March 16, 2010

Signs of Spring

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under animals, environment, flora and fauna, toronto, weather
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Out and about today, I saw a number of signs that winter is done and we’re moving on.

Birds – cardinals in the morning twilight as we walked the dogs, calling back and forth to one another. Mourning doves sitting on a hydro line, cooing softly. And while I was waiting for a bus, a whole swarm of chickadees (a group of chickadees is actually called a “banditry”, which is awesome, but these ones were almost swarming) were all over the pine trees in front of my building.

Flowers – no crocuses yet, but there are tiny white fritillaries in many of the yards nearby.

Spring cleaning – people are out raking leaves, picking up litter and cleaning windows. They’re also blasting the spring cleaning music – on my walk this afternoon I heard Lady Gaga, some funky jazz and Guns and Roses, all playing on radios while people worked nearby.

Drunk guys in the park by the medical centre. Here’s to a summer without setting anything on fire.

I also saw my first pair of sandals, to complement the many shorts that people were wearing.

It wasn’t an awful winter really – not a lot of snow, not especially cold. But spring sure is nicer.

 

March 4, 2010

Old Punk Rockers Never Die…

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under events and festivals, fashion, music, real life
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Okay, well, technically they do, eventually.

Last night, Greg and I attended a photo exhibit called Toronto Calling, of photos of concerts that took place in the early 80s in Toronto featuring bands like the Clash and the Ramones. We didn’t actually stick around to see the photos, though, as the gallery space was packed solid with old punk rockers, so much so that we couldn’t get in to see the photos.

The era in question took place before my time in Toronto, with most of the gigs featured taking place between 1979 -1981. I arrived in Toronto in late ‘87, so this was not my scene per se, although I was listening to all of these bands back home in Halifax, a no-man’s land when it came to international tours. Hats off to Billy Idol for not forgetting about us in 1984.

But the remarkable thing was that here was a group of people in their late 40s – early 50s… and there was a still a solid punk vibe going on. Piercings, tattoos, oddly-coloured hair. These folks were still flying the freak flag.

Now, I don’t know how many of them had to dig into the depths of their closets, or haul out trunks in dusty attics to find something appropriate to wear. No doubt there were a few accountants or investment bankers amongst the 200 or so people in the gallery. But there is also no doubt that there were people who managed to follow the creative streak that the 80s alternative music scene represented and who went on to become artists, writers, photographers, or musicians. People who were able to grow up, become responsible adults and still stay true to everything that scene represented back in the day.

I’ve heard it said that you can tell a person’s real personality by looking at their shoes. And there was some truly fabulous footwear at this show last night. That in itself is reassuring.

I go through periods of self-doubt in terms of what I’ve done with my life. Not that I’m not happy with where I am, but sometimes I have people come at me who think that I should be living by their terms, not my own. People who make me feel that I have to give up my ethics, my ideals and my whole personality to be accepted and successful. People who would be a whole lot happier if I were to run my life – and my business – as part of the status quo instead of striving for quality and originality.

To them, I flip a hale and hearty punk rock bird. It is possible to live your life without bowing to the pressure to be just like everybody else. To not succumb to the drab, the mundane, the safe. I’ve spent years wondering when I’d finally have to give in – to be “normal” in order to get ahead. Wondering if I’d have to sell out to fit in. But fuck fitting in – it didn’t work for me back in the day – there’s no reason to expect that will change just because I’ve got some wrinkles and grey hair.

And yeah, maybe these folks have all put those days behind them and now live drab little lives in the burbs; 2 cars, 2 kids, mortgage, trip to Disneyland. But there’s also a grain of hope in me that many of them don’t. Because I don’t – and I’m done apologizing for that fact.

 

February 13, 2010

Putting the “Ohhh…” in O-Lympics

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under celebrations, events and festivals, seen and heard
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I wasn’t going to watch the opening ceremonies. we tuned in halfway through the parade of nations, so I missed what was apparently a hackjob of the national anthem and some guy flying through the Olympic rings.

Some thoughts…

- why were there giant dildos giving the Nazi salute in the middle of the stadium?

- all of the volunteers lining the route in the white outfits – didn’t love the puffy skirts, but will hunt down one of those girls for those boots. Had no real opinion on the outfits of the teams other than, “Damn, wasn’t it like 9C in Vancouver today? Aren’t they hot wearing 8 scarves?”

- also, the dotted line for the teams to follow into the stadium would have been cooler if it had been made to look like footprints in the floor of snow.

- of the above-mentioned white-clad volunteers, there was an extremely pregnant gal in camera range near the entrance. I don’t have an issue with her being pregnant or participating, but those volunteers were standing/dancing for a good hour. Which must be a drag when you’re preggers. Or maybe not… So all you pregnant ladies who complain about not being offered a seat on the bus, blame that chick at the Olympics.

- I was unaware that the traditional dress of some First Nations groups was neon pink and green. Also, they’re still dancing – holy crap.

- Nelly Furtado and Bryan Adams – Get off the fucking stage. NOW. Sweet merciful crap, my ears are bleeding.
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February 12, 2010

Down and Dirty versus Clean and Serene

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under home, personality quirks, real life
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For Christmas, my brother sent me a book called Dirt: The Quirks, Habits and Passions of Keeping House. It has been on my wish list for some time now and I was delighted to receive this book of essays about people’s relationships with the spaces they inhabit. I was disappointed once I started reading it though, since most of the essays appeared to be from people attempting to justify their own sloth. Sure, there were a few where the writers dealt with the dirt of others – having to clean the house of a deceased relative who had been a hoarder, for example. There’s also a section of essays written by people who have worked as maids or housekeepers. And even a couple where the essayists wrote about a specific chore; Laura Shain Cunningham loves to wax her floor, Juliet Eastland is obsessed with sheets.

But most of the essays were from people who hated to clean, about why they hated to clean.

Which is where I begin to feel like a freak, because I like to clean. A lot.

There are things I dislike, and downright hate – hate cleaning the shower for instance, and the shower is the only place in the house where mainstream cleaners make an appearance. I live with wall to wall carpeting and would prefer hardwood floors but it’s a rental and the choice is not mine. So I vacuum and steam clean carpets a lot more than I would like, because with two dogs, you can’t NOT keep the rugs clean or else the places gets too doggy smelling. But I don’t think I actually hate the task itself – just the time it takes up.

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February 8, 2010

Nose In a Book

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under books
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It’s a sad fact that most of the reading I do nowadays is work-related. 200+ news articles a day to sort through for Save Your Fork and TasteTO, books to review, articles to edit. And even my “just for fun” stack of reading tends towards food theory.

Before the holidays I combed the book guides in the newspapers and spent an afternoon on the Toronto Public Library website requesting books, a number of which were novels. Three of them finally became available last week and I bemoaned my misfortune and lack of foresight in not making some of them inactive (TPL lets you stay in the queue for popular books but accept them only when you’re ready). How was I going to get through all of these in the three weeks I was allowed to have them checked out?

Of course, I forgot how fast I can read fiction. I forgot what’s it’s like to get my nose in a book. I forgot that when I’m in the middle of a story, nothing else matters and nothing else registers. Being pulled from that story, whether by interruption or necessity is physically, agonizingly painful. Like being awakened in the middle of a sound sleep and dragged out of bed. My facial expression during the 24 hours it took me to read The Book of Negroes was almost permanently at a scowl unless I was actually reading. If I wasn’t in the book, I was thinking about how I could get back to it, or how perturbed I was at having to set it down.

The book wasn’t perfect – while The Book of Negroes has received critical acclaim, there were parts that were a bit clunky or lacking in detail for me. There were parts of the plot that seemed unreasonable and illogical. But it was still an engrossing, really poignant story.

Reading non-fiction the majority of the time, I never really get engrossed. Involved, maybe, but often lots of it is quite dry, full of statistics about farms and things like pesticides (the curse of the food writer). Sometimes it can take me a month or more to get through a particularly difficult book because I don’t ever take the time to sit down and just read. That’s a luxury I can seldom afford.

But novels don’t give you a choice – novels demand to be read, in full, with no breaks – like a movie. They demand that the housework be neglected, commitments be set aside, dogs be ignored and husbands be brushed off – all so that they can engulf and consume the reader.

I don’t have nearly as much time as I’d like to devote to reading fiction. If I tried, nothing else would get done, my world would come to a grinding halt. So it’s a treat that I mete out, little by little. And when I’ve got my nose in a book, think twice before disturbing me. And don’t be surprised if I scowl when you finally get my attention.

 

February 1, 2010

Pay Up

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under communication, media, writing
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Think of all the entertainment-related things you pay for on a daily basis; television via a cable provider, newspapers, magazines, movies, music. It used to be that you had physical proof of these things – with the exception of cable, you could hold them in your hand or you went out and experienced them. Yet, nowadays, most of these things are available via the Internet – some are free, some, like music, must be paid for.

There has been a theory that information on the Internet must be free – that the whole darned thing is supposed to be about the free exchange of ideas. And it is, to a point. But not all ideas are good ideas, and not all information is accurate, and not everything that is available, free or not, is of quality. A point is coming, where, even online, we’re going to have to be willing to pay for quality.

All of this puts me in the odd position of agreeing with Globe and Mail columnist Leah McLaren. I’m not a fan of McLaren, and critics would definitely say that she’s biased in her opinion about how we have to acclimate ourselves to a pay system for accessing news on the Internet (she works for a major newspaper, after all). But she’s right.

