A Public Note to my Self in January

Dear Self in January, just thought I'd post this note so that in January, maybe December, when you're really frustrated with the cold and pining for summer that you'll look back to this blog remember this day where, at 9 AM, the humidex is 41o C. Also remember that we're not only under a humidex advisory but a smog advisory too. Maybe the cold doesn't feel so bad when you remember that in the past 24 hours, the humidex low was 39 o C (at 5 am this morning) and the high was 48 o C. (Maybe, in January you're not a believer in the humidex so in basic celcius the low was 27o and the high 35 o) You may also want to remember that, after finally falling asleep at 4 AM, you were awoken at 4:30 by the unmistakable scent of a skunk family gathering beneath your bedroom window. By the time you fell asleep again, it was time to get up. So, Self in January, remember this day as I remember a day last January when I waited for a bus that never came in blizzarding weather and I vowed I would never complain about heat again. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying....

This Weekend: When Heidi and Dale met "When Philip Met Isabella"

Perhaps I've mentioned the Cranbrook to you; Dale and I stumbled upon it last summer and it has seemed like a magical oasis of art and gardens ever since. Tucked into an expansive green space in the middle of the city and accessed by a hilly winding road, it's one of my favourite places in Detroit. It's a beautiful space but what I love about it is that I'm never sure what I'm going to see there. Take yesterday, for example. We wandered into an exhibit called "When Philip Met Isabella" which is about the relationship between Philip Treacy (a hatmaker) and his friend/muse Isabella Blow. I had no idea how stunning this exhibit would be nor how fascinated I'd become by these two people, the hats and all of the ephemera created around them and these quirky beautiful hats. If you go to the above link and scroll down, you can see examples of the hats and some of the photos. One of the things that intrigued me was how Treacy was able to take a line from a vintage hat or a familiar hat motif or millinery material and reinvent it into something surprising and new yet still within the tradition of hats. See, for example, the pheasant feather hat. I was really fascinated too by Treacy's Boat hat which was inspired by Treacy reading a book by Olivier Bernier called Pleasure and Privilege: Life in France, Naples and America 1770-1795. He learned that after the defeat of the British Fleet in 1784, fashionable ladies in the French court incorporated representations of d'Estaing's ship in their coiffeurs. 'The Ship" (1995) is an incredibly detailed and meticulously constructed reconstruction of a ship made with traditional millinery materials like black satin, feather bones, feathers and netting. Apparently, not all of yesterday's patrons were as enthused by Treacy's work as we were. As I was copying down the details about The Ship, a girl of about 8 peered into the case and exclaimed with disdain:"No one would wear a hat like that in broad daylight!" Her friend shrugged and off they went. The equally beautiful David Beckham hat met with their disapproval as well. Oh well. I'm still going to order the book; if you live near me, I'm sure I'll foist it upon you. And, who knows, I may even foist it upon you if you don't live near me. Here's another link about him.
PS: I'm trying to coordinate my Flickr site and blog a bit better. You'll find photos from This Weekend in the set called, you guessed it, This Weekend. I'm also assembling the baseball pictures together too. Can you tell I took cataloguing?

Site of the Week: McSweeney's Lists

Maybe it's the heat. Or the rain. Or the lack of natural sunlight in my current office. Whatever the reason, my attention span is very short this week which makes these lists from McSweeney's so fascinating in their haiku-like simplicity. Check out, Board Games Inspired by the Bush Administration or Disneyland Rides If Disney Were Bought Out by the Campbell Soup Company or Plot Synopses for Episodes of a Gilligan's Island Remake Starring Members of the Bush Administration ( for example, "A hurricane hits the island. Gilligan does nothing to help, but tells Mrs. Howell, "Lovey, you're doing a heck of a job." or "Skipper goes hunting for fowl on the island and accidentally shoots Mr. Howell in the face, then waits a day before telling Gilligan.") and, Roller-Derby Pseudonyms for Literature Majors. Finally,the "I really think I'm losing it because I'm laughing so hard at this that I'm teary" list: Names for Your Transgendered Baby

Anne of iTunes?

Missing my twice weekly train ride and happy to have finally found speakers for my work computer, I spent some time wandering through iTunes tonight. I ended up reading a bio of Idlewild and found out this truly amazing fact-- it's amazing to the point of being unbelievable. I will quote from their bio at length for the full effect: "Drafting Rod's friend and Joy Division enthusiast Phil Scanlon (Born May 21st 1976) to play bass (because he owned one), Idlewild mark one form and start practising in the winter of 1995 in a room so cold all early songs are written with gloves on. (They take their name from the quiet meeting place in Roddy's favourite book at the time, 'Anne of Green Gables')." In case you were wondering, none of the photos on their website feature Roddy with a straw hat and braids; though, it actually might be a good look for him.

Zoom Zoom Zumaya: Game 4 of 22

Summary:
Score: Tigers 8 Oakland A's 4
Temperature: 78 o
Attendance: 40,355
Winner of the Dunkin' Donuts Race: Dashing Donut

In the past week or so, I've had a similar conversation with about half a dozen people who have all been curious to know if I am going to these twenty two games willingly or under duress. Am I a fan myself or just a very cool wife? Hmm. Well, can't a girl be both? :) The answer is this: I'm not only going willingly, I'm going very happily. Every time I answer this question, I realize I'm evading the other person's central question which is this: what is the appeal of baseball especially if you've never played? I'm not sure I can answer that question in any kind of detail but I have spent a fair bit of time pondering this question this past week. It's occuring to me that in order to like anything you need to try to (or want to try to) understand it on its own terms. Whether we're talking about baseball, modern art, Nascar, Gertrude Stein, curling, growing orchids, hip-hop or Puccini, you need to want to understand what makes it a unique entity. The rules are fairly simple, the pace methodical but there's a lot going on. Part of what's interesting to me about baseball is that there is a lot to learn about the game; every game I learn something new. In previous games, I had a great view of the outfield and was able to see how the outfielders positioned themselves differently for different hitters and different scenarios. Today we sat in a section I'd never sat in before and we had great sight lines between the mound (last summer I learned why pitchers pitch from a mound) and home plate. I was able to watch Joel Zumaya pitch from this angle and I learned a lot. From this angle I could watch the movement of his 101 mph pitch and actually see how that pitch is different from the 85 mph pitch he threw next. My digital camera is full of failed attempts to capture one of these 100 mph pitches-- check these out on flickr. Being able to see these subtleties added a new layer of understanding to my rudimentary knowledge of the game. I think this is what keeps me coming back. Our next set of tickets is for the first weekend in August. I'll be back to non-baseball subjects soon. Oh, and I was able to capture today's donut race-- I'm trying to figure out how to post video footage if you're interested in reliving Dashing Donut's stunning victory.

Mighty Curtis at the Bat: Game 3 of 22

Summary:
Score: Oakland A's 9 Tigers 5
Temperature: 78 o
Attendance: 38,923
Winner of the Dunkin' Donuts Race: Cuppie Coffee

At the end of the first inning, today's game looked done like dinner. Each of the first five Tigers hitters scored making it a 5-0 game. Half way through the top of the 2nd, my neighbour said, "we've got ourselves a ball game." By the end of the second inning, it was 5-5 and, while there were lots of great chances, the Tigers couldn't topple the A's. As I noted in my entry last night, each game I'm more and more impressed with Curtis Granderson. I spent most of today's game watching him. Granted, he is cute as a button, smart and articulate but he's also lithe, precise and elegant to watch. Watching him trying to steal a base, I notice he almost floats above the base. At the plate, time seems so slow down when he swings. In center field, again, he floats and time stops around him. I'm also starting to realize what it is about baseball that I like: I like that it is a narrative that can be captured and retold on a score card and I also like its visuals. I am struck by how so often the field is like a tableau vivante. In part, I'm taking so many pictures because I'm still sorting out what this cool digital camera can do but I'm also really drawn to the field as a canvas and the players' positions as a form of design on that canvas. Most of my photos from today are attempts to capture the above described qualities of Curtis; I've posted them on Flickr.

Answering to a Higher Authority: Game 2 of 22

Summary:

Score: Tigers 7 Oakland A's 4
Temperature: 77 o
Attendance: 40,687
Winner of the Dunkin' Donuts Race: Biggie Bagel

Tonight, we arrived at the ballpark a little earlier than usual and were not only able to see the A's batting practice but also the award ceremony for the first ever Hebrew National Higher Authority Hawker Award. In case you do not know (as I did not), Hebrew National kosher dogs' slogan is "We answer to a higher authority." I've just Googled this and found out that fans voted for their favorite kosher dog "based on passion for hawking, creativity & overall technique." Here is a picture of a hawker demonstrating his passion, creativity and overall technique on the scoreboard. I have to admit, this whole higher authority hotdog hawker thing intrigues me and grosses me out. While perusing my Google results, I just learned from The Meat News (did you know there is such a publication?) that "The [Hebrew National] campaign’s television advertisements feature colorful, progressive graphics to show how kosher beef relies on choice cuts of meat from the front part of cattle, guaranteeing "no ifs, ands, or butts.” Nice word play but umm... yeech. Maybe I'll write a follow up letter to Comerica about my request for ball park tofu dogs. But enough lamenting about tofu hotdogs.
Tonight was also another beautiful night to watch baseball and the Tigers played a lovely, fun and almost elegant game (until the 9 inning). It's exciting to see 40,687 people standing for the final pitches and, I expect, it's only going to get more exciting as we go along. And, I'm becoming a bigger fan of Curtis Granderson every night. We've got tickets for tomorrow and Sunday so stay tuned. I know you must all be a-flutter to see if Cuppie Coffee or Dashing Donut can disrupt Biggie Bagel's winning streak and I won't let you down.
PS if your initials are Dave, I completed my score card-- you'd be proud.

