Shiny Candy Girl of Canada

Someone on a list I belong to wrote a message this morning about blogs. She says that if you throw the words 'shiny', 'candy' and 'girl' into a blog together with the name of a country other than the US, your hit count is going to go up, up, up. So I'll give it till the end of the week and then check my web stats.

Onward, Forward

CEL (CopyEditor's List) has a thread today concerning the misspelling of 'forward' when used to mean that section of a book that comes at the front and provides background or other elucidation to the book itself. I was reading along and guffawing at the thought of all those authors out there who self-publish their memoires or histories of their communities and churches and then misspell Foreword. Teehee.

I sobered up when I realized I didn't know whether the book I'd self-published (a biography of my first husband) contained a Foreword. I rushed to get the box that contains the remaining few copies and, with a good healthy fear of what I might find, begin to leaf through the first few pages.

There's a dedication page ("To Marcus") followed by a Preface. And Glory be, there's no foreword. What a relief. I know the difference between 'forward' and 'foreword' but my fingers don't always obey the inclination of the brain and since the mistake would survive a spell-check, I've been unpleasantly surprised before by errors that creep through to the final draft.

I would have caught it in the final copyedit/proofread. But of course I would. Mon dieu, oui! Don't be absurd.

What's on my mind. Not Georgia!

Well, maybe Georgia would be a good thing to think about today. It's certainly warmer there than here. -40C. Am driving the kids to university today and I don't do that just for something to do.

I read recently that our city has been inundated by a great influx of owls from the north - Great Northern Owl? I forget the species - since their food supply - mice and voles - is scarce in their natural habitat. They are apparently very weak from the long flight on little food. I have to wonder how they are faring here. I haven't seen a mouse in a long time (except in our garage) and I can't imagine that the food supply is much better here than where the owls came from, especially today. Nothing is moving out there that doesn't have to. I was wondering how the junkos and the cardinals and black-cap chickadees are making out. They live in our hedge and eat from our feeder. I hope the owls don't make a meal of them. If I thought it would help, I'd go buy some meat at the store and scatter it about for the owls. Wonder if they would eat it. Perhaps they prefer their dinner warm and running.

Out of the mouths...

I was reading some of my poems to a friend the other day, over the phone. After about line 6 or so, she interrupted me and said, "That's not a poem. That's a painting."

I'm still not sure if she meant what she said as a criticism or a compliment because I know she doesn't read a lot of contemporary poetry. However, she couldn't have said anything nicer to me. I told her so. I haven't stopped smiling since.

I try to remember this whenever I get nervous about having submitted eleven of my poems to a battery of editors in preparation for a chapbook that is supposed to come out in September. They have not yet make any comments (not even sure if they've read them). However, I can't help feeling like I've stripped and am standing in the middle of a busy street, waiting for people to notice and start pointing and jeering. Because I haven't had any feedback yet, I can't help wonder if the poor editors are at their keyboards, fingers poised over the keys, wondering how they can begin to tell me how awful my stuff is. But I have to keep remembering what my friend said.

Funny thing though. My friend keeps asking me to write a poem about her or our friendship. Now I can truly say, in response, that she has to let me paint a picture.

The day after

I had a birthday recently. And despite my reluctance to 'be' the age I am, it really is okay. It was not the most feted birthday I've ever had. It was certainly not the most lucrative. But it was very satisfying. I had a lovely birthday card from my step-son. The kind that brings tears to the eyes, the sentiments were so sweet, and I believe, heart-felt. He picked it out himself and so I know that's what he wanted to say. I also had a nice card from my step-daughter, a very cute card from my son's girlfriend, an orchid and a card from my husband with a message that also brought tears to my eyes. Telephone calls from everyone else. In fact, I heard from everyone who matters to me.

Last night, I was thinking exactly this and then realized, wait a minute. I didn't hear from mom. This thought lasted about a 1/2 a second when I realized, of course, that my mom's been dead for 23 years. Funny how stuff like that happens.

My mother-in-law phoned to wish me a happy birthday and was unsure what the exact age was. When she finally figured it out (with a few Uh-uh's and Uh-huh's on my part, she said, "What? You're not that old, are you?" Thanks, MIL.

