Glad Gaming

Glad Game: When thirsty, how sweet water tastes.

Glad to get the windows washed. Ladders take mindfulness. Top windows take stretch. Both good.

Glad to get the start of order back to the shelves. My desk is another story.

Glad to get a book hand-delivered to me. Funny how you hear someone’s name and picture the face. How rarely the mental image matches.

Glad for the interesting sensation of changing reading material. The shift in density is like switching from highway speed to offramp thru a suburb.

Glad for the sweetness of Hub who goes out for groceries and comes back with that and red roses. Such a sweetie.

Glad to find out the name for grandfather’s seashells…jingle shells and Mitchells Publications has a lovely page on seashells generally with quite a few my guidebook didn’t have.

Glad people go to such effort to make organized categorized places. It takes time and commitment to see things thru, whether that, or web sites organized by the Dewey Decimal System, or the fellow who took a photo a day of himself to make a 16 year time lapse. Lord knows that doing things categorically can be hard, as Ernie demonstrates.

Like the article on apology for example,

Say “I’m sorry I was rude,” not “I’m sorry if I was rude.” Sorry “if” is one of those potentially costly qualifiers that can turn a good apology into a really bad one, so be careful. Words really matter.

That makes sense. The wiggle word if denies or quibbles over or backpedals from the premise that harm was done, just clouding the issue. There’s inquiry into if there’s a problem, or there’s apology; separate steps.

[Oh, and this is unrelated to the spontaneous roses. Just in case you make a false connection. As with the next item I’m just clearing out the list of links I found interesting over the last few weeks.]

Glad to laugh. I haven’t laughed nearly enough for my health but the Monty Python interview nailed the experience of my last job. Dark humor more than carefree but I’ll take it.

And speaking of bad case scenario, worst opening sentence contest got some lulus.

Glad that over the last few months my memory’s been generally improving. When stress is up, I can take a shopping list with me and still be too rattled to track all the way thru and get everything checked off. Now I don’t always bring a physical list and yet don’t forget anything, not even the stick of butter. (Don’t contradict me now. I’m not saying mindfulness is at an all-time high.)

I’m satisfied with the direction – my general response to pressure is better. Before I used to respond with harried question on how how to leap and leap higher, then I used to kneejerk refuse to respond at all, even to things I might have liked to have done but if someone tried to persuade me, story over, flat no, or stew until I cook myself with time overruns. (Flying sheep absurdity.) Now I have more indifference to deflect, pull back, consider.

I’m charting a course to get mindfulness and cardio health on better track.

This story rough around the edges reminded me that you never know what devils someone is fighting. In light of those, more behavior makes sense. There’s more room for compassion remembering that everyone is human, as foible-ful.

Glad to have a day of practical concerns of laundry and groceries and cleaning and errands. A day in the body-space. Maybe even (hold breath) finding what color my desktop is. (Could happen.)

Youtube cat: cat vs printer [via Presurfer]

Quote: “You will soon break the bow if you keep it always stretched.” – Phaedrus

28 Sep 2008, 10:55pm
Ottawa Photos
2 comments

Walkabout

A slow weekend, in the good sense of slow. Time with music, books, each other. Cancel all flights of fancy trips and events and just recharge. There’s no top edge to the universe of Things Going On.

[Since I wrote this Sunday but forgot to post, may as well retroactively put it where it was rather than clutter a long post for Monday….]

An overcast day is a good one for a couple hour walkabout. We took in the Scone Witch on Crichton in New Edinborough.

Scone Witch
I’m so food-centric that it didn’t even occur to me to take a picture of Cathy. (On the other hand, we talked with her but not to the food…so all’s well-ish-balanced.)

scone
The herb and onion scone with feta and tomato was a good as it looked.

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Just a block away from Scone Witch is the estate of the Governor-General. (Who knew?)

Along the perimeter of this fountain, a British family had two little ones (who by turns giggled each other hiccuppy before the wailing and screeching started and receded), and a young mother speaking French with her tween son touring the grounds, a Chinese couple speaking Mandarin with their teenage grandson, a gay couple with their dog, a middle-aged woman with her senior mother.

Remarkably busy for a drizzle-edged day. Behind was a rose garden.

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Some of the roses were still in bloom, some went to the hips. A minute for the sniff, forever (winter) as the hips…

netted drops
A yew hedge caught some drops while behind it two games of cricket were pitching.

The security guard said there are cricket matches each Saturday and Sunday and that it’s a crazy long game. That red team one has been going for 5 hours already, he said.

