tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88368192024-03-07T15:20:36.080-08:00finding cohenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.comBlogger473125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-49088112546082738022010-03-01T22:46:00.000-08:002015-11-14T13:48:16.850-08:00i'm stuck with them, and they're stuck on youwhen i was a kid we lived in the suburbs of victoria in a place called <a href="http://colwood.ca/siteengine/activepage.asp">colwood</a>. it was pretty average, as far as these things go. like many kids back then i was often left unsupervised for afternoons at a time, building forts and attempting to catch cray fish in the stream. there are two places that contain most of my memories from back then, well outside of school, a cemetery and a <a href="http://www.royalcolwood.org/">golf course</a>, both only a stones throw away from my house. the golf course was the more dangerous choice, oddly enough, with the occasional FORE shouted our way. we loved to look for lost balls, under bushes, or in the bottom of creeks. we would collect them, line them up and study their names, titleist and top flite, their colours mostly white, but every now and again there would be a fluorescent one (bright orange and it still got lost, my kind of ball). we loved the element of danger about the golf course, the electric feeling of doing something you aren't supposed to. there was a mystery about it that we couldn't resist.<br />
<br />
my friends and i had a route we always took when we were on the course. first you needed to sneak through the hole in the chain link fence, make sure to look both ways so as to not get caught, and then run as fast as you could to the trees and hide. mostly we walked out in the open without a care, but there were a few spots where you needed to tread carefully, more windows in sight, or the clubhouse looming. where we entered was like that, but once out of the clear we were fine. singing tiffany songs or laughing at some dumb joke. being 10.<br />
<br />
it was a hot day near the end of august when i first saw the building. we hadn't found any balls that day and started to wander off our usual path out of boredom. it was on the far side of the course, an area i had never been to before. it was so huge and regal looking, something out of a book. i wondered why a building like that would be here, in the middle of what had to be the dullest town in the world. all one side was windows, so many panes with stained glass. my friends didn't have any interest, they hardly even noticed, but i couldn't stop looking. i had to look inside, i needed to know what i'd find. i couldn't reach flat footed, so i pulled myself up with the sill to get a view. what i saw was an enormous ballroom, with wood floors and fantastic natural lighting. it was vacant. well not just vacant but in decay, the wallpaper peeling, dust inches thick on everything. in the corner there was a wheelchair turned on it's side, cobwebs filling it's wheels. i was terrified and captivated all at the same time. i still remember the way it felt to look up at the chandelier imagining one thing, and then to look down at something altogether different. i never forgot that, the enormity of it, to me.<br />
<br />
then last week i decided to go into a house that is slated for demolition. the doors had been removed, so my access was relatively painless. i was curious what it looked like inside. i wondered if there would be anything worth photographing. what i found was a house that had been pulled apart from the inside out, pipes and sinks, tiles and windows, all removed for sale or scrap. the power was off leaving only natural light filtering through the space. it had that same magic to it, the beauty and the destruction all mixed together. i came back the next day to photograph it.<br />
<br />
i later told a friend about the house, and the photos, and he told me that it is a thing, a movement of sorts. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_exploration">urban explorers</a>. i guess it makes sense that it would be a thing, i mean, i didn't think i was the first to think of it, but it was neat, to discover something new. to find inspiration in a place you weren't expecting it. now i find myself reading about hdr and exploring wide angle lenses, scouring <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/urbanexploration/pool/">flickr groups</a>, and finding <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cseward/4391014434/">photos like this</a>. there is a beauty in that which has come and then gone, a reminder of our mortality framed in the perfect afternoon light. i would like more of that. preferably without needing a crow bar.<br />
<br />
some of my photos (the whole <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/sets/72157623538543238/">set</a> is here)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4400620354/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2727/4400620354_a580285162.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4400615608/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/4400615608_e5396ee0a6_b.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4400621728/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4033/4400621728_68de647384.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-66294674648093417302010-02-12T23:30:00.000-08:002015-11-14T11:51:55.736-08:00enjoy it!i live in vancouver, so i guess this post isn't going to come as a surprise. it seems to be the thing on everyone's mind. the olympics.<br />
<br />
i swear it was only a few months ago that the city voted (or were asked to vote, i guess) and agreed that we wanted the games . in truth it was years ago now. the signs of their impending arrival were subtle at first, a new building being built, or a billboard, but then it became hard to miss. these days there isn't one bus stop poster or roadside ad that isn't olympic related. most of the buildings downtown are dressed up and ready to sell. they are here, there is no doubt.<br />
