in da houuuse!

Move over, Webster, there's a new kid on the block. He brings with him a hella big attitude. Holla!

Since I was already there, I decide to clear up something that has been plaguing me for ages...

fo' shizzle my nizzle: a bastardization of "fo' sheezy mah neezy" which is a bastardization of "for sure mah nigga" which is a bastdardization of "I concur with you whole heartedly my African american brother"

I really should be packing for my flight to Philly tomorrow morning, but instead, I'm procrastinating like a champ. I'm going to regret this later when my eyelids are heavy and I'm sprawled on my bedroom floor with an empty suitcase and stacks of clothes waiting to go in.

Speaking of which, I'm not sure how often I'll be posting when I'm away. I may post a lot (out of sheer boredom and lonliness), or a little (due to being overly busy), or not at all - in which case, I promise to take an old school journal with me to jot down notes and observations (and perhaps a sketch or two, if I'm lucky). From there, I'll determine if there's anything worth posting from the trip.

Ciao, kiddos!

pretty in pink

After two years of being in Japan, Lisa has finally come home for a limited engagement, much to my excitement. Before I fly off and she jet sets to Montreal to visit friends, we got together for a little window shopping along South Granville, a delicious dinner at Vij's, smoothies at Bread Garden, and produce shopping at Safeway (along with a lesson from a friendly shopper on how to pick a perfect watermelon).

As we walked down the street and people watched from our window seats, all of Vancouver seemed to be parading around town in various shades of pink. From the bubblegum pink dresses in the boutique shop windows to the deep fuschia linen garb donned by the esteemed Vikram Vij, himself, the city was pinker than a blushing bride on her wedding night. This led us to the conclusion that pink is the new black. But of course! How could we have missed this?


pretty in plaid 

So, upon arriving home last night, I pulled my pink Ben Sherman shirt out of the closet and got it ready to pack with me to Philly. I'm a slave to fashion.

watching the sunset

Picture this...dining in a rooftop garden with a view of the city and the water below.  The table covered with white linen and a handful of vibrantly coloured sunflowers sit in a white vase in the centre.  The chairs are wide and comfortable, with fluffy oversized pillows printed with a graphic black and white design on the seat and back.  Smooth, polished white stones are scattered artfully around the table - every detail, just so.  Wine glasses sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight as the warm breeze rustles through the tall grasses, gingko, and maple trees planted around the table.

Dinner was brilliant.  Started off with a basket of baguette slices and a dish of roasted garlic and soft cheese each, followed by fresh pasta with scallops and crabmeat in a cream sauce.  I brought some elderberry flower water and berries to accompany the meal - which turned out to be a nice complement.

We ate, talked, laughed, took silly pictures, and watched the sun go down across the water as tugboats drifted by.  It's the most perfect evening I've spent in a long time.


after dinner

squisher of dreams

After not hearing a peep out of my former intern from hell, I figured that he had indeed moved to San Fransisco to mooch off his Mom, as was originally planned.  So, I was surprised to get a call from someone this morning asking me for a reference on his behalf.  Here's how the conversation went...

Her:  So, can you you confirm tat Intern did indeed work with you during the dates he specified?

Me:  Sure.

Her: What was the nature of the work that Intern did while he was working with you.

Me:  He worked in the graphics department and was assigned mostly production oriented tasks.

Her: What would you say his greatest strengths were?

Me:  Ummm...hmmmm...ahhhhh...  (long pause)  Can we come back to this question?

Her:  Okay, what would you say his greatest weakness is?

Me:  Oooh...  (another long pause because I'm biting my tongue)  Can you tell me what position he's applied for with your copmany?  It might give me a better indication as to how to best answer your questions.

Her: Sure.  He's applied to be part of our computer sales team.  Knowing that, do you think he's suitable for the role?

Me:  With that bit of information, I can probably give you better answers than I've been able to thus far.  (laughter)  What I can say for Intern is that he's extremely knowledgeable when it comes to computers - both hardware and software.  He knows his stuff and really knows his way around the machines.  I would hestitate though, to place him in direct line with clients because he does tend to have trouble carrying himself well in business settings.  He probably needs more work, and perhaps a little coaching in this area.

