Missing the Chinook

Know first that I detest wind.

But yesterday's sodden nearspring snowstorm in Ottawa reminds me that I still miss Alberta's Chinook. Another name, Snow Eater, is disputed, but it's apt. A Chinook shrieking from its characteristic arched mouth of clouds on the western horizon devours snow. Somewhere into a third week of unrelenting hundred-kilometre winds, when your eyes fill with dry grit, you feel as if it gnaws your brain, too.

But I remember standing one year in a late January field, after weeks of singing, minus-thirty cold, feeling my lungs crack with each breath, when the crystallized air changed. The arch opened over the mountains, iciness suddenly softened.

I stood still, in stillness, feeling warmth begin to breathe around me for three-quarters of an hour. The temperature rose a degree a minute. The last moments, I could hear water starting to run under the snow. When the banshee wind finally pounced, the air temperature was well above zero.

I detest wind. But that dead of winter memory — less than an hour of moistening, warming, impossibly tropical stillness, is magic I hold close.

Image: Ann Kelliot's Photostream on Flickr

Time to publog the parliamentary dining room...

Senator Céline Hervieux-Payette has gleefully tweeted that the Parliamentary Dining Room will, for the first time, soon serve up seal on its justly-renowned silver platters.

Publog time! One simply can't turn down such an obviously-patriotic opportunity!

But in the spirit of full disclosure, one must warn fellow ESIs that one has actually eaten seal on occasion. As a practiced connoisseur of portable, potable furballs, I hafta say that, PETA-ensnaring terminal cutes aside, it is stringy, oily, dark, and more than kinda fishy-tasting. Maybe why they're doin' it sometime around the Ides of March.

You have been warned. And I hope the decadent mounds of chocolate-y desserts are especially good that day. . .

We're not the only ones creeping out bloggers!

Yesterday, local blogger DaniGirl of Postcards from the Mothership reported that she was freaked out and felt violated that her blog along with 7 others had become the subject of a master's thesis, “Works in Progress: An Analysis of Canadian Mommyblogs by Heather Lyn Fleming.

According to DaniGirl, Fleming made "egregious assumptions" about the bloggers and was unethical in not contacting them or getting their permission before writing or publishing.

I'm don't know what the "egregious assumptions" were. They might be mentioned somewhere in DaniGirl's original posting on the thesis, but I don't want to take the time to go through the 97 comments on the off chance they are mentioned. I think I'll just assume that I wouldn't find them to be any worse than assumptions I've made when reading other people's blogs.

In Today's followup, DaniGirl seems to be less freaked out and has backed away from her original position, but not all the way:

I can’t say that I regret my original post, because I wrote it in good faith and I think it resulted in a truly fascinating conversation. I haven’t changed my mind about thinking that Theryn crossed a line in her assumptions, and that she took my work out of context.

Of course, Fleming is also a blogger. She seems to have taken the criticism in stride:

#creepythesis

February 22, 2010

I woke up yesterday morning to find my thesis had its own twitter hashtag.

I’m not going to launch into a defense. Readers are free to think my writing is crap, skim it, interpret it differently than I intended, etc. That’s the nature of writing. I just wanted to acknowledge that I’ve seen the reaction.

On the bright side (!), more people probably read my thesis yesterday than read most people’s theses ever

For more commentary:

• Dani is feeling indignant at Coffee with Julia
• #creepythesis on Twitter
• "Me, " the Subject of a Master's Thesis...?
• Creepy Thesis? by a subject who didn't find it all that creepy
  

Emergency Meeting Minutes: 2010-02-19

Venue: The Usual Spot
Present: 4th Dwarf, Coyote, Woodsy, Aggie

Absent: Chair (without regrets, no excuse), Independent Observer (with regrets and excellent Canadian excuse), Conch Shell (with regrets, reasonable excuse)

1. Parsing Elginstreet.com's (crass) attempt to either dognap Coyote, take us over, or do something else: Did Matty actually read the blog before making the offer?

[Background]

W: How much money are they offering? I say for $500k, we'll do it.

C: We should ask for one million dollars.

