HAPPINESS

I am having trouble remembering what happiness feels like, so I asked a good friend at lunch today to remind me. She did a beautiful job creating a visual for me with heart shaped memories in a magical library of sorts à la J. K. Rowling. Then, being the teacher that she is to her core, she gave me a homework assignment: 

What happiness feels like with the 5 senses. 

Sight. Smell. Hearing. Taste. Touch.

This is what I came up with :

Happiness is beauty. Happiness is order. Happiness is surprise. Happiness is loved ones. Happiness is a good story. Happiness is another language. Happiness is a library full of books. Happiness is my favourite places empty. Happiness is my favourite places being enjoyed, full of people . Happiness is seeing a friend in person. Happiness is art. Happiness is laughter. Happiness is belonging. Happiness is generosity. Happiness is cleverness. Happiness is innocence. Happiness is wisdom. Happiness is health. Happiness is purpose in life. Happiness is movement. Happiness is loving and being loved. Happiness is being understood and being able to understand.

Happiness looks like nature. It looks like the giant granite rocks erratically left in forests and on mountains as the ice age moved on. It’s the green ferns on a backdrop of rust coloured ground from fallen pine needles that feel soft but durable when walked on. It’s the expanse of water at the edges of rivers, lakes and oceans. It’s a glowing pink sunset turning tangerine and lemon as the colours reflect off the ceiling of clouds before disappearing with the sunlight into the grayscale of dusk. It’s a stranger’s baby who smiles at you while their parents are busy across the room. It’s the beauty of paintings in an exhibit you wanted to see.  It’s the geometry of a repeating shapes in a Chinese garden. It’s the grandeur of an art deco building lobby. It’s the awe of stepping into a church nave. It’s the variety of stone used in an expensive building. It’s the decor set in the lobby of a hotel. It’s the seasonal changes in the store front window. It’s the carefully put together outfit of the fashion conscious. It’s the inspirational mishmash of a vision board. It’s the aesthetic genius of a new book cover. It’s the twinkle lights that light up the living room when the sun has set.

Happiness smells like baking bread, cinnamon buns, and spun cotton candy. Happiness smells like pumpkin spice coffee in the fall. It’s the neighbour cooking curry. It’s frying garlic, onions and mushrooms when my boyfriend is making supper. It’s fried eggs and toast when my daughter is making breakfast. It’s roasted almonds, vegetables, chicken, peanuts.Happiness smells like a pesto on a hike above the Italian coast. It smells like melted butter on popcorn in a theatre. It smells like cologne in the air. Happiness smells like the rotting leaves in the forest on a cool day. It’s fresh air instead of pollution. It’s air freshener after a good bowel movement. It’s the smell of lilacs in the spring. It’s the smell of sage on a prairie wind. 

Happiness sounds like a purring kitten. It sounds like a playground full of childrens’ voices. It sounds like a baby’s laugh. It’s the eruption of laughter with a friend who knows you from high school. It’s the sound of a loved one opening the door to come home. It’s the sound of teasing from brothers. It’s the cold sound of crunching white snow on a sunny winter day. It’s the swishing sound of leaves as you kick your feet through piles of autumn leaves just like you remember doing as a kid. It’s the crashing waves on the seashore as you walk on the beach. It’s the sound of trickling water that turns into a waterfall as you get closer and then fades away as you get further away. It’s the quiet of your living room on a day when you get to be at home. It’s the sound of the wind whipping around the house in a storm when you are safe and warm. It’s the sound of a catchy song that plays on a good quality speaker. It’s the sound of your favourite band in a concert of a lifetime. It’s the softness of a quilt full of memories.

Happiness tastes like maple syrup poured cold over snow. It tastes like fresh berries in the summer that you picked yourself. It tastes like the richness of a hundred different cheeses on your first visit to France. It tastes like a tomato still warm from the garden. It tastes like buttered corn at a family reunion. It’s a salty pretzel served warm in Central Park. Happiness tastes like a jammy red Cabernet, with a hint of cocoa and vanilla. It tastes like the first bite of your lunch when you are sitting at the mountain summit. It tastes like the richness of a french onion soup covered in melted cheese after downhill skiing for the day. It tastes like an artisanal chocolate that melts on your tongue into flavours that burst with interest and cause you to enjoy the discovery that the chocolate maker described to you in detail with glee. It’s a meal shared with family and savoured over conversation with friends.

Happiness is a cozy room full of people I love and who love me. It feels like the embrace of a loving hug. It’s a kid snuggling up close to you on the couch while you both read a book. It’s the feeling of relaxation that happens with a good massage. It’s the stroke of a loving hand. It’s the squeeze of a partner’s strong grip holding hands. It’s the smooth feel of silk, the rich feel of velvet, the rough tongue of a cat licking you in acceptance, the textured feel of a tree trunk, the cool feel of grass lying spread eagle on a perfect summer day. It’s the softness of your grandmother’s hands. It’s the rocking of a hammock on a warm lazy day. It’s the coldness on your toes that you dip in water off a dock. It’s the squishing of wet sand walking barefoot on the beach.

Happiness is finding a rare flower that only lives for one day. It is also enjoying a plant that you see every day. Happiness is food in season, and from your back yard, and found fresh at the farmer’s market. It is food shared from a friend’s garden. It’s food made by a friend and eaten in good company. It’s losing track of time trying to paint a picture. It’s the feeling after yoga class, limber and relaxed. It’s the euphoria of stopping when you finish a great run. It’s when you get to the top of a mountain and your breath is taken away by the view just as you are starting to catch it again from the climb.

Happiness is as much an act of the mind as it is a feeling. I can be happy without feeling happy, but I do like to feel happy when I believe I am happy. Happiness is hope for a better day because I remember the happiness that I have already known.

HALIFAX FOOD

April 2012 found me in Halifax for the CCFP exams with a stipend instead of a cost

Here were the food options that I made my list:

Fid slow food Paris trained lunch and breakfast 902-422-9162 the courtyard 1569 dresden row
Chives canadian bistro 1537 barring ton st
Jane's on the common
Wooden monkey
Vegetarian heartwood bakery and cafe 11-2000
Two if by sea 1869 upper water st 7:30 to 6 best cafe 2011
Halifax seaport farmers market waterfront pier 20 tues to fri 1-5pm

NORVAL MORRISSEAU

My daughter’s art teacher last year spent a lot of time on the artist Norval Morrisseau. Apparently they were friends, and I really love the end product of a turtle that my daughter painted and brought home at the end of the year.

Cleaning up for the new school year, she gave me the photocopied sheets that she had received this year. I still find it amazing how resistant many teachers are in this day and age of laptops in going paperless. The pages were at least double sided, and contained several of his incredible works of art, but in black and white. It was essentially a copy of the Wikipedia excerpt, with three paintings from the Canadian Art Institute webpage. A wasted ecological opportunity, and a washed out portrayal that is so easy to find online. So, here I am, late at night, poring over the topic, in a mostly futile effort to give the papers a second life before I recycle them. The subject of Norval and his artwork was worth the study.

According to Wikipedia, Norval Morrisseau was born Anishinaabe, on the Sand Point Ojibwe reserve in Ontario. It was an Anishinaabe tradition to be raised by maternal grandparents. His grandfather was a shaman, and his grandmother a devout Catholic. He went to residential school in the 1930s. Another Anishinaabe tradition was to be renamed when dying, to give new energy and save life. At age 19, a medicine-woman gave him the name Copper Thunderbird when he was very sick. He survived. This is the name, using Cree syllabics, with which he signed all his paintings.

He contracted TB, and was sent to a sanatorium in his 20s, where he met his wife, Harriet. They had seven children together. At age 40, he suffered serious burns in a hotel fire in Vancouver. The following year, he was arrested and imprisoned for « drunk and disorderly behaviour », where he was assigned an extra cell for an art studio.

In 1973, he was among a « group of seven: » artists that Daphne Odjig organized to meet in her home, where they founded the « Professional National Indian Artists Incorporation » in 1973, showing first as a group at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG) called Treaty Numbers 23, 287, 117 (a collective of their nations treaty numbers). The group also included Jackson Beardy, Alex Janvier, Eddy Cobiness, Carl Ray, and Joe Sanchez (in Canada at the time to dodge the draft).

He was self-taught. His early work resembled the petroglyphs of the Great Lakes region, and gave rise to a style now referred to as Woodland. He was initially advised to stick to earth-tone colours by early advocate and anthropologist Selwyn Dewdney, but, fortunately, he evolved to his most recognizable style of colours that became brighter over time, with characteristic black outlines. His subject matter covered a variety of themes, from Christian to mystical, from erotic to political.

He was introduced to a Toronto art dealer who, remarkably did not drive, so he had to be driven by Morrisseau’s friend Susan Ross to see his work. He was commissioned for a mural at Expo 67 in the « Indians of Canada Pavilion ». He was made a member of the Order of Canada, and the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts. He make cover art for Bruce Cockburn, and his exhibitions were international and included Rideau Hall and the McMichael. 

The later part of his life was spent with declining health from Parkinson’s disease, and in battles to keep fake and forgeries out of the market. He established the Norval Morrisseau Heritage Society in an attempt to compile a database in order to discredit forgeries. His estate continues this fight today.

After his death, a 2019 documentary « There Are No Fakes » came out on this subject, and Ontario Superior and Appeal court ruled that the Maslak-McLeod Gallery acted fraudulently in manufacturing and selling fake Morrisseau paintings.

Notable works:

Androgyny ?Rideau Hall

Artist and Shaman between Two Worlds ( National Gallery of Canada:NGC)

Observations of the Astral World (NGC)

Indian Jesus Christ

The Storyteller

Man Changing Into Thunderbird

I cannot speak to the authenticity of this website, but the video has a number of incredible works, and boasts a large number of authentic vs fake paintings that seem to have a ring of truth. Truly, his art is worth looking for. From the McGill Visible Storage gallery, to the National Gallery of Canada, his work may be nearby. Certainly, there are plenty of beautifully works as an armchair tourist. Keep a look out for poor imitations if you are shopping. If you are painting, try out his style, and see what you can do with the inspiration.

My favourite quote attributed to him, that would resonate with my Princess Pirate:

« My paintings only remind you that you're an Indian
Inside somewhere, we're all Indians.
So now when I befriend you, I'm trying to get the best Indian,
bring out the Indianness in you to make you think everything is sacred. »

PRIVACY AND POSSESSION

It was a busy weekend, filled with pleasures. A trip to Ottawa with my favourite daughter, to visit a favourite friend and her family, and absorb the wonder of a live performance of Hamilton. A trip to the border, with empty trunk and nervous battery saving for the return required arriveapp with a friend who is good company and needed a ride for her first visit to see her dad and stepmom since the pandemic descended. A walk and supper by the Lake Champlain, with a view of a Juniper Island crowded with evergreens and a layered backdrop of the Adirondack mountains with a warm summer breeze.

 I went to be tired, with windows open and fan blowing to bring in the fresh cooler air that the rainstorm had afforded. I woke up in a  shirt and underwear, and no alarm. When I went to the kitchen to get breakfast, and looked out the living room window while petting Calico, I realized that I felt freer than usual. My neighbour to the direction of both of those rooms’ window, and to the back are not home. One is  recovering from illness in the hospital, and unlikely to return given the state of dementia he was living with. The other is on holiday in Europe for a couple of weeks. 

Normally, I am not aware of an restrictions in my house. I feel fortunate (even uncomfortable in being spoiled) with the amount of space and freedom living in the suburbs in a luxurious detached house with some generous yard space surrounding it. But today I see that I feel boxed on equally, and that I would prefer additional private space outside my walls to truly feel the freedom I ideally crave.

My friend in Ottawa had bought a brand new car to replace the old one that was without air conditioner and leaking coolant. She commutes a significant distance for work, and was enjoying the safety and convenience of her new reliable car until the Monday previous, when it was stolen from her drive way. Even worse, she had managed to acquire the car in her preferred red, which was hard to come by in this market, and even harder to replace at this moment. Additionally, she had spend an hour on the phone answering innumerable questions about insurance, only to find out that the replacement cost had not been discussed, and she was not covered as she had reasonable expected for a new car.

