1. My mom was born May 25, 1944, which makes her 63 years old. She looks closer to 53. She's an attractive woman, and I'll be lucky if I look as good as her as I age.
2. She's shy and doesn't give herself enough credit for being clever and charming. However, she is a docent (top-level tour guide) at the Royal Ontario Museum, which means that she stands up in front of a group of visitors and speaks about the displays at least once a week. I know that she gets nervous every time, and I'm really proud of her for pushing through her fears.
3. I have a slightly crooked tooth at the front of my lower jaw. My mom has the same crooked tooth, as does her father. I would like to trace the crooked tooth back through time, and meet all my snaggle-toothed ancestors.
4. My mom is a fantastic cook. She makes the best soups I've ever tasted, and the best from-scratch birthday cakes with buttercream icing. It's lucky for me that I have a lightening-fast metabolism (also inherited from my mom) so that I could and can get away with eating all her awesome, rich food.
5. My mom has Celiac Disease . She suffered most when she was a little kid, before Celiac disease had been defined. Sufferers of Celiac must avoid gluten, which is present in certain grains, including wheat. Medical science hadn't figured that out yet, so my mom's diet was severely restricted. She was only allowed to eat rice, boiled beef, mashed bananas, and skim milk. She craved a more varied diet. In grade school, when the cravings got bad, she would steal coins from her mother's purse and sneak off to the corner store for a candy binge. Then she'd end up in the hospital and no one would know why she'd had a relapse. To this day she will not drink skim milk, only homogenized.
6. I inherited my mood swings from my mom. What the family calls "Black Moods" came down through my grandfather and his brothers, then my mother and her sisters. I don't write about these moods much on my blog. Instead, I force myself to write about something light-hearted. Once I've spent an hour or so polishing a piece that's funny or describes something I enjoy, I find that my mood improves.
7. Yesterday I spent all afternoon with my mom, trying to get her new computer set up. I didn't want to let her putter around in the kitchen while I did the set-up. This is her computer, and I wanted her to really own it by being hands-on from the beginning. She opened the box, she plugged in the cables, she turned it on for the first time, while I helped and gave instructions. When we ran into technical difficulties, her anxiety grew, and I struggled to stay level. It wasn't easy.
8. By the time I got home, I was feeling drained and triggered. But instead of dumping out all the difficulties of the day in detail, I'd rather remind myself why I'm grateful for my mom.
9. She never learned to ride a two-wheeled bicycle, whistle, or blow bubbles with bubble gum. When I was a kid, it made me sad knowing that she had missed out.
10. I love when she tells stories about when I was a baby. I can never hear enough about how cute I was, and how brilliant, even though I suspect that she's exaggerating. She claims that my first word was "Portulaca". I'm more inclined to believe my grandmother, who says that my first word was "car".
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Little India
The latest census shows that South Asian immigrants have outpaced Asian immigrants as the most numerous "minority" group in Toronto. I put minority in quotes because it seems an increasingly silly name for anyone who doesn't fall into the group of People Who Have White Skin. No one group comprises a majority of our city's population anymore.
Anyway, blah blah blah... I didn't intend to start going on about politics. I wanted to show off some photos I took of Little India, or, as the city has officially named it, the Gerrard India Bazaar.
Ken and I went for lunch at Bar-Be-Que Hut, known to us as The Restaurant Where The White People Go. This is because the curries are tame, and suited to those of us who weren't raised from childhood to tolerate blazing heat.
Ken occasionally gets it into his head to go to one of the other restaurants on the strip, but if there's not a high proportion of white diners, he won't convince me to eat there. This isn't because of any racism on my part, but because I learned my lesson the hard way at the Lahore Tikka House a few years ago.
The Lahore Tikka House is hardcore. We were the only non-East-Indian people there. And clearly it was unusual for outsiders to venture in. We were surrounded by families in traditional Indian garb, and people were openly staring at us.
Of the food, what I remember most was the dahl (curried lentils) that was served still sizzling in a cast-iron frying pan. There was so much hot pepper in the curry that within a few mouthfuls, my lips actually went numb. This only foreshadowed the pain that was in store for me later, as the burning hotness worked its way through every inch of my tender digestive tract.
Bar-Be-Que Hut is much more enjoyable on every level. They even keep a TV constantly running DVD's of upbeat Bollywood dance routines. This is the best example of Bollywood that I could find on YouTube. Bar-Be-Que Hut's discs are even better.
Some other businesses in Little India:
These guys were in the window of the video store. I figure they kind of balance out the photos from my Trashy Girl Fashions post.
There you go, ladies! Feast your eyes.
