Are we good?

Dear Blog,

I'm sorry for the last week plus of neglect. I know I got your hopes up with constant writing and then kinda just left you hanging with no explanation. I know your number of hits have suffered as a result and there was little you could do without my getting back to it. I guess the following is a series of excuses for my erratic writing behaviour.

• Wedding planning: A couple of months ago, M and I sat down and came up with everything we needed to do, and then saw that we had "so much time" left to do it all and Ramadan was coming up, and in general things were just busy on other fronts so… we let it slide a little. And rightfully so. But now, the wedding is not getting any farther away and the stuff still needs to get done. It's fun, but very very time consuming (and I like to think we're keeping it pretty low-key and I'm not being an insane Bride-zilla, but it's just something that takes A LOT of time)


• I can't wear my hijab because WHAT?: So, lucky for me, I'm a federal government and not a provincial government employee. The Quebec provincial government is considering passing a law to disallow "ostentatious religious symbols" a la France, in public life. So my fellow hijabi's would be told to take off their hijabs or not come to work. Same with Orthodox Jews who cover their heads. Same with Sikhs. Same with Christians wearing crosses. Oh wait, what's that you say? Christians with crosses are welcome to keep wearing them? Well, then, I guess this isn't about keeping society secular after-all… Needless to say, I've very very concerned, upset, hurt about this whole debacle. I'm not sure what's so threatening to Quebec society about little old me in a headscarf, (or any other piece of clothing for that matter) or how it would interfere with my ability to do my job as a public servant, teacher, etc… And whatever happened to a woman's right to choose what she wore? Why doesn't forcing me to take off my hijab equate to oppression the same way forcing someone to wear one would? ... So, I've been trying to let as many ppl know to write their MPP's about it if they live in Quebec, and just generally to spread the word and stay on top of the issue.


• Hockey: Ramadan is over, and the hockey season is young, and for a Habs fan like me who's been starving for good old Canadiens' hockey since that dreaded game last April (which they lost, resulting in their missing the play-offs), the time is NOW to catch up on what Les Boys are up to. So far so good. We have a young team (note the use of "we". I often talk as though I, not Guy Carbonneau, am the coach of the team) and we're still making lots of mistakes, but our young guys are a year more experienced, our overall level of effort is much more consistent than last year, and our newbies (rookies and free agents) are turning out to be an overall improvement over the bunch that left at the end of last year. Overall, I like the class of 2007-2008, though I wish Carbo would stop giving Kostopoulous so much ice time.


• Rain, Baaaaaaah!: Yes, I know this is a lousy excuse, but I'm anti-rain, and when it rains I lose all creative/expressive abilities… and we've been getting a lot of rain lately, so…

I hope these excuses are enough for you to sort of forgive me. I don't really promise I'll be writing all the time any time soon again. And I'm sorry if I mislead you with my little spurt of posting pre-Eid, but time is just gonna continue to be tight for a while… Are we good?

Be happy (but don't mind if noone notices) & Little Mosque

I love reading these funny little articles about the human brain and how it acts in certain social situations. Came across this one today, and apparently, the brain often ignores, or reacts much more slowly to smiles than it does to frowns, or even neutral expressions... Don't let that stop you from smiling though! Remember: Your smile in the face of your brother/sister is charity :D

Totally unrelated, but I'm loathe to post two threads in the same day, Little Mosque on the Prairie is winning a humanitarian award for addressing conflicts in a creative way and encouraging harmony. Way to go, my fellow Canadians and Muslims! That's how it's done!

Eid-ing

Here's a funny little anecdote about my Eid prayer yesterday morning: As we walked into the already full Civic Centre hall for the prayer yesterday, I was holding the hand of my little angela as I like to call my niece. However, as she was having a hard time carrying her new doll (a gift from Grandma!) and negotiating her way through the crowd, she had handed me the doll while we were a few steps outside the hall. The result was that everyone who saw me at "adult height" level and couldn't see my little angela saw full-grown Noha walking in, all dressed up for Eid prayer, hugging a little doll. I got several looks, and several comments. Explanations were required. Hopefully, all is now cleared up ;)

But seriously, there's nothing more wonderful than the excitement of a little child to make Eid a really special occasion. My niece thought Eid was a person, and - not yet understanding the abstract concept of an event "coming" - she kept waiting for him to show up at the front door. By the end of yesterday though, I think she'd figured out that Eid is gathering of many people (all of whom lean down and look at her, give her hugs and kisses, and then turn to her mother and exclaim how she's grown!), the eating of chocolate and other tasty treats, the opening of presents, and just generally the having of fun.
I had a really great time, and have come down with a vicious cold to prove it (hey, you can't gather more than 5 thousand people in a place for a party in Ottawa in mid-October for 7-plus hours and expect to get away without catching something!)
I also had my first non-home-made Spelt chocolate cake (purchased by the wonderful M) from "The Wild Oat" on Bank and Fourth Avenue. If you're wheat-allergic, or celiac (they do egg-free, sugar-free and dairy-free stuff too), go! You'll find a lot of yummy stuff. My taste buds have been very happy since I discovered this store a few months ago. (I promise I don't work at the Wild Oat, and they're not paying me for this endorsement.)

Tomorrow, it's back to work, and back to 8 a.m. - as opposed to 5 a.m. - coffee. But even though I'm having coffee at a normal hour again, I hope that I can carry some of the Ramadan momentum into my regular routine. Like being more patient, more considerate, all that good stuff I don't always think about enough. My mom always says Ramadan's like a spiritual gas station, and you've got to fill up.

Worst Confession Ever

There's a McDonald's across the street from Work, and on my way home today, I had the HUGEST craving. Thankfully, it's the last day of Ramadan, and so the craving could not be acted on. See why fasting is good for you?

p.s. Happy Eid to all!!

Thanksgiving

Warning as we start this post: schmoopiness ensues in the following lines, and if you're a reader who can't handle sop and a bit of cheese (what are you doing on this blog exactly?? I've always been sentimental) then I would recommend proceeding - or not - with caution.
So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving (for you Americans, Canada's Thanksgiving is the first weekend in October, not in November), here's a random list in no particular order of importance of things for which I am thankful:

• A long weekend. Being able to get up late and wander down to see my beautiful mother reading Quran in the black chair at the far end of the family room; having snippets of the random conversation we've become so good at - pieces of meaning distributed and distilled between laughter and anecdotes, interspersed with inside jokes, dotted with queries of concern (Me: how's your back today? Any better? Her: Have you slept enough? Eaten enough?)
  
