Spring Things

Oy vey it's going to be a warm weekend, and I am so looking forward to losing our snow you have no idea.

We ran out of firewood about two weeks ago. We borrowed a batch from my parents, and hubby dug a pile of it out from underneath the snow last weekend (he had to split it, it was all wet, etc.), but it still hasn't been enough to indulge in fires on days that are not the coldest. If it goes below minus ten, sure, but above that, we've been sucking it up and wearing polar fleece.

I have a number of objectives for this spring (spring being defined as March, April, May). They are:
- start my seeds in the basement grow-op: zinnias, tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, basil, and melons.
- install a new white tiled backsplash in my kitchen, to replace the beige/orange daisies we currently enjoy.
- chop down/thin out some of the cedar trees in the woods beside the house.
- get back into the groove of doctor's appointments that I've been neglecting.
- slip-cover my sofa.
- build a long raised bed out of previously-cut cedars from beside our house.
- Fix the fences on my veggie garden. Weed garden.
- Evaluate the perennial garden. Remove/move wrong or wrongly-placed things.
- Hire someone to replace my eavestrough and install sofit.
- Meet the guy from the municipality where our land is and tackle all the permits, assessments, etc.
- Install a cable run for Rosie somewhere where she won't get all tangled up but can still run around.
- Begin the siding project for one more (final) year.

Then we'll be on to summer. I think that's very reasonable, considering that I could do the first two in the coming two weekends, doctors' appointments are currently booked, and my mom is on the slip-cover case. Hubby loves to use his chainsaw, so he will be in charge of thinning the cedars. A number of things can't be started until late April, so everything has its place.

I am watching the sun shine into my dirty office windows, and it's 4:58 p.m. Daylight Savings is this weekend, which is wonderful, and means that while it'll be miserably dark when I get up in the morning, Rosie might sleep until 6:30 like she's supposed to, and by the time we get home at night, it'll be full-on bright when we take her for her walk.

I have a stressful week here at work next week, so wish me luck!

Sleep well, little magazine

A few weeks ago I learned that one of my new favorite magazines was folding permanently. This recession has been a bugger for the publishing industry (according to all the sad stories on my one source: Gawker); logically, advertising is really low, luxury brands are tanking and a number of less-relevant publications have consequently met their maker.

Domino was one of those magazines that I wanted to hate. Kind of smug, cliquey, they guilelessly promoted a whole lot of products affordable to not many people. Their ‘look’ was deceptively high-end; often kind of boho, but with a very professional price tag. The people they featured in their pages lived extravagant lives, like the painter who lives in an open-air villa on acreage in Africa or the textile scion in the fancy Moroccan country home. To a certain extent, this is common fodder for decorating magazines, but in Domino, everyone was approximately 40 and lived the kind of lives where I would constantly ask myself “how in the hell can they afford to live like that? Who ARE these people?”

All this aside, what I liked about Domino is that the aesthetic was eclectic, colourful, a bit hippie sometimes, and unafraid to celebrate complete over-the-top decorating insanity. One recent issue celebrated the home of LA designer Kelly Wearstler, totally filled with giant useless objects, brass, and patterns so crazy and mismatched that if I visited for tea, I would completely miss the couch. The wallpaper (designed by Wearstler herself) reminded me of the oceanfront condo my grandparents rented in Panama City Beach in the 1980s. In the article, they promoted the decorator’s own line of tchotchkas, including a brass ashtray-looking candy dish-thingy for $995 and several useless and gaudy small stone boxes for over $1,000 each. It was so delightfully insane. I like to see how the other half lives, and I also enjoy a good train wreck. I feel smug reading about people who revel in a complete loss of perspective.

Alongside the nuttiness, there were some profiled homes that I could really get behind. I learned that Thom Felicia from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy has the world’s most beautiful cottage. I was inspired by a small one-room kit home that was built in the woods somewhere by a couple of people in a week or so. There was a British woman, a friend of one of the writers, who bought an old home somewhere in the country and re-did it in the most wonderfully colourful and loopy way. I applaud the magazine for letting us into these inspiring spaces.

Overall, what I gathered from this magazine more than any other out there were ideas. The objects in Domino were usually things that I could keep in mind and attempt to replicate at home, search for at garage sales, re-finish, or emulate by splurging on a small piece of fabric or something small to jazz up a whole room. It gave me the inspiration to buy a bright turquoise vinyl and wood platform rocker from a former local nunnery, and pair it with a zebra-print cushion, and place in the corner of my bright orange tv room. I drank martinis and happily wallpapered my walk-in-closet in leopard print and hung my scarves and purses and shoes all over it. It reinforced my love of large plants, paired with old framed botanical prints. I became unafraid to mis-match all my cushions, inspired by both Domino and What Not to Wear, where Stacey and Clinton are forever reminding us that “it doesn’t have to match, it just has to go.” Everything in my house just kind of goes. Very few things match.

These are the sources that reinforce, rather than dictate, my own personal style. Before Domino, I’d never seen a North American decorating magazine that celebrated the eclectic to this extent (from France, Maison Français is excellent – the French do high-class kooky very well). I’d always bumped along thinking that my own personal style was sort of hobo-garbage-dump-meets 5-year-old-kid, but it turns out that there are other people doing similar things, and much much better. It allowed me to see what the progression of my decorating style might be, as I transition from my broke-ass-poor 20s into my rather more comfortable mid-30s – from using garbage and hand-me-downs by necessity to seeking out just the right kinds of garbage and hand-me-downs. I could never put my finger on what my own style is, but in Domino, I could see it all played out, in various colours and options and price points.

All this being said, I will never become a Kelly Wearstler. I still get tremendous satisfaction from finding stuff in the trash and fixing it up. Though I now understand that this is illegal, some of my nicest furniture was found late at night before garbage day, hauled back to our home by hand or in the trunk of our car, and stripped/re-upholstered/painted/reinforced/patched up. Via this method, we proudly acquired hubby’s dresser (a beautiful wooden wave-front cabinet made in Quebec in the 60s), a lovely dressing room chair, a kitchen chair, a silver kitchen chair (decorative – I still have to fix the seat), a bamboo outdoor chair, a child’s chair, used as a plant shelf…. I seem to have a thing for chairs. I adore chairs. Also people tend to throw them out often for some reason. What we didn’t get in the garbage, we inherited from family members, bought at garage sales, or were given as gifts. The only ‘new’ items of furniture we own are our couch (no longer new) and our bed. Posh for me is splurging on something new at Ikea. I can’t foresee a day when this won’t be the case.

I will miss Domino. I will miss their zany decorating profiles, their weird “Can This Outfit Be Turned Into A Room?” feature, their little sticky tabs, the profiles of working professionals who come home on a weeknight and host 12 for dinner – Easy! – and their monthly human guinea pig article. I will miss those $1,000 ashtrays and $250/yard textiles. I gained a lot of great ideas from that magazine, which I will take to the bank. Meanwhile, when I need inspiration I will trudge down to the big magazine store and seek out Maison Française. R.I.P Domino – no surprise you folded in a recession, but it was sure fun while it lasted.

In Pursuit of Happiness

So there’s this lady, Gretchen Rubin, who made a pact with herself a number of years ago to ‘be happy.’ She went about it in a very scientific manner, studying all kinds of philosophical, psychological and logistical methods for improving happiness to find out which one would work in various situations. She turned this study into the Happiness Project, an online resource of insights, tips, and interviews with happy people in the form of a daily blog, which she dutifully writes 6 days of every week. She has a list of 12 life commandments which she’s developed for herself, and encourages everyone to write their own list and begin their own Happiness Project.

I can’t decide if I this is incredibly thoughtful, useful, or self-indulgent. It kind of reminds me of those online quizzes, or the “25 Random Things About Me” on Facebook over-sharing kind of internet phenomena, like this here blog.

I am a fan of over-sharing. I don’t know why, or what aspect of my personality finds it so appealing to tell everyone everything about myself, but I find that when I meet people I have an overwhelming desire to recount all the daily minutia of my life. I guess that’s why the “25 Things” activity, and others like it - which land in my email inbox every so often (“what’s your favourite flower?” “when’s the last time you cried?”) appeal to me so much. Guilty pleasure. If I dig a little more deeply, I guess I have a fear of seeming boring or socially retarded as I can be kind of quiet and awkward, so I overcompensate with factoids. I make a great cocktail party guest. I nod a lot.

My suspicion is that writing stuff down makes me more clearly able to assess. Or writing down certain answers makes me feel good about the kind of person I am or ought to be. Weird.

Anyway, I read her blog for a bit. As someone who struggles with the question of basic happiness on a regular basis – I always seem to be dissatisfied with something – I found it interesting to imagine a rigorous process through which we might correct ourselves in negative moments and remain happy. Or at least happier.

Aside from all of the insights, and the psychological tricks required to keep myself ‘thinking’ happy, I believe I have a list of physical requirements for happiness that must be met, and are much easier to quantify. Herein is my list of 8 physical requirements for happiness:

A full stomach. I can’t even think straight if I’m hungry, and I can get really snappy.
The correct temperature. I need to be relatively cool in the summer and warm in the winter.
Comfortable feet. Nothing can ruin my day more than barking dogs.
A clean body. If I catch a whiff of an errant or unexpected smell, I will be ‘off’ all day long.
Clothes that fit well. No distracting pulling or pinching or bagging or sagging.
A comfortable place to sit. I will choose a restaurant or other public place based on the comfort level of its seating. I have a sensitive tushie. I’m like the princess on the pea.
A quiet place to which I can retreat. As a proven introvert, this is very important. Like a dog, I need my own den.
Lots of sleep. Duh.

