marching on

Tomorrow, it will be March. March is a good month, not just because it has my birthday and the first official days of spring (and this year, as a bonus Easter) though mostly because of that. Also because it has an 'r' that everyone pronounces. Having to listen, with gritted teeth, to Febuary will decrease dramatically for the next ten months or so.

On a personal note, I will be glad to say goodbye to February and all the ill it has brought. Not just because of the snow and slush, I don't mind that and it does make all that money on snow tires worth the expense (unlike during last year's non winter). But I didn't need the added expense of something called 'bushings' and then even more expense for the front end stabilizers that my mechanic realized needed immediate attention once he test drove the new tires. I thought the problem was near bald tires on slick roads. I was wrong. This was on top of the immediate transmission repairs. in spite of the smoother, safer, quieter ride, I am feeling a tiny bit of resentment towards my auto for giving me so much grief.

Then my arm started acting up in a painful, rebellious act of determination to keep me from enjoying any part of life that involved eating, drinking, buttoning, keyboarding, or generally moving. Oh, and working. Tendinitis is not good for anyone, but for someone who uses their arms to help other people with things like tendinitis, it is galling. And a hazard of the job.

And, February has introduced me to pneumonia. This was my first bout with pneumonia and I suppose it could be good to know first hand just how awful an experience it really is, I think I could have faked that knowledge quite convincingly.

So, major expenses and no work to pay for them.
I want March to be cuddly and warm. And playful, like a lamb.

run of your life

Every year it takes me by surprise. Certain spring Saturday afternoons come along and suddenly an interest in horse racing takes hold and I want to watch those few minutes of a fast paced adrenaline rush.

I am in no way a horsey person. I don't dislike them. They are wonderful creatures, but I don't get all soft and dewy over a horse as I would over, say, a cat, or a duck, even. But, yesterday when I heard on the car radio the stunning news that I'll Have Another would not be racing in the Belmont Stakes and thus would not be a Triple Crown contender - possibly the first winner since Secretariat in 1973, an event I remember well for some reason considering I was only 15 - I had to pull over and catch my breath. I hope he has a good, long life out on the stud farm, but I was deeply saddened to hear that his injury would prevent him form running. Then again, I was also relieved that his owners made that decision not to risk his life.

When Barbaro broke his leg in 2006 at the Preakness, I followed his recovery process avidly, amazed that such a catastrophic injury would be treated and the lengths they went to help him. Sadly, it was all too much for Barbaro and he died of complications when his other feet developed laminitis due to his not being able to put his full weight on his unbroken legs. Still, for seven months there was hope.

I felt a sharp pain of regret in 2004 when Birdstone outran Smarty Jones and foiled another attempt at a Triple Crown. It was a surreal moment when a tearful owner of the winning horse apologized and said "I'm sorry, so sorry that Smarty Jones couldn't win".

Canada has it's own Triple Crown with the Queen's Plate, The Prince of Wales Stakes and the Breeder's Stakes. The last time a horse won the Triple Crown was in 2003. I had to look up his name (it was Wando). Okay, I admit I am one of those people who jump on the bandwagon at the last minute and get caught up in the rush.

What I know about horse racing, I learned from reading Dick Francis. I have been to a couple of races, though they were harness racing that was held at a racetrack a few blocks from where I lived. I have never been to see the Queen's Plate, which is being held next Saturday. Horse racing has been in a steady decline over the years and now the Ontario government is considering putting a stop to a profitable and beneficial revenue sharing program where slots machines and gaming facilities were put into racetracks to complement the gambling. Lots and lots of money from these OLG (Ontario Lottery and Gaming) machines has benefitted the government as well as the racetracks who received a portion of revenue. It sounds like a perfect mix. Now, the talk is of taking these slots out of the racetracks and building a new casino in a more densely populated urban area. Like the waterfront of Toronto. Seriously. Ruining a good waterfront location by building a massive windowless structure so people can sit inside with blinking lights. At least at Woodbine, there is the option of going outside and seeing some horses going through their paces. Or winning a race. A live win, not a fabricated one from a machine.

Still, I will watch the Belmont this afternoon and toast to I'll Have Another's health.

last weekend - part one

Last weekend I took an overnight trip. One that had been planned and thought about for weeks. Months, actually. Not to anywhere exotic by any means. Just a small town on a river. Perhaps take a boat cruise to a few of the Thousand Islands dotted on the river. A hike or two along the 12kms of looping trails to see the fall colours.

Enjoy the outdoors in the off season when it would be much less crowded. 

And, the main impetus that got me there, a wander through some of the Doors Open participants, many of which were the huge old homes of the area that have been turned into luxurious Bed & Breakfast establishments.

About an hour into my (3+ hour) journey, I wondered why I was doing this. Had I not had a motel room booked, I would likely have said, forget it and crawled back into bed. But I persevered through the rain. And the unseasonably cold temperatures that seemed to be in effect for only that weekend. It had been sunny and warm up until the Friday and would return to sunny and warm - actually rising to unseasonably warm by the following weekend - on the Monday.

