Way to leave things on a depressing note, eh?

Just so this will make a bit of sense, I’ve been in Hawaii. I’ll be posting backward for the next few.

Okay so, of the final playoff round between the Canucks and the Bruins I missed one game of the seven. I happened to be in an airplane, 36,000 feet above earth and watched up to 2nd period before we lost the satellite feed. The first thing the pilot said as he came on the speaker to announce our descent was that he had terrible news regarding the Canucks score: 8 – 1 Bruins. The whole plane felt like it heaved in horror as its passengers were made up of mostly Vancouverites. People looked at each other, some put their hands to their mouths. How the hell can we win the first two games and lose so badly during the third? 1 – 0 Canucks, 3 – 2 Canucks, then 8 – 1 Bruins? 8 – 1 is not 2 – 1. Games 4, 5, and 6 we caught in Hawaii, then, I was home for Game 7.

At the start of Game 7 day I had no idea where I was going to catch the game. I started out with a few options and for about half an hour in the late afternoon one plan was confirmed with Nick to go down town to catch the game on the outdoor screens amidst the fandemonium. This plan was subsequently un-confirmed and I was left sitting on my sofa watching the first period by myself hoping to come to some kind of conclusion soon over what I was going to do. I decided I was going to go down town by myself. By that time time was of the essence and I knew there were people I knew down town so I texted them all in the hopes that they’d somehow be able to feel or hear my calls and texts and give me their coordinates for a meet-up. I left knowing that the chances of me finding someone were slim but I kept telling myself that if the Canucks win the Stanley Cup on that very day then down town Vancouver, the centre of it all, would become something unforgettable to me.

I was still living in Ottawa when the Senators made it to the finals against the Mighty Ducks in 2007. It was the first time the Sens had made it to the finals in 80 years. The last time being in 1927. This was a big deal for Ottawa. The Sens were defeated in Game 5 and much like Vancouver, Ottawa’s down town streets had been completely shut down to traffic for the entire final round. Elgin Street was coined ‘Sens Mile’ and received its “official” street sign.

© breakfastblogger.com

I was down town for that last game – we all knew that it could very well be the Sens’ last. And, it was. We lost that game and subsequently the Stanley Cup. People cried, some hugged, then the streets cheered regardless, and in solidarity, then eventually emptied out by late night and life carried on without incident.

When the Canucks lost it was the complete opposite and boy, was it ever unforgettable…

I took the SkyTrain to the Stadium stop which was a few blocks away from the Georgia and Hamilton intersection otherwise known as the “Fan Zone.” Facing me as I came down Georgia was the back of a huge screen TV mounted on a bus. The intersection was blocked off with blue fencing so I had to go around it to enter the area where all the fans were smooshed together. Somehow, I managed to squeeze and coil all 5’4″ of me through a deep crowd of hot people. I had no idea where I was going, all I knew was that I wanted to see the screen. I was guilty of rubbing up against people in ways that would have otherwise been extremely inappropriate in a grocery store aisle for example, but I was on a mission without destination. Eventually, I found myself on the steps of the Canada Post building on the northwest side of Georgia, kitty-corner to the CBC building. About eight steps up and I was then on the platform and could see the screen. I was also under a ledge which was nice because the sun was high and hot and being showered with its rays would have been horrible given how much body heat was being given off.

I remember stopping there once I found my spot just to look around. I remember the smell of beer and sweaty body but there was enough of a breeze every so often so it didn’t stagnate too badly. I saw goal two scored by the Bruins, and by goal three I remember the crowd’s energy had noticeably changed. One young man at the bottom of the steps began spit-screaming in the direction of the screen and punching the railing. Plastic bottles started soaring through the air and landing on various heads in the crowd at my feet. I remember texting a couple of my friends right then and there and telling them that I would not be surprised if there was a riot – I could feel it.

Come the 4th, empty-net goal more bottles and other objects were flying around. The crowd was getting restless having to dodge these flying objects. Before I knew it, the young girl beside me yelled “Oh my god they’re flipping that SUV!” I looked over and there was a silver SUV being rocked back and forth by a group of men, it was eventually flipped right onto its side then, right onto its back. I started taking photos and videos around then. It was starting. Admittedly, at that moment, I did question whether or not I should stick around. Part of me wanted to mainly out of honest interest also because I’m a shameless voyeur. I also wanted to see just how crazy these young people were actually going to get; you know, being my first riot and all. I was up off the street too and more or less “sheltered” from what was going on below me so had a good view. Little did I know that eventually I would not be able to leave even if I wanted to and that the activity would become dangerously worse.

