tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-148954492012-02-16T02:12:53.415-05:00Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086887586455367929noreply@blogger.comBlogger9031100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-82504731710218480612012-02-13T11:16:00.000-05:002012-02-13T11:18:04.864-05:00

There is no fun way to write or read about vomit, so I will spare you the details. Let’s just say there was a lot of it at my place this weekend. Related; Dear Maintenance Person at the North Huron Wescast Community Complex,I’m sorry.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-77933381408198143902012-02-02T23:38:00.001-05:002012-02-02T23:41:45.503-05:00

Let’s just ignore the fact that I woke up at 3:30 am to the dulcet sounds of my cat vomiting, and carry on shall we?Tonight was pottery and somehow, through an act of god , I managed to throw 2 pretty decent sized pots. And by decent? I mean humongous. Of course I deliberately photographed my bowl next to Darlene’s cups because I’m an asshole. Darlene would like to point out that she MEANT for

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-18467303447138278372012-02-01T21:54:00.003-05:002012-02-01T22:04:44.676-05:00

Don't look now, but this is the face of a cat who has not thrown up in four days. Since we brought her home after Christmas, Sev has found new and exciting places to yak on. Twice I've come from from work to find cat vomit coating the windowsill and yes, even dripping down the wall. Gosh. I hope you weren't having your lunch. I told Ben this shit was not going to fly, and so we've been tinkering

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-6625287531613845522012-01-31T20:03:00.004-05:002012-01-31T20:18:36.155-05:00

Darlene informed me yesterday that I hadn't updated in 2 weeks and 2 days. And now here we are, another day later. Below, Ben is getting in touch with his inner baby gangster. I didn't have the heart to tell him that tough guys don't usually eat croissants while reading the funnies...at Starbucks.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-9997022426380617512012-01-15T11:18:00.006-05:002012-01-15T11:33:26.760-05:00

The best thing about a lazy Sunday morning is waking up in the sunny patch of the bed. Other things approaching that level of awesomeness are as follows:Reading the newspaper over breakfastThe moment you shift from 3rd to 4th Inside jokesThe little wave you get when you let someone cut in during rush hour trafficHearing your favourite song come on while you're stuck in line at the grocery

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-80444272054005872612012-01-13T13:34:00.004-05:002012-01-13T13:50:57.697-05:00

I believe the following illustration accurately represents the tragic events of last night:Not shown: everyone else in the world sound asleep like normal people.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-45179042966869243242012-01-12T12:49:00.002-05:002012-01-12T12:55:13.156-05:00

Almost 2 years ago my company punted a few of our departments across the road to an overflow office until they could sort out a more permanent solution. As of tomorrow, we move back across the street into our new digs. Most of us are excited about being reunited with everyone else because while a good ball player could probably toss a ball between the two buildings, we might as well be in Siberia

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-34922678379033025412012-01-08T16:01:00.004-05:002012-01-08T16:04:40.400-05:00

Saturday Darlene came over and we made soup. I use the term "we" very loosely here because I haven't grocery shopped in over three weeks, which means the only things in my fridge are a container of spinach, a jug of cranberry juice, two sticks of butter, one container of greek yogurt and (inexplicably) three bottles of poppy seed dressing. Also, I didn't do anything outside of chop a few onions.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-37538743384262870672012-01-04T16:03:00.004-05:002012-01-04T16:18:09.758-05:00

Since I brought the cat home, I've been really good about keeping Bex on a leash so the poor animal isn't terrorized. Turns out, I think the animal to watch for is that fucking cat. She's totally sweet about 97% of the time however, if the dog is even skirting around the edges of her radar (read: breathing) all bets are off. Sev likes to spend most of her day sleeping in the window of my bedroom

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-81443209182375713402011-12-28T21:55:00.002-05:002011-12-28T21:58:41.275-05:00

Without getting into any humiliating details, this is our new cat. She's basically adorable and currently camped out in my room waiting for Bex to die. Ben is smitten and I'm still trying to figure out how a "visit" to Grandma Cheese's netted me a cat.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-61056644582456857062011-12-24T11:28:00.002-05:002011-12-24T11:32:18.986-05:00

In a few minutes, Ben and I will be loading into the car and heading up north to visit with our family. But before we left, I forced Ben to sit for a few photos. I was going for something dignified. Instead, I got this:Hope everyone has a safe and drunken holiday. See you next year. M

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-52553830964102770222011-12-11T10:01:00.003-05:002011-12-11T10:30:19.270-05:00

I'm a drunk hugger. I'm a sober hugger too, but drunk? There is no limit to the number of times I will bear hug you and declare you, "THE BEST PERSON EVER, OMG. I LOOOOOOVE YOU!" Occasionally, I will also make drunk phone calls. And occasionally those friends record the calls and then forward them back to you the next day. It's good to have friends.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-84162579772837444122011-12-08T08:38:00.009-05:002011-12-08T09:25:30.316-05:00

