Camelopardalids

Well, I missed the 'never-before-seen' meteor shower known as the Camelopardalids on May 23/24 because I was working and the ambient light was too great to see anything of interest.

So, last night, a friend in Fergus invited me to her place to see if I could catch the 'tail end' of the shower. From the deck at her place, I saw one and it was getting late, so I left and drove home to Guelph. As I was locking my car to go into the house, I saw another one! It was not in the area where I'd been looking -- it was actually considerably west of that, so I may have missed some because of standing next to my friend's house -- which blocked out my view of where they actually could be seen.

I'd read that they would be visible between Ursa Major and Cassiopeia. Instead, it was just below, and a little west of Ursa Major. Could the meteor shower could move that much in 24 hours? Or had I been looking in the wrong place? 

Anyway, I booted it out to Jones Baseline and saw several more as I stood there, looking WNW (under the bowl of the Big Dipper / beneath the feet of Ursa Major), and feeling awed by the stars and the meteors.

Well, at least I got to see some of them. In fact, I would have been perfectly happy with just one.

Uncle Bill

I last saw Uncle Bill about a year and a half ago. I had driven down for the funeral of another uncle, and took the time to look in on Uncle Bill at the seniors’ residence where he lived. As we talked, he referred to himself as the last of the Mohicans, because his brother’s death meant that he had no siblings left.

William Graham was born in the 1920s in Ontario. He was the third of what would become six children – one girl, followed by five boys – and was the quietest of the group. Even as a child, I was aware of how lively some of my relatives could be. Uncle Bill was, to me, an oasis of calm and I loved him for it.

Bill Graham was not a morning person. Actually, that’s putting it rather mildly. My father told me that, when their parents would call the kids down for breakfast, Bill would call back “I’m up”, but he was still in bed. Finally, my grandmother had had enough. One morning when Uncle Bill was giving his standard response, Grandma Graham dumped cold water on him – yes, in bed. Amounts vary from a glassful to a bucketful, depending on who was telling the story.

When my parents were dating, my father invited my mother to dinner with his family. As is usual in these situations, he gave her a rundown of what to expect. According to my mother, Dad said “Don’t expect more than two comments from Bill, and those will be ‘hello’ and ‘good bye’.” At the table, my grandmother seated my mother between herself and Bill – who surprised everyone by chatting, quite happily, with my mother through the whole meal.

I’ve been told that, when my parents were attending a cousin’s graduation (and I was just a toddler), they left me with Uncle Bill for the afternoon. Apparently, small children are somewhat unpredictable when faced with people they may not know or remember, but we got on famously. This was the beginning of our close relationship.

When I got my ears pierced at 16, my parents drove me to Uncle Bill’s to buy my first earrings at his store in Pembroke. Choosing plain gold studs for day wear was easy but, for my second pair, I was torn between a pair of dangly earrings with red stones and a pair of semi-dangly ones with green stones. We were on our way back to Ottawa when I opened the bag to gaze on my treasures. Uncle Bill had put three pairs in the bag by mistake! I told my parents that we had to go back and return the third pair, and they laughed at my assumption. My mother told me she saw him put all three in the bag. When she went to speak, he had winked at her. I still treasure those earrings – all the more so, now that he’s gone.

He was known in the family as “the late Bill Graham”, because he never seemed to arrive anywhere on time. Somewhere along the way, I realised that it was intentional on his part. By the time he showed up, most of the other people had already left. We could sit and talk quietly and without interruptions – remember that oasis of calm I mentioned earlier?

A few years after this realisation, I stumbled across the Myers-Briggs personality test. As I learned more about the various attributes, I realised that Uncle Bill was an introvert – unlike the rest of his family who became very unhappy without other people around them. It must have been difficult to find time for himself when, all around him, his siblings would be exhorting him to go out, go to parties, etc.

Later, I discovered Dr. Elaine Aron’s book, The Highly Sensitive Person. According to her, the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) simply has a sensitive nervous system. “It means you are aware of subtleties in your surroundings, a great advantage in many situations. It also means you are more easily overwhelmed when you have been out in a highly stimulating environment for too long, bombarded by sights and sounds until you are exhausted.”

