The Banal Chew

Goodtime Thursday

Zane has Training Band rehearsals at 7:30am on Thursdays.  That's early, but Mark and I always view it as an opportunity to have breakfast together after dropping him off.  There's a cafe close to Zane's school that is our usual spot.  The nice women behind the counter know our orders by heart (a long black with a shot of cold milk on the side and a large skim lattee...you figure out who gets who).  Despite the tragic art on the walls, we love it there. 

This morning our usual Thursday good-time was further enhanced by the presence of two of our favorite Kiwis, Jiffy and Jase!  Jason, fresh from his graveyard shift, was pretty perky, especially in his bad-ass beanie.  We hadn't seen Jiffy in months.  It was good to catch up.  He's such a spunk.  His partner, John (another American, by the way), is no slouch either.  Sweet fellas and sweet company.

  Jase, moi, Jiffy at Cafe Ottimo

Then out to Mark's mum's for a quick visit.  She's recently had some fairly major surgery but is doing amazingly well.  Bloss and Kye were there, too.  That's fortunate, because it's always good to see them, but I also got to update my Kye photos with something recent!

  Kye with Uncle Sandy

Coming back home we drove a route that took us across the Anzac Bridge.  I do the Sydney Harbour Bridge quite often, so it's fun to take its brother bridge just to the West.  They're strikingly dissimilar, and each has its own unique charm.

 
Driving across the Anzac Bridge from Sydney's Inner West

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Oh, my God.  The Internet can be a scary place.

Tumble for me

Unpoetic metaphor

Affable YouTube Monday

Kathleen Battle, Over My Head
Rufus Wainwright, Going to a Town

Tries and Scrums and Rucks, oh my!

This morning, I watched Mark play with the Sydney Convicts rugby team at a local sports oval. (They won, 19 to 7.)

Mark (No. 18) in action

It was one of those blissful Sydney mornings. Not a cloud in sight, a scant autumn chill in the air that disappeared as soon as you stepped into the sunshine. Fallen leaves crunching underfoot. Children enveloped in fleece jumpers, running gleefully in the park as their parents warn them not to stray too far. Dogs leaping, bounding, sniffing and pissing.  I took Roger.  His new buddy, Ralph, was there, too, along with about a half-dozen other dogs.

Ralph takes a little time-out.

I sat with Kevin and Brad, and we all watched our hubbies do their thing on the field. We are affectionately called "rugby wives," a term I used to have mixed feelings about. That's probably some pesky internal homophobia still hanging around. I thought I'd got rid of it years ago. Sigh.  Anyway, I have to admit the phrase has grown on me, and I am happy to be a part of that select few.

Fellow rugby wives, Kevin and Brad

Tonight is a party at Brad & Dean's to celebrate the many May birthdays among us, particularly Deano's, which was Thursday. After that, we'll all hit Oxford Street, no doubt. (Clubbing's in the air...doo doo doo, doo doo doo....) All is well, though; we haven't all had a big night out since Mardi Gras.  And someone did say once that although life isn't always the party any of us expected, we should certainly dance while we're here! I plan to.

Flashforward Friday

I have a wish-list for the future.  It grows each time I read the headlines. 
I hope that one day I have the chance to reformat it as a check-list.

• Windmills and greenhouses everywhere
• No crying children
• Smiles for all the right reasons
• Respect for human rights unrestrained by the limitations of brutish politics
• Less fundamentalism and more pacifism
• More women in big-business and civic arenas
• The return of the arts to school curricula
• No guns

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toothpastefordinner.com

Admiring Björk

I've made it a point to have more fun with friends. Today, it was breakfast with Jason and Kevin at a local bistro, Danks Street Depot.  Thanks for breakie, guys!

Jase and Kevin with a post-breakfast buzz

I have been a huge fan of Björk for a long time. A few years ago it probably bordered on obsession, but after all, "fan" (in this context) comes from "fanatic." There's something about her artistry that I find ultimately compelling. Like others at university during the 1980s, I was captivated by her voice when I first heard her as a member of the Sugarcubes. Who was this crazy, evocative band with the wild pixie squealing songs like F^cking in Rhythm and Sorrow and Hetero Scum? I wasn't sure, but I loved them, and moreover, I loved her.

