Virginia Woolf – Jam and Idleness

Measuring misery

Never mind that dramatic, emotionally wrought title: let’s talk about science. Specifically, let us consider how we may effectively communicate to one another, but especially to doctors, precisely how badly we are feeling as a result of winter illness. From your common cold to double pneumonia and the whole wondrous cornucopia of wracking joys between, I believe…

2015: Year of the Woolf

It’s been a satisfying and frustrating year; one of highs and lows, hope and something approaching despair (never actual despair; there would be no talking about full and ripe despair); productivity and slackness; the joyful and the maudlin…. Where am I going here? Straight to Dickens, it seems: 2015 really has encompassed the best and worst of…

Belonging

There’s a man in my neighbourhood I see nearly every time I leave the house and travel south. I think he suffers from some sort of mental illness, though I have no idea what. I know he hurts and sometimes screams his pain. When I see him, he is usually walking; still in his 40s, I think,…

And the silly good times, too

Having been accused of having a “lyrical” writing style because of my last post (about the glorious dearth of big-city noise pollution on Prince Edward Island), I thought I should also make it clear that, as my husband informed me last night: I can be funny, when I put my mind to it. That’s what he said: “You…

Saturday, housebound

I had big plans for this day. My husband’s sunning himself in Costa Rica (when he’s not being rained on by the rain that only happens in the jungle; the kind of rain that, when it hits you, feels like it’s landing a blow, like it’s exacting revenge); I’d looked forward to a good urban…