November 29, 2005
Cool!
Stuart is so cool! He went shopping yesterday with his birthday money/gift certificates, and came home with two CDs that he knew I would like. We got Imogen Heap and the Fembots. They’re both really growing on me.
November 28, 2005
Let Us Solve Your Holiday Shopping Woes…
Why not buy everyone you know a copy of “Spring Comes Suddenly”? Each beautifully designed book is only $5. ~ It’s beautiful poetry, disciplined, accessible and concise~ Bradley Miller, National Newspaper Columnist and Shark-Poet.
Speaking of brilliant quotes, someone emailed this to me today (and I won’t identify them because I don’t want this wonderful person to get in trouble): “She may be a Christian but she’s still a great person!”
In book news, I finished “Snow” by Orhan Pamuk which was worthwhile, but too long to be my in-course-leisure book. After I read “The Finishing School” by Muriel Spark, which is small and beautiful and was devoured in just over a day. Now I am reading “Elizabeth Costello” by JM Coetzee, for a course I have next semester. In further news, my career as TA just finished, as I marked my last paper of the term. And Take That have reunited sans Robbie! I have been humming “Back for Good” all day (mostly because it’s the only Take That song I know, but it’s a good one). Oh yes, we only send out the most important news here at Pickle Me This. Like that Sonia from Eastenders is a lesbian next week!!
November 24, 2005
I am so grateful…
…for my friends and family, who have gone so far out of their way to ensure that Stuart’s birthday is special. He received so many wonderful gifts and cards. And we had a lovely birthday dinner out tonight with Erin, Jennie, Steve and Carolyn. And I feel so lucky to have friends that treat my husband so well, which I think might have more to do with his absolute goodness than their devotion to me, but all the same it’s so important to me.
… and to Stuart, who has just shared a third birthday with me. We spent the first in England, where I baked a cake that exploded in the oven. The second was in Thailand atop the Porn Ping Hotel, where I bought a cake with a monkey on it from the grocery store. I baked cupcakes this year, which almost proceeded without incident, until I didn’t have time to let the last batch cool and threw them all in the container, and they all got mushed and mangled, and I gave away the only one that wasn’t to a homeless man with one leg. He liked it though, and so did our friends. And I promise to bake a cake from scratch for you every year for always.
(Today we bought winter boots. The upside is that they were 2 for 1. The downside of course being that we now have the same boots.)
November 23, 2005
Knock Down Ginger?
Since March 15 2003 (and I know the date for a fact, because the issue was raised by this article), we at Pickle Me This have been embroiled (and our former roommate Matthew may also have been involved if I remember correctly) in a debate regarding the name of the activity wherein you knock on door only to run away, leaving the door’s owner to an empty front step. Zoe Williams in the Guardian called it “Knock Down Ginger”, while Stuart claimed it was called “Knock a Door Run.” But I knew it as “Nicky Nicky Nine Doors” which made even less sense than Zoe Williams’ suggestion. I was excited tonight to come across this article– a list of Canadian regionalisms of which number seven is:
7. Nicky Nicky Nine Doors/Knock On Ginger
The Canadian Oxford Dictionary team took it into their heads to ask Canadians the crucial question of what they called the activity of knocking on someone’s door and running away before the door is opened. It seems that mischievous young Ontarians call this “nicky nicky nine doors” whereas western pranksters call it “knock on (or down, or a-door) ginger.” Each group thinks the other’s name is ridiculous.
I am pleased this issue has been given the consideration it deserves by the dictionary people, though of course this doesn’t mean the debate is settled. Oh no it doesn’t.
November 22, 2005
Ursa Major, Asia Minor
I went to see Joan Didion last night, and tears came to my eyes as they always do whenever I’m in the presence of legendary people I’m in awe of. And I am in awe. She read a passage from “The Year of Magical Thinking” which if I was in the hardover-buying-income bracket I would own by now but alas. It was painful to hear, but also wonderful to hear because of her voice. And then there was an interview, which wasn’t particularly illuminating, but it was interesting, and she signed my copy of “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” (which I first read on a bullet train to Hiroshima in July 2004).
The Guardian revisits Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own. On the brilliantly readable Hilary Mantel.
I am writing an essay now, and have to mark papers all weekend. But tomorrow I will be feting it up for my beloved husband’s first Canadian birthday. I’ve got to bake him a cake. In other exciting news, we are planning a rather grand Christmas party. And I miss Brighton, Basford, Tokyo and Budapest all at the same time. Oh, and congratulations to the Lui/Doerings who became engaged Sunday night with all the ceremony one might expect from such an event.
