<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?>
<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
<title>three dots …</title>
<subtitle>The blog of an elliptical human</subtitle>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/feed" rel="self"/>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca"/>
<updated>2025-06-16T11:34:18+00:00</updated>
<id>http://threedots.ca</id>
<author>
<name>Alan Rempel</name>
</author>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Upon the one and the many]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/upon-the-one-and-the-many"/>
<updated>2025-06-16T11:22:09+00:00</updated>
<published>2025-04-22T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/upon-the-one-and-the-many</id>
<summary><![CDATA[My colleagues are often surprised to hear that my bachelor's degree is not in geography, but in ancient philosophy. That said, many topics in ancient Greek philosophy turn out to be highly relevant in my professional life--not least of which is the One and the Many.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>My colleagues are often surprised, when they ask me about my background, to hear that my bachelor's degree is not in, say, geography, or anything else that yields the most remote connection to my current line of work,—but in classics—or, as I usually put it, ancient philosophy (so as not to give the impression that I know anything about, for example, ancient Roman history).</p><p>That said, many topics in ancient Greek philosophy turn out to be highly relevant in my professional life—not least of which is the One and the Many. For it often happens, as Plato understood well, that what appear to us as many things turn out to be one—and what we perceive as one thing falls apart, upon examination, into many.</p><p>For example, suppose you have a map of Ontario which has an inset map enlarging the densely populated southern tip of the province: Is this <em>one</em> map that has one inset, or is it <em>many</em> maps, i.e. two, a main map and an inset map?</p><p>Another example: some people have many opinions about baby names; I, however, only have one, and it is this: there should be more babies named Orlando. Observe: the name Orlando is borne by two of the greatest composers in the history of the world—Messrs. <em>di Lasso</em> and <em>Gibbons</em>. Why, then, should this name no longer be considered worthy of the children of this generation, whose culture is so indebted to those geniuses' efforts?</p><p>—But is this truly <em>one</em> opinion, or <em>many</em>? For it seems I believe (1) that Orlando is a noble and excellent name, (1a) for which the evidence is that it belongs to two so excellent and noble composers, yet (2) very few babies are now named Orlando, and (3) this is unjust. What would Plato say about that?</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On peppercorns]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/on-peppercorns"/>
<updated>2024-06-04T20:49:18+00:00</updated>
<published>2024-05-26T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/on-peppercorns</id>
<summary><![CDATA[Sometimes when I am grinding some black pepper over my scrambled eggs, I find it hard to stop.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>If you invite me over for supper, you must keep watch over your peppercorns! For if I turn the pepper-grinder once, you may be sure I will turn it twice; and if I turn it twice, I will be unable to resist turning it once more; dare I stop at four? five? ah! how sweet it is to lose count! to turn, turn without ceasing! oh! what is that pleasant aroma? how it steals my senses all away! ——</p><p>Unless, that is, you have sought my presence for the very purpose of getting rid of excess peppercorns! I am not aware that anyone has yet employed this tactic. — And what sort of person ever thinks to themself, "Hm! What has my kitchen in excess? Peppercorns!" —? I must admit this is improbable.</p><p>— Then why should the thought enter my head? Do I not concern myself daily with the <em>probable</em> above all else? Am I perhaps unconsciously drawn to the notion? Dare I admit that I find it desirable — nay, delectable — to think on: "Oh, Three Dots! My house is whelmed with the aroma of pepper — my nose cannot tolerate it! Here — the blandest soup — the plainest fish! Grind, oh, grind these horrid corns without ceasing! Consume them with haste!"</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On text editors]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/on-text-editors"/>
<updated>2024-02-21T02:10:56+00:00</updated>
<published>2023-11-29T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/on-text-editors</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I was at the store the other day buying some backslashes when I noticed a funny thing on the shelf beside the checkout: a book titled Practical Vim. What an odd title, I thought.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I was at the store the other day buying some backslashes when I noticed a funny thing on the shelf beside the checkout: a book titled <a href="https://www.vim.org/"><em>Practical Vim</em></a>. What an odd title, I thought. If a person wants above all a <em>practical</em> text editor, I'm not sure <a href="https://www.vim.org/">Vim</a>’s what I'd recommend. For one thing, it uses up backslashes at a truly staggering rate – but maybe that's just me. If you don't type stuff like <code>:%s/\v\((\d+)\/(\d+)\/(\d{4})\)/\3-\1-\2</code> all the time, like I do, it's probably not so bad. And that's even with “<a href="https://vimhelp.org/pattern.txt.html#%2Fmagic">very magic</a>†switched on! At least <em>Practical Vim</em> tells you to use “very magicâ€, according to the blurb on the back. Good advice – ‘practical’, even – although I wouldn't shell out 30 bucks for it. I sure don't envy those who don't know about “very magicâ€, though. Just imagine their backslash bills! In this economy!</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Freshly boiled water]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/freshly-boiled-water"/>
