October 21, 2008

Slacks for Ella Funt

I am very excited, as this weekend I get to discover if my new sewing machine works. I picked it up at a yard sale about a month ago for $10, but have no clue how to use it, so am not sure if I wasted my money or not (credit crunch). However, a sewing savvy friend is going to give me lessons Saturday, and then after we’re going out to our local Hungarian to commemorate the 52nd anniversary of the Hungarian Revolution. An exciting Saturday is destined then, though I am still not sure what kind of useless cloth item it is I am going to (dare I dream?) create.

What I really want to do make is slacks for Ella Funt:

Ramona tugged and tugged at Ella Funt’s slacks, but no matter how hard she tugged she could not make them come up to the elephant’s waist, or to what she guessed was the elephant’s waist. Ella Funt’s bottom was too big, or the slacks were too small. At the same time, the front of the slacks seemed way too big. They bunched under Ella Funt’s paunch. Ramona scowled.
Mrs. Quimby considered Ella Funt and her slacks. “Well,” she said after a moment. Slacks for an elephant are very hard to make. I’m sure I couldn’t do it.”

Ramona could not scowl any harder. “I like to do hard things.”

October 13, 2008

My turn for Whats and Whys

Rebecca Rosenblum ponders why she reads the books she reads, the last ten books she has read specifically, concluding that reading is social, however solitary in practice. Her post inspiring Naya V. to consider some of her own bookish choosings. And inspiring me as well, though findings may not be so revelatory as I’ve written here about how I came to some of these already. Nevertheless.

• Forms of Devotion by Diane Schoemperlen (now reading), because Rebecca Rosenblum gave it to me for my birthday and now it is time.
• The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard, because it was a paperback portable for vacation, and because it came recommended via the impeccable taste of Rona Maynard.
• The Boys in the Trees by Mary Swan, also because it was a paperback. Because it was longlisted and shortlisted for the Giller. Because it was Rona-recommended, and recommended by Maud Newton and Stephany Aulenback as well. (Oh, and now by me too. This is the best book I’ve read in ages).
• Between Friends: A Year in Letters by Oonagh Berry and Helen Levine. I picked this up at the Victoria College book sale not just because it was a collection of correspondence but because reading a newspaper feature when the book came out inspired me to embark upon a similar writing project with my friend Bronwyn.
• Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott, because I wanted to all the books on the Giller list by women (which was easy as there were only two).
• Flowers for Mrs. Harris by Paul Gallico. Also bought at the book sale, and I was originally attracted by the gorgeous (only slightly damaged) pink dust jacket, and then I remembered that I’d read writer Justine Picardie raving about this novel on her blog.
• What It Feels Like for a Girl by Jennica Harper. Jennica is my favourite poet, and her first book The Octopus kept me up all hours the first time I read it, and so naturally I would read her new book the second I could get my mitts upon it.
• Babylon Rolling by Amanda Boyden. I don’t remember why I read this book at all, perhaps for no real reason, which is probably the reason I was so surprised to love it.
• When Will There by Good News? by Kate Atkinson. Um, because Kate Atkinson wrote it. And everything she touches is gold– except for Emotionally Weird, but I’ve forgiven/forgotten already. Everything else though.
• The Diving Bell and Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby. My spectacular Amy Winehouse costume won me this book as a prize at an Oscar Party back in the winter, but I hadn’t got around to reading it. My husband had, however, and was obsessed with it, and insisted that I read it too, and it was as wonderful as he promised. And now we can finally rent the movie.

September 13, 2008

Oishi-desu, ne?

In Japan, one lives to eat, or at least one travels to eat, for every city or region is famed for some kind of delicacy which must be indulged in on a visit. (In our city Himeji, it was conger eel.)

It is also important that when you do travel someplace, to bring back omiyage— a (n often edible) souvenir– for friends and co-workers back home. It is a slight not do so, and every city– and the train station in particular– will have numerous gift shops full of such delights.

