materfamilias writes

The Eleventh Hour . . .

2012-01-28T09:55:00.000-08:00

When Raquelita, the Running Historian, tagged me for an "11 Random Things" meme last week (and go check out hers -- the questions, answers, and revelations are interesting and fun), I decided to pick up the challenge. While I've generally been of a mind to ignore memes this past while, it's been quite some time since I've done one and perhaps newer readers don't know all my oddities yet. And perhaps those of you who have stuck with me for a while have forgotten some. And perhaps I've come up with new random "things about me" since the last time I did this.

However, I can't imagine tagging the requisite 11 fellow bloggers, having tagged some in the past and knowing how busy everyone is. I'm only going to tag a very few and hope other readers might decide the challenge is fun -- If you do, please let me know and I'll link to your post.

The rules are:
1. Post these rules
2. You must post 11 random things about yourself
3. Answer the questions set for you in their post
4. Create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer
5. Go to their blog and tell them you’ve tagged them
6. No stuff in the tagging section about you are tagged if you are reading this. You legitimately have to tag people! (As you can see above, I'm bending the tagging rules. Ooooh, the rebel yell!)

First, then, eleven random things about me:
1. I grew up with eleven younger siblings.
2. My "baby sister" is 15 years younger than I am, 8 years older than my daughter, her niece.
3. My mother and my father each came from families with ten children -- my dad was the youngest of his, my mother the third youngest, so I had many, many older aunts and uncles, and at least 50 cousins on each side of the family.
4. By now, it might not surprise you to learn that I was raised Catholic.
5. I dropped out of university during my second year, somehow managing to pass two of the courses without taking the final exam. I didn't formally withdraw, and it took a few years to get past those Fs on my transcript.
6. I was over 40 when I completed my BA, over 50 when I defended my PhD dissertation.
7. I once accidentally kicked a hole in a wall in our house. It would take longer than I want to explain this to you, but it's a true story. And it truly was an accident. There was frustration and sleep deprivation involved and I was standing too close to a wall and the heel I jerked up and backwards punched right into the drywall. I was teased for years . . .
8. I've watched the complete series of Buffy 7 or 8 times and Angel 5 or 6, have a paper on the shows in a forthcoming anthology and will present another paper at an upcoming conference. Bit of a fan.
9.The first perfume I ever bought for myself was Ma Griffe.
10. I met my husband through friends and wangled another chance to visit with him by offering to type (on my Royal manual typewriter) a paper for him.
11. Travelling in Britain on my own as a 14-year old, I arrived at the train station in London puzzled that no relative was there to pick me up, even though I'd written to say when my Glasgow relative was putting me on the train, when I'd arrive, etc. After my initial panic, and after waiting a reasonable period, I decided to take one of those big black cabs, confidently giving my aunt's address and reassuring myself that I surely had enough cash for the ride. As we drove up to the address I'd given, I heard myself saying "209" instead of "109" and realized why they hadn't yet got my letter -- and why they hadn't met me. I learned a valuable lesson I rely on still -- if you're lost, a taxi driver can rescue you and it only costs money!

RANDOM enough for you? Okay, now to answer Raquelita's questions.

1. If you had to enter a different profession from your current one, what would it be?
Hmmmm, had to? Let's pretend the question is "got to" -- I think it might be fun to try a stint in fashion retail, something completely different. Or editing/publishing. We once came very close to buying a bookstore (a 12th random thing!), and I would have loved running it, but thank goodness it didn't work out given the financial perils of such a venture these days.
2. Apart from running, what is your favorite way to work out?
I really enjoy walking, and I love the way I feel by the end of my Pilates Reformer classes
3. Would you consider yourself a dog person or a cat person and do you think this reflects in any of your other personality traits?
Definitely more a dog person, although we've had a cat in the house for almost 30 years now (two, in succession). I'm sure it does reflect personality traits, but couldn't specify which.
4. If you could spend the day with one celebrity, who would it be and why?
Kim Raver (of Grey's Anatomy), especially if I could spend that day with her in Paris, because I once saw her there when Paul and I were having coffee with my friend Andrea, and she was so fluently French-speaking that Paul and Andrea were trying to convince me I was mistaken. And then she switched into English and I was vindicated. I was intrigued by how she could be herself on those streets, escaping any fans, and would love to chat with her about what the city represents to her.
Of course, there are also good reasons for wanting to spend such a day with, oh, say, Salman Rushdie, but I'd be terrified of keeping up intellectually. Diana Athill, whose memoir I'm currently reading. . . I have to admit, though, that I'm pretty skeptical about that whole notion of spending a limited time with a celebrity -- I think such meetings would be fraught, awkward, and generally I'd be just as happy watching or reading their work from a more comfortable distance.
5. What is your favorite thing to cook?
I love the process of stirring a risotto -- it's slow-cooking at its best, I think, with that patience resulting in a magic transformation. But I'm also very proud of my pie crust and enjoy putting together blackberry pie in the summer, knowing how much it will be enjoyed.
6. Where did you grow up?
In New Westminster, BC, a small city near Vancouver.
7. What is the last book that you read?
I juggled two novels last week, and can't remember which got finished first: either Timothy Taylor's Story House which I reread for my class, or Michael Ondaatje's Cat's Table.
8. Why did you go to the college that you attended?
Oh, my transcript is such a patchwork, with at least 5 different institutions. But all were chosen for pragmatic reasons -- I needed to make my mature-student-return-to-school work with my family life

9. What is your favorite kind of ice cream?
Baskin Robbins chocolate peanut butter, the kind that has chunks of peanut butter in it, used to be my favourite, altho' I have no idea if they even make it anymore. There's a local company The Udder Guys that makes a magical Coconut flavour. If pressed, I'd call that a current favourite.

10. If money were no object and there was no need for concern about exploitative means of production or harm to the environment, what would you splurge on?
I'd fly all my kids, partners, granddaughter to Paris to join us in the several apartments we would rent so that we could show them what we love about the city. Then we'd follow it up with a week or two at a French Meditteranean chateau, poolside, so they could see another side of the country.

11. Why did you decide to start blogging?
After the dissertation process, I really wanted to get my inner editor off my back, and I wanted to find ways toward a more integrated life. The academic one seemed often to push my personal life out of the picture -- conversely, those in my immediate personal life rarely heard much about my academic life. Not sure I've managed that integration, but I do think I've loosened up my voice a bit, made it more my own, and I know that has translated into my academic writing.
12. What did you eat for breakfast?
Haven't had it yet -- waiting for my guy to come back with the Saturday papers and we'll probably

AND FINALLY, the eleven questions I'll set for the bloggers I'll tag AND any others who wish to pick up this challenge:
1. What was your favourite film last year and why?
2. If money were no object, where would you spend your next vacation? and why?
3. Describe the earliest meal you can remember enjoying.
4. If you were dividing domestic chores with a new roommate, which ones would you try to claim?
5. Do you play a musical instrument? If so, which one?
6. When you're bothered by prolonged muscle or joint soreness that's interfering with your workout plans, do you visit a General Physician, a Chiropractor, a Physiotherapist, or a Massage Therapist?
7. What activities do you hope will sustain you throughout your 80s and 90s?
8. What was the first important car in your life?
9. What was the most significant course you ever took?
10. If you had the resources, which elementary or high school classmate would you try to track down, and why?
11. Which chef would you like to have come to your house to prepare a meal for your guests -- or, alternatively, give you a cooking lesson in that chef's professional kitchen?

I'm going to tag Lorrie of Fabric, Paper, Thread and Blue Jeans & Black Coffee, both fairly new-to-me bloggers that I'd like to know more about. And Hostess of the Humble Bungalow because she's always such a good sport and we grew up not so far apart in place and time. I'd love to see IndigoAlison reveal her answers and know she'd come up with some great questions. . . But I know we're all very busy and I'll understand if any of you say no. And if you aren't tagged, but would like to take on this meme, let me know and I'll link you up!

January? Paris the Thought . . .

2012-01-26T08:24:00.000-08:00

More Paris graffiti and mural art because, well, it's still January and I think daydreaming about a Paris May will help me get through winter here . . . and if I can help you do the same, well here I am!
Above, an amusing but pointed Belleville mural found near this cluster of fairly aggressive graffiti. The French says, roughly, about the "frogs" . . . "Because they are born free and equal" . . . seeming to allude, sarcastically, to rights of citizenship.

Sticking to a politics of fun, our umbrella man, seen previously here and here

cycles a tightrope across the side of a building.

Moving back toward central Paris, we found a building adorned with poetry, an ode to Vowels

Click to enlarge and piece the poem together

and if you click on these, and turn your head sideways,

you can read the artist's signature. . .

This little stencilled fellow, whose like in various places delights the observant eye, is peeling away. Soon, perhaps, just his feet and legs will be left, perhaps a portion of his wig . . .

No worries, though, because there are reassuring rainbows to distract us from the loss . . .

(Can you imagine what it's like for poor Pater, travelling with me? We stop so often on our walks, and he waits patiently as I fumble for my camera!)

But how can one resist? This gorgeous relief flower and leaves, for example, enhancing the less obvious mural that grows above it, tulips stretching to the blue sky.

By now, if you're curious about our route, we've moved all the way over to the 2nd, where Rue Montmartre and Rue Reaumur intersect.

Let's end our tour with some music, shall we?

Ah, that feels better. Just what I needed to boost my January morning. And when I look outside, that morning has spiffed itself up quite nicely. The sun is shining, illuminating the snow on the Coastal Mountains across the Strait from us, sealions are playing some sort of game (frankly, it looks curiously like Ring Around the Rosy) in our little bay, and I have a very cool guest speaker coming to my class today. Looking good! And the weekend's almost here. . .

What about you? Are you weathering January alright? Did that hit of Paris help at all?

Paris Transformations. . .

2012-01-23T19:19:00.000-08:00

Back in November, my photos of graffiti in Paris' Belleville neighbourhood elicited mixed reaction. To put these scenes in a fuller context, I wanted to come back and give you an idea of the gentrification that seems to be slowly transforming this area, an area that has historically been much more affordable, supporting many, many immigrants, particularly African ones.

Recently, its reasonable rents have made it attractive to artists and young people -- Petite Anglaise blogged about it and then turned that blogging into a book; Elizabeth Bard's Lunch in Paris captures the street scenes and markets beautifully.

But as the artists move in, along with the upwardly mobile youngsters, the cool factor rises, and construction sites replace old with new. . .

And some of the new will, yes, offer social housing, as the sign below announces proudly. . .

but historic buildings and tiny alleyways are "condemned because of the construction/works," -- as we found to our disappointment when the walk we'd been trying to trace was dead-ended by this affiche.

Still, as sad I am to see less fortunate inhabitants being pushed aside and heritage areas lost to "progress," I fell in love with this building several blocks away. We're always struck by the vibrancy of London's skyline, its moving-forward chaotic energy which can make Paris' prettiness, albeit well-loved by both of us, a bit safe, a lot conservative. . . But check this out. . .

I love the way those pastel & concrete-coloured slices engage with the grey geometries in the foreground.

This building, by architect Freédéric Borel, has been here since 1999, and it strikes me as meeting a need for new housing in a manner that completely reinterprets, yet respects, Paris' aesthetics. . . after all, it's still beautiful, non?

Haussmann, of course, didn't leave his stamp out here in the 20th. The streets are free from that imposing regularity that gives much of Paris its comforting, uniform beauty. But I think these lines, the interactions of colour (and with the sky -- glorious!) the lightness of the glass chatting with the heavier concrete, are quite lovely in their own way.

As you can see, we had to circle the block to get images from different directions -- you can see why. I had to follow that orange-red box.

Look how it beckons from a distance!

A different Paris, perhaps, than we generally see, but a vibrant and engaging part of the city. It took us until our 9th visit to finally get up that hill, but we'll try to get back there this spring (about which, more later . . .)

What do you think? If you've been to Paris, have you made it up to Belleville/Menilmontant? Did you like? If not, do these photos challenge your ideas of what Paris looks like? In a good way? Or . . . ?

Island Tour, Snowy Days, Almost Done . . .

2012-01-22T08:10:00.000-08:00

The snow is completely gone here, save the much-diminished clumps representing an attempt at snowman-making. Yesterday, there was just enough on the roads to have welded the rain in an icy grip that caught me as I tried to run, brought me to the ground with a thump. I hobbled back home for ice in a more controllable form, the icepack. I'm trying again today, daring to power my way through winds already howling and predicted to get into the 60-80kmh range. Weather!

But I have a last few shots of Wednesday's late afternoon walk around the island's winter prettiness. I love the way certain colours stand out against the snow -- this green metal roof against the house's deep barn red.

And simple architectural lines gain strength, as in this deck and its stairs, through the snow's bold emphasis.

I'd never before noticed that this evergreen had been trimmed to mimic the house's triangular upper.

And you know I can't resist Hermès orange -- finding Paris in the unlikeliest places!

You can see the dusk is falling now, there's one of our few island "streetlights" winking on to the right in the photo above, and my camera shutter has to stay open longer to capture a non-flash image, introducing some blur into these. . .

Still, I love this evocative photo, an invitation and a barring all at once, a challenge . . .

And these last two, far too much blur, but I couldn't resist posting these -- this Dad had hurried home after work, taking advantage of the day's last light to give his small daughter (the blur of pink on the sled below) a few runs down Snowball Hill . . .

Clearly, we've wrung the pleasures from a few inches of snow. We're back to normal now, rain and wind, bluster and muddy roads, grey skies and stormy seas. Ah well, as we say on the West Coast, as least we don't have to shovel it . . . .

Coming up: Having spent so much time wandering around the island with me this week, you've got a quick trip to Paris coming up soon -- I decided it was time to switch focus and show you how cosmopolitan Mater can be. Watch this space!

Still Winter!

2012-01-20T10:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's snow photos were all taken in my garden. A bit later, I headed off for a walk round our little island, keeping the camera ready for palette inspirations and the lovely calming effects of snow.

I know these weeds are scrubby, but the hint of red in the dried fern's brown appeals to me.

As do the slender spikes of a sedge grass . . .

What about the elegant geometries of this evergreen?

And the classic "pop of red"!

Below, it becomes obvious how beautifully brown and red work together . . .

Tired of snow photos yets? Our white landscape is being eroded by nastily icy rain, accompanied by some heavy wind. I know it won't be enough to close our campus, but it's making the roads and parking lots hazardous. I can't help regretting my afternoon commitment to a volunteer Book Club I instituted for International students who want to talk about books without enduring the discomfort of marks, essay-writing, etc. I enjoy the students' enthusiasm, of course, but today would have been a stay-at-home day otherwise, and now I'll be walking up those slippery hills to campus (unless the roads are better than I think they are, in which case I'll drive, nervously).

Still, it's pretty for the moment. . . And perhaps the rains will clear a path for my long run this weekend. What about you . . . any weekend plans?

Winter Pretty . . .

2012-01-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

I have to admit I was tempted to stay inside all day yesterday, enjoying the pretty snow views from the comfort of my armchair.

But I finally roused myself and got outside with my camera in the late afternoon (after a nap -- love to grab an afternoon nap when the opportunity presents itself!).

Garden details draw attention to themselves

Intricate botanical sculptures outlined with snow's extravagant strokes

Fascinating and seductive . . .

Delicate structures invite . . .

insist on a closer examination. . .

classic colour combinations seem like brilliant revelations. . .

Clichés repeat the secret of their success . . .

Oh, and I'm not done yet. . . There are many more photos from that afternoon walk and I may ~~subject you to~~ share some with you tomorrow. Got some pretty snow where you are? Or so much you're weary of it by now? Or not enough, or none at all? I'll be honest and say I'm counting on rain taking ours away in time for my Saturday run, Sunday at the outside. What's the weather situation where you are?

Natural Wardrobe Inspirations . . .

2012-01-18T07:48:00.000-08:00

SQUEEE! Woot! Woot! I'm in such a good mood because we have a snow closure on our campus. I can play hooky, legally! So it's a day of reading, some knitting, and even a walk in the snow with my camera later to collect some pretty photos to show you.

But it's too early for that right now. . . the sun's not even up. Instead, I thought I'd show you some images from the other day when some paddlers stopped their outrigger to take a wee break. I was struck by how closely the palette resembled my red-jeans-outfit. Go, have a look if you can't remember. See what I mean.

Oh, what the heck. Here, I'll post a shot right here.

See what I mean? The steely grey in the jersey could be drawn from that dark just at the horizon, and the taupe is clearly from the rocks. You can't see the necklace's ochre beads well, but they echo the tone of the logs in the shot above.

And while it was the outrigger's red that brought the outfit to mind, I realized that the red inspiration was already in the landscape, if less prominently. . .

Fun to recognize the way Nature influences my wardrobe. . . .

Oh, and before I go, if you click to enlarge the photo below, you'll see the heads of at least four sealions. We think they're here because the herring are arriving, although it does seem earlier than other years. . . and they've stopped their honking for the time being.

But perhaps the snow will get them going again. I'll be off for a walk in it today; pretty easy to imagine the primary influence snow will have on my clothing choices (hint, layers, wool, snuggly stuff!), but I wonder what colours the snow's white will emphasize, what lingering influences that wintry landscape will have on my wardrobe palette. . .

Do you think your surroundings influence the way you combine colours in your dress? or in your home?

Wearing Red, Visible Monday Style . . .

2012-01-16T13:37:00.000-08:00

When I Tweeted last Monday that I was wearing red pants and nobody had commented, I really wasn't expressing disappointment at the lack of attention ('cause that would make me quite the Narcissist, no?).

Rather, having bought these JBrand skinny jeans (the mid-rise Skinny, super-comfortable) at 50% off while Mother-Daughter shopping the weekend before, I had braced myself for some teasing. And I worried that the lack of any commentary at all meant that the look was so egregious that folks were practising that admonition, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

But perhaps the outfit sparked no disapproval because I kept the colour on the bottom and balanced it with neutrals on top. I was pleased with this approach and really liked grounding the combo with my black patent brogues.

And the little splash of red from a favourite souvenir of Lisbon, a necklace by that city's Carla Amaro for a gesture toward Imogen's "column of colour"

Still, as toned down as I tried to make the ensemble, the jeans are still RED. What better candidate for Visible Monday? I've been noting some marvelous use of colour over there the last little while. Be sure to check out what's going on this week.