<updated>2023-10-20T02:58:47+00:00</updated>
<published>2023-10-19T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/freshly-boiled-water</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I take such pleasure every morning in pouring boiling water over first Jocelyn's tea bag, then mine, and seeing the rich red-brown cloud of flavour instantly blossom out from each in turn and grow to fill each cup.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I take such pleasure every morning in pouring boiling water over first Jocelyn's tea bag, then mine, and seeing the rich red-brown cloud of flavour instantly blossom out from each in turn and grow to fill each cup. Except the water is not literally boiling at that point, is it?—it loses heat in the course of being poured. And there is always a little span of time between the shutting off of the kettle and the pouring of the tea – poised though I may be over the counter, teacups already prepared, I can only react and move the kettle so quickly. Persons wise in these matters say that black tea should be brewed with boiling water: but is that even possible?</p><p>—Further, is it desirable? For the truth is, the glorious cloud of tannins does not always bloom forth from the tea bag with equal swiftness – so I have observed; some cups of tea are potent and cheering, others weak and piteous. You may expect the latter to result from water that is not hot enough, and that is certainly true; my contention, however, is that it can equally arise from water that is <strong>too hot</strong>. My informal experimentation suggests that a delay of a second or two after the water boils – really a mere lack of haste in pouring the water – greatly benefits the quality of the resulting tea.</p><p>You might point out that this is just how normal people make tea and that only I would ever aspire to transfer boiling water onto a teabag instantaneously. That is true, but I believe my observations are still a valuable prelude to an as-yet-unfertilized area of research. Shanti Tea, a highly regarded Canadian tea distributor, <a href="https://www.shantitea.ca/home/blog_article/st/122635/dial-it-in-water-temperature-by-tea-type">says that black teas should be brewed at 93–100 degrees Celsius</a>. That is a range of seven entire degrees! On the one hand, this accords with my hypothesis; on the other, I suspect that this range can be narrowed considerably with careful experimentation.</p><p>The optimal brewing temperature for coffee has long been thought to be 200 degrees Fahrenheit, plus or minus five; <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-020-73341-4">scientists have found, however, that the precise temperature turns out not to matter much on its own</a>. When similar research is done upon the brewing temperature of tea, what will be revealed? Will the temperature turn out not to make such a difference as is commonly supposed? Or will it turn out – as I conjecture – that tea plays by different rules than coffee, and that 98-degree water is required for a proper brew?</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On the destruction of the Queensway]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/queensway-destruction"/>
<updated>2022-10-30T22:37:01+00:00</updated>
<published>2022-07-08T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/queensway-destruction</id>
<summary><![CDATA[It's no secret that I despise the Queensway – the controlled-access highway that runs straight through the middle of Ottawa. As fond as I am of the thought of its destruction, though, I am fonder still of thoughts of what could replace it.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>It's no secret that I despise the Queensway – the controlled-access highway that runs straight through the middle of Ottawa in a more-or-less east-west direction. Its eight lanes and its on-ramps and off-ramps take up so much precious urban space, and the traffic entering and exiting it overwhelms the surrounding road network. As fond as I am of the thought of its destruction, though, I am fonder still of thoughts of what could replace it. There's no sense in emitting a bunch of carbon dioxide to demolish a highway if you don't provide more emissions-free transportation in its stead.</p><p>Indeed, I think emissions-free human transportation should be the main use of the Queensway right-of-way. An elevated light rail line seems like an obvious choice, running roughly parallel to the O-Train line 1. The problem is that there would be no good place for such a line to connect with line 2 – the Queensway passes a bit too far south of Gladstone for a convenient transfer at Corso Italia station. For that reason, I imagine that this line would run in the Queensway right-of-way from Lees station westward until Bronson, then diving underground and emerging in the median of Carling Avenue. Stations could be located at Lees, Main, Bank, Bronson, Dow's Lake, and at about 800-1000-metre intervals along Carling until Lincoln Fields.