verainvancouver@gmail.com

  • To The Half-Russian, With Love

    To The Half-Russian, With Love

    That’s the only existing picture of Victor Bonderoff I could find online; I have none of my own. This had to be the 70s. Or maybe it’s the 80s. I really don’t know. I hadn’t thought about Victor in several years.  Our last bit of communication was back in the summer of 2018, and it…

  • Marching through Canada’s shame.

    Marching through Canada’s shame.

    It’s not dangerous, really.  It’s not the sort of place you want to go–and, in fact, should be avoided as much as possible–but you’re not really at much risk.  If anything violent does happen to an innocent pedestrian or local employee, it’s news-worthy: it’ll be reported endlessly by the six o’clock talking heads, or plastered…

  • it’s cat time: the dramatic sequel (or, “the sun’ll come out tomorrow”)

    it’s cat time: the dramatic sequel (or, “the sun’ll come out tomorrow”)

    That’s a picture of sweet little orphan Annie about two days after I adopted her.  How about that li’l ragamuffin with the all-knowing owl eyes, like two brand-new polished marbles?  She’s now the floofiest, most spoiled little chonker (at the vet two Saturdays ago, the first thing the doc said was “She’s pudgy,” which hurt…

  • okay: it’s cat time.

    okay: it’s cat time.

    I’ve written about rehab, about ESL (which, truthfully, is going to go on forever), written about my bruised ass, written about the weather. But now, it’s time to write about Vancouver. And cats. Specifically, my cat.  It was exactly ten years ago, 2014 to be sure, and I was living in a ground-floor flat with my then-boyfriend, Charles,…