This year’s theme around our place for the holidays was “crafty” — one element of which I can’t share until after the 25th, but the other was these ornaments we made for our tiny plastic Christmas tree (this is his sixth Christmas!). I saw an “inspiration” post here while looking up things for another project, and we decided to go for it! Overall, the project was pretty easy… it took a couple of coats of paint to get the colour right (we only had white on hand), but the sharpie kind of dried out pretty quickly on the cardboard/painted surface. Here’s a shot of the first one, which due to the markers later drying out, was the best.
And I also put together a little table display when we had some guests over for Christmas movie night, which included a couple of rocks I picked up from the Lake Huron shore of the Bruce Peninsula, the “Nordic House” vase from Iceland, and our Iittala lantern which was a Christmas gift I found at Mjolk in Toronto (it was the same vase on our table at Dill from our previous trip to Iceland). Personally, I really love the look of the lantern any time of year… as you can see in this photo, it really does amazing things with the light from a simple tea light. Happy Holidays!!!
Detour Cafe in Dundas, Ontario, near Hamilton, Ontario
So when I found myself needing to make a run into the 905, I decided to make things interesting and leave the cocoon and visit a place oft-derided, but these days becoming increasingly “cool.” Hamilton, Ontario. I really like the idea of Hamilton… it’s become a tech start-up haven, as well as an affordable city attracting artists from Toronto. After all, it’s only an hour and change on the Go Train to Hamilton, and less than that if you’re driving. Sure, it’s as gritty as it’s reputation suggests, but for all the rough, there’s a lot of diamonds. So if you’re thinking about finding a little bit of Hamilton for yourself, and you’re not totally sure where to start, here’s the three hotspots to go; the main strip in Dundas, Ontario, James St. North, and Locke Street.
Dundas is just a village to the west of Ham-town, but it houses the Detour Cafe, the roaster’s own storefront, that serves all their coffees, including a pour-over bar, and a lunch menu. James St. North is the city’s burgeoning arts strip, with ner-do-wells and dive bars pocked by art galleries and hipster bars. Two shops of note include Mixed Media and White Elephant; the first an arts supply store with lots of other goods, and the other a vintage store with it’s own healthy stock of local craftery. Finally, Locke St is the more family-friendly strip of touristy stores that reminds me of the Beaches strip in Toronto. However, the strip also hosts the restaurant’s finest eatery: The Earth to Table: Bread Bar. I had a delicious pizza there during my stop-in, but the menu was robust with plenty of offerings. A don’t miss.
While I covered ground during my Hamilton stop, I still didn’t see everything the city had to offer: I didn’t drop by a single waterfall, and I didn’t have time to see the Art Gallery or Farmer’s Market. I also would love to visit Hamilton on the 2nd Friday of the month when they do a big art walk in the city.
Feel free to check out my photos of the city here, and please drop any other Hamilton recommendations in the comments! Also, thanks to Roz and the folks at #HolaHamOnt for the last-minute tips! Check out their live show Friday nights on U-Stream for what’s going on in Ham-town.
Overall, I’m a pretty private/introverted kind of guy, so I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with showing, talking about, and explaining my tattoos. I get the irony that I’m fine with getting “statement” body modification filled with symbolism and text, but uneasy about verbalizing “WHAT IT MEANS.” I think it’s because I usually feel caught off guard when people ask, and when I’m unprepared, I’m not ready to make that super cool, super deep explanation which I think is the kind of answer people are looking for.
In some ways, explaining tattoos is kind of like analyzing song lyrics when they are examined on their own, away from the music: it sounds dumb, or cliched, unmoving and trite. Of course, add melody to lyrics, and the meanings grow and deepen…
So with that said, here goes.
Tattoo #4: The circle drawings by Matt Durant
The newest tattoo is located on my right fore-arm, underneath my early Tattoo #2, “By the Grace of God I am what I am.” It was designed by local Toronto painter Matt Durant, whose work I’ve seen exhibited in a few east end hangouts, and I’ve grown to really love. I reached out to Matt, asking if he would design something for me, and he graciously agreed, and provided me with the artwork. I’ve been “living with” the artwork for a while, and finally the right time opened up to do it. I returned to Adrenaline on Queen Street West in Toronto, after making a few modifications to the design at their request, in order to make it more “tattoo” friendly. I also had to go to one of the best guys in the shop, as most of the artists seemed to be intimidated by doing circles. However, I was expertly drawn on by “Pido” from Bogata, and the work turned out great.
