I am Your Man, Leonard.

Last night, the Queen of my heart opted to rally the troops in a last ditch effort at exiting the city. Four girls (including myself) sun dress clad and bejeweled jumped into Christie's tiny clown car and took off for Gimli. When we weren't mouthing the words to Hanson, we were off in a field or dancing on hay bails grabbing hold of every opportunity to embrace life and light outside of the city limits. Amy gal's gal knows that making a bazillion stops along te way to any destination is inevitable and we ended up taking a bazillion rolls of film in the fading light every time we pulled over. Chasing the tail end of the sunset, we arrived in the very quiet beach town only to stumble upon a greasy spoon called 'Europa', home to a host of terrible hard ice cream flavors and the biggest hotdogs I have ever seen! Anyway, Christie, Janelle, Nikaela and myself ended up seeing Leonard Cohen' "I am Your Man" on the beach at the film festival. There is something to be said for the softness of smoking clove cigarettes and eating ice cream in the sand, wind in the hair and Rufus in the ears. Every moment was bronzed golden and I could have stayed there forever. I thought of Erin wholly and completely and the orange lightening and sea air only added to my nostalgia. What a day. There is hardly a way to pay any homage at all (To who? Leonard? The full moon? The hotdog lady?), but I left feeling very alive and well. In the words of Leonard himself,

"Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love"

You should have been here Fritz.
Frances.

Peach Plum Pear.

Today, while at work at Fresh Café, a semi-deaf elderly gentleman in a plaid waistcoat came in and sat himself in my meagre section. At eighty-four he had the sparkliest eyes I had ever seen. We flirted relentlessly; him over the rim of his ever-empty coffee cup and me batting modest eyelashes through lensless frames. We had to yell and hand signal at one another in order to make a proper breakfast order and I blushed whenever he grabbed for my giant hands. While the situation was a tad unconventional in terms of age gap, I (kind of) fell in love today. It was a nice lesson to learn. He winked and called me 'Missy' and I felt gangly and very young and a feeling that was half foreign and half familiar. I thought it was worth writing.

Today I really miss Yosh. This is for him (come home [soon]).

Love, Cindy Forever

Jane Siberry is my lover.

Today I am heavily into honey roasted peanuts and Jane Siberry on vinyl. I feel like celebrating now that the relentless heat has broken, but what to do? What to do? Ballet in the park. One word, free. I am heavily dropping the blogging ball. I am off to find a giant map for under one dollar. Times are tough and I am in desperate need of an art project.

Away, away, away; Frances.

A Date with Deshtiny.

First and foremost, the entire notion of blogging is very foreign to me. This first post is a collection of photographs spanning the month of July, 2007. From an art premiere to a date with my pseudo husband and lover Alfie; to a wild photo shoot with Creme in his bedroom involving about fourteen different lens and limitless rolls of film; to a camping trip to Falcon Lake with ma famille (including a guest babe appearance by Jaime and Bramwell who camped in our backyard on the same said trip); and one hell of a backyard garage sale recap hosted by the lovely ladies fanning themselves with their earnings, Lo and Cara. Enjoy gems.