Author Archives: Autumn

Monday

Well, it’s officially a stereotypical Monday. My desktop won’t/can’t connect to the Internet, no matter what I unplug/replug/switch on/switch off/restart; the laptop (connected to the emergency upstairs in-house wireless) conks out every so often with a “no bootable device found” message when I try to restart four times out of five.

A headache should not be this severe, this early in the morning.

The Internet isn’t exactly required for work, it just makes it a heck of a lot easier when I have to check facts for which I have no hard copy references. Also, I can’t check my email for answers to the questions I asked last Friday, or ask new ones via that medium if they arise. I could call, but the questions are kind of niggly and not really worth that.

Much with the grr. And HRH has gone and double-booked himself for the evening, telling the neighbours he’d finish painting their bathroom tonight (as usual it’s taking longer than originally expected, because the people who installed the ceiling vent didn’t properly finish or sand the plastering, so what should have been a two-hour job has already taken four and will take another one). Also, I’m fairly certain he’s forgotten he said he’d create and lead tonight’s coven ritual (if he’s even going to be there), which means it falls into my lap.

I’m not a happy girl at the moment. And I should log off before the laptop decides to crash again.

(I did have an excellent weekend, however, which began Friday night celebrating my birthday with the Preston-LeBlancs at a pub dinner and a (3D IMAX!) showing of Order of the Phoenix, continued through Saturday with a delicious birthday dinner made by my in-laws, and culminating in a nice lazy Sunday. Also? Presents! Hurrah!)

Happy Anniversary!

My family’s always had a lot to celebrate on this particular date. Today is my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary!

They’re currently enjoying a lovely dinner out. I, of course, while remembering it was their anniversary, completely forgot to send them a card. This lack of postal awareness goes right along with the baby gift I’ve had sitting here for about a month that needs to be packed and mailed out east to friends. I’ve told myself to do it every day for four weeks now. It’s still sitting here.

Happy anniversary, Mum and Dad.

Happy Birthday To Me, And Introducing…

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has communicated birthday wishes via phone message, email, or on their journals! You are a wonderful and loving bunch of people, and I am honoured to call you all my friends.

The weather is lovely, which is a gift in and of itself. My birthday celebration began a wee bit early; last night, in fact, when t! and I went to to hang out with Jes, the bassist of local Celtic band Squidjigger, and I came home with a new friend. Almost exactly thirteen years to the day after I bought my cello, a new bass instrument has entered my life.

She is a Vantage fretless bass, model number 330b (we think), with a lovely grained rosewood fingerboard, satin-finished neck, and a deep emerald-green stained body. She hasn’t told me her name yet, although I suspect one. She’s about ten years old but has only been played a handful of times, and never gigged, so she is in almost original condition. The jack is a bit finicky and she needs a tune-up, but that’s standard maintenance.

There is an entire subculture of basses with cello tuning, called tenor basses. Bet you didn’t know that. I didn’t until I started researching it idly a couple of weeks ago, because I can’t even conceive of finding the time or brain space with which to learn new fingering and scale system on an instrument with different strings. I knew that if I was ever to play an electric bass, I would want to up- or downtune it to cello tuning, because then all my fingering would be the same. And then… a fretless bass showed up on Craiglist at a really excellent price. (I didn’t even know there were such things as fretless basses. Shows how much attention I paid at the instrument and lutherie exhibit downtown last year. Although to be fair, I was searching for electric cellos to test, not looking at basses.) The idea of fretless appealed to me because I can’t stand the idea, sound, or feel of frets under a string when I play. It’s not like I was actively seeking a bass. It was just a vague if-ever thing sitting in the back of my mind that put up its hand and cleared its throat diffidently when I saw the listing.

I tested it with a clear mind, ready to say no if it felt wrong or if I was at all uncomfortable with the instrument or the situation, but from the moment Jes handed it to me and I put it on my lap it felt balanced. Usually when people hand me guitars I feel awkward and as if I have to hold them in place or keep them from falling. t! says the moment he saw me holding it he knew it was going home with me, but I don’t know when I decided it was actually mine. I think I slowly grew into it over the evening, as I explored the feel and sound of it, and talked with t! and Jes about basses and styles and makes and music in general. Aside from acquiring the new instrument I made a new friend, because Jes is a freelance writer-theatre-music person like I am, and we intend to stay in touch. I knew things were going well when no one made noises about wrapping things up once I’d sat with the bass for a little bit. We ended up spending two and a half hours there. He has handsome cats, and lovebirds too.

Also, the bass is pretty. I wouldn’t have even looked twice at the ad if the pictures had shown it to be a loud colour, a strange shape, or painted oddly. I wish the picture did her more justice; she has a pretty glow thanks to the varnish, and the flash seems to have pointed out fingerprints that I was certain I’d polished away. She is pretty, and she feels good in my hands. And she was astonishingly inexpensive. Anything is cheap in comparison to the price scale of the cello, but this was half the price of what decent quality fretless basses start at in store, and certainly more than acceptable for an instrument that will be experimental, never my primary focus, and may be played twice a month. t! sent me home with a practice amp, too, so I don’t need to invest in anything more.