The flipped SUV was a ways away from me but still close enough to see the faces of the people jumping on it and screaming like gorillas in the mist. I felt terrible for the owner of the SUV (who, as I later found out on the news, actually instigated the flipping of his own car) but also found the crowd’s subsequent reactions quite interesting and highly peculiar. They were starting to roar in unison. Fists started being pumped into the air as if at front row of a Megadeath concert. People began to climb up onto the under carriage of the SUV (which was now facing the sky) and jumped up and down on it with as much glee as children on a backyard trampoline. The front bumper was stomped off and was then tossed through the air from person-to-person just like a beach volleyball. The crowd roared and heaved. With every new, destructive assault inflicted upon the vehicle, the cheers and roars would elevate in decibels. I remember stopping to think about all this around that time. I had witnessed this crowd go from togetherness and anticipation for a Stanley Cup win, to the start of total anarchy and complete disregard for personal property. Not to mention how fast the destructive crowd grew in numbers. By this point it was easy to differentiate between those who had actually anticipated, if not instigated, the riot as they were donning bandannas over their faces and those who had actually started their day as bonafide fans. They wore Canucks jerseys, and had logo tattoos on their cheeks, aluminum foil-made Stanley Cups, blow horns. But, eventually the aluminum foil Stanley Cups became projectiles and the butts of the blow horns would be used to help smash any glass that was around.

The entire scene unravelled into something that reminded me of Lord of the Flies. This analogy was also adopted in the media and in daily conversation and I think it’s because that’s exactly what it looked like. It was pretty well the only comparison that immediately came to mind. I don’t want to use the words “mob mentality” in this post because I feel like it’s already received its maximum use in any one-week period but it is what is is. I looked around and was pretty sure over three-quarters of those eventually involved in the full-blown riot would have never, in their wildest dreams, imagined themselves in a riot in their lifetime. But, it was hard to ignore the energy and sensory overload that evening once the rioters’ impulsively swelled to hundreds within minutes and the two vehicles in my immediate sight (one being the SUV, the other being some poor man’s utility truck) were shooting flames to the sky. I saw young men taking turns standing in front of the burning vehicles facing the sky with arms up and fists clenched roaring until they had no air left in their lungs. In addition to Lord of the Flies that part reminded me of some sort of satanic worship with the fire and all.

For a while I was pretty well stuck where I was because the ground below was not safe. There were brawls occurring at the bottom of the steps to my side and fiery bedlam on the ground at my feet. So, I stayed up on my perch for about an hour. I watched the cops come in and attempt to control the situation. I saw the fire truck come in to douse the flames of the SUV. Not too soon after this the utility truck would be next. I saw the cops retreat to the very outskirts of the chaos and figured they were planning something. They later returned with shields, batons, and helmets. The S.W.A.T came out in full gear at the same time and were manning the street while a handful of cops covered the Canada Post building and cleaned house. They wanted no one standing on the raised landing where I was “safe” and whacked everybody off into the streets as if we were all dangerous. Luckily I didn’t get hit by a baton but a photographer was nearly pushed down the stairs and one young woman received a hard whack on her forearm – which made her cry. This part reminded me of Children of the Corn only the sickles were batons, and the children were police officers, and the corn stalks were humans. Luckily, they gave me a chance to jump down onto the steps as the last spectator remaining. Eye-contact and a “Don’t hurt me, I’m fragile” smile works well I find.

Noted for the next riot.

I was now on the street in the middle of it all. This part reminded me of an apocalypse. In a very cliché way, all hell had broken loose. The street fighting had been going on for a while so I was passing people with ripped t-shirts and bloody faces. Some guys were bouncing around like orangutans; almost as though they were in Jolly Jumpers but without the apparatus. The cops had formed a solid line right through the Georgia/Hamilton intersection and the smoke from the empty frames of the simmering vehicles billowed behind them. It was quite a scene. The reinforcement cops in the second row were holding cameras and video cameras to the crowd. They stood motionless and straight-faced. One “rioter” actually had the nerve to walk right up to their line, drop his pants, whip out his peen and actually send a hot stream down at their feet. Still, they stood motionless. I tell you, one quick swoop of a baton would have likely taken care of that man’s arrogant anatomy for the rest of his life.

The Canada Post building was under attack now and people were taking turns running at the glass with a karate kick to shatter it. Eventually a pane broke and again the roars surged.

Backyard firework explosions now competed with the sounds of tear gas booms and the air started to tickle my throat. Unfortunately, I did not bring my trusty riot bandanna to filter out the gas and my mucous membranes were being attacked. I was no longer in my safe place and was traipsing the streets among the fury. It had become hard to breathe and the chaos was as upsetting as it was frightening and I had experienced more than enough. The shock of watching a crowd regress into something out of the stone age had dissipated and upset was taking over. By this point, those who remained were ready to take on the cops and the S.W.A.T. They seemed to have lost all dignity and composure and were pretty well feeding off the chaotic energy like fiends. They looked inhuman. Like zombies almost - especially when the sun had nearly set and everything took on this kind of grey, ominous hue and the smoke from the vehicles, fireworks, and tear gas looked that much more mean and growly.

I heard someone suggest hoisting up the fencing and rushing the S.W.A.T… I walked to the SkyTrain station after that.

The rest of the riot I caught from the cozy confines of my living room. I see the rioters had become more ballsy as night time set in. Looting was in full force, police vehicles were being set on fire, someone fell from the viaduct to the ground below, there were injuries. Poor Vancouver, I kept thinking to myself, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. And, why was it happening? Well I figure it was some kind of psychological trigger that happened. I believe that a handful of people went down town that day with the sole purpose of instigating a riot. I don’t believe they were from Vancouver, especially down town. I believe once it began, the feeling perpetuated – just like how reckless driving can perpetuate on the highways. All you need is one asshole driver tailgating and weaving and it takes another driver with a short fuse to get him back by doing the same. Before you know it, three more drivers are all getting each other back. You ask one of them over dinner at a nice restaurant if tailgating on the highway at high speeds is dangerous and they’ll most likely say yes.