A: Between $500k and $1M, let's start at $1M

4D: Really. If they offered us any money at all we should take it.

C: What if they want editorial control?

[General laughter at the idea of any ESIs taking editorial direction from anyone.]

4D: If it is only Coyote that they want, should we tell them ,"No, but you can have the Chair"?

[All agree.]

2. How to support Aggie non-intrusively : best practices

A: Moving on to the next item...

[Woodsy intervenes in her indirect but persistent way to keep the agenda on track.]

A: This is good. ESI meetings, crafting, drinking, watching TV...

W: Above or below the blankets? [see RNDP 22]

4D: I think she means above the blankets.

A: Yes. Above the blanket.

3. Canal Skateway: Is the ice lousier this year, or is it just the Citizen?

A: These are the same people who said Gordon Lightfoot was dead.

W: The ice is not lousier.

4D: When I've been on it this year it's been in the condition I'd expect for the weather on the preceding days.

W: The Citizen is lousier.

A: Because [redacted] is [redacted].

4: The Olympics: The ESI's Official Position

4D: I don't think the Olympics are important enough for us to have an official position on.

C: Okay.

5: Vitamin D: The ESI's Official Position

A: I'm generally for pills.

W: No.

C: Yes.

4D: 3 out of 4 of us are pro-vitamin D, but I think there should be no official position on Vitamin D because it's not an area of our expertise.

A: I take vitamin D. I don't feel better, but I blame that on the Year of the Tiger.

5: To Twitter or not to Twitter

All: Not.

6: Official Positions

A: We could have an official position on positions.

W: What kind of positions?

4D: I don't think she's talking about yoga.

W: Oh ho. [Woodsy makes a suggestive smile and eyebrow waggle.]

7. Whither the Blog

A: Do we need an advisory board?

W, C and 4D: huh?

A: A group that could advise us on new directions, new technology, long-term planning, short-term planning?

Woodsy, Coyote and 4D endeavour to politely explain that they have no interest in taking direction from anyone else and doubt that any of the rest of us would pay attention to such a group.

W: We already get advice from people in the comments.

Aggie still thinks it is a good idea and suggests some specific names for board.

W: Zoom came to an emergency meeting and told us to just keep doing what we're doing. Megan came and said the same thing.

4D: On the one hand, I don't see the point because we won't pay any attention to them. We don't even pay attention to each other. On the other hand, our blog has become a public trust. Dare I say, a sacred public trust and perhaps we do need an external body to ensure we fulfill that trust.

[4D goes on to propose a mechanism that would address Aggie's proposal in a future posting. All agree.]

8: [Redacted]

4D: Do we have anything to say about Conch Shell commenting at [redacted]?

A: She's a free agent.

W & C: She can do whatever she likes.

4D: Yes, but do we want to encourage her to comment?

[This question is never answered because the conversation somehow is diverted to that old topic of how much more fun it was when we were metablogging the Fifth Muse. Woodsy reiterates that she doesn't get it because she wasn't around for all that. Aggie tries to explain with a diagram.]

Strollers on buses: ummm, little common sense, here...?

On the big issues, City Council often tweaks. And tweaks. Lansdowne Park redevelopment must not be a big issue, because the Mayor tossed that one to a few business guys he happens to like, opening neither his eyes nor a public tender process.

Strollers on buses? Woohoo! All over that one! The issue looms as large as some of the strollers.

There are plenty of views on this. Fourth Dwarf took a shot in this very blog.* Some stroller partisans seem to suspect an all-out attack on the sanctity of motherhood. Some bus passengers seem to desire no less than a clear cannonshot down the bus' centre aisle without hitting anything. Except maybe that sketchy-looking kid with the iPod, sitting dead center, back row. And city council is lovin' this one, because it's just the kind micromanagement issue from which they can suck all common sense. Nature abhors a vacuum. Ottawa City Council routinely creates 'em to operate in. Draw your own conclusion. I'm just sayin'...

One issue is that while city buses have, like most things North American, gained girth over the years, they have not kept anything resembling parity with the bigger baby buggy builders. (Say that three times, fast...) Humungostrollers are fashionable, ubiquitous, and hard to find alternatives for.

