Demystification Guru

France 2008 - Arles, May 22

2008-06-25T12:53:00.000-04:00

Our last day in Arles. We thought we would take the bus to Aix for the day but when the alarm goes off at 6 am, we roll over and go back to sleep, thinking, we are on holiday after all. Eventually we go out for breakfast, get souvenirs and decide to take in some of the museums left on our museum pass. First, two places we visited but I forgot to write about until now.

The Musee de l'Arles Antique is all about the ancient past of Arles (as the name implies) and contains all sorts of things dug up like floor mosaics (which were stunning, by the way). I recommend a visit just for the history of it all. It was mentioned in our France for Dummies book and they said it was "a long dusty walk west of the old city". We studied our ever-present map of Old Arles and while the museum is clearly indicated, it doesn't really show how to get there, because you have to cross a major autoroute/bridge getting out of the old city. We'd walked along the wall by the Rhone a few times but once we got to the autoroute/bridge, we stopped and turned back.

This time, we carried on walking and saw there was a road under the autoroute as it turned into a bridge. We had to abandon the gentility of walking on old narrow and quieter roads and venture out into a place where pedestrians were an afterthought (if they were thought of at all, really). As avid cyclists back home, we are certainly not afraid of traffic but it is noisy and dirty. After we walked under the bridge, we passed a wine co-op which looked deserted but I suppose it only gets used in the Fall at harvest time. Then we passed a skateboard "park" which is actually noted on the map. It had one small curved ramp and it was covered in graffiti. Other than the graffiti, there was no evidence it was ever used. Now, if you wanted to encourage your young people to do their skateboarding in one controlled spot, why would you ever build something remote, ugly and small like this and put it where no one would ever go, except to spray paint on it in contempt? Talk about not involving the stakeholders.

As we rounded a bend in the road, we were startled by the modern appearance of the museum of antiquities. It is a giant blue metal structure, all angles and blank surfaces. I guess it works in its own way. But it is also isolated outside the city, with nothing else around it to see or do (unless you are a skateboarder, I suppose). It was still a ways off and as we plodded along the dusty walkway, we passed the excavation of the ancient Roman Circus which was interesting in itself to look at. When we finally got to the museum, a bus full of small children was disgorging its contents and although we beat them in to the building, they haunted us around the exhibits, their voices echoing along with their extremely loud efforts to shush each other.

Speaking of art, I also forgot to mention what was almost performance art, or at the least, social commentary art. We often would go down to the Rhone and walk along the wall from one end of the Old City to the other. One day, we spotted GOLD dog poop!

That's right, someone had collected a nice sampling of large breed dog poop, painted it gold and then reassembled it in at least three different locations along the wall. It made me laugh out loud when I saw the first batch of it and by the time we saw the third batch, it had become apparent that someone was making a statement. I thought it was fabulous and hilarious at the same time.

I did have to poke it with a stick to see if it was real on the inside and it was. I never knew if anyone else remarked on it or if it got written up in the local paper (was there a local paper?) but I applaud the efforts of the artist.

The next place I forgot to mention was also a bit outside of the walled city but you only had to cross the ring road boulevard to get there and it seemed more pedestrian-friendly. This was Les Alyscamps, an ancient burial ground from at least Roman times. According to my guide book, the Romans avoided the place at night so early Christians met there in secret. Vincent VanGogh also painted a picture of people strolling there in his time and there is even an "easel" set up with that painting on it, to show his vantage point (as there is at the Cafe au Nuit and the other places around Arles where VanGogh painted now famous scenes).

What I found interesting was the apparently discarded carved stone bits outside the church. The church itself is beautifully lit and serene and seems to be in the process of renovation. So maybe what appears to be pieces of Roman columns aren't supposed to be there. Maybe they'll be taken to the Museum of Antiquities later?

So, back to May 22. We went to the Foundation VanGogh , which was NOT on our museum pass. Many of the artists shown at the Foundation were asked to do an homage to Vincent in 1988 and these works are shown here. There are also a few pieces from before and after that year, done by other artists as an homage, and collected for the Foundation. I enjoyed seeing what artists would imagine as an homage and found it quite inspirational. It is a fairly small collection which can be seen in a short time and there are many things to buy when you leave, if you want.

Finally, we went to see what was at the Musee Reattu, since it was right across the street from our hotel. The museum was named for its owner back in the late 1800s, Mr. Reattu. There are many of his paintings there - he was a classically trained figurative artist who painted large allegories, among other things. But his bigger claim to fame was that he collected work from contemporary artists such as Picasso and so there is an eclectic mix of work there, including some very modern pieces collected by the museum as it now exists. The current exhibit shows the work of the couturier Christian Lacroix from the last 20 years or so. Some of the outfits were clearly runway fantasy pieces but I enjoyed examining the workmanship and appreciated the effort that went into creating each garment.

France 2008 - Arles, May 21, our anniversary

2008-06-24T16:46:00.000-04:00

Today is our 26th anniversary. We were supposed to go on our "big trip to Europe" for our 25th but this will do, now that we are here. It's a Wednesday and our map says there is another market on Wednesdays, only on a different section of the big ring road boulevard. We had already walked down that section, looking at the ancient walls of the city from the outside.

We had also came upon one of the cemeteries of the city and spent quite a while there, quietly walking around the many above-ground mausoleums. Some graves were obviously visited frequently but others had had no one come by in years. I have not been to New Orleans but it reminded me of that cemetery style, with everything in crypts.

This time, we decided to go straight to the market and get our breakfast there and much to our dismay, we found out this was a junk-only market with no food at all. By the time we discovered this, we were tired, cranky, and caffeine deprived so we walked back into the Old Arles and found a small "tabac" that sold cafe and croque monsieurs. I remembered croque monsieurs from my days in Belgium back on the 70s and they are still bread with some cheese and maybe something else on them. Not too exciting but better than no food.

We decided to do laundry, in spite of it being our anniversary. We had found a coin operated laundromat (laverie automatique) the previous week and had determined that we would do two laundries while we were in Arles, timing the second one so that we would have enough fresh clothes to get us through Paris and home again. This was Wednesday and our travel day to Paris was Friday so we figured it would be a good time. There really weren't enough shirts and underwear and socks to justify a full load but when you travel light, you do laundry when you can.

We got back to the laundry, after our late and unsuccessful breakfast and no one was there yet. You put your clothes in the chosen washer (a front loading machine) and then go buy the soap by hitting certain buttons on a wall mounted machine and then putting in the money it told you (30 cents). Then you choose your machine on the same gizmo and put that money in (3 Euros). Then you set your watch and go have a coffee or something in the Place Voltaire, which was very close by. By the time the laundry was done and we'd taken it back to the hotel to hang and fold, it was lunch time.

We had rediscovered where the fabric store was that I had seen on the first day we got to Arles and looked around. It was just off the Place Voltaire, heading away from the Arena and toward the old walls. After lunch (at which I fed the black Lab again), I left Peter in the Place having a glass of wine and I headed over to the fabric store where I took my time and bought 16 metres of fabric of different patterns - 2 of this, 4 of that. The woman cutting the fabric was very nice but she didn't speak any English so our conversation was a little limited. As she finished cutting the last few metres, I started looking around for a sign by the cash that said "Visa" and had a sinking feeling when I saw no such sign. I asked her if she took Visa and she looked at me surprised and said "of course not".

So I told her I would be right back with cash. She actually looked like she believed me - she didn't look worried. But I would have been worried if I were her, cutting all that fabric and then not being prepared to take plastic from an obvious tourist. Yikes. I literally ran back to the Place and found Peter chatting with some Americans. I gasped out that I needed 142 Euros and fast! He actually had the cash on him, so we didn't need to go to an instant teller.

I ran back to the store and paid for my purchase. I was relieved that she acted as if this was normal but I was amazed at the same time. I toted my fabric back to the Place and sat while Peter introduced me to what appeared to be a mother and daughter from the States. They were good friends, as the older woman's now late husband had taught the younger woman in high school. The younger woman was a chef and she was taking a working holiday by teaching cooking at a B&B in Arles for a few months and so the older woman was staying there too. They were very pleasant, tres gentil.

We stay for a while in the Place and then make our way back to the hotel to drop off the fabric and change for dinner. We decide to go back to La Gueule du Loup for a second meal, as the first one had been so wonderful. We discover the menu is the same so we order something different and enjoy it just as much. One of our desserts had lavender flavoured ice cream in it, something we had never had before. We toast ourselves - to another year.

France 2008 - Arles, May 20

2008-06-20T16:15:00.003-04:00

Some more observations:

Most cars and especially larger vans have scrapes and dents down the sides. Not so much on the fenders front and rear but the sides are often bashed in. It is not surprising, given the narrow streets, many bollards and the tendency of every driver to think he or she has the right of way at all times. There are many one-way streets but people park in them (only temporarily!) and two cars often don't fit abreast. They love their mobility but maybe they don't care so much about the car. Since they don't have the road salt issue we have in Canada, they must not get rust like we do, so they don't fix up the dents so readily. Interesting.

We were sitting as is our wont, in the Place du Forum and suddenly we were invaded by Les Anglais. About a dozen loud people arrive and promptly rearrange the patio furniture. The fat and old ones sit down, the others mill about. We ask our waiter, "hey, les Anglais sont faire du bruit. Q'est que c'est ce passe?" and he replied that they had been to a wedding recently and seemed to have enjoyed the local wine.

Another Place to hang out is the Place Voltaire, cheaper than the Place du Forum and with mature trees shading it. This is where we discover that the classic Clouseau line really does work in France!

We're sitting at a table having a substantial salad (7 Euros) and white wine for lunch. We notice a black Labrador (an un-neutered male) slowly walking around the tables. No collar, a bit of white at his muzzle, lovely brown eyes. He's not casing the joint, he's just looking for likely customers. I make eye contact but he seems to know that Peter has asked me not to feed him (right then, anyway) and so he walks off. (I was going to write "wander" but he has more purpose than that.)

Eventually I decide to give him a little crumb of baguette (after we have finished our meal - that was Peter's stipulation), after I see he has not got anything from other patrons. I make eye contact again with him when he is a few tables away and he slowly but deliberately walks over. I hold out a very small piece of bread and say, "asseyez-vous". He does not seem to know "tricks" and drool slowly drips from the back of his mouth. I give him the bread anyway. He politely takes it and eats it. I give him several more tiny pieces and ask him to sit each time, but he does not. Then I hold up my now empty hands and say "c'est tout" and he sits.

I take his photograph and he poses nicely for me. Then he gets distracted by some other people and I lean in for a close-up and I can almost hear him say "Yikes!" at the look of me, too close and with a camera in front of my face, so he gets up and moves on.

So polite! Si gentil!

So, now for the Clouseau line:
Clouseau, seeing a man with a nice looking dog, asks, "does your dog bite?"
Man, "No."
Clouseau pats dog who snarls and bites him.
Clouseau, "I thought you said your dog did not bite!"
Man, "That's not my dog."

France 2008 - Arles, May 19, evening - eating out

2008-06-17T16:15:00.003-04:00

When we got back to Arles Monday evening, we decided to try out a restaurant that Peter had noticed while we were walking one day, and which was mentioned in our "France for Dummies" guide book. Nothing is very far in Old Arles and this place was just across the big boulevard "ring road" where the market had been on Saturday. After a shower to wash off all the dirt that had blown on us from the day, we headed out only to find that this restaurant was closed. And it looked closed permanently, even though there was no sign one way or the other.

Momentarily nonplussed, Peter decided we should try out the hotel restaurant at the Jvles Cesar, as it too had been mentioned in the Dummies book and noted as one of the best restaurants on all of France, not just the south. We plodded up the road, hungry and tired and peered in the windows at the Jvles Cesar. It was only about half full and most people in there had ties on. The wait staff was dressed very properly in black and white. And the doors off the terrace where we had approached it were closed. We turned to see if we could access the restaurant from the hotel, when one of the doors opened and a waiter called out, "Bon soir, monsieur!" It turns out they had only closed the doors because of the ferocious winds and we would be more than welcome, tie or no tie.

We were seated at a nice table by the window and given menus. Descriptions of the food looked good and while expensive, it wasn't prohibitively so. We decided on the prix fixe, made our choices and ordered a bottle of wine. We had been trying to drink local wines exclusively and it is never difficult to find a delicious, reasonably priced bottle anywhere. Our waiter was quite chatty and spoke English very well. We noticed that everyone else in the room was an Anglo of some sort. The food was very good and nicely presented and when we made our choice for dessert and I selected a plate with four tiny, different things on it, they gave me extra. I'm not sure why - I think by then we had mentioned it was our 26th anniversary (in 2 days, actually) or maybe it was because I said "mmm" out loud a fair bit while downing the dessert.

I haven't been writing much about our meals but of course, we have to have three every day in restaurants of some description because the hotel does not allow you to bring food in. We have eaten breakfast several times in the hotel and it is a good one - with bread and eggs and fruit and coffee. But it seems expensive at 7 Euros each which is why we have tried the occasional cafe and croissant outside. But that isn't very satisfying, especially for me, as I like to have more at breakfast than at dinner (well, in theory, anyway). On Saturday, we had fruit and cheese at the market but (according to the map) there's only a market on Saturday and Wednesday.

Lunch can be a large and sustaining meal if you want to eat light at dinner. Most shops close down for about 2 hours from noon until 2 and the restaurants fill up. Some restaurants are only open in the morning and at lunch and some only open for the dinner crowd, so it helps to have scoped out some places ahead of time. And some restaurants are closed one or two days of the week. But there are many places to eat on Arles and if one is closed, another will be close by.

We had already had dinner once at La Gueule du Loup, as it had also been recommended by one of our books. It is a very small place with a few tables on the ground level, where you can watch the chef at work if you want. It has about 8 tables up a steep flight of ancient stone stairs and a small but attentive crew of wait staff. The menu is limited and probably changes weekly and the choices sound wonderful. And they are wonderful. Beautifully presented, interesting combinations of tastes, scrumptious.

What we've also taken to doing, especially if we have a light lunch and are waiting for restaurants to open for dinner, is to find a cafe in the late afternoon, to while away our time until dinner. There are many of them around of course, but we seem to have settled on the cafes surrounding the Place du Forum as the best place for people watching. I am sure the Place had a more important past but now, its main claim to fame seems to be the cafe that Vincent painted one evening: Le Cafe au Nuit Right beside that cafe (now painted up in yellow to resemble the VanGogh painting) is one owned by a former bull fighter. The centre of the Place is filled with tables and chairs and different sections of them are serviced by the restaurants and cafes that line the Place. I think the clientele of the entire Place is tourists, unlike some of the other cafes in Arles that are more obviously populated by local people. But as long as it is not time for a meal, they don't seem to mind if you sit there for hours having a small pichet of wine, while you take pictures and write in your notebook.

France 2008 - road trip, May 19

2008-06-15T19:37:00.001-04:00

Monday, we rented a car. We had planned on taking local transport out of Arles for the day but with train strikes making for uncertainty, we decided to splurge on renting a car. We just showed up Monday morning at the Avis place at the train station and what they had left was a mid-sized Peugeot. It turned out to be a standard transmission which is not a problem for either of us but it was also a diesel. We knew there was something tricky about starting a diesel but we figured, "how hard could it be?"

Thirty minutes in the parking lot later, we had to go ask the rental lady how to start the darned thing. (The reason it took 30 minutes is because she wasn't there when went back 5 minutes later after we first got the keys.) She took the keys, locked the car with the remote, unlocked it, got in, put the key in, put it in neutral but did NOT step on the clutch, turned the key one notch, waited for a light to come on and then turned the key a second time. We had tried a lot of that but not in that particular order.

We were off! We both enjoy driving but Peter likes the challenge of driving in foreign places (he was the one who wanted to drive on the wrong side of the road in Barbados), so I let him do the driving. Also, if he drove, that meant I got to drink at lunch. Bonus! We headed out into the Camargue, retracing part of our route from the day before with Alan. This time, we got to see horses from the comfort of an air-conditioned car with a suspension system. The day was clear and very warm but the most notable feature of the weather was the WIND. We don't have proof but we think there were sustained winds of over 50 kph and gusts much more than that. I wore a skirt and spent most of the day holding it down with both hands.

Our first stop was breakfast at a road-side cafe, where we merely had the usual cafe and croissant. There was also the usual family dog on the premises, this time sitting in the window, placidly looking around and then having a snooze. I find that most of the dogs in France are the calmest dogs I have ever seen, many of the large ones allowed to wander around without even the benefit of a collar. I don't know if it is just because all the other ones get run over or something, or maybe it is something about the French dog owners, that they are real pack leaders. But the dogs are very well behaved.

Our next stop was Aigues-Mortes, begun in 102 BC and rebuilt in the 13th century by Louis IX. It was used as the embarkation point for the Seventh and Eighth crusade and it was in our Eyewitness Guide book, so we went. Also a walled city like Old Arles, this one has the wall still all the way around it. In other respects however, it was very much like Old Arles except the streets were on a grid. By the time we got there, we were starting to think about lunch, so we just looked around a little and then pushed on.

I had been thinking of visiting Nimes since we started planning this trip, because I read in the Eyewitness book that it was where denim fabric had been invented (fabric "de Nimes", get it?). Plus, I read that Nimes was the home of many of the true Provencal fabrics and I wanted to shop! However, by the time we drove up to the outskirts and saw that it was really a huge looking modern city, and by the time we had been around about a hundred different roundabouts, each with about 5 or more exits, and we realized that we were driving along at 70 kph on the ring road, we decided to bail and not visit Nimes after all. I had seen a fabric store right in Old Arles and said to Peter, "keep going, we don't need to stop."

Our next goal was the Pont du Gard.

How anyone can fail to be impressed by the engineering feat that is this aqueduct, I am sure I do not know. The Pont du Gard is the longest "bridge" in the 50 km long aqueduct that brought 5 million litres of water every day to the Roman city of Nimes from the source at Uzès. Some stones weigh nearly 6 tons. The slope of the 50 km water run averages 34 cm of drop for every 1 km of run. That's about 17 metres drop for the entire length of the aqueduct. And all without a slide rule or theodolite. 2000 years later, parts of it are still standing. I would love to transport the engineer responsible forward in time and show it to him now.

You are allowed to climb up the side of the hill and look at the aqueduct from the top, where the water ran. It's wonderful.

When we got to the Pont, we had lunch first, as we were starving and there was a really nice looking restaurant right on the bank of the river. It was a little more expensive than your average restaurant but you couldn't beat the view.

Here's Peter taking a picture of some tourists with their own camera - probably the best picture they have of their entire trip. That patio umbrella is down because of the huge winds. You just can't tell at ALL from these pictures but the wind was amazing. We spent a good couple of hours here and then moved on to Avignon.

The driving was good and there are lots of signs and we had a map, so we never got lost. We even took the toll road at one point, to get from Nimes to the Pont without having to slow down every kilometer for yet another roundabout. They are in fact really useful, those roundabouts (rond point) because you don't have an intersection with stop lights and so you just have to slow down, figure out which exit to take, merge and you're continuing on your merry way, but they do get wearing after a while if your goal is a town and not the journey.

We arrived in Avignon and decided to enter the walled city with the car, driving slowly into yet another Old Arles. We were certainly familiar with this sort of old street network as pedestrians and dodging cars, but it is another thing altogether to drive in there. We finally stopped and asked some police where we could park and they said "outside of the walls" so we drove out. Luckily, we found a long, narrow parking lot sandwiched between the river, a main ring road and the wall and it was free! It was also packed but just as we crept down the long line of cars, someone left and we pulled right into their space. AND it was right by a recently-made (as in modern and not 500 years old) pedestrian entrance in the wall.

We walked into Avignon and consulted the map in the Eyewitness Guide. We weren't on the map. The main reason to visit Avignon, other than to "danse sur le pont" as in the children's song, is to see the Palais des Papes. There were 7 French popes from 1309-77 and they built a grand place for themselves, indeed. Talk about a seat of power that let everyone else know about it. The Palais is way up on a steep hill that looks down on the river and it's built like a fortress. When we walked into Avignon, off the map, it was easy to see that we had to go UP and to our right but we weren't sure which was the best route to take.

So when we walked past a woman sitting out on her steps, having a smoke, we stopped to ask for advice. We thought we were being polite when we started by saying, "excusez moi, Madame" but apparently, she didn't think so. After Peter asked what was the best way to get up to the Palais, she didn't answer for enough time that I immediately got that she was about to make a point. Then she looked at us with contempt and said, "Bonjour." Yeah, okay, we get it. Much bad language ensued in my head but I stifled it and said, "bonJOUR" back. Dumbass. She waved in the direction of the giant and obvious mountain to our right and said something like "that-a-way", and before I could say something I'd regret, I plucked at Peter's sleeve and said, "let's go!" I was seething at the first (and almost only) rude treatment we'd had from a local but Peter had been too busy concentrating on getting his French right at the time, to notice.

Unfortunately, that set the tone for what we think about Avignon, not to mention the ostentatious display of religious power-mongering by the long-dead popes. We finally made it up the hill and there was the Palais. We went inside and whatever it cost to see the whole thing was too much for me, especially given that it was late in the afternoon and I was getting tired (and obviously cranky). So we hung around the outside in the hot sun and ferocious wind for a bit and finally I said, "let's go have a drink!"

As the DD, Peter had to have coffee but I had a much welcomed glass of wine (okay, "whine"). We chose the patio of a very nice-looking hotel for our stop and it wasn't until after we sat down at a table at random that I noticed their planters had herbs growing in them! Lovely. I felt better right away, even if the drinks were hideously expensive and the bathroom cost 0.20 Euros to get into a stall.

We check out the map and leave the walled city by an exit right near the historic Pont d'Avignon. Peter had never been taught the song but I remember it (at least the verse) from - it must be - kindergarten or grade one, when we lived in Quebec City. The bridge doesn't go all the way across the river but it was originally built by a shepherd boy who later became Saint Benezet. It fell down a lot and by the 1600s, they stopped rebuilding it. The only access to it is through this building beside it, where you have to pay 4 Euros to go dance on it. I decide to "danse sur le trottoir" instead, and we fight out way back toward the car park against the wind. Halfway there, we notice some steps leading up to the Palais des Papes from the level of the river (we are walking along the very busy ring road outside the walls).

I figure the steps have to be blocked off at the top because everywhere else, they were charging entrance fees but we decide to climb them anyway. We finally get to the top, where the wind must be blowing at 60 kph at least and discover that we can wander around the top of the Palais des Papes and take in the terrific view of the surrounding area for free. I count the steps on the way down and discover there are exactly 200 of them. Now I feel like Avignon has been worth the visit.

