Spring has sprung

Um...a confession. While spring has sprung all around me...

The buds are budding,

Pansies are blooming,

Poppies are popping,

Irises are unfolding,

This blue purply thing is peeking through the black mat I put down to keep the weeds out,

The forget-me-nots are not making it easy to remember them by hiding under hellebores,

The birdies is 'a singin'...

And I?

I still have snow tires on my car.

 

Schnebly Hill AKA Sedona

I've been fighting a nasty cold, and trying to get the house in order so we can sell it and make our way downtown. But last weekend I ended up booting it 7,000 feet up a mountain on the old Flagstaff Road in Sedona Arizona in a neon green Hummer with Alex the orthopedic surgeon and Chuck the driver. Chuck was a delight, one of those perpetually affable fellows who can find joy in the simplest things. And Chuck loved me because I clearly loved everything Chuck loves - the orange red sandstone mountains of Sedona. I'm still shaking dust out of my hair and my spine hasn't forgiven me.

This looks like a natural amphitheater. First Nations People have long considered this a sacred site. The guide called the lower rock formations "cow patties" which seems apt.

I think this is around six thousand feet.

This rock formation is called The Carousel. You can see the limestone ring from a old seabed.

This one is called The Congress. If you listen closely, you can hear them babbling.

Gives you an idea how far up we climbed. (In a Hummer, not on foot, people.) You can make out some trucks on the distant highway to give you some perspective.

See that rock in the bottom right corner? I stood on that rock, right at the edge of a very steep drop. Chuck was suitably impressed. The orthopedic surgeon not so much. If you lean over, you can not only see a car wreck far below, but you can make everyone around you suck in their breath at the same time.

The Hummer was quite...bouncy. I think I lost a few fillings. However, it was still quite civilized. A driver in a passing jeep stopped and said, "Have you got any Grey Poupon?"

I had to include this shot. Care to guess who owns this house?

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Famous comedienne.

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Redhead.

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Yup. Lucille Ball lived in this house. And the family still owns it. If you zoom in, you'll see a woman waving on the porch.

Where beauty comes from

found here

Open letter to Chipotle Mexican Grill

When are you coming to Montreal? I hate to point out the obvious, but Toronto already has three Chipotle locations, and Montreal? Zip. Nada. Nothing. Most importantly, we love our food here in Montreal, nay, we embrace it with a passion bordering on obsession. Toronto? Let's just say I once sat beside a woman who ordered a non-fat non-caf latte and a bagel with low-fat cream cheese. As I sat sipping my full fat, bold, 100% fully caffeinated cup of joe (THE WAY GOD INTENDED COFFEE TO BE ENJOYED) she proceeded to cut the bagel in half, then used her fingernails like a miniature frontloader to scrape the soft doughy interior out of the bagel and on to her plate. She seemed to take it as a personal challenge to see how much dough she could gouge out while leaving the exterior intact. She paused every so often in her quest to remove bits of bagel guts from under her manicured claws, and didn't stop until that hapless bagel was fully eviscerated, a literal hollow shell of its former self. She then used a smidgen of low-fat cream cheese on the bagel crust and ate it as though it might bite her back. Here in Montreal? We drink half the night away with friends then stagger out looking for sustenance to get us home - poutine, smoked meat, souvlaki, or over to Fairmount or St.-Viateur to grab a bag of hot, hand-rolled bagels out of the wood-fired oven along with some smoked salmon and cream cheese. So come on, Chipotle. Do you not see how welcome you would be here in La Belle Province? Don't make me go to the U.S. or back to Toronto to get my fix. Give a girl a break. And a burrito with a side of guac.

Junk Mail Confusion

My junk mail has increased ten-fold lately so I figure it's time to update my security system. What confuses me is why the bots send me certain types of mail. Presumably it's based on where I've been browsing, but none of this makes sense. Well, maybe the replacement china but the rest? Everyone gets the Nigerian Prince Inheritance scheme letters, right? But why am I getting male enhancement pitches? If they're using spyware, I haven't been to any sites featuring man bits, big or small. Not that I can remember. Just today, I got these pitches for or from the following - American Association of Retired People (uh, Canadian!) cheap auto insurance, a photography course from Canon (I have a Nikon, thank you), health insurance (I live in CA-NA-DA), invitation for a culinary arts degree so I can "become a chef and make your dreams a reality!" (believe me, my dreams do not include more cooking), credit scores, used cars, life insurance, a job offer on an offshore Chinese rig (ah, yes, where dreams do come true), shop for engagement rings (too late, by 27 years), take Zoloft, sue the manufacturers for taking Zoloft, get replacement china (small c china), Viagra (always the Viagra), and my favourite today, an link to a site explaining the difference between harmful vs proper bowel cleansing. Oh, spam, why do you torment me so?

Nature?

I'm intrigued by this and slightly discombobulated. On the one hand I find it calming, just as when I am under stress I am innately driven to sit by/on/in water to let the gentle lapping of waves and the reflection of light ease my burden. Or I seek out a spot under old trees, scan for patches of blue sky between the branches, and listen to the soughing of the wind and bird songs and lazing buzzing of the bees. So here is a machine which mimics nature, the sounds and patterns, and while I'm fascinated, I'm also uncomfortable. I'm guessing that if I worked in a big office tower nearby, I'd probably seek out this installation during my lunch hour, and I bet if someone measured my blood pressure it would be significantly lower as I hovered over this ribbon of electronic nature and just let the experience wash over me. But it also makes me conscious of the fact that we are moving ever closer to replacing the natural world with machines and bricks and concrete. See my dilemma? I picture a future where we are living in space and we have these installations to remind us what we gave up. It kind of chills me. What do you think? Love it or loathe it? Am I nuts to fret so much?

Patterned by Nature from Sosolimited on Vimeo.

50 Shades of Grey

In case any of you have been living under a rock (hey, hi there, pull up a chair, join me for a cup of tea) and have not heard the buzz surrounding this book called 50 Shades of Grey, let me explain.
This is a New York Times best-selling erotic ebook and paperback written by E.L.James. It is called, in some circles, "mommy porn" as if that clears up the confusion. (I always thought mommy porn was the HGTV channel or REAL HOUSEWIVES series.) The story describes a relationship between a young graduate student named Ana and a moody, demanding billionaire with a penchant for bondage named Christian Grey (oh, the symbolism is as subtle as a shovel to the side of the head, innit?) He is described as unable to love and "charismatic" because nothing screams charm like someone who's humorless and slap-happy. It has been described as The Story of O meets a Harlequin Romance meets Bridget Jones Diary. So Ana meets up with Mr. Grey and her inner voice of reason dukes it out with her secret desires to submit to his hanky panky. The setting is Seattle, just like Twilight and Frasier, which is the only thing they have in common (there are no vampires in 50 Shades as far as I know, but there may be the odd "tossed salad and scrambled eggs" in his "red room of pain" if you follow my drift.) Some say it started as Twilight fan fiction, which makes me even less inclined to read it. Especially when most agree it's poorly written, with a "cheeseball narrative" and "corny" dialogue. Maybe it's a statement about woman's submission and gender equality, how modern women who have economic and political power can only be turned on by being tied up, but it also sounds like regular old porn to me. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But like the saying goes, if it quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, don't call it a great work of art. It's a fricking duck. Will you read it? Have you read it? Here's a clip of Ellen recording the audio book: