The Rhythm.

Every year I describe my summer job to people. And every year I tell them: "I have to live in a run-down old house with the same people I work with. It's a bit like a reality tv show sometimes. It's kinda nuts."
But the truth is, that's an exaggeration. It's not usually nuts, except in a good way. Like when your roommate speaks in a ridiculously bad English accent and you all break up giggling because it never gets old. Or when you turn up the volume on a cheesy Katy Perry song on the way to work in your stage manager's car and later you sing bits of it while dressed in a 19th-century costume. Or when you all rush outside the house because there is an ADORABLE  Grizzly bear cub across the road and even though you all know it's a terrible idea to get anywhere near a bear cub, you all have to see the baby close-up. * And then your roommate sneaks up behind you and snarls and you let out a huge scream because you thought it was Mama Bear.
There are two 20-somethings and two late-30-somethings; three girls and one boy, and we all snuggle up in the evening and crochet or play video games and watch "American Horror Story" or some super-hero action movie and laugh a lot and cook dinners together and do the Kitchen Dance as we all try to fit ourselves around each other at the same time.
Sometimes you all have a Junk Food Day on your day off, and you eat ridiculous amounts of sugar (even though some of you are trying really hard not to consume that sort of thing). You might even make Orangette's Chocolate Banana Bread recipe, if you want to make your roommates love you. It's loaded with sugar, cinnamon and chocolate chips as well as three bananas, and it won't last long:

It's the rhythm of my days with these folks that make life up here so sweet. In past years there has been more drama, but even when things were difficult or tense, we found some kind of rhythm together. It could be the hardest part of this contract, living for 5 months with the same people you see all day at work, and every year I'm amazed by how it's actually the best part. 

* This is a terrible idea! We only went outside to see the baby bear because there was no sign of the mother and as time went by it became apparent that for some reason she had become separated from her baby and was nowhere nearby. Don't ever do this. 

Why I Came.

Why I come:

The dark, wood walls of this tumbledown house (now with waxed floors! A properly-vented dryer!  And-wonder of wonders- internet!).
The three other people here in this house with me, my co-workers, my friends, my family for the next five months.
A glimpse of grizzly bears running across the highway in front of our car today, scary and majestic.
The theatre, with all of its dust and paint and mouse droppings and beautiful acoustics and wood.

Rollin' On

Every spring I write a wistful post about leaving Vancouver in all its warm and sunny glory. This year is no exception.
I walk down south Fraser Street yesterday afternoon inhaling the smell of blossoms, of food; hearing different languages and accents. My life (and diet) is a lot less Asian up North: no Thai, no Japanese, no Vietnamese, only excellent (but very expensive) Chinese food.
I am packing today. My life: compressed into 2 cardboard boxes, a suitcase, an accordion case.

I go on my annual 7-hour urban hike with a friend and the day couldn't be finer. Seven hours of beach, river, railway, sun, wind... We end the hike footsore and sunburned, but triumphant. 

The little cat climbs into my open suitcase, my chest of drawers, my closet. By the time I get back she will be fully-grown. I'll miss her wide eyes, her huge purrs, her playfulness. My brother and his wife will have their house to themselves again for five months. They have been excellent roommates, but so are the ones I live with in the summer. 

This pattern has been part of my life for four years now. 

There are no goodbyes, only "see-you-laters".

Been kickin' sawdust In these clothes

For a blue moon And a red nose

The boys will put 'em up And tear 'em down
We'll wash away The dirt
Just a glass a day Ain't gonna hurt
Pretty soon we'll move on Out of town

We pass them by Across the plains
We don't even try To catch the names
It's supper-time and their kids Are home from school
They draw the shades On their shops
While we go a'checking Through the props 
And putting on the paint To play the fool

Then we're rollin' on
Rollin' on
Feeling, better Than we did last night
Rollin' on rollin' on
It's hard some times Pretty much it's alright

I'll go soft shoe When it rains
I'll go shuffle through The aches and pains
Mr. young at heart That's what I try to be
They all laugh And cry
They get to feeling better And that is why
If it was good for you Truly it was good for me

Then we're rollin' on
Rollin' on
Feeling, better Than we did last night
Rollin' on rollin' on
It's hard some times Pretty much it's alright


-Mark Knopfler, "Rollin' On"

Capital Times

This town. No, not my town. Victoria! I can walk for miles there and still want to walk more, even when my feet are complaining. I am so excited to get there that I take the 7am ferry on Friday morning. 7am, people. This requires a heroic wake-up call of 5am, although it doesn't seem so hard to get up when it's for fun. One ferry trip and a bus ride later, and I am downtown. My pal Holly is working until the afternoon, so she gives me the keys to her place, I dump my stuff there, and walk. And walk. Window-shopping (and not buying, so hard) and taking pictures until my friend is free to join me. And then we walk some more. Beacon Hill Park, its beach, Ross Bay Cemetery (where a number of Barkerville notables are buried), back downtown... Holly is taller than me, and an even faster walker. My 5am wake-up catches up to me but still we walk, exulting over daffodils, tulips, lilies. This city has embraced spring utterly.
That night we go to the theatre (Holly works in theatre, which is how we met). We see "Winners & Losers" by Theatre Replacement, which is actually a Vancouver company. An east Vancouver company, to be exact. So there we are, shmoozing with Vancouver actors after the show, all of us over in Victoria for various reasons. Then it's off to a late-night spot for some snacks and home to the condo for prosecco, peanuts, Dire Straits and gossip about boys, love, and life.
Next day is the same, except with a later start. Walking, eating, photographs, more walking, theatre. Every so often we just grin and sigh happily. The weather is incredible, the food excellent, the company lovely. I know that Victoria is like Seattle for me in that it's an alternate-universe Vancouver: an escape from my city that's eerily like it in many ways but because I don't live there I don't take it for granted and I only see the good parts. And that's fine. We all need escapes like that. And friends to share them with.

