Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Face Mask Night

Tuesday night is face mask night.

I put Sullivan to bed, stir together baking soda, cream, and honey, and walk around the house looking like Death or one of his pale, ghostly relatives. Sometimes I add lemon juice. Sometimes I add cocoa. Sometimes I close my eyes and grab something out of the fridge.

The Rule, which I learned after a few minutes of Pinterest-searching "best DIY face mask ever", is that you can pretty much put anything on your face and call it a face mask. Maybe not ketchup or, you know, laundry soap, but I mean, just don't be stupid. Your skin likes food, is the bottom line. (Also, your skin is kind of a like a 9 month old baby who you have to puree everything for.)

Anyway, it's one of those little things that has become a normal thing and is also a big thing - little in that it literally takes 30 seconds to mix up and smear on my face (I leave it on for a whole hour while I do my other normal Tuesday night stuff and it feels amazing the whole time). Normal in that I don't think I've missed a face mask night since I started. And big in that it's something to look forward to (is that dorky?) every week. I've found that it has a drastic effect on my overall, you know, 'psyche', to sprinkle little Things like this throughout the calendar weeks. Things to anticipate and appreciate, but which aren't bank breakers or time wasters. They're so stealthy and un-monunental that I might be the only one who even notices them, but that's part of their goodness. They're only for me anyway.

If you have a Thing that you do every week or every day or every once in a while that is fast and cheap but also pretty wonderful, you should tell me about it so I can maybe add it to the little list I have going. My Thing list. 

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Maira

It's been a month since I sat down at my computer to order books with all of my gift cards and wrote that post asking for recommendations about how to spend the last twelve dollars (here) (if you're looking for something to read you should hit that comments thread up). The problem is that I got so many good recommendations that I couldn't bring myself to narrow it down enough and suddenly I had too many books to buy and not enough gift card money. So I decided to give myself some time to think about it.

And think. And think. And think.

And it became this Thing. This capital letter Thing.

Like if I choose one book over another book I can't ever go back and buy that other book or something. Like books have very, very low self esteem and cease to exist when they feel rejected. Like this is my one and only chance in the Great Hollow Vastness of Time to ever buy anything. Like the libraries and book stores and e-readers of the world depend on this Decision. (I'm using a lot of unnecessary capitalization here; that's how you know I'm worked up.)

But this morning, I got an email about a promotion on right now with Chapters where you get a free $10 off when you check out using Paypal. And you have to do it by tomorrow to get the $10. And $10 can get you a whole book, in a lot of cases. Half a book in others. Two books, sometimes, if the sales are in your favour.

It was like a good old virtual kick-in-the-pants, and I placed my order just now.

But the point isn't that.

The point is: I was looking at this one book that had been recommended to me (We Were Liars; thanks Hannah) and for some reason it reminded me of...

Something else. Which, now that I'm trying to retrace my steps, I don't have any idea how I got thinking about Lemony Snicket.

OH - NO, YES I DO.

Hannah, the same Hannah, gave me a children's book by Lemony Snicket a few years ago called 13 Words, (which you need to read if you haven't already). It was illustrated by Maira Kalman, and as quirky and delightful as the writing was, the pictures were what really grabbed me. I have some other pieces of Kalman's work now, and I love everything she does.

So, okay, it was: We Were Liars, recommended by Hannah, which made me think of Lemony Snicket and Maira Kalman, which made me check to see if Maira Kalman had ever done anything for adults.

And she has! It's called The Principles of Uncertainty and it is, essentially, a 'children's book' written for adults. Instead of a children's book written for children but which adults will enjoy more than their children will (as Kalman has been criticized in the past for a sense of humour and cultural references that kids just won't understand. Not that it's 'bad', it's just, probably, over their heads).

So anyway. That ended up being one of the books I ordered, and I was so excited about it that I thought I'd let you know that it exists in case you wanted it too. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

Working Out

I work out now.

Like, I'm one of those people, the kind who gets up in the morning and does all kinds of strenuous, horrible things which technically constitute exercise. If you were sitting in the next room over, though, you'd just hear a lot of clumsy-sounding bumps and me saying, "UGGHHHH SHE HATES US ALLLLLL," and, "I HATE YOU TOOOOOOOO," a lot.

When I say 'she', I'm referring to the lady whose online workout program I'm, you know, 'doing'. I'm not here to shill for  people, but if you email me for the info I'll send you there. It's a really good one: free, less than half an hour per day, good for limited space and equipment, and kills you very dead. I feel like I may have even grown a muscle. Actually, at this moment, I feel like I am a muscle. I feel almost...invincible. Like Jillian Michaels except not anything like Jillian Michaels.

Anyway. I have a love/hate relationship with the whole thing. I hate working out, but I love having worked out, but I hate admitting to people that I work out, but I feel like I should be proud of it, too. Physical fitness is complicated.

But blogs are for complicated feelings, so here we are.

Segue:

Another thing I've been working out is my radio voice. I got asked to go on CBC Radio 1's The Morning Edition last week and give a little concert review for that Dan Mangan show I went to. I even got to pick a song and intro it. (I picked Starts With Them, Ends With Us, obviously.)

I've always wanted to be a radio DJ. Did you know that about me? In a picture perfect world, I'd have a thirty minute radio show. I wouldn't say much, but I'd get to pick all of the music and I'd intro it and fade it in and out, and that would be enough for me. Like Ryan Seacrest except not anything like Ryan Seacrest.

However, since that whole radio DJ thing isn't going to happen for me (if you've heard me speak in real life you know why), I treasured my five precious minutes of air time like crazy. And a few of my friends texted to say that they heard me, and that was also cool.

So that's me lately. Living the dream for about five minutes and just sweating a lot the rest of the time. C'est la vie. 

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

{a dozen eyeballs on the floor}


It was mostly out of nostalgia that Barclay and I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this week. I had completely forgotten (or just never realized) how terrifying that book is. Hilarious, too, but terrifying. A quick and easy read, written for children, and quirky and interesting and fun, but terrifying. Like a horrible nightmare that makes you laugh sometimes but also has a bunch of valuable life lessons in it, like don't ever chew gum. If you haven't read it, I'd say do, but I'd also say don't. I'm not sure how a person would manage to do both, but I'd recommend trying.

In any case, you've probably seen one or both of the movies (which aren't even half as sinister as the book) and remember the Mike Teavee plot line, where Mike gets sent by television and shrunk and then Wonka puts him in a special machine he has for testing the stretchiness of chewing gum.

There's a song that accompanies this bit, sung by the Oompa-Loompas (who are also so much more creepy in the book than in the movie), which goes, in part, like this:

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set -
Or better yet, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw a dozen eyeballs on the floor.)

IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!

HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE
HE CANNOT THINK - HE ONLY SEES!

I don't really care how much TV you let your kid watch, but I guess it got me thinking a very little bit about myself (oh, what's new, Suzy) and my own entertainment intake (including internet) and my own powers of thinking and how I wouldn't like them to rust and freeze. But mostly it got me thinking about how I would not like to be stretched in a machine designed to test the elasticity of chewing gum.

Anyway, so then I drew this picture of a bunch of old TVs. It was relevant and therapeutic and got my mind off of that dang book. 

Monday, March 16, 2015

{contributing}

I've been feeling fidgety again lately. And schmaltzy. And nostalgic and antsy and crawly. Lots of reminiscing about things that have happened and lots of wanting those kinds of things to happen some more. 

This morning I just about entered a writing contest to win a trip for two to Oslo, Norway to spend one night in a ski lift. Next Friday. The entry deadline is midnight tonight, Norway time, and I still really want to but it's a no-kids-allowed situation and as much as I want an adventure, I don't know if the first night I spend away from Sullivan should be, you know, across an ocean from him. But I even went so far as to start working out how much exactly it would cost to fly someone else along as a kind of vacation-nanny before having a rush of common sense (do not spend your grocery/mortgage money on this) and quickly x-ing out of the window. And then I felt really torn up about it, as though Oslo had been a sure thing right up until that moment. As though I'd been planning this trip for months and months. Which is ridiculous, since I probably wouldn't have won it anyway, and therefore nothing has changed, right? 

But maybe I was sad because I passed up on an opportunity before it passed on me. I don't usually do that. I always win at Life Chicken. If you know what I mean. 

