Systematic Absences: In the crystal lattice, molecules, and therefore atoms, occur in a periodic arrangement, that is, a repeatable pattern. Similar to an Escher painting except in three dimensions. If you took Grade 11 physics, then you maybe did an experiment with a phenomenon known as diffraction, where you put small slits in a piece of paper and then looked at the diffraction pattern when you shone light through the slits. Depending on the pattern of slits, you would see a unique pattern of light and dark bars. Diffraction occurs where the light waves are scattered but interfere with each other after passing through the slit(s), so that some waves reinforce each other (a bright bar) and others cancel each other out (a dark bar, or no light). The same thing happens when you fire X-rays at a crystal, you get some resultant light and dark spots (remember now we deal in 3-D however, so things aren't so simple and you need the right computer programs to deconvolute the patterns. Remember also that people used to do this by hand up until about the early 80's when computing power improved.) The places where we would expect to see light spots but don't, are called systematic absences and they occur due to inherent symmetry within the crystal. The one thing you must keep in mind is that sometimes that inherent symmetry isn't there; not that the molecules are randomly arranged, because that would result in an amorphous solid and not a crystal, but that there is no higher symmetry than that of the simple repeat of the molecule within the crystal. In that case, there are no systematic absences. If we see them, then there is more symmetry than the simplest case. Wikipedia helps out a little bit, here, and here. Otherwise, use Google to find out about diffraction patterns and simple diffraction.
My email address for this site is systematic.absences (at) gmail (etc. etc.) I did not choose this moniker randomly, but took into account the fact that a great deal of my personal belief system is based upon inherent symmetry and as a result, finding things where you expect them (or the corollary: not finding things where you don't expect them). Like most people, I'm not a simple arrangement of molecules, and my thought processes are complex and often conflicting. No doubt you consider yourself similarly: your feelings and thoughts may be in direct conflict with each other, and you spend a great deal of time trying to sort everything out to keep a shiny veneer so that you won't appear to be completely barking mad. There are times therefore, when you do not behave as expected because too many things have cancelled each other out: your sister-in-law dies, and then your brother-in-law looks like his stomach cancer might have returned (to be confirmed this week) and your other brother-in-law has just gone for a liver biopsy to confirm a blood test. So you dig the garden, even though you should be cleaning the house because BF2 will be here in a few hours. You go outside and sit in the sun, and don't even bother with the garden because it will take care of itself anyway, it's good and strong. Then you notice that the garden is starting to die out, that summer has disappeared out from under your hospitalization and your sister-in-law's hospitalization and death, and cleaning out her condo, and visiting family and confirming that your father will die sooner rather than later, and looking at the mountains and lakes but not getting the usual regeneration from that, and school starts next week so summer is about done, as is the garden, so what's the point anyway?
Your sudden absence from the work or from where you're expected is just due to the cancellation of the diffracted information. And still, you plug on, just in the dark for a while. Overall, is there a patten? Overall, I believe that yes, there is. I don't know what it is because I obviously don't have all the data, but I believe that it exists. Does it take away from my notion of free will? Absolutely not. Do I feel as though everything is predetermined and that therefore my action or inaction has no bearing on the outcome of humanity? No, because that would be self-defeating and pointless. I hold both conflicting views at the same time: that there is an inherent symmetry, and that I determine my path by the choices I make.
Regardless of whether this view holds true for you, and quite possibly it absolutely doesn't, it holds for me and helps me understand how the world works. Some people don't need any kind of explanation, because for them the world just carries on and things happen without any rhyme or reason. There's nothing wrong with that outlook either, but it doesn't work for me.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
-ites, -ers and -gonians
I was just browsing the Geist new, shiny website, and came upon a review for a book by Katherine Barber called Only in Canada. In some respects I don't care about keeping a written record of Canadian catchphrases, because they change all the time and what was in common use when I was a kid (jambusters and canned drinks) may not be in use to any great extent now. Geist keeps a Canadian Phrasebook going (although I can't locate it on the website right now) and it's cute, being made up of things "we used to say".
What I thought of though, was what often is said to me when I tell people I'm from Winnipeg. I don't go around proclaiming that I'm from Winnipeg, don't get me wrong, but if asked, I indicate. "Oh! Winterpeg! I've been there!" it's always Winterpeg. You know, I would like to take the person who first coined that little moniker and slap them upside the head (it might have been Don Percy (scroll down a bit to find him) but I suspect it didn't really happen in my lifetime.) because after 10,000 times it's just not funny any more. It wasn't funny in the first place. Yes, it's cold there in the winter, but it's Winter! the temperature drops that time of year, sometimes to -40C, but not for the entire season. It's not like it's winter all the time, and it's not even as cold as Edmonton or Regina, but still, the pun is the play on words, and whenever I hear someone say, "Winterpeg!" my first thought is that they are particularly stupid and uninventive. Next thing I expect is, "And the mosquitoes in the summer....!!" and they can be particularly nasty, I'll admit, but at least there isn't a special way of saying "Winnipeg!" when people say, "The provincial bird is the mosquito, right?"
