EDMONTON OUTLAW HAS MOVED!

Hi all:

Please find me at my new site:   www.stephanielaskoski.com

Thanks,
Steph

Karma Is Gonna Getcha!

So, just the other day, I was joyfully announcing how I planned to completely skip a visit to the dentist before we depart on our world adventure because I have nearly perfect teeth.

What an idiot.

Needless to say, just last night I bit into a bite of delicious roasted lamb with pine-nut stuffing, and OUCH.  My goddamned tooth hurts.

*sob*

And I thought life was supposed to be fair.

Yann We Can!

I attended the Alberta Writer's Guild Gala last Friday night, and was so thrilled and inspired to be surrounded by such talented people.  Despite the fact that I have only really dabbled in writing either through creative writing courses or various writing groups, I will likely never identify as a writer.   An easy identity to assume of course, is that of a reader, which I am.

I was at the gala to support Lee Kvern's short-story nomination.  She and I met in Cochrane at the Writer's Group held at the public library.  It was run by Marina Endicott, whose name you should either recognize or become familiar with, pronto!  Lee is a great writer, and has gone on to publish several works.  Marina is also excellent, and has been published and showered with awards.  I am a mediocre writer, and now keep a blog.

The attendance at the gala was very impressive, and I admit, I was also pleasantly surprised at the number of members of various levels of government present.  Mayor Mandel, Don Iveson, Ben Henderson and David Swann showed up.  More astonishing was the appearance by the Deputy Minister of Culture who spoke and stayed for the whole thing!  This is a rare occurrence.  Political folks always seem to have more than one event to attend and are usually dashing in and sprinting out.  So, this should alert you to the uniqueness of the event.

I was also delighted to get my "Waiting For Columbus" book signed by Thomas Trofimuk.  I LOVED this book.  I have been working really hard to read local authors these past few months, and I have to say that Edmonton has an amazing collection of storytellers.  I attended the Artery Literary Saloon when Thomas read from this book, and it was difficult for me to determine whether I would like it or not, so I didn't immediately buy it.  But then, when I read that Trofimuk had been nominated for the Edmonton Book Award, I reconsidered.  It was a brilliant decision, if I say so myself.

I was truly unprepared for how thoughtful and profound the book turned out to be.  I also had a preconceived notion that because it was loosely based on Christopher Columbus, it would somehow fall into the "Historical Fiction" category, which I am not particularly fond of.  But I was wrong.  It was relevant and sensitive and tragic.  It's a gem so I insist that it be read!

Thus, it is in the spirit of great literature that I added another dimension to our family trip around the world.  Jeff and I recently attended Yann Martel's reading at the Pioneer Cabin, and it was splendid.  Martel's new book "Beatrice and Virgil" is extraordinary.  I know, I'm a gusher, but I've never purported to be any kind of book reviewer, so gush on I shall.

Though we were in attendance to hear mainly about Martel's new book, there was mention of his other book entitled, "What is Stephen Harper Reading?" which is a collection of books and blurbs Yann Martel has sent to our Prime Minister in the hopes of inspiring "stillness" and expanding the man's literary horizon.  It comes as no surprise that Monsieur Harper has not responded, let alone acknowledged these gifts.  It's appalling.  And to add insult to injury, Barack Obama wrote Yann Martel a handwritten note to say he and his daughter loved "Life of Pi."  Way to go Harper.  As usual.

My disdain is irrelevant.  What is relevant?  That Jeff and I have taken on the challenge to read every book Yann Martel recommends to the Prime Minister.  I have ordered them all.  The credit card is weeping.  We will have them sent to us in bundles, along with the girls' home-schooling materials.  Can you imagine how fun this will be?  I am seriously jazzed!

Please check out the reading list here.  And do keep in mind that we are using Martel's book as a reference point, which has only 55 books.  His website includes 81 at this point, but we are just not that ambitious/insane.  Check out the list!  How many have you read?

Sublime Sunday

What constitutes a perfect Sunday?

Today, mine consisted of planting watermelon seeds in the raised bed with my kids and absorbing their eternal optimism that the watermelons will actually grow.  Coaching a soccer game in the sunshine and observing the kids soaking up the heat, despite being annihilated 11-0.  Napping on cool white sheets while Jeff  quietly watches golf.   Smoking a cigar on the front deck and listening to the birds chirp .  Playing The Beatles' White Album while eating well-done BBQ'd hamburgers.  Daughters that love the song "Blackbird" and sing along while eating aforementioned hamburgers.  A cold glass of Prosecco with dinner.  And finally, a standing date to watch LOST with the neighbours on Sunday nights.

*BLISS*

Identity Much?

It occurred to me today, just how much "what we do" for a living defines us.  It's not like I am completely ignorant to this, but I certainly haven't spent too much time pontificating the matter.  Until today.  Last night Jeff and I attended the "Good Neighbour Awards" held by the City of Edmonton because the neighbour we nominated actually won.  It was an interesting affair held at the Santa Maria Goretti Centre.  Of course, it required meeting several new people, which I generally love, except when the conversation begins like this:  "So Stephanie, what do you do?"

Gulp.  Good question.

I usually try to invent snappy responses in my mind beforehand that I fantasize about trying on strangers that will stun them into silence:

"I'm a forensic accountant."

"I'm a mortician's assistant."

"I'm an escort.  He's my client" (motion to husband).

"I'm a demi-god; my father is Zeus."

And so on.  And I do this because it is nearly impossible to define what it is I do, in one snappy sentence.  You may ask yourself, why care so much?  Don't worry, I've pondered that, too.  It turns out that knowledge of what someone does is a touching point for everyone in order to feel like they are learning something significant about the other person, which in actuality, is a lot of bolshevik.

Yet it bothers me.  It has become a bit of a burden, actually.  I agonize over whether I am truly contributing simply because I have no dineros to substantiate my activities.  When this happens, I am reduced to keeping a running tally of my accomplishments during the day, which is quite pathetic, especially when one of these accomplishments is simply walking the dog.

But I also recognize my responsibility in this tortured, internal monologue.  Please self, make it stop!

On a similar thread, my friend Lea wrote a very interesting analysis of "Mother's Day."  You can find it here.   Dear, Sweet Women:  sometimes we are our own worst misogynists!


 

Leaving Makes Me Love You More

The idea to write an ode to my daily routine awoke me in the night.  Now that we are planning to temporarily depart from this fair city come fall, I have become ridiculously sentimental about it.  For instance, when Ruthie, my faithful lab companion, woke me up about 5:30am to take her out to the park, I bounded out of bed with excited anticipation.