Last week, the New York Times announced that they would initiate a “pay wall” in early 2011 – basically a system where people could access a preset number of articles for free and then would have to pay if they went beyond that. Subscribers to the paper version would be given a code to allow them unlimited access online. With ad revenue way down in all forms of print media, all publications are looking for ways to monetize their online presence. Papers like the NYT and the Globe have tried various pay schemes before (predominantly one where readers would get a portion of a story but would then have to buy a paid subscription to see the rest), but it was never really accepted. This system just might.

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January 4, 2010

Into Every Life, A Little Change Must Come

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under pets
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When we first moved into this apartment, we weren’t sure how long we’d stay. I was not keen on the idea of apartment living, and we were still considering buying a house – this was to be a test to see if we could live in a condo without going insane. So we bought a cheap sofa, figuring we’d get another one if/when we moved again. It wasn’t ever very comfortable; I migrated to a chair rather quickly when I discovered that the angle of the seat on the sofa made my leg go numb.The cat shredded the arms, and a certain little brown dog pretty much claimed the thing as her own.

Four years later, we’re still here, after realizing that we could live in an apartment but that most condos won’t allow our large dogs. Four years later, and we really needed a new sofa.

We splurged on what we’ve called “our first grown-up sofa” – a stylish green loveseat that looks like it should be on the set of Mad Men. Other than the fact that the seat is a little deep for me and I need an ottoman (when we checked it out I was wearing boots that make me 2 inches taller; my feet touched the floor fine in the store, not so much at home), we like it very much.

Tula, however, while she likes it fine now, was not especially pleased with the transition.

The old sofa on its way out. Tula is not impressed. “Noooo! Don’t take it away!!”

Bringing new meaning to “curling up in a chair”. Still not impressed.

Dog and blanket installed on new sofa. “I guess this will do.”

 

December 30, 2009

Christmas Amaryllis

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under flora and fauna, holidays
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Most years I send an amaryllis to my Grandmother for Christmas. This year, I bought one for myself, and it bloomed just before the holidays.

This was more of a true pink in the photo on the box – the flower itself turned out to be a salmony pink that I’m not terribly fond of.

Nevertheless, having something grow so fast and then burst out into four huge blooms is still pretty cool to experience. But I’ll probably go with a red one next year.

 

December 22, 2009

Clean as the New Fallen Snow

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under celebrations, flora and fauna, holidays, weather
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We went to the Festival of Lights Solstice parade last night. Which I guess is what you do if you’re not quite sure how else to celebrate the season but want to pay homage to nature, pre-Christian traditions or just generally like the sound of hippies banging drums. Because you can be sure that all the real Pagans and Wiccans who consider this an actual religious event were probably not standing around in Kensington Market last night watching people walk around with lanterns.

However, the idea of celebrating the Solstice is much more concrete to me than the birth of Jesus. Yes, I believe Jesus existed, but I’ve always taken umbrage with the idea that early Christians moved the celebration of his birth to coincide with Saturnalia and the Solstice to lure pagans to Christianity through the temptation of a bigger and better party. Almost all of the “traditional” Christmas traditions predate Christ.

Also, as someone who is really into food, sustainability, supporting farmers and enjoying the harvest, the Solstice as the huge year-end celebration just seems to make so much more sense. On the darkest day of the year, it is just so logical and down to earth to celebrate the returning of the sun, without which we could not survive. After a long year of harvesting, the Solstice celebration is not only a way to enjoy what has been reaped in the previous year but a way to look ahead to the the year and new crops and new conquests.

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December 14, 2009

It came without packages, boxes or bags…

Posted by Sheryl Kirby under celebrations, holidays, people are silly
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Someone called me a Grinch today.

Not because I was ranting about how much I hate Christmas -I wasn’t and I don’t – but because I was ranting about the fact the people were complaining about having to do their Christmas shopping.

Now, I’m one of those annoyingly organized people. I make lists and check things off (much like the jolly old elf himself), and most people are not surprised to learn that I keep Christmas on a spreadsheet in my computer. That’s right – a spreadsheet. A workbook actually, with lists of what I bought for people, what they bought for me and what stuff I baked, how it turned out and who liked what (ie. no fruitcake for brother, extra Turkish delight for the folks).

I like to think I know what my recipients like and keep an eye open all year for appropriate gifts. That’s why my Grandmother’s gift was bought in August during a trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake, and that book for my brother was nabbed at a holiday book sale in 2008 at a publishers warehouse sale. Yes, that’s right… I buy Christmas gifts a year ahead.

Lest you think I’m insane, let’s talk about right now. My holiday shopping is done, wrapped and shipped off. I have no need to enter malls, fight crowds, settle for crap no one wants or needs, or spend more than I had budgeted. There will be no last minute trek out into the cold night for scotch tape, and no one will receive those dubious pre-packaged gifts of hot chocolate and ugly mugs (because nothing says “I had no idea what to get you and couldn’t be bothered to think about it” more than a pre-packaged gift basket).

What I don’t get is why people put themselves through the whole thing. You had a whole year… why did you leave it to the last minute – again???

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