365: Red; January 30,. Take Out

Except for the snow - or maybe even with, considering the weather there at present - this scene reminds me of New York City.

This little boite is maybe 15 feet from a really busy road, at a really noisy corner, across the street from a loud sports bar.

Backs turned to the world, just waiting on some grub.

365: Red; January 29, Winter Reprise

So the weather went pear-shaped today. It's been snowing in this city since October, and we had the most snow we've had in December in 112 years, and there's so much snow and ice on the side streets that some people are housebound still, despite the road clearing having been going on 24/7 for three months, but did anyone remember what crap roads are like? No.

365: Red; January 28, Little Red Corvette

We read in bed at night - full geek - on our respective gadgetty tablets. Usually, our reading leans to tech and science or gossip of the high-brow/Vanity Fair persuasion.

But sometimes, it just goes off the rails, particularly where it concerns cars and racing and possible pile-ups...

365: Red; January 27, Window Frost

We've had gorgeous weather for about two weeks - temperatures above the seasonal average by 15 to 20 degrees. It's been nice.

However, it is January, so one cannot expect such summer to last. When it does go, the humidity in the air leaves some lovely patterns on glass. This shot is through my driver's side window towards my neighbour's new car.

My neighbour, who has lived in her home for I think 40 some years, finally ditched her 20 year-old car to buy this snazzy red thing. She's 80 years old.

365: Red; January 25; Extra...

This is a bonus just 'cause this made me laugh.

365: Red; January 25; Boss

My kid just returned from a week working in New York City. She's in film and has a friend who is a playwright and film maker there and who brings her in occasionally to volunteer on small projects when she can take a break from the film work she does here.

She lived in NYC for six months and often - very often - mentioned these pecan buns she got from Miss Dahlia's Café in Brooklyn. They sounded delicious from her descriptions of them being addictive.

Last May, we travelled with her to NYC for the graduation of our very dear friend, Cory Dixon, from the New York Academy of Art, and we stayed within walking distance of Miss Dahlia's, so walked the five long blocks there the first morning we were in the city. My goal, as it always is in the morning, was COFFEE..... and, because there they were, one of these famous buns. They are indescribably delicious. Doubtless made with half a cup of butter each, sticky with brown sugar and cinnamon. They are utterly divine.

So I begged my kid to bring me back some of these and two of them made it back. I would have squirrelled myself away with them in my office over two days but I shared with my spouse.

Miss Dahlia's is located at 449 Nostrand Ave in Brooklyn. The subway is Nostrand Ave on the A or C lines. The Buns come from Balthazar Bakery in Spring Street, Manhattan. If ever you're in NYC, just make your way to either Balthazar or Miss Dahlia's.

365: Red; January 24, Junk

The recent announcement by Canada Post that services were going to be "gutted," I think was the term, has had a lot of ink lately. People who will see the end of to-the-door delivery are outraged.

There has been a massive shift in how people send and receive information. Most companies are able - and willing, as it is a huge cost savings - to provide monthly bills by email; most of what we write back and forth to people is also via email, or Facebook, or some other digital form; Fax still exists too. So the necessity for snail mail, as it has come to be called, has decreased exponentially and what is still being delivered is decidedly heavy on the junk side.

It seems the holdouts are companies that have not yet got it that direct mail has about a one percent response rate. Otherwise, that advertising usually winds up in the bin, or, as my friend noted, on the family fire pit.

In my case today, nine bits of direct mail advertising and one bill were delivered to my door; a bill I pay by direct withdrawal anyway, and for which the company provides an annual statement, making that particular paper bill redundant.

Where this concerns Canada Post, however, is this: direct mail is a revenue source. One cannot refuse delivery because the advertisers have paid for this stuff to be delivered, so CP must do it. It strikes me mail delivery is in its death throes if this is what it is reduced to, kinda like when actors end their careers at dinner theatres; fascinating like a car wreck.

As for these advertisers, I would rather, if I have to get it at all, have this stuff come to my in-box. Less paper to chuck, and a correspondingly lower level of guilt, not for ignoring the ads but for the waste of trees... with all the brouhaha about climate change, you'd think people would realise less to-the-door junk mail would have an effect on vehicle emissions (from delivery), pollution, destruction of forests, and lessening of processing chemicals in the water.

365: Red; January 23, Morning

Coffee.

I have a French press, a coffee maker that also grinds the coffee, and this old stove-top percolator, which I paid maybe $5 for, second hand.

It makes brilliant coffee. Reminds me of camping.

365: Red; January 22, Fading into the past

I was married, years and years ago, to probably the worst person for me to be married to. I don't know this person any more, so my perception is still, shall we say, not positive. It's been 20 years since and I've managed to get rid of almost everything that was part of that marriage, save the kids (I adore them) and the house (very grateful for it, all things considered).

Near the end of what was a volatile relationship, my soon-to-be ex had one of their fits. Not often, but often enough to be scary, there were fists, and pushing and shoving, and one time, a kick into the front door, which caused a huge crack and dent in said front door.

That break has been repaired, by a pro, so it isn't noticeable to anyone who doesn't know it's there. But I know it's there. I should probably replace the door. One should forgive, I suppose, and many times, one should maybe also forget. But not always.

365: Red; January 21, Bird Food

We've had really cold weather and TONS of snow this  year. However, the last two weeks have been positively summery for January in the western part of this country, with temperatures rising to 14 C for several days running. 

This has brought the birds. hundreds of chattering starlings and others swarming about our mountain ash tree, where the berries were frozen solid but which are accessible lately. They picked the tree clean and what they didn't eat is all over the ground now. I'm sure they'll be back. 

365: Red; January 20, Confounded

Our little dog... she's pretty smart, really cute, athletic and determined but she cannot for the life of her figure out how to use her paws to open doors.

I've showed her a bunch of times, but it ain't happen.

I think she's just really polite and wants permission.

365: Red; January 19, Breakfast of Champions

This delicious morsel courtesy of my youngest. Bacon, eggs, Gran Padano and rosemary, baked.


I can cook and I've cooked some yummy stuff in my life but my kids, holy crap, they can COOK!

Pretty nice for a Sunday morning.

365: Red; January 18, Secret Service

It strikes me there are probably thousands of articles written daily about how invasive or ubiquitous smart phones are in humans' lives. It strikes me too a fair number of those articles will have been written on a smart phone or tablet.

And despite many of those articles and much of the opinion in them suggesting western civilisation is over and face-to-face communication is nearly dead thanks to technology, it also strikes me there is a tendency to wonder about and even distrust someone who has no cell phone, smart or not, and who doesn't function well in the digital world, and even to marginalise as a techno-peasant or Luddite, those who resist joining the last wave.

That said, I do think it rude to not speak to those we are with, even if "those" are one's little dog.

365: Red; January 17, At the Gallery

My colleague and exhibition co-show is a really connected guy. He knows everyone who's anyone in the arts and photographic community, and every one knows him, and he knows every event happening in the city, when, where. how long and how many he can get to in a day or night.

We were to meet up for drinks, but when I called him, he said he was "just going to rip by this new show" and did I want to come, which I did, because I don't get out enough and I sure don't go to enough openings and shows.

I really enjoy these shows - the work part of them. I am always completely fascinated by who attends, what they wear, both on their bodies and as attitude, and by how static those things are; there's definitely a look and an attitude it seems one must possess to be on the inside. I have neither, so when these types realise I am the other participant in my colleague's joint show, they're surprised. It's kinda hilarious.

But I love me a pair of red shoes. They're standard attire for about 30 percent of art show attendees. I have four pairs, two heels and two flats (one with chains!) I'll have to crack them out for the next show so I have some street cred.

365: Red; January 16, Bar

I don't go out often enough just to hang out with friends. I suppose some people think I'm a snob, but really, I'm just a homebody and I'm lazy sometimes too.

Tonight I had a meeting with a group of friends who run an organisation I'm part of. That was stop one. After that, I had a meeting with my photographer colleague about our upcoming gallery show. We got precisely almost no work done, but we had fun.

In between, I happened on another friend, who I adore and haven't seen in months.

I should go out more.

365: Red; January 15, Buddha on the dashboard

I used to go to school with this amazing gal, Elizabeth. She was an exchange student from Boulder, CO. I think she is the first American I ever got to know well. She was (I'm sure she still is) cool. She'd worked on some political campaign, probably Obama's first term, which she said was really interesting, and she also said that Joe Biden's dentures weren't properly fitted and he'd spit on her once because they chattered when he spoke.

She was only at our university one semester. When she was packing up to leave, she found this little Buddha in her stuff and gave him to me. He's been attached to my dashboard since that day.

Owing to his placement and colour, and because my dashboard is black, I don't notice him all the time. Today, the sun hit him just right and I remembered a lovely woman who slid through my life for such a brief but forever instant. She works at Boulder Blooms now, I think. If ever you're there and she's there, give her a hug and say her Canadian Buddha sent it.

With thanks and a nod to Patricia Conroy, from whom I kinda nicked the title of this post.

365: Red; January 14, Chili, Not Hot Yoga

Back in July, my eldest got the "great" idea we should do a 30-day hot yoga challenge.

Not being "yogis" at the time, meaning having been only twice previously, many years previously, in a hot yoga studio, I was intimidated.

However, in order to have a daily to-do with my lovely child, and not to be outdone by someone 24 years my junior, I agreed.

The first week was not fun. At ALL. One learns very quickly what not to eat (anything fatty), when not to eat (no closer to class than 2 hours) and how much water to drink (lots, but not right before class), in order to manage class and to not barf.

Six months on, I love it. A LOT.

I had great intentions last night but hunger got the better of me so I traded hot yoga for hot, stuffed chillies.

365: Red; January 13, THIS is when I'm ever going to need maths

With few exceptions, there will come a point when a kid mutters, "When am I ever going to use maths in real life?"

I'm trying to knit a sweater based on one I saw on Pinterest. That one is cool but it's made so the body part only covers the body to the top of the bust line. I'd rather be covered up, so am trying to work out a pattern that includes decreases and increases over a particular distance in inches.

