A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

I Rise & Grieve - With Repeated Pleasure
Saturday, May 16, 2015

Benjamin Perrot & Jeffrey Thompson


Of the French group La Rêveuse which includes the marvelously theatrical  American tenor Jeffrey Thompson I wrote about here last March when they were in Vancouver for an Early Music Vancouver concert.

In April I was driving my Malibu to Portland on my way to photograph baroque violinist Monica Hugget. In my car’s sound system I was playing a La Rêveuse CD dedicated entirely to English composer Henry Lawes. It was a second experience which lacked (a tad) the physical presence of the four performers. Luckily with a combination of memory and imagination they were almost with me in my car. In reality since I don't have a sunroof my Malibu could not  have possibly accommodated Benjamin Perrot long-necked theorbo.

At age 72 you would think that I would  be freed of that youthful desire to wear out 45 rpm singles (Diana!), or a slightly more mature over and over repetition of Stan Getz playing Desafinado with Charlie Byrd. And, slightly more recently, humming Nick Lowe’s Cruel to Be Kind while pruning my roses in March. But that has not been the case. Today after my wife, daughter Hilary and granddaughter Lauren finished seeing Nicolas Roeg’s 1973 film Don’t Look Now (set in Venice) and a beautiful documentary on the American Ballet Theatre on PBS I took mother and daughter home. Playing in the car, over and over was track 6, Henry Lawes' I rise and grieve.

I felt as if I were a young man full of desire, romance and exuberance although you might note that the lyrics that accompany the haunting melody are not exactly happy.

On the way we picked up my other granddaughter Rebecca who inquired if the singer was singing in German. It was Lauren who said, “Didn’t you hear him say 'I rise and grieve, I walk and see my sorrow?'”

You can never tell if the American Ballet Theatre documentary or Henry Lawes as performed by La Rêveuse will leave a lasting impression on my two granddaughters. I can only hope that some day, before they are 72, that they, too, will find the excitement of that song, one that is indelible in my memory.

I find it almost refreshing to point out that there is no YouTube version of the song so if anybody who reads this is curious the only solution is to buy the CD. Mirare Mir 177.


I Rise And Grieve -  Henry Lawes (5 December 1595 – 21 October 1662)

I rise and grieve

I rise and grieve,

I walk and see my sorrow,

I eat, I live

Perchance not till tomorrow.

I lay me down to rest and then again

I rise, I walk, I feed and lie in pain

Mend thou my state

O Jove, I thee implore,

Or end by fate

What thou hast made before.



If I but close

The covers of my sight,

Then slumb’ring woes

With dreams my sleeps affright;

And if awake I seek to ease my mind,

Some new bred cares my troubled

thoughts do find.

Mend thou my state

O Jove, I thee implore,

Or end by fate

What thou hast made before.



Or if it be

Thy will I should endure

What unto me

Is almost past recure,

Give me but strength to undergo

those pains

Which like a torrent runs through my veins;

Or mend my state,

Which as my days do fade;

Or end by fate

What thou before hast made.

Manuscript of I rise and grieve in Henry Lawes' hand



A Lady Red
Friday, May 15, 2015


Top left & right Rosa 'Baron Girod de l'Ain, centre top and bottom Rosa 'Munstead Wood' bottom left Rosa 'Souvenir de Docteur Jamaine'



A LADY red upon the hill        
Her annual secret keeps;        
A lady white within the field   
In placid lily sleeps!       
 
The tidy breezes with their brooms          
Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who may expected he?  
 
The neighbors do not yet suspect!   
The woods exchange a smile—                  
Orchard, and buttercup, and bird—  
In such a little while!     
 
And yet how still the landscape stands,     
How nonchalant the wood,     
As if the resurrection            
Were nothing very odd!

