moving song

packing it up and taking it over
slinging a slinky over my shoulder
running away in a fresh direction
tasting the world in a new confection

and everything is new
and everything is bright
i'm looking at all the worldness, brightness,
singing this song of mine

nothing is old in a world ever young
tasting this song on the brink of my tongue
the bridge might be long but i like standing high
swinging in blue at the top of the sky

and everything is blue
and everything's in sight
i'm taking in all the worldness, lightness,
singing this song of mine

with the love that i'll meet and the love that i've known

i go by myself but i don't go alone

so i dance and i laugh on the road ever new

and the wind sings to me and so i sing to you

and everything is true
and everything is right
as i'm looking for all the worldness, brightness,
singing this song of mine

A Near-Death Experience and the Chicken that Made it all Worthwhile

DEATH LOOKS OVER MY SHOULDER
I just about died today. Well, that may be an overdramatization, but I came within 7 feet of being hit by a woman with a seemingly pathological inability to yield. I also just about fell off my bike while adjusting my sleeves (my hands were cold, okay?). I'm beginning to think that a helmet might not be a bad idea, no matter how stupid it looks.

SUDOKU ENTANGLES ME IN ITS EVIL NET
I started playing sudoku yesterday to pass the time (most of the lawyers were out of the office and I had nothing to do). I completed my first puzzle today. I'm hooked. I love the challenge. I love the distraction. I love the look of the neatly gridded squares, with half-revealed numerical secrets peeking out at me. Maybe it fills the relational void or something: my life has no great mystery, so I fill it with sudoku. It makes sense in a sick sort of way.

GREAT SCOTT! THE CHICKEN'S AMAZING!
I bet you folks out there didn't know that Carla (of carlasblogspot.blogspot.com fame) is secretly a master chef. It's true. All summer she's been hiding her skills and inwardly mocking my sad attempts at cookery. Tonight, however, her secret was revealed. I came home (perhaps unexpectedly) to discover her making dill-lemon-lime chicken, corn on the cob (seasoned with her special sauce), cucumber salad and pasta. I begged some supper off of her and was nourished in ways I'd previously only imagined. In gratitude I will now toot the Carla horn wherever I go. Get her to cook for you. If it requires a high-speed car chase and mutiny against the Crown, get her to cook for you. You won't regret it.

My very own infomercial

I spent some time today at the bike shop waiting for a new wheel. A little part of me died when the repair guy asked me whether I'd been curb stomping or something and I had to tell him that I actually tripped over the bike coming out of the shed. Oh well; humility is good for the soul. I was griping to myself about the money - the whole point of the bike is that it's cheap and low-maintenance (kind of like me) - when I came to a sudden realization: it cost less to replace the wheel on my bike than it would to fill the tank of a small car. And the bike shop guys are way more informative (and more attractive) than your average Honda dealer. The conclusion is clear: everyone should ride a bike. Bicyclists save their own resources (think cash) and are way easier on the earth (think fuel consumption and exhaust production). It's slimming. It's fun. People honk at you all friendly-like (or not). Granted, it's not practical or even possible in a place like Saskatchewan for the better part of the year. But for all you sun-starved Canadians out there, it's a great way to increase your vitamin D intake in those all-too-short months of summer. No more SAD for you! (And if you don't know about Seasonal Affectation Disorder, you're obviously from Arizona or California.) So go get a bike. It does a body good.

On the other hand...

I'm irritated by high school romances. This may be a sign that I'm a tired old hag, but I can't help it. When one is over 20 and chronically single, it's aggravating to watch a movie that implies that even the hopelessly inept ought to have found true love by graduation

Whiskers on kittens...

In order to counteract the generally angry tone of the last few posts, I thought I'd make a list of my favourite things. As I'm spending the weekend largely on my own, there will be a lot of reading materials on this list. Not that I'm annoyed or anything.

