Fa la la la la

SO! 'Tis almost the season to be jolly, thrifty, spendy, and all that. If I were to rank holidays in terms of their importance and excitement level in my household, I would have to rank them accordingly:

- Christmas
- Great Glebe Garage Sale
- Halloween
- Victoria Day weekend
- Canada Day weekend
- August long weekend
- Labour day
- Easter
- Thanksgiving
- New Year's

.... and so on to all of the other holidays from other cultures that we do not celebrate in our home, which do not come with government holidays (i.e. St. Patrick's Day. ha ha ha).

The Great Glebe Garage sale happens the fourth Saturday of every May, and it is the most fabulous thing ever. When I was young, I would meet cool, hip, 'adults' who would tell me about the most interesting amazing things they managed to buy at the GGGS. I always wanted to go. But I was a country kid, and the GGGS happens in the city, so without wheels or adult supervision I was unable to see it, or to even fathom the giganticness and fabulosity of the event.

Basically, the Glebe is a neat area of Ottawa filled with residential homes that are a mix of upwardly mobile young families, students, and older people who have been living there for ages and are also therefore upwardly mobile. It's not cheap, let's say. People have nice gardens and there are a lot of individuals who seem to travel the world a lot. The houses are mostly old, and cool, and stately, and for the most part very well maintained. Bank street is a major artery that runs through the area, and the Glebe section of it has become completely gentrified with interesting little knicknack shops, pubs, knitting stores, bookstores, Starbucks, organic bakeries, restaurants, etc. You get the picture.

On this one Saturday of the year, all the residents empty out their basements and garages and put their stuff all out on the lawns to form one massive garage sale that spans about 60 city blocks. To put it into perspective, when we go each year, we are only able to see about 2o% of it in 6 hours of solid walking. Bank street businesses all have sidewalk sales, and the only way to travel around is by foot, it's all so busy. If you haven't gotten a parking spot on the street by 7:30 a.m., you won't, even though the official start time is 9:00.

It's like a big county fair, urban market, or bazaar. All of the streetmeat vendors are out, all of the buskers are around, there is a Dixieland jazz band made up of very talented old-timers that plays on a front porch every year, gathering huge crowds, and every kid who plays the violin or cello is out on the front lawn with an open case for donations. Little ones set up lemonade stands and sell their mom's overpriced cookies, and all of the local churches fill their parking lots and front yards with tables that out-of-neighborhooders can rent. People with gardens, who have necessarily done their spring perennial-dividing and tomato-starting, sell the plants and herbs that you can see flourishing in their yards. The ATMs are empty by 10 a.m. You have to wait in line for 30 minutes to get a Starbucks, if you are so inclined. On a sunny day, it feels like the most amazing place in the world.

If you are sitting there thinking "well Gennyland must just like to shop," consider this: it's my husband's favourite day of the year. He's mental for it. The day after the GGGS, he's already making a list of stuff to look for at the next year's sale.

Here is a partial list of things we have bought at the GGGS in past years:

- African straw basket that stores our kindling;
- Moroccan lantern/light fixture that I haven't yet installed anywhere, but which the dog likes to carry around in her mouth;
- Anton Pieck framed relief picture;
- Set of left-handed golf clubs for $10. I am right-handed. I re-sold them for $20;
- Brand-new camping cot;
- Book of retro cottage/cabin designs, which we consult more often than you might guess;
- My everyday set of '70s flowered pots and pans;
- Miscellaneous perennials which have now completely integrated into my garden. Includes silver ferns;
- An old turntable, which was free, because it doesn't work;
- Another black cat for my ceramic black cat collection;
- Many many old and new fishing lures (hubby's);
- Antique 'Urine Sample' bottle, which sits on the bathroom vanity;
- Roof racks that didn't come with their key, or even fit our car;
- set of 6 'wrought iron' sea creatures;
- antique galvanized tin bucket that I use as a planter in the summer;
- a 1980's video camera which takes VHS tapes. It's humungous, but hubby wanted to try making his own fishing show (sigh).

It's our annual opportunity to acquire eclectic objects for our home and garden. This year, however, I've gotten hard-ass about it. I've told hubby that if we want to go to town at the GGGS as we have in previous years, we have to first spend a day cleaning out the basement and throwing some of our current junk away. We have no more room to store camping cots, left-handed golf clubs, turntables that don't work and roof racks that are useless to us. We have yet to tackle this tossing of the junk, but I feel confident that we will have the chance sometime in the next 22 days. I'm thinking we could probably lose the plastic outdoor furniture that's been under the deck for 6 years, the headboard that we found in the garbage which doesn't fit any of our beds, the used-outdoors rug that's been mouldy and rolled up in the corner of the basement for 5 years, OR the 1950's fridge that occupies the middle section of my laundry area, which when we moved in contained only a rusted old pick-axe.

Just sayin'.

So, the GGGS kicks off the summer for us. It's the first chance to wear shorts in public and wear sunscreen for the day. I have to save up my coins and find myself a decent fannypack (when did I ever think I'd hear myself say/write that?) I'm off to make myself a list of things to look for.

What a difference a week makes

Hey everybody! I went on vacation last week!

One would not naturally assume that when one takes a vacation to British Columbia in mid-late April, one would experience a snowstorm. But I guess that's Canada for ya. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it was about +27 degrees and tropical, so I came back to this:

And, more importantly, this:

The cat's not dead, he's just lazy. Looking at this photo makes me realize that my black cat's not as black as I always thought he was. Huh. Like a panther. Do you know that they're actually spotted?

Anyway, the vacation was good, but back home all the snow was melting and the garden was growing. When we returned, I was able to rake out all the dead stuff and get a move on outside, but gardening with a puppy is challenging, especially when the hubby's out fishing for the weekend. Being a single parent is hard.

But Rosie turned a new leaf while we were away. My parents had her, and had a wonderful time. We almost didn't get her back. Apparently she's developed a taste for running around in swamps and eating rawhides, which are pretty harmless habits. Also, she experienced being tied up for the day, and she was ok with it. They had lots of playtime and the weather was great, and she slept a lot during her stay. Now that we've got her back, she's all mature and stuff. She doesn't bite us anymore, and she's more mellow. We can put her to bed earlier, and just turn out all the lights and she's fine. This morning I also noticed that she's lost some of her baby teeth. I'm sad. My baby's growing up. She had her final shots on Saturday, and graduated from Puppy K (not with flying colours but that's just as well. Probably my fault), and she weighs 32.6 lbs. And now she is losing her teeth.

She still attacks the cat really hard - I'm not sure when or if that will pass, but I am ready anytime. It's very stressful. They're better outside, but inside it's total chaos. My poor cat's fur is always crusty around the neck and ears area.

In the garden, the bulbs are up though I am a bit disappointed - I think I may have lost some over the winter because I could swear that I had waaaay more tulips planted than what I see. Like I should have in the neighborhood of 50, and I only see about 20. Perhaps some of them aren't really up yet.

The perennials were all poking their heads up even through the snow, so I can now also see where things didn't come back. One of these days I will reconcile myself to the now-irrefutable fact that I cannot grow artichokes. It makes me sad. Not that I love eating them, I just think they're fantastic-looking. When I uncovered the buckets full of leaves that I'd covered the artichokes with last fall, all I saw was black mush. I don't think they're coming back.

The perennials are all out at the garden centres now, which is a ton of fun. I want some new things this year, surprise surprise. I think I'd like a few more ornamental grasses for the area around the veggie garden, and some tall red flowers (lobelia?) for the perennial beds and veggie garden areas. I want to attract more hummingbirds. I have a lot of monarda, but I think it might need to be refreshed and spread around. I love me some monarda.

As for the veggie garden, I really have to get a move-on and work it. Luckily, the last few days haven't been great or warm so I have a bit of a grace period, but I have to get the garden composted, turned, and tilled/formed into rows next weekend so I can plant out the onions, beets, lettuce, spinach and other early direct-seeded veggies. The rhubarb is up, and some onions, and all of the garlic that I planted last fall (yay!) and I will have to work around the strawberries, sage, and inevitable cilantro that'll be up before long.

I also have to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about my squash and melons. I'm thinking they'll go at the edges of my perennial beds so they can tumble out and over the lawn. It'll be a mess. I have a great spot at the back of the house but unfortunately it's bordered by railway ties so I can't grow any edibles there. I am wondering about sunlight levels on the west side of my veggie garden, and whether I can make a quickie newspaper garden there for the behemoth plants. Maybe that'll be a plan for next year. This year, I think I will have to improvise.

Tomorrow I'm going to pick up my potoatoes, and bags of shrimp or mushroom compost, and some peat moss. I also should have bought a tie-out for Rosie, so she can be close to me in the veggie garden but ideally not peeing or digging in the soil. Or worse. I will need a new garden gate and I think I am going to go professional this time, and buy something sturdy. She is a lot different than a delicate cat.

I also have to pot up my tomato seedlings, becasue they're enormous and leggy and not looking so hot. I can fix it, but I should act fast. Like tonight. Maybe I'll ask hubby for an hour off of dog duty and do that this evening. Or I'll let her 'help' me outside on the picnic table. Ha. I need to find a spot to harden them off...every year I burn the leaves in the sun, so ideally I need a shady spot out of the wind to start, then gradually bring them into the bright sunlight. They look soft.

The peppers are coming up - a bit slower than the tomatoes but that's not unusual. I also have basil, thai basil, and my "Big Max" pumpkins which have sprouted, and will likely need potting up by tonight as well.

