uncorked

Happy Belated Birthday Blog Post Lis!

2011-10-17T13:22:00.000-07:00

2011-10-07T17:10:00.000-07:00

Three blank canvases, a bottle of something sparkling and a weekend on my own...

Text Messenging...

2011-09-04T08:52:00.000-07:00

Helen: GM. U up yet?

Me: Ya, U?

Helen: Barely, texting from bed.

Me: I'm texting from the toilet

Helen: Ur gross!

Me: While enjoying a bologna sandwich

Me: I'm kidding

Helen: Well, i'm naked.

Me: Hahaaaa!

Helen: I'm kidding

***

I love texting.

Happy 23rd Sam!

2011-07-01T16:36:00.000-07:00

Today

2011-06-28T05:14:00.000-07:00

3:30am - Run in with coon on back deck attempting to ravage dog food
4:30am - Milk Run
6:00am - Grocery Run
10:00am- New job at design store!
3:00pm - Second interview for a floral design job i really want!

And the best thing is the pink suede gladiator sandals i got for $15 yesterday to go forth and conquer in!

2011-06-27T12:08:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting bit of trivia if you happen to be using a cell phone or wireless internet today. In 1885, when Heinrich Rudolf Hertz discovered electro magnetic waves in Germany, he commented,

"I do not think that the wireless waves I have discovered will have any practical application.”

Happy 21st Josh!

2011-06-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

Breathtaking

2011-05-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

I wonder what it would cost to build a small chateau...?

Such a cool ad....

2011-05-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

From Ads of the World - Mercedes Benz. Follow the jump to read the print.

2011-05-20T08:10:00.000-07:00

Hey Richard! It's planting weekend! Are you up yet?! We need to get to Art Knapp's for red/pink geraniums, blue lobelia, yellow marigolds, and buy out all the fertilizer!

So far, I've planted a white Gardenia and a white petunias, and it's only 8:10! Are you planting yet?!

Lamb for Easter

2011-04-17T07:45:00.000-07:00

I'm sooo making these.

April 9th

2011-04-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

Today marks the 23rd anniversary of my dad's death
And the the 78th anniversary of his birth.
Richard Christian Grant Helem, April 9, 1933 - April 9, 1988
Lover of song, watcher of birds, counter of numbers.
Loved and missed.
xo.

(Dad, Rich & Me - April 9, 1987)

Styled. The Art of Merry Making

2011-04-08T14:53:00.000-07:00

A fabulous new online magazine on the art of the party. Gorgeous photos, creative ideas and omgosh, I wish I'd thought of it...

2011-04-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

So day one of Dream Lab has us making 'clearings'. Whatever kind fits - physical, emotional, relational.

I was at a bit of a loss, cuz I'm trying to fill my life not clear it. But I guess I could take down my christmas tree for a start...

2011-04-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

Looking forward to starting this online course today.

2011-02-17T17:48:00.000-08:00

My 14 year old son is writing a paper on the Ottawa Indian Tribe and just asked me to edit it for spelling errors. In the section on attire he writes,

'Men in the summer wore a piece of clothe that crossed between their legs and around their waste.'

I'm pretty sure he meant waist - but just for fun, I'm leaving it.

Coming Up Roses

2011-02-11T07:23:00.000-08:00

I'm on a bit of a cake tangent at the moment. Another glorious cake disguising itself as art...

Antoni Gaudi Architecture (1852-1926) Barcelona, Spain

2011-02-06T15:54:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen anything like it?
Magical Gothic Art Nouveau structures of utter mind boggling imagination.

'Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?!'

2011-02-06T09:29:00.000-08:00

So I woke up this morning to the heavy sound of rain water pouring from the drain spout outside my bedroom window splooshing onto the concrete below. I don't know why - but that sound gets me like clammy damp hands tightening around my throat or wait, worse - reaching into my bra. Or wait! worse again! chinese water torture! Not a way to start the day...

I got up and wrote myself a little note, 'talk about hope to yourself today', hoping to ward off the familiar threatening February gloom. I spend all February trying to figure out what i need to make it better... A change of paint colour in my house? a bigger life? a lot of chocolate? a lobotomy?

So I opened my trusty google page and googled hope for the second time this week. There's alot of lame ass stuff out there, religious platitudes, sentimental quotes and such, but not much to rip off the slimey, dense, life choking, westcoast moss climbing up my soul, the way it does on trees and fences and geeez, even rocks this time of year.

But I found this! Nine minutes of lyrical nonsense that uprooted the invasive green parazoan at least until the gutter starts to pour again... (or i can hop the next non-stop to Barcelona.)

Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are
Uploaded by MistyIsland1. - See more comedy videos.

This also captured my imagination this morning...

2011-02-05T11:30:00.000-08:00

'If you can discover what, in your life, brings you joy and simply do more of that thing, you are on the path towards fulfilment. If I keep noticing where the vitality in my life is and fish from that pool, joy follows. Joy’s a subjective business. Honour yours.'

From What brings you joy - Letting Go. I love this blog.

Ooo, Rumplestiltskin

2011-02-05T11:19:00.000-08:00

This gorgeous golden creation has captured my imagination this morning.
Cake art.

2011-02-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

'Oooo, what can we do today to make ourselves feel better?!' I lamented to my teenage daughter yesterday morning. I'd flopped on the couch in irritated angst, feeling as dismal inside as the rain looked outside. 'It's grey and cold and wet, I'm bored! I just hate February, don't you!?'

'Well, I know what i'm doing!' she told me brightly. 'I'm going tanning!'

Tanning? I pondered, wondering if she'd found the solution i'm lacking. 'Does it feel good getting a tan?' I asked. I was having visions of bright Caribbean warmth, even if only from a tanning bed.

'I dunno. No.' she replied. 'It doesn't feel like anything.'

'Well, what's so good about it, then? I asked.

'I dunno.' she replied again. And in her 18 year old wisdom added, 'It just...sorta...gives me hope.'

***

Hope... I always find my hope quotient pretty low this time of year. I've packed away my fairytale Christmas trees and what's left of the season is mainly overdue credit card bills and too tight jeans. Somehow in February I don't quite believe my dreams of traveling to castles in Germany or villas in Florence. I entertain myself not with intriguing ideas & plans, but rather monitoring a somewhat horrifying arthritic nub growing on my right pointer finger, confirming my 51 years. And sometimes my 5 kids lives look a whole lot more interesting than mine...

To be honest, I wish i was a more of a glass half full kind of person. I'm not exactly a glass half empty person either - but rather one of those freaks of psychology who can find a fly, a hair, dried milk scum or a tumour, floating in their glass whether it's half full or half empty. Sometimes it's good to drink to the beat of your own drum. (and misuse idioms.)

But seriously, hope is a big deal, and where we look for it is a big deal too. There's alot of things that make a good masquerade of being hope. But in the end are just shapeshifters, promising one kind of transformation, but leading to another. I have some personal favs; good vodka, low interest rates and dangerous men, but none of them held the promise of hope I hoped they might.

Hope is a big business too. Everybody's selling it for the cost of a hardcover, a 3 week seminar or a religious conversion. I know - I've bought all three and still struggle to find hope on a daily basis. I don't know if it's my background, my temperament or my choice, but hope does not come easily to me. But I'm coming to realize more and more that i need hope, and perhaps the only way I'll find it is in learned optimism - and a dedicated hunt for light in the shadows.

***

My husband trudged despondently up the stairs last night, home from the last church board meeting of his 7 year career as chairman.

'Are you depressed?!' I asked a little too cheerily.

'It's all about hope.' he told me, not sounding too hopeful. He's built his hope within the framework of religion and church service.

That's not my kind of hope, in fact I find that kind of hope a bit of a subjective delusion. But each to his own i suppose...

***

A few weeks ago i was driving home in the rain, listening to clip on the radio about a street guy launched into unexpected fame for his radio voice. You may have heard it too. After years on the street, addiction, family sorrows, etc - light broke through for him, he was 'discovered' and became instantly famous. The radio announcers loved telling the tale. A Cinderella story to be sure.