Democracy: she's a cruel mistress

There were no hanging chads to contend with but results of the first ever Vote for Site of the Week were nevertheless inconclusive. This week I've overthrown democracy and picked this week's Site of the Week. This week's site is related to baseball and the Tigers' momentum. Check out Nate Robertson's blog Gum Time about the Rally Chew. What's a rally chew?: "It began innocently enough, when Nate Robertson stuffed the entire contents of a pack of original-flavored Big League Chew into his mouth while the Tigers were down by five runs in a game against the Yankees." It's not quite as cool as the Rally Monkey but it's still pretty cool.
PS: I'm still playing around with the digital camera and am posting photos to Flickr regularly-- stop by, say hi. I think there's also a RSS feed for it too.

Root, root, root for the Tigers: Game 1/ 22

Summary:
Score: Tigers 5 White Sox 2
Temperature: 81 o
Attendance: 39,593
Winner of the Dunkin' Donuts Race: Biggie Bagel

For a range of reasons-- not least of which is Dale's rather significant birthday next week-- we are now the proud owners of 22 sets of Tigers tickets. Between tonight and the end of the season, we will be going to 22 home baseball games. One of the reasons we actually bit the ticket bullet was the rather sudden difficulty in getting tickets. For the past 6 years, we've been able to walk up and get the tickets we want an hour before the game; as of this weekend, tickets for many games weeks away are sold out or are standing room only. Three years ago, we watched the Tigers go 43-119 and Dale, Dave and I were frequently one of a few small islands of fans whose ooohs and woo hoos bounced awakardly around the nearly empty ballpark. Tonight-- a Wednesday-- there were 39,593 people in attendance and the whole place buzzed all night. It's a radically different experience to watch a team that's not only winning but... well, I don't want to jinx it but let me just say these next 21 games are going to be very exciting.


Here's the end of Craig Monroe's grand slam homerun that made the game 5-2. Above is a night shot of Comerica on what turned into an absolutely beautiful summer night.

Snape and Wiarton Willie

Even Professor Snape felt a little glum over Wiarton Willie's passing and raised a bottle of Woodchuck cider in his honour last night. (Actually, I think he ended up using a straw rather than actually raising the bottle). This photo heralds a new era. This past week we finally succumbed to the lure of digital cameras and I'm in the process of figuring out its various bells and whistles; I'll write more about that soon but just to let you know I will be posting photos both here and on my flickr site on a regular basis. I'm scanning my Newfoundland photos and will be adding those to flickr shortly too. And,I've still not got speakers or sound in my office-- perhaps next week.

Wiarton Willie: Memorial today, 1 PM

In case you missed it, Wiarton Willie (or this particular incarnation)shuffled off his mortal coil last week and will be laid to rest today in Wiarton. Memorial services, including a eulogy, trumpet solo, and an "announcement about Willie’s ashes and an appropriate marker" will commence at 1:00 and conclude at 1:30.

As Roy MacGregor notes in today's Globe and Mail that, "It is not the first time he has died, the most famous demise coming in 1999 when, a few day's before Groundhog Day, Willie's handlers found him stiff and cold and sat on the story until the big day, when they gathered around an open casket that held -- to avoid the smell -- a fake groundhog that had been stuffed by a local taxidermist. They called that incident "Williegate," but it has hardly been the only incident. Groundhog Day in Canada, which some believe would be better held in April, began 50 years ago when a local man invited some friends up from the city, half buried a fake groundhog in the snow -- some maintain it was his wife's hat -- and then got the gullible Toronto media to buy into a story that it all meant spring was still six weeks away."

For those of you baffled by Willie-mania, I offer this explanation from Roy MacGregor: "We know Canadian humour doesn't always make sense to outsiders." In closing, I urge you to visit the memorial site and read the poem that ends with this stanza:
"Wiarton Willie was nine years old;
He manned his post for seven.
His spirit lives for evermore
In our hearts as well as heaven.
In the shadow of his statue,
Are his ashes, laid to rest.
He touched our lives so many ways;
We each were truly blessed."
Ah Willie, you served your country well. God Speed little rodent, God Speed.

Democracy Comes to Site of the Week

I was reading some John Dewey this morning and was inspired to overthrow my own blog hegemony. Thus, as a way of democratizing the Site of the Week, I'm opening the choice up to you, my faithful cafe visitors. Curiously, all three are dancing cat videos and all three have been sent to me in the past 12 hours by Danny and Tamsin. Why they might be sending me dancing cat videos, I do not know. So, here are the contenders.

Independent Woman
Kitty Cat Dance
Cat Ninjas

As Dewey said (decidely not of dancing cat videos): “We naturally associate democracy, to be sure, with freedom of action, but freedom of action without freed capacity of thought behind it is only chaos.” Resist the chaos: e-mail me with a vote.

Overheard: Dreaming the Big Dream

Today I was walking into Shoppers Drug Mart behind two guys in their late teens. One pointed out the sign that advertised that the Lotto 649 is something like $21 million. "Wow, what would you do with that?" said one. The other paused for a moment and then said, "I'd move out." His friend nodding knowingly and I nodded along with him. Big dreams have to start somewhere don't they?

Site of the Weeks

I'm a bit behind on the site of the week and this one's worthy of at least a few weeks so here's the Site of the Weeks Courtesy of Tamsin. Learn How to Dance With Napolean Dynamite

Conversation with Ken

A recreation of last night's phone conversation with Ken:
"You don't take requests for blogging do you?"
"Oh yes, of course. What do you want?"
"What happened to 'This Week on my I-pod'"
"Sigh... yes, you know, umm...I've hardly turned my I-pod on for weeks...I don't know what I've been doing...but soon! Today I brought my I-pod to work but realized I don't have speakers on this temporary computer I've got."
"Isn't that actionable?"
"I think it could be..."
"You should look into that."
"Yes, I should. And I will..."
Anyway... once I'm in my permanent office, I should be back to my i-Podding, podcasting, web-streaming, i-Tunes using self. The silence is starting to grate on me. "What is this? A library? Oh, I guess it is." Stay tuned for This Week on my I-pod. Any other blog requests? Please send them along.

If this is his taste in birthday gifts, what is he going to do to our country?

From the CBC....
"On the occasion of U.S. President George W. Bush's 60th birthday, Prime Minister Stephen Harper will come calling Thursday with the gift of a brass belt buckle and an RCMP Stetson. . Blah blah blah... During his time in office, Bush has received other gifts from Canadian prime ministers including an Inuit sculpture, valued at $350, from Paul Martin in 2004. In 2003, Jean Chrétien presented Bush with a wooden pen rest, estimated to be worth approximately $20."

You know, I'm starting to miss Jean Chretien; there's a man who knew the art of giftgiving. I'm surprised he didn't toss in a bag of pretzels too.

There's always time for 23 Tim Hortons?

This morning while we headed through the Tim Horton's drive through, I noticed a small sign that says "Our website now has a trip planner." "A trip planner?" I thought, "Hmmm..." So, while taking a small break from biblio-toil, I thought I'd check this trip planner out since it seems so very blogworthy. So, indeed, there is a trip planner and here is what I found out about our morning commute. Did you know that in the estimated 11 minute drive (4.3 miles) from our house to the university, there are 23 Tim Hortons within 2 kilometers of the most expedient route? On the other hand, in the estimated 32 hours, 16 minutes (3161.98 kilometers)driving time between our house and my parents' house in Edmonton there are a mere 44 Tim Hortons within 2 kilometers of the most expedient route. 16 of these Tims are in Windsor. Oh my.

"Oh Canada" and "Oh What a Sad, Bad Little Canadian I Am."

Oh no. I was just sitting down to blog about how CBC has quantifiably exposed my failings as a Canadian when I read my brother's fabulous and inspiring editorial about Canada Day. I now feel even more pathetic about my Canadian-ness and wonder what the newly minted head of Canadian Studies will think of my confession. Well, here goes: apparently, I know more about Superman than I do about Canadian history.

