The Urban Firefly

Life Tastes Better With A True Compass

2011-09-20T04:11:00.000-04:00

Ahh..the winds of change. A welcome and soothing Psyche booster. Almost as good as yoga on the beach. What's the wind and why is it so timely you ask in a soft voice?

It's the self actualization of a very simple perhaps universally held view- artists and creative types really do have more fun. Duh, certainly circumspect for the ADD crowd (yes, I resemble that finely tuned group of nanoattention span seekers of shiny shiny) and that is part and parcel why the art world offers a more well-versed version of fun.

For those of us in good company- you know who you are. The winds of change that sweep away the stiffy partners, the spouses of a certain socially challenged, chino wearing, spreadsheet evangelist-of sorts who can never seem to fully enjoy the lifestyle so diligently divergent from the norm that they must toll for ungodly hours to drink from the chalice of Sand Hill Road..

The list of you can't do, would'nt look right, falls right onto that UN-holy to drive the BMW laden with subversive messages aimed at a certain axis of evil. My prattle is that the true axis of evil is the length that it took me to break away from the hydroponically- enhanced koolaid drinking cycle. My panache for Pinot has waned.

To save myself emotionally I needed to throw all that was controlling under the bus. That and the help of the paranoid camera hiding, email peeking -sneaking, cell-phone lurking presence that came along under the pretense of "needing to know."

Technology again comes to the rescue...this time in the form of tracking the dog. Just in time for the holiday shopping season! You too can track your canines' every pee stop to perhaps just the ones' your under surveillance spouse may jog in the a.m. This is the best gift for the truly paranoid. Or extra loving canine person in your world. I would be remiss to not point out the true marketing opportunity for those that seek to know all, while doing all, for the sake of the color inside the lines folks that we all know and loath.

So as I lie awake breathing in a fresh breath of newly unmonitored breath, I must thank technology. But I also must thank the artistic company of community that has brightened by life. You have shown me how to be true to myself artistically and creatively. And for that I thank you.

New Venue, Same Vibe

2011-05-21T00:51:00.000-04:00

http://artdujour-santacruz.blogspot.com/

A new venture and create vibe for the Santa Cruz set.

Ticket vs Text

2011-01-25T10:31:00.000-05:00

My old habit of ignoring parking tickets has made my new year resolution list. Gone are the days of easy breezy ignoring those pesky reminders that you owe $30 dollars to the municipal fairy god mother of fill in the blank city or town. The beauty of technology is that they know where you live and work. The Denver boot is liable to make it's way to a front tire upon which it shall rest until the fines and penalties are paid in full. I've worn out my luck with the parking gods. These days, it's better to be safe and pay the meter vs. karmic kisses from the parking gods lest they feel fickle.

Enter stage left- the ability to pay for a spot on the street voila! via my iPhone. Groovy is as groovy does, and this my friends is the next best thing to 'free' valet parking...yeah ya gotta pay... no digging, scratching around for that elusive quarter that rattles around every where except where ya need it- when it comes time to feed the meter. My sandy-toed little city- Santa Cruz has got to be the unsung hero, at least when it comes to smart government. Parkmobile and a phone is your super power to pay for your street parking sans digging for coins. Thank-you city council members, you made my day today! As I rock star parked next to Jamba on Pac ave for my bright-eyed blueberry with whey protein this morning, I was greeted with a small sticker placed meter-side with the announcement of the ability to pay for parking via my phone. Finally- government making my little life a little bit easier.

Many may sneer, as they contemplate the mundane routine of street parking. For the non-bourgeois (and we know who we are) this new technology makes the day a bit smoother, a tiny bit less frantic. Text messages sent from parkmobile will be the civilized love note alerting me of my status before it runs out.

Remember, it's the little things that make life easier. The app, btw...it's free. Thank-you city of Santa Cruz.

2010-10-30T09:20:00.001-04:00

The ole adage from many a sage: If it's not broken.. should be tattooed upon the foreheads of the powers that be at The Gap.

This week the crusty company tried to re invent itself. The A-ha moment came when the company finally realized it could only really change the look of khakis from ugly to uglier, then back to original ugly all with the help of a zillion dollar marketing campaign. The brilliant brains behind the brand this week unveiled something that makes the clothing look event more exciting, a new logo.
No surprise, the re design was met with the same enthusiasm one might experience pawing through the sales rack. Sales have flat lined, send in the khaki and white coated ER staff looks like the paddles are needed to resuscitate.
The stock was once a shining star on the NASDAQ. Sad to say my proxy vote faded along with my appetite for shopping at the ever morgue like environ a long time ago. Maybe it was the irritating way the bright shiny pony tailed followed me around re folding sweaters. Once a great source for jeans, company sales numbers faded and the stock dropped after that last brilliant re-design: Denim the death rattle for Gap. Forgot to mention it's signature white shirts are still available. Too much excitement for you and your wardrobe?

I've got an idea, sell tea. Why you ask? Parent namesake The Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company is currently trading at three bucks and change. Khakis are no longer the draw perhaps selling Tea could be the much needed breath. Otherwise there's always a way to re invent khaki: adult diapers covers, matching oxygen canister covers, wheel chair and Prius seat covers.

It's gotta be better than what's currently on the sale rack.

The World Could Use More

2010-10-17T22:49:00.001-04:00

The clock tics toward November 4th. Meg Whitman must do her own dishes now that it's come to light that keeping indentured servants runs afoul to her current campaign strategy. While Ms. Whitman is enjoying her Palmolive moment let's take a moment to contemplate the local template.

In many ways living in a new zip code every few years affords me the opportunity to re tune my internal radar and reassess my own political compass. My true North has come closer to center than I ever imagined possible. I suppose I shall blame that upon the current quagmire of the state of CA but also federally the political malaise runes deep on both sides.

What's a girl to do?

Leaving the his and her Bentley crowd of Los Gatos, landing in the northern hemishere of Labatt's swillin maple leaf flag wavers where long held assumptions faded along with my memories of California sunshine. Toronto has a shiny urbane surface with all it's left wing leaning health care, gun shy non-moose hunters and non deadbolt securing hockey fans. Maybe this change of latitude would offer a shiny new socialist bent but alas the only plus was the fast track lane for the globally elusive swine flu shot. Not really worth the cold northern latitude and lack of sun but one could wear mink, which is always a plus.

Fast forward to my current zip code. Why do my Green Party roots feel rather republican..gasp. How can that be? A pro-business stance and fiscally conservative pessimism in the current quagmire. Local theater aka the SC city council locally gets a bitch slap from the University Ivory tower crowd if even a whiff of non-compassion is spread around concerning the local homeless and ever growing transient population. The mer whisper surrounding capitalist concerns from locally owned business is met with politically cool contempt.

Maybe the Ivory tower crowd believes that the local sales tax base is simply fairy dust.

While I can't wrap my brain around the entirety of the macro that is my Olympic sport of choice to bemoan, may I offer up a sweet micro morsel of hope and compassion. Yes- two wrapped in a delicious package both savory and sweet.

Free empathy.

Yep- free. As in gratis, no charge. How is this gonna help the world you wonder? It's the little things that count and on a truly micro level the best hope is to be found on a Saturday afternoon at a small table usually set up in front of The Gap on Pacific Ave in downtown Santa Cruz. When I initially walked by and looked at the tiny table, the gentleman focused upon the woman in the chair in front of him. I noticed the tiny artistically printed sign no larger that a Cliff Bar that read Free Empathy. I needed to turn upon my heels to backtrack and check that I did not mistake the true task of the seated smile. Sure enough. As I walked by again I was offered a seat. Human nature is funny when confronted with something not considered everyday. My first thought as I glanced around- Is Alan Funt hiding inside the Gap store with a camera..not sure if it was a prank or perhaps just uncomfortable thinking on my part. An introduction was followed by a seated deep breath. A calming voice noted how nice it was to see me today and if there was anything he might help with.

Remebering that small film loop of classic Peanuts comic strip. Lucy at the advice booth caddishly awaiting Charlie Brown. Thankfully Bar Lowenberg is as far from a Lucy type character as one could ever find. Sitting on the receiving end of such a gracious and free service felt divine.
We discussed what brought me to Pac Ave (taking candid pics of people) and how my bike ride led me to park and explore the street on such a balmy Saturday eve.
Sharing with my empathy filled friend just how beautiful it was to find him here. Sparking a hope that this free empathy idea could sweep the globe, benefiting mankind with well intentioned good will. This is the real fairy dust.

The over scheduled, over subscribed crowd that resembles most of us these days could really glean a simple understanding by simply sitting down..

Look for Mr. Lowenburg on Pac Ave next time you find yourself there and do the world a favor, sit down. You won't be sorry.

Why I Opt Out

2010-09-28T01:15:00.000-04:00

I'm not one to believe in conspiracy theories. I do believe in keeping a confidence however and like letter writing this art of conversation seems to be on the same extinction list as the drive-in theater.

Privacy is formed from the root privy. To be privy to information. The etymology of the word privacy is suggestive. As always, I have been driven by this need to know. Call it morbid curiosity to tease out the idea of meaning. Not just words but in life too. Can never be too clear on context.

Selective is another word with an interesting root. The self selecting group of social media users of facebook has seemingly morphed from just a handful of Stanford knobs to 500 M strong at last count.

Do you all know something I don't.

I remember what a big deal it was when deep throat, the top secret source for Woodward and Bernstein was sought out. Thirty years later, when the source was reveled it felt like a let down. I can only imagine that affect of lost mystique upon those close to the saga.

The song clouds in my coffee was an ode to a mystery man of such large ego. Really Carly- an auction, for the answer? Did we really need to know?

It's this need to know that I find so puzzling. Why have we become a nation of need to know-ers?

Is it the reconnect that is so attractive in the minds' eye or simply the idea? I have zero interest in seeking out everyone I have ever known. I have done a decent job of keeping up with those I truly care about and make effort to see them at least quarterly..unless something really obscene blocks that effort (18+ hour flights are my personal cut off.) So why this inane drive to "friend" people? Are we so lame, so over subscribed, over scheduled, over looked that we must distill our caring and concern down to something as impersonal as a web connection.

Differentiation between person/thing seems now non-existent. Products are now part of the party. The comfort of my fave ice cream brand can now play a role in my social psyche.

Talk about the network of socially maladjusted.

Friendships with Coke, Sara Lee, and Ruffles have nothing on my semi secret 3 a.m. rondevue with Ben and Jerry - a menage a tois where I am the sole recipient of unmentionable deliciousness and here I draw the line. I don't need to be friends with chunky monkey. Discretion please.

Maybe my years of working in media, sitting in focus groups (I've sat on both sides of the mirror, thank you) have me questioning motives. Is all this reaching out, with little effort or reasoning an indicator of our overly scheduled lives? Wanting an escape. But too lazy to make any real effort, like cook a meal or open a decent Zin.

Data mining and aggregator sites will continue to become more sophisticated. Why? because that data of all our habits, clicks, pics whether personal or professional can glean a great deal. Big companies will continue to pimp for such privilege, unless of course they don't need to.

Think friend with benefits.

This weekend while attending a real live cocktail party I was approached by an acquaintance that I truly was happy to reconnect with. We chatted with sweaty glasses of Pinot Gris in perfectly manicured Mano y Mano while the bugs buzzed in the back ground and the moon rose over the manicures backyard. It was the quintessential reconnect. Great conversation, with a pitch perfect evening to enjoy the company of others. The first words she purred "why had I not kept in touch on face book?" which I answered I don't use facebook. I imagined smoke pouring from my ears as neural brain synopsis secretly smoldered contemplating all we had once had in common.

I tried to be as polite as I could but my not so recessive genetic opinionated tic called the whole facebook idea a thankless mind fuck. Adding that I saw it as a seemingly sad way to spend ones' time. Also I added that something so widely discussed like the minutia of life as fodder for fostering friendship seemed stupid. But that's just me. Oops, I guess my foot in mouth disease makes for uncomfortable cocktail chatter.

Rhetorically using facebook is no different than using a rewards cards from retailer's like Longs, or Safeway. After all- retailers can't possibly offer me anything without knowing a bit about me. Yet time and time again based upon a complex cocktail of details, buying habits and marketing juju they seemingly guesstimate what I might like. This is where the facebook mania helps big brother.

Conspiracy theory, No. Creepy? Yes, but if you don't care/don't share/lack good judgement the stakes are a bit higher than receiving instant print coupons for a competitors' shampoo. Why does this logic not hold any sway over the 500M "friends" that exist today? Lemmings don't use logic suppose it's safe to say, nor do they find it creepy.

Bumper Crop: Creative Energy

2010-09-14T20:37:00.001-04:00

The current state of the local public school system is dire. Crowded class rooms, thin budgets, severely reduced staff. My new Tuesday routine is really an eye opening experience. Lots of energetic wiggling and foot tapping. Think puppies, but bigger and more wiggly. With 31 kids in a classroom, finding a quiet moment to think is a luxury.
Last Tuesday was the first writers workshop by Gault school 5th graders and a few topics for this first writing exercise of the new school year yielded wildly creative and poignant topics, bounced around pin-ball style. Written into free form topic, an innovative new product was produced, pure creative genius resulted in paragraphs about knitting hamster hair sweaters, a grandfathers' death in El Salvador, and the love of beach volleyball. All topics written into personal journals.

The true highlight in this mix of the newly journal-ized, a single suggested word scribbled down by a sweet faced cherub of a boy was the prime his pump needed. Watching the contemplative faces try on for size, sentences flowing from mostly overly sharpened nubs of pencils. The moment of recognizing. The beauty of thought transformed.

Magic.

A moment of quiet. It was as if thought clouds formed Ala cartoon style, floating free form with wild creative abandon.

Public school? Yep.. Make lemon-aid outta lemons.

On a day where baby steps are measured in smugged charcoal verbs the success of the moment tastes even sweeter when you have the nay Sayers turning scribbled pages of prose to hurriedly finish before the Tibetan bell reminds them the exercise is ending.

I've had the honor of working with private school kids as well children attending ESL classes in SF. Desire to achieve, desire to become, desire to fit in, learn, blend, or even become invisible know no class boundaries. This is where adults enter. Our job? To believe. Believe that good always wins, that the curious will dig deeper, and that the band -aids and kisses will self multiple and cover all those who seek to achieve but stumble skinning knees along the way. With 31 kids in a classroom, we could all find an hour a week and ply the system with what we bring to the the process because this means that magic can happen

If the spark of creative genius can be lit and kept as a flame it serves us all well to find the embers burning. They burn in the brightest manner possible: youth illuminates the sheer inquisitive nature of sweet, unadulterated childhood. We shall caress the idea or image of success for those too damaged, too scared, or just unjustly kept from the opportunity be due to what ever injustice.

