Montreal, je t'aime!

My Montreal trip is over and I'm already wondering how I can save enough money to visit again, maybe two years from now.

On Monday, the train from Toronto to Montreal was full and I was fortunate to sit next to a young Quebecois woman who was returning home. We chatted and the time on the train passed quickly. Attention: writers of romance - the young woman, who is bilingual and works for the provincial government, said that she doesn't enjoy 'fiction' and only reads romance, because it is 'soft' and relaxing. She also asked if I was gong to visit the Basilica (de Notre Dame) and said I really must see it. I have been there before but planned to see it again.

It was after 4 p.m. by the time I reached my hotel (damn the stairs in the Sherbrooke Metro station), so I walked over to Rue St. Denis and found a restaurant for an early dinner, because I was very hungry. Via Rail will sell you a 'snack' but I had not indulged.

On Tuesday, I went to the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts and saw some of the permanent exhibitions, plus the Frederic Black exhibition. I admit, I knew nothing about Frederic Black before this. Now, I own a 4 DVD set of his animated films. The Museum is housed in two buildings and when I went outside to cross the street and visit the second building, there was a gorgeous vintage white Bentley at the curb. It was adorned with white bows, but the bride and groom were absent. The driver, who stood beside the car, was happy to answer my questions. He also took a picture of me sitting in the car. Perhaps I should have tipped him, but I was besotted by the car and didn't think of it. Later in the day I visited a shop that sells tablecloths and fabrics from Provence and found present I hope my daughter will enjoy. A good dinner was certainly in order after all my walking and wandering. I found a Bistro that had modest prices, and good food.

On Wednesday, I visited the Botanical Gardens. It took over an hour just to tour the ten greenhouses. Then there are the many gardens. I could only visit a few of them before my feet protested. It was a very hot day - that's my excuse. I also visited the Insectarium, which was filled with children and quite noisy, but fun. There's a small train that takes you around the whole of the Botanical Gardens, including the huge arboretum area, and it's free, so I went along for the ride. By late afternoon, I had wilted, though the flowers had not, and I bypassed visiting the Olympic tower and returned to my hotel via the Metro. When it was time to go out for dinner, I walked up St. Denis and eventually settled on another Bistro. This time, I was very lucky, the food was fabulous, the service was excellent, and the price was not as high as I had expected, though it certainly wasn't cheap. No matter - it was worth it!

Thursday was my last full day and I went to Old Montreal and revisited the Basilica de Notre Dame. After that, I needed a coffee, but not a six dollar coffee. I found a Starbucks. I was walking down toward the Port area when I came upon the Maison de Mere d'Youville. It was not in my guidebook, and it doesn't look as if it is open to the public. Still, I tried the door. It opened into a small office area but I could see antique furniture, and stone floors to one side. The receptionist spoke to me in French and asked if I would like a tour. When I replied 'yes,' she said if I would wait a few minutes she would furnish me with a guide who spoke English. An excited young woman soon arrived and gave me a personal tour. It lasted over an hour and the guide provided fascinating information. The Maison is on the site of the first Montreal Hospital, started by a group of religious 'brothers'. They helped the poor and sick men of Montreal in the 1700's. Eventually, they were unable to maintain the hospital. Then Marguerite d'Youville and a small group of women (they became the grey nuns) took it over, repaired it and helped as many of the poor and suffering people as they could - men, women and children. Would you believe they even took in prostitutes and abandoned babies? There is much more to the history, of course, and I am fascinated by the profound courage of Marguerite and the women who worked with her.

After a bit of shopping it was time for dinner and I returned to the Bistro I had enjoyed on Wednesday. It was a wise decision.

Friday, I returned home and I'm happy to be here. I missed out on Montreal Smoked Meat and Fairmont bagels; therefore, I'll have to go back, won't I?

Ready, Set, Go! The Value of Writing LIsts

I leave for Montreal very early on Monday morning and will return on Friday evening. Before I go, I'll spend time with the Viking. Maybe we will go to some Blues Festival events, if the weather isn't miserable. There are lots of things I'd like to do and places I'd like to visit while I'm in Montreal, but I'm not making a list and will decide on my itinerary based on the weather, and my energy level, and how my knees hold out. (That reminds me - I need to look for a gentle exercise class when I return.) In any event, if it rains on Tuesday, I'll make that my museum visit day. Packing will take place the night before I leave, but I do know what's going into the suitcase.

It's wonderful to get out of town, even if it might be 'dangerous'. That's the word a neighbour used when I said I was going to Montreal, alone. She also said, "you're brave." Either I look older and more fragile than I am, or she was worried about Montreal drivers who have a reputation for running into pedestrians. I assured her I would be careful, and indeed, I will. I also plan to enjoy the city and all that it offers. Old Montreal, the museums, the food, the unique atmosphere, the elan of les Quebecois , and did I mention? - the food - seafood, tortiere, bagels, Montreal smoked meat, and whatever else appeals to me. I'd better do a LOT of walking, or I'll return thicker rather than thinner, but if the universe is kind, that won't matter, because I'll have had a marvellous, memorable time.

Going on a trip gives me the opportunity to do a 'restart' when I return. That's why I have a two writing lists posted where I can see them. The first one shows all of my short stories, the magazines they've been sent to in the past - and of course the results. The second list, which I composed this morning, shows the stories that need to be sent out again. A while back, in late spring, I made a similar list (stories to send out), posted it up where I could see it and it worked. I sent those stories out. Then there were multiple crises, including some I can't mention in my blog, and I admit, I had great difficulty in focusing on anything but the troubles. But now, ah now, I have a new list and it is posted on my wonderful new-to-me very large, cork bulletin board. It's a double-sided board and notes for my novel are on the other side. I've been thinking a lot about 'Jennie Carriere' and I'm sure my visit to Montreal will help me with that, too.

Montreal, Jane Austen, and Other Topics

Thanks to Via Rail's temporary price reduction of train tickets, I will be going to Montreal for five days. I can hardly wait to visit one of my favourite cities. There's no doubt that I'll be immediately recognized as a tourist, since my clothing lacks style, I'll have to wear my running shoes, and my smattering of high school French may prove incomprehensible; nevertheless, I know I'll have an excellent time. There are many places I'd like to visit while I'm in the city so I went to the library to get a Montreal Guide. There was only one available - all the others were already on loan to other patrons. Perhaps Montreal is being inundated with les maudits anglais this summer. If so, then I hope Montrealers are still as tolerant as they were on my previous visits.

Before this unexpected opportunity arrived, I had been moping and reading, and fretting of course, as I often do when the Muse takes her leave. I recommend Carol Shield's short biography of Jane Austen, published by Penguin (2001) as part of the Penguin Lives series. If you are a writer, you will appreciate Shield's perceptive comments on writing and on the nature of a writer's life even if you don't like, or haven't read Jane Austen's novels. Though if you do know Jane's work, you will get even more from this book. Carol Shields writes clearly and without any academic frou frou.

And speaking of books and writers, my friend and fellow writer, Jennifer Ross' story, "The Colonial and the Cottontail" is now available in the Northern Roses, Southern Belles Civil War Anthology published by Wild Rose Press. The book is available through Amazon. I had the pleasure of reading and commenting on earlier versions of this story and am happy it has been published.

Now, I need to make a list of things to take on my trip, and of course paper and pens will be at the top, although usually I don't write much when I'm away from my home. Instead, I often get a new perspective on what I need to write, when I return. I hope that happens again, and I'll let you know if it does.

