Courtesy of Subversive Cross Stitch
Oh Charlotte, did I reall dress down the man of the house? Or did I merely advocate the esthetics of Joe's coffee albeit passionately??
Monday, October 23, 2006
rebuttal
Courtesy of Subversive Cross Stitch
Oh Charlotte, did I reall dress down the man of the house? Or did I merely advocate the esthetics of Joe's coffee albeit passionately??
the saddest feeling
"The only evidence I have is his socks."
To my deareast most loyal friend.. I am so saddened by your unexpected loss. It is an unbelievable passage in one's life when one of the people responsible for your creation passes on. My heart and my thoughts are with you.
To my deareast most loyal friend.. I am so saddened by your unexpected loss. It is an unbelievable passage in one's life when one of the people responsible for your creation passes on. My heart and my thoughts are with you.
Friday, October 20, 2006
a reason to go to church
Joanna Newsom is coming to Vancouver on the 5th of December, playing at the St. Andrew-Wesley church. Tickets go on sale this Saturday.
Do you want to go with me?
Joanna Newsom - The Book of Right-On (Jools Holland 2004)
update: it was fantatsic!
Do you want to go with me?
Joanna Newsom - The Book of Right-On (Jools Holland 2004)
update: it was fantatsic!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
uh oh
Oh my. I'm in a bit of trouble now that I have found The Curiosity Shoppe. File that kitty under "theraputic internet shopping" straight away. Curb your credit cards people.
I want this and especially this (how sweet) and this and this and this. Well thank god they have free shipping over $200 or I'd be hooped.
I want this and especially this (how sweet) and this and this and this. Well thank god they have free shipping over $200 or I'd be hooped.
receptacle of time
Calling all archivists (hello Catherine, the only person I know that has been carting around a giant pvc rocket shell to "one day" bury as a time capsule). You all should check out this:
The Yahoo Time Capsule
"For 30 days, from October 10 until November 8, Yahoo! users worldwide can contribute photos, writings, videos, audio — even drawings — to this electronic anthropology project. A mosaic of revealing snapshots will be sealed and entrusted to Smithsonian Folkways Recordings based in Washington D.C., officially taking its place in history."
You can view my entry here. Forever recorded until some future intelligent being sifts through the thousands of entries and finds mine. By then we'll be making flour in a lab and the top soil will have long blown off the Alberta prairies, leaving behind the great "Canadian Shield Desert".
I thought I'd leave something for posterity too. Go! Leave your mark.
The Yahoo Time Capsule
"For 30 days, from October 10 until November 8, Yahoo! users worldwide can contribute photos, writings, videos, audio — even drawings — to this electronic anthropology project. A mosaic of revealing snapshots will be sealed and entrusted to Smithsonian Folkways Recordings based in Washington D.C., officially taking its place in history."
You can view my entry here. Forever recorded until some future intelligent being sifts through the thousands of entries and finds mine. By then we'll be making flour in a lab and the top soil will have long blown off the Alberta prairies, leaving behind the great "Canadian Shield Desert".
I thought I'd leave something for posterity too. Go! Leave your mark.
My agent won't allow me to publish my homework until the movie deal is finalized.
Charlotte, the lovely novelist who kindly decided to move upstairs so I could rock out in the best.apartment.ever has found her way out of her blog's bermuda triangle and has blogged once again. It may take a while but when she does post, she really pulls it out.
This time it's about 91 ways to respond to literature or as she put it:
"designed to enliven the good old book report, and to disguise the fact that public school English text selections are porridgey and boring."
Suddenly grade 4 and the book report (one of many) I was forced to write about "Jacob Two- Two Meets the Hooded Fang" just came rushing back.
As I peruse the 91 ideas to enliven the literary response, I came across a few "wish I could have done that assignement instead" items. For example:
#22.MAKE LIFE-SIZED PAPER-STUFFED ANIMALS, PEOPLE, OR OBJECTS FOUND IN A BOOK. Yes I would have enjoyed a giant hooded fang in my bedroom.
#42.COOK A FOOD MENTIONED IN YOUR BOOK. The article kindly says "It is always fun to share something to eat. Please cook your recipe at home." Or what, I would have brought a giant pot with gruel to school?
This one is really great
57.RETURN TO THE FUTURE. As Jacob at 25 years years old haunted with nerosi from run ins with a make believe demon. I would ahve enjoyed that as well.
If only I was allowed this level of creativity as a child, the book diaramas I dreaded and the hand written book reports where I AGONIZED over making sure I had the required 300 words and 1 inch margins, would not be a part of my repitore of childhood memories that make me physically wince and shudder.