Here's how it happened. It started out innocently enough. I decided to do the CBC Canadian History quiz late last night. Perhaps you know these quizzes. I do them often and do fairly well on them. Earlier in the week, I amazed myself with how much I actually knew about Christopher Walken even though he creeps me out. As you can imagine, I set out to do the Canadian History Quiz with a moderate amount of confidence. I am Canadian; I am a huge history fan; I nearly aced a quiz on Christopher Walken: how hard can this be?
Imagine my horror when I saw the results of my quiz. I cannot even type my score since it's so humiliating. But you're dying to know, aren't you? I'll give you a hint: it's the loneliest number that you'll ever do. Or, here's another hint: picture those big foam fingers you can get at ballparks. That's my score. The loneliest big foam finger of a number that you'll ever do.

I was a bit rattled to get that score so decided I'd try and reboost my confidence by doing the Superman Quiz. I got eight out of ten on that. Apparently, I know more about Superman than my own nation. If there's any hope of redeeming my brother's esteem, I think it's my Superman score. Or, maybe I'd best stick to Skeetersplat.

By Request: Nacho Libre

Thursday, June 29, 2006 7:01 PM Heidi wrote to Dave:
I can't believe I'm emailing this but... We're going to Nacho Libre tonight. Would you like to see it again? We saw Superman last night. I think I'd call it Mediocre Man or Okay Man or Maybe We Should Have Gone To Nacho Libre Instead Man. We're going to the 9:40 one at the mall if you'd like to join us. H

On 6/29/06 7:37 PM, Dave wrote:
Are you sure you're ready for Nacho? Be warned: there are numerous, completely unnecessary fart noises, and a whole lot of utter stupidity. I learned something about myself when I watched it: when it comes to movies, I am an aficionado of both the high brow and the low brow. It's the middle ones I hate. And I must say, though the music is fabulous, that Nacho Libre is about the lowest brow you can get (like neanderthal brow, or gorilla brow). Personally, I loved it, but please don't take that as a recommendation! D

Thursday, June 29, 2006 8:44 PM, Heidi wrote:
> Are you sure you're ready for Nacho?

No... No, I am not. After the roofing, siding, plumbers and baseball games, I'm starting to feel like a Resident Alien in Guy-ville so maybe it won't be so bad. Moreover, we have free passes that will expire tonight and what else is there? Garfield? In the domestic battle of rhetoricians, Dale had "But Dave said Nacho Libre was great!" All I could muster was "But The Lake House has Keanu Reeves." Even I wasn't convinced so Nacho Libre it is. Have fun at Johnny's. See ya, H

On 6/29/06 7:37 PM, Dave wrote:

> PS. (All that said, if you go see it, I think you should publish your review on your blog).

Hmm... OK. I'm ok with taking blog requests so here it is.

Last night, Dale and I had movie passes that expired at midnight so thought we'd go see a film. It was slim pickins at the various theatres and so we ended up going to see "Nacho Libre," in part upon Dave's recommendation. At first, the fun part of going to see Nacho Libre was listening to Dale say "Naaaaaaaaachoooo Leeeeeeeeeee-brraayyyyyy" over and over again in a monster-truck-rally announcer voice. We even roped Tamsin and Danny into coming with us. We gathered nervously at the theatre where we all said "what exactly are we going to see?" but within a few minutes of the movie, we were all laughing and we never stopped. It was an unlikely kind of funny-- not over the top humour but really subtle silly things that built up over the movie. Tamsin admitted her stomach hurt after Nacho's song and I really liked Nacho's wardrobe (especially his ill-fitting powder blue civilian wear). All in all, it was a fun little film but I think the secret of it is to expect very little and then be open to its quirky weirdness. As Dave's email notes, it doesn't try to be high brow or even middle brow and that's ok. It does what it does well.
The night before we had gone to see Superman Returns which had some nice moments but was sadly a bit of a yawner. About half way through Nacho Libre, I began thinking about how chance pairings of films can happen and how odd it is to see two films about men in capes in less than 24 hours. Being a recovering English scholar, I started thinking about the potentials for conference papers in this pairing. You have to know that some how, somewhere, someone's going to get up at a conference to read a paper called "Superman versus Nacho Libre: (Re)(De)Constructing American Manhood in Post 9-11 America Superhero Narratives." Because I have witnessed such things I can see it in painful clarity: conference goers will shift in their uncomfortable seats, furrow their brows in mock concentration and politely listen. Perhaps, if they're friendly, they'll nod once or twice. After the conference, this paper will go on a CV for eternity and make the departmental newsletter; a full article will be developed in the next academic year and might even make the rounds of journals until the author grows weary of reading reviews that say "who is this Nacho Libre?" or "I take issue with your simplistic revisionist comparison of Nacho Libre with Che Guevara." Thus, it's probably best that this film not become the core of someone's scholarly outpourings but you know that somewhere someone will attempt it.
I have no idea what "Nacho Libre" has to contribute to American culture except for 90 minutes of well-crafted silliness and that's perfectly fine. I think America needs more silliness lately. If you don't go see it, at least say "Naaaaaaaaachoooo Leeeeeeeeeee-brraayyyyyy" out loud a few times; that's fun too.

Canadian Lit and Crabtree & Evelyn

This weekend we were in Stratford for our friends' wedding-- it was a beautiful day and a beautiful wedding. Adding to the great weekend was our stay in a very nice small inn. It had all the things that make me addicted to lovely hotels: real art by local artists on the walls, walls the perfect shade of blue, linens of a quality I can only aspire to own one day, Crabtree & Evelyn soaps, and fresh cookies waiting for us upon arrival. The coolest part of this inn (and, I think, the real reason I chose it) was that their website advertised "In-room Canadian book library." I was intrigued. Sure enough, as promised, our room had a selection of 5 or 6 recent Canadian novels on the desk. This is a great way to introduce people to Canadian fiction and Canadian writers. I really think it's time someone other than the Gideons put books in hotels, don't you?

It better not be Prof. Snape

From CBC.ca At least two characters will die in the final instalment of her bestselling Harry Potter series, author J.K. Rowling has revealed.

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

My father often says, "close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." And, indeed, he's usually right about this.
Some might say that close doesn't count in the Stanley Cup: you win it or you don't. However, I contend that the Oilers' closeness to the Stanley Cup actually does count for something. The Oilers didn't win Game 7 but over the past weeks, they gave us some of the best hockey we've seen in years. They inspired a city to be proud of itself. They showed the league that small market Canadian teams are powerful entities that define what hockey means in this nation. And, above all, they showed what class is by refusing to dishonour other nations' anthems. Finally, they showed all of us that you can't discount anyone. The Oilers barely made the play-offs and people wrote them off at the beginning of their first few series. My father also says, "it isn't over til it's over" and the Oilers proved that over and over again. In terms of horseshoes and hand grenades, my father is a flexible man and I think he'd agree with me that sometimes close does actually count for something. In the case of the Oilers, close counts, at least for this fan. You all but won the Cup and that's more than we could have imagined six months ago. Thanks for some amazing hockey Oilers! You remain my good and virtous Oilers. And, besides, I've watched this team enough over the years to know hell hath no fury like the Oilers scorned. Y'all better watch out next year...

Hockey gods, make it so.

and

My very first patrons!

Yesterday I hit my upload limit on Flickr (which I've never done before) and didn't get much farther than thinking "I should really upgrade to Flickr Pro." Today, I got notice that the kind and lovely Danny and Tamsin upgraded my account last night. Bless them. I think they're my first patrons. So, thanks to them, I've been uploading and organzing happily this afternoon as the temperature outside crept up to an unpleasant high of 31oC (or 34 if you believe in the Humidex). I've set up a new set of NY photos; Newfoundland's will be coming when the scanning muse hits me next. Re my Flickr site: chances are, if you're reading this, I've already signed you on to view my Flickr site. If not, let me know. Oh, one more thing. Go good and virtous Oilers! Go!

Farewell Mr Dressup!

This just in from the CBC: no more Mr. Dressup reruns.
"The tickle trunk will be closed for the last time in September, as CBC officially retires Mr. Dressup. As of July 3, the show moves from every weekday at 11 a.m. to Sunday morning only and the last broadcast of the much-loved children's show takes place Sept. 3."
It's a sad day in Canada. I adored Mr Dressup! I remember a few years ago, someone who might prefer not to be named and I were watching a show about Canadian TV shows for children. They interviewed a half dozen people of varying ages about Mr Dressup. Person after person got choked up talking about how much they loved Mr Dressup, Casey and Finnegan. I looked over at my unnamed companion and both of us had tears too. Although I've not watched it in years, I'm pleased to see it's on DVD.

Colm Toibin wins Impac Award

I was thrilled to see Toibin has won the Impac for his fabulous novel The Master. His previous book The Blackwater Lightship is also amazing and worth checking out. I was pleased to see Toibin's nod to Alistair MacLeod's near-perfect novel No Great Mischief, which won the prize in 2001. I didn't know until just now that Thomas Wharton, a fellow UofA English grad, was shortlisted for the prize for his novel The Logogryph; excellent news!