A little background might explain my enthusiasm:  this year, my New Year's Resolution was to take the dog out each morning and meet up with some other Riverdalians.  Jeff had already established the relationship, but had fallen out of the habit once the temperatures plummeted to the minus twenties.  But others carried on, despite the group dwindling to two people from five or six.  Jeff always valued the time he spent with these folks, so I thought I would give it a go.    


So, now I meet with the dwindled-two in my neighbourhood every morning at 6:30 to let our dogs rip around, eat sticks, and sometimes, each other's poop. I have started to refer to them as my "morning family."  We've been through so much together in this short time!  We talk about everything in between cooing at each  other's dogs and concentrating on not getting knocked over by running dog-torpedoes.   And my middle-of-the-night epiphany has alerted me to how much I will miss them once we've gone.  I hope they won't forget me; or worse, replace me!


One last ode to my routine is the elation I am going to feel once I don't have to make bagged lunches for my kids anymore.  I am actually considering starting an official count-down clock to the day I can stop.  I know it sounds terribly whiney, but constructing a creative yet healthy meal-in-a-bag every day for my kids is wearing thin.  I am at the point now where I just huck stuff in their bags like canned corn, a fork and a can opener.  So, it's probably a good idea to have a sabbatical from that madness.


   

THE FUTURE - Part V

Deadlines can be a wonderful thing. After much discussion about "the future", we decided to give ourselves a date that would firmly result in a decision about our departure.


The firm date was April 30th, and I am shocked to report that we have officially decided to depart this coming September.  What started as a rather abstract dream will soon be realized.


To make things really official, I booked our appointments at the Capital Health Travel Clinic.  Nothing like a few vaccinations to seal the deal.  Thus far, it looks like we will be getting shots for Malaria, Yellow Fever, cholera, Hepatitis A & B, Tetanus and so on.  In some ways, I am more terrified of the needles than the actual exposure to the various diseases.


With vaccinations and departure dates comes itineraries.  I am proud to say it hasn't really changed since the beginning, except to add wonderful new countries along the way.  Here it is, in order:


England
France
Spain
Portugal
Morocco
Tunisia
Sicily
Greece
Turkey
Israel
Jordan
Egypt
Kenya
Tanzania
Zanzibar
Seychelles
Goa
Thailand
Vietnam
Cambodia
Australia
New Zealand
Fiji
Hawaii
Argentina
Peru
Ecuador
Costa Rica
Belize


One thing we really want to emphasize is that we would love for friends/family to join us on parts of this tour.  So, if there is a country you've been yearning to see, why not meet us there?


My latest fret is about footwear.  Which pair of shoes should I bring?  I refuse to wear runners, and I further refuse to wear "walking shoes."  At the moment, I am convinced that my Frye boots that are old and worn would be the perfect choice, even in the hottest weather.  They would be particularly suited for hiking where snakes and other ankle biting creatures lurk.  But then I think that only one pair of flip-flops ought to do until I remember that we will be in London in the fall, and that is generally not a flip-flop climate.  Oy vey; Decisions, decisions.


I recently finished a book called "360 Degrees Latitude," about a family that traveled around the world for a year.  In preparation, they brought out one box each and placed it in the living room to fill leading up to their departure.  This method seemed to work well because once it was full, that was it, you couldn't bring anything else.  It gave everyone in the family the opportunity to put things in, consider the choice, and keep it, or replace it with something else.  I think I will do the same thing for only me because I am going to be the one choosing unnecessary items in our clan.


For instance, we were walking through a book store the other day and I decided we will all need LED book lights, just in case we want to read in the middle of the night in the Seregeti.  Jeff grabbed them out of my hands and exclaimed, "This is exactly the kind of crap we are NOT taking on our trip!"  I was really shocked because I thought my choice was completely practical and contained quite a bit of foresight, but every person I ask tells me that Jeff is right.  


So, I have trudged to the basement and retrieved a box.  The first item I  plan to put in is tampons because another major fret is that I will be unable to acquire my particular brand in, say, Cairo.  But I have a feeling they, too, will not make the cut.      


       

Top 100: Ten at a Time #90-#81

90.  "Bram Stoker's Dracula"  Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

I still remember rushing to buy tickets to this movie on opening night.  It was 1992, and I was working at the "Gourmet Cup" in Edmonton Centre, and used my lunch break to wait in the line up.  The movie was excellent, even with both Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves playing important roles (I wish there was a function to write "important roles" with a fake British accent, in an attempt to emulate both Ryder & Reeves, but alas).  Gary Oldman and Sadie Frost stole the show and the soundtrack played a huge part in that.  It is both scary and erotic, and I recommend listening to it before bed.


89.  "The Philosopher Kings"  The Philosopher Kings


Another album that I loved whilst working in a coffee bar!  A co-worker named Rita was slightly obsessed with this band, in a stalking sense.  Rita played it at the cafe constantly, and I developed a real appreciation for this talented group.  These guys wrote their own songs, and were excellent musicians.  I recommend the song "lay my body down."


88. "Drag"  K.D. Lang


I know that everyone agrees K.D. Lang is magnificent, and most of us have been (over) exposed to her voice through the cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah."  Sure, it's an incredible song, sung by a gal with pipes that never fail to amaze, and her album, "The 49th Parallel" is good, too.  But "Drag" is better.  It is also an album of cover tunes, but they are all about smoking.  And as a fan of the mighty cigarette, I have such a deep affection for this collection.  In particular, "Don't Smoke in Bed" and "My Old Addiction" are worth listening to while sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, with a tumbler of rye and an ashtray filled with butts.


87.  "God"  Johnny Cash


Maybe it's age, but contemplative songs about God really appeal to me.  This collection has such songs, but it also has some excellent gospel standards.  Johnny can sing about God and not make it sound awkward.  He is gifted with the ability to sing songs that project such earnestness, you just can't believe it.  My recommendation on this one is "Were You There (When They Crucified My Lord)."


86.  "Simple Things"  Zero7


Moody, electric and zen-like, "Simple Things" is an album that has three or four outstanding tunes, and the rest makes for good sorbet between songs.  As it happens, I love the tunes sung by Sia Furler.  It's a record you can put on just about anytime, anywhere.  


85.  "The Singles"  The Pretenders


Oh, Chrissy!  I love your rebel look with the black eyeliner that's difficult to see because of your long black bangs.  Oh right, and your voice!  It's pretty impossible to choose a favourite song on this one, but certainly "2000 Miles" and "I Go To Sleep" are two of the best.  


84.  "Sleepy Little Sailor"  Oh Susanna


Well, this is pretty much as exquisite as it gets.  Susie writes some remarkable songs and her voice is one of the most incredible ones out there.  I love the cover of Otis Redding's "I've Got Dreams to Remember" and "Sacrifice" is so painful and stunning, I can barely listen to it unless I'm sitting down.  


