Geeking out at Betsey Johnson

Found the Betsey Johnson (Sex and the City) store today and had some fun... 

Sigh, someday.....

Do I buy this-or do I pay the rent? dress? rent? dress? rent. dress. rent. dress....rent.

Walk away, walk away, walk away, walk away, walk away......

Pointe Heels

Saw these downtown today at BCBG. Pointe-shoe-style heels...interesting, cute, kindof weird

Musical Therapy

Juliette et Chocolat the other night after a screening at the NFB

Casey put this first song on my iPod before he left. If you switch "Alberta" to "Vancouver" its perfect. For the first time, today, it became difficult to listen to without crying a bit.

The next song slated on that playlist is this one- perfect offset. Even if I'm on the train, when this comes on, I dance. Totally worth the creeped-out looks from all the grumps on the metro. NO smiling on the metro!! That must be some kind of rule. Anyways...one of my top favorite songs of all time. If people just listened to this song every day there would be no such thing as anti-depressants.

Superstore be Gone!

One of my favorite things about this place, this big beautiful bustling city is the way we grocery shop here.

Unless you're in the suburbs, there is no Sobeys or Safeway or Superstore. There are many small, family-owned grocery stores (in my neighborhood, all Italian), each with their own charm and their own specialties.

They're on every corner so there's nobody drives for groceries. This means there is no such thing as the big, bi-weekly 250$ mega shop at Superstore like in Winnipeg. I do not miss Superstore!

Food is purchased in small doses, throughout the week. And the prices aren't far off from Superstore. Let's say like Safeway prices. Lots of farm-fresh and organic stuff everywhere. Here in Petite Italie, lots of specialty cheeses, oils and pastas- hence my newly-rigorous workout regimen.

I guess its a little more like the 'old days' here. Getting cheese at la charcuterie, your bread at the bakery...its really lovely! In a way it makes you appreciate and think more about each thing you buy. You end up putting a little more love into the grocery thing when you're not pushing a 90 pound cart, crammed in a mile-long aisle, under fluorescent lights, surrounded by 4 generations of the Haziz family.

It's definitely more work in a way- going more often, no carts, taking your wallet out, paying, putting it back, taking your wallet out, paying, putting it back, taking your wallet out, paying, putting it back, walking all the way home with your bags....I dont know how people do it with kids. I get stressed just watching them try.

But having to put more effort into it makes me appreciate and respect the food more. I never used to save leftovers let alone eat leftovers... or put any work into getting creative with the food I have in my fridge. Now I do!

Can't Stop Watching...

The longer you watch the funnier it gets. I love this guy! So hot in Encino Man...

HéHo! Festival without borders...

Being away from Manitoba during Festival sucks. This is my second Festival in a row spent out of town. Last year I was at the Olympics-which wasn't such a terrible trade-off but this year I really wish I could fly back just for the week...

Instead, all us little Franco-Manitobans living out east made our own Festival out in Sherbrooke. We jigged and made pea soup, bannock, tire, ham and caribou. Almost as fun as the real thing...

In passing, here's a column I wrote about Festival a few years ago...

Festival du Complaining

by Janelle Wookey

As much as I'm dying to take this opportunity to give you an insider's look into the warm n' fuzzy "where everybody knows your name" joys of being a Franco-Manitoban at the Festival du Voyageur, that will not be the main focus of this article. 

As tempted as I may be to rub my offensively irritating, pea soup soaked French-Canadian pride in your face, and tell you that my people organize the week-long event with the same ardour and motivation as when the Festival first started in 1970, I cannot. 

Over the past nine or ten Februarys, the Festival's shriveling character has been a hot topic among Big Fat French Festival Veterans, like me, all over Winnipeg.

When I was a kid, opening night on Provencher Boulevard had more buskers and hot coco stands than BOB fm trucks parked, handing out bumper stickers and water bottles. The snow sculptures lined up on Provencher Boulevard weren't plastered with ads for Dodge or McDonalds. The Festival's main site, Whittier Park was open for everyone, all week. Now the park is only open to the public on certain days. Traditional French-Canadian dance troupe, Les Danseurs de la Riviere Rouge, were the centerpiece of a week's worth of culture-rich performances. This year, they are not performing. 

The overall quality of performers during Festival has been compromised to bring in "bigger" names like Daniel Lavoie, who appeared for one night only, at an event called For One Night Only.

But, like a true voyageur, I paddled my way down to Whittier Park in a 1989 Dodge Shadow I call Denise, and made the portage from tent to tent, carrying this large chip on my shoulder. I did not pay to get in. The gate man, my old badminton coach, laughed, swore in French, and saved me and my friend a combined total of 30$. This was his way of stickin' it to the Festival's administration. 

"I see families coming in here with young kids, and they're paying 60 bucks just to get in. It's all become so commercialized." 

Then, something funny happened. I enjoyed my visit, drinking caribou and laughing with my old boss, my brother's ex-girlfriend, my high school history teacher, my uncle's best friends, my second cousin, my mom's favorite co-worker and the kid who kicked me in the ear in Grade 3. After that first five minutes, I'd forgotten why I'd grown to begrudge the Festival so badly. 

So maybe an administration that's lost its zing doesn't matter, after all. Who cares, right? Somehow, we end up having fun no matter what. We can't help it- We're French-Canadian!

But who am I kidding. I'll probably just keep complaining anyways. Hey. I can't help it- I'm French-Canadian.

Second-Hand Smoke

So many smokers in Montreal. It stinks a lot. It looks trashy. Except on the super euro-looking people. They kinda pull it off. Also, Mary-Kate makes it look cool. How amazing is this coat by the way..and the ring. I love the Olsens. We grew up together.

This song conveniently started playing out of a auto-generated playlist on my iPod yesterday, when I was walking home in a terrible mood after being accosted by countless homeless-people, religious panflet hander-outters and pervy grease balls. I felt like I was in a movie scene..one of those in-between buffer scenes after everything's gone wrong and the girl is walking home all désespèrée...and I was the girl.. haha I love doing that.

(ignore random imagery)