Christmas is Over

No more relaxing.

No more wining.

No more grinning.

No more futzing.

No more crackering.

It's cracked.

Put away the fancy glasses.

No more carving. No more glutony! No more port, pudding and hard sauce. Well, maybe just one more weekend . . .

Yes, it is now Christmas past. We had a peaceful celebration and then I made a quick trip to Victoria to visit a sleep expert (my dear friend Donna, who was in disguise).

The Theme Song from Wallander

My choice for song of the year. Raw poetry. Emily Barker and the Red Clay Halo's "Nostalgia."

Hot Ports and Guinea Pigs Degustation

We were treated to a lovely cozy night at AK's with "hot ports". The guinea pigs were brought out to cuddle and I observed them warily across the room. Where I come from, those is varmints and I am highly suspicious of them, haven been bitten by similar smaller creatures at a sensitive time in my childhood on sensitive parts of my body. They are very cute in a kind of Through the Looking Glass kind of way and make disturbing squeaky sounds like balloons being rubbed at a raucous birthday party. Scott treated us to a mythical story about an Italian hobo in Langley that used to keep a herd of over a hundred guinea pigs and turn them into culinary delights, including canned Cochons Guinea Rustique. Rillets anyone? A good pairing with ginger-flecked Stilton, je pense.

I stayed up until 2 reading The Help and finished it today. It is devastating to think that this history is so recent. Although the stories are about persecution and hatred, there is also the flip side of the human capacity to love and take care of each other, the heartbreaking tenderness of servants who were surrogate mothers to the children in their care. It's heart-breaking. I cried buckets of tears.

The tree is up. The gifts have been bought, made, sampled and wrapped. Best wishes to all of you this holiday weekend.

Winter Tacos

I've been jonesing for tacos this winter, and tonight I made some with sausage meat, a citrus cole slaw, and fresh avocado chunks tossed in salt, pepper and lemon juice. Eezy peezy. Jean gave us some of her fabulous ginger cookies, dark and buttery. Yum. We are also into the leek and feta pasta Peter used to make all the time.

I tried to read a documentary crime fiction novel by Michael Winter called The Death of Donna Whalen, but found it unreadable. I'm sure some people think it's brave and raw, but I think it's self-indulgent crap. If you are going to write about a real crime, you cannot pussy foot around the reality that you are creating entertainment from someone's misfortune. Writers have to have a killer instinct. You have to implicate yourself in this way, so why not forge a good novel at the same time? I hope someone uses his "notes" to create a decent book.

Just Around the Corner

Wow, I can't believe we are a week away from Christmas. I am rushing to get my gifts made this weekend, especially the ones that need to go in the mail on Monday. I bought a beautiful Marks and Spencer shortbread tin with a print of a stag on the cover. This will be the feature of our Christmas table along with two silver disco balls I found hanging around in the corner in the dust. Our living room is too full for a Christmas tree due to shifting stuff from upstairs to do the renos. Will we even have a tree this year? I am strangely ambivalent about the whole thing. I'm just relieved that my December toothache was deemed "nothing significant" by my dentist and so we will escape financial ruin this Christmas due to dental debt. Life is good. I hope the dentist has a fun vacation in the Bahamas or Caribbean or wherever he said he was going. How nice for him.

Anyway we had lovely tacos at the market this morning and I bought fresh walnuts. Yay! I also bought some of Chris's lovely Meyer lemonade. Now we can have lemon crepes on Christmas morning.

I am reading an Icelandic mystery called Ashes to Dust by Yrsa Sigurdardottir. I like the way the landscape is integrated directly into the plot, which involves a gruesome discovery in a house being dug out of volcanic ash.

I recently watched Serie 2 of George Gently which I highly recommend. The art direction is fabulous--the tones of green/blue and burnt orange in the set and costumes are stunning and seem directly inspired by the landscape. The writing, acting and direction are all strong. I've been hearing Geordie accents in my head all week.

Not Good Enough

I made chicken soup yesterday and once it was strained added chick peas and purple kale along with some bull kelp and simmered another half hour. Healthy soup!

Today we were gifted a wee lasagne. What a rare treat--we hardly ever eat a real lasagne because of Peter's lactose intolerance. That means I get to eat all the topping. All mine! Moohoohahaha. I made a fish cakes for Ules and a winter salad with cabbage and apples and Meyer lemon juice and mustard in the dressing--garnished with toasted pumpkin seeds of course. I baked a batch of peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips. We'd run out of wheat flour so I used some coconut flour mixed with the bit of AP we had left. The verdict from Ules: Not peanutty enough and "What's that weird flavor? Is it coconut?" Busted.

We cracked open a bottle of German dessert wine I brought back from Europe yonks ago, which went well with the cookies. I quite like them but it's a shame the peanut butter chips are full of hydrogenated fats. Bummer. Next time I'll put nuts in them.

La Grande Dame

P.D. James was brilliant on Q today (CBC Radio One), but Ghomeshi has to learn not to interrupt his guests. It really pisses me off. Let the interview flow more organically, dude. In spite of his quirks, P.D. James was gracious, elegant and profound. She is my favorite mystery writer. I kind of look like her too a bit, I think.

I read Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay yesterday. Fascinating story, but I felt it was a flawed novel. Sarah's narrative was much stronger than Julia's and should have been carried on further into her life. I also felt Zoe might have been a better choice as a narrator in some ways than her mother. The climax of the novel comes too soon. The ending is limp. I see it was made into a movie last fall. Maybe it works better as a screen play.

I sold out of gingerbread men at the market on Saturday--people are getting in the Christmas spirit. Singing at VanDusen was short and sweet. I can't hack those lights anymore though, they have gone OTT. Less is more, folks. I prefer floodlights on foliage rather than the Las Vegas treatment.

Peter bought clams at the market and made a lovely spicy tomato sauce with pasta with the clams in their shells on top. Even Ullie liked it. Shock!

Latke Season

I was very excited to see the windows of Solly's filling with Hanuka treats and I made a beeline for the frozen latkes. This year they are selling mini latkes, which are a perfect breakfast or snack with yogurt and chopped apples or crab apple sauce or even the stewed crab apples I've been buying at the Winter market.

What a beautiful morning it was with a really soft light that makes the unlit Christmas lights go translucent. A muted winter light. It made me nostalgic for an afternoon I spent in a park in Shrewesbury. Must have been a similar quality of light that triggered the memory.

We have been watching Rufus Sewell in Zen. So sexy and stylish it is SMOKIN' hot. Yum yum. All the corruption portrayed in those Italian mysteries frightens the socks of me, or in this case--the knickers. Move over Daniel Craig, there's a new hunk in town.

Do Nothin' Till You Hear from Ella

Ah, but Ella does the song so laid back. Wayyyyyy back. I love how easy she lives inside her voice.
Put this on your gettin' mellow mix tape.

Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me

We're singing this song by Duke Ellington in choir, and I love this version by Nina Simone. It swings! Check out the 'whoops' by the background singers near the end.

The Choir Body

Tonight at rehersal it occurred to me that it is a very intimate act singing with a choir because you share bodies of sound and your sound-making bodies. Deep thoughts for a Wednesday night. I felt like it was a good rehearsal tonight and good vibes all around. There is such a variety of voices--all suited to different kinds of music. It does help that I practiced as well. We are singing at VanDusen Gardens on Saturday evening if you are planning on seeing the lights.

Today I learned to tune the uke and play three chords. Yippee! I can't wait to play and sing "Devil Woman!" Rock on.

I also wrote a ten minute play I will enter in a theatre festival. There is a distinct lack of dramatic material for women over 35, so it's up to us to write it. Get a move on!

I am also selling High Crow's awesome gluten free baking at the Nat Bailey Market on Saturday. Be there, buy a square or seven.

Coo Coo's B-Day

Happy birthday to Coocoo and thanks for the lovely partay. It was a warm and cozy Kitsilano eve and helped chase away the winter blues. And I have 'em, big time. My state of equilibrium is quite fragile at the moment so I am literally singing the blues and hopefully flinging the divils far far away.

Whenever I run out of good mystery novels to read in the house, I am at the edge of a precipice looking into the distance with that classic hunter gatherer squint. I stopped in at Chapters this morning just to look at and fondle the shiny hardcovers. I am so glad P.D. James has a new one and so sad it is not a Dalgliesh.

A Most Productive Day

A good day. I woke up early and baked banana hemp muffins. I decided to walk to clear my head and made a trail all the way from here to Fourth and MacDonald. I soaked in the vitamin D and bought three maple bourbon 'Blitzen' chocolates to share from Cocoa Nymph. The girls were in a most giddy and giggly mood. 'Twas quite infectious. My love for their chocolates grows by the day. I admire their space and the scale of their operation. They also gave a big donation to this year's CBC Foodbank Drive. You go, girls! I was fantasizing that someone would buy me their package for Christmas and I would be invited to share it as a date with George Strombo... Oh la la la. A woman can dream.

