Bicycle, Bicycle... I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

In the winter of 2012 I sat in my dining room table and cried. Big drops splashing on the table top as I described one of my loves in detail, which was now missing, to the police. My red and white Schwinn had be stolen from our back yard. It wasn't so much that I was sad about the bike (don't get my wrong I was) but I was furious that someone had gone through our gate and taken it. So, I cried. 

Feeling violated and pissed off, I made myself feel better by telling myself that, living in a city infamous for bike theft, it was only a matter of time before it got stolen. But damn I loved that bike.

Imagine how quickly my head whipped around when I walked past our friends' house a few days ago and saw my beautiful bicyclette propped up against the garage door! After a few emails we discovered my bike had been ditched on their neighbours yard. The police wouldn't come get it so they gave it to my friend.  

 I know I should be super grateful and excited I got my bike back. I am. What are the chances, seriously!? I'm a little annoyed, however; at the guy who found it and was too lazy to take a super nice bike to the cop shop (a 3 min drive away) in hopes of someone being reunited with their long lost love...

...

... okay okay, I'm taking a breath and letting it out.

And now I'm stoked to have my bike back.

Charlie... it's short for Penelope

When her name came to me I thought that would be it. We got the old lady vintage baby name we wanted; she was classic and I stayed true to the insane reoccurring dream I had while pregnant of a spider. I will spare you the gory B-Movie details... but what it came down to was dreaming of the weaver, the change... MY change... voila: Penelope.

So, why do I want to call her Charlie?

Almost 2 years ago it was basically narrowed down to Matilda or Penelope. Then a couple weeks before our daughter was born, my partner and I both kind of fell in love with the name Charlie. Then I called her George for the first day she was alive because she reminded me of my grandpa George, super wrinkly and looking like she should just be out fishing somewhere... in plaid with big cuffed jeans. (yeah, he was all kinds of awesome.) Anyway, after day 3, or 4 maybe I tried calling her Matilda or Tilda and it just didn't fit. (Much to the joy of my sister in law who has promptly claimed the name for her first daughter.) Then, because I also dig the boy names for girls I tried calling her George (J hated it) or Charlie... but I knew she was Penelope. I could feel it when I looked at her. So, we named her that. Penelope Mae. She's my vintage doll.

Although I look at her and I do see Penelope (Poppet), there is still part of me that wants to call her Charlie. Quite strongly over the last week or two... What the hell? Am I alone in this? Anyone else second guess their kid's name through the years?

I can just hear it now...

"What's your daughter's name?" 
"Charlie"
"oh, cute... is that short for Charlotte?"
"no no, Penelope"

*snort. 

I found out Saturday night that J's grandfather's mom was named Charlotte... that would have been so perfect. And now just keep thinking about having another baby so I can name it. I have apparently had too much whiskey tonight.

Earth Hour: Kingston Unplugged

Massive tantrum in the middle of a store, the kissing that's the best I've ever had, the chalk board and her new sudden independence. It's been happening and I'll be blogging about it all.... 

After I get past running this: