Pinging from Manhattan

I'm home with cattitude and julian_tiger and glad to be so: the problem with having family and friends scattered around several countries is that they're inconveniently far from each other. I unpacked, and confirmed that my incredibly compact all-purpose cardigan is still in Montreal; I suspect it's either on a chair in the long room, or in denim bag. papersky, rysmiel, please keep an eye out for it. I also discovered that I had inadvertently packed the card they gave fivemack for the winter holidays; I may send it back there, or on to Britain if I can find Tom's address quickly.

Today's agenda is physical therapy, playing with Julian, maybe some local errands, and a bit of housecleaning to the extent that my right arm (not the shoulder, this time) is amenable. I will probably also read back some in LJ--I was giving it a very minimal skim while in Montreal--but if there's anything you specifically need me to see/know/respond to, email or other non-broadcast methods would be sensible.

Pinging from Manhattan

I'm home with cattitude and julian_tiger and glad to be so: the problem with having family and friends scattered around several countries is that they're inconveniently far from each other. I unpacked, and confirmed that my incredibly compact all-purpose cardigan is still in Montreal; I suspect it's either on a chair in the long room, or in denim bag. papersky, rysmiel, please keep an eye out for it. I also discovered that I had inadvertently packed the card they gave fivemack for the winter holidays; I may send it back there, or on to Britain if I can find Tom's address quickly.

Today's agenda is physical therapy, playing with Julian, maybe some local errands, and a bit of housecleaning to the extent that my right arm (not the shoulder, this time) is amenable. I will probably also read back some in LJ--I was giving it a very minimal skim while in Montreal--but if there's anything you specifically need me to see/know/respond to, email or other non-broadcast methods would be sensible.

Physical therapy

I think it was a good PT session. I mentioned the sore upper arm to the person doing the ultrasound, and she massaged that as well as the shoulder. Sixta (the physical therapist) did some good, deep massage on both shoulders, the back of my neck, and again that tender spot. We couldn't figure out anything that would have been the obvious cause/trigger for the arm pain, which is unfortunate, because it means I don't know how to avoid repeating it.

I've booked for 8:15 next Thursday, because the 9:00 this morning wound up being ten. I don't mind getting home at 11 when I have the day off; I do mind not getting to work until noon.

Physical therapy

I think it was a good PT session. I mentioned the sore upper arm to the person doing the ultrasound, and she massaged that as well as the shoulder. Sixta (the physical therapist) did some good, deep massage on both shoulders, the back of my neck, and again that tender spot. We couldn't figure out anything that would have been the obvious cause/trigger for the arm pain, which is unfortunate, because it means I don't know how to avoid repeating it.

I've booked for 8:15 next Thursday, because the 9:00 this morning wound up being ten. I don't mind getting home at 11 when I have the day off; I do mind not getting to work until noon.

This is not the American you're looking for

I ran into actual, directed-at-me (rather than the government) anti-Americanism on Wednesday, for the first time in my life.

I was on the Montreal Metro, with rysmiel, zorinth, and fivemack, on our way to a museum. We had to change trains at Berri-UQAM, and walked past a newsstand. I decided I could use a packet of tissues, so I went in, picked it up, walked over to the proprietor, and said my usual "Bonjour hi" and asked the price. He said "Seventy-five cents. Canadian." I said "Of course Canadian, we're in Canada." He said something about the influence of the large country to the south, and I agreed mildly. This continued for a couple more exchanges, which ended with him saying that he wished they could be Canadian without "licking the ass of the monkey in the White House," and I told him that if he figured out a way, please let me know. And then I walked out of the shop, with my purchase, and described the conversation to Rysmiel, who gave me some useful context: Berri is the Metro stop for the Montreal Greyhound station, meaning it's where a lot of clueless American college students turn up, often with no Canadian funds.

I didn't realize until a bit later that the man had been trying to start a fight, which I didn't give him because he hadn't said anything I disagreed with. If he wants an argument, he'll have to go next door, this is getting-hit-on-the-head lessons try again. It shouldn't take long, with that attitude and set of ripostes.

The other thing I realized was that this was the first time in my life, in numerous visits to Canada and the UK, a couple of quick trips across the Mexican border, and vacations in Hong Kong and Paris. The only person in Paris who visibly noticed my Americanness responded by urging me to visit the World War II monuments, celebrating the victory of his country and mine over the Nazis. I didn't take his advice, art museums and random street wandering being more my speed, but it was entirely sympathetic.

This is not the American you're looking for

I ran into actual, directed-at-me (rather than the government) anti-Americanism on Wednesday, for the first time in my life.