I did some collages today and pushed them towards the baroque. Peter and I had tea with the girls at Shaktea and Tanya gave me a Majid cooking lesson package. Yay! For dinner I did cumin papadums, squash and turkey curry, rice, baked tofu in panko crumbs and I made an heirloom tomato mint chutney. We had a badass bottle of vino (Syrah from 3 Winds), so I added apple currant juice and spiced tea which made it quite palatable and went well with the curry. (That's badass in a bad way, FYI. Thin and harsh.)

And tonight I finally got off my lazy ass and practiced my choir tunes. I am trying to memorize as much of the material as I can. Love some of the repertoire and hate some of it. Some of it bores my teats off.

Ules is on another Gilligan's Island bender. Oh lordy.

No One Will Ever Sing it Like IZ

Rest in peace, sweetheart.

Ukulele Mama

It don't usually go shopping on Sunday, so taking the trip downtown on Grey Cup day to purchase a uke was seriously surreal. Folks in neon green and orange mohawks, all kinds of football jerseys with padded shoulders, everyone with some kind of design painted under their eyes and four mysterious men dressed as polar bears. Much of the crowd was older--aged 50 plus. There were even some diehard Sask. Roughrider fans looking serious in their green and white togs.

First, I entered the HMV flagship store for the third time in my life. They are going out of business and I was lured by fantasies of bins of bargain CDs. What a waste of time. DO NOT GO. They are shipping the good stuff to their other stores and selling absolute crap at the price Chapters sells it across the street. Bah Humbug. I bought a Pupini Sisters Christmas CD and I don't even like that. I neglected to notice that it contains two of my LEAST favorite Christmas songs. Ick treacle slobber ick.

So I went to Tom Lee's and talked to a man about a uke. They were on sale 'cause it was Black Friday weekend. I took it home and Peter commandeered it straight away and untuned it and then tuned it. It has a nice big sound for such a little guy. I look forward to twanging with it over the holidays.

We have been sampling Christmas fruitcakes and stolen. Butter's fruitcake is too crumbly. Choices dark fruit cake is good and moist, but lacks booze. We like the light mini stolen loaves at Sweet Obsession. Just perfect for sharing. We had the stolen with Elephant Island Framboise, which also went well with the tiger butter bark we made--kind of like the ultimate peanut butter and jam. Must buy port. I make a note.

Did ya see Ullie's poem below? I iz so proud.

Ullie's Peace Poem

a white dove soars over the tranquil moonlit lake.

over the forest. over small towns bringing hope it flies.

silently it swoops over dreamers and storytellers in the pale light of the moon.

troubled minds become calm as the night warmth replaces cold hearts.

the wind whistles through the trees. all of nature is in harmony.

the dove continues its journey bringing its message to all who see it.

the war has ended. a time of peace has come.

Jake is the MAN

Jake Shimabukuro, ukulele virtuoso is my new hero. He does a version of 'My (Ukulele) Gently Weeps'. So awesome. I can't wait to buy a uke. I've given Peter my Christmas list: uke books, uke tuner, and CDs by Chorleoni and Mountain Man. Woot! It's gonna be a ukulele Christmas at the OK Corral. Wanna join my porch band?

Catherine and I were at Butter Bakery yesterday and Neil Young was singing 'Heart of Gold' on their sound system. "I love this song!" I declared and another customer and I had a conversation about those composers who write great songs but can't sing worth sh-t: Dylan, Cohen, et al. We still love them though. Those guys all were the background music to different periods in my life.

As I write this I can hear Cuan practicing the violin on skype--so funny that there are these sonic layers in our lives.

Another Day, Another Ditty

Another project is now wrapped up and put to bed. Thank you JESUS!

The big wind last night made me feel I was in the belly of a ship, or a whale. Especially since I've been reading a novel about people who used to lure people to shore to wreck their ships and steal their cargo. Lots of people missed sleep last night.

Another song today--a real hurtin' tune.

Snow Dee Oh

Yes, we haz snow. Had it since the weekend. And today we had the weather I hate most, which is raining onto piles and puddles of slush. I don't have proper boots for this weather because I think maybe they just don't exist. Someone should make them and call them Slushpuddlers.

I am very happy to report that I have written a lullabye and now I need to start recording these songs so I don't forget them. Wish I had the dough to just jump into this song cycle project.

The choir clinic was intense and Dr. Trotter was awesome. He was light, funny and insightful. My head is full with the sound of music, and sometimes two songs overlap and play in my head which is very bizarre. What I loved about Trotter was that instead of assuming we were idiots he was very affirming and positive about the human tendency towards musical intelligence. What a rare gift he has.

Took down the show today, which left me in a state of post-gig blues. Transitions always take their toll. I've got a hellish meeting tomorrow to sort out a beurocratic mess and wrap up another project and then it's on to brighter and shinier things. I hope.

I am relieved and glad that Gregor was voted back into office. The alternative was too horrific to think about. Would have preferred COPE instead of NPA candidates getting voted in, but oh well. At least the one who shall not be named will now be silent. We hope.

Reading more Mankell--The Man from Beijing and Kennedy's Brain. Those books don't appeal to me as much because they are more in the thriller genre, hopping around to exotic locations and requiring a huge suspension of disbelief. Which reminds me--I've got books to return. Toodles.

Wind Chill

I'm shocked to read it is 4 degrees C out there. It feels much colder, with the wind. We now have all our new floors installed upstairs, but it is still pretty chilly up here.

I just read the final Wallander novel by Henning Mankell, which is really a rich piece of work to be savored slowly. Occasionally, I did get impatient with the pace, but other times I just really enjoyed the slow unwinding of the details. The book is called The Troubled Man. And yes, I check every library book for bugs. I am going to get a reputation as the crazy lady who flips through the pages three times before she checks out each book.

I decided that I want a ukulele for Christmas--a top quality one with a pick up.

The grapefruit are really good at this time of the year. I am enjoying them every day for brekkie. And I have been eating an inordinate amount of BBQ flavored chips for some reason. I hope the chapter in that book is closing. They are really disgusting.

Funny how some trees hold onto their leaves in these fierce gusts of wind and some just let go. I even saw a boy trying to shake a tree. At first I thought he was trying to shake off the leaves, but then I realized he'd lost something he'd thrown into the tree. Is it time to shake the tree? Or just let the wind do all the work?

Stress Relievers

Stressful days I'm having, waiting for calls for prospective jobs. My head feels like it is in a vise. In the mean time, I plan to vote today and get that done.

We have been enjoying watching episodes of The Republic of Doyle, a detective series set in Newfoundland created by (shock!) the CBC. It's the best thing the TV part of the corporation has made in a long time. Finally, someone has used the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon (sp?) in a Canadian plot.

Anyone got some good ideas for relieving stress?

Dad's Birthday

Dad turned 77 this year and I was happy we were able to celebrate with him, since we're not often in the same province on his b-day. He has always been what a great dad should be: kind, funny, supportive, and generous. He has many incredible life skills and he is a curious and passionate life-long learner. Dad rocks!

Craving Comfort

These days I am out of my mind craving fall comfort food. Since the first frost in early November I just want to dive into plates of comfort food to stay warm and cozy. I am craving short ribs in some kind of rich sauce with star anise over polenta. Cheese! I dream of all kinds of cheese, but mostly simple cheddar. Last night I went to a performance potluck and there were crock pots of awesomeness: pulled pork, hearty beef curry along with classic scalloped potatoes smothered in cheddar, an excellent coleslaw with pistachios, cous cous (not quite polenta, but still good) and a chocolate cake with raspberries and cayenne. Almost everyone did a "turn" in a kind of Victorian-style salon that included lots of solos, quartets, swing-dancing, a Leonard Cohen impersonator and yours truly singing a new song I wrote. The pianist who accompanied almost everyone was an incredibly talented sight reader and composer. But the one who stole the show was the giant black and white cat who strutted about deigning to received adoration. He OWNED that salon.

Homeless Veterans

Today there's been a group of programs related to Remembrance Day themes on CBC Radio One and I was shocked to discover the extent of the problem of homeless vets in North America. In the United States, it is estimated that one in four homeless people is a vet. In Canada, there are no statistics that I could find, which is a statement in itself. On the hopeful side of things, there are people who are creating programs based on the idea that you wouldn't leave a wounded person behind on the battlefield, so why would you leave them alone on the streets. The same could be said of civilians who are fighting their own internal and external battles with homelessness and poverty. There are also new programs to help soldiers deal with psychological trauma which seem to be working. Perhaps the success of these programs will also affect the way in which civilians deal with trauma in their lives.