Anyway, blah blah blah... I didn't intend to start going on about politics. I wanted to show off some photos I took of Little India, or, as the city has officially named it, the Gerrard India Bazaar.
Ken and I went for lunch at Bar-Be-Que Hut, known to us as The Restaurant Where The White People Go. This is because the curries are tame, and suited to those of us who weren't raised from childhood to tolerate blazing heat.
Ken occasionally gets it into his head to go to one of the other restaurants on the strip, but if there's not a high proportion of white diners, he won't convince me to eat there. This isn't because of any racism on my part, but because I learned my lesson the hard way at the Lahore Tikka House a few years ago.
The Lahore Tikka House is hardcore. We were the only non-East-Indian people there. And clearly it was unusual for outsiders to venture in. We were surrounded by families in traditional Indian garb, and people were openly staring at us.
Of the food, what I remember most was the dahl (curried lentils) that was served still sizzling in a cast-iron frying pan. There was so much hot pepper in the curry that within a few mouthfuls, my lips actually went numb. This only foreshadowed the pain that was in store for me later, as the burning hotness worked its way through every inch of my tender digestive tract.
Bar-Be-Que Hut is much more enjoyable on every level. They even keep a TV constantly running DVD's of upbeat Bollywood dance routines. This is the best example of Bollywood that I could find on YouTube. Bar-Be-Que Hut's discs are even better.
Some other businesses in Little India:
These guys were in the window of the video store. I figure they kind of balance out the photos from my Trashy Girl Fashions post.
There you go, ladies! Feast your eyes.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
E is for Excellence
It is a most Happy and Joyous Day! Spring has finally pulled its socks up. There are green spikes and flowery things popping up in the flowerbeds. My neighbourhood is dripping with clear, buttery sunshine. Tink, authoress of Pickled Beef , and more lovely than spring itself, has honoured me with an award!I have never been happier to receive a grade of "E".
I am going to do my blogly duty and pass the award along to five deserving folks, as follows:
A Roll In The Universe, because Keera has an excellently whimsical view of life.
Aurora, because she has been taking bigger risks in her posts, resulting in some excellent writing.
Simply Addicted, because Pixie Von Azia and her blog are excellently sparkling.
The Warped Mind of Ron, because Ron is all-around an excellent guy and kindred spirit. He also has moments of being incredibly funny, and has a runaway imagination that results in some very entertaining posts.
Where to Start?, because Jenski has an excellently positive attitude, and always makes me smile.
Have an E for excellent Saturday!
Friday, April 4, 2008
The Dirt on Bootleg DVDs
The first time we bought illegal movies on DVD at Pacific Mall, we were really excited. I picked "March of the Penguins" and Ken chose "Borat". We paid $2.50 for each disc.
Back at home, I went straight to the TV to watch my movie. Oh boy! There they were, tubby little penguins trudging stoically across the snow. Cue Morgan Freeman's voice-over:
"Hmmmmmnnn. Mmm nnnn-nnn, hmmm wahhh wah mwaaaaah."
I fiddled with the volume.
"Mrrrrrrm hhmn-nweh, mwaaah-ah-ah mwaaarm," boomed Morgan Freeman.
Yeah, so. Excepting the experience of those gifted, special people who can understand Charlie Brown's teacher, the audio was useless.
Borat was marginally better, as though the audio were being broadcast to us via a badly-tuned AM radio station. You had to do the aural equivalent of squinting to follow the dialogue. Ken gamely watched it all the way through, but I couldn't handle the static.
Months later, we were speaking to acquaintances at a party. We got onto the topic of Pacific Mall and all the wonders to be found therein.
"We love the illegal DVD's!" they said. "We have over 600 at home!"
They revealed to us the secrets of illegal DVD purchasing. Apparently there are several standards of DVD's, and the one we should have bought was DVD 9. Anything less would not do.
Armed with that knowledge, we returned to the mall. DVD 9's only, please! Things went much better. From then on, most of the DVD's we bought were indistinguishable from their legal counterparts.
We'll still occasionally find a disc that won't play, or one that was recorded on a handheld Camcorder from a movie theatre screen. I bought "The Queen", only to find that it was dubbed in Italian and the "English" subtitles were a random mash of non-words. But at that price, you throw a few discs in the trash and still feel that you got a fantastic deal.
Now if only I had time to watch all the movies I bought...
Back at home, I went straight to the TV to watch my movie. Oh boy! There they were, tubby little penguins trudging stoically across the snow. Cue Morgan Freeman's voice-over:
"Hmmmmmnnn. Mmm nnnn-nnn, hmmm wahhh wah mwaaaaah."
