Category Archives: 2009
ch – ch – changes
For the next while you may see some odd things happening on this blog – bear with me – today I switched over to Blogger Beta, changed my template and will probably tinker , tinker, tinker until I’m happy with the new layout.
My apologies for pulling out the obvious David Bowie reference.
UPDATE: Apparently I’m going to have to upload all my links again, so my full reading list won’t be available for a while. Well, I knew there’d be a few kinks…
Side Effects of Summer # Something…
Have you ever stretched out a few hours work to fill a whole day because you just couldn’t get going?
If you said yes, you have company. Specifically, mine.
There’s something about summer heat that causes my mental hamster wheel to go from the hamster to sloth setting; all the faculties slow down, the connections take longer to make, and I feel like I’m missing the obvious. I hate that feeling, rail against it. I know I’m not the only one.
Railing won’t get the work done though, so really I ought to go back to the prose mines. The deadline looms.
At least I have company – the meowfia are feeling the heat all too well, and are lying prone in the tiny closet that is our computer room. I miss rain.
Heat 1, Cin 0
Brain-cells have melted. I’ve done my best to scoop them up, but it looks like it’ll be a while before they set again.
Rain Dance
Can I let you in on a little secret?
Yesterday when the clouds rolled in I got a little frisson of happy down my spine. By the time Lunchtruck and I got home from grocery shopping it was decidely overcast and the promise of rain had been upgraded from mere weather prediction to an earthy scent in the air. More frissons.
This morning I went to the balcony door and watched the rain spatter on the glass, drenching our baby calla plants.
I was smiling.
I know I’m not alone in loving Vancouver for it’s rainfall. There are many of us who thrive on it as much as the trees and undergrowth. In the summer months I pine; I miss the familiar sound of wheels on wet pavement, the sound of moisture-laden wind as it swoops through the trees, the clean, slightly earthy scent that rises after a good downpour. The only time I truly love summer is when I’m on vacation, preferably on Salt Spring Island at the forest house.
So here I am, thrilled it’s raining, and happily watching the decrease in time between sunrise and sunset each day. Am I nuts? Possibly. But I’m happy, and that’s a good start to my Wednesday.
Andre
It’s full light out, yet still cool enough for me to be glad of my sweater. A light breeze has decided to gambol down Granville, past the workmen at the construction site, over the dark-suited office workers and the pedestrians. The accessory of the day seems to be a paper-cupped bevvie from one of the local coffee shops.
Across the street from me the Granville Street skytrain station is releasing its captives, and there, with his guitar case and blankets, is one of our local street singers.
This morning he’s singing a modified-for-Canada version of the “City of New Orleans”. While it’s not in my top 10 by any stretch, it is one I can’t help but hum to when I hear it. My favourite part is the chorus:
Don’t you know me I’m your native son,
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
I like this man. He’s kind — you can see it in the set of his mouth and the crinkles round his eyes. I’ve yet to pass him on the street without getting a smile or a kind word. I don’t know anything about him except what’s written on the cardboard sign next to him, so there’s no sense of backstory, no shared history, nothing. I don’t even know if he is what he seems.
It doesn’t make a whit of difference. He’s made my morning that much better.
Update Your Blog, Redux
Him:
Update yout blog!
Me:
Bwahahahahahahah
OK
Later in the day….
Me:
Done. Are you happy now, your highness?
Him:
Only mildly – you have an audience, damnit. Cater to them.
Me:
oh dear – and here I was under the impression that the blog was mine. I don’t think my audience is all that big…
Him:
Then you should cater to me, since I read you every day.
Or every second day.
Or every week.
Whenever you decide to get off your ass and post.
Well. I’ve been told.
Update Your Blog!
Yup. That’s the message I got from Lunchtruck today. Apparently seeing the same darn post on there for so long is aggravating.
He lives with me. He’s in the loop. He KNOWS (probably more than he’d like to) what’s going on in my world. But he wants a post, and there’s nothing for it but for me to get off my heinie and say something interesting.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And that, right there, is what I’m dealing with.
A hundred different thoughts all vying for attention…
The languor brought on by the recent summer weather…
The wealth of minutae that’s demanding my attention Right This Moment…
It’s tough being the heroine of your own story. Dammit, I need an outline to work from.
Friday Silliness (But Sadly, No Felines)
So those of you who know me know I normally don’t post this sort of thing on my blog, but dammit, this may be the best version of this particular email I’ve seen in a while…
A meteorology professor stood before his Meteorology 101 class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty glass mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a jar of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open spaces between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar and of course the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous yes.
The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and then proceeded to pour the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the grains of sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things — your family, your partner, your health, your children, your friends, your favorite passions — things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
“The pebbles are the other things that matter, like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff.
“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. Play another 18.
“There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”
Nota Bene 