That wasn't my rant for today though. I was looking at the Geist site, like I said, and glancing at the book review, when it was pointed out near the end of the review that people from various locales indicate their home base via different suffixes. People from Winnipeg are Winnipeggers (whatever connotation that brings to mind) and when I've told those who've asked me that, they're usually, thankfully, stumped for a snappy comeback. Those from Halifax are Haligonians. Those from Guelph are Guelphites. I don't know why Haweaters live on Manitoulin Island, but I expect that is explained somewhere here.
It's not like this suffix business is a special Canadian thing, it's just that the one sentence in the review caught my eye, and I was reminded of a former colleague who used to go around saying "Winterpeg!" as though it was the funniest thing ever heard or said, ever. Then again, he used to refer to me as an "Upper Canadian" or say that I had no idea how poor (as in monetarily poor) some of our students would be, seeing as I'd never been around poverty. Two things come into play here, the first is that I am the furthest thing from Upper Canadian as one can be, and that it is almost a direct insult to refer to someone from The West as being from Southern Ontario. I take the liberty here of defining Winnipeg as The Gateway to the West, although Albertans don't consider Manitoba to be The West. It's a tricky clique. Like a fool, I take the bait on these issues and will attempt to correct the misinformed (Oh, you're all the same to us, anyone not from here is an Upper Canadian), even when they are just trying to rile me up. Sadly, I am easily riled, but equally sadly, while my former colleague used to eventually break down and say that he was just pulling my chain, I knew full well that he was ignorant of the differences between The West and "Down East", which is the Toronto/Southern Ontario area, and not to be confused with The Maritimes, which to most people from The West might as well be another planet. Even there I'm being inaccurate, because the of the recent -- last 15 years -- of migration from The Rock to Fort MacMurray, so The East Coast is not so much another planet as just not Down East.
My second issue was of course that I'd never seen poverty before. Without going into details, I'd say that Southern Ontario isn't devoid of poverty, and that I'm otherwise pretty familiar with it.
What I thought of though, was what often is said to me when I tell people I'm from Winnipeg. I don't go around proclaiming that I'm from Winnipeg, don't get me wrong, but if asked, I indicate. "Oh! Winterpeg! I've been there!" it's always Winterpeg. You know, I would like to take the person who first coined that little moniker and slap them upside the head (it might have been Don Percy (scroll down a bit to find him) but I suspect it didn't really happen in my lifetime.) because after 10,000 times it's just not funny any more. It wasn't funny in the first place. Yes, it's cold there in the winter, but it's Winter! the temperature drops that time of year, sometimes to -40C, but not for the entire season. It's not like it's winter all the time, and it's not even as cold as Edmonton or Regina, but still, the pun is the play on words, and whenever I hear someone say, "Winterpeg!" my first thought is that they are particularly stupid and uninventive. Next thing I expect is, "And the mosquitoes in the summer....!!" and they can be particularly nasty, I'll admit, but at least there isn't a special way of saying "Winnipeg!" when people say, "The provincial bird is the mosquito, right?"
That wasn't my rant for today though. I was looking at the Geist site, like I said, and glancing at the book review, when it was pointed out near the end of the review that people from various locales indicate their home base via different suffixes. People from Winnipeg are Winnipeggers (whatever connotation that brings to mind) and when I've told those who've asked me that, they're usually, thankfully, stumped for a snappy comeback. Those from Halifax are Haligonians. Those from Guelph are Guelphites. I don't know why Haweaters live on Manitoulin Island, but I expect that is explained somewhere here.
It's not like this suffix business is a special Canadian thing, it's just that the one sentence in the review caught my eye, and I was reminded of a former colleague who used to go around saying "Winterpeg!" as though it was the funniest thing ever heard or said, ever. Then again, he used to refer to me as an "Upper Canadian" or say that I had no idea how poor (as in monetarily poor) some of our students would be, seeing as I'd never been around poverty. Two things come into play here, the first is that I am the furthest thing from Upper Canadian as one can be, and that it is almost a direct insult to refer to someone from The West as being from Southern Ontario. I take the liberty here of defining Winnipeg as The Gateway to the West, although Albertans don't consider Manitoba to be The West. It's a tricky clique. Like a fool, I take the bait on these issues and will attempt to correct the misinformed (Oh, you're all the same to us, anyone not from here is an Upper Canadian), even when they are just trying to rile me up. Sadly, I am easily riled, but equally sadly, while my former colleague used to eventually break down and say that he was just pulling my chain, I knew full well that he was ignorant of the differences between The West and "Down East", which is the Toronto/Southern Ontario area, and not to be confused with The Maritimes, which to most people from The West might as well be another planet. Even there I'm being inaccurate, because the of the recent -- last 15 years -- of migration from The Rock to Fort MacMurray, so The East Coast is not so much another planet as just not Down East.
