Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Things I Learned/Discovered Today
Went to the Tegan & Sara concert last night. They are highschool friends of one of my best friends so we had backstage passes (very exciting, I've never done that before and it made me feel very A-list). They are absolutely lovely people and I am indebted to them for making a siginificant contribution to my last break-up recovery with their song, You Wouldn't Like Me (which, much to my delight, they played in the encore). But I digress. I got into a conversation with Sara about the radio program, This American Life, and I left promising to look up an episode called Act V. Cleaning my apartment was on my to-do list today and so I looked up the program and set to cleaning while listening. This particular episode features a reporter who spends 6 months at a maximum security prison in the States where a theatre director has created a program by which the inmates learn, rehearse and perform Shakespeare's Hamlet in 5 installments for an audience of fellow prisoners, family, and the Arts community which funds the program. To be clear, these are murderers, pedophiles, rapists, you name it, performing a play about murder and revenge. Nutshelling the play: Hamlet's dead father comes to him in a dream and says, "Avenge my death. Your uncle murdered me, married your mother and stole my kingdom and my crown." I cried, I cheered, I was awed, I was horrified, I was shocked. It was an incredible hour of programming that made me consider the penal system, social hierarchy, my own preconceived notions about education and convicts and all sorts of things. I am in love with this program. And then I discovered that iTunes offers This American Life as a free podcast subscription. Yeah!
Had my night class tonight. The class is taught by two boisterous, feisty lawyers. At the end of our weekly 3 hour class they always do a bit that they call Coaches Corner. The premise of this bit is that they will tell us things that they wished they knew as articling students and junior lawyers. Today the topic was: Tasks You Might Be Asked To Do As An Articling Student. And what followed was the laundry list of taking minutes at meetings and picking up drycleaning and ordering booze for the Friday afternoon impromtu parties. And then Dr. "Bob" of previous posts raised his hand and asked the profs what the best way to handle a certain delicate situation. What follows is an approximate recitation of the exchange between them, and an interesting example of what I learn in school.
Dr. Bob - What do you do when you are tasked with taking care of clients?
Prof - Well, that's definitely something that might happen.
Dr. Bob - I mean what do you do when your client is the big Texan who's just finished his big oil deal and now wants to have a good time? Like a really good time?? Like he wants drink, drugs and a hooker?
Prof (with a totally straight face) - Well there are certain ethical obligations that we have, and I would not recommend going out and procuring the drugs or the prostitute yourself. Hmm...but I imagine the big Texan is staying in a hotel? And probably a nice hotel, right? Well, what I would do is take Mr. Oilman back to his hotel, and, with some discretion, take him to the concierge and say, "Mr. Concierge, this is Mr. Oilman. Mr. Oilman is looking for some companionship tonight, do you think that might be something you might be able to help him out with?" Delegation is an important skill to learn...And now it's not your problem any more!
Ah so...lesson learned.
Had my night class tonight. The class is taught by two boisterous, feisty lawyers. At the end of our weekly 3 hour class they always do a bit that they call Coaches Corner. The premise of this bit is that they will tell us things that they wished they knew as articling students and junior lawyers. Today the topic was: Tasks You Might Be Asked To Do As An Articling Student. And what followed was the laundry list of taking minutes at meetings and picking up drycleaning and ordering booze for the Friday afternoon impromtu parties. And then Dr. "Bob" of previous posts raised his hand and asked the profs what the best way to handle a certain delicate situation. What follows is an approximate recitation of the exchange between them, and an interesting example of what I learn in school.
Dr. Bob - What do you do when you are tasked with taking care of clients?
Prof - Well, that's definitely something that might happen.
Dr. Bob - I mean what do you do when your client is the big Texan who's just finished his big oil deal and now wants to have a good time? Like a really good time?? Like he wants drink, drugs and a hooker?
Prof (with a totally straight face) - Well there are certain ethical obligations that we have, and I would not recommend going out and procuring the drugs or the prostitute yourself. Hmm...but I imagine the big Texan is staying in a hotel? And probably a nice hotel, right? Well, what I would do is take Mr. Oilman back to his hotel, and, with some discretion, take him to the concierge and say, "Mr. Concierge, this is Mr. Oilman. Mr. Oilman is looking for some companionship tonight, do you think that might be something you might be able to help him out with?" Delegation is an important skill to learn...And now it's not your problem any more!
Ah so...lesson learned.
Monday, September 24, 2007
A Lesson Learned, a Mistake Repeated?
After my post on Saturday I went out to "the farm" (the one of past posts; the source of, at times, both great delight and my utter undoing; a location in which I always manage to try something new). This weekend was not to disappoint. New things I tried: 1) laying laminate click flooring, 2) using a table saw, 3) eating pig that had been roasted on a spit (they roasted the whole thing: ears, nose, eyes, feet and all), 4) drinking 50 proof Slovakian plum brandy, 5) kissing a Slovak (the one who provided the aforementioned plum brandy). I blame the last item on my farm-owning friend who has decided that the best way to get me to abandon my plan to move back to Vancouver and stay in Alberta is to marry me off to said Slovak and have me making babies with him before the year is out. She says this out loud, too...to just about anyone who will listen. It's not going to happen, I tell her. But he's pretty cute: tall, blond, sexy accent, handy...he taught me how to use a nail gun this weekend...it's not like I'm torturing myself to play with him a bit.
And what of the lesson learned? One of my closest friends is going through a rough time with her boyfriend right now. Between me and those who read this, I think he is no where near good enough for her. I think he is a user and a cheater and a loser in general. She has helped him turn his life around in innumerable ways - not the least of which includes sinking thousands of dollars into fixing his house (not improving it, mind you, but things like paying off outstanding bills to the gas, phone and water company so they will resume service) and fixing his life (things like paying off his criminal AND family lawyers who a) helped him avoid conviction on criminal offences, and b) helped him deal with the totally crazy mother of his child who intentionally got pregnant while telling him she was on the pill. This woman is the most despicable, vile creature I have ever come across in my life. My opinion of her is formed almost entirely (I've only met her once for about 5 minutes) on the negligent and unfit way in which she parents her son which begins with the fact that her son has symptoms of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder and degenerates from there.) This situation does not get better...I could go on for hours about the "virtues" which are this guy. But here's the problem: she sees potential in him and up until recently, I saw what she saw. I truly did. And then I came into a series of pieces of information that indicated he was cheating on her. And I believe the information to be true. After all that she has done for him... I firmly believe that if it wasn't for my friend he would be or would soon be incarcerated - this was the way his life was headed. After all she has done for him, he cheats on her. I am beside myself with anger and spite and vengefulness, on behalf of my friend. But the thing is that I remembered prior incidents with two of my friends and I remembered that this is her life and not mine. And my role is to be the friend and not the judge.
With deference to the lesson learned back in undergrad, I told her what I knew. Circumstantial, whatever, I told her what I knew. To do otherwise would have been a betrayal. But with deference to the lesson learned a few years ago, I gave her the information without judgment. I held my tongue about what I thought of him. To do otherwise would have alienated her. To do either of those things at a time when she needs a trustworthy confidant would have made me a bad friend. Because she is going to do what she is going to do. And she is going to believe what she is going to believe. And she is going to forgive what she is going to forgive. And one of two things is going to happen: they are going to stay together forever or she is going to get up the courage to leave him. And in either of those situations, the knowledge that I loathe him is not going to help her. Had I expressed my opinion, and then had she chosen to stay with him (which is a decision she would have made regardless of what I thought) my disapproval would have cut off the lines of communication between us. And she did decide to stay with him in this circumstance. But she needs me to stand by her, not in judgment of her...that is my role right now.
In what could prove to be a very bad decision, I have accepted an invitation to the fights on Friday night from my ex. He of the farm from last year; he of the still occasional inappropriate text message. I have decided that seeing as his presence in my life is unavoidable, I am determined to make it work...and in order to see that happen, I have begun to deal with his inappropriate comments and innuendo with violence or the threat of violence. He makes a suggestive comment and I slug him one in the gut. It worked this weekend, and by worked I mean it was a mutually agreeable resolution to the problem and by mutually agreeable I mean that I suspect it turns him on, but it makes me feel like my point is being made. We each win in our own ways. Anyways, I've totally digressed. There's a professional boxing event in town on friday and he bought a table and I've never watched professional boxing and so I accepted. The fact that the Slovak is going to be there (because they are friends, how cozy is that?) may or may not have influenced my acceptance of the invitation. For the record, my ex knows of the current situation with the Slovak...he was there this weekend. Also, for the record, I took the gold, slinky, must-be-taped-on, neck-line-down-to-the-navel shirt to the dry cleaner today. I've decided I don't feel like playing fair.
