I could stand for a little less self-determination

"We must move forward, not backward, upward not forward, and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom."

Normally I'm all for liberty and self-determination, but I'll admit that it scared the shit out of me to realize that my little kitty Walter had seized an opportunity to rip through the bathroom screen and escape out of the second storey of my house and into the backyard, which is mostly just a ditch with large, sharp chunks of concrete (it's been under "renovation" for years).

Little Walt is completely unharmed, and seemed completely undisturbed when I came to scoop him up out of the yard.

So much for his twirling.

Almost eden

"Dogs are our link to paradise. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace."
Milan Kundera

I'm trying to train Abby to sit up on a park bench with me, and it's only half working. Like, she knows what I'm asking, but it makes her uncomfortable. She will often put her front legs up to snag the cookie, but not the whole deal.

Border Patrol

I would just like you to know that it took me nearly 75 minutes to be cleared to cross the border for entry into the United States, and less than 7 minutes to be cleared to return to Canada.

When to complain and when to shut up

I got off the bus in front of the building where I work this morning and a woman approached me. A lot more people have given me second looks, complimented me and otherwise tried to get my attention since my latest chemistry experiment, in which I ended up blonder than ever before.

"I love your purse," she said.

I love it, too. My sister C. brought me this awesome D&G knockoff (I think) bag from New York. It's shiny and huge and green like a salamander.

"I feel like women should be more feminine, like we're losing that," she said. "I saw your scarf and thought, "oh good for her, good for anyone who would wear that. You look very French."

I admit that I felt pretty great in my green and silver scarf and black outfit, with the white cupcake earrings that I look for any excuse to wear (thanks to my sister S.). It felt...complicated that conforming to such a stereotype can earn such praise.

So in keeping with liking to feel like a woman and not liking it, when I met a woman entrepreneur on my way home who was selling flowers, I bought myself a bouquet of a dozen white roses. Which she sold to me for $15, so she wouldn't have to take them home again.

I've never really bought myself flowers before, but I really recommend it.

Motor city getaway

So I've just returned from Detroit, a city I'd never been to before and still know very little about.

For all of it's reputation in the media, Detroit is a great example of how much insulation a little money can provide - during my stay on a university campus, everything was safe and beautiful.

This is not the case for all of its residents. Obviously a city that once had great wealth, many buildings are boarded up and so many streets seem deserted. When we attended part of a conference at the symphony orchestra building, there were security guards all the way down the block.

Most impressive are the churches and corporate buildings, not that either god or the companies have done much good for the city that's been described as the murder capital of the country, and where one-third of the people live below the poverty line.

It's clear to me that many people there feel the way I do after spending some time there - hopeful and full of ideas. I can't begin to tell you about the richness of ideas and activism I encountered while I was there. But I can say that I'd go back, I'd go back in a second.

travel schmavel

After a 24 hour whirlwind rush to get my passport, in which my references consistently forgot where I lived and then made comments like, "her hair is blonde...today" when asked to describe my appearance and in which I had no government issued identification with my picture on it or a signature less than 20 years old, I have it. I am a documented citizen, the government knows where I work and what I do and can use biometric recognition software stuff to recognize my face.

And I can go to a really great conference tomorrow.

I ran, I ran so far away

Actually I don't run very far away at all. I can only run at intervals - 60 seconds of running and 30 seconds of walking. This is to build your strength and endurance, and so you don't hurt yourself like the putz you are, in your enthusiasm.

And it's a great thing to do on a day like today, when you have an important pitch due to a magazine tomorrow morning and you aren't sure where you're going with it.

Easy like Sunday morning

This is the kind of Sunday where you listen to Leonard Cohen's greatest hits, volume one only, and fry potatoes, and put off doing all the things you should be doing.

And you can do that easily, by making to do lists, and trying to polish your stove top, and watching your favourite So You Think You Can Dance routines on youtube until your coffee gets cold, and maybe posting something on your blog.