At the same moment, I looked toward the shoulder of the road, and saw another street guy, drenched through, wearing a very likely stolen rubber construction cape. He was pushing a shopping cart brimming with empty pop cans, forging quickly & determinedly through the puddles and gravel, going who knows where. But decidedly going somewhere. Not a Cinderella story. But i saw something almost inexplicable in him. Something oddly of hope, in spite of.

I'm beginning to think finding hope might be a bit less like a fairytale, or a religion - and a bit more like finding a 3 cent return deposit on a pop can...

***

It's not another morning in paradise in my house this morning. I have 9 people staying here right now, two of my three showers have broken down, the heater knob in my car is crazy glued to full blown hot position, I've been sick for 4 days, the dog has a leaky bladder issue that stinks. And it's still pissing rain.

And I have no solutions. And yes, I know it could be worse, but i want it better.

But my daughter just asked me to come to the gym with her and try out the tanning bed. And I think i might go. I'm getting kind of tired of being a professional pessimist and who knows, this might turn out to be today's 3 cent return on my pop can.

Sometimes it's ok to buy the hope you sell yourself.

2011-01-28T07:43:00.001-08:00

O my heart does a little jump every time i find something so well said!
Albert Camus. French Algerian author, philosopher, journalist.

I only know enough about philosophy to stick my foot in my mouth, but his observations on absurdity, paradox & dualism fascinate me...

2011-01-24T16:05:00.000-08:00

Man - this January rain! Like January isn't dull and anti climatic enough without drenching us through and through with this incessant gloomy wetness...

So I'm going to share the one redeeming secret to days like these; days when i find myself driving endlessly in this slop. Just before the corner of 14th and Hyde, there's a fantastic puddle where the sewer water's backed up into a sleeping reservoir of potential. If you speed into it with your car - you can create an astonishing parting of the red sea wall of water - the faster you go, the higher it goes. And if you're immature, as i am , it'll send your adrenaline pumping and make your kids squeal with delight. There's also another rich dense puddle in the entrance to the parking lot of Hatzic Secondary, and at the corner of Finch and Ptarimigan.

Practice mindfulness today. Enjoy what is. (and woe to unsuspecting pedestrians.)

2011-01-20T17:09:00.000-08:00

From the District of Mission & Animal Control:

'Dear Mrs. Abercrombie,

Please be advised that a medium sized white boxer with black markings blocked the path and confronted the mail carrier at the entrance to your cul de sac and as a result, several homes on Finch Terrace did not recieve mail delivery last week.

In view of the threat posed by your dog, your mail will be held in general delivery until we recieve written notice of the measures you will be taking to control your animal...'

Dear District of Mission & Animal Control,

All that i expect in my mailbox is overdue credit card bills I'm hiding from my husband and a mammogram cancer screeing notice. I will not be taking any measures to control my animal.
... Bite me...

2011-01-12T07:17:00.001-08:00

Nothing i appreciate more than the ease of relationship demonstrated in an email closing/sign off i recieved this morning:

'Gotta poo.'

Life's simple amusements.

Storyboard for my imaginary life...

2011-01-09T20:54:00.000-08:00

Awed once again...

2011-01-08T23:37:00.000-08:00

The Duomo of Siena, Italy. Built between 1215 and 1263.

Every now & then...

2011-01-08T09:37:00.001-08:00

I stumble across something that takes my breath away in it's creativity. A fabric waterfall...

2011-01-07T19:33:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what happened today. I was taking down the christmas tree and ended up putting up 2 more... Balls & all.

Speaking of which, here's a seasonal excerpt from Shit My Dad Says to ring in the New Year:

"No thanks. I don't need a party to celebrate New Year's. All I need is a bottle of bourbon and a t-shirt that hangs down past my balls."

Yup, me too.
Happy New Year!

So I got a new camera for christmas.

2011-01-06T18:25:00.000-08:00

And it's amazing what images i can capture lying on my bed.

My daughter Sarah however captures a different, more detailed and beautiful world...

Love this too...

2011-01-03T09:05:00.001-08:00

Love this...

2010-12-26T14:34:00.000-08:00

'And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.'

- Roald Dahl
(classic children's writer, 1916-1990
James & the Giant Peach, Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)

'...all is calm, all is bright...'

2010-12-24T19:39:00.000-08:00

Well, it's not calm at my house, but it is bright.
Merry Christmas Eve!

2010-12-23T08:06:00.000-08:00

Especially loving Vienna at Christmas...

2010-12-10T16:09:00.000-08:00

Today is the one year anniversary of the last gig at the Dog. It was a christmas banquet. I remember it as clearly as if it happened one hour ago. The stunned mix of melancholy, relief, disbelief and the awful surrendering of a dream.

It takes a long time to get over such things.

TV Guide - Holiday Specials

2010-12-07T07:35:00.000-08:00

I'm really looking forward to The He-Man and She-Ra Christmas special on December 18th.

DECEMBER 6
• Little Mosque on the Prairie Christmas Special, 9 p.m. ET, CBC
• A Charlie Brown Christmas, 8 p.m. ET, ABC (repeats Dec. 16, 8 p.m. Also airs Dec. 18, 6 p.m. ET, YTV, and repeats Dec. 19, 8:30 p.m., Dec. 22, 7:30 p.m.)
• Will You Merry Me, 8 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 7
• The Last Christmas, 10 p.m. ET, W Network
• The Night Before the Night Before Christmas, 8 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 11, 2 p.m. ET)
• A Muppets Christmas: Letters to Santa, 7 p.m. ET, CTV (repeats Dec. 18, 5 p.m. ET, Comedy)

DECEMBER 8
• Chopped Holiday Special, 10 p.m. ET, The Food Network
• It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, 10 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 9
• Ace of Cakes: Holidays on King, 10 p.m. ET, The Food Network
• Shrek the Halls, 8 p.m. ET, ABC (repeats Dec. 24, 7:30 p.m. ET, CTV)
• Olivia: Snow Lady, 5:30 p.m. ET, Treehouse (repeats Dec. 21, 5:30 p.m.)

DECEMBER 10
• Rita MacNeil’s Cape Breton, 8 p.m. ET, CTV

DECEMBER 11
• Decked for the Holidays, noon, HGTV
• The Best Thing I Ever Ate, Holiday Special, 4 p.m. ET, The Food Network
• Jason McCoy: Christmas at the Grand, 7 p.m. ET, CMT
• Hockey Night in Canada — 3D, Montreal vs. Toronto, 6:30 p.m. ET, CBC
• Frosty the Snowman, 8 p.m. ET, CBS (repeats Dec. 17, 8:30 p.m.)
• Frosty Returns, 8:30 p.m. ET, CBS (repeats Dec. 17, 9 p.m. ET)
• The Flight Before Christmas, 9 p.m. ET, CBS
• Max & Ruby: Christmas Passed, 11:30 a.m. ET, Treehouse
• Team Umizoomi: Santas Fixers, noon, Treehouse
• Santa Baby, 7 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 12, 10 a.m. and Dec. 20, 9 p.m. ET, CMT)
• Santa Baby 2, 9 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 12, 4 p.m. ET and Dec. 24, 9 p.m. ET; Dec. 21, 9 p.m. ET, CMT)
• Disney Prep & Landing, 7:30 p.m. ET, CTV
• Jeff Dunham’s Very Special Christmas Special, 11 p.m. ET, Comedy
• A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift of All, 10 p.m. ET, Comedy
• It’s a Wonderful Life, 8 p.m. ET, CTV/NBC (repeats Dec. 24, 8 p.m. ET.
• Gremlins, 12:05 a.m. ET, CTV (repeats Dec. 20, noon, The Movie Network/Movie Central)

DECEMBER 12
• Food Network Challenge: Holiday Windows, 7 p.m. ET, The Food Network
• Spike: The World of Santa Clause, noon, YTV
• Home Alone 2: Lost in New York City, 6 p.m. ET, YTV (repeats Dec. 17, 7 p.m. ET, W Network)
• Christmas in Canaan, 11 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 15, 4 p.m. ET, Dec. 22, 8 p.m. ET, and Dec. 25, noon; Dec. 19, 10 p.m. ET, CMT)
• Deck the Halls, 10 p.m. ET and midnight, Showcase (repeats Dec. 25, 10 p.m. ET)
• A Heartland Christmas, 8 p.m. ET, CBA Being Eric Holiday Special, 9 p.m. ET, CBC

