Books That Are Old Friends

There are readers, and then there are readers, and then there are READERS. I think I am the middle one. I used to think I was the bolded-type version, but have since realized I am not. The bold type is reserved for people who will read anything and everything they can get their hands on, including philosophical rants, biographies of every important political figure who has ever lived, and anything else that they feel may add to their personal knowledge of the world. I am not that type. Nor am I the type who is content to read the paper, whatever is on the Oprah recommended list, and Cosmo.

I am somewhere in the middle. I love to lose myself in a really great book, that sweeps me away into another time, place, or life. Even as a little girl I loved this type of escapist fiction, that could completely capture my imagination so that I felt that I was not just walking in someone else's shoes, but breathing their air. And then, when I have found these gems, I return to them at times to experience the ecstacy again.

I got all caught up watching Michael Crawford on youtube last weekend and decided to reread Phantom. I believe my cousin introduced me to this book, right after I saw the musical and read Gaston Lereux's work. He was always passing me good books then - we were both at a time in our lives when we had lots of leisurely hours available to us, to pour over novels, or stay up all night absorbing page after gripping page.

Written by Susan Kay, the historical novelist who also wrote Legacy (historical fiction about the life of Elizabeth I), it is a much more expansive and personal story than the one told by Lereux, or any film or theatrical version of the story. It tracks the Phantom character (Erik) through the eyes and minds of various other characters, including his mother, and his mentor. It tells an addicting tale of how this man became who he was by the time he reached the point at which we usually meet him, in other versions of the story.

Loving it again...highly recommend it...so dark, and brutal, and beautiful.

Little Old My Fair Ladies

A girl in the drama program at my school is currently in a production of My Fair Lady at St. Peter's Anglican Church. They are great neighbours to our school as well, so between wanting to support the student and wanting to foster a good relationship with the church and St. Peter's Players, off I went tonight to the show.
Before I say too much, I should preface this by saying that my mom FORCED me to watch MFL on film in my tweens (so about 3 years ago...j/k), though I protested loudly. Of course, I instantly fell in love with it, just like when she forced me to watch Camelot. A lot of people are in love with MFL, and Audrey Hepburn, so I must say that it is one of those musicals that I would never want to tackle because it is so beloved.
That being said, the St. Peter's Players did a great job tonight. I thought many of the performances were outstanding, considering how challenging a script it is. I don't really want to review the show though. I want to mention the AUDIENCE.
Oh my annoying goodness.
So, I seem to draw people to me in dark public spaces that like to be as grating as possible. At the movies, at plays, at concerts, whatever. This happens because of the energy that I put into CARING about audience behaviour, which is a lot. If I didn't care, it wouldn't happen to me. I know this.
Needless to say, yet again I got some goodies. Four very sweet-looking and charming-acting little older ladies sat behind me tonight. At first I found them adorable as I eavesdropped on their pre-show banter. They all had UK accents of varying sorts (who doesn't love that?) and seemed to be great friends.
Then the show started.
I knew there would be trouble when they started talking about the actors and how they looked, and who was funny, and so on. Then that died down, and the first Eliza Doolittle number came along. "All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air..."
Well, let me tell you, all I wanted was some duct tape for the mouths of four little old ladies, who BEGAN TO SING ALONG. I tried to breathe through it. The song ended, then they were pretty well behaved again until the next Eliza song came along. By the time we got to "I Could Have Danced All Night", I had accepted my fate.
I respect that they love the show. I love the show. I love a lot of shows. I can sing along in my head, in fact, I can recite the lines to several, but that's where it stays. IN MY HEAD. I cannot tell you the strength of will it took not to shush them. I am super proud of myself for not doing it, but it took pounds of patience, I can tell you.
Please, please, please people, do not sing along, talk about the costumes through all of the major production numbers, open twizzlers during intense love scenes, commentate throughout the entire show on every action taken by every character, or do any of the other super annoying audience behaviours that make me want to push eject on your seat, and watch with glee as you are cannoned into the air, never to be heard from again. Please. Musical theatre is lots of fun. If you want to sing along, rent it on video and WATCH IT AT HOME. The rest of us totally appreciate it. Cheers!

Nanton Adventures

My mom called me earlier and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch and a walk. She would drive north from Lethbridge and I would drive south from Calgary to Nanton. I suggested bringing our dogs to get them an extra shot of the outdoors too. Great plan, right?

Until about 30 minutes out of Calgary my BRAND NEW PASSENGER REAR TIRE GOES FLAT. Okay, this sucks, but I try to remain calm and call AMA. I get a recording which states I can either stay on HOLD on my cell phone, or they will call me back in 33 minutes. 33 minutes! I am in the shoulder of the highway with my dog! So have to swallow my pride and call Matt. After some convincing he agreed to be my knight in shiny KIA, came out and changed to the spare. Just when he arrives, AMA calls to say it will be about an HOUR! THere is no blizzard, like what is the deal?? I say ok, just in case we can't do the tire change ourselves for some reason. I hang up, Matt's done, and I am on my way down the road, now only capable of driving 90 the rest of the way. Over the next 20 minutes, AMA calls repeatedly and I try to figure out how to cancel the truck order. It got so silly that I finally talked to a manager and said, "You know, trying to get ahold of you guys is a gong show." Do you know they suggest that to cancel a truck order, you email them? Yah, I am going to send a freaking email from the shoulder of Hwy 2. Seems like a great little plan.