In true when-it-rains-it-pours fashion, the Slovak is not the only man in my life right now. There's also the - wait for it - 20 year old Newfie with the scar on his cheek, the kissable lips, and the amazingly sexy back, artfully covered in tattoos. He's the kind that's not really much for the words, but has this totally smouldering look in his eyes. But, that's right...he's 20. T-w-e-n-t-y. To add a little complication to the matter, I'm going to see Coach from last year on Saturday night. This was my rugby coach from last year that I had a fling with and, well, it's rugby season again...And what of the lesson learned? One of my closest friends is going through a rough time with her boyfriend right now. Between me and those who read this, I think he is no where near good enough for her. I think he is a user and a cheater and a loser in general. She has helped him turn his life around in innumerable ways - not the least of which includes sinking thousands of dollars into fixing his house (not improving it, mind you, but things like paying off outstanding bills to the gas, phone and water company so they will resume service) and fixing his life (things like paying off his criminal AND family lawyers who a) helped him avoid conviction on criminal offences, and b) helped him deal with the totally crazy mother of his child who intentionally got pregnant while telling him she was on the pill. This woman is the most despicable, vile creature I have ever come across in my life. My opinion of her is formed almost entirely (I've only met her once for about 5 minutes) on the negligent and unfit way in which she parents her son which begins with the fact that her son has symptoms of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder and degenerates from there.) This situation does not get better...I could go on for hours about the "virtues" which are this guy. But here's the problem: she sees potential in him and up until recently, I saw what she saw. I truly did. And then I came into a series of pieces of information that indicated he was cheating on her. And I believe the information to be true. After all that she has done for him... I firmly believe that if it wasn't for my friend he would be or would soon be incarcerated - this was the way his life was headed. After all she has done for him, he cheats on her. I am beside myself with anger and spite and vengefulness, on behalf of my friend. But the thing is that I remembered prior incidents with two of my friends and I remembered that this is her life and not mine. And my role is to be the friend and not the judge.
With deference to the lesson learned back in undergrad, I told her what I knew. Circumstantial, whatever, I told her what I knew. To do otherwise would have been a betrayal. But with deference to the lesson learned a few years ago, I gave her the information without judgment. I held my tongue about what I thought of him. To do otherwise would have alienated her. To do either of those things at a time when she needs a trustworthy confidant would have made me a bad friend. Because she is going to do what she is going to do. And she is going to believe what she is going to believe. And she is going to forgive what she is going to forgive. And one of two things is going to happen: they are going to stay together forever or she is going to get up the courage to leave him. And in either of those situations, the knowledge that I loathe him is not going to help her. Had I expressed my opinion, and then had she chosen to stay with him (which is a decision she would have made regardless of what I thought) my disapproval would have cut off the lines of communication between us. And she did decide to stay with him in this circumstance. But she needs me to stand by her, not in judgment of her...that is my role right now.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Atonement
One of the hardest things about getting back into blogging is introspection. I know I have these inward thoughts about the world but I've gotten out of the habit of noting them for future writing topics. So I sit down to write and all that comes to mind is, "Dear diary, this morning I had bran flakes for breakfast." Bleh.
Was out last night with some friends and committed a cardinal sin against one of my best friends. Blame it on the alchohol or my current pattern of recklessness or whatever but I remember doing it...even if no one else does. I spilled the beans; I spread the gossip; I told the secrets. I did it; I knew I was doing it; I was unable to refrain. Fortunately, after discretely poking around for information from the individual privy to my outburst, he has no recollection of this at all and so I am fairly certain there will be no reprocussions and the secret remains safe.
But this is troubling to me for several reasons. I admit that I like the gossip. I like to be the one in the know. I like to have more information that I can use however I like and I admit that this makes me a pretty good manipulator. However, I also am fiercely loyal to my friends. I love them like family and (at the risk of sounding dramatic) I would rather cut off my arm than betray a confidence. So what happened last night? Part of me thinks that even though my indiscretion was caught by the safety net of a vague statement, a loud bar, and a glaze of alcohol, I should confess my sin nevertheless. Does the consequence or lack of consequence change the fact that I betrayed my friend?? Wasn't my intention the most troublesome part?
I have been increasingly upset with this friend over the last few weeks. We haven't fought, this person hasn't done anything to me per se. But it's little things that I've overheard...things I have observed things that are making me wonder if this is the person I know and love. I think I'm frustrated because I don't feel entitled to bring this up. It really doesn't have anything to do with me. But I'm disappointed nevertheless. As irrational as this sounds, it sort of feels like betrayal. I suspect that my sin last night was an irrational strike at my friend. Totally ineffective and unfair because this person doesn't even know that I'm upset. And I think that regardless of the outcome of last night, the fact that I even went there necessitates a conversation.
Was out last night with some friends and committed a cardinal sin against one of my best friends. Blame it on the alchohol or my current pattern of recklessness or whatever but I remember doing it...even if no one else does. I spilled the beans; I spread the gossip; I told the secrets. I did it; I knew I was doing it; I was unable to refrain. Fortunately, after discretely poking around for information from the individual privy to my outburst, he has no recollection of this at all and so I am fairly certain there will be no reprocussions and the secret remains safe.
But this is troubling to me for several reasons. I admit that I like the gossip. I like to be the one in the know. I like to have more information that I can use however I like and I admit that this makes me a pretty good manipulator. However, I also am fiercely loyal to my friends. I love them like family and (at the risk of sounding dramatic) I would rather cut off my arm than betray a confidence. So what happened last night? Part of me thinks that even though my indiscretion was caught by the safety net of a vague statement, a loud bar, and a glaze of alcohol, I should confess my sin nevertheless. Does the consequence or lack of consequence change the fact that I betrayed my friend?? Wasn't my intention the most troublesome part?
I have been increasingly upset with this friend over the last few weeks. We haven't fought, this person hasn't done anything to me per se. But it's little things that I've overheard...things I have observed things that are making me wonder if this is the person I know and love. I think I'm frustrated because I don't feel entitled to bring this up. It really doesn't have anything to do with me. But I'm disappointed nevertheless. As irrational as this sounds, it sort of feels like betrayal. I suspect that my sin last night was an irrational strike at my friend. Totally ineffective and unfair because this person doesn't even know that I'm upset. And I think that regardless of the outcome of last night, the fact that I even went there necessitates a conversation.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Forbidden From Saying "No"
First of all...I have to say that I'd just about given up on the blogging thing. Summer was too long and too short all at the same time...too long stressing about jobs and life and the direction both were taking...and once everything had resolved itself and I could relax there was hardly any time left. I felt uninspired. And then back to school and utter chaos and I thought maybe I just wouldn't come back to this.
But then today, while cleaning my apartment, I discovered a Christmas gift from my sister. She had taken her favorites of my posts from the previous year and bound them with a foreward that she had written herself. So I curled up with a cup of tea and read them and they made me laugh and cry and remember and wish I could forget all at the same time. And I realized the original reasons that I started to write here - catharsis and memoir. And so I'm back.
School has started...and it will be my last EVER year of school. This is a bizarre feeling for me. I have completed programs, obtained a diploma and a degree. But in each of those experiences of finality, I never really felt like it was the end. I didn't go to my McGill graduation. Part of the reason was that I had just started a new job and an important program was rolling out that weekend...but had it really been important to me, I could have manipulated things. The real reasons for my ambivalence were 1) I truly felt like I did not deserve that degree due to my mediocre effort and performance, and 2) I knew, in my heart of hearts, that it would not be the end of my formal education.
But this time it is different. I joke with my family that I'm going to go to medical school next but the truth of the matter is that I have my career now. I have obtained an article with a fantastic firm, far beyond my wildest dreams, in Vancouver and I will (with a little bit of luck and barring anything catastrophic) be a lawyer. I suppose that I could go for a Masters in Law...but really, unless I want to be a professor...this is not a necessary nor important degree to get. And so this is it. This is my last year in school. The last of almost 20 full years. Wow...
In an effort to maximize my experience and have no regrets my new rule this year is to not say "no." If I am asked to participate, help out, volunteer, try something out...then I'm gonna do it. Already this has found me with an injury from a baseball tournament (a very large and colourful bruise from a line drive that hit me while pitching), on an executive board (of a wine tasting club no less), on an ice hockey team (first time skating without a toe pick...I'm very anxious about this) and with a commitment to man a BBQ on Friday (fingers crossed that no one gets food poisoning). I think it's shaping up to be a fantastic, albeit incredibly busy, year. Hopefully one not to forget!
But then today, while cleaning my apartment, I discovered a Christmas gift from my sister. She had taken her favorites of my posts from the previous year and bound them with a foreward that she had written herself. So I curled up with a cup of tea and read them and they made me laugh and cry and remember and wish I could forget all at the same time. And I realized the original reasons that I started to write here - catharsis and memoir. And so I'm back.
School has started...and it will be my last EVER year of school. This is a bizarre feeling for me. I have completed programs, obtained a diploma and a degree. But in each of those experiences of finality, I never really felt like it was the end. I didn't go to my McGill graduation. Part of the reason was that I had just started a new job and an important program was rolling out that weekend...but had it really been important to me, I could have manipulated things. The real reasons for my ambivalence were 1) I truly felt like I did not deserve that degree due to my mediocre effort and performance, and 2) I knew, in my heart of hearts, that it would not be the end of my formal education.