But, you never know. All those weather forecasters could be wrong. It could change. And, it did get warmer than 10C. I saw many people were still taking one of the several boat cruises and I was warned that it was indeed very cold out on the water. A bargain store was in stock with some gloves and I added a hoodie to my purchase when I realized that my jacket hood might not be enough to keep the cold wind out of my ears. Then I waited until the Sunday to see what would transpire.

(more pics on Sightlines; you'll see what transpired.)

In the end the colours weren't all that great and I took no hikes and no boat cruise. I knew I would return when the weather was nicer. No point in paying twice for the boat, once in damp, foggy, miserable weather and again in warm, sunny, cheerful weather.

I do have a habit of trying to pack in far too much when I go away on these little excursions. I sometimes forget to just kick back and enjoy the day and I end up coming home exhausted rather than refreshed. (see, it has even taken me almost all week to write about it!)

The Bed & Breakfast homes were each beautiful and I will have a hard time deciding which one to choose to stay at (should I find myself with a few days and lots of spare money to enjoy the stay).

I didn't take many pictures of the rooms... after all that is what the website is designed to show.

And it was fun to go through and hear the owners tell of the history of the house and the original owners (and sometimes, hear stories from some of the towns people who remembered) and to hear the tales of transforming some of these gracious homes up to code and collecting the antiques and furnishings to go into each room.

I used to have a client who was a very intense person with a stressful job and when she came to see me on Mondays she would tell me of her weekend jaunts. Almost every weekend, she would drive somewhere - sometimes not with any real plan as to where, and find a B&B or a motel and spend her time exploring and walking, or fishing and collecting her rocks. I found it a bit strange at the time. But now, I really see the appeal of this short escape. Small town Ontario has a lot to offer if you are not looking to be entertained, and sometimes, one or two nights staying there is enough. Sometimes you find a place you want to return to again and again.

When I came out of this B&B, this woman in pink was standing on the steps. I stepped aside, thinking she wanted to go inside and I was trying to photograph the flowers, but she just stood there, waiting. Waiting, I thought for someone else to join her. I wandered about taking a few pics until I noticed her husband standing way off on the sidewalk holding a camera. Waiting for me to get out of the way. She was still posing when I got into my car. If this was my shot, I can only wonder what his must have been like. I assume he wanted to get the whole house in his shot, but I'm afraid I don't see the point of her standing in the doorway. That is just me.

time to move

I don't wear a lot of jewellery. Not because I don't like it, it is more because I keep forgetting. I also can't really wear rings or bracelets or watches when I am working - they tend to get in the way of the massaging. But, I have started buying more pieces (as I work less...)

Some of you may remember that I bought a cute, decorative watch last year which I love,

though as it turns out I cannot read the time on it.

and it turns my wrist into a grey tarnished mess.


I still wear it and just deal with the problems as best I can.





Then, at the Elora art show I went to last week, I wandered into a tent displaying some exquisite glasswork. There were four watches on the table that hadn't sold at the artist's Christmas show and at the last minute she decided to include them in this one.
I fell in love with one... the bracelet part is glass.
I bought it. I love it because it is so pretty and I can read the numbers

except that it is a devil to work the clasp and after wearing it once, the little glass (plastic) crystal fell out.

Because I bought it at an art fair, I can't just go back to the store to return it or get it repaired (replaced, really, since I can't find the crystal) free of charge, I should think. But, I can't wear it as it is.

I am not sure how to deal with this. Any ideas? Would you email her? and if you did what would you ask her to do about it?

still waiting

Today didn't turn out quite as expected. It is now well past 5 pm (as I start writing this) and they have not come. Again. The letter said - and I quote (sans snarky rejoinders as much as I am so tempted...)  "As part of our ongoing effort to make living easy for you, we will be completing an annual suite inspection of your unit on Monday June 27th between the hours of 9am and 5pm. Should any deficiencies be noted, we will contact you after the inspection to co-ordinate a time to complete the required work. Please note, you do not need to be present for this inspection, however we kindly ask that you remove all deadbolts and chain locks." 

That last bit was in bold.

As if I would actually want an 'inspection' in my home without being present! Of course I planned to be present. When our previous superintendent was around, I would have gladly let him come in and do what he needed, knowing that he wasn't pleased at having to do these inspections any more than we were at having them done. (though whenever you hear about grow-ops or hoarders living in buildings, I rethink that idea) He would come in take a cursory look around and make the necessary notes, which one year involved recording the serial numbers of the fridge and stove. Really? What kind of maintenance inspection is that? Whatever. But I liked Mike. Nearly everyone liked him. Now we have an office full of staff who do not make themselves present to us so it is anyone's guess as to who would actually be conducting this inspection. And as past years have proved, they really don't intend to "make our living easier" by doing upgrades or any more maintenance than they can get away with not doing.

