Random Photo Friday: Build it and they will come?

It's not one of my favourite photos per se, but it is one that I feel depicts much of the relentless construction madness that's been devouring Vancouver for the past 10 years. I'm not sure when it'll ever end but when it does, you can bet your line of credit dollar, it's gonna be fuuuuugly.

Old buildings pending their imminent demise. Sad eyes reflect hi-rise cranes

marking the territory of yet MORE featureless condo towers 'coming soon to
a tiny lot near you'. Hideously small, totally non-functional and ridiculously
overpriced. Go nuts! (You probably will.)

If I were to start on my rant about the utter insanity of this City's obsession with condo towers, fake wealth and hormonal mortgage whores, this post would never end. Besides, there's a man with a blog who explains it all far better than I ever could. Let me introduce you to Garth Turner, Lord of eloquence, sarcasm and utterly brutal honesty and irony. I love him to bits!

You could easily be forgiven for thinking we have a problem of sink holes in Vancouver. And you don't have to be sucking on the ever-prevalent BC Bud to find yourself scratching your head wondering, "WTF? I swear there was a diner here yesterday?". Buildings seemingly get sucked underground overnight in this city. Next thing you know, there's just a massive hole filled with rain and re-bar where a funky shop/apartment building/photography store/restaurant/or other Mom 'n' Pop business used to be. And then you notice the cranes, more than 150ft high, signalling the increased height of the intended replacement - an over-sized monstrosity that'll suck up even more of the rapidly diminishing views that once made Vancouver so beautiful. Towers upon ugly, featureless towers, some of them already showing signs of mould and efflorescence, even before they've peeled the sticky plastic off the ill-fitted windows.

When Vancouver won the bid for the 2010 Winter Olympics the housing-market quickly started to go nuts, escalating waaaaay beyond reality and sky-rocketed far beyond the financial means of your average city-dweller. People were convinced they should buy up property right away because once the world came to Vancouver and saw just how freakin' fabulous it is here, they'd for sure all want to live here, so buy, buy, buy. Build, build, build.....then buy again and build some more. And keep building....frantically building....never stop building. Tear shit down and build on it. Tear up the parking lots and build on them. Uproots trees for more condos and better views. Build, I tell you - BUILD! And, just when you think there's nothing left to build, build another umpteen towers of useless shoeboxes until there's absolutely nothing left and no-one can breathe. And then wait....and wait.....for the droves upon droves upon millions of people they said would be emigrating here. Keep watching, they're bound to turn up at some point....right? Okay, so maybe you should stop holding your breath, but keep your eyes peeled. Any minute now they'll arrive in their millions, charging off the planes, trains, ships and automobiles packed with all their worldly goods, just salivating at the thought of snapping up a million dollar closet-sized condo in some 30-storey tower where they can go stir crazy and stare at ALL the other surrounding towers while they figure out how the hell they're going to pay their next month's mortgage....or you simply tap up the bank of Mum & Dad to bail your sad-ass out. Or, better still, just move back home and have mummy wipe your ass for you.

Problem is - they're still building - building upon ugly building - one on top of another on top of another....but no-one's coming. No-one can bloody afford to move here. The people who live here can hardly afford to be here...and yet still they build. And keep on mindlessly building. I'm not convinced this over-zealous and unnecessary insanity will ever end. But there's no-one left to live in these place. Anyone who'd buy has already bought and will likely struggle to make the hefty profit they drooled over. Many people have actually left the city/Lower Mainland because of crappy salaries that in no way meet the ludicrous cost of living here. Supply is visibly out-weighing demand (and affordability) and yet more and more places are going up while literally thousands of units remain empty. Welcome to the reality of Vancouver. The best Shitty on Earth.

So for me the photo above shows the broken spirit and neglected old glass of a once-vibrant building now on its death row countdown, and staring its far uglier successor(s) in the face. Sad but true.

Giving Thanks - especially for emergency veterinary care

Well, our Thanksgiving Weekend certainly went a little pear shaped but it's safe to say we are particularly thankful for the outstanding veterinary care and medical expertise that nursed our little Ella through a serious respiratory crisis this weekend. I'll explain more in a moment, but - even though we ended up having to cancel our own Thanksgiving dinner, planned for holiday Monday with my sister, her boyfriend Mike, Bronwyn and River - we nevertheless had a big dinner on Saturday evening courtesy of our friends, Steve and Heidi, at their new house in Port Moody.


Thanksgiving dinner #1 courtesy of friends, Steve (head of table)
and Heidi (taking the pic), their two girls, Charlee & Andi,
our other good friend Steve (left) and - on the right - me and Lorne. 

Thankfully our hosts didn't constantly bicker and snipe at one-other quite as much this time (our previous visit started to get downright uncomfortable), and their young daughters were just as ignorant and disobedient as usual, so not much change there either. I can't say I've ever once seen them pay a scrap of attention to what their parents say/ask. Similarly, I've never witnessed the parents actually follow through with their own requests or commands either. (Prime candidates for JoJo and an episode of Supernanny.) I sound horribly judgemental and I don't mean to be, but we've had some very stressful meetings with those guys and a lot of it caused by their terrible bickering, cross-parenting and horribly misbehaved kids who have to dominate everything. We were never like that as kids (we wouldn't have dared for a start) and my own nieces and nephews are much better behaved too and actually respect what their parents say.


Delirium Tremens - delicious as a drink
and it also kicks things up a notch
if used in gravy.

Still, it was a fun night all the same and a delicious meal. Not being a turkey eater, I thoroughly enjoyed the spicy vegetarian sausage in mushroom & onion gravy that I brought for myself, especially because I'd poured generous sploshes of secret ingredient into the gravy....namely, Delirium Tremens, a rather  fabulous (8.7% alcohol) Belgian beer. As well as a few drops of ye olde, all-important Lea & Perrin's Worcester Sauce - pronounced Wuster, I might add not Wor-chest-er-shire! That stuff's also great in veggie shepherd's pie.