Anyway I could theorize for hours gleefully but, I’ll leave the rest of the psychoanalysis up to the pros…

Ooh, oopsie. My blog has taken a backseat to my living, breathing life. Actually it could have even been straggling behind my living, breathing life for a backseat would mean it’s still relatively close in thought but it really wasn’t.

At any rate, I’ve had a busy month or so and it’s funny because if I look back at one of my more recent posts, where I started doing that puzzle like a grandma, things were just plodding along then. Although I can tell you the exact moment life livened because it was when I finally finished that puzzle and realised I only had 499 of the 500 pieces. 99.8% of that damn puzzle was complete. It was such a crushing disappointment. I had been committing my evenings and early Saturday mornings to such a relaxing past time only to have it conclude on such a farcical and ass-chapping note. I swear I immediately got down on my stomach and slithered around every nook and cranny of my living room floor. It’s a good thing I live alone sometimes.

You’re probably picturing this harried, possessed, maniac writhing all over like a rabid ferret …

As a side note, don’t ever do this to your ferret. It’s weird.

But, let me explain… in many ways this would be considered maniacal behaviour. However, my mood never escalates to the point of complementing what my body is physically doing. So although it may look strange to the average person, I am actually very calm and purposeful in my mind. I probably get it from my mother. She once came home from a date to her water and smoke damaged home and her front tree smoking and crackling. She drove up and said, “Well I’m really happy now that I had such a nice date.”

I did go as far as cutting open my vacuum cleaner bag. There was enough cat hair in there to create a third and fourth cat and enough dust to create a bunny for them to play with. I found my favourite pen, some bobby pins, but no blasted puzzle piece.

I left that 99.8% complete puzzle sitting on my coffee table two weeks after that because I couldn’t bring myself to break it up and put it back in the box just in case by some miracle it turned up.

Kenny arrived at the end of the second week on Sunday. I still attended to my scheduled domestic responsibilities but this time had a helper. “Good. Reminds me of when we lived together; I’m glad I came.” He said in a not very nostalgic tone.

Kenny helped by using his big muscles to lift up my furniture while keeping his eye on Britain’s Peep Show he was streaming from the Internet. Lo and behold there was that cursed puzzle piece wedged under the far leg of my sofa! Only Kenny knows me well enough to accept that those tears in my eyes were confirmation of the level of absurdity I am capable of reaching and luckily he’s okay with that. I completed the puzzle and we tore it down about 5 minutes later.

So Kenny stayed for a week and we adventured around and lounged around. It was nice having him around. He left on a Friday and I flew home to Ottawa that Wednesday for a little four day jaunt. I just got back this past Monday night and I’m adjusting to simplicity, serenity, and autonomy again. I didn’t go through my usual withdrawals and feelings of vacancy that I get when I normally return from home. I think the reason I can feel that way is because of how surrounded I am with family and friends every single day that when I return to my apartment-for-one, on the other end of the country, life can all of the sudden seem overly still and eerily quiet. This time it didn’t feel like that which was fantastic. It might have helped that Vancouver’s weather has been so beautiful to welcome me. There is always something so redeeming about sunshine and a skyline that’s embossed with a luscious mountain range.

This trip home was nice because I caught up with two friends I haven’t seen in at least 7 years. One was actually a bouncer I met when I was an over-zealous teenager abusing my body by going out three nights a week and staying out until five o’clock in the morning. I was 18, underage, he was a bouncer. Sounds like a country song. So after we became grown ups there was no reason to see each other three times a week anymore. He went on to become a cop, I went on to … find myself, and here we are, still in touch after 15 years.

The other was a girl friend from 1st year college in the Advertising program. Neither of us were ready at the time to handle such an intense and immense workload let alone know if this was really what we wanted out of our lives so we didn’t return to second year. We remained friends but eventually relationships get in the way of frequency. She went on to get married and have babies, I … got disengaged and moved across the country that same year. I’ve watched her daughters grow on Facebook so it was wonderful to see her family in person.

I spent a lot of my time at home feeling guilty for having to tell people I couldn’t connect. I tried so hard but the days were just so short. On mother’s day I left so early in the morning to say bye to Chelsy and her family, then Shannon and her family, then lunch with my dad, then to reunite with my old classmate, that I didn’t even see my own mother until 6:30 that evening. Oi.

I suppose I’ll end this now. I’ve been typing it over this last day or so I don’t even know how fragmented it’s going to seem when I actually publish it. Perhaps I will distract and overwhelm you with some photos over the last couple of weeks now.

Oh and Frigs! worth mentioning:

Frigging Home Depot!
Frigging Vancouver Canucks!
Frigging Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill!
Frigging Landslide in Quebec!
Frigging Graham James!

Here’s your Sunday Jammin’ Song on a Thursday.

A young woman who died much too soon. I would have given anything to be around when she was.  Janis Joplin | To Love Somebody. If you’re going to click the link it’s worth reading the two highest-rated comments as well. Nailed.

My birsday dinner with  Keira and T-Mo.

Kenny and I discover Lynn Canyon.

