Nostalgia on Tape

The CD player is on the fritz upstairs, so I had to revert to a cassette tape to provide my entertainment while showering and preening this morning. I found one old one from undergrad (yup, the iPod had started its brilliant marketing campaign by this time but I was still lugging around a SONY portable tape player- gigantic, plastic and yellow), and it was called "Gym tape". The "gym tape" is usually the mecca of garbage pop music popular at the time (basing that on my girlfriends' "running" playlists or "workout"playlists at least). Anyway, I had high hopes for an amusing set of songs.

But nope, apparently I used to work out to such gems of artists like NIN, Soul Coughing, Propellerheads, and One Inch Punch. In fact, I am embarrassed to say (in more ways than one) the only mildly pop-like song on the entire cassette is....Beyonce's HipHopStar. So that dates the tape at least - her album came out in 2003. Coulda fooled me, I still listen to nearly everything on that tape every once and awhile.

Oohhhh, daft punk just came on.

House 95% complete

So one year from the pouring of the foundation footings, we held our house-warming party. This blog has documented the progression from foundation to frame to insulation, drywall, paint and every bump in between. The house is the result of alot of love and work from our friends and family, and I think it shows through. It is a lovely place to come home to and I'm very proud of it :)

Dining room


Living room (with fireplace I just stained last week)


Stairwell and TV corner, with the berber carpet I love. We choose carpet because it was the less expensive option, but it brings a needed warmth to the area & I would choose it again given the option. I love sitting on the winders.


Accent chairs I re-upholstered myself (I spent $30 for the fabric but only $20 for both chairs. Ha.)


Entry, with pastel prints from Ghana.


Maybe my favorite room in the house: Office with reading corner




Family bathroom


Family bathroom


House-warming party carnage.

NS Report Card - "F"

Lots of people complain about the weather around here. It is November on the East Coast, and as per tradition, I have been saying for a few weeks now what weird and unseasonably warm weather we've been having; several days reaching temperatures in the double digits (November 7, 8 and 9 all had daily highs of 14C here in the city). Last Saturday and Sunday found us battling sheets of rain, whipping around in hurricane-strength winds (120 km/hour in some spots). The high wind + cold rain continued for a few days, but as of yesterday morning, the weather station on the local radio was calling for a stop to precipitation by noon. All this to say that since it was 14C not too long ago, and the weather reports were calling for no precipitation, there was no preparation for the freaking blizzard that tore through here yesterday.

This will be my third winter here in Nova Scotia, and by a mind-boggingly moronic combination of unreliable weather forecasts, unprepared municipal workers (in particular salt trucks and snow plows) and a private-run power company that favors executive bonuses over maintenance, this is the second time the city has come to a complete halt at the sign of five inches of blowing snow. FIVE INCHES! That's fucking nothing. In Hometown, we have had storms that cover our first floor entrances entirely so that upon opening your door, you are met with a wall of packed snow. (I have a picture somewhere, I'll dig it out once I get home). We knew it was coming, we prepared with food and candles, and stayed the fuck off the roads. Oh, and we had a provincially-run power company that keeps their shit together instead of blaming salt spray or raccoons for crumbling infrastructure.

A blizzard out of nowhere means people were leaving work all at the same time (instead of trickling out of downtown cores slowly), clogging (or entirely blocking) highways with cars moving 50 km/hour. (because why get winter tires yet?? It was 14C ten days ago!!) People stranded on the Cobequid Pass all night in cold cars because no one bothered to salt the hills (or plow the snow) in advance and it became an impasse containing over one thousand vehicles. I presume in an attempt to save money. School closures and power outages all over the city, as is the norm since the privately owned Nova Scotia Power Company took control of supplying electricity to the residents of NS in the mid-nineties. They run it so well, dontcha know. The poor in this city must pay for increased service rates (around 10% per year the last few years) as well as over-inflated executive earnings (estimated at 41% above industry standards) while dealing with lost service every time the wind picks up.

So last night was interesting, as it was my first time 1) driving home on our snowy, slippery rural road in the dark. At least it looked peaceful. 2) arriving to an electricity-free home, previously functioning on a well and pump. ie no running water & no flushing toilets. Luckily husband is somewhat used to the procedure, as he grew up in the country, but he started out with "but when we were expecting a storm, mom would always fill water bottles and pots on the stove..." Expecting, eh?? That would be nice, you know, to be warned ahead of time. But apparently in Nova Scotia, storms develop instantly and without warning. So you are shit out of luck when the power goes out. Literally.

Une Bague Come Toi

Months ago I rode the elevator at work with a Francophone family; mother, father, and three boys (guesstimated age: 11, 8, 5). The middle boy was telling a story in astoundingly good french, I followed them all the way out the lobby and down the exterior stairs and he just kept going and going...for the family, barely paying attention, his antics were well-worn. But I was enthralled, because he was so darn cute! Not unlike this miniature story-teller.


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Add your own!

(My sister once told me as a teenager that my music selection made her want to jump out a window. Huzzah!)

As if it grows on Trees

I got those geek-chic red glasses ages ago and I LOVE them so much. For under $40 Canadian, I got an awesome pair of prescription glasses. And then on Monday I got an email from the same company promoting a two-for-one sale. I. cannot. resist.

Palin glasses here I come (goddamit!)



And for the free pair?




Now I will have a plastic pair, a rimless pair and a metal framed pair of prescription glasses to choose from. All for $120 dollars. Oh La!

Oh Mama, give me your sympathy!
Surely you are the only one who would excuse such stupidity...



