I'm visiting Australia. Not physically, more's the pity.
With a few minutes between appointments, I wandered into a small charity shop. Perusing the bookshelves, I spied a copy of In a Sunburned Country. I have been meaning to read this book for years, but somehow kept forgetting. Now was my chance. A perfect antidote to The Girl With a Dragon Tattoo.
After my appointment I settled into one of those comfy chairs by the window with a coffee and my new book. What happened next was not elegant. But if you have ever read Bill Bryson, you will understand.
I soon found myself making indelicate snorting noises. I was almost choking with the effort to keep from laughing out loud. Soon, I knew my face was red. And wet from the tears streaming down my cheeks. I stared out the window and composed myself and started again. My body was involuntarily shaking. Those leather chairs proved to be of little use in supporting me as I crumpled helplessly. I surreptitiously reached into my bag for a bottle of water as a distraction. But it was useless. I should have known better.
A couple minutes later, a man passed by me on his way out. "Must be a rip snorter", he said, with a wink.
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
a wonder of an adventure
A few years ago, during the excitement of the highly anticipated advent of the new Lord of the Rings movie, I thought I should re-read the beloved classic. I had read them as a teenager and remembered them fondly. But then, I thought about the stories and realized I didn't remember enough. I still had The Hobbit on my bookshelves, but could not find the rest, so I bought a new set of the Rings Trilogy. And sat down, prepared to immerse myself in Middle Earth.
So now, with the advent of the much anticipated new Tim Burton's movie Alice in Wonderland, I thought maybe I should re-read the beloved classic. Because, I think I was about twelve when I last read it and I really don't know the story. Oh, I know enough to get the gist of it, but I wanted to be able to compare the book and movie. Then I heard that the movie has taken many liberties with the story and it is not at all the same as the book.
and if you've read this far and found this post through Twitter, would you mind letting me know how you came here? (just curious)
I found, to my dismay, that I was not enjoying any part of the first book and so abandonned the project. I still may be the only person in the northern hemisphere who has not seen any of the movies.
So now, with the advent of the much anticipated new Tim Burton's movie Alice in Wonderland, I thought maybe I should re-read the beloved classic. Because, I think I was about twelve when I last read it and I really don't know the story. Oh, I know enough to get the gist of it, but I wanted to be able to compare the book and movie. Then I heard that the movie has taken many liberties with the story and it is not at all the same as the book.I don't care. I am thoroughly enjoying the tale. I have gotten lost in the pages.
Is this not the most beautiful edition of Alice's Adventures In Wonderland you have ever seen? Okay, maybe my photos don't show it justice. You may have to find your own copy to really appreciate the beauty. This was being unpacked as I wandered about the shop, and I had to have it.
It is lusciously illustrated by Australian Robert Ingpen.
The watercolours flow from one page to the next, encompassing the text (so no glaring white pages) and nearly every page has an illustration.
More tea, anyone?
and if you've read this far and found this post through Twitter, would you mind letting me know how you came here? (just curious)
Thursday, December 10, 2009
tweets in the 19th century?
Every morning around 6 am I get a special email. Courtesy of The Telegraph: an online novel by Alexander McCall Smith. It is reminiscent of the old serial novels. One chapter a day. Just enough to keep you engaged and hanging on for the next installment. No cheating and reading further ahead. No reading on and on until you fall asleep and disrupting the flow of the story by an inopportune stop. The chapter ends and you wait...
I consider it my bedtime story. The most fun part is that you can even have the chapters read to you by Andrew Sachs - he who was Manuel in Fawlty Towers.
And if you haven't experienced any of Alexander McCall Smiths' books, I am here to tell you he is a delightful read.
The first serial, The Corduroy Mansions began a year ago and ran for 100 chapters. This story, The Dog Who Came In From The Cold, is book two and has been running since September. You can find the story here.
Novel serialisations are an old art form, probably best and most famously done by Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens. And last week, I heard that there is an online publication of Wilkie Collins' A Woman In White. Celebrating its 150th anniversary, it is being reproduced in its original form every week. The story first appeared as a serial in a Charles Dickens' periodical and is available to read in its "original tightly compact form of 19th century typography" or, much easier on the eyes, as a pdf that can be delivered right to your inbox every Monday. It will take until August 22, 2010 to reach the end of the gripping tale.
We are already up to Chapter Three, but you can catch up quickly by going here
and you can subscribe by emailing Paul Lewis at paul@paullewis.co.uk
AND there is MORE!
You can even follow tweets of Wilkie's life as his novel was being published during 1859-1860!
How much fun is that? Well, what are you waiting for? You have to get reading.
I consider it my bedtime story. The most fun part is that you can even have the chapters read to you by Andrew Sachs - he who was Manuel in Fawlty Towers.
And if you haven't experienced any of Alexander McCall Smiths' books, I am here to tell you he is a delightful read.
The first serial, The Corduroy Mansions began a year ago and ran for 100 chapters. This story, The Dog Who Came In From The Cold, is book two and has been running since September. You can find the story here.
Novel serialisations are an old art form, probably best and most famously done by Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens. And last week, I heard that there is an online publication of Wilkie Collins' A Woman In White. Celebrating its 150th anniversary, it is being reproduced in its original form every week. The story first appeared as a serial in a Charles Dickens' periodical and is available to read in its "original tightly compact form of 19th century typography" or, much easier on the eyes, as a pdf that can be delivered right to your inbox every Monday. It will take until August 22, 2010 to reach the end of the gripping tale.We are already up to Chapter Three, but you can catch up quickly by going here
and you can subscribe by emailing Paul Lewis at paul@paullewis.co.uk
AND there is MORE!
You can even follow tweets of Wilkie's life as his novel was being published during 1859-1860!