What we have, and how we feel we own it, is both a pleasure and a burden. The necessity of something is most easily debated when we do without, or are gifted something unexpectedly. Communal ownership or a detachment from our possessions is critical to our satisfaction. Living simply with few needs, but with enough to answer then, is a tightrope to be walked with care. It is a scale to be balanced. It is a constant tasting, like the three bears, to find the temperate that is “just right”, knowing that it will not last long, and we will have to keep on testing. 

Things fall apart, break down, go away. People and relationships do too. The Newtonian rules of the universe taught me this in high school, but the reality of Einstein’s relativity would come later. The energy is never lost, and it can be used to rebuild, repair, renew in a different form. Life and ownership, friendships, needs and wants, are constantly changing. Our happiness can not depend on any particular form of it, but it is a nice thing to enjoy what we really love while we have it, as long as we are not dependent on it and dissatisfied when we lose it.

LISA COOK

 The study of economics in my life has largely been a post-secondary personal pursuit. My high school teacher gave me the impression that the financial system was increasingly unknowable following the uncoupling of currency and gold. Additionally, our investment into Air Canada (which was, to be fair, only a year long) was a failure, earning less on the sale then we had put it, which hurt in 1989 when a GI was returning 10%. Needless to say, I learn to save, and invest safely, which doesn't help me much in the current market. 

Since then, I have moved from personal budgets to financial planning to investment. I am still learning, so a few years ago, when I happened on a podcast called Planet Money, I began to see that economist have a point of view on far more than money. From my personal viewpoint, they are some of the greatest modern philosophers in the world. They analyze date and come up with solutions. They have insight into almost every system out there, and that is very exciting and comforting!

One such economist has sparked even further interest in her extensive historical research. Her name is Lisa Cook, and her articles are worth reading.The podcast called Patent Racism that introduced her to me was on Planet Money was an analysis of black racism and the impact of black innovation. She found that people's general understanding of the history of black was lacking, and even had to provide that as the basis of her economic study and argument that lynching/violence kills innovation while it's killing victims. It's a pivotal note in history, and a modern day cautionary tale. 

From her work, I was introduced to the lynching of Emmitt Till (and his remarkable mother, in Women of the Movement on Global), the devastation of the Tulsa Race massacre (imagine your neighbourhood razed to the ground), and the Tuskegee report on lynchings (a brutal short history here).

 Racism and lack of diversity kills innovation, and both need to be avoided. The paper that started it all is titled: Violence and Economic Activity  with its abstract.

Here is a talk she gave on Diversity and Innovation. Another on What Promotes Or Kills Innovation?

Here is the blueprint for the present proposed implementation for an Innovation Economy, called the Hamilton Project.

I look forward to follow and aspiring to more Lisa Cook ideas.

THE ORIGIN STORY

My friend asked me last night what has inspired my love of the Chateau Laurier. I would have thought that I was born with an innate love of Fairmont hotels, but I would have been mistaken.

My earliest memory of a Canadian Pacific (CP: now the modern Fairmont) castle-like hotel was a trip that my family took to Banff. It is a memory stitched together with just a few images. Some of my memories may not have been the same year or even in the right place, but there are two things I remember strongly: waking up at least one day in the campground and doubting my dad’s proclamation that we were in the mountains, until the fog finally lifted to reveal the rock face that had been completely obscured in the dark right beside our tent, and the outrageous and hilarious freedom of wearing garbage bags with our arms poked through because of rain, feeling none of the usual embarrassment in knowing that everyone we met was a stranger anyways. 

I have a vague memory of stopping for a hot chocolate in the lobby of the Banff Springs Hotel, but maybe it was just a look in the lobby. I have a picture of the hotel that must have been taken from some height, and looking down into the valley, the hotel was the scale of Neuschwannstein, and resembled the castles that I later knew were as an adult in Europe, with the ruins of Heidelberg found in the fog being a strong memory with no photo. When I moved to Montreal, I am not sure I understood the breadth of the CP hotels that spanned the country. I think that Quebec city’s Chateau Frontenac (CF) may have been my only knowledge of a hotel with the turrets and dramatic rooftops outside of the Rockie Mountains, but I am even unsure of that timeline, and that I would have connected the two spanning such a distance as where I grew up to where I ended up. 

What I do know was that I started a file folder with the bills and room cards for all my Fairmont Hotel stays over the years, and this is the timeline that I am more certain of, although given memory’s unreliability, there is still some artistic license likely to be present.

From my records;

My first Fairmont booking was for a conference in Toronto called the North York Emergency Medicine. It was 2007, and I did not go alone, leaving my then husband and my one year old daughter to their own devices while I spent long days learning. I remember that we took pictures in our bathrobes, and that my daughter was just starting to walk with confidence, using a toddler sized rolling walker and enjoying the enormous carpeted floors of  the lobbies and hallways. The hotel was the Royal York, and I can’t remember if it was this visit, or another in 2009, but we took the train that actually brought us to the train station that still serves the hotel. 

The following year, 2008, we booked a room at the Hotel Frontenac in the summer, and now we full blown chased after the little tyke who ran away if she could! No walker needed!

In 2009, I indulged in a night to celebrate my birthday, staying at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in hometown Montreal, with a view down on my favourite reminder of Rome (Vatican City, actually) that is Mary Queen of the World cathedral, and the incredible Sun Life Building that sits kitty-corner to it. 

The Chateau Laurier was next, during a year that I was developing the intention of becoming a  premier member.  That year was 2011, and there was a midwinter promotion in concert with the Holtz Spa in the nearby Byward market. I went with two friends that I knew from a group of long time friends. At the time I don’t think we had spent any time together by ourselves, but that trip changed things. Both of these women have become very important to me, likely beginning with that stay.  This also is likely to be the start of the idea for the book I am on day three writing. Certainly, CL is the closest Fairmont hotel to me unless I stay in Montreal, so has been the easiest to visit. It has never had the heart stopping increases in price that CF has had, and it is now officially the CP hotel that I have visited the most, thanks to my recent visit there with one of the two women that accompanied me there ten years ago. 

