The Familiar

Cleanse: Days 1 and 2

2012-01-12T20:46:00.000-08:00

In which Emily oversleeps, but still manages to get off to a decent start, then takes a whole day to recover from illness.

This is a fun cleanse.

I’ve done this cleanse before. It is inspired by Kris Carr’s “Crazy Sexy Diet” 21 day cleanse, but I put my own spin on it. Or, to be precise, I make up some of my own rules. For example, if a food I am supposed to avoid is already in my fridge and may expire before the 21 days are through… well, I’m going to eat it. No sense wasting money.

However, for the most part I stay true to the ideals: I avoid animal products, gluten, coffee and alcohol, and I maintain her suggestions for self care such as meditation, exercise, dry brushing and more! I even complete the questions at the end of each day, honestly and happily. Knowing that at least one other person reads this will help keep me in line.

I’ve been a bit sick this past week, so I have to give myself a pass on the sleeping in on day one …two hours beyond the time I expected to be up. I'm usually very good at getting off on the right foot, and somehow sleeping in two hours did not put me too far off my game. I still managed to do most of the requisite activities: I meditated, I juiced, I exercised, I drank a lot of tea, I even dry brushed. I did not avoid gluten for the reason listed above. I had marinated tempeh (the marinade contained gluten). I avoided caffeine (and I will talk about my unbridled love of coffee another day), alcohol, and animal foods. I ate lots of veggies, drank lots of water and herbal tea. I have to admit, I felt pretty heroic. I was energized and really on my game.

Activities I skipped on the first day: using the neti pot (I'll talk about my relationship with the neti pot another time) and, as mentioned, avoiding gluten. I do promise, however, that as soon as the tempeh has been consumed, I will avoid gluten completely.

Day 2 dawned earlier than day one, but I felt awful. The cold I'd been slowly overcoming decided to take a last stand. I spent most of the day in bed, but still managed to do some of the recommended activities. I had juice, I had lots of veggies, I drank plenty of herbal tea. I did not, however, meditate, exercise, dry brush, neti pot or avoid gluten. I spent the day in my pyjamas conquering this cold. I'm pretty sure I've won. Props to me.

The good news is that the tempeh is gone, so tomorrow will begin the gluten-free run.

Interesting foods I have eaten the past few days include:
Gluten free bread. It's better than most people expect.
Daiya "cheese" which is actually made of tapioca. I eat this stuff outside of cleanses, too, and it's wonderful.
Seaweed. It's dried and lightly salted and so delicious.
Kombucha. Mind, I drink this all the time, but not everyone reading will think it as normal as I do. It's basically cultured fermented tea. It's delightful.
Gluten free granola. It makes a wonderful snack.

The coming weekend will see interesting cleanse challenges including:
The Wrecking Ball: Winter Edition, a show featuring heavy metal and poetry.
A date at a Mexican restaurant. How will I resist margaritas??
Karaoke night.

I can't wait to see how it all plays out.

What are your plans for a healthy weekend?

One Year

2012-01-03T14:39:00.000-08:00

2011 saw many changes; some positive, some less so. It saw meetings and passings. It saw moments of happiness and of utter despair. It saw the whole gamut of human emotion. It saw many lessons learned, and some unheeded. It saw love. It saw determination. It saw both success and failure. It saw so many things I never thought I could experience, things I never believed I could see, and things I never would have imagined I could overcome. It saw things that I still have not overcome, things that will stick with me forever for better or worse.

2012, like all new years, brings promise. I do not resolve; I aim to be flexible, to conquer fears, to go beyond.

Things I will work on:
- movement
- meditation
- clarity
- cleansing
- conquering
- loving

More Challenges

2011-01-03T14:33:00.001-08:00

As the challenge rages on (for another week) I think I've finally hit my stride. That always happens to me: I catch up at the end of the race. Not that I've really caught up to the front runners (RUNNERS being key; I don't do that), but I've made strides.
Friday and Sunday saw running on the rebounder for 20mins, which means a good 4km each day. They also saw a good 10-ish minutes of actual warm-up and cool down (5mins each) with yoga poses and breathing exercises. Today I did the same, and it's feeling pretty good. It's even getting easier to get out of bed and convince myself that this is actually FUN or something. Yikes.

Other challenges have reared their heads as well. Thus, I've dubbed 2011 The Year of Letting Go. I'm accepting help, accepting patience, accepting patients. I'm moving forward. I'm running on a rebounder.

I'm so effing rad.

Today

2010-12-30T14:01:00.000-08:00

Running on the rebounder with the Wii: 4km = 4 points
Walking to work: 3km = 3 points
Eating all the veggies: priceless (but also 1 point)

Getting a Grip

2010-12-29T14:28:00.000-08:00

Alright friends, here's the deal. I've been lazy. Not just regular run-of-the-mill lazy, either. I've pulled lazy marathons. I'm a lazy olympian. I am the Grand Poo-Bah of laziness. Hear me roar.

That said, I still get things done. I just tend to get them done at later hours than the average person. I wake later, I stay up later. I pull an 11-ish hour work day (from 11-11, with 30mins for break and 30mins for travel). I'm tired. I'm not really eating how I should be. I'm definitely not meeting my months-ago-decided fitness goals. And let me tell you, falling short makes me feel pretty guilty. And lazy.

On the bright side: I got a rebounder for Christmas.

SO much fun. I've also rearranged the office/home workout space in such a way that the rebounder fits without having to move a bunch of furniture around. Furthermore, we got a fabulous blender so I can make superpowered smoothies in a fraction of the time it takes to cram things into the Magic Bullet (which I still love and will use to make "single servings" for on-the-go).

Plus, over the holidays I'm proud to say I stayed true to myself, ate completely vegan (minus the two asiago and artichoke puffs when I was super hungry, away from home, and feeling a little weak), avoided baked goods (all made with butter or lard), drank lots of water and herbal tea (and red wine), and rested.

So, in terms of the HBBC, the breakdown is as follows:
Sun. Dec. 19 - 5 points for a big walk, sledding, and eating veggies.
Dec. 20 - 1 point for ballet, 1 for veggies
Dec. 21 - 1 point for veggies
Dec. 22 - 1 point veggies
Dec. 23 - 1 point walking, 1 point veggies (also, this day I made vegan red velvet cupcakes which were a HUGE hit at my SIL's holiday dinner)
Dec. 24 - 1 point veggies (and mega personal points for being able to knit in the car! I've never been able to do anything in a car due to severe incapacitating motion sickness. Homeopathy: 1.)
Dec. 25 - 1 point veggies
Dec. 26 - 1 point veggies
Dec. 27 - 1 point veggies
Dec. 28 - 1 point veggies
Dec. 29 - 1 point pilates, 2 points walking, 1 point veggies

Let the rebounding begin!

Starting the Week off Right

2010-12-20T06:43:00.001-08:00

8hrs of sleep + 30mins of ballet barre activity = 1 point to start the day. Woop.

Off to have all the veggies, and maybe walk to work!

Lazy Week

2010-12-19T15:56:00.001-08:00

I'm not going to lie to you: I've been totally lazy this past week. I give no excuses; I've simply been tired, unmotivated, and maybe a little bit ill. I've slept late, gone to bed late, eaten stuff I probably shouldn't (including a cup of caffeinated coffee on Monday which I think started the whole bad spiral).

I have, however, managed to keep my intake of veggies above and beyond, so I suppose this is a 7 point week.
I didn't work out at all. This isn't to say I've done nothing. I walk to my office every day, I take the stairs at home, and I'm knitting like a mad person, but I have no idea how to add of these things up. Therefore: 7 points for the whole week.
Today (the start of the following week) I've already earned about 5 points; 3 for a 3km walk, and 2 for the hour of intense sledding we did this afternoon.

That's right; dodging children, trekking up a steep incline, working the ass muscles trying to steer, and shivering to keep warm... I think it all adds up.
Here's to a better week!

Workout Update

2010-12-12T15:05:00.000-08:00

I got a surprising amount of exercise in, considering the busy-ness that was my schedule this past week.

Sunday: After an overnight shift, I ran out for some good Bikram yoga, took myself out to a beautiful vegan lunch, then went straight back to work.
Bikram = 5 points (2x40mins of weights/resistence, 3x15mins cardio equivalent)
Biking 4km = 1 point
ALL the veggies = 1 point

Monday: I had full day at the office, post a morning work out. Then I took the evening off and it was marvellous.
Pilates = 1 point
ALL the veggies = 1 point

Tuesday: was another full day at the office, and my personal "off" day.
Veggies = 1 point

Wednesday: serious workout day
Bikram = 5 points
Veggies = 1 point
Walking 3km = 3 point
I also had a massage this day. It was an awesome day. That it, until I broke my toe shuffling to bed. The it was less awesome.

Thursday. Oh, Thursday. My toe hurt a lot. I went to the office, and I walked around a little, but I mostly took it easy so I didn't have to cry.
Veggies = 1 point

Friday: was a fun day of visiting, overnight working, and reading. Ohhhh yeah.
Walking 3km = 3 points
Veggies = 1 point
Thousands upon thousands of stairs = 2 points. I think it probably equalled around 2km or so with all the patrols I did.

Saturday: was wolf day, so I spent most of it asleep. Once I felt better, Jim and I went to the movies (Black Swan... so good), then took a stroll around The Bay to see the window displays, then through Nathan Philips Square to see the decorations.
Veggies = 1 point
Walking 1km = 1 point

I know this still isn't really close to the number I'd hoped for, but it seems I was delusional about how much time I actually have when I first made my goals. I'm pretty happy with my bits of progress though.

Feelin' fine!

Challenge Challenges

2010-12-02T07:47:00.001-08:00

**
Alternate title: I LOVE MY BED!

I like winter. I do. Really. I like snow (for the first ten showers or so, the on Christmas Eve/Day/Boxing Day and NYE, but then I'm over it). I like chilly weather (but not wind). I like boots and scarves and mittens and sweaters. I even like hats! But I absolutely cannot abide one thing:
Darkness.
Or, to be specific: Darkness In The Morning.
I really dislike opening my eyes to... well, nothing because it's freaking dark outside. Then I look over at the (still glowing) numbers on the alarm clock to discover it says something actually quite normal like "8:34". But my whole self feels like I cannot possibly leave my bed because the sky tells me it is most certainly NOT morning.

To add to the issue, I'm pretty sure I have the most comfortable bed in creation. I know lots of people thing this about their beds, but I'm serious. I've had confirmation from other people, too. I'm not shy about my bedroom, I don't mind hanging out in it, as it affords an opportunity for my bed and I to spend some quality time together with others. Everyone who has ever had a chill session on my bed has been like "dude, I don't wanna leave; your bed is so comfy" and I'm all like "I know right?"*

*This is not generally how the conversation goes down as my friends and I don't tend to speak that way. But you get the idea.

All this leads to one stunning conclusion: I am falling short of my challenge goals. I haven't been to yoga in about two weeks. I admit that last week I skipped out because I wasn't feeling well. This week, I have no excuse other than I simply don't WANT to. I AM GOING ON SUNDAY because I have a 6 hour break from work and I may as well fill half of that with yoga since going home doesn't make sense, and I won't want to return for the rest of the shift if I do.

I have, however, been eating like a hero. All veggies all the time. I'm walking a lot. I haven't been biking as much as I'd like because of the snow (slippery + darkness = ow). So here's the lowdown of how this week has played out:

Sunday:
veggies = 1 point
walk 2km = 2pts

Monday
veggies = 1 point
biking 6km = 2 points

Tuesday
veggies = 1 point

Wednesday
veggies = 1 point
walk 3km = 3 points

Thursday
veggies = 1 point
bike 6km = 2 points (this hasn't happened yet, but I'm biking to work today because it's sunny. This is actually counter productive because I'd get more points if I walk.)

Which means so far this week: 14 points. That's a long way from the 34 I'd planned for each week.

Dear self: You can do Better.
Love, Me.

**photo credit: Shawn Lovell Metalworks, BBC, Vegan Pandamonium

Win some Stuff!

2010-11-29T09:00:00.000-08:00

If you don't yet know my feelings about raw local honey... I'll be happy to tell you another day. Today, however, I would like to point you at a great giveaway happening on a really fabulous blog. YOU could win a tri-pack of good, local, raw honey from Nude Bee Honey!

Another Day

2010-11-23T18:41:00.000-08:00

Another few points. I had another Wii-Fit day. Did you know the Wii-board seems to get really happy when you pop by for a body test two days in a row? Who knew an inanimate object could be so invested in one's health.
Stats:
I still suck at the hip-bump-math thing. I had a "personal best" answering 19/20, but my little Mii still gets sad face because she didn't get all of them. Again, the issue was with a forward pelvic thrust. Maybe I do them wrong.
I did a whole routine of stretch/strength, which I hadn't done in a while. It felt pretty good, but it also felt out of practice. No one's fault but my own.
My shoulders are a bit tender from the (totally awesome) massage I had yesterday, so I didn't do the bird flying thing. I did, however, do some "cycling" and boxing, which irritated the junk out of me because it often doesn't register my punches and I swear I'm doing them exactly the same each time.
I rode my bike to work, and will (obviously) ride it home.
I ate about a million servings of vegetables.
Tally:
40mins Wii work-out: 2 points
6+km on the bike: 2 points
ALL the veggies: 1 point
Total: 5 points.

Beats yesterday. Tomorrow I'm skipping yoga in favour of getting some work done, but am picking up some extra bike kms and doing yoga on Thursday. And probably Saturday. Woop.

Challenge (actually) Begins

2010-11-22T17:05:00.000-08:00

Today it rained. It rained hard and cold. This meant, to my horror, that there would be no biking today.

I had an appointment in the afternoon which ensured that yoga class was not an option, since there was no way I could get between the two on time. This meant I had to have a home work-out.

I don't know how much y'all know about me, but here's something you might not: I love structure. I like rules (so I can break them), I thrive in a goal-oriented, very focussed environment. On top of that, I can be pretty lazy. These two things together add up to one thing:
I need classes.
I need other people around. I need competition (but I can't be the worst in the room cuz I'll quit). I need a little trash talk, or motivational speaking while I'm sweating and trying really hard not to grunt because it's unattractive. Home work-outs generally do not provide these things, so I turned to my favourite alternative:
Wii Fit.
I rocked that thing for 40mins. My Wii Fit age is 24. I'm tiny shifts away from perfect balance. I'm a hoola-hoop goddess.

I am master of the step routine.

That said, I also suck at boxing, need to improve my "flying bird" skills, and could really use some work on my math (cuz yeah, they combine balance exercises with MATH now).

Of course, the system isn't perfect. It doesn't register some of my more subtle shifts (although I think some of them were on purpose; as if it couldn't seriously tell that I was doing a REALLY emphatic pelvic thrust to make the stupid numbers add up to ten. I think it was trying to embarrass me. It didn't. Take that, sucker).

Sometimes it didn't register my boxing punches, which was lame becauase I totally did them.

Nevertheless, I feel good about it. I got nearly 2000 spins in super-hoola (6mins!) and felt like a super hero. I'll stick with it.

Today's points:
40mins with Wii-Fit: 2 points
Walking 1km: 1 point
7+ v/f servings: 1 poing
Total: 4 points.
A whole weekend in a Monday. Bring it on.

On With the Challenge!

2010-11-21T16:30:00.000-08:00

The Challenge has begun and so far I have done:

Bupkiss.

That's right. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Well, that's not fair. I'm definitely eating enough vegetables to have earned me one point each day this weekend, and today I biked 6km, so my weekend totals 4 points. I had PLANNED on making today a pretty serious day with Bikram yoga and biking combined. This fell through, however, and instead I slept until class would have begun and spent the day in my pyjamas all warm and cozy on my couch. I don't really have any excuse for this except:
1. I spent the day kinda stressed out yesterday over personal matters and
2. I wanted to be in my jammies all day. It was cold, kinda windy, and the prospect of freezing my face off just to go get all hot, sweaty, and wet only to have to get all frozen again on the way home was simply unappealing.

I promise I will be better this week.

Tomorrow's plan: 60-90min workout with a DVD, spend some time in the office, 6km biking and my first ever visit to a massage therapist. I'm pretty excited.

Upcoming activities: Bikram on Wednesdays and Sundays, DVD workouts Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, and the possibility of a weekly workout with a personal trainer, which I will likely schedule for either Fridays or Saturdays.

Other activities include: chaperoning 12 year olds to the ballet this weekend (that really should count for some kind of work-out points accumulation), meeting with my SIL to comb over childhood holiday decorations, my personal annual drunk decorating extravaganza (which is a lot like an olympic event, but with wine), Holiday gift shopping (an Ironman-esque activity; everyone should get bonus points for this), the One of a Kind Show, and all other holiday events.

I think my head just exploded.

Challenge Practice: Day 7

2010-11-15T17:48:00.000-08:00

Today felt really productive, although I did not get much in the way of "work out" time. I did about 20 mins of weights (1 point!), then was just too excited to get on with my working to do any more.

Instead, I biked. Everywhere.

Total bike distance for today: 10km (3 points!)
I biked to see my homeopath. I biked to work. I biked home. This took me from Riverdale to Leslieville to Church/Wellesley and back home to Riverdale. It was windy, too, so I had to work extra hard.

Finally, as always, I ate about a billion vegetables (1 point!).
Breakfast: miso soup, steamed kale, and a slice of spelt bread with Earth Balance vegan buttery spread.

Lunch: ... I kinda skipped it. But I had a huge apple for a snack.

Dinner: Black eyed peas with spinach, spinach/almond/rice casserole, sweet potatoes, vegetable soup.

Snack: Raw cucumber, carrot, celery and hummus. Sour cherries. Tea.

Challenge Practice Days 5/6/7

2010-11-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

Day 5:
This was totally my rest day and I took advantage. I thought it was going to coincide with the start of my wolf days, but it didn't. I was somewhat disappointed by this.

I still get 1 point for eating veggies.
Also: 2 points for walking 2km. Yeah, I did that.
After dark, Jim Graham and I went for a totally delicous and wonderful walk in the fog. It was stunning. And a little scary. But mostly awesome.

(Photo Credit http://astrologyexpressed.wordpress.com)

Day 6:
And thus began the wolf. I did some stuff at home:
20mins weights = 1 point

30mins cardio = 2 points

ALL the veggies = 1 point
I also took a supercharged nap and ate sushi.

Day six was basically awesome.

Day 7:
Brings us to today. I meant to go to yoga and ride my bike everywhere, but I felt kinda icky and it rained. Instead, Jim and I:
1. had brunch with our friends (VEGGIE POINTS! for eating a big breakfast salad), 2. played video games,

3. drank tea and

4. read together. Super awesome couples day that totally beat any kind of yoga.

Challenge Practice: Day 4

2010-11-11T16:23:00.001-08:00

Or: Thank goddess tomorrow is rest day.

I did a bikram class today.
Well, for starters I totally ate brussels sprouts for breakfast with couscous and some "minty chocolate" tea made with rice milk. Then I biked to yoga, did the yoga, biked to the coffee shop, drank the coffee and had wonderful conversation, biked to work where I am currently enjoying a decaf soy latte after having soup and veggie loaf for dinner.

How was that for a sentence?

Today's class was FULL of people.

So full in fact that it took me almost an hour to shower, change and get out of there once all was said and done. It's never taken that long before. It wasn't my greatest class, either. I dropped a few poses (or "fell out" of them as they term it). I felt like I was sitting in a few of them - such that I wasn't feeling like I was working as hard as I could. I have reasons for this, but I still feel a bit guilty for doing it.
Yoga Summary:
Postures Improved - are basically the same as written previously. Today I felt especially good in the twist and in camel; no real reason why. Also, I did much better at the Dancer's pose; I only fell out during the last one and right at the end.
Postures Needing Improvment - are also basically the same, but I adding:

The Rabbit. This pose hurts my head. I think I might be doing it wrong. I should probably ask about that.

