'sall about me...

I cannot tell you what it is like to watch, helpless, as a neighbour family's entire lives go -- literally -- up in flames.

I tried to help as much as I could, but there was nothing I could do except stand back and offer what assistance I was able to.  I took photos because I knew I'd have to bring my own kids past this horror and that they'd have heard and seen things from the school, and be frightened.  They were.  My youngest had been crying and most of the kids thought it was their house on fire.  So I brought my camera with me and showed them one of the photos, telling them that they were safe and to be prepared for what they were going to see.  They were relieved but still very tense, and when we got to the house I showed them how the firemen (and women!) were keeping track of who was where, how they put on their oxygen tanks, how they checked for hot spots, and why they were pulling down bricks and poking things with long poles.  There were hundreds of people out watching and I met quite a few people, including one fireman's wife (who totally understands my thing for guys in uniform) named Beth.  She answered a lot of my own questions about what they were doing, and we talked about my fears that someone would get killed going in there at night (they have a night patrol person to stay).

There was at least one person in the house, and all got out safely. They all lost everything.  It's such a tragedy, but they still have each other... as unkind as it may seem to say it, the house and treasured things they lost are nothing compared to what it would be like to lose one of their loved ones.

The whole community has tried to come together and help out, I know they have family and many friends in the area who are doing all they can for them as well.  If you have any suggestions of what I can do (my neighbours have made me the contact person for them, because I am friends with the gal who took them in while all this was happening), please let me know.

And while I've got your ear, please say a little thank you for the rescue workers and volunteers who put their lives in danger for us.  They are true heroes, no two ways about it.  Hug your family and thank whatever powers that be that they are safe.

You already know that I'll have a lot to say about the whole experience, but for now (because I'm desperate for some sleep) I thought I'd share this photo from fourth row at last night's Police concert:

Yes, Stewart, that green blur you saw was me.  Thank you for pointing at the flag, and especially for the big smiles and eye contact.  Thank you for the opportunity to meet such incredible people.  Thank you, Kellie, for letting me be a part of this crazy Kryptonite history.

Duchess: Mum, can you find me that book that's written in Haiku and is about spring?
Me: Uhhh... we don't even have one of those.
Duchess: Oh.

I am almost sure she expected me to write that book for her, tonight.

Remember way back in December, when I was getting rather romantic (although still confused) about the appearance of ladybugs in the middle of winter?  I got a ton of letters telling me that ladybugs are a symbol of "good luck", which made me happy, even without having any major incidences to prove those old wives right.

So I began to find ladybug items, like magnets and enameled pendants for necklaces.  Queen of Fractal Beauty sent me a note that she wanted to send me a ladybugg'd quilted postcard, which thrilled me, and then she said she loved all the songs I'd posted (skim through here) and that is always a big heart-filler right there.  When I mentioned this to one of my friends she told me it was like getting "your own green flag of sorts!" (double thrilling to even THINK of!) and I've gotta say that personal flag or not, I am quite happy to keep writing music if people like the songs enough send me quilts.

Anyway, last week I'd been walking around the house and singing "Bed's Too Big" and "Forever Live and Die" in a very melancholy voice.  My husband had been in Vegas, so I was doing the single-parent thing, and I got a lot done but it was boring and a bit lonely not having my best bud in the house.  Especially after seeing him beat the crap out of that drum kit the night before he left!  He was awesome!  So I decided to get out and tour around in the car, and I hit the post office on the way back.

QoFB's absolutely gorgeous quilted postcard was waiting for me.

Isn't it awesome?  :)  How cool is THIS!  Note the wee ladybug on the front, and the adorable doodle of herself on the back!  I LOVE this!  And the forget-me-not flowers in the front fabric have a special place in my heart :)  I wish I had photos to show you of the big grin I wore for the next three days!  I can assure you there were no more melancholy songs since then.

Thank you so much, B. :)  What an awesome artist you are.  You did incredible work and I'm so glad you enjoyed the songs.  I've put the wee quilt in the place of honour in my office (right beside my book!) so that I can see it every day.  xo ~M.