<br />
i haven't really been affected personally. i live on the east side of town away from the action and although there is a venue at the university that has caused some rerouting for me, by and large i haven't been negatively affected, or positively either. which has been a bit disappointing. i think i thought that the energy would be so infection that you wouldn't be able to miss it, and although i understand that it may have proved true for some people, i have definitely had to go looking for it.<br />
<br />
it was because of this that i was delighted to learn that the torch would be travelling down broadway last night at the exact hour which i had to kill before meeting friends for dinner. i browsed the used bookstore and watched as the crowds gathered by the dozens, and then hundreds. everyone was wearing red and white, people had their dogs wrapped in flags, or maple leaves painted on their cheeks. there was an energy, it was hard to deny. i started to wonder if i had tissue in my bag, it was looking like i was going to need it ( i cry when the national anthem is sung at hockey games). and then the start of the torch parade arrived and everything changed.<br />
<br />
if you live in canada and went to see it, then this isn't a new story. i was taken aback anyway. there was a hippie on the patio sipping a beer behind me, he told his friend that it felt wrong to be watching this but he felt compelled anyway. it only took a moment before he picked up his beer and went back inside without saying another word. somethings can't be apologized away. you see, the actual torch is proceded by a commerce parade. first comes two rather large heavily branded coca cola trucks that are belting out some base heavy music with young people yip and yapping off the side, the announcer yelling into the air something about the history of the torch and then ending with a reminder that coke is a proud sponsor of the olmpic games. it was so overt and deliberate, it felt dirty. i started to look around at everyone wearing canadian colours and all i could see were coke bottles. it was depressing.<br />
<br />
i realize that this complaint isn't a revelation. the olympics have long been more about selling something than celebrating any true human experience, but to witness all these people filled with a genuine sense of community, something i almost never see anymore, and then to have it infected with reality. it was no good.<br />
<br />
not to lessen the experience, as to be fair, after the rbc dance party truck passed out all their plastic branded paraphernalia and drove on, and we came to the actual torch that was passed from one unbranded human hand to to another it had a certain magic to it, a connection with something larger. and it was worth it. i wish it didn't have to have everything else though. <br />
<br />
tomorrow night i am going downtown to try and catch an outdoor concert. i am looking forward to immersing myself in it all. the crowds, the excitement, the happiness, it is going to be there, right? i have always been in the anti camp, like so many vancouverites i don't think it was the right thing for us in this economy and with our social problems. this isn't a unique opinion, it seems more people feel this way than the other. i have decided though, since it is here and done, that i should allow myself to be open for something great. <br />
<br />
wish me luck!thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-47785684337710337282010-02-10T21:19:00.000-08:002015-11-14T11:51:12.143-08:00to all the planets and all the stars and back again<center>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4347142165/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/4347142165_51ccace2e8.jpg" height="450" width="300" /></a></center>
<br />
<br />
22 months. i won't say that it seems just like yesterday because everyone says that, and besides, we all know it is true. she isn't a baby anymore. she is a full fledged strongly opinionated, walking, talking, little girl machine. if cohen has a special place because he is the one that came after, the one that brought me back my joy, then she has one for reflecting myself back at me. i see so much of myself in her, some of it in looks, but mostly in her ways. she isn't easy with her smiles and if you walk in to a room she will probably run behind my leg, but she will peek out and she will consider it. there won't be tears of fear, but quiet contemplation of her next move. after ten minutes she will probably be asking if you want to see her dollys. she doesn't jump head first into anything and my heart is calmer for it. <br />
<br />
she is a clever one. she likes to take off her clothes and change into something else when you aren't watching. it is not uncommon to find her room strewn with clothes that she has put on and decided against. it is always interesting to sit and watch her bring out new outfits, size them up for colour and texture, and then throw the unsatisfactory ones over her shoulder while muttering a "not that one". when it comes to which shoes, or jacket, or pj's you put on her she ALWAYS has an opinion. you are best to listen to it.<br />
<br />
i fear that i am painting a portrait of a princess. i don't think she has verged onto that yet, and rest assured, if she does, her tiara will be taken away. mostly i just think she is a girl in ways i don't think i ever was. it is amazing how much of it is built in. the trains/cars/planes and clothes/dolls/kitchens. it is a constant struggle to allow them to be the thing they are meant to be and to encourage them to consider the other all the same.<br />
<br />
