Holiday season has been an interesting one so far. We've cut way back on the gifts to everyone and I've spaced on getting 1/2 my cards out - will have to add a happy new year to make them relevant. I found an unlabeled VHS tape of a book launch in the basement that I've transfered to digital and have been editing to DVD, actually fairly emotional stuff. So much so that when Majel Roddenberry died I fell to weepy tears. It's weird, I never met her, didn't know her - but feel like I lost a distant and feisty aunt. So it goes.
Christmas eve I was out and about. Dinner was subs with the boy and two lost episode which conclude the Vicar of Dibley series.
Christmas yesterday with Toronto family was very nice, got to visit Kelly's cats a little too. Olive trilled and Dante expressed irritation that someone (not me, oh no) was in his chair. All was made better with an offering of turkey. Got spoiled rotten - sister in law makes soap. MMmmmmmmMMMmmmmmm nice soap.
Today we go off to visit the outlaws, my side of the family. At my brothers we visit with his kids and now one grand kid (my brother is 43 and a grand dad. It's wild), his wife and him and our mom. I haven't met the grand child yet, just seen pictures and am so excited. I think he's my grand nephew is how that works...so confusing. My nephew is in from out west and I haven't seen him in years. I managed to get my mom something I know she'll want this year - book on Secretariat - and am looking forward to watching her open that gift. Then we head out to visit my aunts and grandmother and cousins at what the fabulous husband refers to as the Aunt Farm. I have some shoes for one aunt I hope fit.
(later)
Visit with the outlaws was a blast, but now I smell like an ashtray. Love them all dearly but DAMN if you're sitting next two four pack a day smokers and you don't smoke? Totally noticeable. And with the hugging? The love overcomes the recoil, but now I need a shower. The grand nephew was 12 kinds of adorable, as was my niece and her cousins, pretty much everyone was there. A visit later at the aunt farm found no owner for the shoes but saddled me with some clothes to distribute down in the city. Grandma revealed a little of the family history project she's been working on since dirt was a new and exciting trend, and I volunteered to go help her with it in the spring. Some of the journals are from the lat 1700's and up, all look bloody interesting. Car ride home was festive: road salt, no wipers and a 20 year old car pitted against fabulous husband being a fabulous driver - he won, we're home and good night. :-)
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
TYPE ONLY 1 WORD.
IT'S HARDER THAN YOU THINK ! ! !
1. Where is your cell phone? gone
2. Your significant other? funny
3. Your hair? dyed
4. Your father? entertaining
5. Your favorite thing? life
6. Your dream/goal? published
7. The room you're in now? messy
8. Your fear? failure
9. Where do you want to be in 6 years? content
10. Where were you last night? home
11. What you're not? tall
12. Muffins? yes!
13. One of your wish list items? laptop
14. Where you grew up? good
15. The last thing you did? typed
16. What are you wearing? casual
17. Your TV? nice
18. Your pet? cuddly
19. Your computer? Pretty
20. Your life? interesting
21. Your mood? anxious
22. Missing someone? yes
23. Your car? old
24. Something you're not wearing? shoes
25. Favorite Store? Thrift
26. Your summer? missed
27. Your favorite color? all
28. When is the last time you laughed? today
29. Last time you cried? yesterday
IT'S HARDER THAN YOU THINK ! ! !
1. Where is your cell phone? gone
2. Your significant other? funny
3. Your hair? dyed
4. Your father? entertaining
5. Your favorite thing? life
6. Your dream/goal? published
7. The room you're in now? messy
8. Your fear? failure
9. Where do you want to be in 6 years? content
10. Where were you last night? home
11. What you're not? tall
12. Muffins? yes!
13. One of your wish list items? laptop
14. Where you grew up? good
15. The last thing you did? typed
16. What are you wearing? casual
17. Your TV? nice
18. Your pet? cuddly
19. Your computer? Pretty
20. Your life? interesting
21. Your mood? anxious
22. Missing someone? yes
23. Your car? old
24. Something you're not wearing? shoes
25. Favorite Store? Thrift
26. Your summer? missed
27. Your favorite color? all
28. When is the last time you laughed? today
29. Last time you cried? yesterday
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Friday, November 07, 2008
While my NaNoWriMo isn't going so well, it's still kind of satisfying to have finally completed the 3 Day Novel in Sept. I know, it's two months old, but it still makes me happy. Although results won't be announced until January (when all entrants will receive the coveted completion sticker - yes I'm throwing a party when I get mine) I did just get emailed some entertaining statistics. And here they are:
Final stats:
570 registrants / 428 manuscripts submitted (about 75% submitting)
Global regions participating:
Canada: 340 registrants
U.S.A.: 212 registrants
Other: 16 registrants (including Australia, Israel, Italy, New Zealand, Norway, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Sweden, Trinidad
and the U.K.)
Concentrations:
Vancouver: 109 registrants (26% of all registrants from B.C.)
Toronto: 49 registrants (21% of all registrants from Ontario)
Edmonton and Calgary: 12 registrants each
States with 10 or more registrants: New York, Pennsilvania, Michigan, Illinois, Texas, California, Oregon, Washington
Which means that 48 other people were coming completely unglued in Toronto over the labor day weekend. If we could harness that energy I'll be we could burn some toast.
Right....back to the NaNo...how believable is an alcoholic vampire anyway?
Final stats:
570 registrants / 428 manuscripts submitted (about 75% submitting)
Global regions participating:
Canada: 340 registrants
U.S.A.: 212 registrants
Other: 16 registrants (including Australia, Israel, Italy, New Zealand, Norway, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Sweden, Trinidad
and the U.K.)
Concentrations:
Vancouver: 109 registrants (26% of all registrants from B.C.)
Toronto: 49 registrants (21% of all registrants from Ontario)
Edmonton and Calgary: 12 registrants each
States with 10 or more registrants: New York, Pennsilvania, Michigan, Illinois, Texas, California, Oregon, Washington
Which means that 48 other people were coming completely unglued in Toronto over the labor day weekend. If we could harness that energy I'll be we could burn some toast.
Right....back to the NaNo...how believable is an alcoholic vampire anyway?
Thursday, November 06, 2008
It's been a week of fabulous upset and emotion. The US had a successful election complete with gracious concession and inspiring acceptance speeches. I was on my feet in amazement and delight. It was a point of breathing history where I was grateful to be alive, as electric as when the Ontario Court of Appeal had overturned a ruling and allowed same sex marriage back in 2003. I remember the chaos and unbridled joy of that time, and 11pm on November 4th felt just the same.
Then a few other things got passed that were less pleasing. California, which had previously allowed same sex marriages passed Proposition 8. Now they define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, end of sentence. This is crap. I've had the privilege of conducting hundreds of weddings for Americans over the past few years here in Ontario. And the only difference I've found between same sex and opposite sex unions are that the same sex couples have a slightly higher - but not much - percentage of parents being jerks, and it's much harder to find tasteful cake toppers. That, and because more of the same sex couples had been together for 10, 25, 40 years already I felt they brought something unique and special to the institution and adventure which follows a wedding that does not diminish another's marriage. The millage and fortitude they bring strengthen the whole thing.
And Arkansas move to prevent same sex couples from adopting? Oi. The saddest part there is the waiting adoptable children are denied potentially loving, capable families. And in 10 to 20 years society as a whole is denied a potentially stable, secure adult.
But baby steps. All in all it's a glorious week. All in all it's a fabulous thing. We'll deal with what we can, be grateful for what's in front of us, and never mind what might have been or should be. I see the shadow most clearly, but I'm going to spend a bit more time looking at the light.
