Exposure

So yeah, I hop in the car with Amber and the wee 'un and we take off for Metro-hell. There was little choice - we had urgent shopping to do and a mall was the best choice. SO we get there, we spend, we look, try on. The kid begins to fuss. I realize I'm hungry, and begin to relate to the child's crankiness. Time to eat.

Food fairs are really depressing places, no? Worn out retail employees woefully eating what barely passes for food, the light of their eyes dulled by fluorescent light and bleak pay cheques. Ick. I wolf down a Taco Time something wrapped in a stale tortilla that I mask with a sludge of hot sauce. Down with root beer. Done. The mother and child eat Greek. We are fed.

I lift the child out of his highchair, plop him in his stroller and push toward Starbucks for an afternoon zinga zinga ahhhh. We round the corner and my shirt catches on the metallic ledge of the escalator railing.

Allow me to digress for a moment to explain what a surplice neckline is. The front of the shirt crosses over at the bottom half of the breast, wrapping the chest, so to speak, in a criss-cross of fabric. The flowing bat-wing sleeve that accompanied said surplice neckline is what caught on the railing.

I'm pushing a stroller with a coffee in one hand. Snag. Yank. Hello. Full on half the shirt pulls away with the snag, releasing Betty (or was it Veronica) from her blouson. I yelp. Middle of fucken Metrotown Food Court. Wardrobe malfunction. Justin Timberlake no where to be found. Horrified, I wrench the shirt back into place. "Of course," I say to Amber, "I couldn't be wearing a dark bra that looks like a tank top, nooooooooo. Fucking LEOPARD print." I blushingly hurry to the Ladies' to slap on one of the tanks I have just purchased. Moving everyone into position, I flip my hair over my shoulder and prepare to re-enter the known universe.

As we walk away, a young cracking pubescent voice says, barely in earshot, "Cougar bra!"

Remind me to shop downtown.

End of August Update - Introducing...!

Well it is official - as of yesterday I am self employed. I have started I*G Creative Marketing - specializing in hospitality marketing and brand development, as well as ad design and the like. It's an exciting step in my career, albeit a tad ominous at times. I have often considered this type of move, and always wondered what would actual spur my far-too-happy-being-comfortable ass into such a decision. Well he has a name. The name that shall not be named.

But regardless of personalities, a had a woman tell me that entrepreneurialism often happens when there's simply no other choice in your own head. And I suppose that's what I came to.

I am very fortunate and complimented that Ricky's and Fatburger have stayed on as clients - I'll remain their creative resource for the time being. I look forward to this - I have always loved the work I do, just sometimes (right) not where I was doing it. So this is a great solution, and one that I hope benefits all parties.

So, hey, if you hear of a restaurant that is floundering, opening, or just in general need of some help, let me know.

NOW, on to my new favorite restaurant in the whole GD GVRD... Boneta. A mighty triumvirate front of house management team made up of Mark Brand (former award winning Chambar bar manager), Neil Ingram (former sommelier at Lumiere) and Andre McGillveray (former Le Croc, Lumiere and Chambar manager) makes walking in the door feel like a red-carpet experience every single time. Attentive, ridonkulously knowledgeable and damned fine dressers, these boys know how to treat a lady. Or a tramp, for that matter. Woot.

Jeremie Bastien is heading up the kitchen. I have sat here staring at my screen trying to think of the right words to describe his food... You know when you have such amazing sex - maybe you're partner used a "move" you hadn't known before? You lie there, spent and slightly confused, because you feel so good, yet you're not sure what just happened? All you know is that you want it again and again? Jeremie Bastien, ladies and gentlemen. Le petit mort of Gastown. Christ almighty.

I have now orgasmed over the food there over 6 times. Every time - criminal. Completely unfair. I find myself making excuses for leaving my other regular haunts after a few drink to sneak off in Boneta, plunk myself at the bar and go for another ride. I could go into a dish-by-dish diatribe, but that would be like dissecting fabulous love making. How gauche.

Just go. Keep your pants on. Just loosen the belt a little.

http://www.canada.com/cityguides/vancouver/story.html?id=1abc14a6-5679-4670-ae2f-4ce3d52dc42f&k=63249

Weddings, work and related shite.

Summer continues. What the heck is up with the weather? I'm freezing and it's August, last I checked. Brr.

