Monthly Archives: April 2004

Meandering

Every couple of weeks I try to do something to the Owldaughter website to keep it current. I’ve just finished posting a whack of spiritual stuff which you can check out if you’re interested, on the new Believe page, which also has links to the second page and the spiritual articles. I learned how to use anchor tags today. (Thanks again for my new HTML book, Ceri!)

I have the front and back windows wide open, letting the incredibly warm wind through to air out the house. All the cats are plastered against the screens, wildly sniffing the outdoor smells.

Now it’s lunchtime, and then I’ll sit down with my chapter-by-chapter outline of my book and expand everything in point form. Who knows what I’ll discover belongs in which chapter.

Witches Weekly: Spring

Last night’s barbecue reminded me that Witches Weekly asked spring-related questions which I haven’t yet answered.

What do you take as the first sign of spring’s arrival?

The first warm breeze; the change in the light quality; the appearance of potted hyacinths in the supermarkets, and their subsequent appearance on my mantelpiece at home. Mmm… love the smell of hyacinths.

The confirmation of spring is the first barbecue!

Do you plan to take on any new personal activities/duties this spring? If so, what?

Usually in spring I choose to drop an activity. It’s part of my unofficial spring cleaning process: I clear out the stuff that doesn’t benefit me any more, things I’m clinging to just because.

What’s the first word that comes to mind when you hear “Spring?”

Depends on what time of year I hear it. If it’s any time in winter, it’s “Please.” If it’s mid-to late-March, it’s a phrase: “Thank God.” I live in Montreal, the Land of Extreme Temperatures, sub-arctic to sub-tropical. By the time spring rolls around, we’re all heartily sick of winter. (And yes, the opposite is true by the end of summer.)

Pride

Our level 3 students led a fabulous ritual yesterday, aided by four brave level 2 students. My new favourite must-have ritual tool is a shredder. (You just had to be there.)

I enjoyed the afternoon immensely. For once I wasn’t stressed out about packing too much into the day, so I could relax and actually appreciate the school ritual. Before the rit, I was cornered by two of my level 3s so that they could apologise for the chaos of the oils & incense class two weeks ago. I tried to reassure them, reminded them that I was ill that weekend, pointed out that there’s a reason why making oils and incenses are supposed to be held in two separate classes; but they insisted that no, the class as a whole has to remember that the teachers have a ton of information that we’re trying to get across to them in a limited amount of time, and that class isn’t a social event or a place to kick back and relax. By the end, they had convinced me. (They weren’t going to take no as an answer anyway, so it’s a good thing I agreed.)

See, I believe that class does have a social aspect to it, and that it is a time to relax a bit while being focused. However, these students do have an excellent point: there has to be a balance between the enjoyable aspect and the discipline and respect necessary to work within a time frame and with educators.

So I’m very proud of all of my students this weekend, for a variety of reasons. My Saturday class hit upon a comprimise that allowed them to participate within discussion of modern religion at last, and it was fantastic; the ritual was marvellous; and there were several private exchanges on Sunday afternoon that impressed me with how mature and determined my students are.

And after it all, I got to spend a wonderful evening with my husband’s family. No one barbecues inch-thick pork chops with homemade sauce like my father-in-law!

58 meters! i think i like the open road…

Tuesday, March 9:

almost to bonneville. i’ve now driven 314 meters, and i’m finally getting into some interesting terrain. lots of rocks. it’s getting kind of steep, too. if i fall over i know i’m never going to hear the end of it.

who can recommend some good ‘cresting the rim of a crater’ music? nasa’s selections are getting kind of weird…

Yes, it’s the Spirit Rover LJ. Riotous.

Neil Stephenson and Satin Spike Heels

It’s been a while since I updated my reading list. I’m now enjoying Zodiac, a vintage Neil Stephenson. I really like his early work. I’m the only person I know who’s read The Big U.

I’m currently munching rice cakes. While people might surmise that this might have something to do with shaping up my physique for my annual body-skimming superhero costume, it’s nothing so health- (or fashion-) conscious: I just like the little spiced styrofoam disks. I’m weird that way.

Speaking of superhero costumes, I found the wickedest red satin spike heels with ribbon lacing today at the Le Chateau outlet. I also found the perfect top and skirt to kit-bash to make my costume, which I will pick up when the bank thaws my money at the beginning of May. (Yes, “thaws;” Ceri and t! came up with the term as an alternative to “unfreezes”). Hey, if it cuts down on the amount of sewing I have to do, and the cost ends up being approximately the same as material plus sewing-machine hours would be, I’m all for pre-fab costume elements. I’ll actually be picking up two skirts, one to wear and the other for extra material to with which to do other nifty costume stuff. Everything will require modification, but modification will take significantly less time than kit-bashing a pattern and sewing it from scratch.

The shoes are just so damn funky. The heels are hilarious. The idea of me in spike heels just makes me giggle helplessly, especially woven satin spike heels with ribbon lacing all the way up the calf. I’ll never wear them again, but for nine bucks, I couldn’t resist.

By the way, go to CBC’s Great Canadians contest and vote. Canadians are cool. Molson says so, but we knew the truth long before the commercials told everyone else, didn’t we.

Orchestral Confessions

It appears that I only hate Strauss when I can’t play it. Once I’m comfortable with a Strauss piece, and I can settle into the rhythm of it, it’s actually fun to play. The only problem with it now is holding the celli back – we keep wanting to spin the waltz faster to keep it moving!

I’m also guilty of being very pleased that the incredibly disturbing individual who sits behind me hasn’t been to rehearsal in two weeks. It upsets me that he affects my enjoyment of playing with the orchestra so much. He’s a bit hyper, and he can’t stop talking; he also plays too loud. Three rehearsals ago he drove me right to the edge, forcing me to grit my teeth through the first half. I couldn’t hear anything but his voice and his mishandling of the rhythm and dynamics. When Douglas called break, his cello was down and he was out like a shot for his cigarette. My old stand partner turned around and smiled at me, asked me how I was, and I did something I rarely do with acquaintances: I said, “If he doesn’t stop talking, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to turn around and plunge my bow right into his chest.”

“Qu’est-ce-qu’elle a dit?” our principal cellist asked. My stand partner relayed the information, laughing, and the principal turned around to look at me and say with all sincerity, “And I will sharpen your bow.”

It wasn’t nice, but it felt good to know that others were just as fed up as I was.

Now, I know that words have power. They hurt, or they heal. Sometimes, though, words have to come out so that they stop hurting you. And yes, he hasn’t been at rehearsal for the past two weeks now. No one has said anything, but I know that we’re all relieved. And the dynamics are better, both musically and otherwise.