Love the NFB



Went to the Atlantic on Saturday night with some friends who were feeling nostalgic for the East Coast and listened to some great trad music. One of the songs that I sang along loudly with (although, truth me told, I sang along with MOST of them) was the Log Driver's Waltz...I have fond chidhood memories of this little NFB short playing on the Knowledge Network right before or after Today's Special. Ah, the McGarrigles. Ah, the NFB. Ah, the Knowledge Network. Some things just take you back.

Late Night Grocery Store Weirdness

Long day at the office yesterday, followed by volunteer commitments, meant I didn't get home until quite late. Currie has been on a hunger strike for the past few days...well, not really...she'll eat her crunchies but has decided that the wet food she gets which she previously loved (turkey flavored. mmm. turkey.) was no good. This started a couple of days ago. When I finally made it home last night, I saw that her breakfast was sitting uneaten and she resolutely refused to eat. any. more. turkey. So, I trudged out again, to the 24 hour SuperValu on the corner, to get her something *other* than turkey. The things we do for our animals.

Anyways, as I was there, I picked up a litre of milk and some cereal. I was still carrying my briefcase, tucked under one arm, and my groceries in the other hand. I didn't have that much. It wasn't a burden. I went and got in line at the till. The man in front of me turned around, looked at me and said, "Oh, please, let me take that from you, put it on the belt, I'm only buying cigarettes." He lunged for my things and placed them on the belt for me. I felt awkward. "Errrr, thanks," I said. "It wasn't really heavy though."

Oohhhhh, no. Was he trying to hit on me in SuperValu? At 11 pm? Really?

Yup. He tried to strike up a few conversations. I resolutely stared at the magazine racks, pretending to be engrossed in Britney's latest tragedy, and responded just enough to not seem rude, but to get the point across: NOT INTERESTED. In anything. Talking, flirting, NOTHING. NOTHING. He eventually gave up and lapsed into silence.

Finally, his turn at the cash desk came. He placed a hand on the belt to stop my things from reaching the scanner, and remarked that he didn't want the cashier to think they were his things. "Don't worry," I said cheerfully. "You don't have to pay for it!"

There was a pause. The man looked at me strangely.

"No," the man said. "I think I WILL pay for it." He turned to the cashier. "I'm paying for it." He handed the cashier his debit card.

"No, no, absolutely not, that is just fine, no, thank you, very much, NO." I was very firm. I shook my head at the cashier, who looked at me in amazement, as if to say, "What the hell did you DO to this man that he wants to buy your groceries?"

The man insisted for a few more minutes and shook his debit card at the cashier. Finally the cashier, after me protesting loudly, said awkwardly to the man, "Errr, sir, if the lady says no thank you, I can't do it." The man grumbled, "Fine, fine, fine" and paid for his cigarettes. As he waited for his debit transaction to be approved, he took out two twenties and threw them at me. "I'll pay cash then."

Again, I protested, the cashier protested, the guy in line behind me squealed (we were on Davie after all), and the two guys working the next till over laughed loudly.

"No, SERIOUSLY, I'm really fine. I make my own money. It's OK. You don't know me. You don't have to do this. I can pay." "She said it's OK sir, you're kind, but she said no, really, please take your money back." The cashier and I, both speaking over each other, protested, and I managed to force the money back into the man's hand, although he handed it back to me several times. I firmly thanked him for his kind offer. He was most offended that I wouldn't accept his money. I thought, however, that we had convinced him that he couldn't pay for my groceries, and he was on his way out the door. I thanked him once again, in a tone that was utterly final. He seemed to accept my decision. I shook his hand. He stared at me gravely. The cashier reached for my things and began checking me through. We waited for the man to leave. He stood still and looked at me again for split second.

And then he threw the twenties on the belt and ran (RAN!) out the door.

Much consternation ensued. I couldn't even run to catch up with him. The cashier, the guy behind me in line, and the other cashiers laughed and shook their heads, looking at me in amazement. I was totally flummoxed. What the hell was that guy doing?! The cashier shook his head ruefully, picked up the twenties, paid my bill and handed me the change.

"What can you do?" he said, shaking his head and chuckling.

Well, what COULD I do? It was totally bizarre. I don't think he was really HITTING on me; he didn't ask for my number, didn't ask anything about me, and really, past the first conversation, really didn't seem like your typical amorous creep. So what the hell WAS that?!

The theories that have emerged from my friends are:

1. That he was trying to accumulate reward miles/points through his debit card. However, he ended up giving me CASH anyway, so not sure what that meant.

