In Kandahar Fields

Am basking in one of those glorious sunbeams that make it look like God is here for breakfast. Maybe she is...Can't wait to see my friend Tamar after her 6 month tour of duty in Kandahar. Her parents are hosting a brunch this morning for the leagues of family, friends, and well-wishers itching for her embrace before her return to CFB Petawawa. This photo is of Corporal Freeman at the Village Medical Outreach in Kandahar province receiving thanks from a local woman she has just helped, the only medical care Afghani women are likely to receive.

Pan's Labyrinth

In Pan's Labyrinth, a young girl creates a fantasy world to escape the horrors of post Civil War Spain. Guillermo Del Toro's formidable flick splices Ofelia's fairyland and the harsh realities of Franco's fascist post war regime. The film struck several cords:

• Alex Angulo's exquisite portrayl of Doctor Ferreiro. Antonio and I chatted over canas with Angulo in Cantabria in 2002. We dined at the same sidreria and spent 3 days bumping into one another all over Oviedo's historic quarter.


• Even after 60 years, the Civil War remains an open wound for many Spaniards. The forests' Republican resisters brought back memories of friends and family who survived the Blue Coats' expert torture techniques.
  
• Although filmed at El Espinar in Segovia, the film is set near Jaca in the Pyrenees of Aragon where we vacationed in 2002.
  
• Ofelia is portrayed by actress Ivana Baquero. Ironic, no?

Antonio's turn to pick and as his tastes bend in favour of schlocky action films, I was not inclined to trust him on his hunch. I made a vow with myself to boycott films of graphic torture, but after consultation with Richard to go in with an open mind and let the film carry me, I caved. Well worth it for perpetual bad guy Sergei Lopez (remember him in Dirty Pretty Things?), Maribel Verdu's stoic portrayl of Republican infiltrator Mercedes, and Javier Navarette's outstanding score. Mental note to run out and get the soundtrack.

Let the Sunshine in!

Yipeee!!! Day 2 of March Break and hardly tropical but at 5 degrees, I'll take what I can get. Today we sprang forward into spring 3 weeks earlier to bank on natural sunlight in an age of energy conservation. (Not a bad idea Mr. Bush!). I am staring out my office window at blinding sunlight and confirm the findings in yesterday's Globe, that people who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (ie. winter depression due to lack of sun, SAD, how ironic?) are immediately boosted by a few rays in early spring. Prevalent in rainy, cloudy, overcast cities with mild winters (take that Vancouver and Seattle!) I suspect the affects of SAD are wearing off as my husband is a different man today.

Brunch at River and then a foray into the world of Toronto antiquing in our quest for a hutch and dining room chairs and perhaps a trip to Home Depot for baseboards in a half baked attempt to do something about the dungeon we call a basement.

Saturday Night Fever!

Started the evening out in the company of Julio Fernandez Torrejon, Consul General of Spain at the Fiesta de Andalucia. A far cry from Seville at feriatime but pleasurable nonetheless. Fresh from a post in Vienna, and in the T.dot since August, Torrejon represents the interest of the 3800 Spaniards that encompass his jurisdiction from Ottawa to Vancouver. Julio and I chatted amicably over a lovely dinner of empanadas, pinchos morunos, and seafood paella preceded by flamenco and gitaneo. Antonio and I chuckled silently when we were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Lucas Wines (pronounced Weens) to the crowd of 300 Andalusian expats.

We skipped out after dessert to hit the Orbit Room in celebartion of the 40th anniversary of our good friend Daryl's birth. Founded by Rush guitartist Alex Lifeson in 1994, The Orbit grooved it large with special guests, the A Team and their stew of phenomenal 70s disco, funky, and R&B. We donned Tshirts of Daryl dressed to the 9s in a brown 3 piece suit for his first school dance in 1980, got jiggedy with former House Speaker and Minister of Environment and Energy Chris Stockwell and 2 drag queens, and slurped scotch and sodas until 4am.

