La Dolce Ordinario

I lost Pee Boy. The third most iconic symbol of Japan (next to Geishas and that mountain in all the paintings), Pee Boy gracefully hung on my keychain, adding a touch of class to the lint and miscellaneous coins at the bottom of my purse. And now he's gone. My lucky charm. Lost in translation. Lost in narration. I weep. Pee Boy was the greatest souvenir I've ever known. 

I noticed he was AWOL as I stood in line at Wal-Mart for what seemed like days, foolishly shopping for unnecessities while their anniversary sale was underway. Playing with my keys seemed more intellectually stimulating than paying heed to the tabloid headlines touting Heidi Montag's latest surgery and also doubled as a welcome diversion from staring at the butt crack of the person in front of me. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first moon I witnessed that afternoon. *shudder* Pants are a requirement to shop at most establishments; it's a damn shame that underwear can't be added to the list. Momentarily questioning my cheapness frugality, I later determined that saving 50 cents on toothpaste was, indeed, worth the torture.

Also in my shopping cart was a pan. A baking pan. I am teaching myself to bake thanks to a few internet recipes and a somewhat shaky confidence that what I create will actually be edible. A less ambitious amateur chef might choose to make muffins or some variation of bland biscuit, but not I. Diving headfirst into this new pursuit, I have decided that my first creation will be Italian tri-colored cookies, which actually aren't cookies but rather a small pink-yellow-green cake separated by layers of raspberry jam and smothered in dark chocolate. I have fond memories of my mother taking me to Eaton's in downtown Winnipeg in order to pick up a few as a treat. They were always so delicious...but pricey. Definitely not a regular indulgence but rather a treat to be savored on special occasions. The special occasion now is that I'm 30 and barely know how to boil an egg. Swan dive. No floaties. Next up: fried fugu. If only I still had my lucky charm. 

Running Back to Saskatoon

It's an endless drive. The drive from Saskatoon to Winnipeg. Right when you think you are closing in on your final destination, the expanse of nothingness continues. Through Chamberlain, through Moosomin. Through towns with a population of 8.4. My iPod kept recycling Make Me Wanna Die as if reading my mind. But the extra long drive was nothing compared to the torture I faced in the 'Peg. The city didn't take our break-up well and decided to kick my ass upon my return.

I arrived early in the evening on August 27 with luggage, a wee dog and a growling stomach. Saskatoon is a great city, but it's got NOTHING on Winnipeg in terms of quality and variety of restaurants. Before departing, I made a list of all the places I wanted to revisit during my whirlwind week. Near the top of the list was Santa Lucia Pizza. After denying myself food all day, I made haste to the phone to order a pepperoni pie. Memories of their sweet, tangy sauce and ooey-gooey cheese made me salivate in anticipation. But after biting into a piece, I noticed something was different. Perhaps it was new management trying to rework a classic in their own vision. Or maybe it could all be blamed on the economy and yet another business attempting to increase their profits by decreasing quality of materials. In any event, this pizza did not live up to their usually high standards. The pepperoni had a weird flavor to it. The sauce lost it's bite. The ooey-gooey cheese was still there, but could not save it. I still devoured the whole thing in record time, but it was strictly out of pity. At this point, I was so hungry I was eyeing the cardboard box.

I awoke the next morning to a gut-ache and a flat tire. A bummer for sure, but part of me was just happy to see my vehicle in the same spot I parked it in (Winnipeg is the car-theft capital of Canada). After making a pit stop at the mechanic, I went for a walk with the two dogs downtown. This is not the first choice most pet-owners would make but Monty is already an urban pooch and Reggie is just happy to be taken anywhere. I wanted to "rediscover" the area of which I had spent a good portion of my adult life (albeit within regular work hours). I wanted to try seeing the beauty in a place that is considered so very, very ugly. Slowly meandering down the streets I once tried to flee, I realized that the downtown core is actually quite awe-inspiring. Every alley tells a story. Every block standing as a monument to Winnipeg's rise, fall and death at the hands of indifference. I made my way through the Exchange towards Higgins and then back around to Canada's most famous intersection of Portage and Main. Yes, vagrants were encountered. Yes, there were weird smells emanating from some of the abandoned buildings. I don't think I would live there, but if I still called the city home, I would definitely make more of an effort to appreciate its core (before the moon rises at least).

The trek through the concrete jungle definitely made me work up a healthy appetite thus my culinary adventure continued with a visit to Palatal Mongolian Grill (my favorite restaurant). As I debated what toppings to include in my stir-fry (and what sauce would exotically compliment them), I momentarily forgot that successful walking involves putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right...eons of evolution promise that this should be second-nature by now. All those years of dyeing my hair blonde, however, must have had a strange osmosis effect. Or at least that's what I tell myself as I nurse a broken toe and a bruised kneecap that is blacker than Cruella deVil's heart. Stir-fry was ace though (as always).

