Liberals Spanked and Conservatives Tolerated, For Now.

This morning I have a political hang-over. I didn't know that imbibing too much political coverage would give me a headache, but it did. And I didn't even have the pleasure of enjoying a drink before the hang-over arrived. I'll know better next time. Next time there's an election, I won't stay up so late, I'll have a glass of wine and go to bed instead.

The Liberals have been spanked, but not with a 2" by 4" and they haven't been locked in the shed, just banished to the back yard to sort things out. Paul Martin made the right decision when he chose to give up leadership now, and he did so with some humour, and a lot of grace. He's saving his party from a lot more grief and his father would have applauded his decision. Martin always says that his father was the major influence in his life and I believe that. I remember his father, Paul senior, who was the M.P. for Windsor Walkerville. He was often referred to as Oom Paul because he was like an uncle to his constituents. He knew how to work the locals and how to keep them happy, but he never achieved his desire, which was to become Prime Minister. His son has had his happy moments on the national stage and his far less than glorious ones too. Now he can anticipate going back to C.S.L. after the next election and can probably look forward to numerous offers to be on boards. Not a bad life

As for Mr. Harper, I'm quite sure he will find life on the government side to be more challenging than he expects. He hasn't got a majority (thank God for small mercies and for the ultimate wisdom of the Canadian voters) and he will have to keep to a middle course in order to keep power. Will he put Stockwell Day in the cabinet. Probably he'll be obliged to give him something, maybe it'll be something minor. Can he keep the hard right-wingers in his party from upsetting his apple-cart? If he can't he'll find out just how hard it really is to be Prime Minister.

So, we can all look forward to a GST cut. Wow! That'll save me about fifty cents every month. Gee, thanks eh! Meanwhile, once the Cons are in, they'll more than likely revoke the one percent cut in the income tax rate that the Liberals gave to people in the lowest taxable income bracket. It'll be easy to do that - they don't need to bring it to a vote, just make an Order in Council and poof - the tax rate cut is gone. Guess those of us who haven't quite made it to the middle class, or have fallen out of it for various reasons are not all that worthy of the Conservatives attention.

The New Democrats picked up some seats, not as many as I'd hoped they would but at least they will be a significant influence in Parliament. And, one third of their elected members are women so that could be a help. Smilin' Jack will be pleased and he'll have Olivia with him in Ottawa to keep him sorted out.

I suspect all the newly elected members are going to have to behave themselves and the members who have been re-elected will have to take some cooperation lessons.

Let there be peace in the valley, at least for a while.

Is That in Your Job description?

Last night, I chatted on-line with my friend Dorothy. I wanted to know if she had finished plastering the holes in the walls and then completed painting them. That might not appear to be an unusual question until I give you the context. Dorothy is a social worker for a small community service agency and I was referring to the work she did to make her office space at least marginally habitable.

Dorothy and I used to work together and one of our enduring, ironic catch phrases was, "Is that in your job description?" We laughed about all the things we had to do that had little or no connection to our 'real' jobs.

It reminded me of all the times I've done ridiculous and sometimes dangerous things, all for the sake of keeping my employment.

Once upon a time, I was the office manager for one of the Federal Law Reform Commissions. Remember those? A lot of lawyers spent a lot of time proposing changes to the law and they required reams and reams of typing, they also required numerous meetings to argue the changes. My boss, who was in charge of the project, was brilliant and very absent-minded. He was also almost entirely unaware of how he looked. However, he did notice when the sole of his shoe came adrift just before one of those endless meetings. He came to my desk, presented me with the shoe and demanded I fix it. Thank goodness for Elmer's glue and a heavy duty stapler!

I've carried long and heavy pieces of lumber down steep stairs into a hospital basement workshop. Why? Because the delivery was dropped off at the wrong place and the Veterans who used the workshop wanted to work. Or maybe the answer to why is - because I've always been more than a little crazy. I still have a scar from that episode because the person at the other end of the lumber let go too soon.

When I worked at the Community Centre, I often became the maintenance guy because the building Seniors' Services occupied did not have its own maintenance staff. I've bailed out grease traps, cleaned up messy toilets (frequently) mopped up floods, often moved furniture and so forth. And of course, there were risks attached to my 'real' job at the time - like the distinct possibility of bringing home bugs from the homes of the seniors I visited, or the possibility of being attacked in one of the most dangerous apartment buildings in Scarborough. But I loved what I was doing.