• Walks with my sister. Both the power-walks of the someone-else-is-watching-the-little-angels variety, and the slow motion walks where my nephew is strapped into the stroller, eyes roving, the sky visible through his plastic sunroof, and my niece is ambling - dawdling really - beside us, so slow we stop walking and start strolling, walks where my back is perpetually bent at an odd angle so she can grasp three of my fingers in her tiny hand; that hand, held fast against mine, letting go to run ahead and discover, hold gravel, hold dirt, hold wild flowers and grass, small enough that the world spills through the cracks between her fingers, off her palm. On those walks, the contents of her hand are her world, and she is my world.
• The joy of opening my inbox to find a message from M in a secret language, decoding only in my head and inventing new terminology, a secret etymology no language professor will ever teach, no scholar will ever translate.
• Riding in the car with my father, an easy silence around the grip of the steering wheel, in his furrowed brow as he directs us home or away, here or there, a stop at Timmy's in the back of his mind and always at the next exit. He is our Captain because of the way we fall asleep and the car keeps moving, the way we wake back up and have our best conversations in that car and our best silences and still the car keeps moving, the way he pushes us, gently, to do, to act, to push the world a little bit forward ourselves in the same smooth way he pushes the car with all its passengers to our next destination. My father is not the passenger not because he cannot let others lead, but because he understands the burdens - as opposed to the privileges - of leadership.
• Reading the story of Prophet Yusuf in the Quran, and feeling that lump in my throat at the end when he embodies forgiveness, when he succeeds, when he sees love in his brothers and they feel it for him and imagining having all that to hold over someone and wondering if I would ever be able to forgive. and hoping I would. and praying I would.
• The thought of a poem, or a line of a poem, or a line of beautiful wording, unprompted, popping into my head and staying there long enough that I am able to write it down, that I have not lost it.
• All the cleverness, all the emotion, all the "aha!"-ness of a good book on a long afternoon in a coffee shop with comfortable chairs. Reading with a sense of both urgency and lightness. Having all afternoon.
• Grace. Not my own, because I do not yet think I have it, but finding it in others at unexpected moments, and being inspired by it.
  

Time

It is the simplest thing that reels you in and ties you up, the first in a series of actions that paralyzes beyond stillness, that drives you to pause and once paused makes you frenetic with the impossibility of the motion you have lost. The impossibility of once-there now-gone in half an instant of not-understanding, of every reference-point burning into non-existence until behind your eyes the after-glow of your vision is fading and the reflection is a reflection of an imagination and reality is not your eyes open or your eyes closed, is not your hands grasping or your hands lying still by your sides, is not your mouth moving, making words you do not understand, or your mouth silent, afraid of the words because you understand them, but reality is that plane on the other side of a dimension you can’t touch can’t taste can’t smell can’t hear can’t see – out of range.

A moment is a fluid, watery piece of thought you pretend you can parse through, the second ticking to the time of the minute to the time of the hour to the digitization of a heartbeat, but why then is this moment so much more than the one before it? Why is this the moment that stretches into a second dimension, then a third, growing first into a line and then a wall to separate BEFORE and AFTER, to separate THEN and NOW, to separate WAS and IS.
And that point, when a point, was still erasable, now irascible, no longer removable with the edge of a pencil and a few soft strokes, with the breeze from an open window, no longer removable even with every tool of demolition we rush to employ, first with the hammer, then the bull-dozer, then the wrecking ball; a wall of impossible strength, permanent, opaque.

Ordinary Miracles

Beautiful. Just wanted to share...
Listen to the song and don't worry about the Charlotte's Web Video

Double Standards - Violence in Hockey

If you know me, chances are you know I'm a very big hockey fan (this is always a fun realization for my non-Arab, non-Muslim friends who don't expect Muslim women of an Arab background to have any interest in such a "Non-Arab" sport, but the novelty always wears off when they've heard me chatter on about Habs prospects and playoff chances ad-nauseum).

If you've watched Hockey, you've probably realized it's a very physical sport. And I don't mind that. I don't mind checks and some jostling along the boards and full contact play, as long as it's clean. The problem, of course, is that "clean" is often defined by Hockey apologists as a very mechanical term, and seems to ignore the very essence of what that cleanliness is supposed to be aimed at doing - namely protecting the players on the ice from injury.

Why am I suddenly talking about dirty vs. clean hitting in hockey? Because of Steve Downie's hit on Dean McAmmond a few nights ago during an Ottawa-Philadephia exhibition game. Exhibition game. As in NO.POINTS.AT.STAKE. As in "even if you think violence has a place in hockey, why would you do something stupid and dangerous on a night when the stakes are low?"

But the stakes were high, for Steve Downie. Downie is a prospect trying to make the Flyers team, and he felt he needed to leave his mark. It's unfortunate that the way he chose to do that was with a dirty check that has left his opponent with a possibly career-ending (not to mention quality of life reducing) concussion.

And he's not sorry. When he was asked about the play afterwards, Downie responded that, "I was finishing my check. That's my game."

By that logic, it follows that it's okay to hurt others as long as that's your job. By that logic, hit men should not be punished for killing or injuring those they were hired to "take out".

Last year, after a vicious Chris Pronger hit on I-can't-remember-who at one point in the playoffs, I remember Pronger making a similar argument that it was a clean hit. This was clean defined in the mechanical terms, not based on the fact that the other player had ended up with an elbow in the head and a serious injury. And Pronger is one of the game's best defensemen, but still justifies this play.

The Globe and Mail's Stephen Brunt has a great article on this debate, and how we can't pretend to be disgusted by these dirty hits when they happen every few months, and yet encourage aggression and temper in between the incidents.

It makes no sense.

Silly-ness Endures

I think I feel a bit like this right now... That's a good thing ;)

taken at the old port, Montreal, in August

All About the Wordplay

I got these from a friend and, as I'm mentioned before, I LOVE corny-ness and puns, so I had to share...
p.s. I think I got most of them right (which would DEFINITELY not happen in French or Arabic)


The English Language: Isn't it Great?
Can you read these right the first time?


1) The bandage was wound around the wound

2) The farm was used to produce produce.

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7) Since there is no time like the present , he thought it was time to present the present

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

At the Risk of Increasing my Competition...

I heard this on the radio a few weeks ago, and since that time have alternated between "Yeah! I can do this! My writing's good enough to warrant an entry" to "Do I really want some poor soul to have to read over my pretentious poetry and then go home and comment to his friends/wife/kids about the TERRIBLE writing he had to read today?"

And I'm still undecided, but regardless of whether I enter the CBC's writing contest or not, I think some of you should. Especially Jen, and Sajda. Then I'll be very pleased that someone I know put some good writing in, even if that someone wasn't me...

Not Writer's Block but Writer's Lack of Focus

Over the last week, I have written so many random snippets of poems and prose that may or may not all belong together that I've lost track. I suspect this all began with Daniel Moore's poetry reading last Sunday, and since that time, my head's been swimming with writing, but so little of it has any order, that even though I write it down, it still seems useless.
I am unable to string together enough of one idea or one coherent beat to come out of this with any actual pieces, though at the moment I begin writing, it feels as though there's a poem, or a paragraph, or something waiting for me at the other end of my thought.
Back in high school, when I used to write with some regularity, I was forced to finish my work for assignments, good or bad, and so due to the law of averages at least some of the finished product was acceptable.
I've started reading through Bird by Bird, which Jen lent me after I explained in my meme how I never finish any writing, and it sort of helps, if only because I can relate to the writer's struggles (mind you, the woman is published, so...)
I've spent most of today working on a story I have to finish which started off so well, middled so well (you know what I mean) and now just refuses to finish. I'm close to the end, really, it's just that conclusions and denouements have ALWAYS been the weakest link in my writing.
When I think about it, any writing at this point should be a good sign. It's the engine sputtering back to life after being dormant for so long (and it can't be expected to run smoothly right from the start!) Still, I'm frustrated and trying not to be. Wish me luck.

