Month: March 2014

In my head, my broken Italian is utterly charming as I string together the very few verbs and nouns I know with all the wrong tenses and pronouns, combined with some deliciously fun charades and sound effects. I fantasize restauranteurs give us complimentary prosecco, hotel managers give us the ocean view, tour guides show us the secret grave of Marc Antony and extended family members tear up with joy that I have made the effort to learn my father’s tongue. But the reality is: I am way way way behind on my Rosetta stone and I leave for Italy in…

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The holy road trip. And it is holy, as far as I’m concerned. It’s the modern pilgrimage. And when we can’t go on that pilgrimage ourselves, we watch film after film after film of two people in a car on a quest who end up having some sort of massive revelation in Utah before either dying or crossing over into an Utopian Mexico with no border. Modern forms of prayer, parable and pilgrimage fascinate me. We find ways of doing them, even if we never walk the Camino to Santiago, take the road to Mecca or wander in the wilderness…

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Imagine. There was a time before free porn. If I took off my clothes it may actually cause a little wonder. Imagine the time when even a real Cassanova might only see dozens, maybe hundreds of paper or real women, not thousands by the time he’s old enough to get an erection. What is it like to have your innocence robbed in one second? In the click of a thumb? To have your eyes raped? Little boys. And little girls. Imagine there was a time when you didn’t have to see hard porn if you didn’t choose to. If someone…

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Today I am going to refer you over to Rebecca Coleman’s excellent blog where she asks me a few questions about writing and I tell a few stories I haven’t told before. Partly I am sharing these stories because International Woman’s Day is coming up and we must never forget what the women before us have striven so hard to achieve and what we still have to protect:   http://www.rebeccacoleman.ca/2014/03/07/writers-on-writing/writersonwriting-4-lucia-frangione/

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Tonight the Flame felt like a family reunion. (for those of you who don’t know the Flame, it’s a night of storytelling at the Cottage Bistro first Wed of every month – the story has to be you, true, and a few minutes only) It was jam packed this rainy evening. I was one of the speakers, came early, and still couldn’t get a seat.  The story tellers ranged from school teachers to a Doctors Beyond Borders to an actor just out of school who came out to his Iranian parents to Anton Lipovetsky singing about never having kissed a…

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The phone rings today. I see an unfamiliar Alberta number. “You’re not gonna get me you telemarketer, sorry sucker” I say. I get an email shortly after. Turns out it is an artistic director! He makes me an offer for a three month acting role! It’s a real gem of a situation that I’m delighted about. Wonderful artists involved. I’ll give more details when all is confirmed. I am so surprised! I do a little jig all day while I finish cleaning up the wicked dirty apartment I’ve been griping about this week. I wipe glass. Grateful. Two hours more…

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Wow. It just dawned on me that I am coming up for five years single this spring. I remember hearing five years ago that it takes five years before one is fully ready to get back on the horse again if they wish to. I have to concur, that feels about right. I am planning two massive road trips, inadvertently, to celebrate the dawn of a new era. I am going to Italy with one of my best friends for three weeks and before that I am driving to San Francisco and then Disneyland with my daughter Nora. When I…

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