How much fun is that? Well, what are you waiting for? You have to get reading.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
where I disappear into a book
Our high school librarian was a charm. We were in admiration of her skills. Not only was she young and very personable, she knew everybody by name. She also somehow knew which class you were skipping if you turned up at an 'odd' hour, or lingered too long. This was not a small school, we were over 2,000 students. But if you asked her about a book for a class, she could probably remember who had it and when it was due back. She was our Katharine Hepburn of Desk Set.
I am reminded of her, and many independent booksellers, when I ask for a book in Chapters or Indigo. Where the staff will immediately walk to a computer terminal to look up the title/author and if you don't remember it, well, it could be a fruitless search with you being ultimately led in the general direction of where you might find your request. My favourite booksellers are the ones who can decipher a "I read a review in the Globe about something about (insert semi-remembered description)" or "I heard a book review on CBC on Sunday..." and they know what you are talking about. These people love books. They breathe books.
I used to buy a lot of books. The cost has made buying sprees a bit more prohibitive than in the past. And I've never bought anything from Amazon. I'm more of a browser. Put me in a room with shelves of books, and I can't help myself. I twist my head to read the spines, I pull interesting book titles down, I fondle covers, I flip pages. I sniff books. There is something about the musty smell of old books that is comforting. And also the still strong ink and paper smells of newly printed pages. To be the first to open a book and begin reading... and to open an old book, especially one of prose or poetry, and have it fall open at a favourite passage of the previous owner, is a silent thrill of discovery. I have discovered great new reads that would never have occurred to me just by being attracted to a title, the first paragraph, a description on the cover flap. And I've even judged a book by its cover. I have not bought books that didn't feel right. I used to have small collections of books that had different covers, because the idea intrigued me of other artists renderings of the tale. If I start a series, I have to buy the rest in the series until it is complete, or it will irritate me, even if I didn't particularly like the third book, or whatever. A teeny, tiny bit of OCD.
A friend and I share books regularly, she more than me, because, I couldn't tell you the last time I read a book in its entirety. I have piles of them gathering dust by my bed. The cat uses them as a stepping stool to get herself up on the mattress (she's a bit lazy, why jump when you can risk falling by climbing). Still, I went to the library last week and came home with several books to rekindle my reading habits.
Which is why I haven't been around as much, or posting as much.
And from the book store, a new release, Sandra Gulland and her tale of 'Louise de la Valliere, the young equestrienne who won the heart of France's charismatic Sun King'.
I have coffee waiting at my favourite coffee house and my book to read so, later......
in honour of National Library Week.
I am reminded of her, and many independent booksellers, when I ask for a book in Chapters or Indigo. Where the staff will immediately walk to a computer terminal to look up the title/author and if you don't remember it, well, it could be a fruitless search with you being ultimately led in the general direction of where you might find your request. My favourite booksellers are the ones who can decipher a "I read a review in the Globe about something about (insert semi-remembered description)" or "I heard a book review on CBC on Sunday..." and they know what you are talking about. These people love books. They breathe books.
I used to buy a lot of books. The cost has made buying sprees a bit more prohibitive than in the past. And I've never bought anything from Amazon. I'm more of a browser. Put me in a room with shelves of books, and I can't help myself. I twist my head to read the spines, I pull interesting book titles down, I fondle covers, I flip pages. I sniff books. There is something about the musty smell of old books that is comforting. And also the still strong ink and paper smells of newly printed pages. To be the first to open a book and begin reading... and to open an old book, especially one of prose or poetry, and have it fall open at a favourite passage of the previous owner, is a silent thrill of discovery. I have discovered great new reads that would never have occurred to me just by being attracted to a title, the first paragraph, a description on the cover flap. And I've even judged a book by its cover. I have not bought books that didn't feel right. I used to have small collections of books that had different covers, because the idea intrigued me of other artists renderings of the tale. If I start a series, I have to buy the rest in the series until it is complete, or it will irritate me, even if I didn't particularly like the third book, or whatever. A teeny, tiny bit of OCD.
A friend and I share books regularly, she more than me, because, I couldn't tell you the last time I read a book in its entirety. I have piles of them gathering dust by my bed. The cat uses them as a stepping stool to get herself up on the mattress (she's a bit lazy, why jump when you can risk falling by climbing). Still, I went to the library last week and came home with several books to rekindle my reading habits. Which is why I haven't been around as much, or posting as much.
And from the book store, a new release, Sandra Gulland and her tale of 'Louise de la Valliere, the young equestrienne who won the heart of France's charismatic Sun King'.
I have coffee waiting at my favourite coffee house and my book to read so, later......
in honour of National Library Week.
Friday, December 19, 2008
a storm and a mouse
I dropped the keys on the counter.
"It'll be a bit before I can get to your car" said the mechanic, "I have to finish up this one first".
Well, no problem. The Pier One across the parking lot and the Chapters across the street were the main reasons I came to this location for the oil change and transmission flush.
"But it should be done by 3pm, for sure"
"Oh dear" says I, as I leave the cold garage and sprint across the street. That leaves only 2 hours. I can easily spend that much time and more in a bookstore.
I first checked out the gifts and shook my head at the exorbitant prices. Then I checked the status of the Moleskins, and was dismayed to see there were no day timers left. My plan may not work out after all, but there is still Indigo, and another Chapters in Oakville.
Next was a wander down the centre aisle, where I picked up books, flipped through pages, tried to think of something suitable for the last 2 people on my list. When I got to the end wall, before turning back to wander the side aisles, I noticed a large selection of the same book in several covers. Interesting, I thought. I picked up a copy. Something seemed vaguely familiar.
It took me a moment to recognize the mouse.
What little of the trailers I had seen didn't look as thrilling as Ratatouille or Shrek, but I love animation, so I started to read to see what this was about. People were pushing past me and reaching over me to get to the shelves. I found a less busy corner to stand and read. Then I found a table. With a mocha something or other, I continued to read, keeping my eye on the time and the long line snaking through giftwares to the checkout. When my 2 hours was up, I left my table and joined the queue, having time to read 3 more chapters (they are very short).