I have to look at the garden plan and plot my time. I also have to be reasonable, because with the dog, I get a lot less done. I do, however, want to buy more fruit trees and plants (blueberries?), and this year, I will probably part ways with the old plum tree. I'll wait until it blooms though - it's so pretty.

(Sigh). How can something so enjoyable also be so stressful!? I need another vacation.

Leaving on a jet plane.

On Friday, despite it being kind of a busy time at work, the weather taking a turn for much better at home, and my desperate fear of flying, hubby and I are leaving for a week-long vacation in BC.

We booked this trip way before Rosie was a twinkle in our eyes, so there are some canine logistics to be worked out. Turns out, Rosie doesn't pack light. I need to gather up her crate, her food, her bed, her dishes, her many toys, her leashes, etc., etc., pack it up and take it, along with the dog, to my parents' place, where she will be pampered for a week (I hope). I'm sad to be leaving her, and will miss her terribly, but on the other hand I am looking forward to a week of doing whatever we want whenever we want and, especially, sleeping in. I intend to sleep a lot.

Rosie's becoming quite the little lady now. She's biting me a lot less (though this morning was still a bit rough) so my hands are healing up nicely. She is responding to the squirt bottle training technique we adopted out of desperation, which we use only when she's going nuts on the cat or biting us. Now, sometimes she will calm down when we just hold the spray bottle. Sometimes she licks it. Maybe it won't be effective for very long but for now Loki's appreciating the reprieve.

She has become a real dog. It's funny; one minute she's a tiny delicate puppy who can't even get up onto the futon, and the next minute she's a DOG, jumping up on all the furniture and running over the back of the couch. She's getting leggy, and is all claws and elbows. We keep her lean and exercise her a lot so she's not chubby, and the large-breed puppy food we feed her is keeping her growth at a nice slow rate, so she's not over-size or stressed. She has a lovely face and we've taught her to "kiss kiss" which is the cutest thing going. She loves routine, so when she wakes me up at 5:30 a.m. to pee, she immediately comes back inside and heads straight to the futon for a snoozy cuddle time. I kind of look forward to it, even though I protest the early start.

Anyway, next week will be mommy and daddy time. We're looking forward to going to the Vancouver aquarium and visiting the otters behind the scenes. I am very much looking forward to visiting my cousin who I haven't seen in 12 years, and her husband and four children who I have never met (she has another on the way!). I can't wait to stay with my girlfriend in Kelowna for a few days, and hang out with her little dude (and observe the growth of his new little baby brother/sister, due this summer). We will get our baby mojo on with all of these pregnant mommies around!

When we get back, I fully expect spring to be in full swing. Already the grow-op is going full speed, I have the lights rigged on timers and EVerything. So far I've started:

- Red peppers (up)
- Cayenne peppers (coming up)
- Striped tomatoes (waaay up)
- Roma Tomatoes (waaay up)
- Melons (just started on Saturday)
- Squash (ditto)
- Basil (")
- Thai basil (")
- Pumpkins (")
- Ground cherries (")

Hopefully the snow will be long gone when we get back and then my order of operations will be:

1. Fix my fences - the snow toppled them.
2. Get a new garden gate, esp. now with the dog
3. Get a tie-out for Rosie, for the front lawn
4. Till the garden. Dig in compost. Remove weeds and dead stuff.
5. Make rows in the garden.
6. Plant the spring crops (spinach, coriander, etc.)
7. Get the new greenhouse-row cover-coldframe set up in the garden
8. Plant out the tomatoes and peppers in said coldframe
9. Figure out a spot for the large vines - the pumpkins, squash, and melons.
...and everything after that is status quo.

I hope I have time for the garden this year. We're looking for an electric lawnmower too, and some flagstones, so I can finally dress up the area around the firepit with my new side-by-side Muskoka chair (and table) from Costco, on a wee flagstone patio. We also have to (sigh) start thinking about the renovations again. I need an influx of money.

OK I'm getting ahead of myself. One thing at a time. We're off to BC. I can't wait.

And the winner is....

The irises! (photo taken April 5, 2008). More evidence of spring and it's springing.

Talk me down why don't ya

Today has not been the best.

Rosie got me up at 5:30 a.m. That isn't the worst thing ever, except that last night's bedtime was fraught with anxiety re: the cat, the dog, the husband, etc. So I don't know if I fell asleep very peacefully. Hubby's flair for the dramatic can make my blood pressure rise, as when I say "what's going on down there?" he'll say something subtle like "all hell is breaking loose down here - the dog is trying to KILL the cat!" So yeah, not too relaxing for bedtime.

We haven't been getting along great these days. I don't know if we're resentful towards each other because of the dog, or if we're competitive with each other -- I tend to think it's a bit of both -- but we are fighting like the cat and the dog. Well maybe more silently and less physically. I don't know how to address it, I'm in a bit over my head. The tension does break, for example we don't seem to fight once we're at work and e-mailing each other, but at home it's just nasty a lot of the time. We're both frustrated, resentful, tired, feeling put out, and full-on taking it out on each other.

So this morning was the pits. Up at 5:30, out for a pee break (not for me, for the dog), then a cozy nap on the futon, which has become my favourite time of day since Rosie gets nice and snuggly on me. Then she wakes up, bites me for awhile and trots off, and has to pee again. Today, I put on my lined rubber boots and jacket over my housecoat and nightie, and went out. Which would be fine, except that I thought she had to poo so I brought her to the side, and she walked down too far and got wrapped around a tree. I let go of the leash to try to get her back that way, but the leash got tangled in the tree, which was in the deep deep snow and down a hill, on the edge of the forest. So I had to go in. I was walking on top of the snow just fine, then sunk in. Up to my knees. Half naked, bare legged, and really really pissed off. I did this a bunch of times. My feet and shins were raw and miserable. I was blowing blue smoke out of my ears, I'm sure, and swearing like a sailor.

Then hubby woke up, and shaved at a leisurely pace on the couch, which pissed me off more. I don't think he know exactly how rotten my morning had been up to that point. The dog was jumping all over the place so I left her with him and I took a shower. Put my bathrobe back on. Then hubby had a [waaay too long but that's another issue] shower but Rosie had to go BACK out meanwhile, so out I went again wearing hubby's boots this time, my housecoat, and jacket, but nothing under my housecoat. She went down the front yard to poo, and I followed. For some reason. And sunk in again. Le sigh.

Then we had chaos leaving, I ONCE AGAIN didn't have any time to do my hair or makeup, and so I look a tired wreck, and Rosie got frantic when I went upstairs to change, and so when I came back down she started jumping at me and biting me and nipping my legs and pulling on my sweater, and hubby just sort of stood there not knowing what to do, which sent me into a snarling rage. I was literally stunned into silence by the time I got into the car, I was so angry at the world. Rosie didn't want to go into her crate and was barking so loud we could hear it from the car.

Then I had a combative complainy meeting for two hours once I got to work. More sigh.

And to top it all off, it's frigging snowing. April 4. And it's yucky wet snow and makes everything dirty and messy and terrible. To quote the inestimable Liz Lemon "Augh, Everything's the worst."

Today is the kind of day where I need a start-over. It feels like nothing will ever get better. It feels like I will always be tired, the dog will always be misbehaving, we will always be fighting, winter will never go away, work will always stink and we will always be panicked and running late for everything. I hate it all.

So talk me down already. I think I need to go home and get dee-runk.

Spring is springing

OK let's get this over with quickly. Mandatory cute animal picture for today. Hold onto your hats :

I think Rosie was surprised to see me. In order to be able to take this picture, I had to kind of jump out at them from around the doorframe. Loki looks nonplussed.

So spring is finally springing, I do believe. Things are melting, the dog poo is in full bloom, and my seedlings are growing up into leggy little tomatoes and peppers. Pretty soon I will have to find a dog-proof (ha!) spot in front of a southern window for my little greenhouse, and move the tomatoes and peppers to the grown-up table. Next up at the kiddie table are melons and squash, which need 4 to 6 weeks before last frost, and I'm going to tempt fate by starting them April 6. Maybe I should wait oooone more weekend. I have the garden all planned out already and yes, it's ambitious, and yes, it will probably not work out and be infested by cucumber beetles and cilantro and weeds and probably I will forget to water it or mulch properly, and I will get earwigs in my peppers and my tomatoes will be late, but what the heck. I amuse myself.

I want to find a good book on survival, or 'wild', food from my area. I would like to do at least one meal using the ingredients found in our yard. I would call it the 100-metre diet. Thing is, within 100 metres of my house, I have the following native delicacies:

- burdock (ha! lots of it)

- mushrooms (in fall)

- wild ginger (I promise not to take much of it)

- dandelions (meh)

- birch trees (I am interested in making flour out of the bark, for some odd reason)

- miscellaneous edible flowers

- black raspberries

- red raspberries

- wild strawberries

- fiddleheads (spring only)

- venison (ha ha ha)

- sumac berries

- nettles

...and I'm sure there are more things that I'm forgetting. Perhaps I could serve venison with a sauce of wild ginger, sumac berries, and mushrooms, garnished with edible flowers, served with burdock and steamed nettles on the side, paired with a lovely dandelion wine.

Sounds like a lot of work.

Can you milk deer? ("I got nipples Focker, can you milk me?") I could then conceivably make deer cheese. That should have been the title of this post.