A very long Seawall stroll.

Only at English Bay have I ever seen sunsets like this…

Home now. Family first.

My poor dad.. taken about fifteen minutes after he walked into his kitchen only to find me sitting at the table when I should have been in Vancouver. I’m such a trickster. His brows are still furled.

And then there was one. This was so much more majestic when my mom had four of these.

Aves had no idea I’d be there to greet her after school.

Cute.

My same-sex soul mate.

Time to play with their Auntie Andrea

Good-bye tea

Shaun wears his new, spiffy hat he bought at tarts n’ crafts.

F-ing disgusting

Have you ever considered upgrading yours?

This button is to give your shoes some sun

Oscar – my dad’s.

Sorry for the delay, I’ve been dealing with the Olympics. Yes, the Olympics. They’re over now. Two days over and this city I call home is shrinking back down. Calming down. Coming down. I have no excuse to be out until the wee hours of the morning anymore and frankly I’m glad. I can go back to being the hermit I am deep down inside.

I’ve been challenged by the Universe again recently which came at a time when my energy levels were still very much thriving in the spirit of the city. There really wasn’t much energy to deal with one of the heaviest things I’ve ever had to deal with to this date. Someone I know left this earth very recently in a quick surrender to a life shrouded by inner turmoil, torment, and a deep sadness. It has been very upsetting to me in a way that is surprising me. It’s probably because I am such an emotional, deep, and sensitive person that I’m looking deeper into the reality than just accepting it for what it is. I think also what feels really strange for me is that when I look back at people who I’ve shared my life with, in love or in friendship, my memory of them comes along with the awareness that they are still around, I may even be seeing them tomorrow. It’s something you kind of take advantage of in that way. Remembering time spent with someone who is now gone under those circumstances feels like an incomplete thought process. It’s a different kind of memory.

You know when you’re driving? Or you’re reading, cleaning… whatever… and you have music playing in the background but you’re focused on the moment and you might snap out of it and realise you can’t even place what the last three songs were? That’s kind of what this feels like right now. I’m existing very much in the moment, going about my life… work, friends, responsibilities… but there’s this continuation of thought that’s running in the distance.

No matter who it was, I find myself most upset by knowing that someone’s life was so unbearable they had to rid themselves of it. Death is so permanent. So then imagine for a moment what that heaviness must be like. Imagine just not being able to pull yourself out. We all deal with our feelings in different ways. Some of us can ignore them, maybe dismiss or diminish them, cover them up with other emotions. Some of us are just so damned consumed by them. Some of us are only limited to three or four basic emotions, where others have multi-dimensional ones that vary and fluctuate according to the situation. Some people feel their pain. Some people pretend it’s not there. Some people have no pain.

We really are such complex and fragile beings aren’t we?

In the midst of all this I had Franklin with me while his human parents were in Maui. While they were being evacuated from their hotel for tsunami safety, I’m coming home to new surprises of destruction including the box of baby food I had. Pablum and dog saliva seems to result in a glue-like residue that can really only be scraped off laminate flooring with hot water and a putty knife (sorry Sylvia, aw jeez). The pièce de résistance happened last night when Franklin tried to party with a skunk. Unfortunately, skunks don’t run away like squirrels and cats do, unfortunately still, when an animal presents a dog with their ass they will go nose deep. Luckily skunks will demonstrate a variety of self defense warning moves before actually bringing out the big guns, unlucky for Franklin he didn’t give a shit.

I learned a new thing last night. Actual skunk spray doesn’t smell like the skunk spray aroma we often smell when we can’t see the skunk. Actual skunk spray, to me, smells like a mixture of burning rubber, sulphur and rotting flesh floating in a soup of gasoline, sour milk, and vom. Needless to say I was quite upset at this predicament for several reasons: a) It was 11:00 at night. Groomers are sleeping. Grocery stores are closed b) My soap products consist of things that smell fruity and pretty. My soap products don’t include ingredients powerful enough to deodorize a skunky dog c) Poor Franklin basically made it home face down, ass up. He literally pushed his face along the pavement alternating sides the entire way home. In as much as I’m fairly certain I wanted to punt him into tomorrow this was very difficult for me to watch.

He eventually handed over control to yours truly and for the next hour or so he sat in my bathtub while I stayed by his soaking side rubbing various experimental, soapy scents all over his face and chest. I wiped the poor guy’s swollen eyes with a warm face cloth over and over again. He just looked so forlorn and pensive; like he kept living it over and over again in his mind.

In hindsight though we had a lot of fun together, like we always do. We took a two hour road trip up to Manning to spend the day at Randy’s getaway. We cuddled, played fetch, wrestled… (Oh, this is with Franklin by the way, not Randy). Franklin was a good distraction in a week where I really needed it.

Oh ya, Sherene and I finally made it out this past Sunday. She’s been here for a year working for Bell on the Olympic contract and we finally got in some good, honest play time. Too bad she’s leaving tomorrow. This makes me incredibly sad. We’ve been friends for 20 years and Sherene is like home to me so this is going to be a tough transition to not have her around anymore.

Okay so, I guess that’s about it for the majors. I’m hoping life slows down a bit now. I’m ready to spend some quality time in the arms of my sofa and some good movies for the next little while.

