I'll see you at the show

When a two year old tells you he loves you, your heart melts. When he sings you the first two lines from "Bird on a Wire," your heart breaks. I guess when your dad plays in a band, you learn Leonard Cohen tunes instead of Raffi...

A couple nights ago Andy Creeggan and Mike Evan played a show here. I've tried writing this paragraph a few times. Let's just say it was a great show, and it was fun to see Andy again. He's a great musician & performer (listen to one of Jim and Andy's songs). Jim got up and played about half the show with them. Much fun.

I've had two great lessons with my new teacher at the Con, Steve Dann. He's got an amazing sound, and great ideas about how to play music, and how to play the viola. Also, his name sounds like a superhero, or a PI. I feel like his philosphy is a good complement to the tools I already have.

Again, tried writing that paragraph a few times, but it's really hard not to be boring with details that aren't important. You can just be happy knowing that I'm happy and learning a lot and growing.

Capella and I went to the Red Sox/Blue Jays game on Saturday. The Sox lost, but it was a close game until the end. We had good seats by the left field pole that would've been twice as expensive at Fenway. Also, they still sell beer in the stands and don't shut down after the seventh inning stretch. Our section was about two thirds Sox fans- some Dominicans from Fall River brought signs with messages for Jerry Remy, hoping to get on NESN. A guy a few rows behind us yelled "Hey Fall Rivah" a few times but couldn't get their attention.

We walked home and passed an adult clothing & book store (if you know what I mean) that had two women dancing in the windows. It was especially shocking because they normally have maniquins. A bit like an episode of Doctor Who.

We're moving into our new apartment on Tuesday. I'm so excited to finally live in my own home again. We've been living out of boxes for two and a half months, and it feels like it. At the same time I've gotten used to living with Finn and Jim and Anna. They're such positive people, and have become good friends. Jim just left today to start a tour, so I think we'll be seeing Anna and Finn as much as we can.

I think now that I'm actually busy doing stuff I won't be writing as often as before. Less time for writing & less time for exploring. Time to be a grown-up (sort of).

A long overdue installment arrives! Apologies to anyone waiting on pins and needles for this- it must have been painful, I'm sure.

And now the first in a short series of homemaking and cooking tips, courtesy of Julia Child. I give you: the perfect hard boiled egg. Put your eggs in a pot so that they are all touching the bottom (so none are crowded up) and cover with an inch of cold water. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, and cover. Let sit for seventeen minutes. Go read a magazine. Transfer the eggs to a bowl of ice water, and let them cool. Bring the hot water back up to a boil and put the eggs in for about ten seconds, and then back into the ice water. Seems fussy, but the last step seperates the egg from the shell and makes it easy to peel. I made these for Capella last week, and the whole bass section of the opera was jealous.

My other tidbit for the week is the proper use of the phrase "give 'er." I'll start with an example. It's a little lengthy, but worth it.

A few weeks ago in the late afternoon Capella, Jim, Anna, Finn, and I were all in the kitchen puttering around. It was warm out and the windows were open. The neighbor's mother was at her (the neighbor's) house, taking care of her (the neighbor's) kids. (Interesting sidenote for the Canadians reading this: the neighbor used to be on Degrassi. I'm not sure which series. I'll ask Capella when she gets home.) The grandmother was playing guitar and singing to the kids, which was sweet and nice to listen to. She started playing "Free Fallin'," by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. When she got to the chorus we all got ready for it to kick in, but she kept singing along like before. We were feeling somewhat frustrated, and Jim said, "When you get there, you just gotta give 'er."

Perfect.

For those still a little unsure of using give 'er themselves, I suggest renting the movie FUBAR, available at finer video stores near you. The people behind have also written a book.

And a quick summary of what I've actually been up to in the last two weeks or so. Started school at the Con (OK, the Glenn Gould School of the Royal Conservatory of Music. You see why people call it the Con.) Went to the dress rehearsal for the first part of the Ring cycle. Fabulous. The opera house is brand spankin' new & sounds amazing. Capella got me a free ticket so I was in the fifth balcony (the very top) and I managed not to fall asleep! Just kidding, it was very exciting. I also went to Vancouver for a weekend for our friends Nathan and Naila's wedding. It was beautiful. I was honored they asked me to play at the ceremony as my present to them, and got more nervous than for any concert in the last few years. I stayed at Nathan's parents' house in an older suburb of Vancouver. Their house overlooks an inlet of the Pacific, and I woke up every morning and had a coffee and watched the mists travel down the valley. Didn't get to see Vancouver but I don't feel like I missed much.

