Monday, November 29, 2010
Margot Polo TBA.
This is a loose idea. I will be in Winnipeg from the 23rd until the end of December, so around then.
Bloomingdales.
It is Doll season at the Sad House. Long limbed creatures are blooming out of the corners (Jill, Auntie Sue), it is nice. I was suddenly sad this evening after a good day with Leo. I kept thinking Auntie Marj's voice at Reimer gatherings. Anyway, sometimes there are tears.
So I have been busy, holing up and away, darting out now and again, but sewing. Thus the neglect. Je m'excuse. It is nice, although I am still learning to jump in. Percy, Hilde, Rhoda. Bodies are lying around. Fabric falls under Simple Canvas or Interesting Floral. I am going to take the dolls to work tomorrow and see what Leo does. I am going to try to make that kid the CRAZIEST doll for his first birthday. December 11, 2010, Leo turns one.
So Leo and dolls. We went to the french daycare today. The Blue starfish snowsuit with the flare stroller chicken boy vs. Crazy bob rock solid Chinese beauty who loves to ram strollers into walls . Making friends, ripping out other people's hair, holding two balls of different sizes at once with the craziest grin on his face, that is Leo at daycare. Shitting in the playhouse. Haha. Leo. What a guy. He grew today, a whole bunch over the last three days apart! It is nuts how fast babies grow. Whoa! His entire face changed. He is cuter in the tub now! I took a lot of tub pictures today. Almost a quarter of a roll. It was ridiculous. So I like Leo, a lot.
Today was so balmy. That is the most appropriate adjective I think. Little whitecaps of snow, fleeting snow. I like Montreal weather! When it's good, its good. The cold gets me (probably because I refused to wear a proper coat up until about two weeks ago). But I have a real jacket this year, and two types of good boots and warm clothes and the best toque for my weird little head. The rain is coming apparently. Cold rain.
Life here is good. Gotta sew I think.
Beige, you're up.
If anyone is interested in a Lady Longbody soft doll for Christmas they are going for 40 each or two for 65. Request or get a surprise. I am trying to learn how to make little jumper but all I can do right now is just put together limbs. Time will tell. All of the sudden the Christmas rush is on. Too soon, whoa. Anyway, if enough people would like one (or three), or a pre-ordered drawing, I would love to set up camp (like a tiny Craft Sale, a tiny Margot Polo Presents sale?) somewhere for pick up. Let me know, anyone.
Love to all and to Auntie Marj throwing feathers from somewhere. Aghhhhh, le sigh.
Breathe. Here is a window into the work room this evening.
So I have been busy, holing up and away, darting out now and again, but sewing. Thus the neglect. Je m'excuse. It is nice, although I am still learning to jump in. Percy, Hilde, Rhoda. Bodies are lying around. Fabric falls under Simple Canvas or Interesting Floral. I am going to take the dolls to work tomorrow and see what Leo does. I am going to try to make that kid the CRAZIEST doll for his first birthday. December 11, 2010, Leo turns one.
So Leo and dolls. We went to the french daycare today. The Blue starfish snowsuit with the flare stroller chicken boy vs. Crazy bob rock solid Chinese beauty who loves to ram strollers into walls . Making friends, ripping out other people's hair, holding two balls of different sizes at once with the craziest grin on his face, that is Leo at daycare. Shitting in the playhouse. Haha. Leo. What a guy. He grew today, a whole bunch over the last three days apart! It is nuts how fast babies grow. Whoa! His entire face changed. He is cuter in the tub now! I took a lot of tub pictures today. Almost a quarter of a roll. It was ridiculous. So I like Leo, a lot.
Today was so balmy. That is the most appropriate adjective I think. Little whitecaps of snow, fleeting snow. I like Montreal weather! When it's good, its good. The cold gets me (probably because I refused to wear a proper coat up until about two weeks ago). But I have a real jacket this year, and two types of good boots and warm clothes and the best toque for my weird little head. The rain is coming apparently. Cold rain.
Life here is good. Gotta sew I think.
Beige, you're up.
If anyone is interested in a Lady Longbody soft doll for Christmas they are going for 40 each or two for 65. Request or get a surprise. I am trying to learn how to make little jumper but all I can do right now is just put together limbs. Time will tell. All of the sudden the Christmas rush is on. Too soon, whoa. Anyway, if enough people would like one (or three), or a pre-ordered drawing, I would love to set up camp (like a tiny Craft Sale, a tiny Margot Polo Presents sale?) somewhere for pick up. Let me know, anyone.
Love to all and to Auntie Marj throwing feathers from somewhere. Aghhhhh, le sigh.
Breathe. Here is a window into the work room this evening.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Church Step Gang.
Dano rolled through Montreal today and Mitch, Leo and I enjoyed his blast visit to its fullest! What a nice surprise. We went for a long walk, had some lunch all together and walked around the neighborhood. I left them and hauled Leo back home for a late lunch. Then I finished this drawing while he slept. Drawing no. 2 of the Stone Face series, thank you Lisa!
Again this drawing is loooooosely based upon the photo (taken sans permission as per usge) below.
Again this drawing is loooooosely based upon the photo (taken sans permission as per usge) below.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Amen Sisters.
I drew this today at work. Three sisters floating in floral, polka and stripe. My kind of women. Lisa sent me this goldmine of faces this morning and it was wonderful to sit down and draw at Leo's table. Just a nib and an ink pot and another drawing called Church Step Gang is well on its way. Thank you one million Lisa, my collection for school has taken a sliver of a shape.
I also wept in the middle of the house. A few times today (once while wiping ass, once while spooning breakfast into a smirking mouth, and another time while Leo did laps in the tub) I saw Aunty Marj's face, just felt her so near and for the first time, felt the empty place in my heart. It all came upon me like a great crashing while I was sitting watching Leo smash his xylophone onto the floor. The boy (who has started WALKING) wobbled right on over to my weeping spot and put his little hand on my leg and all was quiet for once. One look at his face and he into mine and I picked up him up and cried for a good five minutes. These are tears Leo. We cry for the people we love, the people we lose and the people we say goodbye to. They taste like the sea. He was quiet and concentrating on this transformed person standing in his space.
After such a hyper active morning of busyness and destruction and chewing on wires like a little mouse (him, not me), followed by an urgent mouth excavation (a small silver pellet?!? WTF), that tiny little person laid his head on my heaving shoulder and without a single peep told me everything was going to be juuuuust fine. Today I found solace in the arms of an eleven month old kid. Sometimes the hard days are good too.
I nearly forgot, the above drawing is loosely based around the photo below.
I also wept in the middle of the house. A few times today (once while wiping ass, once while spooning breakfast into a smirking mouth, and another time while Leo did laps in the tub) I saw Aunty Marj's face, just felt her so near and for the first time, felt the empty place in my heart. It all came upon me like a great crashing while I was sitting watching Leo smash his xylophone onto the floor. The boy (who has started WALKING) wobbled right on over to my weeping spot and put his little hand on my leg and all was quiet for once. One look at his face and he into mine and I picked up him up and cried for a good five minutes. These are tears Leo. We cry for the people we love, the people we lose and the people we say goodbye to. They taste like the sea. He was quiet and concentrating on this transformed person standing in his space.
After such a hyper active morning of busyness and destruction and chewing on wires like a little mouse (him, not me), followed by an urgent mouth excavation (a small silver pellet?!? WTF), that tiny little person laid his head on my heaving shoulder and without a single peep told me everything was going to be juuuuust fine. Today I found solace in the arms of an eleven month old kid. Sometimes the hard days are good too.
