ahoy canadia

hello blog, how are you?

i'm stuck in canada. yep.

it snowed in boston last night, so our little 13-row plane was three hours delayed. we missed our connecting flight from halifax to heathrow. so we're at this nice hotel with all the other people that got stuck here with us.

i was sort of grumpy last night about it. but we've had a nice sleep and a nice breakfast (i had these pancakes that tasted like they were made with actual cake batter--pretty good i'd say) with real canadia maple syrup. yums.

so we are on our way to england to spend the holiday with ryan's family. it's just taking us a little longer. we're going to skip out on the man u match we were meant to go to in order to spend more quality time with the people we don't get to see very often. i was excited about the match, but it will be more rewarding and more relaxing to just hang out with friends and family.

i think next time we fly to england we'll go in the summer for two or three weeks instead of just a short one-week trip during the busy christmas traveling season and snow storm season.

well, someone else wants to use the hotel computer, and ryan and i are probably going to go to the aviation museum to see the airplanes or something canadian... other than hanging out at the airport for 10 hours.

^_^

happy crimbo all. will update and maybe include pictures when we get back. if you read this kittens, i love you all.

trouble him

i troubled myself
for the tremble and amble motive

the soft pink around his eyes
from less sleep from more talk

the lilt of his voice, a laugh that carries
and a tongue tying itself around chaos and argumentation
with the easy of a lover

to the insecurities hidden in books
and smiles and chitter chatter

a polite man, a gentle warmth

a passionate fighter with grace and conscious

my white knight in fleece armour
bucking the future he had in the past

and a credible sense of sorrow

my urge, met by the pillow side manner
of a want and a cuddle

happy birthday mom ^_^

the privacy of wells

the recognition is exposition, eruption.
the temptation is too great to ignore.

three children playing in the back garden of a duplex on Cordon Avenue
face a well. a bucket. and a ladle.

in her reflection one sees, she claims, eight colours. the colours form a rainbow.
she is the rainbow, she says.

the boy by her side, her brother, elbows her.

their friend looks at the girl’s reflection and confirms.
she is the rainbow. and he is the cloud.

her brother grunts, tells his sister and the boy “you’re grossing me out”.
he leaves. disgusted.

as he leaves, his sister and the boy drop pennies into the well.
he shakes his head. rainbows, gross.

the girl tells the boy, as if no one had ever said it before,
“every cloud has a silver lining”

he replies, “at the end of every rainbow is a pot of gold.”

they giggle, kiss, and hold hands. each staring at the other’s reflection in the well.

demmi sufferage

submit to the tug and rub of your lover's wants
the regal growl of his belly at eight in the morning

the ground plated with thin, wet snow
which sticks to the bottom of your shoe -- like something sweet --

your refuge is in a mug of oriental influences
and the tone of the monks' guttural hymn

take it with you, under the canopy of his imagination,
a torch of wonder and a wand of strategy

the logic of his birth and decay
the measure of his devotion

both yours to drink up
beside your breakfast of fat, juicy treats

painting by Dina Brodsky