Notes from the Blue House

I am swimming with strong, vigorous strokes, cool water all around me. I'm flying through the clear water, like a human torpedo, which is funny because I'm really only capable of a leisurely breast stroke. The crowd is screaming and clapping while I glide along my lane and then a hand pushes on my upper back. It pushes again, shaking me. "Suzie...Suz...the dog wants something. He's downstairs." "hm? wha? I'm winning." "Suz.Berkley wants something" Shit. Now, I'm awake. "Well, he's not breastfed! Why am I awake for this?" I calmly  asked. "I got up with him 2 hours ago." "Really? Maybe he's got the trots, maybe he's really sick!" "Nah, I just took him by the collar and brought him back to bed" I roll out of bed, step on a f**king lego piece, and head for the stairs. I find Berk in the laundry room, growling and groaning at his bone-dry water dish. I fill it for him and

Someone told me once that if you can read, you can sew. Liar. I promise you I can read, I can not, however, sew. Before Christmas, I took a sewing class and came home all puffed up, showing off my brand new pillowcase. Look! It's got a decorative trim! I'm amazing! I might start whipping up all kinds of cute and creative wares, I might get a booth at Farmer's markets and sell out of my stuff every week! No, every day! I might need to hire people! I might need a factory! I might be featured in Canadian Living! I mean, look at this pillowcase-it has puppies on it! Everyone likes puppies. When level 2 was offered, I signed up, ready to continue on my path of creative awakening and success. Before the first class had started, it was evident that I actually suck at this. We were asked to lay and cut our pattern before showing up on the first week; I unfolded the tissue paper pattern and stared at it. What in the what? I turned it every which way and it still didn't make a li

In October 2014 we bought a swoon-worthy house. With 4 bedrooms, a gourmet kitchen and a massive yard, we were pretty excited. We signed on the dotted line and held our breath for the home inspection. While waiting, I proudly sent photos of the shiny new place to our friends and family. Then the home inspection happened. It wasn't good. In fact, it was disastrous. The chimney was leaning away from the house. The basement was chronically wet and was furiously running 2 massive sump pumps without success. The entire thing needed to be rewired and only half of the windows were even functional. We had bought the Fergie Duhamel of houses, it only looked stellar because of all of the "make-up" slapped on it. At one point, our trustworthy home inspector pulled us aside and said "Guys, everything you like about this place was just done to make it look better, there's a lot of trouble here". Feeling like I'd been kicked in the guts by an angry mule, I left to get