Entertainment Weekly has a sometimes-series where, in their Books section, they chat with an author about books that have shaped their life. I love this series. It’s always fascinating to me, even if I have no idea who the author is, to hear about what set of books have been important to them, in the past and in the present.

Of course, I have to do my own version now, taking the EW list as my inspiration. I’d love to hear your own list, though. This kind of history always enchants me – it seems like some sort of magic, how words can have so much impact on someone’s life, and how certain stories change who we are. So please, do share!

My favourite childhood books
The other day, my friend Jen asked me what kinds of books I liked to read as kid. And I said I really didn’t know, but then I started listing them off and BING, realized I liked MYSTERIES. I read every single Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew book there was, and then moved on to Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes. One of my ultimate, all-time favourite kids’ authors is Ellen Raskin – her novels are really weird, offbeat, magical mysteries that I recommend. Unfortunately all are out of print now except for The Westing Game, but that one is a good place to start – my favourite, though, is The Tattooed Potato and Other Clues.

The book I enjoyed most in school
I was a huge, huge geek in school and loved just about everything we were forced to study. I really loved Shakespeare and Shaw and poetry in high school, and I know, you kind of want to punch me right now, don’t you? I will, however, give a special shout out to Who Has Seen The Wind by W.O. Mitchell, a book everyone else seemed to hate but that I loved like ten bear.

My favourite movie versions of great novels
I love, love, love Emma Thompson’s version of Sense and Sensibility, as well as most of the similar Merchant-Ivory stuff, like A Room with a View (SO romantic!) and Howard’s End. I think what Peter Jackson did with The Lord of the Rings was brilliant and possibly even better than the source material. And although the source material isn’t exactly a classic, I thought Adaptation – technically an adaptation of the book The Orchid Thief – was quite brilliant and original.

The classic I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never read
I made it about 80% of the way through Crime and Punishment before quitting – one of the few books I have ever abandoned – and now I give War and Peace the side-eye and think I’ll never be able to handle it. Of ones I’ve always meant to read, but still haven’t, there’s Great Expectations and (actually cringing as I admit this) both Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. I even OWN copies of the Twain books and yet have never cracked them open. SIGH.

A book I consider greatly overrated
American Psycho is a book that I hate, hate, hated, and will never understand why some people think it could be passed off as art. I also disliked The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, to the point where, when it was over, I was actually angry that I’d read it. I really liked The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides, but was incredibly bored by Middlesex, which most people consider far superior and a modern classic.

The last book that made me cry – and the last one that made me laugh
I just finished a kids’ book that Allison recommended – Ophelia and the Marvelous Boy by Karen Foxlee. I loved it – the story is so magical and inventive, and there’s a mother-related storyline that tugs at the heartstrings and made me bawl like a little kid at the end. On the laugh side, Tudor recommended Love That Dog by Sharon Creech for the kids – so far, I haven’t been able to get any of the kids to actually read it, but I did, and loved it – it’s a whole tale of a boy and his dog told through a series of poems, and it’s clever and funny (although sad in some places too, as all good books about life should be). I really do hope to read some adult books very soon!

A book I read in secret
Forever, by Judy Blume, snuck chapter by chapter in the back stacks while “working” in the library over my lunch hour in Grade 8. I’m sure every single woman my age has a similar story.

A book I wish I’d written
Um, every single one? I have huge, mad respect for anyone who sets out to write a book of any kind, and actually does it. I flirt all the time with daydreams of being an author, but instead I just putter away on my blog. If I ever do write something, I really hope it is as perfectly brilliant as either of my two all-time favourite books: The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, and Come Thou Tortoise, by Jessica Grant.

What I’m reading right now
I just started The Adventures of Claire Never-ending, which was written by Catherine Brunelle, who lives right here in Ottawa and who read a blog post at BOLO this year. It’s delightful! Next up is a book I ordered on a whim from Amazon while trying to hit the free shipping mark: The Thoughts and Happenings of Wilfred Price, Purveyor of Superior Funerals, by Wendy Jones. Sure hope it lives up to the title!

Sunday was Sir Monkeypants’ and my 18th wedding anniversary, and I feel like the great-grandmommy of the whole internet by admitting that. We’d been dating for six years before that, so this actually marks 24 years we’ve been together – a few wrinkles, a lot of grey hairs, and a few extra pounds ago.

We celebrated like this. Sir Monkeypants took the kids to swimming and got them a post-swim snack, while I hit the grocery store and then started painting trim in the basement. We had a good hour and a half together while he installed baseboards and I finished up my painting for the day, then I fed the kids lunch and left to take the youngest on the hour-long round trip to drop her at a birthday party. Meanwhile, Sir Monkeypants finished with baseboards for the day, took down the Christmas lights, and I went to the Canadian Tire on my way back from the party drop-off for a replacement bike tube for the Captain.

