When You Said Tulips I Knew That You're Mine

I don't spend a lot of one-on-one time with my mom. We see each other often enough (2 parents + 4 kids + 4 significant others = a whole lot of birthdays to celebrate, on top of all the other mandatory dinners like Easter and Thanksgiving) but we don't really spend quality time together. So I invited her to go to the Tulip Festival with me because a: she's always really wanted to go and b: going to the States means buying American candy. Oh and I guess I should include c: I get to be the best daughter for a weekend.

I told my mom I would pick her up at nine so we could get to the border before it got too busy. At five to nine, I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, drinking coffee with my dad. After some truly magnificent faffing, which included two - TWO! - trips to the bank (the first to get cash and another after she realized the branch was open Saturday morning and she could get her American money out of her safety deposit box, if only we could head back to the house for a quick second so she could grab the safety deposit box key), we managed to leave for the border by ten. We got onto the highway, turned on the traffic report, and found out that there was a minimum two hour wait at the three nearest border crossings.

So. No tulips.

Instead, we went back to my place and grabbed Stella (Wolfgang had to sit this one out due to his man bits not being fully healed) and drove up to Buntzen Lake.

It's only an hour outside of Vancouver but it feels like you're in another world.

Everything is so green and alive.

The air smells so fresh.

There's a fabulous off-leash dog park on the beach that is fenced in on three sides, with the fence extending into the water so the dogs can swim.

Stella is not much of a swimmer.

She does, however, like to sniff out all the smelly beachy smells.

And then, you know, roll in them.

That right there? Is a picture of pure puppy bliss.

It wasn't the day we had planned but my mom and I had a really nice time. It's interesting to spend time with my mom when she's not mothering her flock. She's a lot more ... relaxed.

Paint Her Name On A One-Way Street

I want to paint my bathroom (well, to be honest, I want S to paint the bathroom.)

When I was a kid, my dad wouldn't let us paint our bedrooms. He was a big fan of white walls. It was a major victory when I finally convinced him that I needed a lemon yellow bedroom. Whenever we'd ask to paint our bedrooms dark, rich colours, Dad would say that dark colours require more coats and are impossible to paint over. My mother (also not a fan of dark colours) would say that they make a room seem smaller. Is this true? Or were they just coming up with excuses to not paint out bedrooms navy blue? Things to think about, before committing to a dark colour.

I love colour. I really want to paint the bathroom a deep, brick red. Which presents its own set of problems - mainly, is red out? Will I be dating our bathroom if I paint it red? When we decide to sell, will potential buyers be turned off by our bathroom because it's so 2002? I'm not talking about bright red - I want something like the lovechild of cranberry red and terracotta, if such a colour exists.

Our bathroom is very small and windowless, so my mother's "dark paint makes rooms feel smaller" stance is kind of freaking me out. There's not much wall to be painted; one whole wall is white tiles, there's a large mirror, a white door - possibly enough to break up the potential claustrophobia-inducing paint job.

Really, this whole painting thing is just an excuse for me to put off doing my homework. Realistically, we won't have time to paint until at least June so I should stop obsessing about the many different shades of red.