Deleilan

goodbye Deleilan...

2011-05-01T14:05:00.000-04:00

Lately, I have become increasingly impatient with the sheer complicatedness of the world around me. I crave simplicity, quietness, genuineness. Little by little, I am banishing what seems superfluous or causes me unnecessary irritation, and thus far have made considerable progress. It therefore made perfect sense when, on the eve of moving to a new apartment, I found myself itching for a fresh start.

The time has now come to leave behind the pseudonym I adopted years ago (as a defense against being "found out") and to start afresh on a new blog. I will be writing there under my real name, in French as well as in English, about simple things, what I love, and what is important to me.

(I have not yet decided what to do about my Twitter account, though I must admit to feeling a growing degree of annoyance with the medium.)

So, dear readers, please update your links, bookmarks and RSS readers as you wave Deleilan goodbye!

The Moonstone / Wilkie Collins

2011-04-10T17:10:00.000-04:00

But when you are old, you acquire one excellent habit. In cases where you don't see your way clearly, you hold your tongue.

(Gabriel Betteredge)

serendipity?

2011-04-06T09:01:00.000-04:00

Following this post, I spent a week feverishly checking multiple web sites and local papers, taking long walks around the neighbourhood, making dozens of phone calls, all the while armed with notepad and pen. My mood fell lower and lower with each walk, each call, each visit. I don't handle stress well, you see; it makes me physically sick, so I hoped that my quest would be a short one.

As it turned out, all I had to do is say "hello"...

This Saturday, while on my way to view what seemed to be a nice enough place, I stopped to chat with one of my neighbours, a retired gentleman who spends most of his time outdoors with his cats, doing one thing or another. We had passed the time of day on occasion, commenting on the weather or his cats, but until then didn't even know each other's names. He was sitting in the sun, removing grit from his winter tires before putting them in storage. We joked that this was a very zen occupation, then he asked what I was up to. When I mentioned my appointment, he gave me a searching look and asked: "Do you have a car?" I answered in the negative. He narrowed his eyes, lowered his voice, and said: "I have the apartment for you." I thought he was just teasing me, but he made a gesture towards a house across the street from his: "The upstairs is empty, and he doesn't advertise because he doesn't want just anybody living there. And there's no parking space." It sounded too good to be true! He wanted me to come over and meet the house's owner (him) straight away, but I was already running late, so I scribbled my name and phone number on a piece of paper, which he agreed to deliver.

The "promising" apartment I viewed failed to impress (and the landlord seemed a bit creepy). My messenger was still sitting outside with his winter tire when I returned home. He must have seen the look of expectation on my face, but insisted on showing me his garden before speaking of anything else. Quite a character, I assure you! He finally turned to me and said: "Let's go and see him now." It was dinner time, but he didn't appear to think this was a problem. He introduced me to Denis (him), who gave me a tour of the upstairs apartment while telling me of the circumstances that prompted its existence. (You'll have to wait for the details.)

To make a long story short (too late...), I fell head over heels for this space! It's very unique, with tons of charm and quirky little details. I'm getting the keys on May 1st!

Part of me can't quite believe that, had I not stopped to greet someone, I would never have known about the apartment and would still be making myself thoroughly miserable... Perhaps there really is such a thing as serendipity!

Thanks, Universe!

Love,

Deleilan

Le Médecin de campagne / Honoré de Balzac

2011-04-05T05:00:00.001-04:00

Nous avons tous des penchants qu'il faut savoir ou combattre, ou rendre utiles à nos semblables.

(Benassis)

[Josiane, j'ai immédiatement pensé à toi en lisant ce passage!]

curtail

2011-03-31T22:18:00.000-04:00

As a preliminary step before moving to my yet-to-be-found new apartment, I went through all the drawers and cupboards and the boxes crammed under my bed, setting aside the few objects that I truly want to keep and filling numerous bags destined for the thrift shop. My possessions have now been halved, and I cannot help but feel a little proud of my willingness to let go of so many material things. Of course, I could not have achieved this without RD's invaluable assistance and vigilance. This intensive sorting session lasted an entire day... tiring work, as you can see.

I was overjoyed to finally find the Green Mousie, RD's long-lost favourite toy, stuck in the fold of a plastic bag under the bed.

But RD inexplicably transferred all his affection to this tension sample as soon as he caught sight of it.

I suppose it does somewhat resemble a mouse, at least from a certain angle! He has been pouncing on it and tossing it about with such ferocious energy that I have now taken to calling him "my fierce warrior".

As for my search for a new home, I have thus far visited only two likely candidates; the first was located in a sadly neglected building (never a good sign) and the second unfortunately proved too small...

a message to the Universe re. new apartment

2011-03-26T11:19:00.000-04:00

As suggested by Josiane, I'm "putting it out there". So listen up, Universe!

First, a bit about my present abode...

Things I will miss about my current apartment:
- the huge mouldings around doors and windows
- the wide windowsill above the kitchen sink
- no live-in next-door neighbours
- the battered upstairs door with its letter slot

Things I will definitely not miss about my current apartment:
- the extra loud movie sessions from the downstairs neighbours (my landlord & landlady) every evening
- the intensive cleaning by said downstairs neighbours most Friday mornings
- the ridiculous "heating" from electric baseboards
- having to shovel snow from the balcony because it slides off the roof in an avalanche
- not being able to use said balcony
- having two minuscule closets as the only storage
- having to walk the entire length of the apartment to use the bathroom at night
- the impossibility of sleeping with an open window in summer due to night-time traffic and noisy idiots
- a landlady who promises to "find someone to make repairs", then never does
- beige walls, carpet and linoleum (growing up in a beige home left deep scars)
- inexplicably faulty electricals

But now, let's get to the important bit!

Things I WANT in my new home:
- cats allowed
- radiator heating
- 2 (or even 3!) bedrooms
- an actual kitchen rather than a short hallway, with decent storage and counter space
- a bathroom with more than the minimum required space to turn around
- a nice view of nature
- a quiet spot where I can sit outdoors with a book and a cup of tea
- a landlord/landlady who takes care of business
- wood floors and minimal carpeting
- a decent-sized closet
- plumbing and electricals that work
- "character" (I know what I mean)
- located on the top floor, near Trois-Rivière's downtown area, within walking distance of a grocery store, but not on a busy street (this is where it gets complicated...)

Things I don't want or need in my new home:
- recent renovations that completely stripped it of personality
- a parking space
- noisy neighbours (this includes children and pets)

Oh dear, this seems like a lot... Well, by asking for more, perhaps I'll get some of what I want?

uprooting

2011-03-25T18:49:00.000-04:00

Well, it is now official... I have just handed in my notice to my landlord and will be moving by July 1st. I should have made this decision some time ago, because living in this tiny apartment has become increasingly frustrating for a number of reasons.

Due to a heavy workload, I have yet to start my search for a new home. While part of me is excited at the prospect, I am not looking forward to dealing with the stress involved in this process all on my own. To add to this, there is a nagging fear that my wishes (though modest) may be entirely unrealistic, and that the apartment I dream of simply does not exist...

a rest

2011-03-11T10:50:00.000-05:00

All projects have been suspended. Unsure how to proceed or which direction to take from here, I have decided to give this space a rest. I may return — to resume or to follow a side path — or start another journey elsewhere...

Longitude / Dava Sobel (2)

2011-03-04T08:40:00.000-05:00

[John Harrison] wrested the world's whereabouts from the stars, and locked the secret in a pocket watch.

Longitude / Dava Sobel

2011-03-01T16:41:00.000-05:00

Time is to clock as mind is to brain. The clock or watch somehow contains the time. And yet time refuses to be bottled up like a genie stuffed in a lamp. Whether it flows as sand or turns on wheels within wheels, time escapes irretrievably, while we watch. Even when the bulbs of the hourglass shatter, when darkness withholds the shadow from the sundial, when the mainspring winds down so far that the clock hands hold still as death, time itself keeps on. The most we can hope a watch to do is mark that progress. And since time sets its own tempo, like a heartbeat or an ebb tide, timepieces don't really keep time. They just keep up with it, if they're able.

