Road Trippin’

(via small magazine | spring 10)

Yet more evidence for my “little girls get the best clothes” theory? Small Magazine. I could take so much wardrobe inspiration from it’s pages it frightens me a little – what does it say about me that I want to dress more like a preternaturally stylish child?

So long as I never cross over into Rachel Berry territory, I think I’ll be okay.

I bought the May 2006 issue of British Vogue while I was stuck at the airport during a particularly nasty lightning storm, waiting for my mother in law to arrive. I used to read British Vogue all the time, as it’s editorial attitude was much more fun than American Vogues (that changed soon after – now they’re largely the same, unfortunately).

But this issue.

I picked it up particularly for a certain photo-shoot inside:

It drew me in. It captivated me. I loved it. I had to have it (even for rather expensive import magazine price of ten dollars!).

A few days ago a fellow blogger posted a few scans of it online (click through the image to see more) and I was reminded of it’s vibrant beauty – and realized that some percentage of the inspiration for my wedding was sublimated somehow from it – even though I had forgotten about it. That whimsical, faded, colorful, thirties thing? Well that could certainly also describe my wedding.

And it’s made me decide, that I think I’m going to need to have balloons, certainly.

I was worried they’d look a bit like a kids birthday party, but this has proved to me that the can instead look quite, well… couture.

If you’re in a celebratory mood (and even though I’m a Canadian, I know I am) here’s some links to revel in:

1. Inside Barack Obama’s iPod

   He has excellent taste in music – he loves Stevie Wonder. So do I Barry, so do I.

2. Beautiful pictures from the Obama campaign

   My all time favourite picture of Obama, is the one of him hanging from a bar in a gymnasium, doing a pull-up (I think it’s pretty symbolic of not just strength, and resolve, but also a good sense of humour) but really there’s a lot of photogenic to go around with this guy.

3. The Speech

   A thorough examination of Obama’s breakthrough 2004 DNC speech. A must-read for anyone interested in not only, how this whole thing got started in the first place, but how Obama’s rhetorical skills were honed (am I the only speech-geek in the room? Yes? Oh. Well, I blame Aaron Sorkin).

4. A More Perfect Union

   His speech on race gave me chills and tears in equal measure, but I do love a good oratory. If you haven’t watched/read it yet, now’s probably the time to do so.

5. Barack Obama, Forever Sizing Up

   A interesting exploration of the personality and possibilities of the future President that will be.

Last week my friend Christine kept talking about banana bread on her blog, and if there’s one thing I can get on board with, it’s a delicious baked good. Luckily I had some bananas that were just about ready to rot sitting on my microwave, so I whipped up a batch.

I used this recipe (called Aunt Holly’s Banana Bread) because, who doesn’t love a baked good that invokes somebody’s beloved auntie? Also, it came from Cookie Magazine, also known as the number one reason I want to have children (to have a legitimate reason to get a subscription).

It turned out delicious. As you can see.

It was also really, really easy. I recommend it, highly.

I also recommend not skimping on the chocolate chips.

I think Mark Bittman lives inside of my brain, scribbling down all my ideas, codifying them and then turning them into concise New York times article.

How else could you explain this great little article about eating healthy by cutting back on meat consumption that pretty much surmises all of my feelings on food, and all of the tricks I use to eat healthier.

It’s obviously because he’s got some sort of portal into my soul, like in that Spike Jonze movie.

Well, anyways, I’m not sure how I missed it (it’s a few months old at this point) but I approve of it. Eating less meat has been wonderful for our health, and especially our pocket book (meat has always been expensive, but with food prices the way the are right now, it’s even more so). It’s kinda a common sense approach to things that in no way approaches a diet, but functions pretty effectively as one anyways.

I think my favorite two tips are to use meat as a condiment, and to pig out on the bad stuff every once in a while. By using meat as a condiment, we get the delicious hearty umame flavour of meat that we enjoy, without the high cost to our waistlines and pocket books. By giving in to our cravings when we feel them, we don’t feel like we’re being denied anything by choosing to eat healthier. So except for those few exceptional moments when we go for fast-food poutine, or bake a frozen mac and cheese (yeah, I’m kinda addicted to cheese, what of it?) we do it all the time, every day, without fail.

