Afterword

Today is the Winter Solstice, so it is quite fitting that it is time for the annual book review as there’s no better way to spend the longest night of the year than curled up with a stack of wonderful books!

Coriolanus by William Shakespeare

To start off the list, I’ll begin with the oldest book that I read this year. Penned sometime in the first decade of the 1600s, this marvellous play still resonates today. Themes of war, familial obligations, breaking (or keeping with) tradition are ever-present in society, and are emphasized as conflicts across the globe cause strife for civilians and the loyalty of participants is tested as beliefs trump national obligations. Coriolanus was one of the last tragedies that Shakespeare wrote before his death, and it is clear that he has come quite far as a writer. Simplistic themes of star-crossed lovers have been replaced by greater societal motifs that revolve around a citizens duty to the populace - a topic that may have been on Shakespeare’s mind since his popularity as the leading playwright of the era demanded fresh performances for royal audiences and the people alike. What struck me most about this play are Shakespeare’s explorations of the various relationships that Caius Martius Coriolanus has with the people around him; he is a loyal son who follows the path that his mother made for him, but he is also driven by the ambitions of his pseudo-father Menenius, yet is also influenced by the domestic obligations to his wife and child. His relationship with Tullus Aufidius is the most fraught throughout the play, and is one that reveals much about the nature of competition and friendship between men. 

Trolls by Brian & Wendy Froud

Part whimsical picture book, part pseudo-scientific textbook, the Froud’s collaborative exploration of the Trolls of the wildwood was a quick pick for this year’s top 5 books. I’ve been a fan of the Froud’s artwork for years (getting my first taste in the macabré Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book), but Brian Froud hasn’t produced a book this comprehensive in many years. The wait was worth it though, as each page is packed edge to edge with Wendy’s sculptures and Brian’s illustrations, which are carefully balanced with whimsical (but still readable) typefaces to create a wonderful designed book. The layout was often reminiscent of the classic scientific series for children Eyewitness (which explored various topics such as Ancient Egypt or gemstones), which some readers might think detracts from the fragments of “collected troll stories” but which I found absolutely charming and offset the truly fictional portions. 

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

I’ve read a lot of books on World War II, both fiction and non-fiction (and sometimes in-between the two), but nothing is quite like this stunning novel about a young German girl who is orphaned and adopted at the beginning of the war. Unlike most young protagonists in WWII novels, Liesel is not Jewish. She isn’t really much of anything in fact, yet this is what makes her story so intriguing and so unique. Liesel sees her adoptive parents struggle to make ends meet (life isn’t easy for a painter - especially one who has Jewish sympathies), sees them risk everything to hide a young Jewish man as a favour to her stepfather’s deceased friend, and sees their eventual deaths as their city is bombed. What struck me most about this novel is that Liesel is an observer of everything horrific that is going on around her - not always realizing the severity of the situations - but is still able to learn and grow into someone who takes risks for the things that she loves (books - she is definitely my kind of girl) and retains the ability to live a relatively happy life by finding the joy in small things. 

The Fifth Beatle by Vivek J. Tawary & Andrew Robinson

To me, the Beatles are synonymous with art from their creative album artwork to their carefully styled fashion choices, so I was very pleased with the presentation of this graphic novel. It tells the story of Brian Epstein (the manager of the Beatles), but the artist clearly drew on the artistic motifs of the Beatles themselves to depict his fascinating story. Presented in a larger format than in standard for a graphic novel, and published as a book rather than serialized and then collected, this piece of art breaks a lot of boundaries for the graphic novel industry. Relying on the most unified sense of story and art that I have seen in years, this book elevated the story of Epstein - which is actually quite tragic - to a place that is much more accesible. Themes of inspiration, music, adventure, youth, and love abound in an emotional play that is extremely successful. I hope that this collaborative team continues working on Beatles stories and artwork, since they are the perfect fit!

Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor

At the outset of the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy Taylor paves the way for what could have been just a love story; with the final novel she proves that the story of a reborn chimera girl, Karou, is so much more. Once realizing who and what she is (clearly not human) Karou must face the choice to rejoin her warring chimera brethren and their savage leader or to reject them in favour of her angel lover and the wrongs committed in the past. Her choice is unexpected, even for readers, and the strategic gamble that she enacts is one which finally brings an end to the war between the races. Much more occurs in this novel than can easily be summed up, to the point of Taylor setting up an entirely new series and mythos (please, please, please make it happen!), but she still makes time to reunite Karou and her angel in the final pages, which is sure to please longtime readers of the series. Sometimes we all need to have our cake and eat it too!

