Shamelessly showing...off

 Um, wow. Look what i got! Ain't it Purty! I am becoming a shameless blogger who now, shamelessly, accepts blogger awards...Tony Anders, who became my 7th follower, (funny term, that) has awarded me, along with 9 others, a Best Blog Award!

I should really get writing...there are a lot of stories that I have kept in lay-away - but life is sooo busy!

It helps when writing and blogging are my respite...as all you bloggers know - you have an assignment, a presentation, a deadline, but inbetween working, you check your blog, you write something, you check all the blog updates, you get engaged in a few good stories - wow! 2 hours went by...

I am sooo touched! How very nice - Thanks Tony!

You will see Tony's blog, Artisan of the Soul in my blog list down under to the right - give it a hit and you will be hit with his lovely spirit - it has a residual effect for the rest of the day so hit in the morning with your coffee.

 

 Don't know why Tony awarded my blog an award because my residual effect is not necessarily lovely all the time, i feel all cracked and piecemeal, with wee bits of hard earned insight - insight I have learned from other's paths - insight that I had to make my own to truly learn it.

Well, just when i needed some blogged encouragment i got it  - cyber, yes, and intangible in a way, and from a virtual stranger who I know only by his words, and the spirit that emanates from them. 

But very tangible to me.

Thanks Tony.

So now I think it fitting to pass along the encouragement to the very blog that got me blogging in the first place, the very friend that helped me enjoy chips out of a bowl, and smarties by the boxful.

mmichele, and her blog Laundromat.

 

You will see her blog listed to the right ,way down under, scroll, scroll...

click and you will find her positive musings - mmichele is currently living her all in Winterpeg, Canada (Winnipeg). Where anything above 0 celcius is considered spring thaw.

She bikes to work in -40 c. (!!!) (which deserves a best commute to work award)  She works with a variety of lovely but often unlucky types in the in downtown W.

Though they are now in luck. 

They have her. 

She has a knack for seeing the good in the unlikeliest packages. like x-ray vision, She also has the knack for seeing right through everyday situations.

So, to mmichele, i award you the BEST BLOG AWARD !

whoo, hoo! Keep on blogging! (as opposed to trucking)

Buddhist practice: magically delicious

Practice, practice,  practice - meditate.  i can do this. I can do it again, having tasted  its delicious fruit.

Ezra's Earz : nipped and tucked

Ezra and I are playing "Loaded Questions"...in our family we usually play games for 5 reasons and five  reasons alone: we are camping or driving forever somewhere (florida, BC), during Christmas holidays, when grandparents visit, when someone is sick, or after someone has plastic surgery. (haha)

Ez had plastic surgery yesterday (thursday) on his "earsies" as I am known to call them. Otoplasty. Yes, Ezra has his very own Plastic surgeon, we call her Nancy. It was indeed a little day spa for the ears - he has no natural folds in his ears as most people do, and as folds help keep the ear somewhat flat to the head, Ezra's ears were literally perpedicular to his head. If you looked at him sideways you would not see an ear but the side of a red fleshy disc. He was once called elephant ears. He remembers this. We grow his hair longer so it covers his ears. He, thankfully, doesn't get teased by kids he knows, but only by kids that he doesn't.

Two nights before the big OP he said that he has to remember the next day as it is the last day with his old ears. He wrote down the date on a piece of paper for posterity.

In the hospital awaiting surgery, he was a bit nervous and had the choice of mask or needle for anaesthetic, "mask" he said in a heartbeat. I had to leave and Robert took over. ( I agonized over this - but missing 6 hours of classes in this intense program was going to hurt , and Robert could take the day off - he is a good parent, I had to let go) Anyways. He met the surgeon and they discovered that they went to highschool together. He texted me after Ez went in, I was on the train going into T.O, and he said that after catching up in the hallway, "Nancy" assured him that she would take good care of Ezra. She did. He has been recovering well - new lego, attention, no school, smoothies and a big fat bandage headband that he hates.

