Skating lessons + Mary Queen of Scots + Buy Nothing
May I recommend
Taking a skating lesson.
I have held strong opinions my entire life about certain things: I do not like birds, I do not eat blue food and I do not like skating. Except, as I’ve gotten older, these stances, like my ab muscles, have softened. It turns out that I DO like birds (from a distance, at a birdfeeder) and the one blue food I joyfully eat (and write weird ad-like essays about) are wild blueberries.
So too has my hatred of skating fallen. To be clear, my disdain for the sport was real and long-lasting. When I was growing up there was a big box (I mean, a BIG box) in the garage filled with old winter sports equipment. Come November, the five Tector children would troop out and be allocated the old cross country and downhill ski boots and skates from that box.
All this equipment was janky and the skates were no different. White leather, brittle, stained laces, toe-picked and soft as slippers, my ankles would cave in the instant I made my way onto the flooded out field filled with frozen cow pies where we would skate. What, you thought we’d be skating indoors where the air was above minus 30 and the ice was professionally smoothed?
Ha ha ha haha ha.
No.
We skated on bumpy ponds, half-frozen creeks, and an occasional lake.
It was freezing, I was wobbly, my ankles hurt, my toes ached, my feet cramped. In Kindergarten I suffered a skating accident that required stitches to my chin. The other kids at maternelle laughed at me, saying the stitches gave me a beard and I looked like a “chèvre” … I hated skating.
Cut to decades later. I had foolishly moved to Ottawa, a city whose greatest claim to fame is its canal, smack dab in the middle of everything. That mother trucker freezes up in the winter to create the longest skating rink in the world. Every year the entire city shouts about how you can SKATE TO WORK and eat Beavertails (a flaky pastry) and REVEL IN WINTER FUN! I withstood the pro-skating pressure for many many years, but then, like in so many other things, I was humbled by my kid.
My daughter also (unaccountably, really) hated skating. This mattered because an Ottawa winter is FILLED with skating-related social events that she was missing out on. Both my husband and I tried teaching her and it was miserable. She was adamant she didn’t want lessons, but I found an arena walking-distance from our house and lo and behold, there were adult classes the same time as the kids’ lessons. I promised her I’d be in the rink with her.
So, there we were the first Monday after the Christmas holiday, wobbling onto the ice with our newly acquired helmets, our names plastered on the front. I had bought myself new skates and guess what? They were stiff, and held my ankles straight, while also being comfortable. They were a fun blue colour. Best of all? None of my siblings had ever stuck their goddamn feet in them!
My instructor’s name was Dave. He was a cheerful fetus and former figure skater who glided over the ice like a swan. My fellow Intermediate Adults were a range of civil servants, IT professionals and teachers, who like me, needed to up their skate game (mostly so they could skate that goddamn canal without being overwhelmed/miserable/terrified). We laughed, we played games, we occasionally fell. We skated around cones and learned how to stop and how to skate backward. It was really, really fun.
Intermediate Adults shared the ice with two groups of kids - one who whizzed around like little Wayne Gretzkys and Katerina Witts and the other — my daughter’s group —who cautiously learned to enjoy themselves on the ice.
The fourth group on the rink were Learn To Skate - Adult Beginners. It was made up entirely of New Canadians who had arrived in Ottawa from Syria, Somalia, the Philippines and points beyond. These people had left behind family, professions, languages and culture to start a new life in Canada. In a testament to human resiliency and strength, they then decided to do the very weird and counter-intuitive thing of strapping two sharp blades to their feet in order to propel themselves across some frozen water. It was a lesson to sulky, scared me to buck up and stop complaining.
Things aren’t all rosy-cheeked winter fun, however. Officials have have confirmed this week that the Rideau Canal won’t open this year — the first time in its 53 year history. This is alarming from a climate change perspective — but also sad from a me perspective.
Thanks to Dave and his cheerful lessons, I will miss it.
Secret Codes in Mary Queen of Scot’s letters
Three amateur codebreakers set out to decrypt old letters. They discovered royal history.
This kind of thing is catnip to me. Secret messages? Mary Queen of Scotts with her wigs and many marriages and thwarted destiny? S’il vous plait!