*images courtesy of Goodreads

Intermission

Is it just me, or are movies getting worse? I swear, last year it was difficult to choose 5 movies that I actually seriously enjoyed, but this year was even more difficult. There were so many highly anticipated films this year that I watched and tolerated, but were nothing even close to spectacular enough to make the short-list, much less the final list. The world screamed with applause for the Lego Movie (that song makes me want to kill someone), Tumblr was inundated with Guardians of the Galaxy posts (besides baby Groot dancing I was not overly impressed), and a plethora of sequels filled the majority of other timeslots (some were enjoyable, but nothing to be super excited about). Thankfully there were a few films that made the grade, some of which came as a surprise to even me!

Maleficent

I went into this movie expecting the worst - I’ve been over Angelina Jolie for ages, the Sleeping Beauty story has never been one of my favourites, and Disney live action is almost never carried off successfully. But as soon as they hit the scene where Maleficent’s wings are taken by her so-called-friend Stefan I was hooked. This feisty fey-woman is not one to be trifled with, and you better believe that some stolen wings aren’t enough to cripple a woman who is part dragon. Clearly I have a fondness for dragons and a good revenge story where the lady gets her revenge, but besides that the story had a lot of other good moments as well. The look on Maleficent’s face when Aurora decides that she is her fairy godmother is priceless, the crow-man was an interesting character foil, and to top it all off the CGI was pretty damned good. Now if only the upcoming remake of Cinderella didn’t look like such drivel…

Only Lovers Left Alive

Tom Hiddleston. Tilda Swinton. Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton as vampires. Need I say more? Everyone knows that I love a good vampire film, but so often they are a disappointment. I blame Twilight for that. But Only Lovers Left Alive goes back to the classic roots of the genre and explores how people who live forever deal with an ever-changing and ever-degrading world. Driven by Tilda’s and Tom’s representation of a vampire couple who live for their books and their music (respectively) and of course each other we are given a sharp, witty, and macabre social commentary on what happens when humans pollute the world, all wrapped up in an artfully filmed format. 

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Considering that I despise every single other film that Wes Anderson has directed/written I was in absolute shock over how much I liked this one! Apparently I’m not the only anti-Wes-Anderson person to be won over by this film, so maybe it’s not so crazy. The cast is still pretty vast, and the plot is still on the ridiculous side, but the setting was beautiful and there were so many amusingly sarcastic moments that it would have been difficult not to get caught up in the film. Maybe it’s because Anderson was working from someone else’s story (it’s based on the writings of Stefan Zweig) that made all the difference, but what I found the most different was getting outside of the character claustrophobia that seems to be present in the rest of his films and what makes them so shallow. Or maybe his hipster-esque pseudo-literary style of storytelling (yeah, I went there, deal with it) can’t be applied to a European setting and is therefore replaced with something that’s actually meaningful. 

Yves Saint Laurent

A last minute addition to the list comes in the form of the bio-pic about fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent. Like biographical books, bio-pics are totally not my thing, but for some reason YSL is the exception on both fronts, since the Alice Rawsthorn biography made my book top 5 list previously. This film felt very much like Rawsthorn’s book, as it is a pretty open depiction of YSL’s exciting and troubled life and focuses a lot on the relationships he had with the people who were his friends. In particular, the film focused on Pierre Bergé, who’s narration and moments outside of YSL-mania really hit an emotional nerve. The film comes off feeling like a lingering post-death love letter to the recently departed Yves, which is surprising as it is not billed as such. It’s just the story of one man’s life, his fame, and his hardships, which each viewer will likely interpret differently. 

Coriolanus (National Theatre Live)

Technically, the Donmar Warehouse’s staging of William Shakespeare’s play Coriolanus isn’t a film, but since I saw it in theatre thanks to National Theatre Live I am counting it as such! I mean, how often do you get to see an original Shakespeare staging in London with world-class actors live? I sure can’t afford the plane fare (yet), but National Theatre Live did an amazing job filming the Donmar Warehouse’s minimalist and traditional staging of one of the lesser known Shakespeare productions, so it was totally worth the slightly exorbitant ticket price. Unlike the recent movie version of Coriolanus (2011), this adaptation kept the setting Roman which made all the difference when it came to the actors. Hiddleston is pushing the age limit of Coriolanus a bit (I picture him as being closer to early/mid 20s than early 30s to explain his political immaturity), but he pulled off the entitlement themes perfectly and was offset well by Hadley Fraser’s Tullus Aufidius. 