An apropos tune for Sunday Jammin’ on Tuesday:

The Kinks – Better Things

Everything’s going to be okay.

Check out that happy little guy in the back

Weeeee!

Eastgate Diner

That’s Dave in the back.

“Can we please trade benches soon? It’s cold being in the shade all the time.”

Party Time Begins

We did some posing that we thought was fit for a Sears catalogue

Granville’s still bumping at 1:00AM

Pwetty girl

Oh mmmm

Now’s the time for cool down. You know, you’re going to look at these photos and think we’re both plastered. I can’t speak for Sherene (ahem) but I wanted to make mention of this… The damn cover at that bar was $32! The coat check was $5! $37 dollars spent before I even set foot in the bar.

So this is me drunk on club soda and lime. Yes, the least they could do is give me free club soda. Gotta love Vancouver… and the Olympics in Vancouver.

Now you’re all: Okay wait, she’s not behaving this way because she’s drunk? She’s really weird.

Snuggles

Oops, careful

This is a little late, je sais.

Here’s Part Uno.

I was really looking forward to coming back to Ottawa from the wedding weekend because it meant hanging out with my old friends from home. I had two and a half days to do this and got to work right away. First stop was with two of my most favourite little people in this entire world. I’ve known both of them since they were no more than 15 minutes old and I cherish every moment I have to hug and kiss them and tickle their tummies.

Avery and Noah. Shannon and Ben’s kids. It’s hard being so far away because since I’ve been gone Noah has started walking, talking, laughing, and growing his baby teef. Avery has lost baby teeth and is growing her big-girl teeth. She’s reading in English AND in French. So it can feel like I blink and a year has gone by just like that. In some ways it’s fantastic seeing how big they are since I saw them last, but in other ways it is a bittersweet view into how much their lives have changed since the last time too. 

We picked up exactly where we left off, with some hugs and tickle fights. I used to flip Avery upside-down so she could “walk” on the ceiling but we tried it and either I’m getting old or she’s too big – actually it might be a bit of both. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be taller than me in two years; I’m such a ‘squeak. 

I met up with Kenny later on that night and was initially very mean by ignoring the doorbell when he arrived because I was trapped on one of the higher levels of Bouncing Balls and didn’t want to fault the game. It was awful. I was yelling at him (but in a nice way) from the bedroom window to wait. Poor Kenny.

So Kenny’s all: “Andrea I know you can hear the doorbell.”
And I’m all: “I know but hang on two seconds.”
And Kenny’s all:  ”What are you doing?”
And I’m all: “I don’t want to tell you.”

I was in this position, possessed:

Thankfully Kenny is used to this from me so when he saw that the reason for the delay was Bouncing Balls he mumbled something like “You’re fucking nuts,” as I got back into position with a new game. My response was something like “Ya … Oh no, can you scratch my shoulder? Quick!”

 If I may interject with word from the wise (that’s me):

Always surround yourself with people who you can be yourself with and nothing less. People who will never question you or make you feel like you have to explain your self (yes, two words). Most importantly, surround yourself with people who get your mania and love you anyway. Otherwise who are you living for then? 

How do I get away with it? I make no apologies. The less you apologise for yourself the more people trust you without having to try because they know that you know what you’re doing and they relax. The less you apologise, the less you resent people for making you feel like you have to apologise. The circle is sealed. Fait accompli.

One other thing: Be one step ahead of the game – know all your faults and have an answer for everything.  Always be prepared to have them pointed out to you especially if you tend to be a little more unconventional.

Kenny will tell you that when we hang out I turn into a hug whore. It’s the strangest thing but I guess where I’m coming from I clearly don’t get enough hugs. I mean yes, you love and appreciate the girl friend hug. The embrace where you say “Bye-eee” and it feels good because it’s your girl friend. Of course there’s the family hug – all very nice. But, for me anyway, no hug compares to that of a man hugging me so tight that I can feel my vertebrae align. That’s the kind I like and that’s the kind I request from Kenny. It’s the Crack My Back Hug as I like to call it. I’m sure in some ways Kenny feels a little used for his hugs but everyone knows even if it starts out as a pity, it always feels good five seconds in anyway. NB. There is a difference between being hugged by a man vs. being hugged by a strange man. Pick your targets carefully, always scrutinize.

In between hugging Kenny and playing Bouncing Balls I spent quite a bit of time hanging out with Margot - just the two of us. I found that since enduring the flight with me and seeing me there at the end of it, I think she felt more trusting of me than she ever had. Not only that but she had a whole house to herself at my mom’s. A basement to explore! Stairs to climb! Bay windows to sit in. I knew that once I flew back to Vancouver I’d never see her crooked little tail again and this made my heart feel this kind of slogged relief which really is an oxymoron but it’s the best way I can describe it. 

I met up with T. Mo and her friends in Ottawa which was pretty fun. T and I are both from there but met in Vancouver. That was kind of foreign to me in a way, but also comforting. Here we are rolling with the lefts and rights of Vancouver but we have this kind of home-cooked kinship that also extends subconsciously. Hanging with T in Otts felt like I was bringing my new life home to meet the parents. We also did something really unique and went to a sushi restaurant…

The next day I spent some time with Chelsy, Shaun, and another of my favourite little people, Riley-girl. It was especially nice because I had just seen Chelsy on my stomping grounds in July when she and Riley came to stay with me for a weekend.

