42 posts tagged “vancouver”
Canada Day. We caught up with him at a hot dog stand on a busy corner of Robson Street. Tim poked him on the shoulder and said, "Hi!”
Tim pointed to the kid's shirt. He said, "West Memphis Three" then pointed at me. I repeated the words and pointed at the kid. Then Tim asked if he was involved in the case. The boy looked confused.
I pointed to my shirt then back at his and told him we had the same shirt, the same message.
I could tell he was trying hard to comprehend. Then, slowly, he said, "Ahhh West Memphis Three...I do not know what it means."
"You don't know the story of the West Memphis Three?" I asked to make sure I got that right.
Then carefully, with a blank face he said, "No, I do not know West Memphis Three. I bought this shirt in Korea."
I laughed. Then he laughed. I asked if I could try to explain who the West Memphis Three are and he nodded. I began acting out the story with hand gestures and limited words.
My T-shirt is an older model. A row of mug shots printed across the chest in white on black jersey.
I pointed to the photos and said, "These three men are The West Memphis Three. They are in prison in the United States for murdering 3 children." I held up three fingers then lowered my hand to the height of a child.
He said, "Ohhhh."
I waved my hands and explain that there are a lot of people out there, around the world, who think they did not do it. I tell him, "There are a lot of people out there wearing these kinds of T-shirts. We think they should be free."
I point to the face in the middle of the row of mug shots. "This is Damien Echols. For this crime he is going to be executed," I hold my fingers like a gun because acting out lethal injection is too much of a task, "and a lot of people do not want to see that happen. He is in prison - on death row in a place called Arkansas."
"So, I wear this and it is good?" He asked.
"I think it is really good." I answered.
Then I took his picture.
I decided
to get involved in my local art scene - starting with my own
neighbourhood first. The event is a home/studio tour involving three
neighbourhoods of artists and merchants. I paired up with a fantastic
photographer, John R. Taylor, for a shared space since my condo
association refused me the use of my home or the complex party room for
the event. I was cheesed at first, but as the time of the show draws
nearer, I realize that having a show with John will be 20 times better
than having it on my own. He lives in an apartment that used to be a
store, so he has display windows and a wide open space. Besides that -
he really knows his stuff and I like being around people who really
know their stuff.
As far as the merchant windows, I will be prominently displayed in the
windows of Basic Stock (kitchen things), Banyen Books (a very large new age and wellness book shop) and Mark James (a high end
men's clothing store. Imagine my paintings next to an Armani or Dolce
& Gabbana!)
Here is a link to the website so those of you near can make a plan,
print a map, get to the bank machine - and those of you in faraway
places can get an idea of what this thing is.
http://www.artistsinourmidst.com/
I do not want to go in to how frazzled the whole thing has made me...but last night I thought I was having a heart attack.
Yeah, wasn't that clever.
The
other day I posted about how when I want something, really put forth a
true desire, I never get it at 100% strength and satisfaction. I might
get it to a certain point, then something happens and either diminishes the satisfaction
or crushes the whole thing to oblivion.
My post went on to describe some of the smaller disappointments in my life that had to do with birthday celebrations, I only mentioned the most recent 2 because, well, who wants to hear 40 or more crappy birthday stories?
I also mentioned an art group I applied to and was accepted into late last year. The whole reason for this group is the planning of an art crawl in the spring. For me this would be an event of epic proportion, as I have never been involved in much more than small gallery shows and rejections from larger juried shows. I lamented that I got 3/4ths of the way through this achievement, only to have the property owners association (they calls them STRATA COUNCILS in these parts) flatly tell me I would not be allowed to host such an event on the condo property -not in the amenity room, not in my home, not on the property.
Well, of course I was devastated. What the heck was I going to do now?
I had various reasons for joining this group.
Reason number one: I needed to get my work out there in a town full of artists, a town with a noted art school (Emily Carr), a town LOUSY with painters and the like all screaming for a chance to be seen...
Reason
number two: I needed to get myself working with my community. One thing I
never felt in Little Rock was that I was a part of the art community,
or a part of my community in general. This would take care of 2 birds
with one paint brush. Not only would I be thrust into the local art
community, but by opening my space up to the local art watchers I would
also be participating in a community event. An event that helps define
and give character to the area that I now live in known as Kitsilano. I
like it here and I want to show some pride and community enthusiasm.
In
a situation like this, I would have been so pleased if the strata had
come up with a solution to the "security risk" instead of using that as
a reason not to welcome this community event into their/my lair.
Instead of squashing it like a bug, perhaps they could have put their
heads together and figured out a way to help me on those days. I was
looking at this from a totally different standpoint and perhaps they
did not see the opportunity this would be not only for me, a neighbour,
but an opportunity to showcase our well maintained condo and show
community support for the arts. This is a great neighbourhood event so
if security is the fear, volunteer to keep an eye on things during the
crawl. Show a little "can - do" spirit and support for a
neighbour...but that might be the Southern coming out in me...
Reason number three: I need to meet people who live close to me. I have met some really neat-o people here, but they all live very far away. So far, I have made fast friends with a swell fellow, John R. Taylor...and he has made joining totally worth it.
Reason number four: I just thought it would be fun. What else do I have going on?
Well,
like I said, when I got the final word from the strata, I was crushed
and crying and frantic. At the last art group meeting it was obvious that sharing
a space with another artist was going to be a challenge and a half. I
was reduced to begging from strangers. "Please, sir, could I have a
wall in your home? It doesn't have to be a large wall, a hall wall will
do..."
I made the request and two super heroes came to my rescue. As
if my woeful vox lament reached the ear of some patron saint in charge
of artist's studio spaces, who then told someone above them to give me
a 100% break for a change - I got a space! And what a space it is!
Dude, it's a store front! Thank you John R. Taylor!
So, it seems that things might actually work out better for me because the strata refused involvement. Odd how that worked out. I think this might be the first time in DECADES that something positive has come out of a negative for me. May be even the first time ever.
Oh, what a beautiful morning...
Due to past experiences, I have a dread when it comes to crossing the
border from Canada into the US as well as crossing from the US into
Canada. There is no way to predict whether you are going to be pulled
over and have your car dismantled and your girlie things gone through
or simply be grunted at with a wave of the hand as you hold out your
passport.
I have painfully detailed the last time we crossed over and I had to pee in a bag while we waited several hours to get into Washington. I have not mentioned the time we were driving into Vancouver and caught a border guard who just didn't find it plausible that a "retired" library worker and an adolescent residential treatment facility counselor "on leave" could afford a BMW and have an extended vacation in Vancouver. Her words exactly were, "and how do people like you afford a car like this?" Coming from the south, I found this to be extremely rude and I laughed it off without an answer. The husband, hopped up on pain killers (we went to the states to get some medical care for his Achilles tendon injury) just stared at her blankly and said, "Excuse me?"
Yeah, we got pulled over.
The
car wasn't searched but we had to go in and explain why we were there
and how long we were staying. We also had to give personal financial
information that the husband was not pleased to hand over until I
finally just said to him, "Will you tell her what she wants to know so
she doesn't think we are running guns and drugs?"
The border guard said, "Honestly...you are not helping yourself."
She was obviously perturbed. So much that she didn't even want to allow us back into the country.
I
told her that all of our belongings were in our hotel room in Vancouver
- we really needed to get back in to get those things. Especially the
cat.
"YOU BROUGHT YOUR CAT ON VACATION?"
"Well, yeah. She only weighs 7lbs-"
"This does not sound like you two are on vacation, this sounds like you are moving here!"
(at that point we were just tourists)
"People
vacation with their dogs all the time. Besides, we had nowhere to leave
her. All of my friends are either allergic, have dogs or do not like
cats." I countered. "It's not like she is a puma or a leopard. She is a
tiny little girl and she has all her papers. Which just happen to be
with her at our hotel." Now I was getting perturbed.
When our
finances were out in the open she begrudgingly put a stamp in our
passports that said we could enjoy Canada for 30 more days, then we
would have to leave...or else.
Oh, what a beautiful day...
Yesterday
we went down to Washington to check on our storage unit and to pick up
as many boxes as we could of things we will need right away when we
move into our new place in Kitsilano at the beginning of June.
The
day was bright and blue and beautiful. The drive to the border was
quick and uneventful. The crossing into the US was so easy it was too
easy. The wait time was about 20 minutes. Our border guard looked at
his watch as we pulled up.
"Where you from?"
The husband: "Vancouver."
"Where you going?"
The husband: "Blaine and Bellingham."
"Have a great day."
The husband: "Yeah, you too!"
We
got to the storage unit and grabbed our things without any fanfare. I
made a list to show at the border along with our "goods to follow list".
We
drove to Bellis Fair Mall so I could check out Kohl's Department store. I
actually found TWO pairs of jeans that I liked enough to buy. Finding
clothes for me is such a hassle, I'm as round as I am short, so this
was a huge joy inducing score.