Her:  Funny, we picked up the same thing during his interview.  Now, was he punctual?

Me: Not exactly...

Her: Late to work?

Me: Yes.  (I hestitated to add "every single day" - but in the end decided to give him a break and leave it at that.)

Her:  Okay.  Now, at the end of his internship, you had no need for him anymore?

Me:  You could say that. 

Her:  If you had an opening, would you consider hiring him again?

Me: Hmmm...for a strictly production-oriented contract position, I might consider it (if I was really desparate!)

Her:  Great.  Thanks for your time.

Okay, this was grossly paraphrased, of course, but you get the idea.  I was the perfect picture of diplomacy and restraint throughout the entire conversation.  Truthful, yet tactful.  After I hung up, I laughed so hard, I almost started crying.  I told boss man about it at lunch and he couldn't stop laughing either.

I should probably mention that I'm not like this with all my interns.  In fact, I loved my first intern so much, he's been working part-time with me (paid with real, honest -to-goodness money this time) for the past month and will be covering for me while I'm away.  See, I'm not completely evil.  I'm a good reference for the good kids - and a civil one for the, shall we say, 'sub par' ones.

the gluttonous paranoid leper

gluttony
As I sit here typing, I’m consuming my second bowl of Chef Boyardee.  I know, I know…  In my defence, I just got home after a twelve-hour long day today and am hungry as well, so give a man a break!  I have to admit that I started to feel a little guilty about what I was stuffing myself with, when I was standing beside the zapper, so I threw some salad greens into a bowl along with some blueberries and cashews just to make my meal somewhat more ‘rounded.’  I doubt it will do much to offset the other crap that I’m eating, but it makes me feel healthier, okay? 
 
Come to think of it, I grabbed lunch at the grease factory today as well.  Man, oh man!  One day, I’m going to wake up and find a fat old slob facing me in the mirror saying, ”What the hell happened to you?” 
 
Tomorrow I start running again.
 
If I can get myself up early enough…
 
 
paranoia
Had a chat with my manager today – same old same old…I’ve been working too much overtime, need to cut back, etc.  Then we briefly got to talking about how my job description has changed unofficially over the past several months, to the point where I’m doing the job of two people in two distinctly separate roles (his words, not mine).  Neither of us wanted to get too deep into the conversation, as we’re both kind of expecting to talk about all of this and more during my performance evaluation this Thursday.  I think I can safely say that this one will run pretty long.  Beside the fact that I love having hours devoted strictly to talking about myself (I don’t.), I have a lot on my mind and probably just as much to get off my chest.
 
He mentioned that our HR Manager had been asking about where I was in terms of pursuing other opportunities - whether I was still looking within the company or if I had started to set my sights externally.  She had tried to ask me the same thing about a week ago in a roundabout kind of way, but I didn’t really give her a straight answer then.  Not wanting to reveal too much, I was purposefully vague, which probably bothered her a bit, since I’m usually quite open with her.
 
I guess since my last opportunity to go to Greece got trampled on, I’ve started to get kind of paranoid about whom to trust.  As much as they tell me that they will do everything that they can to support me, I still can’t help but feel that they are looking out for their best interests first, and mine second - but only if it suits them. 
 
So, I’m still waffling on whether or not I will disclose fully my dealings with the folks in Sweden.  This afternoon, after our conversation, I considered telling him everything, but now, I’m considering everything more strategically and I’m not so sure.  Then again, if they really want to screw me over, they’ll do it anyway, and there’s not really much I can do about it.  The thing is, that regardless of what happens, while he's still my manager, he can make life as pleasant, or as miserable for me as he wants to. 
 
I really hate having to think like this.  It makes my head hurt! 
 
Amusingly enough, on the CD player right now, Jacksoul is belting his little heart out singing, “I believe that we should all exist together - that’s the only we can stand through stormy weather…”  Sing it, bruthah!
 
leprosy
Okay, that may be an overly dramatic way to describe my current condition, but it's how I feel, dammit!  I'm covered in bug bites from haging out in Jeanette and Tom's backyard all Saturday evening.  As I was putting cortizone cream on myself this morning, I discovered three new red bumps.  I swear, these suckers are multiplying and it's driving me nuts!
 
