Why Dylan Farrow (and other victims) should be believed

I read today that the chances of being stuck by an asteroid were statistically higher than having false memory syndrome or lying about being sexually assaulted.  This does not surprise me at all.  In recent weeks, there has been considerable virtual ink about the resurfaced allegations by Dylan Farrow that she was sexually molested by her one-time stepfather, Woody Allen. 

These allegations were first made some 20 years ago and resulted in no charges being laid because of the vulnerability (read: presumed lack of reliability) of the child making them.  However, Allen was denied custody of all the children he shared with Mia Farrow, his partner of the time.  Their union ended after she found nude pictures of her daughter, Soon Yi Previn and learned of a relationship between Allen and her oldest child.  Dylan's allegations emerged shortly after this and were brought to light by a paediatrician.  After Allen again refuted the charges, Dylan offered point-by-point rebuttal of Allen's denials.

The public discourse around this case has been distressing, to say the least.  "No charges were ever laid," seems to be the de facto response of many pundits and members of the public.  Surely, we are not all so naive that we believe that the criminal justice system is immune to error.  The basic tenet of the legal systems in the United States and Canada is that it's better to let a guilty man go free than send an innocent one to jail.  The decision not to press charges against Woody Allen was a subjective one, which without question was influenced by Allen's celebrity status. 

I've noticed that people find it easier to compartmentalize Allen's talents as a cinema auteur which is argued has nothing to do with his personal predilections.  Similar stances were also taken with respect to Elia Kazan, who was known to have named names for the McCarthy's blacklist.  In 1999, Kazan was to receive an honourary Academy Award for his body of work.  The argument was that time had passed, the Cold War was over and that his body of work spoke for itself.  However, I would contend as did others, that you cannot separate the artist and his work.  One informs the other.  Kazan's betrayal destroyed countless careers and lives.  Yes, he made some good movies, but he should not have been celebrated in light of his personal acts.  Similarly, Allen, whose receipt of a Lifetime Achievement Golden Globe prompted Dylan Farrow to rearticulate her allegations against him, should not be celebrated.  Would we excuse any of history's most heinous criminals of their crimes had they been virtuosos in some field?  I think not.

Another compartmentalizing approach toward Woody Allen focused with his affair and subsequent marriage to Soon Yi Previn.  The ick factor of a 56 year old man cavorting with a 19 year old woman (barely that) was obvious.  That Woody Allen was not a handsome man heightened the ick factor.  However, disturbing though it was, it was not as morally reprehensible as the alleged sexual abuse was.  It was more comfortable to chide him for craddle robbing than making the obvious linkages to child sexual abuse.  Over time, they became just another celebrity couple.  In Hollywood and elsewhere, memories are short.

The other upsetting aspect of the public response to Farrow's allegations against Allen has been decidedly gendered.  The lens of scrutiny applied to girls and women who make sexual abuse claims is noticeably sharper than those applied to boys and men.  Girls and women are more often accused of False Memory Syndrome than boys and men.  Remember the chances of being hit by an asteroid are higher than someone lying about being sexually abused.  The presupposition is that no male would make up such a claim because it was too humiliating.  Guess what?  It's equally humiliating for females to admit to having been sexually abused. 

The microscopic scrutiny that women are subjected to only exacerbates the humiliation. When male hockey players or football players go public with claims of sexual abuse, public outrage is swift and demanding of punitive measures.  However, invariably when women come forth, the reaction tends to be more guarded.  Her motives and her role in the alleged abuse are questioned.  Further still, the spectre of false memory is suggested, particularly if the victim is a child.  The prevalence of sexual abuse of girls is significantly higher than boys and yet, time and time again, their veracity of their allegations is questioned.

Such a public case is unique with respect to sexual abuse.  Few cases are ever reported upon so widely.  The celebrity attached to this case adds a level of sensationalism that the public and media feed upon.  Having said that, Dylan Farrow already had access to fame via her very famous mother, Mia Farrow.  She is an adult with a family of her own and has changed her name to distance herself from the world of fame.  She has made no financial claims against Woody Allen, so that cannot be the motivation behind her reassertion of these claims.  Her reason for coming forth again is so painfully obvious that many seemed to have missed.  She wants the truth to be know.  A wise friend once said that if it feels wrong and it feels like abuse, it's abuse.  Simple as that.  Clearly, Dylan Farrow felt what Allen did was wrong and it felt like abuse.  Enough said.  Believe her.

I'm BACK

Well, I suppose that five years is an unnaturally long sabbatical, but apparently I got waylaid.  I am rebooting this blog, because it feels right.  I still love my chai and need an outlet to share what is my cup of chai and and what is not.   I am facetiously renaming this blog "my (second) cup of chai" to recognize my prolonged absence as well as the second thoughts that various things deserve. 

So without further adieu, I offer my (second) cup of chai!

True Colors - Deer Lake Park, July 2, 2008

Hello Bloggers, my old friends. I have been out of touch for a while, but I think about blogging, so that has to count for something. I meant to return to the blog earlier in the month, but life just got in the way. Oh yeah, and that darned facebook thing. I definitely will have to find a 12-step program soon. It'll probably be virtual and I will likely become addicted to that too.

So July started off with bang for me. While my fellow Canadians may have celebrated our nation's founding (or appropriating, depending on your perspective), I waited until July 2 to celebrate. My sister and I went to see True Colors, Cyndi Lauper's palooza supporting equality for all, particularly the gay, lesbian, bisexual, transsexual communities. We bought the expensive tickets that would allow us to meet Ms. Cyndi and gave us some great seats. The show featured Carson Kressley, Nona Hendryx, Joan Armatrading, Rosie O'Donnell, Sarah Mclachlan, The B52s, and Cyndi Lauper. The venue was Deer Lake Park in Burnaby. It was simply amazing.

While I was excited about meeting Cyndi Lauper, I was really hoping to meet Rosie. You see I have loved Rosie for a very long time. I am an avid reader of her blog and agree with a lot of what she has to stay on the American political situation. I started emailing her asking if she'd meet my sister and me whilst we were visiting with Cyndi. At the time, I didn't realized that our "meeting" with Cyndi was only to take one photo and virtually no chit chat. I know, I am naive. I tried to use the fact that I was turning 40 and my sister just turned 50 and that this would be a great present for both of us to elicit a response, but Rosie never replied. She gets thousands of emails and probably feared me as a stalker.

While waiting to enter the venue, my bodacious friend saw Rosie getting out of her tour bus. My friend yelled "hello Rosie" and Rosie waved back. When I was told this, I admitted my jealousy.