</p><p>However, I actually think that a bicycle route would be a more important use of that right-of-way. (This could certainly run alongside a light rail line; space is ample.) My reasoning is that safe and comfortable bicycle routes are much scarcer in Ottawa than safe and comfortable public transit – in fact, on transit there's virtually no question of safety at all. Moreover, there simply is no continuous, high-capacity east-west bicycle route across the city at all (analogous to the O-Train Line 1). The existing east-west routes are incomplete, fragmented, and low-capacity.</p><p>I envision a grand bicycle-way, about 4.5 metres wide, allowing for side-by-side riding in both directions. (This is what I mean by ‘high-capacity’ – all cycling infrastructure is generally assumed to require cyclists to ride single-file.) Alongside it would run a wide pedestrian pathway – perhaps 3.5 metres – with periodic benches and other appropriate furniture. Both pathways would be well-lit and shaded by a canopy of trees.</p><p>Together, these pathways plus space between them and on either side (for trees, etc.) would only take up perhaps 12 metres of width. That's not even as wide as four lanes of highway (each highway lane is probably at least 3.5 metres wide). This would therefore still leave quite a bit of width available for various other uses. There could be parks in some places along the route; elsewhere – especially in Centretown – new streets and buildings could be built. I am also fond of the idea of an regional rail line that would connect Ottawa and its suburbs to surrounding communities – so that one could, for example, take the train out to Almonte for a day-trip.</p><p>One question is the crossing of the Rideau canal. It would be best for the bicycle and pedestrian paths to cross via the Pretoria bridge, so that no one need ascend and descend. (Or a new lifting bridge could be built, I suppose.) Perhaps a separate elevated automobile bridge over the canal should be retained, so that space on the Pretoria bridge can be re-allocated for pedestrians and cyclists – maybe even exclusively for them.</p><p>The benefits of the destruction of the Queensway would not be limited to that right-of-way, but would also extend to adjacent streets. Metcalfe, O'Connor, and Kent streets, for example, are clearly designed as traffic arteries connecting the Queensway to downtown. These streets could be redesigned to give more space to pedestrians, cyclists, and trees. One can even imagine more creative uses for excess road width – such as a little canal, in which children could race homemade boats, ducks could splash, etc.</p><p>On the whole, I think that the role the Queensway plays in Ottawa's transportation network and street design is, although acknowledged to be important, yet taken for granted. There is a need to engage the powers of the imagination to picture alternatives to this state of affairs in order to persuade a motorist that a Queensway-less Ottawa is plausible.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Luna]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/pinto"/>
<updated>2023-10-20T14:25:50+00:00</updated>
<published>2022-03-20T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/pinto</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>We got our cat, <strike>Pinto</strike> Luna, more than seven months ago now, and each day since then she has become lovelier and softer and more elegant and more delightful.</p>
<figure>
<img src="/assets/Pinto-on-top.jpg" alt="A black cat named Pinto sitting on top of her cat tree, looking directly and calmly at you with big round eyes.">
</figure>
<p></p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Tannins]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/tannins"/>
<updated>2021-06-10T19:38:17+00:00</updated>
<published>2021-05-18T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/tannins</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I have fallen lately into the habit, when I make some tea for myself or for Jocelyn, of afterward taking the just-steeped tea-bag in my hand and crushing it in my hand.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I have fallen lately into the habit, when I make some tea for myself or for Jocelyn, of afterward taking the just-steeped tea-bag in my hand and crushing it, squeezing out the remaining concentrated tea and letting it flow, tannin-rich like a bed of red pine needles in the boreal forest in the summer, through my fingers and down to my wrist.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Compline in tranquil air]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/compline-in-tranquil-air"/>
<updated>2021-03-09T14:37:37+00:00</updated>
<published>2021-03-08T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/compline-in-tranquil-air</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>If one is singing Compline outdoors in the wintertime at night, it is a very wonderful thing if the air is completely tranquil, so that one's candle-flame hardly quavers, much less thinks of blowing out. I am very grateful on such occasions.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On chickpeas]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/chickpeas"/>
<updated>2021-04-09T13:45:08+00:00</updated>
<published>2021-03-04T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/chickpeas</id>