her latest interests take her into the kitchen. she will spend hours at the kitchen sink washing the plastic dishes from ikea, putting them in the drying rack, and then promptly washing them again. she also pretends to make soup on the stove with a variety of items from around the kitchen, including grinding the salt, and breaking the carrots. then when she is done playing she gets down on her knees with the rag and washes the floor where she has been. with an "all done" and a toss of the cloth into the sink she is back into the bedroom to change again.<br />
<br />
she loves books, but isn't so great at sitting through them yet. she usually wants to go get another before the first is done. and so far she seems to show a much stronger inclination towards art and playdough then cohen ever did. this pleases me. i need to have a fridge full of hastily drawn crayon self portraits, it was part of the contract i signed before becoming a parent if i remember correctly. but then i always have been a sucker for art.<br />
<br />
it makes me sad to not be here with her all the time to watch her grow into the person she is becoming, but everyday when i get home she is there at the back door waiting, her arms outstretched, her face in a grin, "how are you mommy?" she yells and everyday i say the same, "i am great now that i am here with you my little bobada" (bo-bay-da). now come on, let's play!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4347888162/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4046/4347888162_6402c6cd7c_b.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-23477100608413096942010-02-09T20:45:00.000-08:002015-11-15T23:26:32.476-08:00if i'd only thought of the right words<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4345754096/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/4345754096_96c6532653_b.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial";">when was the
last time you sat down and wrote something with a pen and paper? was it a list,
or a short note to let someone know how to feed the cat? i wrote my brother a
letter last week and writing the 4 pages made my hand numb. i hadn't written a
letter for more than a year i'm sure. it made me feel sad to realize it. it
feels like i blinked and the world changed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial";">i was walking
on campus the other day and i took a peak in a chemistry class. every student,
and there were a hundred or more in the lecture hall, was on a laptop typing.
what does that feel like? all that clicking and the sea of facebook pages open
while someone talks in vein at the front. you have the whole world right in
front of you with the click of a mouse, there is no need to even look at the
guy beside you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial";">it isn't that i
have a problem with technology, well not entirely anyway, but more about how it
has changed the way we communicate. now a days when you write you can revise,
and then revise some more. you can create the character you want to be. it used
to be that if you were young and you liked someone you would give them a hastily composed note,
or debate calling them for several nights in a row. it wasn’t instant. if you
finally did get up the courage to phone, or pass the note, your hand would be shaking, your words
coming out would be awkward and forced. you would be embarrassed. you would
know by the inflection of their voice whether they liked you or didn’t.
you grew a little every time you did it, by finding the courage and living with
the consequences. if you like someone now you are more likely to send them a
carefully crafted text message, delightful and witty. the perfect
you. if you are lucky they will text back and pretend to be their perfect them,
but you get no tone or context. no emotion. no connection. no truth. you are
left to interpret the story yourself. if they don't share you affection it doesn't matter. the whole experience is empty and easily forgotten. there is no tangible moment to hang on to for later, no experience,
it is just a few words on a screen. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";">it seems like it should be disappointing, but then again what do i know, i can barely even use my phone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";">i need to start writing letters again.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-78690394585262757602010-02-07T22:47:00.000-08:002015-11-14T19:40:45.315-08:00day one<center>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4339516979/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2777/4339516979_fbc510e859_b.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a></center>
<br />
10:49 on a sunday night, i should probably be sleeping. at the very least i should probably go put the clean sheets on the bed instead of writing here. there is always something else that i should be doing. that i should have done. i slept in this morning until after 10, i can live on the edge and stay up a little tonight. now if only i had something interesting to say*. i take that back, i think i have a lot of interesting things to say, i am just not certain how one goes about saying them. practice and perfect they say.<br />
<br />
i got ambitious tonight. it happens every now and again. usually it involves me coming up with some kind of creative project, completing a quarter of it before opting for a long hot bath and wine instead. sometimes i go back to the project, usually i don't though, which is why i recently purchased a bookshelf that houses, almost exclusively, my unfinished projects. i guess you could say that the shelf itself is a finished project though, i mean it got put up and has stuff on it, can't ask for more from a shelf. my ambition tonight though was of a culinary nature.<br />
<br />
i periodically get together with a couple of friends and have a cook off. we drink booze, chop vegetables, and eat chocolate covered bon bons. in the end we have 12 meals to take home for our freezer. we each bring the ingredients for six of each of two meals. we wear aprons and talk about mad men. i think it is just as much about connecting with a past that doesn't exist anymore as it is about the food. it has been awhile since we got together though, and my freezer was empty, so i decided to have a party of one, well one and a lot of food. i didn't talk about mad men (although i might have had a moment where i thought about don draper) and there were no bon bons, but i had the booze and there was plenty of chopping.<br />