My second issue was of course that I'd never seen poverty before. Without going into details, I'd say that Southern Ontario isn't devoid of poverty, and that I'm otherwise pretty familiar with it.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Pest AugustMeeting
Groundhog: I'd like to call this meeting to order....where's my zucchini? Man. There were some big fat zucchini's out there a few days ago, and then what happened? Nobody watered, that's what happened. What I wouldn't do for a ladder and some opposable thumbs right now. Anybody got a nut? Something? The walnuts aren't ready yet? Jesus. Throw me a bone here guys. The carrots aren't ready, the zucchini is gone, there are hot peppers where the sweet peppers should be....
Squirrelly Secretary: Groundhog? Could we get on with it please? I've got a shed to destroy and the day's disappearing here. I've got six kits to kick out of the nest later, and bulbs to dig out of the garden to put away for later. So it's a busy day. Why are we here, anyway?
Wasp Squadron Leader: We've been hanging out in the pool, man. It's excellent. I had a taste of some child flesh earlier in the week, it was amazing. Honestly, I may never go back to chewing up paper again if i can bite the animals. I hear talk of some kind of sugar water in a bottle that I've not had a chance to try yet though, and I am totally looking forward to that. I'm just waiting to hear back from a few of my guys...they've been gone an awfully long time though, now that I think about it. Life is sweet for a wasp though, end of summer, the pears are ripening, nothing like buzzing the pears for sugar. Still, this sugar water in a bottle thing, I've so got to talk to my peeps on this. Where were we? The garden? Out of my realm of interest dudes, no sugar in the garden anymore, the flowers are gone.
Groundhog: Actually, we're waiting to hear from Pete and Francis, but they don't appear to have shown. Squirrelly, do we have quorum if Pete and Francis aren't here? I can give you their latest report if that's okay, and then we'll have to send in a search party. Wasp, you have any spare workers who can go in?
Squirrelly: We have quorum. Pete and Francis aren't on the Executive, and we've got over 60% of the voting membership. Martin is here, he can probably fill us in on the situation Inside.
Wasp Squadron Leader: We're ready to go in any time, everybody is pumped to check it out. My guys aren't back yet, are they Chewy? What the hell happened with them? They drunk or something?
Chewy Wasp: I've got some bad news to report Sir. Mandibles and Stripes are gone. They went into the bottle and didn't come out. I have to say, it's hard to resist Sir. I know the pool is a draw, but the sugar water is too much. I barely made it here and I have to go back and check it out.
Wasp Squadron Leader: It doesn't sound like an honourable way to die, sipping sugar water and trapped in a bottle.
Chewy Wasp: Honourable? Like what's rumoured to have happened to Pete and Francis? To die eating is the only way to go Sir. With all due respect and all that.
Wasp Squadron Leader: Hmph. We'll see. And what happened to Pete and Francis?
Martin (panting, had to run across the field to get to the meeting and is late): Hey. I've got some bad news. Pete and Francis, after 10 days of feasting, have gone to their reward. Snapped in the traps, necks broken quickly so they didn't even know what hit them. They made it through the first night and managed to get the peanut butter without springing the thing, but the bread was too much for them. Somehow, the human figured out a way of getting the bread to stick to the trip switch, so when Pete tried to get at it, SNAP! and he was done. Francis didn't know, she tried the next night, with the same result. They've put all the food in containers! There's nothing left for us there. Even the nesting materials are pretty crappy, and besides, DOG is back. She's old but she doesn't fool around. It's her house, nobody is invading.
Groundhog: Well, that wraps up that recognizance mission then. Pete and Francis made the ultimate sacrifice for us, and now we know that we should just stick to the great outdoors. Any further comments?
Wasp Squadron Leader: I totally think we could take them.
Squirrelly: I've got six babies who are starving and ready to eat the entire house down. We climb better, we chew better, we're bigger. I'd have to go with Wasp, we're ready to move in at the first sign of winter.