83.  "Master and Everyone"  Bonnie 'Prince' Billy


I first heard this record at my friend Vince's house in McCauley.  I'd completely dropped in on him and he was in the midst of remodeling, so was covered in paint and dust from sandpapering the walls.  But he was so gracious and sat me down, got me a coffee, and put this album on for me to listen to while he cleaned up.  And wow, I was instantly enchanted.  Will Oldham sings in the most understated way yet not so understated that you ignore it.  In fact, the bareness of his voice emphasizes the vocals and gives the listener a real opportunity to hear what he's saying.  I really like "ain't you wealthy, ain't you wise?"


82.  "Laughing Stock"  Talk Talk


Honestly, Talk Talk is one of my favourite bands of all time.  I think Mark Hollis has one of the best emoting voices of all time.  It's nearly impossible to describe this album.  It's very experimental and unique, and isn't at all like any of their other records.  The best track is "Ascension Day."


81.  "Tidal"  Fiona Apple


I remember, plain as day, buying this CD from HMV when it was in the basement of Eaton Centre.  I bought it on a whim, and never regretted it.  I think Fiona Apple is a bit of a nutter, but to me, that just increases her appeal.  Her voice is sooty and her lyrics are clever.  A perfect recipe for excellent music.  I like "The Child is Gone" and "Sullen Girl."   


    THE END (for now)

Not-A-Lawyer

Well, the news finally arrived that I was unsuccessful in attaining admittance to law school.  For those of you that don't know it, I have been attempting to get in to law for three years now, and have taken the LSAT three times, composed three different yet profound personal statements, bribed nine interesting people write me glowing reference letters and submitted three marginally updated resumes.   Despite it all, rejection!

Of course, the first thought in my head was, "that was a terrific waste of three years of my life."  But after watching today's very enlightening episode of "The Young and the Restless," I have quelled my feelings of failure.   The show featured a character who quotes the Dali Lama to diminish his despair, which initially made me snicker, but in my vulnerable state, also, unbelievably, inspired me.  It goes, "Remember: not getting what you want is sometimes a remarkable stroke of luck."  Can you believe I heard it on a soap opera?  Long live the daytime stories for they bring clarity to the commoners!

Yet amidst the feelings of inspiration lies the reality that the world has become my oyster, and I have real panic about this.  Suddenly, I can pick something else to become, and it is more difficult that I anticipated.  After spending a decade at home raising my girls and recently completing an undergraduate degree, I find myself flailing to fit somewhere, without much success.  I long to work and be a part of something valuable.  I fantasize about earning a pay-cheque.  I yearn for chats around the water-cooler.  I want to wear high heels every day.  I think it would be fun to go to Maxwell Taylor's for Happy Hour long island iced teas and free snacks every Thursday.  I just want to be amongst the people.

So, I will scour soaps for insight and consider my future as not-a-lawyer.  Meanwhile, productive lawyer people will do productive lawyer things without me.  For who will be there to dispense Dali Lama sage advice when they are in a pickle, standing around the water-cooler, pay-cheque in purse, sporting brand new high heels, on their way to Maxwell Taylor's?  Not me, I guess.



 



 

 

Gimme Shelter (Or- The Future #4)

Though there have been a number of psychological setbacks, we are back to planning our year-long trip abroad. There have been some major changes, and I expect there will be more, but the plan is really coming together, and I am beginning to feel more confident about the whole thing.

The strangest part of planning such an abstract vision is having it actually realized. But now that we know it will occur within a year or so, I have been having trouble grounding myself. Even still, as we unfold the world map before us on the kitchen table and discuss countries we'd like to visit, it never sinks in that we will one day actually visit them.

On our way home from the airport a few weekends ago, Jeff and I got to discussing luggage and what might be required for such a journey. I had envisioned all of us with smart little back-packs and hard-sided carry-on sized matching luggage. I stated as much. Jeff shook his head and asked me whether I had considered that I might need to use my bag as a pillow at some point during the trip, and thus, I ought to reconsider the hard exterior of my carry-on. This immediately brought images of the four of us sleeping in road-side ditches somewhere in Arusha, Tanzania. I freaked. And it made me understand that it was possible we had completely different visions of this trip.

It's not like I need to be endlessly pampered, locked up in five star hotel compounds along the way. But I do REALLY appreciate shelter. And warmth. But then I realized the purpose of this trip: to experience everything. And everything means everything, including discomfort and fear. The most difficult revelation that I've had to come to terms with is that my life is simply too comfortable, and often, too easy. Part of the appeal of this trip is the chance to be constantly challenged, and truthfully, to yank us and the kids out of the ease of our lives.

To help fulfill this objective, I have added an interesting adventure in Morocco. That ought to shake things up!

Ultimately, that is the goal. In the meantime, I'd better go look for some soft-sided, smart luggage.

Top 100: Ten at a Time

I was recently challenged to compile a top 100 albums of all time list. Of course, this was agreed upon during a rowdy dinner party that included a lot of Prosecco and homemade Orange Cognac. I guess the good news is that I remember the challenge, but regret agreeing.

However, a promise is a promise. So, in order to keep it manageable, I will post ten at a time, with some explanations, of course.

100. "Spirit" Willie Nelson

Nelson's musical career has been incredible, but there have been some disasters along the way (The "Rainbow Connection" comes to mind). But, when Willie's good, he's amazing. And "Spirit" is one of those albums that illustrates his brilliance lyrically and musically. What is most spectacular about this album, is its simplicity and starkness. It reminds me a lot of "Red-Headed Stranger," which had this story-like sound. Though "Spirit" doesn't have a narrative, its religious theme is present but without the preachiness.

99. "OK Computer" Radiohead

I have mixed feelings towards Radiohead generally. I don't like music that sounds like a ruckus, and Radiohead has plenty of that. Fortunately, they also have many thoughtful and beautifully arranged songs, and many happen to be on this album. In fact, if you listen to the entire thing from start to finish, it's a story. I've actually written an entire Holocaust Musical using these songs. "Exit Music for a Film" would be a scene where two siblings prepare to escape the concentration camp and "Karma Police" could be used at the end during the Nuremberg Trials. I know that sounds vulgar, but this is sometimes what goes on in my small brain.

98. "Tigerlilly" Natalie Merchant

Only Natalie Merchant could write such a compelling song about River Phoenix's death, aptly called "River". She has a the ability to write a lament about something that is rather insignificant, like River's absence on the planet. Sorry, but I never really understood the great appeal of that

guy. Anyway, there is also a couple of tunes like "Beloved Wife" and "Seven Years" that are unforgettable.