I head over to pretty little Gatineau, QC to their most beautiful home (seriously, it’s the product of two incredibly creative, loving, and free-spirited minds; one DJs as a hobby, the other sells hand made jewellery) for a really nummy lunch and some catch up time with my dear, old friends.

After I bid them a farewell and a see you soon I head over to my Dad’s to meet his new Harley. He said “Sit on it and let me take a photo.” It was one of those family photo ops. Daughter sitting on Dad’s new Harley. Like standing next to the Christmas tree or posing beside Michael Jackson at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum; it feels awkward, but you smile anyway. It was fun, especially when I had it idling and revving the engine. Well hello there, I thought to myself as that beast rumbled under me. 

I try Motorcycle Mama on for size.

I said goodbye to my Dad and my new sister, Harley for good-bye in an until next time kind of way and head to my next destination that evening. Some goodies and tea with some of my high school girlfriends, their husbs, and their babes. The single girl makes the rounds…

I held Margot tight to me when I got home and I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t aching. For your blogger… well, she has quite an attachment to animals. Especially those who struggle. In turn, those animals become quite attached to yours truly and I dozed off to the sound of the slowing rhythm of her purrs. 

Kenny called me twenty minutes in with an invite for a late night drive and some peppermint tea. I’m going to stay in my pajamas, I said. He picked me up and took me on one last drive around a rainy Ottawa in slumber before I left the next morning to fly back to my Vancouver life. 

It’s fun having two lives, you know. One ahead of you and one behind. It’s like I’m a secret agent man.

But man, I feel like a woman.

The heat wave has finally broken enough for me to stop contemplating sneaking into a meat fridge at night to get a good sleep. I look back on it now and think … was it so bad? Now that it’s over and there is a coolness in the air at night … was it? After considering this for several minutes I always come to the same conclusion that yes, it was bad – but in a good way. Bad in the sense that it was inescapable, the nights didn’t cool, Marshall & Otis couldn’t move, I would need to rest after changing channels on my remote. Good in the sense that it’s summer. I appreciate the summer heat. There is a kind of comfortable heaviness to it. I say as long as you can breathe comfortably, the temperature is at the very least acceptable. I remember in Ottawa, August months could find heat in the early-30s Celsius and with the humidity you could really struggle to breathe. Your lungs would just crave  a solid stream of cool, crisp air, but all you’d get is a channel of hot vapor. Much like our winters are recognised in Canada as a force to be reckoned with, so are our summers. 

So it’s Monday today, this has officially taken me three days to compose. That’s what happens to me, I’ll finish a sentence and my ADD will kick in and I’ll leave my computer for a reason I always forget by the time I’m up. Then, to compensate for this I’ll find something to do to give myself a reason to have gotten up in the first place. Sometimes this will find me out the door and I won’t return for hours. Such was the case on this glorious weekend…

Friday after work was a planned soiree at Boulevard Casino with Gee and a couple other peoples, the night ended up with us at Gee’s house struggling to stay awake like the elderly people we are come 11PM. We managed to push the envelope until around 12:30AM somehow and the night concluded on a high note.

Saturday started off with all the promises of a somewhat lazy day. I found myself on Kits Beach with MG, as scheduled, and for 4.5 hours. After this, MG invited me to a BBQ/Fireworks party that one of his clients had invited him to. A little whim-ish but what the hell, right? It’s an extra long weekend for me. So we went, it was an intimate affair with about 9 of us and I had the chance to watch the fireworks from a rooftop. Come midnight, grandma was ready for bed, pooped from the day in the sun and the beer that sent me into Slumberville.

Sunday I met up with T.Mo and Luis for breakfast on Commercial. I got home from this and circled my living room for about three minutes trying to figure out what I was going to do with my day. I eventually decided to make my way down to the Shaw tower at Waterfront Station to pick up a new two-way splitter after mine decided to stop carrying the current for both my cable and Internet. It was one or the other and this would not suffice. 

(it’s now midnight Tuesday)

Lucky for me, Shaw decided to change their hours this week while neglecting to update it on their website so my trip was futile, however not wasteful because I decided to take a walk up to Burrard and Robson where the Vancouver Pride Parade was in full swing. Speaking of swinging, I saw many a private part adorned in rainbow colours and pretty sparkles. Which reminds me, can someone tell me why some gay men have the most incredibly smooth, hairless, firm, and immaculate bodies imaginable? I stood there under the protection of the parasol of a towering transvestite trying not to make my grin obvious as my eyes locked on the sweaty washboard stomach of Venus while he had Eros bent over his knee. I mean I was being that girl, almost as bad as construction workers at lunch time.

Jodie then called me to advise that she and her Chicken were heading to Davie to the gay bars. I decided I hadn’t seen enough raunch and marched over to drink some beers while mingling among some more lasciviousness. We found ourselves in two bars, the first of which was more of a beer and wings joint; where the last was just bananas. This is where YMCA, Chippendales, Clay Aiken, the Indigo Girls party and it was awesome. I was accidentally kicked in the shin, then told I looked fabulous, all at the same time! After we sweat our asses off with some sweaty asses, in the truest sense of the word, we cabbed over to a Brazilian BBQ where we mowed down on pork tenderloin, steak cooked to perfection, some seasoned chicken, chips, potato salad, cupcakes, wine, caesars, and water then eventually rolled ourselves out the door toward the conclusion of Sunday night. 