Joan Armatrading was playing as we waited to go backstage for our pix with Cyndi. My sister loves Joan, so I offered to go up close and get a picture. On my way back, I saw her. I did a double-take. Could it really be? Among us mere mortals? Indeed it was: ROSIE! Okay, brain engage. If you don't take the chance, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I walked over, half-expecting some nearby bodyguard to tackle me. I shook her hand and said something I am certain was goofy. I shook her hand again, to make sure that I had done it. I asked if she'd sign my copy of her book. She said she had to go on in a bit, but perhaps later. I thanked her, told her that I was among her bloggers, all the while fearing a 300 lb security guard. I could tell that I was bothering her because I know she loves Joan Armatrading, but she was still very polite to me. And for that I was so grateful! After snapping a few pix, I did my happy dance back to my sister. Famous people are known for disappointing their fans because expectations are so high.
Meeting Cyndi Lauper was cool and I have a picture of it, but the real highlight is that I got to meet Rosie and I was not disappointed.

Rosie's set was also very good. I managed to snag a place right at the stage and took way too many pictures. Her humour was filled with pathos. Rosie's pain was palpable even through all of the laughter. Perhaps because I am on her blog quite frequently, that I was familiar with what she had to say. Nevertheless, sitting there, listening to her talk, was like being with an old friend.

The whole show was amazing. Carson Kressly was a good emcee. I enjoyed his humour, although he may want to expand his repertoire a little. Although I didn't know Nona Hendryx's music, I loved her performance and energy. Joan Armatrading voice was so rich and soothing. Sarah McLachlan just fed off the hometown energy and gave back as much as she received. She was clearly happy to be on stage again. Her voice has become even more beautiful with time. The B52s really cranked up the audience's energy to insane party levels. That band is tight and boy (or girl, if that's your preference) did they sound good!

And Cyndi, well, what can I say? That girl can sing. It's really hard to reconcile her speaking voice which is uneven, squeaky-pitched with a distinct Brooklyn accent, with her singing voice which is simultaneously robust and ethereal. She more than held her own with Mclachlan's powerhouse voice when two did a haunting duet of Time After Time. You can feel the passion she has for her music, her cause and most of all, her audience. Because I was seated in an exclusive area, I got to watch all the professional photographers desperately try to capture Cyndi as she moved closer and closer to her audience and out of their clear lens view. I was happy to see that her priorities were clearly in order.

When Cyndi broke into Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, the audience, including me, went nuts. This was the theme song of my teen years. It was the song with which we won our air band competition. I told Cyndi this backstage. I am sure she just thought I was a weirdo. Rosie played the timbales and Margaret Cho appeared on stage out of nowhere. Wish she had performed.

The light was fading into darkness. Fireflies came out to enjoy the show, all sparkling and popping. You could tell that even they were having a great time. Cyndi and the rest of the performers, minus Joan Armatrading, closed the show singing Sly and the Family Stone's Everyday People and Cyndi's own True Colors. Big Giant coloured balls were released into the audience. The fireflies swayed to the music. A warm summer breeze shimmered through the weeping willows. And for those moments, the message of True Colors was our lived reality. Hope existed. It was possible to live united, without prejudice.


Thank you Cyndi Lauper for letting your true colours shine through.

Now if only one of them had a limp...

I have been wanting to weigh in on the US democratic and presidential races for quite some time, but feel like it's all been said. Interestingly, the last few weeks have raised the issue of race in a more meaningful way than it has been thus far. Mostly, the discussion around racism has been simplistic -- black and white, if you will. However, more recently, some footage of Barack Obama's pastor-cum-mentor, Jeremiah Wright, emerged in which he gave a sermon castigating the Clintons and the rich, white elites of that country for their systemic perpetuation of racism. A week prior, Geraldine Ferraro, a member of Hilary Clinton's campaign, said that Obama would not be where he was politically had he not been black. Her suggestion was more to say that just as she had benefitted by being a woman on the political scene when Walter Mondale chose her as his vice-presidential running mate, his blackness too was benefitting him at this point in history.

Both Ferraro and Wright have stepped down as advisors to Clinton and Obama. In their wake, the pundits have had a field day and each candidate has been left to pick up the pieces. Clinton distanced herself from Ferraro's comments, saying that these were not views she shared. She was attacked by the media and her opponents for not being stronger in her disavowal of Ferraro's comments as well as the woman herself. Obama held a press conference where he gave a speech denouncing Wright's sermons, but defiantly refusing to disavow the man himself. In doing so, he raised the level of the national dialogue which was stuck in a simple racial binary to a point where the complexities and nuances of race were finally named. From what I have read so far, the pundits are lauding this speech and are deeming it to be on par with Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech. Cynic that I am, I suspect that this attempt at a critical discussion about race will not go anywhere. More than likely, the blacks and the whites will just go to their separate corners. And of course, all the other races will have to share in the more pigmented corner.

I first saw Barack Obama on the Oprah Winfrey show a couple of years back. I was very impressed. I knew that he would be a great leader if he ever chose to run for president. I continued to support him until a few months ago, when I realized that despite his eloquence, the substance of his political views was far more right wing than my own. Coupled with that have been the horribly sexist attacks against Hilary Clinton. Apparently, sexism is still an acceptable practise in politics and the media. While I continue to be upset by Clinton's support of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, her political views are much closer to mine than Obama's. So with a heavy heart, I switched camps (bearing in mind that as a Canadian, I am not able to vote in the States). I believe that what I experienced is similar to what many US democrats have felt. However, it seems more have gone from Clinton to Obama, swayed largely by his eloquent unifying messages.

On the more divisive front, we have Republican nominee and former P.O.W., John McCain whose recent turnabout and support of the torture of prisoners is indicative what his governing style will look like. And it doesn't look good. The ghosts of Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld linger all too closely. McCain has said that the war in Iraq could go on for a hundred years. This suggests no evidence of an exit strategy. Nobody wants this. This offers no hope.

Hope and change are the cornerstones of Obama's campaign message. They suggest a very sexy prospect, but can they be realized? I cannot say definitively. Clinton also calls for change, but for most, she seems to be lacking in the hope department. Her ties to former President Clinton and the old boys network of politics hinders her. As do, poorly tailored clothes, thick ankles, bad hair and any other entirely shallow and irrelevant attacks that would never be hurled against a male candidate.

What sealed the deal for me was in a New York Times Op. Ed. piece Gloria Steinem pointed out, among many things, that if Barack Obama was a woman, he never would have advanced politically as he had. Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman to ever attempt to become a presidential nominee, noted that gender was always a far greater barrier to her career than her skin colour. Were she still alive, I am sure that everyone would want to know who she would support.

