Too Much Bleepin’ Beeping

Posted on February 27, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

Note: If you’re looking for information on how to turn off the beeps in Outlook, go here (Google is just messing with you by sending you to this post)

I was going to write a profound message about work culture, but then my incoming email beeped at me and I lost my train of thought.

How many machines can we possibly need to beep at us during the course of a day? Think of all the lost masterpieces due to infernal reminders from inanimate objects.

These are the machines in my house alone that beep at me (in order of appearance): a watch that sits in a drawer somewhere that goes off at 5:10 each morning because I don’t know how to turn it off, or in fact where it is, the alarm clock (I know its sole raison d’etre is to beep, but that doesn’t mean I can’t resent it), the coffeemaker to tell me the coffee is ready, the coffeemaker when it alert me its turning off, (last chance to get 2-hour old overheated coffee), the fridge if I leave the door open too long, the stove to tell me it’s reached temperature, the timer on the stove, my incoming email, my cell phone to tell me it’s turning on or turning off, or has a low battery, or a voicemail, or a missed call, any reminders I have set in Outlook (I know I set them, but the default setting is to HAVE a reminder which I invariably forget to de-set), even the washing machine wants to to tell me it’s done its cycle or its load is unbalanced–it’s a very needy washing machine.

And of course the car has its own set of tweeting and bleating. And then, there’s the office–the mother-ship of beeping. Between the phones, the computers, the software, the photocopier, the printers, and all other various forms of communication devices–well it’s just a wonder we can get any work done at all. There must be study somewhere about the millions lost to declining productivity due to beeper-related stress disorder.

It’s really like living with a bushman–you know, the kind that communicate using all kinds of clicks and whistles.

Except I think somehow that would be quieter. And I wouldn’t feel quite so ordered around.

Posted in Minor notes in the celestial chord | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Losing Self

Posted on February 22, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

I had the experience twice this week while singing with a group lost all ability to detect my own voice. It was as if the group was one voice and I couldn’t tell if I was singing or not. It was wonderful.

Transcendent.

And that was just the warm up. Now, if we could only apply that to the rest of the show.

I know it’ll come. It just takes time and rehearsal.

Yes, that means that I am in a play. In Mid-May I will be performing the role of the Fairy Queen in the Fraser Valley Gilbert & Sullivan Society’s production of the Gilbert & Sullivan operetta Iolanthe (or The Peer and the Peri). Go here for more information or here > to find out how to purchase lots and lots of tickets . Tickets will go on sale March 1st, 2008. And yes, as a matter of fact I will take it as a personal insult if you don’t come. It will be in the studio theatre of the Surrey Arts Centre, so the action (and more importantly, the sound) is right up close and personal.

There is NOTHING BETTER than to become part of a sound that (like I said about the song Hallelujah, see previous entry) hits you in the solar plexus and won’t let go. It surrounds you, enters you, and carries you away.

And I know it’s just silly Gilbert & Sullivan as everyone is wont to say. Don’t let what you’ve heard ABOUT Gilbert & Sullivan stop you from EXPERIENCING it for yourself. It’s not musical push-ups here. And you will not be required to submit the theatre equivalent of a book report.

Come. Enjoy. Be transported. Lose yourself. It will be wonderful.

Have I built it up too much?

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My List O’ Tears

Posted on February 20, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

Be warned. This entry contains spoilers.

I’ve been thinking about the things in life that are so beautiful they bring us to tears. I don’t mean things that are sad necessarily, but those things that make us cry just from their sheer beauty. Here’s my list.

In the Movie category:

·         The last 15 minutes of Stranger than Fiction, from the moment that Harold is told he has to die to serve Karen’s masterpiece all the way through to the last voiced over monologue about all the things that save our lives. So. Very. Beautiful. I love the whole movie, the script and Zach Helm, but that last 15 minutes just sends me over the edge.

 

·         Whale Rider: The scene where the girl stands up to tell the story of her people and her grandfather doesn’t show up. Ohmigod. I couldn’t even describe it out loud without crying.

 

Music

 

·         You are the New Day, King’s Singers. I heard it first when I was pregnant. You can just imagine the waterworks that ensued.

 

 

 

·         Butterly, by Rajaton.

 

 

 

 

This choir has NO accompaniment folks. That’s all voice. Amazing.

