Went last night to a charity dinner and auction for the provincial SPCA. A. sits on its Board of Directors, so we really had to put in an appearance. The owner of his clinic kindly bought a table, so all the employees could attend.
It ended up being pretty fun. There was a silent auction beforehand, in which I ended up winning two items which will make nice Christmas gifts. Then after dinner, there was a live auction of all kinds of donated goodies. At one point, I began bidding on what I thought was a painting of Peggy's Cove. I was amazed that the bidding only went as high as $30, upon which I won. I was all excited to have won a painting for only $30...until the others at the table told me that no, I'd actually won one of the (admittedly very nice) floral arrangements on the tables:
(And no, you're not seeing things - the "vase" is, in fact, a dog dish.)
What the hell?!?! Granted, I'd had a few glasses of wine at that stage, but I was paying attention - and the whole time I was bidding there was a girl standing at the podium showing the painting. Not sure how it happened, but I did have a good laugh about it. Note to self: DON'T DRINK AND BID! Put down the paddle and step away from the wine. ;-)
The evening ended on a high note when they drew for the raffle prize and...I won! I got a big basket with over $200 worth of skin care products by Arbonne. Also inside were a gift certificate from a salon downtown for a haircut and style, and another gift cert from another salon for a haircut and style, a tanning session, a brow wax, and $10 off any tattoo or body piercing. Hahahahaha!! Yep, I'll be making that tattoo appointment right away.
So, quite a good evening, all around - and it raised over $20,000 for the SPCA too, which is great.
I happily started dance lessons again today with the uni dance society, after last year's hiatus (due to teaching responsibilities). I'm doing bellydance again this term, and what's even nicer is that my friend C. is joining me.
Dug out my jangly hipscarf and veil, and really enjoyed the class. The instructor seems very nice and I think we'll be spending a lot of time working on foundational movements, which is just what I need. We'll focus more on choreography next term, in preparation for the end-of-year show.
I forgot what a good workout a dance class can be. Great stuff! And very fun, too. *practises hip circles and shimmies*
I consider my home to be my most valued possession, and I love decorating and making it look nice. Recently, I took a bunch of new photos of the interior, in order to update the album of house pics I had on Flickr. Since making that first album, we've done loads more redecorating, so there's a fair bit more to see. The album can be found here.
I'm quite pleased with how the house is looking now, after nearly three years of mostly cosmetic work on it. There's only one major job left to undertake, and it's a doozy - the kitchen. We've been saving up to completely re-do it, hopefully next year. There's a funny little pantry room next to the kitchen which doesn't see that much use. I'd like to knock down the adjoining wall in order to enlarge the existing kitchen, which is a little small (for the size of the house) and doesn't have much counter space. So it's going to be an expensive job, with structural work, new cabinetry, countertops and floors. Not to mention appliances, since the only thing there at the moment worth keeping is the dishwasher.
So now we're officially into autumn. I spent time yesterday clearing out my closets, putting away summer clothes and getting my warmer things out. There didn't seem much point in keeping the portable air conditioner connected either - I think it's safe to say we won't be having a freak heatwave at this point.
I have to say that this past summer has been the best I've had in many years - certainly the best since we returned home to Canada. Obviously, taking an exotic vacation was a big part of it, and three weddings kept things festive, but that wasn't everything. My trip to New York in June kicked things off, and almost every weekend since then has seen us doing something fun - including quite a few activities which I've been meaning to try for years, but never got around to before.
Good times, all round. :-)
The Atlantic Film Festival has been on here, over the past week. This year, for (embarassingly) the first time ever, I actually got off my backside and went to see a couple of films. I'm very glad I did.
Friday night I saw Control, a biopic of Ian Curtis (who was the singer in the band Joy Division before his suicide in 1980). It was very good, excellently-acted, and filmed in black-and-white - which entirely suited its rather grim, working-class, Thatcherite setting in the north of England. Interestingly, I discovered that the film was based on a memoir written by Curtis' wife, and that she (along with the late, legendary Tony Wilson) served as one of the film's producers. Which makes sense, given that the film depicts her as the innocent victim of Curtis's philandering and confused ways.
