Podcast girl storms the castle

Well, it looks like I'm going to be a podcast host. I would like to take this opportunity to say

HOLY CRAP!!

As a non-linear thinker, the thought that I must now "follow through" with my great idea has smacked me in my bewildered face. I felt the same way when I was training for the "walk-the-walk" marathon and raising funds. There was simply no going back. I had placed myself in a position and it was step up or nothing. I have to laugh at my own idiocy.

What I hadn't realized is what a pain technology can be. For little me to do my own podcast is easy - I just use an online host and babble on about anything I want. But to do one for a business, with music clips, involves servers and bandwidth and tracking and marketing considerations, all of which is somewhat beyond me at the moment. And I'm only just learning what a new medium podcasting still is, so I'm freaking out somewhat.

DO YOU HEAR THAT? I'M FREAKING OUT!

Whoa. In the voice of a guy named Ted:

Dude.

Chill.

I'm off to bed. The weekend will bring research, writing, toying around with my Audacity software and generally trying to figure out what the hell to do next. Whew.

Notes on a Thursday night

Hello all. I am busy busy trying to sort myself out for my podcast presentation next week. I don't quite know what is expected of me. I know I have 20 minutes and will need to make the most of it.

Today I bought a book of German short stories, in the form of "parallel text," with German on the left and English on the right. I hope this will help me to improve my German, which I've been wanting to do for some time.

I'm kind of all business minded at the moment. I even bought a book on creating business plans. It's strange because my brother was always "Mr. business," and while he still is, I am finding that my creative nature can work well within this realm known as marketing and such.

I can't think of much else. I spoke to my brother last night for the first time in ages and I am worried about him because he is very stressed and he also has bad knees. It's not good to have bad knees when you are only 35. I told him to eat salmon and do light stretching, because I don't know what one does to make bad knees feel better. Would anyone like to buy a fish and chip restaurant?

JP and I went to see Mary Rose the other night. It was just okay. The acting was wonderful and the set was lovely, but there was something about the story itself that just didn't lend itself to adaptation. It just seemed there were too many things shoved into the story for no reason.

Finally, the soundtrack for The English Patient is really excellent.
That's all my news.

Eeek!

Exciting news! The producer has told me he thinks my podcast idea is great and has asked me to give a presentation at the managers' meeting next month. So now I have to talk about it for 20 minutes and try to convince all the managers it is worth supporting.

Craig is making me an omelette! I have to go now!

Sunday ramble

I have 45 minutes while the haggis boils.

I had planned to see a show today - Simon Callow reading Dickens. But I am staying home instead, sinking blissfully into my introversion like it was a warm bath. This morning I finished reading Lovely Bones. Some books you don’t want to end - you get a sense that the characters have more ahead of them that you need to be a part of. I feel that way about Tom Robbins’ novels. With other books it is a relief when you reach the end, because you are glad be experiencing some kind of closure. Lovely Bones was like this. I liked how Mr Harvey’s isolation keep the reader from despising him completely. In the end we don’t really care about him anymore - he is literally cast aside.

(You wouldn’t know, but this letter was interrupted by two wasps that flew in and swept through the living room and kitchen like fighter jets trying to stay below the radar of the enemy. My fear of bees and wasps has not diminished over the years. Up I leapt, almost tossing Stephen Fry (my laptop still goes by no other name) onto the coffee table while chanting “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” I grabbed a green tea towel and stood hovering in the doorway of the hall, periodically venturing out to lunge at one of them. Eventually they both flew out the window, which I hastily closed. Once again, I am calm).

There is one week left for our show. I will be glad when it is finished. I work all day but I struggle with making myself go home and just STOP. I cannot make myself leave until I feel settled that certain things are in order. Not everything, because that is not possible. But my lists must be made and I have to know what might be looming for me the next day. My plans aren’t real ones - they are more like Jackson Pollock paintings - ideas and maybes splattered on sticky notes and plastered to my computer monitor. But the process relaxes me, which is what I need before I can peel off my manic state and close the door.

The season is changing and MY season is moving ever closer. The peaches are finished - buy them now and you will find them grainy and dry. Now is the time of the plum. They are heaped on the shelves, their skins tight around flesh that itself bulges away from the stone. So along with the haggis lasagne I am making as a form of payment for Graham’s computer wizardry, I am making for myself a plum, hazelnut and chocolate cake. Heady, sticky, moist and just a tingling bit of bitter…pleasure.

While walking to the Sainsbury’s (I spell out the name of the grocery store so that Craig can relive the experience of perusing the aisles) I noticed there is a new butchers down the street. Various African flags are painted over the freshly painted, blindingly white doorway. My chance to learn to make curried goat has now arrived.

That’s my news. I'm going to make a cup of tea.
Song in my head: Drive Like I Never Been Hurt - Ry Cooder

This short news bulletin

-John has managed to be stung by a dead bee.

-Through the power of Google, I have found my old friend Simon. I have always remembered that Simon means "he has heard." Even though I have not spoken to him for years, he has always been a calm presence in my life. He hangs around in my mind sometimes. Not really saying anything. Just...being there. Which is usually enough.

-I should have been asleep an hour ago.

-At work it seems we are all taking turns experiencing "the fury."

-Yesterday a man from Amarillo, Texas, gave me a pin badge with black cowboy boots on it.

-I miss just being at home for more than just when I'm going to bed or getting up.

-Today I met two people who were so excited to have gotten Tattoo tickets that they could barely speak

-There is always something I have forgotten.

Day and Night - Tattoo 2008

This morning...

And Tonight...