 

 

 

·         Hallelujah. Leonard Cohen’s song that hits you in the solar plexus and won’t let go. Particularly as sung by k.d. lang on Hymns of the 49th Parallel.

 

 

 

·         Like an Angel Passing Through my Room. This song is written by the ABBA guys Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus and is sung by Sophie van Otter on the album For the Stars (with Elvis Costello)

 

 

 

  •       Good Mother by Jann Arden. Those who have heard it need no other explanation. If you haven’t heard it, wait no longer!

Books:

 ·         The ending of The Time Traveller’s Wife. It’s too complicated to go into as it involves time travel, obviously so I won’t give it away. But I wept LIKE A BABY.

·         The Stone Carvers by Jane Urquhart. Such a beautiful story.

 

Television:

 

·         In Northern Exposure. It’s the episode called Northern Lights in Season 4. Chris’ winter art project involves collecting all the lights he can find in the town and making this crazy art installation which he introduces to the townsfolk with a beautiful monologue about what light means to humanity. Then he switches all the lights on with these giant switches at the same time that Enya’s Ebudae starts.

 

 

 

 

 

And hey, there’s always the Real Life moments:

 

·         Christmas carols & the kids’ Christmas concerts. No matter how bad, I get all choked up.

·         Weddings. Of course.

·         Baptisms. Our priest has this beautiful ritual where after a baptism he holds up the infant and walks it down the aisles of the church introducing it to the community. I have to feign sand in my eyes every time.

·         My youngest saying “Merry Christmas Mommy”

 

How irritating are all these links eh what?

 

What’s your “so beautiful it makes me cry” list?

Posted in Leaves, Observatory, Twilight | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Kissing–the Gold Standard

Posted on February 19, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

So, I’m watching Celebrity Apprentice last week. Yes, I watch Celebrity Apprentice. Deal with it. It can’t  all be Robertson Davies and Masterpiece Theatre around the house. My three-year-old wanders casually out of his room (as if I hadn’t put him to bed an hour before) and takes a look at the television just as Jenna Jameson plants one on Tito Orvitz’s mug. For those of you not in the know, like my oh so very innocent self, Jenna Jameson, my husband informs me, is a very famous adult movie star. Maybe the most famous.

Sidebar: How does my husband know this I wonder? He has yet to come up with a plausible explanation for that one. So far it’s involved what we call the Colin Mochrie defence, when in a difficult spot, collapse. Faint. Feign a heart attack. Die if necessary.

Anyway, back to my three-year-old

Oh, mom, that’s good kissing.

he informs me.

My question is this–how does HE know she’s a professional?

Is it some boy gene that can distinguish between the rank amateur and seasoned professional just by watching one little peck on the cheek?

Good God, he’s could be Donald Trump’s eyes and ears on Celebrity Apprentice II. After all he’s demonstrated that he has the ability to pick the best. He has discernment. He could replace George when George is out of town on business. It would have to be a very particular task though I grant you.

And with all the awful and yet somehow funny imaginings that that raises. I’m signing off.  Here’s hoping it’s Piers and Omarosa’s week to hit the street.  I’d like to see them share the cab ride home and both try to get their last words in.

Posted in Mothership, Sun | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Of Oil Leaks and Knighthood on St. Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 15, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

So, it was an eventful Valentine’s day.

Valentine’s Day is my husband’s birthday. (I detest the expression DH when referring to one’s husband in e-communications. You will not see the two letters DH strung together on this website). As I was saying, it is my husband’s birthday on Valentine’s Day. This Valentine’s Day slash birthday was complicated by the fact that his parents called to say they were in town and would like to see him on his birthday.  This was a lovely, but still a surprise. And although I pride myself on my ability to roll with things there was only so far I could roll this week. I had to go into work on Thursday to deal with a complicated mailout.

I was hoping to leave early, but wrapping stuff up took me an extra 45 minutes of cleaning and loading up my beat up 1990 Volkswagen Passat with the remaining pieces of the mailout to finish on Friday and the weekend. (Child labour has its merits.)

I get on to West 2nd and I am met with gridlock. Absolute hellish gridlock. When is that fricking Canada Line going to be finished? And then it happens, my oil light goes on. What the? I put two litres of oil in the car on Monday! So, I sweat myself to the Shell on Main and 2nd and buy four liters of oil. I put three in the car. The oil light goes off. Okay, note to self, get the car in to get that oil leak repaired. I call my husband. I will meet them all at the local Ricky’s.