The Emergency Department Adventure and The News from Calgary

Last night, I had the opportunity to see how the Emergency Department at St. Mary's hospital handles patients who are not bleeding but may be at serious risk. I accompanied The Viking to the hospital because his blood pressure was very high, and had been very high for over two days His bp was checked (still very high) and he was admitted to Emergency. Then we waited, behind curtain number 4, for three hours. There was only one doctor on duty and we did not see him, or her. After three hours of waiting, I asked if The Viking's blood pressure could be checked again. A nurse did that, and fortunately the b/p had come down close to what is normal for The Viking. So, he decided he might as well go home. Of course he had to sign an agreement saying that he was leaving without seeing a doctor.

All is well this morning, but I do wonder about a couple of things. If I hadn't been with the Viking, would they have checked on him sooner? Did staff expect that because someone was with him, that someone would inform them if there was a change that required their attention? I do know the signs of a stroke, but the staff at the hospital knew nothing about me. I am glad The Viking agreed to go to the hospital, though he is not sure he would do it again, given the care he didn't receive.

In other news, my friend Lori Hahnel, will be the Calgary Canadian Author's Association's Writer in Residence starting in September -- and her novel, Love Minus Zero has been nominated for a Calgary Public Library Literary Award. I'm thrilled for her, on both counts.

As for my writing, I had an encounter with the black dog, but have survived it and am doing a bit of work. That is also good.

How Teenagers Think

As some of you know, I am the grandmother of two teenage boys. At times, it is an onerous task, at other times there is joy. Most times, there is confusion, my confusion that is. I'm quite sure that behind the volume of meticulously straightened hair which conceals the faces of F and S (my grandsons) there is a computer interface which automatically selects certain responses to information received from adults.

I can provide proof. A reconstructed conversation with S.

Me: When are you going to cut the lawn?
S: screen shows - No Signal
Me: Are you ever coming out of your room?
S: screen shows - No Signal

Thirty minutes later.
Me: You'd better cut the lawn, or else, when Mom and dad get home they'll be pissed off.
S. screen shows - blah blah blah, or else blah blah blah pissed off. Level 1 response required. Select a) yeah, okay, or b) yeah, in a few minutes.
S. responds Yeah, In a few minutes.

Thirty minutes later.
Me: Do it now, S!
S. screen shows - Now! High voice volume requires immediate response.
S. emerges from room for the first time in 18 hours and cuts the lawn, then returns to room and adjusts his internal computer screen to inactive listening mode.

Two hours pass.
Me: downstairs, in conversation with grandad and a long way from S.'s bedroom. - I hear there might be ice cream cake for Sam's birthday and that his present will be an Ipod touch gadget.
S. screen shows - blah blah blah ice cream cake, blah blah, present, blah blah Ipod. Bingo! Immediate response required!
S. emerges from his bedroom again. Yes, folks, it's a record, and says Hi - is there cake?

Dont Mess With My Morning Routine

Yesterday was my birthday, number 65 plus one, and it was a mostly quiet day. My daughter took me out for lunch, then the Viking came over for tea and hugs after supper. I was quite content to have a low key celebration. partly because my foot was throbbing, and partly because so much has been happening to people I love that I needed some down time. Life has been way too eventful, but not in a good way, over the last few weeks. I may be wild and crazy sometimes, but on weekday mornings, I need - crave my routine. When it's interrupted things go awry, as they did on Wednesday morning.

I like to start my morning with coffee. All right then, I can hear the laughter- I need to start my morning with two cups of coffee. One starts the right ventricle and one starts the left. That's the rule. I have a wonderful new coffee maker, and right after I brush my teeth, etc. and turn on the computer, which needs time to load all it's functions, I fill the machine and start it. While the coffee brews, I open or close the windows depending on what the weather looks like. When the coffee is ready I take my cup to my desk, log on to the Internet and check my email. Doesn't everybody who writes do this first thing in the morning? There could be good news just waiting to be found and enjoyed.

But Wednesday morning, before I could pour out my coffee, the phone rang. In my un-coffeed state, I rushed to answer it. I'm not spatially deft before coffee and I failed to get completely around one of the living room chairs. I whacked two of the smallest toes on my right foot and limped over to the phone. Of course it was a wrong number. I promise myself, I won't rush to catch a phone call again. I'd like change other parts of my morning routine, but I'm not sure I can. I might be able to resist checking what's new with my friends who post on facebook, and I might be able to stop reading the morning headlines on the CBC website and the Maclean's magazine blogs. Those are the things I do before I write or revise, if I write or revise anything. But I'm not giving up coffee.

It's time to ice my toes.

Baby Steps

I've stayed close to the telephone for what seemed like eons as I waited for news about my brother's health crisis. From the moment I first heard his diagnosis, it's been hard to focus on anything else. I spent lots of time on the Internet, researching his condition, and the options, and the possible outcomes. I also spent lots of time sending him energy, and visualizing better health for him. While all this was going on, (and is going on) three rejections of my work came in. They all arrived on Mondays. That didn't help me at all. But this week, I revised one of the stories that had been rejected and sent it out again. A baby step for sure, but at least I did something. Also, a story continues to ferment in my wee brain and I hope I'll soon be able to work on it.

Yesterday afternoon, I received news that my brother has improved after a horrendous Wednesday night . It's a tiny step forward, and a wobbly one, but I'm hugely thankful for any progress. Likely, I will visit him next week , if he is moved from intensive care to regular care. My sister-in-law tells me that given the massive amount of surgery he has undergone other setbacks may occur, but we are all more hopeful now.

I plan to visit John next week, if he is moved out of intensive care and into a regular room. At first, I thought I'd take the train, but it only goes to Windsor once a day and doesn't arrive till after 11 p.m., so I'll take the Greyhound bus instead. Thanks to everyone for your positive thoughts and prayers.

To end this on a very positive note, I'll mention that my friend, Lori Hahnel, has a short story collection coming out this fall. I highly recommend it and I know what I'm talking about. I've read most of the stories.You can read the blurb and pre-order it here:

http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/35/search?sc=Lori+Hahnel&sf=Author&pticket=e2q3w3zcotsmuae4fcildpfiAeysXgNEAsDFD%2fzBSl9kATAQ9HU%3d

Family News and the View from my Windows

On Wednesday my daughter and I visited my brother in Tilbury. His grown children were also home that day. It was good to reconnect after such a long time.

This morning, my brother informed me that he will have his very major surgery a week from today, if nothing changes between now and the scheduled date. I'm glad it will be soon because, the sooner it's done the better his chances may be. I hope for the best possible outcome.

In the midst of all this, I'm comforted by what I can see through my living room windows. Verdant green tree tops, blue sky today, and part of the bell tower on the lovely stone church just south of here on Queen Street.

It's time to go for a walk and think healing thoughts.

Brief Update

This may be the last blog entry for a while. Earlier this week, I learned that my brother is facing a health crisis and now that I have more details, I have plans to make. I hope to visit him very soon, once I find a way to get to his small town which is not on a bus or train route. It will be a short visit, a few hours, but I expect there will be more trips in the near future.

There's no writing news, and no writing taking place, for now. I hope to post better news soon.Until then, enjoy the spring and - carpe diem!

When Writers Read

Our local library sponsors a writers' collective and this week, some members of the collective participated in a public reading of their work. The event was promoted in the library's magazine, In Touch, which is available free at all the libraries in the system and online. Most of the people who attended, including me, had some connection with the writers. However, at least some folk attended out of curiosity. You know the kind - what do those fiction writer critters look like in real life, and what do they produce? And, I bet I could do it better, if I had time.

I spoke with one such person after the reading, well, really, she accosted me. I guess she needed someone to hear her opinion and I was a slow moving target.

"Wasn't (name omitted) awful?" She asked.

"Some writers have trouble presenting their work," I replied.

That didn't satisfy her and she went to to say a few more uncomplimentary things. (I don't personally know the writer she was referring to, but felt I had to defend the writer, even though I partly agreed with the criticism.)

"Every one's taste is different," I said. Yeah, that was lame, but it did end the conversation, or else it ended because we were at the front door by then.

On the way home, I thought about the encounter a bit more. Not every writer is good at reading aloud in front of a group. It's not an easy thing to do. Some people have a flair for the dramatic and can make prose that wouldn't impress me a great deal if I was reading it on the page, sound more interesting that it truly is. It's good to have that talent because these days, published writers have to do more promotion than ever. The ability to put on a decent dog and pony show helps sales. It's hard for most writers though, or so I imagine. I do know it was difficult for me, and I've only done it once, so far. The audience I spoke to had paid to hear the writers spout off on different topics they claimed to know something about and read from their work. It was more than a little bit terrifying. Would they like my words or hate them? Would they throw things? Would they slink away and say nothing at all? Fortunately, terror helped me do a reasonable job. I'm sure that isn't the case for every writer and I have no idea whether I will be able to do it again, if the opportunity arises.

It's often hard to be one of them thar fiction writer critters. We're strange. We have egos that expand and shrink on a regular basis, maybe with the cycles of the moon, maybe not. We know everyone has a story but not everyone has a compulsion to tell stories. One is calling for me now. I'd better go and write it.

Lost Logic. Reset, Reset

When I visit my friend, The Bear, at his retirement residence we often listen to music on compact discs. He has a marvellous CD player with great sound. It's much like the Bose player, but was somewhat less expensive. It also has a remote control. After a year of use, the battery in the remote control died. When I replaced it and tried to use the CD player, it wouldn't work. I couldn't discover what was wrong with it although I read the owner's manual. Have I said I'm technically inept before? Well, I still am. We had to wait until The Viking could arrange to look at it because he couldn't diagnose the problem over the phone. It took all of 10 seconds to fix it. He unplugged it, plugged it in again and hey presto! - it worked. The device had lost its logic, but regained it after it was restarted. If only I could reset my logic so easily.

Mostly, I think of myself as a reasonably logical person, but there are times when I'm not. Almost always, those times are connected with critiques of my writing. I can and do, fail to hear the 'good stuff." in fact, very recently I received a critique from ye Canlit star and the list of "the good stuff'' had to be repeated before I could manage to hear it. But, I seldom have a problem hearing and magnifying any faults that are pointed out to me.

Maybe I'm like this because praise was only doled out in infrequent and minuscule amounts during my early childhood and when it was meted out, a caveat inevitably appeared in the same sentence. That rule was scrupulously followed in order to ward off something - bad Karma, evil spirits, an inflated ego, or so I assume.

It's evident I need a reset button. Luckily, I can imagine I have one. There, I've pressed it. Now it's time to go back to work.

Spring Fever. The Writing Round-up

Earlier this month, I posted a list of writing tasks on the large piece of styrofoam that is my cheap alternative to a real bulletin board. I stare at it every morning and finally, about two weeks ago, I started to work on it in earnest. May is almost here and many literary magazines do not accept submissions in the summer time.

So, in a burst of energy, and/or desperation, I chose four of the stories on the list, they were ones I had revised again. I gave them a final polish and sent them out. It's good to have things back out on the road.

I also drafted and revised an essay and submitted it to my favourite website because it was too long for all the magazines I investigated.

If the birds don't wake me up at 5:30, I hope to sleep in tomorrow. I haven't completed the whole list, but there are still a few days left in the month.

The round-up will continue in a day or two, if I still have spring writing fever and I hope I will.

Writing and Self-Confidence

I was thinking about writing the other day. Actually, I do quite a lot of thinking about writing, as opposed to actually getting down to work and writing. Anyway, I find that my confidence level is extremely variable.

I'm seldom happy with a first draft but by the time I finish a third draft, or somewhere in that vicinity, I think what I have is really good. If I'm feeling brave, I send it out. Yay for me and all that. By the time I get the rejection - which might be six months later - and look at the piece again, all I can see are the flaws, and there are always lots to see. I'll sneak in a music reference here. I might see the third or fourth draft as a symphony, or, at the very least, a good sonata, when I send it out. Then later (after those six months pass) when I have to look at again, it appears to be a very trite and unsaleable pop song.

It's hard to deal with these fluctuations in confidence. I hope I'm learning to be somewhat more objective. In some ways, I think I've progressed as a writer. I have learned its a long process and I have gained at least a little objectivity about my work. That's a continuing struggle though - as it probably is for everyone else who writes.

Perhaps a bit of early success temporarily spoiled me. It's all a balancing act. Nothing I write will ever be anywhere near perfect. I'm extremely aware of that but I also have to maintain a reasonable amount of belief in what I do, and be able to hear criticism and not cringe, and be able to sort out the just criticism from the less-than-just criticism. I'm working on that. I'll probably always have to work on that.

And speaking of work, I better get back to the fourth draft of one of my short stories.

The Almost List, and A Few Other Things

A number of things are almost done, or almost ready to be started. The renovation of my daughter's kitchen is almost finished and probably will be complete sometime next week. That means it's almost time for the cat to go home. The Viking is almost ready for the movers and they will arrive on Tuesday. It's almost time for school spring break. And finally, it's almost time to go back to work on the novel.

The other things -

My daughter and son-in-law's company participates a number of good things and this is one of them.

http://re-nourish.blogspot.com/2009/03/update-from-team-3-week-2.html

The mysterious appearance and disappearance of a large picture,which hung in the corridor outside my apartment has not been solved. A smaller painting is now sitting on the floor in the corridor and no one knows where it came from. It is a mild and unobjectionable painting so perhaps in due course, it will hang on the wall somewhere. Either that, or it too will disappear.

And speaking of mysterious disappearances, I may have mentioned that my hairdresser disappeared. I really hate having to find another one. Soon it will be too warm to wear a hat so I must take action and risk trying someone new.

And last, but definitely far from least, I must mention the mystery novelist I enjoyed. Jane Haddam has written 17 Gregor Demarkian novels. I've read two of the later ones in the series -Somebody Else's Music and Glass Houses (St. Martin's Press) - and enjoyed them. Gregor, the protagonist used to head the FBI Behavioural Services Unit, but don't let that put you off. He's fascinating and so is the woman in his life, Bennis. I could read a whole novel about them without the mystery element, though I'm quite glad to have that as well. Jane Haddam is not afraid to write long paragraphs that contain reflections, observations, and detailed place descriptions and she's able to do that without detracting from the plot. Maybe I admire that a lot because it's something I need to work on in my own writing. I plan to read more of them and hope that the library has all the books in the series.

Oh, and one more almost. It's almost spring.

Behoodled and Befuzzed

Things get stranger by the day.. My struggle with the Canada Revenue Agency continues and I will spare you the ugly details. I'm behoodled. That word isn't in my Canadian Oxford Dictionary and I had never heard it until a couple of days ago when The Viking used it. I think it's probably a localism (if that's a word) and according to The Viking, his mother used it to describe being confused or befuddled.

The word would also apply to my daughter's lawn care company's situation - and all the other lawn care companies in Ontario. The new rules governing pesticide use come into force on Earth Day, but were not published until late yesterday. Of course lawn care businesses had to order their supplies well before the information came out so it was like playing roulette, only the odds were even worse than spinning the wheel. The most confusing thing is that golf courses CAN use pesticides. They must have lobbied pretty hard to achieve that.

