Merry Christmas Everyone.

xo
anm

Help! I'm Alive.

Saturday afternoon.

It's one of those days after one of those nights. You fell asleep on the couch after canceling 3 different sets of Friday night plans and one Saturday morning breakfast date. You slept on the couch until 7:45am. You woke up to hungry cats, fed them, and finally made it into bed at 8 in the morning. The week was one of those that brought you, each morning, into thoughts of sleeping. Just sleeping. And so the week is over and you sleep. I slept.

It is daytime now and I am waiting for more coffee to brew and I am psyching myself up to be a better person in the midst of a weird new life. Life throwing up all over everything is nothing new -- life has always been as much hard as easy. I don't want to be this way - hesitant to make plans with fear that I will only break them.

I feel that my sadness of the last few weeks is subsiding. I am fighting (always fighting) the urge to disappear but between the fits I am feeling a calm looking-forward creeping in. The next little while is Christmastime, which means very little to me this year, but what means a lot is the presence of people who are usually not around. Seeing missed people. I have 10 days off from work starting on Wednesday so I can just lay on the floor all day and listen to piano music or drink pots of coffee or make art or be a kid with the kids or whatever.

I'm still not cooking but I am getting every day more interested in maybe cooking again. I made cornbread at work yesterday and someone said to me as they walked through the kitchen "Wow! That is so beautiful! You take such pride in your work" and I said "Thanks." but I thought "Do I? DO I?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?" and later I went and cried in the storage room for 5 minutes. All I want is to want to cook and to be able to cook again. I feel so disabled. I hate it when things feel so robotic, like I am "going through the motions." Just shoot me.

I promise that this blog will be more interesting sooner than later. I promise. Help me get back into the kitchen and get my life back! Request something to make and I will make it and make a video and post it! Goals!

xo
anm

Who is the Jackie who commented today? Just wonderin'.

Could you e-mail me, whoever you are?
anj_seveneleven@hotmail.com

Or leave another comment letting me know.

Thanks.
anm

They took my mother's stomach out about six months ago. At that point, there wasn't a lot left to remove -- they had already taken out {I would use the medical terms here if I knew them} the rest of it about a year before. The tied the {something} to the {something}, hoped that they had removed the offending portion, and set her on a schedule of chemotherapy. But of course they didn't get it all. They had left some of it and it had grown, it had come back, it had laid eggs, was stowed away, was stuck to the side of the spaceship. She had seemed good for a while, had done the chemo, had gotten the wigs, and then the hair had grown back -- darker, more brittle. But six months later she began to have pain again -- Was it indigestion? It could just be indigestion, of course, the burping and the pain, the leaning over the kitchen table and dinner; people have indigestion; people take Tums; Hey Mom, should I get some Tums? -- but when she went in again, and they had "'opened her up" -- a phrase they used -- and had looked inside, it was staring out at them, at the doctors, like a thousand writhing worms under a rock, swarming, shimmering, wet and oily -- Good God! -- or maybe not like worms but like a million little podules, each a tiny city of cancer, each with an unruly, sprawling, environmentally careless citizenry with no zoning laws whatsoever. When the doctors opened her up , and there was suddenly light thrown upon the world of cancer-podules, they were annoyed at the disturbance, and defiant. Turn off. The fucking. Light. They glared at the doctor, each podule, though a city onto itself, having one single eye, one blind evil eye in the middle, which stared imperiously, as only a blind eye can do, out at the doctor. Go. The. Fuck. Away. The doctors did what they could, took the whole stomach out, connected what was left, this part to that, and sewed her back up, leaving the city as it is, the colonists to their manifest destiny, their fossil fuels, their strip malls and suburban sprawl, and replaced the stomach with a tube and a portable external IV bag. It's kind of cute, the IV bag. She used to carry it with her, in a gray backpack -- it's futuristic-looking, like a synthetic ice pack crossed with those liquid food pouches engineered for space travel. We have a name for it. We call it "the bag."

Excerpt taken without permission from A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.
Dave Eggers.

Girl, Disrupted.

Are you leaving for the country?

You say the city brings you down...

"On this day, though, she was not feeling hopeful. There’s a parasite eating my brain, she said. I’m dull, dumb, mindless.

The one thing I can say is, I believe you. I believe you used to be smarter, and your brain worked better.

It took you eight years to feel your brain was intact, didn’t it? the patient asked with longing.

For me, it wasn’t memory, but getting my brain to feel right. The doctors said,

‘You should get used to this as your new normal,’ but I never did.

It was always alienating when people said, ‘Oh, that’s just bipolar illness talking.’ No, hello — that’s me."

I don't really know how to write anymore, it seems. I've sat down to write a number of times recently, producing nothing but a worn out delete key on our keyboard. Writers block? I don't think that I am suffering from bipolar disorder, but the above quote jumped out at me. I feel like my brain is broken. I don't know if it has to do with my dad's diagnosis, or the challenges surrounding my job, or the on-set of winter, or the anniversary of Scott's dad's death, or what.

The above quote is from an article in the New York Times about the connections being made between an abrupt halt in creativity and shifts in the lymbic system. The lymbic system is responsible for controlling various functions in the body, including interpreting emotional responses, storing memories, and regulating hormones. Basically the neurologist behind these ideas believes that writer's block can be caused by disruptions in the part of the brain responsible for literary creativity. Disruptions in the lymbic system.

I've been having a lot of trouble computing anything lately. I can't cook, can't communicate, can't write.

anm.

Enders.

Freshly cracked ice cold bottle of Red Stripe at my side, our last night is Vancouver has arrived. Today is nearly over and we are lasting out the night writing (a), cat chillin' (s) & studying (k). Katie has her last exam tomorrow so we are trying to be as little of a distraction as possible. Scott and I had a date night tonight, spontaneously. In an effort to give K some quiet lone time to study we headed out for dinner to the fantastic Havana, a locally-owned Cuban restaurant. We actually ate there twice today. Troy recomended it the other day so the three of us went for brunch today, and it was so good. I am too tired now to describe it, but the brunch was one of the best meals of my life. And tonight was so different. Sensational. I shopped for half and hour or so with Katie today. We each bought a dress in a store that smelled like Demetra. It was nice.

After dinner we went for a drive through downtown and over the Lions Gate Bridge. It was beautiful, the city lights. This city is so driver friendly. Scott has navigated the city with ease and it has made for a different sort of trip, not having to entirely depend on public transit.

That's all I really feel like writing about right now. I am going to resume my position laying with Falafel on the couch.



xoxo
anm

Permanent Vacation

We wake late, but really there is no 'late' - we wake when we don't feel like sleeping anymore. We eat Corn Flakes with sugar and watch cable television and drink coffee into the afternoon. Family Feud, Ready or Not, The Simpsons, The Office, The NHL, the news. We play with Falafel and make dinner plans and then change them. We crack a beer or two and walk around the city. We eat candy.

I've said it a few times in the last week, and I will write it here now: this is the best vacation I can ever remember having. I have never so successfully done nothing, and it feels good. The time away started on a very shaky foot. By now most if you know that my Dad has been diagnosed with colon cancer. I didn't like leaving home. But I've talked to him a couple of times, I've talked to my mom some, Skyped with my sister a handful of times, and at this point I have been assured that my absence is fine and so it is okay. It will be good to go home and see Dad and hang out, but for now this is okay.

We've loved exploring Katie's neighborhood, Mount Pleasant, it is so perfect and I would live here in a millisecond if it weren't for my family at home. We have had 6 days of pure sunshine, with more on the way. The temperatures have been getting progressively cooler, we arrived on an afternoon with a +10 high, and tomorrow it calls for a high of -2, but still sunny. I need the sun right now.

A CN Rail car exploded on the railroad this morning, so our train home was canceled. Sort of a bummer at first, but it has turned into us staying here for 3 extra days with a refund for our train expenses more than covering our flight home on Wednesday, one day later than originally planned. And, coincidence, we get to fly home with Katie and Falafel now. Party.



xo
anm

Train of Thought.

We are back on the rails again, this time headed West. Currently we are heading through the western half of Alberta, somewhere between Edmonton and Jasper. Outside the window there is snow, lots and lots of snow, and it finally feels like December. The sun is abundant and reflects off of every icy surface triumphantly. It is almost 11am. We should hit the mountains in the early afternoon.

This journey started yesterday at noon. I boarded with a reluctant and cumbersome heart, having found out the evening prior that my Dad is sick. As I boarded the train he began a grueling schedule of tests. Between yesterday morning and tomorrow afternoon he will have experienced every medical test I have ever heard of. And what will they find. We all know what they are looking for.

I didn't want to leave home.

As David drove us to the train station yesterday morning he asked me the first thing I would do once I sat down on the train. He knows how much I love the sanctuary of the train. I wasn't sure though, what I would do. So I said that I would probably do nothing. I would probably just sit there. Oh, and I was planning on calling my mom before we left. What happened in actuality, David, was I called my mom while we were waiting to board. She sounded grave and she had no good news from the morning of tests. She told me that Dad prayed for a safe trip for us, and that he was excited for us. She told me that Dad wanted us to try to not think about what is happening, how they are preparing for surgery. So when I did sit down on the train I looked out the window and I just started to cry. I think it was because the Via employees kept shuffling us around. I just wanted to be alone so badly and then they'd be like can you go sit over there instead and then I got re-settled and then they asked us to move a second time and in doing so I just felt it all coming up -- my eyes squinting, my throat tightening, my clenched jaw. I just really wanted to tell them to fuck right off, but as that surge of anger - about everything - passed, I sat down and it just started and then I couldn't really stop. The train rolled right past my mom and dad's road and I think I left my heart there for the time being. I know I couldn't really do anything if I stayed home, but at least I could sit with my mom. Make them some nice meals and just relax. That's what I should be doing, I think, in a way. But he told me to go, so I went.

The train is full of weird, weird people. It is an extremely different energy that the train to Toronto. There is one man, who has been coined German Jesus. He is from Germany, but has been traveling for months. He told us that he was in South America. He came up through the States, Southwest corner to the North East. He got beat up by some American border guards in Maine (?) apparently. He has written an essay about the encounter, which supposedly took place on Nov 11th. He is circulating the essay around the train, he also hands out candy to people. I don't take candy from strangers. Anyways, he is getting off at Jasper and then taking the train north to Prince Rupert and then he is taking a barge to Victoria...I don't know what he's doing after that. When I was crying yesterday morning he sat in the one seat with a vantage point and watched me for a few minutes and then told me that there was someone looking out for me. Thanks pal, please go away. He wears Birkenstocks with no socks and his feet smell.

German Jesus has taken up with the other certified bananas passenger who everyone has started calling Old Prospector. He sits up in the dome car with his huge navy suitcase full of papers. He has some scraps of ginger hair topped off with a matted blond toupee. He speaks at a yelling volume and claims to be the president, CEO & CFO of a multi-billion dollar American company. He is worried that we are behind schedule (we're not) and that if the train doesn't hurry up he will have to call his personal helicopter to get him to him International shareholders meeting on time. He yells out things like "Facebook is up 30%!" and muses about Bill Gates' mistakes. He also says things to the Via staff (who are keeping a very close eye on him) like "You should work for my company with your fantastic customer service!!" and you can't tell if he is being sarcastic. At one point while Scott and I were up in the dome car the Prospector and German Jesus were sitting together and as GJ showed Old Prospector his essay the old man asked "What is this word?" to which GJ replies "Reality" and OP said, surprised "I've never seen that word!" It sort of feels like they could almost be a part of a Sasha Baron Coen-scale prank. But there are no cameras, so...?

Yesterday evening, just as we were getting our Scrabble game under way in the dome car, we met Steve and Chris. Steve and Chris are two 18-year olds from Oakville, Ontario. They are headed to the Okanagan for some snowboarding and hot-tubbing. They spent almost $30 on beers in the half an hour or so that we chatted with them. They told us about the 2-hour stop-over they had in Winnipeg, and how they had walked around the Forks and been really impressed by the skate park. They told us about all the things they collectively hate about Ontario. Here's a few other things we learned about Steve & Chris:
-- Steve's clutch on his '95 Eagle Talon is burned out because of his fat friend Paul (his words)
-- Chris' Ford Windstar runs poorly but fits lots of people. He took the middle seats out.
-- Oakville has nothing for teenaged people to do, but has lots of nice trees.
-- People in Oakville are obsessed with money and showing off. Everyone has either a Porsche, Jag or 5-series Beamer. Steve says they are so easy to come by that they have lost all of their allure.
-- Steve likes Dead Prez but Chris doesn't. He likes CCR.
-- Chris didn't know about roaming charges on his phone. He is going to give the "cell phone people" a piece of his mind if he has lots of roaming charges.
-- All the clothing stores in Oakville are too expensive.
-- There is no movie theatre in Oakville. They have to take the Go Train to Burlington or Mississauga if they want to see a movie.
-- Steve thought it was totally crazy that I pulled 4 R's out of the Scrabble bag at once. (I thought it was pretty bonkers, too)
-- Chris refers to drinking a beer as "crushing one".

As we left the dome car to get some sleep Steve and Chris were busy taking funny pictures together on Photobooth on Steve's Mac. Precious.

Tonight we're going to have a train meal, watch more Bored to Death, and hopefully pull of drinking a glass of wine or two...hard to believe that we're more than half way...

6:45pm Pacific Time
The train is quiet now, after a busy afternoon. We picked up a few dozen British and American tourists in Edmonton who rode with us through the morning, to Jasper. Women and men armed with digital cameras and expectation. As we approached the mountains the dome car filled and cameras spontaneously were lifted blindly into the air. I know that this will make me seem like a gargantuan photo snob, but the joy of the latest in digital photo technology is the large display screens on the cameras, which allow you to see the photos that your neighbors are taking. And man, I feel sorry for all the folks at home who will sit in their Alabama living rooms forced to see these photo journals. I'm pretty sure Scott and I made it into more than one.

The British folks were an absolute joy, seriously they put on a workshop in cheering up without even trying. The dry sense of humor. We sat in the dome car in the afternoon sunlight carving through mountains, listening to Old Prospector tell anyone in earshot (ie. everyone) about his life as a physicist. How he met Jesus. How Jesus went into his head and told him things. About his travels in China, how in China they eat everything that moves, and Scott's favorite, his theory about the black hole that is about to swallow up Earth. The smirks and looks traveled from one person to the next and before I knew it, everyone was laughing. It was contagious. Thankfully he didn't catch on, which was good. No one was laughing at him, exactly, but you just couldn't help from laughing at these claims...it got better and better. The middle-aged woman (who looked the way I imagine Princess Diana would look like now, if she were still alive) sitting in front of me broke the camels back for me. She kept shushing her husband (who was in tears laughing) but the more she shushed him the harder it was becoming for her to not laugh herself...just seeing how hard a time he was having trying to stop. When she broke, I broke. It was a moment of collective, spontaneous joy and it was a tremendous thing to experience.

We arrived in Jasper in the early afternoon, pleasantly surprised to discover that we had a two hour stop. We walked around, neither of us having ever seen the town. The sun was warm and very bright. We found a little pub filled to the brim with taxidermied mounted animal heads, televisions and NHL memorabilia. We shared some nachos and Pepsi and then made our way outside to walk around some more, each with a can of wine. We each bought a pair of mitts as our hands were way cold and we didn't bring any mitts. We parted ways with German Jesus, who we found out is actually Swiss. Before he left he came over and told me that it was great to see me laughing (earlier in the dome car - he was a part of the laughing). Yes, I made it to laughing from crying in 24 short hours. You will be okay, he said. With that we shook hands and I won't ever see him again.

We took two spots in the first sitting for dinner and sat with a brother and sister, John and Marnie from Ottawa. 20 and 22, respectively. Their mom bought them this trip for Christmas, meals and all. They are headed to Vancouver to snowboard. She is studying something along the lines of Environmental Science and he is going to school to pull his grades up. He had a B.I.G. t-shirt on.

There is something unforgettable about listening to 'Sunshine' by De La Soul as you fly past sun-fllied forest, the rays only intermittently blazing onto my closed eyes, turning everything pink as the UV passes through the tiny blood vessels in my lids. It is another kind of warmth for me.

And even now, with a full moon above our heads in the clear night sky, we have Grizzly Bear's 'Two Weeks' running through our duel-head phone jack to both of our ears. The moon is astoundingly full and massive. It really is breathtaking.

10:46 Pacific Time
We're arrived at Katie's now and it feels so good to be here. Vancouver is warm and sunny! We found Katie's amazing apartment easily and now we are resting, playing with the cat and catching up. The last leg of the train was great. The train was pretty much empty after Jasper. We slept easily and awoke with just enough time to wash up, collect our things and jump off.

Katie's little kitten, Falafel, is the most perfect welcoming committee. I am pretty sure that there is nothing that Scott would rather do right now than play with her. So that is nice.

Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers.
xo
anm

Mail Call.

