...your just over 2 year old turns into a teenager. The Big Yam had a nightmare last night so we pulled him into bed with us at 3am. This morning, as we were battling our first-day-back-at-work blues and getting up to an alarm, he was splayed out horizontally on our bed, face down, out COLD when we'd been up for over an hour. We had the light on in the room and everything, and he couldn't be roused. When I finally nudged him awake he got all super-dramatic about it, thrashing around and moaning and telling me that it was too bright and to "turn light off!" There have been insane linguistic advances lately. He's gone from announcing his desires with only nouns to constant, "I want"/"I don't want" (usually followed by a please). We're also into a "What's that Mama/Baba?" phase that we can see is going to lead into the incessant "Why?" territory soon, because he's doing it already with stuff he knows. Also, in the last week he got super into tea parties, to the point where too much hard play with our actual tea cups resulted in the necessity of a tea set purchase. For the record: he likes his tea with at least 5 spoons of sugar, and he likes it hot (he'll put it in the oven for you if it's not hot enough). We had mild cases of the Sunday blues last night. It was rough going to bed at 9:30 and setting an alarm when we'd been used to staying up late and sleeping in. But this morning, I put on my GAP skinnies, pulled on my blazer, rolled my cuffs, put on my booties at work and felt like a BOSS. I can't help it - I just love working and I love my job. I feel so fulfilled. Tore through my vacation inbox gleefully and put things in motion and felt GOOD. So. New year. I don't usually do resolutions, but if I was to try to be conscious of something it would be to be try to up my positivity and not be such a negative b***h, letting idiots and people who bug me send me into a time-sucking rage (over usually, very small things). I would also try to be conscious of trying to be more relaxed and less control-freak and most importantly, making an attempt to humor people (like, my mum) instead of always trying to make sure the record is accurate. Trying to make sure things are accurate is like, a huge fault of mine. It makes it hard to let things go. This is made difficult by the following: 1) I believe in informed choice 2) I believe in accuracy (and indeed, my job is basically to be an arbiter of reliable, accurate, and current information) 3) I have the memory of an elephant Most people do NOT have my elephantine-like memory, which makes it difficult for me when I'm like, "100% this happened," and they remember it differently. On the one hand, I can't HELP the fact that I have near-total recall. On the other hand, I gotta learn to pick my battles and like, let it go sometimes. It suits my narrative to think that people find me prickly because I'm loud, sure, confident, and an industrious pig with an elephant's memory. I can construct the resistance to me as being anti-feminist and the fact that people like a woman who is more chill and laid back and less forceful. I can recognize that this is a convenient narrative for me that obscures my need to look more closely at myself and try to attenuate my responses to situations so that they don't engender such a strong response in turn. BUT (you knew there was going to be a giant but, there, didn't you?), I think a lot of the problem people have has to do with feminism and the anti-feminist need for women to be and act or express their opinions in a certain way. This basically means that I'm not going to back down when the Dotytron's like, aunts and uncles espouse uneducated, simplistic, and sometimes downright offensive racist or anti-union opinions on a public forum like Facebook. I'M PUTTING YOU ON NOTICE, DOTYTRON AUNTIES AND UNCLES!!! I HAVE THE FACTS ON MY SIDE!!! Hahaha. I'm currently reading this collection of essays called The Mansion of Happiness by Jill Lepore and there's a section on birth control and child-rearing that talks about Margaret Sanger (who you will likely know as one of the most vocal proponents for birth control access). She published an 8 page monthly newsletter called The Woman Rebel (YES!) and in one issue exhorted her readers to: "look the whole world in the face with a go-to-hell look in the eye." To which I say a hearty, YES, GUY. These are our breakfast and dinners lately:
Sour cream pancakes & English bacon
Turkey dinner with stuffing, brussels sprouts salad, cumin roasted cauliflower, roasted garlic mash, for Dr. Rei, Hanbo, the Roomie, and L'Armi
Sweet potato pecan pie for the same turkey dinner. I cut back on the sugar in the sweet potato layer and it made it very potato-y. I won't make that mistake again!
Turkey soup with dilled matzoh balls - leftovers from the turkey dinner put to good use as the Dotytron is feeling sick.
Not pictured: the baked whole wheat penne with tomato sauce, ricotta, and meatballs, covered with a thick, gooey, browned, chewy lid of mozzarella that we had for Sunday blues dinner last night, alongside caesar salad. All I've been craving lately is like, red-sauce Italian-American food and plenty of it - fettuccine alfredo, chicken marsala, veal parmesan and heavily dressed caesar salads. Yum.
In the words of Dr. Rei: "Hunger Strike is my favorite duet of all time." LOL! It was gold. Even if my go-to karaoke song was ridiculed beyond all measure (my karaoke song, which I think is in my range, is Janet Jackson's Again - which is a huge downer ballad that's a million minutes too long). We took turns randomly picking tunes from the 90s to play while we played Settlers last night and it was the most hilarious time of life. It was just the best. Except for the Dotytron's one illegal divergence into TTD (that's Terrence Trend D'Arby) territory. The song is amazing, and will probably get thrown into the DJ Fraaaaanche mix, but it was released in 1987.
