Perfect Happiness is….

…reading a book you love, glancing at the time and realizing that you still have lots of reading time left.

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How I Bought My Very First Book with My Very Own Money

I was reminded of this story when replying to a comment from ligh4043…it’s about: how I bought my very first book with my very own money. Yup, I’m doing it to you; taking a stroll down memory lane.

Well, it was like this….I was eight-years-old and I wanted to take a course in German after school. (I’m not sure why; I hated school. It must have been that I’ve always loved language and culture and, at eight years old, I was much smarter than I was after and knew enough to follow something I really liked.)

Mom said it was O.K., BUT I had to come up with money to pay for the text book. How does a child come up with their own money? That was the first question that popped into my mind (perhaps, it has popped into yours as well). The question was followed by an answer: take recyclables to the recycling station. There wasn’t, by far, enough recyclables in the home, so I knew I’d have to go around to the neighbours and ask if they have any old paper laying around their homes. (I’ve always hated asking for stuff, so this was the worst part of the entire endeavour.)

Plus, I didn’t have a wagon to take the piles of paper down to the station. Luckily, my Mom took that responsibility off my hands and asked a neighbour who, she knew, had a lovely red wagon.

I don’t know how many wagon loads I took down over the next few days. The recycling station was by the school and the school was a few kilometres away (and, by the way….yes, I did walk it, back and forth, every school day; during all of the seasons and during all weather conditions…just like your grandpa always complains about having done when he was young…and, he’s right, it does build character).

The first few coins that the person working at the recycling station gave me were disappointing, because I still had a ways to go. The next few coins were better, because I was getting closer. Once I had the full amount (plus, most of the cash I needed for an ice cream bar! wooohooo), my step became light as I bounced towards the school.

I remember walking up the stairs (not dreading the rest of the day, like I was used to during a school day), but knowing that that beautiful, shining book was going to be mine. Really, truly mine. I walked in to the main office, reached up to the top of the counter, lay all of the change down and stated my business.

And…there is was…glossy, hard cover, in black and white with yellow and blue highlights…I didn’t dare open it until I was outside.

The sun was just about to set when I turned the corner from the school and opened the book and released it’s new book aroma and touched the rough, recycled paper pages and thought: “This is really, honestly mine. All mine.”

This isn’t me, but it is how I felt.

…and, also, like this.

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The Neverending Story

I first saw this book as the movie, many years ago. I still get choked up when I think about the storybook characters desperately running to get away from The Nothing that was destroying the land of Fantasia.

I went to explain the desperate situation to my Mom…”The Nothing is sweeping the land. You should have seen the poor characters; they were so desperate! And it’s true. This is actually happening, with everyone attached to their TVs. Imagination is dieing!” She gave me that look that said that I was ridiculous. “Which means that creativity is dieing…the sense of community, responsibility….appreciation of nature…it’s all related.” The look continued. I left the kitchen, yelling to the house: “Everyone’s a drone!”

Anyway, I wish I had listened to myself back then. (Not sure how things would have been different, but I should have listened.) The imagination really is the source of everything; imagination and heart is the source of power, isn’t it?

This video makes me think of the changing global weather patterns…the current drought, the various floods…am I nuts?

Book reviews: “N” Is for the Neverending Story”, Review #2: The Neverending Story by Michael Ende, The Neverending Story

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As much as I love books, sometimes, I wonder whether I shouldn’t live life rather then read about other people’s perceptions of it.

Soul Writings

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The Blogging Addict

That is what I have become. I cannot stop. I’ve spread myself too thin. The posts are suffering. I am suffering. I’ve been going at the blog the way I do at a bucket of The Chunky Monkey (or whatever other delicious ice cream happens to be on sale….hell, anything with sugar will do).

I have asked my husband to tell me to get off the computer if he spies me blogging. But, no. He has not been vigilant. He is undependable. That’s what it is.

Meanwhile, here I am, typing like a fiend in the glare of the screen. Is it even worth reading? I don’t know, but I must continue. (Seriously, if a blog was chocolate, it would be ooozing from my mouth from being overfilled.) What to do?????

Right. It’s just like this except wrt the blog.

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Happy Canada Day!

This is one of  my favourite holidays. I only cry on Canada Day and Rememberance Day. Not even Christmas can get me this emotional. I guess that I’m pretty patriotic. So, I raise my glass to Canadians everywhere and to everyone who loves their country as much as I love mine.

Here’s one of the best Canadian songs ever: Canadian, Please.

P.S. Yes, I’ve berated myself for not reviewing a book by a Canadian author for this occasion…but, I’ll be sure to have one reviewed for Remembrance Day.

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Snow White and the Huntsman, Part 2

The Evil Queen in History and the First Time I Ever Heard of Her (bc I know you’re dieing to hear about that)

The evil Queen’s methods of maintaining her youth and power are rather similar to those attributed to Erzsébet Báthory, a Hungarian Countess living in the mid 1500’s to early 16oo’s. (Julie Delpy directed and starred in a wonderful movie about her, called “The Countess”, in 2009) Mind you, historians find the whole assertion of her bathing in virgins’ blood highly questionable. (To find out more about the views of historians and the times Erzsebet lived in, click here.)

The first time that I heard of the Countess was when, as a pre-schooler, I traveled to Slovakia…I was in the backseat of our car with my grandmother when we stopped at a border and she leaned towards me and said:”We’re entering the realm of the Countess. They say that she used to kill young women and girls and bathe in their blood”. The first part of that sentence seized up my brain; the second part, contorted my body. “Why?!” “So that she could stay young and beautiful.” “Why are we going there then?” “Silly, she died hundreds of years ago,” grandma replied. I relaxed somewhat.

The real life castle of the Countess

Btw, do not introduce such concepts in this manner to impressionable, pensive children. They will ponder this for weeks, months, even years. Why would you kill someone and then do something so bizzarely gruesome after that? Why is it so important to  be young?

Mind you, as the wrinkles start to creep in, I think, I’m finally starting to wrap my brain around the concept….really, I need to sensor myself more…or else people will start to believe me and come with their torches and pitch forks and there’s nothing worse than mob mentality as Erzsebet found out….

P.S. on Monday we’re going to have a great book review by Randi O’Hare, a guest reviewer from London, Ontario. 😀

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Back to the Laundry Room…

…it’s another beautiful day in the laundry room…the sun is shining warmly, the machines are humming, people are chatting. It’s very much a meeting place, which is why Frankie comes here often ( and, like me, he comes to see if there are any new books).

Sometimes, I run into him in the hallways, but in the  laundry room there’s always time to talk. We talk about wars Canada has been involved in, politics, news in the building…

Today, he told me the following joke:

Grandson: “Grandpa, can you say ‘ribbit’?”

Grandpa: “Why?”

Grandson: “Grandma said that after you croak she’ll take us to Disneyland.”

Well, I thought it was funny.

The Thing About Photos…

As I’ve observed other blogs, it has occurred to me that this blog is destined to suffer from a lack of super-awesome photos:

1. it’s a book blog
2. I hardly ever have an opportunity to get out

So, I’ve decided to commit myself to, once in a blue moon, when I get my hands on some original, super-awesome (or even just moderately awesome or somewhat cool) photos, posting them here for no apparent reason at all. THAT should spruce things up. 🙂

In the meantime, here are pictures of a goose and a squirrel (aaaawsommme!) that I took with my wimpy camera during a walk down the block.

I have a follower! Thank you, Rosamond Bain. Wooohoo!