Song of the week: Stripper in my Car, by Mike Evan. One of the rare songs that I can't possibley imagine the composition process. Buy this man's record. While you're at it, the Barenaked Ladies have a new album, and Capella plays on one of the tracks. If you buy it, she might get residuals. Not sure.

Time for bed. Tomorrow's a school day.

*Update* the neighbor was on Degrassi Street, Jr. High, High, & a couple more specials. I'm told she played Lucy Fernandez... Also, I saw Mary Walsh of 22 Minutes on Bloor by Yonge last week.

A modest proposal

This week we went to the fair. The Canadian National Exhibition has been going on at the fairgrounds down by the lake, not too far from where our new apartment will be. It's like I always imagined a state fair is like, but bigger. (On a side note, does anyone have any idea why Massachusetts doesn't have state fairs? Or does it, but out in Worcester, so we never notice?) In the agriculture building we saw cows, pigs, sheep, turkeys, and horses of various breeds and ages, and one ostrich. The pigs had a big sign above them that said, "From Farm to Fork." If you can eat bacon after watching 6 piglets suckling, well, hats off to you. We also saw butter sculptures. They were in a refrigerated trailer in the middle of the hall with Plexiglas windows. There was a young woman inside, wearing a parka and sipping a coffee, working on her butter sculpture. Farmers.

We wandered down the fairway past all the games for suckers- the strongman thing where you try to ding the bell, the various throwing games that are way harder than they look, the different "racing" games, a few gambling places, and a million junk food stands. We doubled back to catch a human cannonball show. David "the Bullet" Smith, Jr. is a second-generation human cannonball, and several of his siblings are apparently also human cannonballs. If you've never seen a human cannonball shooting in person, I highly recommend it. Dude shoots out of a canon and flies through the air.

We tried to hoof it to the opposite end of the fairgrounds to see a circus from Quebec City that wasn't Cirque du Soleil. I don't know what they were actually called, but the promos looked pretty similar. We didn't get in, so I'll assume it wasn't that awesome, anyway. I don't recommend them.

So we walked back to the rides. Your usual collection of spinning things, flying things, cars of various types, slides, and funny mirrors. We decided to give the bumper cars a whirl, and ended up getting a free ride because the gateman's scanner wasn't working properly. Instead of buying tokens to give to your kids to spend on rides, they sold debit card-type things, but with a supermarket-style scanner. Anyway, we had fun, but Capella backed herself into a corner and couldn't get out for most of it, so I went around in circles and bashed into her every lap. Soon after we decided it was time to go, and walked home.

On Thursday and Friday the Snowbirds, the aerial team of the Canadian Forces, were practising for an air show at the Exposition. The show was all weekend and today, making five days that the skies of Toronto have been filled with jets doing loop-de-loops. Over the weekend there have also been various propeller planes and older bombers. Having now experienced five days of jet fighters constantly overhead, I propose that all major cities of countries about to wage war experience the same thing before the decision to go to war is made. Of course, Isreal and Lebanon experience that already, but I'm thinking of, say, the U.S. and U.K. It's one thing to read about war, but when the fighter jets shake the ground you're standing on you begin to have some empathy for anyone caught up in it.

Just a thought. Comments?

Vive le Quebec!

We decided to take advantage of Capella's only two days off in a row from the opera for the next month to take a trip to Montreal for the weekend. It was good timing, because our friend Matia from McGill (hi Matia!) was in Montreal for a few weeks visiting from Germany. Our friend Greg, who is also a violist, and came to McGill the same year as I did, and is also tall and brown-haired, and a source of endless confusion for a few years, just got a job with the Winnepeg Symphony and is moving in a day or two. So it was good to see him and his wife Donna before they move across the country. And another friend of ours from McGill, Lana, another violinist (hi Lana!), came to Montreal to see Greg and Donna, and arrived just before we left. So we got to see her, too, for a few minutes.

We mentioned to our friend Nathan, who lives around the corner from us, and also went to McGill, that we were planning on going to Montreal. His eyes lit up and asked if he could come, too. So we decided to rent a car and split the cost three ways. Somewhere between Kingston and Cornwall one of the tires blew out. We pulled over and called the car rental company to ask for help (I didn't much like the idea of changing a tire by the side of the busiest highway in Canada in the dark- and no jokes about the relative busyness of Canadian highways, please). While Capella was on hold with them I called AAA. They managed to get our info, call a truck, and call me back, and Capella was still on hold. So we put sweatshirts on and leaned against the side of the car and looked at the stars for 10 minutes until the truck came. You can't see stars in Toronto. The air's too dirty.