I crawl my way down first to Clark, to Knight Street to the 91 Highway. The traffic was so bad you might have thought it was snowing, despite all evidence to the contrary. And then it happens again. About two miles down the 91 the oil light goes on. Apparently this is a much worse oil leak than I thought. I pull over and put the last of the oil into the car. I wonder if I can possibly make it home? The oil is barely registering on the dipstick. I look up to see the flashing lights of a tow truck who has pulled in behind me. Thank God. So, in short Keith, the tow truck driver, pulled over because that’s his policy when he sees someone with their four ways on by the side of the highway. He towed me to a mechanic in Delta (he even called ahead, so the mechanic was there to meet us when we got there) and then took me to a Tim Horton’s so I could await pick up by my husband. He charged me $78.76.

So, who knows.  The mechanic, who seems to be related in some way to Keith’s boss, may charge me an arm and a leg to fix my car. (Keith says he rebuilt a good chunk of his personal car for under $200, so maybe he’s a good guy.) Maybe Keith gets a commission to bring cars in that way. I know Keith got a commission to tow me. I do not in any way begrudge that. This morning, as I write this, I am so grateful that he had the decency to stop. I don’t have an auto club membership so I would have been stuck out there in the middle of no where for quite a while otherwise. He was helpful, respectful, and chatty in a comfortable getting to know you way. I liked him. He went out of his way as his shift was almost done and he was headed to New Westminster, not Delta. The mechanic went out of his way to stay to meet us (this was now around 6:45pm). And I know that two days from now, I am not going to have to fill out a customer satisfaction survey and I will not receive helpful promotional offers via email. It was an interesting visit to a different world.

The knights of our modern world might have tattoos, shaved heads and interesting facial hair, and their armour might be slightly rusted, but the code of chivalry remains. So, here’s to you Keith. Thanks for rescuing a damsel in distress and returning her to her family.

Update: Just got off the phone with the mechanic who is, by the way, a lovely fellow. The repair for this oil leak will be under $200 and if the seal comes in from the auto parts place on time I’ll have the car back by the end of day. So, how about that? That’s the cheapest car repair we’ve had in a year. So, in my second toast of the day, here’s to getting off the grid of auto clubs and dealer service shops and instead of being shafted as expected, discovering decency, honesty and folks helping other folks (granted for a price, but a reasonable price). 

Compare: our last OIL CHANGE at the dealer service shop cost us $500 because of all the “other stuff” that needed to repaired. The last time two times we took our newer model car in to the dealer for a repair it cost us $1,200 both times and they had it for five days each time. But they’d be happy to lend me a courtesy car for an additional $50 per day. Then, once we get the car back (both times NOT vaccuumed which is one of the best treats about taking it to the dealer service shop in the first place) I have to be hounded for days for follow up customer satisfaction surveys and constant email reminders to fix all the little crap that they “discovered” the last time.

Compare: the last time I needed a tow, I realized I hadn’t renewed my auto club membership. So, when I called, they wanted to not only charge me the membership fee, BUT ALSO an additional call-out fee and oh by the way, a year ago, the tow truck driver copied your credit card number down wrong for the additional mileage so you owe that too. I know for a FACT that I settled up that wrong credit card number issue MONTHS AGO, but how am I supposed to dig up an old credit card bill from the last tax year to prove that to someone when I need a tow right now? So, I essentially told them forget the whole thing. I pulled out the yellow pages and called a local towing company that charged me $60 to take it to my garage of choice, no mileage on top of the hook-up. And again, no follow up customer satisfaction surveys or promotional offers.

So, auto club $200 plus  hassle, aggravation and vague assumption of criminal tendencies.

Towing company out of my yellow pages $60. No hassle, no assumptions about my character at all one way or the other and no customer experience followup.

Priceless.

It’s a brave new world out there off the grid. Have you had any similar experiences? I’d like to hear them.

Posted in Aliens and uncharted planets, Observatory | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Of Winter Melancholy

Posted on February 10, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

So tired. So very tired.

I have no energy these days.

