Monthly Archives: January 2013

Daily Diversion #84: Charming Gardeners

Posted on by
15

I was sick for two weeks. After a couple of days of gingerly poking my head out of the gopher hole to check on the state of the real world (was it as I remembered, or had it been transformed into an alien other?), my best friend yanked me into the sunshine of this beautiful, sunshiny January day. We were, for a few glorious hours, carefree Ladies Who Lunch. And shop. And laugh. It was blissful. Here’s Nikki, looking lovely.

The drinks are not as large as they seem.

The drinks were not as large as they seem.

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”-Marcel Proust

Counting Down to Our Burns Night Supper, Part One: The Poetry

Posted on by
22

A poetry-filled party might not sound like a lot of fun to some people, but it is the heart of any good Burns Night Supper. Without love for the famous Scottish poet, there would be no laughter and whisky-fueled merriment. It would be just another run-of-the-mill party with bland finger food and men in pants. Who wants that, when this lovely alternative is at hand? Any takers? Nah. That’s exactly what I thought. The Chef, in addition to being highly skilled at his craft, is a charming, idiosyncratic speaker. He can rock the shit out of any poet’s words, from Emily Dickinson to Allen Ginsberg. (Don’t even get me started on his ability to declaim Shakespearean monologues from memory.) In other words, even though I am a stage trained thespian and real-life professional writer, I leave the Burns Night performance-poetry up to him. If you’re wondering at this point exactly what my contribution to the evening is, other than being stunning eye candy, I won’t blame you. The Chef, he cooks. He recites poetry. What, then, does Maedez do? For starters, I help select the Robbie Burns passages that will be incorporated into the festivities. If you’re keeping score, that’s one check on my side of the ledger. Continue reading →

Daily Diversion #83: Sick Boy, My Love

Posted on by
15

The Chef is feeling a bit under the weather today, too. He’s my love, that man. His solution for the aches and pains? Sleeping under a big pile of couch cushions. I’ll let you know how well that works out.

The Sleeping Chef

The Sleeping Chef. Instagram.

“Perfect love is the most beautiful of all frustrations because it is more than one can express.”-Charles Chaplin

Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread*: Counting Down to Our Burns Night Supper

Posted on by
17

This year, Burns Day/Night falls on a Friday. Every 25th January, The Chef and I host a big, crazy, slightly debauched, energetic, delicious Burns Supper. We live to entertain but are often impeded by our schedules, so when we throw down we do it in a big way. This event is the star of our calendar, and friends old and new come from near and far to enjoy the night with us. Who doesn’t enjoy a literary-themed shindig, one bursting with amazing food, Scotch, poetry, a toasting contest, music, laughter, conversation, spiffy ladies, and gents in kilts?

Since this party is book-related, I thought I would share with you some of the preparations that go into celebrating one of my favourite nights of the year, as well as the result. Does that sound like fun, or a great bore? I’m doing it either way, so I hope you will take a chance and join me on this raucous ride!

* “But pleasures are like poppies spread,/You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;/Or like the snow falls in the river,/A moment white-then melts forever;”-Robert Burns, Tam o’ Shanter

The man who inspires one helluva celebration.

The man who inspires one helluva celebration.

A Year in Books/Day 226: The Decline of Sentiment

Posted on by
2
  • Title: The Decline of Sentiment American Film in the 1920s
  • Author: Lea Jacobs
  • Year Published: 2008 (University of California Press)
  • Year Purchased: 2011
  • Source: Half Price Books
  • About: I like film criticism that comes with a healthy side of broader cultural and intellectual analysis. It is, admittedly, how I approach the subject, and view the world in general. Before proceeding, know that this review comes with a Warning. Lea Jacobs’ writing is from the crumbling cracker school: dry and without any excess flavour. If you cannot reconcile yourself to the mere thought of reading 313 pages of humourless but acutely insightful commentary, or this review about it, then move on with your bad self. No, really. I won’t be offended. As long as you promise to come back for #227. We’re still cool, right? For the 3 of you left, where were we? Ah, yes. Her writing. If you’re passionate or curious about silent cinema, The Decline of Sentiment is worth your time. Your head will eventually fall into rhythm with her writing style, and by the end of the book you will have a more comprehensive view of the subject even if, like me, you have studied and written about it for years. Continue reading →