Musical Interlude

Hey all, it’s been ages since I’ve posted, but it’s December and that means I have to get back to blogging because it is my favourite time of the year: review season!

Last year my top 5 album list was all about EDM, featuring the return of classic Daft Punk and emergence new kid on the scene Avicii, but this year my tastes surprised me. Instead of being all about albums to make you move I was into songs with a message and beautiful melodies this time around, seemingly without much choice, since each of these albums was stuck on repeat pretty much as soon as I heard them. 

When Foster the People first hit the scene with “Pumped up Kicks” I was not impressed; it wasn’t until I heard “Coming of Age” that I thought that there might be something more to this band. With the release of Supermodel I discovered a sound that reminds me of the West Coast, since their songs sound like they should be paired with a road trip and a summer sunset. Critics weren’t so impressed with the album - the pop sound was too dissonant with the social commentary themes - but that’s exactly what I love about it. Like my old favourite American Idiot by Green Day, social criticism pairs perfectly with a sing-a-long. 

For someone who’s pretty jaded about life it came as a surprise to me how much I liked the most positive song of the year - “Happy” off of Pharrell’s latest, GIRL. Maybe it was the clever lyrics again, or possibly the snappy beat, but more likely it’s because I rarely dislike anything that Pharrell creates (I’ve been a fan since his stint in N*E*R*D). It also helps that he has mad style that is glamourous & classic while being absolutely urban (dude rocks a Louis Vuitton hat in the video for "Marilyn Monroe") - much like many of the songs off this album. Classical strings open tracks like “Marilyn Monroe” before sliding into sick beats that are oh-so-dance-able. 

I blame my addition of the Black Keys’ Turn Blue to the list on my love of USA Network’s very-New-York tv program Suits, since I tend to steer clear of anything deemed to be under the mantle of “hipster.” But I couldn’t resist the gritty bass sound of songs like “Fever” and “It’s up to You Now” so I gave the rest of the album a listen and was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Some tracks sound very classic rock n’ roll (“Gotta Get Away”), others are reflective (“In our Prime”), and they’re all perfectly nostalgic. 

The most dance-able album on the list besides Pharrell has to be the latest from the Kooks, Listen. Once again we’re hit with clever lyrics masquerading alongside intricate guitar riffs, sick beats, and dirty bass that screams London in the best way possible. It’s not often that I wait in such anticipation for an album to drop, but after hearing “Around Town” I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the entire set of tracks - which proved to meet and exceed my expectations. Many of the songs have familiar sounds (not surprising considering that the Kooks blatantly reference the Beatles, funk bass lines, and the Rolling Stones), but they mash everything together in such a way that tracks like “Forgive & Forget” and “It was London” will have fans of either classic British-invasion band jamming along. 

Last, but not least, is the debut album the Balcony from Catfish and the Bottlemen. I first heard the album singles on BBC Radio 1 DJ Zane Lowe’s show, and was very impressed with how mature the band’s sound was considering how new they are. Their content is very relationship-focused in theme - with pointed lyrics that exemplify the highs (“Fuck it if they talk/fuck it if they try and get to us”) and lows (“it’s obvious you don’t try”) - so maybe the album just came along at the right point in my life to hit something emotional, but the sound is still so wonderful that I can’t imagine not loving this album. Hopefully the band keeps up the momentum, since I can really see them being something awesome. 

Autumn Dreaming: a Sunday Shoe Story

I

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odours plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!

II

Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky’s commotion,

Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed,

Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread

On the blue surface of thine aëry surge,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge

Of the horizon to the zenith’s height,

The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

Of the dying year, to which this closing night

Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,

Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere

Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear!

III

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,

Lull’d by the coil of his crystàlline streams,

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae’s bay,

And saw in sleep old palaces and towers

Quivering within the wave’s intenser day,

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers

So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou

For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,

And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear!

IV

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;

If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;

A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulse of thy strength, only less free

Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,

As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed

Scarce seem’d a vision; I would ne’er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chain’d and bow’d

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

V

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like wither’d leaves to quicken a new birth!

And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West Wind

Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star Hightops in Red Tartan; Silver jeans

What Happens in Vegas...

