hogtown

strange snapshot: on the highway, we pulled up beside a truck carrying three levels of live pigs, in tiny apartments with windows for them to breathe. snouts and hoofs and curled tails peeked out at us. i'll take my pork chops with a hint of exhaust, please.

toronto: still bringing home the bacon!

scent of a woman

ah, the nose knows. i recently discovered some new scents from jo malone - lime blossom and wild fig. it's a curious addiction, perfume. on one hand it is the ultimate luxury. scented "water" -- a mini escape or pick me up. on the other hand, when you think of it as unnecessary chemicals on your skin with the sole purpose of smelling like something you're not meant to smell like. well, then it seems unwise. perfume makes a statement without words. better a whisper than a shout. i am really torn on the subject. wondering what it is about the stuff that appeals to me sometimes and doesn't at others.

imagine a bottle of "illusion" -- better than you seem to be. or realistic perfume names like "true sweat" or "toe jam" hmmmm...

awhile ago i took a ride with a crazy cabbie who had coated his seats in this overpowering seat cleaner, think febreeze meets men's cologne. anyhow, i got the stuff all over my coat, bag, etc and the damn cabbie stayed with me for days afterwards. he even left his mark in my closet.

somehow the idea of your scent lingering on someone you love seems romantic though -- a memory, a subconscious footnote.

jump! start

up start, start up, something about the cusp of spring makes you want to start -- something. here's hoping the light that spills into my apartment is full of determination. i think i'm going to take a walk around the block to kick start this monday.

one red paper clip

one red paper clip, can it "buy" you a house? check out this story about e-trading up and marvel.

it's friday, i'm in love

as the promise of the weekend settles into your step and your mind begins to wander past the practical to the indulgent...you know that friday has arrived.

it's friday, i'm in love.

ideas in art deco

the Design Exchange in Toronto = bliss. in case you have never been there, it's a renovated former Toronto Stock Exchange building in refined Art Deco style, downtown Toronto. it feels ultra deluxe. like nothing really bad could happen to you there. one corner of heaven must look like it.

last night as the trays of fancy bites swooped amid the New Media crowd at the Design Exchange, i caught myself reminising about the heady early days of life in Silicon Valley at the start of the internet boom. i worked for the founder of Alta Vista at the time and we used to sit in his office, watch the sunset, and collectively dream about the future of the web. it felt like we were part of something that was going to change the world.

i wish i could bottle that feeling. i'd call it "anything is possible."

cloud gazing

short but sweet. as my friend K. was leaving the house the other day, her son -- who is 2.5 years old, was sitting on the porch looking out the window. she asked him to come along, and he said "wait mum, i'm watching the clouds."

seems like everyone should make time for cloud gazing. that kid has his priorities straight.

fortune teller

buy me a hankerchief and a crystal ball, my future as a fortune teller is about to unfold.

the proof?

i had a dream a friend was taking me thru a tour of her new house. i sent her email about the dream, thinking it was an omen of good things to come. (she had just started looking for a place) turns out, she bought a house the night of the dream. hadn't told anyone yet. the funny thing is that on the weekend she showed me pictures of the place and my dream projected a modified version of that one. little did i know, that was the one. or did i?

a similar thing happened last year. i had a dream about another friend,K. in the dream she had two kids, a boy and a girl. so i told her about the dream, since she only had a boy at the time. turns out she was newly pregnant, hadn't even told her mother yet. as it turns out, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl last summer.

watch this space. this is the part of the movie where the heroine tries to nurture her newly discovered secret power.

foxtail fancy

weaving down the back alleyways and side streets in a mini van cab driven by a man from Trinidad, I say to him -"Hey what's that, your lucky rabbit's foot?" i point to a ratty tail hanging from his key chain. he smiled a cheshire grin and says, "No, man, that's me lucky fox tail." apparently it was twice the size in it's original form, and then for no reason it broke in half. the cab had an odd smell, maybe it was the rotting tail. we got to talking about the crazy things people do in the name of luck. he said in Trinidad people like to swim where the ocean meets the river, even though it's dangerous at high tide. my quirky grandma is famous for her four leaf clover finds. she has found dozens in her life. you know what they say, fortune smiles at some, laughs at others.

