Tag Archives: friends

The Maples Blazed and Smouldered

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Fall 2011_9330

“The long storm was followed by a north-west gale, and when it was over, the hills took on their first umber tints, the sky grew more densely blue, and the big white clouds lay against the hills like snow-banks. The first crisp maple-leaves began to spin across Miss Hatchard’s lawn, and the Virginia creeper on the Memorial splashed the white porch with scarlet. It was a golden triumphant September. Day by day the flame of the Virginia creeper spread to the hillsides in wider waves of carmine and crimson, the larches glowed like the thin yellow halo about a fire, the maples blazed and smouldered, and the black hemlocks turned to indigo against the incandescence of the forest” – Edith Wharton, Summer

My friend Kimmy had offered me as a birthday present an outing in the Eastern Townships when the fall colours would make their appearance; the idea being to go do some wine tasting, and so we set out last Wednesday morning to drive down the small roads in and around Frelighsburg. Our timing was perfect as the scenery all about us was glorious. Of course, pictures can never reproduce the feeling one has when surrounded by all those rich colours, but my camera was at the ready and we stopped often to take it all in. Kim and I share similar sensibilities and together we can just stay in one spot and marvel at the beauty before us. It’s so wonderful to be able to share those things with such a good friend. The young cows were in their pasture by the side of the road, and when I approached them, camera at the ready, they became just as curious about me. Kimmy stayed with Coco in the car, and told me afterward that he had started barking furiously, but when he saw the bovines approach, he switched to low growling instead—no doubt about it, my little stray is a city dog. We had lunch in the small town and continued on our way, again, making frequent stops, until eventually we realized we didn’t have much time left to visit vineyards. That was fine by me as I had no great impulse to discover Quebec wines, and those we did try, two whites, two reds, a rosé, then fortified wines, left much to be desired, with an acidity level that made my mouth pucker up for minutes after the initial sip. The ice wines were quite nice, but I was all too happy to leave the vino behind and bring home wonderful impressions and memories and a few snapshots so I could share some of our local natural splendours.

A Friendship in the Making…

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This just in:

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Pics by Smiler

Damage

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Woke up with a terrible migraine today after a series of disturbing dreams. Desperately wanted to stay in bed, but had an appointment with my shrink whom I don’t see that often as it is. I made my way there feeling like shit, looking like shit. She had one look at me and said I looked awful (more or less). I told her about the past few weeks. When I got done telling her about my so called wonderful holidays, she said “no wonder it set you back, with trauma like that, anyone would have a hard time coming around”. That’s what it comes down to. That’s what people who claim do be friends and don’t actually act like friends do: they do damage. Yes, I’m doing what I need to to get over it, but it’s taking much longer than I’d like. Wake me up if and when the world becomes a better place. I’m going to try to sleep off that migraine now.

Not That Kind Of Bi.

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Girl with Pink Scarf

At some point in the past couple of days, Mimi decided she wanted to join Facebook and start making new friends. Who was I to stop her? As it is the poor thing only gets to hang out with Fritz and I and whatever guests happen to drop by my place every once in a while. Since I won’t let her go outside (for her own safety and my peace of mind), I figured Facebook was the next best option as a virtual playground. I’m not sure what she’s up to exactly, but all I do know is she’s been hogging the computer and that after only a couple of days she already has more friends that I do, among which (to name names) Christopher Hitchens. How she managed that, I guess I’ll never know for sure.

Mimi and I started a Facebook group called Not That Kind Of Bi. Essentially I’d like it to become a forum for people to exchange about mental health in general and bipolar disorder in particular in an open, relaxed setting. I want to do something about helping to lift the taboo because it concerns everyone in the end and Facebook is just the right kind of forum to do it in. If you’re not on Facebook yet, Not That Kind Of Bi. is yet another good reason to sign up.

Illustration by Smiler 2001(?)

Today’s Favorite Mother Contest

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Bowls_3450

It was a good day overall. I got up this morning without too much struggle. I made myself coffee and a bagel with cream cheese and jam. I ate it all. I wasn’t sick. I made my way to the day hospital on a freezing cold day but was well dressed for it, so that part was actually fun (plus, it’s such a pretty walk up Peel and towards Mount-Royal). I worked on the two bowls I had my heart set on making during ceramics and was free to continue working on them through lunchtime to get them finished. Now they just have to dry for a week or so before being baked so I can paint them (before getting re-baked). One of the three bowls in the series I’ve made will be sent to the winner of the contest: WHO IS MY FAVORITE MOTHER. Mother gets to choose her favourite colour combo out of the three finished pieces. I’m very excited about this very simple project for some reason. The bowls are kind of crude and quirky, but I’ve really become attached to them as simple icons of unbridled and un-self-conscious creativity (all the while using a mould— ha ha.)

Had a nice talk with J, my former main caregiver. We always do have interesting talks and I value her opinion because she can relate personally to so many things I go through myself, yet she manages to stay healthy and positive through it all.

