{and i can see for myles, myles, myles}

the family tree has been sending off shoots like crazy lately. we've had two nephews and one little niece join the gang since april! which is fantastic, because you know that feeling where you just need to hug someone who doesn't have anything else in the world to do but be hugged? babies are good for that.

it's a completely strange thing, holding a baby. i mean, for me it is anyway. the whole time i'm holding myles {the one who joined us on saturday, pictured above with his uncle barclay}, i'm thinking about his little head and his little ears and his little skin, and how he will someday be a full grown man and how that skin will just grow and stretch and somehow cover all of him and somehow his ears will be the right size for his head and somehow his bones will all grow. and i don't know about you, but the thought of bones growing is definitely fascinating and wonderful and makes me feel like i'm going to throw up. probably because i start imagining what it would sound like if we could hear bones growing.

and i'm thinking about his brain, and how every experience he has in these first few days must be mind-blowingly amazing to him. LIGHT! LOUD! WHO ARE YOU? WHO AM I? STRETCH! BARF! WHAT'S A MYLES? COLD! can you imagine it? never having seen another human being in your whole life, and suddenly there're all these giant ones, passing you around and talking so loudly and excitedly, right in your face, in a language you don't even know, touching your head a lot and laughing and crying. and you can't move and you can't completely see and you don't have a clue what's even going on. mind-blowingly amazing, but also a little twilight zone-ish.

and i'm thinking about how much future and how little past he has. do you know how much i love watching someone i love experience something for the first time? as i hold this little boy, who is exactly 5 hours old, i want to bundle him up and take him to the zoo, and to scotland, and to the ocean, and on a train, and to disneyland, and to the playground, and to the pool, and to outer space, and i want to show him my favourite song and feed him some lindt chocolate and double-bounce him on a trampoline, and teach him how to make stuff and play the piano.

and then he gives a big hiccup and poops his pants.

babies, you guys. crazy people.

and i'm a happy auntie.

{my opinion}

it's good to keep busy. it's good to have projects and ideas and jobs, people to see and places to be at certain times. but you need a day here and there for getting lost with someone, walking down back alleys, drinking cold things and talking about small, seemingly insignificant stuff.
barclay and i did this the other day. we explored a part of our neighbourhood we hadn't before. all of the crazy people were out, and the sun was out, and so, you know, we thought we should be too. my favourite thing was when we followed the sound of a fuzzy radio right to a little old shop with stained glass in the windows and, obviously, poked our heads inside. a man with a heavy accent looked up from where he was working, hunched over a large, shattered, stained glass window, and welcomed us warmly. we visited for a bit and we asked him what he was doing and he proudly showed us his work. i suddenly felt like a five year-old, popping my head over the neighbour's fence and asking endless questions. but he was so friendly, so excited about his work, that i didn't feel bad about it. he even invited us over to his work bench and showed me how to cut glass. we wandered around the shop for a while after that. he told us about a stained glass class he taught in the evenings for 25 bucks {for 18 hours of classes altogether...!} and i'm seriously thinking about it. because why not? i've been learning a thing or two lately about branching out, trying new things, meeting new people. it's good for you, i think. there are so many different kinds of people out there, did you know that? and if you only ever hang out with the ones you already know, you'll miss out on some really neat folks, and the really neat things they could teach you.  but that, you guys, is just my opinion.
have you tried something different lately? classes of some kind, or a club, or even just striking up conversation with an interesting-looking stranger, or whatever? i like hearing those kinds of stories.

{clothes for you to sweat in}

are you looking for something to wear to the gym? i have something that'll look brilliant with your sweat on it. is that weird to say? i never know anymore.

anyway. society 6 is having a no shipping week again. that's 10 bucks off your order {shipping is crazy expensive. yuck.} 

so, in honour of that, i made some wearable things. mens & women's sizes available. it's all printed on american apparel stuff, and it's not crazy expensive. click on any picture in this post to go browse the store. but only if you want. i'm not trying to turn my blog into an annoying market place; i just really like society 6 and am having fun over there, and figured i'd mention it every once in a while. cheers, blogosphere.