My first little garden harvest has come in, and I’ve found a couple of collections of recipes in the last couple of days that are going to be indispensable for cooking up my fresh and (very) local produce.

They are both by the New York Times’ Mark Bittman who first came to my attention when he proclaimed that the best chefs don’t need a fancy kitchen filled with pricey gadgets to cook great food – a thesis me and Alton Brown can totally get behind (I’ve actually given away bread makers, George Foreman grills and food processors – they just take up too much space).

The first is this handy compilation of 101 quick and easy picnic recipes. Each recipe is about 2 sentences long and they all sound either deliciously unconventional, or at least, painless in their simplicity.

I think I might just start making my way through them – they sound perfect for avoiding actually ‘cooking’ in this heat that’s finally decided to come and stay.

Then there’s the smaller collection of recipes attacthed to this review of a delightful sounding vegetarian restaurant in the south of France. Good, hearty veggie recipes are so hard to find, but these sound incredibly comforting and satisfying.

In particular, the recipe for swiss chard stuffed with risotto is going to get some use, I think, what with my bumper crop of beautiful, neon-tinged bright-lights chard.

Well, we’re still pretty busy ’round here, especially since we are leaving for a bit of vacation soon (nothing too exciting, just returning to Liam’s hometown for a week to attend one of his oldest friend’s wedding).

We spent the other night on the set of a TV show, which was pretty cool. Even cooler was seeing a good friend, an old friend, take charge and kick ass like the awesome producer she is.

Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that I was just a kid, and now my friends are lawyers, and producers and doctors. It’s weird to know real, live, important grown ups. It means I must be one myself (scary).

Anyway, I might try apprenticing on set in the art department – which has always been one of my (admittedly many) dreams. I even took a course or two in set design.

Talk turned to the completely unglamorous work that goes on behind the scenes of these things, and it was mentioned that one should be prepared to get covered in all manner of messes at this particular shoot.

Of course, only I would turn that conversation into an opportunity to wear a cute outfit… But of course I did.

People are always surprised to find that I have no fear of getting messy – but you can’t do things like art or cooking or gardening without getting a little dirt under your nails, a little flour on your collar and a little paint in your hair.

You just have to prepare yourself for a mess – and that includes wearing proper attire.

So at the moment, I’m dreaming of cute kerchiefs and cuffed coveralls, worn Rosie the Riveter style. Something like this gorgeous little pic from this months Marie Claire (found via Jezebel, of course):

I’ve even found a company that makes adorable coveralls, specifically fitted for women, named after Rosie (which is pretty awesome).

Of course, Bluelines loves a good coverall too, and actually did a more stylish spin on them, turning an old pair into a cute little shirt dress.

Which is probably more the route I’ll take. Particularly the scrounging thrift and surplus stores for a deal part – because I’d rather not get cement, and mud, and wood glue, and paint all over something I paid more than twenty bucks for. It’s kinda the point of wearing coveralls in the first place.

People in this town keep talking about gentrification.

The tendency is to automatically decry it as a very bad thing.

Of course it’s not exactly all that bad. It can actually be a very good thing. There are many areas that could use a little gentrifying here and there. I don’t see what could possibly be wrong with taking a dangerous, decrepit neighborhood and turning it on it’s head. What’s so bad about taking something that’s broken, and fixing it?

That was why, when we moved back to Toronto 3 years ago, we moved to the edge of Parkdale.

It was an up and comer, a place that had potential, but was still rough around the edges.

Artists lived there, it was cheap, it was cool, it was filled with young people, there was lots to see and do – there was always something interesting going on.

Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones who noticed something interesting going on there.

In the two years we lived there, we saw that neighborhood turned on it’s head – and the problem was, it was already gentrified enough when we got there. There was already a Starbucks. There was already some fancy lofts. There was already a Drake hotel. Realtors were just beginning to snap up empty lots to develop into boutique condos.

