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A boy, maybe age 8, was confused about what he needed. He said he needed "chapter books about the human body," which sounded to me like two things - books about the human body for a school project, and chapter books, meaning junior fiction that is not a picture book, not a series, and not a graphic novel. But he was convinced he needed "chapter books about the human body." He would not be helped, casting aside everything I found for him, and getting increasingly frustrated. Following him around the library (it's a Sunday, so I'm working overtime, not at my own location), I ran into his parents and his older sister. Boy's Father said, "Is he giving you a hard time?" He said this nicely, not in a mean or menacing way. I said, "Oh no, he's fine. I'm just trying to understand what he's looking for." I had books from two popular funny series in my hands. Boy's Father took them from me and said, "No, this is garbage. We

I'm quite sure that Canadians who read this blog already know about this, and for others, it's not relevant. But I want to add my small voice to the chorus of progressive Canadians who are angry, hurt, and disgusted at the Ontario New Democratic Party. Thousands of Ontarians who would normally vote NDP are either voting Liberal, not voting, spoiling their ballot, or considering one of those options in the upcoming provincial election. If you are not Canadian and you are are interested in our once-progressive politics, you can read the email sent by 34 prominent NDP supporters to ONDP Leader Horwath . It's another tired re-run of a story we know too well. Time and again, progressive parties believe that they must shift to the right in order to broaden their appeal. Time and again, this strategy proves disastrous. So-called centrist voters and right-wing voters will vote for the real thing. Progressive people, when they find their party has abandoned its principles, find an

Sign!

Dear suburban GTA resident flying on Porter Airlines from Newark to Toronto: Since you were not talking to me, I was unable to respond to your erroneous statements. But since you were speaking loud enough for the entire plane to hear, I was easily able to determine that you have no idea what you are talking about. Here are some facts of which you clearly are not aware. 1. I'm glad you enjoyed your stay near the airport in Elizabeth, New Jersey. However, since you did not venture into New York City, you have no idea how the area near your hotel compares to any part of New York City. Elizabeth, NJ is Elizabeth, NJ. New York is New York. Proximity does not imply similarity. 2. Park Slope, where your friend lives, is not "a suburb of Manhattan". It is a neighbourhood in Brooklyn. Brooklyn and Manhattan have been part of the same city since 1898 . 3. Park Slope is not a "typical suburb". It is not a suburb at all. It is an affluent urban neighbourhood, served by mul

May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia , sometimes called IDAHO or IDAHOT. This day is the perfect example of how I view all social progress: we have come a long way, and we still have a long way to go. Come a long way: yesterday at the library, I put up a IDAHO display in the youth area. I found more gay- and lesbian-themed youth fiction than I could fit on the display. This filled me with such joy, knowing that gay and lesbian teens in my area can see their authentic selves reflected in the world around them, the way LGBT people in their parents' and grandparents' generations never could. Still have a long way to go: where to begin? Most LGBT people do not live in a world that accepts and affirms their lives. And millions live in a world that criminalizes their basic humanity. Please visit this page for 17 reasons we need May 17: #May17Because .

I've mentioned our wonderful accommodations in Giverny and outside Rouen, but each deserves a post of its own. I'll review them on TripAdvisor but for Googleability, I'd like to do more. Giverny: Les Jardins d'Helene In Giverny, for comfort, convenience, and an absolutely delightful stay at a very reasonable price, you can't do better than Les Jardins d'Helene . It's located about a 15-minute walk from Monet's house and gardens, on one easy, flat road. The house itself is a beautiful mix of traditional and contemporary design, and clearly a labour of love by a very creative person. Among the treasures are a collection of vintage cameras and radios, a collection of art and photography books, jazz LPs, and a beautiful library for French readers. I was travelling with my mother, a senior, and we needed two beds. We booked the "La Toccata" family suite that could comfortably accommodate a family of four, with a private bath, for €120, during the hi

We slept wonderfully in our beautiful little cabin, and the following morning we waited to see the other Canadians emerge from breakfast before we ventured out. I was amazed that my mother also didn't like them: she is so much friendlier and less curmudgeonly than me. We ran into them briefly, and we both had the distinct impression that they had been waiting to see us before they left. And there's Elisabeth, wearing a Maple Leaf pin! These people must travel with a bag of Maple Leaf pins to distribute! Yikes. Breakfast was the usual deliciousness of mini baguettes, croissants, homemade jams, butter and cheese, and this one included apple cake and chocolate cake. I cut a slice of each for Connie and she did not protest! We asked Elisabeth to take a picture of us together and I got a few of the garden and of our host. Elisabeth called a taxi and he took us right to the restaurant, where the polite and attentive Mathieu took our suitcases and said he would see us for lunch. The r