The best surprise ever today -- my first package in the mail from Elizabeth Ashton. I sleepily turned the key of our building, dragging my feet after a long day of Food Handler Certificate training with two of the women I am training at work. Everyday as I pass our mailbox I contemplate for a moment whether or not I should even bother opening it. So often just political propaganda, wrongly addressed birthday cards (which we always open), temptation in the form of J.Crew glossiness or, of course, bills. But today it was bursting at the hinges, begging to be opened. So I opened it and there lay the good news with the bad. A past due MTS bill wedged in next the package from Ms. Ashton. I stared at the yellow envelope, my name emblazoned in red permanent marker, for a longish time. This is not the type of event that usually sends my head spinning, but today it did. It was the huge feeling, the unbelievably warm feeling, of being remembered. What a gift.

Thank you Beth, for all of it.

So before I come to your land (two weeks!) here's some documentation of our newly rearranged crib. New season, as per usual, demands new levels of coziness. Come here sometime.


xoxo
anm

Pop Quiz

The other day when I was at my sisters place, hanging out on the front porch, Alex came out with a clipboard, pencil and some paper and she asked me if she could "quiz me", which meant that she could ask me anything she wanted. This is what followed.

Do you have a freind that starts with the letter z? yes

Have you been swimming in a lake? yes
Have you been to a ocean? yes
Do you like pigs? yea
Do you like burger king? sometimes
Do you drink cowsmilk? sometimes
How many frends do you have? few
Have you been to england? NO
Do you have a stuffed animal? yes
Have you been on a Jet? yes
Do you know what Diversity is? yes
Do you like mice? NO
Do you like bikini or bathing suits? bikini
Do you like nature? love
What is your name? aga

xo
anm

Rewind.

Here's the thing.
This blog isn't going to change (that much) after all.
Interesting feedback from the blogworld since I posted about going private, made me think a lot about this whole thing. How it started, why it started and where it has gone. Long story short is that this needs to, and will remain, public. I thought I should close the doors for one single reason, because I was afraid of people from work finding this. I don't know why that scared me, but I guess at the root of it I was concerned that I might write about something I shouldn't and then get caught. Paranoid. I guess I thought that shutting to doors was the only answer, but it was only one answer. One other, more popular, solution -- suggested by a few people, was that I just don't talk about work.

Genius.

So a new era. No work heavies. This will be my reprieve from any and all work related topics. Cool? Cool.

Okay, now that we have that straightened out, let's get down to brass tax. The Jay Z show. Now, I KNOW that there is a contingent of peeps out there who could not care less about Jigga man, but you guys can just chill for a sec. Skip the next few paragraphs or whatever.

For the rest of us. I am about 85% sure that I should be able to upload a video or two from the show tonight (fingers crossed). It doesn't even need to be said that the video really doesn't capture the energy, but at least it is something. I've said it before and I will say it again, I have my reservations when it comes to mainstream concerts, especially rap shows. All the haters out there have a point when they say that a rap show usually consists of one guy on a stage walking around performing with a DJ behind him and that it is boring. Well, 90% of the time it is boring. Because so many people these days think that they are good rappers when they are not. The vast majority of mainstream rappers are just not worth a turd, but hey man, don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. I discovered first hand that Jay Z is a good rapper. He is a better rapper LIVE than on record. I can't say what it is, but there is something about him that is lost on the recordings. It was just a retarded bananas show. He was laid back, humble, on-point like no one I have ever seen, genuinely charming and so sinsur. Man.
He was backed by a full band: horn section, drummer, percussionist, guitars, keys, turntables, back-up singers, and of course hype man Memphis Bleek. He performed every song I had hoped for, plus more: 99 Problems, Dirt off Your Shoulder, So Ambitious (WITH Pharrell), Hard Knock Life, H.O.V.A., Big Pimpin', I Just Wanna Love You (Give it to Me), Heart of the City, Public Service Announcement, along with all the big ones from the new album: Empire State of Mind, Run This Town, Death of Autotune and it went on and on. He rapped for nearly two hours and he did not lose energy at all. Maybe it is just his supreme showmanship, but he had me convinced that he really wanted to be there...that he was really psyched on the crowd. What a man.

JAY Z. Montreal. Oct. 30, 2009. Intro + Run This Town. from Andrea McLaren on Vimeo.

JAY Z. Montreal. Oct 30, 2009. Death of Autotune. from Andrea McLaren on Vimeo.

In other news, and in an effort to wrap up the loose ends in my brain regarding our introductions to both Toronto and Montreal, an excerpt from my final travel-journal entry. A putting to sleep of our escapades...

Planes, Trains & Automatistes.
November 3rd, 2009

Waiting for take-off in an overbooked West Jet 737 headed for Winnipeg and then continuing on to Vancouver. Our final days in Montreal were the most relaxed days of our trip. Yesterday we awoke early and covered miles and miles of concrete, from breakfast in Mile End all the way down to dinner in Old Montreal. Lunch downtown. Seeing Montreal on bikes and on foot has been the way to go, and thankfully yesterday we had a very sunny, warm day for traipsing.

We shopped a bit, but mostly just looked around the whole day through. Montreal is easy on les yeux, from the architecture to the people to the food in the windows. So much food in the windows: charcuterie after boulangerie after patisserie. Also, a city full of dogs, large and small, and we love dogs.

My brain feels like a Riopelle painting in progress, squirrley, spun and hectic.

Memories of Toronto/Montreal 2009

The hoards of people bustling up stairs, around corners, skimming over escalators, bumping, bobbing, weaving, pushing.

The chugging rhythm of the prairie train, the solitude of passing through endless forest.

The squeal of the Toronto subway. The warmth and then insufferable heat of ducking down the stairs and onto the train.

The corner stores in Toronto with their fresh wares sprawling onto the sidewalk. My favorite. Somehow my paranoia about germs is lost in my romanticism of these fruit stands.

The recently fallen chartreuse leaves that covered Montreal.

Not speaking the dominant language for the first time in my life.

The bagels. The perfect bagels. The allongé.

Jay Z

The fast friendship born between Scott and Matt reminiscent of the fast friendship born between Joanne and I years ago.