Then a few other things got passed that were less pleasing. California, which had previously allowed same sex marriages passed Proposition 8. Now they define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, end of sentence. This is crap. I've had the privilege of conducting hundreds of weddings for Americans over the past few years here in Ontario. And the only difference I've found between same sex and opposite sex unions are that the same sex couples have a slightly higher - but not much - percentage of parents being jerks, and it's much harder to find tasteful cake toppers. That, and because more of the same sex couples had been together for 10, 25, 40 years already I felt they brought something unique and special to the institution and adventure which follows a wedding that does not diminish another's marriage. The millage and fortitude they bring strengthen the whole thing.
And Arkansas move to prevent same sex couples from adopting? Oi. The saddest part there is the waiting adoptable children are denied potentially loving, capable families. And in 10 to 20 years society as a whole is denied a potentially stable, secure adult.
But baby steps. All in all it's a glorious week. All in all it's a fabulous thing. We'll deal with what we can, be grateful for what's in front of us, and never mind what might have been or should be. I see the shadow most clearly, but I'm going to spend a bit more time looking at the light.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Sunday, October 05, 2008
So last night was Nuit Blanche in Toronto and once again, I had weddings and was not able to ramble as much as I'd have liked to. Next year I may plan to at least not have a wedding the next morning so I can stay out later. There's many people who write it off as a corporate event, the homogenization of art, a lot of hype for little content, blah blah blah. And they're all right but that's boring so I'll go for finding what beauty there was.
The first thing I liked about it was the crowds. Toronto is a huge city and normally the crowds resemble the walking dead as people shamble about from task to task to task in accordance with that they think they should be doing with their lives, heads down or glued to phones, texting meaningless drivel to one another, stepping over the homeless people and trying to walk through each other or into traffic. The general crowds in Toronto seem disconnected with their own existence or that of the very world we stand on and it bothers me. Occasionally they'll be woken up by a traffic accident or attractive window display or a particularly good busker, and you see the flicker of life in eyes, the flicker of interest and hope. NB? I won't say *everyone* seemed awake but the flicker was an overall blaze as hopeful couples, families, individuals and massive groups walked or biked between exhibits, guide maps clutched in their hands. There were more crowds than exhibits so the whole thing took on the air of an easter egg hunt, or a trick or treat for the mind.
I made it to my friend Tzuki's exhibit primarily because it was on the way home from wedding one this weekend. She and other artists were hosted by St. Thomas Church downtown at 383 Huron Street. She had two works on display: one spiral of stones you could walk with the symptoms of pregnancy in order labeled on to every third rock, and one work called "The Gate" in the baptistery of the main sanctuary space. She created a mood of "what would you take with you" in the middle of memorial plaques with white curtains, red silk, steamer trunk, book, candles and bones. People approached it with apprehension and wonder. In the main sanctuary space though, all hands were on - no space was too sacred for mortals to explore and dig into, and when the trio of singers (St. Blaze Trio, I think) ended each hymn a wild eruption of applause greeted them as it never would in an actual church service. Panels of fabric hung around the sanctuary with different displays being projected on them, a moving tapestry of light and meaning. When the trio was done for the night the crowd was on their feet, some kneeling to the cross first before whistling and howling for more. My kind of free for all faith display.
I walked down to Queen to catch the streetcar home, passing installations here and there and confused crowds wondering what to make of it all. Two men in their 60's peddled relining bikes that glowed neon blue, either part of the official art or celebrating in their own way. Many cyclists had flashing lights hanging from their hats or bikes and I was too shy to ask where they got them but I wanted five. I had walked, I realized, all the way from Spadina House where my wedding had been. On the north lawn a NB installation was in progress but on the south lawn there was me, my couple, their community and the ceremony we'd worked out. Handfasting, unity cup, a celebration of the elements through the nature of love and the sun hanging low at magic hour, under the worlds most perfect tree. Wine and cord, pen and paper, and the foundation of a marriage to celebrate a relationship already in progress. The bride was beautiful and the groom very handsome, and their people at ease with the ceremony at play. I haven't painted in years, around the house opportunities for art lay unattended. I finished the 3 day novel contest but that's the closest I've come to really creating something in a long time. Except last night, looking over the city I realized that my participation in NB was unofficial but wholly real. Maybe my art is a happy wedding. The materials are what's at hand, a good voice and words to hold the shape of an hour. Maybe. Maybe our art is what we build in our life that has meaning outside it, and it's worth is rooted in our attention to detail and the care we put into something we're willing to let utterly go.
Or maybe I'm just a big, fat romantic drunk on love. Either way, I've my British brides this morning with their high tea reception. I've got an antique hanky for each if they need it, procured in bulk from an antique dealer at St Lawrence Market who I have to visit again soon. They are adorable and I'm so very grateful that I get to officiate for them. Life is good.
The first thing I liked about it was the crowds. Toronto is a huge city and normally the crowds resemble the walking dead as people shamble about from task to task to task in accordance with that they think they should be doing with their lives, heads down or glued to phones, texting meaningless drivel to one another, stepping over the homeless people and trying to walk through each other or into traffic. The general crowds in Toronto seem disconnected with their own existence or that of the very world we stand on and it bothers me. Occasionally they'll be woken up by a traffic accident or attractive window display or a particularly good busker, and you see the flicker of life in eyes, the flicker of interest and hope. NB? I won't say *everyone* seemed awake but the flicker was an overall blaze as hopeful couples, families, individuals and massive groups walked or biked between exhibits, guide maps clutched in their hands. There were more crowds than exhibits so the whole thing took on the air of an easter egg hunt, or a trick or treat for the mind.
I made it to my friend Tzuki's exhibit primarily because it was on the way home from wedding one this weekend. She and other artists were hosted by St. Thomas Church downtown at 383 Huron Street. She had two works on display: one spiral of stones you could walk with the symptoms of pregnancy in order labeled on to every third rock, and one work called "The Gate" in the baptistery of the main sanctuary space. She created a mood of "what would you take with you" in the middle of memorial plaques with white curtains, red silk, steamer trunk, book, candles and bones. People approached it with apprehension and wonder. In the main sanctuary space though, all hands were on - no space was too sacred for mortals to explore and dig into, and when the trio of singers (St. Blaze Trio, I think) ended each hymn a wild eruption of applause greeted them as it never would in an actual church service. Panels of fabric hung around the sanctuary with different displays being projected on them, a moving tapestry of light and meaning. When the trio was done for the night the crowd was on their feet, some kneeling to the cross first before whistling and howling for more. My kind of free for all faith display.
I walked down to Queen to catch the streetcar home, passing installations here and there and confused crowds wondering what to make of it all. Two men in their 60's peddled relining bikes that glowed neon blue, either part of the official art or celebrating in their own way. Many cyclists had flashing lights hanging from their hats or bikes and I was too shy to ask where they got them but I wanted five. I had walked, I realized, all the way from Spadina House where my wedding had been. On the north lawn a NB installation was in progress but on the south lawn there was me, my couple, their community and the ceremony we'd worked out. Handfasting, unity cup, a celebration of the elements through the nature of love and the sun hanging low at magic hour, under the worlds most perfect tree. Wine and cord, pen and paper, and the foundation of a marriage to celebrate a relationship already in progress. The bride was beautiful and the groom very handsome, and their people at ease with the ceremony at play. I haven't painted in years, around the house opportunities for art lay unattended. I finished the 3 day novel contest but that's the closest I've come to really creating something in a long time. Except last night, looking over the city I realized that my participation in NB was unofficial but wholly real. Maybe my art is a happy wedding. The materials are what's at hand, a good voice and words to hold the shape of an hour. Maybe. Maybe our art is what we build in our life that has meaning outside it, and it's worth is rooted in our attention to detail and the care we put into something we're willing to let utterly go.