So we made it to Montreal eventually, and have a fridge full of bagels and beer to prove it. Capella also bought a jacket at the St Laurent Street Fair. For one weekend every year Bvld. St Laurent (or St. Lawrence Bvld, as Mordechai Richler called it) is closed off to cars and all of the stores bring out racks of stuff onto the street. There's a similar thing in Toronto; once a month the Kensington Market- an area of a few blocks with lots of used clothes stores and organic fruit markets and such- is blocked off to cars. They call it Kensington Pedestrian Sundays. Because it's Kensington Market, only Pedestrians, and on Sundays. I'm not saying St. Laurent Street Fair is the most imaginative name, either, but really... But anyway, I ran into an old teammate from the McGill Track and Field team. She just finished her doctorate in pharmacology and has no idea what to do next. I'm just impressed that she can talk to our coach; I have to avoid him like the plague when I visit because he's scary.

If it ever gets released in the US, go see Bon Cop, Bad Cop. It's in the same vein as 48 hours or Lethal Weapon, but set in Montreal and Toronto. The basic story is that a crazed hockey fan goes on a killing spree against those he feel has harmed the great game. His first victim ends up draped over the sign marking the Ontario-Quebec border; as a result, a very straight Toronto detective and a very laid-back Montreal detective end up having to work together. It's bilingual- the french release had all of the English subtitled, and the English release had all the French subtitled. If you speak any French you might understand the scene about how to swear in Quebec. You'll thank me later anyway.

photo update (the show part of show and tell)

Tony, Andy, and I enjoying curry dinner after loading up the truck.



Me at Niagara Falls. (Canadian side)



Capella at Niagara Falls.



The Portugese church on the night of the crazy party in the park.

No more crazy rock star stories just yet.

Aparkalypse Now; or, Greg and Capella take a ride.

We did some serious biking today.

After a morning of sleeping in and practicing, Capella and I biked west to look at an apartment (it was nice, and cheap, but had dingy wall-to-wall carpets that the landlord wasn't keen on taking out). Then we went along the Lake to downtown. Ordinarily the bike path peters out and you have to ride in the street through the downtown core, which is a pretty silly place for the bike path to end, if you ask me. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks so, because for this week only the city has transformed the east-bound lane (closest to the lake) of Queen's Quay Ave., the street that follows the shore through downtown. The right-hand lane has been covered with grass- like, actual grass- and the left lane has been painted down the middle to make a great bike lane. Between the bike lane and the streetcar tracks they've planted bright red geraniums. This whole thing goes for a kilometer through the city. At the eastern end there's a big gate, like the Arc de Triumph, but made out of bicycles that have been locked to posts and abandoned in the city. There's free movies at night, Adirondack chairs all over for people to hang out, all sorts of crazy stuff going on.

We locked up our bikes and wandered around for a while. There were free copies of the Toronto Star (the non-tabloidy one), so we picked up a copy and eventually found two empty chairs. We sat and read the paper and watched the boats sail by in the late afternoon sun. It was warm, but with a slight breeze blowing in off Lake Ontario. Heavenly.

We saw a guy making rock-balancing sculptures. He makes 4-foot towers out of rocks. We walked by just as he was placing the last two stones on a tower. The second-to-last rock was fairly small, and round. Then he knelt down in front of the tower, picked up the last rock- much larger than the previous one. Like, much larger- took a few deep breaths, and placed the rock on the tower, rotating it slightly until it found its place. As he stepped away, he made a short speech about how he hoped that his sculptures, and the transformation of the road, would help people to eliminate the word 'impossible' from their vocabularies, and that we wouldn't teach it to our children. When you're unstoppable, impossible is just a word.

The whole thing is called Quay to the City.

Jim, Anna, and Finn got back from California on Saturday. The house is very different with them here. Finn is a bit shy of two years old. He's learning his words, so most of his talking is names of things or people. On Tuesday Jim and Finn came into the room where I was practicing because Finn was curious. He got Jim to put him in front of the drum set, Jim picked up a guitar, and we had a little jam session before lunch. Finn was picking up the beat most of the time, and was pretty creative with different sounds from the drums and cymbals. Of course, he also likes to wail on one drum and play loud. I don't improvise much (or, really, at all) so for the first few seconds all I could think was "What key is Jim playing in? What the hell do I play? How about this?" Once I started playing I began to forget about that and played. Fun.

It's a little crazy with everyone here now, but at least it doesn't feel empty anymore.

Happy Simcoe Day

Happy Simcoe Day, everyone. Because a month without a holiday is no month at all.

In which Capella learns to duck her head under water without getting water up her nose; a trip to Niagara Falls; and a Portugese battle of the bands.