Gone to the dogs

I used to think that people were either cat people or dog people. I saw them as two very specific types: introverts vs. extroverts, sedentary vs. active, etc. I am learning that that was very wrong of me, because it is completely possible to be both a cat person and a dog person, to be introverted yet still enjoy the company of others all the time, to be sedentary part of the time but enjoy a good stiff hike once in a while. To love cats and dogs equally.

The other day a cat-loving friend said to me "as long as you're not neglecting your cats!" and it stuck. I feel bad. I think I have been neglecting my cats. Splitting my soul between two cats -- who are very accustomed to us, who know their way around the house like the back of their paws, who have been with us 6 and 10 years respectively and who get along like a husband and wife -- and a new puppy who's learning it all for the first time and testing her limits, who can't really be left alone for too long, who needs constant interaction while we're home, has been really emotionally difficult. I feel like the cats are feeling neglected too - Sasha has started demanding attention vocally, which is great. At least she's letting us know what she needs. Loki on the other hand is having a rough time of it. The dog is relentless with him. She wants to play constantly, and rough. It's exactly like Loki's got his very own Kato.


(Incidentally, that is one of the funniest scenes of any movie ever. It's a masterpiece of slapstick).


Anyway, he's losing weight. We're all losing weight (well except for Sasha). My pants are all falling off of me. Even my underwear's sorta too big these days. If I think of it, it's a radical lifestyle change. I don't think I've spent this much time outside any winter of my life. We go for a walk every night, snow or shine. When we're in the house, we run up and down the hallways, and as soon as we sit down to watch t.v., Rosie immediately has to be somewhere else - likely outside peeing - so we get up constantly. Remember that gym membership I bought about a month and a half ago? That was a bit of a waste of money. If anyone out there hates going to the gym but needs to lose weight, my advice is to get a large-breed puppy. You walk constantly, picking them up is work (she's now 20 lbs), and they leave you very little time to eat.


Good things about Rosie: she's toilet trained, pretty much. She's not a picky eater (ha!). She loves veggies. She's learning not to go near Sasha, who lets her have it whenever she gets close. She loooooves going on new adventures. When we're off-site, she listens like a trooper. She sits when told, and comes when called. She's learning basic hand signals. She hasn't bitten me on the face in like three days. She smells good. Her adult fur has come in, and it's wavy. She's well-socialized, eager to meet new people and kids. She is ok on a leash. She's ok in the car, in her little crate (for now). She sleeps about 5 hours straight. She is the cutest dog that ever lived.


Bad things about Rosie: She sleeps only 5 hours straight. She harrasses Loki and has torn his ear. She bites our arms and has periods where she will bite anything in front of her, and flesh and hair are preferred. She chews bark and houseplants, and the floors are filthy. She barks at the cats incessantly. She selectively listens when we tell her to get off the couch. She runs upstairs at any given opportunity. She is bossy on her leash, carrying it in her mouth most of the time, which just gets her front paws all tangled up. Sometimes she sits down on the road and refuses to walk anywhere. She chews my knitting so the sweater I'm making will be for next winter. She eats rocks.


We started Puppy kindergarten the other day and holy crap is that ever cute. 7 puppies all playing together, leashes all tangled up - it's total chaos. The good thing is that the instructor seems to think that Rosie's great. She's impressed with how she sits on command, and how well-socialized she is. She hasn't seen Rosie's bad side just yet so I'm still worried, but at least she wasn't kicked out of the first class, like my friend's (admittedly too old and too large and much too hyper) puppy was.

So, in conclusion, I respectfully submit the following:


CATS:

• Soft, snuggly


• Shed cat hair


• Claws hurt when applied to skin


• Bite infrequently


• Have destroyed corner of the couch and all deck railing posts


• Purr


• Eat cat food


• Can jump easily from/to high surfaces


• Can sit on our laps for hours


• Sleep on the bed


• When afraid, sleep in the basement


• Poo in the litter box


• Let out throughout the day, as needed, freely. Come when called at dinnertime.


• Occasionally get into fights with wild animals and are injured


• Hate the car


• Cannot travel, go camping, etc. (see previous item)


• Uninterested in toys such as balls, frisbees, other interactive things beyond the cat dancer


• Get high on catnip


• Meat eaters


• Whine for food


• Easily overweight - weight difficult to lose


• Hate water


• Affectionate on their terms (well, Loki is. Sasha's always good to go)


• Sasha not interested in strangers, friends, parties, etc. Anti-social.

DOG:

• Snuggly, bony, soft fur


• Shed dog hair and drool


• Claws hurt but are rarely applied to skin


• Bites frequently


• Will destroy anything if left to her own devices


• Bark sharply. Doesn't purr when pleased


• Eats everything in front of her


• Slams body into any barrier in front of her, loudly


• Can sit on our laps for a short while, before starting to bite


• Sleeps on the futon and in her crate


• When afraid, walks between my feet


• Poos all over the deck and yard, preferably 4 feet up a snowbank


• Let out every hour to pee while we're home. Always on a leash


• Gets into fights with Loki. So far not gravely injured


• Is ok with the car


• Will come absolutely everywhere, except on planes, with us


• Interested in anything interactive, be it a ball or my bathrobe


• High on life


• Everything eater. Favourite snacks include peppers, celery and apples


• Sits patiently while waiting for food


• Slender - very active. Losing weight will not be an issue for years


• Is ok with water, though hasn't experienced it yet. Will be a swimmer


• Always affectionate, always happy to see us, follows us around the house.
  
• Loves everyone. Wants to meet the world.

Stuff I like

A friend just pointed me to this blog, Chocolate and Zucchini. Perhaps the entire world already knows about it, but I just discovered it, and I love her voice and her taste for all things chocolatey and good.

I have also recently been active on http://www.blacklabrador.com/, to get advice and reassurance from all of the seasoned black lab owners out there. It helps to calm my nerves when Rosie's been particularly stubborn and rambunctious.

I've been drinking Aranciata every day for lunch. I am developing a habit.

I've been faithfully attending my pottery classes again this session, but I have to admit it's hard for me to work up the motivation. I don't like feeling pressured re: the wheels, since there are too many people in the class for everyone to have a wheel, and I'm running out of inspired ideas for other projects. Also, I don't feel right being away for 2.5 hours on a wednesday, leaving hubby alone with Rosie at her craziest time of day.

I've not had much time for anything else these days, but I did start my seeds. I started "Ring of Fire" cayenne peppers, "Frank's" red peppers, "Tigerella" tomatoes, and "Principe Borghese" paste tomatoes. So far nothing's shown it's face yet. There's no rush, it was minus 21 out this morning.

I've also finally primed the wall where our new window is, so I will soon be able to hang the curtains again. That ought to buy us some time until we finish the window mouldings. I think we're a bit stymied by the style of the window - neither of us seems to be able to figure out how to finish the trim.

And finally, I really like my Rosie. She's a fun kid. Still the cutest damn dog on the block.









So that's my life this week. What are you up to?

Pseudo-mommy

Phew! (pant pant pant).

Well finally our little pup came home, and I am very happy to be introducing Rosie to the reader(s) of this blog.

She's a spitfire. Approximately 9-10 lbs of pure joy and exhuberance, just bursting at the seams and ready to play. She's nuts cute eh? I don't mean to brag, but I daresay I have the cutest dog in the world. Tied quite closely with her big brother Tonka, my brother's pup, who is a jolly good-natured, easy-going bruiser.

So this thinly-veiled attempt at motherhood is so far putting me through my paces. I've been reflecting on what it is to become a parent of a dog vis-à-vis the parent of a human. There are many similarities, and many stark differences. Herewith, I outline the differences:

Human: when they need to pee at 3 a.m., they do it in their diapers in bed, often while sleeping.

Dog: when they need to pee at 3 a.m., I have to stand outside in -20 degrees and snow in my housecoat and slippers, and then attempt to fall back asleep.

Human: When they want to play, there's mess involved.

Dog: When they want to play, more often than not there's biting involved.

Human: Eventually they will pick up commands such as "can you take this shovel and put it back in the garden shed? And bring me those gloves on the shelf? Thanks."

Dog: I would be happy with "Go get your ball! Come to momma!"

Human: When they play with cats, they can be indelicate.

Dog: When she plays with the cats, it's a mess of teeth, claws, fur, hissing and barking.

Human: Wears clothes.

Dog: Wears every scrap of dirt that ever fell on our floors.

Human: The results of their elimination end up in a diaper genie or down the toilet.

Dog: The results of her elimination end up all over my deck. Really nice in the rain! My siding got spattered with dog poo!

Human: When you cook dinner, you can put them in a high chair.

Dog: When you cook dinner, you have to designate a dog-minder, and work in carefully orchestrated shifts in order to maintain her frenzied state, so that you have a chance of sleeping through the night.

Human: Knocks over or plays with/ruins houseplants.

Dog: Eats houseplants.

Hubby's co-workers yesterday assured him that what we're going through is much worse than having a baby. They remarked on the bags under his eyes, the frenzied, desperate look on his face. The clothes that didn't quite match and were pulled slightly apart at the cuffs. Teeth marks in his belt. Yep, for the most part, babies don't bite, and you don't have to go back to work the day after having them, leaving them to their own devices.

I'm only joking about the comparisons to human babies. But I have no experience with having a human baby so I'm taking what I can get and running with it. All I know is that babies snuggle without biting your lips.