While I'm on the subject of words, I'll mention befuzzed. I haven't found it in my dictionary, though it could exist somewhere. Anyway, I rather like it. My carpet is befuzzed - it catches Dopeycat's very fine, almost invisible hairs and holds them. Even the bathtub is befuzzed in the morning because Dopey goes in there when I'm asleep. My clothes are befuzzed and my mind is too. At least everything matches.

Two Word Answers to Those Pesky Questions

I've discovered some new-to-me ways to deal with questions I don't want to answer. This may or may not be useful information for anyone else, but it works for me.

There are a only few people who know that I am working on a novel. Unfortunately, two of those people are neighbours of mine. One is a very sweet teacher who happened to notice me at a writers' workshop a couple of years ago and asks about my work every time she sees me. The second person is a retired man who only asks me about my progress after he has imbibed fortifying liquids in large quantities. When they ask 'how's it going?" I used to mumble and stumble through an explanation. I've given that up and have decided use - "can't say" or "no comment." I think the no comment thing could add mystery so I'll try that one out.

The other pesky question I encounter with some frequency is "why not?" As in: Why not buy a subscription to this magazine for only $15.95? Why not donate to this charity again? Why not have your carpets cleaned? - We'll give you a discount. I used to reply "no thanks" but they would keep on talking unless I hung up. So, now I take a different approach. When the "why not" question arises, I say, "I'm broke." I'm happy to report that this works quite well. I've even received apologies, though I assume they are only offered by callers who are new at telemarketing. I wonder if it works because it's different, or because hardly anyone wants to use those words. So far, no one has asked me what I mean by broke, but I do have a personal definition.

Broke means that by the end of the month I have spent all the money received in the previous month, and sometimes a bit more. It's not a technically correct definition, but so what.

And speaking of 'so what,' that might be a handy phrase to use when I visit my always grumpy friend this afternoon. He tends to raise minor complaints to major heights. I likely won't do it, but I know I will be tempted.

Back on the Fiction Track

It's good to be back in fiction writing mode. I began to wonder if it would ever happen again. In any event, a story came to mind a few days ago. I wasn't sure how to end it but the ending came to me out of the blue yesterday afternoon. I'd had one idea but then a second idea took over more or less in spite of me. I forgot to eat supper until about 7:30, normally I try to eat between 5 and 6:30, but I'm sure it didn't hurt to wait. I hope I'll still like the story after a few days have passed.

My feline editor has stopped trying to retype every word for me. He's been distracted by the smells that come through the window. The grass is emerging from under its snow blanket and the birds and squirrels are busy. I'm pleased that I can see some green, but of course, N. is not. She is super-stressed at the moment. It's always that way as spring approaches. This year there are added complications, what with renovations underway, the need to get ready to go to Mexico on Monday, and the continuing uncertainty about the pesticide laws and issues. I hope it all works out.

In other news, the Viking and I will have the pleasure of attending a birthday party in Toronto on Sunday afternoon . It's for a close friend who will be celebrating the end of one decade and the beginning of another. I'll l also see friends I haven't seen in eons.

It's also been good to see my words online. Okay, so it's not a huge deal , but it's something and I needed the boost. It gave me some energy.

Looking at this link also sometimes cheers me. I usually check it every other week or so to see if there is new addition.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/series/writersrooms

Nap Prevention News and How to Kill Appliances

The guest cat is now ensconced at my place and has taken over. Dopey is very dog-like. He follows me wherever I go and demands to be petted. He also likes to supervise everything. I had cat assistance whilst writing a letter to the editor and so it took twice as long to complete. But never mind - I wrote it this morning and The Record called before noon. So, they may publish it, after they chop it. (I hope they don't take out the reference to the evils committed by the Harris government, but I'm not betting money on that, or on the letter seeing print either.)

I thought I'd take a nap this afternoon, but apparently, only the cat is allowed to take naps in the afternoon - and the evening - and the late morning. The naps are required so that he can wake me in the middle of the night by pouncing on my feet. I had forgotten that cats love to do that.

I have a talent which can be loaned out for a price. I kill appliances and I can manage to do it quickly. I was given two humidifiers at Christmas time. One lasted three days. I'm told that my water caused it to die, but I used filtered water so I must have jinxed it just by looking at it. The second one is so noisy that I can't sleep when it's on. It's not supposed to be so loud and probably it wouldn't be, if it was owned by someone else. I've returned to using my old vaporizer. There is also a problem with my coffee maker. I cracked the carafe (which was made of thin glass, honest). Then I bought a replacement carafe which was supposed to fit all coffee makers of the same brand. It doesn't. My computer printer had a conniption the other day and only agreed to operate properly after it was turned on and off several times. Perhaps I've neglected it and, like the cat, it needed constant attention. There has been a persistent rumour that I might receive a flat screen television sometime this year. I'm afraid that if I do, something strange will happen to it.

I am happy to report that my twenty-five year old stereo still works. Maybe I should acquire only used appliances. I'll have to think about that.

Meanwhile, at my daughter's house, all the appliances have been removed from her kitchen and she reports that there's nothing like the smell of cupboards being sawed apart in the early morning. I agree with that.

Welcome to 2009

I hope the new year will bring good things to all of you.

As for me, I'm going to run away from home on a regular basis. First, I'm taking a mini-vacation out of town. After I get back and get more organized (okay, try to get more organized), I plan to spend at least a couple of afternoons each week at the library. They have large tables there and I can spread out my opus and make notes on index cards, research some things that I need more information on and so forth. This plan will keep me away from the Internet - one of the main time wasters in my life - and far from telemarketers and other nuisances. I think It will help me to focus.

But before I can set it in motion, I have to prepare for a few things, including the arrival of a cat. Since my daughter's kitchen will undergo a massive renovation beginning in late January, her cats need temporary shelter. I have volunteered to keep Dopey for a while. I like Dopey. He's smart and laid back and I'm sure we will get along. He has big hair though - in fact most of him is hair. I'll have to lay in a supply of tissue since I'm bound to sneeze a lot.

I've made lots of resolutions for 2009, but in the end they boil down to one, to be more disciplined and write regularly. I'll let you know how that works out.

After Christmas

Christmas is over for another year. Everything winds down quickly, for me anyway, after The Day. I was tempted to follow my daughter's Boxing Day tradition and wear my pajamas all day, but I needed to go out for a little while. I did wear my new cozy robe until about 11 a.m. and was deliciously lazy.

I may have a turkey hangover. Or it could be that I'm suffering from the now-I-have-to-get-back-to-work syndrome. Yes, that's likely it. You see, I have this new chair. I have 500 sheets of paper and I have envelopes too. I need to consolidate Jennie into one document, find out how long it is, and start revising again. But I also have a wonderful book I'm savouring - The Time Traveller's Wife. And just when I thought I'd have no more excuses, The Viking called a moment ago and he will be here tomorrow. My holiday is not over yet after all.

'Twas the Week before Christmas

Christmas is not quite here, but already the Viking Santa has brought presents. There's a dandy new humidifier that does a much better job than my wee vaporizer could and then there's The Chair. Not just any chair, but a black leather high-backed every-which-way adjustable swivel chair, with arms. "A chair fit for a writer," the Viking said. And it is.

A Weird Start to December

I don't know about you, but I'll certainly remember this week. It sure was weird. Many of us, --well I was anyway-- were glued to the news as our Parliamentarians bashed each other, and the nation. I'm disappointed with almost every darn one of them, and with a lot of my fellow Canadians too. It's not over of course. My Christmas wish is for an end to the divisiveness that's still being actively promoted.