<summary><![CDATA[Whenever I open a can of chickpeas, I find myself soon engrossed in removing their transparent skins, one by one …]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Whenever I open up and rinse a can of chickpeas, I find myself idly picking one up and with two fingers swiftly slipping off its transparent skin—and then another—a satisfying sensation: soon I am engrossed in plucking off each of their slippery coats one by one. I know I have other things to do—chop sweet potatoes, for instance—my better judgement protests, but my hands are borne away, unheeding, until every last chickpea gleams pure <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chickpea"><em>kabuli</em></a>-yellow, unrefracted by its natal cloak.</p><p>I am told that shorn chickpeas make <a href="https://smittenkitchen.com/2013/01/ethereally-smooth-hummus/">the smoothest hummus</a>. But I do not want the smoothest hummus; I want only to stand at the sink shelling chickpeas until the sun sets.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On pumpkin seeds]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/pumpkin-seeds"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:40:13+00:00</updated>
<published>2021-01-27T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/pumpkin-seeds</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>It makes me glad to hear pumpkin seeds pop as they toast in the oven.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Clamanda]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/leckie-clamanda"/>
<updated>2022-06-25T03:06:37+00:00</updated>
<published>2020-12-18T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/leckie-clamanda</id>
<summary><![CDATA[As I was reading Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie, I came across a song that turned out to be a translation of Clamanda, from the Sacred Harp.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>As I was reading <em>Ancillary Justice</em> by Ann Leckie last night, I came across a familiar-looking song that Breq, the protagonist, sings to herself as she ventures off on a daring mission:</p><blockquote><p><em>Oh, have you gone to the battlefield<br>Armored and well armed?<br>And shall dreadful events<br>Force you to drop your weapons?</em></p></blockquote><p>It struck me immediately that this was a paraphrase – as though it had been translated into Breq's native tongue and back into English – of <em>Clamanda</em>, from the page 42 of the <em>Sacred Harp</em>:</p><blockquote><p><em>Oh, have you ventured to the field<br>Well armed with helmet, sword, and shield?<br>And shall the world, with dread alarms,<br>Compel you now to ground your arms?</em></p></blockquote><p>I was intrigued. Does Ann Leckie know of the Sacred Harp? It would not be surprising. Certainly she seems to be a lover of songs and choral music: her main character sings to herself continually and is fond of collecting songs from the societies that she visits. Leckie also has a music degree from Washington University in St Louis, Missouri.</p><p>It turned out that my intuition was right! The book's postscript includes an interview with Ann Leckie in which she reveals that she is a shape-note singing aficionado, and tells the reader that the song quoted above is indeed from the Sacred Harp, as I had suspected. She even gives a plug for shape note singing:</p><blockquote><p>… I wish people felt freer to sing, and freer to enjoy people around them singing.</p><p>It's one of the things I love about shape note singing—there's no audition, no question of whether or not your voice is good enough, or whether anyone has talent. You love to sing? Come sing!</p></blockquote><p>In the book, Breq is described as having a not especially nice-sounding voice, and that some of those around her are annoyed by her constant humming. She doesn't mind.</p><p>In general, I really appreciated the specific cultural details that <em>Ancillary Justice</em> shows in its depiction of characters and of societies; Breq's love of songs is an example of this.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Piranesi at night]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/piranesi-at-night"/>
<updated>2022-06-25T02:57:30+00:00</updated>
<published>2020-11-01T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/piranesi-at-night</id>
<summary><![CDATA[Last night I woke up at 2:30 am and could not return to sleep. Eventually I lit a candle and finished reading my novel, Piranesi.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Last night I woke up at 2:30 am and could not return to sleep. After tossing around for an hour, I migrated to the living room, lit a candle, and finished reading my novel, <a href="/books/piranesi">Piranesi</a>:—a beautiful book, I thought afterward, an almost perfect book. It was shorter than expected; I wanted to read more;—but what, I thought, could be added to it that could not possibly diminish it?—Nothing.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On editing]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/editing"/>
<updated>2021-03-09T14:29:55+00:00</updated>
<published>2020-10-16T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/editing</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I once dropped my semicolons between the boards of the front porch: I rescued them with a bent m-dash.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Semicolon—or m-dash?<br>—Why not both?</p><p>A nice thing about dashes, incidentally,——<br>is that they are are telescoping.</p><p>I once dropped my house-keys<br>between the boards of the front porch;———————<br>I rescued them with a bent coat-hanger.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On jaywalking]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/on-jaywalking"/>
