June 2008 Archives

Souris was founded by Acadians in 1727 as a fishing settlement. These early settlers experienced several plagues of field mice in the surrounding area during the 1720s-1760s and the name for the town is derived from the French word for mouse. In Flemish the Dutch word for mouse is also used as a connotation for a woman's private parts. In Dutch Dutch the word puss (poes) is preferred for the same purpose. Cats and mice, it is said that there are no other two neighbouring countries in the world with greater cultural differences than Holland and Belgium. Now I wonder about French. No, I don't suppose the French would use souris. Or would they?

Good thing I didn't have the whole article when I did the drawing, I would have added a million more details. Oscar Garschagen wrote the saga of rural China on a mere newspaper page. He should do a TV series, it would be Dr Zhivago and Coronation Street combined, in Chinese. Or Heimat.

I promised a shoe shopping photo, so here it is. She didn't find me many shoes though. I went and got a pair of very sensible Clarks today. I have a very sensible son too, his report card came in the mail today. For math and science it says: "His efforts, strong interest and enjoyment are commendable". We are very proud. But the word started to puzzle me, what does commendable mean? I asked around, and I got explanations, but yeah, I figured that much myself. Neighbour Kristen came closest, but that's not fair she's a lawyer, she knows words. The dictionary says: "To represent as worthy, qualified, or desirable; recommend." And: "worthy of high praise", which is music to my ears. So would it maybe translate to "prijzenswaardig"? Or rather "voorbeeldig"? And we are also commendably proud to announce that yes, as of September Otger is admitted in MaST completely. This past term he was only in math and science, but now they really want him. Victory!

This one was more work than I thought, I had serious drawing cramp. I took a bike ride to the bakery before finishing the last match box. And Piffin and I did a lovely spaghetti Bolognese (a full three hour simmer) with a salad of broad beans. And Brick Street Baguette.

Nothing to blog equals blogging a cat. Two cats. Cats from lovely Polish match boxes that I am using in my Poland drawing. That I'll show tomorrow. I was waiting for Piffin to come home with the camera, and blog a photo, but she's staying out too late. She went shoe shopping with her friend. I urgently need to go shoe shopping myself, but I don't have time, so I told her to take pictures of all the shoes she thought I'd like. That way I only have to go to one store, smart huh? And it would have been very Blackbirdlike to blog shoe shopping photo's, but she's staying out too late. What can you do.

I thought nineteen was a strange number for a series. And then the editor mails me France has traded places with Poland, but there was no France in my list. And the series starts this Saturday, with China. It's okay, I know I am not making sense. But it's twice a week from now on, and I promised my menopausal magazine two drawings, I thought I would just have enough time, so it turns out I don't. And then I come down with a cold. At any rate, I finished this one, which was planned for this Saturday, but isn't now. And I did two menopausal sketches. Top right corner is me.

Not done, but getting there. I'll even have time for grocery shopping tomorrow, auntie Michelle will be so happy. So what can I offer you. I can offer you George Carlin, who died today. God bless his soul. For all you Dutchies who think all North Americans are rednecks. Enjoy.

Evert did some research on the name Otger, see Friday's comments. I hadn't done that in a while, there is so much more there to find than before. I remember when Michiel found the name. I was pregnant, and Michiel went through the (paper) encyclopedia, starting from A. We wanted to find a name we liked and had never heard of before. An old name to recycle. Piffin's name had been new, and it had been quite an effort to get it registered officially. And that was in tolerant city of Rotterdam, Otger was going to be born in the very conservative city of Stuttgart, so we had to play it safe. Michiel found Otger by the time he got to O in the encyclopedia, it was as simple as that. The seas of time we had back then are unimaginable now. Nobody ever tells you that your forties will be the busiest time in your llife, but they sure are.

Some of the very interesting information on Otger:

There were many Anglo-Saxon missionaries who preached the Faith in these areas, generally northern Netherlands, in the time of Willibrord (some already mentioned). They are Adelbert, Engelmund, two named Ewald, Swithbert (Swietbert), Werenfried, Boniface, and after Willibrord: Lebuinus, Marcellinus, Willehad, Wiro, Plechelmus and Otger. The last three were Anglo-Saxon preachers, born in Northumbria, who ministered to the Frisians. Plechelmus served in the area of Twente. King Pepin gave the Church area of Sint Odilienberg, in about 750, to Wiro, who founded there with Plechelmus and Otger a monastic community and a chapel to Our Lady. The three saints are buried there. Since Sint Odilienberg was deeded to the Bishop of Utrecht in 858, their relics were transferred and are held in Utrecht. Bishop Balderik donated the head of Saint Plechelmus to the Church of Oldenzaal in 954 or 955. The remainder of the relics were transferred to the Church of the Holy Spirit at Roermond in the 16th Century (Saint Christofer Cathedral). The feast day of Saint Plechelmus, Wiro and Otger is July 15th. (Another source shows Saint Wiro's feast day as May 8th.) Of him we know that he was probably born in 739.