Some people reading this might think that I shouldn’t be analysing family members. Perhaps they're right. However, having read the book, and remembering our conversations on a wide variety of topics over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion that, not only was Uncle Bill an introvert, he was probably an HSP, too. He was not enamoured of loud noises and bright lights – especially for extended periods of time – and avoided conflict whenever possible.

I could empathise. When faced with conflict, I tend to duck and run. It’s rare for me to stand up for myself, although not as rare as it once was. Maybe this was what drew us together – the introversion, sensitivity, and a similar sense of humour – kindred spirits.

Yes, Uncle Bill was my favourite uncle, in a group of excellent ones. I shall miss him.

What is a funeral for?

   This morning I learned that my favourite uncle had died … last August. I only found out because I called the seniors’ home where he lived, just to chat for a few minutes. Stunned by the news, I immediately called his son who told me that it had been his wishes to keep it small – into a box and gone, with no fuss or fanfare.

   While I can understand that his preferences are paramount, I believe that funerals were designed for the people who are left behind. It’s our chance to reflect, remember, and grieve with other people who also knew the deceased. We can hear stories and share our own. It’s also an opportunity to express our condolences to the immediate family.

   As an only child, I was deeply touched by the people who cared enough to attend the funerals of both my parents. They had taken time out of their busy day to dress up and express their support.

   There weren’t enough seats to accommodate everyone at my mother’s funeral service. In theatre terms, it was standing room only. She died a month before she was due to retire from teaching. Her favourite position had been teacher librarian. Over the years, I have met a number of people who were so influenced by her that they, too, went into library work. Just this week, I e-met (through a mutual friend on Facebook) another woman who had had my mother as a teacher. She has been telling me what she remembered about my mother. It makes me feel good that my mother left such a legacy, and it helps, even almost thirty years later.

   At the moment, I’m overwhelmed by memories of my favourite uncle and am composing a letter to send to my cousins. Because I don’t have the opportunity to talk to others about Uncle Bill in person, I will post it here.

   I suppose these reflections are purely self-indulgent, but what is a blog, if not self-indulgent?

Editing the next one ...

Well, I had the third book of the series nearly finished, where Bridgitte and Chris are experiencing problems, but I need to sort some things out.

For example, I had a scene where the people who have gone to France to study Gregorian chant are all introduced. Not only does it seem contrived; it's boring, too. So, I cut that scene, and am now reworking several of the later scenes to introduce the characters in a smoother, more natural manner. Because of this, not even the first chapter of Ut Queant Laxis is ready to post yet.

In other news, I hope to have the solar panels installed on my roof soon. The company sent someone to check my roof trusses, and they are fine. Because they had to get into the attic, I had pulled everything out of the linen closet, and piled it up in the library (which is actually just a spare bedroom with several bookcases).

This weekend I finally put things back and, once I settled into my favourite chair, felt a burning desire to write again. It's weird. I thought all my chairs were comfortable, but this chair (with its matching hassock) allows me to lean back and have my head supported without being at an odd angle. Not only that, but I face four large bookcases and one shorter one -- all filled with my favourite books. Now that is an inspiration!

I hope to have some of my next book ready to publish soon. Meanwhile, I'm also researching the third book (second in the series). With the two books and work, I guess I'm busy enough.

St. Anne's Feast Day

Yes, I know that I posted this a day early, but today is the Feast of St. Anne -- the patron saint of literacy. Let us give thanks that we live in a time and culture where literacy is not only encouraged, but expected of both men and women.

If you have time to give, there are groups who help people who struggle with illiteracy and they frequently need volunteers. The following link is just one area where people can help. Yes, it's for Canada, but I'm sure many other countries have similar programs.

http://www.canadian-universities.net/Volunteer/Education_and_Literacy.html

Oops

Sorry about the difference in formatting. I'm travelling and using a different machine. When I figure out what I did wrong, I'll correct it.

Ann

Job possibility

Heard this on the local radio station and followed up with the Office for Economic Development in Guelph:

HGS Canada is considering Guelph for a new contact centre. They will be hosting a job fair on June 7 & 8 to see if there are enough qualified people to warrant setting one up here. About 500 jobs will be up for grabs and, according to the Guelph Mercury, the company would like to receive about 2,000 applicants -- so they can have their pick of the crop.