Who else is going to step up? The schools need an influx of magic. Think of it as the magic of volunteering meets need. Unadulterated. 100 proof.

Currently no other place will give you these dividends. BTW, advance thanks to those you you who know of what I speak. Namaste.

Yabba-Dabba- Yuck

2010-09-02T22:10:00.001-04:00

Of the eleven species of Rubus in California, Himalaya blackberry has grown its spiny web of industrial strength pricks to trap people like me-Or anyone that decides to belly up to mother natures' Jamba counter and eat as many blackberries as physically possible without succumbing to the beating bird wings of the neighborhood crows and sparrows as they fight beak and nail to save the bounty of berries for their own. Zen is a word that comes to mind when one can focus upon picking berries. Repetitive and poke free if careful, a soupy greyscale backdrop of sea salty harbor air that could pass for airbrushed acrylic hides the sun. A quality Andrew Wyeth like in tonal charcoal shades. Optimistic caffeine fueled flowery metaphors aside it's simply fog but I can't help feel that I am a part of a living landscape in portraiture.

Are crows and sparrows truly birds of prey? These local berry eating birds make the panhandlers look meek...are these birds annoying? Yes, dangerous? Not so much.

I am feeling much more neighborly to my feathered friends than what seems to be sauntering toward me.

This morning I resemble a PMS possessed-picker. Greedy and Moody, equal parts sans make-up... not pretty. A foodie simply wanting to eat these lovely little berries baked into scones, washed down with a cup of Earl Gray. While "zen"ned out in the fog, along comes neighbor Fred, also referred to as Foreclosure Fred or my personal fave Fucked Fred. Not Feeling the love for this dead on Fred Flintstone. (Trade the stone wheeled dune buggy for an Escalade, you've nailed the character.) He's talking at me how these blackberries are simply weeds dirty and invasive. My zen state evaporates into the thick fog as swiftly as the pesky sparrows.

I think about the word invasive. The word rolls around in my brain thinking of how invasive his sub-species seems to me, so combative and anti- Santa Cruz. The bombastic being that inhabits my brain chooses the NVC route and I simply say " Better to be picked than to be deposited ala colorful- rainbow coalition style upon your beloved SUV and left to bake in the hot hot sun."
Simultaneously my brain in tandem mode whispers : "I personally prefer to see them shat onto your pearlized-creamcicle steroid- ed ghetto mobile."

Maybe this is a sort of superpower that I alone possess because I believe the birds have heard this secret whisper of a thought. My imagination ponders a sort of feathered tour de force. Flocking together, planning, plotting to overthrow Fred. I smile a secret deliciously overt smile. I wish my other super power was flight because I would certainly join along in solidarity.

Fire sale properties are rare (at the moment) in my adopted hood. My wee slice of ocean nirvana may be the only piece zip code being sprayed with chemicals automatically billed-biweekly to that big credit card in the sky.

Bankruptcy court will need to track down Chem-lawn and square up. Good luck driving' that truck down Seabright Ave. If you think for a second Fred contemplates chemical run-off into the harbor below, rest assured. He sleeps well
Back to the task at hand. No harm really. It's not like I was using live kittens or something less useful in scouring for these little fruits in their thorny hell. My zen state leaves momentarily as I swear and lick my wounds thinking this is the reason Germans' refer to these razor wrapped morsels as fruit of the forest. My Scone Jones born of this more dark purple than black berry seemed implausible at this point. An easier bike ride is a 5min delay in almost-instant gratification waiting for me at The Buttery.

My berry bucket is brimming with berries now, and these birds are not simply hungry--they harbor a real issue with this Karl Rove meets Fred Flintstone character. It's so odd in my tie-died cul du sac of ocean tranquility to have a Fox News Fear Based Philosophy session with the midget minded.

In this moment it's crystal clear: Retaliation is the only option for the philosophically aligned feathered friends.

The preaching nature of Foreclosure Fred conjures up a funny visual as he shakes his bobble-like head in anger. Apparently the financial problems he has created for himself are not sufficiently complex enough and now these blackberry bushes are his target for flaming rage.

Flambe' works better with fresh figs and prosciutto as I drift off to ponder my lunch plans in my state of renewed zen.

The Book Was Better

2010-08-23T16:49:00.001-04:00

Under the influence of idealism and poetry, I ponied up my inner cowboy boot wearin' bohemian and headed off into the sunset Saturday night in search of nostalgia and tie-dye ...
At age 70, the anointed one began his Monterey Fairgrounds show with a full on band rendition of everybody must get stoned.. as if they needed permission. Seems like a gimme, with the crowd I had imagined.

The sad truth: permission was indeed necessary, the crowd in attendance sat as stone straight as Canadians. Canadians at any public event really. Straight bunch.. No contact highs' for this mixed age crowd..unless of course they were lucky enough to sit down wind from me.

No singing. No dancing,
Carousing? Not a chance... No flowers in the hair. Was this the crowd that made the sixties so fucking groovy? I have to believe that the crowd in attendance stumbled into the wrong venue. Not a hippy-dippy-feel-the-love modality instead think Denny's dinner before 5 crowd.

Fly on the wall was not my desired station. When the band strode out and picked up their own guitars. Each member sporting polished willie wonka-alikeness. His Bobness wore a straw bola hat that seemed a little too fussy in a Nantucket way. Guess he has a NYC sensibility ala the Hampton's summer. Guess he forgot about Northern Cali fog and dampness. A vintage era wool cap might have been a better fit. Certainly would have been a bit more authentic feeling.

One of my favorite Dylan songs came from his last album. Things have changed,. Saturday's version sang with a polished back beat and stage wrap spoke volumes of what has indeed changed from his days of kicking around the village, simply playing with a guitar, harmonica and adoring fans.
It's like the lame tee shirt's sold in tourist traps announcing all i got was this lousy tee shirt. My tee shirt moniker from my experience would have read, I saw Bob Dylan and all I got was a lousy contact high

Things have very much changed.

Pray upon the Prey

2010-08-17T21:29:00.008-04:00

A summer checked out, off grid, with many book laden memories. Very happy gave way to sad as I learned that one of my favorite writers and past crushes has been diagnosed with cancer. The favored atheist part didn't fit in so seamlessly in the last sentence. Who else would throw stones at Mother Theresa? Adoration ballsy genius. The recent best seller Hitch-22 was a marvelously witty read. I enjoyed the Audible version of the book which was deliciously devoured as mental foreplay. .. Nothing like a little pillow talk or listen, more accurately as I drifted off to sleep

The articulately debonair Christopher Hitchens is under going treatment for esophageal cancer that has spread to his lymph nodes. Certainly not a great diagnosis in the scheme of fair odds. Life is what we make of it. A recent Atlantic Monthly interview says he shall continue on with writing and reading until he can't anymore. Brave and smart..

On the atheist bent, and a perfect compliment: The little book of Atheist Spirituality by the french cuffed Parisian Andre Comte-Sponville. A refreshingly candid look at dogmatic transcendence and the masses that embrace religion as the warm sweater that shields one from all of lifes' pain. Add a cigarette if the mass is french

If only it were so easy..we would all be sporting hand knit full-body cozies. Cashmere for me please. Itchy wool for the Republicans.

Whenever I learn of ill health plaguing a friend or in this case favored author, I don't think about what's to come, only what's been given; so much to journalism, to politics, to the fine art of writing all tied neatly with a reverence and style unparalleled to anyone currently of the now and wow genre.

Hitchens was scheduled to talk about his book back in June, of course I was angry to find a postponed sign at the Commonwealth Club in SF on the eve of the event, I was hoping to saunter off and enjoy a cocktail or two with him, but alas it was not meant to be. My boo-hoo moment of morose knowing now the reasons behind the missed engagement feels very self indulgent, and not in a good way.

I will not pray for Mr.Hitchens. I do not believe that will help his condition. A possible answer to his plight: toast better living through technology. I would be remiss if I did not remind him that he is a bon-vivant of such stature few if any will be able to follow. Let death be his muse and tease him. If the voice of unadulterated street smarts and swagga' with a sharp pencil must be silenced I would seek to remind him that his literary works will live on. Hopefully he shall too, the world would be too dull without him.

Welcome 2 My World

2010-07-23T00:46:00.000-04:00

(8:30 a.m) Big Coffee gulp. A rush to pull myself together. Gasp... what the f@%k... is this a gray eye lash? What's next, my perfectly matched shoes won't match my bag, yes you know a bad euphemism when you see one.Always fun to see pubic hair color compared with shoes in print, no- but eyelashes.

Let's get back to where my focus lies. It's bad enough to resemble a shrew sans mascara but this, eyelash of gray- I say no way! This is too much. When the fairest of all from afar dripping from his a.m. shower asks "when is this gray hair mania gonna end?' To which I reply, " when I take my final nap...in the dirt."

Welcome to my world and maybe yours too? At least as a non member of the Y chromosome group. Those F'ing Y's, just seem to magically become more distinguished with each gray sprouted. Anywhere.

The global cosmetic industry is now hovering around $60B.. to cater solely to my needs?
I'm in good company. NOT comforting. In the least bit.

P.G Wodehouse concluded that the guillotine is the only cure for gray hair. Comforting.

But why this manic management around aging? I surely can't be the only one fighting it tooth and nail (bleached and manicured thank you) The well is deep when one yells into it- the echo that returns- well, it's not what any of us want to hear. There is no magic fountain of youth. Poor ponce Del Leon. Most likely would've benefited from a squirt of Rogain, genital waxing, an obligatory trim to the lively Breshnev'brows (why don't men notice when the eyebrows go wacky and start reaching around to the back of the head, odd no?)

The truth is gray hair is inevitable. Research (yes, I 've done a bit) shows that we will all gray. Some sooner than others. Premature grayness can strike some in the early 20's. So I guess I should be happy wearing 45 years viola internal alarm clock decides it's time. Come on bio-tech... let's fight a real threat to life. Either that or move to Rio.

Beauty isn’t just big business in Brazil — it’s HUGE! $28 billion huge. Brazil’s beauty market is now the third largest on the planet (behind the U.S. and Japan) and despite a sluggish global economy it’s also one of the world’s fastest growing, at a 14% compounded rate from 2004-2009...
Go ahead you Iowa and Nebraska beeknickbeauties, have another burger. Brazilian babes are having those beautiful buns buffed to perfection. Just when you thought it could not get any better.

Botox and Juviderm are fairly new and give youth a foot up. Ask yourself now: wanna resemble your nutty aunt with the placid forehead?

Feel this is simply a small price to pay for staving off the inevitable? Not so much......

A few days ago that uber glam gurl, Zsa Zsa Gabor took a spill and broke her hip. At 93 she looks 50'ish... wide eyed and smoothed by facial fillers and who knows what else. The bright eyed look made me wonder if the overly stretched taughtness allows her to close her eyes and sleep. Research fleshed out that as we age the need to sleep lessens. Yes, Ms. Gabor is the extreme version of good chemistry gone bad. Suppose my true self shines. Wondering: when she came tumbling from bed what was she watching on the telly....porn. Nope..... Jeopardy!

Wink , wink Alex Trebec. She'd love to wink dahling..but a bit tight. kisses.

Snoozy Summer Slacker Style

2010-07-15T23:59:00.000-04:00

Yes... I know I know... An entire month has vaporized as I look at my writing of rough draft posts..meaning: I write, but only for myself and only to realize that an entire month has gone by without a single snarky post.

Yes an Anniversary of sorts.. but not one I care to celebrate.

Slacker gurl self loath abounds, so off of that mind numbing exercise and off to greener mental pastures. Slather on a little more SPF 70.

This summer seems as unstructured as a lincoln log structure yet complex enough that one can mentally expand upon where-what-who to frolic with but that takes planning and plotting.

I think we all know the straight story ...it takes far too much time and energy to plan.

The current plan this summer? The plan is to make a plan and stick with it.

The Beach Boardwalk Friday scene is all our myopic planning can muster. Beach ball bouncy happy and sun drenched, we sandy critters lounge with high SPF coverage and little else as we await the evening concert to kick start the weekend. Kick start is the correct verb here as the summer with it's frenetic energy can overwhelm even the most travel/party/beach savvy of the bunch. My only wish for these frenetically fabulous evenings??? A bit more time to actually enjoy the scene as it truly is a quintessentially Santa Cruzian scene.

Which means no plastic boobs bobbing about, no high heels as they are sooo sand unfriendly, no attitude because it's Santa Cruz... and the best part>>>? A short beach walk home from the festivities.

Thursday evenings are a muddy drone of over amped sound from across the harbour. We seek out the best the beach scene has to offer and throw the Thursday eve scene to the out of town riffraff.

If live music is your thing, look no further than some sand in your plans http://www.beachboardwalk.com/concerts/

Summer Bummer

2010-06-18T12:58:00.001-04:00

An unlikely place within my grey matter beckons me to question if this really is a good idea?. . .Organized summer commitments that is, like summer school. But for every negative, crybaby why-me whinge as of late I must at least smile at the karmic reality recently sun-kissed upon my freckled forehead.

Just when you think ya have the summer (or life for that matter) figured out something flies in the face of fun, frolic, and full-on favored existence.

The current fly in the gin & tonic? Summer school. The dreaded sound of those two words.
As kids we feared the threat. As parents we fear the commitment. Speaking for myself- apropos to nothing it's consistent with my lack of stay-on-track. Speaking theoretically summer should be a time for goof off hang time accompanied with a high SPF at least when one has children or free time at hand or both.

I do commit. Sun screen rituals need to be followed. Vain, fair haired and sun sensitive bitch that I am, but the morning hurry scurry continues. How's that for Karma: just when the nice weather and calls from beach seeking friends return in tandem..damn it.

What's a irresponsible person to do? Organize.

Not my life, that's sooo un-summer. Car pool. Carpool Carma Come save us from all things commitment, I mean commuter laden, (except southbound US Open traffic on Hwy1..fuck'.)

So it is, a wee bit of positive karmic lint left in my bellybutton to finagle such a feat for those of you who have the inside skinny this is no small gift. Summer drama aside, the sand is warm and the UV rays off the charts.