{mega man and me}

this is mega man. if you haven't heard of him, you obviously don't spend very much time with barclay who, along with playing the actual video games, likes to play the entire video game score on his electric guitar with his friend, bernard. {that's actually a lot more impressive a feat than it sounds right now, i promise.}
anyway. we sat down in the dining room last week with every single art supply i own, and while i played with watercolours and ink, he dove into the acrylics and produced a pixelated painting of his favourite little video game guy.

it's going above our dining room table, i think.

i know, i know. i can hear all you interior design buffs and anthropologie lovers sucking your breath in at the thought of video game characters on your walls. but i've always thought it was a little unfair how little say guys get in how the inside of their houses look. i read these blogs where the girl's like, "...and next, i'm going to paint every other wall pink and recover everything in lace!" maybe a lot of guys just don't care, but i'll always remember when we moved in here and the bathroom was purple and i thought it was actually not a bad colour and barclay, all consternation and panic, exclaimed, "I'M A BOY!" and since then we've tried to kind of strike a decent balance with the whole decoration thing. he gets his tree stump coffee table, i get my flowery wallpaper. i hang my pretty maps on the wall in the living room, he gets a mega man portrait in the dining room. because, you know, he lives here too and stuff.

besides. i think it's cool.

{part 26}

just down the street from uncle brian's place, there is a garden with bright green grass and weepy, wispy trees and a hundred pathways going in every direction and back. if you follow a very certain path, you will find yourself in a very quiet place with perfectly trimmed hedges. i think it's called the queen's garden, or something royal like that. if you stand just inside the hedges and squint your eyes almost shut, you can imagine that you see 6-foot cards with hands and feet painting the roses red while the queen of hearts hollers, "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" or even if you can't, i can. i have a very active imagination.
at the very farthest end, past flower beds and rose bushes and walkways, you will see a little house. and you should go inside, because i bet you've never seen a house completely wallpapered in seashells before.
{parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,  10,  11, 12,  13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25}

{happy weekend}

{fish and tea and graffiti and me}

once a week, there's a free show downtown on the plaza. live music is one of those fish in the deep part of the ocean that lure other, littler fish in with the little lights on their antennae. i am one of the other, littler fish, and i'm ok with it. i'm all like, "YEAH, EAT ME. I'M TASTY." this is a poor metaphor.
anyway, once a week i grab my camera and my iphone, put my headphones in, and walk over. it's a fantastic excuse for a walk, some alone time, and a good dose of vitamin d. the trip takes me through the cathedral village, past the shops and fruit stands and the guy riding to work on his unicycle and that usual funny little crowd always sprawled out in lawn chairs in front of roca jack's, across vic park, and past the noon-hour salsa class that meets in front of the first tower.
sometimes after the show, if my feet aren't too blistered and the sun isn't too harsh, i wander through the buildings and try to find good buskers and then i drop by david's tea for a cold drink. because it's only a dollar if you have a david's tea mug, and who do you think is loyal enough to own one of those? me. {thanks jewelia.} and then it's off back through the park and through the village and home. they just repainted the village walls too, which yesterday instigated daydreaming and excessive wandering, so my 25 minute walk back ended up taking an hour instead. sometimes, it's like my brain shuts off and my, you know, my other brain takes over. the one in charge of acting like my seven year old self who didn't know how to get to my own house because i was so lost in thought all the time. in my defence, the colour-saturated walls are just so dang fascinating. which leads me to my conclusion: every building in every city needs a painting on it.

