Me, me, me

A first

Today I'm at work, for the first time since I had my baby.

It's an emotional thing, being away from my new love for a whole day, but apparently she is doing better than I am. She is happy and didn't even cry when she awoke from her morning nap to find the babysitter there instead of mommy dearest.

It' s weird being back here; kind of like a time warp effect, where I've been away for a long time and I come back and it's like I just left. Except that everywhere I turn there's someone saying "Rebecca! You're here! How are you!" It's kinda fun.

They're also saying I look great, which is good for the ol' ego. But people lie.

Oh, and obviously I'm working hard.

Hmmm...

This morning when we got up, we saw that there were two dead squirrels lying on our driveway (one a baby having his eyes pecked out by a gigantic crow. Nice.). When I finally screwed up the courage to go out with a spade and a garbage bag to dispose of them, my next-door neighbour came out and told me there was another dead adult in his back yard. (He got rid of all three, after he saw what a 'fraidy-cat I was. Embarrassing, but better than having to do it myself.)

What do you think killed them? They didn't seem to have been injured in any way, and a witness saw one of them in the stages of dying, saying it was staggering around. My theory is a poisonous plant that has recently bloomed. Any other theories out there, or reports of similar occurences in the city?

Change is Good II


Hey, blog friends, I have a favour to ask of you.

Y'see, I've decided to try to sell my services as a writer, targeting the web-site-design market. In other words, if someone is (re-)designing their site, I will write the content for them in grammatically-correct and marketing-savvy form. As I'm sure you've noticed, most of the writing for web sites is pure shite.

I have just finished a contract doing just that type of work, and enjoyed the experience very much. I got very positive feedback and the re-writing of the content will make a big difference to the client, I'm sure.

I think this could be a good niche for me as a freelancer, but I'm not sure how to sell my services, and to whom. Any suggestions, ideas and/or contacts would be appreciated. I know that many of my legion of readers will have good ideas about this.

Think of it as a brainstorming session among knowledgeable friends. E-mail me or comment here on the blog, or hey, gimme a call if you know my number! I'd love to hear from you.

Let's hear it for the girl A girl-moment that made me chuckle when I overheard it:

My nephew has come to spend the weekend with us. He's 12, and both of my kids love him like crazy, and my son thinks he is the best thing since peanut butter. Nephew brought over a bag of his old action figures as a gift to my kids, so they emptied it out on to the floor and divided them up and started playing. (This was in the kids' room, and I was out on the landing sitting at the computer) So they're playing with some action figures, and I hear my daughter (who's 7) saying:

"I'm making a hideout for them, 'cuz at the end of the day, they like to come home to their hideout and talk about what they did today and the bad guys they killed and stuff."

Hee!

Cement shoes for Gomery?

Okay, I haven't seen or heard this mentioned in any of the mainstream media, so I'm wondering: Am I the only person who thinks that the Liberal party in Quebec appears (judging from testimony at the Gomery commision) to be run by the Mafia?

I don't think I'm being racist when I assume that ex-cabinet minister and ambassador Alfonso Gagliano has ties to the Mafia. It's not (just) because he's Italian; it's because he's obviously a crook who had the governing party in his back pocket. And now we've heard that a bunch of other guys with Italian-sounding names were described as being the "real bosses" of the party. WTF?

What I want to know is, when and how did Chretien and Co. lose control of their party and hand it over to these guys, and in exchange for what? I think the advertising contracts are only the tip of the iceberg: Let's look at all the construction and development contracts handed out by Chretien and his cronies.

Or maybe we don't wanna know. Maybe government, like organized crime, is best left to the professionals.

A pause to wish a happy birthday to a very special someone...

Today's my birthday! Thank you, thank you...

I'm 37 years old today, and I'm pretty happy about it. I feel like, if I died tomorrow, it would be with the knowledge that I'm happy.

There are things I'd like to do and see in my life, but the essentials for happiness are there: a deep and cherished love, three wonderful children, a good and loving family and some good friends. It's more than I deserve, and I'm grateful.

So I don't want to be younger than I am. Let's see what year 37 is like.

Change is good

Please note that I have changed the links on the right-hand side of this page. Whyn'tcha check out my friend's site, Good News Hound. It's a fun read!

Guess what? My other best friend from high school called me last night, after I'd been looking around for her number during the day. This reunion thing has brought all three of us together, whether we all decide to actually attend the reunion or not.