Northwest swell' been a bit too sloppy for any serious surfboard/boggieboard/wakeboard fun. So let's sing my latest song:"when in doubt parse it out, there's no need to hover when you can find cover... from friends. Large vehicle drivin friends. VehicularVengence has no place in this sacred summer space, seek out large vehicles acquaintance or summer school parent . Carpool to Chartwell. Carpool to Chartwell. Foe is friend as well as neighbor and let us remember that five kids can't be crammed into a convertible mini, even when utilizing the trunk space as a time out place." It's time to go! Heve Ho, let's go..oh good I don't drive today-hooray! It's Carpool Carma Carpool Carmaaaaa. "

My new summer survival sonnet is sung in B-flat and best chased by a beachside beer (best enjoyed on those non-driving days.)
I need to work on that last verse, or turn that into the chorus. Bob Dylan could twist it for me, but why bother him...he's hopefully enjoying his summer. Do the same won't you?

Dante's Inferno: My idea of a Playdate

2010-05-28T23:00:00.000-04:00

The simple act of writing a simple letter of apology to a dear friend has turned into the drama-rama of my year
(or at least right up there with that other bone-head thing I keep f'ing up, but I digress.)

A couple of summers ago I had a very drunk, very irish, very- wait I am repeating myself here... I spit out some nasty-ass words in a very venomous way (man can I spew) to a friend(s) who meant the world too me.

Fast forward to two Full years later, and I have yet to make a proper Mea Culpa. Until five fabulous min ago.

Hooray for procrastination. Hooray for Guilt, and Therapy, and a glass of Vino Verde. A hugely hopeful moon this evening that is blindingly beautiful over the Pacific Ocean at this very moment.

So I suppose the best gift (If she accepts the apology letter that I've just licked the stamp for to that far flung zipcode in the east.)

Please note: a mental cost-investment breakdown. Thanks for letting me share.

THERAPY $ 10,920.00
one year of weekly sessions - (not including the double sessions when I was super loquacious) Working towards the goal of mending an important relationship with a girl friend. I.E. writing letter stating the above mentioned drama-rama.

WINE/LIQUOR $ 1000.00
This amount is small...yes. yes. I know..You're thinking liar liar pants on fire- but wait. I gave up drinking as a "sport" in December 09/Jan..2010. I personally liked myself better as the witty, dancing drunk, with her lovely red locks in the lou...but alas that is for another pissy post so stay tuned as I envision a post paired with PMS and a fine zinfandel.

Kleenex $ 100.00
Cry baby tendencies aside, I still buy the good stuff, that leaves a soothing yet healing trace of aloe on my sniffling boo-hooing wet-nosed moments of the past. ( A quick sneak to pander to friends and ~~kind~~ strangers- you know who you are, patient and detail seeking subway token taker in the Toronto subway who listened and said just write it girll.. Accolades to my home team Olympic medal winners in the pitty-party Olympics. A stellar list of mental giants with P.H.d's in un-fucking up things that are fucked beyond belief, this includes my tolerant hairstylist, Robo, Colleen, and Rob.) Gold baby... Pure Gold.

Writing the Mea Culpa letter $ PRICELESS.
Mea Culpa letter scrawled in my chicken scratch to the very fabu-lous Hillary Steinau (upon the very paper stock that I scold my kids for using) is simply priceless.

H
Fang Island Baby, August. I propose a summit meeting of epic proportions and maybe a little arm wrestling ( 'cause you can and will kick my ass.) that's what I love about those Mainers.

Food Porn

2010-05-26T18:30:00.000-04:00

What's not to like about this evening's dinner entree of reduced fat Ruffles potato chips and a bar of Scharffenberger dark chocolate? C'mon people, work with me here, unconventional works for dinner. Works very well indeed. Wash down dinner with a glass of French rose (because California Pinot based Rose' is just too damn sweet to wash down a nice potato chip of reduced fat and salt. )

The great part of being adult like is the ability to reason with ones' self that the reduced fat of the salty will underscore the antioxidants of the Scharffenberger. To reduce dinner to such a mundane route requires a complete lack of planning. For a foodie, this lack of planning is really like rehab. Breaking the well planned route i.e. contemplating what might be a dinner option typically takes place after I have my coffee in the morning. Lunch is typically a non sequitur, although pleasant surprises do indeed take place during mid day. Just not lately.

Friends just returned from a trip to Korea. In true foodie travel fashion, the mpeg video snippets are all of food. Travel should almost always be about the food experiences and the photo ops (typically of food, farmers markets or an edible delight.) These friends also jetted in for a visit to Shanghai once(pic @left) and although I thought the visit was to spend time with me, it was really about finding the best bowl of noodles (which we did indeed find as they were being made.) Jetting to exotic locals to "see" friends took on a very different meaning. Code for, you better get a handle on what's to eat in the 'hood because it's a real drag to disappoint a jet lagged lover of food.

A sort of food porn really, because the tease begins with the markets, prep and plating moving on to that final climax we all seek: enjoying the long sought after meal. My only question of course: where was the HD feature when one really needs it.
On the flip side, others may only experience a meal as a move along.
Glad I don't dine on that side of the table.

Time To Wean The 'Tween

2010-05-19T18:42:00.000-04:00

The lay of the land has shifted when it comes to learning about the birds and bees. Gone are the days of stealing away to the garage with your dad's dog eared issues of Playboy. The G rated National Geographic always a giggle inducing page turner for the 4th grade and under crowd has been long over shadowed by the Internet.

When it comes to parental controls Apple has done a fine job, Thank-You Steve Jobs. Even the itouch gives you the ability to play stalag 13 quite literally as a parent. Initially I was against the lock-down And while I waved my ACLU card my tween aged consumers consumed media as if the itunes store were a colossal brain candy store. I felt bad limiting my childrens' web exposure to pedestrian sites, knowing full well that curiosity can strike and the magic wand in reality is google.

Yesterday my rose colored glasses were smashed by a pair of size 5 Vans' as the reality took shape, it was just as I had been warned. Guess it takes one to know one, but when my uber IT muffin lectured the evils of unlimited bandwidth I could not would not listen. The beauty of the FireFox history is a savant like memory for key words. I was reading an Ipad history cache that reminded me of a Penthouse Forum column or a shopping list for a pervert (or in my case, a ten year old boy.)

Boobs, Pussy, Sex, Fuck, Fucking and the list goes on in that narrow vein of genre. As one can only imagine thousands of pages came back. Maybe this is where the idea of Santa and Magic cross over to reward the resourceful elementary school aged. Yes Virginia there Is a Santa and he likes to be spanked by a red-head sporting thigh high boots.

My parental tumble into the sexual abyss came long before I expected. I figured I had a few more years to parse the inevitable.. The stumble comes with the ipad. No flash ability means no club penguin, but no parental controls means that club penguin is no longer the fave stay for the after school elementary crowd. Think boobs. Really big boobs.

Innocence is fleeting or in our case it's flown the coop, along with unlimited bandwidth.

Ride The Bling

2010-05-15T13:07:00.000-04:00

Depending upon where one is in the Bay Area, one thing is certain bicycle enthusiasts are a different breed-At least in zip codes south of San Francisco, and north of Santa Cruz. A recent bike dodge on Sandhill road would have left a brightly colored smudge upon my hood. It made me think about the recent trend of expensive bike enthusiasts peddling while angry, or with an anti-auto agenda.

Don't peddle angry is the thought that typically radiates from my brain. An encounter from one's comfy car makes these colorful angst ridden riders offer up a game of vehicular chicken. Rhetorically one's brain says: enjoy the ride, in reality it's seems to be a reason to rumble with whatever crosses paths with these spandex wrappers of corporate logos.

Gotta admit that nothing can showcase the package like spandex bike shorts.

The detached aura of spandex clad bikers made me think about what riding a bike means to different people. Menlo park and Shallow Alto rider's seem to covet the expensive bike as bling where as Santa Cruz cycling seems nirvana like for true bike riding enthusiasts where cars share the road respectfully. Bikes are less of a wealth statement and more of transportation. In a place where funky is a statement, it's tough to even make it on to the radar screen with so much fantabulous funkyness.

This weekend IS different as those spandex packages make their way over the rivers, through the big basin woods and into sleepy Santa Cruz. Even that one ball wonder (you know the live strong one of yellow spandex fame) will grace our sun burnished beaches as locals glimpse the greatness of sherbet colored swirls of testosterone and platform toe shoes.

Ooh la la- bike seat envy from the cheap seats.

News at 11:Neanderthal Discovered in Dio Deka Hotel Bar

2010-05-10T21:34:00.001-04:00

Sometimes the most fun to be had is sans alcohol. This is a new found skill set for me, and certainly not one that comes naturally as an Irish-Catholic spawn of naturally effervescent drunks.

In a past life working in radio, the afternoon cocktail was akin to what a yoga class is today. So as my liver says thank-you and takes a well deserved rest, I continue to play fly on the wall in situations never before imagined. The first step in any bar/pub/nightclub journey is always deciding which direction to head when entering a boozy circle of friends, this important piece lately is to find the drunkest of the bunch and chat about mind bending antics like "wow did I ever door ding the shit of this 7 series in the valet lot" then watch four or five of the group run out to look around.

My most recent outing this past week could have been a sociological study on that suburban trifecta: money, boredom and booze. The place: the ever busy Dio Deka bar in the ritzy burb of Los Gatos.
As hotel bars go, it's got a bit of antiseptic charm mixed with sparkly spandex clad ladies. Eye candy in various shades of large to extra large plasticized cleavage. Beautiful Barbie wanna bees to even out the gaggle of Y chromosome that seemed to be Neanderthal in origin. This is where the real fun of nursing a glass of wine while secretly making fun of mental midgets parading as the big swinging dicks of the valley.

This isn't the only enclave that is as inbred as it seems. Conversations with the well-heeled hotel bar patrons excitedly describing recent travels to exotic hotspots like Cabo and the ever popular and culturally deep seek out the yearly Magic Kingdom trek, which makes the pedestrian nature of this hotel bar even more surprising, as most of the wine list would make for an interesting pub quiz.
Think geographically challenged.

If this is shoal ground mentally speaking, Thursday night I ran aground.

Surveying the wreckage became less amusing and more like work as Mr. Neanderthal and his cave man club members came to rest wrists and empty beer bottles on our table ala a frat party with french cuffs. A few simple "can you please set your empty glasses and beer bottles upon the bar, as I'm not your barmaid" garnered curious sideways looks and stares. Maybe I used large words, or perhaps the request should have been delivered as a series of grunts and hand gestures.

The lack of manners combined with the lack of simple social graces painted the picture of the simple life, sans the whipet-esque Paris Hilton. I can't write about the who-said what's, who hooked up, or why I was even there. Suffice to say I would rather eat roadkill than return to the 95030 zip code anytime soon.

Theater Of The Mind

2010-05-06T00:50:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite sports heroes Ernie Harwell, has past. Ernie was the voice of Tiger baseball.

I have such a profound sense of sadness even though I have not attended or streamed a broadcast of the Detroit Tigers in many moons. My introduction to baseball attributable to the magic of AM radio.

As a ten year-old Mideastern mutt of a tom boy my window to the world was my mono ear plug. A life-line to the world loomed just after dark as many local radio stations powered down, and the clear booming 50,000 w channel big stick Am stations came booming into my bedroom and transporting me to another place and space. WJR was the "local" station over 400 miles away and home to the Detroit Tigers and the voice of Ernie Harwell. Imprints from big city powerhouse stations like WGN and WLS to the south west in Chicago, KMOX mixed jazz and baseball from St.Louis where even the call letters were exotically spelled with K's, being west of the Mississippi.

Connected to a tiny transistor radio that I hid under my pillow, that plug of a mono ear piece opened my world and helped focus my sights on the greener grass of the city, any city. Theater of the mind.

Twelve years later I found myself sitting in a posh mahogany board room in the Fisher Building home to WJR-760.
Sports autographs and smiling athletes adorned the walls of the GM's offices at WJR. Pitching my love of radio, pitching for a job, I shared the story of my beloved transistor radio whispering baseball games into my ear on sultry summer evenings. Many a bedtime came and went while the last batters made the final push for runs. Theater of the mind: the lost art of A.M radio.

Later that same year I spent time with a then newbie superstar from the Japanese leagues, Cecil Fielder. I drank iced tea in the heat of the dugout, hobnobbing with Ernie Harwell himself at a WJR fantasy camp in Lake land Florida. He told me to be careful in the sun, my freckles might burn. Fantasy Camp was a day spent with deep pocketed advertising agencies and clients flown down to that sleepy Orlando swamp of a suburb.

Fantasy baseball camp cost big bucks, and the wait list was always longer that the open slots. Many a middle-aged man longed to sport a real Tigers uniform, hang with Allan Trammel and swing bats with the old timers who also tagged along for added color. Denny McClain made a brief, but ham fisted appearance shunning autographs.

Harwell was the star even in the heat of the day, making friends with everyone. Refilling Iced tea glasses.

Radio has always been my favorite medium. Nothing can fill the shoes of radio as the backdrop for quintessential summertime afternoons. Listening to Ernie Harwell spew factoids about Americas' sport always left me with walk around knowledge that I could apply like currency to real-life boys club sports radio, and for that I thank him.

Dog Eared Truth

2010-05-02T21:45:00.001-04:00

Ahh-it's that time of year again when spring cleaning gleans treasures from house and garage to yard sale. Craigslist is currently a bastion of people selling crap, as well as people advertising yard sales to people in need of extra crap.

The very best of these sales offer a glimpse of fly-on the wall truth. Think impromptu Sociology project as more often than not dusty paperbacks offer up subject matter that speaks volumes about the seller. How you ask? Take a quick scan from the book bins at any yard sale, then let's discuss. Books color a pretty realistic view of the inner-workings of family dynamics and turmoil. Personal drama isn't just for television reality any longer. Reading junk and how to books can be beach friendly.

Used book bins are the windows to the soul, no need to look deeply into ones' eyes- just do a bit of digging thru used book bins at yard sales and take note. Finding health books owned by the wanna bees of healthy living as they circulate the yard sale soft-drink in hand. Perhaps it's the hypochondriac neighbor with the latest and greatest medical journals and how-to-live germ free. Another popular subject matter of dog-eared hope: Marital strife. How to fix_________ seems to always be popular in the yard sale book bin.

I like fix-it themes. More so boat and yoga . Most recently VW Manuals.

On the east coast yard sales are a contact sport. Here in Santa Cruz the theme can be a bit more spiritual with more than enough natural fiber clothing and hemp shoes to encourage anyone shopping to be a kind gentler version of themselves while sporting alpaca sweaters. Locally harvested of course.

So as you shop, remember that bargaining at yard sales here in Santa Cruz is considered a faux pas.
Be politically correct and pay the full boat price and walk away knowing more about your neighbors than you ever thought possible.