It is coming off next week for the BIG reveal...did she cut his ears off or did she just make them into little peanuts? We'll find out next week.

pre-op shot as we were going out the door

post-op shot of Ez tonight - his face is slightly swollen...(his pups (ikea) are wrapped in his old "dookies")

Here is a remnant of our game tonight, I typed as we played the first few:


1.If you could make one thing grow on trees what would it be?
Ezra: star wars lego
Marc: peace and joy berries

2. What is it about being older do you look forward to?
Ezra: "taking naps at home"
Marc: "being able to pinch cute, um, cheeks without impunity"

3. What is a great thing to have when you are camping?
Ezra: "pocket knife....and lego star wars"
Marc: "canoe and paddles"

4. Who would you avoid getting a kiss from?
Ezra: "Jenny and Whitney, because they try to kiss me over and over again"
Marc: "bearded/very haired men"

5. "If you could plot a master theft what would you steal?
Ezra: nothing , cause I already have a tree that grows lego star wars, hmm, I could steal war, then there would be no war....but then there would be no star wars...hmmm
Marc: " I would steal a year's worth of Corona -(I'm trying to be practical here) so nice not to have to do beer runs...

6. What comes to mind when you hear the word fresh?
Ezra: "good things grow ow OW, in, ON TaaR IIII OOOOOO"
Marc: "ok, to be honest, I think of someone BEING fresh..."
Ezra: "huh?"

7. What game are you great at?
Ezra: "soccer"
MArc: "yes, you are the master....haha, like I'm good at games..."

8. How do you handle disappointment?
Ezra: "I say "oh, maaan" then i just keep on going"
Marc: " I take it out of the small and place it in the big large scheme of things and see what it looks like. I also might carry that disappointment around for a bit, which is not recommended"

9. "Whats worth saving your money for?"
Ezra: "Medicine , food , clothes, video games, shelter and more police on the roads (tax)"
Marc: "Vacations, kids education (perhaps) if we all survive teenagerhood...

10.What crime doesn't deserve a punishment?
Ezra: "nONe, except for looting in Haiti, but not when they steal from other people"
MArc: "criminals need true rehab and removal of privileges (not rights), punishment accomplishes nothing in the end - rather dark ages"

11. What is your fave sandwich?
Ezra: "hard outside and soft inside bread/bun with ham, mayo, lettuce"
Marc: "Seedy grainy bread with chewy crust - anything goes inside and I'd be happy"

12: " Who would be the first female prez of the United States"
Ezra: "Aunt Heidi"
MArc: "yep. i agree, she'd make a good one, so would Linda Bokma Dejong"

13. What inspires your fashion sense?
Ezra: "myself"
MArc: "I would love to be bold and say "myself" like my kiddo, but I would have to say trends, myself, others, colours i see,  budget...my perception of myself as younger or, NOT old or fuddy...when I should really just give in to fuddy..."


The Nurses decided to leave a tail...

and Ez decided a cool hat would make him presentable in public

Picnicking with Buddha in the Stacks

I am a late-blooming gal, finishing an Hons. B.A last June from McMaster University at the age of 40. Previously, in my fundamentalist Christian youth, i completed a Bachelor of Religious Ed. - a bit of a mis-nomer as it may be more accurate to call it a Bachelor of Christian Superiority. Which is too bad really.  Other "world religions" studied in this program were not given their due, were not honoured, were seen to be "bound by culture" - funny how that worked as they never saw Christianity to be bound by culture - only everyone else. Though I do think that it is hard to see when you are immersed in a culture. But none-the-less, the "other" religions were only studied for their redemptive cracks - the place where Christianity could put its long white finger.Notice I am not including Jesus in all this. He didn't even HAVE a white finger.

I now feel badly for those who ascribe to this  - for they are missing out on the richness of humanity - in the world, and indeed in themselves.

 
So this "bible-belt" degree  - only recognized in the wide bible belt running down the middle of America. It prepared me to be either a mosquito bitten white-man's-burden type foreign missionary or a youth programs director in a church big enough to have a large youth faction.  I chose the latter after a bout of Malaria was about as close to the guiding voice of God as i could find. I enjoyed my youth work, the youth in particular, and found ways to get around the long white finger, and yet sometimes I was the white finger. This started to change in the last church i worked in - gave me lots to think about as it was the curious combination of high, medium and low Anglican.

 I needed to go further in my spirituality but felt i had hit a wall - but there was no way to go further. With my faith alarmingly waning, I gave my last homily, on the only truth I knew, my gaping doubt. The priests gathered me into the inner chambers after the service and I received both their surprise and their compassion. They had no designs to fire me but to allow me to explore this desert for a while, as liberal Anglicans are wont to do. But I realized this was more than a 40 days-in-the-wilderness type thing, it was a fork in the road. And the tong I was going towards would only hinder my effectiveness in this job. The kids at least deserved someone who has come back from the desert and could tell a good tale about it. I chose to go through the desert and come out on the other side, wherever that was.


