i believe she's 9 metres tall (about 30 feet) sorry i'm lean on details.... a bronze statue, very controversial..... the artist admires the subject, and says its fine qualities remind her of her mother.... i'll say no more till i can get blogger to upload the image... he's balky today.
staying with friends with 2 1/2 year old twins and a new baby... the urgent details of life involve diapers and potty training and doing puzzles together on the living room floor.... but mum and i did get out briefly to the national gallery to see the Joe Fafard show (fabulous!) maman is the name of this sculpture, which stands outside the national gallery's main entrance.
as blogger refuses, after several tries, to load the image... will try later
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
running away from home
i'm running away from home. in mid renovation. the cabinet maker doesn't come for another month, and the mess is getting inside my head. can't do much about it till the cabinets come in a month so i'm escaping.
As I stroll aimlessly with my cart of luggage through the Edmonton International Airport, I enjoy the first free time I’ve had in months. I find a comfy seat and pull from my spiffy new suitcase (the first real luggage I’ve ever owned – a lovely set of tone-on-tone chocolate bags I hope to get a good deal of use from in the coming years) ….. I pull from my elegant bag a book brought from my local library for this express purpose. My librarian would be mortified to know the book is flying to Ottawa with me. She’s very possessive about her books. Hates to see them leave town without an official escort. Especially in my hands, as I’ve been known to leave more than one treasured tome all alone in the wide world, with no way home. It’s a habit that somewhat offsets the financial benefits of a library membership – it might be more cost effective to buy the books I want to read. My local library charges me far more than the value of the lost item, in an attempt to guarantee their books’ safe return. I sigh, fork over the cash, and think of it as a donation… both to the library, and to the finder of the book, who I fervently hope appreciates the gift. Neither, however, proffers a charitable receipt for my generosity.
Hours later, having read half the book, I go for another stroll, in search of an electrical outlet to plug my laptop into, as its charge is very low after surfing and checking emails last night and this afternoon. Having very little experience with airports, I’m not sure if this is typical, but after cruising the entire length of the building, the only outlet I can find is behind a Conquest Vacations kiosk, which is unmanned at this late hour. How do the maintenance folks power their floor sweepers and scrubbers? Surely it’s not all done by broom, bucket and mop? In a building that probably uses as much electricity per day as the small town I live in, there are no electrical outlets? Bizarre!
I’m on my way to Ottawa, for a week’s visit to dear friends who moved there last summer, from Calgary. I’m a sort of surrogate granny to their small children. As they’re moving back to Calgary in March, this is my last chance to visit them in Ottawa. Yes, it would make more financial sense to visit them in Calgary, which is closer to home, but Calgary doesn’t have the Rideau Canal. Since I first learned of its existence, I’ve wanted to skate the Canal. I guess you could say it’s on my Bucket List. And I had enough air miles to do it @ very little cost. So I’ve been counting the sleeps.
Of course, traveling on air miles, my selection of flights is less than optimal. Hence the long wait @ Edmonton International. But after the hectic pace of the last few months, being ‘stuck’ in an airport for 9 or 10 hours with nothing by my laptop and a good book is no hardship at all.
as i wait for the plane, i see workers with brooms, buckets and mops.... they really do keep this huge place clean w/o mechanical sweepers etc!!
As I stroll aimlessly with my cart of luggage through the Edmonton International Airport, I enjoy the first free time I’ve had in months. I find a comfy seat and pull from my spiffy new suitcase (the first real luggage I’ve ever owned – a lovely set of tone-on-tone chocolate bags I hope to get a good deal of use from in the coming years) ….. I pull from my elegant bag a book brought from my local library for this express purpose. My librarian would be mortified to know the book is flying to Ottawa with me. She’s very possessive about her books. Hates to see them leave town without an official escort. Especially in my hands, as I’ve been known to leave more than one treasured tome all alone in the wide world, with no way home. It’s a habit that somewhat offsets the financial benefits of a library membership – it might be more cost effective to buy the books I want to read. My local library charges me far more than the value of the lost item, in an attempt to guarantee their books’ safe return. I sigh, fork over the cash, and think of it as a donation… both to the library, and to the finder of the book, who I fervently hope appreciates the gift. Neither, however, proffers a charitable receipt for my generosity.