I nearly forgot, the above drawing is loosely based around the photo below.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Flash in the pan.
The cat is awake. I am awake (not because of the cat). Ice cold peppermint tea, long forgotten and suddenly remembered while sitting waist high in soft blankets at the work table. There is shit piled all around the green cutting mat. A tiger mask looking up at the ceiling, a paint covered Nalgene water bottle, a gifted clay mug from Aunty Daryl, a letter writing box, a haggard Lady Longbody. Today I threw a doll (Gemma) into the rug wash. Not a good idea. Shit. She came out all crazy, but soft. I have a lot of sewing to do.
Oh. Late nights on air. Late Nights on Air. Rebecca, you should read that book. I am up, thinking about train travel and travelling and travails and travailler. Reading on trains and eating raisins out of an open palm. An upcoming trip to Toronto is in the wings. A sibling trip of sorts, seeing as there hasn't been a single one since 2004. Last night Erin and I booked our separate ways to the meeting spot at the same time, long after bedtime, a span of provinces lying horizontally between us. A train ride is in order! I am looking forward to it already.
I came across a year of the Tiger mask today while on an adventure with JJ. We ate clementines in a weird park and cut through alleys to pinch out the cold. Dry pavement Sunday morning walking, after a Bob Dylan egg breakfast.
No work yesterday, for those curious. I did stand beside the kitchen's pass for a good hour, just watching and laughing at the two chefs on the line--main guy Benoit and his right hand toast bitch Simon--hoot and holler at each other as hollandaise was guided over the fresh poaches on toasted bisquits. Careful plating by Simon. I watched that straight cookin' (like straight shootin') and looked on as melted butter circled the hot pans for each order. Bacon, ham, sausage. Bleu, Swiss, Cheddar. I watched and longed for the long kitchen back at the Black Sheep. Madhavi's face as she sailed in and out of my view every few moments. Her laughter in the front of house blocking out the sobs coming from the grill. Those were good days then.
And more are coming. This kitchen that I stood near yesterday was also set up by a person who cooks. Often. It is small, but crazily functional. Everything in its place type place. It gave me a new understanding of how space can be so minimal, but also so highly utilized if well planned. Things were flying, fancy spent shell-work, dropped tongs flipped up like magic and whipped like a dart into their personal wash pit along the wall between Simon's plating/toast station and Benoit's grill/boil/bake station. A nice kitchen dance to watch, those to boys. The prep girl, also named Megan (whose job I am hoping to steal) was a bit of a drag. I could have shaken her for the indifference with which she peeled hot bacon from the pan. Agggh! No, she was nice. But damn! I would really have loved to get in there yesterday. Patience. Dirty rags and slopping bleach water. Subway tile in white behind a wall of ominous stainless steal kitchen appliances. Slim room, but smart. Who knows what will come about my little Go See, but it gave me hope in a way that I haven't felt in many moons.
Toast bitch would suit me fine.
Delish.
Oh. Late nights on air. Late Nights on Air. Rebecca, you should read that book. I am up, thinking about train travel and travelling and travails and travailler. Reading on trains and eating raisins out of an open palm. An upcoming trip to Toronto is in the wings. A sibling trip of sorts, seeing as there hasn't been a single one since 2004. Last night Erin and I booked our separate ways to the meeting spot at the same time, long after bedtime, a span of provinces lying horizontally between us. A train ride is in order! I am looking forward to it already.
I came across a year of the Tiger mask today while on an adventure with JJ. We ate clementines in a weird park and cut through alleys to pinch out the cold. Dry pavement Sunday morning walking, after a Bob Dylan egg breakfast.
No work yesterday, for those curious. I did stand beside the kitchen's pass for a good hour, just watching and laughing at the two chefs on the line--main guy Benoit and his right hand toast bitch Simon--hoot and holler at each other as hollandaise was guided over the fresh poaches on toasted bisquits. Careful plating by Simon. I watched that straight cookin' (like straight shootin') and looked on as melted butter circled the hot pans for each order. Bacon, ham, sausage. Bleu, Swiss, Cheddar. I watched and longed for the long kitchen back at the Black Sheep. Madhavi's face as she sailed in and out of my view every few moments. Her laughter in the front of house blocking out the sobs coming from the grill. Those were good days then.
And more are coming. This kitchen that I stood near yesterday was also set up by a person who cooks. Often. It is small, but crazily functional. Everything in its place type place. It gave me a new understanding of how space can be so minimal, but also so highly utilized if well planned. Things were flying, fancy spent shell-work, dropped tongs flipped up like magic and whipped like a dart into their personal wash pit along the wall between Simon's plating/toast station and Benoit's grill/boil/bake station. A nice kitchen dance to watch, those to boys. The prep girl, also named Megan (whose job I am hoping to steal) was a bit of a drag. I could have shaken her for the indifference with which she peeled hot bacon from the pan. Agggh! No, she was nice. But damn! I would really have loved to get in there yesterday. Patience. Dirty rags and slopping bleach water. Subway tile in white behind a wall of ominous stainless steal kitchen appliances. Slim room, but smart. Who knows what will come about my little Go See, but it gave me hope in a way that I haven't felt in many moons.
Toast bitch would suit me fine.
Delish.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Silverman Jones.
Where in the world is Silverman Jones? Chanel introduced me to this new character last night, Silverman Jones, an almost-but-not-quite intern at her fabric job. His real name is Sheldon Jones, but for some reason he sat through his entire application interview responding to Silverman Jones. Amazing. Silverman sounds far more interesting than Sheldon.
No snow, Montreal, Quebec, Canada! Woooh. This is no Buenos Aires, but I am praying the weather holds for a while before the snow rolls in. Today was ear bitingly cold (it feels strange knowing A. Marj no longer reads this) but clear as day. Brisk walking in the morning in my boots that an eagle helped me find (in true shopping angel spirit), a ridiculous grin at the Cheskies bakery counter just drunk off the smell of it all, one giant croissant still hot hot hot in my hands and eaten inside of EM Cafe next door.
EM Cafe. Dear Wind, innnnnteresting. This place that I have been eyeing up for weeks; makes me think of Liza every time I walk by the corner of Benard and Parc (every day with King Leo). Girl, I always expect to see you reading in the window. I went in today, had a cup of much needed coffee dark as night (last night with Lo and Chanel left me ink stained and laughing this morning) and was sealing a letter to Lisa when the kitchen caught my eye. I didn't think much more of it, other than it looked nice. A big square kitchen: stainless, white and wood. My kind of kitchen. On my way out, I asked the woman at the till when would be a good time to come back to speak with someone about the kitchen and she helped me out and gave me the name Anna Angelas. Good name. Good omen.
Ang, Angela, angels. EM, Em, M is for.
I went about my day, altered some clothes, went through my closet, culled and dead headed, made lunch, cleaned up, hung the fresh wash, pulled in the fresh wash, dressed the bed, and then it as time to drop off a resume. Back out into the cold in boots and flannel and my nearly forgotten white dress shirt from Club M (what??!! What a discovery today. Memo to self: shirts looked better pressed, but should not be forgotten when they are not). In the end, I ended up having an incredible nice exchange with Anna and am set to give my old kitchen hands a run for their money tomorrow during Saturday lunch rush. Wooooh! Holy shit, I can't believe it. A kitchen! A really nice kitchen that makes fancy breakfasts and waffles and rolls and hollandaise sauce and other things.