I was intrigued with the stripped down language that the vets in the Drop the Baggage program at UBC were using to describe the process of treating each other. This dismantling of the current terms of treatment is a fresh way of empowering the person being treated. Peer counseling strips away the authoritative tropes of psychological treatment. This could be an essential part of the recovery process, making it more collaborative and helping the person being treated as not identifying and defining themselves as a victim.

Anakana Schofield has written an excellent blog post on the homeless in the current Occupy Vancouver protest at the VAG.

Chick Peas at Last

Well, today is the last day I am tour guide Barbie for mom and dad. Today we went to Aphrodite's which was not a big hit. I think the food was a bit too healthy for my dad. He claims he had never eaten chick peas before. "These little round things--look like turkey nuts," he scowls comically. On Wednesday he turns 77. It's about time he tried chick peas. I say they are good for diabetics and he says "So does everything else that tastes like sh-t." Anyhow, he did like the chocolate pecan pie--diabetes be damned.

We've been hitting a lot of book stores and I was able to use my Green Zebra coupon. I also ordered a book from Banyen from the UK--they are totally cool about ordering books for customers. We bought some cute clothes for my little niece--she is so much fun to shop for: bling! purple! shiny!

Found a great book for dad about 100 photos which changed Canadian history, including the one called "Wait for Me Daddy!" by Detloff that I curated into the show. I think he'll like it. I bought a pumpkin roulade from Whole Foods for a celebration tonight. Everyone was admiring it as I carried it home on the bus.

We've been indulging in taxi rides and today one driver says he witnessed a man being chases by civilians after he stabbed someone on Robson Street. He said the crime in Vancouver is making people scared. Apparently the Hotel Vancouver has locked its doors because the protesters at the VAG were using the bathrooms and "stealing expensive things."

Another cab driver totally saved my ass by questioning whether I gave him the correct address. Turns out I was wrong. Doh. And the other night as I was pointing out the Olympic lights on Cambie, a cab driver with a gorgeous husky voice said, "Tell them about the bad stuff--the debts, the protests, and on and on." I am quite heartened by these lively denizens of the city. The art of conversation with strangers lives on.

Post Halloween Post

Lovely sunny and breezy day yesterday, ripping the painted leaves off the trees on Ontario Street. Leaves swirling around carved pumpkins and caught in faux spider webs wrapped around manicured hedges. I soaked beans, hung up the Halloween lights and melted chocolate for the graveyard cake. For me, tidying and decorating always seem to go hand in hand, so the closer together the occasions, the tidier the house. Ules remarked "Is someone coming for dinner? Only I've noticed you only clean the table when we have people over." Busted. So busted.

The pressure was on as the night before Halloween at 9 o'clock I was asked where was the mask from last Halloween. Blast. I ended up looking in every plastic tub in both porches until minutes before school the next morning, the pumpkin grimace was unearthed. I started the day with a sore back in a foul mood.

Luckily, things went better from there. The beans cooked and the ingredients I dug out of the pantry and fridge gave it flavour: dried mushrooms whizzed to crumbs in the food processor, bits of fresh tomato going soft, tomatillo salsa and tomato paste. I grated two zucchinis from the garden for the chocolate cake and made the sugar cookie graves.

J brought an excellent salad, blush wine, and bread. I served up a roasted chicken from Choices along with the chili and some "witch's teats"--roasted purple fingerling potatoes. The doorbell rang and I served 6 t&tr's--the only ones all night.

The boys headed out with C's grandma who helps make his fab costumes. Yesterday it was a Bugati. Ules says it neither he or C could see very well, so he used his cane to tap his way up and down the stairs and C's windows kept fogging up. The Bugati was a big hit, with C scoring many bonus candies for his awesome costume.

I stayed home and washed dishes and then Anakana came over and we chatted while she knitted. Knitting is therapeutic even for those who just watch it being performed. Men should knit in prison. It would probably save a lot of grief. Men in the navy used to knit. It probably kept them sane on cramped ships and submarines. Knitting for sanity. Perhaps I should take it up.

Jeanette Winterson

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/oct/28/jeanette-winterson-all-about-my-mother

I highly reccomend Winterson's story of surviving a brutal childhood.

Jeanette Winterson: all about my mother

When her mother burnt her treasured hidden store of paperbacks, Jeanette Winterson decided the time had come to start writing herself. She looks back on how her loveless upbringing led to her becoming a writer

Singing the Roof Off

The men in the house are starting to complain as I begin to rehearse the choir songs, attempting to hit those high notes. Tonight I can sing the roof off because they have gone out for a game night. Now I think I've sung myself out. I've written a new song and look forward to it becoming an international hit so I can sit in my rocking chair and rake in the royalties.

Today I ate the ultimate PMS lunch: gouda cheese and liver paté eaten off BBQ flavour Hard Bite potato chips followed by a pumpkin spice chocolate s'more.

My son (the cynic) and things which stink

On the way to school they were paving a road and I said "Oh, that stinks." Ules says "That's the stench of the horror of what some people call progress." He does not mince words. But don't tell him I told you what he said! He hates it when I quote him.

Another bus story. The other night a man was passed out in the front seats of the bus. Everyone was ignoring him-- I thought he might be dead. I went up to the driver and said "That guy all right? He doesn't look so good."

"Yeah, we're takin' him off at the next stop," he says.

So at Broadway and Main three burly men with black gloves lumber out of a van and try to wake the guy out, but he is so passed out he can't. Two men pick him up as dead weight, drag him out of the bus and put him on a bench. I hope they called the ambulance. Then the third guy sprays the seat liberally with disinfectant because the man they removed was "unclean." "Kind of like I was in the eighties," he quips. So the next time you sit on a seat on a bus, just think of the layers of chemistry burbling beneath your butt. Ick.

Oh, and they are discovering live and dead bed bugs between the pages of books in Burnaby and New West libraries. Charming.

Dinner and a Show

I've always thought it ironic that there's so many good ingredients to be found on Granville island, but the options for dining out are so limited. I'm happy that Edible Vancouver has upped the bar, but there is still room for improvement. Catherine and I had dinner there last week and we both ended up ordering exactly the same thing: their seafood soup, beet and kale salad, bread, and sangria.

I've had the Thai style soup before and I like it, but once again the broth should have been warmer. This time I had the larger size, which meant more broth, but the same amount of fish. The beet salad is beautifully presented--the new chef at Trafalgar's should take note. His presentation is sorely lacking and the dude serves kale raw that should be blanched. The sangria was too sweet for me. I wished I'd just ordered a glass of wine. Anyway, I don't know what I was thinking when I ordered sangria with this meal.

The menu at Edible Vancouver irks me because it doesn't really have a lot of choice if you don't want a big meal. The takeout menu often looks better than the regular menu and I didn't ask if you can order from the take-out menu if you're dining in. I'm assuming you can if you are nice and the server is having a good day.

The good news is that they seem to have toned down the yelling from the kitchen--I hope it stays down.

After dinner we saw the women from Gee's Bend who were so warm and strong and lovely and inspiring I still don't know what to say about it. Only that their work makes a lot of "modern art" look thin and bloodless in comparison and I like that. A lot.

Brunch in Surrey

Had an ab fab brunch in Surrey with friends today and their cute doggies. So European, with homemade bread, sliced meats, good cheese and hella strong organic black tea. We went to a show of photographs of Japanese internment camps at the Surrey Museum which is way the hell out in Cloverdale. I don't know if I'm cut out for the skytrain, though. Standing room only all the way back and no-one gives up their seat for anyone else--it's the brutal commuter trail. A woman was reading a booked called How to Deal with Difficult People. I wish her the best of luck.

Night before last I was privileged to hear three of the Gee's Bend women talk about their quilts. That was a life-altering experience. I don't quite know what to say about it yet.

I am reading Anthem for a Doomed Youth by Carola Dunn, but it's not quite pulling me in. That might be saying more about my state of mind than the book. Someone said I look distracted lately. Ha! Lots of big thoughts going around in a little mind.

It's Up!

The show at the Firehall is up now and you can visit Wed-Sat, 1-5 pm. It looks better than I thought and the installation went better than I imagined due to my helpers. I am so grateful! Of course, I wish everything could have been printed larger but it's the best I could do with the budget.

I am taking one day off and then it's back to the job search.