Sorry kids, I totally missed last week’s post, but I have a good excuse! I was in Las Vegas with my BFF, and decided that shopping-adventuring-being weird was more important than blog-writing. #Priorities!

It’s hard to put Las Vegas into words, but over the last week I’ve tried. Kind of successfully… I’ve described it as “full of fake trees” (palm trees aren’t real trees to this Canadian), “so hot it made me sick” (in reference to the temperature change going into a/c-ed stores), “full of temptation" (I mean the Dior, YSL, and Louboutin boutiques), and my personal favourite “like walking around in a cloud of cancer” (in reference to the smoke anywhere you want rule). 

Surprisingly, once I got over being travel sick on the first day, I had a lot of fun. Lots of shopping, lots of sights to see, and lots of unusual people to be seen. More surprisingly, I only had to get cranky with one pushy club promoter. (He should know better than to repeat “Excuse me girls” over and over, as he will be told that he is in fact excused). For all the fun that I had though, I don’t think that I’ll go back for a long time; there are just too many places in the world that I haven’t been to yet (*cough* everywhere in Europe), so I’ll cross a good bunch of those off my list before I bother to go back to the City of Sin. 

Waking up in Vegas

You can't go to Vegas without seeing a Cirque du Soleil show.
We saw The Beatles Love at the Mirage!

Tigers and lions and dolphins, oh my!
(Siegfried & Roy's Secret Garden & Dolphin Habitat)

Our hotel is very, very tall... And some people bungee jump off of it
(The Stratosphere)

We gambled a total of $4 while waiting for our table at 9 Fine Irishmen

Tears were shed... But our wallets stayed closed
(Crystals at Aria)

Those are just a sample of the many many many photos that I took during the trip, and if you’re so inclined to see the rest click the link RIGHT HERE :)

Damsel in Distress

Everyone who knows me knows that I’m much more of a city girl than a country girl. I may have grown up in the wilds of BC - where rattlesnakes infest the hills, mountains get climbed on Christmas Day, and the occasional bear turns up in the backyard (all true stories) - but I haven’t gone on a bona-fide nature adventure since high school. 

Last weekend though, I was talked into venturing out to the salt fields of Chaplin in the name of a photo-adventure in an alien landscape. I am my father’s daughter after all, so the part of me that is willing to do anything for a good photo won over the urbanite telling me to stay home and read a book. That, and the novelty of exploring Saskatchewan’s unique geography hasn’t worn off yet. 

Chaplin proved to be well worth the longer-than-expected drive, since it really did look like something out of a sci-fi movie. The high salt content in the soil turned the terrain an odd white and the shallow waterways have attracted a myriad of seashore birds, so there was plenty to take photos of and explore. The only things missing were the crab carcasses and kelp strands that are the mainstays of a true oceanic coastline. 

Things were going wonderfully until I conveniently forgot the old adage “look before you leap;” one wrong step off the path was all it took and I found myself quite literally knee-deep in muck. 

photo courtesy of Dann McKenzie

“Oh shite” was the first of many profanities that began to parade through my head, as I immediately began the extraction attempt. After a few minutes in vain my foot came out, but alas my boot was still 2-feet under. 

At this point most girls would have been shrieking for help, but besides an emphatic “Dann, stop taking photos of me” I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Down on my knees on solid(ish) ground I went, and into the mud went both hands. I pulled and pulled and pulled (while Dann went back to the jeep for a shovel), and to my surprise I actually won the battle for my beloved (now encased in mud) boot. Apparently I love my shoes more than Mother Nature does. 

My poor, poor boots.
The mud came off, but the salt may have ruined them after all.

In retrospect, I was really lucky; a few more seconds and I may have lost my cool and burst into tears. But it’s unexpected trials like this that remind me of one very important thing: I’m not the damsel in distress - I am the dragon. 

(Though it’s good to know that I have a back-up knight in shining armour, who comes prepared with a giant jug of water to wash up with. Getting dirty might have gotten the job done, but I sure as hell don’t like to stay that way).

Working Girl: a Sunday Shoe Story

*Ricki's dress, Le Chateau earrings, Calvin Klein shoes

I Heart Regina

For a city that most people think of as the cultural back-water of Canada (and that’s only what the polite people say), it’s surprisingly full of art. Since I’ve moved here I’ve gone to see theatre three times (twice in theatres - it counts okay - and once live), fallen in love with Gothic/Tudor-revival architecture, and been surprised at the wide range of art and fashion books at the library. But what’s most impressive is that there are little pieces of artwork hidden in plain sight all over the city. Some places it is expected - parks, war monuments, statues of politicos (at least that’s who I assume they are, since I never remember what the plaques say after reading them) - but it’s the little touches of beauty in the least expected places that really get me, so I’m going to share some of my favourites with you. 