Marty's Big Night

Augurrriiii! After 40 years of filmmaking, Martin Scorcese finally gets his due. The Departed is the highest grossing film of his career, yet I don't need to see it to know it's not the film he should be most rewarded for. Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas are all intrenched in the CANON of American cinema, made the AFI's Top 100 films in the last 100 years, and ALL went away empty handed at Oscartime.

The marathon began at 3pm with the E! Countdown to the Oscars. Lamo commentary by C-listers marking their turf in front of La Cantina and Republik. E! host Debbie Matenopoulos needed a sandwich and someone should have put Jennifer Holliday out of her 80s has-been misery! OHMIGOD! Despite her Tony win for the birthing of Effie in the Broadway run of Dreamgirls, Holliday was a sorry sight of backfat warbling painfully to the street from the rooftop of the Roosevelt hotel.

All in all a very adequate Academy Awards. Lack of umph due in large part to host Ellen DeGeneres. TV might be her medium but she is intimidated by the big F film crowd and it shows. Although she did manage to recover from a couple of hits with the dummy stick (ie. Penelope Cruz from Mexico?) give me Billy Crystal or Jon Stewart any day.

Gotta admit I prefer it this way but there was no Big Sweep that marched in and took over. If I had to call it I'd say Pan's Labyrinth was the big winner. I was sorry to see Babel walk away empty handed and the unchallenged star of the show was Big Al Gore for his genius in
An Inconvenient Truth. Wish I gave him more credit when he was in power....

2007 trends:

Pick your blue: Midnight (Maggie Gyl) Electric (Emily Blunt). Periwinkle (Jody Foster) Plum (Reese Witherspoon).

Strapless gowns sans bling: Diamonds were relegated to ears and wrists for Rinko Kikuchi, Penelope Cruz, Reese Witherspoon, Anne Hathaway and Emily Blunt.

Tarzan dress with over the shoulder drapes (Kidman's red cobra, Winslet and Beyonce's green crystals, Gyllehall's black and blue feathers, Blanchett in shimmering smoky grey sequins)

Highlights:

My Pe. Here she is totalement gorge in Chopard diamonds and Versace. Icicle's chance in hell of winning but scores huge points for the fluffy feather dress. She always looks so much better when unattached. She and Reese should go for tapas.

Helen Mirren (always fab in Christian LaCroix). Glad to see an Oscar go to an older woman for a change. Hope I look this good 60+.

Reese Witherspoon in plum and bangs had the best look of the night. That'll show that Phillipe for messing with minors.

Rinko Kikuchi is Stage 1 ESL and charming, graceful, and elegant in black lace and crystals.

Abigail Breslin in perfect pink trimmings for the 10 year-old set.

George Clooney: Even my husband was drooling over his Danny Ocean perfection.

Celine Dion: Quelle surprise! Madame Angelil never looked so good in Vintage Galanos green with matching claw belt and bracelet.

What were they thinking?

Jennifer Hudson is 2007's IT girl. She was supposedly THE woman to dress this year. Shame shame shame on Oscar de La Renta for the hideous Michael Jackson metallic bolero and brown H&M pocket dress! Also, knowing a bit about what to do with big boobs, and maybe it was hell coordinating the wardrobe change but, Jen was gushing out of it while belting it out with her fellow Dreamgirls. Tuck those girls in nice and tight for Pete's sake!

Sally Kirkland always shows up loaded and mauls the interviewers. Her vampire cape almost knocked sexy NewBond Daniel Craig senseless. WTF?

Meryl Streep: I suppose when you win 100 times you're allowed to show up in your pyjamas even if they are Prada...

Kelly Preston: Porcheria. The leopard print is better fit for the House of Lancaster than the red carpet.

Cameron Diaz and Rachel Weisz all could have used with a blow out or an up do. The JBF hair is sooooo 1990s. Sheez!

Gael Garcia Bernal. What happened to the QT TT from Motorcycle Diaries? He's dating Natalie Portman (whom I love) so amigo should try parting his hair another way.

Nonna Anne Hathway could have lost the (circa 1986) double bows.