Despite being unknowingly  devoured by mosquitos and various other insects, Saturday was a good time.  I'll post photos as soon as I get my ass in gear...although it may also depend on how preparations for my trip go.  

here they are...

summertiiime...and the living is eeeaaasy... 


paper lanterns 

wish you were here...

I was at work for thirteen hours today, assembling press kits and dousing fires left and right, so I'm way too tired for words.  Funny incident at dinner though, which I must impart - so I write on.  Pardon the incoherent sentences and misspelled words if any happen to follow...
 
After previously mentioned thirteen hour day, I drove to an upscale Chinese restaurant to meet my family and extended family (my aunt, cousins, and in-laws) for dinner.  It's the nine year anniversary of my favourite uncle's death from cancer and we get together every year for dinner to remember him and be together as a family - something he would have liked.  So, this place is very swanky, in the Chinese definition of the term - big ass chandeliers, lots of mahogany furniture, gilded gold wall sconces, ornate tapestries on the walls, etc.  Definitely very Chinese - not "fusion" or white-washed Chinese.  Full on ten course meal, with a change of plates for every course.  Like I said, fancy schtuff!
 
Anyway, a good meal was had by all, and lots of fun conversation around the table.  Finally, as dessert rolls around, two of our waiters come to the table carrying a beautiful fruit flan with a lit candle, singing the birthday song.  Keeping in mind the fact that we were there to commemorate the anniversary of my uncle's death, I wasn't sure how to react when these two sweet Chinese waiters came towards us with a birthday cake.  They were singing quite intently and with such gusto that nobody had the heart to tell them to stop.  There was just an uncomfortable silence at the table as everyone tried to make sense of what was happening. 
 
Finally, I could take it no longer - the absurdity of the situation caused the laughter to pour out of me like a burst dam.  Everyone joined in the nervous laughter and the poor waiters were left standing there without a clue as to why we were all laughing so hard and wondering who was going to blow out the candle on the cake and take the knife to cut the first slice.  The sight of these two bewildered waiters made me laugh even harder, and I swear, I almost peed my pants! 
 
Funny how the most inappropriate things make you laugh at the most inappropriate times, but can somehow become the perfect way to mark the moment.  From his celestial vantage point, Uncle Peter was probably holding his belly laughing at that very moment as well.

wanted: nyc trip planner/tour guide

I'm gosh darned excited about going to see the bright lights of the big city, but way too lazy to plan my own trip. My super friend Lorraine, who recently resigned from the multinational hotel chain that she has been working at, has even offered me a friends and family discount rate before she leaves her job. The only problem is that I'm sick of looking at numbers and terrified of trying to figure out how much I can actually afford after everything is converted to Canadian Loonies. I'm not sure I can even afford to stay at said hotel chain even with the discount. This vexes my soul and makes my heart heavy. (Too melodramatic?) As I fly to Philly in about a week-and-a-half, here's my last-ditch plea to get someone else to plan my trip for me:

Trip planner/NYC tour guide wanted for August 21-26. Must be familiar with NYC (or at least know how to read a map). Only fun-loving, adventure-seeking individuals need apply. Spontaneity and general idiocy welcomed and generally encouraged. Payment will be rendered in the form of eternal gratitude (not in monetary exchange, since I will have little or none left after paying for the hotel). Free meals may be granted. The offering of my firstborn (if that is what you so desire as payment for services rendered) can also be negotiated. All interested parties are asked to submit their applications in the comments section below.

absolut triptych

Beacause she's one of my favourite people at work and because she's a collector of all things ABSOLUT, these are a series of illustrations which I'm planning on framing and presenting to my friend Katija, who's leaving the beautiful west coast for the freezing cold winters of montreal. Ahhhh, the things people do for love...








1. Reminiscent of the ABSOLUT CITRON ads, this one sets her fiery red hair and curly locks (from which she gets her nicknames 'Red' and 'Rusty') on an olive green background - her favourite colour and the colour of everything currently residing in her living room.

2. Beacause she's an interior decorator. And because cool blues paired with dark, rich chocolate browns are the new black & white, dontcha' know?

