Knitnut.net. Watch my life unravel...
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Posted by Zoom! on October 23, 2012, at 10:23 am |
 They said it was going to be a drab autumn, on account of the drought, but it was actually quite dramatic.
My friend Nancy says every autumn has its own dominant colour, and I think this year it was orange. I don’t know if there actually were more orange trees this year or if I was just more inspired to photograph the orange ones.
 Autumn is such a bittersweet time of year. It’s so stunning and gorgeous as it ripens to the peak of perfection, but at some level I always dread the peak because I know how brief it will be. The first blast of wind or rain strips those trees naked, and then everything is stark and grey and cold. (Except we usually do get a brief respite in Indian Summer, which helps psychologically.)
 I feel kind of sad for people who live in places where there aren’t distinctive seasons. Here in Canada, winter is grueling, but it’s a small price to pay for spring. We live completely different lives in the summer than in the winter. Part of the reason we appreciate autumn so much is because we don’t have time to take it for granted.
We change everything with the seasons: our wardrobes, food, drinks, activities, even our decor. And it seems the transition is always welcome, no matter which season we’re moving out of or into. We all seem to love that first magical sparkly snowfall in December, even if we almost universally hate winter by February.
 Autumn’s almost over, but winter’s not here yet. Some of my favourite trees are naked already. November is the only month that seems to fall between seasons.
We’ll be moving into the cozy time of year soon. Soups and stews and sweaters and quilts and red wine and curling up on the couch with a good book, a hot cup of something, and a warm cat.
As soon as all the leaves have fallen, I’ll be ready to embrace that.
  
Posted by Zoom! on October 21, 2012, at 1:10 pm |
There’s this three-storey apartment building at the corner of Caldwell and Merivale, on the edge of the Experimental Farm, right by the path where I go for walks. There are nine balconies facing the Farm, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I catch glimpses of people living their lives.
There used to be an old woman who lived on the second floor. She dressed in the same clothes every day: a shapeless black house dress and a worn grey sweater. She wore thick hose and sensible black shoes. She was stooped over and her old grey hair was always pulled back in a bun.
I imagined she was an immigrant from some eastern European country and that she still spoke very little English even after all these years, and that she was a widow and poor, and that her middle-aged children didn’t visit often. These things may or may not have been true.
Her life seemed to revolve around the makeshift clotheslines she’d tied out on her balcony. Whenever I passed by, she was hanging items on the line, or taking them off, or checking to see if they were dry yet. Mostly dish towels and wash cloths, but sometimes small garments. Nothing too personal, mind you. One time I smiled up at her and said hello, and she scowled back at me.
She’s not there anymore. The day the makeshift clothesline came down, I knew she was gone.
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Also on the second floor, but in the apartment to the right of the old washerwoman’s, I once saw an angry middle-aged woman with bleached blond hair throwing power tools off her balcony into the back yard. There was a drill, and a circular saw and a chain saw. She was moving fast and hard and she wasn’t just dropping these things off the balcony, she was hurling them. I imagined the tools belonged to her good-for-nothing, two-timing, free-loading boyfriend.
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This morning, on the third floor, directly above the old washerwoman’s balcony, I saw an old man throwing things off his balcony into the back yard: cushions and mats and a dog bed. And then I saw him pick up the little white dog and move towards the edge of the balcony and I felt like my heart was being squeezed by a panicky fist. I was just about to shout “No, don’t do it!” when I saw the man cradle the little dog in his arms and kiss him on the head. I still don’t know why he threw the cushions and mats and dog bed off the balcony, but I was relieved the dog didn’t follow.
 There are birthdays today! My niece’s daughter, Chelsea, is three years old! Here’s a picture of her wearing the outfit I made her for her birthday. I made this. Can you believe it? I don’t like to brag, but I don’t often impress myself this much. (Chelsea named the toy zebra Marty, by the way.)
Also, it’s my friend Astrid’s birthday. We’ve been friends since high school, even though she only lived in Canada for that one year. We had our first conversation on her 16th birthday. She turned to me on the bus and said, “Today is my birthday.” And that was the beginning of a lifelong friendship.
And it’s MikaArt’s birthday!
Happy birthday MikaArt, Astrid and Chelsea!
