Our Super is supposed to come rip up the floor of the bathroom today. Tomorrow he'll put in the tile. If this actually happens, it will be very exciting. We've had a tile-less section under the sink for, oh, two years. The first year was the building's fault. This past year was mine.

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My dad arrives on Sunday, to help plaster the walls. Yes, he's 79. He's 79 and went skiing this winter, despite having broken his back twice and been hit by a car in the past four years. And he's climbing the Burgess Shale this summer. A few weeks back he and my brother went canoeing for a weekend. He's pretty amazing.

My mom is pretty amazing, too. She still plays the harp at weddings, and gives lessons. Minor detail: she didn't learn to play the harp until she was nearly retired.

Remind me to grow up to be like that.

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Somewhere on my to-do list is to come up with nifty names for all those rites of passage/ages that don't have one. Like this: what do you call the birthday when you turn the age at which your mother gave birth to you, but you haven't had a baby yet? 

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For those who have asked what happened to my The Problem With Happy Kids post, I finally figured it out. So it's back up.