I'm not impressed with the new library. They have one place to return books during open hours and I was in a lineup of people returning stuff. You have to check out each piece in an automated system that takes one item at a time. I was in a hurry and so I was not amused. The gallery is small, tucked in at the back of the big sports complex like an afterthought.

I'm watching episodes of Foyle's War I haven't seen before. I love it!

Spitting Mad at Bus Drivers

Yes, I am so pissed off at the bus driver of a number 3 Main bus who passed me by as I was waving for him to stop at the bus stop because I was waiting at the stop with a blind man who also wanted that bus. Can you believe it? Empty bus and no bus behind for 20 minutes. Crikey that makes me STEAMING mad. This gentleman tells me buses frequently pass him by when they know damned well the protocol is to stop and tell him which bus it is. So there I am fuming at the bus stop and coincidently a woman comes to the same stop who is also blind. She has a lovely black guide dog and I ask her which bus she wants. She also wants the number three. Right. So I tell her I am determined to flag this next number 3 bus down and I do without a problem. Then this woman on the bus starts bitching at her because the dog is partly in the aisle. WTF. She demands that the woman moves. So the woman with the seeing eye dog sighs and moves across the bus to a seat she has to pull down (which is ludicrous). I helped her, BTW. Ack. The bus driver should help people get settled in their seats. It should be part of the job. Spitting mad. Oh and BTW, the reason that driver didn't stop--this is in the DTES.

Wheat is the New Evil

Very interesting program on the evils of wheat on CBC's The Current and the debate around whether cutting wheat out of your diet will solve all your health problems. The dietician from Saskatoon has a much more balanced view than the man who sees wheat as the new Anti-Christ. Ironically, I am now working for a gluten free baker, so there you go. Maybe the world is trying to tell me something.

Just finished winding up some rolls of hops vines for a class I'm teaching tomorrow. Now I'm feeling sleepy because of the chemicals in the hops. All I want is a pumpkin doughnut and a nap. ZZZZZzzzz.

I made two pumpkin pies from scratch, one with yogurt and one with coconut milk. I think I like the coconut milk better because it brings out the sweetness in the pumpkin.

I also made some soup with beans, tomatillos and dried mushrooms which was perfect with the addition of a bit of leftover turkey and eaten with a tomato mayonnaise sandwich.

Happy Thanksgiving dear friends and family.

bakery karma

I had bad bus karma today trying to get to and from Granville Isle, but good bread karma as the woman at PICA was just wrapping up the day's s end discounts and I got some hella good deals.
I tried out the new Edible Vancouver eatery. I like the feel of the place--airy and casual, but for some reason they like to shout their orders at each other like that's a cool thing. Ummm, it's not. It's BLOODY IRRITATING and arrogant.

I tried the Thai style seafood soup which was lukewarm, but the flavor was good and the seafood was fresh. I had a good gin cocktail too, but it was a bit mean.

Then I went to a lecture on natural dyes that was hard work. Way too much chemistry and Latin in a thick French accent. Challenging. I hope part of my brain retained something. Anyway, I met a couple of nice ladies on the way home on the bus. We had all been to the lecture and I had to vent. As you do.

I watched a Poirot I somehow missed--thought I'd seen them all. Hickory Dickory Dock. It's one of the best of them all. Stylish and atmospheric. Don't watch it if you have a phobia about mice. Although, maybe watching it would help with fear of mice, because the starring rodent is damned cute.

I'm on pumpkin pie duty and I'll be working at the Kits Market this weekend. It will be a switch from archive and photoshop land. I love research a bit too much. I could just disappear down the rabbit holes it reveals.

Love and peace to you, dear readers.

Fresh Scones

This morning I made my yogurt scones and we opened a jar of spicy pear jam that was a Christmas gift. I like those wee pots of jam that you basically eat in one sitting. The winds and rain are upon us and it's migraine weather with quick switches in temperature and air pressure.

I am in the print phase of the archive project which is very satisfying. Just sorting out the permission to reproduce an Edith Adams cookbook from the Vancouver Sun.

I've been reading Graham Hurley: One Under, which has a dry, slow start, but turns into a solid read. Now I'm onto his novel called Borrowed Light which has a much better beginning and is unfolding nicely. However, I do tire of big gangster characters. They rarely move beyond clichés and it always ends in tears and gore. Ho hum. His books tend to be very centred around males and his female characters are less complex, sometimes two-dimensional. I also read Deception by Denise Mina--well, skimmed more like. The main character is so weak and whiny, you really want to race through the book to get it over with. The ending is not believable. It's a concept book that doesn't really work.

Nice to have crisp, fresh apples again. I bought some this weekend at UBC Farm that rocked.
Trouble at Trafalgar's. They have a new chef who has taken my favorite items off the lunch menu and so far I am not impressed with his cooking. It seems he's just not that into lunch. That makes me sad, as I have been a regular there for years. Well, I hope the French Table will be open soon for lunch.

Amazing Book Grace

Wow, I have had excellent book karma this week. First, I read an excellent Icelandic mystery novel called Jar City by Arnaldur Indriðason, and today I read Until Thy Wrath be Past by Asa Larsson. What a great book. This is the best novel she has written so far. I really recommend you read all her books in the order they were written because the main character, Rebecka Martinsson, goes through a series of dramatic events that shape her character and she just keeps getting deeper and richer. What's remarkable in the compassion she has for one of the characters in the book which which becomes a transformative force in the novel. The way the author handles the "ghosts" in her work is elegant and poetic. There's also part of the plot which is about Sweden's fascinating role in WWII. I LOVE this book. This will be a hard act to follow in terms of what I choose to read next.

I am currently writing a lot of letters asking people for permission to use their images and text for the exhibition I'm working on. Quite a lovely part of the whole process so far.

Me Want Tacos

I am becoming very addicted to Korean Tacos. The lovely couple near the Vancouver Public Library make some good stuff. The lady advised me to have one spicy and one mild, and she was right as it is the perfect combination.

Starting to wrap up the archival research project, but it has awakened a great desire to go deeper into the material on my own time.

Watching Monk and one of my new favorite episodes is Monk Gets Hypnotized--a gem in what seems generally to be a weaker season, writing wise.

Tomorrow I am playing a tippler bumble bee queen in Pacific Spirit Park. Pray for me.

Busy Bumble Bee

It is so good to be a busy bumble bee. Lots of pressure for my current gig, but challenging and stimulating. I got to visit the bowels of the Museum of Vancouver today and peruse old cookbooks published by the Vancouver Sun. I also put an archivist at the COV archives to work digging up an obscure photo for me and she did it. Respect!

Tomorrow I've really got to crunch the numbers in my budget and make some hard decisions.
I also have a cabaret performance tomorrow eve. No rest for the wicked. Sunday I have to be a bumble bee queen. And I have joined a choir. It's hard work, but I think it's a good match--not totally sure of that, but so far so good.

I've started reading Survivors by Chava Rosenfarb which is a mind-altering life-changing book of short stories. Her women are unlike any I have read in fiction--complicated, passionate, and dark. The stories are quite surreal.

And to treat myself I am watching more episodes of MONK.

We had a lovely dinner last night at the French Table. What a jewel of a place. I will have to start making more serious dosh so we can go more often.

A Tang in the Air

Can you smell that fall tang in the air? I am spending my days searching the archives, so I welcome the cooler weather as gardening season winds down.

Read: The Moon Tunnel by Jim Kelly. This is my favorite so far of Kelly's work. It helps that the subject touches on my current research into WWII. I do love mysteries about archeological digs and this one turns up a tunnel from an old POW camp and a corpse, of course.

I also read Death Wore White, the series with Detective Peter Shaw. I found the plot strained credulity, but I think this series will grow on me.

I'm rewatching Foyle's War--always a pleasure.

The School Run

This is one of the warmest September days I remember experiencing in Vancouver. I worked up a real sweat watering the school garden this morning. I loved hearing the teacher's voice coming through the windows. Bits of order, then sounds of chaos as the kids chatted to each other about what they did this summer.

My son said: "Today my freedom ended. School is a prison." He played a piece of somber organ music as he morosely got ready for school. But he was chatty and funny on the way there and the way back and told me anecdotes from last year I've heard many times. Other students tend to exasperate him. He just wants to get on with it and serve his sentence without all these tedious children acting up. He also says things and then warns me: "Don't quote me on that." Today he went on a sweet riff about the problem of the tree falling in the forest question.

Read: Scared to Live by Stephen Booth. Sometime police procedure gets in the way of a good novel. And we really need to care more about the characters.

Read: The Nesting Dolls by Gail Bowen. Somewhere along the way Joanne Kilbourne became so middle class cosy with her extended family and so luvvy duvvy with her smart, handsome lawyer that she's become a bit of a yawn. This novel revolves around a pretty unbelievable coincidence that I just couldn't get my head around.