Coffee Dilemna

If you recall, ages ago (aka roughly last year) I planned to quit coffee, and successfully did so... for 2-3 weeks, before work/life got hectic again and I just needed one which eventually spiraled into just needing another, and another, and, well, you get the picture. Earlier this summer, I copped to my addiction and faced the fact that for the time being, I'm not going to stress myself over quitting and feel bad for something for no good reason (it's like, either fix it or forget about it. Guilt without action is pointless, even destructive as far as I'm concerned, at least for a measly coffee addiction that's hurting no one but me, and even that only a little bit.)

All of this, of course, is a prelude to a "but..." - 'what's the 'but', Noha?' you ask? Well, the but is that Ramadan is soon, as in tomorrow, and during Ramadan we don't eat or drink between dawn and sunset, and that, of course, includes not drinking coffee. For a few years, the first few days of Ramadan have always been difficult for me for this reason - not because I can't eat, or because I don't drink water, but because I don't get my caffeine fix, and so it would only be logical that as Ramadan approaches, I phase coffee out gradually, so the lack of caffination doesn't hit me like a ton of bricks tomorrow.

Now, ask me if I phased out the coffee gradually over the last few days. Go ahead, ask: Did you phase the coffee out, like a reasonable, future-looking person would, as the inevitable approached?

NO! No, I didn't phase it out. I drank my usual mug every morning. In fact, I even went from a medium to a large the last couple of days, not because I'd gotten especially less sleep than usual, but just on a whim, just because I figured I was gonna miss the coffee.

So there. There's my confession. If I seem groggy or just kind of out of it if you run into me over the next few days, you'll know why...

Ramadan Kareem

Insha Allah on Thursday September 13, Ramadan will once again be upon us! I just wanted to say Ramadan Kareem to everyone, and to wish everyone good fasting and increased spirituality over this beautiful month.

Ottawa Muslim Poetry Night - Tomorrow!

If you're in to good, clean artistic fun, come on out to Cafe Supreme on Bank Street Tomorrow (Sunday night) from 5-9 p.m. for a poetry reading by Brother Daniel Moore and some yummy coffee. Some local writers (myself possibly included if I can get rid of my to-do list by that time) will also be reading their poetry.
See you (maybe, insha Allah) there!

The Official "Summer Being Over" Post

It's so strange seeing kids waiting at bus stops on the way to work this week. Then of course, there's wearing a jacket in the morning in the 9 degree weather, and having to carry it home in the 30 degree weather in the afternoon. Then there's seeing co-workers who've taken the entire 2 months off return, and there's realizing hockey season (and scarf / hat / mitten / wool jacket / boot season) is just around the corner - but hey, we're Canadians, right? We live in one of the most insane climates (when it comes to cold) on the planet, so we might as well embrace it....
but before we do... one last idyllic summer picture.

A Stolen Post of Beautiful Words

I found this on Sajda's site, and I think I've heard it before (either spoken or in song), but it was very nice to see it again:


The Final Analysis (a version of Keith M. Kent’s The Paradoxical Commandments)

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true friends;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you try to help;
Help people anyway.

If you give the world the best you have, you may get kicked in the teeth;
Give the world your best anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it was between you and God;
It was not between you and them anyway.

House Shrinkage

My sister’s daughter sits on the stool
before her grandma’s chair
face twisted in a semi-wince
at the pressure of the hairbrush coursing through
her thick black hair

This is the last time I will watch
her four year-old pigtails
twin braids with pretty hair bands
in the making

her little brother and cousin fight over a picture book
neither one really wanting it
neither one wanting the other to have it
and one of the mothers (one of my sisters) comes to the rescue
seats them both around her and reads the story
until they are bored and can’t remember why they were fighting
to begin with

My other sister is packing
Long-sleeved shirts and pants
Extra pj’s
Extra diapers
Extra pull-ups
Packing summer-wear that she’ll pull out in California
And re-use for winter-wear

I don’t see her
Drink her tea, always cold, before they leave to catch the train
Probably, she had no time this morning

Tree on the Causeway

I promise I'll write again soon instead of just posting pics, but it's been a very busy week
a) getting back to work
b) getting back into the city and catching up with ppl.

Two quick and random "friend notes": baby shower on Thursday for a friend, should be quite fun, and, drumroll please: HADEEL'S BACK IN OTTAWA! (those who don't already know of her brilliance, check my blogroll and start reading!) Of course, you already know she's back if you read her blog, but I'm SO thrilled. We chatted briefly (and I mean briefly) last night, and I can't wait to sit down and here all about her excellent adventures (seriously, I would watch a movie about Hadeel's life if one existed) straight from the horse's mouth...

Now, off to sleep, but first a pic I took last week in Calabogie of a tree on the causeway in the middle of the lake. Good night all!

Random Montreal Pics, Part II

Here's a few from my trek through downtown Montreal via St. Catherine, Renee Levesque, Peel, and McGill College, as well as a few streets I can't remember the names of (K, I know you're probably shaking your head at the "of" at the end of my sentence, and I know I'm not supposed to put "of"'s at the end of a sentence, but I can't remember which grammatical rule I'm violating, and I can't be bothered to find a better way to write the sentence...)

Random Montreal Pics

Back from cottaging, and will have a lot of pictures to post soon (after laundry, eating, sleep, returning to work, etc... so maybe not as soon as I hope!) but for now, some of my random Montreal pics I promised from my trip a couple of weeks ago.
This post includes a pic of my beloved Bell Centre (home of the Habs, for you non-Habistanis), and several shots from our walk through Old Port. In a future post, I'll include my "getting lost downtown" pics.
Hope you enjoy.

Go Habs Go!

Old Port

The View from Old Port across the river (to Laval I think?)

The "BeaverTails Beavers" at the Old Port

Cottaging

Off to the world of lake and canoes and kayaks and tennis tomorrow... Wish me good weather. See you in 10 days, Blogger!

To part, here's a pic from Montreal's Old Port to tide you over.

Lost City...

Or rather, me, lost in a city. That's what happened this morning on my little walk around downtown Montreal... I've discovered that the best thing that can happen to a person trying to get a sense of direction in a new(ish) place is to get semi-lost in it on her own... this forces you to figure out, using whatever internal map and reasoning works best in your head, where exactly you are:

I wandered a little further than any of the directions I'd been given, and in trying to find my way back to my sister's place, I now, for the first time, despite NUMEROUS descriptions of the city grid by my sister, my brother-law, my dad, M, and seemingly everyone else who's ever been here that wouldn't stick in my head, I think I (sort of, kind of, maybe) finally have a little internal downtown Montreal map in my head. Victory!