For a city that is dead flat, they’ve done a remarkable job at maintaining the tree-lined avenues. The arching branches remind me so much of my heart-city Victoria that I feel much more at home. 

One of the bridges in my neighbourhood is following the example of New York, and is starting to amass a collection of love-locks. A little bit overly-romantic for my cynical self, but for some reason I still like it. 

Apparently I can’t escape the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, since I walk by this post on my evening walk every day. As much as I’m not into the Olympics, I really like the cut-out style of type here as it’s very classy and minimalist. 

This building downtown has a whole bunch of little guardian gargoyles (though they look more like brownies to me), and I can’t help but smile every time I see them faithfully guarding their building. 

Most of the statues in the city are of the normal variety - marble, bronze, etc - but this group of copper people are a step away from normal in that they’re only half there. At first glance the eye tries to fill in the missing pieces, but the brain knows something is off, and when you realize that they’re not whole there’s definitely a “wow” moment. 

I found this adorable wire elephant hiding on the North side of the central library branch, and was instantly charmed. There’s also a grasshopper and a dinosaur in other parts of the city, but the elephant is my favourite!

I’m a total sucker for old-school lampposts, so I was absolutely delighted to see them scattered all through the paths of Regina’s main park. I can’t wait until the first snow comes so that I can do a Narnia/Snow Queen photoshoot all wrapped up in elegant furs!

The bridge on Albert Street has a whole bunch of artistic touches, but my favourite are the decorative support posts that line each side. It’s surprising how well the colours have stood against the elements, since I’ve never seen anyone repainting them. 

As the sign says, I really do heart Regina, and I’m sure that the longer I live in the city the more unexpected touches of beauty I will find and the more I will grow to love it. If only the winters were slightly less cold… 

Working Overtime

I know I’ve already Tweeted, and Facebook-ed, and Social Media-ed the video that our team at the Archives put together for a digital exhibition at the Legislative Assembly building - not to mention that my boss beat me to the [blog]punch a few days ago - but I’m really proud of the video and feel the need to shout from the rooftops again. Okay, maybe not shout from the rooftops, since it’s a lot of effort to scale a building and I dodged the radioactive spider, but at least a little explanation of our efforts and achievements are due. 

So the story starts off in late June. The boss had just returned from his vacation in Europe, and we in the Preservation Management Unit and Digital Records Program were steadily working away on a variety of projects. I was waging war against our new OCRing (optical character recognition) software and forcing it to cooperate with our newly digitized microfilmed newspapers (another big project that’s scheduled for launch in November), but when our team was given the opportunity to create a four-year exhibit to commemorate the Great War the boss said yes (we followed suit) - and then started cooking up some wild ideas. 

We’ll find diaries of Sasketonians who lived during the war years, he said.

We’ll scan a whole bunch of never before exhibited materials, he said. 

We’ll research artists, and photos, and make a giant banner (or two), he said.

We’ll get a giant high-definition television, he said.

We’ll make a display of archival material that we can change every year, he said. 

No. We’ll make a MOVIE, he said.

All in four-and-a-half-weeks, he said…

And so we did. Research was conducted: the diaries of soldier-bros were found (seriously, they are brothers), regimental escapades were laughed over, interviews with the 46th Battalion were discovered (otherwise known as the Suicide Battalion), and reams of photos & diaries & scrapbooks were scanned. A voiceover script was written, people were cajoled into reenacting diaries and speeches, a storyboard was constructed, and video segments were parsed together. 

And at the end of it all we wound up with an unsurprisingly fantastic video and accompanying brochure (hello, we’re awesome, and we don’t do things half-assed) that went live on August 4th at the Legislative Assembly Building during the re-commemoration ceremony. Our exhibit will be up for the next four years, with the current instalment lasting until next Spring when it is replaced by a second exhibit of materials which focus on the war during 1915. 

If you’re in Regina you should definitely check it out live (the experience is practically cinematic considering the size of the television that was donated by Radio Centre), and if not you can always check it out on our YouTube channel which I’ve embedded below!

