Guelph By The Thingies: Graffiti

Downtown Guelph has many things going for it. On a brisk twenty minute walking circuit, you can go to the knitting store, pick up a used book at Macondo, and even visit the City Hall, should you ever want to see democracy in action. (I have never ever wanted to do so.)

However, downtown Guelph is not without its faults. A lot of stores do well, but there are many empty storefronts and a struggling mall right in the middle of the main square. Once the stores close, it's a wasteland until the bars open. And a block has remained burned out for years.

One of the ideas to revitalize the downtown was to move the library from it's squaretastic '70s-era digs to a new and more central location. To that end, a whole row of stores was essentially forced out. They remain empty.

Please look upon the superimposition of the street as artistic, and not the effect of annoyingly glazed windows.

If you look through the window of what used to be the Family Thrift Store, you'll see someone has spray-painted "We need communities not condos" on one of the abandoned walls. I don't think Guelph has decided whether it should agree with that sentiment or not.

Guelph By The Thingies: Real Estate Business Card

Guelph isn't all locally-sourced squares and indie bookstore newsletters, no matter what my previous entries would have you believe. So far I think I've skewed things to reflect the Guelph I mostly grew up with, which happens to be a Guelph delineated by what was in walking distance from my house.

My house was close to downtown though, which meant that I had easy access to the bakery and bookstore I talked about earlier. However, that also meant I needed a drive to Guelph's true shopping Mecca, Stone Road Mall, when it was time to go back to school.

There were cheaper clothes in other strip malls, and classier ones at boutiques downtown, but for mid-priced, middle-of-the-road style that would get you through high school (Then: The American Eagle Equilibrium. Now: Whatever It Is The Kids Like), Stone Road Mall was where it was at. And around it, there were satellite strip malls, with even more shopping options, at that time mostly Staples and the pet store.

The mall has even metastasized since I left, with more stores, a fireplace in the food court and even larger big box stores opening down the street. I walked around it all, hoping to find something that represented all the growth. But everything construction-related was safely kept away and anything else was priced. Finally, I went to guest services, where they told me the administration offices were closed and handed me a business card instead.

Maybe this "Anna Grant" has the answers to how far the Stone Road Mall will grow. I don't think it will be much, since it's already pushing its parking boundaries. Then again, who knows? Maybe they will collapse space and time around a Gap, and the mall will finally be larger than the downtown itself.

*Sorry I didn't post this last Friday - I ended up being really busy on the weekend.

Guelph By The Thingies: With The Grain Square

With The Grain is a local bakery that opened up when I was about 11. Back then, they had a tiny storefront in a house and just sold bread. Now they have risen like so many yeasty loaves to take over three buildings and offer everything edible from scones to squares to bread to jams. Basically, anything that makes the latest issue of the Globe and Mail go down easy.

And they've deserved every bit of success, because everything they sell is delicious. Also, rather dense, so you really get your money's worth. For example, the square you see here - a slice of seasonal, Ginger-Peach cheesecake - might seem pricey at $4.25. However, that's only half of the square. And considering With The Grain's philosophy of using "fresh, local, and natural ingredients" those peaches are probably real Ontario peaches (which, for people unlucky enough to grow up elsewhere, are golden orbs worthy of Zeus himself) and the ginger has been ground by donkeys at a sanctuary or something. Then again, at With The Grain, it could come from Satan himself and people would still flock there.

Tomorrow: I venture to Stone Road Mall in search of an artifact of Guelph's sprawl.

Guelph By The Thingies: Guelph Remastered Sign

Right now, construction is everywhere in Guelph. You know how the standard joke for any Canadian city is that there are two seasons, winter and construction? Well, in Guelph it seems that there are three modes. Winter, construction, and MEGA CONSTRUCT OVERDRIVE 3000. We currently appear to be in the latter, with every two blocks or so having some kind of site.

The City even has a name for it, and sadly it is not my infinitely superior version found above. Instead, it is Guelph. Remastered. The posters are actually quite pretty, but the highlight is the slogan: "It'll be worth it."

It's rare to see an ad campaign based on how unconvincing its product's premise can be. Well, at least the ads are ready to placate the irate drivers who can't use Victoria Road. If they don't work though, I have two slogans they can use instead: "Guelph: Please Bear With Us" and "Guelph: Technical Difficulties, Please Stand By." If either slogan is used, I will accept payment in City of Guelph pens and bookmarks. It'll be worth it.