Derek and I have a weird relationship, in that we're like siblings who really like each other while at the same time, fighting constantly. We bicker almost non stop and most of our conversations are completely inane. On top of that, we have 18 years worth of inside jokes that we continually add to. One of fall backs is "Blueberry fritter, bitch" which is the text message that we'll send to each

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-56881717045224673712011-11-29T14:16:00.001-05:002011-11-29T14:16:47.525-05:00

At my office there is a “Workplace Hazard Inspection Report” posted on the bulletin board near the photocopier. In six months, we’ve only had a single safety hazard to document. The report reads as follows: Infraction: Box beside deskRecommendation: Move boxOutcome: Box movedAh. The sweet smell of bureaucracy.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-236935969453109472011-11-28T13:27:00.004-05:002011-11-28T13:40:02.926-05:00

Dear Ben,This past weekend you spent some time with your dad. When I picked you up on Sunday afternoon, it was raining. For a minute the three of us stood in the drizzle making small talk about the weather in Labrador. "It was raining when we brought you home from the hospital," I told you. "I wore flip flops and your dad drove like a grandpa. We both felt like we'd gotten away with robbing a

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-33966142090530335962011-11-27T20:01:00.002-05:002011-11-27T20:04:56.718-05:00

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-30697410828848327502011-11-25T09:06:00.002-05:002011-11-25T09:08:41.701-05:00

My drive to work was quiet yesterday morning. Quiet in that I drove along with the music loud enough to rattle the windows. Oh. And also the bass made my teeth vibrate; that was fun. On my drive I looked out for my regulars: a blue pick-up truck with local fencing logo, an old white passenger van with black, spray-paint graffiti on the side and the Moe’s Cartage transport truck with the dent in

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-88073806772153313442011-11-22T09:57:00.001-05:002011-11-22T09:57:44.360-05:00

I got together for coffee with Darlene a few days ago. Darlene, as you know, is my arch nemesis in pottery. Every week we sit side by side and compete for Lisa’s attention. As if that’s not enough, we constantly put Lisa on the spot, demanding to know who she likes better. For every compliment she hands out, we’re quick to inject, “But you like my bowl best, right? RIGHT, Lisa, RIGHT?” Lisa, of

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-59058829274401937932011-11-19T13:08:00.003-05:002011-11-19T13:09:37.713-05:00

Wake me up at 5:30 am, and I'll likely let you do whatever you damn well please.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-29437169204419125382011-11-14T08:29:00.001-05:002011-11-14T08:30:38.282-05:00

At 20, Josh still introduces me to his friends as his babysitter. I met him when he was 2 and over the next 4 years, I taught him to tie his shoes, print his name, and add/subtract with pistachio nuts. When other kids were writing about Terry Fox and Wayne Gretzky for school assignments, Josh wrote about me and how I taught him to skate. Years later, I taught him how to drive stick and lectured

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-27274173726471054782011-11-13T13:10:00.009-05:002011-11-14T11:12:42.902-05:00

After a few weeks of feeling emotionally threadbare, I took some time off work. I spent it mostly at Starbucks, ironically working. It was a much needed break though. For some reason, it’s more enjoyable to answer emails while you’re kicking back with a latte and some David Grey. In between that, I had lunch out with a few different friends and I indulged in a manicure. I still don’t feel 100%

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-19406086473562863012011-11-12T11:24:00.003-05:002011-11-14T09:27:48.118-05:00

Always Gold, Radical Face.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-3809750633234730732011-11-11T08:00:00.005-05:002011-11-14T09:28:11.492-05:00

You may not remember me. My name is Michelle. I used to have a blog or something? Last night was pottery. I’ve made 18 bowls this time and not one of them is smaller than a large(ish) cereal bowl. I’m pretty proud of this, to be honest. I’m working with around 4lbs of clay each time and I’ve only irreparably fucked up a few of them. While this doesn’t sound that impressive, trust me. It is. Here

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-22543891978804109892011-11-07T09:05:00.004-05:002011-11-13T13:32:51.937-05:00

This weekend I took the kids to the Elora Gorge for a hike. The Haberkids aren’t quite a seasoned as Ben when it comes to making car trips, but they survived. Mark, by falling asleep and Rachel by working on her bored teenage-glare. (She’s very good!) Once we got there though, the kids took off screaming through the woods. In hindsight, it was my perfect opportunity to abandon them for dead and I

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-76367551921929356882011-11-05T16:53:00.008-04:002011-11-14T09:28:36.499-05:00

As an infant and toddler, Ben overwhelmingly looked like his dad. In a lot of ways, he still does. I don't see it much in our day-to-day activities because his personality is 100% Ben. But every now and then when I'm uploading photos, I can't help but think, "Holy shit, kid. You look like your dad."