But this time it is different. I joke with my family that I'm going to go to medical school next but the truth of the matter is that I have my career now. I have obtained an article with a fantastic firm, far beyond my wildest dreams, in Vancouver and I will (with a little bit of luck and barring anything catastrophic) be a lawyer. I suppose that I could go for a Masters in Law...but really, unless I want to be a professor...this is not a necessary nor important degree to get. And so this is it. This is my last year in school. The last of almost 20 full years. Wow...
In an effort to maximize my experience and have no regrets my new rule this year is to not say "no." If I am asked to participate, help out, volunteer, try something out...then I'm gonna do it. Already this has found me with an injury from a baseball tournament (a very large and colourful bruise from a line drive that hit me while pitching), on an executive board (of a wine tasting club no less), on an ice hockey team (first time skating without a toe pick...I'm very anxious about this) and with a commitment to man a BBQ on Friday (fingers crossed that no one gets food poisoning). I think it's shaping up to be a fantastic, albeit incredibly busy, year. Hopefully one not to forget!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I'm bailing out and going back to Vancouver for the summer. Lots of reasons why...some reasonable...some fearful...some irrational...some intelligent. But the fact remains...I am going back to Vancouver for the summer.
On another note...I've been undertaking an overhaul of my music catalogue lately...inspired by Rolling Stone's list of the top 500 songs of all time. I agree with a lot of their choices...but am baffled by others. They've chosen things I completely disagree with and have omitted things that I would have included.
The Beatles are, by far, the most often included group in the list...close to 20 entries. And it inspired me to check out which Beatles wrote which songs. I've come to realize that Harrison wrote the songs of which I have the strongest opinions. I just don't understand and sort of cringe when I hear some of his music...stuff like Blue Jay Way. But on the other hand...the songs that I love...just love are also mostly written by him: Here Comes The Sun, Something, and While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
On another note...I've been undertaking an overhaul of my music catalogue lately...inspired by Rolling Stone's list of the top 500 songs of all time. I agree with a lot of their choices...but am baffled by others. They've chosen things I completely disagree with and have omitted things that I would have included.
The Beatles are, by far, the most often included group in the list...close to 20 entries. And it inspired me to check out which Beatles wrote which songs. I've come to realize that Harrison wrote the songs of which I have the strongest opinions. I just don't understand and sort of cringe when I hear some of his music...stuff like Blue Jay Way. But on the other hand...the songs that I love...just love are also mostly written by him: Here Comes The Sun, Something, and While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Attack of the Blood Sucking Viral Vectors
AKA mosquitoes. Yesterday was a beautiful beautiful day: 26 degrees. And then we had a thunderstorm...which is great, one of my favorite things about the summer...but literally the bugs just swarmed afterwards. Supposedly we are supposed to have a bad bug summer...lots of scientific data on why and how and where and when. I'm not so concerned...what I am concerned about is how I can keep them out of my house (no screens on the windows)
Travelling in Asia, you absolutely must have a mosquito net. When I was living in China, I slept under one the entire time I was there. (Kind gave me a sense of security about the cochroaches and 8 foot wide spiders) There is nothing worse to the attempting-to-sleep-er, than the droning, high pitched whine of mosquitoes as they buzz about your head. One night, in India, I attempted to sleep without a net, and I seriously wanted to put a stick in my eye. I think it would make a very effective form of torture. I don't know if it is the lack of sleep, or something inherent in the sound...but I don't think I have ever been so utterly unhinged. And they're clever too...should you decided to put up with the insufferable heat, and pull the covers over your head in an attempt to avoid them, they WILL find a way in...through the smallest crack, the tiniest hole, they will force their way in and then it will be you and them under the covers and now not only are you suffering from a lack of sleep, sweating like a stuck pig, but now you are claustrophobic as well. Seriously, this is hysteria inducing stuff. But then I've been told that I can be a little dramatic at times.
Occasionally I would wake up and about three feet above my face, wrestling the net with futility, would be sometimes in excess of 50 mosquitoes. But three feet away is far enough to escape the sound of the droning. It just always amazed me that they would be concentrated over my face like that. I wonder if they are attracted to the heat - perhaps my breath.
So we're all supposed to be worried about West Nile now, right? I don't know...I mean I'm not going to go out and look for mosquitoes to suck my blood...but in all honesty, it has more to do with the fact that I can't stand to be itchy, rather than fear of West Nile. Go to Asia...they've got malaria (which never really scared me...other then the fact that you carry it around with you for life. I had drugs which gave me an admittedly false sense of security, but one nevertheless), and Dengue Fever.
Now Dengue Fever...that scared me to bits. You know what the popular term for Dengue is? Break Bone Fever, or the Bonecrusher Disease. Ok, now, before I knew anything about this disease, I knew I did not ever want to get it. You want to scare someone into prophylactic measures...tell them that if they don't, they're gonna get something called The Bonecrusher. All I can think of when I hear that is pain, and a lot of it. The kind of pain that accompanies a trip to a medieval torture chamber. The disease was nicknamed due to the severe muscle and joint pain and cramping that accompanies. The word "Dengue" is a Spanish adulteration of the Swahili phrase, "ki denga pepo," which means - get this - "cramp like seizure caused by an evil spirit." So having Dengue is like being possessed...man, this just gets better and better.
Or if you get the rare and agressive version - Dengue Hemhorrhagic Fever...ai ya. Wikipedia describes the symptoms as: higher fever, haemorrhagic phenomena, thrombocytopenia and haemoconcentration. Now I don't know what a lot of that is (but it sure as hell sounds scary), and what I do know is that that the phenomena of which they speak includes bleeding from the gums...and maybe the eyes, and the ears. And then you can go into shock and die. And you know how they treat it - fluids. Drink lots of fluids. That's all they've got. And avoid taking aspirin. That's great...gives me lots of confidence. If you start bleeding out through your gums, they can give you a platelet transfer, but let's be real...you're pretty much done for by that point.
Oi...and if this isn't mood lifting at all...apparently there is a global outbreak about once every five years. In 2002, there was an outbreak where 1 million people were affected in Rio de Janeiro alone. So every five years, would bring us to....this year. Great.
Anyways, my only point is that West Nile virus is a pussy cat compared to some of the crazy stuff out there. And speaking of pussy cats...the one good thing about the recent swarms of bugs, is that Charlie is completely entertained in her futile effort to catch them. Although she is starting to climb things and leap from things in her efforts and I'm starting to worry that she might knock over a bookcase in her earnestness.
Travelling in Asia, you absolutely must have a mosquito net. When I was living in China, I slept under one the entire time I was there. (Kind gave me a sense of security about the cochroaches and 8 foot wide spiders) There is nothing worse to the attempting-to-sleep-er, than the droning, high pitched whine of mosquitoes as they buzz about your head. One night, in India, I attempted to sleep without a net, and I seriously wanted to put a stick in my eye. I think it would make a very effective form of torture. I don't know if it is the lack of sleep, or something inherent in the sound...but I don't think I have ever been so utterly unhinged. And they're clever too...should you decided to put up with the insufferable heat, and pull the covers over your head in an attempt to avoid them, they WILL find a way in...through the smallest crack, the tiniest hole, they will force their way in and then it will be you and them under the covers and now not only are you suffering from a lack of sleep, sweating like a stuck pig, but now you are claustrophobic as well. Seriously, this is hysteria inducing stuff. But then I've been told that I can be a little dramatic at times.
Occasionally I would wake up and about three feet above my face, wrestling the net with futility, would be sometimes in excess of 50 mosquitoes. But three feet away is far enough to escape the sound of the droning. It just always amazed me that they would be concentrated over my face like that. I wonder if they are attracted to the heat - perhaps my breath.
So we're all supposed to be worried about West Nile now, right? I don't know...I mean I'm not going to go out and look for mosquitoes to suck my blood...but in all honesty, it has more to do with the fact that I can't stand to be itchy, rather than fear of West Nile. Go to Asia...they've got malaria (which never really scared me...other then the fact that you carry it around with you for life. I had drugs which gave me an admittedly false sense of security, but one nevertheless), and Dengue Fever.
Now Dengue Fever...that scared me to bits. You know what the popular term for Dengue is? Break Bone Fever, or the Bonecrusher Disease. Ok, now, before I knew anything about this disease, I knew I did not ever want to get it. You want to scare someone into prophylactic measures...tell them that if they don't, they're gonna get something called The Bonecrusher. All I can think of when I hear that is pain, and a lot of it. The kind of pain that accompanies a trip to a medieval torture chamber. The disease was nicknamed due to the severe muscle and joint pain and cramping that accompanies. The word "Dengue" is a Spanish adulteration of the Swahili phrase, "ki denga pepo," which means - get this - "cramp like seizure caused by an evil spirit." So having Dengue is like being possessed...man, this just gets better and better.
