What smells??

So, last time I was at the grocery store (roughly a month ago) I picked up some new laundry detergent because I was running low-ish and it was on sale and it was pay-day. It was buy one get one free. Sunlight, which I've never used before. But it looked okay and smelled good in the store.

Sidebar: I have been loving the Spray and Wash aka Resolve lately. I add it to all my wash loads and I not only love the smell but I also love the job it does!!

I've washed all my clothes with this new laundry detergent. (Sunday is laundry day at my maison) And I started wearing said clothes on Monday. The scent is called, Warm Summer or something. So of course, I had visions of invoking the following feelings with this new detergent:

And This:

And maybe even this:

Ahhhh Summer.

Instead? I keep getting whiffs of this:

What gives????

Elsie P

PS - It still reminds me of summer....

Ideas are like ...

...bums. Everyone has one. And a lot of them stink.
There is nothing worse than having an idea only to find out that someone has already had it, registered it and begun making it a reality. Sheesh!

My idea required me to register a domain name. After many conversations and much (un)solicited advice, I decided to see if anyone had my domain name. When I plugged it in to my address bar, it was already registered. Darn. Then I tried a variation. Taken. The [ .ca ] version was available, however, I was told that I would want to make sure I registered the [ .com ] because anyone going to my site may be accidentally re-directed to the other site. Which is porn. Oooops.

Is there any domain name out there that hasn't been bought up!??

Sheeeesh!!


Elsie P

PS - I am not giving up on this one. I know I've got a good one and I am going to keep think sideways to figure out how to make it work!

PPS - Moral of this story is DON'T get discouraged when your idea is already "taken". Take comfort in knowing that it really was a good idea 'cause great minds think alike...

The difference between men and women.

Who does this? It's difficult to see, but, the two eggs on the far left? They are whole eggs.

Everything else in the carton? Used eggs. Shells. Who does this!?

It was nice of him to cook dinner. It was not nice to wake up on Sunday morning to this:

That would be Kraft Tuna Casserole (way better than you  might think)

Kind of like that nursery rhyme..."Some like it in the pot....nine days old"

I am not that SOME.

Just like Santa...

not just the round belly and the rosy cheeks, either!
I am, at heart, a list maker. I love to make lists. I will make lists of lists I want to make!!
Deep down, there is a huge feeling of accomplishment when you draw that marker from left to right signifying that a task is - once and for all - complete. At least for this week.

My big move is happening in less than a week. Exciting right? Yes and no. I have to do all the work on this one on my own. I've done all the planning, packing, dis-assembling, carting of boxes, etc. Not that I would have expected much different. I mean, in my 'relationship' I have been the one doing everything, also. And now that I have said goodbye to that relationship, sent up the distress signal from the sinking ship that is our life together, I am getting out. Once and for all.
So this weekend, I made a list of all the things I needed to accomplish by the end of the weekend

And thus I started packing. What began as this

Was soon dismantled and turned in to something messier than this is (if you can imagine)
And proof, that Elsie P was headed out:

There she is. 

$11 Jugs

Need I say more??
I went to an art show yesterday after work. It was a student show-and-sale where basically, all the art students trot out all the art that they've produced over the last school year and sell it off.
Some of it was really, really good.
Some of it was not.

We elected to go on the day the art show opened; the art is more plentiful and less picked over. Well, the day it opened happened to be a Thursday - a work day. I went armed with my Visa and just a few bucks, I dind't want to go overboard. I also thought ahead and grabbed a pair of jeans to wear to the show. I work in an office and on that day, I was wearing a dressier outfit than most of the other guys in our office and seeing as I was going to the show with one of those guys, it just made it a little more casual.

Well, the show was great. It was - for lack of a better word - fairly inspiring. I have some great ideas for stuff I want to throw on the walls at my new place. It also gave me an idea for a textile I'd like to create to make a hoodie out of. Neat neat neat! I love art!

It turned out to be just one guy from the office and myself that went out to the show. As we were headed back out to catch a train home, my colleague asked if I wanted to maybe grab a drink or something before we headed home. Never one to refuse booze (and also being particularly parched at that moment) I agreed. Enthusiastically.
Luckily, we were at the School of Art and Design...and we all know what that means: Campus Bar.
I can't recollect the last time I was at a student bar -- likely because of what transpired whilst I was there -- but I do remember what they are all like: Big, open space. Cheap tables and folding chairs. A stage. Students. And that smell : dirty draught lines, pencil lead and a serious need to visit the laundromat. Magical.
The special? $11 Jugs of Pilsner.

