Green

Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles et des branches

Et puis voici mon coeur qui ne bat que pour vous.

'Green' - Paul Verlaine

This month, the NaBloPoMo theme is Green, and how appropriate that I spent a day cycling through green. The Boyfriend and I spent a lovely summer afternoon riding through Niagara Wine Country, stopping at wineries, huffing and puffing up the Niagara Escarpment, rolling past orchards, admiring lush gardens.

It's a privilege and a luxury to do something like this in a place such as this. We had set aside just a little time for the trip -- only overnight. But one lovely day was all we needed. Even the brisk wind we rode into didn't seem so dreadful, although on the return trip it blew at our backs and I was grateful, considering how many wine bottles loaded down my panniers.

The people serving tourists in Wine Country are all pleasant. Of course, this is essential if you want a hope of someone buying your product. But even the guy picking blackberries off his fence beside our parked car was friendly. He shared a few berries with us, to my delight. All the more charming because it was completely unecessary.

We've settled into a B&B for the night. It's right on the shore of Lake Ontario. Toronto's skyline is visible almost straight across. The sunset was gorgeous, the water calm, the grass and trees are at their greenest moment of the summer, the taste of fine wine is still warm in my mouth. We could have it worse, now, couldn't we?

Here - some fruit, some flowers, some leaves and branches,

And here - my heart which beats for you alone.

Risk Averse?

From Craigslist Personals:

"The absolutely wildest thing I have ever done was… "

Hold on, let me think about that.



Ummmmmmm...




I guess that would have to be having sex in a university art studio after class. The second most wild would be making out with the baddest boy at the party until sunrise. The third wildest? Speaking up at a city-wide union meeting.

Or maybe it was agreeing to go sailing just before the biggest storm of the season broke over the water. Or deliberately getting so bombed at my own birthday party that I would finally know what it was like to get vomitously (made up that word) drunk. Or maybe it was biking to work through rush-hour traffic for two years straight.

Le sigh.

Not especially wild after all, but then again, not bad for a girl who normally takes very calculated risks. It's not that I shy away from recklessness, it's just that I usually make sure most of the recklessness of the activity is eliminated, so that I don't get caught and have to explain myself to the dean of arts/hostess of the party/members of my union local/emergency room doctor.

And yet, my investment profile is considered "high-risk".

I guess it's clear where my priorities lie...

I Am Woman, See Me Bellydance

Well, I'm back at 'er, after a long spell toiling for the bitch goddess Opera. Loved it, but working both the opera chorus and the Science Centre sucked up almost every minute of free time I had. And the weekend after, my sister came a-callin' from Calgary (the first time any family member has ever come just to visit lil' ol' me). So my time was still not my own.

So now here I sit, in the flotsam and jetsam of my basement suite, avoiding housework like it's the flu.

Lots of stuff has crossed my news desk in the last week, including Kathryn Bigelow's historic Best Director win at the Oscars, the beginning of the Paralympics, which CTV dutifully relegated to second-string (must play the advertisers' tune..), more violence in Belleville, ON., and the minimal media coverage of International Women's Day in Canada. Is that latter thing a good sign or a bad sign? Good in that maybe we've come far enough that we don't need a day to recognise our accomplishments? Bad in that well, it's International, if not Universal, and in some places quite a big deal, but not in The True North Strong and Free, where there's still plenty of inequality. And why isn't it International Women's MONTH, for heaven's sake? More than half the population of the world is female. You'd think we warranted more than a measly 24 hours to celebrate ourselves. And it's been celebrated since 1911. Next year is the centenary, for the love of all that's feminine! Give us our month!! We are, after all, ruled by monthly cycles!!!!

Speaking of the feminine and of celebrations, my friend had an early birthday get-together at a west-side club which was featuring a funky belly-dancing extravaganza. There was a groovy, gypsy-ish/middle eastern-ish band, guest belly dancers, and a room full of women young and old who were shaking their thangs and gyrating for all they were worth. I haven't been surrounded by that much estrogen since my last Stitch 'n Bitch, which was quite a while ago. All these smiling women swaying their hips, and waving their arms, swathed in filmy skirts and scarves sporting sparkly sequins (a little alliteration, woot!), made me feel good, very good.

My friend's boyfriend wasn't all that wowed by what he felt was this odd combination of navel-gazing and contrived, sexualized exhibitionism, but I felt it was a rather unique and peculiarly feminine thing, 'cause it really wasn't for the guys at all.. For me, it was an unusual, but not unwelcome, celebration of our individual selves and our shared experiences. Kind of a bellydancing love-in.

Sweet.

This IS Eden

I *heart* this article. Darwin forever!!!!!

A. A. Gill on Kentucky's Creation Museum Culture: vanityfair.com