hunter gatherer

fall is here. Angus doesn't understand why the porch got cold, but every morning like clockwork, he'd like to go out there anyway, please oh please oh please. Perhaps for only two minutes, or maybe more if he's feeling brave. When he returns, the long hair down the middle of his back is spiked up into a "frozen-cat" mohawk.

But yet, he repeats. Over and over again.

We tell ourselves he's smart. And adventurous.

like a bicycle

It's been almost three years since we moved to Montreal, and just about an even three years since I played my last game with my (the best, obviously!) former soccer team in Ottawa. I can't believe how much I took for granted that that town LOVES soccer. Moving to a bigger city, I was sure it would be easy. If Ottawa was soccer-crazy with just under a million people, Montreal clearly had to be even more so, right? Wrong.

I won't ever get back all the hours I wasted on fruitless google searching for "Montreal women's soccer" and dreaming that I'd find something close to home or for people over twenty years old. Or the (repeated) conversations I had about joining the anarchist soccer league (?!). I'm not sure I'm anarchist-league material (I like rules. I even wear shin pads. Recently voted least likely to be an anarchist, me). Also, co-ed soccer is horrible.

But I've finally stepped up and decided that if I want to play I'm going to have to travel for it. TO LACHINE. This is less than ideal (suburbs? seriously?), but it was made immensely more worth it yesterday when I headed to a two hour clinic to work on the passing, defending and scoring technique that I was sure I just would have forgotten, in advance of next week's first game.

Turns out? Playing soccer is just like riding a bicycle. You never forget.

It also turns out that when you don't play for three years, you can hurt muscles that you forgot existed. I keep telling myself it's good pain.


fall playlist

I do love hot and humid summer days, sunsets at 9pm, drinking cold wine on the hot porch until the wee hours of the night. But there is really no season I love more than fall. The crisp air, the crunchy leaves underneath your feet, the beautiful light for photographs, the feeling that everybody is going back to school, even if you're not actually going back to anything but another week at work. September and October are my favourite months, no contest. It's also the perfect time to sit snuggled on the porch in blankets, with mugs of tea, listening to music while the sun quietly slips over the horizon, earlier, and earlier.

This is what I'll be listening to as it does.

The Man on the Stairs, by The Classical


Manchester, Kishi Bashi


Icarus, The Staves (with Keaton Henson)


My Love is Real, Divine Fits

If you, like me, loved Spoon ten years ago, you will love this.


That Bird has a Broken Wing, Sun Kil Moon


Who, St Vincent & David Byrne Amazing. Amazing.