2011-02-23T16:54:00.000-05:00

I just need to post this photo here again.

unfurl

2011-02-16T20:21:00.000-05:00

2011-02-13T16:31:00.000-05:00

Des éclairs / Jean Echenoz

2011-02-10T08:47:00.000-05:00

Qu'il est donc fatigant d'être à l'intérieur de soi, toujours, sans moyen d'en sortir, considérer toujours le monde depuis cette enveloppe où on est enfermé. Et ne pouvoir, à ce monde, montrer de soi qu'un extérieur maquillé tant bien que mal en s'aidant de miroirs.

treats

2011-02-09T13:13:00.001-05:00

Earlier this week, feeling a bit depressed and sorry for myself, I made a batch of cookies as an "I love me" treat. While I am not usually one to rely on food for comfort, at times nothing else will do the trick.

They may look like ordinary chocolate chip cookies, but their smell and flavour verge on the addictive. These are animal-friendly, gluten-free... and in all honesty the most delicious I have ever tasted! Their texture — slightly crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside — is absolutely perfect. You will find the recipe here, near the bottom of the article; I used brown rice flour, which was easy to find in a good health food shop. Future batches, already planned, will feature sliced almonds and dried cherries in place of chocolate chips, a well-tested winning combination.

Another wonderful treat recently discovered: peach-flavoured Long Life Oolong tea from David's Tea, which was enthusiastically recommended to me when I asked to have a sniff on my last visit to their store. I am happy to report that it does live up to its hype, its flavour developing in subtlety with each steeping.

Winter drags on endlessly here, cold and windy. I am counting the weeks until I can hope to hear the trickle and tinkle of melting snow...

I stand corrected!

2011-02-05T15:27:00.001-05:00

detail from 15th century manuscript

Confession time: since proclaiming in this post my poor opinion of North American television, I've become thoroughly addicted to — nay, obsessed by — a Canadian series...

Have you ever found yourself gazing in wonder at the fantastical creatures depicted in medieval manuscripts and musing, "What if....?" The premise of Sanctuary is that humanity shares this world with a multitude of strange beings (referred to as abnormals) and that, dotted all over the planet, there exists a network of sanctuaries whose mission consists in taking in, studying, protecting and/or containing them.

Perhaps because of a childhood of being mocked and made to feel an outsider due to a congenital deformity, I found myself drawn to the prevailing attitude of compassion and acceptance for the "different", the "unusual", the "atypical", embodied by the motto Sanctuary for All. (Incidentally, this is also why I have such high regard for the work of Philadelphia's Mütter Museum under its former director, Gretchen Worden.) It's far too easy to sensationalize, to use the word "freak"; showing respect requires a deeper understanding.

Although I dearly love it, I could not in all honesty call the show perfect. My biggest qualm is the extensive use of "green screen", which produces a noticeably artificial environment, especially during scenes set inside the Sanctuary headquarters, and can at times detract from the dialogue. Thankfully, a cast of compelling characters saves the day, most notably Dr Helen Magnus (played by the wonderful Amanda Tapping) and forensic psychiatrist Dr Will Zimmerman (Robin Dunne). I admit that I get a gleeful kick out of the introduction of historical figures as abnormals. My favourite is no doubt Nikola Tesla, a man I find endlessly fascinating, and Jonathon Young portrays him with irresistible wit and flair. He also gets some of the best lines: his "Nobody hijacks Nikola Tesla!" reduced me to tears of laughter.

I absolutely must mention the beautifully haunting theme music used in the opening and closing credits of the first two seasons; "Symphonie pour un monde étrange", composed by Joel Goldsmith and Neal Acree, can be heard in the first 28 seconds of this audio track. (For some inexplicable reason, it was changed for Season 3...)

Also worthy of mention here is Robin Dunne doing a more than decent job dancing the Rapati Sungu for Kali — yes, the Hindu goddess — in the Season 2 finale! (It would be well worth your while to watch it if you have a thing for Bollywood. I've had this music stuck in my head on a loop for days.) This prompted me to recall that dancing and singing were once closely associated with a warrior's bravery and strength, while today we see artistic expression as being distinct from, even incompatible with, physical courage.

What strange creatures we humans are.

I don't think there's a cure

2011-01-14T09:55:00.001-05:00

In spite of the recent realization that it would be necessary for me to retrench*, particularly where groceries are concerned, I couldn't restrain myself from spending a ridiculous amount of money on a boxful of genuine British tea and biscuits (and a wee bag of ~~crisps~~ savoury potato-based snacks for good measure). My order arrived this morning.

Hello, my name is Deleilan and I am a Britophile.

*such a good word, retrench, yet sadly very little-used; it also reminds me of my favourite Jane Austen novel, Persuasion

P.S. I ordered from this online shop

for your viewing pleasure...

2011-01-11T10:41:00.000-05:00

I haven't been too well since the start of the New Year, so normal posting may be some time in resuming. In the meantime, I'll write a bit about various topics when I get the chance.

As I spent most of the Holidays catching up on various TV series and miniseries and discovering new ones, I thought I'd put together a short list of recommendations for you. By pure coincidence (hah!), they're all British. To be perfectly honest, I have a very poor opinion of Canadian and American television in general...

So, in no specific order, I highly recommend:

- Doctor Who (season 5 in particular)
- Sherlock
- Being Human*
- Life on Mars*
- Ashes to Ashes (except season 3 — such a disappointment)
- Little Dorrit

Can you suggest any others?

*Please, I beg of you, stay far, far away from the American versions of these series!

The Island of the Day Before / Umberto Eco

2011-01-02T13:00:00.000-05:00

I challenge anyone to find himself abandoned on a deserted ship, between sea and sky in a vast space, and not be ready to dream that in his great misfortune he at least has had the good fortune to stumble into the heart of time.

(the narrator)

may your Holidays be filled with magic...

2010-12-24T09:23:00.001-05:00

indoor camping

2010-12-20T10:07:00.002-05:00

a double honour

2010-12-08T22:35:00.001-05:00

This humble corner of the web has recently received a very great honour, twice over, having been awarded the "I Love Your Blog" prize by two of my favourite bloggers: Hila and Gracia. I hardly know how I could possibly be worthy of such a prize, but it touches me deeply. A heartfelt thanks to both of you!

Here are the rules of the prize:
- do an entry with the prize
- answer the questions
- give the prize to 10 blogs

1. Why did you create the blog?
I could attempt an explanation, but the honest truth is that I simply don't know. As is the case in my life in general, I have no idea what I'm doing here! I suppose that, being of retiring habits, one needs to "talk" to others at times, and this is my (admittedly awkward) way of fulfilling this need.

2. What kind of blogs do you follow?
My interests vary widely, as my links list will attest: animals (especially cats), vegan and raw cooking, literature, art, photography, etc. As a general rule, I prefer blogs that offer glimpses of people's lives and that get me thinking.

3. Favorite makeup brand?
The closest I get to makeup is Lush lip balm, but I find myself constantly forgetting to put some on. However, this will need to change soon, because harsh winter conditions wreak havoc on my lips.

4. Favorite clothing brand?
One of the things I detest most is trying on clothes; it is absolute torture! I purchase the majority of my clothes from thrift and second-hand shops, since they are more affordable and more "unique" than in regular stores. (For the record, I am rather partial to Hanes underwear — purchased new, of course.)

5. Your indispensable makeup product?
Provided I remember to put it on, it's the None of Your Beeswax lip balm by Lush.

6. Your favorite color?
Although my instinctive answer to this question was blue, I then realized that the colour I find myself most drawn to is grey. Indeed, I've often joked that my wardrobe is "a symphony in grey".

7. Your perfume?
How strange that I just acquired what I consider my perfume, as mentioned in my last post! This absolutely wonderful scent is Eau de toilette Musc Gingembre from Melvita's Les Solyflores collection. (The musk is not of animal origin.) Until recently, I occasionally wore Karma by Lush, which smells like oranges and patchouli and everything exotic.

8. Your favorite film?
I am not a movie fan, and tend to revisit old favourites over and over again. If I were asked which movie I had seen most often, the answer would come readily: The Name of the Rose; over the last dozen or so years, I've settled in to watch it at least once every winter, always during a snowstorm — the perfect ambiance. There is a special place in my heart for Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain, which came into my life just when it was most needed. I also love Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources dearly... at least as much as chickpeas. More recently, Pan's Labyrinth touched me in a way that no movie has ever done before (I confess I wept like a child at the end).