Off to update my resume now!

Recording Devices at Airports and Border Crossings

The Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA) has announced that they are installing 'listening equipment' to record conversations in airports and at border crossings. A lot of people are upset by this. They don't want anyone to hear what they are saying to their friend or spouse. On the other hand, I think it's just a return to 'the good old days' -- which were never as good as people like to think. I believe that this is merely a return to the small town way of watching your neighbours -- albeit with electronic devices instead of the town busybody telling everyone what you were saying.

In the first decade of the 20th century, about 85% of Canada's population was rural or lived in small towns or villages. In 2000, about 85% of Canadians were living in cities.

There is an anonymity in cities that does not exist in small towns. I do know this for a fact. The village where I was born had a population of about 150 people. Nothing escaped the eagle eyes of the village residents. My mother told me a story about having been at a church meeting, and walking home from it with her best friend's older brother -- who was just home from university. Between the time they left the church and the time they arrived at my grandmother's house (about a five minute walk -- ten if you're lollygagging), two people phoned my grandmother to tell her that my mother was walking with a man.

Privacy is a concept that really took hold in the late 20th century. Prior to that, everyone knew everyone else's business in their village, or on their block. Why do you think Samuel Pepys’ diary was written in a cipher? It was certainly true when we moved to an Ottawa suburb. Everyone knew everyone else on our street (it probably helped that they all had kids about the same age) and what was going on in their lives.

But, when you live in an apartment building, you might know your neighbours -- but, then again, you might not. I now live in a suburb of a southern Ontario city and have been here for four years. I know my neighbours on one side, but not on the other. I know the ladies in the houses across the street, but not the people who live behind me.

So listening in on our conversations is just another blast from the past -- with the CBSA playing the role of busybody / tattletale. Just like the days of old, they will be running to the authorities with information about who said what to whom and, again like the days of old, the people who are careless in their conversations will be in hot water.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose.

Cuts to the Federal Civil Service

While I can understand Harper’s desire to cut federal expenditures by making massive cuts to the Federal Civil Service, I don’t think most Canadians have grasped what it will mean to them in real terms.

First, the wait times for services will increase dramatically. You think the service is slow now? Just wait until it takes twice as long to get the same service because only half the people will be doing the work.

Second, our lives will become less safe. Services that we have always taken for granted – like inspections of food providers – will be pretty much a thing of the past. Remember the listeria outbreak in 2008? People died, right? Well, we better get used to it, because dramatic cuts are being planned across the board and the Canadian Food Inspection Agency will not be exempt. From what I’ve heard, these companies that package meat, as well as other foods, will be more self-regulating. If I wasn’t allergic to legumes, I would turn vegetarian.

Third, the unemployment rates will rise in all the areas that have government departments. Remember the decentralisation programs of the 1970s? There are departments all across Canada now. Yes, Ottawa will be hard hit, but so will other areas. Many of these people will not be able to find work in their fields.

Fourth, we are going to lose many of the brilliant minds who provide services and information to public – for free. I’m thinking specifically of NRC, Health and Welfare, and the Transportation Safety Board. These are people who have spent their lives working in one area. Other countries are begging for people in these fields, and more than willing to pay relocation costs. Once these people are gone, there will be no turning back. Sure, there will be people to replace them eventually, and I believe that they will have to be replaced, but the new people (as enthusiastic and hard working as their predecessors) won’t have the same level of expertise. It will take at least a work generation (about 30-40 years) to get back to the level we were at before Harper’s cuts were put into effect.

I understand that many Canadians believe that Federal Civil Servants are a lazy bunch, but I have seen them at work, putting in long hours of unpaid overtime to try to make Canada a better place. Many of them take courses on their own time and their own dime in order to up their qualifications. Sure, like any other company, there are problems who sneak in under the radar, but they are dealt with – just like they are dealt with in the private sector.

I truly believe that, when Canadians realise what has been done to the services they are accustomed to, they are going to scream bloody murder. But it will be too late.

Michel de Nostredame

After last week's post, I was contemplating the universe and remembered the original post by the man who referred to Nostradamus' predictions.