I guess that's why I did so many things that weren't in my job description.

My job description these days is simpler - write, revise, revise, revise, research as necessary, and send my work out. It's good thing I'm my own boss most of the time, because there are lots of days when I don't do any of those things.

I should start revising a short story now, but first I'll check the mail. Maybe there will be something in the mail that will help me procrastinate a bit longer. Perhaps I should add creative procrastination to my job description.

Is it in yours?

There are Strange things Done in the Midnight Sun

It's still not January 23rd, and now the men who moil for the gold of our votes are at it again. We are being subjected to very nasty attack ads from the LIberals and from the Conservatives. I'm beginning to think the NDP needs a giant sized boot. I was watching CBC Newsworld when they showed part of the Liberal attack ad that has now been pulled from the airwaves. I didn't see all of the ad because the cable signal died in the middle of it. I wonder if there is some way they (those cable guys) could make that happen whenever a noxious political ad starts. They should come with a warning - Caution! Negative ad pothole ahead, switch lane/channel now.

Maybe publisher's information should come with a warning too. My friend Lori, whose ms has been under consideration at a small non-profit Alberta publishing house for quite some time, wondered when the publisher would make a decision. When she got in touch with the publisher, she was told they were going to close up shop. That's a rum do if ever there was one, and if I'd been the one receiving the news I'd probably be out buying some rum.

I am sitting on, or rather in a lot of money according the people who decide on property tax ratess. The request for reconsideration of my tax rate failed. But hey, if I sold my apartment, I'd have tons of lovely lolly and could buy a really nice tent.

There is some good nows though, my GST tax credit finally made it to my bank account and I promptly went out and indulged in a haircut and a perm. The cost of my very slow dial-up internet service actually went down and I'm so grateful I may not change my service provider for a while. And, Nancy, my dear best and only daughter, has been asked by the Regional government to give a presentation on -How to Choose a Lawn Care Company - at the local library. She'll get an excellent honorarium for being a speaker.

I suppose I might as well get to work and stop being cranky.

Could We Skip January This Year?

Why couldn't we just skip January altogether and go straight into February? Then we would be a whole month closer to spring and certain obligations and political terrors would have passed.

I always find January to be a bit stressful because it's the beginning of a new year and somehow its arrival implies that I should change something, or even many things. But, it's a rainy miserable day and there will be more rain and probably ice tomorrow and instead of making my usual list of things to do in 2006, I've been thinking about things I've done in past Januarys.

One January, I was working in the basement of G-Wing at Sunnybrook hospital because that's where my desk was located, in one corner of the cement blocked Arts & Crafts room. The weather was much like today's weather and it had been that way for several days. The Veterans seemed to all want to stay upstairs, preferably in bed, and so the room was much quieter than usual.

I'm not good at drawing. In fact, I failed art in elementary school, back in the evil old days when one was given a pass or fail, even in a subject like art. But I had a small inspiration that day and since there were plenty of art supplies, I could put my idea on paper. I took a large piece of craft paper and drew a huge and rather misproportioned running shoe with a very thick sole and then I printed a saying under the sole of the shoe in squished letters - Help Stamp Out January. (There is no font available here to illustrate this, but perhaps my description is sufficient.)

The drawing received howls of laughter, and that pleased me. It was my first and last attempt at visual art to date.

But who knows what the rain of this January will bring.

The Day after Christmas

Today is a quiet day and I'm glad that it is. The Christmas festivities were definitely joyful and noise-filled too. I generated some of the noise on Christmas eve when I played what's left of the piano on the second floor of the long-term care home where my daughter's mother-in-law lives. The poor piano was so far out of tune that it made me wince and I played only staccato notes and tried not to use too many of the keys at once It was a good thing the singers in the family are tolerant and reasonably loud. I'm Getting' Nuthin for Christmas and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus and Rudolph didn't need a lot of piano accompaniment, and I tried to be a silent as possible during the rendition of Silent Night.

We went to an 8:00 p.m. Christmas eve mass and there was a good deal of music before and during the mass. I was quite taken aback to hear the lord's prayer sung to a tune by Gordon Lightfoot, (the lamp is burning low upon my table top etc.) and wondered if he gets any money for that. I rather suspect he doesn't.

