The Dude

View MyPhoto-1...jpg in slide show

Ladies, may I present The Dude.

A big thank you to my good friend in Toronto for the picture.

It was a dark day and The Dude was not in one of his better moods.

But, you can see what a pretty beast he is,

 right?

I can’t find a single thing to read in my piles of books,

it makes no sense.

I always feel off quilter when I can’t read.

I’ll try tomorrow to finish My Year Of Meats.

Meantime I wanted you all to meet, The Dude.

He is named after The Dude in The Big Lebowski,

one of my favourite films.

About a lovable bum in a series of insane situations.

If you haven’t seen it,

watch it next time you are in the mood for the absurd.

Later girls

BB

Memories are made of these

It’s raining.

I told you all yesterday,

 that I was feeling wonky,

yes,

that is the technical term.

So, in an effort to beat the doldrums,

I thought I would write about,

 some of my favourite things.

Some of my likes and loves,

 you are familiar with,

Blundstones, Swatches, L.L. Bean shirts …

Others are memories of things long gone.

A lot,

 have to do with smells and sounds.

My Grandmaman Lydia,

used to make cake,

this cake was known as gateau blanc,

which literally translates as,

 white cake.

This was a vanilla cake, moist but,

not too moist,

the perfect combination of air and texture.

My cousin,

an admirable baker,

makes grandmaman’s chocolate cake.

It is most people’s favourite and delicious,

but,

I’m not most people and,

the white is still my favourite.

I miss her and the cake.

My Granny Grace,

the anglo side of the family,

died when I was just a kid,

and I remember her big belly laugh,

some people say I inherited it,

genetics also gave me the belly.

Life isn’t always fair.

When my godson, Jerome,

was just a baby,

 I used to smell his hair while he slept.

A perfect smell,

 which I can’t possibly hope to describe.

He’s a big boy of eight now,

sensitive and sweet.

My ex and I had a cat, Bud,

he was a talker and a pacifist.

That cat refused to kill anything.

He would talk and talk,

 probably telling us to join,

 Greenpeace or Ducks unlimited.

My dad and I watching Looney Tunes,

waiting for the day,

 the coyote would fnally catch the roadrunner.

Some of my favourite things are sill around,

mom’s meatloaf, cold on tap beer, espresso coffee.

Some I haven’t seen in a while,

 a Julia Roberts movie,

the post coital shine in a woman’s eyes.

But, hey hope springs eternal.

I still haven’t seen Eat, Pray, Love,

so that hope is afloat:-)

My grandpa always carried peppermints,

 in a baggie in his pocket,

and when you were feeling low,

 he would say “want a peppermint?”

It was a cure all.

I can’t walk by Kerr’s Scotch Mints at the grocery store,

 without thinking of him.

Not all my favourite things involve dead people.

It’s just as you get older you “know” a lot of  dead people.

I love to go for greasy Chinese food,

 and my heart swells when I hear Pavarotti,

sing Nessun Dorma.

Lady Gaga, PBS, Joan Baez.

Flannel sheets, autumn leaves, crusty bread.

The Dude, Tom Yum soup, bookshelves.

Hot showers, cheddar cheese, long kisses.

These are a few of my favourite things.

What can I say,

 I’m a sentimental old flake.

Next post Books,

I promise.

Later girls

Thanks for putting up with me.

BB

Saint-Andre, Grandmaman would have liked that.

This morning in Rome,

at the Vatican,

Le Frere André (Brother Andre),

 of St Joseph’s Oratory fame,

was made a saint.

I am not a practising Catholic,

and I never have been,

but,

like most Quebecois,

over the age of forty and born here,

I have been baptised and had my first communion.

We live in a post Catholic society,

and yet,

 St-Joseph’s Oratory,

which can hold almost two thousand people,

was full all day and all night,

leading up to the canonisation ceremony at 4h30 am,

our time.

I remember when I was a young child,

 going to the Oratory with my aunt.

It is an impressive Basilica that sits atop the Mountain, 

our Mountain, Mont-Royal.

My grandparents and I also visited Ste-Anne De Beaupré near Quebec city,

and Le Cap De La Madeleine near Trois-Rivieres(Three Rivers).