As a feminist, it would give me great joy if Hilary Clinton wins the democratic race. However, as a woman of colour I will not be too disappointed if Obama wins either. My concern is whether these two can come together at the end of it all and present a unified front. My greatest worry is that the divisiveness of this contest (for that is really what it is), will give way to another four to eight years of Republican chaos, not just in the US, but for the rest of the world. Things are getting a bit ugly between the Clinton and Obama camps. Politics are like that. However, will the victor (or victoria, as the case may be) have the resources (and I'm not talking money here because there's been enough money spent/wasted on these campaigns to feed and give health care to a whole lot of people) to unify their party and gather the national support necessary to avoid another four to eight years of Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld type insanity.

For the sake of all of us, I hope so.

They tried to make me give up sulfites, I said "no, no, no"

So on February 1st, I had this major allergic reaction. My lips swelled up to about five times their normal size. I called my sister the pharmacist who suggested Benadryl. I only had the kids' version. She figured out an appropriate dose for me. About a half hour later the swelling had spread. Long story short, she took me to Emergency. The result was about three hours of observation, a shot of epi, and some prednisone. I may have had the beginnings of an anaphylactic reaction (who knew it could happen so slowly?) or what's known as an angioedema, unexplained swelling. The only thing I could assume that triggered the reaction was a bottle of French wine, one of the Nouveu Beaujolais. Further deduction led me to believe that it may have contained a high quantity of sulfites.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I enjoy my wine. The thought that I might be allergic to them was fairly traumatic. A few days later I tried some of our u-vin wine. No reaction. However, sporadically throughout the month of February, I'd break out in hives. They were very hot and itchy. Clearly, my body was reacting to something.

I had already been scheduled for allergy testing for other reasons and the plan was to have this appointment moved up. Managed to visit the allergist last week and I told him my tale. He gave me a standard allergy test, which included many pokes and exposure to various potential allergens. My arm turned beet red. I had bumps for every poke, the most significant being for cats. He said that because I had been getting hives so frequently, that this test wasn't going to work for me and that I'd have to have a blood test. I told him about my sulfite theory and he agreed that this may be the case. He recommended a daily dose of Reactine to see if the hives would calm down. I told him that I had tickets to the wine festival, he laughed. He said that I definitely should take Reactine beforehand.

Flash forward to Saturday night to the Vancouver Wine Festival . Indeed, I took the antihistamine. It worked. I was fairly tentative in my wine-tasting at first, but during the course of the night, I was thrilled that I was having no reaction to the wines. I was able to relax (I'm sure the wine helped here) and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Side note: I have not seen so many people with red complexions (including my many trips down South) as I did that night. Clearly, I am not the only person to be affected by the wine!

I have started to research sulfite allergies and am learnig that they tend to affect the respiratory system more than the skin. So now, I am not sure that sulfites are the culprit. Nonetheless, I will continue my course of Reactine for the next little while and see what happens. Between my husband's gluten allergy and my potential sulfite sensitivity, the journey to 40 is turning out to be more challenging than I had expected.

And the winner is...

Well, the Oscars are on tonight. As per the last several years, a few friends will come over for our annual Oscar "party". The idea of us having an Oscar party is quite bizarre really. Originally, we started doing this because we used to go to the movies a lot (pre-child) as did our friends (who now don't go to movies for reasons I can't quite figure out). Now, we see very few movies, but the ritual is still there. Watching the Oscars is more fun when you're eating (as most of my friends are not real drinkers) and gabbing with friends.

On the menu tonight is steak. Seems fitting for an Oscar soiree. I will accompany them with fingerling potatoes and some sort of veggie side dish. Because of the gluten free thing, I will be attempting to make a flourless chocolate cake. If that doesn't work out, there's always fruit and ice cream. These are the advantages of having a reasonably well-stocked home.

I have seen three of the Oscar nominated films. Juno is my pick for many awards, because really, who ever thought a movie about teenage pregnancy could be the feel-good picture of the year. I have also seen Ratatouille and just assume that will win best animated. I also saw Away From Her more than a year ago at the Vancouver International Film Festival. Julie Christie was very good in this film, but I really feel that Gordan Pinset has been robbed of the acclaim he so rightly deserves for this performance. Problem is, everyone has heard of Christie, while Pinset remains one of Canada's best kept secrets.

I am finding that I am feeling oddly nationalistic about the Oscars, hoping for wins for Sarah Polley for her adaptation of Alice Munro's work for Away From Her. I also wouldn't mind Juno, which was filmed here in Vancouver, starring Halifax's Ellen Page and directed by Canadian born Jason Reitman to pick up some hardware. Needless to say, one of the Canadian short films better win the Oscar as well. I tend to get nationalistic whenever we are in a competition with America for whatever reason. With respect to the Oscars, it's such a celebration of excess, I like to believe that Canadian victories will temper the rah-rah-ness of it all.

Oh who am I kidding. I am happy that the writer's strike is over and I can be a spectator in all the pomp and circumstance that is the Oscars. It's Oscar's 80th year, so I am hoping that they will doing something interesting by way of tribute for all of us old-school film buffs.

In the meantime, happy viewing, eating and imbibing everyone.

Gluten is the new blog

I've been away from my own blogging for some time.  Put my foot in the water and it got wet.  Go figure.  Lots of stuff happening in my life (lives).  On the eating front, hubby has been diagnosed with Celiac disease.  This means that his body cannot absorb gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and other flours.  His intestine has been damaged, but a life-long, gluten-free diet will restore.  Or at least this is what we are led to believe.

The problem -- is and you know that there is always a problem -- gluten can be found in just about everything.  Flour is the great food binder.  Apart from the usual cakes, cookies, breads and other yummy treats, wheat and its derivatives can be found in all kinds of things, including, but not limited to soya sauce, deli meats, worcestershire sauce, pasta, and  most fast foods.  

The good news,  and yes one can always find some, is that we live in a city where gluten-friendly food can be found.  My favourite place so far is Choices, a local market chain that has really tapped into the niche market of GF grocery items.  Additionally, they have their own bakery, which generates some relatively palatable  baked goods.  They also mark their grocery shelves with a blue label to indicate whether or not a food item is gluten free.  It is important to read the ingredients anyway, but this blue label system certainly helps gear us neophyte GF shoppers in the right direction.

So this is all well and good, as long as you are doing your own cooking (and I haven't even begun to talk about cross-contamination issues yet), however (and you knew that there would be a "however") going out to eat is a far more daunting task.  The conventional wisdom is that the better (i.e. the more expensive) the restaurant, the more likely that your meal will be made to your specifications.  We tried this during Dine Out Vancouver at the Savory Coast restaurant.  I emailed them in advance, my husband spoke with them before we went and our server seemed to know about gluten.  We both had the steak, which we have been told is a safe GF bet, and were delighted that flourless chocolate cake was among the dessert options.  Nevertheless, the food did not agree with my husband.  Somewhere, somehow gluten had found its way in to his food.