I think the thing is, there’s a possibility for a neighborhood to go beyond just being gentrified. There’s a possibility for it to just turn into a different version of what it was in the first place – a dangerous place, where you don’t want hang around – let alone live.

Which is why I sighed when I read this article about my old digs – complete with a picture of the nice lady with the cute dog (a fox terrier, just like Asa from the Thin man movies) who ran the vintage furniture store down the street. It pretty much sums up all the reasons we moved away from Parkdale (or Queen West West or as they’re calling it now “Beaconsfield Village” – not that I ever heard it called that when I lived there 9 short months ago – which makes me pretty sure it’s solely a Realtor invention for marketing purposes, just like nearby “Liberty Village”).

We saw it happen. We saw the suburban twits drive down from the suburbs in their SUVs every weekend and turn a friendly, bohemian community into a coked-out, drunken orgy (and I do mean that literally, as there’s now a swingers club on the block). Now that it’s started, there’s pretty much no way of stopping it.

I guess the only hope is that once the condos are built and filled with people, some actual infrastructure starts being developed to prevent the place from going to blight (although I’ve seen brand new condos go to blight before, on the cusp of the last economic downturn).

But, for the moment, it’s a bad scene. The neighborhood has become, once again, a place that’s not very livable.

And even if we occasionally miss some of the vibrancy (and the Black Dog video store) we’re pretty glad we got the hell out of there.

The complete opposite side of town is seeming like a pretty nice place to be, at the moment.

Wow oh wow oh wow. I wish I were a member of this family.

Do I even need to explain to you how awesome this is? Awesome. Buckets of awesome. Unfortunately it is also millions of dollars worth of awesome. Those are swanky digs, even without the fact that everything in every room is a custom designed clue.

Still. A girl can dream, can’t she?

I don’t get to go to Europe this year (which makes it sound like I usually spend my summers on the Riviera, instead of the Haliburton Highlands).

So I’m reading this instead. Which is a terribly good read.

On the other hand, I must admit that a big lesson I have learned recently is that traveling the world (much like having read a lot of books) does not automatically make you a good, or even an interesting person. Some of the crankiest, meanest, most horrible people I have ever met are well traveled. Much like some of the stupidest people I have ever met have been “well read”.

Just because you read a book, doesn’t mean you understood it.

Just because you went to France, doesn’t mean you appreciated it.

Really, all being well read and well traveled makes you, is a person with too much money and time on your hands.

Being a conscientious, open minded person is so much better.

So I’ll keep planning yet another exotic vacation to exciting downtown Thunder Bay, with some possible detours to glamorous Deluth, sparkling Kitchener, bustling Prince Edward County and of course the Haliburton Highlands (where the family cottage is situated). Because that’s what we can afford this summer, and dammit, I’m going to make the most of it.

Besides, I’m betting the vast majority of people who have toured Europe have never known the joy of a Bon-Bon Sparerib while sitting atop a curling rink. And for that they are the lesser.

Geeez, how can you not hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

“Hi, I’m an internationally recognized beauty, with a British rock star husband, and the most pretentiously named babies in the world.

“I was just hanging out in my Hamptons apple orchard wearing a silk Etro mini-dress in front of House and Garden editors (here to shoot my preternaturally beautiful summer home) when I decided to whimsically pick up a hula hoop I just found lying around. Oh, and look at that. My Oscar. Who left that lying in the rhododendrons?

“Aren’t I whimsical? Aren’t I pretty? Aren’t I skinny? Aren’t I wonderful?”

Meanwhile, whenever she goes out to pick up diapers she looks like a fat schlub. Which is cool, cause she’s a mommy and stuff, and that’s what’s realistic.

It’s just seems like she seems to be working awfully hard to win us all over… And you know how well that always worked out on the playground.

The good news?

I got quoted in the National Post.
(That’s a national newspaper here in Canada, for those of you who weren’t aware – although it is admittedly the lesser one.)

The bad news? (get ready there’s a bit of it).

They misspelled my name (I’m not Beth Mather, if you weren’t already aware).