Random pics of the city to follow in the coming posts...

The Breezer is Back!

All fans in Habs Nation are currently either pulling their hair out and screaming frustration, or welcoming back one of Montreal's most damaged hockey sons in recent years. Consider me of the latter grouping:

Yesterday the Canadiens announced the signing of Patrice Brisebois, who left 2 (3? Can't remember) years ago via free agency after the boo-birds at the Bell Centre made this guy's life so miserable, he developed an irregular heartbeat from their merciless treatment. Breezer, as he's called (or Breeze-by as the crueler fans call him), didn't exactly light it up in Colorado, with his (then) new team, and as his back problems acted up again, he only played about 30 games last season. Even so, Gainey has signed him to a one year, $700K deal, and he'll be used sparingly in Montreal on even-strength and saved mostly for time on the power play.

I'm happy to have him back for the following reasons:

• We, the Montreal fans, always complain that no one wants to come play here. Well, here's a guy who does, even though he knows first hand how abusive and vile we can be all under the guise of our love of hockey
• Last time Breezer played here, he was being used as the #1 D. And he's NOT a number one D. He was playing against the other teams' top lines. This time, Markov, Komisarek, Hamrlik and probably Streit are all above him on the depth chart, with even Dandenault and Bouillon likely to get more ice time on even strength if they play well again. Montreal's D is drastically improved from the corps that once included Patrick Traverse playing regular minutes. Brisebois will not be expected to play the hard minutes, and used in a limited role, he should be effective
• The fans are constantly complaining that we don't have enough D who can make that first outlet pass. Last year, with the exception of Markov and maybe Streit, none of our D did it. This year, we've added both Hamrlik and Brisebois, who can. This is the key to getting out of our zone and getting on offense, so DON'T underestimate.
• Our biggest (read: only) weapon on the power play (ahem, Souray) has gone and signed in Edmonton. Brisebois may not have Souray's crazy slapshot from the point, but he's always been a very effective power play point getter.
• Our poor memories convince us fans in Habs Nation that Breezer had TERRIBLE defensive numbers his entire 14 seasons in Montreal. We go on and on about the -31 we all had to watch. In fact, this happened ONE season, the season he was played on his wrong side the whole year. Otherwise, he never came anywhere close to that level of disastrous Defensive play, and in fact, was reasonably adequate on D and quite solid for points offensively.

I hope other fans are willing to give him another chance when the puck drops this October. Those who bemoan the 5 steps backward the Habs have just taken by signing Brisebois should remember, this isn't Breezer at $4.5M a year playing first pairing minutes against the other teams' top lines, this is Breezer at $0.7M playing third pairing....

On Witty-ness

Two of my favourite comics in the whole wide world are The Far Side and Dilbert. The Far Side appeals to the side of me that's read some history and anthropology and psychology, and just enjoys the quirks of human nature, while Dilbert appeals to the "I spend 40 hours a week in an office and sadly most of this is relatable" side of me. But the thing I truly love about both of these comic strips is that they find a way to capture the hilarity of the situation they're describing with a very short amount of words and pictures (The Far Side tends to use 1 panel only for each comic). They're truly "witty", in the quick-witted sense of the word.

I take to forwarding my friends Dilbert comics almost everyday, because I could never say what they say so well in so few words, or in such an amusing fashion. I'm actually fairly long-winded (as if you haven't noticed!) and I often wonder if wit and long-windedness can go together, because I do like to thing I'm good with jokes and can make astute observations. But my conclusion is that for this to qualify as "wit", it has to be brief. Isn't there an expression: Brevity is the Soul of Wit?

I guess I don't qualify after all. Oh well.

The Excercise Ball is No More

If you've been reading my shadow for a long time, you'll know that a few months ago, I was considering bringing an exercise ball to work to sit on for a few hours of the day, which would force me to straighten my crooked back. Well, my friends, I did, indeed, bring in the exercise ball and have been using it for a few hours a day (except when very lazy)... until today.

Today, the folks from the Workplace Health and Safety Group at work came by and told me that sitting on an exercise ball at work is faux-pas. And why, you ask? Well, it seems that if I fall off said exercise ball, I could hurt myself, and then it would be considered a workplace injury, and then any subsequent physiotherapy, medical procedures, etc, would be billable to work, and they would like to avoid that cost...

All fine and dandy, except have any of you seen an exercise ball? They're like 2 feet off the ground. First of all, I hope I would have the balance not to fall off of one, but say I was a total klutz, and I did indeed fall, the drop would not be far, and our floors are carpeted, and well, my point is, why don't they force us all to sit in bubbles and cushion the floors and walk 10 feet away from each to avoid the risk of tripping over each other's feet and - heaven forbid - fall the horrendous distance of 2 FEET! 2 FEET!

Now, I'm a compliant person, and I follow the rules, so I deflated my beautiful exercise ball, and took it home with me tonight, but I shook my head (in bemusement of course, I'm not bitter, just mildly irritated/amused) the whole way home.

Pah-tay!

Below, some flowers from the party last weekend (I can't take credit for the picture, it was someone else who took it...)

Home Remedies in the Tradition of Buckley's

i.e., they taste awful, but they work...

Following in the "Noha has a BRUTAL cold" theme, here are some ways to deal with that scratchy, agonizing throat (that keeps me up all night, because every time I lie down, I feel the overwhelming need to cough), that congestion, and the constant sneezing and coughing:

• honey, honey, honey... fill a bowl or a container or whatever, and take a lick every few minutes. By the time your cold is gone, you won't want to touch anything sweet with a 10 foot pole (so you'll lay off the chocolate for a while) and the honey soothes your throat, which helps with the coughing, not to mention it's a natural antibiotic. The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) frequently recommended honey for its medicinal properties.
  

• garlic. yeah, raw garlic. Best to do this one when you're not going out... but it's also a natural anti-biotic.


• Oregano Oil; incredibly hard to swallow, somewhat numbing, and only for the strong of stomach, but one drop will clear your congestion through your sinuses and throat. It's hard, but if you can manage not to water it down with any water, juice, or food, eventually (and I'm talking 5-10 minutes) you start getting sensation in your mouth again.


• Ginger tea; all you need here is hot water and ginger powder, great to help you clear your throat. Warning, the taste is rather strong, but the more ginger powder you can put in, the better (try 1/4 of a teaspoon for 1/2 a cup of boiled water

and lastly, if you're losing your voice (like I am), and you need to conserve it for a little party you're attending on Saturday (like I am), speak as little as you can... For those of you who know me, you know this is the hardest 'get better' task for me to pull off :0

Happy Friday the 13th, Y'all!