In other, and also weird news, the government in it's great wisdom (yes, that's sarcasm) has decided that I am not eligible for the Guaranteed Income Supplement because I took a one-time lump-sum amount out of my RRSP in 2007 . I declared the income on my tax return and income tax had been deducted at source. They have again added that amount into my 2008 income. I didn't get that money this year and I fail to see why it is counted as 2008 income. Isn't that penalizing me twice? I thought that was illegal but have been informed I should refer to Bill C-36, passed by guess whom in July 2008, which says the lump sum I received in 2007 must be included in my estimated income (for 2008). Yikes! Have I talked about this before, perhaps I'm becoming demented and can apply for help on those grounds? On the same day that the benevolent government rejected my appeal, they sent me the Bear's tax refunds for the last twelve years. The amount, which is greater than my entire income this year, included exactly $17.32 cents in interest. The money would probably have collected more if it had been kept in a mattress - at least it would have accumulated some lint.

This afternoon I might put up the Christmas tree or work on my novel, if I can manage to focus. Or I could look for a main dish recipe to feed six or maybe eight people. I'm having the family here for dinner, so Frank and Sam each count as two when portions are considered.

And this just in, as they say on the news, my downstairs neighbour called a minute ago and asked me if I wanted her ticket to the symphony tonight because she cannot go. I have the ticket now. It's the KW Symphony- Jazz meets Orchestra concert. That certainly perks up my Saturday. Hope yours contained a good surprise too.

Keep warm folks.

A Circus - But Where's the Meat?

Have Roman times returned? I do wonder. We have the circus that is the current Parliament to amaze and horrify us - but where's the meat?

I am appalled at the current Federal government's lack of understanding and lack of action re the economic crisis. Why don't they understand what will happen to ordinary Canadians if the auto industry and the forest industry fall apart? Of what use is an economics degree, when theory is all you know? And why must Ontario, which for years was the economic engine of the country, become the major victim of decreased equalization payments. For "make no mistake," as a certain person was wont to say, those payments will not increase - which will equal a decrease. The current federal finance minister wreaked havoc in Ontario (when he was Provincial finance minister)and we are still living with the consequences. Ontarians who receive Ontario Works (which replaced Welfare) get a grand total of $560 per month and $349.00 of that is for housing. No wonder the poor buy bread and sometimes vegetables but cannot afford meat.

If a coalition government can be formed. I'm in favour of it. After all - it's unlikely to be worse and could quite possibly be better.

Now that that's off my chest, maybe I can stop reading the political blogs and get back to work.

Need a Christmas Present - Buy This book

Love Minus Zero, my friend Lori Hahnel's book is now available through Oberon Press. It can also be found through Chapters Indigo.

http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/search?keywords=Hahnel&pageSize=10


Here's a quote from the book jacket: "Love Minus Zero is a novel set in Calgary's 1979 punk scene. It deals with a teenager's obsession with music, a singer and her own band, ending with her growing disillusionment with the undergound scene to which she belongs. Lori Hahnel was herself a founding member of the Virgins, Calgary's first all-femal rock band, so the story is told with all the freshness and immediacy of first-hand experience."

Remembrance Day

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day.

Some quotes from my grandfather's letters home. He joined the Canadian Epeditionary Forces 70th Battalion in 1915 and wrote home as often as he could. He went from the tiny village of Highgate Ontario to London Ontario where he enlisted and began training.

from England, summer 1916. "I have the best score of the Brigade 4 batts (target shooting) have got my chance to go to France and you can bet I'm going to take it. Will be home for Xmas and expect to have a good dinner."

Somewhere in France July 1916 "I read your letters by candle light. We work at night. It wouldn't be good for a persons health to do it in the daylight. It's great sport digging in the dark. You would think there was a thunderstorm all day.It don't bother us here though it's all going overhead."" 58th Batt

Somewhere in France 1916 "We are going back into the trenches tonight ... it's a job to write a letter with nothing to write about. You write often as you have news and I have none that I dare write."

Somewhere in France Aug 1916 "I was in a bombing post quite a ways in front of our front-line trench. Our Colonel has been granted the D.S.O. for work the Batt did on the 13th of June. Joe W. came out suffering shell shock his nerves are all gone so Watkins and I are alone now."

Somewhere in Belgium Aug 1916 "We have turned our Ross rifles in (the Ross rifle was badly made to put it politely) and been given Lee Enfields"

Somewhere in Belgium Aug 1916 ".. excuse this dirty paper .. everything is muddy and dirty. I was was just looking at my rifle. It's so muddy that the only way you could tell it is a rifle is by the shape of the chunk of dirt. One of my chums was killed last night .. a rifle grenade burst almost beside him and he was killed instantly. The place where we were working was a little hill and has caused some of the hardest fighting near here. "

Somewhere in France Sept 1916 "Say, if you have a few bugs or lice of any kind around, I wish you would send me some to fight with what we've got.


Liechester Engand 1916 "I came from the trenches on the 20th Sept with a bullet hole in the first finger of my left hand. It smashed the bone into pieces. We were on the Somme front then. .. We had left all our equipment behind us as we were making a charge near the village of Courcellete (near Porriers) Before that we had been in the Ypres salient. Joe W was killed on hill 60. The more a person sees of war the less he wants to. It's all right to fill up histories but this is not war its just murder. "

Rockhampton England 1916 "Well, Mother it's just six months almost to the hour since I got on the train in London Ontario to come to England.... I am a lot wiser than I was the night I came away with the 70th batt that will never see Canada again. I don't believe there were many who failed to do their duty when they were put to the test."

Somewhere in France Feb 1917 "I haven't had any pay for almost a month now and our rations aren't overly large. I am pretty near froze out so I will ring off for this time."

Somewhere in France Mar 1917 "I have been into the supports and living within easy shelling range for quite a while. Will likely be back to the real business in about 15 days. (After I get home) I won't be as particular what I eat ... after a person gets good and tired and soaking wet besides being awful hungry, almost anything tastes good."

Somewhere in France April 10 1917 "The last three or four days I have been going nearly night and day. ... We are taking bombs and ammunition up the line and at night we take up rations."

Several postcards from the front marked - I am well.

London Dec 1917 "We had just moved out of the line at Ypres where we made old Fritz more back quite a piece."

London Dec 1917, just before he was sent back to France "It seems awful to have to go back again but a person might just as well be over there as here."

France Feb 1918 "I have been back (in France) almost two months. I am still with the mule train but ... I have been off duty for the last two days. .. a little piece of shrapnel in my back."

Postcards from the front.

France July 1918 "There is more work here but not nearly so many trips up the line. There are always two men with every transport driver. If anything happens to the driver the other man has to take his place."

France Aug. 1918 "For the last two weeks I've been driving a team of mules that haul a machine gun. .. I haven't much news that I can tell out. You will know almost as much of what is going on as we do."

France Oct 1918 "I am alive and well and got through another big do safe."

France Oct 1918 "She's a great old war, but I wish she would soon quit."

November 21 1918 "Just a little letter to let you know I have outlived the war and am wishing I was back home ... it will be quite a while yet before that."

He finally arrived back in Canada in the spring of 1919.

When November Arrives

I always feel blue in November. Maybe it's because of the short days, or the bare trees, or the memories of past Remembrance Days. Or, maybe it's because what I've managed to write so far this year seems stale and flat. There are good things though, so I'll mention them.

Today is the last day for fertilizer applications, etc. for my daughter's lawn care company and the weather throughout the season has been outstanding for lawns.

My friend, Lori Hahnel, has her book launch on November thirteenth followed by a three-city tour. And, a copy of her book should arrive in my mailbox before long.