Totally convincing

I would just like to report that I made a totally convincing "cheesecake," which was completely identical to those jell-o brand instant type cheesecakes, and maybe (certainly) more delicious, out of tofu and agar and oreo cookie crumbs. Yum.

This is a picture of someone else's cake, but mine was beautiful, too.

If you want to learn more about vegan french cooking, check out this awesome but unfortunately named blog Hezbollah Tofu

Prayers for rain

I'm currently involved in some of these, with the conditions that it start and stop before the next time I have to walk with the dog.

And now for this message from our sponsors

Watch me on twitter

I'll stop harping on it now, you get the message.

Pretty girls make graves

Maybe they do - I'm sure that out there in the big wide world, some pretty good looking women are working as grave diggers.

run like the wind

I just finished my second 3k run this week. I don't time it, because I'm sure it's not good.

I think three things are at play here. First, watching boxing is making me want to be strong and fit. And maybe making me want to write a book about a woman fighter. And especially making me want to write an article about women who are activists and also athletic.

Second, I want to be perfect at everything and feel that now that I've admitted this publicly, I have to run the October 5k.

Third, well, actually I have nothing to watch on tv before boston legal is on at 10:00 on Tuesdays. So it gives me something to do while thinking about Alan Shore.

Finish line

I am this close (erinn gestures with her fingers to show an approximate space of about half an inch) to getting an article published in a magazine this fall.

I am also standing for re-election tomorrow, so we hope that I am Bowe and not Holyfield this week.

Everything I need to know, I learned from men's pro heavyweight boxing

I know I wax a bit philosophical about a sport that many consider to be brutal and inhumane, but I wanted to share this bit of wisdom with you.

From a boxing commentator:

"A fighter who's never been knocked down can't take certain risks that another fighter can."

So maybe a perfect record isn't always an asset.

Since I couldn't sleep and classic boxing runs at 12:00 am some Saturdays, I watched the 1992 men's heavyweight title match on tv. Evander Holyfield and Riddick Bowe, mismatched in size by 30 pounds, duking it out for the highest honour (and prize purse) in boxing.

It's good to be by yourself when boxing makes you misty-eyed. There's a moment in the 7th or 8th round when Holyfield, the smaller of the two men, gets knocked down. That's usually the end of things. But it isn't - get pulls himself up and musters whatever lives inside of him that makes him go, that makes him a champion, and he comes back harder than before. You can see in his eyes a drive, a spark that isn't extinguished by the fall.

There's something about someone reaching deep within themselves and giving their all, every scrap of themselves that moves something inside of me.

And he keeps going, keeps going another few rounds and there's a gash over his eye, and he's faltering, and by round 12, I am almost crying because I hate this part of fights - I want it to be over. Somebody's gotta give up or somebody's gotta finish it, because one of them is suffering, dragging themselves around the ring, holding their head up waiting for the bellring, they are dangling by threads.

The twelfth round breaks my heart over and over.

And then it is over, the championship is transferred to Bowe, the challenger, and everything begins again. A change in boxing royalty is like springtime, because all the flowers and weeds, everything starts coming up and everyone holds their breath to see what flourishes.

My definition is this

So when the sky is heavy and grey, and you can feel moisture in the air, I think it's time to move the dance performance to the "inclement weather location."

Because if you don't, I will be the only person there, missing it.

Minty fresh!

I am trying new recipes - this is because my standard repetoire of miscellaneous curry, miscellaneous pasta with pc vegetarian bolognese sauce, and miscellaneous muffins is getting old.

So I made a potentially disastrous sundried tomato and mint pesto from my new vegan italian cookbook.

And you know what? I can't stop putting mint in things. It's so delicious, and I thought it was only for pep patties. Lunch today was couscous salad with mint, and since there's still half my package of mint, probably breakfast will include it, and dinner tomorrow.

Apparently you can learn something new every day. Something minty fresh.