Emily Dickinson

Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html


http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html




Shelina - May 14 2015
Thursday, May 14, 2015







Les Choses Sont Contre Nous
Wednesday, May 13, 2015



Rosa 'Fair Bianca' May 12 2015

Around 1970 Rosemary and I (and daughter Ale) were living in a Mexico City outskirts colonia called Arboledas. From my mother, who was living in Veracruz we inherited her big and very dumb boxer called Antonio. He had a tongue so long (longer than yours Gene Simmons) that he could not close his mouth without leaving part of the tongue outside.

We had a back garden and a patio and we were much too young and stupid to give Antonio good walks. I would call out for him to tell him dinner was served, “Antonio, Antonio!” About a year later just before we had to put him down as he was old and sick a few of my neighbours asked me if I had a son or a student living with us called Antonio as they had never ever seen him.

Antonio in Veracruz
We went to the Mexico City Pound/shelter where they injected our poor Antonio. Rosemary was so sad that we decided to bring home then and there another dog. We went to the dog cage and all the dogs began to bark at us. I thought they were trying to tell us (individually), “Take me home.”  A forlorn gray mutt who may had some terrier in her (not very pretty) just stared at us. So we made our choice and brought Mouche (because she was gray/black and almost as ugly as a fly). She was a spirited dog but gentle with Ale (around 3) who pulled her tail. She never snapped back. Because we were young a stupid we did not know that one should spay a bitch. This meant that our free ranging mutt had at least three litters of puppies that I could never get rid of. Nobody wanted them. It was my job to drown them. This was a terrible action on my part and I not only suffered doing this but I had to suffer the sad expression on Mouche's face. I had nightmares. When we left Mexico City for Vancouver in 1975 we gave Mouche to my compadre (Ale’s godfather) Andrew Taylor who fussed over her and she finally died a very happy and spayed bitch. 

Mouche & Alexandra Elizabeth in Arboledas Mexico

A few weeks ago I went to Stong’s Groceries on Dunbar where my daughter Hilary works in the one-person health & wellness department. On that day they had plants that were leftover from their plant sale a few days before. I was on the lookout for a bougainvillea for Rosemary (which she was going to give as gift to our Lillooet teacher daughter, Ale. There was no bougainvillea but there were many very good plants. I looked at them and I was thrown back to the dog pound cage in Mexico City in 1970. The plants were silently beckoning to me, “Take me home.” Some of the more selfless ones were saying, “Take us home.” I would have had I been rich. I told Hilary about my feeling and she immediately told me four words that have affected me deeply now for weeks, “Because they are alive.”

As a little boy about five I remember taking a tub bath in our Buenos Aires home on Melián Street. I remember that I had a thimble-sized puppet like little man. He went down the drain and I cried for hours. The little man was alive to me. He was part of me and I felt very sad that he would be somewhere, very cold, dark and wet, without me to take care for him. In many ways most of my personal (material) possessions have been like that little guy since.

I have 4000 books and more cameras (in this digital age, since my cameras have been well used they would be seen as junk) than anybody who is not a collector could possibly have. I have 11 or 12 four-drawer metal cabinets with negatives, slides and prints since I started shooting in the late 50s. Many of those pictures represent and era of politicians, actor, directors, criminals, etc of Vancouver.

In some way they are all alive to me. I am constantly reminded of this fact by the curious and not too well known theory of resistentialism. Inanimate objects (we as humans perceive them as such) do not understand that they are indeed animate. We mistreat them, throw them around and generally do not appreciate how they make our life easier. My cameras break when they shouldn’t. My flash chords are constantly in knots and trip over black extension chords. These objects do not like to be mistreated so they revolt.

I should know better. In 1955 Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C., who taught me religion with a smattering of philosophy and theology, told us that in the scheme of things from atoms to humans there was an upwards spiral towards consciousness. He was simply putting it in a simpler way than Teilhard de Chardin does in his Phenomenon of Man. The upward sequence is something like this, atom, molecule, cell, virus, amoeba, invertebrate, vertebrate to mammal and finally to man. And it did not stop there. He explained that man was part spirit and part body. A dog or cat had a limited amount of spirit but probably no self-awareness. From Brother Edwin went to angels, all spirit but no body to the ultimate and all-spirit God.