Christmas day there were two bouts of present opening, one after brunch and one later in the afternoon, when the out-of-town family contingent arrived, and then of course we had "The Dinner" which deserves both it's capitals and it's quotation marks. It was an excellent family time and no one got cranky, that is a record of sorts and a good one too.

I have a new DVD player and have only to face the challenge of figuring out how to work the two remotes, since I think I've hooked it up correctly. I may require the services of someone under 14 to help me figure it out, but I'm sure Frankie can be persuaded to help me.

2006 will be here in a few days and I should reorganize my work area, and try to find places for all the paper I've accumulated in the last few months. But today, I'm going to enjoy doing a fair bit of nothing.

When Christmas is the "Real Thing"

It's less than a week before Christmas day and I'm as ready for the season as I can be.

The longest night is almost upon us, and it makes me think of what it must have been like in ancient times, before electricity, before candles, before almost everything except fire, and most of all, before people could be sure that the light would return. I wonder if northern people lit fires on every hill top to encourage the sun.

We will not be huddling around a fire and waiting for the return of the light, but we will enjoy that ancient symbol of life, the evergreen tree, and we will feast and talk and laugh and probably one of my grandsons will get over-excited and be banished, but only for a short while. And the day-of-days will be too long and it will be too short, and it will be too suddenly over.

While we celebrate the season of the return of the light and of the birth of Christ, we'll remember what the "real thing" is all about. We always give thanks for surviving the year and we remember those who have precious little to be thankful for, but are thankful nonetheless.

Our family struggles often, in fact almost constantly, but we are more fortunate than many, and yes, we are blessed. And because we are blessed, the end of the year is when we can, and do, give something to others. This year, I think my contributions will go to Doctors Without Borders and to the Stephen Lewis Foundation.

May the season of light and joy bring happiness and peace to you all.

Former Party-Girl Indulges in Nostalgia

It's the week before Christmas week, and I'm remembering my not-at-all sordid party-girl past. Every year, for six years, I was extremely involved in putting on major parties for the seniors who came to the Community Centre where I worked. We would prepare and serve Christmas dinners to three different large groups of seniors and their families in four days. Two of the parties were for the frail seniors and seniors with memory loss who came to the day program I coordinated, and the other party was for well seniors. After the feasts came the singing of carols and other seasonal songs. Their favourite song was not a Christmas carol- it was Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, although Silent Night was a close second. Since I was the piano player and the song leader as well as the chief organizer, I didn't dare eat too much dinner or I'd never be able to sing.

Five years have passed since the last time I was a party-girl, but I do have pictures of many of the people who took part in the celebrations, and sometimes I spend a little time looking at those pictures and remembering.

Christmas time isn't such a hectic time for me now. I don't come home too tired to bother with anything but a quick sandwich and a warm bed. There are definitely more opportunities to enjoy the season and yet, I miss seeing all those faces light up. But maybe I'll be doing a little playing on Christmas eve. I'll be going with Nancy and Gary and the boys to visit Gary's mother who is in a long-term care home and Nancy tells me there is a piano there so I should bring some music.

Perhaps I'll spend some time this evening practicing my Christmas music.

On The Promise Road

Or - Call me when we get to Oz.

There seem to be enough big political promise balloons floating down the yellow brick road to take us for a ride all the way to Oz, if only they were real enough to lasso.

Some of them look like real balloons but, probably they were created by the political wizard's union. They will vanish on January 24th, right after we choose the new P.M. who will promptly install himself behind the curtain and amaze us with his power to forget all about the balloons.

Seems like every morning the Conservatives promise something - lower the GST a tiny bit and take six years to do it, give a measly amount of money to parents for daycare of choice, a free vote on gay marriage. They're like the high school jock who tries to seduce the girl by swearing he'll pull out in time, I won't (let the hard right) come, baby, really, I promise. Probably there was another announcement today, but I missed it. I don't want to go all the way, and besides, I don't fancy any of their promises.

The Liberals are telling us to remember the good times we've had, much like the spouse who's been unfaithful but begs forgiveness. And they tell us where they will spend more money on us, might even buy us flowers and candy (raising the personal deduction amount) and just generally, well, do - um, more, if that's what it takes to get back in our good graces.

Meanwhile the NDP candidates are grinding away trying to raise their profile across the country and get their platform heard. They're like the guy girls wouldn't date because he was nice, but too nice and too serious. Me, I like the nice serious guys. There aren't enough of them to go around and while they don't have shiny balloons, they've got some good ideas.