In the dye jar: blackberries. I'm going to try solar dyeing.

A Cloud will Come

My friend Donna says that in September a cloud will come and we'll reach up and find all the things we lost. I hope we find only the things that are wanted, not those we left behind on purpose.

Read: The Skelton Man by Jim Kelly. The architecture of a lost village becomes sculpted into the reader's memory. I also found out that this author has a really lovely website. It is worth checking out.

Dye Pot: I am still using iris roots and iron to dye cotton pieces a dark blue-purple.

Baked: I did make a chocolate cake, but the vegan recipe from The Joy of Cooking was a fail, so on to better things. We still ate it with helpings of whipped cream sprinkled with coconut.

Craving: Masala dosa.

Oktoberfest is Coming!

I applied to be an Oktoberfest waitress. In the mean time, I think I may make more money busking than anything, so today I wrote a song about my friend's favorite dog, Oon Blackie Schmidt. This makes me very happy. Now I just need to learn to play the ukulele.

Baked: chocolate chip cookies with hemp seeds.

Thinking about baking: Scottish Flap Jacks because I'm writing a piece about foods you carry in your pocket. What do you carry in your pocket smorgasbord?

Reading: Getting the Point. : A Panic Free Guide to English Punctuation for adults by Jenny Haddon and Elizabeth Hawksley. Because you can never know too much about punctuation. For that back to school feeling even if you're not going back to school because you couldn't afford it in a million years and what's the point because you'd end up being an Oktoberfest waitress with an MFA.

Watched: The Lady in the Water written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. Well, this movie had cool CGI effects and lots of good actors, but it stunk. There was a big piece of the story missing, ie the life of the main character before he finds The Lady. What makes him drop into this fantasy so easily? I had trouble with that acceptance of suspension of disbelief with most of the characters. And the plot? Some events seemed really hastily tacked on to the story.

Craving: Some kind of chocolate cake with coconut icing.

Overcast and Cool

Well, I am glad it has cooled down today. I'm not a big fan of the heat when I'm not in immediate proximity of the beach or a pool.

I'm reading the novels of Jim Kelly, a British writer I hadn't hear of. I've dipped into both of his series and I'm enjoying his work, even though his characters have terrible eating habits and disfunctional relationships with food.

I've been watching more of Tony Shaloub in Monk, which is my favorite comedy show ever.

Dye Pot: I dyed an over shirt a deep purple with the yellow iris flag roots and iron. I tried to create the ombre effect, which is tricky with a hot dye.

Thanks so much for everyone for their suggestions and support in my search for a part time job. I haven't had any luck so far. The market is incredibly competitive and according to one friend it's like you have to be incredibly over-qualified for a job otherwise you don't get a call at all. Anyway, the search continues.

I had my last tea party as part of MOPARRC and celebrated by downing a half bottle of blush. "The times they are a'changing."

August Rain

"The gardens are dry," I think as I fall asleep. Wake up with a sore back and the cool jazz of rain coming in my open window. The radio tells me Jack has died. I console myself with sour cherry pie and ice cream for breakfast.

Read: Seasons of Darkness by Maureen Jennings--a wartime mystery by a Canadian author.

Watched: The Prestige with Hugh Jackman is a film with very choppy editing resulting in a film with an unwieldy narrative arc and unsympathetic main characters. The female actors shine in this tale of dueling magicians.

Dye Pot: Amaranth was a bust, but I bought a crock pot for dyeing and mordants based on a idea from another artist.

Baked: Banana chocolate chip muffins with hemp and another sour cherry rustic tart.

Had a great whirlwind visit with my sister: power shopping (Anthropologie, Kids Books, etc.), power eating (Pied-a -Terre, Thomas Haas and Trafalgars), and spa time (Footworks). We started forming our bucket list. Do you have one? Sis wants to go to Paris. I want to go to Japan.

I am loving the sound and the feel of the rain, but I had an awful sleep so I am feeling quite cranky.

Gleaning Amaranth

Dye Pot: Today I hit the UBC Farm market and bought some salad greens, potatoes and sour cherries. I wanted to try an amaranth dye experiment and so I gleaned some cuttings the gardeners had left on the ground between the rows. It's steeping in the pot right now. I've got some silk I'm going to dye with it. Tomorrow I'm going to pluck invasives with Evergreen at Jericho Park and hopefully score some yellow flag iris rhizomes to dye with.

Watched: I've Loved You So Long written and directed by Philippe Claudel starring Kristin Scott Thomas. What a fabulous movie! It is subtle, elegant, and restrained and it is a rare case where you really see an actress transform a character over the course of a movie. I loved it.

Read: The House Sitter by Peter Lovesey. This was a good mystery with a very satisfying narrative arc.

Job Wanted: For the first time in over a decade I find myself looking for a part time job to keep body and soul together while I do some shifting around in my art practice. I'm looking for 2 days a week or about 16 hours if you hear of anything. I want something non stressful, and preferably even pleasant!

Migraine Days

Yes, the evil migraine cluster has returned. It's made me very tired, but the good thing is that I have been able to do some reading in spite of it.

Read: The Secret Hangman and Skeleton Hill by Peter Lovesy--Contemporary murder mysteries set in Bath and its environs. I thought Skeleton Hill had an original plot with some good twists and turns. The Secret Hangman was too predictable. Also read The Vows of Silence by Susan Hill. I like Hill's prose style and her characters, although sometimes her novels get a bit soapy for my taste. Her oeuvre would work well as a television series.

Watched: The Secret Life of Bees. I've read the novel a couple of times and although I think the human story came through, the real magic of the Black Madonna was missing. I think they could have focused more time in the movie on the Boatwright sisters. I also think that a couple of actors should have been cast differently--Jennifer Hudson lacked gravitas and that British actress who played May, although I admire much of her work, was OTT in this.

Once Upon a Time in the Midlands, directed by Shane Meadows. This was disappointing because of the stereotypical characters. A hard-assed Glaswegian f-up played by Robert Carlyle? Ho hum. A Welsh ninny played by Rhys Ifans? Quel surprise. Kathy Burke is great, she always is, but is that a Brummy accent Shirley Henderson is attempting to purr out? That's a stretch. There is one great comic moment (almost thrown away) involving Ricky Tomlinson's cowboy hat. That is all.

In the dye pot: iris roots and cotton mordanted with tannin as well as silk eco-prints steamed and then put in ice dye bath jars of violas.

Off to the Farm

We're just about to head off to UBC Farm for the market. Yay!

Reading: Clara and Mr. Tiffany by Susan Vreeland--a historical novel about the woman who invented the Tiffany lamp and designed the first prototypes. It's fascinating to read about how the stained glass process works, including the creation of all the colors of glass. The novel is starting to talk about the change from the Art Nouveau aesthetic to a less ornate style, Art Deco.

Watched: The forth season of The Ghost Whisperer: Love Never Dies. This is my least favorite season. Spoiler: Melinda's husband dies and comes back in another man's body. It's a plot twist that's really hard to take and neither of the main actors wring any truth out of it. At least the show makes fun of itself by focussing on one episode with a soap opera, a genre where the death of a character who keeps coming back to life is a standard plot device. I am really fascinated by the clothes Melinda Gordan wears. They are often ill-fitting, unflattering and wildly inappropriate. Who dressed this woman? And why does she always have false hair pieces and outlandish false eyelashes? I much prefer Alison Dubois in that other psychic show.

In the dye pot: Just finished experimenting with osage and now I've got to mordant some more fabric and if the blackberries are ripe, maybe I'll cook up some of those for dye. I also did some eco-prints with smoke bush, which is a dye plant known as young fustic.

August Blues

I watched a fabulous documentary called In Search of Lost Colour: the Story of Natural Dyes produced by Maiwa. The history of colour is fascinating and I am amazed how much culture and ethnobotanical practise has been lost by the invention of synthetic dyes.

I just finished a classic Ngaio Marsh mystery: Clutch of Constables. I think it's actually more interesting than the others in the series I've read because of the focus on Troy Allen as opposed to her husband.

I'm sad that summer vacation is half over. Feeling very blue today and out of sorts.

Perfectly Summer

A cool breeze and sunny skies. It's my perfect day.

Watched: Shroud for a Nightingale by PD James with Roy Marsden. It's got a solid cast, but was shot on cheap video stock with the annoying glare factor. Marsden's Dalgliesh is very dry and clipped in this effort. It feels like it must be one of the earlier ones they shot of the novels.

Read: A Mortal Curiosity by Ann Granger. The two narrators are slightly annoying, but I love the image of the two Victorian maiden aunts who dress in matching gowns.

