Tall Tales

So....this happened. I directed a one act play. It was called Tall Tales by Robert Shennkan from the Kentucky Cycle. It was an experience I almost can't put into words. Well..almost. It all started when I got this email from The Powerhouse Theatre inviting members to attend a director's workshop. They wanted to have three new directors and three one act plays for a showcase, only one of the directors dropped out. So...they asked me. I had only done one other production with them (you may remember I waxed rhapsodic about Grease) and nothing really since I sulked through Mrs. Salter's Drama class in Grade 12 when she made us do Same Time Next Year. The process of putting a show together in 19 days from auditions to the family performance was daunting and proved to be an emotional rollercoaster. Fortunately for me, I was surrounded by an incredible cast who believed in the play and did their best to make it an authentic piece to the highest quality possible. Without the dedication of these actors, there is no way the show could have been as amazing as it was. The good times, jokes and friendships made were a priceless bonus to the entire artistic process. What an amazing thing to be in a room with so many like minded people who see your vision and want to help you manifest it! I also had an incredible stage manager, Raven, who put up with my drama, barking orders and worked tirelessly to make sure I was getting what I needed. I was also backed by the mentor directors of the Powerhouse and some of the longtime members who squeezed in time to help with costumes, props and set decor. The other two directors, Jessika and Bob, I hardly saw, but their plays were amazing as well, Tunafish Eulogy and Ledge Ledger and the Ledgend, respectively. I doubt this will be my last theatre experience, hopefully I won't let four years go by before the next adventure!

White Bread and Bambi

 I had the best of intentions. I started out making whole wheat cinnamon buns with a recipe I found in my inbox. I thought they could be "healthy" cinnamon buns. I got skeptical looks from some unnamed man while I was making the dough and when I saw the final result, I realized the yield was far too small to satisfy my family. So, I broke out the tried and true Purity White Bread recipe and went to town. This recipe makes about five loaves or anything else you want it to make. I grew up eating this homemade bread (Thanks Mom). I made a pan and a half of cinnamon buns, 8 regular buns and a loaf. I also made the 8 whole wheat buns (pictured at the bottom) and then the next day the boys wanted pizza so I made pizza dough using The Frugal Girl's recipe. Easy. I was already in bread making mode. The pizza took less time than takeout and was wayyy better.

 I want it known that I froze most of this and we did not just go hog wild eating bread until we popped. Well, we popped a little, but I will still have lots of yummy bread next week too. Sunday we spent picnicking and lounging in the park. The weather has really warmed up and it was great to spend the day outdoors as a family. Later as we were lounging the deer came by on their nightly stroll. I usually miss them because as soon as they hear my screen door open, and my camera beeping and buzzing as it goes on, they run away. This time I let them pass without my accosting and then I made use of my zoom lens. I will remember this technique in future. It's such a funny paradox to see these beautiful wild creatures in our urban environment. You never get used to it, no matter how many times you see a wild animal, it is still a bit of a surprise. I was glad to capture these two beauties.

Bountiful Beauty

Having just returned from the loving arms of my family, I have a single day to get ready for school and say a final adieu to the summer for the year. How do I spend my final day? Squeezing in one last relaxing day, drinking coffee and blogging, of course. We had an amazing time, as usual, and ate fantastic food. The theme of the party is the smoked salmon that my uncle prepares for the year and that is the reason we have entitled our celebration "Smokefest." Here, my cousin is laying the salmon onto the racks to go into the smoker. They have been marinating in the brine over night. These tomatoes were quite delicious as well, made with balsamic vinegar, parmesan cheese and melted with ooey gooey brie cheese on top. We got to bring home a couple of the smoked salmon. My husband has eaten it all already. Lucky for us, we know exactly where to find more. Now, this party is certainly not what I would categorize as frugal, per se, however, next time, I will let you in on some of the trade secrets of a lady I know that lives here. She has a secret room. What is in that secret room? Well, let's just say that she is the freakin' Queen of Frugalistas. She is the original, the bonafide bodacious bountiful Bernice. If ever there is a natural disaster, or if ever I just feel like falling off the grid of society, I am going to live with her. Stay tuned...

Ahnahnsisi

This post features a great artist that I have the pleasure and fortune of knowing. His name is Ahnahnsisi. He is a Woodland artist, this is the name of his style of native artwork, but I think there are many other forces at work here as well. The way in which this man became a painter and sculptor is perhaps the strangest tale of all I have known and I will do my best to convey it to you, my faithful seventeen followers. About ten, no twelve, years ago, I was a young, broken-hearted woman who had moved to the city of Vancouver, British Columbia to find that elusive thing we call Self. I thought that Self must be hiding there, because it was such a cool city. Therefore, being so cool, my Self must be there somewhere. I searched in laundromats, coffee houses, parks, bars and nightclubs. I even searched in college for a year or so. While I was doing all this searching, I happened to land myself upon the available couch of my cousin Sherrie, a woman who deserves her very own blog entry, or perhaps an entire novel, so I will delve no further into her for the moment. Sherrie happened to be married to this guy, this half-Ojibwa, half-Scottish combination of hilarity and street smarts, whom I have known since I was ten, as Cousin Donnie. They weren't always married, they have a child, a girl child, Jake. Yes, a girl named Jake. Oh man, these posts are going to get out of control. Let's stick with Donnie. No, Ahnahnsisi. Back to him...

When I got to the city, famished and exhausted, he took me to get me something to eat. He picked me up (with little Jakey, who was wearing a tiara) at the bus station in a taxi, which I thought was very charming. I noticed he said, "Happy New Year," to everyone he met. He always asked receptionists how they were doing before he stated his business. Whether they were cabbies or lawyers, everyone got the same treatment. Most people, including myself, were very pleasantly surprised by this. In the ever increasingly cynical world in which we live, here was a smiling man who was wishing happiness and prosperity to everyone he met. Donnie showed me the ropes in that city. This is a falafel. That guy sells drugs. That guy sells ass. Yes, she's a hooker. Yes, a real one. This is an Americano, the lifeblood. That way to cheap breakfast. This way to cheap beer. I soaked it all in. Being a small town girl, he was giving me pearls and I knew it. I remember him taking me to the student union bar at UBC so I could check out cute guys with potential futures.

He was studying to be a lawyer, about to take the LSATs if I do recall, and then it happened: Donnie got hit by a bus. He said he was on his bike, parked, standing next to the bus stop and the driver came up fast to the stop and knocked him clear off his bike. He sustained quite a traumatic head injury, of which he is still suffering the consequences today.

All I remember is everything changing after that. I got a roommate and moved out of the apartment building and some other crazy things happened and life went on in another direction. I sometimes wonder if it truly is all random or if things really do happen for a reason. All I know is the next time I saw Donnie, he wasn't the same guy anymore. You might say he was Ahnahnsisi now. It was a few years later and he hardly knew me. Oh sure, he knew of me, had heard stories and seen some photos, but all of my fun memories with him were mine and mine alone now. It was almost as if I had made it all up in my head. It took me some time to accept this.

I think he gradually got some things back. He did become a lawyer. He is and always was an amazingly intelligent man. And now he paints these amazing works of art.

I say; The bus knocked the paintings out of him.

But what the hell do I know?