Today's breakdown:
Biking 6.5km = 2 points
Bikram: 40mins stretch/strength = 2 points
45mins cardio = 3 points
7+ veggies and fruits = 1 point
Total = 8 points.

Beats yesterday.
Rest day tomorrow!! Wish me luck; I may not be able to resist lifting weights or something.

Challenge Practice: Day 3

2010-11-10T17:58:00.000-08:00

Or: Kinda lazy. Or: I pushed too far.

My calves hurt. (Why are they called calves?) A lot. They're clearly "overworked" and underpaid. Stretching is good; contracting is not. Going down stairs = no fun.

I'm going to blame running yesterday, mostly because I can but also because it's the only "unusual" thing I've been doing recently. I likely have pretty bad form, didn't use proper footwear, and the impact was probably a bit weird. It'll take some adjusting. I'm not going to stop, but I am going to be aware of what can happen.

I've also been doing about 20 calf press-ups/evening on a stair at work. I put all my weight on the balls of my feet and let my heels hang into space. I let all my weight down as far as is comfortable, stretching the muscle. The I slow press up into full releve. It's awesome.

It usually feels amazing; kinda hurts today. I think they need a rest and possibly an epsom salt bath.

Today's tally:
Pilates Mat work 20mins = 1 point
Biking 6+km = 2 points
7+ fruits/veggies = 1 point
Total = 4 points.

(I wonder if I can say 2 points for the fruit and veggie thing since I'm vegan and get twice as many as most people.)

Tomorrow is another serious biking/bikram day. I bought brussels sprouts to have for breakfast. I'm really excited.

This is starting to really work for me.

Challenge Practice: Day 2

2010-11-09T15:27:00.000-08:00

I tried running.

It wasn't too bad.

I know, everyone who has ever heard me talk about working out is picking their jaw up off the floor. I have (had?) an ungodly hatred for running. I despise it almost as much as yesterday's yoga pose (blasted compression pose). Today, however, I finally decided to see what all the fuss is about.

I used to run in elementary school. I was a sprinter from the 4th-9th grades, but hated distances. My throat would close, I'd get all mucousy and want to cough and vomit after a few minutes. I did track (100 meters and relays only, thank you), and tried Cross Country distance running in grades 4 and 5. I hated it in grade 4. In grade 5 I got partway though the season before I remembered "oh yeah, I hate this" and promptly stopped going.

In university I was "diagnosed" with "exercise induced asthma" but it was pretty moot at that point since I had decided that running was not for me. Sure, I did eliptical machines and sometimes a treadmill, but mostly I stuck with biking (real and stationary), some stair climbing, and rowing. Eventually I also decided that I hate the gym atmosphere, so I stopped going there and stuck to yoga and dance classes. This is what has kept me going for the past 7 years.

Lately, everyone around me has started running. My friend Jessica does marathons, Amy runs for fun, Carrie has gotten back into the groove... so many people have casually mentioned "(blah blah) after my run." Even my oldest friend (another professed run-hater) did a half marathon in France a few weeks ago. It's crazy.

So today, I turned on the Wii (for the first time in 255 days... yikes) and got down to business. They make you do things in stages, so I had to do this pitifully short little ditty twice - about two minutes and they don't tell you how far you've gone. Annoying! However, once you prove you can keep a good steady pace, you open the "free run" which is considered distance. It's tracked by time; I chose 10mins cuz I can't imagine wanting to do more than that pretty much ever. This one measures distance.
I ran (jogged?) 2.6km in 10mins.
I think it lies.
I wasn't winded, I was barely tired. But I was sweaty, and my knees and ankles hurt a little. And I was a little bored. (Note: next time, music.)
I've decided that I need a rebounder if I'm going to keep this up (and I plan to) since that will reduce the impact on my knees, ankles and hips.

Also, if I feel comfortable enough (and feel fancy enough to buy shoes) I may consider going... outside.... to run.... in the spring.
I know. I can't believe it either.

So, practice tally:
Weights for 20 mins = 1 point
Running 2km = 2 points
Biking 6km = 2 points
7+ servings of veggies = 1 point
Total = 6 points.

Update:
I realize I didn't tally yesterday, so here it is:
Biking 9km = 3 points
Walking 2km = 2 points
7+ veggies = 1 point
40 mins stretching, abs etc = 2 points
45 mins "other" cardio = 3 points
Total = 11 points

I can see bikram days are going to kick most other days' butts.

Still feeling good; Ill stick with it. In it to win it.

Holiday Challenge Practice

2010-11-08T14:44:00.000-08:00

Although the actual "Challenge" does not begin for another 12 days, I think it's appropriate to make sure I can actually handle the things I've put in my schedule.

Today was a bikram day, since I'm a day behind, and I've planned another for Thursday.
Stats: I felt better afterward than I had last time, which makes sense as I'm getting back into it.
Postures improved:

Half-moon pose: I'm basically L shaped, but upside-down.

Camel. This pose has the propensity to make me feel sick and want to vomit. This sensation has lessened significantly, and I've been successful with it repeatly in the past several classes (including "dry" yoga).

The Twist. I've always been pretty good at it, but it felt extra pretty today.
Postures needing improvement:

Ironically, the Dancer's pose. While I could probably maintain similar posturing with modification, for some reason having to hold onto my ankle and kick makes my arm really really unhappy. I blame my failed upper body strength. I'm working on that.

The Triangle or Master pose. I suck at this pose, especially on the left. For no good reason. I have a feeling it has to do with some kind of core/hamstring combo I just haven't figured out yet or am not strong enough to pull off, but it'll get there. Oh, it'll get there.

Compression pose. I hate this pose. Unbridled, passionate, hatred. Any time I have to compress my neck and try to "breathe normal" I want to punch someone in the face. Not so zen of me, I suppose. This pose hurts my neck (which consequently hurts my head), my lungs and to some extent my hamstrings. It'll get better; I nearly had it last year when I was going 2-3x/week for 6 weeks. I have faith in it, but that doesn't make me hate it any less.

Also, I biked: 3.5km to Bikram, 3km to work, then 3.1km home.

So far my challenge schedule has at least an hour/day of SOMEthing, and a rest day either Saturday or Sunday since healing and repair is important. So far, it looks something like:
Sunday and Wednesday = Bikram Yoga - 90mins of intense cardio, strength and flexibility training all at once. Plus, you sweat like mad. Serious points.
Monday and Friday = Weights and Wii Fit activities - I'm going to TRY to focus on the running and strength training options the Wii provides. But I hate running, so I'll have to get back to you. That particular practice begins tomorrow (I'm a day behind this week).
Tuesday and Thursday = Pilates/Mat Work at home. Stretch and strength, my friends.
Added to this, I bike 6km/day 5x/week, sometimes more on days there are yoga classes involved.
My secret (well, not anymore) plan is to see what other people's points add up to in the first week and see how mine compare, then add as needed. (You'll notice I won't subtract; Like I said, in it to win it.)
Possible additions = bellydance classes 1x/week, jazz/ballet classes 1x/week, possibly a third bikram class in a week that can withstand it. We'll see how it goes.

Challenge!

2010-11-07T17:45:00.000-08:00

I joined this:

I'll be keeping track of my progress (but probably not daily) here on this blog. Hopefully enough will be going on to keep it interesting. So far, I've set up what I think is a heroic schedule, but there's always room for improvement. I'm totally going to watch other people's point scores, then up my game as needed. I'm in it to win it. You should be too.

Happy Hallowe'en

2010-10-31T19:19:00.001-07:00

May it be a safe, joyful and prosperous new year.

Harvest Breakfast

2010-10-17T17:26:00.001-07:00

I serendipitously came across a recipe last night before falling asleep: Pumpkin Pancakes. If you've ever met me, you know my weakness for all things gourd and all things autumn. Therefore, of course we made them this morning. The recipe goes something like this:
2c self raising flour
2tsp cinnamon
2tsp nutmeg
1/2c brown sugar
1/2c pumpkin puree
2 eggs (or egg substitute of choice; applesauce would go well here)
1c water

Combine the dry ingredients, then make a "well" in the middle for the pumpkin and egg. Blend. Then add the water until you reach the desired consistency.
Yield: about 11 pancakes.

The yield was not mentioned, but on a whim I halved the recipe and it came out with 6 (well, 5 and a baby). Also, though I am mostly vegan I did decide to use a single organic, farm fresh, free-run egg. Next time I'll use applesauce, I promise.

I did, however, CREATE applesauce while the pancakes were... panning?

We heaped applesauce on top of the happy cakes...

Jim drizzled his with some organic maple syrup. I left mine mostly naked with a pile of pomme.

Jim and I both felt this was a huge success.

Definitely a repeat. Jim is thinking of a Sunday brunch with a few people next weekend with this on the menu. I am thinking of doing it tomorrow morning... and
all other mornings until I run out of puree.

Paris: Final Day

2010-10-01T12:37:00.000-07:00

Breakfast at Juice Bar! Aptly named "Bob's Juice" it is run by an Englishman and his American girlfriend. They had fabulous juices, smoothies and muffins, and nearly everyone in the shop was english. And to think they were only a few doors away this whole time.

We strolled back along St Paul and the Red Wheelbarrow for books to read on the trip home. Along the Seine we collected a few more gifts (including a card holder for me and a pocket mirror for my mother). We lunched at Cafe de Luna near Montmartre because the nearby vegetarian restaurant had closed early. For the record, it wasn't so great. We re-visited Jeff de Bruges for more chocolates before heading to the "Musee Eroticisme."
This is indeed exactly what it sounds like. It was mostly historical and moderately depressing, but there were some hilarious cartoons of "Everready" and a few pieces of suggestivity.

We headed home to pack and tidy things before making one final sojourn to the Eiffel tower.

I convinced Jim to ride the carousel, finally.

I have a bit of a carousel problem myself. I've always loved them. Ask my mother.

The other problem is they make me a bit sick.

We rode the carousel beneath the glow of a twinkling tower in partnership. Then we took the lift once more to the second level, stairs back down to the first, then to the bottom.

This is he view of the elevator, from above the elevator. We were climbing down, it was pulling up.

They have nets draped and attached all over the place. I suppose if you're falling and feel the need to grab something (as one likely would) these would make a good option.

Look at all the tiny people!
We prepared for departure with immune-boosting elixers, sandwiches, and beer. Then we readied ourselves for bed, excited to see our kitties the following evening.

Paris: Day 10

2010-09-30T15:13:00.000-07:00

Nearly one year later and I'm still going!

The day dawned rainy and grey. We spent much of our morning "caving" and journaling. We ventured out to coffee, crepes, and coffins for the day. We had a long visit to Pere LaChaise Cemetery. We paid respects to a great many greats, but we had a few missions in mind:

First we found Colette, my ultimate favourite writer. According to Mireille Guiliano (of French Women Don't Get Fat), Colette was the first woman to "exercise like an American" with machines and accoutrements. This doesn't matter much to me, but I found it interesting. Mostly, I simply adore her writing style, her amusing ideas, interesting plots and unloveable characters.
Jim quested for Jim Morisson, as he is a tourist destination for a great many. During my first visit when I was 18, his particular plot was accessible, and many of the surrounding stones were vandalized, tipped over, and otherwised desecrated. Now, Morisson's own and several surrounding resting places are fenced in. Still, somehow there are many offerings of respect... and doobies.
During our crazy wander-fest, I discovered Hahnemann.
He's the creator/founder/great mind behind homeopathic medicine. He's kinda my hero.
I tried desperately for over two hours to find Isadora Duncan, but came up naught. Instead, I found huge sites devoted to the fallen in the haulocaust, various plane crashes, and civil wars. Finally, we figured out that the "C" beside her name meant she was kept in the crematorium. I felt stupid. However, on the way to find her, we came across Oscar Wilde.
By proxy, we also found Robert Frost since rumour has it the two share sepulcre. Who knew?

The crematorium is an exceptionally creepy place which travels far underground. It smells of stale flowers and tears. To my delight, we found her above ground level. There were a few tributes to others about: tiny flowers, a lone tea light long since snuffed. I left a favoured and well-loved hair pin.
We walked home to a dinner of leek and potato mash and whole wheat bread with flan aux fruit and tarte auc framboise for dessert from the patisserie on the corner. Afterward we readied ourselves and headed out for an evening of jazz at Cafe le Bistro. We capped the evening with luscious bordeaux, four cheese bread, great music and discussions of existentialisme.

Love List

2010-09-24T07:28:00.000-07:00

1. Coffee. I know it's acidic, habit forming, tooth-staining, ulcer-forming and all sorts of other awful. But a good hot cup of organic fairly traded bean brew is sometimes one of the happiest moments of my day.

2. Green juice. I think of it often as the counterpart to the coffee. It's generally alkaline, equally delicious, full of vitamins and minerals, easy to digest, hydrating and wonderfully vegan. I enjoy the entire process: from shopping for the right veggies, peeling, washing, and chopping, to the actual "juicing" either by machine or by hand (both of which are happily satisfying).

3. My dad (of whom I unfortunately have no digital photo. He looks quite a lot like Tom Selleck, if you want to get an idea). He always knows the right things to say, generally supports my decisions while playing devil's advocate to make sure I'm doing what I actually want. He's always ready to jump to my aid if I need him, but is polite enough to wait until I (finally) ask for help. He doesn't even mind that I'm not ready to have children even though his desire to be a grandpa is pretty huge.

4. My mom (of whom I also currently have no digital photo). We almost never have the same opinion on anything. She argues with me until I finally keep my thought to myself. She is an exercise in self control. She loves me more than anything. She dives into things with her whole self. She takes on things she doesn't always agree with just to make other people happy. She really puts herself out there to make the world a nicer place. She's a huge pile of surprise and an endless source of inspiration.

5. Kitties. I have SO MANY photos of my calicos it's a bit sickening. They snuggle me when I'm happy, sad, sick, or cold. They snuggle each other just for fun. We play, we romp, we take care of each other. They are magic.

6. New kitties. He's still adjusting to his new home, but he snuggles and cuddles and headbutts like he's been here his whole life. He doesn't mind that the others hiss at him when he tries to play; he just keeps playing.

This is Important to Share

2010-09-20T19:41:00.000-07:00

Source: http://hollabackdc.wordpress.com

Homeopathy for Dancers

2010-09-09T09:54:00.000-07:00

Everyone’s body is an instrument. It is what gets us around, keeps us going, it is our home for as long as we are on this earth. Dancers have the distinct pleasure and honour of being aware of using this home as a means for artistic expression, catharsis, performance, pleasure, and delight.

But what happens when this instrument is in pain?
For other artists, there are replacements: a new brush or canvas for the painter; fresh strings, or tuning for the musician; new cameras for the photographer; and on and on. But the dancer only has one body, and the “replacement” process is expensive, painful, and often career ending. Dancers rely heavily on the arts of physiotherapists, chiropractors, good teachers, conditioning exercises, and self monitoring as tools for healing. Many dancers (and other artists for that matter) are as yet unaware of the role homeopathic medicine can play in injury prevention, recovery, overcoming stage fright and performance anxiety, and other professional afflictions.
How can homeopathy help?
In an acute injury, the dancer can always always always turn to Arnica Montana. Arnica is reknown for its use in trauma, injury, shock, and is invaluable as a first aid remedy. Given immediately, it can reduce pain, inflammation, and stimulate the healing processes.
From here, it is important to see a qualified professional homeopath to discover the best medicine for the individual dancer and his/her injury. Each dancer will have his/her own reaction to being injured. One dancer might be despondent and depressed; another may be angry and resentful; still another might be fearful and anxious, while others may ignore the injury and keep on going (and so on). It is important to discover the individual reaction in order to find the appropriate healing remedy.
Alongside this reaction is the dancer’s overarching constitution. The homeopath is always looking for connections: what sort of imbalance may have caused this injury? It could be related to fears, training, muscular weakness, or another mental, emotional, or physicial factor.
The dancer’s own personal susceptability to a particular injury is important. S/he might discover that most injuries occur on one side of the body, for instance, or that s/he is prone to ankle sprains, knee difficulties, bursitis, tendonitis etc, as opposed to those other “common” dance related injuries.
These are important to take into consideration. A homeopath will look at these incombination with the other factors mentioned above to create a complete picture of the dancer. This picture will provide a guide to the most appropriate homeopathic remedy for the artist, leading to injury prevention and a healthier organism.
Homeopathy can accelerate injury recovery. It helps to maintain fitness through supporting the organism in all aspects of its being.
Furthermore, homeopathy can teach the dancer about his/her body in ways perhaps previously unthought. The homeopath will ask a LOT of questions, and the more specific and honest an answer is, the more likely the correct remedy will be found and the quicker healing can occur. Homeopathy can assist the dancer in discovering connections. For example, it may have gone unnoticed that injuries tended only to one side of the body, or to one area of the body, or only occured just before performance. These can be sorted out through treatment and lead the body into a balanced state, assisting the body in preventing these occurances and even eliminating them once and for all.
There are no quick fixes for dance injuries; no short cuts. Each and every one needs to be worked through using the appropriate combination of physiotherapy, training, and rest. Homeopathy can help accelerate this process and get dancers back on the floor stronger, more confident, and healthier than before.

Down to Business: September Specials

2010-08-23T11:52:00.000-07:00

For September 2010, new patients take a break from HST.

Initial Consultations $150
Follow-Up visits $75

Offer available for new patients beginning September 1, 2010.

Share the health (and wealth) with your friends!

New Bike Status: Awesome

2010-08-03T10:20:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I spent an unprecedented amount of time on my new bike. On Sunday, Jim and I rode to meet Graham at Sarah Ashbridge Bay, an eastern portion of the beaches at Woodbine. We took an interesting route across Dundas St E, then Kingston Rd, then Queen St E, then the bike path. Now, I think in this instance the term "bike path" is misleading as there are an inordinate number of people strolling along, pushing children in various states of development in prams and umbrella strollers; elderly people holding hands and shuffling sedately; teenagers shambling like sun soaked zombies on a quest for water. Call me crazy, but I think the boardWALK right beside the BIKE path would be a better place for most of the above-mentioned beach-goers.

But I digress.

After nearly falling off my bike a number of times in efforts to avoid mowing down "pedestrians," we finally found our friends,

cuddle-peded our bikes together, locked them to a tree,and ventured onto the beach.

We clamoured up onto the rocky break wall at my insisting; I cannot bear to sit on hot dry sand when I could be on slightly cooler, slightly moist flat rocks being showered by sprays from large waves.

We witnessed some pretty good waves, got nicely tanned, slightly moist, and greatly rejuvenated.

I also bore witness to a pretty epic parenting fail:

I don't know how obvious it is in the picture, but the boat was tethered to the kid who was left lying on the sand for about 20mins. Jim and Graham assured me that the likelihood of the boat suddenly turning tide and dragging the kid into the lake to certain doom was very slim, but it upset me anyway.

Soon after, we made our way to dinner then headed home to board games and white wine with the inestimable Lisa Day.

The following day, Holiday Monday, we headed out once more, adventurers three (Lisa wasn't feeling well) to the Leslie Spit, which I assure you is much more attractive than it sounds. Here is the home of the lighthouse I have been seeing from Cherry Beach for years and have had no idea how to get to. Now I do.

This is the bridge one must cross to get there. It's wonderfully rustic, and only mildly alarming. The remainder of the path to the lighthouse was both awesome and bumpy, culminating in a rather steep incline riddled withe brick pieces and glass shards. We chose to walk.

