No Energy Friday

Uninspiring weather had me doing very, very little on Friday. My highlights were a lunch with my "brother" Dwight and dinner with my dear friend Miss Nicky. OTher than walking to and from those dates, the only moving was at the cellular level as I spent the day reading and watching. Some highlights:

1. I watched The Mighty Uke  (linked) which is a surprisingly moving and highly stimulating study of the ukulele and the highlights included a 19-year-old virtuoso from Hawaii and another who is 101 years old and a truly inspiring and remarkable man from Langley B.C. named Peter Luongo. Mr. Luongo is a master player/teacher and he is absolutely charismatic. I found him online and wrote him the love letter of my life and his response is a keeper.
2. The current Vanity Fair contains two thoroughly depressing entertainment industry backstories: the debacle behind Rebecca and the machinations of the making of Brad Pitt's World War Z. These two stories depressed the hell out of me as a creative person and a writer as they revealed how strong a role the "marketing machine" plays in the making of contemporary entertainment. Read about Rebecca here (linked). Read about World War Z here (linked).
3. I watched a TED Talk by David Blaines  (linked) and I would have said to anyone: "A story about a magician? Not interested!" But Mr. Blaines revealed himself to be a fascinating, bright, obsessive and gentle man with remarkable discipline and drive. He is a complex introvert and at the end, when he tries, in one sentence, to say what "magic" (or illusion) means to him, he chokes up and so did I.

Rita Goes to Hospital

Today was a fabulous modest walking day that began and ended spectacularly.

The day began with an email telling me my play is under consideration for production at a local theatre. Awesome!

I walked in perfect weather to Brock Fahrni Pavillion where Rita lives—she who is ninety years old—to take her to Dr. Kirstir's office for a check up on her macula. It went very well. Funny note: Dr. Andrew Kirster shares his office with two other eye specialists and one of them is Dr. Andrew Merster. I don't make these things up.

On the way home, I went to The Right Shoe and bought myself two pairs of new running shoes that, with my new orthotics, complete my new smart foot packaging. All my adult life I bought size shoes; these shoes were professionally fit by experts working with my orthotics centre next door and they are size eleven and a half. It wasn't vanity, the problem, it was ignorance.

I LOVE my new shoes.

 Wolfe Street has some incredible stately old homes. This one stood out and is for sale. 

 The beautiful Beth Israel Synagogue on Oak Street is completely gutted as part of a massive rebuilding (above and below).

Rita.

Pinks, as my mother called them, provided me with my first nasal orgasm. 

 My route to Rita took me right past the theatre considering my script.

A reminder of Nice, my second home on the Cote d'Azure where the poppies grow like this.

Wednesday in the Best City in the World

What rain?  We are having the best Spring I can remember.

Wednesday and my hips are saying, "Give us a break." So Wednesday was a day to get some things done. First, I met with my friend and awesome cultural administrator Dawn to discuss a plan we are hatching to help my favourite charity, PAL Vancouver, become more successful with fundraising. That meeting went very well.

Then I met with a rep from a local theatre company who was "testing the waters" and I am excited even if it comes to nothing. The company is considering producing my play which I recently publicly workshopped. I am extremely hopeful but not expectant; I am in the perfect mindset.

In the evening, I went to The Flame, a storytelling collective I sometimes appear with but I left at the break  because two of the three first presenters were weak and nothing is worse than an open mike in front of an undisciplined speaker.

 I could look at flowers all day every day and never get bored. A friend recently sent me a link to an academic website studying the Birds of Paradise; they and flowers prove that God loves beauty.

See! God is the greatest artist. 

The city is finally addressing the bog problem around this popular but hideous piece of public art.

My hideous bitch within was seething with distaste for this young man with his pants BELOW his bum, his spitting and his habit of calling his girlfriend "bitch." How does this happen to young men? Too many music videos? I was disgusted by everything I saw on him and everything that came out of his mouth but then I realized the little monster had brought three friends to see a sculpture. That moves me and that is why I respect this vulgar public art installation.

Tuesday: Nosegay

My Tuesday walks were two: one around town in the morning doing errands and the other in the late afternoon walking from Wreck Beach to 4th and Alma. The highlight of my day was the smorgasbord of smells I enjoyed.

Our sense of smell is a wondrous thing; it is such a powerful force in memory. Certain fragrances that wafted into my brain today—carnations, stock, clover and cut grass—zoom me back to some of my earliest memories and I almost feel like I am five years old. Long-forgotten memories are so vivid when these smells bring them to my foreground.

