March: List Four

In an effort to follow the age-old advice, "write what you know", my contribution to the world's greatest works of literature will be about...

1. only ever successfully baking muffins on the second go
2. songbirds of North America
3. Lev Vygotsky's theory of cognitive development
4. obscure crochet abbreviations
5. insomnia
6. the complete works of Douglas Adams and Sir Terry Pratchett
7. the theory of evolution
8. edible plants and fungi of coastal British Columbia
9. the first four chapters of my physics textbook because I have to keep re-reading the damn thing
10. passive aggression
11. wilderness survival camping and why it's not nearly as much fun as staying in even the crappiest of sketchy motels
12. moving house
13. Doctor Who, beginning at Series Nine ( never skip Nine)
14. a random smattering of historical facts and minutiae, WITHOUT the help of Google, thankyouverymcuh
15. functionally dysfunctional families
16. cheese

Mary Shelley, eat your heart out.

March: List Three

Simple things one might do before leaving for a trip during a blizzard, in order to prevent one's spouse from going insane with worry and dread, leading her to alert the air force in two separate provinces, 

and upset the cat.

1. Don't
2. Leave
3. Your
4. Phone
5. At
6. The 
7. Office.

March: List Two

My mother can say things in normal conversation that, out of context, and sometimes even in context, sound like euphemisms for

le acte de l'amour. 

Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more, say no more.

1. Fluff the pillows.
2. Set up camp.
3. Start the dishwasher.
4. Shovel the walkway.
5. Massage the kale.
6. Your father needs to learn how to stack my bowls.

March: List One

Brief excerpts from an actually quite average conversation which are pretty good indicators that I am married to some sort of evil genius.

1. What's the worst that could happen?
2. I know what I'm doing.
3. I know what went wrong.
4. I think I can fix it.
5. It's just a little blood.
6. I by-passed the compressor.