I have so many years of photographs, I thought this year I'd just edit some of the video I took. Here you go - there's even seven seconds of me, slinking out from behind the camera for a change.
Canada's cottage country... can't be beat.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, August 18, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Winter Get-Away, Part Two
The last three days of my much-needed winter break was a far cry from the gourmet weekend in Elora. This time I was with my parents celebrating my mother's birthday.
My mother is the world's easiest going person. She takes so much pleasure from everything in life that she doesn't have need for a bucket list or some such. Except for one particular dream.
However... a little back story first...
My mother's father was born in Italy but spent several years in the States as a young man, working in Alaska among other places. This was during Prohibition. When he headed back to Italy he met my grandmother and started his family. He brought back with him not only a New York-accented English, but also a love of Robert Service poems and the novels of Jack London, including Zanna Bianca (known in English as White Fang).
So my mother grew up with these influences and developed a love for and fascination with husky dogs. Dog sledding was something she dreamed of doing, and so this year, for her birthday, we surprised her with a trip to Haliburton. Now, when I say we surprised her, we gave her three weeks notice... because a girl needs to know she's properly outfitted!
Winterdance provides a fantastic dogsledding experience. They have 150 Siberian huskies and they love their dogs. The safety and well being of their dogs is paramount and this is evident in all they do and how happy and vigorous the dogs are. Haliburton is three hours north of Toronto, and Winterdance's trail is about half an hour further north. The guides could not have been more helpful and professional. Their very obvious love of the dogs and the care they took of us, the novice clients, was so impressive. Kevin, our fantastic main guide for the day, is also an artist, and you can see his remarkable work in wood here.
My dad rode with Kevin, and my mother rode in another sled with me as driver (she's a brave woman!). Seven more sleds of visitors and two more guide sleds made up the party. Nothing could have prepared me for how special this would be. I suppose I had a more dreamy idea of dog sledding, when in fact it was a vigorous and exciting activity. The sudden pull of the dogs took some getting used to, as they bounded forward excitedly every time we took off. Finding my feet on the narrow runners and learning how to use the all-important brake was a bit of a learning curve too. And for the driver, dog sledding is a work out. As we rode, Kevin told us that in the first month alone of sledding this winter, he lost 15 pounds, and it's not like he needs to. I found myself doffing layers. However the passengers got quite cold. If you plan to dogsled and just ride in the sled, you cannot wrap yourself up too warmly!
We had booked the half-day trip (by far the most popular) and it was perfect. The trails are stunning, sometimes dipping up into Algonquin Park. The land is totally remote, untouched, beautiful, haunting... we crossed a frozen lake, and drove through tree-covered ravines that soared up beside us. The snow had started to fall as we took off, and then began to fall in earnest in great, fat flakes. It was like something out of a film in my imagination - just a little more visceral.
When you drive a sled, you are part of the team, and it makes sense that when you come to inclines, you get off to walk with the dogs, and sometimes help push the sled up. It's invigorating to say the least! When the slope goes downwards, you must use the brake, to make the dogs pull the sled down, ensuring that the sled doesn't run forwards and risk hurting the team.
The dogs are remarkable. They love to pull. When they were getting into harness, one dog named Lily, identified as the queen of the kennel, began to howl. Within moments all 55 dogs were howling, the sound reverberating around the clearing and ringning in my ears. As soon as they had started the run, all was silence. We just heard the slight jingle of harness, the soft rush of the sled, and all else was silence.
Our lead dog was Willow, a small female. She was patient with me, just occasionally looking back as if to say, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Kevin warned us that if we didn't do our bit for the team, like getting off to push when the going got tough, they would just stop, sit down and look over their shoulders at you with the Stare of Death. Each dog was such an individual character. Willow's running mate was Albus, a big boy, unfixed, so I was warned to push him off her if he got amorous, but this was unexpected as she wasn't in heat. No kidding - he acted like she wasn't even there. Rainy, the middle dog, is Willow's sister, and apparently they're mortal enemies. They seem to harbour a powerful hate for each other but all the dogs are gentle and patient with people. After the first burst of energy was out of their system and we'd reached the halfway point, they took interest in us and wanted cuddles. I never learned the names of our two wheel dogs at the back. As they were being harnessed, such was the racket of howling, I couldn't hear what the guides said. But they did tell us that once we were on the trail, we only had to speak to the dogs in a conversational tone, as their ears were pointed back to pick up our sounds.
Here's handsome Albus, the big male dog who ran with our lead dog, Willow. Such a beautiful face... two beautiful faces (the other being my mum's). Secret surprise: I got a print made of this picture of her and Albus today and framed it so she'll open it on her actual birthday (tomorrow).