Batman: You know, I've got some friends over in the West End, they've been up in the eaves at a place and buzzing the Humans every evening. It's great fun for us and keeps them totally distracted.
Squirrelly: Yeah, but they managed to evict my cousins while you guys were buzzing. Worked for you, not for us. Forget it. I say launch an all-out assault. We just all go in at once. What about you, Groundhog? You're not generally an Inside guy.
Groundhog: Well no, but if you guys all move in, I can take over this garden space. First thing, I'm getting rid of those hot peppers. Listen, I think we'll need another meeting to discuss the attack, and I'm hungry right now. Let's say we meet next full moon, once everyone has talked to their people. Martin, do you think that you'd be able to get some followers together?
Martin: Well, maybe. Everybody's pretty spooked. If we've got a bit of time then I could probably talk it up. The raisins were really tasty, and so were the nuts. Yeah, we can do it.
Groundhog: Excellent. Next full moon then. And snacks for everyone, my treat.
Squirrelly Secretary: Groundhog? Could we get on with it please? I've got a shed to destroy and the day's disappearing here. I've got six kits to kick out of the nest later, and bulbs to dig out of the garden to put away for later. So it's a busy day. Why are we here, anyway?
Wasp Squadron Leader: We've been hanging out in the pool, man. It's excellent. I had a taste of some child flesh earlier in the week, it was amazing. Honestly, I may never go back to chewing up paper again if i can bite the animals. I hear talk of some kind of sugar water in a bottle that I've not had a chance to try yet though, and I am totally looking forward to that. I'm just waiting to hear back from a few of my guys...they've been gone an awfully long time though, now that I think about it. Life is sweet for a wasp though, end of summer, the pears are ripening, nothing like buzzing the pears for sugar. Still, this sugar water in a bottle thing, I've so got to talk to my peeps on this. Where were we? The garden? Out of my realm of interest dudes, no sugar in the garden anymore, the flowers are gone.
Groundhog: Actually, we're waiting to hear from Pete and Francis, but they don't appear to have shown. Squirrelly, do we have quorum if Pete and Francis aren't here? I can give you their latest report if that's okay, and then we'll have to send in a search party. Wasp, you have any spare workers who can go in?
Squirrelly: We have quorum. Pete and Francis aren't on the Executive, and we've got over 60% of the voting membership. Martin is here, he can probably fill us in on the situation Inside.
Wasp Squadron Leader: We're ready to go in any time, everybody is pumped to check it out. My guys aren't back yet, are they Chewy? What the hell happened with them? They drunk or something?
Chewy Wasp: I've got some bad news to report Sir. Mandibles and Stripes are gone. They went into the bottle and didn't come out. I have to say, it's hard to resist Sir. I know the pool is a draw, but the sugar water is too much. I barely made it here and I have to go back and check it out.
Wasp Squadron Leader: It doesn't sound like an honourable way to die, sipping sugar water and trapped in a bottle.
Chewy Wasp: Honourable? Like what's rumoured to have happened to Pete and Francis? To die eating is the only way to go Sir. With all due respect and all that.
Wasp Squadron Leader: Hmph. We'll see. And what happened to Pete and Francis?
Martin (panting, had to run across the field to get to the meeting and is late): Hey. I've got some bad news. Pete and Francis, after 10 days of feasting, have gone to their reward. Snapped in the traps, necks broken quickly so they didn't even know what hit them. They made it through the first night and managed to get the peanut butter without springing the thing, but the bread was too much for them. Somehow, the human figured out a way of getting the bread to stick to the trip switch, so when Pete tried to get at it, SNAP! and he was done. Francis didn't know, she tried the next night, with the same result. They've put all the food in containers! There's nothing left for us there. Even the nesting materials are pretty crappy, and besides, DOG is back. She's old but she doesn't fool around. It's her house, nobody is invading.
Groundhog: Well, that wraps up that recognizance mission then. Pete and Francis made the ultimate sacrifice for us, and now we know that we should just stick to the great outdoors. Any further comments?
Wasp Squadron Leader: I totally think we could take them.
Squirrelly: I've got six babies who are starving and ready to eat the entire house down. We climb better, we chew better, we're bigger. I'd have to go with Wasp, we're ready to move in at the first sign of winter.
Batman: You know, I've got some friends over in the West End, they've been up in the eaves at a place and buzzing the Humans every evening. It's great fun for us and keeps them totally distracted.
Squirrelly: Yeah, but they managed to evict my cousins while you guys were buzzing. Worked for you, not for us. Forget it. I say launch an all-out assault. We just all go in at once. What about you, Groundhog? You're not generally an Inside guy.
