It's been a long time since I've come across a book I want to burrow into and refuse to come out. I tend to like family epics that verge on the fantastical as the story unfolds to reveal the human condition. Like One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Midnight's Children, A Suitable Boy, and A Fine Balance.
Because Naguib Mahfouz died recently, I decided to read him. He's the only Arab writer who's ever won the Nobel Prize for literature. I picked up his book, Children Of The Alley and already, I am hooked on the first page. That's very powerful writing to hook me in so early.
The story parallels the bible - the casting out of Adham and his wife from the mansion, the fight between Adham's sons resulting in the death of one of them, the adoption of an orphan by a wealthy house and later the young man's return to his people to fight oppression by his adopted family's people. Mahfouz must subscribe to the theory that Christianity has its roots in Egyptian mythology.
As much as I know what happens next in the storyline, I can't put the book down. His writing is that compelling. Which proves that it's not so much the story, but the storyteller and the telling of it that draws us in. Maybe the same way gossip columnist make us flock to celebrity gossip. They are just repetitions of the same story with different spins on love, honour, betrayal, punishment and forgiveness.
So here's my own story of love and betrayal. Until Mahfouz died, I had never heard of him. The Man saw me reading Children Of The Alley and asked how I was enjoying the book. Then he told me he gave me a set of Mahfouz's books one Christmas because he knew I had an interest in Egyptian stories. Evidently, not only did I never open those books, I have no recollection of receiving them and certainly don't know where they are now.
But on reflection, I do recall a set of books that bore a name that could have been Mahfouz. I was so interested in that set of books, and believing them to belong to The Man, I packed them up in a box and sent them off to storage.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
What We Need
Mark Kingwell is my boyfriend.
That is, he is one of my favourite writers because he's so human and humane. He's young (under 50), he's local (teaches at U of T), he's had a makeover (he transformed from a geek with thick glasses to style icon with shaven head with the success of his book, In Pursuit of Happiness: Better Living From Plato to Prozac, though now he may be sporting a ponytail), he's full of himself (adopts that false humility so favoured by philosphers who ramble on).
But most of all, he expresses my views much more thoughtfully and eloquently than I could ever pen. You know that feeling of accord and being understood you get when you read someone and say, Yes, that's exactly how I feel too but he says it so much better. That's Kingwell for me. Him and Rick Mercer. Are you reading Rick Mercer's blog yet? His recent posts are about the Liberal leadership race - recruiting dead Canadians and the race between Iggy and Rae. I like that Rick stabs everyone. But I digress.
Kingwell specializes in theories on politics and culture. I met him one day at an author's reading and I wanted to be his groupie. I followed him around the room, but I guess I make a bad groupie because he never knew I was following him. Maybe following with the eyes doesn't count as groupie behaviour.
But it is the upcoming November municipal election that had me going back to Kingwell, to read his The World We Want: Virtue, Vice, and the Good Citizen. Not that Kingwell has all the answers. He's an idealist afterall. The question is, how do we build the world we want? By engaging in our civic responsibility to establish belongingness and ensure social justice. Easier said than done when we're so busy tending to day to day living.
Still, we need a guiding goal that at least put us in the right direction. And it's in reseaching this direction that I land on Philia, a site dedicated to the development of good citizenship. On their book list, I see four books that I have read in whole or in part (sometimes, one just can't get into this kind of reading). I guess I have an interest in discovering how to build the world we want.
So all groupieness aside, I count Kingwell among one of my inspirations.
That is, he is one of my favourite writers because he's so human and humane. He's young (under 50), he's local (teaches at U of T), he's had a makeover (he transformed from a geek with thick glasses to style icon with shaven head with the success of his book, In Pursuit of Happiness: Better Living From Plato to Prozac, though now he may be sporting a ponytail), he's full of himself (adopts that false humility so favoured by philosphers who ramble on).
But most of all, he expresses my views much more thoughtfully and eloquently than I could ever pen. You know that feeling of accord and being understood you get when you read someone and say, Yes, that's exactly how I feel too but he says it so much better. That's Kingwell for me. Him and Rick Mercer. Are you reading Rick Mercer's blog yet? His recent posts are about the Liberal leadership race - recruiting dead Canadians and the race between Iggy and Rae. I like that Rick stabs everyone. But I digress.
Kingwell specializes in theories on politics and culture. I met him one day at an author's reading and I wanted to be his groupie. I followed him around the room, but I guess I make a bad groupie because he never knew I was following him. Maybe following with the eyes doesn't count as groupie behaviour.
But it is the upcoming November municipal election that had me going back to Kingwell, to read his The World We Want: Virtue, Vice, and the Good Citizen. Not that Kingwell has all the answers. He's an idealist afterall. The question is, how do we build the world we want? By engaging in our civic responsibility to establish belongingness and ensure social justice. Easier said than done when we're so busy tending to day to day living.
Still, we need a guiding goal that at least put us in the right direction. And it's in reseaching this direction that I land on Philia, a site dedicated to the development of good citizenship. On their book list, I see four books that I have read in whole or in part (sometimes, one just can't get into this kind of reading). I guess I have an interest in discovering how to build the world we want.
So all groupieness aside, I count Kingwell among one of my inspirations.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Is Too Much Enough?
We had a very nice dinner last weekend. It was a triple-birthday bash. Bro Bro, The Boy and Kid2 all had their birthdays within days of each other.
Bro hosted the event. I always like it when our extended family gets together. I like seeing the kids play together, and I like how Bro's house is so big, the adults could all be doing things and tend to their own addictions in different rooms.
But the thing I can't get over still is the quantity of food we had. I have not cooked since that dinner because I am still eating the leftovers from it. It's not like we haven't talked about the need to avoid food excess at past dinners, it's not like we're rake thin and need to put on weight, it's not like there were 100 of us at the dinner.
There were 17 of us. 5 were children. So that's really 12 adults, plus little kids being picky about their food. Bro ordered 40 pieces of breaded sole, 40 pieces of whole grilled calamari, 3 chickens cut up, plus potatoes and rice. Apparently, he figured that each person would have 2 pieces of fish, 2 whole calamaris and a piece of chicken, with a few pieces extra in case someone is really hungry, plus partake of the large platters of sushi that Bro Bro brought, the giant salad that Sis brought, and the vegetables I brought. And the three desserts.
I was going to say Bro Bro is the new mom. But even mom felt there was too much food and discouraged him from grilling the lamb and chicken wings, and me from cooking the third vegetable I brought.
In the end, only a tiny chunk was taken from each platter. There were lots of care packages to take home.
I don't mean to complain. It's really nice having so much good food that lasts a week. But I can't help marvel at much Bro over-estimated. Really, there was enough food to feed a hundred.