Funny how a quick zip over to Shaw Cable turns into a 9-hour affair where I saw enough of a saturation of hedonism to write my very own documentary. It was such a wonderful day, one of the best I’ve had in a while.

Monday I had breakfast with Gee then met up with MG where we found ourselves back at Kits Beach. Another perfect beach day … an amazing long weekend. This place is too much fun. When do I have to be serious again? 

Here’s your Sunday Jammin’ tune at one hour into Tuesday. Clearly way past Sunday and also my bedtime. I need to allow my cells to regenerate. 

U2′s Running To Stand Still. 

It’s what I feel like I’m doing a lot of the time. It’s also one of my favourite songs on one of my favourite albums they’ve ever made, and that’s Joshua Tree.

That’s me and I hope you understand. Trust me, readers, I think about you every day. I think about those who send me emails and Facebook messages about how you enjoy reading my musings and all about my bizarre life. But then, the pressure overcomes me and I develop this aversion to logging in. It’s the stress that gets to me. I’m so weird.

When I first started this blog nearly a year and a half ago it had migrated from a silly ole blogspot blog that I’d been writing in for a couple years previous and had maybe enough posts count on my two hands and half a foot. It also had a terrible template, tons of wannabe writings that weren’t me, and contrived thoughts typed in an attempt to arouse interest. The problem is I didn’t realise I wasn’t entirely interested in blogging as a lifestyle and thus produced rather uninteresting posts. Then again, perhaps I could have had more banal of a life compared to now. There were, however, a select few posts that I transferred to this one, but other than those everything else is lost in cyberspace. 

So as the summer rolls in and the beaches warm up and fill with flocks of bodies hungry for the ocean and the sunshine, and opportunities to explore the province I’ve come to call my 2nd home, my blogging probably won’t pick up. I’m warning you ahead of time. I just have such a craving for outdoors in all shapes and forms; even the stormy kinds. I’m sure I’ll check in with a photo or two here and there, maybe even a solid week will go by when I’ll write more, I just don’t knowwww.

Also, I’m still in recovery from my surgery. Hard to believe it’s almost been three weeks. Some days can still be rather uncomfortable and sleeping can take on a whole new meaning which can be pretty sucky sometimes. A shitty sleep means an uncomfortable rising, means a cranky and uncomfortable day. I truck on though, as best I can, wincing, whining and sometimes suffering in silence, then other days are fantastic so it’s a fine balance. I’ve really learned to listen to my body though so it’s like meeting an old, familiar friend. I take good care of me lately.

I visited parts of beautiful Vancouver Island this past weekend with Keira and met up with a friend as well. I met some dog friends, touched the noses of some dairy cows, and spent some time with the amazing spirit of some horses. The last time I was on the Island was in 1994 so in many ways it felt new all over again. It’s nice to leave the energy of the city to escape to a place that lives and breathes tranquility. A place where people you pass on the sidewalk will say good morning and a smile comes easy. Ottawa offered that in a lot of ways with a quick 45 minute drive outside of the city. It’s been a while since I felt that kind of quiet calmness so it was rejuvenating. 

So I guess that’s about it for now. I’ll leave you with some photos from the last month or so just for fun. Should be good enough for a while at least.

Yea… life’s been good to me so far.

ps. Do you remember Say Anything? I bought it over the weekend and forgot how much I love it. The car make out scene … sigh … 80′s movies are so rad.

I’m pretty sure Jordy actually does smile…

Pretty Charley girl…

Beaufort Vineyard & Estate Winery…

Les vaches

So loverly they were…

I called this one Cindy Crawford…

Coombs…

This is Mitch. He liked our crackers…

I have come to the end of a five day, long weekend, thanks to Easter and my gov’t jobby. I did a lot of what I like to do best, and that is Sweet F.A. I lay in bed Friday morning at the crack of my cats’ meows with a visualisation of a yellow house, a big old tree with a tire swing, and a noisy sky – it’s what I picture when I write this - and decided to begin painting it.

I did that for roughly four hours and may or may not have watched two Dirty Dancings in a row during this time. I finally stopped when I had a matte, pale, yellow house, with a plain grey roof, and a plain grey deck, and a stark, dark brown 2D tree ominously creeping up at the bottom right corner like a gnarled rake. At this point I became rather bored, and there wasn’t much more I could do while I waited for the house to dry. I really wanted to add some rusty, old shutters, and a creaky door, but alas, my time is as precious as the oil paint decides it to be.

I brought out another quarter-finished canvas of Gee’s cat, Whiskey, sitting in a windowsill. I stared at it for about 15 minutes, even stepping outside to look at it through my living room window from as much of a distance as possible, but by the time I came inside again, I forgot why I was outside in the first place primarily because of this condition, and then set forth in pursuit of clean dishes. The rest of my night would have looked really cool in time-lapse.

Saturday was half Sweet F.A., half party time – which is just the way I like to ease into any activity that involves leaving the confines of my cave. One step at a time, as the saying goes; I didn’t want to overstimulate my senses.

