Foggy Friday

I feel I should apologise for my little (more like long, less like little) rant on sleeping and the varieties thereof in our house these days. It wasn't meant to be a whine-fest, or a scare tactic for anyone (Do you hear that, Dustin?) -- just something I felt like writing about. Granted, it got a little out of hand, but sometimes we all blather on a little. And by the way, things returned to their usual state of nocturnal mayhem last night, the possibility of restful nights narrowly averted. Phew. That was close.

In other news, it's a foggy and damp day out there. The rains haven't started, but they're expected shortly - and they may last the weekend.

Last night, I acquired the newest Whitlams CD (Little Cloud), and dreamed of Australia. Walking alongside the water this morning, while listening to the album, I made friends with the hazy harbour enshrouded in its thick gray blanket, and pretended for a moment that I was actually in Sydney and not here on the east coast of Canada.  I actually do this quite often, probably playing to my latent fascination with the development of cities and the importance of harbours.  It's not surprising that my prairie upbringing didn't instill in me the appreciation I now have for the coast.

    In a one horse town where we played over fifty songs
    To an English rose and a Nova Scotian girl
    When the sun came up we all found the meaning
    And if I could read my writing I could tell you now…

Today the other 75% of my family is at home, hoping that the deluge doesn't come too early so they can get outside to play. I hope for their sake that the rains hold off until nap time. It would be a nice day to while away the hours in the comfort of a small café.

Posted bythemikestand at 9:12 AM  

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