Harvest Thanksgiving

After a cool, wet spring, and then a cool, wet early summer, followed by six weeks of endless sunshine, the trees have been late changing colour, which they finally, now, have done, or I should say, are doing. There are some coral pinks and dark reds out there, even a few golds from the Cottonwoods, but it's a fairly lazy turn this year.  

I came up from the Static on Sunday morning because I was reading in church. There were a couple of typos in mine, and God seemed to be issuing decrees, commands and statues. Now, given that a fair proportion of our congregation probably do still think of God as an elderly gentleman, the random presentation of statues would be in keeping with the ageing process. And it made me wonder - because some of the other readers would simply have read what was written on the page - whether God's mysterious ways may indeed seem more geriatric than mystical. 

The Schloss's own harvest has been sparse this year. (The picture is not representative).
We have a number of late-ripening tomatoes, both red and yellow, a massive amount of parsley, and likewise of lavender. But we live in a place and time where my own lack of success in the garden has not impacted my family's ability to obtain food, and for this I thank my Goddesses.

I know we live in a privileged society where there is no cause for anyone to starve, and yet people still do go hungry because whilst we pay lip service to all people being equal, when push comes to shove, we don't really believe it. We like to blame, somewhere deep inside, we buy into the concept of the 'undeserving poor'.
We mentally point a finger at street people, drug addicts, people with mental health issues and reassure ourselves that we are righteous, we do the right things not to be like them, and thus condemn them through our disregard.

At this time of Harvest Thanksgiving, where is our concern for humanity, where is mine? When I think about the contempt for the Earth, for the Environment, for the health and welfare of the other travellers through space and time, I realise the importance of the long, dark, teatime of the soul. Because whilst we're feeding our faces, are we starving our souls?

Orb

Kevin says it's a raindrop on the lens, I say it's something supernatural or otherworldly. It totes wasn't the moon.

Driving to work is something I haven't had to do for a very long time. Actually, I can't remember ever having to drive to work, but there must have been a time. Mostly, I'm going in the opposite direction from the majority of the traffic, but Tuesday night I was forced to do a long stretch of the road in second because there had been an accident involving 'a police cruiser and a truck carrying cranberries'. So very specific to our area at this time of year.

Kev and Whisky are down at the Static, Kev having taken a couple of extra days off before the long weekend. Even I get this Saturday, in lieu of Monday, which is the Harvest Thanksgiving holiday.  Of course, some of the harvest was spilt on the slip road to the Queensborough bridge.
To whom do Atheists give thanks?
Hmmm....

Waxing Moon

October. Luvvly.

Saturday after work, I drove down to the Static and thence to see Kev's folks. Cousin from Spain was there. Apparently  peanut butter is in short supply there. And why shouldn't it be? Much as I like a bit of beurre d'arachide meself, I'm sure the Spanish have more exotic things to spread on their pan.

Sunday, one glorious day of rest, swimming toute seule, since it's way too cold for anyone else to be doing lengths outdoors. Again, apparently.

Yesterday, Vancouver for a seminar followed by an evening seminar. The evening one was excellent.

I feel that Facebook is getting bossy. It e-mailed me to tell me I was missing all sorts of updates from my friends. Rookie mistake. What they should have said was, 'In the time it takes for you to read this fatuous e-mail,you could have checked out your friends' status updates.'

Yeah, well, quod non erat demonstrandum.

Casino Blah

Two mornings ago, a day when I had two classes arriving for a programme first thing, and another in the afternoon, there was a fatal motorcycle crash just outside the entrance to where I work. The police had a long stretch of road leading up to it cordoned off for most of the day, so I got to learn a new back way that I would never have thought existed. Live and learn. Except for the motorcyclist who was pronounced dead at the scene. The thought of that haunted me, someone's child, lover, parent, probably going to work first thing in the morning, and never returning.

Today, I had to go to collect my renewed Permanent Resident card from somewhere in the over-priced bowels of Vancouver. Actually, more like the appendix.
The young man at the counter asked me why I hadn't yet applied for citizenship, since I was illegible. Yep, he said that, he didn't say eligible, he said, illegible.
Remembering I was in Canada, I swallowed back the sharp reply, smiled sweetly, and said I was going to get onto it straight away. And I will, since Kevin keeps reminding me and it will make crossing the border easier still.

I went from there to YVR to update the information on my NEXUS card. The skytrain goes right into the airport, it's well thought out.
A German tourist who was trying to buy a ticket from the machine, asked me if I could split a $50 note. Again I swallowed back my sharp reply and simply told him I didn't have any cash. This was true, and I rarely have as much as $50 on me.

Coming back to Richmond, you have to change at the station that overlooks the Casino. This is the most painless train change I can imagine, you simply step across the platform and an electronic reader board tells you that the next train will arrive in 4 minutes. Done.
The Casino, sorry, Casino Resort, boasts all sorts of facilities, also increases the crime in the area by a factor of something like 500%.
There is some kind of entertainment place there where tired old celebs whose names we've all long since forgotten, come to earn their crust. Forthcoming attractions include Mitzi Gaynor and Matt Goss.
I rest my case.

Rain and Telly

Monday, and madre mia is it wet. Wet and blustery. And my day off. Whisky and I were scheduled for walkies but it was rained off. I have seen some quite astonishing driving today.

We watched the first episode of the US version of Prime Suspect. It has Maria Bello as Helen Mirren's character. Of course, Maria Bello is exceptionally good, but Helen Mirren she ain't. And I guess that Mirren's Jane Tennyson and Bello's Jane Timoney are quite different characters. The premiss of the US version seems to be a woman detective trying to be accepted in amongst a bunch of male detectives. Now, whilst inequality in the workplace due to gender are most certainly alive and kicking, the extent of the hostility in Prime Suspect, really does seem to be more a mark of the 70s. I dunno. Another police drama, but I think it's playing too heavily on the name. We'll see, I'll give it a few more episodes.

We also watched Bridesmaids, which I enjoyed, but I felt that rumours of the inherent feminism were rather over-hyped. Maya Rudolph's character's wedding was still being paid for by daddy, and I do mean daddy, not parents. It was fun, but it wasn't the sensation I'd been led to believe. Melissa McCarthy was undoubtedly the unintended star though.

The Schedule

Haven't taken any pics recently, although I am now getting used to my new routine, so here's a random picture of Mae West,
'I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.'

Ah, the Autumn TV scheduling. It hath commenced. And there are some new goodies. Zooey Deschanel's new comedy 'New Girl' was funny, as was Christina Applegate's and Amy Poehler's bloke's, (my, how many genitives can you get in one sentence?) whatever his name is, but the sitcom's called 'Up All Night'.

There was another thing that started, I forget its name, what it was about or who was in it, but it was shit, don't watch it.

Michael Tuesdays and Thursdays appeared dull at first, but picked up.

Harry's back, in 'Harry's Law', and just as awesome, only I don't like that they've moved to a bigger office. We don't like that, we discussed it.

New series of Modern Family - fab as ever. As for the rest, I feel it's my duty to watch and report.

As well as Justin Bieber forever lurking, as mentioned yesterday, every bus stop seems to have a rather creepy picture of Simon Cowell signalling the start of X-Factor over here. Quite unnecessary in my opinion. No-one needs that. 

And, out in the real world, rampant misogyny continues unabated. In India, girls are being denied heart surgery by their parents because they would rather spend the money on their boys. Also, scars from heart surgery might be detrimental to the girls' marriage prospects.
Oh, shucks. Perhaps those girls should go and become heart surgeons. 

Good freaking grief.

Herewith, a trailer for the film about the life of Women's Rights activist and author Alice Walker 'Beauty in Truth'.

At ease.

Lurking and Crawling

Here comes the rain again. It has that heaviness normally associated with November.
And as in November, the light from the shops draws you in from the gloom. In Shoppers' Drug Mart, life-sized cardboard Justin Bieber lurks and watches you.
Creepy.

The dumpster in the car park has a huge sign declaring that banned items are not allowed. Gaagh.

On the way home, two stretches along Route 91 westbound are crawled in second gear, still, not parked, like the eastbound stream. Made worse though by Bryan Adams on the radio, really, there's no call for that.

At home, Kevin is making the adjustments easier, sharing the work without my having to even say anything, like moving wordlessly into a different dance.

The mornings when I do the tours at the Nature Reserve, I'm finding out about hockey habits. We meet in the car park of Planet Ice. We use their loos.
Before the kids were back at school, small boys would arrive, lugging sports bags bigger than themselves. On Saturday, 'Coach Kim' teaches little girls to skate. Today, two teams of men, all ages, turned up. Yes, men play hockey on a Wednesday morning, I wonder if their other halves think they're at work.

Genie, Bottle, Go

Still trying to get that genie back into the bottle. She'll go eventually. Although it seems a bit harsh really, putting sentient other-dimensional beings into bottles.

