Not My Blog
Monday, August 23, 2004
I Survived The Nine: Back from a week away, tending to (yelling at) the various nieces and nephews of Edmonton and Red Deer, and missing my dumb little dog terribly for the greater part of it. However, we were reunited on Friday, and spent two days in my older brother and sister-in-law's house in Red Deer while they were away. The little varmint is house-trained at last, I'm happy to say, although she did her best to terrorize the cats into spontaneous elimination.
I suppose if I'd had children, I would have come to this humbling realization before now, but as a somewhat detached and mad auntie, it took a few days of non-stop kids before the memories of my own childhood iniquities came flooding back. I thought I was such a good fibber as a kid, a miniature Saki, i.e., an extempore confabulator without equal. It turns out the really good liars were the adults who pretended to believe me way back when. For my part, unless the whoppers were outrageous, or clearly intended to get someone in trouble, I tended to ignore the amazing tales spouted by my nieces and nephews.
Sample:Well, it's not quite as unreal as the time I tried to explain away my absence from gym class by saying that I was drumming on the inside of my knee with a butcher's knife (and why wouldn't I be?), and then the knife slipped and that's why I can't run laps, Ms. Joslin, but then this niece is only 10.
Finished "The Last Crossing." Loved and admired it. Read "Clara Callan" at long last, in one day. A good character study, even if the plot was a little operatic. Started "Sock," by my favourite magician--or whatever he'd prefer to call himself, Penn Jillette, and find it compelling and insane so far. Now I just want to call everyone "The Little Fool."
An Olympics junkie like I am should NOT have to put up with the incessant broadcasting of beach volleyball. What, are the networks going after the Spike vote? By the way, bikinis for the women and dancing cheerleaders for the men do not necessarily do anything for the character of the Olympics. Faster, higher, nakeder, eh?
Biggest laugh of the Olympics so far: After watching Svetlana Khorkina's floor routine, Luke announced that she looked like "a poster child for Oxfam being shot out of a cannon." I laughed until I was dizzy from lack of oxygen, as no doubt the wraithlike Khorkina was herself after her routine.
Dog Day Afternoon, the dog swim at the leisure centre in Red Deer was a great hoot yesterday afternoon. I left Piper with Jean's parents, knowing she'd just freak out and not go past her knees, anyway, and Jean and I took her two dogs to the pool. Diesel had a grand time, swimming after tennis balls, but Doc didn't enjoy himself as much. Certainly the Labs of Red Deer were having the time of their lives, barking and splashing and retrieving. The humans were not allowed to swim with their dogs, but could only wade in knee-deep and toss tennis balls out into the centre of the pool. After a Great Dane dropped a massive dog-bomb into the pool, I was just as happy not to be in the water. By the way, it doesn't float, but rather settles horridly to the bottom.
I love Luke and Vinnie La Vin's new house. It is a modest, perfect house on a tree-lined street, with a gorgeous backyard filled with apple and cherry trees. Now to move in with them.
"Goodbye Lenin" was an excellent movie on many levels, and I can't stop thinking about it. I suppose it's an entirely different movie-watching experience for former East Germans. The concept of an East and West Germany seems so weird after 14 years of reunification. Suppose Korea will feel that way, too, one day. If they don't blow everything up real good, that is.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Spotted on the noon walk: A child's rosary, made of faux carnelian beads, hanging from a tree. That'd be The Blair Catholic Project in full swing, then.
Off for a week, starting today, to "go on holiday by mistake," à la Withnail. My beak is slightly out of joint today over the merest of irritants. I phoned to tell the bro and sister-in-law that I'd be dropping Piper off at my pal Jean's farm, to play with the dogs she worships. By this I meant to inform them that Piper would not be part of our jolly week with The Nine, which seemed pretty clear. But I got back a message telling me why it was really better not to have Piper in the mix of kids. Pedantry after the fact. Almost as vexing as being admonished to "Be careful!" when you have just been hurt by accident.
Heat waves do not bring out the best in me, in case no one's noticed.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
I hate falling down! I really hate it. If falling down were a person, I'd kick it in the groin. One moment I'm sauntering along in the morning mist with the hound, the next I'm falling off an ankle and sprawling across the concrete. Actually, I managed a tiny bit of a tuck and roll, just so that I could graze my shoulder, too. Different parts of my frame are swearing at me steadily. And I never just fall down the one time, no: this was the second ankle-flop in three days, which means another one is likely on the way. All part of the magical whimsy of being flat-footed and pigeon-toed.
Brit Girl, I'm trying. I keep forgetting to bring the digital camera into the office. But the pre- and post-schnitz pictures are still there, and I have pledged to post them. Thanks for your kind messages, by the way.
It may just be a mannequin to you, but it's a lethal intruder to me. A departing Karovian has given the company a legacy in the form of a 1970s-era mannequin, which is now in the creative studio. It made me jump out of my skin on the way to get a coffee on Monday morning. And it sent Piper into a flurry of frantic barking, which charmed no one. Remind me never to take her into The Bay.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
This is all it takes: Last Friday I discovered that my phone had no dial tone. Instead of heading to a neighbour's and dialling the phone company, instead of taking the phone cord out of the jack and putting it back in, I instantly assumed that my phone had been cut off. Then I plunged into despair and did not break surface again until late Saturday afternoon. By Monday I felt able enough to call the phone company from the office, inquiring about reconnection. "Well, um. We didn't cut you off, you see," said the pleasant service rep.
Note to stupit, stupit self: Check the phone jacks. Stop assuming the worst.
Thanks, Gaijin, that was a nice start to the week. Keep telling your single friends about my wonderfulness, and together, perhaps, we can end this strange romantic drought.
The upside of Peasant Vision: More books. More weird TV during wakeful spells. I watched a documentary on the ancient Olympic games, and was pleased to see that they used bare-bummed actors to portray the athletes. Except for the wrestlers, who wore breechclouts [cheaters]. Turns out there was as much cheating and favouritism, if not more, in the old days as in current times. Best quote: from Donovan Bailey, Canadian gold medallist sprinter. "Running naked, uh, I don't know. The thigh-slapping could be distracting." Thigh-slapping? The mind whirls.
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