la vie en rose

Well the summer lazes its way onward - lots o' heat, and so far, lots o' fun - except for knocking myself into the kitchen sink and driving my own elbow, which is unhealthily sharp, into my ribs, so that now i am officially injured. Can't breathe deeply, laugh, cough, or sneeze. Or get myself supine very easily. Otherwise, great. PARAGRAPH I can sing, however, and did so last weekend, opening up for the wonderful Jerome Godboo, harp master, and his partner for the performance, Eric Schenkman of the Spindoctors, on guitar. A gorgeous setting on a remote Haliburton lake, with folks listening out on their boats, and the sun casting its golden rays over trees, rocks and water. Photo of Jerome & Eric during their fantastic show

, and one of me just before I started my set. Oh, OK, I've added the very unflattering "large load" shot of my ass (must be the camera)just to prove i have no ego. In fact, my ass is quite unlike this.

Thanks to Doug and Barbara and the lake association for the great time (and food). PARAGRAPH Next day, Sunday, was the CANOE FM (for whom I do a radio show) summer party. More fun, good people, and food food food. Coming up soon is the 2nd annual dance party at The Minden Legion, Saturday August 18, 2012; 8PM; HWY 35 & RD.121 The Jump, Jive, and Wail Dance Party. We'll have a blast, as we did last year, and we guarantee lots of great jumping and wailing. You do the jiving. P.S. A photo of a weird caterpillar in the morning one day.

P.P.S. Just got this photo sent to me too: Jerome accompanied me on my last tune.

THE BEAR TRUTH

This is a photo (third one down)taken from the doorway of my place in the woods. You can see the fire pit with the frying pan, my work gloves, and an old card from a sister, signed ‘love always’, - although I never hear from her anymore. (the idealism of youth, I guess…dust to dust). The story of the picture is: the other day, as I was about to go into town, there was a black bear out there – and alas, my camera wasn’t handy – but he was just that close, poking around lazily, sniffing the day lilies. As soon as he saw me at the door, impatiently waiting to get on my way, he scampered into the forest. Close as he was, it wasn’t as near as the mama bear who came right up the stairs to the other door, and pushed her snout right up against the screen. I was crouching about a foot and a half away from her, behind the piano. I thought “hmmm, she could just push that screen through real easy-like. And I tried to remember the running-into-bears advice I’d read. ‘Make a big, scary sound’ was one bit. So I did – a ferocious zoe-growl. Then, as we eye-balled each other, I remembered another bit: ‘Do not threaten a bear by looking at it directly.” Too late, I thought, I’m dead. But she just turned around and headed off, like the lily-sniffer. PARAGRAPH Then there was “the conversation”, which happened a few years back, after a large male bear kept coming by daily and knocking over the composting bin. I finally moved it and surrounded it with wire fencing after a zillion restorations. So when I heard the rattling and banging, and looked to see that once again Mr. Bear had bashed through the wire and overturned it anew, you can imagine how annoyed I was. Without thinking, I opened the door and started yelling at him: “What the…Stop doing that!” he made a bear-like noise back, and stood looking at me. I was still pissed off and said, “Well, you know, I have to pick up after you all the time, and I’m sick of it!” “Grrrr”, he rumbled, and he turned away and walked into the woods. “Just like a man,” I thought, “grumble and walk away”. It was a weird, and now when I think of it, a wonderful occurrence. You know you’ve been alone too long when you pick fights with a bear. My last bear image: looking out the kitchen window to see a bear cub right on top of my car. Cute. Heavy. PARAGRAPH I know. You wondering about the singing. After all, that’s supposed to be my job, not telling bear stories. Well, being as grouchy as a bear, I had decided to not do anything but jump in the lake this summer, but in fact, I am planning now for some gigs in late July and in August. I will keep you (com)posted. Meanwhile, some photos from a recent birthday party for my guitar-playing friend (and former band-mate) Paul. Great celebration. Yes, the band wears kilts. PARAGRAPH And this just in: I stopped at the real estate office on my way to the library computer, and was looking at one lakefront listing that wasn’t half a million dollars, when the agent said, “Here’s the owner now”. A man with a very healthy gut walked in. From Cleveland. He started complaining about all the money he’d lost recently in the current economic climate. I started my usual “Blame it on the greedy corporations…”. And he said, to my still unbelieving shock, “I blame it on that coon in the white house.” That shut me up. That good old American freedom of speech. I walked out at that point. Rather talk to a bear any day, than that fat, ignorant, bigoted, racist pig. PARAGRAPH and news I just got: I'll be played on Italian radio: http://www.animajazz.it/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1903 on Sabato, 14 Luglio - that's Saturday, July 14. Tune in if you can.

hot enuff for ya?

