Mailbox Joy!

The next best thing to getting money in the mail is getting books in the mail.

The Game (Diana Wynne Jones)
Pride and Prescience (Carrie Bebris)
Good Enough (Paula Yoo)
The Tower Room (Adele Geras)
Pictures Of The Night (Adele Geras)
A Companion to Wolves (Sarah Monette and Elizabeth Bear)
Old Man’s War (John Scalzi)
The Ghost Brigades (John Scalzi)
The Last Colony (John Scalzi)
The Android’s Dream (John Scalzi)

I recently read Old Man’s War and The Ghost Brigades and had to own them, along with the other two available from the place I bought them, because I anticipate rereading them often. But everything else will be a first-time read, and I’ve been waiting for some of them for a while. They’re mostly hardcover, too. I love Bookcloseouts.com.This is the first non-necessity I’ve bought for myself in a while, and certainly the first set of books that wasn’t purchased with a gift certificate in months.

Back to work.

In Which She Drags Herself To The Computer

Not dead. I wish I was (or rather, I have wished I was for a variety of reasons over the past five days but not at this precise moment), but no, I am not actually dead. I’m in a lot of pain, which is annoying and has been wearing down my patience and ability to deal with basic everyday things; I haven’t been sleeping; and the boy and I have had gastro. But today is a new day and we sent him off to preschool, and our fingers are crossed that everything goes well. Yesterday was an excellent day in which there were no bodily upsets and he ate and slept well, but you never know. And I only found out this morning when I called to let the director know he was on his way that there’s a kid waiting for surgery who can’t come into contact with any possible illness or the surgery has to be rescheduled. That would have been a good thing to know before we sent him in; I might have kept him home an extra day just to be positive. Except not knowing this plus my climbing the walls and increasing pile of backed-up work meant I really needed him to go in today.

Bah.

Today is St Patrick’s Day, and the boy is dressed in a new green t-shirt we picked up for him on Saturday and he looks great. They will be talking about Ireland at school today, and the boy has been reminded that he can tell them about the goddess Brigid, whom he learned all about at the little witchling circle (as one of the leaders calls it), as they probably don’t know about her. He was reviewing what he knew while he got ready to go: “She lives in water ( “And fire,” I interjected) and we throw pennies to her (they’d been told throwing pennies into water and making a wish was a form of communicating with the goddess, so now he tosses pennies into the mall fountains and shouts, “Thank you Brigid!”), and she has white skin and red hair, and she takes care of us when we’re sick and helps us get better.” I can only imagine how garbled that will come out at the other end, and how politely confused the teachers will be.

What lovely sun out there.

Evidently even when I am ill I can still make a kick-ass onion soup and chicken pot pie. The secret? Christmas dinner, and the absolutely fabulous turkey soup it made. I used a small container of the frozen turkey-heavy soup as the base for the cream sauce over the chopped chicken, and wow, it was spectacular. I’m still very confused as to why I wanted to make them when the idea of food had been turning my stomach all day, but they were delicious even in the tiny quantity I ate.

You know, the front staircase is like the bathroom: It doesn’t matter how often I sweep it, it’s dirty again immediately afterwards. On the bright side, the snow’s almost all gone in the front yard, and there’s only a thin layer left in the back. No snow and less mud can only make things better.

I read the entire stack of library books I brought home last Thursday by Sunday night. I resorted to rereading Anne of Avonlea yesterday while the boy napped.

Today: Yoga, then reviewing the final submissions for the anthology (yay!), reviewing edits/rewrites of the first round of essays, sending contracts for the ones that are done, and then I get to start playing with a new order of the fifty stories. And work some more on a scintillating, insightful, poignant introduction. I would love to hand this in early.

Forty-Five Months Old!

And only three to go before the big four years old. I have been informed that there is to be another Totoro cake. Duly noted. Also noted is the likelihood of the cake theme changing according to almost-four-year-old whim.