By the time I got home, Sir Monkeypants just had time to grab a quick shower before going on his own hour-long journey to pick up the Little Miss from her party. I helped the older two finish their homework, gave everyone a snack (packing one up for the Little Miss), did piano practice with Gal Smiley, then took the big kids to IKEA where we met up with Sir Monkeypants. The kids tried hard not to shove each other to death while we looked at four different storage solutions for the new basement (does IKEA have any kind of frequent-buyer or rewards program? Because between bookcases, TV stands, wall shelves and wardrobes, we may be blowing the kids’ university fund there in the near future).

We dragged everyone home – in separate cars – just in time to throw together sandwiches and soup for dinner, get the kids clean and in jammies, listen to a couple of speeches due the next day, and put kids to bed.

Then we collapsed on the couch in pain (the basement work takes its toll on us old folks!), exhausted.

It was kind of just your typical day. But also really good. Because there were anniversary wishes from the kids (they made their own cards – and Rainbow Loom accessories from an unnamed enthusiast, I’m sure you can guess which one!). There were plenty of extra hugs and kisses and thank-yous. There were curious questions and enthusiastic singing along with the radio and absolute delight in pieces of gum, from three sweet brown-haired children that weren’t here 18 years ago.

There were quiet moments where I looked at Sir Monkeypants and saw the guy I married, and saw us together living the life I imagined. There was a loud moment of exclamation when Sir Monkeypants pointed out that the paused TV, showing a still from an almond milk commercial, featured a kitchen where there were eight little plates in the slots, but only SEVEN big plates, and WHERE was the missing plate, and I had been thinking the EXACT SAME THING.

There were shared stories of our days – funny things the kids said, like the way the Captain’s mind was blown when he heard that they mint Canadian money right here in Ottawa, and the way the Little Miss, when she says something she doesn’t mean, says she is being “fartastic.” There were potential problems in the basement to discuss and there was much sighing over the May calendar, which is busting at the seams. There was random stealing of handfuls of each others’ post-dinner snacks on the couch, and preparing of tea without having to ask what goes in it. There was contentment and laughter and the dream of another 18 years.

Happy anniversary, Sir Monkeypants.

It’s been nearly two years since the last Blog Out Loud event, and here’s a secret, just between you and me: I thought the 2012 event was going to be my last. I just kind of felt like the idea had played itself out and I wasn’t excited about it any more.

But then! I was having coffee with Brie, and she said what I really needed was a great sponsor, and she suggested the Ottawa Writer’s Festival. And I remembered my friend Lee Ann had mentioned this idea as well several months before that, but I was all wishy washy, but I guess Brie brought it up right at the right moment in time, and I was all like, YES.

So my friend Lee Ann, who actually sits on the board of the Writer’s Festival, actually connected me with the right people and spent many tireless hours singing our praises to the rest of the board and convincing everyone within earshot that this event was awesome and deserved a spot in the program. And she made it happen! So many, many thanks to her for believing in blogging and working so hard on my behalf.

And now, it’s all here, it’s all happening! Blog Out Loud 2014 is TOMORROW NIGHT, eep. You can get all the details of the event here, and browse around the archives of the BOLO blog to see profiles of all 12 readers who will be reading a really fantastic blog post at the microphone this year.

I’ll be busy, but I really, really want to meet so many of you who I only know from the blogosphere, and to say hello again to old friends who I haven’t seen since the last event. I’ll be sitting at a small round table to the right of the stage, so if you make it out, please do come by to say hello. Hope to see you all there!

My April column for Capital Parent Newspaper is up on their website – over here.

It was awfully hard to get up on Easter Sunday morning.

The previous night, FameThrowa and Mr. Chatty had come over for dinner. There was too much pie (is there such a thing?), too much wine (definitely a thing). The four of us were up late, filling and hiding little plastic eggs full of toonies, LEGO men, stickers and jellybeans. Then, although we swore we were going to bed, Sir Monkeypants and I stayed up even later after our guests had gone, drawn in by the allure of just one more Game of Thrones episode.

We’d only been asleep about an hour and a half when the Captain came into our room in obvious distress. He couldn’t breathe – really, really couldn’t breathe. We were up and out of bed in less than a second, racing to the bathroom, trying to administer his puffer. We went outside – cold air helps the asthma – and I talked to him soothingly, trying to calm him, strugging to get in a puff or two of ventolin, while Sir Monkeypants pulled on jeans and threw a few things in a bag. All went well at the hospital – we know the drill. Some steroids, a face mask, and they were back home by 4:30 a.m.