My Favourite Things
1. The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery. The best book ever. Not so much for the writing - she's definitely written more polished stories and there are many more accomplished writers out there - but for the dream it embodies. I want to be Valancy.
2. Far From the Madding Crown by Thomas Hardy. At heart I am Bathsheba Everdene.
3. T.S. Eliot. That Nobel Prize was no accident. Same to J. M. Coetzee.
4. Pablo Neruda. I was reminded of him when I saw one of his poems on another blogpage recently. I remember reading the "I do not love you as..." sonnet when I was about 15 and being completely absorbed in it.
5. Challis, for staying in the city and hanging out with me this weekend. You rock.
6. Sailing. I went for the first time a few weeks ago and I loved it. Now all I've got to do is get over that fear of water...
7. Kandahar. The word, not the place. It sounds like a name for heaven. Every time I read about the desperate things that happen there it makes me feel like paradise has been lost again.
8. My bike. I'm in better shape this summer than I've ever been in my life.
9. Apple pie. Specifically, making apple pie and doing a good job. I made it on my own for the first time this last week and it was fantastic, if I do say so myself.
10. Prairie nights, out of the city, away from the yard, just looking up and glorying in the gorgeousness. I've never had a reason to be afraid of the dark.

C'est tout for now.

Rah.

I am not a school spirit person. That's the hard truth, and I'm not ashamed of it. I never liked school sports, school clothes, or school in general. One of the best things about university, and especially professional school, is that no one keeps track of how many "spirit points" I've won or lost for my house by participating or refusing to participate in inane activities. However, every once in a while I feel called on to support my college by helping out with less inane, more friendly-like activities. Case in point: about a month ago I volunteered to host a BBQ in my city for past, present and future Dal Law students who might be in the area. They're putting them on all across the country and this seemed like a good way to be part of that big happy family that is Dal Law. I may have had ulterior motives - it's always nice to meet new people - but in general, I was doing this out of a love for my fellow man and a general desire to be useful.

The first hint that things might not turn out so well was the announcement that the BBQ would take place on August long weekend (a.k.a., this weekend). My response was along the lines of "What?!? Who plans a school activity for the last free long weekend in summer?!?" However, I deferred to the better judgment of those in the know, who claimed that this was the weekend that worked out best for the greatest number of people. They also didn't respond to my attempts to reschedule. Great. So I rearranged my plans and decided that I would stay in the city instead of going home to my family or heading off with some friends. Note that I've been home only one time for two days since Christmas and that once I fly out to Halifax in September, I probably won't see most of these friends until next May. But whatever - I offered up my social and familial life to what I was hoping would be the greater good.

Well, to make a long story short, no one RSVP'd and no one showed up. It was me and a few friends who I had (providentially) asked to come over when I began to suspect that this was not going to turn out to be the happening social engagement of the year. I'm not surprised - it is the long weekend and it was a miserable day for a BBQ. I don't even blame anyone: no one told them they could maybe let me know if they weren't going to come. For all I know, they probably didn't even know this was going on. Sadly, I wasn't in charge of communication for the event. I am ticked off, though. And I've decided that the embargo on school spirit is officially and irrevocably in force. I will no longer take part in events controlled from halfway across the country by some student hopped up on school spirit. It's not my thing, it's never been my thing, and I'm done with it for good. And if I ever have control of the mass media, I will send out a message to all of the sadly misinformed people out there that long weekends are not to be sullied with school events. So there.

And when's the last time he poured wine into such a small cup?

Nance wandered down interminable aisles of peanut butter and Minit Tapioca. Unexpected encounters with reality had brought her to a crisis of sorts: the revelation that life could be so much better and so much worse than the soporific stumble from bed to office to kitchen to bed. People suffer and crumble and fall for no good reason; justice is meted out by gossiping lawyers and careless judges and counsel's advice may rest on the inconvenience of another three hour drive. The courtroom on a reserve up north will always be full and unpayable fines for petty crimes will meet their match in shallow and endless violence. She herself is little more than a commodity, a tool; "mentoring" is just another term for whetting the blade. The question of the moment is in whose hands she will place herself to be wielded; for what is she willing to be broken?