Hours later, having read half the book, I go for another stroll, in search of an electrical outlet to plug my laptop into, as its charge is very low after surfing and checking emails last night and this afternoon. Having very little experience with airports, I’m not sure if this is typical, but after cruising the entire length of the building, the only outlet I can find is behind a Conquest Vacations kiosk, which is unmanned at this late hour. How do the maintenance folks power their floor sweepers and scrubbers? Surely it’s not all done by broom, bucket and mop? In a building that probably uses as much electricity per day as the small town I live in, there are no electrical outlets? Bizarre!
I’m on my way to Ottawa, for a week’s visit to dear friends who moved there last summer, from Calgary. I’m a sort of surrogate granny to their small children. As they’re moving back to Calgary in March, this is my last chance to visit them in Ottawa. Yes, it would make more financial sense to visit them in Calgary, which is closer to home, but Calgary doesn’t have the Rideau Canal. Since I first learned of its existence, I’ve wanted to skate the Canal. I guess you could say it’s on my Bucket List. And I had enough air miles to do it @ very little cost. So I’ve been counting the sleeps.
Of course, traveling on air miles, my selection of flights is less than optimal. Hence the long wait @ Edmonton International. But after the hectic pace of the last few months, being ‘stuck’ in an airport for 9 or 10 hours with nothing by my laptop and a good book is no hardship at all.
as i wait for the plane, i see workers with brooms, buckets and mops.... they really do keep this huge place clean w/o mechanical sweepers etc!!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Melody
the results are in. after taking submissions from my violin students for a name for my beauteous new harp, and giving everyone a vote in the final results are in. allow me to introduce you to Melody Valentine. the first name was suggested by Justin, who is now the proud owner of his own electronic chromatic tuner. the second name was suggested by Aidan, who is now the proud possessor of his very own electronic metronome.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Good Old Hockey Game
I'm not much of a hockey fan, but i admire the passion of those who are. So, in tribute to Canada's recent National Pond Hockey Tournament....
THE HOCKEY SONG
by Stompin' Tom Connors.
Hello out there, we're on the air, it's 'Hockey Night' tonight.
Tension grows, the wistle blows, and the puck goes down the ice.
The goalie jumps, and the players bump, and the fans all go insane.
Someone roars, "Bobby Scores!", at the good ol' Hockey Game.
CHORUS
OH! The good ol' Hockey game, is the best game you can name.
And the best game you can name, is the good ol' Hockey game.
Second Period.
Where players dash, with skates aflash, the home team trails behind.
But they grab the puck, and go bursting up, and they're down across the line.
They storm the crease, like bumble bees, they travel like a burning flame.
We see them slide, the puck inside, it's a 1-1 hockey game.
(Chorus)
Third Period. Last game of the playoff too!
Oh take me where, the hockey players, face off down the rink.
And the Stanley Cup, is all filled up, for the champs who win the drink.
Now the final flick, of a hockey stick, and the one gigantic scream.
"The puck is in! The home team wins!", the good ol' hockey game.
(Chorus x3)
(It's in!)(He shoots, he scores!)(Henderson scores for Canada!)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
party!
the upcoming weekend is pond hockey weekend all over Canada. in our neck of the woods i's happening on a local lake, all weekend, with uncounted numbers of teams participating. there'll be a tent with a heater in it for beer and snacks, and live music... including yours truly and the irish band i play with. the photos here are from the grand opening of the addition to the pub we do St Paddy's for each year. they'd renovated and expanded, because the Fire Dept threatens to shut them down every St Paddy's for exceeding seating capacity. i guess that's a sign of success for them AND for us!
Monday, February 11, 2008
sunrise @ 40 below
it's warmed considerably since Saturday, when this was taken. we're at a balmy -10C today.
Friday, February 1, 2008
this is an albino moose. a cow, with 2 calves. the pictures have beeen circulating - i'm not sure who took them. but they're interesting critters, so i thought i'd share a couple of them. they're quite rare, but not miraculously so. twin calves are not all that common either.
there was an albino bull moose wandering in the wild country near the town i grew up in, when i was a child. a fellow who was know to be a tad reckless with the truth reported seeing it, but no one would believe him. after several reported sightings had been scoffed at, he happened to sight it again with a gun in his hand. "NO," you're thinking. "he didn't!" oh yes, he did. he shot it, to prove that for once in his live he was telling the truth. it's now stuffed and standing proudly in the Grande Prairie Pioneer Museum.
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