I'd like to slay the anaconda on Nicole Kidman's back. In addition to the Botox looks like she's had cheek implants...

Countdown to Oscar!

I remember television that I watched 28 years ago.

I thank my mother for her many virtues among them her dedication, rock solid work ethic, and for passing on her love of the Awards of Merit for the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences. Been doing the Oscar marathon since I was a wee 6 year-old. My earliest Oscar memory remains watching my mom applaud Dustin Hoffman's win for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role for Kramer vs. Kramer in 1979! (It won 3 more times that year for Best Picture, Best Supporting Actress (Meryl Streep) and Direction (Robert Benton). The legacy of the single-parent-divorce-tear jerker is long. Hoffman remains her favourite celebrity of all time and Kramer is the only film to date that she can tolerate seeing more than once and she wails every single time! She nearly lost her sh*t when I shook his hand and he complimented me on my hair at last year's TIFF.

This Sunday my kin and I will recreate the scene from my 1970's childhood with a few small alterations. We'll get our jammies on later and swap the take-out Chinese for spicy tuna rolls. We'll ditch Barbara Walters' Oscar Night Special in favour of the gowns of the garish on the red carpet. Confirmed presenters include Hugh Jackman, Cameron Diaz, Reese Witherspoon, and be-still-my-beating-heart George Clooney. (Can't WAIT for Ocean's 13. George doesn't know this yet but he's lending us his digs on Lago di Como this summer).

Tensions will be high as newly minted studio head Tom Cruise attends with Robo-bride Katie Holmes with not one, but TWO exes in tow. Kidman is presenting and Penelope Cruz is nominated and although I'm holding out for a miracle, I doubt my Italo evil-eye hex will reach Helen Mirren in time. We'll praise the stunning and normal-bodied (my Penelope) in the California sun and boo the emaciated and over the top (read Celine Dion's garish diamond and backwards Galliano tux). We'll don our maple leaves and cheer on Torril Kove for The Danish Poet and Deepa Mehta for Water and Ryan Gosling for Half Nelson but will graciously accede defeat when Forrest Whitaker takes it all for The Last King of Scotland.

We'll covet the live via satellite dis' that comes every year,(looks like Bush is a likely candidate) and we'll consume the tabloid trash the next day only to forget within 48 hours what 2 days earlier had moved us so much.

God Save The Queen...from herself!

Saw The Queen on Saturday night. Haikugirl and I had to bite the bullet and see it before the Oscars. We started with groovy jazz and delectable bouffe at the newly shwank Pilot in Yorkville--one of our favourite haunts. Although Mirren's performance was commendable the film left me lukewarm. It confirmed what most of us in the colonies have known for decades, that the monarchy is choking on its own crumpets and cucumber sandwiches and no number of hot water bottles or furry pink housecoats can instill humanity into an institution as archaic as the stone castles we dole out trillions of pounds to maintain. Be it "God's" will or shameless nerve, the film triggered a larger debate for me, namely the purpose served by a ruling monarch in an age of liberal and democratic values purported to have been exported by the U.K. in the first place!

The world's remaining monarchs (sauf the houses of Saud, Brunei, Oman, Qatar, UAE, The Vatican and other absolutes) serve a symbolic purpose. Spain's Juan Carlos I never sits on his thrown or wears a crown. As does Elizabeth Windsor he supports whatever governing party wins an election, but does not invite the president elect to requesting royal patronage on bended knee. He is a reigning yet non-ruling monarch and acts as an essential symbol of the country's unity. He and his family draw a salary ( a generous one) and all the royal palaces are national heritage sites not personal-tax-exempt-behemoths-of-stone.

I'm all for a royal family, just sick of paying for them!

Me and Ralph Klein.

Amazing how nothing changes (apart from a pile of phone messages, tracking and assessment, and planning Winter Fun Day. Yipee!). It's day 2 back at work and twas as if I had never departed. Kinda like the Alberta legislature after Ralph Klein's retirement, non?