I was also clinically depressed. I know why. To tell my family, my community, my friends about this would be like coming out of the closet - and I knew that from that point, I would be on my own. At least in the closet I was surrounded by my people.

For five years I slowly climbed out of the closet and decided to finally turn the page. I started to work on my degree, taking courses in English, Cultural Studies and Peace/Conflict studies part-time over a span of 5 years at McMaster. I loved and appreciated the precious freedom to pursue ideas - which often took the form of wandering through the stacks in the Humanities library. I would pick up random books off the shelf whose titles had a certain appeal - "Christ was a Communist",  "Blue and Pink: symbols of Gender management", "Fashion and Faux-pas: Students and  Profs tell eachother what not to wear", "Jesus and Buddha Meet at Last", "Hijab or not to Hijab: Muslim women give the dirt on head covering",  "Lesbians don't do it: lessons from the queer side of life", "Mickey Mouse and Nazi Ideology", "Derrida and Batman: unrequited love".

After a while, I got to know all the primo spots in the library, like spots for Making-Out or whatever they call it now (or rather the annoying observation of it while trying to get work done), spots that had a desk, a plug-in for your computer and a view of outside (rare). Spots close to the stairwell but well-hidden in a no-mans-land alcove, so you can leave all your stuff but your wallet and go for a quick coffee (rarer still). Stacks can get awfully claustophobic after 5 hours. To find a book, a spot, an alcove  - to be in the library in any floor above the first floor, was pretty much an individual pursuit, unless of course you were getting cozy in the MO stacks.

The 5th floor held most of McMaster's religious collection. I would be drawn to this like a dutchman to coffee-time, or as one Anglican priest loved to point out to me, glass in hand,  like a dutchman to rum. I needed to get a better hold on my state of lost religion, maybe find others who wrote about a similar thing (they did and I found them) and perhaps put my rumbling past to bed. Wandering over to the  BS section on the fifth floor I was intrigued to learn it held books on Christian Theology. As I hadn't read one Christian word for more than 5 years, I decided to see what i might be missing.

"Learning to be humble when Christianity Kicks Everyone's Ass", "Difficult passages: How to interpret Jesus' parables without loosing your (tailored) (Italian made) (5,000 thread count) (Egyptian massaged cotton) shirt" and "How to send your son's butt-less-chapped-butt into Gay Re-hab."  There were also the yawn-inducing theology titles that no one touched , not even the theology students, and some refreshing titles that involved compassion and creativity which restored my faith in Jesus' core message of compassion, love - which happens to be the core message for most of the universe's religions and spiritual quests. Funny, that. I walked through all the religious aisles, spending endless hours between classes eating books that had nothing to do with the paper I was researching. I think i was very hungry for a new way to see. And eager to get the line-up of old bearded patriarchs, and some people's white fingers, far behind me.

I remember the Buddhist section on the fifth floor, it was a long row of stacks at the end, with a window. I and a number of students - a variety of ages and ethnicities, all of us strangers - would sit against the wall facing the Buddhist stacks, and read little tiny buddhist texts (most of them were indeed small), spreading out our stuff  -  a picnic of books and coffee and take-out noodles. And we were quiet. We whispered "excuse me" when we reached or stepped over someone to pull a book off the shelf, and whispered back "no problem".  Sometimes people would fall asleep with their coats as pillows, lying prone in the middle of this Buddhist picnic while pages were softly turning, all becoming one in the single mindfulness of reading, eating or sleeping. Minding the inner rythms of the soul. This practice nourished me over the years, the picnic was always waiting for me, taking me in as soon as I sat down, wordlessly, as if expecting me.

I believe that if i had sat and read these texts one stack over, i would not have absorbed the strange new seeds of the Buddha as i did in the stacks of the human picnic. Like the seed of connection - the inter-connection of all sentient beings - this much was clear from the wordless connection we strangers had to eachother, but as i spent days and weeks in and out of the picnic, I knew interconnectivity extended far beyond, and i was not willing to go there just yet, I was still indulging in the bad habit of harshly judging others whose religious beliefs I had rejected  - a habit i learned from them that I needed to get rid of - it was poisoning my soul.