Bro hosted the event. I always like it when our extended family gets together. I like seeing the kids play together, and I like how Bro's house is so big, the adults could all be doing things and tend to their own addictions in different rooms.
But the thing I can't get over still is the quantity of food we had. I have not cooked since that dinner because I am still eating the leftovers from it. It's not like we haven't talked about the need to avoid food excess at past dinners, it's not like we're rake thin and need to put on weight, it's not like there were 100 of us at the dinner.
There were 17 of us. 5 were children. So that's really 12 adults, plus little kids being picky about their food. Bro ordered 40 pieces of breaded sole, 40 pieces of whole grilled calamari, 3 chickens cut up, plus potatoes and rice. Apparently, he figured that each person would have 2 pieces of fish, 2 whole calamaris and a piece of chicken, with a few pieces extra in case someone is really hungry, plus partake of the large platters of sushi that Bro Bro brought, the giant salad that Sis brought, and the vegetables I brought. And the three desserts.
I was going to say Bro Bro is the new mom. But even mom felt there was too much food and discouraged him from grilling the lamb and chicken wings, and me from cooking the third vegetable I brought.
In the end, only a tiny chunk was taken from each platter. There were lots of care packages to take home.
I don't mean to complain. It's really nice having so much good food that lasts a week. But I can't help marvel at much Bro over-estimated. Really, there was enough food to feed a hundred.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Forever Young
The Boy has eclectic taste in music. But I am an old fogey. I enjoy sitting side by side with him as we each work on our own computer, mainly because I get to listen to his music, and once in a while, he tells me a funny story. I don't know who all the artists are that he listens to, but I like all of the sounds, rhythms, melodies and lyrics I've heard so far, including the Arctic Monkeys and Panic! At The Disco.
So today, being The Boy's 16th birthday, I dedicate this song to him, written by Bob Dylan, but as sung by Joan Baez, in her clear, strong voice, not his off key mumbling.
And also Rod Stewart's more upbeat, punky, raspy rendition, probably more to The Boy's liking.
So today, being The Boy's 16th birthday, I dedicate this song to him, written by Bob Dylan, but as sung by Joan Baez, in her clear, strong voice, not his off key mumbling.
May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young.
May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young.
May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young.
And also Rod Stewart's more upbeat, punky, raspy rendition, probably more to The Boy's liking.
May the good lord be with you
Down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness
Surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young.
May good fortune be with you
May your guiding light be strong
Build a stairway to heaven
With a prince or a vagabond
And may you never love in vain
And in my heart you will remain
Forever young.
And when you finally fly away
I'll be hoping that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime
No one can ever tell
But whatever road you choose
I'm right behind you, win or lose
Forever young.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Caged
I went in search of a bird for my 5-year-old neice. A real, live bird. I wanted a small bird in a small cage. I had a finch in mind. But most pet shops carry budgies, which are okay. The sales people said, They're just like parrots, you can train them to talk. But I really didn't care for their chatter and the very yellow feathers.
I did find a shop that carries finches. Beautiful delicate finches. I wanted a pair for myself. The Man said, Don't get them, they're noisy whiners. I said, Nonsense, they have a pretty birdsong. But they need to be kept in pairs. That's two birds in a cage for two. No longer a small cage. After looking at the finches for a while, I couldn't do it. I couldn't buy caged birds.
As pretty as they were, as romantic as the idea was to give a pair of birds to my neice, I felt there was something vile about caging birds. I was reminded of why I can no longer go to zoos. I can't stand seeing the animals penned up, living in an artificial environment, whose sole purpose of existence is to be on display.
Or why I can't go to circuses. I can't stomach seeing animals whipped and made to do unnatural things for our entertainment. It seems so disrespectful to them, so degrading, so conceited of the trainer to exert his will on them just to show his mastery, as if boasting of man's dominion over animals.
Not that I am such an animal lover. I just want a pair of finches to admire and keep me company. I still want to give my neice a pair. I mean, how is keeping birds in a cage different from keepng fish in a tank? I need to sort this out.
I did find a shop that carries finches. Beautiful delicate finches. I wanted a pair for myself. The Man said, Don't get them, they're noisy whiners. I said, Nonsense, they have a pretty birdsong. But they need to be kept in pairs. That's two birds in a cage for two. No longer a small cage. After looking at the finches for a while, I couldn't do it. I couldn't buy caged birds.
As pretty as they were, as romantic as the idea was to give a pair of birds to my neice, I felt there was something vile about caging birds. I was reminded of why I can no longer go to zoos. I can't stand seeing the animals penned up, living in an artificial environment, whose sole purpose of existence is to be on display.
Or why I can't go to circuses. I can't stomach seeing animals whipped and made to do unnatural things for our entertainment. It seems so disrespectful to them, so degrading, so conceited of the trainer to exert his will on them just to show his mastery, as if boasting of man's dominion over animals.
Not that I am such an animal lover. I just want a pair of finches to admire and keep me company. I still want to give my neice a pair. I mean, how is keeping birds in a cage different from keepng fish in a tank? I need to sort this out.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Are You A Target?
I would describe myself as a mild-mannered, accommodating person. But this doesn't sit well with the Dark Side. Bro told of his recent encounters with taxi drivers where they try to overcharge him or give him attitude. That is, they want the fare, but they don't want to take him to where he's going.
I've had bad incidents with taxi drivers too where they stomp all over me and I still pay the fare. Once, I was in a hurry and flagged down a cab. The driver said, Do you mind if I just drop this package off first? It's on the way. Being the unsuspecting nice person, I said, Okay. He took me half an hour out of my way, so I was late for my meeting, and I still paid him full fare. I know, I was young and inexperienced.
But I think taxi drivers have gotten even more unruly lately. Aside from being dangerous drivers, they display open contempt for their passengers. I know some of them are qualified to do high-paying work, and it's a force of circumstances that have reduced them to driving cabs. But I am still paying the fare and their attitudes suck.
So now, when I am in a hurry and I have to get in a cab, I am not a nice person at all. I scowl, like I hate being in the cab, and I bark out where I'm going and tell the driver how to get there in a gruff way. I practise being bitchy before getting into a cab. As I walk down the street, I adjust my face, don that "don't fuck with me" look, stomp and slouch as if there is a cloud over my head. In short, from leaving my house and walking to the parking lot where cabs are parked, I transform from a friendly neighbour to hostile bomber. Touch me the wrong way and I blow up.
It really does take practice, because sometimes, you just don't feel bitchy. But I think I'm getting pretty good at it. I've at least perfected the evil eye look. That's the sneer and glare you give to other drivers or people on the street that says, "Lock eyes with me and you are cursed for life." It really keeps people from talking to you unneccessarily.