Then yesterday afternoon, I went along to see a documentary by a Dutch filmmaker called Forever. I wanted see it because it's about the Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris, a place I have visited and loved (because I just like graveyards, anyway). The film turned out not to be quite what I was expecting, though. It wasn't really about the cemetery itself, but rather the many artists (both famous and non-famous) buried there, and the people who have loved them. The gravesite of each artist - Proust, Wilde, Modigliani, Chopin - served as a jumping-off point for the filmmaker to talk to the people who came there to pay their respects. The results were very beautiful, emotionally revealing, and incredibly touching. Far from being morbid, the film was a celebration of life, and the reverberations of human existence long after the body itself has turned to dust. I loved it.
Tonight, MuchMoreMusic screened Kylie Minogue: Showgirl, which was filmed in Australia last autumn. Brilliant, jubilant stuff - I grinned like an idiot throughout and bounced along to all the hits. Kylie has really come into her own these last few years, since she stopped trying to be something she isn't (Indie Kylie?!). At the end of the day, she's a cheeseball disco queen, but she's fantastically good at it. Showgirl showcased her to the hilt - though it also really played up her status as a gay icon. She was accompanied throughout the show by a bevy of hunky himbo dancers, and performed "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (!) whilst seated high above the stage on a glittery crescent moon.
I'd love to see one of her shows someday - though it's unlikely it will be here. She's never been anywhere near as popular in North America as she is in Europe and Australia.
Normally, I greet seasonal fashion announcements with barely a flicker of interest. I could care less, for instance, if Sixties-style op-art prints are back for the umpteenth time. However, I have happily rejoiced in the news that, for Fall 2007, opaque tights are once again a fashionable item. (Along with the colour grey, tweed, and hats - all of which I approve, but that's another topic altogether.)
What woman, living in a northern climate, wouldn't be pleased? Opaque tights are our friends. They keep us warm, are inherently slimming, and disguise a multitude of sins. Which makes it all the more ridiculous that they were off the fashion radar for the better part of a decade. Remember how, for most of the Noughties, nobody was wearing pantyhose of any kind? Not only did we freeze for ten months a year, but legs that were better kept under wraps went on display for all to see. The bare-legged look is fine for those with long, tanned, unblemished pins, groomed to perfection and sporting a soupçon of shine. But for the rest of us? Argh.
I've not owned a decent pair of woolly tights in years; they've been impossible to find in any but the most specialised shops (which, invariably, cater to ladies of a certain age). I bet they'll be everywhere now, though. Time to stock up!
In an effort to light a fire under my fitness routine, I've recently decided to give weight training a go. It's never appealed to me in the past, but I keep reading about how extra muscle mass is especially beneficial for women in their 30s and 40s, who are looking to keep in shape. Plus, combined with some cardio, it's apparently a good way to rid oneself of those last few pounds standing between one and bodaciousness. Which sounds good to me.
But how to start? I hate gyms, so I did a little research online and ended up getting this DVD from Kathy Smith, as well as a selection of dumbbells. I've never done a Kathy Smith workout, but she's been around forever and has sold a shedload of videos, so I guess they must be good. Anyway, I'm now into my fourth week of the program (doing both the upper- and lower-body segments twice a week) and am getting the hang of it. I started out very wimpily, using 1, 3 and 5 lb. weights, but last week, I moved up to 3, 5 and 7 lbs. My upper body is killing me as a result, but hopefully I'll get stronger soon (my lack of upper-body strength generally is pretty pathetic).
In another few weeks, once I can manage the current weightload OK, I'll move up to the 5, 7 and 10 lb. dumbbells. By then, I hope the scale and bodyfat monitor will show a difference too - although I'm most interested in getting stronger.
OMG! OMG! Alberto Manguel is coming to Halifax!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ha! No, it's not the newest Latin pop star, but rather a distinguished man of letters. Recently, the CBC asked him to deliver this year's Massey Lectures, which he has titled "The City of Words".
At the moment, I'm partway through Manguel's book A History of Reading, and his last work, The Library at Night, is still on my to-read list. The university where I did my undergrad is co-hosting Manguel's lecture here in Halifax, and when I got an email from them last week announcing it, I literally whooped with delight (gawd I'm a big nerd). Now I'm anxiously waiting for the tickets to go on sale. I imagine they will sell out in short order, and I certainly don't want to miss this.
