This has been the year of a thousand weddings. Well, seven and two that we couldn’t attend – still that’s a crap ton of weddings to attend in one year. Our family had the joy to watch the people we love get married and, in some cases, we had the chance to be part of the weddings. Congratulations to all our lovely newlyweds and welcome to the club!
A four-year-old ring bearer? Adorable and he knew it – too bad the flower girl was less than impressed:
The littlest flower girls who were excited right up until the moment they had to walk down the aisle:
And one of the most beautiful brides, and smoking hot bridesmaids ever:
I posted this on Facebook earlier in a discussion over this article but I can’t resist posting it here since gendered toys and play is a subject that weighs heavily on my mind as my kids grow up.
I am going to weigh in because gah kids and bah the gendered crap that they sell is the bane of my existence. Lego in pink – shoot me – but I end up spending a fortune buying little female figurines because the sets only come with male ones. Also, why do most kitchen and baby sets come in pink? Ben loves these things just as much, if not more than, Fable. You can say it’s all my decision but it’s not really. Though I can often skip buying this garbage, what I can’t avoid is getting it at Christmas and for birthday presents. However, that said, I think toys only play a small role in children developing gender roles. How you act in your relationships, enforcing gender roles or not, and how you respond to the pink plague (ie. do you freak out if your kid plays with the wrong colour thing) plays a much bigger part.
While I don’t mind girly toys what I really want is a yellow barbie bus like my Aunties had and that I used to play with when I was a kid. I loved that thing with it’s mustard exterior, with dashing pink stripe and stunning brown interior.
Bring back the good old days!
I’m a sign language interpreter!! Come on I’m sure you know a bunch of people who do this, right?
I’m the lady on the other side of those brilliant people you watched ‘waving their hands’. I’m the one who is lucky enough to be their voice or become your voice for them.
As a sign-language interpreter, everyday is a new adventure for me. I rarely work in an office and I do not have a cubicle or a phone number where you can ‘catch me at a desk’. Actually, other than my smart phone I dont even work near a computer, something that seems to be rare now-a-days.
I work at Universities, Colleges, offices, at conferences, public events (the Olympics baby!), Christmas parties, weddings, funerals, and just about any other place communication happens. One day soon I hope to receive certification to work in medical settings. To do that I need to further my skills by participating in workshops and passing a series of tests, both written and skills based. This ain’t no monkey business.
I work with different people so my job never becomes dull or redundant. I travel all across the lower mainland, so I’ve gotten to know my city well. I get to go to interesting workshops that help me to become better at what I do.
I interpret every word you say. Think about your last fight with someone you care about; I’ve interpreted that. What’s the best news you ever got to tell someone? I’ve been there. Remember that weirdo who wouldn’t stop talking at the meeting? I got to interpret for him! While you were getting your University degree, I was the lady standing next to your professor making sure the deaf student in your class received the exact same information as you. My job is amazing!
A strange perk to what I do are the stories. Everytime I tell someone what I do for a living I get told a memory. I hear about the one deaf person someone knew or saw, the one time in school when they learned sign language or that they can finger spell their name. Sometimes I get told stories about deaf family members or their friends; sometimes I just hear how they’ve always wanted to learn the language (Did you know that ASL is a recognized language with its own grammar and syntax?)
So thats a little about me, What do you do?
My mom likes to tell me that as a little girl I was a terror. A climbing, noodling, busy little terror. Well Fable is proving that genetics are damn strong in this family. She is two years, four months; she has no fear and loves trying challenging new things. So check out Little Miss Monkey at my work picnic…