3. An unabashed spin-off of the ABSOLUT 24th ads that run during the holidays where you see a woman carrying boxes of holiday gifts home in the snow. I went with for the sappy entimental cheese and depcted her on moving day, as she sets out on a new adventure in Montreal. Certainly not the greatest or most striking illustration, but hey, it does the trick.

wheelin' and dealin'

Woke up at an unreasonably early hour again this morning to trudge into the office for yet another call from Sweden. The nine hour time difference between there and here will be the death of me!

Basically, this call was a follow-up from the billion back-and-forth e-mails and other telephone calls that have zipped back and forth from them to me (and vice-versa) for the past two-and-a-half months. There's no job offer at this point. The original position has been split into two functions now - one strategic, the other, operational. The operational role needed to be filled asap, so they pulled someone from another division within the project to ease the pressure. He's only been in the role for five days, but it sounds like he's going to be responsible for the day-today running of the website, updating content, editing, and putting together the monthly newsletter.

The strategic role is a little more up in the air right now, partially because the role calls for fewer tangible deliverables than the direct operative role. It's more of a long-range planning and development role, at least from what I understand, which means more planning and follow-through and less actual doing. It's something that they intuitively feel a need for, but want to be fair to the project and to the person they eventually recruit, so after a long vacation (apparently the tradition in Sweden is for everyone to take long summer holidays to be with family and enjoy the nice weather), they will put together a new job description and pick up the recruiting where it has left off.

I guess I was hoping for more concrete answers as to where this leaves me, but I really have no complaints. She was quite honest and frank with me about where the project is at this stage and how the roles (even hers) are eveolving on a daily basis. They seem keen to have me on board, but don't want to string me along until the fall (when they'll finalize the revised job description) unless I'm okay with it. I'm certainly up for a change, and if it means having to wait a few more months to see what will come of it, I think I can hold on...just...a...little...longer.

To be perfectly honest, at this point, I'm just glad to have made some contacts out there in the montherland. Although it all sounds positive, I'm not absolutely certain that this thing will pan out even in the fall (I would be stupid to bet on it). However, the fact that I'm starting to develop international contacts within the organization will hopefully make it easier for me to remain mobile should I choose to do so in the future. Look-at-me, the wheeler & dealer and master schemer!

Meanwhile, my manager is still oblivious to all of that's transpired thus far. I still haven't decided if I'm going to tell him about any of these goings-on during my upcoming performance evaluation. Part of me wants to keep it under wraps and spring it on him at the last posisble minute so that they're left scrambling when the time comes to evntually find a replacement for me. However, the other part of me wants to see him squirm uncomfortably in reaction to hearing about how I've managed to get these wheels in motion without him being aware. Delayed or instant gratification...which would be sweeter, I wonder?

lawd help us!

I've always enjoyed reading humourous church signs for roll-your-eyes-for-dramatic-effect puns or intended (and often unintended) witticism. However, I have never seen signs that have made me laugh so hard in these parts. Perhaps it's just as well...


always there to lend a helping hand


thank you? i think?

I can't take credit for these. That goes straight to the pastors of these unfortunate congregations. However, you can feel free to generate your very own nugget of holy wisdom. Tread lightly though...your personal salvation or damnation is on the balance!

wet paint

the invitation

Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a longhandled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the farreaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a treebox discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour -- and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:

"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."

- From "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer", by Mark Twain

We had a backyard barbecue and fence painting party today. Okay, so it's not the most original idea we've ever had for a party. Young Tom Sawyer happened upon it first when he decided to get his friends to help him paint Aunt Polly's fence. Regardless, our fence needed to get painted, so we thought it would be the perfect excuse to get some friends together for some summertime fun and barbecuing. The fence got painted, we enjoyed good food, cold drinks, great beach party tunes from my university dorm days...and I even got a bit of a tan! I wanna do it again next week. Except for the painting part.

apparently...

Jenny Turpish, though she has no clue who I am, nor do I her, says this of me:

Wackiness: 10/100
Rationality: 50/100
Constructiveness: 90/100
Leadership: 66/100

You are an SECL--Sober Emotional Constructive Leader. This makes you a politician. You cut deals, you change minds, you make things happen. You would prefer to be liked than respected, but generally people react to you with both. You are very sensitive to criticism, since your entire business is making people happy.