The Rundown?
Red jeans, JBrand; Steel-grey Jersey top, Sandwich (2nd-year); Club Monaco cashmere cardi (3rd-year); Bravo (Browns) black patent brogues (3rd-year);

Pathways to Perspective . . .

2012-01-15T09:11:00.000-08:00

Generally, I'm a fairly busy, disciplined, and productive sort although I tend to accuse myself regularly of laziness (that's a long story, going back, as they do, to my childhood: eldest daughter of large family). I comment here regularly about how busy I am/feel during term when there's always something else to mark or to read or to write. . .

But I do know how to grab sanity in the small moments. In between the weightier, more literary reads, I often have a mystery escape on the go. Above, my Kobo Vox screen features Val McDermid's Trick of the Dark which I disappeared into for the duration of ferry crossings twice daily last week. And even added an extra session before classes one day, topping it with the complementary treats of pastry (that's a Brioche with custard & fruit -- mmmm!) and great coffee. . .

Pausing to let the surrounding beauty permeate my spirit, slow my breathing, and expand my perspective is another pathway to contentment. . .

And family, of course, especially in this wee package

As I remember, it was an important business call . . .

Ah yes, again I feel the stresses of the upcoming week recede . . .

What about you? What's keeping you balanced, content, sane?

Random Happenings

2012-01-13T17:39:00.000-08:00

During term, when my reading and writing energies are primarily directed otherwise, I often despair of finding time to post. And since getting hooked on Twitter earlier this summer, I often wish I could keep in touch with my blogging community in as few words as I do there -- 140 characters max. Not only is the brevity appealing, but I appreciate Twitter for not requiring me to make my various observations cohere. No integrating narrative necessary. Random insights accepted.

If I could do that in this space, I could tell you that

Today 3 sea lions began barking in raucous harmony not 75 metres from our front door. We have no idea why, but turns out Paul watched/heard them do the same thing yesterday. Both days, it began about 11 am, happened in sporadic 5 to 15-minute bursts for a few hours, then today, the 3 were joined half an hour ago by another 3 or 4 for an even noisier chorus. Magical mystery!

We have enjoyed astonishing and dramatic conversations between the full moon, an assembly of clouds, and a moodily reflective night-black sea over the past few evenings.

My run today incorporated 560+ stairs which warmed me up quite nicely against the hovering-around-zero temps. I'm hoping to fit in the weekend long run (between 16-20 kilometres scheduled for this week) tomorrow morning. We're bracing for a possible snowfall in the next few days and I'm hoping it won't interfere with training for an upcoming Half Marathon I'm running with my sisters.

I've spent much of today writing a review of an anthology of literary criticism. The review is for a scholarly press and it's due on Monday. All the reading's been done, and much of the thinking, and now I have 612 of max. 700 words done, in a Word file. Given that I still have 200 words of content I want to deliver, tomorrow will involve considerably cutting, swearing, and gnashing of teeth.

I started a new knitting project -- a man's vest striped with gorgeous Noro Silk Garden. To immediately answer Kristen's anticipated question, no I haven't finished my dress, but I need some mindless stocking stitch knitting to work on while we watch Sons of Anarchy. And, tonight, Grimm. Anyone else watching either of those?

And if that's not enough Random for you, or if you're feeling peeved that there's no visual component to this post, how about a very cute litte girl wearing fake glasses?

And now, having closed my Word file, composed a Very Random blog post, it's time to pour a glass of red and let the weekend begin. Has yours started yet?

My Daughter, the Poser . . . and a Cowl

2012-01-11T16:19:00.000-08:00

It's a good thing this girl has taken up knitting because she has a tendency to wheedle my projects right out of my hands. Take, for instance, this cowl I knit up from some gorgeous yarn (60% wool, 30% alpaca, with 5% each silk & mohair) hand-spun, hand-dyed by my neighbour Liz, the marvellous Island Weaver. Well, yes, Take, she did. . .

To be fair, I'd already asked birthday girl (this one's next older sis) if she'd wear it and got a clear "no" -- a bit too funky for that one. So Daughter #3 stepped up quickly and that puppy was hers!

Can you tell she has a playful spirit and doesn't mind a bit of attention?

And can you tell those are the hands of a Registered Massage Therapist? I know, scary, eh?

She did finally settle down and pose properly. Thank you, dear. . .

A frivolous post -- hope you don't mind. Frightfully busy with new classes around here -- but exhilarated with them, so that's all good. What's up with you? Hope it's all good as well. . .

Mama Visibility, Shopping with Daughter

2012-01-09T07:04:00.000-08:00

We had such a full and satisfying family weekend in Vancouver! It began when I arrived Friday evening and Paul (who'd gone over the day before for a meeting) suggested dinner at La Brasserie on Davie. My bouillabaisse wasn't as good as usual, but the wine was and it was good to unwind together, talking about our respective weeks. And instead of going out to a movie, as we'd originally planned, we decided not to brave the rain but to head back home and watch Sons of Anarchy on DVD.

Then Saturday morning, Paul set off to put the evening's meal together while I headed out to meet our January birthday girl for some gift shopping. This kind of outing involves a different kind of visibility: I feel conscious of walking a fine line, not wanting to look as if I'm trying to dress as young as my daughters, but at the same time wanting to dress smartly enough that there won't be any eye-rolling. (Although, to be fair, those days are pretty much long gone, they did leave their mark). Plus shopping comfort is key, as are changeroom-friendly clothes. . . . Overall, though, it's the outer layers that count, really, for a few hours in and out of the shops. I always have a lightweight but warm scarf against the inevitable wind, gloves against cold rain, and a bag big enough to throw both in when I'm overheating inside a mall. . .

And yes, we did find the birthday girl a gift -- a slightly blingy rose-gold Fossil watch that she's been eyeing. We shopped Sephora where my bag somehow filled with the Nars Orgasm Blush, some Fresh sugar lip polish, two new Lancome lipsticks. Then the very dangerous Aritzia post-Christmas sale . . .I don't have to tell you everything, right?

All in all, a lovely shopping expedition of Mother-Daughter Visibility (followed Saturday evening by all three daughters, one son-in-law, and a granddaughter joining us to fête the Birthday Daughter over curry and cupcakes).

And the outfit rundown?
Charcoal Knit Skirt, Club Monaco; Grey Sweater (peeking below jacket hem) also Club Monaco;
boots, Acne; leather jacket, Mackage; bag, M0851; red leather gloves, Winners; red alpaca handknit lace scarf, made by me several years ago.

I'm linking up again to Patti's marvelous round-up over at Visible Monday. Be sure to pop over there and check out all the ways we women of a certain age are keeping it visible.

Oh, and it's actually my daughter's birthday today -- Happy Birthday, Rhiannon! I won't repeat the praises I've sung about her/you in earlier posts, here, here, and here, but they're all still true and more.

Brightening Winter Days . . .

2012-01-06T12:23:00.000-08:00

Temperatures have barely dipped below freezing here, but we've had wind-and-rainstorms to show us that winter still has teeth. And grey. Much grey.

But many years ago, I filled my garden with a secret winter weapon -- winter-flowering fragrant plants. These only work in fairly moderate climates, of course. Don't try this at home, kiddies, if you're in the central Prairies, northern Quebec. . . pretty much anyplace in the great cold middle of our continent, as well as its more northerly borders. I'm lucky enough to live in what Canadians tend to sneer at, somewhat, as LotusLand -- and on my little island, winter's chills tend to be softened most of the time by the maritime influence.

Which allows my spirit-lifting Viburnum bodnantense, 'Dawn' to bloom anytime from November through March -- a wonderfully scented, delicately coloured antidote to grey, damp cold. I've posted about it before, perhaps every single blogging year it's bloomed -- I won't apologize. It deserves attention every single year. Trumpets, maybe. It's that sublime. . .

Also worthy of trumpets, truly, are the green buds I spotted swelling up on the Ribes sanguineum (Flowering Red Currant). . .

the magical whorls of Mahonia japonica, ready to deliver some buttery-yellow fragrance sometimes later this month . . .

Various hellebores all about the garden, many of them descendants from other gardens I love (Phil's, Alison's, my mom & dad's). In fact, you could visit one of those gardens and check out the most wonderfully fragrant winter-flowering witch-hazel you're ever likely to meet -- and meet a gardening friend of mine, Jane, who writes beautifully, if far too sporadically.

And winter's colours and scents aren't all borrowed from the more forward-looking seasons, but they also hold memories of last year's sunshine -- these purple berries on the Callicarpa shrub being a glorious example. . .

And even the much more commonplace Skimmia brightens the landscape. . .

We're away from the garden this weekend, in Vancouver celebrating a daughter's birthday, but I think we'll take a walk and see what's blooming, berrying, and wafting fragrance in the parks. And Paul, who got over here before me, had white tulips waiting in a vase, so there's a winter garden of sorts inside. In what form is Nature and her creations charming you this winter day? Or is she sending you back under the covers? I'm curious to know how different our winter experiences are, all over our widely spread community. Do leave a comment and let me know . . .

It's Over . . .and It's Started!

2012-01-05T07:16:00.000-08:00

It's all cleared away, although there's a container of mincemeat in the fridge, several more of turkey soup in the freezer, to remind us that Christmas was here. While I was putting together course outlines in my office Monday afternoon, Paul was dismantling the tree, packing up the ornaments, and clearing the many candles back to their drawers. I came out of my room to a more mundane life, but one that is also much less cluttered.

He kept up this de-cluttering kick for a few days, moving several wheelbarrows of old electronics to the recycling centre in town -- he even took my nearly-dead old computer to town and arranged to have photos retrieved from it onto a disc and then have it wiped clean and recycled. A relief, as that has been sitting in a large box at the top of the stairs for over eighteen months now.

I'm not so organized on the home front, but have plunged back into the teaching year, and we're off to a great start -- I've already had several lively discussions about literature with my students, including some time with this poem, Winter, by Billy Collins, to which my attention was directed by a delightful community over at Twitter. A group of Tweeps (or Twiends or simply Tweet-ers -- new vocabularies are in development!) have been tweeting a line or two, or an image, or a link, of poetry, using the hashtag #todayspoem. Read more about this here, at founder Bookgaga's blog.

Speaking of reading, I did do some housecleaning. . . I organized my Books Read in 2011 list over at my other blog. If you're interested, wander over and have a peek. I always welcome comments, especially if you've read some of the same titles.

And now I'd better get ready to catch a ferry -- the holiday's definitely over and the workday schedule prevails -- that's okay, though. As my Grandpa always used to say "A Change is as Good as a Rest" (yeah, I never really believe it either . . .)
Meanwhile, tell me, is 2011 packed away at your house, and has 2012 caught you up in its whirlwind already?

*Don't worry, the little cat ornament got rescued before the tree was disposed of. He does look a bit surprised and aggrieved to find himself out in the cold. . .

End-of-Holiday Visibility . . What I Wore . . .

2012-01-01T17:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes for me, Visibility comes in risking being more dressed up than our island lifestyle dictates. Given that I previously wore this dress to the opera, I did wonder if I could wear it to a New Year's Day brunch a girlfriend was hosting on the island. But how many dress-up occasions are there in life? And aren't the holiday celebrations over too quickly and we're back to workaday wear?

So I wore this extravagantly-printed dress anyway -- its cut and its wonderfully comfortable knit fabric are casual enough. And it tones down a wee bit under my leather jacket.

Heels would have been too much, so I stuck with the Repetto tap heels I picked up this spring. Always good to wear a little Paris, right?

Recap then: Dress, Simon Chang; leather jacket, Mackage; shoes, Repetto . . . couldn't be easier, really!

I've been working all day on preparing this week's classes, thinking about the new term ahead (and, um, maybe tweeting a little -- I'm loving Twitter these days!), and so I haven't yet checked out what Patti's got happening over at Visible Monday. But I know it will be a fun collection of looks to get this leap year going. I'm heading over there now . . . follow me?

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T17:24:00.000-08:00

I wasn't going to bother posting again today, but somehow came across last year's New Year's post which featured the sea, sky, and boats right in front of our place. A bit earlier today, I'd Tweeted this photo above, taken today, of some energetic outrigger paddlers starting the year out right. And I thought it might be fun to begin a new tradition (although whether I remember this next New Year's remains to be seen!), so I can compare New Year's seascape shots here from year to year. Obviously, it's cloudier today than it was last New Year's -- wonder what it will be like next year. . .

And posting today allows me to maintain another blogging tradition -- my New Year's reference to this 2008 New Year's post, a wish inspired by a colleague that we all might resolve to Want what we Have! It still seems quite eminently sensible and worthy a goal to me (and perhaps you won't be surprised to know that I managed to work Paris in). Happy 2012!

A Sparkly New Year . . .

2011-12-30T16:01:00.000-08:00

You want to pick up a bottle of bubbly to see the New Year in, but the Old Year has wrung your wallet empty? My lovely someday daughter-in-law, who recently passed the final exam of a demanding series of courses, qualifying as a Sommelier (We are SO proud of her!), complimented my accidental good taste last week. Picking up a bottle of the Cristalino Cava I'd picked up at the liquor store (because at that price, why not?), she exclaimed, "Oh, this is my favourite budget sparkling -- a great buy!"

So I thought I'd pass that tip along to you. Now let's live this last day of 2011 as well as we can, before getting on with 2012, shall we? Any plans to carpe this diem? I'm going for a run myself, then a little reading, a little knitting, a big breakfast, the papers, a long nap if I'm lucky, before my man and I settle down with a pile of DVDs, a good meal, and a bottle of Pinot. What are you up to? Do tell.

And Another One Catches the Knitting Bug . . .

2011-12-29T20:05:00.000-08:00

I'm getting to the end of my favourite Christmas images, even as we begin to near the end of the leftovers in the fridge. Turkey sandwiches, roast pork curries, ham cubed up for pasta sauces . . . these are beginning to yield to stock simmering on the stove, and lentils, kale, beets, and turnips are starting to replace candied yams on the table. The tree is still up, but boxes and wrapping paper have been broken down, crumpled up, and hauled to town for recycling. I've started prepping course outlines and writing up lectures for next week's classes.

But there's still time for reading freely; there are still a few chocolates to nibble while reading (and beautiful cheeses to spread on savoury crackers); and instead of designing new assignments, I devoted much of today to overcoming the challenge I've had shaping the armholes and readying myself to knit up the yoke of this great dress (mine will be a black-white tweed). I'm so grateful I've got fabulous support at my Local Yarn Store (Mad About Ewe) -- thanks Lynette!

As I struggle with a pattern's momentary complexities, anticipating the pleasure of wearing something I made, I'm smiling to think of Daughter #3 taking one step closer to the rabbithole of a true knitting addiction. Last year she made a scarf in the few minutes she could find between studying for her RMT certification. Then last month she told me she'd like to make socks. Okay, that's a bit of a leap, missy! But a fabulous cowl would be a satisfying step toward that goal -- it's got her confidently moving between knit and purl stitches, and she can now understand circular knitting so that the double-points won't be bewildering. I can't wait to see her wearing the cowl -- I anticipate a big smile of pride accessorizing the garment. . .

And instead of knitting Christmas surprises for her in the future, I can enjoy picking out the yarns and patterns, then sitting back and watching her do the work. Plus a Massage Therapist with a good solid understanding of a knitter's problems? Sounds good to me!

Little Toy Trains, Little Toy Tracks . . .

2011-12-28T12:19:00.000-08:00

Besides gathering our bunch around a DoodleArt poster, Christmas has once again pulled some of us down to the floor for some train time. I was pleased to see this tradition continue from last year, when it was resumed after more than a decade. . .

We added some fun pieces to our 30-year old Brio set (the newer pieces are actually Brio-compatible, as the toystore we popped into doesn't carry the original) not only to entice Nola but also to ensure she got some help from the grown-ups. Sure enough, the uncles got drawn in. . .

Unlike the Lionel trains of my youth (and now we're talking 50 years ago . . . ), these wooden trains don't require little ones to stand back, admiring, but rather encourage equal participation. Little Girl is clearly thrilled to have such keen playmates.

And Nana couldn't help but be moved, remembering this big guy, not so long ago, really?

on the floor imagining whistle stops and mountain passes. . . .

Clearly, he's retained some fond memories of those playdays himself, setting up some dramatic heights to challenge any "I think I can" little engine . . .

Nana's not completely unhappy that those days are over. It's fun to have dinosaurs and stuffed toys and giant balls and trainsets all over the livingroom. But it's rather satisfying to tuck it all away in the toybox again and know it will stay there for weeks and weeks . . .

What disarray did you enjoy over the holiday, knowing it would be cleared away in a few days?

Christmas Doodle-ing

2011-12-27T22:00:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it was the example of Nola's focus on the simplicity of one gift, one activity, but I was amazed by how successful this DoodleArt poster was in drawing everyone together. I'd wrapped one for Daughter # 3 (above), and when she opened it, her older sister exclaimed immediately that she'd loved the DoodleArts she'd had as a child. Out of some magical intuition, I had bought another poster and tucked it away in my just-in-case closet, and I whisked it out and set up a doodle-ing station at the dining table.

My son-in-law doodled while he talked to his family, far away. . .

Two daughters (one wasn't here this Christmas, sadly) and a someday daughter-in-law consulted on colours, negotiated doodle-ing territory, and admired results. . .

Little Girl worked nearby on a project of her own with her fine new set of pencil crayons (24!) . . .

Four . . .

Then five artists clustered around the table, proving that childhood activities become even better with beer. . (although, unfortunately, even that beer wasn't enough to lure in my son, only sons-in-law).

First son-in-law even absconded with the poster for a while, moving it over to the grand piano top -- the girls tried to rouse my indignation at this chancy use of the surface, but they were on their own for that one.

I love the way each of these photos shows the image becoming more colourful, with Meg and Joey left to work out the remainder on Boxing Day. I also love the concentration on all the faces above -- it reminds me a tiny bit of the sense of responsibility I once felt tackling a brand new Paint-by-Numbers canvas, decades and decades ago, that rich, vaguely intimidating yet wonderfully adult, professional smell of the oil paints. It reminds me as well of watching my younger siblings opening a new crayoning book and a brand new box of Crayola. Then, last round, my own children and their friends with crayons, projects, scissors, glue, and, as Bronwen's spontaneous exclamation testified, the memory of those magically intricate DoodleArt posters.