Personally, (while I know there are a gazillion worse places to live in the world) being stuck way out in the 'burbs has always held zero appeal for me, I can't bear the thought of having to drive everywhere, even to get a carton of milk. Where the closest stores are all your staple big-box monstrosities, the restaurants are tediously generic chains (Cactus Club, Earls, Whitespot and Tim-Sh*tty-Hortons). More importantly, I certainly can't imagine paying over $700,000 for the 'privilege' - in fact, the mere idea of it all sends shivers down my spine. I feel like I'd be giving up on life. If I'm going to pay stupid money just to have a slightly bigger place in the soul-destroying 'burbs then I'd rather emigrate and spend it on a cute farmhouse in the South of France. We pay through the nose to live in Vancouver (and believe me, it does grate on us at times) but we have everything we need right on our doorstep - beaches, parks, shops/restaurants/bars that are independently owned, not just your average widespread chain, plus the added luxury of regular transit, to the point I almost never use the car. If I'm not on the bus then I'm usually walking to wherever I need to go.

That said a family of four would be extremely hard-pressed to ever afford a place in Vancouver, never mind have more than 600 sq.ft. to squish themselves into (which would still cost half a million). And forget the idea of any garden with it - that easily pushes into the $1Million + category, even for a mouldy, rat-infested, condemned teardown. Steve and Heidi's place really is quite nice and is exactly what they've been looking for in a 'family home' - even if it is the kind of suburban nightmare that makes me want to run screaming. Different strokes for different folks n' all that.

So what went wrong with Ella? Our poor little love had a horribly rough time of it this past weekend but is thankfully on the mend. Sheesh, just when we thought we'd finally be free of veterinary visits and having to dish up a daily cocktail of medications...at least for a few more years anyways. (Not that we resent it, let me be clear on that. We will always do whatever is within our powers to help our furry little family in whatever way we can.)

It all started about ten or so nights ago when Ella woke us up in the middle of the night coughing and choking. We gently petted and comforted her until she calmed down enough for the coughing to subside.

Naturally we thought the most likely culprit was a hairball so the very next day we gave her malt hairball remedy (which she won't lick off our finger and wasn't at all impressed with having syringed down her mouth....man, she has an incredibly strong and defiant jaw-clamping instinct). But for several nights in a row, the same coughing fit happened again. We bought malt tablets (which had been pretty successful with Mishka) and tried that. Still the nightly coughing spasm continued, then it happened more than just once a night. By Thursday we became increasingly concerned when it happened 3 times in one night and again the next morning. A hairball would surely have passed by now. Had she eaten something she shouldn't, that's got stuck? We started to seriously think a visit to the vet might be in order, though we also didn't want to be worrying too much (perhaps years of having senior cats in various states of physical decline has made us a little over-cautious in this regard?).

By Saturday morning - after several more coughing/wheezing fits during the night plus a couple more that morning - there was no denying it, she needed to see a vet - ASAP. We couldn't risk things getting any worse and especially not on a long weekend, since that would leave 24hr Animal Emergency as our only veterinary option. We managed to get a 3pm appointment to see Dr. Kramer at  our regular vet - the first time we've taken Ella there - and she even threw up during the car ride, maybe due to the stress from coughing.

Dr. Kramer's seen us many-a-time before and generally under pretty grave circumstances. Her gentle examination of Ella revealed a healthy heart but slight crackly sound in her chest. Two subsequent x-rays indicated over-inflated lungs, a slightly flattened diaphragm and a noticeably accentuated outline of the bronchiolar tree, including 'donut' patterns - all typical signs of respiratory distress, most likely asthma.

Given our limited knowledge of Ella's previous health history (having only adopted her in May) Dr. Kramer also ran a blood test to check for FIV, Feline Leukemia and any signs of infection - or it could also be parasites or heartworm. She also administered a steroid shot (prednisolone) that would last 24hrs and would settle Ella's breathing down and be a good indicator of whether asthma really is the problem. The injection definitely helped. Even though Ella was somewhat subdued after her ordeal, she wasn't coughing and didn't cough that night.

Waiting for news on the lab results felt like a far too familiar and well-trodden pathway. While Lorne was able to stay more optimistic, I couldn't help inwardly fearing the worst. Thankfully, when Dr. Kramer emailed us Sunday morning, she confirmed the lab-work came back and the results looked good. (And breathe........) She suggested we make a follow-up appointment for Tuesday to discuss treatment options. Unfortunately we didn't get that far before poor Ella started to have coughing fits again - with increased frequency and intensity.

By Monday morning she was in very rough shape, coughing far too much and too often, lying under the bed all hunched over and showing laboured breathing. We clearly had no choice but to take her down to Animal Emergency. Without even showering, I threw some clothes on, stuffed Ella in her carrier and drove down to the ER. Lorne stayed home to prep the veggies for the Thanksgiving meal we'd planned - Vicky and co. would be coming over at 3:30pm.

It was crazy-busy at Animal ER, I had to park a couple of blocks away. They operate a triage system just like a human ER, so I was both glad and alarmed when they immediately bumped Ella to the front of the queue. They took her into the back, gave her a sedative to calm her down (from the stress of the respiratory difficulties) and put her on oxygen right away.