A truly delightful tale.
And with a winter storm on its way, I doubt I'll be heading to any movie theatres for the opening night. Good. I have enough time to finish the book. And I think I know a 30 year old who will also enjoy the tale of mouse who loves a princess.
"It'll be a bit before I can get to your car" said the mechanic, "I have to finish up this one first".
Well, no problem. The Pier One across the parking lot and the Chapters across the street were the main reasons I came to this location for the oil change and transmission flush.
"But it should be done by 3pm, for sure"
"Oh dear" says I, as I leave the cold garage and sprint across the street. That leaves only 2 hours. I can easily spend that much time and more in a bookstore.
I first checked out the gifts and shook my head at the exorbitant prices. Then I checked the status of the Moleskins, and was dismayed to see there were no day timers left. My plan may not work out after all, but there is still Indigo, and another Chapters in Oakville.
Next was a wander down the centre aisle, where I picked up books, flipped through pages, tried to think of something suitable for the last 2 people on my list. When I got to the end wall, before turning back to wander the side aisles, I noticed a large selection of the same book in several covers. Interesting, I thought. I picked up a copy. Something seemed vaguely familiar.
It took me a moment to recognize the mouse.
What little of the trailers I had seen didn't look as thrilling as Ratatouille or Shrek, but I love animation, so I started to read to see what this was about. People were pushing past me and reaching over me to get to the shelves. I found a less busy corner to stand and read. Then I found a table. With a mocha something or other, I continued to read, keeping my eye on the time and the long line snaking through giftwares to the checkout. When my 2 hours was up, I left my table and joined the queue, having time to read 3 more chapters (they are very short).A truly delightful tale.
And with a winter storm on its way, I doubt I'll be heading to any movie theatres for the opening night. Good. I have enough time to finish the book. And I think I know a 30 year old who will also enjoy the tale of mouse who loves a princess.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
fun stuff
I have decided that my wee black cat on my sidebar needs a name. She is now Maisie.
Maisie, as you can see, is also trying to play with my new widget, the black box. Ha, but it is just out of her reach. You have control of the cursor so go ahead and play if you dare. Someone described it as like being on a magic carpet ride. I'd like to give them credit, but I have no idea where I saw that while I was being whisked off to various blogs through the magic of randomness. The coolest and most addictive widget to hit the internet was created by the Stray of Chasing Sheep, for Caroline of In Search of Adam – as a marketing tool for Caroline’s new book Black Boxes. So, learn about Black Boxes and how to get your own by clicking on about black boxes. That's easy. Then when you are ready to play, move your cursor thingy over to 'decide' and click, then make your choice and see where you end up. You may discover a new bloggy friend.
So, an extra special WELCOME if you came here via the black box. Please say hello, cheers, or anything nice you can think of, in the comments. I'm friendly and will definitely return the cheer.
For the rest of us who do not live in the US, but will still be affected by the upcoming election, and who already have had many, many discussions over who we think should win, well now we have a chance to make absolutely no difference at all with a vote. Go to If The World Could Vote where you will be able to cast a ballot for either Obama or McCain. The site uses your IP address to determine which country you are in and only one ballot can be used per computer. The results are mapped out with the results shown on a world map and a bar graph for each candidate in each country.
Maisie, as you can see, is also trying to play with my new widget, the black box. Ha, but it is just out of her reach. You have control of the cursor so go ahead and play if you dare. Someone described it as like being on a magic carpet ride. I'd like to give them credit, but I have no idea where I saw that while I was being whisked off to various blogs through the magic of randomness. The coolest and most addictive widget to hit the internet was created by the Stray of Chasing Sheep, for Caroline of In Search of Adam – as a marketing tool for Caroline’s new book Black Boxes. So, learn about Black Boxes and how to get your own by clicking on about black boxes. That's easy. Then when you are ready to play, move your cursor thingy over to 'decide' and click, then make your choice and see where you end up. You may discover a new bloggy friend.
So, an extra special WELCOME if you came here via the black box. Please say hello, cheers, or anything nice you can think of, in the comments. I'm friendly and will definitely return the cheer.
For the rest of us who do not live in the US, but will still be affected by the upcoming election, and who already have had many, many discussions over who we think should win, well now we have a chance to make absolutely no difference at all with a vote. Go to If The World Could Vote where you will be able to cast a ballot for either Obama or McCain. The site uses your IP address to determine which country you are in and only one ballot can be used per computer. The results are mapped out with the results shown on a world map and a bar graph for each candidate in each country.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Jean was happy
From Becoming Human by Jean Vanier:
No one individual, no one group is superior to others. We may be different in race, culture, religion, and capacities, but we are all the same, with vulnerable hearts, the need to love and be loved, the need to grow, to develop our capacities, and to find our place in the world. We all need to find our selves of value. We are all the same because throughout our lives we have, every one of us, been hurt in one way or another.
Jean Vanier believes that society's fear of people with disabilities is rooted deep in the human psyche. Every young couple, he has said, is frightened that their child will have a handicap.
Many of the people who live in L'Arche are severely disabled; many need help with the most basic human functions. The foundation of L'Arche is the idea of 'living with' and not just 'doing for' people with diminished mental capacities. The paid carers and volunteers live as a family with those who are disabled. The first L'Arche was a single home for just two mentally disabled men. There are now 130 L'Arche communities around the world for about 2,500 people with all sorts of disabilities - people who might otherwise have been left in institutions or on the streets begging.
No one individual, no one group is superior to others. We may be different in race, culture, religion, and capacities, but we are all the same, with vulnerable hearts, the need to love and be loved, the need to grow, to develop our capacities, and to find our place in the world. We all need to find our selves of value. We are all the same because throughout our lives we have, every one of us, been hurt in one way or another.
Jean Vanier believes that society's fear of people with disabilities is rooted deep in the human psyche. Every young couple, he has said, is frightened that their child will have a handicap.