Posted by Zoom! on October 19, 2012, at 11:25 am |
Last night I attended a free session at our local mental health facility. It was called Getting the Low Down on Substance Use, and was presented by Michael Coughlin, a registered nurse with the Royal’s Substance Use and Concurrent Disorders program.
I was interested because I have a young friend who uses heroin. He was kicked out of the 28-day program last year for using drugs but he speaks highly of the program and its staff, and says he’ll be back someday. I consider this a very high endorsement.
Coughlin started out by saying that this session was about the addict, not about the people connected to the addict. If you are being affected by someone with an addiction it can be very frustrating, and you should get help for yourself.
Here are some of the things Coughlin said:
- The Royal subscribes to the Final Common Pathway Model, which holds that addiction to chemicals is an end-stage and that there is no single cause of addiction. Only a relatively small proportion of the population is vulnerable to addiction; others can use the same substances without becoming addicted. This vulnerability originates from biological, psychological and/or social factors, but results in a permanently re-wired brain. This permanently re-wired brain is the disease.
- Age is a critical factor in addiction. If you take drugs when you’re 14 or 15, while your brain is still developing, you are far more vulnerable to addiction.
- Addiction is a disease. This doesn’t absolve the addict from responsibility for his or her own behaviour. Similarly, diabetes is a disease often caused by lifestyle choices, yet the diabetic is still responsible for their behaviour.
- One of the hallmarks of addiction is frequently “a breathtaking lack of judgment.”
- Direct confrontation of addicts, especially when it’s coming from anger or frustration, is counter-productive, and often results in further entrenchment of the addiction.
- The term “concurrent disorders” means different things. In Ontario it means having an addiction in conjunction with a serious mental illness. Approximately 3 to 4%Â of the general population has concurrent disorders, and about half of people with an addiction have a mental illness. It is imperative that both disorders get treated together.
- 35% of intravenous drug users commit suicide.
 The Stages of Change model outlines the stages of recovery: contemplation, preparation, action, and maintenance. (Pre-contemplation is the stage before the person wants to quit.) At any one of these stages, the addict is vulnerable to relapse, which is a normal part of the process and should not be regarded as failure.
- The goal of the Royal’s program is to help the individual move through these stages to achieve abstinence and improved health, wellness and quality of life.
- The recovering addict needs a lot of support in the early stages of recovery to maintain structure, make self-care a priority, manage mental health issues, re-integrate into the community, and avoid relapse. (Apparently we only have a tenth of a second to respond to an impulse, and most of us aren’t very good at consistently making good choices, whether we’re addicts or not.)
Upon completing his presentation, Mr. Coughlin introduced two people who have successfully been through the program.
Gord is 58 years old and has been abstinent for 27 months. He struck me as a thoughtful and insightful man with a lot of history, a subtle sense of humour, and a touching mix of humility and pride.
He spoke about living with the stigma of addiction – he hadn’t really cared what other people thought of him, but he found his own self-loathing painful.
Toward the end of his active addiction, preparing to use alcohol or drugs was the highlight of his day. The feeling of anticipation was the highest he was going to get. (After awhile, drugs don’t deliver the euphoria they did in the beginning; addiction keeps you in constant pursuit of an increasingly elusive high.)
Gord got kicked out of the Royal’s program because he couldn’t stay sober. He kept relapsing and coming back until he succeeded.
He attributes his eventual success to “doing things I didn’t want to do.” He had to suspend belief in his own addicted thoughts and feelings, as they were killing him. A big part of staying sober involved learning how to take care of himself. Simple things, like eating and sleeping, which he had always resisted.
April has been sober for 21 months, and I mistook her for one of the counselors at first. She seems genuinely happy now but says she used to be emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. She drank and used drugs to cope with the bad things in life and to celebrate the good things. Alcohol was her only coping skill; learning new coping skills was critical to her success.
Then there was a quick question-and-answer session, and the event wrapped up.
All in all, it was an worthwhile way to spend an evening and I’ll keep my eyes open for other interesting events at the Royal.
Posted by Zoom! on October 17, 2012, at 10:34 am |
I had the best birthday EVER. It involved three whole days of getting spoiled. There was an excess of gluttony. GC made me french toast with a mountain of fruit, and he took me out for dinner at The Buzz, and my son took me out for dinner at GuadalaHarry’s. Also there was cake and wine and sangria and there was much squawking and cackling and whistling from the peanut gallery during the rousing rendition of Happy Birthday to You. There were tons of happy birthday messages from far-flung friends on facebook, too.