It doesn't really work, keeping the door shut. Neighbour Garnet startled me by throwing pebbles at my window. I looked up, not wearing my glasses, and I saw a scary silhouette of a doll on the porch railing. But Garnet was holding up his one-year-old. Little Francesca always comes by to pet Orbit. They are used to just walking in. I am not going to keep it up long, this locking myself in. Did I tell you -no I didn't- that Otger is calling himself Roger at school?! Nobody can pronounce Otger, so I guess he gave up on it. I was talking to one of his classmate's mom last night at the parent council meeting. She told me my son is called Roger. Solid advice: always make sure to attend parent council meetings. It is amazing what you can find out there.

Michiel is back from Montreal. Can anybody tell me why they didn't name this street Rue Reine? The strangest thing happened today. I often leave the front door open, because everybody keeps walking in and out, and I don't want to have to get up all the time to get the door. So I was working, and I heard some moving around in the little hallway behind our front door, and I thought nothing of it, I kept working. But it lasted longer than seemed necessary to come in, so I got up and walked to the hallway. And there was this big black guy in my hallway! He had even shut the front door behind him, and there was hardly enough room for him in the tiny hallway. In half of a split second I realized that if this guy meant harm, I was totally defenseless, so I decided to trust him. I opened the hallway door, and politely inquired what he wanted. He asked me if I had rooms. No, I don't have rooms, I am sorry. Bye bye!

Michiel called from Montreal. He flew to Montreal for a meeting, my important husband. From the Centre Airport in a small plane with a banker, some add business people and one family. About fitting right in, no kidding. His hotel room has a bathroom the size of a soccer field, he demonstrated it on the phone by counting hollow sounding steps. And a double bath. And two TV's and a giant flat screen with game consoles. And I am not there with him. And they really do speak French in Montreal. It was Otger's first day of the great big nothing until September. Yesterday he had to go to guidance because of the great big schedule shuffle for next school year. They made him trade geography for gym. I laughed so loud...

My next world drawing should be about Canada, of all places. But it isn't written yet. Which is just as well, because before that, I am going to cover the end of the world. It seems near, we are enjoying thunderstorm after thunderstorm here.

If you stand in front of traffic dangerously enough, everybody will start honking whether they are celebrating or not. Sounds very festive. Betty's wasn't enough anymore today. It was full, so the café next door was annexed too. By the end of the championship this particular stretch of King East will be called Little Holland, mark my words. And the press was in time, this time around. I could be in The Sun tomorrow morning, le jour de gloire est arrivé! Canadians are still getting accustomed to the soccer experience. It took a full half hour to get someone to turn off the music in Betty's. And what I wouldn't give for Dutch commentary, Grand Dieu! Canadian TV makes it sound like a hockey game. A third generation immigrant called David asked me if I was Dutch reformed. That was the first time in my entire life that I was ever asked if I am Dutch reformed. David had never met anyone Dutch who wasn't. I bought him a good catholic beer, to mark the occasion. Photo credit goes to Ron, whose dear wife sat on my lap in the second half.

The spots on the left hand side of the image are dirt on my scanner glass. I know exactly what it is, it is glue from the top of my sketch pad. It's been there for months, and in stead of cleaning the glass, I always patch up my scans. I have gotten to know the shapes and sizes of the stains, and I have grown accustomed to them. Piffin is plastering the guest room, it is coming along nicely. Everybody was working hard today, it was like a good vibe in the house. Otger studied for tomorrow's science exam. Even Michiel was working from home, because he wasn't getting enough peace and quiet at the office. He read something to me, and I thought he was reading from a book. But he wrote it himself, this paladin of mine. And Orbit is as good as new, the only thing is, he is obsessed with food. Hungry all day, I can't explain it.

Funny, I just mentioned bowel cancer yesterday, I had no idea. He was five days older than Michiel, and also had two kids. Fokke and Sukke are funny. Adriaan's last weblog entry is, I don't know what. Impressive, I guess.