Needless to say, the restaurant thing is a work in process.  He's had better luck with sushi as long has he uses his own GF tamari and even at Red Robin, which he says were very accommodating.  On a recent visit to White Spot, I asked about GF options, they let me have a look at their allergy binder.  Unfortunately, my husband will not be able to eat about 95 per cent of the food on the menu; however, the manager said that they would be willing to accommodate his special needs.  We will have to test this one out. 

My daughter and I have not gone completely gluten-free.  My daughter is a very fussy eater, so we already don't always eat the same things.  As a result, cross-contamination is a big issue in our house.  I am forever washing my hands between handling his food and her food.  I throw any cloths that have been used to wipe down counters or wash dishes which may have any gluten residue.  This is also a work in process.  I am keenly aware that even a microscopic amount of gluten can affect my husband adversely. 

I am certain that I will continue to chronicle our new GF lifestyle in this blog.  BTW, the masala tin up top is completely gluten free!That's not why I included it.  I just liked the picture.

the aftermath

In many ways, I feel as though I have just started to rise from the ashes.  This blog has been on my mind, but I have not been able to find "quiet" time in which to post. 

Vancouver's three civic strikes are now finally over.  The aftermath continues.  The sexy one, garbage, is still being sorted out, with many of us anxiously awaiting the removal of our mounds of recycling and green stuff.  The inside workers return is more personally resonant for me as it has meant a return to preschool for my kid.  This is something we both needed after the longest summer break ever.  These two unions basically got the same deal as the rest of the GVRD (ahem, Metro Vancouver) cities, but just had to wait longer for it. 

Then, there are the librarians.  I used to be library phobic.  Imagine how I managed to get my Master's degree and being a bibliotheque-phobe.  But there it is.  I've now admitted it publicly.  I think it has something to do with old books and the number of people and stuff that have touched them.  I have never liked the smell of libraries, all old and musty.  However, since the birth of my child, I have really come to value libraries and the people who work in them.  They offer such a wide assortment of programs, resources and support for anyone who needs it.  This is very cool.

I never realized, but was not surprised when I learned that the main issue for library workers was pay equity.  You see, library workers are largely women.  And as per usual, our work is not as valued as that of men.  This is the patriarchal reality.  Nonetheless, these workers decided to take on "the man" as it were and have this issue addressed.  In solidarity with the inside and outside workers, they may have had a chance.  However, when those two unions settled, we knew that it was all but over for the library workers.  They went back to work on Monday.  The only concession they got was a study group into the issue of wage parity.  How very Canadian!

I suspect that nothing will really materialize from this group.  Kind of like Canada's various Royal Commissions, at most, they will be a dog and pony show, without either animal.  I am not certain what galls me more:  the fact that women are still fighting for pay equity; or, that people still don't realize that women are still making less money than men for equal work.  So many seem to believe that "women's rights" have been achieved and that our struggle is over.  Not by a long shot baby!  We are almost a decade into the 21st century and women's work remains devalued.

I admire and congratulate those who tried to fight this battle.  I have tremendous respect for your efforts.  We all need to speak out about this injustice.  We have to do it not only for ourselves, but our daughters.  We should leave them this shameful inheritance.

 

 

Technorati Tags: Vancouver civic strike, Vancouver Public Library (VPL), pay equity, women's rights

September round-up

The seasons have changed quickly.  Last time I posted, all the windows were open and I was wearing shorts.  Now I have donned my pjs, the heater is on and it's blustery outside.  Fall has fallen and hard.

I finished sanding and painting my stairs just before the weather turned -- and we're talking hours here.  Husband and child returned from their vacation to find me injured.  Nope, not from working on the stairs, but rather from guilt-inspired house cleaning.  This is proof positive that neither guilt nor cleaning are healthy activities.  I seemed to have aggravated a previously pinched nerve.  I am on the mend now.

It was a good week to be alone, with my thoughts and then with my friends.  Ate some good food.  My friend the poet and I went to La Rocca on the Drive.  We shared a tomato and bocconcini salad and then I had the veggie cannelloni.  Both were good.  The service and atmosphere (including an opera singing server who serenaded a nearby diner with a birthday tune) were very pleasant.  The washrooms were clean and functional.  Everything was surprisingly affordable.  Moreso, because my friend picked up the tab.

I was treated by my sister the following night to a belated birthday dinner at Gotham.  I was really looking forward to this place.  I had been told that I would see celebrities there.  I dunno if union guy, Ken Georgetti counts, because he was the only "famous" person who caught my eye.  The restaurant is huge and has some crazy ass spiral stairs (vertigo anyone ?) if you wish to visit the facilities. 

The service was good.  I want to say excellent, but a couple of the wait staff seemed to lack experience and knowledge.  We had to request a couple of things more than once.  I had been told by my friend the foodie, that this was the best steak in town.  Starting at around $40, I would hope so.  Indeed, the steak was very good.  The idea is that you order a huge steak, which you can share or take home leftovers, and share various family-sized (their term, not mine) side dishes.  We each opted for a New York striploin.  The steaks were cooked to perfection, but basically bland.  I had read somewhere that they could do anything you like to the steak, but that option was neither offered orally or on the menu.  So salt (and a bit too much of that) and pepper it was.

I enjoyed the experience, but was letdown by the lack of "wow' factor.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was certainly more than what was there.  My sister and I agreed that she made a better steak -- at least a more flavourful one.   And the washrooms were fine, but nothing memorable -- basic, clean and functional; that is, after you made it down two very, steep spiral staircases. 

The next night, some friends had me over for dinner at Chez Pagorgan.  This was indeed a delicious meal with Ahi tuna, accompanied by a wasabi mayonnaise, orzo and spinach.  A half chocolate cake topped off the meal.  What made the meal was that the company and conversation were great.  And their washrooms were very clean!  This was perhaps the best of my dining out experiences during my week of singledom.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, not much dining out.  The husband and child returned and re-entry has been hard.  The child who was well behaved through the whole trip, decided to punish the Mummy for her pseudo-abandonment.  The Mummy, who got quite used to here solitude, struggled with having to answer so many questions from her two loves.  Equilibrium, or some semblance of it, has finally resurfaced.

 

 We went for red meat and Cajun,

We ended up with poultry and Asian.

I can imagine my friend the poet cringing if she reads these words.  I am certainly not a poet, and don't she know it.  Groan, groan, groan!  My dining buddy and I resumed our once weekly dining out experience this week.  She wanted red meat and I suggested a new Cajun Creole restaurant on Cambie called Da-De-Oh!  They were closed, so I shall refrain from offering anymore information about them.  Who the hell closes their restaurant on a Wednesday night!?!

