Mark called me urgently, urgently from the kitchen to his office so that I could share his enthusiasm for a design concept for a wide-screen tv. He is now singing to himself in Latin.
Friday, February 27th, 2009
Monday, February 23rd, 2009
Saturday, February 21st, 2009
gratitudes
A friend who has suffered hard losses writes: “What do you appreciate? Come on, stretch yourself: we want to hear more than the standard “I’m grateful for my health and my family” answer. Come up with your top 10 and pass it on!” And goes on to list ten convincing gratitudes.
My first thought was that this was going to be a difficult but important exercise for me because I’m feeling anxious and depressed these days.
My second thought that I’m going to have trouble listing things I’m grateful for that are not countered by the fear of losing them. I will lose my health and my mind and my family. I will lose my job, if not now then soon or later. So I need to identify things that I either will not lose or that I can enjoy in the moment, knowing that I will lose them. (Consciousness of not using them to their fullest – that is a burden I will just set aside for now.)
My third thought is to be inspired by a young cousin. At age four, during his private nightly review of gratitudes with his mother, he offered up “That relative at the party with [gesture toward his chest]?” Meaning me. I was so chuffed! My genetics, poor diet and tacky wardrobe combined to bring pleasure to a small boy, even as they brought shame to my personal judgement.
My cousin is a hard act to follow, but I’ll try.
1) Canadian citizenship. Patriotism is not one of my values, but I was not born into a country where, for instance, I would be more likely to be raped than to learn to read. A more general phrasing might be ‘the goodwill of my neighbours.’
2) My smile. The pleasure of connection it brings me; the kick I get when a stranger grins back at me.
3) The fact that for now, I have the resources I need to meet my challenges. Tomorrow is another day.
4) Sunlight. Walks in the sunlight.
(Do I need more? Ick. I’m not even halfway through and I’m already stuck. See? I really need to do this exercise.)
5) My past. (Even the painful parts – I’m glad they’re over!)
6) My apartment. Every day I wake up and am grateful for it. I own the building and it’s true, I’m constantly fearful of losing the building, but the apartment itself? I am able to be grateful in the present.
7) Ok, my job. I am grateful for it. People give me all sorts of opportunities and they pay me well. It’s a pained gratitude, because I don’t feel that I deserve it, and unlike sunshine a good job is something that needs to be deserved. But I am not ungrateful.
8) Mark. He hates it when I say this because he feels that I am putting him up on a pedestal. But it’s exactly the opposite: he’s down here in the muck with me, and we are a good fit here. (Mostly.)
9) My friends. I’m not good to them but they are good to me. I am grateful.
10) My family. Yes, I will lose them, have lost some already, but there is no fear, only love.
Your turn!
Thursday, February 19th, 2009
a bee for my bonnet
I finally went to my suit store and for a little over $400 I bought:
– two lined, tailored suits;
– a soft, unlined fitted jacket;
– a lined skirt.
I am still dreaming about how I can match everything with t-shirts, scarves and tights. Fun!
In other news, I have finally found something to become obsessed with as I transition into my age-appropriate role of batty menopausal pest. (Running the world will just have to wait until I’m post-menopausal, as per Margaret Mead.) The Riot for Austerity. It’s a project in which people set themselves the goal “to cut their emissions by 90% of what the average person in [Australia, Canada or] the US consumes – the approximate amount people in the rich world need to reduce by in order to avoid the worst effects of global warming.”
Which means in my case:
1. Using only 10% of the average Canadian’s annual use of 1,200 litres of gasoline, so 240 litres per year for our household of two.
2. Using only 10% of the electricity of the average Canadian’s 17,000 kW-hour per year, so only 3,400 kW hour for our household.
3. Using only 10% of the heating and cooking energy of the average Canadian. I’m not sure how to calculate this, but if I use the US figures from the site that would mean 285 litres of heating oil per year.
4. Reducing garbage production to 10% of the average Canadian’s 1.35 kg of municipal waste per day. Our allowance will thus be 135 g each per day.
5. Consuming only 10% of the water of the average Canadian household’s daily 1,000 litres of water, which means each of us would use no more than 50 litres per day.
6. Spending only 10% of what the average Canadian spends on consumer goods. That would mean capping at $1,600 per year for our household. That will cover all clothes, toiletries, recreation, household maintenance etc. for two people for a year.
7. Reducing the impact of purchased food by 90%. That would mean that if I purchase 20 food items in a week, I’d use 14 home- or locally-produced items, 5 bulk dry items, and only 1 processed or out of season thing.
The idea is to pick from one to seven goals and within a year, make the infrastructure changes necessary to meet the goal(s) and maintain them after the year is up. I like the idea of this project because nobody’s saying “recycling my newspapers has the magical effect of making the impact of my consumption on the world disappear.” (Bonus! If people are actually achieving all these goals I can forgive them for breeding, which is psychologically beneficial.)
I’m not sure which, if any, of the goals I could meet. We may already be meeting the water one (oops, nope, I water the garden). With a little effort we could meet the food one, and I think we’re already not far off the heating oil one. No idea about electricity. Consumer goods would be a radical change (see beginning of this post). Garbage though – it already takes at least 135 g per day to take care of Pepe’s little incontinence problem. Enlisting his cooperation for my pet project will take some doing.
