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.
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Ah, to simply be in this existence with a child-like joy and wonder —but there is much to release in order to be born again into that newness.
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
In the last two months (since December 7) I've been going to the local YMCA and working on the Couch to 5K program. I fell off the exercise wagon for two and a half weeks in January shortly after my father died because I fell into a slump, but about a week ago I felt really compelled to get back to my program again. The rush of endorphins after a good thirty minutes is the medicine I need to keep from going into a depressive episode or get overtaken by anxiety. Even at the best of times, I need to fight hard to stave those chemicals off. Earlier this week I was rather unfocused on the treadmill. Either my music was all wrong, or it just felt so boring to run on the machine . This morning I realized that it's getting light enough in time for me to run outdoors, so I ended up running (slowly, of course, it's still pretty new for me) down to Dallas Road from Quadra and Fort. I felt like I really needed to see the ocean today. It was still frosty and a bit dewy in the ear
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
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