Wanting to support the suffering Cambie businesses, we went to Sate Satu.  I had attempted to go there once before when it was called Sate Express, but they were closed.  Are you detecting a pattern?  The service was good and friendly.  We were told that one of the owners of the former Express at returned to Indonesia and the remaining owner, along with a new partner, decided to chi chi up the place.  It looked a lot nicer than the previous take-away style decor.  We shared the appetizer platter, which had a sampling of everything on their appetizer menu.  It was all very good. 

We also shared some sate.  The menu noted that there would be six sticks per order, our choice of chicken, beef or pork.  I don't really eat pork, so we decided on chicken and beef.  Alas, we were foiled again as they were out of beef.  My friend suggested to me that they could have just run over to Choices across the street, to purchase beef, but unfortunately, they had not done that.  Anyway, we had all chicken.  It was disappointing.  They used thigh meat.  It was pretty bland and did not seem to be marinated in anything at all.  The peanut sauce was good, but there wasn't that much of it.  Frankly, my sate is much better. 

The wine list is small and reasonably priced.  My red wine tasted off and they offered me something else.  I opted for the white wine, since they had no other by-glass-reds.  It was fine.  The also have a small, but decent selection of reasonably priced bottled beer.  The washroom is clean.

We are off to see Loreena McKennitt tonight.  The civic strike has forced a venue change from the Orpheum to GM Place.  That's quite a change.  October starts tomorrow.  Lots of birthdays.  Things are going to be quite busy.

the pseudo-single life

A new template and new day. Actually, I swapped templates last night, but let's just keep that our little secret.

I have been living la vida loca lately. My husband and kid are out of town for eight days. While I should be sleeping, lolly gagging and partying like it's 1999 (for that is likely the last time I partied), I have been doing the the most heinous of chores. I have been prepping my outdoor stairs for repainting. I know, pretty dang exciting, but work that is much easier to do when one doesn't have to mind a very curious three-year-old. By prepping the stairs, I have mainly been sanding them, and sanding them, and sanding them. I still have about an hour's worth of sanding to do before I can actually start to paint.

It all started about two years ago when we had our old stairs replaced. I was assured by the fancy paint place that the latex/acrylic paint would be durable. The fancy paint store went out of business. My paint had already started to chip by then. And so here I am, sans husband and child, doing some pretty awful work. I have invested in a cheap mask and safety goggles, but my lungs still feel fairly sawdusty. And my muscles are just screaming "WTF" at me over and over again.

Okay, so my life is not entirely dreary. I do have my evenings stacked up with various dining excursions. Last night, my friend and I hit Habit (www.habitlounge.ca). The place had a nice vibe and the service was very good. I was kind of playing with the server and she tolerated me very well. The food, on the other hand, was kind of hit and miss. It is served tapas style, intended for sharing. We ordered the tomato and bocconcini salad, which came with pesto. This was delicious and inspired me for future parties. The other two dishes not so much.

We also shared the Moroccan style chicken wings that came with an orange and pomegranate sauce. Sounds yummy right? Well, they were just okay. The wings were lacking any kind of flavour infusion. The sauce was nice, but heavy on the coriander pods and light on the pomegranate seeds. We also ordered the perogies stuffed with yam, which they claimed to be their most popular offering. Here, the problem for us was texture. We both found the stuffing to be a tad too pureed, much like baby food. A little bit of chunkiness would have certainly improved their mouthfeel. The bathrooms had some pretty cool retro wallpaper and were very clean. I will likely check it out again, but -- and you knew this was coming --won't make a "habit" of it. Groan, groan, groan.

Next up, tonight I am not certain, but I am feeling like some seafood. Tomorrow night, we hit Gotham. In the meantime, my stairs await and my body protests.

the kindness of strangers

I was running some errands this afternoon. A young man with a cardboard sign was sitting on the pavement outside Shopper's Drug Mart. His sign read: Student. Hungry & Embarrassed. A camouflaged bucket hat lay before him for donations. As I passed him again, I noticed another man had stopped to ask if he wanted something to eat. He asked the "student" to pack his stuff and come with him. They walked behind us and the would-be benefactor asked the man about himself and what he did. He went to school and was a dishwasher at Denny's. The man took the student to a Subway restaurant (and I use that term loosely) which is where our paths diverged.

Living in the city, I tend to be cynical about panhandling. I also am very skeptical when matters such as poverty or pregnancy are overtly used as a means to solicit money. As a socially conscious person, this creates much dissonance for me. I understand the structural roots and functions of poverty. I know that many of those living in poverty are also working just to maintain their poverty level. This angers me to no end. We are living in one of the wealthiest nations in the world. No one should be without.

Nonetheless, I also know that many folks who panhandle do so because of substance and other abuse issues and do not want to offer money to feed potentially deadly habits. I also have read recently some explanations of the whole gutter punk culture and find it somewhat problematic. I have been aggressively panhandled and known people who have been physically assaulted when they've denied someone some "spare change". Here, I recognize that mental health issues are often significant factors in forcing folks to live on the street. Yet, I still struggle with the whole matter of giving or not giving.

Although I have given money to panhandlers before, I am generally reluctant to do so. I have occasionally purchased some food or water and passed it along, but really no more than that. However, what this man did for the hungry and embarrassed kid was quite remarkable. It was not so much that he was going to buy him something to eat, but the fact that he afforded this kid some dignity. He took the time to learn about this person who was so publicly and abashedly asking for help. It reminded me of a humanity that I like to believe lurks inside all of us. I was humbled by what he did. He is an example to all of us of how we can be and do better. For that, I honour this unknown man and thank him for reminding me that there some very good people in this world.

Wining and dining -- from Main St. to beyond

While the weather outside has been largely frightful, my dining experiences this summer have been fairly delightful.  I have been sticking reasonably close to my neighbourhood, but have ventured further afield on occasion.  No major new discoveries, I am certain, but experiences worth noting.

A friend and I went to the ever popular The Reef earlier in the summer.  As usual, the place was packed and not really conversation friendly.  The service was fairly good as was the food.  I had the chicken roti which was excellent.  I find overall the food there can be hit and miss, but for taste and value, I would recommend this dish.  The washrooms are clean and useable, which always wins points with me.

I have also been to Crave a few times.  Crave is located at the same site as the former Clews (which I did not visit) and The Big C (as in Chow), where I went for breakfast on a few occasions (good food, lousy coffee).  The service at Crave is excellent.  The food is okay.  The first time, I had the halibut and chips.  The fish was heavily battered and the fries, oversalted. 

The dining room is very small and acoustically, problematic.  However, on my second visit, my friend and I asked to be seated on the patio, which I remembered as being nice from The Big C days.  Indeed, it did not disappoint.  Surrounded by luscious herbs, the patio is a very pleasant place to spend an evening.  The food was somewhat better this time.  My friend and I shared some spicy popcorn shrimp which were generous and tasty.  I had a Caesar salad with a chicken add-on.  The latter was okay, but not spectacular.  There is a decent wine list, with some fairly drinkable and affordable wines available both by the glass and per bottle.  More points,  the washrooms are clean and well maintained.

