I'm eating a dark chocolate Godiva pearl. And thinking of movies.
I was complimented today on my movie memory. But that's it, as I pointed out; I only really remember things about subjects I'm passionate about. Everything else... meh.
You probably remember Nicholas Hoult: he was Marcus, the endearingly quirky adolescent in 2002's About a Boy, in which he shows up on Hugh Grant's doorstep and refuses to be cast aside. (About Hugh Grant, I don't know about you, but I much prefer him in slightly caddish roles; he's just more interesting in them). About a Boy also featured my secret girlfriend, Rachel Weisz.
Anyway, Hoult has grown into his eyebrows and lost the puppy fact. Chris Weitz, who co-wrote About a Boy (based on Nick Hornby's novel), produced A Single Man, in which Hoult plays a plays a mohair-sweater-wearing beautiful youth who turns up on Colin Firth's doorstep and refuses to be cast aside. Well this I understand, as Colin Firth is one of my favourite secret boyfriends.
In A Single Man Nicholas Hoult does a great American accent, as does Matthew Goode (who was compelling and strange in last year's Watchmen.) Going the other way, Julianne Moore did a surprisingly bad English accent, but she was wonderful - as usual - in every other respect.
And yes, that is Jon Hamm, uncredited, as the voice of Hank Ackerley on the telephone. And yes, that's Tom Ford, Mr. Fashion, as director and financier of the film, which was based on a novel by Christopher Isherwood.
Colin Firth gave a magnificent performance. For me, in second place, is his house. That was built in 1949, was designed by John Lautner and resides just a short distance from Los Angeles. It's stunning, compact, and worth the price of admission alone. An architectural tour of California is on my to-do list.
A Single Man might be on your to-do list. Ooh, saucy pun. Nice.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
When All Else Fails...
... bake.
That's how I counteract stress, which has me in its limpet grip.
Cookies were baked (see them in their jar?). And how could baking not be fun with these cheery new bowls, as gorgeous and fun as my friend Barbara, who gave them to me.
That's how I counteract stress, which has me in its limpet grip.
Cookies were baked (see them in their jar?). And how could baking not be fun with these cheery new bowls, as gorgeous and fun as my friend Barbara, who gave them to me.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Cake Time
I thought that title might attract attention.
Long time readers will know that once a year, my friend L and I tackle a big William Morris (or an associate)-inspired cake project. Here are a few from the past, with the inspiration on the top row, the finished cakes in the middle, and a detail of each cake on the bottom.
Here was 2008's.
Last year I took a break from blogging, so never got around to showing the cake we made. Here it is, a big slab of a book:
Long time readers will know that once a year, my friend L and I tackle a big William Morris (or an associate)-inspired cake project. Here are a few from the past, with the inspiration on the top row, the finished cakes in the middle, and a detail of each cake on the bottom.
Here was 2008's.
Last year I took a break from blogging, so never got around to showing the cake we made. Here it is, a big slab of a book:
Today we pondered the next cake, due in about six weeks. We discussed how this cake never happens at a good time of year for either of us, but - as it happens - this year's timing looks good for me and I might be able to take some vacation the week of, and so I think we're in good shape to do something interesting. We're both very taken with 2008's tiled cake. We might do something similar but in very different colours.
Stay tuned, cake lovers.
Stay tuned, cake lovers.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Quote of the Day
"And one by one the nights between our separated cities
are joined to the night that unites us."
Pablo Neruda
are joined to the night that unites us."
Pablo Neruda
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Song of the Day
The Nightingale
(Badalamenti / Lynch)
The nightingale
It said to me
There is a love
Meant for me
The nightingale
It flew to me
And told me
That it found my love.
He said one day
I’ll meet you
Our hearts will fly
With the nightingale.
The nightingale
He told me
One day
You will be with me.
The nightingale
Said he knew
That your love
Would find my love one day
My heart flies
With the nightingale
Through the night
All across the world.
I long to see you
To touch you
To love you
Forever more.
From the television series Twin Peaks, sung by Julee Cruise. One of my favourite songs... ever.
(Badalamenti / Lynch)
The nightingale
It said to me
There is a love
Meant for me
The nightingale
It flew to me
And told me
That it found my love.
He said one day
I’ll meet you
Our hearts will fly
With the nightingale.
The nightingale
He told me
One day
You will be with me.
The nightingale
Said he knew
That your love
Would find my love one day
My heart flies
With the nightingale
Through the night
All across the world.
I long to see you
To touch you
To love you
Forever more.
From the television series Twin Peaks, sung by Julee Cruise. One of my favourite songs... ever.
I Like it Sparkly
I was walking home from work, laden down with groceries. (I wish soy milk didn't weigh so much and I didn't consume so much of it.)
It began snowing, and it was beautiful. I wish I could have taken pictures that did justice to the myriad of soft diamonds falling on and around me. Captivated, I shrugged off my bags and took a photograph. Here's a stretch of soft, twinkly pavement.
It began snowing, and it was beautiful. I wish I could have taken pictures that did justice to the myriad of soft diamonds falling on and around me. Captivated, I shrugged off my bags and took a photograph. Here's a stretch of soft, twinkly pavement.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
A Few Montreal Pictures
A park across from my friend's home.
Old Montreal, whose cobbled streets are lined by fine old buildings, mostly doing tacky tourist business.
"Les chuchoteuses" ("The Gossipers"), a sculpture by Rose-Aimée Bélanger on rue Saint-Paul.