DECEMBER 13
• Mariah Carey: Merry Christmas To You, 9 p.m. ET, ABC
• Holiday in Handcuffs, 1 p.m. ET and 8 p.m. ET, W Network
• Under the Mistletoe, 11 a.m. ET and 6 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 14
• I Want A Dog For Christmas, Charlie Brown, 8 p.m. ET, ABC (repeats Dec. 18, 8 p.m.)
• The Penguins of Madagascar: The All Nighter Before Christmas, 7 p.m. ET, YTV
• The Town that Christmas Forgot, 7 p.m. ET, W Network
• Silent Night, 11 a.m. and 6 p.m., W Network

DECEMBER 15
• Iron Chef America: Holiday Battle, 11 p.m. ET, The Food Network
• Holly Jolly Special, 7:30 p.m. ET, YTV (repeats Dec. 19, 8:30 p.m., Dec. 21, 9 p.m. ET, Dec. 23, 9:30 p.m., Dec. 24, 3 p.m., Dec. 25, 2 p.m.)
• Back at the Barnyard: It’s an Udderful Life, 8 p.m. ET, Nickelodeon
• All She Wants for Christmas, 8 p.m. ET, W Network
• Being Erica Holiday Special, 9 p.m. ET, CBC

DECEMBER 16
• Merry Madagascar, 7 p.m. ET, YTV (repeats Dec. 19, 11:30 a.m., Dec. 24, 4 p.m.)
• Olivia: Christmas Surprise, 5:30 p.m. ET, Treehouse
• Holiday Wishes, 11 a.m. and 6 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 17
• Yes, Virginia, 8 p.m. ET, CBS
• This Christmas, 9 p.m. ET, YTV
• Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas, 6 p.m. ET, Treehouse (repeats Dec. 19, 7 p.m. ET)
• Fred Claus, 9:30 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 18, 10 a.m.)

DECEMBER 18
• Genevieve’s Holiday Home, noon, HGTV
• A Garfield Christmas Story, 8:30 p.m. ET, YTV (repeats Dec. 22, 7:30 p.m.)
• It’s Christmas Time, Charlie Brown, 6 p.m. ET, YTV
• A Flintstone Family Christmas, 7 p.m. ET, YTV
• ‘Tis the Season to be Smurfy, 8 p.m. ET, YTV
• He-Man and She-Ra Christmas Special, 9 p.m. ET, YTV
• Alf’s Christmas Special, 10 p.m. ET, YTV
• Sidekick: Beneath the Missile-Toe, 10:30 a.m. ET, YTV
• Snow 2: Brain Freeze, 7 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 19, 10 a.m.)
• Snow Globe, 9 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 19, 5 p.m.)

DECEMBER 19
• Santa Clause 2, 7 p.m. ET, ABC
• Santa Clause 3, 9 p.m., ABC
• Pearlie: Jingle Bell Park, 7:30 a.m. ET, YTV
• How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2 p.m. ET and 10 p.m. ET, Showcase (repeats Dec. 23, 8:30 p.m. ET, ABC)
• One Magic Christmas, 7 p.m. ET, CTV (repeats Dec. 22, 9 p.m. ET)
• Uncle Buck, 9 p.m. ET, CTV

DECEMBER 20
• Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, 7 p.m. ET, YTV (repeats Dec. 25, noon and 8 p.m.)

DECEMBER 21
• Meet the Santas, 1 p.m. ET and 8 p.m. ET, W Network
• A Wind at My Back Christmas, 11 a.m. ET and 6 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 22
• A Dog Named Christmas, 9 p.m. ET, CMT (repeats Dec. 23, 1 p.m. ET and 8 p.m. ET, W Network)
• 12th Annual Home for the Holidays, 8 p.m. ET, CBS
• Single Santa Seeks Mrs. Claus, 1 p.m. ET, W Network
• Eve’s Christmas, 11 a.m. ET and 6 p.m. ET, W Network

DECEMBER 23
• Kenny vs. Spenny Christmas Special, 9 p.m. ET, and 11 p.m. ET, Showcase
• 12 Days of Christmas Eve, 9 p.m. ET, CMT
• Home by Christmas, 11 a.m. ET and 6 p.m. ET, W Network
• Trailer Park Boys: Christmas Special, 10 p.m. ET, Showcase
• A Christmas Carol, 9 p.m. ET, CTV (repeats Dec. 24, 12:05 a.m. ET)
• How the Grinch Stole Christmas (animated), 8 p.m. ET, ABC

DECEMBER 24
• The Christmas Clause, 5 p.m. ET, The Movie Network/Movie Central
• Ice Quake, 7 p.m. ET, The Movie Network/Movie Central
• Four Christmases, 9 p.m. ET, The Movie Network/Movie Central
• It’s a Wonderful Life, 11 a.m. and 7 p.m., ET, W Network
• The Family Man, 10 p.m. ET, W Network (repeats Dec. 25, 10 a.m.)

DECEMBER 25
• Miracle on 34th Street, 1 p.m. ET and 10 p.m. ET, W Network
• Cancel Christmas, 6 a.m. ET, Showcase
• Holiday Switch, 8 a.m. ET, Showcase
• Christmas in Wonderland, noon, Showcase
• Christmas Crash, 2 p.m. ET, Showcase
• The Yule Log, 5 a.m. – 10 a.m., Citytv and 6 a.m. ET, CTV
• National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, 3:20 p.m. ET, Mpix

DECEMBER 26
• Rugrats Kwanzaa, 7:30 a.m. ET, Nickelodeon
• Christmas with the Kranks, 6:30 p.m. ET, W Network
• The Sound of Music, 7 p.m. ET, CTV/ABC

Next Year's Christmas Tree

2010-12-03T17:31:00.000-08:00

This will totally horrify my oldest son.

2010-12-01T06:45:00.000-08:00

Writer and chef Anthony Bourdain talks about drugs and making choices:

‘At no point in Kitchen Confidential, that I can find, does it say that cocaine or heroin were good ideas. In fact, given the book’s many episodes of pain, humiliation, and being constantly broke-ass, one would think it almost a cautionary tale. Yet, at readings and signings, I am frequently the inadvertent recipient of small packets of mysterious white powder; bindles of cocaine; fat, carefully rolled joints of local hydro, pressed into my palm or slipped into my pocket. These inevitably end up in the garbage—or handed over to a media escort. The white powders because I’m a recovered fucking addict—and the weed ’cause all I need is one joint, angel dust–laced by some psycho, to put me on TMZ, running buck-naked down some Milwaukee street with a helmet made from the stretched skin of a butchered terrier pulled down over my ears. Smoking weed at the end of the day is nearly always a good idea—but I’d advise ambitious young cooks against sneaking a few drags mid-shift at Daniel. If you think smoking dope makes you more responsive to the urgent calls for food from your expeditor, then God bless you, you freak of nature you. If you’re anything like me, though, you’re probably only good for a bowl of Crunchberries and a Simpsons rerun.

On the other hand, if you’re stuck heating up breakfast burritos at Chili’s—or dunking deep-fried macaroni at TGI McFuckwad’s? Maybe you need that joint.

Treating despair with drugs and alcohol is a time-honored tradition—I’d just advise you to assess honestly if it’s really as bad and as intractable a situation as you think. Not to belabor the point, but if you look around you at the people you work with, many of them are—or will eventually be—alcoholics and drug abusers. All I’m saying is you might ask yourself now and again if there’s anything else you wanted to do in your life.

I haven’t done heroin in over twenty years, and it’s been a very long time as well since I found myself sweating and grinding my teeth to the sound of tweeting of birds outside my window.

There was and is nothing heroic about getting off coke and dope.

There’s those who do—and those who don’t.

I had other things I still wanted to do. And I saw that I wasn’t going to be doing shit when I was spending all my time and all my money on coke or dope—except more coke and dope.

I’m extremely skeptical of the “language of addiction.” I never saw heroin or cocaine as “my illness.” I saw them as some very bad choices that I walked knowingly into. I fucked myself—and, eventually, had to work hard to get myself un-fucked.’

2010-11-26T12:17:00.001-08:00

So I'm sitting here at almost zero hour, wishing, wishing it was four o'clock and the afternoon was done.