By the time we get back to the car and on the road home, it is rush hour and we stop and start our way out of the city. We finally hit the open road and head back to Arles, tired and wind-blown but satisfied over-all with our road trip. We drop the car back at Avis at 6:30 pm, where the office is still open and we express our thanks to the rental lady. It is only after we get home and the Visa bill that we discover that the car has cost us $240 Cdn for the day. Of course, that included gas.

France 2008 - the Camargue, May 18

2008-06-13T16:53:00.000-04:00

Sunday, we went on a safari.
We bought our tickets on Saturday, while we were down at the market. We went over to the info booth and asked about seeing the Camargue. One of my stated goals on going to Provence was to pet one of the white horses in the Camargue. We had seen pamphlets about going there but there seemed to be many variations on a theme and it was a bit confusing. We asked the woman at the info place to choose for us and she said she wasn't allowed to but then she did suggest we try the one called "Gallon". We got our tickets and she phoned the company and we heard her say there were two "Anglais" to pick up Sunday morning at 9.

We arrive at the meeting spot at 8:40 and wait for 9, watching the young "gypsies" (I'm not sure if they really were gypsies or just young people hanging out) with their four large black dogs. It looked like they had spent the night in the relative shelter of the large public bandstand or gazebo near the Info Centre. One young guy take three of the dogs, one of them not on a leash, and walks over to some bushes where they can relieve themselves. The dogs seem friendly and the one not on a leash is older and wags his tail a lot. I figure how bad can these folks be, with such nice dogs?

Right at 9 am, a Land Rover shows up and this man, older than we are, climbs out wearing leather pants, a leather jacket and a neck gaiter. He later explains that he had been running late so he just jumped on his motorcycle to get to where the LandRover was. His name is Alan, he is 61, he used to work for a pharmaceutical company and he speaks English, French, German and Farsi (at least).

It turns out we are the only people on this particular safari and boy are we glad because, although there are three seats on each side of the open back of the Land Rover, the only way you could fit 6 people in there would be if they were small children. We take off for the Camargue in a clash of gears, with Alan talking to us by turning right around to look at us sitting in the back of the Rover. It's a little nerve-wracking to start, with him not looking where he is driving but he isn't really driving that fast and he seems to know what he is doing. He reminds me of Lee Marvin with the short white hair, Hollywood smile and attitude.

After our initial wariness wears off and my bullshit meter dies down, we find him entertaining, straightforward and honest. He explains about bulls and bullfighting and the horses and birds but most of all, about the rice. Rice fields, rice paddies, crop rotation, wild rice, NOT organic ("biologique") rice, etc. etc. We make a detour to see a real monastery and come upon a monk in robes and rope belt, strolling down the road. I like to think it was not on cue. Alan stops to talk to him and by the conversation, it is far from a silent order and they do seem to know each other. A farmer approaches them and he has a large herding dog with him - the same size as an Anatolian shepherd but hairier. That breaks up the conversation and we move on.

Around the next bend, we see a large flock of sheep and one lamb looks right at us, its ears pink with back lighting. We travel mostly off-road but on the paved roads, we are asked to not stand up in the back and at least to pretend to have our seat belts on. I put mine on but Peter's is all tangled and he doesn't worry about it. The dirt roads are rough, with plenty of large potholes from Saturday's rain storm. I wonder if we have an accident, will he have the presence of mind to try to dive out of the open roof, or will he try to save his camera at the expense of his own life? I can see the headlines: "Canadian man killed in road accident while on holiday in France, widow has lots of nice pictures to remember him by."

Alan stops at the first white horses we pass (all animals are fenced in - we never saw any real wild bulls or horses), and fetches a large bag of really stale baguette slices out of the Rover and the horses run right up to the fence looking for the familiar treat. I get to pet two of them and feed them bread and they seem completely tame and domestic. A couple of horses hang back in the field but they have foals with them. Like the Lipizzaners, the foals are born dark and turn white as they get older. I am so pleased that I got to pat some horses that I had not thought about how filthy my hands would be and how I wouldn't necessarily have access to any place I could wash. I try to keep my hands away from every other part of me.

In a little while we pass a herd of the black bovines and Alan stops to explain about bulls. The Spanish bulls weigh about 500 kilos and the horns go downwards. The Camargue bulls weigh about 300 kilos and the horns go out and upwards. The neutered ones are oxen and can be used to keep the bulls calm when they are moved from one field to another. A lot depends on the manager who rents the bulls out for the fights. He gets a reputation for more entertaining fights - or less entertaining - depending on which bulls he chooses to put in the arena. And they rent bulls because most of the bull fighting in southern France tends to be bloodless.

It's an expensive business, with matadors getting 100,000 Euros for the fight and bulls costing 10,000 Euros (or rented at 1,000 Euros for the 15 minutes of the fight). Reputation becomes everything. One local bull named Rami was particularly famous and when he died, his owner buried him on his land with a stone obelisk and a marble plaque with gold lettering. Alan took us to this grave and we saw the owner's own grave a few hundred metres away with a less ostentatious headstone than the bull.

We went to a "domaine" where they had what Alan called "an ugly arena" made of aluminum (bleachers, really). It existed for tourists and they had a little but real train to tour you around the property. We didn't go on it. They also had plenty of white horses to rent but we didn't ride them either. I wasn't concerned that we didn't ride any of the horses - I have ridden horses and prefer to do it with proper gear. All the horses we saw looked well cared for, and the bulls too. They had public washrooms and here is where I finally got to wash my horsey hands.

We stopped at Les Maries de la Mer church on the Mediterranean. It is named for the four Marys that were expelled from the holy land after Jesus died. It is another lovely Romanesque church with a lot of history. Many gypsies live at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer and beg for money or offer to read your palm or sell you things. Alan told us to beware of the gypsies stealing things and told me to wear my little backpack on my front, which I did. But we were only approached by one old woman and she only persisted through several "non, merci" with lots of smiles on our part. For all that they criticize gypsies around here, there is a monument to the 700 of them rounded up in the Camargue in the early 1940s, who were then sent off to die in Hitler's camps.

We passed quite a few other tourists and bird watchers, stopped by the side of the road. Alan would roll his window down and call out the window in an American accent, "Bone jur, bone jur, c'est tres beaucoup jolie!" He was always greatly amused by himself when he did this and frankly, it was pretty funny for us too. I finally asked him why he did this and he said he wanted them to think he was a tourist who had stolen the Land Rover.

We didn't get back to Arles until about 2pm so we surely got our money's worth from that safari. It cost 48 Euros per person for what was described as a four hour tour. I suppose with a less entertaining guide and poor weather, we might have thought it not worth quite so much but we had a great time.

France 2008 - Arles, May 17

2008-06-12T13:00:00.001-04:00

Saturday, we went to the market. It was advertised right on the map of Arles, that they had a market every Saturday and Wednesday so we decided to see what there was to see. Wow! All along the Boul. des Lices was a market and the traffic was stopped. (This is part of the "ring road" that goes around Old Arles on the sides away from the river. It's all one big road but is broken into three different names.) On one side was all the food stuff and on the other side was everything else.

To have a great look at the market, go to Peter's set at Flickr and enjoy. The food side was especially impressive, with large vans where the sides opened up to vans where things were being cooked right in front of you, in one case, on giant wok-like surfaces.

We have been having breakfast at the hotel and enjoying it but thought we should try something different. On the way to the market, we stopped in the Place du Forum (where VIncent's cafe is and where we stop a lot) and had a cafe and a croissant. When you ask for a cafe you get an espresso. For any other kind of coffee, you have to specify. The shop with the cafe didn't have anything to eat but referred us two doors down to the bakery where we bought something and then went back to the cafe to eat it.

By the time we got to the market, it had been open for some time and the place was packed. But real Arlesiennes were doing their shopping and while busy, people were in constant motion so it was easy enough to wander around. So much wonderful looking food! I got hungry right away and so we stopped at different places to buy a bag of cherries, half a baguette and some soft cheese. We stepped away from the steady stream of patrons and sat on a half wall and ate our finds. Mmm.

The other side of the street had everything but food, including a young man with three miniature goats who wasn't selling them but just using them as a draw to get you to buy outrageously priced candy to support some cause. Near the end of the line were some folks selling Provencal fabrics. I bought a few meters but worried that it wasn't "authentic". On the other hand, it was nice so who cares?

I have noticed that there seems to be a hierarchy of greeting. If you don't know someone but are introduced by someone you both know, you shake hands. If you know the person and have seen them recently, you kiss each other twice. But if you know someone and haven't seen them for a while, you kiss each other three times. This is just a theory on my part, but I like it.

France 2008 - Arles, May 16

2008-06-10T12:46:00.002-04:00

When we planned on spending 9 days in Arles, we thought we would get out of the city almost every day, to go see somewhere else in the area, like Aix and Avignon and Nimes. Having arrived late on Wednesday, we thought by Friday we would take our first day trip. But we seemed content to stay, even in the small Old Arles and just walk around and see what was there. So we bought a museum pass which allowed for entry into 8 different museums or sites and since it was raining on Friday, we decided to start looking at them then.

We bought the museum pass at the information booth at the train station but you can get them in many other spots, including the museums themselves. We started at the ancient Roman Arena, built about 90AD having been first carved out of the hillside. Imagine walking on stones where people had trod 2000 years before you. Giant stone steps led up to the top of the arena and there was a medieval tower which stood even higher that gave a great view of the city. I could feel the steps in my quads the next day.

There was some restoration going on. I wasn't sure if they were doing more than just cleaning the stone of the 50 years or so of internal combustion engine pollution. I am thinking that someone should ban driving most cars in Old Arles, as the pollution is ruining everything including my lungs. But what political will would that take?

The day before, we had been to St. Trophime, the church on the Place de la Revolution which was started in the 1100s. It was the first, truly old building that Peter had ever encountered, given that he had only travelled in North America prior to this. It was wonderful to watch him grasp the fact that the paving stones in this still operational church had been laid 800 years before he got there. The main nave columns were Romanesque which is a style that I find serene and calm. The apse and side chapels had more Gothic arches, as they were built later. One side chapel was barred off with ornate iron work and contained more reliquaries than you could shake a stick at. I saw femurs in one of them!

Even as impressive as an 800 year old church is, it's hard to beat walking up the steps in an arena that is still being used, where people had walked 2000 years before.

Later, we went to the Musee Arlatan, established by local poet Frederic Mistral after he won the Nobel prize for poetry in 1905. For years, he had collected artifacts of local culture and when he won the prize, he turned his family home (itself old and built on Roman ruins) into a museum.

We looked up some other museums on our pass but found that they were closed for construction or renovation, which explains the discount we got when we bought the pass. We are staying at the Hotel du Musee which is directly opposite the Musee Reattu, named for some fellow I am sorry I never heard of, who himself painted but also collected Picasso. We still have not visited it and are saving it for when we have run out of other things to do. In fact, they are busy setting up an exhibit of a local and still living artist (a couturier) Christian Lacroix and have been having parties in advance to celebrate the opening.

France 2008 - Arles, May 15

2008-06-09T11:58:00.003-04:00

We decide to wander around Old Arles and just look at things. This is a holiday after all and we don't intend to see or do everything that there is to see and do. While it's not quite a "sit on the beach and read paperbacks" type of holiday, we do want to relax and just BE.

(Outside the walls)
Old Arles is distinct from the rest-of-Arles. It was a walled city and remnants of the walls are apparent here and there. It is also surrounded by large, busy, noisy, boulevards which run outside where the walls used to be. We get a map from our hotel that appears to be schematic but which is very accurate and it is impossible to get lost. (They give out these maps at the information centres and everywhere.) It turn out that you can walk across Old Arles in about 15 minutes if you don't stop to look at anything. But we always stopped to look at everything.

We walk to the Place de la Republique where some civil servants (I think they are teachers) are having a demonstration complete with loud speakers, flags, drums and a faux coffin. It makes for an interesting photo shoot for Peter and reminds us of the probability of strikes. I remember Europe in the 70s when any excuse for a strike was used, especially in Italy. Apparently, people are annoyed with Sarkozy's attempts to change the system. We aren't very concerned until we realize that rail travel can be stopped with strikes, but even that worked out for us in the end.

(Along the top of the wall.)
We walk along the bank of the Rhone, on top of huge walls that have very steep and very narrow steps leading down to the water. There are about 40 steps at a 60% angle with no railings and apparently, no traffic, as weeds flourish in the cracks. I am not sure who would use these old steps or why - there are other places with better access to the water, where giant tour boats tie up.

At one point along our walk, we see a second level of walkway, below the main travelled (paved) portion of the wall. It too was paved but there are so many weeds growing through the pavement that it looks grassy now. This reminds us that we have seen no lawns in Old Arles. Looking down at the green walkway, we see more piles of dog poop than you would believe possible. I would not walk there as a person - there was hardly a clear space to put a foot, much less a paw. Some time later, we did see a woman walking a large white dog down there. She took the dog off the leash and let him pick his own way through the mess. I am grateful for the daily street sweepers that pick up all this excrement on the streets where we usually walk, but I wonder if people could be persuaded to pick up after their pets if perhaps they made some advertising showing a famous and otherwise "cool" celebrity picking up dog poop. I wonder.

I saw a bat last night and wondered what they call it in French, so we asked our tres gentile waiter and he said it is called a chauvesouris. Now I just ran that through my translator and it came out "bald person mouse". Hmm. In German it is "fledermaus" or some such spelling. In both languages, the bat is described as a type of mouse, even though we know it is not a rodent.

Then we were looking for the French word for "confused", as we often are on this trip so far. We ask a different waitress at a different restaurant and say in our very Anglo-French, "what is the word for - I don't know what is going on - or, I'm a little bit stupid". She recoiled from the word "stupide" which I'm now thinking must be a real insult. Later we came up with the word "deranger" which is deranged in English and which about sums it up.

France 2008 - Arles, May 14

2008-06-06T13:57:00.003-04:00

Arrive at 6 pm, try to use the bathroom at the train station and both are out of order. The map says we are very close but we get a cab anyway because we aren't sure and we have to pee. Should have gone on the train but the toilet there was in a horrible state. Turns out it is less than a 10 minute walk away (we checked it later) but anyway, we had to pee.

We checked into the Hotel du Musee and get a much bigger room than the closet where we stayed in Paris our first night. Very picturesque, lots of plants in open courtyards, overhanging rambling roses on the exterior stairs on the way up. No elevator but we only have to walk up two flights.

We stagger out to get a real dinner, as we have not had one of the prix fixe menus we have heard about and we missed lunch effectively and are starving. We walk around a fair bit and get disoriented. We choose a place that turns out to be a 5 minute walk from the hotel, when we eventually finish dinner and return to our room. It is on a street (Rue du Docteur Fanton) we realize has three very nice restaurants in a row and later, we try them all. This first night however, we are still new to France and to Arles so we choose one, "Les Oliviers Sont Bleus", based on the plants shielding the patrons from the traffic, which thankfully is light.

The menu has two sides: one says "Carte" and the other "Menu 25 euros", so we figure it is the prix fixe. There are two sections on the prix fixe and each section has about 7 or 8 items on it. We try to translate all the different items to figure out if they fall into a class and eventually decide that you choose one section or the other and get all 7 items. This sounds extravagant now, but at the time, we had just finished reading Peter Mayle's book and he talked about the many course dinners and how the Provencals love their food so we figured 7 items for dinner wasn't a stretch. I also think we were still suffering from jet lag.

Both sections have a "tartare" item of which I am wary - one is thon or tuna and the other is beef (cut by hand, "hache la main"). I have eaten beef tartare once and prefer most meat cooked to break down the fibre. When the very young (and we later discover, Italian) waiter comes to ask for our order, I point to the top section on the prix fixe and say, "je voudrais cet chose" and Peter says, "le meme pour moi". We also order an Appellation controle Minervois, a blend of Syrah and Grenache grapes, for only 17 euros, a bargain!

Our food comes, starting (we think) with some cold layered vegetables (I identify zucchini and eggplant) with brie in the layers and diced red pepper in the sauce. we later realize this is the Terrine de Provencal vegetables. It is accompanied by a mix of lettuce and other leaves in a nice vinagrette and slices of baguette. After we do everything but lick the plate and scarf down the dozen black olives that were on the table when we arrived, we wait with anticipation for what we think will be the second of the many dishes but nothing happens. Eventually a young female waiter brings us the dessert menu and now we really get confused. The dessert menu says "6 euro" and we look at each other and say, "wait a minute! We paid 25 euro for some limp eggplant and now we have to pay 6 euro for dessert?"

We get the waiter's attention and try to figure it all out. It turns out (of course) that you choose one item from the top section - that's your appetizer - and one from the second section - your main course. Then you also get dessert included in the 25 euros. We felt embarrassed but for some reason the female waiter seems even more embarrassed and Peter said she turned quite red. We then order something from the main course part of the menu and I cant even remember what we had but I do remember it was tasty.

At this point, we notice the couple beside us is watching us, amused because we don't seem upset about any of the mix-up. We try to explain that we were confused (we don't know the word for that) and then Peter says in English, "I'm sorry, I didn't get the memo!" This cracks us up and we have to take some time to compose ourselves. For all that we may have seemed like idiot tourists, we had a fun time in spite of it.

They turn out to be an older couple from Switzerland, touring the area on bicycles. She speaks English, French and German but he mostly just speaks German but understands French. He speaks German to Peter who understands it perfectly and we women round things out with French and English and so we manage to have a polyglot conversation that is a lot of fun, even if tiring. We finally finish our dessert (creme caramel, I believe, what else?) and stagger back to the hotel with turns out to be completely quiet and dark, in total contrast to our Paris hotel. Small screaming birds (swifts or swallows) wake us up at about 4:30 am when the sun starts to make its presence felt.

France 2008 - travel day, May 14

2008-06-05T14:14:00.002-04:00

After a rough night in which people outside in the narrow street under our hotel window yelled at each other for hours, we had a nice petit dejeuner complet (I think that's what it was called - it had eggs, in any event) at the Bistro where we had our first beer. We had purchased tickets for the TGV (Train a Grande Vitesse) on the internet and our departure time was 1 pm so we had the morning to kill. We decided to walk across the Seine and have a look at the University in the Latin Quarter on the other side.

As we walked onto the bridge, I noticed two young women standing on a sort of pedestrian island. Later, we determined that on the left side of the wide bridge were two dedicated bus/taxi lanes that went in both directions. One of the women didn't look where she was going and stepped out onto the two lanes, right into the path of a taxi. The side of the car clipped her hand and spun her around and she fell forward onto the street. The taxi never even slowed down and didn't stop. Even if the pedestrian was at fault, it seems odd to me that the car wouldn't even stop.

Her friend screamed and traffic continued to go by while the woman who was hit got up and walked over to the main sidewalk at the side of the bridge where she had been headed. She had scraped her knees in the fall and she was nursing her hand which may very well have been broken in the impact, but otherwise, she seemed okay. A bus coming in the other direction stopped and a helpful woman got off and talked to the young women. We decided they had enough help and we didn't need to interfere so we kept on walking. But it was a bit of a shock and we weren't even involved.

It turns out that the Museum of Natural History is on the other side of the Seine at that bridge. We wandered around and looked at sculptures of dinosaurs and then headed up the busy, noisy road that runs along the river - the Quai Saint-Bernard. It seems the French love their cars and they zoom around in them all day, everywhere. There is never a lull in the traffic and I'm not sure if there are emission controls either. I sneezed regularly all the time we were in Paris. So we walked up the Quai and suddenly noticed what looked like pens behind the wall on our left as we were walking. It occurred to us that this might be a sort of zoo, when we spotted an Emu and then some other animals and finally ran across the sign that indicated it was indeed a Parc Zoologique. I mean, it's on the map, but we hadn't noticed.

By then, we'd had enough of cars and headed back to check out and trudge over to the Gare de Lyon where we were to catch the TGV. It was way early but I had a fear about missing this train that we'd paid big bucks for tickets in advance, so Peter indulged me and even though the train wasn't due to leave until 1 pm, we were there with our bags at 11 am. sigh. Sorry about it dude. So what do you do when you get to the station early and there are NO seats in the public areas? You sit down at the restaurant and have - you guessed it! a beer! We nursed that thing for over an hour until they finally started setting tables for lunch and then we felt we should move on.

The station itself is very pleasant to look at and I think I studied it (or one just like it) lo those many years ago when I took art history. It was quite the feat of architecture to span a huge open space like that, covering many tracks for the trains to come in and be under shelter. There was a large board with all the incoming and departing trains information on it and it was updated every few moments. Most of the trains left right on schedule, especially the TGV. Ours boarded about 10 minutes early and left right to the second, when it was due to.

The train journey itself was uneventful and the trains go so fast and I had had so little sleep the night before, that I fell asleep on the train and missed some lovely scenery. We changed trains to a regular local in Lyon and because we had a bit of time there between trains, we got a late lunch which consisted of a baguette sandwich with tomatoes and slices of brie. I don't ever remember having a brie sandwich in North America! Next stop - Arles.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

2008-06-04T13:46:00.002-04:00

Still the afternoon and fading into evening:
In retrospect, our first day in France was totally successful. After we arrived, we got on the right train, made the right connexions ('correspondence'), walked short distances, found the hotel first try, had beer. At 4 pm we got up after a much needed nap and set out to see what see could see. Our hotel was on a tiny street called Rue d'Austerlitz, off the Rue de Bercy. We oriented ourselves using the Rue de Bercy and headed west toward a canal off the Seine, between the Boulevards Bourdon and de la Bastille.

We saw lots of activity and canvas awnings lining both sides of the canal but when we went to walk down what appeared to be a sort of flea market lining the canal wall, a man stopped us and asked for 8 Euros each as an entrance fee. I still don't know if Peter was acting innocent or jet lagged or just being provocative but the first word out of his mouth was, "Pourquoi?" and this just cracked up the entrance guy. He said the equivalent of "Good one!" and let us in for free. I have no idea if this tactic would ever work again.

It turns out it was like a flea market and everybody in there was selling something, from paintings to books to huge pieces of furniture.

Here I am, pretending to look at picture frames. Every tenth vendor had their dog with them, some snoozing in little baskets under tiny cafe tables.

Later, we walk further west, into the Marais district and have a beer at a cafe, to rest and look at the map. We finish our very small draft ('pression') beers (at 250 ml, not very big at all) and continue on, just looking at things. Finally, we stop at yet another cafe, this time for a glass of real French wine (not to be confused with that stuff we get at the LCBO). It sounds like all we're doing so far is drinking but don't forget we were terribly dehydrated on the flight over.

