Funny Valentine is Faulty

The date tonight was a no show. I had a pretty strong feeling he was going to not show up or cancel (preferred option as I didn’t really NEED to freeze waiting for the bus to and from). But, I showed up cause I had said I would.

I did think he might come. We had been talking about a mutual interest in the paranormal, local history and the old buildings. But, I was there early and waited until quarter after when I had to leave to catch the bus home. (Didn’t really want to spend a half hour waiting for the next one).

On the plus side, I did finish the book I was reading and the coffee I got at the Second Cup was pretty good. Not as good as the caramelo flavour or the latte would have been. I decided to try something else.

Update: It is 3:30 AM and I am at my sister’s house, just finishing the last of my laundry. It has gotten way behind with Sears not getting the new machine working for so long. I am happy to feel clean, warm clothes again, especially when they are my own and not the laundry I have done for my sister’s family here. Anyway, I did hear from my Friday evening date. He was just late. Actually, must have missed me by the barest minute. I left at quarter after. Poked around, taking a few photos of the lights on main street. Then headed up to catch the bus. He got there about 18 minutes after. My coffee cup was still on the table even. So we will try again.

Funny how the same thing happened last week with a different guy. In that case he started talking about sex, sex, sex and sex and when I didn’t have the right answers for him he just forgot I existed. I am sure that is why I decided I was stood up again tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow to be sure. I did check email just before I left Barrie to come out here tonight though. That was about 8:30. So I wasn’t too quick to jump to conclusions. Quick enough maybe, on messy, snowy night. But, I didn’t blow a gasket at least.

I am so tired now. Just need to flip the last load into the dryer. I really hope the dryer from Sears works and that is not the next thing I need to deal with. I want a break. One day without problems I didn’t cause. Really, doesn’t is seem fair that you should only have to deal with the stuff you have messed up yourself? Isn’t that enough?

Nightie night.

The Un-Possible Terminator

I’m watching The Terminator, Sarah Connor Chronicles. One thing that keeps occuring to me is that the whole thing is silly. If they can keep going back and forth in time there is no end to it. Even if Sarah and crew succeed in stopping the machines from taking over one moment in time the machines just transport back to another point in time and change history again. It is the never ending story. Kind of crazy. Makes the story pretty off base. I always think science fiction stories should have a backing on facts and things that work/ are possible.

Mookie Morris: Canadian Idol




Mookie Morris was eliminated from Canadian Idol this week. I did not expect him to be gone. He was my choice to be the Canadian Idol this year. So I’m surprised and disappointed. Some of the articles about the voting have said Toronto does not vote for the contestants from Toronto. I’m from Toronto originally and maybe it is true. I don’t think much about where they are from when I vote. I just vote for those I like. I voted for Mookie, over and over. I really wish he was going to be on next week and the week after, right up to the end.

The Mookie Experience on MySpace.

Toronto’s own Mookie Morris rocks Idol judges
July 21, 2008

Andrea Gordon

Mookie Morris, the easy-going baby in a brood of four, has always been called “the coolest Morris,” says his sister Deirdre.

Three weeks ago, Canadian Idol judge Zack Werner called the 18-year-old singer “the coolest guy in the history of the show.”

Quite a leap for a kid who started teaching himself to sing and play guitar four years ago, when a broken ankle put his elite AAA hockey season on hold.

Quite an inspiration for zillions of kids banging drums and plucking bass strings in basements all over the GTA.

Morris is one of the remaining nine Idol finalists, including fellow Torontonian Sebastian Pigott, who compete tonight to become one of the top eight.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a lot to take in,” Morris chuckled over the phone last week between rehearsals.

Nicknamed for former Blue Jay Mookie Wilson’s game-winning hit the evening he was born, the teenager (whose real name is Peter) honed his performing skills in garage bands and battle-of the-bands gigs around Toronto. “I must have been in about 10, I can’t even remember them all.”

After his ankle injury, he gradually eased out of hockey but diverted that same intensity to his music.

His first band was Gong Show, back in Grade 8. They got their start at a concert fundraiser set up by his brother in university. Deirdre Morris, 23, remembers Mookie rocking the house with his version of “Twist and Shout.” The college kids went crazy. A woman’s undergarment was flung on the stage.

Four years later, when he performed that classic at an Idol audition, judge Jake Gold said: “I really do believe you are a star.”

At Northern Secondary School, he was lead singer for Blind Sight, which attracted a loyal following to all-ages events at teen haunts like The Kathedral and Reilly’s. He finished his last school credits at City Academy in January and has been devoted to writing music, playing and “just trying to grow up” since then.

He’s registered for Concordia University in the fall, but says he’d rather end up following his musical dreams.

His mom, Julie Wang Morris, is still in shock. “These were kids who played in the garage!” she hollers over the phone. His dad plays piano and harmonica, she likes to sing and figures musical genes also came from her parents, who lived in a fishing village in Taiwan. Mookie, who she describes as “remarkably secure in himself,” is her only musical child.

She was one of those moms with a minivan who ferried guitars and amplifiers and wannabe rock stars all over the city on Friday and Saturday nights. She was also one of those parents who wasn’t too keen on the venues packed with pumped-up adolescents, questionable supervision, and lots of noise and body-slamming.

“I always worried,” she says. “But it was their only choice if they wanted to play.”