"Hello Cleveland!" and Other Desultory Thoughts of the Week

Somehow, being on holiday is freeing my mind up considerably. I wish I could say I'm writing pages and pages on my novel or developing a solution for the shrinking polar ice cap with this new found mental space. I must admit to be rather alarmed at what my unoccupied brain amuses itself with (see the last posting, for example). Since I've actually had 3 requests for my adventures at the drycleaners (one even seemed almost sincere), I'll offer you a few of these random thoughts since not a lot happens at the drycleaners. You may join me in thinking it's time I went back to work.

1. Physics and my Discman. In the past week, my poor Sports Discman has had two rather unfortunate tumbles; in both cases, it emerged without a scratch though one was a very close call. These mishaps have, in an uncharacteristic mental move, led me to consider the physics of discmans. Since I failed Physics 10 (actually, I dropped it before I could officially fail it), I cannot provide an accurate answer to the following physics questions I've been pondering. I offer these questions to you in case you're really bored at work. Question A: After being dropped from a height of 4 feet onto a treadmill moving at 6 K/hr, at what velocity does a Discman hit the wall 5 feet away? All I know is it made a spectacular "wwwwwwwhhapp!" sound, followed by a small whimper from me. Miraculously, its only injury was a slightly dislodged battery which was easily remedied. Question B: How much harder would I have had to accidentally fling my discman out of my backpack while dislodging my bike lock so that, after bouncing three times, it would land under a moving car not just in the intersection? Drivers in neighboring cars watched its trajectory and joined me in saying, "ooohhh...." as it landed a mere foot away from a car's tire. Again, not a scratch on it and it started up cheerfully as always. Like I said, I have no idea how one might answer these questions but I have resolved that my impulse to bring my trusty tank-like discman to the gym rather than my iPod is a very good one indeed.

2. The weight room at my gym pipes in 80s music. At one point I wondered if Steve Perry from Journey is Alvin the Chipmunk all grown up. Perhaps a far-fetched idea but next time you hear Journey, think about it.

3. Riddle me this. Last night Dale and I went to see The Bottle Rockets and Bobby Bare, Jr at the Magic Stick in Detroit. It was a 10$ cover and there's a bar downstairs. Why do people pay the 10$ and then spend the _entire_ show yelling over the music? Why not go downstairs? And, why, after the band dedicates a song to "the pretty ladies in the front row who talked through the first two songs" do they continue? Why? (why why Delilah)

4. Add to my list of missing quotations from film, anything from Spinal Tap. There's always the classics like, "These go to eleven" or "You can't really dust for vomit." I might nominate, "Hello Cleveland!" or "It's like, how much more black could this be? and the answer is none. None more black."

"There's no basement in the Alamo"

Here's a website my Mum sent "for your Sunday amusement." AFI's 100 YEARS...100 MOVIE QUOTES As predicted, it did amuse me on this fine sunny Sunday. However, as I emailed my mum, I was dimayed at the absence of quotations from Pee Wee's Big Adventure. IMDB's site has a wealth of them. Perhaps there aren't any on this list because it's impossible to choose just one (she says with naive and perhaps misguided optimism)? Who can resist, "Biker #1: Did anybody tell you that this is the private club of the Satan's Helpers? Pee-wee: Nobody hipped me to that, dude." Or, what about this, "Texan: What's your name? Pee-wee: I don't remember. Texan: Where are you from? Pee-wee: I don't remember. Texan: Do you remember anything? Pee-wee: I remember... the Alamo. [Texans cheer]." Ah, Pee Wee's Big Adventure... it sure makes my Top 100 list.

How did I do without a phrase like this before?

This just in from Alec: "Phrase of the Day: to pop one's clogs"
pop, v.1 17. trans. colloq. (chiefly Brit.) [Perh. after sense 8, although cf. also sense 9a.] to pop one's clogs: to die. Also fig.: to cease to exist.
 
1970 Pick of Punch 186 He was forced to retire in 1933 after a disastrous Catholic/Protestant punch-up among the bugs. He's just popped his clogs. 1976 Times 14 Dec. 10/4 When she pops her slender clogs in next week's concluding part, who knows but that I may not shed a tear myself? 1983 G. MACDONALD FRASER Pyrates vi. 108 It's either join us or pop your clogs. 1993 T. BARNES Taped (BNC) 127 ‘So is the company going bust?’ ‘Oh no, nothing like that. TVL's got problems, but no one says it's going to pop its clogs.’ 2003 Independent on Sunday 19 Oct. (Life Etc section) 2/4 There's been precious little monumental waywardness in literary circles since Hemingway popped his clogs.

Feeling glum about the Oilers?

Dale found this Oilers Fanimals website that should revive your team spirit.

Word of the Day: Try This at Home!

Since I've already outed myself as a nerd, I really shouldn't worry about exposing the depths of my nerdiness. Nevertheless, I hesitate to share the fact that I do subscribe to the Word of the Day listserv. Today's word is particularly lovely so I'll just have to bite the nerdy bullet. Honorificabilitudinity (ON-uh-rif-i-kay-bi-li-too-DIN-i-tee-), a noun meaning Honorableness. [From Medieval Latin honorificabilitudinitas, from Latin honor.] Another form of this, honorificabilitudinitatibus (27 letters), is the longest word Shakespeare ever used. It comes out of the mouth of Costard, the clown, in Love's Labour's Lost: "I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word;/ for thou art not so long by the head as/ honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier/ swallowed than a flap-dragon." Use it in a sentence-- I double dog dare you.

Day 7: Ode to Newfoundland: “We love thee wind-swept land/ We love thee, we love thee.”

I write this from our car; we’re driving back to Windsor from the Toronto Airport. I feel like a total nerd opening up my laptop on the highway but we’ve been sitting almost stationary on the 401 for almost an hour. I fear there's a bad accident ahead and hope I am mistaken. I’ve been sitting here thinking about our trip for almost that whole hour. It already seems like a dream so I’m hoping writing this will be a way of making it all seem real. Just as last week I marveled at being one place and then another radically different place a few hours later, I’m feeling the same way right now. This trip has been dreamlike; I think both of us are wondering if we dreamed it all.

In my last entry, I mentioned that we got tickets for a chamber opera. We knew very little about it but thought it sounded interesting and we had nothing else planned. As we picked up our tickets, the volunteer asked us "who we had" in the show. She seemed surprised when we said no one. It became quickly apparent to us that we might have been the only people in the almost sold out auditorium who were not related to a chorister. I think we were both a bit nervous that we’d wandered into, well, you know the kind of events only parents and grandparents attend. We had no idea that we’d be treated to one of the most moving theatrical events we’ve ever been to. As the website describes “Ann and Seamus” is a chamber opera (music and libretto by Stephen Hatfield) based on a verse novel by Kevin Major which is based on a true story. In 1828, Ann Harvey, a 17 year old Newfoundlander, and her family rescued 168 people who had been shipwrecked. The story is compelling but the staging of this opera is even more amazing. The performance began with a panel discussion wherein participants talked about the music and staging of this event. It was performed by two casts of 55 choristers ranging in age from 7 to 17 (that’s 110 kids!); they had two complete casts who each performed two nights so that more children could be involved in this tremendous opportunity. They also talked about how the choristers would form the set, the props, the characters: there were 5 or 6 colours of simple costumes each with a small sheer cape in the same colour as their costume. As I re-read the program, I see the colours were inspired by the paintings of Christopher Pratt (remember this). These simple but malleable costumes allowed choristers to be rocks, storms, water, waves, boats or even characters seamlessly and fluidly. The music was incredible, the performers top notch and the staging evocative and original: the performance was stellar. The other moving part of this event was the impulse behind the performance. The producer and musical director, Susan Knight, talked about the need for the young people of Newfoundland and Labrador to learn about their history, learn about courage and learn about leadership through participating in this fabulous experience. The performance ended with cast and audience singing the Newfoundland anthem. It was happenstance that we ended up there but it was a moving ending to the last evening of our trip. I don’t think either of us wanted go to sleep since we didn’t want our last day in Newfoundland to end.