Patience is a virtue, Margot. I need to relax.
Today was the first day I really grieved for my mum's sister. My uncle's wife. Uncle Jim, so gentle and strong. My cousin's mom. Katie, Jen, Sara, Billy. For all those babies (born and unborn [Izzy, her sister and brother, Chili, Frances & Lily]) out there who will miss her touch more than we will ever know. She left a legacy to uphold. Babies, cooking, parenting, baking, work ethic, photography, gardening. There are one hundred things I will miss about her. She really was one of my mentors and today I sat a long time sitting in a chair in the comfortable space between sewing machine and work table, looking at my camera. That old lens. That was her camera. I can't remember ever getting a camera lesson that day when she handed over that heavy beast to me in front of her closet in their bedroom. She didn't seem like one to give lessons, she simply provided opportunity for the recipient to succeed (in whatever the context of her generosity). I want to be that kind of woman, auntie, mother, sister, daughter. Just give. She gave so much of herself to so many, so freely and without expectation of return.
I wish I had sent her a letter. Tears now. She told me at Thanksgiving that she "would just die if a Montreal leaf came in the mail" for her. An eagle with a leaf in its beak. Salt rivers on my face. I agreed with my own mum today when she mentioned she is having a difficult time realizing her sister isn't coming back. Fuck.
For now, all I feel capable of is staying close to home. A night out arm in arm with old friends was just what the doctor ordered. I have so much crying to do yet. Tomorrow I will chop or bus or prep as well as I can in a new kitchen. When the time is right I will pick up my camera again and remind myself to give more. And to relax. And to stop holding my breath.
Blast cry in a white dress shirt. Winter is coming. I bought some new Cat Power today, her covers album and found the song that I will walk down the aisle (aisle hey?) to. Oh bless you Cat Power. Wild is the Wind played so many times, I thought of Rebecca and Creme for different reasons but equal love and missing. Dear Wind, now alls I need is that baby blue Puch with the little headlamp and a beauty rat trap sitting in the window on St. Laurent. If only.
Image stolen sans grace from The Selby.
No snow, Montreal, Quebec, Canada! Woooh. This is no Buenos Aires, but I am praying the weather holds for a while before the snow rolls in. Today was ear bitingly cold (it feels strange knowing A. Marj no longer reads this) but clear as day. Brisk walking in the morning in my boots that an eagle helped me find (in true shopping angel spirit), a ridiculous grin at the Cheskies bakery counter just drunk off the smell of it all, one giant croissant still hot hot hot in my hands and eaten inside of EM Cafe next door.
EM Cafe. Dear Wind, innnnnteresting. This place that I have been eyeing up for weeks; makes me think of Liza every time I walk by the corner of Benard and Parc (every day with King Leo). Girl, I always expect to see you reading in the window. I went in today, had a cup of much needed coffee dark as night (last night with Lo and Chanel left me ink stained and laughing this morning) and was sealing a letter to Lisa when the kitchen caught my eye. I didn't think much more of it, other than it looked nice. A big square kitchen: stainless, white and wood. My kind of kitchen. On my way out, I asked the woman at the till when would be a good time to come back to speak with someone about the kitchen and she helped me out and gave me the name Anna Angelas. Good name. Good omen.
Ang, Angela, angels. EM, Em, M is for.
I went about my day, altered some clothes, went through my closet, culled and dead headed, made lunch, cleaned up, hung the fresh wash, pulled in the fresh wash, dressed the bed, and then it as time to drop off a resume. Back out into the cold in boots and flannel and my nearly forgotten white dress shirt from Club M (what??!! What a discovery today. Memo to self: shirts looked better pressed, but should not be forgotten when they are not). In the end, I ended up having an incredible nice exchange with Anna and am set to give my old kitchen hands a run for their money tomorrow during Saturday lunch rush. Wooooh! Holy shit, I can't believe it. A kitchen! A really nice kitchen that makes fancy breakfasts and waffles and rolls and hollandaise sauce and other things.
Patience is a virtue, Margot. I need to relax.
Today was the first day I really grieved for my mum's sister. My uncle's wife. Uncle Jim, so gentle and strong. My cousin's mom. Katie, Jen, Sara, Billy. For all those babies (born and unborn [Izzy, her sister and brother, Chili, Frances & Lily]) out there who will miss her touch more than we will ever know. She left a legacy to uphold. Babies, cooking, parenting, baking, work ethic, photography, gardening. There are one hundred things I will miss about her. She really was one of my mentors and today I sat a long time sitting in a chair in the comfortable space between sewing machine and work table, looking at my camera. That old lens. That was her camera. I can't remember ever getting a camera lesson that day when she handed over that heavy beast to me in front of her closet in their bedroom. She didn't seem like one to give lessons, she simply provided opportunity for the recipient to succeed (in whatever the context of her generosity). I want to be that kind of woman, auntie, mother, sister, daughter. Just give. She gave so much of herself to so many, so freely and without expectation of return.
I wish I had sent her a letter. Tears now. She told me at Thanksgiving that she "would just die if a Montreal leaf came in the mail" for her. An eagle with a leaf in its beak. Salt rivers on my face. I agreed with my own mum today when she mentioned she is having a difficult time realizing her sister isn't coming back. Fuck.
For now, all I feel capable of is staying close to home. A night out arm in arm with old friends was just what the doctor ordered. I have so much crying to do yet. Tomorrow I will chop or bus or prep as well as I can in a new kitchen. When the time is right I will pick up my camera again and remind myself to give more. And to relax. And to stop holding my breath.
Blast cry in a white dress shirt. Winter is coming. I bought some new Cat Power today, her covers album and found the song that I will walk down the aisle (aisle hey?) to. Oh bless you Cat Power. Wild is the Wind played so many times, I thought of Rebecca and Creme for different reasons but equal love and missing. Dear Wind, now alls I need is that baby blue Puch with the little headlamp and a beauty rat trap sitting in the window on St. Laurent. If only.
Image stolen sans grace from The Selby.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Faces many.
A letter came in the mail from China today. It was a nice reminder that if one desires a letter, one must send one to begin with. So I have to pick up my game a bit. The portfolio (no race yet, give me two months) is on my mind, churning around like sweet beurre in there. Leo also decided today that he is too many moons old to necessitate an afternoon nap. Gone are the days sadly. DAMN! I thought I could squeeze through the winter, basking in the quiet of the afternoon while the boy sleeps. Not so. Oh well, maybe this will be a good thing. Who knows what will come of it. More bonding? More activity? Lord only knows. Oh Leo.
Now it is nearly ten bells and long past the time I am usually sleeping these days. Tired and introverted to the max. Heather and Julian had their baby girl, Adelaide. Congratulations on the birth of. Home birth! Whoa, brave. She is such a beauty. Can't wait to undress her and take a million photos at Christmastime.
Now it is nearly ten bells and long past the time I am usually sleeping these days. Tired and introverted to the max. Heather and Julian had their baby girl, Adelaide. Congratulations on the birth of. Home birth! Whoa, brave. She is such a beauty. Can't wait to undress her and take a million photos at Christmastime.
BANANNIVERSARY.
One more for you girl because it's your and Wertootski's three year anniversary. Happy anniversary you two. I love you both dearly.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Ketchup and Mustard.