Inaugural Entry about Inaugural Balls

My first entry of 2005 concenrns balls. Inaugural Balls, to be exact. George Bush's inaugural ball to be specific. It appears that he is about to spent 40 million US dollars (and we all know that a US dollar is bigger than any other dollar -is it minted in Texas?) on his inaugural ball on January 20th.

This is obscene when over 150 thousand people just perished in a tsunami and the survivors will need help for years to come to continue surviving. We're not even talking about bringing their standard of living up to that of George Bush. Simply just putting a roof over their heads again, giving them one square meal a day, with a job to go to and schools to educate their children will take billions of dollars. It baffles me how the leader of the free [cough] world can dance the night away with ladies in designer gowns while so many suffer not even half a world away.

A colleague of mine (I flatter myself by calling her this) has drawn up a petition to the president and was hoping to get it on ThePetitionSite.com but alas, they have failed to approve the petition as yet. So... I direct you to the text of her petition at:

http://editor-mom.blogspot.com/2005/01/urgent-petition-to-urge-bush-to-pare.html

Go and pick up the text, print it out and send it to anyone you know who might make a difference. I figure nobody in Washington even knows were Canada is much less cares what a Canadian thinks, so I'm not going to waste my time in sending it. But if you're US-based and reading this, then what are you waiting for. Get out of here and go stand up for the have-nots of the world against the haves. If enough people bring this up, maybe, just maybe, the man will be shamed into at least scaling back his festivities.

Post-Christmas, post-tsunami, pre-everything-else.

What a way to end a really enjoyable Christmas! To find out that great hordes of people were swept away from their beach vacations, from their breakfasts and from their lives. I was driving my step-daughters to the mall and asked them if they had heard the news about the tsunami that hit Asia. They had not and I told them that the radio was reporting deaths in the thousands. They mumbled something about how awful it was and we left it at that.

By the time I went back to pick them up (don't ask, and I won't tell you) I reported to them that deaths were now known to be at least eleven thousand. One of the girls said, "That's not too bad. I figured it would be much worse."
Now, on what scale is eleven thousand people dying not bad? I don't understand this girl. Not sure I want to right now.

Christmas was probably the best I've had since my husband and I creaated this blended family of ours. Our kids seemed to genuinely like each other's company, or at least made a good show of getting along. There was a lot of laughter, more than we've ever enjoyed together, and when my son and his girlfriend left, the step-siblings exchanged hugs. That's a first. It made me feel good.

Also, my husband's sister and her boyfriend joined us for part of the afternoon and for dinner. She has not been friendly with my husband since their mother had a stroke in 2000. We're still not sure what happened way back then but ever since mother-in-law has been the go-between and it was time for that to end. I told hubby that we needed to invite his sister to dinner and he agreed. We phoned her and surprise, surprise, she also agreed. So, the family was all together at last. Mother-in-law phoned me several times since Christmas to thank me for arranging this. She was very grateful.

Now, the best part of Christmas was seeing a whole new side to my son. I had received a Dean Martin CD for Christmas (as per my request) which contained the song Amore. (I just love how smooth Dino is on this song!) When Marcus saw the CD, he got very excited about another song that I was not familiar with. He put it on and began dancing around and singing every last word of the lyrics. I was open-mouthed and absolutely delighted. I had no idea that he even knew who Dean Martin was (son is 31) much less that he would like any of his songs. And to have him say that A Kick in the Head was a totally awesome tune just knocked my socks off. I'm still tickled about it and it makes me smile every time I think of it.

All in all it was a very good Christmas despite my stress levels going into it. We have cut down the gift-giving to acceptable levels and the best gift I got was from my husband (via Paddington, a sculpted polar bear who gives gifts at Christmas) - a $100 donation to the Humane Society. It made me cry, just like the other years that he has done the same thing. But that's okay.

I wish I could give the feelings I have to everyone who is sad or alone. I have lots to spare and I know that for every bit I'd give away, I'd just get more to put in its place.

Now we have to get ready to go to mother-in-law's retirement residence for lunch - en famille. It's her way of giving back at Christmas now that she can't bake cookies or shop till she drops.

Bummed again!

I'm bummed again. In fact, I'm doubly bummed.

I'm bummed because my son is bummed. He's bummed because his life has taken a sharp turn that he wasn't ready for and he's sad and upset and angry and frustrated and probably fearful and, did I mention sad? I'm sad because I can't do a damn thing to help him except be here in case he needs me for something, anything.