After a week of hunkerdown hibernation it was time to carry the slovenly carcass that was threatening to take over my form out to the curb. Not that I was carousing the streets of the T.dot reeking bourbon and insulting the homeless but me and King Ralph are back on the wagon and back at life. It's a new day.

Words of wisdom from my novice years: "Nobody will ever remember that you came in sick". Amen Irma.

Oscar nods-- zzzzzz.

The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences announced the nominees for the the 79th Annual Academy Awards to be aired on ABC Feb 25th. With nary a spark Oscar's nominees were very very very predictable. Babel, The Queen, The Departed, Dreamgirls. Multiple nominees in the Depressing-Movies-About-Africa category.

A couple of surprise nomination shutouts. Namely for Volver and The Wind that Shakes the Barley, BOTH ultra laureats at Cannes. Pedro Almodovar was completely excluded from Direction, Original Screenplay, AND Foreign Language Film. Ouch! Gotta hurt being shoved out out of his office especially as Volver is arguably his best work to date. Borat fizzled landing only Adapted Screenplay. Nothing like pissing off the natives in the heartland. There's also the issue of those pesky lawsuits. My bets:

Best Actress: I'm getting bored of the biopic at Oscar time (read Ray, Capote, The Queen) and although my heart belongs to Penelope Cruz in Volver, Oscar will likely go to Helen Mirren for The Queen. Have only seen trailers but Mirren's portrayl of our sovreign really does border on identity theft.

Best Actor: Cannot see Depressing-Movies-About-Africa that will undoubtedly feature scenes of torture and genocide but if the GGs are correct it will be Forrest Whitaker as Ugandan bad guy Idi Amin in The Last King of Scotland.

Best Supporting Actress: I'll throw my money behind Adriana Barraza or Rinko Kikuchi for Babel.

Direction: Martie is my sentimental favourite. Scorcese is the Susan Lucci of the Academy Awards. Absurd that he has never won. But Babel is Inarritu's multilingual masterpiece.

Foreign Language Film: I'm neck and neck English and non films this year. Let's hope Toronto filmmaker Deepa Mehta takes it for Water.

Adapted Screenplay: I'll eat my hat if it's not The Departed taken from the Hong Kong cop flick Infernal Affairs.

Original Screenplay: Guillermo Arteaga for Babel. Hands down.

Best Picture: Need I say more? Babel.

Golden Globes

Last night The Hollywood Foreign Press honoured their best in film and television. Key word being foreign as in not U.S. based, a true indication of the industry's best. Journalists who could give a rat's arse about the $$$ riding on the success of the next big picture and unlike members of 'the Academy' tolerate waaayyy less lobbying from studio heads and agents and publicists et al. Likely the only time you'll see big and small screen etoiles shine at the same venue. Pissers about the GGs:

1. Endless table-snaking especially if you are relegated to the back upper dining room one measly notch above the seat-fillers.
   
2. Annette Bening slurping champagne on 3 close ups.
   
3. The rude way guests chat and mingle even AFTER the commercial breaks when the next presenter is graciously trying to unload the next statuette.

Mental note to treat myself to a PVR for Valentine's Day if for nothing but recording awards ceremonies. I lost the play by play commentary in a Blogger glitch and am working from memory soooooo, here goes:

Jennifer Hudson: Serves her right for almost wiping out on stage. She broke MAJOR GG etiquette rules by not smooching the others at her table or the members of her cast before catapulting to the stage to claim her Dreamgirls booty. That'll show 'em for nicking her off the Vanity Fair cover.

Justin Timberlake: Pipsqueak should save his digs at Prince's diminuative stature. Funk Royalty versus Superbowl halftime show? N'Sych reject is not fit to lick the boots of Prince's purple genius. Nice save by Hugh Grant, though. Prince was stuck in L.A. 'traffic'.

Lorraine Nicholson: Miss Golden Globe? Daughter of Papa Jack and Rebecca Broussaud. Wonder who she lobbied for that job?

PoorJeremy Piven: It's gotta suck being nominated in the same category with Jeremy Irons for anything but then to have the same name as him! Psyche!