Adele feels very kindly towards her new younger sister; no scraps or arguments or snits. All is well.

Twenty-Five Months Old!

Happy twenty-five months old, Liam. Your caregiver just called me to tell me that you’d jammed an inch-long chunk of carrot up your nose, which required tweezers to remove. Any further in and it would have been a trip to the emergency room to get it taken out. Now you’ve done it, and we’ve had the experience, and we can move along richer for the wisdom gained. Yes?

Somewhere around his second birthday his lower two-year-old molars came in. He’s been insisting on brushing his teeth alone and refusing the parental once-over that used to follow, so I don’t know when exactly they showed up. We discovered them on Monday, as we can get the toothbrush into his mouth for the full cleaning instead of him just brushing the front, because we came up with the brilliant idea of bringing the toothbrush into his room to brush while he watches his fish. They look pretty settled and they’re well through the gums, so they’re not new. Now we’re waiting on the upper set.

Speaking of the fish, the mollies have spawned. We had fourteen extra fish in the tank one morning, which have now settled down to seven babies, some dark, some silvery. We lost the adult leopard mollie around the same time, alas. Still; losing one adult, gaining seven babies… it’s a novelty to come out ahead on the fish count. “See baby fishes!” is Liam’s newest phrase that he’s doing to death. He stands on his toy chest and presses his nose against the aquarium for ages at a time; he holds various toys up to see the fish. He hugs the tank. “Hug fishes,” he says happily.

He talks and talks and talks, and is clear and articulate enough that we can understand him ninety percent of the time. He says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ without prompting about half the time now, and is using ‘you’re welcome’ more frequently. He’s started using possessives and including the words ‘the’ and ‘in’ in his sentences. And if I wear a skirt or a dress, Liam says, “Pretty Mama.” It’s good for the ego.

He’s currently immersed in the world of Beatrix Potter and enjoying it. “Mice?” he’ll say when he wants to read or watch some. “Bunnies?” We picked up a collection of animated Beatrix Potter episodes, and they’re lovely and relaxing to watch at the end of the day. (Even when there is death and nature red in tooth and claw going on. There’s a lot of that in Beatrix Potter. Rabbits may wear shoes and coats, and mice may wear Baroque clothing, but cats still chase them, and farmers still eat bunnies, and rats still try to kill kittens. Okay, they plan to make them into roly-poly puddings, but that’s cooking the kitten, people.) He’s old enough to pay attention to the books now, much to my delight. Hearing him say, “Flossy… Mossy.. Cot-on-tayul… Pee-tah!” when we read makes me laugh.

We’re working on the sharing and the concept of turns. Someone picked up a truck he was playing with at daycare the other day and he burst into tears. “Let him have a turn,” we encouraged Liam. “Please?” he said to his playmate through his tears. The playmate pulled the truck a little closer, and Liam broke into a fresh bout of tears. You could see him struggle with the injustice: “But I said please! I said please, and he didn’t give it back to me! The world isn’t fair!”

It was interesting to watch him playing with/alongside Matthieu last weekend. Matthieu is sevenish months older, with an appropriate command of language and a very clearly defined concept of ‘mine’. Liam is used to running around happily and playing with whatever is there, so he was a little startled when Matthieu took some toys away from him and told him severely that these were his toys, and Liam wasn’t to touch them. It was an eye-opener for Liam to realise that other people felt defensive about certain possessions, the same way he felt defensive about certain toys of his own. Later, Liam picked up Matthieu’s extra-special Monkey and carried him over to Matthieu, which was his way of indicating that Liam understood Monkey was important to him. Matthieu asked for ketchup and mustard on his hamburger later that afternoon and because Matthieu did, Liam did too. Liam has demonstrated in the past that he’s not a fan of either condiment, but he ate half the bun with traces of both on it, and some bites of the burger too. (HRH had to sit him on his lap and feed him little bites, but he ate it. Hey, there were Thomas toys he’d never seen before in the next room; Thomas trumps dinner every time.) He picked half a pork chop up off my plate at dinner last night and tore into it, ignoring the bits I’d cut up for him on his own plate. His use of forks and spoons is really impressive too.

Playground visits consists of climbing stairs, sliding down the slide, running around to climb up and slide down, repeat ad nauseum. Every once in a while he tests physics by trying to climb the slide. “Would you like to play on the swings?” we ask. “No!” he pants as he runs by with a grin on his face. Why? There’s a slide right here. It might as well be the only piece of playground equipment that exists in Liam’s world. He even said “Excuse me” to a girl who was in the way by the stairs last weekend. He plays Ring Around the Rosy too, often by himself. He is particularly fond of the “Ashes, ashes, all fall — down!” bit, doing deep knee bends followed by throwing himself flat on his stomach. His songs are becoming clearer and clearer.

