Marlowe is okay... sort of. After two and a half weeks of stressing and several expensive trips to the vet, we've leaned that Marlowe has slipped two discs in her back. This means that she won't be able to run, jump, or climb stairs for a few months, but she doesn't need surgery or a trip to the specialist in PEI. Thanks Nones, but we won't need to ask your clients for... er, business tips after all!
We still don't know what Marlowe did to hurt herself, and the cats are suspiciously silent on the subject...
Marlowe requests that get-well-soon cards be made of meat or grapes.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Taking Responsibility is for Suckers.
Trent and I have a saying. We reserve it for moments in which we don't want to take responsibility for something (tracking mud into the porch, leaving a cup in the TV room, forgetting to do something we'd promised to do, ...).
"Dog did it."
Now, this saying is pretty practical--after all, we do have a dog, and she has done a lot of things that we wish she hadn't. I'm thinking of the time she chewed all the pillows in the living room, or when she chewed Heidi's new shoe, or the time she chewed the vacuum cleaner cord... yes, there's a theme here. But, as an excuse, it also has its drawbacks. For instance, Marlowe is less than a foot tall, has no opposable thumbs, and doesn't leave the house or yard, except when we take her for walks or to the Emergency Vet Clinic (boy does she know that place well these days). So, for instance, forgetting to pick something up at the grocery store or not getting around to doing the dishes sometimes warrants a raised eyebrow when one of us tries to blame it on the dog.
However, during my last Study Break this afternoon, I was tooling around the Internets (still not a truck, people) and I came across some crazy guy's ("Uh, yeah, hello, Kettle? Hey, this is The Pot. Listen, there's something I gotta tell you...") Blog, where he announced the "Hot Excuse for 2007:"
"Wizards did it."
Oh my GOD! Imagine the possibilities! Accidentally hit "send" on the pretend death threat email to your ex-boss? Not your fault. Wizards did it. Late with your nephew's birthday present again? No, you weren't--wizards again. Messed around on Blogs so much that you gave up reading and failed your PhD qualifying exams? Nope--wizards did it.
My mind=blown.
"Dog did it."
Now, this saying is pretty practical--after all, we do have a dog, and she has done a lot of things that we wish she hadn't. I'm thinking of the time she chewed all the pillows in the living room, or when she chewed Heidi's new shoe, or the time she chewed the vacuum cleaner cord... yes, there's a theme here. But, as an excuse, it also has its drawbacks. For instance, Marlowe is less than a foot tall, has no opposable thumbs, and doesn't leave the house or yard, except when we take her for walks or to the Emergency Vet Clinic (boy does she know that place well these days). So, for instance, forgetting to pick something up at the grocery store or not getting around to doing the dishes sometimes warrants a raised eyebrow when one of us tries to blame it on the dog.
However, during my last Study Break this afternoon, I was tooling around the Internets (still not a truck, people) and I came across some crazy guy's ("Uh, yeah, hello, Kettle? Hey, this is The Pot. Listen, there's something I gotta tell you...") Blog, where he announced the "Hot Excuse for 2007:"
"Wizards did it."
Oh my GOD! Imagine the possibilities! Accidentally hit "send" on the pretend death threat email to your ex-boss? Not your fault. Wizards did it. Late with your nephew's birthday present again? No, you weren't--wizards again. Messed around on Blogs so much that you gave up reading and failed your PhD qualifying exams? Nope--wizards did it.
My mind=blown.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Reading reading reading reading reading...
...reading, reading, reading, reading...
reading.
reading.
reading.
I wish I were a robot so I could just download Canadian Literature.
Hey! How about I send each of you a book, you read it, write a book report, then send it back to me! Why didn't I think of this before?
reading.
reading.
reading.
I wish I were a robot so I could just download Canadian Literature.
Hey! How about I send each of you a book, you read it, write a book report, then send it back to me! Why didn't I think of this before?
Monday, January 08, 2007
The Debate Goes Public
On New Year's Day, I tried to rope you all in to my latest obsession: Battlestar Galactica. Roz, however, expressed her disappointment in my taste, citing her dispproval of television's abundance of beautiful people (does this disapproval apply to Annakin Skywalker, Padme, Aragorn, Eowyn or Arwen, Roz?). She cited a statistic that I'd heard somewhere before:
On average, pretty people earn 12% more than the rest of us. Although this artice states that it's more of a disadvantage to be ugly, rather than an advantage to be pretty.
