Rob and I frequently meet for lunch at a little place on 100Ave called Subjoint. A woman named Tara who is one of those impossibly thin beautiful women that I always wanted to be when I was young runs it. When I asked her today if she would mind if I took a photo of her at work for this blog article, she assented readily, but I could see in her eyes she was far to practical a person to think being featured on a blog was any kind of big deal. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t confirmed my middle-aged geekiness to her for sure today.
Tara is usually the only person behind the counter at lunch though I have seen another employee there on occasion. Rob and I frequent often enough now that she nearly knows our order by rote. Today as she confirmed that I do not take tomatoes or onions, I admitted that I am allergic to them. Another customer, a friend of Tara’s it seemed, was nearby still collecting her order and chatting a bit overheard and was horrified. How could one live one’s life without tomatoes? Well, it’s not as easy as it sounds. More foodstuffs than most people realize contain tomato in one from or another. So I explained that while I loved tomatoes, I suffered from Oral Allergy Syndrome (totally self-diagnosed by the way because I couldn’t get even my usually open-minded doctor to take my symptoms seriously – but when you mouth feels as though it is burned all the time and your lips are tingling – anyone will be motivated to sleuth.) I explained that while it wasn’t life-threatening (that I have been able to find out). It could/did make eating very painful. So, I avoid tomatoes and all citrus and peanuts – don’t know what to do about freshly mowed lawns – and amazingly my chronic heartburn, gastic upsets and sore mouth are gone. The friend continued to be horror-struck as she as she exited.
Subjoint is just a block over from the library where I meet with the Fort writing group on the first Wednesday of every month and just two doors down from Soulitude Spa where I get my hair done while discussing American politics and world events with the Canadian/Lebanese stylist, Fredrique, who despite what Rob thinks isn’t the tiniest bit gay. The café is really just a sandwich only place though they offer a limited chip selection at times, and there is an assortment of drinks. Rob and I usually have the veggie wraps anymore, but you can have any manner of sub and of course the ever popular donairs, which as nearly as I can figure out consists of shaved lamb on bread with the diner’s choice of accoutrements.
There are only four tiny tables, the kind you might find in a Starbucks, upfront for dining in. Now that it is winter, we dine in, but back in the fall we would take our sandwiches and drinks down to the picnic area by the river. From there you can see the trail that runs the length of the Fort and a tiny white church across the river that I found quite picturesque when the colors were turning from the summer greens to the mulit-coloreds of autumn.
I was the one who was early that doesn’t happen often. I dropped Katy off at school just before and her teacher was letting the kids into the classroom about five minutes earlier than usual. Probably on account of the weather. You just don’t appreciate the gift of five minutes until it’s just handed to you out of the blue when you least expect it. I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to shift the focus of my blog just a bit and start writing about the things, places and people I am finding here in Alberta and in Canada. After all, I have been given this great gift of another country to explore and take note of and what I have done with it really? So from now on I am going to include entries on the many things and people around me, starting with Subjoint.
If you are ever in the neighborhood of Fort Saskatchewan and in need of a quick and tasty lunch, I heartily recommend that you look up Tara and her café. It’s cozy and smells wonderful and is the perfect place for a mid-day break from the hustle. Not that life moves swiftly in the Fort. Around it perhaps would be more accurate. This is Canada remember, where my own dad noted that “the dogs even move slowly”, but I think you might find this place and the food a nice alternative to the fast and the processed of say a McDonald’s or a Tim Horton’s.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
What I did on My Vacation (from blogging)
I wrote. Mostly that is what I did. Poetry for the Poetry Federation of Canada’s all call for submissions for nine new anthologies. The titles of these anthologies have me a bit stumped because they came with no content direction what so ever. The poetry of birth. The poetry of seasons. The poetry of relationships. A wide berth for interpretation could mean just about anything. I chose the pedestrian path and took the titles literally, but alas, it turned out that I had missed the deadline (I think I got the email informing me about it a couple of days prior), so I ended up just picking the best three and sending them to the magazine sponsoring the anthologies.