The three characters may have developed on a different timeline, but it is interesting to see the parallel of three women from that visit. I know that two of my original characters were based on others, and not on my travel companions, but even down to the room we had with 3 separate beds and a view to Parliament Hill feels primordial to where my story has evolved from. I also wonder if all my reading of Nancy Drew (ND) and her two best friends could have played a part. I think I may have even added a boyfriend, like Ned, to balance out the estrogen. The Mystery at Chateau Laurier was the original title, which sounds like a ND mystery, and the name stuck until my first NaNoWriMo in 2019, when I started to fill in the characters, but the mystery plot never developed, or was very awkward. 

I started going to the American College of Emergency Physicians (ACEP) conferences beginning in 2011, and travelled to quite a few cities this way. I found the cost of the exchange rate, and the demand in the US cities almost unaffordable, so was not able to consistently stay at a Fairmont. I did enjoy my stay so much in Boston at the Copley Plaza that I returned with my family, this time with a time booked to walk their lobby dog named Caty (pronounced Katey). I remember a little room in San Francisco that was the peak of what I was willing to pay for a night, especially for a room that I was literally only using to sleep in. It was steep in price, but also in real estate, and I when the sting of the cost wore off, I was glad to have stayed truly in the heart of San Fran, even if it was just for a short time. 

I started this blog in 2012 on a spinoff trip as a Rick Steves superfan with an incredible stay at the Fairmont Seattle. Eating alone turned out to heighten each meal that I ate, and certain foods still come up as fond memories. Spanish fig loaf found in a brick at the international section at the grocery store, and several failed attempts to make the breaded cheese croutons that topped a vegetable bisque soup come immediately to mind. The food was accompanied by the luxurious surroundings and a pianist! I can also recommend that fall is a great time for eating out!  

Today I was reminded why I had the idea of a treasure hunt, when I found an envelope from October 26th, 2013 addressed to Princess Pirate, Room 373, and was dotted with pastel coloured and sparkly stickers in the shape of hearts and with happy horse faces . I don’t remember the ruse, but I wrote at the top, I believe addressed to the front desk staff:

BONJOUR. LAISSEZ MOI Á LA RÉCEPTION

The first clue must have been hidden in plain sight in the room, left to be found.

It read:

Good morning, Rebecca! 

Today I have a treasure hunt for you! 

The first clue is waiting for you at the lobby’s front desk, where I checked in. Just ask for a message for room 373. 

Good luck,

Love, 

Mom (smiley face emoji)

The second clue read:

Ask your daddy to help you find Albert Einstein’s photograph. 

Below it is a desk. 

Check the right drawer for your next clue.

P.S. This poodle is for decorating our shoelaces.

The third clue read:

Good job!

You found the next clue! 

(Editor’s note: I am hearing Blue’s Clues in my head now. I think that might have been my inspiration. Unfortunately it may have also been my aspiration. This was not great work, which is why I have had so much trouble making it into an adventure worthy of a novel!)

This place I found when I visited the castle last winter.

I loved it and am so happy to use it’s hiding place today!

Don’t leave the room, but look for a lamp with a stack of books. 

Don’t be afraid to be a detective. 

Be curious - I promise it won’t break!

The fourth clue was the last clue, and it read:

Wow, that was the toughest spot to find. 

Hope you are having fun!

Now it is time to return to your room.

Find the “safest” place and press the numbers of your birthday - month. 

Don’t forget to put 0 (zero) in the tens spot + day. 

(Editor’s note: I think this is confusing, and I don’t remember what the gift was!)

Hope this is a good gift for a princess!

Enjoy your castle!

I have long admired the construct of a murder mysterday, but before binge-watching was a thing, the closest thing we could come to was binging a series of books, which was hard to do given the constant wait required repetitively for the next book in the series to be released to you after putting it on hold. Even then, with authors like Agatha Christie who had long ago finished writing, it seemed like a far-fetched idea to have so many murders around one person, usually in a small space, or in a small town. These eventually transitioned to murder mystery shows, and the sequence of so many victims quickly became too terrible for me to bear. So I have still never read all of Agatha Christie’s books, and I don’t binge watch crime shows for fear of becoming so despondant as to be suicidal. I like the “twist” though, and when I started writing this book in 2019, I thought that I would take inspiration from the idea of a letter, but it turned out not to be a very interesting device for a plot twist. 

I took inspiration at least for the protagonist Stephanie from a Tissot painting that I have loved for a long time that hangs in the National Gallery of Canada called The Letter. It is a medium sized painting set in a beautiful garden. A woman with an elegant black gown and hat from the late 19th century holds a letter in her gloved hands that she is actively shredding. The multiple pieces hang impossibly in the air behind her, as if caught by an updraft. She is surrounded by fallen horsetail chestnuts, so I always imagined the park to be in Paris. She stands on the grass, which is a big no-no in a park in France, and there is only one table behind, so although I had imagined that she was in a public place, maybe she is at her own private residence and the man behind is not a waiter but a footman maybe. I don’t know what is happening, but her face seems confident, making the expression closest to disgust. Maybe she has  been stood up with a letter carrying the excuse? Whatever is happening, she is not devastated, but this is just the beginning of a story in my mind. She is my first truly original character. She is not based on anyone I know. She is her own persona, although I have to admit, she is also the character most like myself!

So there you have it. A story written over two Novembers, from 2019-2021, started a long time ago. The three women characters have been developing on paper and in my mind for along time, and they probably met the Chateau Laurier during a cold a grey fall in 2011. It was not a trip very far away, but that weekend changed my life. It brought me to dear friendship with two extraordinary women, had me fall in love with the architecture and history of the hotel, and started my writing inspiration for the story that continues to challenge me today!

BOOKSTORES ARE A SPECIAL PLACE

 I was at the Farmer's market today, and on the way from my parked car, I saw a used bookstore I had never seen before. Turns out it has been there for 15 years, but I usually park the other way, and never crossed its path. 

