a fine day out

There is a lovely little touristy town not far away that offers up the Shaw Festival. A friend I wander down that way twice a year for a play - once in the spring and again in the fall.



It is a day full of rituals that never seem to tire.
We grab a coffee for the drive into Niagara-on-the-Lake because the wonderful bakery we always stop at serves exquisite pies but crap coffee.
She pays for the parking and I pay for the pies (which co-incidentally will likely come to almost the same price!)
When we start to see the signs for the various wineries one of us will say: we must spend a day and do a wine tour.

In eight years we have never done a wine tour.
The shame of it all.

After pie we feel a need to walk a bit and head for our favourite antique place. Going to an antique place right after an auction is never a good plan. Still, there was something a bit ... spiritless this time. The barn seemed smaller and was certainly almost empty, but here was nothing that caused either of us to seek out the other and grab her arm and drag her over to see something wonderful that we would never buy. We will need to replace this part of the tradition, I think.

The weather people had promised lots of rain with some thunder and lightning thrown in for added drama, but when we got on the highway, the car said it was 25C and it was humid enough to require the A/C, it was windy with blue sky and lots of white puffy clouds skating across it.

We decided to save the walk on the waterfront trail until after the play due to the humidity and instead spent a few minutes window shopping (I later had to go back and purchase those earrings I saw in the window even if they were at inflated NOTL prices).


Apparently we missed the massive rainfall and dramatic thunderstorm while sitting comfortably inside the theatre.

Because that seems to be the other ritual: it always rains when we go to NOTL.

When we came out of the theatre, the streets were wet, the grass was glistening. There were deep puddles everywhere. We decided against going for a walk along the water afterall, though I had to make a quick stop to take more photos of the sky.

And found these entertaining guys.
(click on the image for full effect - for some reason it gets very big!)

You can see the transistion to looking like a real Canada Goose.

They are so funny at this awkward stage.

Probably the only teenagers in town that afternoon!

Later, we have dinner at our favourite restaurant that is near a shipwreck. I would have taken photos for you, but as soon as we got off the highway, the skies opened up for a brief but intense downpour. By the time we were seated, it had cleared up again and we ate our meal while watching the gulls soaring over the waves of the lake.

I was waiting for my friend at the bar as we were leaving, watching the television screen with the soccer match repeat and chatting to a fellow once-every-four-years-fan. In the course of our chat, his wife accidentally let slip the final score. Poor thing, she must have apologized 15 times, but really I wasn't bothered. Though when I got home and turned on the tv for the news and caught the last 10 minutes, I admit to feeling a teeny bit of smugness knowing the outcome while listening to the announcer getting all excited and unbelieving about the prospect that Switzerland - Switzerland! - might win this match.

Monday AMuse

Continuing our butt theme....
Who ever thought these were cute?
This is rather a disturbing trend in cake decorating.

Makes you wonder what happened to the rest of the baby?
Or why someone has this tyke half buried.

the above I chose in honour of wee Callum (the newest member of our small family)
and below is in honour of all the people (including my niece who was married last weekend) who are visiting Paris this year (it definitely seems to be the destination of choice!)

apparently the Eiffel Tower is pure sugar!

and what does black icing taste like, I wonder?

photos from CakeWrecks.com

end zone

My work schedule has been rearranged. The snacks and beer have been bought. Remember when I got my new tv, the slim version? Well, I realize one other advantage to having a flat screen with no big ass back end is being able to bring it outside. I can set it up on the balcony and not lose any of the beautiful weather while I watch SOCCER for the next month.

I still haven't decided which team to support (since we are not in it, quel surprise!), but I see that as an advantage: since I don't really care who wins, no matter what, I should be happy!

Now, I realize a good number of you don't give a rat's ass about this event...

so, I'll leave you with these amusing asses just so you don't think you've wasted your time reading this post.

I've got you covered

gutted

After 30 years of neglect, they were in poor condition. After expropriation, things only got worse for this three block stretch of 41 buildings, some dating back 170 years. Today just before noon, the demolition crew was out with the crane to begin tearing down (1) what is considered the longest stretch of pre-Confederate buildings in Ontario. (2)



No-one bothered to get a historical designation on any of them.
There is no plan for the land once the buildings are gone.


By now, many of the residents are likely fed up with the decay. The stench. The undesirables who inhabited the buildings while they could. The division in the local government.

It was inevitable.

Why it became inevitable is the saddest part of all.

Take pride in what you have.

If you are a city with history, please don't erase it because you couldn't be bothered to take care of the historical structures.


And don't let the vultures in.

(1) photos of the first demolition
(2) a historical list of the buildings on the street

gussy up

I was at a wedding over the weekend. I don't get to many weddings. The rush of nuptials amongst my friends all ended in the 80s and now we wait for their children to make it to the altar. (and they are taking their sweet time about it!)