The Main on Main, a family owned Greek restaurant, has also been a good spot for me this summer.  The first time we went for drinks.  The wine list is decent and very affordable.  The relaxing of BC ancient liquor laws now permits folks to have a drink without having to buy food at restaurants.  Nonetheless, the mid-wine munchies got me and we ordered some calamari.  The dish was not as salty as at many of the local Greek places.  There were way too many raw (bleah!) onions for my liking, but the squid were still very edible.  We drank a very enjoyable Jackson Triggs VQA Sauvignon Blanc.

The next visit was a full meal deal.  I enjoyed the chicken souvlaki and of course, the very chocolaty Yellow Tail Shiraz.  Again, the price points were hard to beat.  The service was friendly on both visits, although the servers could learn a bit more about how to open and serve wine.  Hey, I can admit that I am snobby (about some things).  The washroom is dated, but functional and clean.

That night, we also went to Sweet Revenge Patisserie for coffee and dessert.  It has been some time since I have been.  I ate the Sweet Revenge cake which was good, but a little dry.  They have expanded the menu a lot since they first opened, so I shall have to try something new the next time.  They offer the option of shared carafes of pressed coffee, which is a nice alternative to the more common single cup option. 

A few nights back, we hit the Yaletown Brewing Company after being sticker shocked by most other places in the trendy neighbourhood.  We shared the fiery green beans, which were excellent and had quite the kick.  We also split the Italian sausage pizza, which was good, but lacking zap after having had the beans.  The "big ass" (their name, not mine) beer were indeed large as were their prices.  While I give kudos to their washrooms for having change tables for babies and toddlers, they also get a big thumbs down for not removing ashtrays from the stalls.  Boo!

All the Starbucks in Yaletown close early, so we ended up at Urban Fare (which is open until midnight) for coffee.  My decaf latte was rather enjoyable.  They have a water cooler and paper cups for those wanting water.  We watched a woman fill and old two litre coke bottle for her dog.  The lesson here is two-fold.  First, never underestimate the lack of consideration of the public at-large.  Second, think twice before drinking water from a publicly accessible water cooler.

Tonight, my foodie friend suggested that we go to La Buca, a chi chi poo poo, neighbourhood restaurant located in the Mackenzie Heights area of town (I wonder if it's still called that???).  The clientele was much older than the crowds I have been encountering on Main.  The layout is much like a bistro and not unlike Crave.  However, for the most part, the acoustics were much better. 

The wine list is mainly Italian (not my favorite) and some Spanish.  The prices varied from affordable to not-so cheap.  We had the Di Majo Norante Ramitello (I had to cut and paste that), a very dry red wine from the Molise region.   The food was pretty fine.  I had a taste of my friend's appetizer of stuffed zucchini blossom, delicately filled with a ricotta mixture.  For our entrees, she had the ravioli stuffed with prawns and I had the Tuscan steak.  Both were very tasty and well presented.  I also enjoyed the strong coffee flavors in the tiramisu.  Unfortunately, by the time we ate dessert, they had overfilled the table next to us and I felt as though the man at the end might as well the sat on my lap. 

The service was acceptable, but not top notch as would befit the caliber of restaurant they are trying to present.  Access to the one restroom involves a tricky maneuvering through the incredibly tiny and chaotic kitchen.  This also takes away from the experience and illusion of fine dining.

So apart from the usual visits to The Thai House, White Spot and Kitsilano Sushi with the kid and sometimes other family, these have been my dining out excursions this summer. 

Happy eating!

 

Technorati Tags: Main Street dining, The Main, Crave, The Reef, Sweet Revenge, Yaletown Brewing Company, La Buca, The Thai House, White Spot, Kitsilano Sushi

Shemina

A couple of weeks ago, I met a woman who was a friend of and worked with Shemina Hirji. She told me that she had been at the wedding and knew the couple. I asked her what she thought about the overt public speculation that Paul had killed Shemina. She said that she sincerely hoped not, but she was beginning to think that he might be guilty. There were tears in her eyes and I did not pursue the matter, simply offering her condolences for her loss.

Paul Cheema, widower and likely murderer of Shemina Hirji, committed suicide on Monday, August 27, 2007. His guilt seemed to have gotten the better of him. Now, two families each have a dead child. My initial reaction was why didn't he do it to himself first and that way Shemina would be alive. However, upon clearer thinking, I thought perhaps that had he gotten some sort of help in the first place, neither one would have had to die. What a horribly tragic situation for both families. Their children married about a month and half ago and now, they are both dead.

The police have not confirmed the death a suicide, but his family has. The police also have not verified the rumour that they were about to arrest him after having interviewing him just recently. Paul allegedly had made previous suicide attempts. Apparently, this is a common guilty action undertaken by those who have murdered someone about whom they cared.

I don't know how much of the truth will come out and who really deserves to hear it. A "friend" of the Cheema family said that the details of Shemina's death needed to be revealed for her family's sake. I don't know that this is necessarily the case. I've heard rumours that she was brutally (as if there is any other way) stabbed. I cannot fathom how making this information public will benefit the family in any way. I hope that both the families can find some way to deal with their losses and make some kind of peace with their pain.

In memory of a family friend

Last week, I went to a funeral for a man that I have known since childhood. He was a friend of my Dad's and our travel agent. We were also related through marriage as his brother is married to my dear cousin. Nizar "Nick" Manji died on August 11, 2007. He was one of those adults who was not condescending to kids. He always acknowledged me as a child. This is something children never forget.

When my Dad passed, Nick went out of his way to help us get decently priced tickets back to Ottawa. In those days, there wasn't much competition and a flight to central Canada usually cost around $800. He used some of his personal vouchers so we would not have to pay that much. An unforgettable gesture during a time of horrific grief.

Two years ago, there was a tragic accident on a north shore highway. A logging truck lost its load and a couple of logs went over the median and landed onto a car that was heading in the opposite direction. The driver and passenger, a mother and daughter, were instantly killed. This was Nizar's family. In an instant, they were gone, dying in the most unfathomable way.

Thousands of people came to the funeral. It was a media circus. These deaths shook the Ismaili community and we were out in full force. Understandably, Nick's grief was palpable. However, when I offered him my condolences, he looked at me the same way he did when I was a child. Even in pain, he remembered that kid who used to hang out with her Dad and acknowledged her. That was the last time I saw him alive.

A while back he was diagnosed with cancer. Things happened quickly and now he is gone. His funeral was not the spectacle of his wife and daughter's funeral. It was a simple funeral for a man who lived and then, died.

