Older than them thar Hills But, Not Smarter, Yet.

It's that time of year again. The time when I officially get older. It isn't a decade birthday, but today my grandson officially graduates from elementary school and on the weekend he will be fourteen. In two years, Frankie will be driving. I guess that makes me older than them thar hills. It's a good thing I became a mother at such an early age, because I'll have more than one generation to depend on as I enter my dotage.

I'm still too young to have any of the advantages of being older, like crankiness and forgetfulness, the flaws people ascribe to our elders. But I've decided some early practice wouldn't hurt. Maybe I can "forget" to pay some bills and use the extra money for a treat, and maybe I'll ask the mail carrier what he's done with all the acceptance letters that should be in my mailbox. I might even tell the superintendent of my building that I don't want to hear about every complaint she receives. Well, I might, if I have a personality change, but it's more likely that I'll continue to listen to her.

I'm not any smarter than I was last year. Probably that's just as well, though, because if I was too smart I'd give up the mug's game of writing fiction, since logic would say my chances of success are so low.

Fortunately, I'm not smart enough to accept that. Instead, I plan to celebrate being young enough to pursue my dreams.

Capri Pants Must Die.

I was at the mall today looking for a skirt, or a decent pair of dressy straight-legged slacks. Every other woman who passed me in the mall was wearing capri pants. Ick! They make women's legs look shorter and fatter. Unless you're a stick figure, they simply don't work. What really aggravates me is that next year, that fashion will be as dead as dead can be, and hundreds of thousands of women will put the Capri pants or cropped pants, or whatever you want to call them, (I just call them ugly) at the back of their closets.

And while I'm still in fashion rage mode. Why are there only ballerina, flouncy skirts on the racks, or skirts with weird zig zag hem-lines? And why is the only suitable cotton A-line skirt in the entire mall priced at $80 (including the taxes) and made in China? Maybe the pretty beaded filigree trim accounts for it, but I have my doubts.

I also doubt that I'll be able to add anything else to my wardrobe in the near future.

I am only a channel for "The Fashion Maven," side of my personality and take no responsibility at all for her crankiness.

The New Yorker, The Walrus, and Snidely Whiplash

The good folks who live in Toronto are recovering from the media frenzy that blared forth when suspected terrorists were arrested on Friday. I think it was Friday, time seems to waiver when news reports leave out details. Before this incident I'd been thinking about the media and humour in the media. Now, I wonder what The New Yorker magazine and The Walrus magazine would have to say about the incident. I know what Snidely Whiplash would say, he'd say "Curses! Foiled Again."

So why am I mentioning Snidely in the same sentence as those two magazines? It all began when I bought an April issue of the New Yorker and then the June issue of The Walrus. I like to buy Canadian magazines, and I wish that at least one could compare to The New Yorker. The Walrus tries hard, and the June issue has a very good article by Roy Romano on Canada, as well as an article by Mark Kingwell about the empire of the United States but it also has a pitiful attempt at humour by Marni Jackson. The New Yorker is still a weekly magazine, and it's the only weekly magazine that will print long detailed articles, fine fiction, and humour and there is always at least one cartoon in every issue that makes me laugh. Maybe someday there will be an equivalent Canadian magazine, maybe, but that's about as likely as the return of Snidely Whiplash. Snidely, the inept cartoon villain from The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle, might say - tie Ms. Jackson's computer to the tracks. Then, I'd have to stop him in order to preserve his reputation. But I'll give him another task, he can make a brief appearance or two in my novel, if he misbehaves in the appropriate manner.

Squabbleland and Brokeback Mountain

If there was a country called Squabbleland, then I have some people who should be sent there. In that land, they could carry on endless arguements about small issues and drive one another to the brink of insanity.

The United Nations has not agreed to the formation of Squabbleland, and even if it did, there would be an ongoing and of course fruitless struggle to define the borders of the new country. In the meantime, I guess I'm stuck with the folks who seem to enjoy constantly disagreeing with one another.

So, I'll talk about a movie instead. I saw Brokeback Mountain on the weekend and am not sure what kept me from going to sleep while I was watching it. Maybe it was the Alberta scenery. If the cowboy is laconic as well as iconic, then I suppose the two stars of the film did what fit the bill. They couldn't say what the screenwriter didn't provide, and he or she didn't provide much dialogue. If the film hadn't been about a same sex relationship between two men-of-the-range would it have caused a ripple? I'd say no.