Someone brought home a medal from the annual preschool Olympics. They don’t give coloured medals out any more (“Because,” the director told HRH, “you would not believe how competitive they get.” “The kids?” said HRH, astonished. “No, the parents,” she said darkly. “You’re really laid back about this.”) but the director oh-so-casually pointed out that someone’s medal was strung on a gold ribbon. Apparently he’s giving the five year olds a run for their money. It’s not that he’s a conscious overachiever, he just throws himself so completely and totally into everything he does and does it with enthusiasm and energy. February was winter Olympics month at preschool, complete with preschool-geared Olympic events in which everyone participated. As HRH has a multitude of Canadian flags Liam volunteered to bring one, which meant he got to carry it in the little parade. I hope someone got pictures.

There’s a new assistant at preschool. She was helping him into his coat yesterday when he reached out and stroked her hair, saying, “You have really soft hair, like my mama’s, except hers is curly.” To which the teachers at preschool, and I when I heard it, all said, “Awwww.”

Porco Rosso was the new film he discovered this month, thanks to a deal he has going with Scott. Liam asked if we could borrow The Cat Returns from their collection, and Scott said only if he could borrow Cars and/or WALL*E and/or Ratatouille, as he and Ceri hadn’t seen them. Liam thought about it and decided they could borrow Cars and Ratatouille, but not WALL*E. Which makes sense, since it’s the newest one and he’s still a little protective of it. (Although we are personally stunned at his decision to let Cars out of the house.) Then he decided he had to go over to their house in person to effect the trade, which was fun because he ran around and around the central part of the house, and with Scott explored the little section at the top of the stairs where the boards lift right out of the floor to reveal a little hidey-hole. He also decided that he’d have to go back and watch Cars with Scott on the huge television they have set up in the basement. When we told him it was time to go he declared that he wanted to stay forever and ever, which was very sweet indeed, and quite remarkable because the cats wouldn’t have anything to do with him.

He seems to have developed a thing about food touching on his place, and sauces actually on things instead of being used as dips. And his big quirk right now is smelling things. “Can I smell it?” he’ll ask if we show him something new or put a plate of food down in front of us at the table. This applies to non-edible items as well like books, cameras, toys, clothes, pieces of paper, and so forth.

Puzzles are the current toy of obsession. He throws them together impressively quickly. He found an envelope of about six twenty-piece puzzles from a book that had gone AWOL, which had no reference pictures, and zipped through them. He also asked for black chalk the other day while drawing on his easel. HRH explained that people didn’t really use black chalk all that often, because you wouldn’t be able to see it on the chalkboard, and got a flat stare as a reply. Emo Preschooler Requires Black Chalk To Express Himself, we thought.

Books this month included yet more train books from the library, in particular an impressive pop-up one with stations and trestles and all sorts of things. And he went through all three of them plus his own Eyewitness train book and pointed out the Rocket in each of them, being very pleased to be able to match them up, too. The other awesome book discovery was Roald Dahl’s The Enormous Crocodile. Hilarious when you are on the verge of four, and so enjoyed that I’ll have to pick a copy up to own. I finally remembered that I owned the four Catwings books, so those are lined up for the next few weeks of bedtime stories because they’re the perfect balance of text and illustration, followed by the Brambly Hedge books. (In my defence, they had been moved about a year ago to a shelf which had space on it, as opposed to a shelf with other children’s books or a display shelf as they’d been kept for years.)

The new word he’s proudest of is “enormous.” Totoro is enormous! The Death Star is enormous! Our new house will be enormous! Dirigibles are enormous! If Gryff grew, he’d be enormous! The sandwich I want for dinner must be enormous! The rainforest is enormous! He’s playing with words and letters and nonsense syllables a lot, which is fun to listen to. The preschool director sent him home with five Eyewitness books and a dictionary the other day, because they didn’t have room for them any more and she knows he loves books. We may not have the room for them either, but we’ll never say no. Knowing that he loves books, loves sounds and words and illustrations, is more than enough of a pay-off. We’ll always find room for what he loves.

Spring Concert Announcement!

Yes, gentle readers, the time has come again to make plans to attend the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra spring concert! Every spring we present a lively and soul-uplifting concert to celebrate the arrival of the season, and for your entertainment we have prepared a challenging programme.

