Who do you love…

November 27, 2009 at 11:59 PM (books and writers, notes and thoughts)

Todd.  Emma.  Meghan.  Sarah.  Rose.  Dennis.  Monica.  Bailey.  Eileen.  Sasha.  Cherry.  North.  Grethe.  Peter.  Simon.  Nina.  Derek.  Stacy…there are more, but my point is there are many people and animals that I love, however there is only one person in particular that I write this blog for, and that would be my sister.  She is the one that told me (bossy thing, she is) to start one, and she is the one I always have in mind as I write.  This entire blog has been a long, drawn out letter to my sister.   And she no longer seems to post her witty commentary anywhere.   Hmmm, this seems a bit unfair.  Sister dear, I’ve thrown down the gauntlet.  Write!!  You are so bloody good at it!!!  Do you remember that poem that we both wrote?  Not together, but we both had written the same poem, (how weird),  unless one of us was a thief, even by accident.  I’ve done my silly writings for years,….your turn.  Get cracking!!

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168…

January 4, 2009 at 5:37 PM (books and writers, notes and thoughts)

  • That is the number of posts I have written on this little blog o’ mine.  If the average post word count is around 100, that would be 165 000 words.  That is more than enough to constitute a  novel aka a book.  So why am I not writing a novel?  That is my question to myself.

When I was thirteen or so, I spent an entire summer out at our family camp – a real camp, complete with outhouse, no running water, or electricity – penning a story ala Enid Blyton.  Complete with three sets of twins (what can I say?  I was 13, people!)  I wrote it by hand, in a binder, which has long since been lost, unfortunately.  It would be interesting to read what my thirteen year self was writing.  And I’d like to know just where did that diligent little author go?  If she only took two months to write a book, what on earth is stopping me?  It’s not as if I have high hopes, penning a Harlequin would be just fine.  Or finishing anything literary that I have started.  Things that make you go ‘hmmmm’.

I have mentionned before that I am a book worm.  I used to think I would be a writer when I grew up.  I used to write.  A lot.  I still have diaries full of ridiculous teenage angst, essays that I’m sure were brilliant at the time, and dozens of notebooks with half started stories.  So what stopped me?  Or what is stopping me?  And if I can post so much dribble on a blog, why can’t I write a bloody manuscript?  (Manuscript does not equal book, but at least does equal completion! – even if it is shite!)

PS.  Whitey has been sleeping on a old baby blanket, cosy and warm, under my bed most cold nights.  Poor baby.  In the middle of the night, he’ll try to crawl up next to me, he has done so before on cold nights when he has been allowed to stay, despite Todd’s better judgement.  (Have I mentionned that my dearest better half  (in case he reads this) is a softie?  Just in case I’ve left the impression that he would be unkind to an animal, well, he really wouldn’t.  He just doesn’t want to be overrun by cats, particularly seeing as he is allergic to them.)  And I do have several cat house/waterproof organization box thingies outside, stuffed with hay, so that the cats can find a semi warm place to sleep.  His eye looks better, although not %100.

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My new favorite sweater…and Kurt Vonnegut…again

September 23, 2007 at 2:29 AM (authors, books and writers, notes and thoughts)

I’m not sure where to start this post. I wanted to write on Thursday, but it was a crazy day. Started out great, ended up actually still great, just some trying moments in between.

Thursday is my me day. Meg goes to Jacob’s, so I went shopping. When I go shopping, it ain’t Neiman Marcus, or even Reitman’s. It’s the ONS, the Sally Ann, or the V.V. boutique. I love thrift shopping. And when I come home with a few t-shirts (that I really, really like as opposed to some that are almost okay, but just not quite right) and a couple pair of pants, and a new fabulous sweater, then I am one happy camper! And this sweater is absolutely THE sweater I have been looking for. It is long, greenish/brown earthy color, cardigan type with no buttons, what can I say? It is probably so out of style, but I love it. So that’s my sweater. And I paid a whopping $17.00 for all my ‘new’ clothes. So I was ripping home in my ‘van, singing with the radio, feeling good about just about everything.

Picked up Emma from school, and she rode her bike over to Jacob’s (his older sister, Zoe, goes to school with Emma, they are also good friends), so I had another hour to myself! Yes!!

Todd called from work, his car is acting up again. Don’t we have an old battery, maybe you could bring it? Kids come home, fart around, drive to meet Todd, battery doesn’t fit, he’ll try to drive the Sable home. Turning a corner, half way home, the ‘van dies. Just katplut. Oh oh. Just get worse from there. Tow truck will take hours, Todd says : Try to make it home in the Sable. Half way again, the Sable dies on me. It’s 8:30pm by this point. I’m on the long stretch towards home, right after the Champlain bridge, busy but dark road with no houses anywhere near and my two little girls in the car. I am also one of those rarities who have neither a cell phone nor a credit card. Long story short, a good Samaritan stopped to help. Called a tow truck for me, actually paid for the tow truck (I had a whopping $15.00 left in my pocket, and tow trucks do not take checks.) I am so thankful to this very kind man, who helped. He wouldn’t even let me write him a check for the money. We eventually made it home, girls ate and were asleep by 10pm. It was a very trying, tiring night, but things ended okay. You don’t realize how stressful something so simple can be until you are responsible for trying to get two little girls home safely. I was near tears sitting at Lucerne Blvd, wondering how the hell am I going to do this, not knowing where Todd was and knowing he wouldn’t be able to help, seeing as he was waiting for his own tow truck. The pure relief at coming home, making it safely, was stupefying. I never would have been so worried had it just been me.

And I think I am going to get a cell phone. Or at least a credit card. So anyway, that was my Thursday.