And this tradition, made new this Christmas for me, is one that I know we'll bring forward. I'm sure you invigorated old traditions at your place this year as well -- care to share?

Christmas Moments -- A Child's Focus

2011-12-27T08:26:00.000-08:00

The last set of family departs later today, taking our little granddaughter away with them. I've loved the "five days of Christmas" with a houseful, but I'm ready for some quiet now, already snuggling in my armchair with a book before the rest of the house awakens. Once they're gone, Paul and I will settle back into our own company, a fridge full of leftovers ensuring our survival should we not wish to leave the house. I've got some knitting to sort -- old projects need to be rethought and then completed, so that I'm free to begin a new one. In a day or two, I have to write up my course outlines for next week's classes. And I've got a rainy run or two to work off turkey and trifle and tourtière (who knew those T's could be so hard on the middle!).

But I think I'll break up my hibernation with some posts of my favourite Christmas moments. I'm going to try to get these up in a quick series of posts, so that I'm ready to move on to whatever presents itself. I anticipate 4 or 5 quick photo-stories over the next day or two and hope you enjoy the record of our island Christmas.

In these snaps, I was happy to capture that focused absorption that a child can bring to a single, simple gift, excluding all the chaos of opening that beckons from the pile under the tree. By this point, she'd opened several other packages, but these Nativity Scene paper dolls fascinated her. A lesson here, if we wanted to stop and parse it. I won't, for now, but will let the image speak for itself.

Perhaps it will recall similar moments held in your memories. Would you share?

It's Christmas Time . . on the Island . . .

2011-12-18T11:17:00.000-08:00

I woke up 2-ish this morning, finally gave up trying to get back to sleep, came downstairs 3:24 (digital clocks have made insomnia unbearably precise) to make the pastry for my tourtières.

Two pies are in the fridge right now; I'll roll out pastry for the last one or two later this morning. I'm going to head back to bed and try my luck at dreamland in a minute, but thought I'd stop here first.

Gifts cover the dining table, perhaps a quarter of them wrapped, the rest still part of my to-do list. I'll make another batch of pastry later today and make up butter tarts. Have to pop up to campus and grab some files and books to work on when I find a quiet minute. We'll pick up more groceries while we're in town, and I'm mentally rehearsing the weekend's meals to see what we're still missing -- whipping cream, toilet paper, and is there really enough coffee?

Our Vancouver kids (including Nola) arrive this afternoon/evening, depending which ferries they catch. The Victoria folk can't get away until Christmas morning when their arrival will be duly celebrated. Soon I'll be enveloped in a joyous and noisy chaos that will leave me exhausted, washed up, and blessedly content in my armchair on Boxing Day. By then, there'll be another set of Christmas memories stored away, perhaps to be remembered in future posts, like this one I posted last year about a long-ago gift.

Meanwhile, though, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas at your house, as does Pater . . .

All the best for a joyous celebration with loved ones. Now let me see if I can get an hour or two more sleep before this day truly begins!

Brussels Sprouts for Christmas . . .

2011-12-18T11:08:00.000-08:00

We've been zipping around Vancouver and its outskirts visiting family -- took my mom for a long walk and then out to lunch; had our won't-make-Christmas-on-the-island daughter for a sushi evening; visited Paul's parents; had dinner with his siblings. We've shopped our way down to the end of the lists and even fit in some hand-holding walks on our own and delighted in a date at the movies (Hugo -- wonderful!).

We've discovered a considerable plumbing problem at the apartment and today have to do some triage: can it be solved with a phone call or two this week or is it best set aside for the New Year (all valves shut off in the meanwhile, of course) so we can concentrate on the festivities. And, of course, we have to get home and start hauling in groceries, and chopping, peeling, mixing, baking, rolling, frying, dicing, braising and whatever-ing them. . .

But that doesn't mean we don't have time to share a new quick and yummy recipe that Paul's been playing with. This easy pickling approach is a surefire way to entice anyone to eat their Brussels Sprouts.

First, clean up by trimming stems and discarding straggly outer leaves, then chop 4 cups Sprouts in half. Boil until fork-tender. Meanwhile into 3/4 cup apple cider vinegar, stir 1/2 tsp mustard powder and 1 tsp. oregano, 1/2 tsp. salt. I liked this iteration very much, but Paul's experimenting, in his latest batch, with 1/3 cup of sugar as one of the several recipes he studied added even more than this. He encourages you to play around with ingredients and proportions until you find a mix that has your family and friends gobbling up their veggies. We'll be serving these as before-dinner crudités as often as they'll be on the table as vegetable side dishes. They make as good a nibble as a bowl of olives or nuts, and they're healthy!

Edited to Add: Oh no, says Pater! You forgot to tell your readers that they should bring the cider vinegar to a boil, then stir the seasoning in. Let it cool and when both vinegar and drained brussel sprouts are just warm . . . then
The last step is to combine the cooked Sprouts with the vinegar seasoning, stirring together well, and leaving them in a covered container in the fridge for as long as you can resist them, at least 24 hours. Our last batch lasted that bare minimum, but we put a few containers away when we left home on Sunday, and we're looking forward to starting dinner with them when we get home today.

So there you are, a little gift from Pater to you. Enjoy!
And if you have any quick and yummy recipes you'd like to share in the comments, you know I'd love to hear them. . .

Festive Visibility

2011-12-18T08:47:00.000-08:00

As my last post outlined, I've turned the corner from Grinch to Christmas convert,coincidental with marking that last paper and filing that last grade. Of course I'll have to spend some time this week preparing for the start of next term, but I can afford to take a few days off now. And first on the agenda is some holiday visiting, and I had the outfit all ready to go.

I usually like what I put together to rely mainly on older pieces, supplemented by a few newer items to freshen the look. But except for my necklace (Birks, two years old), everything I'm wearing is sparkling new. . . However, I used to have a pair of black velvet leggings, must have been from the early 90s. Somehow I gave them away along with a silver Lurex long v-neck tunic. I'd hung on to both for many years, and I know why. They're festive and versatile and as soon as I spotted these two pieces in my local gem of a boutique, I grabbed them.

You may have noticed that my curls have been swapped out for straight hair. My stylist did her magic with the flatiron and I managed to get another day from the look, although it's not as glam and sleek as she had it the day before. It always amuses me to wear it this way and have people not recognize me, then do a double take. (I know: simple things amuse simple minds, but we curlyheads don't get too much variety, you know?)

And, of course, I got to wear my new Marc Jacobs studded mouse shoes, not my most frugal or practical purchase ever, but they do say "Christmas spirit," no?

So, the rundown?
Top: Spanner; leggings: Sandwich; Shoes: Marc Jacob; Beads; Birks; watch: Hermès; First Nations carved silver bracelet, almost 20 years now, spent mainly on my right wrist (So I did end up having an older item in my outfit; it's just such a part of me I almost forgot it!).

As soon as I post this, I'm going to rush over to Patti's and see what kind of festivities are going on there at Visible Monday. I'm sure there'll be a party outfit or two among the participants. You should check it out as well -- she always has a great gathering.

I also ended up linking to the Monday Mingle round-up at MomTrends. This is fun to visit as well.

Spirit of Christmas, Present . . .

2011-12-18T08:36:00.000-08:00

I am doing so much better, Christmas spirit-wise!
Why?
Well, let's see. It began with my wonderful hair stylist who spiked my cut-and-colour appointment with her wonderful festive tea and who then wrapped me in a dryer-warmed faux-fur throw to sit and sip it in luxurious comfort as my colour soaked.

Then I hit a few shops, independent ones in our very own small downtown, so that I felt good about my spending. I found the perfect gift for one daughter, at least it's perfect in my imagination at the moment and if it fits her as I imagine, she should be delighted (yes, I know there are all kinds of ways those expectations could go wrong, but for now I'm living in them, happily, as one does before Christmas).

I found one of those perfect gifts for myself that one does when Christmas shopping -- or is that only selfish me? Whoops! A French bulldog of some impressive faux-silver heft, his back and front ends separated to form gorgeous book-ends. I'll snap some pics later so you can admire my new pet.

I listened to Michael Bublé's Christmas album while marking on Friday, She and Him's on my run yesterday, and I just may pull out all the stops and throw on some Boney M later this morning.

And I got to "don some gay apparel" yesterday afternoon to make merry at a friend's open house. Plus Pater snapped a few photos of me before we headed out, so I'll have them to show you in tomorrow's Visible Monday post.

And this afternoon we're catching the ferry (yes, again!!) to head to Vancouver. I'll have some sparkly duds in my case for a dinner with my brothers/sisters in-law, so more Christmas spirit, and I'll be packing some gifts to hand out as well. In other words, I'm doing my best to spread the season out beyond one feverish and overwrought day. I'm there, people, I'm in the Christmas spirit (might have something to do with having finally finished my marking and filed my grades).

What about you? Enjoying the season already or still fretting about overly long to-do lists? Or a bit of both, perhaps?

Christmas is Coming. . . Ready or Not . . .

2011-12-16T09:00:00.000-08:00

Perhaps because I made such a big dent in the marking pile yesterday, perhaps because my blogging peers are so inspiring, perhaps because of those CDs I carolled along with yesterday. . . . who knows, but I'm beginning to anticipate the upcoming celebrations, and I'm noticing beauties of the season all about. The droplets on this barren maple tree, for example, don't they glimmer like little Christmas ornaments all over the almost red branches?

Heading out on my run this morning, I had to head back in for my camera, and once I'd captured a few shots here, I spied a few other wintry delights nearby. I'll show you over the next few days, and I'm going to link back to some favourite Christmas posts from years gone by, if you don't mind. . .

This one, for instance, letting my little granddaughter show us how to make the most of the small pleasures of Christmas, spreading them out for maximum enjoyment. I'm off to get my hair done this morning, and I'm going to consider the morning a Christmas treat for me, and get my husband to meet me for lunch afterwards, a new tradition of "Festive Lunch With my Man the Penultimate Friday Before Christmas" -- let's see if it catches on! What about you? How are you savouring the season today, this very moment, for yourself?

Running, Running, Christmas Running?

2011-12-15T07:41:00.000-08:00

Some of my favourite bloggers are getting into the Christmas spirit in a big way. Une Femme, for example, is having a 10 Days of Chrismukkah giveaway. Duchesse writes about what gets her in the Christmas spirit and asks her readers what works for them -- I know that will be a conversation to follow. That's Not My Age gives us festive dresses -- with sleeves! -- to make merry in. Kristin hand-makes one Christmas gift after a beautiful other, offering delectably-wrapped sweets for us to covet. Hostess bakes up loaves with leftover eggnog and shares her recipe. Lisa makes a Christmas gift suggestion for anyone with nuptials in the future.

But here on our little island? Grinchfamilias is marking papers still (I finished the research essays, but have now replaced those with the final exams!), trying to figure out how to get course proposals written by this afternoon's deadline, and the most Christmassy thing I've done so far is fret about the lists I haven't even written. . . .

There's some happiness astir, though. I can feel it rustling in the corners, and I know from past experience that it will pounce, capture me unawares through a cluster of red rose hips, the glimpse of a child's delight at a sparkly store window, the complex sweetness of a mincemeat tart, the scent of orange and cloves. . .

While I'm marking, doing what must be done to clear the way for that happiness to find me, I thought I'd take you on last Saturday's run with me around my beloved Stanley Park Seawall in Vancouver.

Siwash Rock, an inspiration in its testimony to human generosity, marks the turning point back into the East, to face Vancouver (and, indeed, the rest of the continent) again, after the open expanse of water facing the West, toward Vancouver Island, and beyond . . .

After Siwash Rock, the next landmark, the one that lets me know I'm on the home stretch, is running under the Lions Gate Bridge

Soon, I'll pass the Children's Playground, a bit sombre in the rain, but still holding some echoes of summer fun under its seaside sprinklers

Then I round another corner to run under this marine light, which never fails to make me feel I'm enjoying an exotically West Coast run. . .

And in toward Coal Harbour, with the seven sails marking the Vancouver Conference Centre across the water. . . From here, there are only another three or four, four or five perhaps, kilometres to go, and I'm beginning to think about my favourite crêpes ("Your usual? Number 5 with buckwheat? Coffee with cream?" our regular server asks with a smile)

And by the time I'm done, if I'm not yet in a Christmas spirit, I'm at least feeling the satisfaction of a job well done and I'm revved up for the day -- and, indeed, the week -- ahead.

I'll get to work on finding some Christmas spirit (in fact, I have a few new Christmas CDs to accompany my marking), but meanwhile, you know that I thought about you all through my weekend run.

So does the Christmas spirit have you running? Through the malls, through your lists, through the batches of baking? What's making you Christmas-merry -- or keeping you from it? Do tell, in the spirit of the season . . .

Under the Ax . . . Visible Monday!

2011-12-12T16:06:00.000-08:00

Back home from our Vancouver weekend, almost finished this round of marking, and I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone -- get Pater to get a Visible Monday shot or two and help him chop some kindling. Don't be deceived by my lack of a coat: It's chilly outside, hovering around the freezing mark during the daytime, and we need to keep the fire stoked.

To be honest, Pater was managing quite well without me, but it's been a few years since I've swung that ax, and the little kindling ax you see on the chopping stump above was calling out to me. I remembered how well it fit my hand

and couldn't resist giving it a try.

And it did all come back to me, just like the proverbial bike-riding. . .

My Visible Monday get-up? Gap cord skinnies, a fabulous fit at a great price -- I highly recommend these, especially since they have a great mid-rise fit. Worn with a Club Monaco very fine wool blend t-neck, also a very useful item, under a black cashmere tunic by Maiko, several years old, and a pair of black patent leather brogues by Browns, also wardrobe oldsters. Ditto the leopard-print flower brooch by Pleasant Pheasant.

As always, on Mondays, be sure to check out the rest of the gang over at Patti's. The collection of Visible Women is always inspiring!

pre-Christmas Juggling . . .

2011-12-10T07:21:00.001-08:00

This marking really puts a crimp in the Christmas spirit. Taking a day completely off is out of the question, because the essays must be returned at next week's exams, and I can only mark 10-12 a day without sending my back and shoulders into spasm.

Still, we've moved the marking operation to Vancouver this weekend where we're managing to fit in a few fun activities AND we'll foray out to pick up a few gifts.

Last night Paul and I had a lovely meal at a local favourite, The Twisted Fork on Granville Street and stopped by our daughter's place on the way home for a quick visit. I love that proximity -- I miss seeing my kids for regular hugs. And besides a hug from R, I got to cuddle the delightful Nola, who was having a sleepover at her auntie's. Good times!

On today's schedule: first up, my run; then we'll pick up Nola and drive her back to her Mom and dad's, maximizing the visiting ops; from there, we're heading to Vancouver Kidsbooks for some happy browsing and buying. This afternoon I have a facial booked at Luxe Lounge (where my daughter works as an RMT, although she won't be in there today), and this evening we're seeing R again for dinner.

Sometime in there, I'll be marking for several hours, but in that flurry of activities of outlined, the chore doesn't look so bad, does it?

And I'm determined not to be a Grinch . . . I reread this post from last year, remembering a few things about keeping the season sane and joyous. Perhaps you'll find it worth reading as well -- at least it has pictures, which I couldn't manage today.

So I'm off now: running, shopping, marking, having my face cared for, and, above all, smiling. . . . How about you?

Marking's for the Birds, What I Wore . . .

2011-12-07T10:16:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday, I lugged home three sections of first-year papers, and then I spent the weekend marking as many as I could per day without utterly locking up parts of my body intended for movement.

Then Monday evening, I taught the last class of the term and received another stack. I'm currently halfway through the total, excepting the inevitable stragglers, and have another 40-ish papers to grade. I can't resist giving far too much feedback on each paper, and can't manage many more than 10 or 12 a day. I move from my office desk to the kitchen table to my big leather club chair and, a recent innovation, to lean against the curve of my grand piano, standing to mark on its expansive lid. Standing seems a welcome corrective to the hamstring-shortening torture of chair-sitting.

Just as I sense an end to the marking, though, I have to interrupt it to attend meetings. Faculty meetings, Department meetings, Faculty Association meetings, committee meetings, Aargh!

But we look for comfort around here at the Materfamilias abode, and I found some last week in the form of a new pair of Bedhead cotton flannel pjs. A local store has begun carrying these and while on the hunt for some retail therapy, I spied a Sale rack with a 40% markdown. And look at this Ornithological (the birds!) Christmas print (the red and green!) print. I love it, and I suspect Nola will delight in it as well.

So I'll be marking in cozy comfort and sporting a festively avian vibe. Tempted to wear these to some of my meetings this week, but I'll restrict them to marking-at-home use only.

What's keeping you sane, happy, and comfortable during December's gathering craziness? Any hints?

Katherine and I, Visibly . . .

2011-12-05T10:32:00.001-08:00

Quite a while ago, I bookmarked a post on DressADay for this statement about a featured skirt:

But the first person to mention that a horizontal seam at the hips may, possibly, conceivably, make you look slightly wider gets a resounding Bronx cheer in the comments. C'mon, live a little! You can't always worry about the width of your hips, sometimes you have to worry about where to put your wallet & cell phone! Or about why everyone under 30 seems to only wear a short tight skirt, a big floppy blouse, and four-inch nude-colored platform pumps! Worrying about looking wider fell off my worry-about list some time ago. (But zombies are still on my list. Oh, yes, those pesky zombies ...)

Erin expressed what I so often feel, that we (understandably) prioritize figure flattery over (unfortunately) enjoying styles that express our personalities in important ways. And finally, today, I've got around to a post of my own that seems to call out for her wisdom.

I loved these fine-wool, high-waisted, wide-legged pants (by Clemente, a European line) as soon as I spotted them. They're not terribly practical -- I'm going to have to clip them carefully before biking, so they don't get caught up in the chainguard.

And they're probably not very flattering, making me look squatter than a 5'3" woman needs to look. But they make me tap into my inner Katherine Hepburn. . .

albeit Katherine had many inches on me.

It seems to me that part of what Visible Monday is all about is expanding notions of What to Wear beyond simply those designed to make us look younger, slimmer, taller (not that I've abandoned the quest for that trifecta). Go check out my fellow participants and see if you agree.

