It's all New York to me

A shameful fact about me: I've never been to New York. I mean, come on! What the hell have I been doing all this time? I'm an American, godammit, and I have never even been to the most American place on the planet!? Well...maybe Las Vegas, but that's more like kitsch version. So, tomorrow night I take off to N.Y. with two of my friends, a mysterious Japanese person, and my husband. What adventures await us? Well...for sure a few nights in a shitty hotel and a visit to the Guggenhiem museum. Maybe I'll even eat a hotdog from a street vendor! Fancy that.

Hello Again

Ahh, well...this is embarrassing. On several occasions I have logged in, typed up a post and subsequently deleted it. I admit it's a problem of mine, that is, losing interest in my own hobbies. The giant lull in blog posts mainly came from a long stretch of winter blues. At the time I was not working nor going to school and I just didn't feel fit to talk about anything. The creative juices had frozen solid.

But things have changed for the better (mainly due to no longer being locked in the dungeon of winter). I'm five months into full-time French classes. It's crazy. I'm the only American in the entire school amongst every other nationality of the world. I get a strange mixture of attention from people practicing their English on me to serenading me with Justine Bieber. The entire experience is quite bizarre, but in a really positive way. Awkward moments seem to be the norm, so I feel right at home.

I don't know how much I can promise to this blog. Honestly I'm just busy and tired everyday. At times I feel a little silly coming here to post about my otherwise normal life. Though, if I were to approach posting in a blog as something completely profound and never done before, then I would just be fooling myself. In all of this running around, I just need to find a little time to reflect.

And here a picture of a cat sleeping.

I think my blog needed a little touching up...nothing that a little original art can't fix! Matt's mother gave us a printer/scanner, which allowed me to scan one of my drawings.

Now that my residency is edging towards finalization (after an entire year!) I have begun the foot work for applying for Grad School. It's like a stress-inducing walk through memory lane...emailing my old professors and requesting my transcripts is triggering some feelings of anxiety, which was pretty much my mental state throughout my entire college career. Yeesh, what I am getting myself into?

On an unrelated note, I suddenly piqued an interest in reading the Wikipedia bios of old Hollywood actresses from the past...you know, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Judy Garland and the likes. Their stories made me realize how insanely driven and legitimately crazy these women were. I mean, they practically grew up in show biz. They worked their ass off, were plagued with vicious insecurities, struggled with self-worth and addictions and on top of it all had to sing and dance and look stunning throughout all of it. I'm convinced that modern actresses don't have to try half as hard as those women to attain such fame. Joan Crawford said herself "getting there is easy, staying there very difficult".

First real snowfall. The lockdown has commenced. From this day on, it's all long nights lit up by Christmas lights and the glow of open laptop monitors. Headphones on, head down, and feet buried under the snow. These are the song of the winter time.

Teenagers

Teenaged girls. Somehow I feel like I never accepted or capitalized on my teenage-hood. It wasn't until my years in college that I ever got that generally accepted notion of That Teenaged Experience....or more like the version of adolescence that movies show us. Only now is it that I look back on those teenaged girls whom I adored and secretly knew I would never really turn out like, and wonder what I could of experienced if I had gotten to known them better. There was one girl, Paula, who was my sister's friend.

My sister and I were still fairly okay with hanging out with each other despite our difference in age. And every now and then I'd get to hang out with her and Paula. My sister and Paula were girls scouts together...and I think thats how they met. Paula had wild white curly hair. It stood out everywhere. She was always so pale..pink white. She read Tank Girl comic books, took ritalin, and was into witchcraft. She was an only child who was adopted. The way she dressed herself was unlike anyone I had ever seen...she was like a villain character in one of my many comic books. There just wasn't anyone I knew who was even half as cool as her.

Once, she and my sister dug a cave in the side of a tall sand embankment along the creek. One night they snuck out of their homes to camp out in their cave...so with candles and sleeping bags they slept there. I think I remember the night they snuck out, and how I wished so badly that I could come with them.

Then my sister and Paula went through high school. Of course everything changed, as they often do, and I haven't seen nor heard from her in years. Last I heard she was working as a gunsmith somewhere. Of course she would be a gunsmith.

