blogthecat

Fall down laughing

If I’ve ever wanted to give out an award, it was today … for Best Laugh. Craig’s cousin, Janet, sent us this little video today and whether or not you’re a parent, you cannot help but feel your smile stretch up to your ears and latch on.

The video couldn’t have come at a better time for us … right when we’re on the verge of becoming total suckers and throwing our money at anything in size small or primary-coloured. It's also a nice companion to My kind of people—I should alert the Baby Bushers and let them know to add old newspaper to their product line! Price tag? $45.99?

But seriously, what an antidote to those times when everything feels complicated and murky. I could take a page from this book paper any day.

Greener pastures

Do you ever just stun yourself with how uninteresting you feel sometimes? I'm in one of those phases: perfectly content, yet remarkably dull. I trust that I will come out of this at some point, but at the moment, I'm feeling a little panicky at my brain's creative sluggishness and my consequent blogger's block. It's become important to me to post something every week ... it's a lovely little outlet, and good practice to keep it up, I think.

So I'm going to cheat a little and direct you to a wonderful blog I've been reading for the past while—seven hundred fifty words. The author, my friend Amy, possesses more than enough creativity to cover off my embarrassing dry spell. She's set herself the task of writing seven hundred and fifty words every single day, and though she felt overwhelmed by this when she first started a couple of months ago, she's very much in her element now and real-life proof of the rewards of practice. Her writing is personal, honest, and fluid, and most of her posts have a universal appeal to them. Enjoy!

My kind of people

When you’ve lived for 36 years without having kids (let alone babysitting one or changing a diaper), getting your head around …

• growing one
• birthing one
• feeding, clothing, and not breaking one
• entertaining one, and
• raising one to be a somewhat decent human being

… can be fairly daunting.

Thankfully, there are approximately 2,305,423 books, 3,987,375 websites, and 2,460 magazines ready and waiting to tell you exactly what you have to do to succeed as a parent. This is serious stuff. From what I’ve read so far, I get the clear impression that one wrong turn in the food, education, health, sleep, and activity departments will doom the baby to a life of crime and/or dimwittedness.

As if sensing my growing consternation at the heights I have been feeling I must achieve as a parent, my sister-in-law Nicole sent me a link to Baby Bush today. Their mission statement alone sets the tone for the rest of the website:

Sure, we all want the best for our kids, but let’s face the truth: not every child can grow up to be Einstein! At the Baby Bush Toy Company, we offer an exciting range of products designed for the resoundingly average child.

It’s the “resoundingly” that kills me. I have gone back to look at Baby Bush’s product line at least 16 times since receiving the link three hours ago: the combination of image, copy, and outlandish price keeps me going back.

Also check out the testimonials: degenerate father Ted Barnes is my favourite.

Thank you, Baby Bush. I needed you today.

Love in all the right places

If you're like me, you cringe at 95% of the Valentine's Day schlock we're subjected to. Ads and the like tend to be either corny, tacky, distasteful, repellent in their desperation to wring dollars from us ... or all of the above. But sometimes, I do come across the odd ode to love in February that hits me exactly the right way. Like this one.

Created by our friends James and Monique, this ad situates chocolate smack in the midst of the senses, its rightful place. Chocolate never had it so good as on, and nestled into, this gorgeous belly. The ad is fun, sexy, and effective—it strikes the right balance of risqué and restraint (note the spare but cute copy, too).

The ad was created on James's new web-based ad creation platform that's open to anyone: AdHack. On AdHack, ad creation escapes from the boundaries of the traditional model and allows people to play with their creativity. It also produces some damn good ads, which can be bought (e.g., M&Ms could buy this ad if they wanted to).

Check out AdHack ... and tell me if you don't think a couple of times today about M&Ms ...

One of those days

We have a screwy toilet. It’ll be fine for a couple of months, dormant really, and then like a monster it wakes up, grumpy as all hell. It been up for a couple of weeks now and making threatening noises, gurgling and choking during the last throes of the flush. We’ve taken to standing over it—transfixed in a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity—to see if it will make good on its promises and really explode.

Only today did we snap out of it and call the landlord. By the time she could come over, I was alone; Craig was on his way to the airport for a ski trip. It was up to me to explain our way to better plumbing.

We faced the toilet. I articulated the problem. She flushed it. Hardly a sound. Cool, clear water filled up gently and quickly to the necessary level. I laughed nervously, and mumbled the age-old truism about bringing a broken car to the mechanic only to have it purr like new in the shop. She ignored me, and flushed again. If possible, it was quieter. I didn’t say anything. “Again?” she asked, darting a smug look over at me. “Why not?” I said, and endured the third perfectly normal, obedient flush.