I waited....and waited.... and waited. Animal Emergency is a tough place to hang out, especially when you're a crazy animal-lover like me. So many puking dogs, an elderly beagle that couldn't/wouldn't walk, a cat with a yukky eye infection and a golden lab that literally had tyre tracks on his side from the car that hit him just 10mins earlier. Even the phone was ringing off the hook. But perhaps the toughest was the when a young woman with (what I imagine was) quite severe cerebral palsy drove in on her mobility scooter transporting her adorable little poodle/bichon frisee. I got chatting with her while I waited for Ella. Turns out her dog was 13 and the past two days he'd started crying out in pain, didn't want to move, stopped eating and generally didn't want much of anything. This coming right after she'd also had to put her 14-year old cat to sleep just three days earlier. Horribly sad. (Heck we lost a cat a year the past few years and found that difficult enough, never mind the thought of two within a week.) Her poor little dog was heartbroken at the loss, they'd been inseparable and had spent years always snuggling and sleeping cuddled up together. Now she feared the worst for him and, to be honest, it wasn't looking good :-( I almost cried. My heart went out to her, and to her little bundle of fluff.

I waited two hours at ER, while they kept Ella on oxygen and took a couple more x-rays (as seen above). The vet asked whether, in my opinion, anything looked different compared to those taken 2 days earlier. While I'm no expert, I'd definitely say her bronchioles looked a little more accentuated. She felt Ella was doing better but nevertheless wanted to keep her a few more hours, possibly even hospitalize her overnight. In the meantime they'd email her x-rays to a clinic in the US for secondary evaluation to rule out anything more serious. They suggested I wait at home and phone in later - or they'd call me.

It was about 1:15pm when I got home and Lorne had prepped most everything for dinner.....but we both determined, quite reluctantly, that it would probably be better to postpone. Bugger, because we were so looking forward to Vicky, Mike and the kids coming over - it's been ages - but with Ella still at ER and, even if we did get to bring her home, she'd need quiet, calm and perhaps a little solitude after this whole ordeal. I was quite bummed out having to cancel, but what could we do? Our plans had been completely side-swiped - we certainly didn't see this one coming. So we postponed until next Sunday - which left Lorne and I a LOT of vegetables to eat over the next couple of days.


Well this should be fun
trying to get Ella on this.

By 4pm (and a lot of nail-biting on my part) we were told we could collect Ella and bring her home. They were happy with her progress and didn't feel the need to hospitalize her after all. They discharged her with two sets of oral medications: Prednisolone (an oral corticosteroid) and Terbutaline (a bronchodilator). They'd rather get her onto an inhaler (you can get inhalers for cats? Yes, apparently something like this, by AereoKat) but they were out of stock.

For the first time in (just) 6 months, we're back to the old familiar, twice-daily routine of rattling pill bottles and stuffing medications into Pill Pockets (amen for Greenies Pill Pockets!!!!)

So top of our list of things we're truly thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend are:

• Our Ella-Bella-Boo is still very much alive and doing well
• Emergency veterinary clinics and the incredible staff who work there
• Access to expert medical attention 
• Advances in medications for cats
• Pill Pockets to dispense said medications without losing an eye or finger
• Having the financial means to be able to treat our beloved furry family and truly take care for them. It doesn't come cheap, that's for sure - we quickly devoured $1,000 this past weekend - but I can't imagine how heartbreaking it must be for those who have to legitimately decide between food on the table or veterinary bills.
• The support and understanding of my sister, Victoria, when we had to cancel dinner :-(

I'm pleased to report the medications are working well - Ella's been cough-free since Monday and is doing really well. We're booked to follow up with Dr. Goldberg this Saturday so we can figure out a short, medium and long-term plan for her asthma, ideally a mix of inhaler and perhaps homeopathy.

Dr. Kramer left a phone message on Tuesday to check in on Ella, having heard that we ended up at ER with her after all. Part of me just wishes she could have sent us home with an extra syringe of prednisolone when we saw her on Saturday, just to get her through the long-weekend, especially since she knew the dose she'd given her would only last 24hrs. Perhaps we could have saved ourselves - and Ella - this whole ER trauma and serious respiratory distress (not to mention the additional $500). That said, the more forgiving side of me feels that we couldn't really have predicted just how quickly this asthma attack would take hold and escalate to such a dangerous level.

I believe Ella might be down a life now. I'm incredibly thankful for all the help that saw her pull through this traumatic turn of events and we intend to make her eight remaining lives long and wonderful.

Random Photo Friday: Vibrance and Decay

Darn, I can't think of a particularly creative name for today's Random Photograph, though it's one of my new favourites. I'm a big fan of pattern and texture - especially peely-paint and old, damaged, disregarded things.

A few weeks ago, Lorne and I were driving out of the alley behind our apartment and, as we passed the aged and crumbling makeshift garage at the back of one of the houses just behind our building, I noticed how the last drops of 'golden hour' sunlight picked out every colour and detail of the green ivy leaves against their somewhat decrepit, faded-paint backdrop. I made a mental note to capture a photograph at the next available opportunity - i.e. right moment, right weather, right time of day. Not as easy as it sounds.

It wasn't until last Saturday, at around 4pm, after a shamefully lazy day indoors, I decided to go for a walk along West 4th Ave., leaving the building out of the back way so I could throw some garbage in the dumpster. Plodding up the alley, I once again passed by this scene - having almost forgotten - and the light was just perfect! Of course I didn't have my SLR with me, so this is captured with my Iphone 4. Plus there was a car parked right near it and a big, fat stripey spider had built its enormous web stretching from the trunk of the car over and across to the upper vines of ivy, thus hovering mid-air, right where I wanted to kneel and get a shot. But I knew the afternoon light was quickly fading on that spot so there wouldn't be time to run upstairs and grab my Nikon....and zoom lens (so I could stand well clear of the web).

It took a little careful limboing on my part to get in there without upsetting or attracting the 8-legged beasty (moreso because I'm ridiculously arachnophobic) but I'm so glad I did because I love the way the light not only enhances the colours - and fading paintwork - of this scene, but it also picks out the more subtle details of light and shadow, pattern, texture and the integration of decay and rot, counter-balanced with the vibrant new growth of the three little leaves peeping curiously around the split siding. 