Out of the Pop Culture Loop - Like - Way out.

Every so often, my status as a one of the people who is perennially "out of the loop" about pop culture is re-confirmed. Last night was one of those occasions. I couldn't sleep and so, instead of reading I turned on the television and watched a little of the David Letterman show. He was interviewing a young woman I didn't recognize. She is one of the stars of the television show Will and Grace. I've seen the show a couple of times but that's all, and when Rogers cable gets around to disconnecting me, I won't be catching any reruns.

When my grandson talks about the bands he listens to I'm perplexed. I only recognize the name of one band and I haven't heard their music. Apparently they are "like ... really cool." I'm amazed that the word "cool" is a staple in the vocabulary of a fourteen year old, and I certainly won't tell him that I used it way back in the dark ages when boys would be kicked out of school for having below-the-shoulder length multi-coloured hair and wearing jeans. and girls could be sent home for wearing skirts that didn't cover their knees, or for not wearing a brassiere. Dinosaur days.

When it comes to pop culture books, I'm also not up-to-date. Stephen King has a new book out, "Cell." My daughter read the first part of it and gave up. She won't allow my grandson to read it until he's older; although she has let him read other Stephen King novels. She's decided that if it's too graphic for her, then it's certainly not appropriate for her fourteen-year-old son.

Speaking of books, a couple of days ago, one of my neighbours gave me "Three Day Road" by Joseph Boyden. It's the One Book One Community selection for Kitchener Waterloo this year and I was excited to acquire it, even though I must return it to the library by February 28th. It is a much better choice than last year's book "Hominids." I'm only on page 60 because I'm savouring the writing, but already I'm extremely impressed. The book isn't a pop-culture novel - it's way too good to be given that label.

I can't say I'm completely un-exposed to pop culture though. Sunday I went to see the movie "RV" with the man in my life. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but since he's taken me to many of my first choice movies, I agreed. He found it hilarious, and I thought it was mildly funny although I could have done without the exploding trailer toilet episode. On the positive side, Robin Williams is very good at physical comedy and has a very expressive face. We went to the matinee and there were lots of children in the audience. They loved the movie.

I miss seeing free cartoons before a movie starts, but that just means I'm old.

Tha tha tha that's all folks!

Beware of the "Should" People. They're Multiplying.

I don't know how you feel when someone tells you should do something, or act in a certain manner, but I know how I feel. It annoys me.

Maybe it all started when I was at George Brown College and so many of the people in the Human Services Counsellor course were members of Alcoholics Anonymous. "Don't should on yourself" was one of their favourite expressions. And I still think it's good advice, but I'd like to amend it slightly to include don't 'should on other people either."

The word, or its intent has been popping up frequently. Harper implies that we should all be happy with the budget, since everyone gets a tax cut. Well, if everyone gets a tax cut (and that's not quite accurate) then revenues will fall. And he's got lots of spending plans. Next thing you know, he'll be telling us how necessary it is to raise more money, by cutting frills (read services here, if you are not a Conservative) and increasing private health care.

A few days ago, the latest issue of This Magazine arrived. There's an article in it by the writer, John Degen, titled "Suffering for One's Art is Romantic, But it's Still Suffering." I agree with much of what he says about arts funding, but here's what got my attention and got my goat, too. (Note the word too at the end of that sentence). He says, and I quote:

"A good novel should take five years from conception to launch."

He goes on to talk about "writing, rewriting, self-editing, finding an agent, (if you are extremely lucky), finding a publisher (see finding an agent), editing again, copy editing, launching and touring."

Maybe he's right, and there are writers who have had to endure an even longer time line; but, that should sticks in my craw. It could be that I don't like his idea of how long it ought to take. because in five years and one month, I'll be sixty eight. That's awfully close to seventy, and I sure hope I finish my novel before I hit the next decade.

There are other people who are saying you should to me. A member of the e-editing circle I joined is quite fond of that little word. You should never end a sentence with 'too,' says he. And, you should never use strange descriptive words. He also listed quite a few, you should not's, but I'm not going to mention them.

I'll think I'll go and break a few writing rules. My errors, if indeed they are errors, can be corrected when I rewrite, and rewrite. But right now, I want to make some, and I need to, too.

When in Doubt, Move Furniture or Nudge Golf Balls

Last week I managed to completely avoid working on my fiction. It was WAW Writing Avoidance Week for me. Maybe it could become a national holiday.

