Meme and Me.

Not necessarily in that order.

I've been a wee bit absent this past week, thanks to The Great Sequin-Sewing Debacle a little sewing project for a couple of dance performances Twinkletoes was in, and a couple of grandparental visits to see Twinkletoes and ignore her parents watch said performances with us.

She is an octopus. By the way, sequin strings don't stretch.
Lycra, however, does. You do the physics.
After a first failed attempt, I reverted to wave theory.

Then there was the week-long fight with medical secretaries. Ordinarily, I don't like to fight with secretaries. I have been a secretary myself, in three different professional milieu. It ain't easy. They are not all gum-smacking big-haired tanning-salon addicts who put most of their intellectual energy into choosing a sufficiently garish shade of lipstick to match the five necklaces stuck in their cleavage. (I don't even wear lipstick. See? I'm living proof.) And I admire the people who can successfully handle being at a doctor's beck and call without killing said doctor. (My demons employers were a lawyer, a journalism director, and an advertising executive. Miraculously, I did nothing that would land me in jail. However, I will NEVER be anyone's secretary again.)

But this week, it seemed as if each and every person I spoke with decided, on principle, to be an incommunicative con, absolutely refusing to help me or to speak with me on complex medical matters in the SECOND language Canadians are required to speak in public life (that would be ENGLISH) which is a rather necessary skill to have in a freaking HOSPITAL in freaking CANADA because this is a BILINGUAL country, people.

Four hospitals later, I have an appointment to discuss the merits of sawing a hole into my skull, with the actual chainsaw-wielding maniac neurosurgeon who would do the job if he feels it is necessary to do so. Before the next century, I hope. This one even speaks English willingly, and by all accounts neither owns nor advocates the use of a chainsaw, unless one is an unruly maple tree, which I am not. I have the hyper-clear angiogram to prove it. I am merely an unruly human. And I have killed no one. Yet.

I did, however, shout. This shocks the hell out of Spiff, who has been waiting for the day that I would actually shout at someone when they deserve it. Well, the Québec medical system finally pushed me over the edge. There is a reason they post signs above medical receptionist desks that read, "Swearing, shouting, threats or violence will not be tolerated." Too many people must have been driven to near-insanity by secretaries who say one week that they will call another doctor's office and then say the next week that they do not have the telephone number for said doctor's office and why am I asking?

So. I am now a Shouter. (This is not the same, you will note, as being a Screamer. Heh. None of your business.)

Enough about Me. Now, about Meme...

Some people grow plants on top of their cabinets.
I grow vegetarian cookbooks.
(French men don't eat tofu.)

I was tagged to do a book meme about three decades weeks ago (or so) by my buddy Kate (read her answers here), who does not have to glow to be a cutiepie. (Don't argue, Kate. If I ever posted pictures of my pregnant self, honey, I'd be banned from the internet for scaring the crap out of people. Like Divine without the makeup. I'm serious.) So, here we go with the meme:

1. How many books are in your house?

Enough to need large bookshelves in every single room except the bathroom and the laundry room. And this is only because I got rid of half of my books before I moved to Canada, in order to keep my back from completely falling apart (I moved my books myself. I don't trust movers with dishes, computers, or books.) I believe I moved about 1,100 books. Since then, I've acquired probably ten knitting books and a few fiction and poetry books. And if we count Spiff's books (he has about 40, though he thinks he has less and he calls me a tree-killer), that's about 1,160 books. Or, a thousand million gazillion. Because, you know, I'm underguesstimating to protect the murderer among us.

2.What was the last book you bought?

I bought two. Osborne Publishing's The Complete Reference: UNIX and Conscience Phonologique by Marilyn Jager Adams et al. The first is to curb my tree-killing tendencies and learn how to take over the world operate our Linux server. The second is to pass on the joy of tree-killing reading books to my kid, who is learning to read and needs a little extra help. I'm not sure I can further interest her in that fabulous smell of old books in used book stores, but I'm sure going to try. Sorry, Spiff.

3. What are the last books you've read?

In my case, I'm not counting cookbooks or computer books because that will double the post. I have most recently read Stephanie's book. Of course. And I loved it.

Before that, I read Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code, because I felt obligated the whole world, me excluded, has read it I thought I'd finally give it a shot. It totally underwhelmed me. Predictable and pedantic. Which disappointed me, because I grew up with the guy, and was hoping for better. But he's wildly famous and I am not, so don't listen to me.

If we are talking about the last book I read and truly enjoyed, that would be Brian Greene's The Elegant Universe. String theory rocks, tangible or not. By the way, a lot of people have asked me why I love logic, math, and science, when I am neither a logician, nor a mathematician, nor a scientist, and therefore don't have to deal with any of this. Well, because I'm a nutcase curious. I like it because it's all a big challenge, and I am the kind of person who likes to stare at stars and not just wonder about them, but learn about them, too. I like to ask questions about what's beyond the edge of our knowledge. I may not get any answers, but the questions are worth exploring, I think. And I'm fascinated by the writings of people who have the training to really go after the answers.

4. Name five books that you reread often or that mean a lot to you.

Tolkien would be way too obvious, so I'll list as the first book A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. It's written for kids, but it's one I still return to. I gave that book to Spiff when we were dating, it was that important to me. And he informed me that I am Charles Wallace. Scary, but true.

Beauty by Robin McKinley. A re-telling of Beauty and the Beast, for young adults (and old adults). It's very well done, very compelling, and best of all, it ain't Disney.

Illusions by Richard Bach, which taught me to open any book that is important to me and I will find an answer to a question I'm asking. It actually works, if you have the right book in hand, and an open mind. My favourite quote in the whole book: "Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours." And if there is a French book that does the same thing for me, opening and finding answers/inspiration, it would be Citadelle by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. (Sorry, that was two serving as one...this is BILINGUAL Canada, people. No, I'm not bitter. Much.)

Hard Labor by Cesare Pavese. A poet I return to over and over again to kickstart my own work. And a hard choice to make, because nearly half of my book collection is poetry. Pavese is more known for his novels, but I have to thank a bunch of my mentors for directing me to his poetry. Really gorgeous, on subjects that are anything but gorgeous.

Cosmos by Carl Sagan. I know much of it is outdated, but I have a soft spot for this guy, his writing was fantastic, and one of my most favourite childhood memories is watching him on film. If there was one person who conveyed to me how exciting and beautiful the world of science can be, and how we play a part, however, small, in the universe, it was Carl Sagan. I think I first read this book when I was thirteen. And I can still hear his voice saying, "Billions and billions of stars...." And here we go again with the double-book listing: Hubert Reeves is the French Carl Sagan to me. His Patience dans l'azur blows my mind.

From the Cassini-Huygens Mission to Saturn:
What it's like to feel very, very small and awestruck.
(Why, yes, I did, in fact, think of knitting that stripe pattern....)

5. Who will you pass this on to?

If she'll humour me, I'd like to pass this on to Rachel, of The Village Knittiot. Her reviews of books she's read are so eloquent that I can't help but want to read her answers to this meme.

Next post, knitting content. I promise. I have a waiting room to haunt and a final exam to take. Where there is waiting and studying, there will be knitting....

A wee little editor's note, to clarify a couple of things: I merely sewed the sequins, and had to modify the costume to further fit extremely small octopus. Tailoring, I do. Major huge sewing projects, I don't do.

Also, please understand that I like and respect Dan Brown very much. He does, indeed, remain an extremely nice man. It's just the book I wasn't wowed by, and I'm in the minority on that one.

June 6, 2005 4:32 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (12)  | Print