So what does it mean? Simply, I find myself identifying with the artwork: It’s simple, unique, messy and vibrant. As I continue my own self discovery, I found identity in the artwork, and it serves as a reflective reminder of who I think I am, and the kind of person I want to continue to be. It also goes with the quote from scripture, in that it reminds me that whatever my identity is, it is a purposeful identity, even if I’m not exactly sure why.
Sure, I haven’t written yet about the latest artwork I’ve had punched into my skin, but I’ve already decided on my next. Not exactly sure where it will go yet, but I’m already pretty excited! I’ll probably get somebody to do a (slightly) better drawing job. Or maybe not.
With a quick look at our bustling city, you’d think that the only reason we have a Friday off in April is to much on delicious, delicious chocolate and enjoy the spare few rays of sunshine in a rainy month. For those of us that grew up in the country, it’s the weekend everyone got together to hunt for plastic eggs hidden around the yard. In my family’s house, it was even a pseudo-Christmas morning with lots of Easter presents, with a chocolate and jelly bean hunt around the house.
But as I’ve gotten older, and my desire to get on my hands and knees to search for treats (I can buy chocolate anytime I want now! And I have!) has lessened, I’ve grown to see Easter as the spiritual holiday it was always intended to be. Nearly 15 years I dedicated myself to be a follower of Christ, through all it’s ups and downs, and in the course of my spiritual journey, I’ve learned to see Easter is the truest of all Christian religious days, where the faith is born and celebrated.
It’s the fulfillment of Jesus Christ, God’s only child, fused with the Holy Spirit, and the journey that he had to take in order to reconcile every human being with their maker.
Easter weekend begins with today, Good Friday, when we commemorate “the passion,” or the day that Jesus was betrayed, denied, beaten and crucified, left to hang in the air until all life left his body. And Jesus knew all this (referring to himself in the third person as the “Son of Man” in the following):
Jesus, now well on the way up to Jerusalem, took the Twelve off to the side of the road and said, “Listen to me carefully. We are on our way up to Jerusalem. When we get there, the Son of Man will be betrayed to the religious leaders and scholars. They will sentence him to death. They will then hand him over to the Romans for mockery and torture and crucifixion. On the third day he will be raised up alive.” (Matthew 20: 17-19)
Once Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, he stirred up controversy, and drew ire from both the local religious and government authorities (If you want to read more about these, check out Matthew chapters 20-26 or so). During the “Last Supper,” Jesus revealed that he knew he was betrayed by one of his closest followers (disciples), Judas. This was all going down in the final days before the Jewish holiday, Passover.
Passover commemorates the story of the Exodus, when God freed his people from slavery in Egypt. This is the story of the ten plagues, the last of which was the killing of every first born son, except for those of the Hebrews, who were instructed to mark their doors with the blood of a spring lamb. When they did, God’s spirit “passed over” their homes, and their first born sons were spared. Following the plague, the slaves were set free.
(It wasn’t all easy going for them, they ended up wandering the desert for generations following their escape).
Passover is important to the celebration of Easter because this is the promise that Jesus came to fulfill. The blood of lambs and the following of laws etched in stone were never enough for us to reunite with our God — our sacrifices were always tainted, in-genuine, and we flat out failed in following the commands God gave us.
Jesus, as God’s holy and perfect son, is the passover lamb for all humanity. He is God’s own first born and only son, and with his death, he gives us our own freedom from the slavery of sin.
The soldiers assigned to the governor took Jesus into the governor’s palace and got the entire brigade together for some fun. They stripped him and dressed him in a red toga. They plaited a crown from branches of a thornbush and set it on his head. They put a stick in his right hand for a scepter. Then they knelt before him in mocking reverence: “Bravo, King of the Jews!” they said. “Bravo!” Then they spit on him and hit him on the head with the stick. When they had had their fun, they took off the toga and put his own clothes back on him. Then they proceeded out to the crucifixion.
Along the way they came on a man from Cyrene named Simon and made him carry Jesus’ cross. Arriving at Golgotha, the place they call “Skull Hill,” they offered him a mild painkiller (a mixture of wine and myrrh), but when he tasted it he wouldn’t drink it.
After they had finished nailing him to the cross and were waiting for him to die, they whiled away the time by throwing dice for his clothes. Above his head they had posted the criminal charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews. Along with him, they also crucified two criminals, one to his right, the other to his left. People passing along the road jeered, shaking their heads in mock lament: “You bragged that you could tear down the Temple and then rebuild it in three days—so show us your stuff! Save yourself! If you’re really God’s Son, come down from that cross!”