We people watch and develop our theory of the Parisien. Peter takes a photo of a woman with a small black dog of indeterminate breed and she comes over to chat with us. She only speaks French and so we have a real conversation entirely in French with a real Parisienne. It turns out she is from Normandy, but she has lived in Paris for the last 30 years so I count that as being Parisienne. We are amazed by how our French comes back to us and how we are able to make ourselves understood. If Peter can't think of a word, sometimes I do or we just describe whatever it is in other words. No one seems to mind that we lapse into English in order to think through what we want to say and then launch back into high school French. We speak slowly, with a smile, make an effort and are rewarded by Parisiens being nice to us.

Finally, it's time for dinner so we find a place that looks inviting and have something light - not a whole three course meal or anything. It's still light even at 9 pm. I don't remember where we walked exactly but we ended up walking alongside the Seine. Apparently we walked fairly far west because when we turned to walk home, we were past the Ile Saint-Louis (the one without Notre Dame) and so we stopped there for coffee and dessert. And met an American woman artist who struck up a conversation with us, which was quite friendly. She was from New York City but spent a lot of time in Paris. She wondered where were we from since we seemed to be mangling both English and French (not what she said! but what I felt was happening). We told her it was the jet lag and we were Canadian, so that explained a lot.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

2008-06-03T16:02:00.003-04:00

Afternoon:
After our much-needed nap that wasn't nearly long enough, we change and walk out onto the streets of Paris. I have lived in Europe (but a long time ago) but this was Peter's first trip and our first trip together so it was all new and good. We had a map of the city and just decided to walk in one direction and then another, covering some of the Marais in the 3rd and 4th Arrondissements.

I start developing a theory of Parisiens, working against the stereotype that they are rude. Of course, you get rude people wherever you go but my generalisations lead me to a theory that Parisiens just "Do". They don't ask permission, they don't say "do you mind if...", they only obey the rules if they must (and the rules make sense). However, they do say "excusez moi" If they bump into you and they say "Bonjour" when you enter their shops. What I don't feel is an overweening sense of entitlement that I sometimes get in North America.

Peter opines that because they live in a large, congested city (he has been reading up on Paris and it has the greatest population density of any European city, according to "France for Dummies" which we left there, rather than carry it home so I can't look it up), they have limited resources and just want to make things work. If officious people came along all the time and told them not to park on the sidewalk for just five minutes, the level of frustration would explode. When they do park on the sidewalk to unload something, they don't expect anyone to accommodate them. They just do what they have to and move on. And yet, we don't see people taking advantage of lack of rule enforcement, maybe because they know the few could spoil it for the many.

Unfortunately, my laissez-faire opinion of them to the good does not extend to their resolute refusal to even acknowledge that their dogs poop. I have watched them (and the Brits too, I must say) stand and stare at anything but their dog while their dog poops and then nonchalantly stroll away leaving the evidence behind. Of course some people do this in North America but more people pick up I think than not, judging by the evidence. It is likely one reason that they have street sweepers out every day. The street sweepers really do keep the place clean and that's appreciated. But I wonder if that's why dog owners don't pick up - because they can get away with it.

As for this bit of evidence, not only do I not know how it got up there, but I would guess the motorized street sweepers didn't get it the next morning.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

2008-06-03T13:21:00.002-04:00

Arrival:
We get in to Charles deGaulle at about 8 am on the red-eye (there's a reason they call it that) and after a very disorganized shuffle through Customs, we find the train that will take us into downtown Paris. 8 Euro each and you can transfer to the Metro when you get downtown. Every square inch of vertical space beside the tracks is covered in graffiti. Disgruntled youths, perhaps. Certainly not budding artists. We watch the place names go by while we are still above ground and marvel that we are indeed, in France. Le Bourget, Aulnay-sous-Bois, La Plaine Stade de France. There were others but only the local trains stop there and now I don't see them on the map and I didn't write them down.

We change trains to get on the Metro and end up at the Gare de Lyon. Our choice of lightish weight backpacks proves to be a good one. We manage to find the right exit, based on where we think our hotel is and narrowly miss choosing to go in the wrong direction based on street names. For a moment, we thought we had to cross the Seine and it was our skepticism that that should be the case that made us look at the Metro neighbourhood map one more time. There are maps of the 'hood outside each Metro stop and they are handy for getting yourself oriented. It would be more helpful if there was an indication of North on the pavement outside the Metro because there are often multiple exits. I got this idea from a New Yorker who said they had a sort of contest to elicit ideas for improving the subway and that was one of them. It never was implemented, but what a good idea.

We come up from underground and blink in the bright sunlight. Get out the map and stumble the 5 minutes to our hotel on sore and swollen ankles (mine, anyway). Find out that the rooms are not available yet as checkout is 11am and they have to be cleaned which will take until about 1pm. We leave our packs at the Hotel Gare de Lyon and stumble back around the corner to a tiny bistro. By then it is nearing noon and I rationalize that I am so dehydrated and jet-lagged and in need of something sustaining that we order our first beer in Paris. Mmm, beer.

We sit and drink beer and observe. There is a Velib stand right down the sidewalk and we watch as some people stop or start from there and many more whiz by on the narrow but busy street. This is our "recover from jet lag" day so we don't have ambitions to see much of Paris before we take off for Arles tomorrow. We finally go back to the hotel where our room is ready and have a shower in one of the world's smallest showers. At least we have a bathroom in our room, I am thankful for that bit of planning and extra splurge. We collapse on the bed and sleep for the next few hours, having set an alarm so we don't sleep too much.

France 2008 - travel tip 2

2008-06-01T11:42:00.002-04:00

UPGRADE. Sure, it's $2000 more than economy but you're worth it, right?
I had forgotten the (literal) pain of a flight longer than 4 hours, sitting in economy. And I think they have moved the seats closer together (front to back) compared with my last long flight across the Atlantic in 1996, and they were tight back then. I could not bend forward to untie my shoes. My head hit the back of the chair in front of me. And when the person in front "reclined" (even if you only get to go back a few inches), it felt like an invasion of my personal space.

Flying east, I thought about the airline executives who made the decision to cram another three people into that metal tube and I decided they should be tried for their crimes against humanity and sentenced to sit in economy seats. Flying west, I thought if you strapped a monkey into one of those seats and made it sit there for 6 or 7 hours, you would have the animal rights people all over you. But we put up with it because we understand. Good grief. When we got to Paris, my ankles had swelled up like grapefruits and I couldn't see the ankle bones at all. Interestingly, they hardly swelled on the way home. I suppose it was a combination of factors - the flight over was a night flight during which I hardly slept at all, I was dehydrated and I was tense, man. Anyway.

They tell you to get up and walk around the cabin but that's always complicated by the drinks cart being in the aisle half the time. It was further complicated on the way home by the fact that we were in seats A and B of three abreast and C, the aisle seat, was occupied by a cranky older woman whose face was permanently set into a frown (I checked and she looked like that when she was sleeping too). Soon after take-off, we both needed to pee and so we indicated that we needed her to stand up and let us out. She did, but with a singular lack of grace. Getting in and out of seats also isn't easy because you cannot stand up straight but had to hunch your way in, bending to fit yourself around the seat in front. When we got back, we wondered if we'd be able to pee again during the flight. Luckily, she decided to get up some hours later and walk around so we made a sprint for the bathroom then, so as not to inconvenience her. Some people should just get over themselves.

France 2008, preamble

2008-05-31T17:58:00.000-04:00

France 2008
I can't figure out how to start my travel story so I'm going to start with tips. Today's Citizen has three articles on Paris, if you can believe it. One starts "What is your image of the solo traveller in Europe?", the next, "My first encounter with the self-service rental bikes in Paris..." and the third, "How do you approach an iconic city..."

This trip was our first-ever trip to Europe together and it was supposed to be The Big One, for our 25th anniversary, which was last year, never mind. We spent a whole year (or more) wondering where to go and finally settled on Provence for several reasons. Peter had not been to Europe, so the whole thing was wide open for him. I had lived in Europe here and there but I had not been to some places including Provence and didn't want to go somewhere I'd already been. VanGogh painted some of his most famous paintings in Arles. We wanted to go in May to avoid the main tourist months and France was probably warmer in the south in May than some other places. We almost settled on Glasgow because there was a cheap flight there but came to our senses and booked our tickets for Paris instead.

We flew Air France to Paris, took the TGV down to Arles and spent 9 days there and then spent 3 days in Paris before the return flight. It turned out to be a good plan. Our idea was that we would be having a Holiday and therefore didn't need to SEE every darned thing there was to see, which you can't do anyway. We wanted to get a real feel for what Provence was like and Paris was just a bonus. And once you've seen one Roman ruin, you don't need to see them all to know what it's like. It was a great trip and we're already thinking about the next one.

Travel Tips
TRAVEL LIGHT. Everybody says this and you can't disagree. We decided this time to carry backpacks and not wheeled luggage. I knew there would be lots of stair climbing in the metro and other places and I thought backpacks would be easier than wheels and in many respects they were. Also, your hands are left free with backpacks. The fact that it's more of a strain on your shoulders is the main drawback. We also thought it would be faster at the airports if we only had carry-on bags but that turned out not to be entirely true. Once you get to the airport, you have to wait to go through Customs first and then claim your bags so it's only marginally faster.

Having large carry-on bags can be a pain because you have to hump them into the overhead compartments but mostly, it's a pain because of what you are not allowed to take on aircraft for security reasons. I cannot live without a nail file so I took my tiniest one and it got through security but I could see that they looked at the bag closely so I won't be trying that again. And you are limited in the shampoo and other liquids department for security so maybe a checked bag is best these days. Even if you do check bags however, travel light.

We did two laundries in 14 days. In Arles, we found an automatic (do-it-yourself) laundry and waited until our laundry bag was fairly full and then spent an hour doing laundry. I wore t-shirts which don't need ironing and Peter had shirts that didn't need ironing. I didn't wash my skirts and jackets and carried a Tide Pen for emergencies. So our backpacks weighed under 2 kilos each and stuffed with clothes they weighed about 7 kilos. A backpack with wheels weighs in at about 4 kilos empty. This is important because carry-on bags are limited to 12 kilos each. In any event, we were way under the weight limit even for carry-on but don't forget that you still have to carry it on your back.

Here's what I looked like, carrying the big back-pack, now weighing 10 kilos with the fabric I bought, and my much smaller (although it looks big) "purse" backpack on my front that held my wallet, documents, maps, etc. It actually worked out pretty well.

080510

2008-05-10T10:21:00.001-04:00

Today is my mother's 77th birthday - happy birthday Mum! This morning when I went running, Peter came with me and walked in the opposite direction and took photographs of this and that.

This is me running the upwind leg of the circuit. Not very high off the ground but good form! Arms at a good height, feet straight. I suppose the feet could be a little farther apart - not so single file - but it seems to work for me. As I have said before, I'll never win a race (too slow) but I happy that I'm just out there.
I'm wearing my pink Manolo says: Super Fantastic! t-shirt and have decided that the water bottle belt is a good idea.

080509

2008-05-09T11:01:00.000-04:00

Today wasn't as difficult as yesterday - maybe it was the egg. This isn't becoming a running blog but it's where I'm putting things for now and it's what I have to write about. Today, I ran past an older Oriental man who was running even slower than I was. I may "enjoy" running and I may even keep at it but win a race, I will never do. I thought about how old he might be and figured he could be about 60. He didn't seem as old as 70. But he was out there, going around the circuit.

I also felt proprietary about the park as I was running around it. The construction was banging on beside the park - lots of new condos going in. And even though the workers won't be living there, it was good to see people about. There were people walking circuits in the park as usual. And a parks maintenance guy was out with a loader of some kind, spreading what might have been fertilizer on the playing fields. It was as I ran by him and nodded hello that I felt like I belonged there. Interesting.

080508

2008-05-08T10:34:00.000-04:00

And again. Only today was tougher. I still ran 20 minutes but it seemed to be more of a struggle. I suppose it could have been the water I took with me for the first time. Since I'm outside for less than 30 minutes, I haven't been taking water. Yesterday, I resurrected the Running Room water bottle belt but to carry the camera. Today, I took a tiny 340 ml bottle of water. I cinched it pretty well so it didn't move around a lot but still, it was there. I drank 240 ml of it during the cool down walk which is good for me. I'm not a huge water drinker.

It could have been the stiff west wind that slowed me down on each leg of the circuit. The internet says it is gusting to 35 km/h and it was threatening to blow my hat off each time I ran west. However, I decided to have a boiled egg on toast when I got home, as I might need some protein too.

080507

2008-05-07T09:55:00.000-04:00

And again this morning. But you should have seen me rationalizing why I didn't have to. I started with the fact that I'd fallen asleep last night in front of the tv at 8:30. Obviously I needed my rest. This morning, I let myself sleep in until 7:30 ( I have been getting up at 6am all semester and see no reason to stop even though I am not now teaching). So I thought, I won't go running - it's too late and I have other things to do. Then I thought, I could go get my hair cut this morning and that involves a bike ride (only about 15 minutes one way but still). And I have to shower off the hair when I'm done so that would mean too many showers. And on I went until I just got up and went running.

While I was running, I rationalised that I only needed to run two circuits because of the bike ride later. But I just kept going and then there I was, past the end of the third circuit and still running to the 20 minute mark. So I did it again! I even found the Running Room water bottle belt that has two zippered compartments on it and brought my camera to take pix of the beaver damage in the park. So, even though it is almost 10 am, I feel pretty virtuous and I still have time to go get my hair cut.

080506

2008-05-06T08:54:00.000-04:00

Ran again today! This time each circuit was about 5:45 - a little under 6 minutes. I ran until I went past the start of the circuit and since it was at 18 some minutes, I kept running until I got to 20 minutes. So I was out there about 3 minutes less than yesterday. Good stuff. No Body Flow class this morning so I did about 15 minutes of "my yoga" in the living room. I have never taken a "real yoga" class but I have learned a lot from Body Flow and from this book we got. I do four choreographed sun salutations, based on Body Flow. Then I do "hip openers" which is just a few pigeon poses interspersed with down dogs and quad stretches. Then I do a balance track - some floating half moons, the warrior on one foot whatever that one is, dancer poses. Then pilates for abs and back - core work. Each section has a song that I play so it gives a sense of timing to it all. Now for a shower and my second breakfast. Mmm.

080505

2008-05-05T08:11:00.000-04:00

I started running outside (as opposed to on the treadmill) on Saturday. That day, I started with one minute of running, one of walking for 5 minutes and then I launched into just running. I ran for 14 minutes without stopping and then I walked for another 10 to cool down. I was pleased because I didn't remember ever having run for 14 minutes without walking. Sunday, we walked the park. A circuit walking takes about 10 minutes. Running a circuit takes between 6 and 7 minutes. I felt the running in my quads mostly, but also in the rest of the legs, the butt and my sternum, which had to move in and out more than usual to accommodate more rapid breathing.

Today, I decided I would run again. I started and went one circuit and then two and finally, I kept on going to make three full circuits. I stopped a little short of three because there were these two people walking ahead of me as I came in to the end of the third and I didn't want to sprint past them and then stop dead. Why I should care what two strangers think, I don't know but I do, so there it is. Anyway, I did my nearly three circuits in 18:30 minutes. When I stopped, this time I checked my pulse and it was at 140. 220 - 50 = 170 times 75% which is probably high for me as an intermediate = 127, so I was well over my target heart rate but not gonna die.

I continued on and walked a fourth circuit so I was outside for 30 minutes all together. In about 5 minutes, my pulse was down below 100 so I am happy about that recovery rate. Tomorrow, I am having lunch in Manotick which is about a 30 km round trip, so that will be my aerobic exercise tomorrow. Now, I am going to go to the gym and do a 60 minute class of yoga and pilates to get all my stretching in.

080427

2008-04-27T10:35:00.001-04:00

Zoom asked at her blog the other day, what did you believe when you were a little kid? I can't remember anything I "believed" that wasn't supported by evidence. Of course, I am pretty sure my parents never told us stuff that wasn't true, except maybe for Santa Claus and even then, I was like that kid in "Miracle on 34th Street". Even though I had read stories where there were monsters under the bed or that the kids in the stories believed there were monsters, I never thought there were because, 1) there are no monsters ("Aliens" notwithstanding), and 2) I always found an explanation for the mysterious or unknown. And I don't think this sounds like a dull childhood at all! Why is a childhood where you believe in things that don't exist more exciting than mine?

At any rate, I was reading this book recently where the guy reiterates that most people dream in black and white and it made me think of my dream world. I remember my dreams all the time, several times a night in fact, if I wake up during them. They are in Technicolor, I can feel things, smell things, hear things. All my senses are involved. And while the stories that play out are inevitably very odd, they have an internal logic. When I was very young (I guess I start remembering this at about the age of 5), I had a recurring nightmare. It was the same thing every time and lasted into my 20s. After I got control of this nightmare (and you CAN control your dreams) in my late teens, I understood it to come from stress and then I could get rid of it at will.

It always happened while I was falling asleep, in that brief time after you close your eyes and start to nod off. I would see a pale ochre coloured field. It was like a sheet or a canvas. I was IN the dream and the object of the dream but I couldn't see myself because it was happening to me. The canvas would start to crumple around the edges and the crumpled or wrinkled portions of the canvas were constricting on me. As the wrinkles got closer to me, a weight descended on me, making every square inch of my skin seem to weigh a pound or more. At this point, I could even wake up and yet I would still feel the weight. I remember one time in particular that my mother came in to help me. Usually I had the nightmare and woke up and got over it. This time, I think I was about 7 and I woke up and turned on the light which woke my sister up (we shared a room) and I was still in the grip of this weighty feeling. The light and us talking brought Mum in and she sat with me until the feeling went away. Along with the incredibly vivid and realistic dreams I had of flying, you can see why I had no need of imaginary monsters under the bed.

I am also a very literal person. Oh, I get metaphors and understand analogies but sometimes I have to be made aware that a person is using one. Likewise with puns. As a child, I didn't get a lot of jokes right away because I could only see their literal meaning. A person in a joke is trying to explain what leather is, that it is also called "hide". The explainee doesn't get it and the explainer says, "hide, hide! the cow's outside" and the explainee says what I would have said, "why should I? I'm not afraid of a cow." ba-da-boom. Weirdly enough, Zoom had some "guy walks into the bar" jokes on her blog comments the other day and she wrote one in there herself where Descartes says "I think they're for 1 a.m." and I STILL thought it said "I think they are for one o'clock on the morning" until Peter explained it to me. Yikes.

080425

2008-04-25T08:50:00.001-04:00

I'd heard of this meme before but it was also over at Orange Crate Art recently so I thought of it again. The idea of the meme (never mind the promulgation of it) is:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.

I looked around at the dining table behind me and I had three books on it, all within reach. Here are the results. Can you guess the books? (And I don't mean you, P., who knows exactly which books they are!)

"The ancient, fortified, traffic-free village perche of Grimaud is yet another legacy of the ubiquitous Grimaldi family after which the village is named. Gibelin de Grimaldi, a doughty Genoese knight, was rewarded with a fief here after helping William the Good of Provence drive the Saracens out of this part of France in AD 973..." etc. etc.

" 'Part of Duma's development problem is simple overgrowth. The sea oats belong, but the rest of that shit has no business growing without irrigation. Somebody better investigate, that's what I think.' "

"It was a saddened Menicucci who telephoned a week later to tell us that the House of Cardin no longer made our lavatories. Une catastrophe but he would continue his researches. A further ten days passed before he reappeared, now in triumph, coming up the steps waving another catalogue above his head."

080421

2008-04-21T19:48:00.001-04:00

The more I look at The Daily Coyote, the more I realize what a good job of drawing the animators did on the cartoon Wile E. Coyote.

080417

2008-04-17T11:38:00.002-04:00

My husband is home sick with a nasty-sounding cold. I think I also have the germ but I have managed to stave off the manifestations of the cold through clean living and a liberal ingestion of Cold FX. The whole "clean living" thing is sort of a joke but not really, in that I have been working at making myself fit, not drinking (much), going to the gym, and contemplating running outside. So I think it is paying off in increased resistance to germs.

Interestingly, today when I visited A Dress A Day as I am wont to do, she was writing about athletic wear. The things you find on the internet! There is a company I have never heard of making athletic skirts! Fun stuff, I say. Also apropos of what Erin wrote on her blog, I too have never thought of myself as "athletic". I always associated athletic with organized sports like basketball, football, some kind of ball. I don't have that kind of coordination - you should see me throw something for a dog! Early release, late release - I never know where the thing will end up. And yet, I always rode a bike, I rode horses for a while, I figure skated - not very well but good enough to be in the novice category on the university team. In fact, I am proud to say I lettered in sports at university. Now I am into my own version of yoga, I lift weights, I still ride the bike, I get out.

I guess the "lesson" here is not to label yourself. If you don't fit into a category, so what.

080413

2008-04-13T16:55:00.001-04:00

I am feeling misanthropic today. General crabbiness and a lot of sighing are evident. This week is my last week teaching which is nice because then I have time to myself. But not nice is that I suddenly will have no income. So that brings up the whole job-income-employment-'maybe I should be writing a book' crap. Somebody I have never met but feel like I know through her blog is worrying about the existence of the blog and how that might impact on her. I have these same worries so I have been censoring myself as I write. And am doing it now, I suppose. There's the fear of being judged and getting nasty email too.

Interestingly, I haven't been to "Small Dead Animals" is a long time because I'm just not interested in that back biting in which the opposite ends of the political spectrum love to indulge. However, for some reason I clicked on it today and I find out that she is being sued for libel by some lawyer, blah, blah, blah and that reinforces the above-mentioned fears. I'm afraid to even make a link to SDA for fear of reprisals so you'll have to Google it. The defenders of SDA make a good point when they say all she did was link to the libel but then, I am no expert in libel and in reading the statement of claim, there was the assertion that it was a republishing of the libel, blah blah blah. I feel like I should have better things to do with my time. Although, defending free speech is pretty important.

But as I often say, it's not just one thing. The weather isn't helping - cold and windy. Thankfully it is not raining or snowing. I'm worried that the herbs I started last weekend as seeds and which have already sprouted are going to be too big too soon for planting. And anyway, I'm going to be away so I can't plant them. And I don't trust anyone to plant them for me. Argh.

And then there's the whole upstairs reno to consider not the least of which is the plumbing leak. I don't know about plumbing so I have to rely on someone else and it was crappy plumbing in the first place that made for a leak, probably. I have to cut a hole in the ceiling to start to find out.

I am happy I took the electric blanket off the bed when I changed the sheets this morning. I haven't turned it on lately so that's a sign that winter is leaving. And I want to wash the blanket and lay it out to dry on the patio on the drying rack. But that has to wait until the weather is better too. No clotheslines here with condo-townhome restrictions. But I plan to use my drying rack a lot this summer. Of course, something is irking me about that too - where to put the rack when it is not in use. Do I just prop it up in the living room (ugly, eyesore) or do I haul it up from the basement every time I want to use it which I was hoping would be more than once a week (work and banging of knuckles and such).