Le Cap, is a shrine to the Virgin Mary,

 and Ste Anne’s is a shrine to her mother.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because, I believe my grandmother,

 would have been delighted to see Le Frere André canonised.

These events made me think of her,

 and also of our collective history.

When Le Frere André died in 1937,

over a million people filled past his coffin in Montreal.

My grandparents amongst them,

they had not met, yet,

they met later that year,

 and married in 1939.

Brother Andre is an important symbol of our past.

A small, frail and uneducated man,

 who had a dream to build a chapel to his St-Joseph.

For the longest time,

the only heroes French Canadians had to look up to,

were Le Frere André and hockey players.

I am glad he is a Saint for all the hardworking,

small salaried, self sacrificing people,

 who came before me.

My ancestors, my people.

Although dominated and kept down by their church,

they also found comfort and solace,

 in the little doorkeeper of Notre Dame College,

who performed miracles,

they saw him as one of them,

and he was.

This canonisation is a little bit a tribute to them.

My Grandparents would have liked that.

I’m glad for them and their memory.

Later girls

BB

Every little bit, helps.

It’s raining and grey,

that’s the down side of Autumn.

Rain.

I’m siting at my desk,

which has a view of the Birch tree across the street.

The tree’s leaves are Yellow with a tinge of Orange.

My cat, The Dude, is sitting on the windowsill ,

his head in profile,

 he appears to be the same colour.

Even at his advancing age,

he’s eleven,

 he is still interested in birds and squirrels.

He and I have lived together for eight years now.

He is a sweet beast and a good friend.

I believe I have never mentioned him before,

a grave oversight,

he is an important part of my life.

Cats,

 or dogs,

if you are so inclined,

make life better, smoother.

I think it has a lot to do with unconditional love.

When the world is picking on you,

you walk in the door,

 and your four pawed friend,

is glad to see you.

You can’t beat that.

Moving on,

before you all think I have become some sort of,

strange cat lady.

Last week,

 this lovely man who comes to my store,

spoke to me about this,

 It Gets Better project.

I’m sure most of you have heard about it.

It was news to me.

After a well publicised rash of gay teen suicides,

brought on by bullying,

this project was created.

Basically,

 adults, 

gay and straight and all things in between,

record videos where they tell teens,

 that it will,

 Get Better,

 that they will survive.

That eventually you find community,

that time and patience,

makes things better.

I may be over simplifying but,

you get the gist,

right?

I applaud the effort.

I think it comes from a good place.

Reaching young people through,

You Tube and all is a no brainer,

many of them spend their lives in front of screens.

So, nothing wrong,

 with virtual role models and comfort.

When I was a teenager,

 movies and books had a big influence.

Watching, Desert Hearts,

 in which two women made love to each other,

and nobody died,

like in most previous dyke movies.

That was a seminal experience.

My parents being marginal people in their own way,

always expressed people’s right to difference.

Being Gay was fine,

different and more difficult,

but OK.

I know they worried,

 about my happiness, about my choice,

and what loving parent wouldn’t?

Of course,

 it was never a choice,

I was born,

 Butch.

I have read a lot of criticism of this project.

About how it oversimplifies the problem etc.

That familial homophobia,

 and society’s judgment of sexual minorities won’t go away,

as a result of well meaning celebrity video interventions.

Probably not, but,

it sure doesn’t hurt.

None of society’s ills and injustices,

 are rectified through one thing.

But, many little things,

 become the building blocks of change.

If this project,

 can help teens to see that being different,

 is not wrong,

just different,

well,

Bravo.

Later girls

BB

 

Life and blogging. Works in progress

It’s a beautiful sunny, crisp day.

I have to go to the laundromat today and wash the blankets for winter,

they don’t fit in the regular washer.

I used to love Mondays,

 they were ride around town,

 go for Chinese food,

 kind of days.

Unfortunately, that is now a thing of the past.

Oh well ’tis life.

The summer of hell has rescinded,

 and now I’m getting ready for winter.

I’m not a big fan of cold but,

 I love the silence that winter brings.

I have all kinds of reading and writing projects.

My other blog bookishinmtl has been sorely neglected,

I don’t think I have written anything since July.

Anyway, I have an idea for it.

I’m going to attempt to read my way through parts of,

 The Library Of America.

