Category Archives: Uncategorised

A talented woman named Megan McShane made this short film.

I absolutely loved the ending.

A few years ago I challenged my readers and myself to find Beauty in Three Ordinary Things.

As this summer is winding down, I thought I’d return to this challenge. It’s been weird here in Toronto over the past two months as far as the weather is concerned. One week it feels like autumn, the next we’re boiling hot. We were lucky enough to have some gorgeous temperatures late last week, so that’s when I went out in search of beautiful things that most people who visit my city probably walk past without a second glance.

It was one of the most entertaining walks I’ve been on in a long time. I hope you enjoy my findings as much as I did discovering them.

Have you ever wondered what the tattered remains of old posters used to promote?

I like wondering about that when I see walls that look like this. There are constantly new political protests, concerts, English as a second language classes, poetry readings, lost dog posters, and incoherent rants popping up on community boards like this one.

After a while someone always takes down the old ones. Once you’ve lived here a while you can generally predict what types of notices you’ll find on these boards, but every once in a great while I’m pleasantly surprised by the wild creativity of other Torontonians.

Pigeons are everywhere in this city. Some people call them sky rats because they’ll eat just about anything and often carry parasites.

My husband spied this pigeon sitting peacefully on a second-story ledge. I spent several minutes watching the bird as it watched over our city. If not for the thick pane of glass between us, I could have reached out and touched it.

It amazes me to see how pigeons have adapted to such a urbanized environment. They not only survive in the city, they truly thrive here despite all of the dangers that surround them.

There’s something beautiful about that to me.

Somehow life always find a way.

My final entry is a funny one.

Sometimes when I’m walking down the street I like to make up stories about the people I pass.

For example, it’s interesting to think about what lead the same family to adopt a toy poodle and a Saint Bernard. Were the dogs best friends at the pound? Did half of the family want a dog they could carry while the other half was rooting for a dog that could carry them? Have they considered getting a Labrador Retriever next to even things out?

It’s not about judging other people. It’s about trying to figure out how their minds work.

Maybe that is why I found my third picture so amusing.

Did the owner’s love of elaborate basket decorations come before or after  their love of electric bikes? What do they store in the basket? If I happen to see it again this autumn, will the basket have leaves woven into it instead of flowers? Seasonal foliage makes sense, but it also seems like it would eventually damage the weave of the basket.

I probably spent 30% of my walk thinking about all of the possible answers to those questions. It truly fascinated me.

I’d love to see your photos, drawing, haiku, or other creative responses to ordinarily beautiful things in your neighbourhoods. Leave them in the comment section, or send me a link to them and I’ll add them to this post!

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, paintings, rants, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

The American Room. My family lived in all kinds of places while I was growing up: an apartment; a (fairly) modern, cookie-cutter, suburban house;  multiple old, drafty farmhouses; a trailer; and, my favourite, a century-old house that was actually just across the river from our town library. Only a couple of these homes had what this article describes as “American” rooms!

Vegetable-Free Living. This is one of the most interesting rants I’ve read in a long time, although I vehemently disagree with the author on one important point: a lot of people get flack for their diets. I know vegans and vegetarians who often have to answer ridiculous questions about why they eat the way they do. There has been more than one person in my past who thought my allergy to milk was something I chose to have. What can I say? People are weird sometimes.

Tiny Embroidered Animals via ChloeGiordano. Embroidery has always seemed like a terribly old-fashioned hobby to me. Until I found this link, I genuinely couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in it. Now I get it (and not just because they included a rabbit! 😉 )

Edible Chocolate LEGO Blocks. There are candy shops here in Toronto that sell non-chocolate versions of this. These candy LEGOs kind of taste like smarties (for my US readers) or rockets (for my Canadian readers), except that they’re not quite as chalky. If anyone ever tries the chocolate version, I’d love to know what it tastes like.

The Artist via ShelbyFineArt. I’ve often wished I could ask painters what their works mean to them. Every short story, painting, and sculpture is open to interpretation, of course, but there’s something special about knowing what those things represent to the people who dreamed them up. What I like the most about this post is how Shelby describes her thought processes and why she chooses the subjects she does.

From Tracing the Rainbow Through the Rain: How Does Your Mindfulness Smell? via AEJ1967:

I can really savour the moment, taking my time to taste and enjoy the melting, soothing flavours. But how often do I stop once I have unwrapped it to really absorb its smell? I’ve been slower to first notice and then learn to practice smell as a mindful practise. Yet, along with listening to music, this is probably the most evocative and vivid of my senses.

This week  I was blown away by My Real Children. The premise of the book is simple: an elderly woman who has dementia remembers who very different pasts for herself. She can’t figure out which one is real and which one is a figment of her imagination.

Some of the character development wasn’t as thorough as I would have liked to see, but I chalked that up to the narrator’s unreliable memory. I suspect that both of her spouses were much more well-rounded people than she made them out to be. In my mind, she’s choosing to only report the things about each of them that fit their particular timelines.

If you’ve read this book, I’d love to hear your theories about it. The ending will stick with me for a long time.

What have you been reading?

This is fantastic.

Jinxy Jenkins, Lucky Lou from Jinxy Jenkins, Lucky Lou on Vimeo.