My iron is fine. My cholesterol is fine. I’m working out 3 times a week (I’m doing 4 mile jog/walks, Yay for me). In general I’m not staying up too late and most mornings I ignore my alarm clock until I’m darn good and ready to get out of bed. But still, I just can’t seem to be energized about anything. Even the other day, I went for a long workout, which is supposed to energize and later that afternoon, fell into a two-hour swoon on my sofa. It was a great nap–the kind that leaves one feeling cat-like and langorous for hours, with a shadow of that warm blanket still on your skin and in your muscles. But I felt guilty about taking it. Ironically, at the time I’m feeling lethargic, is my busiest work time of the year. So, it feels like I’m slogging through this West Coast slush. I’m getting it done, but it’s a struggle.

My latest theory is that it’s the winter. I’m suffering from SAD. And then that makes me cross. Why does every feeling have to be classified as a syndrome, an ailment, an illness? I just feel tired, sometimes a little melancholy. Can’t I just feel melancholy? Does that mean I’m suffering from clinical depression? If everything else is sleeping in nature, why can’t I?

I seem to have trained myself to believe that whatever I’m doing, feeling or being at any given time it the wrong thing. I’m tired, I shouldn’t be. I’m napping, I shouldn’t be. I’m sad. I shouldn’t be. I’m beginning to have a small niggling, persistent thought. Maybe the feelings I have, the impulses for action (or in my case non-action) are the absolute right ones. Maybe it’s right to be in touch with the seasons and this season is the time for hibernating, sleeping, fallowing. I need to wax and wane in the same way as the seasons. This is the right time to be curling up on a sofa with my blanky, a good but undemanding book, drinking coffee with cream, or maybe a large glass of red wine depending on the time of day. Good chocolate. Hot buttered popcorn. I want to write bad poetry, chat endlessly about life with my nearest and dearest. Snuggle with my family.

I am awaiting the equinox. I would like to feel the first green shoots coming up through the still cold ground. Feel the cold breeze with a warming sun of spring. I want to be energized and bubbly happy. But, here I am in the middle of winter and it seems I must stand where I am. Or lie down where I am. This year, I’m not going to wish it away. I am going to do the unthinkable in our hyped up, gotta keep on moving society. I am going to enjoy being low-energy. I am going to enjoy doing just the essentials to keep everyone fed and hygienic. I am going to enjoy my naps. Naps are now my quiet revolution. So there.

And now, when people ask me what I did on the weekend I am going to look courageously in their eyes and say “Nothing. And it was great.” They’ll feel uncomfortable, but I won’t.

Posted in Observatory, Winter Solstice | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Granville Island Mondays

Posted on February 1, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

Thank God January is done. I am lucky enough to work on Granville Island and have done so for (this is hard to believe) 7 years now. I love Granville Island. It is one of my favourite places in the world. How could it not be? I love the look and the feel. I love the artists, the artisans, the food, the shops (Paper-Ya is my favourite).

 

Every year in January, the Public Market is closed on Mondays to get some maintenance work done that they can’t get done while people are shopping. And every year, on all four Mondays of January the following happens. I walk over to the Public Market, ceramic coffee mug in hand, and am shocked to find it closed. Not just shocked mind you. I’m move from shock quickly into my denial phase and try the door again, and maybe just one more time. Still locked. Once I realize the door is just not going to open, I skip right over the bargaining phase since there’s no one to bargain with anyway, and get straight to anger. How could they be closed when I need my organic half-caff Americano with vanilla powder and a healthy shot of cream and my multi-grain raspberry scone warmed 20 seconds with a pat of butter? The nerve of these people. What on earth am I expected to do? And then I’m bereft. There are other places to find food and drink on Granville Island, but this is a well-loved rut I’m in.

 

It’s at moments like this I know I would make a great celebrity.

 

And here it is, February 1st and I have lived to tell the tale of my positively ascetic January Mondays. Thank God that’s over for another year.   

Posted in Minor notes in the celestial chord, Observatory, Stardust, Winter Solstice | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pothole Public Service Announcement

Posted on February 1, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

This is a pothole public service announcement for all you Vancouver area commuters. (I will now use my patented funnel-down method) If you are going to use the Oak Street Bridge to head into Vancouver, stay out of the left lane at least until you pass the mother of all potholes at the south-ish end of the bridge. It is a sight to behold and certainly not one to drive through, because as the children’s song goes…”can’t go over it, can’t go under it, can’t go around it, have to go through it.” If you ARE in that left lane it looms down out of no where and there truly is no where to go but through it, saying a brief prayer to Saint Chromius the patron saint of hubcaps. I’ve managed to drive through it twice and lived to tell the tale, although the second time they had to send search and rescue out to retrieve me. 