97. "Faith & Courage" Sinead O'Connor

If there is an album of feminist anthems, this is it. It's Sinead at her best: super pissed off and simply fed up. The themes are strong and obvious: Sinead leaves earthly love for spiritual love and finds a non-judgmental man in "God." It's not at all preachy, but celebratory and at the end of the day, I like it because I love her voice.

96. "Lost Herd" Ian Tyson

Though Ian Tyson has become the new "Blue Rodeo" to me (they're at every single folk festival anywhere you go), this album makes the cut because it's so sincere. Tyson can write some amazing songs, and I am particularly fond of "La Primera," the first horse to arrive in North America. I listened to this album a lot when we lived in Cochrane, and it was the perfect soundtrack to that experience.

95. "La Carretera" Julio Iglesias

Believe it! Julio Iglesias makes my top 100 albums of all time. I absolutely love this Spanish masterpiece. When I worked as a waitress at Zenari's on 1st in 1996/1997, we listened to this album constantly, and it brings back great memories. And, it's a really good compilation of songs. Of course, there is a terrific cheese factor, but it's sexy cheese.

94. "Ten New Songs" Leonard Cohen

Oh, Leonard. When you write songs like "By the Rivers Dark," it almost makes me want to have your baby. Except for the growing another person inside my body aspect. Anyway, this was a long awaited body of work, and it did not disappoint. It's nearly ten years old now, and what is so special about Cohen is his relevance. I can listen to pretty much anything of his, regardless of release date, and appreciate its freshness, still.

93. "Essence" Lucinda Williams

I went to Calgary a couple of years ago to see Lucinda Williams in concert, and let me tell you, she does not look like her photos. Holy crap, she is rode hard and put away wet, but who doesn't like that in a woman? She had a lot of trouble recalling lyrics to her own songs, but whatever, right? That's why artists record CD's! Despite her fetching shortcomings, "Essence" is a dazzler. From "Lonely Girls" to "I Envy the Wind," every song is its own universe. I can't imagine that she will ever create an album more inspired than this one.

92. "Dummy" Portishead

I love Beth Gibbons and would like to marry her. I picture her sitting at the kitchen table, sullenly chain smoking and writing lyrics like, "did you really want. did you really want. did you really want." I know, it sounds lame, but put to really revolutionary electronic music, it's pretty sublime.

91. "Around the World in a Day" Prince

Dear Prince Rogers Nelson: I love your dirty sensitivity. To be clear: I am aware of the album "Purple Rain," but this one is better. "Condition of the Heart" and "The Ladder" are songs that I listened to for the first time when I was 13 (the album came out in 1985) and I will never forget that experience. All of Prince's music is remarkably raw, but these two gems are so stark and pure, you won't be able to handle it.

FIN FOR NOW

Too Busy Laughing to Post

David Thorne: I want my life back!

http://www.27bslash6.com/matthewsparty.html

Ottawawa, Question Period & The Diefenbunker

My father was a Social Studies teacher for his entire career, which ended about five years ago. Since retiring, he spends most of his time watching news, politics, re-runs of Law & Order, and walking the dog. Unbelievably, his routine is pretty much identical to mine, except I haven't had a career to technically retire from yet. But I digress.

Despite his passion for politics and his incredible knowledge of Canadian Political History, he has never traveled to Ottawa. So, because Jeff has an annual conference in Ottawa every March, we convinced my dad and his wife Cindy to come along with us this year to celebrate my dad's birthday.

The first evening was filled with drinking and eating, and drinking some more (for me, anyway). I insisted that we walk over to the House of Commons so we could see it at night, which was bound to be more enchanting under the stars. We wandered the grounds, and then walked back to the hotel past the East Block. I was sure that I could spot Sir John A. MacDonald's original office and was loudly pointing it out to anybody that would listen. Of course, they humoured me, but no one really believed me. Fortunately, a gentleman was walking by, and I accosted him and asked if he worked in the building. He said that he did. I pointed up at a window and asked if that was in fact John A. MacDonald's office. He said that it was. I danced around in victory. He introduced himself as Senator Wilfred Moore from Nova Scotia, and proceeded to point out other historical offices in the building. As he did that, all I could think about was whether I reeked of wine, and if I said my name correctly when I introduced myself. He was a very gracious and patient stranger, and I, as usual, acted like an unpredictable lunatic.

The next day, while Jeff attended sessions on Health Care and Wait Times (cleverly called "Taming of the Queue"), Cindy, my dad and I galavanted around Ottawa. The first place we descended upon was the "Supreme Court." And unfortunately for us, the trial happened to be the Pickton Appeal. Thus, there was too many media, and no space for visitors in the actual courtroom, but all nine judges were present, and we watched from an adjacent courtroom on a television monitor. The most memorable moment was when a very well dressed and extremely attractive reporter walked by wearing Christian Laboutin shoes. Can you imagine that she makes so much she can afford to buy $1000 shoes doing a job that seemed to require checking her blackberry and making sulky faces? Mondieu!

From there we headed to Question Period, which was simultaneously exciting and horrifying. On the one hand, it was incredible to see all of "the players" gathered in one room. On the other, it was shocking to see them behave like characters from "Mean Girls." I have found it difficult to believe the reports that Question Period had become so embarrassing that field trips were no longer occurring because of bad behaviour, but now I can truly understand why. Actually, it made me feel rather devastated because I hold the House of Commons in such high esteem and believe that the Members of Parliament are pillars of the community generally. It was like going to Prada Headquarters only to find that they'd been sold to Walmart, but kept the Prada name. On a more positive note, my dad did almost knock Gilles Duceppe down the stairs without realizing it, which was funny in a really uncomfortable way.

The highlight of our trip was our excursion out to "Carp" to see the Diefenbunker. Prior to our trip, I booked the tour online, and proceeded to do some reading about Carp because I had never heard of it before. I discovered that not only did Carp have a Secret Cold War Government Bunker, it also had a notorious UFO landing in 1992. I was seriously excited.

Once we arrived, we found ourselves in a town that seemed completely abandoned. We made a lot of jokes about zombies and "The Stand," and because we were early, I was trying to convince the others that we should stop in a coffee shop or hair salon and ask about the UFO. No one was on board with that one because I don't think they believed me, or they had seen too many horror movies with a similar plot, so we proceeded to the Diefenbunker. It was in the middle of nowhere, but there happened to be a public library right beside it, and since we were early, I suggested we go inside and I would show them that I wasn't making the UFO stuff up.