My plan for Rouen was a bit more complicated than it had to be. I was reasonably certain it would prove well worth it. There are many hotel options in Rouen, but they all left me unimpressed, mostly chain hotels or what sounded like dumps. I thought for the final night of our trip, we should do something special. I booked a room and dinner at a French country home about 25 minutes out of Rouen. My experience staying at French country homes has been very special, and I knew my mother would love it. I prepared her for the transportation issues, and hoped for the best. Our plan upon arriving in Rouen was to see if there is a consigne in the train station - a place where we could check our luggage while we enjoyed Rouen on our last day (which is tomorrow). No bag check. Amazingly, some of the Paris stations still have them, but many cities no longer do, for "security" reasons. We took a cab from the station to La Parenthese Normand , exactly as long (25 minutes) and at exactly t

I have a lot to write tonight, and only two fingers to write with, so I may have to post this in two parts. Yesterday, after we dried off, we rested for the afternoon. I remembered that our host needed payment in cash, so we asked about an ATM... and learned there is none in Giverny. Sandrine, our host, very nicely (and of necessity) offered to drive us into Vernon to use a machine there. On the way there, she asked about our last name. I suspected I knew why, and when she asked, "You are Jewish, no?" I knew I was right. She is also Jewish, the only Jewish person in the town of Giverny. She asked if I am "active with the community" - an interesting expression - and said that she is very active with the Jewish community in Paris. I have noticed that my last name, which is almost always mispronounced in the US and Canada, is always pronounced correctly by French people. In France, it's a known Jewish name. We had a lovely time chatting with Sandrine as she drove u

Keyboard I love my Nexus 7. I hate the Minisuit keyboard, although the problem might be Bluetooth. To blog, I need a keyboard, and I need to use Blogger via the website, as the Android app is too limited. (That seems silly, since Blogger is a Google product.) Using Blogger online with the onscreen keyboard is very inconvenient. I can't select, can't easily make links, and can barely see where I'm typing.  I've adjusted to the tiny Minisuit keyboard. I dislike typing with two fingers, but I can do it. But I will never adjust to the cursor suddenly moving into a different paragraph, or characters not appearing onscreen for two minutes, then appearing all at once.  What to do? PTSD This afternoon my mother confessed that the reason she didn't sleep last night is because she was worried about the strange noises I was making in my sleep. She won't say what she thought was happening (superstition) but I think she was worried that I was having a heart attack or some ot

We had quite a big day today! Most of it was completely wonderful. I woke up kicking myself that I forgot to take pictures of R and Connie and me. I had the camera with me precisely for that reason and never even thought of it. And by the way, R emailed from the Eurostar. They very nearly didn't let her on the train, but she did prevail. Connie and I didn't set our alarm this morning and slept until 8:40, which is like noon for non-morning people. We had one last breakfast at Au Tramway, but since today is Sunday, the bistro was well stocked with locals. There were young families and older men and small groups of friends. We were the only tourists. When we came out, the sidewalk in front of our hotel had been transformed into a market! When we arrived on Thursday we saw the tail-end of a market, but we had no idea when it would return or how extensive it would be. It was blocks and blocks long - stalls of vegetables and smelly cheeses and breads and seafood on ice, dozens of va

So it turns out it's not just my snoring that's keeping Connie up at night. It's noises "that sound like you're upset," says my mother. Allan recently told me that I cry or startle or semi-scream in my sleep on a regular basis. The incidents I think of as rare are not, in fact, rare. What's rare is my memory of them. I feel I must apologize for ever telling a fellow PTSD sufferer that it eventually goes away. I was 21 years old when I was raped. If it hasn't gone away by now, it obviously never will. Thank [something] I can sleep through whatever my subconscious is going through. I wish everyone could sleep through their own demons.