The high priests, along with the religion scholars and leaders, were right there mixing it up with the rest of them, having a great time poking fun at him: “He saved others—he can’t save himself! King of Israel, is he? Then let him get down from that cross. We’ll all become believers then! He was so sure of God—well, let him rescue his ‘Son’ now—if he wants him! He did claim to be God’s Son, didn’t he?” Even the two criminals crucified next to him joined in the mockery.
From noon to three, the whole earth was dark. Around mid-afternoon Jesus groaned out of the depths, crying loudly, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”
Some bystanders who heard him said, “He’s calling for Elijah.” One of them ran and got a sponge soaked in sour wine and lifted it on a stick so he could drink. The others joked, “Don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s see if Elijah comes and saves him.”
But Jesus, again crying out loudly, breathed his last.
At that moment, the Temple curtain was ripped in two, top to bottom. There was an earthquake, and rocks were split in pieces. What’s more, tombs were opened up, and many bodies of believers asleep in their graves were raised. (After Jesus’ resurrection, they left the tombs, entered the holy city, and appeared to many.)
The captain of the guard and those with him, when they saw the earthquake and everything else that was happening, were scared to death. They said, “This has to be the Son of God!”
(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 27, v 27-54, from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)
And with his death, it was noted the temple curtain ripped in two: symbolically and literally, this meant that he Holy Place where God was said to reside in their churches, was no longer hidden from us. This was the moment that Jesus became the sacrifice — one where God allowed his own son to be stolen away from him completely. At that moment, God cut off Jesus from his presence, which is why Jesus cries out “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” Jesus at that point began to experience the absolute hell that occurs in our soul when we are totally anguished,depressed and desolute — when we are furthest from the presence of God.
But the story doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot.
Once Jesus had finally died on the cross, his body was taken down, wrapped in blankets, and placed in a tomb. That tomb was then blocked from anyone entering with a giant stone, with a soldier standing guard in front. Mary Magdalene, along with another Mary, sat nearby, grieving for their leader.
After the Sabbath, as the first light of the new week dawned, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to keep vigil at the tomb. Suddenly the earth reeled and rocked under their feet as God’s angel came down from heaven, came right up to where they were standing. He rolled back the stone and then sat on it. Shafts of lightning blazed from him. His garments shimmered snow-white. The guards at the tomb were scared to death. They were so frightened, they couldn’t move.
The angel spoke to the women: “There is nothing to fear here. I know you’re looking for Jesus, the One they nailed to the cross. He is not here. He was raised, just as he said. Come and look at the place where he was placed.
“Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ That’s the message.”
The women, deep in wonder and full of joy, lost no time in leaving the tomb. They ran to tell the disciples. Then Jesus met them, stopping them in their tracks. “Good morning!” he said. They fell to their knees, embraced his feet, and worshiped him. Jesus said, “You’re holding on to me for dear life! Don’t be frightened like that. Go tell my brothers that they are to go to Galilee, and that I’ll meet them there.”
Meanwhile, the guards had scattered, but a few of them went into the city and told the high priests everything that had happened. They called a meeting of the religious leaders and came up with a plan: They took a large sum of money and gave it to the soldiers, bribing them to say, “His disciples came in the night and stole the body while we were sleeping.” They assured them, “If the governor hears about your sleeping on duty, we will make sure you don’t get blamed.” The soldiers took the bribe and did as they were told. That story, cooked up in the Jewish High Council, is still going around.
Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.
Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”
(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 28 from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)
I’m currently in the middle of a press junket here in Hollywood/Beverly Hills, and I have to say that Los Angeles is quite a trip. I’ve never quite seen a city like it, and I haven’t come to a verdict on what I think about it yet either. I keep going back and forth between being in awe, and thinking that the city is just seven Mississaugas just jammed altogether.
So instead of wasting my time ranting about one internet service provider over another (they all suck), I’m instead just going to leave a photo of this mouth-watering platter of charcuterie from the Black Hoof. Yep, it may be a fad, and as a friend of mine often notes, we will totally talk about how obsessed we were in 2010, but if it’s tasty, it’s tasty. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
Note to self: time to get crackin’ on my specialized plate of “Scarborough Charcuterie.” It’s time.
There is truly is nothing better than a good road trip! Sure, I don’t have a car, nor do I particularly like to drive, but hey, I make a half-decent passenger if I do say so myself!
So on a crispy January afternoon, this guy and myself, along with this guy and another guy who doesn’t have a blog, piled into the car drove off to scenic Milton, Ontario (I heard it has a Go Train station) to find out if “Halifax Donair and Pizza” are indeed slinging authentic east-coast donairs.