I have that Naymz Profile website sending me emails every day, telling me people have looked at my profile and so I should send them money to upgrade. Almost as bad as the constant requests for upgrading from Classmates dot com. More argh.

But I did ride my bike on the weekend and Thursday so I am happy about that. And really, I have nothing of import to complain about. I am healthy, my husband is (apparently) happy to support me financially (although if I suddenly got a real job, I don't think I'd hear any complaining) and we are taking a holiday in a month. If I count my blessings, they far outnumber the other.

080410

2008-04-10T17:24:00.001-04:00

Ever since I became convinced about climate change by James Lovelock, I have been thinking even more than usual about the state of the planet. I was always partial to thinking about the planet, especially in terms of respect for it, and in that sense, I am completely in synch with Lovelock's metaphor of the planet as Gaia, a self-regulating organism. I am also pleased that he thinks we should go with nuclear energy to make electricity instead of stupid windmills that only make 3% anyway.

But I've also been musing about growth and economic growth and why everyone says that's so good but how it's really ruining the planet. I read the business section of the newspaper and everybody goes into a tailspin when growth slows down. But I figure there has to be an upper limit for growing, just as there is with an individual's life time and that of a species. When deer get too numerous, wolves eat them - like that. There is a balance for everything, including we humans and our economies. There is a lot of fretting about how there are soon going to be "too many" old people and not enough young people to support the old people, especially in terms of CPP and other social payments. But if we always maintained a balance of more young than old people, we'd end up with 7 billion people on the planet... oh wait, that's where we are now!

There was a big kerfuffle in the 70s about zero population growth but no one could figure out how to manage it, not even the Chinese with their one baby rule. And no one seems to think it is a good idea now and there are even regular editorials in the paper about how we (meaning white folks anyway) aren't having enough babies. Somehow, people have shied away from the obvious and now no one is talking about how there are too many humans on the planet.

As for economic growth, I understand the need and the quest to sell more and more of a product. But I don't think it's natural. As George Carlin might say (he did in Toledo Window Box), "it's normal without being natural", meaning according to Nature. In the olden days but long after we invented the division of labour, if I made wagons, I could only make enough wagons that people would want to buy. If I could get my product to a larger market, then I could sell more. But eventually, everyone would have a wagon and I would have to just repair them and make a new one once in a while. We have totally ripped by that model and left it in the dust. I think it's time to resurrect it and rethink it.

080409

2008-04-10T09:00:00.000-04:00

I got my final exam off to the printer and I don't even need it until the week of April 21. It'll take some hours of marking once all 70 students write it, so I am glad to have the drafting part of the project out of the way early. I don't teach on Thursdays so I am leisurely going to the gym tomorrow and I may EVEN ride the bike. Which means I can buy kleenex in bulk. You don't know how thrilling that can be, after a long winter of buying small things, one at a time, that can fit into a backpack that already is holding gym shoes and stuff.

I notice that our television seems to be going. You have to crank the sound bar right up to hear anything. And I don't think both of us have suddenly gone deaf. I'm glad it's not only one part of the sound spectrum and not another - that would really be annoying. But now we have to decide what new tv to buy. Do we get one of those flat screen LCD things that you can hang on the wall but that won't fit into the giant wall unit we have right now? And if we do that, what do we do with the giant wall unit that is perfectly good? That's my biggest issue with renovating or redecorating - what to do with the stuff that is still perfectly good? When I did the kitchen, I called Habitat Re-stores and they came and got all the old cabinets which was very nice as they had zero value for me and I'd always hated them. But this wall unit is really nice so I am conflicted. And then there's that whole digital signal only of the future thing. And of course, there's always the issue of how much tv we watch and shouldn't. I really enjoy some tv and I don't want to cut myself off from that aspect of popular culture. So maybe we'll get a regular tv and later, when we do redecorate the living room (there's a plan in the works) we'll get the fancy new type.

080408

2008-04-08T16:00:00.001-04:00

Today I took a bus I'd never been on before so I had a little adventure. Little being the operative word. But I noticed that it is more tiring to do something new than the same-old, same-old. I had to pay attention more than usual because I was on a different route. Maybe I wouldn't have felt that way if I hadn't missed the first stop where I was supposed to transfer. I wasn't thinking much and I figured the bus would stop at a station where there were numbered platforms where you could run up and down stairs to catch all sort of other buses. But it didn't stop and we sailed by, so I had to get out at the next stop and backtrack. Thank goodness I had left early. Or maybe that was why I forgot to ring the bell to make the bus stop - I subconsciously knew I had lots of extra time.

Anyway, now in a state of high alert, I developed a tension headache waiting for the bus I had to transfer to. As I waited (with all that extra time I had not even used up), I noticed a police cruise roar by with its hair on fire. Then a few minutes later, another one went by and so when we ground to a halt after I got on the bus, I knew it was because of the accident ahead. Sure enough, just before we got off the Queensway at Kirkwood/Carling, we passed an accident by the side of the road. So in spite of everything, I was late to where I was going.

Travel or doing new things may be fun and all but I think it's the exhaustion that makes you glad to get home again. And that was just a bus ride. For our big trip abroad, I think I will plan for plenty of down time in cafes and pubs and just watch other people rushing by on a mission.

080407

2008-04-08T15:36:00.001-04:00

[Should have put this up yesterday...]

There are only two more weeks of teaching in the semester. Then I give the final exam and I'm done. Of course, that also means I am done getting paid, as I only get paid for the actual hours I teach in the classroom. So then it will be time to start something new. After we go to Europe and come back, of course. So - June it is then.

In the meantime, I only have two more sessions on Saturdays of "boot camp" at the Goodlife gym. It has been a good shake-up, to do circuit training for an hour on Saturday but I haven't started anything new otherwise, in my routine. And the gym changed the schedules of all its classes so until I end teaching in 2 weeks, I can't take the Body Flow classes I was taking until last week.

I write this because I was reminded by Zen Habits that we were supposed to write down our goals, or why we signed up for Boot Camp. Shoot - I just checked my calendar and I'm going to miss the second last boot camp because I signed up for a course in how to be a director of a condominium. That kind of frosts me. I forgot all about them overlapping. Gack, now that I look at it, I thought we only had 6 classes of boot camp and that means I will miss the very last one. I really dislike not finishing something.

Anyway - goals. I wanted to lose some actual pounds. I have lost fat and gained muscle and my clothes are fitting looser but I am not able to slide that weight on the scale over to the left any more than usual. This is frustrating, even though I know that the answer lies in fewer calories in than out. I think I want to start running comfortably outside and I don't want to be gasping for air 3 minutes after I leave the house. And should I decide to become a personal trainer, it will give me ideas about what else I can do with clients.

On the weekend, I planted herb seeds in little peat pots. Some of them were so small, I'm not sure how many got into each peat pot. I hope that by the time we get back from Europe, they will be good little seedlings and ready to put outside. It is so tempting to plant before the end of May but you really do run the risk of a killing frost and then there goes all your earlier effort.

080404

2008-04-04T15:46:00.000-04:00

As I watched my students writing their midterm exam this morning, I thought about the benefits of experience. If you have any at all, in any area, you know what I mean.
Hmm, at Dictionary dot com, the fifth definition says:
Philosophy. the totality of the cognitions given by perception; all that is perceived, understood, and remembered.
"ALL that is understood." That's one heckuva lot.
Anyway, as I watched my students puzzle and scribble, I wondered if one can pass on the benefits of one's experience? Or do people simply have to experience things themselves in order to learn or understand the thing? Now that I've written this, I think the answer depends on your personality and how you learn things generally. In the Myers-Briggs lexicon, if you are a "Sensor" instead of an "iNtuitive", then you probably would have to experience the thing itself to learn what it is. Which is why I am even asking the question, because I am the opposite of the "Sensor" type.

So I started to muse about whether I can pass on the benefits of what I have learned but now I realize that it depends on the passee - who are they, what do they know already, are they ready to learn, what is their learning style, do they even know? So people can be taught about a subject but they have to be willing to learn and they have to make an effort too. Learning is not passive, but even when you tell students that, some of them still refuse to engage. Such will be the story of teaching the human residents of this planet what they can do to make it a better place, even for themselves.

080403

2008-04-03T17:06:00.000-04:00

A couple of things in the paper this morning to comment on: older driver kills person at bus stop, city council saves money by eliminating minutes of meetings. I'll work on the latter issue later.

I think driver's licences should be much more difficult to get in the first place and I think everybody should have to re-up every 5 or 10 years. Age should not be a factor in issuing licences. The sole criterion should be ability to drive and drive well. Most people don't pay attention while driving and that's what causes the accidents. The up-side of licences being more difficult to obtain is that there may end up being fewer drivers on the road and therefore less burning of fossil fuels. Also, people will have to walk and bike and they will be fitter. I think it's a win-win for everybody. BUT taking the test every 5 years should NOT turn out to be a money grab by the government. There should be some small fee - what I call earnest money - but the fees shouldn't prevent people from driving and they shouldn't be a cash cow.

On a completely different note, I dislike people who think they are superior to others, especially if they aren't. Some people try to build themselves up by tearing others down. Sometimes, they do this by using practical jokes to poke fun at people who take the joke seriously. They feel superior because they are in the know and they see that it is a joke, while at the same time they fail to acknowledge that they set the joke up in the first place.

I think we learn how to behave with others very early on and this sets a pattern for the rest of our lives. I suppose it is possible to change this pattern but I think it involves a humongous effort. And if you already feel superior to others, why would you change your behaviour? I know someone whose father put him down all during the time he grew up. I suppose it was how the father had learned to behave - put others down and keep them down so that you don't get put down there with them. Unfortunately he never had the wit to see the damage he wrought in his own child, who forever after felt he was never good enough for anything. It's interesting that the child didn't adopt the same behaviour pattern and instead, feels great empathy for all creatures who are downtrodden. Of course, we are all individuals and react to the same stimulus in different ways.

How you behave successfully with other people and how you learn to be a good driver are both a result of paying attention. The more you pay attention to what is happening, the better results you will have in whatever you are doing.

080402

2008-04-02T16:03:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about convergence, in the sense that everything putters along in life but all of a sudden, you start noticing patterns and repetitions and mundane things gain a sense of importance because of their juxtaposition with other things. It started with emails and Proust and how can I get writing again and has continued with Lovelock and climate change and what can I do about that. I am not sure I believe in cosmic karmic fate. I know I don't believe in a higher power and so I don't think anything is directing me. And I certainly don't believe in Determinism. What I do believe is that it's a natural survival function of the brain to see patterns in things and we humans love to attribute meaning to everything. So maybe I am seeing patterns because I want to see patterns because I want to make a change in my life. That's certainly duller than the nice fiction that I am meant to be or to do. But I am nothing if not dull at times. Or shall I say "overly earnest" or a stickler for truth.

It is interesting that someone who is slavishly devoted to the truth at all costs, also loves complete fiction like time travel and The X-Files. Can I find meaning or direction in this observation? Or is it just the way things are?

Since I gave a midterm exam today (and wrote an exam as a student last Sunday), I am also thinking about effort and how we rarely if ever give 100% effort into anything. We hold back a reserve for emergencies or for when it "really matters". But when is that? Intellectually, I know that the only life we can live is the one that is happening right this moment. But I also know the odds are pretty good that I'll still be living a few moments from now and so I futurize - "I'll do that after I lose 10 pounds, or after I get that job, or after I win the lotto". Am I afraid that if I don't wait, if I do everything "now", there won't be anything left for later? That's pretty silly. So I conclude that it's fear of failure that holds me back. And now that I've expressed that out loud, I've got nothing left to hide behind. I think.

080401

2008-04-01T16:40:00.001-04:00

I was going to write about garbage in the hood over on my hood blog but have decided that that blog should maintain a higher tone than complaining. Plus I noticed that my crocuses were up so I could post about that joyful event. It has been a long, snowy winter and right now it is jean jacket weather and I have the windows open to enjoy it. If I could sit on my patio, it would be bliss. But except for the corner with the crocus, it's still under a foot of snow so I am reduced to leaning out the window and sighing. I did write "mooning out the window" and if you look it up, it means to yearn or pine in addition to its ruder meaning. I prefer the older more romantic use of the word, thank you.

I am nearly finished Lovelock's excellent little book about climate change. I have decided to become convinced that global warming is happening and now I have to decide what can I do about it. I am already doing quite a lot personally so what I have to think about is how I can persuade others. How do you persuade people to do anything? You show them that there is something in it for them. However, for something this broad in scope, I think it's going to take a lot of thinking. And it won't end up being only one thing anyway. It never is, just one thing. I think I have to concentrate on something simpler to begin with. How can I persuade people to stop littering? It's on my mind with the melting of the snow exposing garbage everywhere. But we can't even manage to persuade our neighbours to pick up their own garbage that doesn't get collected for whatever reason.

It doesn't even help (I don't think) for me to examine why I pick up not only my own garbage but other people's because I don't think I am normal in that regard. I do things like that because I have a sense of responsibility and connexion with the Earth and cannot stand to see it insulted like that. Can you teach such a thing? Sometimes. You see programs where high school students go out and pick up trash once a year to beautify a park or path. Maybe some of them take it to heart. But who ARE all those people littering out there? If I staked out a spot on the bike path and asked anyone I saw actually throw trash, why they did it, would I learn something useful? I may have come up with a project for myself. I wonder if I can get a grant for the research.

080331

2008-03-31T13:22:00.000-04:00

I just noticed that I have over 8000 hits on my sewing blog for March. I think that's a new record.

It's snowing freely and with fat flakes right now [at 7:30 am]. This will change to rain as the temperature rises, although they are calling for freezing rain in the middle. I'll take my YakTrax to school so I don't kill myself on the way home.

After work, I think I'd better sit and finish Lovelock's The Revenge of Gaia. I got it at the library and it's due on April 12. He makes a convincing argument for climate change and how it's related to the ppm of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere and how this relates to oceans and algae among other things. There's also a really interesting aside about why we excrete nitrogen in pee instead of by exhaling. And I'm only at chapter two. I think I will be convinced shortly. But then what? I know, I know, I have to read the reports from the IPCC.

More from the new and improved writing at Environment Canada:

"An active early spring weather pattern will continue to send a conveyor belt of moist air towards the lower Great Lakes region. ... The air mass will be quite unstable so the odd rumble of thunder cannot be ruled out. "

080330

2008-03-30T15:13:00.000-04:00

There was a recent "article" at The Onion about someone who sent out so many emails chronicling the minutia of his life that he was considered a modern day Proust. I kind of feel like that guy. I do write a lot each day, but it is all emails, mostly to this odd little chat group to which I belong and to my long-suffering husband. And it's also interesting (to me at least) that I have been thinking about reading Proust, even though I haven't cracked page one of volume one. But I enjoy reading about Proust, which I do vicariously through a blog called Orange Crate Art, written by an English professor somewhere in Indiana.

Much has happened in the last little while, not the least of which was that I turned 50 and didn't even mark that milestone with a blog post. I have concluded that I must begin blogging about the minutia of my life in a Proust-meets-the-Onion sort of way.

Today, I wrote the CanFitPro Personal trainer Specialist exam. I gave myself the course as a 50th birthday present. I don't know if I am going to become a personal trainer but I have been going to the gym lately and noticing a lot of women older than I am who could probably relate more to a personal trainer closer to their own age. Plus, I have been watching my parents age (gracefully, I may say) and they do love to quote (was it Bette Davis?) someone who said "getting old ain't for sissies". I figure I have about 30 years before I allow myself to qualify as "old" and I am going to start preparing for it now. Although I am a member of the GoodLife Gym and I really enjoy its group exercise classes, I don't think I would want to sign on there as a trainer in its stable. Because "stable" sort of says it all for me. If I do become a trainer, it will be on my terms. I want to be able to choose the people with whom I work and it's not the money that is important to me.

Anyway - first I have to pass the exam. I don't know when I'll hear how I did. If I passed (I'm pretty sure I did), then I have to take a CPR certification course and then I have to do the practical exam, which I know I will pass. And then we shall see. In the meantime, I continue to teach part time, which ends at the end of April. Peter and I are going to Europe in May for the first time ever together. And when we get back, I want to renovate the upstairs of the house, including putting in a whole new bathroom. So I think I'm busy until July at any rate.

There. That's a good start. Now I just have to do this every day.

How unique is your name?

2007-11-19T13:48:00.000-05:00

In a desperate search for new material, I came across this on the internet.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are
0
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

I knew the answer already, as my last name is very rare. I think there may not be another one person with my name in the whole world, never mind the U.S. There are however, 338,208 people with the first name Julia in the U.S.
Interesting -- there are 20 people with my husband's name.

Tourists abroad

2007-11-07T21:36:00.000-05:00

This one is for GrannyJ. We were in Barbados for a holiday in 1989 and spotted this convex traffic mirror. Peter aimed the camera without looking through the viewfinder, we posed like doofuses (doofi?) and there we were - immortalized.

Big Bike Trip

2007-11-04T13:26:00.000-05:00

Maritimes August 2007

We decided to take a two week holiday this August, to test out the capabilities of the new tandem, and our capabilities riding it. Also, getting along with each other while riding the same bike all day long. And it worked very well. The edited pix are all here at Peter's Flickr site. I'll use a few in the story but I recommend you go there and have a nice slide show or view them all individually for comments, captions and notes.

We chose to go to the Maritimes because we could fly there and test the packing and unpacking of the bike, and because we knew two people there who could come and rescue us if everything went wrong. We flew into Halifax Friday morning and went for lunch first, before attempting to assemble the bike. We chose the Citadel Hotel partly for location, partly because Peter had stayed there before, and partly because they agreed to store all three large suitcases for the two weeks we would be away. The bike comes apart into as many pieces as necessary, to fit into two Samsonite suitcases. The airlines have a 50 pound limit on checked baggage so we also had to make sure we didn't overload the bags with other things like shoes, panniers and helmets. They aren't very heavy but every ounce counts.

Packing the bike into the two bags had taken Peter quite a bit of time, as he tried to make sure they were evenly balanced in terms of weight, and not bend any cables or other vital bits in the packing process. Putting the bike together took less time - about an hour in the hotel room. However, when we had packed the bike, we had deflated the rear tire so as to squeeze it into the suitcase more easily and when Peter went to inflate it in the hotel room, we discovered that it appeared to have been warped. We couldn't figure out what might have happened to it but the rear tire seemed to have a weird compressed spot on it. We took the bike out anyway for a test drive and as I sat on the rear (waiting for the tire to explode), it felt like a "square tire", like what you sometimes get on a very cold morning if the car has sat in the driveway overnight.

We found a near-by local bike shop and clomped our way over to it on the bike, expecting to have to purchase a new tire as this one seemed to have some sort of defect in it. Our original purchased tires were very nice quality Schwalbe marathons and Peter really didn't want to have to swap one of them out for a cheap alternative. To our delight and relief, the local bike shop guy took the tire off, put it back on and while inflating it, used a sort of plier-looking, de-crimping tool to pull the tire out as it wanted to creep under the rim. Kind of a weird description but that's the best I can do. In any event, he handed us the rear wheel back and it looked perfect. We asked how much and he said no charge so we gave them $5 and said many thanks.

I got back on the rear seat and still held my breath, waiting for an explosion but eventually, and by the next day, I had relaxed enough to forget about it. And the tire never gave us any other problems for the rest of the trip. We never did figure out what had gone wrong.

Saturday morning, we left for Jack and Betty's place near Port Williams, Nova Scotia. We wobbled out of the hotel parking lot and hit the road before breakfast, intending to stop at a recommended place on the way. We found the Ardmore Tea Room as advertised and ate plenty of eggs and toast to fuel us for the day. We soon learned that biking on a really full stomach is not very comfortable and in fact, it is better to eat frequently and only enough to satisfy the hunger.

We soon discovered the Hills of Nova Scotia. We had heard about them but they were quite challenging to two middle aged, overweight and under athletic folks. However, we were somewhat prepared and we took frequent breaks, resting for only a few minutes by the side of the road. Even so, we developed painful pressure spots on our sit bones and needed to take breaks more and more frequently by the end of the day. And I developed a pain in my right knee. In retrospect, I think it was due to me leaning unconsciously away from traffic and using my right knee differently from the left. I am not afraid of traffic and I can even ride right down the middle of a city road in rush hour but I think it was the lack of control I was experiencing on the back that led to the leaning. I have no brakes and no gears and no steering back there and I found that difficult to get used to.

We had also been warned about the spikey hills north of Windsor but it wasn't until we were riding them that we realized the warning had not been an exaggeration. At one point, we hit 60 kph going down a hill and at another, we rode downhill for almost 7 kms without pedalling. Of course, all this lovely downhill riding was balanced by the up hills. On one of the up hills, we were riding so slowly (at less than 7 kph) that I started trying to identify vegetation growing by the side of the road. "Oh look," I said, "is that Virginia Creeper?" Peter wasn't looking as he was trying to keep us upright. Next time you are on a bike, try riding v-e-r-y slowly and you will realize that you need some speed to keep from toppling over sideways.

When Peter planned this first leg of our trip, he used a book he had found at or through some website like Bicycle Nova Scotia, called Nova Scotia by Bicycle by Walton Watt. It has detailed maps of particular bike trips, with detailed notes about way points and other sights. We wanted to stay off main highways and took the old Highway 1 most of the way to Port Williams. In the book, this is "Tour #7" and it says that to cross the Gaspereau River, you have to take the multi-lane highway 101. This was our first experience on a proper highway and while Peter found the high speed traffic a little unnerving, we both appreciated the more gradual grades for the hills and the wide shoulder. Since bikes are not normally allowed on multi lane highways, we weren't sure what the wide shoulders were for except maybe to allow the traffic more room to manoeuver. For sure, we could have used another ten inches of pavement on the smaller roads in the province, especially while I was developing a theory about people learning to drive and a lack of ability to steer very well.

We finally arrived at Jack and Betty's at about 6pm, after 115 kms. I had never before that day biked more than about 90 kms in one trip so it was a record for me. In fact, at the Domaine de Grand Pre vineyard, Peter pulled over to show me the bike computer as it said 100 kms exactly for the day on it. Since we were tired and sore, we didn't bother to tour the winery and then we didn't go back so we'll have to save that for another trip.

