Short stories

Goose got her finger shmushed in a door again this weekend. I say again, as this is the third time that this has happened in the last year. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, when we were in India, but it was bad enough. I finally got her calmed down enough to see that the damage was minor and that she was not likely to lose the nail. We put a bandage on the small cut, and cuddled while she iced it.

As we cuddled, she talked about how this hurt, but it wasn’t so bad, as Woo had “gently” closed the door on her finger. The damaged digit was her middle finger, and she kept pulling it out from under the ice pack to look at it. I tried to reassure her that it would be OK, but she kept looking down.

“It’s my favourite finger,” she said, holding it up and flipping me off. “Good thing I have another one,” she followed up with, then giving me the double bird. She had no idea why I laughed so hard.

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We went to the sugar bush with some good friends this weekend, friends who happen to have lil people the same ages as ours, which makes hanging out together extra awesome. Shortly after we arrived, we saw that there was to be a walking tour in a few minutes. We waited at the starting point, and by the time that our guide arrived, there were several other families and children there. He started to give us a little history of maple syrup production, and asked if we knew why only Canada and the US produced syrup. I started to ask if it was because sugar maples only grew here, but the guide started speaking at the . I stopped, just as I got the “sh” in sugar out. He then stopped, looked a little taken aback, and asked loud enough for all to hear, “did you just say SHIT?”

I laughed because it was funny, but then looked around, and explained that I tried not use words like that in front of all those children. Poor kid was only 17 or 18; I think he only asked because he was shocked that I would have said it there. Good thing he doesn’t know about the swear jar…

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As the Easter Bunny’s helper, I was tasked with filling and hiding the eggs on Saturday night. We left our plastic eggs for a friend in India last year (plastic eggs are not so common in India), so I bought a new bag this year. Given that it was new, I knew that there were 46 treat filled eggs to be hidden that night. While I did most of it while sitting on the couch with a glass or two of wine, I recruited Willy to help with the hiding. We made short work of it, trying to mix the relatively easy to find eggs with the tricky and clever spots. Satisfied that we had the makings of a good hunt, we went to bed.

The next morning was a flurry of lil people, loving each and every spot that they found an egg. The hunt took about fifteen minutes, and ended with Woo counting the eggs to ensure that they each had the same number. When we were short one, we searched all the spots but still came up empty handed. The lils split the last egg, and we figured it would turn up eventually.

Six hours later, Woo raced into the kitchen with the last egg in his hand. “Look what I found in the chandelier!” he shouted. That is the last time I drink wine before hiding eggs.

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Willy spent a large chunk of time over the weekend working on my laptop. We’d bought a new SSD, so it meant that stuff had to be backed up, partitions moved around, and hardware tinkered with so that my OS and software would run off this new drive, and all of my non-archived pictures (the ones that I still tinker with) could live on the old drive. They were spread across two drives, and I only had access to one, so this news made me extra happy.

By Sunday morning, I had been without my laptop for over a day, and was beginning to get a little twitchy. I walked into the office as Willy was moving some of the images on to the machine, working on the back-ups, and doing some tidying before handing the machine back over. He asked a few questions about some files, then went back to work. I was about to ask for a status update, when something started rapidly scrolling across the screen and Willy frantically started wailing on my keyboard, yelling “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” I backed out of the room, and it was quite a few more hours before I got my laptop back.

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