At first, I was locked out of the computers because you had to be a member to access them, but once I told the Librarian that I was interested in looking up some local facts, she told me she would sign me on with a guest card. She casually asked what I was looking for, and I whispered, "I want to read about the UFO that landed here in 1992." She looked perplexed for a moment, but then said, "Oh right, the one that landed somewhere over there" and pointed behind her with her thumb. I told her that I wasn't sure where it landed, but that I was curious to know more about it, and did she know anything about it that she'd like to share? She said, "Well, there is a lot of inbreeding here, you know." And I said, "I'm sorry, did you say inbreeding?" and she said, "Oh yeah. They all marry their first cousins because they don't want to change their last names. So a lot of them are stupid and make stuff up." I looked around me to see if anyone else was listening, but she didn't seem too concerned about being overheard. I guess the inbreeding was common knowledge.

Fortunately, our tour began on time, and I thanked the Librarian and excused myself to head underground for two hours. Our tour guide was called Mike, and he had actually been a member of the Emergency Response branch of the Government, which meant if there had been a nuclear war, Mike would have been one of the 530 people living in the bunker. He also worked in the bunker up until 1994 when it closed. So, he was a pretty incredible tour guide, filled with excellent information and plenty of enthusiasm.

The tour was incredible, and I am still shocked that there exists a place that has four stories of fully functional facilities underground, and that the Canadian Government truly believed that they might live there one day, after Russia annihilated North America. In fact, the government had organized bomb shelters for over 25 million Canadians, and never released that information. The plan was the 530 specifically chosen people, including the Prime Minister, would live underground for 30 days if Nuclear War started. Once the 30 days was up, they would be out of supplies, and would "surface" through the main doors, which consisted of a long, metal tunnel, or through one of two "escape hatches." Once they surfaced, they would slowly rebuild the country. It's a pretty frightening prospect, and it raised some questions about why that plan is considered obsolete today. I tried to ask Mike if he knew anything about the current Emergency Response Plan, but he said no, and then added that his son was involved in the planning, but refused to disclose anything to him.

Throughout the tour, Mike mentioned the Petawawa base many times, as its relevance was its close proximity to the bunker, which then resulted in me calling Ottawa: Ottawawa. It seemed hysterically funny to me then, but my excuse is being underground for over two hours with limited oxygen and possible mold/asbestos particles permeating my lungs and brain. Once the tour ended, I'd hoped to get a couple of interesting souvenirs to take home (gas masks?), but they have been retrofitting the bunker, and getting rid of the aforementioned asbestos and mold, so the store was closed. I do wonder what they sold there, though.

I did not leave Ottawa empty handed. Though we didn't see aliens, space-ships or inbred children (that we are aware), I did score a gorgeous mug from the House of Commons. Happy Birthday, Dad!

The Future Halted

Australia is ruining my life. There, I said it. Honestly, planning this incredible trip has forced me to face myself in a way I wasn't completely prepared for. And the verdict? I am a COWARD.

At first, the biggest challenge was trying to find some things to do in Australia that didn't include being in the water. Then, while reading about activities on land, I stumbled across some information that alerted me to the ten thousand species of Australian spiders! And whilst researching, came across an informative video about the huntsman spider that has psychologically damaged me.

I know that the fear of spiders might seem completely ridiculous to most people. But I have an experience to legitimately back it up. Three years ago, we took our daughters to France and Italy for a long-planned vacation. We had finally saved up enough airline points to claim four tickets from Air Canada, cost-free (of course this is now impossible with the current, completely unreasonable structure of the aeroplan point system, but that is another blog-rant!).

It was mid-July when we set off to Paris. We spent a glorious week there, and then took the train to Avignon. Another week was spent touring the countryside of Provence, and then we caught the overnight train to Rome. From there, we rented a car to get us to where we would meet up with some dear friends in the Tuscan countryside.

We arrived and were greeted by captivating views of pastures and vineyards. Cows wandered freely about, with giant cowbells around their necks (and I thought this only happened in cartoons!). Ourselves and around twenty others had rented the country-house for the week. Each family had its own apartment, but there was a wonderful common area and swimming pool where we held our "happy hours" daily (http://www.borgopoggiolo.com/).

The "happening" occurred on the second last morning. Though our wonderful hosts had warned us of the poisonous snakes and scorpions, no one said anything about spiders. Long days around the pool had resulted in many wet pieces of clothing, which I lay out on our brick railing each evening. After the girls were in bed, Jeff and I would go sit on our stoop, have a glass of grappa, and chat quietly while I put out our clothes. Admittedly, there were a few times where I noticed something scrambling behind Jeff's head as he leaned against the brink wall, but I couldn't see well enough to be thoroughly convinced of its identity.

There was also a couple of occasions where we had to shake a couple of spiders out of our curtains, but that didn't really traumatize me too badly. Yet one morning, as I stepped out onto our lovely little terrace to shake out our clothes, I met my nemesis. It was a large, brown spider about the size of my palm, and it was nestled like a baby in the folds of my daughter's robe (http://www.thais.it/entomologia/ragni/schede/sc_00009.htm).

Instead of hollering or bravely shooing it away, I completely froze. Sophia came waltzing out, ready to grab her suit and begin the day swimming (she also ended the day swimming), and noticed that I was paralyzed and unable to speak. She followed my gaze and went inside, screaming for her father.

Jeff came scrambling onto our porch, and saw "the beast." He muttered a series of profanities under his breath, and I instructed him to get a broom, pronto. He complied, and proceeded to flick the spider down the stairs with the broom, in an aggressive, sweeping motion. It flew through the air and landed at the bottom of the stairs, and then proceeded to run back up towards us. Of course, this sent us into a dancing terror-frenzy that included a lot of non-sensical screaming. As it got to the top of the stairs, Jeff flicked it again, and this time, it flew further and landed on the grass. We stood motionless for a few seconds, awaiting its return. All was calm and quiet, until I realized the spider had to die. And as an aside, I never kill bugs or spiders at home. In fact, I regularly develop close relationships with the beautiful jewel spiders that spin orb webs in my garden every year. But this spider was the king-kong of spiders, and it had to die in order to preserve my mental health.

Jeff agreed, begrudgingly, and descended the stairs to find "the beast." I stood on the stoop, anxious and frightened as I watched him look for the spider. He eventually found it, and it took both feet to kill it. I had a giant shot of grappa to calm my nerves, and we carried on with our day.