Went over to Bleu comme le ciel and Clio Blue to make small payments on some jewellery I’ve put aside. I can take all my time to pay it off and I keep telling myself I won’t shop anymore when I’ve paid those pieces off.

Had a great therapy/venting session with my psychologist.

Got home to find that “friend” had passed by to pick up things, save for rollerblades which had been sitting here for many years. I had expressly asked not to come in my absence as wanted to make sure he got everything and my keys didn’t get left outside in the mailbox (I still like to play it safe in a very public kind of neighbourhood). He thought he would come alone to avoid a screaming tirade—which shows how little he knows me—after the big blowup, comes: the deep freeze. There was a great bottle of wine with a short note waiting for me, but I knew I couldn’t stomach that wine ever. Yes, even a Chateauneuf du Pape can taste bitter to me under the wrong circumstances. Plus it was RED wine, which doesn’t agree with me well at all these days. There was an exchange of emails. I misinterpreted and missed bits and pieces. He was just being a typical GUY about it. I need time to get over my anger and just focus on taking care of myself.

Went out to buy a couple of bottles of scotch (to slowly sample at my own rhythm) and a bottle of WHITE Chateauneuf du Pape. For New Year’s of course.

Spent the evenings watching truly funny shows on HBO; Curb Your Enthusiasm, Entourage (with that great scene of Matt Damon having a complete meltdown on the phone), Flight of the Conchords (as aforementioned), Six Feet Under (not so funny but so great I have decided it}s worth purchasing the whole series to watch several times over), Eastbound & Down (with aforementioned Kenny Powers). All the while have been slowly comparing between two scotches (Glengoyne and Glendronach), both twelve year olds but at different price-points. The former is stronger at 57.2% of alcohol content and pricier too, but much smoother with a velvetiness like brandy and a smell like the best kind of fruitcake ever (for people who love fruitcake like I do). This from someone who took wine-tasting courses but still can’t figure out how to describe wine & spirits. The latter is a bit coarser, but with a sharp fruity ending as it was finished off in sherry caskets. Not sure why it is that I’m discovering and appreciating scotch so much at this point in my life—not something I would have ever predicted, and makes me sound a little bit of an alkie—or an old lady (or both)—I do realize, but there we have it.

Tomorrow and Thursday have booked a 25 minute, then a 1 hour and 25 minute massage. It started with just one but since I didn’t use up my allowance in massage from the insurance company these past couple of years, I decided to book one sooner to help take care of the backache I got from lying around too much while sick. Uhhh… yoga maybe? Yes, that will definitely feature heavily in my new schedule for the New Year.

It’s late. Must get some sleep, otherwise I can see myself start to spin a little bit too fast with too little sleep and so much going on.

xx

Notes From the Cave

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Mimi Quad7_1317

Mimi Quad9_1319

It would seem that the cats and I have entered a state of hibernation this month. I’ve been on battery-saving mode for a while now, which is a good thing because I also happen to be completely broke for the next week or so. Which is actually quite funny considering I have a closet-full of cashmere, seriously gorgeous (and stupidly expensive) brand new Belstaff boots and some beautiful handmade Little Bowls by local artist Dorothy Deschamps, to name just those very few things. The bowls I got at the Souk @ SAT on an outing to look at affordable contemporary design with my lovely friend K last Friday, which is where I also found out my spending had finally reached it’s absolute limit. We both got jars of Ethiopian spiced coffee, I got myself a silk knot necklace and a tasteful do-it-yourself cardboard Canadian log cabin for the cats. And the little bowls (also known as pinch pots) of course. I was also very tempted by several very cool stuffed dolls, ultra-modern laser-cut wood hangers, a handmade pink-glazed ceramic figurine of a geisha with a deer head (which I thought could inspire quite a few paintings), letterpressed stationery, lots of great ceramic mugs and dishes and various small items—from salt shakers to side tables—for the house. K was much more reasonable than me and only got a pair of the miniature golden bowls to give to a much beloved auntie in Prague, which is where K and her family will be spending the holidays this year. I know auntie V will be pleased with the bowls.

Above, just a couple of pictures I took while I played around with the QuadCamera application on my iPhone—you can see them all by clicking here. Below, my small collection of pinch pots.

5 Pinch Pots

A Girl’s Best Friend

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I can’t stop looking at it. If you’re asking yourself “what is a girl’s best friend?” then you’ve probably never heard of Marilyn Monroe or the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes in which she sang a little song called Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend. I got my first pair of stud earrings with diamond dust particles on them about 5 years ago, and it felt like a rite of passage. Beyond the monetary value we place on them, diamonds have a truly therapeutic effect on me. I’ve managed to turn my mood around 180º on occasions when I was feeling low low low and ducked into a Tiffany’s, or a Cartier or Van Cleef & Arpels, where the mere action of the light being reflected of the diamond’s surface and hitting my eye seemed to instantly change my brain’s chemistry.