9. What country would you like to visit and why?
I have long dreamt of visiting Scotland, especially Edinburgh's Old Town, but I am unsure how to explain why... It seems a rugged, mysterious place, and I love old stones and secrets.

10. Make the last question and answer to yourself:
What book has had a profound influence on your life and why?
An omnibus edition of Jane Austen's novels, purchased from a local second-hand book shop. Until that moment, I had been wholly ignorant of "literature". That volume opened up an entirely new universe to me, and I am happy to now count Jane Austen, Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, Charles Dickens, George Eliot, and Elizabeth Gaskell among my favourite authors.

I hereby award the "I Love Your Blog" prize to these 10 blogs (if you don't already follow them, you should!):

- Rachel of Slow Lane Life
- Lisa of The Adventures of Space Paws
- Josiane of Kimianak
- Ricki of Diet, Dessert and Dogs
- Shelly of Musings from the Fishbowl
- Kris of Vegan in Suburbia
- Kristina of Vigdis et al.
- Maria of Schorlemädchen
- Mette of Ungtblod
- Flora

I look forward to reading your answers to these few questions on your respective blogs!

"the book": call it research

2010-11-22T19:18:00.000-05:00

For reasons I cannot fathom, the pre-Holiday rush — i.e. the moment when clients realize that projects requiring translation need to be completed soon, triggering panicked emails and demands for unreasonable delays — started a month ahead of schedule this year. As a result, I have had little time and even less energy to expend on this book-project-thing before this past weekend.

While there has not been much actual writing, I did work on character outlines (with names!) and came up with a different reason for my two main characters to meet. The context remains the same, but their relative positions have shifted just slightly, making the "event" more plausible. The one scene I managed to sketch out features a very charming elderly gentleman; I found myself smiling fondly as I described him and put words in his mouth. I very much look forward to spending more time in his company... over a cup of tea, naturaly.

Some of my hard-earned money was recently spent on two different perfumes. One I purchased for myself, as it has long been a favourite of mine, ever since my first meeting with a bright and fascinating woman who wore it (and happened to be my namesake); I have now unfortunately lost contact with her, but even the slightest hint of this warm, comforting scent brings her vividly to my mind. The other is intended for, shall we say, inspiration. You see, there is a thread that links one of my characters to this specific fragrance, which itself will play an important part later in the book. Some might call it an indulgence (since the perfume, though not very expensive, had to be specially ordered), but I prefer to think of it as research. Delightfully fragrant research.

I must make a confession: I WAS WRONG. SO VERY, VERY WRONG. As an ardent fan of the Tenth Doctor (David Tennant), I had until now refused to watch Season 5 of Doctor Who, believing that it simply could not be any good. What was I thinking? In pondering the relationship between my two main characters, I started to compare it with the complex connections the Doctor establishes with his various companions. In order to refresh my memory, I dug out my Season 4 DVDs and spent hours on the sofa, laughing and crying all over again because of this crazy, beautiful show. Then I decided to take a chance on the following season... and was immediately bowled over by, well, everything: the writing, the dialogues, the scenarios, but above all Matt Smith. The man is simply otherwordly — there is no other way to describe him. He seems human, but there is something just slightly off about him. His gracefully awkward gestures, his oddly angled features, his innocently wise eyes, his very mannered speech and the apparently random way in which he drags out certain syllables... Oh yes, I was very wrong indeed.

sentinel

2010-11-16T09:28:00.000-05:00

A thick fog obscured the view from my window when I rose,

and even now I can hear ships' horns echoing on the river...

catlick

2010-11-15T18:04:00.000-05:00

You've heard of a cowlick, yes?

But what about a cat-lick?

afternoon tea

2010-11-09T16:50:00.000-05:00

My nerves have been rather frayed these past few weeks. A long succession of unrestful nights; the return of cold weather; the approaching end-of-year festivities with their familial obligations; the apparent blindness of a certain person to my increasingly plain antipathy; a client's client's* incurable incompetence; constant demands on my meagre social skills just when they are at their lowest ebb. If it were possible to be instantly transported to a desert island, far away from everything and everyone, simply by wishing it, there are many times when I would have been sorely tempted.

Fortunately, there is one thing that nearly always manages to soothe me. Putting the computer in sleep mode, I curl on the sofa with a cup of tea, a plateful of scones or a sliced apple, at times a book. Then the world recedes, I am by myself, and all is well, at least for the space of a few minutes.

*yes, a client of a client

Club Dumas / Arturo Pérez-Reverte (3)

2010-11-07T08:36:00.000-05:00

Dès qu'il y a littérature, le lecteur intelligent peut apprécier jusqu'à la stratégie qui fait de lui une victime.

Club Dumas / Arturo Pérez-Reverte (2)

2010-11-06T13:02:00.001-04:00

Il devait y avoir un point de vue à partir duquel les choses s'emboîtaient les unes dans les autres. À vrai dire, il ne savait même pas dans quelle direction regarder.

Club Dumas / Arturo Pérez-Reverte

2010-11-05T10:37:00.000-04:00

Nous avons les livres, comme le monde, que nous méritons...

(Pedro Ceniza)

"the book": the perils of imaginary architecture

2010-11-02T22:34:00.000-04:00

Over the past two days, I have spent many waking hours — and probably quite a few sleeping ones besides — trying to make sense of the floor plan of a building inspired by the one pictured here, but not quite identical. My "imaginary building" has four floors instead of two, no door, and is three windows wide; however, it is attached to another, much larger structure.

The main problem stemmed from the fact that I started off with a very vivid picture of the way the second floor must be laid out, and that my "vision" started from the top of the staircase leading up to that floor. But try as I might, I could not reconcile either the relative position of the main rooms or the placement of the windows with what was physically possible in this particular building. Not only was the location of the stairwell critical, but I also had to "install" a lift at the end of a corridor, close to a certain door, and in a spot that would make sense on the ground floor. Oh, and of course there was that blasted bathroom! (Anyone walking past my apartment between 10 and 11 yesterday evening could have heard me shout repeatedly, "BUT WHERE THE &¢%?@* DO I PUT THAT BATHROOM???", then heap a thousand curses upon it.)

I therefore went to bed feeling thoroughly demoralised, thinking that this was an impossible task, and fell asleep trying various locations for that damned stairwell on the floor plan that had engraved itself inside my head. (Think low-tech Tetris using graph paper and you'll get some idea of what that was like.) After a hurried breakfast, I gave it another try this morning, not really expecting any more success. Thankfully for my sanity, by shifting the orientation of the stairs and moving a door further down a hallway, I arrived at a satisfactory compromise. While not perfect, it retains enough of the features that my mind first conceived weeks ago to form a familiar frame for the events that will be taking place there. Crisis averted!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time / Mark Haddon (2)

2010-11-01T18:42:00.000-04:00

I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.

(Christopher John Francis Boone)

"the book": a treasure trove

2010-11-01T12:26:00.000-04:00

Years ago, in a little Ali Baba's cave of an antique shop that sadly no longer exists (literally — the building has since been razed to the ground), I purchased a bundle of very old photos. I loved to flip through them once in a while and imagine different lives for these now long-dead strangers. The photos were somehow misplaced when I moved back to my home town, and I was convinced they were lost forever. But on Friday evening, while digging through a box for something completely unrelated, I came upon a white plastic bag wedged between stacks of old bills. Extricating the bag, I instantly knew what it contained!

I thought I would show you my favourites...

Is this not a handsome couple? That dress is exquisite! And look, a bowler!

I can honestly say that this is the most bewildering facial hair I have ever seen! Positively leonine!

For some reason, this photo fills me with sadness. Perhaps it is because of the little girl's expression,

or simply the black cardboard frame, which gives it a mourning aspect...

Yes, these (and possibily others from my treasure trove) will find their place in the book, of that I am certain!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time / Mark Haddon

2010-10-31T09:47:00.000-04:00

I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them.