I was somewhat disappointed to learn that the lighthouse is actually still functional and is in fact a satellite for GPS signals. However, fun was had, and I saw a snake.

This is me and my new life partner. See how well we get on together? Jim is only mildly offended by my desire to marry my bicycle, but he's very understanding of my polyamorous tendencies.

Share the love! Do you have an adventure story to tell? I want to hear it!

Love List

2010-07-28T19:32:00.000-07:00

In appreciation and honour of Kris Carr over at Crazy Sexy Life, I have decided to create the Love List. It might not be weekly as hers intends to be, but it will be pretty good and may even include picture sometimes. Hurray!
1. New Bicycle. I looks like that tiny picture, but white. I got it for free from my wonderful friend Tiffany. I spent a little bit on a basket, fenders, and some repairs, but it was otherwise already perfect. I'm in love with it. I want to marry it and have its little bicycle babies.

2. Pretty dresses that I got in the mail. I ordered them from Etsy and they arrive DAYS before I expected them.
and
3. Farmers' Markets. I always love going, and I always return with a huge basket of fresh, local, organic produce. And of course local, ethical honey. Gotta save the bees!

4. A fancy new amulet. You heard me. Amulet. It's rockin'.

5. Long sleeps. The other day I slept for many many hours (nearly 12) and woke feeling better than I had in days. I didn't feel guilty about it either. It was delicious.

6. Dance shows. The students I work with put on their choreographic workshop pieces, and I got to see them. I am always impressed with these kids; they have so much talent and heart, and are so full of love for what they do. It makes me want to get back into dancing myself.
7. New Patients. Love 'em. Keep 'em coming.

Write in and tell me what makes you happy.

Another Great Give-Away

2010-07-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends;
One of my favourite bloggers Meghan Telpner is having a great tea give-away! Run on over to her blog and check out the fabulous possibilities! GO! GO NOW!

Open Letters II

2010-07-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Impending Thunder Storm;
I appreciate you holding your tides while biking to my destination. It was really wonderful to arrive at work not soaked, if a little winded from your winds.
Many thanks,
Emily

Dear Man Playing the Ukelele on Parliament Street;
You personify everything that is awesome in the universe. You are my hero. Keep on rocking in the free world.
Probably your biggest fan,
Emily

Dear Self;
Why are you so crusty lately? You have two choices in all aspects of life: change your situation or change your perspective. You know what the runes said. Get on the horse.
Don't make me come down there.
Sincerely,
Self

Dear Supervisors;
I wish you supported me as much as I do.
Regards,
Emily's Judgement

Dear New Bike;
I love you. Let's get married.
XO
Emily

Veganism; Not for Wimps

2010-07-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

It is now going on three months since I've decided to go vegan. This was not a decision made lightly; it was born of many hours of contemplation, and eventually of necessity.

I had been toying with the idea of veganism for a number of years. The benefits were obvious: more compassionate diet, less fat, fewer processed foods, greater nutrients etc. However, the task was daunting and moderately scary. What about protein? What about calcium and iron? What about CHEESE? I adore cheese. Local, organic, farm fresh, beautiful cheese. I think of cheese as a living food; anyone who has ever had a good sheep's milk camembert (or "Ramembert") can attest to its fluctuations, its personality, it's vitality even while living in the fridge. As I was nearly committed to eating almost exclusively live foods, cheese was a logical choice.

Then horrible things began to happen. For about a year during university I was severely intolerant of lactose. It was uncomfortable, and kinda smelly. This is when I made the switch from processed, mass produced cheese to the aforementioned living, local, lovely cheeses. This seemed to help. I also minimized the amount of cows milk foods, opting instead for goat or sheep, which really seemed to get things back on track. I noticed I could eat a small amount with no symptoms. Sated, I went about my life as a moderate eater of cheese.

Several months ago I made another discovery: all milk products hurt. I don't mean I would get a stomach cramp and maybe some accompanying unpleasantries. This was no lactose intolerance; this was a full on milk hate crime. And it was being perpetrated in my intestines.

It began with a cream based soup. I bloated to a second trimester pregnancy, and no amount of mint or ginger tea could make it calm down. After that, milk bases. Then cheese, beloved and wonderful cheese, turned on me. I decided to reduce dairy of all sorts for a while, figuring that I had perhaps overindulged and needed a break. I started to feel pretty good about it. After about two weeks of absolutely no dairy I went out for brunch and had toast with a smattering ofbutter on it. Back to square one.

I was unimpressed.

A few times after this, I had some accidental dairy (not listed in the ingredients at work, or something I hadn't checked the label of). Each time, I bloated like mad. I started to dub these incidents as having Milk Babies. Finally, after one accident, I developed a small rash on my stomach. I'd had enough. I quit dairy. I've turned into one of these crazy people you see in grocery stores pouring over the label, searching for hidden milk ingredients, sighing loudly when they're found on items that used to be favourites, or even staples in my household. By now I've discovered substitutes, but those first few weeks were trying and difficult.

The hardest part in all of this was cheese. For two months, I missed it. I craved it. I would nearly cry when an especially fabulous looking/smelling slice would pass my way. Friends would talk about some fantastic meal they had and it would inevitably involve some form of artisanal cheese. There was a cheese funeral in my head almost daily.

Now, three months later, I feel the need for cheese grieving has passed. Sometimes, I'm even a little nauseated by the smell of a (admittedly usually bad) chunk passing me by. I still think about it sometimes, but with less regret and sadness. I like to think that maybe in the next few months I might be able to reintroduce a bit of ramembert as a treat for myself, but my deep innate need for self preservation has so far prevented me from trying.

Some really wonderful things have happened since I stopped eating animal products.* I'm not dropping too much weight, but I do feel as though I am slowly becoming more svelt. My skin itches less. I'm drinking more water and eating more nuts. I'm getting more fibre, and I'm learning to feel full without adding piles of saturated fats (which outside of cheese I wasn't really getting at all).

Most notable, however, is that I have significantly less menstrual pain. My entire adolescence has seen monthly suffering with debilitating, incapacitating, sometimes vomit inducing cramping, nausea, headaches, bloating, heaviness and general malaise. In combination with homeopathy, eliminating dairy has helped produce the BEST periods of my life. I can function, I can eat, I can stand, I can even work while having my period, all thanks to homeopathic remedies and a mostly vegan diet.

It's been a hard battle discovering the hidden milk, finding substitutes that are both affordable and delicious, and getting over the sadness of not being able to eat a former favourite food. However, with all the good that has come from it, all the good I am feeling, and all the good I experience, I cannot possibly go back now.

*Note that I do not mention eggs as something eliminated. I have never been a huge fan of eggs and tended to avoid them anyway, so this was not something that was difficult for me to remove. I will, however, occasionally indulge in a non-vegan (but dairy free) breakfast item (muffin, bagel), especially at work where there are no available alternatives. I am fully of the opinion that it is better to bend the rules than be needlessly hungry, grouchy, and less cognitive. We are more likely to make poorer food choices later. Better to have half a bagel now and be energized enough to venture to find alternatives for next time.

Want to Win Something?

2010-07-12T07:11:00.000-07:00

There's a contest I know going on at Making Love in the Kitchen wherein you can win a cute apron from Aprons by Julie. Lots of cute styles to choose from. Try it out; see what happens!

Righteous Win Part II

2010-06-29T07:42:00.001-07:00

Lavender
As with most herbs, there is more than one type of lavender. I tend to use French Lavender myself because I think it's prettier and was historically used more in medicine. It is, apparently, difficult to grow as it is unhearty and best as an indoor plant. It is also sometimes called "fringed lavender" because of the shape of the leaves. The latin name "Lavendula Dentata" translates to Lavender with teeth.
Culinary: Lavender is also a member of the party "herbs de Provence" and lends a pretty, aromatic, and obviously floral quality to any type of cooking. Despite the frenchy name, it is english lavender who is most often used in cooking. It can be used fresh or dried, but note that the potency of the aroma is increased in drying, so one may use less than fresh. As can be expected, putting too much lavender in food will make it taste like perfume. Lavender is used more often in baking than cooking, although fresh flowers are awesome in salads. Adding some fresh flowers to sugar and sealing for a few weeks can make lavender sugar to be used in all types of baking. Lavender may replace rosemary in nearly any dish.

Medicinal: Lavender literally means 'to wash' and was often used as part of cleansers pre-windex. Many naturalists and chemical disparagers (raise your hands!) have begun to use lavender oil with water and apple cider vinegar as all-purpose washes for the home. Lavender has a calming effect on the nerves and is often used in aroma therapy to relieve anxiety, tension, and headaches. Laveder tea is used for the same. Lavender oil is antiseptic and anti-inflammatory. Oil applied to the temples can relieve headache. It can also be applied to bruises to aid in speady healing. When diluted in water in can help to treat acne topically. It may also help treatment of burns. Pillows filled with the flowers can aid in sleep and relaxation. Lavender oil should not be applied, and should be internally avoided during pregnancy.

Magical: Love, Protection, Sleep, Chastity, Longevity, Peace, Purification, Happiness. It is often made into sachets and placed clothes closets and drawers to scent clothing to attract love. It is said to protect against cruel treatment by spouse and scattered about the home to promote peace. It may be worn to protect against the evil eye. It has been used in incenses to celebrate Midsummer, when it is said to protect from wandering spirits. It is often used at handfastings to bring peace and stability to the relationship.

I'm a Homeopath

2010-06-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

Officially graduated, dilploma-ed and deemed fit for public consumption.

Now accepting new patients!

Visit my website for more information or contact:

info@riverflowhomeopathy.com
416.648.8860

Communications returned within two business days.

I'm excited!

Emily Presents:

2010-06-25T09:22:00.000-07:00

The Righteous Bag of WIN!

(Note: All information contained within is not meant to replace the advice of your personal qualified health care practitioner.)

I love growing things. I used to kill every green thing my black little thumbs touched: cactus, venus fly trap, bulb flowers, "unkillable" ferns; you name it, I've slaughtered it. A friend of mine once showed me a book called "Plants even YOU can't kill." After a short browse, I noted that I had destroyed at least 40% of the books offerings and placed it back on the shelf. Last year, I decided enough was enough. I bought good, beautiful, organic, and practical plants (generally all of these attributes in one) and set out to keep them alive.
Thus far, my success rate is about 60%. The spider plant is the biggest I've seen in a long time, the 2 basil plants suvived the winter and are going on one year old, the mint had a rough go for a while, but there are some buds poking through the once decimated soil, and the pretty yellow flowers are still alive and kicking. In the battle I've lost rosemary, thyme, and a butterfly plant. I mourned them properly.
The other day I decided it was time to strike out again. I headed out to China Town Redux (Broadview/Gerrard: my name is not the official title of the neighbourhood) to find some good, healthy and cheap potted herbs.
And what a find I had.
All the herbs I bought possess culinary, medicinal, and magical properties. Below is a short, keynoted list for each herb on my own balcony. I will do this one herb at a time, as I think they're all so glorious and deserving of individual posts.

I highly recommend balcony/backyard/rooftop gardening to anyone living an urban (herban!) lifestyle. They're beautiful, function, good smelling, magical and health giving. What more could a person possibly ask?

Marjoram
Culinary: marjoram is part of the collective "herbs de Provence" and is generally sweet and wonderful. Be sure to collect "sweet marjoram" else you'll have a flavourless mountainside herb with no value but its admittedly loveley greenery. There is also a variety called "wild marjoram" which is generally known as oregano. Sweet marjoram can be used dried or fresh, in cooking or raw in salads and as a garnish for just about anything. When looking into recipes using marjoram as the major herb, it seems to be paired with main ingredients possessing very strong flavours; lamb, brussels sprouts, chicken, beef, even onion. Marjoram is often nicknamed a 'meaty herb.' It is not generally used for baking.

What I've always found interesting is that one can use a significantly smaller amount of dried herb than that of fresh; about 1/3 the amount of dried to fresh is the average ratio. I assume this is because of the presence of volatile oil in relation to the amount of actual leaf matter, but I could be making this up. This is true for pretty much all herbs in the dried/fresh dichotomy.

Medicinal: Marjoram has many medicinal affinities with oregano, which is becoming more and more popular in natural medicine. Marjoram (and oregano as well) is a natural disinfectant, antifungal, antibacterial agent. It can aid digestion and ease stomach cramps and flatulence. It can be used to calm anxiety, releive menstrual cramps, and even help to calm fussy children. It is generally given as an herbal infusion (like tea); the leaves and flowers are used. Dr. John Christopher used marjoram as part of a tonic for diaphoresis (excessive sweating). It may also be used as a steam inhaled to clear the sinuses and relieve laryngitis. Professional singers often drink marjoram tea sweetened with honey to preserve their voices.
Marjoram is not to be used medicinally during pregnancy as the effects have not been sufficiently studied.

Magical: Ancient Egyptians used marjoram in the embalming process, and also burned along with other herbs to please the gods. This is likely because it is an extremely wonderfully aromatic herb, pleasing to more than just the gods. It is said that if marjoram is found growing on a gravesite, the person contained will enjoy a pleasant afterlife. Legend says that if one annoints one's self with marjoram before bed s/he will dream of one's future partner. Marjoram is universally thought to promote happiness and well-being.

Fun New Contest

2010-06-21T08:08:00.001-07:00

Hey Foodie Friends;

Aren't you tired of toxins? Tired or waste? Tired of getting stains on your teeth? Tired of trying to drink coffee with a straw only to have it melt on you causing coffee to dribble all over your summer brights thus causing a spiral of shame and anger while passers-by judge you slovenly and probably smelly leading to a terrible work day when you have to fight with your boss about being allowed to go home and change which sends you into a blind rage wherein you may or may not have started a fist fight with said boss?

Or maybe you have no idea what I'm on about.

Anyway, there's this really cool product I heard about a few weeks ago called the

Glass Dharma Straw. It's exactly what it sounds like. Solid glass straw. No more melting! No more teeth stains! NO MORE TOXINS! And right now, over at one of my

favourite blogs is a contest to win one. I highly recommend checking it out. You might even win!

Paris: Day 9

2010-05-31T07:01:00.000-07:00

Today, we ran to the Opera for a tour (which was dicounted as we had kept our tickets from D'Orsay). We went unguided because that is far more fun (and also because they have English tours on weekends only). Here we have la Grande Escalier
Upon first entering, we found a mirrored ceiling.

Because we're dorky, I took this photo.

Here is an image of a costume for an opera. I, however, would wear this headress on a daily basis:
Sculpture of a dancer:
We found the opera library, riddled with many manuscripts and scores. If Jim believed in heaven, this would be his.
We liked it so much, we took an extra photo. There were actually two rooms of this.
There were bats on the ceiling.
The whole building was somehow very smelly - urinal cake smelly. I had to step outside onto the balcony for a bit of respite.
After some fresh air, we stepped into one of the open boxes to see the main stage and theatre area. The ceiling is my favourite part.
This is me, enjoying the box and the ceiling.
The main stage.
The other boxes.
The infamous Box #5. It's locked, an no one is allowed in it. One cannot buy tickets for it, either.
The ominous staircase just outside of Box #5. It's roped off, disallowing use.
The angriest doorknob on the planet:
Afterward, we FINALLY had hot chocolate at L'Entract across the street, and it was as good as expected.
We subwayed across town back to the Bastille in search of a market which, after a LOT of wandering, we finally found, sort of by chance. It looked a lot like the St. Lawrence Market back in Toronto; very warehouse and a little scary on the outside, but once inside: paradise. We discovered some of the freshest produce, butchers, fisheries, cheese, and to Jim's delight artisanal beer! Not just any beer, but those that are difficult to impossible to procure in Canada (despite Smokeless Joe's). I selected a cherry beer entitled "Echt Kriekenbier" which later on proved to be sour and fabulous. When Jim tasted, he pronounced it awful, and decided the name was derived from what unsuspecting samplers shouted upon finally being able to swallow. Jim has severe disdain for sour.

I discovered a latent talent for creating and executing elaborate hair styles on myself while strolling through darkened avenues in 5" heels.

Jim and I were rejected from an empty, very chichi french club for no obvious reason other than Jim's abominable accent when speaking french. Thusly, we redirected ourselves back to Cafe Temple (the Marilyn Monroe monument and sanctuary). Here we had champagne and pretzles, and a server who had visited Montreal and love love loved Canadians. We found that they were also showing a monologue of the works of Simone de Beauvoir the following evening at 20h. Since jazz across the way begins at 21h, we could take in both and have a well packed Vendredi soir.

We stumbled the short trip home and fell asleep quickly (as I felt as though I may be coming down with a cold....)

2010-05-18T15:40:00.000-07:00

Day trip to the countryside! We took a 30min train ride and saw a LOT of the country between Paris and Versailles. We were meant to get off at "Versailles Rive Gauche"; I saw the letter V and "rive gauche" and pulled Jim off the train.Turns out, I was incorrect.
Luckily, the next train came by in 18mins. So I took some Kerouac-ian photos to fill in the gaps.
Once we got off at the correct stop (which is actually the end of this particular line), we followed the crowd of people (and the signs) to this:
Jim suddenly got all touristy and started snapping photos like a madman.

Yup, ALL the glories. They didn't want to leave anyone out.
Inside the palace chapel:
The Hall of Mirrors:
A surprisingly quiet staircase:
The outdoor amphitheatre:
The Gardens:
We spent the extra to be allowed access to the palace, gardens, and the private estates of Marie Antoinette, who is locally infamous and has become an international intruigue. Here is her kitchen. I love kitchens.
Kitchens are the centre of my life. It is in the centre of my parents' home, my first job was in a kitchen, my favourite apartment had a giant kitchen, and the subsequent home was basically a giant kitchen with a bedroom. It was all stunning.
The estates are like a small dwarfen countryside like one imagines in fairytales - a well, a windmill, cows, sheeps, horses, kitties, gardens still bearing vegetables (peppers, tomatoes, rhubarb). Besides the hamlet, there were wineries, more gardens and a full on farm.
The hamlet:
The Windmill:
The Farmhouse:

The other side of the windmill:
The Farm:

This mysterious door lead to an underground escape hatch from the house.
There were more. I assume this was to avoid possible village riots and mobs with torches and pitchforks.

As in true of most my adventures, there were rocky areas with trees and moss.There were wild blueberries growing along the grounds and I wanted to eat them.
We had dinner at Cafe le Bistro where they will have live jazz on Friday. Our favourite patisserie was closed so we enjoyed some chocolate from the previous day and fell into bed exhausted from a full day of walking Palace grounds.

Paris Day 7

2010-05-06T06:52:00.000-07:00

Tuesday morning in Montmartre! We avoided the crazy bracelet men like plague. Traversed a great number of stairs (there is a lift for the differently-abled) to the Basilique Sacre Coeur. From our vantage point we watched various street performers and heard a lot of music. We deemed many of the performers fun, but likely criminal distractions. One of the statue performers was awful; he couldn't stand still if you paid him, and considering that's the point of this gig, he was a pretty huge failure.
On this day we actually went into the huge church, where the requests for silence were most assuredly unobserved. No parishioners collecting donations, but a shocking and frightening number for homeless and less fortunate women crowded the entraces and exits looking desperate and ashamed.

Men with sketching pads were as abundant and Venetian gondoliers. Huge outdoor artist's square featuring completed works and offering charicature and portraits. I still have not found perfect souvenirs for friends, and perhaps I am destined for an absinthe cardholder after all. Discovered wonderful Italian restaurant with relatively reasonable pricing. Learned the existence of an erotic museum and gallery and have promised to make a visit another day. Bought chocolate at Jeff de Bruges.
Spent the evening strolling the Champs Elysees, watching "danse de la rue" (which is exactly what it sounds like) and photographing the arc de triomphe.