At times your commitment to the happiness of other people can cut into the happiness of you and your loved ones. This is very demanding on those close to you, who may feel neglected. Slowly, you will learn to set your own agenda--including time to yourself.

You are gregarious, friendly, charming and charismatic. You like animals, sports, and beautiful cars. You wear understated gold jewelry and have secret bad habits, like chewing your fingers and fidgeting.

You are very difficult to dislike.

The whole 'politician' things worries me. should i be flattered or offended? the gold jewelry thing makes me laugh. The animals, sports, beautiful cars thing sounds very highschool. Everything else rings fairly true though. Damn, Jenny! Have you been stalking me? Well, do a better job, for goodness sake! At least I'm difficult to dislike... Does that mean that I'm easy to like?

In other news, I'm completely in love with the parasol. We ordered pizza tonight for dinner and ate out on the patio. It's like having our very own summer getaway in the backyard. Now all I need are pretty drinks with limes in them to make my life complete.

viva la parasol

Just in time for our painting party and barbecue this weekend, I have procured for the backyard a freakin' huge parasol (translation: patio umbrella). It stretches out four metres wide and has a clean, crisp white fabric shade. Just imagine sittting in the luxurious shade on the backyard sipping drinks on the patio. I'm giddy with excitement!

And I managed to snag the whole shebang for forty-three dollars and change, just a little less than half the regular price. It was one of the display models, and I had the J call me when while was taking down the summer displays to let me know if there was a parasol among the things for me. Another one of the perks of the job - first pick of the marked down cast-offs!

The word parasol makes me think of pretty pink umbrellas, or lacy, frilly things that Eliza Dolittle would hold with both hands and twirl as she sang. My newest acquisition is neither lacy, nor frilly. It's strong and heavy, and big as a sail. Speaking of which, I designed an ad promoting the summer range a few months back, playing with scale and proportion. It had a parasol stuck in some funky summer glasses. The tagline read "who said parasols were just for girly drinks?" It almost flew, but got pulled at the last minute in favour of another more conservative ad concept that I pulled together. Too bad. I would have liked to see the public response to the girly drinks ad.

work rant no. 10573

Yes, I'll admit it. I'm a little bit of a workaholic.

Most days, I just get carried away with what I'm doing that I lose track of time and don't end up going home until way everyone else in the office has gone home. Lately, because of the multitude of things that I've been working on surrounding the launch of our new catalogue, getting ready to leave on a month-long project off-site, plus training someone to take on the reins while I'm gone, I've been putting in noticably more hours of overtime.

My manager spoke with me briefly this afternoon about it. Apparently the capital M capital G Management Group has gotten wind of it and is concerned about "this issue"...about my whole work-life balance thing a little, but mostly about the amount of money it's costing the company to pay me time-and-a-half when I go beyond my required forty hours a week. Everytime this comes up, they try to make it seem like they're genuinely looking out for my well-being ("We care about you and want you to have a healthy balance between your work life and your personal life"), which, I guess they do, to a certain extent. However, I can't help but feel that it's really all about the latter ("This is costing us way too much money! Money that we don't have to spend!")

Each time, my response is the same: I'm expected to perform at a certain level and carry out certain responsibilities. If they want me to scale back, that just means they won't be getting as much out of me as they expect. As it is, I don't even declare all the hours that I work. In fact, if they were to do an actual analysis, they'd find that I'm pretty much cheap labour.

These days, my job description has been extended to a point where I'm responsible for regional advertising and a small handful of national projects on top of my daily responsibilities (largely my own doing - or undoing, as the case may be). I'm not complaining though. These are the parts of my job that I actually enjoy. But now that I've taken these things on, it's become expected that I'm to carry out the job of two (or more) people at any given time without any discussion of additional compensation. There simply isn't room for it, apparently. Well, in that case, don't rag on me for having to pay me overtime! Would they rather pay an external ad agency heaps and heaps of cash to do the creative for the ads and media kits that we churn out (like they do out east), or can they just shut up and pay me my comparitively measly little salary without any griping or nagging?

Days like this, I want to slash my wrists and pour toxic substances into the gaping wounds. But then I remember how much of a wuss I am and decide that I probably wouldn't be able to go through with it anyway, so just shrug my shoulders and say, "to hell with it."