I've had bad incidents with taxi drivers too where they stomp all over me and I still pay the fare. Once, I was in a hurry and flagged down a cab. The driver said, Do you mind if I just drop this package off first? It's on the way. Being the unsuspecting nice person, I said, Okay. He took me half an hour out of my way, so I was late for my meeting, and I still paid him full fare. I know, I was young and inexperienced.
But I think taxi drivers have gotten even more unruly lately. Aside from being dangerous drivers, they display open contempt for their passengers. I know some of them are qualified to do high-paying work, and it's a force of circumstances that have reduced them to driving cabs. But I am still paying the fare and their attitudes suck.
So now, when I am in a hurry and I have to get in a cab, I am not a nice person at all. I scowl, like I hate being in the cab, and I bark out where I'm going and tell the driver how to get there in a gruff way. I practise being bitchy before getting into a cab. As I walk down the street, I adjust my face, don that "don't fuck with me" look, stomp and slouch as if there is a cloud over my head. In short, from leaving my house and walking to the parking lot where cabs are parked, I transform from a friendly neighbour to hostile bomber. Touch me the wrong way and I blow up.
It really does take practice, because sometimes, you just don't feel bitchy. But I think I'm getting pretty good at it. I've at least perfected the evil eye look. That's the sneer and glare you give to other drivers or people on the street that says, "Lock eyes with me and you are cursed for life." It really keeps people from talking to you unneccessarily.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Scoundrel
My god, tomorrow is the first day of Fall. I wondered when Fall was coming. It's been so cold. I left some cream out overnight, and this morning, the cream was still cold. Very glad I got heaters for the fish. Wondering now if I should turn the furnace on for us. O Canada, the land of two seasons - summer and winter.
We had our coffee party last night for our Candidate. The campaign organizers were right. 12 people come. I wonder why so many of them said they'd come and not show up. It was still great though. The relaxed home environment is certainly a good place to get to know a candidate better. And I got to meet some of the new neighbours who moved in this year. They raised interesting concerns, mostly about with parking in the hood and general right of way for cars in the city. I guess that's what stresses out people most in the city.
It's important that the street knows Candidate's been here to meet them in this format. Now she can knock on doors and make her presence felt twice. Our street supports her any way. In the last election, 50 households put up her sign. Only 2 went with the incumbent. Every time I hear Candidate talk, I like her more.
She knows about the issues in the hood and the politicking behind them. She's articulate, has a clear vision for the city, and has no self-interest, yet, in seeking office.
The Incumbent however, disappoints me more the more I learn about him. Without proper community consultation (he sent out notices to 10 houses so technically, he had a consultation), he asked city staff to do the leg work on the acquisition of the land and construction of a parking lot for a little business strip. When residents found out, we raised hell. The project would have cost over $3 million--$1.5 million to buy the building and land, $1.5 million to tear down the building and pave the land for a parking lot. All this to create 17 parking spots.
We signed a petition to stop the project. When he found out how strong the opposition was, he backed down and never put forth a motion for the project in council. Then he told the business owners they didn't get the parking spots because of the streetcar construction.
What I didn't know was because he had city staff work on the project, our ward had used up our alotted city staff time. The city can no longer give our ward any more time this year. It was lose-lose all around. This from a councillor who's been at city hall in various capacities for 17 years.
Well, the gossip is that he owns many properties under different names and business numbers. He's too busy managing his properties and trying to pass bylaws that benefit his buisness than do anything for the community.
Candidate needs to get in.
We had our coffee party last night for our Candidate. The campaign organizers were right. 12 people come. I wonder why so many of them said they'd come and not show up. It was still great though. The relaxed home environment is certainly a good place to get to know a candidate better. And I got to meet some of the new neighbours who moved in this year. They raised interesting concerns, mostly about with parking in the hood and general right of way for cars in the city. I guess that's what stresses out people most in the city.
It's important that the street knows Candidate's been here to meet them in this format. Now she can knock on doors and make her presence felt twice. Our street supports her any way. In the last election, 50 households put up her sign. Only 2 went with the incumbent. Every time I hear Candidate talk, I like her more.
She knows about the issues in the hood and the politicking behind them. She's articulate, has a clear vision for the city, and has no self-interest, yet, in seeking office.
The Incumbent however, disappoints me more the more I learn about him. Without proper community consultation (he sent out notices to 10 houses so technically, he had a consultation), he asked city staff to do the leg work on the acquisition of the land and construction of a parking lot for a little business strip. When residents found out, we raised hell. The project would have cost over $3 million--$1.5 million to buy the building and land, $1.5 million to tear down the building and pave the land for a parking lot. All this to create 17 parking spots.
We signed a petition to stop the project. When he found out how strong the opposition was, he backed down and never put forth a motion for the project in council. Then he told the business owners they didn't get the parking spots because of the streetcar construction.
What I didn't know was because he had city staff work on the project, our ward had used up our alotted city staff time. The city can no longer give our ward any more time this year. It was lose-lose all around. This from a councillor who's been at city hall in various capacities for 17 years.
Well, the gossip is that he owns many properties under different names and business numbers. He's too busy managing his properties and trying to pass bylaws that benefit his buisness than do anything for the community.
Candidate needs to get in.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Adventure With Bra
After lunch today, mom and I walked by a bra shop in a Chinese mall. She said,
"That's where your sister-in-law buys her bras. Bro's wife. She's been shopping there for five years. She was here just the other day and bought three bras."
"You shop for underwear with Bro's wife?"
"We happened to be here so she went in."
"Hey, 50% off. I could use a new bra." So we went in.
Immediately, a saleslady came up to me. In a flurry of Chinese, Chinglish and English, we had the following exchange.
"All the underwire bras are in this section. Choose one from here," said the saleslady.
"No, I don't like underwire."
"What? You should wear underwire. Given your size, you need underwire otherwise you're just wasting your money."
"My size?"
Another saleslady perked up and said, "Let her try on a 40."
"No, I'm 36, 38."
"Your bra doesn't fit you. Look how you droop your shoulders and back to accommodate your heavy bust."
"Well, I..."
"I bet your shoulders and back hurt."
"Yes, but..."
"You have stoopy shoulders. Bet your bra strap falls off all the time."
"True, I..."
"Try this on. It will lift your shoulders and straighten your back. You'll get better posture."
"But..."
"Don't talk. Try it on. And try this on, and this, and this. You should be careful to take care of your posture while you are still young. You must be approaching 40."
"More like 50..."
"Really? You will have problems with your back if you don't already," the saleslady poked and pinched me. "Have you ever given birth?"
"Yes."
"Wa. Not bad at all then. You are pretty firm for someone who's given birth. Just try these on, then talk. You'll feel the difference. I've been selling bras for over 20 years. Trust me, I know what works."
"But it's size 40."
"40D."
"I'm not a 40D."
"You have a broad back. Buy the bra that fits and not the size you wish you were."