Pausing on the trail. The scenery took my breath away. My mother's lower legs are there, covered in a blanket.
The privy, tipi, and sign-in hut at the trailhead. In the picture beside it, you can almost make out Willow looking back to check on me!
Sisters and enemies: beautiful, blue-eyed Rainy, and Willow, our lead dog, with the softest fur ever. Look at her wonderful ears!
A half-way break for hot chocolate with marshmallows and home-made danishes (plus treats for the dogs) saw the sun come out... a bit blinding but very welcome. To the left are our wheel dogs, who were such good boys. They loved to pull so much! The one on the left had snow on his nose. During stops on the run, many dogs would push their faces into the snowbanks to cool off. Kevin told us that they're happiest running when it's minus 20 Celsius. This particular day was a bit too warm for them. On the right are the two lead dogs for the sled behind us. The sleepy guy on the left took the advantage of a stop to push his head between my legs and keep it wedged there. Oh haaaaaaiiiii.
The sun started to fade, it got colder, but no less beautiful.
We stayed two nights at a nearby resort, with the world's most comfortable beds. They were needed. I was zonked by about 8:30 on the evening after the dog sledding. A beautiful experience, and one that I wouldn't have wanted to miss.
My mother is the world's easiest going person. She takes so much pleasure from everything in life that she doesn't have need for a bucket list or some such. Except for one particular dream.
However... a little back story first...
My mother's father was born in Italy but spent several years in the States as a young man, working in Alaska among other places. This was during Prohibition. When he headed back to Italy he met my grandmother and started his family. He brought back with him not only a New York-accented English, but also a love of Robert Service poems and the novels of Jack London, including Zanna Bianca (known in English as White Fang).
So my mother grew up with these influences and developed a love for and fascination with husky dogs. Dog sledding was something she dreamed of doing, and so this year, for her birthday, we surprised her with a trip to Haliburton. Now, when I say we surprised her, we gave her three weeks notice... because a girl needs to know she's properly outfitted!
Winterdance provides a fantastic dogsledding experience. They have 150 Siberian huskies and they love their dogs. The safety and well being of their dogs is paramount and this is evident in all they do and how happy and vigorous the dogs are. Haliburton is three hours north of Toronto, and Winterdance's trail is about half an hour further north. The guides could not have been more helpful and professional. Their very obvious love of the dogs and the care they took of us, the novice clients, was so impressive. Kevin, our fantastic main guide for the day, is also an artist, and you can see his remarkable work in wood here.
My dad rode with Kevin, and my mother rode in another sled with me as driver (she's a brave woman!). Seven more sleds of visitors and two more guide sleds made up the party. Nothing could have prepared me for how special this would be. I suppose I had a more dreamy idea of dog sledding, when in fact it was a vigorous and exciting activity. The sudden pull of the dogs took some getting used to, as they bounded forward excitedly every time we took off. Finding my feet on the narrow runners and learning how to use the all-important brake was a bit of a learning curve too. And for the driver, dog sledding is a work out. As we rode, Kevin told us that in the first month alone of sledding this winter, he lost 15 pounds, and it's not like he needs to. I found myself doffing layers. However the passengers got quite cold. If you plan to dogsled and just ride in the sled, you cannot wrap yourself up too warmly!
We had booked the half-day trip (by far the most popular) and it was perfect. The trails are stunning, sometimes dipping up into Algonquin Park. The land is totally remote, untouched, beautiful, haunting... we crossed a frozen lake, and drove through tree-covered ravines that soared up beside us. The snow had started to fall as we took off, and then began to fall in earnest in great, fat flakes. It was like something out of a film in my imagination - just a little more visceral.
When you drive a sled, you are part of the team, and it makes sense that when you come to inclines, you get off to walk with the dogs, and sometimes help push the sled up. It's invigorating to say the least! When the slope goes downwards, you must use the brake, to make the dogs pull the sled down, ensuring that the sled doesn't run forwards and risk hurting the team.
The dogs are remarkable. They love to pull. When they were getting into harness, one dog named Lily, identified as the queen of the kennel, began to howl. Within moments all 55 dogs were howling, the sound reverberating around the clearing and ringning in my ears. As soon as they had started the run, all was silence. We just heard the slight jingle of harness, the soft rush of the sled, and all else was silence.