If the weather's right this weekend, I might just have to try again with my Nikon.

Getting all Yelp-tastic

Us Brits are renowned for our stiff upper lip, taking things on the chin and not wanting to make a fuss, but we're also known as "whinging pommes" and when we feel we've been wronged, especially by poor service or bad attitude, we sure like to whinge about it - to anyone who'll listen!...though often we don't mention anything at the time. We'll eat a bad meal at a restaurant, feel cheated, grumble amongst ourselves, scoff at the bill and yet still chirp up with a polite "it was fine, thanks" if asked if everything was ok. We like to complain, we're just not always good at dealing with it at the time.

I speak from personal experience, including having been a Tour Guide for british tourists who feigned everything was going splendidly during their holiday, only to find myself ambushed by a sit-in at Reception the last night of the holiday, when it came time to settle the bill for any extras. Suddenly there'd be tales of woe from just about everyone, bitching and snarling, grumbling and growling - "The leaflet said 'All inclusive' wine and beer, how was I supposed to know that doesn't include premium scotch?" or "I didn't have hot water when I showered this morning, I want a full refund for my entire stay!" (oh yes, I kid you not.) or "the snack-bar food was dreadful but we ate it (every day) anyway. We're not paying for any of it and you're not going to make us." And many....many...similar tales of woe. Admittedly, as their Tour Guide in the Maldive Islands, it was hard to be too sympathetic to some of the namby-pamby whining because seriously, they had chosen to vacation in what was otherwise a 3rd world destination (and believe me, as gorgeous as it was, it wasn't nearly the exclusive top-notch 'ooooh, celebrities stay here' destination that it has become these days). The limitations on fresh, fruit veg and general abundance of choices in the menu might be down to the fact a) you're in a 3rd world country b) in the middle of the frikkin' Indian Ocean, where all they have are beaten up small boats (dohnis) to spend hours, navigating among a myriad of treacherous coral reefs etc., going from one place to another and c) many of those items aren't even available on any of the actual Maldive Islands anywhere - location, location, location! You can hardly fly baguettes in from Paris and any shipped-in fresh fruit/veg would surely spoil after days in-transit from wherevertheheckacrosstheocean.

Ah yes, I remember it well. And the irony was that, of my German, Austrian and Swiss clients - normally known for being demanding, having high expectations and insisting on Alles being in Ordnung, they were the ones who were easiest to please. As one of them even told me (after listening to a Brit bitch and snarl at me about the rain or something), "You know, if I'd wanted a holiday where everything is perfect and top-notch, I could quite easily have just spent one week in my front garden and one week in the back!" That, for me, summed it up perfectly.

As for the French guests I looked after.....they could be terribly fiesty (once surrounding me like a pack of hungry hounds around a fox after enduring a particularly rough boat crossing from the airport to the resort) but once they screamed, shouted and gesticulated it out of their system, everything was fine. They didn't harbour an unspoken grudge and secretly plot their evil vengeance like many of the Brits I encountered.

So what's my point? Well, a couple of years ago, after terrible service at a suburban nail spa (not my personal choice - it was for a friend's 40th) and a funky downtown hair salon, whose seriously overgrown ego was in desperate need of a trim, I started posting my feedback on such places/experiences on the canadian version of Yelp - which, in the words of Wikipedia, is a website that provides specialized search capabilities and provides information about businesses in a given area using address or postal code information. Each paid business listing contains a filtered 5-point rating, filtered reviews from other site visitors, and details such as the business' address, hours, accessibility and parking.

While I haven't explored every facet of Yelp, it's certainly become an online social forum for finding a bounty of information on places, services etc. - where reviewers can merrily spill the good, the bad and the ugly on just about anything.

Maybe it's because I've been both a whiner and the whinee (especially having worked in the hospitality and service industries), that I generally have two things in mind when I post on Yelp:

1. give credit where credit's due
2. forewarned is forearmed

I'm always pleased to write a glowing review and help boost the reputation of a place where I feel I've had great service, delicious food or just a positive experience overall. Similarly, I think it only fair to comment when things have been less-than-stellar so that other people can be spared the same fiasco and also to make those places really think about the level of service they offer.

What's the old adage? “A satisfied customer will tell one friend, an unhappy customer will tell everybody.” Well, when you post a review on Yelp, for better or worse, you're still telling everybody!

Anyway, here's where you'll find my reviews, most of which have only been posted in the past six months or so, though I've been contributing on a regular basis lately.

I try to be succinct and humourous (though I don't always manage the former), fair and informative. (Oh, and I try not to post when I have PMS. Hehe.) Obviously there's also a certain amount of personal taste and preferences in anyone's review - we can't ALL like the same things, that'd just be tedious. Plus, as a vegetarian my postings are limited to the non-meat corner of the menu. And while I haven't written copious amounts (yet), I'm actually quite enjoying writing these things, well I'm just enjoying writing more in general.

What's more, in response to some of my reviews, I've actually been contacted by the place I've posted about and been offered amends or apologies. Such as, in the case of my review and subsequent update about Rain Hair Salon, being thanked for my update and offered a discount next time I go in, should I wish to return to the stylist I had a 'misunderstanding' with earlier this year. (I.e. She accidentally misunderstood that 2 inches off the length of my hair didn't secretly mean 2" plus another 5" just for shits 'n' giggles.)