dancing in the aisles

went to rona and have begun a tradition of dancing in the aisles. they always have the cheekiest music on the loud speaker and for some reason i just break into geek dance. surrounded by toilets, sinks, and various gadgets what could be more entertaining? twice now i've been caught by staffers. try this, i dare you. it is quite liberating. i imagine somewhere in the depths of rona while viewing a security camera, someone else chuckles.

two brothers

you may remember our mafia guy, tony. he has a scratchy voice and his cell phone rings to the tune of Dallas. this week, we met his brother -- angelo. one brother nearly tears off your hand with a tight hand shake, the other has one of those soft dying, barely there shakes. he was an odd looking fellow., that angelo. his face was skinny but he had an enormous ass. (may sound like a mean observation, but it was really a surprizing feature on angelo -- made him seem like a cartoon character and significantly less tough than his mafia reputation would suggest) he looked like a cross between john cusack in being john malkovich and the guy from American Splendor. balding on top, long and stringy hair at the back. he liked to talk. we could barely sneak away, though he was charming. there is just one more brother in the family, left for us to meet. stay tuned...

lucky strike

she found her resting place in a few garbage bags in a recycling bin in the front yard. (i am sure the cat hearst will arrive to collect her any moment now) i couldn't bare to look, much less inhale as we pulled her from the window well. the fateful black corner is now empty. angels swooped in to carry her into her next life. her 9 here were well spent. rip, Lucky.

an appointment with god

he came into the waiting room wearing all white with white birkenstocks. the snow fell knowingly out the window. he smiled sweetly and his hands were warm. his office was minimalist with a touch of turquoise and a new age print of a sparkly blue circle hung on the wall behind his desk. the room smelled faintly like a spa. his eyes were intense. he pulled out a pair of pink glasses for me to wear. i was skeptical. i had the urge to burst out laughing, then a wave of my worst fears washed over me and manifested as tears down my cheek. take 7 drops of this potion in water, twice a day. heal, baby, heal.

packet o' spunk

rubbing her eyes from sleep, she stumbles into the kitchen to find a sky blue and electric yellow box on the impossibly clean counter.

the box declares boldly: Packet O'Spunk

moving in for a closer look, she sees the fine print on the back.

Remember how you felt after months of backpacking thru Europe? inspired. adventurous. irreverent. downright invinceable. Well then, grab 1 Packet o'Spunk(tm) daily with breakfast and you can achieve that same dose of inspiration without the Eurorail pass.

*Batteries sold separately, do not mix with Gin as it can cause hives.

there was a testimonial from Shirley in the far corner: (photo shows a wild eyed 78 year old with a cheeta print scarf.)

"Who knew there was a raging teenager within me! I haven't stopped dancing since I got started on Packet o'Spunk."

another one of life's mysteries, i'm afraid.

she's a supa freak

supa freak, she's supa freak-eh.

just as i decided to post tonight that song erupted from the telly. must have been a sign.

the biggest challenge since i got back is trying not to fall back into bad habits, lose my inner "kick in the pants", remembering the wisdom of philosphy read to me by hospital bedside...here's what the philosopher king read to me. (paraphrased)

life isn't too short, it's just we don't live it fully enough. we act like we have endless amounts of time when we should be very careful how and what we dole time out for. i think this is true for dreams too.

whenever i start to get a case of the mean reds, i'll have to sing my new athem.

she's supa freak-eh.

notice

we gave official 60 day notice today, so we are moving into our new place may 1st. in 60 days the walls will fill in, plumbing and electrical will fall into place. the count down begins. gentlemen, start your engines.

artifact found: black cat

warning: not for the faint of heart or cat lovers.

in that fateful corner of the basement, where the poetry was stashed, our plumber's crew found a dead black cat in the boarded up window well. poor thing, he was frozen stiff. hopefully, this is one of those reverse luck things. like a bird dropping on your shoulder is good luck. we need to call some kind of service to have Lucky removed. maybe that is what happens when you throw out your dead husband's poetry. someone in the heavens roared, and a sacrifice was made. our basement seems to be a magnet for strangeness. first the nativity set, then the journals, now this. stay tuned for more tales from the voodoo basement.

