A few years ago, my mom took me to see Leonard Cohen in concert. She was over the moon about going and I was primarily going with her because I wanted to watch her during the show. I had no real vested interest in seeing Leonard. I had a version of him singing "Closing Time" which was, at that tempo, a 7 minute song so I was usually bored of the song before it was done. Suffice to say, I had very low expectations of the concert itself. And definitely not prepared for the experience.

I remember being a bit awestruck. I didn't end up watching mom that much because I was so enjoying the show. His voice, the adoration from the crowd, the music, the poetry. It was so much more than I had hoped for.

Today, I went through the CDs in the car because I was sick of the radio ads. And there was the Leonard Cohen Live In London CD I got after the concert. I was in the perfect mood for it. There wasn't a lot of ad-lib to the banter (the same in London as in Saskatoon) in between songs, but I enjoyed that too. I found myself smiling and having the same reactions I had sitting in my seat at the concert.

In the midst of my enjoying the memories and the music, this line struck me.
"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."
I remember it striking me that night too, but not nearly as strongly as I did today. There's so much truth in that. I searched through the different meanings it could have, and there were a few and all of them applied to me. I'm always looking for ways to remember that it's okay to not be my idea of perfect. This covered them all and in a particularly beautiful way. I want to remember this everyday. To remember it when I'm fighting with myself and others. To remember it when I have set expectations of myself. To remember it when I think I'm a horrible mom. This line gives me so much hope in myself for who I can and want to be.

I had moments through out the CDs that made me reflect on my relationships with my friends, my mom, and repeatedly, my husband. He recites a poem that almost every time I hear it, I cry. As all his songs are poetry. He sometimes sings "A Thousand Kisses Deep", but I do love his recitation from the concert. I love how the crowd stops all their noise by the end of the third verse to just listen. It's so moving.

Thanks to Leonard for making my drive today a little less lonely and making me feel so much hope.

I recently had the incredible experience of being with one of my best friends during her first fashion show. Watching someone you've known forever get one giant step closer to their dream is inspiring and humbling and utterly wonderful.

Fashion is weird. Some designers don't mean for their clothes to be worn, I think. Why else would they design this?  Yes, it was inspired by fencing which I think it cool, but utterly unwearable.  And then there was the skirts out of window screen mesh which looked like one of those old plastic lampshades with the perma-ruffle in hard plastic.  Maybe it's just not for me.

I don't want to be mean because this creation is also part of someone's dream.  My eyes were bugging out of my head with incredulity at some of the garments coming down the runway.  Why does some fashion have to be on the wrong side of funky?  Couldn't there be a little more thought put into each piece to make it wearable AND inspired by fencing?  Again, maybe that's just me.  I don't really know how to make art without making it functional art.

My fashion includes comfort by well-fitted clothes that flatter with a bit of flare.  And I don't mean pin on buttons with cute sayings.