The scale my daughter keeps on her treadmill tells me that I haven't gained any weight - or lost any either. That is satisfactory, but not exciting.

The Viking's vision problem is stable and he can continue to drive.

Frank and Sam still play with their Lego stuff when no one is watching. Don't tell.

Obama was elected.

Good Times With Gangsters

I received a last-minute invitation from my daughter and so, I went to a dinner theatre event yesterday evening. Big Al's Birthday Party was a comedy filled with puns, some funny, and some bad, but I had a good time. You see, there were some handsome young gangsters at my table. The event was a benefit for the Kidney Foundation and attendees were asked to dress in gangster fashion, or some resemblance thereof. because the silly play was about gangsters. Nutrilawn had sponsored two tables for staff and each staff person could bring a guest. I was pleased to be sitting with four of the lawn-care technicians. Three of them had taken the trouble to dress like gangsters from the forties, complete with hats, dark suits and splashy ties. Oh they were fine! James, one of the technicians, won the prize for best male costume. My leather gaucho hat and black outfit got a number of compliments and young woman in full flapper regalia won the prize for best female costume.

There was a silent auction too and I bid on something that no one else seemed interested in. As a result I purchased an interior and exterior car wash for a song. So, the Viking will soon be able to treat his green van to a fresh look.

Halloween evening is probably going to be dull in comparison, since children are not allowed to trick or treat at our building, but I won't mind, I'll still be smiling.

My Memory Bank Is Overloaded, Or Should I Say Overdrawn?

Today, I received a kind notice from one of my bank credit cards. We are changing things, it said. We are increasing your security, oh and by the way,we are also increasing your fees. I'm not perturbed about fee increases because I always pay the total balance outstanding, so I pay no interest or fees. It's good to hear about increased security, I suppose, but they suggest I change my access number and Internet password every 90 days. Yikes! I will have to remain insecure, because I can't do that. My memory bank is already overloaded.

When I think of all the passwords and numbers I already have to remember, I shudder. It must be the same for lots of us. For instance, I have to remember the access numbers for my two bank cards and for one bank card that accesses one of The Bear's bank accounts. Then there are the Internet passwords and number codes for three different on-line bank accounts.

My Norton Internet computer security program keeps telling me I have passwords that could be too easy to crack even though they are made-up and make no sense. Who exactly would bother to try to do that?

And then there are numerous user names and passwords to remember for Internet boards and sites I belong to. Sometimes I don't visit a site for a while, then I have to search through my congested memory for the right access words.

Having to remember passwords and numbers and codes doesn't stop there. I need to enter a number code to access any telephone calls I've missed. My daughter's front door has coded access. And, if I want to get any information from the government, for instance, the status of my GIS appeal, I must recite my social security number. Thank goodness that number is engraved in my brain and pops up automatically.

Other numbers are not quite so easily remembered. I had to recall my home telephone number the other day, the gears in my head spun madly and the first number that came to mind was my old Toronto telephone number. I'm sure there was a slight smell of brain cells overheating before my current telephone number finally came to mind.

Maybe I should make a file with all that information in it. But then, I'd have to remember where I put the file and I already have a two-drawer filing cabinet full of stuff, a top-of-desk file, a to- be-filed pile, and, a large file box full of The Bear's financial stuff.

I think I'll have a cup of tea, instead.

Well - It could have been worse. maybe.

So, we have another minority Conservative government. The results do not reflect the will of the people but it is done. I'm glad the Conservatives did not get a majority and I certainly thank the voters of Quebec for that. I think Harper will not be able to do anything too outrageous because if all three opposition parties vote together they can prevent serious harm to our social programs and to health care. Still, I admit, I am sad. The Conservatives by won by the adroit manipulation of Canadians' fears and by the use of smear tactics. If only the Liberals and the New Democrats could unite, then the government would truly reflect what most Canadians want. Well, I can dream can't I?

In other, more positive news, my Viking does not have a cracked rib. It was a pulled muscle. The holiday weekend weather was very kind and the Viking's cooking was excellent. I'm also happy that my friend, the bear, is absorbed in the run-up to baseball's world series. It keeps him amused and occupied, most of the time.

It's time for me to stop grousing and get to work on Chapter 24. Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.

The Leader's Debates. Some Brief Observations

I saw part of the French language debate on the CBC website. There was simultaneous translation. In my opinion Mr.Dion did very well, as did Ms. May, although her French is basic and Mr. Duceppe also made good points.

No doubt there was a bigger audience for the English language debate last night. I watched the whole thing and I thought the format was a big improvement over the lectern style used in previous years. Sometimes, though, the moderator should have been more stern with the participants.

Most people, I think, were surprised by how well Ms. May did. She stuck to the facts and kept presenting them, though she did take a dig at Mr. Harper, referring to him as a fraud. Mr. Dion was more low-key but came across as sincere, particularly when I spoke about 'my Canada' you could see that he means what he says and is passionate about it in a typically modest Canadian fashion. Also, I had no problem understanding his English and am beginning to resent all the attacks on it that people, particularly on the CBC website, make. Mr. Layton specialized in interrupting others, and I didn't think that was a good idea. His best line was the sweater remark. He certainly let us know that corporations would be taxed more and average people would be taxed less. Mr. Duceppe was at his best, engaging and straight-forward, too bad he's for Quebec sovereignty.

What can I say about Mr. Harper? He tried to act in a rather presidential manner, calm and patronizing. He didn't present a platform, and still has not done so. He prefers to attack others, and to tell us that everything is fine and dandy in the rose garden. There is something going on behind that facade of a face. He never looked anyone directly in the eye and his expression was a strange, closed grin. I thought he came across as entirely without passion, or compassion. Furthermore, underneath that eerie calmness, I suspect he is a very angry man who resents having to put up with the democratic process.

So, there you have it. One Canadian's opinion.

Haper Gives Me a Headache

To reverse Harper's attack ad aimed at Dion, one might ask, what kind of leader is Harper? Autocratic is the answer He keeps his troops well-muzzled and would like to do the same thing to the arts community. His attack on the arts and artists, was ably countered by Margaret Atwood and I think also that les Quebecois are less than pleased. But, of course, people in the arts are all feeding from the public trough and should keep quiet.

Harper is also the only party leader who has refused to respond to Make Poverty History. Probably because he's sure that a lot of the poor won't vote, so it doesn't matter.

Then there's the -- our economy is fine, oops, wait a minute, nope, we are in trouble and only I can save us. Actually, the only thing that might save us is to take a completely new approach, bite the bullet and move toward a green economy.

That's enough about politics so I'll move on to more enjoyable things.

The Word on the Street event took place yesterday and we had sunshine. There were not as many booths as in previous years and NONE of the political parties were there. I wanted to contribute to the save Al Purdy's house fund, but couldn't take advantage of the - contribute $25.00 and get a free book deal. I do have the address though and can send a smaller donation.

Purdy was an excellent, and accessible Canadian poet. The house was due to be sold because his widow couldn't maintain it. She proposed turning it into a writer's retreat if enough money can be raised. For more information see
www.savealshouse.wordpress.com/

I was happy to find Brucedale press was at Word on the Street again, they publish writers who live in the Bruce Peninsula area. New this year, The Book Band which represents four or five small press publishers in the part of Ontario.

Fret Nots

I looked up the meaning of fret in my Canadian Oxford Dictionary and was pleased to discover that the fifth meaning applies to water - move in agitation or flow or rise in little waves. I like that and might use it in my fiction. But, at the moment, I'm working on not fretting, which the COD also describes as intermittent whimpering. I'd rather growl, or provoke laughter than whimper.

