I tried.

Spoiler alert: I did not write every day in June. I did not even complete a full week. I fully intended to and then last night I fell asleep sometime during hour three of Poppy’s endless bedtime shenanigans and now here I am. Starting over on June 7th. 

I’m refusing to consider this a failure, though. One of my first thoughts when I woke up this morning was “I have to blog!” and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. It didn’t feel like an obligation, it felt like a spark. I’m stretching my writing muscles and it feels good.  

Stay tuned for more riveting content where I commit to something, mess it up, and then refuse to feel any shame. I’m going back to my personal blogging roots of a decade ago and it feels good. 


Back in early July, peak summer, our neighbourhood park was dismantled.  

We knew it was coming. There had been planning meetings and neighbourhood consultations and the release of official blueprints. And so, on that sunny morning when the fences went up and the playground equipment started to come down, we weren't surprised. We were expecting the change. We knew our park would be rebuilt, better, bigger, and more interesting than before.  

The weeks passed. The planned unveiling date - Labour Day long weekend - came and went. Summer changed into autumn. Our park remains dismantled. Dismantled but not abandoned. There's a lot of activity at our park. Some days it's almost frenetic. Structures have been built, gravel has been dumped, turf has been laid and watered by an extensive sprinkler system even though it rained for 28 of October's 31 days (and don't even get me started on November). Things are happening at our park. 

We pass our park every morning on the way to school and every afternoon on the way home from school. When I go out for groceries, to the doctor, wherever, I pass our sad, scattered park. It's difficult not to relate. Our park is a work in progress. She's busy and not quite functional and dreams of being valued and fulfilling to others. She's not there yet but she will be one day. When she's not dismantled. 



It’s raining tonight. It’s raining tonight and it’s been raining basically nonstop for two days and there’s a full moon. Conditions are ripe for a little rebirth is what I’m saying.

A couple days ago a friend texted to see how my day was going and I replied, “I feel like I’m losing my grip.” I didn’t specify on what. Reality, sanity, take your pick. It’s been a weird month, an odd season, a wonky year. I’m discombobulated and have been for a while.

But there’s not a lot I love more than a little moon magic, and a good rainstorm can always shake my mood loose.

2019 will go down in the books as not my favourite year, but I’m not writing it off completely just yet. There’s more than a quarter of the year remaining, and it’s a good quarter indeed. I’ve got pumpkin pie season, my birthday and Thanksgiving, spooky season, 50%-off candy season, and then the explosion of joy that is December to look forward to. My internal (eternal, I hope) optimist is ready to salvage what I can of 2019. Pass the Reese’s.