Pinups and playboys

My friend Alyssa had contacted me a couple weeks ago asking if I would be interested in taking some photos of her for her boyfriend's birthday. When she had asked me, ideas of a 50's style pin-up photo shoot started running through my head. She is really the perfect model for it too...she is like a pint sized Marilyn Monroe! So, I dusted off my lighting rig, rearranged some furniture and busted out some outfits for her to wear. Afterwards it was pizza and wine time....I think everyone went home happy. The rest of the set can be found at my Flickr page ;)

The curse of Halloween as finally been lifted.

For the past five years, I have had a tenuous relationship with the accursed night. But, I love Halloween. I mean, who doesn't really? As a kid, I used to LIVE for that night...preparing for days the haunted house that I would construct in my grandmother's garage. I simply wanted one thing: the scare the living bejeezuz out of all the neighborhood children. Nothing makes me more happy that the terrified shrill of 6 year olds in Ninja Turtle costumes. But, Halloween took a sharp nosedive into pure suckiness once I moved out of my parent's house and away from the limitless supply of tiny babies for me to frighten. In the age of late teen and early twenty-somethings it became about going to huge street parties dressed up as some ironic celebrity and vomiting out the 12 shots of vodka that you received from a "slutty Rainbow Bright" or something of the sort. I would foolishly go along for the ride and curse every second of my decision.

It went on like this for the past five years. Not always some huge party, but always an enormous setup for bone-crushing disappointment. What happened to my beloved holiday? Suddenly it had this huge pressure to become "the best night ever" and had to involve waiting in line...outside...in the cold...in costume that was not suited for the weather... After so much disappointment, I learned to not get excited. In fact, I came to simply dread any plans for Halloween and would prematurely write the night off as a disaster.

But there is a good ending to this story. While all of the odds were against me, I managed to have the best Halloween in a long time. It didn't start off promising though. Matt and I really didn't have an clear plans and around 7:00 it started snowing. But, despite the fact that the weather had turned into bullshit, we met up with some good friends of ours at their little pad downtown, started with a couple of drinks and a crappy Icelandic movie about being stranded on a whaling boat. The company was good and everyone's mood was warm despite what was going on outside. Later we shuffled through the rain and snow to the kookiest little bar. This place seemed like it was MADE for Halloween. It was a little punk rock joint down in the basement of these 100 year old buildings. The moment I walked in, I felt like I was in a movie. There were skeleton boys, black cats and little ghoulies everywhere, two pitchers of Montreal beer and a Cramps cover band that was fronted by a skinny kid in his underwear was playing on stage. Everything just seemed right in a perfectly demented way. I leaned over to my friend, Myra and shouted in her ear, "Best Halloween in a long time! Thank you!".

Matt and I have been married for one year! We had discussed what to do to celebrate our very first anniversary... Our friends had suggested fancy restaurants or booking a weekend in some high falutin' hotel. But most of those ideas just seemed to fall flat for Matt and I. The truth is: we just aren't classy people. High-end stuff just comes off as stuffy and pretentious. So we had decided to drop by our favorite (or rather ONLY) tiki theme restaurant and to attend the annual Magic of Lanterns festival at the botanical gardens. It had been raining most of the day, but the sky cleared up just long enough for us to stroll fancy-free through the magical glowing wonderland. I couldn't of asked for a more perfect night...The air was warm, the rain had stopped, and we practically had the entire garden to ourselves. As we walked hand-in-hand, I felt as if I was glowing as brightly as the colorful lanterns that lit the path under our rhyming footsteps.

Room to grow

Weekend trips outside the city are pretty rare for me. Usually by the time the weekend has arrived, Matt and I are ready to hit the city streets in search of some undiscovered excitement. But this last weekend was a welcome break from the norm: my friend Julie invited us along with her twin sister to spend Labor Day weekend at her parent's home in the country. Or more specifically, to attend the Brome County Fair...with barn animals, cotton candy, carnies and all. There really is nothing more down-home than a county fair...Though, those types of events are geared toward children with little or no fear of being killed on shoddy looking carnival rides or eating questionable looking "food-on-a-stick". So, we spent our time petting horse heads and squealing at the little piggies in the hay. After a thorough day of getting animal residue on our hands, we took the secret dirt road to Julie's childhood home.