<br />
when i first started working at ubc i was a clerk b in the admissions office. there was no clerk a, so b was as low as it got. my tasks were primarily made up of opening mail and filing dockets. it took zero skill and almost no mental effort on my part. i think it might still be the best job i have ever had. the filing was my favourite. hundreds of envelopes coloured coded and numerical waiting to find their home, the perfect spot just for them. there is a rhythm to filing that i never appreciated before, a meditation to it. my thoughts seemed to flow easily through the act. i am sure that if i had to do it for the rest of my life the story would read different, but i knew it wasn't forever, just a term position of 5 months, and i loved it. <br />
<br />
chopping is not unlike filing. when chopping is combined with watching jon hughes' movies, it can be downright spiritual. so i chopped my way through some kind of wonderful, and sauteed for most of pretty in pink, and now my freezer is full. time to oneself to simply get lost in thought is a rare thing when you are in possession of two toddlers, but then maybe i don't have to tell you that? it is why i love my commute everyday, and also why i love cooking. <br />
<br />
the end result was (and i include this list here as i have tried all of these recipes and they are great, so maybe you would like them too):<br />
<br />
3 <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/chicken-enchiladas-with-creamy-green-sauce">chicken enchiladas**</a><br />
3 <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Spinach-Cheese-Manicotti/Detail.aspx">spinach cannelloni</a><br />
4 jars of chorizo spaghetti sauce<br />
2 <a href="http://www.recipezaar.com/Delicious-Chicken-Pot-Pie-10744">chicken pot pies</a><br />
4 <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2008/08/cooking-with-pastor-ryan-delicious-mexican-lasagna/">mexican lasagna***</a><br />
<br />
now take a moment to imagine what my kitchen looked like after this. the stovetop alone was enough to make me want to run for the hills. so tell me, do you have any good recipes for the freezer? (and if this seemed to end abruptly it is because i am feeling guilty about the sheets!)<br />
<br />
*although incredibly riveting, this post is not the most interesting thing i have to say (i swear)<br />
**this is all cream and no veg so i add corn, red pepper and peas<br />
***if you make this please note that her recipe makes enough to serve and entire congregation at her church, i am not kidding, well ok, i am kidding a little, but it is a LOTthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-6676426010726699602010-01-23T16:19:00.000-08:002015-11-14T16:54:00.750-08:00everything that happens is from now on<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4303054734/" title="crossing by green shade, on Flickr"><img alt="crossing" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4303054734_27dcf88ea0.jpg" height="300" width="450" /></a><br />
<br />
i am home alone on a saturday afternoon. being alone at the house is probably the rarest of time, something almost never seen, and yet, here i am. my computer is in a little sunroom that was added on after this house was built, the floor is tile and the walls are yellow (or buttercup if you prefer). through the windows i can see north to the mountains and west to the ocean (i only know it's there in memory though, i can't actually see it). this means the sunset is my entire view at the end of the day, the birds migrating by the dozens to their overnight perch, silhouetted by the brilliant hues. i only get to see this two days a week, most days it is dark already before i get here. i love to just sit and watch the crows, i think this is partly why i am so fond of <a href="http://vimeo.com/3198645">this</a>. the starlings do this here too, circle around and around. i think one day i will have to make my own video.<br />
<br />
the other day someone said that they were going to have a look at my blog to get to know me better. it made sense in context, i mean it was someone who i first got to know through their's, so it only seemed fair, but i couldn't help wonder, what exactly does this place tell someone about me? i don't ever read the archives around here, sometimes i will remember a specific entry and search it out, but mostly history is history, which is probably how it should be. never the less i was inspired to go in and search around the other night. i was amazed to see the things i wrote before i had kids, it was a completely different place. no one knew it existed so i didn't worry too much about how it was perceived. i remember feeling different about it later though, after the kids were born. i have often struggled with this space. i was tired of writing about my stay at home mom life, not because that life isn't worthy, but because my heart wasn't in it and really, i had nothing new to say. i tried just photos for awhile, but this isn't the best venue for that either, so then i just stopped (with the occasional putter along the way), which brings us to last wednesday night and me reading my archives. it was such a great exercise, to put it all out there and see the line from there to here, it made me feel like i had accomplished something.<br />
<br />
the earlier entries made me want to do it again, to make the quiet time to write fiction, or semi-fiction anyway. to be creative with words (and photos) again. this blog used to be called <i>the way people run</i>, which is probably what it should still be called, so i thought i would do a retrospective of the 10 posts i think represented each person i have been along the way and how i have run. the title of the links here were inspired by the <a href="http://www.smithmag.net/sixwords/">6 word memoir movement</a>. <br />