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-64633934658170917802011-10-24T11:57:00.003-04:002011-10-24T12:00:48.912-04:00

First things first: I totally dropped the ball on my last face. YOU’RE SHOCKED, I CAN TELL. Moving on:Friday night, after mowing down on Chinese food at the Habers, Ben and I went out and bought his Halloween costume. This marks the first year he’s been interested (read: obsessed) in all sorts of scary, gorefest costumes; the bloodier, the better as luck would have it. We finally settled on his

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-24966998008923731912011-10-17T22:09:00.003-04:002011-10-17T22:13:19.724-04:00

What? She totally has a face.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-31912475435081901082011-10-16T19:46:00.005-04:002011-11-14T09:30:22.265-05:00

To hear Derek talk, I'm doing Ben some huge genetic disservice by not watching football with him. While I highly doubt that's true, there is something about a boy and his team colours.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-26133291039425131972011-10-16T13:46:00.003-04:002011-10-16T13:51:30.193-04:00

I’ve kept a journal, in some form or another, my entire life. Weirdly, the only time I didn’t journal (much) was the 10+ years I was with Ben’s dad. Today, I finally managed to force myself through the last box of our marriage which has been sitting in my bedroom closet all this time. Mostly, it was bank records and the sort of documents that get generated when you build a new house together. In

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-90618051406812513252011-10-15T03:03:00.003-04:002011-11-14T09:31:00.175-05:00

It feels like cheating to use Ben's mug in these 5 days, but I figured screw it. He's got a face and I have to see it all the goddamn time. You might as well too.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-8608442860994837082011-10-14T04:32:00.004-04:002011-11-14T09:31:27.041-05:00

This is Jenn. She's very accommodating when you force her to sit down after pottery so you can snap 50 million photos of her. Which is just to say that Day of 1 of 5 is officially under my belt. Booyah motherfuckers.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-39481060190326153862011-10-13T10:54:00.002-04:002011-10-13T10:56:00.352-04:00

So a week ago (or probably more, who’s keeping score anyway?) I emailed my dear friends, Agatha & Carolyn and said, “Okay SERIOUSLY. One photo, per day, for five days straight. I can’t possibly set the bar any lower. And……go!”They were quickly game. Agatha went to a music festival and shot her ass off. Carolyn went to Utah and shot some cactus plants in addition to having a fabulous vacation.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-83702786643750096742011-10-12T08:46:00.002-04:002011-10-12T09:07:02.936-04:00

This morning, having left my wallet and its entire contents (including 300 in cash, don’t ask) at my office the night before, I raided Ben’s piggy bank. The rattling of change outed me so Ben came shuffling out of the bathroom, spitting toothpaste everywhere, in order to ask me (and I’m paraphrasing here), “What the fuck, woman?”“I’m borrowing some money from you,” I told him. “Wuhy?” “Because I

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-18466807819560426202011-09-30T14:54:00.003-04:002011-09-30T15:01:54.110-04:00

From Great Neck, New York, United States: if your reading this you owe me a blowjob

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-88050489253902754482011-09-30T09:56:00.009-04:002011-11-14T09:29:28.754-05:00

Pottery is back in full swing, which is just to say that Darlene and I are once again competitively vying for the affection of our instructor. Speaking of Darlene, it only took her a few minutes to remember how infuriating the whole process can be. I, on the other hand, am a totally motherfuckin' zen potter and if Darlene wants to tell you otherwise, she’ll have to get her own blog. This session

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-58840049190793221342011-09-27T08:16:00.004-04:002011-09-27T08:33:03.538-04:00

Last week at this time, Ben and I were in New Brunswick with my mom and grandmother. I went along as designated driver and Ben just went along for kicks. Initially we were supposed to go to Winnipeg so my grandmother could visit her cousin, but plans changed and grandma decided she wanted to see the east coast instead. A few emails later, and we’d lined up a little rental cottage near Parlee

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-60335078314244155882011-09-25T14:36:00.006-04:002011-09-25T15:01:38.388-04:00

No one really likes talking about the perks that go along with being divorced. They are sometimes few and far between, but don't let anyone ever tell you they're not there. For example, I probably have more "free" time than my "intact family" friends. Most of the people I know have insane schedules leaving them so bogged down that they don't have much time for themselves, let alone lazy Sunday

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-14369255072643339352011-09-11T08:06:00.002-04:002011-09-11T08:17:21.863-04:00

Because Wendy is insane, she invited a million people and their rowdy children over for a BBQ/housewarming party last night. In short, there was good food and a water balloon fight. Nicole only made four people cry. For the most part, I hung out with Nicole's first victim, Lauren. Lauren is a chirpy little thing who gives you a sound thumbs up when you remember your own name. We're pretty sure

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-65596698012469246592011-09-08T14:58:00.002-04:002011-09-08T15:00:58.320-04:00

Since my last post I’ve:• Got a new fridge.• Painted my apartment. • Cleaned all things.• Confirmed the guest judges for my 2011 photo grant. • Created a Facebook page for said grant.• Flirted with a fall trip to New York• Booked time off work for a 3-day trip to New Brunswick.• Baked a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip muffins.• Grocery shopped. Twice.• Made three back to school lunches (groan). •

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-50356506188216320232011-08-30T10:22:00.003-04:002011-08-30T10:34:29.324-04:00