Gorgeous Jolie-Pitts: Angie was poised, elegant. Forever a stunner even with her Harley Momma tattoos.

Sarah Jessica Parker: I thought I was free of her wispy pathetic 8-year's old voice, horrid hair, and heinous 'couturier'. However if String Bean Green is to be resurrected from the Sex in the City fossils, it might as well be to plug The Devil Wears Prada.

Toni Collette: What the hell happened? Irrecognizable due to extensive 'work'. Remnants of Jennifer Grey after the botch nose job.

Meryl Streep: Have watched her win awards my entire life and she always always always has bad hair. Never looked so good in her life as in The Devil Wears Prada. Loved her critique of the American Film Distribution Mafia for ditching art films. Prompted Jamie Foxx to comment on the measly 800 theatres that showed Dreamgirls. Vogue nod to Anna Wintour.

Patrick Dempsey: McDreamy nearly ate his stethescope at being duped by hunky, witty, Dr. House for a second year in a row! Double bitch slap!

Nancy O'Dell: Gorgeous earth mother. Hope I look that good 8 months preggers.

Reese Witherspoon: Best dress in Cali yellow. Divorce looks fabulous on her.

America Ferrera - When ugly turns gorgeous. Charming, gracious. Mama Salma and Sister Vanessa rushed to smother her with love and kisses on her big win.

Tom Hanks and Warren Beatty - Ugh! The Beverly Hilton will have to renovate their stage to accomodate their gargantuan egos. Uncouth. Did I hear talk of 'balls' and 'conquests' all in front of his wife? Ick. Ick. Ick. Cecil B. DeMille was rolling over in his grave. Former Beatty love Madinna crooned for him in absentia.

Pedro and Penelope: Pobrecitos. Pedro hates to fly and as much as Volver is my love song to La Mancha, Helen Mirren stole the show THRICE for fab dress and double GGs for Elizabeth I and The Queen.

December 30, 2006.

8am kickoff with a call from Sicily. After a 15 year absence from North America my father has forgotten the 6 hour sleep grace with the same 'abandon' (no pun intended) whenever the parental urge to connect after 30 years of absence takes over. Nonetheless it was all to congratulate me on the anniversary of the day of my birth. I think he was there or something...

Saddam Hussein was hanged at 9am. He appeared poised and stoic before stepping up to the gallows. Much as I know he is a bad guy´s bad guy, a despicable demagogue who inflicted decades of torture and havoc on his own people, there is still that grain of . that does not sit well with me. Killing people to prove that killing people is wrong as modern history watches dozens of despots eke out but for a tribunal here and exiling there. Milosevic, Pinochet, Idi Amin come to mind. Pavlina put it best, 'Kill him. Everybody forgets. Keep him alive and the lessons to be learned from his treachery live on.'

Almost simultaneously a car bomb exploded in Madrid's T4 terminal at Barajas Airport. Before taking responsibility for the explosion, Basque terrorist group ETA warned Aena to evacuate the terminal in preparation for the Big Bang. President Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero is stuck wiping egg off his face with the ink barely dry on the permanent ceasefire he negotiated with ETA in March 2006.

Needless to say Antonio and I had much to talk about at my birthday dinner at Lee. Way cool ambience, as we slurped scotch and munched our way through succulent black cod, braised beef, minty lamb, crispy frites and Asian slaw. Susur even passed our table to wish me many returns.

Felices Fiestas!

The little tree that needed some love is my favourite Christmas image.
To all our adored friends and family on both sides of the Atlantic pond:
Health.
Happiness.
Peace.
Cheers for 2007.

Hola a todos!
Por nuestro queridos de ambos lados del pantano Atlantico:
Alegria.
Salud.
Paz.
Feliz 2007.

Ciao a tutti. Per i cari amici e famiglia sulle due coste dello stagno Atlantico:
Alegria.
Salute.
Pace.
Auguri per 2007.

Ivana and Antonio

Pedro and Penelope, Ole!