By the way Charlotte, if you read this, take a look this gem of a website when you might need a handy reason why not.
This time it's about 91 ways to respond to literature or as she put it:
"designed to enliven the good old book report, and to disguise the fact that public school English text selections are porridgey and boring."
Suddenly grade 4 and the book report (one of many) I was forced to write about "Jacob Two- Two Meets the Hooded Fang" just came rushing back.
As I peruse the 91 ideas to enliven the literary response, I came across a few "wish I could have done that assignement instead" items. For example:
#22.MAKE LIFE-SIZED PAPER-STUFFED ANIMALS, PEOPLE, OR OBJECTS FOUND IN A BOOK. Yes I would have enjoyed a giant hooded fang in my bedroom.
#42.COOK A FOOD MENTIONED IN YOUR BOOK. The article kindly says "It is always fun to share something to eat. Please cook your recipe at home." Or what, I would have brought a giant pot with gruel to school?
This one is really great
57.RETURN TO THE FUTURE. As Jacob at 25 years years old haunted with nerosi from run ins with a make believe demon. I would ahve enjoyed that as well.
If only I was allowed this level of creativity as a child, the book diaramas I dreaded and the hand written book reports where I AGONIZED over making sure I had the required 300 words and 1 inch margins, would not be a part of my repitore of childhood memories that make me physically wince and shudder.
By the way Charlotte, if you read this, take a look this gem of a website when you might need a handy reason why not.
down but not out
More Kisses Please went out, got drunk, screwed around with its settings and got knocked down. Luckily for me, the sober one of us two, I was able to hoist her back up until she was standing on her own two feel again. Thanks to both Sonia and Catherine for thoughtfully alerting me to the near tragedy.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
thinking of you
I miss your British accent and the way you say funny things like "steady on".
I miss sitting with you at Joe's over "short in a glass" coffee.
I miss the way you play and talk to Ruby.
And I miss the way you snore because I have the whole bed to myself.
xxx
me
Monday, October 16, 2006
get your crafty on
If you enjoy crafty people and the lovely things they make, AND you live in Vancouver, please support the next Craftynest-Vancouver's New Craft Bazaar.
When: Saturday October 21st 2006, 11 am to 5 pm
Where: Legion Auditorium @ The Legion Hall, 2205 Commerical Drive (at 7th Ave), Vancouver, BC, Canada
I hope to one day sell my crafty wares at one of these fine events. So, please support getting crafty!
Sonia? Waht are you doing that weekend?
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
Then and Now
overheard on the way to work
"Letting small planes fly over Manhattan is like letting bicycles on the Interstate."
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Listen to the Listen Bird
If you live in Edmonton (hello Vince!) you may be aware of a little grafitti phenomenon known as the Listen Bird. Maybe you've noticed them and never put 2 and 2 together. Maybe you noticed them and didn't care. Maybe you'll take a look at ALL the photographs collected about the Listen Bird and think "shit, this is kind of neat." Whoever has started the Listen Bird has amassed quite the portfolio and I seriously want everyone to take a look
I hope you do too. Here are some links:
My favorite Listen Bird grafitti found on a grain tarin car in Kansas!
My Listen Bird Set.
Somebody else's.
All Flickr Photos tagged Listen Bird
A blog dedicated to the Listen Bird.
An entire Flickr Group dedicated to the Listen Bird.
The creater .
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
don't mess with texas
I can't provide too many details but I am looking at a quick trip to Dallas to be a guest at a wedding reception of 2 people I have never met.
Update: Okay, here's the deelio. I work for a funny little company, who will remain nameless, lest I get dooced. During my regular scheduled activities, I helped a stranger in a special request to have a proposal message put inside one of the items we produce. The proposal went well, she said yes, and now the couple invited me to the wedding. I asked if I could go and the job said yes. Crazy. Now, I'm off to Dallas to stay in a nice hotel and have a rental car and go to a wedding reception of 2 people I have never met. Am I nuts?
As a friend says.. "only you jillyjillerson. only you."
By the way.. the lovely photo is not mine. The link to the photographer is here.
Monday, October 9, 2006
a toast
I'm back on the family farm in rural Alberta. It isn't really the family farm and it never really was. It's my grandmother's farm. It was my grandmother's. I've spent my entire life visiting these walls, these windows, this land. Back then, at the beginning, my beloved Grandfather was alive. There were kittens and baby cows. Baby birds and baby pigs. Everything was young and healthy and full and free.