What most people seem to forget is that Michel de Nostredame (which he latinised to Nostradamus) was, first and foremost, an apothecary. That would be a chemist in British terms, a pharmacist in the Canadian lexicon, and a druggist in the American vocabulary. As I read through the jams and jellies section of the book, I was amused by how much sugar was required ... until I recalled that sugar was only available through apothecaries in France in the 16th century.


Nostradamus' book, Traité des fardemens et confitures, was published in 1555 -- although the prologue was dated 1552. It was revised and reprinted about once a year for a number of years. 


Now, it turns out that someone else has already translated the book into English and published it in 1996. You can find it on Amazon, The Elixirs of Nostradamus: Nostradamus' Original Recipes for Elixirs, Scented Water, Beauty Potions, and Sweetmeats, by Knut Boeser.

Here is a version that a friend translated a number of years ago ...

Nostradamus - Quince Jelly Recipe

To make a jelly of quinces, of great beauty, bounty, flavour, and excellence, suitable for presentation to royalty, and which can be preserved for a long time.

Take as many quinces as you like, as long as they are well ripened and yellow. Cut them into quarters without peeling. (Some peel them, but the peel improves the fragrance.) Cut each quince into five or six pieces and remove the seeds, for it will set well without them. After cutting them, put them in a basin full of water for, once they have been chopped or cut, they will soon turn black if they are not placed in water.

Once they have been chopped, set them in a large quantity of water, and heat until the water is almost bubbling.

When they are well cooked, spoon out the contents of the pot into a thick, new cloth, & squeeze out as much of the liquid as possible. [In other words, strain out the solid bits, leaving as much of the liquid as possible. ed.]

Take this liquid and, if there are six pounds of liquid, take one and a half pounds of Madeira sugar and add it into the mixture. Then let it boil on coals at medium heat until you see that it reduces significantly.

Put it by a small fire, but take care that it doesn't burn the sides, which would give a bad colour to the jelly.

To test whether the jelly is done, take a spatula, or a spoon, and put a dab of the jelly on a flat surface. When it has cooled, if the drop stays rounded, then it is done. Take it from the fire, and wait until the scum forms over the top. While is still quite warm, put it in containers of wood or glass. If you wish to write something on the box, you can do so.

The colour [of the jelly] will be so diaphanous that it will resemble an oriental ruby, will have such excellent colour, and even better flavour, that it can be given to the sick & will make them better.

Source: Traité des fardemens et confitures

Eclipses and Earthquakes

Last weekend , there was a Ring of Fire (annular eclipse) across Western and Central Canada and the south-western United States.  I was talking to people about it on Yahoo that day when I saw the following post:

* * *

You won't need to see the eclipse. just listen to the new [sic] for the next 48 hours.

There will be earthquakes and mega damages all around the world ... Cayce and Nostradamus have predicted this as well as the Mayans and other past civilizations [sic] for May 20-21, 2012. Prelude to the next 7 months and final Dec 21, 2012.

My reply (which had a number of people up in arms, as well as some supporters):

And just how would the next few days or months differ from the past 50 years (since those are the ones I remember)? These natural disasters go on all the time. But as soon as someone says that it was predicted, everyone starts paying attention for a change and they *think* it's true because they are actually watching the news. It's actually just a self-fulfilling prophecy.

* * *

Well, there were no earthquakes after the eclipse. There was one in Italy, but it was about 24 hours before, so I don’t think we can count it. Not only that, but it was in the interior and also in an area that rarely gets quakes.

Then I recalled hearing that eclipses can affect the tides and make them stronger, thereby triggering earthquakes. Well, never having lived near a body of water that had tides, I didn’t know very much about them ... only what I can recall from holidays to the seaside.

So, I started looking up information.

An earthquake is being predicted for Japan  this coming July. Different sites are claiming that it is being caused by a) the annular eclipse that we just had, and b) a lunar eclipse coming up on June 4^th. To me, they seem to be a trifle distant in time to be causing earthquakes.

But, hey, what do I know? So I went back to the recent tsunami disasters. (Well, recent to me.)

I started with the tsunami that hit Japan on March 11^th of last year. There was an eclipse on December 21, 2010 – over northern Canada. That’s two-and-a-half months before the tsunami hit.

