Posts Tagged: amour
Brotherly Love [Out of Hand Adorableness: Video]
With such a small age gap, ( between Abigail and her bro, I had my worries.) Uneasy about the changes to be thrust at our young lad, really still a baby himself (21 months). Anticipating jealousy, vowing to make sure I made the time for him that he deserves. Newborn or no.
The Babe, She Sleeps. At 1 Month Old Today!
The BSM is away on tour. This video of their Tom Foolery during a Robson Valley mudslide has some to do with their musical talent but all sorts to do with their plain awesomeness.
It’s a Girl! Introducing Abigail Mills. Blog Roundup & Pictures.
Middle name(s) to be established. You can read more about that here.
What an epic couple of weeks! It began with having a baby. A girl! Yay! Ruffles! Vintage dresses! Another female in the house.
Phew. Now we’re all on even playing ground, which, clearly – is necessary. For the sake of all boobs and neighbours involved.
It then continued with the WSL having the nastiest, most contagious virus ever. It was awesome. Yep.
I’m not going into a full tale of my Birth Story, as I’m saving that to pair with the video (it’s a documentary I said!) the BSM and I are working on.
Peter Cotton-Tail was in the Hizz-ouse.
There was feasting and ceremony and treasure hunts and skype visits and flying chickadees, but above all glee. Glee to be gathered, but missing our beautiful kwe’s. They have been flying reindeer, making music and a documentary with Adjagas, (courtesy Big Soul Productions and a whack of other talented film peeps), some fabulous Sammi musicians of Norway. However, we were grateful for the miracles of the interwebs, in that Skype allowed them to be a part of our ceremony of re-birth and giving thanks.
I crafted and baked our gifts to wee ones, except for the chocolates for the hunt. Really now.
I cooked all day with some (missing a couple), of my coven and an exceptional young man home from B.C. Thank-you Nicholyn Farms phone in grocery order capabilities and local Barrie Farmers Market drop-off to pick up. That’s some 100 mile love right there.
To Be Young & Wild & Free – A Love Story
I had 6 too many drinks last night.
That was a regular occurrence, and then some, ‘back in the day’. Always trying so hard to forget. And then I stopped. I came to some honest truths about myself. I stopped ignoring that I was smart enough to know that a path of self-destruction would not lead to anywhere I really wanted to be. Not rocket science, easier said than done.
Ours is not a conventional love story. This is the the story of how we met. I’m not going to get all poetic in describing how we fell in love because, well – I don’t feel like rolling that way right now.
Ghosts From Christmas Past
Boogedy Boo.
Life has a very strange way of crushing one at times. With love, blessed beginnings, nasty-sickness-that-just-won’t-go-away, deadlines, defeat, waves of overpowering depression, doubt, joy, never-ending-to-do-list, fear, mayhem. I’ve been indulging in escapism to ignore, y’know; the procrastinate to make it worse syndrome.
I’m told I’m too hard on myself, but – this. Is. JUST. HOW. I. FEEL. As you can tell I am pulling myself out of a wee bit of a dark hole as of late, despite the beauty (and madness) trailing out from the holidays and the bliss of my recent engagement and the most joyful news! It turns out that those doctors really were wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Baby no. 2 is on the way! I’d say that the birth of 1 and expected pregnancy of another is proof that I’m quite fertile, yes? That and the BSM has some stellar swimmers.
Mr. Skippy Pants
While this momma and her BSM were sleeping away the morning after their debaucherous round of Halloween costume donning, white russian and chinese food consuming, and other delightful things far too naughty to talk about here…
O yes, while we were having a luxurious, rare, in.dire.need.of – slumber past 6 am; this is what the WSL was doing. Oh no, he doesn’t just save the cute for us, apparently that’s just how he rolls. Neither do his g-parents (save the cute for only us), with whom he was staying over-night with apparently, as they put together this little diddy.
The Divine Ms. M
imagineNATIVE is my most favourite of film festivals. It is an epic international Film + Media Arts Festival born of and happening in Toronto, which hits every fall. Celebrating indigenous peoples from around the world who are creating cutting edge film, video, radio, and new media. Presenting a juried selection of the most incredible, honest, provoking and beautiful indigenous works from around the globe.
Part of their mission statement as stated on their website, ‘imagineNATIVE is committed to dispelling stereotypical notions of Indigenous peoples through diverse media presentations from within our communities, thereby contributing to a greater understanding by audiences of Indigenous artistic expression.’ Hells yea. And they do it more than well.
To me, imagineNATIVE as an entity, is a visionary leader. Filling the gap of showcasing qualitative indigenous artistic content, it exhibits to the world the work of Native filmmakers and media artists. Artists who weave art into fiction, into film, into mixed media, into music; of their cultural and traditional landscapes which are generally and otherwise under or misrepresented. An excellent, prolific example of such misrepresentations throughout cinematic history (and in affect, general history) is the