I was on the Montreal Metro, with rysmiel, zorinth, and fivemack, on our way to a museum. We had to change trains at Berri-UQAM, and walked past a newsstand. I decided I could use a packet of tissues, so I went in, picked it up, walked over to the proprietor, and said my usual "Bonjour hi" and asked the price. He said "Seventy-five cents. Canadian." I said "Of course Canadian, we're in Canada." He said something about the influence of the large country to the south, and I agreed mildly. This continued for a couple more exchanges, which ended with him saying that he wished they could be Canadian without "licking the ass of the monkey in the White House," and I told him that if he figured out a way, please let me know. And then I walked out of the shop, with my purchase, and described the conversation to Rysmiel, who gave me some useful context: Berri is the Metro stop for the Montreal Greyhound station, meaning it's where a lot of clueless American college students turn up, often with no Canadian funds.

I didn't realize until a bit later that the man had been trying to start a fight, which I didn't give him because he hadn't said anything I disagreed with. If he wants an argument, he'll have to go next door, this is getting-hit-on-the-head lessons try again. It shouldn't take long, with that attitude and set of ripostes.

The other thing I realized was that this was the first time in my life, in numerous visits to Canada and the UK, a couple of quick trips across the Mexican border, and vacations in Hong Kong and Paris. The only person in Paris who visibly noticed my Americanness responded by urging me to visit the World War II monuments, celebrating the victory of his country and mine over the Nazis. I didn't take his advice, art museums and random street wandering being more my speed, but it was entirely sympathetic.

Meta: New Year's resolutions

I don't do New Year's resolutions: for me, they feel artificial and ineffective. (This is a statement like "I don't eat peanut butter", not intended to generalize beyond the speaker.)

Thus, I'm also not going to be answering the "what do you want from $poster in 2006" meme. Well, that and because it feels presumptuous and/or at the wrong level. For the most part, what I want from my friends in 2006 is what I wanted from them in 2005: that's how friendship works for me. I may want or need specific things from people--either specific people, or my friends as a group--and some of those needs may be in 2006, but they're not predictable. I'm not planning a wedding or the birth or adoption of a child or a graduation, a significant event that can be predicted in advance.

Meta: New Year's resolutions

I don't do New Year's resolutions: for me, they feel artificial and ineffective. (This is a statement like "I don't eat peanut butter", not intended to generalize beyond the speaker.)

Thus, I'm also not going to be answering the "what do you want from $poster in 2006" meme. Well, that and because it feels presumptuous and/or at the wrong level. For the most part, what I want from my friends in 2006 is what I wanted from them in 2005: that's how friendship works for me. I may want or need specific things from people--either specific people, or my friends as a group--and some of those needs may be in 2006, but they're not predictable. I'm not planning a wedding or the birth or adoption of a child or a graduation, a significant event that can be predicted in advance.

Misc. Montreal notes

• I have finally tried poutine, having told rysmiel and papersky that they had omitted introducing me to it on previous trips. It was, perhaps inevitably, on the menu as "Poutine a la Vladimir" [1] and was warm and comforting. I doubt it will ever be My Favorite Thing, nor yet displace roast duck congee on my list of comfort foods, but I liked it. So, I think, did fivemack, to whom it was also new.


• By the time I got to the airport yesterday, my feet were cold and damp inside my boots; I changed boots, and socks, after checking in for the flight and before clearing Customs, and now need to figure out whether the boots are non-waterproof and need chemical assistance, or whether I just didn't lace them properly. It had gotten up to just above freezing, so instead of quiet respectable snow, or icy surfaces to be wary on, we had large amounts of slush at every intersection, stuff that gets into one's boots in a way that ice or even fresh fluffy snow doesn't. This is why, while -15 is no kind of fun, -3 is easier to deal with than +1.


• Idly reading a Metro ad that included the word "jamais," used in a fairly common construction that comes into English as "more than ever," I idly thought "Jamais est jamas" [2], hit the homophone "Hamas" (the organization), stopped dead, took a moment to pull my brain back together, and realized that I'd run into a linguistic crash involving three languages, in none of which I am fluent and one of which I don't speak beyond a very few casual words.


• While I had a little trouble sleeping with the Christmas tree lights on the first night, having neglected to ask how to turn them off, once I did find that out, it was convenient to have a bit of light to find my way to bed by.

There's probably more, and thus I'll probably post again later, but this is part of an effort not to spam everyone's friends lists.