I guess it's time to stop thinking about politics and start thinking about Christmas.

My Brief Career As a Traffic Cop In Pink Mittens - And an Update on the NaNoWriMo Saga

I had to use a long title for this post, so that you would know what to expect. Or did I? Maybe I'm still in my rather wordy NaNoWriMo mode.

Yesterday afternoon, I took a break from writing and walked over to one of the stores on Victoria street. The store is not far from the major intersection of Victoria and Edna. Victoria street is a major road with a speed limit of 60 kilometers per hour and Edna is the exit from one of the expressways. Those two roads are always filled with traffic. When I came out of the store, I noticed that Victoria street was completely blocked-off just to the west of me. There were fire trucks and ambulances and it appeared there had been a major car accident. As I walked back toward Victoria and Edna, I saw that a woman was standing in the middle of the road and directing west bound traffic to turn left off Victoria and onto Edna. I thought that was admirable and would help prevent a pile up. She could only be in one place though and cars were still turning right from Edna onto Victoria and toward the accident, because they couldn't see the blocked road until after they turned the corner.

So... since I was wearing bright pink gloves, I stood slightly inside the Edna right turn lane and began to be a traffic cop - making large hand gestures - go left, go left. I was not in any danger, since I stood close enough to the curb to get out of the way of the fools who ignored my directions, and there were some.

Our stint as traffic cops continued for at least twenty minutes. Then a police car stopped near the woman who was still directing traffic from the centre of Victoria avenue and the officer told her to stop now that police were on the scene. This upstanding citizen then came over and told me we were off duty.

I was soaked by this time, since it had been raining for a while and so I thanked the woman and walked home. The late local news reported the accident and the fact that one driver died.

After that excitement, I thought I wouldn't be able to settle down and write. But, fortunately, my assumption was wrong.

I finished the last chapter of the first draft of my novel at about one o'clock this morning, a little less than two whole days before the deadline. Then I was so wired I couldn't fall asleep so I was awake until about three o'clock this morning.

And how have I celebrated this accomplishment? - well I stayed in my nightie until noon. I guess that's one way to mark the occasion. But I'm going out now, to find another way.

And maybe I'd better stop wearing those pink mitts.

Sic Transit Miniscule Gloria

This is just a short postscript to my last blog entry.

Early this morning I received an emal that informed me more copies of Ten Stories High will be printed.

So, guess how many more will be printed. The answer is 25. That is not a typo - the answer is 25. I guess that might tell me how small the first print run was. It also might tell me how much of an impact the anthology made. I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to either one of those "mights".

I think I'll go to Tim Hortons and console myself before I plunge back into my novel. At least I know what the next four chapters will be about. I don't know much, but it's good to know one small thing.

Sold Out!

A friend told me she'd ordered the Ten Stories High Anthology but hadn't received a reply to her email. And then, when I looked at the Niagara CAA website, I discovered that in one place the site indicated the anthology was out of print, meanwhile, on another page they said one could order it.

I sent an email to the Niagara Branch's president and received a prompt reply. The 2005 edition of Ten Stories High is sold out. It was more successful than they expected and they are "considering" printing more.

I have no idea of how many copies they started with, but the Anthology has only been out for about two months (less actually), so either they printed an incredibly small number of copies - or something is going on that I don't know about. Either way, I hope they print some more of them.

Hells bells! I only have one copy and was thinking of ordering another, just because, well, just because it might be good to have two.

I'm bullying my way through the NaNoWriMo month and have reached 29,999 words. Don't ask why I'm one word short of 30,000. I don't know. In fact this whole adventure has convinced me that at this point, the less I think about what's going on the more likely I am to get to the end.

I'm not quite sure what happens on the next page, but I'll think about that tomorrow.

Canada and Me - Halfway to Somewhere

Last night, I managed to reach the halfway 25,528 word mark in my NaNoWriMo novel. I'm halfway to somewhere, I think, and I might even know where I'm going. It certainly is a struggle to write so many words every day. And when I took a day or two off, it was difficult to catch up. I'm telling myself only 15 more days of this concentrated effort. Of course it won't be true, because I'll need to do at least two major rewrites, but it's a useful delusion.

