September song

I get a little moody at this time of the year, end of September, with a birthday rising on the horizon (I am an October girl). It's not a "bad" moody, more of a reflective state, of my life, the year behind me and the year before me. A long chat with my friend Joy in San Diego, where I first met her a lifetime ago, brought so many memories back, of a front yard filled with hibiscus bushes, of learning to drive in a green Edsel on Mt. Hukee street, a car everyone made fun of but that was as solid as any car, and so much more. It's a friendship that's withstood time and all its tests, and I dedicate this entry to her.

Joybells, I miss you.

[Monterey Cypress, I miss you too]

Photo (c) Colette Copeland

Travels

I went to Greece yesterday. Mostly for the food; I wanted Greek groceries, and a treat I haven't had in years: loukoumades, or as some call them, honey balls, light puffy yeast pastries dipped in syrupy honey. They didn't last the trip back so I couldn't photograph them. The weather was sunny, the skies blue, and the radio played Greek music. I strolled past a restaurant that my uncle and I had had several meals in, noting with satisfaction that it was still there, and breathed in wild oregano and dried camomile flower. Among my best and delicious buys were frozen pastries filled with spinach and mizithra cheese that just needed half an hour in the oven -- none of that tiresome ubiquitous feta. Note to food people: just because you throw in some feta cheese does not make a dish Greek...

Then I got on the subway and came home. Because Greece is just a short ride away from my home.

Wing

I was examining my windows after all the weather and thinking it was time to clean them, when I saw this little wing shape. (Thanks, I said to no one in particular, I needed that.)

That's my story and I'm sticking to it :-)

Book Report

I spent the last two days at the bookstore. A lot of the time it can be quiet, which gives me the time to write drafts of articles I have to write, and do sketches and doodles describing the day which I throw out, but when I return, I see that the boss has taped it to the wall (blush). When I saw last week's it seemed to me to be out of someone's art journal and I thought, See? you can do it too!

Three people of note came in. A famous Canadian author, whom I recognized only because he had been my boss as editor of Macleans Magazine back in the days when I was a young thing transcribing foreign correspondents' reports (Julie and I were there at the same time).

Then a film and TV actress (with two Genie Awards to her name) whom I first met when I interviewed her for a profile for a New York magazine and, later, for an article in Chatelaine. I would bump into her around the neighborhood but hadn't see her in a few years. She came in looking for a biography for background work for a new role. We had a nice visit (I've always liked her a lot, and her work is formidable) and got all caught up with our news.

 To cap it all off, as I was closing, I noticed a young man in profile looking through some books and did a double take -- it could have been my nephew, Sam. Same build, same age, same colouring, same profile, and when he turned around and asked me about some author or another, I was struck again by the resemblance. I had to tell him about Sam. He said he was doing TV commercials, and all the while I was struck by his utter sweetness. Really, he moved me. He asked my name and shook my hand. His name was John.

Today is all mine. I have to do laundry.







[Photo credits: unknown -- please forgive me.]

More flea market finds

I visit this flea market without leaving home. It's like my own little private place -- except it's very public. It's the Flea market at mantofev.com

I've known Sara for years and I visit her site regularly: she has my loyalty because she not only does the work for me, but she also fits my budget.

My fleamarket find

For years, I've wanted a little old painting, dimmed by time, to mix in with my newer items. Last Sunday, at Aberfoyle, I spied this little gem. It may not look old in the photo, but in reality, it's darker and murkier-looking. The frame is wood and in great condition, the painting is on masonite and it's signed. It's the back of the painting that's a bit of a mess and that attests to its real age. The price was right (for me). So I brought it home. A week later, I'm still very happy that I didn't pass it by.

I could clean it up, but I'm not going to. There is so much charm in the way it is. When I'm gone, perhaps it will end up at a flea market again, and some tender soul will take it home and cherish it. I hope.

If...

If Marie-Antoinette had been a laundress, she may have lived a longer and happier life.....

[This, and other new listings are now on eBay.]

Dialogue

--Don't forget me when you're "a somebody."

--I won't forget you, but you will treat me differently. You will shy away from me, or resent me, or put me up on a pedestal.
I won't change. Will you?

A big fat thank you

I've been receiving so much support for my hand-carved rubber stamp collection for Stampington, both online and privately, and from three continents. I'm so grateful, and delighted, and thankful! 

I thank you. Truly, I thank you!

Meanwhile

This is what I've been doing at night. One carving at a time, to add to the collection I'm designing for Stampington. I can't show you anything, obviously, but stay tuned. I'll probably be levitating with joy when the collection is published! This is one project I never saw coming but that made me so very happy! I'm reminded of the time I was sending my manuscript to book publishers -- my wise friend said: keep sending it out; after all, it only takes ONE editor to love it and sign you on. It's the same with art. It only took ONE editor to love my work and take me on (Jenny Doh), and it only took ONE publisher to give me my own stamp collection (Kellene Giloff).