And I didn’t actually know they were gonna quote me, since I just commented on something on Torontoist, and they slapped that together into an article. (Which is pretty much the most lazy and lame way of writing something, I have to say. In fact, I think they told us not to write our essays like that in University, or we’d get kicked out.)

And I’m on the wrong side of the argument, apparently. (Obviously I don’t think so, but whoever it is at the City desk does – which doesn’t actually surprise me, because my whole point was that Toronto media is a select group of sheltered individuals who don’t reflect the people of their city in the slightest. So I’m not surprised she’s shocked at a little criticism, and sides with the elitists.)

At least they spelled my name wrong.
Maybe I should move that one up into the good news column.

Argh.
I have spent the last couple hours trying to take and upload photos… Mostly for the purpose of (finally) letting the internet share in the joy of the birth of my zine.
Everything I do seems to screw up. My camera was set to the wrong settings, then my cat kept trying to get in the shot, then the rainy weather outside ruined my lighting, then I couldn’t keep my hand from shaking and making the pictures blurry. On top of it all Photoshop is being sluggish and all crashy.
So, as a result this is all you’re getting right now.
It’s the front cover. Tantalizing, no?

Can-zine was officially, awesome. There’s a pretty good sum-up, run-down here. Too many beautiful things, too many indie kid’s crammed into some tight spaces and not enough deodorant (which was very, very unfortunate). I sold a few zines, traded a bunch more and gave out a few for free too (yep, because I liked their face, honest). Mostly I wandered around dumfounded and overwhelmed.
I rocked the Welland table. Welland has some hard-core, serious and famous ‘zinesters…
Who are apparently some of my good friends. Who knew?
I guess I’m a Wellander by association. I think having friends and family there give’s you a bit of cred when it comes to the Rose City. Not as much as growing up there, but enough to associate with the people without getting beat up.
Oooh, by the way I found out one of my Welland friends (Mr. Mike Pisiak, my predecessor as illustrator and comics god at the Brock Press) has a blog I was unaware of. It is called house of irony and it is everything you could hope for and more…
If you were hoping for irony, sarcasm and boy-related pop-culture that is.

I will be at canzine today – pretty much for the whole thing, as I may have to drive a couple folks home. I will have a small zine, that I may be selling or giving away for free, depending on how I like your face.
You think I’m joking, but I’m not.
I have a friend that has a table, which is awesome. She told me I could have some space there but I don’t really have anything to sell. I wish I had more time and warning for this thing, I totally would have thrown some more substantial stuff together.

I think I’ve realized something.
So much of our time and energy is devoted to being OK, to being content.
But: it seems every-time I break down and admit that things aren’t OK, and I’m in a miserable mood, things actually start to get better.
It is a little counter-intuitive to do, and so much of the world is set up to punish whining…
But it seems it is better, and nobler to be humble than to pretend to be strong and resilient – when you’re not.
Anybody who tells you to buck up is an idiot.
In vaguely related news, I have finished my zine (now I just need to get to the complex task of copying and stapling). It’s theme ended up being absolutely nothing to do with what I was talking about before, but I am very proud of how it’s turning out.
I have also fielded an invitation to take a two day shopping holiday across the border in Buffalo. Yay.

I am trying, really hard to come up with a small ‘zine to work on for the next little while. But it’s causing me trouble. I can’t decide what to do with it.
I have two instincts here.
The first is to do something short, sweet, cute, funny and fuzzy-animal-cartoon related. A crowd pleaser I can make in large quantities and hand out, with my web-site address on the back. Something I would enjoy myself, if I were handed that sorta thing.
The second is to do something larger darker and more artistic. More classic personal ‘zine, something fancy and personal I can stick in my portfolio.
I actually have semi-started on the second, only because it’s what came easier. At first anyway.
All this being sick and going to doctors, and tests and MRI’s and stuff is great material. It needs to go somewhere, get recorded and expounded.
But when I look at my outlines and sketches, it’s not the kind of thing I really enjoy or appreciate.
I appreciate fluff.
Hello kitty, pink, sarcasm, irony, wit, silliness, style and preferably little substance.
I’m sorta trying to combine the two, but I don’t know how it’s working.
I have a bit of an hidden inner perfectionist, that is mostly stifled, but occasionally comes out and is stifling instead.

