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Part of the Just Seeds free fonts project |
A is for astrology, which we all love to hate. I'm a Sagittarius, which always boils down to "flaky, lucky, loves to travel," and while that's not technically wrong, it's annoying.
B is for blood oranges, which arrive in the grocery stores for a glorious eight-week streak and then disappear. They are the Halley's comet of seasonal fruit and I love them.
C is for Cottage Life, which, even though I don't and probably never will own a cottage, gives me bi-monthly DIY ideas, house-maintenance tips, recipes, photography, and a chatty and engaging editorial voice.
D is for dancing. It's a cliche to say that I am dancing through life, but I dance when I cook, I dance for exercise, I dance in the grocery store and at the rock climbing gym, so how else should I say it?
E is for exercise. I hated exercise when it didn't work—that is, it didn't make my body small. But when I started exercising because I wanted to feel strong, or to feel accomplished, or to take pleasure in my physical self, then I found I could love it after all.
F is for friends and friendship. I am a big old sap and I love my friends very much; the act of doing friendship brings me so much joy.
G is for gardening, which I started doing in 2020. This year I'm scaling back on the veggies (they're just a buffet for the rabbits) and adding more flowers. I'm very excited to see how this all unfolds.
H is for hot baths. Is there anything better on a chilly February Sunday afternoon? To get into some steaming-hot water, maybe with a magazine or a book, a cold drink to offset the heat, and just soak until you're right with the world again?
I is for intelligence, which is one way of saying smart and well-read, and another way of saying that someone is paying attention to what is important. I am sometimes more intelligent than others.
J is for jewellery, which I rarely wear but wish I did. I admire the women who can layer on hoop earrings and gold rings and long necklaces and then just....leave the house. Rings look strange on my short, chubby fingers (I don't even wear my wedding ring any more, since I took it off one sausage-fingered hot summer day); necklaces don't suit my short neck; earrings don't work in lobes that always wear stretchers. This is a tiny sadness.
K is for knitting, my great love affair of a hobby.
L is for libraries, my favourite civic institution / community centre / nerd zone. It gives me all the positive feelings of a bookstore (look at all these books!) without the negative ones (I am poor). Plus, the best ones function as kid clubs, tech zones, and norm-shifters when it comes to our social ecosystem. They do a lot of heavy lifting for something that is just "free books" on paper.
M is for Movie March Madness, the annual competition I run each year on Facebook and which is kicking off as we speak. I've been doing it for seven years (as long as I've been a mom!) and each year it's a lovely distraction from the real world as we parse out the best feel-good movie or the best TV show or the best movie franchise. It's a lot of work—it's grown from me doing all the writing to managing a group of 8-12 writers, plus a five-week-long schedule of near-daily posts. But it is worth it when I see two adults arguing about the merits of Moana vs Beauty and the Beast, or debating if Captain American fucks (he doesn't, probably, we think?). It's a hoot!
N is for nighttime. After Noah was born, I didn't leave the house at night for several months, and the first time I did, I marvelled at how different the city was in the darkness with a baby. I love summer nights and walks under the stars; I love winter nights (even though they start at 4 PM); I love nights where the moon is so bright you could read by its light, and new-moon nights that are dark as anything. I love seeing the fireflies come out and the sun come up.
O is for orgasms.
P is for playgrounds—they are truly the workspace of children, and the great tragedy of our hometown is that quality playgrounds are few and far between. In another life, I would be a playground designer, and every small town would have a weird, funny, raucous place just for children, preferably very close to the downtown core.
Q is for quilts. My mom used to make quilt, as did my grandmother and great-grandmother, and there are quilts at the cottage that are from when my mom was a kid. These links to other women, the family who made things with their hands, is something I can feel in my own fingertips.
R is for reconnecting. In this intensely post-COVID world, it has been such a balm to go to dance jams or house parties again. It's been a gift to linger over a chat. Reconnection feels like grace—it's trying again, trying more, and seeing another phase of relationship unfold.
S is for snuggling at bedtime, the best kid-time ritual. I think those ten minutes at the end of the day are the time we are most heart-soul connected. It's the time he might cry just because he needs a cry, or we sing together, or we laugh together, or he tells me something that has been weighing on him, or I just slip my arms around him and recite Where the Wild Things Are as his eyes close. Seven is a good age; he's a good kid.
T is for thrifting, my favourite way to shop. No, I don't want to spend $115 on new sneakers; I want to spend nine months looking for the perfect pair and then I want to buy them for $8.
U is for understanding. File under I, intelligence.
V is for vacations, which I don't take nearly enough of.
W is for water in all its forms: Lake Huron, bathwater, tears, and fizzy water.
X is for extra, which is how I take my guacamole and all my favourite people. I sometimes like I am a high-needs puppy who just needs to be petted lest I shiver myself into oblivion; other times, I feel practically incandescent with possibility. (These are extra in different direction.) My favourite people are the kind who walk off the job because their boss is a bully, who build a treehouse for their nine-month-old baby, who teach themselves to rewire their shed, who show up to a midweek potluck with stuffed mushroom caps and four BYOB beers. They are extra themselves, and I love them for it.
Y is for young people. Stratford is a lot of great things, but there is a noticeable dearth of young people - teens and 20s in this town. When I go to Toronto, I revel in the young people there - yes, show me your weird backpack and your regrettable hairdo and your irreversible ironic tattoo! Yes, please wear the crop top, trust me that it works on you. Yes, stay out late with people you don't entirely know to make art or make music or have sex or pool-hop or fall in love or ride your bike. Yes, devote an entire weekend to a movie festival or go live on a tall ship for a semester. I love this for you. Please don't write a memoir, you're not there yet.
Z is for zaftig, as in Lizzo, the end.