Then I went back to Boxing Day, 2004, when about 350,000 people died in 14 countries around the Indian Ocean. There was an eclipse over two months before – but it crossed from Russia, across the Pacific to North America -- nowhere near the affected area.

Not convinced, I looked at the Haiti earthquake of January 12, 2010 – partly because I was personally acquainted with someone who died there. There was a partial lunar eclipse on December 31, 2009 – over northern Africa and across Asia. Am I being entirely too sceptical, thinking that it happened on the other side of the world? There was also an annular eclipse on January 15^th, 2010 – across Africa, Sri Lanka and central China.

Then I started looking up eclipses in general.

1)       There have been 26 lunar eclipses since the beginning of 2001. June 4, 2012 will be number 29. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_lunar_eclipses

2)       There have also been 25 solar eclipses since the beginning of 2001. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lists_of_solar_eclipses

That makes for a total of 51 so far this century. I haven’t been able to tie most of them to earthquakes or tsunamis at all. If there was a tie-in, I would have expected 51 disasters withing a few days of an eclipse. Not that I want disasters to happen. Far from it.

A huge amount of information is out there and it would take me weeks – if not months – to sift through it all. I found a number of blogs that claim that there is a correlation between eclipses and earthquakes, but no scientific sites.

Until I find such information from a reliable source, I will continue to be a doubting Thomasina, and assume that disasters of this nature happen when and where they happen. I will continue donating to the disaster relief funds, according to my means, and stay out of the way.

Signed, A Sceptic.

Uniquely Canadian Holiday

Victoria Day has a variety of names. May 24^th weekend. May two-four. The two-four weekend – as if it had been named for the number of beer bottles in the case.

My first trip to Europe was in May 1982 – the year of the Falklands War. I had booked my coach tour of the United Kingdom in January. The war started in April. Of course I didn’t have travel insurance. I couldn’t afford it.

Not that I would have cancelled anyway. I was finally going to see some of the places – and some of the things – I had studied in school. I had saved for a long time. Well, it seemed like a long time to me at the age of 25. Nothing was going to prevent me from going to Europe.

I arrived in London in mid-May and took off to see the country. May 24 was a Monday that year and, that day, I passed by a bank. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and the doors were propped open. I peered inside and it looked just like one of the sets from Mary Poppins. Feeling a trifle bemused, I wandered in. No customers were in line and the pleasant teller asked if she could help me.

“You’re open,” I said, gazing around at the most beautiful bank I’d ever seen.

“Yes,” she replied, appearing a trifle puzzled but smiling.

“But it’s Queen Victoria’s birthday!” I blurted.

“Is it really?” she asked. Another teller joined her, also smiling.

I closed my eyes when the realisation struck me. How stupid could I be? Of course Britons wouldn’t celebrate the birthdays of dead monarchs. They would end up with over 40 holidays a year – and that’s just since 1066! That’s when I realised why Canada celebrates Victoria Day. Queen Victoria was the monarch on the throne during all the years of negotiations leading up to when we actually became a country.

The differences between, say, Canada and the United States? I was already accustomed to those. I lived an hour’s drive from a bridge to the U.S., after all. They made sense to me. But I guess that, being part of the Commonwealth, it hadn’t occurred to me that Victoria Day wasn’t celebrated in other areas. Duh!

Just call me a stupid colonial. (I’m smarter now.)

It's Mother's Day

My mother died over 25 years ago, after two and a half years of battling cancer. She had been due to retire later that month.

I could write about how we rarely saw eye-to-eye, or how we fought on a regular basis, because that is what I remember most about her. Instead, I have recently come to realise how much of a pioneer my mother was. Indeed, all of the women on my mother’s side of the family were strong women who worked hard all their lives.

Let’s start with my maternal grandmother. Grandma Campbell was a teacher. Many people would consider this a suitably feminine role to play in the late 1910’s. In fact, it was a job that was later known as ‘pink collar’ work – women’s work outside the home. What was unusual about Grandma? At a time when female teachers were fired by school boards as soon as they were wed, she was one of the first women in Ontario to teach after she was married.