Julie's parents own a lovely piece of land surrounded by a beautiful, fern covered forest. Just up the road you could see the hills and mountains in the distance. Picturesque beauty...the kind of setting that you might imagine a fairy tale about a little farm girl or magical pig. Places like that let my imagination roam...I could see my younger self hiding in the woods, building forts and pretending to play with fairies in the ferns. Part of me wanted to be left alone there, free to indulge in the beauty around me. The forest brings me some kind of comfort...just sitting there, listening to the wind blow across the canopy. The air itself seems to have some miraculous healing attribute. I wished that I had my camera to photograph the moment, even though the act would lack any ability to capture what I was feeling.

The evening was spent outside on the back porch with Julie's family, huddled around an open fire. That night Matt roasted a marshmallow on a twig for the very first time. Julie and I nodded with approval as we allowed the city boy to participate in us country folk's holiest of rituals.

Elam-sister-reunion 2010 has already come and passed. Having my sister around for the past ten days has been a welcome comfort in a new life that I am still adjusting to. When we are in eachother's presence, its as if no time has ever passed at all...sure there is the obligitory catching up to do, but we are always tuned into one another's brains like a couple of freaky Siamese twins. Though, I didn't realize how much I had missed her until Matt and I dropped her off at the airport. Time eventually soothes the pain of distance, but the constant "goodbyes" keep pulling at the tender sutures. I'd like it if everyone that I loved didn't live on opposite ends of the continent...but what can be done? The future is painfully opaque, and one never knows where it may lead them next. But, I suppose its all part of the human experience...what would happiness mean if it were never tempered by a sting of sadness? Overwhelming joys and painful lumps of sad emotion in the throat: all beautiful, and all necessary.

Wistful lessons aside, it has been a wonderful summer and it will soon be coming to a lovely close (even though I am trying to pretend that I don't notice the leaves changing). It is hard to believe that I have been here for nearly a year! I've come a VERY long way from when I first arrived, suitcases and cat in-hand. I'm a little older now...I FEEL older now. But not in that whiney "oh I still wish I was 18" kind of way. Adulthood is new territory, and its not all bills and taxes either. Its weird...you never really notice yourself turning into an adult, and then all of the sudden you look around and you're like "wait a minuet, I'm driving myself to the grocery store to pick up stuff to cook for dinner...wasn't I just playing in the sprinklers like 2 seconds ago? OH where has my childhood gone?!" But then you get over it when you realize you no longer have to ask your parents to drop you off at the mall or have to finish any algebra homework.

Well, phase deux of summer guests has already passed. This is the furthest north that either of my parents have ventured, and I'm glad to report that their impressions of Montreal have been surpassed. My mom stayed for about two weeks while my dad only stayed for one. Unfortunately he regretted not booking his stay longer...though, I suppose its better than feeling like you can't wait to leave. I know that by the end of it all, they both came to understand why I gave up my home state for this place. As my parents said themselves "Whats not to like?". Summer in MTL is something to behold, for certain. Although, I have this reoccurring dreams where winter comes suddenly without any warning or transition. Everyone around me just says "Oh well, thats how it goes!" while I'm dying on the inside. Summer, why can't you just hang around forever? Blah, I shouldn't be lamenting summer just yet...we are still in the heart of it!


As wonderful as is to be in my current state, there is one thing that eats at me... Its the fact that I am pretty much suspended from doing anything interesting on my own. My pending residency prevents me from working, attending school, leaving the country to visit friends and relatives, or even driving (the non-driving being the most irritating). I know once I get my precious residency things will finally become accessible. But for now I'm stuck in the no freedom zone. There are worse things, I suppose. It will all eventually come to be and I will be free to complain about other superficial shit.

• Our first wave of summer house guests has already come and gone. Matt's friend from university, Silvie, came from BC to stay with us for a couple of weeks. By the end of the trip it became obvious to her that she had to move back to Montreal. I think this city has that enchanting effect on people...it certainly got its teeth into me.

• After much unneeded apprehension, I have actually started to bike around town. I had to get over the mental hurdle of biking in a busy city and just calm down. The last time I actually biked anywhere was back in my old neighborhood out in East Texas. Back then I would usually just ride down to the lake to go harass some ducks. Montreal is a perfect city for biking with all of its extensive bike paths and numerous parks (with plenty of ducks to harass). Traveling by bike makes everything in the city seem so much closer and connected. And I promise I won't be like those biker-assholes who blow through the red lights and get themselves killed.
  

