of and expertise on such a particular topic. It’s such a refreshing change from my own unfocused flakiness.)
And finally, here are the kids masquerading as ocean creatures:
Are there children who are able to pass by these cutout boards and not beg to have their photograph taken? I have never met a kid who could resist.
Oh, and one final pro tip: If you find yourself in Summerside on a Thursday evening, try the pasta buffet at The Loyalist Country Inn on Harbour Drive. The food is good, the price is reasonable and, best of all, kids’ meals are half price. Tell them Lori sent you.
And they’ll say, “Who?”
No, seriously they will. They don’t know me from a hole in the ground.
Anna is thirteen
Have you been wondering what a teenager looks like these days? Wonder no longer:
My big first baby turned the big one-three on June 24. Next year, I might have to bake a sheet cake to fit all the candles.
At least she gets candles. Fire regulations prohibit candles on my cake now. Safety first, etc.
Here she is, opening one of her few gifts that wasn’t jewellery:
She has a thing about jewellery in the same way I have a thing about books. And wool. And bags. And office supplies. And vegetable seeds.
Here she is with her brudda and sista:
Three birthdays within a month. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
“You need to have another baby,” Anna said a few days after her birthday.
I know it’s out of character, but I might have said something the tiniest bit impolite, like, “Good God, why?”
“Because three birthdays aren’t enough. We need someone with another birthday so we can have another cake.”
I maybe, possibly, just might have snorted and rolled my eyes. “I think I’d rather skip the baby part and just bake another cake.”
The kids erupted in cheers and exchanged high fives. Snookered me again. This is exactly how I got scammed into owning two dogs, a cat and a fish. These kids are good.