A new day. And such a beautiful one at that. Leo and I laughed together a lot and he stayed so close to me this morning and afternoon, both of us lingering in the solace of the other as his sleep schedule slipped through both our fingers like sand. Sometimes, you just have to linger. Being with Leo after nearly two weeks apart has been interesting. Softer in a way, and more trusting for both of us. We read the new books he got (a beautiful gift from my mum [you will be a wonderful grandma too, you already are]). One was called 'Heads' which was all about animals and textures with lots of sliding pulls and soft things to touch. We didn't even read it yet, he was too enraptured with the looking part. The second book, 'The Wide Mouth Frog' was about a wide mouthed frog who cruises through the jungle asking different animals and sea creatures around him what kind of things they like to eat. My kind of book. That one in particular was all papery flaps with both beautiful and smart folding techniques that made things like antelope and fish jump out a good six inches from the spine! Whoa, Leo was freaked. After freaked he switched to destructive. Okaay pal. It will be PERFECT when he is three or four.
We also walked today, a lot. His naps (well one was non existant) were clipped and there was a lot of active time today to say the least. In the morning we took a really long route to the Outremont Parc because there was tons of construction. The temperature was so nice today. Perfect jacket weather (I have been only wearing Jillian's short jean jacket with Mitch's red flannel and Erin's mustard scarf lately. Ketchup and mustard. Two things of which are not in my fridge temporarily). Lots of birds out (my version of an eagle) which is a special thing considering it is mid November. So it was a pretty special day.
Leo and I came up with this new game today that made him LAUGH. Whoa, really laugh. It was wonderful. I have been waiting 3 months for this guy to laugh like he did! Although he isn't walking quite yet (soon), he is a master at standing tall by tables and chairs and tall toys and couches and other things that he can pull himself up on. And he has this little blue cart--well more like a low tray on wheels--that has a little push handle like one would find on a push mower. Trust Ikea sometimes. I can't believe how he runs with it but doesn't know how to turn it or steer it whatsoever. The game today involved Leo pushing the little cart through the triangle of my legs, running on bowlegs in a straight line. He was laughing hysterically when his mama walked in the door.
Laughter and Grandma books? Oh yeah.
Now Lila is weaving through the chair legs toward the closet. Before settling into her favorite spot on a sleeping bag and a yoga mat under a thick clump of silk dresses and one loooong dress, she has come over to my spot and finally, finally lept into my lap. A cat on my lap. Lila the black faced cat.
Oh Auntie Marj, I will miss sitting at your easter tables. The eggs in the wooden bowl. In my humble books, no one prepares creamed baby potatoes with fresh dill quite like her.
Le sigh. On the bright side, pancakes for dinner with my darling. Yes!
We also walked today, a lot. His naps (well one was non existant) were clipped and there was a lot of active time today to say the least. In the morning we took a really long route to the Outremont Parc because there was tons of construction. The temperature was so nice today. Perfect jacket weather (I have been only wearing Jillian's short jean jacket with Mitch's red flannel and Erin's mustard scarf lately. Ketchup and mustard. Two things of which are not in my fridge temporarily). Lots of birds out (my version of an eagle) which is a special thing considering it is mid November. So it was a pretty special day.
Leo and I came up with this new game today that made him LAUGH. Whoa, really laugh. It was wonderful. I have been waiting 3 months for this guy to laugh like he did! Although he isn't walking quite yet (soon), he is a master at standing tall by tables and chairs and tall toys and couches and other things that he can pull himself up on. And he has this little blue cart--well more like a low tray on wheels--that has a little push handle like one would find on a push mower. Trust Ikea sometimes. I can't believe how he runs with it but doesn't know how to turn it or steer it whatsoever. The game today involved Leo pushing the little cart through the triangle of my legs, running on bowlegs in a straight line. He was laughing hysterically when his mama walked in the door.
Laughter and Grandma books? Oh yeah.
Now Lila is weaving through the chair legs toward the closet. Before settling into her favorite spot on a sleeping bag and a yoga mat under a thick clump of silk dresses and one loooong dress, she has come over to my spot and finally, finally lept into my lap. A cat on my lap. Lila the black faced cat.
Oh Auntie Marj, I will miss sitting at your easter tables. The eggs in the wooden bowl. In my humble books, no one prepares creamed baby potatoes with fresh dill quite like her.
Le sigh. On the bright side, pancakes for dinner with my darling. Yes!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Auntie Marj.
My mind is a carousel of Auntie Marj. I can see her so clearly and hear her laugh and her voice calling out "hi sweetheart" over our heads as we piled into her entrance a million times, just as she has to so many before me. I don't have enough words. She is soaring now, free as a bird. Auntie Marj, I will write more, but for now I love you and miss you.
We lost an incredible woman on Tuesday, November 9th, 2010. This is the last photo I took of her (far left) at Thanksgiving, standing outside with my Grandma, my ma, and her girls Sara and Jen.
Marjorie Anne Heinrichs
March 2, 1956 - November 9, 2010
We lost an incredible woman on Tuesday, November 9th, 2010. This is the last photo I took of her (far left) at Thanksgiving, standing outside with my Grandma, my ma, and her girls Sara and Jen.
Marjorie Anne Heinrichs
March 2, 1956 - November 9, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Petit Poulet.
Or en anglais, Little Chicken.
I miss my Petit Poulet, Leo today. He is hanging out in Europe with his parents at the moment and I just miss him. But his absence resulted in an entire week off for this gal and that sure feels nice. Here are some recent photos of my friend Leonard, the little Polish elf. And what a luxury to write in any place of my choosing in the home, drink coffee (thanks A. Karen) and look at my new cat Lila chilling out in the window sill by the sewing machine. Simple delights.
I miss my Petit Poulet, Leo today. He is hanging out in Europe with his parents at the moment and I just miss him. But his absence resulted in an entire week off for this gal and that sure feels nice. Here are some recent photos of my friend Leonard, the little Polish elf. And what a luxury to write in any place of my choosing in the home, drink coffee (thanks A. Karen) and look at my new cat Lila chilling out in the window sill by the sewing machine. Simple delights.
Monday, November 8, 2010
All is full of love.
Turned around in the art room. I have been listening to some Björk today and I cannot stop picturing her as Selma in Dancer in the Dark. Oh that film! Whoa. Crazytown. Anyway, seeing it opened my eyes to a talent I had never heard before. What lungs in that little body. All is full of love, a song by the little woman herself, is quite something. So this post title seems appropriate today, considering a few things and the state of myself.
I got a letter today from the Hector House and my heart swelled. Bang Bang. Crash, crash!
It has been so nice having my parents here. They are wining and dining us like ducks for dinner. And that is amazing! My heart is really overflowing and it feels wonderful. It was so nice walking my with my mum in the rain today ducking into shops when the spirit led. She found so many beautiful pieces and again I was reminded of what style is. We learned it from her. She likes bold things also, and wears them really well. And today my mum turned 50. Good job, woman! You go!
Speaking of the birthday woman, last night she cooked JJ and I one hundred cottage cheese menno perogies with schmont and farmer sausage and it really was insane. JJ was wearing this incredible dress. My mom was laughing, my dad topping up glasses with such grace. What a dinner! Mise en place. Mercy buckets, as they say. One million mercy buckets. I am already sad to see you go. I like walking in front of you guys and looking over my shoulder to check if you were actually there! Holy cow, thanksgiving feels like one hundred years ago! That means Christmas is on it's way in like a dog from the rain through the flap in the door.