Dr. Rei picked Ruffest Gunark and as soon as the opening bit came on, the Dotytron, Dr. Rei and myself immediately reverted to pure gunshots-in-the-air junglism.
Ahhh, the 90s. So awkward for me socially, so rewarding culturally.
I'm just gonna say right now, I would totally go back in time and rekindle my lust for both Dave Pirner of Soul Asylum AND Jason Newsted of Metallica.
We have seen a s**t-ton of movies lately. Here's my rundown.
I am really, really, really glad that I didn't pay to see this movie in the theatre. The Dotytron and I were constantly looking at each other being, "these kids are insufferable." It was all so...precious. I get it. I get how feeling like an outcast (uhh, hello, I was totally an outcast - albeit a strange breed of outcast who was kind of popular with the boys? - in high school) makes you feel like you're a special jewel when you find other outcasts. I hung out with a bunch of goth/industrialists one year my senior who bought sheets of acid (sheets!) at a time. I know what it's like to not feel like you fit in. However, this was the 90s. It was kind of de rigeur to not fit in. The 90s were a very forgiving time to be dressed in head to toe Goodwill and rock a man purse and undone Docs and ponchos. It was amazing. Now granted, these kids are growing up in Philly - so maybe it was different in the States, but the protagonists in this film, the damaged, wounded birds, are kind of weaksauce, to me (remember: SHEETS OF LSD). I didn't really get what made them so special. They were kind of second tier...like the kind of kids in high school who were all about Bush or Better Than Ezra (second tier 90s bands). The film was written and directed by the author of the book upon which the film is based, which can be very, very dangerous. John Green, one of the most brilliant YA authors around, has wisely refrained from adapting his optioned novels for the screen because he feels that this job is best left to professionals. I would say he is right. There was way too much affection for very middling characters who all had an after-school-special wounded-bird "reveal" that was supposed to explain why they engaged in such damaging behavior as sleeping with douchey, pretentious college boys. When the Dotytron and I were watching the movie, we totally pegged the crew of kids in our high school that this film was representing...people who were legends in their own minds but who were second tier at best. Emma Watson is very, very, very bad at playing an American teenager. The big reveal about the central protagonist (I think his name is Charlie) that comes at the 3/4 mark in the film seemed really overwrought to me. The one bright moment was Ezra Miller's portrayal of Patrick - Miller is a fantastic actor and imbues the character with precisely the kind of adolescent fire that the other characters lacked.
Django Unchained doesn't approach the brilliance of other Tarantino films - I can't say I liked it as much as Inglourious Basterds, by a long shot. It was incredibly entertaining, although it needed some editing - I felt the film dragged in the last 1/3. Much has been made about Tarantino's numbing use of the N-word. I don't see this as an issue. I think the N-word debate in contemporary American popular cultural criticism is fuelled by people with a very rudimentary understanding of the fluidity of language. It's VERY easy to tell when people are using the N-word pejoratively and as a racist invective as opposed to reclaiming it. Can you claim that Tarantino fetishizes black culture? Yes. But I think you can claim that Tarantino fetishizes most pulp American culture in all its forms, and therefore, I don't get from Tarantino that he's being racist. He's practicing a brand of post-modern pastiche that he invented and brought to American filmmaking.
Much has been made about the framing of the film - with Foxx's Django a silent, mute, black hero who is helped along by a white guide, and of how it depicts black American slaves as all-too willing accomplices in their own enslavement, waiting for white emancipators. I definitely see some merits in that, but I'm not sure that Django's silence isn't more to do with the tropes of the Western hero and less to do with his being a slave lackey.
Christoph Walz is entrancing. He is a wonderful Tarantino muse and he devours audience attention when he's on screen. It's hard to focus on the other actors when he's there. Leonardo DiCaprio was also extremely good - reminding me of what a great actor he can be.
I might have ruined Les Misérables for myself by revisiting the 10th anniversary edition and listening to too much Colm Wilkinson. Colm Wilkinson IS Jean Valjean for me and it's hard for me to accept others in the role (the role and the songs were actually written with him in mind). I don't think I would have been able to accept any film adaptation, in reality, much as I wanted to. Ultimately, I think the power of the musical is in the songs, and in the delivery of the songs by strong, musical theatre voices. I don't need to see the facial expressions that accompany them.
I didn't think that Hugh Jackman made a good Jean Valjean. He favours a lot of vibratto, and his voice is very quavery, which means he never really hits the note. I also don't love the timbre of his voice. To me, he's more of a "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaaaal" type of musical theatre performer (playing Peter Allen doesn't dispel this notion). More of a jazz hands and flying kicks type, instead of, as my sister would say, and Irish tenor (we have no idea what this means, but we feel that Colm is one). Anne Hathaway does a pretty good job of doing Fantine, and only indulges in a bit of Oscar-baiting scenery chewing - her voice was strong. I was expecting to hate Russell Crowe's inability to sing, and he did ruin certain songs for me, but I thought he was passable. The guy who played Marius, who has a face I don't usually love (too many freckles!!!), totally surprised me and I LOVED the guy who played Enjolras. Overall, it was moving, although I find Tom Hopper's insistence on weird, tight, off-kilter close-ups distracting and I thought some of Javert's costumes looked cheap.