So I tried a blue bra on. Amazingly, it fit and was comfortable. I could feel it hold me in place without being tight. I put my t-shirt over it.
"See, look how much straighter you stand already," said the saleslady.
There was my bosom, stacked skyhigh like I had a boob job.
"No, no. It looks totally unnatural," I said.
"No, when you walked in, you looked unnatural, all bent and stooped over, looking 10 years older than you are. Try this one and this," she waved two pieces of things at me.
So I tried on a black bra and a... I don't know...a corset, a backbrace? It's a vest like thing that has many hooks in the front. I put my t-shirt over these.
"Wa. Look how pulled back your shoulders are and how straight your back is. Now practise elevating your head from your shoulders to lengthen your neck."
Was she kidding? Was she in my pilates class last night? That's exactly what we did. But the incredible thing was that my shoulders and back stopped hurting right there. When I took the bra and body thing off, I wished I could put them back on.
"You wear these everyday for six months and your posture will improve. You need to make sure you don't turn into an old lady with a hump on your back."
No, I sure don't want that to happen.
"And these are 50% off right now. You get two bras and the body pieces for $115, no tax."
Wow. What a deal. So I bought them. They were formidable salesladies.
"That's where your sister-in-law buys her bras. Bro's wife. She's been shopping there for five years. She was here just the other day and bought three bras."
"You shop for underwear with Bro's wife?"
"We happened to be here so she went in."
"Hey, 50% off. I could use a new bra." So we went in.
Immediately, a saleslady came up to me. In a flurry of Chinese, Chinglish and English, we had the following exchange.
"All the underwire bras are in this section. Choose one from here," said the saleslady.
"No, I don't like underwire."
"What? You should wear underwire. Given your size, you need underwire otherwise you're just wasting your money."
"My size?"
Another saleslady perked up and said, "Let her try on a 40."
"No, I'm 36, 38."
"Your bra doesn't fit you. Look how you droop your shoulders and back to accommodate your heavy bust."
"Well, I..."
"I bet your shoulders and back hurt."
"Yes, but..."
"You have stoopy shoulders. Bet your bra strap falls off all the time."
"True, I..."
"Try this on. It will lift your shoulders and straighten your back. You'll get better posture."
"But..."
"Don't talk. Try it on. And try this on, and this, and this. You should be careful to take care of your posture while you are still young. You must be approaching 40."
"More like 50..."
"Really? You will have problems with your back if you don't already," the saleslady poked and pinched me. "Have you ever given birth?"
"Yes."
"Wa. Not bad at all then. You are pretty firm for someone who's given birth. Just try these on, then talk. You'll feel the difference. I've been selling bras for over 20 years. Trust me, I know what works."
"But it's size 40."
"40D."
"I'm not a 40D."
"You have a broad back. Buy the bra that fits and not the size you wish you were."
So I tried a blue bra on. Amazingly, it fit and was comfortable. I could feel it hold me in place without being tight. I put my t-shirt over it.
"See, look how much straighter you stand already," said the saleslady.
There was my bosom, stacked skyhigh like I had a boob job.
"No, no. It looks totally unnatural," I said.
"No, when you walked in, you looked unnatural, all bent and stooped over, looking 10 years older than you are. Try this one and this," she waved two pieces of things at me.
So I tried on a black bra and a... I don't know...a corset, a backbrace? It's a vest like thing that has many hooks in the front. I put my t-shirt over these.
"Wa. Look how pulled back your shoulders are and how straight your back is. Now practise elevating your head from your shoulders to lengthen your neck."
Was she kidding? Was she in my pilates class last night? That's exactly what we did. But the incredible thing was that my shoulders and back stopped hurting right there. When I took the bra and body thing off, I wished I could put them back on.
"You wear these everyday for six months and your posture will improve. You need to make sure you don't turn into an old lady with a hump on your back."
No, I sure don't want that to happen.
"And these are 50% off right now. You get two bras and the body pieces for $115, no tax."
Wow. What a deal. So I bought them. They were formidable salesladies.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Small Things
Every once in a while, I ask myself, Are you happy? Today, I answered, Yes.
I am happy because little things matter.
I love for example, the extension shed The Man has built me. I love the red metal roof he's put on it. The bicycles are hanging in it, the garden tools are in it, the main shed is no longer a mess.
I love the car bumper sticker that reads, My Other Car Is A Bicycle.
I feel satisfied today that I got air pumps for both fish tanks. In the small tank, the pump blows bubbles. It's a decorative thing, but it also adds more oxygen in the water for my plattys and mollys.
In the even smaller tank lives Hank. Hank is our new betta. I've been worried for days now the water in his tank is too cold now that the weather has chilled. Sure enough, it registered 70 when I put the thermometer in. I went to get a heater for it.
The first pet shop I went to told me heaters are expensive. It cost $50 for a 50 Watt tube. The shopkeeper said, You don't need a heater for a betta. They can live in room temperature. You can replace the betta five times for what you'd pay for the heater. Disposable fish? I am not that kind of person, but I didn't want to spend $50 on a heater.
So I came home and phoned another aquarium store. The owner has heaters that cost under $25. I went to pick one up. It is almost identical to the one that costs $50. Same tube idea, different brand. I also picked up an air pump to circulate the water.
I liked the bubbles created by the air pump so much, I got one for the plattys and mollys too. I had no idea how much I enjoy seeing bubbles in water. I like watching moving water.
I feel I had taken good care of my fish today, ensuring they have warmth and air. The betta now swims around more. The plattys and mollys play in the air bubbles. My worry about them has lifted and I am pleased with life.
Small things make me happy.
I am happy because little things matter.
I love for example, the extension shed The Man has built me. I love the red metal roof he's put on it. The bicycles are hanging in it, the garden tools are in it, the main shed is no longer a mess.
I love the car bumper sticker that reads, My Other Car Is A Bicycle.
I feel satisfied today that I got air pumps for both fish tanks. In the small tank, the pump blows bubbles. It's a decorative thing, but it also adds more oxygen in the water for my plattys and mollys.
In the even smaller tank lives Hank. Hank is our new betta. I've been worried for days now the water in his tank is too cold now that the weather has chilled. Sure enough, it registered 70 when I put the thermometer in. I went to get a heater for it.
The first pet shop I went to told me heaters are expensive. It cost $50 for a 50 Watt tube. The shopkeeper said, You don't need a heater for a betta. They can live in room temperature. You can replace the betta five times for what you'd pay for the heater. Disposable fish? I am not that kind of person, but I didn't want to spend $50 on a heater.
So I came home and phoned another aquarium store. The owner has heaters that cost under $25. I went to pick one up. It is almost identical to the one that costs $50. Same tube idea, different brand. I also picked up an air pump to circulate the water.