Anyway. All that to say that I've been itching to be in the middle of something. To find myself somewhere strange - that is, somewhere I am usually not. It doesn't have to be a ski lift bed and breakfast in Oslo - it could be, for example, an ordinary old hotel in New York or Chicago. It could be five days in Scotland or a weekend in Montreal. A music festival in Texas or an art gallery in London or a jazz show in New Orleans. Even a project here in the city, something to take part in or get fired up about. Some good live music or something theatrical or something weird. 

For tonight though, I've got Aqualung in my headphones (turned way, way up) and I'm alternating painting and drawing and guzzling coffee and writing (which is why this is so scattered and disjointed, probably). And for tonight, this is working for me. I'll hit publish and someone (you, I guess) will read this and I'll feel like I've contributed something. 

Sometimes you need a grand experience, but sometimes all you need is to feel like you're contributing something. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Dan Mangan + Blacksmith, Hayden, & Astral Swans}


So like I said earlier, I hit up Darke Hall for Dan Mangan's show on Saturday night and completely loved it. I took subpar pictures and immaculate mental notes, and thought I would share it all here. Because that's what I do.

First opener: Astral Swans.

To be honest, I didn't know Astral Swans was opening when I first heard about this show. I didn't know who Astral Swans was. His set was a pretty low-fi experience as a whole, just a dude with a voice and an electric guitar - which isn't a negative, but I feel like if I'm going to go to a show to see just a dude with a voice and an electric guitar, he had really better make my day. So right up front I was apprehensive at best. 

And to make matters even harder on me, he's one of these people who wear their toques perched up on the very top of their heads just above their ears. Do people who do this just wish they had taller heads? Or have they never been to Saskatchewan in the dead of winter and don't entirely understand the point of toques? The point of toques is so that you don't have to wear earmuffs. But if you wear your toque way up on top of your head like that, you still have to wear earmuffs. So I don't know, Astral. I don't know. 

However, about three songs in he did a cover of Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain (Willie Nelson) which has always been one of my favourite, favourite, favourite songs, and it did the original major justice (high praise) so I quickly forgave him all of his quirks and just tried to picture him sans toque for the rest of the performance. (Which I enjoyed.)


Second opener: Hayden

Oh good grief, Hayden. Hay-den. I enjoyed this so much. I mentioned my favourite song from their set in this post here, and have since listened to it fifty more times - and if I could've had that option at the show too, I probably would've taken it. Yes, please, just go on and play that last one again. Over and over, until we all fall asleep to it. Sobbing.

But I'm glad they played other songs too, not just the one over and over, because it was all so vast and varied musically, and all so good. I always liked the songs of Hayden's that I've heard on the radio and bought off iTunes, but now I like them substantially more. Which usually happens in the case of really good live shows. If this show had sucked, I would probably have deleted all of his music from my library. Make or break, these things are.


And then Dan Mangan and his men emerged from the fog, and I think that was the closest I've ever come to seeing aliens come out of a UFO. But really wonderful aliens though. With great musical dexterity. 


I'd seen Dan Mangan a few years back at the Folk Fest, and that was when I first fell in love with his music, so I was pretty excited that the set included some of my old favourites from Nice, Nice, Very Nice and Oh Fortune as well as stuff off of his 2015 release, Club Meds.

They're one of those bands that are just so fun to watch and listen to, and they played both of the songs that I really needed them to (Starts With Them, Ends With Us and Basket, look them up, please). If they ever come to your city, or a city by your city, or a city by a city that has an airport that flies to and from your city, you need to go see them.


Also: the venue this show was at is amazing. If you're a local, here's some info about it and the fundraising happening right now to restore it.

Sunday, March 08, 2015

No Happy Birthday

The show last night (Dan Mangan + Blacksmith, Hayden, and Astral Swans) was incredible. I have a lot to say about it, but not right now - or today at all, probably. It's Sunday, and it's nap time, and I have a cup of coffee on the go and some heavy-duty relaxing to get up to.

However, I can't wait until tomorrow to share this one thing. It was my favourite moment of the night, and one of the most moving and beautiful moments I've ever witnessed at a live show. Ever. (I'm a fan of hyperbole, you know that, but I'm not employing it right now.)

About halfway through Hayden's set, his band left the stage and he stood there with his acoustic guitar and talked about his daughter, who has a developmental disorder and is completely nonverbal. He spoke about how their house is always full of music, how he plays and sings for her, how her favourite song is Happy Birthday and that this next song he's going to play now is one he wrote for her.