Anyway, finally did make it to Nanton. Wanted to show you a pic of the Wild Thyme Cafe where mom and I had lunch, but can't find one anywhere, nor do they have a web site. Someone needs to help with that: web designers out there get to it! It was pretty decent foodwise, and we even found a park for our walk and chat. Then putted back home on my sad little spare tire. Life is always an adventure. :)

Waterslides & Heaven

For a few moments as I was flipping channels, I saw "My Girl" on one of those movie channels. At the beginning the little cutie describes heaven. For her, there are white ponies and friends. I had a sudden flashback, and remembered something.

I remember being on vacation with my parents. At the time, and to this day, I was in love with water. Loved to swim, and just be IN water, like a mermaid. That's what they called me. Anyway, I suddenly remembered the day that I SERIOUSLY said to my mother, "If there are no waterslides in heaven, I don't want to go there. There must be, don't you think?"

I just love the feeling of anticipation at the top of the slide, the adrenaline rush as I go down, and the sensation of the water hitting my flesh when I plunge in at the end. That is HEAVEN.

Sir Laurence Olivier & Wuthering Heights

I just caught the end of Wuthering Heights on TCM, and as usual, sobbed like a little girl who has scraped her knee. I read Wuthering Heights as a young girl, and it was one of the first books that I couldn't read straight through. It is just so brutal. The movie of course, is a completely different entity, and while Merle Oberon is okay, and David Niven is his charming self, the real jewel in the 1939 film is Olivier. First of all, I can't think of a single current "movie star" that can touch him in looks or raw (very trained, actually) talent. He moves through the film with such harsh beauty and fiery vengeance. He is just the epitome of a character actor. I could watch him light up the screen for hours, and he maintained that not just in his beautiful youth, but all throughout his career. Even as an old man, he posessed a presence that you could not tear your eyes from. Pair that with Charlotte Bronte's gut-wrenching lines ("How can I live without my life? How can I die without my soul?" Come on, does melodrama get any better than that? Uh, no.) and you have a film that rips you into pieces every single time. Love it. LOVE IT!!

Party Experiments

There is a reason why it's never a good idea to make a new recipe for a party, without trying it first. Today I bought beverages and food for my teacher party. I decided to try the ratatouille recipe that I was planning to make, just to be sure. All I can say is YYYUUUCCCKKK. Okay, it was not exactly yuck. But it is like...a side dish. It is sauteed and stewed vegetables, for goodness sakes, and I don't know about you, but thyme, basil, and cayenne is the most BORING flavour combination on the face of the earth. It is not simple enough to be elegant and not difficult enough to provide complex dynamics. Pass me the curry!! I honestly can't figure out what the big fuss is over ratatouille. It's like poor person's stew. Blech. So, while plans for all the other food are finalized, the main dish is still up in the air. My new plan is to do an elegant and grown-up version of sloppy joes. Chilis, honey, mustard, hot peppers...NOW we are talking about flavour I can get behind. 7 different beans, and lots of cheese...mmmm...and I am thinking of wraps instead of buns. Keep the bread down, and also easier to eat than a traditional sloppy joe.

I also gave Matthew several options for the "Signature" Party Drink, including Sidecar, Painkiller, and complex Scotch melanges. He CHOSE a traditional bellini, so I bought the Italian version of champagne - Prosecco - and apricot Brandy. Just trying a little tiny one now, and mmmm....I think it would be divine over shaved ice, so that is the plan. The photo above is Paris Hilton's new ad campaign for a Prosecco that is in a CAN (the Italian winemakers of the past are rolling over in their graves). Say what you will about her, but a steady diet of pills, water, air, and cocaine clearly has its benefits.

Commentary on Valentine's Day

I know that Valentine's Day is a completely made-up holiday, but I have always loved it. I appreciate that it falls in February, which is an otherwise dreary month if you live in Calgary. It's cold and you know that there are still seven official weeks of winter left, but could be more like twelve. Blech.

But then we have this cute, goofy little day stuck in there somewhere, associated with the bright and beautiful colour RED, and (my personal favourite part) roses, and it just perks up the whole month. Plus, you can use it to send really cheesy sentiments, not just to that one particular person, but all your friends, colleagues, or family members who have the temperament to tolerate such unabashed giddiness. One should always look for opportunities to send their friends cards with images of cherubim, lace, toile, and like Ralph says on the Simpsons's, cards that ask you to Choo-Choo-Choose Me. Or, if you are determined to go the other way, you can have an equally great time bashing V-Day in the form of a gathering, party, or etc. Although I have NEVER heard of an Anti-Valentine's Day Party anywhere near as raging as the one in the actual movie.

Love it or hate it, it's just one more reason to have a little more fun in life.