Groundhog: Well no, but if you guys all move in, I can take over this garden space. First thing, I'm getting rid of those hot peppers. Listen, I think we'll need another meeting to discuss the attack, and I'm hungry right now. Let's say we meet next full moon, once everyone has talked to their people. Martin, do you think that you'd be able to get some followers together?
Martin: Well, maybe. Everybody's pretty spooked. If we've got a bit of time then I could probably talk it up. The raisins were really tasty, and so were the nuts. Yeah, we can do it.
Groundhog: Excellent. Next full moon then. And snacks for everyone, my treat.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Absence
I caught myself today looking for Angie's car when Big One and I got back from the grocery store. I knew that her car wouldn't be there, because there is no way that any of the siblings would drive the car over for fear that my children see it or that our neighbour Carmela see it. Carmela got Angie her first job in the cafeteria at the university here, and then they moved together to the seminary to manage the kitchen there. Carmela can't actually see that well and last night she fell down her front steps, but ended up with only a bruised hip. A good thing it was only a bruise, because on Sunday afternoon we're heading over to the Italian Canadian Club to celebrate her 89th birthday.
Zia Lucia always said that she felt sorry for Angie, but I don't think that's the right sentiment. Angie was a big girl and a bigger woman, but she wasn't unhappy and I don't think she needed anyone to feel sorry for her. Lucia felt sorry for her because Angie remained unmarried, but she was busy with the family and with a few friends, she loved having the kids right next door to the family house where she often visited.
When we miss something or someone, it is the actual presence or promise of presence that we miss. When we expect to see something and it isn't there, we "miss" it. When we first moved here from the east coast, my brain missed the visual interruption of the ocean, something I saw every day but to which I felt no emotional connection. Thus I "missed" it because my brain expected to see it, but not because I had any great desire to see it. Completely different this time though, where not seeing Angie's car made me sad and I obviously had an emotional response to the situation. It's like BF1 said, that sometimes she still looks for her dad; my mother's labrador continued to look for my stepfather after he died; Hub keeps hearing Angie's voice in his head.
Some things we don't realize we miss until they are back in our lives. Whenever I go out west I remember that the sky goes on forever, and that the earth and sky are supposed to meet at the horizon. One should be able to see the sky and the weather it's bringing from two or three hours away; one should be able to see the lights from a city long before one is anywhere near it, if driving along the highway at night. When I see all this, when I remember that my vista should be uninterrupted, then I realize that I've missed it. Your thoughts stretch further when you can see forever.
People who've been absent and then later reappear in your life are also greatly missed, until you catch up with everything and assume an everyday rapport. Even though BF2 is living elsewhere, we spent so much time catching up the 10 years that I missed him terribly at first. Things are easier now, we've managed a steady rhythm of communication. Similarly with BF1 and even with FFS, both of whom I miss but with both, steady communication smooths that out. When I talk to any of these people I am right with them, even though they are all at least a two hour plane ride away from here. I miss them but I am with them quite often.
The absence is something to get used to; you miss what you expect to see and then you have an emotional or a physical or an analytical response to it. Your brain tricks you and you see things that aren't there because you want to see them so badly .... or in turn, you see something or someone you don't want to see. This happened when I kept seeing my ex-husband after I'd left him: I saw him on the street and on campus even though when I got close to the people I was mistaking him for, there was no resemblance at all.
It's a long process, rearranging our minds to include the idea that someone isn't there any more.
Zia Lucia always said that she felt sorry for Angie, but I don't think that's the right sentiment. Angie was a big girl and a bigger woman, but she wasn't unhappy and I don't think she needed anyone to feel sorry for her. Lucia felt sorry for her because Angie remained unmarried, but she was busy with the family and with a few friends, she loved having the kids right next door to the family house where she often visited.
When we miss something or someone, it is the actual presence or promise of presence that we miss. When we expect to see something and it isn't there, we "miss" it. When we first moved here from the east coast, my brain missed the visual interruption of the ocean, something I saw every day but to which I felt no emotional connection. Thus I "missed" it because my brain expected to see it, but not because I had any great desire to see it. Completely different this time though, where not seeing Angie's car made me sad and I obviously had an emotional response to the situation. It's like BF1 said, that sometimes she still looks for her dad; my mother's labrador continued to look for my stepfather after he died; Hub keeps hearing Angie's voice in his head.
Some things we don't realize we miss until they are back in our lives. Whenever I go out west I remember that the sky goes on forever, and that the earth and sky are supposed to meet at the horizon. One should be able to see the sky and the weather it's bringing from two or three hours away; one should be able to see the lights from a city long before one is anywhere near it, if driving along the highway at night. When I see all this, when I remember that my vista should be uninterrupted, then I realize that I've missed it. Your thoughts stretch further when you can see forever.