Our lead dog was Willow, a small female. She was patient with me, just occasionally looking back as if to say, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Kevin warned us that if we didn't do our bit for the team, like getting off to push when the going got tough, they would just stop, sit down and look over their shoulders at you with the Stare of Death. Each dog was such an individual character. Willow's running mate was Albus, a big boy, unfixed, so I was warned to push him off her if he got amorous, but this was unexpected as she wasn't in heat. No kidding - he acted like she wasn't even there. Rainy, the middle dog, is Willow's sister, and apparently they're mortal enemies. They seem to harbour a powerful hate for each other but all the dogs are gentle and patient with people. After the first burst of energy was out of their system and we'd reached the halfway point, they took interest in us and wanted cuddles. I never learned the names of our two wheel dogs at the back. As they were being harnessed, such was the racket of howling, I couldn't hear what the guides said. But they did tell us that once we were on the trail, we only had to speak to the dogs in a conversational tone, as their ears were pointed back to pick up our sounds.
Here's handsome Albus, the big male dog who ran with our lead dog, Willow. Such a beautiful face... two beautiful faces (the other being my mum's). Secret surprise: I got a print made of this picture of her and Albus today and framed it so she'll open it on her actual birthday (tomorrow).
Pausing on the trail. The scenery took my breath away. My mother's lower legs are there, covered in a blanket.
The privy, tipi, and sign-in hut at the trailhead. In the picture beside it, you can almost make out Willow looking back to check on me!
Sisters and enemies: beautiful, blue-eyed Rainy, and Willow, our lead dog, with the softest fur ever. Look at her wonderful ears!
A half-way break for hot chocolate with marshmallows and home-made danishes (plus treats for the dogs) saw the sun come out... a bit blinding but very welcome. To the left are our wheel dogs, who were such good boys. They loved to pull so much! The one on the left had snow on his nose. During stops on the run, many dogs would push their faces into the snowbanks to cool off. Kevin told us that they're happiest running when it's minus 20 Celsius. This particular day was a bit too warm for them. On the right are the two lead dogs for the sled behind us. The sleepy guy on the left took the advantage of a stop to push his head between my legs and keep it wedged there. Oh haaaaaaiiiii.
The sun started to fade, it got colder, but no less beautiful.
We stayed two nights at a nearby resort, with the world's most comfortable beds. They were needed. I was zonked by about 8:30 on the evening after the dog sledding. A beautiful experience, and one that I wouldn't have wanted to miss.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
One Wacky Week
December went by in a bit of a blur, and I realized how blurry it was when I noticed I hadn't posted once in my favourite month of the year, the one that features that little event called Christmas, when I get all weak-kneed and over-excitable.
The month started with a week that featured a whirlwhind trip to Boston and London via Iceland. Bruce the Bat and I put in five flights in five days. This was for my work and - even though I got very few pictures - as my friends know, there's always time to take pictures of Bruce. Obviously.
Monday morning started at 4 a.m. with a 7 a.m. flight to Boston for a photo shoot. Bruce hung out in the photographer's studio, one of his favourite things to do. That evening we flew to London with a three-hour wait in Iceland in the middle of the night. We got to London in the afternoon and I crashed for two hours because... you know.... SLEEP. That Bruce met my aunt and cousins and was a big hit. It was so fantastic to see them again - what a great and gorgeous family I have! They brought champagne which we drank on a picnic bench overlooking the Thames before gorging on excellent dim sum. My cousin Richard took the shot of Bruce with the empty bottle.
One insane day later, we were back in Iceland, but we were delayed due to storms over Britain. Big storms. Turbulence... you will never by my friend. We had to wait overnight for our next flight but the good folks at Keflavik Airport put us up in a hotel and fed us lots of Icelandic-type food. It was too overcast to see the northern lights and too bitterly cold to do anything but run down to the ocean, lose all possible ability to think straight as my brain froze, and run back to the hotel past some interestingly painted little houses. Back in my warm room, I finished reading the next Jane Austen book club book and perused the Icelandic bible. I lay in bed amusing myself by reading it out loud between mouthfuls of duty-free chocolate. I'm easily entertained.
Guess what? Bruce brought back a great souvenir for himself from Keflavik. Meet his new pal Olaf!
We landed in Toronto late on Friday evening.
Saturday was almost the craziest day of the week. In the morning I hightailed it to the St. Lawrence Market to buy my Christmas tree.. I had been aching for this moment, because... well... Christmas tree! And, as usual, I bought it from Jeff the Christmas tree guy, who was featured here. Thanks Jeff! Then it was off to St. Paul's for the big Toronto Star Carol Concert with a friend and the lovely Armenians. Then it was back to L'Espresso Bar Mercurio for the One-Off, Six Meeting, Limited Edition Jane Austen Book Club. But, the previous night, while disembarking the plane, someone had wetly sneezed on my neck and I woke up Sunday morning with a sore throat and a morning voice-over recording. At the studio I guzzled gallons of peppermint tea and tried to rise above my own voice. It seemed to go ok. Home again I unpacked, caught up on Coronation Street AND performed my cold-fighting ritual. The next day, Monday, I went into work feeling totally normal. Well... as normal as I ever can... heh heh. Weirdly, I had no jet lag. Bonus!