This is why I love my mom:

Because she's still stage-managing cool shows at the age of she'll kill me if I tell you nevermind.

Because I can place a phone call at 7:30 and say "Please come to this gig. There's no one here and I need company." And she'll be right there.

Because at the gig, when the lead singer explains that his next song is about a photo of a child in a war-torn country, crying at the ruins of her bombed-out school, my mother is irreverent enough to lean over to me and say "I think most kids would be delighted if a rocket hit their school."

Because she'll stay 'til the end of the gig and drive me and my accordion home.

I had a dream the other night, that my mom was dead and a lawyer and I were dividing her property, which in the dream amounted to (I kid you not) a box of chocolates. So I was saying to the lawyer "Well I think basically we should divide up the chocolates so that everyone gets a little bit of everything: nuts, cream centres..." And then in the dream I realized that she was truly dead and my heart cracked open.

So here's to a long life ahead for my mom, who plays by her own rules, drives me nuts (and cream centres too), and is always, always there for me when I need her. I don't know what I'll do when she's not.

Food Fail. (Warning: this post is all about vomit!)

Ok, so I'm no great chef. I love food, but I'm not the sort of person who spends hours in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove in order to nourish my friends. "Family dinners"up north in the summer- usually a roast chicken and some veggies or some other easily-ignored dish- are about the extent of it.
But you know, I usually think that I'm an acceptable cook.
Until I poison myself.

Luckily so far I have been the only victim. I have had some questionable dates, but I've never actually made anyone projectile vomit. As far as I know. This time I came home last night after a shift at the music school, cooked myself a healthy little meal, and... a couple of hours later I was pinned unhappily to the couch, watching the time get later and later, feeling the nausea building and building.

Well, we all know what happens when you get food poisoning. Something a lot like... this scene from "Team America: World Police", that's what. Good times.

The thing is, my body seems to feel that it's SO important to Get The Toxins Out RIGHT FREAKIN' NOW that I will literally throw up so hard that I black out. Which means that I get hurt. Today I have a very tender spot on my back from collapsing on the tiles at one point, my right knee is sore, and I have a small bump on my forehead from when I pitched off the toilet and came to face-down on the bathroom floor.
As I said, good times.

So what have we learned, boys and girls? Maybe... Don't buy the lamb patties from Buy-Low Foods. And if you do, cook them all the way through.
Ugh.

I am lying in bed while a teenaged cat stomps around my room investigating.
Yesterday it was rainy and grey. I went for a long walk and when I came home two out of the three animals were sleeping on my bed. Needless to say, I joined them and we all snuggled together like sardines. In fact, it was a struggle to throw on my party clothes and leave the nest for the opening night of my show.
By the time I got to the theatre I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, actually:
My date for the evening had just gotten out of the hospital and couldn't come with me.
Nor was anyone else interested/available apparently.
I was in a haze of worry about my dear friend who is so stoic but has some serious health issues to face; I was also feeling insecure and tired. No one wants to be here with me for my big night, I fumed. I'll just go watch this thing, make a token appearance at the after-party and get the hell outta there. 
Well, you know what happened, right?
I ran into some lovely theatre friends I hadn't seen in ages and I sat with them for the show.
The play itself was great- the best performance so far. I am so proud of the whole cast!
I went to the opening night party and, as you do at these things, I ran into a few more people I hadn't seen in ages. In fact, because I was alone, I made more of an effort to socialize and also I didn't have to worry whether or not my date was having a good time. I just took care of myself and it was lovely.
Just as I was gathering up my things and getting ready to say my goodbyes, the production manager invited me into her office for some whiskey. I sat there with her, the set designer, his wife and the other two amazing women who run Studio 58 and I thought Isn't this great.  Last time I worked here, 5 years ago, I felt so shy and insecure. Now I feel as if I totally belong here.
Suddenly it was 1:30 in the morning! So much for getting the hell outta there.
I didn't need a date or a friend to prop me up last night.  I am so proud of what I've accomplished and how I've grown in the last while. And funnily enough, while I'm obviously very pleased with my artistic achievements, I'm even more pleased that I felt so at ease throughout the whole process and even last night, alone at a party. Because that, for me, is far more challenging than playing music. Except it isn't anymore. So I have to stop saying things like
I hate parties
I hate going to these things alone
Starting a new job is like the first day of school- so scary! 
No one knows who I am
What a relief, to throw off those insecurities and just enjoy.