UPCOMING GIGS

  • Aug. 5, 2017 Private Party, Carnarvon, ON
  • Aug. 4, 2017 Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • Aug. 2, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby ON
  • May 17, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • April 29, 2017 Minden Cultural Centre, Minden, ON
  • March 24,2017 The Old Mill Toronto, Home Smith Bar
  • Feb.26,2017 San Pancho Music Fest. Mexico
  • Nov.5, 2016 Radio Hall, CanoeFM, Haliburton, ON
  • Nov. 2, 2016 le Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • Sept. 4, 2016 The Red Umbrella Inn, Minden, ON
  • July 26, 2016, Head Lake Park, Haliburton, ON
  • Jan. 29, 2016, The Home Smith Bar at the Old Mill, Toronto
  • Oct.23, 2015 Gate 403
  • Sept. 9 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • August 22, Gate 403, Toronto
  • August 14, Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • July 29 Hugh's Room, Toronto
  • June 13, Gate 403,Toronto

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

ridin' my bike

I know I'm lucky - blessed beyond belief - I know that. When I am riding my bike along the lake road, in the gorgeous light of the very early summer (well, it's not even summer yet, but you wouldn't know that by the temperatures). At 7pm, it's still bright, but the rays are slanted along the road through all the pine trees (by July, it will still be light at 10pm, here in the north). Nothing like streaming along on the bicycle in all that loveliness, smelling the lilies of the valley, and the pines, and whatever else is blooming. ya, lucky. PARAGRAPH
here's a photo of the lake waves. and did i mention that i actually went into the lake two days ago? a first for that date. chilly, but fantastic. and here's another one of my trusty steed that carries me along the
country roads and lake paths. it's there on the back of the gas-guzzler, and it's viewed from the window where the inuit carving of the dog team mushing through snow sits

Monday, May 28, 2012

waaaaah! it's over

the month of May, that is, and the mad rush of a gazillion gigs. well, almost. it was a busy month. as my old grade seven teacher used to say: "Wake me early, mother dear, for I'm to be queen of the May". PARAGRAPH Can anyone explain to me why the "improvements" in this blogging site have resulted in not being able to make a paragraph anymore? what is this, some dumbing down to the texting level, so that no one uses real English, or grammar, or style? is it too complicated? my solution is to just write it in, as above. (and below) PARAGRAPH Had the grand finale of gigs at the Old Mill Inn in Toronto's west end - for anyone who doesn't know the place, it's fancy shmancy, and it has a lot of lovely jazz lovers who come out to actually listen to the music and the lyrics. quelle joie! We played Friday night, and had a lot of fun. Pics are included. A shot of all of us at the Old Mill; myself looking pensive by the piano; two pics from our gig two night earlier - i tried to take out the duplication, but it wouldn't do that; the "big drip" which is happening even as i write, in my basement - the pump doing a slow leak. i had to add the cardinal in the back yard, just because.

Friday, May 18, 2012

and then the day dawned

Here's how our lady of the forget-me-nots looks in my garden. poor thing did not survive the winter very well. she's lost her arms, just like Venus, but i hung them back on her soldiering body with some twine, and there she stands, in all her blue beauty. In the afternoon sun, I decided to wander around a neighbourhood i had lived in many many years before; very gentrified now, and bursting with people and purple, as i was too.... here are the flowers on my piano from my beautiful, dutiful son. had a lovely visit with him and his family. and finally, last night got out for some more music with the jazz gang. here's me with bassist extraordinaire, Jack McFadden - saxman Jim Galloway is in the background.

mother's night before

It was the tiny tiny view that i had from my passive position on the bed. I lay face down, begging a back massage, - not even that, just a light stroking. I ached for some gentleness. He lay alongside me, stroking, but then gradually pressing himself against my leg. It didn't move me. My head was turned to the right, my hair fell over most of my face, my arms were bent and pulled close to me so that my fist was near my head, but i had this tiny window, from one eye, in which i could see his mouth kissing my hand.
Before that, the idea of kissing or closeness could not overcome my stone wall; so alone was I in my misery of the week just gone, some old isolation triggered again. I don't want anything, i thought. Leave me alone. Then i saw his kissing mouth, and it was like a little stream passing by; a view from a hillside; a toe feeling a trickle of water. It cooled me, it warmed me; it carried life. One thing led to another, as they say. The current carried me, and i was back again, giving in, and opening up some far away cold, hard, and closed part of my self. *********** Afterwards, i told him the story of how, many years ago, i had seen my sister breastfeeding her infant, our younger sister included in the embrace, lying on the bed with mother and babe, her eight-year-old arm across both of them – how shocked and shamed i had felt, knowing that such an intimacy and sweetness would never have occurred to me, and that even if it had, i would have branded it as wrong, and not allowed it. I wept to remember that beautiful, simple closeness, and the depth of my embarrassment at being so unable to create such a moment. I always felt that something was wrong with me, but i had never seen such a startling example of how removed i was. How did i become so alienated from real life? ********** After he left, i dreamt i was on trial, trying to explain to the judge why the new evidence had not been entered before; how it had been buried in boxes that were in my father's basement; how the boxes had been a 'mess'. The new evidence included something that proved how a person's vision was altered by some device, how it was impossible to see properly because of this alteration, and how difficult it was to pry open the device. And a man, a former colleague, also previously caught in the distorted reality, now kisses me openly, now that the truth is revealed. ******** So began mother's day for me, in the wee hours.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The devil will drag you under...

Oh life! That last weekend in April I was up on the roof tearing off the old deck PVC, which was opaque, to replace it with clear stuff (the previous person who lived here didn't believe in light, it seems). Big boots, ladders, hammers, and drills. Then, this last Sunday, there I was, all angelic in my pearls even (!), and singing with the choir - some pictured here. But the cookies at break got me all wired, so when I came home, I had to jump onto the piano stool and photograph myself in various black dresses, trying to decide what to wear on my next gig. Quel probleme! My riotous time also pictured here. (Sit down, you're rockin' the boat!) You could help me by voting for the outfit you like, and emailing me: fumblingforchange@hotmail.com That's if you're really bored. next gigs are: Whitby, Ontario at zee leetle frensh place, The Nice Bistro, 117 Brock St. May23 7-10pm then The Homesmith Bar, at the Old Mill, Toronto May 25 7:30-10:30pm

Friday, May 4, 2012

BOY, I HATE THE NEW BLOG DESIGN!!!!

they can't leave well-enough alone, can they? it was all fine, and now, every time i sign in, i get a whole page of crap, and i can't find the place to click on for a new post. but i got here, pissed off as i am. what else is new? the other day i was far from pissed off; i was, in fact, very happy, just singing my heart out, and enjoying the piano of Norm Amadio, and the very appreciative audience at the Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto. a one-hour concert at noon to relieve the tedium and strain of hospital visits and stays. we had a lovely time.
Here we are doing the jazz standards we love. see last post for the next concert (Sunday May 6, with the Bel Canto choir: 2:30 and 7:30pm at St. Dunstan of Canterbury Church, West Hill, toronto)