It would make my living easier if you just showed up. (and even easier if you actually did the required repairs...) But at 4:50 I got a phone call, saying they were behind schedule and they could come the next day if that was convenient. Well, since I had already waited up all day for them, no that would not be convenient. And I reminded the superintendent that since I work nights, I would like to sleep during the morning. Fine, the day after then.

So another day of little sleep and waiting around... There are things I want them to see and take note of, not the least of which are the washroom issues that still have not been fixed or replaced. And there are things that I do not want them to see, not the least of which would be my collection of clothes horses for drying my laundry on the balcony. They frown on that sort of thing, so why give them a reason to keep looking up... (which is also annoying in that the last three days have been perfect clothes-drying-outside weather: sunny and breezy. and I always use clothes pegs to stop them from flying off the balcony.)

I was a little excited about going down to the mailroom to pick up my mail today, though. I was thinking at least a few bills (or invoices really as most of my bills are paid automatically) and maybe a fistful of postcards from Postcrossing. It has been so long and I missed my daily hopeful visit to the mailbox. After weeks of strikes and a lockout and now back to work legislation, we got mail.

well, junk mail. that's it. one lonely flyer.

excitability clause

It was a good weekend, this past one. The rain held off even though all the weather people promised us we'd be getting some. Several droplets, most of the day, they said. I was not disappointed, as neither were the many vendors at the art and craft show (90% outdoors) down at the art centre. By sheer co-incidence of fantastic timing, this weekend was also our Doors Open. That is when nosy people can get inside participating buildings for free or that are normally closed to the public or are mostly available to church-going souls. The beauty of this Doors Open is that I can walk to most of them. I did have to drive to the local mosque and the new business college, but the rest that I went to see were within blocks of each other and my house. The little museum that I have never been inside in all my years of living here (for shame) was actually very interesting and had a beautiful display of 1920s dresses. There was also a display of Burlington as it has been since the beginning of time, with old maps and Indian artifacts and history lessons and photos. In a couple of months the clothing display will change to the Edwardian period and I think I will have to pay another visit (pay being the operative word in this case). I went on a walking tour that was offered this year (this is only our second year participating in Doors Open) which wasn't quite as informative as I'd hoped, but then I've been walking around my neighbourhood for over 12 years and have already tried to find out as much as I could about some of the heritage buildings. But I do like to know why streets have been given whatever name they have and will not shy away from asking to find out. I have never understood how some people can live in an area and not know anything about the streets around them.

After the walking tour, I ran into some friends and we wandered the craft show. I deliberately did not bring any money with me except for what I might need for a caffeinated beverage, however, there was a vendor or two who happily took my credit card. My friend Karen says she will take me out to a very nice restaurant so I can show off my new summer blouse. Then I headed into the centre to have a look at the photography display. Intending to just take a quick walk around then leave, something happened and I was trapped by my jaw dropping in awe of some of the photos and one person who followed me around determined to explain whatever he knew about the photos and their photographer. I almost had him shaken off when he introduced me to another photographer - one whose work I really, really would like to emulate. By the time I left he had me so inspired. Their photography club meets weekly and has a range of talents and abilities and he sounded so enthusiastic about it that I was ready to join up right then. Except it is on hiatus for the summer. Still, it was enough to get me excited about photography again. I know I am still taking pictures, but the spark has gone dull a bit. Sometimes, I am bored with what seems to be the same pictures. By then the sky was showing off some great clouds with late afternoon peek-a-boo sun and the light was just right....

It wasn't until last night that I finally stuck my SD card into the computer to upload the photos and see what beautiful works of art were created. Shoving the card into the cd drive was not the way to upload.

My little paperclip hook and tweezer rescue combo (yes, I have done this before) did not work as well as I thought it should and somehow it fell in deeper into a dark crevice that surely should not be that deep.  Shaking the monitor gently does nothing. The person who responded to my desperate plea for help on the Apple support community message board was very consoling (and it did look like it has happened to many people - there should be a little flap or something to make it more distinguishable) but it looks like it will be a trip to the store.

My excitement has waned a little.

wild nights in the city

During my nights of delivering newspapers, I often count things to keep myself alert and amused. Like counting driveways (which is useful for remembering which houses to deliver to) or how many rabbits were running around (which is considerably less useful).  It was winter, February as I recall, about 10 years ago, and I was mindlessly counting, and being slightly annoyed by the number of willow twig deer that graced so many of the front yards of this particular neighbourhood. I don't know why this annoyed me, but it did. Suddenly, as I passed the first three deer, I was aware that the other three deer had ever so casually turned their faces and eyes to gaze on mine. I stopped in my tracks and gazed back. It was a surreal moment that felt like it lasted half an hour, but was probably more like half a minute. Then, suddenly, in that instinctual way that animals do, they all turned as one and ambled away through the gap between the houses into the back yard. I was entranced. And I wondered if I would encounter them again. I did.  I was zooming around the corner when my headlight shone on a family of five deer standing in the middle of the road. I was ever so glad I had good snow tires and quick reflexes.