<updated>2022-06-25T02:55:56+00:00</updated>
<published>2020-09-09T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/on-jaywalking</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<figure class="quotation font-size-3 max-width-bigger">
<blockquote>
<p>Before the American city could be physically reconstructed to accommodate automobiles, its streets had to be socially reconstructed as places where cars belong.</p>
</blockquote>
<figcaption>
Peter D. Norton,
<a
href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0262141000"
><cite>Fighting Traffic</cite
></a>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>It's hard to imagine just how much safer and more pleasant city streets could be for people walking if you take it for granted that most of the space in a street has to be for cars alone.</p><p>For me, reading the article – “<a href="https://slate.com/human-interest/2009/11/a-defense-of-jaywalking.html">A Defense of Jaywalking</a>†– in which the above quotation appeared – catalyzed a shift in perspective: I learned not only that, before the 1920s or so, streets were public spaces where people could frolic as they pleased (and how could it have been otherwise?),—but also that the social change which allowed streets to become segregated into automobile and pedestrian rights-of-way was brought about – initially against widespread public opposition – mainly by the persistent lobbying and campaigning of automobile companies. It is to their advertising campaigns that we owe the word ‘jaywalk’: the car manufacturers successfully persuaded people that walking across the street, of all things, was dangerous and foolhardy.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On oomancy]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/oomancy"/>
<updated>2022-07-05T22:19:08+00:00</updated>
<published>2020-09-09T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/oomancy</id>
<summary><![CDATA[Yesterday evening we had friends over to our apartment for our weekly oomancy session. As I was sweeping the floor in anticipation of their arrival, I reflected upon the first time I tried my hand at oomancy.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Yesterday evening we had friends over to our apartment for our weekly oomancy session. As I was sweeping the floor in anticipation of their arrival, I reflected upon the first time I tried my hand at oomancy. Or perhaps, I muse, oomancy tried its hand at me: I had not intended to use the eggs for divination, but does it not in retrospect seem possible—even likely—that divination took place?</p><p>—My apologies to the uninitiated: Oomancy is divination by means of eggs. <em>Oo</em> means ‘eggs’ (think <em>ovo</em>, but without the ‘v’), and <em>mancy</em> means ‘, divination by means of’. Put it together and you have ‘eggs, divination by means of’. I only learned this quite recently myself.</p><p>This particular morning was my assigned day to bring breakfast to share after the small religious service that took place in the Student Union Building early on Wednesday mornings, which I was accustomed to attend intermittently. I had decided to bring a variation on my family's traditional weekend breakfast: fresh blueberry muffins and medium-boiled eggs. Unfortunately, I insisted upon the <em>being-fresh</em> of the muffins at the expense of my presence at the service: that is, I baked them the morning of, rather than (as would have been sensible) the night before.</p><p>I arose too late; I measured too carefully; I spent too long whisking the eggs; the hour to leave for the service passed me by. I said to myself, “No matter! I shall move with haste and outstrip the passage of the minutes!†Of course the passage of the minutes was indifferent to my haste.</p><p>—You who are wise in egg-boiling will know that there is no way of knowing whether the eggs are done (without cracking the egg open and thereby destroying the integrity of the boiled-egg experience): the only way to cook them the way you want to is to time them <em>exactly</em>. You may also have the wisdom to know what I forgot: namely that a compulsive <em>haste</em> and a desire to bend the passage of <em>time</em> are inimical to exactitude.</p><p>In any case, I arrived at the SUB, shuffling in sheepishly to the room shortly after the service had ended, and set my out breakfast-cargo on the table. Upon seeing the eggs, my friend remarked that I had brought no implements with which to crack them: I, to whom, although sympathetic towards this point, it would never had occurred to bring utensils for that purpose, could think of no course of action but to demonstrate my family’s traditional method of egg-cracking, namely, knocking the egg firmly against the forehead:—and smashed the runny, undercooked egg all over my face.</p><p>For my friend's part, he told me, his mirth more than made up for the loss of the eggs. As for me, I was embarrassed and bemused, and ascribed to the episode no more significance than as a lesson to hallow the timing of boiling eggs. Now, though, I am inclined to wonder: what mystical meaning did this <em>ovum</em> wish to communicate to me? Does a spiritual residue of its yolk still reside upon my forehead? What might the science of oomancy have to say about this event? Will I ever see clearly its true signification?</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[The trees]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/the-trees"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:40:43+00:00</updated>
