January 30, 2007
January 29, 2007
January 26, 2007
Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the next 3 sentences.
Post the name of the book and the author.
Tag three people.
Afterward, Elizabeth May, who was a special assistant to federal environment minister Tom McMillan, was given permission to take a government jet to Haida Gwaii, and we flew off in a state of euphoria.
Our elation ended abruptly as we stepped out of the plane onto the tarmac at Sandspit, the logging community in Haida Gwaii. We were met by a mob of women pushing against the fence and screaming at us.
-David Suzuki, The Autobiography
If you aren't familiar with David Suzuki, visit his web site. He is a brilliant man whose messages are too important to be ignored.
I am tagging OrangeBlossomGoddess, Shannan and Katy.
January 23, 2007
January 22, 2007
January 21, 2007
I know, I know, I assured you all that I would give you ample notice before I hit the road again, but I really didn't think there was much chance of running into you (figuratively speaking, of course) in my local cemetery. Anyhow, let's just say that our graveyard outing left Scott very, very tense and left me wondering if those official lessons with Lino were just a figment of my imagination.
As discouraging as that experience was, I knew that I had to get right back up on the horse. So I did (two weeks later). Today, ladies and gentlemen, I drove to the grocery store with Scott. I didn't drive home from the grocery store, since I didn't think that our nerves could handle it, but at least I drove one way.
The more I drive, the more I learn about myself as a driver. For instance, I've learned that trying to contort myself in order to check the huge blind spot is too distracting to be worthwhile. And my belief that rear view mirrors are useless grows ever stronger; after all, if I have to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into the car in front of me, I certainly don't have the time to check my mirror first. What good would it do anyway? I simply don't have the coordination to look and drive at the same time. I mean, you've got pedals, the steering wheel, signals, mirrors... it's too much. I can barely pat my head and rub my tummy simultaneously. I'm doing my best to convince Scott that all I need to become a safer driver are these two signs on our car:
Scott's resistance to this idea puzzles me.
January 18, 2007
January 16, 2007
The entire house smells like singed popcorn.
January 15, 2007
January 14, 2007
January 13, 2007
January 12, 2007
January 09, 2007
January 06, 2007
Inexplicably, I have once again agreed to sign up for a season of floor hockey. When I think of the sport (and I snicker when I call it a sport), I think of this:
Floor hockey: it's not just for grade school anymore.
This doesn't mean that I feel any more grown up when I pick up a wee plastic stick and run around a primary-school gymnasium for 55 minutes. Except for the huffing and puffing and profuse sweating part. And the aching muscles the following day. That makes me feel old.