Volver is the outstanding apex of Manchego director Pedro Almodóvar's body of work and a love song for his home of Calzada de Calatrava, from the dusty villages of La Mancha seen through the eyes of the women that make its windmills churn. Almodovar nails the female archetype from the proud and praire-like heartland of Central Spain, my second home for the last 6 + years. Starring Lola Dueñas, Carmen Maura, and Almodóvar muse Penelope Cruz as three women who trace the secrets of the livng and the dead and the shame of their family's wretched past from the small village that triggers it all to their refuge in the working class neighbourhoods of Vallecas. Almodovar hits every nuance, every idiosyncracy, every palabrota bang on in part by casting locals in roles portraying themselves.

Filmed in Vallecas, Almagro, and Villanueva de los Infantes Almodóvar never names his pueblo but there is no need. It is La Mancha's Everytown. Cruz packed on 15lbs and a prosthetic rear end for her career tour de force as Raimunda. This is Pé at her top top top form earning Cruz Best Actress honours at Cannes. My hope is she boycotts the Hollywood cotton candy forevermore (read All the Pretty Horses, Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Sahara) even if it does pay the bills. If Volver sweeps the Oscars, as industry buzz is speculating, it could be the first time since Sophia Loren in Two Women that the prize for Best Actress goes to a foreign language film. Genial.

p.s. Brunched at one of my old university haunts, the Cafe Seven West. It's been more than a fortnight since I graced its church pew seating as a novice scribbler mulling Sartre and Le Devoir over café alongé. It's still open 24/7 and the espresso is exactly the way I remember it.

Armani designed THIS?

Desolata Giorgio but Katie could have purchased this ca-keeta on Spadina Ave (what with the lacy collar and frill to boot!). ICK!

Reading up on all the poop on the Cruise/Holmes wedding in Bracciano, Italy. (I'll apologize in advance for the crappy link. You'd think the Braccianesi could have dolled up their site given all the hype surrounding the wedding of the year.)

Sooooooo, I have been eating up all the pink press from the most reliable source on the planet. www.telecinco.es. Seems as if the citizens of Bracciano are mighty pissed at being upstaged by the Hollywood glitterati as their sleepy village of 20 000 was taken over by the likes of psycho-lollipop and Holmes-new-best-Mommy-pal Victoria Beckham, a trillion papparazzi, Brooke Shields, Jim Carrey, Will and Jada Smith, Connor and Isabella Kidman-Cruise (likely sick of globetrotting to their parents' respective weddings) and a cavalcade of Hollywood stars happy to smile nice for the camera for free face time with the press. Now I kind of understand their point. My parents are Italian. I was married in a Medieval Spanish city and have been to enough European weddings to defend the convention and ritualistic rite of passage for villagers to watch the bride exit her home, stroll throught the village square, enter the church if not solely to comment on her gown, her hair, whether she is pregnant, or if she is making the biggest mistake of her life. Observers forked over a hefty 1000 euros for ogling rights that included visions of countless black SUVs snaking up the hill to the castle. Detractors have argued that Bracciano will likely recoup the temporary inconvenience with scores of American principesse that will undoubtedly drool at the thought of copycatting the Holmes/Cruise fairytale.

Ironically the Scientology rite is not legally recognized anywhere in the world which makes me wonder if this was an intentional Cruise calculation given the predictable statute of limitations on Holmes in her most current role as his wife?

Babel, Bad food, Belak

Saw Babel on Friday night. At first the thought of a 2 hr + movie after a long work week was not so appealing. We were up for the flashier Casino Royale but twas not to be had on opening weekend. Antonio caved.
If you want to be heard, listen. Babel weaves the lives of the desperate in Tokyo, the Moroccan desert, and the Mexicali border as one incident richochets throught the lives of many. An American couple plan a Moroccan escape to save their flailing marriage. Their Mexican nanny cannot find a substitute to babysit the blonde scions in order to attend her son's wedding so they accompany her across the Tecate border led by her hot-headed nephew. A deaf mute is living with the affects of teen angst and trauma after her mother's suicide. A Bedouin goat shepherd scrapes by with his wife and three children in the Moroccan desert.