This would be the part where all that algebra and plotting stuff would come in handy.

365: Red; January 12, Your mamma doesn't work here

I read somewhere that Timmy Ho's (Tim Horton's) empties make up some 50 percent of trash recovered in those highway clean up efforts that happen how many times a year in this country.

These abandoned empties were left not five feet from a trash can. Whoever left them seems to think someone else is responsible for their trash. Weirdly, this is outside a coffee shop - not a Timmy Ho's - inside which, not five feet from the door, is  yet another trash bin.

It's a strange contradiction how often one hears "We have to look after our environment," and "Go green," and various mutterings to that effect, when it is obvious most people are so lazy they can't manage to clean up after themselves, let alone save the planet.

Oh, and, your mamma doesn't work here, adult person. Chuck it out yourself.

365: Red; January 11, Red Weather Day

We've been having shite weather this year. Shouldn't complain; it is winter, and it isn't like we don't have it every year, but this year has been weird. Early snow, and lots of it, and then the usual monthly-or-so-thaw.

Today dawned bright, blue and -10. The temperature rose to +4 and then within the space of 10 minutes, BLIZZARD, which blew in with  110 kms per hour winds, tossed some heavy stuff into the road - and yeah, I did take this whilst driving - and was gone 30 minutes later.

The days are becoming longer at least. There's light in the sky until about 5:05 p.m. now. So that's nice.

365: Red; January 10, Frozen Summer

This kind of thing really confuses me. How the heck did someone's produce wind up under a tree in the park?

Why only one tomato and how did it come to be cut in half?

Why only one carrot?

What the heck does any of this stuff have to do with itself?

Filed under "One of the most random scenes ever."

Oh. Yeah. You're not nuts. I did skip a day. Not on purpose, unless not specifically, consciously having a camera with me yesterday was somehow subconsciously on purpose.

365: Red; January 8, Requiem

Up near the now-fenced-off for the winter dog-and-people fountain in our park there are three large trees that some kind soul decorates every year for the winter holiday. It's a lovely sight on a cold and drab day to see those trees hung with large and colourful balls and stars.

Among those joyful things rests this bouquet, frozen thanks to very cold temperatures; an ode to a loved pet that took its leave of this world during the recent holidays.

Impossible to know which family or what pet but a reminder to all of us who frequent this park with our furry loved ones this too shall come to us.

365: Red; January 7, Delicate lethal

We live about 3/4 of a kilometre from a large, inner-city park. It's off-leash, so we're there a lot with our small, cute, energetic dog.

There is all manner of foliage in this park. Some has been planted by the city; some has come to be there via the wind; some has got there thanks to discarded fruit - in particular a cluster of excellent crab-apple trees, from which we pick to make jelly.

This plant's origins are anyone's guess but I understand this type of bush is not sold anywhere any more, owing to it being dangerous. Those spines there, among the delicate berries, are about two inches long, really rigid and very sharp.

It's a different colour than gorse that grows in Scotland but it put me in mind of that Scotian plant that boarders Culloden. It was into the yellow-flowered gorse with its three-inch spines the dead and dying were tossed to worsen their agony at that last battle. 

365: Red; January 6, Learning Curve

I used to play this game with my step dad (who I never called step dad; just dad) way back when things were simple. This been sitting on my table for a week now. We have very good intentions but not enough time together (my spouse and I) to crack open that deck or even to find out of the cribbage pins are actually still stored in the board.

Freaking adulthood.

365: Red; January 5, Experiments

Yesterday, when it was -21 degrees in the sun, I did some experiments with soap bubbles.

They are fragile anyway but their tensile strength is obviously much affected by the almost instant freeze, and they're more susceptible to breaking - not popping - in the cold. And they don't go where one might wish them to either.

365: Red; January 4, Cooking Class

We're having dinner with a group of friends tonight, so making desert.

Joint effort, @6foot4design and me making a mashup of a couple or three different recipes.

We can dare this mashup thanks to forgiving friends, who won't care if its a disaster.

365: Red; January 3, My Daughter was here

I have two adult children living at home. Both have lived away for substantial periods, but due to work (in film; read: chaotic, unpredictable) and university and pending wedding, respectively, they're home again, and I'm glad of it.

Many days can pass without us seeing each other, despite a relatively small house, given our schedules, so I'm always glad for evidence they're around.
This is Rick Mercer's book, A Nation Worth Ranting About.

365: Red; January 2, Mainlining Strawberry Margaritas

I've been waking up with explosive headaches for about three weeks, and three or four times a week for the last few months and a couple times a month at least for the last few years.

This morning, it was so bad that I was frightened so headed to the hospital. Four hours later, a CT scan and some blood work and I have a mostly-clean bill of health. Seems TMJ, or more accurately, TMD, is the most likely culprit.

365: Red; January 1, The Horse Hospital

This is the first entry of 365. The subject is RED.

This photo: The Horse Hospital, London, England.

I made this photo when I was in London in 2012 with Chris Tait, a photographer I show with annually during Exposure Festival in Calgary, for our five-year-long show, Tripping the Streets Fantastic