<br />
4.25.2005: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-seems-simple-in-moonlight-in.html">i'm the best part of lonely</a><br />
5.11.2005: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2005/05/times-thief-you-know.html">tomorrow i'll be something altogether different</a><br />
9.01.2005: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-you-could-be-anywhere-right-now.html">forever looking back i ignore tomorrow</a><br />
9.12.2005: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2005/09/used-to-mean-alot-mean-alot-to-me-now.html">a minute's enough to change everything</a><br />
9.22.2005: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2005/09/old-tin-cups-and-little-paper-dolls.html">i came from there, here's better</a><br />
2.09.2006: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2006/02/assignment-numero-uno.html">into the light we start again</a><br />
6.23.2006: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2006/06/one-week.html"> it wasn't the same before you</a><br />
11.22.2006: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2006/11/then-rain-let-up-and-sun-came-up-we.html">the trees loss was my gain</a><br />
6.22.2007: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2007/06/it-takes-two-and-it-used-to-take-only.html">that first year changed everything after</a><br />
12.21.2008: <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.ca/2008/12/there-is-no-end-in-sight.html">there is no end in sight</a><br />
<br />
i just realized that there wasn't anything about <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2749/4137605306_23eae1385a_b.jpg">ada</a> in those ten. mostly it is because after she came my life was a blur, a whirling cloud of chaos for so long. she holds this special place inside me, the way she reflects back on myself in so many ways. the post about that is yet to come though, so to be true to the story i should include <a href="http://lookingforgalena.blogspot.com/2008/07/hardest-part.html">this one</a>.<br />
<br />
so that's where <a href="http://tara.cognistudio.com/birdshirt.jpg">i</a> have been. i still don't know what it says about me though: that i have an unusually strong affection for the past? that as a person i could work harder at being less sad? that i am hopeful about what's ahead? all of them true and of course just part of the story. <br />
<br />thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-68743113674572853462009-10-18T22:47:00.001-07:002009-10-19T08:55:32.138-07:00a stitch in timei started a new project last night. i decided more than a year ago that i would like to make ada a quilt out of marko's old shirts. i put word out and slowly those shirts that were torn or stained fell into my fabric pile. i procrastinated on the actual making using the perennial "tomorrow" as my excuse, but then the other night ada woke up 3 times in the night from what i suspected might be the cold, and i decided that i needed to get on it, the great shirt quilt wasn't going to make itself. as for where i got the idea, i am not sure if i am reading too many blogs where women seem to miraculously turn something old and worn out into something new and wonderful, but i am aspiring to something, letting the warmth of delusion soothe me. so last night i was here watching the 30 rock premiere and cutting up the first of what has now become several shirts, and i got thinking about sewing and i, our rocky journey together. <br /><br />i remember the first time i ever saw a quilt. wait, what i mean to say is that i remember the first time i ever SAW a quilt. i was with my brother, aaron, and we were at his friend's apartment. i was still in high school, he had just escaped. it wasn't an apartment that his friend lived in with her parents, it was an apartment of her own (well, with roommates) and it seemed so exotic and wonderful. i remember parts of it now and in truth it was mostly poorly lit and thrift store-ish, but back then it was something. truly, it was. i wasn't there long before i noticed the quilt sitting all alone in the corner. it wasn't even a real one, at least not what you are thinking. it was scrappy and smelled a little musty, mostly it was a mess, but i loved it. the creator had just taken old clothes, and sheets and cut uneven strips, some oddly elongated triangles, or rectangles that narrowed sharply at the ends, and had sewn them together with seemingly zero regard for colour, or texture, or flow. it was a fury of velvet and denim. so uninviting, and yet there was an energy to it that drew me in. i remember sitting a good part of the night staring at the sunken chair it called home. i thought about it later too, weeks and months after i saw it, long past the point in which i forgot the face of the friend who owned the home. it was the quilt that stayed. i was never quite sure why.<br /><br />when i graduated from university my mom asked me what i would like as a gift. i got thinking about the quilt again, about how it must feel to make something with your hands, to place together all those colours and textures, to lay it all out and seal it with a stitch. i knew nothing about sewing, not one thing, i was a band student, we didn't have to take home ec, but i asked for a machine anyway. i would learn.<br /><br />i had my machine for more than a year before i even took it out of the box. i was a bit nervous, so much expectation. thinking about a painting, or photograph, or quilt, is quite different than making one. i wasn't a fool, i understood this. as luck would have it though one day i happened upon a small out of the way sewing machine store and decided to go in. there was a lovely old lady in there (she looked just the way you are imagining complete with kittens on her apron) and she told me to come back with my machine and she would show me the basics. i was so excited i think i skipped the whole way home. and so it was in this way that i first learned how to fill my bobbin, and thread my machine, what a foot is and how to alter the tension. i was already making quilts in my head and they were wonderful.