Guess cricket will continue as long as the weather holds, just like the fancy car outings. There was a Lamborghini Countach in the market. A few people, self included, had to do a circle around that one. Another head-turner was the owner’s parade of these Prowlers.

owners parade

Local Link: Guess the date when the first cm of snow lands in Ottawa and stays, as a fundraiser for Inuit Children’s Center and United Way.

Quote: “The sun will set without thy assistance.” – The Talmud

Warm Thoughts

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It’s quiet as candles around here today. Looking down the street upon waking yesterday there was enough sun to cast reflections from one building to the next and enough fog to soften the redness of the maple turning down the street. Hubby was telecommuting. (Is that the term still in vogue? Working from home for a day…) By afternoon the sun hadn’t flagged.

Today the fog veil has made the hills disappear and the silhouette of city step forward and back according to where the curtain drops. The river is blue haze with smudged banks. The streets are quiet. The blasting of bedrock phase of construction nearby seems to have finally stopped.

Scarlett nominated me for a Wylde Woman Award. What’s that? Wylde Woman seems to branch from Wild Woman like Womyn branched from Woman. A sculptor named Tammy Vitale created the prize “to give to your favorite Wylde Woman blogger.” Schmutzie gets the blogging awards concept – a vehicle for exchanging exponential spread of warm fuzzies.

Here are the 2 rules:
1. You can give it to one or one hundred or any number in between – it’s up to you. Make sure you link to their site in your post.

2. Link back to this blogsite (http://www.TammyVitale.com/) so I can go visit all these wonderful women.

Purpose of the Award: To send love and acknowledgement to women who brighten your day, teach you new things and live their lives fully with generosity and joy.

In no particular order…

  • Deana for her upbeat energies and zestful leaps into the beauties of life,
  • Jilly for keeping the poetry news flowing, siphoning from around the world,
  • Colleen for sharing her quirky quips of photos, look at poet life in Virginia, and the surprising variety of Thursday 13s,
  • Coll for sharing her blessings of family and furry friends, the beauties in the daily,
  • Carolyn for doing 47 vivid words a day of people she’s met,
  • Sue for those steady pockets of posts, each with a question, and occasional updates on Nelson the rat,
  • Thomai for her art and her asserting resistance and self-reliance,
  • Patti for promoting thriving, being alive to the day as if each may be the last,
  • Schmutzie for being rigorously honest and articulate with her past and present,
  • Diana for writing from her daily life of small town, family cares and reads,
  • Amanda for her passion and fire (even tho’ being put on a woman’s only list is anathema to her),
  • Sharon for her chronicling an I-Love-You World,
  • Jewaira for her stories from Kuwait and London,
  • Jem who parcels in haiga discrete pause moments.

As when I do any meme, it’s open to grab onto the baton or touch and let go…

Life in Ottawa Snapshot: As my accidental good deed of day before yesterday, I helped a woman find her bliss outfit. She was at the cash register of the used clothing store getting yoga pants pants for rock climbing. I was with my back to her looking at a blouse with tapered torso, lace insets, mao collar, fine-pleated front with tie backs and button up back. She sensed someone behind her and looked back and saw the blouse and immediately said, if you’re not getting that, I want to try it on. I passed it to her and it fit her like she was tailored into it. She exclaimed over how she’d never owned anything like this, or seen anything like this. She did twirls before the mirror and the clerks and I oohed over it.

So much clothes selling for clerks is blasé not so gratifying. She looked like a little girl thrilled to be grown up enough to take tea with aunties.

Clothing Links: Sourcing for pattern to sew various asian traditional clothes as well as 30s glamour girl to french cheesemakers smock at folkswear. [via Modest Clothes which also sources Amish boots and ways to tie a hijab]

Poetry Link: Lorine Neidecker on Cid Corman

Quote: “We best avoid wars by taking even physical action to stop small ones.” – Sir Anthony Eden

Speaking Up for the Arts

rob mclennan’s Open Letter to the Prime Minister is in response to the P.M. dismissing culture as being not a priority for Canadians. (Dear me, I think Mr. Harper just undid the good PR karma of his fuzzy sweaters and kitten-hugging.)

The vision of cutting financial support for artists, film, for cutting music and arts matches short-sighted spirit of going against safe injection sites and towards criminalization of youth instead of redirecting from harm.

I understand that there’s only so much money in the kitty (no, no that kitty.) It’s human nature to draw in ranks when there’s a potential threat; we are in a position of risk of economic downturn, perhaps to be caught in the riptide of our biggest trade partner. It’s shrewd to be ready to tighten the belt. But, one is best to do so with a long vision of cultivating at the same time. You don’t want to abandon key items outside your conservative gates in the haste.