I also rode my bike downtown!!! Whooooooo baby J Alba! Cruisy baby. I wore my helmet and a tight toque and a fast planting get up with slim shoes (I would LOVE cycling shoes and clips) and zoomed with the wind down the side of a mountain. It as pretty fun, even knowing full well what that would mean going back. Photos were dropped off at the weird jumbotron mall on St. Catherine street and a cd filled with fresh ones picked up. It felt really nice to walk outside and see my girl locked up, long and lean. I haven't been cycling at all. I wasn't ready to in a way. But today felt really natural. Party!
Late fall. Things are wet and dark, but nice. Mitch and I picked up our little house panther today at L'Arterie. Zoi with an i (the initial sight of her flooded the rooms in my heart: Madhavi! This is your soul woman, you have to meet her. And vise versa), had the papers ready to sign and the little minx slipped right into her stray cat house without a peep. In all the excitement of exchange, I forgot the bag of stuff for start up and so Mitch carried on and I ran back for one more exchange with Zoi (hopefully not the last). What a woman, whoa. I walked homewards thinking of her in the box wrapped inside Mitch's arms and the huge Amish scarf from Josh Ruth's mother in Ohio. What rain, what? We set her up and she slithered out after a good amount of hesitancy.
She checked out the kitchen and went straight for the Art room and hung out in the window for a while checking the brick and city top. We left her to sniff it out and met my parents (and hopped in their cab!) at a delicious family run Italian restaurant in Little Italy called Pizzeria Napoletana. (Thanks for the recommendation Uncle Pete. You nailed it) Pizza and pasta. Apportez votre vin. Cal brought such nice vin and the restaurant had that exciting warm vibe coursing through it. Thick Italian men winking at the customers, pasta, gnocci, blue cheese, buffalo mozzarella, thin crusts and triple helpings. Fifty and fabulous tastes delicious! Thanks for the amazing meal. I haven't felt like I was in Italy since I was in Italy! Well done, Montreal. Then we got into a cab on the way home, laughing and already missing each other, we walked into our home with a cat. Right where we left her.
Lila? I think she could be a Lila. She is so mysterious. Eventually she made her way to the bed with a certain quietness about her and then hopped on up into the piles of soft with out question. Oh hey girl, there you are. She has a nice home I think. I think she will be happy here.
Here are some photos from the neighborhood. Does anyone recognize these types of flowers? Aunty Karen, I am banking on you! They are beautifully resiliant and age so well. This photo was taken in the middle of October (keeping in mind it has been cold). Mauve is all around us, surprisingly so. I love fall. Speaking of mauve, I found another wedding dress today. Oh dear. Good thing it was cash only because I didn't have the cash. But it was quite a dress, tucked away in the back of this red vaudevilleish vintage clothing shop. At first when I sped past it in the rain it looked like a costume shop. Not so. I tried on the best hat, this incredible hat. Fifty dollars for the perfect hat! Oh dear. Then I saw the pink dress, hanging in heavy layers from high above. Antique silk, beads and sequins, flapper, drop waist and heavy. I wanted to try it on but didn't since I knew I wouldn't be taking it home. But it was quite something. I am still thinking about it. So mauve's the word, I guess.
I got a letter today from the Hector House and my heart swelled. Bang Bang. Crash, crash!
It has been so nice having my parents here. They are wining and dining us like ducks for dinner. And that is amazing! My heart is really overflowing and it feels wonderful. It was so nice walking my with my mum in the rain today ducking into shops when the spirit led. She found so many beautiful pieces and again I was reminded of what style is. We learned it from her. She likes bold things also, and wears them really well. And today my mum turned 50. Good job, woman! You go!
Speaking of the birthday woman, last night she cooked JJ and I one hundred cottage cheese menno perogies with schmont and farmer sausage and it really was insane. JJ was wearing this incredible dress. My mom was laughing, my dad topping up glasses with such grace. What a dinner! Mise en place. Mercy buckets, as they say. One million mercy buckets. I am already sad to see you go. I like walking in front of you guys and looking over my shoulder to check if you were actually there! Holy cow, thanksgiving feels like one hundred years ago! That means Christmas is on it's way in like a dog from the rain through the flap in the door.
I also rode my bike downtown!!! Whooooooo baby J Alba! Cruisy baby. I wore my helmet and a tight toque and a fast planting get up with slim shoes (I would LOVE cycling shoes and clips) and zoomed with the wind down the side of a mountain. It as pretty fun, even knowing full well what that would mean going back. Photos were dropped off at the weird jumbotron mall on St. Catherine street and a cd filled with fresh ones picked up. It felt really nice to walk outside and see my girl locked up, long and lean. I haven't been cycling at all. I wasn't ready to in a way. But today felt really natural. Party!
Late fall. Things are wet and dark, but nice. Mitch and I picked up our little house panther today at L'Arterie. Zoi with an i (the initial sight of her flooded the rooms in my heart: Madhavi! This is your soul woman, you have to meet her. And vise versa), had the papers ready to sign and the little minx slipped right into her stray cat house without a peep. In all the excitement of exchange, I forgot the bag of stuff for start up and so Mitch carried on and I ran back for one more exchange with Zoi (hopefully not the last). What a woman, whoa. I walked homewards thinking of her in the box wrapped inside Mitch's arms and the huge Amish scarf from Josh Ruth's mother in Ohio. What rain, what? We set her up and she slithered out after a good amount of hesitancy.
She checked out the kitchen and went straight for the Art room and hung out in the window for a while checking the brick and city top. We left her to sniff it out and met my parents (and hopped in their cab!) at a delicious family run Italian restaurant in Little Italy called Pizzeria Napoletana. (Thanks for the recommendation Uncle Pete. You nailed it) Pizza and pasta. Apportez votre vin. Cal brought such nice vin and the restaurant had that exciting warm vibe coursing through it. Thick Italian men winking at the customers, pasta, gnocci, blue cheese, buffalo mozzarella, thin crusts and triple helpings. Fifty and fabulous tastes delicious! Thanks for the amazing meal. I haven't felt like I was in Italy since I was in Italy! Well done, Montreal. Then we got into a cab on the way home, laughing and already missing each other, we walked into our home with a cat. Right where we left her.
Lila? I think she could be a Lila. She is so mysterious. Eventually she made her way to the bed with a certain quietness about her and then hopped on up into the piles of soft with out question. Oh hey girl, there you are. She has a nice home I think. I think she will be happy here.
Here are some photos from the neighborhood. Does anyone recognize these types of flowers? Aunty Karen, I am banking on you! They are beautifully resiliant and age so well. This photo was taken in the middle of October (keeping in mind it has been cold). Mauve is all around us, surprisingly so. I love fall. Speaking of mauve, I found another wedding dress today. Oh dear. Good thing it was cash only because I didn't have the cash. But it was quite a dress, tucked away in the back of this red vaudevilleish vintage clothing shop. At first when I sped past it in the rain it looked like a costume shop. Not so. I tried on the best hat, this incredible hat. Fifty dollars for the perfect hat! Oh dear. Then I saw the pink dress, hanging in heavy layers from high above. Antique silk, beads and sequins, flapper, drop waist and heavy. I wanted to try it on but didn't since I knew I wouldn't be taking it home. But it was quite something. I am still thinking about it. So mauve's the word, I guess.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Pettibon.