Meh. Stereotype directionality and attractiveness stereotyping: Is beauty good or is ugly bad? Griffin AM, Langlois JH SOCIAL COGNITION 24 (2): 187-206 APR 2006
To my own great surprise, I find myself siding with the Beautiful People on this one. (What, the anti-Barbie crusader?!) So here are my thoughts on the subject:
Um... Roz? I hate to tell you this (and I'm not just being flattering, I'm being honest), but you hardly qualify as "ugly people." And frankly, if I had to place myself on one side of the line or the other, I'd have to put myself (and you, and Toni, by the way) on the Pretty People side. Maybe it's just because I'm reading Atwood's Survival for my comps right now, but what is it with the impulse to cast ourselves in victim roles? In general, it's an impulse that kind of makes me angry, perhaps because I've been on the ugly end of the victim complex. Twice.
The first time was when a woman from Pakistan (just learning English) didn't understand what I was asking her when I asked for her squid recipe--I was a cashier at IGA. She complained to the store manager that I had made racist remarks about her ethnic food, and I had to apologize or be fired. The second time was when an LGBTQ activist told the Gateway newspaper that I was a homophobe. After I had tried to help him register his organization in order to get campus funding. Don't get me wrong--I'm not trying to tell you that racism, homophobia and unfair advantages for the physically attractive don't exist. I just think that sometimes, our own insecurities make us unduly sensitive.
And yes, there are some pretty people in some of the TV shows that I like to watch, but with the Battlestar Galactica exception of Tricia Helfer, I don't think they're any prettier than the slightly-above-average people I see on a daily basis--by which I mean that I don't think they represent an unhealthy or impossible or unattainable standard of beauty. (I'm as appalled by those scary sticks on the O.C. as much as anyone!) Katee Sackhoff (Starbuck), for instance, has short legs and a bit of a love-handle to her. Edward James Olmos has major skin issues. And the woman who plays the President is an attractive, but very age-appropriate (i.e. NOT plastic-surgeried) 60-ish woman. Frankly, I like looking at a beautiful woman (or man) who doesn't diet to freakdom or undergo unhealthy medical procedures in order to try and be more beautiful. I'd also rather stare out at a great ocean view than, say, at a row of Siding Wonders in east-end Edmonton.
Yes, the people we see on TV are, on the average, more attractive than the people we see in daily life--partly because they have the on-screen advantage of professional stylists, wardrobers, etc. But guess what? The people we see on a university campus are smarter than average. The people we see on professional sports teams are more physically-fit than average.
While I was doing the Play I No Longer Name last fall, I worked with two absolutely beautiful women. Hollywood-pretty. I'm not saying that neither of these women has had a leg up for her looks, so to speak, but I do have to tell you that neither of them are what I would call successful. In fact, I've learned over the past few months that one of them--the more attractive of the two--is so insecure that she makes up bizarre success stories about herself and passes them off as truth.
Not everybody is the same, and certain professions and situations favour certain advantages. We only say it's not fair when those advantages aren't our particular own. How would you feel if, say, you wanted to be a chemist or an engineer, but you had an IQ of 90 or so? Does anybody have stats on IQs, educational levels and lifetime earnings?
I'm not saying, I'm just saying... so what do the rest of you say?
On average, pretty people earn 12% more than the rest of us. Although this artice states that it's more of a disadvantage to be ugly, rather than an advantage to be pretty.
Meh. Stereotype directionality and attractiveness stereotyping: Is beauty good or is ugly bad? Griffin AM, Langlois JH SOCIAL COGNITION 24 (2): 187-206 APR 2006
To my own great surprise, I find myself siding with the Beautiful People on this one. (What, the anti-Barbie crusader?!) So here are my thoughts on the subject:
Um... Roz? I hate to tell you this (and I'm not just being flattering, I'm being honest), but you hardly qualify as "ugly people." And frankly, if I had to place myself on one side of the line or the other, I'd have to put myself (and you, and Toni, by the way) on the Pretty People side. Maybe it's just because I'm reading Atwood's Survival for my comps right now, but what is it with the impulse to cast ourselves in victim roles? In general, it's an impulse that kind of makes me angry, perhaps because I've been on the ugly end of the victim complex. Twice.
The first time was when a woman from Pakistan (just learning English) didn't understand what I was asking her when I asked for her squid recipe--I was a cashier at IGA. She complained to the store manager that I had made racist remarks about her ethnic food, and I had to apologize or be fired. The second time was when an LGBTQ activist told the Gateway newspaper that I was a homophobe. After I had tried to help him register his organization in order to get campus funding. Don't get me wrong--I'm not trying to tell you that racism, homophobia and unfair advantages for the physically attractive don't exist. I just think that sometimes, our own insecurities make us unduly sensitive.
And yes, there are some pretty people in some of the TV shows that I like to watch, but with the Battlestar Galactica exception of Tricia Helfer, I don't think they're any prettier than the slightly-above-average people I see on a daily basis--by which I mean that I don't think they represent an unhealthy or impossible or unattainable standard of beauty. (I'm as appalled by those scary sticks on the O.C. as much as anyone!) Katee Sackhoff (Starbuck), for instance, has short legs and a bit of a love-handle to her. Edward James Olmos has major skin issues. And the woman who plays the President is an attractive, but very age-appropriate (i.e. NOT plastic-surgeried) 60-ish woman. Frankly, I like looking at a beautiful woman (or man) who doesn't diet to freakdom or undergo unhealthy medical procedures in order to try and be more beautiful. I'd also rather stare out at a great ocean view than, say, at a row of Siding Wonders in east-end Edmonton.
Yes, the people we see on TV are, on the average, more attractive than the people we see in daily life--partly because they have the on-screen advantage of professional stylists, wardrobers, etc. But guess what? The people we see on a university campus are smarter than average. The people we see on professional sports teams are more physically-fit than average.
While I was doing the Play I No Longer Name last fall, I worked with two absolutely beautiful women. Hollywood-pretty. I'm not saying that neither of these women has had a leg up for her looks, so to speak, but I do have to tell you that neither of them are what I would call successful. In fact, I've learned over the past few months that one of them--the more attractive of the two--is so insecure that she makes up bizarre success stories about herself and passes them off as truth.
Not everybody is the same, and certain professions and situations favour certain advantages. We only say it's not fair when those advantages aren't our particular own. How would you feel if, say, you wanted to be a chemist or an engineer, but you had an IQ of 90 or so? Does anybody have stats on IQs, educational levels and lifetime earnings?
I'm not saying, I'm just saying... so what do the rest of you say?
Yesterday, our next-door neighbour died. I didn't know her--she's been seriously ill ever since we moved in, and I only met her once and very briefly. Her kids (15 and 11, I think) pet-sit for us whenever we go out of town, though, and Trent and I have started to get to know her husband. So it was strange and sad news to get.
On Saturday night, we had to rush Marlowe to the vet again. It seems she's injured her back, and so it's likely not serious, but at the time, I was sure something awful was wrong, and that we would have to put her to sleep. Until Danny, our across-the-street neighbour, came over Sunday afternoon to tell us the sad news, I felt that our veterenary bills and Marlowe's health were an absolute crisis. And frankly, my worry about a little dog has affected me more than the death of a woman who lived next door to me. I know that you might feel that this isn't something I should admit, or that I lack compassion, but it has me thinking about the spheres of our own lives, and the events that shake us.
I have a strange worry. I worry that something will happen to Trent and me--a car accident, or the onset of a disease that kills us both suddenly, and that, not only will we die, but our pets will starve, because no one will know to come and take care of them. It's okay--you can laugh at me. I know it's a very silly worry. In Edmonton, we knew without even thinking about it that if we didn't leave the house for three days, or if we stopped showing up for work, or didn't return phone calls that Greg and Nadine or Myrna or Phil or Paul or Toni and Brad or someone would know to check in on us. But here in Halifax, we're still relatively rootless. Please don't think I'm being self-pitying here. I'm just reflecting on the nature of personal relationships--how they're formed, and how they can root you within a certain community.