People who've been absent and then later reappear in your life are also greatly missed, until you catch up with everything and assume an everyday rapport. Even though BF2 is living elsewhere, we spent so much time catching up the 10 years that I missed him terribly at first. Things are easier now, we've managed a steady rhythm of communication. Similarly with BF1 and even with FFS, both of whom I miss but with both, steady communication smooths that out. When I talk to any of these people I am right with them, even though they are all at least a two hour plane ride away from here. I miss them but I am with them quite often.
The absence is something to get used to; you miss what you expect to see and then you have an emotional or a physical or an analytical response to it. Your brain tricks you and you see things that aren't there because you want to see them so badly .... or in turn, you see something or someone you don't want to see. This happened when I kept seeing my ex-husband after I'd left him: I saw him on the street and on campus even though when I got close to the people I was mistaking him for, there was no resemblance at all.
It's a long process, rearranging our minds to include the idea that someone isn't there any more.
I Didn't Want to Come Back
We have returned from vacation. On vacation, life is idyllic and warm and sunny, the children do everything you tell them and are otherwise polite and well-behaved, the Okanagan wine is to your liking, the shopping is fantastic.
Our vacation was about 50% of the above, which is pretty good. The wine was lovely, every single one that we picked, shopping with my sister (who loved her new green shrug) went extremely well, the children were moderately well-behaved, the weather was good half the time, and acceptable the rest of the time. We had five days of this:
when we hung out at my dad's condo near Inveremere, BC. He bought it before Intrawest bought Panorama and before prices went mental. He threatens to sell it every once in a while, but thus far the haunting cries of "Noooooooo.....!!!!" have deterred him. That, and the fact that my stepmother loves it, keep him from putting it on the block. He wouldn't have to look far to find some buyers.
We returned home to the disaster area that this house was when we left it ... why didn't the cleaning fairies descend upon us in our hour of need .... and back to all the other regular life that we left behind. Except it isn't regular life, and all the funeral photo montages are still at the front door, and all of the thank-you cards still to do and the lawyer to visit and the fallout from that to deal with. Nothing negative, just many things to do.
In some respects, being unemployed at this time isn't such a bad thing. It gives me time to offer other people some help, and gives me time to think about what I'd like to keep doing as the time continues to roll along. I am feeling some motivation to consider another career if nothing happens with the job that I'm waiting to hear about (it's not like the region is littered with academic postings, and the longer I'm away the less I want to go back) then I've got some ideas of what I'd like to do.
What I don't want to do is clean up after mice! Besides coming home to a messy house, I find that we have new tenants, and they are highly annoying. I like creatures that live in the wild, and in the wild I leave them alone. I don't kill bugs outside unless they bite me, and I don't bug the squirrels or any other creatures. Inside my house it's another matter: things that are not humans or domesticated animals that are in my abode will be mortified at my earliest convenience if not sooner. (Very long aside: When I was an undergrad I took a course in Radiotracer Methodology, and the students in the course were from the three major areas of science: biology, chemistry and physics. Each lab team of three had one of each scientist, so that when we had to do things with animals or animal parts, the biologist would be in charge, the chemist was in charge of making solutions of the correct concentrations and the physicist was in charge of supergeekdom. We had to inject a rat with iodine-131 and then dissect it and find where the tracer had gone -- three guesses -- but prior to dissection the instruction in the lab manual was: Mortify the rat. The biologist, a lovely girl named Karen, had mortified several rats in her time, and injected the thing with whatever stuff it was that would send the little ratty to rat heaven. There were two repercussions to this, one being that a twisted mind would think of something else when told to mortify a rat--perhaps something along the lines of choke the chicken--and the second being that I had never considered the word mortify in that way before. Generally we refrain from the Middle English usage of words and tend toward the modern, being told all the time that language is a fluid thing, that we shouldn't hold on to previous definitions of words, the times, they are a'changin' after all. Still, I have retained a fascination for the use of the word mortify in such a manner, especially in a lab manual.)
I do not want the mousie in the house and thus a trap has been set, and I am waiting for the snap. I spent all day yesterday cleaning cupboards and throwing out food that the mousie might have touched, and washing everything down with a strong antiseptic solution, and generally being very put out and disgusted. By the end of the day I was really angry. I had a garden full of ripe red tomatoes after all, waiting to become tomato sauce, and lots and lots of things to do that were not cleaning cupboards.
