Puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet puppet.

I know I said I wouldn't write about my half-completed puppets ("Mother! Give me a face!") but I honestly can't think about anything else right now. Self-control, right? And self-control means that instead of writing about it, I'm going to stop here & sort through the extra wedding pictures I picked up yesterday. Maybe the urge to write about the puppets will have subsided by then and I can knock out yesterday's highlights.

There. After almost 4 years of waiting, I can give Dirk & Stacy the wedding pictures they ordered. There was a mix-up with responsibility, i.e. I was in Nova Scotia and my dad suddenly dropped the issue like a hot potato. These copies have been sitting in a file all this time, and it's only due to the fabulousness of our photographer Jason Raposo that they weren't binned years ago. So not only is he a perfect wedding photographer, he is also an excellent person.

His studio is in a gritty industrial area on the north side of town. I wrote down the wrong address, and walked into an ice cream distribution company.

"I'm here to see Jason Raposo," I said, my curious baby looking around in my arms.

"You're here to pick up an order of ice cream?" the man responded.

I should've agreed & walked out with an industrial-size order of the sweet stuff. Instead I was honest, and he directed me across the road. Jason met me in the parking lot, handing over the envelope of precious photos and asking me about my punk rock brother. Considering he spent exactly one day in our company, four years ago, I think this qualifies him for best photographer ever.

The rest of the day went quite well, although I spent quite a bit of time shuttling from one appointment to the next and Blake was in his car seat more than is probably good for him. He was given almost complete freedom outside of the car, however, so maybe that made up for it. We saw Laine & Orion in the morning; met at Baby Club (population, me) and trundled over to Dish for an early sandwich. She seems to be very ready to rejoin the outside world, which I admire. I was hardly that chipper at 6 weeks post-partum, and I didn't have a c-section. I forsee many mom n' tot activities in our collective future. As for yesterday, we contented ourselves with a curry-fuelled chat and she took herself home for a nap.

By the time I had secured adequate sushi for my lunch with Monstre, the Blake was asleep in the back. He woke up as soon as we got in the door, and spent his lunchtime eating anything he could grab and busily exploring the living room & its various pointy accoutrements while Monstre & I ate sushi and gossiped like old biddies. I feel like we're still in the stage where we have to talk frantically to one another; not because we're uncomfortable with each other but because there's a gap between bond and knowledge and we need to educate the other to match the depth of friendship that already exists. I've felt this way before, but not in a very long time. And Blake loves her too, loves her games and her silly faces and the opportunities she gives him to experiment with the new & exciting. While I was upstairs she sang to him and noticed that he frowns when the pitch is off. That doesn't sound too surprising, considering that his father is a fearless musician who is incredibly intuitive and dreams up new melodies every day.

I am slightly regretful. I wish that I could be of brighter countenance around Monstre; I get the feeling that she'd rather giggle with me than dredge up answers to painful topics. This is my great social failing: that I cannot for the life of me be cheerful when I am anxious about someone, whether they want my anxiety or not.

Still, I always enjoy myself at Monstre's house. Ever since I laboured there, I've always felt safe and loved under its roof. Seeing Monstre talkative & so very playful made me very happy, even with the darker undercurrent of these months bulking in the back of my mind. I suppose that's the salt in my cookies, the opposite contrast to make things more vital & dear.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 10/15/2004 07:39:00 p.m.