Rainy morning.....

Aliya cancelled our yoga session this morning - I got her phone call just before as I was leaving the apartment. This left me with an unclaimed hour before work. Options: go back to bed, read some slash, go to the fitness club, go for a walk....

I remembered Deepak Chopra's advice for spirituality and happiness: to go and look, every day, on a large body of water.

It's been a while. My apartment is thirty feet from the Rideau Canal, and it's water, but I don't think I'd call the canal 'large', even though it is pretty wide in my part of the Glebe. Ditto for the fishpond beside it. (Or is it a frog pond?)

So I took a little extra ramble on my way to work, and followed the canal as far Rideau Street, where I had to go up the steps and then down the steps on the other side of the street, beside the Photographic Museum. I'd never been down there before. The steps led to a palatial terrace (I was having vague fantasies of Maxfield Parrish) which in turn led to Major's Hill Park. I wandered the top of the cliffs by the water, looking down the Ottawa River. Enough water for anyone, there. I've read that by volume of water the Ottawa is one of the biggest in the world, but surely it can't compare to the Mississippi, the Amazon, or the Fraser?

The clock on the Peace Tower chimed at 7.30. In the rain, it was hauntingly beautiful. The Library of Parliament is invisible under elaborate scaffolding, and has been for some time. I wonder how long that will last.

It continued to rain. I passed seven hiking soldiers in fatigues; the one in the rear grinned and said 'good morning'. I passed a number of runners: because of the rain, it was wet T-shirt day.

I went to the fitness club, and read an Esperanto textbook on a cycling machine for 20 minutes. It was fun. There were numerous people on numerous machines, some watching the televisions, some listening to music - why do so few people read on those things? I plan to be fluent and fit if it kills me.

One sentence I had to translate cracked me up: "His pencil is thick and short, but yours is long and thin." I hope the clearn-mind-police weren't watching.

By the time I left the club it had stopped raining and the sun was coming out - with thick, humid air. I went to the Byward market, but not many places were open yet. The world begins after 8 a.m. There were no raspberries out at my favourite booth, so I bought plums for breakfast instead.

Then to work, to write this. There's construction going on here, too: they're building a photocopier room across from my office, and a liquor room upstairs by the bar, and the City is tearing up water mains right outside my window. Right outside. Noisily. Inches from my desk. This would be even more annoying if the guys working on the project weren't cute.

Quote....

We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.

-- Jonathan Swift

To all my American friends....

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!

the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Friday five....

From The Friday Five:

1. What were your favorite childhood stories?

From the youngest I can remember: A.A. Milne, the Winnie-the-Pooh books as well as "When We Were Very Young" and "Now We Are Six". A little later: "The Cat in the Hat" by Dr. Seuss. Aged 9 or so: "Sir Francis Drake" and the novels of E. Nesbit and Enid Blyton, especially the Adventure series. Soon afterwards: "The Lost Queen of Egypt" and "Merrylips".


2. What books from your childhood would you like to share with [your] children?

All of them. Or at least - all the good ones.



3. Have you re-read any of those childhood stories and been surprised by anything?

I've reread my favourites, yes, except I haven't been able to find a copy of "Merrylips". Suprises? No. I remembered them rather well, and had the same reactions. A.A. Milne is still one of my favourite writers and I particularly enjoy reading his works in foreign languages.


4. How old were you when you first learned to read?

Six. There's a bad memory there. My parents thought I would be bored in school if I learned to read beforehand, so they didn't teach me to read, but told me I could learn to read when I went to school. I was more or less counting the days till I could go to school and learn to read on my own. They read to me often and I had no lack of books. I loved books with a passion even then.

I went to kindergarten and they had us drawing circles. After a few days or weeks of this I started to wonder why we weren't going on to more interesting things. I asked the teacher when we were going to learn to read and write. "That comes next year," she said.

I was shattered. A year is a long time when you're five years old, and reading was my heart's desire. I don't think the teacher had any idea how upset I was. "Can you just show me how to make an A?" I asked, probably pretty timidly, since I was a shy kid, and it shows what despair I was in that I would even ask.

"You'll get that in grade one," said the teacher.

I probably never told my parents about this; it was too upsetting to talk about. I did learn to read, eventually - in grade one. I vividly remember being on the bus, looking at the signs on shops and wishing I knew what they said, envying all the lucky adults who were able to read them so easily.

I never got over my disappointment and resentment towards school, and the memory of that day still distresses me.


5. Do you remember the first 'grown-up' book you read? How old were you?

Twelve years and three months. It was Christmas at my grandfather's place. I was bored, and picked a Perry Mason novel off his bookshelf, and enjoyed it - I used to watch Perry Mason on TV with my mother when I was six, and loved it. Within a few months I'd read all the Perry Mason novels then in print, and "A Tale of Two Cities" and "Jane Eyre" and then I started on Victoria Holt. There was no holding me back then!

In the rough? Girl's best friend? Being forever?

Got this from sffan -





You're a Diamond. You seem like a cold and an
unreachable person outside, yet you are
beautiful inside and outside. You may be
stubborn at times. You act with grace and
elegance and you are a precious asset to all
your friends.


What Jewel Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Recommendation....

I'm running behind on the recommendations. And many other things.

It doesn't begin to catch up but let me recommend two wonderful stories:


Behind a Dragon's Smile by thamiris. I liked this because it's clever, it's smart, it's very hot, and it has a wonderful exotic oriental parable that really means something in terms of the characterization and plot; and I love the resolution to the puzzle presented by the action. I also, as always, love Thamiris' style. Someday I will be able to let out all the stops in my writing and acquire the crystalline impact that she has - with apparent effortlessness, but I know better than to believe that. While you're reading that one, check out also The Way Bodies Bend for a nice, sexy twist on things. I'm still not sure quite what to make of it.

Not Less Than Everything by isagel. Okay, I was slightly responsible for this, and I couldn't be prouder. Isagel met my challenge to write a Clex-piece based on the poetry of T.S. Eliot and the results are amazing. Utterly wonderful.