The month started with a week that featured a whirlwhind trip to Boston and London via Iceland. Bruce the Bat and I put in five flights in five days. This was for my work and - even though I got very few pictures - as my friends know, there's always time to take pictures of Bruce. Obviously.
Monday morning started at 4 a.m. with a 7 a.m. flight to Boston for a photo shoot. Bruce hung out in the photographer's studio, one of his favourite things to do. That evening we flew to London with a three-hour wait in Iceland in the middle of the night. We got to London in the afternoon and I crashed for two hours because... you know.... SLEEP. That Bruce met my aunt and cousins and was a big hit. It was so fantastic to see them again - what a great and gorgeous family I have! They brought champagne which we drank on a picnic bench overlooking the Thames before gorging on excellent dim sum. My cousin Richard took the shot of Bruce with the empty bottle. One insane day later, we were back in Iceland, but we were delayed due to storms over Britain. Big storms. Turbulence... you will never by my friend. We had to wait overnight for our next flight but the good folks at Keflavik Airport put us up in a hotel and fed us lots of Icelandic-type food. It was too overcast to see the northern lights and too bitterly cold to do anything but run down to the ocean, lose all possible ability to think straight as my brain froze, and run back to the hotel past some interestingly painted little houses. Back in my warm room, I finished reading the next Jane Austen book club book and perused the Icelandic bible. I lay in bed amusing myself by reading it out loud between mouthfuls of duty-free chocolate. I'm easily entertained.
Guess what? Bruce brought back a great souvenir for himself from Keflavik. Meet his new pal Olaf!We landed in Toronto late on Friday evening.
Saturday was almost the craziest day of the week. In the morning I hightailed it to the St. Lawrence Market to buy my Christmas tree.. I had been aching for this moment, because... well... Christmas tree! And, as usual, I bought it from Jeff the Christmas tree guy, who was featured here. Thanks Jeff! Then it was off to St. Paul's for the big Toronto Star Carol Concert with a friend and the lovely Armenians. Then it was back to L'Espresso Bar Mercurio for the One-Off, Six Meeting, Limited Edition Jane Austen Book Club. But, the previous night, while disembarking the plane, someone had wetly sneezed on my neck and I woke up Sunday morning with a sore throat and a morning voice-over recording. At the studio I guzzled gallons of peppermint tea and tried to rise above my own voice. It seemed to go ok. Home again I unpacked, caught up on Coronation Street AND performed my cold-fighting ritual. The next day, Monday, I went into work feeling totally normal. Well... as normal as I ever can... heh heh. Weirdly, I had no jet lag. Bonus!
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Giving Thanks
On Saturday the sun was shining. As a volunteer, I was a guest at a volunteer-appreciation brunch... ahhhh, to be served a delicious meal not-too-early on a weekend morning was such a treat. The company was wonderful, and then it was on to...
The first meeting of the One-Off, Six-Meeting, Limited-Edition Jane Austen Book Club of Toronto! Then three of us waddled to dinner, in a late celebration of two of our birthdays. Lobster mac and cheese. Oh boy. Then we saw Captain Phillips... more on that later. What a day of pleasure.
So... Sunday morning I had planned another sort of day. My mother and I got together and, for both our homes, washed the windows, flipped mattresses, changed mattress covers, put away air conditioners and cleaned. And it was rainy... a perfect day to do it!
Monday dawned sunny, beautifully sunny, with amazing celestial light streaming in the just-cleaned windows. I revelled in my being at home, pottering, reading, until heading out for dinner with parents and friends, so no one had to cook or wash up. This year, I needed that. It felt good. I was just bursting with thankfulness... so very lucky.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Bruce the Bat's Summer
Yes, Bruce the Bat has been along for the ride a lot this summer, as usual. He had a great time.He travelled by streetcar, subway, train, this blog's favourite cute Fiat 500, stayed in hotels and lurked in my overnight bag.He also found an intriguing door at the bottom of a tree in a forest.
More cottage time... and island time!
The ROM has a bat cave, but even cooler was the T-Rex. Look out, Bruce!!!
After all the excitement of ths summer, it was bathtime. Now he doesn't only look good, he smells great!
Monday, August 19, 2013
Attach Drool Cups
When I was in Haliburton, one of this blogger's best friends made us a home-made egg McMuffin sandwich. Which, of course, is a bajillion times better than the bought variety. An English muffin is toasted, while a slice of peameal bacon and an egg cook. They're layered with a slice of cheese, which softens when sandwiched in that heat. Add pepper if desired; you sure won't need salt. That's it folks. OMG, attach my drool cup!
When I came home, my parents were over the following Sunday for breakfast and made these for them. I scored big points. Thanks, D!