Rabbits are the most numerous of the animals I encounter - one night I counted 14 in one yard - and skunks are by far the most threatening, with the worst night trying to avoid 12. (I know, this counting stuff is all meaningless to you...) I have met up with several local wildlife and each time I find it a little exhilarating to see them in such a big urban area. Well, okay, that's maybe not exactly true. I do hate Tuesdays as that is garbage night and people still insist on putting their bags of garbage and their blue boxes with unwashed tins and jars out on the curb the night before pick up, which means it gets strewn halfway across the road and the yard by the raccoons and skunks. I have had my garden turned upside down and emptied by rabbits. I have had raccoons in my attic, skunks under the porch and squirrels tearing the screen to get into my kitchen. I have also been kept awake by the scratching and scrabbling of wildlife, not to mention the high pitched screeching of the mating and fighting of the raccoons.

But, never in  a million years would it occur to me bash a family of raccoons with a shovel as one man in Toronto has recently been arrested for doing. As meddlesome and annoying as these creatures can be, I also have a healthy admiration for their (and other wildlife, but especially raccoons) ability to adapt to urban living. City dwellers seem to be viciously divided on their relationship with wildlife living among them. (read some of the hundreds of comments on the linked article, if you have any doubts!) Some people hate them and others seem to find it fun to attract them by feeding them (as if these wild animals had no skills of their own). So, on the one hand we push certain animals, like deer away by invading their natural habitat and on the other we attract some, like raccoons, by leaving food and garbage for them to feast on, thus increasing their lifespan and their waistlines.

a pleasantly wasted day

I had another last minute cancellation today. This would be the third one in the last two weeks. Since I only had seven appointments, this is not a good average. Working part-time has some disadvantages...

Yesterday's phone call a half hour before I was to be at my appointment was rather annoying. We had already changed the time only the night before. Had I known what a busy schedule she had set up for herself, I would have gently convinced her to pick another day, knowing that she would be far too tired.

Really, I would have spent my day differently had I known that I would not be required to head out for an appointment at 7PM. I most probably would not have wasted a pleasant afternoon napping. I may have gone to the gym, or for a long walk. Or maybe called a friend to join me for lunch. I need to renew my membership at the botanical gardens and I might have done that before wandering through the trails looking for birds and wildflowers.  I may even have tackled the kitchen cupboards that I have been meaning to re-organize for some time.

Or, I may have just napped after all.

Of course, I could have done all that, even with an evening appointment. But, my day, as unstructured as it often is, feels very different when I know that I have no obligations. Starting work in the evenings and then continuing a second job through the night means my sleeping and eating patterns are hit and miss. I try to accommodate as much as possible and it helps to know when I am expected to be alert and personable. I am not very personable on little sleep. You'd think only working 4-5 hours a day would be a piece of cake and it might be if I were able to drift off to a blissful 8 hour sleep. I do tend to spend more time thinking about chores that need doing than actually doing them. It helps that I have no-one to account to and can ignore blaming myself.

I love having so much free time. I just wish so much of it wasn't wasted. I seem to be very good at doing that myself, without your cancellations.

Now, I have tea to drink on my balcony. That box of paperwork can wait another day.

rain, rain go away

Spring seems a long time coming.

Last year, at this time, spring had been here for weeks,  

though it is hard to accept that that was EARLY. An anomaly.

And it is Tulip Festival time in Ottawa.  I went to see it last year and there were fears that the tulips would be over before the festival began.  The ones we saw were a little spent and blown out, or battered by the rain.  This year, a very different story.  There are fears that there won't be any tulips blooming in time for the festival (which begins on Friday).  Before leaving Ottawa on Monday, I noticed workers were setting up tents and pavilions and getting things ready.  But any tulips we saw were barely out of the ground.

And as, usual, it rained while I was there.  For the third year in a row.  We did have two warm, sunny, clear days, but it was on Monday with the incessant, pelting rain that I chose to visit the Parliament Buildings with the misty view from the Peace Tower.

(a view of the west block which is still undergoing extensive restoration work.)

It was raining so heavily and I was so soaked that even though the Parliament Hill area seemed deadly quiet and therefore pleasant for walking, I thought I'd head home early and stop off at any town where it wasn't raining to walk around.

Even the ducks came out of the river to paddle around the Eternal Flame (they had jumped out by the time I reached them, but were circling around, ready for the next plunge).

I decided to have dinner in Kingston, a city I'd stopped at very briefly on my last trip to Ottawa and wanted to see more of at a time of day when places were open. This was the first capital of the Province of Canada (in 1841) so they have a nice historic downtown, right on the lake and I remembered that their City Hall was rather magnificent looking and my previous pictures weren't all that great so I wanted to get better ones. 

yeah, the cute tourist information place inside the old train station was also completely covered in scaffolding and green netting while it gets a new roof.

On the upside, it was being used as a polling station, so I pretended I belonged and wandered inside. 