We’re at highway speeds again… more later (PS: Dale is, of course, driving in case you’re worried)

Later: On our final morning, we packed up our lovely room and had a hard time saying goodbye to the very kind staff at our B&B (it was recommended by Julia’s mum and I can’t recommend it highly enough either). Michelle said, “I’m going to miss you two” and the feeling was certainly mutual. I thoroughly enjoyed everyone we met there. Dale and I both felt like we were leaving friends; we’d have liked to have said goodbye to Ally too. We had a bit of time left and I had film left in my camera so we headed back to The Rooms since we both wanted to see the sound installation (or ‘sonic sculpture’ as someone called it) and I wanted to get a photo of the view of the harbour I’d described earlier. Happily, the night before, there was an opening of Christopher Pratt’s traveling exhibit that I’d read about in the Globe last year and also declined seeing when we were in the National Gallery in Ottawa this fall. I remember the review in the Globe saying that there is more to Pratt’s work than initially meets the eye and I found this to be true. I was also very happy that I saw this exhibit here, rather than in Ottawa last November. I’m not sure I would have understood or appreciated his work as much. Seeing his paintings after seeing the Newfoundland landscape filled in a lot of pieces for me and I became a huge Pratt fan after seeing this show. Having seen some of the Newfoundland landscapes made me see these paintings differently, and his works made me re-vision what I’d seen over the past week. As I looked at Pratt’s paintings, I knew we’d be heading out to the airport within the hour and so going to this exhibit was sort of a farewell to Newfoundland. Knowing this made some of his quotations resonate with me: “I have always had a sense that there is an immense presence in ordinariness, in the dignity of things that have nothing going for them beyond the fact of their existence”; and “I knew very early on that the word ‘place’ had many overtones, that there are places of the spirit, soul, imagination— of fantasy and nightmare— places of the mind.” I scribbled down these quotations from the exhibit cards—they seemed a perfect closure and sendoff for this fabulous week.

As our plane took off and I looked down at the cliffs, I felt like I was leaving home; it’s an odd sensation to feel after only being in a place for one week. We left feeling like we were not only leaving a place and a space we learned to love but were also leaving some wonderful friends. I also left feeling like you’re supposed to after a journey— utterly transformed and amazed by the experience. I’m writing this from my upstairs office at home now and on my way up, I looked at the stones I collected from St Vincents. I put them on the ledge by the stairs so each day they’ll be there as a reminder of a magical time and place.

Anyway, that’s all folks. Thanks for reading and for sending your nice comments. I’m getting my (gulp) 8 rolls of film developed tomorrow and hope to have some photos of New York and Newfoundland up on my Flickr site soon. I think all of you have passwords to my Flickr site—if not, let me know and I’ll set you up.

Also, in response to the kind visitor to Heidi’s Café who said, “and i WOULD be interested the continuing adventures of dale and heidi (esp. when you go to the drycleaners... that's great stuff)”—umm, sorry, that’s probably not going to happen. Today’s entry would have been called “Oh! So that’s what happens when you don’t put the coffee filter in the coffee machine” or “Hmm… who knew that 12 cups of grounds laden coffee silently spewing from the coffee filter-less machine could fill my entire kitchen counter unbeknownst to me as I read the paper in the next room?” Besides, gentle reader, don’t you get enough of those tales in my inter-inning (and, ok, intra-inning) chatter at the ballpark?

Day 7: The physics of hiking: what goes down must also come back up again

Today is our last real day to do much of anything here. I’m trying not to think about leaving but did spot a nice looking hotel that offers monthly rates—it’s very tempting though I’m not sure the cats or cat sitters would appreciate that very much. It’s a grey and foggy day here and every once and a while I could see my breath. This morning, we set out to do the last leg of our hike from the other day but the fog was so thick we decided we’d not see much at all so did a bit of driving, picked up some more lovely stones and then went back to St Johns to pick up some tickets for a chamber opera performance we read about. While Dale was doing that, I took some pictures of the above mentioned Newfoundland dog sculpture. As I approached, I was pleased to see an elderly couple patting its head and talking to it as I had done a few days ago. They were speaking a foreign language but using my rudimentary knowledge of linguistics I was able to translate their sentence. They were saying, “Ooh, who’s the cute Newf?”
We also thought it would be nice to go back to Signal Hill since it wasn’t as blustery a day as our first day up there. While atop Signal Hill, I stared across and noticed how The Rooms seem to dwarf all other structures on the horizon. I see how this structure has caused controversy; it really is massive and, apparently, over budget. We also noticed a trail that took you down to some pretty spectacular places so we thought we’d go down. And, while down there, we thought we’d go a bit further. And then a bit further. And, then, well, we wondered if we should go ahead or back. I figured we were half way so why not finish the loop. [Note to my Mum: stop reading here] I had forgotten, until we got to it, that the guidebook warns “If you do the complete walk, there are numerous sections where only 1.5 m of terra firm and an iron chain hammered into the rock separate you from a 61 m drop.” [Note to my Mum: ok, you can pick up again here]. Oddly, my fear of heights didn’t kick in—perhaps because the view was so lovely. I had also forgotten (or neglected to consider) that when you park your car at the top of a hill and then descend that hill, you must climb that hill again. Stupidly, I’d not taken the rocks out of my pocket before we left. My guide book says there are 896 steps descending so the climb back was a bit of an awakening. But, the view from the trail was worth any sore muscle that may ensue. Any caloric benefit of this hike was quickly negated by lunch. Dale was finally able to find his holy grail lunch called the Jiggs Dinner and I had some fish and chips. Tomorrow will probably be my last entry; it’s been such a fantastic trip, it’s hard to believe it’s real.

Day 6: Step Four: Thank the driver

Prefatory Note: I really didn’t mean to write in this blog every day. However, each day I’ve received an email or IM from someone asking about the next installment. You’re a demanding lot (especially she who wrote “We’re addicted to your travel blog” and then suggested I quit my new job and not come home at all). Thanks— thought, it’s nice to know there’s an audience. Rest assured, I won’t be doing this once I return home. Can you imagine? “Today I went to the bank and paid our utility bill and my cell phone bill. I then stopped by the drycleaner. After that I went to the gym where I burned 640 calories…Oh, and it was trash day so dragged this bins to the corner.”

Dale and I have both been amazed by the kind welcome we’ve felt everyday we’ve been here and everywhere we’ve been. This morning, I was reflecting upon the kind people of Newfoundland and, mid-reflection, I saw a street sign that seemed to make sense of it all. The sign had 4 steps for safe pedestrian crossing: 1. Put arm out into the street; 2. Step off sidewalk 3. Wait for cars to stop. 4. Thank the driver. Thank the driver! I love that “thank the driver” made it through whatever city committee is responsible for making road signs and that politeness was determined to be a rule of the road. Even more miraculous is that drivers actually stop (even if you don’t hold your arm out into the motorway like you’re walking a giant invisible dog). Niceness was the thought of the day for me. In a shop we stopped at this afternoon (silly me to think you can just pop in and out of shops!), the shopkeeper chatted with us for about ½ an hour. She told us that a tourist last summer told her that upon arriving in St John’s, he had mistaken a private residence for a B&B. The owner of the house invited him in, gave him some tea, gave him a tour of their house and then took him to the B&B. It doesn’t sound all that far-fetched at all.

Perhaps my meditation on kindness came from last night. Last night, certainly confirmed our sense of the friendliness of Newfoundlanders; everyone we’ve met seems committed to ensuring we have a fun, educational and enjoyable trip. Last night we returned to the bar were we met the New Zealanders and had $3 Guinness and 2 for $5 bottled beer. Ally, the cute bartender-ess, greeted us like long lost friends when we walked in. She introduced us to various people in the bar and told us about the rest of our New Zealand friends’ evening in St John’s. We told her we were going to see Ron Hynes at the Rose and Thistle and she told us about a couple who go to almost all of his shows. After our Guinness, we headed off to The Ship to hear some music. I don’t think I mentioned this but bars in St. John’s are all non-smoking; I love being able to go hear some music and still be able to breathe. It’s an amazing experience and I’m excited that Ontario is, as of today, also non-smoking. I raise this because Ally told us that, if we wanted to, after seeing Ron Hynes, we could come back to her bar with take-out coffee cups from the café across the street. She’d fill them with Guinness if we wanted: “That way you can drink and smoke and you won’t get a ticket for consuming alcohol in public. And if the cops start to hassle you, you just drop the cup and say, ‘oops, I just dropped my coffee.’” Seeing as we’re nonsmokers, it’s not something we’d take her up on but still I was touched by her generosity of spirit. I pass this tip onto you in case you’re in St. John’s and want to drink and smoke on the streets. We left there and then walked to the Ship. After a set or two of music, we headed over to the Rose and Thistle—passing Ally’s bar where she was standing outside. She yelled “Hi guys!!!” from across the street and we exchanged waves.

We did see the famous Ron Hynes. He is a definite institution here and for good reason. He’s one of those rare singer songwriters in the Ian Tyson, Tom Russell, John Hiatt vein. It was a great show; I expect you’ll be able to hear some of his most recent album on Dale’s radio show next week. Apparently, he’s been playing around here for 30 years. One person I talked with sang along to all of his songs and confessed she’s been following him for most of those 30 years. After the first few songs, a man came over and invited us to join him and his wife: “Ally told us you’d be here.” Ah, Ally, bless her heart. This was the couple she told us about and I see she told them about us. They were both very interesting and kind and inquired into our trip and offered advice about what to do and where to go. This is what I was saying about the kindness and generosity extended to us by everyone.