It took some time after that for our hearts to stop pounding.

When the Little Miss got up at 6:30 to see if the Easter Bunny had arrived, it was quite a groaner. I’m too far past the baby stage to be used to counting up my total sleep by assembling a handful of one-hour chunks.

But we did get up, and found eggs, and delighted in having candy before breakfast. Lego men made cute little voices and stickers were traded.

The Little Miss reminded me over breakfast – for the 10th time that weekend, at least – that I’d promised to take her to the farm on Easter morning. The farm is the Canada Museum of Agriculture and Food, a working farm inside the city limits. For years I forced the kids to go on Easter, because I love the baby animals – who doesn’t love baby animals? But the older two hated it – the smells, the scary beasts, the wheezing and allergies. My youngest though, she’s an animal lover too, and she loves the farm – I finally got one! She wanted to see the animals, and it was Easter, and it had been far too long since we were there last. Despite my desperate need for a nap, I just couldn’t say no.

So the two of us piled in the car and headed over. We touched a newborn lamb, stroked the world’s softest bunny, listened to the chicks go peep-peep-peep. We coloured as much as we wanted – no pressure to move on, it’s just the two of us – and found three hidden eggs in the barns that were traded for chocolate.

In the cow barn, we saw two calves – one two days old, one just over a day old. In the third pen in the nursery was a mother cow who was two days overdue. The Little Miss was very curious, but I warned her that although the birth would be soon, it was unlikely to be in the next 10 minutes. We moved on, went outside for a snack, couldn’t wait any more to eat those hard-earned chocolate pieces.

It was time to go. I needed to fill a prescription for more steroids for the Captain, and was hoping to get in a little more work on the basement floor. But the Little Miss was dragging her feet. We’d been to all the barns, but she still just didn’t feel like leaving. It has been so long since we were here, she said. It’s such a nice day, she said. Just a little longer, she said.

I told her that we really had to go but if she wanted to pick just one favourite animal to see for a second time, one animal to go and say goodbye to, we could do that. So she picked out the expectant mother cow, Evangeline.

We hiked all the way back out to the cow barn and she climbed up the gate to Evangeline’s pen, hanging off of it along with two other kids who were having a look. I told her to smile – unfortunately Evangeline’s backside was facing us but figured it’d make a good enough photo. I pulled out the camera and just as I clicked it I noticed something odd.

A small, white, fluid-filled bulge coming out her back end.

Oh yes, there was active labour going on.

As soon as the Little Miss heard that, there was absolutely no leaving. We spent the next hour in front of Evangeline’s pen. The crowd behind us grew and grew, but my daughter didn’t budge – it was as if her own baby cow was on the way. She gently asked questions – luckily we have already shared the just-the-facts-ma’am version of how babies are made – and we quietly and respectfully watched a baby calf being born. From start to finish.

In less than 12 hours I went from fear, adrenaline, and the real threat of losing a kid, to innocent child-like pastel-coloured delights, to a powerful, rare, wonderfully beautiful moment that showed me that life goes on. Spring has sprung, and there’s new hope, and new life, and the dream of health.

There is wonder in this world, and I felt so very, very lucky to have seen it from a front row seat.

I slept very well that night.

This is my 1500th post. It has a monumental feel to it, doesn’t it? Combined with my 10th year blogging anniversary back in March, I’ve decided to have a giveaway to celebrate. Party at the Turtlehead house!

(Well, not a party – an intimate get-together, if you will. EXACTLY like this one; Candace IS the animated version of myself, except I don’t have anywhere near the swan neck, sadly.)

So! Here’s the plan. I will spot the winner a $50 gift card – at the shop of their choice! That’s right – you pick your own prize. It just has to be a store that allows for eGift cards – cards I can send you by email. Some choices include Chapters, Amazon, Starbucks, Best Buy, Future Shop, the Apple Store, the MEC, Toys R Us, or my personal choice, Etsy. If you’re torn, I’ll even split the value between multiple stores.

If you live in Ottawa and would prefer to support a local store, I cannot really fault you for that, and will do all I can to get you a a gift certificate to the local shop and send it on over. Some great local stores I love include the Tagalong Toys, Grace in the Kitchen, Tinseltown Christmas Emporium in Wellington West, Kaleidoscope Kids, Chez Francois, and pretty much any and every purveyor of cupcakes in town. But I’d love to hear your own suggestions!

So here’s how to enter: leave me a comment below letting me know the store of your choice. That’s it! I’ll pick a winner next Monday, April 28.

I to the N to the M-I-N-A-T-E get together!

Edited to add: The contest is now closed – congratulations to our winner, smothermother!