November 21, 2005
Found
For your own sake read “OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKMARKS: FELLOW WANDERERS OF A FORGOTTEN REPUBLIC: IN WHICH WE CONSIDER THE LIVES OF STRANGERS BY WAY OF WHAT THEY LEAVE BEHIND IN BOOKS” because it’s wonderful. On what should really be on the Canadian Citizenship test. The great Ivor Tossell writes about uTOpia here and rather hilariously on instant messaging here. Jimmy Carter on America. And on freedom of speech.
We caught some of the Parade du Pere Noel today. It was lovely, though nobody mess with moms of toddlers who’ve been waiting since this morning to get a good seat. Other weekend highlights were dinner at Carolyn B’s in Thailand, and a visit from my sister. Now go read your books you silly woman.
November 16, 2005
Boom boom boom
Do you know the Eastenders drums? They only come in at pivotal moments, albeit at the end of every show. Your father who you thought was killed fourteen years ago walks into the room and says, “Hello Princess.” (boom boom boom) You’re just about to announce to the entire pub that you’re in love with your sister-in-law when your estranged wife returns after six months away (boom boom boom). You announce to that same pub that the father of the baby you miscarried was said Princess’s dead father, an icky icky old man. “You whot??” gasps your sister/mother (boom boom boom). Peggy Mitchell is getting strangled in the square when a range rover pulls in, and out jumps Billy, and then the long lost Grant (back from Rio) and Phil (freed from the nick). Boom boom boom indeed. We got another installment yesterday, and when the Mitchell brothers rolled back into Walford, I screamed at the fabulousness of it all.
But I want my own Eastenders drums. I want to carry them around with me, and bang them at all the appropriate times. “Kerry, I heard you’ve been talking about me behind my back”. (Boom boom boom). “Your analytical skills are virtually nil you little dunce you.” (Boom boom boom). Pricechopper cashier gives me my grocery total, and we’ve shopped twenty dollars over budget. (Boom boom boom boom boom). Eastenders drums would be every drama queen’s favourite accessory.
We woke up at six this morning, wide awake with furious winds rattling the house and it was like a typhoon. Of course when the clock went off at seven, we were barely conscious.
I am a bit fascinated with the Dictionary of National Celebrity though I don’t imagine Leslie Stephen would make much of it. It would be interesting to find out how much it really has in common with the original Dictionary of National Biography. The new GG fiction winner wrote 17 drafts of his novel.
Onto further toiling.
November 15, 2005
Of late
50-Cent launches a line of novels. I’m sure they’re very good. Pete Waterman isn’t dead yet. Because she hasn’t died of CJD, Lionel Shriver’s not buying the bird flu. PENGUINS! (My third favourite animal). Things writers steal from Joan Didion.
Work work work rain rain rain candlelight dinners tea parties bicycles teapots work work work rain rain rain.
November 10, 2005
Post Perfect Day
In terms of lovely days, yesterday was a work of art. Stuart came home unexpectedly early, and we stayed indoors for the remainder of the day while wind and rain pelted our house. We spent the afternoon horizontally, napping and so laidback we were barely breathing. I took things down a notch with a hot bath. I cooked a delicious peanut chicken stirfry for dinner, and then we watched TV for a while. I find television newscasts hilariously awful, no matter what they are reporting. We watched coverage of a tornado in Hamilton, where a flabby woman without a bra flapped by the camera five times. I began to knit Stuart’s Christmas stocking, which was grand. I haven’t knit anything in ages, and it’s turning out beautifully. And then we really did watch about five hours of Eastenders, loving every minute of it. Johnny Allen has just slammed Peggy’s fingers in a door, and we’re on edge waiting to see how things unfold. We also want to head-up the Toronto branch of the Stacey Slater fanclub.
The first Penguin Podcast can be had here. How booklovers can help save the trees. Fun at McSweeneys.
Yesterday, thunder crashed and the sky broke in two, it opened up and rain fell through.
For my bibliography class, I have to find a book published before 1860. I got “Lives of Celebrated Women” by SG Goodrich, published in Boston in 1843. From the preface, “Will any one pretend that these persons would have better fulfilled their destiny, if confined to the quiet precincts of the fireside? If woman is only to be housewife, why are gifts bestowed upon her, that make her often the rival and sometimes the master of the other sex, even in the higher walks of ambition?” I wonder if Virginia ever read this book.
November 8, 2005
And I….
I really enjoyed this article about the task of translating “Alligator Pie” into French, where it had to become a crocodile. Recent highlights have included filling five bags of yard waste from out front- which was kind of fun as autumn fell down around us, eating mochi, a gross man apparently leering at my underpants while Stuart did our laundry, listening to pop Christmas carols and missing Julie G., and doing so much homework there wasn’t time for much else. And now a reprieve, for a little while. Current projects include christmas stockings to-be-knit, and “Looking for Osama: A Love Story in Rhyming Couplets.” And of course, more homework.