So circle Saturday the 28th of March on your calendars! At 19h30 in the Valois United Church in Pointe-Claire (70 Belmont Ave., between King and Queen), the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra will present their spring concert, featuring the following works:

    Vivaldi – Concerto Op 3 No 7 for four violins and strings
    Beethoven – Symphony No 1
    Mendelssohn – Hebrides Overture – op 26 (Fingal’s Cave)
    Bizet – L’Arlesienne Suite No 1
    Rimsky Korsakov – Scheherezade Movement #3, ‘The Young Prince and Princess’

Admission is $10 per person; admission is free for those under 18 years of age. The concerts usually last approximately two hours, including the refreshment break. There are driving directions and public transport info on the church website, linked above. I usually encourage people who are vehicle-less to find someone who has a car and share the cost of the driver’s admission to the concert among them. It’s more fun to enjoy the evening in the company of others, after all.

We’re working with a series of guest conductors this season, and our guest leader for this upcoming evening is Kari Keiser, an energetic woman whose work we have been enjoying very much. She’s drawing passionate and nuanced music out of us, and we’re really looking forward to presenting it to you.

In Which She Rocks, With Awesomesauce

As everyone who was not me predicted, the workshop was a success.

Avalon Naturel, the meeting space in which I gave the workshop, has a wonderfully welcoming and comforting energy. I learned that the Avalon regulars are as equally comforting and welcoming. There were, to my astonishment (and, yes, initial panic) over twenty people crowded into the single room, some in chairs around the edges, some on mats on the floor. And they talked, bless them; they responded when I tossed questions and discussion topics out, for which I was heartily thankful, because nothing kills a workshop quicker than attendees who don’t respond. Respond these excellent people did; I had people talking to me throughout the break and afterwards, telling me how much they’d learned, both beginners and experienced people assuring me that I was making sense to them, giving them new ways to think about things or the opportunity to share their own techniques and ideas. I loved it.

It went so well, as a matter of fact, that less than halfway through it I was already thinking about what I could give from my existing slate of workshops for them. I’d been tentatively sketching a pregnancy workshop, but one of the co-directors told me that the Avalonians tend to be of below or beyond childbearing age/mindset so there probably wouldn’t be much response. But the other co-director in attendance caught me after most people had left and proposed co-leading a workshop around Harvest, which got us both very excited as it expanded and evolved into two different things.

So yes: A success, and the Avalonians are going to have a hard time getting rid of me. We have an informal agreement for me to show up one evening next month for a kaffeeklatsch type of thing once the hearthcraft book is out, so people can buy the book and I can sign them and we can all talk about lots of stuff instead of just what we can cover on one subject in three hours. (I sold every one of my previous books I’d brought except one, and signed dozens more people owned and brought along with them. Good grief.)

I know I always feel better after I’ve given a workshop or class, which is part of what gets me through the prep and anxiety leading up to the event. Part of that post-workshop feeling is relief, part of it is the sense that I’ve accomplished something, and part of that is coming away with what the attendees have given to me in the form of energy and interaction and appreciation. I came away from this one feeling so much better than I’d expected to feel that I amused myself. And frankly, I just sat back and let myself enjoy it for the rest of the weekend.

Yesterday afternoon was my monthly group cello lesson, which was so much fun. I love the group lessons as a rule, but this one was particularly enjoyable. Only four out of seven students were there, and we played some really fun stuff which I essentially sight-read because I hadn’t had time to play it through after my teacher gave it to me last Tuesday (last week = work + workshop insanity + brain burnout). I and my stand partner spent a lot of time laughing, which felt moderately wicked. I pulled some very nice stuff off when the less-confident people dropped out along the way, and tripped myself in a couple of particular places every single time because I hadn’t prepared the shifts. Last night after the boy got ready for bed I set up my cello and told him a little story about a moonlit barnyard at midnight, when the barn door creaks open and two eyes peek out, and then a little chicken steps into the barnyard to move one foot, then another, and then… dances! At this point I played the Chicken Reel for him, and he kept telling the story on his own. It was fun. When he was in bed I kept working on some of those nasty shifts and working out fingerings for various group pieces, and he sang along in the dark. This morning he woke up singing again, and when I went in to cuddle him he threw his arms around me and asked if I’d had fun at my cello practise. I told him I had, and asked if he liked hearing it while he was in bed. He said he did quite enthusiastically and asked what songs they had been (which resulted in a discussion about Dona Nobis Pacem and Ave Verum Corpus at much-too-early-o’clock), so maybe I’ll do it more often. Being comfortable enough to play with everyone at home here and upstairs was a definite indicator of how good a mood I was in. I actually liked the sound I was producing, too. Wonders will never cease.