Tough 2 Be Buff

2010-04-09T23:44:00.015-04:00

The manly Man, a brute force dose of testosterone or simply a guy with a grumble against humanity (and so we all pay with dick like behavior to all living beings.) Why is that? I suppose it has to do with a myriad of problems that most likely started in tadpole stage. So why write about manly men? Because thank goodness Virgina, there is a Santa and he is a metro sexual.

The traits of the meto sexual male? I'll start with the good stuff: he will buy tampons, wear earrings, be found drinking hot tea with honey while getting waxed. The last one of course is my personal favorite. For as long as Wilma Flinstone has shaved we girls have had to undergo the torturous task of having our short hairs yanked out with waxing.

Welcome to the club Barney Rubble.

Manly men drive beef cake cars and ride fatboys. The metro sexual man drives piously in a Prius.

Put your yoga mats down ladies, news is out as the once zen oasis of the ever posh spa-beauty industry has changed the last bastion of female refuge. Yes, now the spa chairs are filled with hetro-metros receiving nail treatments.

Fighting for a spa chair is tough enough on a Saturday morning. But wait.... the yoga studio has made me very un'zen in the arm-wrestling asana for mat real-estate. Yoga guys stretch before getting to nails- wax- trim. The world is a softer place now literally with these guys. Yes, we like.
btw..... I only found that shaving vid as I dug deep with a proper search for a proper nickname for such smoothness.

The Here & Zen

2010-03-23T22:43:00.007-04:00

So it's true what they say about a beach town mentality. A few choice adjectives come to mind like bum, slacker, and my personal favorite: surf savant. But what if there was a laundry list of good monikers. Praiseworthy list of lists with a bright and shiny badge to be worn as proudly as sunscreen and flip-flops?

The reason there has yet to be a revival of all things beach zen makes me believe in a theory (ok, yes it is MY own theory: If everyone else knew how low -keyed delight plays on the corporate/professional step ladder in our wi-fi saturated, skype plump world my wait for my morning latte here in Santa Cruz would be much longer.

I will never be a true convert/transplant of Beach town hang. My affinity toward stilettos runs deep as does my taste for the big city. But I am smitten with the gentle rhythm of things sand centric. When life gets too complex and overwhelming, the best RX is gonna be toes in the sand and a drink in hand (or just toes and some beach yoga for those of us on the wagon as of late.)

I like to spend my mornings tooling around town on my beach cruiser. The trees are in bloom and morning air fog free. It's like a little piece of the Truman Show but with an influx of Medicinal 420 and spiritual namiste thrown in for good measure. Now if I could just find a place that sold my beloved Sunday New York Times, within my bike routine I really could be living in the Truman Show. Zen has a name. Just keep it safe or we'll be complaining about our morning wait for coffee.

Hippy Dippy

2010-03-09T01:13:00.011-05:00

You decide.
The magic of a new place always makes me fall in love in a kinda-now-kinda -wow way. Shiny new faces and places all mixed into a dee-licious way of looking at the world.

That rose colored glasses thing-it's a real phenomenon. Just wish they woulda' worked longer in Toronto, but pink layered atop of mono chromatic gray scale is just a different shade of grey.

Fast forward to hippy dippy Santa Cruz.
Beach cruiser-eye candy central minus the 'tude and tats of Venice beach.

Luscious ocean breeze and the Seabright Brewery is my answer to "yes Virginia there IS a Santa Claus..and he surfs a Softops board" (santa needs serious stability.)
The real gift this past week? While my Subaru was rock-star parked at an unfed meter in front of a local bike repair, I was tapped on the shoulder by a lovely woman who reminded me to feed the meter. Of course I thanked her and walked to the meter quarter in hand. The dropping of the quarter drown out by the meter maid mobile wheeling away with her pony tail blowing in the ocean breeze, recognizing the pony tail as the same one belonging to the shoulder tapper.. My heart felt like the Grinch heart when it expanded to three sizes too big. Thump thump.

True love is hard to find. Even tougher to sustain but I have a good sense of well being at the moment totally attributable to this sandy little beach town. Let's hope the love will last. Or I can find groovy pink glasses to match my surfboard.

Land of Sun and Surf

2010-03-01T11:36:00.006-05:00

As someone who prides them self as a lite traveler and can typically put a plan of action into motion with little more than a text message prompt from a friend, I have found the last few weeks particularly stressful trying to juggle biz calls, emails, kids surfing in the ocean and deciding upon what flavor of fruit works in the tequila concoction for the evening sunset cocktail del dia. Yes, it's not the typical boo-hoo but it is worth parsing out the following pearls of wisdom.

Stream lining a trip by tying in another trip/move/relocation may seem like a great idea but when it nets out that you become a sherpa of shit-you- don't-want to- deal - with
(but now defines your choices of where to go.) I'd rethink that game plan had I really had a non-frozen brain cell. Always the ambitious traveller preferring to wing details and see where the wind takes me.. only really works well when one is nimble, nimble of mind, yes but lite is tantamount to happy travels. Crankiness and logistical nightmares will be your unwelcome shadow should you have too much crap to cart.

My biggest Epiphany this recent trip? No connectivity is good. The inability to check email with relative ease takes an entire layer of complexity off the table. Living wi-fi free is as liberating as swimming naked in the ocean- with a full moon and a fire on the beach. Yes, really that good. Why is it so compelling to check when we are supposed to unplug from the world.

A holiday in theory is a giant yank upon that great extension cord called life.. While it's been enjoyable and a fresh perspective for the minions it's a welcome thought to return stateside.

Sayulita IS the new Saucy

2010-02-20T18:12:00.008-05:00

So why travel south of the boarder you ask?

Mexico is to California as Cuba is to Canada. A vitamin D boost helps everyone cope with the cranky nature of mid-winter blahhs and when you can no longer stave off placing your head in the oven, ala Sylvia Plath (for warmth of course) book a flight and thank me later.

I can't get enough of the sand-in-places you never knew could chafe. Why use a glass for a drink when you can buy a fresh coconut and reuse it later with a few shots of ron, purely for medicinal reasons. Plus it's fun to drink from a cup made from a coconut..nothing looks as legit with sand in the crack of your toes and a drink of re-cycla'ble material in your mono.

The real reason to travel to far flung places, and drink dangerous amounts of peptobismol, is to remember that in the end, you're simply money on legs. Nothing more, nothing less.

Enjoy! ( imagine a picture of cute gurls with surfboards and drinks in hand, sporting saucy 'kinis, but google mexico would not let me upload the pic..so sad;(

It's Not What You Think

2010-02-12T08:01:00.002-05:00

It's a wacky world out there.

Travel is the one true indicator of this.

My recent stateside romp was a sweet sojourn from the tundra of Toronto.
Venice beach a mer blur in my rearview mirror.
Lingering is the weirdness of what it is to travel in twenty ten.

TSA has become an unweilding force of ineptitude. If I had to describe what the stateside airport security look and feels like, it might be a psycholtic blend of visuals, think or envision a hybrid of midwestern high school homecoming queen blandness mixed with the blunt force percision of a butter knife, add a blog for know-it-all-ness and voila-it's the Transportation Security Administration.

Throw stones if you will but someone has got to pretend to be in charge, now with Al Haig gone.

The rules change. Just when you think in a smug swagga' that you've got the drill-poof it's changed from the country club feel of the Tucson airport to the uber scrum of L>A. In it's regal-real ness stands the SFO experience where as the later shoes must be in a separate bin. My mind of course played this as a real estate metaphor- where separateness is a fabric in San Francisco life that shoes deserve a separate and quiet place before the laptop but after the camera gear.
Think Namaste but for footwear.

Crocs still seem to be in bankruptcy but available in too many shades to think about, all over the airport, all over-stocked.

The true object and marketing genius lost upon the wearer of said plastic shoes: a non pharmaceutical form of birth control.
The quaint kiosk quiet as the croc sales rep or as I called him the croc monsieur, surfed porn on the free airport wi-fi. I guess his lack of eye contact meant he knew I wasn't a true shoe shopper, either that or my footwear du-jour was too telling - I am more of a Christian Louboutin girl than plastic shoe girl.

The airport moment that stood above the rest - the q tip test experience.

The no-fly list of prohibited items is weirdness personified. Think twice before picking up the $13.00 snowglobe from Hudson News- it's been banned. Not because someone got bonked on the head but rather it contains an undetermined amount of liquid, and therefore banned. Verboten.

So back to the q-tip story. While awaiting a Denver connection, I notice a blue gloved harem of TSA "officers" wielding q-tips and hovering near a very pedestrian looking woman who was simply sipping from a plastic water bottle. Nothing exotic, a garden variety crystal geyser brand in the handy 500ml size. The q-tip in the hand of the specialist- or at least dressed to look like one hovered over the open water bottle while the perplexed sipper looked mortified.

Since when is anyone on the TSA team equipped to address this sort of testing? My first thought after thinking that the TSA is now employing biologists- wow the economy really is worse off than we thought, biologists at the TSA gotta make less than 30K a year, when actually they are compensated a bit better, at 35K. But alas, none of these agents possessed any science or biology background. Nary a one barely possessed a GED..but really, why throw stones?

Now who is calling on the white courtesy phone?? Ayn R. Key, paging Mr. Ayn R. Key.
It's a wild and wacky world, don'tcha feel safer in the confines of the airport as of late?.....Me neither.

The New Shiny Shiny

2010-01-25T11:50:00.008-05:00

Back in the land of plenty, burning brightly under clouds of Santa Cruz mountain fog and palm trees. Ahh- you can take the gurl outta California but you can't dampen the optimistic edge with frozen tundra and salted sidewalks. The biggest ahh is the new San Jose Airport. My morning cafe here awaiting my L.A. flight was a Illy brand espresso in a proper cup no less. Pinch me.

The femine curves of the new Southwest Airlines terminal is reminiscent of a perfect thigh. A Frank Geary'esque design so damn sexy so un San Jose, that maybe this is just what the doctor ordered for the bruised ego of the valley. Did I mention it's sooo good to be back in the hood' that
it's hard to contain my irrational exuberance. Yes, that too will pass but I felt the need to scream it from the ceiling ( which is angular skylight and steel) this is my new fave hang..

did I mention the free wi-fi?? Luv. True blue love. Gotta jet!

Keys

2010-01-14T17:15:00.006-05:00

The New York Times home section has an article today that really spoke to me.

The meat of the article: people who don't lock the doors where they live. It spoke to me I suppose because I too never lock my door. Can't say that I have ever had a break-in. But why lock up, arm the alarm? If someone wants to find a way into your home, they most likely will. I have to admit to another thing I wasn't in the habit of locking, and that was my car (when I still had one.)

The sweet little enclave I lived in was pretty low key and my view point? My neighbors all drive nicer, flasher vehicles than I, so let them lock their vehicles. Keys just seem like another thing to worry about.

My Mini Cooper was so laden full of Lego's and trail mix who the fuck would want it was my mantra.

Keys to the castle, the key to my heart.
Key-lime pie I say because if you can't enjoy life without looking over your shoulder wondering and worrying who might be out to get your stuff , then maybe you just have too much stuff. Or watch too much Fox News, maybe both.

Did I mention the four bicycles stolen over the course of ten years living in San Francisco. All securely locked all snatched. Like I mentioned, If somebody wants it... Oh yes, I forgot about the Mercedes of baby buggies, pinched from the front of my flat in Barcelona on a sunny summer day- really, if you need to steal a baby buggy than you need it more than I.

I found an odd comforting feeling, reading the Times article. I suppose that it's nice to think that I'm not the only key-less wing nut on the continent. It helps to live in a building with a doorman these days, as my key-less habits die hard in Toronto where I do need a fob to unlock and allow access.

Wishful thinking on that key free way of life.

Bad Latitude

2010-01-06T08:30:00.001-05:00

I will chalk up my recent fowl mood to the latitude of Toronto. One of my fave ads of recent memory was a beer commercial that preached "change your latitude , change your attitude." If only it was that easy. SAD, or the lack of light causing Seasonal Affective Disorder is a type of depression that occurs at the same time every year. If you're like most people with seasonal affective disorder, your symptoms start in the fall and may continue into the winter months, sapping your energy and making you feel moody. This applies only if the latitude you find yourself in actually has a summer. For those of us susceptible to SAD, it seems a change of latitude may be the only quick fix. Good to know that Westjet flies to points south and to Cuba from Toronto. So my preferred latitude is not 43°.72″N,(Toronto) or even 41°23′N, (Barcelona) but 37° 45' 55" N ( San Fran/Oakland.)

Local Snooze

2009-12-07T09:09:00.009-05:00

My Sunday newspaper experience is off the mark here in the great white north. The big weekend paper here in Toronto is the Saturday paper. Unlike the states, where the Sunday newspaper is always available on Saturday. It's catnip for us news junkies (knowing you can cheat and read it a day early is simply delicious.)

Unlike the states, where real news can sometimes shine through and land upon the front page
(LA Times, NY Times both led the weekend news round up with the Afghanistan troop build up.)

Here, the local papers seem to seek out the ole adage " if it bleeds it leads," and here in Canada that means hockey. The front page of the Toronto Star gave front and center to the disturbing story that referees are intimidating young players of Canada's national past time. The next big story on page two- the pressure is just too much for many young hockey players, as many feel the need to perform well for a shot at the big leagues.

Here is a story I would be interested in reading: how many Canadian hockey players ended up not in the professional arena of skating but of dentistry. Seems like a sure recession proof choice of career for those not worthy of that big ice rink in the spot light.

Cruel I know, but a girls' gotta have fun even here in Canada. Poke poke.

So like any good transplant wanting to embrace the local culture and fit in I bought ice skates this weekend. Paired with a goofy hat I could be a local. Even if it's just to blend in and drink spiked hot cocoa rink side.I gotta believe if ya look the part it's half the fun.

The thing I can't embrace, won't try any longer to put lipstick on? The local newspaper or snooze as I so fondly refer to it now. Hello Sunday NY Times and goodbye Toronto Sun.

My psyche has already improved just knowing that my Saturday will be devoid of any hockey, curling, or Steven Harper stories.

Canuck Monopoly

2009-11-23T09:23:00.012-05:00

I find myself owning more board games at this juncture of life. Could it be the under age group residing in my household that dictates this use of time and mental bandwidth? It certainly contributes.
The real reason is the weather. As we await the impending weather here in Toronto we do what any California transplant does- buys more non-local wine of the red varietal, and more board games.
The newest of the boxed bunch- City Monopoly. This version allows you to build high rises and sewage treatment plants next door to your neighbors with very little regard for local planning. This newest variety got me thinking about how many genres of Monopoly there really could be. The capitalist bent of the game is always the competitive, capitalistic, money hoarding and free wheeling American psyche brought to it's simplest form: an evening of togetherness. Capitalist tendencies do coincide with Canadian cultural habits but in such a humbled form the tendencies seem like the mere shadow of what they represent.