Many of the people who live in L'Arche are severely disabled; many need help with the most basic human functions. The foundation of L'Arche is the idea of 'living with' and not just 'doing for' people with diminished mental capacities. The paid carers and volunteers live as a family with those who are disabled. The first L'Arche was a single home for just two mentally disabled men. There are now 130 L'Arche communities around the world for about 2,500 people with all sorts of disabilities - people who might otherwise have been left in institutions or on the streets begging.
"The particular thing about many people with disabilities is that they cry out for relationship," Mr. Vanier says. "They're not crying out for power or success. They say, 'Do you believe I'm a person, that I have value?' If a child comes in here, that child can transform us by looking up and saying, 'Do you love me?' The child brings down our defense mechanisms and our barriers, and touches something deep within us. In people with disabilities there is something similar. It touches us and opens us up to something new."
"Weakness becomes our strength. Because when I say I'm weak, I say I need you. Weakness can be beautiful because it can bring us together in community."
"The sign of being human is to be a friend to the weak person. There's something in the history of humanity that shows being human is to care for the weak, the fragile."
"Weakness becomes our strength. Because when I say I'm weak, I say I need you. Weakness can be beautiful because it can bring us together in community."
"The sign of being human is to be a friend to the weak person. There's something in the history of humanity that shows being human is to care for the weak, the fragile."
Mr. Vanier founded L'Arche more than 40 years ago in the small French town of Trosly, where he still lives and from where he still travels the world visiting communities and encouraging new projects, giving lectures and retreats.
And today Jean Vanier turns 80.
A story:
Mr. Vanier: Oh, yes, yes. Yes, I was sitting in my office and there was a man who was a bit glum like a lot of people, a bit glum. And but, anyway, there was a knock on the door. And before I could say "Come in" Jean Claude walked in and Jean Claude technically would be Down Syndrome. And Jean Claude shook my hand and laughed, and shook the hand of the other fellow and laughed and went out laughing. And the man that had been in my office looked at me and said, "Isn't it sad, children like that?" And I mean, he, what was sad was that he was totally blind. He didn't see that Jean Claude was happy.
And today Jean Vanier turns 80.
A story:
Mr. Vanier: Oh, yes, yes. Yes, I was sitting in my office and there was a man who was a bit glum like a lot of people, a bit glum. And but, anyway, there was a knock on the door. And before I could say "Come in" Jean Claude walked in and Jean Claude technically would be Down Syndrome. And Jean Claude shook my hand and laughed, and shook the hand of the other fellow and laughed and went out laughing. And the man that had been in my office looked at me and said, "Isn't it sad, children like that?" And I mean, he, what was sad was that he was totally blind. He didn't see that Jean Claude was happy.
Friday, September 5, 2008
don't, just don't
Whatever horrorscope sign you are, today is just not a good day.
To wit:
Aries: do not make important decisions today ... anything to do with wealth or possessions of others...
Taurus: this is definitely a poor day for important discussions ... don't volunteer for anything. don't agree to anything.
Gemini: be very careful at work today ... whatever you decide or agree to will have to be redone, rethought or replanned in the future.
Cancer: don't agree to anything important ...
Leo: everything is too loosey-goosey to make important decisions ...
Virgo: everything is up in the air today ... don't sign contracts or agree to anything important.
Libra: this is not a good day for finances, cash flow or expenditures ...
Scorpio: you might feel at loose ends today ... nothing is grounded ... everything is up in the air or delayed or confused.
Sagittarius: it's hard to know if you are coming or going today. it's a bit as if you are walking in quicksand...
Capricorn: take today off as a mental health day if you can ... take a grain of salt with anything anyone says.
Aquarius: discussions with authority figures...will be far too nebulous and iffy to count on today.
Pisces: avoid making travel plans...they will only have to be changed. similarly avoid important decisions.
if your birthday is today: it's time to enjoy yourself.
GOOD LUCK.
To wit:
Aries: do not make important decisions today ... anything to do with wealth or possessions of others...
Taurus: this is definitely a poor day for important discussions ... don't volunteer for anything. don't agree to anything.
Gemini: be very careful at work today ... whatever you decide or agree to will have to be redone, rethought or replanned in the future.
Cancer: don't agree to anything important ...
Leo: everything is too loosey-goosey to make important decisions ...
Virgo: everything is up in the air today ... don't sign contracts or agree to anything important.
Libra: this is not a good day for finances, cash flow or expenditures ...
Scorpio: you might feel at loose ends today ... nothing is grounded ... everything is up in the air or delayed or confused.
Sagittarius: it's hard to know if you are coming or going today. it's a bit as if you are walking in quicksand...
Capricorn: take today off as a mental health day if you can ... take a grain of salt with anything anyone says.
Aquarius: discussions with authority figures...will be far too nebulous and iffy to count on today.
Pisces: avoid making travel plans...they will only have to be changed. similarly avoid important decisions.
if your birthday is today: it's time to enjoy yourself.
GOOD LUCK.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
findings
The laundry room in our building has become quite the depository for unwanted items. A very large bin for used clothes appeared about a year ago with all donations benefiting Breast Cancer research. Very handy it has become. It is almost always full. A bookshelf appeared to hold all the books and bits of china that were being left on the floor. Of course things are still left on the floor because people are such lazy slobs. Once you've schlepped your stuff all the way down to the basement and along the hall, well, is it really too much that you lift the flap of the clothing donation bin? Or take your books out of the box and line them up on the shelf? Apparently it is.
It is even worse at the donation boxes in the parking lots of shopping malls. Even though they clearly state it is for 'CLOTHING ONLY' and may even list all the items that must not be left there, you will see piles of garage sale rejects left on the ground. Common sense would tell you that a bin for a clothing drop off would not be able to use your children's toys, kitchen chairs, old computer parts, or fake flower arrangements. And you, who left that lazy boy rocker, or the old TV still in its original 1960's console, did you really expect it to survive the rain we have seen daily?? Could you not have just gone to a Goodwill, or Sally Ann or Value Village??