Or if you get the rare and agressive version - Dengue Hemhorrhagic Fever...ai ya. Wikipedia describes the symptoms as: higher fever, haemorrhagic phenomena, thrombocytopenia and haemoconcentration. Now I don't know what a lot of that is (but it sure as hell sounds scary), and what I do know is that that the phenomena of which they speak includes bleeding from the gums...and maybe the eyes, and the ears. And then you can go into shock and die. And you know how they treat it - fluids. Drink lots of fluids. That's all they've got. And avoid taking aspirin. That's great...gives me lots of confidence. If you start bleeding out through your gums, they can give you a platelet transfer, but let's be real...you're pretty much done for by that point.
Oi...and if this isn't mood lifting at all...apparently there is a global outbreak about once every five years. In 2002, there was an outbreak where 1 million people were affected in Rio de Janeiro alone. So every five years, would bring us to....this year. Great.
Anyways, my only point is that West Nile virus is a pussy cat compared to some of the crazy stuff out there. And speaking of pussy cats...the one good thing about the recent swarms of bugs, is that Charlie is completely entertained in her futile effort to catch them. Although she is starting to climb things and leap from things in her efforts and I'm starting to worry that she might knock over a bookcase in her earnestness.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
The Spirite Lounge
My mind is in the world of vegetarianism lately and I've been reminded, with extreme fondness, of The Spirite Lounge, on Rue Ontario in Montreal's Gay Village.
If you are ever in Montreal, be sure to make reservations because this place is so quintessentially Secret Montreal...it's phenomenal. They sort of follow the same schtick as The Elbow Room on Davie in Vancouver...a dining experience with a side of arrogance and no room for patronizing the guests. But the food is much more gourmet - vegetarian, organic, table d'hote and so creative, you'll scratch your head in wonder. Sorbets, salads, soups, crepes and I've never had something there I didn't like. But check your sensibilities at the door and be prepared for a boisterous evening sparring with the owner (who often has his hair slicked into devil's horns) admist an atmosphere of tinfoil-cum-wall paper, mirrors and leopard print.
The place is run by two men: Patrice and Roz-Man - one cooks, one serves the food, and the attitude. Rumor has it that one guest had his cell phone unceremoniously dunked in his water glass when it rang and was answered in the dining area. Hey...fair warning, there are large signs at the door declaring the cell phone ban.
The rules are that you must clean your plate (they offer different sized portions), and if you don't they charge you an extra $2 (which they match and contribute to a local charity), and you can't have dessert. If you do order dessert (usually a flourless, delicious chocolate something with sorbet), and don't finish it...you're banned for life.
I've never seen anyone not finish their dessert.
Oh! I urge you to go...it's just fabulous.
If you are ever in Montreal, be sure to make reservations because this place is so quintessentially Secret Montreal...it's phenomenal. They sort of follow the same schtick as The Elbow Room on Davie in Vancouver...a dining experience with a side of arrogance and no room for patronizing the guests. But the food is much more gourmet - vegetarian, organic, table d'hote and so creative, you'll scratch your head in wonder. Sorbets, salads, soups, crepes and I've never had something there I didn't like. But check your sensibilities at the door and be prepared for a boisterous evening sparring with the owner (who often has his hair slicked into devil's horns) admist an atmosphere of tinfoil-cum-wall paper, mirrors and leopard print.
The place is run by two men: Patrice and Roz-Man - one cooks, one serves the food, and the attitude. Rumor has it that one guest had his cell phone unceremoniously dunked in his water glass when it rang and was answered in the dining area. Hey...fair warning, there are large signs at the door declaring the cell phone ban.
The rules are that you must clean your plate (they offer different sized portions), and if you don't they charge you an extra $2 (which they match and contribute to a local charity), and you can't have dessert. If you do order dessert (usually a flourless, delicious chocolate something with sorbet), and don't finish it...you're banned for life.
I've never seen anyone not finish their dessert.
Oh! I urge you to go...it's just fabulous.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Good tasting fake meat?
I eat a lot of vegetarian food. I would not classify myself as a vegetarian, per se. I like a big slab of cow too much...and cutting into the Thanksgiving zucchini just doesn't have the same appeal. But for health reasons, environmental reasons and economic reasons I eat a lot of vegetarian food. That, and I just plain enjoy it. With the exception (until today ) of fake meat. It just had a wierd almost gag inducing texture and flavour.
Veggie burgers...for sure...but the grain kind (or my all time favourite - the Money's mushroom burger (a BC company...I haven't seen the burgers in years (in truth, I haven't really looked)...but made almost entirely of mushrooms and soooo damn good). Tofu...excellent...I truly came to love it after living in China. Now I'll even eat, and enjoy, a slice of it, raw. Tahini, nuts, veggies of all kinds, whole grains, you name it. But I avoided fake meat like the plague.
There's this vegetarian restaurant at a monastary in Hong Kong (I forget the name but it's at the site of the world's largest bronze buddha or something like that), in the islands. And they do a fake chicken that is totally delicious...so I know it can be done.
Then a friend of mine (not vegetarian FJ) suggested I try veggie ground round. She adds them to chili or spaghetti sauce. And so I did. I just pulled a bag of tomato sauce out of the freezer, sauteed some mushrooms and a half a pack of this stuff. And it's good...it's really really good. The texture, the taste, the consistency. I am a total convert.
I have two different varieties right now...one, Yves Veggie Cuisine, I have yet to try. But the other is from Superstore's new Blue Menu. I'm totally impressed with this line - a range of products that are lower in fat and calories. And cheap...this product was less than $2.50. And it will last for at least 2 recipes (a good 4 meals). Perfect!
Veggie burgers...for sure...but the grain kind (or my all time favourite - the Money's mushroom burger (a BC company...I haven't seen the burgers in years (in truth, I haven't really looked)...but made almost entirely of mushrooms and soooo damn good). Tofu...excellent...I truly came to love it after living in China. Now I'll even eat, and enjoy, a slice of it, raw. Tahini, nuts, veggies of all kinds, whole grains, you name it. But I avoided fake meat like the plague.
There's this vegetarian restaurant at a monastary in Hong Kong (I forget the name but it's at the site of the world's largest bronze buddha or something like that), in the islands. And they do a fake chicken that is totally delicious...so I know it can be done.
Then a friend of mine (not vegetarian FJ) suggested I try veggie ground round. She adds them to chili or spaghetti sauce. And so I did. I just pulled a bag of tomato sauce out of the freezer, sauteed some mushrooms and a half a pack of this stuff. And it's good...it's really really good. The texture, the taste, the consistency. I am a total convert.
I have two different varieties right now...one, Yves Veggie Cuisine, I have yet to try. But the other is from Superstore's new Blue Menu. I'm totally impressed with this line - a range of products that are lower in fat and calories. And cheap...this product was less than $2.50. And it will last for at least 2 recipes (a good 4 meals). Perfect!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Happy Trails To You
Friend J (who from here on in will be referred to FJ) and I went horseback riding today. It's been years since I've been on a horse. When I was a kid I used to ride all the time (albeit English, not Western). My first job, actually, was mucking out horse stalls. I had (well, leased) a bunch of horses in my riding years, but my favorite was Aspen. She was a beautiful bay colored thoroughbred mare who loved to jump. She also had asthma. This didn't stop her, though the first time I pressed her into a canter, she just about pulled me right over her head with her hacking coughs. As I got to know her better, I learned to anticipate her coughs, and loosed the reins in time, and it became one of my favorite quirks about her. Man, I loved that horse.
But anyways, I digress. FJ picked me up this morning and we drove out of the city into the country towards this stable. It was in the outskirts of this little town called Gibbons about 45 minutes north of the city. The town has a population of about 2500 people with twice as many hair salons as there are restaurants. Apparently the town was started by a pioneer family, named Gibbons, who settled the area in 1889. I had a look at the town web site. One thing of note...there's a lot of people in the town whose last name is still Gibbons. I guess people don't tend to move far away from home. The town was one of the first stops on the Athabasca Landing Trail - one of the well trodden fur trade routes utilized by the Hudson's Bay Company around the turn of the century.
We rode for about 2 hours in the valley of the Sturgeon River. It was a nice ride - not enough running to thoroughly satisfy me, but it was soothing. I love the smell of horses, as only someone who grew up around them can. I said this to FJ and she said, "yeah, like oats and shit." OK, point taken, but also like grass, and dust and like horses. I have to say though, that area is so ugly...so flat...so brown...so barren. I'm just on an I-am-dissatisfied-with-Alberta kick right now, and pining for the beauty of Vancouver.
