January days

Half-way through January, the tip of the tongue of the year.

J is back in school full-swing. Five days and counting until this semester's end, but she will miss her classes, her writers, her artists, her performers and comedians, her bright learners. J has a week left of playing Daddyman at home before work starts up again, a week of taking trips to the library and reading about Anansi, derailing trains and drinking coffee at the Pepperdog Cafe. Our life is so full. Tonight at dinner we did a round of animal sounds, each guessing what the other was pretending to be. Ethan won, giving off a shriek that sounded like "Sh-rrrr-ekkkkk!" and was, indeed, Shrek. No one could guess it.

 Half-way through January and we've embraced every opportunity to make the most of the sun, hiking Horth Hill and Swan Lake in the good company of old friends and new.We chose paths less travelled in the woods we walked, and each took us to a sight worth staying silent for. E and the sun played like brothers, each unaware of the delight the other took in his company.

On rainier days, E found puddles and claimed them. The Js tried in vain to catch up on the laundry. One particularly rainy weekend, J and E drove up to Denman Island. E slept most of the way, visions of  Pepperoni Sticks dancing in his head. 

For Grandma Susie

Because laughter is the best medicine, here are a collection of photos for our farway Glamma, who is sick in  -- though certainly not sick of -- the big city of NYC.

It's early December. We've pulled off the island highway after hours of driving and found ourselves in a place called Coombs, into a marketplace where they claim goats graze on the rooftops, though we didn't see any. Coffee for the Js and a sticky, mincemeat tart for E. It's the season for sweet treats, so we don't mind that he loads up with sugar when there are still more hours of highway driving ahead. We're not on the highway now. The marketplace around us is busy and bright, but we find a quiet table perfect for a family of three.
We are happy.

Every other day this month we spend at the pool. J read somewhere that "spirited children are calmed by the water", and so E is encouraged to dunk-a-lunk his toes, blow his bubbles, douse his daddy with a shower from the bright plastic watering can. He's even allowed to sit on the steps of the hot-tub, despite the recommendations of the sign overhead. Every other day, after the pool, the boy is calm, sleeps well at night, and his parents look knowingly at one another and smile.

No mother should trust this grin. 

And for good reason. When J turned her back, E found her expensive (albeit old) MAC make-up and gave himself a Joker's smile. He also decorated as many of his cars and trucks as he could get his hands on before daddy found him. The web cam doesn't do the moment justice.

 

There are more stories, more photos, more videos even, and we promise to send them. Until then, be well. With love and kisses, J~J~E 

A Merry And A Bright

 

If we could have fit you all into our living room on the night of Christmas Eve, dear Readers, we would have done so. The room was all a dazzle.

  
An angel kept watchful guard as Handel's Messiah spun round on the record player. Our tree, sparse but lovingly decorated, kept vigil in the corner. J made a trip to Fan Tan Alley, to one of the oldest shops in Chinatown, and bought vintage streamers and accordian decorations ("These were made before you were even born," the shopkeeper said) and we strung them up while E was fast asleep. Then we sat, the only two Js of the world, and admired the sight. In the morning, at the decent hour of almost-eight, we came downstairs and delved into our stockings: first E, then dad, then mom. Our guests (and there should always be guests for Christmas morning, it's the best sleepover EVER) came down when their eyes were finally open, and we all exchanged gifts as the coffee brewed. Only you, dear Readers, could have made that morning more special; but as it stands in my memory, it was the best Christmas there's ever been.

 What can we say of the rest of December? It came and it went, and with it came and went the heartache and recovery that accompany the lift of hope and the tumbling down of loss. We Three Rioux held together. Soon it was New Year's Eve and our doors were flung open for family and friends to eat and drink and share our merry making. As 2010 rung itself out and 2011 shook itself into being, we hugged and kissed and felt alive in each other's gleeful company. What better gift could there be than to have a roof over our heads and the people we love dancing under it? Happy new year, one and all, near and far, good'ns and bad'ns. You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.