Turns out there's a military museum inside the arc. Who knew?
It was closed when we were there.
Still, a beautiful idea, if strange.
Traveling home we encountered a middle aged man in a business suit with exciting socks.
We slept like babies.

Paris Day 6

2010-05-02T14:47:00.000-07:00

The day dawned chilly and somewhat dark. Jim and I lost ourselves along Blvd Voltaire on the way to Place de la Bastille. We had coffee at Cafe de la Bastille, whose menu was significantly cheaper than most others we had seen.

La Bastille itself is in the centre of a roundabout, and marks the place where a huge prison used to be. As it was quite cold, we were in a hurry to keep the blood moving. Partway down Rue Henry IV, we were both like, "Oh no, we totally forgot to take a picture of it." So we touristically stopped in the middle of a moderately bustly sidewalk, turned around, snapped a photo, and carried on our merry way.

We continued to stroll down Henry IV and found a pretty park at Pont Sulley. Spent the afternoon strolling along the Seine shopping for art and kitschy gifts.

We lunched at Cafe des Beaux Artes, then wandered back to homebase through Ville St Paul wherein there was a nicely sized english bookstore run by an expat woman from Vancouver. She had named the store "The Red Wheelbarrow" in celebration of the poem by William Carlos Williams.
The vibe of this whole area of town is reminiscent of Leslieville, or Queen West (East of Parkdale). There are lots of young families whose parents sport tongue rings and tattoos, and whose children wear organic cotton clothes created by independent local designers.

My blister is growing.

We visited the Eiffel tower at late night. Clearly Paris is the "City of Lights" for a reason.

Took a great many photos and videos of lights, landmarks, ourselves, and the gnome all having a fabulous time. I spotted a carousel across the street and got all giddy, but it had closed some hours before. So instead, Jim and I made out on a park bench beside the Seine with the Eiffel tower blinking in the background. Total stereotype honeymoon evening.

This is complete and utter crap.

2010-04-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/ottawa-refuses-to-fund-abortion-in-g8-plan/article1547671/

Canada has decided to skirt the issues surrounding climate change by blind-siding the G8 with a new focus: the health of women and children in "developing nations." Nevermind that a great part of increasing the health status would include things such as clean water and uncontaminated food sources, What about the CHILDREN?! Pull at the heartstrings! Who can discuss the environment when there are babies at stake? DO YOU HATE BABIES?!

Nevermind also that companies who produce and market baby formula have inundated these women with messages that their breast milk is far inferior to their capitalist science. They hand out free samples of powdered formula, scare new mothers into feeding their kids with it, then jack the price so they can't afford more. Because of this, many of these mothers are putting less of the fancy powder into the bottles so that it will last longer, and mixing the powder with the contaminated water. So now, not only are babies starving, but contracting disease and parasites from this "superior" food source. (Please also note that the free sample is designed to last just long enough for the average woman's breast milk to dry up, thus forcing her to spend her meagre-to-absent funds on more formula.)

Nope, we don't need to think of the environment here.

To complicate and muddy the waters further, Harper has also decided that the new "health care" initiative will NOT include access to safe abortions.

"The inclusion of safe abortion services, where they are legal, is also promoted by many experts, because so many deaths are caused by complications from botched abortions."

Most family planning services in effect in various nations do currently provide funding for abortions. So really, in essence, Harper's plan doesn't intend to provide funding for family planning services at all. It is impossible to dictate to this sort of service where the funds from your particular establishment will and will not be placed. You either donate or you don't. There's no halfway.

Another concern: should this bizarre, anti-humanitarian anti-feminist ideology be adopted, when does it spread to Canadian law? It won't be long before abortions become illegal in Canada.

The best part of it is that most Canadians are too jaded and apathetic to do anything about it. We rally in Queen's Park, picket with signs, organize protests in various busy streets to raise awareness... on Saturdays when there's no one in Parliament. Or in the afternoon when government services have closed up for the day. Or only when we can get a permit to have a protest in a busy street to make sure we have police escorts.

Seriously?! Police escorts? Yeah, safety first and whatever, but seriously? The police system is designed to MAINTAIN THE STATUS QUO and keep things in ORDER according to GOVERNMENT IDEALS. No one's willing to put themselves out there, risk getting arrested or even threatened with arrest to make positive change in the world.

I am. But I can't do it by myself. It takes one to get it started, but it takes a village to get shit done.

Who's down?

http://www.cbc.ca/politics/story/2010/04/26/abortion-maternal-health.html

Gut Instincts

2010-04-21T13:12:00.001-07:00

Ever wonder what your insides are up to? I do. All the time, in fact.

As a practitioner of alternative medicine, I've made long and intensive studies into our various body systems, including digestion/elimination. I know what's supposed to happen, what's normal versus common, and what is very very weird and potentially dangerous. I'm aware of a great many pathologies that affect our intestines, what they do, how they do it, and how to make it stop. I'm usually pretty successful at sussing out reasons why things hurt and knowing how to put a stop to it.

For example: Here is a picture of normal intestinal anatomy.

I especially like the butt cheeks under the anus.

Here is a picture of what villi look like under a microscope:

Like happy folds of rainbow. That's right, you have rainbows growin inside of you. These rainbows are what help you absorb nutrients in food. Rainbows are totally rad and deserve to be treated with respect. This is both because of their awesomeness, and because if you don't you PAY.

When something goes wrong with our rainbows, all kinds of crappy things start to happen. In celiac disease, the rainbows are wrecked by gluten particles, which strangle and destroy them like weeds in a flower garden, leaving the yard devoid of all colour and happiness. Undiagnosed celiac disease can lead to INSANITY. Yep, insanity. Because you destroyed your rainbows. Think about that.

Other stuff can ruin rainbows too. Excessive sugar, caffeine, milk, and other common "sensitivity" foods that are difficult to digest cling to your rainbows and make them gunky and murky.

This of course tends to lead to pain, or gas, or the extremes of constipation and diarrhoea, all of which we have all experienced at sometime or another.

The moral of the story:

Take care of your rainbows.

Or else you LOSE.

Weekend Special: Paris Day 4 and 5

2010-03-08T07:03:00.000-08:00

Saturday was Laundry and Lady Day!
We found a close-by laundromat and a little park to stroll in during the wash and dry cycles. I spent much of the afternoon in bed due to some rather inconvenient pains, while Jim strolled about looking at some nearby landmarks.

In the evening, we wandered about the sketchy outskirts of Montmartre. We remained safe, then made our way to Opera station where we felt more at home. We found delicious dinner at Capucine Cafe. I had some accidental bacon - in dim light it appeared to be a sundried tomato. I am sad to admit that I found it delicious; so much so I had a second taste before dessert.
En route to nowhere, we discovered, in the middle of a square, a huge, unabashedly phallic monument with a guy standing on the top. The message: not subtle at all.
Behold the power of Man with Giant Penis!
The imagery, however, did not end there.
We have since dubbed Paris the "City of lights... and wangs."
We visited Place de la Concorde, where we witnessed a lit Eiffel Tower and a movie crew setting up a shoot. I took some drunken video (not shown), shot some fun photos. We strolled until we could stroll no more, then headed back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.
Sunday morning was spent in the 14ieme arrondissement where we found by happy accident the resting places of Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. We wandered through an outdoor artists' market, discovering many delights but none within price range. The bronze dancer figures were especially exquisite.
We made our way to the Ville around Montmartre. Discovered several street festivals; first with music and call dancing, then with jazz swing.
Strolled about window shopping and looking at food/restaurant prices and vowed to have dinner here this week.

Le French Kitty.
We made our way slowly through the crowds to Basilique Sacre Coeur, through the Grape Harvest Festival (Fete des Vindages).
It was terribly crowded, yet somehow the atmosphere remained jovial.I, on the other hand, was feeling hungry and murderous. Here I am, baring my teeth to Jim as if to say: Feed me, before I eat the innocent.
Is this a gargoyle... or an angry cow?
The gardens behind the basilique remained calm and peaceful, so the gnome got a good breath of fresh air.

Bought a few souveniers of old advert-postcards. Had a crepe au citron.
We were then approached by "African" men on the steps of the Basilique, who attached bracelets to us before we could stop them. They then demanded that we "give something." We tried to give them back, then finally dug out 1,50E and convinced them it was all we had. We hurried home, grocery shopped, and made a delicious dinner of salmon, rice, and salad for a lazy Sunday night.

Adventures in Food

2010-02-23T17:54:00.000-08:00

I love juice. I don't discriminate: veggie juice, fruit juice, mixed juice, cocktails, blends, if it's juiced I'll probably drink it. Over the years I've heard a lot of things about juice. It's good, it's bad for you, there's too much sugar, it's empty calories. All of these are true. I've come to notice just how much sugar there is in commercial juice and, frankly, it's appalling. This is especially true for fruit juice, especially blends, cocktails, or those made from concentrate. I've spent a lot of money on these sugar shakes, too. And I've enjoyed every single one of them. That said, I've decided to cut back on my sugar intake in general as well as take a good look at how my personal system works. I've noticed that, for me, I feel better with fresh, fabulous veggies in my system and very little else. I've also found that it's difficult to eat the recommended 5-10 servings of veggies each day without a little help from my good friend juice.
Recently I made an energetic trade with a friend and acquired a fabulous barely used Jack Lalanne power juicer. I love it. I juice almost every day. Here is a photographic journey in a day in the life of my kitchen. I hope you like it!
The veggies: celery, beets and beet greens, carrots and carrot greens, cucumber and lemon.All cut up and ready to be juiced!
Juicy goodness.
This is the pulp or "veggie poop" as it has been put to me by a large number of people. I ate it slightly moistened with salad dressing. It's surprisingly good.
Turns out, it's pretty tasty.
Thumbs up for good health!

Partings

2010-02-18T20:48:00.000-08:00

The world lost a great friend today.

Paris: Day 3

2010-01-27T19:12:00.001-08:00

Took the metro to the Opera house to obtain tickets to Giselle, only to discover it completely sold out. Disappointed, we headed across the Seine in search of Notre Dame, Musee D'Orsay and anything in between. We walked down the banks looking at the outdoor side shops we had no idea existed until this moment.We took an excessive number of photos at Notre Dame, but forgot to include the gnome.
Spent a good portion of time in the garden behind the Cathedral watching a couple have a fight while we enjoyed the air, the flowers, and the architecture.
We strolled down the Seine again until we found D'Orsay.
We had lunch in the cafe behind the clock tower.
We also received reduced admission for people under 30! How strange!Saw the shadow puppets used at Le Chat Noir shadow puppet theatre.
Rodolphe Salis is a genius. Many other great works were viewed, but closing time came before we got to any Monet.
We also discovered a vertical urban garden.
I want one.
We went to the park just beside the Eiffel tower, then to the base. I cracked my back hanging upside down from a bench.
We watched crows romp in the nature preserve in the garden beside the tower.
We got lost in the rain looking for the metro, and soaked doing the same. We loitred in a station until it let up a little, then ran to another to purchase tickets.
We all but skipped to a grocery store for wine, and the patisserie for a huge chocolate meringue and a fruit flan. Spent the evening dining on eggy potatoes, wine, dessert, and listening to the rain on the windows and the puddles.

Paris: Day 2

2010-01-20T20:47:00.000-08:00

(Table at Cafe Chat Noir)
We have not had success with Jim's computer today. We've mostly lost the past few days to inconstant and incomplete memory. (NOTE: Writing this blog using my journal notes written sometimes days after the actual events has sparked a surprisingly good amount of memories; stories, feelings, sensations, even tactile responses. Memories are so cool.)
Today I watched a raven SKIP along the stones of the concourse of the Louvre.
I revisited old art friends
(Jaconde, Psyche, Mercury, Jupiter, Diana).
I saw the medieval underbelly of the louvre as it was at one time a massive dwelling castle. We took a different route to the museum and found Paris Ghetto full of sketchy jewelry stores, nail salons, and places offering hair extensions.

The Louvre was exhausting and beautiful. Jim was pleasantly surprised by his level of interest and happiness in such a touristy activity.
My feet have become the abassadors of Blister Town. We strolled (read: limped) down the Champs-Elysees, sitting to rest on each bench we encountered.
We enjoyed overpriced beer at Cafe Montecristo (7 euros for the tiniest beer you've ever seen [nearly 20$ for a half pint of stella]). Because of the pain and massive amounts of rain we discovered the subway system wherein I nearly lost Jim to a faulty ticket until I convinced him to join the other Parisians and hop over the turnstyle, brandishing the ticket to any disapproving authority (who never even batten an eyelash).
We found our way to the now-familiar hood where we dined at "Les Deux Singes." They created a vegetarian entree for me involving salad, boiled eggs, potato and cheese.
We had a bit too much wine with not enough food, bought and utterly destroyed chocolate cake from the patisserie next door, stumbeld home and somehow managed to fix the mac. It can only be charged in the bathroom, which is apparently way-okay with me.
Cheers to the happy day!

Paris: Day 1

2010-01-08T16:23:00.000-08:00

We left the train station having not paid any extra charges (or, rather, having not paid what we should have in the first place). Our taxi driver into the city was a very fragrant man. I'm quite sure he was also somewhat ageist, as the couple in front of us at the taxi stand were over 50 and he idled on the sidelines until they were taken away. The drive through the city was a trip down memory lane for me, and a whole new experience for Jim. We didn't pass too many landmarks during those few moments, but I did point out the Bastille and the Republique. Turns out, that was the closest landmark to our new temporary home.

We arrived at the apartments many hours before check-in. We handed them our bags (for a fee); I changed outfits in the luggage holding room (because I smelled like train), then we headed out on the town, rather fragrant ourselves.

We accomplished a great deal pre-shower:

Petit-dejeuner at Cafe Temple, which is decorated entirely in leopard print and full of altars and homages to Marilyn Monroe. Even the toilet seat cover is covered in Marilyn. There are posters in the washroom whereupon she is done in sepia, but her lipstick is made of red rhinestones. We had espresso and sheep's cheese omelettes.

We strolled to Palais Garnier, passing a surprising and saddening number of Starbucks, noting that there had been NONE of these in Venice. We found Eglise Madeleine (which we noted is Presbyterian, although for the life of me I don't know why).
We walked to Place de la Concorde, where I cheered Jim with the sight of the Eiffel Tower (he was as tired and smelly as I, and did not approve of my cherriness). We strolled down Rue Rivoli, passed les Jardins, passed the Louvre, up Ponte Neuf and eventually back to Apartments St Martin.

The apartment itself was extremely cute. It reminded me of our friends' bachelor apartments in Toronto, but with a much tinier kitchen. On the plus: it HAD a kitchen (!), the bed was unbelieveably comfortable, and it smelled nice and clean.

We spent the afternoon showering, napping, grocery shopping, cooking and convalescing after several nights of bad bad sleep.

I set up the washroom to accommodate our needs for a week and a half.

I made a dinner of red wine, mashed potoatoes, salad with lemon juice, baguette, hummous, and cut veggies.

It even started to rain! One must order some rain on one's first night in Paris.
We took in a few (english) episodes of Grey's Anatomy before falling completely, utterly, blissfully asleep.

Venice: Day 3

2010-01-05T18:14:00.000-08:00

Awful awful sleep. Neverending stream of mosquitoes, feelings of dampness preventing slumber.

Final day saw espresso, the acquisition of a Team Italia Football hat for Will, serpent necklace for me, and a glass cow for Jim's mom.

We took a trip to the other side of the Rialto, which was much more residential, and full of beautiful personal terraces on rooftops.

We visited the interior of San Marco, wherein we were prohibited from taking pictures AND from walking on the floor. They set up wood planks over the tile to prevent wear, which is both really smart AND a little ridiculous.

We also spent some time at the fountain outside. This is the lion I fell in love with. He was pretty popular with the ladies. I had to wait a good ten minutes before I got to get a picture with him.

We took a picture of the gnome at the pigeon fountain. People loved it. Another tourist actually waved me away from him in order to get a picture for himself.
We also re-visitted Chaos Church, which was suddenly chained off to visitors.

We went back to Cafe del Doge, our now favourite espresso place in Venice.

We went to say good-bye to our 200 Year Old Hero.

He was a great landmark for many adventures, including the now-infamous complete disorientation brought on by Chaos Church the previous afternoon. We wondered if maybe the dates were some sort of chisel-typo, but we had no idea who to ask. (He seemed important and we didn't want to accidently case offense.) We also found a unique, unmarked building that was clearly some sort of occultish church in days gone by.

I fell in love with it almost immediately. I'm pretty sure it's a residence now, and I want to live there.

We pre-visited the train station, took the last of our photos then headed to Venezia-Mestre... much too early.

So early, in fact, that we were still hungry. I ate like a normal person. Jim on the other hand.....

He claims it wasn't very good. I'm unsurprised.

The first thing that came to mind when we were escorted to our shared quarters on the Euro Rail train was entirely inappropriate and not to be repeated here; however let me set the scene:

6 tiny bunk beds in a 10x10 train car

6 giant suitcases

top beds that are lying-room only

an entire family of 5 already ensconsed in the cabin, plus their 12month old daughter who was not wearing any pants. The entire family was also rather thin, spare, and tired-looking. They were, however, extremely nice and helped Jim and I put our suitcases on the top bunks (as we were assigned), welcomed us nicely, shook hands, etc.

Once we settled in, we discovered we hadn't paid the proper price. Marciano, the ticket-checker, promised to do his utmost to hide it, but warned that we may be asked to pony up at the end of the line. Then he took our passports and left. This completely freaked me out. I thought for sure we were going to be left stranded in a European jail with no proof of Canadian citizenship. Minutes into the journey, Marciano returned and asked us to follow him. I nearly passed out. He lead us down the hallway, through the connecting doors to another car, then motioned to a different door. Turns out, he was moving us into an empty car! He wanted to allow the family we were staying with to stay together (the 5th person was an uncle who bought his ticket late and was put into the cabin next to his family). Being as this cabin was empty, he thought it would be nice to allow us to be alone; just us. So not only did we save about 100 euros on the journey, we got upgraded.

During this exchange, we discovered that ticket checkers are required to hold on to everyone's passports in order to show them all to the various border-guards as we would be travelling across a few (Italy, Switzerland, France). Relieved and palliated, Jim and I finished the bottle of vino we purchased the prior day in Venice, talked for a long time, watched the dark Italian countryside fly by, and eventually tried to get to sleep. But even in private quarters and after a terrible night's sleep, one was able to maintain her traveller's insomnia. I woke at each stop to see where we were, despite knowing we were going to be in transit for more than 12 hours. At one stop, something lurched extra hard, and suddenly the wall next to my face was rattling uncontrollably until I MacGuyvered a method of keeping it steady (involving plastic sheet wrap being stuffed into the crack between the wall and the ceiling.

I was tired, smelly, without passport, completely at the mercy of Rail Europe, but still somehow excited and happy to be exactly where I was.

Venice: Day 2 Part B

2010-01-05T06:21:00.001-08:00

At San Marco, the line for a tour was astronomical. So instead, we continued our wander. We discovered this interesting little gem:
This is some kind of church with a museum attached to it. I'd love to tell you to what or whom it is dedicated, but all of the inscriptions were in Greek (actual Greek, with the greek alphabet and everything) so I've no idea. What I DO know is that most of the images found inside the church were of war, death, destruction, and gave a really angry almost evil vibe. We left quickly.

Once we left, we were hopelessly lost. For two hours, we wandered the tiny streets, tired, confused, and a little freaked out. We tried to use Jim's iPhone GPS, but the little blue dot couldn't find us anywhere. Half the streets were unmarked. Somehow, the crowds disappeared. We were stranded until we found our 200 Year Old Hero (more about him the following day). We took a bit of a break, grabbed some wine and fruit and had a little lunch in our hotel room.