GC gave me an iPad for my birthday! An iPad! I’ve always wanted one (well, ever since they were invented) and I already love it. The quest for quality apps has begun. My favourite app so far is Flipboard, which Deb recommended to me. Last night I watched the presidential debate on my iPad in Flipboard. Also, my Bejewelled Blitz game has improved dramatically since acquiring the iPad. I played just nine games and already set two new high scores. (For those of you who play Bejewelled with me, all I can say is from now on I’m a force to be reckoned with.)
 GC also gave me some very special gifts that were handmade by one of my blog readers, Mikatana. One day he read a comment of hers, clicked on her link, and found himself on her Etsy shop, Mikaart. He saw that she made things I would love, so he placed an order for a Tree of Love Bird card and a felted bird brooch. And because it was GC, she very kindly sent him an extra card and a felted bird brooch for himself, along with a sweet note. (Thank you, Mika. We wore our brooches out to birthday dinner. We love them, and the cards too.)
 All in all, this was the kind of birthday that is worth getting older for! I feel very lucky.
Posted by Zoom! on October 15, 2012, at 5:49 pm |
Thanks to everybody who entered my sock contest!
I entered all your names into RandomPicker, and RandomPicker randomly picked a winner.
And that winner is……
SID!
Congratulations, Sid! Sounds like the timing is right, since you’re contemplating giving up your barefootedness. Please send your snail mail address to zoomery at gmail dot com, and I’ll send you pictures of a few pairs to choose from.
As for the rest of you, I wish I could give each and every one of you a pair of socks! Maybe you can cheer yourselves up by going on a little sock shopping spree over at Moxymaus.
Posted by Zoom! on October 15, 2012, at 9:53 am |
 Astronaut Love Triangle was brilliant and superb and I love them more each time I see them. They’ve added a couple more pieces to their repertoire (I especially liked the Roller Derby Girls) and they’ve modified at least one piece to reflect changes in the composition of the band (the lovely, irreplaceable Aggie has moved on to other creative pursuits).
Despite my outrageously high expectations for this show, I was not disappointed. The only thing I’d change about Astronaut Love Triangle is that they’d play more often and have longer shows. But those are the same complaints everybody has always had about Astronaut Love Triangle. If you bring it up, the band members just shrug philosophically and smile those enigmatic smiles of theirs.
It’s impossible to describe what the Triangle does, so I won’t even try. You have to see it yourself, in person, live. But it’s unique and brilliant and if you’re smart and have a sense of humour, you’ll love it.
Not only are they talented and witty, they have talented, witty friends who collaborate with them.
The evening started out with a set by the incomparable Sally Robinson, who combines really good original bluesy/boogie-woogie music with a sparkling stage presence and a lively, spontaneous sense of humour. Nobody does audience rapport better than Sally. My favourite piece was Clarinet Players. I’ve seen her perform a couple of times before, with the Toasted Westerns and the Herb Girls, but it was GC’s first time. He was smitten! He bought her CD and as soon as we got home he was at the computer, googling her.
 After Sally’s performance was the inimitable Astronaut Love Triangle, followed by two sets of Elizabeth Riley Band with Sally on the bass. (And actually the whole set thing was kind of fluid, as the bands mingled and overlapped for parts of each set.)
Elizabeth Riley Band is an all-woman band with nobody named Elizabeth Riley in it. They’re wonderful and eclectic and a lot of fun. They play a mix of original and cover songs, and everything from love songs to hard-hitting social justice songs about Spirit Sisters (missing and murdered Aboriginal women on the Highway of Tears) and Raymond Lahey (child pornography bishop). Despite the heavy content of some of their material, they manage, through their personalities and humour, to keep the mood upbeat. My favourite piece was a Rae Spoon song called Come On Forest Fire.
The evening was set at Cafe Michel-Ange, a warm and cozy coffee-roasting coffee house. It’s on Laurel Avenue, off Breezehill, and you’ll have to make a special point of going because you’ll never end up there by accident. It’s tucked away in an obscure back pocket of Little Italy.
It was a very special evening. You can see some pictures here.