The conversation was great, the beer was good (and cheap!) and I was really, really enjoying myself. I haven't been getting out lately or really talking to anyone - mostly as I don't have that many friends - and I found myself just genuinely having a great time. So, when my accomplice asked if I'd like to order another round, I of course said yes. To the second, third and fourth jugs. (For those that don't know, a jug is about 60oz of beer).

Here the story gets a little fuzzy. I will highlight what I remember:
I needed something to eat. The beer was sitting in my stomach making me very, very inebriated.
We had to leave to get something to eat.
We walked in - trashed - to a restaurant. (I feel sorry for that waitress - it was only about 9pm)
We ordered another beer. (not my idea)
We ate something called 'tri tip' beef. (I thinkit was good, I don't remember how I was able to hold the fork and knife...)
I couldn't finish, we left and caught a train. Back to his place.
Wait, wait, wait. Before we got ON the train we ran in to two homeless guys. Ted and Gary. I know their names were Ted and Gary because Ted was, apparently, a graduate of some sort of Dale Carnegie Course. He kept saying, "I'm Ted, he's Gary you're Elsie and he's _______" over and over. We reasoned that this was because he was trying to remember our names. In hindsight, I think it may have been the schizophrenia...
We bought candy - Japanese Candy - from Gary and ate it on the train. Delicious. It was like Starburst, almost.
We got to the train station and called a cab.
I spent the night at a co-worker's house and wore one of his sweaters to work the next day.
It was a psuedo-walk-of-shame.
I was super hungover.
For the first time, at work.
It was ... bad.
If anyone noticed I was wearing his clothes, they didn't say.
They did notice I was ... a little worse for wear, let's say.

Elsie P

PS - As the day goes on, I am remembering more and more about last night...good thing or bad?

The BEST Chocolate Cupcakes You'll Ever Have!

Ingredients

• 2 cups flour
• 2 cups sugar
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 4 heaping Tbls cocoa
• 3/4 cup butter
• 1 cup boiling water
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Directions

1. Combine flour, sugar and salt in a bowl. Set aside
2. Melt butter on the stove on medium heat. Add Cocoa and stir to combine. Add water and pour over flour mixture
3. In a measuring cup, mix together the buttermilk, eggs, baking soda and vanilla extract. Add to the flour/cocoa mixture.
4. Mix well and pour in to sheet cake pan/muffin cups/round pans; bake for 20 mins at 350 degrees F

The BEST Frosting You'll Ever Have!

Trust me, this is a good one! Don't be skeptical!!

Ingredients
5 Tbls Flour
1 cup Milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup white sugar
1 cup butter

(I know what you're thinking, flour? In Frosting!?)

Directions

1. Pour 1 cup of milk in to saucepan; add 5 Tbls flour and whisk to combine. Place over medium heat, whisking as the mixture thickens. Remove from heat when mixture resembles wallpaper paste. (that's very thick, if you've never wall-papered before)
2. COOL THE MIXTURE COMPLETELY (this is a very important step, in case you couldn't tell by the caps lock)
3. Add 1 tsp vanilla to the wall-paper paste flour mixture.
4. Place 1 cup of butter (at room temp) in bowl of mixer. Beat slightly. Add 1 cup sugar and whip until light and fluffy. 
5. Add the cooled wall-paper paste flour mixture and whip until consistency of whip cream. (I did this on speed 5 for 20 seconds, scraped down the sides and then beat on speed 7 for about 45 seconds)
6. Refrigerate 1 hour and spread on the delicious cupcakes (recipe below)

Stuff you learn as a kid.

Let's talk about stuff you learn when you're a kid.

1. When you take a shower, you either open the door or turn on the fan. (and when you're done, you turn the fan on for at least 15 minutes to avoid moisture issues) 
2. When you finish with the toothpaste/deodorant/lotion you put the cap back on.
3. After you use something in the shower, you put it back where you picked it up from.
4. When you're done with your towel, you hang it up.
5. Once you're finished supper, you put your dishes in the sink/dishwasher.
6. Upon entering the house, you remove your shoes...and place them out of the way of the door.
7. As you leave a room, turn off the light!
8. If you're done with your cup, put it in the dishwasher/sink.