Bookstores and libraries have been special places for me for a long time. I have fond memories of a mobile library in front of my elementary school, before the local library in our new development suburb had a building. I remember the local library with endless collections of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew and Asterix and Tintin and how to be a spy book and sign language. I remember a larger library that had rare books of plays that we tried to act out in a puppet theatre made from refrigerator box. It was the first place I read a book that I regretted that there were no ratings for books. There were movies by then, and you could be sure of what you were getting, but if there was sexual aggression in the book, there was no warning on the back cover, and once you read it, you couldn't unread it. Even the church I went to had a small library, so that  in all my growing up years, the only bookstore I remember being in was a Christian bookstore, and then the University bookstore for textbooks.

The first bookstore I remember being in was near Trinity Western University in BC. My ex-boyfriend and I found nothing more fun than browsing through the aged pages of a local bookstore in the sunshine. When I travelled to Europe, the draw for English books was so strong that people gave word of mouth instructions on how instructions on how to find the Shakespeare multi-level bookstore on Unter den Linden in Berlin. 

My favourite bookstore in the West Island of Montreal was just one major street away, and better than the bookstores that were downtown. That didn't stop me from visiting it when I went by, but it gave me such grief when it closed down that I don't think I have visited the other downtown haunts in case they too have closed.

I once knew the son of a wealthy man who inherited a bookstore as his first business venture. I don't know that it was ever sold as a business, but I know the son did other things in IT instead. It always reminded me of a church pastor that deserved to have a bookstore. He loved books more than anyone I have ever met. His house was packed with books. They were stacked up like temporary walls in the living room, around furniture. His wife was a saint in her tolerance of his habits. He was not a hoarder in other ways, but with books, he had as close to a problem as anyone. He would buy them bulk. Once it was a truckload. But he read the books he received. Underlined passages in them. Was inspired by them. Quoted them in sermons. Lent them to friends. He told a story that he would read books on open quiet highways while he drove with his knees, until the day that he hit a piece of lumber on the road, and realized his folly before worse happened. I wish I could rent out a space for this man's personal library, because I know him well enough that it would be a lending library to all.

Even my favourite movie is a romantic comedy set in a New York bookstore. It was adapted from a film set in Budapest that is called Shop Around the Corner. Although it is a Jimmy Stewart black and white film that I have a soft spot for, I prefer the movie that it inspired called You've Got Mail.

SUMMER PARTY FOOD

Both summer birthday parties were a welcome improvement from last year. 

Mine was good food and good friends. 

I had started late, and pushed the start time to get most of my ideas, but not all ready.

I greeted the first guests with two types of sparkling wine from France (and costco). The apple pear was the most obvious, but I liked the apple raspberry the best. With the drinks on the back patio, I had organized individual servings of jalapeño potato chips, beet and sweet potato chips, garden stix, and a toothpick of olives.

When everyone arrived, I served a verrine of Martha Stewart's gazpacho from market vegetables.

Next I tried to make a Pampered Chef warm appetizer gluten free by using rice crackers as the base instead of wonton wrappers. It was a fail, but the recipe called artichoke cups was still tasty enough that none was left behind.

The last item (good thing because my dessert never made it past the halfway stage and no one missed it, or asked for it, anyway) was a vegan"Buddha" bowl with my favourite dressing below.

I had roasted mushrooms, zucchini, sweet potato and red peppers. They look a mess but they taste delicious. I marinated tofu in soya sauce, garlic, ginger, and maple syrup, and pan fried them. Served on a bed of quinoa with pepitas and what I call dragon sauce (1/4 c tahini, 1/4 c nutritional yeast, 1/2 tsp turmeric, 1/2 tsp ground ginger, 1 clove garlic, 2 T maple syrup, 1T vinegar, 4 T water, 1/8 tsp cayenne powder), the main course was a big hit, and far more delicious that it looks! 

Princess Pirate's party was friends, sunshine and one sprinkler. My neighbour texted me that it was so nice to her shouts of laughter after last year's quiet back yard party! 

The cupcakes were Betty Crocker's red velvet, chosen to be nut and soya free. The cream cheese icing that it came was surprisingly good, and the gold sprinkles were a big hit!

 For two Capricorn's with winter birthdays, this year's summer birthdays were a real treat!

A LITANY OF GRIEVANCES

I paid for the wedding (helped out by my parents)
He quit his job the week before the wedding.
I paid for the honeymoon. I would come home from work and he would still be in his underwear in bed, watching tv. Okay weird way to honeymoon, but I had already committed to the work.
I paid off his student and car loans.
When we were dating, he took me out for dinner, bought gifts, went to parties. After we were married, he took me out once, bought gifts with my money, and never went to parties again.
He spent hours a day on the computer, blogged occasionally  but never had anything to say.
I would come home from work, and have to cook and clean and shop and manage our finances.
He never encouraged my daughter to bond with me, and discouraged me, preferring to isolate me from their growing intimacy, in my own house.
Our neighbour joked about how lucky he was, as though he chose to stay home. I thought it was a joke, but in retrospect it was totally a choice, and it harmed me and benefited him.
He didn’t work for 11/13 years.
He spent his time absorbed in himself. He loved photo booth. The last holiday we took together as a family had more selfies of him then pictures of us.
If he needed something, he’d drive straight to the store and get it immediately, driving right by the place I had been asking for weeks for something.
I earned less because I was with him. I spent more time, energy and resources on his career than on my own. I put his needs before mine, which he felt entitled to, but he saw my capability as something to take advantage of.
I paid for his going back to school.
I worked.
He made me feel wholly responsible, insecure, and unheard.
He would offer to "help me out", as though the responsibility was not his but that I should be grateful for his contribution. He never created a shared responsibility. He lived as though he had none, despite marriage, despite fatherhood.
He was unreliable.
He would say no by saying yes and then time would pass and the thread would be lost.
He overpromised and underdelivered.
He earned 1/16th (see above-this was not his potential) what I did but left with half.
Both mediators have told me he is entitled to spousal support but neither have called him out on his free ride.
My financial advisors and bank account managers calculated my retirement predictions and took my management fees, but never once mentioned caution in the biggest financial disaster that would decimate my savings worse than any bull market.
I kept the house and all it’s costs, took out out a loan that I can’t seem to pay off and he has a savings account I filled to buy him out.
Every penny of appreciation in my house was lost when I bought him out, and the law calls this fair.
When he puts her in daycare on the weeks he has her, I am mandated to pay the bill, even if he doesn't inform me, even when it is her birthday and I had planned to have her after school.
We have two cats, that my daughter adores, and he never considered taking care of one, so she would always have company.
He never cut her nails, and let big knots grow in the back of her hair until I had her, and I had to cut it out.
The first months my schedule was already set, so I had her half time minus shift days, when he would take her. He was mystifying, crying unfairness over my having her 13 days to his 17!
When I offered for him to talk to a therapist he said no, but when I told him it was over, he couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t be trusted to pay the bills, incurring late fees, and preferring to leave the budget to me, but when I worked out the split, and was splitting everything in half, he accused me of hoarding money but wouldn’t look over the numbers.
After we first split, he complained that I didn’t let him have the car enough, but he returned it full of dirt after camping, and scratched it on our neighbours car, but never made reparations.
I pay child payments and cut budget costs, and he dates a woman with 2 kids. I don’t think he spends enough on my daugher. I pay her dentist, eyeglasses, school expenses, daycare. He justifies that she lives in his apartment and sees it as her share of the rent.
His parents pick her up from daycare up to 5 days a week because his job goes long, but couldn’t watch her so we could go out on his birthday when I asked.
I bought all the gifts, cooked all the food, paid our way to special events and prioritized his family (mine lives far away), but I was cut off completely when we split.