He didn't come to Thanksgiving dinner today because the wounds are still very fresh and he'd rather be alone. I understand that fully. But I've decided to call him at least once a day until I feel he's getting back on his feet. I've called twice today and he's not answering the phone. Maybe he's out with friends. I can only hope so.

Anyway, it sucks to have someone you love feeling like they're in the deep, dark woods at midnight without a flashlight. I want to put my arms around the whole forest and keep all the baddies out so he'll be safe no matter where in the forest he is. I want to put little candles on every path so if he happens by he'll know there's a way out if he wants it. I want.. I want... I want him not to be sad anymore.

So I'm bummed.

Yesterday I saw a man wearing a jacket which had the letters B.U.M. on the back. Big letters. On a big back. Just above a big bum.

Today I got dressed and reached into my closet and pulled out a sweatshirt I have not worn much, if ever, since getting it for Christmas a few years ago from my sister-in-law.

Nearly fainted when I looked in the mirror on my way out of the bedroom. Emblazoned right above my heart is the phrase

B U M Equipment

Do you think this sweatshirt was intended for cardiac patients?
Whatever. I decided to keep it on. I feel like bum equipment today.

Loyalty, teenagers and feeling grumpy

I'm grumpy. I shouldn't be but I am. I should be able to let this roll off my back and say, "Not my problem." I can't.

A member of my family (who shall remain nameless to protect whatever innocence he may still have) is being a dork and a disloyal dork at that. I have failed miserably at making him understand what I see as disloyalty. Thus my grumpiness. I don't like to know that someone I have to deal with on a daily, familial basis, is behaving in such a manner and is unable to see it.

Let me tell you the story for the purposes of which I shall use the initial J. to refer to my family member, and A,B,C. to refer to others in the story. (And no, J is not his first initial).

Okay, so J. has a group of friends that have hung around together for at least the last two years. The group grew larger bit by bit over the last four years. One of the friends in this group, A., has known J. for at least six, perhaps seven, years.

One of the members of the group, B. has turned out to be rather obnoxious, whinging when the group does not go along with his ideas, sulking and generally being tedious. Through it all, the group has put up with his childish behaviour and never shunned him. Heaven knows why.

Somewhere along the line, B. developed a dislike for A. to the point where B would not invite A when the group was meeting at B's house. Would deliberately not invite A to various activities to which the rest of the group was invited - camping trips organized by B's parents, trips to chocolate factories organized by B's father, overnight parties at B's house, etc. He knows that J and A have been friends for much longer than he and J.

You might be asking, "So what? B has a right to invite whomever he wishes to his home."

And you'd be right. I really don't give a rat's ass whom B sees or doesn't see. What I do care about is how J is treating A. Whever B invites J, he goes. Never sticks up for A and says, "if A isn't invited, then I'm not coming." I can't believe he would do something like this. When I confronted him about it, he says that B has the right to invite whom he likes and that he, J, has to right to do things without A.

I counter with "But it's not that simple. You're not just doing something with B. You're doing it despite the fact that B has shunned A. And you haven't showed any loyalty for your friend A."

I can't believe that he could do something this insensitive. He seems not to believe that he would feel shunned if he were in A's shoes.

A still sees J as a friend, comes over whenever J asks him to, etc. Doesn't seem to see it as a problem, or if he does, he's not saying.

I still think that J is behaving very badly and if a friend of mine did that to me, I'd probably not be friends with him or her very long. I certainly wouldn't value the friendship much.

Perhaps I'm wrong about this. If you think I am, let me know.

Meanwhile, I'm still grumpy. Although, on second thought, maybe I'm grumpy because my skills at convincing someone that I'm right seem to have disappeared like summer in the Arctic. I know one of the reasons I'm grumpy is because I'm letting this get to me.

But I see it as a matter of principle. I have a hard time respecting someone who would do something like this, whether or not the supposed 'victim' of the piece doesn't seem to mind.

Of Groundhogs, cataracts and other sh*t

Today has been the pits. I found out that our city council and their minions have been killing groundhogs at a park that I used to enjoy visiting. I don't know why.