I really really really liked this. Do I think it's like, an Oscar-worthy, best film of the year? No, but it's definitely deserving of the audience-favorite awards and acting noms that it's generating. We are BIG David O. Russell fans around here. This is just a cracking good romantic comedy. And not in the Nora Ephron screwball way (which is also good), or in the way that passes for romantic comedies nowadays, with Katherine Heigl playing a damaged neurotic mess of a woman who can't take care of her shiz and whose life isn't complete without a man (which is very, very bad), but in the way that makes you laugh with human moments that are funny but also tinged with drama - like life. The family drama elements and friend drama elements and the sports and superstition all play out in a relaxed, natural, winning way. It was charming. Bradley Cooper, who I normally dislike, was fantastic, and Jennifer Lawrence, whom I almost always love, is the most desirable nutjob to ever appear onscreen. Loved this.
I had pretty dismal expectations for This is 40, coming off of shell shock from the depressingly unfunny Funny People. The criticisms of this film are mostly true - it's a little too Apatow - like, he needs to get out of his own head and life. Casting his own wife and his own kids doesn't help - his kids are okay, but kind of flat and stiff and the youngest one looks like she's looking at her dad off screen in almost every scene. Leslie Mann is cute but the director doesn't maintain a suitable distance - you can tell he's crazy in love with her. What saves this movie is that there are some genuine laughs derived from astute observations about couple and family dynamics. I definitely laughed out loud - I just wouldn't necessarily tell people that this is a must-see comedy.
Being an information professional subjected to n00b librarians and old geezer librarians constantly trying to stay relevant by hopping on whatever death knell for media trend is de rigeur (and without any rigorous analysis or criticism or knowledge of people, trends, desires, or technology), this doc was obviously wicked up my alley. It's basically about the New York Times and how they're struggling in the wake of bloggers and Twitter and aggregators and whathaveyou. It focuses a lot on media correspondent Gary Carr, who is this amazing, grizzled, former addict with a take-no-bulls**t attitude who's like, "I used to be a junkie, so no, I'm not worried about my future at the Times." It was awesome because it underscores how CONTENT IS EVERYTHING and how AUTHORITY MATTERS. I can't say that enough: CONTENT IS EVERYTHING. AUTHORITY MATTERS.
Okay. That's enough out of me for now.
Seventeen work-free days are drawing to a close so I'm going to combat a case of the Sunday blues by sitting on the couch and knitting and reading up a storm.
Was Christmas only a week ago? It feels like ages. We've had a humdinger of a holiday so far, and what's best - there's still 4 work-free days to go!
There was a lot of upheaval leading up to Christmas - the Dotytron's sister's pet cat was in and out of emergency and we didn't know if she was going to come to the farm or not and there was a lot of re-jigging and constantly changing plans to make sure that we'd get to spend time with her over the holiday. It all worked out in the end, and we made it to the farm, a day later, but still, enough for us to revel in the stillness and beauty of rural Ontario (despite the presence of 3 dogs, turkeys, a couple of sheep, and a murderous rooster).
The Boobla on Christmas morning, after opening his present from us - the classic Fisher Price Popcorn Popper, which he loves. He's also wearing the hat I knit for him.
Scenes from the Farm. Farmer R got the Big Yam this camo fleece suit for his birthday, and he was wearing it at the farm. That's him and Farmer R doing man stuff in the family room. So cute! I love that photo.
3 turkeys in a barn. This is shortly before I almost got beat up by a rooster. The Big Yam was standing up, just surveying the scene and this vicious, bullying rooster just up and charged at him. The Big Yam freaked out, started crying, the Dotytron picked him up, and I ran at the rooster, who retreated for about 2 seconds and then came at me. I ran away with my arms in the air, screaming. That guy was tough.
We came home to a Christmas miracle: snow!!! So we unpacked the car and promptly borrowed our neighbour's sled for some Big Yam sledding. So grateful that we have an awesome hill AT THE BOTTOM OF OUR STREET. Yay Lil' Ugmo!
Christmas with my family was a hoot. This is the only decent photo we got with all the cousins.
Because my family believes in age-appropriate play. This is how we treat the younger generation. We followed this up by playing Cards Against Humanity with the kids present. Then we all took turns timing each other in how long it took for us to put together a Melissa and Doug puzzle, marketed for children aged 3. EVERYONE was timed, down to the youngest kids up to my brother's girlfriends. It was awesome, and very typical my family.
My sister got the Big Yam this t-shirt, which is obviously the best t-shirt of all time.
On our way back home, we stopped at Phoenix for breakfast. This is a sign of how far the Dotytron has come in his Chinese appreciation. He was ALL OVER the weird, HK-style cafe offerings. So stoked about getting chicken teriyaki with fried eggs and condensed milk toast. I had the spicy satay macaroni soup. It's surprisingly comforting.
This is the quilt I made for the roomie's baby T. Finished just in the nick of time! The pattern is a simple one that I made up, making use of colorful scraps I had on hand in my stash.
This adorable baby is the adorablest. But she looks tired because she isn't sleep-trained. LOL! The roomie is always like, "T just went down for a 20 minute nap" and the Dotytron was like, "That's not a nap. She's just spreading out her night's sleep over the course of an entire day." I keep threatening that we're going to kidnap her for 3 nights and return her to the Roomie and L'Armi sleep-trained but the Roomie won't hear of it.