Now somehow, I managed to convince myself that this was a lone, rogue spider, that had escaped a Venezuelan produce delivery truck or something, and now we would all live in arachnid-free peace. Though I didn't sleep a wink the last two nights in Italy, and I emptied and re-packed our suitcases about 100 times, I didn't see another spider. As we drove away from the Tuscan paradise, I mentioned to Jeff how strange it was that we had the misfortune to encounter that spider, as no one else had mentioned seeing any. I suggested that it was some kind of random bad luck, and Jeff just kind of agreed, and made a Jeff-grimace-face. I inhaled sharply, and asked him if he saw another one. He nodded. And told me it was BIGGER than the last one. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

So this happy tale doesn't end here. Only months ago, I had a sleep-walking episode. As a child, I used to sleep walk a lot, particularly after my parents divorced, so I suspect it's induced by stress. And though I can't remember what I might have been stressed over, I do know that I saw that spider again, and this time, it was in my bedroom. I was sleeping, and I opened my eyes, only to see it on my the side of my wardrobe. I watched in utter terror, as it then slipped behind the wardrobe, and stayed there. I screamed for Jeff, who came running upstairs in concern, and relayed what I saw. He told me that it was impossible that the spider was here in our bedroom. But I was insistent, and made him look behind the wardrobe, under the wardrobe, and nearly everywhere else in the house. He finally convinced me that I had imagined it.

I think this experience is important because it illustrates how sincerely disturbed I am. The incident has imprinted itself into my subconscious, to the point that I can actually conjure spiders! And it is also truly at the crux of my resistance to go to Australia. I am just plain terrified.

The Future #3

As with most things I am in charge of, I have already changed my mind about the recently posted itinerary. Luckily, Jeff just nods and gives the thumbs up when I announce "our plan" because he knows I will revise it hundreds of times before it is truly finalized. So, after abusing my laminated map with a really terrible smelling erasable red pen that led to a horrible headache, which then led to me making a huge cocktail with rye to counteract the headache, I realized that I had approached the world domination thing all wrong. Tip: Rye brings clarity.

I discovered that I needed to reverse my domination route! The main consideration occurred to me when I was trying to solve the issue of logical, geographical organization: we need to chase the sun, big-time. Could we possibly manage to arrange this trip so that we live in perpetual summer for ten months? The short answer is absolutely.

Now, it took going through nearly fourteen travel books, but I have decided that our trip will look like this (and it is officially called "Wednesday, March 17's Trip" to avoid being bound by it):

1. Canada - USA

2. Australia - New Zealand

3. South Africa - Egypt - Morocco

4. Spain - France - Italy

5. Greece - Turkey

6. USA - Canada

In my mind, this is the perfect route. And while I am awake during daylight hours, I am beyond enthusiastic about it. However, I am already experiencing middle-of-the-night-anxiety. For two nights in a row, I have found myself wide awake, considering everything that could possibly go wrong.

The first fretful thought is always about leaving behind my choco-lab, Ruthie. I really love this dog. It is extremely unhealthy, but as a stay-at-home mother with no stay-at-home children, Ruthie has become the center of my universe. I have actually created our departure scene in my mind where I am kneeling down, looking her sincerely in the eye and trying to explain that our absence does not mean we don't care about her. Ruthie never makes eye contact with me and Jeff has to drag me, inconsolably, to the RV where our children are watching in obvious embarrassment.

The second fretful thought is mainly about African airline safety standards. And possibly Greek ones, too. Dying in a plane crash is good fodder for night terrors for sure, but then I also add the delicious topper, which is being torn apart by sharks after I manage to survive the crash into the ocean. One saving grace that I often internally appeal to is that I am aware that you should punch a shark in the eyes really hard if it is attacking you (I've done research, ok?), but this still does not quell my worries entirely.

The third fretful scenario is around catching horrible illnesses. Our recent trip to Mexico resulted in a bout of food-poisoning that I truly thought was going to kill me. In fact, I repeatedly begged Jeff to get a giant rock and hit me on the head with it so I could die to escape the vomiting. Because of the clear case of PTSD that I have developed because of this poisoning, I now find myself awake at night trying to calculate how many peanut-butter and honey sandwiches I would have to pack to survive ten months without eating any bought food.

Aside from these overwrought thoughts that dissipate once the sun is up, I am thrilled that we are going to do this.

The Future #2

I just purchased a map of the world. As I unrolled it, I recalled an interview I heard recently with a fellow whose parents had tacked a map of the world up in the bathroom, and because of this, geography is now his area of expertise. Sadly, my bathroom isn't big enough to include the whole world, so I will continue to educate myself by reading Calvin & Hobbes, instead. I'm sure it will come in useful someday.

However, there is a point to the purchase of the map. Jeff and I realized that we could leave on our home-schooling/travel-extravaganza a year earlier than anticipated, and now we are standing before a mapped version of the world that is our oyster.

Here is the preliminary Stephanie Agenda:

1. Buy a used RV with no bad smells

2. Stock up on Gravol

3. Travel across Canada as far as New Brunswick

4. Head south through Maine, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, DC, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and finally, Florida.

5. Leave RV in Florida Storage Place

6. Hop a plane to Spain

7. Spend Christmas in Spain

8. Take train to Morroco - hang out in Casablanca and Marakkesh

9. Fly to Egypt - hang out in Cairo and Luxor

10. Fly to South Africa - hang out in Cape Town and Johannesburg

11. Fly to Australia - avoid dinner-plate sized spiders. Hang out in Melbourne and Brisbane? (If I am being really honest, I am not sure how I feel about Australia, other than completely not excited. Please convince me to go there, dear reader - all five of you)

12. Fly or float to New Zealand

13. Fly to Sicily

14. Fly to Venice and head down the Adriatic Coast to visit San Marino and Ortona

15. Float to Greece

16. Visit many Greek Islands and then head to the mainland

17. Train to Turkey - hang in Istanbul

18. Fly from Turkey to Florida

19. Reclaim non-smelly RV

20. Drive home via Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and up to the Dakotas to see Mount Rushmore (and maybe Tornado chase along the way)

I also purchased some erasable markers to plot the route on my new laminated map, which has instilled a kind of deranged feeling of world domination deep within me. I think I will complement it with an evil laugh, which I should probably practice before its unveiling.

If you want to meet up with us along the way, don't hesitate to let us know. We plan to be gone from September 2010 - July 2011. Any travel tips would be gladly received, and so would a farewell party.

Merci!

Sweet Duchess

I had a extremely rare, and perfectly unique cafe experience this afternoon that has left me feeling a bit out of sorts. I visited "Duchess Bake Shop" on 124 street and I will never be the same again.

Upon entering, I was not particularly dazzled by the decor or layout. In fact, I thought it seemed a bit too stark. Then I arrived at the counter and tried to absorb the bounty that lay before me. There were sandwiches made on croissants with piles of meat and various cheeses. Cakes, cookies, tarts, meringues, scones and some divine looking madeleines peered back at me through the window. I suddenly longed to be a cow so I could max out my four stomachs.