I also polished another piece for The Daily Globe and Mail on the recent lice saga (which we appear to have recovered from – thank the lord/universe). I am struggling with a piece for Canadian Living magazine. 500 words on My Canada. I am not sure that any part of Canada is “mine” yet, but I don’t know that I can call any place I have ever been “mine” in the way that some people refer to homes or favorite haunts. I feel that the place I will call mine I have yet to step foot on.
I found out that one of my short stories didn’t make the cut for a rather avante garde literary magazine out of Calgary, so I turned around and submitted it to a Sci-fi/Fantasy mag here in Edmonton. Probably a better fit.
And finally, I began scouring my blog for a piece that I might enter in a memoir-writing contest. This in addition to attending a writer’s group meeting where another member supplied me with three more contests that are possibilities.
Oh, and I wrote my first cover letter. Next is the query.
And you know what I discovered about this? That it is fun. More fun than blogging and reading blogs and mindless message board voyeurism. Hmmmm. Rob started a blog the other day on his “net” history and conclusions he has come to concerning it. I still like blogging. It’s not the same as my writing for contests and submissions. It fulfills something different but I suspect that I will not be an everyday blogger once I start to get the hang of how this getting published thing really works. I still like reading blogs but I am down to a certain select few that I read consistently. I really need to start using the RSS.
One thing I did not do was return to my novel. By the rules, I should have begun my read through and second draft about a month ago, but the topic matter is so depressing. I find that even a fictional account of my widowhood too heavy for my soul at the moment. I also did not finish my cat lover story because I want to make it a part of my sci-fi short story series and haven’t found the bridge between what I started and where I want it to come out. Patience. Patience.
I did work on the links to my wordpress blog. I did finally get the ball rolling on getting all the beneficiary stuff changed on my existing pensions. I did find and semi-organize (they are all in one folder) my tax info for 2007.
And…..drum roll……..I got Rob to help me purge and organize the cabinets in the kitchen.
What?! That sounds like a non-important agenda item to you, dear readers? Au contraire, mes amis. The cabinets (like the refrigerator) have been harboring out of date (by years) foodstuffs and all manner of non-used and non-essential items that, if not taken care of now, will simply demand attention when the move to Texas is glaring us in the face or worse, will be waiting for us next summer when we are back to finish getting the house ready for sale.
I have been wanting to do this for a while, believe it or not, but the problem is that I am not always certain when my cleaning and purging help is needed, wanted and/or helpful because much of what there is doesn’t belong to me.
I tread a very delicate line when it comes to rearranging or packing away or pitching. I don’t want to push. I don’t want to dredge up memories or be the cause of hurt feelings where Shelley’s things are concerned. It’s hard for the girls to visit and see so much change. It’s hard for Rob to go through things all the time. And it’s hard for me because I am torn between wanting to help, protect and at the same time start carving out areas that reflect me. Shelley had a distinct décor style that is evident in the plants and wall hangings and color scheme and the way that all space is occupied by something. But for me, plants get dusty and the die when not watered and aren’t all that great for an asthmatic to have around. I like my walls sparse to totally bare. My favorite colors change too often to slap them on a wall, so I usually go with light colors that are barely colors at all. And I like room. I love room. Room to walk around or dance around or sit on the floor with newspapers or writing papers or books spread out all around me. It could just be my lazy Sagittarian side but stuff just invites dirt to settle on it and then it needs to be cleaned. Not much stuff equals way less cleaning. And, I like the freedom that space provides.
Rob and I talked about the cleaning and the impact of Shelley’s things on us both. He had worried about how I felt and honestly aside from one small teary breakdown this last summer, I haven’t been bothered. I worry more about the impact of change and paring down and giving away and tossing on him and the girls than I think about the impact on me. He reminded thought that what I see is a reflection of a lifestyle that he and Shelley were transitioning away from around the time she became ill and that had that not occurred at that time, things would be much different.
