Can't get enough of this song

Snotty play frowned upon

It is 3:50 p.m. After spending two and a bit hours in line to get a ticket, friend L.  returned to the Tom Brown arena, Ottawa, at her appointed 3 p.m. time for H1N1 inoculation with her one-year-old child.


She is now, reportedly, overdressed as she thought she'd be standing in the rain (as previously) with child while they waited.

Instead, they are in holding tents with other parents and children. Her child, G., at last report was eating an arrowroot cookie and "deciding if he should be upset."

There is no playing; it is, therefore, very loud due to numbers and louder still with upset children who want to shove sticky fingers up each others' noses. Inoculation tent etiquette, as Laura tells me, precludes that, as anybody could be sick. Even though they are all there to be inoculated.

"Oh, no, G. just sneezed. Now everyone is looking at him," she says.


Anyone else read Blindness?

H1N1, artfully experienced?

One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors. — Plato

I remain frustratingly undecided about being inoculated against H1N1 — but I have some time to decide. Weeks, in my case, not just the four+ hours many are spending to get tickets or be told to come back tomorrow — as sources are reporting is the case in Ottawa. (The Gatineau clinics stopped taking any more names as of early this morning.)

Friend L., mother of one-year-old G., has ventured into the fray today. Their plan is for L. to go stand in line while baby waits at home with dad, to be brought only when required.

They're using me as update link, particularly with reference to the alleged wristband process (a process which may or may not be implemented today; not, according to staff at the Tom Brown arena via L. who, as a lawyer and nervous mother, can question almost as well as a journalist).

We're told there will be a presser about this before the clinics open at 2:30 p.m. When it happens, I will call to inform L of the details, so she ca then inform those running the clinic what they should be doing. ... as they have told her they have no way of knowing what the City is planning after the presser occurs. sigh.

A breakthrough has been made, though. The choice of arena as clinic location no longer eludes L. She informs the choice was not for added parking, as those coming for the vaccine are not allowed to use the parking lot — even though it is rather empty. Nor was it picked for the space to keep those hundreds in queue warm, as the inoculatees — those who are most vulnerable, including the very young, elderly, ill and pregnant — must wait outside ... to then take off their jackets, roll up their sleeves and be inoculated outside.

Wise of the city, really. Arenas are such awful places to sit and sip hot cocoa. And hold so few people.

"They picked this arena so we could be soothed by the brown and orange view. The ambience is just perfect," she said.

Am beginning to wonder if the entire process is not some grand installation art piece commenting on the effect of fear-mongering on people's tolerance levels. Or make us begin to love the 70s architecture of our community centre/arenas as a source of glorious, yet elusive warmth (and bathrooms). Or, it is a way to decimate population numbers. Who needs voters, anyway.

After this debacle of distribution, I remain convinced stockpiling in case of real emergency should be a choice for Ottawa's citizens. In this relatively mild emergency, where are their trained and experienced emergency preparedness staff? And, if there are none - forbid - why not make use of those who can manage and distribute required vaccinations/goods? The Red Cross office is a few blocks over, oh Mayor and council. The army is a baseball's throw away.


Hell, I'd do a better job.

All (Hallow's) Eve read

Have written about this chap before, but care not. If you are at all seeking a good novel to read (and you should be) and/or seeking something intelligent and not too dreadful as Hallowe'en fare I recommend this series by Phil Rickman. Not a vampire to be found, I fear, rather a very foibled Anglican priest (female) who finds herself the area exorcist. In tiny villages on the border between Wales and England. oooOOooOOoooOOoo old churches and pagan worship.

Great characterization, a little spook, some mystery and well crafted prose = good times, my friend. Have just received this latest softcover series installment and am planning a good hermitage to enjoy it.

On Monday. Erg. Tuesday. Got that sleep study Monday night.

Not sure how they expect anyone to sleep well with people watching you through a two-way mirror*. Still not sure if I am allowed to bring my own pillow and duvet. Hospital blankets always suck. Someone please explain to me how airlines can get it better.

*what friend L. predicts shall occur, with my prancing about all evening taunting them.

Devastation

Have inadvertantly uncovered information which has left me sobbing at almost 4 a.m. in the morning.

And I'm wondering now, why? What good do these tears? Why be so affected?