After our ride, we decided to drive into town to grab a bite to eat before heading back to the city. We pulled into Sal's - home of the famous gourmet burgers. And as we're walking up to the door, I nudged FJ, "What do you think the chances are they have a vegetarian-friendly menu?" Sure enough, the menu is predominantly meat - burgers, and pizza and pasta. I order a mushroom burger, thinking about the promised fame of these burgers that I had read on the window. And for FJ we try several options. FJ: "I'd like the fish and chips," waitress: "We're out of fish," FJ: "OK, what about your pasta sauces, do they have meat in them," waitress: "Of course", Me: "What about the Chicken Club Pita, Can you do the pita without the meat", waitress: blank stare, me: "I assume there are veggies on the pita as well - lettuce, tomato - could you just do a veggie pita", waitress: "I don't know", me: "Ok, is there anything on the menu that does not have meat in it?," waitress: "well, no - it's all burgers 'n stuff," FJ: "Ok, I'll have a cheese pizza," waitress: looks at us as if we have a screw loose or something, "D'ya want drinks with that?", FJ: "a 7-up", Me: look in the cooler, not a single sugar free soda...it's all full sugar, "I'll have a coffee"
Oh, and then the food arrived, and let me tell you - famous...not quite...more like infamous. I swear that they took a single mushroom, cut it up and cooked it, and then dumped an entire can of mushroom soup on the burger, and slapped it on a cold un-toasted bun. Oh it was gross. I tried scraping the soup off...I tried eating the patty alone (totally tasteless). In the end, I wound up abandoning the burger and having a slice of cheese pizza...which...truth be told, had a great crust.
We decided that it was time to head back to the city. It's not all small towns that I dislike...some are just lovely. But this one...hmmmm. I'm not sure I ever have a reason to go back and I'm not sure I ever want to have a reason to go back.
But anyways, I digress. FJ picked me up this morning and we drove out of the city into the country towards this stable. It was in the outskirts of this little town called Gibbons about 45 minutes north of the city. The town has a population of about 2500 people with twice as many hair salons as there are restaurants. Apparently the town was started by a pioneer family, named Gibbons, who settled the area in 1889. I had a look at the town web site. One thing of note...there's a lot of people in the town whose last name is still Gibbons. I guess people don't tend to move far away from home. The town was one of the first stops on the Athabasca Landing Trail - one of the well trodden fur trade routes utilized by the Hudson's Bay Company around the turn of the century.
We rode for about 2 hours in the valley of the Sturgeon River. It was a nice ride - not enough running to thoroughly satisfy me, but it was soothing. I love the smell of horses, as only someone who grew up around them can. I said this to FJ and she said, "yeah, like oats and shit." OK, point taken, but also like grass, and dust and like horses. I have to say though, that area is so ugly...so flat...so brown...so barren. I'm just on an I-am-dissatisfied-with-Alberta kick right now, and pining for the beauty of Vancouver.
After our ride, we decided to drive into town to grab a bite to eat before heading back to the city. We pulled into Sal's - home of the famous gourmet burgers. And as we're walking up to the door, I nudged FJ, "What do you think the chances are they have a vegetarian-friendly menu?" Sure enough, the menu is predominantly meat - burgers, and pizza and pasta. I order a mushroom burger, thinking about the promised fame of these burgers that I had read on the window. And for FJ we try several options. FJ: "I'd like the fish and chips," waitress: "We're out of fish," FJ: "OK, what about your pasta sauces, do they have meat in them," waitress: "Of course", Me: "What about the Chicken Club Pita, Can you do the pita without the meat", waitress: blank stare, me: "I assume there are veggies on the pita as well - lettuce, tomato - could you just do a veggie pita", waitress: "I don't know", me: "Ok, is there anything on the menu that does not have meat in it?," waitress: "well, no - it's all burgers 'n stuff," FJ: "Ok, I'll have a cheese pizza," waitress: looks at us as if we have a screw loose or something, "D'ya want drinks with that?", FJ: "a 7-up", Me: look in the cooler, not a single sugar free soda...it's all full sugar, "I'll have a coffee"
Oh, and then the food arrived, and let me tell you - famous...not quite...more like infamous. I swear that they took a single mushroom, cut it up and cooked it, and then dumped an entire can of mushroom soup on the burger, and slapped it on a cold un-toasted bun. Oh it was gross. I tried scraping the soup off...I tried eating the patty alone (totally tasteless). In the end, I wound up abandoning the burger and having a slice of cheese pizza...which...truth be told, had a great crust.
We decided that it was time to head back to the city. It's not all small towns that I dislike...some are just lovely. But this one...hmmmm. I'm not sure I ever have a reason to go back and I'm not sure I ever want to have a reason to go back.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Very Nervous
I have a job interview this afternoon...I am very nervous about it. It's been quite a while since I've had one - over a year at least.
Deep breaths.
As an aside, I've just noticed that my last post was number 100. Hmm...yeah me. That's kind of exciting.
Deep breaths.
As an aside, I've just noticed that my last post was number 100. Hmm...yeah me. That's kind of exciting.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Something I've never seen before.
I was driving home from the Italian store yesterday - bought a big can of tomatoes to make my freezer stash of basic tomato sauce. And I was stopped at a light, there was no one else around and I was sort of gazing off into space. The light turned and I missed it. And this big van came up behind me and laid on the horn. I was shocked back into reality, and mighty miffed about the horn blast - a simple friendly beep would have sufficed - it's not like I was being irritating on purpose. And so I give my best take-it-easy wave and drive off.
At the next light the van pulled up next to me and then I realized why the urgency in the honk. It was a prisoner transport van. I've actually never seen one before, but the rear of it is comprised of individual cells, each with their own padlock. Not at all like the ones seen in hollywood movies. This design seems to make much more sense. And I suppose random junky cars (sorry Pedro, but a Porsche 911 you are not), stopped inconceivably at green lights, pose somewhat of a security threat. Hmmm..
At the next light the van pulled up next to me and then I realized why the urgency in the honk. It was a prisoner transport van. I've actually never seen one before, but the rear of it is comprised of individual cells, each with their own padlock. Not at all like the ones seen in hollywood movies. This design seems to make much more sense. And I suppose random junky cars (sorry Pedro, but a Porsche 911 you are not), stopped inconceivably at green lights, pose somewhat of a security threat. Hmmm..
Montreal - in her true and unique form.
Last Labour day weekend, I headed out East and spent a wonderful week in Montreal and New York. But one day in Montreal...in particular...was so perfectly quintessential...and reminded me exactly why I completely fell in love with the city.
Breakfast was at Fruit Folie - on St. Denis Street. Site of many post drinking binge 2 PM breakfasts because it was literally around the corner from good old 284 Pins. Home of the incredible fruit sculptures, the best eggs benny east of Vancouver, and a guaranteed-to-run-into-someone-you-know patio. Sure enough we are joined by the Seattle Marrieds who are conspicuously toting Everest expedition packs but that is another matter (just amusing trying to fit the packs onto the patio - crammed in between umbrellas and chairs).
After breakfast we decided to head out for a walk - we had some random, vague destinition in mind (I think we wanted to see my friend's lab)...but it was a hot summer day...no one was rushing to be anywhere. We head out across Carre St. Louis. I adore this inner city park...everything about it. It is sandwiched between St Denis street, and the pedestrian/BYOB section of Prince Arthur. It is small, perhaps only a block square and surrounded by the quintessential, colourful, picturesque Montreal walk-ups. There is a beautiful fountain at its center and a small gazebo-esque building that sells icecream in summer. I lived a block away from this park for 2 years. I have danced barefoot in the fountain during a torrential downpour, sprawled on the lawn countless times, have walked a dog around it even more. Every now and then, the Just for Laughs Gags are filmed in that park, which is always good for a laugh. But more frequently, the people in the park provide for even better entertainment. There's a guy who bathes in the fountain in neon pink bathing trunks, and another one with a crazy long beard who rides around on an adult-sized tricycle.
The best thing about this park is the random stuff that happens (truth be told, it's the best thing about Montreal, in general). And on this day, the random thing was an exibition of some sort of performing art group. At various places around the park there were groups of musicians, dancers, singers, performing for the entertainment of passers-by. And at the center of the park, in front of the fountain, was a sort of dance, performed to the music of a single flute. Perhaps it had a name, or perhaps not...I think it is probably most aptly referred to as, "the kiss." Because that is what it was.
Breakfast was at Fruit Folie - on St. Denis Street. Site of many post drinking binge 2 PM breakfasts because it was literally around the corner from good old 284 Pins. Home of the incredible fruit sculptures, the best eggs benny east of Vancouver, and a guaranteed-to-run-into-someone-you-know patio. Sure enough we are joined by the Seattle Marrieds who are conspicuously toting Everest expedition packs but that is another matter (just amusing trying to fit the packs onto the patio - crammed in between umbrellas and chairs).
After breakfast we decided to head out for a walk - we had some random, vague destinition in mind (I think we wanted to see my friend's lab)...but it was a hot summer day...no one was rushing to be anywhere. We head out across Carre St. Louis. I adore this inner city park...everything about it. It is sandwiched between St Denis street, and the pedestrian/BYOB section of Prince Arthur. It is small, perhaps only a block square and surrounded by the quintessential, colourful, picturesque Montreal walk-ups. There is a beautiful fountain at its center and a small gazebo-esque building that sells icecream in summer. I lived a block away from this park for 2 years. I have danced barefoot in the fountain during a torrential downpour, sprawled on the lawn countless times, have walked a dog around it even more. Every now and then, the Just for Laughs Gags are filmed in that park, which is always good for a laugh. But more frequently, the people in the park provide for even better entertainment. There's a guy who bathes in the fountain in neon pink bathing trunks, and another one with a crazy long beard who rides around on an adult-sized tricycle.