So, we're on puppy poop watch again. Whisky ate 8 earplugs last week, all in one go. They are re-appearing gradually. Good thing they're bright orange.

Today is my day off, so I've spent it trying to do everything around the house and un-garden, oh and car, that I didn't do last week. I'm still not there yet, but I think I've broken the beast's back.

At the weekend, we had rain, glorious, thumping, pouring, rain. The ground no longer looks parched and at least at night and first thing in the morning, the temperatures have been lower. By this afternoon though, I could have done with wearing my cozzie.

And finally, finally, on Friday, I received a letter from the PR card people telling me I have an appointment on 29th September. Canadian border services seemed pretty pleased about that. The US border services seemed less happy. Not to do with me, but they seemed to be having problems. The computer system chose Friday at around 19.00 to reboot. This caused way more problems than can possibly be imagined. For example, this was the 'every three month' visit to secondary inspection to get my visa waiver re-done. And the big problem came when anyone went to pay. The credit card machine was down, the machine that gave you change wouldn't work, and in the middle of it all, the Cascades train arrived.

An absolutely brilliant commentary on some kind of North American food(ish) product called 'Slim Jims' (only for men).
Read it and weep :)

Freedom is in Peril

Isn't it always?

Today I had the disconcerting experience of a very, very angry teacher calling me at the office and wondering why I wasn't standing beside her waiting to do the nature talk-and-walk. I can understand why she was angry, but there was nothing to tell me there had been a booking.  The offices are also about a quarter of an hour's drive from the Nature Reserve, but I got in the car and drove, hoping to goodness that the insane traffic jam that I'd witnessed on the opposite side of the road coming in, had cleared. It had. By the end the teacher was smiling, singing and generally in a much better mood. I never got to the bottom of the booking mystery however.

I'm also fairly astonished that people think there are still bears there (there were, but they were removed some years ago, because the encroaching road was stressing their habitat and thus behaviour), and yet they are still prepared to allow their students to wander round. Too much Yogi Bear I think. I'm not sure whether they think I'm the Park Ranger, and should there be any trouble I'll just whip out a picker-nic basket from my rucksack or simply that I have some secret knowledge that will keep the bears away. If I meet any, I'd have to rely on confusing them with Existential arguments the same as anyone else.

Still, I enjoyed my walk, enjoyed the class, who seemed none the worse for having waited over an hour, and enjoyed the rest of my day.

Keep Calm and Carry On

Adjusting to my new schedule. Still adjusting I suppose. I had to go to the hairdresser's in the evening, instead of a Tuesday afternoon, but it was relaxing, nice, no-one else in.

And getting used to the changes on Blogger, which seems to have undergone the sort of overhaul that small creatures in chrysalises go through.

Anyroad, I received a Keep Calm and Carry On birthday card, which I loved. 

Autumn Air

The clouds have come in and the temperature has dropped, not much, but enough to make a difference. With the nights drawing in, there is a definite autumnal feeling in the air. This evening we took Whisky for a long walk in and beyond the off-leash park and at dusk we saw this single cricket clinging to a blade of grass.

11th September 2011

Full moon.
Hottest day of the year.
My 54th birthday.
We're sitting out on the balcony and there's a turkey in the oven.

This morning, I sat in bed with my coffee and waffles and read my greetings on Facebook and thought about how I enjoyed that tecnological progress has led us to this. Pleasant memories of opening paper envelopes on my birthday, but happy to be in a different world now.

A bumper sticker on a car in Blaine, Washington last week, proclaimed that Hatred is NOT a Family Value. And how true. How much the parties that call for a return to family values, in fact preach hatred. I'm not pretending I don't hate, because I do, everyone knows the things and kinds of people I hate, but I don't keep harping on about Family Values, nor do I believe there is any such thing.

Today, this time, this place, this headspace, good to be in. 

On the Boardwalk

A long weekend down at The Static, which was very pleasant indeed, then back on the boardwalk today. Not literally you understand, today I've been finding my way around and writing stuff, but I'll be presenting programmes soon enough, Monday in fact.

In the meantime..... a superb and concise post at The F-Word, about the same old arguments we get given for why Feminists are wrong. Lovely, I recognise them all.

And from 'Good Health', a post on how marriage affects women and men differently, women tend to put on weight and (some) men use this as an excuse for leaving their partners, and after the divorce, they put on the weight, but do not suffer the social stigma that women do. What-ho Jeeves, didn't see that one coming. Much.