Enter the newest idea for a board game (yes, it's my own idea) Cunuck Monoploy.
This version of the game has very little in common with it's sibling from the states. First off, it's all about complacency. And hockey.

The rules of my version of Canadian Monopoly would be as follows: If you say something rude to the TTC driver you must attend a class. Instead of jail, we have Canadian charm school where one learns the ever popular passive -aggressive way of smiling and waving at your neighbor vs flipping em the bird.
The real estate around the board is heavily suburban-cottage country focus, since the cottage country adjective is so tightly knit to Canadian Identity that it only seems authentic to the rules of the game to include it. Other key real estate on the game board includes bankrupt hockey teams in Arizona. Don't worry though, you'll never be able to buy them.

The big GO on the American gameboard would be replaced with the LCBO or the liquor control board, which exists on the corner end where collecting a salary would be on the American version of the game. Instead of free parking, there's Canadian Tire.

Chance cards offer the following advice and direction: "Go directly to your television and find a curling game. Watch this television channel for 20 min" (which will seem like 2 weeks.) Another chance card might read "go directly to Swiss Chalet and order the french fries with poutine."
( American's who have never head of this: think Denny's greasy french fries smothered in gray gelatinous gravy.)

The game pieces would be as follows: a mitten, a hockey skate, a hockey stick, a hockey puck, a zamboni, a can of Labatt's beer, a woolen hat in red, a chain saw, and a snowmobile.

The winner of the game will be the one with an average amount of money, driving a Buick SUV, and owning a piece of the cottage county with a winter get away at Blue Mountain.

It's so very nice and civilized, this game of Canadian Monopoly. Just remember that complacency replaces strategy. And don't forget to smile a great deal.

Can you tell that today I miss California?

Dilettantish Darkhorse

2009-11-10T09:17:00.000-05:00

Cozy can be described as anything that gives you a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of your soul.

A cafe of recent finding has the cozy affect cornered as my new free wifi hang and coffee connection. Canadian coffee culture is a great deal like the Canadian wine culture: M.I.A.
Why the culinary bitch slap you ask? When placing a coffee order the server always asks "what do you like in your coffee" and proceeds to add the cream or sugar or ? to the cup. Yes, I know it's so wrong on so many levels but that's the long and the short of coffee here.

I consider it a Canadian cultural divide.

The Darkhorse cafe on Spidina has all the charm of an uber chic San Francisco hang coupled with the coffee culture akin to Seattle- A true hybrid. Think capitalistic love child cafe. Why the capitalist slam you ask, well this artistically barista-d cafe is more expensive than Starbucks and if you let me geek out with a purely foodie metaphor the Darkhorse cafe is Sonoma to the Toronto coffee oasis as the humble noir grape is to Sonoma. Okay, it's metaphorically a stretch but I think you get where I'm going.

If anything at all is gonna get me through the great white snowy season that awaits, it's great coffee and a cafe vibe that rivals most metropolitan cities: Barcelona comes to mind. Rome too. Perhaps it's a nod to Canadian civility as conceitedness takes a well placed stance at the back of the que right next to snotty and attitude since none of that seems to exist here at the dark horse cafe.

Today it's mixed mob of fashionistas, artist's, geeks, and office types all basking in the vibe.It looks like a deelicious trail mix of humanity.

The weather promises to offer sunshine and warmth, so the excitement level is somewhere between the Easter bunny arriving and an open bar at the Ritz . Yes, really that happy.

Of course just as I state the obvious with my neglected Ray-Bans getting some long overdue use, tomorrow may bring an entirely different vibe to my coffee experience here at the darkhorse, but today it's about as good as it gets here in the fair city of T.O.

Why Is Your Christmas Tree Parked Next To The Halloween Candy?

2009-11-02T19:34:00.008-05:00

Remember when you were a kid, how time seemed to crawl ever so slowly by.. The wait for Halloween catapulted you into the big leagues of countdowns..tic tock Christmas is t-minus how many days away??

I only ask because last week I stopped into Ikea only to find trees trimmed in full Christmas celebratory style-ala-ikea. Whaaat? October...so is it me or is it really a stretch?

Who is responsible for this phenomenon? As an ahhm..American, I used to think my twisted culture was the culprit. But alas, sweet Swedish ikea has succumbed to the capitalist cocktail that America shakes and serves up even in these economic times.

Oh yeah, the economy is still being shaken like a snow globe, so it's apropos to have the holiday cha-ching so early in autumn I suppose..

Yes, I like the change of the seasons here in Toronto. The capitalism I thought I left behind...not so much.

Does Santa accept letters from us a wee bit earlier due to our proximity to the pole. Hope so.

Casa De H1N1

2009-10-29T16:46:00.006-04:00

A virtual bus just ran over me. That's what it feels like. All the hype, all the frenzied CDC reports, and the icing on the cake: tah-dah...it's sitting here, right here in my own home. My two school aged peitri dishes brought it home.. cough cough. The first few daze were awful, maybe even woeful, especially for the harder hit seven year old. The crazy part is we have been hyper vigilant against germs. You can run but you can not hide from H1N1.

So where is that vaccine.. as NY and our Midwestern stateside neighbors form a neat que to receive the N1H1 jab I still can't wrap my head around why the Canadians continue to wait? Hello-Ottawa? Anyone paying attention? Yes, you are all so polite, but perhaps now is not the time to be polite or complacent.

Canada knew this wave of illness was coming, discussing it each and everyday in the media. Yet vaccine is not yet available for the general public. We are told by the Health minister who is like a tamer version of the CDC (the Canadian CDC) that Monday is the day. Yes- as in next week. That's the new improved, sooner that Nov.4th date.

W.t.f.? Why the wait. Stateside has more than a weeks' worth of time under it's belt administering vaccine. Why the wait in availability for Canada? Better yet why is the american transplant residing in Toronto asking this question? Where is the vocal local voice?

Cough cough, no one can hear you.

Off The Hook

2009-10-21T09:05:00.000-04:00

When people say they would like to run away and join the circus I always nod in agreement. I get it. I am such a cirque du soleil junkie that my secret pipe dream is to be a part of the troupe. Really.

The healthy channel instead is to be a groupie and see them all over the planet.
Check.

But this week when it was reported that a young performer of cirque died from injuries sustained from a trampoline fall during a practice, it brought it all into perspective. The circus is a dangerous business. Amazingly cirque du soleil reported this as it's first such tragedy after twenty-five years of performance.

Odds are that something is gonna happen if you spend enough time doing dangerous stuff. Remember Evil Knievel. Enough said. But circue performers are artisans who have trained as dancers and gymnasts and paid with due diligence to hone a skill set few mortals dare.

My 7 and 9 year old sons' sat mesmerized during the Sunday performance of Ovo. When questioned about the show, the nine year old said "That was off the hook."

Enough said.

I Spy

2009-10-11T13:04:00.009-04:00

The recent Toronto book fair honoring the written word was a smashing success.

This is something book geek worthy, and yes if the shoe is custom fit- then it is my duty to attend such geekiness, if only to show support to the other five attendees. Much to my chagrin, as I exited the Museum metro platform and ascended the stairs to Queens park I was met by a mob scene. All of this for the written word festival? Why yes indeed. Magazines, socialist wingnut writers, journalism non profits all had booths set up. I have learned that any Canadian festival is always showcasing Canadian. Glad I left my red and white pom poms at home.

Typically book festivals offer lots of free stuff-books out of print, proofed copies.Weirdly enough the only free books available were the ones being hawked by the religious groups in attendance. It seemed to me that even god or Allah is not recession proof. The funny -people- watching -moment of the event: a few Muslim guys arguing about which direction in which to kneel while praying. A couple of opinions and pointing fingers in various directions made the prayer blanket look more like a three stooges skit.

The true high light of the afternoon: Hanging with the cartoon creators of The Possum, and Spy Guy. My own short guys loved watching the creation of a customized piece of artwork, that was an extra goodie for purchasing a grab bag of comics.

Spendy Syrup

2009-10-06T10:12:00.000-04:00

As a California transplant here in Canada, few things wield intimidation like maple syrup. Laugh away but, If you are an oenophile (I like to identify as a wine nerd) so comparing maple syrup to french vino: nothing is as expensive (drop for drop than Bordeaux.) Pitch perfect analogy.

Why is this? I am also a foodie, a foodie who found the recent movie about Julia Child as emotionally satisfying as sitting down to an entire tub of ben & jerry cherry Garcia but I digress. The foodie mecca here in T.O. is the St. Lawerence Market.

The weekend farmer market at our noteworthy market the pilgrimage we all seek. Guss it could be worse since this is completely legal with no nasty hangover. The earlier you shop, the more educated and serious the food shopper. An inverse relationship exists in this regard. Later than 8:30, you are automatically tagged a tourist.
Back to my theme this weeek. Maple syrup- Pure maple syrup is graded according to Federal USDA regulations, and is based on both color and flavor. The grades are: US Grade A Light Amber, US Grade A Medium Amber, US Grade A Dark Amber, and US Grade B. Some states use a slightly different terminology, as does Canada, but the legal requirements for each grade are the same, regardless of what they are called. For example: Grade A Light Amber syrup is sometimes called Fancy Grade, and here in Canada it is called No. 1 Extra Light.

Well thank goodness it's not just for breakfast anymore. Baked pairs, braised beef, caramelized root veggies- sorry to geek out but these are all dee-licious with a dash of Canada's maple syrup.

So we'll choose to drink the Chilean reds so we can pop for the dark amber syrup.

All maple syrup grades are better than the artificial stuff. Otherwise it's strictly a matter of personal choice. Ask yourself : Which is better, white wine or red wine? Which is better, light beer or dark beer? Beer can probably be compared most easily to the different maple syrup grades/flavors. A light pilsner beer has a light color and delicate flavor, while a Stout or Porter has a very dark color and strong flavor. It's strictly a matter of personal choice, and there isn't one grade of maple syrup that is "better" than another. Thx for hangin'for the foodie geek out session. Now go sing the praises of the syrup-

Apples, Peaches. Pumkin Pie

2009-10-01T18:39:00.009-04:00

Happy October first. In celebration of seeing my breath this morning I decided to book my travel plans for warmer weather. Funny how things like frosty sidewalks will get ones' attention. Too bad the warm travel plan is months away. Suppose it makes it all the more delicious.
The bright note is we have trees ready to explode in a celebration of color, or colour if you're a local aye?

So where does on go to explore the beauty of mother nature and maybe enjoy a little apple cider? I took my own private straw poll today and was surprised to find that the answers were as diverse as the pocket books of those professing ideas. The deep pocket crowd suggested Montreal or Quebec.. That's nice and we certainly adore the food scene, but a weekend in Montreal is a great way to drop a grand. How about the finger lake area of Ny was another idea. Not so nice in my estimation, since drinking those sticky sweet Niagara wines figures in. The best answer: local farms just out of the city district. King City sounds like a destination but the website for the pick-your-own apples looks a little snoozey.

In this case snoozey is good, so off we will go in search of amazing cider. It's funny how asking such a simple question of where to go casts such a huge net. I'll report back, but don't be shy sharing personal favorites or places off the beaten trail. Have Subaru will travel.

My lunchdate

2009-09-29T14:52:00.015-04:00

I ventured home today to have a bite to eat for lunch, and make a few free calls on my VOIP line.. Man it's expensive calling stateside on a cell or regular land-line. Just as I sat down a bird of prey flew to my 16th floor window to dine upon a little free-range sparrow that she had just caught. My camera was in my bag so i snapped a few pics. I'm always in awe of any bird of prey. I like the forceful gaze and that amazing hooked beak- all the better to rip you apart (glad I'm not a small bird or rodent.) Amazing too on another level that as a city dweller I was able to experience something so spectacular, awe inspiring. Plus it was nice to have the lunch company.

After a quick google search lots of data came up about my lunch buddy. She was a kestrel. She lives (most likely) on the Island within my line of vision. She is a fearless yet patient hunter. My google net cast a whole genre of airy-fairy-symbolic & Indian mythology. I'm not one to knock this sorta stuff, especially coming from living next to the airiest-fairest zipcode stateside: Santa Cruz.

So the following is a snippet of mythological brain candy for you to savor or laugh at- after all, it's your snack.. The mystical totem that the kestrel represents: Agility & quickness. A bird that can stimulate a quick, graceful and agile mind. A visit from this bird will teach you how to use your mental facilities more effectively and more patiently(this I could use) to capture what you most need and desire. It not only has excellent vision, but its hearing is amazing (I could polish this skill set)-- so it reminds us to truly Listen and See what is around us, within our lives, and our place/responsibility within situations. I like that.

Next time I think I'll opt for the salad. Watching another carnivore devour her lunch left me wanting to become a bit more herbivore.

Politics & Rock n Roll

2009-09-25T17:46:00.017-04:00

Civilized and unrehearsed. These are two words typically not found in the same sentence when a political fundraiser is discussed. My entree into Canadian politics was such a refreshing change from what I know and loath of American spectator sport styled political fundraisers.

Aside from a few big and goofy sounding words (Attawapiskat) the evening fundraiser for the MP Charlie Angus was cordial and congenial for all attending. Aside from Bill Clinton, I don't know too many politicos who can pick up a musical instrument and play well. Evening music was a Canadian potpourri with JASON COLLETT, KATHLEEN EDWARDS, BOB WISEMAN, ANDY MAIZE, and ANDREW CASH (who announced that he is seeking the NDP nomination in Davenport, a Liberal-held enclave.)

The evening line up for the event was a glimpse into the crystal ball of up and comer rock stars and local glitterati.. Peach Berserk designer Kingi Carpenter designed a silk screened dress with Charlie's face. Charlie described the silk screened print photograph of his sweet mug as a mid sentence rant in the House of Commons heckling Bev Oda, then heritage minister. (She is now the Minister of International Co-operation.) Political wonkiness has never been so sexy!

Yet another political first... geez I am a lucky gurl....experiencing this eclectic mix-fashionistas of Toronto's Queen Street West and a mod squad mix of local luminary made for a delicious eve. All in the name of political support. I like this place more everyday.

The other high light of the evening involved an accordion. Yes, an accordion. Oh, did I mention the sock puppets?? Now if I could just find the snippet of last eves' soiree on youtube I could post it here. Magical moments are meant to be shared. Anyone...please forward the url..

