imperfect prose on thursdays: leaning on mary, the mother of Jesus

As of this month I have no one. My nanny, a girl of 18 who’s been coming since we took the boys in, has moved. Trent has started coaching, so the hours are long in the bleak of winter dark and the kids are so small that I bundle them all up in snow-pants and toques...

on how we are all mentally ill (and a video invitation from me to you)

(before watching video, scroll down and pause music player on right-hand side of blog…)it’s been a bloody kind of week.you know, the kind that seeps all red onto pillows from little boys’ noses after they’ve hurt themselves on purpose because...