I don’t think I ever mentioned it here before, but on our trip to Hawaii, Ben and I had a small adventure getting from the airport to our condo. Our flight leaving the mainland was a few hours behind the group so we were traveling alone. Once we landed in Kauai, there was a mix up with the rental car. I’d booked a convertible, but they had me down for a Jeep. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-66300476908736500212011-08-29T09:12:00.001-04:002011-08-29T09:13:58.286-04:00

I’m pretty sure this is the beginning of the end: In other news, I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t blog for the money. If I did, we’d be squatting in a cardboard box under a bridge, eating a rancid can of cold beans. I don’t have an excuse, just a major case of apathy. Not to worry, pottery will be starting again soon and I’m sure there will be lots of muddy mayhem to report then.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-74561979386668105162011-08-14T16:24:00.005-04:002011-08-14T16:56:25.466-04:00

Late Saturday afternoon, Ben and I were about to leave for Guelph when Carolyn called. We were on our way to see the Warped 45's do a benefit set for the Woman's Crisis Shelter but Carolyn whipped out a few free tickets to the Toronto FC instead. A few hours later and we were sitting at a private, field-side table dodging practice balls. Ryan, Pre-gaming. Not Shown: Carolyn's tiny

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-37616150280139315162011-08-07T18:28:00.005-04:002011-08-07T18:40:23.691-04:00

Friday, I met with a financial planner. I'm happy to report that there were no tears shed in his office, even though we rang up my credit score in order to see where I really stood. Overall, the appointment went really well. We discussed where I was financially a few years ago (the gutter) to where I am right now, to where I'd like to be in a few years. At one point The Planner looked up from all

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-21415422905680782902011-08-05T09:15:00.002-04:002011-08-05T09:42:14.141-04:00

In a feat of elevator engineering genius, the emergency alarm button is located directly under the door close button. It’s a red button designed to draw your attention. Obviously, like a rat to shiny objects, I’ve somehow managed to become totally fixated by it. Every day when I leave work, I get into the elevator and mentally coach myself. “Don’t hit the wrong button, don’t hit the wrong button,

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-63780078531009464852011-08-04T13:50:00.003-04:002011-08-04T13:59:00.331-04:00

Ben’s been spending the week at my parents house. In his absence, I’ve noted a few other things that are missing:1) The toothpaste scum normally caking the bathroom sink. 2) His discarded flip flops in the middle of the landing. 3) His bayblades that usually litter the living room floor. 4) The annoying little plastic YOP caps normally left on the kitchen counter.5) The sticky knives streaked

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-7787512048756700482011-08-02T13:23:00.003-04:002011-08-02T13:26:29.193-04:00

I have a confession to make. I didn’t read my camera manual this past weekend. To be honest, I didn’t even look for it. I do have a pretty good idea where I tucked it, so all is not lost. Instead, I plowed through a few Sookie Stackhouse novels – and I use the term “novel” in the loosest possible sense of the word. I can’t even explain how horrible the books are. They’re like if VC Andrews and

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-10533075759373771962011-08-01T17:09:00.005-04:002011-08-01T17:29:26.247-04:00

Ben spent most of the weekend with his dad. I got to see him for a few hours before I left on Sunday, and believe me, he wasn't sorry to see me go. In fact, on walking into my parents house, he loudly announced, "Let the spoiling begin!" It was a quiet weekend without him around underfoot. I used to really look forward to those breaks, but not so much anymore. Ben and I talked about it a few

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-83575645538017678352011-07-28T10:23:00.006-04:002011-07-28T10:34:45.315-04:00

I can be hopelessly lazy about things, even things I enjoy doing. One of them has been my camera. I know enough about my camera in order to produce decent photos, but I don't nearly handle it as competently as I should. I've vowed (snort, if you must) to finally remedy this. Step one, is reading the manual finding the manual; step two is reading it. Report back on Monday if you'd like to listen

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-47206068760090515692011-07-25T17:32:00.005-04:002011-07-25T17:45:11.875-04:00

A little over a week ago, I was reading Chookoolonnks. Karen posted some art work by Eric Orchard, which I immediately fell in love with. It took me approximately five seconds to email Eric asking if he'd do a portrait of Ben. He asked for a few photos and voila! Today this arrived in my in box. I can't wait to have this printed out on canvas. Much like Karen said, this is the best 50 bucks

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-7749122626390143602011-07-25T08:06:00.003-04:002011-07-25T09:21:08.083-04:00

Friday night I went out with Deanne. She pointed out that it’s been awhile since I did a "Shit People Google" post. Allow me to correct the oversight. I CAN ONLY ASSUME IT WAS LOUDLY BLURTED OUT WHILE IN LINE AT THE BANK:“Look mummy foreskin” --Sydney, New South Wales, AustraliaI ONCE FOUND A POLAROID OF A NUDE MAN ON TOP OF MY DRYER. TRUE STORY. “found nude photos of my boyfriend” --Newark, Ohio

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-22015706594089362532011-07-24T12:12:00.013-04:002011-07-24T12:52:06.601-04:00