We had a lovely stay at J&B's. Got to play pool with Jack, groom Jessie the Golden Retriever, get taken out for sightseeing at the Look Off and visit with their progeny. Their daughter-in-law Carole, when she heard of our saddle sores (not involving broken skin but feeling bruised), gave us a tube of Traumeel from her store EOS Fine Foods. Always a little skeptical of homeopathic stuff, I nevertheless applied the ointment as directed and my butt did feel better! I'm not entirely sure, not having done a scientific study, if my butt might have felt the same without Traumeel, but I feared it might have been worse so I did use it every day. By the end of the trip, we were reminding each other to "Traumeel your ass" and thinking that sounded like something some American woman might say to her kids: "I'm going to Traumeel your ass if..." I even Traumeeled my knee but nothing seemed to help it except ibuprofen.

We left J&B on Monday, after they kindly put the bike in the van and drove us back over those nasty hills north of Windsor and let us out a little bit east of the Avon river on highway 14. Given their druthers, I think they would have driven us ("the kids") all the way to our destination that day which was Stewiacke, but we said it was just too much like cheating to get a ride all the way.

Then we hit "the Rawdon Hills". We'd been warned about those too and they were long and steep. Not as spikey as the hills north of Windsor but challenging anyway. It started to drizzle and we put on the rain gear. Large trucks seem to like taking the 14, along with giant bus-like RVs towing full sized SUVs. We pedalled on. We stopped for a break at the junction of the 202 and the 14 and were rocked by the passing wind of more RVs than trucks. We wondered how you could possibly enjoy visiting any place if you were encased in glass and metal and never walked anywhere. Wouldn't one province seem much like all the others?

When it started to rain harder, we were also looking for somewhere to have a late lunch and ran across a tiny roadside diner near Nine Mile River, complete with bars on the windows. We hadn't seen anything else for miles and went in to ask about other possibilities, of which there were none. So we ordered a pizza and just as it came to the table, the heavens opened and the rain gushed down the pavement. We watched and ate our pizza and by the time we were finished, so was the bulk of the rain. A lot of our trip was serendipitous like that, with things appearing when we needed them.

We saw from the map that there was a winery nearby but decided to press on to Stewiacke as it was still about 30 kms away. As it turned out, we didn't visit any wineries in Nova Scotia but we did drink plenty of their products! On the way, we passed through Shubenacadie but never saw signs up indicating this was the home of the "world famous" weather predicting groundhog, Shubenacadie Sam! I think the local business promoters should do something about that omission.

We arrived in Stewiacke after 72 kms at an average of 18.2 kph, only slightly damp and were welcomed to our very first B&B. We'd talked about staying in B&Bs but had been nervous about the quality of the accommodation and the closeness with the family who ran it. Sometimes, a little anonymity is what you want on holiday. The Nelson House B&B put us completely at ease and convinced us to keep trying B&Bs after that. Added to their hospitality was what for me was a complete deal-maker - they had a three year old female yellow Lab! Named Bailey, she welcomed us with a smile (rare for dogs) and I was immediately charmed. She had also been trained to stay away from food, even the cheese and scones placed on a low coffee table and I thought this was a miracle for a Lab. Such good manners.

Stewiacke is pretty small and the only place for dinner within walking distance was Whistlers Pub, so named for the railway near us. We hadn't thought about having a railway right by the B&B and were immediately transported back to our campsite at the Last Duel Campground in Perth, where the freight train goes by and blows its horn about every two hours, all night long. Thankfully, we only heard the train once all night. Whistlers happened to be having its all you can eat spaghetti night so we thought we would carbo-load but it turned out to be so spicy that we only had one plate. We played some pool there and had a great time but went back to the B&B in time for tea and scones before bed. There we met a couple from Japan who were here to look up some of his ancestors who had spent the last 5 generations in Cape Breton.

In the morning, we heard small noises in the hallway and, not being used to sharing a bathroom in a B&B, peeked out to see when our turn should be at the shower. But it was only Bailey who had come upstairs for some reason and was stretched out in the hall, obliging me to step over her to get to the bathroom. I tried to lure her back into our room but she obviously has been taught not to go into guests' rooms. So well-behaved!

We set off in the fog but no rain after a wonderful waffle breakfast and headed into what would be our longest day of the trip. We had a reservation at a B&B in Parrsboro and knew it was over 120 kms away. Again, locals had warned us about the "Economy Mountain" and so, having experienced the "hills" we wanted to give ourselves lots of time to bike that day.

We set off for Truro and stayed on highway 2 the whole way. Like the other highways we experienced, it has very small-to-no paved shoulders and so we were forced to be in traffic all the time. We're not afraid of traffic but it's nice to be able to let faster cars go by, especially climbing hills at 6 kph. Only occasionally did we bail off the side to let big trucks go by us - we figured that as soon as the way was clear, they could go and then they'd be going much faster than we were anyway so why should they complain? Well okay, that's what I figured. I always think that the faster one can go, the more impatient one tends to be. Just relax and you'll get there eventually - we do, on a bike.

The fog cleared and the sun came out and eventually, I got a sun burn because I hadn't put sun block on in the morning because it had been cloudy. We continued to trudge over the many rolling hills along the north coast of the Minas Basin, one of the far ends of the Bay of Fundy, home of the highest tides in the world! Funny thing was, we never really noticed when the tide was in. Only when it was out could you see the vast red mud flats glistening in the sun. We wondered whether you would disappear up to your neck if you stepped on that flat, shining mud - it gave the impression of being unsupportive like Jello. We even asked locals but none we spoke to had ever tried walking on it.

As we got near Economy, having passed Upper Economy and Lower Economy and maybe some other Economies, we began to wonder if we had already made it over "the mountain". Certainly, some of the hills we had climbed had been long and forced us into our granny gear. After several kilometers of road works during which we wondered in hope if they might be shaving the top off this mountain we had heard about, we passed some locals who waved to us from the garage they were standing in front of. "Halloo!" we called, "is that Economy mountain near here?" They all laughed and said yes it was just up the road a piece. We pressed on and suddenly, after a turn in the road, there it was, unmistakably bigger and steeper than anything we'd encountered.

We started up the steep grade, having had a rest and some water near the bottom. Within moments, we were in our granny gear and labouring. Finally, after several minutes of wobbling, Peter admitted the mountain had done us in and we got off the bike. It was so steep that he had to apply the brakes to keep the bike from rolling backwards. We started to push the bike up the hill, with Peter in the front taking most of the weight and me, initially pushing from beside my stoker's seat but eventually, pushing from the very back, using the panniers to push on. We had to rest several times as our legs got tired just from the walking uphill. Peter thinks it took about 30 minutes of walking to get to the top (I think I blacked out a few times) and when we got there, there wasn't even a view of the ocean or anything. We were mostly hemmed in by trees although you could see a long way off down the hill to something that was blue-grey in the distance. Anyway, we were also hot and sweaty from the effort but we knew the coast downhill would be freezing, given the hour (near 6pm) and general temperature. We put on our rain jackets and got back on the bike and pushed off, coasting to near record speeds all the way down.

Finally, we passed a small roadside diner and went in to have a little something to eat. Although it was dinner time, we weren't that hungry and we wanted to make sure we made it to Parrsboro where we expected to have dinner. Peter decided to call the B&B where he had booked over the internet and that's when we discovered that through a computer glitch, we had no reservations for that night. The very nice lady at our first B&B choice offered to look around for another room. Since we were having telephone issues, she said she would phone us back at the restaurant. Peter came back to the table to tell me this and since I had finished my snack, I went to the kitchen to take the return call. Nobody seemed to mind that I stood there on the phone, making reservations, while they breaded and fried fish.

Once we had confirmed reservations at The Maple Inn, we took off for the final 20 kms. It was close to 8pm when we finally rolled in to Parrsboro and the owner of the Maple Inn made us welcome. We tied the bike to the railing of the back porch, had a shower and went to dinner at the Stowaway, just a short totter down the street from the inn. We had fish and lobster and the cheapest drinks ever - local wine was only $3.49 a glass!

Our room had whirlpool water jets in the tub but we were too tired to bother filling it up. I would have fallen asleep in the tub if I had. The next morning after breakfast, we decided to walk a little around Parrsboro to look the the tides and things but soon decided to hit the road. This day was a short day - only 57kms - compared with the 126 kms we had biked the day before to Parrsboro. Both my knee and my sit bones needed the break. We headed up the 2 toward Amherst and it was a beautiful day, sunny, not windy, and we had been assured that it wasn't very hilly.

When we got to the fork in the road at Southampton, we had to decide between the shorter but less travelled highway 302 or highway 2 which went east in a big bend on the map. We worried about whether the 302 would end up climbing over some other mountainous hill and maybe that's why the 2 bent around like it did. And there was an icon on the map showing a "look off" on the 302 which implied a big hill. However, we decided to take the shorter route, after being reassured by some men hanging out at the local garage that there were only two main hills that way. They were right and we rolled into Amherst early enough to find a laundromat and do laundry.

We stayed at a Comfort Inn in Amherst, as it was sitting right there on the highway and looked inviting. We got some local intel from some ladies in the Horton's parking lot and decided it was our best bet. Wheeling the bike right into the room, we had a shower and changed and set out for the laundromat. While the clothes were washing, we had a beer at a Chinese food place nearby. It was too early for dinner but not for beer. While the clothes dried (4 minutes per quarter), we finished a crossword puzzle in the local paper. Someone had attempted it but only two words were filled in using a pen and one of them was wrong.

After laundry, we asked and decided on Jungle Jim's restaurant for dinner. It's a chain but it was within walking distance of the inn and we aren't fussy. We had a decent dinner but made the mistake of ordering dessert which we really weren't hungry for but had a coupon. This was one of the many reasons I didn't lose a pound on this trip.

The next day was medium long one, as we were to end up at our friend's cottage in Shediac, New Brunswick. We expected a trip of 88 kms, which we got, but it seemed much longer because of the headwinds. The first leg, from Amherst up to Tidnish, was lovely, with tail winds and not very big hills. We stopped at the Nova Scotia info centre in Tidnish (Peter insists on calling them all "question marks" because that's what they are on the maps) but despite the fact it was spitting distance to New Brunswick, they didn't have any N.B. maps. Good thing we'd Google mapped the roads before we left Jack and Betty's. We had lunch at a lovely homey diner in Port Elgin, with a lobster roll that was delicious, but we forgot to write the name of it down. It's right on the main road so I guess you can't miss it.

Once we left Port Elgin, we had to get on the 15, which is a four lane highway with a maximum speed of 100 kph in parts and plenty of big trucks. While it has a wide shoulder, when you examine it closely from the saddle of a bike, it is all broken and full of debris, so again, we had to teeter on the 6 inches or so of good pavement to the right of the painted line, bailing often onto the broken pavement because of the trucks. Peter was ready to leave the highway when we finally got to Shemogue. From there, we took the smaller 950 that appears to run along the water, even though you can't always see the water from the road. That's where we really ran into the headwinds and it slowed us down tremendously. We had averaged over 20 kph coming up from Amherst to Tidnish but here, we were slowed down to 16 kph or less, especially as those hills hadn't disappeared either.

We checked the map when we got to Trois-Ruisseaux (it's all very French in this neck of N.B.) and decided we didn't need to go along the water which we couldn't see anyway. We took the faint line on the map toward Cap Pele which wasn't any worse of a road than the 950 and shortened up the slog against the wind. Unfortunately, we ran into road construction at Cap Pele but it was mercifully short and we did meet a local cyclist who we chatted with at the gas station. Interesting about those gas stations - we don't use any gas but they are sure nice to have for pit stops and re-fuelling in terms of water and snacks.

Finally, after beating ourselves up on the 133 and taking more and more frequent "butt breaks", we made to our friend's cottage. And we almost missed it because there was more road construction and the sign with the name of the road running down to the beach on it was not there. Thankfully, Peter recognized it in the haze of memory from five years previously when he had been there and we stopped a fellow in a back-hoe to ask. Pedalling down the Cap-Brule road, we encountered a fellow pushing a wheelbarrow and without hesitation, he shouted at us, "it's not far! It's the second last place on your right!" Obviously, people were expecting two folks on a tandem.

It was a lovely welcome but a party was immanently planned so I had my one minute shower and change and showed up for dinner - Nan's famous seafood casserole, of which I had three helpings. One of the reasons we chose to do this trip as our inaugural tandem ride was because we had these good friends in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick - they were indispensable resources, there if we ran into trouble. As it turned out, we didn't have trouble but it was reassuring to know they were there in the background.

Relaxing at our friend's cottage gave me time to reflect on "life on the road" so far. When people see us pass by on the road, most wave right away but a few seem dumbfounded by the spectacle of two people on one bike and it takes a few seconds for the wave to kick in. I found it was similar to the look on the faces of horses as we biked by - they (the horses) never in their lives expected to see such a thing and they stop what they are doing and just watch.

Dogs are another story. Most just watch from the safety of their porch. They see you coming and bark leisurely, with the old dogs not even bothering to get up. Other dogs we seemed to catch by surprise. They didn't see us coming so there is some frantic barking and posturing as they make up for having been asleep on the job. And then there was the stealth dog. This one was a little white fluffy thing who caught us by surprise because we didn't see him until he had raced up beside us and then he barked. We almost fell off the bike, we were so startled but even when we screeched back at him (mostly for fear he might get run over by cars), he dogged us down the road until we finally were able to out-run him.

We found that almost every single local person we encountered was friendly and helpful. It could have been that you get what you give and we were enjoying ourselves on the road and maybe this attitude elicited a favourable response. There was one grumpy local who ran a convenience store gas bar in the middle of nowhere and it seemed to me that he wanted to be anywhere but there. But he was definitely in the minority.

Another dog analogy: You know how when you take your dog for a walk, he is always so excited to see another dog? "Woo!" you can practically hear him think, "there is another of my species!" And you want to tell him, it's just another dog. But when you are riding a bicycle out on the road, day after day, and only occasionally see another cyclist, you react the same way. You see the cyclist coming, you start smiling with the anticipation of waving and then you both wave as you pass. We did notice however, that the waving was more subdued with the Spandex crowd, as they were serious cyclists out for a race, or something.

After Shediac, we headed back into Nova Scotia. We got a lift to Pugwash and set out from there after lunch to Tatamagouche. We wanted short days cycling as my knee had not recovered and still hurt with every pedal rotation when it bent. We found Tatamagouche to be a very pretty spot on the road, on an inlet of the Northumberland Strait, with a lot of local pride in the appearance of the town. Lots of flowers in boxes and gardens, nice looking shop signs, and a disused train station that was also a B&B. We had booked the day before at the local motel on the outskirts of town but we walked down the train B&B and had a good look around. We had dinner and then played pool at Big Al's Tavern and turned in for an early night.

From Tatamagouche, we headed straight south on the 311 to Truro. On the way, we finally passed some wild blueberry bushes that were accessible from the road and that didn't belong to someone and we stopped and picked a few handfuls. We had seen a lot of blueberry fields and many of them weren't fenced off from the road but they had signs posted indicating their private nature. These bushes weren't even in a field and just rambled up the side of the ditch by the road. Since it was under 40 km, we got to Truro early and checked in to the Glengarry Best Western early and so decided to do a laundry. We found a laundromat within easy walking distance and it had a handy restaurant called the Wooden Hog right across the street where we had a snack and a drink while our clothes washed themselves. Later, we walked in the other direction from the motel and had dinner at Frank and Gino's, a restaurant that Peter had discovered on his previous solo trip. Piles of pasta which we really didn't need considering we weren't on the road for long these days.

Once we hit the road the next day, I realized that my knee was going to bother me more than I had anticipated so we bailed out of a B&B reservation we had made much earlier, because it was off the beaten track and we were going for the most direct route back to Halifax. Because we cancelled that day, they charged us for the night anyway, which was kind of a bummer. We ended up at another nice B&B (the By the Way ) in Elmsdale which is very near the Halifax airport, which is way out of Halifax. When you are in a car, everything seems close but on a bike, it's a day's ride. By coincidence, we ran into the same couple who we had met a week before at our very first B&B in Stewiacke. They had done their trip to Cape Breton and we going to fly out the next day so they had chosen our B&B as close to the airport.

The next day was to be our last on the road, as we were ending up in Halifax and back at The Citadel Hotel where we'd left our suitcases. We had left Halifax by taking the 2 out through Bedford and so we decided to come back through Dartmouth for a different perspective. We came in on the 7 on the other side of the Bedford Basin and happened to ride alongside the railway tracks for a while, just as a freight train also went by.

And we finally came across a bakery when we were hungry so we stopped and had scones and coffee. Then we got lost. Mixed up is more like it - we were on the Windmill Road and wanted to stay on it until we got to the ferry terminal. Somehow, we got routed on to a four lane ring road and ended up whizzing downhill at 60 kph, passed by cars doing 110 and thinking we might die right there. In fact, it was the only time in the trip where we really hesitated, because we didn't know, at the top of the giant hill that we had climbed only to find out it turned into a highway, if we should go back and struggle up another hill or just take the highway. Happily, we discovered the four lane bypass ended abruptly when it hit downtown Dartmouth again and we wheeled safely into a Horton's for a much needed pee break.

We found the ferry terminal with no problems and had a nice if cool boat ride across the harbour to the Halifax side. The ground slopes very sharply upwards from the water at that point and we routed ourselves slightly off to the north so we could come in from an angle to the hotel, and not kill ourselves with the last giant hill. We triumphantly showed up at the hotel and pushed the bike right into the lobby. We had asked for a ground floor room on returning and they had one for us so we were able to put the bike in the room and not have to disassemble it immediately. We got to see more of Halifax and then take the bike apart leisurely the next day. It all fit back into the suitcases, along with helmets and panniers. We hadn't picked up many souvenirs and the ones we had were small. On future trips, we anticipate sending things home by mail or courier if we get things that are too big to pack. But it's always best to travel light if you can.

All in all, it was a tremendous success and this trip gave us lots of confidence for our really big adventure, which will be going to Europe next year.

on election results

2007-10-11T19:02:00.001-04:00

I was thinking about the low voter turn-out here in Ontario. It is the lowest turn-out ever. You can check the stats here. The lowest previously was in 1923 with only a 54% turn out. Interestingly, in 1971, there was a 71% turn-out which is very high.

I have been thinking that obviously, people must be content with their lot in life (in Ontario anyway). No one is shooting at us, life is pretty good. So why was the turn out so low in 1923? Was it the post-war euphoria? Coupled with the pre-Depression high? Does this have any parallels with our current situation? Just wondering.

some people...

2007-08-09T14:45:00.000-04:00

I don't know why people keep paying Warren Kinsella for his scribblings. I have often found his blog to be irritating, petty, and stupid - enough so that I don't bother to even look at it any more. In today's Post, he got paid to write the opening line: Graffiti is ubiquitous; it's everywhere. Duh. Check the dictionary: ubiquitous MEANS everywhere.

on sovereignty

2007-08-03T12:56:00.000-04:00

The story about the Russians planting a flag under the North Pole got me to thinking about the hoax I heard about (but never witnessed), perpetrated by Queen's engineering students in the 1970s. It was a tradition for Queen's engineering students to do a remarkable practical joke each year (it could have been for April Fools Day) and while I was at Queen's (the first time anyway), they took apart a Volkswagen Beetle and reassembled it around a telephone pole and one year, they bricked up the entry to an on-campus pub. Well, the year I heard about but didn't see, they went across to New York State and planted a flag there and reclaimed the entire United States for Britain. So you see why I was reminded of the story.

Unfortunately, it appears that Canada's politicians are treating the Russian's planting of the flag as a joke. The Minister of Foreign Affairs is quoted as saying:
"There is no question over Canadian sovereignty in the Arctic. We've made that very clear. We established a long time ago that these are Canadian waters and this is Canadian property," MacKay told CBC News. "You can't go around the world these days dropping a flag somewhere, this isn't the 14th or 15th century. "

I think this is a big mistake. Sending a submarine anywhere is a big and expensive undertaking, not like driving across the border. If the Russians are prepared to make this effort to claim the Pole, then I think their claim should be taken seriously. You cannot claim that "everybody knows" that these are Canadian waters if you never patrol them and never do anything of your own to establish sovereignty.

If you dismiss the Russian's claim as childish and trivial, you run the risk of it being repeated to the point where it will become true in everybody else's eyes. Relying on the "everybody knows" defence will not work when everybody knows that the facts are now different.

blythe spirit

2007-07-24T15:52:00.000-04:00

July 24
I've been having spelling issues lately. I wanted a thorough definition for "blythe" as in "blythe spirits", the name I gave to dancers we saw on the weekend. Dictionary dot com spells it "blithe" which I think looks mean, not happy. So I thought maybe it was a British/US thing but apparently not, as Shelley's poem "To a Skylark", from which Noel Coward took his play title "Blithe Spirit", spells it "blithe".

When I was growing up, we had a cookie tin on which was printed the poem about what one is like if one is born on a certain day of the week. I read it so much that I had it memorized (too many cookies, perhaps). Some years after noticing it as a kid, it occurred to me to ask what day of the week I had been born on and Mum told me it was Sunday. Ever since then, I have been a little conceited about it.

(From Dictionary dot com:) blithe
O.E. bliþe "joyous, kind," from P.Gmc. *blithiz "gentle, kind" (cf. O.S. bliði "bright, happy," O.N. bliðr "mild, gentle," O.H.G. blidi "gay, friendly," Goth. bleiþs "kind, friendly, merciful"). Rare since 16c. No cognates outside Gmc. "The earlier application was to the outward expression of kindly feeling, sympathy, affection to others, as in Gothic and ON.; but in OE. the word had come more usually to be applied to the external manifestation of one's own pleased or happy frame of mind, and hence even to the state itself." [OED]

The Poem

Monday's child is fair of face
Tuesday's child is full of grace
Wednesday's child is full of woe
Thursday's child has far to go
Friday's child is loving and giving
Saturday's child works hard for a living
But the child that is born on the Sabbath Day
is bonny, blythe, good and gay.

(I always thought it was a little tough on Wednesday's kid.)

Bike ride

2007-07-23T12:55:00.001-04:00

Yesterday we went out on our longest yet tandem ride. It was "bike path Sunday" where the NCC closes several parkways to cars and people walking, on bike or roller blades or any people-powered equipment can have the road to themselves. It's very popular. I decided to take the camera along because I've become used to the back seat on the tandem and have relaxed my grip-of-death enough to be able to take photos. Most of the photos are here at Flickr and you can view them as a slide show. Also, Peter took several of what I am calling the "Blythe Spirits" and he'll be organizing those at his Flickr Site later.

Here is my view from the back of the bike. In fact, I can easily turn my head and see fine except for dead ahead so I have no complaints. People have asked me why I don't ride up front. It takes more physical strength to steer and balance the bike up there and Peter is just bigger and stronger than I am. And frankly, even as a feminist, I don't have to be in command all the time and I am happy to let him "be the man" when it works for both of us.