Okay.  I'm about 3 blog posts behind, because I've written them all in my head but had no time to get in here and make them real.  Too many things going on right now to even explain why.

But I'm sitting here in my office with a package to my left, containing the absolute best thing that could ever have been expedited to me (aside from... maybe... a big cheque.  Oh, and when my book was published.  That was pretty damn cool to receive).

After a bit of a frenzied journey, I now have in my temporary possession... THE GREEN FLAG. 

I am, justifiably, freaking out just a wee bit.

In fact I can't bring myself to open up the envelope right now.  Globs and globs of responsibility go with this little icon, and I'm overwhelmed with what it represents, which interferes with the other crap that's overwhelming me right now.

Gong bless Ms. Kellie.  She's a Goddess of the Green, Mistress of Mission Control, and Blessed Virgin of Kryptonite all rolled into one.  I want to take her out for drinks.  Many drinks.

Thank you, K :)

And so begins the flag's next Big Adventure.  But touch it without permission and I'll be forced to kill you.

Forty is not the new twenty.  It is not even the new thirty.  Forty is forty, and I've gotta say... you can still rock your ass off no matter how old you get.

King Kong Girio had his big birthday bash last night, playing with the Portable Men -- their first gig together -- and The Clementones.  He still had the beard.  And the place was packed last night, with fans that were young enough to be my kids (had I been knocked up in my early teens, but still) and some old enough to be my parents.  Mitch is the guy.  And I saw so many old friends, and met a few new ones, that once again I owe him big time.

Here are a few photos, taken in and out of a Bud haze (hey... beer is cheaper than a chocolate martini!  And it's what Yvonne was sipping, so who was I to argue?).  Info will be in the individual photos, if you are of the more curious sort.

In a few hours, I'm off to see my husband Mike and his band at a gig in the Big City.  I'm so excited.  A whole bunch of us are going to be at the show... I hope they can fit us all in the venue.  Tonight is also Mitch's birthday, a landmark one, and he's also singing tonight.  If they play one of the songs I recorded, I'm going to jump up on stage and do the backup vocals.  Don't tell him or he'll appoint a security guard to me.  Ha!

My husband is a drummer.  A tall, blond, gangly, talented drummer.  How much do you want to bet I'm going to get pointed at tonight?  :)

Pictures after the show... and SOOO much more news and photos to share.

Hope you all have a great Saturday night!

My Dad is a published photographer, and a few days ago he had a couple of his latest ones published in the Toronto Star.  He took them with his new digital SLR camera, and due to the amount of people interested in splashing his pixels around their publications, he's obviously got quite a talent for using it.

So not only is my girls' Papa famous, now their Nanny's hands are famous, too :)

There is something so interesting, so spooky, so absolutely chilling about this audio file that I keep returning to it day after day, again and again.

You might have read the story about audio historians who discovered a "phonautogram" of a woman singing, which predates the first known recorded human voice by almost 20 years and recorded sound by almost 30.  The singing was recorded on a device created by Parisian inventor Edouard-Leon Scott de Martinville called a phonautograph, which created visual recordings of sound waves.  Scott never intended for his recordings to be played back, though... he wanted to be able to study an image of what sound looked like.

Recorded using a moving needle, the phonoautograph etched sound waves on paper coated with soot from an oil lamp.  It's these etchings that you hear re-created through the work of audio scientists and engineers.  "When I first heard the recording as you hear it ... it was magical, so ethereal," said [audio historian David] Giovannoni. "The fact is it's recorded in smoke. The voice is coming out from behind this screen of aural smoke."

And maybe that's why I keep returning to it, playing it, listening to this ghostly voice sing to me in barely understandable French.  It's the 'aural smoke' that's so fascinating, so incredibly haunting, that I almost feel like I can learn its secrets if I just listen to it one more time. 

Links:
Experts find oldest voice recording - MSNBC
FirstSounds.org press release and information
About the sound recording