I'm taking a bunch of christmas wreaths and decorations I've made to sell at a senior's home - and I'm suddenly unexpectedly wondering what in the world I was thinking when I so confidently agreed to the idea last month. Ever done that?

Risks. Even small ones. So much easier to talk about than to do...

..the goose is getting fat...

2010-11-25T21:13:00.000-08:00

Christmas is coming, and with it some events I'm looking forward to checking out both in town, and out here in the valley this year.

The Vancouver Christmas Market at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre Plaza from November 24th to December 24th looks amazing. All the magic of a traditional outdoor German Christmas market. Live music, caroling, german foods. Admission price only $5 for adults, and $2 for kids. (although check the site for details, apparently a fire has delayed the opening.)

Van Dusen Gardens is hosting their annual Festival of Lights from December 11th to January 3rd.

Arts Club Theatre is presenting two Christmas productions, It's a Wonderful Life, November 18th and White Christmas starting December 4th.

And out here in Mission, The Fraser Valley Academy of Dance is putting on it's annual production of The Nutcracker at Clarke Theatre, November 27th, 2/7:30 pm.

2010-11-18T06:41:00.000-08:00

More from the class: an unchristmas wreath, a wedding garland, incredible wristband floral corsage jewelery made of simple wire and bouquet holders made of foam & pvc pipe.

It was an amazing experience.

Making bridal bouquets in Vancouver

2010-11-16T20:10:00.000-08:00

And on my way to Tuscany...

2010-11-10T07:02:00.000-08:00

Versailles. More incredible pics here.

Armchair Traveling

2010-11-05T17:58:00.000-07:00

Ohhhhhhh, Tuscany.

Villa Monticello was built by the counts of Orsolini at Avenza in 1766 as a small country retreat. In the late 19th century, it was acquired by French Dervillé family, who did some renovating by adding grand flights of steps at the front and back, as well as loggias (balconies or entrance porches) on three sides of the villa. Statues and fragments of ancient sculptures still adorn the main entrance, while marble vases and a marble gable were placed on the roof.

One day...

Fairytale Candlesticks

2010-11-05T07:32:00.000-07:00

I don't know if the odd jumps at me, or I jump at the odd - but I'm loving this crooked candlestick. It reminds me of the dancing candlestick in Beauty & the Beast. This one was distorted in a three 3 program and cast in resin and marble. And it's only $24 bucks. Here.

Halloween Mindscapes

2010-11-01T10:44:00.000-07:00

2010-10-30T11:09:00.000-07:00

These are the sexiest, spookiest candy apples I've ever seen. The Bugatti Veyron of candy apples. If I was going to a halloween party, I might even take them. Oh wait, I am going to a halloween party. But I'll probably just take Col. Sanders to that. Chicken, not as a date...

Like seriously...

2010-10-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

From: EnlargeYourSnake (OkleNlKDj@lkEbdfE.com)
Sent: October 26, 2010 2:56:56 AM
To: adogwoman@hotmail.com

Impress Your Partner with Your Huge Package!

***

I'm not a man, and I don't own a snake. If I owned a snake I'd feed it cats to enlarge it...

Stolen Inspiration...

2010-10-22T13:30:00.000-07:00

The Great Pumpkin

2010-10-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

So I have a bit of a great pumpkin obsession at the moment. It's a new affective disorder I'm creating - seasonal pumpkinitis ocd. So you'll have to bear with me while I wax eloquent temporarily about orange squash.

If I had any inclination at all to bake, I might try these brownie pumpkins on a stick, cuz they're just so pretty & seasonal. But I don't. I might however, melt up some white chocolate and dip apples tonite, with some growers apple cider for inspiration and to round out the evening.

Also found this great outdoor display that I'm going to try and put together this weekend while all the boys in my fam are away. You hollow the pumpkin in the regular way, but the part that excites me is using the power drill to make the holes. I'm imagining the 'pop'. Something about that... The whole thing is lit up with christmas lights for a safe display.

When I was a kid, my dad had this treasured little 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil' monkey statue. This quirky display brought back the memory.

And for the religious among us, who want to celebrate with seasonal 'statement' flair, the Jesus pumpkin. (not on my front deck this year!)

Happy Harvest!

today

2010-10-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

...omgosh...

I Have a Dream...

2010-10-15T07:37:00.000-07:00

This is in Paris, and I'm going to do it under my back deck - but it's a start... .

Finding Inner Peace

2010-10-15T06:25:00.000-07:00

I'm passing this on to you cuz it definitely worked for me today, and we all could probably use a little more calm in our lives.

I read this morning that the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started.

So I looked around my house to see things I'd started and hadn't finished and, before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Chardonnay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of wum, a pockage of Prunglies, tha mainder of bot Prozic and Valum scriptins, the res of the Chesescke an a box a choclets.

Yu haf no idr how bludy guod I feel rite now.
Plaese pash dhis orn to dem yu fee ar in ned ov iennr paece.

Gypsy Punk for a Saturday Afternoon

2010-10-09T14:22:00.000-07:00

Written in honor of the crazy old lady who lived next door, who wore only, guess what - purple. This is my next life goal...

2010-10-08T04:44:00.000-07:00

Reaaaally changing your mind about your ingrained beliefs & attitudes is not like changing a light bulb or a bed. It's more like finding & replacing a mini bulb on a flickering string of cheap christmas lights.

Sometimes the effort hardly seems worth it. But then all of a sudden, half the string lights up for a second. And on you go in giddy hope of fixing the damn thing again...

What to do when you forgot your best friend's birthday and they got a mystery gift you didn't send...

2010-10-04T17:59:00.000-07:00

From: toadie_t@shaw.ca
To: adogwoman@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE:
Date: Sat, 2 Oct 2010 22:50:16 -0700

hey, did you send me the fruit basket?

***

From: Lori Abercrombie
To: Laura Toftager
Sent: Sunday, October 03, 2010 8:04 AM
Subject: RE:

Yes! Did you like it?! I wondered when you were going acknowledge it, you ungrateful woman!

Lori

***

From: toadie_t@shaw.ca
To: adogwoman@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE:
Date: Mon, 4 Oct 2010 15:48:06 -0700

shut up you did not !!!!!!!!

***

From: Lori Abercrombie
To: Laura Toftager
Sent: Monday, October 04, 2010 4:22 PM
Subject: RE:

Hahahaaahaahahaaaaaa!

Lori

***

From: Laura Toftager (toadie_t@shaw.ca)
Sent: October 4, 2010 5:19:27 PM
To: adogwoman@hotmail.com

Loser !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-10-03T18:56:00.000-07:00

So I went in to Vancouver yesterday (2.5 hour trip on the totally deconstructed Hwy 1) to the 2010 Christmas Gala Floral Trade Show. I'm flirting with the idea of Floral Design and this is the event for trends in the industry.

At the break, a fully catered gala event in itself, I sat with an impeccably and expensively dressed woman. I was already feeling a little conspicuous in flip flops & jeans, since nearly everyone was decked out like a christmas tree. Apparently it's inappropriate in Vancouver to wear black rubber thongs in October, but entirely appropriate to wear black silk thongs, especially if they're exposed...

The woman told me a story of her friend, a career florist who'd unexpectedly had her eyesight damaged after being hit in the face with bear spray.

'Bear spray?!' I responded, enthused at the offbeat subject. 'My gosh, if she was close enough to be sprayed on by a bear, she's lucky all she had damaged was her eyesight - she could have lost her life!'

The woman's delicate eyebrow shot up in horror. A deep silence followed and she turned to engage with the woman to her left.

Apparently bear spray is mace. Not bear piss.
Nothing like showing your valley colours at an urban event.

2010-09-21T06:47:00.001-07:00

I didn't care when bed bugs were infesting hotels in New York. Or motels and hostels in Calgary or Ottawa. But now that they're infesting the Welton Towers in Mission, I may never sleep again...

Geeking

2010-09-20T17:51:00.000-07:00

Erin is on one end of the couch checking her gmail and I'm updating my blog. Pretty soon I'm going to move across the room to the other couch for a power nap. Then we might finish up the evening with some more peanut butter and dark chocolate peppermint cups while listening to Macy Gray and the Black Eyed Peas and doing laundry.