<published>2019-11-21T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/the-trees</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>This city is a strange place—so much of it is paved.</p><p>The trees here—it must be lonely for them, not being in a forest; stretching their roots out and finding soil compacted by cement, soil sparse of arboreal conversation.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On the semicolon]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/on-the-semicolon"/>
<updated>2022-06-25T03:57:07+00:00</updated>
<published>2019-11-18T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/on-the-semicolon</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I have always been an ardent advocate for our undersung punctuation marks; the semicolon unquestionably counts among them.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I have always been an ardent advocate for our undersung punctuation marks; the semicolon unquestionably counts among them. Fortunately, there are others whose advocacy is more effective than mine. I am told, for instance, that <em>Semicolon</em> by Cecelia Watson makes an eloquent and persuasive case for the semicolon's excellence, nobility, and versatility – and for the beauty that both it and its companion marks add to the language as a whole.</p><p>In <a href="https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/dot-your-commas" title="Dot your commas – The Spectator">his review of <em>Semicolon</em></a>, David Crystal shows us how a comparison between different ways of punctuating the same sentence illustrates different punctuations marks’ powers. These powers can indeed only be shown by example, not explained in written rules. The semicolon, David writes,</p><blockquote><p>… does a job that no other punctuation mark does. And the way to see this is to develop a sense of the contrast. What happens if we punctuate a sentence differently?</p></blockquote><p>I hope you feel inspired, next time you pick up your favourite writing utensil, to play around with punctuation a bit, and thereby learn to appreciate the unique personality of each mark!</p>
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</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Holy Communion on Harry Lake]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/holy-communion-on-harry-lake"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:42:03+00:00</updated>
<published>2019-10-27T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/holy-communion-on-harry-lake</id>
<summary><![CDATA[An early winter morning; mist over the lake; a service leaflet bursts into flames.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>At this year’s Fall Retreat at Mersey River Chalets, Holy Communion on the lake took place at 7:00 am, which was later than in the past – last year I think it was at 6:45. The temperature had dropped below zero overnight, so the grass and the leaves upon it were frosty, and there was a thin layer of ice on the lake, and mist drifting over it. It was quite beautiful.</p><p>I had printed leaflets containing the order of worship and the music for the service, including English Gradual set to plainchant and hymns. To illuminate these – for it was still dark outside (although already a little lighter than at 5:30 am, when I had my vigil slot) – we each had a beeswax taper. I was holding my taper and leaflet in the same hand, in order to keep my other hand in my pocket for warmth, switching hands every few minutes.</p><p>While we were singing the Nicene Creed, my friend Sophia, who was standing beside me, pointed out to me that my service leaflet was on fire. We both tried to blow it out, but to no avail – the fire just got bigger. As it was becoming apparent that my hand would soon get burned if I did not relinquish the paper, someone – it may have been Alison, who was standing on my other side – suggested, either by word or by gesture, I forget which, that I drop it on the ground and stomp the fire out. I did so, and the fire was rapidly extinguished.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[BCP]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/oxford-bcp"/>
<updated>2021-03-09T14:20:05+00:00</updated>
<published>2019-09-27T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/oxford-bcp</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I want to buy this Oxford UP edition of the Book of Common Prayer; but maybe I only want to want it, not to have it.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I want to buy this Oxford UP edition of the Book of Common Prayer – it includes the 1549, 1552, and 1662 editions! plus introduction and endnotes and other nice ancillary bits – that I saw at <a href="https://bookmanager.com/1163574/?q=h">Bookmark</a> the other day. I don’t know if I even want to buy it that badly; – it introduces some novelty, it’s fun buying books, it’s a way to get out of the house, I like spending time in bookstores; I don’t know.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[My to-do list]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/to-do-list"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:43:10+00:00</updated>