Oh and I don't want to seem as though I'm complaining. Rosie is an awesome little dog. She's smart, feisty, loving, snuggly, super cute and very curious. She lets us know what she does and doesn't like, and she is learning lessons daily. I've even almost got her fetching... not bad after 5 days. She has pretty much taken to her crate, and goes in without protest (when she's asleep or halfway there). When she plays, half the time she grabs her toy and scrambles into my lap, as I sit on the floor, to play with it. It's really very adorable.

She's got us on a pretty short leash though. I have to work on the 'dominance' issue, because Rosie is a pretty dominant, self-confident dog. She bites a lot, which is apparently natural as she's teething with her first round of chompers. She bites everything in sight. She isn't yet tall enough to climb the stairs (this morning she slid down three of them on her chin: ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump - I felt so bad) but dammit she'll keep trying. She's fascinated by Loki - he makes her totally crazy. That actually stresses me out quite a bit because I didn't really expect it for some reason, I thought the cats would stay away from the dog and that Loki would beat her up if they mixed - I was actually worried about her safety. He does, but she still gets way too close for comfort and obviously hasn't learned the lesson just yet. I feel like he can train her not to bite better than I can and he needs to step up to the plate. Oh well. They only interact for short periods of the day. For the most part, Loki's still got the run of the house. Sasha is freaked out completely but has taken to eating her meals on our dining room table (at the end where we don't sit) and is now starting to come around. I feel good if I can get her purring a few times a day. Rosie's not that crazy-interested in her for some reason. Probably because they're not the same colour...

Things Rosie really likes include: Loki, my hair, her nylabone, her squeaky squirrel, the monkey cushion which she's adopted, towels in general, tassled rugs, hands, plants, eating snow, tummy rubs, cat food, boots (she stuffs her whole face into them, it's hysterical), hunting for ants (don't judge me, I have ants), trying to get up onto the couch, and the variegated legs of the kitchen chairs.

OK I miss her. Only 3 hours and 20 minutes until we're home. I have to hold out.

Two more big sleeps

Happy valentine's day.

Notice that I used lower-case letters up there. I am not a celebrator of valentine's day - oh I know lots of people say they're not into valentine's and then they still expect cards and flowers, but I am different. I am lucky to get a chocolate or something from hubby, and he usually gets nothing from me but a kiss. I just feel like it's a useless, pink, arbitrary holiday. I don't celebrate anything that doesn't get me a day off work (St. Patrick's day, I'm looking at you) with the obvious exception of Halloween.

The fact that it's February 14, however, means that the puppies are ready to go to their new homes. It means that there are 2 more big sleeps until our little squirmy bundle of love is introduced to our house, our two jealous cats, our area rugs and all of our chewable belongings. We built her a nice pen in the living room so she can spend her days peeing and pooping on newspapers, contained, while still feeling like a part of the family, able to observe the cats and the comings and goings outside the patio door. It's sunny, and right beside the woodstove, and right in the centre of activity in our house. I've put a little bed in it but that's already changed, I have a little day-time sleeping crate in there for her now. Her large night-time crate has arrived at the bus station as well, courtesy of my girlfriend in B.C., so I can decorate that at make it cozy before her arrival Saturday morning.

Here's the pen:

Also, I think we've settled on a name: Rosie. Not after the O'Donnell version, more like the Riveter one. It sounds awfully close to "Loki" but we'll have to emphasize the "Z" sound when calling her.

As you can imagine, it's all about dogs these days in my world. Dog this dog that. I am obsessive, as you've probably surmised from my other posts, and so for the months of February/March it is all about dogs. I have been googling dog stuff, reading up on dog training techniques, google-imaging pictures of 7-week old Black Lab puppies, just to get my fix pre-Rosie. I have told everyone I meet and have shown her picture to all of my co-workers. I have quizzed my girlfriend until she's thoroughly sick of me. I have asked for tips from a dog-trainer friend of ours. I have purchased toys, a bed, a leash, a collar, a brush, some tennis balls, food, treats, and today I will go invest in a wee Kong for the little lady, to give her something to work on during the day while we're away. I've scrounged up a training harness, a giant dog bowl with a big suction cup on the bottom, a jaunty stripey placement (seen in the photo), small dishes (left over from Peter, R.I.P.). I've made a large dog bowl in pottery class, and I've even spool-knitted a long looped and knotted rope to hang from the doorknob with bells on it, so I can train her to let us know when she has to pee. Eventually. I have been a complete pain in the ass. I am nothing if not eager, and am very very thorough.

I have even been priming the cats by telling them that we're getting them a puppy. I don't know if it's sunken in yet, but they are naturally very curious about the pen.

Also, in other news, I did join the gym and have now gone three times. I tried to go four times, but the first time my pass-key didn't work, so that was discouragement number one. The first time I actually went was a bit of a washout. I didn't have great clothes - I threw together some old stretchy pants and a yucky t-shirt that didn't really match, since I believed that the gym would be empty after work hours. I was wrong. I also didn't have proper shoes, so was wearing flat-bottom skateboard sneakers that I dug out of the bottom of the closet and cleared of dust-bunnies and spider carcasses. I felt embarrassed. My shoes felt like clown-shoes. My Mp3 player wasn't charged up. It felt like it wasn't meant to be. When I approached the machine, I couldn't figure out how to turn it on and, like a dunce, figured it was out of order and went to try another one. When I realized they were all like that, and I'd hit all the buttons with no effect, I got frustrated and left. When I got back to the change room I thought "don't be such a baby" and went back to the gym, got on the machine, and PRESTO! it came on automatically. Duh. So I spent awhile fiddling with the buttons (what kind of workout? Heart monitoring? Cardio? Weight Loss? For how long? At what level?) and finally got to work out for about half an hour. It felt great.

Then I went and got some cheapo gym-type sneakers, standard-issue, and charged up my Mp3 player, and wore my black yoga pants, and a decent top that matched. I've been twice since and have developed my own little routine, and I feel great afterwards, so I've told my husband to make sure I stick with it, because I know myself and will quit as soon as I have the first good excuse. I will never be a gym bunny, but with the right music it is quite enjoyable. I figure if I go two or three times a week for 40 minutes, I'll be way better off than I am now in many different ways.

Along the same lines, I went to the fertility doctor again last week. I had been avoiding him. I had been unsatisfied with the treatment and sort of feeling like they were trying to make a buck out of me. But I have changed my tune. I went in there believing that I would stomp in, put my foot down and insist on progressing with IUI treatments. But he discouraged me for all good reasons, not the least of which is financial. So I guess I trust him again. I'm going back on the meds (monitored this time, as he seems to think I'm a "triplet risk" which would be a nightmare), and getting more tests, and staying the course. It's a bit frustrating but what the heck.

At least I have the fur children.

A Whole New World

Wow, so this past weekend I had my socks knocked off by the world's cutest puppies.

Before I knew it, hubby had one in his arms and as he was passing it to me, he said "go see mummy!" by mistake. Oops indeed. As of this writing, we now have a puppy waiting for us with a tiny red collar on and a special haircut to mark her. Our little bundle of joy. Typically, I picked the shy one, the runt of the litter (one of 11!), the one who wasn't as eager to jump into the pile of writhing sleeping biting climbing smothering other black puppies.

She's a girl, and she's adorable. I am a proud new mother.

So now we are tasked with the enviable job of finding a name for this little sweetie pie. So far, the top contenders for names are: Pixie (her mom's name is Trixie, and she's the smallest of the litter), Cricket (because she's small and black), and Lola. Her mum is a beautiful, happy and humungous one-year-old Golden Retriever and her dad (R.I.P.) was a Black Lab, a championship hunting dog who made this his one beautiful final act. I don't think she'll end up being as tiny - I have a habit of super-sizing my pets.

Her biggest brother is going to my brother, which is nice, because they'll grow up together and have the chance to play together a lot with someone else their own size (kind of) since we live 3 minutes apart. That's his butt in the foreground. He's a real bruiser.

I have visions of having the dog in our red canoe, having the dog on the boat, having the dog camping on islands, having the dog on road trips, having the dog while ice fishing, having the dog on long walks in the woods, teaching the dog to swim, gently. Having the dog hang out while I garden. Having the dog be raised by my two giant cats, who will totally dominate her in the first few months, and maybe later as well, at least until she realizes how big she is. The cats are easily twice her size right now. Hubby has visions of them riding around on her back, and has made them promise not to use their claws on her.

I want to buy her healthy chew toys, healthy dog food, healthy treats, and healthy bedding. My girlfriend's sending us her crate, for bedtime, and we now have to figure out where her potty-training zone is going to be while we're away at work. She'll need a room, with a baby gate, covered in a tarp and newspapers on top of that. Problem is, we don't really have rooms like that, like other people do - laundry rooms or utility rooms or spare bathrooms. All of our extra rooms are in the basement, and it's too cold and lonely down there for a baby pup.

I'm registering her with the municipality, getting her license, getting her checked by the vet and getting her microchipped. We're going to do this all right.

I am so ready to be a parent it's completely ridiculous. Just when I thought there was not much hope for me, this is filling the niche quite nicely. We have been waiting for the "right time;" for a rescue dog, or for maternity leave when I'll be home all day. But the following factors made our minds up for us:

- we met a vet at a party who had two dogs, and she keeps them inside all day, and they're fine.

- these puppies were made known to us the day after the party - it's karma.

- I may never go on maternity leave - why wait for that?