Ben just announced he's now so comfortable with Erin here he can fart in her presence. And did.

This is true visiting.

Eighteen Today!

2010-09-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

2010-09-15T19:09:00.000-07:00

I have a friend I do tea with a couple times a week. We do Chai Tea.
Except she's dyslexic. So we do Tai Chea instead.

It's about as close as I'll ever get to marital arts.

A slice of our lives...

2010-09-13T19:20:00.000-07:00

A Request
From: Michael Abercrombie (jos7eph@hotmail.com)
Sent: September 13, 2010 2:57:23 PM
To: adogwoman@hotmail.com

Dear Lori,
Ben is interested in going to church if he helps with teaching Sunday School and if I take him with someone "cool" to lunch at Wendys most of the time.
This Tuesday from 7:30 to 9:00 pm M, the new Sunday School Coordinator would like to meet with Ben and a few other people who are interested in teaching.
M. has no place to meet and G&E's house is not ready yet. Is there any chance we could meet in our living room? There will likely be a few practises you find objectionable and may cause you, if you agree, to have to flee to a friend's house.
What do you think?
Thanks for your consideration,
Mike

RE: A Request‏
From: Lori Abercrombie (adogwoman@hotmail.com)
Sent: September 13, 2010 3:05:32 PM
To: jos7eph@hotmail.com

Dear Mike,

By all means. I'll be hosting a seance the same evening in the downstairs tv room.
Lori

Appearances

2010-08-17T07:25:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like an honest piece of writing about things most people will not say.

'I have loved people. I have lost them. I went mad when that blow struck me, because it is hell. But there was no witness to my madness, my frenzy was not evident: only my innermost being was mad. Sometimes I became enraged. People would say to me, Why are you so calm? But I was scorched from head to foot; at night I would run through the streets and howl; during the day I would work calmly….'

Maurice Blanchot

2010-08-16T14:50:00.001-07:00

I'm spending too much time alone these days. Last night I was cooking some shish kebobs under the broiler. As I walked to the oven to turn the heat down, the LED broiler light was flashing HI - and for a quick moment I thought it was greeting me...

2010-08-14T07:42:00.000-07:00

There's a lady here in Mission - if you've lived here long enough, you might even know who I'm talking about. She's one of those fixture people in small towns, the resident crazy, un-missable if you pay attention. I've seen her in all sorts of places; a middle aged woman, with a permanently frantic look, long salt & pepper hair streaming behind her on her bike. Or in the grocery store, her socks bulging with personal items she carries wherever she goes. Or sometimes walking, deep in conversation with herself. I'm sure she has a name. I'm not sure if anyone knows it though, she's always alone.

I watched her in Superstore not too long ago in the aisle next me - distressed, counting and recounting her coins to pay for her groceries. The clerk and the other shoppers shifted in frustration as she repeated the process several times. I think I may have been the only one looking on in empathy. Though I can't presume upon all her internal chaos, I understand what it is to be caught in the grip of an ocd cycle, illogically doing something over and over. To be trying desperately to get something 'right' when it feels all 'wrong.' The world has little patience or understanding of such insensibilities...

I saw her at Superstore again this week. She was sitting outside on the curb, writing in a notebook. The same morning, I'd read a wonderful quote, 'I will write myself in to well being.' I had a flash of wanting to excitedly engage with her & ask, 'Are you writing yourself in to well being?! So am I!' but I'm pretty sure she would have thought i was crazy. So I hurried to my car and left the nameless woman sitting alone on the curb with her notebook.

***

My 15 year daughter headed off to summer camp yesterday with her 2 best friends. The week has been a flurry of preparations and excited late nite phone calls about wardrobe and supplies. Wednesday we made the annual traditional supply run to the mall, 3 girls in giddy high spirits about their upcoming adventure. They bought matching necklaces, pretty silver chained crystal pendants, declaring their loyalty and friendship to one another. It's a girl thing - the last wonderful precursor to the next stage of life - one they all hope holds the promise of a new and different kind of love.

***

The 19 year old daughter of a close friend is getting married today and omgosh, she's soooooo in love. I've known her since she was less than a year old. She's over the moon with the idea of a glorious white wedding and dreams of rosy future - the way only a 19 year old can be. I guess I should be rejoicing for her, but instead I'm afraid she'll find married life quite unlike she's imagined. Romantic notions are such unruly, ungrounded things.

***

Yesterday as I was driving, a new remix of an old Doobie Brothers song, 'Without Love (where would ya be right now?)'came on the radio. The kids all sang along enthusiastically, the same way I did when I was 15. It's an interesting song about trains, life and love, sometimes rolling over us, sometimes taking us places. It kinda feels like that, doesn't it.

I couldn't help but think how little we understand about love, all love. How much unrealistic hope we put in it, how dependent we are on it's quality and consistency over our entire lives, and yet how paradoxically flounderous we are in the giving & receiving of it.

It's a sad thing when community services are replacements for loving families. When counselors are replacements for caring friends, and when marriages are replacements for knowing & loving ourselves.

Without love, where would we be now?
Perhaps sitting alone on the curb, writing in a notebook...

The Million $ Question

2010-08-07T19:10:00.000-07:00

...Will Mike get across the border tonight to catch his flight to Thailand...???

Most interesting...

2010-07-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

Here's some superfluous information to start your Thursday.

So I was checking online for a dictionary definition of 'superfluous' (don't you love that word? I love that word.) yesterday and came across a most interesting thing. A few entries under the dictionary definition for 'superfluous' was a site called 'The Superfluous Nipple'. Which of course, tweaked my curiosity. What in the world might a superfluous nipple be? Check this out - this is a superfluous nipple on the bottom of someone's foot. A misplaced extra.

There's even support groups for people with 'Triple Nipples', celebrating their extra devices. Carrie Underwood, Zac Efron, Eva Longoria's husband & Lily Allen all reportedly have (or have had) them.

Strange, eh? Imagine - a superfluous nipple on the bottom of a foot could introduce a whole new realm of interest & enjoyment (?) for those with foot fetishes...

Discovering new things is always so surprising.

On Beige Cows

2010-07-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

I read Dostoevsky's 'Notes from Underground' last night, and omgosh, it was exactly like having a conversation with any person in my family. (Richard, read it! It's exactly like dad!) Conflicted, observant, reality seeking, questioning, laughing at the absurdity of themselves & the world, hoping for but rarely finding meaning... Is it any wonder we're all crazy?

I've haven't read much philosophy so far, but to find people who actually consider the world beyond the narrow realms of common thought is so...comforting. Enlarging. Inspiring.

When my kids went to school in Hatzic, everyday I passed the monastery in Mission, and everyday I'd look up to the pastures to where the cows were. The monastery keeps cows, lovely beige cows with silky mottled coats. (Ever notice when you see something often enough, it becomes so familiar it's almost like you own it?) I watched these cows over a long time, entertaining myself with thoughts of, 'I wonder if cows have a social structure, what is it, & is there indeed a head cow?

One day I discovered the cows weren't in their place in the pasture. Down the hill, along the road was a barbed wire fence, next to the ditch. Forty cows were lined up by the fence, stuck, not knowing whether to go forward or backward, whether to turn, or how exactly to get themselves out of their predicament, if they even realized they were in one, at all. Indeed there was a head cow, and it led 39 others into entrapment.

How like the world...

And being on the topic of cows has just reminded me that i have a beef about the whole idea of not thinking. I'm sure I fall into the category of those who think too much, but too not think at all? to follow without question? to never explore beyond yourself? - what a total waste of a mind.

Someone commented this week, having broadened their intellectual pursuits beyond the bible and McCleans magazine to a fictional novel, 'My gosh, reading really makes you think!' I looked at them sideways and didn't comment. I can't help but think it's utterly arrogant to not read, a way of asserting that the ideas already in your own head are the only ones that matter...

***

Anyways, all this talk of beige cows has got me thinking about cooking steak for dinner tonite.
Bon Appetite!

2010-07-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

'People often say that this or that person has not yet found him or herself. But the self is not something that one finds. It is something one creates.'

Thomas Szasz

2010-07-19T07:10:00.000-07:00

Three Quotes I'm Thinking On Today...