Most of these are abundantly obvious to any human, but I feel like they need to be itemized before we can dig into any psychological rules, which I’m still elaborating for myself.

Overall, I am pleased to report that I am a much happier person than I was a decade ago. There’s a certain happiness that comes with contentment, of course, and age and wisdom. Maturity teaches you not to sweat the small stuff or to be completely self-absorbed, and I’m sure hormones iron themselves out around your thirties as well. But as someone who once struggled with depression (and I can’t call it major, in retrospect, but it affected my quality of life at the time) I can say that I’m pleased as punch to feel the way I do most of the time. I have a few little secrets up my sleeve.

More on this tomorrow.

Spring fever

It’s got me. It’s got me bad. Like the trees that I saw poking out of the snow last week sporting tiny little buds, I am starting to feel spring in my bones. There’s no practical explanation for it – it was -24 this morning, when I walked the dog in the darkness – but the days are getting slightly longer and as a result, the trees are in bud and the seed catalogues have come in the mail. Like clockwork.

I promised myself I wouldn’t go insane this year. For logical reasons, I plan to hold back on the ambitious and usually-unsuccessful experiments. This year, we need to replace or resurface our deck, which will not only take time but also take up space. We will also be overseeing the construction of my brother-in-law’s cottage and starting to clear our own land, which we will be using on many weekends. I am not going to attempt to do planters of flowers on the deck this year because as much as I love them in June, in July they always get ignored and bake to death and end up looking awful. I had visions of window boxes on the north side filled with coleus and other shade-loving plants, but somehow I think if it’s not in the books in January it won’t be in the books in June.

This year, I really do want to focus on having a great veggie harvest. I am more and more interested in sustainability, which for me includes being self-sufficient as much as possible. I like to think of myself as an island. It’s delusional, yes, but it keeps me going.

The one large project I will take on, aside from the deck, is a new bed at the back of the house, on the south side. I want to cut some of the scrappy cedars out of our forest, which will open it up a bit for other plants to grow and also cut down on the bugs, increase the breeze, etc. I will then use these bits of cedar (and some metal spikes) to build a raised bed, about 18” high and 20” wide, along the wall at the back. I will build a trellis up the wall as well. Into this raised bed will go gravel, a batch of fresh compost, peat moss to absorb the roof run-off, black earth and maybe some sheep manure or something. I will plant this area in a concerted way with my squash vines, so they don’t trouble the veggie garden. I will surround it with copper mesh, so the slugs can’t get any purchase on my beloved squash. Dammit, I will have squash this year. If I have to cut down trees to create sunlight, I will have squash this year.

I have ordered some seeds, against my better judgement. Yes I have a two-litre tub in the basement filled with seed packets, but I can’t rely on their viability. Some of them are pretty ancient. I have ordered from Greta’s Organic Gardens once again, despite having mixed results last year (tomatoes were tinier than expected, melons didn’t really germinate, squash did nothing). I have ordered the elusive kale, which I will inter-plant with my garlic for a late harvest. I will plant a lot, so boerenkool all winter! I have ordered two kinds of tomatoes – one is an early harvest type, and the other is called ‘winter-keeper’ and apparently if you pick them slightly unripe, they will last up to 4 months in a cool dark place. Fruit flies here I come.

Also in my order are butternut squash and tiny little melons, which apparently ripen early. I love melon in summertime. You always have dessert ready! Lately we’re really into grapefruits. Dessert is either a grapefruit or yoghurt. Anyway I am off-track. In addition to that, I will grow peppers and small eggplants in pots on the deck – red pots – because I have had no success in the garden and they need more sun. Baking is good, as long as I water them every night. Also I can keep the earwigs and slugs at bay a lot more effectively in pots.

The main garden will be focused on: Tomatoes (x2), onions, basil, kale, garlic, mint, strawberries, beans, carrots and cucumbers. And cilantro, inevitably.

The new bed in back will be: butternut squash (they’re a compact variety, bush-style), melons, and zucchini (up the trellis in back). This bed will be about 10’ long. If that’s all too much, maybe I’ll do the zucchini in the garden as they’re easier to grow.

I will plant potatoes in the potato bin once again, as that was pretty successful. Last year’s successes were pretty much only potatoes, garlic and onions.

I’m giving up on all herbs that aren’t basil or cilantro. Turns out, I don’t use them. Maybe I’ll try a bit of dill for fish.

As for annuals, I want to get a few to fill in the perennial bed – orange poppies, maybe calendula. I have some other planters that need filling but I promise not to go nuts. I really want cannas but that has never really worked for me. Maybe this will be my year.

Finally, perennials. I always have to wait to see what lived through the winter before buying anything new for the spring. There’s a weird garden area at the back of my place that needs something permanent and ground-covering, so I may invest in that a bit – perhaps a variety of hostas would do the trick. They’re so low-maintenance - I love them.

This post has been very helpful. I have now made a shopping list, and will attempt to stick to it. I promise.

A Really Uneventful Week

So nothing much happened this week. Just status quo. Nothing to watch on t.v., no exciting international events, nothing. Yawn. What a tedious week.

Oh except for that whole Barack-Obama-thing. But what's so exciting about that? So he's the first African-American US President. So he's young and sexy. Who cares that he has a gorgeous amazon of a wife? And the fact that he's been in office only two days and is already on his way to fixing everything is so banal.

In all seriousness, it's like the second coming. I am a huge fan. I drank the kool-aid and loved it! Gimme more! I could not watch ENOUGH inauguration footage. I even watched the boring marching bands (actually not so boring - did you see the one with the ladies in the gold pants?) I worry that he's going to burn himself out though. I mean, save some work for next week. Take the weekend off. I love how he's like "this morning: shut down Guantanamo and broker peace in the Middle East. This afternoon: cap salaries and make government more transparant. Make peace with Cuba. Then have an open-house party, confirm my Secretary of State, and re-take my oath. Tomorrow maybe I'll work on the economy. On Friday: fix the environment." And I thought my schedule was tough.

At least he works from home.

In other news, my parents are in Cuba. Rosie's been at day-care all week and she's so pooped. Every morning now, she stands at the door and looks at me beseechingly, like 'please can't I just spend 11 quiet hours sleeping in my crate today?' but she's still so excited when she gets there she's totally out of control. It's a little embarrassing. I worry about her throat and neck because she pulls so hard, she barrels in the door to go find her friends, which is technically bad behaviour but so damn cute because all the dogs seem wait for her. Cesar Millan would not approve. Anyway she's a peach at home, so Cesar was right: exercise, discipline and affection in that order. Except that with the first and the last, the middle one is almost totally unnecessary. She's been really good all week. It's hard for her to get into crap when she's lying on the floor snoring.

Parental units are getting back tomorrow so Rosie will be back to normal. She will be beyond excited to see gramma, and will likely pee all over the place.

Also, on Saturday Farley goes to his new parents. We said "anytime after 9 am would be fine" and the husband said "we will be there at 9:01." I love that they are so excited. Farley got fixed (he would argue that he was not broken) on Tuesday, to celebrate the inauguration, and he looks like a little baboon with his shaved arse. Poor guy. I wonder if it's cold? I have pre-warned the new parents not to be put off by the baldness. Farley seems perfectly happy, like he has no clue what happened, which is for the best I guess. Tomorrow night I will brush him again for one last time (I've already removed a bunch of dreadlocks, most noteably from under his chin), and attempt to cut his toenails so he's all ready to be on his best behaviour at his new house. I won't be at all sad to see him go, because I know he's going to the best possible home.

So after this weekend we should be back to normal. I promise to clean out the basement and maybe even start letting Rosie down there. It'll be nice and cool for her in the summer.

Last weekend was a blast: we took Rosie to town. She was great! She only tried to jump on a couple of people but it was pretty easy to deal with using the harness. She sniffed the ground constantly, which made me realize that the city's a horrible place for dogs. There's crap everywhere! Cigarette butts, frozen vomit, food bits, garbage - it's so distracting for a country dog! That's likely why she was too busy to jump on anyone. But she walked beside us, was friendly to strangers (especially those carrying bags of food), was very popular, sat before crossing the street and was not at all put off by the traffic. It was total saturation. We were walking around for an hour and a half and she slept all evening long, she was so exhausted.

The next day my brother, his girlfriend, hubby and I took the dogs up the mountain for some snowshoeing, which was beautiful and exhausted the dogs once again, and then we all went out for dinner (not the dogs) for his girlfriend's birthday. Fun times.

We went skiing Monday. God we sound so active. And god, we are not really. I have sat on the couch and knitted a sweater every evening since. It's coming along though! I'll be on to the sleeves soon enough.

That's all I've got for now, but WHAT an exciting week! Jam-packed full of heart-warming goodness.

See?

Gorgeous.

Weekly check-in

Hi all, it's time for a check-in. Last time I wrote all about Harry/Farley, our little basement tenant. I have spent the last several days thinking about the following things:

- seed catalogues have started arriving, and I have been looking even though last year I SWORE I had WAY TOO MANY SEEDS and would NOT be buying ANYTHING this year. Ha.

- we bought our ski passes yesterday. Now we have to figure out when to use them.

- Mom and Dad are off to Cuba on Friday. That means Rosie gets to go to daycare every day for a week! Wow will that ever be fun for all of us.