The Museum of Fine Art.
Bruce!
A tree laden with twinkly lights, and a half moon over Mont-Royal.
Old Montreal, whose cobbled streets are lined by fine old buildings, mostly doing tacky tourist business.
"Les chuchoteuses" ("The Gossipers"), a sculpture by Rose-Aimée Bélanger on rue Saint-Paul.
The Museum of Fine Art.
Bruce!
A tree laden with twinkly lights, and a half moon over Mont-Royal.
On a bitterly cold night...
Great food.
The rabbit/prune pâté and saucisson made a delicious picnic lunch.
The ubiquitous bagels. Slightly sweet, and Heaven with smoked salmon and cream cheese.
Lunch at Olive et Gourmando:
Wha~?!
The man didn't think I could handle the 75% cocao content hot choc, which, as he said, tasted much darker. I got it, to go. Delicious. Heh heh.
Great food.
The rabbit/prune pâté and saucisson made a delicious picnic lunch.
The ubiquitous bagels. Slightly sweet, and Heaven with smoked salmon and cream cheese.
Lunch at Olive et Gourmando:
Wha~?!
The man didn't think I could handle the 75% cocao content hot choc, which, as he said, tasted much darker. I got it, to go. Delicious. Heh heh.
Three Train Pictures
It a belief of mine that you meet the most interesting people when travelling alone, especially by train. This time it was a very well-spoken chemical engineering student who plays jazz sax and speaks Russian. He took Bruce in his stride too. Train travellers rule!
I'm using this next photograph as part of an art project.
Dawn from the train.
I'm using this next photograph as part of an art project.
Dawn from the train.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Art + Music = Enchantment
I've been meaning to blog about my Montreal trip all week, particularly the Montreal Museum of Fine Art's J. W. Waterhouse exhibit, which was the main reason for my visit.
The Tate Gallery's Lady of Shalott (1888) is apparently their best selling postcard.
The Art Gallery of Ontario's "I am half-sick of shadows" said the Lady of Shalott (1915) is one I know well.
This exhibition of paintings, titled "Garden of Enchantment" stands out as one of the finest I've ever experienced. The exhibition wasn't crowded, although it filled up a bit more later in the afternoon when some guided tours were in attendance. The Museum is so well run, with such excellent service, and, at the end of my time there, instead of ending up feeling quite exhausted, as often happens with me at galleries or museums, I found myself feeling still invigorated.
All the rooms in the exhibit were painted a matte black, quite daring for an art gallery in my experience. The rooms were dimly lit, with lights focused just on Waterhouse's jewel-like paintings, enhancing the luminous skin of his many female subjects; there are very few men in Waterhouse's paintings. One biological oddity: some of the ladies have excessively long thigh bones. The informative text on the walls was written in white, with the headlines in a glossy black, which created a stunning effect. Any furniture or ornamentation in the rooms were minimal and were also treated completely in a matte black paint: benches, chairs, fern-filled urns, an easel, a table with a vase of roses and two entrance ways adorned with climbing roses; every bit of it painted matte black. One room, which housed two of Waterhouse's paintings that dealt with the occult (such a fascination for that time in Victorian England), was entered and exited through heavy black velvet curtains. It took me a few moments to recognize that the bench I sat on, as I listened and watched, was shaped in a hexagon. It was all very subtlely and superbly done.
I rented a headset which played music selected for the exhibit by the dashing Kent Nagano, now music director of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. On entering the first room, I was invited by a woman's voice to play the first piece as an introduction, and as a match for Waterhouse's Cleopatra. Dame Janet Baker sang Berlioz's The Death of Cleopatra, with Alexander Gibson conducting the London Symphony Orchestra. At about 20 minutes in length, it lulled me into a delicious state of dreaminess as I perused the first room and pushed the outside world far away. The second piece of music was for the three Ladies of Shalott. The music was Fauré's Sicilienne from his Pelléas et Mélisande suite. In a room of paintings that featured water in them, a soft rushing of waves was barely discernible, and a play of light on the floor, with reflections of water, was enchanting. The music I listened to on the headset here was Debussy's La Mer, the 2nd and 3rd movements, with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, conducted by their former music director, Charles Dutoit. The same artists performed the next track, Debussy's Prelude to The Afternoon of a Faun, which accompanied an enchanted garden room. The final piece, as I approached Waterhouse's Tristan and Isolde Sharing the Potion was Wagner's Prelude to Tristan und Isolde with the Dresden Staatskapelle conducted by Carlos Kleiber.
Back to the Shalott paintings, all three of which were gathered together for the first time. Do you know the Loreena McKennit song version? It's one of my favourites. The entire Tennyson poem was one one wall, in english and french. Here are the two versions of the those last lines.
But Lancelot mused a little space;
I rented a headset which played music selected for the exhibit by the dashing Kent Nagano, now music director of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. On entering the first room, I was invited by a woman's voice to play the first piece as an introduction, and as a match for Waterhouse's Cleopatra. Dame Janet Baker sang Berlioz's The Death of Cleopatra, with Alexander Gibson conducting the London Symphony Orchestra. At about 20 minutes in length, it lulled me into a delicious state of dreaminess as I perused the first room and pushed the outside world far away. The second piece of music was for the three Ladies of Shalott. The music was Fauré's Sicilienne from his Pelléas et Mélisande suite. In a room of paintings that featured water in them, a soft rushing of waves was barely discernible, and a play of light on the floor, with reflections of water, was enchanting. The music I listened to on the headset here was Debussy's La Mer, the 2nd and 3rd movements, with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, conducted by their former music director, Charles Dutoit. The same artists performed the next track, Debussy's Prelude to The Afternoon of a Faun, which accompanied an enchanted garden room. The final piece, as I approached Waterhouse's Tristan and Isolde Sharing the Potion was Wagner's Prelude to Tristan und Isolde with the Dresden Staatskapelle conducted by Carlos Kleiber.