2010-07-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

'It isn't easy to find happiness in ourselves, but it isn't possible to find it elsewhere.'
Agnes Repplier

'I was always afraid to take, so I gave. It was not a virtue, it was a disguise.'
Anais Nin

'The only kind of courage that matters is the kind that gets you from one moment, to the next.'
Mignon Mclauglin

Latest painting...

2010-07-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

2010-07-11T15:34:00.000-07:00

I was digging through a closet this week and came across a dog eared, yellowed collection of some of the poems I'd written as a teenager. I found them on the heels of thinking about Emily Dickinson and her 1800 hidden poems that were found after she died. When my own mom died, I uncovered a collection of hundreds of poems she'd written too. While I'm no Emily Dickinson, or my mom - I always appreciate when other people throw their stuff out there. And so...coming out of the closet, literally...

(hah, poetic works.)

***

Morning

Where roses are turning from black in to white,
Where the sky is unmasked by the filtering light.
Where peace draws a blanket of soft silent grey,
The night clings in vain as it's stolen away.

The morning song rings cross the vast purple skies,
The night meets the mountain and wistfully dies.
The sun pours a goblet of pink velvet dawn,
The moon drops a curtsy farewell and is gone.

***

Memories

Echoes whisper softly, many tales are left untold,
Tomorrow in the mist yet somehow yearning to unfold.
The past still etching pictures, leaving images to mind,
Memories fading in the distance, left regretfully behind.

***

Freedom

Absorbed in the wondrous elation of life,
Unsponsored and free as the skies!
Life dances lightly on edges of time,
With boisterous devotion, spontaneous cries!

***

Faith

In the study of perfection of the human mind and soul
The breed and bone of all of us is not what makes us whole.
The ignorance that breeds with every chance that may occur
Rivals with our certitude and makes us so unsure.

The darkness that evades us is but fear in it's disguise
The faith that lingers in our hearts, the fear can not defy.
With every thought of ignorance, resistance battles stronger.
The darkness loathes the sunlight for it lingers moments longer.

And every ebbing battle that our faith attempts to smother
Can victor over ignorance if we're true to one another.

***

The First Verse

God bless the children, the babes of this land
Suffer them not for the trials of man
Offer them kindness and love in their youth
Let innocence blossom in beauty and truth

Watch as they're growing and guide them away
From all that persuades them to wander astray
Shelter their thoughts, make their days ever bright
Cradle them gently to sleep with the night

And like the sun, keep them happy and warm
Shine in their hearts when their eyes see the storm
Stay by their sides as the years follow after
A childhood fulfilled by your love and their laughter.

***

War

In this world that's so miserably black with contempt
Where hatred erodes us and peace is exempt
Can man be so blind that he heeds not the warning?
And mindlessly battles in joy, not in mourning?

Will man ever learn from this fatal mistake?
How many more wars can humanity take?
Are we blind to the light, just refusing to see?
Or is war all a part of our right to be free?

Patriotism, the pride in our birth
But what do we gain, what's it all really worth?
Origin claims us upon the first breath
To ancestry's handed the rights to our death.

Each man is prisoner, and can not resist
The will of his country, if such should exist.
Each man of his mind has not reason to hate
But the call of command makes us pawns of the state.

This futile ploy's but a struggle for power
Where love for our brothers turns molted and sour.
'United We Stand!' but the evils resided
How in God's name was the family divided?

***

The Nightbird

The empty echoing of the dark
The shadows etched in black.
The nightbird's hollow screaming
Where no road can lead you back.

The smothering quenchless, growing fear
Delirium of the mind.
The dull and aching throbbing
Where a dark kiss leaves you blind.

The traces of existence
In a space in time suspended.
Revealing tales left best untold
That now can not be ended

A pendant moon upon a chain
A writhing somber breath
The nightbirds screaming once again
You enter in to death.

***

Insanity

The mind gives way
As darkness preys
Upon the fragile thread
The futile call
Shall mark the fall
Reality is dead.

Neglected need
Left free to breed
To grow untamed and wild
Will maim and kill
The broken will
Of some defeated child.

The dull retreat
Toward defeat
Beyond the black unknown
Shall soon succeed
Against the need
And reign supreme alone.

The surge of black
No road leads back
The gate is barred and sealed
She can not tell
Of silent hell
Where terror is revealed.

Beyond control
The poisoned soul
One final stricken cry
The real world
With fate's been hurled
Kiss sanity good bye.

***

Oh to be 17 again. Not.

How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation...

2010-07-11T14:22:00.000-07:00

2010-07-07T09:56:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this awesome poem by American poet Emily Dickinson this morning - and knowing little about her, had to google her story.

I love stories where incredibly gifted people, mostly shunned by society for their oddities, in private are creating great works of art or literature. When Emily died at 56 in the late 1800's, she'd had published a dozen poems, most of which were heavily edited to suit the style of the time. After her death, her sister uncovered another 1800 poems that Emily had written in the course of her life. It wasn't until 1955, almost 75 years after her death, she became recognized as a poet.

Amazing. Doesn't it just make you wonder what in the world is wrong with the world when we overlook what's right in front of our faces?

A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon --
A depth -- an Azure -- a perfume --
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see --

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle -- shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me --

The wizard fingers never rest --
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed --

Still rears the East her amber Flag --
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red --

So looking on -- the night -- the morn
Conclude the wonder gay --
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!
Emily Dickinson

Today is such a summer's day as this.

Today

2010-07-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

Thinking about, been reading about some compelling voices from the past. Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Raphael, Botticelli, Savonarola, Van Gogh, Degas, Neitzche, Mozart, Pachabel, Shakespeare...

And playing with rhyming words, gradients and text warps.

The Story of Grasper

2010-07-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from Grasper: A Young Crab’s Discovery by Owen Paul Lewis. A story about freedom, growth and hopefulness. A crab comes out of his shell, travels beyond his small, comfortable world, and brings back an inspirational message of possibility and courage to his fellow crabs who remained in the old tidepool...

“What are you looking at?” asked the huge crab.

“You! You are so s…so big!” stuttered Grasper.

“Of course I am!” boomed the giant. “And you will be too, after you’ve molted as many times as i have.”

“Me … as big as you?” cried Grapser. “But how? Where i come from … under the rocks … there are other crabs who’ve molted many times – but they haven’t grown larger.”

“Do they ever leave these rocks of yours?” he asked.

“No, they are afraid to,” replied Grasper.

“Well, then of course!” said the crab. “Everyone knows a crab will only grow as large as the world he lives in, and as big as the heart inside him. You must have a big heart to live in a big world.”

If You Have to Be Sure, Don't...

2010-07-03T05:09:00.000-07:00

So the US has a new Poet Laureate, WS Merwin. I'd never heard of a Poet Laureate til this morning, or WS Merwin for that matter. But he's a two time Pulitzer Prize winner, which I suppose in the literary world, is something fairly significant.

It's sounds so deliciously medieval, doesn't it? Poet Laureate... It basically means giving occasional appearances to promote the importance of poetry. I think it's a shame that writing, like most of the arts, is confined almost within a subculture. We all went to school, writing, creating, discovering...why does the fun stop just because we grow up? WS Merwin is 82 and just now doing his most recognized work.

There's something very tremulous and vulnerable about creating something. Maybe if you do it often enough, that sense diminishes, but I think the question, 'is this really any good?' is the shared insecurity of people who try. I have a half finished painting sitting on my kitchen counter that is literally freaking me out. It seems crazy to care so much about something that will only ever probably adorn a dark closet in my house, but I do. I like this WS Merwin poem - it addresses that question, too.

“I had hardly begun to read

I asked how can you ever be sure

that what you write is really

any good at all and he said you can’t

you can’t you can never be sure

you die without knowing

whether anything you wrote was any good

if you have to be sure don’t write”

If you have to be sure, don't write, don't paint, don't sing, don't dance...
What a wasteland the world would be if not for the brave souls, willing to not be sure.

2010-07-01T15:21:00.001-07:00

There's nothing quite as intimidating as a l-a-r-g-e new blank canvas when the last one didn't turn out. Reading about old and new masters, while inspiring, is daunting too.

I'm emboldening myself with a glass of iced sparkling raspberry wine and Pachelbel's Canon in D major. Which incidentally was the song my dad walked me down the aisle to 23 years ago. Ahh, sweet memories.