Interestingly enough, Wikipedia also adds the following about some of the reviews posted on Yelp: Throughout much of its history, Yelp Inc. has been the focus of criticism from some of its business clients who have alleged that Yelp Inc. manipulates its website, user reviews based on that business' participation in Yelp's advertising programs. Yelp Inc. denies this and has expressed dissatisfaction with business owners who have solicited reviews from friends and associates or paid for "fake" reviews

Indeed, I can definitely say that a couple of the reviews for Vancouver's new bar/eatery "The August Jack" (which opened just a few short months ago) definitely seem to be case-in-point for the above. They're just drooling with an awkward abundance of enthusiasm that seems a little too over-the-top, if you know what I mean. And trust me, I pass the place frequently enough to notice that, of its sparse clientele, no-one is dancing on the cheesy chairs or tables gushing about how incredibly wonderful it all is. Or maybe I just haven't timed it right.

I wonder who'll be next on my list......

Random Photo Friday: Fall

It's not one of my best pics but I thought I'd throw this one out there anyway as my first Friday Photo since we're now definitely into Fall. I love the blaze of golden leaves and the sun streaming in from a much lower position in the sky, such as it is this time of year.


Queen Elizabeth Park, Vancouver

I've always been a big fan of Autumn and its refreshingly crisp mornings - especially on a sunny day. It's also the time of year that, every year without fail, makes me terribly nostalgic and homesick for England...well, Europe in general....though it's definitely a beautiful time of year in England. Especially when coupled with the smokey notes of old stoney houses with a fire going, or even leaf piles burning out back. It's also one of my favourite times to go horseback riding, for all those same smells and many wonderful memories of cantering through the woods and across the fields of Northamptonshire in the couple of years before I emigrated. (Horses and riding gear - another of my most favourite smells in the world.)

Blaze of Glory - West 11th Ave at Ontario Street, Vancouver

While we don't see a huge amount of the changing leaves here, for which places like Montreal and Vermont are so famous, we nevertheless get a few vibrant displays of magnificent fall colours, such as we did outside the house where we lived the past 4 years. People would literally stop in their tracks to admire the striking display of reds and take lots of photographs. See what I mean?

As a child I always loved 'splashing' through the layers of leaves carpeting the sidewalk, kicking them high, as my mum walked us along Bargate towards the nursery/daycare we simply called "Aunty Maureen's".  Sixteen years later, I did the very same thing all over again, walking along that very same street, past Aunty Maureen's and on to the college at Nun's Corner, which was then Grimsby College of Technology. (It's called Grimsby Institute of Further and Higher Education now, where my brother is doing a fantastic job as Programme Leader of the degree course, BA (Hons) Games Design. Go Graham!)

That said, I think this year is one of the very few times where I've actually felt a little melancholy at the approach of autumn, mainly because we've just enjoyed such an outstanding summer in Vancouver. The best since I moved here in fact. Hard to see it come to an end, knowing that it's not often we get a summer quite THAT beautiful!

Anyway, this was only meant to be a short post with one photo. But, since I've blathered on, I might as well add one more picture to the mix, just for good measure.

And now it's time for me to get out there and see if I can't find myself a nice pile of leaves to wade through. Old habits n'all.

Switching gears

Okay, so after the rather woeful whinge of my last post, I've decided (after a pretty sedentary and very rainy weekend) to switch gears. Rather than focussing on what I feel I'm not doing, I'm going to start including more of what I am doing. Heck it might even push me into actually doing more ;-)

Here are a couple of things I've decided upon:

1. I've been meaning to start a separate blog for showcasing my (favourite) photographs for the longest time but haven't done so yet and I've been shamefully remiss in even posting anything to my Flickr site. I don't know how this happened - or rather isn't happening - I just know that I need to pull my finger out and get back at it. I thought of a couple of ideas to make sure I post my photos more often:
• Set myself a weekly photo challenge - of taking/posting either a single or selection of themed photos. I should probably start with photos from last year's trip to England & Scotland for starters and then the pics from our recent holiday in Germany. Anyhoo I'll figure it out and I'll see if my sister, Vicky, wants to get in on the themed photo safari too. We both love photography but have quite different styles and preferred subject matter. I think we've only done one or two photo safaris together but they were both fun and it's always interesting to compare the different results and what catches her eye as opposed to mine. Must chat with her about this.
• Maybe I'll call it my Friday Flickr Foto and kill two birds with one stone, posting here and adding to Flickr.
• Post a photo that appeals to me, even if it's not my own.
2. I love making cards. For the past several years I've monopolized our spare bedroom with the crazy hoard of craft supplies that I've accumulated over the years for this hobby and yet, since Christmas last year, I've really only created cards when necessary and have even fallen behind sometimes - something I never normally do (I have a freakishly solid memory for dates, birthdays, anniversaries etc. so no excuse on that score). Of course, living in Vancouver, the advantage to this time of year is the start of the endlessly grey and rainy season, in all its stormy and torrential downpour glory. Perfectly conducive to being a homebody and putting my creative talents to good use. I need to chat with Vicky about this too - we should get back to doing the monthly craft nights we used to do with a couple of friends (until both moved out of town and one turned out to not be much of a friend at all). We should actually try for at least twice-monthly. Besides, we don't just have to make cards (I still have plenty left over from last year) but I've been meaning to try my hand at felt tree decorations and general gift-making for Christmas too. I love making things for family and friends just as much as I love to receive a hand-made gift or card, yet I always end up starting too late. On the one hand it's still too early to be thinking of Christmas, I know. But if I'm sending things home to England, I generally have to ship mid-late October so I might as well get on it - sooner the better and that way I'm not rushing last minute. (Haha, I always tell myself this, we'll see if it actually pans out this year! Don't hold your breath.) But while I'm on the subject of cards, there's no time like the present to actually show some of them here (albeit some are scans and don't look that great):

A co-worker asked if I could make a card for her best friend
who was leaving town and moving on to pastures new

Customized for Lorne's stepdad, Stan. 

For Vicky's 40th a few years ago.

