I can't breathe

The provincial government of Ontario is legislating the living fuck right out of the public smoking issue. Meanwhile, government at the federal level (environment), provincial level (health, highways), and municipal level (public health, transit, parking) stand around doing nothing as we breathe disgustingly polluted and filthy air for the third day in a row.

I can always choose not to enter a restaurant or bar where I'll be faced with second-hand cigarette smoke. I can't always choose to flee my city when the air becomes a toxic soup of chemicals.

NOW Magazine published a great article last summer with 10 ideas on what we can do to fight smog. Give it a read. If you need me, I'll be sucking on a tailpipe trying to breathe.

good morning Toronto

Here's how some of us had to get to work today--with a smog advisory in place from Environment Canada:



To the union leaders of the Toronto Transit Commission: whatever public sympathy you had was already hanging by a thread. This morning's illegal walkout just ran that thread through bleach.



Meanwhile, I'm going to try and find one of these for the walk home:

Happy Birthday Stevie!

I've loved her voice for almost as long as I can remember... from the light tone of her lead vocal in Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" (1975) to her lower register in later solo work like "Trouble in Shangri-La" (2001). I had a hard time deciding which song to clip for this post. I decided on "Whenever I Call You Friend" (recorded in 1978 with Kenny Loggins).






for more on Stevie, click here

hunk

For your appreciation... inspired by the last post... Nat's husband...

APPRECIATE HIM!

the Chicks are back!

HMV released the new Dixie Chicks album today. (I had the date marked in my calendar... couldn't wait to buy it!)

I had time tonight to play the first seven songs, and the group's hellish experiences in 2003 are starkly evident.



From "Lubbock or Leave it" (Robison/Maguire/Maines/Campbell):

Throwin' stones from the top of your rock
Thinkin' no one can see
The secrets you hide behind
Your southern hospitality

But my favourite lyric is from the first single, "Not Ready To Make Nice" (Robison/Maguire/Maines/Wilson):

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don't mind sayin'
It's a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter sayin' that I better
Shut up and sing or my life will be over

I love my Chicks!

Happy Birthday, Queen Victoria

This Cagaydian is glad he had a holiday today in your honour. And he tries not to immediately associate your reign with the "ring" named after your late husband; rather, he pictures pretty Victorian houses in Cabbagetown with lilacs in full bloom.

I had a great week. I exercised five times--a frequency I haven't seen in years--and feel a lot better. I lost a pound, but losing weight isn't my primary focus. (Indeed, I should hope that my activities* built up some muscle mass, thereby reducing the net loss of weight.) I'm sleeping better, more alert in the morning, eating less, and not feeling so guilty about "wasting" the gym membership.

Oh, and if you haven't seen the movie in the picture, I highly recommend it.

* swimming, resistance training, cardio, swimming, resistance training

taking a week off

During a nap yesterday at my parents' house, I woke up with a pang of anxiety and realized how much money I'm wasting on my gym membership (considering that I never go). A quick check in my 2005 planner confirms that my last visit to the gym was exactly six months ago today. (Blogging started about 8.5 months ago.)

This means I've wasted $545.70. Something's gotta give. So, for a week, I'm going to attempt to cut blogging out of my life and insert exercise in its place. With any luck, I'll be able to reintroduce blogging once I'm burning fuel more efficiently and sleeping more soundly.

golden horseshoe meets the rustbelt

I checked three sources (wikipedia, a U.S. Census Bureau map, and Business Week) and it would seem fair to conclude that Indianapolis is either in or on the fringes of the rust belt.

On Wednesday, indygirl listed a miscellany of facts... among them:

FACT: If you blog, there is a 90% chance that you either live in Toronto or Indianapolis.

Let's all try and think of some other similarities between Toronto and Indianapolis!

both are capitals (provincial/state)

Indy has hoosiers; Toronto has hosers (JAJAJAJAJA!)

both cities have NBA teams

Here's the biggest difference I can see:

Indianapolis is just about dead-centre in the middle of the state; Toronto thinks it's in the dead-centre of Ontario (much to the annoyance of people in other parts of the province)

what I feel like today

I didn't sleep very well lastnight. Or the two nights before that. I'm so overtired that I'm slurring my words and tripping over my own feet. It took me two and a half hours to get myself to work this morning--only to find that I couldn't unlock the door. (I had brought my laundry card instead of my i.d. card...)

All... systems... shutting...
down...

Happy Birthday Auntie

Today is the birthday of Your Judgemental Aunt. Here's a little song for you, bizzatch! ("Happy Birthday" by Concrete Blonde)

Outside in the hall there’s a catfight
It’s just after midnight
I guess I’ll be alright
I’m laid out on the floor
Drunk and poor
How much longer how much more?

Rock me to sleep
Strong and deep
The screaming cats they give me the creeps
But aside from all that I feel no pain
Staring up at the ceiling stain

Neon in the window
Sirens far away
News on the radio
Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday

They’re at it again next door
This whole floor I swear
They’re out to drive me crazy
But not right now I’m high as a cloud
I’m soft and gray and lazy
Smokin' out the window
Feelin' far away
News on the radio
Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday

Fly me out the window
Somewhere far away
News on the radio
Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday
Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday

clarification: I am not a MTF transsexual

I am not planning on having this done:




I loved their movie characters, but I do not aspire to be one:




And despite a certain "Swiffering" incident in 2003...




...I have no designs on becoming:

out the bus window

This morning, I looked out the window of the bus and saw a beautiful Mercedes C-class sedan in the next lane. I studied the graceful curve of the rear door frame (where it meets the C pillar)... it seemed almost organic. Divinely designed. The sun glinted off the deep metallic paint...

I don't know why, but I was instantly reminded of a trip to Sandbanks Provincial Park in the summer of 2001. I was with my (then) boyfriend, and we didn't drive there in a Mercedes.

Pieces of Enchanted, Tragic April

I've never really liked April. Specifically, I don't like spring--but it manifests itself as an anti-April bias.

The light in April can be really harsh: you have the sunlight angle of August, without the softening effects of foliage. The ground can be muddy, and it reveals all sorts of winter-buried treasure like dog poo and corpses of small animals.

In university, I detested April because of the stress of final exams and overdue papers. Later in life, I got fired from a job, and lost two grandparents--all in a 10-day stretch of April.

Easter often falls in April. As a child, I perceived the holiday as a big disconnect: we're observing the death of Christ by painting eggs in beautiful pastel colours and eating chocolate.

I'm always glad when it's over.

see also:
"The tragic month of April" Wikipedia entry