I had a really rough time in November. I was depressed and lonely and stressed out, but last month, when it came time to explain to Toni how miserable I had felt the month before, it sounded weak to my own ears--partly because I didn't feel that way any more, and partly also because I couldn't point to an event, a catastrophic happening that could account for how unhappy I had been. Cause and effect.
My next-door neighbour died yesterday. And, even though they were expecting it, I know that her husband and her two sons feel crushed and surprised, but I would be ashamed to try and express what their sorrow might be, and not only because I don't know them all that well.
On Saturday night, we had to rush Marlowe to the vet again. It seems she's injured her back, and so it's likely not serious, but at the time, I was sure something awful was wrong, and that we would have to put her to sleep. Until Danny, our across-the-street neighbour, came over Sunday afternoon to tell us the sad news, I felt that our veterenary bills and Marlowe's health were an absolute crisis. And frankly, my worry about a little dog has affected me more than the death of a woman who lived next door to me. I know that you might feel that this isn't something I should admit, or that I lack compassion, but it has me thinking about the spheres of our own lives, and the events that shake us.
I have a strange worry. I worry that something will happen to Trent and me--a car accident, or the onset of a disease that kills us both suddenly, and that, not only will we die, but our pets will starve, because no one will know to come and take care of them. It's okay--you can laugh at me. I know it's a very silly worry. In Edmonton, we knew without even thinking about it that if we didn't leave the house for three days, or if we stopped showing up for work, or didn't return phone calls that Greg and Nadine or Myrna or Phil or Paul or Toni and Brad or someone would know to check in on us. But here in Halifax, we're still relatively rootless. Please don't think I'm being self-pitying here. I'm just reflecting on the nature of personal relationships--how they're formed, and how they can root you within a certain community.
I had a really rough time in November. I was depressed and lonely and stressed out, but last month, when it came time to explain to Toni how miserable I had felt the month before, it sounded weak to my own ears--partly because I didn't feel that way any more, and partly also because I couldn't point to an event, a catastrophic happening that could account for how unhappy I had been. Cause and effect.
My next-door neighbour died yesterday. And, even though they were expecting it, I know that her husband and her two sons feel crushed and surprised, but I would be ashamed to try and express what their sorrow might be, and not only because I don't know them all that well.
Monday, January 01, 2007
7 Things to Do in '07
Happy New Year! 2006 was a hella one, wasn't it? It's hard to believe that so much happened in 365 little days. As my New Year's gift to you all, here is my suggestion for 7 ways to make '07 more fun:
7. Rent Brick. The Good German is posing as the return of film noir, but it's amazing what a perfect fit film noir is with tormented adolescence. You'll recognize the movie's star from 3rd Rock From the Sun.
6. Get your own Blog and stop bugging me to update mine! (I'm kidding. I LOVE that you guys like to read my Blog so much. But I'm not kidding about getting your own. Seriously. Who doesn't want to see the Adventures Soholt or Paul Rocks Lethbridge or Phil & Nancy's Mad Geek Blog?)
5. Go rent the miniseries/pilot for the new version of Battlestar Galactica (it's avaible as "Season 1, Disc 1"). I know, I know. I was skeptical too--in fact, Phil and I used to call Corona LRT station "Battlestar Galactica" because of those awful, 70s-sci-fi-esque lights. Nancy made me watch an episode. And now Trent and I have been obsessively watching every episode available on DVD. Honestly, it's the only thing that's relieved some of the sting left by the end of Buffy. And it almost matches Buffy for witty repartee. My favourite, so far: "No more Mister Nice Gaius!" --Dr. Gaius Baltar.
4. When Outlander comes out, get together a big group of people and go see it together. Cheer madly every time Trent the Viking appears onscreen. Your fellow moviegoers will love you for it.
3. Sign up as an extra in a movie or TV episode. Get in touch with one of these guys to find out how.
2. Go and do something lame and touristy in your home city. Spend a night at the overpriced hotel in Fort Edmonton. Ride the roller coaster in West Ed. See the critters in the zoo. I don't know--something.
1. Book your visit to Halifax!
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