The air has a pleasantly 'autumn is just around the corner' feel to it, although the days remain hot, and at present, getting hotter.

Whisky is coming to terms with being on his own during the day. Today, Kevin took pity on him and cycled home at lunchtime. This sounds easier than it is, since lunchtime doesn't always have much meaning at his job.

Ah well, it's nice to be back at work, and even though I now have to drive there, at least I'm going in the opposite direction to most of the traffic.

A Presumption

No way! Seriously?! I haven't posted since Saturday? What the hell's wrong with me?
Well, actually, I have been interviewing for a job, which I have now been offered and accepted, start Tuesday. There is a weird irony to this, my friend Canadian Karen finishes work next week and long have we plotted world domination - or Ikea at least. But the universe has kept us from our megalomania. MY megalomania.

I was trying to think of a collective noun for writers. I like gang. Mostly because I fancy talking about 'my writing gang', but also because it makes us seem like some kind of bonded bunch of people who might come round your house and aggressively write.

In the same vein, posse. A posse of writers, who saddle up, sling their pens and notebooks over their shoulders and venture forth to root out poor writing in one-horse towns.

I'm also taken by a murder of writers. My writing group, sorry, gang, are like crows in that they are very intelligent and community-minded. We'll also eat almost anything and we squawk a lot.

From somewhere in the ether, the word 'presumption' came to me. I have no explanation or basis for this, simply that I like the sound, 'a presumption of writers'.

But maybe I'll settle for a platter. A platter of writers, we are after all, a veritable salad of writing styles, but we all fit perfectly together and complement each other.

Depths

I have been surprised by the improvement in Laurence's all round attitude and state of mind, as a result of his having given up smoking. To some extent it's because he finds he is able to sleep better. No amount of telling by us that nicotine is a stimulant made its way in, of course, discovery learning is always better.
And then there's the money he's now not spending. Again, a cliché until it becomes your own reality.

I was surprised to learn, and by surprised, I mean horrified, that amongst the US Republican party hopefuls for Presidential candidacy, are some so right wing loony, that Sarah Palin and Mit Romney won't join them. I loved Stewart Lawrance's description of a planned forum for expressing their hatred of humankind in general,

"DeMint's so-called "Freedom Forum" thus promises to be yet another white-hooded gathering of die-hard and highly vocal Republican homophobes."

Don't love the concept though.

And thus my learning curve of right-wing politics continues. Margaret Thatcher was right wing but from an ideological standpoint, whereas she couldn't meet with Sarah Palin, because she's a nutjob and is right-wing because she fundamentally doesn't believe in sharing. And in her turn, Palin is less crazy than Jim deMint et alia because she isn't homophobic enough. Please let it stop there.
How much lower can it go? I don't mean that as a challenge.

Enter Stage Left

It feels like the end of summer, even though that's a month away.

On Monday we had rain, pounding, torrential rain, the first rain of August. It watered the parched grass, and has left my front flower patch smelling of ambient lavender. Beautiful.

But it also beat some of the already autumnal coloured leaves from the trees, and now it seems as though they are patchy. On one side of the park, still summer, the other side sliding into the fall.

This evening, in spite of the lingering, residual heat from the day, as I brought Whisky back into the house after his evening doings, I felt that gentle reminder that September's on her way. Just something intangible in the air.

Yesterday, one of Canada's favourite politicians died. Jack Layton was a man whom everyone seemed to love, although none embraced his politics, he was a sparky, intelligent man who fought hard for gender rights. We knew he was ill, we didn't know how ill. He leaves a gaping hole in the political party that he led, with no obvious successor.

And as though to truly herald the autumn, it seems that Vancouver hosts an annual Zombie walk.
Well why not?

Pause

I have been reading a collection of essays by Alice Walker. I have already learnt several things from her interesting perspective on life, the universe and everything.

In one essay, she talks about the Pause, the turning moment, the silence after achievement. She puts forward some ideas about the feminine. This is different from the theory that femininity is a social construct, so it becomes important to differentiate between the feminine and femininity.

She talks about an Amazonian tribe called the Swa, who hold that women and men have different but equal roles. The men's role is to chop down trees for canoes and firewood, to kill animals when protein is needed, and to make war if necessary.

The women's role is one of nurturing and conserving. They tell the men when to stop. They say when there are enough canoes, enough firewood and animal protein to eat, when to stop the war.
When Swa were brought to North America they perceived too much maleness, they asked when the women were going to tell the men to stop.