- tomorrow's temperature is supposed to be something insane like minus 48 or something. I got a new coat in the mail, which weighs exactly zero grams, and am excited to check it out.

Picture my head on here. And my hands.

- Harry/Farley continues to do well. No changes there, except that his new parents are beyond excited to meet him.

- I love my job. I get to look at art all day. It's rough, people, but somebody has to do it.

- Am waiting on the two new magazine subscriptions that hubby got me for xmas: Dwell, and Cottage Life.

- I am now an amateur architect (ahem), and so have designed about 6 different cottages on my computer, all under 850 square feet. It's hard to stop. We are gonna go to the cottage show in April and do some learnin'.

- No clue what to do for dinner. I'm thinking aloud here. Nothing is thawed and the kitchen is a disaster zone. Takeout? This is one of the downsides of living in the country: no chinese takeout. I am falling down on the dinner front lately. The produce is suffering.

- I have a weird urge to make a cake. A real, decorated, honest-to-goodness-with-homemade-frosting cake. I am going to make one for my new boss' farewell party next friday. He's moving to Australia. I am trying not to take it personally. Should I make cake for dinner?

- Rosie is now not so good at sleeping in the bed. She tends to sleep in the upper part, where we are, and she sleeps sideways. Ergo, hubby and I have not really slept well for the last few nights. She's still sweet though, so she gets away with it, though half the time I think she's fake-sleeping so we can't move her.

- I need plants for my office. I have stolen two cuttings off of some existing office plants, but am also considering an aloe, a small palm, and maybe one of those plants you can grow in a goldfish bowl with a beta fish swimming around the roots. I need some life at the office and I don't think they want me to bring Rosie in for the day.

- I have the urge these days to bring Rosie into the city. Crazy, I know, but I want to see how she does when there are TOO many people to jump on and TOO many cars to get excited about and TOO many other dogs to sniff. I think she will be humbled, and I want to see that. She's a country dog, so she still gets overly excited at every passing pedestrian or car. I want to see how she does on a busy sidewalk with traffic passing beside us - to see if she actually becomes blasé about it at some point. In her harness, of course. I guess I'm a bit late to the game on this one but there haven't been a lot of opportunities. I also need to post more pictures of her, to here and on facebook, so you all can enjoy her beauty. I can't say this enough: world's most gorgeous dog.
I'm actually a bit embarrassed by it, like people will think I strive for the most beautiful dog and spend money and time in the pursuit of that, but it's all natural. I think she could work in Hollywood.

- We're running out of firewood. OK it's getting to the end of this post; I have run out of things to say.

Enjoy the week, folks. We're heading into a crazy cold snap so I will be unashamedly wearing silly hats for the next 5 days, bad hair be damned.

It's never dull

Phew.

The holidays are over and I'm back at work, staring at a snowstorm and eating a falafel sandwich. I craved garlic after a coworker microwaved her garlicky lunch in the kitchen adjacent to my office. Mmmm garlic. I am so susceptible. Also, the snow seems to be falling upwards.

We had a great time. The family was wonderful; they loved their land that we bought them with their money, Christmas gifts were all a great success in both directions, we bowled, we snow-shoed, we ate, we pipe-dreamed, we drank, and I learned how to play canasta. Nasty canasta.

When Christmas was over and the Austrians left, on Dec. 29 (Rosie's first birthday!), I had another challenge ahead of me. As we had lost our Loki, and hubby had posted notices all over town looking for him, my kindergarten teacher - with whom I am in touch regularly - called me to let me know that she had a stray black cat around her place and would I come take a look? I knew in my gut that it wasn't Loki (too far away) but I went anyway. It turned out to be a sort of ratty-looking long-haired black cat, who was very friendly. I promised my teacher that I'd make him my problem, since she didn't want to encourage him to stick around and he was getting kind of skinny. She was concerned but really didn't want a cat.

I brought him home and installed him in our basement apartment, which is apparently a popular spot for transients and needy folk of all kinds (my busted-up neighbor, our friend whose house burned down, our friend who couldn't afford rent in town). I started to feed him, and brush him. I brushed out about a pound of dull, unused fur. I learned that he is an intact male and that his pee stinks real bad. I also learned that he has worms and possible other parasites, so I made an appointment to bring him to the vet, before he could pass anything to my other pets.

I brought him in on the weekend, and when we got there, the nurse asked me "what's this cat's name?" I went "uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Harry? 'Cause he's hairy?" and then Harry had his first vet check-up. We learned that he's one year old at the very most, probably younger. We learned that he is 10 lbs. We learned that he's an excellent patient (he's very friendly) who didn't complain at all when he got his shots. We learned that he hasn't got fleas, but that he had a terrible yeast infection in his ears. I made him an appointment to be neutered as well, just in case I couldn't find him a home in time and he starts spraying my house or fighting with the neighbors.

All in all, he's a healthy and friendly little bugger. I was starting to get a wee bit attached, despite my dislike of long-haired cats, which is not his fault. I put him back in the basement for now, and upgraded his food a bit. Hubby decided he liked the name 'Farley' better so now he's 'Harry/Farley'. I continue to brush him and feed him cod liver oil, as part of his makeover.

On Monday, hubby went to work and put out the word that we have a cat up for grabs. One of his most-liked coworkers said "as a matter of fact, we have been looking for a cat for our 12-year-old daughter." Turns out, she wants a long-haired, friendly, young cat, black is ok, and male is preferred. They had been looking for one at the SPCA for some time with no luck. Harry/Farley had her at hello, or rather, once she saw the pictures hubby took of him.

I suspect he may be full of beans. Ssh.

So Harry/Farley has found a forever home, starting January 24. They are over the moon and excited to meet him. Hubby has great respect for this lady and says she will be a great cat mom. It is a perfect match, and it warms the cockles of my little heart. There is something karmically good about this.

In other pet news, Sasha's getting along much better with Rosie, since Loki's gone. They even kiss and will sleep next to each other, which is really big news as she's spent the last 10 months avoiding Rosie completely. Rosie turned one on Dec. 29, and got lots of toys for her birthday and christmas, as well as a 'happy birthday' dog cookie with dog-friendly icing. She had no idea what was going on. She was ok with the visitors but she jumped on them incessantly, so I guess she wasn't really that ok. We're just used to it. She is on big-dog food (no more puppy food), and we've gradually cut out lunch, and she'll be happy to be back to her routine. She's better when she knows her parameters. She is still knock-out gorgeous.

But there has been one big change: Rosie now sleeps on the bed. Something I said I'd never do. Now that Loki's gone, she's great on the bed and sleeps like a rock - no more spite-peeing! She actually sleeps in. Sasha will also sleep on the bed some nights. In the mornings, Rosie wriggles up and continues to sleep wedged between us - it's pretty cute. Once the novelty of this wears off, I am hoping that she'll sleep anywhere, preferably on the floor next to our bed. We shall see. In the meantime, don't judge me. We no longer have a working heater in the bedroom. I am used to having warm snuggly animal bodies on the bed and was missing one of mine.

T-Minus 4 Days

Today is Dec. 15. That means several things:

- Austrians arrive in four days;
- Today is my last day in my current job;

- Loki's been missing for 11 days;

- Tomorrow is my first day at my new job.

Some of those are happy and some are obviously not.

In spite of our recent tragedy, I've been able to accomplish many of my listed items in advance of xmas.

On Saturday I went shopping with my mom and bought one of everything I saw. Or so it seemed. Christmas shopping has now tipped the scale from mostly-not-done to mostly-done.

On Sunday we cleaned the house. Most of the house. It's gotten to the point where we're only cleaning the visible areas - the basement is now at the bottom of the priority list. Each area we approach we ask ourselves "are our guests really going to see this?" and if the answer's no, we leave it a hairy mess.

Also on Sunday, I fixed a few things in the bathroom. It now is almost presentable. However, the décor is rather strange; it's like two rooms in one. If you turn one way, it's a vivid green room with lots of knicknacks, if you turn the other, it's a study in subtle browns and off-whites. I will make my mind up some other day.

Also also on Sunday, I baked cookies. Four kinds of cookies, not all successful. I bought waaay too much butter, so I can re-make some of the cookies if need be. My 'Chewy Ginger Cookies' became 'crispy burnt ginger pancakes', as I guestimated the amount of butter I used. Hubby says they're wonderful so he gets all 96 of them. The pecans on the bottom of the Swedish Tea Rings burnt, and so I yanked them out of the oven and then added the jam too late, so it didn't get to cook into the cookies. Half of my lemon-poppyseed-cranberry cookies were burnt on the bottom, and the ones on the other ends of the trays were under-cooked. I have determined that I need a new oven, or need to be more on top of the one I've got. I have to watch it like a hawk.

Another thing I have to watch like a hawk? Rosie, my soap-eating dog.

Friday night I bought a big pack of soap bars and put them in a big jar with a lid on the bathroom vanity. Two bars didn't fit, so I opened the drawer, put them in the back, and closed it again. Rosie was watching me the whole time. I went into the kitchen to speak to hubby, and about 10 minutes later Rosie came wandering in smacking her lips. I said "what have you got there?" 'cause she's always chewing on something or other, and I hooked my finger into her mouth. It came out frothy and smelling of lavendar. I yelled "oh shit!" and ran to the bathroom, where I discovered the drawer open, and BOTH bars of soap lying on the ground. Or rather, 1.2 bars of soap. She ate the other 0.8, paper and all. We called the emergency vet line, and they said "unless you can deal with two to three days of diarrhea, you should induce vomiting." So we did, with hydrogen peroxide (gross), which made her visibly recoil after she drank it.