I will also be taking on classics I have been putting off for years,

 Memoirs Of Casanova, which I have in French,

 Les Liaisons Dangereuses and stuff like that.

I will also be doing some reviewing for kissedbyvenus.

I’m still not over my ego stomping summer disaster but,

I’m trying.

I thank the Goddess for this blog and,

 how it allows me to “talk” about my thoughts and feelings.

Also,  my friends and readers have been very supportive.

I started Cadillac Jack last night and,

I have also been reading My Year Of Meats for my book club.

Cadillac Jack seems like it’s going to be fun.

My Year Of Meats is strange,

good strange,

 I think.

I’m glad I picked it for the October installment of Book Club,

it’s a challenge and,

 I can’t give up on it because of my commitment.

So, come hell or highwater,

a review will appear November 1st.

Over the weekend,

 many of the bloggers I follow Cass at Bonjour, Cass and Buried in Print etc

participated in a read-a-thon.

I believe I wil give it a go next year.

I love this blogging thing,

but,

I still have a lot to learn,

like life,

 it is a work in progress.

Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canucks,

and a good Monday to the rest of you.

Later girls

BB

Thanksgiving, thanks Mom

It’s kind of gray and nippy this morning.

In Canada, this is Thanksgiving weekend ,

so most people get three days off.

It doesn’t apply to me,

 I always work Saturdays and have Mondays free.

In my family, Thanksgiving was never a big deal,

mom would roast a bird and,

 we would eat too much and sleep in on Monday.

Things haven’t changed much,

except for the size and the kind of bird,

these days we do chicken rather than turkey.

Turkeys are too big for two people.

As all of us get older,

 I find myself being more and more grateful for what we have.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned but,

I’m an only child.

Although, I have an extended family to whom I am close,

 and friends who are like family,

my tribe consists of my mom and I.

A couple of years ago,

 circumstances were such,

 that my mom and I moved in together.

I sort of saw it as a failure on my part,

a middle aged woman living with her mother,

 kind of lame,

I have since reconsidered.

Mom and I,

 take care of each other,

 and keep each other company,

 we ward off loneliness and,

 share chores and responsibilities.

I worry about her health,

 she worries about my happiness.

I guess we are each other’s port in a storm.

When I look around and see,

 how many people are estranged from their families,

or just plain lonely and unloved,

I know that I am loved and always have been,

I have much to be thankfull for,

thanks mom.

Later girls

BB

Toronto is nice and so are the people

I had a terrific time in Toronto.

Check me out at the Hockey Hall Of Fame.Caroline Filler

I am standing in a replica of The Habs dressing room,

 in front of my all time favorite player’s jersey.

Guy Lafleur, “the flower”

Toronto was great.

My friends were nice enough to take me all over the place.

On Saturday, we went downtown and to Kensington market.         

I got a vintage silk scarf for my mom, at a funky little shop.

Downtown we went book shopping and I picked up a book my friend suggested,

Coffee Will Make You Black.

This was at Glad Day, the gay bookstore.            

A very enjoyable afternoon.

In the evening we went to,

wait for it,

ROLLERDERBY.

It was fun,

 I never did quite figure out the rules but,

so what,

and I met more nice people.

Sunday we had a lovely breakfast at a place called Edward Levesque’s .

followed by an exploration of the Beaches and a walk on the boardwalk.

The boardwalk runs along Lake Ontario.                            

Wow, no wonder they call them the Great Lakes.

Monday was The Hall and back home on the train.

Toronto made a fabulous impression,

 it’s a big city with lots to see.

Nice neighborhood’s, nice people.

I’ll have to go back.

It took my mind off everything,

and was a genuine escape,

 in the best possible way.

I hope my friends aren’t too exhausted.

Their hospitality was fabulous. Thank you girls.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t read on the train,

 the motion made me a little nauseous when reading.

So, I’ll tell you about Wilde another time.

Later girls

BB

Toronto Bound

Still raining.

Going to Toronto for the weekend.                                              

The weather will hopefully be better there.

I’m looking forward to spending some time with friends,

 and meeting new people.

I won’t be taking my laptop,

 so, no posts for a few days.

I will be reading Wilde,

 on the train so,

 will blog about him upon return.

I will also be letting you all know my impressions of Toronto.

