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Cool pic of subunit #3

And with my phone camera!

Ain’t I creative!!!!



Well, so much for procreating…

Just dismantled my last crib and replaced it with a bed.

Yet, in 1979 if you would have told me that by the time I hit my mid-40’s, I woulda spawned 3 mini-me’s… well, I woulda told ya you were on a sweet herb.

It’s a bit sad. That’s it. No more babies. No more cribs. No more.

Great in a big way, but very much a reminder of my own mortality in another.

But he had a big, big smile on face when he lay down in his “big boy’s bed” tonight. And that, my friends, makes parenthood, however finite, worth every moment.


On a day like this, I can’t diss anyone – even Harper!

Ah. ‘Tis one of those o-too-rare Ottawa days where the sun is shining, the temps are comfortable, there’s a little breeze in the air and even the kids cooperated by not making my early morning too onerous!


I want to bottle up days like these and open them a little during the dark and depression inducing days of January…


What kind of negative or critical scribblings can I come up with? Hmmm… well, went golfing this morning… and, as usual, I was reminded of just how bad a golfer I really am.

But even THAT didn’t matter. It was a fun day in the sun with friends, muskrats and gophers.  I only lost a few balls and didn’t re-injure my latissimus muscle.

I just scoured the news for something to rant on about re: Our Glorious Leader.  But even the robotman is behaving himself these days. Yeah, there was that whole Catholic faux-pas thing, but who really cares, eh? It is an outdated ritual that belongs in the Dark Ages anyways. Big freakin’ deal.  C’mon Grits – let it go.. if I’m not getting my knickers in a twist about this, then surely your target market ain’t taking it too seriously either.

The subunits are amusing me more than usual lately. The teenmonster has her face “bolt” removed yesterday – her body was rejecting the fact that there was a steel rod embedded just above her cheekbone – go figger.  Addy has been really cuddly lately and was very exciting to start “Treehouse” at her daycare – one level older plus all of her friends had ben transferred there… made her week!

And the O-ster has been speaking SO MUCH lately. Coll stuff that I have NO idea from where he could have picked such phrases as “Cool, man” “OK daddy-O” and, his latest, “bee-zarre dude…”

I love warping molding young minds and personalities.

All in all, Trashy is a happy dude today and is looking forward to a weekend with the family. Yeah, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, but then clear up again on Sunday…

Summer in Canada – gotta love it.



Almost time for our vacation

I love my job. I really do. And my Director doesn’t know I have a blog, so I ain’t just sucking up.

My work is intellectually stimulating, pays very well, varies from day to day, and I am fortunate to work with some real kick-ass righteous folks.


I work to live and don’t live to work. Holidays – time away from work – are what I’m about. Spending time outdoors with my family and mellowing out is what propels me forward in life. I mean, look at my subunits, aren’t they amazing?

IMG_3912 Yeah – I’m a proud Papa who likes to spend the bulk of my time with those who matter most to me – The Resident Love Goddess and my kids.

So I am mega looking forward to the next week. Starting Saturday, I will be away from work for a grand total of a week and a bit.  The weather isn’t looking the greatest at this point, but that will (hopefully) change.

I blogged a while back about where we are travelling to so I won’t go into great detail about that.

My biggest challenge will be to keep all of the kids occupied and happy for the week. If the weather holds, it will be a piece of cake. If it rains, we’ll think of something. I figger that ants and other crawly critters will amuse Owen for at least a few days. Addy will be a bit more of a challenge as she needs semi-constant stimulation else the whining kicks in. But she’ll like being around “real” nature.

Torii is bringing a friend along for the trip – yeah, not crazy about a friend coming along on a family vacation but it was either that or having to deal with a moping teen for 7 days and two 5 1/2 hour car trips. I’m a little worried about how exactly Torii will amuse herself for the week.

Here is what I wrote back in March about what Trashy used to do when a teen on this very same lake:

When I became a teen, I was much more preoccupied with “cruisin” in the search of females rather than baiting hooks. And we did find quite a few – females that is. I, along with a childhood friend, Bill – and of course little bro’ Jim – motored around in our 12 foot aluminum boats with the 7.5 hp Mercury outboards clamped to the transoms. We’d see a boat full of bikinis and quite shamelessly pull up alongside to start a conversation and share a smoke or a beer. We met lots of other kids that way who were on the lakes for the same reasons as we were. To meet other teens and to have fun.