We spent New Year's Eve with our Magnetewan cottage crew - minus Pingy. We had finger foods and talked about the Idle No More movement and Indigenous rights in Canada. We also talked about the arts and it was precisely the kind of conversations that I love. I've known Montréal I and the Roomie since university and feel so grateful that we found each other. So many nights spent talking deep into the night. So many more of such nights in our future. Feeling lucky to have them. Our New Year's breakfast with them was: nduja scrambled eggs, bacon, the Dotytron's waffles, and rye toast.
Last night's dinner. I've been craving red meat like mad lately.
We sent the Big Yam into daycare today. The Dotyron and I are going to see a movie at our local with some free vouchers we got from a botched Dark Knight Rises screening in the summer.
Saw a bunch of movies over the break...will review tomorrow.
Oh my. I have a heart full to bursting. What a weekend it's been and we're only midway through Sunday!
Friday was a delicious, multicourse extravaganza hosted by our dear friends, B & G. They generously thanked everyone who helped with their August wedding by having us all over for an Italian dinner - featuring platters of proscuitto di parma, taleggio, pecorino, a rabbit pappardelle, an arugala salad, a slow-roasted pork shoulder with root vegetables, beans, and pannetone and panforte for dessert. Along with different wines to pair with each course and the emergence of midnight grappa! It was unreal! We sat and dined and talked public policy and laughed and joke deep into the night. The Big Yam passed out and we tucked him into our hosts bed and trundled home bleary eyed at 1am. We had a Sleep Away Camp night because we knew it was going to be easier than trying to get him down in his crib.
The Big Yam opted to wake at his usual time (7am) so we were hurrrrrting all day yesterday. I can't even tell you how hurting. Not enough sleep by far. Then we went to Momma D's for a Christmas brunch with her sister and Cousin Yeti and Cousin M. Then, just when we thought we'd be able to nap while the Big Yam went down, I made the inexorably bad decision to try to "quickly" fix our leaky kitchen faucet. DISASTER. I took it apart, but then couldn't put it back together again. Then, the valves under the sink started leaking, and then, what had been a slow drip, turned into a full throttle rush of water from the faucet. So I called our drain guy, who as it turns out, only does drains. He recommend a plumber, but when I called the plumber he didn't pick up. So I went down the list of Homestars. Settled on Mr. Rooter because I thought they were reputable and they could come right away. So, instead of napping, I then had to DEAL WITH A TRADE. WORST!
I should have gone with my gut. Mr. Rooter is a scam of scams. Basically, it's a big organization that sub-contracts n00bs who get to wear the uniform and give people the impression that uniform = experience. This guy was the worst! He came in and was like, "You need a whole new faucet. It's old. And I need to re-do the pipes that lead to the faucet." The cost? Replacement of faucet (where I purchase the faucet - just the labour) - $250+ tax. Then, to fix the pipes underneath ($150+tax). So suddenly, I'm looking at another trip to Home Depot to buy a new faucet and $400. So I put my Chinese hat on and worked on him for a solid fifteen minutes. Me: "How about you bill me for the pipe fixing and then I give you $100 cash and you fix the faucet and leave it off the books" (and various permutations of this). To his credit (and this is the ONLY thing I'll give to this guy), he wouldn't take my under-the-table haggling deal. So, I was like, since I have to pay Mr. Rooter a "just to show up" charge of $70 anyway, at the VERY least just put my faucet back together again so I can use it and I'll deal with the mini-drip. So he stayed in my kitchen for a G-D HOUR taking up time when I could have been napping, and at the end of it...DIDN'T PUT IT BACK TOGETHER PROPERLY. When we turned the valves back on, the water was still gushing out. I was so pissed!!!
So I called my original guy back and he was willing to come to our house, from AJAX on a SUNDAY, and he fixed both problems in an hour, and charged me $180 total. Lesson learned. NEVER, EVER go with the big guys, and go with the the little dude who has a sense of craft. The upshot is, now I have a plumber and a drain guy who I LOVE. Seriously, drain guy called me back yesterday afternoon just to make sure I'd found someone. What a mesnch!
Even though we were feeling very, very, very rough, we pulled it together and went to S & P's for S's annual Polish Christmas dinner. UNREAL. 10 people, in their apartment, served the following:
- Polish charcuterie - smoked sausages, cured meats, pickles, rye bread, and this yogurt/soft cheese spread that I'm addicted to
- fried mountain cheese on rye bread
- pickled herring on buttered rye (this pickled herring was sooooo good! S gave me some to take home, because she's a sweetheart)
- cubes of chicken & dill aspic (this was like chicken soup, but in jellied form - cold and refreshing)
- a wild mushroom soup with sour cream and dill (the best mushroom soup I've ever had), served with little puff pastry wrapped mushroom puree bites
- perogies
- potato salad
- pork roast stuffed with prunes with mashed potatoes, and grated beets
- assorted Polish sweets served with vodka & blackcurrant syrup
Oh no you di'n't!!! One woman! Doing all that! For TEN PEOPLE!!! It was unreal to the max.
