Our Dove Day

A total snag in your story, love.

Dial #52 333 555 0000.

Ah, you can’t trick the raven, mon chere! Love you!

I fancy honesty.

(but just deleted my entire blog post save from this video where I am seen slurping pear vodka. Straight.)

Today was fresh, like cold like plums from an ice box. I ran into many people I knew, so I was surrounded by Vancouver charms/annoyances. And my white jacket makes me look like a glowing reaper so it was a day of dichotomies.

I strolled frustrated with my sketches, and thought that since I’m failing at being an artist, I hope that photography is something I’ll learn to manipulate. And even writing! I am stuck-ville!

As a storyteller, I indulge to a fault.  Cluttered in words, perhaps the photo can take the place of the thousand words I’d otherwise spew.  I loved the idea of your photo essay at school so perhaps with my new hand on the ISO and AF and other non-familiar buttons on my camera along with Emily Carr guidance, I’ll take you on my dove day walk today.

Update: The pictures are too big!  Here is a lovely video instead which makes me wish I could swim in bed. It also sounds like my day.

Love you.

Or so it feels.  I have never before been able to talk about recipes and legitimately have my stomach fight with me like a dog barking at the knock on the door.  I am in love with my tongue, and my brain, and my stomach and whatever connects them; making them an animal in seek of pure sensational delight.

I am hungry thinking about writing about food.

I could roll around naked with the leftovers I have in the fridge.

I want scallops with crispy sage and peashoots with lentils and rocket.  I want chantrelles and creme fraiche and pecorino and tagiatelli with blue cheese and figs, mint and asperegus and rosemary foam with root vegetables with truffle oil and oxtail ravioli.

It was great having people over last night and cooking like a fat woman, with Oprah arms hugging everyone, and laughing too hard as if I had maple glazed pork belly living in my throat. As you keep modifying your carniverous addictions, I’ll start to write some suggested recipes for you to stay happy, satiated, and without suffering the insatiable pains of food-pregant sympathy. Lets break bread, my love, and be fat cats. (Well, fat aint cool…lets just look good and eat like manatees).

For now, look to Epicurious for recipes like momma makes.
And for the marriage of two great things; Art + eating.

xoxo love you.

this distance bull-roar has not been altogether difficult on us, as we built our relationship on the backbone of a few key principles: we hold close to us the art of conversation and fear not the hefty phone bills which are generally married to them, and nouveau tradition.

november 11th is christmas eve eve when about 30 people flock to the moderna-mecca of christmas spirit: 1036 east 32nd street:: moms house. to be there, you must rid yourself of the christmas cake cliche because its about the soup and the stir (and I love it with tea which makes me the embodiment of christmas spirit and moms favorite child).  the soup and stir started 10 years ago with only a few of us, some fruit, a ton of rum and a wooden spoon.  sounds like a hedonistic party now that you mention it.

wishes were put in with the flip of your wrist, extra points for doing a good impression of mom crying in her thoughts. this year i topped all odds by stirring in my best wish to date, managed to not cry infront of all the pilgrimagers,  channeled a wish from africa and toronto with complete composure even after drinking 1/2 a box of wine.

i leave you with the comforts of tradition which transcend space:

love you. (8 is a lot of legs, david).

oooooooooooOBAMA!

Election is now heating up as we take Ohio and topple other swing states.  Wolf Blitzer appeared as a hologram on CNN and wiki’s are in constant rotation.  People cannot get enough of the news feeds, the twitter streams, and the importance of citizen voices.

If he wins, I think that I’m cool with having kids.

That was hot, right?

xox

in these long distance relationships, we forget that we are in a real relationship. hands know the lines of your face; cravings become satiated. i am real waking up in the country where you are. am i going through motions when you are not here; or am i continuing to carve out our relationship without you?

lets just slow dance.

recently chan returned from her meditation retreat.

i was a little worried about what we’d say to each other when we finally chatted. i always hated that first conversation when someone goes on vacation and you have to ask them how it was. “so…how does it feel to be back? what was your favorite place? what were the people like? did you get mugged?” shit like that. i hate being the asker and i deplore being the askee. so i was thinking a little bit about my approach.

vague nadia: “hey lover.” then, be quiet, and let her speak. she gets to figure out if this is a-hole nadia or peaceful nadia or a hybrid of the two.

interested nadia: “heeeey love. how are you feeling?” kinda sounds like i just found out she has gallstones or a migraine or is getting audited.

a-hole nadia: “hey. i’m sooo tired today. i seriously can’t talk.” then hang up and make her feel like it was her fault.

buddy nadia: “hey pal! whats going on?” god i hate that person. i think i know that person.

sister nadia: no plan.

i thought about what we would dive into. i didn’t over think it mind you, but it was there. she was silent for 10 days which means she was in a place i’ll never get to visit, but i am so proud of her finding her way there and her way back.

this afternoon she rang me while i was sitting on my bed typing away. the first thing we decided was we wish every sentence ended with “fa la la la laaa, la la la la.” deck the halls. christmas has always been a way for us to find our way home. and the sister nadia always comes through first - no plans required.

let that be our family code word for when we don’t know what to say; but understand each other.

PS. christmas is 92 days away. add this to your desktop so you know that there is one day that i will believe in pretty much anything.

I’ve always refuted the idea of ever going into reporting. For as much as I loved the media, I really hated the idea of “throwing” phony pitches from one person to another, laughing at softball jokes on the morning news wondering how many people were cringing and hating me.

I did want to be a VJ though.

So today I’ve discovered OUTSHOUTS, described as the best way to customize a great video from the web with your own video or audio message. Dedicate a song, say happy birthday, advance a cause, share something hilarious, or tell someone ‘I’m thinking of you’. So e-greetings be gone? Farewell I say!

With an easy set up, and a pretty slick design, I was forgiving of the load time which was par for the course. I started by mucking about and checking on what people are tagging as love these days, and in doing so got an idea of the demographics which seemed to range from the Chris Brown to Pineapple Express tracks. So between grinding and getting stoned, the Doves and Sigur Ross were represented. I approved on the latter and continued on.

Once I picked a video (I chose something about recycling as being foreplay. Hot for real), I was prompted to start doing my OUTSHOUT job- to introduce my video through webcam or phone message. Still new to the hosting position, and me without my lipstick and pompadour, I opted for the phone message. They gave me a phone number, a passcode, and all of the quick creative freedom I could muster. (The outcome of my message as you will soon hear, was the song loop that J and I came up with in traffic back to Montreal, hungover, tired, and thinking we were musical genius incarnate).

Once I finished the recording, I moved onto the next step which applied my message to the intro of the video and provided me with quick, accessible set up links for me to post to my social circuit, blog, bookmarking sites, phone and email. And of course, actualizing my talent.

With such a quick process, tons of collateral to choose from and a world awaiting my next musical hook, I am going to now make pancakes, get my hair teased, throw on some fushia lipstick, and get to work on my virtual VJ CV.

Cue schmaltzy dood: “Thanks, Nadia. Sounds AmAzing! Lets check Feist video, redux!”

in honor of my favorite, and only tv show, intervention, monday is a day about addiction. being an obamaniac, on each ‘addiction day’, i will showcase a little bit of politics to illustrate my learning curve. off to typical dilatory beginnings, i’m going to focus on what i know best. enjoy…while youtube attempts to show a video.