Guelph By The Thingies: Off The Shelf, The Bookshelf Newspaper

This is The Bookshelf (courtesy of Google Images.) Explaining it to Outlanders was one of my most difficult tasks while living in Montreal. I could make it through "local independent bookstore" - Oh, that's great! - "it's pretty much the only one in town" - Cute! - "and sometimes it feels like it has a Medici-like stranglehold on local arts and culture" - which would then earn a disbelieving look. Alright, I exaggerate just a bit, but it's a complex containing a bookstore, restaurant, café and art cinema, so unless $5 popcorn and Avatar is your thing, it's where you'll probably end up in Guelph.


It also publishes its own bimonthly newsletter, complete with cinema listings, book reviews and ads for local therapists and life coaches. A lot of them. Eleven out of forty one ads, if you include Irish spirit wheel workshops, which I do.

At first, I wanted to make fun of that hilariously high percentage, and how living in Guelph sometimes feels like you're stuck in a Dykes To Watch Out For comic strip. Or a historical village dedicated to the 1970s,with very intense interpreters. However, I can't say I would change a thing. There's something comforting, and positively Guelphian (in both senses) in all the therapy media. It's not that this newsletter is saying you must be a better person, or that you will be a better person. It just seems to think, that with enough work, you can be a better person. All problems can be solved, all sexual dysfunctions put to work and all Irish spirit wheels turning as long as you just find the right person with the right credentials.

In this case, Jungian psychoanalysis seems to have the advantage. Two out of eleven ads, for three therapists.

Here's a breakdown of the rest of the ads, just in case you were interested. Me? I just like making pie charts.

Back To Ontario

To continue my last post: So, I moved. There was a last-minute snafu involving - who else? - Quebec hydro, that lead to a mental breakdown, a lot of swearing and then a significant outlay of funds. However, I managed to overcome that last little wrinkle, and barring a threatening phone call from my old landlord or the girl who's taking over my apartment, I am free of Montreal.

And it feels kind of gross.

Especially since I've become the cliche of cliches, a New York Times Magazine article. Yes, I am now one of those twentysomethings who has taken wing, soared above the city... and turned right around and back into the nest. I rather exhausted my savings being unemployed in Montreal, and until I find a job in Toronto, I am living in Guelph.

I keep on having terrifying premonitions that this whole experiment will end with me eating cheezies and watching The Price Is Right at two in the afternoon, entertaining erotic notions about Bob Barker and wondering why I now have to settle for Drew Carey.

Anyway, I want to get this blog back on a 1962 recipe-making, movie-bitching path, but I think that's at least a week away while I deal with my quarterlife crisis. Until then, I'm going to try and explain my hometown with daily posts on particularly Guelphy artifacts, starting with the local independent bookstore/ art house cinema's bimonthly listings. Oh yes, in Guelph we believe in versatility.

I Hate Craigslist

So, I'm moving. And, like many a person who has to move, I have a surplus of stuff. And so, again like many person who has to move, I have turned to Craigslist in an attempt to offload it all.

And now I hate humanity.

First, of all, the reading comprehension skills of the average Craigslister are dire. If I put "Frontenac Metro" in the title of my post, why do I then get three e-mail responses asking me which metro I'm closest to? Maybe I should send the answer to them in a series of clues.

The first clue: Look in the title.
The second: No, seriously, I do not live at Metro Slow Cooker For Sale.
The third: Or at Metro Vendome.
The fourth: Rhymes with "Trontenac.:
The fifth: I hate you.

Or when I saw "pickup only", I should also not get an e-mail asking if I deliver. It's a 10 dollar shelf. TEN DOLLARS. Get your lazy ass over here and get it, I am not The Brick.

Also, I've noticed that a lot of people will e-mail you, you'll give them your contact info and then you'll never hear from them again. In a weird fit of anxiety, I always wonder if they're okay. Like, what if they're hoarders, and a pile of newspapers from '95 fell on them, and they're pinned underneath all the print unable to hit send? That would be an awful lot of guilt for me to bear.

