knitting dirty

March 22, 2010

My little nephew loves turtles. He’s been drawn to them since babyhood. He has a full collection of toy turtles, including his ninja turtles and his family turtles. The family turtles include Mommy Turtle, Daddy Turtle, Baby Turtle, and the littlest one’s name is Baby – Baby Turtle. It sounds kind of hill billy (this is my brother, Daryl and this is my other brother, Daryl) but he was quite small himself when he named them. Well, now my little man is 5 and in a couple of weeks he is having surgery to fix a hernia. Who knew that kids got those? It’s a day surgery but, of course, requires he be put under. Poor little dude. He’s already on the wait list — this is Canada after all — to have his adenoids removed to fix a sleep apnea problem.

I’m on the other side of the country and it’s impossible to be there to give Auntie hugs to my favourite boy. In lieu of those much missed hugs I decided to knit him an Auntie Turtle. Sounds great, right? Except, so far, it looks kind of rude.

In fact, it resembles some items sold in a shop downtown

I couldn’t stop giggling as I clicked ‘Upload/Insert’ to bring you this image. Yes, I secretly am a 12-year-old boy.


Lazy Sunday morning

March 11, 2010

We were lying in bed on Sunday morning, when C rolled over and pulled me in close to snuggle. She sweetly kissed me and then told me ‘I’ve decided that you can be my first wife.’  I recently downloaded all three seasons of Big Love.  ‘No, you can be my first wife.’ I replied. ‘No, you’re going to be my first wife.’ she insisted.

I smiled and said ‘Ok, does this mean you are planning to take a second wife?’ ‘Well, eventually, yes.’ she tells me.  ‘Megan would make a good second wife.’ Megan being a much younger class mate, who C thinks is cute. ‘She’d fit in. She’s a feminist and a vegetarian.’ Apparently, all feminist vegetarians naturally get along. I think C just has a thing for pinko, commie – type chicks.

I giggled and asked ‘So do we get to have lots and lots of babies?’ C visibly blanched the way she does any time I bring up the subject of children ‘No.’ she said. I told her what she wanted then was not plural marriage but a harem because the point of the plural marriage on Big Love is to bring souls in to the eternal family, thus all the babies. She clearly was in it for the fun and not some noble, higher purpose.

Have uterus, will reproduce.

March 5, 2010

Before I moved to this freezing rock in the Atlantic, I went to visit my younger brother’s family in a distant small town. Picture a quaint, mostly white town in the mountains. It’s a beautiful place but not an especially diverse one. Anyway, this was a few weeks before Christmas and to kick off the season the town holds a big celebration at night with rides, a petting zoo, carolling and at the end they light up a huge Christmas tree in the park. My brother’s kids love it. My niece was excited to sing on the stage at the park this year.    

Getting there was some fun. A bustle of trying to feed the kids, get everyone into mitts and hats and making sure we remembered the cameras. When we got there it seems that my niece had decided to try out a new fashion.    

Girl power lives on.


The somewhat dyke -ish bandana cracked me up. Not that I think any fashion is indicative of a child’s future gender or sexual identity but it was funny. My sister-in-law noticed it when we got out of the truck and made her put a toque over it.    

We got into line for the horse-drawn wagon ride. The kids were being kids, pushing and shoving so when we climed into the wagon, SIL took my nephew to the front. I sat at the back with my niece across from some grandparents with the grand kids. A much more peaceful ride for all.    

It was about a 15 minute trip meaning there was lots of time for an Auntie/niece talk about my big move away.  I told her that I hoped she would come and visit us one day. She thought it was too far and that would never happen. Trying to make her feel better, I said that I would be back for visits. I told her that I wanted to bring C to meet her and that Mommy really wanted to meet C, too. Niece said that C sounded like a nice person — they’ve talked on the phone a few times. I responded with ‘Yes, I really love her’.  Her eyes widened, ‘You mean you’re in love with her?’ and then without even taking a breath, ‘But who is going to have babies?’ ‘Wait! I know! You both will.’  Grandpa’s face across the wagon was something else.   

I have always referred to C as my girlfriend when talking to my niece but I guess it just never occurred to her that we were a couple. Not a surprise, I don’t think she knows any queers aside from me and I’m pretty assimilated, at least in appearance.  I had explicitly told her when C and I started dating but it was quite awhile before and what kid remembers boring details of grown up lives. The instantaneous question about babies wowed me. Holy power of heteronormativity, Batman! She was totally cool with the couple thing but couples exist to have babies. Apparently, two uteri just means more cousins. I’m so glad the subject of fertilization didn’t come up. Grandpa would have died.    

Note the rebellious bandana peeking out.


December 9, 2009

Well, so far I love this place. The neighbourhood is comfortable with lots of old stone houses. There are several cool shops within just a few blocks, including an amazing, high-end yarn shop. If you know me then you know how much this thrills me. I spend hours online looking at yarn and patterns the way normal people look at porn. Anyway, the shop is full of top quality product — hand spun, hand dyed yarns. I’m going to have to be extremely self disciplined on that street as there is also a yummy, garlicky, cheezy pizza shop next door and a bakery with nice, hot dark coffee next to that. Maybe I just won’t walk down that way too often.  

Oooo…I also went to the sex shop! Well, bookstore/sex shop. It’s fully PC with sex positive classes in various sexual practices and rainbow stickers everywhere. Anyway, I came home and showed C the novel (queer satire fiction, not smut) that I’d bought. She asked me how I’d liked the shop and I told her about all the interesting books I’d looked at. I mentioned how surprised I was to find such a great range of books — everything from queer fiction to more instructive-type stuff to academic theory. Great books! 

Finally she asked me if I’d seen anything else that I liked at the store. I had to admit that I been to the sex shop and failed to look at any non literary paraphernalia. Not even a quick glance. I think this may be my finest (or possibly saddest) moment of geekdom ever.  

So after that shop, I took my lovely queer satire novel down the street to the local fair-trade coffee shop. I was waiting for my coffee when I spotted a carrot cake slathered in cream cheese icing. I love carrot cake but can react badly to walnuts. I asked the barista if there were any walnuts in this cake. She said no, that they only use local products. I must have looked at her funny because she explained to me like I’m the slowest person on the planet that ‘walnuts don’t grow here’. I told her that I’m not from here and so don’t know what grows here. She then picked up the aforementioned queer satire, which had my gloves and another bag sitting on it and asked if it was one of their books. Yes, I’m stealing from you while you are busy saving the world by not importing walnuts, you irritating, smug bitch. The whole thing smacked of Stuff White People Like and made me want to run out and do something bad to the environment. I contemplated asking which Atlantic Canadian coffee plantation they bought the coffee beans from and how they managed to grow sugar cane locally in the cold. I’m trying to be conscious of what I put out into the universe, though, and not get caught up in stupidity. I’ll just blog about it instead.