Yesterday I mentioned that I was going through old photographs. A huge chunk of those photos were of Ben, my nieces, and the Pudd boys. There weren’t many of me in the mix, although a few from my lesbian chic phase did rear their ugly head. My lesbian years, for those of you not in the know, was a period of 2 years where I misguidedly wore my hair very short and spiky. I was going for a flirty

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-6568178893420689002011-07-23T19:13:00.002-04:002011-07-23T19:16:31.137-04:00

Today I spent a lot of time sorting through a gigantic catch all of old photos. My long-term plan is to convert them all to digital. I'd also like to put them into some sort of order or collection. The problem is, I have high hopes and low ambition. Still, some of them I thought were really amusing. Like these two shots of Ben, age 3.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-4704377034993611822011-07-18T18:03:00.007-04:002011-07-19T06:23:19.208-04:00

Yesterday I spent a huge chunk of the day in the blistering hot (zero hyperbole, I swear) sun. At 10 o’clock, Ryan dropped Carolyn off at City Hall so we could join up with a photo crawl that was happening downtown Kitchener. We abandoned ship around noon and went down to Ribfest at Victoria Park where we met up with Deanne. Afterwards we all headed over to Dar’s for a dip in their pool. It

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-30150101906605811012011-07-08T14:54:00.009-04:002011-07-08T15:10:07.177-04:00

Recent identity theft aside, *cough, Carolyn, cough* Chapters knows me pretty damn well. Not only do they track my annual sales volume (a mathematical figure not fit for public consumption) they also got the Ben to Mom ratio correct when they made this month's book recommendations:Based on your purchases and your preferences, we would like to personally recommend some items that may be of

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086887586455367929noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-27715941822198480632011-07-07T15:19:00.002-04:002011-07-07T15:26:03.968-04:00

A few months ago, Ben got a new bike. He picked it out himself and once we got home, we christened it “The Red Devil” because, as I told Ben very seriously, “You’ve always gotta name your wheels.” Usually he just bikes ahead of me whenever I take Bex out for a walk. Lately though, he’s been going off on his own. Every morning this week he’s biked to and from the sitters without any supervision

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086887586455367929noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-71779611890469932632011-07-05T09:33:00.004-04:002011-07-05T09:49:07.972-04:00

For the long weekend Ben and I made nice with our pool-owning friends. Although, Dar would probably argue that the adjective “nice” should never be used in any sentence that relates to me. Still, she invited us over to her Pool Party / BBQ / Outdoor movie night anyway. Wisely, we did not decline the invitation. Amber’s family also did not decline the invitation and midway through the afternoon

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086887586455367929noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-30937178775642525122011-07-04T22:01:00.004-04:002011-07-04T22:16:55.491-04:00

Last week my mom came to visit for a few days. She brought her dog (and I used the term dog very loosely) with her. His name is Bailey but I like to refer to him as Napoleon. Mildly put, he's a miserable, territorial, bug-eyed little bugger. If you move suddenly, touch any of his things, or even look in the direction of my parents he'll attack you. My dad says he's sheltered. I expect Charles

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-61460237614187687462011-06-28T15:38:00.002-04:002011-06-28T15:42:11.118-04:00

I love the Farmers Market in St Jacobs. Usually on weekends it's so crowded that you don't so much as move through the crowd as you move with it. It's like a human riptide and the more you fight against it, the further out to sea you get sucked. Given that I generally hate people, you'd think this would annoy the ever loving shit out of me, but shockingly it doesn't. There's just something

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-67455449743903673122011-06-28T12:45:00.002-04:002011-06-28T12:48:27.824-04:00

Ben has transitioned into the front seat of the car. He likes riding shot gun and fiddling with the music. He likes hanging one arm out the open window. I catch him making faces in the side mirror when he thinks I’m not paying attention. He usually sits next to me with one leg crossed over the other, his flip flop hanging loosely off his big toe. He has scabs, scratches, bruises and freckles.

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086887586455367929noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-57603712985961055482011-06-24T14:39:00.005-04:002011-06-27T10:34:59.213-04:00

A few weeks ago I had Rachel, Mark and Ben after school for a few hours. They were good for about five minutes before declaring that they were going to die from boredom. “Go outside, read a book, make some art, play a board game” I rattled off. All of it was a no-go. Eventually we flipped through Ben’s science book and picked out a few experiments to test. One of them was a “create your own

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-70866728120411744982011-06-22T22:07:00.004-04:002011-06-22T22:19:54.383-04:00

Tonight before bed, Ben and I ended up having wrestling match. The dog was quick to jump into the mix too, which frankly was unfair because while you're trying to throw a screaming nine year old off you, the last thing you need is a 30lb dog panting in your face with her, "I just licked my own ass" breath. Anyway, it occurred to me while Ben's knee was crushing my windpipe, that we’re at the

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-46401812296618972972011-06-20T18:22:00.000-04:002011-06-20T18:23:17.066-04:00

Dear Ben, Saturday night we loaded up the car with blankets and pillows and headed over to Owen Sound to catch a few movies at the drive in. On the way there you had a lot of questions. How will we hear the movie, you wanted to know. Do we just stay inside the car? Will there be popcorn like at the regular movies and (because I always drive home the expense of things) was this a better deal than