My adventures with Human Resources Development Canada and with Canada Post could make a good comedy sketch starring yours truly. I'm now a woman of reduced means, as they said in Victorian times, and I reapplied for the Guaranteed Income Supplement based on the severe drop in my 2008 income. An obliging HRDC staff person filled out the form. I did not understand the arcane formula used to decide what goes on the form but I signed it because it appeared to be correct. The form was sent to the HRDC gods in Chatham Ontario. After an ice age passed, they replied. They said no, but provided an avenue for appeal. I sent a registered letter stating relevant details to HRDC. Nothing happened. After a six week wait, I called HRDC and they informed me that no letter had arrived. I called Canada Post. They told me the letter went out on August 7th, and we don't know what happened to it after that. In three months, we might know, but until then - no luck for you. So, yesterday, I called HRDC again and they told me to go to the local office and resend the information. It took a mere two hours to get it done, again. After that experience, I feel that the $12..00 registered letter fee would have been better spent on some frivolous thing, like a four slice pizza. I also feel like a Monty Python character, perhaps the one in the dead parrot sketch. But I will not fret, that would be unbecoming for a person of my lowly status. Instead, I'm practicing my growl, in case I have do go through this for the third time.

I'm not going to fret much about the stock markets going haywire either. We are all involved in the U.S. economic mess because our government puts some of our money in the market and the Bank of Canada is helping prop up the perpetrators. I think I'll emulate Alfred E. Neuman "What, me Worry?" Nope, not me. I'll do what the rest of the low-income people do and squander my money on necessities and three lottery tickets a week instead of one, thereby vastly increasing my odds from one in a billion to perhaps one-and-a-half in a billion. We who inhabit the low income zone are a feckless lot and frequently give in to our need for possible immediate gratification.

I'm also not going to whimper about the fact that my daughter will turn 44 on Monday. I'll save my sniveling for when she turns 45 - then she'll be what people refer to as middle-aged and we can get together and grumble about it.

It's time to shop for a birthday card and a present for N. Something frivolous, of course.

They're Off and Running - I am too.

The Canadian election campaign has officially started. Of course, it started ages ago, but never mind. All the horses are out of the gate and on the track now. We will likely see all the major party leaders visit this part of Ontario more than once. I note that Smilin' Jack has Calgary as his first stop. That should be tons of fun.

I hope the coverage of the campaign will be fair to all the parties, well, I can hope, And, I hope that the Liberals keep to the high road and don't fulfill Harper's predictions.

This week, I have a lot of different chores and appointments jammed into a few days, so I'll be running too.

Pass the Hot Potatoes

Here an election, there an election, and in both places - there are hot potatoes. Canadians can look forward to, or dread, an election on October 14. That's not a surprise because the Conservatives have been campaigning madly for weeks, or is that months? I think the two hot potatoes are the environment and the economy. Harper, he of the rigid hair and attitude, will focus on the economy and will denigrate the Liberal's plans for the environment. It appears that Dion will continue to present the Green Shift as his major platform plank. I hope he can manage to convince voters of its validity and its sanity. If our environment becomes more and more toxic, the effects will be far worse than a dip in the national economy.

It could be argued that calling an election now is illegal, but it's unlikely that there will be much focus on that particular issue. The PM says that Parliament was not working, meanwhile his party generated a booklet that was all about how to obstruct the business of the house and stall committee work.

There is also the money-in money-out scandal and the Chuck Cadman problem.Of course, the Conservatives will do their best to ignore all this. They will likely to continue to refer to Dion as ineffective and to Harper as a 'strong leader'.

I believe we should be wary of that 'strong leader' rhetoric. Even Harper's method of increasing funding for the Armed Forces could be criticized, if Dion wanted to. Dion's partner/wife, Janine Krieber, is an renowned expert in anti-terrorism who teaches at RMC. She believes that Canada's military can do its best when thoroughly and expertly trained and prepared etc. Might - in other words - is not the definitive answer to terrorism. History proves that's true, but, alas history has been ignored by Harper, who prefers to theorize on the virtues of unrestrained capitalism.

Meanwhile, south of the border, there are also hot potatoes. The Republican presidential candidate has chosen a woman to run as the VP candidate. She is much younger than McCain and has far less experience. That could be a problem, but the bigger problem, which no one is addressing, is her belief system. One important example: abstinence is the only sex education that should be funded and taught. How unrealistic! As a mother, I sympathize with her and with her teenage daughter who is now pregnant. But, I am also concerned for the young man who is the father of the child. Yes, he should admit responsibility and do his best to provide for the child, but must he marry her? It would tidy up the situation, but what does he want to do? I suspect we'll never know. As a side note to all this, the rate of teenage pregnancies in the U.S., which had slowly fallen for several years, has now risen again. Does abstinence only sex-education have anything to do with this? I think it may. We are all fallible, and promises made in good faith are sometimes broken.

Mrs. Palin took on the 'old boys club' in Alaska, but now, she wants to become a member of the most powerful old boys club in the world. Irony abounds.

Defeat the Conservatives Before They Ruin Canada

The political junk mail from the Conservative party which arrives in my mail box on a daily basis has thoroughly pissed me off. I was already angry with Harper and his minions, but now the pot is really bubbling. Therefore I created a facebook group - Defeat the Conservatives Before They Ruin Canada. Maybe I'm returning to my radical, shit-disturbing roots. We'll see what happens. I know I will post a manifesto on the page. I know I'll ask friends to join the group. I'm not sure what else I'll do - yet, but I will take other actions.

In family news, my son-in-law's mother passed over to a better world. She was a very loving person and her children adored her. On a brighter note, I'm happy that I've been able to get some writing done, send a story out and postpone cleaning my apartment. And now, back to work.

I'll Always Remember The First Time

I'll always remember the first time my grandsons attended a major live outdoor rock concert (without an adult family member), and I rather think they will too. The concert took place in Downsview Park on Friday afternoon and evening. On Saturday night there was a major propane explosion just south of the area.

The drive to Toronto took well over two hours, though there were no closed lanes, the problem was simply volume of traffic. Of course, the boys were anxious to arrive. Nancy dropped them off at the park entrance and, according to Frankie, they had to stand in line for two and a half hours before they could get admitted to the concert area. They had tickets - they also had sealed bottles of water and sealed snacks, and cell phones. The water and the snacks were confiscated and thrown on the ground. Frank said he saw hundreds of water bottles in the pile. Does the fact that the event was sponsored by a certain Energy Drink have anything to do with that? I suspect it does.

The boys had a great time. Frank was able to get into the mosh pit and he has the bruises to prove it. He almost caught a thrown drum stick too, but when he dived for it, it turned out to be a straw.

While the boys were in the midst of the throng of thousands, Nancy was cruising the Yorkdale Shopping Centre and I was at the Taste of The Danforth event. I met a friend there and we had a leisurely lunch and then checked out the street vendors. I took the subway back to Yorkdale and went on a search for a pay phone. It's harder than you might think to find one. There was a whole bank of them near the entrance and none were in service. I finally found one that worked and called Nancy on her cell phone. She was sitting in the car and described her location. It's a good thing she got out of the car and waved her arms, or I would never have spotted her.

We had dinner at the mall and checked on the boys again via cell phone. Then it was time to move the car to the Downsview subway station parking lot and wait. We could hear the thump of the band and I can vividly imagine how loud it was in the park. The boys had to walk from the park to the subway and they finally made it to the car just a little after midnight.

Frank told us that lots of people had weed and alcohol. I guess the security guards were not all that efficient. He also told us that the whole thing was like, like, awesome, eh, especially when Slipknot's drummer kept playing as his drum set turned upside down.