An invention That Could Only Be Canadian

2009-09-22T07:02:00.009-04:00

Few things here in Canada evoke emotions and stir feelings of patriotic fervour like the king of all things Canadian: hockey.

Find yourself alone in a que, strike up a conversation about hockey and find that everyone around you has something to contribute. It's not a sport or even a mere past time. Think religion.

One short stop to the local Canadian Tire (Genre akin to target stores on testosterone vs mom&pop automotive.) Stroll thru household goods, end of season garden goods, and the hunting-fishing gear area you'll find yourself within a pond sized area of pucks.

Sticks of all sizes and cost, of course skates. No wimpy double runners here. Hockey skates come in tiny baby sized booties. These mini-skates look like something found upon the foot of most sweet smelling infants...then add a sharp blade. Now we can differentiate the true Canadians from the wanna bees.. and once those tiny toddler feet have met the ice most parents must figure why teach them to walk when you can teach them to skate first. After all, they have no teeth to knock out (that comes later on, like third grade team hockey.)

It was said that the fabled Pele was given a soccer ball before he could crawl. Bobby Orr perhaps teethed upon a rubbery puck.. This hockey religious experience; It's like nothing I have ever experienced. Is this a myopically singular fervor in most circles within the latitude of Ontario?
Ive been told it's a country wide phenomena that stretches for nine months out of the year.

Rant and Roll

2009-09-10T09:34:00.009-04:00

Okay it's time for a rant. Simple things always seem to be the things that turn into colossal sized pain-in-the-ass issues. Purchasing milk. As mundane as that seems I wanna know what's up with the milk in the bag routine which by the way Canada- no one else does, anywhere. There is no economy of scale buying the gallon or Liter of Leache here in Canada. Trying to pour it into my morning coffee is also a disaster in the making, Pouring it into a pitcher, forget it... This thing called a jug, it works really well.

This needs to change. Can't Canadians embrace the gallon jug or carton?? I just can't wrap my head around this one. Also can't imagine I am the only one ranting about this.

Why no wi-fi? The elusive signal is leaving me longing for stateside bandwidth. Oh little town of MountainView how do I miss you (never thought I would ever find myself saying that.) Google has given the gift of bandwidth to the minions of Mt.View..lucky bastards. Toronto Mayor David Miller- are you listening? Mostly no...But then again that's why Mayor Miller has a current popularity vote of just 29% tolerating him. Tolerating in Canadian terms is about as close as you're gonna get to hate.

My last rant involves the Toronto Film Festival, which begins today. Why the kid gloves surrounding the potential treatment, care and feeding of the stars as they flock to our fair city for the next ten daze of films, fun, and fashionable celeb spotting. The media has had such a ohh-woes-me, I hope the weather stays lovely for the stars. My guess is that anyone from the west coast is just happy to breath air they don't have to see, or worry about the Prius catching fire as the 49% containment of the fires burning could change as soon as the Santa Ana winds kick in again and potential torch L.A.

Honey moon over I suppose. It was sweet while it lasted. Now I can go back to being my mouthy, opinionated self. Sigh of relief....

The Major News Story

2009-09-09T06:48:00.004-04:00

I can't remember the last time I experienced a local event that received as much media attention as the first day of school opening in Toronto. Yesterday morning the local radio shows all made chit chat of first day of school jitters that ranged from traffic to packed lunches to the weather. For a city the size of T.O. to be solely focusedc upon this seemingly mundane (for most) issue struck me as a nostalgic throw back from the stone age. Im not slamming the media mind you, it's more of a deer -in-the-headlights moment to digest the information that here in Canada things like school are taken quite seriously.

What a concept! The glaring difference of course is that stateside, so many schools start at so many different times. Parocial, private, prep, and of course public..then the off the grid home schoolers who thumb thier noses at the establishment and sharper pencils to the beat of thier own drum. It really would'nt even be possible to give news coverage. But culturally, Americans at least in larger markets like the Bay Area of San Francisco have such bigger issues that the idea of kids returning to school gets lost in the flow of day to day minutia. Not a judgement call mind you more of a wow- that's interesting in a 1950's wholesome way.

The more I learn about how things work here in Canada the more I respect and admire the knack that Canadians seem to have for celebrating the mundane, the simple pleasures of everyday life. American culture would benefit from such a calming introspective moment, but of course Americans would need to put down the cell phone, grande latte and car keys long enough to enjoy the moment. That would be a tall order.

The Blue Angels, Library Cards and Brunch Oh MY!

2009-09-06T17:57:00.010-04:00

Yes, I know how to roll. Being the big swingin'dick in the world of reading, I'm finding it a bit pricy purchasing books weekly. Ive found a new found crush of sorts with the Stanza iphone app, but sometimes (really most times, except on the subway) nothing beats the experience of holding a book. Purist tendencies run deep.
Suppose it comes from an amalgam of senses: the heady mix of content, font, and binding of the book that makes it tough for me to abandon the source of story in its true form. Smell too. I love that crisp paper and ink waft that ensconces page after page. The other sought after attribute, being the book knob that I am... the autographed book. It's tough to have a first edition with a signature when it lives within my itunes folder Stanza account.

The new Sony reader looks and feels like a thin video game. Highly configurable and convenient to tuck into ones' bag, this e-reader by Sony is a nifty gadget, but it's just that...a gadget. The anti technology route? The library. Yes, the library isn't just for blue haired ladies and pedophiles lurking in the teen fiction isles. This is where those of us who burn through best sellers, new fiction work and biographies from the New York Book Review hang out awaiting the next shipment of delicious literature to chew up and spit out. Small city apartments are no match. Welcome the library card.

Except when you are not feeling very welcomed to the neighborhood branch in your new 'hood.
Glad to be as thick skinned as I am. It may have been easier to obtain a Platnium Amex card.

After triple-dog daring the woman behind the library reception desk to a game of "who knows more authors" (I was sadly rebuffed. Bitch.) Where's the love? I was handed a library card as if it was some sacred artifact for humanity's salvation. The saving grace? Today represents the last hurrah of summer with the Blue Angels blasting overhead.. It's time for brunch and a big ole bloody mary.

Good 2 B Home

2009-09-03T08:16:00.006-04:00

Just as I was finding my groove here in Toronto, I was called back to California on a family emergency. Maybe it's the mental helmet we all wear that sets our thoughts on a certain track or perhaps the environment in which we happen to find ourselves molds and shapes us to become a chameleon of our surroundings.

Why the weird lizard metaphor you might wonder?

It's shocking for me to say, but my short (so far) stint here in Canada has rubbed off on me. I like to think of Toronto as a big gummie eraser that has softened some of the sharp edges on my nerve-end-blunt personality. This softening was brought into a sharp focus the moment I stepped off the airplane in San Diego. Nothing signifies the American lifestyle quite like the cellphone-airline- wait in line patience(or lack there of ) experience of the airport stateside .

Putting my toes in the Pacific ocean made me momentarily miss all things American, until I returned to board my return flight to Toronto. The airport and it's throng of short fused passengers seems to highlight every cliche about the overweight, tennis shoe wearing, Starbucks coffee swilling American traveler. My jet lagged brain is happy to be dining on the Quay, back in my harbourfront neighborhood (which happens to be my home.) Toronto offers the best of both worlds-a civilized big city with a large body of water. Sure it's not the Pacific, but where else can I enjoy such an amazingly global vibe where the only Americans I spy are tourists. You know the ones: sporting tennis shoes, flabby tummies and grande sized paper cups of Starbucks... Nice to be home.

Smart is the new Sexy

2009-08-24T08:41:00.010-04:00

I am smitten. It's not an old school crush reignited. Not a facebook flashback from the past. No this new crush is the one I have on the local newspaper, The Toronto Star.
Before you yawn and go back to your facebook page, you owe it to yourself to pay attention to the amazing piece of journalism by Linda Diebel from the Saturday edition Toronto Star. For you politicos out there, this is a well researched and opinionated piece. Decent investigatory writing seems to be a lost art, or so I thought. An amazing story is unfolding about the handful of Canadians stranded around the globe as the government looks the other way, which is abhorrent. The article can be found here.

The impetus for these recent stories of wayward travelers: Suaad Hagi Mohamud. The good news is she's back home in Toronto after her three month ordeal of being called an impostor. Left to twist in the wind by the Canadian government because her lips looked different from her four year old photo in the passport she held. Note to self: No Juviederm before traveling internationally.

Newby that I am to the area, I can't help but be impressed with the story bylines of the recent weeks dealing with the position that Ms. Mohamud found herself . Impressed that the art of journalism still exists in the old school world of newspaper. The Toronto stars' unparalleled coverage of this amazing saga deserves an applause.
Brava Ms. Diebel. It would be lovely to see you awarded a Pulitzer for your work, or maybe the Canadian equivalent.....the National
Newspaper Awards. Certainly not as glamorous, but better than no recognition.

Can't Cha Smell That Smell?

2009-08-20T20:52:00.007-04:00

Life in a high rise apartment building has it's good points, but also it's fair share of not so nice.

Like most of the posh buildings in downtown Toronto, we have the doorman wearing a suit, who smiles sweetly in the morning as he opens the door and bids you Adue. It's like having a surrogate parent wishing you well as you start your day.

The not soo nice? Weirdly enough, there's the seemingly year old Christmas wreath still hanging on the front door of #3406, now August the tired greenery smells like a cross between mildewy socks and a catbox. Then there's the boozey breathed guy on the 18 floor that always has the elevator smelling like a bottle of Tanqueray by the time I step in around 9:00 a.m. I have thought about suggesting he add a little milk to the morning gin & cheerio mix but haven't mustered the courage just yet. The elevator is a small paragraph of sociological intrigue all it's own. Elevator etiquette here in Canada differs greatly than say what I experienced while residing in Chicago. My building on ritzy Lake Shore Drive was home to the media elite (many of us worked at WLUP radio, CBS.) A handful of rockstars including Cheap Trick lead singer and guitarist Robin Zander also lived in the building. Elevator protocol was always to be too cool for school and not talk to anyone vs. today where anyone talks to anyone when the elevator doors open. Decidedly Canadian I suppose. It's sweet but I wonder how that's going to work once the H1N1 virus take hold this winter...hopefully mums the word.

I holdout hope however that the Christmas fans in #3406 replace that god awful wreath when the holiday season rolls around soon.

Sugar Sugar

2009-08-19T16:24:00.011-04:00

Comic book collectors are celebrating the long awaited hook-up of that goofy Archie to comic book hottie Veronica. Or are they celebrating? Many collectors of this series are chiming in with differing opionions. Imagine that- public spout offs about nothing of great importance. President Obama must be wondering why he can't shake out more support for his health care plan, and low en behold peoples brains are pondering the outcome of comic book lovers' triangles. Wow, never would have guessed that one.

The Archie Comics website shows Archie proposing to Veronica on bended knee on the cover of No. 600, which hits comic book stores today. Plot the love triangle penned into the six-issue story arc that takes place in the future – when the perpetual high schoolers have graduated from college, to quote Victor Gorelick, editor-in-chief of Archie Comics. He said people all over the world are reacting to Archie's choice and "mostly everyone feels bad for Betty.''

I get Archie's decision. Veronica is the dominatrix type who can work a pair of thigh high boots like no one in cartoon kingdom. Sure Betty is cute, but the bubble-gum blond goodie goodie demeanor is soo high school.

Veronica is a blogger and although not the most articulate, she works facebook like she works the crowd at her evening job as a stripper. Gone are the dayz of high school teeny bop: Comics have made it into the 21st century sporting a nicer edge and better graphics. Otherwise how could an X box game be in the cards if The Archies stayed completely G rated?

I put my money on a twist of fate for Archie and Veronica, or should I say tryst of fate with Betty in the mix by the time cover #610 is in print. The only way to make it even more interesting is to throw another vixen into the mix. My vote would be for a redhead.

Who knew comics could be so delicious?

Chill The F@*K Out

2009-08-18T19:30:00.012-04:00

This seems so silly. Blame British Columbia for this cheekiness: Coors Light declares the beer is "Colder Than Most People From Toronto." Making fun of Toronto is a unity issue that ties together everyone who doesn't live here, apparently a strategy that has been used for years. Weirdly it's not Molson(although they do own Coors) or Wellington poking fun while having a bit of fun playing up regional differences. Geez- C'mon Canadians... this is the battle you pick to fight? You bunch of beer babies can't even drink a decent microbrew, choosing instead to cry into your swilly American branded, Canadian owned beer...Eeew..Boohoo. Get over it.

Weirdly as a Bay Area transplant I find Torontonians amazingly friendly, and polite. What I like the best? I am finding the flirty, funny, and down right friendliness of my new hood' deelicious and I can't even imagine anyone taking offense to something sooo pedestrian. So that Canadian Complacency quip I tossed around a week or so ago needs an amendment of sorts.

Complacency with all things political, economic, and legal ( See this story?)

Pint of Stella anyone? Cheers!

Ohh The Places You'll Go

2009-08-17T13:05:00.016-04:00

We all have favorite travel stories. Mine typically have to do with the irritating way travel styles go array. Traveling through Guatemala with someone who found it impossible to lift their nose from the lonely planet book, or Yelp! website addicts who can't decide where to eat breakfast without a democratically elected opinion. Life on the road to adventure can get gritty when one travelers' idea of camping is the Hotel Arts Barcelona but the other partner in crime is free wheeling- get off the plane -train- bus and walk into the world content to sleep where ever, but that too makes for great travel fodder.

A good friend of mine came back from a whirl wind trip that covered a zillion miles and a gaggle of gorgeous locales. I couldn't help but post his work, as he is about the funniest, well read person on the planet. In the spirit of all things summer, Enjoy life in the moment!
What better way than with pictures and captions to sum up the tasty kernel depicting moments on the road.
For me this is the best of an experience distilled down to a tasty snippet- enjoy... This is what summer is all about.
Thank-you to my good friend Dave Benson, Radio Programming maestro and photographer /writer, world traveler. Nice Work. Now get back to work slacker boy.

Caption: i don't even want to know what they cook in here.

everybody needs a place to call their own

even the inside of my hat gives me advice.

view from the rooftop bar/restaurant in Istanbul. it's all well and good until tomorrow morning when some guy decides to put the boom box on 11 and give a shout out on Mohammed's behalf.

To Dance Or Not 2 Dance

2009-08-16T21:46:00.000-04:00

The old saying that excitement is infectious doesn't seem to hold true for concert goers here in T.O.