Or maybe I'm just a big, fat romantic drunk on love. Either way, I've my British brides this morning with their high tea reception. I've got an antique hanky for each if they need it, procured in bulk from an antique dealer at St Lawrence Market who I have to visit again soon. They are adorable and I'm so very grateful that I get to officiate for them. Life is good.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
What inspires me today:
Neat guy, kind of in love with the decidedly drunk sound (is there any surprise there?) of the Hardanger fiddle conversion. Love love love. This guy has a website listing instructions on how to make your own musical instruments that's looking for a new host. He makes banjo's out of cookie tins, so fair thinking he's looking for a free or super low costs host. If it pleases you to do so, check it out here: http://www.ehhs.cmich.edu/~dhavlena/
Hmmm. Eyeing the decrepit yard sale fiddle with furniture stain ripe for conversion...should really learn how to play the good one first before I seek to cannibalize the old...also, it's not technically mine...ah well. As soon as I can play at a couple of parties (aim: 09) I'll acquire a crap fiddle to mess with.
Neat guy, kind of in love with the decidedly drunk sound (is there any surprise there?) of the Hardanger fiddle conversion. Love love love. This guy has a website listing instructions on how to make your own musical instruments that's looking for a new host. He makes banjo's out of cookie tins, so fair thinking he's looking for a free or super low costs host. If it pleases you to do so, check it out here: http://www.ehhs.cmich.edu/~dhavlena/
Hmmm. Eyeing the decrepit yard sale fiddle with furniture stain ripe for conversion...should really learn how to play the good one first before I seek to cannibalize the old...also, it's not technically mine...ah well. As soon as I can play at a couple of parties (aim: 09) I'll acquire a crap fiddle to mess with.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I love all seasons - the unfurling green of spring, the lazy heat of summer, the cuddly cold of winter - but love fall best. It seems to me that fall is a groovy time of aha moments and general personal harvest. Weird? Maybe, but if I look back it seems like the biggest revelations have dropped out of fall.
Enter yesterday.
I have two weddings, for the sake of anonymity the first wedding and the second. They contact me at the same time about the same date. The 2nd express early on a desire to have an officiant they can connect with and meet me before booking. Then both couples try to book on the same day - the 1st are ahead by a nose, but the 2nd met me so they get dibs. For about an hour, then 1sts venue calls them and tells them they can't accommodate and the couple have to look elsewhere. They choose a venue that can only do an earlier start time and bingo, I can do both. Over the course of the summer and immediate week we sort out the details and all systems go.
Because I have to leave right after the first ceremony, I get to that one very early. I'm on hand to greet the groom and his boys, fine young men all. I'm also on hand to help set up unity candles and such. The brides mom looks very nervous, and she tells me that a suitcase containing a $3,000 projector, a substantial amount of cash, a laptop, the liquor license and...well, the wedding license...have been left in a cab. Possibly Admiral. The likely company is called, as are a few others in hopes of tracking it down. An extra helpful cop directing traffic nearby volunteers to call around and do what he can to track the item down. Everyone is working the problem and freaking out in equal measure when the bride arrives. This potential loss is a big party off switch, but we greet the bride, assure her everything is being done and then I promise to come back after my second wedding.
This shit happens. Sometimes a license is lost, or expires, or is forgotten. With so many guests present what I normally do is go through the ceremony anyway - you spend $$$ on an event, there should be a show - and meet up with the couple later to fulfill the legal bit. None of the guests have to know and all is well - they just get two anniversaries to remember. But I felt motivated to go out of my way so if the suitcase turned up, they could keep the date on all forms. Ceremony went off without a further hitch, I told them when to expect me next and was off.
Second wedding - brilliant people, mature beyond their years, had planned an extravaganza to celebrate their guests. Island wedding, private ferry. Saxophone player on each shore sending people off and welcoming them to ground, and then an outdoor wedding where everyone was welcome to speak. Except it was raining and the outdoor option was out of the question. All guest had to cram into the cozy clubhouse and be moved from one room to the next, assembled in x fashion, directed to create an isle, etc. My gifts in life are few butI do have a speaking voice that, while not actually able to raise the dead *can* stop the living in their tracks. Everyone hears me and follows instructions to the letter. Ceremony goes well, grooms and guests very happy they got me and I'm back off to the first wedding again.
I frequently get asked about my faith at weddings and say 'whatever people need' and leave it at that. The long answer is complicated and makes people frown, but here it is. I believe in an Other, whether this be a sentience or a connecting force between all life, don't know. Don't believe mortals who say they know, factually, who God is and what It wants. I maintain that if a persons religion makes them a better neighbour or friend, that's great. If it makes them think they're better than others I maintain that they've fucked it up and need to ditch whatever church or temple has been filling their head with beans. I think it's pretty much all the same Guy anyway, be that he/she/it/they/party of 12. That said I do occasionally pray To Whom It May Concern in the form of short memos giving thanks for specific moments. Although I've tried praying for stuff a few times as a kid, I think it's daft. I figure whatever is classifiable as God has other things to sort out than my BS, and adding my voice to the cacophonous din of people whining for shit - if it has any effect at all - might just piss It off. I have a brain, free will and opposable thumbs and am supposed to sort myself out. And yet, after finding out that Admiral had 1400 independent operators and that without a name or number an individual driver would be impossible to reach, I prayed for something on the way to the island. I thanked Whatever for the lesson and the opportunity, and asked it/she/he/they to bless the cab driver so that they might have the courage and grace to hand over the suitcase should they notice it.
Right, so I get back to the first wedding there's the projector, the laptop and (hallelujah) open bar - suitcase recovered. Still no marriage license though and it'll be after the speeches before anyone can go and look for it at the hotel. It sinks in that although it could be interpreted that a prayer got answered, I still had work to do. The brave bride asks what her options are, and I say so long as it gets there before midnight they can keep their date. I will cancel my plans and stay put. Both ask if I'm sure and I say things happen for a reason, I was supposed to be their officiant and had a duty to meet the challenge. And indeed, the license was found and we signed on a Victorian piano in the lobby of the oldest and most distinguished party venue in Toronto, all praise the day.
I got to hear the speeches though. Graceful, witty and above all grateful - not just from the couple but to the couple, for keeping people sane or in school, alive or on a good solid path. These two had already eased burdens and strengthened people, already made the world a better place and by uniting as a team could only get better at it. I got to help out some world changers yesterday and am very grateful for the opportunity. And - not to get too after school special or anything - feel I got nudged a little closer to the belief that Whatever is found in the best that people can do. From fathers to mothers to friends to cab drivers to cops to, with my brain and free will and thumbs, occasionally me.
Go autumn. Happy harvest everybody.
Enter yesterday.
I have two weddings, for the sake of anonymity the first wedding and the second. They contact me at the same time about the same date. The 2nd express early on a desire to have an officiant they can connect with and meet me before booking. Then both couples try to book on the same day - the 1st are ahead by a nose, but the 2nd met me so they get dibs. For about an hour, then 1sts venue calls them and tells them they can't accommodate and the couple have to look elsewhere. They choose a venue that can only do an earlier start time and bingo, I can do both. Over the course of the summer and immediate week we sort out the details and all systems go.
Because I have to leave right after the first ceremony, I get to that one very early. I'm on hand to greet the groom and his boys, fine young men all. I'm also on hand to help set up unity candles and such. The brides mom looks very nervous, and she tells me that a suitcase containing a $3,000 projector, a substantial amount of cash, a laptop, the liquor license and...well, the wedding license...have been left in a cab. Possibly Admiral. The likely company is called, as are a few others in hopes of tracking it down. An extra helpful cop directing traffic nearby volunteers to call around and do what he can to track the item down. Everyone is working the problem and freaking out in equal measure when the bride arrives. This potential loss is a big party off switch, but we greet the bride, assure her everything is being done and then I promise to come back after my second wedding.