As for Canada and where it's going and the election to come. I wish the MP's would just have the non-confidence vote and get it over with. I don't know anyone who has any confidence left in the way things are at the moment. Then there's the Liberal "economic update" otherwise known as - have some goodies and be quiet will ya. I guess some of the middle class folk and most of the business community will sop it up. I don't think it does nearly enough for the people who are not part of the middle classes. And furthermore, she said, mounting her platform/soapbox, there's the possibility that first nations people will be left out in the cold again, and nowhere in the economic update is there an increase in foreign aid mentioned. We have the bloody surplus (or so the Liberals say) so why aren't we increasing our contributions. What kind of a country is this anyway, when we can't even get close to the .07% contribution? It's shameful, selfish, and short-sighted too.

I thought Canada was going somewhere as a country. We seemed to be developing a pretty clear picture of how Canada should be and act; but right now its a bit like my novel - halfway to somewhere but who knows where. Or it could be that my novel is in much better shape than the country, because at least I know where I want it to go and eventually I'll find the way. I wish I could say the same for our country, but at the moment we're rudderless and it appears that no one with enough power cares to steer the boat in the direction I believe the average Canadian wants and needs.

I'd better get back to steering my novel.

At The Eleventh Hour

I was at the local Cenotaph this morning for the Remembrance Day service here. It still seems a bit strange not to be going to a service either at Toronto City Hall or at Sunnybrook's Warrior's Hall.

And while I see that there have been large crowds at Remembrance Day events in other parts of the country, that wasn't the case here. I don't know if K-W suffers from a bit of schizophrenia at times like this or not.

After the official ceremonies were over, I came home briefly, but on my way to meet a friend for lunch, I stopped by the Cenetaph for a quiet moment or two. I thought it would be a private time for reflection. But a reporter from Rogers TV was there and wanted to ask me a question or two about why Remembrance Day is important, so I answered, although I was a bit shakey since it was an emotional moment for me. Fortunately, few people watch the local cable TV channel.

This afternoon on the CBC Newsworld Your Call show, they were asking callers what is Canada's proudest military moment. I dialed the toll-free number, never dreaming I'd get through. I've never been successful on any other occasion. I answered the question by saying that when we became known as peacekeepers was our military's proudest moment, in my opinion. There were many many other proud military moments of course (I said) including when we decided not to take part in the Iraq war.

So, that's it, except for all the faces of all the Veteran's I worked with appearing before me as they always do on this day.

There's a long long road a winding into the land of my dreams, and I'll always remember how to play Tipperary for you.

Proud and Prejudiced

Lsst week, my daughter, Nancy, asked me for some advice on an article she was working on. She wanted to submit it to the K-W Record as a rebuttal to some pieces that have appeared opposing the use of any pesticides.

I gave her some minimal editorial advice. I'm happy to say that the article appears on the Op-Ed/Insight page of The Record today and it looks good, really good and I'm proud.

It seems that there are writers everywhere. When I went out in the rain (ugh) this morning to pick up my copy of the newspaper, I had a chat with the proprietor of the closest convenience store. As it turns out, he translates books from English to Arabic. Unfortunately, to date, he has not really been paid much for his efforts.

I guess it is time to think about working on today's installment for NaNoWriMo.

The Giller Prize. Hockey Night in Canada

CTV is currently running ads promoting iteself as the "literary" channel. Seems they are going to telecast the Giller Prize event. However; they are going to run the program at two o'clock in the afternoon, not in prime time. Will any one watch? Are they cancelling a soap opera to broadcast this? I'm not sure, but I can just imagine how many viewers will tune in, or record the event for viewing later - very few. At least they show "Corner Gas."

Rick Mercer comes back on CBC on Tuesday and I hope he will be as caustic as ever. I've really missed parts of the regular CBC shedule, mostly the comedies.

Hockey Night in Canada is back and I've actually watched a couple of hockey games ( it's been years since I bothered) and I've enjoyed the way the game moves now. I still hate fights and change the channel when one starts, but there seem to be fewer fights, so who knows, I may watch more hockey. It's in the genes somewhere and it all started back when I listened to Foster Hewitt do his inimitable play by play on the radio. Yes, I am that old, and what's more I don't care who knows it.

I'm plugging along on my "novel." I'm using quotes for that word because I don't know if it will turn out to be a novel or only a very long short story or a short novella, or nothing in particular. The characters are in conflict (yay!) and I've written almost 12,000 words so far. There's a long way to go yet.

I'll think about that after I check my mail box.