I found a lot of other things to do, and in case you want to follow my shining example, I'll give you the short list.

First, I acquired a new internet service provider and then I filed my taxes online, before the deadline. That gives me bonus points because last year, I was a late filer.

Then I rearranged my living room (again) because the shelves I'd moved made me feel hemmed in and besides I needed to vacuum under some furniture, and its spring. That may be the last time I move the shelves for a while, since I'm not sure what's holding them together and I don't want to create ill will in them. I need their support since they hold my writing books and miscellaneous things like the stapler, the stack of evnvelopes and file folders, the paper clip supply,the phone books and my bus map Now they are backed with cork board so I can stick things on them.

My best avoidance activity of the week was mini-golf. I'm not good at it since my ability to judge distances, angles, and elevations is so poor. But blind luck and the ability to distract my worthy opponent led to victory. After 36 holes, I had taken one stroke less than my partner. The mini-golf course has a field behind it and it was receiving an application of manure. Mostly the wind was blowing away from us, but when it blew in the wrong direction my allergic opponent began to sneeze. Maybe I won because I sneezed less. A rematch is very likely, but the number of courses we can choose from is limited.

I also watched a bit of the hockey play-off games. It's time to say farewell to cable television and I've cancelled my Rogers account, but since they haven't yet disconnected me, I'm indulging in an advance bout of nostalgia; after all, why should I wait until the service stops.

I guess I'd better go and put one word after another.

Dark Screen, Dark kitchen, Bright Literary Light

Yesterday, I finally changed my internet service provider. Well, to be technically correct, I didn't accomplish this great leap forward by myself, the man in my life did most of the work. And, wonder of wonders, he actually followed the available step-by-step instructions. So, last night, I tried to send out notices to everyone in my email address book. But I couldn't. My Norton Antivirus kept saying it wouldn't send "encrypted" messages. Then the Norton site refused to open and give me more information, so I gave up temporarily. This morning I turned on my computer and the screen was dark. Yikes! Before cardiac arrest set in I thought I should check the easy things. It turned out that t.m.i.m.l. had turned off my monitor screen before he left.

One problem solved, but another darkness problem has occurred and I hope it will be just as easy to remedy. It's a rainy Sunday morning and when I turned on the kitchen lights, the last two fluorescent tubes flickered and went out. I think I'll live with a dark kitchen today since I'm feeling lazy and don't want to tackle taking out the ceiling panels and then walking to the hardware store in the rain.

In between my movie watching adventures, I have been doing some reading. I finished Zadie Smith's White Teeth but I wouldn't give it four stars since I think the last third of the book is very weak. I also think she's the queen of digressions, but maybe that is just sour grapes on my part. What I would recommend is "The Wreckage" by Michael Crummey. If I were a reviewer, I'd give it the maximum number of stars available because it's a very fine novel. I hadn't read anything by this writer before, but I'm certainly going to look for his "River Thieves" which was a finalist for the Giller Prize in 2001.

Maybe a quiet wet and somewhat dark Sunday will be just what I need.

More Movie Madness and Rama Lama Ding Dong Too

I've seen two more movies in the last couple of weeks and I'm happy to report that both Capote and Narnia are excellent.

The actor who played Capote gave an amazing performance and it's no wonder he captured the Oscar. He must have watched hundreds of clips of Capote, the strange man who pretty much invented a new genre when he wrote In Cold Blood. It's a chilling book. The movie also shows Capote's somewhat parasitic reliance on and attachment to the killers. I suppose though that many writers mine other peoples lives, or their own lives for the sake of their art.

I don't know a lot about C.S. Lewis's life or where his inspiration came from. But, while I haven't read the Narnia books, I do remember reading C.S. Lewis's Screwtape Letters when I was in my teens and being quite impressed with the wiliness of the older devil. I did see the movie about his wife Joy and their relationship some time ago and it seems that C.S. Lewis was fated to meet his love very late in life, and then she died before he did.

If you are wondering about 'Rama Lama Ding Dong' - its appearance is the result of my pecan pie intake. Monday night I was at a C.A.A. executive meeting, wearing my secretary hat, and I had the pie for dessert. When I came home, I went on-line and began chatting with my friend Dorothy. By then, all the sugar was giving me such a high that I entered the extreme silliness state. Dorothy and I began exchanging typed riffs of nonsensical and sometimes bawdy song lyrics. It's something we used to do when we worked together and stress and tension was high. I remember we started it after I'd dealt with a violent incident.