• The second wave of guests is upon us! This time its the parents and I'm so excited to finally have them see my happy little life here. There is so much to see, do, hear, eat, and buy that I don't even know where to start. I just hope it won't be as blistering hot so my dad won't melt away. I know he thinks that Canada is supposed to be a year-long cool temperature paradise...but SURPRISE it gets hot here too.
  

• It has been agreed upon by our friends that Matt and I are "the power couple". We commonly hear the compliment that Matt and I "don't act like you're married", or that "you guys never fight, its as if you actually like each other". I don't mean to ring my own bell here, but I have to admit that he and I are very pea-in-a-pod like. There seem to be a lot of people who believe that a relationship is hard work and that arguments are inevitable. Maybe its just me, but I beg to differ. Relationships should be easy. If there is so much in-fighting and disagreements, then maybe it isn't meant to be. Life can be hard enough, why bring those hardships into the sanctity of your relationships? I dunno, he and I might have it a little easier due to our laid-back personalities.

• I might be totally late on this scene, but I just discovered the blog, Hyperbole And A Half and I can't stop from reading it and giggling hysterically to myself. Her little illustrations kill me...

• I'm not usually the type to stress out about going to the hair salon, but this last trip opened up some pretty tense feelings about the whole experience. It all started when I saw some adorable shop girl in this amazing vintage store in town. She was pretty much exactly what I wanted to be (I hate that!). She had the cutest bright pink dress on, a pair of vintage heels, and this super short, bright blond pixie haircut. I pointed her out to Matt and I said, "I want that to be me". So I had it in my head that I was going to get my hair bleached and cut uber short. After much deliberation and flipping through magazines to find the perfect style, I made my appointment at the Funky Toque. When I arrived Saturday morning at 11:30 with a slight hangover from the 200 Mojitos I had the night before with Silvie and her friends, I was feeling a little less confident about my brash hair decision. The receptionists sat me down with the haircolorists and I explained to her what I wanted...she pretty much said no and made me choose another color. I went for a lighter, more coppery red. After the dye job I was feeling at a loss as to what to do for my cut...my plans had been dashed and I was scrambling to find something that I wanted. It needed to be different enough to justify spending the cash to have it dyed and cut by expensive city-people. The color actually turned out much better than I thought and the hair stylists sensed my confusion about a cut and gave me this ultra mod bob. I was a bit apprehensive at first, thinking that I would look like one of the Back Street Boys. But to my reliefe it turned out wonderfully swinggy and sophisticated...whew!

• I realize that most of the text on the post went to talking about my hair.
  

What is it with all of these Asian blogs "commenting" on my posts? Ugh, it probably has something to do with getting my account deleted for being suspected as SPAM. Annoying! Yay!

The other day I was watching some recap of the Much Music Award show on TV for some reason and it occurred to me that I have no idea who any of these new celebrities are. Well, obviously I have heard about some of them, but the majority were completely new to me. What the hell is Snookie? Why are people going crazy for a 12 year old boy who looks like an adorable little girl? When did Hannah Montana turn into a ho? Who is Katy Perry and why is she ejecting whipped cream out of her boobs? Ahhh!!

But one thing that drives me absolutely bonkers is everyone and their duck telling me that I need to be in love with Lady Gaga. People are all saying "Oooh she's so original and shocking! She wears Alexander McQueen! She writes her own music!". Excuse me? She looks and sounds like every other pop monster that was spawned from the MTV monster. If you never saw the woman on TV and just listened to her music, you would soon realized it sounds just as bland and homogeneous as every other pop song on the radio. It only becomes more apparent that she is an unoriginal hack when you see her horrendously over budgeted music videos. And why should I be impressed that she writes and produces her own music? Shouldn't that be the prerequisite of EVERY musician? GAHH! Lady Gaga simply exemplifies my theory that most people like terrible things.

There is so much good, original music out there. People just need to listen to it. You want weird? Forget Gaga, try Cocorosie.

I'm back to life!

Yay! I got my blog back! Apparently it was falsely identified as SPAM and the process to get it reviewed and back online is a slightly complicated process. But, the powers that be fixed it and I am as happy as a lark...and Lord knows how happy larks are.