Merino V-neck, Banana Republic
Cardi, Aritzia
Pants, Elemente Clemente
Boots, Acne

The City Mouse

2011-12-02T13:01:00.001-08:00

I promised that my next post would tell you where we ate our pre-opera dinner last Saturday in Vancouver, and I do like to keep a promise, so let me recommend to you the fine food, reasonable prices, attentive service, and attractive room right in the heart of the downtown core, all at Culinaria, the student-staffed showcase of the Art Institute of Vancouver's culinary program.

Sadly, my creative energy is locked away in the same drawer as any disposable time, and the key is being jealously guarded by that Professor's Conscience that insists I mark my papers in time to hand them back at exams (at which point the process will begin again, sigh!). I can tell you that presentation was exquisite, from the rectangular small plates brought just as our wine arrived, with three delightful amuse-bouches, through my bison carpaccio starter and my succulent crab cakes, a starter dish ordered as a main, which was plenty for my appetite and left room for dessert -- crème brûlée (white chocolate & lavender, mmmmm). The crust on the crème brûlée was too thick -- if they'd thrown in a few roasted peanuts, we could have called it peanut brittle -- but otherwise the meal was perfect . . . and really, how problematic is a bit too much burnt sugar?

Company was wonderful: opera friends had included us in a table of 8 they'd put together, and we very much enjoyed getting to know our new acquaintances. Most impressive was how well the young server ensured that we were out in plenty of time to get to the theatre for a 7:30 curtain -- latecomers at the opera have to wait until intermission to be seated. Overall a lovely evening, and we'll be sure to visit Culinaria again soon. Especially since a meal that would have been $200 was closer to $100. . .

Which could be the segue I need to help me explain the photo of my new Marc Jacobs "mouse" shoes. Really, I've included them in this post because I had no food photos of our evening and I do think a picture enlivens a post. As well, there's been a dearth of lively around here, and definitely a dearth of anything style-wise, an interest of many of my readers, I know. But I thought I could make the case that the money we'd saved by eating at Culinaria rather than a pricier spot went toward buying my new shoes, paying for at least a few of those mouse-camouflaging studs.

In which case, in order to pay for a few more, perhaps we need to book several more evenings there. . . . Hmmm, like my economics?

Seriously, though, I think these shoes will go a long way to helping me "festive up" some clothes that do regular holiday duty. I wore them yesterday to feel festive while I marked, in black leggings and a black cashmere v-neck tunic. . . . tell me, what's making you feel festive these days?

And do you have a Culinary School in your 'hood? Have you checked it out yet? Is it a regular haunt?

Opera: A Love Story

2011-11-30T11:49:00.001-08:00

After the opera-blogging I did over the last two VOA seasons, I'll admit it's been a relief, this month and last, simply to settle in next to my husband and enjoy the opera. But even though it means stealing time from my paid work (oh, what a mountain of marking I'm facing this week -- and I'm trying to finish two proposals for papers to be published or presented), I do like to spread the word about the exciting entertainment staged by the VOA at Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth theatre.

So here's a brief description of our experience at Saturday's opening-night Vancouver Opera Association performance of Gounod's Roméo et Juliette:

Settling into my seat as last-minute ticket-holders are seated, I enjoy the ritual of dimming lights, the various tuning efforts of diverse instruments gradually vibrating into silence, the audience's murmurs getting quieter, the light that marks the conductor's entrance in the orchestra pit just in front of, and below, the stage. The applause that greets him is amplified by his acknowledgment of his orchestra as we include them in our tribute. Then a collective breath-holding, a hush, as the conductor's baton slices through the air, launching the evening's musical entertainment.

Always, as I am attending closely to the overture, whether recognizing well-known themes or analyzing ones new to me, my ears are distracted by the demands on my eyes as the curtain rises to reveal the wonders of the stage set. Perhaps because Gounod's Roméo et Juliette presented me with the luxurious combination of a story I know well (doesn't everyone?) with music about to be discovered, I was especially aware of the phenomena involved in watching an opera.

Beyond the appreciation of the opening rituals, I noticed my delight at the stage set of this production of Roméo et Juliette. Along with the sumptuous costumes, the set hails from Utah (one of the rewards of my previous opera-blogging was going backstage and learning more about the business of building, getting, lending, and transporting the various material demands that go into opera design construction -- I miss that!), Elaborately detailed, its balconies, pillars, and pleasing Classical symmetries offer a satisfying background. Its drama is heightened by the "mist" that wreathes the stage as the curtain rises to a choral prologue laying out the historical background while a lively brawl signals the long-simmering, murderous feud between the Montagues and the Capulets.

As Juliette, Vancouver soprano Simone Osborne, playing to a home crowd after considerable national and international acclaim, held our attention immediately. Even before she began singing, she captured a 13-year old's physicality convincingly enough that one could almost sense a collective calculation: could a singer so young be on stage, working as a professional? Osborne's acting was most amusingly effective as she parries the amorous advances of the much older Paris, intended by her family as a "good catch of a match" for her. And then with the delightful "Je veux vivre," Juliette's waltz aria, I was smitten as, of course, very soon was Roméo.

There were numerous other convincing performers, particularly Julie Boulianne as Stéphano and Peter Volpe as Frère Laurent. As well, I was interested to see the adaptations that librettists Jules Barbier and Michel Carré made to Shakespeare's play. I found the staging of Juliette's deliberation over the risks of Frère Laurent's plan very effective, but wondered at the logistic risks implicit in having her collapse at the wedding scene rather than be discovered, supposedly dead, in her bed (not risks to the staging, but rather, riskiness of Juliette's plan around the poison's timing). From an opera-lover's perspective, the librettists' decision to have Juliette awake while Roméo is still conscious allows for a very satisfying, albeit heart-tuggingly sad, musical moment.

Consider grabbing tickets for Thursday's or Saturday's performances (and I quickly assure you that I receive no compensation from VOA for singing their praises, and that we pay for our own season's tickets, as we have for 5 or 6 years). Let me know what you think.

Oh, and if you're wondering what I wore, I'll admit that I trotted out this dress yet again, with slightly different accessories.

Next post: Where we ate before the opera, haute cuisine at bargain prices in Vancouver

Gone Shopping (and to the Opera, and Dinner, and . . . )

2011-11-26T07:18:00.001-08:00

I'm in Vancouver for the weekend and too busy to blog between pre-opera dinner, opera, post-opera drinks, Sunday morning sleeping-in ('til 10!! and I rarely sleep past 6:30!), running the seawall, shopping (some early Christmas treasures for me), and visiting our daughter.

I'm planning a few posts -- one about a great find for dinner in Vancouver, another about the Vancouver Opera's current production, Romé et Juliette, another, perhaps, on my shopping discoveries -- but for now, I hope you'll accept a token gesture of a few The View From Here shots taken on our beach last week. We've alternated between tempestuous bouts of late-fall storms and crisp, exhilirating sunny autumn days.

The stormy seas, combined with high tides have shifted the beach logs and have deposited large stumps in surprising spots. We've never, for example, had driftwood left on our stone steps to the beach.

I'm not sure you can tell how large this stump is, but I assure you it's rather substantial for being tossed upstairs like a child's toy -- which is what the waves that wake me in the early morning hours did one night last week.

Again, sorry to be fobbing you off yet again with photos -- as partial combination, here's something you really will delight in, my favourite news item of the past considerable while, a delectable mystery featuring exquisiting paper art. Read and feast your eyes!

Millay in the Autumn

2011-11-25T12:04:00.001-08:00

Almost four years ago, to the day, I wrote the following post, and it seems so apropos to the time of year, to the photograph I took yesterday, that I hope you won't mind me re-posting it. My non-tennis elbow is flaring up under the pressure of marking an on-line assignment (which requires too much time at the keyboard) -- and I'll admit I may have spent more time than advisable on Twitter recently. Elbow, wrist, shoulders, and back are all threatening to rebel, and it seems wise to listen, not to sit typing a lengthy post.

And really, should one ever apologising for re-visiting the brilliant Edna St. Vincent Millay? I think not! So without further ado, here's a late autumn post from 2007, still as relevant, I hope, as it was then.

More Millay

In addition to yesterday's tidbits from Nancy Milford's Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay, here's a deliciously cheeky line from a letter she wrote to her publishers. Having been drawing advances from them during years of illness (much of it related to addiction), she had to resist their push to publish books she didn't feel would do her reputation credit. One such proposal was for a book of her love poems, introduced by a foreword in which she would provide some autobiographical context for each poem. Fearing that such a publication would attract the wrong kind of reader, she declined respectfully, closing with this fabulous line:
Trusting, however, in closing, that for one year more it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances. (489)

And here's a sonnet written, appropriately enough, in the autumn of Millay's life, when she was about my age, mid-50s. It's a sonnet that testifies to Millay having recovered her powers after years of illness, depression, and little productive writing, and a sonnet worth savouring as we approach the end of autumn (sneaking up a bit too close to winter!).

Tranquility at length, when autumn comes,
Will lie upon the spirit like that haze
Touching far islands on fine autumn days
With tenderest blue, like bloom on purple plums;
Harvest will ring, but not as summer hums,
With noisy enterprise--to broaden, raise,
Proceed, proclaim, establish: autumn stays
The marching year one moment; stills the drums.
Then sits the insistent cricket in the grass;
But on the gravel crawls the chilly bee;
And all is over that could come to pass
Last year; excepting this: the mind is free
One moment, to compute, refute, amass,
Catalogue, question, contemplate, and see.

I love the way Millay works the octave, stretching its lyricism, building tension -- there's a certain fraught vulnerability to tranquility's tender beauty
of the tranquility
-- it's "at length" and only "touching far" places on the horizon. But I especially love the last four lines of the sestet, the buildup to the caesura and then that catalogue of evaluative processes so different from the strident achievements of summer, the move through "compute, refute, amass" all the way to that marvellously open "see." A "see" which, rhyming with the "free" above, is delivered with such triumph, at the end of the list of verbs, that we almost forgot that the mind is only free "One moment."

What I find really interesting about the claims she's making in the sonnet is that she's attributing to autumn some processes and possibilities I probably would assign to winter. I wonder how much that has to do with Millay's difficulties reconciling herself to aging. A public figure whose physical attractiveness and sexual charisma had been such a defining element, she may have been especially motivated to figure the autumn of her life in positive and productive terms.

Three? Really!

2011-11-23T12:43:00.001-08:00

Three years old today! Hard to believe that this excitement happened that long ago, and even more miraculous that this wee one, introduced back in this post

is now big enough to sit up at the counter and colour, after spending a busy day at the park

She's wonderful company and coped very well with spending a week at Nana & Granddad's while her parents were in Hawaii. A bit aggrieved as she remembers and loves Hawaii, she quickly reconciled herself to the idea of visiting us at our (much colder) beach.

I especially loved her decisive assessments: "I'm sorry, Granddad, but you are wrong, and she's right."

I'm already missing her, but took comfort in her obvious joy that she'd be back home today, celebrating her birthday with Mom and Dad.

And chuckling over our cuddle this morning in the big leather chair -- she snuggled right into my chest, taking deep comforting sniffs of her very worn lamb, Maw. Obviously quite relaxed but not truly somnolent, she looked up at me mischievously and said, "Nana, You're a bed."

Okay, that's it, I promise. We'll wrap up the Doting Nana act for the moment as soon as I've finished shouting out Happy Birthday, Sweetheart! Looking forward to your next visit.

Grandparenting on the Island

2011-11-20T11:19:00.001-08:00

We're heading for an afternoon nap right now, Nola and I, her grandfather having headed off to town for groceries.

So far, we've played trains together (there's Brio track looping madly all over the kitchen floor, under the table, contemplating heading down the three stairs into the livingroom), viewed Winnie the Pooh on DVD (I'm absolutely a fan of the books but nonetheless have a soft spot for any animation that includes John Cleese's voice and typographic romps), made potato-leek soup together, eaten a surprising amount of pancakes with pure maple syrup, bacon on the side, and read books in a big red leather chair -- so far, Munro Leaf's classic Ferdinand is the winner at five re-reads, but Vipont & Briggs' sly The Elephant and the Bad Baby is close behind at three, while Vancouver Island writer Stephen Eaton Hume's Midnight on the Farm has already charmed twice and the weekend's not over yet.

After our nap, we're planning to make cookies, play trains again, watch the boats out the window, help Granddad set the sponge for tomorrow's bread-making, read more books, and just possibly watch Winnie the Pooh all over again. Ratatouille (the film, not the dish) is also an option . . . .

Oh dear, Granddad looks a bit serious about the bad baby's behaviour, doesn't he?

But don't worry, Nola's obviously amused . . .

Because, you know, it's all fun and games around here this weekend. . . How about you?

Walk With Me? More Commuting . . .

2011-11-18T09:53:00.001-08:00

We're anticipating a special visitor here -- Pater/Granddad has taken the car to Vancouver to pick up little Nola and bring here back for a few days while her parents are away. Originally, I planned to join him there today, spend the weekend at little girl's apartment, then we'd all come back Monday in time for my afternoon office hours and evening class.

But Wednesday morning, out on my run, I realized Granddad could manage very well on his own, that he could bring Nola back here Saturday morning, and I'd still get plenty of time for play and hugs while enjoying a restful Friday alone and avoiding the wear-and-tear of a Vancouver round trip and nights in another bed.

So I've been happily quiet inside all day today, watching the rain turn to sleet, then to snow, then to thicker snow. I had a lovely long afternoon nap -- before which the ground was covered wintry white, and after which winter had retreated for a while, all the snow melted away. Just one of napping's magical benefits. . . .

But all that melted snow has added to the ground's sogginess, and tonight the temperatures will drop below freezing again, and walking will be treacherous. Yesterday, our car on granddaughter-pickup duty, I walked the hilly route to work. In the photo at the top of this post, I'm looking back to the harbour from which I've just climbed -- perhaps you can see the elevation. And just above is the rest of my route, which will follow the road down, then up, down, turning for a while before climbing partway up the first distant hill.

All the way, black ice disguised its dangers until a too-hastily-placed foot almost slipped a hip to the ground. I learned to test some patches gingerly before moving on, and by the time I got to campus I was wishing for a pair of those not-elegant but very practical Yak-Traks that strap on footwear to ensure traction anywhere.

So I wasn't reassured when I confronted this sign at the bottom of the campus hill.

Especially since our campus is nothing if not hilly . . .

These stairs are not the first set -- I've already climbed to get to this point. At least, they've all been liberally salted.

My schedule hasn't accommodated walking this term (I only did so this week by skipping my usual Pilates class, too far to walk to), but last year I was walking 3 days a week. You can see how it would complement my half-marathon training!

Another flight, and you can see why we joke that you can get your B. S.T (buns of steel) along with your BSc here. . .

Even at the top of these stairs, I'm not quite at my office. But I am removing my scarf and gloves, unbuttoning my coat. The ground may be frozen, but I've warmed up, and I'm energized for class. No gym required!

Today, though, I've stayed inside reading by the fire, venturing out only to get more wood from the shed. Even the mailbox up the road seems too far a walk. Besides, I think I should save some energy to play my heart out with Nola. We'll be having fun this weekend. What about you?

Commuting, Island Style

2011-11-16T08:38:00.000-08:00

Just in case you think it's all beautiful beachfront views around here, punctuated by relaxing getaways in surprisingly restful urban settings with their own gorgeous outlooks, I thought you might like to see what our daily commute looks like. Especially once the fall rains begin along with the wind warnings and the colder temperatures, island life becomes much less idyllic. Here`s the view through a rain-spattered windshield, heading home on a cold day in an unheated boat . . .

As this passage from Rosecrans Baldwin's You Lost Me There suggests, islands that seem positively delightful from April through September become less so in the darker, shorter months of the year:

Sara and I had expected to miss Manhattan when we left, but we both caught movers' amnesia. We fell in love with Maine and also with each other again, our older, more demure selves. We shared a feeling of being evacuated. It was a team effort. We didn't swap our leather jackets for parks, but we invested in proper boots. "I like the winters," I told Sara one night in bed, the two of us staring at the ceiling, "how everyone waves on the road." "When you've got a couple hundred people trapped on an island, you get to know the faces." "Sure, and even if they don't recognize you, they still wave." "Who else but a neighbour would be on the island in January?" (133)

Sara and Victor "invested in proper boots," and we have those along with fairly efficient raingear. But while we have a reliable (privately owned, foot passenger only) ferry service to the island, we also invested in a solid welded aluminium boat, a little workhorse that can take us safely across even in rather heavy winds.

Even with our own boat to make life a bit easier, though, island living requires considerable schlepping. I often long for the days when I used to unthinkingly drive my car into the carport, complaining that I had to carry the groceries up the four steps and into the kitchen. Coming back from last week's getaway, we hauled our weekender bags from the parking lot down the ramp to the boat, along with the groceries AND my bike which we'd had repaired and tuned up.

And although there's already a sense of Home Sweet Home when we arrive at our community dock with its rather motley collection of nautical craft, we still have to haul everything out of the boat, load it onto the bikes (or into a wheelbarrow) and cart it the last kilometre home. Those wire panniers on the back of my bike have a CostPerUse that`s infinitesimally small, so indispensable are they.

One of the homes on the island was, for a few years, named ToteHaul by the charming (and well read) young family who lived there, and it`s always seemed a most brilliantly apt appellation. Tote-Haul: we live it every day!

Not quite so envious now, are you, if you ever were, of island life!

Just Another Visible Monday . . .

2011-11-14T10:26:00.001-08:00

Again, I thought I wouldn't find time for joining the Visible Monday party, but again, it just seemed too much fun to resist. After all, there's Patti, showing the way in her newly thrifted Louis Vuitton blouse.

So I managed to get dressed for work before Pater left to pick up groceries in town, and he wielded the camera for me.

I'll admit I wasn't thrilled with what that camera revealed about the skirt. I love it on, and I feel as if it's more fitted and a better length when I'm wearing it, but from his angle . . . it's a bit frumpy, no? Might be better with a higher heel and perhaps not a knee-length but an ankle boot.

The silhouette below better represents what the outfit feels like on -- those shadows make a great airbrush! What I liked about the mix is that wearing a simple black t-neck underneath lets me wear the ruffled sheer blouse on a day that's really too chilly for it. The skirt dresses that frilliness down, I think, keeps the whole comfortable and easy. So do the boots, but they also add a bit of fun with their pointy toes and cowboy heel. Go Fluevog!

