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!)

Polite Cat

The strangest thing about reading my novel aloud is, Alexander the Great (my cat) hears me talking, walks into the room and sees that I'm alone, and starts talking to me. He seems to be under the impression that I'm talking to him.

Well, there's no one else there, right?

Alex waits for me to pause -- usually when I'm marking up the manuscript -- and then starts meowing. He doesn't interrupt at all. Such a polite cat.

The oddest thing about this is, he doesn't do it when I'm on the phone.

The End of an Era - Death of A. Trevor Hodge

A. Trevor Hodge was a renowned scholar, a brilliant teacher, and a fun person. His classes were full to overflowing and, sometimes, they were students who weren't even registered. They just wanted to hear what he had to say.

When I was in my third year at Carleton, I managed to get into his class on Ancient Science and Technology. There were 108 people in the course, because it was a popular with engineering and science students as their arts elective. Of that number, there were four of us who were Classical Civilisation majors.

It was a full year course and we had the option of doing two essays or an essay and a hands-on project demonstrating the technology of the ancient Mediterranean world. It was an evening course and, as I entered the theatre, I could tell where most of the students had had dinner -- The Pub. The place reeked of beer.

A couple of weeks in, Professor Hodge was demonstrating a replica of an early drill. He had a piece of scrap wood and was demonstrating how the drill worked on the floor of the theatre, which was concrete. 108 students couldn't all see, so he moved it up to the (wooden) desk. He got talking, and the drill kept drilling, and it was a rhythmic movement and before he realised it, Professor Hodge had drilled a hole into the desk!

The following week, one of the engineers showed up with a tube of plastic wood and filled the hole. Hodge thanked him, and we were off on another class -- how the Egyptians used screws in cases to irrigate fields with Nile water. I suppose we should have been grateful that no previous students had built that as a project.

Hodge had gone to Europe to measure aquaducts. (I'm not sure exactly when it was, but I heard this story in the mid-1980's.) Toward the end of his trip, his rental car was stolen along with his briefcase, which contained all his notes, that had been in the back seat. He had to recreate the entire thing from memory, and managed to do it.

Yet, when he arrived home from another trip, he walked right past his wife who was there to meet him at the airport. Apparently, he didn't recognise her -- which doesn't really surprise me, after all. She wasn't a Roman arch made of stone!

I remember reading a few years ago, among the Letters to the Editor of the Globe and Mail, a note that appeared a couple of days after one of Trevor's witty insights. It went something like this:

Dear Sir, Why do you insist on calling him A Trevor Hodge,

when he is clearly The Trevor Hodge?

*

Here is what Carleton University had to say about him:

http://www2.carleton.ca/chum/2012/dr-a-trevor-hodge-1930-2012

Addendum:

I just found out that he had a blog! http://www.trevorscolumn.com/?page_id=2

It turns out that, in his retirement, he had started giving lectures on cruise ships ... I can see him now, banging the drum to help keep the rowers in time.

He was also writing a mystery novel.
http://brendachapman.blogspot.com/2012/02/puttering-away-my-saturday.html

Living History vs Introversion

It has been over two years since I last attended a living history event.

I used to belong to two different groups: one that was inclusive (Mediaeval / Renaissance) and one that was more focused (Viking Age). When I moved to southern Ontario, I tried to continue my level of activity with them, but found that I wasn't enjoying it as much.

Then last year I realised that, for the first time in my life, I am happy. I don't spend my time on the road every weekend. I don't have to socialise with people I really don't care for -- in order to see the people I do like. And, best of all, it's quiet, low stress, peaceful ... well, you get the idea.

I have always had limited tolerance for noise, and bright lights, and too many people -- especially too many people. I used to come home from a stressful day at work and I would close the drapes and the door, and sit, cross legged in the middle of my bed. Sometimes, I would pet one of the cats. This was how I dealt with stress.

Yes, I am an introvert.

Now, introversion is not the same as shyness. That is, an introvert can be shy, but it doesn't necessarily follow. According to Myers Briggs, the difference between an introvert and an extravert is where they get their energy. Introverts get it from being alone or with one or two close friends. Extraverts get it from being surrounded by people.

As I'm growing older, I find myself getting more and more introverted. So, maybe it's time to get rid of all the clothes for different periods of history. I've been complaining about my lack of space anyway ...

Adverbs

One of the other tidbits I have learned in my courses at UofT, is to get rid of the adverbs. Why, I asked, would I want to remove a perfectly acceptable part of speech? After all, adverbs and I go 'way back. In fact, I think it was Grade 6 when we were introduced, and I started learning how to parse a sentence.

The reasoning is this: if you are using adverbs, your verbs may be weak. For example, I can say

Darrell walked confidently into the room

or I can say

David strutted into the room

or

Janet sashayed into the room.

The second two examples tell us as much about the person's state of mind, as they do about the style of walk.

As I was writing my novel in the fall, if I had an adverb, I would pause and try to think of a stronger verb. But there were times when the correct word just wasn't there for me. So, I used the weak verb with its modifier. After the rough draft was complete, I went through the document searching for 'ly' and replacing those phrases with stronger verbs. A few have been left in, mostly in dialogue, because people use adverbs in everyday communication. It's part of our normal speech patterns.

However, after reading sections BAM and AAM (before adverb removal and after adverb removal), I can say that the parts without adverbs are definitely stronger, and pack more punch. The adverbs seemed to point up how weak the verbs were ... or, maybe, I'm just noticing it now.

Novice Plumber

I don’t know what it is, but on sunny days I have this burning need to do chores around the house. Today was a gorgeously sunny day, a few degrees above zero (Celsius), and I was particularly busy.

First off, I should say that I have very little problem with philosophy or the theoretical side of physics. Plumbing, however, was completely beyond me until I moved to southern Ontario and had extremely hard water to deal with.

So, having been here for three and a half years, it shouldn’t surprise me that my showerhead jets were starting to clog up. So were the taps on the sinks in the bathroom and kitchen.

Mentally, I girded my loins and hauled out my Dad’s old adjustable spanner. The shower head came off quite easily, as did the nozzles on the taps. I filled up an old bowl with CLR and soaked them, then scraped, then soaked some more. It took the better part of the afternoon, but it was worth it to have done it myself. I know it’s not *real* plumbing, but it’s the level I’m at, and I’m proud that I did it.

Anyway, late this afternoon, I rinsed the pieces and put them back on, and they work – with no parts left over!