Who put the Ram in the Rama Lama Ding Dong
Who put the Bop in the Bop She Bop She Bop

Shoop Shoop Shoop

Duke Duke Duke, Duke of Earl, Duke Duke Duke of Earl

Mama's Got a Squeeze Box

Loui Loui

A Tisket A Tasket A Green and Yellow Basket

It kept us from becoming basket cases, or maybe it didn't, but now it's a 'tradition - tradition'.

I've decided to refer to my almost-daily walks that nearly always include a stop at Tim Hortons as my tradition. It sounds so much better than saying I have a habit.

Make it a double double, please.

Cheers!

A Circular Life

Many, many, many years ago, when circulars were sometimes printed using a Gestetner machine, I was an envelope stuffer. It was my first paying summer job. The company was trying to sell hearing aids and the owner was mailing an advertisement to everyone in the city. He obviously didn't know anything about marketing.. He also didn't pay much and I can't remember the hourly amount I received. I do remember coming home with navy blue fingers every afternoon.

Circulars have changed and so has the marketing approach. Last night I spent a little time stuffing envelopes at my daughter's office. It was a volunteer effort. I was there and had to wait for a ride so I offered to help. The advertising is targeted, as they say in marketing, and the gorgeous info flyer will be sent out with a newsletter and a fridge magnet. I hope it will be very successful.

I think my glasses are still at the office so this wee blog is in large print. Maybe marketers should consider printing most things in larger print since Canada has an aging population. Last week, I received a flyer from the real estate agent who sold me my apartment. It was printed in 8 point font, I just know it was because I've set up brochures and you just can't get so much print into the available space unless you are using 8 or less. I had to peer closely at it and after trying to struggle through the first paragraph, I put the flyer in the circular file.

Happy Easter and find an egg for me will you. I can't see a darn thing.

A Little Song, a Little Dance and No Seltzer

My life is rolling merrily along at the moment. It wouldn't be safe for me to do anything more than a slow dance, or some of the belly dance movements I remember that don't require too much bending of the knees, but I did sing in the shower.

Even receiving a rejection letter didn't really dent me for too long because on the very same day I got a gorgeous mug from Kelley Armstrong. It was a perk for participating in NaNoWriMo. Kelley gave presents to her board members who completed the challenge.

As for the dance part of the headline, my daughter and her family went to see Tap Dogs Monday evening. Both Nancy and Sam are tap dancers and they reported that the performance was amazing, so maybe I'll help fund the same type of outing again next year, if the troupe returns to Kitchener.

Alice Munro will be interviewed on TVO this evening and I won't be home to see it. I only found out when the interview would be on after I agreed to attend a C.A.A. executive meeting tonight. Right about now, I wish I was a good liar in real life because I'd love to find an excuse to stay home, but ethics are prickly things and they get in the way of that kind of lie. Maybe it will be rebroadcast sometime when I'm home.

In between seeing movies with the new man in my life and reading books about writing and doing the necessary and tedious things, I've managed to get a little writing done. At the last possible moment, I submitted a story to the Ten Stories High contest and I've revised a bit more of my novel.

I've also been reading Elizabeth George's book about the novel writing process, "Write Away, One Novelist's Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life." My writer friend Arlene recommended the book and I found it was available at the library. Of course I don't agree with everything she suggests about the way to approach novel writing. I may be a bit too left-brained, or is it right-brained or maybe muddle-brained? to follow such thorough step-by-step processes for every aspect of the novel. I do, however, agree with some of her final words and here they are verbatim:

"You will be published if you possess three qualities - talent, passion and discipline.
You will probably be published if you possess two of the three qualities in either combination - either talent and discipline, or passion and discipline.
You will likely be published if you possess neither talent nor passion but still have discipline. Just go to the bookstore and pick up a few "notable" titles and you'll see what I mean.
But, if all you possess is talent or passion, if all you posses is talent and passion, you will not be published. The likelihood is you will never be published. And if by some miracle you are published, it will probably never happen again."

Tough words - where is that discipline switch again? Oh yeah, it's all in my head. Back to work.