Back to the Shalott paintings, all three of which were gathered together for the first time. Do you know the Loreena McKennit song version? It's one of my favourites. The entire Tennyson poem was one one wall, in english and french. Here are the two versions of the those last lines.
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said "She has a lovely face;
God in His mercy lend her grace,
God in His mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Mais Lancelot, lui, s'attarde un moment;
Mais Lancelot, lui, s'attarde un moment;
Il dit: "Elle a un visage charmant!
Dans sa pitié, que Dieu lui soit clément
Dans sa pitié, que Dieu lui soit clément
A cette Dame d'Escalot."
(The french translation was by Claude Dandréa.)
The Tate Gallery's Lady of Shalott (1888) is apparently their best selling postcard.
The Art Gallery of Ontario's "I am half-sick of shadows" said the Lady of Shalott (1915) is one I know well.
But this was the one who appealed to me the most directly. This Lady of Shalott is from 1894 and now resides in the Leeds Art Gallery. This picture depicts the very moment that she turns from the mirror and beholds Lancelot directly. You see the crack in the mirror, Lancelot reflected in it, her threads entrapping her, and a look of such intensity on her face. This face haunts me still. She might have been based on a single model, or an amalgam, I'm not sure, but she has strange eyes, and a riveting look. She's not perfectly beautiful, but she's fascinating.
All in all, I spent five hours in the exhibit, as I went through it twice. I had a few favourites, but the title of this one, Dolce far Niente (It's Sweet Doing Nothing), and its subject, appealed to me greatly, as an idler and follower of Tom Hodgkinson, my personal hero. The painting, from 1880, lives in Kirkcaldy Museum and Art Gallery.
Here are some more favourites, shamelessly borrowed from this site:
Mariamne (1887, part of the Forbe's Magazine Collection) was Waterhouse's largest work, at about 70" wide and 100" tall. In reality it was awe-inspiring. You could see the tones of her skin through her dress. Stunningly sensual and one of Waterhouse's most powerful women, among so many.
In Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus the blue of dress of the nymph on the left was one I couldn't take my eyes off. These two sweet girls have just espied the severed head of Orpheus, floating (and still singing) its way down the river.
Finally, a lovely man! I've used this before on my blog, Tristan and Isolde Sharing the Potion (1916, in a private collection). Don't drink it you crazy kids!
This beautiful painting portrayed the tragic tale of St. Eulalia (1885, at the Tate Gallery), martyred at the age of 12 for being a Christian. It left out some of the more gruesome aspects of her death, but was still very powerful.
There were many, many more paintings and studies to enjoy. The exhibition runs till February 7. As I've said before, if you can, get there. It's worth the trip to Montreal.
All in all, I spent five hours in the exhibit, as I went through it twice. I had a few favourites, but the title of this one, Dolce far Niente (It's Sweet Doing Nothing), and its subject, appealed to me greatly, as an idler and follower of Tom Hodgkinson, my personal hero. The painting, from 1880, lives in Kirkcaldy Museum and Art Gallery.
Here are some more favourites, shamelessly borrowed from this site:
Mariamne (1887, part of the Forbe's Magazine Collection) was Waterhouse's largest work, at about 70" wide and 100" tall. In reality it was awe-inspiring. You could see the tones of her skin through her dress. Stunningly sensual and one of Waterhouse's most powerful women, among so many.
In Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus the blue of dress of the nymph on the left was one I couldn't take my eyes off. These two sweet girls have just espied the severed head of Orpheus, floating (and still singing) its way down the river.
Finally, a lovely man! I've used this before on my blog, Tristan and Isolde Sharing the Potion (1916, in a private collection). Don't drink it you crazy kids!
This beautiful painting portrayed the tragic tale of St. Eulalia (1885, at the Tate Gallery), martyred at the age of 12 for being a Christian. It left out some of the more gruesome aspects of her death, but was still very powerful.
There were many, many more paintings and studies to enjoy. The exhibition runs till February 7. As I've said before, if you can, get there. It's worth the trip to Montreal.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I bet the Costumes are Gorgeous
The BBC has produced a 6-part mini-series, The Desperate Romantics (2009), which tells the story of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood as depicted in the book, The Private Lives of the Pre-Raphaelites by Fanny Moyle, who also co-produced the series. I haven't heard great things about this, apparently it's best if you approach it with a light-hearted mind. Uh oh. Anyway, I'll check it out. It's starting tonight at 9pm on BBC Canada.
//UPDATE: Pretty boring, but I'll watch if I have nothing better to do.
//UPDATE: Pretty boring, but I'll watch if I have nothing better to do.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Art Chocolate Lipstick
This is the J.W. Waterhouse painting I am most familiar with, as it resides at the Art Gallery of Ontario.
