I’ve been absent from The Treehouse for about a month. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind here at the non-virtual Treehouse. My housemate has moved, I have a musician friend staying with me, phones and cameras are breaking, and seedlings are bursting at the seams of their newspaper starter pots. As well, my outdoor property maintenance contracts have started up again, as has outdoor music season. (Bring it on, Summer!!)
with Gary Mockford, Leon Racicot, and Lyle Shephard
I also set up a static home page for this blog last month, which turned out to be a bigger chunk of work to keep up than I wanted. I’m abandoning it and going back to the old format. This means manually updating the navigation in all my old posts, so please bear with me and also accept this snapshot of a friend’s mama cat and her SEVEN (!!!) two-day old kittens (aka, the big puddle of stripes):
When people ask me who my influences are as a singer, I don’t think they expect my first answer to be Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson.
The first time I heard Iron Maiden, it was something like 11:30 on a Sunday night in 1982. I was living in Vancouver, BC, and listening to a radio show that played imported heavy metal records. The song had just been released. It was called Run to the Hills [click for song].
It was like nothing that ever existed before.
I hopped two buses after school the next day to search for it at an import record shop downtown. (I’ve already mentioned that I wasn’t like other girls when it came to music.)
When I’m on a renovation job, sometimes I don’t know what I’m going to be doing when I walk in the door. On any given day, I might be using a nail gun and a compressor to pin down a board. I might be ripping up floors with a crowbar. I might be 14 feet up a ladder painting walls.
I don’t think I’ve ever done this on a job before, though:
Just a quick mid-week post to show off some of my mom’s artwork. These three paintings are only 4×6″, painted on heavy watercolour paper – not sure of the thickness, but thick. :) They are actually greeting cards.
The colours on the one above astound me. I looked outside one day this past winter and thought – those ARE the colours! My mom got it perfect.
The colours on this painting by fellow blogger Nicholas Herbert are a similar wintery scheme.
My musical mentor calls Sunday his “sacred day.” Though he doesn’t really practice any religion, he is very much aware, after a week of worldly intrusions, of the need for a day of rest from external stimuli. A day to honour what is important to his spirit.
Since I never expect to hear back from my mentor on a Sunday, I made these cookies for him Saturday instead. This is an update of the recipe I posted a couple of weeks ago:
Kamloops is a place divided – socially, economically, and politically – into three distinct areas by its rivers. “My side” of town, the north shore, is like New Jersey to the south shore, if the south shore were New York. Most of the New Yorkers don’t like to come across the bridge to New Jersey, so it’s a bit of a hermit’s paradise over here.
I *heart* New York. But like Bruce Springsteen, I’m happiest living in New Jersey.
“You must understand it, go into it, examine it, and give your heart and your mind, with everything that you have, to find out a way of living differently. That depends on you, and not on someone else, because in this there is no teacher, no pupil. There is no leader. There is no guru. There is no Master, no Saviour. You yourself are the teacher and the pupil. You are the Master. You are the guru. You are the leader. You are everything.”