She sat there, looking as green as a black lab can look, ears pinned to her head with sad little eyes. Then she belched.

Then 3 minutes later she barfed. It came out like a milkshake, mixed with her dinner. It was a frothy white puddle of lavendar-smelling puke, really pleasant to clean up. She did it once again after I went to bed - with soap chunks this time - and then she was totally fine. Lesson learned: get kiddy locks for bathroom drawers, in case she acquires a taste for toothpaste, allergy pills, hair gel, tylenol, or any other potentially-deadly bathroom things.

She is clever, my Rosie: clever enough to open drawers, but not quite clever enough not to eat soap.

One other new development before I head off to my new job - Sasha, my female cat, has become a lot more tolerant of Rosie in Loki's absence. Who knows what goes on in their minds or their communication, but Sasha's become a bit more self-confident and she can now comfortably lie on the couch with the dog, without any claws or chasing or anything. This is big news. Sasha's lived on top of the red chair and on the kitchen table since last February, as she never developed the required sense of humour to deal with the puppy. Hence she weighs about 25 lbs - from all the sitting around and the stress eating. Rosie's more mellow now (imperceptibly, I'm sure), and they're coming around.

I may or may not have time to write again before my holidays (17 days off woooooo!) so if I don't, have a happy one.

...And a big dose of bad news

Our wee family has experienced an enormous tragedy: Loki has gone missing.

I don't even really know how to write about this. I've never imagined it happening, while at the same time I've always imagined it happening. It was always my worst possible scenario, the thing I would lay awake at night and worry about.

Turns out, I was right to worry. Generally, I didn't even think about it during the winter, when he didn't love staying outside long, and predators are fewer and kept at bay by deep snow. But last Friday, he went outside at lunchtime when my mom went to feed the dog (as he always did), and wasn't there at 7 p.m. when we got home (like he always was). We called and called. Hubby stayed up all night. The next morning, we called all the neighbors. Nobody'd heard or seen anything. Not a trace! We searched the forests, but the falling snow made everything disappear. We've put up signs, but nobody's called.

I have had a rotten week. I have a deep hurt, and it feels like a hole in my chest. I swear it gave me a respiratory disease - last weekend I couldn't catch my breath, it felt like someone was sitting on me. I've had a busy week at work so I haven't had a lot of time to think about it, but every horrible eventuality pops into my head, and I can't deal with it. I really cannot deal with this.

Loki was the world's greatest cat. Bar none, apologies to the rest. He was wise, intuitive, wiley, sensitive, hilarious, independent, patient, and a terrific partner to Sasha. He was quick-witted, and we thought of him as the King of the forest. After 7 years of prowling the woods, he knew every stick and leaf. We never knew where he went, but he was at home everywhere, supremely confident and calm. Every autumn, when the days got shorter and the temperatures colder, Loki would grow visibly depressed, and spend his days curled up on the bed or in his red chair. He'd go out for a bit, but would mostly mope around the house. Come spring, he was reanimated, and the birds of the neighborhood suffered for it. I have seen that cat training Sasha to hunt, and bringing a mouse home as a gift to her. For a couple of years, dead rodents would turn up on the deck just as we went out to light the BBQ, and we always suspected he was asking us to grill up his dinner.

When we had people over or even large parties, Loki was always in the middle, getting to know everyone, laying in their coats - especially if the guest wore cologne - and generally enjoying himself. He was very popular among humans. I have actually picked him up upon return from one of his adventures, and he smelled like perfume or flowers. He would demand a shower from the bathroom tap every night before we went to bed, so we'd scrub water into his head while he stared at himself in the mirror, purring. He was very debonnair. He loved to eat people food, especially garlicky things like hummus, and loved to nibble on chives. He made his dislikes known as well - two weeks ago I was using a lightbulb tester on my xmas lights, and it emits a weird beeping when the tested circuit is good. After I'd been at it for 5 minutes, with Loki staring at me impatiently from the table above, he hopped down, quickly and lightly bit my hand, and ran away. Some mornings, especially weekend mornings when we were slower to get up, I'd feel something strange on my face and find Loki staring at me from 1/4 inch away, his whiskers tickling my lips. He'd then hop off the bed and tip over the garbage can, scrunch up a few plastic bags, knock chapsticks (or water glasses) off the bedside table, and generally be a pain until we woke up and fed him.

When he was just a kitten, and we lived in our apartment, every night he had what we would call 'Monkey Hour', when he'd just run up and down the hall for no apparent reason, and don't get in his way because he'd plow right into you. He'd get crazy eyes, and would run sideways he was so keyed up. After that was done, he'd settle in for the night. We worried about the Christmas tree the first year, but he knocked one bulb off once, and that was it.

He never had any health issues. He disliked the vet ferociously, and when poor Dr. Fro would hear that Loki was coming in, he needed to gather his special equipment. A heavy blanket to cover him up, and long falconer-type gloves to wear. Once upon a time Loki had his anal glands expressed by the vet, and he never forgot it. He would act like a total embarrassing jackass - panting and moaning all the way there (a hellish 10-minute drive), and snorting and snarling once he was on the table. I would feel like an embarrassed parent, repeating "I swear, he's not really like this." Still, he went in for all his regular appointments and shots, and was the picture of health. He lost a lot of weight this past year, probably due to the dog, who had him on the run constantly, but also probably because he was on diet food since Sasha is morbidly obese.

His last year wasn't the best of his life, and I feel guilty about that, because Rosie was just starting to leave him alone and be a nice companion for him. They were actually starting to like each other. I knew it would happen - didn't know it would take so long - but I feel like perhaps Loki felt he was getting short shrift, that he'd been knocked down a peg in the attention game. That could never be the case. Every morning I would cuddle with him for a minute and remind him that I loved him. I know he's not reading this, but for the record, I paid him less attention because I knew he could withstand it, and I knew he understood. He knew intuitively that Rosie was a puppy, and had great patience with her. He watched where he put his claws.

Loki will be missed by all of us. Our friends, our family, everyone who knew him. I won't focus on the specifics of what may have happened to him, but I feel like he went out like a warrior, doing what he loved best to do. He's gone to Valhalla, as it were, and I hope whatever happened was brief and worthy. Farewell, brave Loki. I love you.

1998 - 2008.

A Little Good News

Work has been a total pain in my ass lately.

Not only am I spending all my spare time preparing for Christmas in the usual harried ways, but I am also working overtime to make the house function/look decent in anticipation of our Austrian guests, who arrive in 16 days. You can imagine that I am feeling a bit stretched – I seem to fall asleep around 8:30 p.m. every evening for a short bit – especially when you take into account that I have four events to organize next week and one the week after. These aren’t cakewalk events either; they’re high-stakes.

I’ve been doing this job for just about five years. In February, it will be my anniversary. It’s the type of job that requires a good deal of energy and inspiration, both to come up with new and exciting ideas, but also to see through the administrative/financial/political things inevitably get in the way and to push through with any enthusiasm left. I have liked this job quite a lot and been proud of my accomplishments. It has afforded me many opportunities that I wouldn’t otherwise have ever had, and for that I am thankful. I have traveled. I have met really really interesting people. I have stayed in very nice hotels and eaten at top-drawer restaurants and stolen all the best hotel toiletries (I never buy soap!). I have been to Rideau Hall on a number of occasions, and have a black-tie section in my wardrobe to prove it.

Lately though, people have been getting plucky. Emails are getting ruder and ruder, things are being forgotten or overlooked, and colleagues are getting snippy or emotional. Maybe I am guilty of this as well, I can’t tell. It happens at this time every year – the year is a cycle, and we are at the end of it and all ready for vacation. We are all bone weary and like siblings stuck in the back seat of a car on a long drive, we’re starting to pick at each other. On the 19th we will have our Christmas party (excuse me – Holiday party) and everyone will sit together in their little groups and lick their wounds, and drink like fish at lunchtime, and pull the curtains and pretend it’s evening so the dance floor fills up. Everyone will then go their separate ways and heal themselves before returning for a new cycle.

So a week ago, when the Human Resources department called me up to tell me that I’d won the competition for a new position, I was beyond happy. I am ready for a change, but not so much change that I would leave the organization, and not so much change that I don’t want to have a fall-back position. I will fill a two-year term as a program officer in the Visual Arts section, which means I will manage several of the granting programs in that discipline. I get a new office, a new batch of coworkers, a new floor and even new art on the walls. I get exciting new duties and lots of contact with the arts community. I start on December 16, and will come back to my current job on March 30, 2011, unless something catastrophic happens. This is a big deal for me – I have wanted this job for a long time.

Yay to me. I am thrilled. I am trying to pack up my current office in the midst of all these events, figure out what my successor will want or need to use, and still deal with the demands of coworkers, run all of my errands and do all of my shopping in between. The house is a complete disaster but I’m saving that task for a later date. I only have two hands and 24 hours in a day.

Change of plans

Funny how things can change each week, huh?

Each week has it's own set of feelings and focus and activities, I find. Just an observation.

There's nothing bad happening, for those family members who might read this and think the worst. In fact, only good things are happening: I found out on Monday that my Austrian family will be visiting us from December 16 to 30.

I am thrilled. I haven't seen my nephew, who is 13, in a year and a half. And now we get to share christmas with them! Normally christmas is pretty rote in our house - we buy a tree from the same place each year, on the same weekend, and I decorate it listening to the same christmas CD as every other year. We have a dinner xmas eve, go to my parents' xmas morning, have dinner at my parents' xmas night, and head to my grandmother's place usually boxing day or so, for a night. My brother has a ripping new years' eve party, and we hang around the house and eat a lot.