- even if I did go on maternity leave, who wants to potty train a puppy while dealing with a new baby?

- we're never going to be unemployed otherwise -may as well bite the bullet and get it over with now, as difficult as it may be.

So here's our babe, our sweet little girl. I will keep you updated on her progress, of course, and post more pictures when I bring her home.

Oh, also I joined the gym at work.

Help me! I'm stranded!

Alright I'm just being dramatic.

Today we are experiencing inclement weather conditions. I actually got a memo in my inbox here at work at about 2 p.m. that said "due to inclement weather conditions all _____ employees are permitted to leave at 3 p.m." I have never received that particular memo before, so it got me all excited, except that I'm a commuter so I really am powerless to leave work early and that's why I'm sitting here stranded at work, in a blizzard, quietly writing my blog like a big dork. I'm now trying to decide which junk food I should indulge in, just because of the fun snow-day-like setting (chocolate or chips? The eternal question.)

I think everyone all over the internets has gone home for the day because I don't think I've received an email that wasn't from my husband in at least 2 hours.

So here's the news, for those who care:

• Have not joined the gym yet; will do so Monday (I promise)
• Have not yet gotten a puppy, but am still enthusiastic and karma's brought one my way, so I believe it's in my near future. Like, two weeks.
• I have a cold.

I am very excited about the idea of being a dog-mother. The puppies which have become available are a Golden Retriever/Black lab mix, and there are 11 of them. My brother and his girlfriend are considering it as well, so we two siblings could have two siblings, which is fun. They'll be ready to go (12 weeks?) on Feb. 14 or so, so we'd have a couple of weeks to get used to the idea, to get everything out of chewing range, to cover up my wires, and to buy a dog bed. I have never had a dog, but I can picture it - walks, having a companion by my side, having a warm body lying across my feet while I watch t.v. at night, having a large defender for the cats. Apparently these puppies' father is a champion hunting dog, so that could be interesting.

I feel like I'd need a short maternity leave, however. Maybe a week, just to get used to having the kid around. We're gone from the house for long stretches, so I hope it'll be ok, but it will have the cats as companions and I'm sure they'll raise him/her to be an obediant little soldier. My Loki takes no crap. Sasha on the other hand might just permanently move under the bed, but I'm not worried - she needs to toughen up. She's becoming a sissy in her old age.

I will keep you all updated.

Getting through it

Today is January 28. Two of my friends have their birthdays on this day, and it's a Monday. My baby brother's driving around somewhere in Detroit, and I am thinking about joining a gym and getting a puppy, in that order.

We had another hilariously fun winter weekend. On Friday night we went skiing, as we seem to do every week these days, and on Saturday we went to a 'winter party' where some friends shovelled out a rink on their pond and my hubby went ice fishing. There was a bonfire and red wine was enjoyed. There was food, and nice bunch of new people to hang out with. There were also 4 lovely dogs, bounding around in the snow getting to know each other, which sent us over the edge in our dog/no dog debate. Yesterday hubby went ice fishing again, and I stayed home to clean the house, which was much less heinous than you'd think on a nice sunny winter day.

Winter is funny. I always feel like I hate it so much when it's happening, but I can't imagine not having one. I think it would screw up my biorhythms completely. I am a person who needs four perfect seasons: spring for new flowers and exploration, the smell of wet dirt, seeds sprouting in the basement and the sound of running water in the gully by our house. Summer for snorkelling in clear northern lakes and making friends with the bass, cold beers and late afternoon barbecues on docks, bare feet and fresh veggies from the garden. Fall for putting everything to sleep and working like the ant in Aesop's fable, cooking up comfort food for the wood stackers, getting itchy knitter's fingers and pulling out the warm clothes like old friends from the steamer trunk. And now we have winter, which means firewood, shovelling fun paths around the yard, deer tracks all over our property, that clear clear light that you get at no other time of year, skiing, and looking forward to nothing more in the world than a cup of hot chocolate and a rented movie. I don't even think I'm a person who really needs to go south during the winter, though certainly a week of beachcoming, diving for shells and coral, and a poolside bar does sound easy enough to take.

We're getting through this winter. It makes us feel tough and secure to see the end in sight, to start noticing that the days are getting longer and we're still ok. We're not depressed yet. When depression starts to creep in, it's easy enough for us to dress up, load the skis into the car, and outrun it on the slopes. Also, skiing is on t.v., as is hockey, which are the only two sports I can stomach watching (the former more than the latter).

Another sign of spring: I bought my vegetable seeds the other day. I found this terrific local seed company - Greta's Organic Gardens - which offers a good selection of organic heirloom seeds. I ordered them online, and POOF! they were at my house in 24 hours. It was a miracle. I've never seen such fast service. Check them out at www.seeds-organic.com. I am still looking for kale seed, and I still need to buy potato sets and onions, but I've got the bulk now and most importantly, I have the things that need to be started soon (tomatos, peppers). So soon the grow-op will be put back together, I will clean out the kitchen in the basement, and get going on those early birds. I am going for rows in the garden for the first time this year, and I'm trying to use companion planting to squeeze in as many things as I can in my short-ish season. I need to find another spot for squash and melons, though, because they take up more than their fare share of space. I also have a long, short, plastic greenhouse that hubby brought home for me one day by surprise, which I'll use for the peppers, tomatos, basil, etc. to get them out into the dirt a bit earlier.

But for now I'm happy to be without the gentle pressures of gardening, renovations, and week-end getaways. I'm happy enough with the cleaning and the skiing and the winter parties and the hot chocolate.

Food Report

Wow you don't hear from me for months and then I'm here twice in one day. Feast or famine I tell you.

Speaking of feasts, I thought I would update on all of the culinary adventures I've had since October. It's been a productive little time and I've learned a lot, so onwards. But I really have to stop this habit of mine of tackling huge food production projects every time I have a holiday, because it's really not relaxing in the least.

1. Apple Cider
We were like a couple of little kids with our cider making this fall. When we finally were able to take it out of the bucket and put it in the carboy, it became a singular obsession. We checked the bubbling several times a day and were obsessing over its clarity. We didn't need to obsess, in the end, because it became abundantly obvious when it was ready to bottle. Bottling was fun, but we didn't get as much cider as I'd expected - about 10 x 750 ml bottles. I was expecting 12 litres. Anyway, the cider is delicious - nice and smoothly fizzy (like champagne!) and strong as hell - but it has a slight metallic taste, likely from the early pressing in the metal cider press, and it is super powerful so it means an instant drunk, with a nasty headache afterwards. I dubbed it "De Dronken Maker" - the drunk-maker. Eric calls his "I'm the D-Cider" as in Dubya's "I'm the decider! I decide!" Hardy har. Anyway, homemade cider is a fun party trick.

2. Cheddar Cheese
I finally worked up the courage to do a farmhouse cheddar just before Christmas. It was a hell of a lot of work, mostly trying to figure out how to press it with the correct weight. It was also very expensive, as it requires two gallons of milk, which is about 9-10 dollars' worth where I live. Once it was pressed, it was beautiful, but I think I may have wrecked it by cutting the wheel in half BEFORE waxing it. It oozed all over the place, and this during the time where I had the stomach flu, and I now have absolutely no appetite to ever eat cheddar cheese ever again. I'm kidding I love cheese. Once it was waxed (now THAT was fun) it was beautiful - so red and glossy. I gave it as gifts, but it's only edible after Jan. 20 so we'll see what the report is.

3. Venison
My little (well, younger) brother shot a deer this fall, and gave us some venison to try. I appreciate it. I appreciate the local-ness of it, the ethics of it (I've come a long way since I was 16), and the health benefits, for sure. We ate steaks first, though, which may have been a mistake as venison is something of an acquired taste if you're not really much of a red-meat-eater to start with. My stomach reacted violently, though it could have been the stomach bug on its return voyage. Also there was a bit of fur stuck to our steaks. Hell, only two or three hairs, but it was enough for the effect. Later on, I made venison ravioli out of the ground meat he gave us, and that was totally delicious. We also had it on Christmas eve at our first-ever fondue party (make that FUN-due party!) and New Year's eve in chili. My verdict: I love it in stuff. Plain steaks, maybe not so much. But in chili, pasta, stews, etc. - bring it on.

4. Duck
I was petrified to cook up a duck for the first time, since all I'd ever heard about it was that it was super fatty, had less meat on it, blah blah quack quack. Hubby had bought three free-range-type ducks from his colleague/farmer, for a pretty penny (many pretty pennies), and I was under contractual obligation to cook them up. He harrassed me for weeks with his guilt campaign. I finally invited my brother and sister-in-law for dinner and did duck à l'orange, Julia-Child-style. It was fussy and finicky, and yes very fatty, but all in all not that difficult or unpleasant and it ended up being delicious. I apologize to the ducks of the world, because my brother decided that night to become a duck hunter as well as an everything-else hunter.

5. Goat's cheese
I bought goat'$ milk ($$) with the intent of making delicious crumbly goat's cheese at home. It was easy enough to make, initially, though took a long time and was messy to press (2 days of dripping in the sink). It was delicious the one time I ate it, but it went bad really quickly. We admittedly didn't eat it soon enough so next time, I'll only make it if there's a reason and a chance to eat it all at once. And I learned something! There's nothing in the world that smells worse than rotten home-made goat's cheese!

