first world problems in a time of cholera.

I just read an article about cholera in Hati. My first world problems are all in perspective now. Turns out that going to the laundry mat is a lot better than dying of explosive diarrhea because I was washing my clothes BY HAND in an infected river.

ok seriously, this is awesome.

When presented with pitted kalamata olives or vanilla arrowroot cookies, Leila chose the olives. We are like taste bud twins. Raaaaaad.

change of scene.

If we lived in Nelson, we could own this house. Or this house.

Ask me how over this city I am. I've wanted to leave for so long, it's almost the only constant. Where I want to go changes, but wanting to leave never does. Tom doesn't. He suggested Maple Ridge as a compromise. But Maple Ridge is actually my idea of hell. It's not that I can't stand Vancouver, it's just that I don't feel a connection to it. I don't feel satisfied here. I know that to an extent, the only zen you find in a place is the zen you brought there, but I really think there are certain places in the world where it is easier to tap into that inner peace.

I want Leila to have a yard. I want her to be able to go outside and create imaginary stories that she narrates to herself. I want to live in a house that doesn't share walls with my neighbours. I should be grateful for what I have I know, but I can't shake this feeling of slight unease, like I'm in the wrong place. It's like one of those dreams where you're making lattes at school or taking a bath at work. The actions and locations just aren't meeting up.

seriously?

I actually think I'm going to murder my landlord. We have bedbugs again. The laundry has been out for five days. The people downstairs suck. The bathtub faucet has been leaking for over two months. Oh, and did I mention we have fucking bedbugs again? My right arm is covered in giant, itchy, red bumps.

So aggravating. I don't want to move right now because we're hoping to buy a place in January or February, but I also don't know how much longer I can live like this before I'm reduced to mailing anthrax to the slum lords who run our building. (DEAR GOVERNMENT I'M KIDDING).

I want Leila to live somewhere safe and secure without awful bugs attacking her. So far, she hasn't been bitten, but I don't like thinking that she might. Also, they spray in here so often that I'm sure it can't be good for her. It seems ridiculous that I'm constantly feeding her organic food and we come home to a chemical ridden, bug infested apartment. Oh yeah, there are cockroaches too.

Saying, "at least we have a good view" is really not cutting it for me anymore.

every girl needs a dog

All afternoon Leila crawled around Norton and stole his toy out of his mouth. He would gently wrestle with her for a few minutes while she giggled, then he would give up and go back to his spot on the couch, and Leila would would crawl off in delight with her prize. It's amazing for me to see how much she loves him. He makes her laugh when he licks crumbs off her hands, and every time he comes into her view she flaps her arms and screeches with happiness.

Tonight, I went and visited Otter. Otter has been my family's dog since I was in grade five. Otter is a half golden retriever and half mystery dog. When she first came home I slept on the floor next to her kennel for the first three nights so she wouldn't be scared. Growing up, I was always allowed for go for walks by myself if I took her. She is so long-suffering that once, after an episode where she'd been digging in the backyard so much she'd rubbed all the black off her nose, she let me colour her nose black with a felt. I still feel guilty about it. I have cried away broken hearts into her fur, and fed her my early culinary attempts. She loves almost everyone she meets and is remarkably gentle with little kids. She has always, always been there when I needed her, gently putting her head on my lap and looking up at me with big, confiding brown eyes. She has tenderly snuffled Leila, and has tolerated Norton who always tries to play with her even though she is, "so over that." Once, she played tug-of-war with him over a stick at the beach, but she doesn't like to admit it publicly. It was hard to say goodbye to her tonight because there may not be that many more hellos. Hellos where she come running out to greet me, her tail wagging so hard it almost touches her ears. So Otter, please know that I love you so much, you're a good dog, thanks for everything.

Otter loves me despite my choice of tea cozies, I mean hats.

auntie manders wins at life again

Yesterday we had a family day with Amanda. We had breakfast and then went and hung out with parrots at the Bloedel Conservatory in Queen Elizabeth Park. Then came home and made pie. What a perfect Saturday. Thanks for the photos lady.

eight months

Dear Leila,

today you are eight months old. It's your first thanksgiving this weekend and you've become such a little charmer crawling around smiling at your family.

I feel like we're finally starting to string days together into weeks, months even. Before, when you were brand new, everything was just a series of randomly occurring events. Each day we would wake up and tackle every problem like it was the first time. We could never put together time in a way that made sense. We couldn't learn to repeat days into patterns, into weeks, into time. In those early months I felt like we were floating through a void and all we had to keep us afloat was our love. You clinging to me and me to you, bouncing on the blue exercise ball in a poor attempt to emulate the rhythm of waves.

Now that you can laugh, and play and eat bites of my french toast everything is different. You still reach for me when you need me, but now, that's not all the time.

I love you small human,

Mom

Happy babies know that puppy toys are better than human toys.