I doubt there was a dry eye in the house as he played (and if there was, my eyes were wet enough to make up for it). The song didn't feel like part of the show. I guess because for that couple of minutes, with his eyes closed and his voice breaking, he wasn't playing for us, he was playing for her, and I felt incredibly lucky to witness it.



I've been waiting, I've been thinking
I've been wanting to sing you this song
I know you may not understand my thoughts
But you will know where it's coming from
Grab your guitar and your maraca
Play with me on your wooden drum
It's no Happy Birthday, but it's my way
Maybe one day you'll sing along

As you go through life, they may be unkind
And I won't always be there by your side
That's on my mind, yeah that's on my mind
That's on my mind almost all of the time

We're always walking in the morning
You look up with your beautiful stare
And you start talking, there's no stopping
You say so much you run out of air
And then we're running to tell your mom and
We never make it back to our street
That's where I wake up, always the same spot
My heart singing a song so sweet

As you go through life, you will bring such light
That's how I picture it most of the time
That's how my mind, yeah that's how my mind
That's how my mind keeps my heart in line

Grab your guitar and your maraca

Play with me on your wooden drum
It's no Happy Birthday, but it's my way
Maybe one day you'll sing along

Friday, March 06, 2015

Lucille and the Morning Edition


If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you already know exactly what I was doing this morning, but I'm going to write about it here as well because I want to.

That's all.

Earlier this week, Julia texted me and asked if I wanted to go to a live taping of CBC's The Morning Edition at 6 AM and I was like, "Heck yes, I live for 6 AM." (I actually do. Stop looking at me like that. Barclay doesn't work until 9, so every once in a while I slip out of the house around 6 and get up to all kinds of shenanigans while he and Sullivan hang out one-on-one. It's a little bit magic, since the streets are empty and the sun is stretching but not rising yet. It's the time of day for intentional people; people who go places at 6 AM aren't messing around. And...I guess I'm one of those people now.)

The taping was at The Artful Dodger, one of my favourite coffee shops in the city, both for its atmosphere and for its coffee. It was great. We had fresh cinnamon buns and coffee and cookies, and we chatted with each other and with the lovely CBC people and there was a little music and some interviews and it was just a really sweet time.


There was also a draw for some Dan Mangan tickets which, I feel compelled to tell you, I really, really wanted to win. I was not subtle about it.

I've wanted to go to this show since I found out it was happening, but just couldn't justify the money it cost. (Budgeting is part of being an adult I guess, but I hate it.) So I did that thing I do where I pretend it's not happening and I'm not missing out on anything but that only works to a point and in the end I just spend the week before and after listening to my favourite songs from the artist and feeling a little bit sad. Or, you know, a lot-tle bit sad.

But then here was this chance to have tickets for free. I entered the draw and glanced around the room. It was, so far, me, Julia, and a table of three elderly people. I had this. I had this in the bag. I got really excited. I was not subtle about it.



And then a whole bunch of other people showed up and someone else won the tickets. A lady. A lady with nice silver hair. A lady with nice silver hair who looked, by the way, like the kind of wonderful, cheery, delightful person who doesn't care about Dan Mangan at all.

But hey, I had a wonderful time and a lot of free coffee and sweets and I also won a tote bag and a mug and a sweet toque just for showing up and saying hi. So. Containers for my stuff and my coffee and my head. What more could I ask for?

(Lucille's Dan Mangan tickets, that's what.)

Anyway, I had to rush out right after the draw so Barclay could get to work, and when I got home I had a Tweet from Stefani Langenegger, the host of this morning's Morning Edition, waiting for me with Lucille's number and a message to give her a call.

Turns out, my character assessment of Lucille was right on the money. We chatted on the phone for a bit and she told me, "I don't care to go to this concert. I don't even know anybody who would. But the lady at the cafe told me that you looked like you would've liked to win those tickets, so you should have them and you should go. All I ask is that you call me on the phone on Monday and tell me how you liked it." So I got out my day planner and wrote "Dan Mangan" on Saturday and "Lucille" on Monday, along with her number.

I think this is the most adorable thing that has ever happened to anyone. All the heart eyes in the world for Lucille and the CBC and Julia and The Artful Dodger and coffee and cookies and tote bags. It's going to be a fantastic weekend. 