Random thoughts:

• I find superstition an incredibly silly thing.
• When my father played soccer in various leagues around the city while I was growing up, he often wore number 13, just to prove to everyone it wasn't a curse. This usually worked because he scored about 2 goals a game, on average.
• Really, every Friday is a happy Friday, what with its strategic positioning right before the weekend. I plan on taking this weekend to recuperate and hopefully rest enough that my voice comes back (I've almost lost it thanks to the lovely cold I was telling you all about here and here).
  

Language Expressivity

I love making up new words, words that certainly don't exist in any dictionary, but that anyone with a good grasp on the English language will understand due to the their construction. Case in point: "expressivity" in the title above. I'm almost certain (didn't actually bother to check in a dictionary) that this word does not officially exist, but you know what I mean, don't you? It's like a more expressive way to say "expressiveness".

I have expressivity in English because my language is strong enough. Currently, though I speak both French and Arabic, I DEFINITELY lack expressivity in either of these beautiful languages. BUT, and this is a big BUT that I'm quite excited about, I'm working to change this. For French, I've taken to listening to French radio basically all the time (in the car, as white noise at work (I work so much better with background noise)) and it does seem to be helping. My French teacher actually told me to "entendre sans écoute" (hear without listening) and just let it seep in. So this is what I'm trying to do. I don't concentrate, I just leave it go in the back ground, and once in a while, my ears perk up at a specific "je ne sais quoi" I find interesting and I pay attention for 23 seconds to the story. It's actually quite easy. Anyone who wants to try this and is a CBC junkie like I am, I recommend 90.7 FM in Ottawa, which is the French equivalent of CBC Radio One (91.5) and really quite a fun station...

For Arabic, my plan is much more elaborate. It's to talk talk talk all summer, and eventually the expressivity will come! You see, my Arabic is actually much much better than my French, but also significantly weaker than my English. I can say almost anything in Arabic, but I lack the 'thesaurus' element of extra vocabulary when discussing "deeper" topics (aka emotions, belief, philosophy". I have Zero problem discussing a recipe in great detail (chop, dice, simmer, boil, stir-fry, pan, pot, ladle, grater, etc... all of these I can say in Arabic) but the different words for "confounded" and "confused"? or "ecstatic" and "delirious with happiness"? or "thoughtful" and "pensive"? I don't know these. Every time I've needed to really "express" myself, I've switched to English, even if I've started off in Arabic.

Fortunately, I have something that will MAKE me improve my "expressivity" this summer, and that is the fact that I have 4 adult relatives around this summer with limited or no English visiting from Egypt, and I really do want to have these great, deep conversations with them. I know it won't be that easy at first, but language is something you only master if you use, and I'm okay with using it and making a slight fool of myself at the expense of coming out on the other side of this with expressivity... Those of you who live in Ottawa and speak Arabic, remind me of this when they leave in the fall and I laze back to almost exclusive English, please...

Head Case...

Nothing quite as fun as getting a classic Ottawa-winter head cold with all the trimmings in the middle of a semi-heat wave in July. My body wants iced tea and lemonade, but my throat is screaming for hot ginger with honey. Is it hot? Is it cold? I can't tell anymore... I wear sweaters inside our air-conditioned building and then step outside for a second and WHAM, the stagnant, humid air hits me and I want to go for a swim... (There's one of those outdoor fountains near my bus stop. I swear, one of those days when the humidity is just too much, you'll probably find me sitting on the edge dipping my toes in!)



In the last day and a half, I've finished a full box of Kleenex, the size of which I usually take 2 months to get through; I'm so congested that I was joking with a fellow-down-with-a-cold co-worker that we should just forget about breathing and grow gills. Now I just have to figure out how to do it.

Happy-ness/Busy-ness

I had lunch with a dear friend from high school today who was in from Vancouver (very sweet of her to come down and meet me at my place of work because things are just a little too hectic for me to actually make it anywhere after work these days) and we just ate Chinese in a food court and chatted away about wedding planning and being busy in all the happy ways that a million things happening at once can make you feel...

I used to be bothered by the being busy, see... I used to feel like "how am I going to get everything done?" and look at the clock each night and realize it was past eleven and that half the things on my to do list from 2 weeks ago were still there and this was the day I was going to finish everything and I hadn't and I still had to be up at 6 a.m. for work and I was coming down with a cold and ... well, you get it, right?

Factually, not much has changed. I'm still rarely asleep before eleven. I'm still usually up at 6, my to-do list is never finished and I'm still perpetually coming down with a cold and I've temporarily (I don't even think about when I'm going to make my next attempt) shelved my quitting coffee attempts, because I can't imagine getting through the day without it right now, but you know what?? All of that is OKAY, and it being OKAY is a conscious decision...

Because right now, my life is busy, and that's lovely. It's lovely that I have loads of my beautiful, wonderful, extended family coming to visit for the summer. It's lovely that I can get a hug from a niece or nephew, or three of them at the same time (and get them a glass of water, and sing "Allahu Rabbi" with them (or "Bubby", as my youngest toddler-angel calls it in her toddler-talk), and kiss their knees when they get a scratch, and try to burp them and feed them and wash their hands after they've made a mess, and try to quiet them down when they're crying) whenever I so please. It's lovely to be getting closer to the day when I will, insha Allah, get married, (and thus spending a lot of time planning a wedding, remember the table linen colours I never thought I'd get excited about?). It's lovely that when I get to go out for a bike ride, I really truly savour it because I figure it won't happen again for quite some time. And it's lovely coming down with my perpetual cold, because every time I do, my sweet, doting parents bring me honey and chicken soup and make sure I'm eating enough and tell me to take care of myself and sleep on time, but we all know there's no possible way I can with all the awesome conversations and catching up happening in the living room.

Life is happening this summer, and when I come out on the other side, I'll have my memories (and lots of pictures) to remind me of how fun it was, despite the insanity. and besides, all I need to do is grab a cup of coffee and stay awake to enjoy it, right?

Hope

The last two days of cloudy weather have made me rather thoughtful/introspective... I read this lovely poem by Emily Dickinson, whose poetry I usually can't relate to, and felt the words were so accurate that I thought I'd post it. Hope you like:

Hope is the thing with feathers

that perches in the soul

and sings the tune without the words

and never stops . . . at all

-- Emily Dickinson

What Stephen Harper would say if he opened his mouth and his actions came out

I found this beyond-hilarious letter from Stephen Harper, our Right Honourable Prime Minister, on Rick Mercer's blog today. The letter outlines the Conservative Government's 5 new priorities... The 5th Priority:

This fifth priority is a secret. Any suggestion that we couldn't come up with a fifth priority is scurrilous and unfounded. Any individual, group, media outlet, political party or church group who suggests we have run out of ideas supports the Taliban.

Do you love it or what? Read the whole thing in honour of the sad state of our Country as we approach our 140th birthday this Sunday. Enjoy!