Pictured top left: D's original, and obviously the prototype which cannot be bettered. Beside it is the slab of peameal I brought home, to be sliced to thicknesses of my choosing. Bottom left: the startled eggs ask, "We donated our bodies to WHAT??!" Bottom right: my version, slightly obscene with its tongue of buttered egg, and another of chewy bacon. Not quite as visually perfect as D's... but ALL GOOD NONETHELESS.
When I came home, my parents were over the following Sunday for breakfast and made these for them. I scored big points. Thanks, D!
Pictured top left: D's original, and obviously the prototype which cannot be bettered. Beside it is the slab of peameal I brought home, to be sliced to thicknesses of my choosing. Bottom left: the startled eggs ask, "We donated our bodies to WHAT??!" Bottom right: my version, slightly obscene with its tongue of buttered egg, and another of chewy bacon. Not quite as visually perfect as D's... but ALL GOOD NONETHELESS.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Kawarthas, 2013... Food
During our stay in the Kawarthas, we ate well, as we always do, celebrating that great pleasure in life. When stressed as I live my life in the big city, I find cooking and baking relaxes me. Up there, time slows, and still there is such pleasure to be taken from planning, preparing and serving food to people we love.
Twenty minutes drive away from the cottage is this blog's favourite bakery, Apsley Country Bakery (famed in my circle for its hippy, three-seed, grain and other breads). They're now making croissants! Reading on the excellent website, which now features well-illustrated information on the building of the bread oven, the maintaining of it, and more, I see that these are sourdough croissants and that there are wonderful pictures describing the process of making them. To my mind, they're real country croissants, with more chew and flavour in them than usual, and totally addictive.
One of the croissants is shown top left, of course. The rest of the images give an idea of how well we ate during our vacation. There was also M's always-wonderful tiramisu and lemon-blueberry pancakes with wild berries picked off the uninhabited island opposite. Visiting it always makes me think of Swallows and Amazons.
Twenty minutes drive away from the cottage is this blog's favourite bakery, Apsley Country Bakery (famed in my circle for its hippy, three-seed, grain and other breads). They're now making croissants! Reading on the excellent website, which now features well-illustrated information on the building of the bread oven, the maintaining of it, and more, I see that these are sourdough croissants and that there are wonderful pictures describing the process of making them. To my mind, they're real country croissants, with more chew and flavour in them than usual, and totally addictive.
One of the croissants is shown top left, of course. The rest of the images give an idea of how well we ate during our vacation. There was also M's always-wonderful tiramisu and lemon-blueberry pancakes with wild berries picked off the uninhabited island opposite. Visiting it always makes me think of Swallows and Amazons.
Friday, June 28, 2013
A Great Day With the Best Dad
Father's Day was so much fun. We started off the morning with croissants, tea and coffee in L'Espresso Bar Mercurio, a blog favourite, which now has a vintage Fiat 500 right inside the front entrance.
Then we headed to the Bata Shoe Museum as my dad had never been there. Amazing items! There was a beautiful exhibition of Matteo Brogi's photographs of people and their shoes, some famous, some not, only photographed from their knees down, often in their place of work.
Then onto the displays. The earliest shoe was in fact a reproduction (there are very few of those in the museum). This was the shoe of the Ötzi man (c 3300 BC). The description read: "The sole of this replica shoe, like the original, is made of bearskin, the upper is of deerskin and the internal 'cage' is of twined linden bark. The shoe is padded with grass for insulation. During field tests, it was found that the shoe was comfortable, did not give the wearer blisters and was effective in temperatures of -5 to -10 degrees C." That shoe is seen below, top row, middle. To the right of it is a (Chinese I think) overshoe that was worn to stomp down the snow around a dwelling. It came right up the leg, almost like wearing a straw barrel.
Last time I was on Bloor at Bay we ran into a pot protest. This time the road was closed down for the Yorkville Exotic Car Show. Niiiiiice. Among the Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Porsches, there was a stunning red Bentley convertible (middle row) which had us both drooling.
We made our way through the crowds for lunch at Lee Chen (still a blog favourite) and then to the Varsity to see Much Ado About Nothing (2012, below). Filmed in black and white over 12 days in director Joss Whedon's own California home, I suspect this film will be either loved or hated. Purists might bristle. I didn't. The setting is entirely contemporary and the language suffers only a little from editing and the casual way in which it is spoken. But that very natural delivery is part of the charm and proof that Shakespeare is timeless, relevant and magical. The very goofyness of the Hero plot is not important. The intent and the emotions are beautifully put forward. The actors are attractive but believeable. The comedy is very downplayed, and the imagery is ravishing, leaving me in a dreamy state.