(Christopher John Francis Boone)

[I am only 7 years late in falling under the spell of this book... I am almost ashamed to admit that, oblivious of its success, I only purchased it from a used book shop because the title is taken from one of my favourite Sherlock Holmes stories, Silver Blaze, which can be downloaded here in a masterful and entertaining audio version performed by David Timson.]

Possession / A.S. Byatt

2010-10-29T07:52:00.000-04:00

Tell me then, what do you write? For I suppose you do write? It is a métier where the desire without the act is a destructive phantom.

(Christabel, to Sabine)

"the book": a dilemma

2010-10-28T12:07:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I had what seemed a brilliant flash: to make one of the book's main characters (a young man) a house-bound invalid. The thought really thrilled me and, during the evening, I excitedly set about making notes and expanding on it. But then it occured to me that this might be a monumental mistake.

I always intended for he and the other main character (a young woman) to be evenly matched — equals. Would it be possible for them to be true counterparts if he is at a physical disadvantage? I don't think it would even occur to her to view him as her "inferior", and he most certainly wouldn't perceive himself as such... but it probably would have some effect on their interractions, at least initially, no? How can I deal with this whole thing in a way that doesn't let it factor into their "relationship"? Perhaps I should simply be straightforward with it and make them confront the issue head-on... or just scrap the entire idea, which would be a bit of a shame.

"the book": an introduction of sorts

2010-10-26T16:27:00.001-04:00

I cannot remember a time when I did not want to write a book.

Of course, when one is 6 or 7 years old, writing a book seems little more than a vague, yet thrilling idea. Something at once easily achieved and just out of reach, not unlike winning an Olympic gold medal: "I can swim really fast too!" Only with age did the entire project take on progressively intimidating proportions. Self-doubt crept in. I was never the most confident child, and writing occupied a pedestal that grew taller and taller while my encumbrance of a body remained small. (By the way, I've always considered that being shorter than everyone else had the advantage and inconvenient of offering a prime spot from which to see up people's noses: not a pleasant view, but one that makes them thoroughly unintimidating.)

With characteristic timidity, I showed my little poems and stories to teachers. Out of their few encouraging (or simply kind?) words, I built a stepladder on which to stand, stretching with all my might so that my fingertips brushed the very edge of my aspiration. But how long can one perch there so precariously while the fragile structure under one's feet decays, then finally turns to dust?

Cruelly, reading — the very thing that had first sparked in me the idea, the possibility, and had all my life been a reliable source of confort — now had a sharp, bitter edge. My heart's fondest desire had turned to a lead chain that weighed it down, tightening link by link with each turned page until I wished for nothing more than to forget I had ever dreamed of writing...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I cannot remember a time when I felt truly free.

Throughout my childhood, I lived in a peculiar atmosphere where one's thoughts and feelings were expected to fit a certain specific pattern; any bits that stuck out from the prescribed shape would be carefully snipped. Oh, always with the best of intentions, of course. The oddity of such a system did not strike me until, well into my twenties, I came to the abrupt realization that I had no idea who I was. Tastes? Opinions? I had none.

And so began the slow, often painful and confusing process of growing up. Understanding. Learning. Thinking for myself. Feeling for myself. How wonderfully liberating it all is!

What does this have to do with writing? Excellent question.

Instead of spending the remaining years of my life feeling sorry for myself and thinking: "I always really wanted to write a book," I've decided to do it. To write. A book. A crime novel.

Not for publication. Not even for anyone else to read. For myself. For fun. Imagine that! Doing something you've wanted to do for years but never dared to do because... well, because you might not be very good at it, and other people might mock you, and it probably wouldn't come to anything anyway, right?

Pish posh, I say!

I made a start a few weeks ago. A snatch of dialogue here; a character description there; an occasional short scene. Nothing organized, nothing structured, I simply write as the inspiration takes me. Sometimes I get frustrated and throw my pen at the other end of the room. (I forgot to mention: I always write by hand; I'm old-fashioned that way.) But there are moments when I finish a sentence and smile and laugh because it's so much fun! I'm constantly seeing or hearing something, and thinking: "This has got to be in the book!"

So consider yourself warned, Dear Reader: I'll probably be mentioning the book from time to time. These posts will clearly be marked the book and I've created a label specifically for the book so you won't stumble upon them by accident.

Time to be in Earnest / P.D. James

2010-10-22T11:43:00.000-04:00

The past can't now be altered, the future has yet to be lived, and consciously to experience every moment of the present is the only way to gain at least the illusion of immortality.

perfection

2010-10-21T14:03:00.000-04:00

My favourite bread (kamut) from my favourite bakery (Panetier). It almost feels like a sacrilege to run a knife through that crust.

shedding a different light

2010-10-20T19:40:00.001-04:00

As you may have noticed, I have been modifying — simplifying — this space over the last few days. It is now rather bare-boned, and I may or may not flesh it out a little in the future. However, as it stands, it constitutes a suitable receptacle for the posts that will be published here from now on.

I am yet unsure in which direction this journey will be taking me, aside from under the surface...

Thank you for visiting, for looking at my photos, for reading my words, for leaving your comments. Travelling companions such as you are more than my heart could desire.

Now, shall we...?

Sunday

2010-10-19T18:30:00.002-04:00

Mrs Dalloway / Virginia Woolf

2010-10-19T09:13:00.002-04:00

She felt very young; at the same time unspeakably aged. She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on. She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxicabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day. Not that she thought herself clever, or much out of the ordinary.

Saturday

2010-10-18T13:25:00.002-04:00

Just a jumble of images. Allergies are leaving me little energy for words at the moment.

proof

2010-10-14T22:43:00.000-04:00

Not proof of my vanity, but rather photographic evidence that this momentous event truly did take place. I wore a skirt! (It's really a sleeveless dress, but still...) And I went out in public!

This photo also proves 4 things:
a) my mirror is in serious need of dusting
b) my bedroom resembles a warehouse
c) the size difference between my calves really is that obvious
d) my footwear selection is very limited (it was either those fake Converse hi-tops or my steel-toed Para boots...)

personal assistant

2010-10-14T20:41:00.002-04:00

poetry

2010-10-11T17:49:00.002-04:00

10 days unlike any other.

Redefining limits; overcoming fears; encountering blocks; shattering preconceptions; experiencing doubts.
Having lightbulb moments. Overindulging on caffeine. Neglecting domestic chores.
Reading. Writing. Photographing. Walking. But mostly listening. And feeling.

Babette's menu. An unhealthy fascination with Macbeth. The absence of war is not peace. Questioner and questioned. Elvis on the radio. Strange behaviour from a dog. Buffalo bulldozer. So little is required to write. I taught my children to be strong. Birds-pliers. Dress shirts pressed with teeth. Sew my torso back onto my ever-moving legs.

Confusion. Shock.
Illumination.

chains

2010-10-08T19:02:00.002-04:00

I dared not, convinced myself that I could not, that I should not, sat immobile, held my tongue, then quietly made my way to the exit while others' gazes were averted.

urban hunting...

2010-10-07T14:36:00.002-04:00

... RD style.

quiet

2010-10-05T17:14:00.004-04:00

On a whim, afternoon tea and a book on a shady bench in one of my favourite spots.
Not alone, but in company with its silent dwellers, majestic trees, a multitude of chirping birds, and one very vocal raven.

excess

2010-10-04T09:54:00.002-04:00

Too much wind.
Too many words.
Too many walks.
Too much caffeine.
Too many ideas.
Not enough sleep.

brimful

2010-09-27T08:04:00.004-04:00

On Saturday, I:

- woke with a persistent headache, aching muscles, and a raging thirst;
- had a very hot bath;
- came near to fainting in a charity shop changing room;
- purchased a faded pair of second-hand blue jeans;
- returned a book to the public library and took out another;
- could not find a suitable laptop/notebook/tons-of-papers bag;
- bought a butternut squash;
- had banana bread for tea;
- believed;
- wrote/crossed out/reworded/reworked/copied out;
- doubted;
- ate leftovers for dinner;
- believed;
- retired to bed early.

