Category Archives: Diary

Catching Up

I managed to revise thirty-nine pages of Orchestrated today. Go me! Also spent some of the day backing up files and such, because tonight is the night that I go to view and probably buy the Mac mini! Oh, new computer, you have only been, what, three years in the planning? No more scrounging something together from old computers downstairs! You will be under warranty! The idea is positively intoxicating.

Yesterday in the mail I got a gift certificate to my local yarn shop, purchased for me by my lovely and thoughtful editor! And today I made my appointment to go test drive the two Louet wheels they have (well, one is the shop’s, the other belongs to one of the owners). So on Thursday, that is what I will be doing. Very exciting.

Today’s bad thing was my lovely owl plaque developing a hole int he middle of it. It was a museum plaster cast of an Egyptian bas relief of two owls, and it’s hung by a scooped-out bit in the back and a bar across the resulting hollow. I moved the nail it hangs on, and was hooking the plaque over it… and the nail went through the plaque at the thinnest part. I had a horrible moment of kneejerk despair, and then I breathed again and put it down gently. Perhaps HRH can fill it in, or at least help me find a paint that matches the sort of buff-colour finish of the plaster, so we can drybrush over the white plaster that’s showing around the hole where it all crumbled; maybe the hole will be less noticeable then. It’s right in the middle of one of the owls, though.

Boy needs to go to bed!

Weekend Roundup, Birthday Edition

What a lovely weekend!

Saturday HRH went over to his parents’ house and helped his dad build the new back deck until they got rained out. The boy and I lazed around the house all morning: he watched the fifth and final disc of the first season of the Animaniacs, while I read and surfed online. HRH came home halfway through the boy’s nap once it had started to rain, and wow, did it ever rain for the rest of the day! We sat on the back doorstep and watched the wicked storms roll in, and when it began to be too wet back there we opened the front living room wall living room patio doors and sat there watching the rain pound the road and the huge maple tree whip around in the high winds. HRH had to go downstairs and rescue the garage from flooding, as the drain at the base of the driveway had blocked with dirt and maple keys. It was fabulous storm, and watching it was a lot of fun, too. At one point the thunder rolled and Liam clapped, then said, “That’s the big man in the sky with his hammer!” HRH turned to me and said with deep satisfaction, “My place in Valhalla is now assured.” The storm’s damage was impressive, including flooded highways that created miserable traffic problems that we saw but fortunately didn’t have to deal with, as we drove in the opposite direction that night.

HRH’s parents arrived at five, and I opened my birthday gifts from both sets of parents because the boy was nearly beside himself with excitement wondering what was in them. My parents had given me a copy of The Cello Suites (the recent book by a Montreal journalist, not a recording, because I have at least three four five of the latter) and a fabulous tiny micro-grater, while HRH’s parents gave me a lovely candle and money to put toward whatever I liked. Then HRH and I headed out to meet Ceri and Scott for a sushi dinner that had been planned for about four months. We ate fabulously delicious sushi, and then discussed the merits of moving on to a place like Rockaberry’s for dessert versus returning to their place to play Rock Band. The discussion didn’t last long: Rock Band it was! We played for a good couple of hours and then drove home in yet another storm in order to release HRH’s parents from babysitting the boy, so they could go home before the storm got any worse.

Sunday morning they tried to let me sleep in but the boy was too excited about the day. “Do you know what your presents are? Will they be surprises?” he kept sneaking in to my room to whisper. We went back to HRH’s parents’ house so HRH could help his dad finish the deck that had been rained out the day before, and the boy, his Grandma and I went out to pick up groceries. Once back home, the boy napped while HRH went out to pick up ice and my not-so-secret-by-that-point birthday present, and I made a Thai noodle salad for the small birthday picnic I’d planned.

One of the intangible birthday gifts I received came during my weekly phone call with my mother. My parents had flown out to Vancouver to visit with my grandmother last week, while they were there they took Gran out to the library. They set her up at a computer, put a set of headphones on her, and my dad cued up the URLs to some of the videos taken at the Canada Day concert. It didn’t quite sink in for her until my dad moved the cursor to point at me in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, at which point she exclaimed quite loudly (she is rather deaf and had headphones on, after all). Fortunately, the people around her in the library were amused rather than upset. Mum says Gran was quite overcome and couldn’t stop talking about it. “I knew she was in an orchestra, but I had no idea it was like that,” she apparently said. I’m just thrilled that she finally got a chance to see and hear a concert, and I’m especially pleased that it was this particular performance. One of the ideas behind the MiniDisc player was to send her some sort of recording, but she doesn’t have a CD player or a computer, and I have no way to record it into cassettes (if she even has a cassette deck any more), and as we saw on Canada Day, the MiniDisc may not be capable of handling the level of music produced by the orchestra. The video was a much more personal way of sharing it with her. So once again, I’m thankful that the HD video was made.