6. Real French Artisanal Bread
This wasn't as much work as I expected. Lots of waiting around. I made a starter first (again, not as dramatic as I'd expected) and let that sit for 16 hours or so. Then I made three baguettes, following the recipe in the second-last Martha Stewart magazine. Easy! Great! Delicious! Only don't forget the salt like I did!

I will try most of these things again soon. I will eat all of my goat's cheese, I will remember the salt, I will marinade my venison steaks, I will NOT cut the cheese (ha ha), and I will drink the remainder of my cider in moderation.

Virtue

So it's a new year and I haven't been on this site since October of last year. That's nearly three months, if I have my math right (you never know).

I am trying my best to start my year off right. Last year didn't end so well - I had a few typical Gennyland mishaps towards the end there. I got the stomach flu in early December, was shitfaced sillybuggers at work for a few weeks, then once I started my three-week vacation, I got a cold and another stomach bug all over again. I was worn out - mentally, physically, emotionally, the whole lot. I also had a silly accident.

We've had a lot of trouble with ice dams on our roof. The insulation is ridiculous in our house - the house was designed for California - so every year it's a new battle with the ice dams. For those of you in more southern climes, an ice dam is.... well it's just bad. Google it. Anyway, I had a curtain of icicles (all of a sudden I don't have the first clue how to spell that) hanging down and went outside to wage war on the ice. I had the intention of hammering off the ice dams, but first I started knocking off the icicles with my snow shovel. While looking up and moving along sideways, I hit the one spot where we have a 4" wide gap from a missing board that we'd meant to fix, and my leg went through. To the thigh. My legs, for those of you who don't know me in person, are not 4" wide. More like 5, 51/2. I was stuck - I couldn't pull it back out. I thought I might have to chew myself out, coyote-style. There was nobody around to hear me holler for help, as it was the middle of a weekday and everyone was at work. I was stuck there for a half hour, until I knocked the hammer from off of the barbecue and used it to chip the deck away enough to slide my leg out. Now it looks like someone tried to eat the deck, but we temporarily replaced the board so at least it's safe. r.

I went inside and checked it out - the leg was black and blue and shaped like the deck. I wailed, standing there in my underpants, and spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the futon watching "Elf" with a bag of frozen peas on my leg. When hubby got home, he wondered why there were peas all over the house, because apparently I'd been too shocked to realize that the bag was open. I was beyond caring. When my mom called, it was a pivotal scene in the movie (hell! When Santa's sleigh takes off because everyone sings! Damn that gets me every time!) and I was a bit....teary.... and I said (voice catching, unable to hide the crying): "I h-h-had a acci-d-dent!" My mother, in her infinite patience, said "well I'm not going to come over if you're just sitting there blubbering over some stupid movie" or something equally sympathetic. Hmph.

So injuries and illness aside, 2007 is now down the toilet and I get to start over anew. Only I don't feel super refreshed, so I'm working on that currently. I have all good intentions for the beginning of the year, and thought I might make a list so as to impress you with all of the virtuous things I've done so far in 2008:

- Cut off my hair. OK that's not so much virtuous as refreshing, but I feel like a better person.
- Had a massage (nice in the moment, but no real lasting effects).
- Started a pottery class
- Started a new semi-diet
- Started menu planning for the entire week on the weekends. So far so good.
- Been to the dentist, had a filling taken care of.
- Made all new doctors' appointments, for my fertility and my foot (bunions are a bitch).
- Skiied. Twice.
- Been ice fishing - don't laugh it's good exercise.
- Seriously considered joining the gym at work.
- Bought tickets to the theatah, and even made plans to go with (gasp!) friends! Other humans! Who aren't even related to me!
- Had a dinner party. Made duck for the first time.
- Have begun to stop working abruptly at 5 p.m.
- Booked a vacation for myself and hubby to visit friends in B.C.
- Upping my vegetable intake.

I may even consider taking up flossing. I don't know - it's still under consideration. Other things I need to work on (but am not yet committing to) include: talking to friends on the phone, going to see movies at a theatre, not procrastinating at work, and being nice to my husband. When summertime comes I will have a whole new list of things to work on.

I also set to work on a plan for the future/further renovations of our house. See? I am all about planning. My plans usually go immediately off the rails, but you've gotta start somewhere.

So, here's to 2008. May it truly be a Happy new year, because if it isn't, I'm going to want my money back.

Jammer Fan

I'm like a teenage girl. I was in Toronto last week for some events, and while I was at a prize event at - ahem - the Gladstone Hotel, I turned around and who was standing right beside me, playing with his umbrella? One of the Food Jammers guys. But dagnabbit it was during the speeches so I couldn't introduce myself, and he disappeared soon after. Rats. That's my brush with fame for the year.

Falltime.

I can't come up with a title. My brain is zapped.

My work schedule is completely bananas right now so I don't even know why I'm doing this - if I'm near a computer I ought to be working but whatever. I have events coming up - big events - November 12,14, 15, 19, 20, 21, 26, 27 and December 5-7, 11, 12, and 13. I just finished events Sept 30 - Oct 4, Oct. 16, 17, 19, and 23. Can you believe that schedule? It's totally nuts but I'm not allowed to complain.

Things are super busy at home too. Fall is a nice time, but man is it a lot of work. Seriously it's the time of year when we should just hire a live-in helper to do manual labour around the house. We got a big load of firewood the other day that needs to be sorted, split, and stacked in the shed. We bought a car (a Vibe. I love it.), and need to sell the old one. I have a box full of bulbs that need to go into the ground this weekend. And on top of everything, we've been experimenting in the kitchen AND having wildlife issues - yet again.

My kitchen experimentation has taken on a whole new level. I have now, thanks in large part to the Kingsolver family's excellent book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle , and the totally fun New England Cheesemaking Supply , been experimenting with making my own cheese. Turns out it's not that tough. But that's not where the story begins.

We had a really great apple harvest this year. So great, that one day when a copy of ReadyMade magazine came in the mail and included a recipe for homemade apple cider, we had the brainwave "why don't we make cider!?" It wasn't really a question though. We filled the downstairs fridge with apples, we had pillowcases full of apples in the doorways, bowls of apples on the counter, rows of apples lined up on our deck railings and picnic table, and half-eaten apples scattered all over our lawn.

My little brother (not so little actually, but younger), who is very much mechanically inclined and gifted, decided to make me an apple cider press for my birthday, which is September 4. He made this heavy-duty press out of carbon steel and a bottle jack, and the design was pretty great. It had a box with a spout, and my mom made us some hemp press bags to go along with it. But I had to core and grind the apples first, which was hugely messy and took a long time and gave me fingers so sore I couldn't use my fingertips for a few days. When we got the ground apples into the press box, we found we couldn't squeeze them hard enough for all the juice to come out, that the juice actually ended up going over the top and soaking back in.

After many permutations, a few jacks, and a lot of swearing, we finally resorted to the following method: throw the apple chunks into the juicer. When the juicer has had enough, put the apple juice into the press bag and squeeze it through into the bucket. Then scrape out the leftover apple from the juicer, put it into a press bag, and press the shit out of it by hand. This method was both very effective and gave my husband nice biceps.

We got 12 litres of juice and stopped there, because that is the size of the carboy we bought, plus our hands were stained dark brown. And also because I had to cook a 19lb turkey for four people later that day. We'd gone to the winemaking supply place and gotten all kinds of little bottles of chemically powders and things, followed the winemaker's recipe (the readymade one proved too small-scale and unreliable), and now, two weeks later, we have a 12 litre carboy of beautiful cider bubbling away in our back room, which we check every 5 minutes and treat like a pet.

But what to do with the press? I had, in the meantime, been reading about the Kingsolvers' adventures in homemade food, and decided to check out the cheesemaking supply place after reading that they make their own mozzarella and it only takes 30 minutes. What a fun site. If I'd had fun with the cider chemicals, cheesemaking is a whole new kind of science, and we eat a lot of mozzarella - we are big into homemade pizzas. I ordered the kit and was like a kid at Christmas when it came in the mail. I watched the video twice. I will watch it again.

My first mozza was extremely tasty, but a bit soft. Hubby used it on a pizza while I was away for work for a week, and enjoyed it quite a bit. The next mozza was larger (a full recipe) and still a bit soft for my liking, needs more salt, and I didn't like the taste as much which I think is due to using a different brand of milk. The experiments continue, and now I'm about to start thinking about Farmhouse Cheddar, which I have to get on before Christmas. I get to make a whole new order from the cheesemaking supply, which is great since our dollar is currently so high. So the press will now transition from being a cider press to being a cheese press, and I have bought the accoutrements to make that happen in the near future.

We've also had squirrel troubles, which seem to have solved themselves. Er. Let's just say that nobody wants a black squirrel IN the house. It's bad enough to have squirrels in the attic and near your wires, but to come home and find your living room ransacked is another thing. Seriously - the little creep crushed my beloved banana plant! It's over four feet tall! Thankfully it's bouncing back, but I can't say the same for the antique teacups and old salvaged bottle collection, a few of which met their maker. He smashed plant pots, and left chewed up apple all over the place. He shat in my thanksgiving roasting pan, chewed the lip off of my flour pail, chewed the mesh of my flour seive, and tried to chew through the frame of the basement window.