I was listening to an interview on the New Yorker Podcast with John Seabrook who was discussing the history of rock concerts. The mystic of venue, sound quality and overall experience has changed for concert goers as the music-concert genre has morphed into big stadium shows that lack sound quality and control. Depersonalized.

A handful of sweet little concert venues still exist here in Toronto (The Mod Theater comes to mind with Matt Nathanson putting on an awesome show) The swanky n sweet Drake Hotel is a gem that serves marvelous martinis during music shows. A big exciting part of seeing a live show is experiencing this lost art of showmanship, of course acoustics add to the overall small venue experience of an energized crowd. No small part of this experience is the energy of a crowd turned on by the performer.

My thread of niceness concerning my Canadian hosts has run it's course. Sad to say, but sometimes an edge to ones' personality is a necessary evil. Or maybe just a pulse would be fine here under the red and white flag waving it's friendly maple leaf everywhere.. The concert experience in Canada is about as energy filled as watching paint dry. Okay, perhaps that analogy is a bit harsh. Think airport lounge television experience: the Canadian sport of Curling on every monitor and they've announced a delay for your flight. So after a month here, I can say the experience is pretty similar whether the band is rock, jazz or pop... snore. The scene looks like this: no pushing or shoving, no dancing, not much physical mosh pit like crunch/crush. Sound like fun? Sure, if this describes waiting for the subway but a live music show deserves a better return of our creative investment.

To solve this dilemma? I thought I might ask for feedback, as buying drinks for the entire venue could get spendy.

Is Canada The New China

2009-08-10T15:04:00.008-04:00

No, Not due to the recent typhoon. This comparison is purely censorship driven. What does censorship have to due with living in Canada you might wonder. The lock on the telcom/internet world is an arm wrestle between a couple of players here in the great northern enclave of Canada. The carrier that hosts the service in the apartment has a devilish way of blocking out or redirecting DNS searches. I can't access google at the oddest of time. No, I don't have a online porn habit that needs to be curtailed by the Rogers Telephone control freaks, but in the last week (notice my lack of posts??) Weird re directs occur on my machine when I have attempted to google ANYTHING... be it a search, a gmail account, or my urbanfirefly account. In what appears to be a violation of Net Neutrality by Rogers Cable, Digital Home readers ( me included) are reporting that Rogers High Speed Internet service has begun redirecting customers "Server not found pages" to webpages laden with Rogers advertising.

The hijacking of the webpage appears to be attempt by Rogers to use its Deep Packet Inspection (DPI) technology to cash in on the mistakes of its users.

Pissed off is really an understatement. So who do I rant to? Well the first stop was the customer assistance line at Rogers. Of course after feigning ignorance on any re-direct from any where, it was deemed that perhaps I needed a refresher course or how-to- surf the Internet. Even recommended where to find the classes. As if.

My very Canadian service rep soon heard a stream of expletives come pouring from my mouth, I vow to take the censorship to the ether and have it reign down upon f#$K face Rogers Internet for redirecting and basically controlling where I surf. China has this in spades, but Canada...

He Shoots He Scores

2009-08-04T20:29:00.006-04:00

I think we have a new nick name for Bill Clinton. Catnip. Catnip Clinton was on a "private humanitarian mission" to see his little friend Kim Jong-il and discuss the release of Laura Ling and Euna Lee, of San Francisco-based Current TV. Both women had been taken into custody in March near the border with China while reporting on refugees fleeing North Korea. They were sentenced to hard labor for illegal entry and "hostile acts." Bill Clinton had "expressed a deep apology that the [two female reporters] entered the country illegally and committed hostile acts against the republic." I feel your pain.. but we have cocktails awaiting and a plane to catch.
I wonder if Catnip brought along boot leg DVDs of current Hollywood blockbusters to break the ice and put a smiley face on a situation his wife Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton merely described as petulant and childish (referring to Kim Jong-il and those pesky nuclear tests from a few weeks ago.)

I would have loved to have had the fly on the wall experience of eavesdropping on what I imagine: the scene of Kim and Bill, enjoying a bowl of Kim Chee while watching Hangover, laughing about frat boy antics and comparing notes on the best lap dance in Vegas.

Who else is ecstatic? H.E. Mr. Miguel d'Escoto Brockmann, President of the 63rd session of the United Nations General Assembly has gotta be doing the happy dance. This Catnip Clinton gesture places a band-aid of sorts upon the recent North Korea United Nations resolutions defiance of nuclear arms.

What about that inconvenient tie between Clinton inner circle stiff guy: past VP of The United States of America/past CEO of Current TV Al Gore? Why not invite him along for a few cocktails flying first class. Clinton's spokesman said the former president had left Pyongyang with the two reporters and they were en route to Los Angeles.

Mr. Clinton has gotta be thinking "it's good to be me" today. I couldn't agree more. Especially if this could pave the way to direct nuclear disarmament talks. He shoots He scores- Pure Catnip.

Complacency: A Canadian Cultural Trait

2009-08-03T16:07:00.011-04:00

After a month here in Canada, I have an opinion about the overall lack of initiative on the part of environmental groups. The recent strike could have -should have -would have been the catalyst for change. Except no groups stepped forward to seize the moment.
Excuses, excuses. These ranged from :not enough time to organize (37 days) to summer vacation.

The people who consider themselves "environmentalist" must have been up at the cottage. For those not familiar with the cottage concept, picture in your mind a season of three months and a crazed urgency people exhibit for getting away to visit the land of the black fly and mosquito. Seems like a lot of work to me, but then I am used to having a longer runway of nice weather to enjoy. Talk to me in the spring, and perhaps I will be singing a different tune. But really- each and every free moment of the so called summer season for many here in Canada is time spent lakeside.
It's much like the Tahoe phenomenon in California with a highly evolved myopic view of venue.

With the Canadian love of nature, and sustainability worn on the cuff of everyone who weathered this strike for the past month, a few observations came to mind. This could be considered a rant by Canadian terms, so avert your eyes as the following paragraph o' vitriol.

The media places the blame for environmental complacency to: summer vacation. Yes, here in Canada the environmentalist rabble rouses, pot stirrers and soap box fans all take a break from their pot stirring. Hard to believe, but the local press blames this summer vacation phenomenon for the lack of any activist messages aimed at enticing people to make smarter choices when shopping. Puchasing goods with less packaging, being a vocal forefront for changing consumer habits-but instead of seizing the opportunity to make politically charged socially important messages framed by a backdrop of garbage bags we got..... nada.

Sometimes marketing opportunities just don't get any better than the recent visual of football field sized waste holding areas, too bad none of the environmental groups here capitalized.

Complacency accompanied with a fine set of rationalization runs deep here. Of course I'm just a pushy American (suppose that's redundant too.) but at least I know an opportunity when I see one, and that too is very American .

Evoke change? There's always next time.

The Staycation

2009-08-02T19:15:00.009-04:00

Sloth. Couch Potato. Slacker. Today it's an easy fit for any of the three adjectives. Despite the beautiful weather the most productive thing accomplished today: reading the paper. Weirdly enough the Sunday paper here in Canada is pretty thin. I suppose the assumption is that an August Sunday should be spent doing more arduous tasks than reading the paper.

The city is looking it's spit polished self again with the city municipal workers back on the clock. Garbage collection has taken place around the clock, along with ferry service to the Islands that loom just beyond a quick sail across the lake. Even that fabulous view couldn't unseat me today.

I've noticed the media and marketing wizards of the world have coined a term for this sort of no plan, rudderless agenda at least when it coincides with a three day holiday weekend: Staycation.

Unlike a vacation with posh hotel room service, and delicious over priced mini bar delights my staycation culinary highlight of the day was an online pizza order/delivery.

Yes, it is an oxymoron to actually post a blog about sloth like behavior, but hey- it's a cathartic reason of sharing my guilt of missing a beautiful day. Especially when beautiful days are considered a scarce commodity in this part of the world. Maybe a few evening hours left of sultry summer weather can tug me from my ivory tower life here in T.O

Cocktails & Croquet anyone?

Bless Me Father...

2009-08-01T16:39:00.007-04:00

What does Snoop Dogg and the Pope have in common?

No it's not the fondness of wearing big bling or a cool lid. Weirdly enough, both his holyness and the hip hop rap rock star are represented by Geffen Records. Word is, the November release of Pope Benedict XVI's album entitled, "Alma Mater," will contain songs and prayers to the Virgin Mary. My first question is who did the market research for this one? Will itunes carry the cd, and when will the video be released.

I wish I could throw my hat in the ring for directing the creative for video produced. I envision a pussycat dolls meets his holiness dance video with lots of cleavage sporting large crucifix necklaces and super short parochial school tartan print skirts. Embellish with high heels (for the dolls, not his holyness.) Sex sells, even the Vatican must see that. Why else choose an American icon of entertainment as representation?

Radio stations typically receive swag or merchandise to giveaway when promoting new albums/cd's. This is a marketing persons' wet dream: worldwide exposure meets endless open ended promotional opportunities- pope in the pizza, holy water bubble wands. Then there's the tee shirts... Why do I need to write about this you ask? The sheer strangeness of Snoop dogg and the pope receiving record royalties from the same corporation, it's just too bad this isn't an April fools joke.

Dee-licious

2009-07-30T19:30:00.006-04:00

The old saying of you don't know what you have till it's gone? Well I am here to say that the truth rings true in this cliche. My beloved Mini Cooper was sold a few months ago before exiting stage left from California. The California car culture is so tied to peoples' persona's that it's a cliche in and of itself. Of course a few of my favourite people on the planet don't even own vehicles, so I suppose cars and the charisma of automotive muscle is lost on some folks. Not me.

Enter stage right, Zipcar. The stateside phenomenon sweeping the urban set as an option to the unwanted burden of car ownership. Think time share. Think no-tell-motel by the hour set...yeah baby. This is the perfect mix of ease, accessibility and gas fumes all coalesced into a bit sized sampler box: Drive a Mini,(my ride of choice today) an Audi, a Honda... whatever wherever your little heart desires. Did I mention how easy? A credit card from the Zipcard folks unlocks the car. You simply walk up, swipe the card against the windshield. The car unlocks and the key is on a zipline next to the ignition. Adjust your mirrors, apply lipstick and most importantly turn the radio up really loud and off U go! (ipod aux- in available for those too groovy for radio.)

No fuss, no worry about door dings or even where to park.. Grow weary of the car? Drive something else next time around. It's like being single again. Variety IS the spice of life, and Zipcar is a lot like a fling: fun, fast, and on the fly....How can you not be smitten with the frivolity of that?

Did I mention that a gas credit card is included? Yes, cocktails are on the house (it is sort of like that..)

All in all it was great fun. I'm hooked. It's the best of all worlds. Next time you feel up for an afternoon of city driving angst or a quick hop to the beach look no further than Zipcar.

Now if they only offered a surf rack for my windsurf gear-

Drip Drop

2009-07-29T18:33:00.003-04:00

Enough of this rain already.

The romantic notion of misty evening city walks washed down the rain gutter after the third downpour today. What's up? Where is the hot weather, since this is after all almost August... The meteorologist had this to say this morning "We have found summer and it's vacationing in the North." Yeah, and did it happen to mention that it might swing our way east?

I love the calm cool demeanor of the Canadian Culture. What I am not liking, at least at the moment is the lack of summer. Northern California has not really enjoyed a good soaking in a few years. I for one really missed this, as the smell and taste of the air is altered. The ozone and smog washed away and clear sky's beam as far as the eye. I suppose the grass really is greener right now this moment in time. Mean while I have windsurf gear collecting dust as I await the sultry summer season, wanting to be drinking Vino Verde on a beach blanket here along the water front.

Wishful thinking reins as we wait out the rain in Toronto. Maybe Cuba is balmy... I can get there from here. Hmmmm....

And For What........

2009-07-28T12:00:00.005-04:00

A sigh of communal relief was breathed last night with the news that the strike here in Toronto may be ending this week. Friday will be the day of reckoning when the city council votes.

Well that was so civil. So Canadian. Civility IS the strong suit here, but don't mistake my poke as that is indeed worth a lot.
What makes me wanna pick a fight? Suppose it's the lack of a fight. The seeds of political discontent here in Canada seem planted almost hydroponically- no deep roots. Nothing to really dig your heels into here. The lack of political activism is weirdly missing in such an urbane environ. Did I mention how smiley Torontonians are?

Maybe you can't have it all, but how do things get accomplished if everyone sort of grits their teeth while sporting a smile and agrees affably? The last 33 days of stinky garbage piled to the sky with playgrounds closed (because playgrounds here have become the make-shift dumps.)
Good luck trying to read up on editorials- No really angry opp ed pieces in the paper. No sign of in-your-face opinions from either side. None. Snoore...............

Then just like that....snap snap.... big wordy battles ? Guess not. Never to materialize. No real newspaper coverage unless you count the small one column piece buried on page 4 yesterday, page 2 on Sunday. Apparently all concessions seemingly met (at least that's the early word on the street.)

Soo the question looms: why bother with 32 extra days of discontent? Wouldn't it have been easier to just let the union arm twist and the Mayor and his minions bend over. Posturing?
Not even. Political instincts non existent in Toronto, this is one mayor that will be a casualty of natural selection.

Nice.

The losers? The city of course. Taxpayers will pony up in the end to honor the sick days banked by municipal employees. Never mind that the numbers don't add up. The Mayor will be long gone but his lasting legacy will be the red slimy trail he leaves behind upon the city' spreadsheets, garden slug that he is.

Uggh. What a waste.

I know what your thinking? Why do you care so much, Ms.California transplant? My serious case of American ethnocentric political angst shining through like the sun.

Yep. Stir the pot. Maybe I can teach my Canadian neighbors a thing or two about activism, American style. I will, in turn practice good manners and tone down the rudeness.

Pinky promise.

J'Adore Contador

2009-07-25T19:11:00.020-04:00

Who doesn't love the underdog? The final push of the Tour de France is spinning it's way through the streets of Paris. Ahh, the best bread and by far the best people watching. Cycling at the helm, that cutie pie Alberto Contador. What's not to love- a Spanish (Madrid) mad-dog on wheels. When word was out that the other stud muffin of yellow jersey fame would be sharing the spoke-light of team fame, why was the drama not dished as high as a paella pan full of arroz?
Lance Armstrong announced that he was returning to professional cycling with the express goal of participating in the 2009 Tour de France. Team Astana manager Johan Bruyneel, Armstrong's former mentor and sporting director, said that he could not allow Armstrong riding for another team and later signed him. The announcement by Armstrong clashed with the ambitions of Contador, who insisted he deserved the leadership of Astana, and hinted at the possibility of leaving the team if he was given a secondary role supporting Armstrong.Contador was later given assurances by Bruyneel that he would remain team leader and decided to remain at Astana for the 2009 season. Was this a mistake? Contador later claimed the situation on the team could be sorted out on the road. The yellow jersey never looked better than upon Contador.