On Sunday, I:

- woke with the old familiar hip pain and a ravenous hunger;
- noticed the gusty autumnal wind thrashing the trees at the end of the street;
- ate a sandwich for lunch;
- doubted;
- packed pens, papers and reference materials in a too-heavy bag;
- fell for the singular charm of a young musical prodigy in fuschia trousers, green shirt, and multicoloured bow-tie;
- breathed in the mingled scents of incense, polished wood and dusty, yellowing paper;
- heard the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (BWV 565) performed in person for the first time;
- froze my nose, ears and fingertips;
- sipped coffee, finished a novel, and tried to eavesdrop on a German couple in a café;
- made a large pot of vegetable soup;
- had dinner while reading, again;
- broke my television fast to watch a story of youthful foolishness and (possibly) mature love;
- retired to bed late.

droplets

2010-09-24T15:53:00.002-04:00

A very wet few days are announced. Should plans unfold as expected, they will be spent with pen in hand and steaming mug perpetually within reach.

[photos taken from my 2005 archives]

May your own weekend be restful!

autumn

2010-09-23T07:52:00.015-04:00

It is here once more, and my arms spread wide open in welcome. I am tired but refreshed, focused but open. Let the harvest begin!

focusless

2010-09-17T19:53:00.002-04:00

Lately, I have found myself feeling overwhelmed by the multitude of sights and sounds around me, unable to concentrate on any one task for more than a few minutes at a time. Distractions abound in these days of instantaneous communications, disconnecting us from our own deeper thoughts. I am in sore need of peace both internal and external.

In an attempt to lend a more attentive ear to my inner voice, I have opted to spend this weekend away from common sources of interference. Thus, no computer, no telephone, no television, no MP3 player, no radio. What will I be doing? I will let my own mood direct me, though possibilities are boundless: reading, writing, cooking and baking, going for walks, taking care of domestic chores, sitting in a café, lavishing attention on RD, sorting through newly-acquired books, taking photos, sketching... I am certain that I will not be bored for a second!

victuals

2010-08-29T17:49:00.002-04:00

(No, that is not chicken on that pizza at centre left!)

Great Expectations / Charles Dickens

2010-08-29T13:06:00.001-04:00

The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to be displaced by your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be.

(Pip, to Estella)

the crowning touch

2010-08-25T16:09:00.002-04:00

I can hardly wait to wear it!

Victoriana

2010-08-21T17:50:00.005-04:00

Our final destination — and if I may say the crowning moment of our day-trip to Quebec City — was the Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec, for an exhibition titled Paintings from the Reign of Victoria. I learned of this event, during which the Museum would host the Royal Holloway Collection, from an advertisement on the side of a public transit bus in my small town, and was overjoyed to have the opportunity to travel to that area just in time to see it!

Preceded by a suitably majestic vestibule, the exhibition took over two rooms on the museum's first floor. By categorizing the collection into different themes (everyday life, historical scenes, countryside landscapes, animals, etc.), it offered fascinating insights into the Victorian mind. I was glad to have opted for the excellently produced audio guide, which added illuminating tidbits to the information provided on the exhibit cards. A charming detail further evidenced the great care given to its distinguished pictorial guests by the Museum's staff: the walls of the nook situated at the end of each exhibition room were adorned with exquisitely patterned wallpaper in rich jewel tones.

While a number of the paintings moved me beyond words, including Frederick Daniel Hardy's Expectation: Interior of Cottage, E.L. Long's The Babylonian Marriage Market, Briton Riviere's Sympathy, Joshua Mann's The Cauld Blast (inspired by a poem by Robert Burns), and Sir John Millais' The Princes in the Tower, I was surprised to find that a few others caused me to smile or giggle in appreciation of the artist's humour. I could not help but be reminded of Charles Dickens' Bleak House when viewing A Flaw in the Title by Edmund Blair Leighton, and the annoyance evident on the dockyard workers' faces in Daniel Maclise's Peter the Great at Deptford Dockyard was truly comical, as were the diverse reactions exhibited by the geese in An Anxious Moment by Briton Riviere.

One picture quite literally stopped me in my tracks, causing chills to travel up my spine. The artist's unflinching yet compassionate look at his grim subject matter, the diffuse light, the attention paid to each character's wretched circumstances, the very size of the canvas, all persuaded me that I had stepped straight into a Dickens novel. (Indeed, subsequent research revealed that Dickens was so impressed with Fildes' work that he asked the painter to illustrate one of his novels.)


Applicants to Admission to a Casual Ward by Sir Luke Fildes (Royal Holloway Collection, University of London)

In spite — or perhaps because — of the extremely disturbing feelings stirred up by Applicants..., I returned to it multiple times, paying it one last visit before reluctantly reentering the 21st century. Alas, the exhibition's catalogue exceeded my budget; I consoled myself with the purchase of 2 postcards (including that of Applicants...), as well as a beautiful mug that can be seen here.

This intense experience triggered a desire to immerse myself in former days through words and images. Coincidentally, I had borrowed The Young Victoria from the local library even before the visit to Quebec City was spoken of. (Oh, the Coronation Ball! And oh, Rupert Friend!)

My only regret was that I managed only two viewings before the DVD was due to be returned... As indicated in the sidebar, I am currently reading Dicken's Great Expectations, and I suspect that the 19th century will prominently feature in my book and movie list for the Fall and Winter seasons.

Old Quebec City

2010-08-19T16:49:00.003-04:00

Since my sister and her husband were visiting last week, the entire family went on a little day-trip. To my great delight, our destination was one for which I have much fondness: Old Quebec City.

We first stopped at the year-round market near the old harbour where, among other delicious edibles, I purchased the wonderful tomato and loaf of bread that were featured in a recent post. After marveling at the numerous tables weighed down with fresh berries and rainbow-like vegetables, my senses were drawn to a veritable Ali-Baba's cave of a shop situated at one end of the market. Lost among its cramped, labyrinthine shelves crammed high with every imaginable culinary component, I chanced upon row after row of burnished tea caddies and tier upon tier of neat little wooden drawers filled with the most fragrant spices, then found myself gazing longingly at a colourful array of exotic sweets. Such sights and scents, coupled with the near-tropical heat, almost convinced me that I had accidentally stepped into a foreign bazaar.

Pulling myself back to reality, I joined the others for a ramble through the oldest part of the city. Tourist season was in full swing and, since the narrow streets were quite crowded, I had to keep a firm reign on my instinctive reaction when encountering ancient buildings and structures: placing my hands upon them. I have a deep-rooted love of old stones, and feel that they can speak to us of former times if we will but listen.

In order to climb from the Basse Ville Basse (Lower Town) towards the Haute Ville (Upper Town), one can either brave a string of steep staircases, or jam oneself in the company of friends and strangers into an airless little funicular. Should one choose the latter and be fortunate enough to enter the cabin last, one may glimpse a wonderful view of the crooked streets and colourful roofs below.

At the very foot of the famous Château Frontenac, one and all are free to roam among archeological digs. Sadly, my companions showed little interest in these...

... as we were bound for a renown restaurant specializing in crêpes bretonnes (Brittany-style pancakes). These make up the entirety of the menu and are served by waitresses in full traditional costume, including the elaborate lace headdress. Having quickly gobbled up a bowl of fresh fruit (intended as a garnish for one of the crêpes, but the only item I could eat), I patiently looked around, admiring the photographs and furniture on display.

For me, the best was yet to come... but that will be the object of another post!

2010-08-18T19:58:00.002-04:00

What have I been doing recently? Spending time with RD, baking, tidying up my links list, reading, working on a project, drinking copious amounts of tea, spending alarming amounts of money, watching tennis... I will soon try to post photos from a day trip taken last week.

beefheart

2010-08-12T11:09:00.002-04:00

celebration

2010-07-27T14:01:00.002-04:00

How time flies... I have now been sharing the life of this most unique of beings for 3 entire years.

HAPPY ADOPTION DAY, SWEETIE!

long days

2010-07-18T09:16:00.002-04:00

survival

2010-07-09T22:01:00.002-04:00

This has been a week to remember... and one I would prefer to forget. The heatwave that enveloped much of the north-east made for 5 undescribably miserable days.