"'I am half-sick of shadows' said the Lady of Shallott" is united with two other Lady of Shallott depictions at this exhibition in Montreal, which I am going to visit. If you'd like to know more, here are some enjoyable videos that go into a little more details on some of the paintings on show.
I'm ready, with this new discovery from my local Godiva's...
... highly transportable, dark chocolate morsels!!! Perfect for train travel.
I'm stocked up on "Capricious," as I should be.
A full review of the J.W. Waterhouse exhibit will be in a future post. In the meantime, if you get a chance to get to Montreal, it ends February 7. The top picture was borrowed with no permission from this wonderful site.
... highly transportable, dark chocolate morsels!!! Perfect for train travel.
I'm stocked up on "Capricious," as I should be.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Oy! Where's my Degree?
I spend a fair bit of time loitering around the University of Toronto with one event or another. This weekend I saw a musical (!) version of Nick Hornby's High Fidelity at Hart House Theatre. Unlike my feelings for the the last two shows I saw there, I really didn't like this, and have no interesting in dissecting it here. But here's a shot of one of the very attractive hallways of this renovated space, a legend in Toronto.
We walked home through a lovely archway on campus.
I attended a lecture at Trinity College...
On a kindly mild, but grey day, in Toronto... colour!
Each time I visit I love getting shots of the quadrangle though these windows.
Then a tour of Massey College, designed by Ron Thom (whose career was heavily influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright), and which opened in 1963. The request (by the Massey family) was that the college contained an enclosed quadrangle and paid homage to the colleges of Oxford.
Hello! Guess who?
Christopher Ondaatje, extremely wealthy brother of Michael, the writer.
It mixes the modern and the gothic well.
Lots of fine detail, like this floor grate:
And lots of well-crafted light fixtures.
This detail attempts to show the constellation Auriga in the middle panel at the top.
I'm not a very good photographer of buildings and I haven't done this justice, but I'm blaming that on my lack of edjimication.
Then it was comforting dim sum on Baldwin Street and a long walk home to make up for that.
We walked home through a lovely archway on campus.
I attended a lecture at Trinity College...
On a kindly mild, but grey day, in Toronto... colour!
Each time I visit I love getting shots of the quadrangle though these windows.
Then a tour of Massey College, designed by Ron Thom (whose career was heavily influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright), and which opened in 1963. The request (by the Massey family) was that the college contained an enclosed quadrangle and paid homage to the colleges of Oxford.
Hello! Guess who?
Christopher Ondaatje, extremely wealthy brother of Michael, the writer.
It mixes the modern and the gothic well.
Lots of fine detail, like this floor grate:
And lots of well-crafted light fixtures.
This detail attempts to show the constellation Auriga in the middle panel at the top.
I'm not a very good photographer of buildings and I haven't done this justice, but I'm blaming that on my lack of edjimication.
Then it was comforting dim sum on Baldwin Street and a long walk home to make up for that.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Into the Woods
Adrian (referring to sex): I can't! It's disgusting!
Andrew: How can it be disgusting? I don't even have my clothes off.
Mary Steenbergen as Adrian and Woody Allen as Andrew in A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy (1982). This is one of those films I'd heard about for years, and seen bits from on television from time to time, and it was a delight to see it finally in its entirety. It's not the greatest Woody Allen film, but in its homage to Bergman and its upper New York State, hazy summer's day setting, it's a sweet and funny escape. The acting company is impressive: Tony Roberts (of course), Julie (my favourite stewardess) Hagerty, Mia Farrow and Jose Ferrer round it out and, all looking splendid in Santo Loquasto's Edwardian costumes. The photography is beautiful and made me long to be in the woods again. Between Mia Farrow's golden halo of hair and the dappled forest glades, there are unexpected moments of almost Pre-Raphaelite beauty.
This was followed up by a true classic.
Grumpy: Angel, ha! She's a female! And all females is poison! They're full of wicked wiles!
Bashful: What are wicked wiles?
Grumpy: I don't know, but I'm agin' 'em.
Pinto Colvig as the voice of Grumpy and Scotty Mattraw as Bashful in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). It's sad that the actors behind the voices in animated movies in those days were kept under wraps. Now it's a major appeal behind the big films. The songs in Snow White are as sweet as the day I first heard them. The moment I always look for is when Snow White kisses the dove and it flies to Prince Charming to bestow the kiss. That coy, blushing bird is one of the sweetest, silliest things on film. Disney has released Snow White with newly painted borders on the sides of the picture to fill in the screen for wide-screen viewing. It's very well done and we enjoyed it on my dad's new BluRay disk.
So did Tibby, whose ears went flat during that forest scene, which gets to me too. It remains terrifying no matter how old you get!
Andrew: How can it be disgusting? I don't even have my clothes off.
Mary Steenbergen as Adrian and Woody Allen as Andrew in A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy (1982). This is one of those films I'd heard about for years, and seen bits from on television from time to time, and it was a delight to see it finally in its entirety. It's not the greatest Woody Allen film, but in its homage to Bergman and its upper New York State, hazy summer's day setting, it's a sweet and funny escape. The acting company is impressive: Tony Roberts (of course), Julie (my favourite stewardess) Hagerty, Mia Farrow and Jose Ferrer round it out and, all looking splendid in Santo Loquasto's Edwardian costumes. The photography is beautiful and made me long to be in the woods again. Between Mia Farrow's golden halo of hair and the dappled forest glades, there are unexpected moments of almost Pre-Raphaelite beauty.