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-4588691143788132562011-06-17T10:12:00.005-04:002011-06-17T10:21:45.973-04:00

I'm in the middle of a photo project with a few friends (30 photos in 30 days). Of course being sick didn't help with my lack of photo mojo so now I'm behind two days instead of just one (figures). Anyway, last night I did pick up my camera to shoot a few frames of Ben and the dog. Which leads me to a short discussion on why I love aperture:The aperture priority is awesome because it allows you

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-53556960653175442672011-06-16T18:37:00.003-04:002011-06-16T18:42:08.912-04:00

I spent most of last night rearranging all of my internal organs and decorating the toilet bowl with my dinner. It was awesome. Finally, around 5:30 in the morning, I called in sick to work. I spent the rest of the day on the couch. When Ben got home from school, he and Bex crowded me out because they're jerks like that.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-22610117933473414882011-06-14T08:41:00.000-04:002011-06-14T08:42:28.635-04:00

Poor Carolyn. She has the misfortune of waking up to text messages from me. Texts that were sent in the middle of the night. Texts like this one:Do you ever do that thing where you get up in middle of the night to go pee but don’t bother turning the lights on? But not only that, you keep your eyes closed and just feel your way along thinking “fuck man, I would rock the shit out of being a blind

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-82808352512387497662011-06-13T09:39:00.003-04:002011-06-13T09:48:33.783-04:00

Are you familiar with the children’s book, If You Give A Mouse A Cookie? It’s one of those stories that highlights the slow (or not so slow) unraveling of how one thing leads to another. Which totally happened to me this weekend. Sunday morning Ben and I drove Mark to his ball practice. Afterwards we ran some errands, ending with a quick stop to Home Depot. “You know,” I said to Ben. “When

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-42427074288637509602011-06-11T23:32:00.003-04:002011-06-12T00:00:14.696-04:00

o·a·sis/ōˈāsis/Noun1. A fertile spot in a desert where water is found.2. A pleasant or peaceful area or period in the midst of a difficult, troubled, or hectic place or situation.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-2383810372064675602011-06-10T16:26:00.003-04:002011-06-10T16:29:30.887-04:00

New York:London:

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-64027659944895027282011-06-08T11:14:00.004-04:002011-06-08T11:21:23.260-04:00

Last night, after tucking Rachel and Mark into bed, I came downstairs to find Ben sitting on the Haber couch. “I read your blog,” he said, getting up to meet me. I looked and sure enough, my laptop was left open on the cedar chest. “Where’s my picture?” he wanted to know.“Your picture?” I echoed. “I thought you said you didn’t want me to put your pictures on the internet anymore?” “Well that one

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-1260993346564801312011-06-07T20:21:00.001-04:002011-06-07T20:22:59.527-04:00

Occasionally, on evenings when it’s 30 degrees and you have no access to central air, it’s good to have friends with pools. It is especially enjoyable when their kids are cute.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-18828559429759071442011-06-07T15:11:00.002-04:002011-06-07T15:12:31.116-04:00

...because OF COURSE I would love this video:3-Way Street from ronconcocacola on Vimeo.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-63502518836784467972011-06-07T10:59:00.013-04:002011-06-07T11:41:28.598-04:00

(Man, this thing was easier to update when I was on vacation)Right now I have a giant, festering red blister on my right palm because I will not ask for help. You see, this past weekend I managed to assemble a dresser, take down a bunch of photos and shelves, move every single (not exaggerating here, Amy) piece of furniture in my apartment, clean all the things, and then move every single piece

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-67096443029643728792011-05-31T22:02:00.002-04:002011-05-31T22:08:29.648-04:00

A few months ago this was an empty house on an unused lot. Then slowly, they started demolishing it. Every day I’d drive by and see a lonely-looking front door swung open. Inside the place was vacant. Most of the windows had been smashed in. Half the roof was missing and the porch was dismantled. I thought the open door under the street lights at night would make a great shot and I kept meaning

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-36039441227870411402011-05-29T21:59:00.004-04:002011-05-29T23:08:08.385-04:00

17 hours, 2 time zones, 4 connections (possibly 1 crop duster) and we're home. I wish I were kidding about the crop duster. Our flight out of New Jersey ended up being a tiny little plane that could have doubled as a kids tub toy. It was loud and the floor actually vibrated the entire two hours that we were on board. Ben wondered what would happen if the propeller flew off. I told him we'd go

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-83765384763554188992011-05-28T10:20:00.002-04:002011-05-28T10:24:41.482-04:00

My paranoia regarding the rather sketchy alarm in this place left me completely unable to sleep last night, which is just to say that I'm about to begin the 17 hour trek home with more baggage under my eyes than all of United's checked luggage. In short, we are officially in transit.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-49193097589483101812011-05-28T05:01:00.005-04:002011-05-31T13:08:59.449-04:00