When we lived in Japan, I had a co-worker whose boyfriend was working in the city of Nagoya, and she’d often go to visit him on her days off. And though her visits were quite regular, she never dared an omiyage lapse, and she would usually bring us back uiro— the snack for which Nagoya is famed. Uiro is a sweet snack of pounded rice, loaded with sugar. It comes in a block that appears kind of waxy, has a consistency not dissimilar to cheese, and I love it. I am a uiro glutton, which was fine as most people were unable to get past its strange appearance and texture, so there was always plenty for me. I still keep an eye out for it in the Asian shops around the city, but not a sign of it have I seen.

Last month before our neighbours left for their trip to Japan, I’d asked if they’d be going to Nagoya. I was being a bit flippant– their trip would be a whirlwind, wedding and honeymoon all in one– and really I just wanted a chance to reminisce about the pleasures of uiro. But I should have known– Japanese people take omiyage very seriously, and any kind thing a Japanese person has ever done for me has been mindblowingly beyond the call of duty.

They got back this week, and we were hanging out in the backyard last night when I was presented a box of uiro. It turns out that their shinkansen had passed through Nagoya, making a brief stop. My neighbour asked the attendant how long the stop would be, and she said one minute and a half. My neighbour tells his wife, he’s going to chance it. He says that if he doesn’t get back on, he’ll take the next train and meet her at the end of the line. But he makes it. In 90 seconds, he managed to buy my heart’s desire, get back on the train, solidifying all suspicions I’d ever had regarding his superheroism. As well as his wife’s patience, their generosity and all-around infinite goodness.

So we’re savouring the uiro at the moment. Tiny slices, we want to make it last. What a fabulous surprise! It’s as good as I remembered.

September 9, 2008

Once in the world

“I think,” writes Rebecca Rosenblum, of the moment she first saw her book, “once in a while, something can be exactly as good as you dreamt it would be.”

Rebecca’s story collection Once is now out in the world, and we spotted it yesterday in a stack at the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival. I bought a copy immediately, and soon after had the great pleasure of listening to Rebecca read from the first story “ContEd”. Pleasure even in spite of the rain, because Rebecca read so beautifully. She even made the sun came out, and so for the rest of day we were dry.

Afterwards, we saw every author I was hoping to see as noted in the post below. And also Dennis Lee, who didn’t seem to remember me from the time he came to my school when I was five.

• Click here to buy Rebecca’s book. She is not the kind of writer I promote because she’s my friend, but rather because she’s the kind of writer so talented I can’t quite believe that she’s my friend. Once should stocked in the shops by some time next week.
• Attend Rebecca’s launch if you can. Monday September 15, 2008 at 7:00. The Gladstone Hotel, Toronto.

September 5, 2008

Eden Mills & Weekend

We’ve got a packed weekend here, with three (3!) social engagements tomorrow: out for brunch, friends for tea (with a baby!) and then a friend for dinner.

On Sunday I’m off for the day to the Eden Mills Writers Festival with Rebecca Rosenblum. I am looking forward to hearing Rebecca read (from her forthcoming book, out in over a week), and other writers too, including Shari Lapena, Janice Kulyk Keefer, Mariko Tamaki, Susan Juby and Leon Rooke. Looking forward also to the announcement of the winner of the 2008 Literary Contest, particularly as my short story “Still Born Friends” is on the shortlist!

September 5, 2008

Coach House Open House

I love Coach House. They keep publishing books I really want to buy and then love reading, which I think is a mark of achievement for an independent press. Tonight we attended the Coach House Open House tonight over on bpNichol Lane, and we had more fun than you think we would have standing around a parking lot. And not just because there were food and bevvies, or because there was a tour and a chance to see the printing press in action. And not just because we got to see Crissy Calhoun, Ivor Tossell and Julie Wilson either. And not even because we got take advantage of the book sale. (I bought The Girls Who Saw Everything.) But I would probably say that the fun was most definitely a culmination of all these things.

August 27, 2008

Schedules Amok

Schedules are all running strangely of late, because we have a house guest, because she arrived in the middle of the night Sunday night, because we keep going out for meals with her and feel as though we’re on vacation too. I’m currently rereading A Prayer for Owen Meany and just not getting into it. I always loved John Irving, but I’ve not read him for years, and I feel I may have lost the habit. It’s also looong and I am eager to get through it in order to reach my final reread (The Long Secret), and then begin to tackle the wonderful stack of unread books on my shelf that have been gathering there since the end of June.