Walking to get warm bagels in the early morning hours after pints of Montreal beer.

'There's no place like home.'

and

'I made an airplane out of stone, I always did like staying home.'

All in all, I feel that both Toronto and Montreal welcomed us. Both cities had so much to offer and it was good to see some of the options out there, but I am (we are) dying to get home to our empty streets, our sweatpant clad community, our cheap food and cheaper beer, our familiar faces and our sweet cats.

And finally, to leave you, some thoughts on the future of this blog.

Coming soon, an examination of my cookbook collection for those of you interested in the history of such boredom. Ah no, my cookbook shelf is the cure for all depression, apathy and negativity. At least for me. It's worth talking about.


xo
anm

Comme personne d'autre.

I have been fumbling for a while, trying to process the last days here in Montreal. But blog I must because, although I have taken dozens and dozens of photos, I need to remember this in every medium available to me. Yesterday we found a spectacular shwarma joint, recommended by Matt. We dined before the hockey game, reunited with Alex and joined by Brett and John. I thought of Troy the whole time, as he would have frankly shit, the food was to die for. Immaculate shwarma chicken, with a gorgeous gang of accompaniments: this garlicky white sauce that I thought was sour cream and discovered happily, that it was no such thing. Crispy potatoes (not frites), fluffy spiced rice, perfect hummus, vibrant pickled turnips (which were not hard like the ones at Shwarma Time, which was a nice change) and a whopping soft pita to sop it all up.
If you were hoping for a description of the Habs/Leafs game I would recommend that you visit Scott's blog, as I have very few lasting memories as I was terrified for most of the game. I was so happy to be there with Scott, to experience it with him, but man, I had heard Montreal fans were passionate, but hateful, physically aggressive and verbally abusive? I wasn't quite prepared for that "passion". It made me feel sad. The game was amazing, however. Shoot out!
After the game the lot of us met up with Jo & Matt, along with a old friend of Alex and John's and we walked about Montreal on Halloween night trying to guess who was in costume and who wasn't. A few beers later and it was finally to bed. Full.
This morning Scott and I awoke to a (finally) sunny day. We walked to a pâtisserie and a fruit grocer to put together a morning picnic. We ended up with two coffees, fresh apple juice, Quebec yogurt, organic raspberries, croissant, sliced havarti, capicollo and crackers. We ate in a sunny park filled with birds and small dogs. Afterward we met up with Joanne and we cycled to meet Matt at the Biodome. We took in the animals in the dome, the insects at the Insectarium and finally, after sunset, the lantern festival in the botanical gardens.
For dinner we found the astoundingly quaint, but very busy, Patati Patata, for my first poutine ever! We had poutine and two mini burgers each. This was a hole-in-the-wall, but it was perfect, exactly the type of restaurant I would open, if ever I were to open a restaurant.
On our walk home, as we were nearing Jo & Matt's Scott abrubtly stopped, having heard someone call out 'Winnipeg!' and as we turned and looked, sure enough, it was our pal DJ Brace -- the one other person I know who lives in Montreal, getting out of a car. I still can't believe that we ran into him like that, but hey, Peg City sticks together. He lives a couple blocks from where we are staying so tomorrow we're gonna meet up for coffee. Perfect end to a perfect day.

Sufjan Stevens - Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Bach - Suite No. 5 - III: Courante (for cello)
Lhasa - Is Anything Wrong?

xo
anm

Home Away From Home.

Two and a half hours into our train ride away from Toronto, toward Montreal.
This morning we woke early, almost too early, in order to make our train. The Bloor Street subway station nearly ate us alive, but thankfully spit us out just in the nick of time. As we raced to find the train departure gate I thought about Jacquie watching Amazing Race and I also thought about that scene in Home Alone when the McAllister family is racing through the airport.

This train is packed to the gills. We were the last to board and very lucky to find seats not beside each other, but at least across the aisle from each other. Scott and I each have a older woman in the window seat next to us. Scott’s is all business, burgundy nail polish, Mac Book, Globe and Mail, coffee with double cream, Naya water and egg salad on white. Mine is a grandma, age-spotted hands, silk scarf, black coffee, V8, vegetable sandwich. She thinks it is great that I work in the social services. She also thinks that eating healthy is very important and sometimes worries about the obesity we are seeing more and more in children. She is happy that her grandkids are active. She is awesome.

Our last day in Toronto found us at the Royal Ontario Museum. What a place. After sleeping in and another lazy brunch at Aunties & Uncles we spent the afternoon wandering the Museum in the following order:
Dead Sea Scrolls
Vanity Fair Photographs (Leibowitz, finally)
Dinosaurs
Bat Cave
Egypt

The museum is set up beautifully, although it was a little bit to non-linear for Scottie Boy. The scrolls were worth the money, for me, as I have wanted to see them for a long, long time. I also appreciated the brilliant curation of the exhibit, the history, context and inclusion of Judaism, Christianity and Muslim faith traditions and how they relate to the discovery of the scrolls. Hundreds of artifacts from the Roman era were also included, which was pretty cool.

After the museum Scott and I discovered the city a bit on our own, found some very tall beers to go with two steak dinners. We walked around busy downtown, full of people and even break-dancers on the street – my favorite! In the evening I stayed in to get our things reorganized while everyone else went to the pub downstairs to watch some hockey.

Farewell Toronto.

Grizzly Bear – Two Weeks
Fleet Foxes – Tiger Mountian Peasant Song
Bon Iver – Blood Bank
Lhasa – Bells
Tortoise – Crest

Hello Montreal.

We arrived in Montreal hungry, tired and a little bit irritated at being lost, again. Being the inexperienced traveler that I am, I find myself in a perpetual state of wondering where I am and it is not my favorite, but it is consistently providing me with satisfaction at the end of the day, because we have yet to actually become lost. My anxieties have been a constant companion, but it is a good workout for me, mentally, because instead of panicking we find our way.