As I looked into it further, I realized that Interconnectivity went past all the human containers  - the hard and fast categories of faithful and faithless that I was taught at an early age, the labels and library cataloguing systems we endeavor to place everyone and everything in. It even reached all my reject categories, all the ones I'd rather not picnic with in the stacks. We are connected in this web of life and yearning.

Then it occured to me, in the sinking-heart fashion of defeat and irony, that this interconnectivity also extended to all the bearded patriarchs I loathed, and the guy who wrote " How to be humble when Christianity kicks Everyone's Ass". I may not agree with this superior mentality, but instead of judging them to be inferior, I could see through it to find that familiar human insecurity that needs to be "right", to be superior, that writes others off.

We are all one, we, this teaming mass of energy and humanity, we all seek the same things at their core, we all have an inner seed for compassion and violence, and can choose to feed one more than the other. We all have containers for others - and then there are the flexible containers, open, floppy containers that allow the human to move and breath...and jump out !

I came alone to meet Buddha in the stacks. And found everyone else there too.
I am glad for it for I am free from having to judge or condemn - what joy!

place yourself in the wide wily web

 

"If you aren't part of the solution, you can make a lot of money from perpetuating the problem".

(i heard this one in a discussion this week, thought it pretty much covered all of us in some way - not just the evil bankoil execs, (it would be so nice if it were) - we're all part of the web afterall...

wow.
i really have a knack at spreading cheerful messages.
and somehow have the accompanying photos just waiting in the wings to illustrate

Lost and found

I love this one.

like you're emerging through woods to find a lost city.

actually i was emerging through woods from a trek on the Hamilton escarpment wanting a coffee.

i found one at this place on King.

Its called the Freeway coffeehouse - it says its like your livingroom, but bigger...like your life, but bigger!

these two folk served me a nice sammy and fairtrade coffee, with free internet to boot if i wanted.

I also noticed art on walls from local artists - which rotate monthly they said, eyeing me for interest..looking down at my muddy boots.

they are a downtown venue for community events, gatherings, and a friday night venue for musicians.

well isn't that lovely?

collection for coats and food at door - lots of local homeless who can drop in for free coffee and warmth. people end up buying them sandwiches.

Lost city, i am glad i found you.

Art is a funny thing

My homemade art collection, most from me, some from my sons, would not achieve gallery status, admittedly, but since this is my blog, I can punish you with some of it. Yes, here we have a bunch of old kitchen utensils, hanging, rather teasingly i might add,  in a shop window. 

My photos usually tell good stories, so stay with me...even though i often have to explain them myself. The saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" doesn't apply to my, well,  pieces. Usually when people look at them they have no words. nothing. speakers block. they are usually very nice about it though.

if staying quiet and slowly walking backwards is nice.

The above and below pics are shop windows in Hamilton. Have you ever been downtown Hamilton, the whole bit of it? It is a fascinating and lovely place. there are shops that sell stuff with their original 1966 price tag intact. there are shops that sell things that only freaky-brian would buy. there are shops that sell vintage clothing without the pricey pricetag. there are also shops that would not be caught dead in downtown Oakville, or actually, the shop owner would be FOUND dead in downtown Oakville.

 

Oakvillians, especially the Lakeshore residents,  tote guns for certain, special events, such as a gaggle of Canadian Geese gathering on their (lake) front lawn. There is also the event of a shop owner turning up the notch of excitement and turning down their nose to the bland hohum luxury of downtown Oakville.

 

i particularly love the name of this one. i can just imagine what the downtown Oakville Business Association would say to the applicant:  "um, well, we see you can afford the rent (i guess where you come from anything with joint on it achieves a certain status?), and Oakville does love its dollar stores, but, people just don't want to be seen going to one, well, downtown, especially one with such a , er, colourful name. Now if you had a name printed on a parisian window canopy thing like, "Dollar Trendz" or "Designer Dollaire" or "Made in China 4 YOURs Truly" , that might help your application along...though you would have to instruct your staff not to chew gum and wear those gawdawful walmart outfits..."

i digress. the title of this piece refers to art as a funny thing.  and it can be funny...but what i mean is funny in a curious way. Art, even my mundane photos, can arouse some thought.