That angry red welt up there is a burn I acquired when trying to lift a tray of boiling water out of the autoclave yesterday. It weighed about ten kilos so I had to prop it against my hip for support. Stupid me didn't realize the sloshing water was about to go right through my flimsy shirt and burn my skin. War wounds baby! Science is ROUGH.

A Fine Frenzy: Faking it through life since the mid 80s

This past weekend we ran into old landlords of ours from back when we lived in the quaint University town where I did my undergrad. We really adore this couple - she works at the only bookstore in town, he the wildlife service. They have kids around our age, and liked to invite us over to their side of the house for tea (we lived in a separate but attached one bedroom apartment). Turns out they purchased a rambling old farm house in an uber-rural area, and are in the process of fixing it up. I admire them so much for taking on that task because they could have easily lived with the status quo. To take on the enormous project of the restoration of an old farm house without a lottery windfall belies a passion I envy.

Their situation got me thinking about how I choose to do the things that I do, especially the perceived risky decisions in life that bring me out of my comfort zone. It ties in closely to a conversation my husband and I had a few weeks ago about selling the house we built over the past year, and moving to a two-room building off the grid somewhere. The most interesting people I have met in my life have, at one time or another, lived off the grid. One of the couples we met through the Landlords raised two small children for five years in a one-room building they maintained in the woods somewhere. They raised chickens and livestock, gardened their veggies, and went into town only once a week for essentials they could not produce themselves. Like, how cool is that? It pulls me very strongly - the idea of self-sustainability and simplicity. Admittedly, there are levels to this idea of off-the-grid living (I would need to have a day job with appropriate wardrobe and a car, so daily trips to the city). The duelling parts of my personality take turns: I LOVE entertaining people in our home, inviting them over for dinner parties where I set the table in matching napkins and dinner plate chargers. The other part of me wants to give away all my crap (like dinner plate chargers) and live in a hobbit house in the side of a hill somewhere. So do we do it? We could certainly try for awhile, and this is the crux: I make many of my decisions based on what I admire in other people, and what they would do in this situation. And the answer is plain: I have already identified the fact that some of the coolest people I've ever known have lived off the grid, therefore I should also, at some point in my life, live off the grid. Basically shaping my identity as an adult based on becoming what I admire most.

Do normal adults make decisions like this? I was unsure of my tattoo because of its permanency but alas every time I saw someone showing off beautiful art on their bodies, I oohh-ed and aahh-ed. I admire those people, I want to be like those people, so I also got a tattoo. When I write it like that, it seems so disingenuous - but honestly, how does one become the type of person one wants to be without first identifying the things that are meaningful to them? In first year undergrad I modeled for a student artist, who made a cast of my entire upper body (naked). When it finally came out among my close friends that yes, indeed, those were my breasts up on display there at the art gallery they couldn't believe it. "Why?" they asked. Because I've always admired people who were free of inhibitions and didn't buy into the bad body image projected by our culture, so it was my attempt at living it. I was not 100% comfortable with it, but it was my attempt at becoming the type of person that was comfortable enough with it. In so doing, I was.

I think.

Am I a big old fake? I can't decide. I don't know if it matters. Who will judge me? Nobody seems to have it figured out perfectly (or if they have, they have yet to share their secrets with me). And until I (or if I ever) change my method of self-examination and action, perhaps I too will be someone's inspiration to live a life outside their comfort zone. To do the daring, even if it feels wobbly.

Revel in the Mediocrity

Gave a talk today. Pretty unprepared. No one seemed to care, and some people patted me on the back. (But some people do that regardless, which actually pisses me off. Praise should be earned, and I don't give it away free. Maybe cheap, but never for free.)

It's interesting stuff, but my graphic-heavy slides (which usually works really well for me because I have a good memory when jogged by visual clues) failed me briskly this morning. I couldn't remember any of the neat stuff and could only remember the redundant, boring stuff. AKA my brains on no sleep and cold medication.

And two boys were snickering and whispering in the back, which threw me off my groove. It used to be the older men sleeping in the front aisle that bothered me (not so much anymore - I have since noticed it is not personal) but apparently the younger men laughing at me/my incorrect knowledge/my shitty pronounciation/etc. gets under my skin. Especially when I know I'm not very prepared. Oy vey.

Phew.

True Story

Scene: Trying in vain to find American election coverage on the three Canadian channels we get. No very successful, watching This Hour has 22 Minutes instead.

Me: "I think...I would sleep with Rick Mercer"
Him: eyebrows raised
Me (justifyingly): "You know, it's the humour..."
Him (deadpan):"I don't think I needed to know that about you"

Wrong Holiday my Little Friend

Hmm..my cat and I were sitting at the computer this morning, alone in the house. I heard a funny scratching sound coming from downstairs. Was someone trying to break into our house? My cat, noticing the sound as well, jumped from my lap to investigate. As I slowly descended the stairs, I realized the sound was coming from the fireplace. It sounded like logs were falling down over themselves while burning low...but there was no fire going. So I opened the door and stared into the black eyes of a trapped bird. Shocked, I failed to close the door in time, as the bird flew out toward the patio door. My cat's instinct kicked in, and he went chasing after the bird, but backed off when I yelled at him at the top of my lungs. Luckily the bird flew toward the patio and not up the stairs, but the poor thing got caught up in the sheers. He was fluttering about, repeatedly smacking into the window, and wouldn't come away from the corner. I was able to open the patio door and screen, and then gently coax the startled Starling out with creative use of the curtains. As far as I could tell, his flying was unaffected and he seemed quite well. My cat, on the other hand, was still shaking with excitement ten minutes later.

I wonder how often I'll have to fish birds out of our fireplace? That's not in the manual.