Just shut it off, whispers my old, comfortable friend lurking not so unconsciously in my head. What silliness is this pain; what stupidity to allow it to be. Why feel anything at all?



These are the moments when I need to run. Dangerous ground, this.

... where I channel a teen boy and eat cereal for dinner

I have these memories of my brother inhaling bowl after bowl of cereal as soon as he came home from school (while watching Indiana Jones, the theme song for which is now engraved in my song-lexicon forever).

Seems this is a common enough practice for teen boys for reasons which are beyond me as the cereal of choice (Shreddies — Captain Crunch, on occasion) is often not of the satiating sort — not that so much starch ever can be, to me. *shudder*

Obviously, cereal's appeal as snack/meal probably had much to do with ease, demands of growing belly and how petulant Indie becomes if he and his whip are not being watched at precisely 4 p.m. For the 16,134th time.

Now as an adult, having been finally convinced of the merits of eating thrice a day, I am struggling against the demands of nutritionists. Frankly, though I can eat a lot I can not consume as much as "is recommended" or even as laid out as daily instructions.

After trying to appease them in battle to help my body heal, it is time to reassert that I have intrinsic, physical preferences.

(We're getting to the cereal.)

Notably: I prefer a lighter meal in the evening, more protein than starch at breakfast (fish and eggs sounds perfect, thank you) and a more substantial meal at lunch time, work permitting — so long as it does not include pasta as that will make want to fall asleep. Protein in almost any form, sans over processing, is always welcome.

Cereal, therefore, is not something I find palatable first thing in the morning. This includes the high-protein, soy-based-but-very-processed cereals I have tried in an attempt to get more of the protein, grains and nuts needed in my diet. (Those popular refined, sugary cereals will never darken my doors.)

Sadly, my foray through the muesli, organic, granola, health-food-store varieties have been uninspiring (and expensive); too sweet, too light, too disgusting for a meal or even snack, taking ages for me to consume.

Even the quinoa cereals — originally thought a winner — disappointed, though Canada's Gogo Quinoa's cereal would be perfect for the cocoa-puff addict trying to wean themselves towards something more healthy.

Now, why not make my own quinoa with milk as snack or granola for storing and eating as I wish? Well, I could. I do, on occasion but frankly, I'm not a weekly or even monthly granola-maker type. Maybe eventually, but not now.

And luckily I do not have to as I stumbled across some (not very cheap) cereal at my local Independent Grocer that fits my needs precisely. Take note, stockists and get some on your shelves.

Dorset Cereal is crafted just outside Dartmouth, England — that's in Dorset to those who do not know. I say crafted because everything about the stuff smacks of cottage industry (though there was obviously some cunning marketing behind the packaging design of the quaint box).

I cannot tell you what a joy it was to pick up the package and read only whole ingredients listed.

According to their website they make cereals of many varieties, including porridge, bars and a new sweetened cereal for kids. I was faced with a much more limited choice, but decided to buy the fruit, nut and seeds variety which includes 45 per cent of the above and multi-grain flakes.

It is called muesli on their website but it is like no muesli I have ever had, as it stays intact through liberal dousing with milk.

What can I say about its contents? Not sweet as I feared, but not bitter. Everything in it is identifiable in your bowl: dried apricot, raisins, whole hazelnuts, almonds, full grains of various sorts, pumpkin and sunflower seeds.

It's refreshing in its clean-ness and a small bowl is enough, even for a quick dinner after a late-night in the newsroom. I even had it for breakfast a few times, happily. Shocking.

Now, the cereal is not the highest in protein per 60g (6g) nor lowest in calories (230 cal) or sodium (20mg) or fibre (4g) but who cares? It contains all the seeds and nuts you need in one little box without any excess, chemical fuss or content (or added salt). The UK Vegetarian Society also approves.

With this cereal in hand, I'll gladly take more ribbing from my friends that I am, in fact, a pubescent male and leave the weird cranberry-flavoured stuff that comes in huge boxes with unnatural sounding ingredients that lasts only a week to them. So there.

(I do recommend, if you buy, shaking the package a bit as the banana flakes tend to drift to the bottom. My last bowl was a vervet monkey's dream. )

Sadly, last time I was at the store there was none to be found on the shelves. Please, if you do find some, let me know where it is. I have a whole massive line to get through to find my favourites.