Art can provoke and make one uncomfortable - this is good - its not just about pretty and perfect, all framed and contained, though that has its use too...

i guess the art you like, the stuff on your walls, and the stuff you choose not to have up,  the stuff you admire or not, always tells more than you'd want it to. or more than you'd believe ever possible. one day i will give you the (sad) tour of my house. that should explain plenty.

Story of the Eternal Ham

Trying out frugal meat week.

TUESDAY: bought a ham (20 bucks) spiral, bone in served it with mashed roots, applesauce, veg - happy boys

WEDNESDAY: texted Robert from class how to make gnocchi and use the ham...he decided to saute rather than toss the ingredients together - gnocchi with a bit of onion, bits of ham, olive oil...then add salt and pep and parmesan...salad on side. i came home late, boys layin about the fire, yum they said, daddy can cook...

THURSDAY: back from class early. Attempt to use leftover mashed roots to make a version of latke/potato pancake with some drippings from ham and more oil, adding egg, flour and onion and HAM to the mashed. as my web recipes tell me.  Realized mediocre crispiness is because of the low starch in the sweet potato and parsnips...they eat them politely. With more applesauce.

FRIDAY: I notice the house has a ham smell when you first walk in. For dinner had Pizza - Hawaiian with....that meat again.

SATURDAY: back from the hill (ski/snowboarding), cold to the bone from watching them  (yes for those interested, I wore a HAT). Used ham bone and drippings, bay leaves to make pea soup. It's my sister-in-law Dineke's recipe with apple and cumin, garlic, carrot, potato, onions, split peas and HAM...very good. I make sure not too goopy as pea soup can get that way fast. Even so, Ezra decides the texture is off-putting. He has agreed to pose with the bowl on the condition that he can express his feelings towards whats in it.

Older two and Robert plough through it and say its good when prompted...hockey game is starting. I am feeling the need to get out and eat something other than ham.

Put pea soup and rest of  ham to rest. In the freezer.  For the winter.

Robert has cleaned whole kitchen...pea soup does get around...and is making coffee.  i do love that man.

We're not used to fighting for democracy, me thinks

i have a fantasy.

i am the Governor General. stephen harper has just called on the phone and demanded that i suspend/prorogue parliament for the second time.

i tell him not so fast.  buddy

i imagine his eyebrows lift a little.  Did she just call me buddy

yes I did, now stop talking to yourself, its what's got you in this mess in the first place -you hate other's input

I demand that you shut down parliament.

come over and ask me.

Fine.


would you please knock before you come into the royal residence? a little courtesy aint hurt no one.

Your mastery of english sucks alot.

yours sucks worser, me thinks.

You and that Canada of yours don't understand that prorogation is constitutional and perfectly legal.

so was slavery.

Oh you and your leftwingdemocracylovinhistoryswillincommihuggin....

just because its constitutionally legal doesn't mean its constitutional in spirit...just because its permissable doesn't mean its benificial...your apostle paul said that, and he wasn't a commi

Surely the Luge and the Bobsled are more interesting to Canadians than government denial of Afghani torture and carbon emissions responsibilities and the shut-down of democracy...

you have a point.

Getting Sauced

 I had a few neighborhood friends come over recently to make applesauce. We called it "getting sauced" for a few reasons. One was the butterscotch cider. There's been antipasto parties and stitch n' bitch sessions and the latest, Posh Applesauce. I have made applesauce with my sister-in-law Janette and my mother at different times, now it seems I am the only one left holding the apple. Requests for my applesauce for family dinners have turned into expectations that I'm happy to oblige. 

The dutch do have a thing for apples in all forms it seems. The apple takes such precedence in their world, thereby their language, that their word for potato is aardappel - meaning earth apple - cute huh?  I have been making this since 1997 when I adapted a recipe in a Martha mag. i confess I liked her mag at the time because it was new (to me) as were the recipes, and projects (not that I made any).

Now it seems the world has been martha'd up and it can't escape her gaze.

Great as a filling in Crepes (as long as its chunky), or with potato latkes (esp ones with green onion), smashed roots and porkchops, bangers and mash, porkroast, you get the idea.