<br /><br />what i didn't count on was all the stitch ripping and uneven rows, the unpredictable shrinkage, broken needles, and jammed machines. sewing is mostly about swearing and rage in the beginning, or at least it was for me. it was hard to see the colours and textures from the tears. i persevered though, through one, two, three full size quilts that were mediocre at best. i am sure none of them exist today, they didn't have what it takes to last. they were given to my boyfriend, my brother and my other brother respectfully. i was glad that each of them liked their quilts but i still felt defeated, they weren't what i intended, not entirely, i wished they had been something more. i wonder if the person who made that first quilt felt the same? i wish i knew where she was so i could tell her that to me it was perfect. to me it was the thing that made me make quilts in my head, even if it wasn't going to last and didn't have a colour scheme. i think she probably would have liked to know that.<br /><br />i have since gone on to make a dozen or so quilt, but i have yet to make the one that i think is worthy of my dreams. part of it is knowledge, there is so much i don't know and i have never really had anyone to ask*, and part of it is patience and precision, two concepts that are key in sewing, neither of which i have ever been very good at. i don't know what will happen with the shirt quilt, maybe one day i will write about it and then you will think of me as one of those eco-bloggers that are able to reuse everything in their house, right down to their underwear (not really), or maybe i will end up with hundreds of perfect little squares that sit in a box, reminding me of who i long to be, always waiting for the next try.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/4025485454/" title="IMG_0385.jpg by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2769/4025485454_762ac4d5a3.jpg" width="400" height="290" alt="IMG_0385.jpg" /></a></center><br /><br />* i now know kim over at <a href="http://www.milkybeer.blogspot.com/">milky beer</a> who is a fantastic quilter, and will hopefully come and show me how to properly bind the shirt quilt, if i ever finish it!thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-84328136705855421102009-10-09T13:21:00.000-07:002009-10-09T18:20:51.295-07:00i come from a land of plentyI am sitting here in my cubicle, the sound of fingers clicking on keyboards tapping me through the morning. The hum of the fluorescent lights a fitting backdrop to the upholstered walls and utility carpet. It isn’t bad though, I mean no one here calls me mom and if they want juice they get their own, or at the very least aren’t expecting me to do it, which is a refreshing change. I have been back here, at work, for three weeks now. If I said the weeks have been long I would be lying, they have flown by. The days seem to end before they begin, it must be the newness, the novelty. I don’t expect that to last. <br /><br />Being back at work means being back to sitting all day though. Sitting, sitting, sitting and then, once the mood strikes, getting up and fetching a tiny chocolate bar (or three) from the snack bowl, or how about one of those girl guide cookies, it is for a good cause after all! And then I go back to sitting. And so it goes. <br />It only took about a week before I started to realize that the sitting could be a problem (I bought all those new clothes, in a size 8, I can’t bust out of them yet!), and so last night I hauled myself to the community centre (which is half a block from our new house) for the 8:15-9pm aquafit class. It might have been the best thing I did all week.<br /><br />I managed to make it through the maze of hallways that led into the change room, wading through dozens of exuberant children fresh from their lesson, past overflowing showers and curtained stalls, finally making it out to the pool. It wasn’t much bigger than a hotel pool, and the lights were all out but for one which shone down right in the middle, like an aqua disco. As my feet made their entrance I was delighted to feel warmth between my toes, it wasn’t hot tub warm mind you, but enough that one wasn’t jarred awake. It was right about then that I realized that the 20 or so people in the water were all over 65, every one of them, and they were all staring at me with looks that seemed to suggest I was maybe in over my head, or at least in a place where I maybe didn’t belong. I hesitated, but only for a moment, I wanted to see this through. What’s the worst that could happen?<br /><br />As we sat waiting for the class to start I surveyed the crowd. It amazed me how much the dynamic mimicked what you would see in a high school class. There was the old Italian guy that the ladies seemed to take a liking to, he was standing directly under the light, three women laughing loudly at his side. Attentive to his witty words, their body gestures lively. Then off in the corner was an Eastern European man staring him down, jealous that even now after all this time he still didn’t have what it took to make the ladies laugh, or maybe he was sad that he lost it? The asian ladies were off in their own corner warming up with enthusiastic over the head hand claps and loud chatter, happy to be out with girlfriends, so much to say. The asian men seemed more content to tread water while holding onto the side of the pool, large kicks and water splashing everywhere. Then there was me, alone, watching it all take place. At the very least it became clear that any shortfall in co-ordination on my part was likely to go unnoticed.