I don’t suppose you really get to know a city in two and a half days.

So, it will be strictly impressions.

I have never been to Toronto.

I’m not one of those people who has a bias against Toronto,

I’m ready to learn and explore.

One thing a have a pre-judgement about,

 The Maple Leafs,

they suck 🙂

In their defense,

 they have nice jerseys.               

Later girls

Have a nice weekend

Reading, or whatever.

BB

Montreal, my home

I’m from Montreal,                                            

 it’s my home.

I have lived in this city my whole life.

I love it,

and, 

sometimes I hate it.

When I’m hating it, I think anywhere would be better.

This usually happens when I read about,

 the corrupt municipal administration,

and the lack of political will.

I often despair of our future,

 crumbling infrastructures and ever increasing taxes.

It’s easy to find things I dislike,

garbage, noise, slippery sidewalks, idiot disputes about language.

But, then I walk down Ste-Catherine and feel the wind in my hair.

I hear people speaking French and English and Russian and Arab and Spanish

and many which I could not possibly identify.

The smell of grease and Szechuan pepper and hot dogs and donuts and coffee,

and I feel happy and hungry and home.

In an ever changing world,    

 it’s nice to have our spots,                      

 places that never seem to change.

You get older and places disappear, no more Eaton’s or Ben’s or St-Lawrence Bakery.

But, Schwartz’s is still there and Steer Burger and for years I have been eating falafel from Basha’s

and Tum yum soup from Soupes et Nouilles(Soups and Noodles).

When it’s sweltering hot,

 I like to sit in Dominion Square and look up at the Sun Life building,

Montreal’s first skyscraper and feel the slight breeze caused by the large buildings.

This is not a good spot in November.

I love my city and it’s Five Roses Farine sign and it’s graffitied ugly silos.

Urban rust and patina have always been charming and familiar to my eye.

Beautiful churches and ugly snack bars with orange Formica.

The old port and the Molson brewery.

East/West.

The Main.        

The croonch sound of  footsteps on snow on a really cold night.      

I love them all.

The view from the mountain and the view from the Bonaventure autoroute.

You drink beer in any bar until 3 sometimes 4 in the morning,

 and buy beer at the Dépanneur (corner store) until 11 pm.

I have never seen a Moose or a Mountie dressed in red serge ridding a horse.

I live in  a modern and decrepit North American city.

A French and multicultural city.

It’s home.

What else can I say?

Later girls

BB                                             

TV doesn’t make you stupid

OK, I gotta tell you, it’s a grey day.

Also, the Canadiens lost their 1st preparatory match,

it’s fine, it doesn’t count.

One of my great aunt’s died, she was 91, a nice long life.

So, by my usual criteria,

 and this combined with the moon and hormones.

I should be bummed and yet, I feel fine.

The fall really does seem to be bringing clarity.

I’m relieved, I was getting sick of grouchy and morose me,

I can only imagine what everyone else felt.

I have finally given up the need to “know” certain things.

Trying to understand,

 peoples thought patterns and motivations is a waste of time.

But, I have always been stubborn that way.

I think I’ll concentrate on me and the good things I have.

I’m healthy and I have good hair.

Seems like a hell of a start.

With the fall season I have been watching TV.

I know some people,

 seem to think that reading books and watching TV are mutually exclusive,

I’m not one of those people.

Although, I was raised in a bookish family, I also grew up watching TV.

I like TV and not only PBS.

Television doesn’t only rot your brain,

it can educate and entertain,

 sometimes even,

 enlighten.

Also, I find that TV is more and more for people like me,

women over the age of forty,

 it’s about time!

Some of the shows I watch,

 Private Practice, The Good Wife  are quality shows

and the main characters are all women over thirty-five.

These shows are well written and deal with many thought provoking issues.

Bonus, they usually have beautiful women in the cast.

Julianna Margulies, Kate Walsh and Amy Brenneman,

 it don’t get much hotter than that.

Mature,  smart women, some might even be described as bookish,

if we were a tad delusional 🙂

be still my heart.

If I had to pick betwen books and television , I would go with books.

But, I would miss TV.

I grew up watching it,

many of my cultural references were acquired through the “boob tube”.

So when I can’t read, I can always watch television.

It’s comfortable and familiar.

Later girls

BB