The Ismaili senator was there. She is friend's with Nick's cousin who seemed to be his primary caregiver. She was minding her grandson. The Senate is on its summer break. She used to be my Mum's lawyer. She has not changed. She looks the same. I had my daughter with me and we talked, mainly about kids. For some reason, she showed me her tattoos. Needless to say, one of them is the maple leaf. It was kind of funny. She seemed uncertain where the lunch would be and asked if she could follow me. Given that I generally don't agree with her politics, I was impressed by her lack of pretense. The tattooed senator was there to support her friend and look after her grandson.

The lunch that followed was an intimate gathering at his apartment complex. We were invited mainly due to our family connection. His brother brought out a couple of albums. One was a scrapbook that Nizar had made to honour his lost daughter. The other was pictures of him with family and friends which seemed to be taken after his diagnosis. These albums, those of us who knew him and were touched by his life are all that remains of his existence. His wife and daughter are gone. An entire family is no more.

I'm not sure what happens after we die. The fantasy is that we reunite with loved ones. While this is a comforting explanation, I just don't know if I can buy it. Mostly, I find comfort in knowing that death means the end of physical and emotional pain and suffering. Nizar no longer has to miss his family and live with the pain of their loss. At long last, I hope that he is at peace.

yet another anniversary blog

So about a year ago, I stopped going to McDonald's. I never thought the day would come. I grew up eating McDonald's. It was the fast food of choice. I remember going there before our major bi-monthly shopping excursions with my Mum and Dad. Mum and I would take the bus to Dad's work and the three of us would go to the golden arches after Dad deposited his pay cheque at the bank. That's how it was done back then. The three of us would eat for less than $10. Mum would never order a full meal for herself, choosing to pick off fries from Dad and me.

Flash forward about 25 plus years. I took my daughter to McDonald's for lunch one day. I ordered one of their chicken salads and found some beef schmutz in it. I complained to a worker who offered to replace it. I asked to speak to a manager. After a long wait, he emerged, quited annoyed that I had bothered him. "It happens, but not a lot," he lamely explained. He was miffed when I asked for a refund. Hope it came out of his pocket! I wrote a strong letter of complaint suggesting that I may notify the local health board or whomever looks into matters of poor food handling. For this, I received an apologetic phone call from some PR hack. I asked her if I would be receiving anything in writing, she informed me that customers much preferred the human contact of a phone call. I was and am curious about how they discerned this fact. Did they ask each complainant at the end of their call if they were satisfied with the response? I can assure you that I was not. My guess is that their crack legal team has advised them never to put anything into writing. It might suggest culpability.

A month later, we decided to try another McDonald's after we were running late for lunch and there was little else around. This time, I was told that I had to buy my daughter a toy with her Happy Meal. Apparently, this piece of plastic is what makes kids happy. I am sure it does the same for stockholders. Again, I asked to speak to the manager, who basically shouted at her staff to inform me that my only other option was to buy a dessert or forfeit the money. She could not be bothered talk to me directly and certainly would not share her name. This time I called the PR woman who had called me previously about my complaint. She was not there, but someone else listened to my wrath and said that the matter would be dealt with swiftly. A few hours later, a very contrite manager from yet another McDonald's called me. He had been mistakenly told that I had had my issue with his restaurant. Regardless, he apologized and offered to send me gift certificates for my next meal. I advised him that I would not be dining there again. He insisted and took my address, etc. I figured I'd pass them along to my Mum. Needless to say that the certificates have yet to manifest. For the first time in more than thirty years, I have not eaten at McDonald's for an entire year.

Is my absence hurting their business? Likely not, although I have heard that their business is down. Simply a coincidence. Perhaps. I'd like to think of it as karma, but of course, that would be bad karma. I would like to say that the void of Rotten Ronnies in my life has been filled with healthy nosh. Not so much. Fast food abounds. We hit White Spot a lot more than we used to and their fast food satellite Triple Os. I saw Morgan Spurlock's Supersize Me at some point during the year and am glad that I have cut out McD's from my life. Now, I need to stop with all the other less than healthful food. This will likely happen soon.

On an unrelated note, Merv Griffin died today from prostate cancer. He was 82. I obviously did not know the man. We shared a birthday. I remember watching his show in the afternoons when I was a kid. I think that he and Mike Douglas and even, Dinah Shore are responsible for my love of talk shows. They just don't make them like that anymore. Now, it's all about gimmicks and giveaways, the talk has all gone. RIP Merv!

The Anniversary Blog

Happy 12th Anniversary to my dear husband Jim! My how time flies! It seems like yesterday we were just hanging out at the Oak, and baby, look at us now!

Saw Sicko this week. It made me ill. The travesty that is the American health care (or rather lack of care) system is beyond belief. So much unnecessary suffering whilst the powers that be continue to line their pockets with money -- money that is soaked in blood. This seems to be the only kind of money that the politicos, especially in the States are interested making. Iraq anyone?

Michael Moore contrasts the American system with the British, French and Canadian health care systems. All are far better, although he does simplify matters for the masses. Just as I know that our health care system in Canada is flawed, I suspect that there are problems in the British and French systems too. Nonetheless, these seem minor in comparison to what our neighbours south of the border must endure. The real irony of this film is that it isn't about those without health care coverage, but rather about those who are "covered" and yet are consistently denied. Profit, profit, profit people and we just don't care who dies.

We are off to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix tonight. This is what happens when you get older. No sexy foreign films for us! Harry's been all the rage as of late with the release of the final book, about which I may have been spoiled. Oh well, perhaps I will forget. I admire J.K. Rowling for her savvy in parlaying the Potter books into such an empire. However, I cannot help but being saddened by the fact that years ago when asked why she didn't make her protagonist a female, she said that she had long recognized that such a book about a girl wouldn't sell. That is such a tragic reflection on the subtle sexism that women/girls continue to face in our so-called progressive societies.

Speaking of sexism, we have just completed our first week of a civil strike in Vancouver. The city's library workers walked out this week too. The main issue is wage parity. Apparently, the wage gap between library workers who are primarily women and the city's outside workers who are predominantly male, is about 20 per cent. It galls me that this is still happening. It galls me further that folks don't realize that women are still very far from being equal in every way. The uncollected garbage is not the only thing that stinks here.

Death, Celebration and the damn phone company

It's been an interesting week for me.  I was haunted by the death of Shemina Hirji, an Ismaili woman who was killed "allegedly" during a violent home invasion.  Interestingly, nothing was taken from the home and her husband only sustained minor injuries.  His violent, criminal past has come to light.  My suspicions and those of everyone else grow. 