A potential employer is calling me from Sweden tomorrow. Maybe she'll take pity on me and offer me a job. Or at least send me a nice bottle of Vodka to ease my pain? Toes and fingers crossed.

to hug or not to hug

I'd never really given much thought to whether or not I'm a "hugger" or not. You know, those people that hug at every concievable opportunity. My sister is a hugger. She hugs to say hello, hugs to say goodbye, hugs to comfort and to be comforted, hugs because she's happy, or hugs just because. I, on the other hand, am more of what you would call a sporadic hugger. I hug when I feel like it, which can be often or rarely, depending on what kind of mood I'm in that particular day.

Today, my friend Joanne, along with her freinds Micah and Michelle, came to visit me at work and joined me for lunch. As they were leaving, I gave Joanne a big old "thanks for visiting - see you again soon" hug, gave Michelle an "it was nice meeting you - have a safe trip home" hug, and then extended my hand out to Micah to give him an "it was good seeing you again - take care" handshake. I didn't think much of it while it was happening; it was a pretty automatic switch from hugging to handshaking. But after a nervous giggle, we laughed at the elementary logic behind girls getting hugs and boys getting handshakes.

I guess I've just been conditioned to think of hugs as gestures reserved to give to women and young children, and handshakes as the gender appropriate gesture between two men. But today's encounter got me thinking, why shouldn't men hug? We're all big softies that need love, right? I know, I know, there are certain instances where handshakes would be the more appropriate gesture, but I guess what I'm just questioning the existence of 'gender-appropriate" greetings. A salutation is a salutaion.

Terry and I get bugged at work all the time for speaking in our "deep, manly voices" when we're speaking with each other or with other guys, and then speaking in our regular tone of voice with women. I guess its an ingrained need to assert our masculinity or something - kinda like the handshake vs. hugging thing. Perhaps it is partly due to how the male brain is wired and partly to how we're conditioned as children. I have to admit, I wasn't consciously aware of it until it was pointed out to us. Now we just joke about it and then resort to grunting everytime it happens.

So, get out there and hug someone! In fact, hug the next person you come across - man or woman. Unless, of course, they look threatening and give the impression that they would cause you physical harm should you surprise them and invade their personal space with an unexpected show of affection. In that scenario, the appropriate response is giving a polite nod, followed quickly by averting your eyes to your shoes. Then as soon, as you are out of sight range, run for dear life!

the great domestic showdown

Went on a berry-picking outing today as part of a family-togetherness thing. Armed with ice cream pails and flat boxes, mom, dad, Grace & boyfriend, and I hopped into the van and headed further into rural suburbia for our little expedition. One the way, we spotted the main street where they film Smallville, which elicited squeals of excitement from both my sister and myself even though neither of us has watched the show since last season's finale.

The day was sunny and warm, but the heat was offset with the occasional cool breeze. The sun ripened berries were deliciuosly sweet, and savouring the juiciness of the fruit while we picked was the perfect way to spend the morning and a bit of the afternoon. After filling two bucketfulls of raspberries, I decided to move to the strawberry patch and see what I could harvest.

Because strawberries grow low to the ground, it proved to be much more back-breaking than picking in the raspberry fields. Discovering the plump crimson berries hiding under the broad leaves while kneeling on the soft earth was much more satisfying though because it made me feel somewhat closer to nature. It reminded me of the scenes from David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars where Katsue spends her summers picking berries while Ishmael looks on, infatuated by her beauty. It also brought back memories of a day trip I took with Lydia last summer to a winery/vineyard/orchard/berry farm in the St. Catherine's/Niagara Wine Region.

Anyway, we got a little carried away and picked probably more than we needed: 27 lbs of raspberries and 29 lbs of strawberries! Sixty-seven dollars and plenty of berry-stained fingers later, we wheeled our pickings back to the van, exhausted but satisfied.

