O, Canada

I have not been in a blogging kind of mood lately.

I have been reading pulp fiction, and drinking beer, and finishing school (it's done!), and hanging out with my boy, and making jam, and making plans, and making a mess. I have been having nasty arguments with people, and worrying about things that are out of my control and which will more than likely resolve themselves in the next while, anyway.

Also, I have been learning to ride a horse, which is going better than you might think.

I have been eating nachos in a bid for emotional comfort, and spending money on my dog (who is much better now, although she remains very high-mileage and in need of some work on her transmission).

I have been not answering the phone, and meaning to buy a bike, and watering my plants every morning.

I have been knitting the right sleeve of the Central Park Hoodie and wondering what to do with a boy for two months of holidays.

And then I remembered two things: I started this blog a year ago, and I am loving it; and it's Canada Day.

When I worked in the funeral home, I once commented on the number of people who had July 1 as their birthday. Strange, I thought, that so many people from Asian countries were born on the same day...

Not so, said my boss. Sometimes people coming in to Canada know the year they were born, but not the day. They get to pick a birthday, and so they choose either January 1 (because it's my gramma's birthday, of course) or July 1. I find that fact extremely touching.

So happy birthday, Canada - go have a beer. On me.