The other reason I like this project: when I am laid off and not working and rampant inflation has taken hold, being broke will be repackaged as virtue.
*** *** ***
Now, I wonder what Mark is going to say when he finds out.
Monday, February 16th, 2009
scandalous words
Um, heard about this on the radio last night. It’s over a week old; I really need to keep up with the news better.
Our diligent but bland premier, Jean Charest, went to France so that Nicolas Sarkozy could award him the Legion of Honour. According to the CBC, all Québec is abuzz over what Sarkozy said to him. “In this case, it is all about how a few words spoken by Nicolas Sarkozy this week has touched off yet another trans-Atlantic tizzy, though this time it is Quebec sovereigntists who are upset with what the French president said.” Apparently, while presenting the Legion of Honour, Sarkozy said “Do you really believe that the world, with the unprecedented crisis that it is going through, needs division, needs hatred?”
Ha. Quebecers really do not care. It’s true, a few words spoken by a French politician have, in fact, touched off a trans-Atlantic tizzy. Different politician, different words.
The diligent but bland french deputy Pierre Lasbordes was assigned to greet Charest as he entered the Senate. He thought he would welcome his distinguished guest with a demonstration of interest in his origins, so he asked his parliamentary aide and his wife to come up with a typically québécois expression to enquire after M. Charest’s state of fatigue. They went to a belgian travel site, found an expression and e-mailed someone in Rimouski who confirmed it. Which is how M. Lasbordes greeted M. Charest with, «J’espère que vous n’avez pas trop la plotte à terre, comme on le dit au Québec.» In English, I’m not sure whether that would be better understood as “I hope you haven’t worn out your cunt,” or “I hope your cunt isn’t dragging on the ground.”
*** *** ***
The québécois word «plotte» comes from the french word «pelote», meaning sheepskin. Something furry. Like a vulva… or a head, which is the imagery that came quite naturally to the parliamentary aide: head on the ground, upside down. While «plotte» is just vulgar when used as vocabulary, it’s kind of silly and cute when used in «plotte à terre», suggesting that “head on the ground” probably is actually the origin of the expression in Québec, though that meaning has been lost. Today, cunt just means cunt.
*** *** ***
Which brings me, however circuitously, to the point, however insignificant, of this post. You know how anglophones think it’s so funny that québécois swear with religious words: “tabernacle” is at least as strong a word as “fuck.” Similarly, “sacristy,” “chalice” and “baptism” are all strong swear words.
What we comment on less frequently are how body words are sprinkled through the language so casually. Windshield washer fluid? «Pipi». Grime under your fingernails? «Caca». Snow? «Merde». Compensating? «Grosse corvette, petite quéquette». Tired? «Avoir la plotte à terre». While this isn’t language I would use to talk to my boss at my corporate job, it would be fine for talking to my neighbour over the fence.
That’s all!
Thursday, February 12th, 2009
Tidy Conundrum 1
(Possibly the first in a series.)
In my previous post I said that being tidy is hard for me because it’s complicated. For most people it’s the opposite. Trying to live and work in an unordered heap is complicated. Wandering through life quietly restoring objects to their rightful places is both obvious and rewarding.
So I thought I’d post about the things that my disorderly little mind struggles with so unsuccessfully. To start off: nail clippings.
I was brought up to clip my nails in such a way that the clippings would fly through the air and fall randomly to the ground. This always seemed a little odd to me. Breadcrumbs and sand are not disposed of by sprinkling them over the floorboards or the bedclothes, but apparently nail clippings are a special exception.
I thought I would be clever and cup my hand over the clipper to catch clippings before they flew off and collect them so they could be tidily thrown out. Well. It turns out that this is Gross and Disgusting. Approximately on the order of pooping on the table. I have been shrieked at for my little piles of clippings, and my first boyfriend almost broke up with me, shaking with rage, when I forgot to throw out my tiny heap and he came home and saw it. This is fairly easy to resolve, of course: only clip nails when utterly alone and with a waste-paper basket within your field of vision. But I was curious. I could imagine that social convention dictates that a piece of nail, once separated from the digit that produced it, becomes so revolting that it may not be looked at or touched. Social convention dictates a lot of things that don’t necessarily make sense. But do all my friends and relatives truly believe that these repugnant objects dissolve into the air or melt into the linoleum?
I asked around, and apparently it’s true. Those horrible nail clippings evaporate if you don’t look at them. And you shouldn’t look at them. They are abhorrent.
Okey-dokey. Nail clipping and disposal in secrecy it is.
It was one of the first things I asked Mark when we met. He has lots of strong ideas about waste disposal and I thought he would be able to resolve the conundrum of simultaneously acknowledging both social convention and object persistence with respect to nail clippings. My confidence was well-founded.
Mark’s answer: clip nails into the bathtub where they will scatter randomly and… provide invisible traction for your feet when you take a shower.
I actually think this solution is a little gross, but I am so relieved to be living with someone who has a rule about nail clippings that makes any sense at all that I don’t quibble.
So. You see why tidying is so complicated for me? Every individual item could get a whole blog post.
Thoughts?