This shit happens. Sometimes a license is lost, or expires, or is forgotten. With so many guests present what I normally do is go through the ceremony anyway - you spend $$$ on an event, there should be a show - and meet up with the couple later to fulfill the legal bit. None of the guests have to know and all is well - they just get two anniversaries to remember. But I felt motivated to go out of my way so if the suitcase turned up, they could keep the date on all forms. Ceremony went off without a further hitch, I told them when to expect me next and was off.
Second wedding - brilliant people, mature beyond their years, had planned an extravaganza to celebrate their guests. Island wedding, private ferry. Saxophone player on each shore sending people off and welcoming them to ground, and then an outdoor wedding where everyone was welcome to speak. Except it was raining and the outdoor option was out of the question. All guest had to cram into the cozy clubhouse and be moved from one room to the next, assembled in x fashion, directed to create an isle, etc. My gifts in life are few butI do have a speaking voice that, while not actually able to raise the dead *can* stop the living in their tracks. Everyone hears me and follows instructions to the letter. Ceremony goes well, grooms and guests very happy they got me and I'm back off to the first wedding again.
I frequently get asked about my faith at weddings and say 'whatever people need' and leave it at that. The long answer is complicated and makes people frown, but here it is. I believe in an Other, whether this be a sentience or a connecting force between all life, don't know. Don't believe mortals who say they know, factually, who God is and what It wants. I maintain that if a persons religion makes them a better neighbour or friend, that's great. If it makes them think they're better than others I maintain that they've fucked it up and need to ditch whatever church or temple has been filling their head with beans. I think it's pretty much all the same Guy anyway, be that he/she/it/they/party of 12. That said I do occasionally pray To Whom It May Concern in the form of short memos giving thanks for specific moments. Although I've tried praying for stuff a few times as a kid, I think it's daft. I figure whatever is classifiable as God has other things to sort out than my BS, and adding my voice to the cacophonous din of people whining for shit - if it has any effect at all - might just piss It off. I have a brain, free will and opposable thumbs and am supposed to sort myself out. And yet, after finding out that Admiral had 1400 independent operators and that without a name or number an individual driver would be impossible to reach, I prayed for something on the way to the island. I thanked Whatever for the lesson and the opportunity, and asked it/she/he/they to bless the cab driver so that they might have the courage and grace to hand over the suitcase should they notice it.
Right, so I get back to the first wedding there's the projector, the laptop and (hallelujah) open bar - suitcase recovered. Still no marriage license though and it'll be after the speeches before anyone can go and look for it at the hotel. It sinks in that although it could be interpreted that a prayer got answered, I still had work to do. The brave bride asks what her options are, and I say so long as it gets there before midnight they can keep their date. I will cancel my plans and stay put. Both ask if I'm sure and I say things happen for a reason, I was supposed to be their officiant and had a duty to meet the challenge. And indeed, the license was found and we signed on a Victorian piano in the lobby of the oldest and most distinguished party venue in Toronto, all praise the day.
I got to hear the speeches though. Graceful, witty and above all grateful - not just from the couple but to the couple, for keeping people sane or in school, alive or on a good solid path. These two had already eased burdens and strengthened people, already made the world a better place and by uniting as a team could only get better at it. I got to help out some world changers yesterday and am very grateful for the opportunity. And - not to get too after school special or anything - feel I got nudged a little closer to the belief that Whatever is found in the best that people can do. From fathers to mothers to friends to cab drivers to cops to, with my brain and free will and thumbs, occasionally me.
Go autumn. Happy harvest everybody.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
So. It's been awhile. An entire summer and the back ass of spring, to be precise. I've rekindled some friendships, had a lot of fabulous weddings, got to do a couple more wedding videos and launched a website. I've gone back to temp work when times got rough and will lather rinse and repeat, when necessary. Ripley is fine and well behaved. She does not like Fabulous Husband and I working out of the house.
Many things have happened. Most recently it's the death of an old friend. Not old as in she was that old, she was not. She was maybe 63, which seemed terribly old when I was a teenager but as I approach 40, less so. We met in 1992, when I was young and stupid and she was mature and amused. She felt old, she hated her gray, her lines. Having laughed and worried much, she had plenty of both in great natural supply. In recent years I hadn't seen her very much at all, and the slap of her sudden absence has me thinking of reconnecting with more people, keeping track. Perhaps in descending order of wellness, I don't know. She was at Woodstock, she fled to Canada with a draft dodger husband. She held her own in conversation and was a teacher, always. She would point out life lessons if you seemed to be missing one in progress. She cared about people. She saw the best potential in the people around her, the truth of them and not a rose coloured fantasy. But she hated exercise and ate poorly, although never to excess. She seemed very healthy; here and now though she's the first person in my life, if the coroner is to be believed, to have been killed by a lifetime of smoking. Peacefully, in bed and in the middle of a book. Dea, I will miss your wit. I will try to remember what you taught. You were simply, elegantly, unintentionally magnificent. Flaws and all, magnificent.
Many things have happened. Most recently it's the death of an old friend. Not old as in she was that old, she was not. She was maybe 63, which seemed terribly old when I was a teenager but as I approach 40, less so. We met in 1992, when I was young and stupid and she was mature and amused. She felt old, she hated her gray, her lines. Having laughed and worried much, she had plenty of both in great natural supply. In recent years I hadn't seen her very much at all, and the slap of her sudden absence has me thinking of reconnecting with more people, keeping track. Perhaps in descending order of wellness, I don't know. She was at Woodstock, she fled to Canada with a draft dodger husband. She held her own in conversation and was a teacher, always. She would point out life lessons if you seemed to be missing one in progress. She cared about people. She saw the best potential in the people around her, the truth of them and not a rose coloured fantasy. But she hated exercise and ate poorly, although never to excess. She seemed very healthy; here and now though she's the first person in my life, if the coroner is to be believed, to have been killed by a lifetime of smoking. Peacefully, in bed and in the middle of a book. Dea, I will miss your wit. I will try to remember what you taught. You were simply, elegantly, unintentionally magnificent. Flaws and all, magnificent.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Ow. Made it. Port fountain postponed until my 40th. Other libations may happen sooner, like this evening. Apparently my bike is a heavy, steel framed beast and you're not supposed to ride the whole time in 4th - had no idea. Ow.
The Green Living show was at once a shopping fest, an infomercial, a networking opportunity and a gleeful, albeit lurching at times, step in the right direction. Some booths were green, others were trying and some hadn't quite got the right memo. I still couldn't fact the Burts Bee's booth (their new owner, Clorox, was also there) but made some new friends with another cosmetic line (need more research, but so far so wow) and was happy to see/smell/almost bite Lush. Fell in love with a bike (oooo so pretty), a chair (red cork, felt like soft leather) and a pair of boots (made out of hemp, car and bicycle tires, recycled plastic, cork and coconuts). Was endeared by companies who apologized up front for non-recycled paper ("there was a miscommunication with our printer, and we felt it was better to use them than not"), readily available green bins and biodegradable everything. Most things that bug me about trade shows were absent. Some of the things I've always wanted but didn't even know how to name were there. Will be going back next year with more time and some cash, but for now I've got about 70 new products and suppliers to research and see if they're everything they say.
Down the hall though, Elle magazine had their own trade show. Same building, same day. While waiting for company I watched row on row of cookie cutter housewives with their paper, single use Elle bags in hand, pink clothed mini-consumers at their sides walking back to the parking lot. Some kids heads turned in curiosity's as they passed the Green show though, hearing the cheers and drumming inside (the kids area had ongoing story telling and large puppets from the look of it), peered at the happy teen agers giving out saplings. There was a longing on the little faces that I don't think will fade. It was a strange and hopeful parade.