Pedal just a few minutes past the bus (transit) station and it looks like you are in the country, although you can still hear some city noises here and there.

We are fortunate to be able to live in a very green city with rivers and a canal running through it. Over Peter's left shoulder is the downtown area - the left-most pointy tower is the Peace Tower on the Parliament buildings and left of it, the shiny thing that looks like a dome is the Parliamentary Library, newly restored. You can see a tiny bit of the river on the left.

This scene isn't typical of the downtown business core but it is part of Ottawa. It's Sussex Drive where many of the embassies are, as well as the Prime Minister's residence and that of the Governor General (the GG to us). It is pleasant to look at and they have finally painted a bike path along it.

Pretending we were tourists, we got another tourist to take our picture in front of one of the GG's Footguards.

We biked from home to downtown and then south along Colonel By to Hog's Back and then back downtown again. From there we headed East to the Aviation Parkway and along the way, noticed that they had just let the horses out for a run at the RCMP Musical Ride training facilities.

After 50 kms (31 miles) we decided to pack it in and have a late lunch. Not too many beer were allowed as we still had 15 kms to go before we got home. We ate at the Empire Grill in the Market. Good food and nice location. And fancy Flash web site!

On the way home, we stopped by Parliament Hill ("the Hill") where they still allow foot and bike traffic but no vehicles for security reasons. We didn't have much gear on the bike but it was heavy to pick up the back end, even so.

Along the bike path along the river, we passed several interpretive spots that educated us about our predecessors, the lumbermen and the explorers who used the river. Here I am, putting my back into paddling that canoe.

Finally, at the spot on the river about 12 kms from home, where an artist puts up rock sculptures each Spring after the ice melts, we came across an interpretive "street" performance. We neglected to go look at the signs they had posted so I'm not sure what it was but it was quite entertaining, with the women dressed in red and moving in slow motion, sometimes completely immersed in the water. Someone had been playing a cello which stood down on the rocks but it was quiet when we got there. We watched for a while and Peter took several photos which he will put up on his Flickr site later. Someone Peter works with came by walking her dog and we chatted for a while. There were many passersby who stopped with their kids and dogs and such and it made for a nice break in the getting home. By the time we did get home, it was close to 6 pm and we had spent 67 kms out on the road. Not as much as we are planning to do each day on our bike trip Down East but a good start.

Update! Peter has posted the rest of the Blythe Spirits! He has such an eye.

8 things

2007-07-03T13:08:00.000-04:00

July 3, 2007

I've been tagged by Granny J.
Here are the rules she gave me:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each participant posts eight random facts about themselves.
3. Tagees should write a blogpost of eight random facts about themselves.
4. At the end of the post, eight more bloggers are tagged
5. Go to their blog, leave a comment telling them they're tagged.

I don't think I know 8 bloggers well enough to tag them. And it seems to me that I have done something similar in the past. But I guess I can try to come up with 8 random facts. I'll think in chronological order (as far as that goes).

8 facts about me...

1. I don't remember anything before I was about 5 years old. Some people say they remember being born. Hmm. I just recently wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that I was born with an astigmatism and nearsightedness and maybe I couldn't see anything past the end of my nose until I got glasses, which was when I went to kindergarten and couldn't see the blackboard, and so, because I couldn't see anything, I didn't remember anything? Thanks goodness I could see up close because at least I learned to read by the time I was 4 or 5. Or so I'm told - I don't remember.

2. I remember thinking I was lost in the woods when we lived at CFB Petawawa when I was in grade 2 (that was about 1965). In retrospect, the woods weren't very deep and they covered a hillside that sloped down to a golf course. But one day I was out exploring things with another little girl and we got into the woods and floundered around in there. I stepped in a puddle and soaked my white ankle sock in mud - I think the worst part was wondering what my mother would do to me when I got home and showed her the sock. Anyway, the other kid and I found our way out and went home. I think I rinsed my sock out in the sink and stuffed it into the laundry basket without saying anything. I never did know if Mum found out. Mum?

3. When I was in grades 3, 4 and 5, we lived in the States. My Dad was an exchange officer who was learning about how the U.S. military did things like support and logistics. We lived at Fort Lee, Virginia and I went to local schools there. Years later, it occurred to me that every day that I went to school, I not only said the Lord's Prayer every morning, but I pledged allegiance to the American flag! I asked Mum about it (I was probably in my 20s when I did so) and said, "how could you let your children pledge allegiance to a foreign flag?" and she replied, "It didn't hurt you did it?" And she was right. Even today, when someone starts up the pledge of allegiance, my right hand heads to my heart and I know all the words.

4. Also when we lived in Virginia, we had a little sailboat. One day, when we were out sailing on the Chesapeake Bay, some dolphins appeared and surfed on our bow wave. Since the boat was only 21 feet long, we could almost lean out over the side and touch the dolphins. They were unafraid and would roll on their sides a little to have a better look at us. It only lasted a few minutes, but it's a memory for a lifetime.

5. When I was in grade 6, we lived in Kingston Ontario and I walked in the Miles for Millions march that summer. It was 27 miles (before we went metric) and that day, it rained the whole day. I wore the equivalent of Keds - an unsupported running shoe. I walked the entire 27 miles and I couldn't get out of bed to walk the next day.

6. When I was in grades 9 and 10, we lived at CFB Borden and the big thing at our high school was Reach for the Top. I wanted to be on the reach for the Top Team so bad, I could taste it. However, in the summer between grades 10 and 11, Dad was posted to Europe. Not bad in retrospect but I felt cheated out of that team experience. I only told him recently and he felt a bit bad about it but what could have been done anyway? It was his job. So I have decided that one day (some day) I will try out for Jeopardy (again - I actually did once and didn't make the cut) and this will be the story I tell Alex Trebek (assuming he is still the host) as my bit of trivia, because he was once one of the hosts for Reach for the Top.

7. Rather than kill an insect in the house, I will spend five minutes trying to direct it outside. I just did that, with a housefly of all things. Exhausted moths I can just pick up in my hands and put outside. Active things like spiders are much more difficult - you have to use something like an empty margarine container and a piece of cardboard. But I have no hesitation in killing a mosquito.

8. I currently want to do something useful with my life that will also pay me a living wage. Something where I can use the things I've learned over 49 years and the talents I have naturally. And I cannot seem to find such a thing. So I am going to write this book I've had in my head for only a few weeks and see what happens with it. I was going back over some of these old blog entries for whatever reason and stumbled upon one dealing with themes. And the theme that I glommed onto at the end of the entry was "belonging" and sure enough, that is one of the themes of the newest book idea. That and community. But I have to go write it now.

Instead of tagging bloggers, if you read this entry and want to do this exercise, let me know in the comments when you have done it.

Proust and Glory

2007-06-29T12:53:00.000-04:00

June 29
In a previous entry, I wondered about Proust in the comments. The reason I have been thinking about Proust is mostly because of the entries at Orange Crate Art, a blog by an English prof. Now, he has an entire entry on how to read Proust so I'm wondering what excuse I can use to continue to avoid reading "Remembrance of Things Past". And is that the same as "In Search of Lost Time" except for the translation? Okay it is, I looked it up in Wikipedia.

Phrase for the day:

sic transit gloria mundi: So the glory of this world passes away. (An exclamatory phrase used at the installations of the popes.)

Sic transit gloria mundi is a Latin phrase that means "Thus passes the glory of the world," but is more commonly interpreted as "Fame is fleeting."

about birthdays

2007-06-22T08:27:00.000-04:00

June 22

As if I need another reason to like The Manolo, he feels about birthdays the same way I do! Next year will be the big five-o for me and I plan to stretch that celebration out as long as I can, somewhat the way we are doing this year for our 25th anniversary. I actually haven't planned anything yet, but I'm thinking about it.

my second day on the build

2007-06-21T14:37:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the Summer Solstice. I spent yesterday at the Habitat for Humanity "Women Build" and it was as fun at the first day, even though it was a longer day and not as hot.

When I got home, it was about 6pm and I changed the dirty shirt I'd worked in all day for the new pink Women Build shirt they gave us volunteers. Here I am, pretending to flex my biceps.

Here is the back of the shirt. At the bottom, under the blueprint drawing it says "My plans for the weekend". Fun stuff.

This is Sam, who worked most of the day with me as a small team building sill plates. She is standing on the scaffolding inside the basement walls and her hands are resting on a sill plate. It is just a 2 by 6 bolted to the concrete but it in turn is resting on a foam gasket to which is applied some sticky black goop by means of a caulking gun. We had to walk around on the scaffolding, measuring the sections of the foundation and then asking for a 2 by 6 to be cut to a certain size. When we got the 2 by 6, we would rest it on top of the bolts and then bang a hammer onto it to mark the underside with the ends of the bolts. Having first pencilled the word "UP" on the proper side of the 2 by 6, we would then turn it over to see the bolt marks and then drill holes through the board for the bolts. My pecs hurt today from all the work done, just on sill plates.

By 3pm, we had still not finished our work but the people who lent us the scaffolding wanted it back and so we were reduced to applying the sill plates using ladders from the outside of the foundation. We thought it was hard work before but now we had to climb up and down ladders and move them for every section of the foundation.

Sam took this picture with my camera, of the other work that was also going on. The main beam for the house had to be constructed on the spot and other crew members nailed together four layers of 2 by 10s (maybe they were 2 by 8s, I'm not sure) and then had to hoist it up into one slot in the foundation wall and support it with expansion posts along its length and at the other end - the common wall for the duplex. Then they started putting up the floor joists and Sam and I had to hurry up with the sill plates on the common wall or we would have had no room on the side where the scaffolding was.

This gives you a good idea of the excavation. The truck had arrived to take away the scaffolding and Chris was working at getting it out of the foundation and onto the green truck - along with a bunch of other people - I don't know why he is all alone in this photo.

The site is located on a small residential street but we access it for convenience by way of a vacant lot on Main Street. The sign advertising the build was originally at the proper entrance to the lot but they moved it yesterday to the Main Street side and attached it to the giant storage bin that looks like a dumpster but isn't. On the far left of this photo are two marquees that shelter tables, chairs, benches and belongings. They get stored every night in the big bin and put up each morning at 7 when crew shows up.

I won't be working at the build again until August but I am already looking forward to it. The professional crew are great to work for and the volunteers are great to work with. (I put all 20 photos up at my Flickr site so you can check them out.)

word for today

2007-06-19T14:01:00.000-04:00

June 19, 2007
bathos: 1. a ludicrous descent from the exalted or lofty to the commonplace; anticlimax.
2. insincere pathos; sentimentality; mawkishness.
3. triteness or triviality in style.
—Synonyms 2. maudlinness, tearfulness; mush, gush, schmaltz. 3. insipidity, inanity.

I often have to look up words at the blogs I really like - I like the more challenging writers. What's the fun if it's all bland and boring stuff you can get anywhere? Of course, I still don't like (or get, I guess) post-modern type writers. I tried, really I did, reading The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje but couldn't get into it. And that was after I saw the movie and so understood the concept. Why can't writers write more like David Lodge who once described deconstructionism as sawing through the branch of a tree while sitting on the distal end of the same branch. Actually he did it better than that but I couldn't find the quote, which I remember from reading one of his books - probably "Nice Work", back in 1996.

Anyway, I found "bathos" in A Dress A Day today, which does have to do with dresses but also is about good writing.

not a new word but I couldn't spell it

2007-06-18T10:23:00.000-04:00

June 18, 2007
Forbearance. I had originally written it "forebearance" and it got underlined by the spell-check. I tried "forebearence" but that didn't work either. Finally I looked up "forebear" and it said it meant one's ancestors. Well, that wasn't right. So I left off the first "e" and was able to find out that the root of the word I wanted was spelled "forbear".
1. to refrain or abstain from; desist from.
2. to keep back; withhold.
3. Obsolete. to endure.
4. to refrain; hold back.
5. to be patient or self-controlled when subject to annoyance or provocation.

I was writing a comment on Jenny's blog. Her newest puppy to raise for Guide Dogs is quite the handful and I am in sympathy as Rockwell could also be the handful.

About the Bike

2007-06-14T15:13:00.000-04:00

I mentioned over at my sewing blog that we are getting a tandem for our 25th anniversary. It is a travel bike from Bike Friday and will be added to our collection of bikes:

There's a lot to the ordering of it because everything is custom and you have to choose which components you want, which bars, which everything, including colour. And the tubes are cut to the measurements we provide so it should fit us really well.

In the meanwhile, I have been gardening and planted a bunch of bean seeds when I couldn't find any bean plants at the Loblaws or the Home Depot (three million green pepper plants but no beans). I didn't think the beans would sprout because I'd been trying to sprout them in egg crates for weeks and nothing was happening. So I shoved many seeds in the ground and then forgot about them until last night when we were sitting out and I looked and said (in Scotty's voice), "Look Captain! There be beans here!" You have to be a Star Trek IV fan to get it, sorry.

Now I will have to cull some of them and maybe plant them where there is a little room in the south garden. That sounds so grand "the south garden". It's just the three foot wide strip on the south side of the patio.

Habitat Build

2007-06-14T14:57:00.000-04:00

I had a really fun day yesterday, working at the Habitat for Humanity "Women Build" here near Ottawa (Stittsville to be exact). There were men and women there and at least a dozen of us, so even when we were sitting around waiting for the gravel truck (not just any kind but a Stone Slinger!), we had people to talk with and found things to do. There were two women in the military and I talked with one young woman (only 18 and there after finishing her first year at Waterloo) whose family had also raised a guide dog puppy!

I got a blister hammering window forms but that was my own fault because I took off my work gloves because it was difficult to pick the nails out of my tool belt pockets. The minister of the local church just down the street came in the morning to give us a blessing and then lunch was supplied by The Works at that church and we were helped by the local church ladies. They had even set the tables with cloths and vases of beautiful peonies.

I'm scheduled to work again next Wednesday and hope to remember to bring my camera. Along with my own tape measure and hammer, as they were in short supply. If my schedule permits, I want to continue work at the site when they start up again in August - they are not doing any work in July (not clear why). But I'm glad I went.

some answers, maybe

2007-06-08T11:12:00.000-04:00

June 8, 2007

I was reading Kent's Bike Blog just now. I like the way he writes and I like what he writes about. This time he was writing about this fellow sort of busking by the side of the road. Although the busker was also trying to spread the word about Jesus, Kent was more appreciative of his bicycle and bike accessories. They had a nice conversation about bikes and cars, about learning, and about how we don't need much stuff. I was going to put a simple comment on the blog entry as follows: "The message is always out there. We just need to be ready to hear it." But then I thought it might be misconstrued as being about Jesus and I really meant it as a more general comment on how we can always learn something about anything in life. So I decided to take a break from my run of definitions and put the comment here. Although, I must say I had to use dictionary.com to look up "busking" because my spell-check thought it was wrong. But it is a verb now.

Anyway, there is one philosophy I have learned the hard way:
"The message is always out there. We just need to be ready to hear it."
Maybe others have articulated it, I don't know, but this is one of my own answers to the question of "life, the universe and everything". The main philosophy that I have articulated over the years, in answer to the questions about how we can make life easier is "Pay Attention". It works for everything. Try it.

word for today

2007-06-07T15:26:00.000-04:00

June 7, 2007

an·te·bel·lum (ān'tē-běl'əm) adj. Belonging to the period before a war, especially the American Civil War.
[Latin ante bellum : ante, before + bellum, war.]

I knew it was "before" something but didn't pause long enough to parse "bellum" into its other incarnations such as "bellicose" or war-like. When I was in grades 3 through 5, we lived in the tidewater area of Virginia and we visited many of the antebellum plantations on school trips and family outings. For some reason, I confuse this word with "antediluvian" which is "before the flood". On the other hand -- "war", "flood" -- they both tend to end up as a big mess that someone has to clean up.

I was reading this entry at Orange Crate Art and it got me thinking.

word for today

2007-06-05T12:31:00.000-04:00

June 5, 2007
ped·a·go·gy [ped-uh-goh-jee, -goj-ee] –noun, plural -gies.
1. the function or work of a teacher; teaching.
2. the art or science of teaching; education; instructional methods.

[Origin: 1575–85; < Gk paidagōgía office of a child's tutor.]

ped·a·gog·ic (pěd'ə-gŏj'ĭk, -gō'jĭk) adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of pedagogy.
2. Characterized by pedantic formality: a haughty, pedagogic manner.

I may end up working with someone to develop a workshop about blogs and teaching but that's another story. In the meantime, I was looking into the subject and I noticed that one of the words used a lot by people at the college (or so it seems to me) is "pedagogy" and it is used instead of the word "teach". Now, I think it's a good idea to have a large vocabulary and to exercise it as much as one can. But there are some words that don't work for me and this is one of them. Perhaps my negative view of the word comes from the second meaning of "pedagogic" above. Merely using the word "pedagogic" seems hoity-toity and reinforces the negativity.

another word

2007-06-04T16:40:00.000-04:00

June 4, 2007

se·que·la [si-kwee-luh] –noun, plural -lae Pathology.
an abnormal condition resulting from a previous disease.

se·quel·a (sĭ-kwěl'ə) n. pl. se·quel·ae (-kwěl'ē)
1. A pathological condition resulting from a disease.
2. A secondary consequence or result.

In Schedule 3 (Occupational diseases) of one of the Regulations to the Workplace Safety and Insurance Act, one of the headings was: "Poisoning and its Sequelae". I am reading the Act and Regulations in order to inform myself before I take a computer test to try to qualify as an adjudicator to the WSIA Tribunal. I figured I could guess what "sequelae" was but thought I should look it up to be sure.

words for today

2007-06-01T16:08:00.001-04:00

May 31, 2007

cop·pice (kŏp'ĭs)
n. A thicket or grove of small trees or shrubs, especially one maintained by periodic cutting or pruning to encourage suckering, as in the cultivation of cinnamon trees for their bark.
I was watching a video and the author used the word "copiced" in a written comment while filming an open brush area of the forest where she walks her dogs. I am guessing she may have spelled it incorrectly but then turned it into a verb to make a point. Interesting growth of the language.

June 1, 2007

Fettle. I've certainly heard of it before but it has always been used in the expression "fine fettle" and today Lileks used it this way: "Actually, I’m in a passable fettle" so I thought I'd look up the origins to see if it could be used that way other than in humour.
–noun
1. state; condition: in fine fettle.
–verb (used with object)
2. Ceramics. to remove mold marks from (a cast piece).
3. Metallurgy.
a. to remove sand from (a casting).
b. to repair the hearth of (an open-hearth furnace).

[Origin: 1300–50; ME fetle to shape, prepare, back formation from fetled, OE fetelede girded up, equiv. to fetel belt + -ede ]

Anniversary

2007-05-20T10:53:00.000-04:00

Our 25th anniversary is tomorrow but we went out yesterday to start the celebrations because the weather was supposed to be the best day of the weekend. We've also decided to draw out our celebrations over the entire year and not just stick to the one weekend.

The day started with flowers being delivered. The photo doesn't do them justice. Peter had gone on line and finally chose just the right combination and was as pleased with them as I was when they arrived.

I read in the paper that they were having sheep dog herding exhibits at the Experimental Farm, so in the afternoon, we headed over there to see what we could see. This shepherd is in the process of starting to train his young dog seen here. The dog isn't even 2 years old so he only knew a few commands but it was fun to watch.

We took in a demonstration of sheep shearing. They always look so silly, sitting on their bums but they don't seem to mind and they don't struggle in that position.

We went around and saw the lambs. These fellows were quite grown up but there were quadruplets born only 30 hours previously that looked too fragile for words. In a different barn we saw some of the draft horses and I stood and watched one named King while he was having his lunch of some very dry hay. It seemed like he was eyeballing me a little but there were signs all around indicating we shouldn't touch the animals so I forbore. Suddenly, he tossed his head and I was showered with tiny bits of hay that went down my blouse and into every clothing crevice I had. I had to find a washroom and take my blouse off to shake it out, I was so inundated with hay.

After we had seen all we wanted, we trekked across some fields to get to Dow's Lake where the tulip festival shuttle bus terminus was. We decided to have a beer first and watch the crowds and took yet another practically identical pub shot of the two of us. We'll have to put all the pub shots like this together in a repetitive album one day. It was also at this stop that we started listening to the Senator's game they had playing on the radio. When we left Dow's Lake, they were halfway through the third period with the Sens leading, 2 to 1.

By the time we got to the Market, I was surprised to hear on various televisions in pubs that we passed that the game was still on and they were in overtime. Finally, the Sens got the overtime goal and won the game and from then on, all the fans came out onto the street and drove around, honking horns and shouting and waving flags. What will they do when we win the actual Cup!? Everyone seemed to be on their best behaviour which was nice. There was a considerable and highly visible police presence in the market the whole time we were there and I think that contributed to the relaxed atmosphere.

Finally, on the way home, we noticed that Venus was very close to a beautiful crescent moon and in admiring the view, we decided to take a photo. Of course, it was hand-held and therefore not accurate at all but I thought it resulted in an interesting shot. So, happy anniversary to us and this is just the start of 365 days of celebrating!

more words

2007-05-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

perfervid (context: In Randall Denley's column today, he was writing about Andrew Cohen's book critique of Ottawa as a lame city and he wrote: "Here I thought I was one of its most perfervid critics, not the chief yokel, a Babbitt-like defender of the dull.") Very fervent; extremely ardent; impassioned. Extremely or extravagantly eager or zealous.

What got me about the whole thing was how free these newspaper columnists are in their criticism of others. I know it's their job and maybe that's why I wouldn't want the job, even if I DO have lots of opinions. I don't think I could stand to read what others said about me. Even when I just write an opinionated letter to the editor, I get a frisson of fear up my back when it appears in print, thinking that someone will read my letter and disagree with me and SAY SO. Ack. Of course, I DO blog and what is that but an open invitation for criticism? I'll have to think about that one some more. (frisson: a sudden, passing sensation of excitement; a shudder of emotion; thrill: The movie offers the viewer the occasional frisson of seeing a character in mortal danger.)

on words

2007-05-01T11:29:00.000-04:00

Words I've looked up lately (at http://dictionary.reference.com )

The idea to keep track started recently with "anodyne" but the germ was planted earlier with "simulacrum" and embiggened by "encromulate".

simulacrum (context "the simulacrum of youth" at http://shoeblogs.com/wordpress/2007/02/07/seventy-is-the-new-forty/ ) 1. a slight, unreal, or superficial likeness or semblance. 2. an effigy, image, or representation
February 7, 2007

anodyne (context: "This lends her Notebook an anodyne quality. " at http://festeringswamp.journalspace.com/?entryid=30 ) 1. a medicine that relieves or allays pain. 4. soothing to the mind or feelings.
April 24, 2007

encromulate (context: "A good full-body sneeze encromulates the frame, as the poet said." at http://www.lileks.com/bleats/archive/07/0407/041307.html )
From James Lileks himself: "Sorry; it's a Simpsons reference. Even worse, it's a reference to something actually never said on the Simpsons, but implied."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Made-up_words_in_The_Simpsons#Cromulent_and_Embiggen "cromulent means valid, acceptable, or possibly commonplace"
Apr 13, 2007

syllabus (context: I use the word a lot at college but wasn't sure of its real meaning and am relieved to discover I do use it correctly.) an outline or other brief statement of the main points of a discourse, the subjects of a course of lectures, the contents of a curriculum, etc.
April 27, 2007

on light bulbs

2007-04-30T09:15:00.000-04:00

I sent this off as a letter to the editor this morning. It's not much to start this old blog up again, but it is a start. Enjoy.