I'm still dreaming of that pickled herring (I'm eating the stuff she gave me for breakfast tomorrow) and thinking longingly of that mushroom soup.
Plus, we did a Secret Santa exchange and then people gave the Big Yam sweet presents and S & P sent us home with little bags of Polish candies.
I can't even.
The conversation was so good! We talked about animal rights and voting with your dollar and racism and other lighter topics. A debate about whether the majority of stars are orbited by planets (which was the Dotytron's position) resulted in us tweeting Neil deGrasse Tyson for an answer (we haven't gotten one yet). We talked about unicorns. It was stellar.
Again, we got home super-late (for a night out with the Big Yam) - another 1am. But wonders of wonders - the Big Yam slept in until 8am and that extra hour made all the difference. This afternoon we have a Christmas party at our neighbours house with the kiddies.
I also forgot to mention that on Thursday I went for the Hart House Holiday Buffet lunch with MHui and G and it was the best!!! Just look:
I mean, REALLY. How can you NOT want to eat there? They also had a fire going in their giant fireplace and they were projecting snow on the walls for an extra Hogwarts-y touch.
Dr. Rei and Hanbo came by and spoiled the Big Yam rotten with a book of Aesop's Fables and a mini-Gandalf. G got the Big Yam a cute board book about the moon and MHui got the Big Yam this adorable Chewbacca stuffy that makes Chewbacca sounds:
As an aside: nerdiest collection of presents, ever! Love it.
That's not even counting the train and bowling set from SMckay and this cute wooden doll that S gave to T and this cute wooden car he got last night. It's all too much, really.
My heart is full to bursting thinking of how lucky we are to be raising a kid who is loved by our community of friends and loved ones and how lucky we are to be able to count this extended network of smart, funny, talented, kind, and diverse people as our dear friends.
IT'S THE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS, RIGHT THERE!
Hilarious: while our plumber (who is an irie dude from one of the French-speaking Caribbean islands) was working on our kitchen sink, the Big Yam, clutching Gandalf up there, went up to him and said, "Look, it's Gandalf" and our plumber was all like :|
So good!
Sunday breakfast: brisket sammies with cheddar, topped with a fried egg, and tater tots. F**king love tater tots.
Tonight for dinner we had fusilli with Italian sausage in a rosé sauce and arugala salad. We chased these with cookies and milk.
Most of our screen-time has been devoted to slowly and methodically working our way through seasons 1 through 4 of Sons of Anarchy (a project that we started in the beginning of September, to give you an idea of just how limited our screen time is of late). In between that, we've managed to see the following flicks.
The Cabin in the Woods was a cute, clever little spin on the genre, with the signature Joss Whedon touch and sense of puckish humour which we're obviously big fans of. It was very wink and a nudge and pop-culture savvy and it wasn't too scary, which are all elements I look for in horror. It was enjoyably disposable.
This movie was a snooze and a half. WHAT WERE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? It was sooo snoozy!!! NOTHING HAPPENS!!! There are long, meandering conversations that go nowhere, there is little to no character progression, and you don't care a whit about any of them. Channing Tatum is winning and proves (kinda sorta) that he can carry a serious role, but in all honesty, we were just bored out of our skulls. I will say that his dancing skills are top notch and some of the dance sequences were entertaining, but the whole thing had that lazy, lackadaisical Steven Soderbergh indie-vibe that didn't seem to really suit the subject matter, or how the film was marketed. Negative 10 stars.
The Campaign is another flick that gives you precisely what you expect. We watched it around the time of the US elections, and because of what was happening with Uncle Rico, it hit a little too close to home. It was funny enough and satirical enough, but I find that Will Farrell movies are so predictable that I'm getting tired of his performance and the performances of all the usual supporting characters.
I wanted to like Brave, I really did. But the first Pixar film featuring a female heroine (what took them so long?!? Ask Joss Whedon what he thinks of that!) was a disappointment. The story was beyond slight and lacked a lot of emotional resonance. Nothing really happens and the dialogue and sight gags and general big thoughts on what makes people (or inanimate objects) tick that's usually characteristic of their work was missing. It seemed like this was strictly for the kids, whereas Pixar's most successful (to me) films say things that resonate with both adults and children alike. Brave was all about making one point and one point only, and that single-mindedness resulted in a lacklustre finished product.
Laini Taylor's follow up to Daughter of Smoke and Bone, was probably my most anticipated fall literary release. And boy, does Days of Blood and Starlight deliver. I know that the majority of my paltry readership doesn't go for YA fantasy, but good lord...was this ever enjoyable and fulfilling and a rollicking good read. We are instantly swept back into the world that Taylor created and our relationships with the characters deepen in a plot that while not filled with constant motion, still manages to move the trilogy along and keep you invested. This one was much more about the characters than the first instalment. The friendship between the lead, Karou and her friend Zuzana is really sweet and readers invested in the series have their emotional ties to story arcs tested and renewed. I am simply desperate for the third book. I need to find out what happens! I'm not sure that this will ever get turned into a film - it should...I think Peter Jackson, if he's ever done with mangling J.R.R. Tolkein's legacy, would be a good fit. Actually, Guillermo del Toro would be THE BEST at bringing to life this world of other dimensions and chimaera. I hope somebody is listening!!!