The Green Living show was at once a shopping fest, an infomercial, a networking opportunity and a gleeful, albeit lurching at times, step in the right direction. Some booths were green, others were trying and some hadn't quite got the right memo. I still couldn't fact the Burts Bee's booth (their new owner, Clorox, was also there) but made some new friends with another cosmetic line (need more research, but so far so wow) and was happy to see/smell/almost bite Lush. Fell in love with a bike (oooo so pretty), a chair (red cork, felt like soft leather) and a pair of boots (made out of hemp, car and bicycle tires, recycled plastic, cork and coconuts). Was endeared by companies who apologized up front for non-recycled paper ("there was a miscommunication with our printer, and we felt it was better to use them than not"), readily available green bins and biodegradable everything. Most things that bug me about trade shows were absent. Some of the things I've always wanted but didn't even know how to name were there. Will be going back next year with more time and some cash, but for now I've got about 70 new products and suppliers to research and see if they're everything they say.
Down the hall though, Elle magazine had their own trade show. Same building, same day. While waiting for company I watched row on row of cookie cutter housewives with their paper, single use Elle bags in hand, pink clothed mini-consumers at their sides walking back to the parking lot. Some kids heads turned in curiosity's as they passed the Green show though, hearing the cheers and drumming inside (the kids area had ongoing story telling and large puppets from the look of it), peered at the happy teen agers giving out saplings. There was a longing on the little faces that I don't think will fade. It was a strange and hopeful parade.
I'm pretty much bitching to anyone who will listen right now, and the husband is asleep so hello. TTC is on strike as of now. On a year where the heat wakes me up in April, when we've had much earlier smog warnings than previous years, when there's a lot going on in the city for people to get to the one service that keeps the city greener has walked off the job. I don't disagree that their jobs are challenging and unpredictable. I don't disagree that they, like all other workers, deserve raises from time to time. However, whenever they strike I remember back when I was a home support worker and got to my clients via TTC. Home support workers don't make enough for cabs, don't often have cars, and are often booked far from their homes in order to make a living. Home support workers take the bus - and clients rely on the companionship, cooking, cleaning and personal care provided by them. Today there are elderly and vulnerable and palliative people across the city alone and a little more vulnerable than they needed to be. That? Is wrong.
Personally I fee like a little bit of a jerk right now because as much as I know there are single moms who can't get to their less than understanding jobs, family outings canceled and maybe even people alone who shouldn't be, I'm mostly annoyed for myself today. I'm aware of the other stuff but oddly more bothered by my own inconvenience, which makes me a bit of a tool. I've got a volunteer shift at the Green Living Show. It's far. I don't have cash for cabs, I don't drive. I also haven't ridden a bike in 17 years and as someone made up of an embarrassing lot of flubberly goo (although 7lbs less than three weeks ago, go me!) who's a big spaz and able to hurt herself with common household objects previously thought harmless - I am not at all really ready for this. I'm going to try to stay out of large amounts of traffic (hard to do on a day when everyone is forced to drive) and...well, try. I have a lock. I have a helmet. I have a hope in hell that without a tune up the new untried used bike will hold, it was gifted by a trustworthy looking yoga instructor from craigslist. (thank you Emma!) Hopefully I will be in some sort of useful shape when I get there, hopefully I will make it back in one piece (wedding tomorrow, kind of important) and hopefully the TTC will a) get what they want and b) be deemed an essential service and rendered unable to hold a city hostage again.
Right, this is it. If I get hit by a car or something I leave everything to the fabulous husband, request that Lt. Ripley be cared for and three kegs and a port fountain at the funeral. If I make it...we'll have a port fountain anyway for my next birthday party, because that sounds very nice. Must not drink and ride, must not drink and ride...will very likely be drinking tonight.
Personally I fee like a little bit of a jerk right now because as much as I know there are single moms who can't get to their less than understanding jobs, family outings canceled and maybe even people alone who shouldn't be, I'm mostly annoyed for myself today. I'm aware of the other stuff but oddly more bothered by my own inconvenience, which makes me a bit of a tool. I've got a volunteer shift at the Green Living Show. It's far. I don't have cash for cabs, I don't drive. I also haven't ridden a bike in 17 years and as someone made up of an embarrassing lot of flubberly goo (although 7lbs less than three weeks ago, go me!) who's a big spaz and able to hurt herself with common household objects previously thought harmless - I am not at all really ready for this. I'm going to try to stay out of large amounts of traffic (hard to do on a day when everyone is forced to drive) and...well, try. I have a lock. I have a helmet. I have a hope in hell that without a tune up the new untried used bike will hold, it was gifted by a trustworthy looking yoga instructor from craigslist. (thank you Emma!) Hopefully I will be in some sort of useful shape when I get there, hopefully I will make it back in one piece (wedding tomorrow, kind of important) and hopefully the TTC will a) get what they want and b) be deemed an essential service and rendered unable to hold a city hostage again.
Right, this is it. If I get hit by a car or something I leave everything to the fabulous husband, request that Lt. Ripley be cared for and three kegs and a port fountain at the funeral. If I make it...we'll have a port fountain anyway for my next birthday party, because that sounds very nice. Must not drink and ride, must not drink and ride...will very likely be drinking tonight.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Each wedding season I vow to really try not to take up so much space in peoples photo's. And then there's the champagne and the cake and....who am I kidding, the port...and I've just kept going up and up and up like a crazy Californian in a lawn chair, you know? Even though diabetes is rampant in my family, even though heart disease and stroke I can Dad (quintuple bypass) and Mom (series of minis) respectively - it's not that I'm not stubborn, I'm just not stubborn to my benefit.
Recently we've been looking hard at dietary choices over here, partly because weight loss and fitness is the only thing that seems to make Fabulous Husband feel better, partly because I'd like to celebrate 40 with my own knees, and partly because we suspect that there's a wheat allergy afoot. It's got us cooking real food. Which is easier to control the portions of. Which, in combination with a new found love of rowing, is peeling off some pounds. Hurah.
Another thing has been incorporated into my own diabolical plan to get down to one ass by the end of the Mayan calendar: The Daily Plate
It's really helping. I enter what I eat and do and it does the part with math to help me see how I'm doing - am I meeting daily nutritional needs, am I working out enough, how many calories really is that chocolate bar, and so on. You can keep things totally private or, if you want to join up with friends I'm there as cookietheviking. And I know not all of my friends get along so here's the fun part: you can register as any user name you want. Just tell me so I'll accept the friend invitation, k? It's like facebook with a point, in some ways. Best part? Free. There's more features for higher memberships and it's all kinds of awesome, but for the basics it's free. Anywho, I'm down five lbs in 1.5 weeks and thought it was worth mentioning.
Recently we've been looking hard at dietary choices over here, partly because weight loss and fitness is the only thing that seems to make Fabulous Husband feel better, partly because I'd like to celebrate 40 with my own knees, and partly because we suspect that there's a wheat allergy afoot. It's got us cooking real food. Which is easier to control the portions of. Which, in combination with a new found love of rowing, is peeling off some pounds. Hurah.
Another thing has been incorporated into my own diabolical plan to get down to one ass by the end of the Mayan calendar: The Daily Plate
It's really helping. I enter what I eat and do and it does the part with math to help me see how I'm doing - am I meeting daily nutritional needs, am I working out enough, how many calories really is that chocolate bar, and so on. You can keep things totally private or, if you want to join up with friends I'm there as cookietheviking. And I know not all of my friends get along so here's the fun part: you can register as any user name you want. Just tell me so I'll accept the friend invitation, k? It's like facebook with a point, in some ways. Best part? Free. There's more features for higher memberships and it's all kinds of awesome, but for the basics it's free. Anywho, I'm down five lbs in 1.5 weeks and thought it was worth mentioning.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Last year was the 50th anniversary of the Canadian Arts Council and I took part. I created various pieces of art, acquired an instrument (and know a couple of notes on it), learned to edit film and wrote some. Not enough to make me 100% happy, but enough that I gave serious consideration to what I viewed as art and work, and the Council sent me a T-Shirt which was the total cherry on the cake. (mmmm. cake.)