Our garage also gets its fair share of castoffs. And you will often see people wandering around the recycling bins to see if anything useful has been left. I have gotten quite a few things - and have left behind quite a few things. Anything in good condition will be gone almost immediately. Sometimes you will see a chair, or table, or plant stand reappear months or years later, soon to be claimed by another tenant. It is like a long term lending library of furniture.
The other day I took a box of books down to the shelves and by the time I came back to pick up my laundry 45 minutes later most of them had disappeared. The pickings of reading material is often interesting. Our building used to be adult only and there are still a fair number of 'older persons' who will move on to a smaller 'home' or whose belongings will be cleared out by their family. You can tell when such a collection has been cleared out. Suddenly dozens of old cookbooks will appear. Novels written of a certain era. Some people are seemingly still into collecting Silhouette or Harlequin Romance. Literally dozens of them will appear at a time. Someone had a real dieting issue with the collection of South Beach, Atkins, Fit4Life, WeightWatchers, No Carbs, Low Fat, Protein books that were dropped off. A half dozen books on horse training and dressage were once seen. Travelling Nova Scotia and the Cabot Trail had three versions all from the 1970's. Some of these will languish for weeks before being trucked off to ... a charity shop somewhere.
But today, I scored these:
The Red Queen by Margaret Drabble
Flying Finish by Dick Francis
The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler
Astrid & Veronika by Linda Olsson
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
The In-Between World of Vikram Lall by MG Vassanji
Whiteshorn Woods by Maeve Binchey
Small Island by Andrea Levy
The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer
Don't Go To The Cosmetics Counter Without Me by Paula Begum
Except for the last one, I believe I have my reading material for the airport and plane.
The train will provide its own entertainment that I won't want to miss.
Anyone read any of these?
It is even worse at the donation boxes in the parking lots of shopping malls. Even though they clearly state it is for 'CLOTHING ONLY' and may even list all the items that must not be left there, you will see piles of garage sale rejects left on the ground. Common sense would tell you that a bin for a clothing drop off would not be able to use your children's toys, kitchen chairs, old computer parts, or fake flower arrangements. And you, who left that lazy boy rocker, or the old TV still in its original 1960's console, did you really expect it to survive the rain we have seen daily?? Could you not have just gone to a Goodwill, or Sally Ann or Value Village??
Our garage also gets its fair share of castoffs. And you will often see people wandering around the recycling bins to see if anything useful has been left. I have gotten quite a few things - and have left behind quite a few things. Anything in good condition will be gone almost immediately. Sometimes you will see a chair, or table, or plant stand reappear months or years later, soon to be claimed by another tenant. It is like a long term lending library of furniture.
The other day I took a box of books down to the shelves and by the time I came back to pick up my laundry 45 minutes later most of them had disappeared. The pickings of reading material is often interesting. Our building used to be adult only and there are still a fair number of 'older persons' who will move on to a smaller 'home' or whose belongings will be cleared out by their family. You can tell when such a collection has been cleared out. Suddenly dozens of old cookbooks will appear. Novels written of a certain era. Some people are seemingly still into collecting Silhouette or Harlequin Romance. Literally dozens of them will appear at a time. Someone had a real dieting issue with the collection of South Beach, Atkins, Fit4Life, WeightWatchers, No Carbs, Low Fat, Protein books that were dropped off. A half dozen books on horse training and dressage were once seen. Travelling Nova Scotia and the Cabot Trail had three versions all from the 1970's. Some of these will languish for weeks before being trucked off to ... a charity shop somewhere.
But today, I scored these:
The Red Queen by Margaret Drabble
Flying Finish by Dick Francis
The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler
Astrid & Veronika by Linda Olsson
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
The In-Between World of Vikram Lall by MG Vassanji
Whiteshorn Woods by Maeve Binchey
Small Island by Andrea Levy
The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer
Don't Go To The Cosmetics Counter Without Me by Paula Begum
Except for the last one, I believe I have my reading material for the airport and plane.
The train will provide its own entertainment that I won't want to miss.
Anyone read any of these?
Friday, July 11, 2008
water, water
So, I was checking out Noha's blog and came across her post referring to a water use calculator.
Decided to check it out for myself, just out of curiosity. Thinking, rather smugly, that my usage will be so low and I will feel so virtuous in my conservancy.
Not so fast.
Even without the extra 'not applicable' bits (dishwasher, laundry, pool, yard) I was only a little below the average.
Still, at least I was below.
Ed: this is a Canadian site, but still, play along. Just pick a province or territory at random, Ontario being the most populous and Nunavut the least, with PEI being the most densely populated by area.
Decided to check it out for myself, just out of curiosity. Thinking, rather smugly, that my usage will be so low and I will feel so virtuous in my conservancy.
Not so fast.
Even without the extra 'not applicable' bits (dishwasher, laundry, pool, yard) I was only a little below the average.
Still, at least I was below.
Ed: this is a Canadian site, but still, play along. Just pick a province or territory at random, Ontario being the most populous and Nunavut the least, with PEI being the most densely populated by area.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Violet - the gentlest corner of the rainbow
Roses are red,
violets are blue.
That's what they say,
but it just isn't true.
Roses are red,
and apples are too.
But violets are violet,
violets aren't blue.
An Orange is an orange,
But Greenland's not green.
A pinky's not pink,
so what does it mean?
To call something blue
when it's not, we defile it.
But what the heck,
it's hard to rhyme violet.
from The Animaniacs
Orphaned at the coolest end of the rainbow, as vulnerable to frost as an April flower, distant from the passion and power of red, the colour violet remains misunderstood and fragile, suffering, through no fault of its own, for the sin of not being purple.
But it is its ineluctable confusion with purple that torments violet the most.
True violet can not be concocted by mixing red and blue.