Petite bon. Pretty bon. Small good. Pretty good.
And then came Leni--at least that is what I am calling her--the cat with one hundred names. Mitch calls her Pettibon (which is good too). I saw her a few weeks ago lounging atop a mountain of old red luggage in the window display of this pretty vintage shop in my neighborhood. I was out with Leo at the time and we stopped dead when I saw her staring back at me. This shop is run by a kind woman with kind friends. They all have kind eyes and they all foster cats (because there are a million on the loose in this town). It is nice to know a lot of these creatures have warm homes and full bellies because people open their personal homes and shops. I like the concept. This little thing is called Katie at the moment, but it really isn't her. She looks tough, even though she is small and long. She has medium length hair in dark dark grey with a light grey bit that hides underneath like a mystery. Mitch and I walked to Bernard Street to pay her and Dadette (the foster mama) a visit in and amongst the million wool sweaters and long skirts and hats. She liked us and we were approved.
We might have a cat soon! I am excited; this self proclaimed despiser of felines. I am very excited to watch her slink around the growing mountain of long bodies, half stuffed limbs and thread for miles. She'll like it here I think.
And then came Leni--at least that is what I am calling her--the cat with one hundred names. Mitch calls her Pettibon (which is good too). I saw her a few weeks ago lounging atop a mountain of old red luggage in the window display of this pretty vintage shop in my neighborhood. I was out with Leo at the time and we stopped dead when I saw her staring back at me. This shop is run by a kind woman with kind friends. They all have kind eyes and they all foster cats (because there are a million on the loose in this town). It is nice to know a lot of these creatures have warm homes and full bellies because people open their personal homes and shops. I like the concept. This little thing is called Katie at the moment, but it really isn't her. She looks tough, even though she is small and long. She has medium length hair in dark dark grey with a light grey bit that hides underneath like a mystery. Mitch and I walked to Bernard Street to pay her and Dadette (the foster mama) a visit in and amongst the million wool sweaters and long skirts and hats. She liked us and we were approved.
We might have a cat soon! I am excited; this self proclaimed despiser of felines. I am very excited to watch her slink around the growing mountain of long bodies, half stuffed limbs and thread for miles. She'll like it here I think.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Margot Polo Presents.
One paw in a bag of my grandmother's cookies (oatmeal raisin) and another resting against a freshly sewn leg lying on top of its partner's busted knee. While the Doll Factory is not quite ready for business, it is open at last. Today the doors swung wide at the sight of a pretty Singer sitting in a row of ladies. It was the first machine that called me.
Singer Stylist 522.
The machine itself is my favorite color (winter white) and it sounds very nice when in operation. It was sold with a beautiful little sewing table complete with a wooden top that parts like a hairline with arms that swing on hinges when opened. It has a little angled drawer for bobbins and pin cushions and tapes and little things like that. It is very beautiful on it's bowed legs (like a Great Dane named Lee Ronaldo) with the quiet bevels. At the time, I was traipsing up St. Laurent with my parents after a heavy smoked meat, dill pickle, spicy pepper, mustard, fried chips meal when we passed the sewing shop that I have been prowling restlessly and pennilessly for weeks now. I am sure the employees took me for a shoplifter up until today.
Christmas come early to Montreal. Thanks ma and pa, this is really the best gift I have ever received.
I just made a Lady Long Bod for the first time in a long time. I have some serious troubleshooting to do, some extensive research and a whole lot more experimentation in the cards before these things are ready. But I am on my way! Ohhhhhhh, stuffing a tiny leg never felt so good.
Coming soon to all, an Etsy store called Margot Polo Presents consisting of a line of dolls: Lady Long Bodies with their long limbs and soft hearts, and Lucy Goosies, pretty fowl friends; prints, paintings and books. Time to get serious. Mom and Dad, thanks a million. Everyone, feel free to place your bets and your orders (soon). Also, let it be known that I laughed aloud at myself this evening when I realized (after far too much work) that it is nearly impossible to turn an inside out doughnut inside right. Learning curve. I have a healthy bit to learn.
One more also, it feels wonderful to share my new city with my parents. Today we cruised St. Laurent, ate some Schwartz's, walked around, did some shopping for babies, home, shoulders, feet, living rooms and our tables. I almost forgot how fun it is to shop with my ma.
Party time. Speaking of time, it is time to hit the hay. The photo below inspires me in lots of ways (and to open the windows more).
Singer Stylist 522.
The machine itself is my favorite color (winter white) and it sounds very nice when in operation. It was sold with a beautiful little sewing table complete with a wooden top that parts like a hairline with arms that swing on hinges when opened. It has a little angled drawer for bobbins and pin cushions and tapes and little things like that. It is very beautiful on it's bowed legs (like a Great Dane named Lee Ronaldo) with the quiet bevels. At the time, I was traipsing up St. Laurent with my parents after a heavy smoked meat, dill pickle, spicy pepper, mustard, fried chips meal when we passed the sewing shop that I have been prowling restlessly and pennilessly for weeks now. I am sure the employees took me for a shoplifter up until today.
Christmas come early to Montreal. Thanks ma and pa, this is really the best gift I have ever received.
I just made a Lady Long Bod for the first time in a long time. I have some serious troubleshooting to do, some extensive research and a whole lot more experimentation in the cards before these things are ready. But I am on my way! Ohhhhhhh, stuffing a tiny leg never felt so good.
Coming soon to all, an Etsy store called Margot Polo Presents consisting of a line of dolls: Lady Long Bodies with their long limbs and soft hearts, and Lucy Goosies, pretty fowl friends; prints, paintings and books. Time to get serious. Mom and Dad, thanks a million. Everyone, feel free to place your bets and your orders (soon). Also, let it be known that I laughed aloud at myself this evening when I realized (after far too much work) that it is nearly impossible to turn an inside out doughnut inside right. Learning curve. I have a healthy bit to learn.
One more also, it feels wonderful to share my new city with my parents. Today we cruised St. Laurent, ate some Schwartz's, walked around, did some shopping for babies, home, shoulders, feet, living rooms and our tables. I almost forgot how fun it is to shop with my ma.
Party time. Speaking of time, it is time to hit the hay. The photo below inspires me in lots of ways (and to open the windows more).
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Peter and Margot.
A man walks into the room with a haircut. Nice haircut. Thanks. The light is low and round, hanging from a silk scarfed pendant. The light blinks through the horses in the print. The dancing makes her think of a certain unborn child, busy and content just growing in there; all tucked in. The man brings her back as he moves in beside her. Hello. Hello. I like what you did with the lamp. The soft light on the haircut. I like what you did with the hair. Thanks. Me too. Good.
We're back.
It feels good to be at home today. Tucked in. Tucked in. Tucked in. There is something about this colorful weather (a new type that is easier to describe by color and feel than anything else) that pleases me. It feels nice to be in that smooth shift again, I am swiveling back into an old self, a comfortable and relaxed version of myself. It feels like putting on a great coat. There is nothing better than a great coat, no matter what the style.
I had an old yellow slicker on my hands last year in the early fall after the first season of planting. I think it was Zach's, I am not sure, but now it is gone. I had been living at Mel and Zach's beautiful home with the red kitchen at the time and for some reason, I wore that yellow rubber coat with the yellow corduroy cuffs and collar perfect for cold snot wiping everyday. It felt so good to put on, the rubber lying on top of layers and layers of soft wool. Oh yeah, I really like the cold (even though I complain and winge) deep down.