Posh "Appel"sauce

Makes about 7 cups - freezes well - fine in fridge for a few days

• 18 McIntosh apples, (about 6 pounds), peeled, cored, and quartered - no other kind of apple will do
  
• 1 cup apple cider – and a bit more
• 1 large cinnamon stick
• 1/2 vanilla bean (split into two quarters)
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger (I do two)
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom (if you don't have, don't worry)
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg - approx.
• 1/2 teaspoon ground mace (if you don't have, don't worry)
• 1/2 cup sugar, or to taste (for kids I do more)
• 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice 

1. Pour apple cider in small to med stock pan. Add cinnamon sticks and the 2 vanilla bean quarters. Turn up heat on stove to medium-ish to allow a simmer.

1. Meanwhile, peel, core and cut apples into quarters – add them in batches as you peel them to the simmering cider. Give them a stir every so often (like after you add a few more apples) using a wooden/bamboo/material of your choice spoon to break things down a bit. Then about half way through peeling, add the ginger, cardamom, nutmeg, mace, sugar, and lemon juice.
2. Add more apple cider, sugar or spices as you see fit.

4.      Finish adding last apples and stir and pay attention – make sure these last apples cook and break down a bit, but leave them in chunks to give you chunky applesauce. Remove vanilla pods and cinnamon sticks.

She'll be arriving around a corner near you

 It's January. This means that in my mind's eye the calendar flips up and I am at the top of a long line of 12 months spiralling down to December. I can't see Jan 2011. So, what do I see shortly down the line after those piles of snow? I see spring. And if you had the hiking biking friends I have, you'd crane your neck past your love of snow and see spring too. Maybe some of you have my friends or people just like them.

There is nothing lovelier on a Spring Sunday morning than going for a hike in the wild, wily woods of the Carolinian Forest in Southern Ontario - with wild friends, and the makings for tea and scones. We made the tea with my handy dandy mini hiking stove. I am not smug about that at all.

I think we were able to burn some grass that gave a pleasant, meeting-of-the-minds-by-the-river type experience.The Scones went down well, though we have been known to stop for a 3 eggs and bacon breakfast on our way back. One is ravenous after such a morning.

Thats Andrea to the left, Jaye in the middle and Kendra the hankerchiefed on the right (see pic above)

Here a few pics of our findings:

Trillum (white) and wild columbine (red)

A "grow where you're planted" finding

Shrooms. should take a guidebook next time to see what we could do with them...

Leaving Almyra

I lived with my friend Almyra and a few others in Toronto for a summer or two in the late eighties (we were Camp Counsellors at Scott Mission's summer kids camp) as well as in the "Mount Hope house" with Bettie, Val and for a while, Andrea. Mount Hope was the absolute opposite to Toronto - the only exiting thing going on in Mount Hope was happening in our house, and maybe the Hamilton airport in our backyard.

Almyra's mother used to have a little Christian Bookstore in their basement in Beamsville, and I remember feeling like I was in heaven down there amongst the books (ha). Some of you may remember those Paidea press books - soft cover - had parables and other stories with really '60s/'70's esque graphics?

Anyways, Almyra comes to visit family and friends in Canada every year or two from her perch in Luxembourg. This summer we were lucky to have her. She rented a cottage by Long Point on Lake Erie for a week with some of her family at the end of August.

I took this shot as I was leaving (long point, and her) to go back home.

We never end up with enough time together, but we take what we can get. She is a photographer. Frequent memories of her include a camera dangling from her neck. I wonder what she thinks of this one.

She has an eye, as they say.

Squirrelling away Gingerbread

Mr. Black Squirrel is squirrelling away our gingerbread house.

He has allowed grey squirrel a few bites.

We are glad for it as we only eat the candy off anyway.

I do hope it will bode well for his digestive system.

The wire cutters are laying there as I used them to cut some branches for Xmas as I could not find my garden clips. Every electrician's daughter knows how to re-purpose wire cutters.

Communist Mo'town

 

Linda and I, on our semi-annual girls night in Detroit trip, between venues, heard (machine) gunfire.

We were sitting on a bench in the centre square, drinking some fine french roast after a dinner in "Greek Town " (rather American-remade Greek nostalgia-town). We looked to the locals, who happened to be skating on a rink in the square - they looked inquisitive, for about 20 seconds, then proceeded to skate again. We sipped on, taking our cue from the relaxed skaters, though we did wonder if they were hardened Detroit folk, or if they indeed were as naive as we were...another round of gunfire.

This time some skaters hopped the fence and walked towards the area of the sound...other folk on the sidewalk were doing the same...so we slunk over, not wanting to be an obvious target...and we discovered a movie set. Set guys told us it was a remake of Red Dawn.

