February 22, 2012

In praise

February 22, 2012

Today I have spent lots of time thinking about my husband with great fondness (no, those people aren't us, though the pine trees do remind me of him). I don't want to get too poetical about him lest some of you svelte ladies cast your gimlet eye his way, but I'm feeling awfully appreciative. He's so kind. I also love how he tries to wind me up over everything, like how I leave the kitchen light on for the cat to eat by. We should move to England so he could find more people to appreciate his humour. He never reads my blog (he just looks at the pictures, hardyhar), so he'll never read my lovelorn phrases. I felt like writing some down, anyway. I hope these 6.5 or so years portend a similar future.

February 17, 2012

Commutorius the Magnificient

February 16-17, 2012
A wizard rode the bus, and I drew his picture. Never seen an older man with one of those vertical under-lip mustaches before. 

Happy Family Day weekend, Ontario friends. 

February 16, 2012

No dancing here, move along now

February 14-16, 2012
At a dance performance at the National Arts Centre last night, I was struck by how stiff and unwieldy I felt watching the young dancers. It was modern dance, with much flexibility and athleticism. 

My large, pregnant body, which developed a horrid stitch in its side after intermission, seemed such a big lump in comparison.

I didn't feel bad about myself, just, I felt basically the opposite of anything light, lovely and leaping around in the air. I can't even walk briskly for a 2 blocks. I mean, I can walk briskly for one block.


But tonight I'm thinking, meh. My body is doing something pretty cool, too.
 

February 13, 2012


February 12, 2012

Child play

Ada -- February 12, 2012
The whole world in my living room. I finally know what you were on about, Ms. Dickinson.

February 10, 2012

Anticipating butter

February 7-10, 2012

This woman sat across from me as the bus tip-toed along Scott Street in the aftermath of Wednesday's bus crash. Yes, you can baldly draw someone's portrait from three feet away if they're reading from their mobile device. I love smartphones <grin>

I will now go and eat my pregnant-lady bedtime snack. Tonight's happens to be an almond chocolate croissant from The French Baker on Murray Street. I plan to spend the next several minutes being quite content. Hope you are having a good night. TGIF.

February 6, 2012

Getting sappy about the whole drawing thing

January 3-6, 2012

January 6, 2012
Ah, drawing. It is so soothing. Art is so tender and pliable (you know, when it's not being frustrating and reticent). It's whatever you need it to be. Therapy, outlet, comfort. Thank you, art. You are a good friend to me.

February 2, 2012

Influenzed

February 1, 2012

February 1, 2012

Day 7 of Ada's bout of flu. Very little drawing getting done, so just some doodles for this week. More to blame, though, are the extremely crowded busses of Route #95.

Here's a little citizen-activist idea for you:
1. Take a stealthy iPhone photo of your bus interior everyday
2. Blur out the passengers' faces using Gimp or Photoshop, etc.
3. Upload the photos daily to a blog that has an appropriate name, like, I don't know, "Trampled on Transpo" or "My Crushing Commute"
4. Tweet your posts everyday to some media people, say, Allan Neal or Hallie Cotnam, and to OC Transpo, until someone features you or something changes.

Seriously. What is going on with the #95? It's a nightmare.

Public transit isn't supposed to be like this, is it? You know, the belly of the guy standing in front of me almost touching my face while I sit, 7 months pregnant and struggling to breathe, in the priority seat I have to beg for every day? Or, the busses going by that won't even open their front doors because they're so packed? Last night it took 18 minutes of waiting at a downtown Transitway stop for me to get onto a bus. This isn't unusual, even though they're supposed to come every 4 minutes.


Someone, please, fix this. I love public transit. I can't afford to park a car downtown every day, or, you know, buy another one and insure it. Besides, I hate rush hour driving. I'm normally the last person who chimes in on "I hate OC Transpo" conversations. I actually like taking busses.