This morning I noticed that one of the bulbs in my bathroom light fixture was burnt out and I realized I would have to go buy at least ten of them to sustain me over the next years when incandescent bulbs become unavailable and before I am ready to throw away the entire light fixture and buy a new one. Will someone please save us from useless legislation? Politicians like to be seen to be doing something (anything) and so this time, they have decided to ban the incandescent light bulb for being energy inefficient. Who will object, they think. Anybody who says they want to keep the old bulbs will just be seen as a wastrel. But what about the waste of getting rid of all those light fixtures that cannot fit a compact fluorescent? Politicians, please let the market decide on this one. If you want to been seen to be doing something for the environment, ride a bicycle. I do.

things to do today

2006-11-04T07:30:00.000-05:00

Things to do today that don't involve writing or drawing:

Go out for breakfast (date already confirmed with our friend - pick up at 8am).

Go vote in the advance poll for the mayoral election (never wait until polling day if you can help it.)

Go to FabricLand because they have a double-points day. I have been looking at some nice fake wools for a skirt and jacket combo (in shades of purple) and for a new Winter coat. They are on sale (the last time I was there) for $6.99 per metre so I really can't go wrong.

Finish digging up the garden, put away the tomato cages and plant the crocus bulbs for Spring.

Vacuum and dust.

Sew.

Yesterday I was successful in writing 1400 words for NaNoWriMo because I went to the coffee shop where I couldn't really do anything but write. Here at home, there are far too many things I "should" (or could) be doing, not the least of which is playing on the computer. I think after I get some of the above things done, I shall hie myself off to the coffee shop again and write some more. I know where I'm going in the next "section" of my novel so it's just a matter of writing it down.

Pumpkins

2006-10-30T18:34:00.000-05:00

I got the pumpkins carved today. But one needs some more work which I may do tonight or tomorrow - there's still time.

This pumpkin was a nice shape but it had a bad spot on one side. No matter - that would be the back. But I've been keeping the pumpkins uncarved, outside for the last two weeks and a squirrel chewed on a spot. I actually caught him in the act, if not on film.

Now I've cut the tops open and scooped out the insides on both pumpkins. You can even see on the tall, narrow pumpkin where a squirrel chewed too!

Here are Sleepy and Happy, deployed in a test run, complete with candles. I have to scrape out more of the inside on Sleepy so the light shines through better. And then I have to get Peter to take a photo where the flash doesn't wash out the light effect. Tomorrow. And then one of these days, I'm going to come up a costume idea so we can dress up! I want our costumes to be complimentary (an historical couple or something), warm because it's Canada eh, and comfy. I don't mind elaborate and they can't be too easy to guess but they definitely have to look like costumes and not just like we dressed oddly that day. I was actually thinking about van Eyck's Arnolfini wedding (as I once was an art history major) but then that might be a little TOO obscure. Looking at it again however, we would be warm!

Cold and wet and my roots

2006-10-28T18:14:00.000-04:00

Last night, I'm sitting watching tv and feeling the cold I got on Monday (I refuse to identify a rhino virus as "mine") and wondering what can I have to drink - not to get impaired but just to have something nice to drink. I go look at the "liquor cabinet" (five bottles over the sink) and rediscover the bottle of Laphrohaig. I pour an ounce and a half in a nice cut crystal glass and top it up with the same amount of water - no ice. I sip - no wonder "whisky" means "water of life".

I think about my "roots". One quarter (at least) is Scottish. I want to visit Scotland and tramp around the hills in the cold and damp and stop at every pub I pass and have a glass of the local whisky. I want to feel to salt air of the North Sea on my face and stand, leaning into the wind on the Orkney Isles and fall down if the wind stops blowing (go read Bill Bryson's "Notes from a Small Island").

Then I recalled another quarter of my heritage which is Friesian. Take a look at a map and find the North Sea. Scotland is on one side and Friesland is on the other (okay it is a little bit "south" but not that far). I also want to tramp along the dunes on the coast of Holland and feel the cold salt wind in my face, giving me chapped lips and chilblains. No wonder I am who I am! In fact, I have walked the dunes and spent some time in Friesland and I cherish the memories. I want the same chance at Scotland.

This morning, it is raining and windy and about 4C and I decide that I have to get a few groceries and I'd better do it now in case it snows later as they are predicting. I put on some GoreTex pants, two sweaters and my GoreTex bike rain jacket. I find a hat we got out of a case of beer some years ago - it is some funny artificial fabric that I figure will repel instead of absorb water and it has a brim on it and it fits tightly enough that it shouldn't blow off in the wind. Together with the leather-palmed river boating gloves I got at the MEC and my duck boots, I set off on my bike for the grocery store. It's really not that bad out there - at least it's not yet freezing. I get the things on the list and head home. By the time I enter the park on the final leg home, I am singing out loud. Not really loud mind you, in case there actually may be someone else outside, but still - singing. I pass by some Canada geese hanging about in the park. They have ventured close to the path because no one is about today and when they see me coming, they honk in alarm and waddle away. I honk back at them. I do enjoy my heritage sometimes!

Three Things

2006-10-20T18:38:00.000-04:00

I was tagged by ML over at Zee's Space with this meme. Ack! I have such a hard time with some of these things. You want to make yourself sound not too stupid, and yet clever and funny at the same time. Anyway. Here are my Three Things. I won't tag anyone else (too much work!) but if you too can't think of something to blog about and/or are looking for different ways to look at things, this may be useful. Enjoy.

3 things that scare me
Making cold calls (okay, any phone calls)
Trying out for Jeopardy
Unstable people with nukes

3 people who make me laugh
My husband
My sister
Me

3 things I love
Fabric
A good story (in books, movies)
Candlelight

3 things I hate
Cold jellied consomme
Caviar
Looking at litter

3 things I don't understand
People who don't pick up their dog's poop
People who wear too much scent
People who litter

3 things on my desk
Nail file
Lip balm
Coffee cup

3 things I'm doing right now
Drinking coffee
Trying to come up with these 3 things
Thinking about cooking dinner

3 things I want to do before I die
Pet a dolphin
Live out in the elements for weeks (sail around the world, hike the Appalachian Trail, canoe the Nahanni)
Write a book that influences people to try harder

3 things I can do
Draw something so that it looks like something
Ride a bicycle 100km in one day
Cook without recipes (but not baking!)

3 ways to describe my personality
Interested (I can find something interesting in just about anything)
Understanding
Objective

3 things I can't do
An axel
Leave a picture hanging crooked on a wall (even if it's not my wall)
Pass a dog in the street without petting it

3 things I think you should listen to
Your parents
Your friends
Your intuition

3 things I think you should never listen to
Angry "music" (that kind that tells you to beat up people)
People who want to convince you of something for their own benefit
People who put you down just so they can feel superior

3 favorite foods
Cheese
Salt
Vinegar
(This one was too difficult. I like most everything - except consomme and caviar - see above. I think half the reason I like cheese is because it's salty so I have to go with flavour groups. I prefer salt to sweet, vanilla to chocolate, etc.)

3 things I'd like to learn
To play the piano
To fly a plane
To ballroom dance with my husband

3 beverages I drink regularly
Wine (especially red)
Fresca (now that it's back)
Tea

3 shows I watched as a kid
(Kid's shows)
Adventures in Rainbow Country
Daktari
The Wonderful World of Disney

I couldn't think what I used to watch in the 60s so I found this website and what a rush down memory lane! So I herewith include the other shows I know I used to watch every week. I watched other shows too but these I remember in great detail and with fondness.

The Ed Sullivan Show
Adam 12
The Avengers
Hawaii Five-O
Mod Squad
The Saint
The Beverly Hillbillies
Bewitched
The Brady Bunch
The Courtship of Eddie's Father
The Flying Nun
Green Acres
Gilligan's Island
Get Smart
Hogan's Heroes
I Dream of Jeannie
That Girl
Laugh-In
My Three Sons
Peyton Place
Rat Patrol
The Time Tunnel

Thoughts about life and inspiration

2006-10-09T11:48:00.000-04:00

Joan was wondering what season got other people most inspired to be creative and it made me think. There is something to love about all the seasons, and likewise, something to dislike. Summer can be too hot and buggy but I love the warmth, the sun, the relative quiet because people go on holiday, the urge to just hang in the back yard and put one's feet up, the garden. Fall can be wet and cold but for the first 26 years of my life, it was also the herald of new adventures beginning at school. (The 26 years is not entirely accurate of course, as for the first 5 or 6, I didn't go to school. But you know what I mean.) Winter can be even colder, wet and dark but you also get the pure joy of the first snow, you have Christmas, and those crisp cold mornings when the sun sparkles on the ice and snow and everything looks perfect. And Spring can be a dreary slog through the slush but it also means the tiny new buds of green on the trees, the cardinal singing in the top of the maple, the geese honking their way home, the smell of earth unfrozen.

Mostly however, when Joan posed the question, it occurred to me that this would be my first go-round of seasons in 16 years, starting with the current Autumn, that I would be without a dog. I have always enjoyed being outside in any weather but having a dog ensures that you will be outside every day, at least three times a day. In the two weeks I have been without Rockwell, I haven't taken a deliberate evening walk once. Here it is a holiday Monday morning and I haven't been outside except to grab the newspaper. And it is stunningly beautiful out there. We plan to go for a bike ride a bit later, when it warms up a little more and that will completely satisfy the urge to be outside. But I wonder if I shouldn't maybe take an evening walk as I used to, every night. It's a great conclusion to the day and it's quiet out there - time to think and reflect on the day. You see what stage the moon is in, you feel the wind, you sense the coming weather. Orion always appears in the sky at this time of year and I haven't noticed him yet because I haven't been out at night. Is night my favourite time of day? No, I think early morning is. But maybe I think better at night, as if all the thoughts that were swirling around in my head all day start to come together and make sense.

Daily walks with a dog make you notice what the dog notices - the blowing leaves, the squirrels, a whiff of scent on the breeze, other dogs - everything is a bundle of potential. For the dog, the potential is either for something to eat or something to play with. What more could a dog want, really? For the human, the potential is more complex but still, filled with exciting possibilities. The best part of life, I understand now, really is the journey. It isn't arriving because what do you do then? You look for something else to do, some place else to go. Enjoy the journey because that is what life is.

Some commercials are true

2006-10-09T11:08:00.000-04:00

The Tide pen really does work as advertised. While having breakfast one morning in San Diego, I stuck a fork in a home fry and slipped. The small pool of ketchup beside the bit of potato jumped off the plate and splashed across my - wait for it - WHITE corduroy jacket. I jumped up and blotted off as much as I could in the bathroom with paper towels. Then we made a beeline to the nearest pharmacy where I asked for "the Tide pen that Kelly Ripa advertises!" I forget how much it even cost but as soon as we bought it, I deployed it according to the instructions. Most of the orange colour of the remaining ketchup stain came out but there was still a mark. However, the jacket was also wet in the spot from all my blotting so I just hung it over my arm to wait for it to dry and forgot about it for a while. Hours later, I thought to look at it and discovered that it had dried perfectly white, with no trace of the ketchup. I subsequently washed it normally when I got home a few days later and it is as good as new.

Things I never need to buy again

2006-10-04T14:09:00.000-04:00

As far as I know, this started with Dress-a-Day's list wherein she described five things she will never buy again.
Bbrug also has such a list which ranges from cardigans and turtlenecks to stationery and mixing bowls. Of the latter, Bbrug confesses she has 18, "ranging in capacity from "minced capers" to "small sheep, slightly folded"." That last one made me laugh out loud. I think my largest mixing bowl might be able to hold a couple of cats but that's about it.

So what things do I never need to buy again?

Stationery - I agree with this one. I have a file box that normally holds magazines full of stationery, some of which dates from high school or before. And since I graduated from high school in (how old AM I?) 1975, that's enough. If I ever use it all up one day, then I will be allowed to have more.

Post-it notes - I have accumulated stacks of Post-it notes, in varying sizes but all in the original yellow. I think most of them come from my own stores, when I had an office and would buy them in bulk. I hope not too many of them come from pilfering from times when I worked in other peoples' offices. But the newer versions of Post-its with colours and motifs and sayings on them are so much fun that I want to have them too! So I'll apply the same rule as stationery - if I ever run out, then I can buy more.

Coffee cups and mugs - Over 25 years or more, I have purchased various cheap china sets and have broken most of the pieces - plates and bowls and such - except for the coffee cups that come with them. I had such a stack of mismatched cups and saucers about 10 years ago that I wrapped them all up and gave them to Goodwill. And then there are the many promotional mugs with logos on them and the mugs that people give as fun gifts with pictures or sayings on them. If I ever have a coffee party where I invite 40 people, I'll be set, and that doesn't include the 8 espresso cups.

Pens and pencils - This is a tough one. Like the Post-it notes, I have accumulated coffee mugs full of pens and pencils. Sometimes I go through them all and cull the ones that have thankfully dried up in the meantime. But still I accumulate more. Many of them are also of the promotional type, with some business name printed on the side of the barrel. But even some of hem are really nice and you just don't want to throw something away that is so useful. But then I start a project and I want something "special" with which to write. Maybe a new ink colour for the fountain pen cartridges will do? I have a "rule" that I made which says, "no new pens will be brought into this house until all the old ones are gone" but since I break it all the time, it's not doing me any good.

Pleated pants - We both have several pairs of pleated pants that never get worn any more because you should be over 6 feet tall and weigh about 100 pounds (male or female) to be allowed to wear pleated pants and neither of us are or ever will be close to that, and not just because of the height thing. I think this one will be easy to maintain.

Now, if someone looked in the garage and saw the 6 bicycles there (and no car) for the two people who live here, they might add bikes to the list. However, it is really hard to make an all-purpose bike so we have different kinds for different rides. Maybe after there are 6 for each of us, we could stop buying bikes. I can't imagine that shoes will ever be put in this list. I think I have as many pairs as most men, which is to say, not very many. And in spite of what my long-suffering husband might wish, I will not add fabric to this list either. One can never have too much fabric.

on terrorists

2006-08-20T13:28:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about terrorists lately - I wonder why? Someone compared them to a cancer and then a subsequent letter to the editor criticized this on some spurious medical basis. So I've been working on the analogy.

A cancer is a cell in the body that "goes bad". It starts replicating itself (dividing) oddly and sometimes becomes a growth or tumour. Sometimes it affects the cells around it and they start replicating incorrectly. Sometimes, it floats off to other parts of the body and then makes those cells start going bad. Eventually, the cancer, because the cells don't behave like normal cells, causes that part of the body to stop functioning the way it was intended. And sometimes, this causes the whole body to die. When this happens, the cancer also dies, because it has relied on the host body for life. But then a cancer cell doesn't think - it just reproduces.

Let's use Lance Armstrong as an example because his fight with cancer is so well known. It started in a testicle but then it spread to his lungs and brain. The doctors cut the cancer out of his testicle and brain but they used chemotherapy to kill the cancer in his lungs. Different location, different cancer cells - different treatment. In his case, the cancer cells died and he lived and the rest is history.

Now, before the terrorist analogy, we need to discuss "society". The cancer cell lives in a human body. The terrorist lives in a society. It's harder to kill off an entire society than it is to kill off one human body but it is possible to try. What does a society need to "live", to prosper? A family is the smallest unit that could be called a society I suppose. A family chooses to live together and there is a certain amount of cooperation so that essentials get done. Same with a country, really. We all live together and cooperate so that certain things get done.

So can a terrorist be likened to a cancer cell? Except for the fact that a terrorist is a whole person and therefore chooses his actions, I think we can. A terrorist doesn't want to live in society with everyone else and acts to destroy the society. It doesn't seem to matter to him that he might destroy himself in the process. And like a cancer, a bunch of terrorists can form their own sort of society (the tumour) -- which is presumably their goal, to form their own society -- but they really can't survive without a properly functioning society off which to feed. Terrorists don't produce anything except other terrorists. They don't make food or shelter or garments or anything really. A body's various parts work together to help the whole thing survive - the lungs bring in and convert oxygen, the blood pumps it and nutrients around, the guts digest nutrients, etc. A society does that too. But a society of terrorists can't survive without a host.

I think we are justified as a functioning society in treating terrorists like a cancer. We have to get rid of them because ultimately, they will kill us and themselves. And even if they don't kill us all (because societies are a lot more resilient than a single human body), they may reduce our society to something that barely functions.

Some societies are more successful than others, if success is rated on a scale of contentment of its members, financial prosperity, tolerance and the ability to leave others alone -- things like that. There is a really great book on what makes a prosperous society called "The Birth of Plenty" and the author posits that you must have Property (private property rights), Reason, Capital, and Communication (transportation, power, light). It is obvious which societies have all four components - North America, Europe, Japan. If terrorists succeed in knocking out parts of the complex machine that make up a successful society, then I think we had better resign ourselves to living much more primitively than we now do. That's not something I want to contemplate.

on gay marriage

2006-08-15T09:37:00.000-04:00

I would find it refreshing if an opponent of gay marriage would come right out (pardon the expression) and state the real reason for his opposition. He should say, "I'm a social conservative and I like things to be the way they've always been, at least in my memory. I don't want any changes to society, even if they might actually improve things. That's why my predecessors in spirit opposed women voting - it was a change to society. In fact, just because women have the vote now doesn't mean it is a good thing. It wasn't long enough ago that women got the vote to make me comfortable with it. So while I recognize that eventually there may be gay marriage, I don't think it should happen here until all the other countries in the world have had it for at least 100 years and then I'll be dead so it won't matter to me."

the middle east

2006-08-14T12:49:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about the past month's troubles in Israel and Lebanon. I even got a book from the library on a history of the holy land - and I have two more requested that haven't arrived yet. From my first reading of the first history book, it looks like nothing has changed over the past 4000 years or so. First one group and then another fight for power and control and who gets to charge taxes. The strongest group gets control for a while. A lot depends on the personality of the leader of the strong group. When that changes (he is often assassinated no matter what his origin or culture) then power changes.

My understanding of the present problem is that Hezbollah fired rockets into Israel and then kidnapped some soldiers so Israel fought back. It reminds me of a playground fight - one kid picks on the other and then there's a fight. Does it matter who started it? Sure it does, both in the playground and in the Middle East.

Unfortunately, innocent civilians in Lebanon are paying the price because Hezbollah hides in Lebanon. I thought back to the late 60s and early 70s when I was a kid living in Quebec. Quebec had a lame sort of terrorist organization called the FLQ. I say "lame" because they weren't violent much, thank goodness. They did kill a man but they didn't have suicide bombers targeting marketplaces like Hezbollah does. Anyway, what if the FLQ were violent and the army was called on to quell the terrorism? But what if the FLQ had rockets and fired them at Ottawa? Would the army be justified in firing rockets back at suspected FLQ locations? And what if civilians were killed in the cross fire?

I understand it's not a direct parallel but if the legitimate army stood down and stopped trying to kill the FLQ, there would be nothing to prevent the FLQ from continuing its attacks. Should the army track down the FLQ terrorists one by one and arrest them, all the meanwhile suffering bombing attacks on the rest of Canada? So what happens in the Middle East when Israel stops firing rockets at Hezbollah? Will Hezbollah stop too? And what if it doesn't? What should Israel do if (when) Hezbollah attacks it again?

Tomatoes and Sunday Bike Day

2006-07-31T21:41:00.000-04:00

At long last, the tomatoes have begun to ripen.

I bought four plants and one of them was billed as a yellow cherry tomato. It turns out, the label was correct. However, the one plant is much smaller than the other tomato plants and it doesn't look like they will catch up.

Even the red ones are slow to come along.

But they do look nice, all in a bowl together. Too bad it's not more.

Sundays, they close off some of the roads until 1pm and we usually go for a ride. Yesterday, we biked toward downtown and then crossed the bridge at Island Park and continued on the Quebec side of the river. We crossed back at the bridge leading into the downtown core (the Interprovincial I think), the one with the pedestrian and bike side planked in wood. That's me with the Museum of Civilization in the background (on the Quebec side of the river).

Here's Peter with Parliament Hill in the background (the Ottawa side). A little touristy perhaps but it does make for a good picture. Peter is mugging for the camera a little.

Here I am, struggling up the hill toward the top of the steep set of locks at the end of the Rideau Canal. There are a lot of people leaning over the bridge at the very top, watching the boats.

These boats had reached the top of the several steps and are about to be released into the canal proper.

We got back to the Pretoria Bridge a bit after noon and stopped for a bite. Peter's checking his bike computer. We did about 37 kms that day - not too hot or humid for a change.

on keeping recipes secret

2006-07-20T15:15:00.000-04:00

The other day, I got two requests for recipes and both of the requesters asked if I kept recipes secret. In one, I said, "I don't GET people who keep recipes secret" and typed out my recipe for potato salad. In the other, I wrote out instructions for my way of keeping burger patties from falling apart. Later I thought about it some more and asked Peter if he could come up with a good reason why people would keep a recipe secret. He said "if it was an old family secret and the person who gave it to YOU actually asked you to keep it secret". Then I thought about proprietary reasons - the Colonel's secret herbs and spices sort of thing.

But really, aside from that, what would be a person's motivation for keeping something like a recipe secret? I can only think that it is self-aggrandizing. I puzzled over how I would feel after I refused to give someone a recipe. I would feel churlish and selfish. People who never give others recipes must feel something positive - as Dr. Phil would say, "they are getting something out of it." They may feel a sense of superiority perhaps - they have or know something you don't. Of course, I may never know for sure. Imagine if I asked someone (especially now) for a recipe and they said they don't give recipes and then I asked them why. I once asked my ex-brother-in-law for a recipe and he refused, saying it was a secret. I never did ask him why. Given what I know about him (especially since he is an ex now), my theory holds water.