The NaNoWriMo Adventure at Day Four

It's hard to believe that in three days I've written 6,731 words and some of those words might possibly be ones I'll keep. On day three I worked on proof reading a short story so I could send it out. Then having lost a day's NanoWriMo work I had to do two days worth today.

The paragraphs are long and sprawly and in spots there's an over-abundance of descriptive detail, so someday I'll be pruning them.

The biggest challenge right now is to decide where the plot is going and whether there is enough plot.

I went to the "Evening with Stephen Lewis" and found that he is still a great speaker. Of course I'm biased but the applause and the standing 'O' he received supports my opinion. Yes, I know that people are more inclined to give standing ovations these days (old codger makes a brief grumpy appearance) but his was certainly more than deserved. His comments about the American government were careful but quite pointed and funny too. And he didn't leave out the role right-wing ideology plays in the inadequate distribution of AIDS assistance ($) in Africa. He was most passionate when he talked about the terrible price the women and children of Africa are paying now. But he also talked about some of the hopefull things that are gradually happening and encouraged the people in the audience to get involved in some way.

I suppose I should go and plot my plot, or consult my characters in my dreams.

In 48 Hours, or Less The Clock Starts Ticking

It's almost November first, and I am not ready for the NaNoWriMo adventure. I need to remind myself frequently that I'll never really be ready and will just have to do it anyway.

Fortunately, I was able to obtain Chris Baty's book "No Plot? No Problem! and have read it. I finished it while riding the bus back to Kitchener. I only hope I'll think his comments are still funny when I'm in the middle of the concentrated writing month.

I'll have to take a broom and chase my inner editor out of the room, into the hall and down the stairs. But I've had lots of practice in using real brooms and mops lately, so I should be up to the task.

Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

A Bed, A Bed, My Kingdon for a Bed. Adventures in the T-Dot

I would have liked to start this with a compliment to Sleep Country Canada, but alas, I can't.

My friend, "the bear" was in desparate need of a new bed. We went to the Sleep Country store. We chose a bed. The bed was to be delivered on October 27th. It did not arrive on October 27th. I was there and I know they did not call and it did not arrive. However, Sleep Country said they did come to the bear's apartment building and no one answered their call. Fuck that! There was no call.

After I called Sleep Country, and the bear called them too (he was irate and I can't blame him) an arrangement was made. The Bed he ordered would be delivered by an outside contractor ( a cartage company) on Saturday morning between 10 a.m. and i p.m. The bed arrived at 9:10 a.m. and I just got to the bear's apartment building in time to discover the cartage company people waiting outside his building.

Okay, so the good news is. - The Bed is now installed. It looks like a Laura Ashley oasis in the midst of chaos, but it's there. I've provided the plain blue sheets and four large soft pillows. Maybe he'll sleep on it tonight. He'd better, because I've ensured that he cannot sleep on his despicable couch.

I didn't get to do much while I was in the T-Dot. I'd planned to see the exhibition of Russsian art at the Art Gallery of Ontario. That didn't happen because I spent pretty much every moment at the bears apartment. However, I did get to see some great scenery (of the male kind) while staying at the Day's Inn at College and Yonge. Maple Leaf Gardens is closed, but it seems that many hockey players still stay at the Days Inn. It's fun to see those bulky guys tucking into large breakfasts at the hotel. I tucked-in too. I had the breakfast buffet, a small splurge, and really enjoyed myself.

Coming into Toronto on the bus, one sees the waterfront. Well, sorta sees it in between the condominium towers. If the economy is slowing, it's not evident in the T-Dot. Every blank space downtown i s about to be occupied by a condo-tower. Maybe I should be glad I don't live in the T-Dot any more.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) will start soon and I am not ready. That could be a good thing.

A Canadian Hero Comes to Town

I should say will be coming to town, but that would make the heading too long.

Stephen Lewis will be here, on November 3rd and will be speaking at St. Andrews Presbyterian Chuch, just down the street from me. Of course he'll be talking abou the AIDS crisis in Africa. He's been the U.N.'s special envoy to Africa for AIDS since 2001 and has worked tirelessly in his passionate and outspoken fashion to influence governments toward making effective changes. Rumour has it (and it's mentioned in this weekend's Globe and Mail article on him) that he may soon be fired for being direct and honest about the shortcomings of various powerful governments and the U.N. The Americans in particular are not happy about his honesty.

He's one of my heroes and true heroes are always in short supply.