Post-late-lunch, it started to get a little dark, so we deemed this the best time to have our prescribed gondola ride!Our Gondolier was this large, somewhat crusty dude, who suddenly turned into the nicest man in the universe when he found out we were honeymooning. He didn't even comment when I pulled out the gnome for a cute shot.
He started to guide us through the channels, telling us fun historical facts, pointing out political buildings... he even started singing during a stretch of particularly dark alley.

We went UNDER Ponte Rialto, which immediately ensconced us in about 100 people's vacation photos.
This is us. Obviously. Aren't we cute?

We had dinner at a bridge-side restaurant (where one clearly pays for the view, but the food was delicious). The day was busy, exciting, somewhat nerve-wracking, and over all beautiful. We fell into bed happy, fed, and feeling like we were having the experience we were meant to have.

Making Art

2010-01-03T06:52:00.000-08:00

Sort of.

I've decided to make a vision board. This is something that had been proposed over on the great blog "Crazy Sexy Life" (see sidebar). It can be bascially anything you want, of anything you want, on anything you want, about anything you want. Its purpose is to assist you in manifesting your desires.

I've decided to use my refrigerator door, pictures, magnets, and all assistance offered by the universe and its cohorts. I'm calling it a three year manifestation plan. I've found images of lots of places I want to travel to, goals I have for myself physically and mentally, inspirations, inticements. I've made them attainable. I haven't asked "how" only "what." And I've already decided that if I don't get everything on the list it's not that big of a deal. I can add and subtract, multiply, re-evaluate, rage, laugh, and change my mind about anything at any time.

I'm pretty excited about this. I encourage everyone and anyone to make zer own too.

Here are a few samples of my goals. Can you guess what they are?

Peace and peas.

Venice Day 2: Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but not when it's Italian Pizza.

2009-12-12T06:48:00.000-08:00

Time has begun to feel more like normal. After sleeping a tad later than I probably should have, we woke and went forth to find espresso.
We broke fast on espresso, cappuccino, bananas and peaches. We wandered over bridges we missed the previous day.
We visited Chiesa degli Scalzi, which houses an actual "school of mysteries." It is full of goddess images, disguised as the Christian virgin.

There lives the sculpture of the Ecstasy of St. Therese, a controversial artwork depicting the Saint being nearly impaled by an arrow... also the image of the Black Madonna crowned with stars. We hopped over the Ponte degli Scalzi in search of the Gallerie Accademia. First we nun-spotted (three), found a fantastic little park with a pigeon fountain full of finches, and wandered a great many side streets.
Eventually, we found the Ponte Accademia, which we happily crossed only to find the Instituto of Art and Letters.

This has become (or perhaps always has been?) a modern art gallery wherein we found all sorts of interesting works of glass and lights.

We lunched at a little sidewalk cafe, had a little vino and espresso,

and overheard the server telling another patron that the accademia was actually on the other side of the bridge we had just crossed to look for it. Chagrined, we headed back over, only to follow the signs to the entrance which was roped over and covered with scaffolding. We followed further signs to the box office and found it closed.

We quit Accademia. We followed the waterfront to many churches. We decided at this time to head back to San Marco to attempt a tour.

More to come later!

Venice in Real Time

2009-12-08T13:44:00.000-08:00

Exerpts from my actual paper journal carried with me during the trip.

Venice Day 1:
After a long and sleepless flight, we arrived at Marco Polo Airport
(actual name) at 8:45 local time. This, of course, means that my
little Canadian body thinks it's still 2:45 and is all like, "Dude,
what are you doing up right now?" We ignored these feelings happening
in both of us, found our luggage and a taxi, and made our way to the
"terminal."
The entrance to Venice proper is a giant bus terminal beside a train
station, then a huge pedestrian bridge. There is absolutely NO
driving the streets of the island. Zero cars. Also, so far, zero
bicycles. There are, however, plenty of water taxis, gondolas, and
privately owned boats. It's wonderful to see doors on the water's
edge leading obviously to the garage where a person stores his or her
boat. Also interesting to note are the bridges leading directly to a
person's front door.
Upon arrival, Jim and I immediately were both completely enamoured,and
completely lost. Luckily, we were two hours early for check-in time,
so we had the opportunity to be lost without penalty (besides having
to drag extremely heavy sacks around with us in the tiny streets and
even tinier "Calle"s. Eventually after using an expensive GPS
tracking, we made our way to Alloggi Henry, an adorable 3 star hotel
in the back of a tiny side street. It opens onto a large shared
terrace. Being as we were several hours early, we did not receive a
room immediately. However, the generous and friendly proprietor took
our bags from us, hid them behind the desk and told us to go find
something to eat. He gave us a map and the business card of a
restaurant he appreciates and told us to come back in one hour. He
spoke mostly french to us as my limited Italian is very rusty and Jim
has less of it than I, but we both have a surprisingly good grasp of
our old dusty french.
So we wandered for an hour, afraid of getting lost, but refusing to
refer to the map yet. Hilariously, we found a LUSH, something we had
previously believed to be an entirely North American obsession. We
also found a liquor store open on Sundays,followed a Nun down a dark
alley, were followed by a priest down the same dark alley. Jim had
his very first Italian pizza (Margherita) experience, which was a joy
to watch. We may have permanently ruined pizza for ourselves.
Following this, we grabbed some fruit from an outdoor market, seduced
the world's largest bottle of water and took our winnings back to the
hotel to check in.
The room is extremely cute: low double bed, tiny closet, tiny shower,
huge curtains. Once we had washed away the smell of airplanes, napped
a bit and changed our shoes we were back out, looking for experiences
and photo opportunities. We almost immediately found a good photo-op
and sent it out to our parents and friends to let them know we had
arrived. Then we found espresso. Nothing, and I am completely
serious, will EVER be better than the espresso and the Americano we
shared at this local cafe. We fumbled our way into buying a tin of
the house blend (cute tin + delicious espresso = happy Emily). After
this, we toddled around the nearest square and came upon the Scuola
Grande di San Teodoro where, that evening, they were showing "I Musici
Veneziani," a sort of Baroque/Opera variety show. Of course we bought
tickets and were delighted to have grand evening plans.
So many shops were full of theatrical masks and costumes, many others
full of decorated notebooks, quill pens and calligraphy sets, chess
tables, jewelry, and other things to entertain the both of us. Then,
by a bit of luck and a bit of map work, we found Piazza San Marco.
Jim has never loved a church until now. I even managed to convince him
that we should take a tour the following day, as things had since
closed. The size, the architecture, the art, the sheer amount of
money that has clearly gone into making this a beautiful tribute to
the Christian god is overwhelming. Across the water you can see Isola
di San Giorgio Maggiore, and entire little island devoted to an overly
large Catholic church.
By now it is somehow getting late and we have to head back to the
hotel to change and prepare for an evening of opera.
The performances were sublime. The whole orchestra was flawless. The
tenor had the gift of perfect pitch. The baritone was charismatic and
entertaining, The soprano possessed not only great gifts but also
great versatility (I had never heard a quiet section of song in an
opera until this night). Also, the tenor bore a striking resemblance
to one of my uncles.
Following musical bliss was gastronomical heaven. Never had I found
such a well prepared and enormous fillet of grilled salmon. Never
either had a Pinot Grigio fit a meal as well as it did this meal.
Then, of course, we stood on a huge bridge overlooking the Canal
Grande, (Ponte Rialto) took a few pictures, and made out like happy adolescents
before making our way back to our tiny room with giant curtains and
collapsing into a joyful sleep.

First we take Manhattan...

2009-11-25T17:36:00.000-08:00

This weekend marks the World Premiere of "behind the Veil" by Evolution Dance Theatre.

I feel like I've been working on this production forever. Actually, it has been about a year since we first began rehearsing. We insisted on a haitus last October in order to allow our Fearless Leader to recuperate from some family tragedy, and also to allow me and the other principles some time to focus on other aspects of our lives (noteable school work, and making money). It hasn't been easy getting to this place. I've had a good number of fights with the director, with some of the new dancers, my pas de deux partner, and even myself about any number of things (choreography, costumes, time commitments, injuries, scheduling... the list goes on). I probably took on more than I should have (first soloist, rehearsal director, costume mistress). I tried to delegate, and not be too precious about things. I tried equally to convince the creator to delegate and not be too precious with things. I'm not sure how successful I was at most of these tasks.

I think the dancing will be worth the watch. Despite the arguing, the long hours, the massive bruises both physical and emotional during partner work, I think it will finally all pay off. I'm looking forward to this weekend both because people will FINALLY see all this work, and because it will be over. I need a break. I need to re-focus on school, and physical well-being (back to Bikram!). I need to have Sunday night dinner with my Chosen and friends. I need to socialize outside of the dance world. I need to live.

If you aren't otherwise occupied this weekend, come out and see us perform at the Isabel Bader Theatre in Toronto. Saturday 8pm, Sunday 2pm. Tickets are available through ticket master.

It promises to be a good show. Look for me; I'm the one who never wears pants.

Oh Television....

2009-10-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't really watched television in about a year. I will watch programs, but usually online after they have aired, or I'll download things as needed, or sometimes Jim will invest in purchasing an entire finished series on DVD.

This evening, I'm not feeling very well. I decided I need to take things easy, so I've turned off my brain and turned on the TV for the first time in a LONG time. I was almost instantly annoyed, enraged, and completely blown away with the hillarity of advertisements, news, propaganda, and the absolute parody media has become.

In keeping with current trends, all of the headlining stories (on four channels) was the rush for the H1N1 vaccine. Right now, it is only being made available to a limitted population ("high risk" people including children under 5, people over 65, and people who are otherwise immunocompromised) in a very small number of clinics (two in all of Toronto). Most of the broadcasts went on and on about the extremely long lines, the panic many people are experiencing over not being allowed to have the shot yet or being unable to get it because of the long lines... There were a great number of interviews with seemingly healthy people who felt entitled to the shot because their kids are little (which makes sense), or simply because they were terrified of getting the flu. There were many close-ups of people waiting in line wearing face masks and clutching platic purel bottles.

The newscasters went on to explain the symptoms of H1N1: the exact same symptoms of the regular flu, but can sometimes include diarrhoea. Sometimes. The difference is that actually H1N1 symptoms tend to be milder. It does tend to last longer, but generally only because since sick individuals only stay home from work if they feel really really terrible, and "swine flu" doesn't make a person feel as bad.

Immediately following this broadcast came a news story about a bakery giving free classes to families with children on baking cupcakes and cookies. The subsequent commercial break/sponsorship announcement was from Pizza Pizza. Most of the actual commercials during this (and most other) break(s) were for fast food, sugary treats, and, unsurprisingly, cold medication.

Don 't misunderstand; there is hardly any bigger fan of pizza and cupcakes than I. However, I have never been a fan of vaccinations and have never felt compelled to get them. I fully agree with the adage about an ounce of prevention. Healthy, plant-based diet and moderate exercise are good pillars toward maintaining good health in the face of encroaching illness.

What a lot of people don't recognize is that sugar is an immunosuppressant. Every teaspoon of sugar reduces the body's killer T-cell count by about half. Ever notice that most "cold and flu seasons" immediately follow Hallowe'en, Christmas, and Valentine's Day?

The H1N1 vaccine is currently untried, untested, and it is not yet known exactly how safe it is or what side effects may occur. The illness itself is pandemic (simply meaning easily contageous), but less severe than the average "regular" flu. Yes, it has claimed lives; the regular flu's number is much higher. Higher still are heart disease, cancers of all types, car accidents... the vaccine is being marketted by Big Pharma as the best prevention; I vehemently disagree. Yes, the idea of the vaccine is fine, and there are some who may benefit from it (little kids, the elderly, the immunocompromised) if proven safe and effective. However, as with taking any unproven medication, it carries the risk of being more dangerous than the virus itself. Should you decide that it is correct for you, please keep in this in mind.

As for me, I have an immune system. While I might not feel at my best tonight, I know I need a little rest, tonnes of liquid, lots of veggies, and a little faith in my own body's ability to handle intruders. Good luck out there!

Retrospective: Venice: Day 1

2009-10-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Venice (flight attendant in Philadelphia pronouced it Venus and we giggled) at 8:30am local time (or 2:30am body-time). We cabbed from the airport to the bridge that leads to the island, then walked for a good distance and got a little lost before finding our lodgings. Here we are letting our parents know, photographically, that we have landed:
We were about 2 hours early for check-in. Our hotel manager/owner, however, was possibly the NICEST MAN EVER. He took our bags from us, told us he'd watch them and to go have some fun. So we bounced out the door and into the city in search of some food. Jim had his first real italian pizza experience. We managed to wander about for a bit before becoming too tired to carry on. Once check-in time arrived, we headed to our temporary home in search of a nap.
Re-energized we venture out for coffee (or espresso to be specific. Coffee doesn't really seem to exist in most european countries). We found a cute cafe beside the Music Hall called Cafe del Doge and had possibly the greatest espresso experience of my life.
Not really knowing what to do with ourselves, we bought Opera tickets for the evening then set to exploring the city. We immediately found Piazza San Marco, named so for the GIANT church (chiesa) devoted to St. Mark. Here is but a small portion of the overly huge Cathedral.
Within the square are also found a clock tower, many little kiosks and shops, restaurants and, my absolute favourite, the zodiac clock.
In fact, throughout the city, interspersed with all the Catholic iconography, is tonnes and piles of pagan idolotry and occult symbology. The tiny island city literally pulses with magic.

We crossed a great number of bridges (pontes) and remarked at the number of stairs and how the entire city is not very handi-capable. Not a ramp to be found. We marvelled at the waterways, the entirely-pedestrian traffic (no cars or bicycles anywhere). We even saw a few gondola traffic jams.
We toyed with the idea of retiring to this tiny village. Imagine this is your back yard:
We danced, we romped, we went to the opera, had fabulous fish for dinner, and went to bed unconscienably late for jet lagged travellers, anxious to start our full day of fun the following morning.

Homecoming

2009-10-19T06:55:00.000-07:00

We've returned.
I promise to give a good full recap of everything that went on once I'm recovered my Canadian Circadian (not to mention digestion). Fow now, a recap:

Venice was stunning. For such a little place, it held onto a LOT of stuff. There are so many churches and temples, nearly all of them Catholic, but there is also much occult and pagan imagery built into it that I felt right at home. My limitted Italian and Jim's NO Italian actually managed to get us pretty far; we ordered food correctly and didn't accidently end up with pork belly instead of a cheese sandwich or something. We always found the correct wine. I had to eat salmon quite a bit since I received a few sideways glances when I mentioned the word "vegetarian" in passing. (I had already checked Happycow.com... NO veggie restaurants in Venice). I didn't meet a meal I didn't like. We went everywhere, saw everything, got lost a few times, slept badly, drank a lot of espresso, walked much and had a ridiculous blast.

Paris... there isn't anything bad to say about Paris. Okay, one thing: it doesn't smell very good. And once we were denied entry into a nightclub for no obvious reason... wasn't full or anything.... but I digress. Once again, we did everything we could possibly think of. We did tourist things like museums, churches, various neighbourhoods and landmarks. We did non-tourist things like groceries, laundry, and tiny side-shops. We spent 11 days assimilating into a culture that was surprisingly close to our own. Our moderate french got us through most situations (except for the aforementioned club rejection), and a goodly number of customer service and serving staff spoke enough english to get us past any serious language/vocabulary blocks. We even found a cafe server who had visited Montreal and loved Canadians. On our last day, we found an American/British run juice bar where the staff was entirely english speaking (but spoke french to us upon our arrival) and gave us a good taste of clean eating after many dinners of baguette and cheese. Which is not to say anything negative about baguette and cheese! There was a patisserie on the corner near where we stayed with the happiest baker we have ever encountered. She loved her job, loved her life, dealt with our slurred drunken french (she was across the street from the local pub, Les Deux Singes) and did everything with a bounce in her step and smile on her face.

Now back at home I'm ready to hop into homeopathy and re-devote my life to moderation. I plan on doing everything with a smile on my face, a bounce in my step, loving what I do and how I do it.

Details to follow!

Countdown

2009-09-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

Here I am, four and a half days before I become a wife. I am more than totally cool with this idea (if not the word and its colonial and antifeminist connotations). I do, however, have anxiety in the following arenas:
1. Making two ipod playlists (classical for dinner, dance for after the jazz band packs it in).
2. Getting all of my homework done in the next 2.5 days so I can mail it before I take off.
3. Figuring out my hair situation.
3b. Getting a hair cut today to ensure I have nice bangs and shape framing my face.
4. My bridesmaids gifts have not yet arrived in the mail.
5. I absolutely MUST buy flats TODAY as there is no other time to make this happen.
6. I think I`m getting a cold.
So I sit at my computer, drinking echinacea tea and eating orange sections, reading holistic health research and pro-con lists about vaccinations, planning my afternoon of haircut and shoe shopping with Nadine, watching the wind blow everything out of proportion, and hope this icky, snotty, headachey, anxierrhoea disappears as days go by.

It's Official

2009-09-17T09:40:00.000-07:00

I have an etsy shop. I have two items in this shop. You should come look at my shop:

http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=8055092&&ga_search_query=knit+poncho&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_page=&order=date_desc&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title

My stuff looks like this:
You know you want it....

New Projects

2009-09-04T07:11:00.000-07:00

Having decided to have cupcakes in lieu of a wedding cake, finding a cake holder has been something of an impossibility; at least not in the size needed to hold about 50 cupcakes or so. Not being one to be thwarted, and having some of the most resourceful friends on the planet, I found various different instructions and methods to build one's own cupcake tier.

Begin with the correct materials. I chose to use glass and stemware, as it's more stable in my mind than "cake cardboard." Also, finding and purchasing cake cardboard was proving difficult and expensive. Amy and I found these plates and glasses at value village. Total cost: $20.
I built this a few times in the store with different glasses and different plates to try things out. Everyone in Value Village thought I was weird. Yes, Value Villagers thought *I* was weird.

I brought everything home and washed it up. Then I got down to business.
Jim had some good paints in primary colours. I made brown. I figured since brown is a wedding colour, and I like brown, and will probably use this tier again in the future, brown is a good choice. The first one turned out like a beautiful chocolate disc.

The others somehow turned out a bit... purply. But they all turned out the same colour. The bottom is somehow a bit more brown than the others. I think it has something to do with the frosting of the bottom glass and the relative clarity of the other four...

However, I still like them a lot.
And here it is. I haven't glued it together yet, but that's the basic idea. I was thinking of putting some leaves inside the glasses, or painting some orange/red leaves onto the plates...

In other exciting news:

Our RailEurope tickets came in the mail yesterday. We leave Venice at 8pm and arrive in Paris at 8am. We're sharing a car with four other people (which isn't ideal, but the price difference is quite significant; besides, I don't care much if other people watch me sleep. Gennie pointed out that the other compartment dwellers might shag or something, but that's surprisingly not bothersome).
We're less than one month away and I think we might actually be close to ready for it.

Americani

2009-08-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

Friday night I had a brief conversation with a coworker from Latin America. He told me that in school, they learn of only five continents: Africa, Australia, Antarctica, Eurasia and America. Outside of this being a lot of "A" places, it seems to make a lot of sense; All of the Americas are one giant land mass, and Europe and Asia touch as well.

This, therefore, lead us to discussing the concept of being American vs. Mexican vs. Canadian vs. Latino etc. Technically, he says, we are all Americans, but he definitely things of himself in terms of Mexican and Canadian. Further, I would also be American, but identify as Canadian as it is my country of origin. Why, then, am I so offended when I am "mistaken" for American? What's more, why are only people from the United States generally called "Americans" to the exclusion of all other types of Americans?