We went to the husband’s favorite
store - Fred Meyer. The husband got his plain Doritos and some frozen
pizzas (he has a special backpack that keeps things frozen for up to 12
hours or some such). I bought a coffee bean grinder.
By this
time I was getting suspicious. Too many good things were happening too
easily for me. The finding of two pairs of pants alone made the day
worthy of a journal note. But did I also mention they were a smaller size than I am accustomed to purchasing???
Something BAAAAAD was going to happen at the Canadian border. I just knew it.
We head out to the border and I start to feel queasy.
We
were behind a slow moving big rig and we couldn't see the line in front
of it. It pulled over and revealed a totally empty border crossing.
No cars. Desolation. The place looked closed.
We pulled up to the first booth. The woman looked sour. My stomach rumbled.
"Where you headin' "
"Vancouver." Says the husband.
"Where you been?"
"Our storage unit and Fred Meyer."
The husband explains we are buying a place in Vancouver and we wanted to get a few things before the movers brought the big stuff.
"When do you plan on getting the rest of your stuff?"
"Early to mid June." Says the husband.
"I hope." I add.
We
passed her our official papers and the list. We were expecting that we
would have to go in the office with our official papers and list and
make things more official.
She scanned the items on the list. "Two
boxes of sheets and curtains. Two boxes of kitchenware...Green
suitcase...Yeah, Ok. Have a nice day."
THAT WAS IT? HAVE A NICE DAY?
I got a beautiful feeling...
When
we got back to our place and unloaded the car I immediately started
going through the boxes. I haven't seen this stuff for almost three
years! The first one I opened was full of kitchen items. I grabbed a
newspaper wrapped lump and slowly unraveled it. In my hands was one of
my favorite coffee mugs: a XXXX XXXXXX Xxx Xxxx mug!
A mug I had bought
in the mid 80's when I worked at a gift shop called The Quapaw Gallery
in what is now the stage area of Juanita's Cantina Ballroom. A mug with
a one liner that summed up my life in Little Rock, Arkansas. Looking at
this mug now made me throw back my head and laugh loudly like I was
drunk and watching Hannah and Her Sisters.
Every thing's going my way...
It takes us 3 nights and 4 days to drive from Vancouver (BC) to Little Rock (AR). Our car is a car, so space is precious. The other precious thing, besides space or the lack of it, is my cat. Yes, we travel with the cat. I would love nothing more than to drop her off at a friend's house to be watched and cared for by someone I know and trust, but we have been moving around so much the last 3 years that I really haven't met anyone I feel comfortable even asking such a favour. Most people like dogs...cats are a different story. Hell, a guy at a hotel wouldn't even get in the elevator with us and our cat. Was it fear or allergies? Maybe it wasn't the cat at all...
A kennel is out of the question. We were gone for over 20 days this time. There is no telling what we would be coming home to after that long in a cage surrounded by other beasts. My girl is pretty antisocial when it comes to other cats.
She has traveled the US and Canada. She is an Internati-cat. This cat may very well have seen more of the US and Canada than a good portion of Americans and Canadians! She's even been to Whistler!
I won't say she loves to travel, but she is pretty good about it and although I have a bottle of prescription knock-out pills for her, I have never had to use them.
So what is the secret to traveling long distances with a cat? I do not know the secret, but here is how we do it.
First, if your back seat area will allow for it, get a good sized pet carrier. We bought a medium sized Port-a-Crate from PetNation right before we set out on our first expedition and it has served us very well...but it does take up half the space in the backseat. It folds up when not in use and the fabric part is removable in case it needs to be cleaned. It has two zippered flaps (top and side). The only thing it is missing and really needs are handles for easier lugging.
The first trip from AR to BC, I was pretty strict about her staying in
the crate. I didn't know how she would react to being in a moving car
and I envisioned a freak out that had me prying her claws out of my
husband's head as we sailed over the guardrails of a mountainside
highway - ala Toonces. She cried and got fairly depressed and by the time
we hit Seattle she had gone demented on me and began sitting in her poo
box. My girl had devolved to one of those pound kitties you see curled
up in the litter box. This caused me great concern.
On the trip back I waited until we were out of the shadows of Seattle
and unzipped the top flap enough for her to crawl out. She did this cute prairie dog/jack in the box thing then perched herself on top of the crate and watched cars go by. She napped.
She pawed at the zippers when she wanted to use the poo box. Smart
Kitty!