This was followed up by a true classic.
Grumpy: Angel, ha! She's a female! And all females is poison! They're full of wicked wiles!
Bashful: What are wicked wiles?
Grumpy: I don't know, but I'm agin' 'em.
Pinto Colvig as the voice of Grumpy and Scotty Mattraw as Bashful in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). It's sad that the actors behind the voices in animated movies in those days were kept under wraps. Now it's a major appeal behind the big films. The songs in Snow White are as sweet as the day I first heard them. The moment I always look for is when Snow White kisses the dove and it flies to Prince Charming to bestow the kiss. That coy, blushing bird is one of the sweetest, silliest things on film. Disney has released Snow White with newly painted borders on the sides of the picture to fill in the screen for wide-screen viewing. It's very well done and we enjoyed it on my dad's new BluRay disk.
So did Tibby, whose ears went flat during that forest scene, which gets to me too. It remains terrifying no matter how old you get!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Poem of the Day
I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life (Ten)
Love, love, love, says Percy.
And run as fast as you can
along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.
Then, go to sleep.
Give up your body heat, your beating heart.
Then, trust.
by Mary Oliver from Red Bird
Love, love, love, says Percy.
And run as fast as you can
along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.
Then, go to sleep.
Give up your body heat, your beating heart.
Then, trust.
by Mary Oliver from Red Bird
BPG Thought Bubble
Our troubles of too much borrowing, too much food and too much Christmas spending all seems rather foolish in light of Haiti and the destruction pretty much of an entire nation.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Mmmm... Shiny!
Strange how after giving up my usual batch of health supplements, I feel better than ever. I find I need a break from time to time, and my energy is fantastic right now that I'm off them (including Vitamin B).
Evidence: freshly polished brass. I'm on a new year's roll baby!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I'd Rather be Laying Down
As I've been planning a short getaway next week, I've had little trouble deciding between a short plane trip and a longer train journey. It's going to be the train, as - for an idler like me - to sit for four or five hours, gazing out of a window, watching clouds and day dreaming, is pure heaven, and something I rarely indulge in. Plus, you're more likely to meet the most interesting people, including quite possibly secret agents, when you're on a train.
But if I had felt indecisive, I think the recently updated carry-on policy for Canadian flight passengers would have made the decision pretty easy. I'm more frightened of the over-paid security policy analysts that came up with this. And it just serves to remind me of how very unglamorous plane travel has become, whereas the train still has, in some instances, a real allure.
This is part of what we are allowed to carry with us:
Does the presence of wool prove the innocent intentions of the bearer of knitting needles? Are terrorists smart enough to remind their compatriots: "Hey Bob! Don't forget the wool... and while you're waiting in the check-in line, knit a few rows, that'll fool them good and proper! Hey, and use that soft, pastel baby wool!"? And anyway, as any Bond fan knows, any operative worth the trouble can kill with their hair, or their thighs.
Speaking of not flying, did you see this news item?
(Associated Press) WASHINGTON - A mystery object from space is about to whizz close by Earth on Wednesday. It will not hit the planet, but scientists are stumped by what exactly it is.
Astronomers say it may be space junk or it could be a tiny asteroid, too small to cause damage even if it hit. It is 33 to 50 feet (10 to 15 metres) wide at most.
NASA says that on Wednesday at 7:47 a.m. EST, (1247 GMT) it will streak by, missing Earth by about 80,000 miles (128,750 kilometres).
I think it's aliens whizzing by in their souped-up weekend machines, going "Nyeahhhhhh losers!" to us here on earth.
Crazy world. I think Tibby has the right answer.
But if I had felt indecisive, I think the recently updated carry-on policy for Canadian flight passengers would have made the decision pretty easy. I'm more frightened of the over-paid security policy analysts that came up with this. And it just serves to remind me of how very unglamorous plane travel has become, whereas the train still has, in some instances, a real allure.
This is part of what we are allowed to carry with us:
Does the presence of wool prove the innocent intentions of the bearer of knitting needles? Are terrorists smart enough to remind their compatriots: "Hey Bob! Don't forget the wool... and while you're waiting in the check-in line, knit a few rows, that'll fool them good and proper! Hey, and use that soft, pastel baby wool!"? And anyway, as any Bond fan knows, any operative worth the trouble can kill with their hair, or their thighs.
Speaking of not flying, did you see this news item?
(Associated Press) WASHINGTON - A mystery object from space is about to whizz close by Earth on Wednesday. It will not hit the planet, but scientists are stumped by what exactly it is.
Astronomers say it may be space junk or it could be a tiny asteroid, too small to cause damage even if it hit. It is 33 to 50 feet (10 to 15 metres) wide at most.
NASA says that on Wednesday at 7:47 a.m. EST, (1247 GMT) it will streak by, missing Earth by about 80,000 miles (128,750 kilometres).
I think it's aliens whizzing by in their souped-up weekend machines, going "Nyeahhhhhh losers!" to us here on earth.
Crazy world. I think Tibby has the right answer.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Long Ago and Far Away
My first experience of live theatre came at the age of five. Pretty lucky five-year-old: my parents and I attended Prokoviev's ballet of Cinderella, performed by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, in London. It was choreographed by Sir Frederick Ashton, who also played one of the ugly sisters, with Robert Helpmann as the other. Antoinette Sibley was Cinderella, and her long time dance partner, Anthony Dowell, was her Prince Charming, one of the most renowned partnerships in the Royal Ballet's history. On arriving at the opera house, my father saw Dame Margot Fonteyn, who wasn't dancing, entering the stage door, which was very exciting!