We backed out of the bathroom, but I couldn’t leave it there. I was feeling dumb and vengeful (a horrible combination) and needing to assert my tenant’s rights somehow. I led her to the bedroom, where there’s a light fixture near the end of one of our alcoves (the one that will become the baby’s room) that we’ve never been able to turn on. I suggested it might be faulty wiring. Over she marched to the light. Reached her hand up to the back of it, grasped a little chain, and pulled it softly. On went the light.

She left. We didn’t exchange many pleasantries. I went to take a pee. Flushed the toilet. Listened stonefaced as the water struggled noisily though the dirty rotten pipes.   

My little grey spirit

My baby Franny passed away last month. She had been losing weight but showed no signs of pain. She was slower and quieter, but she still came down every night at 8 pm to yell at me and eat bites of my dinner beside me. Lately, she was turning up her nose at nothing—pizza, bread, pasta, whatever. As long as I was eating it, she wanted it. Then we would cuddle. No one could cuddle like Fran.

For the last half-year or so, she stole her time with me at night, knowing that Oliver took every ounce of my attention and energy in the day. She knew there was less of me for her, and she accepted this without protest. This made me love her even more than I had before. She asked only that I adore her desperately for a little while at the end of each day. I did so happily and every bit as desperately as she might have hoped for.

I found solace burying my face in Franny’s fur at the end of long days with Oliver, days that—as any mother of a new baby knows—are not only joyful but exhausting. With her, I became a little more just me again, me as me and not as mother too, me as nerves and heart and thoughts and dreams. All these I would pour into her little body, and she received them gratefully.

Branders, shmanders

Some of the work Craig and I do is what’s called branding and positioning: we help clients identify and communicate their most compelling strengths and stories and make a positive impression in the marketplace. It can be neat work, because part of it involves activating the sincere values and beliefs at the core of a company. It's not just a matter of pretty language and graphics. Good brands tap into the personality—and people—of a company.

When we brainstormed our own company website, we definitely wanted to practice what we preach. We wanted a website that conveyed both our professional offerings and a sense of who we are—since our brand is not just about “strategy, marketing, communications” but also Kiley and Craig. For the most part, we’re happy with the result. But for one glaring problem—which we just discovered.

We plopped a quote we thought was pretty cool and representative of our brand up on our homepage:

The value of an idea lies in the using of it.
Thomas Edison

In other words, hire us to help you develop your ideas and turn them into real things—don’t waste them.

So far so good on the branding front. Thank you, Thomas Edison.

Craig broke bad news to me tonight at dinner. He was listening to CBC radio today and it came up that Edison’s brilliance came at a cost. Seems he routinely sent bored schoolchildren into the neighbourhood to gather up cats (and dogs) that he would then electrocute in a public square to prove the deadliness of a competitor’s electrical invention.

As you know, I am close to insane in my adoration of cats. Like, there's-going-to-be-something-on-my-tombstone-about-cats kind of adoration. Okay, not that bad, but really close.

So the cat-electrocuting Edison in the place of honour on our homepage? Ungood. Distinctly ungood.

I would fire us.

Time for a new quote.

p.s. Edison didn't stop at cats, as you'll see from the link above.
p.p.s. Did you know about this? Craig's Uncle Wayne sent us an email about it a few months back, but we thought he was just quipping (he's a witty guy) and we didn't look into it. A mistake.

Oasis in a busy day

Ricocheting between errands yesterday, Craig and I fell into a convenience store on Broadway to grab some sustenance, yammering inanely as we so often do. Our thoughts were on our various missions involving setting up the baby’s room (okay, alcove) in some fashion befitting his infant self. Soon, we would be braving the “soul-destroying” (Craig) IKEA experience, and we were already a little hysterical at the prospect.

I loaded our purchases onto the countertop, hardly looking at the man who was serving us, so distracted was I at the time. Gum, juice, and a Cadbury Thins chocolate bar. I was already beginning to turn toward the exit when the storekeeper spoke. He was East Asian and very calm and poised. He looked me in the eyes, then quietly but clearly said, “I wish you good luck. God bless.” Then he glanced down for the briefest second at my tummy, which is now proudly announcing the imminent being within.

I am not religious, but I felt blessed. The man was reverential, polite, and honest. He halted me in my tracks, both physically and in my mind. I looked up at Craig, whose eyes had gone as soft as mine, and … let’s just say we had a moment.

The kindness of strangers. It can be transformative.