\

If you know Linda at all, you will understand why she made me take a photo of her holding up an entire tank on her left palm.

Linda seems rather cheerful about communism in America, or is it just that she is the centre of the photo?

This is a photo of the River from our hotel room. The Rennaisance in the GM centre (?) - tres mo'town

This is the pic for 2007, before we entered our 40's, so we look awfully young. We seem to be holding on to eachother for support, probably because we knew we were lucky to be alive (story will remain untold)

This is Cliff Bell's on Park Ave. A lovely live Jazz/Swing Bar that we end off our evenings with. The music and food are fantastic, so is the ladies powder room - all Zebra striped carpet and wood.

In 2007, we stumbled upon Cliff Bell's after leaving Collossus, a neat little bar a few blocks over (we were escaping the advances of a racist Mississipi doctor who paid our tab). We went to Collosus before Cliff Bell's again this year, but no tab paying man available. We did have our dear little grey-pony-tailed bartender make us up a custom drink - lime, mint, melon...still can't figure out the ingredients completely, and it was really really good.

Note to Linda: the Marlin recipe:  i forgot to include lime...we'll have to go back next year and get the actual recipe. (do you call them recipes?)

If anyone has a conference in Detroit, or Sarnia (ha) Nov '10, do join us...

florida '09

I looked through my old drafts and found this one  - Florida'09.  never published it. I Will now. We are destined for same place this March '10...but one of the cottages with 2 bedrooms - Ez has made it clear he will no longer sleep in a walk-in-closet. Here's my old post:

We went to Florida for March Break March 13-22 2009. We will keep doing it till the novelty wears off i think. There is something about the not-so-very luxurious and cheap holiday in the sun. Began florida trecking last year  in the panhandle thinking we'd avoid the big Tack that is the mainland of Florida. But it was a little cooler (temp) than we wanted, and the pools were not heated, a bit of a ghost town (but still very interesting and nicer than staying home). So this year we opted for Gulf side, in an old Florida styled '50s cottage, 30 seconds from the beach, a pool and spa shared with other cottagers. We embraced the ticky tack of Florida and fell in love. We have been in grieving mode since we got back. This week is better, (no more lingering over photos), but I am still wearing flipflops in the house, when I am cold I just suck it up.

Started to drive south after Caleb's hockey game on a friday night. Made good time. Early morning found us driving through the mountains of Virginia in the dark and in the brain-fog of auto-pilot. Must make a driving CD for next year ( i have no ipod). I can only take so much Kentucky blue grass and Crooning Christianese. McDonald's coffee in America must not have any caffeine... Stopped in West Virginia rest area around 3:30 am, as I could not take it any longer, bug eyed...knew we'd be in peril if I didn't...hmm, A few planted palm trees...looks like we are still heading south so we are not lost. Robert kept sleeping/snoring under the high pressure sodium lighting of the ultra safe rest stop - along with many other Ontario plated people. I tried to rest, which, though not fully sleeping, was better than driving. Rest Stop areas are patrolled and heavily populated so even though we were in gun country, we felt fine as most of the guns were drawn on our behalf.

Robert and I took turns driving and sleeping all morning.
Entry into Florida. Looks like Georgia. Ends up being a long long drive down 301, but nice for the markets and orange groves and fruitstands.


Getting hotter in the van but cannot bring ourselves to put on air conditioning. Late afternoon entry into Tampa and we are surprised at how the concrete jungle never abates into real jungle. ever. super hiways right down to the beach almost. There is no let up of concrete and planted palms. American paradise always includes planted palms and the ever ready, ever car -friendly concrete.

Get to Indian Shores which is on a key on the Gulf across Tampa Bay ...on a very fast hiway. Bottoms out onto the Gulf Blvd. which is the only major road on the key that runs from Clearwater to St. Petersburg and PasseGrille. It is saturday night, and it is as busy as Lundy's lane Niagara falls, eveyone over 60 and under 31 are cruising. We are a bit shocked but park in front of our cottage, unload a bit and go over the bridge to the beach. Ahh. Jonah turns around and says, Huh, just like all the other oceans we've been to.