The colour violet has long been associated with spirituality. In ancient times, when alchemists sought to change base metals into gold, violet was seen as a key to spiritual transformation.
The Count of St Germain, an 18th century courtier, adventurer and alchemist, used the violet flame for enlightenment and for achieving a state of unity with the Divine.
Leonardo da Vinci claimed his meditative powers increased tenfold when sitting under a a violet light coming through stained glass.
Richard Wagner used violet light in his surroundings when composing his operas.
Simple happiness seems to elude all who are tinted by it:
violets are blue.
That's what they say,
but it just isn't true.
Roses are red,
and apples are too.
But violets are violet,
violets aren't blue.
An Orange is an orange,
But Greenland's not green.
A pinky's not pink,
so what does it mean?
To call something blue
when it's not, we defile it.
But what the heck,
it's hard to rhyme violet.
from The Animaniacs
Orphaned at the coolest end of the rainbow, as vulnerable to frost as an April flower, distant from the passion and power of red, the colour violet remains misunderstood and fragile, suffering, through no fault of its own, for the sin of not being purple.
But it is its ineluctable confusion with purple that torments violet the most.
True violet can not be concocted by mixing red and blue.
The colour violet has long been associated with spirituality. In ancient times, when alchemists sought to change base metals into gold, violet was seen as a key to spiritual transformation.
The Count of St Germain, an 18th century courtier, adventurer and alchemist, used the violet flame for enlightenment and for achieving a state of unity with the Divine.
Leonardo da Vinci claimed his meditative powers increased tenfold when sitting under a a violet light coming through stained glass.
Richard Wagner used violet light in his surroundings when composing his operas.
Simple happiness seems to elude all who are tinted by it:
"Violet! Sweet Violet! Thine eyes are filled with tears.
Are they wet, even yet, with the thought of other years"
"A violet on the meadow grew
that no-one saw, that no-one knew..."
*********************************************
This post stolen and excerpted from AVENUE COLOURS
nationalpost.com/colours to read more of the 7 part series on the exploration of colour
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Snowflake Medal
So, I was going to be all irrelevant and just post funny comics, if I felt like posting, since most people are off on some holiday. Or enjoying the damn fine weather we're having. Or wondering about Nadal vs Federer or Williams, V vs Williams, S. to be wanting to think or read about anything serious and thought provoking as honours and abortions and knickers twisting.
And yet, the Canadian media has certainly helped whip up a frenzy this past week over the recent awarding of Dr Henry Morgentaler to the Order of Canada.
For all of you non Canadians, a primer:
Henry Morgentaler is 84 years old, born in Ludz, Poland and was a family doctor who gave up his practice in Montreal to open his first abortion clinic in defiance of the laws of 1968. He endured several trials, assassination attempts, protests, firebombing of his clinic in Toronto and eventually 10 months in jail in his unwavering "committment to increased health care options for women, his determined efforts to influence Canadian public policy and his leadership in humanist and civil liberties organizations." [from the Governor General's website on the award]
This is and always was and will continue to be a very explosive and emotional issue.
I will not wade in with my personal opinion.
The awarding of such honours are not a personal choice of individual Canadians.
Here are some samplings of opinions from people who waded in anyway:
Yay: "Mr Morgentaler ensured the rights of Canadian women to safe and legal abortions without the interference of church, state or pro forma hospital committees. For that reason alone - for the right of all women to be regarded as capable of making a decision whether to bear children - Morgentaler merits the Order of Canada." [Catherine Ford, Calgary Herald]
Nay: "It's not like he did it in a volunteer spirit. He was running for-profit clinics." [Robert Thibeault, MP]
On the fence: "I guess my preference, to be frank, would be to see the Order of Canada be something that really unifies, that brings Canadians together." [Stephen Harper, PM]
The Order of Canada is our country's highest civilian honour. It is meant to recognize a "lifetime of outstanding achievement and dedication to community". Forty-three names are included in the list of Members and 26 as Officers on July 1st. Those have all been overshadowed by this one appointment. In fact, by now, at least one person officially and a few others in letters to the editor have stated they would like to return their medal as they "do not want to be associated" with such a member. One man out of the 4,000 or so other members.
Created in 1967, the order was established to recognize the lifetime contributions made by Canadians who made a major difference to Canada. The first level, Member of the Order of Canada, is awarded for "a lifetime of distinguished service in or to a particular community, group or field of activity." One man, who asked to remain unnamed to avoid media publicity, told LifeSiteNews.com that, although he had been named as a recipient for his volunteer activities, he would ask the committee to remove his name from the list. "At first I thought it was a great honour. But right now I'm not sure I'm a proud Canadian. Honour dropped down quite a bit today," he said. [from LifeSiteNews.com website]
Now, this is just me, but I admit that out of those 70 names, I only recognised three.
So, I ask of any Canadians out there not watching Wimbledon this weekend, can you name 10 Order of Canada recipients off the top of your heads?
Without cheating?
Who are NOT former Prime Ministers?
And yet, the Canadian media has certainly helped whip up a frenzy this past week over the recent awarding of Dr Henry Morgentaler to the Order of Canada.
For all of you non Canadians, a primer:
Henry Morgentaler is 84 years old, born in Ludz, Poland and was a family doctor who gave up his practice in Montreal to open his first abortion clinic in defiance of the laws of 1968. He endured several trials, assassination attempts, protests, firebombing of his clinic in Toronto and eventually 10 months in jail in his unwavering "committment to increased health care options for women, his determined efforts to influence Canadian public policy and his leadership in humanist and civil liberties organizations." [from the Governor General's website on the award]
This is and always was and will continue to be a very explosive and emotional issue.
I will not wade in with my personal opinion.
The awarding of such honours are not a personal choice of individual Canadians.