My grandfather died when I was 5. I barely remember, I was so young. Vague memories of clutching kittens tightly around their midsection and following my grandfather or sitting on his lap. Loving and protective and warm. He had big hands. That's what I remember. Big weathered hands that smelled funny. Smelled like gasoline, but I didn't know that.
After he died, the farm was never really quite the same but over time, what the farm was became the standard. Visits were made, bread was baked. A grandmother that made my childhood idyllic with hand sewn dolls and hand knit sweaters was visted. Camping trips nearby and just outside the back door. Weiner roasts and burnt marshmallow sticky fingers.
Over the years, I grew up and I grew sullen, less interested in the rural origins of the family. I stayed away. I came back for visits when it was neccessary due to some family gathering. I learned to drive out on the country roads. I was 16 then and I thought my time was better spent getting into trouble than getting close to my cousins.
Later yet when I moved to Calgary, I came back. I came and visited and loved to be here. A refuge from the big city bustle and hustle. The rural landscape captivated me and I took long drives looking for worn out barns and abandoned houses. Looking really for some forgotten treasure. A left behind book, a purse with a crumpled bill or even some piece of furniture small enough to take away and covet. I drove up and down the roads looking for treasure when it was always right there on the farm. The long ago written words of my grandfather on the walls of the barn and garage, the old cabinet with the lists of cows and heifers held; the left behind presence of the best present of all, my grandfather.
More years passed and as I moved further away. My connection to the farm and rural Alberta only grew stronger. Wheat and wild roses weave their way down my arm, etched forever in a tribute to this land. The items I surround myself are are reflections of the farm. The old fruit crates and butter boxes and now the salvaged glass door knobs that opened the doors to these rooms of warmth, love, my childhood and family.
Now, the farm has been sold. My grandmother is leaving when she can, when it is positive and good and the farm has been sold to someone who grew up in the area. Someone that may love it as much as we have all loved it. The scraps have been burned, the writings added to and photographed, the cabinet taken off the wall and washed. Remnents of a childhood stored in the basement moved. The family gathered for one last Thanksgiving and in usual fashion forgot to really thank one another for all the times spent, the experiences had, the love felt. Instead the toast was just simply.. to the farm.
To the farm..I will miss you.
My grandfather died when I was 5. I barely remember, I was so young. Vague memories of clutching kittens tightly around their midsection and following my grandfather or sitting on his lap. Loving and protective and warm. He had big hands. That's what I remember. Big weathered hands that smelled funny. Smelled like gasoline, but I didn't know that.
After he died, the farm was never really quite the same but over time, what the farm was became the standard. Visits were made, bread was baked. A grandmother that made my childhood idyllic with hand sewn dolls and hand knit sweaters was visted. Camping trips nearby and just outside the back door. Weiner roasts and burnt marshmallow sticky fingers.
Over the years, I grew up and I grew sullen, less interested in the rural origins of the family. I stayed away. I came back for visits when it was neccessary due to some family gathering. I learned to drive out on the country roads. I was 16 then and I thought my time was better spent getting into trouble than getting close to my cousins.
Later yet when I moved to Calgary, I came back. I came and visited and loved to be here. A refuge from the big city bustle and hustle. The rural landscape captivated me and I took long drives looking for worn out barns and abandoned houses. Looking really for some forgotten treasure. A left behind book, a purse with a crumpled bill or even some piece of furniture small enough to take away and covet. I drove up and down the roads looking for treasure when it was always right there on the farm. The long ago written words of my grandfather on the walls of the barn and garage, the old cabinet with the lists of cows and heifers held; the left behind presence of the best present of all, my grandfather.
More years passed and as I moved further away. My connection to the farm and rural Alberta only grew stronger. Wheat and wild roses weave their way down my arm, etched forever in a tribute to this land. The items I surround myself are are reflections of the farm. The old fruit crates and butter boxes and now the salvaged glass door knobs that opened the doors to these rooms of warmth, love, my childhood and family.
Now, the farm has been sold. My grandmother is leaving when she can, when it is positive and good and the farm has been sold to someone who grew up in the area. Someone that may love it as much as we have all loved it. The scraps have been burned, the writings added to and photographed, the cabinet taken off the wall and washed. Remnents of a childhood stored in the basement moved. The family gathered for one last Thanksgiving and in usual fashion forgot to really thank one another for all the times spent, the experiences had, the love felt. Instead the toast was just simply.. to the farm.
To the farm..I will miss you.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
keep it simple
I took a little trip down south to Seattle. I took 89 photos. You can view them all here...click this link
The neon ones are some of my favorites.Let me know which ones you liked.
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