{quilting}

i've never been one of those girls who love to sew and quilt and knit and crochet. i mean, i could probably get into it if i tried, but right now i'm just not. in grade 12 home ec. i started a jean quilt and left it incomplete {along with my grade} in a box until a friend finished it for me {bless you, patricia}. a year and a half ago i started knitting a scarf and have probably an inch left to go on it...but just between you and me and the whole internet, that inch may as well be a hundred miles.

because i love the idea of a cozy evening spent by a fireplace making soft things to give as gifts and to wear and to keep warm with...but when the cozy evening comes, i'm more likely to spend it at a table with a pen and paper, delineating and watercoloring and writing out paragraphs that will never keep anyone warm. 

anyway. 

last night, barclay and i got out every single art supply we owned and spread ourselves out in the dining room with some iced coffee and some fans and some music, and while he created a giant acrylic likeness of his favourite video game character {and heck yes we're going to hang it up in the house when it's done} i got as close as i will ever get to completing a quilt. 

{and then i added it to my shop as a print, notecards, or iphone case. because i'm obsessed with society sixing.}
i guess the moral of the story is something about quilts and paint.

{radical face}

you should know by now that if you can make me sad, you've made me very, very happy. but only, i mean, if you're a movie or a song or something like that. i'm assuming it has something to do with endorphins and other neuro-chemicals and also a little bit with being a girl, but who knows. all i know is that i've had radical face on my grooveshark playlist on repeat this morning, and i am thoroughly depressed, in the most delightful way.

sharing the wealth:
 

{scary things}

i've been trying out some scary things lately. earlier this year, i got offered a sweet little job doing tv interviews with bands and stuff for a local cable show. i was pretty pumped about it, because i love talking music and i love shows and i love free shows and i love jian ghomeshi...but at the very, very last minute, i literally sent the guy an email that said, "i'm inadequate for this. you should probably get someone else. sorry for being a flake."

and i felt sad about it. i almost sent a retraction email, saying, "i'll be bad at first, but i can learn! i'm flaking on my flake!" i didn't, though. that would've been silly. but i did decide that the next time someone offered me an opportunity like that, i'd jump at it. and i'd stick to it until they told me i couldn't do it. because it's ridiculous how often i shut myself down, how often i get into the boxing ring with someone else and then punch my own self in the face.

but the point is not that.

the point is that not even a week later, i got an email from an entertainment promotion and events hosting organization that's expanding in the city. they hook bands up with gigs and write up reviews for them and organize events in the arts community. pretty cool. they asked for kind of the same thing as the cable people--interviews, show reviews, etc--except in writing. i thought, "IDEAL," and i said, "YES."

anyway. i'm not telling you all this because i expect you'll actually care about all the ins and outs of what i do in my free time; i'm telling you this because yesterday was my first interview and i feel a little like i look in that picture above. i mean, just as i expected, i got all nervous and said a lot of stupid things and asked some really. dumb. questions. but then it was over and i wasn't flat on my back and i knew the things that i could change for next time and thought of some better ways i could have worded stuff, and i'm excited for my next one. practise makes better, at least. you can read it here if you want.

anyway. i guess another The Point is that we all need to stop expecting that we'll be perfect at stuff on our first go. unless we're brain surgeons. there is a little more pressure there.

and who knows? maybe someday the cable people will call again. and i'll sit on my hands and say, "YES."

{parkour}

i remember a couple of years ago when someone first introduced me to the wonderful endless black hole that is parkour and free running videos on youtube and it absolutely blew my mind. i know it's kind of old news, but i still get really excited watching it. probably because one of my favourite dreams is one where i just run and run and run and i can jump over anything and i'm fast and i'm virtually unstoppable. and that's kind of exactly what parkour is.
{thanks my special agent for reminding me of the last video! i can't believe i didn't include it the first go round!!}

{rosie and the ccc}

if you go down to hamilton street, and stop just before the shoe store, you'll see a wee door in the wall. you should go in, even though it looks like you shouldn't, and you'll find a staircase and nothing more. at the top of the staircase, you'll pause and wonder if you should be here at all. the building is seemingly abandoned and mostly quiet except for a few footsteps and whispers coming from above and to your left. they're so muffled and ghostly that you'll wonder if you're making them up in your head, and you'll think even more about turning around again, but then you'll keep going because there are more stairs to climb, and you feel that you really should, at least, try them out.