<published>2018-07-10T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/to-do-list</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I have a secret to-do list. Unfortunately, it’s easy for me to forget what is on it.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I have a secret to-do list. The problem with this to-do list is that it’s easy for me to forget what is on it. Because it’s not anywhere extant in writing—that’s how secret it is. If it were recorded anywhere outside my mind, it wouldn’t be so secret. Even if were perfectly hidden from the eyes of others, I would still know where it was and would be tempted to look at it. So it would be a secret from all others, but not from me. If it’s not written down, I can’t look at it, and so it can be a secret from me too—just to the extent that I don’t remember I have it. But this is the trouble, that in order to preserve its secrecy, I don’t often call it to mind—or, I sometimes call to mind individual items that happen to be on the list, but not often in the context of the list, and I very rarely think of the list as a whole. And the trouble is that because of this, I run the risk of forgetting its structure—and should I forget the structure of the list, even if I remember, individually and not necessarily at the same time, each of its items,—then the list is no longer. Because it exists only in my mind, you see—there’s nothing and no one else to testify to it.</p>
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</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Purple sparks]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/purple-sparks"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:43:01+00:00</updated>
<published>2018-07-07T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/purple-sparks</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I used to be able to make purple sparks shoot from my fingertips. I just had to snap my fingers at just the right angle, with just the right force, when the humidity was just right …]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I used to be able to make purple sparks shoot from my fingertips. I just had to snap my fingers at just the right angle, with just the right force, when the humidity was just right, when my hair was tied up in a bun in just the right way …</p><p>It's been about a year and a half now since I've done it. The thought of the sparks has hardly crossed my mind—has avoided it, even—in the intervening time. It is a terrible thing: every so often, there is a day when I know that, should I snap my fingers with care, the sparks ought to come—and if they don't? I fear that; it would be a revelation to me that the sparks have left me. I think I’m afraid of finding out for certain that I’ve lost the sparks. So long as I forbid myself from attempting it, I am spared the force of this loss.</p><p>Logically speaking, even if I try and fail—and even if I fail under just the same circumstances under which I used to find success,—that need not mean that I’ve lost my purple sparks permanently. Perhaps there is some other necessary condition that I wasn’t aware of. Or perhaps the sparks will return in their own time. I don't know whether this logic will persuade me to courage.</p>
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</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[What do I have in my pockets?]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/pocket-contents"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:42:51+00:00</updated>
<published>2018-03-02T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/pocket-contents</id>
<summary><![CDATA[In which I have to blow my nose.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>A beeswax taper—<br>A wrapper from a Hershey kiss—<br>A phone—<br>A pen—<br>A tissue—<br>A recording device (borrowed from a friend)—<br>A notebook—<br>A university ID card—<br>A debit card—<br>A house key—<br>Two dollars & eighty-five cents—<br>One of those cards you can peel off of a McDonald’s coffee cup where once you have seven stickers you get a free drink—<br>A cork—<br>A grocery receipt—<br>An ATM receipt—<br>Another pen—<br>An almond—<br>A pamphlet from a recent winter retreat—<br>A scrap of paper with a poem written on it (“Great Things Have Happened†by Alden Nolan), and—thank heavens!—<br>A tissue.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[Mersey River, after compline]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/winter-retreat-after-compline"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:41:44+00:00</updated>
<published>2018-02-05T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/winter-retreat-after-compline</id>
<summary><![CDATA[The river sings, louder than the wind, unceasing roaring: ‘Eternal praise, eternal praise!’]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Two nights ago, after singing Compline across the lake, after everyone else had dispersed, drifted back either to the dining hall or to their own cabins: Nick Halley and I standing on the edge of the frozen lake, looking out and marveling, and resting alert and in awe, in the company of the wind and of the snow and of the trees and of each other. The clouds were moving swiftly across the sky—indistinct in the darkness, but as they passed within a certain radius of the moon their outlines were illuminated. The moon’s light ebbed and grew stronger as clouds came and went in front of it.</p><p>The river is <em>marvellous</em>: louder than the wind, unceasing roaring, a joyous clamour surging from the heart of the Kejimkujik forest. ‘Eternal praise, eternal praise!’—singing with all its might …</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[At Duncan St and Chebucto Lane]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/duncan-st"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:41:33+00:00</updated>