Put a bird on it!  :-)

 

Mother's day....for my Mum. (Obviously)

Ooops - meant to send this to Graham & Stephie
when they got engaged last year.

 

And a few Christmas card samples - see how easy it is to integrate snippets from old cards, foil wrappers from ferrero rocher/almond rocca, as well as mulberry paper (torn out from an old Ikea shower curtain no less - too pretty to waste):


Spot the old foil wrappers?

These were so easy and the shiny blue paper helped.



Mulberry paper, glitter and sparkly bejewels.



Recycled cards, almond rocca wrapper and
a little creativity



A little embossing, stickers, fancy trim and you're done






The card I made for Lorne last Christmas

Mid-life blaaaaahs

I know it sounds like a shamefully self-indulgent and utterly first-world kind of whinge, but I've been feeling quite bummed out lately. Ye olde familiar and nagging weight of the eternal 'what am I doing with my life?' question, compounded by the deafening crash of doors that I sense are slamming shut to me, on opportunities that I'm becoming too old to pursue. And it's not like new ones are really opening up. I guess it wouldn't bother me so much if I even had the remotest idea how to respond to, "Well, where do you see yourself in 5, 10 or even 15 years from now?' Crap, I don't even know where I'll be (or want to be) 6 months to a year away, never mind 5 or more. The only desire that's remained constant with me is that I'd like to live in Europe, and even that seems to be dwindling into nothing more than a pipe dream that may never actually materialize, especially the longer it's kept 'on hold'. I try not to be resentful about it since I chose to move to Canada, met and married Lorne here and have since stayed put. But, truth is, there is absolutely part of me that resents it - some days more than others. The more the months and years drift by, the more I struggle with the idea it really might never happen.

I do understand Lorne's hesitations - he doesn't speak a foreign language for a start and his job as an Editor/Colourist for TV/Film is very specialized, perhaps not so easily transferred to, or available in, another country. Besides, he's very good at what he does, he thoroughly enjoys his work and is well recognized for it here. Meanwhile, I spend every day here not doing what I love - i.e. speaking another language; french, german or even mastering new ones. When I'm in Europe I can physically and emotionally feel part of me comes back to life that simply remains otherwise dormant and ignored in my Canada life. A part that I can't - and don't want to - let go of. But what do I do with it? What do we do?

I've suggested Holland or Scandinavia as a possible option if we were to move to Europe (or even Germany for that matter) since they speak such good english anyway, but I'm not sure Lorne can do it. We held off while all of our cats were seniors and in various stages of decline, feeling it'd be too much to put them through. Well, that's no longer an issue - with our current brood all being so young.

We talked more seriously about it in 2008, even discussing whether we would move to Bristol in the UK (where I went to university) as a base for travelling more into Europe. But then came the worldwide economic crash, I was laid off from my job and we decided it best to wait and ride out the recession. And then, last year, breast cancer and all its associated uncertainties came along and the priority became getting that all sorted out and particularly here, where we have access to some of the world's best medical expertise.

So here we are, another 5 years on from our 2008 conversations, and I'm still in a nomadic flux workwise - contracting back at my old job (which is coming up for a year soon) with nothing in line for when this wraps up in a month or two. And what do I even look for after that? The struggle to get motivated about looking for work really wears on me, mentally and emotionally, and completely erodes my self-esteem. I'm not even sure if it's a Vancouver thing, with salaries here being the sh*ts - especially compared to the ridiculous cost of living - and they want a whole wack of high-level expertise and years of experience for even the most entry-level crap. Most job descriptions sound like the work of 10 people for the salary of 0.3.

As you can probably tell, I'm not in the most positive frame of mind these days. In fact this past week I've felt particularly blaaaah! It's coupled with that sense of being mid-forties too, I can't deny that. I just can't wrap me head around my age and feeling like I should surely be on a better career path of some sort by now and at least know just what the f*ck I want to do with my life. I struggle with trying to think what job would I like to do and what can I even expect to get, compared with 'well, it's just a job - use it to pay the bills and don't get so bent out ouf shape about it.' Only I don't have the mental tolerance for complete boredom at work just for the sake of a paycheque. I have to enjoy what I do and get some level of personal fulfillment out of it.

It hasn't helped that I choked down a whole bunch of pride at my present job recently and finally offered up my services on a more permanent level, should there be an opportunity within the Marketing team here. In other words (and if I'm honest with myself) I was offering to prostitute myself back to them and come back full-time if there's an opening. Because really, that's what it would be since I still personally and fundamentally disagree with a lot of what goes on there - their involvement in Alberta Tar/Oil Sands projects, their obsessive lust for developping on greenbelt land and vacuuming up environmentally sensitive areas and animal habitat only to replace it with featureless condos, strip malls and big box Home Depot outlets! Plus the company is SUPER-corporate. I mean nauseatingly, sole-crushingly, Big Brother-like corporate. Working there as a freelancer this past year has graciously spared me that obligation, but going back full time would bind me once more to the suffocating expectation of being 'one of us....one of us.....'. 

In my heart of hearts, I know the reason I even suggested being hired back full time was a) for job/financial security (pay's not bad), b) because I really do enjoy the writing, editing, graphic design and marketing I get to do there (even if the architectural/construction subject matter isn't quite my ideal choice)  but c) perhaps primarily, because it would be the easy way out and would save me the inevitable and horribly awkward job search.

So, having floated the idea out there to my boss (who's leaving in November to travel the world for three years with her husband....grrrr), I was advised that they hadn't yet decided on just how things/jobs would be moved and reshaped within the Marketing team just yet, but would keep it in mind. Next thing I know, I get not one, but TWO emails - direct to my work inbox no less - from CSMPS (Canadian Society for the Marketing of Professional Services) both are job postings.....for positions at this company.....in Marketing! And so I have my answer! God damn that chunk of pride I'm still choking on!