We currently live down the street from a municipal community center. It's got a pool and a gym and a not-too-grimy weight room in the basement. Best of all, for two hours a day there's a free free swim. Capella has become determined to learn to swim, and I've been drafted as her teacher. We've gone three or four times in the past week and a half. The first time we went Capella couldn't put her face in the water without getting water up her nose and getting tense and mad at me. Yesterday was a big breakthrough, as she was able to put her head underwater without holding onto the wall, holding her nose, or panicking. Very, very exciting.

Today we went to Niagara Falls (finally). It's really, really big, and really made me want to try swimming it. I'm amazed more people don't, especially after seeing the main strip of the tourist part of town. The main street goes uphill from the canyon, and when you face uphill it's like a miniture Las Vegas. If someone led you there blindfolded you would have no idea what was lying behind you, and vice versa. You can stand at the bottom of the street and look out at the falls and would never know about the Ripley's Believe It or Not, Guiness Experience (that's World Records, not the beer), Lego Land, World Wrestling Entertainment tower, Dracula's Haunted House, or any of the other myriad ways to seperate fools from their money. (We did indulge ourselves in a round of Dinasaur mini golf. I won, 53 to 57, but it was a disapointing course. Very little originality in the layout.) [another side story: we saw the cutest little girl, about 4 years old, who was leaving a haunted house being carried by her father, bawling her eyes out, with freaked-out, but trying to keep it together, older sister in tow. A priceless moment, and we couldn't help laughing. Would that make us bad parents, or good parents?] So anyway, after walking up one side of the street my brain was so over-stimulated that not only could I not make up my mind about dinner, I couldn't even answer the question. We got subs to go & ate on the bus.

When we got home there was a Portugese festival going on in the park. It was church-related, for sure, because the church around the corner was lit up with all sorts of lights and a huge heart (presumably the sacred heart of Jesus, but that's just my guess here) in the middle. If the picture comes out I'll put it up. We're still in the Film Age, so you'll have to wait till we finish the roll. As we cut through the park to go home we realized the party was still going and headed over. Two community bands made up of old men & high schoolers, with middle-aged men percussion sections, were on two bandstands trading off songs. We wandered around and saw tents selling soccer jerseys and religious statuary, and thought about getting a beer at the beer tent until we saw that there were only older Portugese men inside. After a few songs from the bands we headed home, and now it's time for bed. Tomorrow we're heading out to the islands in Lake Ontario just in front of town.

Odds n Ends

#1. As Stephen Colbert occasionally says, I called it. It appears the Toronto Sun's Joe Warmington reads my blog. This column ran in Saturday's edition.

#2. I bought this parka today. I think I'll be ready for winter now. The thing's like wearing a huge down blanket. With a hood. And on sale. Score!

#3. Song of the week: And It Rained All Night, from the Eraser, by Thom Yorke. A beautiful nugget that captures one night in Manhattan. Can't stop playing it.

#4. Basement apartments are the devil. Every homeowner in the GTA (that's Greater Toronto Area, for those who don't live here, which is everyone) rents out their basement to make a little cash. That'd be fine if the average basement were taller than 6'2". But it's not, and it's not OK. 96% of all the apartments listed on any given day are basements. Exactly 96%, if you were wondering. Due to historical/ architectural/ geographical phenomena, 80% of all the houses in Toronto look like this one. They're narrow, brick (if painted, usually red. "What color should we paint our brick house? How about brick red?") And they have the pointed gable in the front, and their basements are very short. My theory, that I worked out with Capella as we were walking away from another place where we'd have to duck to walk into the kitchen, is that it's because Toronto has no natural boundries. Cities like Boston and Montreal are built on islands, or close to it, and so people building houses had to stack them up & make duelpxes and triplexes, and larger apartment buildings. In Toronto there is no such pressure to be in the city because the city just keeps going. It's become hard to tell Toronto from Oakville from Hamilton from St Catherines (and long, long ago stopped being possible to tell Toronto from York or Missisagua). Thus, there's no reason to build a triplex when you can just build the house. So, the basements which people rent out were never meant to actually be lived in at all. They were just basements. And now they're apartments that people feel justified renting out for $900 per month.

Toronto is an elderly second grade teacher

I was on the subway on Saturday on the way to a gig with my friend Nathan, and he pointed out a sign on the platform meant to discourage littering:

Does that make anyone else feel like they've been admonished by an elderly schoolmarm, index finger a-wagging? The garbage goblins?? Really? It's the "please" at the end, that really nails it home, in order to really MAKE YOU THINK about what you've done. I was in New York last year, and some guy was smoking on the platform. Another guy with his pants around his knees and a big baseball cap turned backwards walked by and told him "You can't fucking smoke here," and continued walking past, assured in the knowledge that the guy would put his ciggarette out. Apparently Toronto doubles as New York in movies. Ha!