pal·imp·sest:
A manuscript, typically of papyrus or parchment, that has been written on more than once, with the earlier writing incompletely erased and often legible.
08 Sept 11
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The Earth is drowsy
And the sun's light has shifted
To Fall's wistful slant.
This past weekend, one of my three younger sisters invited me to join her on a float in our city's Pride parade this weekend. It was, of course, fabulous to the extreme—especially since my sibling had recently won the title as the exquisite Mr. Gay Vancouver Island (in her drag king incarnation as Eddi Licious). She honoured me by asking me to participate with her. I've been a lover of Pride festivities for years. I've enjoyed them in Montréal and Toronto, and find the celebrations here in Victoria to be particularly charming for reasons that are hard to articulate. Maybe it's because the crowds are smaller; the participants, too, seem so legitimately joyful, and not at all jaded. So when I was invited to be on an actual float in a parade that would take me throughout the downtown core in full view of a large population, I decided to go for it, no holds barred. I have a not-so-latent drag queen living inside of me, as evidenced by my passion for all things sparkly and
It's not often that I go to a world-class, upscale tourist destination, but today was a bit different: Niche Magazine hosted an afternoon tea and fashion show event at the Empress Hotel ; a portion of each ticket sold offered support to the BC Children's Hospital Foundation. And because I adore fancy tea situations, and don't find myself in nearly enough of them, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Goodies at the Empress Hotel, November 30, 2014 Now, because of my late grandmother's lifelong tea-loving ways, I've sentimental feelings for super-floral china tea cups and teapots. But I am by no means a tea aficionado—I just like a good Orange Pekoe, a fancy tea pot, and Granny-type cups and saucers. Add a few dainty sandwiches with the crusts cut off, arrange them on a tiered tray, and I get giddy. Accordingly, I spend a lot of time on Pinterest collecting images of what I call tea-rotica, and have a little cup and saucer at home that I use ritualistic
The vintage Staffordshire English teapot by Gibsons, which my late granny gave me years ago, became even more of a treasure when she died two years ago. Her last words to me were "Are you making tea?" I wasn't—I was actually just opening up a can of ginger ale. Knowing what I know now, I wish that I'd answered, "Yes, Granny, I am making tea."
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