Friday, I finished ‘Garp’, and started on Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Fates Worse Than Death’. It’s kind of a meandering conversation with an old friend. Fits autumn and my new sweater. And I couldn’t find ‘A Prayer For Owen Meany’, which was next on my list till I found K.V. Todd has toooooo many books, many more than I do, and I used to think I had a lot. So the bookshelves are overflowing, making it almost impossible to find the one you’re looking for. The good thing is that while you are looking, you usually come across something that sounds almost as interesting as the book you were looking for. Hence, K.V. And I’ll admit, I do read a lot of candy, so I don’t keep those ones. Once I’m done, out it goes. Todd doesn’t consider any of his books ‘candy’. So he keeps them all.

Well, that’s the update for now.frttttttttttttttttttttttt[p;p(this is Cherry’s little note. Not sure what it means, but she wanted to pass on the message!!)

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Winter is coming….

September 17, 2007 at 11:47 PM (books and writers)

The nights are getting colder, the leaves are starting to turn, you can tell the season has changed, almost overnight.  God, that makes me so sad!  It means winter is coming!  I recently finished a series by George R.R. Martin, where the motto of this one family is “Winter is coming”.  So now every time I say it, or think it, I think of the Starks (the family).  But it is coming.

Things on the homefront are fine.  I realize maybe I shouldn’t be so personal on the world wide web, but hell, this is my blog, it kind of replaces any journals that I used to keep, and I’m not being overly personal.  And once in a while, I need to go boohoo, woe is me.  That’s just me.  So we had a fight, kissed and made up, and things are okay, as far as I know.  The seasonal change always seems to affect me, depress me, and just make things difficult.  Plus I’m getting a bloody cold!!  Yay, school!   Ah, well, I’m embarking on a new novel.  Rereading, actually. ‘The World According To Garp’ by John Irving.  I’ve meaning to reread many of his books, and so now I am starting.  I’ve always loved ‘A Prayer For Owen Meany’,  but for some strange reason, I have not been able to reread it in years.  I’ll work my way up to it.  Fall seems to be my reading time.  I’d love to find some new authors, new books, worthy of keeping on my shelves for years to come.

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Re-reading your childhood…

September 12, 2007 at 10:59 PM (authors)

For those that know me, you will know that I was your stereotypical geeky child. I had glasses from the age of 6 or 7. I had a huge gap between my two front teeth (which a retainer failed to correct and only added to my geekieness). I was really quite intelligient (i.e. went to the gifted program once a week). I played the violin. And I read voraciously. Pretty much added up to being a total geek, particularly in grade school. I’ll tell you about my about-face during high school some other time. Let’s just say grade school sucked. I was the only girl with glasses. The only girl who got called four eyes. And the only person who ever got into trouble for reading during class. I had to kick the biggest bully in the nuts in grade six, just so I would be something other than ‘four eyes’. (Sorry Moose.) I played floor hockey like it was tackle hockey. I had to pretend to be a real toughy, slapped a girl who insulted my mom (sorry Anna), because somehow, I just didn’t fit in. So I could be a geek, or I could try to be tough (and a geek). Either way, I don’t think I really enjoyed grade school very much. But at least I had a place where I could escape. My books.

I learnt to read when I was about 4 or so. Thank you Dr. Seuss. After that, the world was my oyster. I could disappear anytime I wanted to and into any world. Judy Blume, Beverly Clearly, Paula Danzigger, those were some of the popular authors for young girls, during my adolescence. I also loved some of the classic children’s authors, Enid Blyton and E. Nesbith, in particular. The Black Stallion series, by Walter Farley, was another favorite. So many books, so many authors, they gave me so much. A retreat from the real world, somewhere fun to go when things were tough, as they so often are as a child. I think people forget that childhood isn’t as fun as you remember. There are many painful memories, things that don’t go away, that live within your adult you forever. That feeling of being a bucked toothed, four eyed geek still stays with me even though I’ve gone through many other stages of life by now, including what I call my swan stage, during high school and univesity. But I have digressed…

I meant to write about Gordon Korman. Thanks to a reminder from Sarah, I’ve been re-reading all of his books that I still have in my collection. He still makes me laugh out loud and I’m 36. The books I have are written for a much younger audience. Tells you something about this writer. He is/was Canadian, he is so goddamn funny, and his books are a simple joy to read. I can’t name another author I would like to be stuck with more on an island, provided he would continue writing for my enjoyment (except for perhaps Margaret Atwood, but I fear she would find me exceedingly dull. I think Gordon and I would have a rip-roaring good time. Maggie is too smart for me.) So go find a book by this author, especially one of his earlier children/young adult books, and prepare to laugh. You might even pee your pants!!!

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Kurt Vonnegut – I Salute You

April 12, 2007 at 12:31 PM (authors, books and writers)

This has absolutely nothing to do with gardening, and everything to do with an absolutely fantastic writer, with a wicked sense of humor and a wonderful eye for all of humanities many failings and faults.

He died on Wedneday, at the age of 84.

I was introduced to his writings when I was 17. I had never read anything like that before, (so much for my educational institutions) and was completely floored. I’m not saying that I ‘got it’ right away, but I did read everything else I could find that he had written. Turned out my dad had most of his books, which I promptly stole. I still have them in my personal library.

So much of his writing is relevant, I think even more so today. If you’ve read his stuff and loved it as I do, then you’ll understand why I feel a little teary today. If you’ve never read Vonnegut, I would urge you to seek out some of his novels, put your feet up with a nice pot of tea or a bottle of wine, and spend some quiet time listening to what he has to say. You won’t regret it.

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