So now I'm a day behind with everything, although my cupboards are now totally spotless. Mousie was there in the night but didn't trip the trap we had set, because we made it too easy for her. She will not be so successful with the next trap though, because I rigged it differently and she won't be able to get the stuff off it without a tug or other movement. I am not fond of the mousie and do not want to clean up after her any more, ever. We can't hear her in the walls or anything like that, so I don't know where she's living right now. With luck, she'll not be living there for long.
Our vacation was about 50% of the above, which is pretty good. The wine was lovely, every single one that we picked, shopping with my sister (who loved her new green shrug) went extremely well, the children were moderately well-behaved, the weather was good half the time, and acceptable the rest of the time. We had five days of this:
when we hung out at my dad's condo near Inveremere, BC. He bought it before Intrawest bought Panorama and before prices went mental. He threatens to sell it every once in a while, but thus far the haunting cries of "Noooooooo.....!!!!" have deterred him. That, and the fact that my stepmother loves it, keep him from putting it on the block. He wouldn't have to look far to find some buyers.
We returned home to the disaster area that this house was when we left it ... why didn't the cleaning fairies descend upon us in our hour of need .... and back to all the other regular life that we left behind. Except it isn't regular life, and all the funeral photo montages are still at the front door, and all of the thank-you cards still to do and the lawyer to visit and the fallout from that to deal with. Nothing negative, just many things to do.
In some respects, being unemployed at this time isn't such a bad thing. It gives me time to offer other people some help, and gives me time to think about what I'd like to keep doing as the time continues to roll along. I am feeling some motivation to consider another career if nothing happens with the job that I'm waiting to hear about (it's not like the region is littered with academic postings, and the longer I'm away the less I want to go back) then I've got some ideas of what I'd like to do.
What I don't want to do is clean up after mice! Besides coming home to a messy house, I find that we have new tenants, and they are highly annoying. I like creatures that live in the wild, and in the wild I leave them alone. I don't kill bugs outside unless they bite me, and I don't bug the squirrels or any other creatures. Inside my house it's another matter: things that are not humans or domesticated animals that are in my abode will be mortified at my earliest convenience if not sooner. (Very long aside: When I was an undergrad I took a course in Radiotracer Methodology, and the students in the course were from the three major areas of science: biology, chemistry and physics. Each lab team of three had one of each scientist, so that when we had to do things with animals or animal parts, the biologist would be in charge, the chemist was in charge of making solutions of the correct concentrations and the physicist was in charge of supergeekdom. We had to inject a rat with iodine-131 and then dissect it and find where the tracer had gone -- three guesses -- but prior to dissection the instruction in the lab manual was: Mortify the rat. The biologist, a lovely girl named Karen, had mortified several rats in her time, and injected the thing with whatever stuff it was that would send the little ratty to rat heaven. There were two repercussions to this, one being that a twisted mind would think of something else when told to mortify a rat--perhaps something along the lines of choke the chicken--and the second being that I had never considered the word mortify in that way before. Generally we refrain from the Middle English usage of words and tend toward the modern, being told all the time that language is a fluid thing, that we shouldn't hold on to previous definitions of words, the times, they are a'changin' after all. Still, I have retained a fascination for the use of the word mortify in such a manner, especially in a lab manual.)
I do not want the mousie in the house and thus a trap has been set, and I am waiting for the snap. I spent all day yesterday cleaning cupboards and throwing out food that the mousie might have touched, and washing everything down with a strong antiseptic solution, and generally being very put out and disgusted. By the end of the day I was really angry. I had a garden full of ripe red tomatoes after all, waiting to become tomato sauce, and lots and lots of things to do that were not cleaning cupboards.
So now I'm a day behind with everything, although my cupboards are now totally spotless. Mousie was there in the night but didn't trip the trap we had set, because we made it too easy for her. She will not be so successful with the next trap though, because I rigged it differently and she won't be able to get the stuff off it without a tug or other movement. I am not fond of the mousie and do not want to clean up after her any more, ever. We can't hear her in the walls or anything like that, so I don't know where she's living right now. With luck, she'll not be living there for long.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Tired
Everyone is so tired, and the real funeral part of the funeral doesn't even start until later today. We've had trouble getting hold of some people, and that has caused a great deal of stress, and we don't have all the pallbearers yet, and that's tough. The visitation and prayers are today and that will solve the pallbearer problem, because anyone who could help out will be by today. The flowers are ordered, the cemetery has been dealt with, the food is arranged. We're having a reception next door at the family home, outside after the internment, and while I've been orchestrating that, I had to find a manager to get things started while we are at the cemetery. All done. I have learned to delegate and I can do it without hesitation.