P.S. The sock draw will be held later today. Check back in to find out if you won!
Posted by Zoom! on October 12, 2012, at 10:08 am |
 Yesterday I watched a nasty old lady beat my swap box to death with her cane.
Rosie and I were out for an afternoon walk in the Enchanted Forest. As we rounded the curve in the path, I saw the tree upon which the swap box lives. And there was an old lady viciously smashing the swap box with her cane while her little dog waited patiently nearby. Even after the swap box was on the ground in pieces, she continued to smash it, and as I got closer I could hear her cursing “Goddamn idiots!”
My first thought was that this was most fortuitous from a blogging perspective. We all knew the swap box wouldn’t last; it was just a matter of time until someone destroyed it. But who could have imagined I’d actually get to see who it was and witness her doing it and talk to her about it? In the twelve days since we installed it, I’ve probably spent an average of a minute a day at the swap box. What were the odds that I would just happen to be there at the very same minute she just happened to be there destroying it?
If I’d come along five minutes later, I’d have found the swap box smashed on the ground. I’d have probably guessed it was kids, or maybe an angry young man. Never in a hundred years would I have suspected a little old dog-walking lady of destroying my swap box.
As I approached, she looked up from beating the swap box and our eyes met.
“Is something the matter?” I asked.
“It’s just stupid goddamn kids and — never mind, nothing’s the matter,” she muttered.
“Why did you wreck it?” I asked.
“Stupid kids believe in fairies,” she said. “This is is one of the last stands of red pines in Canada, and they put metal screws in this tree because they believe in fairies and magic. They have no respect for Mother Nature!”
 And then she shuffled off with her little dog.
One thing about me is I always consider the possibility that the other person might be right. Could it be true that this was one of the last stands of red pine trees, and that putting screws in a tree would kill it? Even if there were lots of red pines, I’d feel terrible about killing one.
GC and IÂ had briefly discussed, immediately before installing the swap box, whether it could harm the tree. My thinking was that people put screws in trees all the time – for birdhouses, bird feeders, hammocks, etc. Trees are big and strong and hardy and they can handle it.
But still. What if she was right?
 I took a picture of the swap box’s corpse. And I took a couple of pictures of the old lady and her dog, walking away. She turned around.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking a picture,” I said.
“You have no right to take a picture of me without my permission,” she said. “I could have you charged.”
We argued about that for a couple of minutes, and ended up within conversational distance of each other again.
“I bet you didn’t know that about the trees, did you?” she asked.
“No,” I admitted. “And maybe the person who put up that box didn’t know either.”
“Stupid children,” she spat. “They believe in goddamn fairies and think they can do whatever they want.”
“What makes you think they believe in fairies?” I asked.
“I asked the children, the ones who put up that stupid box. I was here when they were putting it up. They said fairies left stuff in the box for them. Goddamn idiots.”
“Actually,” I said, “I put up the box.”
She looked startled.
“You lied about the children, and you lied about the fairies,” I said. “So maybe you’re lying about the trees, too.”
“I didn’t lie,” she said, “I never said the children put up the box. I just saw them looking in it, and they told me it was fairies.”
“You’re still lying,” I said.
“I’ve had enough,” she said, and turned to walk away.
“You’re just a nasty old lady,” I called after her.
Which, as we both knew, was true, although I admit it wasn’t very nice of me to point it out.
Anyway. The first thing I did when I got home was google the number of red pines in Canada, and if screws damage trees. Apparently there are lots of red pines. And screws damage future lumber, by altering the grain, but a healthy tree can easily withstand a few screws.
I’m happy I got to witness the entire life cycle of a swap box, from creation to installation to destruction. Elmaks would have liked that. And I’m glad I saw her destroying it. This way I know it was just one miserable old lady doing it for an odd combination of reasons that included loving trees and hating children. Hundreds of other people saw the swap box and either ignored it or had some fun with it, so my faith in human nature was bolstered overall by the whole experience.
(But isn’t it interesting that she and I shared the same instinct to blame children? She blamed children for putting up the box until I told her it was me, and I would have blamed children for destroying it if I hadn’t seen her doing it. I bet kids get blamed for all kinds of things they didn’t do, because adults can’t imagine other adults doing these things.)