So this year, where I'd planned to be quite low-key, in fact I'm going to go balls-to-the-wall for Christmas. I've booked off work as of the 19th, and will work my butt off until then to make sure the house is in good standing, we have room for everyone, everyone is appropriately fêted and fed, and there's a good supply of everything readily available. The work starts this Friday, when I head to IKEA to find storage solutions for the crap I haven't dealt with yet, and for all of our coats, hats, mittens, boots, etc. etc.

For those relatives reading this: they will likely not attend Oma's xmas so don't worry about having extra six-footers in the room. Not like we need any more of those.

We're going to hunt for a real christmas tree (sssh don't tell the neighbors) and decorate it together. I will invest in some decent xmas music, and retire the Madonna/BoneyM/Bing Crosby CD I've been making my honey nuts with since 1998. OK maybe I'll keep the Boney M. Just for him, he hates it so.

I will bake cookies, and maybe we will make candies - together. How very Martha. We will ALL enjoy the family fun-due on xmas eve, so fun-due for 9, and we will ALL head to my mom's for turkey christmas night. We will ALL unwrap our gifts xmas eve and we will place a few under my mom's tree too. I will hang out the advent calendar my nephew made me two years ago and fill it with chocolates for him (at least two weeks' worth). We will go skiing (if there's snow) and for hikes, and I plan on making my nephew walk the dog during the day, to give myself a break. We will drive up and look at our land, and see our shared lake in the flat December light. I hope they like it.

But between now and then, I have (let's see....) eight events to organize. Why does work stack them all up like this? Beats me. Sadists. I go all summer with very little to do and then BOOM. It's not even like they're all planned-for during the summer; they pop up like mushrooms throughout the fall. It's sick. By the time xmas comes, I can only hope not to be sick as a dog and completely flattened as I have been in the past couple of years. I have work to do people! Austrians to host! Food to eat! I am trying a new persona on for the next month or so - one who doesn't give a fig and rolls with the punches. I'll let you know how it works out.

Celebrating Good Times

There are very few days of the year/decade when I say "Damn, I wish I was American." Yesterday was one of them. Barack Obama is a good man, and will be a great President - measured, diplomatic, intellectual, warm, a constitutional lawyer with a terrific international background and a whip-smart wife. What a sea change.

The only positive thing I can say about the other ticket is that I'm jealous of Sarah Palin's hair and her post-five-children body.

We celebrated last night by heading to my girlfriend's place, eating pizza, playing Wii, and hanging with her kids. We watched the early returns, for as long as it took to feel comfortable that there wouldn't be any Republican shenanigans or bounce-backs, before heading home to catch McCain's concession speech.

I don't think Americans could understand how this could be exciting for a white lady from Canada, but I am beside myself. I feel like the world just let out a collective sigh of relief. I can stop scratching my head, as I've been doing for the past 8 years, trying to figure out how a quite friendly and reasonable-looking group of people could have made such a collossal mistake. I am hoping that the world's political climate will be changed, that America can heal itself, and go back to being the friendly giant to our south. I hope too that the buzz of inspiration felt by our neighbors will spill over the border and light a fire beneath the arses of some of our stale leaders or leaders-in-waiting; it's telling that we had the worst-ever turnout in our election a couple of weeks back, in the shadows of the phenomenon down south. Our own less-than-uninspiring leader was elected by just over 22% of registered voters (about 15% of the overall population if that matters) in a system that has revealed itself to be quite flawed. We do a lot of things right here in Canada, but apparently elections aren't one of them.

So there's my political statement for this blog. I don't feel comfortable 'going there' usually but I feel like celebrating.

I look forward to seeing what SNL does in the next few months as well, as they're now going to have to up the ante in terms of African-American cast members.

My Favourite Uncelebrated Holiday

Happy Hallowe'en y'all. Today is my favourite holiday of the year.


(crickets)


Once again, I've disappointed myself by inadequately observing the glorious night that is halloween. After last year's disappointing participation (I think we had about 12 kids total), we vowed that this year we'd do it up right: have a huge party, totally overhaul/decorate the house, buy all manner of creepy things throughout the year, and make it really memorable. Do it up right. Then life happened (364 days of it) and we got a dog, and our perspective changed. Currently, I can't imagine having the time to clean my house let alone completely overhaul it for a day. Also, I can't imagine getting to a place where Rosie won't insist on chewing on random stuff, eating firewood, and jumping on everyone, thereby destroying/being injured by any intricate costumes worn by potential partygoers.

NEXT YEAR. I will send Rosie to gramma's house and have a real party, I swear. According to my handy 16-month united way calendar, which marks paydays and other important holidays, Halloween is on a Saturday in 2009, so perhaps that will be my motivation to do it up right. They had these awesome black roses at the Giant Tiger that I should have bought. Perhaps they'll be half-price tomorrow (note to self: shop tomorrow). Also, I will need the full year to construct the amazing and terrifying lawn/home décor required. Once my home renos are done perhaps I'll have some time to devote to this (ha.) Do you think that childrens' trick-or-treating will get in the way of my party plans?

For now, I'm going to have to be content with the pumpkin that Rosie and I carved late last night (Rosie carved it WITH HER TEETH), my orange jacket, and the Mars bars and Twizzlers I bought for the inevitable 10 kids who will show up at my door. Shoot maybe I should buy more candy. I had thought I might be able to dress Rosie up and pass her off as a kid so I can scam more candy for myself, but that might be hard. I wanted to tie fake arms to her and pretend she's actually a three-year old, dressed up as a dog, but perhaps that treads too close to the pathetic line. Next year, I am totally renting children.

Knit knacks

Last night I managed to finally complete a sweater that I've been working on since last christmas.

It's Kate Gilbert's Union Square Market Pullover. I made it in a dark eggplant with lime green trim, with Drops Alpaca yarn. It's a gorgeous yarn, but I think I might hate my sleeves. I am not sure. I may have to improvise them a wee bit. I'm not posting any photos because I'm not 100% thrilled with the result, though reviews seem positive so far (I'm wearing it to work). Colour is good, fit is ok, but the sleeves are too long (and wide, actually) and I think I screwed up the cuffs somehow. I'm not sure. Also it could be 2 inches longer on me, for comfort. Sigh.

Nuts for Winter

Gennyland's status update: it's October 27, work is v. busy, I'm pretty excited about the U.S. election, I'm finishing the sweater I've been working on since last xmas, I've started thinking about gifts for this xmas, the house is nearly all tucked in for winter, the firewood needs to be put away, the winter tires need to be put on the car, I'm getting over my cold and Rosie's just lovely in general.

Fall is in full swing and the leaves have mostly fallen off the trees. I'm really looking forward to this weekend, when the clocks change, because for once I will be able to use the daylight in the morning more than the daylight at the end of the day. Seriously, I can't find my dog in the mornings. That extra hour of daylight will come in handy.


This weekend, we finished off the remaining "must-dos" of the house renovations. We also put away a lot of our big outside stuff, making this coming weekend's to-do list a bit shorter. It's looking nice inside, as I've moved some things around. I have some projects on the go and have a few more lined up for the pre-christmas season, which promises to be jam-packed again this year. Did I ever show you the paintings I did for my brother last year? Here they are:

I get ambitious around this time of year.

The pressing question right now is: what to do for Halloween? What level of participation will I be able to achieve this year? Will I be able to carve a pumpkin? Hand out candy? Make the house look scary? Dress up the dog? I really want to dress up the dog but I don't know if she'll stand for it. A few ideas that I have include: a bat; a skeleton; a ghost; a spider; a witch. Somehow, if I can guage it by the number of stuffed toys she's annihilated in the past months, I don't think it's worth putting a lot of effort into. Especially considering we have nowhere to go and get about 8 trick-or-treaters per year. But fun! I tried to dress up the cat last year with very little success. She glowered at me until I took off her little witch-hat-with-orange-hair. I need to have children and fast.

I also suspect Rosie might try to eat the pumpkin. She promptly chewed the handle off as soon as we brought it home. I wonder if I could dress her up as a steak?

After the Halloween buzz has worn off I'll be knitting, printing, glueing, wrapping and generally crafting myself into an ulcer again this year. I've decided, however, I will not be giving home-made food gifts in 2008, as last year's efforts proved to be either A) extremely unsuccessful, or B) still in my fridge a year later. I'll see what Martha has to say next month. I have some ambitious hand-crafted ideas though, which I won't report on in this blog until after the gifts have been unwrapped. No offense to any readers of course.

All this creative fertility (Alannis Morrisette's words, not mine) runs in the background of my day-to-day keeping it together. A good friend recently had a family tragedy, so I want to try to spend some time with her - I think we're off to the movies tomorrow night. Our family - including Rosie - has been invited to another dinner on Sunday night, which I'm really looking forward to. Also, I'm really considering getting a cleaning lady. I have found someone who's been recommended highly, and am tempted to hire her based on her name alone (Mavis Zeitz! What a great handle!), but haven't worked up the courage to call her. I've decided I have, as my girlfriend in BC once said, "more money than time" these days (which isn't saying much really, except that I have very very little time) and have had to make some decisions as to what's most important in my life - scrubbing my own toilet or making christmas gifts? It's an easy decision for me, but one that hubby's struggling with - not that he scrubs many toilets....