One proviso: You have to keep working, working hard, never giving up on yourself and your work.

And now I have to go and vote. We have Provincial elections happening. Then after a few errands and a visit downtown to see Cori at Trimarchi's, and I'll be back to finish the carving!

First things first

Ruth Rae and Kelly Snelling are auctioning jewelry that appeared in their book, A Charming Exchange, all proceeds to benefit Breast Cancer Awareness next month. Do visit their blog for more information. 

I'm on a two-day-long job that's leaving no time for anything but breathing. I'll be back Wednesday.

Have a productive Tuesday!

Wishing you a gentle weekend.

Friday's child

I had coffee with a writer who, for as long as I've known her, has taken the process of writing much too seriously. She waxed poetical about semi-mystical notions of creative energy and philosophical meanderings. "The blank page terrifies me," she said, tapping her forefinger nervously on the side of her cup. "I think I have writer's block."

"Maybe thinking too much about the process is causing it," I said mildly. "It's not that complicated. You just sit down and write."

"But how do I start if my mind is a blank?"

"If your mind is a blank, then you don't have anything to say. You have to know what you want say before you can actually write anything."

She gave me a look. I finished my espresso. The dogs barked, and the caravan moved on.

Walking

Moody weather in the waning days of summer, warm and hazy. Bad for the hair which turns to cottonwool, good for walking thanks to a little cool breeze. I took photos along the way, mostly of the produce at the Harvest Wagon which is situated between my address and downtown.

However, Blogger is not allowing me to post photos. "Due to an internal error", it informs me. I ascertained that the error was not in my interior, but in Blogger's complicated interiors, so the photos will have to wait until Blogger's internist diagnoses the problem and performs the surgery. So hello and goodbye, for now. I'll see you later.

The surgery was successful: here are the photos.

Shoes

I love shoes, I always have. Esthetics apart, for me, shoes symbolize the base on which we stand (our feet carry the rest of us), moving forward (not backwards), confidence, strength....

In my life, faced with adversity, I've always moved forward, consciously or unconsciously. I may have fallen backwards occasionally, but I've always pushed on, driven by what I really don't know. Survival? The conviction that there had to be something better?

One of the sayings I live by is, "I moved forward when there was no path." I don't know who wrote that, but I thank him or her.

[Shoe stamp by my friend Dawn Houser.]

Totem

I never grew out of my childhood love of turtles and tortoises. I've had this stone for years; it's my totem, reminding me that slow and steady gets me there every time, that I may be a late-bloomer but I will always get there.

It is also, of course, a symbol: Turtle Island, the aboriginal name for North America.

After two days of labor, I have Labor Day to myself. I think that's the point of the holiday.

I didn't have time to do much scribbling...uh, I mean, calligraphy... but enough to know that I need a narrower nib for the look I want.

And a lot of practice.

Calligraphy

I've always loved calligraphy, typography and fonts. My maternal grandfather taught me how to write at a very early age: from correctly holding the pen to forming the letters. And when I take the time, I can write fairly well. When I take the time....

I've thought of studying the art of calligraphy, but I'm too impatient, so years ago I bought a calligraphy pen, the kind with ink cartridges, and played with that. I didn't like the ink though, and I've long since lost that pen. A few years ago, I got a dip pen from Curry's and some acrylic ink. Again, I didn't like the ink. Finally I wised up when I saw a little bottle that said "Calligraphy Ink." (Yes, I know, so obvious!)

Today I got a new nib and decided to test both nib and ink on a background painted with acrylics. Eureka! I love the effect. Another obsession is about to begin.

Wishing you all a pleasant long weekend. I will be at the bookstore Saturday and Sunday, and will spend Monday -- you guessed it -- with my pens and ink, scrawling on every bit of paper I can find..........

September song

It's already September and it's already thursday.

Toronto is gearing up for the film festival, bonjour 'ollywood, and I'm gearing up for many shifts in the bookstore because I'm filling in for someone who is going on vacation for the whole month. The skies were filled with jet noise, which reminded me that the Snow Birds are gearing up for their aerial acrobatics... may they be safe.

I took advantage of today to do lots of stitching and planning for new projects. It's what I do, and you know what? it's what I love to do.

Be prepared

I like ceramic tiles. If I could, I would have, say, a backsplash in my kitchen of plain (neutral) tiles punctuated with just one image that made me happy. Meanwhile I have to content myself with "faux" tiles...

The cooler weather, although unusual for the last few days of August, has been a boon for walks and outdoor cafés. There seems to be an infestation of bees -- or are they wasps? I can't tell; we had to fend them off at the café yesterday and I've noticed they're flitting around my balcony.

Someone told me the other day that the Farmer's Almanac is forecasting a very cold winter and that he was planning to move to B.C. for the winter. No such luxury for me, I said, so I'd better buy some more thick socks and send in my order for hot chocolate. Meanwhile, I'll take it one day at a time, cross my bridges when I come to them, all the while being prepared.