I fiddled with the volume.
"Mrrrrrrm hhmn-nweh, mwaaah-ah-ah mwaaarm," boomed Morgan Freeman.
Yeah, so. Excepting the experience of those gifted, special people who can understand Charlie Brown's teacher, the audio was useless.
Borat was marginally better, as though the audio were being broadcast to us via a badly-tuned AM radio station. You had to do the aural equivalent of squinting to follow the dialogue. Ken gamely watched it all the way through, but I couldn't handle the static.
Months later, we were speaking to acquaintances at a party. We got onto the topic of Pacific Mall and all the wonders to be found therein.
"We love the illegal DVD's!" they said. "We have over 600 at home!"
They revealed to us the secrets of illegal DVD purchasing. Apparently there are several standards of DVD's, and the one we should have bought was DVD 9. Anything less would not do.
Armed with that knowledge, we returned to the mall. DVD 9's only, please! Things went much better. From then on, most of the DVD's we bought were indistinguishable from their legal counterparts.
We'll still occasionally find a disc that won't play, or one that was recorded on a handheld Camcorder from a movie theatre screen. I bought "The Queen", only to find that it was dubbed in Italian and the "English" subtitles were a random mash of non-words. But at that price, you throw a few discs in the trash and still feel that you got a fantastic deal.
Now if only I had time to watch all the movies I bought...
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The Cummer Bus
It's not what you think. Really and for true, there's a Cummer Ave. in Toronto, and the Number 42 Cummer bus services that route. If you don't believe me...
... here's the route map. And a link to the Toronto Transit Commission's website, from whence I obtained the route map. You can see it on the drop-down menu under "Select Route". And who in their right mind would select any other route? I'm just sayin'...
I had a lot of fun on the Cummer bus. No, not that kind of fun. It's public transit, for heaven's sake! What kind of girl do you think I am?
The bus services a street that's mainly residential, with a high school half-way along. In between the subway station and the high school, the bus is full. Between the high school and the industrial park where the route loops and turns back, the bus is usually empty. Except, when I used to work there, for me.
I worked in a building surrounded by acres of parking lots. I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the entire building who didn't drive. But it was cool, because that meant that me and the bus driver had that bus all to ourselves.
No, not like that . I told you to keep your minds out of the gutter!
In between the high school and my stop were blocks and blocks of residential streets, twisting, turning, and very bumpy. I purposefully sat at the very back, over the wheels. Since there were no passengers wanting to get on or off, the driver would put the pedal to the metal and that bus would go as fast as a twenty-two-ton bus can go, which is surprisingly fast, let me tell you.
Of course there's negligible suspension on a public bus. When we went over bumps and potholes, I got quite a ride. I spent most of it with my butt flying up off the seat, going "Wheeeeee!" and "Woooohoooo!" and "Ow!" (when I landed). After a day of trying to appear demure and professional, it was a totally awesome way to blow off steam.
I was always resentful when we pulled up at the high school, and around ten thousand obnoxious teenagers pushed on to spoil my ride.
... here's the route map. And a link to the Toronto Transit Commission's website, from whence I obtained the route map. You can see it on the drop-down menu under "Select Route". And who in their right mind would select any other route? I'm just sayin'...
I had a lot of fun on the Cummer bus. No, not that kind of fun. It's public transit, for heaven's sake! What kind of girl do you think I am?
The bus services a street that's mainly residential, with a high school half-way along. In between the subway station and the high school, the bus is full. Between the high school and the industrial park where the route loops and turns back, the bus is usually empty. Except, when I used to work there, for me.
I worked in a building surrounded by acres of parking lots. I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the entire building who didn't drive. But it was cool, because that meant that me and the bus driver had that bus all to ourselves.
No, not like that . I told you to keep your minds out of the gutter!
In between the high school and my stop were blocks and blocks of residential streets, twisting, turning, and very bumpy. I purposefully sat at the very back, over the wheels. Since there were no passengers wanting to get on or off, the driver would put the pedal to the metal and that bus would go as fast as a twenty-two-ton bus can go, which is surprisingly fast, let me tell you.
Of course there's negligible suspension on a public bus. When we went over bumps and potholes, I got quite a ride. I spent most of it with my butt flying up off the seat, going "Wheeeeee!" and "Woooohoooo!" and "Ow!" (when I landed). After a day of trying to appear demure and professional, it was a totally awesome way to blow off steam.
I was always resentful when we pulled up at the high school, and around ten thousand obnoxious teenagers pushed on to spoil my ride.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Trashy Girl Fashions
Picking up from the last post, we did eventually get to Pacific Mall.
