Things that I find really oppressive right now are the following:
Fruit flies I am at war with fruit flies. I surmise that they are coming in through the screens in the kitchen windows, because right outside the kitchen is our apple orchard (two trees). There is a lot of fallen and rotting fruit, and I believe this is where the flies originate. The compost pail has now moved outside to the deck, which is for the best because it’s a breeding ground for fruit flies, though hubby insists on bringing it inside from time to time and enraging me. There are flies in and around the sink, and flies around our heads while we eat dinner. I bought a trap from Lee Valley Tools but I don’t know how many have fallen for it. They are wiley, those fruit flies.
Threatening wildlife, fattening up for winter Apparently this is the time of year when I have to really worry about fishers, coyotes, etc etc. Cats are starting to go missing, and we all know how I feel about that. My little fatty Sasha sticks close to home most of the time, but she’s started staying out later and later at night, and it makes me nervous. We’ve started enlisting Rosie to go out (on a leash) and find her in the dark.
My slow garden I have tomatoes, they’re just not red yet. I have picked a bunch, and want to bring them inside to ripen, but am terrified of encouraging the abovementioned fruit flies. Any ideas are welcome. I am still waiting on some potatoes (I planted them really late) and am still getting zucchini, but everything else is a wash. I got garlic (whoop, that’s the easiest thing) and onions, and potatoes (which were all floury and terrible), and four carrots which were purple, so I suspect my sister-in-law threw them out when she found them in the fridge. They were meant to be purple but she didn’t know that. I got one plum. At least we will have a wonderful apple harvest. Everything is a giant mess, as it always is at this time of year.
The onset of fall We’re unprepared for fall this year. We don’t have our firewood, let alone have it split and stacked and put away. We haven’t had our chimney cleaned. I haven’t cleaned out the garden. The grass is half-mowed, because our mower died. The car needs repairs, and we need to sell the Saturn station wagon that lives in our driveway which will get us peanuts I’m sure. We sold the blue truck (sniff) and will keep it to the Vibe for the winter, I think. We may need new winter tires (cha-ching). We haven’t done anything regarding our siding this year, though Stuart, our handyman guy, said he’d do it in the fall sometime. However, I haven’t painted any boards for it, and don’t even know how many we’ve got. The trailer is woefully unprepared for the winter onslaught, as we don’t think it can handle 4 feet of snow on top of it, and it’s definitely not mouse-or-water-tight, I’ve learned. I feel like I just pulled the garlic out of the garden and I need to think about weeding it and planting next year’s. I need to buy an extra month somehow. I am anxious just writing this out, and could really use a glass of wine.
Junk I am tired of dealing with all the junk in our house. I keep trying to encourage a clean up day (!! to make it sound fun) but we never seem to get rid of a satisfactory amount of stuff. All the empty spaces fill right back up again. This is why we need a cottage. I keep things around (old kitchen sink, old bottles, etc) because I have plans to put them in a cottage someday, but in the meantime you can’t hardly walk through our basement. This weekend I have to do the ol’ twice-annual clothing switch (summer to winter, boo hoo) and I really want to get hubby to do a major sort in his closet. We need to make space, because it’s getting a bit oppressive, and winter only makes that feeling worse.
However, all of this being said, I am a person with a can-do attitude (ha!) and this list of things that I hate now turns into a list of things to deal with:
- put up sticky traps for fruit flies.
- pick tomatoes, remaining potatoes and onions. Ripen them in a fruit-fly-free locale.
- Buy organic garlic and plant it for next year.
- Rip all the weeds and old plants out of the veggie garden.
- Pick apples.
- Order firewood.
- Split and stack firewood.
- Have chimney cleaned.
- Repair car.
- Sell Saturn.
- Call Stuart.
- Check winter tires.
- Winterize the trailer.
- Clean closets.
- Switch clothes summer/winter.
- Put junk away or throw it out.
I should just keep this list as a template, an annual to-do list, because these tasks are the same from year to year. Fall sucks.
9/22/09
9/18/09
Things I Love
These are the things that I presently am really into:
Reading Reading is a funny thing to me. Either I do it 100% or not at all. I can go months and months without reading anything and then all of a sudden the dam bursts and I read three books in a week and will read while doing everything; going to the bathroom, cooking dinner, watching t.v. even.
Free decorating magazines My fertility clinic has a lot of decorating magazines. My hubby and I worked out that this is very savvy on their part: not only does the demographic match (usually thirty-somethings, many females, and most of the people I see in that clinic are fairly upwardly-mobile), but it’s a comforting subject to boot. Fashion magazines might make people feel even worse about themselves than they already do – infertility is a real punch to the gut for body image – and decorating magazines appeal to the nesting instinct that is zinging around that waiting room. Anyway, I pay the damn clinic so much money that I feel justified stealing their magazines, and have come away with two good ones in the past week. I also feel justified because I have a major project (a cottage) coming up so this is like R+D.
Kitchenalia There is this terrific store in Ottawa called Kitchenalia, which stocks really nice high-end and esoteric kitchenwares, but also a lot of antiques. The Austrians bought their kitchen table there. The little old man who runs it is super-nice and knowledgeable and he stocks a really wacky and eclectic mix of antiques. I just love it. I am going there now. There’s an orange table I’ve got my eye on. Edited to note that the table is $325 so it seems I won’t be buying it.