Saturday night I checked out The Market restobar in Vancouver’s newest, and tallest, sky-scraping hotel, The Shangri-La, with my friends MG and G. I stank of swank just setting foot in that place. It was fun to pretend. The theme of the hotel boasts Asian subtleties with earthy dessert-tones and hues (like caramel, espresso, milk chocolate), monstrous round pillars, ornate chandeliers, and a lot of granite. Otherwise known as I Am A Very Expensive Hotel.

We mosied over to The Alibi Room in Gastown apres ça and sat at solid wood picnic tables drinking beer and wine and talking about things I cannot mention in this post, sorry.

Come Sunday I was really only half-way into my long, long weekend and was feeling like a newly retired person already. I believe it was rainy and gross on this day and I remember this because I wanted to ski. Instead, I painted some more, made a huge mess of my place, brushed Marshall, and scolded Otis for attempting to eat Marshall. Met up with Quack at Starbuckle and may or may not have talked about 21st Century Woman-related things on a global scale. I also chilled with my beloved Katie later on that day; surfed the Net for a bit, then head on over to Tinseltown and saw One Week -which I highly recommend if you’d like to go through a metamorphosis of your life focus, and emerge roughly two hours later feeling like you need to latch onto a purpose and get that shit done like yesterday. In other words: Life is too unpredictable and short, so stop idling because it’s bad for your mental environment. It was also really nostalgic to see my home and native land portrayed with some beautiful country-side scenery. From TO to VAN … and everything in between.

Monday I tried to find people to beg to go skiing and couldn’t even find that let alone someone who would actually go. God, you’d think it was Easter or something. I painted some depth into the tree instead, then met up with Quack and Ciavarro and head into North Vancouver in search of Italian salted, deli meats. We found ourselves at The Quay munching on little Italian nibblies and I felt like I was at an outdoor family fiesta back in Montréal. I ended the day sitting down to paint and put on The Black Stallion then proceeded to bawl my eyes out so much that I couldn’t even see what I was painting.

Tuesday was another hot, sunny, and magnificent day. By this point I was falling into a depression due to the fact that I had four Grouse passes sitting on my mantle and the skiing season was quickly coming to an end. I met T for breakfast, then G  for lunch – where I was very late (due to construction) and I’m still very sorry (there was construction); then rolled into the afternoon with one mission and one mission alone on my frontal lobe: Must.Ski.Today.

And so I did. I resigned myself to the fact that no one would be able to go with me come hell or high water. So I packed up my gear, loaded it into my car, brought some driving music and head to Grouse forgetting nothing, and making no wrong turns. I had just enough change in my wallet to treat myself to rock star parking, nothing could really ruin my day. Not even the fact that the 100 capacity, red line gondola was under construction and the wait in the blue line was roughly 35 minutes. I made friends in line, got up to the hill, and skied for a good 4 hours. It occurred to me several times while on the chairlift with the sun hot against my back that I hadn’t engaged in conversation with anyone during several half-hour to hour-long increments. I was literally in a meditative state, submerged in nature. It was nice too because there was hardly anyone on the hill. I rode the chairlift several times by myself. I skied in silence. At one point I got to the peak of Grouse, just when the sun started to deepen in colour, and sat down on my skis staring out over Vancouver and the grandiose, infinite Pacific. For that moment in time I swear I felt the activity leave my mind and it felt still and free of all thought – it’s been a long time since I felt that.

Today is back at work, but it’s a three-day week ending in pay day. I can’t complain. It’s been a great five days and a new weekend is already so close, I can taste it.

Please plough the side streets this instant.

Thank you. Sincerely,

- Andrea

I woke up at an ungodly hour for some strange reason. I believe it was around 3:00AM when most of Vancouver was still sleeping. I peeked through my blinds to see how much snow had fallen and the colour of the outside world was so beautiful and unique. I’m sure it was the lights of the city reflecting off the snow clouds but everything looked very tranquil. Like sepia almost, but the setting was on normal. It was enough to make me rummage around in the darkness of my living room to find my DSLR and take this shot. Personally, I think it’s very calming – and part of the reason why I’ve always loved a city blanketed in snow.

We celebrated our 24 hours of hanging out together date on Saturday night when we didn’t plan on doing anything. Sometimes the best relationships are the spontaneous ones, you know? It’s like Saturday night we went out for dinner with my friend Mike G. Then, after parting ways with Mike G., Katie and I were going to bid farewell to each other as well. But, come 9:30PM we caught the tail of this strange second wind whereby we decided we were going to surround ourselves with an upbeat and exciting atmosphere.

We went with Kino Cafe Flamenco and Tapas Bar on Cambie Street for some Flamenco music and dancing. olé. I for one melt to the sound of a flamenco guitar and that combined with the beauty of flamenco dancing made for a splendid night. If you’re in Vancouver, near Cambie Street, and it’s not blustering snow and freezing cold, I suggest you make your way to Kino Cafe. It’s such an intimate atmosphere bursting with culture and wonderful music. I can’t believe I never knew of this place, now I will go all the time.

Call me if you’re going because I’d like to invite myself along, okay?

Some photos from the eve.:

I leave you with the following. It’s beautiful, no?