She adores him, says he’s fun, and can’t wait to talk to him. He can’t pay her bills. How could I not share custody, despite the above?

Since we separated, the things he does validates my decisions.

Today, I am divorced. I have been separated for over four years. I am no longer grieving, and have let most of the anger go. He finally moved all the residual money out of the last shared account (which I advise against having alone, btw), so I have finished paying his way in life for good. I will continue to pay child support to Voldemort until he reaches my salary and Princess Pirate is independent i.e. for a while yet, but my unhappiness is no longer tied to him. A dear friend, also in the process of an inequitable divorce, celebrated with me, as I broke the ugly moldy wedding invitation plate that I hated for 15 years (the spirit and gift was lovely). We opened a Chardonnay Champagne (and lost the cork in her neighbours back yard) and fêted the end of an ordeal, which I needed, after so much loss and regret.



It is done.

INTERNET SEARCHES I HAVE MADE IN THE LAST YEAR

www.ilesaintbernard.com  AIM to visit south shore fauna park
opentable.ca Schnitzels AIM to find perogies in Cornwall, ON
plant based iron rich foods (images) AIM to send to Princess Pirate and broaden her food palate
mydisc.ca Canadian frisbee AIM in search of a disc with recyclable potential when it breaks
bat costume DIY AIM Halloween costume
Lewis Capaldi Someone you Loved AIM to relisten from Songland, heard on the ER radio
compos mentis AIM spelling it right
Trans-Siberian Orchestra AIM 2019 tours
Kismet AIM origin language: Arabic
Ecksand.com AIM ethical jewelry
Le metro Voyage dans le Temps AIM 6 stations: documentary of art and architecture MATV
Limited Palette Unlimited Colour AIM Uncle's most recent project
NaNoWriMo.org AIM prep 101 6 weeks before November
Depot du projet de loi no 43 nursing
mtlblog.com Quebec City is Hosting a Free german Christmas Market This Winter
Piru, CA filming location
darwinproject.ac.uk To Charles Lyell 1 October [1861] "But I am very poorly today and very stupid and hate everybody and everything. One lives only to make blunders."
sillon French groove, as in tree bark
how to connect to a bluetooth keyboard with iPhone
dictionary.com words without rhymes: bulb, angel, month. Orange rhymes with Blorenge and sporange
Yukon ultramarathon
egg drop challenge
project Gutenberg ebook Mill on the Floss (at my optometrist's office), by George Eliot
name-generator.org.uk AIM pen names for Megan Bloggs
mcgill.ca beatty lecture YouTube Jane Goodall convocation speech
bianchinis planisphere
Förena thermal city spa near Montreal
cbc.ca Power of Play:Risky Play
10 amazing hikes near Montreal- Explore Mag
Cevennes National Park, France
reporter.mcgill.ca First Peoples' House
Jordan Law (Murphy's law)
Sapiosexual
Orient Express
Tchaikovsky Eugene Onegin Opera stars husband and wife Dupuis/Car
board site.lbpsb.qc.ca Major School Change MSC 2019-2020
elm tree Tree Musketeers
Dr Ruth Pfau: Google Doodle
Shabanu
slow-cooked rice pudding Ricardo
aldabra giant tortoise
Notre Dame de Paris Placedesarts.com August 2020
mcgill.ca Kinesiology and PE
How to figure out what your bathtub is made of
historicplaces.ca Family Museum Montebello, Qc
mcgill cybersecurity sitcom
Invisible Women - 99 % Invisible
Ios
a priori
carre d'as Final Four (tournament)
Canada Fitness Award Program beginning
J. Robert Lennon
Why Annie Lennox
Legally Blond Scribt at IMSDb
Meewasin valley Authority, Saskatchewan
ASUS C202SA 11.6" Rugged Chromebook
Quarries and Plants polycor Natural stone
symbols of Saskatchewan
Virtual Museum of Canada
Bodybreak
regina.ca
Lilas Torrance Newton
Jim Gaffigan Colonoscopy
The 36 Questions That lead to Love
Alan Bean Art, Astronaut
Ecrabouiller French Squish
Upper Canada Migratory Bird Sanctuary and Campsite
Chris Colfer author The Land of Stories
LBPSB commissioners support proposed lawsuit
Cinnamon Roll Microwave Mug cake
Camping Laurentien, Val-David
Wasted book on alcohol
Joggins Fossil Cliffs, NS
Zoo sauvage de Saint-Felicien
Little Ray's Reptile Zoo
The Great Canadian Chopstick war of 1986 cbc.ca
Parthenon, Tennessee
Superhero Nation: how to write superhero novels
Constellation zodiac symbols
ecocenter.org
new study rates best and worst garden hose
old-fashioned potato candy
Jardins de Quatre-Vents, Charlevoix, Qc
reporter.mcgill.ca AIM Une semaine, une lecture: un été letteraire avec le French side
Horaire des films du Planeterium
s3.amazonaws.co/tc-global-prod/download AIM terracycle GoGo squeeZ
Women's biggest Risk Betty-Ann Heggie
Cegep Andre-Laurendeau
Elite Matchmaking
Sankofa Dance
About The Compassion Machine NFB
astrolabe statue major hill park
iustitia translation
Canada Day Weekend City of Ottawa
IPA transcriptions
RecoVR Mosul
MD Are you taking the right vacations?
yellow swallowtail
Achille Talon bande dessine AIM follow Sophie's lead
Hatchet AIM follow Adle's lead
Aurelie Laflamme AIM follow Sophie's lead
2 be or not 2 be abc.ca
Karl Pilkington An Idiot Abroad, Sick of It
afdc.energy.gov AIM Which is greener: idle, or stop and restart
toybox.tools.bbc.co.uk
Heloise and Abelard: Fated Love in Pere Lachaise
my-luxurious-africansafari-from-canada.com
Maison Saint-Gabriel
publications.mcgill.ca New Institute of Health Sciences Education
margueritebourgeoys.org
high five
tremblant.ca lodging
Caesars' Campaign agains the Helvetii
Fluevog West Island
Prisoner's Dilemma
Spelling Bee game
frenchpod101.com 100 core french words
red panda
Parks Canada Reservation Service
Macleans.ca How public libraries are reinventing themselves
packhorse librarians
Petits Fruits St-Louis and haskap berries
gorilla step ladder Home Depot
Habitat ReStore 4399 rue Notre-Dame
Green was the earth on the 7th day Thor Heyerdahl PCPL
Liriodendron Tulipifera
Why should I know the lowest Common denominator
Full Moon 2019
Victoria Day Barrie 360 Why?
L'histoire de Mont Royal en 10 temp
clue live Montreal
Belmont Park Montreal
Shengen Area
Get_Fit_Fast.pdf
HeritageMontreal.ort
alpine gems
Ministers Island
Serenity Prayer
spaghetti squash burrito bowl recipe
Smithson
fly magazine sky express.gr
whelk egg case
Canadian Library Association
Fight Song
Recycleacrossamerica
rewire.org
fly or drive popular science
diy camera lucida project
conrad black
make your iphone read anything out loud
indian restaurant near snowdon metro
Phone charging stations kiosks and docks Chargebar
Carrot flower knife techniques
Steven Pinker books and Tedtalks
Ju Ming
To Do: A book of Alphabets Gertrude Stein
Centaur Theatre 27
British Porky Pig Chocolate
Tutorial: Invisible Seams, The Hidden Stitch
Smart Tools track air pollutions around the world
Burglary Crime Vicim Services
Capsule Wardrobe
Believe it or not Greatest American Hero
The Knossos Labyrinth Rodney Castleden
The Bull of Minos Leonard Cottrell
The Stronghold Xan Fielding
Tasmania
William Ernest Henly poem
Wait for me to come home lyrics
unigear traction cleats
The Hero with a Thousand Faces Campbell
How to hit your fitness goals in 22 minutes a day
vimeo the play ART by Yasmina Reza