these stairs will take you to the top, which is true of almost all stairs. the top will also seem deserted, but you'll just have to poke around the rooms a bit; there's probably someone there {there usually is}. this place is called the creative city centre, and it's become one of my favourite places in the city--it hosts poetry slams and live music and songwriter's workshops and art nights and comedy and everything else good and artsy and fun.

recently, a young local artist named rosie armistead hung a 40-foot canvas all along one wall and worked on it for a month, painting and stamping and doodling and drawing. the public could come and watch her work on it on monday afternoons, and she chatted while she worked and we could ask questions or just creepily gawk from a corner and then leave without saying a word. at the end of the month, she chopped the thing up and you could buy any part{s} of it that you wanted, one dollar per square inch. the thing that i loved about this was one part the strange little audience that gathered to comment and spectate and stare, one part the ccc, a venue that provides this kind of platform for those willing to put themselves out there, and five parts rosie armistead, with her crazy clothes and confidence in herself and in her work that gave her the boldness to put it out there in such a big way. it was kind of a funny little lesson for me in just doing what you gotta do, even if you think everyone might not like it, or even if you think no one might like it. because in the end, if absolutely nothing else, you get an experience, right? and that experience could be like a little spring board that you can jump off to get to the next experience. and i think that's cool--almost like flying. i guess the moral of the story is sort of the whole staircase thing, how you should explore creepy places {but always take a strong friend with you}, and sort of just how sweet the ccc is, but it's mostly about how if you find a thing that could potentially be an experience, you know, "jump".

{the problem}

the problem is people.
this is almost always the problem.

yesterday, a car ran a stop sign and almost hit me. i put my hand out and it came to rest on the hood as the little blue mustang screeched to a stop and the petite blonde behind the wheel just twisted a lock of product-filled hair around her texting finger and looked at me blankly like, "oh, huh. where'd you come from?" i smiled at her and went on, glad not to be implanted face first in her windshield.

and then i went for coffee with becky and was attacked by a woman in ripped jean shorts. i use the word "attacked" loosely, because she didn't actually touch me; she just lunged at me, screaming that i had, apparently, looked at her wrong.

but honestly, i don't really remember looking at her much at all, except to notice that she was wearing ripped jean shorts. i was thankful that her boyfriend held her back so she couldn't hit me, and carefully escorted her away and across the street before the situation escalated. through the whole event, i didn't move a muscle except to sip my iced coffee and laugh at a joke becky told.

earlier that day, i'd been walking past a yard where a man stood watering his flowers. i had my headphones on and was watching the sidewalk disappear beneath my feet when he glanced up and i glanced over and he turned the hose directly on my face, even though my face was absolutely nowhere near his flowers. i was a little bit shocked and quite mad, but it was hot that day and the water felt so refreshing that i just kept on walking, patting my hair down and using the bottom of my shirt to dry my face.

but the point is not that.
the point is that some days i wonder if i might be on a reality tv show i don't know about; i wonder if the point of the show is to provoke me into fighting with someone or punching something or whatever.

because if that's not the case, then i just live in a city full of weirdos and klutzes and jerks, basically.

{the backwards storm}

i wanted to pull over and climb the wooden look-out we just about drove right past. there is something about climbing things that look like they might fall out from underneath you. something nice.

besides: the sky and the water. they were the exact right colour. and because of murphy's law, the sky opened up and lost it on us just as we got to the top so that our shirts were damp and our eyelashes stuck together a little by the time we got back to the truck. then, of course, came the rainbow. and we thought, "well that was a nice little storm." even though it wasn't much of one at all. but we didn't realize that what sometimes looks like the end of a little storm is sometimes the beginning of a much bigger one. and, i mean, sometimes that's true of metaphorical storms too. but another thing that i know about metaphorical and literal storms is that the bigger and badder the storm, the more beautiful the sky afterward. you know what i mean?