Someday the boys will be singing "wasn't that a time."

The Naked Writer, The Form, And Earl

I have been reading, The Courage to Write by Ralph Keyes. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. The naked in my headline does not refer to a literal state of undress and although I often write in my pajamas, I haven't tried writing in the nude - yet. Instead, it refers to a writer's fear of revealing too much and suffering failure, censure or fill-in-your-worst-fear, as a consequence. The best fiction comes from peeling away the layers and getting as close as we can to the truth of the characters. Here's one quote I especially like -

"writers who hold their readers' attention are the ones who grab them by the lapel and say, 'You've got to listen to what I'm about to tell you.' It's hard to be that passionate. It means you must put your whole poke on the table."

And that, as they say - ain't easy because "the fear of revealing ourselves tends to be repressed." But, if we don't go into the dark places of the mind and soul and illuminate them, our writing will only feebly scratch at the surface.

I'm in one of those dark places at the moment, and maybe someday that will serve me in my writing, but right now I'm too pissed off to see that. In June, one of the staff at Service Canada assisted me with my application for the G.I.S. benefit. However, thanks to some sort of error, I've been judged ineligible. The income they say I'll get this year is almost twice what the true amount would be. So, I have to launch an appeal. I'll write all the information in a letter as well as filling out the parts of the form that I can decipher. Maybe that will work.

When I'm not doing the things I should be doing, I occasionally amuse myself by watching a certain reality television show. I could justify this to my friends who watch little or no television by saying I do it to learn about pop culture and the younger generation. That wouldn't be true though. I watch when I'm too whacked or too lazy to read or do anything productive. So, I've seen a couple of Canadian Idol episodes and I've become an Earl fan. He's unlikely to win because he's well, odd - and he doesn't look the part, but he's, like, totally real eh! It's likely that Mookie will win, but my heart is with big Earl, the goofy guy who's a true original.

Family Birthday Bashes and other Amusements

My youngest grandson chose to have a Harvey's hamburger for his birthday dinner. After we had dined we returned to the house for the birthday cake ritual. The lights are turned off, the birthday honoree is sent out of the room and when the candles on the cake have been lighted he returns as everyone sings Happy Birthday to him. The ice cream cake was delicious and S. who is now fourteen said more than three words, which is unusual, and allowed his grandparents to hug him. He received a new dirt bike a couple of days before his birthday because there is a BMX track near the family campsite. Grandparents, uncles and aunts, gave him cash and as I understand it he wants to buy a better MP3 player, or whatever it is that has now replaced that gadget.

I received a surprise belated birthday present in the mail (a gift certificate). It was especially heartening to receive it during the week when I had to have a mammogram and a bone scan. I really hate having a mammogram, not only because it's painful but also because of my family history. I'm glad to say that nothing abnormal was found. The bone scan revealed that one side of my neck has more than the normal amount of bone loss. There are no problems anywhere else and that's weird. Pass me the cheese, please and of course, the calcium supplement. (I'm somewhat lactose intolerant, but cheese has an enzyme in it which helps - too bad ice cream doesn't).

Friday, I went down to King St. to watch all the classic cars cruise by. I was a bit early and looked for a place to sit. There are benches along King but all of them had been staked out. However, one bench was occupied only by a large rather intimidating man who was sitting right in the middle of it. So, I asked if I could share the bench. He turned out to be extremely knowledgeable about the cars and quite chatty. Agreeable company, nostalgia and gasoline fumes. What else could a woman who grew up spending her after-school hours in the Greyhound bus garage want?

And, in other people's news, my friend Lori now has her own website. You can find it here
http://www.lorihahnel.ca/

It's great!

G 8's Policies Suck. Org

So, the fearless G 8 leaders met in Japan. They had a great honking banquet. They chastised an African despot. They ignored pleas for more aid. They asked for more oil production. And, apparently Bush called out - "Yo Harper."

Oh yeah, and they agreed that somehow carbon emissions should be cut in half by 2050. It all makes me want to scream bloody murder. And oh - Canada - how could we have elected a man who believes that the state of the economy is more important than our very lives. It isn't Dion who would screw us if we adopted some of his ideas. It's the sorry excuse for a man who currently occupies the Prime Minister's office.

Yo - Harper. Get out and talk to people. Oh, wait - minor gods don't do that. They're too afraid of what they might find out.

The Birthday Blog

It was one of those birthdays, you know the kind. The ones that mark a decade or a half-decade or, in my case, the arrival of a new status at a half-decade. I'm now officially a senior and will look forward to whatever perks go with the title. But, it's a weird feeling. On Tuesday, I was officially young, or at least not classed as old; now I'm in a new category. Perhaps the fact that my youngest grandson's voice dropped overnight and he now sounds like a man should have given me a clue, but it didn't.

When a male friend who is three months younger than me called to wish me a happy birthday and ask me how it felt to be officially old (he enjoyed saying that), I said, I didn't know yet. And that's still true today.

I spent the day itself doing whatever came to mind and ignoring my chores. I had a healthy breakfast, chocolate mousse cake for brunch and potato chips for supper. Because, well, because I felt like it. Maybe I needed a small rebellious moment. I also finished reading a mystery and fooled around on the internet.

There's birthday loot of course. I have a brand new pair of walking shoes thanks to the marvellous Viking and a framed photograph of the Port Elgin lighthouse from my daughter. Today is just a regular day so I suppose I shall have to return to the land of responsibiities. Maybe I'll do that after lunch.

Madness in the Marketplace

My brain may only be firing on one cylinder at the moment. Perhaps that's why I fail to understand the cost of things.

My friend, the Bear, had a wheelchair that was chosen for him by the occupational therapist in Toronto. The chair also had a separate air cushion that fit on the seat. The wheelchair is a piece of crap but the cushion can protect my friend's bony rear end when he sits in the dining room. Because he is not using the wheelchair (and because it is a piece of crap) I called the company that had sent it and asked them to take it back. They suggested I rent it for $200 a month and I said no. However, the cushion has a mark on it and could not be returned. So, I asked the price - $541 dollars and that, my friends, is the Adaptive Devices Program price. A special deal indeed! I sent the company a cheque, but I also told them I hoped never to buy anything else from them, ever.

Not everything is as ridiculously expensive as that cushion. I cracked my small Melita coffee pot; the kind that can sit on a stove burner and has a removable cone on top. It's a simple thing. I boiled water and poured the water over the coffee filter and waited for the elixir. When the Viking was here on the weekend he noticed the cracked pot and said he would replace it. He tried, but they don't make basic things anymore. Instead, the inveterate shopper purchased a Black & Decker 12 cup automatic coffee-maker for me. When he delivered it, I wondered where I would put it, since I have so little counter space - but I was also concerned about the price. It cost $15.00. I'm afraid to ask how they do that.

I'm also afraid to look at current gas prices, though I don't drive. The Viking's old van, affectionately known as the green pig, is a very thirsty critter and so, we are unlikely to get out of town much this summer. All energy costs are bound to go up, but we have wise advisers to help us out. David Suzuki suggests we hang our clothes out to dry the old fashioned way. Well, yes, I would love to have a clothes line in the condo's back yard, but I fear the board will not agree.

Happily, sometimes people benefit from expensive purchases made by others. The Bear had an almost new $1800 double bed with an air bladder mattress in his apartment. It was totally unsuitable for his new abode. I didn't want it and it couldn't transport it. Fortunately, the bear's neighbour who assisted me during the final pitch-out day, knew of an older lady on the same floor who needed a bed. She's delighted to have it since she was sleeping on a very old futon, on the floor. And I'm glad to end this on a up-beat note.