There was a culture rally yesterday to point out that some vocal voting people do care about arts being a priority. As Christian Nevell Bovee remarked, “Music is the fourth great material want, first food, then clothes, then shelter, then music.”

The nation is not comprised solely of its military posture and mining, nor science R&D, but the attitudes that pass around as currency. What is valued? “Voltaire’s phrasing suits of “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

Youtube for Arts Funding: a satirization/dramatization of funding panel

The individuals can handle being arbiters of what they consume. Hopefully we’ll watch the flyers of who may be the next MP and keep in contact with MP. [Member of Parliament Lookup. Officials act on what they know and if they do not register that it is in common interest to promote that which does not always have immediate payback, we have to point to the wider picture.

If one becomes an accountant or IT worker, the cash loop is short between work and dollar-impact. How arts impact is often less direct. It is rather like the ripple effect of mortgage issue spreading from decisions in individual households to banker lives to how much dicretionary spending get filtered down to the pockets of waiters and cabbies. It’s all interconnected. We’re all interconnected.

To say that one needn’t fund arts is like saying children are more useful to society by yielding benefits immediately in a factory rather than look at longer term benefits of education, diversifying life expressions.

The Conference Board of Canada had an International Forum on Creative Economy in May 08. (You can register and see the video results of the forum for free.) It includes speaker David Thorsby explaining how cultural industries interconnect with other industries.

Basically, he points out the core arts diffuse thru the economy, whether the ideas percolating and catching, or the economic ripple of people who relate to the industries. The dollars move up thru direct sales but also spread in broadcast, advertizing, design, products. Ideas dialogue with ideas. For the material impact from an economic point of view, Glen Hodgson’s presentation in the e-library goes into the hard figures. $46 billion for 2007 directly, plus what the industry buys for service and support from other industry and then the money spent by those involved spending from what they made.

Link: Department of Culture has an online rally about how to swing the vote rather than divide it so conservatives still win. (Although they also smear the leader rather than address the attitude the percs down to level and act of citizen.)

Quotes: “I believe, my dear colleague, that you yourself have just planted the grain of sand that could derail the entire machine of your electoral campaign. Culture is, in fact, nothing but a grain of sand, but therein lays its power, in its silent front.” – Wajdi Mouwad, in open letter from the NAC artistic director.

23 Sep 2008, 2:58pm
General
5 comments

Apple Picking Time

It’s apple picking time. We went to Mountain Orchards on the weekend. It’s a pick your own place, or you can swing by and get pre-picked bags, or cider or fresh donuts and candied apples, or hundreds of cuts of wood trim from the other business they have. There’s also a branch of the local library’s used book sale housed there.

pick your own apples
They give you a choice of two bag sizes and have a flat rate for however much you want to fill them with. As a lady we were with fretted over the choice, he assured her, it doesn’t matter. You pay for the experience, not the apples.

wagon ride
On weekends a wagon takes you back to the groves with 6 varieties of apples. Weekdays, as I understand, is just a short walk back to the trees. The turnover rate was amazing. There would be a dozen or so waiting for the wagon-ride pickup and it would appear and dozens would materialize (popping out the straw I guess).

apple picking, Mountain
The trees were loaded for bear. The picking season goes until mid to late October. Apparently proper picking you cup the apple and tilt up towards the tree crown. I had plucked wild apples by pulling. They detach nicer to the tree with that roll.

Farm dogs and picker’s dogs ran circles with kids who got distracted from the picking. Or were only there for the tractor. (Tractors are extremely exciting, apparently.) There is also a straw pile in a barn for kids to jump in, and swing sets and trees to swing from, and a corn maze like Saunders Farm has too.

Did I ever run with wide-mouthed, wide-eyed joy as those 5 kids swarming at the wriggling puppy who took it all in good wriggle?

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Kids scaled the nearest tree.

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There’s a face up in that tree. Why, it’s Hub.

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I kept my feet on the ground to pick, although more toddled about looking at pictures more than the fruit. We’ve never picked apples before. When I was small my parents and I went to collect windfalls, although as I recall, that also involved me getting absorbed in some pretty leaf or color.

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This variety has a powder coat like a blueberry.

Next I’ll need to settle on some recipes. Curried with squash worked…2 apples down, 50 or 60 to go…

Quote: “We are born believing. A man bears beliefs as a tree bears apples.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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