New things in my life: Rosie's "Sporn" halter, which makes walking her much easier; a possibly exciting career movement; new sweaters on deck to be knitted up, with lovely new yarn; dad's recovering from his shoulder surgery; a new diet for the new year, aimed at lowering my insulin resistance or something (don't ask, it's another post); my favourite TV show premieres in three days; hubby's starting a new job; one of my oldest friends has moved back to my neighborhood; my "Green Committee" work is going very well at the office (I am a co-chair), and I have no more airplane trips to make in 2008. All in all it's looking pretty good.

.... and about that waterfront lot

So about that waterfront lot I coyly mentioned earlier.

Remember a long time ago hubby and I got some good news? Well, hubby's brother got the same good news, and piled onboard to join our longstanding pipe-dream plans for a waterfront place. After a bunch of excited emails, we came to the conclusion that it's best if we each have our own individual places, that way he can rent his when he's not using it (he lives in Austria), he can leave it to his son in his will, his friends (who live here) can use it if they want, and nobody has to worry about "well I want to buy that couch but so-and-so will be peeved if I throw out the old one....." you get the point. I have a clear vision of what I want our place to look like, and I suspect they do as well. And this way, we can all stay close to each other without sitting on one another, which sort of happens when they visit our (very small) place.

Then we got to talking to my brother and my neighbor, who are in cahoots, and they convinced us to go take a look at this chunk of land for sale an hour north of us. It's on a lake called Petit Lac Cayamant (not to be confused with Lac Cayamant, which is horrid) near the village of Otter Lake. Up until 10 years ago, it was all crown land, but I guess the municipality needed a larger tax base so they hired a developer to open it up. It's about 6 km long, and has 47 lots along the eastern shore only. That's the maximum number, set by the provincial government, so we expect that the western shore will always remain as undeveloped crown land. There are islands, as well, which are also crown land. The lake is clean and there's no electrical service to the road leading in, which is gated. There's an association, of which we will soon be members, and there's a sort of caretaker guy who lives up near the gate. We went to look, had a boat ride, met some of the neighbors, and promptly put in our little deposit for two pieces of land, 3 acres each, side by side on a sort-of point. Now we have an empire.

The brother-in-law has yet to see these properties, of course, but was willing to trust us to buy it on his behalf, sight unseen.

Now we're wandering around calling ourselves wealthy landowners. The fact of it is, I'm not sure that we are wealthy landowners, as I'm not sure what monetary surprises lurk in the darkness. For sure there will be some costs involved in getting service to the lot - cutting a laneway, bringing in a composting toilet, a water system, solar panels, etc. - but I'm just not sure what it means in terms of investments and taxes. I'm wary.

Someone asked me: "why do you want a cottage when you live in the country?" It's a valid question, and certainly must seem a bit indulgent from an outside perspective. The truth of it is, even though we live a rural setting, we still only have one acre, and it's still a developed neighborhood. We have neighbors who we can hear through the trees. The dog has to be on a leash because there's moderate traffic. There's garbage pick-up and mail delivery. The house needs to be maintained, and clean, and contains all of the modern conveniences which also need maintaining. I like the furniture to seem as new as possible and the floors to stay relatively undamaged. You can't wander into the front yard and jump off a dock, and my hubby can't go fishing at 5 a.m., and be back before breakfast (let's not kid ourselves. That will never happen anyway). We can't sleep 8 in our house. The upstairs isn't a play loft for visiting kids or sleeping babies. I have a garden to maintain and a lawn that needs mowing. I suppose our house could do all of those things, but the fact is I don't want it to. I love having parties, but it sort of stresses me out to clean the entire house only to have it messed up again, and then to have everyone leave at 11 p.m. to go back to the city. I want to have weekend-long parties, let the place get filthy, track sand everywhere, play old board games and do old puzzles when it rains, and not worry about snowplowing or deck shovelling in winter. I want to bring up only the food I'm going to eat that weekend, and spend my days NOT worrying about what needs to be done around the house before Monday. I want to be able to say to friends, "hey, why don't you use the cottage this weekend?"

Another factor is that with the markets the way they are, we really couldn't think of another way to invest our money than in waterfront land, which never goes out of style.

This mythical cottage is a long way away. We're not that rich. We got out of debt, paid a bit down on our mortgage, and bought this piece of land and we will be in debt again once the transaction is done. Once that's paid off, we can start thinking about building something. In the meantime, we have big plans for the brother's place, which will be built next spring. And we are certainly enjoying the idea of being wealthy landowners.

Readjusting my sensors

Wow, it's fall. Just like that. I got busy at work, went to Winnipeg for almost a week, and now I'm back and it's full-on crazy-time fall. The leaves are glorious, the weather is chilly, and I had to scrape the car this morning.

The biggest downside of fall is that I notice that the older I get, the more sensitive I am to environmental change. When I was young I never noticed it, but now that I'm at the ripe old age of 33, I notice when the seasons change, I feel it physically. Everyone around me is sick, and it's unusual that I'm not sick as well, though I feel like I am staving something off. My bones hurt. I am exhausted. I can't wake up in the morning, because it's so dark. I have zero energy at night. All I want to eat is heavy pasta casseroles with lots of cheese and red wine and bread, so I am not exactly losing weight. My skin's all dry and itchy. I have no desire to be outside. When I'm at home, I'm usually outfitted in head-to-toe polar fleece.

In good news, the house is done for the year. We have one more day's work on it, which will be tomorrow, as it's going up to +17. It looks fan-freaking-tastic. I actually find that it looks TOO clean, my eyes have to readjust, as I'm used to the front of the house looking like a tarpaper shack. I have all new brushed-metal light fixtures, which finally illuminate the path approaching my house, so no more injured trick-or-treaters. What's left to do are the upper parts of the house - three small angled walls for which I'll have to stand on the roof, and which will require a coordinated effort so as not to prolong the roof-standing. I have to paint the frames of 4 long windows red, but that can no longer be done this year. Then I have to hire someone to put in new soft and eavestroughing, and we have to re-do the deck including railings. I had hoped that part of the deck would be done for this year, but it's realistically not going to happen, considering that we have yet to deal with the firewood, make cider, finish off the inside of the bathroom window, have two waves of company visit, and potentially start clearing our waterfront lot.

Oh did I not mention the waterfront lot?

This coming winter I think I will focus on the interior. I want to fix up the basement so it's more usable and not as scary/filthy. I want a new tile backsplash in the kitchen, which I've been dithering on for 3 years. I potentially want a new, deeper bathtub. I want usable storage in the basement to remedy the fact that we currently have had to cut a path through the junk to the workshop/laundry area.

I will post pictures soon. In the meantime, let's think about that waterfront lot.....

Things I learned before 8:30 a.m.

Rosie ran away this morning.

We were out on one of her little useless trips outside, the ones where she acts like she has to pee but really she just wants to go outside and sniff at the places where the skunk dug up the lawn. Last night she got skunked, ever so slightly, which sent us into panic mode as: A) it was her first, and B) we have a wedding/vacation to go to this weekend, and we're bringing her along, 'cause it'll also be a dog party. I washed her with dishsoap so only her muzzle smells now.

So we're walking up the road, and I see Cleo, the neighbor's very nice dog, hanging out by our laneway. I let Rosie go up and say hi. They ran around and around in circles, and played a bit, and I thought "they're not going far, and it's early, so I'll just let Rosie off the leash". This after having been dragged over a ditch and having my arm pulled out of its socket about 3 times. I unclipped her. They ran around and around and into the woods. I called Rosie and she came flying back at me, grazing me, and flew back into the woods. I let her run around a bit, then called her again, and again she came flying back at me. But then she ran in the other direction. Up near the other neighbors' place.

The other neighbors are mysterious to us. We never see them - I had never met the wife, and we've lived here 61/2 years. They're very German, and have nasty German shepherd dogs with names like "Hagar" and "Rex" and "Chonga". The dogs are not friendly and they're enormous. When I saw Rosie run off in that direction, I panicked, as last night we had a near-dark encounter with Hagar, who displayed his not-so-friendly side while off his leash.

She went bounding off into the woods in their direction. I called and called - nothing. I called until I was hoarse. Nothing. My nice neighbor the blacksmith called his dog, Cleo, and she returned, but no Rosie . We both called. I went in and woke up hubby, who came bounding out of the house in his jacket, sneakers and underwear. We both called. Hubby went crashing into the woods, and got so far that I could only hear his shouts faintly. Nothing. No movement in the woods, no barking, no whimpering.

My mind raced to all scenarios: She'd gotten down to the highway. She'd followed a bear. She'd eaten something dangerous. She'd upset someone. She'd gotten kicked or attacked by an animal. She'd gotten into a porcupine. She was lost.

All those things raced through my head. I had a chalky mouth and felt weak, and almost threw up. I called my mom because I didn't know what else to do, and she came over and called her as well. Finally we heard one bark that was unmistakeably hers. I chilled out a bit, as at least she was alive and didn't sound too far away. Then another bark. We all ran towards the sound from different directions - hubby still in the woods in his underwear. It was coming from the direction of the mysterious neighbors' house, so I screwed up my courage and went up their laneway. I heard "hullo!?" and there he was - and his wife! He said "watch out, there's a bear beside the house." I explained that I had lost my dog and heard her barks coming from the direction of their yard, and he said "she's probably got the bear." He had gloves on and had called the wildlife service. Then I hear hubby shouting "I HAVE HER". Turns out, she'd gotten caught in one of the neighbor's live traps, which he uses for trapping raccoons. My dog is very black and medium-sized, and he'd thought he'd seen a bear in the trap so called the wildlife service. Misunderstandings all around, and Rosie was humbled, but fine. We rejoiced.