Remember this stuff??

Cowboy, Take Me Away...

Last night, I  had the strangest/best dream I have had in a long time.
Apparently, speaking someone's name several days before floats them to the front of your subconscious. Also, it would appear that I have spent a little too much time on this website. But really? What does it matter when in your dream there are three wonderful cowboys, one that wants to 'court' you, a leap from danger into a huge pile of straw and the words "sweetheart" and "darlin" in abundance? Bliss, I tell you, bliss.
So I have to wonder, both to myself and aloud, whatever happened to the first cowboy I knew? His name was Isaac and he lived and worked on a cattle farm. He was really a sweet guy - from what I remember - and one of those boys that doesn't mind taking care of and looking out for his girl.
Cowboy, take me away....

Elsie P

PS - Believe it or not, I always thought that my move out West would net me one of two things...a true Western Cowboy or a high paid Oil Tycoon. It's true, I figured I'd end up with one of the two by now. We all know that that didn't happen...

Hot Tub Time Machine

No, I am not talking about the movie. I did not rush out to the theatre in a fit of hysteria to line up and be the first one to see the "film".
I am talking about something a little closer to home. Remember this ?
I woke up last night to the tender sounds of drunken stumbling, jets turning on and vodka being mainlined. Our neighbors had a little hot tub party last night. It was 3am when I heard them. They woke me up twice between 3am and 5am, but I was too sleepy to do anything about it.
Luckily, they kept it down this time.

Bacon, Eggs and Buttercream

You know what I love most about Sunday mornings? The routine.
Every Sunday I get up around 8am (I know, it's the weekend, I should sleep in. But 8am is sleeping in!) and start the day by throwing a load of laundry in the wash. Then I survey the kitchen, what dishes are left from last night? are there beer bottles lying around? do we have bread? eggs? bacon? am I going to bake today? Once I have made my mental list, I wash up any of the dishes that are there, don a pair of yoga pants, a fleece zip up and head to the grocery store.
Usually, by Sunday mornings, we are out of bread and milk. Most Sundays, I am lazy and don't want to bake bread for breakfast so I'll cheat and buy a cheap, $2 loaf from the grocery store.
Today, I was excited to try out a new recipe from P-Dub's kitchen. (If you haven't heard of this blog, you seriously need to check it out. Both recipes I'll share are from her Tasty Kitchen) and I knew I needed a few things from the store. I love Sunday morning shopping. I really should do all my grocery shopping on Sunday mornings because the store opens at 6am and there is never, ever anyone there. AND they have self-checkout, one of my absolute favorite inventions of the last ... 10 years.
I digress, though!
So, I arrive home, change the loads of laundry, fold some towels, put on some coffee and turned on the trashy radio station that plays the songs kids in high school make out to on Friday Nights.
I started by putting the bacon on. In my mind, there is nothing better than slow cooking bacon in a frying pan and subsequently using the grease to fry eggs. YUM CORONARY! Simultaneously, I was whipping up a cake batter that is touted as "The BEST Chocolate Sheet Cake". It was different from other cakes I had made as far as process goes. But I have to say, it is the best chocolate sheet cake I've ever made/had! (I turned it in to cupcakes, btw) I kept laughing and hoping the delicious bacon smell didn't invade my cake batter...though maybe it did and that was why it was so good...no...definitely not. :)
As soon as I had 36 mini-muffin cups filled with batter, I put the eggs on and threw some bread in the toaster. This kitchen was rockin.
The eggs were perfect, the bacon was delicious, the coffee was strong and dark and the whole meal was perfect. At least, I thought so.
Just as I finished breakfast, the timer went off and it was the moment of truth: How did these little suckers turn out?
Answer?
Perfectly.
If you love chocolate cake or cupcakes and the best frosting you've ever had, you have to try these recipes, pilfered from PW's Tasty Kitchen.

Elsie P

PS - I left the camera at work so I'll take/post pics tomorrow.

Boys and their fashion...