2. The cash was counterfeit. But, he had initially offered to pay by DEBIT (see Item 1), so this one's out the window.

3. The man was my guardian angel (?!) and decided I needed $40 (the inimitable Ruby Chan, everyone. Take a bow, Ruby, your genius knows no bounds).

4. The man's pride was hurt when I initially rejected him and he felt he had to show me who was boss (in which case he's from Planet Misogyny).

5. Man was crazy.

I'm leaning towards Number 5 at the moment. Not really sure what the hell that was...and why these weird things always happen to ME. I am a weird magnet. Most of the time I enjoy it...but not after such a long day at work. Now I feel like I can't drink my milk. It's guilt milk or something.

Just Say No to Noh Pie

Went out for dinner tonight with some friends from UVIC Law who I haven't seen in a long time. Feeling we had to keep up our UVIC, granola, save-the-earth stereotypical image, we went to the Naam on West 4th, one of Vancouver's oldest natural food restaurants, where you can get tofu and fried rice, tofu, curry and fried rice, or tofu, vegetables and rice. All vegetarian. We sat out on the patio, amidst small twink lights, lovely music from a woman playing a guitar on a small stage, and alot of people wearing hemp clothing.

I had a very nice veggie burder on a multigrain bun (baked in-house) with something approximating homemade mustard and miso gravy (?), with lots of nice fresh veggies. I sound condescending, but I actually like veggie foods. I used to be a frequent visitor to Green Cuisine in Market Square in Victoria, which did all yummy vegan food. I just don't know that corporate law, workin'-for-the-Man me (I love you, the Man!) really "fits" at these hippie joints anymore. The Blackberry definitely wasn't welcome.

Anyways, dessert menus made the rounds. I'm off sugar, except for fruit, most wheat and generally most foods worth eating at the moment for health reasons, and so I thought I would just look at the menu and pine, when one item caught my eye: "Noh pie."

Noh pie is described as such: "no sweet, no dairy, no wheat, banana-date-cashew cream pie."

No sweet, you say? As in, no added sugar?

"That's right," confirmed our waitress. "It's just fruit and nuts."

Yes! Acceptable dessert! To a girl in the midst of a painful breakup with sugar and alcohol on the forbidden list, this seemed like a godsend. With oh-so-much optimism, I ordered it with a cup of fair-trade organic coffee. My friend Parm ordered a piece of carrot cake.

Our desserts and coffee finally arrived and I was dying with anticipation.

The carrot cake was half a foot high, and coated in a luscious layer of cream cheese frosting. It looked delicious. I sniffed at it disdainfully and turned to my own plate. My Noh Pie, in startling contrast to the carrot cake, looked like grainy brown mushy banana pudding. I was optimistic that it would taste better than it looked. I dug my fork in and took a generous mouthful as my friends attacked the carrot cake.

My friends all paused, forks in mid-air, to watch me as I tried my Noh Pie. I chewed (or rather, swished) thoughtfully. It was like eating oatmeal, rotten banana, and babyfood, all at the same time. My face must have confirmed to my friends that the Noh Pie was indeed too good to be true.

"Well," I said, after I managed to swallow. "You should all try it."

They all put their forks down and seemed to back away from the table. "No, really," I said. "Try." I passed the pie to Parm, on my left, who looked at it dubiously. Seeing her hesitation, I said, "It doesn't matter what it looks like. Just close your eyes and put it in your mouth."

(This comment was met by much laughter by my girlfriends for obvious, dirty reasons)

Parm tried. She almost gagged. Then she looked at me, and in a show of support, made yummy noises and she worried down her mouthful.

The Noh Pie passed around the table, with most people looking like they'd rather spit than swallow (yes, more lascivious laughter followed this comment, which was actually made by someone following my Freudian slip). All it took was one look at Paula after she hesitantly tasted the Noh Pie to know exactly how SHE felt about it. Ruby, on my right, who had watched the much-maligned dessert make its way around the table, tried to evade the pie by distracting me by talking about shopping, but she failed and I forced her to try it.

"Maybe I should put some in my coffee," I suggested. "You know, to sweeten it."

"Errr, maybe," said Ruby, ever the supportive friend. "Or maybe you should, you know, try that out before you commit. Pour a little coffee here in this saucer and mix it in."

"What?" I scoffed. "You don't think that would be good? You don't like my idea?"

"Errr...well," hedged Ruby. "I'd just hate for you to ruin a good cup of coffee."

And that was the essence of the Noh Pie. Good in theory, dubious in practice, and definitely not worth a cup of coffee.