Guitarist Sean Fischer, 19, says Mookie is “a regular dude,” kind of shy. “And then once he starts to sing, he completely transforms.”

Over six-feet tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed and clad in punky blazers and Ts, his look inspired Idol judge Sass Jordan to once describe him as “Louis Armstrong meets Elvis Costello.”

“He has phenomenal presence and soul – you can hear it in his voice,” adds his bandmate, drummer Daniel Singer, 19. But audiences love him mostly because “he’s true to himself.”

That showed up in some of his unusual song choices for Canadian Idol.

Deirdre warned him against “Valerie” by British band The Zutons. Too obscure, she said.

He did it anyway. The judges loved it – it was what prompted Werner’s “coolest guy” compliment. And judge Farley Flex praised his understanding of “who you are, why you’re here and what you want to do.”

“Now I just keep quiet,” Dierdre says.

Last week was “a bit of a low point” though, as Mookie describes it. The response to his rendition of David Bowie’s little-known “The Man Who Sold the World” didn’t overwhelm. He and Pigott were both in the bottom three. The judges noted Toronto isn’t voting.

His mom and sister took matters into their own hands. They produced 300 “Vote Mookie” lawn signs, hung a giant banner over a Yonge St. overpass in their neighbourhood. They’ve organized another “Mookie Night in Canada” tonight at a pub to watch and vote.

Mookie meantime, is revelling in it all, but in his typical laid-back style.

Sure, he wants to win. But his ultimate goal: “just to be happy in life . . . I want to just be able to do music as a job, you know, go on tour, travel the world and record.”

Toronto Star

Near the Town of Primrose





This house is only boarded on the lower level. One of the upper windows is smashed, both panes of the glass. Other than that it is just neglected looking. Too bad it is likely to be pulled down so something else can go up. It is a busy intersection, on #89. But already covered by enough restaurants I would think.

One thing I noticed and wished I could have dug up were some very scarlet and very deep neon pink sweet williams. There wasn’t much else there remaining of the garden. Tons of weeds and only one groundhog (or some other rodent-ish creature) hole in the yard.

Rural Ruins – by Laura (me).

Suspense and beauty in torn brick, shattered glass, mouldering wood and old craftsmanship, weathering, falling into ruin.

Relinquished by those who made them and neglected by those who could reuse them. Now just an old house in the way in a world of strangers.

Wooden sheds and barns grey with age lean against the Earth waiting to fall into the dirt they grew out of.

Garden perennials struggle in the lawn poked by groundhog holes, roof shingles, glass, bricks and wildflowers.

History and life forgotten in each dusty, spidered window pane, each strongly holding brick and each door with crackled paint.

Mystery shines at the partially open doorway. A touch of things that once were. A whisper of things inside with rotting floors and peeling paint.

Rain, sun, wind and snow the house stands, holding itself up, majestic, keeping it’s secrets. A home to only the wild creatures now.

Scrolling Saturday #3

For Scrolling Saturday

Sunday, March 19, 2006
Where I’m From

I came across this in a blog this morning. But, I can’t do a linkback cause Firefox crashed and I don’t remember which blog it came from. I did find the originating site in my History sidebar. That gives the format used. Anyway, its kind of a nice exercise in nostalgia.

Now that I think about it, and try to come up with answers to where I am from, I don’t really know where I’m from.

I am from the land of the red maple leaf, from pine trees and silvery birch trees.

I am from the the house with gardens, the kiddie swing set overlooking the wild, deep ravine below.

I am from the sweet william, the violets, johnny jump ups freshly blooming in Spring.

I am from road trips and laughter with Mom, from The Scherles and the Earles and the Armbrusters too.

I am from the easy going and the endlessly critical.

From “no one will ever want you” and “you can do anything you try”.

I am from Irish Presbyterians and grew into Earth Witchery, with a joy for life and nature.

I’m from the Irish, the German, the Scots, cabbage rolls, homemade buns and Mom’s endless soup variations.

From the armbusters – not too proud to be too honest, the lawmakers – far too proud to be pleasant, but always correct and right and just in their minds.

I am from sisters, a brother, Woodstock green, coffee cups and craftmanship.

Famous Canadian Women You've Never Heard Of

We are making goodies for Thanksgiving dinner today. Sitting with a coffee in the kitchen while my cheesecake cooks I began browsing through a book about Canadian Heroines. It’s sad how many of these women I have never heard of.

In the US they seem to have a lot about their own history and the people in it. They learn in school about famous US men and some of the women too. In Canada we also learn a lot about world history, not so much our own though. When I was in high school you had the option of picking Canadian Literature, Canadian History and so on. Why wait till then? In University and College you come across courses about Canadian Women in History and other more narrowed down areas of interest. But, why do we have our people and our history shoved aside so that it has to be found? Does anyone know about Emily Stowe, Harriet Brooks, Maude Abbott or Alice Wilson? Those are all Canadian women.

Anyway, a nice time of year to think of some of these Canadian women. A time of year when things are settling down for winter. People are planning and cooking for family dinners together. Some are packing up the car and some are packing away things that were cluttering up the dining room. I hope everyone has family they can spend some time with, on the phone through an email or whatever is available. But, even if you feel you are alone, you’re not. We are all Canadians and we all have that in common with the Canadians here now and those forgotten long before we came around.

When you have your Thanksgiving, give thanks to Canadians. As Red Green says… “we’re all in this together”.