So, what do the men in my office talk about? Usually motorcycles, fast cars, modified engines, Tiger Woods, Howard Stern and the NHL.
What are they talking about today?
Who spends the most money on jeans. Seriously. I'm not lying.
The following conversation was overheard just moments ago:

"Are those your $200 jeans?"
"These? No, these are my $60 jeans from Banada Republic"
"Which Banana Republic? I like them"
"The factory store, you been there?"
"I have never owned $200 jeans."
"I owned a pair of $100 jeans once, in ther '90s. They were Levi's"
"Levi's are goooood jeans"
"I love Levi's; they're probably my favorite"
"I think the Wranglers were my favorite jeans ever"
"Where is this Factory store?"

At this point, I stopped listening and started blogging. You have to understand something, I work with engineers in the Oil and Gas industry. They're usually not very concerned about what they're wearing (this is evident if you ever stop by our office on a Wednesday....

Elsie P

ps - I have never owned $200.00 jeans before either...

Sometimes you wanna go...

Let me start this by saying if we're colleagues, I'm sorry.
Wait, that didn't come out right; I don't want ot apologize for being your co-worker, I want to apologize for any offense that may be taken as a result of what I am about to say.
Let me just get a few of things offffff of my chest and I am sure I will feel better.
First of all, don't touch the thermostat. Just don't do it. Why? Well, if think it's cold in the morning and you crank it up to 24 degrees celsius while you go in to a five hour meeting and leave your blinds up so that the sun can bake your office to a nice, coma-inducing 39 degrees!!!!
Second of all, it's not my fault. I didn't hire the contractors, I didn't sign off that the system worked, I had no way of knowing if it would or not. Don't take it out on me. You are all mobile, work from another room that may be cooler. Okay? Ok.
Thirdly, if you have a possible solution, take it up with someone who can do something about it!!

Elsie P

PS - APologies were received this morning for yesterdays short-tempers....

Remember This?!

WELL, All week it's been building up to and surpassing this.

Unfortunately, it would appear that my camera is having a major malfunction and *gasp* doesn't seem to work this morning. I don't know what to do!!

Anyway, I've been up for over an hour cleaning up a mess that exceeded THAT. 

Now I've got to get some newspaper and start wrapping up my dishes to move in TWO WEEKENDS!!

In Transit

Today, I met someone on the train that died, once. And came back to life. Apparently.

Here is his story:

He was driving with a friend in a Mustang.

They were on the Penticton Highway.

Going 165 MPH, they came upon a wall of flames that had occurred because of another crash.

They went through the flames, not knowing what was on the other side.

It was a semi, on the other side.

It cut their car in half.

He went headfirst through the windshield. (there were no scars on his neck/face/hands)

Every blood vessel in his head, shoulders and chest - according to him - should have burst.

They didn't.

And he can still walk.

It's a miracle.

What brought all this on, you want to know?

I'll tell you.

There was a story on the front page of the free newspaper about a baby named Isaiah.

Here is his story:

Baby Isaiah was born in Rocky Mountain House in October, 2009.

He suffered sever brain damage after his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, depriving him of oxygen.

After being on life support for several months, Docs were ready to pull the plug Jan 20.

The parents went to court. A judge agreed to grant them time for a second opinion.

The second opinion was the same as the first: Baby Isaiah had no brain activity.

Yesterday, they removed the ventilator; Isaiah was unable to breathe on his own.

I had made the comment to a colleague whom was on the train with me, that if he was meant to be alive, he would be able to live without the aid of machines.

That's when Miracle Man piped up.

Oh the people you meet on the train....

Elsie P

PS - I should probably add this man resembled Emile Hirsch in Into the Wild around hour 1.5...

Sewing Emergency II

Sewing 911, what's your emergency? That's how I am answering my phone from now on when a certain call display pops up a certain number from a certain person.
Folks, we had another emergency last night.
It was a strange one, and suffice to say, I don't know how much help I was ...
The project was a quilt for a certain baby shower this weekend.
The emergency was a bunching of thread -- the invisible almost-like-fishing-line-which-would-have-been-cheaper -- on only one of the lines down the quilt.
My suggestions:
1. Rip it out
    Not a viable solution because, as I was told, It's INVISIBLE THREAD you can't see the stitches to rip them out.
2. Put a backing on it
   This became the best solution, though the logistics were a little fuzzy.
3. Call Mum.
   Not a viable solution because mum went AWOL last night and refused to take calls from either of us (My guess is she was hypnotized by Seacrest and didn't want to be interrupted)
I have never sewn with the invisible thread and it was difficult to understand (especially after two beers) that you couldn't find the stitch on the backside of it. But, well, duh it's invisible...
So, sadly, I was of no help. :(

Elsie P

PS - Further to that little fiasco, the sewing demons (kin to the typo demon) decide they would like to keep warm under the quilt and thus sewed it TO the sewing machine...you just can't win...