Here we go again. We sat in the rain for the the first part of the show, and everytime I moved in my seat the water that had pooled on my rain poncho would seep into my trousers. Best band of the night was definitely the King's Guard from Norway, who started their act with a bunch of guys dressed as vikings, hurling out through the castle gates. Two of them were on roller-skis.
Everything is quite stressful and the terrible heat is making feel unwell (my ankle looks like it has a half a baseball attached to it), but we have a truly spectacular team. I love our girls.

It has rolled past 12:30am and I'm weary. Another big day awaits.

Place your bets

The man-boy slumbers. He sleeps tucked into the corner, half curled into a ball, the blankets drawn up almost over his head. This subconscious cocoon-building developed through years of living as an introvert in an urban environment with four siblings, two parents and various pets. When the world is closing in, you create techniques to block it out.

This evening we will make pizza from scratch. He is determined to craft a pizza that has never been attempted before. Peanut butter pizza or pizza with dinosaur eggs and baby toes (his words, not mine). I am making my own - something nice with basil. I know he will mock my lack of bravado but at least we may having something to eat at the end.

I should be working on my web site course but the wind has gone out of my sails. No doubt I will lunge over the finish line next week with a patch work web site and attached rambling essay. I’ll finish, but I no longer care. Spatial awareness is not my strongpoint. I accept that.

On Thursday we had a staff day out to the horse races in Perth. I had never been to any races before and found it both fascinating and disturbing. The range of punters was the best thing: old couples clinging on to each other as they walked over the uneven grass; desperate men with huge guts clutching their betting slips so that the sweat from their palms seeped into the paper; young yuppies pretending to be aristocrats, the women dressed in cocktail dresses and stilettos, their jutting shoulder blades spelling out their bodies’ desire for a decent feed.

The horses were smaller than I thought they would be, but they were beautiful. We saw one horse fall and I was gripped with a sick feeling, wondering what on earth I was doing there. At the end of each race the winner was brought through to a special area, his body glistening with sweat and his skin shuddering to keep off the flies.

The work clan had been split into teams to see which one could boast the most success with their choices. A series of poor £2 bets left our contingent with 50 pence. I placed two bets of my own and won nothing. The second time the horse I chose came second. I chose him because he was called Named At Dinner, and as a rule I like dinner very much. Overall it was a hot day and I was feeling a little out of sorts. I wished I could have gone with John because his enthusiasm for the atmosphere and the people watching would have given my spirit a lift (although he admits he likely would have behaved like a madman, making wild bets and kicking at the ground when the horse failed to come in).

I work in a strange place. Where else would your boss walk past and, on his way out the door, call to you, “I’m off to have lunch with the Queen; I’ll be sure to remind her that it’s Canada Day.” Our show starts 1 August but I’ll be getting Sundays off this season so I’m hoping to get lots of festival photos and attend a few shows. I’ve already decided that after this show I need to re-evaluate my priorities and figure out in what direction I want to wander. At the moment at work I am constantly frustrated because there is so much I could do but my day-to-day duties get in the way of me achieving what I feel is some greater, untapped potential. I cannot move forward and this leaves me feeling vacant and listless. Like the fight just goes out of me.

In other news Omi is feeling much better. She is back at home and slowly gaining back her strength. Family and guests from Germany have been visiting and my parents took them to the WORLD FAMOUS WILLIAMS LAKE STAMPEDE (I like Capitals). I have also been given a thorough description of just how hot it is. “It was thirty----seven---degrees,” said my mother, drawing out the sentence to churn up the heat. Does this mean all the Saskatoon berries are going to shrivel up? I do like saskatoons. When I was living at Chimney Lake I stored a small amount of them in the freezer so that in the winter I could smell them and be transported back to summer.

I have resorted to talking about the weather so that means I should go.
Song of the Day: Wonderful Life by The Felice Brothers

Rage! Rage!

I can’t help myself. Today I had the disgusting experience of dealing with two of the most condescending, abrasive, snobbish, blindingly rude people I have ever met. A mother and daughter team, they dripped with conceit and self-importance. And the worst part - as I served them I noted the credit card – CIBC.
They were Canadian.
My heart was too enraged to sink – I was actually shaking with anger.
I realize it is a symptom of my own arrogance that I have high expectations of Canadians concerning polite behavior when visiting another country. As far as prejudices go, it is not a bad one to pander to.
I am generally very patient when it comes to all manner of quirky tourists, but when people are so proud and superior, I am not one of those women who can maintain her sickly sweet voice. My tone becomes detached and cold, my words slapping out of my mouth like meat on a table. I may even attempt to push extra contempt into each intonation.
“Now do we get one of these pins for our trouble,” she grunted, rummaging though the tiny brass castles.
I stared at her, hissing gently.
“Keeping in mind we are a charity…do help yourself.”
Of course she did.

Mini Tattoo

Great fun today out at Aberfeldy for the mini-tattoo. Except for the pouring rain right at the end. But that's Scotland. The drive there was beautiful - I had never seen heather in bloom like that - hillsides covered with the fragrant crunch of purple.

Some shots from the day: The Honda Imps Motorcycle Display Team, the Pipes and Drums, The Highland Dancers, The Trinidad and Tobago Defence Force Steel Orchestra and the Middlesex County Volunteers Fifes & Drums from the USA.

First night

It has started. I'm already so tired and it's only the first day. We're all working really hard, and there have been some gritting of teeth and even some tears. Tomrrow is the first Saturday, which is always difficult. I'm so exhausted now my mind feels like it is melting.

Here is a photo of the cast, minus the Blues and Royals and the motorcycle kids. I liked Taiwan and Russia the best. But I resent the use of "show me the way to amarillo" in the "history of military music section." It just gets stuck in my head and I hate that song

Must go bed. first drink much water. Then stretch. Then sleep.