Music for possibly the weirdest wedding anniversary ever

This wedding anniversary did not turn out as planned. 

Maybe I'll tell you about it later.  

Nuthin' tragic.  

Certainly educational.

Meanwhile, Canada Day is bearing down upon us - it promises some weirdness as well - so I offer this dreamy ditty from Toronto-born Abigail Lapell. Everywhere we go, you know everyone, people say hello/ Every time you call our song starts playing, on the radio /

Has it been a year or two?  Will it be cotton or leather? 

Mercury and iron, carbon, silver, bind us together/ 

Diamonds are a dime a dozen, take my hand/ Take my hand and don’t stop running

Happy anniversary, one more year/ Frozen in amber, for eternity /Oh darling, oh my dear 

Has it been a year or two? Will it be cotton or leather? 

Mercury and iron, carbon, silver, bind us togethеr, together

Everywhеre we go, you know everyone (Happy anniversary)/ People say hello (One more year, frozen in amber) 

Every time you call our song starts playing (For eternity, oh darling oh my dear)/On the radio

A cold and friendless time

Nineteen years ago, when the move to Hades was looming, and the Resident Fan Boy was transferring, I'd take younger daughter to a gym class at the Y, while elder daughter was in school.  It was a fairly unstructured class, more of a playtime.  I'd hover while younger daughter climbed, and half-listen to a tape of Disney classic songs that played at each session.

There was one song, though, that, even if I couldn't quite hear the lyrics, always brought me to the edge of tears.  I'd swallow them back, and attend to the task at hand.


I'd never seen Pete's Dragon; it was one of those kids' films that post-dated my childhood, and predated my motherhood. (I did see the 2016 remake with younger daughter, and remember next to nothing of it.)

Listening to it today,  I'm just as glad I couldn't make out all the lyrics.  Mind you, back then, I probably wouldn't have realized how apt they were - although I think a part of me knew.  It's that desperate promise every mother longs to keep: that she'll always support you, guide you, never leave you.  Sometimes, she can manage it for the first fleeting years, but children can't be shielded forever.

I'll never let you go.

We have to, eventually.  It's the point of the exercise.

Persephone enters the previous decade

I'm aware that I'm a dinosaur, and not just because I have adolescent daughters.  I also have the news media to remind me that just about every item I use is tottering on the edge of obsolescence: our land line, the DVDs, the CDs, network television, the PC, even, heaven help me, my cherished iPod.

This week's life-changing event was my acquisition of a lap-top.  In fact yesterday's post was a mile-stone:  my very first post composed and posted entirely in my lap.  Kind of a cyber-lap-dance, only way more expensive.

I've been yearning for my own lap-top for some time, particularly after both daughters acquired theirs to navigate university (because you can't do university these days without one) and high school (because when you have a severe learning and language disability, along with less than fabulous fine motor skills, you need all the help you can get).  I had neither excuse, but a desire not to go through another summer house-sitting a place lacking a DVD-player and sporting a dial-up.  Also, neither daughter will let me use her lap-top.  Ever.  It's the Harry Potter books all over again.

So last Friday found me standing in a cold sweat in an Apple store, looking pleadingly at elder daughter whenever the salesman asked me a question.  The session turned into a practical exam, because when my new device was "loaded", it involved my entering things with trembling fingers used to a PC keyboard under the watchful eye of the salesman/techie.

"How bad was I?"  I whispered to elder daughter as we exited with my trophy in a bag over my shoulder.
"Let's just say you've come across as more intelligent on other occasions," muttered elder daughter diplomatically.

That bad, huh?

"What about that Apple Care, though?"  Having dropped what seems like an enormous amount of money on this thing, the salesman managed to talk me into paying extra for whatever tech support would be needed, even though elder daughter flatly refused it for herself.
"Well, I think you're a better candidate for that kind of thing," she said, holding precariously on to her diplomacy.
"So you think I'll be dropping by the store with questions all the time?"
"Mum, you will have me.  I'm kinda your live-in one-to-one tutor."

Which, of course, was why I'd timed my purchase for the beginning of elder daughter's return from Halifax, in the hope that by July, I'll have this MacBook stuff under my belt.  It's just unfortunate that Blogger chose this time to switch to a completely new format at the same time I'm struggling to understand the re-designed NaBloPoMo.

So this has been an interesting weekend while I attempt to retrain my personal-computer mind and digits into the configuration of a MacBook Pro.  It may be working.  I still do a few things at the PC, due mainly to my failure to figure out what my "administrative password" is, which means I can't download things like Adobe Flash (which, I'm discovering this weekend, I need).  This morning, I caught myself stroking the bar below the PC keyboard, before remembering to reach for the mouse.

I'm not sure why elder daughter has barricaded herself in her bedroom, though.  I miss her.  Also, I have another question....