So it was with great delight that I found that production on DVD. I bought it for my parents a couple of years ago and we watched it again recently. There is something particularly English about the choreography, which isn't the most thrilling, but it has an absolute charm. When a transformed Cinderella appears at the end of the first act, her carriage pulled by mice, it was heart stopping then, and it still is. Is it any wonder so many little girls go mad for ballet?
Apparently at intermission my parents rose to go and get a drink and beckoned me to follow them, at which point I burst into tears and refused to get out of my seat. I thought they were trying to trick me to leave, and I didn't want the magic to end. Not even the promise of an ice-cream budged me. I've been a fan ever since, and the tears still occasionally happen.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Last of the Christmas Ornaments
As I packed away the Christmas decorations this weekend I realized there was one little grouping of ornaments, particularly treasured, that I didn't feature on my blog.
When I was in Philadelphia a few years ago, we visited Christ Church, a most beautiful building which is mostly white inside, with plain glass in the sizeable windows. This is purposeful, so that the beauty of nature could be seen from inside. There is one large tree outside the main window, and - as a tree hugger - I can't think of a more beautiful and inspiring sight for the worshippers to behold. On the sunny day we were visiting it was quite breathtaking. In the delightful gift shop, I found a trio of small, beautifully made church choir mice, made in England, and a small china dove on a string. They came home with me, and each Christmas the mice sit under my small wired Christmas tree beside the dining-room table. The dove is suspended from the top.
When I was in Philadelphia a few years ago, we visited Christ Church, a most beautiful building which is mostly white inside, with plain glass in the sizeable windows. This is purposeful, so that the beauty of nature could be seen from inside. There is one large tree outside the main window, and - as a tree hugger - I can't think of a more beautiful and inspiring sight for the worshippers to behold. On the sunny day we were visiting it was quite breathtaking. In the delightful gift shop, I found a trio of small, beautifully made church choir mice, made in England, and a small china dove on a string. They came home with me, and each Christmas the mice sit under my small wired Christmas tree beside the dining-room table. The dove is suspended from the top.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Girding my Loins...
... to bundle up and get outside. It's one of those brilliantly sunny but killingly cold Canadian winter days.
I started taking down the tree this morning while I watched Fritz Lang's Man Hunt (1941) on TCM. Walter Pidgeon (with his lovely American accent and his deep, well-modulated voice) is a big game-hunter and Englishman, in a battle of wits with evil George Sanders who (with his lovely English accent and deep, well-modulated voice) is a vile Nazi. Joan Bennett is very lovely to look at but has the worst English accent. Actually, on second thought, she doesn't. When Walter Pidgeon arrives back in England he is immediately witness to a procession of pearly kings and queens (because they're everywhere apparently, even at night, and - dangit - we need to know Walter is really in England), and one of them stops to speak to him and does the worst cockney accent ever. Worse than all the community theatre productions of My Fair Lady put together.
The cinematography is beautiful (by Arthur Miller, not the playwright), with one of the most stunning opening shots ever; the camera pans through a forest scene, and I found myself, fork halfway to mouth with portion of breakfast, frozen, watching it. Not an attractive view of me, but a truly powerful one on screen.
Well, this blog post will be the last of my attempts to procrastinate. I shall now bundle up like Nanook, and venture forth. If I'm not back for tea, send the huskies.
I started taking down the tree this morning while I watched Fritz Lang's Man Hunt (1941) on TCM. Walter Pidgeon (with his lovely American accent and his deep, well-modulated voice) is a big game-hunter and Englishman, in a battle of wits with evil George Sanders who (with his lovely English accent and deep, well-modulated voice) is a vile Nazi. Joan Bennett is very lovely to look at but has the worst English accent. Actually, on second thought, she doesn't. When Walter Pidgeon arrives back in England he is immediately witness to a procession of pearly kings and queens (because they're everywhere apparently, even at night, and - dangit - we need to know Walter is really in England), and one of them stops to speak to him and does the worst cockney accent ever. Worse than all the community theatre productions of My Fair Lady put together.
The cinematography is beautiful (by Arthur Miller, not the playwright), with one of the most stunning opening shots ever; the camera pans through a forest scene, and I found myself, fork halfway to mouth with portion of breakfast, frozen, watching it. Not an attractive view of me, but a truly powerful one on screen.
Well, this blog post will be the last of my attempts to procrastinate. I shall now bundle up like Nanook, and venture forth. If I'm not back for tea, send the huskies.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Okay, okay...
It's time to get a grip. Or rather it's time to loosen a grip on the Colston Bassett stilton, the baklavas the Armenians left on Christmas day, the Mary Macleod shortbread, the offerings from Soma, and then the Christmas feast the Armenians gave us last night. I think I'll be digesting till June... or tomorrow morning anyway. Then it's really time to tackle the one project I didn't complete last year (weight related, sigh). And to blog more regularly. I miss it. I miss you!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Happy Birthday Rupert!
66 years ago, during WWII, my grandmother made a teddy bear each for my father and my uncle. My father's Rupert is still with him today.
Ruper has lost his button eyes a couple of times, all of his fur, and some of his stitched nose. As you can see by some shaky stitching, his head almost completely came off once.