On Tuesday morning, just after returning from the tiny market where I had purchased berries, I got very suddenly ill with what seemed at first to be food poisoning, but turned out to be heat stroke coupled with dehydration. The effects were every bit as unpleasant, although I can honestly say that I have never been this sick in my entire life. I am convinced that what contributed to my survival were my trusty fan and cold compresses applied alternately to the forehead and to the nape of the neck. Because of the unrelenting heat and humidity, it was only yesterday evening that I started to feel well again — well enough to stroll down to the harbourfront where I slowly savoured coconut milk and blueberry sorbets, seated on the edge of one of the giant concrete flowerpots that line the downtown streets.

As today dawned, temperatures felt more oppressive than ever. Where was this rain that we had been promised all week? Then, in the middle of the afternoon, it came: the skies opened, thunder roared, lightning flashed! In my intense joy, it seemed entirely appropriate to celebrate in the manner I had jokingly described on Twitter a few hours earlier: by stepping out onto my balcony and getting a thorough soaking! It was the most delicious feeling in the world to sense every heavy drop of crisp, cold water as it hit my body. The cooling storm lasted so long that I could easily believe it would never stop...

Steam rose from the roofs as they cooled off!

Though the heatwave may be over for the moment, intense heat and humidity are again in the short-term forecast. Should this prove to be the case, many more of these delectable concoctions will be consumed.

Blend watermelon with a generous squeeze
of lime juice; serve well chilled.

You may be wondering: "How did poor RD deal with all this?" He passed the long days lying, as if melted, either upon the linoleum floor in front of the refrigerator or in the darkened bedroom. In order to assist him in staying cool, he also received frequent rubdowns with a cold towel, which left him much rumpled and puzzled. This evening, he reverted to his old habit of attempting to climb into my lap while I type, then gave his green mouse vigorous chase around the living room. You could say that he came through remarkably well!

DiMaggio!

2010-07-01T20:13:00.000-04:00

Do you remember the lovely goat who made such an impression on me when I visited Farm Sanctuary? I was desperate to learn his name, and my email to the sanctuary has not yet been answered. Just as despair loomed on the horizon, thanks to the wonders of the internet and to the kindness of a young woman who is on an internship at Farm Sanctuary (I will be eternally grateful to you, Louzilla!), I now know that he is called DiMaggio!

(Upon performing a search for additional information, I picked up this tasty morsel: it appears that I am not DiMaggio's sole admirer, since he is the goat depicted in Your Daily Vegan's logo!)

hmmmm?

2010-06-24T18:13:00.001-04:00

What's going on around here?

I'm so busy with work and a number of professional/personal projects that I don't have time for much else! I hope to be able to post again soon!

2010-06-15T14:38:00.002-04:00

hello birdie

2010-06-13T16:58:00.003-04:00

Can you see her?

For the past week or so, RD and I have been treated each morning to a serenade delivered by this sweet little bird (who I believe is the female of some species of grosbeak, but my twitching skills are woefully lacking; please enlighten me if you can!). She sits on that tangle of electrical wires, right in front of the living room window, for all the world like an operatic diva rehearsing for her solo performance. In between vocalisations, she also spends a good long while preening herself... then finally departs for what is no doubt a busy day.

EDIT: Thanks to Nathalie's sharp eye, my visitor has been identified as a male sparrow! (And my total ignorance of birds has been confirmed.)

Finger Lakes, NY, part 6: Farm Sanctuary

2010-06-11T15:40:00.000-04:00

On the last day of my vacation in the Finger Lakes area, I had the great privilege of spending a little time at Farm Sanctuary, a refuge for farmed animals rescued from abusive situations in stockyards, factory farms and slaughterhouses. As you can see from the first photo below, the site is absolutely beautiful.

I experienced the strangest sensation as soon as I exited the car: I could feel my heart lift within me with each breath — I was home! I don't believe this was due to excess tiredness after our arduous trek through Watkins Glen State Park, to the heat of the day, or to indigestion from the delicious seitan hoagie I'd hungrily scarfed down at the Glen Mountain Market just a short time before. No; this place genuinely exudes a calm, a quietness, a peace, something almost undefinable that was absolutely palpable to me.

We entered the visitor centre, called the People Barn (cue Animal Farm jokes!). A lovely woman welcomed us and led us to the viewing area in a corner of the large interior space. She regretfully informed us that, due to unforeseen circumstances, they were short-staffed and could not take us on a guided tour of the sanctuary at that time. This was most disappointing to me. I had so looked forward to hear the animals' stories and to learn how they had ended up here! However, after viewing a short introductory video that explained the origin and mission of Farm Sanctuary, we were provided with a map and told that, should we happen upon the previous group on our way, we would be very welcome to join them.

This was our first glimpse at one of our hosts. That grass must have been a rare delicacy, because our presence went completely unnoticed! (Note the wallow in the background, a must in this blistering weather.) We spotted the previous group near the chicken enclosure and quickly made our way to them, just in time to enter the pig barn!

What better way to deal with the heat than by taking a nap? All of the pigs in the barn were blissfully drowsing the afternoon away, and none stirred in spite of the dozen or so humans who scratched their bellies and took photos of them. What a life! I wonder what pigs dream of... The only clue I could gather was that the sow on the left kept wrinkling her nose in her sleep.

If you have never met one of these magnificent creatures, I can only wish you that good fortune. Initially, it is their size — certainly more than 5 feet in length — that is most striking. But if you approach a sow, kneel by her side and stroke her, you will soon realize that under a smattering of coarse hair, her skin bears a striking resemblance to yours!

Although it was ever so tempting to lie down in the hay and take a little snooze in good company, we had to move on. Just next door, the neighbours were all ahoo! Having perceived a threat, a gander made his displeasure known with grand posturing and vocalisations that must have been audible to everyone for miles. Most intimidating! As though this was not excitement enough, just as he calmed down, a duck race broke out!

Roosters and hens ambled here and there with an air of nonchalance, some making their way to the barn reserved for "retired" pigs for a bit of cool shade.

Upon turning back towards the People Barn, we happened upon this perplexing sight:

It appears that the consensus at Farm Sanctuary as to how to best deal with the hottest hours of the day is to sleep, no matter what position you find yourself in!

The goats. Oh, the goats! What can I tell you about them? Let me start by introducing you to my new friend, whose name I was regrettably unable to learn, but whose personality made a permanent impression upon me.

When he saw us coming, he stationed himself along the fence and, whenever one of us tried to move ahead of him, he immediately took a few steps to stay level with that person! He did this over and over again. Eventually, the others walked off, leaving me alone with this charming prankster. While I perched on a nearby bench so that I could reach over the fence and stroke his silky ears, we spent a good while together. I am afraid that I talked nonsense for the first few minutes; he was the first goat I had ever met and I must admit I felt a little intimidated. But in time, I let silence fall and enjoyed the simple, soothing presence of this lovely creature...

I managed quite a few photos of the back of his head, and a single one of his profile, taken while I scratched his ear!

And this is where this all too brief visit ended. Had my traveling companions showed any interest, we could have lounged around and waited for the next tour (the last of the day). Alas, they had other well-fixed ideas. In spite of the tastings performed at 3 or 4 of the vineyards that dot the region on the previous day, they wanted to repeat the experience. (Let me explain that I drink but rarely, since alcohol does not agree with me. I had done one tasting the day before and, though it was enjoyable at the moment, I bitterly regretted it later that evening...) Outnumbered, I resigned myself to looking at pretty vines and landscapes while the others swigged wine samples, though I did not relish the idea; suffice it to say I would rather have shovelled manure.

Not to end on this disappointing note, here is one last image from Farm Sanctuary: the little bed & breakfast cabins. An idyllic setting, is it not? (My secret hope is to volunteer and be a guest here in the future...)

Finger Lakes, NY, part 5: Watkins Glen State Park

2010-06-06T14:31:00.001-04:00

While Taughannock Falls affords a pleasant stroll on a level, mostly shaded path leading to a pretty waterfall, I suspect that Watkins Glen State Park is used as training ground for the Marines. Narrow, steep stone staircases climbing up and up... But what a spectacular place! I am certain that I felt Stephen Maturin's presence at my elbow on numerous occasions (or perhaps it was only sunstroke).

Prepare to have your breath taken away, no trekking shoes necessary!