Central/South Americans learn us all as American, and don't really differentiate between the hemispheres. When we want to be specific, we can be Brazillian, Mexican, Canadian, Peruvian etc. So why do US citizens get the monopoly on the simple "American?"

These days, of course, it would take a grand effort of linguistic re-appropriation to convince Canadians, Mexicans etc. to identify as "American" because of the grossly negative connotations surrounding the word, much in the same way many women are offended by the terms "Cunt" and "Bitch" (both being translations of ancient words for Priestess). We would also have to think of some other term for the current "Americans," such as U-S-ers, or Statesians (maybe U-S-ians?). I'm not sure how this would go over with the Almighty Superpower, either.

Today I learned that the reason North Americans (and probably Europeans, and I'm not sure who else as I have not experienced all education systems) differentiate continentally between North and South America, as well as Europe and Asia, has to do with tectonic plates and how they are laid out; just because the continents seem connected on the surface does not mean they actually are. Or something like that. This makes me wonder about Central America then; is it tectonically North or South, or is it its own thing and we haven't had time to update the maps into eight continents? If anyone has answers I would certainly like to hear them. In the meantime, I will continue to think up non-ridiculous terms to apply to citizens of the United States that go beyond simply "American" as it belittles the rest of us on the (two) continent(s).

Feeling like a Bride... I think.

2009-08-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

Tuesday I had my very first and fabulous dress fitting.

In February I began the quest that most bride's look forward to, but I dread: Finding the Perfect Dress. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE dresses, I enjoy shopping, and I'm as excited as the next bloke to find something pretty. The prospect of shopping for a wedding dress, however, filled me with apprehension. I had no idea what I was looking for, or what I was getting myself into.

My friends and I all managed to have a Saturday off, so we met up early and started to hit my local bridal boutiques (I live right on the edge of Greek-town, so there are a surprising number to be found). The very first place we went we were asked to remove our shoes. Now, I had been warned about this, but I thought it would be only in very eccentric, over-the-top shops. Apparently, this has become common practice throughout the industry. And me in my Christmas socks. At least they didn't have any holes. As we trotted through the store, I noticed several things:
1. Everything was VERY white.
2. Everything was VERY fluffy.
3. Everything was VERY big.
4. Everyone in the store was VERY coiffed.
I was lost in a sea of crinoline, taffeta, silk, satin, and many many layers of fabric. Not to mention many dimensions of ugly. We did manage to find a few un-heinous selections and started to carry them around.
Eventually, we were approached by an unsmiling sales woman who immediately took us to task: "Do you have an appointment?"
No hello. No good morning. No pleasantries. No smile. No appointment.
"What are you looking for?"
A wedding dress. No, seriously. A wedding dress. In a bridal store.
"When is your wedding?....Oh, that is not enough time."
Eight months is too short notice for one of these dresses?
"Well, we try them on, see what we can do." And off she goes to start a fitting room for me.
The fitting room is the size of my apartment. My friends and I crowded in and I undress. It took all four of us to get me into this dress. It's huge. It's about four feet too long, six inches too wide, and made me look like a little girl playing dress-up. Now, clearly all wedding dresses require some degree of alteration, and I'm sure that given half a chance this dress would look just fine on someone of greature stature. I, however, stand at a towering 5'2" and have a girth of about 120lbs soaking wet.
Still-unhappy sales woman pulled back the curtain, took one look at me and said "There are larger mirrors this way" and walked out fully just expecting me to follow. What's a shellshocked girl to do? My entourage (as they were all holding the dress on for me) followed me out into the parlour, past a woman who has very obviously had her hair and make-up done for this fitting and who looks mighty pissed that we are also in the room and GIGGLING no less, up onto a little pedistal in front of the world's biggest mirror.
I looked ridiculous. There is a picture of this, but it's print not digital so I cannot share, but we were nearly thrown out for taking it. It's about this time I realized that floor length is really not for me, so we mentioned this to Madame People Skills who informs me that they don't carry "Those kinds of things here."
We hauled my tulle toting tushee back into the fitting room to try on dress number two. In the midst of stepping out of one dress and into the other, topless, Ms. Acrimonious barged in with another dress shouting, "What do you think of this one?"
I think I'm topless and the entire store just saw my boobs, thank you very much.
It didn't help that down the front of the bodice were enormous fabric flowers made out to look like giant buttons. Yeesh.
Dress number two didn't even make it out of the gate. Still too big, still too long, still too ugly. It even had a little shoe-lace type bow around the waist.
Please note the face.
After taking one hillarious picture of my socks under a waterfall of tafetta, we decided it was time to move on.
We went to another traditional bridal store in the neighbourhood (much less traumatic, and therefore much less funny to relate) before we called it quits on tradition. I put my shoes back on, pulled up my socks, and headed to Queen West fashion district.
Along the popular strip is a store I have always loved but never purchased from: Pam Chorley's Fashion Crimes (http://fashioncrimes.ca/#). Inside I found every dress in every style I have ever worn or wanted to wear. I heard rock music. I smelled indie perfume. I felt at home. I got to keep my shoes on. And it is here that I found my almost-perfect dress. Then I discovered that I could make it into my perfect dress for only a fraction more of the price, and the price would include ALL alterations and fittings. I nearly fell over. The staff was friendly, happy, helpful, enjoying their work and even go so far as to remember my name weeks later. The other patrons in the store were SMILING and looked happy to be there. I was sold. And so, therefore, was my dress. I cannot post pictures or describe it here as of yet since Jim reads this blog and doesn't want to know, and I LOVE keeping happy secrets from him. ;) I bought and co-created my dream dress for under $500. (Did I fail to mention that all the traditional cake-dresses at Miss Surly's shop were all well over $1200?)
On Tuesday I had my first real fitting and felt like a rock star. I went early in the morning, right at opening so there was no one else in the store; just me, the staff, and thousands of pretty dresses, the prettiest one on my body. I have another fitting in just over two weeks wherein we will also discuss accessories and possibly good places to get shoes (shoes are giving me issues). I can't wait.
The joy of non-tradition is that I can actually get what I want. I can have my cupcakes on the table, not on my person, and eat them, too.

Dear Crappy Waitress Job;

2009-08-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

When we first began seeing each other three years ago, everything was fabulous. The work-load wasn't too extreme, the clientel was... variable but generally pretty good. The tips were included on meals, but extra for drinks, but at least there was a decent guarantee of going home with a certain amount every single night. By the middle of our first year together, we had let go of that guarantee in order to bring in more business. I resisted at first, but soon found that it made only a little difference in our relationship and my wallet, so I held on. Also, the promise that this included gratuity would return every holiday season, and with larger group bookings, kept my hope and loyalty alive.

During the summer months of each of these years, we have taken vacations from each other to ensure our relationship doesn't grow stale. These trips only lasted two weeks or so, which allowed us time apart to grow fond of each other, perhaps even miss each other just a little bit. I always came back to you, knowing you could help support me and my grocery habits, and accommodate my school schedule.

Over the last year or so, things have been rough. Management competency has dwindled, and with it the clients, the business, and the tips. I would blame the economy, but that isn't really the whole problem. You recently lost your entire kitchen staff and I sympathize with this loss. But then you hired a slew of new (and unneccessary) waitstaff along with the new kitchen staff. You stopped calling me in order to ensconce this new staff; you placed our long-standing relationship on the back burner. Ten weeks I waited for your call for naught. I began to think that maybe we were through; you had found a new love and it was time for me to move on. Then, yesterday, I called you just to check in, and you asked me to come. I was nervous, but still excited as it had been so long since I had seen you.

When I arrived, I learned of some changes to policy, packages, and general ideals and I have to tell you: You have reached a new low. Removing the gratuity from the show/dinner package may bring in the clients, but it will send out the waiters. People who are not presented with a bill at the end of an evening will certainly not remember to shell out a gratuity on a dinner paid for days, weeks, or even months in advance. And while most of the clients we have are delightful people, I cannot pay rent using pleasant company of strangers. Last night, having served over twenty five patrons, I went home with just over $50. After doing the math, I realized that this package has actually cost ME $40. After the requisite 20% tip-out to the wonderful bartender, sub-par food expediter, and non-existent busser.

You promise that the package will go into remission come September, that this is a temporary measure to ensure that your staff remains "employed." Funny, for ten weeks I was "employed" with no work, and in return essentially lost money for coming in.

I am not sure what I'm going to do with you. You haven't always been delightful to me, you've caused me anxiety, you've treated my friends like dirt, and now you've begun to actually cost me income. I have already committed to coming in this evening. There is a distinct possibility that this will be our last rendez-vous. If I didn't have a wedding to pay for I would have told you to hit the skids last night right before service began. Further, it seems rude to walk away from you when my manager is on vacation; it feels cowardly. Thus, I will see you tonight, likely for the last time.

We've had some laughs, we've had good times, but all that ended within our first six months together. It's time to say good-bye and let go of each other with love. I hope you will be very happy.

Sincerely,
Me.

Just a short post

2009-08-12T08:02:00.000-07:00

To let everyone know that the butterfly bush has bloomed!!!

New Leaves

2009-07-30T07:55:00.000-07:00

The times they are a-changing.

I am finally finally finally illness free, and likely purged of all remnants of Western medicine. I have resumed my previous yogic activities, gone back to work (which is nearly finished), worked on an extra credit assignment (is it extra credit if it's mandatory? It isn 't being graded...) into which I've inserted a number of appendicies. I've made plans to leave town, to visit my family with my Chosen, to visit his family, to start creating a wedding dress. I've booked plane tickets to Venice and back, have yet to book hotels. Still working on finding the time to return to that magical fairy land to complete our birch wood candle holders.

I'm settling in. I'm celebrating. I'm supporting and supported. I'm loving and being loved. I'm discovering, I'm leaving, I'm returning. I'm turning over new leaves and leaving old leaves behind, but neither crushing them to dust nor burning them in a pile.

I'm drinking coffee and eating artisan bread with honey. Cherries are still in season, plums are making their appearance. I anticipate peaches very soon. The balcony basil has grown into shrubbery. The butterfly bush is a giant who has not yet bloomed (it has been chilly). I'm surrounded by huge, beautiful, fragrant leaves.

I want to touch them all.

All my friends are Super

2009-07-23T08:59:00.001-07:00

Throughout the duration of the illness (which is almost over) my friends have been buttresses of support. I have had a great number of phone calls and emails making sure I have everything I need (Jim has been on top of just about everything from movies to dairy-free soup, to tea), ensuring I'm not dying of loneliness and checking to make sure I'm takiing medication and naps as required. Things seem to be improving (slowly), and I may be able to force myself to go to work tomorrow afternoon (but I promise not to if things aren't significantly better). I've spent the past four days lying in bed, half passed out, unable to concentrate on anything; maybe working will take my mind off of how much swallowing actually hurts.

Around 4 Tuesday I had a call from the front door claiming delivery for me. I was confused as I haven't been online shopping lately (at least I don't think so; it is sort of hazy around the edges). I let him in and asked him to come up cuz as IF I'm getting out of bed and going down the stairs. A nice man showed up at my door with a flower delivery from my cousin. She had called earlier in the day to collect my address claiming to be updating her book (nice ruse! I use that one too) and in the process sent me a bright orange torch flower. I have wanted one of these for some time (I'm thinking of making it one of my wedding flowers) and it's perfect. It sits at me bedside, cheering me up every time I reach for tea or throat spray.

I have the very best friends in the universe.

Falling back with no fear

2009-07-13T09:40:00.000-07:00

I have been practicing Bikram yoga near-daily for the past two and a half weeks, and already I can see a major difference in myself in all aspects.

Bikram yoga is a highly specific type of yoga practiced in a hot room (37-42 degrees C). It is comprised of 26 postures and two breathing exercises, fashioned to work every single inch of your body inside and out. Each posture corresponds to various muscles, tissues, and even internal organs to stimulate, ring out, and detoxify each of these targets. The room is hot to allow the blood vessels to be as open as is safe, and to promote sweating to eliminate unnecessary accumulations through the skin.

My first Bikram experience came quite a few years ago, but I had neither the time nor resources to fully commit to it. I've been in and out of it since then, but mostly out. Recently, with school being finished and work having not yet started (until last week), I found I had time to do the "intro week" at the studio I am currently infatuated with. Going daily was difficult, but also wildly fun. For the second week, I recruited some friends to keep myself motivated. So far I've only missed two Sundays (as days of rest, but also days of rehearsal) and one Saturday because I was working. Today I went after two days of being off and definitely felt the difference.

After my third class (two weeks ago) I felt very different. My waist felt smaller, my butt felt tighter, my brain felt more relaxed, and I felt more spiritually connected to everything. This continued up until about this Sunday. Last Sunday I had a great rehearsal with my partner (mentioned in previous postings). This Sunday, after spending 32hrs at work and sleeping for only about 5hrs, working with children who are lost, lonely, scared, homesick, and pushing themselves so very hard, I was exhausted. I was terrible. So terrible in fact that my partner ended up with some injuries (shoulder muscle and a fat lip when I accidently elbowed him in the face... gracefully). I felt heavy, lost, scared, lonely, and sad. Twice I had to excuse myself to cry (seriously, I never used to cry this much; ask anyone).

I think the yoga is opening up a lot of things mentally, emotionally, and physically. Spending time away from it is necessary for healing, but it appears that two days is too exhausting. I went this morning and felt very different than I did on Friday (although I had been working through a sartorius injury for both classes). I got through it and felt good by the end. I will be better tomorrow.

Toward the start of each class there is a backbend. It is challenging not because one must have a strong core to protect the back, but because the feeling of falling backward is so uncomfortable. I have a rather flexible spine and great capacity for back bending, but the notion of falling on my head scares me and so I resist. One instuctor always prefaces this back bend with "looking back; no fear; begin bending."

Here I am, looking back, falling back, reaching back, with no fear.

There`s a Place in the Sun

2009-06-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

My dance partner is phenomenal. Everything he does is stunning. His technique is tight, his movements are exquisite, his choreographic ideas sometimes blow my mind. He is there for me 150%, has never dropped me or even let me fall. He walks me through the stuff I`ve never done, paints kinesiological pictures, explains the physics behind how it will actually work despite my misgivings and is never wrong. He has limitless patience with my weaknesses and carries the extra without complaint.

Yesterday after working with him for hours and being the biggest disappoinment since `Star Wars: Attack of the Clones` I bid goodbye to the cast, walked a few hundred meters, sat under a tree and cried.

I know that I am abominably frustrating. I don`t possess the strength needed to complete many of the movements. I`m uncomfortable with being manipulated, so much so that I anticipate what`s coming and seem to refuse direction. I trust he won`t let me fall; I don`t trust that I won`t fall anyway of my own volition. I am a stubbron soloist. I resist being led, I lock my joints, I refuse to flow with the motions and use him as a support out of a desire to be in control of myself. I haven`t let go. Nothing makes me feel worse than failing someone else.

I realize that I have only recently begun the journey back into full time dancing. I have been really focussed on school and patients and have been greatly rewarded for this (with awesome grades, awesome results, and awesome patients). I understand that these things take time; and I hate it. I want to be perfect, be the best at everything all the time. I am (arrogantly) self-aware enough to know that this is riduculous. However I am also simply arrogant enough to not care; I want to be perfect, and I want to be perfect right now.

Retention is the birthplace of injury (and cellulite for that matter). Letting go takes as much strength has hanging on and pushing through. If there`s hope for everyone, then there must be a little for me, too.

Pushing through...

Life Update

2009-06-17T06:18:00.000-07:00

I have decided that I need to return to my former athletic state.

I years passed, I was a throrough-going professional dancer. I taught dance at 30hrs/week, I rehearsed for shows at least 5 more hours/week, I went to classes 2-8hrs/week depending on the week. I had piles of energy and only one day off each week.

I do not miss teaching. Not even a little. Wild horses couldn't drag me back into that overly-cold room full of too-many screaming 3 year olds, trying to teach them choreography and the difference between first and second positions, nevermind getting them to stand on their toes without falling over (often on purpose). I get it; you're three and you want to have fun. However, after three years I got tired of not being taken seriously (my oldest students were 6). It wasn't good for my sanity.

Having since left several jobs (because I didn't JUST teach dance for 30hrs, I also worked at a restaurant for 15, a clinic for 20, and a residential school for hours that varied all the time), I find that I am unsurprisingly unable to afford classes. This has cut my training into less than half its former glory. I still rehearse 3-4hrs/week, and I like to work out at home a few times a week for at least 30 mins, but that reduces me to... about 6 hours/week. Which is insane considering I used to do 6hrs/DAY! Albeit not as challenging as I make my current activities (you can only derive so much benefit from teaching the same class every 30mins or so), but the hours added up. The plies added up. The jumps added up. Also, the anorexia added up and made my "muscles" stand out more (quotationed because really, I didn't have THAT much more muscle tone than I do now; I was really all tendon and bone and it showed).

So with all this behind me I've decided to get back on track (training, not the other part). Keeping the 3.5hour rehearsals weekly, I've decided to add 1-2hrs 5days/week for the first two weeks. After this... July starts and I'm not sure how much free time I'll have during the month (working 70hrs/week), but at the very least I'll keep up the previous schedule.

In other more interesting news, my basil has started to flower:

I bought it at the Riverdale Farmer's Market (Tuesdays 3-7 at Riverdale Farm). Two weeks ago while there I heard a woman saying that one shouldn't let basil flower since it ruins the taste and makes it "woody." So, yesterday while perusing the herb stand, I asked Pablo the Herb Dude (yes Nat, Cute Herb Guy's name is Pablo) about this. Apparently this isn't exactly true. It doesn't change the taste; it kills the entire plant. Basically the flower is like a parasite which takes all the nutrients out of the leaves to support its own needs and ends up killing the host. Depressing. And scary. But so pretty.... none of my other plants have flowers right now and I miss flowers, yet I have the euthenize this one to save the plant.

I received a call yesterday from Fashion Crimes, the independent boutique making my wedding dress. They have a new Fitting Technician named Carrie who is calling all of the current order-ers to introduce herself and set appointments to make sure we have everything we need. Seems there are a few issues with my order: they don't carry brown tulle (which was to come out the bottom of the dress) and there was no specification regarding the size of the ribbon lacing the back of the dress. All very fixable things; I can move forward to white tulle comfortably and pick a ribbon size. I'm meeting her on July 9 to discuss our options and I'm so excited to get everything started.

I also got the items and price list from the potter being commissioned to make everything I adore. I've put together the ideal setting of a mug, a soup bowl, lunch plate, dinner plate and side plate (96$ for the set). There are also smaller items for those of us still on student budgets (teapots, tumblers, platters, serving bowls that sort of thing). In any colour the buyer thinks is appropriate. Jim and I are heading out on Saturday to create the "other" registry of such things like towels and sheets. We're also going to scour some pawn shops to see if we can find wedding rings we like for less than what we would pay retail. A mostly window-shopping excursion which I am looking forward to.

Finally, in some sad news, I had to cut my hair. Not all of it, thank god, but quite a bit more than I expected. The split ends were becoming way too much for me to abide, so I bought some pro scissors and Lisa did the honours. If I haven't seen you in a while: my hair had previously fallen to about my waist (see profile photo). It now falls just below my shoulders, sort of mid-blade, which I guess is somewhere around 4-6inches. It needed to happen for the health of my hair, but I'm sad nonetheless. It's weird to comb my fingers through it and come up to the stop before I feel I should. Strange to wrap it into a twist and run out; I have to place the clip in a different spot. I fully plan on growing it again, but taking better care to moisturize it more, to prevent splits, watch for damage, not overwash. It really does look much better now.