My husband bought one of those Have-A-Heart critter traps, which trap the creature alive so you can release it back into the wild somewhere far away. We had intentions of doing this, and hubby was even concerned that perhaps he wouldn't have a chance to build an adequate nest and food stash before winter. We baited the trap with apples and peanut butter and went off to work. I then made the mistake of calling my mom and asking them to go and check the trap later in the day. At about 3 p.m. I received the following phone call:

"Hi there." (it's my mom, we need no introductions)
"Hi?"
"Dad caught a squirrel."
"Oh yeah?"
"a BLACK squirrel!"
"a BLACK SQUIRREL??? No shit!" (we are rural - black squirrels are kind of urban.)
"Yeah."
"What did he do?"
"He got rid of him."
"like how."
"Um, he shot him."
"He what?"
"He shot him. He took the cage outside and shot him."
"Point blank?"
"Yep."
"Holy shit. Where's the body?"
"He disposed of it."
"How?"
"I don't know. He disposed of it."

My parents are fantastic. My dad is kind of a redneck and my mom's pretty urbane, and together they are like a rollicking vaudeville routine. I love them so much. But that squirrel ran into the wrong family member. I'm so glad we spent the money on a HAVE-A-HEART trap. Just don't tell PETA. Also don't tell my neighbors or my garbage man because as it turns out 'disposing' of it, according to my dad, means driving it down the road and sticking it in someone else's garbage can. Disgusting, I know. Don't judge me.

So it's a madhouse, as usual. I don't honestly know how kids will ever fit into this mix.

Is This Considered An Advertisement?

This is the best thing on television: Behold, FOOD JAMMERS.

It almost makes me wish I lived in Toronto. I would hang around the 'warehouse' wherever it is and wait for the delicious treats. Maybe they need a girl in the cast. It's right up my alley.

In fact, we're chewing on ideas for how to make cider at home, and last night I was thrilled to turn on the tv and see an episode called "I'm So Ex-Cidered". Their elaborate rig was much more than what I'll be doing at home (which basically involves old countertop and C-clamps) but still, it was inspiring, and hubby took notes.

I heart the Food Jammers. They're my new best friends and they don't even know it.

That show follows "Ace of Cakes" which is pretty cool as well, but somehow makes me never want to eat cake again.

The Pollination Association

The other day a work colleague of mine told me all about her new adventures in bee-keeping. She knew I'd be interested; anything vaguely animal-or-nature-related is right up my alley, and especially when they intersect with food production and Do-It-Yourselfism. I just made that up. Did I just make that up?

Anyway, it got me to thinking. I don't think I'm quite prepared, time-wise or financially, to devote myself to bee-keeping, though I do believe it's in my future somewhere. I started to think about the ecology of my yard, and about who's doing all the work in it. I have a lot of bumblebees. Since my entire perennial garden is overtaken by oregano each year, and it blooms at about this time, the garden is currently one giant buzzing engine of pollination and productivity. Incidentally, I'll bet that oregano honey is marvellous. In the spring, when the apple trees are in bloom, the buzzing comes from overhead and I used to find it disconcerting but not anymore. Those bees are too busy to notice me.

Though I don't really think I need to encourage the bees any further, since they actually seem to have colonized my yard without any effort, I came across designs on the internet for bee houses. It came about through my research into where exactly bumblebees nest, what the nests look like and whether or not they produce honey. I didn't get any great answers to the first questions -- though the nests do tend to look gross, like bubbling wax or lava, on the inside -- I did learn that bumblebees don't produce much honey, only enough to feed their young.

At any rate, I looked up the designs for bee houses, so I can observe their lifecycle sometime in the future. I'm not inclined to buy bumblebees, since I have so many already, but they say that if you put the houses out in the spring, they'll find them themselves, since they spend a good chunk of time searching for an appropriate nest at the beginning of the season. I doodled this design in PaintBrush:
I read that bumblebees seem to prefer mauve and yellow, so I will paint the area around the entry pipe in a mauve and yellow flower-pattern. This also gets a hinged lid/roof, which will overhang a bit. The pink stuff is fibreglass insulation. And how civilized are they? The first room is a 'vestibule', which they use as a washroom so they don't have to poo in the nest. I know humans dirtier than that.

So over the winter I'm going to make a few of these and stick them all around the property. I'll see what happens - I'm almost happy with whatever decides to use them, unless they're earwigs.

On the more complex side, Lee Valley tools has a pattern for making bat houses. Bats are such terrific little creatures: they pollinate certain plants, but mostly they're an awesome form of mosquito control. If we sit out on the deck at night we can feel/see/hear them flapping by overhead, protecting us from our buggy scourge. Bat houses aren't simple to make - they are governed by some strict rules - and they have to be placed in tricky spots away from busy areas. I'm thinking mine would have to be up in a tree somewhere. Bats are shy. But I think it would be neat to provide homes for them and encourage them to stick around. Maybe if the winter's really long and dull I'll get to that.

My colleague has promised me a field trip to her friend's hives. She's got two, apparently, and produces a LOT of honey out of them. It seems that one could become overwhelmed by the quantity of honey produced, especially if you're not inclined to eat it often. But honey is a great, natural, organic and ecologically-sound sugar substitute - I even read that it can be used to sweeten cider - so it might be worth it to anyone interested in the 100 mile diet-type food sourcing ethos, as I am. How great would it be to get all your sugar from the back yard? Pair that with maple syrup, which my brother's friends make, for a bit of variety and all your sweetening needs can be covered within 10 miles.

I look forward to seeing what's involved in the hives, and whether or not it would be do-able to have just one in my back yard. We're trying to create a small orchard area in the back, as I planted a cherry tree this past spring which looks nice and healthy, and next year I think it'll be a plum tree, to replace the sickly one in the front yard. Stick a bee hive under those and away we go. She told me that it needs attention every two weeks, and that sounds like a maintenance plan that even I could stick with, especially since it's only for half the year.

Back to cider: I think we're going to try to tackle cider this year. We have two varieties of apple growing in the yard, and more scattered around the neighborhood (the area used to be an orchard, many many years ago). The ones in the yard are pretty cultivated, not crab-appley or wormy at all. I have MacIntoshes but also another kind, which are huge and juicy but oh-so-tart. I figure a mix of these two will suffice, with maybe some sour wild ones thrown in, but my big question is whether or not I can extract the juice using an electric juicer. I don't really feel like building a press, especially since I don't have all that much time this fall. The apples are almost ready to pick so it's going to become an issue soon, and I need an answer. Then I need to go to the wine making place and get a carboy, and an airlock, and then I need to source some old Grolsch bottles that I can clean up and use for bottling. I think there's a closet in the basement with "Cider-Factory" written all over it. We're going to make hard cider (duh) and carbonate it so it'll be nice and fizzy and ready to drink by Thanksgiving or Christmas. I can't think of what else to do with my apples, I really have too many each year, and I never have the energy to make more than one or two pies. I think I still have apple juice in the freezer from last year. God it's such a mess.

So stay tuned for food-production tales. In the meantime, here's a story I wrote a few years ago for YouGrowGirl on my home-canning adventures.

Evaluation (with photos!)

I decided that today would be the day that I finally got around to using the nifty little USB drive thingie that I got for free from the Quebec City Tourism people to put my photos onto this here blog. I've been saving up.

And now some of these photos are making me sad. I went into the garden last night and realized that I might have some more problems again this year - on close inspection, I do believe that once again, the earwigs have gotten into my peppers. Also, they are selling sweet corn everywhere along the highways of this province and others, and yet my corn has tufts but nothing else. No hint of a cob anywhere. I have one pumpkin, and that's all I think I'm going to get from my 5 vines. I have one cayenne pepper, because the beans overtook the little wee homegrown plants, and the beans are dunzo. The romaine lettuce went bitter so I've let it go to seed, and the cilantro's finally completely done and gone to seed as well. I ripped out all the potatoes I could find, which weren't many because I didn't plant them correctly this year. The garlic's done, and I don't have a bumper crop of tomatoes - of the ones I've got, none of them have started to ripen yet.

Anyway, it's not all doom and gloom, behold the photographs:

I am so proud of this garlic it's sick. And I can't wait to plant three times as much in fall, for next year. What a satisfying thing to grow! And here I thought I wasn't able - this year turned everything around, perhaps because I bought good quality seed garlic from Vesey's.

This is one side of the garden about a month ago. The big dirty bare patch is where the garlic and cilantro used to live, but have since been ripped out. I'm taking suggestions as to what to plant there for fall: spinach? Definitely more garlic, for next year.

My darling peppers, pre-earwig. How on earth can I (naturally) repel these disgusting little terrors? Do you want to know the grossest thing? I eat the peppers anyway. I wash them all out first and cut off the bad bits, but I don't waste a thing dammit.

I think this was actually last year. Yeah, looks too tidy to have been this year. Anyway, this was obviously early June, because of the peonies, but it's my front hill garden in its full messy glory.

I took this one the other morning. I had ONE mutant giant blue morning glory. That's no miracle of perspective - the other ones in the photo are normal size.

Aside from all the rotten garden news, I do have a few successes to report. My turnips are adorable and yummy, though I do have to pull them all out soon. My kale is doing well, despite the slugs on the lower leaves, which I just remove anyway. I did get a hell of a lot of cilantro and garlic and basil, and there's still a good lot of basil that I grew from seed. My one pumpkin is lovely, and I will still get some good tomatoes. I've been eating cherry tomatoes, 2 a day, every day for a few weeks now, so I guess I can count that a success too. I may still get corn, some decent peppers, and one eggplant. I may also get a couple of cucumbers, despite the cucumber beetles I keep finding.

At this rate, I won't be self-sufficient for a very long time.