We undressed him Christmas Day for his new outfit, purchased in Chinatown by my mother. Mark fortified him with some Prosecco.
And here he is, in his chair, on my parents' mantel, before the portrait of Count Basie. Rupert in all his silken splendour. He certainly deserves it and I think he carries it off quite well.
Oh... and it's my dad's birthday too!
Ruper has lost his button eyes a couple of times, all of his fur, and some of his stitched nose. As you can see by some shaky stitching, his head almost completely came off once.
We undressed him Christmas Day for his new outfit, purchased in Chinatown by my mother. Mark fortified him with some Prosecco.
And here he is, in his chair, on my parents' mantel, before the portrait of Count Basie. Rupert in all his silken splendour. He certainly deserves it and I think he carries it off quite well.
Oh... and it's my dad's birthday too!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm
It's been so good to take some time off. I'm relaxing into a most delicious rejuvenation, with the occasional nap in between slowly performed tasks, long walks, and time for reflection.
My eyes have had a rest too, because, instead of reading, I'm listening to one of my favourite presents this year, the unabridged recording of Brideshead Revisited, narrated by Jeremy Irons. If you saw the magnificent series from the 1980s (I haven't been able to bring myself to see the movie version from a couple of years back), you'll remember Irons' voice over. It's that same languid tone he uses here, except he's performing all the characters and he does a really fine job. There are 10 CDs and the box cover features imagery from the recent movie - a bit of cross-over promotion.
Sitting in my study wingchair, with my eyes closed, the occasional sip of hot tea, and some pieces of Soma's irresistible chocolate shortbread, I'm in heaven. And feeling very grateful.
My eyes have had a rest too, because, instead of reading, I'm listening to one of my favourite presents this year, the unabridged recording of Brideshead Revisited, narrated by Jeremy Irons. If you saw the magnificent series from the 1980s (I haven't been able to bring myself to see the movie version from a couple of years back), you'll remember Irons' voice over. It's that same languid tone he uses here, except he's performing all the characters and he does a really fine job. There are 10 CDs and the box cover features imagery from the recent movie - a bit of cross-over promotion.
Sitting in my study wingchair, with my eyes closed, the occasional sip of hot tea, and some pieces of Soma's irresistible chocolate shortbread, I'm in heaven. And feeling very grateful.
Monday, December 28, 2009
"Winter Poems"
... is the name of this wood engraving by Gerard Brender à Brandis, which hangs above my desk.
And as I sit at my desk, a little like the one in the picture, I, too, look out at snowy boughs. The first real snow of the season has fallen on downtown Toronto. I don't think it will settle long, as impressive as it looks right now.
It's certainly a night to be warm and cosy. And as I drink my tea I'm perusing a book of poems by Wallace Stevens. Here's an appropriate one for tonight.
The Snow Man
And as I sit at my desk, a little like the one in the picture, I, too, look out at snowy boughs. The first real snow of the season has fallen on downtown Toronto. I don't think it will settle long, as impressive as it looks right now.
It's certainly a night to be warm and cosy. And as I drink my tea I'm perusing a book of poems by Wallace Stevens. Here's an appropriate one for tonight.
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the jupiters shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Christmas in a few Pictures
The last of the shopping was done during lunch at the Distillery.
Where I picked up a gift for my mother, a tea towel by Emma Bridgewater. It was well received! Rowrrrrrrrr...
I finished rolling and wrapping beeswax candles (after a last-minute dash to the shops to find some more wick, dagnabit!)
I like traditions that can evolve and change. One that has been solid for a few years now is watching the masterful Alistair Sim in A Christmas Carol. (1951) on Christmas Eve.
"Can you forgive a pig-headed old fool with no eyes to see with and no ears to hear with all these years?"
It was different this year as I enjoyed it with a 19-poundturkey tabby on my chest.
Another tradition: buttered panettone for breakfast as we open presents. But we shifted from drinking prosecco... there had been a bit too much celebrating the afternoon and night before.
Presents opened, I roasted some chestnuts for the soup.
And - new this Christmas - made some rosemary bread, which scented the place well.
Christmas dinner was topped with my mother's incredible trifle, a much-loved, three-year-old tradition around here.
And today, a blustery walk to Cherry Beach to take in some much-needed oxygen, burn off some calories, and clear my head after some wonderful and busy days.
Where I picked up a gift for my mother, a tea towel by Emma Bridgewater. It was well received! Rowrrrrrrrr...
I finished rolling and wrapping beeswax candles (after a last-minute dash to the shops to find some more wick, dagnabit!)
I like traditions that can evolve and change. One that has been solid for a few years now is watching the masterful Alistair Sim in A Christmas Carol. (1951) on Christmas Eve.
"Can you forgive a pig-headed old fool with no eyes to see with and no ears to hear with all these years?"
It was different this year as I enjoyed it with a 19-pound
Another tradition: buttered panettone for breakfast as we open presents. But we shifted from drinking prosecco... there had been a bit too much celebrating the afternoon and night before.
Presents opened, I roasted some chestnuts for the soup.
And - new this Christmas - made some rosemary bread, which scented the place well.
Christmas dinner was topped with my mother's incredible trifle, a much-loved, three-year-old tradition around here.
And today, a blustery walk to Cherry Beach to take in some much-needed oxygen, burn off some calories, and clear my head after some wonderful and busy days.
Friday, December 25, 2009
It's Just Past Midnight Here...