"The letters show definitively that Mary, during the years of her captivity in England ... closely observed and actively involved herself in political affairs in Scotland, England and France, and was in regular contact, either directly, or indirectly through de Castelnau, with many of the leading political figures at Elizabeth I's court," he said in a statement provided to NPR, adding that they prove Mary was a "shrewd and attentive analyst of international affairs."
Buy Nothing Groups - where they came from and where they’re going
The Battle for the Soul of Buy Nothing
I love my local Buy Nothing Group. I have given away sports equipment, books, and even pieces of cake and I’ve gotten many, many plants, which I’ve immediately killed. I love this deep dive into its origins and also some of the controversies.
The initial premise was to make people feel good about whatever they had to offer. “Literally, we want people to come in and offer their onion skins and their chunks of concrete,” Rockefeller told me. And unlike Freecycle, which focuses on giving and dissuades requests, they would encourage people to ask for anything. But maybe more consequential than any of those differences in sensibility was that Rockefeller and Clark decided to host Buy Nothing on Facebook, with its built-in social tools.
Introverts are hiding
Why I “go to bed” early as an introvert
I love going to bed early, and a big reason is because my house is cold and my bed is warm. This person lists some other good reasons to get under those covers!
I close the bedroom door and feel instant relief. Alone at last. I’m not tired enough to actually sleep, but I desperately need solitude. I get in bed and pull out my phone. I scroll Instagram and Facebook, check my email, watch a YouTube video, and even check my bank account. Beforehand, I wasn’t sure what to do with this time; I just knew I needed it.
Book Stuff
Speak for the Dead out March 14th!
I’ve started doing a bit of publicity for SPEAK FOR THE DEAD, it is out March 14th! Reports are trickling into Tector HQ that some people have started to receive their pre-orders AND some bookstores already have it in stock (I’m looking at you, Perfect Books, Ottawa).
SPEAK is the second in the Dominion Archives Mystery series, but you don’t need to have read the first one, THE FOULEST THINGS because weirdly none of the characters from Book 1 are in Book 2 (except Gus, the circulation clerk). Don’t worry, eventually all the characters will reunite in one book and it will be amazing, in the meantime, just buy the hell out of SPEAK FOR THE DEAD.
Book Signings!
Saturday, April 1, 1pm to 3pm - Perfect Books, Elgin Street - Ottawa. Come on out, have lunch on Elgin Street and then whiz over and say “hi” to me. It will be a blast.
Saturday, April 22, 1:30pm-3pm - Librarie Michabou, Aylmer. It’s in a shopping center! I’ve never been, but you probably need to pick something up there, so come on over and say “hi!”
Literary Festival
Sunday, April 16th — Quebec Cit — I’m thrilled to have been invited to the Morin Centre’s Imagination Festival in Quebec City . Come join me on the Plains of Abraham!
Book Recommendations
Super delighted to be featured on this new book recky site, Shepherd. I recommend the five best books about quirky archivists… Did I include a rec for Bear — a funny and weird story about a lady archivist who falls in love with a bear? YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT! You should check out the site - it’s filled with authors recommending very specific types of books to scratch any reading itch.
Podcasts
I’ve been on a podcast kick in support of SPEAK FOR THE DEAD. You can catch my conversation with the very smart Cindy Burnett right here.
Win a Free Book!
In honour of SPEAK FOR THE DEAD’s launch — March 14th! — I’m giving away both books in the Dominion Archives Mystery series - The Foulest Things AND Speak for the Dead are up for grabs and I will SIGN THEM. Enter here!
Buy my books!
Gah - two weeks worth of bookmarked Tweets disappeared this morning - I blame Elon Musk. Sorry there are fewer of these than normal.
Will this newsletter become a Pedro Pascal Stan account?!? Maybe! have you been watching The Last of Us? DO ITTTTTTTT
TikTok
Oh, Fleabag. Oh foxes.
This repays multiple viewings
My best
Mitten test
Have you, Charlotte?
I actually like the winter
Another one! (maybe this newsletter is becoming America’s Funniest Home Videos?)
Why I never want to meet a celebrity
All of this
Yes, this.
Oh yes, I have also experienced this.
Please, God. Let me age into this lady
To be fair, it was a tough question
A+ for this guy/gal
As I am tugged ever deeper into Taylor’s world, I have to agree
Get this kid a Netflix special
Earthquakes, hurricanes, alligators
Bunny eating strawberries
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