Rosie Rosie came in second in the photo contest. We didn’t get enough votes to win the spa package, which is fine, because it was enough to get her picture in the paper. We got 104 votes in the end. Rosie was very pleased. She has become such a lovely dog, you have no idea. We just finished 8 weeks of obedience and agility training with her and while she wouldn’t win any contests in either (come on people, it’s only 8 weeks), she can do all of the tricks, and doesn’t even hesitate on the teeter-totter, the bridge, the high jumps or the tunnel, which is her favorite. She is so smart. Lately her entire diet is apple-based, so her breath is always sweet and kiss-ready. I just wish I could bring her everywhere with me. If I ran Kitchenalia, as is my dream, she would totally come to work with me. Bull in a china shop anyone?
Bears We have bears in our neighborhood. It used to be an orchard, years and years ago, so there are apple trees everywhere. We find bear turds all over the roads, and bear prints in the mud, but they are so funny because they’re really well-fed in our area, and are therefore relatively non-threatening. All of the turds are like big piles of apple-pie filling. Rosie eats those too. We haven’t actually seen one in our parts yet but we go out looking every night, and one was huffing at my husband in the front yard (from a distance) around midnight a couple of weeks ago. That is a bit scary, but it adds an element of suspense to our days that keeps things lively. My new job as the car passenger is ‘bear-spotter’. So far I have seen only one.
Cottages I am all about cottages these days. I doodle floor plans, I research dock designs and materials, and I mostly just dream. It keeps me going, and will keep me going through the winter.
Reading Reading is a funny thing to me. Either I do it 100% or not at all. I can go months and months without reading anything and then all of a sudden the dam bursts and I read three books in a week and will read while doing everything; going to the bathroom, cooking dinner, watching t.v. even.
Free decorating magazines My fertility clinic has a lot of decorating magazines. My hubby and I worked out that this is very savvy on their part: not only does the demographic match (usually thirty-somethings, many females, and most of the people I see in that clinic are fairly upwardly-mobile), but it’s a comforting subject to boot. Fashion magazines might make people feel even worse about themselves than they already do – infertility is a real punch to the gut for body image – and decorating magazines appeal to the nesting instinct that is zinging around that waiting room. Anyway, I pay the damn clinic so much money that I feel justified stealing their magazines, and have come away with two good ones in the past week. I also feel justified because I have a major project (a cottage) coming up so this is like R+D.
Kitchenalia There is this terrific store in Ottawa called Kitchenalia, which stocks really nice high-end and esoteric kitchenwares, but also a lot of antiques. The Austrians bought their kitchen table there. The little old man who runs it is super-nice and knowledgeable and he stocks a really wacky and eclectic mix of antiques. I just love it. I am going there now. There’s an orange table I’ve got my eye on. Edited to note that the table is $325 so it seems I won’t be buying it.
Rosie Rosie came in second in the photo contest. We didn’t get enough votes to win the spa package, which is fine, because it was enough to get her picture in the paper. We got 104 votes in the end. Rosie was very pleased. She has become such a lovely dog, you have no idea. We just finished 8 weeks of obedience and agility training with her and while she wouldn’t win any contests in either (come on people, it’s only 8 weeks), she can do all of the tricks, and doesn’t even hesitate on the teeter-totter, the bridge, the high jumps or the tunnel, which is her favorite. She is so smart. Lately her entire diet is apple-based, so her breath is always sweet and kiss-ready. I just wish I could bring her everywhere with me. If I ran Kitchenalia, as is my dream, she would totally come to work with me. Bull in a china shop anyone?
Bears We have bears in our neighborhood. It used to be an orchard, years and years ago, so there are apple trees everywhere. We find bear turds all over the roads, and bear prints in the mud, but they are so funny because they’re really well-fed in our area, and are therefore relatively non-threatening. All of the turds are like big piles of apple-pie filling. Rosie eats those too. We haven’t actually seen one in our parts yet but we go out looking every night, and one was huffing at my husband in the front yard (from a distance) around midnight a couple of weeks ago. That is a bit scary, but it adds an element of suspense to our days that keeps things lively. My new job as the car passenger is ‘bear-spotter’. So far I have seen only one.
Cottages I am all about cottages these days. I doodle floor plans, I research dock designs and materials, and I mostly just dream. It keeps me going, and will keep me going through the winter.
9/16/09
Family Time
Gosh I don’t even remember the last time I wrote you. So much has happened in the meantime – all of August has passed us by, and nearly half of September – that I don’t think I can recount it in these pages.
Sorry. I’ve been reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and it’s affecting my writing style. I’m going all Jane Austen on your asses. I haven’t read the original, but this one’s much more exciting. I enjoy a Victorian comedy of manners so much more when it’s laden with gut-wrenching zombie-killing violence. It’s the love child of Jane Austen and Quentin Tarantino.
In early August, back in what I like to call ‘the rainy season’, I hosted a BBQ party for my mother’s side of the family. It was a hoot, from what I remember. There was dancing. There was drinking. People fished and golfed and swam and one of our number even went zip-lining in the quarry. We had big plans to go on the aerial adventure at the Cavernes Lafleche aerial park but those sizeist bastards wouldn’t take anyone with hips larger than 42 inches. For those of you who are familiar with my family, there are very few among them with hips smaller than 42 inches. Thankfully this is balanced out – many of them (females, mostly) are six-footers. I am a shorty at 5’7 ½ (barefoot). What can those cave-people expect?
After that, we began preparations for the arrival of the Austrians. During this time, we didn’t really visit the land much, so when we finally went up with the Austrians we were pleasantly surprised to find a lovely first-floor and three walls standing where there once was only bush. I must admit to feeling a sense of accomplishment. While the majority of the actual work has been done by my brother, by builders and various other service-people (septic installation, laneway backhoe, etc), I feel like as a unit we’ve moved the project in its entirety along at a great pace in just a few months. It also just so happened that the arrival of the Austrians was timed perfectly so that they could watch their cottage being built.
Their visit was a bunch of fun. We went to the land. We swam, we boated, we kayaked (we bought kayaks!), we slept in the trailer, we drank beer from the bottom of the lake (warm beer!), we fished, I watched Rosie redundantly chase a loon, before she decided she was outmatched and gave up. I kayaked WITH Rosie, which was adorable even though nobody else even saw it. We went bowling. We went shopping, and I forced them to buy stuff for their cottage so progress could be made on things like bathroom and kitchen fixtures, when the time comes. My brother came over a lot, which was nice, and many decisions were made about construction details. I got a really great sense of what goes into building a cottage, so that I now feel better prepared to tackle our own when the time comes.
They stayed for two weeks. It was great fun and we all got along and Rosie behaved herself, but I was exhausted at the end of it, and I’m still (four days later) setting the house to rights. I really look forward to the day when we will have side-by-side cottages, so we can play together, we can eat together if we want, we can visit for coffee, campfires, games, and then have quiet alone time when we want as well. My idea since the beginning that we should remain in seperate cottages was reinforced during this visit, so I feel better about the decision, even though it may seem frivolous from the outside. While we have many of the same tastes and interests, several factors would make it difficult to share: they have a lot more disposable income than us, so their standard for household things is higher. The budget for building their cottage is higher than ours will ever be. We will beg, borrow and steal whatever materials we can use, where they are thinking about buying fixtures in Italy and filling a shipping container to get them here. They were actually contemplating commissioning someone to build them a wooden bathtub, where I want a used tin farm tank as a shower stall. They are discussing having the visible steel i-beams in their living room be pierced with plasma-cut ovals where we would be happy with rough pine. They bought an antique dining table for $800, where I hope to use the table my Opa built. They don’t love kitsch as much as we do. They don’t like colour as much as we do. They don’t like spicy food as much as we do. We let our dog onto the furniture and they don’t. They don’t wear as many clothes as we do. I would hate to have my sister-in-law’s quality bed linens muddied by my dog’s filthy paws, or have anything petty like that become an issue between us. I think we have such a lovely relationship, the five of us, that this set-up will be absolutely perfect. If you feel like curry tonight, feel free to come over. Otherwise we will meet afterwards at the campfire, or for games and dessert. Quality, enjoyable, family time.
My mom thought that this project would slake my desire to build right away, but it’s done the opposite – I can’t wait to start. I think we’ll get a move on next spring, start by plotting it out, and putting in a septic. I am jealous.
Sorry. I’ve been reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and it’s affecting my writing style. I’m going all Jane Austen on your asses. I haven’t read the original, but this one’s much more exciting. I enjoy a Victorian comedy of manners so much more when it’s laden with gut-wrenching zombie-killing violence. It’s the love child of Jane Austen and Quentin Tarantino.
In early August, back in what I like to call ‘the rainy season’, I hosted a BBQ party for my mother’s side of the family. It was a hoot, from what I remember. There was dancing. There was drinking. People fished and golfed and swam and one of our number even went zip-lining in the quarry. We had big plans to go on the aerial adventure at the Cavernes Lafleche aerial park but those sizeist bastards wouldn’t take anyone with hips larger than 42 inches. For those of you who are familiar with my family, there are very few among them with hips smaller than 42 inches. Thankfully this is balanced out – many of them (females, mostly) are six-footers. I am a shorty at 5’7 ½ (barefoot). What can those cave-people expect?
After that, we began preparations for the arrival of the Austrians. During this time, we didn’t really visit the land much, so when we finally went up with the Austrians we were pleasantly surprised to find a lovely first-floor and three walls standing where there once was only bush. I must admit to feeling a sense of accomplishment. While the majority of the actual work has been done by my brother, by builders and various other service-people (septic installation, laneway backhoe, etc), I feel like as a unit we’ve moved the project in its entirety along at a great pace in just a few months. It also just so happened that the arrival of the Austrians was timed perfectly so that they could watch their cottage being built.
Their visit was a bunch of fun. We went to the land. We swam, we boated, we kayaked (we bought kayaks!), we slept in the trailer, we drank beer from the bottom of the lake (warm beer!), we fished, I watched Rosie redundantly chase a loon, before she decided she was outmatched and gave up. I kayaked WITH Rosie, which was adorable even though nobody else even saw it. We went bowling. We went shopping, and I forced them to buy stuff for their cottage so progress could be made on things like bathroom and kitchen fixtures, when the time comes. My brother came over a lot, which was nice, and many decisions were made about construction details. I got a really great sense of what goes into building a cottage, so that I now feel better prepared to tackle our own when the time comes.
They stayed for two weeks. It was great fun and we all got along and Rosie behaved herself, but I was exhausted at the end of it, and I’m still (four days later) setting the house to rights. I really look forward to the day when we will have side-by-side cottages, so we can play together, we can eat together if we want, we can visit for coffee, campfires, games, and then have quiet alone time when we want as well. My idea since the beginning that we should remain in seperate cottages was reinforced during this visit, so I feel better about the decision, even though it may seem frivolous from the outside. While we have many of the same tastes and interests, several factors would make it difficult to share: they have a lot more disposable income than us, so their standard for household things is higher. The budget for building their cottage is higher than ours will ever be. We will beg, borrow and steal whatever materials we can use, where they are thinking about buying fixtures in Italy and filling a shipping container to get them here. They were actually contemplating commissioning someone to build them a wooden bathtub, where I want a used tin farm tank as a shower stall. They are discussing having the visible steel i-beams in their living room be pierced with plasma-cut ovals where we would be happy with rough pine. They bought an antique dining table for $800, where I hope to use the table my Opa built. They don’t love kitsch as much as we do. They don’t like colour as much as we do. They don’t like spicy food as much as we do. We let our dog onto the furniture and they don’t. They don’t wear as many clothes as we do. I would hate to have my sister-in-law’s quality bed linens muddied by my dog’s filthy paws, or have anything petty like that become an issue between us. I think we have such a lovely relationship, the five of us, that this set-up will be absolutely perfect. If you feel like curry tonight, feel free to come over. Otherwise we will meet afterwards at the campfire, or for games and dessert. Quality, enjoyable, family time.
My mom thought that this project would slake my desire to build right away, but it’s done the opposite – I can’t wait to start. I think we’ll get a move on next spring, start by plotting it out, and putting in a septic. I am jealous.
8/20/09
If I Had 200 Million Dollars
If I won the Italian mega-lottery, these are top ten things I would do:
1. Quit my job. No offense, colleagues, but when I'm sitting on an egg that big, I see no need to heed the alarm clock every morning. If I have to have a job, I adore the one I’ve got, but I’m not super ambitious so if I don’t have to have one I’ll be off like a whore’s pajamas. I’m not a person who would lie on a fainting couch and eat bonbons all day, fanning myself while my man-servants fetch me mint juleps and piña coladas; I would be busy each and every day, building things, making things, traveling, socializing. OK maybe not that last one. I won’t be a lazy rich person, just one with few external demands on my time.
2. Have a larger house built. My house is terrific. I love it to death – we bought it when I was 26, we were both broke, and it was like a palace to us. However, when we have houseguests everything in the house has to kind of jenga around a bit, as we have limited space. If we ever have kids, we will have to forego houseguests, or relegate them to the basement. If we have more than one kid, they will be sharing a bedroom. Admittedly it’s a really large bedroom but still, I am hoping for either two girls or two boys. Said larger house will be timber-frame or log, on a huge piece of land, too, on a private road, with a gate, because humans irritate the crap out of me. We would have a separate garage and an enormous vegetable garden to which I would dedicate all my time between May and October. We would also have an orchard where I would grow perfect apple trees, grapes (for wine, duh) plums, pears and lots of cherries. We would build a big giant log fence – really tasteful and attractive – and hide all of our junk behind it because every house has a junk pile.
3. Invest in help. I would like to have a live-in housekeeper, who would be dedicated to pet-hair-removal, floor washing, kitchen cleaning, and ironing (this could be a full-time job), and a handyman on call. I would have the new house professionally landscaped, or hardscaped so I can do the gardens myself.
4. Build a tasteful cottage with tons of glass, pale wood, solar panels, and a bad-ass dock. On 31-Mile Lake.
5. Buy a pied-à-terre in Austria. My in-laws (well brother-in-law + family) live in Graz, and it’s the most gorgeous town. We would go there for a month or two every winter and just ski the alps, eat strudel and shop. I would pay to have my fear of flying miraculously cleared up, or just pay for drugs to knock me out. Rosie would fly on her own when pet airways decides to develop service to Europe.
6. Get a few more dogs. Part of my huge property would be fenced, so the dogs could play all day long, and we would have a giant bed so they could all sleep with us. Rosie would be queen, and would get to pick out all the other dogs. With 200 million do you think I could afford to have Rosie cloned? In which case, we’d have Rosies running around for all eternity.
7. Give cash to my family. Sorry this is number 7 – I meant for it to be higher up there but all the shopping got more tempting. I’d give you all a wad, pay off your mortgages and other debts, get you fancy cars, buy you some fancy cheeses etc. Maybe we would all go on vacation to our pied-à-terre in Austria some winter. Also you could all buy really fancy shoes. My immediate family would live on our huge acreage, so we would have a compound that’s guarded against the world. My dad would have a workshop for all his crazy projects on one end of the compound, and my brother would have a state-of-the-art garage for his projects on the extreme other end of the compound, and they would each have their own set of tools so nobody would have to borrow anything from anybody. My mother would have a posh sewing room with a terrific view but she wouldn’t ever have to sew anything she didn’t want to. She could lay on a fainting couch and eat bonbons all day if she so desired. My brothers-and-sisters-in-law-and-nephew would have a fund set up so they would never have to pay to visit us again.
8. Open up a shop. For something to do, I would open up my own shop. Maybe. I’d sell homewares that are both new (chosen very carefully through my travels) and stuff culled from garage sales and fixed up, etc. Rosie would come to work with me every day and be the shop mascot. I’d hire super reliable help to work whenever I don’t feel like it. Secretly they’d be irritated by me and my erratic hours and my jumpy dog but they wouldn’t be able to show it because I’d be the rich boss-lady – not a tyrant, just powerful – and because they’d be the only retail employees in town with a health plan. I wouldn’t worry too much about the profits, because I have 200 million dollars.
9. Pay to have kids. ‘Nuff said. Wait I’m already doing this.
10. Give to charity. I would give a lot of money to the Humane Society, local no-kill animal shelters, and cancer research. I would set up a fund to help people pay for veterinary treatments for their pets and for a free spay and neuter program in my area. I would set up a turtle rescue operation that works to save slow-moving turtles from being hit by cars during mating season.
So basically I want to become a kooky Martha Stewart. With this list, I am also hoping that there will be enough money left over (100 mil or so) that I can hire a trusted advisor (I already know someone so I'm ready) and set up some investments that will allow me to live off the interest for the rest of my life. I don’t want to eat caviar for breakfast, but neither do I want to worry about money ever again. I don’t think this is too much to ask.
Oh and a footnote: we've entered Rosie in a photo contest and we're rallying the vote, so if you feel like moseying on over to their site and voting, we're #8. Go Rosie! http://lowdownonline.com/photo-contest-aug/
1. Quit my job. No offense, colleagues, but when I'm sitting on an egg that big, I see no need to heed the alarm clock every morning. If I have to have a job, I adore the one I’ve got, but I’m not super ambitious so if I don’t have to have one I’ll be off like a whore’s pajamas. I’m not a person who would lie on a fainting couch and eat bonbons all day, fanning myself while my man-servants fetch me mint juleps and piña coladas; I would be busy each and every day, building things, making things, traveling, socializing. OK maybe not that last one. I won’t be a lazy rich person, just one with few external demands on my time.
2. Have a larger house built. My house is terrific. I love it to death – we bought it when I was 26, we were both broke, and it was like a palace to us. However, when we have houseguests everything in the house has to kind of jenga around a bit, as we have limited space. If we ever have kids, we will have to forego houseguests, or relegate them to the basement. If we have more than one kid, they will be sharing a bedroom. Admittedly it’s a really large bedroom but still, I am hoping for either two girls or two boys. Said larger house will be timber-frame or log, on a huge piece of land, too, on a private road, with a gate, because humans irritate the crap out of me. We would have a separate garage and an enormous vegetable garden to which I would dedicate all my time between May and October. We would also have an orchard where I would grow perfect apple trees, grapes (for wine, duh) plums, pears and lots of cherries. We would build a big giant log fence – really tasteful and attractive – and hide all of our junk behind it because every house has a junk pile.
3. Invest in help. I would like to have a live-in housekeeper, who would be dedicated to pet-hair-removal, floor washing, kitchen cleaning, and ironing (this could be a full-time job), and a handyman on call. I would have the new house professionally landscaped, or hardscaped so I can do the gardens myself.
4. Build a tasteful cottage with tons of glass, pale wood, solar panels, and a bad-ass dock. On 31-Mile Lake.
5. Buy a pied-à-terre in Austria. My in-laws (well brother-in-law + family) live in Graz, and it’s the most gorgeous town. We would go there for a month or two every winter and just ski the alps, eat strudel and shop. I would pay to have my fear of flying miraculously cleared up, or just pay for drugs to knock me out. Rosie would fly on her own when pet airways decides to develop service to Europe.
6. Get a few more dogs. Part of my huge property would be fenced, so the dogs could play all day long, and we would have a giant bed so they could all sleep with us. Rosie would be queen, and would get to pick out all the other dogs. With 200 million do you think I could afford to have Rosie cloned? In which case, we’d have Rosies running around for all eternity.
7. Give cash to my family. Sorry this is number 7 – I meant for it to be higher up there but all the shopping got more tempting. I’d give you all a wad, pay off your mortgages and other debts, get you fancy cars, buy you some fancy cheeses etc. Maybe we would all go on vacation to our pied-à-terre in Austria some winter. Also you could all buy really fancy shoes. My immediate family would live on our huge acreage, so we would have a compound that’s guarded against the world. My dad would have a workshop for all his crazy projects on one end of the compound, and my brother would have a state-of-the-art garage for his projects on the extreme other end of the compound, and they would each have their own set of tools so nobody would have to borrow anything from anybody. My mother would have a posh sewing room with a terrific view but she wouldn’t ever have to sew anything she didn’t want to. She could lay on a fainting couch and eat bonbons all day if she so desired. My brothers-and-sisters-in-law-and-nephew would have a fund set up so they would never have to pay to visit us again.
8. Open up a shop. For something to do, I would open up my own shop. Maybe. I’d sell homewares that are both new (chosen very carefully through my travels) and stuff culled from garage sales and fixed up, etc. Rosie would come to work with me every day and be the shop mascot. I’d hire super reliable help to work whenever I don’t feel like it. Secretly they’d be irritated by me and my erratic hours and my jumpy dog but they wouldn’t be able to show it because I’d be the rich boss-lady – not a tyrant, just powerful – and because they’d be the only retail employees in town with a health plan. I wouldn’t worry too much about the profits, because I have 200 million dollars.
9. Pay to have kids. ‘Nuff said. Wait I’m already doing this.
10. Give to charity. I would give a lot of money to the Humane Society, local no-kill animal shelters, and cancer research. I would set up a fund to help people pay for veterinary treatments for their pets and for a free spay and neuter program in my area. I would set up a turtle rescue operation that works to save slow-moving turtles from being hit by cars during mating season.
So basically I want to become a kooky Martha Stewart. With this list, I am also hoping that there will be enough money left over (100 mil or so) that I can hire a trusted advisor (I already know someone so I'm ready) and set up some investments that will allow me to live off the interest for the rest of my life. I don’t want to eat caviar for breakfast, but neither do I want to worry about money ever again. I don’t think this is too much to ask.
Oh and a footnote: we've entered Rosie in a photo contest and we're rallying the vote, so if you feel like moseying on over to their site and voting, we're #8. Go Rosie! http://lowdownonline.com/photo-contest-aug/
8/4/09
How I spent my summer vacation
OK I’m back. Once again, I departed on a summer vacation with a list of things to do as long as my arm, and once again, I did many of them but not all. I return to the land of the living with the homestead in good order, ready for a happy onslaught of company at next weekend’s family reunion.
I would like to share a few things with you all. The first one is a phenomenon I like to call ‘Vacation Hair.’ My once-fabulous haircut, dubbed the Bonjour Baby! by my hilarious hairdresser Azra, went through the vacation hair translation machine and came out comme ça:
What people at work don’t know about me is that I often wander the earth looking like that. If they ran into me in my town one day, while they were enjoying a day of sightseeing or something else genteel, and I was running into town for a jug of milk or something, they would not have stopped to chat. They would likely not have recognized me.
The biggest undertaking of my two-week vacation was to build railings onto my new deck. I had the crazy plan to use cedar and galvanized steel cable, and people doubted me (I’m not naming names) but I think it turned out ok for a home-made jobbie. Even the guy who built my deck was impressed, and is off to go put steel cables on HIS railings, the copycat. So I present to you a visual tour of my railing installation project:
There were several underlying themes to my holidays: the rain (almost every single day), the hair (see above), some medical experiments (no animals were involved), lots of cleaning, which made absolutely zero difference ‘cause the house is still a mess, and I am now convinced that Rosie speaks English. Well, understands English – more work is required to get her to speak it. We spent so much time together, she’s probably jonesing as badly as I am right now. At least I hope she is. She’s probably catching up on her sleep. We spent all of our time together, as she became like my little shadow, following me from room to room, sleeping wherever I was working. We spent good quality time together, me and Rosie, and we are now closer than we’ve ever been. I now officially love her TOO MUCH.
I went to the land with my brother and the septic folks to talk about my BIL’s cottage, I went to the land for the afternoon with my girlfriend Fiona and Rosie, and we went this past weekend for the first overnight stay at our cozy cottage. We had our neighbor friends up on Saturday with their dogs and we had a lovely time, basking in the first really nice day in a long time. We floated on air mattresses, ate chocolate chip cookies, and then when they left hubby and I took Rosie fishing. She’s not a good fisherman, Rosie. She thrashes around in the boat. She threatens to jump in the water at all times. It’s so not relaxing. Eric still managed to catch two fish, one of which became the dinner that we ate at 10:45 pm (damn campfire cooking!) in our trailer, by the light of two tealights. We learned that we need to improve the lighting in our trailer.
Sunday a.m. we built a little deck off of the front of our trailer, using pre-cut boards taken from our old deck at home. A little bit of recycling DIY. Another fun swim (Rosie has the air mattress all figured out now. She rides it on her own, all four paws up, standing on it. I have now purchased her a boogie board so fun pictures will come, I am sure of it.) and then home for a day of normalcy before the back-to-work bug hit.
I would like to share a few things with you all. The first one is a phenomenon I like to call ‘Vacation Hair.’ My once-fabulous haircut, dubbed the Bonjour Baby! by my hilarious hairdresser Azra, went through the vacation hair translation machine and came out comme ça:
What people at work don’t know about me is that I often wander the earth looking like that. If they ran into me in my town one day, while they were enjoying a day of sightseeing or something else genteel, and I was running into town for a jug of milk or something, they would not have stopped to chat. They would likely not have recognized me.The biggest undertaking of my two-week vacation was to build railings onto my new deck. I had the crazy plan to use cedar and galvanized steel cable, and people doubted me (I’m not naming names) but I think it turned out ok for a home-made jobbie. Even the guy who built my deck was impressed, and is off to go put steel cables on HIS railings, the copycat. So I present to you a visual tour of my railing installation project:
There were several underlying themes to my holidays: the rain (almost every single day), the hair (see above), some medical experiments (no animals were involved), lots of cleaning, which made absolutely zero difference ‘cause the house is still a mess, and I am now convinced that Rosie speaks English. Well, understands English – more work is required to get her to speak it. We spent so much time together, she’s probably jonesing as badly as I am right now. At least I hope she is. She’s probably catching up on her sleep. We spent all of our time together, as she became like my little shadow, following me from room to room, sleeping wherever I was working. We spent good quality time together, me and Rosie, and we are now closer than we’ve ever been. I now officially love her TOO MUCH.
I went to the land with my brother and the septic folks to talk about my BIL’s cottage, I went to the land for the afternoon with my girlfriend Fiona and Rosie, and we went this past weekend for the first overnight stay at our cozy cottage. We had our neighbor friends up on Saturday with their dogs and we had a lovely time, basking in the first really nice day in a long time. We floated on air mattresses, ate chocolate chip cookies, and then when they left hubby and I took Rosie fishing. She’s not a good fisherman, Rosie. She thrashes around in the boat. She threatens to jump in the water at all times. It’s so not relaxing. Eric still managed to catch two fish, one of which became the dinner that we ate at 10:45 pm (damn campfire cooking!) in our trailer, by the light of two tealights. We learned that we need to improve the lighting in our trailer.
Sunday a.m. we built a little deck off of the front of our trailer, using pre-cut boards taken from our old deck at home. A little bit of recycling DIY. Another fun swim (Rosie has the air mattress all figured out now. She rides it on her own, all four paws up, standing on it. I have now purchased her a boogie board so fun pictures will come, I am sure of it.) and then home for a day of normalcy before the back-to-work bug hit.
All that surfing makes her sleepy.
I should be in that photo, spooning her and smooching her ears!
And now, I am back at work. I have a bit of a tan. I feel like a caged wild animal, but at least my hair has been tamed.
And now, I am back at work. I have a bit of a tan. I feel like a caged wild animal, but at least my hair has been tamed.
7/17/09
SuperMom
A long long time ago, I publicly stated my intention to slipcover my couch. I had this fantasy that I was going to simply buy 18 metres of fabric (according to my measurements), measure it out, and make a slipcover, using my very basic sewing skills. The couch body is still in very good shape but 10 years of regular use, in a fully-sunny room, with an assortment of cats and one gregarious dog, took its toll on its fabric shell.
Well that did not happen. Life is busy, I hate sewing, and priorities got shifted around. We re-tiled the kitchen, had a deck built, finished the trailer, cleared a lot, had a laneway put in, etc. etc and our poor little couch (actually not so little) sat there throughout, getting holier and more and more grungy. I have been afraid to wash the cushion covers in fear that they would disintegrate in the washer, so they were getting a bit gamey. The stuffing was popping out of them and the middle cushion was held shut with safety pins, a victim of the last time I tried to wash it. I’d taken to covering it with various jaunty tablecloths to ‘freshen it up’ and hide the injuries. It was overdue for a re-haul.
Enter my mother, who started fabric shopping for me in my absence. She is a seamstress/dressmaker/fabric expert/designer by trade, and informed me that she would take on the project. I was saved.
We hit the mondo fabric shop in town last Saturday, where we found not one but two options for a slipcover. The first was ok, the colour was not perfect, but it was really sturdy and the price was right at 10 bucks a yard. The second was the absolute perfect colour, but twice as expensive and not as tough. We went with the former - $10 a yard enabled me to justify buying a really gorgeous contrasting fabric for cushion covers. At the cutting table we learned that though the chart said we’d need 13 yards to cover a sofa like ours, the roll only had 9.5 on it. We decided to take it anyway; it was extra-wide and Mom said she’d make it work.
And make it work she did. I got a call at work informing me that she’d finished cutting it all out, and had ONE INCH of fabric left. Hubby calculated that to be a 99.7% efficiency rate.
And now, not even one week later, I have a new couch. The colour (as it turns out) is more than perfect, and goes with everything else in my living room. Behold:
Well that did not happen. Life is busy, I hate sewing, and priorities got shifted around. We re-tiled the kitchen, had a deck built, finished the trailer, cleared a lot, had a laneway put in, etc. etc and our poor little couch (actually not so little) sat there throughout, getting holier and more and more grungy. I have been afraid to wash the cushion covers in fear that they would disintegrate in the washer, so they were getting a bit gamey. The stuffing was popping out of them and the middle cushion was held shut with safety pins, a victim of the last time I tried to wash it. I’d taken to covering it with various jaunty tablecloths to ‘freshen it up’ and hide the injuries. It was overdue for a re-haul.
Enter my mother, who started fabric shopping for me in my absence. She is a seamstress/dressmaker/fabric expert/designer by trade, and informed me that she would take on the project. I was saved.
We hit the mondo fabric shop in town last Saturday, where we found not one but two options for a slipcover. The first was ok, the colour was not perfect, but it was really sturdy and the price was right at 10 bucks a yard. The second was the absolute perfect colour, but twice as expensive and not as tough. We went with the former - $10 a yard enabled me to justify buying a really gorgeous contrasting fabric for cushion covers. At the cutting table we learned that though the chart said we’d need 13 yards to cover a sofa like ours, the roll only had 9.5 on it. We decided to take it anyway; it was extra-wide and Mom said she’d make it work.
And make it work she did. I got a call at work informing me that she’d finished cutting it all out, and had ONE INCH of fabric left. Hubby calculated that to be a 99.7% efficiency rate.
And now, not even one week later, I have a new couch. The colour (as it turns out) is more than perfect, and goes with everything else in my living room. Behold:
Is this not the most beautiful couch arm?
My mom is a wizard. She could teach a class at Hogworts.
In honour of this most recent and resounding success, I thought I might highlight some of her other major successes. She is good at everything she touches, my mother, which is tough to live up to but damn handy to have around. And I wasn’t going to make my own wedding dress:
How many hours of hand-beading did that take, mom? Like 100 or so? How much bad t.v. did you have to endure while working on that puppy?
Her skills have plenty of industrial applications too. My brother recently needed his free dirtbike pants to fit, but since they were free they were the wrong size – way too small. Mom added sporty swooping panels of tough fabric, cut out of an old hockey bag, and now you can’t even tell that they weren’t bought that way at the store. Also, she made an awning for their boat. Hemp curtains for my living room. Slipcovers for my easy chairs. My ski pants. My cousin’s wedding dress, my other cousin’s wedding dress, my cousin on the other side’s wedding dress, my aunt’s wedding dress, my girlfriend’s maid-of-honour dress (sight unseen – she sent in the measurements. It fit perfectly) and the wedding, prom and bridesmaid dresses of nearly everyone in our area. At my prom, four or five people had dresses made by my mom. She had her own line of clothes for awhile too, and once in a while a coworker would turn up wearing one of her pieces, or I’d see one walking down the street.