<br /><br />The instructor showed up and she too gave me a glance, maybe it was a double take, I couldn’t read what it meant. I buckled up and found a spot where I could see her. As she went for the stereo I was imagining traditional Chinese music (a staple of this particular community centre, and rightfully so) or maybe something adult contemporary but upbeat, perhaps a remix? It turns out it was full on techno and right from the get go it was all hands on deck. The moves were complicated and challenging and at one point I think I had to catch my breath. As you might expect the rest of the crowd was mostly just doing their own thing, following along when it seemed possible, walking in place when it didn’t. This wasn’t really about exercise for them, well not in the same way it was for me, it was about getting out and being social. Being able to say you left the house. There were moments when we had to move ourselves from one side of the pool to the other with sweeping side steps and complicated arm moves, the result was mostly people crashing into each other and then everyone staying in one spot out of fear. I moved up, closer to the instructor and wildly side stepped away. <br /><br />It should be mentioned that the cardio room looks onto the pool. The demographic in there seemed much the same. There was an older man wearing not only a thick fleece hoody, but also a winter parka with the hood up while he pedaled away on a stationary bike. He seemed to be with a companion who rode the bike to his right, he was reading the sing tao out loud as he leaned heavily on his handle bars. I watched them intently as I lunged and arm flexed, a remix of land down under blaring over the system now (ah ha!). It was a scene almost too perfect, too comical to believe. There was even a lady who I suspect to be in her 70’s trying to work the rowing machine. After 40 minutes the wind down started and half the pool emptied, not much interest in strength training I guess. I was glad to be rid of the loud beat of the booming music (although I do like to sing “vegemite sandwich…”) and happy to welcome a little death cab for cutie and radiohead. It would have been relaxing if those ladies hadn’t started chatting again, oh well it’s their class, no need to rock the boat on my first day.<br /><br />When it was over and the arm floats had been put back in the bin, I decided to try my luck at the sauna. It was a mostly male crowd, younger. I entered midway through a discussion about the Chinese calendar. Apparently, if you are born in the year of the pig it is better to be born between 6-9pm, then you will have a good life, anything in the morning and you are in trouble. I laughed when I heard it, and just like that I was part of the discussion. After admitting that I had no idea what year I was born in I was promptly told I was a rabbit. Very smart and wise is the rabbit, your face is a good face, a nice chin; you will live a good life! I guess good is pretty subjective really, and who am I to say he is wrong, I am not even halfway yet (I hope). Eventually the soothsayer left the wooded room and everyone laughed at his expense. The message was clear, he was a nut. It might be true, but I couldn’t help but say: “I don’t know, isn’t it better to believe in something rather than nothing?” It stopped the crowd in their tracks, and after a pause everyone agreed with nods and mumbles. Of course that opened myself up for a discussion about Christianity, which I should have seen coming considering the crowd, but I didn’t mind. It felt like community, and I liked that.<br /><br />So what was the point? Maybe that you shouldn’t dismiss a party based on the crowd. Or maybe it's about opening oneself up to new experiences, how pleasant surprises are waiting for us all over the place if we choose to look. I need to do it more often. One thing’s for sure, I know where I will be next Thursday.thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-34203487911556153672009-05-09T00:48:00.000-07:002009-05-09T00:49:02.396-07:00light of the...<img src="http://tara.cognistudio.com/lightofthe.jpg">thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-57670627097461417482009-05-07T21:46:00.000-07:002009-05-07T21:47:53.611-07:00i love a rainy night<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3512316928/" title="rainy nights by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3400/3512316928_e9a5d4d477_b.jpg" width="450" height="298" alt="rainy nights" /></a>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-75995076533751124172009-05-02T23:31:00.000-07:002009-05-02T23:32:19.357-07:00duct tape<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3495675563/" title="duct tape by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3660/3495675563_9fabda8265.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="duct tape" /></a></center><br />never leave home without it.thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-83941207497114052772009-04-27T19:21:00.000-07:002009-04-27T19:22:50.656-07:00party of one<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3482122680/" title="party of one by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3336/3482122680_0eaf3d4b1e_b.jpg" width="300" height="471" alt="party of one" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-70817309209240480252009-04-26T21:31:00.000-07:002009-04-26T21:32:04.750-07:00<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3478280463/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3330/3478280463_6bfea3e891_b.jpg" width="300" height="450" alt="" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-80767999799996058752009-04-26T12:01:00.000-07:002009-04-26T12:02:46.059-07:00<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3477369942/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3627/3477369942_0a9ab24e34_b.jpg" width="300" height="450" alt="" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-27400222812843700062009-04-22T20:49:00.000-07:002009-04-22T21:31:42.239-07:00maia's day<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3466099504/" title="maia's day by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3573/3466099504_a895d02317_o.png" width="450" height="670" alt="maia's day" /></a><br />at first i put five candles, but then marko said it didn't seem right, sadder somehow, a reminder of all the time that has passed without her. so one, a yellow one, the colour of stars in children's books, the sun, and the centre of daisy's. just one sitting there right in the middle, just as she does within me.