I gave the second book in Libba Bray's Gemma Doyle trilogy a shot. I finished it, but through force of will. I think I just might not be into Libba Bray. I find she likes to bludgeon the reader over the head with period details in her novels (this one is set in Victorian England) and I also find her characters so unlikeable. Also, there's too much waffling back and forth and the same things get repeated (for instance, a central character is a mousy, poor teenage girl who doesn't stand up for herself when she's getting picked on, and this continues AGAIN AND AGAIN). I mean, I guess I get it. That's pretty true to life. People generally don't have giant revelations that result in 180 turns on their essential character traits...but still. The books are over-long and Bray leaves such a heavy breadcrumb trail that the reader gets frustrated for the character's obtuseness. I'm not going to finish the series. I need a break from her for a while.
Ahhhh, Zadie Smith. You gorgeous, incredibly gifted liteary phenom, you. Is it possible for you to publish anything that doesn't instantly become the pet of literary newspapers and the intelligentsia that read them's hearts (that sentence hurts to read, I know). What do educated, liberal white people love to read about? Poor people (check). Poor non-white people (check). James Joycean stream of consciousness writing styles (check). People in housing projects (check). Stories that validate what they think of poor, non-white people who live in housing projects (check). This is a series of interconnected stories about a group of people who all grew up or live in North West London in the same housing project. Each section deals with a different character and it's written in a post-modern, Joycean kind of way. I should note that I loved Smith's first novel (the one that launched her into the hearts of salons everywhere), White Teeth. This one though, lacked the humour and obvious affection for the characters that White Teeth had. In this case, I found N.W. to be kind of patronizing. It seemed to be offering up these people's stories for the benevolent (or otherwise) white gaze. I didn't like it at all.
I'm currently reading Jess Walters' Beautiful Ruins and then I'll be following it up with The Mansion of Happiness and Behind the Beautiful Forevers. I've got my holiday reading cut out for me!
For the few presents we bought this year, because I'm an obsessive freak who likes my presents to be as art-directed as other elements of my life (read: all wrapped in a uniform fashion, simply), I decided to fill my urban-crafter destiny and go with baker's twine (what took me so long?) and brown kraft paper:
Ta-da! They look pretty hype, don't you think? The lettering was done with one of the spoils from working at the Public Library oh so many years ago - an office self-inking stamp. It's the kind with five lines, and a little case of teeny-tiny letters and punctuation that you push into the ridged lines to make whatever message you choose, using a pair of plastic tweezers developed for precisely that purpose. I've had the stamp for years and years, on the assumption that such a thing was going to come in handy someday, and lo, did it ever. Is it fussy? Yes, but LOOK AT HOW HYPE THEY LOOK! Just look!!! Ugh...I couldn't even deal with how pretty the packages were. I could have personalized each one, but since we bought so few, it's easy for me to tell which package belongs to who.
This is my new signature wrapping style. It's pretty cost-effective too. I almost invested in a 1000ft roll of commercial brown kraft paper before my friend G hepped me to the fact that Canada Post sells them for $3 a roll. Perfect! And the baker's twine, while expensive, comes in a GIANT roll. Like, epically long. Long enough that paying $14 for one roll in a delicious aqua is a difficult decision to make when there are so many delicious colours of baker's twine and you can't justify spending another $14 on another roll just so you have variety.
In other news...I don't have much in other news. I am working at night on my last Christmas craft and then baking off the last of the cookies for gifting and then I am done. DONE DONE DONE! And even though we didn't buy many gifts this year, December STILL came and kicked our accounts in the nuts. Having to pay $400 yesterday for the Captain's misfiring engine was a bit of a pisser, too.
But! But I am tremendously excited that as of tomorrow afternoon, once I'm finished pigging out at the Annual Hart House Holiday Buffet Lunch (which is the closest I get to eating in the Hogwart's mess hall), I don't have to come in to work for a glorious, glorious SEVENTEEN days (including weekends). BLISS!!!
I am so excited for this I can't even tell you. I want to take the Big Yam to the zoo (even though I'm ethically opposed to the zoo, I feel like it's okay for the stuff I think he'd get a kick out of - like the giant snakes and things) and to sleep in and eat lazy breakfasts and drop him off at daycare so we can watch an afternoon Oscar contender movie and see friends and hopefully meet R & R's new baby and spend QT with our respective families and eat lots of good food and see Ping and Montréal I and and and...!
Tonight for dinner we had leftover brisket paninis with horseradish mayonnaise and cheddar cheese. Alongside leftover brussels sprouts & carrot casserole. So yum! I was looking forward to this alllll day:
Here are some photos of Daughter of Smoke & Bone author Laini Taylor's house in Portland:
I love it! She's pretty "Portland"-y. Her daughter is named Clementine and she has fluorescent pink hair. Like me, she can't resist a Shiny Brite ornament. Her home is filled with all manner of quirky cute knickknacks and tchotchkes which are set off beautifully with by the stark white walls. Looking at how all her collections can pop against that white background is making me regret (slightly) painting the grape wall in the Lil' Ugmo. White really does allow things to pop! But I do love the calming effect of the purple in Lil' Ugmo...so it will stay as-is (it better! After what we paid the painter!) I don't know that an all-white space is for me, but I do appreciate it, especially when people do it up as Liani does and use it as a backdrop for crazy, colorful and bright. I'm not a fan of stark, minimalist, white and wood Swedish style interiors. They're calming, but have no personality, to me.