This morning we were a bit tired from a late night and our long hike yesterday. It was also rainy and grey and thus seemed to be a perfect day just to wander around St. John’s. We started off going to The Rooms, which is a spectacular new building (opened in June 2005) that is a combination Museum, Art Gallery and Provincial Archives. Since all three of those institutions are dear to my heart, I’m thrilled to see a government putting funding toward these groups and, more importantly, funding a forward thinking and impressive piece of architecture that should serve Newfoundlanders for generations. You can see this building from numerous points in St John’s and I like the symbolism of that. I also like the fact that the building has expansive windows that allow you to view the city and harbour as a work of art or a museum exhibit. I like how The Rooms and the city are synergistically connected in a visual way; I hope it’s a metaphor for the actual relationships.

We saw two really great exhibits. One was one I kept missing in other cities and was glad to finally catch up to it here: Janet Cardiff’s “Forty-Part Motet” which is a really evocative sound installation.
The other is Douglas Coupland’s “Play Again” which, come to think of it, has some interesting connections with the Cardiff exhibit—though, it was about words rather than sounds.
Tomorrow’s our last real day to do things—I’m already feeling sad about leaving. Upon hearing we were going to Newfoundland, my brother Paul’s prediction has come true: “You’ll love it; you won’t want to leave.” Anyway… will write more tomorrow. PS, if anyone knows why Newfoundland time is half an hour different rather than an hour, I’d be interested in knowing why.

Day 5: Call me Ahab

I’ve just woken up from a nap. Today we went back to Cape Spear and did an 8 km hike from Cape Spear to a place whose name I need to look up. I can find no words to describe how beautiful it was. The above picture is from the trail association website and it gives you a sense of the terrain. Our hike took us about 3 hours and in that time we only passed one other group of hikers. For 95% of the hike, we saw so sign of humans or human civilization (other than the occasional trail marker). It was a lovely sunny day but still we were pretty layered up due to the wind. I had hair in my eyes like a highland steer for most of the trip. The terrain was so lovely—rocky yet gentle hills, perfect blue sky and royal blue water. It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. You may remember from a previous entry that I saw whale spouts at Cape Spear before. At the little shop at Cape Spear, the shopkeeper told us that this was a humpback whale and the small whales we saw on the ferry were minke whales. She said, “keep your eye out for whales on your hike.” The whole hike, I kept looking and hoping to see another whale spout. I felt a little Ahab-ish in my quest to see whales (although my motivations were much more warm and fuzzy than his were). They seemed not to respond to ‘Oh whaaaaale…’ or even the funny whale dance I invented until the last 10 minutes of our hike. I finally saw the elusive spout and Dale and I watched minke and humpback whales for a good twenty minutes. I like to think it was the whale dance that brought them out. It was the most incredible thing to watch and the perfect way to end an otherworldly venture. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die—if this is true, I hope this is one of the moments I see again. Tonight we’re off to see Ron Hynes… more, perhaps, tonight.

Day 4: "I'm sorry, there is no moose tonight"

I’m writing this at 5 ish—I’m exhausted (or, perhaps just caffeine deprived…) and taking a wee break. Today was primarily a driving day again—each day, it seems we head out planning to find a hike but find the open road so addicting that our hiking plans come to naught: every corner, every hill seems to bring a new surprise and an in unison “wow.” Yesterday we did about a third of the Irish Loop. We stopped just past Ferryland where the Colony of Avalon is; it is the first successful colony in Newfoundland, established in 1621. It is also the setting of Wayne Johnston’s Baltimore’s Mansion. Today, intrigued by the guide book’s mention of being able to see whales from the shore near St. Vincent, we headed the other way down the Irish Loop. It’s still a bit early for the whales and we didn’t really look for very long since we were mesmerized by the vibrant blue of the ocean and the open skies around us. Right now, I’ve got a small handful of perfect oval stones I picked up off the beach at St. Vincent beside me—they’re warm green, purple, and blue and the smoothest surface imaginable. South and west of there, is Cape Race where the Titanic sunk. After St. Vincents, we headed back up and over to Brigus—an amazingly picturesque town.

While on the Trans Canada highway, I read some of the Newfoundland history in my guidebook and found out some things that I’m sure everyone already knows. I bet I wasn’t paying attention that day in school. For example, Newfoundland was an independent British colony until 1949 with their own currency and postage. And, that the vote to join Canada was very close: 51% supporting and 49% opposing. And I also know why my Mum laughed so hard when I asked “how old is he?!” after hearing Joey Smallwood referred to as the only living Father of Confederation. I do remember mentally scanning that famous painting looking for a toddler and calculating that even if he were two at the time of confederation, Smallwood would be at least… well, it’s too embarrassing to tell you how old I thought he was since you could then calculate how old I was when I thought that. I’ll just say, I was old enough to have known better.

We’re both quite taken with how quickly the landscape changes. Sometimes it looks like central Alberta, other times it looks like Maine, other times it looks like Algonquin Park, and sometimes it looks like Colorado. More often than not, it looks like nothing else we’ve seen before: each cove and town have their own distinct look and feel. But, as I mentioned, there was a fair bit of the terrain that looked like western central Alberta and, with the open skies, I was thinking a lot about Alberta. It’s not hard to do since Alberta has come up almost everyplace we go and we’re not the ones who bring it up. At the play we went to, people were talking about moving to Alberta; a bartender lived in Sherwood Park, another group of people somewhere else were talking about someone who moved to Alberta and the B&B owner knows someone working in Edmonton. Around St. Vincent, we stopped at one of the few little stores around there and bought a pineapple Crush (never had one before). While there, we talked with the lady who has run the shop for 23 years. Her daughter left Newfoundland at 19 to go work in Alberta and it was obvious she misses her horribly. But, as she said, there’s no work here and so her daughter set out to Alberta where she knew not a soul. A few hours later, we had lunch at a café and one of the people just moved back to Newfoundland from living in Edmonton for 23 years (she too worked in West Edmonton Mall near the dolphin show). I’ve probably met more people who have lived in Edmonton in the past three days than I have in the past twelve years. There’s a strong sense of loss that people seem to have when they talk about the friends and family who have gone west but also a resignation that you need to go where the work is. I certainly understand this since Dale and I went to the US and then to Ontario following work opportunities and my brother Paul and his family are in the US now too. But, as my dad reminded me a while ago, we are descended from people who have followed work across oceans, countries and provinces. Still, I wonder if there’s a Newfoundlander looking out over the expanse of grain fields in Alberta and thinking of oceans just as I’m looking out over the ocean and thinking about fields of wheat.

Postscript: 10PM we went out for dinner and saw some other interesting things. First of all, lest the hipness of St Johnsonians ever be questioned, get this: on a patch of new cement, one local didn’t just sign his or her name—he or she immortalized their homepage’s url in a piece of downtown sidewalk. Also, as if this city isn’t cool enough, they have statues of the Labrador Retriever and the Newfoundland right downtown. They also have a plaque with Lord Byron’s poem about his dearly departed Newf , Boatswain. I mistakenly assumed we were alone in the town square and was caught saying, “ohh….who’s the cute Newf??’ as I scratched the Newf sculpture’s chin and patted his head. Dale, bless him, takes these things in stride and acts like they’re everyday occurrences; well, I guess, they are everyday occurrences. Our evening, I think, was topped off at dinner when our waitress tentatively approached our table and said with great solemnity, “just to let you know, there’s no moose tonight.” I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore and, you know, I’m ok with that.

Day 3; [HR] Puffin Stuff

Today the day started with blue skies and warm temperatures. It seemed like the perfect kind of day to go check out the heretofore mythical puffins. We went to Bay Bulls to take a 2 and a half hour whale and puffin viewing boat trip. It was, thankfully, not a “three hour tour” since we all know what happens to three hour tours; one of our neighbours already calls us “the professor and Maryanne”—a three hour tour seemed like tempting fate. This trip was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had; I’d never really been out on the Atlantic and it was exhilarating. This is the beginning of the whale season and we didn’t see any whales but it didn’t bother me much since the puffins were so magical. We were able to get very close to Gull Island and Green Island and see thousands and thousands of birds. I also learned a number of things about the puffin. Did you know that baby puffins are called “pufflings” (isn’t that a great word?)? And, that after they are full grown they leave the island of their birth and then go to sea for 2-3 years and then return to the very burrow in which they were born? They live for an average of 20 some years and mate for life (“good Catholic birds” our tour guide told us). In order to fly, they must flap their wings 300 times per minute. They’re really neat to see. Our tour was quite magical; between narrations, they played Great Big Sea songs and our tour guide sang a number of songs including a really captivating narrative song about the rescue of a horse who had fallen through the ice: by the final verse, I was near tears and greatly relieved to hear the horse survived!