It was nice though to clean out spaces. I am beginning to like the downsizing and the lack of stuff. I think now about what I truly need in terms of the material to feel satisfied once we get to Houston, and I realize that it is not an extensive list.
So now it is Friday again. Katy has the day off because of the teacher convention and we are heading into Sherwood Park for the morning. First stop is Beaners, a hair salon for little girls. She was promised a visit during the lice escapade (of which the saga is far from over as a new lice alert pamphlet came home with her from school the other night). Then it’s off to the mall because she is growing like a weed and needs new tights and has Christmas money to spend. I need to browse the magazine rack at the Chapters and perhaps grab a chai at the Starbucks (okay, not perhaps – definitely). Afterwards I need to hit the gym and there is ballet today too.
Whew. A lot done and a bunch still do to do
I also polished another piece for The Daily Globe and Mail on the recent lice saga (which we appear to have recovered from – thank the lord/universe). I am struggling with a piece for Canadian Living magazine. 500 words on My Canada. I am not sure that any part of Canada is “mine” yet, but I don’t know that I can call any place I have ever been “mine” in the way that some people refer to homes or favorite haunts. I feel that the place I will call mine I have yet to step foot on.
I found out that one of my short stories didn’t make the cut for a rather avante garde literary magazine out of Calgary, so I turned around and submitted it to a Sci-fi/Fantasy mag here in Edmonton. Probably a better fit.
And finally, I began scouring my blog for a piece that I might enter in a memoir-writing contest. This in addition to attending a writer’s group meeting where another member supplied me with three more contests that are possibilities.
Oh, and I wrote my first cover letter. Next is the query.
And you know what I discovered about this? That it is fun. More fun than blogging and reading blogs and mindless message board voyeurism. Hmmmm. Rob started a blog the other day on his “net” history and conclusions he has come to concerning it. I still like blogging. It’s not the same as my writing for contests and submissions. It fulfills something different but I suspect that I will not be an everyday blogger once I start to get the hang of how this getting published thing really works. I still like reading blogs but I am down to a certain select few that I read consistently. I really need to start using the RSS.
One thing I did not do was return to my novel. By the rules, I should have begun my read through and second draft about a month ago, but the topic matter is so depressing. I find that even a fictional account of my widowhood too heavy for my soul at the moment. I also did not finish my cat lover story because I want to make it a part of my sci-fi short story series and haven’t found the bridge between what I started and where I want it to come out. Patience. Patience.
I did work on the links to my wordpress blog. I did finally get the ball rolling on getting all the beneficiary stuff changed on my existing pensions. I did find and semi-organize (they are all in one folder) my tax info for 2007.
And…..drum roll……..I got Rob to help me purge and organize the cabinets in the kitchen.
What?! That sounds like a non-important agenda item to you, dear readers? Au contraire, mes amis. The cabinets (like the refrigerator) have been harboring out of date (by years) foodstuffs and all manner of non-used and non-essential items that, if not taken care of now, will simply demand attention when the move to Texas is glaring us in the face or worse, will be waiting for us next summer when we are back to finish getting the house ready for sale.
I have been wanting to do this for a while, believe it or not, but the problem is that I am not always certain when my cleaning and purging help is needed, wanted and/or helpful because much of what there is doesn’t belong to me.
I tread a very delicate line when it comes to rearranging or packing away or pitching. I don’t want to push. I don’t want to dredge up memories or be the cause of hurt feelings where Shelley’s things are concerned. It’s hard for the girls to visit and see so much change. It’s hard for Rob to go through things all the time. And it’s hard for me because I am torn between wanting to help, protect and at the same time start carving out areas that reflect me. Shelley had a distinct décor style that is evident in the plants and wall hangings and color scheme and the way that all space is occupied by something. But for me, plants get dusty and the die when not watered and aren’t all that great for an asthmatic to have around. I like my walls sparse to totally bare. My favorite colors change too often to slap them on a wall, so I usually go with light colors that are barely colors at all. And I like room. I love room. Room to walk around or dance around or sit on the floor with newspapers or writing papers or books spread out all around me. It could just be my lazy Sagittarian side but stuff just invites dirt to settle on it and then it needs to be cleaned. Not much stuff equals way less cleaning. And, I like the freedom that space provides.