I guess one person is moving up and they're looking for a replacement Proposal Coordinator (which is the job I used to do when I worked there before and wouldn't particularly want to do again) and they're hiring another, much more junior level (read cheaper) person as Marketing Coordinator. Personally I would have appreciated my boss at least letting me know that, but hey - now that it's in my face, I've been honest with myself about how much of a cop-out it would have been for me anyway. In fact (and I'm really not just saying this), I'd been asking myself more recently if I wasn't just hoping to get hired back because it'd be the easiest option and I'm too lazy/daunted/intimidated and clueless to know what else I should be aiming for anyway. I do feel like I'd be selling myself somewhat short to go back as an employee, even if they did want me to, coupled with a demoralizing lack of faith in finding anything that personally interests, inspires, motivates or challenges me, ideally without destroying the environment, promoting consumerism or harming animals in some way. Is that asking too much?

Anyway, what with that and other stuff 'n' nonsense, I've been thoroughly beating up on myself this past week....or longer. Feeling old, redundant, superfluous, unattractive, indecisive, insecure and generally very mid-frikkin-forties! I should just let go of the whole age thing really, after all it's only gonna get worse. But I think it's not so much the number 45 (okay, maybe it is), but also/rather the fact I don't know where I fit or what to do or where to go. What's more, I resent this horribly unsettling feeling and the way it completely undermines any confidence or self-assuredness I might feel otherwise. Gawd it's like being an adolescent all over again!

I'm alive, I have my health, I have the love of a good man, I live a good life and, on the whole, that all makes me incredibly lucky. And yet, when I feel like this, that whole 'very lucky' shit just doesn't cut it!

Like I said at the beginning of this verbal diarrhea - it's all shamefully self-indulgent and utterly first-world kind of crap. And yes, I do feel guilty for it. Because seriously, what's the use in navel-gazing if you don't add a relentless dollop of guilt to boot?

Les Enfants Sauvages

It took me a while to notice the "Next Blog" link in the upper left corner of my homepage where you can click through to the next blog and the next etc. I've clicked through a few times before now, taking a peek into other people's worlds and learning a little more about the lives, loves, creativity, and daily trials and tribulations of people I've never even met.

Mostly I seem to fall upon blogs about diabetes, not sure why that is since I don't have diabetes (thank goodness) and have never written about it here. Often it's a blog with a distinctly religious slant which I, personally, have little interest in. Each to his own, I absolutely don't mind if someone wants to blog that kind of thing, but it's just not my cuppa tea, as I'm sure my own is of little interest to most people.

Many bloggers are new parents, recording every moment of their children's lives which, even as a non-kidlet person myself, can nevertheless be quite endearing to read (as long as it's not too schmaltzy). Some blogs are uplifting in spite of their content and one quite literally moved me to tears a few years ago. (The heart-wrenching journal of a young woman nursing her ailing 18-year old cat through its last days and struggling, for many months afterwards, to come to terms with her unrelenting sense of loss and emptiness - a familiar story that's a little too close to home. Pet-lovers among us all know that it's never 'just a cat', or dog, or gerbil....)

While it still feels a little voyeuristic at times, I enjoy these momentary, candid connections with complete strangers and often catch myself, even months later, wondering about the lives of those whose blogs I've stumbled upon. Their stories, thoughts and experiences told in words of wit, hope, love, desperation, anxiety, nostalgia, humour, compassion and charm. There's so much to share and learn from one another and so many people out there are doing such amazing - or delightfully mundane - things, or else fretting and over-analyzing the day-to-day (what a relief to know I'm not on my own).

But clearly not all blogs need words to tell a beautiful and charming story, which is certainly how I felt when I stumbled across this wonderful blog just recently: Alain Laboile Photographies. Quelles merveilleuses images d'une enfance sauvage et tellement fantastique!

It's a remarkable feeling to be captivated, enchanted and so wonderfully inspired by someone you've never even met, simply through their photographs and the stories they tell. Beautiful, funny, endearing, sensitive, delightfully candid and evocative images which, through lack of accompanying text, are every bit as au naturel as the children within them.

Bare, muddy, feral kids, running wild through sodden fields, clambering the banks of murky rivers and cannon-balling into their backyard, dug-out swimming pool. Just as spirited and carefree as kids should be.

I couldn't help but include a selection of Alain's pictures here but I encourage you to check out his site, Alain Laboile Photographies, to see for yourself just how beautiful these images really are. I am truly in awe of him - I can only aspire to ever have a single ounce of his incredible talent at portrait photography and his ability to capture so perfectly the raw essence of childhood; in such simple, naive, funny and truly natural moments of his family's daily life; kids simply being free to be kids. So wonderfully sauvage, discovering life on their own terms. Similarly, their delicate connections with each other - despite their varied ages - and with the rural landscape and nature that surrounds them; cats, kittens, birds, insects, snakes and even a fawn. 

What's more, this fabulous photographer shares the very same birth date as me and lives near Bordeaux - my favourite place in France, where I'd always intended to live. Ho-hum.

Sinking into Sóley

I like to think I have a varied taste in music. A quick spin through my Ipod will reveal anything from Arcade Fire, Brazilian Girls, Cat Stevens, Charlie Parker, DeVotchka, Doves, Elliott Smith, Fluke, Frightened Rabbit, Goldfrapp, the Heavy, Hey Rosetta, Interpol, Iron & Wine, Jagwar Ma, Jesca Hoop, Kate Bush, LCD Sound System, Lemon Jelly, Massive Attack, Marilyn Manson, The National and Nine Inch Nails to Oreanda Fink, Patrick Watson, Pickwick, Portishead, Queens of the Stone Age, Radiohead, Ray La Montagne, Stellastarr, Sufjan Stevens, Thelonious Monk, Tricky, TV on the Radio, Underworld, Unkle, Vivaldi, We are Augustines, Wilco, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and finally, Zero 7. Not to mention a lot of other great artists in-between.