All in all, a great day. But none of it inspires my gratitude more than the man who inspired the day. Thanks, Pop, for being the very best! I love you very much.
Still below from Much Ado About Nothing.
Then we headed to the Bata Shoe Museum as my dad had never been there. Amazing items! There was a beautiful exhibition of Matteo Brogi's photographs of people and their shoes, some famous, some not, only photographed from their knees down, often in their place of work.
Then onto the displays. The earliest shoe was in fact a reproduction (there are very few of those in the museum). This was the shoe of the Ötzi man (c 3300 BC). The description read: "The sole of this replica shoe, like the original, is made of bearskin, the upper is of deerskin and the internal 'cage' is of twined linden bark. The shoe is padded with grass for insulation. During field tests, it was found that the shoe was comfortable, did not give the wearer blisters and was effective in temperatures of -5 to -10 degrees C." That shoe is seen below, top row, middle. To the right of it is a (Chinese I think) overshoe that was worn to stomp down the snow around a dwelling. It came right up the leg, almost like wearing a straw barrel.
The bottom image illustrates Dutch "klompen" which sounds even more endearing than "clogs." The three shown were worn by a woman from Marken in the 19th century. From
left to right: her intricately carved wedding clogs, her decoratively
painted clogs for church, and her somber clogs for funerals.
There were other amazing examples of shoes through history and the excellent
displays told us somethings we already knew, that the evolution of
sumptuous high heels were to indicate that the wearer was wealthy and
had no need to work physically; and some things we didn't, such as the
fact that reptile skin became popular during the World War II years
because it wasn't a material that was affected by war-time needs or
rationing.
Then it was celebrity shoe time! Here are some of my favourites: Top row from left to right: shoes worn by Marilyn Monroe (red), Elizabeth Taylor (silver), Judy Garland (in The Harvey Girls), James Stewart, and - on the far right - Queen Victoria's dancing shoes. They were tiny! In the bottom row there are the ballet slippers of Dame Margot Fonteyn (Nureyev's were beside hers and his were remarkably small) and the simplest shoes of all, a pair of plastic flipflops belonging to the current Dalai Lama. And yes, photography is allowed, but not flash.
Last time I was on Bloor at Bay we ran into a pot protest. This time the road was closed down for the Yorkville Exotic Car Show. Niiiiiice. Among the Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Porsches, there was a stunning red Bentley convertible (middle row) which had us both drooling.
We made our way through the crowds for lunch at Lee Chen (still a blog favourite) and then to the Varsity to see Much Ado About Nothing (2012, below). Filmed in black and white over 12 days in director Joss Whedon's own California home, I suspect this film will be either loved or hated. Purists might bristle. I didn't. The setting is entirely contemporary and the language suffers only a little from editing and the casual way in which it is spoken. But that very natural delivery is part of the charm and proof that Shakespeare is timeless, relevant and magical. The very goofyness of the Hero plot is not important. The intent and the emotions are beautifully put forward. The actors are attractive but believeable. The comedy is very downplayed, and the imagery is ravishing, leaving me in a dreamy state.
All in all, a great day. But none of it inspires my gratitude more than the man who inspired the day. Thanks, Pop, for being the very best! I love you very much.
Still below from Much Ado About Nothing.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Two Lovely Women, Two Lovely Outings, Both Kind of Wrapped in Dim Sum... Attaching my Drool Cup as I Type
I went with a friend to the graduate show at the Ontario College of Art and Design... plus shopping for watercolour supplies at Above Ground Art Supplies which is right next door. Is there anything more alluring than the promise inside an art supply store? Well, I can think of a few things, if pushed, but I was in temptation heaven, and got all I need from that lovely, creaky old building. After, we retired to Sky Dragon in Chinatown, where it was too late to witness the little carts of dim sum being trolleyed around, but we still had a blow-out feast. I particularly enjoyed the steamed pea shoots. Gorrrr!
A week later my mother and I had a fantastic day together (ok, it was officially a Mother's Day celebration but we don't need to be told when to celebrate, but I don't mind another excuse). We visited a favourite museums, the Gardiner, and then saw Kon Tiki, a movie I'll blether on about in another post. Before the movie, we went to Lee Chen, which we had discovered together this past winter. It's on the west side of Yonge, just north of Bloor. The broth was as fresh and delicious as before, but this time we discovered the "bao," a Chinese sandwich you can build yourself, on a very soft, steamed bun. We had the pork option, deciding that for our next visit we'll try some of the others... a sort of bao taste test. Okay, my mouth is really watering. Let's just look at some pictures while I blot my chin. (Heh, heh, just kidding... sort of).