The Captain, the Little Miss, and I are sitting on the floor of her room. She’s accidentally dumped her suitcase of Rainbow Loom rubber bands and we’re sorting them.

Me: Oh, here’s some more of those lime green ones. I didn’t think there were so many of those.

The Captain: There ARE, because there is a huge pile right HERE.

The Little Miss: I already KNEW that, because they are MY rainbow bands, and I KNOW them.

Captain: Did not.

Little Miss: Did too.

Captain: Did not.

Little Miss: Did too.

Me: Cut it out! God, you two are just like oil and water.

Little Miss: What does that mean?

Me: It means you don’t mix.

Captain: Dibs on oil.

Little Miss: That’s just because you HATE WATER.

Captain: EVERYONE hates water.

Little Miss: I LIKE WATER.

Captain: You are the only one!

Little Miss: No, Mom likes water too!

Captain: She does not!

Little Miss: Does too!

Captain: Does not!

Little Miss: Does too!

Kids: MOM!!!

Me: SIGH.

Fin.

A doorbell is rung. Did it ring? Try again. I didn’t hear a bing-bong, did you? I think we have to push it harder. Third attempt. The door suddenly opens. A harried mom says, not unkindly, “I have a baby in the bathtub! Can you come back later?” I apologize from my spot at the end of the driveway. It takes the girls several moments of standing in front of the closed door to actually move away, giggling over and over, there’s a baby in the bathtub baby in the bathtub baby in the bathtub.

A very nice lady comes to the door. “I only have this,” she says, holding out a twenty. “You will need to give me some change. Do you know how?” Little Miss Sunshine nods her head, and hands her a five dollar bill. “Now another one,” the lady says. The Little Miss frowns, but hands over a second fiver. “One more,” says the lady sweetly. The Little Miss scowls. I have given you LOTS OF FIVES ALREADY she points out. She earns a chuckle from the lady but has to hand over more change, anyway.

An older gentleman comes to the door. Would you like to buy some cookies? “Who are they for?” he asks. The Little Miss is confused. For you! she explains.

After ringing, then knocking, then ringing, an elderly Asian woman comes to the door. She hands the girls a can of pop, then makes shoo-shoo arms until they go away. We add the pop to the cookie box and I spend the rest of the evening trying to explain. “She wanted to do something nice for you. She wasn’t sure what you wanted so she just tried to help,” I say. Maybe she thought we were trick-or-treating says the Little Miss. Maybe, maybe.

They’re done! The last of the workmen finished up in the basement yesterday. That means…there’s still a bunch of work left to be done. Sir Monkeypants and I will be taking it from here – what’s left is painting the walls, installing the laminate flooring, and installing the baseboards and trim. Oh, and painting that stuff too. SIGH. Looks like we will continue to live the hoarder life for the short term.

In the meantime, some pictures! The biggest change is that the stairs are all done. Here’s what they look like now:

Pretty! We are happy with they way these turned out. I especially love the white risers. They look really sharp and modern and help lighten up a really dark space (there’s no specific stairs light, just ambient light from above and below). The new railing looks pretty good, too, and the wood is really nice quality.

It’s not all sunshine and roses, though. The major drawback is that adding the new stair covers raises the height of each step about a half inch. You don’t notice on the middle steps as they’re all relative, but the top step now is a little shorter than the rest. It’s not enough to trip you up but enough so you notice something is kind of weird when you’re coming up the steps.

At the other end, the bottom step would have been a little deeper than the rest, but the concrete pour we had to do raised the entire basement floor up several inches. So now the bottom step is actually the SHORTEST step, but that’s not the fault of the stair work. Still, it has taken some getting used to.

Also, another minor quibble: the stain on the stairs doesn’t quite match the laminate flooring colour. It’s in the right area but redder toned, while the floor is a greyer tone. But we’re still much, much happier than having to go carpet, and we’ll see how it all looks once the floor installed – perhaps it will be no big deal.

So would I do this again? I think so. It was seriously about 1/4 the price of having the entire staircase replaced and although half of me says, “You’re spending thousands of dollars, why not spend a couple more and get what you really want?”, the sane half says, “You’re spending thousands of dollars, for heaven’s sake, CUT IT OUT.” It’s a really nice solution and we like the look and it’s super fabulous on your feet, so I call it a win.

The only other big change (other than the installation of subfloor, I’m sure you are WOWED) is the completion of the lighting – adorable little pot lights, look!

Very happy with these.

Hopefully it doesn’t take us forever to get our part of the work done, now – keep me honest and if you don’t see any new pictures in a month, ask me what the HECK WE ARE THINKING. It’s got to happen!