<published>2017-06-09T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/duncan-st</id>
<summary><![CDATA[As I was walking down Duncan street, I came across a tree that had a face; I was accosted by children; my life plans were interrogated.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>As I was walking down Duncan street last Sunday evening, I came across a tree that had a face: eyes, a nose, and a mouth affixed to its bark. I paused to admire it and take a picture—but at this point I was accosted by a couple of children who were hanging out in the yard of the house to my left. Fortunately, being accosted by children happens to number among my favourite hobbies. So we struck up a conversation. They asked me how old I was.—Twenty, I replied; they asked, as though it followed naturally,—Are you married?—No, I said.—Why not? they said. You’re twenty years old, you’re tall, you have long and luscious hair (perhaps they said ‘flowing’ instead of ‘luscious’, I don’t remember): what are you waiting for?—I told them that I felt I was in no particular hurry, that I have so many other things in my life occupying my attention, and that——Nonsense, they said. Here’s what you should do. The next girl you see, you go up to her and say, “Hello! My name isâ€â€“what’s your name, again?—Alan.—“Hello! My name is Alan! Do you want to get married?â€â€”Wouldn’t that seem a bit abrupt? I said.—I guess so, said the one.—Hey! said the other, no, do this: The next girl you see, give her some flowers, and then she’ll like you and ask <em>you</em> to marry <em>her</em>!—I told them I liked this plan better.</p>
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</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[On skating]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/skating"/>
<updated>2021-03-09T14:18:44+00:00</updated>
<published>2017-02-19T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/skating</id>
<summary><![CDATA[While skating at the Oval this afternoon with a few friends, I felt compelled to offer an explanation for why I was alternating smooth skating with bouts of stumbling.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>While skating at the Oval this afternoon with a few friends, I felt compelled to offer an explanation for why I was alternating smooth skating with bouts of stumbling: “Sometimes I space out for a moment and I’m no longer in the zone! But I just take a moment to centre myself and it's all right.†My friend thought this remark expressed a truth about my essence. No doubt he was right, but I also think my skates were not laced tightly enough.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[The Parisian baguette]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/parisian-baguette"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:40:02+00:00</updated>
<published>2016-12-15T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/parisian-baguette</id>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I made a remark shortly after I came in the door—paraphrased from David Lebovitz (unfortunately I've lost the link)—about the state of the Parisian baguette: Emma is this moment recording it in her quote-book. I am flattered.</p>
]]></content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title type="text"><![CDATA[In the Winnipeg International Airport]]></title>
<link href="https://www.threedots.ca/posts/airport"/>
<updated>2021-03-07T01:41:23+00:00</updated>
<published>2016-01-10T00:00:00+00:00</published>
<id>http://threedots.ca/posts/airport</id>
<summary><![CDATA[I set off for Halifax from the Winnipeg airport after the Christmas break, and observe my surroundings and moods.]]></summary>
<content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>I was pleasantly surprised to find the security area virtually deserted. The kindly woman standing in front of the queueing area touched the palms of my hands with a white hemisphere on the end of a wand and said (having just seen Paul hug me tight around in circles) how lovely it was to see such a close-knit family, and wished me a happy new year. I had to show my boarding pass five times total, three of those times in the security area. I was the only one in the x-ray line. </p><p>—The security staffperson: “No liquids, aerosols, gels, toiletries, toothpaste, shaving cream, water bottles?â€â€”I: “No, those things are all in my checked bag. Well, an empty water bottle.â€â€”â€Wait – empty? Does it have any water in it?â€â€”â€No.â€â€”â€Okay, then.†</p><p>Now it’s ten after eleven and they’re saying the plane probably won’t arrive for fifteen minutes yet. Guess I’ll go for another walk or something. A television: the woman on the CBC news says “we’re so consumeristic, a lot of the things still have labels in them, the resale market shouldn’t be overlooked.†</p><p>I encounter a sign advertising a Chestnut Praline Latte at Starbucks. I have nothing to do, and am feeling suggestible; I shall go to the Starbucks and purchase a chestnut praline latte.—It tastes quite good – a lovely burnt-sugar flavour.</p>
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</entry>
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