So the things I learned this morning are:

1. Rosie will come when called, unless she's stuck in a trap.
2. The neighbors, who we've spent 6.5 years giving sidelong glances to, are actually quite nice and have a beautiful garden hidden beside their house.
3. The neighbors have traps set all over their yard.
4. There is a bear that lives near their house, which they see often.
5. There is a dude living in the woods beside our house. Hubby was walking a trail up there and heard "hullo?" but he didn't see ANYTHING. He looked around. He said "I was on the trail but the guy was in the woods, and I could NOT see him." So that's a bit freaky.

All in all, that was a lot of action for early morning. Now we're off to a wedding!

Updated to add: hubby clarified for me later that when he found Rosie, she was just sitting there cheerfully, in the cage, wagging her tail. He actually said "I wish I had a photo of exactly that image, because it was so damn cute." Our guess is that she's so used to being in her crate that she figured she was in a new outdoors crate, and just settled in.

Also, we were told that that night was the year's first killing frost, and that the dude in the woods was probably harvesting, ahem, some of his crops. Makes sense, and explains his terse tone. So phew, no dude living in the woods.

Renovations, part one million.

Did you forget that I am renovating my house?

Well technically, my dad is renovating my house. As we speak. He has been a superhero in terms of coming over when we're at work and plugging away at the G-D siding. We absconded with my brother's super-saw back in June and now he needs it back, so we're hustling. I say "we" but really it's "he". I work at it whenever I'm home but these days that's pretty rare.

It's coming along. We've been held up by a lazy electrician, but we're slogging away at the 'easy' wall. I say 'easy' because back when we started, we were all like "and then when we get to that wall, it'll be all fwoop fwoop fwoop super easy." But it has turned out to be a lot of fwoop fwoop, and a LOT of painting. We have used up the 10 foot, 11 foot, and now 12 foot boards, so we're working with 13-footers and having to cut them off.

We still have to:
- Finish the 'easy' wall
- have a light installed and the anchor replaced
- styrofoam the angled wall
- strapping on the angled wall
- styrofoam the long straight wall (4 feet wide)
- strap the long wall
- do the siding on both of these walls
- facia boards all around the house
- Remove the siding from the top three angled weird walls up high
- paint 4 windowframes dark red
- do the styrofoam, strapping, and subsequent siding on these three walls
- caulk the entire thing (we will hire someone for this).

The project became a two-year project, and we're now realizing that it'll be three years before we get all of this done, plus the new deck which was supposed to happen this fall. Part of it still may, depending on energy levels. We may leave the last 4 items on the list for next year, along with the sofit and eavestroughing we'll have to invest in.

(sigh).

Basically, we have completely rebuilt this shoddy house. I'd post pictures but it's frankly too depressing.

In defense of the "stay-cation"

I will agree that it is an irritating catchphrase.

This morning I read an article in 'Salon' deriding the term 'stay-cation' and the people who decide to stay close to home on their time off work.

In defense of the concept (if not the term), the stay-cation has always been my preferred use of time off. This for many reasons: it's cheaper, it's less stressful, it' beautiful, and I get to catch up on the things that I never have time for when I'm at work, at my own pace. It always drives me nuts when people at work say "how was your week off? Did you go anywhere?" I guess I'm guilty of asking the same question, but the answer I get is usually 'yes', whereas I always just say "nope!"

We do go on vacations sometimes; in the past six years we've been to the following places together on our time off:

- a road trip to Halifax for a wedding
- honeymoon in Fernie BC
- various camping trips
- road trip to a cottage in southern Ontario, 9 hours away
- two road trips to cottages in southern Ontario, 3 hours away
- a two-week trip to France, Germany and Austria
- a week in BC this past April.

We had a lot of fun on most of these trips. We travel well together, my hubby and I, and we generally have a good time when we're on the road. However when we get back I am always presented with the same problems: the work that I usually do while I'm home piles up and still has to be done, then the credit card bill has to be paid, and within a week the effects of the vacation have worn off and I'm back to my old routine. I will grant you that I'm still feeling the effects of the trip to Europe, which we took almost two years ago, but for the most part, I usually come home wondering why I left in the first place.

Not to mention that if we leave, we have to figure out what to do with the pets, which I always find stressful.

When I stay home for vacation, I wake up late, lazily make coffee, feed the animals, sit on my deck and watch the birds and bugs in the garden, then pick away at my daily tasks as I see fit. Some days I work like a sonofagun, so that at the end of the day I'm totally exhausted but feel like a million bucks, but some days I go shopping, make food, putz around the garden, spend quality time with the hammock - you get the picture. By the time I go back to work I'm satisfied that things are taken care of on the home front.

When we're on holiday it's generally go go go - there's a pressure to take in as much as possible and not waste your time (and money). The search for quality experiences puts an invisible gun to my head every time, so I feel like I have to fill every hour with some sort of genuine local-flavour-filled encounter.

Another factor in my defense of the stay-cation is that I am generally satisfied where I am. There are people out there who really get a kick out of travelling to new places and seeking thrilling experiences. I am not one of them. Don't get me wrong: some of my favourite moments were pulling off the highway somewhere in Austria to explore a deserted castle on a mountaintop, or driving through the 'desert' near Otterlo, in the Netherlands with my grandmother and her sister, or hiking the lizard's back trail in Fernie BC, or trying foie gras for the first time at a bistro in Paris. It's just that I love my home so much, love my community so much, that I take great pleasure in exploring the areas around me. I can spend hours looking at weeds. I can hike the same trails over and over and always find something new to look at. I can go into my town and catch up with old friends at the grocery store. I can walk the dog and meet new neighbors. I can share my home with friends, like we did the other night when we inadvertently served a 'local' dinner made of fresh-caught perch, home-grown potatoes and basil and tomatoes. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm really into the intensity of a local experience, to immersing myself in my community and my environment rather than striking out into foreign territory. It doesn't hurt that I live in what I consider one of the most beautiful places on earth, and I can't see my neighbors from my deck.

Also I'm afraid of planes.

Ah Rosie.

Today I am the proud owner of a brand new black eye.

We went out last night, to our friends' place for dinner. We had a really terrific time and stayed out a bit too late, so Rosie was extra happy to see me when we picked her up at my mom's place.

I bent down to clip her leash on, while at the same time she decided to hop up and give me a little kiss. We collided mid-air - she felt nothing, while I felt a searing pain in my eye socket and my lower lip. The lip's fine - just a nick - but she split the skin on my eye-bag and now I have one extra-baggy, slightly grey eye. Gorgeous. I put makeup on it but it still looks funny - slightly waxy, if that makes any sense, and grey even through the makeup.

She means well, my Rosie. I can't blame her. We do, however, have to curb her habit of jumping up on people. Usually she's fine with me - she makes no fuss when I greet her in the morning - but she hops all over hubby and all over strangers too, unless they ignore her completely. She can really put on a show. Often this hopping is accompanied by piddling, which I thought was over but she's doing it again.

This is now the main problem with Rosie. I think that's pretty good - we've managed to get rid of the biting, the attacking in the evenings, and her cat-attacks. Hubby cured the last one - mostly - by scaring the bejeezus out of her when she does it. He'll grab something flattened in the recycling (a cereal box or milk carton) and run over in a huff, and smack it on the ground near the ruckus until she stops. She is instantly contrite, and goes and sits quietly by herself. Hubby waits a couple of minutes and then goes and makes up with her. He only had to do this like three times before she got the message, and now she leaves Loki mostly alone. She still mauls him a bit by way of greeting but it's not mean-spirited, and he doesn't mind too much. All we have to do is say "no, Rosie" or "Rosie, be nice" in a warning tone and she gets it.

She would still steal food given half a chance. We've become experts at keeping all food out of reach, but she still will hop up and lick plates on the counter, or eat the cat food off the table when we're not looking. That's an ongoing problem, but one that is linked to her species and breed, which is a tough signal to break. She is very food-motivated, and we keep most food away from her, given her history of colitis. She really loves bread but I am trying to keep her from eating wheat, which I suspect aggrevates her situation.

She does a bunch of other stuff that I don't find problematic but others might: she still pulls on the leash, but more often than not the leash is TOO slack - it gets caught around her front legs. She also just seems to enjoy walking at the limit of her leash, which doesn't really count - she'll walk easily at the limit of a 4' leash, a 6' leash, or a 16' leash. She drinks out of the toilet - so we make sure to flush well and clean it often. Once in a while, she'll pee on the floor if we miss her pleas to go outside. No problem, that's what cleaning products are for.

She's still jealous of the cats, but it subsides quickly when given equal loving. She's starting to leave us alone while we eat dinner, though she still begs a bit and comes nosing around, and has taken to lying on the floor and moaning until we're done just for attention. It's quite comical. She usually comes when called, except when she's on a mission. She's starting to get it when we yank her off of dead frogs etc. in the road, or cat poo, or something else that she (disgustingly) wants to put in her mouth. She's excellent in the car - but that's due to the gate. She doesn't whine and either sits and looks out the window (which is all smeary now - I should clean it) or she sleeps. She is satisfied to be tied on her rope while we do our construction stuff outside, as long as she knows we haven't left (we never leave her unattended). She still lays on the couch - even when completely muddy or wet - but I have to just be vigilant to keep a blanket or a sheet on it, and I wash the cushions regularly. She's pretty well-behaved on the couch so I have no problem with it; she mostly just sleeps, or chews on a bone or something, or cuddles and lets us give her tummy rubs.