Fall is an exciting time for fashion.
New paragraph. That statement stands alone. My wardrobe is droopy. I seem to have jumped off a ship and lost a tonne of my baggage because my closet is sliiiiiiiim pickin's. Cheers to losing baggage. Wash your hands of it. (I am learning this as if new everyday). Anyway, I like wearing strong things, I trust myself, if anything else, and I trust myself in those clothes. I have this one jacket. Long and loose with the tightest woven thread that make up this wild floral pattern against the prettiest blue backdrop. It really is a gorgeous coat (too cold to wear it now), and I always feel great in that jacket. It also took two attempts to purchase. I initially saw it as a set at Ragpickers somewhere in the Housecoat section (housecoats make the best jackets and the selection is always amazing). It called me.
Coat and dress. Sixties. 41 dollars. Okay, the matching dress was totally insane and I knew how it would hang on my girls. I didn't need the dress. I needed the jacket. So I took it off it's partner and brought it to the front. I was stoned and charming and asked if I could buy it as a separate. She was a young turd with a bubblegum mouth and said no. Shoot that mouth right off. Okay. I stormed home across the street from Ragpickers when I had the privilege to live in the Exchange for a cool minute and so on. A few weeks later, I went back and a different woman was working. I like her, whoever she is. I usually hit up Ragpickers when I am feeling droopy--hats and the little gloves--and she is usually the one to ring me up. The last thing I bought from her (I imagine her name is Jenn, double N Jenn, she has a look) was the headpiece I will wear on my wedding day. Anyway, I brought the coat over and asked again and she not only said of course, she also let me name my price. Which was genius. That coat was worth three hundred dollars to me. I paid twenty because that is all I had in my wallet. No tax, fuck yah. She is cool. That is what cool is. She even made me wear it home.
Alright, my parents are flying towards me right now. I am going to run to catch the metro at Place Des Art so I can meet them. Shoot. Gotta run. Fast!
Mergs.
Post script in italics for feeling. Dear Rags, after reading one letter from you and writing back, I walked home through the rain thinking of you in the grey room. Grey day. Then I unlocked my mailbox and there was another letter with a stencil of my address (stencils are the best). Holy cow, what a great day. Merci one million.
We're back.
It feels good to be at home today. Tucked in. Tucked in. Tucked in. There is something about this colorful weather (a new type that is easier to describe by color and feel than anything else) that pleases me. It feels nice to be in that smooth shift again, I am swiveling back into an old self, a comfortable and relaxed version of myself. It feels like putting on a great coat. There is nothing better than a great coat, no matter what the style.
I had an old yellow slicker on my hands last year in the early fall after the first season of planting. I think it was Zach's, I am not sure, but now it is gone. I had been living at Mel and Zach's beautiful home with the red kitchen at the time and for some reason, I wore that yellow rubber coat with the yellow corduroy cuffs and collar perfect for cold snot wiping everyday. It felt so good to put on, the rubber lying on top of layers and layers of soft wool. Oh yeah, I really like the cold (even though I complain and winge) deep down.
Fall is an exciting time for fashion.
New paragraph. That statement stands alone. My wardrobe is droopy. I seem to have jumped off a ship and lost a tonne of my baggage because my closet is sliiiiiiiim pickin's. Cheers to losing baggage. Wash your hands of it. (I am learning this as if new everyday). Anyway, I like wearing strong things, I trust myself, if anything else, and I trust myself in those clothes. I have this one jacket. Long and loose with the tightest woven thread that make up this wild floral pattern against the prettiest blue backdrop. It really is a gorgeous coat (too cold to wear it now), and I always feel great in that jacket. It also took two attempts to purchase. I initially saw it as a set at Ragpickers somewhere in the Housecoat section (housecoats make the best jackets and the selection is always amazing). It called me.
Coat and dress. Sixties. 41 dollars. Okay, the matching dress was totally insane and I knew how it would hang on my girls. I didn't need the dress. I needed the jacket. So I took it off it's partner and brought it to the front. I was stoned and charming and asked if I could buy it as a separate. She was a young turd with a bubblegum mouth and said no. Shoot that mouth right off. Okay. I stormed home across the street from Ragpickers when I had the privilege to live in the Exchange for a cool minute and so on. A few weeks later, I went back and a different woman was working. I like her, whoever she is. I usually hit up Ragpickers when I am feeling droopy--hats and the little gloves--and she is usually the one to ring me up. The last thing I bought from her (I imagine her name is Jenn, double N Jenn, she has a look) was the headpiece I will wear on my wedding day. Anyway, I brought the coat over and asked again and she not only said of course, she also let me name my price. Which was genius. That coat was worth three hundred dollars to me. I paid twenty because that is all I had in my wallet. No tax, fuck yah. She is cool. That is what cool is. She even made me wear it home.
Alright, my parents are flying towards me right now. I am going to run to catch the metro at Place Des Art so I can meet them. Shoot. Gotta run. Fast!
Mergs.
Post script in italics for feeling. Dear Rags, after reading one letter from you and writing back, I walked home through the rain thinking of you in the grey room. Grey day. Then I unlocked my mailbox and there was another letter with a stencil of my address (stencils are the best). Holy cow, what a great day. Merci one million.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Bread basket for one.
Bread day today. Three pieces of toast (peanut butter and butter and peanut butter and honey) in the morning and two bagels for lunch. Giles swung by Leo's house after he finished his lunch (yogurt cheeks with pea hair and a veal beard again) and after bundling the boychild we walked over to Club Social and got coffees in tall skinny glasses and sat outside with our faces craned towards the sun. Sweet fall warmth.
Leo sat quietly, preoccupied with a myriad of strange contents from within the bowels of my Milk bag. What a kid. When the sun tucked in just enough to feel cold again, we left our empty glasses behind in search of a spot bathed in direct sunlight. Yesterday we sat in a park on Prince-Arthur sandwiched between St. Laurent and St. Denis eating (my very first) Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches in the sun. Delicious, delicious, delicious. Today we sat eating hot sesame bagels from Fairmount Bagels talking about life. At one point, this soft beauty turned to me in all her silk and said, "you live here".
I know. YuhdunnevenKNA. I know. It is a pretty nice place to live, especially when I get to chow down on a hot bagel with a loved one. First came Mitch's mama, then Mike, and then Sula and Rags, and now Jillian. We have been blessed with a stream of great company thus far. This time spent with her has been so good, so fulfilling, reassuring, adventurous, hysterical. The list is forever long. It felt so good to go into a shop with one of my best girls today, stroller et al and try on the best damn pair of jeans I have ever seen. The search for my right pair is OVER! Hallelujah. I saw them and I just knew. Black, leather, chain. Woooooh hoo hoo baby. Super sass to the max. Speaking of which, R Rouge and I dolled up after a quick sprint around the neighborhood last night for the opening of our pal Nick's photo exhibit. It was beautiful--his work so soft and so technical. Clinical almost, in the clean sense of art. It was an interesting mix of people at the opening and Jill and I met some wonderful people to share a round of beers with after the show. It felt nice to leave the house in a long striped dress with smart shoes and a sleek 'do.
Leo is sleeping bum up, face down. I just made sure he was breathing. He is.