And I found out that I have a cataract starting in each eye. Now if that isn't a topper for the day, I don't know what is. I'm only 55 for crying out loud. My mother-in-law just had her cataracts operated on and she's 78. I asked the doc how long from now she thinks I'll need to have something done about mine. She said, 'Are you trying to get me to look into the future?' Well, er, yes. How about just a ballpark, doc? Oh, 10 to 15 years. Heck. I'll be 65 in 10 years and that's way young to have cataract surgery. Ain't it?

John said to make sure I told her that I'm going deaf in my right ear. This may have something to do with the fact that the other day when I was watching tennis on TV, I realized that the court looked deep marine blue if I used my left eye, and mauve if I used my right. I told John that ears and eyes are not connected. He said to make sure to tell the doc anyway. I told the doc and unfortunately she was interested. Wants me to come back in a month.

Ugh.

But it was the news about the groundhogs that really has me bummed out. The city councillor who revealed this news to a friend of mind seems to think that the groundhogs were a victim of their own success, as is the park in general. People had started feeding the critters who were adapting just nicely, thank you, to having their groceries brought to them instead of having to forage. They would eat out of your hand if you were brave enough. I never did get up the nerve. I'm also not sure how I feel about feeding them. They could probably get enough food on their own and didn't need human intervention. But, there weren't that many groundhogs and it's not like they were telephoning their friends and telling them to come on over, there was free food enough for all. They did have babies this summer and that's as nature intended. What I do know for sure is that nature did not intend for them to be killed as they were.

Two species can interact in various ways. Sometimes it's disastrous for both. Sometimes for one of the two. Sometimes it benefits both and I have a feeling this was one of those times. The groundhogs were happy but still wild enough, I think, that had the food source dried up, they would have been able to feed themselves.

I'm rambling. I know. I know. But it really is beyond me why someone at City Hall thought these animals should die. Their homes were creating hazards for the patrons of the park, they say. Park visitors were in danger of being bitten, they say.

What about the garbage and litter these patrons leave behind them in the park? What about the danger of being run over by rude boys on bicycles and skateboards? There are children poisoning geese and chasing ducks until they die of exhaustion.

I am not feeling very well disposed to Ottawa just at the moment - not to the ones who call themselves city leaders, nor to those who destroy the parks and its wildlife.

Ugh. This is very disorganized and rambling. I'll have to come back and do it all over again. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps the next day. Perhaps not at all. It doesn't really matter anyway, does it? I mean, people are still going to go on hurting each other and animals whether I like it or not, no matter how many letters I write to city hall. No matter how loud I scream. The human species is going drag us all down.

I get the bloggiest feelings sometimes...

I have a blog. Wow. I've been hearing about these things for a while now, not really knowing what they are but suspecting that they were something that I'd get off on. I made some half-hearted attempts to scout out a blog, see what it's made of, see whether it would fit into my clothes with me. And while I still am not really sure what a blog is, I know what I want it to be. And this is it.

It's a place I can come to write - about anything and everything, without censure or praise. A place to unload all the sh*t that collects under one's skin during a day. You know, the stuff that makes you gripe and groan, makes you feel helpless and out of control. The stuff that, if only you could tell someone how you feel, would go away and would maybe even get resolved. I mean, if you tell someone about a problem and what you think needs to be done to fix it, you never know what might happen. They might agree with you. They might go immediately to the source of the problem and apply your solution. It would then never bother you again.

Or they might know somebody who could effect some change. Just a whisper in their ear and voila, all is well. Worst case (or maybe best, I'm not sure) scenario is that what you feel is commonly felt by everyone in your community, province, country, hemisphere, planet. You realize that this is a problem that everyone else is putting up with so why the heck can't you. Or (and this is where the best case comes in) you find out that you are the first one to give voice to this particular problem, to isolate it from the garbage that normally disguises it. It is you that the world looks to and applauds when you tell them how easy it would be to dispose of this problem once and for all. And the crowd goes wild. [roaring in the background - or is that the tinnitis in my ear?]

Anyway, to get back to what I was saying, I intend to use my blog for good not for evil. Of course, most of the good will come to me, just by getting rid of whatever itch it was that needed scratching. Those around me might benefit, too, I suppose, if I'm easier to live with.

So... if you're still reading, come back sometime and see what else is in here. Maybe you'll have that Archimedes reaction (Aha!) when you read something here that you previously thought you alone thought. There are at least two thoughts there to start with and that's sufficient for one day.