We packed for the picnic, and on the way to the park we stopped to pick up balloons, as the boy says all birthdays require balloons. Unfortunately, the wind was so strong that half an hour after we arrived they were tugged loose from the picnic backpack to which we’d attached them, and they rose to tangle in the branches of the huge poplar tree under which we sat. It was pretty, but not as pretty as having them right there with us, and rather put paid to my plan of sending them home with the kids in attendance. Everyone had made some kind of salad to share, which was terribly amusing, but they were all very different: pasta salad, strawberry/walnut/spinach salad, two-potato and corn salad, my Thai noodle salad, and I think I’m missing one. It was a light and refreshing meal. I didn’t bake a cake this year; instead, we’d bought one that morning that was nice and light and not too sweet. There were nine adults and three kids, which made for a small and relaxed group. Pasley, Jeff and the girls gave me a lovely amber-coloured beaded necklace with a photo pendant of an owl on it (and a moon on the other side!) and a set of earrings to match, and Devon drew me a really excellent card of me playing my cello.

We wrapped everything up around six, and came home. I played with the iPod Touch that HRH and Meallanmouse had given me and thanks to the free wifi network nearby downloaded a couple of free apps (Twitterrific and Stanza being the ones I am the most excited about) and then several free e-books. (A Room With a View! Howards End! Persuasion! Sense & Sensibility! Pride & Prejudice! Jane Eyre! The Prisoner of Zenda! And just to blow the curve, His Majesty’s Dragon!) Now I have lots of my favourite books with me all the time, and I will never be caught without something to read again. This makes me disgustingly gleeful, and also smug. I can’t get over how crisp and clear the screen is, how easy it is to read on it, and how accurate the on-screen keyboard is. Liam wandered into my office after his nap yesterday and said, “What’s that?” “It’s, um, like a little computer that plays music and I can read books on it, too,” I said. He climbed on my lap and watched me tap my way through some things, then asked if he could try it. I pulled up Notes for him and said, “Why don’t you try typing your name?” He hunted and pecked, and again I was amazed at how accurate the keyboard was, even for preschool fingers. He slipped off my lap and left my office with the Touch, saying, “I’ll bring this back to you when I’m finished with it.” I found him in the living room typing things. He’d figured out that if he turned it so that the screen was landscape instead of portrait, the keyboard enlarged. He’d also found something that made a terrible buzzing sound, so I rescued it before he could do something irreparable to it. The Touch is currently decked out in the cartoon skulls and bones skin that Meallanmouse had on it, which amuses me because it is so cute and so punk at the same time. “Does the Touch have a name yet?” Ceri asked me this morning. “At the moment it is called the YAY NEW TOY, all in caps,” I replied.

The boy developed a cold last Thursday evening, which means he got it at school at the beginning of last week. It’s not bad, but I have it now too, of course. Which, apart from the sad loss of the lovely balloons, was the only down side to the weekend. Well, I would have liked to have seen HRH some more, but we did get out on Saturday night, and that was absolutely wonderful. And tonight’s meeting has been cancelled, so perhaps we will be able to play some more Rock Band together. (It will come as a surprise to absolutely no one to know that I hold the bass like a cello because it’s easier on my hands and arms. This is fine in the Wii version because the upright position triggers overdrive as soon as the option is available, but the Xbox wants me to move the bass to trigger it and won’t recognise the left/down motion I make or the return to upright, so all that lovely energy was wasted. Scott told me to use the Select button, which works very well instead, except I need to time it properly so I don’t start missing notes.)

So all in all, the birthday weekend was very pleasant indeed. It was relatively low-key, and I have a new toy whose code name is YAY NEW TOY, and there is a piece of cake left in the fridge for me. I have a pile of new music by The Donnas, courtesy of Ceri, to speed me along my day of work. And my birthday celebration continues throughout the week, what with the Mac Mini appointment Tuesday night, and my local family birthday dinner this coming Saturday night!

The Mac Transition Begins; Or, SQUEE!!!

HRH just handed me a gift bag. While the boy napped and I made Thai noodle salad, he’d gone out to buy ice for the cooler and what he called “a thick card.”

Inside the bag was a joint gift from Meallanmouse and himself: an iPod Touch! It’s Meallanmouse’s original Touch, which was replaced by her new iPhone. And as I’d been looking for a secondhand iTouch to use as an e-book reader, and she was going to sell hers, well, the stars aligned and I have a new toy!