In the late 1930’s, my grandfather who was a veteran of WWI, had been offered the job of Post Master in eastern Ontario. My grandparents sold their farm on highway 43, and moved into the village of Avonmore. In 1952, my grandfather died and my grandmother was offered the position. Again, it was unusual for women to hold that job – but not unheard of. There were sacks of mail to be hauled around and dealt with. My grandmother would have been 53 at the time and, according to her, had very little trouble lugging the mail. The only time she had difficulty was each December, with the Christmas rush.

Meanwhile, my mother had also become a teacher in the late 1940’s. She married in 1952. Fortunately for her, teachers were allowed to stay on at their jobs after they were married. It was almost expected by this point.

I was born in early May in the mid-50’s. During these years there was no such thing as maternity leave -- and very little sick leave. It was also the time when Grade 8 students had to write entrance exams at the end of June in order to be allowed into high school. My mother was concerned about her students (in a one room school) and the reviews she wanted to cover with them before the exams. At the beginning of June, she was back at school – taking me with her. I’m told she put a blanket on the floor and set me on it – as farm wives had done for centuries to keep an eye on their infants while going about their kitchen chores.

So, at the tender age of one month, I went to school. I’m not sure how much I could possibly have absorbed, but I was later considered one of the ‘bright brats’, as we were sometimes termed, and put into an accelerated program. But I’m no pioneer, so enough of me ...

In 1962, we moved to Ottawa. My father had been working for TCA (Trans Canada Airlines), the precursor of Air Canada, and was commuting an hour each way. My mother got a job in the Nepean Township School Board. In the interview, she was promised a salary of $4,000 per year. When she arrived to teach there, having given up her previous job in Long Sault, she was informed that she would be earning $3,600 per year instead.

Later that year, my grandmother called us and said she was lonely and could she come and live with us? I was ecstatic because I missed Grandma terribly. That was when she gave up her job as Post Mistress, at the age of 63, and moved to Ottawa. She started supply teaching with the Ottawa Public School Board in order to augment her pension.

I remember playing with other kids my age in our neighbourhood and hearing their mothers make pitying remarks to me about the fact that my mother worked. I couldn’t understand why the comments were being made. Everyone worked, didn’t they? I also couldn’t understand what these women did all day. As far as I could see, they met for coffee, went shopping, and watched the soaps. They certainly didn’t do arithmetic flash cards with their kids, as my parents did with me, and then had the temerity to wonder out loud why I was doing so well in school.

In the mid-1960’s, my mother realised that it wouldn’t be long before all teachers in Ontario would be required to have a university degree – and that no one would be exempt. So, a couple of years before the ruling came down that they had to start taking courses, she signed up for a university course during the summer. My grandmother was given the job of keeping me quiet and, preferably, out of the house.

I realise now how scared my mother must have been. She had been out of school for over 15 years at that point and the prospect of studying and developing good study habits must have been terrifying – especially when you consider that her continued employment hinged on getting grades good enough to graduate.


By the mid-1970's my mother had her BA and her Master's degree in Education. She was qualified to teach every option available from Kindergarten through to grade 8 -- including woodwork and metalwork. Her favourite position, though, was a the school librarian.

Flash forward to my first job and filing my first income tax.

Mom helped me understand how to read government forms – and how to call and ask for clarification if I was puzzled by what was written. She could have done it for me – after all, she did the books for my father’s business which he had started in the early 1970’s – but she wanted me to learn to do it myself. After a couple of years, she and I would sit down together and, starting with the same information, see who could do it the fastest. Then we would compare results. If we got the same number, I copied it out in good and my taxes were done – usually in under an hour.

It was also in the 1970’s that I realised that farming doesn’t pay the bills – at least, dairy farming in eastern Ontario didn’t pay enough to live on. This was one reason why all my female cousins worked outside the home – aside from wanting to prevent a stagnation of the brain.

I hadn’t realised until, a few years ago, that these women in my family were the grassroots of the Feminist Movement of the 1960’s and 1970’s. I’m proud to be related to them.