The last wedding I attended was 2 years ago in England. It was a rather formal affair. The groom was in his newly hard earned Marine full dress uniform, his best man in a kilt. I was one of only two female family members not wearing a hat. (And I was okay with that, since hats do not suit me at all.)

It has not gone unnoticed that people over on this side of the pond tend to dress much more casually for any event. There was a time when I had Sunday best clothes and office suits. Since I no longer work in an office and don't attend church, I have little use for those Sunday best clothes. For our family dinners, we all wear clean clothes, mostly of a semi casual type. My brother now owns a tux from a formal wear shop that is going out of business, so maybe we'll have to have at least one cocktail party a year for his tux to have an outing.

My niece loves to dress up. A particular favourite era for her is 50s attire, so she looked perfectly natural in her ivory pink wedding gown with a strand of pearls. Her partner, who does not like to dress up, looked very elegant in a black suit with pink tie and shirt.

It was a garden wedding, held late morning. Still, on looking at the gathering, a friend and I cattily critiqued the attire of some of the attendees. There were suits with running shoes - even in the wedding party, albeit fancy pink shoes to go with the theme of pink and white. There were some who were almost unrecognizable in their crisp shirts and ties and cufflinks. There were some people who looked like they made no effort to look in their closet for something just a little special for a special event. A particularly galling example was one family member who wore cargo shorts! Interestingly, he, among others, went to a much greater effort for the evening dance reception held at a restaurant.

Really, would it kill you to wear some well fitted clothes that bring out the best of your figure, that shows you have a little style and that you care enough about the people you are with to make an effort to look pleasing to the eye??

Even Gus didn't make a fuss when this get up was foisted on him!

sleeping dangerously

Where I live there is a creek running in the back and a lake across the road. So it is not unusual to see the odd duck or two (mallards) or several Canada Geese roaming around.

Meet Chris.

Chris has lived here for several years. I have no idea whether Chris is a male goose or a female goose - how does one tell? Canada Geese mate for life and there used to be two of them we would see often down by the creek. Then a few years ago, the other goose appeared to be limping badly. A few of us would keep our eye out for it and someone did call an animal rescue service, but eventually Chris's mate disappeared forever. But for at least 5 or 6 years Chris still comes round. All alone.

Oh, occasionally there is a squabble between three geese, but this is obviously Chris's turf and they are sent away whenever he is around.

Have you ever wondered where geese and ducks sleep?

Chris seems to prefer the pavement.

And once settled, he.will.not.move.

One day, I found him in my parking spot. Luckily, it was during the day and there were few other cars around so it wasn't too hard to get around him and back into my space.

Many's the night I have found him, sleeping in the middle of the road or at the end of a driveway. It's a bit nervewracking, worrying about running into him.

I've often wondered why he likes this dangerous corner.
Perhaps he remembers where he last saw his beloved.
Maybe he feels closer to her and has fond memories of their time, grazing and paddling the creek together.

After seeing him almost every night for most of the last month or so, I haven't seen him (or her?) for three nights.

I'm getting worried.

spider legs

I will admit to not being a fan of either real or sculptural arachnids.

And I am not sure I can say I enjoy the work of Louise Bourgeois whose pieces tend to be rather disturbing and intense. But I certainly admire the artist who has endured and was still creating well into her 90s when she died of a heart attack (at age 98). She wasn't recognized much for her work until she was in her 60s, but graciously stated that "being ignored in the 1950s and 1960s was a bit of a blessing in disguise as it allowed [her] to work undisturbed".

She sees the spider image as a protector - well, okay, they do eat mosquitos which we all agree we want to be rid of - and as a mother figure (see the eggs?) She created these huge creatures as an homage to her own mother who created tapestries and, like a spider, was a weaver.

It is a shame that, so often is the case, we do not know much about artists until obituaries and retrospectives of their work appear when they die. I would never have heard of her except I hated (and yet was fascinated by) that damn spider outside the National Gallery and looked up the artist. Yet, as much as I cannot feel any love for this massive metal sculpture that you are forced to endure as you enter the gallery, I admire its structure. I admire its immense size. I admire the symbolism Ms Bourgeois draws out of the spider - as the protector, the creator of webs, just like drawing (just like Charlotte, the only good spider I can think of).

And that, until her heart attack last week, she was still working on her creations. This site includes a very good collection of her art.

SundayStills - logos

This week's theme is corporate logos.
Signage is another thing I love to capture for posterity.
And I was pleased to have gotten this beauty (which may only be meaningful to fellow Canadians) before it was changed to the new boring name of 'metro'.

Dominion grocery store

Here we have the Redpath sugar refinery (with a LCBO - Liquor Control Board of Ontario sign also included). This area is under massive redevelopment at the moment, which is an exciting change to a wasteland on the waterfront.
Redpath Sugar and Liquor Store

Then there is the iconic Hudson's Bay department store logo - Canada's first department store - conveniently truncated to simply "the Bay"

Hudson's Bay
And another iconic logo....