mystery revealed: polish journals

dN ran into thelma from next door as he arrived at the house to meet with the plumber today. we gave her the bag o' polish journals we found tucked into a corner of the basement. turns out her mother hid them there after her father died. they are filled with poetry. apparently her mother hated his poetry. i wonder what the real story is. anyone want to take a guess? maybe all the poems rhymed and were about past loves. that would drive any sane woman to stash her dead husband's books of poetry into a decaying corner in the basement. odd stash, i'll say that much.

strip naked we're fitting you for insoles

only in switzerland could they find a way to make something so geriatric, somehow sexy. it was surreal. my vision was slowly starting to come back as we headed on a train bound for a charming swiss town called Appenzell. my mum was my escort, seeing eye person. my dr recommended the orthopedic fitting from a small sports shop run by a former olympic skier. it's a long boring story unrelated to my eyes on why the custom insoles were needed. it's a bit like bringing the car into the shop for an oil change and fixing the squeaky brakes while you're at it.

anyhow, we find our way upstairs to the fitting area and there is a distracted fellow behind the desk who looks like the swiss version of robert redford though slightly more athletic. his female assistant is a 20 something bookish type who speaks more english than he does but that's not saying much. there is a large swiss woman in her 60s ahead of us, she sits beside the desk and flips thru a magazine in stocking feet as she waits for her insoles. seems mundane enough. i really wasn't expecting what happened next.

off to the side, there is a platform with stairs and a tv screen built into the top step that you have to walk up and step on before you begin, they take a few impressions, snapshots, whatever and then you go into a room around the corner. there's a curtain on the door, a few sleek modern chairs against the wall for waiting and then a computer and video camera on the other side of the room directly across from a black curtain and another tv screen that you step on. the assistant mimes to me to remove my clothes except the "pantalones and bikini." hmm...

in the muddle of half swiss german and half english i realize that i am supposed to face the black curtain (away from the room), there is a huge spotlight on me. I can see in my shadow that my shoulders are up around my ears so i take a deep breath, relax and conjure Karen Cain hoping my posture improves. next the bookish assistant tells me to remove the bikini and put on a headband (i am an aerobic queen from the 80s)...then please pull down the "pantalones" just enough so they can see the bottom of the spine. capture it on video. then this fan comes on from below, blowing luke warm air up at me. i am tricked into being the star of an orthopedic porn flick obviously.

i smirk to myself and say "Ah, black toe." Of course, my mother doesn't get the Lost in Translation reference and says, "Black door?"

across the room the assistant and robert are fussing at the computer, ignoring us in the quest for perfect insoles. what feels like 20 minutes pass. still facing the black curtain, I say "Can I get dressed now?" everyone else seems to have forgotten that i am nearly naked and still facing the black curtain. they wave me along, like "Sure, sure whatever." then two minutes later we are the ones casually flipping thru a magazine by the desk outside while new unsuspecting insole seekers arrive.

of course the insoles fit like a dream.

back from the edge

thank you zesty and not-a-poet for missing my blog and to everyone who checked up on me while I was away. i've missed blogging too. there's a good reason why there was a lapse in posts. i have just come back from the edge of blindness. it started at the end of september with a blurry paragraph from time to time. by early january, i couldn't see the toothpaste on my toothbrush or the tea in my cup, people's faces were missing, cars and signs on the street were a blur -no tvs or computer monitiors for me. after trying conventional approaches without much success, i ended up at a clinic in switzerland for treatment. they tested me for heavy metals and found high levels of palladium, mercury, lead and tin to name a few. using natural remedies, vitamins, detoxification methods, and neural therapy intensively for a month ---- my left eye is almost back to normal and my right eye is clearing too. (my right eye has been blurry for two years so it will take longer to recover) anyhow, i am grateful to be seeing these words as I type, for the gift of renewed vision and my ability to return to normal life again. it will take awhile to get rid of all the toxins completely but thankfully the dr's are optimistic for a full recovery over 1-2 years.