Hot sugar tea with milk, perfect beverage for the weather today. Montreal has been wonderfully bright and crisp as the last of the leaves cling and finally shake loose giving way for the winter. I am excited for a new look. New jeans, new look, new routine, new town, new friend, new outlook. My parents are coming tomorrow! La la la, I am so giddy just thinking of all of the things we will eat! Coffees and jewish patries (the petit pain au chocolat are pleasurable), smoked meat sandwiches, oysters, bagels by the half dozen, cheese, bread, breakfast, Mitch's famous pasta on Friday night! We might even visit Quebec City.
Good space Margot today. This is a photo taken inside of the children's big top at the Winnipeg Folk Festival. I love capturing dads and their babies.
Leo sat quietly, preoccupied with a myriad of strange contents from within the bowels of my Milk bag. What a kid. When the sun tucked in just enough to feel cold again, we left our empty glasses behind in search of a spot bathed in direct sunlight. Yesterday we sat in a park on Prince-Arthur sandwiched between St. Laurent and St. Denis eating (my very first) Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches in the sun. Delicious, delicious, delicious. Today we sat eating hot sesame bagels from Fairmount Bagels talking about life. At one point, this soft beauty turned to me in all her silk and said, "you live here".
I know. YuhdunnevenKNA. I know. It is a pretty nice place to live, especially when I get to chow down on a hot bagel with a loved one. First came Mitch's mama, then Mike, and then Sula and Rags, and now Jillian. We have been blessed with a stream of great company thus far. This time spent with her has been so good, so fulfilling, reassuring, adventurous, hysterical. The list is forever long. It felt so good to go into a shop with one of my best girls today, stroller et al and try on the best damn pair of jeans I have ever seen. The search for my right pair is OVER! Hallelujah. I saw them and I just knew. Black, leather, chain. Woooooh hoo hoo baby. Super sass to the max. Speaking of which, R Rouge and I dolled up after a quick sprint around the neighborhood last night for the opening of our pal Nick's photo exhibit. It was beautiful--his work so soft and so technical. Clinical almost, in the clean sense of art. It was an interesting mix of people at the opening and Jill and I met some wonderful people to share a round of beers with after the show. It felt nice to leave the house in a long striped dress with smart shoes and a sleek 'do.
Leo is sleeping bum up, face down. I just made sure he was breathing. He is.
Hot sugar tea with milk, perfect beverage for the weather today. Montreal has been wonderfully bright and crisp as the last of the leaves cling and finally shake loose giving way for the winter. I am excited for a new look. New jeans, new look, new routine, new town, new friend, new outlook. My parents are coming tomorrow! La la la, I am so giddy just thinking of all of the things we will eat! Coffees and jewish patries (the petit pain au chocolat are pleasurable), smoked meat sandwiches, oysters, bagels by the half dozen, cheese, bread, breakfast, Mitch's famous pasta on Friday night! We might even visit Quebec City.
Good space Margot today. This is a photo taken inside of the children's big top at the Winnipeg Folk Festival. I love capturing dads and their babies.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Closed for good.
The old Face is dead and gone.
Facebook that is. Yesterday, after an enlightening three piece conversation with Mitch and Giles, I decided to turn off, close shop, check out, shut 'er down, and delete my account for good. What change can occur with a simple little shift in mentality. I have been looking to make a healthy change in my life for a few months now and this seems to be a good start. I am tired of hanging on (to what good?) and scouring pages for tidbits and pretty photos (I can go to the library). I am tired of publicizing and being publicized. Tired of eating up unnecessary and overshared information (for what good?).
The idea of social networking via the internet as a whole is quite a strange concept and the more thought invested into this subject specifically, the less interested I become.
I will miss seeing the baby photos though. Weird, I know, but I will. I trust Tiny Moms and Lisa will email the best ones (of babes Chili and Ribbons) to old Aunty Meg's uncool hotmail account. Thanks guys.
I much prefer the post. Nothing beats coming home to a tangible letter. Yesterday I received a great one from MJ (who recently told me she decided to challenge herself to writing actual letters to people she cares about for the first time in her life). Similar to MJ, I am hoping this decision will be a good personal challenge and am quite curious to see what comes to fruition in the spaces of time that I normally spend perched in front of a screen cruising through party pics (well, you know). I don't live in Winnipeg anymore, time to face the facts. I live in Montreal; time to step outside and meet some people.
Short sentences today. I don't have much to say on the subject now that it is finished. Let it be known that I will continue to write letters and emails as I used to (maybe even more so now that I won't be logging into the Face four to ten million times per day), I will continue to upload photos a la my Flickr account, and I will continue to maintain this very post (come to think of it, it is nearly time for a new one altogether) as it has been and continues to be a great writing outlet and exercise for my brain.
Also, Giles has landed. Last night we went for a very long metropolitan adventure run in our matching Running Room gear, winding through the core of Montreal's downtown. We ended up at a tiny joint tucked behind Concordia where we stuffed our faces with Zatar, pizza and diet pepsi for old time's sake. I missed her so. It is amazing how such a highly anticipated visit of pure quality and comfort like this one can feel so normal while it unfolds before us. It felt so normal to run beside her, darting crazy angles through throngs of people just to chase all the green lights. It felt real good.
I feel better already. Thanks for reading.
Megs
Facebook that is. Yesterday, after an enlightening three piece conversation with Mitch and Giles, I decided to turn off, close shop, check out, shut 'er down, and delete my account for good. What change can occur with a simple little shift in mentality. I have been looking to make a healthy change in my life for a few months now and this seems to be a good start. I am tired of hanging on (to what good?) and scouring pages for tidbits and pretty photos (I can go to the library). I am tired of publicizing and being publicized. Tired of eating up unnecessary and overshared information (for what good?).
The idea of social networking via the internet as a whole is quite a strange concept and the more thought invested into this subject specifically, the less interested I become.
I will miss seeing the baby photos though. Weird, I know, but I will. I trust Tiny Moms and Lisa will email the best ones (of babes Chili and Ribbons) to old Aunty Meg's uncool hotmail account. Thanks guys.
I much prefer the post. Nothing beats coming home to a tangible letter. Yesterday I received a great one from MJ (who recently told me she decided to challenge herself to writing actual letters to people she cares about for the first time in her life). Similar to MJ, I am hoping this decision will be a good personal challenge and am quite curious to see what comes to fruition in the spaces of time that I normally spend perched in front of a screen cruising through party pics (well, you know). I don't live in Winnipeg anymore, time to face the facts. I live in Montreal; time to step outside and meet some people.
Short sentences today. I don't have much to say on the subject now that it is finished. Let it be known that I will continue to write letters and emails as I used to (maybe even more so now that I won't be logging into the Face four to ten million times per day), I will continue to upload photos a la my Flickr account, and I will continue to maintain this very post (come to think of it, it is nearly time for a new one altogether) as it has been and continues to be a great writing outlet and exercise for my brain.
Also, Giles has landed. Last night we went for a very long metropolitan adventure run in our matching Running Room gear, winding through the core of Montreal's downtown. We ended up at a tiny joint tucked behind Concordia where we stuffed our faces with Zatar, pizza and diet pepsi for old time's sake. I missed her so. It is amazing how such a highly anticipated visit of pure quality and comfort like this one can feel so normal while it unfolds before us. It felt so normal to run beside her, darting crazy angles through throngs of people just to chase all the green lights. It felt real good.
I feel better already. Thanks for reading.
Megs
Monday, November 1, 2010
Fruit basket upset.
Some large portraits and the like. Big ups to Danika for the photo know-how, I was a lost lamb until she came along. Mercy. Merci!
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