A week later my mother and I had a fantastic day together (ok, it was officially a Mother's Day celebration but we don't need to be told when to celebrate, but I don't mind another excuse). We visited a favourite museums, the Gardiner, and then saw Kon Tiki, a movie I'll blether on about in another post. Before the movie, we went to Lee Chen, which we had discovered together this past winter. It's on the west side of Yonge, just north of Bloor. The broth was as fresh and delicious as before, but this time we discovered the "bao," a Chinese sandwich you can build yourself, on a very soft, steamed bun. We had the pork option, deciding that for our next visit we'll try some of the others... a sort of bao taste test. Okay, my mouth is really watering. Let's just look at some pictures while I blot my chin. (Heh, heh, just kidding... sort of).
Sunday, January 13, 2013
A Trifling Resolution
Yes, I made a resolution. A January 13 one. Starting tomorrow morning I will wake up at 6 and do a workout before work. Yep. That's it. I'm resolved.
Oh, and here was New Year's trifle, courtesy of the world's best and most beauteous mother. Her classic recipe was topped with Godive chocolate pearls and I, in my vulgar way, plopped a dark Lindor ball in the middle. Heaven in a bowl. Pass the spoon. The BIG spoon.
Oh, and here was New Year's trifle, courtesy of the world's best and most beauteous mother. Her classic recipe was topped with Godive chocolate pearls and I, in my vulgar way, plopped a dark Lindor ball in the middle. Heaven in a bowl. Pass the spoon. The BIG spoon.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Hey!
When I was eight, my father did two things. He went down on his knees and begged me never to smoke. He really did. He made me promise as he knelt in front of me. It had the required impact. I was amazed at my father's zeal, and I made that promise, and I never smoked even when tempted. I just remembered. It was a clever parental move. He never smoked much and then it was a pipe, and he quit decades ago.
That same year he also taught me how to tie a tie, in case I ever had to for my husband when I grew up and got married. Pfff.
Today, I tied a bowtie.
Now, I really feel all growed up.
I might even be ready to get married. Pfff.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Day-Tripping with the Parentals
This was a treat - a day trip with my parental units!
We visited Port Perry, about an hour and a half north east of Toronto, on the shores of the shallow Lake Scugog. We took a two-hour cruise (they actually had the Gilligan's Island theme music as background music!). We shopped, as the mainstreet is very conducive to this sort of behaviour. I bought a silver ring (I love the bobbles), and a single-wound beaded bracelet, which was about $12. Not much more than I would have spent to make it.
We came home through the sideroads in the low-afternoon light: magic hour.
We visited Port Perry, about an hour and a half north east of Toronto, on the shores of the shallow Lake Scugog. We took a two-hour cruise (they actually had the Gilligan's Island theme music as background music!). We shopped, as the mainstreet is very conducive to this sort of behaviour. I bought a silver ring (I love the bobbles), and a single-wound beaded bracelet, which was about $12. Not much more than I would have spent to make it.
We came home through the sideroads in the low-afternoon light: magic hour.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A bit More Theatre
I went back to see Frankenstein, having seen both cast options broadcast on the big screen from the National Theatre last spring. This time I made sure to see Benedict Cumberbatch as the creature and Jonny Lee Miller as Victor Frankenstein. I'm a big fan of Cumberbatch. Have you seen his Sherlock series? There have been two seasons of three long episodes each, each telling in contemporary form one of the tales. It's one of the best things I've ever seen on television, each one a gem.
Then, on Father's Day eve, I took my dad to see Soulpepper's winning You Can't Take it With You. This company continues to engage me. I must get off my arse and subscribe. Their regular company of actors is always excellent and one touch I appreciate is having one of the performers add an artist note to the program. This time it was Eric Peterson, who was playing Grandpa. I won't transcribe the whole thing, but I loved this:
"I start to realize this is the first old guy I've played, since I started playing old guys, that isn't grouchy, and angry; who is happy and brave. A bit of a stretch for me."
Soulpepper performs in the Distillery District (a five-minute walk), but, the restaurants were experiencing water shortages or something, so we preceded the play with dinner at one of this blog's favourites, Mangia e Bevi. Yum.
Post-show, the actors invited the audience (first-come, first-served) to an adjoining space where they often have Saturday night cabarets, with a bar. Most of the cast was there, Mike Ross on piano and vocals, with some comely back up singers, doing numbers by John Lennon and Neil Young, between actors interviewing actors and having a good time. Soulpepper founding member William Webster also got a four-minute slot (he was stop-watched) where he got to talk about... opera!
I HEART Soulpepper.