We found Joanne & Matt's apartment easily. From the Via station we found the Metro station and after riding the orange line we found our bus stop (the bus conveniently waiting for us) and on the bus we got our first peek at Montreal, in the afternoon. I was immediately struck by the leaves. The chartreuse leaves that cover everything. J'aime les feuilles.

Jo & Matt have a gorgeous apartment, and it has a very similar layout to our own, which made it immediately feel of home. We arrived to a dark apartment, letting ourselves in we dropped our bags and promptly fell onto the sofas and fell asleep. We awoke to Matt arriving home from school, showered up and headed out to meet Jo for dinner. This city is so gorgeous. We passed costumed pedestrians as we strolled over the damp leaves. We split up after dinner, Scott and I to the Bell Centre for the Jay-Z show. I can't talk about the show. I will post about it seperately. It was too insane, too amazing. The one thing that I will say, is that Montreal is a fantastic city to see a rap show. Wow. After the show we met up with Jo, Matt, and Brett, who came in from Ottawa to hang out and hang out we did. Matt took us to one of his favorite brewery's and we drank beer, ate nachos and I practiced my francais. I could read pretty much the whole menu! After beer it was time for 3am bagels. And again, there are few words to describe this experience. Scott and Matt rode Bixi bikes back to the apartment, while Jo, Brett and I grabbed a cab, as Brett had some luggage in tow. We went to sleep laughing and slept for 10 hours, praise the Lord. We awoke to an amazing spread for breakfast: bagels, french cheeses, spicy capicollo, tomatoes, fresh pineapple, tea, coffee, real apple juice and we've spent the day in conversation, grazing.

Today it is rainy and windy, but somehow Montreal is still beautiful. Alex arrives this afternoon and tonight we go to the hockey game. Scott has been silent most of today, and I feel it is holy anticipation of what is going to happen tonight. I expect it will be another late night.

Fleet Foxes - Mykonos
Sufjan Stevens - Concerning the UFO Sighting
Erik Satie - Gymnopedie #2
Godard - Berceuse
Isis & Aereogramme - Low Tide

xoxo
anm

Metropolis

Nearly at the end of day two in the big show, Toronto, Canada. I have to say, Toronto has welcomed us with open arms. This city has always been built up at this big, dirty, snobby, good-for-nothing town full of jerks. But guess what? Everyone that we have experienced thus far has been kind, courteous and friendly. The subway is clean (compared to NY, at least) and extremely efficient. The subway system has allowed us to do a precarious amount of shopping in the 36 or so hours we have been here. H&M at Eaton Centre was so berzerker in the sense that is was NOT overwhelming. My previous H&M experiences had been limited to Mall of America and NYC, and those were always terrifiying, madhouse, crazy-making experiences. The 3-STOREY H&M shop that we visited here was busy, but had like 7 banks of change rooms and as many cashier stations, so it was easy. A little too easy. Let's just say that H&M, along with Urban Outfitters and a variety of vintage shops, have been more than kind to us.

This city is ripe with fruit stands, air tinged with smoking meat, commuters who say excuse me (!), cyclists, and people who are willing to chat with you. Today we had a very pleasant chat with the folks at the New Era flagship store about the misconceptions about this city. Yeah, there are definitely some crazy people around, but it wouldn't be an urban metropolis without the leather-shod, Starbucks drinking panhandlers.

I think about my family constantly. It feels very wrong being in as many hip clothing shops as I have been, without Ahnissa and Alex in tow. It would be such fun to scour these shops with them. My mom and dad, brothers and sister are deep in the US of A -- Arizona -- while my nieces and nephews, each with an out-law parent wait at home in Peg City. We are spread out and that is rare. Usually our proximity extends only to McCreary Road and back. Shelby is up in heaven, chilling, keeping a watchful eye on each of us, as we gallivant all over this continent.

I think often of Sean at home with the kids, taking trips to Starbucks, playing Star Wars with Adam, helping Alex organize (& re-organize) her perfect room. I think about Jheng packing up the kids and dogs for a trip to the dog park, about Ahnissa finalizing the details for her Halloween costume. I think about each of those homes and the quiet after the children all sleep and the spouses pine for their mates. It is good to miss and it is good to be missed.

I think endlessly about my dad and brothers, who, while I skim racks and racks of trends, tred into the Grand Canyon amid snow and wind. I pray, with my mom and sister, for their warmth, strength, alertness and joy. I think also of my mom and sister, who wait patiently in the unpredictable Arizona weather. Who peruse shops and dine together and think of me as they pass art shops. (Jacques, I feel about the same way about Navajo art as I do about Inuit art, you got me?) I miss you all.

Alex and Scott have whipped up some incredibly fragrant pizza pies, so I am going to go and eat now. Tomorrow it is Body Worlds at the Ontario Science Centre! And the Ontario Art Museum to see the Dead Sea Scrolls. Shopping is done for now, at least until Montreal.

My sister and I have been keeping in touch during this distance. I have never been more glad for the internet. We send each other a daily photo and this most recent one, of my eldest brother, made me gasp and tears sprung to my eyes. I was not sad, but so, so glad that my family, even as we all age, still values adventure. It is such a precious, life-giving pursuit.



xoxo
anm

Come on Ride the Train.

We’ve been on the train now for maybe 12 hours. I can’t believe how quickly the time is going. There is absolutely no waiting for the coming destination. We boarded the train in darkness, our car dotted with a few sleeping bodies. We were immediately stunned by the differences of train travel: no identification check, no security check, no luggage check. You just walk to your train, hop on, find a seat, any seat, put your bags up top and sit down. After about half an hour, a train employee came by to glance at our tickets and remind us not to plug the toilet by putting paper towel down it and not to walk from car to car without shoes, so as to keep your toes. Simple enough.