Sewing Emergency

I received a frantic phonecall yesterday at work. It was the middle of the day and highly unusual for her to call and not e-mail.
When I answered the phone, we barely had a the hellos out of the way before she conveyed her reason for calling.
"I have a sewing emergency."
Not going to lie, the first thought that came to my mind was, Why aren't you calling mom? but I was thrilled to be the top of the phone tree for sewing emergencies.
"Lay it on me," I said, "Did you blow up the machine? Is it smoking or on fire?"
I asked those questions first because if the answer was "yes" I knew the problem was beyond me.
She laid out the problem for me - short version is that the spool of thread she had been told to purchase was gargantuan and thus did not fit on her sewing machine spindle and she did not have an empty normal person spool to re-spool the giant on to - and the first thing I asked her was "Did you Google?"
I'll admit, I had only one solution for her: Re-spool the thread. We tried that (by we I mean she, but I offered an excellent level of moral support over the phone while googling to see what other people have done in this emergency.) I found a solution, a spindle adaptor. But upon further investigation this proved to be something you'd find if you were in the proximity of someone with plumbers butt...no good.
She told me that solution would have to be able to be fixed by one of three stores: Mac's Milk, A&P or the Library.
Easy.
Go to the library and find this book: Sewing 911.
Not a viable solution, apparently. Need something a little more immediate.
After a few false starts - and several INGENIOUS suggestions by moi, such as create a spindle out of papier mache - I could not find the solution she was looking for...aside from picking up one of these for future use:

This is what I came up with:
1. Hand wind the thread on to a bobbin, fit the bobbin on to your machine and use it for the main spool.
           This did not work because apparently, the bobbins she bought were spy-quality and self-destructing
2. Hand stitch the item you are preparing.
           This did not work because the amount of hand stitching would have caused carpal tunnel in anyone
3. Call Mum.
           This proved to be the most appropriate solution.

So tell me, what did you wind up doing? What would you do?

Elsie P

PS - I have it on good authority that the options Mum presented were similar to mine. WIN!!

Income Tax Sucks.

So, there is nothing more heart-palpitation inducing than opening your mailbox and finding not one, not two but THREE notices from the CRA. (For those fans outside of Canada that's the Canada Revenue Agency... likened to the IRS in the US of A)
What could the CRA be sending me?
My Netfile code? Nope already got that.
A cheque!? YA RIGHT.
Reassessment?? Yes.
For 2006 and 2007.
Great.
To top it off, they are telling me that I mis-filed those two tax years and that I actually owed them more than the originally assessed.
Okay, not a huge deal right?
Wrong.
Not only are they reassessing my total owing, they are charging me a late payment fee.
And also an interest amount on the balance un-paid.
For Heaven's Sake!

Elsie P

PS - Total Damage?? $2588.38

In Transit

Last night's train ride was nothing short of eventful.
It all began when I attempted to board the train and was squeezed out by a couple who were rushing to get seats. I hate non-commuters.
It continued with the woman behind me who rammed her child's stroller in to the backs of my heels. Not once, not twice, but three times. I was fuming. Absolutely steaming.
I hate non-commuters.
As the train filled up at the next station, a woman in a long, white, puffy coat took a standing room only spot right beside me. That sounds fine, right? Wrong. Her ass was pressed against my shoulder. And to make matters worse, she kept shifting from foot to foot, rubbing her bum - which I will add felt quite firm - back and forth in the process.
I hate non-commuters.
I looked up from my book straight in to the big, beautiful eyes of the child that was no longer occupying the offending stroller. With a six toothed smile, all was instantly forgiven. The thoughts of  a nice,  juicy, phlegm filled cough aimed in the general direction of her four year-old were erased.
I love babies.

Elsie P

PS - As I was lost in those baby-browns - haha - I noticed a few guys in their mid twenties staring wistfully at my shoulder.