I liked the bubbles created by the air pump so much, I got one for the plattys and mollys too. I had no idea how much I enjoy seeing bubbles in water. I like watching moving water.
I feel I had taken good care of my fish today, ensuring they have warmth and air. The betta now swims around more. The plattys and mollys play in the air bubbles. My worry about them has lifted and I am pleased with life.
Small things make me happy.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Halloween Came Early
We took a walk through St. James Cemetery yesterday. It was a brilliant, warm afternoon. I have never been to this cemetery. I noted that the cemetery has no new burials. I saw no tombstone with a deceased date in the 21st century. The crowdedness of the graves reminded me just a bit of that cemetery in Paris where Jim Morrison is buried. Pere Lachaise, that's the cemetery.
As we walked along, a military helicopter hovered above. Before we knew it, a shiny black vintage Cadillac with sharp tail fins drove towards us. The driver was a middle-aged man with dark hair. He had a kind of ducktail hairdo. Yah, he could've been straight out of the 40's. We stepped aside to let the car pass. A few steps later, I turned to see it had stopped. I walked a few more steps. I turned again to see if the driver got out. But the car wasn't there any more.
The Man said it must have drove off. But so noiselessly, so suddenly and so fast?
The cemetery is a small one. All paths loop back to the same exit. We could see the exit from where we were. As we made our way towards it, I did not see the Cadillac come around the cemetery. Sure, it could have drove off to another site and stayed there, if you want to be practical about life.
But I don't think so, because I'm going to stick to my interpretation of life through my groovy shades.
As we walked along, a military helicopter hovered above. Before we knew it, a shiny black vintage Cadillac with sharp tail fins drove towards us. The driver was a middle-aged man with dark hair. He had a kind of ducktail hairdo. Yah, he could've been straight out of the 40's. We stepped aside to let the car pass. A few steps later, I turned to see it had stopped. I walked a few more steps. I turned again to see if the driver got out. But the car wasn't there any more.
The Man said it must have drove off. But so noiselessly, so suddenly and so fast?
The cemetery is a small one. All paths loop back to the same exit. We could see the exit from where we were. As we made our way towards it, I did not see the Cadillac come around the cemetery. Sure, it could have drove off to another site and stayed there, if you want to be practical about life.
But I don't think so, because I'm going to stick to my interpretation of life through my groovy shades.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Knock Knock
I knocked on every single door on my street yesterday, to hand deliver an invitation to a coffee party at my house to meet our candidate for city council.
Our street has about 110 houses. The amazing thing is, I know someone in every second house. The people I don't know moved here in the last year or so, or I really just don't know them despite having been neighbours for 20 years. But everyone was so friendly and so happy to receive my invitation, saying they will come. Which makes me worry about the size of the party next week.
The campaign organizer suggested that if we send out 100 flyers, we will probably get 5 or 6 people to come. If we are really lucky, we'd get up to 20. I'm thinking more like 60 people could come to the house over the two hours of the meet-and-greet. Gosh, on a warm summer evening, easily 10 people drop in to say hi.
Well, sure. They're neighbours after all. Why not have them visit me for such a good reason. I've promised cranberry muffins and coffee. I have to perfect my recipe for that and for chocolate chip cookies.
Good thing I won't be on my flush program next week.
Our street has about 110 houses. The amazing thing is, I know someone in every second house. The people I don't know moved here in the last year or so, or I really just don't know them despite having been neighbours for 20 years. But everyone was so friendly and so happy to receive my invitation, saying they will come. Which makes me worry about the size of the party next week.
The campaign organizer suggested that if we send out 100 flyers, we will probably get 5 or 6 people to come. If we are really lucky, we'd get up to 20. I'm thinking more like 60 people could come to the house over the two hours of the meet-and-greet. Gosh, on a warm summer evening, easily 10 people drop in to say hi.
Well, sure. They're neighbours after all. Why not have them visit me for such a good reason. I've promised cranberry muffins and coffee. I have to perfect my recipe for that and for chocolate chip cookies.
Good thing I won't be on my flush program next week.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Flush Or Lush?
I've lost 4 lbs so far on my fat flush. The regiment requires that I eat or drink vegetables almost every hour. Three times a day, I also eat a 3-oz serving of protein. I have not been religiously strict, demanding the occasional cookie or bite of dessert.
But that's just part of the adjustment and practice. Instead of downing two slices of pizza, I just had a nibble, instead of eating two big scoops of ice cream, I just have a spoonful. Last night, I made cranberry muffins and didn't eat any. I am so pleased with myself.
While on this flush, I am hungry a lot. Not starving. Just that little discomfort that makes you reach for chips while you make dinner. So now, I've learned to let this feeling pass or nibble on a carrot.
What I realize is, I reach out for junk food alot. I eat way more than I need at one sitting. In just a few days of being on this flush, my stomach has shrunk. When I went to dinner last night, I only had a single appetizer of sashimi. That's pure protein, a little more than I was allowed, but fits right in my flush plan. Amazingly, I was full on it. In dinners past, I would have followed with a main course and dessert, then waddled out the restaurant, complaining of being over-stuffed.
I am beginning to think maybe I'll stick to this kind of flush eating and abandon my lush ways. I mean, when I come off the flush, I can eat bread and sweets again, but not so often and not in such huge quantities. Right now anyway, I am thinking I'll stick to a relaxed flush plan till I lose 30 lbs.
I wonder if this is lunacy thinking driven by deprivation of nutrients to the brain.
But that's just part of the adjustment and practice. Instead of downing two slices of pizza, I just had a nibble, instead of eating two big scoops of ice cream, I just have a spoonful. Last night, I made cranberry muffins and didn't eat any. I am so pleased with myself.
While on this flush, I am hungry a lot. Not starving. Just that little discomfort that makes you reach for chips while you make dinner. So now, I've learned to let this feeling pass or nibble on a carrot.
What I realize is, I reach out for junk food alot. I eat way more than I need at one sitting. In just a few days of being on this flush, my stomach has shrunk. When I went to dinner last night, I only had a single appetizer of sashimi. That's pure protein, a little more than I was allowed, but fits right in my flush plan. Amazingly, I was full on it. In dinners past, I would have followed with a main course and dessert, then waddled out the restaurant, complaining of being over-stuffed.
I am beginning to think maybe I'll stick to this kind of flush eating and abandon my lush ways. I mean, when I come off the flush, I can eat bread and sweets again, but not so often and not in such huge quantities. Right now anyway, I am thinking I'll stick to a relaxed flush plan till I lose 30 lbs.
I wonder if this is lunacy thinking driven by deprivation of nutrients to the brain.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
The Dark Side
Two pictures of me emerged in my doctor's office this week.