There is talk that director Alejandro González Iñárritu and screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga (collaborators on Amores Perros and 21 Grams, Babel is the third in their 'Death Trilogy') will never work together again after a serious knocking of heads over the auteurship of their previous films. The director is claiming sole credit as the creator of the films, dismissing his screenwriter's contribution to the pictures. In the fallout Iñárritu banned Arriaga from attending the 2006 Cannes Film Festival. Ouch!

HAD HORRENDOUS FOOD AND SERVICE AT SPRINGROLL on Front St. Our server hid from us as we paid our bill and vowed never again. Goes down on my list with the Red Tomato and East Side Mario's. Avoid this cripe and dog food at all costs!

On Saturday we watched rinkside as the Leafs were pummelled by the Devils due in whole to the magic of Martin Brodeur. Antonio was amazed at the fan reaction as Leaf tough guy Wayne Belak took plenty out of Devil Cam Janssen. Even my soft spot for Mike Peca could not rile what was a night of essentially boring hockey.

Autoshare

Spewing on the glories of autoshare.ca for my uber-engaging Media Studies course at OISE. Autoshare is Canada's first car-sharing network. When I expressed (read complained) about the cost of gas, insurance, and the other never-ending evils associated with owning an automobile in Toronto, my husband turned to me and blankly stated 'So, get rid of the car'. I stopped for a moment. How would we get to Ikea? Make deliveries for our wine business? Weekend jaunts and visiting friends out of town? I hummed and hawed over dumping the costly, carbon-belching beast we had inherited from my uncle but after my first click at autoshare.ca, every doubt I had vanished.

Autoshare is every-single-urban-city-dweller's answer to cutting the costs of car ownership and smugly reducing polluting emissions all from behind the wheel of a nifty Mini Cooper or Mercedes Smartfortwo. It takes some planning (about this much . ) and we have never had a problem getting a car when we want it. (If I can help it, I will never own a car again.) For those of you who know me, if you are interested in signing up, mention my name and receive a 50% rebate on the one time sign-up fee.

I. Am. Hooked.

By George!

Dined at George on Queen on Friday night. Albeit for the Iberian lacking wine menu and mini "tapas-style'' portions, chef Lorenzo Loseto's Ital-Canadian fusion creations are deee-lish-us!
Meritxell, Dulce, Celia and I munched our way through a delightful amuse-bouche of beet infused tuna tartar on a crunchy scallion pancake. The champagne from Tazmania was a tad yellow in colour (evidence of passe) and wines are sold by 3oz and 6oz glasses (absurd) as well as bottle size. I make it a rule never to eat gnocchi outside of my mother's house (it's true, ask anybody, they are the bang-on best) however, I caved at Loseto's ricotta blend with smoked porcini mushrooms. Meritxell and I could have eaten the whole pot. Seabass and je ne sais quoi was equally as pleasing as were the bison steaks, beef tenderloin, and prawns with cherry tomatoes. I was pleasantly surprised part way through the evening when the sommelier approached us to introduce herself to me. It appears that my wine-importing husband has far-reaching tentacles.
www.georgeonqueen.com

Wee David Banda

I love Madonna. I love her sass, her morbo, her trailblazing. As the mother of all Material girls, she objectified herself to no end, at her own expense and gain, into the self-promotion powerhouse the likes of which 20th century pop culture has never seen.

However, even I draw the line at the current trend of African baby-as-fashion accessory. Much has been bandied about in the press about how Madge and Guy went about all the normal procedures for international adoption, (funny how the Malawian government waived its residency requirement for the Ritchies, just like entre nous). The cynic in me wonders if this is a simply a bid for more of the rat race competition for face time with the press. No worries though, Queen Esther will prevail as she has a live on-air blessing from Mother Oprah lined up for Wednesday night. Madonna in her own words:

'After learning that there were over one million orphans in Malawi, it was my wish to open up our home and help one child escape an extreme life of hardship, poverty and in many cases death, as well as expand our family. We have gone about the adoption procedure according to the law like anyone else who adopts a child. Reports to the contrary are totally inaccurate. The procedure includes an l8-month evaluation period, after which time we hope to make this adoption permanent. This was not a decision or commitment that my family or I take lightly. My heartfelt thanks for all the good wishes I have received and I hope the press will allow my family some room for us to experience the joy we feel to have David home.'