The remainder of the week was spent hiking through two of my favorite parks (La Barriere and Bird's Hill), getting stuck in traffic, having my faith in humanity depleted, having my faith in humanity restored. My mother made a turkey dinner with all the trimmings that should tie me over until Christmas (mmmmmm mmmmm) and I also had one more pizza, this time from Mr. B's (the best in all of Canada, I guarantee). It was a return to my former life and all the joys and stresses that accompany it. Nearing day four though, I realized why I had wanted a change. Needed a change. I started to miss Saskatoon, where people still say 'hello' to each other while out for a walk rather than clutching their purses (and pearls). Where you can drive from one end of town to the other in 20 minutes flat. Where my newest favorite food resides (Super Donair). My stomach growling again, I hit the highway for the endless drive back.

Although it always seems faster when heading home.

Manitoba gallery has been added here.  

*Facepalm*

As heard on CBC Evening News at 5:00pm on Monday, August 16 (in relation to this story): 

"Police wouldn't say what was in the explosives, but a quick internet search turned up hundreds of recipes. All you need is this (holds plastic bottle up) and a few common household items."

I hear tomorrow's newscast will feature an enlightening segment on how to get away with murder. 

Saskatoon Ex: An Odyssey

The thing I miss most about summer in Winnipeg is attending the Red River Ex with friends. If there's one event that signals the start of summer (besides the infestation of mosquitos), it's this traveling carnival of rickety rides and arterie-clogging half-foods. In short, it's a week of awesomeness. Therefore when I heard the Saskatoon version was rolling into town, I knew I had to attend. And so it was written. 

The Saskatoon Ex is located at Prairieland Park, an area with ample space for amusement rides, food concessions and $10 ring toss throws. There is also lots of room for parking...when the Ex isn't on. The lot was near capacity when I arrived, the only available stalls would have been tight with a Mini Cooper. Can't say the bus would have been a better option though: transit information was nonexistent on the official website and at $2.75 each way would have been costlier per head than carpooling. Seeing as my vehicle has become a punching bag of sorts since I moved out here, I eventually threw caution to the wind and squeezed into a spot Austin Powers-style.

The Saskatoon Ex remains a relatively wholesome family event where octogenarians can safely bump shoulders with brooding teenagers feebly trying to hide their excitement. Bingo is played. Corn dogs consumed. It felt somewhat quaint, definitely devoid of the sleeze that permeates the air of the Winnipeg version. The first attraction I headed for - as always - was the Superdogs show (or, should I say, "The President's Choice Superdogs"...they are definitely getting their sponsorship dollar's worth from the announcer). The dogs always seem so keen to showcase their skill and endurance, however, this video frame may belie their perceived submission:

Someday, Rover, you will be master and she will be begging for Scoobie Snacks. Someday.

Also, props to President's Choice for funding the most amazing inflatable mascot I have ever seen. Look at that authoritative pose:

The dogs put on a great performance, made greater by the fact that they finally retired playing "Who Let The Dogs Out?" as an interlude. Another canine-themed show at the Saskatoon Ex was Dock Dogs. Since the batteries for my camera went dead about 10 minutes after I arrived, I unfortunately have no pictures. Trust though, that the border collies involved were more deserving of being on the mainstage than Stereos (*shudder*). If that band is qualified to receive tax-payer funded financial assistance to pursue their musical ambitions, then I would like to announce that I will soon retire from advertising to become a glam-rock yodeler.    

A friend of mine from high school left one summer to become a carnie and was never seen again. True story. I thought of this while strolling through the midway. The sun was setting. The garbage cans had shifty eyes:

The only thing scarier that that was the concession selling deep-fried cheesecake. DEEP. FRIED. CHEESECAKE. Holy shit! Surely, it's a less painful suicide than jumping off a balcony but imagine how your thighs would look? Leaving behind a good-looking corpse is important; you never know, that handsome mortician just might be single. Other tightrope walks over the valley of death included the shark encounter and riding the zipper before popping a Maalox. The Saskatoon Ex: for the adventurous at heart and of stomach. 

Til we meet again in 2011...

Update:

Photo galleries have been updated with new images from my latest excursion to Western Canada. Explore here. 

A Cuppa Tea, Guv'nor

Our final official day in Denver was spent getting high off peppermint fumes and floating on clouds. Our chariot for the latter adventure was a rented Nissan Versa. Going up into the Rockies, it felt at times that we could achieve greater horsepower by accelerating Flintstones-style. Or at least that's what the cyclists told us as they raced past. Driving along the winding highway, we at first missed the turn to North America's highest paved road and somehow found ourselves at a creepy roadside rest that was made evermore so by the fact that there was a bullet-ridden door sitting on the hinges of the women's restroom. Quite surreal. It was at this point that I deeply regretted my decision to drink a gallon of apple juice for breakfast.