In Transit

One of my favorite games to play in the morning - especially on a Monday morning - is the Going To or Coming From game. Basically, you spot people and decide whether they were going home to get ready for work or if the were coming from home to go to work. Dead giveaways are:

Smeared mascara/eye makeup

Bloodshot I've-been-up-all-night-drinking Eyes

Nylons with runs in them

Carrying their high heels and standing in stocking feet

Swaying and lurching when the train is stopped

Anything that was designed to look better in dim light.

Bar clothes.

This morning, as I was standing on the platform waiting for my second train to come in, I noticed a rather pretty girl standing, swaying, looking absolutely immaculate...hair that was done up, more eyeliner than I thought as possible for 7:37am on a Monday, a long, cream colored coat (the kind you wouldn't wear everyday for fear it would get dirty) and a black satin clutch. I couldn't see her shoes or what was under the jacket (it must have been short, whatever it was) and she had this over sized flower in her hair. I had the overwhelming feeling that if Lady Gaga started an Army, it would look like this girl.

Elsie P

PS - I have (knock on wood) yet to do the walk of shame on the train....

Our Garage

Here's the Before shots of our garage. I should have taken a "during" shot 'cause I cleaned a lot of that shit out! But then it got destroyed again. On the plus side, we found some guy with a truck who came and hauled away most of the garbage - just the big stuff we'd have to get rid of ...

Ever wonder why you were never invited??

THIS is why.
I have a full time job and I just don't want to spend every moment of my time off taking care of this crap. So, the house is always a disaster until Sat when I am off and have a chance to clean it.
For those of you who know me, you know that I have a ... well, let's call him "another" half. You could also call him lazy, mess maker...the list goes on. Short version of the story? He hasn't had a full time job since September (that's  coming up on 6 mos for my math challenged readers) and apparently, he's too busy during hte 5 days a week, 24/hrs a day he's at home, to clean up after himself. SHEESH!

Here are the Before (Which, by the way, don't even BEGIN to convey
how messy and gross and SMELLY this place was ... yuck!!
I think the smell, more than anything was the nasty part):

And the After:

In Transit

So every morning I have to change trains downtown. There is a beautiful, brand new platform for me to get off on, stroll the length of and subsequently await the next train on. I like to kill time, so I will usually sit in one of the cars in the back so I can walk the whole length of the platform.
The other day, in doing so, I noticed an M/F - You Choose sitting in one of the shelters on the platform. (Sidebar - MF You Choose is a game I play with my sisters, it stands for Male/Femal - You Choose...so for example, if you were to see Johnny Weir walking down the street you might say, MF - You choose. Or the Coach of the Canadian Women's Olympic Gold medal winning hockey team) I couldn't help but notice this MF because it had its finger so far up its nose it was ridiculous. It didn't look homeless, but it also didn't look like it was off to work like the rest of the commuters. I could not get over how shamelessly it was digging around. My mind began to wander...was it digging for a rock of cocaine it had inadvertantly snorted last night? Was there something like a crayon, pea or almond stuck there? Was it hungry!? My stomach lurched at the last thought; it wasn't until I was on the other side of it, looking back the way I came to see if the train was near that I really nearly lost my breakfast. It was blowing its nose in to its bare hands and then shaking the snot off, sending it through the air to land with a loud thwack on the pavement. Vurp inducing, let me tell you!!
As if that wasn't bad enough, it wound up on my train and as we were pulling in to the station asked for everyone's attention. (At this point, I was reasonably sure it was a she, not what I would have guessed initially) She proceeded to ask everyone for money, explaining she wasn't a pan handler but that she got locked out of her house. And she was really hungry. Could we all pitch in so she could get a breakfast sandwich from somewhere? It's only $2 for one. And if she doesn't eat she's going to lose her job. She will certainly almost lose her job if she doesn't start eating breakfast and she would like us to help avoid that.
Some people. I suppose I should mention that she'd gotten up and was about 3/4 of an inch from my face. Unpleasant.

Elsie P

PS - I guess she was looking for money up there in her nasal cavity...

Good Read

I just finished reading Memoirs of A Geisha this morning.

It was absolutely beautiful. I adored it. The writing was fluid and expressive, the story was wonderful and the insight in to the secret life of a popular Geisha in the 1940's 50's and 60's was amazing.

I highly recommend it to anyone who loves beautiful stories and has an interest in other cultures.

Now I am going to rent the movie, which I hear lives up to the literary counterpart.

I also have a book on hold at the library written by the Geisha that was interviewed for the book.

Elsie P

ps - Movie review to follow!