I see sound reasons for their big-ass bicycle tires. In Ottawa in winter, horsing the abysmally tiny wheels of old-style foldable strollers through ice ruts and snowdrifts can quickly bust up the stroller, the person pushing it, and/or the baby on board. (We shall not discuss those damn triangular yellow signs in SUV windows just now. I digress.) And I am totally down with the fact that lotsa moms who can afford one stroller only will buy the one that pushes most easily.

However, there can be a sense of entitlement around motherhood. (Kaffee-klatsching yummy mommies who circle their children's SUV-proxies like covered wagons around their tables at the Glebe Bridgehead, such that even a shifty li'l coffee-jonesing coyote can't slip past without fatal entanglement: I'm lookin' at you...!) There can also be a sense of entitlement among civilian bus commuters who want to get down the aisle without the clothed equivalent of pole-dancing, and who look askance at rows of front jump seats folded up for one or two lower-mobility passengers when they'd like to be sitting in 'em.

Bottom line, though, is that it's public transit. Ya share it. Bus users who buy strollers need to take that, and a tape measure, into account, and two-legged commuters need to understand that it's a bus. Sometimes it gets crowded, but it's good for your wallet and the environment, and sharing it with everybody who needs it makes it that much better for both. And how important is it to always get your own way, really?

What I'm advocating is a little common sense. And a modicum of the courtesy that used to be called "common", before it became uncommon.

And it would be really good if you didn't kick that shifty li'l coffee-jonesing coyote hiding under the seat in front of you. In exchange, he won't bite you. And may not eat your cat. See how easy courtesy can be?

* UPDATE: see Zoom's simultaneous post on the issue, here

The canal skating experience

Whillikers.

If ya didn't know the secrets of finding a good time in this town, ya might think that in Ottawa, on a kinda lamely labelled provincial civic holiday in the middle of winter, there'd be nothing else to do but skate on the kinda worse-for-wear Rideau Canal. And that ya might be one of maybe a million-odd Ottawattamies to think the same thing.

Actually, upon reflection, ya might be perilously close to right about that...

Let the real games begin...

If you just immigrated from a cannibal galaxy to pose as an earthling, I'll give you a big hand and tell you that today marks the beginning of The Games That Must Not Be Named.©®™*

Only yesterday I was telling the Independent Observer how torn I felt. I can, and do, admire the single-minded focus and dedication of athletes that train for years to compete. And their overarching efforts in the sporting events themselves.

But the arguably corrupt organization of entitled minor ex-aristocrats behind them, and the overburden of corporate sponsors jostling to noodge as much reflected glory as possible away from these athletes? Not so much.

And the blank-eyed Prime Minister with the Fiberglas©®™ hair who plans a big post-prorogue poll bounce in the happily-ever-after of Canadian athletes (completely unconnected with himself) winning a buncha bent gold gongs, not at all.

So it is with a song on my lips and a smile in my heart that I open the ESI Olympic Non-Specific Scandal watch. Things are interesting already. We have the usual 30-odd garden-variety doping bans (not us, so far, eh?) meted out before that big flame even fired up. Performance-enhancing drugs are so 90s. Everybody does 'em. Can we just ignore that aspect and move on? Please? They're an inconvenient distraction. Not at all what we meant by Citius, Altius, Fortius. At least not originally...

But just out of the starting gate, we also have a wild Canadian accusation that the German luge team is using magnets in its sleds. Somehow.

Rapidly followed by official denials all 'round, from the Germans and the sport's international sanctioning body.

As a semimythical coyote of wily but small brain, I'm totally unclear on any, ummm, actual science-y thingies involved. So, apparently, were the accusers. But, hey, that didn't stop the story from bucketing out of the starting gate faster than sledders themselves.

There has been speculation in some parts that this is part of a psychological campaign to strike fear into the hearts of our sledding opposition and unbalance their sang-froid. Unfortunately, they ain't the ones lookin' unbalanced at the moment. Obviously, the PM excepted, Canadians are so amateur at this mind-game stuff. Must do better! Or as we coyotes always say, citius, altius, fortius...!

