While technically it is still autumn (winter doesn't officially begin for another few weeks), outside looks nothing like fall. As usual I've been a wee bit depressed by this early start to winter. The sun disappears so quickly and wreaks havoc on my internal clock.


However, as tempting as hibernation is this time of year there are plenty of things to do to stay busy and stay warm. And while winter is not exactly my season of preference, I can still manage to find a few reminders of what is beautiful about these colder months.

A post for no reason other than I have a great appreciation of black and white stripes

One of my backup external hard drives crashed and I lost two years worth of photo archives. I've attempted one option of data recovery but have had no success. It's not the end of the world, but it makes me a little bit sad to think of all the photos that are just gone now. I have copies of some of the files, some are backed up on flickr, some are on DVD, some are stored on other drives... but nothing close to the amount that are just gone.

But here's to the photos that have disappeared. Photos of trips to other cities, photos of my old apartment, photos of crazy photo excursions and those random moments when I decided it was the right opportunity to take a picture.

We're going to try to take the drive to a data recovery service, but I'm pretty sure everything is just gone. Even though a tiny bit of me hopes that we might recover some of the data, I'm trying to bid them farewell.

Here's a retrospective from 2009, January-December. The photos of 2010 are just a little too fresh for me to tearfully recognize that they're gone.



 
 
 
 
 
 

Sometimes my work provides me with some unexpected photographic opportunities. On Friday I was asked to photograph a volunteer appreciation event that was taking place at the stadium prior to one of the home games of the local football team, the poorly named Edmonton Eskimos. I readily admit to having zero interest in this type of football, and even when I've won tickets in the past, I've chosen not to go (although I might have been convinced otherwise if Canadian football involved tailgate parties). I have, however, been sort of keen of being able to photograph inside the football stadium, if only to satisfy my addiction to taking pictures of empty seats. And satisfy that addiction I did. The volunteer event started well in advance of game time and I was free to wander around the relatively empty stadium in between the official program of the volunteer event and the game start time.



It had been raining just as we arrived at the stadium, so when I got my first glimpse of the empty seats, they were still covered in rain. A few players were on the field warming up and from my spot in the stands I got to watch as they tossed the ball back and forth and practiced running the length of the field. A few people headed towards their seats, but the majority held back and waited for the sun to dry what remained of the short rain storm.





Eventually the game began, and the referees, cheerleaders and players made their way out on the field. The stadium was by no means full, but as I was leaving (couldn't stay for the actual game), there were still throngs of people making their way to the stadium from the LRT.







It was a rather enormous spectacle. I haven't gone to any organized sporting event of that scale in a long time, so I rather enjoyed the novelty of the concession and it's stacks of hotdogs and hamburgers wrapped tightly in tinfoil. I didn't even mind the smell of spilled beer or the masses of rowdy and obnoxious fans. I suppose now after going to a football game I might as well give in and see a hockey game. Just one, so the experience can be equally novel.

Old Hollywood musicals are a guilty pleasure of mine. I don't love all old musicals (some are just too campy and ridiculous to be any good), but even when I think they aren't any good I still enjoy watching them. However, even with the abundance of Glee fans out there, I don't know too many people who share quite the same level of enthusiasm for this particular genre. When I was younger it was all about the songs and the dancing (some of it, I usually hated when there was a ten minute ballet tossed in the mix), but these days I have more of an appreciation of the colours. I'm not alone in my love of the costuming, set design, lighting... even apartmenttherapy commented on it recently. Not every musical pays quite the same attention to detail (which is painfully obvious in some cases), but the ones that do (An American in Paris, My Fair Lady), do it so well that I'm left in awe.


Throughout the year on Monday nights, the Edmonton Film Society screens old Hollywood classics at the Royal Alberta Museum. They run four series during the year, each consisting of eight movies organized under a particular theme. Much to my delight his summer's theme happened to be Gotta Sing! Gotta Dance! Of course, I was either busy or just didn't attend the first six in the series, but when lucky number seven came along I made a date with Elize to check out "On Moonlight Bay" with the consistently perky Doris Day and Gordon MacRae. Not exactly my first choice of musical, since I don't really care too much for Doris Day musicals to me she will always be an actress who also sings, but that's because I was spoiled by seeing her first in Pillow Talk with Rock Hudson. But, like I said, even when I don't really think a musical is very good I still get some level of enjoyment out of it, so off we went.


I'll admit that I was a little surprised to see quite as big of an age discrepancy as there was in the audience. The average age had to have been at least 70. I felt positively juvenile in a room full of spritely senior citizens. But then I pulled out my knitting and balance was restored.


Before the movie we were treated to a short introduction from one of the members of the Edmonton Film Society, who gave a little background to the movie made up of funny little tidbits pieced from various wikipedia entries and assorted trivia. They acknowledged that the film was a very thinly veiled rip-off of Meet Me in St. Louis, a far superior film in all respects. The plot was predictable, there wasn't enough singing, but it was still funny. It was sort of surreal to watch a musical on the big screen. You gain a new appreciation for the films when you get a chance to sit with that many people and laugh at the absolute ridiculous of some of the scenes. The audience found some of the situational comedy in this film were particularly uproarious, especially anything involving the devilish younger brother who fabricated a story of an alcoholic and abusive father in order to get out of being caught asleep in class. Only in this era of musical, where the story and characters are so innocent, are we able to laugh at such broad humour without it having to be too dark.


Tomorrow night they're screening The Music Man (Robert Preston, Shirley Jones and a very very young Ron Howard). If I'm done the layout work for the freelance project I'm working on with Elize, we are going to try to celebrate with another evening at the museum. I hope we do, because I love The Music Man. It would be such a big finish to the film society's summer series of singing and dancing.