Rob and I talked about the cleaning and the impact of Shelley’s things on us both. He had worried about how I felt and honestly aside from one small teary breakdown this last summer, I haven’t been bothered. I worry more about the impact of change and paring down and giving away and tossing on him and the girls than I think about the impact on me. He reminded thought that what I see is a reflection of a lifestyle that he and Shelley were transitioning away from around the time she became ill and that had that not occurred at that time, things would be much different.
It was nice though to clean out spaces. I am beginning to like the downsizing and the lack of stuff. I think now about what I truly need in terms of the material to feel satisfied once we get to Houston, and I realize that it is not an extensive list.
So now it is Friday again. Katy has the day off because of the teacher convention and we are heading into Sherwood Park for the morning. First stop is Beaners, a hair salon for little girls. She was promised a visit during the lice escapade (of which the saga is far from over as a new lice alert pamphlet came home with her from school the other night). Then it’s off to the mall because she is growing like a weed and needs new tights and has Christmas money to spend. I need to browse the magazine rack at the Chapters and perhaps grab a chai at the Starbucks (okay, not perhaps – definitely). Afterwards I need to hit the gym and there is ballet today too.
Whew. A lot done and a bunch still do to do
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The Internet, Message Boards and Pattern Breaking
I had heard about the “internet” from Jim, a long time friend of mine. We were staying over with Jim and Nancy in Calgary one time when we were up from Kansas visiting friends and family. Jim, whom I view as a bit of a technology buff, was eager to show me this wonderful new thing called the “internet”. We sat for an hour or two in his basement looking at a screen full of nonsensical text (at least it was to me). Remember this was back in the mid-90’s before the advent of the “world wide web” and “internet browsers”.
I remember Jim, after typing string after string of more nonsensical text, excitedly announcing that we were “on” another computer – a “server” - somewhere else in the world. I sighed. I didn’t really get the point of this. Or understand the attraction. I do remember the first thing I ever viewed from the “internet” were actual crime scene photos from the “Black Dahlia” murder. Gruesome stuff, really. Sort of like the black and white crime scene photos I found one time in my dad’s desk when I was a kid, from his time in the RCMP. I also remember Jim remarking that about 75% of the “traffic” on the “internet” was pornography. My eyebrows must have arched at that; I must have thought that this “internet” thing would never last. Little did I know.
Although I purchased our first home PC in 1988, at the start of my fourth and final year in the Chemical Engineering program at the University of Calgary, we didn’t get our first “internet” ready computer until 1997. It was our third home PC, a lower level product of AST, purchased at “The Brick” and was internet ready by virtue of being equipped with a 33.6 Kbps modem. Part of the rationale for the purchase was to do research on a medical issue I experienced in 1997, but part of the rationale was to be able to do “e-mail” and keep in better touch with family and friends. Ha ha, you say, yeah right. Well, it’s a better reason than earlier justifications for PC’s, like digitizing all of one’s cookbooks and recipes and having a wealth of cooking instructions available at the press of a keyboard key. But, I digress.