So the outfit rundown:
black, fine wool turtleneck, Club Monaco
knit pencil skirt, faux Black denim finish, Club Monaco
black Fluevog boots (Truth Britney model)
Desigual blouse

That was fun! Well worth the time spent, and I got some time in the sunshine with my man as a bonus. Check out the assemblage of Visibility over at Patti's . . . and think about your own visibility. Want to share here? Tell me what you're wearing this Monday.

Mini Getaway and some MaterPride

2011-11-12T17:17:00.001-08:00

My son's convocation from University of Victoria was last Thursday, and we were there to watch him walk across the stage, kneel before the Chancellor, re-place his hat in that ages-old academic ritual. Very moving, as these events always are. That's the same stage I walked across six years ago for my PhD., so the layers of time folded together happily for me, layers that also included a little guy's first day at school, his clowning at an elementary school Christmas concert, a bigger guy's brave move to do Grade 10 in Ottawa, keeping his dad company during a work stint in that city, his graduations from high school, then from his two-year diploma program, then proudly wearing a suit behind a hotel desk in his first serious position, and now, another landmark.

We'd initially assumed I couldn't attend because the convocation was scheduled on a teaching day, and this is a supremely busy time of term. But I worked like a fiend getting my marking caught up the last few weekends, and then I posted enough work on Moodle to keep my classes busy, checked with my Chair and my Dean, and packed my bag. Having cleared the day, and with Friday being Remembrance Day, we decided to book two days at the Laurel Point Inn in Victoria.

I've been caught up in the term's stress, not sleeping well, my shoulders stuck around my ears, and in dire need of a break. Arriving at the hotel after the ceremony, the moon was just rising across the water, and already the promise of calm enticed.

And checking into our room, the twilight view overlooking the harbour

the autumn-dressed leaves lit against the falling dusk, all insisted I slow down, breathe more deeply. Dinner at the lively, always-satisfying Brasserie l'Ecole after stopping for drinks along the way, walking the Victoria Downtown with a young couple who have made it their own over the past several years . . . overall, the day and the evening were reassuring, reaffirming reminders of what really matters. I get so caught up in the rhythms of my work, which never, ever feels done, but sometimes it's good -- and it's okay -- to take time to step off that whirling circuit.

Morning offered more clarity, more beauty, more calm, although the latter arrived after a very stormy night.

Note the pool's decoration -- the leaves stripped by the overnight winds.

Home now, I have to hurl myself back into that whirligig, catch up with student e-mails, read the play I'm teaching on Tuesday and prep the class, mark a few leftover papers, and finish a proposal whose deadline is the end of the month. Need to fit in my week's long run (two hours, a big time commitment), really want to make a leek-potato soup, wish I could catch up my Reading Blog, and possibly write a long-owed e-mail to a good friend. The shoulders are already creeping back up to their usual position as sentinels to my ears, perhaps trying to protect them from all the cries of to-dos, must-dos, should-dos. . .

But I've had a lovely break, an important reminder of priorities -- not to mention a fabulous in-room massage and facial AND an unheard-of sleep-in (till 9 o'clock, never happens!).

So I'm ready for the week ahead. I hope you've managed to find some downtime as well over the weekend, but if not, perhaps you can plan to squeeze a few hours for something important to you. The work will be there when you get back to it, I guarantee!

Street Scenes, Open Doors, Paris

2011-11-09T19:23:00.000-08:00

Paris: blocks away from the whimsical graffiti I featured in my weekend post is this much more aggressive array, reflecting an area (in the 20th) where gentrification is displacing what seems to have been housing more affordable for the area's multicultural population.

Its harder edges are not without humour, though. . .

This mural depicting the street taggers' art tools, the spray cans on the shelf and in the trompe d'oeil nook above amused me, and I had to zoom in to get this image with my son's nickname personalizing a can of paint. A coincidence, I hasten to assure you, as my boy was back home, far from Paris.

I realize that many readers may find this imagery disturbing in its representation of a frightening civic disorder

but I found it strangely beautiful, if sad and, yes, threatening. . .

It reminded me, in its defamiliarization of my notion of a home (that plaid upholstery, the distant "room" with its old couch)

of this poignant, wistful drawing of home, nestled underneath a bridge crossing London's St. Martin's Canal.

What say you? A poet friend of mine sees graffiti as the voice of the city, speaking for the disenfranchised. Loving Paris as I do, I want to hear other voices than those of the pretty arrondissments although I'm not sure I'd want to be staying down the street from these scenes.

There's a powerful energy, though, isn't there, in this collective art. Arresting, at the very least.

Visible Indeed! Falling for Red. . .

2011-11-07T06:55:00.000-08:00

When I first saw this sweater in my local favourite boutique, I was instantly attracted to it, but walked away knowing it wasn't entirely practical. By the time it's cold enough outside to wear it, the classrooms are heating up and the cozy wool-angora mix is sure to trigger this phenomenon peculiar to women "of a certain age."

But some garments just hook you, and this one brought me back to the shop for a second look, and a try, and then resistance was futile. Perfect for those fall days when temps are in the mid-teens, skies are blue, air is crisp . . .

As you can see, it's as much tunic as sweater, with a wide flare at both sides, quite a bit of swing. Pater doesn't love it, preferring garments that divulge shape more clearly, but he concedes that if it makes me feel perky, that's an attraction of its own. So far, I've layered it over a slim denim skirt with dark tights and a heel. It doesn't work well with pants unless they're slim, as are these skinny jeans. And while I'm not sure I'd trust its heat in the classroom, it's great for days when I'm sitting too long at the desk in my drafty office, not generating enough heat on my own. Why, the red alone turns the thermostat up at least two degrees!

Between the red and the large self-fabric flower, this is definitely a qualifier for Visible Monday. We should hop over there now and check out what other garb is being modelled by the fabulous array of women Patti pulls together once a week.

Jeans: Wilfred by Aritzia
Boots: INK, Paris-bought, Italian-made
T-neck,grey tissue-weight merino-microfibre blend: Wilfred, Aritzia

Sweater: La Fée Maraboutiné

Bouleversante, Paris Memories . .

2011-11-06T07:24:00.000-08:00

I'm using my extra hour today (such a gift! will almost make up for having to come home in total darkness after work this week) to mark papers. Thus, not only have I little of interest to tell you, but I need an escape. And where better to escape to, imaginatively and through memory, than Paris.

We came across this graffiti, an amusing riff on a theme I shared earlier, while wandering the streets of Paris' Belleville and Menilmontant neighbourhoods last April, in good-as-summer temperatures. Wisteria and clematis and lilac trees, motorcycles parked on sidewalks, lively graffiti, an urban mix I found very pleasing.

Clicking on photos will fill your screen with Paris. Go on, you know you want to be there . . .

Those of you who share this adjustment from Daylight Savings Time, I hope you're using that hour well. And to all of you, hope you're enjoying the weekend. Are you escaping anywhere in your imagination? Or are you happy to be exactly where you are? Do tell . . .

Wednesday, not quite Wordless . . .

2011-11-02T20:58:00.000-07:00

Different views of yesterday's sky at dawn, all within five minutes. Brooding to uplifting.

My Wordless Wednesday, again. . .

With just a few words . . . Still playing catch-up here, today saw me fitting in an hour-long run, which felt good, and finishing off the batch of marking that gets handed back tomorrow, to be exchanged for a big stack of research paper proposals and annotated bibliographies.

And I took advantage of the day at home to make a big batch of Sweet Potato Vegetarian Chile from this recipe in the weekend Globe and Mail.

Then Paul and I cuddled on the couch and watched the first DVD of Supernatural, on the recommendation of a colleague. Not bad, although the genre's not our usual choice. But then, there was a time when I would have sworn I'd never watch a vampire show, and look who's a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan . . .

There you go, a not-quite-Wordless Wednesday. Halfway to the weekend, folks, maybe we'll make it!

Visibly Autumnal, Visible Handknit

2011-10-31T10:22:00.000-07:00

I didn't think I'd be able to manage a Visible Monday post, today, but I finished putting this dress together last night, and it seemed too bad to miss the opportunity to show it off. It's such a great match for the autumn palette, and its mohair warmth will be perfect if the snow flurries in the forecast materialize.

And, as you can see most clearly in the pattern view from Classic Elite Yarns Winter Whimsy Booklet, this dress definitely honours visibility! Especially for wearing to teach in, I needed to mitigate against having quite so much on view, so I've layered a long skinny lightweight-cotton black James Perse T-shirt underneath (which also mitigates against mohair's itch factor, although this is a lovely mohair, so not too itchy).

You might also notice by comparing the pattern view and my version that I've modified the neckline, crocheting two rounds of double crochet to draw it in somewhat, both ensuring that it stays on my shoulders and enhancing the modesty rating. As is, I realize that the neckline fights with that of the T-shirt below, but this is the best compromise I can manage from my current wardrobe. I'd also wear this with a light cami to show off the lovely lacework, as in the view below. But I won't do that in the classroom.

The shoes (ankle boots, really), if you're curious, are Fluevog Giulias. If you can find a more comfortable 2.5" heel that's as funky as these, let me know. . .

Now I'd better get my work week started. Don't forget to check out all the different ways women of a certain age celebrate their visibility over at Patti's Visible Monday. What a community she's building!

Learning, Writing, Teaching, Marking . . .

2011-10-29T20:28:00.000-07:00

Still too busy to write much. Weeks 6 through 9 of term are always crazy, head down, keep marching.I handed back assignments this week only to pick up another batch, and will do the same next week. Weekends and evenings for the next two weeks, I'll be moving from my big leather armchair to my office desk to my kitchen table, trying to bring some variety to a seemingly unending task.

There will be a pause, though, and once the next batch gets handed back, I anticipate two relatively free weekends before the final papers, and then the exams, demand their time. Being familiar with this rhythm after so many years makes it manageable, but I still have to take care pacing myself -- it's surprisingly hard on the body, is marking, especially if one normally wears her shoulders up around her ears at the best of times. My elbow begins to complain, my neck stiffens, I get back twinges that remind me of the full-on spasm that locked me down for days several years ago.

I've had some lovely moments in my teaching lately that balance the tedium of marking. My 1st-year Literature and Culture students have been working our way through Richard Harrison's collection of hockey poetry, Hero of the Play. It's exciting to see them tentatively gaining confidence and competence in unpeeling a poem, working at its indeterminacies to construct a reading that can be shared convincingly. I've also found the emerging conversation about culture very satisfying, listening to their constructions of nation and nationalism, to their personal and collective histories of pop culture, their awareness (or not) of larger narratives that I've assumed as shared but that they're cut off from, generationally. Names that continue to resonate for me, a non-sports fan with limited understanding and awareness of hockey, pass by most of them without a flicker of recognition, although the few hockey players in the class have at least heard of the most iconic players.

Equally interesting are the reactions of the several International students in my class -- with no knowledge of hockey whatsoever, they are nonetheless perhaps more ready than my Canadian students to associate it with our country, our flag, our nordicity. To appreciate the poems, some have even viewed the documentary on Rocket Richard, loaded up Youtube videos of historic games. Who would have thought this might be an outcome of teaching poetry?!

I'll leave you with my favourite teaching moments of the past week:
in one, the class was divided into groups, each group working on a set of approaches to an assigned poem. One small group comprised two young Canadian women and two young men whose English was their second language and who were studying here, far from their home country. The four were discussing a poem that foregrounded women's roles within the masculinist culture of hockey, and one of the young men was explaining that a certain female ambition or behaviour would not be accepted in his country. The other fellow agreed that it was the same where he came from, and both the young women were alternately incredulous and amused. Much laughter, animation, and fellowship marked the conversation, and I felt quietly gratified to have a small part in setting up the circumstances that allowed it. Despite the mountains of marking, much of what I do is truly a privilege.

The second moment happened outside of the classroom in an on-line discussion forum I set up on Moodle (a software teaching-learning platform) to allow students to ask questions and exchange ideas for an upcoming assignment. I check in from time to time, and last Tuesday or Wednesday was thrilled to note a conversation in which one student was recommending to her classmates that they check out the Writing Handbook's section on punctuation. She claimed it was brilliant for helping her edit her paper. Another student chimed in on behalf of the same handbook's pages on eliminating wordiness. Another answered that using it had helped her cut 94 flabby words from an 800-word paper. Independent, focussed learning -- I love it!

And finally, what a joy yesterday afternoon to meet with a tiny group of International students, European and Asian, to read and discuss the first of Thomas King's Massey Lectures, from the book collection The Truth About Stories. As I've mentioned before, this is a volunteer activity I initiated, and it can feel like a real sacrifice to drag myself back to campus on one of my work-at-home days. But reading King's words aloud, watching the students reading to themselves in accompaniment, waiting for them to recognize how the lecture's various elements begin to coalesce, enjoying their delight in King's wry humour, the way he moves from the apparently silly to the movingly relevant. . . What a way to finish my week, what a privilege!

And you? I hope your work week brought you some happy moments. I'm craving three days, even two, in which I could put work aside completely, but until that happens, I'm trying to remember that the busy-ness has its pleasures. I wish those for you as well.

Added: Thanks to reader/commenter/neighbour Liz H-K (who blogs here about Weaving on my Island) for providing a link to the CBC archives where you can listen to Thomas King reading the Massey lectures. I've heard these on CD and they're wonderful; didn't realize they could be accessed for free.

Laughter: A Gift or Two for You

2011-10-28T11:17:00.000-07:00

I'm writing up a proper post but struggling to find the time. In the meantime, may I offer you the links to a laugh or two:

Funniest (and most realistic?) guide to packing you'll read for a while, from Canada's brilliant contribution to the knitting world, the Yarn Harlot, currently on a multi-city book tour through the US with, perhaps, some wardrobe limitations. At least, this description of her packing suggests that might be the case. Be sure to come back and tell me how much you love the idea of a designated eating shirt . . .

And if that didn't get you spluttering in your coffee, this confession about heat and the middle-aged wardrobe will do it. I instantly recognized myself here, remembering the moment when I walked into an overheated (to me) classroom last week, and commented on the room's stuffiness, only to have them protest my idea of opening windows because they found the temperature cozy. Of course, as this link points out, they were all inwardly assessing and labelling my response as completely reminiscent of their aging aunt's. . . . Again, come back and tell me how accurately and how hilariously this clever post reflected your experience. They certainly nailed mine.

Go now, laugh, you can thank me later . . .

Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-26T16:25:00.000-07:00

My words seem to contain too many sighs these days, so I'll keep them to myself and offer you some images instead. . .

Fall colours . . .

I wonder if the goldfish apprehends the coming winter . . .

Callicarpa's beautiful purple berries growing more dramatic daily. . .

Broad-leafed maple's broad leaves catching wherever the wind blows them . . .

My marking today, all day, has been pleasantly interrupted by a game of WordFeud I'm playing on my smartphone with my daughter. I'm not keen to add apps, generally, as they wear batteries more quickly and tie me into patterns I'd prefer freedom from, but I know she's been staying in, eating little, sleeping less, so I'm happy to encourage her in this small engagement with life, a tiny step back to whatever comes next. It's not an entirely wordless Wednesday then, but one whose words are rationed. I'm sure you'll understand. . . .

Visible at the Opera

2011-10-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

Besides being distracted from some family troubles by a park visit with a very active pre-schooler, Paul and I had the great pleasure of attending West Side Story, the first offering of Vancouver Opera's 2011-12 season. We've been season subscribers for a few years now, and some of you might know that I live-blogged for the opera the past two seasons. Much as I enjoyed that, it was a relief on Saturday night to have no other responsibilities than dressing up to enjoy my husband's company and then simply soaking in the spectacle.

However, I did discharge on other responsibility, getting Paul played photographer for a Visible Monday shot. The lighting's not ideal here, obviously, but you get an idea of the nearly baroque patterning on my Simon Chang dress (viscose knit, so easy to wear). The back is plain black which doesn't really do much to tone down the noisy front, festooned with faux jewelry printed on the fabric. I like to think the simple shape keeps the chaos in check, but the dress certainly doesn't conform to some of the principles I've been trying to adopt since the last Paris trip. . . .

Nevertheless, I couldn't resist it when I saw it in my favourite local boutique, and I was surprised how much my guy liked it. Here he is, as we were both captured by the VOA photographer for the Vancouver Opera Facebook page. Notice that his tie picks up the colour of some of my dress's "jewels."

Recap: Dress, Simon Chang; Silver faux-snakeskin clutch, Club Monaco; Fluevog shoes

We finished up the evening by meeting our daughter and son-in-law at Bacchus for our traditional post-opera pizza and Guinness. A lovely evening overall.

Be sure to check out the other blogs linked to Patti's Visible Monday, especially since Patti's got a wonderful giveaway contest happening.

Playing in the Park: Good For What Ails You!

2011-10-23T13:14:00.000-07:00

A very good antidote to whatever ails you: playing int the park with an almost three-year old. A risk-taker

who nonetheless appreciates a supporting hand

who can lead one on a merry chase

and really knows how to dig for fun

an almost-three-year old who appreciates silliness in all its wondrous variety

and knows the value of a prolonged belly laugh. . .

Thanks for all your kind comments on my last post. We spent a reassuring evening with my mom on Friday. She'd been out walking far too much, not able to resist the invitations of friends nor able to tolerate her own company in the condo's quiet. Three days after having a six-inch incision to one's abdominal wall, this is not the best approach to healing at any age, never mind at 80. Despite us having called that we were coming over to make dinner, she'd gone out again, walking with her gentleman friend unbeknownst to us, so I was a bit alarmed at not getting an answer when we rang her buzzer. But Paul saw them walking down the street, and we hustled her inside, made her a cup of tea, and I marked papers while she dozed off. Paul whipped up a meal of coq au vin over mashed potatoes, accompanied by asparagus, and followed with Green Tea ice cream -- she ate it up with gusto! Since then, as before, my siblings have divvied up mealtimes and arranged the sponge bathing and dressing changing. We're so lucky to be able to share these responsibilities.