Merry Christmas everyone!
I hope you are warm, safe and loved tonight.
I hope you are warm, safe and loved tonight.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Three Moods of Inspector Tibblesworth
There's something interesting happening! Is it worth me moving?
Smoooooove T.
Love me.
I visited Tibby and his (and my) folks on Saturday to give him his Christmas manicure (I wasn't up to tackling the pedicure) and he was in fine form. I'm biased, but - seriously - what a good-looking cat!
Smoooooove T.
Love me.
I visited Tibby and his (and my) folks on Saturday to give him his Christmas manicure (I wasn't up to tackling the pedicure) and he was in fine form. I'm biased, but - seriously - what a good-looking cat!
Tree Ornament of the Day #18
A velvety, gold-topped jester's boot is today's tree ornament, purchased from one of the very fine Stratford Shakespeare Festival's shops during intermission several years ago. There are so many good memories of attending theatre in Stratford, and next season's line up is looking good. I have to get myself organized with tickets sooner this year.
In the meantime, how did it get to be the day before Christmas Eve? It's ridiculous how quickly it comes around, and it certainly gets here faster each year. I'm almost of the mind to want to celebrate it every other year. But maybe it's me who needs to slow down and look from side to side instead of steadily onward. Life is short... but wide. I drink to that tonight with a nip of Cardhu and a dark Lindor ball, or three.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Tree Ornament of the Day #17
Isn't she cute? About two inches tall, this little ballerina mouse was another purchase many moons ago at a peformance of the National Ballet of Canada. Here she seems to be dancing among the trees. I'd like to be among the trees right now... tramping through softly fallen snow on my way to my little cabane au Canada.
There are chesnuts tonight (prepping them for Christmas Day soup), but they are roasting in an oven... and the fireplace is on a dvd. But the music is good and I'm feeling grateful.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Happy Solstice and Tree Ornaments of the Day #14, 15 and 16
The parallel traditions around the time of the winter solstice fascinate me. The reversal of the shortening days for our ancestors called for celebrations and other gatherings to honour the ideas of birth and rebirth. These often involved dancing, singing, feasting and bonfires. These gatherings helped dispell the fears and sadness that marked the short days and long, cold nights. By slaughtering livestock, our ancestors wouldn't have to feed them through the winter, so there was plenty of meat to be eaten. And as the sun began to appear for longer each day, it was natural that a light-celebration was part of the solstice festivities. Is it any wonder then that so many religions and traditions have light as the centre of the rituals of this time of year, and that we gather together so enthusiastically?
Tonight I toasted the solstice with single malt scotch and some gingerbread, depicted here in solstice-worthy, quasi-pagan images of anatomically correct gingerbread people. Oh, there's a snowflake and a boot too.
Tonight I toasted the solstice with single malt scotch and some gingerbread, depicted here in solstice-worthy, quasi-pagan images of anatomically correct gingerbread people. Oh, there's a snowflake and a boot too.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Tree Ornament of the Day #13
The idea behind this ornament is the same as for the Nutcracker... pull on the string and his arms and legs fly up and down!
This hinged teddy bear is very important to my mother and I. She has often noted that it is at this time of year, during the period just before the solstice, that accidents and other tragedies seem most likely to occur. She believes we are at our lowest ebb, that our defences and instincts are slower than at any other time. And it was at this time, several years ago, when she suffered an accident, that - thankfully - was not as serious as it might have been.
She had been Christmas shopping and had just picked up this little ornament for me. She was crossing the road, and was knocked down by a van, who hadn't seen her. She was not at fault, but in these situations it is the pedestrian who takes the damage. It shook her up badly, apart from sustaining some physical damage. Luckily she's always been a strong, healthy woman, and she bounced back within a few weeks, although her back and neck were bothered badly for years to come.
Each year when she visits and sees this ornament, she reminds me, with much amusement, that in that strange moment, when she was struck and falling, and everything seemed to slow right down, she was worrying that this little wooden teddy bear might be broken and that I wouldn't get to enjoy it. Odd thought for a life-threatening moment, but I think our minds often work that way in those instances.
Each year when she visits and sees this ornament, she reminds me, with much amusement, that in that strange moment, when she was struck and falling, and everything seemed to slow right down, she was worrying that this little wooden teddy bear might be broken and that I wouldn't get to enjoy it. Odd thought for a life-threatening moment, but I think our minds often work that way in those instances.
So, truly, of all these little tree ornaments, this is the most imporant to me, as it reminds me of what is most precious in my life: the people I love.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tree Ornament of the Day #12
This year's One-of-a-Kind Show purchase was a little stained glass mouse which came with its own nice round hook. I don't know the lady's name, but Kidogoasis is the name of her studio where she produces these very reasonably-priced ornaments. I bought a couple more for presents, of course!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Tree Ornament of the Day #11
... another little Russian lady, who reminds me that - in between about four other books - I'm reading Vladimir Nabakov's memoirs still, "Speak, Memory", and his imagery is so powerful, and he speaks about a Russian way of life long gone.
This one looks a little more reserved than yesterday's lady. Could this one be Anna, Phil?
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tree Ornament of the Day #10
I bought this little Russian doll years ago at the opera. What impressed me most was the detail on such a small ornament, especially in the face, which you can see better below. Does she look like an Anna Karenina? Or a Tatyana? Either way, she's ready for the snow, which is still holding off here.
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