Then, on Father's Day eve, I took my dad to see Soulpepper's winning You Can't Take it With You. This company continues to engage me. I must get off my arse and subscribe. Their regular company of actors is always excellent and one touch I appreciate is having one of the performers add an artist note to the program. This time it was Eric Peterson, who was playing Grandpa. I won't transcribe the whole thing, but I loved this:
"I start to realize this is the first old guy I've played, since I started playing old guys, that isn't grouchy, and angry; who is happy and brave. A bit of a stretch for me."
Soulpepper performs in the Distillery District (a five-minute walk), but, the restaurants were experiencing water shortages or something, so we preceded the play with dinner at one of this blog's favourites, Mangia e Bevi. Yum.
Post-show, the actors invited the audience (first-come, first-served) to an adjoining space where they often have Saturday night cabarets, with a bar. Most of the cast was there, Mike Ross on piano and vocals, with some comely back up singers, doing numbers by John Lennon and Neil Young, between actors interviewing actors and having a good time. Soulpepper founding member William Webster also got a four-minute slot (he was stop-watched) where he got to talk about... opera!
I HEART Soulpepper.
Friday, June 22, 2012
June Trip: Lower East Side, and Points More Easterly
I didn't want to regiment my time in NYC, I mean, where do you start and
where do you end? But there were two things I had to do.
The first was to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art's refurbished Islamic wing. I have a thing for Persian miniatures, and all things of a Persian esthetic. It was splendid, truly beautifully arranged. Carpets, paintings, calligraphy, armour, and the exquisite miniatures, each placed low on the wall, with a stool before it, so you could just sit and soak each one in. I didn't visit any other galleries in this visit.
The second venue I wanted to visit was the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. This is all part of my interest in my past, and that of my Italian grandfather, who emigrated through Ellis Island in 1920. He later returned to Rome to meet and marry my nonna, and to raise his family. I was always puzzled as a child as to why he spoke English with a New York accent!
What struck me was how little seems to have changed. In fact, it was this lack of change that helped the museum come to be. The upper floors of many tenements were locked up and left intact, as landlords, in the face of improved living condition laws, and unwilling to improve their properties, simply locked up what couldn't be improved upon, and rented out only lower floors to shop-keepers. The tour I went on, which lasted about an hour, told the story of a Jewish family in the 1860s, and an Italian family in the 1930s. These were actual families who lived in the recreated apartments we visited. It was haunting and remarkable.
While wondering around taking these pictures, I inadvertently wondered into this sweet spot. Nice... real nice.
The first was to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art's refurbished Islamic wing. I have a thing for Persian miniatures, and all things of a Persian esthetic. It was splendid, truly beautifully arranged. Carpets, paintings, calligraphy, armour, and the exquisite miniatures, each placed low on the wall, with a stool before it, so you could just sit and soak each one in. I didn't visit any other galleries in this visit.
The second venue I wanted to visit was the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. This is all part of my interest in my past, and that of my Italian grandfather, who emigrated through Ellis Island in 1920. He later returned to Rome to meet and marry my nonna, and to raise his family. I was always puzzled as a child as to why he spoke English with a New York accent!
What struck me was how little seems to have changed. In fact, it was this lack of change that helped the museum come to be. The upper floors of many tenements were locked up and left intact, as landlords, in the face of improved living condition laws, and unwilling to improve their properties, simply locked up what couldn't be improved upon, and rented out only lower floors to shop-keepers. The tour I went on, which lasted about an hour, told the story of a Jewish family in the 1860s, and an Italian family in the 1930s. These were actual families who lived in the recreated apartments we visited. It was haunting and remarkable.
While wondering around taking these pictures, I inadvertently wondered into this sweet spot. Nice... real nice.
Friday, June 1, 2012
That Old Black Magic Called Geneology
I'm not sure where it will take me, but I'm currently tracking my Italian nonno's (grandfather's) arrival at Ellis Island in 1920, and his home on Rend Avenue, Brooklyn. He was 16 years old. I don't think Rend Avenue exists anymore, but I'm on the hunt for that too.
I'm also following the journey of a non-blood relative, but one who was part of an incredible family tragedy that took place in Pennsylvania. He had married my great aunt, and, after her early death, ended up in Ohio.
Between online newspapers, the Ellis Island Foundation, and ancestry.ca, I hope to find some interesting facts about these American ties.
If I do, I'll be sure to share them here, as I will also share any dead ends I come up against, in the hope of getting answers.
Sigh... If I had a super power, it would be time travel.
I'm also following the journey of a non-blood relative, but one who was part of an incredible family tragedy that took place in Pennsylvania. He had married my great aunt, and, after her early death, ended up in Ohio.
Between online newspapers, the Ellis Island Foundation, and ancestry.ca, I hope to find some interesting facts about these American ties.
If I do, I'll be sure to share them here, as I will also share any dead ends I come up against, in the hope of getting answers.
Sigh... If I had a super power, it would be time travel.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)