In the dye pot: Green tea was a bust, but at least it will have helped mordant the fabric. I boiled up some elecampane heads, but the color was brackish yellow/brown so what the heck, I added oregon grape berry juice and the color on cotton came out a lovely lavender grey. I've put some silk in a jar with this dye. One of the bundles was wrapped around a burdock root which definitely gave off a yellow hue.

Craving: Ever since the tequila shots at the Blim opening on Friday I am craving margueritas. So today I brewed some lemon verbena tea and squeezed in lime juice sweetened with a bit of agave nectar and poured over sparkling water. Very refreshing. The food on Friday was incredible. I'll have to post the menu. I'm also craving salad with a Vietnamese dressing and that Hawaiian raw fish salad Michael made on Friday. Awesome.

Cloudy with a Chance of Sunshine

Another overcast July morning, but I'm okay with that. As long as the sun makes an appearance for an hour or two to prevent that mouldy thing from happening on my leaves. Ack, I've aphasia-ed on the name of that condition.

Summer reading: All the Colours of Darkness by Peter Robinson who is perhaps my favourite Canadian mystery writer.

Mangia: Panna Cotta from Commissaire with fresh Hungarian sour cherries.

In the dye pot: cotton simmered in green tea powder--no, not matcha, but that's the colour I want to achieve. I had some old green tea powder in my kitchen and the colour is a muddy green, but it will work as an underdye, j'espere.

Muggy with Sunshine

Reading: Dark Road to Darjeeling by Deanna Raybourne: A historical romance mystery. I'm just in it for the tea.

Just finished a book by Norwegian mystery author Karin Fossum: Bad Intentions. This is a good summer read with deftly drawn characters. It always irks me when authors don't tell us what the characters look like and Fossum paints a picture.

I also just got out copious books on dyes and Catherine lent me a couple of lovely books, one on Russian fabrics and on by Wade Davis, an ethnobotanist.

Watching: Dalziel and Pascoe, Season 1

Dye Pot: Madder (from Maiwa) with cotton mordanted with tannin and alum

Dye jars: mordanted cotton with viola ice dye.

Craving: Sour cherries

Making: A chocolate mango ice cream cake for Ules' b-day.

Rainy Summer Days

Read this week: The Seance by John Harwood, a good novel if you are in the mood for a Victorian tale within a tale. I love the paper cut illustration on the cover by Niroot Puttapipat. Here's a link to an image of the paper cut used for the cover. Here's a link to the image on the cover.

Watching: Monk: Season Five--Tony Shaloub is one of the great comedians of our age. He's so much fun to watch.

In the dye jar: cotton in black currant juice--some cloth mordanted with alum, some with tannin.

In the oven: Sour cherry rustic tart made with Hungarian sour cherries purchased at UBC Farm from an orchard near Oyama. I wish I'd bought more as they are the most delicious cherries I have ever tasted.

What I've been reading: Midnight Fugue, by Reginald Hill
A nice, tight novel-- I grow more and more fond of Dalziel over the years. Pascoe needs to lighten up, though and could be much more than just a foil to the big guy.

Crime Machine by Giles Blunt: The novel was very twisted tale set in Northern Ontario in winter with an exploration of the fur industry. Blunt and Louise Penny are two of my favorite Canadian mystery writers. No surprise there.

What I've been watching: The 39 Steps, by Alfred Hitchcock. This spy movie is one of his earlier films, with an interesting documentary on the disc about how Hitchcock was influenced by German cinema and his Jesuit upbringing. I love the physical comedy he throws in to chase scenes, for instance when the two fugitives are locked together with handcuffs and they get tangled in a fence.

What's in the dye pot: Cotton and linen wrapped around rose leaves, lupin leaves, and black tea leaves in a tannin mordant. (Boiled today.)

What's curing: Eucalyptus leaves, false indigo leaves and pods, rusty nails, copper wire, wrapped in cotton and cotton blend with an alum mordant. (Steamed two days ago.)

My New Obsession

Tonight I started my first eco-print experiments based on India Flint's technique. I had such fun poking through the bits of rusty metal I've dug out of the garden over the years. (I knew I saved those for a reason!) Our work party got rained out this morning, but I puttered around the MOP and brought back a couple of plants to experiment with. I bought a big old dye pot at the Salvation Army and steamed some wrapped cotton bundles in an alum mordent. I'm so excited! My beloved says "I'm glad you've found a new obsession." Me too.

The Hammer

One of my friends wryly calls me "The Hammer", which is quite appropriate these days because I am hammering flowers in my backyard. Yes, it sounds a bit mad, but it is a way of making flower prints on paper and fabric as I learned from India Flint's book.

Yesterday I said I was back to normal and rested, but today I reverted back to feeling my art lag. I spent most of the day researching garden blogs online. This is a whole new world that has opened up to me and I am searching for a blog list of kindred spirits, particularly in the Pacific Northwest.

Monday often goes either high or low energy for me, there is no inbetween. Mondays and Tuesdays are usually prep days for me and today I got materials ready for a workshop I'm teaching at Moberly on Wednesday for the summer camp. I'm really looking forward to getting into the herb garden and working with the kids.

Thursday is a work party at MOP. I'll let you folks know the details if you want to come out and pull weeds with us. In the meantime I am spending many hours watering the four gardens I am responsible for helping out with this summer. A happy task.

Shetland Mysteries

I've just read Anne Cleeves's new mystery, Blue Lightening. I thought it wasn't as good as her other books. The main murder victim especially seemed cardboard and two dimensional. I like the setting of her novels on the Shetlands and found the references to the birding culture very engaging, but the characters weren't up to scratch.

I also read Shadow, by Karin Alvtegen, a Swedish mystery quite different from the rest of the Scandi pack. This is not my favorite kind of mystery, heavy on soap opera with characters you don't really care about because they are so self-involved. There are so many people trapped in unhappy lives in this novel it lacks a grounded character, and it makes for depressing summer reading with a melodramatic climax. The ending is somewhat predictable because you get a sense of what the novel is building towards long before it happens.

I watched Broken Flowers by Jim Jarmusch. Not much there to see folks, except good performances by the women in between long stretches of very dull scenes with Bill Murry and his friend Winston. Ho. Hum.

I am feeling more like myself after a week off, and had a great time at a garden work party yesterday. I love the feeling of community, working outdoors, sharing knowledge, and making things grow.

Today's Happiness Is

A grilled cheese sandwich, glass of dry French rosé and a Henning Mankell novel: The Man Who Smiled. The weather has turned cool(er) and drizzly which is a relief after the yesterday's heat. Peter baked the potatoes I bought at the market yesterday and I scarfed them with salmon and creme fraîche. I spent hours on cleaning house today and finally feel as though I'm close to catching up on it. Although I am on a week off, I end up spending a lot of time on e-mails fielding volunteer requests.

James Bond and Co.

I watched Quantum of Solace last night and in a bizarre way I really enjoyed the fast-paced action thriller. I don't like the car chases and carnage, but I like the plot, the jet-setting and the S. E. X. Daniel Craig is too sexy.

I have also been watching Hitchcock: Rebecca, which has acting that dates it, but the lovely influence of Hitch, who is an incredible visual storyteller. I am also watching episodes of "Hitchcock Presents." It's so fun to see famous actors in their youth--Chloris Leachman et al.

I'm desperately seeking summer novels. Action and plot, people, I need movement!

Summer Reading and Movies Too

I have officially begun my summer reading. The first book was A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley. It's part of a mystery series with a girl detective that is set somewhere in England. Since it revolves around a family of gypsies, I was hooked from the start since I just performed as one last week. Lots of lovely twists and turns, memorable quotes, quirky humor and chemistry. Woot! There's a new one coming out for Christmas and did I mention the author is Canadian? Tres bon.

The novel also captures that particularly viciously playful nature of girls in the strange relationships among the three sisters.

ETA: This afternoon I watched a movie called Turn Left at the End of the World directed by Avi Nesher. It's a comedy and a tear jerker that I thoroughly enjoyed and the relationships among the women are passionate and engaging. The movie is set in the 1960's in the Negev dessert where a girl who is Jewish Moroccan makes friends with a girl from India. I highly recommend it for summer viewing.

I Love this Book!

So I waded through tourists today at Granville Island and bought Eco Colour by India Flint at Maiwa. I love the book and feel such an affinity for the processes she uses. I am itching to try her techniques!

Twilight Wishes

Thanks to all who came out to the tea party tonight. It's been a longtime dream of mine to have an outdoor event like this on a long summer's eve and I was so pleased the weather co-operated. It's an important thing to witness twilight as a collective. The garden becomes mysterious and enchanted. I hope people enjoyed themselves. Now that I've done one moth cape, I'd like to do a series of them, maybe playing with dyeing, batik, and stenciling. It would be fun to be able to give them out to people to wear at an event.