Walker goes on to say that after 30 intense years of Feminism, she despairs of 'the ease with which.... women have chosen to erase their gender in language, by calling themselves and each other 'guys'......What does being called 'guys' do to to young women? To little girls? Isn't the media responsible for making it 'cute' to be a guy, as if that was all the Women's Movement was about, turning us into neutered men, into 'guys'.....SO if you've turned in your breasts and ovaries for guyness, you've really lost out...'

She's right, but it's another interesting way of viewing it. She says this is something we should ponder in that pause.

But for now, I will pause and read the new Ikea catalogue, delivered to my almost doorstep on my return from The Static. There are people in our complex who have irritated me and don't deserve an Ikea catalogue, therefore I have taken two.

Different Day, Same Answers

Many churches seem to feel they must compete for the cheesiest quotes on their reader boards. I've driven past one a couple of times that claims, 'There are some questions Google can't answer!'
Well I beg to differ Our Saviour Lutheran. There is no question that Google can't answer, I know because I have tried plumbing in random strings of letters with a question mark at the end, and it always comes up with something.
The answer you get may be meaningless or incorrect, or just plain not what you wanted, but it always gives you something.

I've had a moderately busy week. I went back to New Westminster for another job search related workshop, and I've also been to the admin office of a women's shelter organisation that I'm going to be volunteering at - the office, not the shelter itself.

I'm going to be writing an article for LIB, a new UK feminist magazine, fab.

Not much else really, the weather continues to be sunny and warm, the grass and flowers at the front on the Schloss, continue to be parched.
Mustn't grumble.

Another Wheel Falls Off

Another wheel has fallen off my wagon. I swear it is because Mercury is retrograde, I have an intimate astral connection with Mercury. (Which reminds me of an excellent scene in 'Breaking Bad', ((fulminated mercury))but giddyup).

So, last week, re-entering Canada from the United States, my Permanent Resident card, which has expired, flagged their system, but this time, the man said - in a way that indicated that he really, really meant it - that I needed to talk to NEXUS about this. So I did, today. I went to the NEXUS office at YVR. This seems quite frenetic in comparison to the one I go to in the USA, but mainly it seems because no-one respected that it was NEXUS, and just dumped their arses down on the seats to wait for their flights.

The young woman behind the counter couldn't answer my query, but went and fetched a woman in uniform, who told me in no uncertain terms that henceforth, until my new PR card comes, I must get in the regular lane when coming back to Canada.
Crap.
This makes the whole thing irritating.

And that's without mentioning that the goalposts on the whole PR card renewal keep being moved further apart. Currently they are quoting 134 days from receipt of your application. I sent mine in in April. They are currently working on April, according to their website, but that is without the good auspices of Canada Post being taken into account, who can easily take several weeks to deliver something across the country.
No-one challenges either of these things, why? Because the people who could challenge, like me, are in the vulnerable position of potentially being further stymied. The UK passport office can turn around a passport in two weeks, guaranteed. Just saying....

On a better note, The Brompton Mix have another track up. Choose 'She's the One for Me'.

And Austen sent me this link to a very funny monologue by a U.S.American comedian David Sedaris, who lives in France with his partner. This particular one is amusing because Sedaris has the opportunity to be ridiculed by a fellow American who thinks he is 'a Froggie'.

Ten more days for Mercury to be retrograde and potentially another month for travelling back from the US to be miserable. And that's if I'm lucky.

Blackberries, Noise, Spain

Ooh cripes. Friday.

Today I learnt something that should have been crashingly obvious. Never put blackberries in your handbag. The fruit that is, not the mobile phone thingie.

Yesterday, being Thursday, was, as ever, the noisiest day of the week. The garbage trucks and the recycling trucks seem to circle round, which causes excessive dog barking, but yesterday, there was a very noisy council vehicle chopping and chipping a tree just across the road, at 8.30 in the morning. Oddly, and mercifully, the dog ignored that one.

Yesterday also, or maybe today, I'm not sure which midnight counts as, Austen and Alex rescued Ben from Gatwick, Austen having previously rescued him (presumably by credit card), from Spain. He had gone out there with his mates, then developed tonsillitis, and keeled over, feverish and throat almost swollen shut. None of them seemed to have been able to locate any medical help or even any proper painkillers, so in the end he contacted his sister, who contacted the sensible brother and Austen organised an early flight home.
Penicillin seems to be doing the trick now.