The weather this weekend certainly contributed to my excellent mood. It was so mild, and even sunny! When we went out on Sunday morning to do groceries and errands we all wore spring coats with shoes or rainboots. Lovely! So easy to move around; no huge parkas to fight with getting in and out of the car, no mitts to keep track of! We even cracked the sunroof open on the way home from lunch yesterday. And while logically I know that we all woke up on Sunday at the same time we always do, to roll over and look at the clock and see the numbers 7:24 there when one’s son trots in and climbs into bed to cuddle is psychologically very uplifting. (This morning was a bit harder, of course, as we were waking up what felt like an hour earlier, but meh, it’s an acceptable trade-off.) I spent most of the weekend going about with a somewhat silly grin on my face. It really highlighted how hard things have been these past few months for me due to a variety of reasons, some health-related, some psychological, some SAD, and other stuff going on. Doing a really big grocery order and taking the boys out to lunch thanks to the workshop renumeration helped the mood, too. So did paying off some of my Visa bill.

I had such a fabulous weekend that this morning has hit a little hard (beyond the waking-up-an-hour-earlier thing). I slept awfully last night, basically passing the entire night in a twilight half-awake state, and I’m having a very physically achy and stiff day. The ibuprofen hasn’t kicked in after an hour, so I suspect I shall have to take another. It’s one of the fibro-related repercussions of having a terrific weekend. It’s moderately unjust that I have to suffer for having a good weekend the same way I suffer after a bad one, but at least I have the momentum of the good mood to carry me.

Today: Anthology, anthology, anthology! The rest of the submissions from the first round of invitees came in this weekend plus some early ones of the second round, so I have a week of solid work ahead.

Fork, Please

This workshop’s as done as it’s going to get. (Yay for small children napping, even though we got back home late from a lovely visit that we didn’t want to end. I should probably wake him up or we’ll never get him to bed tonight.) What I do with these twenty-eight pages tomorrow in the actual execution of the workshop, well, that’s to be seen.

In other news, I killed the first spider of spring just now. It was the size of a looney and went ‘pop.’ Forget robins; it’s all about the damn spiders waking up. Brr.

In Which She Waves Farewell To Focus

We are at seventeen pages of workshop and we are stopping for the day, because hello, brain, where have you gone?

    BRAIN: La la la, I can’t hear you. Besides, I’m zonked. I gave you nine pages of workshop. Nine. That’s above and beyond. Also, I reorganised it all for you. I deserve a break.

    ME: But but but — I thought we had a thing. We were in synch! We were flying!

    BRAIN: Yeah, well, that was then. This is now. And my now consists of a demand for a piece of cake and some Eternal Sonata on the Xbox, kid.

    ME: We only have one more work day after today!

    BRAIN: Your point?

    ME: What if something goes wrong tomorrow?

    BRAIN: Kid, you have enough material to carry you for two hours. Factor in a break and some discussion, and you’re fine. Besides, I’m working on a meditation, but it’s still brewing. Two of ’em, actually, one for the symbol of the flame, and one for the cauldron.

    ME: Really?

    BRAIN: Yep.

    ME: That’s so sweet of you.

    BRAIN: I know. But it’s only gonna happen if you give me cake and Eternal Sonata.

    ME: I don’t know…

    BRAIN: Look. It’s feed me sugar and a really pretty video game, or wring the last drops of use out of me today and have me be nothing but a brick tomorrow. Fat lot of good that would do you.

    ME: Do you really think so?

    BRAIN: I know so.

    ME: Could we do something else? Something that feels less like skiving? Like, oh, practise the cello?

    BRAIN: Again? We did that twice yesterday, plus had a lesson. We’ve practised once already today. No, no cello for you.

    ME: Sorting through tax stuff, maybe?

    BRAIN: No, we did that on Monday. Not a lot of it, true, but even a bit is more than enough for a week like this.

    ME: You won’t be moved?

    BRAIN: Nope.

    ME: Fine. Have it your way. I give up. HRH is bringing beer home tonight because we’re both home to watch Bones, so maybe we’ll have that last glass of red wine I’ve been saving while we play.

    BRAIN: Wiktory!