[1] That joke doesn't work in English (and isn't, imho, very funny in French); transliteration of Cyrillic depends on the destination language, and the president of Russia's name, in French, is homographic with the food.
[2] Those are the French and one of the Spanish words for "never"

Misc. Montreal notes

• I have finally tried poutine, having told rysmiel and papersky that they had omitted introducing me to it on previous trips. It was, perhaps inevitably, on the menu as "Poutine a la Vladimir" [1] and was warm and comforting. I doubt it will ever be My Favorite Thing, nor yet displace roast duck congee on my list of comfort foods, but I liked it. So, I think, did fivemack, to whom it was also new.


• By the time I got to the airport yesterday, my feet were cold and damp inside my boots; I changed boots, and socks, after checking in for the flight and before clearing Customs, and now need to figure out whether the boots are non-waterproof and need chemical assistance, or whether I just didn't lace them properly. It had gotten up to just above freezing, so instead of quiet respectable snow, or icy surfaces to be wary on, we had large amounts of slush at every intersection, stuff that gets into one's boots in a way that ice or even fresh fluffy snow doesn't. This is why, while -15 is no kind of fun, -3 is easier to deal with than +1.


• Idly reading a Metro ad that included the word "jamais," used in a fairly common construction that comes into English as "more than ever," I idly thought "Jamais est jamas" [2], hit the homophone "Hamas" (the organization), stopped dead, took a moment to pull my brain back together, and realized that I'd run into a linguistic crash involving three languages, in none of which I am fluent and one of which I don't speak beyond a very few casual words.


• While I had a little trouble sleeping with the Christmas tree lights on the first night, having neglected to ask how to turn them off, once I did find that out, it was convenient to have a bit of light to find my way to bed by.

There's probably more, and thus I'll probably post again later, but this is part of an effort not to spam everyone's friends lists.

[1] That joke doesn't work in English (and isn't, imho, very funny in French); transliteration of Cyrillic depends on the destination language, and the president of Russia's name, in French, is homographic with the food.
[2] Those are the French and one of the Spanish words for "never"

I don't know where my cat is

I didn't see julian_tiger during the day, after he did the "Hello, you're home" thing when I got back from physical therapy. I didn't think much of it at first--cats hide, cats nap, cats have their own agendas, and what I had for lunch wasn't something he likes. I went looking for him in the late afternoon, without luck.

When cattitude got home, we did a more thorough search of the apartment, and then went through the building, top to bottom on both sides. Double-checked the closets, and even the big dutch oven that Artemis hid in once.

Cattitude is now outside, looking for Julian. My best guess is that he slipped out while I was signing the window guard and lead paint forms for the super. (The city of New York requires all renters to periodically either say "please give us window guards" or "no children under ten years old live here", and now also to state whether anyone under seven lives in the apartment.) If so, he's been out somewhere all day. [Cattitude has now returned, cat-less; it's too dark to look, but the bodega hasn't seen him.]

I don't know where my cat is

I didn't see julian_tiger during the day, after he did the "Hello, you're home" thing when I got back from physical therapy. I didn't think much of it at first--cats hide, cats nap, cats have their own agendas, and what I had for lunch wasn't something he likes. I went looking for him in the late afternoon, without luck.

When cattitude got home, we did a more thorough search of the apartment, and then went through the building, top to bottom on both sides. Double-checked the closets, and even the big dutch oven that Artemis hid in once.

Cattitude is now outside, looking for Julian. My best guess is that he slipped out while I was signing the window guard and lead paint forms for the super. (The city of New York requires all renters to periodically either say "please give us window guards" or "no children under ten years old live here", and now also to state whether anyone under seven lives in the apartment.) If so, he's been out somewhere all day. [Cattitude has now returned, cat-less; it's too dark to look, but the bodega hasn't seen him.]

Tiger is home!

Our downstairs neighbor just rang the doorbell. They'd found our cat, and he was happily in their apartment, with their two cats--in fact, I had some trouble extracting him and bringing him back up here. They hadn't even had time to see our signs: they'd just rung our bell because they believed we had a cat, and in fact our neighbor began by apologizing for ringing the bell so late, before asking if we had a cat.

I pulled julian_tiger from under their coffee table, where he'd run when I first tried to pick him up, and carried him upstairs and in, squirming. He is now crunching his kibble, and I expect him to pull his fresh bowl of milk over any moment.

Tiger is home!

Our downstairs neighbor just rang the doorbell. They'd found our cat, and he was happily in their apartment, with their two cats--in fact, I had some trouble extracting him and bringing him back up here. They hadn't even had time to see our signs: they'd just rung our bell because they believed we had a cat, and in fact our neighbor began by apologizing for ringing the bell so late, before asking if we had a cat.

I pulled julian_tiger from under their coffee table, where he'd run when I first tried to pick him up, and carried him upstairs and in, squirming. He is now crunching his kibble, and I expect him to pull his fresh bowl of milk over any moment.