Here are some samplings of opinions from people who waded in anyway:
Yay: "Mr Morgentaler ensured the rights of Canadian women to safe and legal abortions without the interference of church, state or pro forma hospital committees. For that reason alone - for the right of all women to be regarded as capable of making a decision whether to bear children - Morgentaler merits the Order of Canada." [Catherine Ford, Calgary Herald]
Nay: "It's not like he did it in a volunteer spirit. He was running for-profit clinics." [Robert Thibeault, MP]
On the fence: "I guess my preference, to be frank, would be to see the Order of Canada be something that really unifies, that brings Canadians together." [Stephen Harper, PM]
The Order of Canada is our country's highest civilian honour. It is meant to recognize a "lifetime of outstanding achievement and dedication to community". Forty-three names are included in the list of Members and 26 as Officers on July 1st. Those have all been overshadowed by this one appointment. In fact, by now, at least one person officially and a few others in letters to the editor have stated they would like to return their medal as they "do not want to be associated" with such a member. One man out of the 4,000 or so other members.
Created in 1967, the order was established to recognize the lifetime contributions made by Canadians who made a major difference to Canada. The first level, Member of the Order of Canada, is awarded for "a lifetime of distinguished service in or to a particular community, group or field of activity." One man, who asked to remain unnamed to avoid media publicity, told LifeSiteNews.com that, although he had been named as a recipient for his volunteer activities, he would ask the committee to remove his name from the list. "At first I thought it was a great honour. But right now I'm not sure I'm a proud Canadian. Honour dropped down quite a bit today," he said. [from LifeSiteNews.com website]
Now, this is just me, but I admit that out of those 70 names, I only recognised three.
So, I ask of any Canadians out there not watching Wimbledon this weekend, can you name 10 Order of Canada recipients off the top of your heads?
Without cheating?
Who are NOT former Prime Ministers?
The cynical side of me will now list these illustrious few:
- CONRAD BLACK - crook
- CELINE DION - diva
- SUE JOHANSON - sex talker
- WAYNE GRETZKY - great one
- ELIZABETH BOWES LYON - Queen Mum
- PIERRE TRUDEAU - loved and hated PM
- H SANFORD RILEY - who?
- JOE CLARK - Joe Who
- MONTY HALL - come on down
- JOHN A MACNAUGHTON - Canada Pension Plan Investment Board (look how well that turned out)
Thursday, July 3, 2008
bees knees
It seemed such a lovely way to spend an afternoon. Sitting by the water partaking of the Strawberry Social. My friend Jan was even willing to share most of the cream in the bowl of strawberries and cream we had together. She ate her tart on her own. Now, I know that I am allergic to strawberries, but have managed to be able to eat maybe two or three at a sitting if each bite is surrounded by cream or yoghourt or, my personal fave - custard. But not this time. This years crop is not liking me as much. I haven't felt like this since the summer of 1994, when even a hint of a strawberry, or tomato, or kiwi would set my mouth on fire with tiny pimply boil like eruptions. Most unpleasant, to put it mildly.I am feeling better today. Less fire, but certainly a lot of tenderness. The roof of my mouth and the insides of my cheeks and my lower lip are a bit raw. I thought the yoghourt would help. It seems to have the most pleasing consistency to gently coat and cool and soothe. Then I got hungry and last night thought maybe some honey would be good. After all it is good for sore throats.
Big mistake. Having it on a slice of freshly baked, very soft bread with 1/4 inch of butter also a mistake. Sigh. I was really looking forward to that.
Honey slides down your throat much easier than off the roof of your mouth.
I tried to move it along with my tongue, which only moved the pimply skin on the roof of my mouth - agony. Next instinctual move is to SUCK it off the surface. So now I am pulling all this tender, loose, pimply skin. I held my face in one of those isometric exercises for as long as I could until the suction finally released and I fell to my knees. I found a hand mirror to check that I still had skin on the inside of my mouth. It was not a pretty sight. All white and puffy. I felt very sorry for myself.
But it made me think about honey. Anything to distract. Another blogger mentioned that her son was taking a beekeeping class. Sounds intriguing. Then I read about a truck that turned over on a highway in NB spilling its load of 12 million bees. The bees were being shared by Ontario to help pollinate their blueberries as there are not enough around. And there is the Honey Moon Suite on top of the Royal York Hotel that is now home to 3 beehives after a bit of a struggle with the city. There are various laws that govern keeping hives within certain distances of residential areas, even at 16 storeys above. You wouldn't think there'd be enough for the bees to live on, but along with the rooftop garden for them to play in, there is a buffet feast in the ravines and the islands for them to gorge on. I've learned that bees travel about in 12 km range, so whatever is grown in that specific area is found in the honey they produce. You cannot get more local than that. And I'll bet most people walking along Front, or King or Queen or coming out of Union Station aren't even aware of them.
I used to drive past an apiary almost every day when I lived farther away, and I loved to stop by their roadside stand and try out their different honeys. When I was growing up, we only had Billy Bee Honey. Usually creamed. Sometimes, if my mother felt adventurous it might be buckwheat honey. What a sheltered life we had in the 60's. The first time I ever tasted anything more decadent than Clover honey was in New Zealand - their honey rivals their ice cream and would warrant a return visit just for that if my carbon footprint wouldn't put the buying spree through the roof. Now it is possible to find honey of many hues and textures and flavours. From many different countries. Local is good. But so is honey from every part of the world. And, amazingly, honey is one product that can be made naturally in every climate. Every jar is subtly different. Every taste an experience like no other. What I have in my cupboard now is a Blueberry and a Pear Blossom. At $7.95 a jar it is not to be wasted.
Therefore, I sucked all that honey from the inside of my mouth and shed a tear.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
skipping naked through the dew
Around these parts we have had rather a lot of rain of late. Yesterday was actually the first day the weather forecast did not include any of the words: rain, showers, thunder storms.
The rain hasn't been that bad. And there has been rather a lot of sunshine throughout it all, so it certainly hasn't been gloomy. And, until today there has been no humidity. The clouds have been amazing, too.