Tomorrow we tackle the bamboo fence and Tuesday I am going to Granville Island to buy myself a treat. All will be revealed.

Life Skills, I mean Real Life Skills

So I have been under a great deal of pressure this last week. I went and overbooked myself into a tight spot. I wake up at night with the anxiety. Today something shifted. I woke up at five and heard heavy rain, which relaxed me because it means I don't have three gardens to water today. I shifted some bamboo we'll be working with and the guy who helped me was a mensch. I stepped into his van and the smell brought me right back into childhood, riding in my dad's three quarter ton. We used to head in at five am to get groceries, over an hour away in North Battleford, Sask. On the way in we'd listen to CBC radio. We'd have breakfast at a greasy spoon. I'd wander around the shops on my own until dad had loaded up the truck. Sometimes we'd visit the museum where my grandpa donated artifacts. Sometimes we'd make a detail to Cutknife to see the World's Biggest Tomahawk. Mostly we'd just travel in silence watching the prairies roll by. We didn't talk much and we liked it that way. I learned that is a good and comfortable way to be with a person.

At the school I had some of the older boys help me clean and prep the bamboo. I loved watching them explore the bamboo and enjoy its simple beauty. They compared the young and the old bamboo. They learned how to saw it. They learned about the nodes and diaphrams. One guy had to try to saw through a node and he did it with determination and patience. They had their silly fooling around moments and I curbed their enthusiasm only when I felt they were playing dangerously. They cleaned and scrubbed and got bored. They sang and joked and pranced around. We had fun. Ironically, the students in the classroom next to us were watching a Disney Cartoon: Hercules. I watched that show SO MANY TIMES with my son. There's a motivational song "I can go the distance." It's cheezy and I love it. I sang along and hummed it all day.

As the clouds lifted and the sun came out the weather also cleared in my interior landscape. I felt lighter and I saw a way into the future, past the stress and deadlines. It was a spiritual experience that came at an unexpected time in an unexpected way.

I will not let the bastards get me down.

I will learn to monetize my life's work.

I will continue to teach life skills and be inspired in turn by my students.

It's gonna be all right.

The Tourist Trade

I've said before I love helping tourists and today I helped a couple from New Zealand to get to Queen E Park. (I told them they MUST see Van Dusen Gardens.) They somewhat reluctantly told me they were from Christ Church, and their eyes filled with tears as they described the destruction in their city. Of course they come here to escape the trauma and I want to know all about their experiences. As gently as I could, I asked them about it. One quake happened at 4 am when everyone was in bed and it was dark. Another happened on a weekday when everyone was at work. They described liquification of land, raising of the river bed and that uneasy feeling of never knowing when another quake will hit. They were describing a form of post traumatic stress. They said every building in the city will eventually be inspected and rated for damage. Somehow I find that detail very poignant--the idea that everyone is waiting for a man or woman to bear witness to how well their dwelling bore the stress of the quakes and after shocks. Blessings to them on their journeys.

Neurotic Ramblings

We just had another neighborhood earthquake meeting. I am always poised between hysteria and neurosis when I start thinking about "the big one." Whenever I go somewhere new, I think about what it would be like to be in that spot when there is an earthquake. Like, what happens if I am in the basement of the Waldorf Hotel eating baba ganouj beneath bamboo and concrete and there is a quake? Tonight my neighbors were talking about how safe we'll be because we're on bedrock up here on "Mount Pleasant." Yeh, but what if you're not here, what if you're in the basement of the high-rise building downtown getting a crown on a tooth? What if that building is like 17 or more storeys high? What if you're in the lower level of a sky train tunnel in between stations? What if the ground just opens and swallows you up? See, this is why I hate thrillers.

I hate being without my family at those moments when I feel vulnerable because being separated from them in an earthquake is a horror I can't bear to think about. But one of the big themes at our meeting tonight is how we have to commit to take care of one another. I think learning to care for our neighbors is a really good goal--just on a daily basis. There is a man in our neighborhood who is blind and today I watched him carry a bucket around his yard. I think he was feeling the leaves of his plants to see how dry they were. I would love to meet him. My immediate response was to head over there and help him, but it would have been an insult really, as he is so self-contained and independent. Still, I would like to meet him, selfishly mostly for what he could teach me.

I am thinking about Terry Fox's mom today. She was an amazing woman. She knew how to care for people.

I have a bad taste in my mouth today after hearing people on the radio feeling sorry for the disenchanted young men who rioted downtown last week. Certainly, I don't think they should be lynched by social media, but feel sorry for them? "Young men just don't feel valued by society," one phone-in caller says. Uh what about all the young women, especially those who don't lash out at property and authority, but instead harm themselves. Give me a f-ing break. And what about the weird fetishizing of the hoarding that people have written messages on? What kind of vomit-tinted nostalgia fuels the impulse to save that graffiti in its hard copy form for posterity? Take a photo. Duh. All this typical Vancouver glossing over and airbrushing its image makes me tired and frustrated. Typical navel gazing waste of time. Let's move on and hear some real news now, like about people with real problems.

So M wanted to know what I performed in the cabaret. I don't know. The problem is cabaret doesn't read well off the page. I am thinking of doing some U-Tube adaptations of some pieces this summer, so stay tuned for that.

I have been doing hours of sewing and I really want to take this moment to thank my little old Singer machine for going the distance with me on this one. I may buy her chocolates--and eat them because she can't. The good thing about sewing is that I have been able to listen to hours of CBC radio in between chugging down seams. I have heard some great interviews. The one that stands out the most for me is Michael Enright's interview with and Australian novelist named Geraldine Brooks who was absolutely hilarious. She had me the first time she giggled. His interview with Amira Hass was also pure gold. Today Shelagh Rogers talked to another very funny author--Ann Patchett. Her adventures in the Amazon were well told. She is another writer who does well with an audience.

So I am almost ready to hang my piece, perform my persona on Sunday, but I do need to put on the finishing touches. It's not as well-rounded a piece as I'd hoped to create, but the extra layers will have to be added if I perform/install in another time. Sometimes you just have to call it a day. I will be fighting to use whatever creative energy I have left between now and then to tease/tear more depth out of it.

Salad Days

Let the floral salads begin! Viola and nasturtiums grown from seed are now blooming so we can pop them into our daily salads. The more you pick them, the more they bloom, so it's a win-win situation.

I am sewing all weekend. Not my favorite activity, but it's raining, so it's a cozy indoor day at the Singer.

Dude, You Haz a Fan

Michael Kimmelman, Mr. Art Critic with a fresh, vibrant voice, where have you been all my life? I just stumbled on the first of your series of Postcards in the New York Times and I am besotted. I can't wait to read your book and more of your writing. You've lifted me from my post-Vancouver riot blues. Thanks dude!

Which Riot?

So last night I was one of five performers who responded to the events of April 23, 1935 when Mayor Gerry McGeer read the Riot Act to the relief camp protesters, their families and supporters gathered at Victory Square. I count Anakana Schofield as one of the performers because she read some texts from the archives of the original event that helped put the works by the rest of us into context and provide the connective tissue that held the live event together.

The event was at the Waldorf hotel which is an old tiki tiki-style building which I'd heard a lot about but had never visited. Just visiting the Waldorf was a bit of an adventure, but of course with the added edge of performing two pieces it promised to be a curious event. It's been a long time since I performed in a cabaret, I used to do at least three or four a year. It's a genre that I love because of the sense of the potluck and the camaraderie among the performers back stage. I've been back stage with "Colonel Sanders," drag queens, women in fetish gear, naked Butoh dancers painting their bodies white, "Sonny and Cher", and more poets, musicians and feminists than you can shake a stick at. I love the surreal quality of the backstage life, crackling with nervous tension and sometimes a frisson of animosity. However, generally because we're all freaks we tend to pull together and root for each other.

I came to the venue in costume, knowing full well there might not be a green room, and I was ushered back into a small venue called "The Hideaway" with at least one black velvet painting of a woman in the process of losing her grass skirt and a shitload of bamboo. It covers walls, posts, bars, and furnishes the place. The odd thing is that none of the other performers chose to hang out "backstage". I guess it's my theatre background coming through here vs. their visual art/music/writer history. So I sat backstage by myself snacking on crackers and baba ganouj, taking in the rather dreary little tiki tiki room and I examined what was hiding behind all the curtains and screens. The answer is nothing really, but those furnishings do create an air of seedy mystery about the place. I enjoyed the focus I was able to achieve by being alone. This is what the big stars must feel like when they are about to go on, except they'd have assistants to fuss around them. I warmed up, snacked and then I waited. I couldn't see or hear what was going on in the cabaret space so I was in a kind of tiki tiki limbo. What could one do but think about one's life in the cabaret?