Once we felt settled we took a walk about the train cars, checked out the dome car (where I am seated now), the dining car, other passenger cars. We sat in the dark (almost) silence of the dome car and watched the front of the train, lead by its singular high beam, carve through the forests and man-made canyons of eastern Manitoba. We decided to try to get some sleep sometime in the earliest morning hours. Sleep was found easily, and it is true, as Troy said, that the sway of the train with its chugging, grinding hum rocks you to a perfect white-noisy sleep. We awoke to the sound of the dining car manager calling out “last call for breakfast”. I pulled off my eye cover, and my eyes smarted at the brightness of 9:00am, overcast autumn, northern Ontario. Marj’s favorite bright yellow-orange trees mixed with dense Christmas trees and lanky, snow white birch. I looked at Scott and looked back out the window. The train rips along the untouched ground and before you can take in the endless trunks, you whiz above the tree tops, sailing over a rail bridge with a zipping river far below.

We made our way to a hot breakfast, always a little bit wary as we move from car to car. The junctions between cars shimmy and waver. One of my favorite sounds so far is that of the opening and closing of the car door when someone is coming (or going). The dull sounds of metal on metal beneath the train becomes all of the sudden bright and strong, if just for that moment.

We have just entered into a bunch of fallen snow. The tree branches are heavy with it and it makes me believe that we are still somewhere in the northern portion of Ontario. It is painfully gorgeous.

I am missing my family a lot, already, but I think it is because I keep on thinking of how much they would love this, too. The kids especially. There is absolutely a feeling of wonderment that comes along with being carried, safe and warm, through the heart of a snowy forest, and it makes me feel like a kid. It’s reminding me of Narnia. Everything is basic, everything feels uncovered, not exposed, but genuine. As it was, as it will be.

We cannot finish the crossword puzzle you made us, thus far. The following clues have left us stumped: the male anatomy one, the na na na na one, the pop one, the blanket one…we’ll keep you posted. It has provided some major laughs, trust me.

Air – Alone In Kyoto
Areogramme – Exits
Beth Orton – Stars All Seem To Weep
Coldplay – Everything's Not Lost (Ghost Track - Life is For Living)
Eric Satik – Gnossiennes No. 1

We’ve been on the train maybe 21 hours now. We agree that it feels more like 5 or 6, but when you think back to when Scott spilled coffee on that guy this morning, well that feels like quite a while ago. We’ve spent the day napping, walking around, had a game of Scrabble in the dome car, met a nice old lady who is going to visit one of her daughters in Guelf. Poor woman, one daughter in Guelf, one in Victoria and a son in England. Sheesh.

We are riding in darkness once again, as the sun has set. There is a definite eeriness when you look out the window. It is not scary, but just mysterious enough to conjure up imagery from The Assassination of Jesse James. At one point last night our train slowed to a stop while we were sitting in the dome car. All we could see in the blackness outside were the white birch trunks, extending into nothing and the faint glow of the engine car’s headlight. The train began to slowly move in reverse for a while and then stopped again. And then the engine car’s headlight went out and it was dark all around. We got a little nervous, but then, after some time, maybe ten minutes, we heard a loud whooshing sound and before we knew it a freight train came barreling beside us. We watched the colored cars whiz by in a blur and then they were gone, silence resumed and we were slowly on our way, again. The train lines are owned by CN, after all, meaning Via’s passenger cars take a lower priority to the oil, grain, lumber and cars that traverse our country. We’ve had to ‘pull over’ a few times since. No mounted villains emerging from the skeletal forests quite yet.

We made a reservation to have dinner on the train tonight, the last sitting of the evening. We are expecting to be called any minute now. I am hungry, but I also have a fair amount of trepidation, as I have never tried train food before. Everyone keeps reassuring us -- without provocation -- that the food is good. It’s like that saying ‘don’t trust those who ask for trust’, the more people keep telling me the food is good, the more skeptical I become. I can’t think of any reason that it couldn’t be good, they have quite the set up… I love the dining car. It is pure romance, soft light and four tops. A 9:00 meal sounds good to me, followed by wine in the dome car with some card play.

Scott & I have both enjoyed telling the various friendly (inquisitive, geriatric) passengers of the origin of our trip, the generosity of our friends. The realization continues to wash over us: we are here because of them. How did we get so lucky? Riding this train has provided the utmost contentment for me. It is so comfortable! I am never, ever going to want to travel any other way. So much room, no crying babies, friendly staff, it is insane. I love it. We love it. It’s hard to believe that after dinner and drinks it will be off to bed and then sleep will lead us to our destination. Over so quick! We are both very much looking forward to Union Station in the morning, however. I love train stations and I anticipate that we will take some photos and just chill before we hop on the subway to find Alex. AND THEN.

J-Live – Once Upon A Mic
Aesop Rock – Sabbatical With Options
De La Soul – Sunshine
Brown Bag All Stars – Got It All
Jay-Z feat Alicia Keys – Empire State Of Mind [Ft. Alicia Keys]
Mariah Carey – Fantasy