Confessions of a Simple Prole

In the last few days, I've chosen entertainment over enlightenment about ninety percent of the time and I suppose that might re-confirm my membership in what Marx referred to as the proletariat. I've always been a member of the working classes, not what the Globe & Mail so archly refers to as the chattering classes. I confess, I'm just a simple prole

Last weekend I saw Ron James' two hour live stand-up comedy show and loved it. I was as impressed by his ability to remember all his jokes and stories as I was by the material itself. And on Saturday, I had my choice of two movies "Capote" or "The Legend of Zorro" and I chose the second one. I wasn't in the mood for enlightenment. I wanted to see great-looking men ride horses and brandish swords. --I wonder why must swords always be brandished, why can't they be flourished or waved? and why must hussies always be brazen? Maybe someone should brandish a brazen hussy sometime. --The movie was filled with impossible stunts (a horse on top of a train - oh sure), impossibly pushed up buxom bosoms (Zeta Jones must still have bruises), one impossibly good child actor and the requisite impossible plot. What more could an honest prole want?

The answer is ice cream, and I had some maple walnut.

All Johnny Depp - All The Time

Well, not quite all the time, but it makes an interesting headline.

I saw Depp's latest movie, The Libertine, on the weekend. It's a dark, and muddy movie, both literally and figuratively speaking. I don't think I'd see it again, but that's because I don't want to come out of a movie feeling depressed. Depp's character (a poet and a rake) is never redeemed and sinks slowly into the mire after acquiring syphilis. Meanwhile his co-star and lover, the main female character, goes on to greater things and never gets sick. I guess poets must always suffer in some way and rakes must definitely suffer. Depp's character is addicted to excess in every form and as my date said - the movie depicted the final result of those addictions quite vividly. I'd go one past that and say "too vividly" for me.

I also saw "Chocolat" again this weekend , more Depp on-screen and lots of lovely chocolate to admire.

Maybe I can see another Depp movie sometime this week and that will make three in a row. Something to strive for, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, all that chocolate has me thinking I may have to get a chocolate fix soon because I am an un-reformed, though mostly abstinent chocoholic and I'm jonesing for some really good stuff. Yesterday's healthy salad made me feel virtuous, but I've had enough of virtue for the moment.

Here's to temporary decadence!

The Runaway Slipper and Other Tales of Confusion

It simply won't do. It's not fair and I don't quite know how to punish the culprit. One of my favourite knitted slippers ran away. I didn't do anything to upset it. I even washed both slippers the other day and let them dry out peacefully on top of the electric baseboard heater. And then there was only one to be found. I was reduced to wearing two pairs of socks to keep my feet warm and I begin to wonder if, like Earl, I've failed to fulfill my karmic list. That's a possibility, because I don't keep a list.

There are lots of other things I keep though; including various versions of the short stories I've written. Maybe I keep too many versions, because now I can't find the version I want and it's possible I may have partially revised it and accidentally deleted it. Thank God I have a hard copy of a couple of versions and now I can try to "fix" an earlier stored version. And of course, all the versions I have are too long for the contest I have in mind. Are you confused by this? - if not - then you are more with-it than I am.

A few of days ago, in an attempt to be with-it on the technological front, I installed a new anti-virus system for extra protection. Well, I got more protection than I wanted. The new system was blocking all my e-mails and it took me ages to figure that out. At first I just thought everyone in the internet universe was ignoring me - but spam never ignores me. So, I had to tell the anti-virus thingie to ignore checking my e-mails and I was able to do that. But, every time I log off and then return, it has forgotten my previous instructions. I guess the K I S S (keep it simple stupid) principle still applies to my relations with the computer, and with my slippers too.

I found the missing slipper. It had migrated to a top shelf in my bedroom. Maybe it needed more rest than its partner. I don't know because I didn't put it there.

My computer has not run off yet so I guess I'd better put my confused mind back to work.

Are Those Eyelashes Real? Oscar night thoughts

I stayed up last night to watch the Oscar awards show. Usually, I just catch the results on the news the next morning, but since I'd seen a couple of the movies and was still awake I decided to watch the glitz and glam in all its live glory.

George Clooney is "the man" and when he's wearing a tuxedo, he looks as if he was born in one. Did you ever notice his eyelashes? They are so amazing I wonder if he augments them, but surely Mr. Cool would not do that. Lots of the female stars do, and a lot of them are so thin that I worry - if they add another layer of eyelashes the weight just might cause them to topple over. I know the camera is merciless, but please, eat something ladies, at least once a day.