My daughter's situation is still tough, but she's resilient, and I know she'll be better off in the long run. We're all reeling from a sense of betrayal and are at a loss to know how to respond, having someone we accepted as part of the family for several years walk away from us without apology or explanation or farewell. Yes, that's cryptic, and I'm afraid I can't do better for now. Again, my daughter's lucky to have a family (partners/in-laws included) that supports her absolutely, mirroring her grief and indignation, helping her find humour in the dark. I'm meeting her in an hour or so for some retail therapy. I'll have Kleenex in my bag. . . . and some almost-three-year old anecdotes. . .

Doing My Best . . .

2011-10-21T07:50:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. That expression "A mother is only as happy as her least happy child" is quite true, and I'm hurting for one of mine at the moment. Enough said, as privacy must be respected, but some things were so much easier when they were small.

And my mother is recovering at home from a surgery to remove some malignancies that cropped up since her surgery two or three years ago. While that earlier surgery was much more extensive, it was done by a robot through a very small incision, and she bounced back very quickly. This surgery involved a 6-inch incision through abdominal muscle, and she was sent home the same day, lowering the risk of infection, but challenging family resources. My siblings have been great, but I'm feeling guilty at not being able to do more. Living several hours away, with little flexibility during term to take time off, other than cancelling classes, I can only manage weekend visits, but those always carry a big marking load. As well, we try to visit our kids (and Nola!) when we're over and it's easy to get stretched far too thin, re-entering the work week exhausted. Not sustainable, and I've got a persistent facial twitch right now that's warning me to slow down.

But we're going to Vancouver today and I'll try to do a shift or two at mom's. I'm hoping I'll be able to do some marking while I'm there, 'cause that pile is not going to mark itself before Monday, sadly. If I weren't feeling so stressed, I'd tell you some good things about how well my poetry class has been going. And I'd tell you that we're heading to the Vancouver Opera's season opener, West Side Story, which I know doesn't qualify as everyone's idea of opera but will probably put plenty of "bums in seats" thus keeping the VOA's financial books healthy enough to stage the rest of the season. Having caught the occasional episode of Glee recently, I'm quite keen to hear Bernstein's music sung, excited to see what the set looks like, and ready to savour the costume details and be caught up in the drama. A welcome distraction.

The apples in the tree above caught my eye on the way to work last week. As far as I can tell, the tree is a heritage tree that's been absorbed into the waterfront park landscaping. I imagine that deer and raccoons are happy to scoop up the windfall apples when they get a chance. In the fall sunshine, they gleam brightly . . . premature Christmas ornaments. Grab happiness when you find it, even if it's in these small but joyful pulses, right?

Fall Colours

2011-10-19T15:01:00.000-07:00

I'm busy marking today, but that doesn't mean I couldn't wander out in the sunshine with my camera

and share some of the garden's fall glory with you . . .

Such a distinctive palette autumn offers us . . .

a mature palette

with rich depths and surprising bright accents

subtle glints

ageing at its most attractive, no?

A rather elegiac beauty, but nonetheless lovely for that hint of melancholy

And speaking of melancholy, I suppose I should wander back to my armchair and marking pen. . .

Are you enjoying the fall colour where you are? Or is your summer still hanging on? Perhaps an early-onset winter? Or, in the southern hemisphere, another season altogether with summer's ease finding you in linens and flip-flops?

We've switched over to our winter curtains now and the woodstove is giving off its comforting heat as nights bring that flirtation with frost that seems novel for a few days each year until familiarity breeds contempt. . . .

Running to Visibility on Monday

2011-10-17T07:27:00.000-07:00

Luckily, I had these photos queued up for Visible Monday before the weekend, grabbing my husband to take them before I headed out to work. Otherwise, given the busy-ness of the past couple of days, especially yesterday's Half Marathon (sorry, but I'm still riding the adrenalin-and-endorphins mix, and can't resist tooting my horn about achieving my Personal Best), I'd have had to disappoint myself and bow out of this week's round.

And that would be a big disappointment, because even though I'm late to join the parade, I'm loving being part of this crowd. I love Patti's idea of increasing the Visibility of
we
women of a certain age, and I'm intrigued by the various ways we present ourselves. Can't wait to make the rounds of my fellow bloggers when I find a few minutes -- so much inspiration!

Anyway, here I am, in my JBrand cognac cords, fast becoming a comfortable staple, and here worn with a darker cognac v-neck jersey top and my Smythe black jacket. Two-tone oxfords (B2/Browns) and the lovely silk scarf I won at Hostess' blog a few years ago.

Seeing the outfit photographed makes me wonder if I should wear a long-sleeved top under this 3/4-sleeved jacket -- does that look a bit confused? . I also wonder if the look would have been cleaner without the scarf. I felt great wearing the ensemble as is, but don't mind honing by sitting in the editor's seat . . . hmmmm, thoughts?

Now I'll hobble off to work, my body protesting in several spots against having been pushed so hard yesterday. . . .Hope your week begins well, this Monday morning.

I did it! One Running Goal Achieved, Check!

2011-10-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't already heard me exulting on Facebook and Twitter, I finally broke the two-hour mark in the Divas on the Run Half Marathon along the beautiful beachside trails near Jericho Park today. Spectacular October weather -- blue skies, crisp temperatures -- and a well-organized race with a very small field of runners made this one a joy to run, and I suspect I'll be back here in future years.

But what really made this a favourite run for me was my younger sister's pacing. She's done sub 1.40 Half Marathons before, and without any personal goal for this one, she offered to calculate a pace for me and try to keep me at it. I rarely run with anyone else and I don't see her often, so for the first 8 or 10 kilometres, I enjoyed catching up on her news and that of other family members. But before the halfway mark, noting that we were on target to meet my goal, she told me to stop talking, keep running, and concentrate on efficient breathing. Around 12 or 13 kilometres, my right ankle protested the change from uphill trail running to downhill pavement, and we had to take a minute or so for some stretching -- the next kilometre or so was iffy as I tried to will my right leg to relax into the run. And once she knew I was back on track, my sister showed little mercy. In fact, at about 16 K, she began running ahead, challenging me to keep up. I kept being sure I needed to stop, and she kept saying she knew I could do it.

And I did! We pulled into the final stretch to realize that we were going to break my 2-hour goal with a comfortable margin. In fact, my time was 1:55! I shaved over 6 minutes off my previous Personal Best, and taught myself something about my capabilities. This was the first run I've done without taking any walking breaks, and the only one where there's been any science/math involved in the pacing. I'm not sure I ever need to break this PB, nor that I ever could, but for now, I'm basking in the glory!

So a huge thank you to my sister, Rachel.
And another thank you to my daughter, Megan, a newly-fledged RMT who has just begun working at Vancouver's LuxeBeautyLounge -- Meg gave me a relaxation massage yesterday afternoon to ensure a good night's sleep, and then today after Rachel, Paul, and I had happily chowed down on crepes at our favourite spot, Meg gave me a very welcome therapeutic massage targeted at those key running muscles. Limped to her place, walked home comfortably. I love me a good massage!

And Now Some Red, Island-Style

2011-10-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

And here are some more red-splashed images, but these are quintessentially island-style, rather than Parisian

Images of a wooden sabot we bought secondhand from a friend's yard sale a few years ago, which hasn't got as much use as we'd hoped.

Paul's not finding nearly as much time as he'd thought he might, in retirement, having taken on a variety of consulting contracts, but he's trying to refurbish this little boat so that one day the grandchildren might row and sail it in our little bay.

Meanwhile, though, I just enjoy the abstract designs it offers -- talk about colour-blocking!

Nature gives it a run for its money, red-wise -- these cotoneaster berries, against their foliage, hint at Christmas just around the corner. . .

Meeting today, and then I'm heading to Vancouver where I'll be running a Half Marathon with my sister on Sunday, all going well. What are you up to this weekend?

Red Surprises, Paris Style

2011-10-12T18:40:00.000-07:00

I found yesterday's abrupt turnaround from long weekend to mid-week full-teaching-day intensity exhausting, and so I skipped my Pilates class and came home for some extra R&R. Got here and found my poor husband working in the rain to fix our septic pump. . . Not so relaxing, for either of us. . .

But he did fix it, and we kicked back for the evening, finishing off the first season of Treme on DVDs -- love that show!

And today, restored, I've managed to finish my Research Leave report, mark a stack of essays, and begin prepping the next assignment for my literature class, the last assignment I have to prepare this term (save the exams, which I don't have to get to for a few weeks).

I even managed a short run, and I turned the leftover Thanksgiving turkey into a big pot of soup for tonight's dinner.

And rustled up these photos of some delightful graffiti that we spotted in Paris' 20th arrondissement. If you click to enlarge these photos, you'll spot the artist's signature, Nemo, on the briefcase.

The 20th requires some commitment to get to -- it's not on the standard tourist path, but we were craving a break from the very elements that I love. One too many beautifully dressed woman, a soupçon too much hauteur, and, perhaps for Paul more than for me, too many windows to "lick" or drool over.

The 20th is much more "real," housing a broad mix of immigrants alongside the gentrifying artists and young people trying to catch a break on housing costs. Certainly, it can be rough around the edges, but we savoured its sights, sounds, and aromas one Saturday in April. We even struck up a lovely lunchtime conversation with an Algerian-Parisian and his Guatemalan wife (she acknowledged being such a rarity, as a Guatemalan in France, that she laughingly speculated to being one of 18!) who bought me a kir royal after I admired its pretty colour when their elderly Algerian friend drank his. And we had an expanse of time to chat, as our single waiter rushed to serve at least 40 of us seated on sidewalk tables, perhaps another 20 or so inside. Across the street, a market offering vegetables, meats, and a plethora of antique/vintage/rummage items beckoned . . . a lively din from the crowds was the perfect accompaniment to our meal.

Later, wandering the streets, how charming to spot these figures, especially the cats which appear to stroll the sidewalks.

And the red balloon, of course. Who would not be enraptured by a red balloon, pulling a figure in a paper boat. . .

It made me happy then, has me smiling again today . . . I hope it works for you as well. What else has brought you joy lately, even in tiny packages?

Fall for Navy . . . Visibly

2011-10-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

It's pelting down right now, and I could really use some cheery yellow boots like the ones Patti models in today's instalment of Visible Monday.

But it was gorgeous yesterday when we sat down to our Thanksgiving Turkey with our son and a friend. It felt a bit odd, our daughters all having their dinner in Vancouver without us, but it would have been one weekend too many to travel (for all of us), especially with the craziness that is BC Ferries on the busiest weekend of the year. And although we missed them, it makes me happy to know that they can pull off a festive family meal without their dad or I presiding. They phoned and e-mailed photos, and it was pleasingly obvious how much they enjoy each other's company.

And I wouldn't have been the best host anyway, stuck under a pile of marking as I have been. I did make the pumpkin pie, and I did get dressed for dinner, although this isn't the outfit I wore. Rather, this bit of Visibility was a teaching outfit I loved a couple of weeks ago and photographed to share. My Acne boots, a denim skirt (Esprit, several years old) a Banana Republic cardigan (also several years old) and a fall-toned print scarf. Easy to wear, casual but smart, in my opinion. I'll repeat this one, for sure.

Interestingly, even in a cursory perusal of today's Visible Monday offerings, I'm noticed small synchronicities: Mardel is wearing denim & boots as I am; Lisa and I are both in navy, although very different outfits otherwise; and, as I mentioned already, Patti's boots would suit the rain hammering down on my skylight. Check out these Visible Women and more over here.

Fall's Beach Therapy

2011-10-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

Hard to recognize this scene as a sunrise, isn't it? Yet the fog's grey blurring of the horizon was subverted by that thin line of illumination, which gradually broadened ever so slightly while donning the peach that so transforms the seascape below. You really do need to click the photos to full size to appreciate Nature's cleverness, albeit transmitted through my photographic limitations.

I love the way marine traffic enlivens that band of light, declaring it a window of possibilities, comings and goings that beckon . . . .

Turning my head to the right (as I did for the photo below) produces a more solidly shrouded scene, but it shows where I waded in up to my knees after my run yesterday. I've decided that if the weather and the tides cooperate, I'm going to try this therapy against inflammation and muscle pain. Bone-chillingly cold but so is the icepack I'd otherwise resort to. Yesterday my "long run" was short, 12k, in deference to the tapering required before next weekend's half marathon, but I also waded in after my 20k run last weekend. An envigorating cooldown, and it seemed to have the desired effect -- plus it made the shower afterward rather marvellous!

And given that I was wading barefoot through seaweed, thick to knee level, I couldn't help but think a spa might charge me a premium, slapping some fancy name (thalassotherapy?) on this organic approach. I'm just hoping it keeps my Achilles tendons from complaining -- I promise I'll give them a rest if they give me this one more week . . .

Meanwhile, though, the fog has lifted, and although rain is all over the weather forecast, the sky is blue and the crisp air is welcoming the sun's warmth in that happy congruence that is the best of October. A day for Thanksgiving indeed!

Dictionary, Well-Dressed . . .

2011-10-07T10:59:00.000-07:00

Big stack of student papers to mark this weekend, but I'm pacing myself. This morning I'm catching up with my good friend Alison for a walk; last night Paul and I had a lovely meal at a new spot in town; Saturday I'll work my way through the weekend papers; Sunday we'll enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner early so that we can truly give Thanks on Monday for the leftovers (my favourite part, quite honestly).
.

And this afternoon I'm meeting with a small group of International Students, English-as-Second-Language speakers, to talk about poetry. This is a small initiative I began working on before my leave last year, an International Students Book Club, for those students who would like to study Canadian literature as a way of knowing our culture better -- and just because they love literature in general -- but who avoid English courses after the basic 1st-year requirements because these tend to be courses that bring down their GPA. My work in our university's Writing Centre convinced me that many international students want to read and talk about literature, but few of them were showing up in any of my upper-level courses, and I want to hear their perspectives on the works I study and love.

So this is a volunteer activity, adding to my workload and held at the inconvenient but mutually available time of Friday afternoon. . . .and I'm looking forward to it very much. I've just been reviewing some poems by Jan Zwicky and anticipating how much my readings of them will change through the afternoon.

And the outfit? Not what I'm wearing this afternoon, but rather a demonstration of what I was wearing the day I was called a "well-dressed dictionary": black v-neck T (Spanner); black pleated skirt (Aritzia); grey vest with fabulously deep pockets (Line); and black Tsubo heels; glasses (Chrome Hearts); and necklace bought from a charming artisan/jeweler in Lisbon whose card I've sadly lost. Frown lines my own with some help from Mr. Sun. Whose presence I nonetheless appreciate very much . . .

Your weekend? Having fun? Balancing work and play? Do tell . . .

A Sunny Visitor

2011-10-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

Wow! Visible Monday was so much fun, and I had many new and welcome visitors. But we don't only dress up and show you what we wore around here. Nor is this enterprise only a one-woman show. Sometimes the man of the house chips in as well, as this past weekend when he came in to ask me if I wanted to take a photo of the giant starfish he'd found raiding his crab pot.

Although you see it here at shore, just beyond the kayak, Paul had carried it back on the kayak with him, just for my readers, when he'd pulled up the trap, 50 or so metres from shore, and found it clinging there, having just digested every last scrap of the bait (salmon trimmings leftover from this feast).

Very cleverly, this sunflower starfish (Pycnopodia helianthoides, to be more technical) didn't even enter the trap, but pushed its stomach (centre, underside) through the net to pull the fish into itself.

Paul even lifted him up so that we could get a closer view.

He treated Mr. Star very gently considering that the star or someone like him has emptied the pot of bait the last three attempts, leaving us only a persistently hopeful memory of one wonderful meal this summer when, through beginner's luck, we feasted on five crabs.

I'm not convinced it's a fair tradeoff, but I was tickled that Paul brought this sunstar to shore for our viewing.

And I hope you enjoyed visiting with this denizen of the deep. Perhpas not quite as striking a visitor as Sunday's, but certainly more colourful (and you might be interested that he moved off quite comfortably -- and surprisingly quickly -- as soon as he was put back into the water, as soon as his photoshoot was done).

Thinking Visibility on Monday

2011-10-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

I had thought I'd join the Visible Monday brigade today, but I'd be cheating if I did so with this photo. This is not what I'm wearing today, but rather a shot of an outfit that got me many compliments when I wore it the week before last. I've been holding it back because the photos (taken by my husband when I arrived at our Vanc'r apartment after a long day, both of us a bit tired, the lighting not great) came nowhere near reflecting how good it felt on nor how great I'm still convinced it looked.

I've never got so many compliments -- one from a man (who looked normal, well-dressed, reasonable social skills) who told me he'd snapped a shot on his phone because he thought the look would suit his girlfriend well and wanted to come over to tell me how perfect it was, proportions, colour, boots, etc. (I know, more than a bit odd, but he seemed sincere and otherwise balanced).

The Eileen Fisher sweater is not as drapey in this photo as IRL -- you get a better idea here. It's a dream to wear, and a change of colour for me, but judging by the positive feedback it works for my complexion. I'm still convincing myself, which may be part of why I fight the photos a bit. The pants are my new Jbrand cords, a dream to wear, so comfy -- and the midrise hits at just the perfect waist height to prevent muffin top. My Acne boots are proving to be the staple I predicted they'd be, justifying their cost quickly, working down that CPW.

And in this closer shot, you can almost see my favourite Karyn Chopik necklace and, if you look closely, the feather extensions in my hair.

Interesting, the fight to stay visible that Visible Monday represents for women over 50 begins here with me wanting to suppress images photos offer, to try to overcome a gap between some imaginary hoped-for me and the reality.

p.s. Amused to see how much the colour palette, and the overall idea of this outfit resembles what Une Femme is modelling today as her entry in the Visible Monday panoply. Of course, hers is a much more elegant interpretation, with a scarf.

And p.p.s I've decided I'll join in, even though this is not a photo of What I Wore Today, especially since I spot Lisa in the crowd modelling the gorgeous outfit she wore for her birthday dinner last Friday.

My Menagerie . . .

2011-10-02T16:17:00.000-07:00

Not the best photo, because I didn't want to open the door and scare our visitor away, and also because I was in a hurry and forgot to suppress the flash, so the reflection of its bounce obscures the view about. Still, you can see that someone's making himself quite comfortable after what was probably a satisfying repast, all courses belonging to the 10-metre diet, the 10 metres happening right in my garden!