xo
anm

Gone 'til November

It is pushing late night and I am finally sitting down to this thing, it feels like it's been a while.
I've got Grizzly Bear in my ears and it is bringing back familiar feelings. New music bringing back old feelings. I think it is finally sinking in to my brain and soul that I am going on a trip with my husband in a matter of days...There is a lightness in the air, crispy excitement.
The last month, you don't even want to know, has held such a fiery mix of growth, tumult, hopelessness/hopefulness, a tug of war between my naiviety and the realities I am witnessing. I thought I knew highs and lows before this, but no. This has been new heights, new depths. I have never been pushed so swift & far out of my comfort zone, only to be reeled right back into the safe & warm. It has happened over and over, every day.
I don't know if I will be able to find a balance between the highs of teaching people new ways of approaching healthy food with the lows of discovering that those people will not show up because they have been beat up, raped, or killed. Finding a way to get on with life, to push out the words these things happen at first seemed so callous, so insensitive, so unfeeling. I am learning that, in order to help the others, the ones who are still there, I have no choice but to accept that these things do happen and that life does have to keep going on. If life stops in the face of hate, adversity or abuse then the opponent wins. The line between hopelessness and hopefulness has never been more razor thin. I am finding that I have to coach - no, coax myself - over the line numerous times a day. And that is exhausting. It is hard to get used to. A large part of me is trying to reject the negativity all the time.
I think that all of the events of the last 6 weeks have numbed me a little. As a human being, it is hard for me to accept some things about our society, even harder to witness some things, harder still to try to process the feelings that inevitably come with it all and hardest yet to figure out what it is that I believe, who it is that I need to be, and how to decipher my role in a society like ours.
I think that all of these sorts of thoughts have prevented me from being able to fully realize that I am about to go on vacation. As the thought is beginning to thaw and melt over my brain, I am lighter and lighter. Not because I am running away from big, bad Winnipeg with all of its problems, but because I need a break. I need to sit on the train for one night + one day + one night and doze and then look out the window and then read and then talk and then eat and then fade away listening to music and then daydream and then look out the window and then do nothing, nothing, nothing and have no one expect a single thing from me. It is coming. Choo-choo.
AND THEN we will see friends and walk about and eat at a family run Korean barbecue place on the corner with tasty pork that has secret ingredients that have been passed on from generation to generation. And see Jay-Z.

xo
anm

W.H. Auden

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'

'O stand, stand at the window
  As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
  With your crooked heart.'

Quite the photo

Taken from The Sartorialist

xo anm

Thanksgiving Thought Train

Winter tires
Steak frites
Catering, the return
Cream cheese icing
Sore ovaries
Getting a dog
Killing plants
Fatboy < Cheeseburger
Meg
Grant Achatz
Montreal trip
Quad
Miso Glazed Salmon - Roasted Beets & Carrots - Smashed Yams - Carrot Cake
Chin-up bar
Glee > Gossip Girl
Punctured Lung
Manitoba Housing
Apples to Apples
Julia Child
Dutch Oven
Snow
Mafia Wars

xo
anm

Sadness + Anger

If you read this blog regularly, you will recognize that I like to keep things pretty positive. I am a glass-half-full sort of person, and I try to practice gratitude daily, this blog being a tangible way to ruminate on the gorgeousness that life can be, the joy that life can bring. I share positivity in an effort to bring hope to other people, to encourage people to also practice gratitude, as I feel that thankfulness can be contagious.

I am prefacing today's post in this manner to remind myself that life is full, that life is beautiful, even today -- a day of heartbreak. A day that feels broken. I don't usually share the darker side of my existence, because it doesn't flow out of me easily, but today is different. My brain is so unable to compute what has happened, that the emotions and confusion are rabidly pouring all over my life, and therefore into this, my cyber journal.

I went to work this morning to discover that one of my Breakfast Club participants, the one whom I showed how to use the washing machine, the one who I stood beside on Friday and taught how to scramble eggs, the one who just completed eye surgery successfully, and was seeing clearly for the first time, the one whose goal was to study theology at university -- was dead.

We cooked eggs on Friday morning and he was found on Monday night.

I was warned going into this job that people come and go. You get emotionally attached, whether you want to or not, to the people, because you care about them. You are teaching them and they are teaching you, as you learn from each other a reciprocal bond is born, because we are human and not animatronic. I was told that people will show up for weeks and then disappear, choosing to binge out, disengage or find other resources. I was told that people get arrested sometimes, and some go to jail. This was all pretty okay with me, as I believe I have some grasp on the reality that criminals, drug addicts and the disenfranchised like to eat, too, and that is as much their right as mine. I like food, and I like people.

Somehow, one month in, it hadn't occurred to me that someone might die. That some gentle soul would be killed in his St. Regis hotel room. I am not so naive to believe that I knew every little thing about this man, having known him for little less than a month. I know that he suffered greatly, even into his 60th year with the horrific memories of his experiences in our provinces residential schools. I know that he was kind, and always helpful. He was eager to learn, and full of hope. Although you could see that his life had worn him down at times, it was etched in his face and hands, there was light in his eyes and a welcome softness in his voice. I couldn't think of why someone would break into his room and kill him.

I told Scott of this over my lunch break at the Nook. Scott remembered Edward from his time working at Agape Table and spoke of his endless kindness. He told me that during his time working at Agape Edward had received his payment from the government for enduring the treatment of a residential school. It was rumored that Edward has gotten up to $90, 000 -- the federal governments feeble attempt to apologize for facilitating the abuses that left him completely incapable of handling such a large lump sum of money. After that, Scott told me, Edward was rarely alone, followed constantly by a hungry pack of vultures, looking to take advantage of the money, of the man.

I cried into the stiff napkins that made a bed for my cutlery as it dawned on me that someone maybe killed Edward for his money. I cried hard and the sound of my crying was graciously drowned out by the noise of the diner. I checked the local paper, later, and the article that this morning had called the death 'mysterious', was now officially calling it a homicide. I cried the whole walk home, not necessarily for Edward anymore, but for the brokenness that exists in our world. I am being exposed to so much injustice at this job, it is threatening to break me.

I believe that I am in this job for a reason, and I know that I have been lead here. Today I am still as grateful as ever for the opportunity I have, but hope will have to wait until tomorrow. Today I am fucking angry at all of the people in our world who treat the homeless, the poor, the addicts and the people with mental health issues like they are not people. I am fucking angry at the people in our world who do not recognize their privilege. These people who think it is their right to have a warm home and a full fridge because they are able to work and take care of themselves. It is not your right more than it is anyone else's.

That's enough.

With heaviness,
anm