The best thing about this park is the random stuff that happens (truth be told, it's the best thing about Montreal, in general). And on this day, the random thing was an exibition of some sort of performing art group. At various places around the park there were groups of musicians, dancers, singers, performing for the entertainment of passers-by. And at the center of the park, in front of the fountain, was a sort of dance, performed to the music of a single flute. Perhaps it had a name, or perhaps not...I think it is probably most aptly referred to as, "the kiss." Because that is what it was.
I took dozens of photos...these are but five of my favorites. I'm considering blowing one up and hanging it in my house because I think that they are just so incredibly beautiful. Bear in mind that this was one long, uninterrupted kiss. The colours...the passion...and then the memory of the single flute playing. It was a very odd experience...and a very odd performance (I mean who thinks this stuff up anyways)...but the photos are just beautiful.
Afterwards we headed over to McGill through the Ghetto...to check out the lab of my friend in one of the ancient hospital buildings (I think it's the Duff building)...stopping on the way at garage sales and sorting through hundreds of old LPs for a dime a piece or some silly thing like that. and then we strolled down into the heart of the McGill campus. Ahh...this was home of OAP, the rumored home of the bones of James McGill (under the big statue in front of the arts building), the set of Battlefield Earth or whatever that Scientology movie was. Of the three university campuses I have spend oodles of time at, this is by far my favorite. There were frosh groups everywhere...drunk, chanting, shouting, half-naked...ahh...I remember it like it was yesterday. Harkened memories of my first visit to Peel pub.
And then we strolled down St. Catherine's street, stopping for Pho in a steaming soup kitchen. There was an International Film festival and banners everywhere, and then, we walked past something very interesting. A Graffiti Event (perhaps contest, or something similar). In an alleyway, just off St. Catherine's Street they had erected scaffolding and there were dozens of people with masks and aerosol cans, painting elaborate murals on the wall - graffiti style.
The art was really good, some of it exceptional even. This is the sort of thing you would never see in another city. Graffiti is generally considered to be pollution in other cities...but here, not only is it condoned, but celebrated. Just an interesting difference.
The day ended with drinks at a variety of bars on St. Denis, including the best summer time bar of ALL time - Saint Sulpice. This bar has the most enormous patio and is built in this lovely old house. Then we hiked back up the hill and got a mess of poutine at Lafleur's which we ate perched atop one of the statues in none other than Carre St. Louis.
And so, our loop through Montreal was complete - and I had spent another perfect, interesting, beezarre day in one of my favorite cities in the world.
The Life of the Unemployed.
School is over for the year...and I have yet to find a summer job. It's not as if I've been searching frantically...I've been sort of lackadaisical about it...enjoying my time off. Give me until next week and then I'll become frantic about the job search. But in the meantime...
I've been totally into the cooking thing. Last night I made the most sensational clean-out-the-fridge pasta sauce. I was inspired by this squid ink pasta that I picked up at the Italian store a little while ago. I've had squid ink pasta in restaurants before, and it has been paired with things like vodka or blue cheese. Ok, well fast forward...here's the recipe...no proportions cause, as I think I've mentioned before, my method of cooking is a-little-of-this-a-little-of-that.
- Saute chopped garlic in Olive oil (I would have added onions or shallots, but my friend, J, was over, and they make her sick), add a good handful of mushrooms (chopped)
- Add the end of a bottle of red wine that's been sitting on the top of your fridge for about a month, that you couldn't possibly drink any more.
- Add a good quantity of Vegetable stock (I probably would have used chicken stock, but friend, J, is a vegetarian (excepting fish), and so I keep veggie stock on hand)
- Bring to a boil.
- Crumble a handful of blue cheese that has been sitting in your fridge since the wine & cheese you hosted over a month ago.
- Open a can of tomatoes (one of the good and yet remarkably cheap italian brands from the Italian store - seriously...take the time to go and stock up once in awhile...your tastebuds will thank you for it). Take your chef's knife and run it through the tomatoes while still in the can...this gives the tomatoes a sort of rough chopped/crushed appearance and it's super quick. I added approximately half of the can to the pasta sauce.
- Add a big handful of shrimp (mine have the tail on...and are pretty big suckers, but I imagine this would work with scallops, or clams or even a firm white fish, or snapper or anything like that...maybe even chicken)
- Add skim milk until the sauce looks right (ideally this would be cream but this was a tuesday night dinner, not a special occasion, and therefore I could not justify the milk fat)
- Add salt to taste, and tons of pepper.
- The sauce was a little thin and so I made a roux (sp?) using corn starch. My godfather taught me how to make the world's best gravy and he swears by using corn starch instead of flour as a thickening agent - less lumpy. I suppose we could have let it simmer until it reduced, but it smelled so good, and the pasta was ready...which brings me to my final point
- Let simmer until the pasta is ready or you can wait no longer, which ever comes last. Toss the squid ink pasta in the sauce, serve in bowls. Top with fresh parsley or grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese. Take a bite, and let your eyes roll heavenward.
The knitting thing is going really well...I'm comfortable enough now with my samplers that I've embarked upon a project - a hat. I'm dropping stitches all over the place, and I highly doubt that it will be suitable to wear...but it's getting there.
I also found some pictures from a fantastic day I spent in Montreal last August...a true only-in-Montreal kind of day. I'm going to go fix them up a bit and post them. To be continued...
I've been totally into the cooking thing. Last night I made the most sensational clean-out-the-fridge pasta sauce. I was inspired by this squid ink pasta that I picked up at the Italian store a little while ago. I've had squid ink pasta in restaurants before, and it has been paired with things like vodka or blue cheese. Ok, well fast forward...here's the recipe...no proportions cause, as I think I've mentioned before, my method of cooking is a-little-of-this-a-little-of-that.
- Saute chopped garlic in Olive oil (I would have added onions or shallots, but my friend, J, was over, and they make her sick), add a good handful of mushrooms (chopped)
- Add the end of a bottle of red wine that's been sitting on the top of your fridge for about a month, that you couldn't possibly drink any more.
- Add a good quantity of Vegetable stock (I probably would have used chicken stock, but friend, J, is a vegetarian (excepting fish), and so I keep veggie stock on hand)
- Bring to a boil.
- Crumble a handful of blue cheese that has been sitting in your fridge since the wine & cheese you hosted over a month ago.
- Open a can of tomatoes (one of the good and yet remarkably cheap italian brands from the Italian store - seriously...take the time to go and stock up once in awhile...your tastebuds will thank you for it). Take your chef's knife and run it through the tomatoes while still in the can...this gives the tomatoes a sort of rough chopped/crushed appearance and it's super quick. I added approximately half of the can to the pasta sauce.
- Add a big handful of shrimp (mine have the tail on...and are pretty big suckers, but I imagine this would work with scallops, or clams or even a firm white fish, or snapper or anything like that...maybe even chicken)
- Add skim milk until the sauce looks right (ideally this would be cream but this was a tuesday night dinner, not a special occasion, and therefore I could not justify the milk fat)
- Add salt to taste, and tons of pepper.
- The sauce was a little thin and so I made a roux (sp?) using corn starch. My godfather taught me how to make the world's best gravy and he swears by using corn starch instead of flour as a thickening agent - less lumpy. I suppose we could have let it simmer until it reduced, but it smelled so good, and the pasta was ready...which brings me to my final point
- Let simmer until the pasta is ready or you can wait no longer, which ever comes last. Toss the squid ink pasta in the sauce, serve in bowls. Top with fresh parsley or grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese. Take a bite, and let your eyes roll heavenward.
The knitting thing is going really well...I'm comfortable enough now with my samplers that I've embarked upon a project - a hat. I'm dropping stitches all over the place, and I highly doubt that it will be suitable to wear...but it's getting there.
I also found some pictures from a fantastic day I spent in Montreal last August...a true only-in-Montreal kind of day. I'm going to go fix them up a bit and post them. To be continued...
Friday, May 04, 2007
It's not as if it was a halo
So I was just stalking on Facebook, and I came across some pictures of a group of guys and one of the guys was wearing a series of really really ugly ball caps. And my stomach lurched...for several reasons I think.
First of all, my ex wears super ugly ball caps. It was one of my biggest beefs with him. Seriously...I couldn't take him out anywhere because of these stupid caps that he used to wear. My dad...my dad is another one who insists on the hideous ball cap (Thankfully this has been tempered by my mother's influence, and he's only allowed to wear the truly ugly ones when he is working by himself on the boat). And this guy...in the facebook pictures...is another one. It's pervasive.
Seriously...why do they do this? I just don't understand. Do they honestly put the ball cap on, and look in the mirror and honestly honestly say to themselves, "damn, I look good." And then my personal favorite is when they are in dire need of a hair cut too, and so it sort of poufs out from below the band of the cap. That's a nice look.
