The Seated View

The 2010 Bulwer-Lytton contest results are in and two Canadians are represented . David Mitchell on why being reminded of your own ignorance is good for you , Ascot hats and the news that grumpy people make better decisions which I plan to snarl at the next person who accuses me of not being chipper enough on a Monday morning. Slurls or really awful website names, how to make your own butter (via dottedyellowline ) and the classic Danish tongue twister that'll tell you if you should even try to learn the language. To get political, an exploration of the billion dollar summit mystery and photos from Saturday's peaceful protest hijacked by a small group of idiots. And from Laurie , some excellent photos of what the protest message was all about before it got overshadowed by aforementioned idiots. Staying within the political, but moving towards ecological, there's so much I want to say about the oil spill, but I simply don't have the words. Instead, a link to w

Have you heard of Zach Anner? If not, you're in for a treat. But first, a soapbox moment. Or two. The other day, I got one of those inspirational e-mails that circle the Internet on a regular basis. This one was a story about a blind boy sitting by a building with a hat by his feet, holding up a sign that said "I am blind, please help." Naturally, there were merely a few coins in the (no doubt tattered) hat. A good Samaritan walks by and takes it upon himself to change the sign (without asking) which miraculously has the effect of greatly increasing the donations. He goes by later to check on how things are, the boy naturally recognizes his footsteps and asks what he wrote on the sign. To which our esteemed Samaritan replies "I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way." He had written "today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it." This "beautiful" and "inspirational" story is called The Heart of Gratitude

It’s official. I’ve totally lost control of my life. I get up each morning to email in two places and a browser filled with open tabs – love the wee buggers, but if you start the day with that much work lurking, it’s hard not to feel like Sisyphus. The last couple of weeks before my injury, I constantly felt as if I was running so fast that I was always on the verge of tipping over and falling while reaching my hands out to catch the balls I'd been juggling as they started to fall, sure there were many more balls that I'd forgotten. When you're that busy, things like having a disability, being aware of your pain levels or managing your energy don't even register. Perhaps it's not surprising I didn't notice I was getting injured. When I wrote about my usual bogeyman when it comes to wrecking myself in this week's post for MyRACentral - use it while I have it because tomorrow I might not, all or nothing personality, meeting other people's needs befo

My latest MyRACentral post ponders the eternal question of why I can't learn to stop before I hurt myself: "It was as inevitable as the tides, the sun rising in the east and the Toronto Maple Leafs getting nowhere near the Stanley Cup finals." The rest of the post is here .

Things are looking different on The Seated View - I'm playing with the "new" Blogger template and so far, it's not perfect. Please have patience. Last weekend, we went to Woofstock - the annual dog festival. And there were a lot of dogs. Masses. A pair of beautiful spaniels started the day A Basselope waited patiently in line There were tough guys with tiny dogs Dogs all dressed up Dogs having a really good time Making new friends Having a cool treat (chicken flavoured snow cones) Showing off the new pedicure And zonked out after an exciting day on top of a new pedicure

I was at the Market the other day, getting myself some red leaf lettuce, leaves crinkled into tight waves of deepest green and darkest red, put a yellow pepper next to it, watching the colors spark off each other. Waiting to cash out, I made funny faces for a little boy in a stroller, not paying much attention to his mother who was similarly laden down with produce. Susanna cashed me out while we chatted amiably - I go there all the time and by now, it is about more than just an exchange of goods for money - and as I start backing up to leave, the mother of the little boy in the stroller said something to me. "I never knew how inaccessible the city is until this," she said, nodding to the stroller, "I get it now." It was one of those small moments, of connection, of reality, of two people truly seeing each other. Not always the case when you use a wheelchair - it tends to convey a sort of second skin over you, causing people to see only stereotype, their eyes slid