***update: we couldn't upload the HD version of the video until our account was verified, but it's live now so you can revel in the full visual/auditorial brilliance! (It really makes a difference with the newspaper pages, since you can read the smaller type-sets)

40 Days & 40 Nights

No, this isn’t a post about the Josh Hartnett movie from 2002, but this post is about giving something up. Namely my biggest vice: shopping. 

Now, those of you who know me know that I don’t abide by any form of organized religion, least of all Christianity (don’t even get me started), so during the Lenten season I don’t bother giving anything up for the 40 days before Easter. Besides the tradition of Fat Tuesday (any excuse for a pancake feast) I don’t see the point of giving up the things that I love. My vices are pretty non-harmful and are generally under control so being told that I should give up something “just because” doesn’t really fly with me. 

That being said, in 40 days I’m going on my first passport-stamp-able international adventure (my 12-year-old trip to Disneyland came before the 9/11 drama of children needing passports) with my BFF to Las Vegas, mostly for the point of shopping. Come on, this is us, and shopping is what we do when we’re together (as well as driving everyone around us insane with our extrapolated weirdness). Most people go to Las Vegas for gambling, showgirls, and conventions, but besides the practically mandatory Cirque du Soleil show, we plan to shop until we drop. 

We’ve already started working on our plan of attack - shuttle buses to the Premium Outlet Mall(s), second hand book stores, and everything in between - so by the time we get there we’ll be able to hit the ground running. Or not running, since shopping the way that we do is a marathon rather than a sprint. That being said, I figure that there’s not really any point in doing any shopping in the meantime, since anything that I find here I can find in Vegas (and likely for a fraction of the price), so I am making a conscious decision not to buy anything besides groceries (girl’s gotta eat!) for the next 40 days & 40 nights. 

Will I make it, or will my shop-a-holic tendencies take over? I’m betting that I can (I’ve done it before for a lot longer), but a lot can happen between now and the beginning of October…

image from Tumblr

Heat Wave

Most people greet summer with cheers along the lines of “Woohoo, let’s go boating, bitches!” 

My reaction sounds more like “Ugh, what did I do to deserve an early trip to Hell?”

Sure my trip to the hottest place in the Universe is guaranteed (my throne is waiting) & I may have grown up in the only place in Canada that is officially designated a desert (cacti, rattlesnakes, and 40°C are the norm), but that doesn’t mean that I handle temperatures above 20°C well. Starting in early May I refuse to wear closed-toe shoes (don’t even say “sock” to me), daily showers multiply (thank goddess my apartment doesn't water meter), and constant litany of complaints accompanies every drop of sweat that the climbing temperature causes. 

Common phrases include: 

“If only public nudity was acceptable and I didn’t have morals” 

“You can’t make me go outside.”

“Why didn’t I buy a real air conditioner last year when they were on sale?”

“I’m only going to the mall [again] because they have air conditioning”

“Goddamnit, that’s a third tan line, even with the SPF 110!”

But the most common phrase out of my mouth is always “Is it Autumn yet; I miss _____.” (Fill in the blank with variations of my winter wardrobe/hot food/sleeping properly/not sweating off my make-up).

Thankfully we’re only a few short weeks away from Labour Day and the onset of another Saskatchewan Winter. Oh joy for the lack of heat, but then again I’ll likely be complaining about that too. (As my mother always said: “If [you] got paid to complain, you wouldn’t have to work ever again!”) Until that happens though, you can find me planted in front of my fan, with an iced tea with lime in one hand and a bowl of ice cream in the other. 

*Antistar dress in the style of Emilio Pucci; Windmere fan

Throwing Bricks

Being a tourist isn't normally how I like to spend my weekends (books, movies, and a rousing bout of shopping are the norm), but this weekend I decided not to be my anti-social self and tag along with my fabulous coworkers on a trip to the historic Claybank Brick Plant. I won't bore you with the story of the place (you can read all about it on their website), but suffice to say I was pleasantly surprised at how interesting a setting it is and a great opportunity to break out my fancy new digital SLR camera!

The entrance house, with explanatory plaque

The clay for which the plant made its bricks has many interesting textures

I think that Catherine has found her dream house!

Donald, at the top of the clay bank
(apparently climbing is allowed)

Rafters inside the plant

Who knew that brick textures could be so numerous and interesting?
This is just one of the examples

Paula on her way inside the giant kiln
(Don't worry, it hasn't be active in years)