The first is, I am driven by a desire to build a co-operative, harmonious community. I pick up the slack often because my desire to build this community is strong and I am nurturing by nature. I am disillusioned because I am the only one running on this plan. No one else is. After a while, I am worn out and feel defeated. My efforts have not borne fruit. My co-operative society does not exist. I am so disappointed and disillusioned I have withdrawn from activities that previously gave me my raison d'etre.
The second is, I carry a very dark side that I have been suppressing all these years. I don't let it out because I fear I won't be able to control it. My dark side is ruthless, cruel and insatiable. Because I sense the existence of this dark side, I compensate for it by choosing to do good work and doing more than my share in everything. So I do what I do because I don't want to be a bad person. I am exhausted by suppressing my dark side.
Then there is the rational me that's been walking around. I assumed we have our good and bad sides. As intelligent beings with a conscience, we are aware that we are aware of ourselves. We make choices all the time about how we behave and accept responsibility for the consequences of our behaviour. I do what I do because I choose to behave constructively.
Do these all point to the same thing? Choice and balance? But I tell ya, there hasn't been much balance. I feel my unexpressed dark side is debilitating me right now. It needs to come out. I call on its power to restore the balance. Muhahahaha.
The first is, I am driven by a desire to build a co-operative, harmonious community. I pick up the slack often because my desire to build this community is strong and I am nurturing by nature. I am disillusioned because I am the only one running on this plan. No one else is. After a while, I am worn out and feel defeated. My efforts have not borne fruit. My co-operative society does not exist. I am so disappointed and disillusioned I have withdrawn from activities that previously gave me my raison d'etre.
The second is, I carry a very dark side that I have been suppressing all these years. I don't let it out because I fear I won't be able to control it. My dark side is ruthless, cruel and insatiable. Because I sense the existence of this dark side, I compensate for it by choosing to do good work and doing more than my share in everything. So I do what I do because I don't want to be a bad person. I am exhausted by suppressing my dark side.
Then there is the rational me that's been walking around. I assumed we have our good and bad sides. As intelligent beings with a conscience, we are aware that we are aware of ourselves. We make choices all the time about how we behave and accept responsibility for the consequences of our behaviour. I do what I do because I choose to behave constructively.
Do these all point to the same thing? Choice and balance? But I tell ya, there hasn't been much balance. I feel my unexpressed dark side is debilitating me right now. It needs to come out. I call on its power to restore the balance. Muhahahaha.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Snapshot
As I sit here this morning, this is what's happening around me:
- Brad Pitt is in town. The Toronto International Film Festival is going fierce. Sounds like there are lots of good films coming out. I've not attended the festival for a few years now, because of its over-complicated ticket purchasing process and lineups. You line up to buy your passes, you line up in the passholders queue in front of the theatre, then you line up to get in. After all that lining up, if you don't like the movie, you don't really want to walk out. Though I am curious to see how much things have changed, now that the festival has become the most important film festival in the world, topping the one in Cannes, apparently. Maybe I'll just go wander around downtown to see if I can bump into Brad.
- The Canadian Opera Company is launching Wagner's Ring Cycle tonight. This week's seats are sold out, but you can still get stand up tickets for $75. I would like to see this one. Maybe that will be my Christmas present. Hey yeah, make The Boy come with me... you know, he may surprise me. He often does, by liking things I don't expect him to.
- The 5th anniversary of September 11 just passed. Condoleezza Rice is in Nova Scotia thanking, no, trying to score political points to ensure Canada stays in Afghanistan.
- Three bodies were found in the Chelsea Delta hotel yesterday. Possibly a murder-suicide. The Chelsea Delta. My first boyfriend used to stay at the Chelsea when he came to town. My best friend's boyfriend also stayed there when he came to see her. So long ago.
- Our local councillor is living with a friend, a fellow councillor, because he got a woman in his office pregnant and denies paternity so his wife booted him out. Since he's been living with the friend, he's starting to look more like the friend - they use the same tanning machines, wear similar kinds of clothes. And he dropped the ball on local concerns. The park at the end of our street got sold to developers and he is now making a fuss about saving the park. Why was he sleeping when the sale went through? Why didn't he make a motion for the city to buy the land when it went on sale? I really want to boot him out of office. Good thing I am hosting a party for my candidate next week.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Another Bloodbath
When we had our Manitoba Maple cut down, The Man insisted on leaving a stump of four feet sticking out of the ground, against my urging to cut the trunk close to its base. It's now six weeks later. He's decided the stump sticking out of the ground doesn't serve a purpose and is an eye sore.
He and Friend With Chain Saw went to work at removing the stump today. There is a massacred tree step where the stump used to be. Wood chips all over the yard like spilt blood from the tree.
We now have to get rid of the wood and I will not have a Fall planting season. I guess I'll cancel that Fall garden party I was going to have.
Is there a bright side to this?
One day, perhaps in the next few years, I will have a nice garden now that the garbage and dangerous growth is gone.
He and Friend With Chain Saw went to work at removing the stump today. There is a massacred tree step where the stump used to be. Wood chips all over the yard like spilt blood from the tree.
We now have to get rid of the wood and I will not have a Fall planting season. I guess I'll cancel that Fall garden party I was going to have.
Is there a bright side to this?
One day, perhaps in the next few years, I will have a nice garden now that the garbage and dangerous growth is gone.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Noisy Sight
While I'm overweight, I'm not obese. In fact, in photographs of me taken from certain angles, you wouldn't even think I was fat.
So I was loading groceries into my car this afternoon when I saw a woman chasing her shopping cart. She's a dyed blond (what are they always dyed blonds?). But what caught my attention was not her dark roots. It was her jiggling chest. They were huge, her round breasts. They jiggled, bounced, flapped, and knocked against each other, as she ran. I thought, Good god, woman, pull yourself together and rein the girls in.
I noticed she wasn't exactly fat either. Like me, she could shed a few pounds or thirty, and yes, in some circles, we'd be called voluptuous. But I'd never let my girls wander off each in her own direction all over her body.
She was a noisy sight.
So I was loading groceries into my car this afternoon when I saw a woman chasing her shopping cart. She's a dyed blond (what are they always dyed blonds?). But what caught my attention was not her dark roots. It was her jiggling chest. They were huge, her round breasts. They jiggled, bounced, flapped, and knocked against each other, as she ran. I thought, Good god, woman, pull yourself together and rein the girls in.
I noticed she wasn't exactly fat either. Like me, she could shed a few pounds or thirty, and yes, in some circles, we'd be called voluptuous. But I'd never let my girls wander off each in her own direction all over her body.
She was a noisy sight.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Fat Flush
I am detoxing. That is, a friend and I are doing a fat flush program to detox and cleanse our interiors.
As I sit here drinking my last coffee for the next ten days, I am trying to get in the mood for it. My goal is simply to feel better. It's been a terrible week as I had to finally admit my addiction to the video game, Luxor. You shoot little coloured balls into a chain of balls. Each time you hit a chain of two or mores balls of the same colour, you wipe out that section. The goal is to eliminate all the chains of coloured balls until you get to the next level. Mindless, stupid and addictive. The playing interferes with my days and nights.
I've done nothing but sit, eat and play the game. My body aches, I can barely walk, I feel bloated. I am reminded of that guy in Japan who played video games for 72 hours straight then died of a heart attack. He was 27. It took all of two days to get addicted to Luxor. I've only been playing for one week.
For the next ten days, I cut out all caffeine, sugar, carbs and bad fat. I drink lots of lemon water, a ginger-carrot-apple cocktail and eat lots of vegetables, lean protein three times a day. That's what I've reduced the flush to anyway.
The flush is good for people who keep trying to lose weight but see no results, if you are tired all the time, and if you suffer from colds and allergies all the time.
So I do my shopping today and weigh in tomorrow. Who knew I had an addictive personality.
As I sit here drinking my last coffee for the next ten days, I am trying to get in the mood for it. My goal is simply to feel better. It's been a terrible week as I had to finally admit my addiction to the video game, Luxor. You shoot little coloured balls into a chain of balls. Each time you hit a chain of two or mores balls of the same colour, you wipe out that section. The goal is to eliminate all the chains of coloured balls until you get to the next level. Mindless, stupid and addictive. The playing interferes with my days and nights.
I've done nothing but sit, eat and play the game. My body aches, I can barely walk, I feel bloated. I am reminded of that guy in Japan who played video games for 72 hours straight then died of a heart attack. He was 27. It took all of two days to get addicted to Luxor. I've only been playing for one week.
For the next ten days, I cut out all caffeine, sugar, carbs and bad fat. I drink lots of lemon water, a ginger-carrot-apple cocktail and eat lots of vegetables, lean protein three times a day. That's what I've reduced the flush to anyway.
The flush is good for people who keep trying to lose weight but see no results, if you are tired all the time, and if you suffer from colds and allergies all the time.
So I do my shopping today and weigh in tomorrow. Who knew I had an addictive personality.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
15 Minutes
Well, was that fun or what? The Boy got air time on Canada AM with Tyler the drummer of the Bare Naked Ladies.
The subway doesn't start running till 6 am. It meant I had to get up at 5 am with The Boy and Butterfly Boy to drive them to school as they had to be there by 6:15. The parking lot at school was full of cars. It's so strange to see so many car at the school when dawn is just breaking. Butterfly Boy's group sang at 7:00, The Boy's spot aired at 7:30.
It's only 9:30 right now. I've been up for four and a half hours. I'm more tired than I was last night when I went to bed.
The rain's coming! I need to go hibernate.
The subway doesn't start running till 6 am. It meant I had to get up at 5 am with The Boy and Butterfly Boy to drive them to school as they had to be there by 6:15. The parking lot at school was full of cars. It's so strange to see so many car at the school when dawn is just breaking. Butterfly Boy's group sang at 7:00, The Boy's spot aired at 7:30.
It's only 9:30 right now. I've been up for four and a half hours. I'm more tired than I was last night when I went to bed.
The rain's coming! I need to go hibernate.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Tough Love
I'm afraid The Boy's in my bad books right now.
He hasn't got his final report card from last year yet. Why? Because he owes the school $73 for lost text books. They won't give him his report card or the schedule for this year until he coughs up payment. I'm not paying for it. He can take it out of the cheque that's coming his way for a gig he did a few months ago.
He came home from music camp to tell us he's lost his retainer and his watch. This is the second retainer he's lost. We replaced one last year, at $300. I'm not replacing it this year. He will need to pay for it out of his voiceover gig.
And the watch? He has no idea what happened to it. One day, it just wasn't on his wrist any more. I don't wear a watch. Does he really need one? Good thing that voiceover gig can cover the watch, if he really wants one.
This is all on top of losing his knapsack at the end of June. How can you lose a whole knapsack? And losing his toilet kit half way through our vacation. He just didn't repack everything when we left our hotel.
He claims he has no money. Yet, he just came home with the second season of Lost. He could be borrowing from his friend, counting on the cheque that's coming his way. If I choose to go pick it up.
I'm so mad right now I am not replacing anything.
He hasn't got his final report card from last year yet. Why? Because he owes the school $73 for lost text books. They won't give him his report card or the schedule for this year until he coughs up payment. I'm not paying for it. He can take it out of the cheque that's coming his way for a gig he did a few months ago.
He came home from music camp to tell us he's lost his retainer and his watch. This is the second retainer he's lost. We replaced one last year, at $300. I'm not replacing it this year. He will need to pay for it out of his voiceover gig.
And the watch? He has no idea what happened to it. One day, it just wasn't on his wrist any more. I don't wear a watch. Does he really need one? Good thing that voiceover gig can cover the watch, if he really wants one.
This is all on top of losing his knapsack at the end of June. How can you lose a whole knapsack? And losing his toilet kit half way through our vacation. He just didn't repack everything when we left our hotel.
He claims he has no money. Yet, he just came home with the second season of Lost. He could be borrowing from his friend, counting on the cheque that's coming his way. If I choose to go pick it up.
I'm so mad right now I am not replacing anything.
I Did It
I finally committed myself. I signed up for a pilates class not too far from home.
The few times I've done a pilates class, I've enjoyed them tremendously. The last time I did one was in North Hatley, when I visited The Man's cousin. The instructor said in her quaint accented English, pilates requires you to centre your balance and energy in your gut, really good for keeping your internal plumbing in place.
My doctor did say I need to exercise the gut area to keep my uterus from falling out. And there is the incontinence issue.
But one of the determining factors in taking the class is that I went to Wonderland not too long ago. I attempted to climb a roped ladder. It looked so easy when the attendants skipped across it. When I tried, I fell over. It wasn't just that I was standing on ropes off the ground, I felt I had no control of my energy and balance.
Which is evidenced by how often I fall over when standing or sitting. For example, this weekend, I was at a friend's in Barrie. I sat down in a round chair to read. I leaned back and toppled over. Did a backward flip. I examined the chair after. It was solid and sturdy. There was no reason why I should have fell over.
On our vacation, we were waiting in line for something. The line finally moved a few inches. I took a step and fell to the ground. When I got up, I said to The Man, Was that embarrassing or what? Were you embarrassed? He said, I am more concerned about your safety. But The Boy mumbled, Yes, yes, yes, for a long time and stood away so people wouldn't think we're related. As if he doesn't look like me or we weren't wearing similar T-shirts.
I can't remember how many times I have fallen over when I am in Port Hope, or in my backyard, or when I have heels on. I can only blame external influences so much.
So. Pilates.