* Unless You're A Shill An Official Sponsor Whose International Corporation Has Paid A Whack Of Blackmail Money To The Private Club of Crepuscular Old Men Who Run The Franchise As A Personal Fiefdom

This Google Poem is killing me

* Life is killing me.

* The suspense is killing me

* shermans house is killing me.

* New York Is Killing Me.

* Rasheeda's Hair is KILLING ME!

* Facebook Is Killing Me.

* That doll is killing me.

* Princy is killing me again, she says if i dont pin up my bangs from now on she'll just butcher them her self. God, i hate that woman.

* I must confess, that my loneliness is killing me now;

* My bra is killing me.

* P90X is KILLING ME! (And I Like It).

* ouch, my back is killing me!!!

* Jealousy Is Killing Me.

* The suspense is killing ME TOO

* So...as you can imagine, this wait is killing me!

* your icon is killing me.

* I am having major spring fever, this rain is killing me!

* The anticipation is killing me!

* Ah man, he is killing me.

* MY HEAD IS KILLING ME!

* your traits is killing me!

* THE MUSIC IN THIS MOVIE IS KILLING ME

* this snow is killing me.

* this genetics class is KILLING me right now

* And Owen is killing me, I could just eat him up!!

* My guilt is killing me slowly.

* My current computer is killing me.

* this blizzard is killing me though,

* My headache is killing me, but in Japan this is the reality of the health care system.

[Source]

Other Mayors in the News: Preesall, Lancashire

From the Lancashire Telegraph in merry old England:

The mayor of a Lancashire village who got his “sexual kicks” by sneaking into bedrooms to steal and violate women’s underwear has been jailed for two years after he was caught out by a secret camera.

Church-going Ian Stafford, 59, was a highly respected member of the community and Mayor of Preesall, near Fleetwood, before his “bluntly revolting” behaviour was uncovered, Preston Crown Court heard.

Aphrodisiacly, Coyote*

If you knit a male friend a pair of tube socks and only have time to finish one before the gift exchange moment, don't wrap up the one sock on its own. Or, you will likely get asked, How did you know my size?, and be reminded about your naive faux pas for years to come.

Also, don't give a male friend a personal massager. Honestly, no matter how you explain that you innocently bought it for his sore muscles (being that he is a labourer), he will tell all his friends that you gave him a vibrator.

And, if wanting to make Coyote happy you give him a bag of granola with dark chocolate in it, be certain to look at the label carefully. Or, he will laugh out loud and say something like, So why exactly are you giving me this granola?



*And, that will be his salutation next time he sends you an email.

Ottawa's new coyote strategy

Dawg. Here we go again. Now, city councillor Diane Deans has jumped in with her ideas about this.

A close reading of the press, though, shows that she has overlooked the obvious: I suggest it should involve giving me lotsa chocolate. Preferably high quality, and dark.

That is all.

R.I.P., J.D.

Life as the Elgin Street Irregulars' designated literary coyote is not all free wine and cheese book launches, lemme tell ya.

Cards and letters began pouring in last week, politely pointing out that after the royal sendoff one gave to Erich Segal, it would be utterly churlish of one not to do the same for the late J.D. Salinger.

A more recent rash of polite missives has begun to pose the question: "Speaking of late, why the hell has one not stirred one's fuzzy butt and done so, already?

My bad.

But JD poses a unique quandary. His record. About mid-last century, he writes a clutch of short stories and novellas, and a vanishingly small number of novels, one brilliant, and one pretty damn good.

After which he bugs out to New Hampshire and turns recluse, not publishing another word for half a century, amid whispers that he's still writing reams of brilliant stuff for his own amusement only.

You can see the problem for pioneering metabloggers such as ourselves, even ones that have moved on from their original purpose. We have lived (and occasionally died) by the daily outpouring of committed bloggery. People who post more than regularly and who veer into the breathtakingly confessional at the mere drop of an innuendo. An innuendo often as not picked up, dusted off, undressed and punted center stage to swing around the pole, a bare sentence or two later.

JD? All that copy for 50 years, and we get nuthin'... The ESIs' unofficial position on his passing is that we think he would have made a lousy blogger. Make of this what you will.