That time of year...

...when I'm run off my feet with all the things to do! For a few days last week I didn't even turn the computer on, which is pretty strange for an Internet geek like myself.

In a nutshell, the Undercurrents book launch was a fabulous success, I'm (fairly) close to being ready for Christmas, but still have a long list of things to finish up. So blogging will likely be at a minimum until after the new year. I'll post a fuller report on the book launch if I do get a minute, though, and I want to talk about some writing plans for 2009.

Remembrance Day Musings

Today, as most years, I went to the Remembrance Day service in my small town. There's a park and a beautifully-maintained Cenotaph. A small contingent of veterans, cadets, and other groups (like the volunteer firemen) march from the Legion to the Cenotaph, where a service and wreath-laying are held. Pretty much the same thing is going on in other towns and cities all over the country.

It was a mild day for November 11th here; although a few rain droplets fell while we watched the veterans pass and walked after them to the Cenotaph, the sun came out soon after. It was warm on my back as I listened to the opening remarks, although there was a breeze stiff enough to send the Canadian flag and those of the Colour Party snapping while we observed two minutes of silence.

The service is fairly well-attended in our town, and today I was observing the diversity of folks who turned out. During the two minutes' silence I watched a blond teenager quietly and carefully join the crowd, carrying his skateboard so as not to disturb the quiet. He wore a black "30-hour Famine" hoodie and part of a shiny bicycle chain hung as jewellery around his neck. He softly laid his skateboard out of the way so no-one would trip on it and waited until the silence was finished to take a few photographs of the veterans and assembled honour guard. Then he stood quietly and attentively throughout the rest of the service, next to an elderly couple, bundled in warm coats and scarves and hats, who undoubtedly still hold hard memories of war. Nearby, some young children played quietly, surely not understanding even a fraction of what was going on around them, but picking up somehow on the sombreness of the event.

As usual, the playing of the Last Post made me tear up, as did the Piper's Lament. At one point I was thinking cynically about all the politicians turning out today to pay tribute and perhaps take advantage of a photo opportunity, even while they have made or helped make decisions that sent others off to war. Do they feel conflicted? Guilty? Remorseful? Or are they fully convinced that their decisions were absolutely necessary and have no need to reconcile the two?

Today I'm thinking about two family members in particular. My great-uncle John, who fought in the Second World War and came home with scars mental and physical and a drinking problem that eventually ended his life; and my grandfather's cousin Alec, who went off to the First World War and sadly did not come home at all. We have a postcard that he (then around 18) sent to my grandfather (then 9 or 10), who was worried about him. It's very poignant to hold it and read it, and know that he would die shortly after writing it.

A lot to think about today, and no conclusions to arrive at. Perhaps the thinking is enough.

Simple Pleasures

Today, with NaNoWriMo out of the way, I knew I had to make a start on some holiday housecleaning. Housecleaning is not one of my favorite chores (although I suppose it does rank ahead of grocery shopping). However, as I moved furniture around and washed curtains and wiped down baseboards and mopped floors and dislodged dust that had been there for far too long, I have to admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction. There's a simple pleasure in doing a task that returns instant and visible progress. Writing, by contrast, can sometimes go on for weeks, months, without the same feeling of accomplishment. Even when the pages are piling up, there is still so much more to be done before a project can be pronounced "finished." So today I tried, instead of tackling the work as an unpleasant chore, to take pleasure in the job and in what I was accomplishing. I thought of it as something I was doing to make our lives more pleasant for the coming holidays. It worked. I feel like it was a job well done. And a clean room just smells so nice.

Of course, that was only one room. I may feel differently in a few days' time. ;-)

Christmas Shopping

Today I finally got started on my Christmas shopping. Well, I suppose I actually was started, having ordered a few things online, but this was my first trip to the stores. My sister and I went and managed to get quite a bit accomplished.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a strange memory problem--it's not a short-term memory thing, it's long-term memories that give me trouble. However, I have one early memory that is very vivid and involves Christmas shopping. I remember going to a store in the next town and shopping for a gift for my grandmother. I wasn't very old at the time, maybe seven or eight, and I didn't have much money of my own to spend. But I found a beautiful little changepurse, pink and studded with small crystals, that was perfect. I thought it was beautiful, at least; I don't know for certain what my grandmother thought, although I know she would have told me she loved it regardless. It's strange that this memory is so vivid. I can close my eyes and see the changepurse there in my hands.

I can't say I'm feeling any real Christmas spirit yet, however. The Christmas music playing in the mall sounds oddly out of place to my ears. Perhaps it's the mild-ish weather we've been having, or the fact that my mind is still mostly on NaNoWriMo. It certainly isn't that the malls aren't busy!

I've done more and more shopping online the past few years; I know it's not that great for our local economy, but it's such a time-saver for me that it's difficult not to take advantage of it. This year I've done minimal shopping online so far, and it's starting to get a little late for it--I worry about things not arriving on time. I might have to bite the bullet and put a few more miles on my sneakers this year.

One thing I find depressing about mall shopping is the sheer volume of absolute JUNK that's for sale. When I think about it all ending up in landfills it just makes my heart sink.

Oops, what started out as a fairly lighthearted post has degraded rather horribly. Maybe a rousing chorus of "Jingle Bells" to cheer us all up again...

Thanks to gamerzero at morguefile.com for the money photo.