<br /><br />happy birthday to you, my little maia.thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-75442377034447346282009-04-15T22:04:00.001-07:002009-04-15T22:37:34.729-07:00visit from old friendsthere is nothing quite like it.<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3446064457/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3588/3446064457_4065dac5c9_b.jpg" width="450" height="300" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3446133739/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3648/3446133739_a2b00cabab_b.jpg" width="450" height="259" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3446049437/" title="Untitled by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3400/3446049437_db95e383bf_b.jpg" width="450" height="320" alt="" /></a><br />apparently ada is one of those people that have to be in every photo, who knew?thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-16764928891190121642009-04-13T23:42:00.000-07:002009-04-13T23:43:33.903-07:00easter weekend<center><object width="400" height="300"> <param name="flashvars" value="offsite=true&lang=en-us&page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2F82468924%40N00%2Fsets%2F72157616740705424%2Fshow%2F&page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2F82468924%40N00%2Fsets%2F72157616740705424%2F&set_id=72157616740705424&jump_to="></param> <param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=70717"></param> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=70717" allowFullScreen="true" flashvars="offsite=true&lang=en-us&page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2F82468924%40N00%2Fsets%2F72157616740705424%2Fshow%2F&page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2F82468924%40N00%2Fsets%2F72157616740705424%2F&set_id=72157616740705424&jump_to=" width="400" height="300"></embed></object></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-62026369402690668562009-04-11T22:52:00.001-07:002009-04-11T22:52:32.511-07:00full moon<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3432725300/" title="full moon by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3364/3432725300_ff41da55f7_b.jpg" width="450" height="300" alt="full moon" /></a>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-3702688887278292672009-04-10T21:04:00.000-07:002009-04-10T21:08:43.698-07:00you only turn one oncei know that it would have been better to get a photo of her smiling, or looking at the camera, heck, even one without fingers in her mouth would have been ok, but alas she is not an easy one to photograph, so for now this will have to do. i am pretty sure it is more true to who she really is anyway. we are having some family over tomorrow, and we will eat cake, hopefully there will be plenty of smiles then! <br /><br />i will also round up her monthly pictures before the weekend is up, so we can all take a walk down memory lane. <br /><br />but since today is the day, happy birthday to you my sweet little ada! <br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3430873848/" title="one year by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3383/3430873848_710023878b.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="one year" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-3451628144215004292009-04-09T23:48:00.000-07:002009-04-09T23:49:16.150-07:00bumping up and down in my...<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3427750597/" title="little red wagon by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3597/3427750597_b1e9a46ce0.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="little red wagon" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-78075075506418022742009-04-09T23:42:00.000-07:002009-04-09T23:43:50.530-07:00seawall saturday<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3428550318/" title="seawall saturday by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3360/3428550318_aa9d4657b9.jpg" width="340" height="500" alt="seawall saturday" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-3630821635870029072009-04-09T23:33:00.000-07:002009-04-09T23:42:02.937-07:00shadows and tall trees<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3428541360/" title="shadows and tall trees by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3338/3428541360_070deeddf2.jpg" width="322" height="500" alt="shadows and tall trees" /></a></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-16181067662113661782009-04-08T22:00:00.000-07:002009-04-08T23:30:54.420-07:00first haircut<center><img src="http://tara.cognistudio.com/cut.jpg"></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-6464823263757431292009-04-02T23:03:00.001-07:002009-04-02T23:04:02.635-07:00row on row<center><img src="http://tara.cognistudio.com/rowonrow.jpg"></center>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836819.post-13910242092741842712009-03-31T14:47:00.000-07:002009-03-31T14:49:06.067-07:00season opener<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3402070025/" title="tonka by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3547/3402070025_90330de2ba.jpg" width="450" height="235" alt="tonka" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/82468924@N00/3402862042/" title="horsey by green shade, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3431/3402862042_83a4d486e7_b.jpg" width="450" height="257" alt="horsey" /></a>thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17526634872181869258noreply@blogger.com2