August 27, 2000

Stolen Moment



Here are a few of my favorite online haunts:
[This is the site I visit to fantasize about living in Toronto again, which is almost every single day during the winter]

Jonathan Cainer's Zodiac Forecasts
[This is where I visit in the morning, when I need a positive spin on things past, present and future.]

Living Local
[This is where I go to see what Canadians are up to, sometimes I even buy things from the businesses listed there.]

Environment Canada Weather
[This is the site I visit every morning, and before every road trip during the winter]

I am stealing this brief peaceful moment early in the day. The day before me is not one I look forward to, but one I must tackle with all the psychic strength I can muster. School starts next week and we must prepare for the change of pace and perspective. There will be resistance. Oh yes, there will be resistance.

Attila managed to take five consecutive days off work during the warm weather, for the first time in seven years. We took this turn of good fortune as a golden opportunity to strike forth into the wilderness. We packed our little green car to the roof with tents and bedding and food and cooking pots and headed for Pinery Provincial Park in Ontario.

We had a glorious time! The first night in the tent was so cold we barely slept. We arose to a lovely sunny day and enjoyed a sinful breakfast of bacon, eggs, and coffee with chocolate. We then sat about listening to the birds sing and watching the sun filter to the ground through the pine needles. There were young children riding bicycles everywhere. There was a constant parade of children and other campers riding and strolling along the maze of narrow dirt roads that twisted through the trees and hills.

After an enjoyable lunch of beans and wieners we donned our bathing suits and hiked down to the beach. There were hundreds of people at the beach. However, the beach stretches for great distances and a short walk found us a relatively quiet and isolated spot to spend the afternoon. "The Teenager" immediately headed into the water. She and Attila waded to the first sandbar and stopped to wave at me, the water lapping at their ankles. The water remained shallow for quite a distance from the shore, but they finally found themselves chest deep in the rolling waves. They waved and called, but I could not hear them above the sound of the crashing waves. They did headstands and swam about in the sun.

Attila returned to the beach to watch our belongings while I took a turn wading into the cold clear water under the big blue sky. I had not been swimming for over ten years. There was a time when I swam several miles, several times a week. The benefit of that had worn off years ago. It did not take me long to realize that I would have to work up to swimming a reasonable distance. So, I swam about for a little while and then just floated as "The Teenager" entertained me with her enthusiastic antics. She is very charming when she is not busy living up to the image of being a teenager.

Our day ended with a campfire, over which we grilled cheese sandwiches, hot dogs, and marshmallows. By ten o'clock a hush had descended on the park. Most of the children and many of the adults had retired to the warmth of their beds. "The Teenager" headed for her tent with her Walkman and her diary, her light went out after a very short time. Attila and I sat before the fire, happy in our thoughts and glad to be together. As the flames died to embers, we too sought the comfort of our tent.

Our days at the park followed in similar sleepy, unremarkable, and happy succession.

Now that we have returned home there is much to do. The camping equipment must be prepared for storage until another year and another trip. The tents were quite damp and had to be erected on the back deck to dry in the sun. We then brought them indoors and draped them over racks to dry thoroughly and prevent mildew. The piles of bedding and clothing used for the week sit in piles waiting to be laundered. Bags must be unpacked. The car is covered with pine pitch and filled with sand. "The Teenager's" duffel bags are filled with wet socks and towels and who knows what else.

Attila has returned to work, he expects to get one or two more days off before mid-November.

I am off now to begin inducing trauma on "The Teenager". In literal terms this means I will be making sure those wet socks and towels go into the washing machine. The path of true love is never smooth.

Top of Page

Worldly Distractions

Pinery Pines
Pinery Pines

By the Easy Chair
A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth

The Chieftan's

On the Screen

In the Kitchen
Crock Pot Apple Butter Recipe

8 cups apple sauce
4 cups sugar
1/8 cup vinegar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon cloves

Place in crock pot and stir until blended. Cook on high about 5 hours Turn to low until desired thickness stiring occasionally.

Posted to "Granny's Helpers Tag" by "Charles R. Finton" on May 22, 1999.

Page by Page: A Woman's Journal
by Maggie Turner

Canadian Maggie Turner writes and publishes poetry, photography, and a personal journal online. Her work reflects the current way of life in Canada, embracing Canada's past, present, and future in a unique portrayal of everyday life. Maggie's voice is one of the many that actively depict the rich diversity of Canadian culture.

Photography: "a term which comes from the Greek words photos (light) and graphos (drawing). A photograph is made with a camera by exposing film to light in order to create a negative. The negative is then used in the darkroom to print a photograph (positive) onto light-sensitive paper.
Source: University of Arizona Glossary

Poetry: "a form of speech or writing that harmonizes the music of its language with its subject. To read a great poem is to bring out the perfect marriage of its sound and thought in a silent or voiced performance. At least from the time of Aristotle's Poetics, drama was conceived of as a species of poetry."
Source: Creative Studios

Journal: " "Though a journal may be many things - a treasury, a storehouse, a jewelry box, a laboratory, a drafting board, a collector's cabinet, a snapshot album, a history, a travelogue..., a letter to oneself - it has some definable characteristics. It is a record, an entry-book, kept regularly, though not necessarily daily.... Some (entries) will be nearly illegible, written in the dark in the middle of the night.... Not only is it a record for oneself, but of oneself. Every memorable journal, any successful journal, is honest. Nothing sham, phony, false...." (Dorothy Lambert from Ken Macrorie's book, Writing to be Read )
A journal is a way to keep track of your thoughts about what you read... as well as what you did on any given day."
Source: Journal Writing

A Blog is an online journal created by server side software, often hosted by a commercial interest.

"The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger[4] on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog," was coined by Peter Merholz, who jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog in the sidebar of his blog in April or May 1999.[5][6][7] Shortly thereafter, Evan Williams at Pyra Labs used "blog" as both a noun and verb ("to blog," meaning "to edit one's weblog or to post to one's weblog") and devised the term "blogger" in connection with Pyra Labs' Blogger product, leading to the popularization of the terms."

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