Chaos Theory

When I get home from work tomorrow, God Willing, my little angels and angelas (read: nephews and nieces) will be all gathered together in the same house in the same city for the first time ever. I can't wait to see what will happen with all of these tiny little bundles of joy in the same place, fighting over the attentions of their grandma and grandpa, whom they're not used to sharing with so many other little munchkins... If you think I'm exaggerating, consider the fact that I'm talking about 3 pre-schoolers and 2 infants: fun will most DEFINITELY ensue... and as always, I'll have my camera ready to capture the chaos. It's going to be an AWESOME summer. I can feel it ;)

Draft Day

and by Draft, I'm of course referring to the NHL player draft taking place this weekend, starting tomorrow night... I'm nervous for my Canadiens because a) I think there's a big trade coming (always happens when all 30 GMs are in the same place, and there are rumours Patrick Marleau could be a hab when all's said and done), and, b) I think my Habs are going to pick Angelo Esposito with their first pick, and rumour has it he's another Mike Ribeiro, and I'd much rather they pick a defenseman...
It'll be interesting to see how things have played out on Monday. I'll be biting my nails...

"Meme"-ing

My dear Jen has tagged me to do a meme, which I'd never heard of before she told me to do one... now, because I'm lazy, I'm downright stealing the definition of what a meme is from her blog post where she "meme"d:


Meme's appear to be like chain letters for blogs. You pass them onto people and they pass them on again... and again... You get the idea.

Meme's are like the blog version of those emails you get that ask you (among other useless questions):

"do you like sunsets or sunrises?"

"if you could meet anyone living or dead who would it be?"

"shampoo or 2-in-1?"

"paper or plastic?"



Here is the meme I was tagged to do...

Rules:1. Each player starts with 8 random facts about themselves.

2. People who are tagged write a blog post about their 8 random things and post the rules.

3. At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and post their names.

4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.



Now, I'm one of these ppl who rarely forwards forwards, but these emails are pretty much the only kind I do enjoy forwarding along... The problem, of course, is that most of my fellow bloggers have either been tagged by Jen already (she stole Hadeel!!! I wanted to tag Hadeel!) or don't really blog on their blogs (that's M, who only posts pictures); so while I'm participating, I doubt I'll find 8 players to tag. Maybe 2 or 3...



Here are my 8 random things that I'm willing to disclose:

1. I love punctuation. Like LOVE. With capital letters. As a writer, I think punctuation is the greatest gift in language, and I constantly use it for creative license in a completely-ungrammatically-correct way (see previous use of hyphens, (and current use of parentheses)). To anyone reading my writing, it may look like my misuse of punctuation is completely random, but I assure you, 90% of the time, I know I'm making a "mistake" and I just don't care. I'm using a system I've devised and I'm bury brackets within brackets, or over-use hyphens, or constantly toss in ellipses ... It's probably because I almost always write the way I talk, and I'm a very long-winded talker... but rest assured: there is method to my madness. Not all of my punctuation is deliberately misused. For one thing, I am quite proud of my use of the comma. If a comma can go there, I'll put it there. Every time. When editing papers/essays for my sisters, or articles/books for my parents, my correct use of the comma has resulted in my family nicknaming me the "comma queen". It's dorky, but it's also VERY appropriate. And I like my crowning title.


2. I think of myself as a tomboy. Currently, and at this stage of my life, this makes little-to-no-sense: 45% of my wardrobe is pink (as I write this, I'm wearing a white and pink striped button up, and a pink wrap-around scarf); I'm a notorious movie cryer; I am the perfect example for the "women can't shut up" argument... but I'm still certain that I'm a tomboy. I think this is because, a) no matter how fashionable I try to become, my comfort-freakness wins out, and b) I love watching sports, especially hockey


3. I also think of myself as a writer, despite the fact that I've never formally published anything outside of school papers, this blog, and my section of my parents' "Meet our Family" chapter in their "Parenting in the West" book, when I was 13. I've been writing silly poetry since I was 8. I went to a special arts school for creative writing during high school and the sheer number of hours I spent writing stories/character profiles/plot lines/poems/common place pieces/articles instilled in me a sense of 'writer'ness so great that I can't shake it, even seven years later. And I'll be honest: I like being a writer, even if I don't actually write as much as I wish I did. It's releasing; it's expressive; it's intense and relaxing at the same time. I was taught during my 3+ years in the writing program to carry around a writer's notebook in which I could scrawl anything any time I got an idea or saw/heard a great line that might later inspire me. I still carry a book around. This is part of the reason I always carry a massive purse. It has to fit my notebook, the novel I'm reading, and all my other junk.
   In my attempts to remain "writerly", I've started 4 stories/novels, none of which I've finished. These "novels" have filled multiple notebooks, and I'd read them to my poor younger sister as I wrote, using her as my audience to see if my story was interesting/follow-able... my problem was always with plot... Either I'd spend too much time on the character development that I'd never get a plot started and the story would just run out... or when I managed to come up with a plot intensive story, I'd reach the literary equivalent of critical mass where I'd be three notebooks of scribbles in, right around the climax, and needing to bring it all together when I wouldn't be able to remember all the pieces I had to tie up, and the writing that came so easily would need to be replaced by reading through what I'd written to refresh my memory... all of this would be easier to do if a) I had typed up my stories, and thus could search for the necessary information more quickly, or b) I had more time to dedicate to the writing... as it is, I have a full-time job which has nothing to do with writing, and do most of it on my commute to and from work, into notebooks, so when the going gets tough, the writing stops... My poor younger sister still nags me at intervals to finish the stories so she can get her necessary resolution. This both guilts me and comforts me. At least it means she was interested.


4. I can be incredibly silly with kids. My sisters and nieces and nephews know this first hand. If you're leaving kids with me, be prepared for the fact that I will talk to them using made-up words, silly animal sounds, and swing them round and round until we're both exhausted (usually starting with me)... Don't worry though, I will respect your wishes not to feed them chocolate or sugar...


5. I am actually enjoying wedding planning. This comes as a big shock to me because as I mentioned in 2, I think of myself as a tomboy, and I've never really enjoyed party-planning. I guess there's something special about a person's own wedding though... This is incredibly cliche, but I actually spend time thinking about table linens and colours...


6. When I'm reading fiction, my writing tends to take the tone and style of the author whose book I'm reading (except nowhere near as polished). This becomes especially obvious is in long pieces (such as my unfinished novels) or pieces that I start while reading one book, and finish while reading another... When I was writing one of my doomed novels, I went through Timothy Findlay, Margaret Atwood, a Michael Connelly mystery, and some chick lit all at the same time. No wonder the novel was doomed, right? Can you imagine all of those mixed together???


7. In an attempt to waste less time and learn more, I'm trying to read more non-fiction. In the last few months, I have started about 6 different books. I haven't been moved to finish any of them, but baby-steps, right? Besides, I'm learning that with non-fiction, unlike fiction, you can take quite a bit away from each bit you read. You don't necessarily need the whole thing to "get it"... Or maybe I'm just making excuses?