I remember reading an artist I admire say that she stopped doing cabaret because the costs and time outweighed the fees you are paid. That is true in most cases, except we were paid appropriately last night, maybe the first and last time that will ever happen, but one can dream. Performing is a ritual that makes you face your body in a real way. I find writing the easy part--it's the vulnerability of using my body as the tool as it is very challenging. However, I think it's important to keep at it. It's a glorious form of human expression--raw, direct, and full of potential. Many of the audience are often performers as well, hungry for a good night out with substance, style, humor, and food for thought. It's the kind of challenge you want to keep doing until you feel you master it, even though that goal is ephemeral.

Performing in a cabaret is very rewarding in other ways than the monetary ones. You have to face yourself as an audience of yourself, creating distance in order to be able to create work for the "other". This develops your third eye and helps you face your aging mind and body as you celebrate it (even if you do so ironically). We don't always like what we come up with, but last night I felt very happy with what I was able to do and I really appreciate being given the opportunity to explore the theme.

I didn't reference the subject matter directly--it is the language of the legal manipulation of people that interests me most right now, so I wanted to focus on that. I studied the new age books and lingo that are espousing non violent communication because I wanted to know how we prevent the build up of injury and frustration that leads to violence. Now the events in April 1935 were very specific to that time--extreme hardship and life-threatening poverty. The words created to stop the crowds in this context seem inadequate and impotent. Similarly, one assumes reading the Riot Act last night would mean SFA to that frenzied group of hardcore rioters.

I am intrigued about that moment when an action turns from being legal to illegal. There's that moment when behavior becomes destabilized and then that sets off a chain reaction of words and events that the law is created to stop and turn back. The language created to push back at the darker impulses humans have has to be very potent.

I must commend the cops on taking a non-aggressive approach to the looting and burning that happened last night. It seemed wise to put the values of people's safety over the damage of property. And that seemed to be the main thrust of the action--let's destroy and steal shit.

So I wonder does sport have the potential to provide a safe outlet for pent up energy that can turn aggressive? Maybe we should be spending more money on amateur sport so that instead of being nations of watchers, we are nations of players. Even my son said he researched the last hockey riots in Vancouver and predicted something similar would happen in last night. I had a feeling it would go either way: a bliss-out boostering hooplah or a number from the dark side.

I must say that I will never forget emerging from a dim cabaret and seeing a black plume of smoke against the glow of a June sunset.

Counter Culture Babe

It's official. I am forty-something and still a member of the "counter culture". 99 per cent of people in town will be watching the game tomorrow a and either celebrating or rioting and I will be performing to a fraction of the remaining 1 per cent at a cabaret about reading the riot act. It's surreal. Actually it's quite hilarious.

And tonight I had to attend a PAC meeting which is about as fun as having a root canal. A half of a bottle of wine later I am not feeling the pain. No more PAC meetings for me. They is BAD for ma mental health.

I listened to AMT on The Current this morning--CBC 1 on why so many girls are missing from India and China. It's tragic and fascinating that now that women are being accepted more and more into Asian culture, female girls in these countries are still being aborted at an astounding rate. I highly recommend the podcast.

I am amused at how Ules' tennis instructor's wisdom has infiltrated his brain. Basically he said " You find a sport you like and that's what you spend your time learning and playing." Ullie has commented to me on several walks home from school on how this applies to many things in life. Bless him. Hopefully the protestant martyr complex in my family will skip a generation.

I have had an amazing day of drawing for hours, studies of the leopard moth to morph into a cape. Catherine's studio practice is rubbing off on me in a good way!

Getting it Done

Don't you just love those days when you get way more done than you thought you would? Booya! I've got a start on my moth cape, but found that the ultra suede I chose does fray when I thought it would not. This calls for a change in strategy--probably appliqué rather than reverse-appliqué. I also am closer to resolving the turban but I am stuck on the crystal ball. I brought a cool alternative today, but don't think it will work. It's pink and looks like an internal organ crystal ball but I don't know if I can make it glow brightly enough. I think I have the tent issue resolved in my head, but I just hope and pray the little old Singer keeps on truckin'.

Lovely block party yesterday--pics coming soon. I have sourced a real riot gear helmet for the cabaret at the Waldorf on Wednesday. I hope some people come in spite of the BIG GAME. What are the odds that this would happen?

Blimey, who is having a drumming circle in our neighborhood? Piss off!

Peter's Home!

Peter's back and all is well with the world. We are just about to go out for tea. I love that he always comes back with new ideas and stories from his trips. It's a good injection of inspiration into his art practice. He's intrigued with alternative energy at the moment. I am mothing along, yes moth-ing, working on a cape at the moment. I am also assembling costumes and practising for Wednesday's cabaret. Let's hope the Canucks win on Monday so we have an audience on Wednesday at the Waldorf!

Off to search for a crystal ball, top hat, cravat and cane!

Je Mange le Chocolat

Yes, I am on a bender of the chocolate variety. Good chocolate, bad chocolate. All due to a DVD of "The Closer" with a main character played brilliantly by Kyra Sedgewick. I am so channeling that detective right now, with her sugar-dipped voice and her secret drawer of forbidden treats. Chai chocolate pudding from Shaktea, brownies and cinnamon chocolate walnut meringues from Coco et Olive, homemade chocolate coconut banana smoothies. BRING IT ON. And on the other side of this bipolar diet disorder we have kale and arugula. This is what happens when my man goes off flying to the nation's capital, leaving me unbalanced and off kilter.

Ignore the woman behind the curtain wiping the crumbs from her mouth.

Plant Some Beans and Lighten Up

Today I plant the bush beans. I'll plant some in my raised bed and start some inside for the places I'll need to protect them from the slugs. Yesterday I harvested almost all the radishes and so I have space now. I've been eating radishes and kale almost every supper now in an attempt to lighten up my diet. "Lighten up" is my key phrase for the month. I've got to get rid of this tendency to plunge into anxiety as I get more and more tired from my busy season. Only about 28 more days to go before things really lighten up. The weather has also been my nemesis this spring. I do appreciate all the rain but the cold temperatures are getting on my tits.

Yesterday I harvested and culled bamboo in C's yard and we had a nice glass of iced bancha twig tea under the lilac tree chez-nous. My friend dropped off some wild garlic in a pot and also a few stalks to try. It is pungeant and fresh. I think this used to grow on the prairie. I have a sweet memory of a sunny day on a hillside with that same pungent smell coming from a plant with delicate white flowers.

I have been ironing fabric to prep it for my installation. I have to bite the bullet and start cutting now. It's that vulnerable stage between conception and realization. I hate this bit. This is where I wish I had a proper studio with a large clean cutting table, an industrial sewing machine and an assistant!

We've been enjoying the Ataulfo mangoes in smoothies with cardamon, yogurt and rosewater. P should be home soon. We sure miss him and he has been incommunicado as usual. All these new ways to communicate and not one word. Strewth.

Banners and Bamboo

I went to the volunteer tea at the school today which was delightful and had a cupcake theme.

This is the prototype for my next teaching project. Of course the reverse appliqué is inspired by the Alabama Chanin style.

I love this piece of graffiti art that is on the way to the MOP garden. I think I've seen other work by this person around town.

I had a porchetta sandwich at the new place on Cambie beside Choices. It was pretty good--a bit salty in spots where there was more mayo, but I loved the crispy bits of crackling. It really needs to be eaten with an ice cold glass of dry apple cider though. Then it would be perfect. Also coleslaw on the side would rock.

I have developed a wierd candy fixation. Today I had to have chocolate-covered nougat which is one of my weaknesses.

I did go to Anthropologie this past weekend and I felt like screaming I wanted so many things. I also love the decor. People were lined up out the door and they were laden with stuff they were going to buy. Some of the stuff is really high quality, but the jewelry is crap IMO.

Mango Days

We are really missing Peter. It's been so long since he went away on a trip it feels really empty here without him. I am busy working on my installation piece. It was warm enough to work outside this morning so I ripped apart two curtains I am going to rework. I was listening to Mr Gomeshi talk to Susie Bright on CBC while picking part stitches under the lilac tree. Ms. Bright was genuine, humble, and brilliant. More interviews like this please and less hyper-pop air heads.

I just baked a mango coconut bread because the Ataulfo mangoes are good right now. I got the recipe from Ceci n'est Pas un food Blog. I baked it for an hour, which is half an hour less than the original recipe.