(“Don’t you want me to open it at the picnic this afternoon?” I said when he handed it to me. “No, I want you to open it now to have enough time to play with it before we head out,” he said.)

Scott showed me his Touch at dinner last night, and it further cemented my resolution to get one. Hurrah for things going excitingly well and friends conspiring! And further to the stars-aligning thing, I found a classified listing for someone selling a few-months-old top-model Mac Mini with eighteen months of warranty left on it, for less than the base model I was saving up to buy new. We talked, we clicked, and he took his ad down. HRH and I are heading out Tuesday night to look it over and pick it up if all is as it should be. And so my transition to Mac will be complete! (Once we ascertain that my ergo keyboard and my compact mouse are recognized by the Mac, that is. If they’re not HRH will bring me an Apple set home from work, as they have boxes of used ones taking up space.) I am resisting my desire to connect the Touch to my computer and start loading it with exciting things, because I don’t want to brick it. I’m waiting for the Mac Mini, under the admittedly naive belief that two Apple products will play together better than an Apple and a PC.

Now I am looking out the window disapprovingly at the gathering clouds. We’re meeting a small number of friends at the park for a picnic, and if it rains I will be very displeased indeed. Especially since I have enough Thai noodle salad here to feed a small army. Also, if I cannot show off my shiny new toy I will pout.

Forty-Nine Months Old!

Big things this past month have been taking the GO train into Toronto and the TTC subway for the first time, and taking pictures. He wanders off with the camera any chance he gets. And about a third of his pictures are actually usable, to. I may put together a Boy Photographer post at some point. He took pictures of me playing my cello one day, and if he hadn’t fiddled with the settings and turned the dial to Movie he’d have had some excellent shots. Even with the Movie setting on, if he’d kept the camera on me instead of winging it crazily around the room it might have worked. We may keep our eyes out for a decent low-end camera for him — not one of the kids’ ones, those are terrible, but one that won’t die if dropped. That’s my biggest fear right now, because he’s come close to smashing it against something a couple of times, and I really don’t feel like replacing my digital camera for the second time in three years, thanks.

To everyone’s surprise, he had a very negative reaction to his first pool experience this summer. He loved it last year, and splashed around while holding on to whatever adult was with him. But this year, his teacher went into the pool with him at preschool when the weather finally warmed up enough to do so, and he shrieked and cried. He explained later that it was cold, but we think this was shorthand for “I’m a year older and I know bad things can happen and while I trust my teacher that’s a lot of water, there. Oh, and it’s also a bit chilly.”

He is thoroughly in love with the Animaniacs. My work here is done.

After months of on-again-off-again suggesting it, we finally got around to reading Ursula LeGuin’s Catwings series, and he is in love. He also really enjoyed the Brambly Hedge stories, but the Catwings are his favourites among the new books.

The very last guppy finally went to the big aquarium in the sky, so we took a trip to the local pet shop and bought three sturdy polka-dot mollies. We tried to convince him that a small school of neons would be awesome, but he wanted the spotty mollies, so the spotty mollies he got. “What will you call them?” the salesman said as he decanted them into a bag. “Um, I don’t know,” said the boy. “Well, my name’s JF, if you wanted to call one after me,” the salesman said, which amused us. The boy amused us even more when he eagerly said, “Yeah, yeah — I’ll call them all JF!”

Gryffindor has taken to racing into the boy’s room when it’s bedtime, throwing himself on top of the bed and flopping over with great force, looking up at us with an expression that says, “I am so heavy you cannot possibly pick me up to toss me out.” After the story has been read and the light has been turned out for the snuggle part of the bedtime ritual Gryff often stomps up the bed, purring loudly, and thumps into the boy or I lovingly. Sometimes the boy wants him to cuddle some more, but usually he says as I leave, “I don’t want Gryff to stay.” Especially since the night he had to shoo the cat away from the tank and those shiny plump new fish. Very traumatizing. When I go in to check on him last thing before I go to bed, adjusting covers and turning off the music and opening or closing windows, Gryff often pushes his way in with me and leaps up on to the bed, finding a cosy nook to do some intense snuggling and purring before I shoo him out again. It makes us feel good to know that Gryff chooses to play and be with the boy. Even Nixie is allowing him to pet her gently when he finds her, an unforeseen turn that the boy recognizes as being extremely special.

“Are these bad guy socks?” he asked when he put on a pair of Transformer socks the other day. Very important to know when you’re four. It sets the tone for the entire day, you see.