Tonight Matt, myself and some friends got wind of a free Arcade Fire concert that was being held in a mall parking lot in the suburb of Longueil. Seriously, it was a perfect show. The weather was just right, no opening band, we got prime location, and the sound was phenomenal. The show was a "secret" for all about of 3 seconds; there must of been about ten thousand fans there. Neither Matt or I had seen them live, so it was particularly special. There was such an exuberance in the air...the band, the fans, the little babies that hipster moms carted around in their strollers, everyone. Oh lucky me!

Nature is a marvellous force that purveys every corner of the universe. We owe our existence to a momentarily truce that will inevitably be broken by either our own doing or by a subtle occurrence in nature that would make life like ours incapable of surviving. It is only now, as an advanced society of people, that we can turn around and look at the splendor and unfathomable beauty of nature. We see the sunsets, trees, waterfalls, exotic animals, and astronomical movements as things of tremendous beauty. But this is really a recent phenomenon...The fact is that creatures who live under the pressure nature live in a constant state of stress and mostly die a horrible death by predation or starvation. Because we have cut ourselves off from nature, and have mitigated it's presence in our lives we can appreciate the more wonderful aspects of it. But there are those times when we either get caught by the natural world or unwittingly thrust ourselves back into it without the slightest clue of how to survive. Case in point, last weekend with Matt at the summit of Mont Tremblant...

...It started with an innocent motive, "Hey Mary, lets drive up to the mountains and have a nature day...go hiking and stuff". It sounded fantastic to me. I hadn't been outside of the city in months and wanted a little change in scenery. So we got up early and drove the 2 hours north and arrived at the ski resort town thats clustered at the base of the mountain. We paid the 18.00-a-person tickets to take the gondola up to the summit. We enjoyed the splendid panorama view that unfolded before us as we were hoisted further up the mountain. When we arrived to the summit, I noticed these annoying flies buzzing around. Not thinking much of them, we followed our trail map that lead us back down to the base. Now, my first mistake was wearing my cowboy boots instead of a legitimate pair of hiking shoes. This seems to be a common problem of mine: wearing inappropriate shoes. So I didn't really have much traction on the trail. The rocks kept slipping under my boots so we had to progress down very slowly. I couldn't even enjoy the view because I was constantly fixed upon the ground, watching every step.

I think we had gotten so transfixed on my shoes that we had gotten off trail. We were on a steep incline when we agreed that it was now too far to go back...it would just be exhausting hauling our sorry asses back up the slope. But at this point we had noticed that the flies from the summit were getting worse. I put my hand on the back of my neck to feel a whole cluster of flies attached to me by their horrible little mandibles. I panicked. I soon realized these were flesh eating flies and they were swarming us...the only people on the trail and their the focus of their blood thirsty attention. We had to get down ASAP, but it would be another hour or so before we could reach the base. The entire way down we were screaming and swatting and scrapping off clusters of flies off of our skin. They would fly into my ear and down my throat and up my shirt. It was fucking AWFUL to say the least. There came a moment in my panic stricken mind that we just might not make it. I might slip and break my ankle due to my slick boots and the flies would come and carry my body off.

Matt was the one who kept me from slipping too far. In situations like those the bond between your partner becomes stripped down and exposed. All reservations are thrown out, its just you and your partner trying to do the most basic action: survive! We kept each other's spirits up by simply laughing at how unbelievably absurd the situation was. Here we were, stuck alone on a mountain, running down hill like mad men while being eat alive by a swarm of flies. From the outsider's perspective, it must of been down right hilarious. Matt and finally made it to the base...we could hear the PA system in the resort blasting Lady Gaga. I never felt more happy to hear her shitty songs. By the time we had reached civilization, our faces and necks were covered in blood, our clothes dirty, and a crazed look in our eye. We b-lined straight for the car and drove straight home.

Now, I realize that we were not in any real danger. We weren't isolated in the middle of nowhere, and we were not being attacked by bears. But it did give us a taste of what nature has in store for those who do not have the luxuries of civilization. The natural world is harsh and mostly wants to destroy you. The only reason why we as a species are able to flourish is because we have scrapped bits of nature away and built a fortress around ourselves to keep her nasty flies out.