My 18-year-old cat looks at stares at me as she lies on my legs when I am in bed. I imagine (?) intelligence and wonder if she knows who she is and what I am. As she meows (constantly) for food and attention I think she is telling me, “Alex, pay attention to me. I will not be around much longer, let’s make the best of it while we can.”

Casi-Casi, Rosemary’s 18-pounder cat is sweet, easygoing and mellow. I can feel not only Rosemary’s stress but my own dissipate as we hold him. Why cannot more humans be like Casi-Casi?

The encroaching large trees from our neighbour’s house (they rent so they would never consider any pruning) are affecting my beloved roses. They not only need light but they need sun. They are withering away very much the way I feel my body is going. We are in this decline together.

People ask me what my secret for scanning my roses might be. Invariably I tell them, “I talk to them and they talk to me back.” What I really mean is that I live with them every day and I observe them and I know just when to snip one or two to suspend over my scanner.

If you have a garden it is mandatory to walk it every day. You might observe weeds or pests that have to be dealt with if your friends are to do well and be (feel?) comfortable in the garden.

It is inevitable that the roses (my hostas do just fine in the shade, but would do better with more light) will say goodbye. On some days I wonder who will go first they or their owner.

But all this is becoming moot as our health and our constant bathroom leaks and problems make it ever more difficult and expensive to remain in our home since 1986.

We live in an area where for the last 20 years demolitions have been the norm. These demolitions usually begin with the chain sawing of trees. It does not take too much imagination to hear the groans of the trees. The terrible noise of the cranes smashing the houses (in some cases kitchen appliances, bathtubs, etc are part of demolition noise) makes Casi-Casi and Plata run into the house.

For me a house is more than a shelter. Even cave dwellers decorated the walls of their homes. For me a house is a living thing. In it children have been conceived and born. People have died in them. People have had dreams and made plans for the future in them. I believe in some sort of ghost that will occupy a house once the tenant is gone. I can still feel or imagine Mrs. Young who had a stroke on our kitchen floor and somehow survived, sold the house and moved to Toronto.

Can ghosts survive demolitions?

Twenty years ago the thought that our house would be demolished if we sold it was a problem always in our mind. Now our feeling is that we know it will go for and be replaced by energy efficient walls and windows and radiant heated floors. We know that. We also know that once we leave we will not look back or ever return. The demolition has already happened. It is the moving that soon will have to begin. Rosemary and I look at each other. We know this.

About a week ago one of the first roses of the season was my white English Rose, Rosa ‘Fair Bianca’. She is a difficult rose to grow in my shady garden. Her scent, the English call it myrrh, resembles a complex combination of Pernod, lemon, whipped cream and magnolia soap. I could in my memory (it is very good for scent) smell exactly as she did when I brought my nose to her.

Last year my Rosa sericea subsp. omeiensis formapteracantha +-(isn’t that grand sounding?) was a vigorous rose that became one of the best images in last year’s Early Music Vancouver Calendar. It promoted Handel’s Il Trionfo del Tempo. By late summer the huge branches began to wither (for no reason that I could see). I cut the branches off until by late the rose (one of its trunks was three inches wide) was no more. In the beginning of winter shoots came up from the ground, but they, too died. It was about this time that Robin Denning told me that the parent plant (from whence mine came) had also died. If this is the case then this rose (a rare species rose) is probably extinct in our province.

We are looking at houses which are being nicely found by Tim Turner. We are ambivalent. But leaks are multiplying and Rosemary know that the opening of our garden in June for the Vancouver Rose Society will be the last one. If we leave by late fall, many of our plants might go to a couple of botanical gardens that might (just might) want them

The idea of having a garage sale depresses me. Rosemary has suggested we rent a bin and chuck what we don’t want into it.


But there is one little hitch Rosa sericea subsp. omeiensis forma pteracantha now has a little vigorous shoot. What are we to do with our Lazarus? Is it communicating something?