And then the colours: orange, green, mustard yellow, multicolored, paint-stained. My ex has a dirty white cap with cherry red detailing and mesh back. Seriously what's with the mesh back. That part should be wholly discarded.
I just don't get it. I'm not averse to the baseball cap itself. I have several...I just don't understand why the ugly ones are favored and worn like a dirty, smelly, ugly, paintstained badge of pride and honor.
Anyways, I think I've beat this one to death.
First of all, my ex wears super ugly ball caps. It was one of my biggest beefs with him. Seriously...I couldn't take him out anywhere because of these stupid caps that he used to wear. My dad...my dad is another one who insists on the hideous ball cap (Thankfully this has been tempered by my mother's influence, and he's only allowed to wear the truly ugly ones when he is working by himself on the boat). And this guy...in the facebook pictures...is another one. It's pervasive.
Seriously...why do they do this? I just don't understand. Do they honestly put the ball cap on, and look in the mirror and honestly honestly say to themselves, "damn, I look good." And then my personal favorite is when they are in dire need of a hair cut too, and so it sort of poufs out from below the band of the cap. That's a nice look.
And then the colours: orange, green, mustard yellow, multicolored, paint-stained. My ex has a dirty white cap with cherry red detailing and mesh back. Seriously what's with the mesh back. That part should be wholly discarded.
I just don't get it. I'm not averse to the baseball cap itself. I have several...I just don't understand why the ugly ones are favored and worn like a dirty, smelly, ugly, paintstained badge of pride and honor.
Anyways, I think I've beat this one to death.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Long Time Gone
Exams ended a week ago today...but it always takes me some time to get back into the swing of the blog thing. I tend to feel overwhelmed by all the stuff that has happened in the interim and unable to compose a reasonable sized entry. And so I procrastinate...
Summer has now started, I have a to-do list a mile long and no job. I'm of mixed feelings. I need to make money...I can't just keep living on borrowed money, I need to start paying some of it back. That being said...assuming I get a job next year, I'll never have another opportunity to have such freedom...that kind of spare time. And so I procrastinate...
I've taken up knitting...as much as that makes me sound like a grandmother, but here's what I figure: When my friends start having babies, I want to be able to make cashmere blankets for them. I think that will be lovely...but a) cashmere is pricey stuff so I don't want to even consider it until I'm fairly good, and b) I want them to be lovely, not crappy, beautiful, not ugly. I don't give crappy gifts. All of this adds up to a lot of practice, and so I've taken up knitting.
Oh and I finally got my hands on a copy of Deliverance by James Dickey which I've wanted to read for awhile. I've known the Dueling Banjo music from the movie since I was a kid but never saw the movie, and was curious. I'm only about a quarter of the way in...but the book has impending doom written all over it. I know I'm not going to like the way it ends.
Oh, and Canucks game tonight...I have not great feeling about it...but maybe expect the worst, hope for the best?
Summer has now started, I have a to-do list a mile long and no job. I'm of mixed feelings. I need to make money...I can't just keep living on borrowed money, I need to start paying some of it back. That being said...assuming I get a job next year, I'll never have another opportunity to have such freedom...that kind of spare time. And so I procrastinate...
I've taken up knitting...as much as that makes me sound like a grandmother, but here's what I figure: When my friends start having babies, I want to be able to make cashmere blankets for them. I think that will be lovely...but a) cashmere is pricey stuff so I don't want to even consider it until I'm fairly good, and b) I want them to be lovely, not crappy, beautiful, not ugly. I don't give crappy gifts. All of this adds up to a lot of practice, and so I've taken up knitting.
Oh and I finally got my hands on a copy of Deliverance by James Dickey which I've wanted to read for awhile. I've known the Dueling Banjo music from the movie since I was a kid but never saw the movie, and was curious. I'm only about a quarter of the way in...but the book has impending doom written all over it. I know I'm not going to like the way it ends.
Oh, and Canucks game tonight...I have not great feeling about it...but maybe expect the worst, hope for the best?
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Another Year Older...but what about wiser?
Every year, on my birthday, my thoughts inevitably turn to the past year in the hopes that I can say to myself..."you learned a lot this year...you didn't repeat past mistakes...you may be older...but you're also a little bit wiser."
I suppose this is the first birthday that I have had a forum to write these thoughts down but this is what I've come up with so far:
Procrastination - this is a problem that has not been solved. I'm currently sitting on an assignment that is due tomorrow, that I could definitely finish tonight...but I'm not going to. Why? I don't know...self sabatoge is the most likely reason I suppose. I have only ever handed one thing in late in my life and that was my last paper of my undergraduate degree where the professor said she would not take marks off for papers that were one day late. So I was one day late. So really I was on time. But invariably there are mad rushes to the finish line. This is a problem that is SOO fixable...maybe next year.
Break ups - I finally can be proud of my behavior in the end of a relationship. Unfortunately the recipient of such noble and honorable behavior was a less than worthy recipient. Just kidding...about the noble and honorable...not about the recipient. Seriously though...my last break up took a lot of restraint on my part and was extremely difficult for me but: I never dealt a low blow, never laid blame, didn't cry (much), didn't act crazy, was totally rational and calm. Even when he became a crazy person, I did not. This is the first breakup in my life where I can honestly say I have no regrets, nothing I was ashamed of doing. If I see him again, I can honestly say that I conducted myself well.
Confidence - this one is 50/50. I think it will be a work in progress for the rest of my life. I have learned to grapple with my fear of public speaking for good now (started with teaching, then court, then karaoke, and now I can do it with a modicum of confidence). That was a really challenging thing for me. Back in highschool when our school did various musicals and other productions I would always take part...but in a behind the scenes sort of way. Lighting was my speciality. I always sang...but in a choir, never on my own. This year I took part in my schools charity musical revue sort of thing. And not only did I perform, but I performed a duet...just me and another girl. And I didn't suffer stage fright...and I did ok.
The reason for the negative 50 is that I still am self-confidence challenged. I still have some self esteem issues, still second guess myself, still value my worth on the basis of my perception of how others see me, still allow myself to use that as an excuse to not tackle new challenges. This has been one of the most difficult character traits to grapple with in my life and it will continue to be something I fight. But I won't give up.
Fear of failure - it's tough to judge this one. I ran for election this year...albeit school election, but I ran for the top job. And lost. But I campaigned and put up posters of myself, and gave speeches and all that stuff...and lost. And recovered. So that's great. But on the other hand I'm procrastinating in preparing my applications for jobs - both summer and after school - and though part of me passes it off as a product of my procrastinating ways, in my heart of hearts I fear that it is due to my ingrained fear of failure.
This will probably be on my mind for the next little while as I ease into telling people that I am 27, not 26 (like a new calendar year, it takes awhile for me to shift my mind over). But I do have hopes for the next year - I want to find a job...and maybe find love (or at least someone I trust enough to maybe love). And I want to be able to dance - freestyle and sober. That may seem like a wierd thing to say, but it kind of embodies where I want to go with me. I suppose I should blow out a candle now...Happy birthday to me!
I suppose this is the first birthday that I have had a forum to write these thoughts down but this is what I've come up with so far:
Procrastination - this is a problem that has not been solved. I'm currently sitting on an assignment that is due tomorrow, that I could definitely finish tonight...but I'm not going to. Why? I don't know...self sabatoge is the most likely reason I suppose. I have only ever handed one thing in late in my life and that was my last paper of my undergraduate degree where the professor said she would not take marks off for papers that were one day late. So I was one day late. So really I was on time. But invariably there are mad rushes to the finish line. This is a problem that is SOO fixable...maybe next year.
Break ups - I finally can be proud of my behavior in the end of a relationship. Unfortunately the recipient of such noble and honorable behavior was a less than worthy recipient. Just kidding...about the noble and honorable...not about the recipient. Seriously though...my last break up took a lot of restraint on my part and was extremely difficult for me but: I never dealt a low blow, never laid blame, didn't cry (much), didn't act crazy, was totally rational and calm. Even when he became a crazy person, I did not. This is the first breakup in my life where I can honestly say I have no regrets, nothing I was ashamed of doing. If I see him again, I can honestly say that I conducted myself well.
Confidence - this one is 50/50. I think it will be a work in progress for the rest of my life. I have learned to grapple with my fear of public speaking for good now (started with teaching, then court, then karaoke, and now I can do it with a modicum of confidence). That was a really challenging thing for me. Back in highschool when our school did various musicals and other productions I would always take part...but in a behind the scenes sort of way. Lighting was my speciality. I always sang...but in a choir, never on my own. This year I took part in my schools charity musical revue sort of thing. And not only did I perform, but I performed a duet...just me and another girl. And I didn't suffer stage fright...and I did ok.
The reason for the negative 50 is that I still am self-confidence challenged. I still have some self esteem issues, still second guess myself, still value my worth on the basis of my perception of how others see me, still allow myself to use that as an excuse to not tackle new challenges. This has been one of the most difficult character traits to grapple with in my life and it will continue to be something I fight. But I won't give up.