I've been having some unusually vivid, wacked-out dreams nearly every night for the past week.
In one, someone had given me a broken plastic tiara to fix. As I was sitting there trying to figure out what to do with it, I looked down at my right arm and was very puzzled to find I was wearing three wristwatches. I bet some dream analyst would tell me there was all kinds of symbolism in that, but alas, I don't know any dream analysts.
Around mid-week, I had another dream in which I was a dragon. I sometimes took human form (as a man), and there were these two other dragons/men who were after me. And I was flying through the sky, and then through some sort of cave, trying to get away from them...only turning around to belch fire at my pursuers from time to time. Damn you, Christopher Paolini (and possibly also those peppers I ate).
Last night's dream was much more straightforward. I had tickets to see a big show by my favourite band, in New York (or it may have been Paris). But about a week before the show, the bassist announced he was leaving the band. This was disappointing enough...but then, just before the show itself, the keyboardist died. In the dream, I was sitting with a friend and fellow fan, watching endless TV reports on the keyboardist's death, as we sobbed and drank champagne in his honour. When I woke up, there were tears streaming down my face.
I think I'm ready for a few nights of undisturbed slumber, now.
Another month, another Vanity Fair cover at which to look askance. This month, multiple Oscar-winning, serious thespian Nicole Kidman shows us her bra, accompanied by the titilating caption "Nicole Kidman Bares All".
Why??? Seriously. I asked the same thing last year, when the cover of VF's Hollywood issue featured a nude Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley, accompanied by a fully-clothed Tom Ford. While images such as these hardly cause a ripple nowadays, it's good to know that I'm not the only person who looks at this stuff and scratches her head. In the Guardian today, Kira Cochrane notes precisely why these images are problematic:
I think what I find so incredibly discomfiting about these pictures is their suggestion that, no matter how talented a woman is, how many plaudits she has received, how intelligent her reputation, how garlanded she has been for depicting one of the most talented writers of the last century while sporting a huge prosthetic conk on her noggin, at the end of the day, if she wants to stay in the public eye, if she wants the magazine covers and the leading roles, she has to be willing to reduce herself to tits and arse.
Extremely well put. And before you go rolling your eyes and dismissing this kind of thing as boring feminist twaddle, ask yourself: when was the last time you saw a respected, Oscar-winning male actor get naked in the pages of a magazine, to promote his latest film?
It's a sobering day, indeed, when you find yourself pulling tights out of the back of your dresser drawer, from the place where you stuffed them months ago as the warmer weather arrived.
And to have to put on your fall coat and a pair of gloves, before mounting your trusty conveyance and pedalling off to work? *sigh*
You know, I love autumn - but I'd enjoy its onset even more if we'd had more than about five weeks of warm summer weather this year.
Argh. It's the middle of Frosh Week here and I forgot that tonight's the night for the big concert in the quadrangle. All afternoon there's been an unholy racket outside my office window, as the band spent hours soundchecking for their show.
Bah. Bloody kids and their rawk and bloody roll. *grumbles*
;-)
Last night, C., L., A. and I went to a production of Shakespeare by the Sea. Embarassingly, even though that company has been in existence for over a decade, this was the first time I'd seen one of their plays. We saw one of Shakespeare's lesser-known comedies, All's Well That Ends Well, and it was quite good. It was staged at the Cambridge Battery down at Point Pleasant Park, which made for a really effective backdrop.
We all decided we'd try to arrive a bit early, and have a picnic supper. I hauled out the lovely posh English wicker picnic basket we received as a wedding gift (and which we'd never used), and loaded it up with salads, cheese, bread and fruit, as well as two thermoses of white wine for clandestine sipping. We were the only picnickers in the audience, which caught the attention of the actors. During the interval, a couple of them mooched cheese and fruit off us, then made merry with my cheese knife for a bit. ("Look, it's the world's smallest butcher knife!" *cackles insanely and mimes chopping someone's head off*)
A very good evening, all in all. I think it should definitely become an annual event!