Startled by the flash, though, Mr. Moocher didn't stick around, deciding he'd better go look for dessert and then take his post-prandial nap elsewhere.

And below, you can see him prancing away, just through the deck rails. . . .

But he'll be back. How do I know? Well, he's left a few leaves unchewed on my Arbutus uneda (strawberry tree).

Between him and the two raccoon kits who were running an obstacle race on the side porch at 4 a.m. last Wednesday, I'm feeling very Dr. Doolittle. Life on the island . . . .

Stylish? Word!

2011-10-01T16:54:00.000-07:00

One of the treats that eases me way through the week is stopping for a Brioche Royale and an Americano at Nanaimo's Mon Petit Choux on Thursday morning. Not only does this treat save me some breakfast-making time -- which I can use for hair-primping, blog-checking, and last minute shoe-changing -- it also makes me feel pampered and coddled, even if the goodness has to be crunched into fifteen minutes or less (any longer, and my chances of scoring a parking lot within walking distance of my office become dismal).

Punctuating my lecture prep with bites of rich buttery fragrance, washed down with strong, hot, and cream-laden coffee, the day ahead seems promising, and the weekend shimmers just beyond it.

This past Thursday, I even gathered my ideal epitaph while prepping and sipping and savouring: a neighbour sitting at a nearby table approached me to settle a definition discussion she was having with a friend. Could I confirm that ganache was the shiny glaze that covered some pastry items? Not only could I, but I whipped out my handy smartphone, googled the term, and brought proof over to settle the debate. And for that, my neighbour gifted me with this comment: "You're a well-dressed dictionary"! I have to say, if they write that on my tombstone, I'll be a very happy ghost. . . .

No laptop hobo am I, just a well-dressed dictionary enjoying my Thursday treat.

Marine Scenes for Busy Days . . . .

2011-09-28T15:20:00.000-07:00

Unlike this boat, I am not sailing easily through my days, at the moment.

Rather, I seem to be freighted down with a variety of tasks, concerns, and activities -- many of them enjoyable and envigorating, I hurry to add, but all of them detracting from interesting blogging. And I am not finding time to comment on the blogs I love, if and when I make time for on-line visits. Still, I'm here, I'm healthy, and my full days are generally happy, if fatiguing ones.

And some days, I even arrive home in time to grab my camera and capture tranquil scenes at the beach . . .

and the rainbow's promise . . .

Weekend food-iness!

2011-09-26T07:42:00.000-07:00

This weekend was all kinds of busy family fun although it got off to a frantic start Friday afternoon when I got to the ferry just in time to catch the 3:10, only to realize I'd left my charge card at my hairstylist's. BC Ferries doesn't do debit cards, and I didn't have enough cash. The "no-name cash machine" at the ferry terminal didn't work for me (1st time my fault, used the wrong pin; 2nd time promised $$ but didn't dispense -- luckily gave receipt admitting truth before shutting down with an Error message), so zipped off to my bank for cash, back to Ronei's for my card, and made it onto the 5 ferry.

Dinner at La Brasserie Friday night, right in our Vancouver 'hood, good Alsatian food in a convivial atmosphere. I had oysters, then bouillabaisse; Paul had his usual paté and then pork; we shared a v. nice bottle of Bordeaux.

Ran the seawall Saturday morning, then spent the rest of the day alternating between marking papers and taking breaks to read the weekend newspapers.

Then Saturday night, we walked over to Daughter #3's apartment, where she and her husband, both professional cooks (although she's left that career behind) had made a wonderful meal.

I wish I could remember what was in the lovely cocktail they greeted us with -- Perhaps she'll speak up in the comments and advise. All I can remember is gin and lemon bitters, strawberry juice and basil . . . And I can remember it was very good.

And this elegant version of a caesar salad was fabulous! Much easier to eat than the big pieces one chases around a bowl, these nestled spears were easy to cut. Beautifully assembled on plates beforehand (bottom pic), they were then drizzled with a sumptuous caesar dressing and lavished with generous shavings of parmesan, then draped with a very, very thin ribbon of flatbread into which a fillet or two of anchovy had been baked -- a very nice interpretation of the salad's usual croutons and anchovies.

As you can see, fresh pasta was also on the menu as was a wonderfully rich cake and a gorgeous cheeseboard.

A lovely meal -- this parenting gig can be a very. good. thing.

Then Sunday morning we met little girl Nola and her parents for crepes at our favourite spot. We had our usual #5 with buckwheat; she had a strawberry crêpe which seemed to make her very happy. Followed that up with a little shopping junket up the street at The Gap where Nana got to choose some fun clothes for Nola's wardrobe.

Missed the 3 ferry coming home, so although I left the Vanc'r apartment at 2:15, I wasn't home until 7:30. Still, I got some marking done and then had a chance to read the papers -- AND I was pleased to find they've re-instated Indian Butter Chicken on the BC Ferries menu. Enforced time to myself and someone else is cooking food I like? Could be worse. . . .

Now it's head down, nose to the grindstone, and into Week 4 of the academic term. The weather's surrendered completely to the Fall storms and it's blustery out there, every shade of grey you can think of, sky and sea in gloomy conversation. Are you hunkering down where you are as well?

It's the Weekend! More France!

2011-09-23T08:25:00.000-07:00

I'm off to my stylist's for a cut-and-colour refresher, then we'll head to Vancouver for the weekend A huge batch of marking to get through, but interrupted by some Nola time, a seawall run, and dinner at my daughter's place -- where not only are there two fully-trained cooks with years of wonderful experience in great restaurants, but there is also a newly-minted, just-passed-all-her-exams Registered Massage Therapist. (doesn't that combo sound like every mother's dream?!). Glasses will be raised!

But today's list is impossibly long and I have to run. So I'll leave you with these photos of the Hôtel des Arts et Meacute;tiers in Metz, France. By now, you can probably tell I loved that city. . . .

Have a great weekend. Do leave me a comment, if you have a minute, and tell me what you're up to.

Teaching in Style? Wearing Jeans, Talking about Language

2011-09-21T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm surprised how much fun I've been having with my 1st-year classes this term. Anyone who teaches university English will tell you it's not a particularly desired gig, and I've ended up with four sections this term: three of University Writing (a composition/rhetoric course) and one of a Literature Survey). There is a ton of marking, the students are rarely there by choice, and the work isn't obviously connected to my own scholarly interests.

But we're free to put together our own curriculum, and I always build the foundation for the term's research project around some topic of broad social concern that interests me and that has implications for citizenship. This term, I blithely decided we'd think about the politics of the English language, fanning out from Bill Bryson's history of its evolution to a consideration of living in ESL, the debates over descriptive vs. prescriptive grammar, language and class, disappearing languages, the purported degeneration of language in the face of technology, David Crystal's book on Texting etc. Then towards the end of summer, I started panicking over my choices, worrying that student would perceive the topic, and Bryson's book, as dry. ("Yay," one student rolls her eyes at another, "We're reading a book about the evolution of the English language. I bet that's going to be fun. NOT!")

But from the first day of term, I'm delighted to report, students have been surprisingly enthusiastic. We've debated the need for strictly correct grammar, using this charming animation as a starting point, written short autobiographies of our lives in language, considered the implications of English competence as academic barrier via this Ted talk, and read, analyzed, and summarized scholarly articles on pedagogy around text-speak vs. standard English. One major reward has been noticing the ESL students in my classes paying particular attention and then finding space in our discussions to bravely join in -- and to see the native-speaking students listening carefully, having been alerted by Patricia Ryan's talk to some of the challenges those international students have had to overcome.

My Literature survey course engages and cheers me as well, and I'm currently trying to move our lively in-class conversations about poetry onto the Moodle forum where I might be able to capture part of them in all their fluid glory.

Meanwhile, though, it's my work-at-home day, and I'm trying to make a dent in those fall lists. Worked on my essay for an hour this morning and am determined to start drafting a proposal today AND to finish my Leave Report. Have to fit in my run as well. You're probably busy as well. So I'll stop now, leaving you with this photo of What I Wore to teach one day this week: my new ACNE boots, brilliantly comfortable; my favourite jeans, Denham; a black 3/4 sleeve, v-neck T; chocolate gold beads, my double-tour watch, carved silver First Nations bracelet; pose by Wendy B.

Is that Fall? or Collapse? Listing . . .

2011-09-19T07:47:00.000-07:00

Wow! It's not officially arrived yet, but Fall is kicking my ass, schedule-wise, and it's showing up right here. I'm letting an extra day or two lapsed between posts, and when I get to them, my enthusiasm lacks conviction. While I often finish my runs by scribbling ideas for future posts, they're generally ideas that require more time to pursue than seems to be available. Even a quick foray into the garden with my camera seems a challenge recently, plus the weather hasn't made that terribly appealing. As you've noticed, I've been pulling out photos from last spring's travels to share, but that trick has to be rationed lest you abandon me in droves.

So I'm trying something completely different today: I'm going with point form and with lists. Killing two birds with one stone, I'm going to make a post of getting myself organized. You've been warned, and I'll understand if you choose to leave now. No hard feelings. Really.

Have they all gone, then? Now, where was I.
Oh, yes . . . .

Fall to-do's:
--Write Research Leave Report (convincing Board that 70% salary was justified, thus ensuring possibility of future leaves.Almost Finished. Yay!!
--Write Application for (very small) Grant to support a Book Club I've started for International ESL students Finished & Submitted
--E-mail respective deans, support people, re plans for this year's Book Club; choose dates; make up and distribute posters; send e-mail to list-serve First task done, still have to choose dates, etc.*
--Finish course outline for next term's ENGL 450 so I can get book order to bookstore for last week's deadline. Not Done! Must be done this week! ***
--Write proposal for Canlit essay collection CFP
--Write proposal for Slayage conference
--Write proposal for ACCUTE (November deadline!)
-- Decide whether to write proposal for Urban Lit panel
-- Figure out how to set up effective Forums on Moodle
--Contact other members of Recruiting Committee to set up work toward spring recruiting fair.

--See hearing specialist, dentist, doctor (long overdue pap, especially) Appointment done for hearing, dentist is next week, doctor's appointment has to be re-scheduled, AGAIN!**
--Need to visit my mom soon!
--Get down to Victoria to visit son and his GF. This very pleasant to-do accomplished this weekend. Check!
--Run a half-marathon.Registered for one October 16th
--Knitting -- should do finishing on the mohair dress; finish knitting tweed dress; start gloves; make more socks for Christmas gifts; choose cardi pattern to make for Nola; make the Cobblestone sweater for Paul
--Try to manage some de-cluttering Sorted out 7 or 8 pairs of shoes I'm not wearing and took them to Consignment Store. Gave one really good pair to a daughter. Several bags of clothes ready for Goodwill and have moved to trunk of car for delivery.
--Need to spend at least a few hours in the garden on fall clean-up, bulbs, transplanting, etc. -- or at least enough time to delegate tasks to Paul. (so glad one of us is retired!)
--Must organize a family dinner soon, and what about Thanksgiving?

Ongoing background (daily-weekly stuff)
-- Prep courses each week; marking
YIKES!! Just realized that this includes re-reading novel for ENGL 125 by next week!! Get that book out now!
--Pilates classes x2
--Three shorter runs 6-8kms, easy; speed, stairs and one long weekend run (about 2 hours)
--Blogging -- and I'm behind again (still? always?) on my Reading Blog,
--Big stack of books to read. Big Stack!!

PERSONAL TO DOs for THIS WEEK:
Phone VOA to find out where our Opera tickets are
Renew memberships for UBC-MOA and for Vancouver Art Gallery
E-mail L.
Clear off/organize my desk so I can see past all the clutter.

I'm sure your lists are long as well. Any secrets for getting it all done? Any magic wands you'd care to share? Personal secretaries you'd like to lend out? Let me know, would you? Meanwhile, I'm off to prep tonight's class after which I'm phoning about the opera tix and phoning the Dr's office for an appointment. Check. Check.

(And did you notice that long, potentially overwhelming lists are considerably mitigated by pretty images? I'm trying to learn something from that. Photos courtesy of my garden . . .)

Surprising Beauty . . .

2011-09-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

In my recent post on the Metz Pompidou Centre, I mentioned Mark Kingwell's meditations on cities and architecture, particularly his thoughts on thresholds. I suspect Kingwell would have something to say about the location of the Pompidou Centre just outside the city proper, a slightly unpleasant walk from the train station along a roadway, backs to the town. In this location, the building contrasts sharply with "the other" Pompidou Centre, audaciously planted in the heart of Paris' Beaubourg neighbourhood.

This decision of the many bureaucracies involved in the Pompidou project to place the building at the outside margins of the city centre, and to favour car access over pedestrian comfort, may well have been the right decision for practical purposes. But it suggests that the project does not belongs to the people of Metz, and I would be curious to know how many of those who visit its exhibitions are local citizens.

Within the daily walking patterns of Metz citizenry are many wonderful examples of centuries and centuries worth of ambitious building, and I've already posted about some of these here, here, here, and here. So many, apparently, that this ruin of a centuries-old church in the Old City (not far from the Opera House) has become a backdrop for children's play, a crumbling toward the earth even as the earth's vegetation reaches out to engulf it.

Even as I was appalled at the graffiti desecrating the ancient walls, at the banality of the surrounding buildings, soulless solutions to housing workers (almost as appalled, I suppose, as the teens whose smoking spot we had invaded), I was mesmerized by the inspirational strength of those arcing geometries, the apertures' ability to parse that light into spiritual food. The golden Jaumont stone in the afternoon's declining sun brought the building ruins into conversation with architecture all over the city.

Far from those sun's rays, those beautiful ruins, we're getting ready to head out into the fall rains of a Northwest Pacific island, driving down to Victoria today to visit my son and his girlfriend and celebrate some recent achievements (my son finished his B.Comm; his GF her sommelier certification). Hope you enjoyed the pretty pictures and excuse the paucity of words . . . I'd love to hear what you're up to or what you're remembering this Saturday morning.

What I Wore -- Back to the Classroom

2011-09-14T07:19:00.000-07:00

Just so you know I don't spend all my time wandering the beach and thinking about liminality, I got Pater to snap some shots of me heading to work the other day. I don't have to be on campus 'til 2-ish on Mondays (then teach an evening class, get home at 10, and am back on campus at 8:30 Tuesday -- feels a bit weird!) so I had a bit of time to try two different approaches to completing this pants-top combo. I like how much the switch from black blazer to lightweight cardi (cashmere, the gift that keeps on giving!) changes the look.

Pants are microfibre, Club Monaco, 2 years old, and are annoyingly prone to wrinkles so good for one day's wearing only.
The lined silk chiffon Anne Klein tank top has also clocked 2 years in my closet and is much more of a champion, great for packing, belts nicely, and was comfortable in the classroom when I shuck the blazer/cardi to lessen the sauna effects (did I mention our classrooms are not air-conditioned and our first two weeks back have happened in 20 to 30 degree temps?). I generally can't wear orange, but seem to be able to handle it in this combo, and I love the ethnic-geometric print.
Cashmere cardi, so lightweight, is Club Monaco and in its 2nd year. At cpw, this one's practically free, an absolutely mainstay in my closet. Sadly, it's got a hole at one sleeve where it hooked on the edge of my watch, but the sleeves are double-knit at that point so the hole's only on the top layer.
The blazer is another mainstay, pictured often in my What I Wore. It's by Smythe, whose offerings as I've seen them this fall have disappointed me in a quest to get one more classic-with-an-edge blazer. Stupidly, I resisted a perfect olive-khaki one in the spring, and now that I want its like, it's not around. (Still, the lesson there is one it might be dangerous-to-my-wallet to heed.)
And the shoes are Repetto, not the ballet flats but rather with a très cool square heel, about an inch. Have to say that while they're classic, I probably wouldn't shell out for another pair of Repettos. On my foot, at least, they're not particularly comfy, and the look can be got for a much lower price. The sole is quite thin, and I suspect they'll need a replacement soon (which may clunkify the look a bit as well). But they are very French, of course, and let me walk a bit of my beloved Paris around with me for the day.

Today's my work-at-home day and requires several wardrobe changes: pjs will give way eventually to running gear and after my post-run shower I'll probably work in my fluffy bathrobe for a while before changing into comfy jeans and a cuddly sweater. The weather's shifted to grey skies, cooler temps, and a possibility of rain, and Pater's trying to augment the winter wood supply, getting the woodstove ready. We might even change from summer curtains (natural linen) to winter drapes (rust-coloured heavy velveteen) this week. Fall's is almost official . . . how are you adjusting to the shift?

Liminality and the Academy at the Beach!

2011-09-12T12:03:00.000-07:00

Sunrise is one kind of transition, of course, between night and day, dark and light, even old and new. My recent meditations about sunrise have much to do with the dawn, if you will, of a new term, especially the one that begins a new academic year as summer days shorten, fall leaves prepare to drop, sweaters drape over tank-topped shoulders, and shorts might have another week or two before getting folded away for another year.

Liminal spaces and times fascinate me, existing as they do on the margins of possibility, all overlapping edges of endings and beginnings. For teaching academics, especially, our diurnal rhythms must adjust rapidly to new schedules. Silent rooms in which we had time to filter readings, to capture our responses in writing, shift abruptly to stuffy classrooms where eager and recalcitrant students alike demand our guidance. Department secretaries remind us to e-file our syllabi and post our office hours; the bookstore advises that the deadline for next term's order approaches; committee chairs ask us to provide possible meeting times; and we look with dismay at the calls for proposals we hope to answer before December or November, even October deadlines. Two weeks ago, we were fretting over which sentence might make the best structural transition in an article we hoped to submit this fall; today, it seems that article will be rather dusty before we find our way back to it again.

Meanwhile, on the beach, the tides shift with the upcoming equinox, more sustained highs during the day, less dramatic lows. And everywhere evidence of geological time, vast and indifferent, perspective-giving.

I've been using the intricate, inviting, evocative topography of the beach over the past few weeks to tone my feet out of some threatening injuries, into better running condition. A loopy theory, perhaps, but I've been pleased to find it working for me, my runs getting longer, my Achilles happier. Millenia of meetings between tides and sandstone have carved imaginative shelves and layers and holes for my feet to curve into with consequent muscular adjustments through my body, a natural feedback that feels good, at least, even if the therapy is questionable.