The fashions there are always extreme. Shall we see what's in for spring?
Wearing a stocking on only one leg is the next big trend, apparently. The theme was repeated at other stores around the mall. Next time the dryer eats one of your socks, rejoice! You too can now be as effortlessly fashionable as these ladies.
There are dozens of tiny garbage-wear boutiques throughout the mall. Mannequins must be included with the rent, because almost all the stores use the same mannequins. They look like blow-up sex dolls. It's the parted lips and heavy make-up that makes them look cheap.
That and the stupid-short micro-minis. Does anyone actually wear these outfits?
If that's not sexy enough for you, perhaps you'd be interested in the Anime Character Costume Shop. You can buy adult-sized costumes depicting major manga, anime, and video game characters, including props and shoes. I bet they make most of their money from fetishists. Sadly, they didn't have any action-hero outfits in the window this time. Just some pouffy girl dresses.
With those necklines, the girls are going to need a special bra. One that makes their boobs look so great that they look down and *GASP!* at their own bosoms.
Would anyone care to attempt a translation from Mandarin to English? I'd really like to know what this girl is saying.
The fashions there are always extreme. Shall we see what's in for spring?
Wearing a stocking on only one leg is the next big trend, apparently. The theme was repeated at other stores around the mall. Next time the dryer eats one of your socks, rejoice! You too can now be as effortlessly fashionable as these ladies.
There are dozens of tiny garbage-wear boutiques throughout the mall. Mannequins must be included with the rent, because almost all the stores use the same mannequins. They look like blow-up sex dolls. It's the parted lips and heavy make-up that makes them look cheap.
That and the stupid-short micro-minis. Does anyone actually wear these outfits?
If that's not sexy enough for you, perhaps you'd be interested in the Anime Character Costume Shop. You can buy adult-sized costumes depicting major manga, anime, and video game characters, including props and shoes. I bet they make most of their money from fetishists. Sadly, they didn't have any action-hero outfits in the window this time. Just some pouffy girl dresses.
With those necklines, the girls are going to need a special bra. One that makes their boobs look so great that they look down and *GASP!* at their own bosoms.
Would anyone care to attempt a translation from Mandarin to English? I'd really like to know what this girl is saying.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Splendid China Tower
It's no longer possible to find parking at Pacific Mall. It's gotten too popular. It was bad enough when only Asian people went there. (Ken's half Japanese. Sometimes I was the only white person in the whole mall.) But word got out about the cheap bootleg DVD movies you can buy there, and now people of all backgrounds are showing up.
Fortunately, a new mall just opened across the street, with a nice, big parking lot.
This place is so new that it still smells like wet paint and fresh varnish. It hasn't got many shoppers yet. I believe most of the cars in the lot are other Pacific Mall shoppers who can't find a spot anywhere closer. Ken and I usually take a peek inside before we cross the street. There's an open space at the entrance that's often the site of performances by community groups. Last time we were there a Latin dance class was performing. This time, there was martial arts.
And now we will practice our flying Kung-Fu, in the style of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
The bootleg DVD stores carry both American and Asian movies. Here's the movie poster for Rainy Lover, starring Don and Mandy. Does "Rainy Lover" imply that they cry a lot? Maybe there are nuances getting lost in the translation.
There's a lot in Asian culture that I just don't get. For example, this sign was hanging in the window of a hair salon.
WTF? Is this supposed to be the salon owner addressing prospective customers? Or just a random dose of romantic sentiment? Either way, I love how unpredictable these malls are. You really never know what you're going to find.
We did eventually get across the street to Pacific Mall. To be continued...
Fortunately, a new mall just opened across the street, with a nice, big parking lot.
This place is so new that it still smells like wet paint and fresh varnish. It hasn't got many shoppers yet. I believe most of the cars in the lot are other Pacific Mall shoppers who can't find a spot anywhere closer. Ken and I usually take a peek inside before we cross the street. There's an open space at the entrance that's often the site of performances by community groups. Last time we were there a Latin dance class was performing. This time, there was martial arts.
And now we will practice our flying Kung-Fu, in the style of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
The bootleg DVD stores carry both American and Asian movies. Here's the movie poster for Rainy Lover, starring Don and Mandy. Does "Rainy Lover" imply that they cry a lot? Maybe there are nuances getting lost in the translation.
There's a lot in Asian culture that I just don't get. For example, this sign was hanging in the window of a hair salon.
WTF? Is this supposed to be the salon owner addressing prospective customers? Or just a random dose of romantic sentiment? Either way, I love how unpredictable these malls are. You really never know what you're going to find.
We did eventually get across the street to Pacific Mall. To be continued...
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