it's stinkin' hot (it ain't the heat, it's the humidity) here in Ontari-ari-ari-o, but it's cool here in the local library, so it's time to bring you all up to date on the fascinating facts of the life of a girl singer. First, back in May, we had the many gigs in Toronto, then we finished up the month at a wedding celebration here in the highlands (there i am, in the orange, then, when my shirt turned yellow, singing with Irene); then, well to be honest, not a lot has happened except for trying to get rid of some junk in my place (listen to my song entitled "No More Stuff" - oh, i'm sorry, it's not on CD yet, which is why i need more money) - you can listen to it soon, i promise. PARAGRAPH So after the collecting of stuff, I had to sell some of it, thus the next pictures showing the beautiful location of the community flea market, a fundraiser for the arts gallery. See the appealing table of some of my goodies, and myself lounging by the lake, waiting for customers. PARAGRAPH And then it was on to the studio to record a couple of tunes. Lucky me to have a local music society that helps artists in the community financially for this. and lucky me to have such great and musical friends, such as Ian, - studio engineer and bassist, and John, saxophonist and flautist, and Carl (late of The Guess Who), playing drums and guitar. And a great time was had by all. Photos show only Ian, John, and myself. Didn't have the camera for Carl's session. PARAGRAPH Today was going to break a lot of temperature records, so for our lunch date, the girls and i decided to just go to Heather's house and jump in the lake, after eating her splendid spread. See photo of strawberry soup (fabulous!), and other salads she had prepared. So tra la la la, la la la meeting; we're so happy when we're eating. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow....Goodnight, Mr. McGarrigle.

The Shape of Things

If you didn't know what this photo was, you might think it was an interesting shape, possibly even pleasant. To me, it could be a distant shoreline of mountains, with the waves of the lake in the forefront. But once revealed (turned clockwise) as a human body, sideview, it becomes very much less than attractive, verging on repulsive. Just a subtle shift of focus, but a huge effect. And there you have illustrated the work of life: overcoming the downward pull of everything. PARAGRAPH That was Friday night's rumination, leading to Saturday, June 9, 2012 (or Saturn's day, - the planet of S-L-O-W), during which (whose?) arrival occurs, not slowly, but in the speediest succession, even crazier dreams than before. Here, from last night, and by way of example, is the most CRAZY DREAM ever: A toilet bowl of my own shit, recently expelled, and imploring me, in a plaintiff child's voice, "Don't leave me". And then I talk back, and explain, in patient and loving parental tones, that I'm not really leaving (or somehow I make it that way), and the result of my soothing persuasion is that my shit goes down the toilet hole of its own volition, like a trained snake, without having to be flushed. PARAGRAPH NOW THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS IN DIRECT CONTRAST TO THE DREAM OF THE NIGHT BEFORE (THE RUNAWAY BOAT - SEE LAST BLOG). This is total control. And the nice thing about my head is that both dreams have happy endings. I won't list all the other dreams, only the one before waking, which had my mother, who had a knack for drawing, but with eight children, no time to pursue her talent, - she was happily working on a painting in the kitchen - a black and red oeuvre. Which puts me in mind of Stendhal's famous book, "Le Rouge et Le Noir", which I read in university. It also reminds me of Jacques Brel's reference to 'le rouge et le noir' getting married in his heart-rending song "Ne me Quitte pas", which means "Don't leave me", - a beautiful reprise of the pleas of my self-directed faeces, - a circle. PARAGRAPH It seems everything is as it should be, in spite of my current tendency to hand-wringing and worry about "What now?", and "Whither go I?", as my last gig fades into the past, and another year of self-directed life (including the shit) looms before me. "Steady on," say my dreams. "All is possible. Ride the mighty steed". And so I will begin today with some studio recording, thanks to the financial help of the Haliburton Folk Society, and to my talented and stalwart friends - all of them caught up in the crazy dream of music, music, music.

crazy dreams

I have a song with that title - a very good one - (it's on the CD "Up the Highway", available at Indiepool.com, if you want to buy it) But the reason I mention it is my very crazy dreams of last night, which keep coming back to me, and saying, among other things, "Write us down, Zoe). PARAGRAPH OK, there must be a message for me, which will reveal itself over time, or maybe even as a write, which does happen sometimes.... PARAGRAPH So, there I was, dreaming, when all of a sudden the huge boat gets loose on the river and starts going wildly downstream, totally beyond my control. How the hell; what the hell, I think - but there's nothing I can do. How relieving to see that the vessel somehow turns into the driveway of our old family home, and crashes and stops, but without hurting the huge stallion that is in there. Nice horsey. And aside from the wrecked boat, tutto bene, which is to say, everything's just hunky dory. PARAGRAPH So, mein doctor, vat do you sink of all zat?

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

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.