As for the films that won - March of the Penguins won best documentary and if there's anyone who hasn't seen it yet - then do. It's a terrific film and I was glad to hear the French filmmakers mention the renewal of the Antarctica treaty too. Memoirs of a Geisha got some well-deserved technical awards and The Constant Gardener did not win anything much. It got a lot of attention, but I didn't think the movie was as marvellous as some declared, guess maybe a lot of Academy folk agreed with me. Now that Crash has the best picture award I hope I can find a way to see it, and maybe I'll see Brokeback Mountain, but that's just a maybe. I'd rather see Crash.

It was a year for weird movie theme songs and none of the ones that were nominated turned my crank, but I'm just an old crank when it comes to movie theme songs. For instance; "It's Hard Bein' a Pimp" - I could only understand the lyrics the female performer sang, so I'm not sure if the song is filled with irony, or not, though I hope it is. I like Dolly Parton, because she knows she is projecting a cartoonish personna and she enjoys herself, plus she has written some very good songs, but the one she performed last night wasn't one of her best.

Sometime, I'd like to see Capote because the clips from it are amazing.

Well, this tired Oscar reporter better get some sleep, or she'll resemble Jack Nicholson. Eeek!

Harper Gives This Introvert Indigestion

The CBC national television news ran a feature on Stephen Harper last night. The experts have declared that his is an introvert-type personality. The piece also revealed that he is now on his third Communications Director, and that he doesn't like giving spontaneous interviews or quotes to the press. He's giving introverts a bad name, I mean, what if everyone who is an introvert, like me for instance, ends up being thought of as a Stephen Harper clone. The very thought of it makes me queasy. Of course Harper unsettled my stomach before I heard of his official personality type, but now it's worse.

I was curious about the exact definition of introvert, so I looked it up in my brand new dictionary and was mildly surprised to find this:
1. Psychology a person predominantly concerned with his or her own thoughts and feelings.
2. A shy quiet person. - Why is that the secondary definition? Is it because introverts haven't lobbied for a more prominent dictionary position?

I believe I fit the second definition, in spite of the fact that occasionally I make loud statements in public. I tend to be loud because its the only way I can make myself speak at all under those conditions. I think that Harper fits the first definition and if he is predominantly concerned with his own thoughts and feelings, how much care will he have for the people of this country, I wonder?

I still have my original Communications Director because I am unable to fire her. I guess I'm just too soft altogether.

Gold Medals and Bras

I watched the Canadian women's hockey team defeat Sweden and win Olympic Gold and cheered for them and shed a few tears too. If it was that time of the month, it would explain my tears, but I no longer have that excuse. Maybe now that I'm an 'old gal' I can be overtly emotional any time of the month. Why not?

Maybe I can rant away about the not-so-joyful process of finding a new bra too. Not that I was planning to buy one, but when I took my favourite comfortable bra out of the washer and hung it over the shower rod to dry, I happened to look at it closely. It was clear that the poor thing wouldn't survive more than one or two more washings. The last time I was in Toronto, a friend told me about a great bra store and I went there but I couldn't face paying about $70 for a bra so I decided I'd wait. Well the waiting time was up and since it was snowing madly this morning, I decided to make the trip to the Zellers store at Bridgeport. A big part of the strip mall is being renovated so I had the fun of navigating around the construction and avoiding drivers in the parking lot who didn't have a clue what they were doing. It was quiet in Zellers, it usually is, except on seniors days and I mosied through the lingerie department. I was intrigued by the very colourful selection of bras but did not think I wanted hot pink or lime green with blue stripes. And a lot of the very colourful bras are only available in smaller sizes. Talk about prejudice. Of course Jockey doesn't make the bra I used to like anymore and a couple of other models I might have chosen don't seem to exist either.

The whole process of choosing a bra is a crap shoot if you ask me. I measured myself, all three ways before leaving for the store, in case my breasts had grown overnight. They hadn't, but I'm sure my back has.

In the end, I found one that does not look like it was designed to hold up a whole bridge. It seems to fit - though who knows if it will fit tomorrow, and it turned out to be on sale. Lucky, lucky me.