Tomorrow I will hopefully have time to unleash a slew of pop culture reviews on you.
The Dotytron-Lagerfelds are going on vacation! Come March Break, we are headed to the Mayan Rivieria with Ehm-Do and Momma D and the Big Yam in tow! We decided on an all-inclusive vacation. Can I just say this: researching all-inclusives is one of the most taxing things I've ever done. It's about a million times harder than researching an à la carte vacation, where you book your hotel, flight, and activities separately. The variables involved are so frustrating! Especially when you're dealing with any constraint in any of the variables (different age groups wanting different activities, time of departure, length of stay, budget). It's insane.
And then on top of that, you have to deal with the loonies on Trip Advisor when you're cross-referencing your resort options. Trip Advisor reveals the worst in humanity, in my opinion. First of all, you have the people there whose MINDS ARE BLOWN because the staff will fold a towel into a swan and scatter a few perfunctory rose petals and who insist on lavishly documenting this phenomena and then POSTING THOSE PHOTOS FOR OTHER PEOPLE TO SEE. That makes NO SENSE to me! Are there actually people out there who consider "animal towel folding skills" a useful metric for determining a resort's suitability? Then there are the people who complain about a hotel being "too humid' or who are really, really desperate for a wide range of non-buffet restaurants, because for some reason, when they're in Mexico, they simply must taste Japanese food as envisioned by an underpaid Mexican hospitality worker? All I want is grilled fish and tacos. I also suspect, that the differences between the food at the "Italian," "French," or "Japanese" restaurants is on par with the difference between the pancakes at the International House of Pancakes - that is, purely a question of semantics. Finally, why do people on Trip Advisor insist on uploading their PERSONAL PHOTOS? Why do I want to see your snot nosed kid with his arm around the "entertainment" staff like they're best friends (you see "friendly, personable staff", I see "colonialism in action")? Why do I want to see your new bride posing in front of a non-descript hedge that could be anywhere?
Anyway, we're booked now and it's out of my hands. Although apparently Mexican laws have changed and because I had the temerity to not change my name when I got hitched and have a different last name than my son, I might need a signed, notarized letter saying that it's okay for us to be travelling (even though both parents are going)?
This is the time of year when I have mini-apoplectic rages each time I open the mailbox and come across yet another letter addressed to "Mr. & Mrs. The Dotytron" or "Family Dotytron." It is ALWAYS the Dotytron's side of the family. It ALWAYS drives me berserk.
I might have started a flame war with Momma D. Hahaha. She posted this thing from Ben Stein in "reaction" to the White House referring to their Christmas trees as "holiday trees" for the first time ever this year. Anyway, noted scholar and respected cultural critic (snick) Ben Stein allegedly had this to say:
"My confession:
I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejewelled trees, Christmas trees. I don’t feel threatened. I don’t feel discriminated against. That’s what they are, Christmas trees.
It doesn’t bother me a bit when people say, ‘Merry Christmas’ to me. I don’t think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn’t bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a crèche, it’s just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don’t like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don’t think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can’t find it in the Constitution and I don’t like it being shoved down my throat.
Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren’t allowed to worship God ? I guess that’s a sign that I’m getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it’s not funny, it’s intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham’s daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her ‘How could God let something like this happen?’ (regarding Hurricane Katrina).. Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, ‘I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we’ve been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?’
In light of recent events… terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O’Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn’t want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbour as yourself. And we said OK.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn’t spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock’s son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he’s talking about. And we said okay.
Now we’re asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don’t know right from wrong, and why it doesn’t bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.
Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with ‘WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.’
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world’s going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send ‘jokes’ through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing yet?
Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you’re not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it. Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
Pass it on if you think it has merit…
If not, then just discard it….. no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don’t sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
My Best Regards, Honestly and respectfully,
Ben Stein"
So basically I said on Momma D's Facebook, that Ben Stein DOESN'T BELIEVE IN EVOLUTION (he's also pro-life). Therefore, I don't consider him a reliable authority on well...anything. Furthermore, that saying that things like Hurricane Katrina and other atrocities happen because we've ejected god from schools and our lives is disrespectful and illogical. And that the idea that people can only get their moral compass from god (any god) is outright wrong.
This is how I feel when people get all uppity about you saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas":
The Big Yam is standing in for me.
Like seriously? Who cares? GUESS WHAT CHRISTIANS? YOU'RE NOT UNDER ATTACK. Relax. It's so childish to me. Like white supremacy (as a catch-all description) is changing in the wake of acceptance of the fact that we live in a multicultural society and there is a shift in the power dynamics (arguable, in terms of real power), and of course people get all up in arms because for once they're on the receiving end. How do you think all those First Nations that we shipped off to residential schools felt?!? Also, it's just so rich that THIS is an issue for Christmas defenders. Also, there is nothing remotely Christian about Christmas Trees so I feel like the entire Ben Stein essay is based on a faulty premise.