Miss moon is peeking down and into my crescent shaped window tonight. A lonely girl who likes to hide her face and come out only when she feels the night is just right. Some nights she had rather just stay in and not come out at all. Just as the moon does, we all shift though our different cycles in life...evolving triumphantly or shrinking away into the darkness. I sometimes look at the moon and wonder who else is gazing up at that wonderful little face.

My mom called today to read me a story that I had written when I was in the 4th grade. It involved me building a time machine and traveling aaallllll the way to the year 2000 where there were friendly robots, flying cars, glittering buildings, and dogs with leashes that could walk themselves! Oh my! The fanciful year of 2000 sure looked pretty amazing way back in '94. I know of a few people who would love to have those self-walking pet leashes. What's funny is that I somewhat remember writing it. Although (unsurprisingly) my spelling was so...err...creative...in retrospect, my mother had wondered if I should of been tested for dyslexia. I guarantee you I was just too distracted with my drawings to pay any attention to my spelling.

Its official. Summer is here and we are spending approximately 100% of it on a roof...whether it be our own or someone else's. It started with Matt and I going atop of our building and enjoying the weather or sunset. Then it turned into candlelight dinners up there. Next we went with some friends to a rooftop movie night and soon after for a BBQ that involved alot of scuttling about on a roof. Matt and I have turned into little squirrels and soon enough people are going to start setting traps for us.

I'm back on the Etsy wagon and it feels good...got myself a new mannequin and a ton of stock to photograph. I've been out of the game for a while now, so I hope the market is still fresh! I know everyone and their duck now sells vintage junk on Etsy.

Some things as of late....

• I went downtown to go shoe shopping for some sensible flats that would be useful for all the city walking I now do. I leave the store with a pair of 5 inch platform wedges. My only rational is "well, at least they're wedges". All of my practicality goes out the window when I come in contact with a swanky pair of shoes.

• I love cold pizza...especially for breakfast. I love ordering in pizza (which we RARELY do) just for the faint chance that I may have some left over to enjoy the next morning.

• Matt and I finally got ourselves the space-age Electrohome record player that we had been searching for. Though, all the credit really goes to our favorite retro furniture dealer that we have befriended...it pays to make flea market friends...it pays in sweet, sweet retro furniture discounts...oh yeah.

• I don't understand the people who walk around outside, dressed as if its still the dead of winter with their down-coats and mittens. For Christ's sake its practically summer people...trust the weather!

• I discovered from an unknown source that putting a long piece of Scotch Tape on my cat's back makes her flip out and run laps around the house. Pure hilarity.

• Cooking is one of those things that I never really expressed much interest in while living at home or even living on my own. Why bother when Mom cooks so well, right? But I must say, it makes total sense that someone who loves food as much as me would want to know how to make it herself. I mean, why not? You're going to eat the rest of your life...you might as well learn now to cook well.

• Every room in our condo has finally been painted. When we moved in, everything was either a pukish tan or some sick shade of flesh. What the hell is up with these non-colors? I don't understand people's aversion to bold colors that actually make a statement. Forget taupe, slate, and ecru. Give me real damn color! My mother gave me "House & Garden's Complete Guide to Interior Decoration" from 1970, and it is the most amazing decorating manual ever. If you just look through the pages you can see how people were unafraid to use bright colors, big patterns and innovated design. Granted, some of the examples shown are pretty freaking horrendous, but most of them are incredibly inspiring.

• Dirty martinis are my new thing. Save the sweet stuff for the children. Just pour the whole damned thing of olives in there!

• I like to read those take-out menus that we get in the mail. I just like knowing that I can order sushi, pizza, poutine, hot dogs, crepes, felafel, egg rolls, and whatever else anytime I wish! Not that I ever do...it just makes me feel like I'm really living in the city hahaha.

If there is one thing that Montreal has an abundance of, its concert venues. Matt and I have attended four concerts over the past few months (and are going to be seeing yet another tonight) and have yet to have gone to the same venue twice. Not bad! Last night we saw one of Jon Spencer's bands, Heavy Trash at the rather bare bones venue, La Sala Rossa. Now, if it were any person who was destined to fulfill a certain role in life, Jon Spencer would be that fellow. He was simply born to be on stage with a guitar and a microphone. I'm not even entirely sure if he even write his lyrics down or if he just improvises each night. He grunts, points, clutches the air and addresses the audience as if they are the disciples of his holy house of rock and roll. Matt and I certainly were believers that night.