After our tour, the weather turned colder and rainy so we put off hiking again. We started on a southerly drive that took us on the Irish Loop. Just as we thought we’d never see anything as lovely, we crested a hill or turned a corner and saw something even more stunning. Around every corner there was some new vista or site that took our breath away. I was also amused to see that each town we passed seemed to have a geriatric dog and a round-headed boy on a bike. The dogs all had a knowing look to them—like a canine Yoda. Once, we stopped for a cup of coffee. I was taking photos of a breathtaking cove while Dale went in. As I was taking pictures, I noticed a very geriatric sheltie with matted fur ambling about. I noticed that he methodically peed on each tire of a car parked next to ours. As he finished the fourth tire, our eyes met. He came over to see me and I tried to engage him in conversation. After some awkward silences, he raised his matted snout as a person might tap the brim of a hat. He then proceeded to pee on each of our front tires while maintaining eye contact with me. I said, “You go little buddy—it’s a rental.’ He nodded and set off on his regal doggy way, stopping traffic as he proceeded.

Dale came out of the restaurant with a Tim Horton’s cup and I excitedly said, “They’ve got Tim’s coffee here??!?” No. Seems they didn’t have lids so they offered to rinse out and refill the Tim’s cup Dale brought into the restaurant to throw out. My excitement at the prospect of Tim’s made me realize I’m a real Ontarian now. “How is the coffee?” I said. “Warm,” Dale said. After our boat trip, warm was all we really wanted. We stood, amazed, at the view in front of us and smiled at the aged sheltie. No matter how my photos turn out, they’ll never capture what we saw and felt at that moment.

In our few days here, we’ve been so impressed with the people here—they’ve all welcomed us so fully and everyone has been so excited to offer restaurant or sightseeing advice. Even tonight, a couple noticed us looking at menus and offered capsule reviews of four or five places they liked. People have been genuinely kind and sincerely hospitable and I’ve never felt more welcome in a place I’ve visited before.

We ended our evening in a few pubs sampling Newfoundland beers. We went to the Rose and Thistle because our friend Julia said we had to go there; in an odd coincidence, the song playing when we walked in was called “Julia.” Eeeeerie. The next place we went had a guy singing and playing guitar. At one point he stopped and said, “Does anyone have any duct tape?” Pause. No answer. Awkward pause. “Oh well,” he said and continued playing. Not sure what tomorrow will bring but even if it’s half as fantastic as today, it will be amazing.

Day 2: Call me Ishmael

Somehow (perhaps by naming my last entry Day 1?), I’ve set up some expectations that I’d blog each day about our trip. And, so, I find myself back at it. First of all, I woke up thinking “I just had a wonderful dream about the Oilers going to the Stanley Cup.” But, ha ha! Tis real not an aery nothing! Wee hee!

The weather today was a bit iffy and so we plotted out a bit of a drive instead of hiking. We first went to Cape Spear, which you may remember from those CBC shorts, is the most easterly point in all of North America. We ended up spending quite a bit of time there—in part, because the terrain was so stunning and but also because I’d seen whale spouts and was absolutely thrilled by the prospect of seeing more. Seeing whale spouts while standing on a sublime precipice was, for me, one of the most remarkable moments. Last week I was organizing some of my childhood books my parents mailed me and I came across my Animals of Canada book. I remember the day I got it and I remember reading it over and over and over and learning about animals, like whales and puffins, that I thought I’d never see. It’s odd for a prairie kid to find herself scanning the ocean horizon and actually seeing whales. On the other hand, when I looked out to the infinite horizon and listened to the waves, the water looked and sounded strangely similar to windy days in the middle of a Saskatchewan wheat field. Still, I thought it odd to be standing in Canada and closer to Ireland than Alberta.

Later in the day, we took the ferry to Bell Island after a fabulous lunch of fish and chips and cod au gratin. On the ferry, Dale and I saw 2 actual whales (or one swiftly moving one?) I still am aglow from the experience. The two other tourists on the ferry were laughing at their digital pictures of the whale and were debating on whether family and friends would see the photos as valid pictorial evidence. We did some driving around Bell Island and saw some lovely country. I was intrigued to find what may be the most beautiful and lonely baseball diamond in all of Canada (it’s just around the corner from Exile street!). And, was amazed to see that grazing horses were tethered rather than corralled; though it alarmed me at first, they seemed perfectly fine and ok with the system.

Tonight we went to a fundraiser for one of the local theatre companies. It was a very interesting premise: 4 writers, 4 actors and 4 directors would have 24 hours to write, produce and perform 4 scenes. Apparently at 8PM yesterday, 4 writers were given a first line (“Can’t you play by the rules just this one time?”) and two props they had to use (a journal and dental floss). After they finished the play, the directors and actors set about staging it and then performing it. One was really compelling, one very good, one interesting and one, umm, had potential.

Now, we’re watching the Hurricanes game—our second favorite team… it’s 3-3 in the third period. And, while I'm thinking of it, as of this morning, our favourite baseball team, the Tigers are now the winningest team in both leagues. Are you noticing a trend here? I think I should buy some lottery tickets. Oh, and we had Newfie Fog ice cream on the way back from the play. Mmmm… Tomorrow, we propose to perambulate and, perchance, ponder the preponderance of peripatetic Puffins. That blog will be brought to you by the letter “P” and the number 8.

Day One in Newfoundland; Columbia Doesn’t Fib

Travel, especially by air, is an odd thing. This morning we woke up in a hotel by the airport in Mississauga, a few hours later we were being tossed about by the winds on Signal Hill in St Johns, Newfoundland. While atop Signal Hill, we fully understood why our Frommers guide advises not to bring pets and small children up to the top of the hill: “the winds here can get very high and could literally pull a small child out of your arms.” Hmmm, I thought. But, once there, I started to believe it. One moment I was on the sidewalk, the next, I was not. On the upside, I did quickly verify that my new Columbia Titanium jacket is indeed as wind and waterproof as they promised. I really thought that if I’d been wearing my contacts, they’d have been a sea in no time. I think I saw some flakes of snow this afternoon—though, to make our B and B host feel a bit better, I told him I might have been mistaken-- it could have been “fluffy floating rain.” I think the high in Windsor was supposed to be in the upper 20s C or low 30s. The day before yesterday, I trimmed back my tulips—here, daffodils are just blooming.

After dinner, we went to a bar that offered 3$ Guinness and 2 for 5$ bottled beers. In the near empty pub, we met two cool guys from New Zealand who, with two other people, started out in Vancouver and then drove across Canada in a van in a little over 2 weeks. One of them showed me his photos and short videos on his tiny and impressive Canon digital camera. “This is me just after I met a bear…see, there he is. We just stared at each other for a few minutes. I took this photo before backing away.” Oh my. “Oh, this is the moose we saw.” “Please tell me,” I said, “you didn’t get that close to the buffalo you said you saw.” ‘Mmmm… ," he reflected, "not really.” He also showed me photos of the Viking settlements and an iceberg they saw a few days ago. And photos of the McLobster you can get at local McDonalds. It was all pretty impressive (McLobster, not so impressive though I love that they took a photo of it); they had seen more of Canada in their two weeks than, I would guess, 95% of Canadians have seen. They seemed to have been pretty thoughtful, reflective travelers. My new pal worked as a metal worker in the film industry and made a table in XMen III! Unlike the biker I encountered in New Hampshire who swore he sold Kraft Foods his recipe for their Kraft BBQ Sauce, I actually believe him.

In our quest to know a region through its beers, we sampled a number of beers including Black Horse. The bartender said, “Is this your first Black Horse/? Well, it’s like good beer strained through a dirty sock.” Hmm…thanks for telling us after we ordered. Anyway, after the Black Horse, our New Zealand friend suggested the Quidi Vidi Honey Brown which was a very nice beer indeed. It also had a map of Newfoundland on the label which helped us learn about our NZ friends’ travels to Labrador.

I will finish off this entry to cheer on the Good and … I’m not going to finish that sentence. I think I jinxed us last time. Oh no… I might have done it again.

Postscript: The Oilers are going to the Stanley Cup!!!!! Hurrah hurrah!!!!!

The Good and Virtuous Oilers

For an Oilers fan, these playoffs have been amazing. I've been really excited by the great Oilers performances this month and have enjoyed seeing some top notch hockey. I've also been very moved by the Oilers fans and by my home city. I've never been more proud of my city than I was when Edmontonians responded to the booing of "Oh Canada" in the US by singing the American anthem en masse at the next game.

I'll point you to my brother's fine posting about the Oilers-- he says much of what I was about to say. Paul alludes to the yearly heartbreak of watching the Oilers in the playoffs; it's something to which we became accustomed. Even this year, when it seemed the Oilers wouldn't make the playoffs, I changed my MSN IM name to: "Oh, Oilers, why must you break my heart each year?" Paul, Dale and I grew up watching the Oilers in their glory years so it's no wonder we're so thrilled to see a new era of Oilers fans and Oilers legends. But, we're also Oilers fans living out of province and Oilers fans who have lived/ are living in the US.

