what I'm thinking and doing § what I'm listening to § what I'm reading
what I'm writing § retrospective: The Phonosnout
On the day that this entry should have been posted I was in Victoria at a big year 2000 party at my parents' celebrating my family's major year 2000 things: my parents' 50th wedding anniversary, my aunt's 75th birthday, my nephew's 18th birthday (that's legal majority in his province), and my upcoming book. I got to see some cousins I rarely see, see some of my parents' friends that I rarely see, spend time with my family, meet my three-old-year greatniece... and spend lots of time fiddling with my mother's computer and finally helping set up a brand-new iMac my father bought after seeing my brother-in-law and me struggle for hours trying to fix up an old computer for my mom.
Really, it was fun.
The adventure started with us being told, right when our plane was supposed to take off, that the cloud cover was too low, and that and that the plane was cancelled. Perhaps I should explain first that as a treat and bribe to travel over the holiday my mother had paid for us to fly up to Victoria on a float plane, which flies by sight rather than by instruments. Not only is the float plane ride fun in and of itself, but it is the quickest way to get to Victoria from Seattle: one hour from Lake Union (10 minutes drive from our house) to Victoria's Inner Harbour (10 minutes walk to my parents' house).
So what to do? We had missed the daily passenger ferry to Victoria (it leaves at 8:00) and the only alternatives would be to get down to the regular airport take a far more expensive flight and get in from the airport in Victoria--if there were spaces on any flights--or drive 3 hours across the border and take the ferry across in Canada (another 2 hours including the drive into town), at a time when the border crossing has been seriously slowed because of recent events.
There was another flight scheduled for three hours later, so we hung around to see if that flight could leave and take us with it. It couldn't. So there we were heading back home having arranged for a housesitter and turned down all New Year's invitations.
Well, it was a pleasant evening. Unfortunately news of our impending return scared our housesitter away, but we did have a lovely quiet evening just the two of us, which is how we prefer to celebrate New Years in the first place. We caught the float plane the next day, missing a couple of cousins I would loved to have seen, but still managing to get to the Big Party.
I'm so glad we were able to be there and see my parents, meet their puppies, see my sister, her husband, her two sons, her daughter and her daughter. To have us all in one house is a rare thing, and it likely won't happen again, at least in this configuration. A good way to start a new year.
So here we are, on the other side of January 1, 2000. Isn't it cool seeing the odometer changed? Isn't it just a little disappointing that the change wasn't more dramatic?
[NOTE: I'm hoping that this tables format makes the journal easier to read. Please let me know if your browser has problems with it or if you can suggest improvements to the coding. Thanks!]
last week's thinking and doing § next week's thinking and doing
Too busy to focus on any particular music, and I'm still working on my 1999 music report.
last week's listening § next week's listening
The main thing I read this week is Louise Erdrich's The Antelope Wife. After following her earlier books, I'd gotten a little tired of her writing and had stopping following it, but when this book won the World Fantasy Award over other books that I quite liked, I got curious, and borrowed this from the library.
It's a lovely, poetically written, individual novel. I read it slowly because it was so rich and yet spare in both language and characterization and subtle magic that I didn't want to miss anything. I'd like to read it again sometime to pick up on things I missed the first time through. For anyone who likes poetic novels, I highly recommend this one. I don't think it's particularly a hard read at all, just a rich one. And it of course was about some of my favourite things--mythology brought into contemporary life and generations of women's lives.
Also read Margot Beary-Isbert's The Wicked Enchantment, which was a quite delightful children's novel, translated from the German, about a young rebellious girl who helps save her town from an evil mayor. Not something that really sticks with me, but an enjoyable, well-told story.
last week's reading § next week's reading
I've been looking back over 1999's writing progress and planning and hoping for 2000's. Of course I'm hoping I'll do better (do better = writing more), especially with the Damn Novel.
I'm pleased to note that I sent out 14 poetry submissions, and had 10 poems accepted. Those are pretty nice returns. The article I was working on last week was submitted by email, and accepted by return email, so I'm happy about that (it was commissioned, but the editor still might not have liked it). It will be coming out in the spring.
I'm also embarrassed to note that I didn't send out a single story this year, though I wrote two new ones.
So I have much to be pleased about and much to kick myself about as well. Isn't that always the way?
last week's writing § next week's writing
About the Phonosnout
481. Another week
Another week gone by, only about two more until Paul's back, but he'll on be here for a day or two, the is going away again! How dare he? Walked Lady today and had a really good talk to God. (Nice for a change.) Quite a gew hassles got worked out, and my mind has been clear out. Problems? They'll work out. [Quote omitted from some inspirational group rhyming problem with solve them about how God can.]
482. Only an afternoon
Only an afternoon at The Seed, but somehow happy! P.T.L.!!  He's good and blesses. Crazy day full of crazy city people. Life and love, God is here.
483. I believe
I believe that whatever happened it wasn't true. Y'hear? That's all there is there ain't no more. Life? Blackness in sunshine. (Run!) Got to 'escape! S'there. A babble of words that mean nothing to anyone but me.  Paul come back!
484. In much sadness
In much sadness i missed the last ride home. I must remain where i was until someone comes for me. Perhaps someone will take pity on me and send me. Perhaps i'll sit on the curb an cry every so sadly. Love? Where does it bleed? Where does it belong? [Quote from Larry Norman omitted about finding a saviour.]
485. Haven't heard
Oh, Phono! Haven't heard from paul in a week. Sad me? Yes! He phoned The Seed last Saturday, but i missed it, it was on a (short!) walk. Pain! He said he'd call again Sunday or Monday, but he didn't. Rat! You phone! Immediately! (Please?)
486. Time to get happy
S'a week or over since i wrote that. He (and Phil) phoned Seed last saturday, then Paul phoned his parents on Sunday (i was there and talked to him for a second!!) He's on his way home now by bus. Paul who? Who's coming home? The Paul i only partly remember? (My memory is not accurate with people, only a little better with incidents.) A Paul, or New-Paul that has grown (away from me?) Have i grown away from him? And then to have to say goodbye again on Sunday...
487. Will it be
Will it be like it was? Will it be new? Will we have to start all over again? Or will it be the end? On the phone he sounds so distant--and my phone-paranoia worsens. I babble. (What a greeting?) Even my letters were terrible. I'm terrible. Maybe i should just forget it. S'there. (my stomach hurts).
488. Back (and gone again)
Paul's been back and now he's gone again. It was brief and beautiful and confusing and i know one thing for sure, that i'm hooked. (I think i've hooked him too, he said so). Would be nice. It is nice. But i miss him more this time.
489. Talking too long
I've been talking too long about Paul. I hope i haven't been boring you, Phono. I hope y'onderstand. Would be nice. I just like to talk about Paul a little (a lot?) He's nice to talk about (and to). In fact, i'm more than a little obsessed. (I guessed.)
490. Time to say
Time--to say that i don't like time. It either drags, or i don't have half enough of it. I wish time was malleable, but i'm glad it isn't. Sometimes i need to fill my time, but sometimes... time also gets repetitive. (As do we all.)
1. PTL is short for Praise The Lord (I know, I know).
2. The me who wrote the journal, not the one who transcribes it now. I don't have a clue what I was talking about.
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