Posted by Zoom! on October 11, 2012, at 10:33 am |
 I won the grand prize in the MoxyMaüs draw! 62 socks! Every pair of socks in their collection! I’m celebrating my good fortune by having a little contest of my own.
MoxyMaüs is a local sock company. The socks are designed here in Ottawa, but made in Turkey, which, apparently, is the Sock-Making Capital of the World.
My grandfather’s best friend owned a sock company in Montreal. I think it was called Bonnie Belle. Every year he would give my sister and me several pairs of socks for Christmas, but I didn’t appreciate them. As a little kid, I thought socks were just about the most boring gift imaginable.
But I’m not a little kid anymore, and MoxyMaüs socks are anything but boring!
 GC bought two pairs for himself at Westfest a couple of years ago, but his son liked them so much he gave them to him. And I gave a pair to my brother for his birthday earlier this year. That’s how much these socks rock – they even make good presents.
A few years ago, GC and I went to see the local CBC radio celebrities perform their reading of A Christmas Carol. They were all dressed up to the nines, but what stuck in my mind is Michael Bardwaj’s green socks and how they added so much style and personality to his suit.
 Even somebody like me, who doesn’t even attempt to do fashion, can get a major style boost from socks like these.
I’ve blogged before about how hard I am on my socks. I think it has something to do with the combination of walking a lot and having toenails made of diamonds. My socks tend to get holes in the toes within about three wearings. Even my shoes get holes in the toes.
 There are two schools of thought here. One is that I should buy expensive socks because they’ll last longer. The other is that I should buy cheap socks, because I’m going to be throwing them out in a few weeks. I tend to subscribe to the second school of thought. I did buy more expensive socks once, and they lasted a bit longer than cheap socks, but not enough to justify the difference in price.
Anyway. When I found out that I was the grand prize winner of the MoxyMaüs contest, I was ecstatic, because I love new socks and this is one of those little luxuries I would never have bought for myself because of the aforementioned toenail problem.
So I trimmed my toenails and filed them down, and waited for the big box of socks to arrive.
 I can’t yet speak to their durability since none of them have been worn more than once. But I can say I love them and they’ve improved the quality of my life . They’re comfortable, fun and classy all at the same time, and whenever I look at my feet, I feel happy. I don’t think you can ask a whole lot more of socks than that.
 I’d like to share a little bit of my good fortune with you. Everybody who leaves a comment on this post before Monday October 15th will be entered into a random draw for a brand-new unopened pair of socks from my bottomless box of MoxyMaüs socks. The draw will take place on Monday, which is my birthday!
Posted by Zoom! on October 10, 2012, at 9:16 am |
I tried to be philosophical when I got home from my walk yesterday morning and discovered the Internet was down.
“I’ll work on my sewing project,” I thought. But first I needed to find out the average waist size of a three year old, as that was the next step in my sewing project. How did we figure out stuff like that before the Internet? Did we actually go outside and measure three-year-olds?
All in all, I think I did admirably well without the internet, which was down for about eight hours. But I missed a lot of world news. For example, some guy died yesterday after winning a cockroach-eating contest in Florida. First prize was a female bald python, which will now go to his estate. They’re waiting for the autopsy results to determine the cause of death. There’s a video of him eating the cockroaches. My favourite part of the whole story was this comment: “I’m sure this guy was a wonderful, kind, giving man who loved life and performed many selfless acts for others; not the filthy, obnoxious scuzzbag he appears to be.”
 GC and I had a great Thanksgiving weekend. In addition to the traditional turkey feast, we went up to the Gatineaus to immerse ourselves in the Fall colours, which were absolutely spectacular. The experts were predicting a drab fall because of the drought, but I’d say this is one of the most vibrant and colourful years ever. There was a traffic jam of people who had the same brilliant idea as us. Colourful bumper-to-bumper cars snaking through nature. We parked the car and went hiking for an hour or so. Weirdly, the trees inside the forest weren’t nearly as colourful as the trees on the edges of the forest. Mostly green. Still, it was a great hike and the trail took us through the Protestant Burial Grounds. I love old cemeteries.
We did wonder about the typo on this headstone, though. Did the family even notice that the name was misspelled? Did they just kind of shrug it off like it was no big deal? Did they at least get a discount?