Mainstream radio in Vancouver is utterly diabolical! You're unlikely to hear any of the above artists let alone be introduced to any new ones. Instead you'll find yourself brainwashed into total moronification by an endless, nauseating loop of absolute sh*te from a handful of dreadful bands, repeated over and over and over and over and over and........

Thankfully, since first dating Lorne in 2001, I was also introduced to KEXP.org - a fantastic non-commercial radio station out of Seattle and I have KEXP* (and their fabulous morning host, John Richards) to thank wholeheartedly for not only helping us to develop such a ridiculously bloated music library, but for the abundance of fantastic bands we've seen play live - bands we might never have heard of otherwise - of which I would highly recommend Arcade Fire and DeVotchka for putting on a truly oustanding live performance.

But, to get back to the original point of this post, while my music library is fairly diverse (and amen to iPod for saving me the weight of lugging a million cassettes/CDs around) I am nevertheless embarrassingly inept at venturing to describe musicians, music styles or anything musical really so, other than listing What's New On My Ipod I've never gone into detail here. However, since discovering a new singer-songwriter lately, one I'd never even heard of, I decided I might just give it a try.

T'would appear I'm arriving somewhat late to the party on this one, but I recently discovered the rather enchanting album, 'We Sink' (which actually came out in 2011) by the artist, Sóley.

Sóley is a young, icelandic singer-songwriter, normally associated with the band Seabear (who I'll also have to look up now) and We Sink is apparently her first full solo album, following on from the release of her 2010 debut EP, Theatre Island (also on my list). I can only hope I'm doing Sóley justice in describing her as a captivating and unique, poetic, indie-folk artist.

We Sink is a hypnotic dreamscape that glides gracefully between whimsy, melancholy, the supernatural and child-like bewilderment. Singing in little more than a delicate whisper, Sóley's intriguing lyrics seem to roam the desolate hallways of an abandoned house, sprinkled with eerie and nostalgic echoes of old toys, broken music-boxes, erratic wind chimes and simple piano notes. The overall quirkiness of this album is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland meets Great Expectations.

I'll have to listen a little more to determine which song might be a favourite. For now I'm enjoying the wistful, ethereal undertones of the album's entirety as it wavers between dream, memory and nightmare. Kill the Clown is a particularly disturbing, yet strangely alluring song - not least because I've always hated clowns! Hmmm, perhaps not one for bedtime listening.


Well, that's my humble opinion anyway and hopefully I'm not completely off the mark with my first (somewhat minimalist) attempt at a review.

I'm already looking forward to the next journey with Sóley. I doubt she'll disappoint.

*Incidentally, if you tune into KEXP.org this week, please don't be put off by the fact they're doing one of their twice yearly membership drives, being a public-funded, non-commercial radio station 'n' all. (It finishes this Friday.) We've been appreciative members for more than 10 years - especially after all the amazing music and live acts we've been introduced to through them. Believe me, they really are worth supporting! 

Three Times the Charm

Wohooo! I've finally been given the all-clear after a third....and last (I hope).... ultrasound on my left boob and surrounding lymph nodes. The couple of areas they were keeping an eye on since July last year, and again in February, were checked once more last week and a follow-up visit with the insipid oncologist Dr. N confirmed the results that (thankfully) there really is nothing to worry about. He even added, "I suspect the only reason your lymph nodes are so easy to feel is because you're very slim".

Ordinarily I could have taken that 'very slim' thing as a compliment, except that he hadn't yet done that one last examination of my boobs, so I knew the ol' lumpy-bumpy comment would soon follow - again! And he didn't disappoint. In fact, with two trainees also there to check things out, Dr N surpassed himself this time by adding 'with no disrespect intended'...that my left boob is particularly lumpy-bumpy.....cobbley.....even a little gristly in places. What the f*ck! "Hello, I am still in the room you know!" (I wish I'd said.)

Bloody charming! Not satisfied with referring to them as lumpy-bumpy on my previous visits, he decided to outdo himself. Cobbley was certainly bad enough, but gristly??? Like some unpleasant, semi-masticated glob of meat spat out on the side of a plate? Are you kidding me? Jerk!

So, as you can imagine, any whaff of a compliment intended by the 'very slim' comment was soon beaten to a pulp by the descriptors that followed. At least the two female attendees had the diplomacy and discretion not to add anything further in that regard - perhaps sensitive to the unabashed ignorance of one's boobs being so mercilessly critiqued.

Needless to say, I finished off the appointment by shaking his hand and saying, 'No disrespect, but I hope never to see you again.' Which could be taken several ways.

That aside, I am obviously very relieved to have another lingering element of the past 15 months over with. No cancer to see here folks - yay!!!! And breathe.....

Apart from the follow-up pelvic ultrasound booked for next Thursday, I am thankfully DONE! I'm sure next week's will be just fine too, the bloating finally stopped weeks ago and I've been feeling really good lately. Heck, I didn't even gain weight on vacation, so there's a first. Quite a relief too since my weight seemed to be climbing upwards for a few weeks there.

Outside of Tamoxifen, all that remains of this ridiculous cancer ordeal is next week's appointment and the final verdict on the gene testing currently underway, for which the results may not be determined for a few months yet. Safe to say I will be very glad to close this chapter once and for all.

(Oh and, for the record, Lorne assures me he would never for one minute consider my boobs to be remotely 'cobbley' and definitely not 'gristly'. He has to say that but, believe me, I've kept a careful hand on my boobs these past 15 months, and can assure you those words have never come to mind for me either.)