Today I got a Facebook protest about an exhibit in Nicaragua last August where a street animal was allegedly starved to death in front of a crowd to a) draw attention to the plight of street animals and /or b) commemorate a burglar who'd been killed/eaten by guard dogs. It could be real, it could be part of an elaborate PR campaign on behalf of the artist. More info here:
http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/art/archives/134292.asp
and here:
http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/news/story/0,,2269320,00.html
Lets assume the part where the dog was hungry, and used in this exhibit are true. There's two issues for me, here. Art makes people think, feel, gets a reaction. If someone just places something they didn't make themselves (pylon, broom, can of hairspray - whatever) in your path that forces a reaction, never mind if that reaction was necessary or important, are they an artist? They're facilitating a reaction, but not creating anything in this case, remember. Does putting something in your way in a gallery make it more artful? Nope, don't think so. (But I also don't think God gets better reception if you pray in church as opposed to your bathtub.) So there's the one issue, I just don't think it's very creative or a credit to art.
The second thing is - it's a fucking starving dog. A living, breathing, suffering thing. What the fuck? Is it okay to deny an AIDS patient their medication and put them, against their will, in a glass box on Bay street to slowly die in order to better draw attention to suffering in Africa? Fuck no. Yes, you can argue in favor of it. You can argue in favor of anything, but that flavor of narcissistic hubris masquerading as logic is how crazy shit happens all the time. War, genocide, vivisection, all manor of horrors. It's "only" a dog, whether it died or not, but to me it's the thin edge of the wedge - not art.
And that is my opinion on this matter. Good evening to you.
Today I got a Facebook protest about an exhibit in Nicaragua last August where a street animal was allegedly starved to death in front of a crowd to a) draw attention to the plight of street animals and /or b) commemorate a burglar who'd been killed/eaten by guard dogs. It could be real, it could be part of an elaborate PR campaign on behalf of the artist. More info here:
http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/art/archives/134292.asp
and here:
http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/news/story/0,,2269320,00.html
Lets assume the part where the dog was hungry, and used in this exhibit are true. There's two issues for me, here. Art makes people think, feel, gets a reaction. If someone just places something they didn't make themselves (pylon, broom, can of hairspray - whatever) in your path that forces a reaction, never mind if that reaction was necessary or important, are they an artist? They're facilitating a reaction, but not creating anything in this case, remember. Does putting something in your way in a gallery make it more artful? Nope, don't think so. (But I also don't think God gets better reception if you pray in church as opposed to your bathtub.) So there's the one issue, I just don't think it's very creative or a credit to art.
The second thing is - it's a fucking starving dog. A living, breathing, suffering thing. What the fuck? Is it okay to deny an AIDS patient their medication and put them, against their will, in a glass box on Bay street to slowly die in order to better draw attention to suffering in Africa? Fuck no. Yes, you can argue in favor of it. You can argue in favor of anything, but that flavor of narcissistic hubris masquerading as logic is how crazy shit happens all the time. War, genocide, vivisection, all manor of horrors. It's "only" a dog, whether it died or not, but to me it's the thin edge of the wedge - not art.
And that is my opinion on this matter. Good evening to you.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
I find myself thinking about marriage and relationships a lot, possibly because I'm a wedding officiant, I don't know. Every once in a while I get to thinking about an old friend I used to have who had some of the best advice regarding marriage. She was 93 when I met her and we had some great talks. She was a strong advocate of separate rooms for married couples because it added a sense of spice and adventure. She and her husband had had rudimentary intercoms in their rooms that the could send sweet nothings through. And then there was the fun of sneaking around children to get to each others rooms. She also advised me on men coming home drunk "because they do that, dear, after business meetings that go late". She said the other young wives in their circle of friends in the 20's and 30's (the 1920's and 30's, not the women's age) would get upset with their husbands, railing at them - but not her. She'd welcome him home in the wee hours and offer him a night cap, then mix him a triple martini and talk about her day until he'd finished it. Then she'd leave him, unconscious, wherever he dropped and he'd wake the next day, embarrassed and abashed, remembering nothing about the encounter with his sweetheart the previous night. And she'd smile and coo and give him nothing to anchor his hangover on - and he'd clean up his act for some time until he'd join the boys again and get reminded of the evils of drink by his lady wife later on. "No sense arguing with the five martinis that came before you, my young girl" she'd say. They were married well into old age. I figure anyone who's close to a hundred in years, makes one feel welcome to be around and is happy in themselves has good advise. She told me once that she believed people lived on in the memories of those who loved them, and she's got a home in my mind for certain. I found myself thinking about her earlier today, about her adventures and her mirth, and just wanted to share. Because she always made me laugh, and because I kind of want to be Alice when I grow up.
Friday, February 08, 2008
It's my birthday today. I'm 37. I have no university degree, I'm overweight, unschooled in conventional North American female grooming techniques (what do you mean I can't keep the same mascara I used twice a year for seven years? it's not still good?), have rapidly graying hair, wrinkles, occasionally sincerely lack communication skills to the determent of relationships and were I to have a child at this point in my life? I'd be cooking with soft boiled eggs.
On the other hand, when my Mom was this age she was residentially challenged with two small children and only her winning smile to turn to. When my maternal Grandmother was this age she was trapped. I have a groovy husband, the best imaginable friends, a nice budding new career, a pretty house and a cute cat. I'm eating an apple and can smell the coffee brewing downstairs. Mostly I communicate well and take great pleasure from being able to help the people who bless and populate my life. And although I'm working at being healthier (with the working out each day and the aforementioned apple) I'm not going to have some sort of crisis if I'm never a size 10 or 8. Some days, (shhhhh) I even like my fat. The aforementioned husband likes the gray. The lines are (mostly) from laughing. Today I have a business meeting at 10, to discuss helping out with a pilot pitch for a new TV series that I really believe in, and later on today am helping out one of my favorite musicians with a four song video demo. Both are (although heavily discounted) paying gigs. I love being a wedding officiant, and am really looking forward to the documentary on same sex marriage we're going to work on this year. We don't have funding and we'll be able to do it anyway because of the contacts I have and the fact we have the equipment and software necessary. If I really think about it, there's stuff I've don't I'm not proud of and choices I would have made differently with the benefit of hind sight, but over all I have no regrets. And the lady at the local bakery just gave me a pretty blueberry pastry and sang happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to me indeed. :-)
On the other hand, when my Mom was this age she was residentially challenged with two small children and only her winning smile to turn to. When my maternal Grandmother was this age she was trapped. I have a groovy husband, the best imaginable friends, a nice budding new career, a pretty house and a cute cat. I'm eating an apple and can smell the coffee brewing downstairs. Mostly I communicate well and take great pleasure from being able to help the people who bless and populate my life. And although I'm working at being healthier (with the working out each day and the aforementioned apple) I'm not going to have some sort of crisis if I'm never a size 10 or 8. Some days, (shhhhh) I even like my fat. The aforementioned husband likes the gray. The lines are (mostly) from laughing. Today I have a business meeting at 10, to discuss helping out with a pilot pitch for a new TV series that I really believe in, and later on today am helping out one of my favorite musicians with a four song video demo. Both are (although heavily discounted) paying gigs. I love being a wedding officiant, and am really looking forward to the documentary on same sex marriage we're going to work on this year. We don't have funding and we'll be able to do it anyway because of the contacts I have and the fact we have the equipment and software necessary. If I really think about it, there's stuff I've don't I'm not proud of and choices I would have made differently with the benefit of hind sight, but over all I have no regrets. And the lady at the local bakery just gave me a pretty blueberry pastry and sang happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to me indeed. :-)
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
On the one hand, I'm officially set up to have what could be the most interesting birthday yet, with a business meeting in the morning and a music video gig on Friday, maybe tea later on.