Quite a busy month - my cousin got married this last weekend - I was the emcee. Lots of fun, the weather was perfect and everyone was in great form. I got a wee sunburn on my cleavage, and seven mosquito bites on one leg, but other than that, am unscathed. Linda and Sunny were beautiful... My sisters were all in attendance, with their kids. I danced with my nephew, Shane - amazing kid, had far too much fun and got his crazy aunt to get him drinks. My niece, Lexi, is getting too pretty too fast for me. She's gonna be trouble. They're the cuties in the pic above.

I have officially given my notice at work - I'm going freelance!! It's a bit scary, but I think it's the right move for me now. Watch for IFG Creative Marketing. I'll post logos and pretty things later.

I keep telling myself that this is the perfect time for me to go for the self-employment thing. I use positive visualization, imagining myself being highly successful, winning awards and such... but then I think I cross the line between positive thinking and fantasy. Can you shout "In your FACE!" to people during positive visualizations? Laugh condescendingly right back at them? Remind them I'm ten years younger than they are and have all this ... HAHAHAHAHAHA!?

OK I'm fine now.

The really good news is my Neilio is likely coming home sooner than expected. Poor monkey all alone in Miami. Yuck.

Back to work (aka reading copyranter.)

July and stinking hot...

I must thank Jim for reminding me that I haven't posted here for a while. Thanks, Jim.

Mother of hell. Literally. It's too hot for the wee island lass. I am eager to get to work, because we have a freezing cold office. Yum.

Much ado about work - Jane is leaving, Stephen is leaving. Big tidal waves of resulting crap are crashing upon all of us. Everyone is looking at me wondering "How the hell has she lasted this long?" Well my friends... who knows what the future holds? I do. The big bosses are in meetings today trying to "figure out" why everyone is leaving and how it can be "prevented". It can't. Oh wait - get new leadership, and new corporate culture and re-work the business model to suit today's marketplace. Prevention 101.

In the never ending saga of my personal life, there is little to report. Too busy with strategies and such work related endeavors to concern myself with the baser matters of life. I'll get there, though. God knows I love base things.

I have been drinking the hot afternoons away down on the deck at Le Gav. So shady, so much wine, so good. I'm thinking about asking Manny if I can rent a table and take my laptop down there and work in civilized environs. If I say environs, I bet he'll let me.

Other than that... hm. i finally made it over to Thetis to see the new family digs. Steph and Grant have done so much work as have my uncles. Will be nice to have a place to go hide in. More about Thetis later, though... it's possible that Big City Momma C may make her way island side for a business opp. Stay tuned.

C

April to June

How does it happen that I'm suddenly walking down 2nd Avenue in Whitehorse, the conversation of three German tourists being blown back to me by rainy wind, grateful for the rain, as it is otherwise just dusty wind? The traffic politely stops as I'm crossing the street. And I'm struck by the serenity of anonymity. A whole five local people know why I'm here, who I am, what I do. I have no expectations on me, no strict agenda, no working cell phone.

I buy a bottle of wine at the closest CB&W. All liquor is stashed behind Plexiglas, as is the clerk. As I'm walking out, three Harleys pull up. I smile.

Crossing the street again, a gust of wind blows my hair in my face and I'm temporarily slowed. I look up after wiping the red back and a car is sitting four feet from me. Patiently waiting for me to find my bearings. The driver waves as I smile sheepishly.

I turn my hotel room key in my pocket as I round the corner. Alone is good when you really are. The wood stairs creak as I ascend. Half the rooms have doors open to keep the hot air moving. Snippets of tv shows drift into the hallway. An Australian complete with khakis and chapeau passes me, and utters g'day. Unreal.

I wonder what Alan Shore will get up to tonight.

April Already?

How the time flies... it's been a very busy 6 weeks, full of all sorts of fun and insanity.

My best guy friend has been offered a COO position in Miami and is likely moving. This sends me for a loop, as I spend more time with him than anyone in my life. I will miss him badly and am trying to hatch an evil plan that will get him arrested before he goes so they revoke his right to live in the US.

I am still dating the same guy. It's sporadic and infrequent, as we're both busy bees. He's out of town for three weeks now, so I find myself twiddling my thumbs rather a lot these days. He has some drama in his life, but he seems to think it's over. Here's hoping. I have a serious intolerance for past relationships taking precedence over mine. No patience for that at all.

I have fallen in and out of love with my job about 5 times. Almost walked out the other day. But the waters are calm now - god only knows when the next tsunami of crises will hit there. In the mean time, the raise has come through, the plans stay the same but the infatuation is certainly over.

And now for the fun part...