In his past, he attempted to kidnap and uttered vicious threats against his ex-finacee and her family.  He served close to two years in prison for that.  Now, five days after marrying Shemina, she is killed under suspicious circumstances. Did Shemina know about his past?  No one is certain, but most assume not.

Along with about 3,000 others, I attended the funeral.  I did not know Shemina, but her face was so familiar.  Turns out that we were at SFU at the same time.  She finished a year before me.  I am certain that I had seen her up there and about.  I also went out of a sense of community.  The Ismaili community is one that I still feel connected to, but perhaps not a part of.  I am always welcome there.  Mostly though, I think I went because my feminist instincts necessitated that I do so.  For every woman killed at the hands of a man, I must grieve, before I can stand and fight. 

The next day was the Aga Khan's Golden Jubilee celebration.  This time 14,000 local Ismailis congregated to honour and celebrate 50 years of Imamat.  I went out of peer pressure.  I went out of curiousity.  I went to make my mother happy.  I went for a fleeting connection to community. 

It was the hottest day that Vancouver has had and wouldn't you know it, BC Place has no air conditioning.  It was cooler outside.  But the Ismailis are organized, so they had fans going, as well as bottled water and cardboard fans as giveaways.  It was nice to see some familiar faces.  Those who have aged and those who remain forever young.

My ongoing stressor for the week has been Telus.  They sent me a letter offering me one thing and yet refusing to give it to me saying that there was a misprint and today, that the offer has expired.  I am pissed.  It's more as sense of justice than anything else.  Besides, they have phoned me every day this week, including this morning where I was woken up on the one day I am allowed to sleep in.  Oy to the veh!

The Birthday Blog

Well here it is, my 39th birthday.  Already, many readers have turned off.  Who is this old chick doing a blog?  Pretty soon, there will be knitting patterns and recipes.  I can safely assure you that knitting patterns, tips or other related matters will likely never appear on this blog.  Recipes, perhaps, but usually I am too lazy to type them out.

Watched the news before I went to bed.  Bad idea.  Ismaili woman was killed in a "home invasion".  She had just married this past weekend to a Punjabi man.  His family opposed the union.  The media and I infer the same conclusion.  At least, I recognize that my perspective is racially constructed.  They just continue in their maintenance of the status quo.

Six Canadian soldiers died in a roadside bomb day before yesterday.  More senseless death due to a senseless war.  Is anyone still looking for Osama Bin Laden?  I am pretty sure given my three-year-old increasing proficiency at hide-and-go-seek, she could find him before the Bushman's people do.  In the meantime, so-called "peacekeepers" (although no more) from Canada continue to die.

The American president commuted "Scooter" Libby's jail sentence.  Another criminal is set free by the Bush administration.  Keith Olbermann did a great op ed rant about  the whole situation, concluding that even Nixon was patriotic enough to resign.  Bush is too much of a nitwit and Cheney is far too greedy.  Both are too arrogant.  Why are the American people so apathetic?  Is it there lack of choice?  Indecision 2008 looms.  The world must hold its breath, or perhaps its nose.

I share my birth date with GWB.  This causes me no end of consternation.  However, I also share it with the Dalai Lama.  I am the intersect of good and evil.  Perhaps, I am its true axis.

Got the husband unit to take the day off so we can all head to the beach.  I hope to get some sleep as tomorrow night (tonight), we shall eat.

Went for my soul sister's birthday to the Cannery.  They printed our names on the menus, gave us balloons and dessert.  We had a lovely time.  Those of us who had the salmon did end up with a ticklish tummy.  A sign of age perhaps...

Happy Birthday to me!

Tracy Chapman in my head

Last night I heard the screaming,

Behind the wall.

Another sleepless night for me,

It doesn't do no good to call, the police.

Always come late, if they come at all.

This is the song I hear in my head when I hear my next door neighbours fighting/yelling. Tonight, I saw the man kicking his grown daughter. I had seen his wife doing so a few years back. I called the police on them earlier in the year when the screaming went on for a long time. The cops did come. Fairly quickly, I might add. I probably live in a better neighbourhood than the one TC lived in when she wrote that song. Earlier this week, loud crashes woke us up at around three in the morning. Found out later that the neighbours two doors down had their car windows smashed in whilst parked in the alley way. Perhaps this 'hood is not as good as I like to believe.

We live in the city and these are the vagaries of doing so. It's a bit much for one week. I am wracked with guilt for not doing anything about tonight's incident. I am a feminist and I should stand up for this woman. I have in the past. The neighbour works for the RCMP and I am afraid of payback. Calling the cops once was nerve-wracking enough. I hope that the girl finds a strength to move out. I hope the boys (sons of the father and mother) do not believe that this is the way to treat women and/or one's relations. I noticed a broken window. I wonder what transpired. Did the girl/woman break the window out of frustration? Anger? The cycle seems to continue in that family. Even the dog is angry, or perhaps just scared. I know he'd be happier with us. Perhaps he has created this fantasy for himself and that's why he barks so much when he sees us.

Lurking, not posting

So I have not be writing for about two months.  The idea of a blog still seems odd to me.  What is revealed and what is not.  I have been following the trials and tribulations of my "pretend friend" Rosie O'Donnell quite attentively on her blog and the in the environs of the interweb.  I like to head over and see what his Pinkness has to say about the pretend people.  However, his devotion to Britney and attention to Paris have been a bit much to handle as of late.

I keep thinking that I need a lot of time to post, but really, I just need to make time for it to happen.  I get distracted.  My latest distraction is Chuzzle.  I think I am quite addicted.  The irony is that I don't seem to be as good at it as I was when I first started playing it.  Oh well!

I think I complained about Wild Garlic in my last entry and wouldn't you know that it is no more.  It's now some Transylvanian restaurant.  Only in Vancouver.  I like to think that I had something to do with the closure, but I suspect that it was on the outs for a while.  Perhaps I just put the nail in the coffin.  Did I say "coffin" and "Transylvania" at the same time?  Hmm...  Perhaps I need another Buffy fix.  Have asked for the Season Eight comics for my birthday which is in a couple of weeks.

We went to the Kitsilano Wrap Zone for our Thai-tanic wraps with hot sauce.  Sadly, all that we could taste was the hot sauce.  Yeow!  Decided on a lite dinner so that we could go all out for dessert at Sweet Obsession.  Unfortunately, I was not as happy with my dessert as I had hoped to be.  Also, we ended up sitting amidst some very loud people and my buddy's voice is so quiet I could hardly hear anything.  And if the Dude sitting next to us is reading, TURN OFF YOUR DAMN CELLPHONE!!!  You are not that important and if you are, you shouldn't be having dessert out!

Father's Day is this weekend.  I think we shall drop kidzilla off at my Mum's and head out for a pseudo-date of lunch and a movie.