Fear of failure - it's tough to judge this one. I ran for election this year...albeit school election, but I ran for the top job. And lost. But I campaigned and put up posters of myself, and gave speeches and all that stuff...and lost. And recovered. So that's great. But on the other hand I'm procrastinating in preparing my applications for jobs - both summer and after school - and though part of me passes it off as a product of my procrastinating ways, in my heart of hearts I fear that it is due to my ingrained fear of failure.
This will probably be on my mind for the next little while as I ease into telling people that I am 27, not 26 (like a new calendar year, it takes awhile for me to shift my mind over). But I do have hopes for the next year - I want to find a job...and maybe find love (or at least someone I trust enough to maybe love). And I want to be able to dance - freestyle and sober. That may seem like a wierd thing to say, but it kind of embodies where I want to go with me. I suppose I should blow out a candle now...Happy birthday to me!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Time to click my red heels together?
Just a quick post cause I'm totally bogged down with work. But I couldn't resist...
So I've been driving to school this week (my friend is out of town so I have her parking pass and I'm trying to organize this wine tasting event...blah blah blah)...my regular radio station was dead air. I dunno why. So I hit the seek button and the next station up was a country station.
Ok, so I'm trying to learn to like country music...and I'm kind of sort of liking it...most of it. And this song comes on and it's lovely, and the chorus goes something like this, "...I want to walk you through a field of wild flowers...I want to pick you for ticks."
Seriously...no joke...I turned the volume up and strained to hear every word clearly. And I thought to myself...really? Really? Is that romantic? Really?
And then as I'm recovering from the shock of this song, a commercial for RVs comes on...which by itself is enough to send me reeling...but the tag line of the commercial is, "RVing and Country Music goes together like June and Johnny Cash."
Really? Really?
This was all too much for me before coffee.
So I've been driving to school this week (my friend is out of town so I have her parking pass and I'm trying to organize this wine tasting event...blah blah blah)...my regular radio station was dead air. I dunno why. So I hit the seek button and the next station up was a country station.
Ok, so I'm trying to learn to like country music...and I'm kind of sort of liking it...most of it. And this song comes on and it's lovely, and the chorus goes something like this, "...I want to walk you through a field of wild flowers...I want to pick you for ticks."
Seriously...no joke...I turned the volume up and strained to hear every word clearly. And I thought to myself...really? Really? Is that romantic? Really?
And then as I'm recovering from the shock of this song, a commercial for RVs comes on...which by itself is enough to send me reeling...but the tag line of the commercial is, "RVing and Country Music goes together like June and Johnny Cash."
Really? Really?
This was all too much for me before coffee.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Where did I come from?
I had an argument with a friend of mine the other day about whether or not Kevin and Winnie wind up together at the end of The Wonder Years.
Remember that show? Fred Savage...star of one of my all time favorite movies - The Princess Bride. He pops up every now and again, and still looks like he's about 12 years old.
Anyways, I looked up the final episode of The Wonder Years on You Tube and found a clip of the last five minutes. I was wrong...they don't wind up together. But watching it made me cry...it's really lovely narration...and a really simple story.
In contrast, this next story is a bit convoluted so bear with me. I should start by saying that I cannot confirm the absolute truth of the story. Some of it is my embellished memories from childhood, some of it mere neighbourhood gossip...and believe me we had some crazy neighbourhood gossips (housewives with nothing better to do but play tennis and gossip about the neighbours), and some of it I have recently heard fourth or fifth hand as it trickles through the grapevine to find me in another province.
The neighborhood I grew up in sometimes bore a striking resemblance to Orange County, or Wisteria Lane, or any number of fictional soap opera towns. I have an infinite number of ridiculous stories about it...but we'll keep it to just one for now.
Two families lived down the block from eachother...we'll call them the Hansons, and the Greens. Mr. Hanson was a high powered, well paid lawyer...work-a-holic...so dedicated to his work, in fact, that he used to bring his legal assistant - she of the stillettos and those nylons with the line up the back - on family vacations so that they could "get work done." Needless to say, it wasn't much of a suprise to the neighborhood when Mr. Hanson up and abandoned his family for the legal assistant - leaving Mrs. Hanson with custody of the children, the house, the Jaguar, and apparently, the liquor cabinet. Behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to the neighbors, she became a heavy duty alcoholic.
Meanwhile, up the street Mr. Green was carrying on his lovely life across the street from the neighborhood park. Beautiful large grey house with a veranda and a pink door, and flowers filling the gardens. He earned a good living and he and his wife were raising their three beautiful daughters: 2 blonde and one brunette, spaced evenly and perfectly - 2 years apart. He almost didn't even notice that it was happening, but his wife began to go out more frequently with her girlfriend - movie nights and weekends up to the mountains...vacations to Hawaii. He suspected nothing until his wife left him...for her girlfriend.
And so the jilted spouses mourned their loss together and slowly but surely love blossomed. Mr. Green moved his daughters down the street into Mrs. Hanson's lovely spacious home and they lived as a family - the dysfunctional Brady Bunch. And this lasted for years - at least through high school for us...and then some. But from what I gather, Mrs. Hanson's alcoholism became too much to handle - she developed cirrhosis of the liver, and was placed on a transplant list for a new liver. She got her new liver, but lost her relationship because she committed the cardinal sin of transplant patients. She began to drink her way through the second liver. Mr. Green decided he could no longer watch Mrs. Hanson kill herself.
I found out today that Mrs. Hanson died yesterday. And I have a lot of thoughts and emotions about that: sadness, anger, grief, disgust, pity, compassion...for a lot of the actors in this play. But maybe I'll leave it there for now. Mrs. Hanson died yesterday - early 50s, three children barely adult. She will never see her children get married. She will never know her grandchildren and they will never know her. And her death was caused by something she did to herself - knowingly...possibly not willingly...but knowingly. That makes me sad.
Remember that show? Fred Savage...star of one of my all time favorite movies - The Princess Bride. He pops up every now and again, and still looks like he's about 12 years old.
Anyways, I looked up the final episode of The Wonder Years on You Tube and found a clip of the last five minutes. I was wrong...they don't wind up together. But watching it made me cry...it's really lovely narration...and a really simple story.
In contrast, this next story is a bit convoluted so bear with me. I should start by saying that I cannot confirm the absolute truth of the story. Some of it is my embellished memories from childhood, some of it mere neighbourhood gossip...and believe me we had some crazy neighbourhood gossips (housewives with nothing better to do but play tennis and gossip about the neighbours), and some of it I have recently heard fourth or fifth hand as it trickles through the grapevine to find me in another province.
The neighborhood I grew up in sometimes bore a striking resemblance to Orange County, or Wisteria Lane, or any number of fictional soap opera towns. I have an infinite number of ridiculous stories about it...but we'll keep it to just one for now.
Two families lived down the block from eachother...we'll call them the Hansons, and the Greens. Mr. Hanson was a high powered, well paid lawyer...work-a-holic...so dedicated to his work, in fact, that he used to bring his legal assistant - she of the stillettos and those nylons with the line up the back - on family vacations so that they could "get work done." Needless to say, it wasn't much of a suprise to the neighborhood when Mr. Hanson up and abandoned his family for the legal assistant - leaving Mrs. Hanson with custody of the children, the house, the Jaguar, and apparently, the liquor cabinet. Behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to the neighbors, she became a heavy duty alcoholic.
Meanwhile, up the street Mr. Green was carrying on his lovely life across the street from the neighborhood park. Beautiful large grey house with a veranda and a pink door, and flowers filling the gardens. He earned a good living and he and his wife were raising their three beautiful daughters: 2 blonde and one brunette, spaced evenly and perfectly - 2 years apart. He almost didn't even notice that it was happening, but his wife began to go out more frequently with her girlfriend - movie nights and weekends up to the mountains...vacations to Hawaii. He suspected nothing until his wife left him...for her girlfriend.
And so the jilted spouses mourned their loss together and slowly but surely love blossomed. Mr. Green moved his daughters down the street into Mrs. Hanson's lovely spacious home and they lived as a family - the dysfunctional Brady Bunch. And this lasted for years - at least through high school for us...and then some. But from what I gather, Mrs. Hanson's alcoholism became too much to handle - she developed cirrhosis of the liver, and was placed on a transplant list for a new liver. She got her new liver, but lost her relationship because she committed the cardinal sin of transplant patients. She began to drink her way through the second liver. Mr. Green decided he could no longer watch Mrs. Hanson kill herself.
I found out today that Mrs. Hanson died yesterday. And I have a lot of thoughts and emotions about that: sadness, anger, grief, disgust, pity, compassion...for a lot of the actors in this play. But maybe I'll leave it there for now. Mrs. Hanson died yesterday - early 50s, three children barely adult. She will never see her children get married. She will never know her grandchildren and they will never know her. And her death was caused by something she did to herself - knowingly...possibly not willingly...but knowingly. That makes me sad.
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