I had cleverly booked off two days for the Playhouse Wine Fest this year, and was generously given two tickets to the Trade Tastings on Thursday and Friday afternoon. (Thanks Dodo!)There were some 1500 wines, ports and sherries. I tasted maybe 120 total, which was still a feat.

I was graced by the presence of one Vancouver's top sommeliers as my guide, so off we went. It turned into a social fest as he is popular and buys a lot of wine. We got to taste some product that was not for public view - reps reaching under the table and looking furtive as they pour a calculated ounce. Amazing wines out there... a few recommendations:

Yali, from Chile: 14.99 and an amazing value. Sauv Blanc is crisp and dry, a hint of herb and mineral,and some tropical fruit, but not as much as the Marlbourough varietals. The Carmenere was simply lovely. Jammy plum, spicy coffee, beautiful colour... for 15 bucks a no-brainer.

Skillogalee from Clare Valley, Aus:Take Two Shiraz/Cab 21.90 Restricted Dry grown and perfectly balanced. And I don't like Shiraz as a rule...
Gewurtztraminer 27.90 Spec Absolutely gorgeous lychee and rose petals on the nose, rich and powdery floral fruit. I went back to this table four times for this wine. One of the best Gewurtz's I've ever tasted.

Some others, more briefly:

Broncott Vineyards from Marlborough, New Zealand: Classic Sauv Blanc and Pinot Noir
Boutari Visanto - try this - you'll be surprised.
Nepenthe, which Manny affectionately calls No Panties - Tryst was fabulous. DRINK IT.
Neo, mega super aged Sherry that tasted like sweet burnt honey. The finish on this stuff was like an hour if not more... mind blowing stuff.

I'm sure there were dozens more I could write about - those are the top of mind labels I can recall... Will ad to the list as I shake the cobwebs from my head.

Oh nevermind...

A-twitter, a-shmitter. Next please. Whoever said I change men more often than I change socks was wrong. I don't own this many pairs of socks.

Onward and upward. There are things I could write here about my current dating situation, but I won't, just because I'd hate to get everyone excited for nothing. So you must wait.

I have recently been in touch with what I suppose the romantic side of me, when I don't kick it to the curb, would call an old flame. An old flame that got married and decided after five years to get in touch with me. And I certainly don't wish to sound unhappy about the resurfacing of the gentleman, I'm quite thrilled to hear from him. But it has sent the grey cells for a jaunt down memory lane. More on that once I'm done shaking my head in amazement.

Today, as I was driving home, I said aloud, "My life is very very good." I have good things and people around me, I live in a wealthy country and really want for very little.

So there you have it. A nugget of nothingness.

More breaking news...

Went to Gastropod. Was happy with my meal, but not rolling my eyes in ecstasy. The Note Bene was a yummy choice for reds... however the majority of the evening was drowned in gin and concern for the weather. Conversation was about why one should never have a partner in business, much less someone you've dated, even much less someone you want to date. No wait, those were two seperate conversations. Nevermind. Damn that Tanq Ten. And bless it, too.

Speaking of Kits, I have recently been set a-twitter by a man that lives right around the corner from Gastropod. I won't go into details, not because there aren't any, but becuase he's evidently bookmarked this page. Smart lad. Suffice it to say, I am interested more than I have been in a awhile, and holy crap is it refreshing to hang out with someone that doens't count days before phone calls or is afraid to just enjoy another person. Yay.

Thoughts upon Prada-frocked demons

The devil doesn’t wear Prada. The devil understands Prada and makes her own fortune. She wears Prada because it makes her money.

Women who know what they want take it. Sometimes you pay for this in your personal life. How masculine. How powerful. How frightening as hell to every man in the universe.

Woman as the root of evil. How charming. How archaic. Apple, anyone?

Just because she was emotional and human in a moment didn’t stop Miranda Preistley from being a business woman, but instead gave her the rep as bitchy, cold and overly ambitious. If we never saw her cry, hurt or feel, she would have simply been considered a business woman - driven, ambitious and perhaps heartless to all appearances. But her emotional response to her pending divorce, her concern for her children's reaction to "another dad" somehow, what, lessened her. Now she was guilty of crimes against humanity and deserved to suffer her pain. Up until that point we were getting to know steel-nosed business woman and almost respect her for her sharpness, her attention to detail that we all overlook and her cruelty. But no, that isn't acceptable. There has to be an emotional goopy chick in there somewhere. No woman can be THAT successful and not regret it...