Before the show we stopped at a restaurant that I had been eyeing for some time. Its this little greasy spoon called Rapido on the corner of a very busy and trendy street. I would always oogle the kitschy decor and packed booths as we walked past the huge windows. But as we arrived and were greeted by the creepy old waitress who stares at you just a little too long, I had a feeling things weren't going to be as good as I'd hoped. I ordered the Texan burger, which the menu had described as a patty with sauteed mushrooms and onions and Swiss cheese. Not sure what is so Texan about that, but it sounded good. Matt went for the chicken fingers at the last second as the waitress stared right down into his soul. When the food arrived it looked far more impressive than it had tasted. The burger's ratios were all wrong...a thin patty with a huge, thick bun. I could of had a better burger at A&W....mmmmm...Mama burger..... Matt's chicken fingers looked as if they had been found in the back of grandma's refrigerator and were cooked so hot that you wouldn't notice how bad they actually were. At least the fries were good. But in it's defence, Rapido is the kind of place you go to AFTER a concert or long night at a bar. Its the kind of place you cram into the booth with all of your friends while trying to sober up over poutine and smoked meat. That is to say, I probably would of liked this place alot better if I were drunk.

Fresh layer of paint.

I think a little cosmetic updating was overdue for my 'ol blog here. With all of this sunshine and rain, I am overcome with a perverse desire to clean.

Even though the mercury has risen well beyond the freezing point, there are still some stragglers who still dress as if it is the dead of winter. They walk around with their knitted toques and down-insulated coats. It as if they still don't trust that the seasons have turned.

I finally got the haircut that I have been trying to get for the past god-kn0ws-how-many years. Funny that it took a hairdresser who only speaks French to translate what I want into the perfect cut.

Last Friday the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club came rumbling into town for an extraordinarily loud and sweaty show...oh my. This was the third time that I had seen them play live, and its a scientific fact that they never disappoint. It was more like a contest of endurance between the audience and the performers. They played for a solid two hours, almost non-stop. Needless to say, after the show mine and my husband's ears were thoroughly destroyed. A true sign of an amazing performance!

I stumbled upon a beautiful girly fashion magazine the other day whilst loitering about the hair salon. Its called Foam. Their target audience might be a bit younger and more Californian than myself, but I find it to be like a less irritating version of Nylon.

Matt and I still have a couple other concerts to attend this month. Charlotte Gainsbourg Heavy Trash (one of Jon Spenser's many bands). I'm particularly excited to see miss Gainsbourg's performance...it seems she has had a bit of a renaissance with her latest collaborative record, touring schedule, award winning acting performances and not to mention her new Balenciaga perfume. She is just so intrinsically cool...

Professor Brian Cox may be the best thing that has even happened to astronomy. He has been the host of an absolutely beautiful mini series on the BBC called "The Wonder Of The Solar System". It's only five episodes long, which leaves me begging for more. Throughout the series he lists some of the most incredible discoveries of our own planetary system...and that the most fascinating worlds aren't even planets at all, but are the Saturnian moons and Galilean moons of Jupiter. What I appreciate most about Dr. Cox's presentation is his genuine, boy-like wonder and excitement he displays about the universe....plus he is a TOTAL dreamboat.

Times up. Winter is over. The remnant patches of snow lay in open fields like white, rotting corpses. The sun has over taken the sky and with it the sadness has been banished away forever...or at least until next winter. Suddenly, there is life on Mars again. The soil has thawed and the atmosphere has cleared to give way to Spring, and I cannot tell you how relieved I am. To be honest, I think I weathered the winter well enough. The cold makes you stronger, it seriously does. But I am glad that its over for now.

Yesterday was the first really nice day. So, Matt and I took off for a 7 mile hike from our condo through our neighborhood, to Little Italy, through the Plateau, for a stop in Chinatown for some nourishment, and finally to the Old Port where we took the Metro back home. Everyone was out walking their dogs or children. There is a sense of camaraderie amongst all living creatures on the street..even the little dogs strung from their owners step a little higher to the tune of the sparrows who have returned from their Southern vacations.