However, I will say this for Craigslist. It's awesome at getting rid of the old appliances your new tenant decided she didn't want anymore. Even if the washer goes to one very optimistic, and very strong, Russian who ends up moving pretty much the whole thing all by himself, except for the part where the washer fell over and put a gash in my foot. Still, the blood spilled was worth it, as I didn't have to pay to have it disposed. And that is truly the greatest gift of all.

Eat Pray Love: Carnage At The Cinema

My general anxiety level was raised to code yellow (HORROR) recently. Why?

The reason stalks the land on two, long willowy legs, a bunch of pasta in its mouth, superficial Eastern spirituality on the brain, and a hot Brazilian... well, you know. It's also known as Julia Roberts as Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love: The Movie.

Ahhh! The horror! Alright, my issues with this movie aren't so much with Elizabeth Gilbert, or the problematic aspects of PrivLit, but with the biblio terrorism my Mom practiced when the book came out. I was at home for the summer after a miserable year at university, feeling depressed and unloved. At odd intervals, my Mom would compound problems by cornering me in the kitchen and reading out passages she found particularly amusing or enlightening.

When she was finished, I would remind her that I, too, could overcome my depression if she would only finance my round-the-world trip*. That never stopped her though. And since, considering the way my life is going, there is a 99.99999% chance I'll be moving back to Guelph soon as I relocate my life to Toronto, I'm worried she'll have another go at the memoir form of shock and awe. And while the movie is less portable, random snippets seem much more appealing compared to two hours held captive in a dark movie theatre.

*Working title: Stuff, Drink, Regret. Possible locations: Kansas City, MO; Moscow; Dark Night Of The Soul.

BTO: Binding iT Off

I'm taking a page from the fine philosophers Bachman, Turner et al and making my new life motto TCB: takin' care of business.

So far though, it's more like TCK: takin' care of knitting. About a week ago, I tired of the glut of half-finished and orphaned projects I had kicking around and decided to finish them all. First up, the most tragic knit of all: the Arctic Diamonds Stole.Started at least two years ago, this stole had an unfortunate run in with a leaky container of tomato soup. Instead of spot-treating the stains immediately, I hid it away in frustration. I am wise. I was wiser still in using extra braces elastics as stitch markers, because the rubber quickly degraded and added more, if also more regularly spaced, stains. Yee haw.
I forged ahead anyways and managed to get some of the stains out. I'm willing to accept the finished project, but only with some DRAMATIC FRINGE. At the rate I'm adding the fringe though, it will be another two years before it is complete. Oh well. Think of the DRAMA.
Next: My January Aran is getting sleeves! Consider it a belated 100th birthday shout-out to Elizabeth Zimmerman. By the way, that is a Penguin of Perseverence my Dad bought for me at a street fair. I look to it for inspiration.

Stuck On Pause, With Pasta

Oh mon dieu. I wish I had momentous news from my absence to report, but not so much. For a while there, my life felt like it was stuck on pause. I was waiting to hear back about one job, but thinking about moving back to Ontario. I was going off to volunteer, but coming home to play endless rounds of solitaire. I was on a unicycle, pedaling endlessly in space.

Ok, scratch the unicycle part, although it makes for a fun mental image. No wait, I want to continue with the metaphor. Eventually, though, I decided to stop pedaling and descend gracelessly from the unicycle. Now I am back on my own two feet, I have a plan and I begin to feel semi-competent again.

To celebrate, here's a quick recipe, sans photos, for a dish I've been making a lot recently. I bought ingredients for a pasta salad since there was a picnic on the horizon. The picnic went swimmingly, even though it became an indoor thing thanks to rain, but I still have orphaned artichoke hearts. Hence this pasta dish. Make it when you're lazy, poor and have nuttin' but jars in the fridge and a basil plant on the windowsill.

The Fridge Is Bare And Your Life Is Overwhelming Pasta, or Carbs, Yay.
-enough spaghetti for one person
-a handful of oil-packed, sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
-two artichoke hearts, drained, sliced and separated
-one shot of olive oil
-a handful of finely-grated parmesan cheese
-two generous pinches of fresh basil, chopped
-salt and pepper to taste

1. Make spaghetti. Refer to the box instructions if you must. Drain.
2. Toss with sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke heart slices, and olive oil. Throw in basil, parmesan, and salt and pepper, then toss until the cheese begins to melt.
3. That's it, you're done. Serve with depanneur beer and a side of quarter-life crisis, but finish off with hope.