Poncho Stuff

2009-06-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have finished the poncho, in somewhat record time; probably about 10 hours. Here it is from the front:
It's all asymmetrical and fun, and will happily go with everything I have ever owned.
And the back:
Jim suggested to me while I was making this one (in good time) that I should invest in a good amount of yarn, get an etsy account, and basically be my own little poncho sweat shop. Since I got this gorgeous yarn at a discount (about 30$ for four skeins), and paying myself about 10$/hour, this would run about 150$ including shipping and taxes.
Poll: Would you pay 150$ for a handmade, warm, comfortable, beautiful poncho? Let me know in the comments!

Days go By

2009-06-10T14:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had a pie date with my oldest friend; that is the friend I have had for most of my life, not who is oldest in years. Before our forray into pie, I stopped by my favourite yarn boutique and found my bane: the 30% off basket.
Four skeins of 100% peruvian wool. The picture doesn't do justice to how much varigation there is in the colour, but it is mostly brown with a little red and green twisted in for excitement. Plus the added fun of seeming to carry Sideshow Bob in my sack all evening.
Here they are, four little yarn skeins all in a row, waiting to become this:
I made one for my mother for Christmas and liked the pattern so much I'm making one for myself for the fall (and for cool summer days, and for classes because there's a lot of air conditioning, and for wearing over my winter coat...).
This is what it starts out looking like. Last time, I used very lumpy yarn (it came with the kit) and didn't look like this. I think I like this more, but I can't decide.

Thoughts?

The View from Here

2009-06-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

From the balcony I see...
Yesterday I got in touch with the pottery dude, who agreed to take comissions from friends and family members to create a dining set for me. He is a delightfully laid-back, soft spoken artisan of few words. He's going to send me price listings sometime today or tomorrow. He asked about my colour choices, to which I replied that I love all colours and will allow the commissioners to decide what they think is appropriate. From the price list/piece description I will put together what I think constitutes a resonable "place setting" and go from there. I'm super excited.

These past few weeks, alongside baking and cooking more, I've also been sleeping a LOT. Long ago in the land of full-time university I would feel guilty for having naps, for not staying up all night cramming or writing papers (which isn't to say that I didn't do these things; I just felt guilty when I slept). Normally I have a hard time waking in bad weather. Who is motivated to get out of a warm cozy bed when it's snowing and blowing and freezing and awful? However, usually by the time June rolls around I'm getting up at 7am (sometimes 8) and lasting happily all day like a sunflower. It's almost like my sleep-debt is being called in. If I have the opportunity, I sleep til 10, but I still go to bed between 12-1. Often I'll even nap around 2-3pm (in a sunbeam with a kitty; who can resist?). What I cannot seem to figure out is WHY this is happening. What is the reason behind all this sleepiness? I'm not sick (at least I dont' think so), I shouldn't be terribly stressed out (besides wedding planning and a silly job and some financial messiness I'm pretty good), I should be recovered from all the exam stress by now... why am I still so sleepy?

In order to motivate myself somewhat, I took a good long look at what I have, what I see every day and take enjoyment in.
These are some of my plants. There's the foliage of what used to be orange gerbera daisies, orange-mint, thyme, and two giant basil plants in two giant pots because I heard basil likes to be roomy. And these are beautiful basils if there ever was beautiful basil.
Check him out, in all his magesty.
This is my butterfly bush, which will bloom apparently some time in July (when I'll be at my busiest, but that's okay). I don't know what colour the flowers will be, but I don't think it matters. The purpose of the bush is to attract butterflies (duh). It's perennial so I won't have to replant it every year, either. This fills me with glee.
This is... an ikea plant? I bought it a few weeks ago at Ikea for 1.99 and it was labelled as "Mixed Tropical." The dots on it range from happy yellow, to orange, to a delightful almost fuschia. Any ideas of what its actual genus might be would be appreciated. However, even having no idea how to take care of it, it seems to be doing well.
This is ZsaZsa. I have named her so for two reasons:
1. She is actually an offshoot of a spider plant once owned by ZsaZsa Gabor. This is probably a great-grandbaby of the original plant.
2. She's a raging drama queen of a plant. If I don't water her at a particular time, her ends start to brown. If I don't feed her coffee grinds every week, she starts to wilt, just a little. If she isn't given exactly proper sunlight, she throws a planty fit. Spider plants are supposed to be easy; not this one. Oddly, she doesn't seem to mind too much when the cats nibble on her.
This is my neighbour's balcony, or what little of it I can see. Note the poofy flowers and fake butterfly. I like her a lot.
This is the view from the office. On breezy days the leaves on this tree lull me into that sleep I ranted about earlier.
This is the view inside the office: Jim in his jammies, working. Sometimes there's even a kitty on his lap.
It appears we live a charm'ed life. I certainly don't want to sleep through it all.

Adventures in Chocolate

2009-06-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been cooking more than usual. I've never really considered myself to be much of a cook. although I have on occasion been known to create a killer quiche or toss a good curry, and I have some fail-safe recipes that are ALL MINE. However, I tend to faire simple when it comes to the kitchen. I have a history of burning rice, of forgetting ingredients, of not reading a recipe the whole way through to discover that I'm lacking the utensils or materials for the final steps. My entire lineage is British, so I grew up on all things boiled or broiled, sometimes pan fried, barbeque when it's in season. My parents are not terribly adventurous in the kitchen. My grandmothers, though both wonderful at creating large meals which are tasty and fulfulling, do tend toward their fail-safe recipes most of the time. Growing up, we had a weekly schedule: Monday is Beef, Tuesday is Chicken, Wednesday is Pasta, Thursday is Pork, Friday is leftovers, Saturday is pizza, Sunday is fish. Repeat. With little variation. And, for my part, little satisfaction as I stopped eating meat at age ten.
I have, however, always been a decent baker. Again, I rarely ventured out of the safety zone, sticking to boxed cake ingredients, store-bought pie shells (pastry is HARD), that sort of thing. In the past few years I've learned to make truffles, cakes from scratch, pie fillings (but still not the pastry) and a variety of other tasties. Plus, I've ALWAYS made cookies from scratch.
This past week I've been reading "French Women for All Seaons" by Mireille Guiliano; I read "French Women Don't Get Fat" a few years ago and enjoyed a few recipes from this book. Upon completion of the most recent, I have scores of new recipes and have made a few with good success: Blanched asparagus with home-made mayonnaise (which is harder than it sounds, but fully worth it), rhubarb-strawberry compote (pie filling without the pie), and yesterday I ventured into the flourless chocolate cake.
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE carbs. It's a serious problem. I've been making a solid effort to reduce carbs in favour of adding protein (not Atkins because that's ridiculous and unhealthy), mostly because vegetarians in general do not get enough and compensate with grains. Thus, the concept of a chocoalte cake without flour is marvellous. Plus chocolate: awesome. Having borrowed a spring-form pan from the great Graham, I was set to go (I used to have one, but gave it away many years ago since I had never once used it and did not foresee a use for it in the reasonable future). As with all first-time recipes, there was beauty, pain, disaster, and a final product (which I will not discuss so as not to spoil the ending).

Somehow I didn't think of taking pictures of the beautifully melted chocolate, the delightfully creamed butter, the fluffy eggs or anything like that. I didn't think of photo documenting anything until the carnage began:

This is the recently-emptied mixing bowl which at different times housed melted chocolate with butter, eggs with sugar, orange liqueur, and finally all three mixed together. I tried using a separate mixing bowl in the mixer, but since it didn't fit, it made a horrible noise, rattled about terribly, and frightened the cats. Instead, I transfered all the mixtures around a few times in order to properly blend. This bowl and spatula got a serious work out.

This is the bowl into which I transferred all of the "set aside" ingredients. It is also the bowl I attempted to use with the mixer and which proceded to make the aforementioned horrific noises. Note the various accoutrements (blending tool, wooden spoon, whisk, funnel). Clearly I was having fun.
This is my happy orange KitchenAid. Please note the very telling glob of chocolate on the rim. I am not the tidest of chefs. The mixer is probably the best Christmas present I have ever received; I showed it to my mother in the Williams-Sonoma and actually caressed it. I adore this mixer.

In my haste (and weak-wristed) desire to transfer the batter into the sprinform pan:
Big dollop of chocolate on the microwave. And:
a somewhat smaller one on the floor.
Flourless chocolate cake, in sprinform pan ready to be put in the oven. I was so excited at this point that I forgot about the precariously perched box of cornstarch...
It wasted no time attacking me when I opened the cupboard. I now understand why one uses an apron.
40 minutes later it's out of the oven and feeling fine.
Served with freshly whipped cream (unsweetened)
courtesy of Lisa, and strawberries

courtesy of Mother Earth.
The following afternoon, there was much enjoyment. We were too excited about eating to bother taking photos of our pieces. Instead:
Graham: lender of pans.
Jim: Enjoyer of treats.
Lisa: Demolisher of delicious.
My own piece had to rest on the table, what with my hands being full of camera.

We managed to make four slices of cake from 1/4 of the entire cake. It was glorious. I even used half the recommeded amount of sugar. Thusly, I packed up portions of cake and whipped cream for our guests to take home.

And of course included the recipe. There are no secrets among us.
This goes well served with espresso or coffee, or perhaps Grand Marnier. Strawberries may be substituted with raspberries (or omitted for the non-fruit lover).

The adventure was a great success, and definitely bears repeating (although infrequently as something like this should be kept as an anticipated indulgence, not a dietary staple).

Registry

2009-06-01T13:06:00.000-07:00

My friend Natalie is a genius.

This Christmas I received gifts of gorgeous pottery from the One of a Kind Show. We had journeyed there together, Natalie, Gennie and I, and had all fallen in love with the work of an incredible artisan. The pieces I received as presents were perfect for me:
This bowl has held much fruit. Its colour screams "Delicious food goes here!"
The pitcher has held everything I could think of, and the cups are good for either hot or cold beverages.

I decided that I want them to be the prototype for my fine china choice. This decision was furthered while shopping for "traditional" china at various department stores with my mother and grandmother; nothing called to me the way this pottery does.

One day, as I was complaining to Natalie about this (she has been an absolute SAINT dealing with my whines), she suggested emailing the director of the show some pictures to see if perhaps she knows who it could belong to. After a brief "why didn't I think of this before?" moment, I got extremely excited and embarked on a mission to find the correct person to lead me to my destiny.

Today I finally found the email for the exhibitioner coodinator for the one of a kind show. Neither my friends nor I had thought to collect the business card of the artisan and had NO IDEA who s/he is. Lucky for me, the show coordinator is efficient and I had an answer by mid-day. I have since emailed the artisan to see if he is willing to take "commissions" from my friends and family and custom-create our "china" set. After all, who wouldn't love the idea of exquisite, one of a kind pottery decorating their table for special occasions? I have not yet received an answer, but I am optimistic about it. If I was a potter, I know I couldn't resist the idea of making an entire table outfit.

The rest of the registry (gag) is coming together. We've decided to look at sheet/towel options since I learned that people love to decorate the conjugal bed (regardless whether there had been previous conjugations or not). Plus, everyone needs more towels. Finally, just to be frivalous, I think we're going to register for a Wii and Wii Fit. Hey, just cuz you get married doesn't mean you can let yourself go, right? Of course, we haven't done any of this yet, and probably won't get around to it until mid-June when we both have a Saturday of together. This is also when we'll visit some pawn shops to find wedding bands. The Birks bands are beautiful, but also... diamond encrusted. Call me crazy, but too much of a good thing... makes my current good thing seem less special.

Coming up: In August, my 'maids and I are going shopping for dresses! Once the dress is made, I have to get some shoes to go with it. I will have to survive a wedding shower put on by my grandmother, mother, and sister to field the awkward "We weren't invited but we're buying you gifts" comments (the one blight in having a small wedding). See if I will be able to avoid murdering my husband-to-be for not yet acquiring a suit or a DJ/band (the ONLY taske he asked for). Watch as all the last-minute scramblings slowly and painfully either come together or crumble apart.

The anticipation: It kills me.

Toronto Island

2009-05-29T07:58:00.000-07:00

A mostly photo blog-post wherein Lisa, Graham and I visit Toronto Island on a rainy Wednesday.

History: I worked on Toronto Island for two long summers (May-Sept) in both of the restaurants on Centre. While much less traumatic now, it is difficult to visit the islands without feeling some trepidation (Oh god, they're going to put me at Paradise and I'll be bored, oh god I'll be at Carousel and have to deal with tourists and children oh god oh god). Despite having not worked here for almost three years, these feelings still happen. I can safely say, however, that these sensations have lessened much, especially during this last forray. I daresay the island may even represent fun after so many years of negativity.
Here are Lisa and Graham waiting for the Ferry. I refuse to take photos of the ferry as it is a large and scary boat. Any island officianados out there: We took the William Inglis.
The view from the ferry on the way to Centre.
This is Graham's favourite ferry, which we missed by minutes.
View of the city from the ferry. Fog or smog?

William Inglis went from City, to Centre, to Wards. We decided that Wards was the best place to depart and begin adventuring. I had never really spent much time on Wards; it's the residential area of the islands. We, for whatever reason, did not take pictures of the houses, which is really unfortunate because they are extremely cute. The "streets" are actually just sidewalks between houses. One cannot drive around Wards, just walk or bike.
Flowery tree of unknown genus.
Potentiall ominous path... but mostly because it leads either to wetland or someone's back yard.

We found ducks in the Eastern Gap. I refused to take a photo of the industrial carnage happening on the mainland. Instead, the view in the opposite direction:

Across the Eastern Gap, away from the carnage, there is a haunted light house. Wednesday was rainy and foggy (typically British... damn colonizers) so you can't really see it that well, but I swear to you it's there. I've never been to it, but will make a solid effort to visit it this summer.

Along the boardwalk, we found an arch.
While there aren't roses growing on it (yet?) I told my companions the magical truth that evil cannot pass through a rose-covered archway. We could all pass through this one, roseless though it was. I say it counts. Sort of. Perhaps we are all just demi-evil. :)
We found the most perfect Peter Cottontail garden at the Senior's Centre. No Farmer McGregor is sight. Oddly, also no bunnies. Instead we found:
Lisa Rabbit!! It was hard for her to resist all the growing cabbages and carrots, but there was this really high-tech security gate preventing her pillaging:
See how it doesn't quite reach the ground leaving a one foot gap... very difficult for bunnies to shimmy under. It also stands a solid four feet high, preventing the 5'7" Lisa Rabbit from hopping over it.
The also have the added security of TROGDOR!!!!!
Burninating all the people in the thatch-roofed COTTAGES!!!!

We came upon the Island Church.

There's a plaque next to it with all its history, but I won't post it because it's hard to see in a photo. Basically this is a 200 year old church which still holds services on Sundays. I very nearly cancelled all of my wedding plans in favour of doing it here, marriage classes be damned. However Graham, in his wisdom, told me that in order to be married here one must be a member of the congregation, and probably for a requisite number of years. If they did not have this rule, they would be performing weddings probably every day of the year. I am only slightly disappointed.

Across the way we found Far Enough Farm.
It is clearly quite picturesque from this distance. There was even a peacock on the shed roof:
On the way to the farm, we passed the Carousel Cafe (shudder) and the pond just outside of Centreville.
Is that a Kingfisher?
Lisa sat in story-time chair and watched Gimpy Goose gimp by.
The farm was... depressing. The animals were far smellier than they should have been, the horses were supremely pissed off and DIRTY. Even the donkey got cranky with us and tried to eat my camera.
Here is an overly smelly billy goat:
He might look like a wizard, but he was quite rank.
He could also scratch his own ass with his horns. Useful skill, that.
We found Peter Cottontail... incarcerated.
And having an interspecies relationship with a pheasant.
Cranky donkey, just before he tried to eat the camera.

Pretty much depressed, we left Centre Island and headed to Hanlan's point for the haunted light house.
There's a plaque for this as well, but the short of it is that this is a 200 year old light house reputed to be haunted by one JP Rademuller who was the keeper until his mysterious disappearance and the discovery of human remains nearby.
Lisa searched for more human remains... and enjoyed the view, mostly because she did not find any remains. We did, however, find geese!
Mean, probably semi-evil geese teaching their young to hiss and spit.

After this, it began to rain so we caught the next ferry back to the city, where we met Jim for much deserved protein.

Despite some of the more depressing aspects, this is a trip that bears repeating, possibly with bicycles and boat rentals!

Muskoka Adventures Day 3

2009-05-25T07:09:00.000-07:00

The Final Forray

Monday was Lucy's first birthday! Lisa made her a pretty party hat, we sang Happy Birthday, Mom Adams made her a lamb and rice "cake" with a little candle and everything. It was possibly the cutest celebration I've ever seen.

Monday began with WORK! Wedding work. Wedding-planner-Lisa had made the delightful decision that our table centrepieces should involve birchwood candle holders. I had no idea what this even meant, except that they were wooden candle holders (duh) until I saw what they would look like:

Awesome.

What I also didn't know was that they were to be hand made by us. I'm not really one to shy away from power tools, but I get nervous using other peoples' big expensive equipment because I am Emily: Destroyer of Technology. So Lisa and I let the boys get started and instead ensconced ourselves in the kitchen to make breakfast. We spent most of that particular morning completely polarized: Lisa and I making breakfast, cleaning house, washing dishes, and finally enjoying a cup of tea on the porch; Jim and Graham at the drill press, breaking for a meal, then drinking tea back at the press. Eventually, Lisa and I got a little restless and joined them at the press to see how things were going:

Then we forced them to take a break:

Which they actually didn't really appreciate, so we gave them back their tool.

We decided to make one last journey into the wilds. Now, between this decision and the actual forray, there is an unfortunate story involving car keys and an automatic locking mechanism on the rental car. The moral of the story is this: Mazdas have an automatic locking mechanism which activates if all the car doors are closed and the keys are NOT in the ignition. They had fallen out of my pocket onto the back seat. It was a $70 lesson about cars and now I am wiser. We told the nice people at Enterprise about the incedent (there was no damage from the saviour from Gravenhurst whose job it is to help unfortunates such as ourselves, but in the interest of full disclosure...). They've given us 25% off our next rental for the trouble. Enterprise is basically awesome (and cheaper than Budget, surprisingly).

Anyway, annoyed with myself, I hiked with Lisa around familiar ground. We were cheered up and reminded of yesterday's great victory with this:

As we rounded a corner (sort of) I came basically face to face with this thing. It was no more than 20ft away. And it didn't move. I hissed at Lisa until she noticed, then the three of us stood completely still in this strange triangle. Lisa got two great shots. He seriously posed for her pictures for a solid five minutes. After the second shot, he nodded once then went on his merry way. We wanted to follow him, but he was too quick.

Awed and somewhat humbled, we continued up the rock mountain and eventually settled down just to watch scenery unfold before us.

When we got back to base we told all about the deer and made them look at our pictures (because we're like that). We saw how much the boys had completed. It was impressive.

Then Mom Adams asked us if we wanted to go for a boat ride. DID WE!? I hadn't been on a boat in over a year and forgot how cold it could be. We went everywhere we could think of (and everywhere Dad Adams was willing to take us). We drove around "Bird Shit Island" which is so named because it is a nature preserve and utterly covered with seagulls, cormorants, and a few herons. There are photos on Mom Adams' blog (Great White North), but not here as our camera was burried somewhere in the trunk of the car. Back at the base, we ate a good lunch of leftovers, then had to say our goodbyes and head back to the big smoke.

We all a spectacular time. I cannot express how grateful I am to Mom and Dad Adams for their hospitality and generosity. I hope to make another visit or two before summer's end (and will happily rent because it's totally worth it). Thus ends this adventure, and spurs the creation of a new one.