The few times I've done a pilates class, I've enjoyed them tremendously. The last time I did one was in North Hatley, when I visited The Man's cousin. The instructor said in her quaint accented English, pilates requires you to centre your balance and energy in your gut, really good for keeping your internal plumbing in place.
My doctor did say I need to exercise the gut area to keep my uterus from falling out. And there is the incontinence issue.
But one of the determining factors in taking the class is that I went to Wonderland not too long ago. I attempted to climb a roped ladder. It looked so easy when the attendants skipped across it. When I tried, I fell over. It wasn't just that I was standing on ropes off the ground, I felt I had no control of my energy and balance.
Which is evidenced by how often I fall over when standing or sitting. For example, this weekend, I was at a friend's in Barrie. I sat down in a round chair to read. I leaned back and toppled over. Did a backward flip. I examined the chair after. It was solid and sturdy. There was no reason why I should have fell over.
On our vacation, we were waiting in line for something. The line finally moved a few inches. I took a step and fell to the ground. When I got up, I said to The Man, Was that embarrassing or what? Were you embarrassed? He said, I am more concerned about your safety. But The Boy mumbled, Yes, yes, yes, for a long time and stood away so people wouldn't think we're related. As if he doesn't look like me or we weren't wearing similar T-shirts.
I can't remember how many times I have fallen over when I am in Port Hope, or in my backyard, or when I have heels on. I can only blame external influences so much.
So. Pilates.
Monday, September 04, 2006
What I Like
We had dinner with some friends at the house last week. It was a great evening. These were the things that made it wonderful:
- Everyone helped by bringing a portion of the dinner.
- I got to cook with a friend. I love doing that. Stay tuned for my community kitchen party, coming up in December, if I get my act together.
- The food somehow all went together, like we had God was on our side.
- Dinner was a colourful array, diverse shapes and textures of:
- blue corn chips with guacamole
- lemon-rosemary chicken skewers
- tilapia fillets with chili-lime butter
- barbecued corn with chipotle butter
- mango-red pepper salad
- buttered green beans
- honeyed carrot rounds
- boiled new potatoes with chipotle butter
- chocolate mouse cake
- All of our friends like cilantro.
- Dinner was a slow, relaxed affair that lasted from 6:30 to 11:30, on a week night! I am reading a book that praises Slow Food dinners, ones that start at 10:00 pm and lasts till 1:30 am. I am going to cultivate Slow Food dinners.
- We had an unexpected guest from France join us last minute, straight off the plane.
- One of our friends toasted to welcome our guest from France.
- We cleaned our house for the dinner!
- The coffee machine died right in the middle of a brew and we improvised to make coffee, just like camping. Today, we replaced this 15-year-old coffee maker. And I am even thinking of replacing our 20-year-old microwave oven.
- The women gathered in the garden after dinner. Just like in Victorian times or in the Middle East when men and women gather after dinner in separate rooms to do their own bonding.
- But most of all, I like my friends and enjoy their company. The Man said after, when he sees his friends, he wants to spend a whole week with them. I know exactly how he feels.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
I Don't Need No Stinkin' Agenda
Once upon a time, I was a structured, regulated person living to a schedule. I was lost without my daytimer, my thoughts were more cogent when I expressed them in Powerpoint, I always caught the details that everyone missed, I wondered if I shouldn't have become an accountant.
Then I stopped working. I missed the deep involvement in projects with people, I missed feeling like I was in control of my work, I missed mattering in a work environment.
But I also felt released, relieved, and realigned. Every time I thought of going back to work, my stomach does a flip and I dread the thought of having regulated days and being confined to a structure. I stopped wearing a watch. I hate details. I feel freer and more playful. I have a better sense of humour. I admit to mistakes without feeling my pride wounded. I feel freer.
Now, when someone tries to tell me what to do, I run like I saw a ghost. Because that person is the ghost of my structured past.
I have dealings with at least two people who require their time scheduled. They need to micro-manage people to feel in control. I have no real patience for them. One of them paid me the highest compliment recently by telling me I am not a detailed person.
How far I have come. And to think I could have turned out like that person upon once a time. Whew.
Then I stopped working. I missed the deep involvement in projects with people, I missed feeling like I was in control of my work, I missed mattering in a work environment.
But I also felt released, relieved, and realigned. Every time I thought of going back to work, my stomach does a flip and I dread the thought of having regulated days and being confined to a structure. I stopped wearing a watch. I hate details. I feel freer and more playful. I have a better sense of humour. I admit to mistakes without feeling my pride wounded. I feel freer.
Now, when someone tries to tell me what to do, I run like I saw a ghost. Because that person is the ghost of my structured past.
I have dealings with at least two people who require their time scheduled. They need to micro-manage people to feel in control. I have no real patience for them. One of them paid me the highest compliment recently by telling me I am not a detailed person.
How far I have come. And to think I could have turned out like that person upon once a time. Whew.
Friday, September 01, 2006
We Got Checked Out
The house next door is for sale. It's carried the For Sale sign for two months. When other homes on our street have been snatched up in frenzies of multiple offers within days of being on the market, this one just sits there. There was no open house, the current owners "fixed" it up before moving out. Fixed it? No, what I mean is they did work to get rid of the 30 plus years of filth and grime that couldn't be cleaned.
They replaced the kitchen cupboards, bathroom shelves, and put in a vinyl floor that looks like tiles, all over the first floor. Then they painted the walls. The darkness, odour, stains, crumbling walls, falling doors and other disrepairs of a hovel are gone now. But the house has no curb appeal. There was no fluff up to turn it into a show home. It is at best a functional, low-maintenance house.
This month, the owners lowered the price on the house.
A few people have come to look at it. I've seen two parties of viewers. What I saw is, not only are the people coming in to see the house, they walk around to our front yard, look over our house, and peer into our car! They were checking us out, as if we were part of the sale of the house.
Which is true of course. You gotta check out the neighbours. But I feel like asking for a cut of the proceeds. I feel like I'm being sold and should somehow benefit too. Unless we're the reason the house hasn't sold...
They replaced the kitchen cupboards, bathroom shelves, and put in a vinyl floor that looks like tiles, all over the first floor. Then they painted the walls. The darkness, odour, stains, crumbling walls, falling doors and other disrepairs of a hovel are gone now. But the house has no curb appeal. There was no fluff up to turn it into a show home. It is at best a functional, low-maintenance house.
This month, the owners lowered the price on the house.
A few people have come to look at it. I've seen two parties of viewers. What I saw is, not only are the people coming in to see the house, they walk around to our front yard, look over our house, and peer into our car! They were checking us out, as if we were part of the sale of the house.
Which is true of course. You gotta check out the neighbours. But I feel like asking for a cut of the proceeds. I feel like I'm being sold and should somehow benefit too. Unless we're the reason the house hasn't sold...
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