Handmade with secret ingredients
Despite never actually having been to the east coast, I can’t say I’ve actually had an authentic donair before, except for the ones supplied to me by the authentic east-coasters at the Nova Deli. And from every other donair I’ve had, nothing stacks up like the Nova Deli’s. And ever since I’ve moved to Toronto, it’s among one of the things I miss most about my own home town.
So a few weeks ago, I saw the “Halifax Donair and Pizza” during a segment on “Breakfast Television,” (here’s the clip) and from what I saw, it looked like they had potential for an outfit that just might create a “real” donair. Actual east coasters! The sweet sauce! Big sweaty cones of meat! We had to go!
After the 35-40 minute drive to the outskirts of the 905, we found “Halifax Donair and Pizza” in a non-descript plaza off what appeared to be the only street in town (the “parking lot” held about 6 parallel-parked cars). We could smell the donair aroma from the car, so we all knew that we found the real thing. The joint was take-out style, with a trio of stools and a little rail for leading and donair scarfing.
Wonderful
The place offered many of the same items I’ve seen before at the Nova Deli, like the “donair plate” and “donair fries,” but this place’s calling card is the “Donair Pizza,” which is built Montreal (Chicago) style. We stuck with the straight-up donairs (nobody went for the one-pounder), but next time I’m thinking about grabbing a “Newf” sized pizza to bring back to Woodbine Heights for a week’s worth of greasy dinners.
Unlike the Nova Deli, which has it’s meat shipped in from the east coast, “Halifax Donair and Pizza” make their own meat, which you can tell by it’s freshness. The sweet garlic sauce was also top notch, and because we were eating there, the sandwiches were wrapped in a flashy “open” style. After the first bite, I instantly loved their donair: it was fresh, flavourful and juicy. In retrospect I should’ve requested more sauce and less onions, but beyond that, the donair was perfect.
While we were finishing up, we had a great chat with one of the owners, who told us a little about the history of the donair, how it was created by Greeks in Halifax who didn’t have their regular ingredients for Gyros (ie lamb and yogurt), and how his own family was involved in it’s development in the 60s. He also talked about how they’ve only been open for over a year, the difficulty it is for an independent food vendor to get a rental space (landlords want chains!), and how the shop is a culmination of 10 years of hard work. These guys are serious about their donairs (as is anyone who has experienced a really, really good one).
So even though I’ll always love the Nova Deli, I have to admit that they now finally have a provincial contender for best donair in Ontario. If you’re curious, make the drive… you won’t be sorry. And you’ll be back.
Oh, and that lingering “donair” smell in your clothes and on your breath? You’ll learn to love it.
So if you haven’t heard, we are probably going to be getting a puppy sometime in the new year. It’s been suggested to my S.O. that doing so would have therapeutic value in her recovery of a long-lasting chronic illness, and something we could take care of as we prepare for having kids someday.
We’ve been offered a puppy from my parents, who are hobby breeders of purebred English Bulldogs, and need some help looking after one of the dogs… and we’ve decided we want to say yes.
However, our biggest obstacle has been the whole “dog in the apartment” issue. When we signed our lease several years ago, one of the details specified was that there would be no pets in our home. Now that the situation is about to change, we now have to weigh our options. After doing some research about Ontario Tenant Rights, it seems the situation on pets-in-apartments is simple.
“No pets” clauses, even if you agree to them, are invalid by law.
However, the pet has to not “be a problem for anybody,” otherwise the landlord can enforce this rule. The landlord can evict you if the “presence, control or behaviour” of the pet interferes with the “enjoyment” of the apartment complex for all tenants and the landlord, if the pet causes the landlord or other tenants to have an allergic reaction, and if the pet is “inherently dangerous” to the safety of other tenants and the landlord.
So from a legal standpoint, if your dog isn’t bugging anyone else, you can have one… though if your landlord isn’t happy about it, then he can evict you. The truth is, if you’re renting, you probably can’t afford to take this one to court, so unless you decide to start hunting for a pet-friendly apartment, then you probably can’t have one.
In my current situation, I’m hoping that our landlord will at least let us have the dog on a trial basis, to ensure that the pet isn’t a problem for anybody. I’ve been in my apartment for nearly five years, and I like it. The rent is good, and we have a decent relationship with our landlord. We could have simply brought the dog into our house, hoping that he doesn’t notice, and then try to throw the legal argument in his face after the fact — but we didn’t want to be dishonest about the pet’s presence either.
So now we wait to hear our landlord’s verdict in the matter… it’s going to be a hard decision either way, especially after looking at my options on Craigslist and ViewIt.
UPDATE: Our landlord is cool with a trial basis… I’m pleased. Dog, ho!