Cherry Tomatoes and Candlelight

2006-07-16T21:43:00.000-04:00

I don't think my cherry tomatoes can get any bigger without getting red now.

There aren't that many of them but they all look vigorous and plump. I liked the way this same photo looked when I used the flash - all dark on the background.

The two photos were taken only minutes apart. I made an enlargement and noticed all the spiky bits on the stems of the tomato and even the tomatoes themselves looked like they had fur.

Again, this one was taken with a flash.

Some time ago, my sister gave me a ceramic pot in which one was supposed to put candles. She knows I have a real fondness for deploying candles all summer when it gets dark enough outside. I had never thought of putting this pot right in the garden itself until last night and then it worked wonderfully. Here it is in the day time.

Then Peter helped me set up a tripod and we took a photo of the pot with the candle glowing in it, at about 9:30pm.

The static nature of the photo doesn't give any of the sense of the movement of the candle light and the changing scene as you move yourself back and forth, past the cutouts in the bowl. Norah, it's lovely!

Red Buttons

2006-07-14T13:39:00.000-04:00

Here's a nice and brief tribute to the late Red Buttons.

More on the Garden

2006-07-12T14:30:00.000-04:00

It continues to fill in nicely. I only have to weed it about once a week. When it doesn't rain much, I water the tomatoes (not in these pix) for about 20 minutes with the sprinkler. In the first photo, my perennial. regular chives have come back finally but they are still sparse compared with the other pot of garlic chives. The marigolds really seem to enjoy their company. The impatiens in between the herbs are thriving and so are the taller cosmos along the fence.

I find it interesting that the violas from maybe two years ago seeded themselves and have made a come back with this hardy little bunch that popped up among the annuals. In fact, I have two volunteer violas growing in the lawn as well! Lawn mowing day is Thursday and they were flowering yesterday. They'll get cutback tomorrow but I bet they'll be flowering again in a few days. It's like the yellow snapdragons that I planted as annuals maybe three or even four years ago. The following Spring, they popped up here and there among the gravel ground cover and have been coming back every year since.

Detergent and Disappointment

2006-07-06T14:15:00.000-04:00

Imagine my disappointment, nay -- my shock and disappointment, when I went to refill my dishwashing detergent container and discovered there had been a mistake at the factory (apparently) and now I must wash my dishes with floral-scented soap instead of lemon! I have this nice, small, Julie-hand-sized container for dishwashing soap that I have used since (I think) before I was married. I refill it with the larger, more economical soap container. And I have been using the No Name "brand" for years. But it must be lemon scented. Since you cannot get unscented dish soap, I have opted to go with the lemon. I am used to the lemon and I prefer the lemon.

I unscrewed the cap on the most recently acquired refill container and out came lemon coloured soap but it smelled floral! I cannot begin to describe my dismay. Of course, I would not have kept the receipt, without which one cannot return such things. I suppose I could womanfully stride over to the manager of my local Loblaws and demand satisfaction and they might agree to a trade, based on the fear of me being mentally unhinged more than anything. But I decided it will be a good test of acceptance, of Zen nature. And the new scent has not caused me to sneeze or react as new scents often do so at least I am spared that. But from now on, when I buy the labeled lemon scented detergent, I am going to sniff check it first.

Mammograms and Such

2006-07-05T16:47:00.000-04:00

I went for my second annual mammogram this afternoon. The first one wasn't that bad so I was fairly nonchalant about this appointment. I checked the maps before going and decided to bike across Meadowlands and get on the bike path at Hog's Back and follow Riverside that way. The bike path does go quite a bit out of the way and I felt I was running late so I stepped on it and got there at an average of 20.5 kph over 12 km. Sweating freely, I arrived at the check-in with 5 minutes to spare before my appointment. And then I wasn't called for another 10 minutes after that.

I got a technician with some attitude and when I confessed to her that I was "trying to write my first novel" she asked, was I trying or was I writing? Hahaha. So I said that indeed, Yoda himself had said "do or do not, there is no try" and therefore I was actually writing. She also squished my breasts more than the first technician had done last year and I had to say "ouch" twice to get her to stop twisting that little dial. Other than that, it was an uneventful event, which is what you want in an appointment like that.

Garden still growing

2006-06-25T17:39:00.000-04:00

My garden is growing along nicely.

Here is one cherry tomato plant out of a line of four. I have the sprinkler on because tomatoes need water in order to produce fruit of any account.

These are the garlic chives that came back as a perennial. They are surrounded by robust marigolds who apparently love their location.

I planted cosmos along the fence, hoping they would grow taller than anything in the foreground. They turned out to be all shades of purple to pink and included these nice white ones. In the foreground of the photo is my dill plant.

I have been clipping the chives most days and using them in salads. But I haven't picked any of the other herbs yet. The basil could be picked and the mint but I think the others are still a little small.

Sunset

2006-06-24T20:22:00.000-04:00

Here is the view of the Peace Tower at 20:18 or 8:18pm EDT. According the Environment Canada, the sun sets at 20:55 today. One of the longest days of the year.

Lileks

2006-06-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

I laughed out loud and startled the dog when I read this:
"We always have our catastrophists and hysterics; there will always be people who sit in cafes and bitterly complain about the impending revocations of personal freedoms – and then dutifully go outside to smoke a cigarette in the cold, because that’s the law now. (It would be an act of civil disobedience to light up in the café, but it wouldn’t be cool.) "

Welcome the Solstice

2006-06-21T13:43:00.000-04:00

I see the crew is already building the stage for Canada Day (July 1). The Changing of the Guard will start this weekend (June 24).

Leave Mother Nature Alone

2006-06-19T10:29:00.000-04:00

In the last little while (some months if memory serves) there have been at least three opinion columns in the Citizen about population growth. Not what you'd expect as a product of the 70s, where Zero Population Growth was big and fear-mongering rampant about the burden of over-populating the Earth. Back then, everybody thought we'd trigger a massive famine, war or other disaster if the population kept growing.

These columns are lamenting the fact that Canada's population is not only not growing but babies are being born at less than a replacement level. In other words, we Canadians will have fewer people living here in some years from now, than we do now. The reason the columns say they are upset about this is economic - a Health Canada paper says that there will be "labour market challenges" (old people are presumed not to work) which "could" lead to a decline in the GDP and an "insufficient tax base".

A logical rebuttal (not found in the columns) is that old people do indeed work and they definitely pay taxes. Even if they don't work, they still have income and therefore pay tax on it. No, there seems to be an assumption that growth is good and no growth is bad. The columnists don't consider that things have a way of working themselves out, that Mother Nature Knows Best, that all humans are just tiny cogs in a wheel.

However, the thing that really bothers me is that the growing populations of places like India and China and Africa are not mentioned at all. These columnists do not even hint that populations here might be able to be replaced by people from elsewhere on the planet. In fact, one columnist states:
"Every day, everybody gets older. Every day, people die. Without babies being born, whole nations would vanish in less time than it takes an oak to mature."
Their sole concern is that "Canadians" are not being replaced by more "Canadians" (or in fact, Swedes or Norwegians or even Americans in other places they have looked at with the same "problem"). Immigration issues are only mentioned in passing and immigration solutions are not hinted at. This is one reason why I do not care for social conservatism. It strikes me as being awfully white in its focus and I know where views like that have lead in the past. It's also an "us against them" mentality that is understandable in its origins - deep-seated primitive man fears of the unknown - but that is also overdue for discarding on the evolutionary ash heap.

And now we wait

2006-06-17T10:21:00.000-04:00

I finally managed to get two more herbs for the garden. Unfortunately, they didn't have any rosemary so I got parsley and chervil instead. Last year, I only used the rosemary on chicken anyway. But I fear the chervil may be a little too much like cilantro for my taste. I really dislike how cilantro tastes like soap. Since I had brought the Yak with the bike, I also got a hanging plant to decorate the shepherd's crook at the end of the garden. In the evening, I take the plant down and hang a lantern with a candle in it on the hook.

The bamboo stakes are propping up the parsley and chervil until they get stronger and can stand on their own. I heard it was going to rain last night so I thought they could use a little help from being flattened to the ground.

Here it is from the other end. It looks all bare in the left foreground and that is because the purple basil I bought has not grown at all. It seems to be surviving but it hasn't got bigger.

Here is my ugly garden toad peeking from behind the thyme. That was supposed to be lemon thyme and when I got it, all the leaves were edged in yellow. Everything that has grown since however, is all green! What kind of plants are they selling anyway?

The garden is growing

2006-06-13T11:31:00.000-04:00

The photo's at an angle because I'm holding the camera at my ankle and shooting blindly. We've had rain and cool weather recently and the weeds have flourished. The weeds are mostly something that looks like small clover and it produces a tiny yellow flower that looks like a violet or pansy. I still have not got my rosemary and parsley! Soon, Ralph, SOON!

Mattress Finale

2006-06-07T12:16:00.000-04:00

I wanted to sleep on the new mattress once before I reported the finale of the story. However, it wasn't a totally fair test because Peter was away so I didn't have the other body in the bed AND I expected him home around 5am so I kept waking at every little noise, thinking it was him. Anyway, I can report that the bed is totally comfortable. But man, is it HIGH!

Here it is, newly installed and with pillows still in plastic. The guys who delivered it were professional and fast. They took all the plastic wrap with them and put booties on their feet when they came into the house. They didn't get too familiar with me either which I appreciated. And they took the old double sized bed away. I forgot to time it but I'd say it took less than 15 minutes, and it was a bit of a struggle to get the mattress up the stairs. They even asked if I had a bed skirt I wanted to put on before they put the mattress down.

Here is the bed partly made up. I haven't tucked in the top sheet. The main thing is that it is so high. But I have talked with other people now who have high beds and they all say they love them. My sister said getting in is sort of like a slow motion standing high jump and you do kind of slide your bum on as you slither into a lying position. Peter got home at 6:30am and is sleeping so I have yet to hear his verdict. My hip still hurts but it feels more like it is aching from the inside and therefore will need time to heal, rather than being tortured from the outside.

Mattress saga - intermission

2006-06-05T12:09:00.001-04:00

Peter has left on his business trip so I am alone with the beast. I am seriously thinking of taking him to school with me tonight, especially because Peter won't be here. We'll see.

Meanwhile, we stacked the double mattress and boxspring against the wall in the guest room and put the frame in the garage (they'll recycle the mattress but they don't take frames). Then I vacuumed under the bed. I have been washing the sheets that the guest used on the weekend, the mattress cover, dust ruffle and bedspread all in preparation for giving them away to someone who has a double sized bed. Then we up-ended the queen in our room and moved the frame into the guest room. Way more dust in our room than the guest room. I moved the bedside dressers and vacuumed under and around them - the dust was assuming a life of its own back there.

Then I washed the purple dust ruffle and put it back on the queen in the guest room. I plan to use the white ruffle on our new bed and see if it works. It used to be a queen sized ruffle but I took a pleat up the middle and put it on the double years ago. Now I will pick out the pleat and see if it fits on the new bed. I made it and it likely has a standard 14" drop but it always seemed a bit long on the double. Our new bed has a slightly higher boxspring so I'll have to wait and see. Anyway, everything is freshly washed now. In fact, it is so nice to have everything washed that I am going to do the curtains too!

Once Upon a Mattress

2006-06-03T20:33:00.000-04:00

Today we went shopping and bought ourselves a mattress at Sleep Country Canada because really, why buy a mattress anywhere else? Previously, we had always bought from Sears because they deliver and it's safe. But this time, my sister had bought from SCC and recommended it, especially because they take away your old mattress, refurbish it and give it to charity (or something like that).

Our current mattress dates from about 1989 and whatever padding it had on the surface is gone. It still doesn't sag but I know it is not providing us with a good night's sleep. Additionally, the hard surface has within the past year aggravated my left shoulder joint in some way so that it tends to be sore a lot. And just in the last couple of months, my left hip joint has become aggravated in the same way. Only because it is my hip, it bears weight and thus re-injures itself regularly. We have been talking about getting a new mattress and finally decided this would be the weekend. Unfortunately, in the last couple of days, the hip joint has become inflamed and now I can hardly put any weight on the stupid thing. Climbing stairs is a painful chore.

Anyway, this morning we biked over to SCC in the rain and tested all the Beautyrest independent coil mattresses. The first three we tried we all far better than our current mattress and we had settled on the middle cushy model when the salesman suggested we also try to top of the line, Imperial silk model and we were sunk. Nothing else felt as good as that one. So we ended up spending twice the money we thought we were going to but we figure - we spend a third of our life on a mattress so it might as well be top of the line. Plus, they were having a sale on them.

It's being delivered on Tuesday. They will take away the double sized mattress and boxspring we have in the guest room and we will put the old queen sized bed in there. If that sounds cruel to guests, it's not. I plan to put a cushy foam topper on it and it is still supportive. And if you don't sleep on it every night for a year, I am sure it is just fine. Plus, guests won't be tempted to stay too long. Just kidding! I just can't keep sleeping on it every night. The new bed is so thick I had to buy new sheets for it. They give you a deal on the sheets - they are 320 thread count Egyptian cotton and you get the second set for only $50. All the sheets I have had in the past were barely percale so I know these are going to be the nicest ones I've ever slept on.

I'm also going to have to make a new coverlet and dust ruffle to fit this different sized set but that (while work) will be fun too. We figure this new bed should last us another 15 years and amortized over that time, only costs us $160/year. Now I have to rearrange the bedrooms, vacuum where the bed was and is going to be and get ready for the delivery on Tuesday. I can't wait!

Such as it is, the garden is photographed

2006-05-29T15:00:00.001-04:00

These are for you Zoom!

We left the tomato cages up over the winter. I planted my four cherry tomato plants in the vast space and propped up their spindly limbs with some bamboo and other stakes I had. There's a couple of marigolds in the foreground (some at the back too) to keep them company while they get bigger. A scattering of weeds, mostly clover was encouraged by the rain we had last night.

Here we have the obvious need to go back to the store and get some more plants. On the lower right corner, one of my cosmos has flowered unexpectedly - I thought they would have to be much bigger before that happened. And it's purple! I thought they were going to be yellow. In the pots are chives and I planted the other marigolds there for company too.

Rockwell looks reproachfully out the door. It is quite humid and I have kept the door shut all day. I'm going to take him to get the mail soon and then he will know why he has been inside.

Some plants are planted

2006-05-26T11:07:00.000-04:00

I planted my basil, oregano, lemon thyme, dill and mint this morning. I was trying to get them in the ground before it rained and I was successful. The selection was not extensive and so I am missing rosemary, parsley and tarragon plus I think I have room for another thyme and maybe another basil. I got what said it was cosmos for the tall plants by the fence and some marigolds for around the edges and in the chive pots. The cherry tomatoes were also not too inspiring but I got 3 sweet millions and one yellow cherry, which I have never had before. They are watered in now and I put stakes by them that look like total overkill but by the end of the summer, you won't even be able to see the stakes.

I got a few snapdragons and petunias for the two front pots and must remember to water them regularly if they are to prosper. Two of my hostas from years past actually managed to come up this Spring and so I think I will get two more and fill out the front bits of dirt that get no sun and no rain. I suppose they should be paved over, those bits of dirt but I keep trying to grow something there. I was going to take photos but it looks pretty bare so I think I will wait until I at least get the other herbs.

All the while I was out, the mosquitoes were trying to bite me and a couple succeeded. Is there any more irritating noise than a mosquito humming in your ear? However, this is bliss compared to where I used to live in the boonies where the mosquitoes threatened to carry off my dog, they were so thick.

Planning the plantings

2006-05-25T17:26:00.000-04:00

I am heading out this afternoon to get some plants for the tiny garden I have, now that the threat of frost is past (I hope). Last year, I got some plants early and the basil got frost bite. I have a list of herbs to at least look for which includes parsley, rosemary, thyme, basil, mint, dill and tarragon. The chives keep coming back as perennials which is nice. I need four cherry tomato plants and something tall for by the fence, behind the herbs. And finally a few decorative items for containers and maybe scattered among the herbs.

Saturday musings

2006-05-20T10:36:00.000-04:00

I was just looking at my various blog stats and noticed this poor neglected thing. While my sewing blog is now at over 6,200 total hits since I started tracking in January and the puppy blog has 5,000 hits, this one only has 540. Alas, I find I have no opinion on many things. Is that true? Not really but I think I am busy writing the other two blogs and run out of writing for this one. I glanced at the other files I have and saw the entries I kept while I was living in England and thought I could do a Pepys and re-run them. Then I thought better of that. Then I thought, why don't I write similar entries for my life now? And then I realized I am pretty much doing that with the puppy blog. Anyway.

Today is a Saturday and so the rhythm of the weekdays is different. We get up later and Peter is around and everything is louder than when it's just me and the dog. He makes me coffee and we send each other emails across the vast space between the living room and the dining room. Tomorrow is our 24th anniversary - shazam! We've got reservations at a lovely little Thai restaurant to which we can walk and no offense but the dog is not invited.

Cool clouds

2006-05-16T15:18:00.000-04:00

I just thought these clouds behind the Peace Tower were nice. The sun has come out for a while today but I expect more rain before the week is done.

The Patio Extension Project

2006-05-04T18:18:00.000-04:00

I'm glad I started early at the Home Depot. Since I rented a car to take Rockwell for the Big Snip, I am also using it to transport patio stones so I can make a little place for the BBQ. I figured I'd need 32 stones 1 by 1 foot plus several bags of crushed stone and some stone dust. Maybe some sand. But I went cheap on the rental and got a Toyota Yaris. It appears to have four cylinders but I only count three speeds as it revs down the highway. Third speed kicks in at about 40, so by 80kph it sounds like a piston is going to come through the hood.

With this tiny car, I am only taking 12 stones at a time plus a bag of gravel. I will need to make at least 3 trips. Now I have to unearth the wheelbarrow and unload the car and take things around back. Before I can go back to the HD. Good thing I wanted to do this project! If someone was making me, I think I'd be perturbed.

Later: The bag of crushed stone was 30 kilos and I could barely get it out of the car. I have now trundled 24 one foot square stones around to the back plus that bag of stone. I was going to get 32 big stones but now that I have done this much, I am thinking that 28 will be just fine. I didn't get a second bag of crushed stone on my second trip because there was no one around to help me load it onto my cart and into the car.

Later: Okay, I got two more bags of stone. At 30 kilos each, they are staying in the car until Peter gets home. And I got only four more one by one foot stones. I'm currently digging the sod away and making a shallow hole and wondering how big it really needs to be. Since we are going to need some stone dust to top it off just before the stones are laid and that means another trip to the Home Depot, I'll decide then how large it will finally be.

That's dog pee damage on the lawn - of course, not in the area I am digging up. Having dug up some of the spots, I can see that the roots are gone on those sections of the grass where he concentrated pee all winter. Tomato cages are on the right, the coiled wire of the weather station is on the fence, the 24 stones and a bag of gravel at the bottom of the photo.

The hole has been dug (i.e., I have dug the hole) and now I have to figure out how much dirt should stay and then add the gravel and such before placing the stones on top. The stones will be sitting up fairly high on the grass side which actually matches the existing patio stones which were laid by “professionals”.

Peter helped me with the rest of the work. Here we have the mostly finished patio pad for the BBQ. I spread some of the dirt over the pee-ruined area on the lawn and after the rain has stopped, I will put some grass seed on it and hope for the best. Tonight, Peter will be making the inaugural burgers.

Left to be done: Monitor the lawn-sod issues, spread more sand in the cracks as required, lift stones if necessary to balance them should they become loose.

Food

2006-04-18T11:58:00.000-04:00

My favourite foods, in the order in which I thought of them:

Any kind of cheese
Locally grown, sun ripened tomatoes
Bread (all kinds)
Salmon, marinated in maple syrup and BBQd
Red wine
Things pickled in vinegar
Pizza
A really nice salad on a hot day
Chili on a cold day
A well-made club sandwich
French toast with real maple syrup
Peanut butter
My own apple pie

Yes, I am on a diet, why do you ask?

weather

2006-04-03T11:25:00.000-04:00

The photo taken from the Hill Cam at 11:20am today shows clouds that look like special effects from Ghostbusters. Interestingly, the House is sitting for the first time today, since the election in January.

Selling me something

2006-04-03T09:39:00.000-04:00

Whenever I hear a business telling me that what they do is for MY benefit, it makes me see red. Any and every business does what they do for one main reason - to make money. Of course there can be spin-off benefits for me - in fact, why would I purchase what they are selling if I didn’t benefit from it? But even if you are in the service business, don’t tell me your prime objective is to make ME happy. It isn’t.

Even people who make a living doing something they love, might not do it if they didn’t make money. What about people who volunteer? They may even be trying to sell me something (think religion) but they are getting something out of whatever they are doing. The best situation is when we both benefit from the transaction and in ways that are more than just financial. If I make something and sell it to you, I get the pleasure of having made it as well as the money and you get the pleasure of having it and well as the use of it.

So car sales companies and funeral homes and mattress makers - don’t tell me that you are selling me this thing out of the goodness of your heart. If that were true, you’d give it away. Don’t tell me this thing you are trying to sell me is good for me. I know it is, otherwise I wouldn’t buy it. The only thing you should do is tell me why your object is better than someone else’s.

2006-03-15T16:13:00.000-05:00

Here’s an interesting on line Art magazine.

This month, it features Rosemary, a friend of mine who came up with the moniker "demystification guru".

Go read!

motivation

2006-03-08T08:57:00.000-05:00

I was reading Dooce’s comment that people send her hatemail, telling her they disagree with something she said or did. I just don’t get it. What is their motivation? They can’t seriously think she will change because they send her an email. So if the situation can’t be changed, why criticise it? Now before my husband writes me, let it be known that I do criticise him on occasion. But there, I hope that my constructive comments (ahem) will indeed effect some change. We have a connexion, we are connected, we have agreed to work together to make our lives better. So if I want him to do something differently to make my life better, I tell him. But a total stranger? Whose life does not impact on yours?

My mother used to say that people would do things to get a rise out of other people and therefore the best thing to do was to not react at all. So maybe those hate emailers are trying to get a reaction from Dooce. But that doesn’t make sense either because she doesn’t react where they can see it. Do they get some kind of warped satisfaction knowing that their emails might possibly elicit a reaction even though they will never know? Maybe it’s like practical jokers who do things for which they will never see the results.

On the other hand, while I was pondering why practical jokers do these things, I thought about people who do random acts of kindness. Or what about when I pick up garbage or try to return a lost item, even though I know no one will ever know? People who do good things sometimes do them even though there will be no reaction. So it must be that people do things from which they derive satisfaction all on their own and in some people, the act involves being mean and in others, the act is good. Interesting.