We are back in our cozy room after a long, fun day with R... who I very much hope is now on the train to London! Connie and I went to - you guessed it - Au Tramway for breakfast. We had the lovely petit dejeuner complet , with baguette, butter and jam, croissants, juice, and for me, plenty of coffee. Then we headed out to the Gare du Nord, hours in advance of meeting R's train, hoping to buy Connie a jacket or sweater.   Somehow my mom left her jacket at home in New Jersey. In fact, when we went to Le Bon Marche on our first day here, it was to buy her a sweater... until we realized that was a very expensive store, and not at all what we needed. She has been wearing my leather jacket, but today it was cool and rainy, and we needed something for each of us. We thought we might find a jacket in the train station itself, but although there were stores selling suitcases, scarves, and even underwear, there were no sweaters or jackets. Plus I had to convince ma merei  it was perfectly al

Connie and I were both dead to the world by 9:00 p.m., and when I next opened my eyes, it was 8:30 a.m. Yes! That's an unheard of amount of sleep for me, and I needed it. We had breakfast in the hotel and were soon back on the Metro. Since we didn't get the earliest of starts, by the time we got to the Musee D'Orsay, the queue/line/lineup (UK/US/Cda) was very long, snaking around a good eight or ten times. But no bother, we were patient and made our way in. The D'Orsay was Connie's number one site - as it had been mine on my last two trips to Paris - so we planned to spend the day there. We saw about half the museum, then had lunch at the restaurant, as opposed to the cafe. The menu  (i.e. prix fixe) no longer includes a quarter-litre of wine as it once did, but it was a full and wonderful meal... and I drank wine anyway. I notice Connie generally speaks English as if she's home, as if she expects everyone to speak her language. But my mom is not an "ugly A

Nous somme ici! Connie (my mother) and I got tired of killing time in her apartment and decided to have dinner at the airport. Somehow we managed to stay awake until our 11:30 flight, but my mom was asleep soon after takeoff. I, of course, was up all night, as I can't sleep sitting up, ever. I find that listening to music helps a lot, although it can be a long night when everyone else is snoring. The flight was perfectly normal and uneventful. I didn't even have to pay baggage overweight fees as I had been expecting. So based on this limited experience, thumbs-up for XL Airways France. We took a cab to our hotel. I chose a hotel further out of the centre than we normally would, The Hotel Sport , in the 12e, near the Bois de Vicennes. This allowed us a slightly upgraded room at a budget price, plus we love to stay in a more residential area. As soon as the cab pulled up, we were happy. We're in an archetypal Parisian - or European urban - neighbourhood: wide, tree-lined stre

I've had a busy and wonderful couple of days visiting family and friends. Today my mom and I are planning our sightseeing, packing, doing last-minute errands, and generally getting in vacation mode. What i'm writing on I'm loving my new Nexus 7 tablet ... with reservations, or perhaps just a learning curve. The tablet itself is terrific. Once I got up to speed with Android functionality and interface, it was obvious why people prefer tablets for most online activities, especially those with no or minimal typing. The Nexus is amazing - speed, portability, ease of use, everything. It is magnitudes better than the Samsung Galaxy I use at work; in fact, the Samsung was partly fueling my skepticism about tablets. The reservation is still the keyboard issue. I've reluctantly made my peace with touch-screen technology, and the on-screen keyboard with judicious use of predictive text works fine for minimal needs. But for actual writing... not so much. I bought a keyboard/case/s

From my Flickr page My mother said, "I want to go to Paris. I want to see Paris one more time while I'm still healthy enough and mobile enough to enjoy it. But..." - here comes the good part - "I have no one to go with." My mom's best friend passed away some years ago, and none of her other travel buddies are available anymore. I almost blurted out, "I'll go with you!" but I thought, better run this by Allan first. Allan and I have each taken small trips without the other, but never for a full vacation, and never to a place we both love so much. Not that Allan would ask me not to go, but just how bad would it make him feel? Fortunately, when we went to Spain last year , we made brief stops in both London and Paris, so the answer was, not as bad as it might have! I called my mom - "Remember you said you had no one to go to Paris with...?" - and she was over the moon. We talked a lot about what kind of trip it would be - what we wanted

John Homans' What's a Dog For? The Surprising History, Science, Philosophy, and Politics of Man's Best Friend is my kind of dog book. I don't care for memoirs of heartwarming doggie hijinks or heartbreaking rescue odysseys. I've lived those stories myself, and books of that sort don't advance my knowledge of the species I've shared most of my life with. I am endlessly fascinated by canine behaviour - by what we know, and don't know, about dogs. So is John Homans. Homans is the executive editor of New York magazine, and before he adopted his lab-mix Stella, was a relative novice about dogs and the human cultures that surround them. He became curious... and so we have this very informative and entertaining book. What's a Dog For? is a survey of canine science to date, and a history of the evolution of humans' relationship to the domesticated canine (that is, humans in one part of the world). Homans describes new trends in canine science, introduc