Yeah. Speaking of beer. We did lots of stupid things too. Things that would merit my eldest groundings of unequalled proportions. Like, returning from parties at 2am. In the pitch black. With no running lights aside from a Bic lighter. No lifejackets. And we were never drinking, uh, Diet Coke at these parties.

You see why I’m worried?

That aside, I’m pumped.  And if I find the time – and an internet port – I’ll blog a few scribblings while chillin’ in Parry Sound.


Trashy on the road – part one

Locale: Trudeau Int’l Airport Air Canada Lounge – thanks Bruce!

Doing: Sipping a JW Black on ice. Just finished a coupla bowls of soup and a salad. I forgot to eat lunch.

Weather: Same as Ottawa…


Other less CAPS-on thoughts:

  • I miss the little ones. And C and T-two-i’s too.
  • remember to get an unbreakable gift for Addy
  • I wonder how long it will take to cab from CDG to the hotel
  • I wonder if the hotel will let me check in early
  • Oh shit – they’re playing a clip on the TV about that Air France aircraft. Not what I want to hear.

Next entry – Parlis.


Fathers of daughters…

This was sent to me quite a few years ago before my eldest spawn was anywhere close to “dating” age.

Fellow blogoverse resident XUP recently posted his concerns about his 16 year-old’s first date.  He has a very comprehensive checklist in place. Kudos.

Yet, I prefer this:


When I was in high school I used to be terrified of my girlfriend’s father, who I believe suspected me of wanting to place my hands on his daughter’s chest.  He would open the door and immediately affect a good-naturedly murderous expression, holding out a handshake that, when gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds.

Now, years later, it is my turn to be the dad.  Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates, I do my best to make my daughter’s suitors feel even worse.

My motto:  wilt them in the living room and they’ll stay wilted all night.

‘So,’ I’ll call out jovially.  ‘I see you have your nose pierced. Is that because you’re stupid, or did you merely want to APPEAR stupid’’

As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.

Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure as hell not picking anything up. (more…)


One sick little boy

I’m varying BIG TIME from my rants about Stephen Harper, censorship, the politics of cynicism, the Beijing Olympics, yah-da-yah-da-yah-da.

My little 16 month old son Owen just came home from the hospital that has been his home since early Monday after successfully fighting a Rotavirus.

Man – this is NOT something you want your kids to come in contact with. The poor little guy has been though Hell.

Owen is not a, uh, big guy. You know those growth charts that plot age and weight? Well, he’s looking up at the curves. Tho’ lately he has been gaining weight at a greater rate than other kids his age. But he doesn’t exactly have a lot of “reserve capacity”.

BUT, he somehow contracted this most brutal bug and has been hospitalised since Monday at 7 am. I had to think about the timing considering I am a little punch-drunk at the moment. Sleep deprivation and stress, ya know.

He started showing symptoms (i.e., he threw up) at 11:15 on Thursday night. Was not well through Friday but showed signs of improvement on Saturday. But his fever peaked over Saturday night despite doses of Tylenol. 7 am Sunday, we’re off to CHEO where they try to stick needles in his hand, but he was too dehydrated to present a good vein.

They found a vein in the crook of his arm and we’re admitted. While hospitals are not places that one wants to frequent very often, it was the best place he could be given the circumstances.

So, Colleen spent a couple of nights with him and I did some day duty while at watch over our very ill little boy. We hope that he hasn’t spread this any further.

Addy (4 year old) complained of a headache before bed last night and had a temp of a 100. Called Torii and she’s in bed cuz she doesn’t feel well. But both kids were fine this morning

It was a long few days but he seems much, much better and he is VERY happy to be home – as are we.

Doncha love parenthood?

When will “they” have a vaccination against EVERYTHING?

Oh, and yesterday was the day that Colleen and I should have been celebrating our 7th anniversary.

But most importantly, Owen is better and we can get on with our lives.


New photos

I have finally uploaded some new images to my Photobucket album.


Those small joys

There are times when being a parent is an Everest-type challenge that tries our patience, our judgement and our humour.

And then there are the times when being a parent is the greatest damned job on the planet.

Take this morning, for instance. My little Addy (who is 4) has what was at first glance, scribbled in pen all over her right forearm (she is left-handed). Just as I was about to launch into a 6:30 am lecture about how ink can seep through your pores and turn you into an ogre or something, I looked at the “scribbles” more closely. There were about 5 letters of the alphabet.

Asking what these were, I got the following response:

“They are the letters that start the names of my friends that I love.”

There was a “B” for Brianna. A “J” for James. And so on.

There was no lecture.