So here's what I have to do differently next year:

- Fertilize with more compost. I didn't turn anything into my dirt this year and it shows.

- Try rows, instead of this over-abundant free-flowing design which only seems to encourage bugs and slugs. Since the stick ornament may be on its last legs this year (it falls apart if I so much as breathe on it), I can gut the garden in fall and re-design it.

- Mulch with straw.

- Grow more than one ground cherry, eggplant, cherry tomato, and thai basil plant.

- Plant my potatoes properly, and use real seed potatoes.

- Use floating row covers or something right off the bat to protect against cucumber beetles.

- Pay more attention to why my pumpkins are falling off at 1 inch big, and remedy it.

- Harvest beans more regularly. Move back to the purple bush beans.

- Contain the mint.

- Contain the cilantro.

- Grow more spinach.

- Don't let the lettuce get bitter. Why did I do that? I like salads.

- Let the strawberries flourish and spread.

- Put more bug-repelling ornamentals in the garden.

- Pay attention to what's going to shade what when it all grows up.

- Don't try to grow so many weird and exotic things that I don't know what to do with.

- Plant in mounds/raised rows.

- Use landscape fabric to keep the weeds out.

- Put flagstones in the entrance.

Every year is a learning experience. One of these years I'm going to get it right.

The Lumber Yard and Wilderness Tails

Well, didn't I have to go and perform more minor surgery on my arm this weekend.

The splinter I got a week ago was still greenish and festering in my arm, and I figured it had gone on just a bit too long. Finally, I cleaned it all out, sterilized a pin, and pulled out the cause of the problem. And didn't I have a 2 x 4 in my arm. OK maybe that's an exaggeration, but it was definitely kindling-worthy chunk of wood. Now that it's gone, I'm healing nicely.

On Saturday we had one of those idyllic summer days at the beach with friends. We got there on the late side of the proposed meeting time, and were the first ones there. A half hour later, up paddles another friend, one that we in error hadn't thought to invite, with his two kids. Then the others started to trickle in, and the entire day was spent as follows: heat up on the sand, then cool down in the water (repeat as needed). We ate, we drank, we floated, we tanned, and at the end of it all, as the sun went down, we all retired back to our place and ordered delicious local gourmet-type pizza and watched for meteors (we saw a spectacular one). By 11:30 everyone was gone home and the house was cleaner than it had been that morning. A perfect day.

Yesterday was hot. We did small around-the-house things. Then last night we had mouse adventures: I heard one chewing at the wall in the kitchen, behind an electrical outlet. We have mice in that spot constantly, and only in that spot, and they all seem to have the same goal in mind: chew through the drywall and get onto the counter. Did they all read the same memo? How many mice are in the house anyway? I don't have a problem with it because I've got to re-tile the kitchen anyway, and then the problem will be solved, but it's a bit irritating and gross if they eventually make it out onto the counter. I called hubby, because he is the mouse whisperer, and enjoys catching them by the tail and putting them outside alive. One night last summer he caught two after I went to bed, and dashed upstairs for show and tell. I had no idea what he was doing, so when he showed up in the bedroom with a wriggling paper bag and said "WANNA SEE WHAT I'VE GOT????" I wasn't really prepared for the two-mouse midnight experience.

This particular one, however, must have snuck some grounds out of the coffee maker, because not only was he chewing so voraciously that I heard it in the living room, but he made a speedy break for it, running under the fridge, the microwave cart, the counters, and eluded hubby. All of a sudden the cat had a mouse in the living room. We got it away from her, but it took off to the back of the house. Behind the computer it went. Then into the bathroom. Then up into the bathroom vanity. Then into the inner bathroom. Then out and into the t.v. room. I got wise and stood in the door of the t.v. room shaking a blanket so it wouldn't get out, and hubby chased it around and around the room, like, six times. It was seriously adorable, like a little wind-up toy, and hubby broke a sweat. It had the upper hand for sure. Finally it got onto the window frame, where it was trapped, and hubby picked it up by the tail, all wriggly and cute, and put it outside near the shed.

But this morning when we got up, there was a dead mouse on the living room floor. The same one? Were there two? I think there was a kitchen mouse and a living room mouse, and the kitchen mouse bit the biscuit. Neither of the cats claimed responsibility, but they both looked pretty self-satisfied this morning.

In other news, on Friday night I finally went to investigate the tree from which we heard intense screaming nearly a week before. I had been looking for the cat late at night, and apparently set this creature off, scaring it pretty bad. I located the sound just across the street from us and up a tree. When hubby went crashing through the forest with his flashlight to investigate and see if any of our cats were in trouble (Sasha was still out) it got hysterical and screamed and screamed. When we all went back onto our deck, it continued to whimper for about an hour (Sasha had, in the meantime, wandered innocently onto the deck and been put inside). Shining the flashlight upwards produced no glowing eyes, and it had pretty strong vocal cords, so when my cousin went "it almost sounds like a scared baby bear, calling for its mother", I hollered at my dear husband to exit the woods, stat. It did indeed sound like a scared baby animal crying, with good solid vocal cords, from up a tree. While on the deck we listened for momma's rescue, and we did hear crunching gravel on the road between us and the tree. Anyway, Friday evening in the daylight I went to check it out, and sure enough, among the stand of hardwood from whence the crying came, there was one tree with little climbing claw marks all up it, about one week old. Sharp claw marks. With an apple tree at its base. When we looked in the nature book we learned that bears are born in January/February, but perhaps this one was still small enough to be up a tree of about 8-9 inches in diametre. Anyway, it was sobering. So now I have new worries: momma bears in my yard, and eastern cougars in the 'hood. Do big cats eat little cats? I'm sure a bear would freak a little cat out. Add that to my list of menacing wildlife in my immediate vicinity (wolves, coyotes, fishers, bears, cougars, oh my).

Sometimes living in the country puts you face to face with just a bit too much life. At least it's never dull.

Batting a Thousand

I had the weirdest, most injurious week last week. I was off, on my last bit of vacation of the summer, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. One would think that all of that would add up to a great little holiday.

However, at the beginning of the week I was dealing with the effects of a strange medical thing. Somehow, I super-reacted to my low dose of Clomid, and developed many giant follicles/cysts on my ovaries, which led to visible bloating, pain and discomfort. Also I was thirsty and spin-heady. None of my clothes fit properly and I was grouchy, and also worried that any sexy time would lead to, like, quintuplets (ack!) so I was keeping my distance from hubby.

Monday and Tuesday, I was starting to ramp up the weirdness with a few crazy mis-haps. We were dog-sitting for my boss, whose 17-year-old terrier mutt came to live with us for the week. She was very sweet, a great houseguest. However, I guess we didn't hear her urgent little barks early Tuesday morning, because we woke up to little liquid and solid treats on our tile floor. No problem. With a sigh and some bleachy cleaner I rectified that as soon as I woke up. I believe she was apologetic, and I held no bad feelings.

But then as the week progressed I started doing really spazzy things. I went to make an espresso and didn't replace the espresso grounds, so ran it through with old grounds. Yuck.

I watered the garden with the sprinkler, left it on too long, and ran out of water for the rest of the day(we're on a well).

I stepped, barefoot, into one of the dog's little gifts in the long grass of our lawn. With my brother as witness. Har har.

My dad yanked a section of old chimney out of our concrete wall, and I was sitting on the ground and it fell squarely onto my leg. I now have a lovely large green bruise on my calf.

Then my mom came over and I made coffee, and forgot to pour the water into the coffee maker. The machine was not happy about that.

On Friday I was expecting my cousin's long-weekend visit, and was cleaning the bathroom. For some reason, I flushed a sock down the toilet. The toilet was not happy about that. I guess the sock probably isn't either, wherever it is.

I got a barn-board splinter inside my house, which is still greenish and festering in my arm, even after the minor surgery I performed to remove the largest piece.

On Saturday morning, as we were working on the siding, and right after I'd astutely proclaimed that stepping on a certain part of the deck was unsafe because of the way the boards had been replaced after a repair, I proceeded to step on that very spot and fall through the deck. Luckily I also fell backwards, so most of my body actually fell down a couple of stairs, and only my legs went through the deck. I thought for sure something was broken, but alas, only bruised and slightly scratched.

And then the coup de grâce - on Sunday we went boating on 31-mile Lake, north of our place, and as I went to spread gooey sunscreen on my arms I absent-mindedly pulled off my wedding rings. Stupid move. I tossed my engagement ring right overboard, off of a moving boat, into 100 feet of water. Gone. What a totally sick feeling. It wasn't enormously valuable in terms of money but had tremendous sentimental value to me, and I miss it a lot. I feel naked. I loved that ring, it was so me. Hopefully I can have a friend re-create it, thereby instilling the new one with its own meaning. (sniff)

Then we left my husband's glasses on my parents' boat, which stays up at the lake. Which is an hour away from our house.

Monday was a chilled-out day. Nothing went very wrong, except that my mom and I had to take 3 hours and a significant amount of gasoline to drive up and get the glasses (hubby could hardly see through his old ones), and almost didn't make it back in time for my boss to pick up her dog.

I tell you, I was almost happy to come back to work. Knock on wood, nothing has been overly weird since. My husband said "yeah I wasn't going to say anything but I wasn't so crazy about you driving last week." He was right to be worried; I was truly a danger unto myself.

We're getting ready for another weekend. Tomorrow is a beach day with a bunch of friends, and I am leaving my wedding ring at home and bringing band-aids.