Speaking of the poo box...One thing a dog will do (usually) is let you know when it has
to...go. Cats? Hmmmm, they don't do the barking pee-pee dance like
dogs. A dog will wait awhile until you can get to a secure place. A cat
will use the carpeted floorboard and scratch imaginary sand over the
puddle. Even if mine could (or would) do the pee-pee dance I couldn't see
myself at a rest area with a cat on a leash. A litter box is essential.
I got a Sterilite box that wasn't quite as big as a regular sized
litter box but bigger than a shoe box and velcro-ed it in the corner of
the Port-a-Crate. The Sterilite box also has slightly higher sides,
which is good in this situation. This left a good amount of room for
her to move around or sprawl out. I padded that area
with blankets and towels - things I could shake out once we got to a stopping place for the night.
I also highly recommend investing in a small jar of Vick's Vapo Rub.
Our first drive would be a true learning experience. All packed up and on our way, we weren't at the end of the block when we heard a scritch scritch scritching in the Fresh Step. Thinking it was just going to be a nervous pee break we laughed. The laughter ended abruptly and turned into a mad scramble for the Vick's when we realized that Hindu had just dropped a "kitty bomb". Like that scene out of Silence of the Lambs, we dug blobs of Vick's from the jar and smeared it on our upper lips and nostrils. She began meowing loudly - she didn't want to be trapped in the crate with it either! By the time the Vick's stopped working the Fresh Step had taken over as a desiccant - the smell was gone - and I was able to clean up the box before lunch time rolled around. Good litter and high quality food is the key for less smelly "kitty bombs". Some foods work better than others when it comes to this and I curse Nutro for abandoning the production of their odor control formula several years ago.
Having done the trip several times since, we have become pros. We do the same routine every time because we realized that changing the routine makes her very nervous. I hate the harness collar, I always get it twisted, but she is used to having it on in the car. Not putting it on is out of the routine. The crate is always placed in the same place and position: poo box ALWAYS is next to the window! Crate is ALWAYS behind the driver. We took a quick spin with her recently and didn't do this familiar routine - no collar, crate on my side, poo box in wrong direction - and she wouldn't shut up about it. She even gave a few anxiety pants...you live, you learn.
Hindu loves hotels. She likes sniffing around the new surroundings. She also likes to scope out possible hiding places because she knows as soon as we get up it's back in the harness and crate. We have had to move hotel beds to get her, and I can verify that the area behind the bed is rarely attended to by the cleaning staff. We have made it part of our routine to block those gaps. We let her "hide" until the very last minute and I have to say only a heartless bastard would fail to say, "awwwwww sweetie" when picking her up from her hiding hole. She makes a meek "eww" then goes limp like a furry bag of Wonderbread.
She has never made a mess in a hotel room, although this last trip she pawed a Pepsi cup of salsa from the table to the carpet in the middle of the night. I found it the next morning and luckily it had landed upright on the lid. She likes to push things off of tables. I guess she is a fan of gravity.
She is 99% an indoor cat these days. We have to watch her closer than a 2 year old or she will make a break for the door if it even appears we are going out. One time she whipped by the husband so quickly he didn't even notice until about 20 minutes later when he asked, "Where's the cat?"
I nearly lost my mind. We tore the hotel room apart like we were the Who. We looked down the halls, in the lobby and stairwells. We shook a bag of treats that any other time would have her running at us like a bull at a matador. We looked outside, even though the room was not accessible without a stroll through the lobby.
I was about to scream, "You lost my cat! I want a divorce!" when the hotel manager knocked on the door. She had found our little escape artist in the lobby under a chair.
Since we cross international borders it is really important that I have proof that she is a well taken care of cat and up to date on all of her shots. Being an indoor cat, the vet said she really doesn't need the feline leukemia shot...but being an Internati-cat who stays in strange hotels where other animals might have been...I feel better with her having it. I also make sure that before we leave she gets a dose of Revolution. The last thing anyone wants to pick up on a trip is fleas.
I have a manila folder with her latest shot records and a few pictures of her (just in case).
People look at me like I am nuts when I tell them we travel with
our cat. But when I look at these pictures I think I would be crazy not
to!
Show us some found art.
The Librarians are on strike. The meter readers are on strike. The garbage men are on strike.
The flowers are not on strike.
I'm a little behind over here.
Canada Day is July 1st. Originally it was called "Dominion Day". Some people call it "Cannabis Day". Here are some of those people.
"Seriously, it's a camera. It's not a bong, I promise. Just look through that and push this button."