A number of years went by. Then one evening I was standing with some friends in an annoying bar on 17th Street in D.C. when on the giant video screen appeared a small woman in a long white dress, her hair bunched on her skull in large nubian knots. She was dancing on the back of a flat-bed truck as it traveled down the busy streets of Manhattan. And she was singing one of the best songs I'd heard in long time. I recognized the voice instantly. Talk about big-time sensuality. My senses were flooded with a mix of longing and excitement. I moved closer to the gargantuan video screen until I was enveloped in the light and sound.

Because the intervening years between university and my eventual move to D.C. had been completely occupied with voice studies, auditions, rehearsals and performances, I had become entirely out of touch with any non-classical music. My life revolved around landing gigs and studying the trills and roulades of Baroque music. Seeing Björk prancing on that truck brought something back to me, and I reconnected with a voice I'd missed.

I began collecting Björk's recordings and videos. I Gophered (remember those days?) with an international Björk fan-club, and even had a few VHS tapes of Björk miscellanea (which I fondly labelled Björk-o-rama vols. 1, 2 and 3) sent to me from some guys in London. At the time, she enjoyed a much wider popularity in Europe. I began to make frequent trips to Tower Records and began snapping up nearly everything she released. It was official. I was a fanatic.

It wasn't until October 2001 that I got to see her live. I was living in Burlington, Vermont by this time with my former partner, also a Björk fan (thankfully). We drove from Burlington to Toronto to see her on the Vespertine concert tour. The swan dress be damned, it was an unforgettable experience. I had spent so many years missing her concerts, as they either sold out before I could get tickets or took place in cities that I couldn't get to for whatever reason. But then, finally, I got to see this woman up close. No longer did I have to admire her from afar. After that concert, my obsession faded. I still followed her music and career, and I continued to acquire her recordings and videos, but for some reason the voracity with which I had consumed her work diminished. I hadn't by any means lost interest, but I was content to move from fanatical enthusiast to seasoned devotee.

Someday I'll write about what fuels my attraction to this woman and her music. For now, I'm happy to know she's still writing and producing, and that my fondness for the artist continues to ripen.

  Earth Intruders (courtesy AtlanticVideo & YouTube)

Roger's New Neighbor

Today, Roger and I met up with Deano and Ralph at the local dog-park-o'-choice.  Ralph is a 6-month-old yellow Labrador Retriever, and he's a joy.  Brad and Dean just adopted him  (rescued him, really) on Friday of last week, and considering, 1) his newness to the household and surroundings, and 2) the fact that he'd been fairly neglected during his first few months out of the womb, he's doing remarkably well.  Then again, he's a Lab, one of the cleverest breeds around.  Roger loves him already, but what's not to love?  We're happy to welcome him as neighbor...and family!

Roger greets Dean and Ralph as they arrive at the park

Pet-rissage

I'm a certified small animal massage practitioner.  I've been teaching Kiwi some massage techniques.  Here she is practicing on her "sister", Bonnee.

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Rest in Peas

 

(...big rotten, stinky, moldy ones)

Floating

First of all, thank you for your thoughtful e-mails and postings over the past week and a half.  They mean a lot. 

We all know that life presents some daunting challenges from time to time.  At best, we encounter them with courage, manage them with grace, and exit them with wisdom. At worst, we buy completely into the modern idiom of the celebrity status assigned to the victim and milk the situation for all it's worth without confronting the underlying problems. I've certainly hopped from one camp to the other...seen the world from both sides now, as it were. Now I'm hovering. With any luck, I'll plop right down on a yummy cushion of buffalo grass, avoiding most of the spiny thicket on the way.

In another vein, have you listened to Joss Stone's new CD yet?  I like it a lot. I wish she and James Morrison would sing together. 

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Getting there

Bear with me.