Since I started freelancing my working hours are completely unpredictable. That's entirely my fault, since I'm the one who decides that I will work later in the evening on a particular project. Of course this work schedule sort of disrupts my cooking schedule and this year, this summer in particular, I've been rather bad at cooking at home. *Slap on the wrist. My bad habits become even more regrettable when I finally do prepare a meal at home. It's so inexpensive and so easy. I don't know what the problem is. Suffice it to say, I leap at the opportunity to make an occasion out of home cooking, like when the gentleman suggested the other night that we make dinner together and eat a late night al fresco meal at our top-secret river valley lookout.

Eating late is tough for me. I start to get cranky and mopey the later in the evening it is till suppertime. Last night we didn't pick up our last few ingredients until close to 8pm, so you can imagine how pleasant I must have been. Understand of course that I grew up eating supper really early. I haven't quite broken the habit and since my first bout of aenemia I sort of let my cantankerous side roam free when the blood sugar levels drop. When I'm hungry I can be rather dramatic. I clutch my stomach and groan loudly. I plop myself down on the couch or daybed and let out exasperated sighs. I curl up by the window, staring outside and whimper rather pathetically (as pictured in the photo above). I'm a real treat. Most of the time I don't get any sympathy or I get a granola bar thrown at me (which will soothe the savage beast for a short period of time). Luckily, the gentleman was in a patient and understanding mood and encouraged me to quit my sulking and enjoy the fabulous view of the river valley sunset and moonrise. Even in my most sullen state I couldn't resist the charm of the High Level Bridge in the evening light.


It was really nice. We sat on the balcony for a bit and watched the trains pass by while the sun disappeared. We waited while the full moon rose up from behind one of the apartment buildings in the distance before we went back inside to cook dinner.




I didn't take any photos of our food prep, but we didn't make anything too fancy. Just a simple pasta dish... spaghettini with roasted tomatoes, green beans, ricotta and pine nuts which we paired with a glass or two of white wine. We ate back out on the balcony lit by the moonlight. My idea of an ideal summer evening.



All that was missing was the hammock on which to have a post-dinner nap.

I'm going to write a day by day breakdown of my visit to San Francisco, but first, here's a little summary of my evening out at the Hotel MacDonald for another behind-the-scenes tour organized by ArtsScene Edmonton.

The gentleman is a bit of a hotel connoisseur (on account of his good breeding and his work travel schedule... anyone who has had to do some business traveling in the past knows the value of a good hotel) so as a little present I bought us both tickets, so that we could take the tour and learn a little of the history of this Edmonton landmark while fraternizing with the young professional crowd on the Hotel Mac patio. Unfortunately, on the day of the party Edmonton was enveloped in smoke from British Columbia forest fires. As a result socialization sur le patio were cut short by the horrid air quality. Instead, the majority of the activity took place inside the Wedgwood Room. A few of us did venture outside briefly for a glimpse of the river valley that looking alternatively romantic and apocalyptic in the smoky haze.

Cue the music...


behind the scenes at the fairmont

Unfortunately there was nothing really romantic about the air quality. Throughout the day smoke had seeped inside buildings leaving people smelling more than slightly reminiscent of the backwoods, eyes reddened and voices hoarse from the particulate matter in the air. Sort of a hilarious lead up to an evening of networking in one of Edmonton's classiest hotels.



Other than the few minutes that I spent on the patio admiring the silhouette of the river valley, the rest of the evening was spent inside in the prettily detailed Wedgwood Room (inspired by the intricate work on Wedgwood china) snacking on the assortment of hors d'oeuvres and savouring our beverage of choice (savouring as the drinks were expensive. I heard more than a few discontented rumblings that a free drink was not included in the ticket price of this event).



I had worked later at the office than usual and as a result I didn't get a chance to go home in between work and the event. Of course I was carrying my laptop and camera equipment, but the coat check was a bit too open for my taste so I had the annoyance of carting around a heavy bag for the entire night (or rather whining for the gentleman to carry it for me, which he did). I guess I sort of expected there to be spots to sit. Ordinarily having to stand around wouldn't have been a problem, except my feet were absolutely killing me following the walking marathon that was my trip to San Francisco. Poor footwear choice on my part. I hadn't taken into consideration the amount of walking I would be doing during the day running from meeting to meeting, nor did I consider the different weight distribution from carrying my belongings in my pannier (so classy) versus a shoulder bag, nor did I think about the inevitable end-of-day foot swelling (always go shoe shopping at the end of the day). I probably could have avoided a lot of trouble if I had just thought to shove a pair of flats in my bag.



So, boring trivialities of my carrying too much and making poor end of day footwear choices aside (typical problems for me), there was some animated conversation with friends and a few assorted strangers while we all waited anxiously for our designated tour of the hotel to begin.




Our tour groups were large and fairly boisterous, which made it difficult to hear our guides. They gave us some general history of the building, with a few anecdotes about the hotel ghost and celebrity visits to the hotel.





The tour took us through the various spaces of the hotel, starting with the empire ballroom, the drawing room (once ladies only), the jasper room (for the gents), then upstairs to one of the suites on the 8th floor (reclaimed attic space), followed by a wander through the confederation lounge to the outdoor patio. I had originally been scheduled to go on one of the first set of tours, but the gentleman was running late so I swapped our spot for one of the later groups. It was a wise decision. It was dusk by the time we had finished checking out the suite. Wade had wandered down the hallway while we waited for the elevator to head downstairs and discovered a window that overlooked one of rooftop spires. You could just make out some of the lights from across the river. The view from the patio was equally scenic. It was a real shame that the smoke had prevented us from really taking advantage of the space. If only it had been misty rather than smoky.





We left shortly after the tour (and our little bonus tour where we got to see the staff-only areas), but I heard that the party (and after party) continued into the night. I took my tired feet home.