No pictures for today, which has already been a day of moments too quick to photograph. Like the intersection where, as I pressed the walk button, I saw a photo attached to the pole. Black-and-white, a professional-looking shot of a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses, with a slightly startled expression on his face. After the very brief moment it took for me to notice it, a gust of wind took it away. Almost as if […]
Pictures, and otherwise Read More »
When the lights don’t come back after an hour, I start to grow anxious, imagining the worst (it appears prolonged blackouts have had that effect on me since 2003). And then there are reports of flooding in Toronto, which make me doubly anxious after the terrible floods last month in southern Alberta, including my former home, Calgary. I’m at my parents’ house, which means an abundance of flashlights and candles. We fill up jugs of
A couple of weeks ago, I took up running. I’m not exactly sure why. I’m not an athletic person by nature, and running had always felt like the sort of activity I’d dislike. To me it seemed overly focused on speed and power and pushing limits. I prefer nudging limits, only every so often. If it’s really necessary. My husband told me about the Couch to 5K plan, which is designed to ease newbies like myself into
On running and (not) writing Read More »
If you’ve been reading my blogs for a while, you may have seen me write about this before (sorry to repeat myself). This time of year I can’t help but note the date and think back. After three years it’s habitual. Berlin, my brother’s wedding, then my husband and I off to dreamy York, then the volcanic ash cloud, then a week stranded in London. Many parts of that trip went into a short story
Some York, but mostly London. Read More »
Common grackle. Red-winged blackbird. Cardinal. My favourite sounds, the sounds I remember from childhood camping trips, from walks around the neighbourhood, from lazy dreamy days. I note their return almost suddenly, just before dawn. My eyes open in the dark and I’m in mid-thought. I hear the birds outside, fluttering from naked tree to naked tree. As they have their own conversations, I try in vain to return to sleep, fluttering from plan to plan.
A small slice of the quotidian: Today, the last day of a long weekend, is quiet and lazy. Through the open balcony door there’s the sound of faraway cars, and the occasional curl of wind that’s promisingly un-chilling. On the other side of the wall I hear my neighbour belting out a few seconds of some song I can’t identify. People are sliding their balcony doors open, wiping down their chairs, getting their plant pots organized.
To those girls in the late nineties and at the turn of the century, those teenagers, who found each other through their blogs years before “blog” was a word. To those girls who resisted using the word “blog” when it did become a word. To those girls who felt the allure of a secret online journal in a time when the internet was commonly believed to be for freaks. To those girls who used invented
A love letter to the internet, 1997-2001. Read More »
Recently I transfered a few old home movies from VHS to digital files to send to my brother in Germany. We discuss them over Skype, telling each other to go to a certain time marker and pay attention. What do you notice? What did that mean? Was this how you remembered it? Was I like that? My brother has always been one of my dearest friends, but he’s also good for verifying or adjusting my
The air bites and stings. I wrap my face in my scarf and tuck my head down against the wind. But later, inside, the sun burns in through the windows like summer. And I’ve been wishing for summer lately, despite myself, despite my nature. I don’t remember the humidity, the sluggishness, the sweat, the irritation. Instead, I remember exploratory drives and shorelines and evening breezes and cold beer and dripping ice cream and stretching your