Matinee Giggles

Most of the people I know don't celebrate Valentine's Day, and I didn't either, at least not on the day itself. However, on Sunday I had a movie-and-dinner date. We went to the Sunday matinee of The Pink Panther. I was sure there would be some children there, and I was right. One boy in particular made the movie-going experience more fun. He had the most infectious giggle I've ever heard. In fact, if the laugh-track people knew about him, he'd be signed up in no time. There's a lot of physical comedy in the current version of The Pink Panther, and the giggler helped the adults in the audience to let go and laugh at the extreme silliness we were seeing. So, I'm glad we went to the afternoon show, because the evening audience surely would have been more restrained.

These lines from the movie still make me chuckle.

"It was fatal."
"How fatal?"
"He's dead."

My daughter and son-in-law came over on Saturday and now the door to my utility room is installed, more shelves have been put up, and - most important of all - the doors to my fridge/freezer have finally been reversed. I no longer have to back up against the wall to open the fridge door. I don't understand why the previous owner of this place didn't have the doors put on the right way, but maybe she had the same problem I did. It's a two-person job, so I had to wait for help.

The opening ceremonies for the winter Olympics were so visually entrancing that I watched some parts twice. Later I found out that my daughter and family, who have Express-view watched parts of the ceremonies three times. I'm watching parts of the games, mostly figure skating and women's hockey, when I remember to check the schedule. I'm a big fan of the Canadian women's hockey team and I wish they'd get the kind of attention they deserve. Maybe when they win the gold medal, they will. The Canadian men's hockey team has a lot of old guys on it, so who knows, they might not win. I do feel somewhat sorry for Wayne Gretzky, because lately, he looks like he's getting an ulcer from the stress of the gambling accusations. Yeah, I know, he's rich and all, but he's never been pretentious and I'm willing to "bet" he had no involvement in the so-called scandal. Maybe I'm biased because I spent some years in the great one's home town. Brantford's the kind of place you'd choose to leave, if you could.

I wonder if our postal carrier is on a one-man strike or something. My mail box has been almost empty for over a week, only one piece of junk mail has arrived, and that's it. I'm waiting for T4P's and hoping for replies to my fiction submissions. Maybe this afternoon, or tomorrow, or the next day, there will be real mail for me. Meanwhile, I suppose I should get to work.

No Law Against Love

Two members of the Grand River Three, our small independent writing group, submitted short stories for No Law Against Love, a romance anthology published by Highland Press. Both stories were accepted for publication, so congratulations to Jennifer Ross and Susan Barclay. Well done, guys!

Proceeds from the anthology support breast cancer research and I hope that sales will be brisk.
Every story in the anthology features a silly law which might interrupt a romance. Since I've had the opportunity to read and make editing suggestions for both stories, I can tell you that if every story in the anthology reaches the quality of Susan and Jenn's stories, then the book should become a big hit.

The book will be available from Barnes & Noble. Their first order has sold out!

Quilts in the Bathtub and Savoury Food, Elsewhere

Maybe we're close to the tail-end of winter. I seem to think we are because I've started to do some of the things I planned to do in the spring.

Yesterday, I took the top quilt from my bed and put it to soak in the bathtub. I'd be happy to put it in the washer, but it won't fit. So, I reverted to my traditional way of cleaning quilts. My knees didn't appreciate the exercise and they're growling at me, so I'm pacifying them by sitting.

It could be that my knees are also complaining about the furniture moving they had to participate in on Friday. No matter. The results are worth it. My writing area is more defined and I'm putting cork board on the back of a bookcase so I'll have somewhere to post all the little notes I keep making about my novel-in progress.

As for savoury food, I really enjoyed my son-in-law's cooking last weekend. His prime rib roast was delicious and so were all the other dishes that went with it. Food is on my mind more often these days - other people's food - not mine. I've been writing about food, for money, and when I write about food it makes me hungry, for other people's food. When someone else cooks it's just so much more fun. I've never been a great cook, because I've never focussed on being one. As I wrack my brain for new adjectives, or use old adjectives in a new way to describe ready-to-eat foods, I'm gaining a new appreciation for the people who write marketing copy.

I think someone ought to write marketing copy for my friend Dorothy, the ace social worker.
After painting her office (as I mentioned in a previous blog), she's had to deal with both fire and flood at her place of employment. I'm beginning to think she should be nominated as "social worker of the year" and she should find a new job. The whole adventure might make a good short story, if it wasn't a little too implausible for fiction.

Now that I have my latest business writing venture temporarily out of the way, I think I'll get back to my kitchen, or to my fiction.