It's going on 11 o'clock and I still haven't started packing yet. We leave in five hours so I should be motivated to do more than this, but I'm not. Instead, I'm sitting here watching Ben doze. He's asleep in the window bed, one arm thrown over his bare chest. Outside, the sound of the ocean is rolling in on the breeze.Ben has made me promise to bring him back here someday."Pinky swear," he said,

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-56946223767115803552011-05-27T23:12:00.007-04:002011-05-30T12:54:16.947-04:00

Today Margaret Ann and I set out to visit what Twain dubbed the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. I took a wrong turn and we somehow ended up at the ass end of the canyon which, in case you were wondering, was something less than the stellar view we were hoping for. The drive tested Ben's patience so we abandoned the quest in favour of the pool. I figure we needed a good reason to come back to Hawaii

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-54889576978411430172011-05-27T05:02:00.004-04:002011-05-30T12:55:08.941-04:00

I'm not sure how it happened so fast, but tomorrow is our last full day in Hawaii. Ben and I are both weeping sad, bitter tears while plotting ways to avoid going home. I knew this vacation was going to be pretty amazing, but I wasn't even close to prepared for how beautiful this place has been. Today Ben and I had an early swim in the pool before heading out for a drive up the coast. We stopped

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-46471513451390674412011-05-25T16:24:00.002-04:002011-05-25T16:27:09.007-04:00

I wasn't able to publish this on Nic's birthday, but the sentiment still holds.Dear Nicole, In my grade seven French class we used to watch episodes of telefrancais. At the time, my French teacher was an old battleax of a woman who would march around the room, slapping a ruler against the palm of her hand. I hated her and that damn singing pineapple. Needless to say, my French didn’t advance much

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-46791346521932010872011-05-22T21:02:00.001-04:002011-05-22T21:05:35.788-04:00

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-88644513058709891952011-05-21T12:31:00.002-04:002011-05-21T12:37:40.046-04:00

When they tell you “be to the airport three hours before international flights” …you should believe them. I had intended to only give us two hours because Ben and I weren’t checking luggage. Unfortunately, we ended up leaving 20 minutes later than I initially planned. It wasn’t intentional; just that last minute crap that comes up as you’re walking out of your house for a week. You know, the

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-91804966689600522102011-05-09T23:56:00.003-04:002011-05-10T00:03:37.354-04:00

Tonight I talked Ben into getting a haircut. At first he wasn't willing but then I offered not to take him to Hawaii next week, and he promptly changed his tune. Once we got home, he started messing around with it - hoping to get it spiked into some sort of faux hawk. Above is the culmination of his efforts, namely 15 minutes alone in the bathroom and I'm sure far more hair wax than was strictly

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-13349741778542045482011-05-07T09:57:00.002-04:002011-05-07T09:59:40.402-04:00

For the first few years of our separation, Ben’s dad and I continued to acknowledge our birthdays and other holiday’s on Ben’s behalf. It eventually fell by the wayside and for a while I was upset. I’d convinced myself it was an important show of solidarity in order to teach Ben …something. Eventually (I’m sometimes slow) it dawned on me that a true sense of appreciation doesn’t come in the form

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-15740973238886692092011-05-06T15:14:00.001-04:002011-05-06T15:17:08.362-04:00

Twice this week I’ve had weird, vivid dreams. I don’t remember anything about the dreams, just that they were in French and that I spoke/understood everything fluently. Obviously I Googled the SHIT out of that. Popular consensus shows that I am either:1) Stressed about things I cannot understand or 2) Was French in a previous life.By far my favourite comes courtesy of Yahoo Answers: it means

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-15000992499276935962011-05-05T20:43:00.003-04:002011-05-05T20:46:09.656-04:00

Tonight Ben got a new pair of flip flops. Once we got home, I tried them on. "Ben," I said. "Check this out."I walked around in his new shoes while he fist punched the air over his head. "Yes! Finally!" he said. "I'm almost as big as you!""Yep, you sure are," I agreed. That's when Ben dropped the hammer. "You must be so embarrassed."

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-45261798138006386672011-05-03T12:48:00.002-04:002011-05-03T12:55:54.017-04:00

Last night I took Ben with me to the polling station, forgetting of course that I’m supposed to start leaving him home alone for short, controlled periods of time. (Whoops) Regardless, it was a great learning tool because he was very curious about the elections. As it turns out, nine year olds think there are a lot of confusing terms in Canadian politics, ie: ridings, parties, seats, majorities,

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-83766337456190903112011-05-02T21:15:00.002-04:002011-05-02T21:25:36.860-04:00

I'm pretty sure it's all going to end in tears tonight. How sad is it that at this point, I'm just hoping for another minority government? Spoiler Alert: pretty fucking sad.