Should I take this as an insult? Or not?

Brock Boy/Girl madness
As a former Brock student, I have always enjoyed the Brock Press and continue to read it by way of your e-mail edition. I do, however, have one suggestion: Stop the fucking Brock Boy/Brock Girl “article”. It is not Arts, and it certainly does not fall under the classifcation of “Entertainment”. With elitist nerd Beth Maher in charge of this garbage, you at least had an opportunity to learn the names of the random weirdos in the halls. Now, thanks to Kristen De Palma, your readers are subjected to a nauseating and embarrassing display of over worn and outdated fashion. As if that weren’t enough, her questions seem only to teeter between ridiculous and irritating. Finally, and I think this is the most important point here, no one wants to be the Brock Boy/Brock Girl.
I don’t know how many ways I can say this. I do know that I’ve kept quiet about this for too long.
Just stop.
Chris Thompson
BA Pop Culture, 2004
(ed. note) The Brock Boy/Brock Girl article frequently places in the top-five in hits on our web site and finished fourth this week, far and away ahead of any other Culture article.

From the Brock Press opinion page for September 20/2005.

For those not in the know, I used to write a fashion column for my University’s paper – a semi-sarcastic style profile of a boy and a girl on campus.
Also, interestingly enough, I think I know this Chris Thompson. I’m prettty sure he was a devestatingly gay boy on my residence floor in first year.
Come to think of it, it’s pretty ironic to be called an elitist nerd by a gay pop-culture major.

Fall has pretty much begun, and things are picking up speed. I have fielded many crafting invitations, and I hope to get doing that again.
Liam is going to be gone A LOT, which I’m ok with because we spent WAY too much time together the last few months. Not that I’m ready to throttle him or anything, but we’re running out of topics of conversation.
On Monday’s he’s at the school being the hot young writing TA. The rest of the week, he’s the hot-shot young intern in Toronto.
We’re gonna try to move and find a place downtown. Nothing too soon, just keeping our eyes open.
The magazine is in that block of clubs, restaurants and new media firms found in between Spadina, Queen, King and University. If you know Toronto, you know what I’m talking about. So I’m hoping we find something around there (no farther north than Bloor). I hope we can find something that doesn’t involve the words: ‘waterfront’ and ‘condo’. I don’t think we could afford it any-ways, but I wouldn’t want it even if we could.
I just picked up a neat book: Jack Hamm’s Drawing the Head and figure. It’s a bit dated. But in a good way. All the girls have permanents and high heels, and the men wear suits and lack genitalia. I kind of love it.
I’ve been looking for a way to brush up on my figure drawing. It’s hard to find books that are actually helpful. Most of them assume by memorizing anatomy and staring at renaissance paintings you can learn it all.
This one’s a bit different. Not only does it have that awesome retro appeal, it actually tells you all the nifty little proportional tricks of the trade that all the pro’s know, and refuse to share. Best of all it was cheap.
I would still like to be able to track down (and then be able to be afford) a book of nudes for figure drawing. I’ve seen a couple, but they’re limited and expensive. I wish I could take my first year life drawing class all over again.

Today I am finishing up work on the Very Big Project. I basically have only a couple drawings left to finish and then I’m done (unless my client decides there’s anything else they need done – which is still pretty possible). Here’s a little sneak peak (that is obscure, and tells you absolutely nothing about what the Project is, or what it looks like, ha).

In between moving things around in Illustrator, I was downloading songs. The entirety of Stevie Wonder’s 1972 “Talking Book” to be specific. I have decided it is one of the best albums ever, of all time. The cat agreed. Her little ears twitched in time to “Superstitious.” It was the the cutest thing ever, of all time.
The first completely me-less issue of the Press has come out. I ‘m pretty sure the new illustrator Joe put me in his comic, but the gif’s too small for me to read the text and be sure. I’ll have to pick up a copy. It makes me very excited, I was editor all last year and not one comic artist put me in their comic. Joe is my favourite person again (sorry new layout guy who used to work for Fantagraphics).