Other boy-themed posts:

Rocking out with the new Rock Band set
The trip to Nana and Grandad’s house
The grand finale to the Week of Birthday

In Which She Successfully Subverts A New Generation

I bought the first season of the Animaniacs yesterday.

This is something I’d intended to do for a while, but never got around to it. Then Tamu passed her Dot t-shirt on to me at the Canada Day BBQ (there’s a long story here about how there was one of these shirts left for sale at Nebula, just before I started working there, and the day I went in to buy it Tamu had purchased it; fifteen years later she has been weeding out her wardrobe and remembered I loved this shirt, so passed it along to me in pretty much perfect condition to use as a sleep shirt, yay!) and the boy saw me wearing it and asked who the cute creature in the graphic was. So I tried to explain the Animaniacs to him. Anyone who has seen the Animaniacs knows that such an explanation is doomed. So I resolved to pick up a season of the show, because it was rather wrong that I didn’t own any.

The boy was initially disappointed — I told him I’d picked up a surprise and he must have thought it was something he’d asked for. “But I don’t want this, I didn’t ask for it,” he said, on the verge of tears. HRH had a little talk with him about how nice it was of me to buy him a present, and how I wanted to share something fun that I liked with him. So he said we could put the first disc in. Initially he sat as far away from the television as he could and was a bit bemused, but gradually I saw him move closer to the TV, and then he really got into it. “I love the Animanaics, they’re my favourite movie!” he exclaimed somewhere around the end of the first episode. “Is there more?” Oh, oh yes, my son. There is lots more.

In fact, we finished the first disc last night, staying up an hour later than his usual bedtime to do so (“Just one more, Mama, please, please?”). He curled up on my lap and rested his head on my shoulder, determined to see it through to the end. “Hey, I have him!” he said at one point, pointing to Yakko, and he’s right. Once upon a time when Tal, t! and I were throughly immersed on the Animanaics, finding a delightful parallel between the three characters and our own personalities (oh, the song sessions in various cars on various trips!) Tal found stuffed toys of each character and presented the appropriate one to each of us. When Liam was born he passed his Yakko along to him. Until now, Liam’s never really been interested in it, but that should change around nap time today. (I think my Dot is still in a box. I shall remedy that.)

I am charmed by the fact that the boy crawled into bed with me this morning and asked to watch the Animaniacs instead of his regular Friday-at-home-with-Mum cartoons. Why, yes, yes you can, my son. Muah-hah-hah.

This is also slightly bittersweet for me because the only video I had of the show was a best-of complied for me by Emru. I lost the video in the last move (although I’m sure it’s somewhere in a box that hasn’t been opened in a while) and our VCR died anyhow, so we wouldn’t have been able to watch it. But I’ll always associate the Animaniacs with him as well as Tamu, Tal, and t! — a noble host indeed. When the series was first released on DVD Emru tried to get a review copy for me through fps, but it didn’t materialize. I did get to review the first season of Pinky & the Brain, though, which was an acceptable consolation prize. It has still never been quite right that I own a season of that, but not the Animaniacs.)

Today we’re bound for the EcoMuseum, and I’m going to sneak my three Animaniacs CDs into the car as another surprise. Whee!

In Which She Discovers Subtlety And Hidden Meaning

So I just hit the one-third mark in the manuscript on this oh so exciting voyage through second draft. Slog, slog, slog. O motivation, where art thou?

And then out of nowhere, I found Hidden Meaning in something one of my secondary protagonists says. When I wrote it, I just meant for him to be talking about the main protagonist’s situation. But lo, upon this rereading, I have realized he’s talking about himself and his own situation as well. What’s even better is that the protagonist replies to him about her own situation — she has no idea about his health issue at this point — and could very well be describing his own denial anyway.

“Stop trying to tell me I’m right to be so upset.”

“You have every right.” He stood his cello case in the corner of the entry hall and pulled off his jacket. “But it sounds to me like you’re already telling yourself it’s okay to lose.”

“Well, yeah. That’s the point.”

“But it isn’t.” He turned at looked at her, hard. “She’s come out of nowhere and is trying to take something that belongs to you, for whatever reason. Don’t give up before you’ve even stood up to defend what’s yours.”

“Don’t you get it? I’m trying to trick myself.” Clare dropped her own jacket on the landing, grabbed the viola case, and walked away from him into the living room. “If I pretend I don’t care, I can play properly. If I admit that I do care, I can’t concentrate.”

I would like to take this as proof that I know what I’m doing, but if it happens without me planning it, I can’t call it genius; it’s more likely to be a lucky coincidence. I should credit my subconscious instead. Apparently it’s both craftier and smarter than I am.