Her vocabulary's coming along as well: she now knows sit, down, come, Loki, Dad, pee, water, hungry?, apple, bone, ball, tummy (sort of), gramma, stay, no, off, and maybe car.

So for an 8-month (TODAY!)-old dog, I think she's doing pretty well. And so are we! Black eye and all.

Harvest time, a time for reflection (cue the music).

Well it's the end of August, and I hate to say it, but it's harvest time again. Not that I hate harvest time, but it means that the nights are getting colder and every morning when I wake up, I can see my breath, and half expect to see frost on the deck. This weekend I went to Rona and purchased a 50' roll of heavy-duty clear plastic, because it looks like all my little green tomatoes need a bit of protection if they're going to get red without first getting frostbite. I'm tired of dragging old sheets all over my yard.

It's been a weird year. It rained pretty much every day through June, July, and early August, so we had a billion slugs and juuuust not enough sun for some of the fruits and veggies. However, I suspect the rain played a part in one of my greatest successes of the year, the plums. Remember how I always lament the troubles I have with the plums? Well they're far from perfect, but I have a lot of them, and the ones that are ready to eat are delicious. Behold:

There were two factors this year that may have contributed to their success: I pruned off all the useless, plum-less branches early on, and we had a lot of rain. I'm going to try to water the tree extra next year (if it's not rainy like 08) and see what happens.

However, the rain, paired with a not-perfect planting site, prevented me from growing any pumpkins. This was going to be a monumental year for pumpkins but I think the site I chose got too shady once the surrounding sumacs got to full-size, and the soil may not have been rich enough. It's tough to find a sunny site in my yard where pumpkins can grow to their full glory. I have a few ideas for next year but it means a lot of work. I didn't get so much as a baby pumpkin this year - nor did I see hide nor hair of squash. The melons never made it past seedling stage. I have to learn that surrounding plants grow bigger faster and choke things out easily - I don't know why it's taken me this long to figure that out, I guess I'm a slow learner.

It's not all doom and gloom, though, by far. Behold the beautiful things I harvested this weekend (plus the onions that I harvested over the course of about 2 weeks):
I am in love with those purple potatoes. Digging them up I felt like an archeologist, digging up jewelled egyptian beetles or something. They're iridescent. They far outgrew the 'Russet Burbank' yellow potatoes I grew (see the photo - they're the weenie ones) so they are the stars of the show. However, I served up all the tiny potatoes for dinner that day, and the russets did taste a bit better and cook up more elegantly - the purple ones are floury and go a bit soft for my liking. They also do not make great french fries.

I got two tomatoes but when I turned my back, Rosie ate one. Well, she sort of only mangled it while using it as a ball, but it was inedible so I let her have it. I got another three later on though, along with the remaining leathery beans. The garlic you see in the photo is the world's most potent garlic. I made a greek-inspired dinner on Saturday when a friend came over (and we lost power for 8 hours - I did it all on the BBQ), and I made chicken souvlaki-like skewers with garlic, yoghurt tzaziki-like sauce with garlic, greek-like salad with garlic in the sauce, and I used one clove in total. And had wicked garlic breath the next morning. So tread cautiously with my garlic. I take heart that I will finally rid myself of that pesky vampire problem that's been plagueing my household.

This poor guy grew through the fence. I am such a softie that I cut the fence to free him. My dad said "why the heck didn't you just cut the cucumber?" but I am not like that. The fence is not living. Now he's got an awesome studded collar and is the envy of all the other cukes.
Quietly, in the background of all of this, the grapes have been staging a silent coup on my deck. They almost ran off with the BBQ but I caught them red-handed.
I am wise to their tricks:

Maybe I'll have a Lucille Ball moment and make my own wine? Why not? I already make cider, how different could it be? The vines are heavy with grapes this year. Speaking of cider, here's the apple tree:

turn your head to look at it.

Hubby insists we have a much lower yield this year but I think he's being alarmist. I think we'll have plenty. Besides, we talked about getting some wild apples off the neighbors to increase the variety of apples used (ergo, increasing the complexity of our cider) so it won't matter in the end. We'll still be able to fill two carboys. He forgets that after making cider last year, I still had two pailfuls of apples in the downstairs fridge for ages and ages - long enough that they became like little shrunken heads. I should have carved them all up into faces and left them in the fridge for effect. I ended up throwing them into the snow for the deer, but the squirrels got them first.

I guess that's that. I have basil too, and thai basil, though not a bumper crop as I've had in previous years. I had a truckload of cilantro, and there were some strawberries early on. I have tiny beets that I still don't know how to prepare, and I have a few clumps of swiss chard as well. There are more cucumbers to come - the vines are escaping the garden, into the lawn - and the tomatoes are ripening. The marigolds and nasturtiums did really really well and got enormous. My peppers were dismal this year - the little ones I got got eaten by something, even though I did use diatomaceous earth. I think it was the rain and the lack of sun. The leeks are still in the garden but I don't know what to do with them. I may cut them off and thin them out and leave them for next year, to see what happens. They came back bigger this year, maybe they'll be the right size next. I still have ground cherries ripening - those are my little gardening snack for while I'm weeding, pulling out spent plants, etc. I also managed to get rhubarb well into summer, and hope that picking it will increase next year's yield.

Now that things are being removed from the garden, I have to space out the strawberries a bit better, weed the whole thing, and try to control where the cilantro drops its seeds.

So here's the list of things I'm going to do next year, and things I will leave behind:

- Plant squash and melons in a sunny, dedicated, well-fertilized spot.

- start tomatoes sooner, and harden them off better.

- Plant peppers in pots, not in the garden. Be vigilant.

- Get the leeks out of there.

- Plant more beans, so I can harvest more than 6 at a time.

- Plant more spinach (I may do that this weekend actually).

- Plant some things that ripen early and make decent side dishes.

- Plant russet gold potatoes earlier and leave them in the ground longer. Plant purples later and take them out at the same time.

- Plant more onions and garlic. Put them among everything. Leave them in the ground longer.

- Plant more basil.

- Maybe try romaine lettuce again?

- Don't attempt corn.

- Try asparagus again.

In conclusion, it looks like the veggie garden itself next year will be tomatoes, basil, onions, garlic, cukes, spinach, romaine lettuce, strawberries and beans. That's pretty traditional but fine with me. In pots I'll have peppers, and potatoes will be in the potato bin, and the squash and melons will be elsewhere, likely with the asparagus (if that works). I will also invest in a pear tree, to put up near my (recovering) cherry tree, and take good care of the existing plums and apples. I may also try blueberries, but I already have a decent blueberry source so what the heck. Why add to my workload?

Besides, next summer has the potential to be really busy, but that's another story.

A Reprieve

This past New Year’s Eve, my hubby and I received a little bit of bittersweet news. Hubby’s Aunt had passed away in the U.K. (in November – we knew this), and the official legal letter we got in the mail was announcing to us that Hubby is a beneficiary – one of nine – of her estate.

These things are kind of awkward to me. They’re sad occasions that come with good news, so the accompanying emotions are really mixed up. I have never specifically received an inheritance, to speak of. My grandmother passed away in 2003 and left me $100, which was very touching. It was nice to have been thought of, as I am one of 10 grandkids. My parents got a lot more, and used it to buy a behemoth boat, dubbed the “Thanks Mom”, which we have all enjoyed for 5 years. When my great uncle died, he left it all to my dad (+mom) and his siblings (+ spouses), so that generation got to divvy it up as they saw fit. It was once again a pretty generous amount (he was a single dude with investments), so my parents shared with us, giving each kid $2,000 at Christmastime. That was a terrific gift that made me cry like a baby, and I promptly invested the whole amount. It lost a bunch of money (thanks Scotiabank!) but is now bouncing back.

So when this letter came, our imaginations did two things: raced forward to the highest dollar amount possible, and then put the brakes on. We had no idea. We didn’t want to count our chickens. We wanted to take the time to process it, and to honour his aunt accordingly, as it was quite unexpected and very touching. My husband has a small and distant family – the surviving members are a hoot and I love them very much, but they live in Austria, Germany, England, Calgary – but he has not much in the way of safety net and is, technically and financially, an orphan. An orphan who was left on his own, in much debt, right out of university, with zero assets.

This gift-from-above represents, to me, his family finally looking after him in a financial way that a lot of the rest of us can usually count on throughout our lives, doled out as money for books, help with tuition, first month’s rent, borrowing the car, etc. This is his net. As he is still, unfortunately, swimming in student loans, this net could help him get out of the water.

Then the other day, we finally received the letter detailing dollar amounts. It was more than we’d imagined, even at our highest estimates. This influx is finally enough to get us out of debt (though we will keep our mortgage), meaning that there are no more student loans, no more car payments, no more renovation payments, and that we are now the proud owners of a 14’ fishing boat with trailer and all the trimmings. My husband is a happy camper. I am a happy camper. We are in celebration mode.

And on top of all of that debt-canceling, the best part is, we can finally start looking for a piece of cottage property to start working on our dream: a home-made cottage, to be used by our family, friends, and perhaps renters, on a lake where hubby can fish and I can dive off the dock, knowing that week after week the dock is mine to dive off of. This dream is still years in the distance, but I can now taste it. And do you know what? It tastes like mojitos, barbecued chicken and ribs, fresh-caught fried fish, crisp salads, and cedar.

Thank you Eileen.