I settled on a sandwich and tried the lemon blueberry scone for dessert. It was the most wonderful taste experience I've had in ages, and it has stoked the underlying outrage that I have worked really hard to suppress. The outrage is this: how is it we have become so conditioned and accepting of the CRAP that purports to be food at most cafes and bakeries? What is wrong with us? Are we so filled with self-loathing that we don't think we deserve better?

Granted, the food at "Duchess Bake Shop" is more expensive than most places, but the food is homemade and exquisite! And I am not ignoring the other establishments in Edmonton like Zenari's or Wild Earth that are high quality spots. But I am forced to recall the many times I have wandered through the city only to see an astonishingly long line up at Tim Horton's. Please, my dear Edmontonians, STOP eating there. Your donuts arrive half cooked to every location and then it is "finished" on site. The chicken comes in a "loaf!" And, it is despairingly bad for you (I have actually resorted to labeling physical ailments "Timmy Bum" and "Timmy Tum" in honour of the garbage food).

So, I raise my glass to "Duchess Bake Shop" and hope this kind of establishment encourages a food backlash in our beloved city.

http://duchessbakeshop.com/wp/

Politics and Functionally Crazy People

Ten Tips on How NOT to Approach a Riding President About Running in the Next Election:

1. Don't refer to Eastern European people as Polaks and Ukelele's.

2. Don't begin every sentence with, "Here's the deal..."

3. Don't reveal that you think none of the parties actually have any values, including the one you intend to run for.

4. Don't name-drop names no one recognizes.

5. Don't disclose that though you normally vote Conservative, your intention to run against them has nothing to do with revenge.

6. Don't ask if anyone wants to hear your opinion about those goddamn RCMP f-ers.

7. Don't ask if that particular opinion will impact your chances of becoming the nominated candidate.

8. Don't liken the current Prime Minister to Adolph Hitler.

9. Don't try to explain, in detail, the history of Libertarianism.

10. And finally, don't ask the President if her last name is Polak or Ukelele.

Thank-You.

CONVERSATION KILLER #1

Setting: Dinner with him and me. He is important. I am trying to be.

ME: So, you're a physician and the Leader of the Opposition! I am still so impressed at your brave stance against the government, getting fired, and then becoming a politician to work to elicit real change.

HIM: Well, it took some great sacrifices to get where I am today, but I really believe in what I'm doing. Even if I don't ever become Premiere, I hope to leave the Legislature in better shape than when I arrived. So, you said you have a BA? What did you major in?

ME: Women's Studies.

HIM: (looks over my shoulder) Is that Ben Henderson?

THE END

You, Me & Dog Poop = Community?

I live in a small community. My family & I moved here because it is near the center of the city, and allows access to the river valley. We walk everywhere: to the Sobey's on 104 St., to the Citadel for drama classes, to the AGA for art classes, to the Don Wheaton YMCA for swimming lessons. We bike to the Folk Festival every year, the Muttart Conservatory and Dragon Boat Races.

The neighbourhood attracted us not only for its splendid location, but because of its reputation as being friendly, open and eccentric. Yet the only description that has truly applied to date is the eccentric one. The "open & friendly" part is still a work in progress.

For instance, our community newsletter recently published an anonymous letter from someone complaining in detail how angry she is about the dog poop that is constantly left on her front lawn. She concluded the diatribe by threatening those out walking their dog to be careful as she might throw said dog poop at the back of someone's head.

I guess I am naive, or subscribe to some kind of polly-anna attitude, but this completely shocked me for a couple of reasons. The first reason being that I couldn't believe the editor allowed this letter in the newsletter. The second reason is because I am not sure I will ever be able to support or understand this kind of animosity-laced open-letter in any community.

No matter what your issue, this kind of unfiltered rant will never inspire anyone to sympathize, let alone change their behaviour . Worse, a letter like this breaks down any potential for building a strong community.

To help combat my outrage, I have been collecting these little ditties, and intend to write "Riverdale: The Musical" from them. "Poop on My Lawn" is in the key of A minor, and I would prefer a contralto.

Auditions will be held in spring, just in time for the great thaw (to get y'all in the mood).

The Future

For many years now, Jeff and I have had numerous conversations about "The Future." The chats are always positive and inspirational, often bordering on the phenomenal. We come up with very dreamy ideas of "what could be" for our little family, get really excited, make grande statements and then resume life, as usual, after the excitement of radical change wears off.

Yet there has been one consistent vision that we have quite diligently stuck to: take a year off with our girls and travel the world while home-schooling them along the way. We started saving for this after reading about a family from our neighbourhood that did something similar several years back. The goal is to leave once Sophia enters grade seven, and Olivia hits grade six. The intent is to drag them around with us before the indifference and profound dislike for their parents sets in (though there are already indications that we might be too late).

Is this insanely ambitious? Yes. Do I really have it in me to teach my daughters integers while in Vietnam? Probably not. But even detached reality checks can't dispel the impulse to try it anyway.

We have divided the year up into quarters, and our first leg will be North America. What a travesty that we really haven't seen our own country, so we intend to buy a used RV, pack our choco-lab Ruthie, and head east. After we cross the country and finish in the Maritimes, we will head south to the eastern US and visit Civil War sites, and most importantly, Mount Rushmore.

I have developed some kind of unhealthy fixation on this monument after seeing "North by NorthWest." I had never paid much attention to the monument before that, and then last August when I took the girls to New York, we were passing through US customs where on the wall was a large mural of those four, giant Presidential faces. To my horror, I could only name three of the Presidents. I kept saying aloud, "Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson...but who is the third?? Hamilton??" The girls didn't know, either. I was completely perplexed by the fact that I couldn't remember.

Once we were settled in our hotel, and on our way to a friend's apartment, I decided to stop in a liquor store and buy some Prosecco to take along. There were two people working in the store, and I said, "Who is on Mount Rushmore? I remember Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson, but for the life of me, I can't remember the fourth President!" They both looked at me and shrugged. They couldn't even hazard a guess. I said, rather smugly, "It's really terrible that you don't know this. You live here! I'm Canadian and I know three of them!" Again the shrug.

But, the very next morning, the girls and I were walking across the street from the liquor store heading to the subway when the door burst open, and out ran one of the guys from the night before. He stops and cups his hands across his mouth and yells, "THEODORE ROOSEVELT!"

Maybe I'll be a good home-schooler after all.

Music to bring in the New Year

Don't worry, I recognize that it's nearly March, but I had to begin this blog with something topical, and I think this list fulfills the goal.