For many of us, especially Edmontonians living away from Edmonton, there's more to this series than great hockey. When Dale and I first moved to Nebraska (in the pre-internet days), NHL hockey scores came after the dog racing scores in the local paper. When we lived in North Carolina (where we actually heard a fan at a Hurricanes game say "C'mon, skate, y'all"), hockey was the one solid link we had to our homeland and, perhaps, our Canadian selves. During the playoffs, Dale and I would trek out to whatever sports bar in Greenville, NC we could convince to turn on the Oilers game. Each series would have a pretty solid glimmer of hope and then, more often than not, a heartbreaking ending. Still, Dale and I would sit in a corner, two voices in a silent bar, cheering our team on until the last minute of play. At the time, there was serious talk about the Oilers leaving Edmonton for a more lucrative (i.e., American) market. Sometimes it seemed like every loss was one more nail in the Oilers coffin and every victory a respite. Sometimes it seemed like our cheers were not only pleading for another goal but for the future of our team and, perhaps, for that little bit of Canada that we could hold onto in the steamy southern clime.

For Edmontononians, these playoffs are more than just a sporting event and the Oilers are more than just a team. As Edmontonians living outside of Alberta, we often hear our fine, vibrant city dismissed or see it ignored. In the Globe article, they quote Kevin Lowe as saying, "Underneath the surface is Edmonton's pent-up need to say to the world, ‘we're here too." Lowe's right. Oiler Pride is pride in our team but it's also pride in our city. For all these reasons, I say, "Go Good and Virtous Oilers! Go!"

Site of the Month? Site of the Year?

My groovy pal Brett tipped me off to this site which I'm calling the site of month since it's a veritable treasure trove of wacky weird stuff. I've hardly scratched the surface of this gem but I'm already hooked! Here are a few favourites. The advertisement urging us to "Beware of Stale Coffee": "People should be afraid of stale coffee. Science tells us it often leads to 'nerves,' headache and indigestion. But fresh coffee is healthfully stimulating." Poor Helen-- she's so misunderstood.
Also, check out the Worst Comics Ever and the Mr Coffee Nerves comic. Or, the Orphanage of Cast-off Mascots! Who can resist Plywood Pete or The Undead Lard Can Man or The Radiant Roast. I really have to stop... Please post your favourite Lileks.com finds in the comments section-- this truly could be the site of the year. It's a really good thing I'm on holidays now.

The new Mark Knopfler (and Emmylou)

Has anyone else listened to this? I've had this CD for a few weeks and am still trying to sort out how I'm feeling about it. I realize that I have very few critical faculties when it comes to MK. Knopfler's been a musical paramour of mine since I was 10 (I know, I know...) and I have a hard time not liking anything he does. However, this one's taking some effort. And, I wonder if I'm being harder on this album because I don't think it's fair that Emmylou gets to hang out with MK _and_ Daniel Lanois? (and, while I'm at it, would it hurt MK or DL to collaborate with librarians once and a while??) It took me a while to really appreciate Shangri-La but once I listened to it carefully and at length, I think it's one of his best. I have to thank a faulty CD drive for that-- my copy of Shangri-La lodged itself so thoroughly in my laptop that I had to have it surgically removed. Any thoughts? (About MK not my poor laptop who still has a shard of Shangri La rattling about its insides). Anyway, off to cheer the good and virtuous Oilers onto victory.

From the "I can't believe this was 'de-accessioned!'" category

Dale found this gem for a quarter at the Windsor Public Library. Dogs and baseball... makes me smile just thinking about it. PS: if you want to be surprised by the ending, don't read the title!

Two new photo sites

Two friendly visitors to the cafe have pointed me toward two lovely photo sites worth a leisurely stroll through.

The Open Democracy site has some interesting articles and slide shows of current work in progress. There is usally a write-up and a slide show. See, for example, the Made In Italy feature.

Also, worth two or three strolls through is the site accompanying the book Black Gold Tide by Tom Kidd and Tom Morton.

Site of Week.2: What Not To Wear: The Jane Austen Edition?

I'm a bit behind on my sites of the week so here's another one: Dress Mr. Darcy. You too can dress Mr. Darcy (the Colin Firth variety) and Elizabeth in any number of stunning ensembles. Although followers of Miss Austen might pelt me with the hardcover Oxford editions of her collected work for saying this, you can also dress Mr. Darcy in Elizabeth's clothes. In case you were wondering, he looks surprisingly good in Elizabeth's dark purple dress, pink bonnet, pink purse and white parasol. I selected the boots with this ensemble-- the shoes seemed a bit too precious. I'm not sure what to do with the chairs. You can move them but why...? If there were a fern to move around too then, well, that's something but two chairs... So much for productivity. Enjoy!

Site of the Week: "he's shaggy, he's blue and he knows how to chew"

This week's site of the week features the Cookie Monster as Isaac Hayes. Really, could anything be cooler??

And, C is For Cookie, a classic through and through.

The future of libraries?

If you've read Endymion Spring, there are some interesting connections here. If you've not read it, what are you waiting for? Maybe you're waiting for me because I said I'd lend it to you. If so, my bad. I'm sorry. Anyway, here's an interesting article from the NY Times:
"When Google announced in December 2004 that it would digitally scan the books of five major research libraries to make their contents searchable, the promise of a universal library was resurrected. Indeed, the explosive rise of the Web, going from nothing to everything in one decade, has encouraged us to believe in the impossible again. Might the long-heralded great library of all knowledge really be within our grasp?"

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/14/magazine/14publishing.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1

Forgotten Detroit

Our pal Dave sent along this link to the Forgotten Detroit website. It's a fascinating (not to mention sobering) look at Detroit architecture. As the site notes, "Detroit is known for one of the most stunning collections of pre-depression architecture in the world" yet, in the past several decades, "several of these treasures sit vacant, waiting for economic revival." The photos are nicely done and richly evocative. See, for example, the waiting room of Michigan Central Station from today and from 1913.

New CBC podcasts

I do love CBC radio but somehow I keep missing the shows I really like, like Definitely Not the Opera. Happily, CBC's just released some new podcasts including one for DNTO. Ideas and As It Happens are also available in addition to their great CBC3. Hurrah! http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/

More on The History Boys

Alan Bennett's The History Boys has been named as play of the year by the New York Drama Critics' Circle.
The classroom drama tells of a group of young men trying to earn university places at Oxford or Cambridge, and the teachers who inspire them.

Also, Special awards were also given to the current Broadway revival of Sweeney Todd, in which the performers play all of the show's instruments
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4768355.stm

Ah New York...

"Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm'd Manhattan"-- Walt Whitman, "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"

"New York is where I'd rather stay./ I get allergic smelling hay./ I just adore a penthouse view./ Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue."-- Eva Gabor

We've just returned from a fabulous trip to NYC and I'm sure it's going to take us both a few weeks or months to process everything we've seen and done. It was, like our last trip there, an absolute dream. We walked around a lot and just took in the magic. I'll post some photos next week-- I still need to get them processed (I'll write about that shortly too).

Until then, here are a few of the amazing things we saw or did. We saw three plays: The History Boys which was incredible and amazingly acted. It featured the original UK cast including Richard Griffiths (Uncle Monty from "Withnail and I" and Harry's Uncle from Harry Potter) and Frances de la Tour (Madame Maxime in Harry Potter as well as numerous other things).

Also The Lieutenant of Inishmore which the NY Times adroitly describes as both gruesome and gleeful; it too was superbly acted. Speaking of gruesome and gleeful: we also saw a remarkable production of "Sweeney Todd."

Other highlights included seeing Kenny Garrett at Birdland and, at the last minute, a production of Rigoletto at the Metropolitan Opera.

We also took in some fascinating art shows: the Whitney Biennial--a few very interesting works. The Cloisters was magical and the Met-- stunning but also overwhelming. I spent an hour in a teeny tiny room of photos which I plan on writing about soon. The International Centre of Photography featured a really compelling exhibit of contemporary African photography.

Also captivating was the Darwin exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History Having just seen the great movie The Squid and the Whale, we also had to check out the aforementioned squid and whale. I expect I've got some poorly lit photos of the whale I can bore you with.

As always, Dale researched some great new restaurants-- one even had an extensive cheese list! I felt like Wallace and Gromit. In his research, he also found what might be one of the most perfect cafes ever-- 71 Irving Place. Our friends Brian and Aki also took us to the famous Magnolia Bakery-- made even more famous by the SNL video I'm sure you saw about cupcakes and the Chronicles of Narnia.

Finally, I have to admit it was a doggie dream world, especially in Central Park. We met a lovely pug named Lola and I spent perhaps a bit too much time loitering around the edges of dog parks cooing at Yorkies in NY Yankees t-shirts as they cavorted with Prada-collared Weimaraners, mangey mutts, and tracksuit-wearing pugs. In retrospect, I see these democratic dog parks have a Whitman-esque quality to them ("Song of My Dog"? "I Sing the Doggie Electric"?). Pictures to follow...though, sadly not of the Pugs, Yorkies and Weimaraners. Stay tuned.