Of course, because it was a polling station, I couldn't take pictures.

When I got home Iooked it up on the internet and here is a virtual tour if you are interested. 

Then it started to rain again.

taste for coffee

I miss my coffee. I don't drink nearly as much as I used to (I even used to manage a coffee shop) and it never really gave me that buzz that most people claim to get. No jolts awake in the morning. No jitters. Though, sometimes, once I started cutting back, I would notice that I would be unable to sleep if I drank my first cup in the afternoon without starting off slowly in the morning. But I always enjoyed it. Even when I drank it out of habit. My early morning start to the day always included a stop at Tim Horton's - only because it is pretty much the only place open at 2am. And my afternoon walk would invariably end up at one of my two favourite cafes nearby. Any shopping outing always included a rest stop and a reviving, steaming, mug of joe. I would be looking out for a place to get my coffee long before I started looking for whatever brought me to the shopping centre in the first place. I have a new favourite coffee place that involves a 12 minute drive into another city. Atmosphere with my coffee is very important.

Generally, the first sign that I might be coming down with something is my lack of taste for coffee. This time, there was no warning - one morning I simply woke up, threw up and things went downhill from there. Twice I bought myself a coffee to savour while sorting out my newspapers and both times, I found it very much lacking. Both times I thought, well, that was a huge waste of $1.52. I'll not do that again. Even if it is "roll up the rim" time at Timmy's. Even if my first cup WON me a 'donut'.

Now, I simply have no taste for it. No desire. In fact, it almost makes me feel sick again, just thinking about a coffee. I feel so lost.

And don't tell me to replace it with tea. I also love tea, but it is a very different drink. They are not interchangeable. I grew up with tea as an after dinner drink and coffee as a separate entity later in the evening. I still think of tea as a drink that accompanies a meal and coffee that is almost a meal in itself. Many, many foods do not go well with coffee, but most will not be burdened by the light, refreshing taste of tea.

Maybe if could stop munching on these Ricola cough drops my taste for coffee (and other foods) would return.

It is a long, slow journey for the six massive beer vats enroute to the Molson's brewery.

First, there was the 20 days crossing the ocean from Germany. They couldn't be unloaded for a few days due to high winds in November. Then they stayed in the Hamilton Port for a few weeks while the final logistics of the move were made. Then Christmas came... so the move was postponed so as not to interfere with holiday traffic.

But, last night was the much anticipated move. The first leg of a four night slow crawl.

Because of their size, highways are out of the question, they would never fit under the bridges, or the many overhead signs. The company charged with this undertaking had to plan a route that would avoid overpasses and then coordinate with police forces to close intersections, raise or cut hydro and cable wires to get the vats through, steer trucks by remote control through tight areas and remove metal poles then weld them back in place. The plan was to move about 10miles (15km) a night. then rest during the day.

Last night, it barely made it 3 miles into the first leg. The freight company is blaming the hydro company for not being prepared. Then a snow storm hit.

This map shows the anticipated first leg. The vats made it to Dundurn, just before the bridge. It still has a l-o-o-ng way to go!

The beer vats are huge — 45 metres long, eight metres high and more than seven metres wide - or in American values: 147' 7" long, 25' 3" high and more than 23' wide. And they can each hold enough liquid for about 1.2 million bottles of beer. There are 6 of them. Pity it's destined for Molson Coors and not a better brewery


Update on the crawl....
now that the convoy is out of the city things are moving better. the vats are now resting after a 12 hour 13km journey on day 2.

winter is upon us

I have just come inside after a nice long walk in the bright sunshine and crisp, cold air. There is some snow on the ground and a lot of ice, but it is not unmanageable. It is actually quite pleasant. Especially if you are dressed in appropriate layers.

Yet, all around us there is chaos. The wrath and fury of winter and lake effect snows has taken hold and gripped areas of Southwestern Ontario. Highways are closed, hundreds of people are stranded, dozens of vehicles abandoned. People are still digging themselves out of their homes. Yesterday's drive home show on CBC featured listeners calling in to report the conditions wherever they were - some incredulous at the blue sky and crawling traffic for no apparent reason (tales of 45 minutes to drive 8 blocks) and other spots that were virtually problem free while a few miles away there were snow squalls and whiteouts.

I used to live in what is known as the "snow belt" - an area of Ontario that gets a lot of snow, predictably, without fail, every year, though there are bands where the snow can be more or less - it is dramatic and instant as you cross over from one area to the next. You learn very quickly to be prepared. I admit that I have become a bit lax about my emergency supplies, but I used to make sure I never travelled without at least a blanket, a cache of food, a flashlight, an extra sweatshirt and pair of socks, an icescraper, snowbrush and shovel, and a big bag of kitty litter (non clumping!) along with the usual jumper cables, extra wiper fluid and a first aid kit. And a full tank of gas. Driving in a snow squall is probably the scariest thing I have ever done. My route to work took me through some picturesque winding country roads into the ski hills. I once followed the taillights of a vehicle ahead of me into his driveway because I had lost all sense of direction of where exactly I was on the highway. It was a good thing he was able to tell me exactly where we were so I could try to get some bearings once back out on the road. But I did not feel safe. The stress near about did me in. I needed a massage when I finally got home!

It is good to hear the warm hearted stories of people coming to rescue those who were stranded. But as often happens, a day or so on and the complaints start.... why weren't we warned? (weather patterns is not an exact science, how often have we had dire predictions that never materialized), why were the roads not closed? (some were and still people drove onto them... and got stuck) why weren't we rescued sooner? (the police and army had to endured the same conditions as you), and my personal favourite: a guy travelling from Michigan who was angry that he was even allowed to cross the border when there was a storm!! I don't know how much detailed weather and traffic updates these border guards have access to, but I'm sure he should not be blamed for not knowing there would be a blinding snow squall that suddenly come out of nowhere.

Winter can be such a cruel season.

it all started with a little bang

...actually, it all started with a little squeal. Then it progressed to a screeching. By then I had checked my calendar and picked a day to have my car's brakes looked at. Suddenly, overnight, it had become a grinding that got worse with every press of the brake pedal. Several hundred dollars later (including a rental for a day) and I was thinking that, yes, that other contract job I'd been offered was going to be pretty useful.

Someone asked me, just days before all this happened, if I knew a good mechanic. Well, yes, I did and I was happy to send some business his way. I told this person where he could find my good mechanic. "Is he any good", was his next question. Huh? Even if I didn't like you that much, do you honestly think I would rather give an unscrupulous mechanic (and there are many of them out there, I'm sure) more business? But, I like my mechanic. Saturdays are a little iffy, but mostly he is available. It is a small garage with just two people so there is no towing service, or courtesy car, but he does seem to be reliable. He explains only enough so that my eyes don't glaze over. I don't get the broken bits returned to me, like another garage used to do, but I'm fine with that. He knows what kind of work I do and takes that into consideration. If he finds something else that needs fixing immediately, he'll just go ahead and do it. If it can wait, he'll warn me to have it done in the near future. If it can't wait, but he is too busy, he'll call up another neighbourhood garage and send me there. He knows I am trying to sleep during the day, so doesn't bother me with phone calls to ask what he should do - I tell him to make my car better and leave him to it. Many's the time the car was left in the lot for me to pick up after hours; he knew I would return the next day to settle up. Try doing that with a big name automotive service centre.

Actually, my custom with Dan was sealed when another car I owned developed a problem with the battery. I knew it was the battery because, apart from the usual signs and symptoms, every time the car died and I recharged the battery it would work. But the charge didn't last very long. This happened when I was heading out to see a new client. It was a little embarrassing, being so late, then having to get her neighbour to give me a boost while I frantically called CAA for help. She was very understanding about it all. The big name automotive centre I tried was less interested in selling and installing a new battery than in performing a 'diagnostic test' to determine if the thing was indeed dead. And that would take time because there was a line up before me. They had a routine to follow. Just like when I needed a plug in my front left tire, a ten minute fix had to take 1 1/4 hours while they did their full feature routine (for which they charged extra). But it was a Sunday of a holiday weekend and I had little option. Anyway, I got my car to Dan's a couple miles down the road and he took one look at the battery and pronounced it as good as dead. Just to show me how little juice it had he attached some machine to it. In less than half an hour I was on my way and he was back at work on one of the other cars up on the hoist. The whole thing cost less than the 'diagnostic test' from Canadian Tire the other big name automotive centre.

Has anyone else noticed how many winter tire commercials are already on TV? I guess that will be the next big expense.

In other news, I have suddenly discovered just how funny The Big Bang Theory is. Apparently I have three seasons to catch up on. That would be two seasons of 23 espisodes and one season of 17, at approximately 23 minutes each. That is a total of 63 episodes. For 23 hours. I was up most of last night working on that by watching it on the internet.

One should not eat nuts while watching this show. Choking may occur.

gutted

After 30 years of neglect, they were in poor condition. After expropriation, things only got worse for this three block stretch of 41 buildings, some dating back 170 years. Today just before noon, the demolition crew was out with the crane to begin tearing down (1) what is considered the longest stretch of pre-Confederate buildings in Ontario. (2)



No-one bothered to get a historical designation on any of them.
There is no plan for the land once the buildings are gone.


By now, many of the residents are likely fed up with the decay. The stench. The undesirables who inhabited the buildings while they could. The division in the local government.

It was inevitable.

Why it became inevitable is the saddest part of all.

Take pride in what you have.

If you are a city with history, please don't erase it because you couldn't be bothered to take care of the historical structures.


And don't let the vultures in.

(1) photos of the first demolition
(2) a historical list of the buildings on the street

how to stretch your vacation time in an unpleasant way

By December 24th my final flight arrangements for a short trip to New York City were finalized.

Some stupid person didn't want the (by now quicker and less stressful) extra travel time to Buffalo, so opted for a Toronto Pearson departure. Hours of waiting only to have your flight cancelled due to... hours of waiting.

Hopefully this insanity will be over, or seriously diminished, in the next 10 days.

Seriously.

photo from Globe and Mail

please, no, don't change

So, hands up all who have received their new IKEA catalogue.
Have you looked through it?
Thoroughly?
Did you notice the changes that were made to the design of the catalogue?
Do you feel the "lack of warmth" in the new typeface?
No?
Well, it seems many people have noticed and have gotten their knickers in quite a twist over it. There is even a petition going to have the font changed back from the 'new' Verdana to the 'old' Futura. Actually, it was IKEA's customized version of Futura, which they have used for almost 50 years and has been an "integral part of their branding".
So much outrage over a font. Though, mostly, it is from people who are really, really into fonts and typefaces and graphic design who feel it is "a sad day" and are "horrified" by this shift. You can read all about their anger and angst here. But be warned, there will be more details about the significance and intricacies of various fonts than most of you (I'm guessing, though I may be wrong) will ever care about. I actually found it interesting, even though I didn't understand a lot of the details. IKEA says they changed it to blend with the web so that their online catalogue will match their printed catalogue. They also say that most people won't even notice the change and are surprised at the backlash.

Which makes it seem like they are saying it isn't important. Design isn't important? For a company that prides itself on innovative design? That is now using what some consider the most basic (and inelegant, when writ large) font available. Ah, but it is a free font, provided by Microsoft. Except all signs must now be changed... so, the cheap change does not come so cheap.

On Aug. 26, a Romanian design consultant started an online petition to get Ikea to change its mind. There are already almost 4,000 signatures! To add yours go here.
Wikipedia even has a page (that may be deleted soon) about this called Verdanagate, as well as a page on the catalogue.

Now the real issue for the rest of us may be that they are possibly gearing up for an end to their printed catalogue, which would be a shame. It is the most printed publication, surpassing the Bible and Harry Potter. There was a time when I had saved every one for over 10 years. I think I got tired of packing them up every time I moved and eventually got rid of them. On a rainy Saturday afternoon with nothing better to do though, I did like to thumb through the old ones and reminisce...
see here for a museum collection IKEA catalogues.

The most interesting part of this story is that IKEA has been around for 58 years! FUTURA VERDANA COMIC SANS

Though this wit thinks it will not last much longer!

And on this site you can find a 1965 version of the catalogue.

Now, I think I'll head out for some strong Swedish coffee and a look at some Sultans, Leksviks, Erdslevs, and maybe some Färgkrik.

(P.S. this font is Trebuchet)

where I make a plan

Right. So the other part of the story of the marathon on Sunday, the part you don't see in the photos, goes rather poorly. I couldn't find Sylvie in that silly looking running gear with the crowds at the finish line (we have only met in person once, but still email and talk on the phone since she temporarily gave up blogging [as Urban Animal]). But, I forgot to put her phone number into my cell phone, so instead of wasting more time, I thought I'd run home and get it. It was only 3 blocks. I used the time I needed to look up the number by catching my breath. Once the panting stopped and my heart rate returned to something a little less hectic, we connected and I sprinted back to our new meeting spot. I ever so gently steered her towards the nearest bench. My legs needed to sit. I can still feel a slight stitch in my side.

How sad is that?

Yesterday, I wandered over to the Y. Just to visit a friend, have a coffee, while I thought, again, about joining.

This morning, after work, I went inside.
Monthly payments will come off my credit card.
I had a 10 minute ride on the bike and a slightly shorter time on the treadmill.
I surveyed the other machines.
I wrote down the schedule of classes I want to take.
Yoga this afternoon.
Made a beeline to the steam room.

Now, I must rest.

Feel free to quiz me on my attendance record.

cheap cheep

After swearing to never set foot in the place. After going to the community meetings to see what the city was doing to keep them out of the area chosen. After bitching along with everyone else about the city eventually caving in to the demands because it became clear it was a losing battle we didn't have the money to waste on fighting any longer. I went into the new WalMart that opened a week ago.

It wasn't so much the WalMart that was the problem. We already have one at the top corner of the city and two others about 10 minutes away in neighbouring towns. It was the location. Right at the already busiest intersection. The one where everyone who wants to get in to, or out of, the GOtrain station to the east, or on to the highways one to the north and the other to the west, or downtown to the south, must endure long line ups to get through. The one that now has three new traffic lights within a half mile.

There about two or three items I go to WalMart to buy, because I haven't found them anywhere else. Or they are just so much cheaper. A few cents wouldn't make me trail up there, but a few dollars will. This allows me to buy more at the more expensive shops for other items.

But, out of equal parts laziness, curiosity, and a desire for my mango flavoured yoghourt, I went to see what the fuss was about. This much closer location is a SuperStore. I didn't realize that made such a difference from the other store that also sells food. This one is a full grocery store, with a deli counter and bakery and veggies and hot stuff and.... I was momentarily seduced. It was, of course all so clean and fresh looking as all brand spanking new stores are. I wandered the aisles and marvelled at the cheaper prices of their baked goods. Noticed that the fresh produce wasn't much cheaper. And that the dry goods were very limited in variety. But that, joy oh joy, they had my Dairyland Vanilla Mango yoghourt.

Then I spied their meat counter with the roast chickens (maybe $1 less, but smaller), and the packaged chicken. There were several that were marked "special" for $2.97. The chicken strips looked okay, the right colour, enough for three or four meals. I decided to pick one up. For that price, I certainly got a bargain. What I didn't get was any flavour. Even smothered in Butter or Korma sauce with extra onions, red peppers and broccoli and roast potatoes thrown in, your mouth asks what is this unidentified hunk of tenderness? Tofu had more flavour than these chicken strips. What did this poor chicken eat? It seemed such a waste of a chicken's life. Your destiny is to provide food but to end up as a tasteless morsel of blob ...

Are there even any nutrients in something with no flavour? (tofu excepted).
Am swearing once more.

a long drive in the woods

I'm not often easily impressed by new electronic gadgets. It takes me awhile. But a couple of months ago I was introduced to an iPhone, and an iTouch. My SIL and I had great fun playing with it. When a friend was telling me about her GPS that she had to get for her new car (that she rarely drives), I tried not to roll my eyes. Really, isn't a mapbook good enough? I have a large Rand McNally for the Golden Horseshoe. If where I am heading is on the awkward bit like the page edge or worse, the spine, I draw myself my own version on a sheet of paper and that usually suffices. I can always Google it beforehand and print off the map.

Then I got to play with the GPS and found out all that it could do. Just telling me something will not convert me. I need actual visual, hands-on proof. I had to concede that the features like distance and traffic delays and where the nearest ATM or gas station is could be extremely useful. It even tells you where restaurants are and what movies are on at the nearest cinema.

So much detail at a touch. I've been in love with this gadget ever since.

Many years ago, on a road trip to Winnipeg, a friend and I were cruising along the blasted out rock and pine tree filled stunning forests of North of Superior when it occurred to us that maybe we should have topped up the gas in Wawa (or wherever it was we left several hours ago, I forget at the moment). We saw a sign pointing down a road to the right that said Logging Camp, Gas Station. So off the highway we turned and drove down the rutted track. And drove, and drove, and drove some more because we were not quite deep enough into the never ending stunning forest. Seriously, we weren't sure we would even make it to the logging camp. Finally, after many, many minutes that may have equalled an hour, we reached what was obviously the end of the road. We knew this because after the few buildings and the gas station and general store, the road looped around back onto itself. The station sold le gaz, the signs were all in French, the attendant only spoke French and didn't understand our attempts at communicating. We filled up, bought a snack and headed back to the highway. By then we both needed to pee and since we hadn't passed a vehicle the whole way we stopped and checked out the lay of the bushes... a big logging truck passed us. We reached the highway and remembered that we needed to turn right to keep on towards the Manitoba border. About 1/2 km up the road, around a bend was a gas station. With a restaurant. And probably clean washrooms.

day one

Rearranging the bedroom and changing the linens from my sickbed seemed like a good idea for a New Year's Day housekeeping chore.

The books I pile up beside the bed, but haven't read, were lined up on the bookshelf. The tops of dressers and tables cleared of useless detritus. The bed was stripped of the old linens and and new flannel sheets put in place. The duvet was finally stuffed into its fresh cover. The cat was dragged out of the duvet cover. I was standing on the foot of the bed to give the duvet a good shake to straighten it out, then another good shake to drape it over the whole bed.

It was the second shake that did it.

That knocked against the lamp, that toppled onto the poinsettia that fell, knocking over the newly placed tumbler of water. The lamp is one of those tall skinny rod shaped ones with a small shade that clips on to the light bulb. Somehow, the shade managed to pop off the bulb, which was good because I like the shade, but not so good because it may have saved the bulb from shattering as it hit the windowsill.

Abby and I peered over the edge of the bed, looked at each other, sighed. Then she settled down to watch me clean up the by now muddy rivulets snaking a path under the bed.

So began my first day of the new year.

Later, a friend and I continued our tradition of going to a movie on New Year's and this year's choice was The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It is a visually stunning film to watch. Leisurely rambling and blessedly unsentimental, it is a tale covering the reversing life of Benjamin who is born an old man as a baby and regresses to a baby as a baby as he "ages". The CGI effects of Brad Pitt's expressions put on the face attached to the various actors who play Benjamin are arresting (it is amazing that you can see Brad in the face of the 10 year old old-man-child). Humorous moments like when the true Brad Pitt appears and his childhood sweetheart, who meets up with him after a long absence, says to him: look at you, you're perfect, stop you dead as you watch him grow younger and younger. If you enjoy a plot less fantasy of life, and don't mind a melancholic, fatalistic moral, I urge you to see this film.