See if you can find Cory…
Archive for September, 2008|Monthly archive page
On Saturday night, Melle and I met up with Melissa for some yummy Indian food at Masala Bay. Melissa is a new resident to our area, so I guess we were the Welcome Wagon, though we didn’t have the goods that Pearl had.
Melissa is a Joss fan and all-around good pirate.
JL is making progress – less of the sick and more activity. He’s still on meds and still not at full speed, but I’m hopeful that things will continue to improve. He’s still eating the most expensive cat food on the planet like it’s crack brownies.
Lots of meetings this week, so I’m steeling myself for all charm all the time. Then that will be followed by more house shenanigans next weekend, when we are doing the roof. Imported talent from Niagara is arriving on Friday night. My role is chief cleaner-upper, food-fetcher and shingle carrier. I will have buff shoulders.
I was watching a nature program on TVO the other night and the scientist (reptile guy, I think) was showing off some little lizards in a semi-desert area of California – the top guy lizard was the one who had the biggest pile of rocks because they get more sun, making his body temp warmer, and the ladies like that. Heat-sensitive cameras showed how the lizard body temperature rose to be the same as the surrounding rocks.
All of that was pretty interesting, but scientist-reptile guy wanted to do an experiment to really see if it was the riches or the guy that the ladies were after (that age-old nut), so he dismantled the top guy’s pile of rocks and gave it to a loser-guy’s pile. Within minutes, the ladies were all climbing around with loser-guy, who lost no time in trying to inseminate anything that moved in his new rock palace.
But that got me to thinking – I mean, did I just witness a pivotal evolutionary burp? Think about it. A whole system designed for survival of the fittest. Top guy has used his superior strength and rock-picking abilities to fend off the losers and keep them from having the girls. Then essentially deus ex machina arrives and, in an instant, the gene chain has switched over to a line that is inferior of strength and tenacity. And then what if loser guy has some gentic throwback, like an extra toe or something, and now there’ll beÂ whole generation of lizards who show off their extra toes and refuse to consort with those inferior ones that don’t have the extra toe.
Then an archeologist in 2150 will come along and write a thesis on how environmental factors (probably global warming) caused this one species of little lizards in a semi-desert region in California to have extra toes.
that is evil.
Unfortunately, JL isn’t out of the woods yet. He is still getting sick at least once a day and now he’s on an additional medication. The weird thing is that it’s like clockwork at 10pm every night, which leads us to believe it’s maybe an insulin problem.
Logical thing is to check his blood sugar levels around that time, but I really suck at that. So last weekend his vet came on a Saturday night to check it for me. You heard me. A house call on a Saturday night. My Dad says he thinks he should get himself a vet – much better care time and you don’t have to wait for test results. Either way, that makes her a good pirate.
I was supposed to be at a diva cottage weekend but I wasn’t able to go because of watching the beast. And it sounds like I missed out on some great dirty dish, and a whole bunch of cheese.
Anyway, since he’s still having problems, I picked up the kit at the vet’s today and I’m happy to report that I was able to get enough blood to get a reading. It’s just the idea of poking him in the ear with a little sharp needle that I don’t do so well with. And I have to do it again around 10 tonight.
Hoping the new medication works. Sigh.
Way back in 2007, Maggie was talking about ideas for episodic television that would allow for interesting characters and engagements, so I suggested pest control, and we both liked that idea very much. As she said, think of all of possibilities!
Well. I give you Verminators. On Discovery, no less. Sure, it’s reality television but same principles apply – killing cockroaches and talking to freaky hippies who try to talk their Norway rats into leaving their home voluntarily.
A huge slice of California life with just enough gross-out-ed-ness to keep it interesting. I watched it at least part of the time from between my fingers just like when I’m watching How Clean Is Your House (the original one – that new Canadian version with Kim and her little flamboyant sidekick just doesn’t do it for me). Then I had an incredible urge to scrub things with a toothbrush.
Anyway. You heard it hear. My idea first.
Went to see GB Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra at the Stratford Festival on Wednesday night, and it was delightful. Shaw’s take on the story is part farce, part drama and very funny. There are easy lines to be drawn from the relationship in this play between Caesar and Cleopatra and the later, some would say more mature relationship, between Eliza and Higgens.
Christopher Plummer returns to the festival as Caesar, whom he plays with an intimacy and warmth. He had people hanging on his words and laughing and there were some women who seemed ready to storm the stage or throw panties at the end (though I think they were hoping he’d take them away into the mountains with him and his singing children). It was a thrill to see him in person – I wanted to have a scotch with him.
As an extra treat, Peter Donaldson was also in the cast – one of my Stratford favorites – and as Caesar’s friend and “son”, he was a great foil to Plummer. There seemed to be a genuine comradery between the two in their scenes together.
Some of the biggest laughs, though, were reserved for Steven Sutcliffe as Brittanus – a “British barbarian” captured by Caesar who has now become his pet fop. Sutcliffe plays him with effeminate and condescending glee, and there were times when the audience was laughing so hard that we missed a few lines of dialogue.
And finally, I think there’s a real discovery in Nikki M. James. From the play notes, it looks like Director Des McAnuff knew her from a production of The Wiz that he directed in San Diego. When the play opens, Caesar finds a headstrong and diva-child of 16. James pulls off a mix of sensuality, precocity and budding imperiousness from there to the end of the play. And for someone who seems still new to the stage, her delivery is quite good. No shrieky pomposity for her. Plus the damn girl is beautiful.
There weren’t really any weak links in the main characters – , but there were a few secondary characters who are of the “yell and spit on the stage” variety. Even still, they didn’t take away from the entertainment value.
The direction was superb, as was the set. McAnuff played up the farce well, and moved with a light touch on the more dramatic scenes. (And there’s some naked people. You should have heard the blue hairs tittering over that.) The sets managed to convey the grandeur of a palace and even a huge ship – kudos to Robert Brill. One of the coolest effects was a human one though. They had actors dressed as egyptian statues of the gods and they came out on the stage and assumed poses and stayed frozen like that. As the play opened, there was a statue center stage – no one realized it was a person until he disappeared through the floor and made a gesture (got spontaneous applause for that).
Anyway, this is the first Stratford review from me in a long time that is pretty much only positive – there still some time to buy tickets, and I’d totally recommend it.
The beast came home last night-and threw up twice later on, including one deposit into the pocket of my overnight bag that I crazily left on the floor. I called the vet’s today and we’ve decided to keep her on call over the weekend and cross our fingers that he will be better. So far, no sick, but his food is fueling frat-boy grade gases that are permeating my furniture. He smells like a porta-potty at a meat festival.
I woke up this morning to his customary head-bonking and I had a big smile on my face. Tonight I’m watching him like a hawk. Please don’t puke. Please don’t puke…