20th reunion update

A while back, I wrote a couple of posts about my indecision about whether to attend my 20th high school reunion. Well, I dithered about it and finally just let the deadline for RSVPs pass by, deciding (thru indecision) not to go.

Then a phone call from a former classmate: a bubbly, funny girl then and a bubbly, funny woman (and Mtl radio DJ) now. She convinced me, by bringing up names of former friends, that I should take advantage of the extended deadline and come to the reunion, dammit. Actually, I won't be going to the reunion proper (which costs $65 and sounds like a bit of a drag), but to the evening-before reception at a West Island tavern.

This led me to e-mail my best friend from high school, who is not really a friend anymore, per se, but we keep in distant touch; she lives in Moncton. Well, she hadn't known about the reunion and is now thinking about going, and she's moving back to Mtl in early June, and wants to see me and the family and catch up.

So things are happening -- in mysterious ways.

I also got a big ol' tax refund, so we can buy a new front and garage door for the house. And it's my birthday in 2 days and my 10th wedding anniversary this coming Friday. Good things abound!

Dreaming

I know it's supposed to be lame to tell people about your dreams, but I actually like to hear about other people's dreams, and my dream-life is so intense and such a big part of my total life that I hate to ignore it.

Most of my dreams take place in a fallen world; there are fewer people, things are broken and dirty and the surroundings aren't as important as what's going on emotionally. But the setting is always interesting and lends a mood to the whole dream experience.

The me that exists in my dreams is a kind of camera-me, a visual and emotional (sub)consciousness that doesn't see itself, but experiences things and people in a kind of hollowed-out way, without much interior thought and the kind of basic awareness that perhaps an animal or insect might have. But the emotional life of this dream-me is intense, perhaps all the more so because the thought/logical life is so simplified.

I have always felt that my dream life is important, that in a way it is experience, even if it only happens in my brain (and sometimes I'm not sure that it is only in my brain -- Sometimes I'd swear that it's a kind of astral flying). I certainly feel that I gain real wisdom from listening to my dreams, just like I do (sometimes!) from waking-life experiences.

Milestone

My baby had her first birthday this past Saturday. She was my Mother's Day gift last year, and it's lovely to celebrate her birth and Mother's Day on the same weekend.

The first birthday has been a wonderful time for me and D. with each of our children. Somehow it just feels like a big sigh of relief and a true celebration of life and health and all the things we take for granted from day to day. This birthday included a small party in the back yard, with the grandparents and a few neighbours over for barbecue and balloons and cake. An added treat was the the presence of my sister K., who lives in Vancouver. Unfortunately, during the party she got a phone call telling her of an emergency back home, and she flew back that night, after having spent only one day here.

The baby is a delight -- a chubby, happy little girl. She is funny and smart and she loves to chatter on about everything she sees and experiences. She is a talented mimic, and has an amazing vocabulary already. Her first word (apart from Mama and Dada) was doggy (or "go-go"), but she has about 15-20 other words already and seems to add more every day. Yesterday she pointed to my screen saver, which is a photograph of her, and said "good girl" (or "go-gr"). It's nice to know that she thinks of herself that way.

Proscrastination, thy name is Blog

Is it a coincidence that, since I landed myself a freelance writing gig, every time I sit down at the computer I get inspired to write a blog post?

Nyet.

Does Your Nose Smell?

This is going to be a negative/positive post, so if you don't like the rant, feel free to move on to the recommendations at the end...

I love CBC Radio. I am a devoted fan, fully convinced that it is a Canadian cultural treasure. But, like all CBC fans, I also have some complaints about programming. The biggest problem with CBC national programming (as opposed to local, which is a whole other story) is the 10-12 am show, "Smells Like Sycophancy", ("Sounds Like Canada" to some), with host Shelagh Rogers. There was a big kerfuffle a few years ago when Rogers was passed over as replacement/successor to the late lamented Peter Gzowski (now broadcasting in Radio Heaven). Shelagh Rogers' legions of fans wanted her to have a show, so the CBC relented and gave her a show that was mostly documentaries and stuff from contributors, which she kind of announced, I guess would be the word. Well, she didn't like this, and the show really didn't have an identity, so the brass finally gave in and re-vamped the show, allowing Rogers to "interview" guests and do a regular newsmagazine-type show, albeit folksy and cute rather than newsy.