On the other hand, there's a strike in the shadow this week. We hadn't talked in a while but I remember how cool and together she was every time we did. Nothing was insurmountable, she was flexibility and competence personified. In a colleague, you crave that sort of thing and when you develop a personal relationship with the person, you feel blessed. I didn't believe her the first time she told me that she had adult children, she just looked too young - she brought "aged well" to a new level. She was joyful, even tempered and accountable - a stunning example of what is fine and good in humanity, in my opinion. She was very supportive of people when they were sad or sick too, understanding the nuances and ripple effect of loss. It seems that she had a good deal of support and love around her these past years when the cancer came back to claim her. It's been a while since I saw her last and I don't know if I can say I'll miss her more now that I know I won't see her again, it's not like that. When that kind of light goes out I feel sad for the world. It's like a species becomes extinct. No more river dolphin. No more Patricia. Rest beautifully, nice lady. I'll try to keep in mind what I learned from you and carry it forward as best I can. Apologies in advance if I screw up now and then.
On the other hand, there's a strike in the shadow this week. We hadn't talked in a while but I remember how cool and together she was every time we did. Nothing was insurmountable, she was flexibility and competence personified. In a colleague, you crave that sort of thing and when you develop a personal relationship with the person, you feel blessed. I didn't believe her the first time she told me that she had adult children, she just looked too young - she brought "aged well" to a new level. She was joyful, even tempered and accountable - a stunning example of what is fine and good in humanity, in my opinion. She was very supportive of people when they were sad or sick too, understanding the nuances and ripple effect of loss. It seems that she had a good deal of support and love around her these past years when the cancer came back to claim her. It's been a while since I saw her last and I don't know if I can say I'll miss her more now that I know I won't see her again, it's not like that. When that kind of light goes out I feel sad for the world. It's like a species becomes extinct. No more river dolphin. No more Patricia. Rest beautifully, nice lady. I'll try to keep in mind what I learned from you and carry it forward as best I can. Apologies in advance if I screw up now and then.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Snowday
Friday it snowed. Saturday I went out to take some pictures of it. I absolutely love snow. I don't ski or snowboard, it's unlikely that I'll ever successfully snowshoe and thanks to a head injury in my late teens (which also happily resulted in a nearly constant state of bliss) I'm not going tobogganing again any time soon. I don't enjoy the sports and recreation of winter, and I'm not actually a big fan of the cold. But I do like how snow transforms landscapes.
And I like how the sun takes it sweet time to drag it's gaseous ass out of bed, and ducks out from work early when the boss's back is turned, gives us celestial right to do the same. I like how everything is slowed by slush and shadow to a thoughtful crawl. I like how nature lays a smack down on technology, and with all our marvels we must heed the "I don't think so" of her inclinations. I like how we have to slow down.
We had a lot of snow where I grew up, mounds of it. Snow banks up to four feet tall were common by roads, on the patch of public grass or ditch that separated the road from the side walk. You see these green strips in the suburbs but not downtown. In small towns, they’re nearly everywhere. You could hide from cars, spy on them. They made perfect siege walls for snowball fights, stuff of legends. These were often frozen on top, flat, and you could run along them at super hero height. It's a big deal when you're seven.
Snow banks by parking lots could have a warren dug out in them for careful children, who would smooth the walls with water to freeze and help the forts endure, pepper them with treasures and listen for snow plows, getting out before machines could wall you in.
Heavy snow, and I remember ice and drifts and windows done over by frost, turning ever room into a chapel of grey and glittering light. This was my childhood in winter, so these are my memories in snow.
Not every place in the world curls up to sleep for a season, but I'm glad I live in one. The care we have for each other carries us through, and I think that's a good thing to be reminded of.
The world turns inward and so can we, fortify our insides and get ready for another year. Select which seeds to plant in the coming weeks, plan what we choose to harvest. Physical seeds, metaphorical seeds - which ever. Whether the plan is to grow a cabbage, strengthen a career, dust off a resume, plan an escape - whatever. Imbolc is the time of year to do that, to identify and plot and scheme and prepare for the life we want.
I'm glad we had a snowy Imbolc this year, that I have good memories of snow, that I have friends to love to see through and see me through icy times. And I'm really glad I got the big container of hot chocolate. I think I'll grow parsley and roses and a documentary this year. But there's still some time to think about it, the snow is still thick on the ground.
Friday it snowed. Saturday I went out to take some pictures of it. I absolutely love snow. I don't ski or snowboard, it's unlikely that I'll ever successfully snowshoe and thanks to a head injury in my late teens (which also happily resulted in a nearly constant state of bliss) I'm not going tobogganing again any time soon. I don't enjoy the sports and recreation of winter, and I'm not actually a big fan of the cold. But I do like how snow transforms landscapes.
And I like how the sun takes it sweet time to drag it's gaseous ass out of bed, and ducks out from work early when the boss's back is turned, gives us celestial right to do the same. I like how everything is slowed by slush and shadow to a thoughtful crawl. I like how nature lays a smack down on technology, and with all our marvels we must heed the "I don't think so" of her inclinations. I like how we have to slow down.
We had a lot of snow where I grew up, mounds of it. Snow banks up to four feet tall were common by roads, on the patch of public grass or ditch that separated the road from the side walk. You see these green strips in the suburbs but not downtown. In small towns, they’re nearly everywhere. You could hide from cars, spy on them. They made perfect siege walls for snowball fights, stuff of legends. These were often frozen on top, flat, and you could run along them at super hero height. It's a big deal when you're seven.
Snow banks by parking lots could have a warren dug out in them for careful children, who would smooth the walls with water to freeze and help the forts endure, pepper them with treasures and listen for snow plows, getting out before machines could wall you in.
Heavy snow, and I remember ice and drifts and windows done over by frost, turning ever room into a chapel of grey and glittering light. This was my childhood in winter, so these are my memories in snow.
Not every place in the world curls up to sleep for a season, but I'm glad I live in one. The care we have for each other carries us through, and I think that's a good thing to be reminded of.
The world turns inward and so can we, fortify our insides and get ready for another year. Select which seeds to plant in the coming weeks, plan what we choose to harvest. Physical seeds, metaphorical seeds - which ever. Whether the plan is to grow a cabbage, strengthen a career, dust off a resume, plan an escape - whatever. Imbolc is the time of year to do that, to identify and plot and scheme and prepare for the life we want.
I'm glad we had a snowy Imbolc this year, that I have good memories of snow, that I have friends to love to see through and see me through icy times. And I'm really glad I got the big container of hot chocolate. I think I'll grow parsley and roses and a documentary this year. But there's still some time to think about it, the snow is still thick on the ground.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
As proof that I suck at updating this blog (damn you facebook) this was a month ago. Trip to Allen Gardens, a free conservatory in an arguably sketchy bit of town. By "sketchy", the park it's in is characterized by (quoting city project planning docs here) emotionally disturbed and marginalized persons. Since this basically discribes myself and many of my friends, Kelly and I braved the weird and trundled off on a freezing day to enjoy and take pictures of this historic collection of public greenhouses.
Mmmmmmmm. Before the days of archetorture and crystaline entities attacking the ROM, people built stuff that looked like this. Nice.
Most PG rated statue of Leda and the Swan award goes to: winnah! It's nice to see these two finally getting along.
Hot. Very hot. No place for parkas, this particular green house. There are actually six greenhouses together but the cactus house is definately the warmest. Beautiful collection of cacti abound. I can't, however, look at any cactus without David Bowies version of the song of the same name going through my head. Which is not unwelcome at all.