Instead a woman is to accept her place – a not so hot job helping someone making “a difference” and making way the fuck less money, but thank god, she can go all the fuck to Boston and have grilled cheese sandwiches after sex with the sous chef. Her dream job of being mother to all. Give me a fucking break.

Well thank god for Miranda. Thank god for her tears, her anger, her intolerance, her laughter, her charm and her understanding of what power really is … fleeting, female and fickle. Hold it as long as you can, and for your own purposes do what must be done to keep your claws in it. It will NOT last. THAT is what separates men from women in business; men believe in eternal life, women believe in reincarnation.

I am not suggesting that being possessed by greed, avarice or bitter need for money is healthy. Of course it isn’t.
Being conscious, strong and willed by intuition and not need, is why women are advancing beyond men, whether they are prepared for it or not, and whether we are paid for it or not. We get it. We gut-feel it. We cannot be shaken, there is no deal; it is because it is. You cannot supplant a woman’s real power, her gut… it is rooted in history, in suppression, in righteous anger and in devout aspiration for greatness.

I stand in the shadow of the Miranda's of this world and take heart, not shame. I know can't have it all. But I will die trying to be every single thing I feel called to be -- successful, maternal, influential and unforgettable.

No grilled cheese necessary.

A long and winding commentary... *warning - God is mentioned*

My friend Ike posted this excerpt from a book on his blog and asked for thoughts... I'm posting mine here instead of on his blog. Because I can, that's why.

From Dallas Willard's Renovation of the Heart:
We each become a certain kind of person in the depths of our being, gaining a specific type of character. And that is the outcome of a process of spiritual formation as understood in general human terms that apply to everyone, whether they want it or not. Fortunate or blessed are those who are able to find or are given a path of life that will form their spirit and inner world in a way that is truly strong and good and directed Godward.

The shaping and reshaping of the inner life is accordingly, a problem that has been around as long as humanity itself; and the earliest records of human thought bear eloquent witness to the human struggle to solve it - but with very limited success, one would have to say.

True, some points in human history have shown more success in the elevation of the human spirit than others. But the low points far exceed the high points, and the average is discouragingly low. Societies the world around are currently in desperate straits trying to produce people who are merely capable of coping with their life on earth in a nondestructive manner. This is as true of North America and Europe as it is of the rest of the world, though the struggle takes superficially different forms in various areas. In spiritual matters there really is no "Third World." It's all Third World.
------------------------------

Now, some of the other comments to this post include opinions on cultural development, spiritual relevance to character and vice versa, as well as just how darned dark and depressing this makes the future of mankind in it's journey to "getting better" or Enlightenment, or what you call it. I think that the one point Mr. Willard is making is a valid one: as a society at large, we have barely created a structure that maintains human decency, nevermind spirtual awakening. That secular society, regardless of faith, is developing spiritually, but at what rate and to what end?

If it is "the fortunate or blessed" that get to go "Godward" and be "truly strong and good", which to me implies a minority, where's everyone else headed? Man-ward? Satan-ward? Is this the root of the doom of man? Is the reluctance or outright denial of acknowledging that being a spiritual being is akin to being a human being mean we don't get to play with the other reindeer? It starts to sound traditionally exclusive, as most Xtian writing tends to, in that there's an us and a they, that awareness is necessary for "salvation", (very specific awareness, mind you) and that at the end of the day the answer is there but we're all to shallow, materialistic or demonically possessed to see it. But join us on Sunday...

I could very well just be knee-jerking because of my defensiveness when it comes to my religious upbringing, but at the heart of it, it seems quite arrogant, if not omniscient, to claim that the entire world is spiritually Ethiopian and living in the flies, waiting for the second coming of Sally Struthers. Not that it's the days of wine and roses, fer pete's sakes, but I'd rather have a more balanced view - considering I am not omniscient (yet); that in the end the love you make is equal to the love you take.

Ok, so that was trite, but in the end I'm much more concerned with what I do, with my life, my family, my love and my time, than about postulating about the planet's spiritual development strategy. (yes this blog proves me a hypocrite, get over it.) Back in the day when we didn't know what was going on all over hell's half acre, we cared about our communities, our families, our livestock and the crop. I'm not trying to glorify Little House on the Prairie, but once upon a time, we pretty much had to mind our own business, cuz it's all we knew. If the energy that is spent on worrying about who was saved or not was spent mending the fabric of our neighbourhoods, the issues of "the wages of sin" would be drastically reduced, and Sally Struthers would be out of a job. Hallelujah.