Well, I'm sorry to say that she sucks as an interviewer. She gushes and agrees and emotes all over the place, but the salient question is just beyond her capability. I hate to say it, but the brass knew what they were doing when they limited her exposure. Now I do that on my own by growling and turning off the radio after I've heard about 10 minutes of her "aw shucks"-ing. And the guests! Oh my god, could this show be any more boring? Do I really need to hear a 20-minute interview with singer-song-writer so-and-so who just might be about to hit the big time with his/her folky-country crooning? And when Rogers does get a famous person on the show, she just gushes so much it's unbearable to hear. I'm actually embarassed for her. Surely someone who's been in broadcasting for 25 years should be able to come up with a better response than "Hmmm, that's soo true! I love that!"

I could go on, but I won't.

On the positive side, the CBC has a shitload of fantastic shows. If you haven't heard Wiretap, Saturdays at 6:30 pm, do yourself a favour and check it out. It's cutting-edge radio, brilliantly written and performed. Tapestry, the show about religion and spirituality, is a thoughtful, fascinating insightful show, every single week. Talking Books is a book-lover's dream and a brilliant interview show bringing you the finest minds of our time. Of course, Ideas, weeknights at 9, is the most consistently thought-provoking programme around. And a personal favourite is Out Front, where regular people tell their stories. Be careful, though: Out Front is on Weekdays at 11:45 am; tune in even a few minutes earlier than that and you'll have to hear Shelagh Rogers. And you may feel like you need to take a shower after the ooze.

Movie Review -- Kung Fu Hustle Starring and created by Tommy Chow

Wild. Totally freakin' outrageous.

I saw this film on a rainy Saturday afternoon and I was the only person in the theatre. I left all adult logic at the door and enjoyed every minute of this insane movie, sitting back and watching the cartoonish characters kick the crap out of each other in an ever-accelerating whirlwind of unbelievable superhero fight scenes.

It makes little sense, and it's shockingly violent, for a cartoonish kung fu flick, but it's so OTT it has to be seen to be believed. One of my favourite things about it was the scenery/set-design. The evil "Axe Gang" is awesome and strange, with their top-hats and their silent dancing. The landlady alone is worth the price of admission.

It's flawed, for sure, but so inspired. If we don't see Kung Fu Hustle imitators in the coming years, I'll eat my top hat.

Book Review: Elegy for Iris, by John Bayley

As a fan of Iris MurDoch's books and as someone who fears the possibility of a future with Alzheimer's*, I knew that I would read this book some day. It was published and widely reviewed in 1999, and I thought that its premise, a memoir of the love and marriage of John Bayley and Iris Murdoch and also of their relationship during her illness, made sense and seemed the right way to treat this private pain of a beloved figure in 20th-century English literature.

It is a small, beautiful and intimate book, and I was pleased to see that it focused more on their early life together than on the later days when the lovers by necessity took on the caregiver/sufferer roles that -- let's face it --nobody wants.

Their love is represented in vignettes: Events, conversations, jokes and the kind of silly banter that sticks in the memory of the lover, and in a way the whole thing is about memory. It is full of repeated images of water and swimming, in rivers and ponds. Iris Murdoch loved to be in the water, and the two lovers seem to have sought opportunities to shed their clothing and splash about in cold water, and to look at the life underneath the surface.

The way Bayley treats Murdoch's Alzheimer's is what makes this book so wonderful, and why I would recommend it to anyone who, like me, lives in fear of having to take care of a spouse with the disease. He describes his wife as being essentially the same person as she was, and he finds comfort in the fact that she laughs and enjoys jokes and songs, even when she doesn't really understand. He knows he is lucky that she is still her gentle self, and he speculates as to the link between the ego and the level of despair and anguish of the Alzheimer's sufferer; Iris didn't have much of an ego, and doesn't seem to be too frightened of what is happening to her and what she is losing. But ultimately, he admits that he cannot know what she is thinking or feeling, just as he couldn't ever know those things for certain. And that separateness is what he celebrates in marriage; the separate lives lived together in harmony. It is an elegy for love, and for marriage, as well as for Iris, and it leaves the reader with hope and gratitude for the existence of all three.

* My husband's father died of early-onset Alzheimer's, for which he may well have a genetic predisposition. It is something we talk about every so often, and it sort of lives underneath all of our hopes and plans for the future.