The Naam has lots of delicious real pies. Blueberry. Peach. Strawberry Rhubarb. I'd suggest if you hit up the Naam, order one of these and leave the Noh Pie well enough alone.

And, we're back.

Was out of commission for the last several days thanks to the death of the laptop Edy brought me in February...I was sort of going out of my mind by hour 2 of not having a computer. My mom said it was like I was grounded. It was kind of true.

Today was the first day I had time to go and buy my third laptop in 6 years...I bit the bullet this time and bought a MacBook. Mostly because it's white and pretty, and white won't show Currie hair as much as a black one. I kid, I kid. Actually not really. But seriously, since my first laptop purchase I've always eyed IBooks and Macbooks enviously and then talked myself into a PC as I really needed it for school: writing papers, etc. Now that I've been out of school a few years and am chained to my PC at work, I really only use my home compy for playing: reading gossip blogs, downloading music, watching movies, blogging...which is what that cute guy in the Mac commercials will tell you Macs are all about. And there I had it: my justification for finally buying the toy I really wanted instead of the sensible option.

So far, so good. Now if I could just load Soulseek onto the damn thing, I'd be in business.

Under siege due to fireworks craziness. Must go hide with Currie under the bed until it's all over...

Summer Food

Today actually felt like the first day of summer. No, wait. I'm wrong. Yesterday felt like the first day of summer...sitting outside Dolce Amore on Commercial Drive early last night with my friends, lapping away at a gelato and staring at pink clouds in the sky. But today felt just as wonderful. Anything after the rain we've endured for months and months feels wonderful. I went for a run tonight, down Broughton to the Seawall, around Lost Lagoon to Second Beach, and around the Seawall again to Yaletown. Satisfied I'd had a good workout, I made a great dinner featuring some of the local produce I tracked down in the markets this weekend...

Dani's Westcoast Fatoush

Fatoush is a Middle Eastern bread salad. I've substituted some of the ingredients to include local veggies...this version serves 6. Trust me. It's very filling...


Ingredients

Salad:
1/2 pound green beans, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup sugar snap peas, sliced lengthwise 1 cup snow peas, sliced lengthwise
1 zucchini, peeled, seeded, and cut into 3/4-inch chunks
1/2 medium Walla Wallaonion, diced (about 1/2 cup)
3 whole-wheat pita rounds (I use flax seed pitas)
2 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper
4 oz. feta cheese, crumbled


Lemon-Tarragon Vinaigrette:
1 large lemon
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup minced fresh tarragon leaves
Salt and pepper


Instructions

1. In a medium saucepan over high heat, cook beans and peas in salted boiling water for 2 minutes, until just tender. Drain and rinse in cold water. Pat dry.


2. Heat a grill or grill pan to medium-high heat. Brush pitas with olive oil; spinkle with salt. Grill about 1 minute per side, turning once. Tear into 1-to-2-inch chunks.


3. For vinaigrette: Grate lemon zest and squeeze juice. Combine with remaining ingredients; whisk.


4. In large serving bowl, combine beans and peas, zucchini, onion, pita chunks, vinaigrette, and feta. Season with salt and pepper; let sit 10 minutes to combine flavors.




Et voila. A badly photographed Westcoast Fatoush. Top it off with some Surrey blueberries and Okanagan lapin cherries for dessert...

Buy Local.

Here's what $40 buys you at the Nelson Park Farmer's Market:

- 2 bunches of organic carrots
- 2 large Walla Walla sweet onions
- 1 lb box of blueberries
- 2 lb box of Okanagan Lapin cherries
- 12 Okanagan plums
- 1 large bunch organic chard
- 2 organic zucchini
- 1/2 lb of organic basil
- 1 loaf whole grain farmer's bread
- 1 dozen bear claw cookies made from unbleached flour, unsalted butter and organic chocolate
- 1 blackberry pie

Take your own cloth bag, walk to the market, buy some great eats and reduce your carbon footprint for the day. Every little helps.

Take that, Safeway.

Harry Hotter

So tonight was Harry Potter mania night...after work I met some friends for drinks and nibblies, rushed home to feed the Currie cat, and then out to the movies to meet some different friends and catch the latest Harry Potter flick. I can't even remember what it's called. I just call it Number Five. Seeing as how the book didn't wow me, I wasn't expecting the movie to, either, but it was quite enjoyable. Mostly in a disturbing way; watching the actors who started playing these roles as kids turn into semi-attractive adults is a little unsettling. Annie turned to me at one point and said, "Harry's RIPPED!" And it was true. He was ripped. Then she turned to her sister Megan and said, "His name should be Harry HOTTER." On the way out of the theatre Erin commented that when Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) kissed Cho Chang (nameless cute girl), it seemed like "he knew what he was doing. In the book, Harry was supposed to be nervous. But he looked like he knew what he was doing." Um, yeah. Again, a train of thought I didn't really want to embark upon: the sex life of Daniel Radcliffe. Shudder. It feels dirty.