8. I love corny jokes. Anything with puns is like chocolate for me. Long after Don Cherry had started getting on my nerves, I continued to watch Coach's Corner on Hockey Night in Canada just so I could hear the pun Ron MacLean would make at the end. The worse the joke, the harder I laugh. I firmly believe in the "so bad, it's good" concept when it comes to corny jokes... some of my favourites:
   -"Doctor! Doctor! I feel like a pair of curtains"
   -"Well pull yourself together then!"
   And
   Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies "Yes, I'm positive."
   And
   Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and, with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good) a super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis

So who am I tagging? Well, I'm going to ask Sajda to do this... I think she'd have fun with it, and Majdi too... and K, I'm going to challenge you to post something more personal and less intellectual on your blog (I LOVE reading your stuff, although it sometimes hurts my head, but I would just like to see what you'd say for this)...

Summer Hockey Talk

If you don't care about hockey, stop reading now. This is an unabashedly hockey and habs-specific post... I'm not going to bother explaining much. It's only out there if you just can't get enough about the Habs over what has been our long, slow off-season, and because, as a Habistani, I need to vent...



It's going to be a painfully slow summer for Habs fans, who are dying to know who goes, who stays, and whether there will be big changes at forward (will we be able to get rid of Sammy? will Kovy finally be quiet and just play, hopefully better than last season? will we get a #1 or #2 centre to help out our poor Captain K? will Chips, Kosty, and Grabovski move to the big club permanently, or stay on the farm?) at D (we got Markov (YAY!!!) now will the Habs brass go after Souray? Or will they try to pick up a Hannan/Rafalski/Timonen instead? Maybe none of these? Maybe a trade? Can we get Emelin over from Russia? Even if we do, will he be ready?) and at Goalie (this was the only position where we THOUGHT we knew what would happen: Huet the starter, Halak the back up, but then Carey Price had to go all Patrick Roy on us out of Junior and lead the farm team to the Calder Cup title... not that I'm complaining, but this could result in an earlier call up for the kid...)



The most interesting and pressing issue for the Habs is our D (I'm certain that if every other position is not improved, but the D gets an upgrade, we could still be a MUCH better team next year)... and of course, the most interesting question on D is the Souray question: To Souray, or not to Souray? Over at A theory of ice, I found a great article on this very subject. Enjoy, fellow habs-fans!

End of the (Sens) Road

I don't think they'll win tonight. Even if they do, I think the Ducks will ultimately win the finals. Whatever happens though, I just want to say that I'm proud of them for going this far... I didn't follow the series incredibly closely, or watch each game obsessively, because after all, these aren't my Canadiens in the final, but it is my hometown team, and I still think they accomplished a lot this year... Que sera, sera. Thanks for the memories you gave Ottawa this spring anyway, Sens!

The beginnings of another high rise

Along my route to work. Downtown Ottawa:


And another reflected building (I get a little hung up on the same theme sometimes...)

Glass on Glass, Shadows, and Bank Street Construction

Random pics from around Ottawa in Early May:

Here, the shadows of Rideau Centre's glass roof on the wall above Sears in the Eaton Court


Inspired by M's glass reflection photo, I attempted to take one of my own of a building reflected in another's glass exterior.



Also, non-stop construction on Bank Street near work. This is the second summer they rip the street's guts out, and though it needs the "surgery", I feel for the shop owners...

Anti-American, Anti-Canadian or just Pro-Equality?

I read this fantastic article on CBC.ca about a book regarding what's often called Anti-Americanism, but what's actually Anti-American Exceptionalism. The article's author defines American Exceptionalism as: "the increasingly shameless U.S. tendency to believe it is above the rule of law, that it is exempted from the rules other nations are expected to obey."



The test she uses to define whether Canadians support this exceptionalism is as follows: "When America does something, like invade Iraq without the permission of the UN or rampage through Afghanistan, how would we assess that act if it had been done by Syria or Libya? Dreadful, we would say. Action must be taken. We would call on the UN to place sanctions on Syria, to starve its citizens (as was done to Iraq), to bomb it back to the Stone Age, or however non-thoughtful people phrase it. "



Unfortunately, this exceptionalist attitude is creeping into Canadian politics with the current governing party, the Conservatives. I won't go so far as to call them Canada's version of Republicans, because Canada in general is a more liberal and left-leaning country, but we're currently as close to a right-wing, we-know-what's-right, international-law-be-damned attitude as we've been in a LONG time... and it's very very scary. Read the whole article here; it'll certainly help to have a definition for what it is you are (and aren't) the next time you're called Anti-American...

What I meant to say was...

To clarify what I said yesterday about not being inspired to write... this is not exactly accurate. It's more along the lines of the words I've written below. Maybe those out there who've had writers' block will recognize this oddly agitating feeling...

I have this freakish sense
that
I should be writing
am inspired to absorb
but the words come out
like scribbles: empty

how much poetry must
a person inhale
before her pores will bleed it back
for the world to swallow
before her senses
invert the experience
gush and froth
the words like water
breaking a dam
of silenced apathy?

One of those weeks (and T.S. Eliot)

This week the weather warmed up beyond expectations to high 20's / low 30's levels, along major humidity, making yours-truly incredibly sluggish... add to that going in for Jury Duty (my name wasn't called, so I didn't actually have to sit on a jury, just a lot of waiting around), staying late at work for some last minute stuff, and the fact that my boss retired today (best boss ever! I'll miss her A LOT) and I've been not particularly inspired to write or take pictures. I still wanted to update the blog (it NAGS at me when I leave it a long time, and the nagging has been in full swing for several days now) but being in a non-creative state, that left not a lot of options...

Sure, I could have gone through the roughly 60 pics I took at the Ottawa Tulip Festival on Monday, but that would involve figuring out which ones are good and which aren't, and I wasn't really up for that either, so those pictures will have to wait.

Instead, here's my favourite poem for your enjoyment: Portrait of a Lady, by T.S. Eliot. I love this poem for its simplicity, its lyricism, and most importantly, the way it delivers such a potent message in such a clever way. Enjoy:

Now that lilacs are in bloom

She has a bowl of lilacs in her room

And twists one in her fingers while she talks.

"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know

What life is, you who hold it in your hands";

(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)

"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,

And youth is cruel, and has no remorse

And smiles at situations which it cannot see."

I smile, of course,And go on drinking tea.

What You See...

is not always what you get. This video by Dove shows so well how the beauty industry is unreal. It's a minute long. Watch it, you'll be glad you did.

ISNA Canada - this Weekend

The Islamic Society of North America's annual Canadian spring convention is this weekend in Ottawa (it's almost always held in TO, so this is big news for the capital, and a small victory for us Ottawans and our inferiority complex).
I'll be talking on a panel about my experiences as a second generations Muslim Canadian, under the heading: "From Integration to Contribution". M and I were discussing yesterday, and he made a good point (which I think I'll steal for my talk) that Contribution, in some ways, has to come before real integration comes. Until you care about the society to contribute to it, you haven't truly integrated. I think he's right.

