The last little bit to move at my old place.
In life, there are moves and there are good moves.
A “move” is often the term used for a given course of action, particularly one involving bravery or bravado and occurring after a prolonged period of inaction.
Similarly, one’s approach with a romantic interest may be referred to as his/her “move”.
Three versions of Maid Marian (a 13th century character associated with Robin Hood), of which the more authentic outfit is that of the fox.
If there’s one aspect of medieval history I love most, it’s the clothing, especially women’s clothing.
The clothing, incidentally, is one of the aspects Hollywood most often get wrong.
Typically, this occurs through clothing styles from one century being mis-attributing to another. This despite what author Mary G. Houston writes in Medieval Costume in England and France: The 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries:
What can be more diverse than the noble simplicity of construction and natural silhouette of the thirteenth century, compared with the slender elegance of the fourteenth, and the riot of variety and exaggeration in the fifteenth century. (pp. v-vi)
Sunset at a Highway 401 rest stop
Unlike a lot Canadians, particularly those living in Ontario, I love that highway. The thought of going for a drive upon it fills me with excitement.
Highway “four-oh-one”, as its most commonly referred to – or to use its official name, the Macdonald-Cartier Freeway – spans about 818 km across southern Ontario from the Quebec border in the east to Windsor in the west, and in parts is one of busiest highways in the world.
At its widest where it crosses the populous city of Toronto and its suburban hinterlands, the highway’s girth stretches to an imposing 16 lanes, which, according to Wikipedia, makes it one of the widest highways in the world.
They are, in a nutshell, exorbitant, inappropriate, and not at all for the reasons the airlines would have us believe.
Let me back up a step.
Last week, to celebrate Easter as well as to use some of my overtime for a well-deserved break, I took a trip to Ontario.
I often wonder if I would have enjoyed living in medieval England as much as I do writing about it.
Obviously the answer to this question depends upon a few considerations. For example, does medieval me look the same as modern me? There’s no reason to expect she wouldn’t, in which case, I’ll defer to comedian and social critic Louis C.K. for a response:
How the hell did “write what you know become” the most opt-repeated piece of writing advice anyway?
Maybe it’s because it’s the first advice many of us ever received. Certainly it seems like it should be beginner advice.
I can see it perfectly: a student of sixteen or seventeen hunched over his/her desk at school, pencil in hand poised above a sheet of three-hole-punched, lined loose leaf.
(Am I totally dating myself with this memory in longhand? Do high school students even write by hand in school anymore? The pencil in this vision isn’t even mechanical).
What responsibility, if any, does a writer have to society?
This was the question I posted to the message board of the writer’s group I run to be the discussion topic for our next meeting.
I knew at the time of writing it that it was a provocative question – one that different people might interpret in different ways. Regardless, I was sure it would result in a lively, interesting discussion as my writer’s group meetings always are.
What I didn’t expect, however, was the overwrought response on the message board from an out-of-nowhere, aggrieved and impassioned troll.