I get to sleep at night, and I wake up at 4:00a.m. and imagine various scenarios. While this is disturbing when it happens because I am of course imagining the worst possible things, it's good once I'm awake because I've already imagined the worst, so nothing terrible can really happen that I'm not prepared for. Usually things go much, much better than I ever dream they will. This is good. Having an overactive imagination is bad at the time, good in the end...
I'm tired, and not thinking quite as clearly as I should. Little things are making me angry, and any incompetency from anyone will set me off. Beware my wrath. Hub just asked me if he should stop at Picard's on the way home from dropping Katie at the doggie spa, and I said yes, of course, go and get the stuff we didn't get the other day. (Their chip-peanuts? sound horrifying but oh ye of little faith! they are spectacular. Never underestimate the power of Mennonites to hijack your tastebuds.) They don't have a website, but if you're in St. Jacobs or Morriston, stop there. You will be spoiled for peanut butter forever. My apologies if you're allergic.
The gist of this story is that when we stopped there on the weekend, Hub asked me something about picking up some stuff for our trip, except that I thought he meant the day trip to Niagara, and I gave him a look that said okay, you can get some but not too much, they'll make a mess, don't overdo it, OH MY GOD you want to what???!! buy snack food!!???
Apparently, this is a look that can actually stop time.
So we didn't get very much stuff from Picard's on Sunday, because I arrested the clocks and prevented any further explanation. Now that I've had it explained to me that the snacks are for when we're sitting at my dad's condo next week, on the balcony overlooking the lake and sipping some fine wine from the Okanagan.....well, now I have allowed the world to continue turning on its regularly-scheduled axis and peanut products will be purchased, in spades, and some will accompany us as gifts.
Really, I should use my powers for good, not evil.
There are a lot of things to do today, and we will see a lot of people who will break down and that will be okay. One thing about funerals with Italians: nobody holds back back on the emotions, and honestly? this is a good thing. It makes things easy. Nobody is uncomfortable about crying, and everyone does it, except for me that is, and I and my emotional responses to shocking incidents are topics for another day.
I keep thinking that I also have to pack up four people for a nine-day trip out west. I'm hoping we don't arrive with a bag full of t-shirts and toiletries, and no pants or toothbrushes, or god forbid, to arrive with only the shoes I'm wearing on the plane. Surely the space-time continuum will collapse upon itself if I don't have more than one pair of shoes for nine days.
I get to sleep at night, and I wake up at 4:00a.m. and imagine various scenarios. While this is disturbing when it happens because I am of course imagining the worst possible things, it's good once I'm awake because I've already imagined the worst, so nothing terrible can really happen that I'm not prepared for. Usually things go much, much better than I ever dream they will. This is good. Having an overactive imagination is bad at the time, good in the end...
I'm tired, and not thinking quite as clearly as I should. Little things are making me angry, and any incompetency from anyone will set me off. Beware my wrath. Hub just asked me if he should stop at Picard's on the way home from dropping Katie at the doggie spa, and I said yes, of course, go and get the stuff we didn't get the other day. (Their chip-peanuts? sound horrifying but oh ye of little faith! they are spectacular. Never underestimate the power of Mennonites to hijack your tastebuds.) They don't have a website, but if you're in St. Jacobs or Morriston, stop there. You will be spoiled for peanut butter forever. My apologies if you're allergic.
The gist of this story is that when we stopped there on the weekend, Hub asked me something about picking up some stuff for our trip, except that I thought he meant the day trip to Niagara, and I gave him a look that said okay, you can get some but not too much, they'll make a mess, don't overdo it, OH MY GOD you want to what???!! buy snack food!!???
Apparently, this is a look that can actually stop time.
So we didn't get very much stuff from Picard's on Sunday, because I arrested the clocks and prevented any further explanation. Now that I've had it explained to me that the snacks are for when we're sitting at my dad's condo next week, on the balcony overlooking the lake and sipping some fine wine from the Okanagan.....well, now I have allowed the world to continue turning on its regularly-scheduled axis and peanut products will be purchased, in spades, and some will accompany us as gifts.
Really, I should use my powers for good, not evil.
There are a lot of things to do today, and we will see a lot of people who will break down and that will be okay. One thing about funerals with Italians: nobody holds back back on the emotions, and honestly? this is a good thing. It makes things easy. Nobody is uncomfortable about crying, and everyone does it, except for me that is, and I and my emotional responses to shocking incidents are topics for another day.
I keep thinking that I also have to pack up four people for a nine-day trip out west. I'm hoping we don't arrive with a bag full of t-shirts and toiletries, and no pants or toothbrushes, or god forbid, to arrive with only the shoes I'm wearing on the plane. Surely the space-time continuum will collapse upon itself if I don't have more than one pair of shoes for nine days.
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