'crappy tire', er 'Canadian Tire'
"more than just tires" this store is an automotive centre, hardware, kitchen ware, home decor, sports store with a garden centre in the summer

.
But my all time favourite - for nostalgia reasons, perhaps - is this particular logo.

It belongs to a car dealership.

The 'girl on a swing' has swung in the east end of Toronto for
decades. When the area where the sign was located was slated for development, there was a huge outcry when the sign was thought to be outdated and to be removed forever. It was eventually moved further down the street and sits on the actual lot of Willison.

When I was young, I got excited when we drove past her, wishing for a red light so we could sit a moment and watch her swinging. There was a time when she wore a bikini in the summer, but I haven't seen that particular outfit lately.

Above is her winter outfit, and below is a fetching red number for spring.
(I also remember the top bit of the tree changing with the seasons, but it seems to stay constant in these days of restraint)

Isn't she a fun taste of the 50's?

more logos at SundayStills

woman in pink

There were only two of us in the gym, on an afternoon during +3oC temperatures.

I have decided that my new regimen will include spending a certain amount of time every day using the treadmill or elliptical, especially since walking in this heat just drains me of the will to live move.

I settled onto the more taxing of the machines with my water bottle and a newspaper section. Because the only way I can manage the elliptical is to be distracted from the fact that I am on an elliptical. I politely say hello to the woman in pink on the machine far off to my right. She is watching the television with subtitles for All My Children. I ask if I am blocking her view, because if I was I would gladly have used that excuse to move to the easier machine. But, no, she was fine. I notice that she is standing tall and elegant and I want to emulate this instead of gripping the bar for dear life.

I spend a fair bit of time programming the machine, organizing my water bottle on the little shelf and holding my newspaper as I pedal. I stare out the window, I read for a bit, I glance at the television, I read a bit more. I wipe off the sweat that is pouring down my forehead. I slow for a drink, but the water bottle is one of those with a wide mouth, and I have not slowed enough so it sploshes on my t-shirt. I check the time. 4 minutes. I realize I am panting. I furiously read a book review about a book I will never read by an author I have never heard of. Keep moving.

I decide I need a towel at the 6 minute mark and as I get off the machine I glance at the woman in pink. She is steadily doing what you do on her elliptical machine. Very fast. She has long, straight blonde hair. Not a strand seemed to be frizzed. I see no beads of perspiration. I am fascinated.

My hair is uncomfortably damp. My face, I know, is flushed (one reason I NEVER wear pink when I exercise). Keep moving. My legs are shaking, but to slow down is actually more difficult so I keep pedalling. I stop to drink some water. And rest. I cannot keep moving. It has been 16 minutes. Oh wait, plus the original 6 minutes. Yay, I actually went over the 20 minute level! I smile in pride. I wipe the sweat from my brow, my arms, my chest, my neck, my head... I try to stand upright as get off the machine. I try to breathe more slowly and less obviously. The woman in pink is still steadily pedalling. I feel a bit intimidated.

I move to the treadmill...

I move to the steam bath...

I move to the shower....

As I am drying my hair, the woman in pink comes into the change room. Still no beads of sweat, no frizzy hair. Still standing tall and elegant. She changes into street clothes and leaves, looking for all the world refreshed. I wonder if she was an illusion.

I think about another woman in pink, Pinklea.

She may or may not be an illusion, but she has bestowed upon me an award, so I like to think she must be real. And she lives in Vancouver where I hope to visit again some day....

A Prolific Blogger Award.

I'm not always particularly prolific, but now I have a responsibility to try harder.

And, of course, there are rules.

A Prolific Blogger must link back to the person who awarded them. That would be Pinklea. Done.

A Prolific Blogger must link to the original blog where the award is explained and add your blogname to Mr Linky so everyone else can read your prolificness. Done. I am #347.

Then, a Prolific Blogger must pass this award on to 7 other Prolific Bloggers.

Hmm. Well, if you think you are a prolific blogger and would like this award, it is yours. Take from me with my blessing. And keep blogging. Keep moving. And stand tall and elegant. And proud of your accomplishment.

Thank you Pinklea!

Monday AMuse

Today is May two-four.

Victoria Day.

A holiday in these parts. And for once, the holiday celebrating Queen Victoria's birthday actually falls on her birthday.

She would be 191 years old this year. She reigned for 63 years, 216 days.

This weekend is the unofficial beginning of summer, the weekend for planting your garden, the traditional opening of the cottage, the beginning of blackfly season.

It is celebrated often by the drinking of a traditional case of 24 beer. The beer store sales rise by about 20% this weekend. Thus, the play on words (in Eastern Canada, at least) of May two-four.

When I was young, the nickname for the holiday was Firecracker Day. That term has gone by the wayside now that backyard fireworks have been banned. And it is no longer the only day of the year for fireworks.

Drink Responsibly and Enjoy the Day