And so I’ve made no time for writing these last few days (here or anywhere) and consequently we’ll all have to make due to with links. Oh, like Lizzie Skurnick revisits Flowers in the Attic. Nigel Beale refuses the Refuses. Laurel Snyder interviewed at Baby Got Books (and I’ll be reading her book v.v. soon). Why postscripts still matter in the digital age. Rebecca Rosenblum is a Reader Reading (and now she’s got her own Facebook group too).

August 5, 2008

This Weekend for Me

This weekend for me was four days long, and it was filled with ordinary lovely things like reading and writing, a haircut, dinner out and trip to the movies. Plenty of book buying, a lovely brunch with Moms, peach-pie baking and finding out our good friends are having a bebe! A trip to the ROM, bbqs a plenty, and then today to Toronto Island with the Caserights, and we had a splendid picnic under a tree, went paddling, and then Stuart and I rode our bikes from Wards’ to Hanlan’s Point, and home again, and now we’re absolutely knackered.

This weekend, without consciously intending to, I continued my Westness pick with a rereading of The Stone Angel. So glad to reacquaint myself, so appreciative of my recent reading of Lilac Moon for historical context, but I do think that Laurence’s skills as a novelist increased exponentially with the rest of the Manawaka series. Which, I’d think, is the most we could ask of a writer. And then more Westness with Sharon Butala’s collection of short stories Real Life, which is oh-so solid. And then The Killing Circle, which wasn’t West at all, but it kept me from falling asleep last night due to a) terror and b) I couldn’t stop reading. Review to follow… I’m now rereading Late Nights on Air.

July 28, 2008

This is a photograph

As in Atwood’s poem, “This is a photograph of me”: “The photograph was taken the day after I drowned./ I am in the lake, in the center of the picture, just under the surface…” Except that I didn’t drown, and I am just left of centre, but this is a photograph of me and I am in the lake, with Stuart. We’ve been away all weekend with our friends Bronwyn and Alex, who were kind enough to share their cottage and the BMW to take us there. And the weekend was such an adventure!

We saw two frogs, three hummingbirds, a snake(!), and lots of minnows. The cottage was cottage-perfect, full of thirty years of fantastic family history. The weather was sometimes good, and often terrible. This meant a massive thunderstorm knocked out our power and so we had to live as our ancestors did, conserving freezer-door openings in order not to hasten the ice cream’s melting. Luckily we had a bbq at our disposal, and the beer stayed cold, and after the storm the sun came out, and we went swimming and canoeing. As the sun went down, we made do with candlelight, and played Apples to Apples late into the evening, and then went outside to be ravished with stars.

We made an obligatory cheese factory stop, and bought a bag of curds and then went in and bought another. We spent plenty of time reading (and I writing!), and, of course, eating. Obligatory watermelon too, and we all pretended not to be terrified when the storm came, when the hail fell from the sky like wrath unfurled. We cheered when the sun came, and cursed it when it left. We also took 85 pictures, because we have a new camera at our house (exciting!). I gave up a lifelong passion for frog-catching because Stuart said it was cruel. We bathed in bug spray, and braved cold water, sang “Boom didi yada”. The power came back on this afternoon.

July 25, 2008

Oh, we do love love

Oh, we do love love here at Pickle Me This. The true kind, the dream-come-true kind. We love perfect couples and wonderful friends, and how exciting then, to get to celebrate all of this. Because my friend Paul, he of the years of steadfastness, the life-saving, the infinite goodness (and besides if it weren’t for him, I would never have met my husband) has asked the remarkable Hannah to marry him. And smart girl she is, she said yes. Hannah, who I adored from the second we met, and, selfishly, I must admit that I’m also excited because this means I get to be friends with her forever too. They are a perfect couple, so wonderful together and oh so happy. What a spectacular beginning now, and here’s to brilliant days ahead.