Every year we go to our friend Ella & Mark's place for New Years Day. It begins at 11:00am, and includes different types of pancakes, every version of herring that you can imagine, and a lot of champagne and vodka. The most important part of the day, though, is the "Georgian Toast." Every person comes prepared with a story from the past year, and must conclude with some profound statement that doesn't necessary follow logically from the narrative. You can imagine how this must unfold: if you don't go first, your chances of delivering an articulate version of your story, following eight to ten glasses of straight vodka with some champagne in between, is practically impossible. For instance, last year I just cried and babbled, and fortunately, some others in similar condition joined me.

But this year, I came prepared with the following list. I decided that I wanted to highlight some of the songs that obsessed me throughout 2009. They are not songs only released in 2009, but songs I insisted on playing repeatedly in the car, in my kitchen and whilst drinking too much rye.

I welcome feedback, and challenge others to create similar lists.

1. BARBRA STREISAND Papa Can You Hear Me?

I picked this song as the first one because I still remember the moment I heard it this year. The stereo was full blast, and the opening of the song stopped me completely. I think Barbra’s voice is perfect, and despite the true fromage-like nature of the lyrics, her music makes me feel rather religious, and it also cures stomach-flu.

2. BAT FOR LASHES Horse and I

I read about this band in a feminist magazine and bought the album without hearing any of it in advance. I was immediately drawn to this song by its intense harpsichord fugue-inspired opening, completely juxtaposed by the breathy lyrics. I also really like marching drum beats.

3. THE BEATLES Julia

This song has haunted me for years; probably six or more. I always had the tune in my head, but no idea which album it was from. When I found out it was off “The White Album,” I was surprised and disappointed because I had somehow convinced myself that I hated that album. I was wrong. “Julia” is John Lennon’s song to his mother about Yoko, and if I recall correctly, it’s the only song on any Beatles album that he does completely alone.

4. THE BEATLES Happiness is a Warm Gun

I absolutely had to include this song, even though it is another Beatle’s tune. I am truly enamored by it, and its absurd title. I looked it up and found that Lennon saw the title as a headline on a Gun Magazine and got a kick out of it. I also get a kick out of it, but the song is much bigger than any kick and really proves the brilliance of these guys. It’s also McCartney’s favourite song of all time, which really surprised me.

5. DAVID BOWIE Heroes

David Bowie, his eyeliner, his spandex, his moist, lip-glossed lips and terrible teeth really do it for me. I have always admired him from my earliest music memories, but I would have to pick this song as his best ever. I only ever thought it mediocre until I watched a rare video of Bowie singing it live on a Bing Crosby Special. It’s on youtube; watch it and be amazed. When he says, “And you/you will be Queen,” I mentally scream “I ACCEPT!”

6. ELVIS PRESLEY Don’t

I am normally not a Presley fan, other than recognizing his place in the family of musical things. But this song takes me to a place that is hard to articulate. It captures something that is lost; something that I am trying to capture again, to no avail. Yet I can’t name it. But I want it. Worse, I think that it’s impossible to conjure, because I’ve never experienced it. And for this, I am sad.

7. EMILY HAINES Reading in Bed

This song is relevant to a very specific point in time, when I was reading the biography of Sylvia Plath. The lines with all the luck you’ve had/why are your songs so sad/you sing from a book/you were reading in bed and took to heart really made an impression on me. I read that biography in bed every night, and I really took this book to heart. Haines’ song became a bit of an anthem I would sing in my head on a regular basis.

8. FEIST The Water

Feist’s second album is really a small masterpiece. “The Water” has such a lonely sound and I absolutely love her voice and the definitive wailing in minor keys. Another highlight is the gentle trumpet playing and repetitive scales. I also feel it could be an anthem for Alberta.

9. STEVIE NICKS Gold Dust Woman

Stevie Nicks has been in my life since birth. My father was a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, and I sometimes think I was actually named after her, though no one will admit it. I think this song is remarkable for its absolute rawness and authenticity.

10. NEIL DIAMOND Another Day (That Time Forgot)

The only Neil Diamond song I was familiar with before this recent album was “Solitary Man,” a cover that Chris Isaak recorded in 1992. I really thought the song was incredible, but never explored Diamond further, until this most recent release. I love Neil’s voice, and I think the songs are thoughtful and so intricately exhibited.

11. NEKO CASE The Pharaohs

After seeing Neko play at this year’s folk festival, I viewed her latest album in a completely different light. I already loved it, and overplayed quite seriously. This song had been my favourite one from the first listen, and remains my favourite today. Before playing the song live, Neko gave a bit of background, consisting of “this is a song about an imaginary boyfriend,” which brought the whole song together for me. I actually bought a white leather jacket in Paris because of this song. It is easily my favourite of 2009 because it moves me.

12. PATTI SMITH Elegy

I have always had a bit of a crush on Patti Smith because she wears androgyny like nobody else. I loved the cover of “Horses,” but didn’t give it much of a chance beyond the aesthetics. Then I heard “Elegy,” and finally understood why she is seen as a musical pioneer. Smith’s singing style is so “fuck you” and not at all contrived. I think her image is contrived, but not her art.

13. SARAH SLEAN No Place At All

“The Baroness” is Slean’s second album, and is truly excellent. I listen to this song a lot because it’s beautiful. I think it should be in a musical; a sad musical, of course.

14. SHUYLER JANSEN Hell Hounds

I am including one of my brother’s songs on this list because his most recent album, “Today’s Remains,” will be the tour de force of his musical career. Every time I listen to this tune, I feel it should be included on a Clint Eastwood movie soundtrack. A couple of years ago, Shuyler was in Edmonton and opened his show with a fifteen-minute version of this song, and it completely blew me away. It’s a remarkable, profound, lyrical work of art.

15. AMY WINEHOUSE Wake Up Alone

I love Amy Winehouse. I dig her look and her amazing voice. I hope she never stops drinking too much or doing copious amounts of drugs because then songs like this won’t get written.

16. MICHAEL JACKSON She’s Out of My Life

It was imperative that I include a Jackson song on this list because he died. This is not my favourite song by Michael, but I think it is one of the truest and most sincere in his whole body of work. It’s from “Off the Wall” and sticks out glaringly compared to the other disco tunes. It’s the perfect contrast and takes you by surprise when you listen to the album from start to finish. This is the song that you remember.

17. FAITH HILL O Holy Night

OK – something happened to me this December, whereby I became totally preoccupied with finding the best version of this Christmas standard. Up to this point, I had never actually listened to this song, and really heard it this year. And cried. A lot. The strangest part is that I don’t even care about the baby Jesus all that much. But if I were to seriously consider accepting the Saviour, it would be because of this hymn.