He expresses very satisfying joy when we say we’re going to the bookstore. “Bookstore! Bookstore! Liam bookstore!” he carols. Then when he gets there he’s even more excited, because the bookstore we usually go to has a Thomas train layout in the children’s section. (Next time we go I will smuggle in some glue, though, because there is a broken train on the layout that distresses Liam terribly; he keeps bringing it to me and saying “Mama fix, Mama fix it”. Also around his second birthday, he clearly began calling the No. 1 blue engine ‘Thomas’ instead of ‘Ati’.) I love that he gets excited about the bookstore and about books. I love that he loves life, that he does everything with enthusiasm and evident enjoyment. He has his two-year-old moments where he kicks and screams because something hasn’t gone according to his plan, but it’s an opportunity to communicate with him and ask him to express in words what it is that he is feeling, and what it is that he wanted to happen instead. We’re learning to choose our battles, too. It’s not a big thing if he wants to stand in the tub while it fills for his bath. The crisis that will be created if we refuse is a much bigger thing, and something none of us need. He’s challenging us to rethink why we do things a certain way. Change can be good; doing something in a slightly different order can be refreshing. And at the same time, the comfort of a regular routine is soothing and reliable, and provides structure for the day and for our worldviews.

When he’s very upset, sometimes he asks us to light a candle. Picking him up and holding him so he can see, we do, and we say, “Thank you God, thank you Goddess, for my day, and for making the world so pretty, and for people who love us.” “Thank you, God and Goddess,” he echoes, and watches the candle for a while.

Life is good.

Paying Less For Books?

The ever-weakening US dollar means that the printed pricing on books here in Canada is increasingly inaccurate. Consumers have been grumbling about this for ages. To be fair, retailers have been paying for the books based on the cover price, so for them to reprice the books to reflect an accurate exchange rate before shelving them for sale would mean a financial loss, something that’s hard to take in a business that doesn’t make much money already.

The Globe & Mail is reporting that Canadian retailers are going to see a price break in term of a reduction on their invoices from book distributors. This is a great idea, except retailers are going to have to reprice the books themselves to reflect the savings. It will be interesting to see how widespread the practice will actually be. It will be challenging, because shelved backlist will still sell at the older printed prices as it’s what the store paid for the stock, and there’s no guarantee that every distributor will offer a discount to the retailer. Tricky…

Coffee Break

Hurrah, more thunderstorms! I love thunderstorms: I’ve got windows open to smell the water and wet earth as well as to hear the rain. The storm and Yo-Yo Ma playing Ennio Morricone are providing my work soundtrack today.

I now know the difference between an Axel, a salchow, and a toe loop. What I’m not clear on is why Axel takes a capital but salchow does not. Axels are named after Axel Paulsen, and salchows are named for Ulrich Salchow (heck, even loops are formally called Rittbergers although you never hear the term), so why aren’t both capitalised?

This morning at breakfast:

LIAM: Mama sitting in Dada’s chair.

AUTUMN: [counts the words in the sentence and notes the use of the word ‘in’] Er, yes. Yes, I’m sitting in Dada’s chair.

LIAM: Dada! Come sit! Come sit in Mama’s chair, Mama in Dada’s chair.

And yesterday, we met a lovely cinnamon-coloured rabbit on our back porch. He lives next door and is called Switch, although Liam called him Peter while feeding it his raisins and giggling when the bunny tickled his hand with his nose. The neighbours were nowhere in sight but their back door was open, so we assumed it was theirs although we had no notion they owned a rabbit. HRH did track them down later though to make sure (a) the rabbit was allowed outside, and (b) that it was okay for it to wander over to our deck and visit with us. It’s very sweet and easy-going, and Liam adored it. It was nice for him to be able to pet something, seeing as how he can’t exactly cuddle his fish and the cats are avoiding him these days as he has been attempting to pick them up by handfuls of fur.

Back to editing the script. Break’s over.

Welcome To Monday Morning

We had a wonderful afternoon with Karine, Adam, and the boys yesterday at their new house. It was good to get out, and the unexpected sun was a treat. We all slept well (and slept in!); great thunderstorm this morning; everyone was in a good mood getting ready for the day.

Then, two words ruined the morning:

Flat tire.

Very flat, in fact. We must have run over something on the unfinished roads out in the new development. Good thing the landscaping has been called off for the day due to the wet weather, because this allows HRH to drive the car very, very carefully on the (surprisingly small) spare out to our mechanic. The bad part is that he’s going to waste half the day doing car stuff when he could be painting and finishing up the job across the street. We’re crossing our fingers and hoping that it’s just a puncture that can be plugged, and not a damaged rim or a tire that can’t be patched.