Hmmmm. Makes you wonder how many agencies would be chomping at the bit to release a 14-month old into the arms of an 'anyone else who adopts a child ' who was:
a) almost arrested for grabbing her crotch on stage in the 'facist state of Toronto'
b) has had run-ins of blasphemy with every major religion on the planet
and
c) had 10 years previously published a sexually-charged-coffee-table-smut-bible.

My guess is they would show her Versace-clad booty to the door.

I am currently engrossed in A Race Against Time, by Stephen Lewis. In his 2005 Massey lectures Lewis rails against the western world (including the World Bank, the IMF, Bob Geldof and his singsongs) and the shame with which we have turned our backs on Africa, its AIDS-infected millions , and the scores of orphans, mothers, sisters, and grannies ravished by the wretchedness of the pandemic. Will the philanthropy of the Jolie-Pitts and Ciccone-Ritchies get the world (read the United States) to shed more light onto the plight of Africa's dying and undoubtedly spawn copycat trends from Paris Hilton to Lindsay Lohan?

FARM AWAY!!!

Among the numerous treasures we discovered this weekend in Grey County is our very own organic beef farmer! Creelo! Better for you and better for your farmer to buy beef farm direct. I saw it myself and it is THE REAL THING right down to Anthony's good ole fashioned farmer values. He rises his rock solid frame with the sun every morn' for chores before heading out to his day job at the local mill only to return in the afternoon for more (as clean a barn stall as I've ever seen them). Them bovine eat nothing but sweet smelling hay (sniffed it myself), cracked corn, and some molasses for the odd nursing mother. We came back loaded with ribs, sirloins, prime rib, and T Bones which we grilled on our BBQ on Monday night with a bottle of Italian Prosecco. Many thanks to Anthony and Alfreda, their charming daughters, and energetic puppies!

Milles mercis for Thanksgiving

Milles de gracias to our wonderful friends Alain, Jocelyn, and Sapphire in Grey County for hosting our second annual Thanksgiving extravaganza. The weekend was peaceful, sunny, glorious. Ventured through the crunchy woods while the grain fed organic 16 pound foul from Butcher By Nature (along with maple roasted squash, sweet potato rosti, chocolate banana fritters and vanilla panna cotta) simmered. Tasty despite the golden price tag and 8-hour roasting marathon. I made a mental note to switch to cracked corn fed turkey from Loblaws for next year. Washed it all down with a fabulous 2000 Lagar Viejo from Bodegas el Molar, available only at the SAQ (www.saq.com) on this side of the pond. www.bodegaselmolar.com.

Sunday was delightful as we picked Northern Spys for our friend Graham at his folks apple farm.http://www.smithsapples.com/ Outstanding place! They only sell to the public via their farm and all labour is local. I'll upload of a photo of our apple-picking stint, just like the Cider House Rules.

Ventured out to Port Elgin's Pumpkin fest (got loads for free gourds, a pumpkin, and a ji-normous zucchini.) where we drooled over an original 1968 Pontiac Firebird convertible---identical to my Zio's before Judas Iscariot sold it off. It made me nostalgic for rides with the ragtop and buying my cousin's first Mr. Turltle pool at Towers. http://www.pumpkinfest.org/fest.org/
We strolled along the beach overlooking gorgeous Lake Huron where Antonio rediscovered my heart ------------------------------------------------------------------>>>>>>>


On Monday morning I retired my brown velour weekender and took a turn as a Mennonite farmer's wife (clad in sequins and designer jeans). Picked loads of beets, onions, potatoes, carrots, garlic, sage, and oregano all waiting to turn into soul warming soups and comfort preserves.