The rest of the afternoon was spent washing the raspberries and blueberries for freezing, hulling the strawberries, and making jam. After everything was sealed in mason jars, I set out to make dinner for the jam-making crew. Turned out to be a more elaborate meal than I had planned, but scrumptious nonetheless. This was the menu:

Breadsticks served with slow roasted garlic cloves

Tossed romaine & jicama salad sprinkled with blueberries, raspberries, pinenuts, and crunchy roasted onion flakes. Sesame vinaigrette

Miso marinated barbecue porkchops with a raspberry & red wine reduction

Garlic & parmesan mashed potatoes

Mission Hill Riesling

Vanilla ice cream with fresh strawberries

Go ahead, send Martha to jail. I'll take over while she's busy.


make fire. cook meat.
I had a little bit of difficulty igniting the barbecue because it had been sitting in the shed since we put it away last summer. Being the impatient little bugger that I am, I decided to toss a lit match into the coals to see if I could speed the proccess along. I wasn't prepared for the resulting burst of flame.

Lesson #1: matches + propane = big whoosh of flames.
Lesson #2: Hair is easily singed if placed in close proximity to open flame.

After recovering from the initial shock and picking myself up from falling backwards, i quickly put out the little fire happening on my head, checked to see if my eyebrows were still somewhat in tact, and then went up to take a shower to get rid of the nasty smell of incinerated hair which was still lingering. I later discovered that this was attributed to the burnt hair in my nostrils.

*sigh*

Lessons learned.

the sound of music

I went on a little CD shopping spree today. Whee! Picked up an exciting mix of new releases and am still making my way through them, but enjoying the auditory joyride thus far.

Katie Melua - Call Off The Search
Yum! Reminds me of a much more playful Norah Jones on guitar. Not bubble-gum playful, mind you, but tasty nonetheless. Mockingbird Song brings me back to my childhood - a little gift of nostalgia wrapped in a pretty package from Katie.

I first heard of her when Terry told me about the last-minute duet that she sang with Jamie Cullum on the Brit Awards. Now I'm kicking myself for not catching it!

De-Lovely - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
Essentially a Cole Porter songbook, performed by a handful of contemporary artists, Robbie Williams, King of British Pop, sings the title track with ease and style. (He really needs to do a follow-up album to Swing While You're Winning) Followed by Alanis Morissette, Sheryl Crowe, Elvis Costello, Diana Krall, Natalie Cole, to name a few, this is a swingin'-good-times collection of some of Porter's best. I'm looking forward to the movie's release!

Matt Dusk - Two Shots
This guy is a local boy, who apparently attended St. Mikes, so I had to support him and pick up a copy of his CD. As the story goes, the title track was originally written by Bono for Old Blue Eyes, but hasn't been recorded until now. It's the highlight of the album, and as such, the Hot Nugget Remix is included as the bonus track.

This collection of songs is much more mellow than that of the other local boy, but it's good for nights when you need to unwind on the sofa in the dark, with a glass of red wine in hand.

I briefly entertained thoughts of seeing him in concert tonight at the Jazz Festival, but I'm simply too lazy to drag my butt off this chair and drive anywhere for an hour.

Bebel Gilberto - Bebel Gilberto
When I close my eyes, I find myself transported to the beaches of Brazil with the sound of the surf and bossa nova rhythms. Makes me want to dive into the pool and enjoy the sound of Bebel singing to me from the deck. Tanto Tempo was a tough act to follow, but I think she may have done it.

Thievery Corporation - The Outernational Sound
Haven't made my way to this CD yet, but if this album is anything like their last effort, The Richest Man in Babylon, Eric Hilton and Rob Garza are sure to please with this latest feast for the ears that promises to combine bossa nova, rock, afro-beat, latin, easy listening, Indian, soul and reggae in an all new DJ session.

jazz-ma-taz

An evening of live jazz at a New Orleans-style Creole eatery with friends. Savouring a deliciously flavoured bowl of seafood jambalaya, served with green rice. Conversation over the flicker of candlelight and sipping a cold drink with the cool evening air breezing past... What could be more perfect?

How about a light lunch by the water, munching on a smoked salmon sandwich? An afternoon stroll around the island, browsing the market shops, admiring the beautiful towers of berries, and running my fingers across delightful paper treasures from around the world, while enjoying some toe-tapping open-air music.

Yup, I did both today. I love this city!

Happy Birthday, Canada! Have some cake. Blow out your candles. Do something adventurous that scares you a little. Enjoy!