I'm concerned

Last August, my doctor had me go for an ultrasound because, given my age and weight, she wanted to check for a fatty liver. There appeared to be a cyst attached to one of the kidneys, so she arranged for some more tests (a CT scan and an MRI) packed me off to an appointment with a urologist. Those tests showed that it was not on the kidney, but attached to the outside of the adrenal gland.

I was packed off to a surgeon. This surgeon (I saw him just before Christmas) had me do some tests. To prepare for the test, I had to give up caffeine (including chocolate, of course), pain killers (including my arthritis medicine), and fruit -- for three days! Strangely enough, it was the fruit that was the most difficult for me. When I get up in the morning, I immediately have a glass of juice. Breakfast is usually an apple. My favourite bagels have raisins in them. You are probably seeing a pattern here. If I could live on fruit, I would. After two failed attempts, I finally managed the test.

When the results of that test came in, I was informed that I would have an appointment with an endocrinologist.  Turns out, it's not a cyst. It's a tumour. I have a condition called pheochromocytoma. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001380/

Tumours of this type are fairly rare and almost never outside the gland. Mine is. They are rarely malignant. Given that I'm bucking the odds on this, I'm a little scared right now. I'm the same age my mother was when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I know that ovarian cancer is not hereditary, but the parallels have me spooked.

Anyway, among other questions, the doctor asked if I had experienced high blood pressure recently. I told him yes. He put the cuff on me and checked. Normal reading. I had to explain to him that it's only in the last few years that I could get up without feeling dizzy. I've always had a problem with low blood pressure. High is a relative term. Then he asked if I'd had hand tremors or a racing pulse. I replied yes, but only when reading a letter from my ex's lawyer. He ducked his head to hide the smile, but I could see his shoulders shaking. Maybe, at our next appointment, he'll realise that I am using humour to cope with the stress.

One of the problems with removing this tumour is that, when it is removed from the adrenal gland, the gland sometimes goes into overdrive. This can boost the blood pressure off the charts. So, on top of having it removed, I will probably be in the hospital for a few days. I'm so glad I live in Canada.

To be absolutely certain that he knows as much as possible before arranging for the surgery, I have to do the  same tests again to verify the results from the first test. Bummer. I'll have to prepare for it over the weekend and do it on Monday because my birthday is next Thursday. I'm having meals with several friends towards the end of the week and don't want to limit what I can eat.

The good news is ... my liver is just fine.

National Job Fair

The National Job Fair, in Toronto, wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

After I got the insert from The Sunday Sun, I found the list of companies that would be attending, along with the floor plan. I put a tick mark next to the names of all the companies I was interested in -- including the ones I'd never heard of.

Then, I spent the better part of Monday googling them. I whittled the initial list of 43 companies down to 8. This included 5 high tech companies and 3 placement agencies.

I spent the whole of the next day updating my résumé, printing out enough copies, and developing a covering flyer. Yes, a covering flyer -- not a covering letter. I would write a covering letter if I were applying for a specific job but, with this situation, I thought I needed something more generic. After all, I wasn't even sure that they needed technical writers or editors. I ended up with:

*

Hi,

I am a writer and editor with over twenty years’ experience, including:

· computer manuals (especially for novice users)

· software changes

· telecommunications

· user manuals for manufacturing equipment

· ISO 9000 documents

· newsletters

· publicity

My specialty is helping small to medium sized companies with documentation problems. I work at your site or mine, for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months – depending on the project.

I’ve attached my résumé so, even if you don’t need a writer or editor now, you’ll have it if you need one in the future. Should that day come, I hope you’ll think of me.

*

Wednesday morning was cool, windy, and sunny. I parked my car at the TTC lot and took the subway downtown to Union Station on Front Street. I decided to take the indoor route because of the wind tunnel effect of all the office towers. What a mistake! I think I walked to Mississauga and back by the time I found the right place. Fortunately, I had worn comfortable shoes.

When I finally got into the right building, I had a view of the show from the level above. It was a seething mass of humanity, and I nearly turned around and went home right then. I hate crowds. I truly do. But having spent almost 3 days getting ready, plus the gas to drive in to Toronto, I thought I'd better give it a try.

I was daunted by the line up just to pay to get in to the show, but it moved fairly quickly. At $4.95, the advertised cost of entry to the show included tax -- a pleasant change. Inside the Job Fair itself, it didn't seem so bad. People bumped, of course, but everyone was very polite and civilised.