He and Caleb are eager to go inside and watch sports on TSN on the foldout futon. We don't have Cable or a dishwasher at home, so when on holiday, they are luxuries to be enjoyed to the fullest. I don't really find the dishwasher an addition to my holiday, however. I locate hotodogs, pop, cheap Corona's and lime, OJ and milk at a corner store. Bliss. We took two gianormous boxes of cereal over the border, as well as some ground coffee beans in prep for an easy first morning. We all sleep. Wake up to a quiet Gluf blvd. It remains lazy and quiet for the rest of the week. Phew.

We have our own bedroom with palm bushes brushing up against the front window, Caleb and Jonah our teenagers have the open conept living room/kitchen with a mattress and Futon, Ez had the walk-in closet which we retrofitted into a bedroom with a mattress. He made a point of saying that  in case we wanted to live here instead of Oakville, (he was making plans) he wouldn't want this bedroom forever. Here is a pic of the sleeping cottage as I drive off to Winn Dixie for groceries Sunday morning after I had coffee on the beach. I begin to relax.

Winn Dixie girl does not allow me to buy my carefully chosen alchol products of Corona or wine before 11 am as it was Sunday...some Florida law leftover from the dry days of prohibition and deep south temperance movement no doubt. No alcohol before 11 so you can come to church at least soberish and no hair of the dog while hung over. I decided it was just as cheap at the local variety store as I did not want to wait for an hour and a half. Bought 5 striped beach chairs. Watermelon and subs for lunch. we sat on beach on our new chairs, soaking in the warmth. We realized that night that more sunscreen and umbrellas are in order.


Ezra did not sit on his chair once that week, not even to eat. He was too busy creating things in the sand. castles and forts and moats mostly. He enjoyed letting the increasing tide lap them up. We learned to park our chairs and umbrella right inbetween the pool and the beach. perfect.

Jonah is oblivious to Robert's Hulk routine...

 

Thats some sort of palm shaped evergreen - soft and lush.

Robert fished all week and caught baby sharks he threw back, and then there was this guy (below) that always showed up when he saw people manouvering sticks in the water - smart, hungry birds that adapt easily to new environs.

Here we are at PasseGrille - a little walk-thru burgers, fish and fries deal right on the beach, such a lovely spot. We drove further south one day to see if there were secret spots that were even better than what we found. Came up empty, but satisfied that we had already found THE spot. Will surely return to it next year.

Some places we'd drive by had a number of closed hotels and such. I particularly loved this two story classic motel - flamingo pink, planted palms, old sign advertising the luxuries to expect (colour tv!) Parking lot up front, beach out back.

The two oldest often skim boarded the afternoons away while their parents read, swam, fished and drank Corona and observed their progress. I should take a blender next year for limey frosty blendy drinks.

One evening we went into the concrete wilds of Tampa - Robert and the boys sat in the sweet seats I bought for them at a Leafs/Lightning hockey game (the cheapest Leafs seats I will ever find) while I went into the old Tampa harbour to Ybor City - Tampa's latin quarter. It was St. Patrick's Day. I had a beer across from this place and observe the street life get greener and wilder. Lucky for me I was wearing my green scarf - I had offers of free beer. Ybor city was very nice and vintagey feeling. More brick than concrete.

We rented boats with Robert's brother and family one day (they happened to be in St. Pete's about 30 min down the key) and we explored a few islands, one that reminded me of Gilligan's Island as it was lush and rather preserved other than the abandoned military buildings from another century - of course this is probably what 10, 000 other Canadians think when they get there too.

Everything in Florida is so combed over that they call one island Shell Island as you can actually find a few shells the size of your palm there, if you dig around. I just leave them be, esp. if there is something still living in it, but I will pick up some tiny little remnants and rest them under the mirror in our bathroom - a reminder of our relaxing vacation but also a reminder that we too are colonists, taking over Florida for a week or a season with thousands upon thousands of others - using it all up , using up all the goodness until it no longer has one single palm tree that was not planted by human hands. Thank goodness for nature reserves and the everglades. But we intend on visiting the everglades next year...as will thousands.

 Can't keep humans away, trying to touch everything, put their defining fingers over it all - a way to control things as opposed to letting them BE what they are, rather than BE for whatever use humans want them for. I am conflicted with my kitschy love for Florida. It is such a monument to manufactured paradise, and yet, I find that endearing, hopeful somehow - odd I know - maybe its the youthful, brash hope of America. Maybe I will be able to put my finger on it next March. Robert, somehow, has put his fingers on it already.