Also: how cute is my nephew Charlie in his CBC gear?

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

{reality reality}

What happened today was the closest I will ever come to being on America's Next Top Model.

Just, it wasn't so much a reality TV show as it was a podcast. And it wasn't a competition based on looks so much as it was an...app contest. So basically it was the furthest I will ever be from being on America's Next Top Model.

But it was truly exhilarating, you guys. TRULY.

I was picking Barclay up from work when the results from that contest went live on the Applits website - in the form of a 45 minute-long podcast wherein they discussed all of the top 5 ideas in great detail, voted, and then revealed the winner. At this point, I was fairly positive that I wasn't going to win - life is always easier if you're a pessimist about everything - and I was very ready for it to just be over. Largely because I've been feeling like a pretty huge nerd every time the whole thing comes up in conversation.

(I have really classy friends who have titles like 'Doctor' and 'Nurse' and 'Social Worker' and 'Personal Trainer' and 'Architect' and 'Librarian' and so on. And I'm like, "Well I have a blog. Plus I recently entered this contest online... Yeah, a contest. Like a colouring contest, like what children do, except this one's for grown adults...it's uh...pretty cool... You can vote for me if... Never mind. What were you saying about your professional career that pays you, like, actual money?")

So anyway, I pushed play and set my iPhone in the cup holder and we listened as we drove home together.

And it was so weird. Hearing this panel of judges talk about me and judge my idea, and say out loud my name and things that I wrote... Just strange.

I began to feel like I should be doing those little side interviews that people do on reality TV competitions. I'd be in a room with a black Applits backdrop and I'd be looking all nervous and saying something like, "Yeah, I don't know what's gonna happen. I've really done all I can do, now we just have to wait and see what the judges say about it..." And then they'd try and bait me to trash talk the other contestants, but I wouldn't do it. Because I'm classy. But I don't mind telling you that none of them want this as much as me. And I don't think they're here for the right reasons. And (please cue the sad music) I have a sob story about why I deserve to win and how I'm doing this for my family, not for myself, and I've wanted this and only this since I was, like, three...

No, you watch too much reality TV.

Anyway.

We took the long way home so we could listen to the very end where they announced the winner. Like I said, I never was expecting to make it to this point so I wasn't too heavily invested in it, but I was still jumping up and down in my seat by the end. It was just like that season finale of American Idol... Except, again, nothing like that season finale of American Idol.

I know, as with everything that I put out on social media, that this is infinitely more interesting to me than to any of you, but just FYI in case you feel like living vicariously through me and feeling like a big nerd for a few minutes: they discuss me starting at 14:06, and then again at the end when the voting happens (37:19).

Monday, March 02, 2015

{snow day}


It seems like the weather in this country-shaped refrigerator is finally beginning its jagged ascent up towards zero. I put away my parka yesterday, stuffed it into the very back of the hall closet, and pulled out my Not-Quite-Spring-Not-Not-Winter jacket instead. It was -11 and calm and we celebrated by going tobogganing. 


It was Sullivan's first time ever playing in the snow. He finally fits into his snowsuit and seems old enough to actually enjoy it, so I thought he might think it was cool or neat or fun or something

But as far as I can tell, he didn't really care much about it at all. He assumed an incredibly stoic expression and held it all afternoon with the steady concentration and steadfastness of a guard at Buckingham Palace (only, the guard is a teenager who thinks his job is kind of stupid and just wants to get home and play video games). I pulled him in his sled and he looked at me like, "Why are you doing this?" We set him in a pile of snow and he sat there pawing halfheartedly at it like, "Why am I doing this?" Barclay even took him down the hill in a saucer and he stared straight ahead the whole time like, "Why are we doing this?" 

(Which was pretty much me in every single high school gym class I can remember, so at least he comes by it honestly.)


Julia's son seemed to feel the same level of interest in the excursion, only he was much more passionate about it. After a few harrowing rides down the hill, he decided that his calling was to stand at the top pushing other people down. Julia, ever the thoughtful one in the bunch, made sure to remind him each time that this was THE ONE AND ONLY TIME IN YOUR LIFE THAT IT IS OK TO PUSH SOMEONE DOWN A HILL. 


After a while, our cheeks went from china white to rash red and we decided we should pack it up and in for supper and coffee. And Sullivan was like, "Whatever."