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-17228738550348452192011-04-30T11:21:00.001-04:002011-04-30T11:23:23.039-04:00

If I had a cooking show, this would be it:

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-86137357694248827372011-04-28T13:57:00.000-04:002011-04-28T13:58:11.446-04:00

1. She sends me funny BBMs about her dog’s stinky farts. 2. She only half seriously wails, “I’m not supposed to be the optimistic one!” when I call her in tears. 3. She’s pragmatic when it comes to problem solving. 4. She graduated therapy! 5. She sends me e-cards like this one:

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-10796186539108802502011-04-25T20:42:00.005-04:002011-04-25T20:55:36.601-04:00

My parents had their 40th wedding anniversary this weekend. They celebrated by taking the family out for dinner. It was very typical of them, given the fact that they eloped. The rest of the weekend consisted of me whining about how sick I felt. Oh. And I think a few pagan Easter eggs were hidden in there someplace too. In other news, photos: Not much, I know. But like I said, I was sick and you

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-25451963311976656592011-04-20T22:24:00.007-04:002011-04-20T22:47:04.747-04:00

I don’t know Tim Hetherington. His book, Infidel, has been sitting on my coffee table since December though and I have loved every page of it. I loved it so much that once I had my copy in hand, I immediately wanted to buy a copy for my friend Amy as a Christmas gift. A few weeks earlier, Tim had been at Dashwood Books in New York signing copies. I sent him an email asking if he’d had any copies

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-33462037742728249242011-04-04T11:40:00.003-04:002011-04-04T11:46:43.176-04:00

On Saturday, Ben and I were out running errands when Derek called. I was standing in the middle of The Bay at the time, watching Ben test out carry-on luggage. Derek had been called into work. “Can you go pick up my kids for me and take them to a birthday party?” he wanted to know. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”After that, he gave me directions on how to get to the arena where Mark was having his

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-86563533190727753382011-03-31T13:26:00.002-04:002011-03-31T13:31:08.701-04:00

Ben has had a loose molar for almost a full week now. And by loose, I mean there are hookers with a tighter grip on their morality. And yet still, that miserable little fucker won’t let go. This means every night I watch Ben diligently chew his food on the left side of his mouth. I even listen to his slightly slurpy speech as though I’m not standing there completely fixated by the urge to reach

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-67438276795041327082011-03-24T14:31:00.005-04:002011-03-24T14:34:52.171-04:00

I’m stealing this pen today, and I don’t care who knows it. You see, today I’ve been working in a spare pod which just code for a cramped garbage pail where everyone and their uncle throws shit they can’t find a proper place for. For example, to my right there are two and a half staplers (the half looks like the guts of one of those big ass, swing line staplers) a roll of half used filing

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-19229650411165089272011-03-24T11:07:00.004-04:002011-03-24T11:13:53.997-04:00

Dear Carolyn, Hi. Writing you this letter has been a lot harder than I expected. For one, every time I've sat down to start it, I end up staring at a blank page for an inordinately long period of time, during which the dog usually starts licking her crotch which grosses me the fuck out. Then I end up yelling at her to knock it while launching myself at her with my power cord. By then, I’ve

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-51194549111425542702011-03-21T09:06:00.001-04:002011-03-21T09:08:22.036-04:00

Dear Deanne, First of all, Happy Birthday. You’ll notice I got you the same thing as last year (nothing) as I figured you’d be delighted by the matched set. I’m super thoughtful that way. It’s just one of the many things that make me an incredible friend.Anyway, last November the girls and I made up To-Do lists for 2011. On mine was “write each of my friends a personal letter” …I figure what’s

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-39923813224141276682011-03-18T10:24:00.006-04:002011-03-18T10:37:54.474-04:00

Matt Eich has been very supportive of the InFocus grant that I run annually, and currently he’s working on a project that deserves some much needed funding. Below is a small blurb that he’s put together about the project and a link to where you can read more about his focus & objectives. "Since April of 2010 I have been pursuing a project about the Baptist Town neighborhood of Greenwood,

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-73210740640261484222011-03-16T22:58:00.010-04:002011-03-16T23:19:34.445-04:00

The glaze is kept in large buckets/pails that you need to stir with a gigantic stick. Any guesses as to how often I a) bumped into them or b) knocked them over. Answer: A Lot.After the glaze goes on, everything needs to dry. Then you can add another thin layer of glaze in a contrasting colour. This part gets confusing because I can never keep them all straight. Obviously you can't tell the

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-41406587446194301752011-03-16T10:43:00.004-04:002011-03-16T11:04:20.869-04:00

This morning at Starbucks, I spotted a woman rocking the back half of her 50’s with punk-black hair that was spiked up Liza Minnelli-style, and deep red pumps. She was wearing black tights, a respectably short skirt and a cape that doubled as a jacket. It was black and grey plaid with a thread of red running through it. I stood off to the side and watched her ordering her coffee (Venti bold, no

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14895449.post-88644945569945492202011-03-14T11:26:00.001-04:002011-07-25T09:12:38.442-04:00

From Regina, Saskatchewan (of course): “Rick Mercer Crokinole” From Woodbridge, Virginia: “Mommy Trapped” …I hope they got her out okay. From Dyer, Indiana:“My therapy assignment funny” and last of allFrom Sunnyvale California, the joke every high school boy thinks is funny: “Lick her, I hardly know her”

Michelle Collinsnoreply@blogger.com