VICTORIA PARK, REGINA

Across the street from the Hotel Saskatchewan is a park that I identify as downtown. I suspect consumers would argue that Cornwall center is, but this pretty park, flanked by a CP hotel and the library, was the center of the universe to me. Books and architecture and Saskatoons at the farmer's market. This is my happy place in Regina, with Wascana Park a close second.

I worked at the Regina Public library in high school, rewinding and repairing films in the AV department, back when projectors were the norm for showing film in class, not a tv! It is classic place, and it the bones of it are not much changed. From memory, I am sure that this interior is the same:



From the date on the wall, this probably is not changed, but the brick seems to be from a more modern era than my time there.


I honestly don't remember these ruins. There was a time when it was all the rage in canada for the wealthy (I learned this from William Mackenzie King's estate) to recreate their own ruins. Maybe this was always there? The courtyard was for sure. Ancient Greece and Rome was not on my radar at the time.



One of two churches on the park is the Knox Metropolitan United. Like many others, it had to rebuild after a tornado struck Regina, in 1912. In retrospect, this boded ill of a wedding to take place on June 30th, 2002.

The wedding cake building on Scarth Street, as my mom would call it. It is a goverment of Canada building that is, of course, Art Deco. This space, however, has a more infamous claim to fame. It the site of the building, where in 1885, Louis Riel was "tried" and sentenced to hang.

There is no statue of Victoria in the park, but there is one of John A MacDonald, looking a little like Lewis Carroll in his jauty pose.

The stark central figure of the park: the war memorial (cenotaph).

This exhibition was a yearly event, just like mosaic was.

MISTAKES ARE HARD TO MAKE

It was a hot sunny day and we were just leaving the market at Ste. Anne's by the boardwalk. There was a nice shady place to sit on giant stones by a water fountain, so we sat after getting a drink. We saw a colourful tiny spider and I was instructed to take a picture. In an attempt to give scale, Princess Pirate put her finger in the shot, but did not properly judge the distance, and accidentally killed the spider where it had moved. It was a devastating act, with a severe reaction from the teen ego. Some lessons are harder to learn than others. 

One sad teen

PARTY PLANNING

A visit to St. Anne's market for supplies, including two teapots at NOVA.



Scones trial, to make sure I still got it!



Break out the candy Princess Pirate made on a day she was alone and full of ideas! I know we are out of chocolate chips, but I should check out the sprinkle supply too!





Hairstyles

SAINT ANNE'S MARKET

It's time for the open air Saturday market, and I have been exploring ways to get there that is a little more environmentally responsible. Certainly it is a great thing to have local produce. Some of it is so fresh and inexpensive, but a couple of my favorites are the more expensive premade items.