I'm growing quite the dollar store collection of classical music. It's almost impossible to paint to Little Wayne. I've made a new friend at the dollar store dropping in & out frequently for canvases and music. A clerk who shares wild stories of surviving heart attacks, MS, eczema and 4 children. Today she told me the secret to life is in the BAG. Beginning Anew, Accepting What Is and Going For It. One day soon, I'm going to invite her over to my house.

So, here's to beginning anew. Happy Canada Day.

Birthday Boys!

2010-07-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

Sam, July 1st 1988, Josh, June 25th 1990.
My heart is full. So proud of them.

Maggots!

2010-06-30T09:44:00.000-07:00

Eeeek! Hyperventilating!

I just picked up my kitchen garbage can to find a literal invasion of sliming, pulsating maggots! I can only remember one worse maggot invasion - in the summer of 1989 when I went away for a week and absentmindedly left a flat of tomatoes enclosed in the dark of my kitchen cabinet.

I'll never forget being alerted to them by the faint buzz of trapped juvenile flies - and my horror as I pulled open the cupboard door, greeted by a swarm in my face...And then pulling out the wet, moving flat, as the bottom disintegrated into my crouched lap... Oooo, the stuff of nightmares...

I dumped a half bottle of bleach on this morning's invasion hoping to stop their advance for refuge under the fridge to no avail. O god - I had to step on them all - and as i flung the maggot caked paper towel across the back deck into the fire pit, a remnant few flailed back at me. And I'd just showered!

Oooo, what is it about a simple larvae that can reduce a grown woman to utter terror?

Sage Advice from 'Shit My Dad Says'

2010-06-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

"Don’t focus on the one guy who hates you. You don’t go to the park and set your picnic down next to the only pile of dog shit."

The best thing about this site is reading it to Mike, who runs from the room offended, his hands covering his ears to protect his purity.

Not, mind you, that I'd ever do that...

Florence!

2010-06-25T07:25:00.000-07:00

Where else in the world can you sit on the roadside and copy great works of art onto the pavement?

Omg, I have to get here. This is a great photoblog of Florence.

About Town

2010-06-24T13:35:00.000-07:00

I was driving home the other day, as usual contemplating the deep heroic questions of life from behind the wheel. I have a few I play with regularly, like, 'what is happiness?' or 'what is purpose?, or 'geez, my thighs look big!', or 'where do i fit in, in life?' or 'omg! do i have cancer?' when I noticed a girl, sashaying up the street.

I'm not kidding that she was sashaying. She was a pleasantly handicapped looking girl in a psychedelic blue dress, ankle socks and rubber thongs. She was probably in the neighborhood of 300 pounds on a 5'5 frame, the kind of weight where every piece moves of it's own accord. And she was dancing as she walked to bus stop.

The day was glorious, the sun had finally burst through layers of oppressive cloud. The last few flowering spring trees and bushes were finishing up their thing. And when I opened my window, as if like magic, I could hear an orchestra of birds. A symphony of singing, squawking, whistling and cawing. I looked again at the dancing girl. I think she may have heard them too.

As I was watching her disappear in my rear view mirror, two young men walking purposefully, in stiff white shirts, black dress pants, & carrying briefcases & bibles crossed in front of me. They looked like they were in a hurry, religious fervor stretched across their tight, serious faces. Sadly, I somehow doubt they heard the orchestra of birds.

***

Early yesterday morning, I was down at Superstore. It was about a 33.3% morning for me. In fairness, I'd run out of coffee, the discount bread rack was low, and I was back to wrestling with my favorite deep thoughts. As I was packing my groceries, the clerk asked benignly of the person behind me, 'How are you doing?'

'100%!' a voice replied loudly & enthusiastically. I turned to have a look at who might be doing so well. Gosh, she didn't look 100%. She was a small wizened woman of at least 70, in very mismatched summer clothing, a men's fishing cap over her unruly hair, buying a club pack of sliced ham. She grinned broadly at me as she doled out her coins with bent arthritic fingers. I grinned back. I couldn't help it.

***

Last night a close friend called me from the Psych Ward, she's been committed at least 20 times in the past 35 years. She was in high spirits, having escaped the eagle eyed nursing staff, and hiding out using a private line in an unlocked Doctor's office. She wove run on tales of hilarity about other patients, hobos she'd shared smokes with out by the garbage bin and made keen observations of herself and the medical establishment. She told me they'd had her watch a documentary of sad manic/depressive patients, reflecting on the seriousness of their illness. 'What the hell?!' she commented on their glumness. 'I have the time of my life when I'm manic!'

Why not? If you have to live crazy - you may as well enjoy it.

***

Summer thought #5: Remember to look for the symphony amidst the cacophony.
Sometimes you can actually see the music.

When The Angle Isn't Quite Right...

2010-06-23T06:30:00.000-07:00

From EverFunPoint

A Visual of This Week's Inner World

2010-06-20T09:05:00.000-07:00

On Muchness

2010-06-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

I watched Alice in Wonderland last night. My son and a close friend critiqued, 'It's weird, I didn't like it, but you probably will.' Ha. And I did.

In this version, Alice has returned to Underland (not Wonderland) as a young woman, having been before as a girl. The Mad Hatter (the crazies always say the smartest things) tells Alice that she's no longer like herself.

'You were much more muchier...(then) You've lost your muchness."

***

Summer thought #4: Never lose your muchness.

The Almost First Day of Summer

2010-06-19T07:32:00.000-07:00

Do you remember as a kid, the wildly intoxicating first day of summer? Every day stretching out like an open highway, calling freedom?

I remember the promise of family vacation, the annual PNE trip, the ice cream man, the chlorined splashing at the public pool, Harrison Lake trips, the cool library on long hot afternoons, our unfinished basement where we escaped into otherworlds of dress up and imagination, the hideout under the back stairs where we formed clubs, neighborhood alliances and plotted espionage tactics, the bicycle club, kick the can in the dark...

All those heady thrills of childhood so far removed from where I sit today at the first day of summer... Man, growing up can really mess with life's simple joys, can't it?

I've been battling a growing sense of dread for weeks at the arrival of summer, it happens every year. My internal balance is inevitably challenged with the change in routine, the increase in stimulation & the heat. Summer no longer calls freedom to me, it whispers dark hauntings of not coping, of being overwhelmed, of a choked inner world.

How in the world did this exchange in perspective on summer happen without my consent or even awareness?

***

So this year, I'm rewriting my summer manifesto. I'm honestly not sure where to begin, so I guess that means just beginning in spite of. Today I'm thinking of a few things:

- order is a short lived illusion
- imagination, creating something & new paths of thought are wildly satisfyingly
- and, a decent nights sleep is often the difference between hope and chaos.

That's enough for Day 1, I think. I'm off to find some berries and hit the library...

2010-06-19T06:45:00.000-07:00

This is a painting by Pino - the painting that first inspired me to pick up a brush. I have a very bad replica of this girl sitting in my dining room on an easel. Pino's an Italian artist whose influence was Pre-Raphael, Macchiaioli and Impressionism. (wow, I feel artsy saying that - not that I have much idea who Raphael and the are Macchiaoli yet, but i will.)

He's my absolute fav - and damn, he just died at 71 on May 25th. I've been trying to find him online for months, but thought his name Piso. I love the soft, romanticized quality of his work. It's exactly how I want to paint. I'm very near to dropping $95 for his art book - right out of my grocery money. Art or bread? No question there...

I'm also discovering I like painting waaaaaay better than scritch scratching a pencil across a page. The broad strokes of colour & emotion far surpass my love of graphite and eraser bits...although I have clipped a black & white pencil drawing of a gritty old man, that's captured my imagination too.

And these are the next two I'm going to try...

Love the Way You Lie

2010-06-18T06:44:00.000-07:00

Love him or hate him, over the years, Eminem has made some incredible observations about the darker side of human nature. Personally, I applaud his insightful manic poetry and lyrical contradictions of himself. I've often found echoes of things I feel in his music.

He has a new album being released on June 22, called Recovery. My daughter was playing a track, 'Love the Way You Lie' yesterday. It's a joint project of Rhianna & Eminem's. Lest that put you off, I can say, it's one of the best statements on domestic violence, codependent relationships and the twisted thread that holds them together that I've ever heard.