Finger Lakes, NY, part 4: Taughannock Falls State Park

2010-06-05T20:46:00.000-04:00

Finger Lakes, NY, part 3: the vineyards

2010-06-04T21:02:00.000-04:00

the lovely Cody from Damiani Wine Cellars

Finger Lakes, NY, part 2: the surroundings

2010-06-03T08:20:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2010-06-02T12:58:00.000-04:00

Finger Lakes, NY, part 1: the cabin

2010-06-01T17:48:00.001-04:00

Yes, I am home, and thoroughly exhausted. There are innumerable thoughts and feelings whirling around my mind. I find I cannot formulate them coherently for now, so I will be posting mainly photos but few words for the moment.

Above are glimpses of the cabin I shared with my sister and brother-in-law. (In the last photo: the wonderfully soothing view I enjoyed when lying in bed!)

travelling in style

2010-05-28T12:37:00.062-04:00

In VEGAN style, that is!

As you read this, my trusty green suitcase and I are on our way to a rustic cabin nestled in the Finger Lakes area of New York State for a short stay. Should the stars remain correctly aligned, there is a good chance of a visit with rescued farm animals at Farm Sanctuary... about which I am more excited than words could express!

There is apparently a market nearby, where I will no doubt purchase excessive quantities of fresh produce. My tastebuds are now more than ready for tangy, juicy strawberries. Nevertheless, as the sole vegan in a group composed of my parents, my sister, her husband and myself, I have taken along a few provisions as a precaution against hunger (as well as attending symptoms of grumpiness and headache). I have also packed my personal blender and, in carefully labeled containers, various ingredients intended for daily breakfast smoothies. What else? Dried fruits, nuts, a few bars for meals on the go, tea (of course!), almond milk (can you spot my little friend on the box?), and pinhead oats, should the fancy for overnight oatmeal strike. And since my sister and brother-in-law will be taking care of our first dinner in our remote location, the least I could do was to provide dessert!

I am looking forward to breathing different air, admiring other vistas, lifting my spirits with new adventures... Upon my return, I hope to share a few images and experiences with you.

(You may be wondering what is happening to RD during my absence. I am sorry to say that I don't have the good fortune to know a catsitter extraordinaire like Lisa, so he is being boarded at his veterinarian's office. It breaks my heart to leave him there, and I miss him every second we are apart, especially since he detests cages — but it simply isn't possible to leave him alone for such a long time...)

things recently eaten

2010-05-25T09:02:00.002-04:00

Accompanied by cup after cup of green tea, victuals of the baked kind once again made their appearance on my plate this past weekend: delicious scones, from a recipe originally posted long ago by Gracia and easily veganized), some with a generous dusting of Ceylon cinnamon. (To bring a touch of novelty to further baking operations, I have recently succumbed to a heart-shape cookie cutter and paper cupcake liners adorned with four-leaf clovers. The latter, once temperatures return to their seasonal norm, will enclose generously sized cupcakes crammed with dried fruit and seeds to be consumed at breakfast or tea-time.)

A chance find of organic kale, which I once despaired of ever coming across in these parts, proved the ideal excuse to make pizza, with the fantastically frizzled leaves replacing my customary spinach atop it. They then appeared in a salad double-bill, alongside a simple yet tasty quinoa concoction.

And finally... apricots have arrived! True, they are not local — but their bright colour grants me the fleeting fancy of holding a small sunny sphere in the palm of my hand.

a few glimpses

2010-05-24T13:36:00.000-04:00

A few disorganized thoughts and images from the recent past, as I tackle two rather large jobs that must be completed by the middle of the week. More coherent posting will resume shortly.

Temperatures have turned decidedly summerlike around these parts. I am experiencing heat that seems to want to pin me down like butterflies on a card, and dazed by the heady scents of lilac in full blossom as well as other spiced perfumes emanating from unidentified blooms. From his windowside seat, RD sniffs eagerly at the outside air; then, when he can no longer stand the swelter, takes refuge in his cabin to wait it out. These heretofore unattained temperatures have alas been causing men young and old to drop shirt, a most disturbing sight in the majority of cases.

Friday saw the unexpectedly early arrival on my doorstep of the third and final novel by Stieg Larsson, now set aside for summertime reading, though RD immediately put the discarded cardboard wrapper to good use by snoozing upon it in many and varied postures.

In anticipation of the tiny local market, I purchased the perfect basket with a spiffy red lining (which RD immediately tried on for size - a perfect fit). In a few weeks, it will be filled to the brim with strawberries, raspberries, ground cherries, zucchini, tomatoes and various edible delights.

framed

2010-05-19T14:09:00.001-04:00

It took nearly 2 years... now where should it hang?

the art of the toilette

2010-05-17T17:44:00.002-04:00

remaining afloat

2010-05-14T20:41:00.004-04:00

The past few days have been difficult ones for various reasons. But today, just as the sun seemed to be finally peeking from behind the dark clouds, there were very sad news from a pregnant former stray cat who needed an emergency C-section to give birth to her kittens... As I type this, the latest news is that only one of the kittens has survived and is still fighting for its fragile life. The mother, Whiskey, seems to be recovering well from the surgery and anesthesia. Would you please visit Lisa's blog and leave a message of support for Whiskey and her kitten, as well as Joy, Jim and Jess, the kind humans who took her in?

UPDATE: Sadly, the last kitten did not make it... Whiskey is apparently doing well. She is only 8 months old, and her pregnancy was very high-risk; had she given birth in the wild, she would not have survived. One more reason to spay/neuter cats — it can prevent deaths! THANK YOU for your support, positive energy, good vibes, etc. Please visit Lisa's blog to learn more and leave a few words of comfort to Joy, Jim and Jess.

Although the unfairness of life is nothing new to me, hearing about such precious, innocent creatures experiencing pain, suffering and distress is like being stabbed through the heart. For some reason, the impact seems even more intense where felines are concerned — perhaps because I have felt a close kinship with them from infancy, or because I share my life with one of them. It terrifies me to even think of it, but if anything were ever to happen to my sweet RD, a part of me would be irreparably destroyed; I would never be the same person again. In spite of his irritating stubbornness, irrational habits and out-of-control behaviour (he was not nicknamed "Red Devil" without good reason!), he possesses a loving and empathetic soul. He always gives me the most enthusiastic of welcomes every time I enter the apartment, even when I have only been away for 30 seconds. He does his best to make me smile when he knows my spirits are flagging. On the rare occasions when I am sick in bed, he lies next to me on the duvet, soothing me with his comforting purrs. He truly is my best friend.

It is difficult to remember that such things exist, but there are a few faint glimmers of happiness in this tough old life:

- my new t-shirt from Herbivore arrived earlier this week
- this banana-chocolate chia pudding truly hit the spot
- RD the mighty shadow hunter honed his skills
- this morning's breakfast tray was a symphony of colours

Now to brew a cup of tea, nibble on a few squares of organic dark chocolate, and put the baroque music channel on the cordless headphones...

sometimes I despair of myself

2010-05-09T20:37:00.003-04:00

Oh, what's the use of fighting it! Yes, more food! This is the absolutely delicious tofu scramble I made this morning, using the basic recipe from Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Vegan Brunch and adding my favourite combination of vegetables: mushrooms, red bell pepper and spinach (the usual topping for my pizzas as well), scooped up with sprouted corn tortillas. A perfect blend of flavours and textures with which to start a lazy Sunday.

The rest of the day was spent in lounging about, installing my new acquisitions on my already well-populated bookshelves, watching a televised adaptation of this novel, drinking tea and resting my poor weary feet. What does it matter if the wind blows or the sky rains down?

I rarely mention veganism on this blog aside from the food aspect, but I believe this would be the appropriate moment for a word concerning Mother's Day...