So, no, I am not complaining about the weather.
I have three part-time jobs. None of them are what you might call the normal 9-5 kind. And none of them include sitting at a desk. Or in front of a computer. I consider myself very fortunate for that.
One of my jobs involves being outside. Making deliveries. In the middle of the night. I do a fair bit of walking in between a lot of driving.
I also do a fair bit of lawn walking as I make my way up to your front porch.
Where I drop off
your newspaper.
Every night. Rain or moonshine.
Now, what I have noticed over the years is that an awful lot of people have these automatic sprinkler systems. They seem to be timed to come on no matter what the weather. Rain or drought.
A few years ago when we had a water ban, a snitch line was set up to report people who insisted on watering their lawn. I don't think it was very successful, or that anyone was actually charged never mind deterred. One of the offenders happened to be the local cop shop. A friend of mine called the snitch line. Nothing changed. He tried to make sure the bag their paper was in got wet.
Really, those verdant green patches were not hard to miss among all the dull brown patches. Interestingly, once it finally did rain, the lawns turned
green!
Just like that.
Gardening experts will say that a once a week soaking is enough. Yet, there are many people who insist on a nightly or every other nightly soaking. Mushrooms are starting to sprout. Some lawns are veritable bogs.
It has rained every day for more than 2 weeks. Heavy soaker type rain. Light soaker type drizzle. Every type of rain imaginable.
Yet, still people are contributing to this wanton waste of water. Gallons and gallons of water on a lawn that is not thirsty.
At this time of year, the dew is heavy on the leaf. Your lawn is soaked to the skin in dew.
Trust me. It is true.
At midsummer it is a tradition to walk in the dew barefoot to help keep your skin from getting chapped, or wash your face in it to help keep your complexion young.
Or roll around naked in it for healing. Or skip naked through it for fertility.
I have not encountered anyone rolling around naked. Thank God.
Folks you are ruining the dew.
For more midsummer festivities and pictures see The Iceland Weather Report
* So long, and thanks for all the fish
the fourth book in the Hitch Hiker Trilogy
The rain hasn't been that bad. And there has been rather a lot of sunshine throughout it all, so it certainly hasn't been gloomy. And, until today there has been no humidity. The clouds have been amazing, too.
So, no, I am not complaining about the weather.
I have three part-time jobs. None of them are what you might call the normal 9-5 kind. And none of them include sitting at a desk. Or in front of a computer. I consider myself very fortunate for that.
One of my jobs involves being outside. Making deliveries. In the middle of the night. I do a fair bit of walking in between a lot of driving.
I also do a fair bit of lawn walking as I make my way up to your front porch.
Where I drop off
your newspaper.
Every night. Rain or moonshine.
Now, what I have noticed over the years is that an awful lot of people have these automatic sprinkler systems. They seem to be timed to come on no matter what the weather. Rain or drought.
A few years ago when we had a water ban, a snitch line was set up to report people who insisted on watering their lawn. I don't think it was very successful, or that anyone was actually charged never mind deterred. One of the offenders happened to be the local cop shop. A friend of mine called the snitch line. Nothing changed. He tried to make sure the bag their paper was in got wet.
Really, those verdant green patches were not hard to miss among all the dull brown patches. Interestingly, once it finally did rain, the lawns turned
green!
Just like that.
Gardening experts will say that a once a week soaking is enough. Yet, there are many people who insist on a nightly or every other nightly soaking. Mushrooms are starting to sprout. Some lawns are veritable bogs.
It has rained every day for more than 2 weeks. Heavy soaker type rain. Light soaker type drizzle. Every type of rain imaginable.
Type 33 (light pricking drizzle which made the roads slippery), to 39 (heavy spotting). [Types] 47-51 (vertical light drizzle through to sharply slanting light to moderate drizzle freshening), 87 and 88 (two finely distinguished varieties of vertical torrential downpour), 100 (post downpour squalling) all the seastorm types between 192 and 213 at once, 123, 124, 126, 127 (mild and intermediate cold gusting, regular and syncopated cab drumming), 11 (breezy droplets), and [even the least favourite of all], type 17. Rain type 17 was a dirty blatter blattering against the windscreen so hard that it didn't matter whether the wipers were on or off. *
Yet, still people are contributing to this wanton waste of water. Gallons and gallons of water on a lawn that is not thirsty.
At this time of year, the dew is heavy on the leaf. Your lawn is soaked to the skin in dew.
Trust me. It is true.
At midsummer it is a tradition to walk in the dew barefoot to help keep your skin from getting chapped, or wash your face in it to help keep your complexion young.
Or roll around naked in it for healing. Or skip naked through it for fertility.
I have not encountered anyone rolling around naked. Thank God.
Folks you are ruining the dew.
For more midsummer festivities and pictures see The Iceland Weather Report
* So long, and thanks for all the fish
the fourth book in the Hitch Hiker Trilogy
Thursday, May 22, 2008
tips for the unwashed
For your reading pleasure I present the following Allure article.
Read the comments, too, to realize how many of us have been doing this oh so wrong.
Now, if you'll excuse me........
Read the comments, too, to realize how many of us have been doing this oh so wrong.
Now, if you'll excuse me........
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
indecision
Till past one, Lord’s day, in the morning writing letters to the fleete and elsewhere, and my mind eased of much business, home to bed and slept till 8. So up, and this day is brought home one of my new silk suits, the plain one, but very rich camelott and noble. I tried it and it pleases me, but did not wear it, being I would not go out today to church. So laid it by, and my mind changed, thinking to go see my Lady Sandwich, and I did go a little way, but stopped and returned home to dinner, after dinner up to my chamber to settle my Tangier accounts, and then to my office, there to do the like with other papers. In the evening home to supper and to bed.Samuel Pepys (1633-1703)was the naval administrator and first secretary of the British Admiralty under King James II who is most famous for his diary which he kept from 1660-1669
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