The other thing that comes to mind when I think of Integration is the following Quranic verse:

"O mankind! We have created you from a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know one another..." (49:13)

It doesn't say to ignore one another. Integration is a basic concept in Islam.

Oh, Canada

They did it again: Today, in Russia, Canada's Senior (over 20) Men's Hockey Team won the gold medal at the IIHF world championships with a 4-2 win over Finland. After taking a 3-0 lead into the third period, the Canadians had to make it interesting for their fans by conceding 2 goals before going back up 4-2.
Way to go boys! The Canadian team not only won the gold medal, but they went a perfect 9-0 for the tournament, something they've never done before. We dressed my niece in a little "Team Canada" Red T-shirt with a player skating down the front before the game started. Being as young as she is, she had no idea what was happening, but could sense our excitement, and it rubbed off on her a bit...
There are few things that give me a more genuine sense of pride in being Canadian than watching our hockey teams do so well. This year, Canada has swept international tournaments by winning the Men's tournament, the Women's tournament, and the Junior tournament.
It's consolation that my NHL team, the Habs, didn't even make the play-offs...

Slater Ave.

I finally tried out my camera in manual mode and fiddled with the various settings of aperture and shutter speed... These pics from Slater Ave on Friday afternoon.




In other news, the Ottawa Senators advanced to the third round of the Stanley Cup play-offs for the first time in forever last night, beating my most hated team, the New Jersey Devils, in the process... Not quite enough to turn off the Habs and on the Sens permanently, but they are my hometown team, they are the only Canadian team left, and they are FINALLY, FINALLY playing as well in the play-offs as they always do in the regular season. 8 more wins and a Stanley Cup parade in Ottawa... A possibility? I think so.

April Showers

After several days early last week of beautiful June weather (temperature in the 20's, sun always out) we've had what seems like every variation of rain possible for nearly ten days: drizzling, pouring, threatening to come down but not actually falling, big drops, hazy air but no drops to speak of...

This morning, out with my niece for a jog (she sits in the stroller, I push and run, not a bad workout ;)) I stopped to take some pictures of budding flowers (inspired by this photo on M's blog); to my grand disappointment, my 10 attempts did the exact opposite of M's picture, with my buds coming out blurry, and the backgrounds coming out clear! This is motivation to actually read my camera's manual and figure out how to increase the shutter speed for my pics, as I figure a big part of the blurriness was the slight wind that was shaking the flowers ever-so-slightly...
I won't bore you with my not-cool pics. Instead, here are a couple from the rainy week in downtown Ottawa.

on the roof a building across the street from my French class downtown, 14 floors up

before the fountain has its own water at Place de Ville

no one out on Starbucks patio

Pics are Back!

I took these before lending my camera to a family member a few weeks ago; now that it's quasi-back-in-my-possession, I've had a chance to upload my pictures.
Here are my favourites:
One of M holding his camera (yes, we truly are a photography-obsessed couple):


... and one of some wonderful yellow pipes:

Something is very very wrong here

By now, everyone's heard of Virginia Tech. I have a habit of turning on CBC Radio One while I get ready in the morning, and for the last two days, as I listen, I tend to start crying at a word or two in the newscast. The whole situation is just so upsetting, but on top of how angry/sad/helpless the thought of these poor 32 people who lost their lives so senselessly makes me feel, there's a feeling that's poking around at the edge of consciousness and upsetting me even more. And it's this:

How many other deaths have I heard about while I get ready each morning in Iraq, in the Palestinian territories, in Afghanistan, in Rwanda, in Somalia, in Thailand, and in so many other countries and regions I can't even remember which ones they are anymore? Did I cry? Did I feel anything more than a twinge of frustration as I picked out my shirt/skirt/scarf/jewellery for the morning? Did my mind wander to other topics while that part of the newscast aired, and only snap back to attention when I heard something "relevant" to me, like the day's weather?

On Saturday, I was at a panel discussion on Promoting Peace and Healing between Muslims and Christians, and I spoke about how Islam ties the concept of Peace to the concept of Justice, how every believer has a responsibility to bring about justice in their day to day life, whether it be with something big or small. I quoted this prophetic saying:

That who sees something detestable, let him change it with his hand, if he cannot, then with his tongue, and even if he is not able, then with his heart, and that is the weakest form of faith

And talked about how at the very least, protesting with our hearts was the way to keep ourselves from becoming desensitized to the world's injustices. I am desensitized. I'd be willing to bet that most of us who live in safe countries with heating and stocked fridges and cable tv and shopping malls are desensitized. I definitely, definitely need to get myself sensitized again.

Food, Health, and the Environment

I've posted here before about my allergies (wheat, sugar, milk and milk products, some nuts, some fruits, and a few other additives and preservatives). I only discovered my allergies about 2 years ago after nearly 10 years of feeling sick and not knowing why, and it was a great challenge and an exercise in discipline to overhaul my bagel-and-cream-cheese-lovin' diet to something that wouldn't leave me in a constant state of nausea.
I slowly improved and eliminated the foods I couldn't handle, but because nothing made me so sick that I could never cheat, I often went back and had "just a little bit" of a chocolate bar, or a slice of cake, or a peanut butter sandwich. and then I would start the slippery slope to having "just a little bit" more, and on and on until I constantly felt sick again.
Recently, my "just a little bits" left me feeling much sicker than they used to, and I made a decision that it's just not worth it. Period. Full Stop. I've been good and strict about my diet for a few weeks now, and I'm feeling much better. I've also been looking at some of the other health trends out there when it comes to incorporating what you eat with how you treat the Earth. While I'm not yet ready to make the drastic adjustments required for some of these (and may never be) I still enjoyed reading about the hundred mile diet and raw food eating.

I have some opinions about why so many people are now developing food sensitivities, and I believe that it's definitely linked to mistreatment of both our bodies and the environment. The antibiotics we ingest, the pollution we inhale, the pesticides we put on our crops, all of this is fairly recent, and eventually, our bodies rebel, and the Earth rebels. One thing I discovered in trying to overhaul my diet and consciously eat healthy food is that too many people eat without thinking about what they're consuming, and more often than not, what's out there (and what we're eventually putting inside us) on supermarket shelves is shockingly worse than we may have ever considered.
I'm convinced it's all interconnected, although I'm not yet sure what I'm going to do about it.

How to break a sports fan's heart

How could you, Les Boys? I believed in you. I thought you could do it, and you lose to the Maple Leafs during the last game of the regular season and surrender 8th place.
For all my loyalty, I will get no play-off hockey this year, not even a first-round loss to the Buffalo Sabres.
On behalf of Habs fans everywhere tonight: Ugh!

Camera-less...

This is an excuse, but I really do think it's a legitimate one: my camera is currently on loan to a family member who really needs it much more than I do. That's why there are no new pictures.
I've also been reading a lot more than I've been writing for the last week (more on that in a future post) and that's why there's no new writing...
Publish
If you're starved for cool writing, I suggest checking out Sajda's poetry section.
If you're starved for cool pics, I suggest checking out M's photos, especially this one.