There were some moderately famous people buried there too, like Budge Crawley (of Crawley Films – they made the movie Janis, about Janis Joplin, which I saw 17 times) and Graham Spry, “social activist, public servant, and unremitting advocate of a national broadcasting service for Canada.”
 This weekend was terrific, but I’m even more excited about the coming weekend. If you’re looking for something to do on Saturday night, I highly highly highly recommend this event. If I could only see one show this year, it would be this one. This is a very rare performance by the witty and charming space punk band, Astronaut Love Triangle, and as an extra added bonus they’re playing with their friends The Elizabeth Riley Band and Sally Robinson. It’s going to be so much fun. You should go.
Posted by Zoom! on October 5, 2012, at 10:59 am |
I’ve been following the sex assault trial of Steve Desjourdy, the Ottawa police officer who cut off the t-shirt and bra of a young woman while she was pinned to the cell block floor by several other officers. This case made headlines a few years ago, and I blogged about it more than once.
The young woman was charged with assaulting a police officer, but the original judge dismissed the charges because of the conduct of the officers, calling their behaviour malicious and the charges a travesty. He made the cell block video publicly available, and we all saw what those officers did to that young woman. Sgt. Desjourdy was subsequently charged with sexually assaulting the young woman, and is now on trial.
It’s not the first time Ottawa police have assaulted someone and then charged them with assault. But it doesn’t usually backfire so spectacularly on them like this.
It’ll be interesting to see how it plays out.
Desjourdy is represented by Michael Edelson, the defence lawyer of choice among those who are in serious trouble and can afford him. Edelson represented Michael Cowpland (insider trading), mayor Larry O’Brien (influence peddling), Bishop Raymond Lahey (child pornography), and Colonel Russell Williams (serial murder), as well as most police officers charged with criminal offenses in Eastern Ontario.
I know that our criminal justice system is based on the presumption of innocence, and this is a crucial and desirable thing. But while this principle may be the foundation upon which our system is built, the implementation of it has become corrupted over time by the influence of money.
It’s no secret that if you’re well-off you’re far more likely to be satisfied with the outcome of your trial than if you’re poor. A good lawyer can go the extra mile to get you some kick-ass justice. He or she can invest more time and money and exploit more loopholes, and if you’re lucky, even make mountains of evidence disappear by having it declared inadmissible. In the end, your verdict has less to do with your innocence or guilt than with the quantity and quality of legal representation you can afford.
Edelson claims not to represent guilty people, because everybody is innocent until proven guilty. But in the real world, outside of the courthouse, guilt is far more than a legal concept. It’s a matter of fact. And in that world, Edelson most certainly does represent his share of guilty people, including child rapists, murderers and terrorists. Defending the guilty is a major part of what defense lawyers do, and it’s a little disingenuous to deny it or play semantic games with it.
Here’s a snippet from Edelson’s website:
“Sexual assault is any unwanted touching for a sexual purpose. Even an allegation of sexual assault can change your life forever. Where the accusation is made by a family member or person under your care, the effects of a criminal charge can be devastating. We understand what is at stake and will do everything to defend your good name and reputation.”
(Whether you did it or not, and with no consideration for the devastating effects on the victim, and with no respect for her good name and reputation. We’ll just agree to pretend you didn’t do it and then do everything in our power to help you get away with it.)
Anyway. My beef with the criminal justice system is that a lot of money can buy a lot of so-called justice. Money talks and money walks. If you can buy your way out of trouble by hiring the best lawyer, that’s great for you, but it’s not justice.
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They said it was going to be a drab autumn, on account of the drought, but it was actually quite dramatic.
Autumn is such a bittersweet time of year. It’s so stunning and gorgeous as it ripens to the peak of perfection, but at some level I always dread the peak because I know how brief it will be. The first blast of wind or rain strips those trees naked, and then everything is stark and grey and cold. (Except we usually do get a brief respite in Indian Summer, which helps psychologically.)
I feel kind of sad for people who live in places where there aren’t distinctive seasons. Here in Canada, winter is grueling, but it’s a small price to pay for spring. We live completely different lives in the summer than in the winter. Part of the reason we appreciate autumn so much is because we don’t have time to take it for granted.
Autumn’s almost over, but winter’s not here yet. Some of my favourite trees are naked already. November is the only month that seems to fall between seasons.
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