Ste. Anne's market had a new location this past weekend. Usually for the winter, they are housed in the gymnasium of St. George's Anglican church, but they were spilling over 3 weeks ago onto the street and decided to find a home on McGill's west island MacDonald campus. Their usual place by the water is still too iffy because of water levels flooding the boardwalk and sidewalks for longer than usual this year.





I like to go hungry with the variety of baked goods are a good place for breakfast, with the possibility of getting coffee in a ceramic mug if you get there early enough. Like everything though, it is quite a Herculean task to get anything without creating single service waste. If you want sugar and milk in your coffee, even the mug is not enough. So after feeling guilty for a UHT cream container and sugar packets (I can't seem to drink it black, unfortunately), I  now drink my coffee at home and put my muffin wrapper in the compost when I get home.

My two favourite purchases were injera wraps filled with spicy lentils and potatoes (try this recipe at home for Mesir Wat). That being said, there were fresh asparagus, radishes, red and orange tomatoes,  basil plants and a fresh heads of lettuce, with dirt and insects to prove it for a highly affordable $1.50 each.



and some Argentinian shortbread cookies filled with dulce de leche and rolled in coconut (Alfajores).

I was intrigued by this new-to-me fruit called the haskap and purchased a jam to serve with scones on my summer tea party.



Although cash seems to go very quickly, and the temptation is great to buy more sweet than necessary, but when I am able to make the train leaving at 10 am and come back on foot or bike (it's a longest walk but beautiful at 13 km), or even drive the short distance for a local product, it is a great Saturday morning with an exciting prospect of fresh products as the summer nears.

DREAMING OF AUSTRIA/GERMANY AT CHRISTMAS

My first Christmas away from home was barely white, with a lovely family in Augsburg, Germany. What I remember was that they loved to watch Sissi, like we used to watch the Sound of Music during the holiday.

I've been back to Austria and Germany since, but never at Christmas. I have attended German school and been to a local Christmas market. Christmas makes me think of treats from these roots. So I bought the movie, and watched it with two German speakers. I made Linzertorte for the first time, and the spices were lovely, like gingerbread.

I am sure there is nicer way to make the lattice, but it was delicious!

I made pretzels, with Alton Brown's recipe, and was very pleased with the upgraded design.

Check out the double braid on the middle left. Those were less traditional, but my personal favorite.

Salzburger Mozartkugeln and marzipan chocolates by Neideregger Lübeck. Ready for Sissi watching. 

DAVID WEBB AND THE IDES OF APRIL

I thought time could not pass faster after a busy winter that felt like it was slowing down after Valentine's Day, but here I am near the end of March with a lot of thoughts in my head. Warning to my readers: this is going to be a jumbled up, loose ends of a brain dump. This might be a treasure chest of random thoughts or complete garbage comprehensible only by me. But today is Monday on a momma week. My princess pirate made the bus and I have my birthday cat, 17 years old today, in my lap. So it is time to clear the search history on my phone's safari app, and put a few thoughts down.

Last fall I volunteered for a cross country run. I saw the list of volunteers while I was looking for a file, and had to google the name of Jason Bourne to be sure that one station was not manned by him! The name of the volunteer was David Webster, but Jason Bourne was named David Webb. I tend to conflate things like that. Google helps me clarify! In this case, I found out that I am born the same year as Jason Bourne, and apparently his birthday is April 15th.

I am looking for two types of chairs. Maybe I am just looking for trouble, but I like the look of white. First was an idea for the living room. I have looking for a coffee table that is not so enormous, and have a symetrical room with 4 dining room chairs, but although it is great for an annual party, day to day it doesn't it feel that cosy. Plus I have an orphan chair, and I think finding a match might do the trick. So I am in the market for a Tullsta covered chair, but don't want to pay $200. So I am on the prowl. I am willing to buy the cover new but the rest of the living room has older covers, so I prefer it to match. I am also looking for a white tall backed desk chair like I sat in once at the Bessborough.


Then again, I may just vacuum my current chairs, wipe down my gigantic coffee table, and keep walking around it.

My Princess Pirate has been reading Max Finder Mystery. There are short graphic stories with enough clues to figure out the suspect and the story. These are interspersed with puzzles. It reminds me of the obsession I had at her age about spies and mysteries. I was reading Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden and how-to spy books I keep looking for but can't find.


Carl Jung coined the word "synchronicity" at the same time as Albert Einstein was coming up with relativity. I don't understand either of them, even with the dummies' version. But I will at least try and remember what that dummies' version is. Synchronicity is the temporally coincident occurrences of acausal events. Is it randomness? The opposite of fatalism? meaningful coincidence? I'm too tired and too busy to reflect on this further but maybe one day these lines may restart a new thread of thoughts.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP FROM MARTHA'S MEATLESS

It had a beautiful Quebec butternut squash and I felt like soup. I found this simple recipe and made a batch while listening the fourth part of the BBC Reith Lecture to a CBC radio program about an obscure Polish writer named Stanislawa Przybysweska, who wrote fifteen hour plays about the French Revolution. It was piping hot, and sprinkled with dried sage and ritz crackers, filling and fragrant. It was maybe a little bland, especially with the adjective "spiced", but I do love butternut squash and sage. Maybe I'll try rosemary next time. Check out this option for another time with another squash. Maybe at the farmer's market tomorrow!

Supper!

                                             

FRIDAY THE 13TH, A REAL PERFECT DAY

Woke up with my daughter in the house.

Despite 5 days of fever, and exhaustion,  when the flu broke and it was time to go back to school, she got up with only one reminder, and we made it to the bus with time to spare.

I ate her leftover half a nutella toast, and found a crust end for a sufficient breakfast.

I had time to go number two!

I went for a run in the forest along the water, among autumn leaves, with a friend. We didn't get lost, and we ran 10k!

I met another friend, and we ate outside at Satay brothers at the beautiful Atwater market, walked along the Lachine canal, and sat on the chairs chatting.





After school, my daughter and I coloured and answered "Would you rather" questions.

Unplanned nap on the couch ending with a warm crushing cuddle on top.

Leftovers for supper.

Last minute ticket to Phantom of the Opera, with a seat so close to the chandelier, I nearly had a heart attack when it fell!



Bedtime in clean sheets with a warm comforter (ready for winter).