I went to all eight booths, and talked to people at each one. A couple of them have no need for technical writers or editors, which was fine. I just kept going.

In less than an hour, I was done.

The covering flyer had worked, too. I had two companies show an interest in me -- one of them quite keen on the fact that I had worked with the ISO 9000 standard.

Now to see if this effort translates into a job offer.

I bought a copy of the Toronto Sun

Normally, I don't read The Toronto Sun. In fact, I can't stand its fascist diatribes. But I don't mind other people reading The Sun at work. In fact, I think it's rather amusing that the guys I work with seem to think I'm bothered by something as tame as the Sunshine Girl.

But when I was working on Saturday night / Sunday morning, I ended up with nothing to read ... except The Sun from the previous Wednesday. I flipped through it quickly, trying not to let my fingers touch too much of it, only to discover that the National Job Fair will be held in Toronto this Wednesday and Thursday. The advertisement also mentioned that there would be a 20 page insert about the Fair in the Sunday Sun.

Oh, great. Just great. I hadn't seen any advertisements about the Job Fair in either the Globe and Mail or the Toronto Star. Now, in all fairness, I didn't read both papers every day last week, so I might have missed something. But neither paper mentioned it in the Saturday editions, either, that I saw.

So, I went into the convenience store Sunday morning on my way home from work. I approached the newspaper rack and, automatically, my hand reached out for the Globe and Mail ... but the Globe doesn't publish on Sundays and I'd already read the Saturday edition! My stomach churned with embarrassment as I reached down for a copy of The Toronto Sun -- on which I had (years before) bestowed the cognomen The Toronto Stunned. I felt like I was betraying literate people everywhere.

I grabbed it and went to the cash ... better to get out of here quickly before someone I knew saw me with this rag in my hand. Why, oh why didn't I think to go out of town to buy this?

Gritting my teeth, I got to the cash.

"Pearl," piped up the cashier, accepting my money, "why aren't you getting the Star or the Globe?" (Just my luck that I get the one clerk who knows my buying habits.) Then I flipped through the pages, grabbed the insert about the Job Fair, and asked the cashier to throw the rest in the garbage.

The paper had, finally, been marginally useful.

Last course

I've finally signed up for my last course at UofT. Well, the last one for my Certificate in Creative Writing. There will be others if I can afford them.

The thing is, I've tweaked the first hundred pages so much, that I'm not sure what it says anymore! I need to settle down and review those pages one more time before sending them off to my faculty advisor.

Story

I am currently working through comments on my novel from my proofreader. There are a number of things to be dealt with.

And I thought I was doing so well!

It's allergy season

Yes, it's allergy season for me. As a result, I'm struggling to stay awake for more than 12 hours a day ... and struggling, during those few hours, to think coherently. It also seems to affect my ability to spell. While I was typing out the last sentence, I spelled 'during' as 'juring'. Hey, that's how it's pronounced, right? Then I stared at it. I knew it was wrong, but couldn't think of the correct spelling for a minute.

Sure, I could use the online spellchecker, but I think you'll agree with me that it has -- at best -- a limited vocabulary. The online spellchecker doesn't correct words that are words, but not the word that's wanted for that particular space, grammatically speaking (or, in this case, writing). No, my beef with spellcheckers lies in the fact that they inform me that I should be using some other word -- completely unsuited to the context -- because it does not recognise the word I've chosen.

Anyway, I'm off to sleep some more so that -- with luck -- I'll stay awake at work later.

I thought I was the last ...

For those of you who have never heard of him, Rick Mercer is a Canadian comedian and pundit with a television show. He has a quintessentially Canadian view of politics (if we don't laugh about it, we'll cry). But more than that, he interviews people from all over Canada about all sorts of things, from their interesting jobs, to their unusual celebrations or hobbies, to the teams taking part in various sports. His website, with selected pieces archived from his show, is here:

http://rickmercer.com/

I just found this skit about the last person to start a blog in North America:

http://www.youtube.com/mercerreport#p/c/20D68A4847393FEF/24/5p7K0LvK_fk

(Darn - I thought I was the last!)