Cows are mothers too, but their babies are taken from them at birth so that their milk can be used for human consumption. This special Cow Ribbon was issued by Liberation BC to show support to ALL mothers, and I proudly wear mine on my backpack.

a Saturday

2010-05-08T17:22:00.002-04:00

In spite of the freezing, blustery weather and the threatening rain, I set off early this morning to the annual used book sale. Twenty-five minutes of trudging in the eerie stillness of the sleepy town, much of it uphill, brought me to the unsightly concrete building where a small number of brave souls were already queuing. The hour or so of waiting before we were admitted inside flew by with surprising speed; my lips remained sealed, but my ears caught snippets of conversations blown my way by the chill wind. The doors opened, a cheer rose from the front line, and the familiar faded, dusty, stained red carpet was trampled by enthusiastic literature lovers both young and old. As usual, the only section that attracted my attention was that reserved for English books. (It comprised of 4 tables compared to 3 last year, and a single one just 5 years ago!) Tring to ignore the trio of teenaged girls who insisted on carrying out a breathless conversation while sorting through the piles of volumes, I scanned titles and grabbed all that interested me, swiftly dropping them into the large bag that hung from my arm. After making a first circuit, it was time to sit down for a preliminary sorting. An anthology of Victorian prose writing proved of little interest; a few heavy hardcovers were similarly rejected due to the sadly limited capacity of my backpack. Out of sheer bloody-mindedness, I opted to keep Wuthering Heights, my literary nemesis, even though I already own a copy. As for Mansfield Park, I simply could not remember at the moment whether I had an exemplar distinct from my poor battered Jane Austen omnibus edition (I did). A second round of the tables yielded no further finds. Another queue, this time for the scale and till; for less than $8 CAN, I came away with a small but select addition to my bookcase, including, to my great delight, these two treasures:

a pocket edition of Keats' poems
(RD seems particularly interested in it; are cats generally fond of poetry?)

and a beautiful edition of my favourite novel

This called for a celebration of sorts, and how better to make merry than with sushi? Yes, I know, more food! The inari (fried tofu pockets filled with rice and topped with marinated shiitake) and the veggie tartare maki (rice paper rolls containing lettuce, avocado, marinated shiitake, red pepper, carrot and daikon) proved delicious treats. As for the oshinko hosomaki (marinated Japanese radish roll), I found the crunchy texture rather off-putting. Give me my beloved avocado maki!

So it is with oft-replenished cup of tea in hand and the slightly musty scent of my new purchases in the air that I shall be spending the remainder of this rainy weekend. What about you?

easy like Friday night dinner

2010-05-07T19:50:00.001-04:00

I seem to be posting mostly food photos of late! There is a much-anticipated giant book sale in town tomorrow morning, and I fully anticipate to bring home a heavy bag full of of new volumes that will provide me with other topics in the near future.

But what about the above pictures? With the help of a spiral slicer, a humble zucchini transform into long noodles that can be topped with any sauce your heart desires. Here, sundried and fresh tomatoes, red bell pepper, a few basil leaves and a clove of garlic combine to create a rich, flavourful marinara. This quickly prepared raw pasta dish is even more fun to eat than its cooked counterpart! What could be better than shaking off the boredom of plain wheat spaghetti while getting in touch with one's inner child?

2010-05-06T19:35:00.001-04:00

socca: a simple combination of chickpea flour, water and salt

2010-05-05T20:44:00.000-04:00

2010-05-03T05:35:00.000-04:00

My words have become hopelessly tangled...

2010-04-29T08:55:00.000-04:00

Orange, carrot, mango, ginger, agave nectar.

2010-04-21T20:28:00.000-04:00

what to do with...

2010-04-15T20:49:00.001-04:00

... leftover pizza dough, leftover pizza sauce, some potatoes, baby spinach, and a couple of apples?

Savoury and sweet calzones!

(The pizza dough and sauce are from Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Vegan with a Vengeance, my very favourite cookbook.)

Wordle

2010-04-08T19:51:00.001-04:00

I beg your pardon?

Wordle!

(With thanks to Vic from Jane Austen Today for spreading word of this most entertaining tool.)

addicted

2010-04-08T07:07:00.002-04:00

night photography

2010-04-03T10:23:00.000-04:00

When I purchased my first camera, a used Canon T70 analogue, I loved to walk around the downtown area where I lived at the time and take photos. It was especially magical in the quiet hours after dinner on winter evenings, when the streets were all but deserted, and the lights from storefronts and holiday decorations shone brigher in the cold, crisp air. I'd forgotten just how challenging and rewarding night photography can be... until yesterday, the first balmy evening of the year.

shades of grey

2010-03-30T15:26:00.000-04:00

Feeling tired and frustrated. But tomorrow is another day.

a breath of fresh air

2010-03-28T09:50:00.002-04:00

This weekend is turning out to be very different from what I had imagined. It started with a wonderful Saturday morning filled with much talk and laughter in the company of a new pal (hi Josiane!). A big deal for me, the socially inadequate hermit... A valuable lesson learned: good things can come from stepping out of my comfort zone and overcoming my fears!

After a restless night, courtesy of my medication, I made up my mind to change my blog design as I'd been intending to do for a while. There are bound to be more modifications in the future, of course. Is that header photo too large? Do I have too many links? *sigh* There I go again, questioning myself and my choices. (Well, at least I'm being consistent in my behaviour!)

But for now, it's time for serious housekeeping. Over the winter months I lived surrounded by clutter, objects no longer needed or wanted and looking for a new home. Today, after giving the bathroom a long overdue scrubbing, I'll get started on a good clearing out. Perhaps afterwards my mind will be more at peace, and this place will feel more like home...

through the branches through the window

2010-03-25T07:07:00.000-04:00

hard at work

2010-03-24T12:30:00.000-04:00

RD and I, slaving away all day yesterday.

how sweet it is

2010-03-21T18:59:00.004-04:00

It's now official: spring is here! As a reward for the prolonged torture of winter (freezing weather, epic snowfalls, gale force winds, grey skies — need I continue?), Mother Nature has a special treat in store for us poor Quebecers: maple products. I admit that I have not one, but several sweet teeth, and that maple products hold a sizeable place in my heart. My favourite? Maple butter! In spite of its name, it doesn't contain any dairy, but is made from maple syrup that has been whipped to a creamy consistency. Spread on toast or on pancakes, drizzled on sliced bananas... there are so many ways I enjoy it!

After years of feeling intimidated, I recently learned how to make sushi. I can't believe I spent years convinced that it was just too difficult for a mere mortal! Having now mastered the fine art (ahem) of rolling maki, where could I turn next? How about raw sushi? My first attempt, pictured above, was slightly dissapointing. The "rice" part of the filling, an almond-based pâté flavoured with fresh ginger and lemon juice, was very tasty but had a gritty texture that became very unpleasant after a few bites. Luckily, there are other raw rice alternatives to try.

eyes to the sky

2010-03-20T16:30:00.000-04:00

head in the clouds

2010-03-19T15:57:00.001-04:00

In 2005, when I acquired my first digital camera, I was living in a wonderful apartment downtown, right on the main street, with an almost unrestricted view of the sky. Obviously, clouds were some of my favourite subjects...

intestinal fortitude

2010-03-16T20:43:00.002-04:00

[WARNING: This post is rated TMI.]

A little over 2 years ago, I started experiencing vague, recurring pains which recently became quite a bit sharper and constant. This, along with a couple of other apparently related symptoms, forced me to finally seek medical advice. (I've long been used to little niggling physical discomforts and passed master at ignoring them...) Since, as is the case of many Canadians, I don't have a family physician, I had to resort to spending long hours in the emergency room.

This is something I genuinely feel guilty about. My case is clearly not an emergency, yet there is no other way for me to consult a doctor. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm not the only person who resorts to this solution, but it doesn't do much in helping to ease my conscience.

In any case, I spent a total of 5 hours at the hospital on Monday, much of it sitting on plastic chairs, trying not to eavesdrop on neighbours' conversations or to imagine increasingly alarming diagnoses. The triage nurse drew some blood, then sent me to the radiology department. When my turn finally came to meet face to face with the doctor, I was dreading what I would learn. Her verdict? Wait for it... constipation. My reaction was, well, disbelief. "But I don't have any trouble 'going'! I went just this morning!" It must have seemed like I was doubting her competence, but I truly didn't believe it until she showed me the evidence: the x-rays clearly show that my bowels are almost completely clogged in several areas. The doctor prescribed industrial strength medicine to, erm, flush my system, as it were. I'm not exactly looking forward to their effect, but it's the end result that counts, right?

I'll be taking my first dose tonight. Eep!