I’m writing because I just can’t deal with my father anymore. He’s a 65-year-old super right-wing conservative who has basically turned into a total asshole intent on ruining our relationship and our planet with his politics.

This is the beginning of a letter to a columnist named Andrew that I came across today.

My post will make more sense if you read the entire thing, but here is a snippet of Andrew’s response for those of you who don’t like clicking links:

Love your dad because he’s your father, because he made you, because he thinks for himself, and most of all because he is a person. Have the strength to doubt and question what you believe as easily as you’re so quick to doubt his beliefs.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think this letter is about politics at all. It’s about belligerence.

Photo by Guyon Morée.

There are some people in this world who are always right. It doesn’t matter if the topic is religion, politics, a recent, controversial news story, or which side of the bread should be buttered.

They’re right. You’re wrong. The world is going to hell in a hand-basket. End of story.

Love isn’t the answer here. Don’t get me wrong – I completely agree with being merciful and kind under difficult circumstances. People who need love and acceptance the most are often the hardest ones to give them to.

There comes a time when you need to set healthy boundaries. The only person any one of us can control is ourselves. Caring about someone is not a synonym for believing that if you do or say the right thing they’ll make better choices.

Even Superman has had to deal with the fact that he can’t save everyone.

I can’t tell the letter writer what to do. It’s something he has to decide on his own based on everything he knows about his father, his family, and what has (and hasn’t) worked in the past. Every situation is unique, and he’ll find no judgement here from me.

But what I would say is this: love isn’t always about fuzzy emotions and bending over backwards. Sometimes it’s about making hard choices. You can love someone from a distance, or with less frequent visits, or with certain restrictions placed on the topics you will and won’t discuss with them.  There’s no reason why the rules can’t change next month or next year when you’re ready to try again.

I believe in having mercy for yourself and for other people. Life isn’t a zero-sum game.

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, short stories, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

The Envelope via iamwidowbabe. What amazed me the most about this link was how easy it was for me to slip into the perspective of this blogger even though I have no experience with this kind of grief.

Why I Don’t Follow You on Twitter via Jessica West. I agree 100%.

Hello, I Am a Bear. If you love Choose Your Own Adventure stories, don’t skip this link.

Your Five a Day Should Include Failure via thathappygal. Wow, this is tough advice to take. I don’t think anyone enjoys failure. It does make me want to take more risks with my writing and life though.

The League of Vile but Witty Literary Reviews. This is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time.

From Ten Days’ Grace:

Falling pregnant with Lily had been her first infraction against the Spousal Laws. Like homosexuality and abortion, single parenthood had been illegal ever since the National Family Party came to power nearly three decades ago. As soon as the cause of Julia’s sudden nausea was correctly diagnosed, she’d been brought before the Bureau and called to account for the genesis of her not–allowed–to–be–illegitimate offspring.

From The Abortion Ministry of Dr. Willie Parker:

But the reality is women with money will do what they did pre-Roe: Their expensive private doctors will counsel them on exactly the right words to use about mental trauma and suicidal tendencies so that the hospital board will rule the termination of their pregnancy a medical necessity. But the women who come to this clinic are often poor women of color who can’t afford to go outside the state and who can’t afford the expensive consultations on just the right words to say.

I was so mesmerized by The Bear that I read it in one day.

Imagine a five-year-old girl and her (almost) three- year-old brother trying to survive in the wilderness after their parents are killed by a bear in the middle of what should have been a routine camping trip. My family spent a lot of time camping when my siblings were in that age range. All of my memories of those trips are good ones, but I was reminded of how much small children don’t know as I read this book.

Anna, the narrator, had lead a happy, sheltered life. Seeing such a horrific series of events through her eyes softened scenes that would have otherwise been too gory or scary for me, although I do want to warn my readers that some of what she experiences is pretty terrifying.

If you can handle the thought of two young kids being in horrible danger, though, I highly recommend checking this story out. It was excellent!

What have you been reading?

Photo by L. Shyamal. Animal courtesy of Saleem Hameed.

If I were a turtle, this is the face I’d make when there are too many words.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t like people. I love being social, there just comes a time when I need a break from all of the words tumbling around me. Sometimes there are a lot of them!

Silence is refreshing. Some conversations need a lot of it afterwards so I can have a chance to absorb everything that was said.

Did you know that punctuation marks used to be used sporadically (or not at all in with certain writing styles and cultures), and that many early forms of writing never put spaces between words?

thatwouldbelikewritingthiswayallofthetime

My brain hurts just thinking about it.

Earlier this month I got little twitchy because I wasn’t getting enough time alone. I think I’ve come up with a good solution for it, but as I was brainstorming ideas I stumbled over these facts. (Never try to figure me out based on what I’ve googled recently. It’s an eclectic jumble of stuff I need to know for my short stories, bizarre questions that pop into my mind, and random words I’m not sure how to spell. Only about 10% of it actually reflects my real mental state. Haha!)

I used to imagine words tumbling out of the sky when I’d had enough of them. Now I think I’ll be picturing them crowding closer and closer together until I can’t where one ends and the next one begins.

How do you visualize these things?