I remember going back to school in September and my school seemed unfamiliar and I had to get to know it again after being away for so long. Summers were long then. It was nice. Sometime around the middle of highschool there was a September when the unfamiliar feeling wasn’t there anymore; when September felt like March, and  That’s when it started.  It moves so slowly, time,  and then without warning picks up momentum, never slowing down. And the older I get, the faster it goes. 

Time isn’t hard to understand, it has hours which neatly break down into minutes, and then again into seconds. Time’s ubiquity and simplicity should make it simple, but I find it complicated. After being home for nearly a month I’m having trouble reconciling the feeling that we never left with the feeling we just returned. Intellectually I can unpack the competing feelings perfectly well: this has been our home for years, we only left for a few months, we did just return, to our home, which should feel like we never left. But still I’m at odds with time and how its seconds and minutes, which are so regular and predictable, are completely unreliable when it comes to days and months and lives. In the moment it feels like there’s never enough of it, but in retrospect, time seems ample, even wasted. Stupid time. 

So what have I been up to, other than thinking about time that is? Well, we renovated our house. The third floor and big chunk of the second. It took nearly ten weeks and so much money we speak of it only in round, distant-ish numbers (at least I do). The exact figures are on a spreadsheet somewhere, a spreadsheet I’m completely uninterested in ever finding again. Ever. But houses are a bit like babies, and no one is ever as interested in hearing the nitty-gritty as you are in telling it. Mostly. No snaps folks. I have ’em, but if you want to see, come over. We can spend five minutes  on the house and an evening on a bottle of vino. I assure you it’s better that way. 

Naturally family fills up most of my time, and fortunately friends pretty much fill up the rest. Meet Alison, she’s one of the friends that helps fill up my life. Hear that Alison, you’re filler. Feel special? (I wish I had a better picture of Alison, but when I went a-searchin’ all I could find were pictures of her boobs. We have a complicated relationship. Apparently). 

alison schmalison

 

Alison’s funny and laughs out loud, which I like. I’m more of an “inside” laugher, which no one likes. I’m trying to laugh out loud more, because it feels as nice to do as it does to hear, and that’s easy to do around Alison.  

So not only is Alison funny, she’s smart. And a natural blond. And when Kate broke her arm two weeks ago (Simon pushed her off the couch, which is awesome. We didn’t know it was broken for two days, which is even more awesome), Alison sent me encouraging text messages to help ease the boredom of the Sick Kids emergency room. 

arrrrgh!

She’s so awesome I’m not sure if I want to kiss her or smack her in the face. It’s a good thing we’re friends or I’d hate her a lot. (Yes I was calling Alison a “jerk” in an earlier message). 

Thankfully when I’ve had enough of Alison being better than me, I can fill up with another fabulous friend (yes, you too are filler)- Melinda. 

the highlander-ette

I’m sorry Melinda for posting a picture that appears to showcase you either a) holding in… something, or b) about to spit our your beer. Again, face pictures were scarce since you too are friends with Alison. Interestingly both photos were taken at the same bar. On different nights. We are those kinds of friends. 

Melinda is one of those people who whenever you talk about anything she says “oh yeah, I was there.” or “I grew up with that person.” or “no way, we lived off the land together on this island in the Pacific.” Seriously. One of the best things about Melinda is that her full and rich experiences and friendships make her one of the wisest, most gregarious, down-to-earth people I know. Despite the myriad adventures and educational paths Melinda has been on, she’s always ready for more, and has a zest for life that is positively intoxicating.  Yup, she’s good people. 

And then there’s Marc. I don’t know what to say other than dealing with his crazy takes a lot of time. A lot. 

7.5 hours of stupid, 2010

The next message, sent 24 minutes later, is an apology and a declaration that he “sucks.” Yes you do my friend, you suck all  my fucking time. 

There you have it folks, a renovation, too many some drinks with friends, a broken limb and a husband;  that’s where all my time goes. You? 

p.s. If you are my friend and I did not mention you, I am sorry. You are a fine, fine person who I adore and think about all the time. Melinda and Alison happen to to be deeply narcissistic people who thrive on praise and attention and I was worried they wouldn’t be my friend anymore if I didn’t write about them. I’m sure you understand. 

p.p.s 

the case of the missing cake

 Just above Clue Jr., and to the left (her right) of the $5 smoothie she didn’t drink, is Kate’s pink cast. Fibreglass, waterproof, and apparently the ultimate in Kindergarten accessories. Got a 6 year old, get a cast.

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