And I'm trying to apply the principle to encourage myself to adapt to the fall schedule as wholeheartedly as my feet do to the challenging terrain, embracing the difference. Walking in my all-terrain Nike sandals, the whole world was spongy rubber, safe and predictable, but lacking rich sensory detail. Similarly, a world of supposedly ideal conditions--the quiet office, just me, my books, and my keyboard during my most productive hours each day--might end up feeling rather flat.

Right now, I'm struggling to get the term's administrative requirements met to clear some desk space. I'm also trying to leave room for a pile of "my own work" -- the essay I want to finish, the CFPs I want to respond to. But increasingly, I'm immersed in class prep and anticipate the imminent deluge of papers to mark. And I'm energized! I've met with three of my four classes so far (all 1st-year) and was excited to remember the full-on adrenaline buzz of teaching, the thrill of coaxing responses from initially reserved students, exposing them to new ideas and watching their tentative responses emerge into articulation. I love facilitating this development, helping them test a new idea, hear their peers, question other responses and then modify and build on them.

My blog, I realize, has so far been situated in another liminal space. So much advice about blogging suggests defining a niche; my original hope here was to integrate the academic and the quotidian domestic, particularly for a woman in (late) mid-life. Yet it turns out I've stayed rather high and dry on the beach of my personal life, with very little of my digital identity reflecting my working self. Not only have I written little about teaching and research here, but I've also been careful to shield Facebook updates from colleagues, hesitant to use my Materfamilias identity to post on academic sites.

Recently, I've been dipping hesitant toes into shallow waters and finding those waters rather pleasant, no sharks yet. I've joined the oh-so-addictive Twitter where my real-life identity links professional name with blogging self (see my badge in the RH column for recent Tweets); have begun posting links to my blog as my Facebook status; and even guest-posted on a site I was previously hesitant to comment at, seeing my Materfamilias self as potentially too frivolous in that more analytical environment.

Today's post is another step in moving toward myself. I hope you'll be willing to walk along with me, and I'll certainly remain mindful of the readership I value here. Ever so grateful that you take the time to visit me regularly, I will continue to post about living honestly, exuberantly, consciously, and stylishly in midlife. But I am also going to try to post occasionally about the joys and challenges of my academic life. I'm not sure what shape that writing will take, what the possibilities are for honest analysis, description, and confession when it's also so important to respect the privacy of that very privileged space, the academic seminar.

Barefoot walking is vulnerable but adaptive, especially along the shoreline. Let's see where it takes me. . . .

Another Golden Day, Thinking . . .

2011-09-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

I know. You're thinking this is the same sunrise photo you saw here last post. Or you know it's a different one, but you're thinking "Enough already with the pretty sunrises." I know what you mean. I sometimes chastise myself with that phrase while grabbing my camera to record yet another daily miracle, my husband still soundly sleeping upstairs, the world quiet around me.

But look at the photo above, the photo below, and imagine, perhaps savour, the minutes it took to effect that difference in colour, in light. What could we do, in so many minutes, to make such a difference? Perhaps the slowing down to watch changes us as well, our darks turning light. . . Perhaps we could learn to release our need for something new, perhaps we might find the new in the old, the recurrent, the daily, the repetitive.

My own experiment with taking time to observe each morning, rather than jumping on-line first thing led to different results than you might have predicted (or you might have been more realistic thanmeI). While I relished the quiet space I opened up for myself, I learned, in that space, that I would benefit more from saving it for more stressful pockets of the day. And I remembered that I can find it in yoga classes (a delight new to me, finally, this summer), in running (when I'm in the zone), sitting in my armchair with a cup of tea in the afternoon, or walking by myself in the evening. In fact, enjoyable as it was to sit quietly in the morning, I had to acknowledge that my working schedule throughout term means getting to the ferry on time. Once up, showering, getting some breakfast, and remembering to pack my lunch, Pilates gear, and marked student papers will be the priority, not breathing deeply and enjoying the sunrise. In that case, checking out the day's news (and a few FaceBook updates, a favourite blog or two, three or four Tweets) while I munch on muesli seems a reasonable way to enter my schedule.

This Saturday morning though, an exhilarating first week of teaching behind me, awake frustratingly early at 5:30 with no chance of falling back to sleep, I ended up sitting on the deck stairs drinking my tea. The cat had been looking fearfully about as she gulped her food, and I thought my presence might deter the raccoons (we have a theory about the "protection racket" they've organized, the percentage of cat food she's supposed to hand over to them regularly). She visibly relaxed into her meal as I settled on the top step with my large bone china mug steaming its fragrantly smoky brew into the late summer dawn. The first of the season's cruise ships had just moved its glittering behemoth presence out of our view, and we watched the quiet drama of gulls defying gravity, a small boat's wake scoring a line across the water.

Not that there aren't troubles. My mother's health, worries in my children's lives, sorrows I don't share in this space. Life is never as idyllic as these photographs might suggest. But it offers moments. And cultivating attention to those moments not only strengthens me for the tough stuff but sometimes feels like a reward for enduring.

So here we are. Saturday morning. Just another day, beginning. . .

Changes . . .

2011-09-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

It's transition time here with all the sunrise promise of new beginnings. But it's not as tranquil as this sunrise, and posting may be light as I adjust to my new schedule. Please stay tuned . . .

Dragging my Summer Heels . . .

2011-09-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, another academic year begins for the students, and my daily routine changes drastically. So this Labour Day weekend, I put thoughts of labour to the side, and we played. It was hard work, all that playing, but I was ready for it.

Friday night, we were lucky enough to get last-minute tickets to see Ray Lamontagne. I'm not sure what was more impressive, his music or his fans' very obvious devotion. We were probably among the 20 oldest people in the crowd, but I didn't feel out of place wearing my new Nicole Bridger top (this Vancouver designer, who learned to sculpt fabric while doing an internship with Vivienne Westwood after her Ryerson fashion degree, does great stuff ethically with clothing that works for both young and older women's real lives), a 3-year old pair of skinny dark denim jeans (Wilfred/Aritzia) my MOTB Fluevog shoes.

Besides being comfortable to wear and easy to pack, this outfit transitions very easily with a change of shoes, the addition of a jacket or cardi. Below, the simple addition of my Bompard cashmere cardi and a pair of pewter ballet flats took me to a family brunch on Sunday. And it's possible I may have worn it to expedite some retail exploration Saturday afternoon.

I also fit in a long seawall run Saturday morning, some b-sitting (with Pater, bien sûr) on Saturday evening, and got shanghaied into doing the Grouse Grind (Mother Nature's stairmaster, a 2.9 km trail with an elevation gain of 853 metres -- yikes!) yesterday afternoon.

And now the weekend, and with it my Research Leave, my summer vacation, all almost over. . . . new adventures begin tomorrow. For now, a last few hours of weekend sunshine at home on the island, where Paul photographed these outfits for me. Looking at them in this setting, I'm struck by how compatible the palettes are of garments and landscape. . . .makes me think of Une Femme's recent post on "Style by Natural Selection."

Does/did Labour Day see you winding down your summer as well? What adventures will fall bring?

September Dreaming Spring . . . French Spring . . .

2011-09-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Although I love where I live, especially when Orcas swim by. and although I appreciate September's cooling days with the return to classes, meeting new students, greeting my colleagues again, my thoughts do sometimes drift wistfully back to France. When they do, I remember that there are photos I haven't yet posted from this last spring's visit. I offered a few the other day of architectural details in Paris, mostly reflecting the rectilinear constraints of urban density.

The lines of "the other" Pompidou centre-- not the one in Paris' Beaubourg area, that is, but the one in Metz-- are much more liberated, swooping over the roof's curves to echo the clouds above, arranging themselves into hexagons apparently inspired by a woven bamboo hat, but which suggested Stars of David to me -- and I'm apparently not alone, according to this worthwhile article on the building.

We could quite happily have spent a day exploring this building and its exhibits, but we'd left our visit 'til the day of our departure, and we only had a morning before our train back to Paris.

But if you're at all interested in contemporary architecture in France, this building by Shigeru Ban, in collaboration with Jean de Gastines, is worth travelling to Metz to see. Especially since Metz itself is a repository of architectural history. If you'll remember, it's home to my favourite cathedral ever/so far, St. Maximin (as well as to the best quiche!).

There's also a glorious opera house and a railway station imposingly reflective of German imperialism as well as the fortifications surrounding the city.

Meanwhile, this soaring contemporary interior exults on a blue-skied, light-filled day, and I'm curious about what it will be like in the greyer season. I'm reading a fascinating book on cities right now from a philosopher's perspective (Mark Kingwell's Concrete Reveries) and his attention to thresholds -- between outside and inside, public and private, for example -- influences my re-viewing of the building through these photos, so that I see how transparent, how light, are the membranes between in and out here, and yet what a different atmosphere is achieved in this great hall.

We're off to a city today, but one much closer to home. It's my last marking-free weekend for a long while, and my niece is bringing my two-month-old grand-nephew from their small northern city to meet his maternal family at a brunch hosted in the new home of my sister and BIL, recently back at the Coast after years in Manitoba's much colder climes. So family riches and September sunshine, ferry rides and baby hugs, all will keep me happily in my West Coast present.

But you'll pardon me if I day-dream, just occasionally, about springtime in Metz . . . Where will you be, and where will you be dreaming of?

Awe-some . . .

2011-08-31T11:36:00.000-07:00

Some big excitement here the other evening. A former student of mine, who has kept in touch with my through years of wending her way through grad school, travel, and exploring career options, came to visit, and as the glass of wine turned into an easy invitation to stay for dinner, we chatted and noshed while Paul turned out a simple frittata and put together an apple brown betty with the gleanings my student had brought from her parents' tree.

As we caught up with our recent reading which, for N. revolved around Animal Studies, animal welfare, speciesism, etc., I jumped up sputtering, gesturing, and shouting as I moved outside. Paul and N. thought I'd seen something alarming, but I was welcoming these two Orcas. They took their time shuttling in and out of the water as they worked their way south, so I was able to get quite a few photos -- all of which confirmed my growing commitment to the purchase of a zoom lens! If you click on these to "embiggen" them, you'll at least be able to confirm that I saw cetaceans, but they're not frame-worthy photos. . . . Still, I'm happy to have a record of my first whale sighting in at least eight years.

Several seals clustered, understandably, in the shallow waters just off our beach. It is a bit sobering to note how close these big guys come to the water we swim in regularly, and, of course, we've paddled right through that route when we head out to nearby Snake Island. But then perhaps awe must always be tinged with fear as well as wonder, and anyway, we were experiencing our awe from the safety of our front deck. Sipping wine and nibbling on goat-cheese stuffed squashflower fritters. . . .

Prof as Student, What I Wore

2011-08-29T14:28:00.000-07:00

I have been a writing fool, lately, but little of it has made its way toward this blog space. So may I fob you off with another photo or two? These are from a recent What I Wore capture, and perhaps you can tell they were grabbed on the run by a husband pressed into service at the last moment. So I can't even complain that he failed to fit the shoes (plain black Repettos, albeit with a slight heel). Nor that he only managed to capture slightly goofy facial expressions (or, possibly, that those were the only kind I managed to make while thinking how I would manage to catch the 7:55 ferry off the island).

The outfit is a transitional version of my summer uniform, which has been the white v-neck T (Gap) and jeans (this wide-legged pair is Michael Kors, finally hemmed for flats so that I could wear them more often). The close-toed Repettos made this slightly more work-worthy than my Birks, and I think the (tissue-thin Club Monaco) cashmere cardi adds a bit of polish. Accessorized with my wear-all-the-time Karen Chopik heart pendant and the lovely silk (hand-rolled-hemmed) scarf I won from Hostess worn as a belt. The silk in the scarf is so heavily lustrous that I was in some danger of being distracted by fingering it, but the Moodle course I took was so fast-paced that I didn't dare. In fact, I felt comfortable yet professionally dressed enough that I didn't think any more about clothes all morning -- and sometimes, really, that's the goal.

I know. You're probably wondering how long I managed to keep that tummy sucked in. I'm just glad no (obvious) cameras caught me later in the day to answer that question . . .

Now back to writing fool in other places . . . .what are you up to?

Paris Dreaming. . . .

2011-08-27T08:24:00.000-07:00

I'm reading philosopher Mark Kingwell's mesmerizing book, Concrete Reveries: Consciousness and the City, and it seemed a good time to post more photos from that city I'm homesick for, Paris. . . . just fragments, really, of architectural geometries I find pleasing. Above and below from the Caserne Babylone, a 1935 building occupied by the Republican Guard.

And below, just the very typical lines of Parisian residential buildings, the ubiquitous shutters . . . .

and the embellishments that collectively add to the city's charm . . .

As I was going through photos to choose for this post, I came across this one, and it seemed quite relevant in light of the hurricane threat faced by Eastern Seaboard cities this weekend. Without minimising that threat, this mark of the Crue de la Seine reminds us that ~~although~~ Paris was covered by water up to this height in January 1910, and thus testifies to the resilience and regeneration of cities.

That said, I hope that you are all safe and that damages inflicted by Irene will be minimal. At the very least, I hope that those of you spending an anxious, frightened weekend have a hand to hold while you tough it out, along with a very absorbing book, and a supply of candles and batteries. Good luck.

Now tell me, what city or cities are you dreaming of this weekend?

My New Superpower Boots

2011-08-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

That Femme; she's always got her finger to the pulse. Yesterday she was writing about how to parse the new trends to make them work in your wardrobe. And a few weeks ago, in a post she called Power Dressing, she talked about those special pieces that make us feel like superheroes -- for Une Femme, power was coming from a new pair of boots, and she linked to an earlier post by blogger Metscan that had got her thinking about the kick-happy potential of such items. Of course, I zipped over to Mette's post immediately and sighed over yet another example of this woman's very. good. taste. And then filed the boots away as fabulous but not on my list -- I have several versions of black ankle boots, after all, and there's no pressing reason to buy new boots in August, right?

Yeah, I was going to be sensible, too. Then Paul and I happened into Gravity Pope's Vancouver store early last week. The day after my slog with the black dog. The day, in other words, that retail therapy was dangerously attractive.

And there they were, Mette's Acne boots, in three different colours. I didn't immediately recognize them as hers, but was drawn to the colour, the simple, rugged style, the perfect heel height for someone who wants a manageable lift, and, once I tried them on, the instant knowledge that these were well designed to walk in. These are boots to live in for many years. The pair I tried on were already being held for another customer, so I had to wait for my size and colour to be brought in from another store. Tomorrow they're coming home to me -- I'll make them very welcome.

Funnily enough, even though these were not on my need list, nor even on a conscious want list, and even though they were a price to give me pause, I haven't any regrets or second thoughts about buying them. Rather, having held off on the cheap thrills lately, I feel vindicated; doing without those many nickel-and-dime purchases translates into a more expensive product that I will wear more often and for longer (at least, that's the theory).
When's the last time you made such a quick decision about a wardrobe addition? And how did that work out for you?

Running to the Child In Me

2011-08-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

I pushed too hard in my running program a few weeks ago and was quickly chastened by a flare-up of Achilles tendonitis that I'm prone to. But Saturday morning, I was feeling fine, was finally getting some energy back after last weekend's low, and headed out 7-ish for what started out as a glorious run. Not yet too warm, generous sunshine, a light, easy pace, the first 4 kilometres were a pleasure, the second 4 reassuringly comfortable, but then somewhere around 10k (about 6 miles for you non-metric sort) a few twinges quickly turned into shrieking tissues, and I had to walk home. Galling!

But I've been reading Christopher McDougall's fascinating and persuasive book Born to Run, and although I'm not turning into an ultra-runner (!) any time soon, nor throwing away my shoes and going barefoot, I decided to apply some of what he says to my homemade rehab plan. McDougall refers to a wealth of research that is beginning to point the finger for runners' injuries squarely at the shoes that were designed to prevent them. He offers some pretty compelling statistics to support his case, pointing out that humans ran for millennia before Nike encased our feet in rubber. What I'm most intrigued by is the argument that running shoes of the last 30-40 years prevent the foot from doing what it's designed for through eons of evolution -- the shoes change our natural stride, interfere with the intricate architectural engineering of bone and muscle, and shut down the bio-feedback provided by an unshod foot's registration of pain.

So much of this made sense to me that I decided to try walking barefoot out on our rocky beach. I walked gingerly at first, jerky motions betraying the stabs of rock edges, but I gradually realized that if I loosened up a bit, the sensation wasn't painful. Rather, I was in an enjoyably alert dance of constant adjustment, molding my feet around large round rocks or splaying my toes wide into a bed of pebbles. Like a child, I played with the sensation of different surfaces, squishing through a swath of recently-deposited seaweed. The rough pressure of the stones, I realized, was not only giving me a decent foot massage but was challenging proprioception, encouraging me to move in ways that were loosening muscles up through my hips, into my back, even my shoulders getting into the act as I threw my arms out for balance.

And I was having fun! The muscle memory evoked childhood, those years when going barefoot was what we did whenever we could. Despite living right at the beach, I realized that I've got out of the habit -- except when Nola's visiting -- of walking out on the rocks to the point. So I extended my beachwalk out along the barnacle-encrusted slabs of sandstone, sculpturally pocked by the persistence of waves. Even the barnacles, at least the smaller ones, felt more like a gentle acupressure than anything my soles might have feared, although they could have scraped nastily if I'd slipped. Underneath my feet, the undulations of the sandstone and the way it released stored sunwarmth evoked a definite AHHHHhhhhhhhhh. Gym and spa and physio clinic all in one. I've decided to walk the beach once or twice daily, 10-15 minutes, while the weather's warm, and see if I can trigger some foot healing.

Meanwhile, I managed a gentle half-hour run punctuated with a few walking breaks today, in my Nike Frees, a much lighter, less supportive but less constraining shoe. And I'm thinking of picking up a pair of those wacky Vibram Toe Shoes. If nothing else, I could use them to keep up my beach walking program through the cooler, wetter season. And who knows, I might even try to do some running in them. They certainly bring out the child in the runner!

I know many (most) of my readers are not runners, but I suspect non-runners and runners alike need to get some childhood back in our mid-life years: How have you managed that lately? Does it include bare feet?

Next up, another post about feet, but not about getting rid of shoes -- this next one's about a recent purchase, and has nothing to do with running . . .