This is the main, middle section and the place where I've conducted two weddings. For anyone thinking about it, Allen Gardens is a fantastic place to get married, brilliant for photos and you're utterly connected with nature while being protected from the elements. As an added bonus, although we didn't see any that day, occasionally winter fat squirrels deek in to the Palm House through the open windows up top to run up and down the tropical plants. A sight everyong should see at least once in their lives - sorry, no pix, you'll have to visit.
I just really like this, like Gods rain switch or something.
I screwed up a lot of pictures of this particular flower. I still don't think I got it right. So very pretty in person. Around this time a group of people from a wedding accosted us and demanded to know where to stand. "Dude, I don't know". "Aren't you our photographer?" "Nope." "Well, where is she?" ".....um, delayed?" I must look like I have answers. I do, they're just not always good ones.
I liked this too. Not sure why.
Mmmmmmmm. Orange flowers.
I was not super close to this leaf, nor is this a special nimble lens. It's just a really big freaking leaf, about four feet of planty goodness.
Allen Gardens is for everyone, walking or wheeled. Again - nice.
We did meet one of the proprotedly marginalized persons out front and had a nice conversation that went something like this:
Old lady in santa hat: Hi!
Me: Hello!
Kelly: (runs away to takes pictures of dogs)
OLISH: You girls taking pictures??
Me: (looks down at rather large Canon XT I'm holding) Yup.
OLISH: It's COLD.
Me: Sure is. Warm in there though. (guestures to greenhouse)
OLISH: There's a falcon around here somewhere. Two guys was here last week taking pictures, and they got some of it.
Me: Really? Have you seen it today?
OLISH: Nah, but it liked having it's picture took.
Me: How could you tell?
OLISH: Well, as soon as it saw them, it was sitting up over there, and when it saw them it stuck out it's wings like this (here she sticks out her arms and begins to impersonate last weeks bird) prancing around like it's Britney Spears or something. Posing!
Me: Well, hopefully not entirely like Britney. That would be sad for a falcon.
OLISH: I know! It's like no one's gonna tell her she needs help.
Me: Not one honest friend. And no privacy, it would be a terrible way to live.
OLISH: Tell you what, if I knew her, I'd be like c'mere girl, you and me are going to the Betty Ford.
Me: Now see, you're a good person. It would be nice for her to have a friend like you.
OLISH: (beams) Hey! There he is!
Me: ....who?
OLISH: (looks at me like I'm on drugs) The FALCON!! Up there! Take a picture!!! Quick!!
Me: Oh, hey, thanks! (can't get zoom lens out quick enough to get a good shot, shoot futiley to the sky anyway to show her I'm trying to take her advice. When I get home I find I actually have five distant images of the falcon) Bye now, take care!
Kelly: Hey, is that a falcon?
Me: Yeah, and she's worried about Britney Spears. (Kelly looks at me like I'm on drugs) The old lady in the santa hat. It's irrelevant to the falcon. (and here I envied the falcons view, still wishing it would drop a bit closer)
More later. Likely the snow pix from today.
Mmmmmmmm. Before the days of archetorture and crystaline entities attacking the ROM, people built stuff that looked like this. Nice.
Most PG rated statue of Leda and the Swan award goes to: winnah! It's nice to see these two finally getting along.
Hot. Very hot. No place for parkas, this particular green house. There are actually six greenhouses together but the cactus house is definately the warmest. Beautiful collection of cacti abound. I can't, however, look at any cactus without David Bowies version of the song of the same name going through my head. Which is not unwelcome at all.
This is the main, middle section and the place where I've conducted two weddings. For anyone thinking about it, Allen Gardens is a fantastic place to get married, brilliant for photos and you're utterly connected with nature while being protected from the elements. As an added bonus, although we didn't see any that day, occasionally winter fat squirrels deek in to the Palm House through the open windows up top to run up and down the tropical plants. A sight everyong should see at least once in their lives - sorry, no pix, you'll have to visit.
I just really like this, like Gods rain switch or something.
I screwed up a lot of pictures of this particular flower. I still don't think I got it right. So very pretty in person. Around this time a group of people from a wedding accosted us and demanded to know where to stand. "Dude, I don't know". "Aren't you our photographer?" "Nope." "Well, where is she?" ".....um, delayed?" I must look like I have answers. I do, they're just not always good ones.
I liked this too. Not sure why.
Mmmmmmmm. Orange flowers.
I was not super close to this leaf, nor is this a special nimble lens. It's just a really big freaking leaf, about four feet of planty goodness.
Allen Gardens is for everyone, walking or wheeled. Again - nice.
We did meet one of the proprotedly marginalized persons out front and had a nice conversation that went something like this:
Old lady in santa hat: Hi!
Me: Hello!
Kelly: (runs away to takes pictures of dogs)
OLISH: You girls taking pictures??
Me: (looks down at rather large Canon XT I'm holding) Yup.
OLISH: It's COLD.
Me: Sure is. Warm in there though. (guestures to greenhouse)
OLISH: There's a falcon around here somewhere. Two guys was here last week taking pictures, and they got some of it.
Me: Really? Have you seen it today?
OLISH: Nah, but it liked having it's picture took.
Me: How could you tell?
OLISH: Well, as soon as it saw them, it was sitting up over there, and when it saw them it stuck out it's wings like this (here she sticks out her arms and begins to impersonate last weeks bird) prancing around like it's Britney Spears or something. Posing!
Me: Well, hopefully not entirely like Britney. That would be sad for a falcon.
OLISH: I know! It's like no one's gonna tell her she needs help.
Me: Not one honest friend. And no privacy, it would be a terrible way to live.
OLISH: Tell you what, if I knew her, I'd be like c'mere girl, you and me are going to the Betty Ford.
Me: Now see, you're a good person. It would be nice for her to have a friend like you.
OLISH: (beams) Hey! There he is!
Me: ....who?
OLISH: (looks at me like I'm on drugs) The FALCON!! Up there! Take a picture!!! Quick!!
Me: Oh, hey, thanks! (can't get zoom lens out quick enough to get a good shot, shoot futiley to the sky anyway to show her I'm trying to take her advice. When I get home I find I actually have five distant images of the falcon) Bye now, take care!
Kelly: Hey, is that a falcon?
Me: Yeah, and she's worried about Britney Spears. (Kelly looks at me like I'm on drugs) The old lady in the santa hat. It's irrelevant to the falcon. (and here I envied the falcons view, still wishing it would drop a bit closer)
More later. Likely the snow pix from today.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Monday, January 07, 2008
So 2007 did not end without another wedding, and 2008 began with two of the most awesome and most fun. Just before Christmas I got a call about a couple who's original officiant wasn't working out and got to help them along on one of the most romantic stories I've ever heard. They were both 50 and it was like universal forces in 2007 had conspired to have them meet and fall in love. It was actually, even given how long she'd waited for him and how jaded he said he'd become, love at first sight and they were both open and beautiful to each other. Absolutely beautiful wedding, so proud to have been a part of it - kinda misted up a bit in gratitude to the universe for the opprotunity to serve. New Years Eve was off for the first time in forever (soooo many peole want to get married on holidays), so of course we wasted it by hanging out with friends and watching Dexter. New Years Day we got to film a wedding where the restaurants fire alarm went off *just* after the unity candle lighting. Hilarious coincidence - it was a kitchen thing, easily remedied but really really cute. Kind of like the couple, who may have contributed some footage toward a short documentary we want to do on same sex couples who travel to Canada to get married. 2008 is shaping up to be challenging, busy and hopefully fun.
And the boy is turning 40. Wicked! :-)
And the boy is turning 40. Wicked! :-)
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