When I turned 35, it dawned on me that there was a very real possibility that I might never meet someone to spend my life with. Never get engaged. Never get that coveted diamond ring. So I promised myself that I would buy myself one at 40 to celebrate my independence as opposed to feeling depressed about being a premature old maid. Months before my birthday came around, I was feeling sorry for myself, about my current mental and emotional situation, about my temporary lack of ability to support myself, about countless other things, but also about the fact that the diamond ring seemed like a far-fetched idea, out of my league, something I wasn’t worthy of besides. I thought about my parents and of the fact that I haven’t seen either of them for many years now and that I should save my money for plane tickets. But the truth is, it’ll be a while before I can travel again. Even if I’m doing better, for now the prospect of it all; leaving my apartment and my cats behind; sharing cramped spaces with germ-carrying stranger, waking up in unfamiliar places and interacting in such intimate settings with my loved ones after decades of living alone fills with me with too much anxiety.

In I walked into Birks today (our Canadian version of Tiffany’s) with a confident stride and my heart set on giving an extravagant gift to my favourite person: me. The very fact that I can hold that thought without a trace of cynicism, coupled with the fact that I’ve managed to live through the past couple of years to even see 40 is quite an accomplishment, all things considered, and a passage well-worth commemorating with a meaningful piece of jewelry. I chose Birks because they have impeccable service and great warranties. For example I can return the ring within 90 days for full refund, no questions asked. I can also exchange my ring to upgrade whenever I like, and they offer free cleaning repairs and inspection for 5 years. More meaningful to me is the fact that they ensure that every diamond originates from ethical sources and suppliers. With my relatively small budget there were limited choices, but still, I managed to find a ring that seemed to make the clouds part with sounds of angel choirs singing in harmony for a moment. Very classic, it’s a three-stone ring with round-shaped diamonds which are cut so there are tremendous reflections which reveal the “locked fire hidden within the crystal”. As the store literature also says: “The classic three-stone diamond ring represents a tribute to your love, a celebration of the past, present and future. [...] Rich in symbolism, the three-stone diamond ring [is] the perfect anniversary or special occasion gift that expresses the timelessness of your love.” Perfect. Now all I have to do is find a church that will marry me to myself.

The Gift_0802

Pic by Smiler

Birthday Cake, Part 2

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B-Day cake2_3259

A couple of months ago, K was telling me all about this incredible lemon cake she’d made and how even her family and friends who didn’t usually like lemon cake just couldn’t get enough of it. So I asked her what any normal person would—I asked her would she make it for me as my birthday cake. Being a good and loving friend, she said yes. She had family obligations last week, but I knew I could count on her to come through eventually and yesterday was the day. She lives out in the suburbs so I got over my usual distaste for taking buses and discovered that the 191 takes me from my door straight to hers in just 30 minutes.

On the menu were lobster rolls made from freshly cooked live lobsters, potato salad, a bottle of Masi rosé wine I’d brought, and the famous cake of course, accompanied by a desert wine brought by J, another friend of K’s. While J & K were boiling and pounding the lobsters to submission I enjoyed a swim in the pool to work up an appetite (had I participated in the lobster preparations, I’m not sure I’d have had an appetite to speak of). The meal was delicious. The lobster rolls were augmented with arugula and cheese. The cake was scrumptious and tasted deceptively light and airy, thought it was made with several tubs of mascarpone. Delicious. Then before we knew it, it was already midnight and we were all getting drowsy—to think all of us used to party till the small hours of the morning!—and K accompanied me to the bus stop just a short block away. It was a truly enjoyable day in more ways than one. My only regret as I stepped onto the bus was refusing to take home more than two pieces of cake when K was about to fill up a giant tuperware container for me. But you just can’t keep your figure and eat all that cake too.

My Old Friend C

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Photobucket

Lovely dinner with my old friend C tonight. We’re the same age and have known each other for over 22 years. Back in the day we’d hang out at the coolest clubs then go for a bite to eat at equally cool eateries and flirt with life’s possibilities. She’s as friendly and thoughtful as ever, she looks great as ever, her routine remains unchanged with daily swimming at 6:20 a.m., which keeps her toned and slender. She has plenty of style and always looks well put together. She’s never flashy or obvious, but your know the jewels are the real deal, the watch is the kind people get mugged for, and the handbag has been copied all over the world and happens to look much like the version I bought, only hers has a plaque on it engraved with the designer’s name. As a 40th birthday gift, her loving husband of almost 20 years surprised her with a trip to Paris this winter, while their three attractive children remained at home with their grandmother. There are yearly family trips to an almost deserted Caribbean island to visit the grandparents, who set up residence there some years ago. There is a beautiful weekend chalet up north designed by her husband and decorated with style and to which I’ve been invited many times to spend weekends hiking, canoeing and swimming. I’ve always found reasons not to go, feeling like I don’t belong to their world—why would they want the likes of neurotic & depressed old me over there? How I’ve wanted to hate C over the years. But it’s just not possible—she happens to be a very sweet, very likeable girl. How I’ve yearned to be just like C. But I guess I just happen to be a different creature altogether. What’s really funny is that while I’m feeling sorry for myself, I know there are people who feel much the same way when they compare themselves to me—we’re always somebody else’s C.