Muskoka Adventures Day 2

2009-05-21T07:26:00.001-07:00

(Why yes, I am splitting this up to keep you on edge... is it working?)

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, if rather chilly. Jim and I were pampered with a pancake breakfast courtesy of Graham and Lisa's ingenuity (I never think of having pancakes... ever). Post-pancake, we all collapsed into a carb-coma for about an hour with crossword puzzles, word jumbles, and a little vacation planning. Once rested, Lisa and I decided it was time to visit the great outdoors and venture to a little place we had found the previous day.

After Saturday's turkey dinner, we bunch of us took Lucy (the Adams' dog) for a little walk in a direction I had not been before. Along the journey, Lisa and I noticed a great many places that would take us deep into the heart of wilderness, but a little further on realized that we could, from the road, see what looked suspiciously like actual fairy rings. Being with non-believers (and a rambunctious puppy) we couldn'nt fathom going there just then, but promised to come back the following day and, following food-coma, we did just that.

We climbed rock mountains again, we traipsed through meadows, we treaded carefully on sacred ground. We found sacred pools, metropolis, fairy rings, altars, fortresses, and soldier training grounds. We left offerings. We were put through an obstacle course to measure our fortitude; trudge through the swamp, walk across the skinny fallen tree, hop over dangerous ground, run up the hills, duck under low-slung branches. Having past, we were sent on the red-flower quest which lead us from place to place, using only the most difficult pathways.

Sacred pools:

The fairy training program:
The Red Flowers:

Several hours in we were inches from giving up, heading back from whence we came (which was FAR!, but since we weren't sure how much further we were from emerging on the other side it seemed the safer option). Suddenly, there came the sound of a bird; a red-breasted robin. We followed the sound and found more red flowers and decided to carry on.

We discovered trilians (which I had never seen in person, and did you know it's illegal to pick them or trample them?), higher crags, hiding places, gnome villages, crazy giant fairy lake with lone-tree island.

Finally, after one last steep climb, we found the prize:

A bleached fallen antler from a stag. We were rewarded with a display of birdie virtuosity, and sat on a rock for a while. When we decided it was time to leave, we noticed from our vantage point that we were right above a road which lead us right back home.

We ran into the boys on the street, about four houses from our destination. They had just begun a biking mission, off to rescue us in case we were lost. They would never have found us, I'm sure. We were cloaked in fairy magics. They made a merry adventure of a ride, while Lisa and I returned to homebase to tidy up and make food.

The remainder of the evening saw card games, barbeque, s'mores, and more martini mix than was good for anyone. I headed to bed extremely exhilleratingly exhausted by 10pm.

Muskoka Adventures Day 1

2009-05-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

This weekend saw another fabulous trip to Muskoka lake to visit the wonderful Mr and Mrs Adams. Their hospitality is always overwhelming; Mom made a full turkey dinner complete with cranberry sauce, stuffing, and all the trimmings which left me wishing, just a little, that I eat meat. However, the aforementioned trimmings were such that I didn't miss it too much and was more than satisfied.
As before, we guests stayed in the Treehouse (currently available for rent if anyone is interested... I'm not sure what the rates are, but you may find out by clicking the link to "My Great White North" and asking... that's Mrs. Adams!). After a comfy Friday night sleep, we were good to go Saturday morning.

Graham and I made a breakfast of scrambled eggs, veggie sausage, toast, coffee and orange juice. Once digested, Lisa and I ventured into the Great Unknown, leaving the boys at the table to play... something geeky, I'm not sure what it was.

Lisa and I wandered up every possible rocky hill,

frolicked in the trees,

hopped over rivulets flowing under tree roots,

collected intact acorns and romped like we were five years old.

We discovered a great many uprooted trees, one whose roots were more than 6' in diameter. (The tree itself was maybe 1' in diameter).

We adventured for about two hours, returning home happy and hungry, and just in time for the rain to start!

Since we couldn't play outside without getting soaked, we hopped in the car and ventured into Gravenhurst for a little lunch at a greasy-spoon (the grilled cheese virtually dripped butter... it was awesome). We found an independent bookstore across the street, in which we discovered MAGIC TOMES! These are handcrafted leather-bound journals filled with recycled cotton paper. Plus, it's refillable. Jim treated himself to the largest size; the rest of us have vowed that we shall invest once we have used up a few of the already too many journals we currently own (I have five on the go as we speak).
Off to Giant Tiger! Anyone who has not been to one of these really needs to go. It's like a discount Zellers. It's out of control. Last year I didn't enjoy it as much because it housed a peculiar and unpleasant smell. This year, things were much nicer and I didn't have to run outside at the end of 30mins to avoid an unfortunate situation. In fact, I even bought a few mislabeled items! Lisa managed to find some new hoodies, Graham procured some t-shirts, and Jim bought a fishing rod.
This was turkey-dinner evening, so obviously everyone spent a happy evening with delicious food. We played euchre until midnight, then all hit the sack as suddenly we all realized what circadian rhythms are supposed to be like. As Lisa and I stepped outside to return to the treehouse, we were smacked in the face by a sky full of stars and had to pause and gaze in awe at these things we don't get much of in the city.

I wonder...

2009-05-14T07:58:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCjHjQEU0Xw

After watching this video, a number of questions popped into my head. I have sent out a call asking for opinions and will gladly (with permission) post the answers, but here is my specific query:

Let's assume, for arguments' sake, that this child's visions and experiences are true. Assuming her mother is, in fact, an atheist who never spoke of god, that somehow in her nine years this girl never had contact with religious iconography:

Why does God/Jesus always portray himself as a white man? Further, why always the same white man?

My mother has a lot of iconography about the house. I grew up surrounded by various depictions of the risen (and not yet risen) Christ, and ALL of the pictures were near-identical. This child's paintins are strikingly similar to those of my childhood. My adolescent presumption was that all the artists had seen each other's work and were building off the DaVinci archetype (or something to that effect). As a child, I took for granted that this was simply what Jesus looked like. But as an adult, knowing what I know of geography and races, I have to ask myself, "Wouldn't Jesus have been brown?"

Perhaps this child sees what she sees because this has grown to be the acceptable image of the Christ in colonized nations. Perhaps this is how he appeared to the first artist so as to be revered by a white dominant culture; this was the only way to gain respect. Maybe he stays white to remain respected, knowing how racist the colonies (and most of the world) still is. Or maybe it's because he doesn't want to appear fishy by changing his appearance some thousand plus years after the fact.

I would like to put out there, however, that I'm disappointed by all these explanations. The white archetypical Jesus alienates and subjegates a LOT of would-be followers, merely by continuing to portray himself as white and male. Not to mention he is making a fool of a LOT of people who insist that it is geographically unlikely for Jesus to have been white; he was born, raised, and murdered in the MIDDLE EAST. I certainly don't know a great many middle-eastern born individuals who are any shade remotely resembling the ultra-white Jesus we see in pictures. If he is still out there as a white guy simply to win the approval of the masses, then I am highly disappointed. In life, he befriended tax collectors, hookers, women, fishermen, all those considered lesser people in society (even in contemporary society). If in death he seeks the rich, the powerful, the so-called "influential" then he is negating his own living message.

God/ess is alive, but is not necessarily a white guy.

Pie and Politics

2009-04-30T07:38:00.001-07:00

Is there ever a better time for discussing various socio-political situations as when one is eating pie? I certainly don't think so. Especially when one is accompanied by a fellow-pie lover with similar political views. This particular pastry purchaser (as she is wonderful and bought for me!) has increased my awareness, scope, and brain-span wildly and continously since the day we met over six years ago. I don't get to see her a lot which is a ridiculous shame. However, any time we get together is a good time; a smart time. And, of course, a delicious time.

The last few get-togethers have been at this wonderful spot in Kensington Market called Wanda's Pie in the Sky. If you live in the city and have not yet visited, you should.

Anyway, this most recent occurance of pie and conversation led into discussions (as it usually does) about gender politics, racism, institutional "isms", the hightened Uber-Individualism of our North American (Industrialized) culture, Canadian Apathy, the Tamil protests on University Ave and a great variety of personal stories (including china pattern shopping and "meet the parents"). Subsequently I have been invited to attend a five week course in social political feminist topics, full of ritual, yoga, medicine, and other professionals from myriad fields of study bringing together their experiences and perspectives on the world at large.

I am suffering stupid amounts of excitement over this. I'm bouncing and itching to get started.

Yesterday I also rode my 14 year old bicycle for the first time in many months. I've had this bike since I was 12 years old. It is my first and only multi-speed bike. It's fuschia, somewhat rusted-looking, out of date, and completely awesome. It's 12 year old girl sized, which is perfect for me both because it fits and because it really deters theft. No one else would fit on it but other 12 year old girls. And really, the rate of theft in 12 year old girl bikes is rather miniscule at last check.

I miss my bike when I'm not on it. Well, that's not fair. I miss having been on it once I'm back on it again. Cycling is so freeing; no ttc, no sidewalk etiquette, no boxy surroundings, no insurance! Just me and the wind (which admittedly sucks when it's against me, but I'm choosing to ignore this for now). I even bought a little bell last year to prevent being "doored." What I really want now is a basket for the back, into which I can place larger things, such as groceries or a heavy bag so my back doesn't get sweaty.

I almost got a new bike this year and was actually mildly disappointed that I didn't. However, when it was initially proposed to me that I might get a new one I panicked. What about the old one? I so love it; what would I do with it? It seems silly to have TWO bikes, considering you can only ride one at a time. I suppose I could have donated it, or given it to a kid who needs a bike. I'm so very attached to it (I know I know....) that I was more relieved than disappointed when I was told I have to use this one for at least another season.

One day it will break completely and I will be left with no recourse but to get a new bike. Until then, this one makes me happy and is perfect for me.

Kitties

2009-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

Thank you to everyone who expressed concern for Kumari.

We brought her to the vet as scheduled on Monday morning. The receptionist couldn't seem to find the appointment slot, but the time had been kept open so they took her anyway. The technician spoke with us briefly, explaining that there were no notes in Kumari's file so she wasn't precisely sure what she was taking rads of... she said she was going to take the usual two once I told her about what has been going on with her. They took her into the back and said they'd call us in the afternoon.

I got a call back from the doctor herself, saying that there were definitely some "formations" in Kumari's bladder, but they weren't too large and, depending on the type, may be broken up through a special diet or removed surgically. She wanted a urine sample to determine the type, so they were holding on to her a bit longer. We should call at 4pm.

That we did. And we were told that she hadn't peed yet. Now, I know my cat. She hadn't peed at 9am when we left, and she still hadn't peed by 4... this cat was NOT going to pee without a fight. They ended up keeping her over night to get the sample (and I HATE sleeping without my cat). When we called at 10am Tuesday, they told us they STILL hadn't gotten a sample; we could probably come get her at 1pm.

When we arrived, we were greeted with a hefty bill and a giant bag of cat food. While the bill was a bit of a choker (but not nearly as bad as a friend's quote for treating her sick rat... yikes), the food was a sigh of relief; it's the diet crystals (tri-phosphate). We spoke with the vet, who confirmed that yes, they are probably (probably?) the phosphate crystals, but there was no way to tell for sure (then why the dire need for a pee sample?). She is to eat NOTHING but this food for the next four weeks; no Wellness food, no Spot's Stew, no TREATS of any kind. She has to go back in four weeks for more x-rays. If they're gone, she stays on the food for two more weeks then it's back to normal. If they're still there, they're calcium and she needs surgery. Then they brought out Kumari and we took her home.

Of course, I checked with the doc about Sophie, the other cat who REALLY likes to eat. It's totally fine for her to eat this food as well, which is really the only way it would work seeing as Kumari can't have anything else. Through all this, Sophie has been a good trouper. She's been cuddly to Kumari, doesn't mind pee on the mat or in the tub, didn't complain about the sudden appearance of blood. When we took her away for the day two weeks ago for the initial urinalysis, she was unimpressed with me and SO excited when she got home. When Kumari was gone overnight, Sophie didn't come to bed, but kept vigil in the cat tree. Once Kumari got home, Sophie bathed her with cat kisses and much pouncing and exitement ensued.

And then we busted out the new food.

Kumari LOVES this food. I don't know if it tastes good to her (as it is actually just higher in sodium so it makes her thirsty and therefore need to drink more to bust up the crystals... and Kumari LOVES salt. For any homeopathy friends out there reading this, she's a total Nat-Mur), or if she is just smart and likes things that are good for her, but she's ALL over this stuff.

Sophie is pissed. And I don't mean regular cat "I'm gonna complain until you fix this problem" pissed, but riotously, spoiled child pissed. She whined. She complained. She howled. Then she started climbing on surfaces she knows she's not to be on. Then she yowled. Then she opened the kitchen cupboards and began snuggling the food bags. Repeatedly. While yowling. She started batting at the cupboard doors, bumping them loudly until she would get our attention. She paced around the house, complaining the entire time. She jumped on Jim's keyboard while he was working. Several times. He eventually locked her out of the office, and I was left with repeated cupboard banging. Finally, I got annoyed and tied the cupboards shut together with a long piece of bright orange yarn. Sophie then spent a hillarious 40 minutes attemting to wedge herself through the tiny opening to get into the food bags. It was youtube material, watching this chubby cat trying to fit through a space that barely fit her nose.

In the end, I busted out some "prescription" wet food, which both of them ate happily. Sophie still refused to come to bed and slept in the cat tree all night. She's not quite over it this morning. We've got four weeks of this to get through. I'm looking at this as a weight-loss opportunity for Sophie, as it really is out of control. We had her tested for diabetes a while back, which came up negative. She's not sick; just tubby. And for no reason I can divine. Her diet seemed good, although now I wonder about it... she's still fat, and the other got crystals.... maybe Wellness food (the bag with the sunshine on it) isn't as good as we think it is. They don't get a lot of treats, they're fairly active...

Anyway, this is as good a time as any for her to start eating a bit less (if only because she finds the food gross). I think once per week we might let her have some "special food" alone in the bathroom as a treat. She's normally a very good cat, and her behavior during Kumari's illness has been stellar outside of yesterday's freak out. She's just a fat cat who likes her foods. It's hard to fight with that.

Kumari

2009-04-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

My kitty is ill.
When Jim and I moved nearly three weeks ago, we noticed bright red blood in the bathtub. I initially panicked and started looking for sources. Both cats enjoy spending time in the empty tub, drinking water from the slightly drippy tap or rolling in the condensation leftover from previous showers. Upon closer investigation I found a stick-pin near the drain of the tub. I assumed someone had stepped on it, bled initially, then quickly got better being as there was only one slightly bloody paw print on the side of the tub, and a half print on the floor. Later that same day, it happened again, but this time there was a small amount of bright yellow urine around it. I wondered briefly, but assumed the injury had reopened slightly when Kumari hopped into the tub to pee (as she is the only one who pees outside the box EVER). We had narrowed down the source. Same day, but somewhat later, I discovered bloody urine on the litter mat. Consequently, I freaked out. I called the vet and made an appointment for the next morning.
I brought her in, met the vet, explained the situation. He was extremely unconcerned about it, insisting that it was probably "stress cystitis," but he would keep her for the day to get a urine sample, then call me in the morning with the test results. I told him that I study and practice homeopathic medicine and would prefer to treat her homeopathically. He gave me a disgusted and slightly horrified look and said, "I don't know what that is, I don't know what that means, I don't know what you're going to give her, you can't do that." Thus when he called the next evening (yup, evening, not morning) and told me she had "slightly elevated WBC in the urine and a few crystals" I felt compelled and obligated to fork over the money for a fourteen day course of antibiotics.
She hated the pills. I hated the pills. She had diarrhea for days and continued to pee blood with at least every alternate visit to the mat or tub (she no longer pees in the box, but continues to crap there thank god). Her two week course was up two days ago and she still pees blood (no more diarrhea though. That was ALL antibiotic). I've given her a few homeopathic remedies, one of which seems to maybe be working, as the amount of blood has decreased since yesterday (when I started her on Cantharis 12c). However, she has spent most of yesterday and today in the bedroom closet. She is generally a very social cuddly cat who loves company, her cat tree and her sister, Sophie.
I hope that her recent reticence is because she is healing, but I cannot but worry. Jim called the vet earlier today, but is waiting for a response from the doctor. Her ears and feet are of average temperature, so she has no fever and doesn't seem to be fighting an infection (unless she's doing this by hiding?).
I'm unbelievably glad that I got called off from work tonight. I need to go home and snuggle her until she's well.

Beautiful Weather

2009-04-17T14:49:00.000-07:00

I'm sure many Torontonians out there are writing all over the interweb about his gorgeous day we are having, and I've never been one to sidestep a bandwagon...

Who am I kidding; I've never been on a bandwagon in my life.

It is, however, the most lovely of days we have seen yet this year, clearly since the past few months were January, February and March. I've been sleeping in patches of sunshine, walking to and from the farthest grocery stores laden with fruits and vegetables (local greenhouse grown is available now!). I've even been presented with new working opportunities to start bringing home some extra (but more different) green.

My feet are dirty. But they're bare.

I'm stuck inside tonight instead of out on a patio, or even on my own balcony drinking something with bubbles and enjoying the weather (one of those aforementioned green opportunities). Even though the building is over-air-conditioned I feel warm. I am afflicted with psychological sunshine.

Today I saw a friend to a departure. I hadn't seen him in over a year and was unfortunately not available but for this brief period to see him off to his sister's show. I journeyed home to freshly roasted coffee with my fabulous friend and spent the afternoon lounging in the sun, buying juice, and collecting homeopathic remedies for the cat.

Tonight I sleep away from home and tomorrow it's back to school for a long weekend of studying, working, and dancing.

I want everything to be this beautiful.

Guest List and Presents

2009-04-16T07:08:00.000-07:00

I can hardly believe I've made a wedding spreadsheet. I got the idea from a book, and my Virgotic mind went *ping*.... how come I didn't think of it?? So now I have a shared document with my sister and wedding planner consisting of the guest list (which is not quite finished yet); their names, their replies, their choices of entree, and even a space to record their gift if it is applicable (as we simply aren't registered, and if you're not registered then you can't expect people to go on a wing and a prayer, right?.... Right?)

On the subject of presents I really don't know what to do here. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy presents and appreciate the thought and gesture behind them. However, I can never think of anything I really WANT, or at least anything that would be appropriate. Things that I need are not what one usually asks for in this type of situation, and are too expensive to expect anyone to actually consider (IE: the $5000 homeopathic program that will be useful in my practise... not really a wedding gift. And it's $5000). I spent most of last week looking at china patterns (much to my dismay, although the actual experience with Grandma and Mom was pretty fun), visited this crazy place in my hometown run by the world's crankiest woman with discontinued patterns... it's been a bit surreal. So surreal, in fact, that I've been rendered unable to make any decisions at all and so have not registered for anything. Ever. Likely we will end up registering somewhere, even if it is with an independent local artisan who can be comissioned to make all of our fine "china" as one of a kind art pieces.

I'm told I have to register. I'm told that I'm supposed to treat this event as a sort of "gift grab." I'm told it's expected, customary even, to demand presents from everyone I know. I really hope that the people who know me realize that it isn't me doing most of this. Information being passed down family vines does not necessarily come from this root. Somehow, this vine developed many branches, and they really like to rustle their leaves. I feel at this point it may be time to make an official statement about this, so here goes:

I like presents. But not nearly as much as I love seeing you.
I need for nothing, I want for little.
If inside you there is a great desire, or nagging etiquette guilt that insist that you must gift a bride, I welcome your contribution.
There is no obligation but to arrive, smile, and celebrate.