Sometimes music says things the way nothing else can.

I've linked to it below, but the quality's not great since it's a pre release.

In Case You're Into It...

2010-06-17T20:51:00.000-07:00

This is a really great free site for pencil portrait tutorials - and I've watched tons in the past couple weeks. These are sent every couple days directly to your email, so it's not overwhelming. The artist/teacher, Darrel Tank is clear, concise and builds from the basics. Incredibly thorough.

I've just discovered I'm doing everything wrong.
Ignorance was bliss.

Free video tutorials for 5-pencil drawing method core

2010-06-17T15:55:00.000-07:00

The original I copied from was much better, but I still can't believe I can do this...
So much fun.

Old Dog, New Tricks

2010-06-17T07:15:00.000-07:00

Eye know these aren't the most fantastic I's ever drawn, but I'm amazed at 50 to find i can even draw at all...

The Languages We Speak

2010-06-16T18:31:00.000-07:00

'One maiden spoke in toads,
another in pearls,
and a third with the nightingale's voice.
If you ask me,
I would have to say
all the world's magic
comes directly from the mouth.'

(from "Once Upon A Time," She Said)

2010-06-14T05:24:00.000-07:00

I've read 2 books on philosophy these past few weeks, different authors, both entirely different. One I loved, it sang with word pictures and clarity. The second I plowed painfully through, trying to decipher what in the world concept the writer was aiming to relate. The ideas were tangled in pretentious words that reminded me of a spool of thread I once saw wound chaotically through a pile of dirty laundry.

So now being an expert, have formed my forever and always opinion based on almost nothing...

I despise bullshit 'academia' language.

2010-06-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

2010-06-12T16:04:00.000-07:00

The house next door to mine is for sale again. It belongs to an East Indian family, who over their 20 years on this cul de sac, have enriched my life in more ways than I can count.

When we moved here from Vancouver in 1990, we had two small boys, the first two years old and the second just born. Only three of the eight building lots on the cul de sac had houses on them, the house that now sits next door, still an empty landscape of imagination.

They'd just finished digging the foundation for my friend's home, and beside our front porch, on the day we moved in, was a gigantic pyramid shaped mountain of dirt and debris. My two year son from the back seat of the car began yelling excitedly, 'CASTLE! CASTLE!'. I was delighted, thinking he somehow intuitively had absorbed my thrill of my first home being a castle. Instead, he ran from the car straight into the mountain of dirt, having found his own castle in the new neighborhood.

That castle soon became a red brick and vibrant cerulean blue East Indian style castle home, complete with the new owner's initials proudly announcing themselves in red brick on the front facade of the house. On the day they moved in, three carloads of people arrived with them, laughing and enthusiastically speaking Punjabi with each other. The youngest son in their family, maybe a year and half at the time, a tiny beany haired thing, raced straight into my house, leaving his family to themselves. His mom came running to fetch him, not speaking a word of English but able to clearly communicate both her pride and amusement at the antics of her firstborn son.

Over the years, our lives have intertwined, sometimes in person and sometimes by me simply observing their comings and goings through my kitchen window. The story of their lives has unfolded before me. From the ancient grandfather who sat outside in the garden on his commode, the father who chased wild eyed neighborhood boys out of his house flinging a bejeweled shoe, through births and deaths, weddings, new washing machine celebrations, dancing parties, visiting relatives from India, basketball games and shared chai teas and roti.

For all the bad rap thrown at the East Indian culture, I've witnessed family connection and warmth that greatly surpasses that of our private & isolated western ways.

Today, my youngest son rushed in announcing that tragedy had struck the family next door once again. Less than 7 years ago, my neighbor friend, one of three sisters, lost her youngest sister in a massive car accident. I met Cally and her remaining sister on the front lawn, they both hugged me, in broken English, sobbing, 'my very nice sister! my very nice sister!' Today, the sister who stood with Cally on the lawn that day died also.

Her 18 year old son, when he found her, grabbed her hand, sobbing, 'No mom! You're not dead!' and before fleeing from the room, put his fist deep into the drywall, leaving a hole I can only imagine must feel the same in his heart.

I'm looking across now at the house, shades drawn, knowing I need to cross that great chasm of sadness and stop in. But I'm afraid of their grief and tears.

I'm so tired of the inescapability of death. The way it ravages from us the ones we love. Sometimes I tell myself I'm crazy for living in such fear of it - but even more insane is to not. We live, we love in a temporary world. And somehow within it, must learn tolerance of uncertainty and loss or we'll surely lose our minds. I simply can't live without a hope of another world, where the ones we've loved and lost are more than just phantom voices...

I'm taking the paltry pasta salad dish I made for my family's dinner, over for theirs now, little good it will do.

What in the world can i possibly give or do that might convey my understanding of what has struck them once again?

Saturday Morning

2010-06-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

O the sun! The sun!

It never ceases to amaze me how light can be so lifting. I just hate it when it rains like it has. The world goes flat and monotone, melancholy dripping off every living thing, stifling dampness in every breath I take...

I woke up this morning in my room, my room that isn't white. It's a colour called Orchid Bloom. Like the inner curve of an orchid where colour blushes up in to the petals. The undertone is blue with a hint of red and when the sun hits it, it becomes lit from within, like I imagine a halo might be. O my, and I can breathe again.

I've been reading Irving Stone's, Lust for Life all week. I can't read a book without absorbing the spirit of it, and Van Gogh in his impassioned artistic fervour was also crazy. But completely rationally crazy, to me. Caught between the line of this world of gravel & dust and the other world of air, wind, colour & the creative spirit. Exquisitely beautiful but also deadly. Van Gogh said of himself,

“I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process."

That is the very problem of this place. It's so near the fire, it's almost impossible to not burn with it.

***

I've also learned this week, it's almost impossible to paint well without being able to draw well. I've been racked in frustration trying to paint my daughter in her prom gown. As hard as I've tried, I haven't been able to get beyond producing something that looks like a painted cartoon.

It's strange when concepts make themselves known. A good painting begins with a good drawing - lack of foundation equals simplicity. It takes layers of light and shadow to create a realistic facial curve - but it takes also understanding and observation of anatomy to get it right. And you can't get it right if you emphasis your bone in the wrong quadrant, or inadvertently shadow a triangle that should be a square. It's friggin geometry.

So now, instead of flinging colour, I'm focusing on learning the basics of drawing. I've cleared away my paints, bought a sketch pad, and spend hours trying to copy, what at first glance, seem like simple lines. But art is not simple, at it's foundation is math. My gosh, can I ever get away from math...?

***

One last thought on my friend, Vincent - as portrayed through my friend Irving...

Van Gogh, at his very centre, was a kind man, finding love, beauty and acceptance among struggling miners, sad prostitutes, lost artists & beloved family. He was misunderstood, ridiculed by most and driven wild by his passion. And yet these insightful words, lay the foundation for his life and work:

'I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

O starry, starry night.

2010-06-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

This week, I drove my son and two neighborhood brothers to the pool.

These boys are the resourceful kind who will dismantle your fence to use the slats as a ramp for their off road remote control vehicles, or will scale the newly shingled roof of your house simply because they suddenly noticed it, or accidently shift your van out of park, roll it backwards into the neighbor's chain link fence and while sitting in the driver's seat, appear innocently surprised when asked how it happened. The very illogically logical boyness of them is both comical on a good day & difficult on a not so good one.

But it was a good day - the day they tumbled in to my car, all hair, pubescent energy and stories.

'I ate 28 cotton candies at the hardware store open house Sunday!' the younger one proudly annouced.

I'm always looking for a laugh and good story so egged him on. '28 cotton candies?! How long were you there for?' I exclaimed.

Encouraged, he continued, 'All day! From 10-4!'

'Wow!' I responded, trying hard to drive & figure out the math division problem at the same time. 'So, you ate 4 and half cotton candies every hour?'

He thought briefly and corrected himself, 'No, I didn't start til noon, so I ate 7 cotton candies every hour!'

And then concluded somewhat introspectively, 'Ya, I guess that's why I got that bad headache!'

***

Life's little insights come in all flavours, sometimes as finely spun as 28 cotton candies...