I don't know why I still have these days. I am old, and my conceiving days are over. But then, as my neighbour Kristen, a wise woman, pointed out to me, why would these days start happening at thirteen years of age, for that matter. We cannot turn nature off and on as we please. And nature has been good to me, I am the last one to complain. I have a healthy son and a healthy daughter, they materialized in my womb, no test tubes involved, they were born on our own bed, and I nursed them with my own two breasts that are cancer free to this day. Things that one would wish normal on everybody. One would think. The Dutch government may well fall over this wish. Doctors are now able to determine whether an embryo of just a few cells carries an hereditary form of breast cancer. Or bowel cancer. They were already doing Huntington's and something else, it doesn't come to me now. It's just two terrible illnesses more. But there is a Christian splinter in government, it was needed to form a majority, complicated. And I am so sure that had it just been the bowel cancer, it would have been silently added to the available medical arsenal. But breasts make these Christian men rise and preach hell and damnation. They call it ethics, but that's their way of fooling us.

Earlier:
Toronto is slowly colouring orange. I saw a little Chinese boy on his way to school wearing a van Nistelrooij shirt.

Later:
The Chinese boy turned out to be a good luck charm. It took the Star and CTV until the 88th minute of the game to realize Betty's was the place to be, and not Little Italy. By the time the CTV guy did his live thing in Betty's, the Dutch fans were long on their way, honking their horns and waving their flags on College.

I am going to do a lot of world blogging this summer, but it will be great fun. Our man in Tehran has a blog and he posted this clip yesterday, it's hilarious. The Abjeez, Persian slang for sister ... and that’s just what they are - Safoura and Melody Safavi. Backed by a colorful crew of musicians, the two abjee’s present their own original brand of Persian world pop! This should be a nr. 1 hit record on this side of the ocean, and the sisters could be Nobel Peace Prize candidates... (Canadians: there is a moose in there)

Make sure to watch this one too.

These are all the foreign correspondents whose articles I am going to illustrate this summer. I emailed them all today, and the man in Moscow got back to me instantly. Hurray for the man in Moscow. No west coast, and no Australia, that is kind of odd. I've got my summer planned full proof and tight shut now, and I think I am up to it. Funny enough today is the first real sweltering day, I almost have itching hair roots. Itching hair roots are the threshold of unbearability. And when I'm done in September, my friend Klaartje will come to Toronto, yay. I have something to work forward to. And now it is the weekend. Cheers.

I definitely think Orbit is doing a little better. He is lying between my feet, I can hardly sit. He is after-enjoying the skin bits of tonight's rainbow trout. I could have given him Michiel's part, who is getting drunk at an Autodesk deck party, but I decided against that. I'm done with all this Fabeltjeskrant business for now, just as I was starting to like it. But there is more of that coming I believe. Der Rubel muss rollen. Speaking of languages. I promised the kids to blog the latest fantastic Anglicism. You can't blame them for mixing up their languages. Usually it is Otger, he is our master mixer, since birth. (Remember his "short cutje"? We are still saying that, I wrote down another one this week, but I forgot where.) Today it was Piffin, who is usually very pure. "Daar moet je voor uitpassen", she said.

A friend's mother borrowed me a book. She had liked it so much, she told me, that she had gotten the sequel from the library. I read the book and I liked it too, it almost made me cry. And then Michiel read it, and started fulminating about women's literature. And he returned it to the library. Tonight, the friend's mother dropped by. She is flying back to England tomorrow, and wanted the book back, because she had to return it to the friend she borrowed it from. Damn! We returned a book to the library that wasn't a library book, I just assumed. Now I understand that time when Otger was given a book by the library, he found it on their shelf, but it wasn't in their computer. Michiel immediately went to the library, but nobody was able to locate the book. So he bought a copy in the bookstore. The friend in England will be happy.

I called the vet. And then I booked a car and called Michiel. Orbit always knows when we are talking about him, of course he does. He hadn't moved for three hours, but when I made the calls, he got up, tail up, ate, drank and peed. So I decided to cancel the vet, and the car, and Michiel. Orbit did a Lazarus on us, just like that. And tonight our neighbour Pete From Across The Street (we always joke that that is his name, because that is how he identifies himself on the phone) brought him a big bone. A bone worthy to live a day longer for. Orbit is not out of the woods, he is very weak. But without the meds he is certainly experiencing a little quality of life.

I deftly refrained from working on the weekend. I am on a schedule now, I feel very professional. Sleeping on the couch beside the computer, but that is because Orbit is now so sick that we can't carry him upstairs anymore. And he can't be left alone either. I didn't go to the vet today, because I was afraid she wouldn't think him sick enough for euthanasia. And I don't want to be sent home with new doses of heavy medication doing nothing but knock him out and make him poop, pee and vomit all over the place. He can't keep his pills down anymore anyhow. I am going to call the vet first thing tomorrow morning.