 

I’m just trying to do my part to get you all where you have to go safely and without dented hubcaps.  If you’ve noticed any lethal potholes feel free to post them here. Let’s try to use the internet for good.

 

Update: Pothole now repaired. You may return to your regular lane preference on the Oak Street Bridge.

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Is nat guy dead?

Posted on January 23, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

So, we’re at church, and my three-year-old, looking up at the large Crucifix on the altar, asks in a rather loud voice:

Is nat guy DEAD?

 

What do you say?

Well, son that has been a matter of debate for two millennia. It’s a question that’s started religions and wars. Ultimately, it’s a matter of faith, and while we believe he indeed die on the cross, we also believe he rose again.

 

Instead I said

Shh. Do you want to look at your book about trucks?

These are the moment-to-moment decisions that plague me as a parent.

Posted in Mothership, Observatory | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Of Blogging

Posted on January 22, 2008 by Tentative Equinox North

Since I’ve been blogging, one glorious month, I’ve actually been reading other blogs. And, as the general wisdom holds, most of them are indeed crap. But, and this surprised me, lots are really good. Imaginative. Cute turns of phrase. Observant. Funny. I used to have a diet of 3 blogs outside of a few of my family and friends: Scott Adams, Jann Arden, and Grrl Genius. Sadly, Grrl Genius isn’t blogging anymore since IVillage stopped paying their writers, so I have to make do with an occasional entry on her MySpace page. So I was left with Scott Adams and Jann Arden and Jann only updates sporadically. Then I chanced upon someone who referred to blogger Meg Fowler and bingo—a treasure trove. Her and all the blogs she recommends on her site are great. Hey, where are you going? Wait a second, I didn’t mean you should abandon me! I’m still developing my blog voice. I’ve made cookies. Oh, never mind. Come back when you’re done. Hey, you’re back? Cool.

 

I also happened to pick up my copy of Robertson’s Davies’ “The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks.” For those of you not familiar with it, Robertson Davies (if you don’t know who Robertson Davies is, well, <sigh> he is just one of THE icons of Canadian Literature) writes brief, humourous essays under the name of his doppelganger, Samuel Marchbanks. Section 1 is a diary, Section 2 is Table Talk, or suggested conversation gambits which is organized according to course. Section 3 is titled “A Nosegay plucked from the Musings, Pensees, Obiter Dicta, and Apophthegms as well as the Letters of Samuel Marchbanks…”

 

Anyway, my point:

 

They are genius. Look at this one from the Fish Course in Table Talk:

 

Of Feigned Industry

 

I spent a busy day today, but got little done. This is because I am at last becoming perfect in the art of seeming busy, even when very little is going on in my head or under my hands. This is an art which every man learns, if he does not intend to work himself to death. By shifting papers about my desk, writing my initials on things, talking to my colleagues about things which they already know, fumbling in books of reference, making notes about things which are already decided, and staring out the window while tapping my teeth with a pencil, I can successfully counterfeit a man doing a heavy day’s work. Nobody who watched me would ever be able to guess what I was doing, and the secret of this is that I am not doing anything, or creating anything, and brain is having a nice rest. I am, in short, an executive.”

 

Or this one from his diary, Week XXVIII, Sunday

 

Some important atomic bomb tests were held today, but no consequences were observable in my part of the world. Half-consciously I had been expecting the end of everything, and had made preparations accordingly. I burned a few letters which I did not wish to have vaporized; when we are all reduced to atoms, who can tell what atoms will read other private atoms, as they hurtle through space? I put a few of my more prized possessions in prominent places so that they would be vaporized as prominently and showily as possible. I threw a few bricks and rocks into my furnace, so that its vaporization might be painful. Then I spent as much time as I could manage lying on a sofa so that if necessary, I might enter Eternity in a relaxed posture. But nothing happened.

 

So brief, so funny, so smart. This book should be required reading for every blogger.

 

I think if listening to Mozart can increase your intelligence, that you can get an equal IQ boost from reading Robertson Davies. Someone should do a study. What could happen if you read Robertson Davies WHILE you listen to Mozart? I will try it today and report back any sudden surges in my ability to formulate paradigm shifting hypotheses.

Posted in Leaves, Observatory | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments