The new name

I wish I could say I made it up, but I didn't. I had I promised a colleague I'd do an evaluation of her for a course she's taking. She sent me the instructions for finding the site, which I followed, but when I got there, the button I was supposed to click to get into the evaluation wasn't there. So I enquired, using an email link the organization had thoughtfully provided. What I received was the following, along with a new version of the same instructions, in a larger font, and with smaller, numbered, more delineated steps, just in case I was a moron who couldn't follow the original instructions:

PLEASE NOTE THA WEBSITE OF QUESTIONNARY ONLINE IS OUT OF SERVICE UNTIL 3H PM, THURSDAY 7 OCTOBER

I was delighted! It was the nicest thing that had happened to me since I'd gotten up in the morning. (Up till then, it had been a day of cancellations, rescheduling appointments, and missed messages.)

My friend, who writes a wonderful blog you can find here: http://itsjustapie.blogspot.com
suggested it would make a wonderful name for a blog -- and she's right. Maybe she's already set one up!
I'd just like for more people to be able to enjoy it as we did.

The penguin and the oil slick

Overheard at the hairdresser's the other day:
Young hairdresser speaking to my hairdresser, who's been away: "Did you hear about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico?"
My hairdresser: "No, what happened?"
Young hairdresser: "Well, it's the biggest spill ever, and it's like, coming onshore, and they can't, they can't stop it for some reason. I forget why they can't stop it."
Hairdresser's assistant (even younger than young hairdresser): "Oh the poor penguins!".
Silence.
Hairdresser's assistant: "Wait. Do they have penguins there?"

I bet you he'll get off

From the OPP Media Release web site:

Date: April 26, 2010

MARIHUANA SEIZED DURING DRUG SEARCH WARRANT AT QUINTE WEST RESIDENCE
Quinte West OPP Street Crime Unit AND members of Project "Longarm" with the assistance of the OPP K-9 unit conducted a CDSA search warrant at a Quinte West residence in Sidney Ward north of Frankford today.
During the search a quantity of, [sic] processed marihuana, growing marihuana, cannibis resin, cash, and other offence related property were seized.
A 33 year old Quinte West man was charged with Possession for the Purpose of Trafficking Marihuana and Production of Marihuana contrary to the CDSA.

I'd say they could have nailed him for the cannibis resin, but he'll probably walk for for possession of 'marihuana'. I'm pretty sure it's not illegal....

Ephemeral

Lasting for only a short time; transitory.

At this time of year, before the leaves are out, the forest floor becomes filled with ephemerals -- those short-lived but beautiful flowers that spring out of the just-thawed soil, turn their faces to the sun, and disappear only a few, short days later. They have a special place in the parade of growth; they're first to come and first to go, reminding us that even though we have all of summer to look forward to, nothing is permanent, and all must eventually die.

Some people are like that: they are with us only briefly,
but we feel lucky to have witnessed their brightness
and joy in living.
















We take pleasure in knowing them, and are cheered by their enthusiam.

And when they go, too soon, we mourn their passing.

I miss you Linda.

I love our neighbours to the south!

Three weeks ago, Ian and I headed south on a reconnaisance mission. We were looking for dog-friendly places to rent so that next year we can join the thousands of other snowbirds and escape the winter -- or at least part of it. And obviously if we're going to be absent for extended periods of time we need to find a place that will welcome Zephyr.

First we went to South Carolina. We saw live oaks:

And big old houses. This one's for sale:
We saw drowned coastlines: And regular, undrowned beaches: In our room at the B&B were a selection of magazines. This one caught my eye:

Can you imagine this being published in Canada? Harrowsmith and Hand Guns? Canadian Living with Long Guns? Imagine the shock! Imagine the outrage!

You've got to admit: it's a great title for a magazine.

Everywhere we went, people were friendly, outgoing, and helpful. Their economy is the pits but they are still thoughtfully optimistic. One woman at a gas station told me to have a 'blessed' day. I said to Ian when I returned to the car: "That's got to be better than a regular old 'good' day.

We were told that alligators can be a problem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBJ-lo9AnF8

And while we were there, a man, jogging on a beach, was killed by a small airplane making a crash landing. Apparently the pilot couldn't see the man because there was oil spaying onto the plane's windshield, and the jogger didn't hear the plane because he was listening to his iPod. Is this a cautionary tale about the dangers of flying small airplanes, of jogging, or of listening to your iPod?

You just never know what's coming down the road.

After a few days, we moved on to Florida. We stayed with friends who have a place north of Tampa. We relaxed, picked grapefruit, and put in some beach time:

But this part of the world is crowded, and the only dogs we saw tended to be the type that fit into purses, so we headed northwest to the panhandle and a place called Cape San Blas.

Cape San Blas is essentially a 17 mile long sand spit with a state park at one end and vacation homes along the rest of it. Port St Joe lies 20 minutes northwest and Appalachacola 30 minutes east. Everything seems to be either for sale or for rent (in some cases, whichever comes first). It's quiet, especially in March. And it's dog friendly.

Horse friendly too.We saw brown pelicans and dolphins. We spend hours collecting shells and watching the birds. We sat through a spectacular thunderstorm while sipping wine on our deck.
We and Zephyr will be going back there for a month next year.

And the only alligator we saw was this one:

Just what does he see when he looks at me? (Or, men are strange)

On Friday I went to get my hair done. It's been three months since I had highlights and things were beginning to look tired. I'd gotten into the habit of routinely pinning my hair up with a clip, and because it's my hair (fine, but reasonably thick and very slippery) it was always falling out and lying in straggles about my neck. I'm thinking lank, as a word to describe it.

So I went for a shorter style -- nothing too dramatic -- but at least four inches shorter. A different look for sure.

I arrive home and enter the kitchen. Ian turns from his computer, looks at me, and says:

"It looks darker".

Me: "You always say that. I'm not blonde you know."

Ian: "I know you aren't. [He doesn't really. He thinks his daughter is naturally blonde, too.] It just looks darker that's all."

Me: "It will lighten up after a few washes."

The rest of the evening was uneventful.

The next morning we went out for breakfast as we usually do on Saturday (and often on Sunday, and sometimes on Friday too.) We went to our usual spot, and Jeni, the proprieter, took one look at me and said: "You've got your hair cut. I like it!"

Ian looks quizzically at me: "Is it shorter? Oh. I guess it is."

Men.

At least with Zephyr you know she won't notice. You could come home bald and to her you'd be just the same.

January's reading list

OK. It's January. It's grey outside. Winter's got a long way to go.

Here's what I've read to make myself feel better:

The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan. A fascinating exploration into what we eat and why we eat the way we do. Now I feel guilty about everything I put in my mouth, especially anything that had a face and came from a feedlot....

My Stroke of Insight, by Jill Bolte Taylor. A fascinating read about what it's like to have a massive stroke at the age of 37, and the eight years of recovery following. I'm walking around feeling as if my head is made of eggshells and might explode at any minute.

Still Alice, by Lisa Genova. A fascinating novel about a Harvard professor who comes down with early onset Alzheimers. I'm worrying about everything I'm forgetting.







And last but not least, The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. The granddaddy of depressive literature, but so beautifully written I couldn't put it down.

It's a wonder I can get up in the morning...

Actually, all of these books are a great read. I'm not finished Michael Pollan's book yet, but would recommend it, and all of the above.

Now what do you suggest I read next?