I'm stalled out. Again. I overdid a bit. Again. I didn't realize until it's too late. Again. Will I ever learn? After a week of sitting as still as I'm capable in an attempt to heal, there hasn't been much progress. I have thoroughly lost my sense of humour, but I'm not sure if that can be termed progress. Probably the opposite. I'm angry, frustrated and a whole host of other synonyms for a bubbling vat of resentment that my body gets to decide what I do. The way out is to do a 180 on my attitude, which I will. Eventually. I have to seethe some more first. However, to get the process started, I gave myself an assignment. Earlier this week I saw/read something - and I forget where because did I mention the vast quantities of painkillers? - where someone said they were writing a list of people who inspired them. This week, I've been thinking a lot about Laura Hillenbrand, the author of Seabiscuit who had chronic fatigue syndrome (the author, not the hor

My sister used to be a metalhead. I'm sure it's not a secret and if it was, I may be able to evade severe punishment by owning up to growing up in the 70s which meant the music I liked when I was a teenager is far more embarrassing. Which gets me - rather swiftly for me - to the point. Because I don't think being a metalhead is embarrassing (OK, some of the hairstyles associated with being a metalhead could be, but we're talking about music today, not fashion). And this is why. Janne and I spent a lot of time together growing up. Not only do we like each other a lot, as well as love each other – how lucky can you be that one of your best friends is your sister? - but a couple of things threw us together more than we might have otherwise. Because of my disability, I was probably home more than the average teen/early adult and there are 10 years between us. The ten-year gap meant that I was at times elected chaperone based on the thinking that an older sister was much l

This week on MyRACentral, I write about finding love when you live with a chronic illness: " When I was a teenager, I asked my mother if I'd ever find love. My friends were dating, but I'd never met a boy who could see me instead of the packaging I came in - my rheumatoid arthritis and my wheelchair blocked the way. It took some time, but as I, and the men I dated, grew older, it became easier to find someone who wasn't afraid of my RA or the wheelchair. But then, in 2004, my disease flared again, flared so intensely that I felt razed to the ground. That flare taught me just how hard RA can be on relationships, breaking bonds as it wrecks your body and a relationship of four years was destroyed in the wreckage." The rest of the post is here .

I rented Leap Year last week and it’s a good thing I had a coupon and got it for free or I would've been stomping back to the store, demanding my money back. Load of formulaic crap with the same amount of originality, soul and entertainment as a paint-by-numbers rendition of a stag by a lake. If you're in the mood to see this story - overly controlled urban woman seriously into planning goes to quaint, mostly rural area, somehow gets thrown together with a scruffy, handsome local man with a sexy name, they spend the majority of the movie bickering/falling in love while the woman through various humiliations learn to cut loose and be less uptight and they live happily ever after - rent The Proposal (Single Disc Widescreen) . Equally preposterous if you think about it, but you don't because in that one, the writing is good and the actors make it work. Leap Year? Not so much. Anyway! The test - because there's always some sort of test - that convinces formerly uptight c

But first we gathered at mor's for a multi-birthday celebration (suffice to say there were 5 birthday songs). Liam experimented with facial hair Morgan always starts the visit with being a barnacle on mormor A really excellent photo of Ken's knees (I'd forgotten to switch off the macro setting) Morgan's been bit by the photo bug - apparently it's genetic on her mother's side - and took this of Michele. Better than any of the ones I took ... Scott taught the next generation all about the iPod (we start early on obsessions in this family) and then we all went to my place to meet Lucy. She was in her glory - this much attention? This many hands? It's possible it was the best day of her life.

The last week’s been interesting, news-wise. Two issues in particular have poked at my rant gland and today seems like a good day for sharing. (rant gland?? Is there such a thing?). Rant #1: the G-20 summit. Or rather, the G-20 security budget. For those of you not living in Toronto and/or obsessively checking news of any big summits, the G-8 and G-20 summits will be happening in Ontario , G-8 in Huntsville , G-20 in Toronto . The estimated security budget for these events was $100 million. Seems a bit of a steep price, but if you consider how many "important people" are going to be needing security, the two locations, etc., it can add up, I guess. So far, not much of a news story, but wait for it, because here comes the interesting thing. In the past week it's come to light that the security bill for the G-20 summit is currently at $800 million. Yes, you heard that right (saw that right?). $800 million. Forecast to be $1.2 billion when all’s said and done, alth

Happy birthday to John/TinkPapa, who also starts the morning show at Oldies 1150 today! Live streamed here .