Even at the stunningly slow speed of a 33.6 dial-up connection we discovered the “world wide web”. And became a bit addicted. It didn’t take long, though, to become a bit disenchanted with slow dial-up and interest and use gradually waned. In setting up various e-mail clients, I was reminded of the existence of “newsgroups”. This was a topic that Jim would go on about from time to time. And I recalled from my University days the existence of “forums” on the University mainframe where one could go and post and have “discussions’ with others about a wide range of topics. So, I made use of my ISP’s newsgroup host gateway and subscribed to a few. I can’t recall how many newsgroups were available back then. Seems like it was around 3,000 or 30,000. More likely the former – it’s almost inconceivable to even want to scroll through 30,000 newsgroup titles. With cryptic names like alt.something.this or alt.something.binary that one had to use a little savvy to find something of interest. I subscribed to a few groups about cars and a few other general interest or curiosity categories. As a sidebar, there were things one could find on the internet – usually photographic – that were really better left unseen and unknown. It quickly became apparent that keeping up with these newsgroups could run into a serious amount of time. And ultimately, after a few comments and complaints from my wife, I rationalized that the time invested/benefit ratio was really too low to continue this sort of activity. There were many, many other things in Real Life that could be, and needed to be, done to allow time to be sucked up by newsgroup reading – and a little posting – on-line. Internet usage dropped off to a once a month session to pay bills on-line and occasional sign-ons to check e-mail. The world wide web held little to no attraction for me. (The same was not true for my kids, however, but that’s another story.)
To be continued…
I remember Jim, after typing string after string of more nonsensical text, excitedly announcing that we were “on” another computer – a “server” - somewhere else in the world. I sighed. I didn’t really get the point of this. Or understand the attraction. I do remember the first thing I ever viewed from the “internet” were actual crime scene photos from the “Black Dahlia” murder. Gruesome stuff, really. Sort of like the black and white crime scene photos I found one time in my dad’s desk when I was a kid, from his time in the RCMP. I also remember Jim remarking that about 75% of the “traffic” on the “internet” was pornography. My eyebrows must have arched at that; I must have thought that this “internet” thing would never last. Little did I know.
Although I purchased our first home PC in 1988, at the start of my fourth and final year in the Chemical Engineering program at the University of Calgary, we didn’t get our first “internet” ready computer until 1997. It was our third home PC, a lower level product of AST, purchased at “The Brick” and was internet ready by virtue of being equipped with a 33.6 Kbps modem. Part of the rationale for the purchase was to do research on a medical issue I experienced in 1997, but part of the rationale was to be able to do “e-mail” and keep in better touch with family and friends. Ha ha, you say, yeah right. Well, it’s a better reason than earlier justifications for PC’s, like digitizing all of one’s cookbooks and recipes and having a wealth of cooking instructions available at the press of a keyboard key. But, I digress.
Even at the stunningly slow speed of a 33.6 dial-up connection we discovered the “world wide web”. And became a bit addicted. It didn’t take long, though, to become a bit disenchanted with slow dial-up and interest and use gradually waned. In setting up various e-mail clients, I was reminded of the existence of “newsgroups”. This was a topic that Jim would go on about from time to time. And I recalled from my University days the existence of “forums” on the University mainframe where one could go and post and have “discussions’ with others about a wide range of topics. So, I made use of my ISP’s newsgroup host gateway and subscribed to a few. I can’t recall how many newsgroups were available back then. Seems like it was around 3,000 or 30,000. More likely the former – it’s almost inconceivable to even want to scroll through 30,000 newsgroup titles. With cryptic names like alt.something.this or alt.something.binary that one had to use a little savvy to find something of interest. I subscribed to a few groups about cars and a few other general interest or curiosity categories. As a sidebar, there were things one could find on the internet – usually photographic – that were really better left unseen and unknown. It quickly became apparent that keeping up with these newsgroups could run into a serious amount of time. And ultimately, after a few comments and complaints from my wife, I rationalized that the time invested/benefit ratio was really too low to continue this sort of activity. There were many, many other things in Real Life that could be, and needed to be, done to allow time to be sucked up by newsgroup reading – and a little posting – on-line. Internet usage dropped off to a once a month session to pay bills on-line and occasional sign-ons to check e-mail. The world wide web held little to no attraction for me. (The same was not true for my kids, however, but that’s another story.)
To be continued…
Friday, February 1, 2008
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