I like that kind of drama-rama, especially from boys! Add expensive bicycles, media coverage non stop against the backdrop of the Pyrenees it's hard not to be the moth to the flame.

Can't get enough? Me neither... Toast a glass of Cava s'il vous plaît to the yellow Jersey-wearing drama clad madrileño who makes all of us proud rooting for the underdog.

Day 26

2009-07-17T09:02:00.008-04:00

Walter Reuther must be turning over in his grave.
Why you ask?

The striking union workers here in Toronto resemble picnic-ers vs picket-liners. What's wrong with that? A lot. First off, the union has a very staunch stance on workers rights. My very first indoctrination with political strife came from the unionized autoworkers in Detroit. Such strong impressions from that angry vocal crowd of unionized workers left an indelible mark upon my elementary school psyche.

Flash forward today: the garbage strewn park in my Toronto neighborhood (day number 26 of the garbage strike.) It's not awful by any stretch but it's evident that something is amiss. My bigger concern or question comes from the lack of anger, angst, in your-face-signs that spell out a list of what the city workers seek. Instead you find a picnic table of people gathered 'round maybe reading, having some coffee. You might think that it's a family gathering or just a few friends out enjoying the day but no, it's a picket line. Or a picket picnic table. I would have taken a picture but I was on rollerblades and at an age where I can't walk and chew gum let alone rollerblade...

So what are they asking for, these non-picketing picketers? Well in this day in age we go to the source: no, not the president of the union or the spokesperson for the union...or even the bottle-blond dork of a mayor. Go to the website. Sure enough, there it is... The mayor and the unions are equally responsible, as the little bit of budge from either side is negligible. What is impressive? The city has strike information available via pdf in fifteen languages.

Question is will we drown in a sea of garbage bags since the end of this strike looks unattainable.

Love The Look

2009-07-16T07:05:00.005-04:00

North Carolina welcomes it's newest neighbor: Bernie Madoff. Leaving behind the Frette sheets, Irish linen pj's and cashmere socks Mr. Madoff now sports the polyester-blend prison jumpsuit. He's in good company in Butner NC as the following high profile inmates share the pilates studio at this posh medium security federal penitentiary; Adelphia Communications own John Rigas and son Tim, who were convicted on multiple charges,including securities fraud and concealing $2.3 billion in liabilities from corporate investors. Jonathan Pollard, an American who spied for Israel and Omar Abdel-Rahman, the "blind sheik," who is serving a life sentence for trying to kill Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak and blow up the United Nations. This is like the all-star squad. Do you think they may form a secret investment-ponzi club? I imagine a marketing idea from the bad boys of Butner to be "Invest all of your snack stash with us and receive an unbelievable 12% return on your ritz crackers." At the very least a prison book club or writers salon to kibitz about memoirs/tell-all books. Evening cups of tea drank together discussing strategies to off-shore amazon booksales proceeds. It just seems like old habits die hard.

What's odd is that many a cottage industry has sprung up around these white collar criminals: prison coaches are the new personal trainer. With all of the security fraud and big fish like Bernie, it's easy to see how a little advice on what it's like inside the big house would garner press and business opportunities for all parties on either side of the bars.

I just wonder if they have to share yoga mats. It just seems wrong for them to have such a posh and privileged penitentiary pad as well as federally subsidized organic bamboo yoga togs.

Potato-Potatoe

2009-07-15T07:25:00.007-04:00

It's been said that Canadians are simply dis-armed Americans with health care. But there is more than just the coveted care system. Canada has very little dialect diversity compared to the United States. The phonetics, phonology, morphology and syntax for most of Canada are similar to that of the midwest. Differences abound with simple communication.

Annunciation, pronunciation and syntax of the local lingo takes some practice. Is it Spadina or Spadeena? Que, Quay or Key... The easiest key to this lock on the local language of course is local radio. Between weather and traffic one can pretty much guarantee a spot-on spew of the Canadian scene. There is a reason why Canadians get the elbow jab and snicker delivering the EH- routine. Each and every social interaction with a real live Canadian will elicit this. The farther north one travels you can count on conversation peppered with Eh, Aye, Eye, and 'Dayre. String em all together and you have the friendly form of a hello or at least an informal introduction. I have yet to find my self in a formal setting so I can't be sure that the salutation would be any different. Sure it's cute in an aw shucks kinda way but where did it come from and why is it so damn en grained, even within the urban lexicon?

Enquiring minds wanna know, or at least this inquisitive busy body so here is the drill down on the small but fascinating differences.

The Canadian 'accent' can be heard most easily in the following words: out, about, house, and others with 'ou'. For example, canadian pronunciation of the word 'out' is like 'e' as in 'pet' followed by 'oot' as in 'boot', sounding like 'e'+'oot'. American pronunciation of 'out' is more like 'ow' as in 'cow', sounding like 'ow'+'t'. Other words often pronounced differently are 'pop', and 'roof'. Of course, the trademark 'eh' at the end of a statement is a dead giveaway.
Canadian spellings can also cause confusion: colour vs color, cheque vs check, centre vs center, etc.
Canada uses the metric system, although canadians quote their height and weight in feet/inches and pounds. Industry, for the most part, uses imperial units.
For measuring temperature, Canada uses Celsius (rather than Fahrenheit).
Although there are many differences in prices of things between US and Canada, two that stand out are the after-exchange lower prices of electronics in the US, and the far lower prices of CDs in Canada. Also, there is a pricing inversion for CDs such that in the US the older CDs are the cheapest, while in Canada it is the newest releases that are usually on sale.
The drinking age in Canada is 19 in most provinces, and 18 in Alberta, Manitoba, and Quebec. Note that the provinces where it is 18 alternate as you go west to east. Coincidence?
Soda/pop is made with corn syrup in the US, and sugar in Canada---this changes the taste significantly. Maybe this is why American soda drinkers look cornfed.
Football rules: size of our footballs, football fields, and one less down
Canadian inventions: ski-doos, jet-skis, velcro, zippers, insulin, penicillin, Zamboni, the telephone, short wave radios, robertson screws (square hole)

More than you ever wanted to know about Canadians? Thought so.

Allergy Free:

2009-07-14T06:32:00.001-04:00

Soft and fluffy. No, not the family pet but the news coverage here in Canada. Is it wrong? A small sociological study could be scripted on how the delivery and non inflammatory nature of how information and news is disseminated ala no glitz, no glamour just a happy face spin on the world doom and gloom. Civility and grace. No scary breathing from the talking head who can't raise an eyebrow due to all that botox. Small wonder HD tv has done wonders for the cosmetic giant corporate king pin Allergan and it's stock price. Canadian news lacks the glam and the glitz and botox so it's all good.

As a news junkie, this is a new and delicious find for me. I had sworn off the talking heads of the state side news machine corporate conglomerate (sorry for the redundancy) spewing a seamless thread of doom followed with a dash of gloom. Even the packaging: split screen stories separated by rapid-fire teletype cutting stories and news smut not given video into a Mondrian print sans the color. Catering to the knat like attention span/ADHD in all. . I gave up watching this drivel after CNN, FOX, and even CNBC began sporting the same copycat look. BBC Canada and OMNI news have added the scrolling teletype to the bottom of the screen but I will cut them a bit of slack because I love the BBC. Strong words yes, but the correct adverb for this instance.

So how does Canadian Media do it? Keeping the glitz and ambulance chasing stories to a minimum is a strong start. The station CTV has only a slight nervous twitch detected in it's voice when discussing H1N1. Currency reports are even optimistically delivered with a wide-eyed woo-hoo of a full one cent gain for the Canadian currency. These stories would not be a big deal stateside, not even late night worthy on Bloomberg. So maybe it's the simple ending to the news snippet that makes it all palatable and civil: "Thank you for welcoming us into your homes today and hope you will join us again" the closing salvo to today's news cast how can I not return tomorrow? Artificial sunshine has never felt soo good. All star baseball anyone?

The Simple Thngs

2009-07-13T15:56:00.000-04:00

One of the first things on the to do list when relocating to any new city : the quest for decent Za.

Call it pizza, a slice or pie: all roads lead down the same path.
In a town the size of Toronto (2.8M) one would think that it's a slam dunk...
The usual suspects of Yelp, Chowhound, and Craigslist all point to one gaping whole the size of Italy. The question looms: where oh where do I find such a seemingly simple culinary request?

I have a list of the don't bother: Pizza Pizza (the Mediterranean arrived with Broccoli) Madanto was a solid C- as a quick slice in hand as I dashed down the street last week. Dino's was less than memorable but worth a second try in the near future. Amico's with a decent online shopping/ordering experience is supposedly en route as I type.

Pizza is subjective. Subjective as art really. I sort of consider a good pizza an art form. Not a Degas or a Cezanne but more Picasso. Interpretive of crust as the medium, much like oil or acrylic begs a certain appetite pizza is really no different. The creative process for me is typically a thin crust with pepperoni or a true Marguerite with nothing but basil and fresh mozzarella. Purist pursuits really.
The great thing about the simple beauty of a simple pie is the sanctity of simplicity meeting fresh ingredients but I digress into food porn.

The other problem with ordering pizza to be delivered is well...it's delivered. Pizza should be eaten properly ala fresh from the oven directly to my plate (preferably not paper plate please) but alas kids change the pizza equation. So delivery it is.. but when it arrives it will come out of it's cardboard coffin and into a hot oven if just to burn off that awful delivery box after thought.

Yes, I have probably spent too many years in California but Chicago, another great pizza town is part of my lineage too. I can't even bring up the Michelangelo of pizza cities, NYC so I will stop this train now.

T-minus 35 min and counting. Oh...music to my ears, the door man has called to alert a delivery person. Keep your fingers crossed..btw any suggestions forth coming always welcome.

If It Barks Like A Dog

2009-07-09T08:59:00.000-04:00

The good bad and the ugly of Craigslist. My glass slipper got stepped on and broken yesterday as a dose of reality stepped in and squashed my unrealistic ideal of nirvana when it comes to all things Craigslist. Canadian Craigslist has been my beacon for local minutia of what's happening politically, entertainment bent, and just-getting-settled-into a new flat bent.

Why the long face you ask? i-phone woes. My phone won't work here in the great white north without a little technical intervention. I know boo hoo hoo, but wait: the local fido phone I purchased is a complete piece of crap, thank you Motorola.. what I needed: to find a person to jailbreak and unlock my phone, swap out the SIM chip and restore my social life. A bit of elegant technology goes very far when you've danced with a dog like Fido.

Easy enough, Craigslist swarms with tech wannabee entrepreneurs so how did my experience take such a left turn? Unlucky luck of the draw I suppose. My jailbreak jailbait (2o something Uof TO student) arrived looking the part of hacker/slacker, but after three hours of futzing my iphone was still dead and jailbait looked befuddled. Sad but true, Craigslist IT services leave a bit to be desired so perhaps I will head down to Chinatown and find a band-aid solution with a unlocking expert who only speaks Mandarin but has the techno savvy to make things right.

Fear not, I still adore Craigslist. A little reality check is always a good thing and who knows perhaps someone out there wants this Motorola fido phone for free. Craigslist posting IS the only way to go.

Blissed Out

2009-07-08T11:21:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had one of those days when it seems like everyone is in a good place- good manners flow effortlessly, a helping hand is available at the deli counter, smiling happy subway inhabitants who don't push and shove?? Yeah, me neither or at least until yesterday. If this is a trend ( and I certainly hope it is) then my time spent in this fair city on lake Ontario will be a pleasant one.
Of course I have to question why. Is it prozac in the water, the sunshine, the warm summer weather or perhaps a combination of all the above. What I do realize is that inhabitants here in Toronto seem to share a common knowledge of inner peace-even the transit authority drivers of trolleys, subways and trains. Good news abounds as good manners and civility are in fashion here along with dark unwashed denim jeans of a pencil straight variety and did I mention how well it's worn?
Yes that would be the denim but also the kindness and general good natured-ness that seem to abound. Fresh breath of air really. My shopping for rose colored glasses is on hold as I bask in the glow of my new found love...this town. So what's a little garbage on the street? At least it's not like my old love, San Francisco where people use the street and service elevators, Muni train stations and just about anything with a corner as a place to piss.
Just a heads up- I'm trying on this nice thing for size, so we'll see how it fits in a few days but so far I like the "Just be Nice" agenda and may adopt it as my own. Boring, I know. The dark pencil slim denim I shall leave to the <25 age demographic.

Sweet Smell Of Summer

2009-07-06T20:56:00.000-04:00

Hey...what's that smell? Piles of trash adorn the cityside here in Toronto. The city workers are on day number 15 of a strike. So imagine as a welcome beacon to this fine city...an aroma greeting you. Not a nice summer time freshly -cut- grass smell but something all together different. Huge piles of garbage. Nice and befitting welcome really- since all is quaint and pleasant here among the Torontonians. Welcome to the neighborhood! Just what I like to find: political intrigue meets union angst, voila- a sweet municipality mess with a Mayor acting like a primadonna and a union acting well, like a union. Political football anyone? This might be an interesting summer after all.

Save The Extra Vowel

2009-07-05T20:48:00.000-04:00

As a newby to the Canadian scene, it's important to share with the class my fascination of all things foreign. Foreign as the subjectively applied: anything new to me at the moment. Traveling is the easiest way to shake up your world. True, coming to Canada isn't really a shake up as say Azerbaijan might be but hey-traveling with kids and an american passport = pedestrian fun.
Food is the biggest motivator for me when the idea strikes to tally forth into the world. The seek and you shall find mentality always rewards those with enough patience. The hole-in- the wall taqueria in Huatulco, or Pinky-toe crab in the West Indies arriving upon your dinner plate can make up for so very much that goes array when traveling. My current state of mind at the moment is to shun the tedious and tepid seeking instead a twist on the day to day. Safest yet most exciting way to achieve this heightened sense of self while still clothed is the dining experience.
A toast to all things Toronto. The tendency for me to whine about the wine found here may get old quickly but rest assured I promise to keep that in check. My bigger concern, will be toning down the teasing when it comes to the grammatical anatomy of the english language here in Canada. Just between us girls: Harbour really doesn't benefit from the added U, nor does center deserve the added e on the end. Picking my battles here will be fun, pedestrian but fun. Kinda like how I find Canada thus far.