There is one comfort. Wherever we go, Casi-Casi and Plata (if she survives the year) will be with us. And every rose in my garden is represented in hard copy (digital that is) scans that preserve them in their prime as they were.



My Home Has Space - Sunday Afternoon At Q7
Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Young Choreographers' Showcase - Mentor Crystal Pite - Arts Umbrella Dance Company May 10 2015

Artemis Gordon

Arty & Mentor Crystal Pite


Mentor - Crystal Pite

Choreographers - Andrew Haydock, Ria Girard, Misa Lucyshyn, Albert Galindo, Jayson Syrette & Haley Heckerthorn






























































































Some may not know that if you click on any image once and then again the photo is greatly enlarged.
The  Editors

Rear Window - The entering takes away 
I was there - Arts Umbrella Sunday dance series
Arts Umbrella Dance Company and Ballet Kelowna  teach old dog new tricks
Blurs at Arts Umbrella Q7 February 22 2015
Untitled - Choreography: Lesley Telford - Arts Umbrella Dance Company
Mixed Nuts for an alternative Vancouver Christmas 
The men/boys of the Arts Umbrella Dance Company
Swirls at the Arts Umbrella Dance Company 
A fine Sunday afternoon with the Arts Umbrella Dance Company 
A Ballerina, The Répétiteur & Snow White 
Arty Gordon's Audis 
Fiat Lux at Cedar Lake 
Acacia Schachte - that exquisite singularity 
Arts Umbrella - a conspiracy to create stellar youth 
Lust & sexual longing, a touch of profanity, all in good taste 
Becoming invisible in the presence of good dance 
Dances for the Small Stage - Whimsy, gravitas, humour, delight 
Emily Molnar - Crystal Pite - Einsteinian Space and Time 
The Difference Engine 
Mascall's The White Spider - The Brutal Telling Retold
Arts Umbrella Dance Company - that deep bench 
The Assistant 
Know where you are going and go there 
Lauri Stallings - From here to there and back for a while
Emily Molnar's smile, Ballet BC and the Ghost of Jones Henry 
Ballet BC, Seriously Funny (Donald Sales) & Funny But Serious (Simone Orlando)
Seeping Blood from the Paris Opera Ballet 
Emily Molnar - long live the queen 
Three Muses and four young men 
My Debt to Ballet BC - an apologist's view
Dancing on the Edge with Lou Reed 
Arts Umbrella - essentially pure dance
Edmond Kilpatrick - the man who loved women
Andrea Hodge - the essential ballerina 
The delights of Dancers Dancing - Judith Garay and Desireé Dunbar 
Four Men for the Four Seasons 
Alison Denham - taped together - almond butter toast 
Aldous Huxley, Simone Orlando and Lilly the Cat 
Bullfighters and male ballet dancers, Paco Camino and Miroslav Zydowicz 
Karissa Berry, Short, Compact and Wonderful 
Ballet BC and Acacia Schachte



     

Previous Posts
Juan Manuel Sánchez - Maestro

Las Cuartetas - Las Violetas & La Posada

The Littlest Heathen Grows Up

Those Underappreciated Spring Rhododendrons

Cassini's Swan Dive & Cassini the Swan

La Modestine Stands Up & Sits Down

Equisetum - Clarinets & Logarithms

Vertical Influences - Patín del Diablo

Pontius Pilate's Wife & Brigid Bazlen

Pascua 2017



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1/23/11 - 1/30/11

1/30/11 - 2/6/11

2/6/11 - 2/13/11

2/13/11 - 2/20/11

2/20/11 - 2/27/11

2/27/11 - 3/6/11

3/6/11 - 3/13/11

3/13/11 - 3/20/11

3/20/11 - 3/27/11

3/27/11 - 4/3/11

4/3/11 - 4/10/11

4/10/11 - 4/17/11

4/17/11 - 4/24/11

4/24/11 - 5/1/11

5/1/11 - 5/8/11

5/8/11 - 5/15/11

5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

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8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

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6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

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9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17