After gathering our bearings (and re-reading the map), we made our way onward and upward, literally, and climbed Mount Evans. At times the scenery provided a moonscape-esque atmosphere with flora and fauna that I have never bore witness to before. The view from the top was spectacular offering an endless vista of Colorado's main attraction (next to La Bohéme Gentlemen's Cabaret that is). The view down (as witnessed directly outside my passenger door window) was spectacularly terrifying. Pictures were taken. Memories formed. But it was now time to get down to business...and visit the Celestial Seasonings Tea Factory. 

I LOVE Celestial Seasonings. I love, love, love everything about the brand...the product, the packaging, the overall whimsy. As nerdy as it sounds, this was the number one thing I wanted to see during my stint in Colorado; another checkmark off the ol' bucket list. The factory, located in Boulder, offers complimentary tours the starting point of which is a room where you can sample a variety of their flavour offerings (Moroccan Pomegranate was especially delicious). But the main draw of the place is the renowned Mint Room. Stepping into it is positively overwhelming...in the best way possible. With each inhale, I could feel it's magical properties working their way through my entire body. The experience left me fantasizing about leaving everything behind, boarding a plane to India and becoming a Guru for all things mint-related (and I would, but I'm not sure I could commit to growing a beard). Exiting the factory through the gift shop, I felt renewed. But as the natural high wore off, I caught a glimpse into a very bleak world indeed: that of an outlet mall during a recession. 

Canadian currency at par, credit cards burning a hole in our wallets, our next stop was the outlet mall in Loveland, CO. Or should I say, what once was an outlet mall in Loveland, CO. Now it was basically a multi-acreage of abandoned storefronts and vacant parking lots. A modern ghost town with tumbleweed blowing past a huge half-lit Nike sign. The visual was, perhaps, a sober reminder of the pitfalls of capitalism but I couldn't be arsed at the time to realize it; I just wanted to buy a cheap freakin' pair of jeans. Thankfully, as always, a Target was present to save the day. But sadly, it too had an air of desperation around it. We ended the evening, I kid thee not, at a restaurant called 'Rock Bottom'. The perfect end to an imperfect day. 

"No, really...I think I can hold it":

Hug those curves:

The BEST Philly Cheesesteak. So nice, I had it twice during my stay:

2010 HOW Conference: A Review (PART II)

The GOOD: The HOW/InHOWse Conference officially got underway on Monday, June 7 as designers from far and wide made their way to the Denver Convention Centre (and nearby Hyatt) to listen to speakers that would impart knowledge and justify our expense claims. My first (and favorite) session was titled "Leading By Influence" by the engaging, entertaining riCardo Crespo. Formerly the man behind the Hot Wheels brand at Mattel, riCardo is now employed at 20th Century Fox. As part of the InHOWse portion, he made sense of working within a box and stressed the importance of implementing a culture of collaboration (driving home the African phrase UBUNTU: "I am because we are"). Everything he said seemed logical and yet, most corporate environments do not implement the strategies that could only enhance them in the long run. Truly inspirational, I could have listened to riCardo for hours. The organizers of HOW should definitely invite him back next year. 

Another great speaker was Chris Chapman of the Disney Design Group (but I'm not entirely unbiased as I'm a Mouse House fiend). His session discussed the best methods of getting rid of the frustration in terms of client relationships. I will choose to keep his wisdom to myself as the study of an individual's psyche can be a two-way street, however, I will state that it was really cool to witness the revision process that takes place at such an iconic, well beloved institution. 

THE BAD: For every great speaker, however, there was one that made me want to walk out (and, at times, I did). It's always poor form to make other people feel, well, poor. And that is exactly what Jeni Herberger did during her session on "Becoming Priceless to Your Company". Coming out and apologizing for wearing the same shoes two days in a row (!?) and then bragging about spending thousands on them ("I don't shop at Payless, but you probably do") was offensive, not insightful, especially considering that the economic climate is still in a state of repair. I've read over my notes, but really the only thing I took away from this waste of an hour was that she *boo hoo* has recently had to do her own housework at homes in Seattle, Southern California and Hawaii. Tough life. Thanks for sharing. 

Self-indulgence wasn't limited to the InHOWse sessions though. I attended a talk on "Good Design vs. Great Design" by Cameron Moll that turned out to be just an hour long spiel on his personal projects, including a limited edition typographic poster that was, we were repeatedly reminded, on sale in the onsite book store for only $100.00. 

THE VERDICT: While it definitely seemed to be a mixed-bag of quality, I still feel as though I walked away a better, stronger designer, more resolved than ever in my decision to enter this profession years ago. As well, the bond that my colleagues and I formed over our week in Denver is now stronger than ever. We are a solid team, moving forward, aiming higher. In closing, I recommend the HOW/InHOWse Design Conference and hope to attend again next year in Chicago. I will probably be wearing the same shoes. I hope that's not a problem.