Wednesday, February 26, 2014

{einstein and space-time}


Last night I had the house to myself and a few hours to kill. I spent the first bit listening to oldies and doodling while Sullivan napped on my lap.

Kind of mindlessly, because that is how I kind of am, I drew a clock. That got me thinking about time, which is probably to be expected. But that got me thinking about Einstein and space-time and special relativity. I spent the rest of the night listening to Simon and Garfunkel and reading scientific research papers on quantum electrodynamics and the possibility of time travel.

After a paper about how future time travel is supported by good science but travel into the past is not and one explaining the twin paradox, I read something about these scientists and their incredibly accurate atomic clocks able to keep time to within one second in about 3.7 billion years who proved that time can run faster or slower depending on how high you are and how fast you're travelling and about how for every foot above the ground, a person would age something like 90 billionths of a second faster over the course of their lifetime.

For some reason, that specific article made me sad. I'm not really sure what's so depressing about the theory of relativity, but I finally had to shut my laptop and clean the kitchen to take my mind off of things.

And that's probably why I'm more of a housewife and less of a scientist.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

{life after snow}

About halfway through February, every year, I forget.

I forget about above-zero and outdoor music festivals and ice cream on cathedral steps and food carts on the plaza and sandal tans and colours. I look at the sky and it's grey and I look at the ground and it's white. I forget that there are other colours that outside can be.

So I sit by the window and glare at the clouds as though they are snowing just to spite me. I forget that clouds are only floating masses of condensed water vapour and typically do nothing out of malevolence. I forget that I am way too insignificant for clouds to care about my feelings even if they could.

"Yesterday," I muse, "it was winter. Today, it is winter. Tomorrow, it will be winter." I forget that seasons are like bike tires and that spring is actually going to come around again.

It is. It has to. At least, it did last year, I think.

But I can't remember for sure. Is there ever going to be anything other than huddling under blankets and cars that won't start and roads so slick you could skate to the grocery store? I look out the window. So much snow. I'm not sure there hasn't always been this much snow.

But on Monday, the sun came out a little. (I like to think that the sun has a soft spot for me, infinitesimal though I may be.) The clouds went off to bother someone else and the temperatures skyrocketed to zero and it was warm enough to leave the house with your coat unbuttoned. So I made a point of it.

Barclay and I bundled Sullivan up and took him on his First Ever Walk to The Naked Bean, our favourite little coffee shop down the street. He slept through the whole thing and the shop was closed because it was a holiday. photo IMG_8891_zpsbccbfc89.jpg
But the point is not that. The point is that it just felt so good to get out and that the simple act of walking down the street without getting frostbitten jogged my memory enough to maybe get me through till April.

There is life after snow.

Friday, February 14, 2014

{apostrophe, please}

 photo hearts8.jpgThings you need to know about Valentine's Day:

1. It's Valentine's Day, not Valentines Day. It's a possessive phrase originating from 'St. Valentine's Day'.

That's all I really care that you know about Valentine's Day. I won't add to the mass social media flood of "what I did/got on Valentine's Day (note that blessed apostrophe)" or "how much I hate hate hate Valentine's Day" or "why you shouldn't hate on people who love Valentine's Day". It really doesn't matter where I stand on all of it.

WHAT MATTERS IS THE APOSTROPHE, YOU GUYS.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

{what cold people do for fun}

 photo IMG_8734_zps9360f54e.jpg When Barclay got home from work yesterday, Becky and I had all the ice cream out of the freezer and were in the middle of a science experiment. Sort of. Like, the kind of science experiment second graders do.

(Not to negate the scientific prowess of eight year-olds.)

(The ice cream wasn't exactly part of the science experiment. The ice cream was just to make us happy.)

We were mixing watercolours and freezing them on sheets of paper on the back step to see if ice crystals would form in the paint. You know, like how they do on the windowpane, but in Technicolor. Because...well. Because why not? Because we're Canadian and we need to figure out some way to put this -30 weather to good use. Because I miss science class. Because what's funner than watching paint dry?
 photo IMG_8757_zps520e0377.jpg I can just see the thought bubble above your head right now.

Anyway. It sort of worked but mostly didn't, (as seen in exhibits a & b below) which is okay because we'll just try it again using a little less paint next time and a little more water and maybe heavier paper plus we'll leave it out there longer. And then the idea is to paint an actual picture and let the whole thing crystallize. Should be pretty, I think.
 photo DSCN1036_zps2d1bd171.jpg  photo DSCN1035_zps138c4832.jpg And when we've perfected the art of watercolour crystal-making...maybe we'll have to move on to something more third-grade. Like magic ink.

Wednesday, February 05, 2014

{suddenly}

Wild Country by Wake Owl was playing on the radio. I turned it up so he'd be able to hear it through my winter jacket. It was 32 below and I'd forgotten to wear mittens. Barclay was driving; I was hunched over in the passenger seat wishing away red lights. It was 1:30 AM and I had a banana in my pocket in case I got hungry. We arrived, parked, picked our way across the ice, speaking in reverent whispers as though we were walking through a cathedral instead of a parking lot.

Every second and every step and every word felt strange because I knew that Something Big was about to happen and I knew that it would change everything and that I'd look back on those seconds and steps and words as Before.

We held hands, I caught my breath. I forgot, for a second, how to breathe it out again. We climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Barclay held my head in his hands as we paused in the stairwell. I was smiling, but I was scared. My heart was pounding in my chest and I imagined the second, smaller one in my belly was doing the same. Did he know something was happening?

I didn't know what to say to the nurse at the front desk. I felt bewildered, even though I'd known this night was coming for months and months now. "Hi, Um." I chewed furiously on my bottom lip. "I think I'm going to have a baby."

And then the night melted away as though it were made of ice cubes and snow instead of minutes and hours. And then someone said he was coming, and then I heard him, and suddenly there was only one heart in my body. The other was being placed in my arms in the most perfect, tiny package I'd ever seen. And I cried.
 photo IMG_8303_zpsac82cb19.jpg  photo IMG_8299_zpsd4d348a2.jpg  photo IMG_8297_zps38d8dd58.jpg We've named him Sullivan Barclay Krause. He was born on Tuesday, January 21--one day early--at 7:39 AM.
 photo IMG_8482_zps9f71618e.png He's all tangled up in my heartstrings. His little face is still brand new, but already so familiar that I picture it instantly every time I shut my eyes. I'm beyond 'happy' or 'thankful'.

I'm somewhere without words.  photo IMG_8571_zpse6e9af0a.jpg  photo IMG_8568_zps88ebe9e4.jpg