I enjoyed a mid-day lunch with friends Tom and Liz from London between my walks and then, as soon as lunch was over, I cabbed to Wreck Beach because it was just so gloriously hot and sunny. I had a lovely hour and a half just taking in the view and then walked much of the way back home but I was tired. I have been doing a lot of walking.

Wreck Beach is my beach because it has so many places where one can disappear and be alone and down there, below the cliffs, there is no sound of man. And it is far away. There are lots of beaches mere minutes from my house, but they are full of people and I like to be undisturbed by city noise, pets, kids, cell phones and loud people.

A side effect of walking I am enjoying, is getting more sleep. I recently read in the New Yorker that scientists have discovered a specific gene that people share who exist on for or five hours of sleep and I have wondered since if I am one of those people. I'd like to think I am so that I can stop feeling guilty about sleeping so little. I wake up, normally, at four int he morning. When I walk a lot, I sleep until five.

 My morning errands took my past the former Sun Tower where my father worked for the few years we were a "normal" family; before mother's collapse began. I watched my uncle set hot lead type here and befriended many journalism and photojournalism stars here in the 1950s.

 Can you see the shattered glass? It is summer in Vancouver and all the addicts are busy. You see evidence of B&Es everywhere.

Above are two of four Paperback Maples that form a small grove on the grounds of Totem Park at UBc. They are a favourite tree of mine.

Above and below is  the massive meadow on North West Marine Drive that I just love. It is used, but only by one or two people.

In the Endowment Lands, you pass many homes of the 1%.

Monday: YAY!

Yesterday was my ideal summer walking day: sunny and warm but not hot, a weekday (no crowds on the sidewalks or at my destination) and no agenda. My orientation to the familiar had me drawn to repeat the trip to Wreck Beach. I love it because after a long walk, I can chill at the beach for a bit and then walk back—or at least part way.

From standing up at my desk to depart to being on my blanket at the beach was 2.5 hours—I am in good shape! 

Seeing with new eyes. I have passed this little place on Broadway hundreds of times—perhaps over a thousand times and never noticed its charm until yesterday. Everything is maintained immaculately.

IN Vancouver, everything is a garden, even this little corner plot between a sidewalk and the curb for a fire hydrant.

 I watched bees enter these beautiful wild roses at the beach and they would be buzzing and almost frantic with delight at the amount of pollen. They would walk through the stamens like a kid giddy over being in a candy store with the clerk gone. It was like they were delighted/intoxicated. It was fascinating.

Can you say "Orange!"

I never tire of this spectacular view of my city when I walk back from UBC along the beaches. Plus, I walk almost the whole way on grass and I love that.

Looking ahead!

Fabulous Sunday

Fabulous because:

1. It was gloriously sunny.
2. I walked from home to Cambie and S.W. Marine and then back to 49th and Cambie to take the Canada Line subway home.
3. Then I went to dear friends Liz's and Tom's engagement party—driven there and back with Kitty and Alan whom I love.
4. Then I went to bosom-buddy Dwight's place for pizza with his family.

The walk was nice because I left at 9:30am and there was practically no one on the street. And yes, I am a creature of habit—I love walking Cambie Street.

Mosaic in the sidewalk near Oakridge.

 A Sequoia on Cambie. I adore these trees. I love their symmetry and the way the branches begin at ground level. There is a grove of Sequoia near 57th and Cambie.

 The incredible structure of the Honeysuckle.

 The Dogwood is the official tree of BC and they are all in bloom right now.

 Look like anything?

 Liz' parent's incredible garden—30 years in the making (above and below).

The view from their deck.

Mel, the gardener. A warm, wonderful host and Liz's Dad. I am passionate about Liz. She once worked for me and I could spend all day every day with her.

 But she belongs to wonderful Thomas—a documentary film maker currently making a film about asteroids for National Geographic.

Dwight's potato and onion pizza.

 Dwight.

Saturday: Lost

Saturday was just uninspiring. One reason: I had one new New Yorker to read but for the rest of the day I just lazed around and enjoyed a short visit from Paula in the late afternoon and in the evening I went for drinks to a local bar with dear friend Bruce. IN the morning, however, I walked just two blocks from my house to the first seasonal Farmer's Market on Comox Street.

 AS you can see, I was the first one there. I got up at 4:00 am this morning.

 Whereas I am not concerned with organic food for health, I LOVE it for flavour.

These Saturday Farmer's Markets, so close to my house, will last until late October.