On Monday, when the church office is open, I plan to pay the $25.00 which goes to the Stephen Lewis Foundation and get a seat for the evening. If the evening is sold out, and I hope it soon will be, I can look for Race Against Time (The 2005 Massey Lectures) when it comes out.

I only found out he was coming to town today when I saw a small squib about it in The Record but I hope that just means I don't buy the local paper often enough. He deserves an SRO crowd.

Sexy Posters Beside Lego Towers

I visited my daughter and her sons earlier this week and was treated to home-made chili for dinner. It gave us a chance to catch up on events in her life. Mine is fairly quiet at the moment.

It also gave me the opportunity to see my grandsons and this post is mostly about them-so if you are not in the mood to read a love letter-scroll down to the grunts'n groans section at the end.

Frank is 13 (and three months) and so far he is sailing through early adolescence and keeping vestiges of his boyhood close by. He has a poster of a sexy young singer in a bikini on the front of his dresser, and parked next to that is the Lego tower (city/space station etc.) that has been growing in his room for years. The current version of this fantastic world replaces one I accidentally toppled a few months ago. He and his brother Sam have collected Lego for years. In fact, they have so much of it that relatives are not allowed to give them more. When the edict came from on high ( 'mom says no') it caused great dismay among the male reli's.

Frank is often dreamy, and apparently he only hears requests or orders issued from on high (mom or dad) after the third utterance. That's totally normal, I think. What really amazes me is how happy he is. He also has 'cred' with his friends who are almost all physically larger than he is because: he has a girl-friend (but not in the city), he does well in school (not outstanding, but quite well), he's studying Judo twice a week and he manages to do his chores. He's going to be allowed to dye his hair black Why black I don't know, but mom said yes. Maybe he's happier and more confident than some 13 year olds I've met because he actually has time to himself. Time to just be in that in-between world of of boyish imagination interspersed with real-world aspirations.

Sam, who is 11 and-a-little-bit is only showing one visible sign of being a teen. And it's not one he's happy with. But since he has an almost uncontrollable sweet tooth, he may have to live with the occasional spot on his face. He's going out trick-or-treating and will be wearing his medieval page costume. He's made a sword and shield to go with it. I'm not sure when he found the time, between books. He's a read-a-holic. Just can't imagine where he got that propensity from. Well, I can, but I refuse to admit any responsibility. Sam is also fond of clothes and chooses what he will wear very carefully. Things must coordinate or he is not satisfied. Dance and cross-country running seem to be his favourite activities right now. But he's a quick-silver child and that could change at any moment. Of course that's one of the things I like most about him. He also has the kind of charm that people (not just family) find irresistible. I hope he has no desire to dye his naturally red-gold hair black, but older brothers have influence.

Grunts'n Groans

I'll soon be literally grunting and groaning when I try to move my friend, the bear's belongings in order to get a new bed into his apartment next week. Can't wait till this adventure is over. Mind you, I did discover I have a latent super-shopper gene when I was searching for new sheets for his new bed. Or maybe I don't, and fate was just assisting me to find a 25% off sale at Zellers so I could get 4 flat sheets for $51 including tax. Mom woulda bin proud.

Internet searching is not all it's cracked-up to be or- Why can't I find anything?

I wanted to find out more about my father's father and his grandfather and so I've been net-trolling. No success yet. His father's surname is too common and while he had three given names, none of them show up. It's back to before square one, or maybe my aunt will remember something. There may or may not be an Acadian connection and that's one of the things that got me interested in the first place. If only people had kept to consistent spellings for names. They didn't of course, and so I've researched Girard and Giruard and Carriere and Carrier and so on with no luck so far.

I'm going to use Windsor, Ontario as the setting for my NaNoWriMo draft/novel-to-be. They (those lit-crit Gods) say that first novels always have biographical elements. So I might as well go with my inclination. Besides, Windsor is a neglected setting (never mind that there may be good reasons for that!) and other cities will enter the fray at various points along the way. Since I'll be using Windsor in the '50's and '60's I may have to rely on memory if my internet research skills don't help. Or, I could take a trip to the Windsor library.

I have a couple of themes in mind, but am not at all sure of the plot elements. Could I write a plotless novel. Doubtful. Robertson Davies said something like, his ideal work would be plotless. Unfortunately, I'm not R.D., so I must figure out at least some of the plot elements and I should try to do that before November first. So much to do, so much dithering to get through.

Maybe I'll think about that tomorrow.