The above photo cracks me up. Poor, poor Miss J. Santa showed up for the party at one of the drop-in centres and that's the Big Yam losing his s**t. We've gotten grief from Momma D about not taking the Big Yam to have his picture taken with Santa, but the photo above encapsulates our opinions on the matter nicely. There is no way in hell that I would ever waste precious minutes of my life on what would be a traumatic experience for all involved. That is why Miss J is both a saint AND worth her weight in gold.
On Saturday we had the Annual Dotytron Family Christmas party, potluck style in Oakville. Nany made devilled eggs and I single-handedly ate at least 10. It was a feast for the ages! There was an unfortunate incident which will forthwith be referred to as "Butter Chicken Gate" but other than that, things went smoothly. Then Lolly and SMckay came over and this happened:
Yes, that is the limited-time special, Pizza Hut Hot Dog Stuffed Crust pizza (we got Canadian). We've decided that SMckay is going to do her co-op placement at Pizza Hut just to find out whether they use one giant long hot dog link or whether it's a bunch of cocktail weenies. Either way, delicious.
Sunday was a lazy, snoozy day. We had a Hanukkah meal with Dr. Rei and Uncle Hanbo. They got us Manischewitz which is basically like sour grape syrup. The meal was braised brisket (I tried a new recipe - Smitten's tangy braised brisket, which I didn't like as much as the brisket bourguignon I made last year), potato & parsnip latkes, and this brussels sprouts & carrot horseradish casserole dealie. I also made us apple cake with whiskey toffee sauce and ice cream.
The Dotytron is participating in a one-day, government sanctioned strike today. We thought it'd be so hilarious if he showed up to picket being like, "Stereotypical Strike Guy" - wearing a worn denim jacket, a fisherman's cap, fingerless gloves, and hauling an empty oil drum in the car to burn stuff in, and bringing an old ghetto blaster to play Bruce Springsteen on. LOL! Picturing him doing that is so funny! I feel like it's short film material.
Last night we had the Dotytron's colleague from last year's school and her husband over for dinner. We had the Chicago deep dish pizza that I had planned on serving on Friday night. Good save, us! With an arugala salad to cut the richness:
Then I had to listen to supremely nerdy classical music talk (one of them is a French horn player, the other one is a violinist). Stuff like: "You try playing a fugue at 14!" or "Like, I feel like he's the closest thing we have to a real, live wizard" (about some conductor I don't know or care about), or "Let's drink all of whatever we have in the house, and listen to Mahler until we pass out!" It was pretty nerdy and I ducked out early because I felt like my presence was just impeding the classical music dorkfest.
Finally, here is a bonus video of the Big Yam doing his legit Mandarin into his racist, fake Mandarin (at the 17 second mark):
I sat at my desk on Friday and wiped away tears and tried (unsuccessfully) to keep snot at bay as the stories from Newtown started to colonize my social media spaces. It was really hard then, and is really hard now, to not feel overcome thinking about how scared and frightened those little tykes were and the school teachers and administrators and the people in the town. Exhortations to hug your kids and loved ones ran rampant, and even I, staunch resister of all clichés that I am, came home and revelled in the fact that the Big Yam was there and safe and happy and unwilling to be hugged because he wanted to look at pictures of the moon on the iPad. Even the antidote memes that have floated around in the wake of Newtown (like this one about 26 Moments That Restored Our Faith in Humanity This Year, or photos of the first same-sex marriages performed in Washington state), have made me cry.
You have to believe that humanity is good. At the end of the day, I do (although reading the Huffington Post crime section challenges this belief). I think the coverage of these events and the rapaciousness of the 24-hour news cycle is disgusting and an enabler of this type of sociopathic behaviour, and yet, I couldn't stay away from the New York Times live updates.
I'm conflicted by my own degree of complicity with many facets of this problem and my sensitivity to the urban-rural divide that exists in gun discourse in Canada. However, I do not believe that gun control is a political issue, or should be. Technically, a lot of issues that shouldn't be political issues have become politicized because people are dummies, but still. Regulation is just that - regulation and I think the idea of stricter controls on guns should be something that is supported by gun enthusiasts and pacifists in equal measure. The idea of having a constitutionally protected right to own "arms" is one of the most asinine things I've ever heard of, and makes me grateful for the the relative youth of our Charter here in Canada.
In the meantime, I'm channelling all my inner rage and feelings of powerlessness towards a renewed hatred of the Westboro Baptist Church. On the topic of complicity though, do I contribute to the societal conditions that allow for sociopathic behaviour when I say that I wish members of the Westboro Baptist Church would be cursed with adult hand, foot, and mouth disease? Does that make me a bad person? A really bad person? Or an awful person? I don't know. I have a feeling it does.
I ended up cancelling my plans to have the gals from Canoe over on Friday night because I was so depressed about what had happened that day in the news. I really just wanted to be with the Dotytron and the Big Yam and to sit with them on the couch and feel warm and secure in Lil' Ugmo and feeling very, very lucky for the opportunity to do so.
my name is karl lagerfeld. i'm a lucky button, buckshot shorty, and an industrious pig. i write about food, popular culture, film, books, politics, theory, and the ephemera of my life. a can of chinotto once ruined my night. the rest, as they say, is history.