The movie ended around 12:30, and we then made our way to the Chapters on Robson so Barb could pick up her pre-ordered copy of the book. I stood in a line that snaked from the front of the store to the back with those unlucky or unorganized persons who hadn't pre-ordered. One of the lawyers I work for was standing in the line; being the good mom that she is she had promised to bring it home, and she let me jump the queue with her. Behind us were some very obliging "tweens" who had dressed up for the occasion. They had their faces painted with various things-the Gryffindor crest, Fluffy the three-headed whatever...and were wearing school uniforms and carrying wands. One of them, a boy with slicked back blondish hair and wearing a Slytherin badge, thrust his arm in my face.

"Look at my dark mark! I'm Draco Malfoy!" I appropriately ooh'ed and aah'ed over the smear of black facepaint on his forearm. My colleague informed me that the kids had been interviewed by a correspondent from the Canadian Press. "Yeah," said Draco, with an ultra-casual air. "Like, half the people in the WORLD want our picture." Again, appropriate oohs and aahs. One of his friends, who was supposed to be Ginny Weasley and had sprayed her hair red, piped in that they had seen a really good Harry Potter costume earlier in the night. "Not as good as THIS one, though," said Draco, pointing to a magazine with Daniel Radcliffe on the cover. I agreed that he was a pretty good Harry Potter. "You know what? He got a cheque for fifty THOUSAND dollars," Draco informed me gravely. "That's like, the biggest cheque ever for a kid actor." I didn't have the heart to tell him it was fifty MILLION dollars...he seemed appropriately awed at the thought of fifty thousand dollars.

Most of the Chapters staff were making a night of it and were also dressed up. A woman in a black dress and a long platinum wig wearing a badge that said "Narcissa Malfoy" rang in my book. A very good Dolores Umbridge, in a pink dowdy suit with a pillbox hat, stamped my book to say that on the stroke of midnight on July 21, 2007, I had received my copy of the final Harry Potter book, and we were out the door and back on Robson Street.

So that's that. No more pre-ordering, no more waiting in line at midnight, no more leaked copies online...no more books. All that's left is the brainless consumerism of the remaining two movies and the eight zillion merchandise tie-ins. I didn't have a problem so much with Pottermania when it encouraged people to read...but now that there are no more books, can't it please just go away?

At Borough Market, July 7, 2007

So of course my favorite place in London is well-established: Borough Market, near Southwark Cathedral, on the south bank of the Thames. It's the only place in London you can get lilies, the best coffee ever (mmm...Monmouth Coffee Company), an ostrich burger, and a giant wheel of cheese, all in the same lovely location. Gjertud, Albert, Rashed, Stephen and I hit up the market early on the Saturday morning before Gjert and I took off for Live Earth. For those who don't know us, Gjert and I have a tendency to...um...how do I put this...over-accessorize? And the boys decided that with our oversized shades, bangle bracelets, big leather bags and whatnot, we looked like celebrities. Absurdly flattering. So we did a whole "celebs in the market" montage. These lovely pictures are courtesy of Albert Lluis Vinas, aka the Bert.

Rashed and Gjertrud. I think Rashed looks just as "celeb-chic" as Gjertrud here.

We are like, very important people. As evidenced by my circa-1999 Nokia phone commonly known to all and sundry as "The Brick," and my Jessops bottom-of-the-line digital camera.

Sometimes I get so tired of the paparazzi you know. I'd like to assure everyone I am wearing knickers here. No Britney/Paris/Lindsay moments for me.

MMMMM. My favorite lilies.


I just think everyone looks sexier in black and white, don't you?



Basking in my celebrityness.




Walking through the Market. Seriously one of the most charmed places in London. No wonder Bridget Jones lived there.



Reunited: Albert, Dani and Rashed.

Some Live Earth 2007 Pics

Russell Brand announcing the next act at Live Earth. Thank goodness we had tix for both the pitch and the reserved seating...we stood up for three hours or so and that was enough for me...although this gives you an idea of how close we were.
Edy was able to pop in and out, in between hobnobbing with Liam Gallagher and the Red Hot Chili Peppers...loser.
This is me freaking out that the Beastie Boys are playing.
And there they are.
Yippee!