I would feel like the next-generation-failure, but I take heart in focusing on the few things that I can do better than her. There aren’t many – she cooks better, she knits better, she bakes better, she reads tons of books, my dog is nuts about her, she can build things, she makes great potatoes, she cuts hair, and even though she’s 25 years older she’s way hotter than I am – but I think I have her topped in three departments: the first is pottery. And only because I have been at it longer. If she’d taken four full rounds of pottery classes she’d probably have made an ornate bathtub by now. The second is computers. I am by necessity better with computers than she is but I suspect she’s catching up (hi mom!) The third is…. um…….maybe there isn’t a third. Finding tiny things? I’m good at that. Skiing maybe?
I guess the one disadvantage of being good at everything is that everyone always asks you to do stuff for them. Whether overtly or passive-aggressively, which is my preferred method. By simply NOT slip covering my couch, and forcing her to look at its grubby, slouchy, hole-covered, faded shell, I subtly maneuvered her into doing something about it. Sneaky eh?
Anyway, I have a supermom. Me and Alexis Stewart should get together and commiserate. Alexis, if you’re reading this, call me. I know how you feel.
Not that your own moms aren’t all great, but I know that you are all secretly a bit jealous. Hands off! She’s mine.
7/13/09
The weekends, from here on out
I’ve had to adjust my lifestyle. I am a person who is not super-fond of change, so I find myself struggling to come to grips with certain lifestyle shifts that have been necessary of late. I have major issues. Right now they are:
- now that we are at the lake every weekend, when the hell am I supposed to do my laundry?
- Now that I have to pack a cooler every weekend, what do I eat for lunch?
I am not used to confronting these kinds of questions. To the first, my solution has so far been to do a load or two every weeknight evening, but the wardrobe’s been a bit disjointed as a result. We find ourselves having to wear either all white or all black, or all bright colours. Hubby’s solution has been to drag out some of his clothes from the olden days and so one day last week he went to work looking like a gigolo. I was sleepy in the morning and didn’t catch it until he picked me up at 5:30 p.m. That shirt is now going into the ironing basket and never coming out.
It has also resulted in my forgetting that I have a load in the washer that needs to go in the dryer, so several times this week I’ve gone to the basement to discover a dank, soggy load of laundry in the washer left over from the night before that doesn’t smell so hot, and has to be re-washed. This is what happens when you start doing laundry at 10 p.m.
The answer to the second question is not so simple. I am not a fan of sandwiches per se, and I find lunch kind of a stressful meal to prepare. Breakfast is easy: eggs, bread, bacon, done. Cereal and milk? Done. Oatmeal, water, and a microwave? Done. Dinner is more complex but a bit more creative, and it’s not unreasonable to fire up the stove/campfire/BBQ to cook a meal at dinnertime, planned around one central meat item.
But lunch? I resent cooking at lunch, so it has to be something cold and easy to prepare. Salads require a lot of ingredients and don’t always travel well, and don’t fill up a man who’s been working in the bush with a chainsaw. Sandwiches require luncheon meats, the majority of which I find kind of disgusting, and the right blend of condiments and toppings that don’t make your bread soggy. To really avoid sogginess you have to bring all the ingredients in the cooler separately, which requires packing them all up individually in space-hogging containers. And then there’s the fact that I don’t love sandwiches. They’re too limp and bready or something. I can handle a bun, but I don’t keep buns in the house (I don’t know why) so it always requires a trip to the store. See? Lunch is fraught. I prefer to snack and snack and snack in the middle of the day but hubby loves a lunch. Last night we had a ‘serious’ conversation about how he doesn’t feel like we can adequately share our love because we don’t enjoy eating sandwiches together. “I wish that you loved sandwiches as I do. Then we could eat them together and truly feel united.”
At least now when we go up to the land I have a nice spot to prepare said sandwiches. Behold:
It’s difficult because so far, she doesn’t wear shoes (though I have my eye on these. Just kidding . They're more expensive than mine.) so she can’t take them off when she comes inside and she tracks dirt all over the place. I took that lovely picture of the kitchen knowing that the dirty futon in the background is my new reality. Luckily it’s pretty sandy all around the trailer so unless it’s wet out, the dirt brushes off easily, but the floor ends up being kind of grubby all the time. Next weekend we are building a deck out front of the trailer so there will be an added level of distance between dirty feet and trailer floor. I need to also keep a foot-washing bucket handy by the door, because I don’t want dirty feet in the beds.
We haven’t yet slept in the trailer overnight (what is WITH this summer?), but I will surely report back when we do. I took a nap but that doesn't count. So far, we have only gone up for the day, to enjoy the front yard:
- now that we are at the lake every weekend, when the hell am I supposed to do my laundry?
- Now that I have to pack a cooler every weekend, what do I eat for lunch?
I am not used to confronting these kinds of questions. To the first, my solution has so far been to do a load or two every weeknight evening, but the wardrobe’s been a bit disjointed as a result. We find ourselves having to wear either all white or all black, or all bright colours. Hubby’s solution has been to drag out some of his clothes from the olden days and so one day last week he went to work looking like a gigolo. I was sleepy in the morning and didn’t catch it until he picked me up at 5:30 p.m. That shirt is now going into the ironing basket and never coming out.
It has also resulted in my forgetting that I have a load in the washer that needs to go in the dryer, so several times this week I’ve gone to the basement to discover a dank, soggy load of laundry in the washer left over from the night before that doesn’t smell so hot, and has to be re-washed. This is what happens when you start doing laundry at 10 p.m.
The answer to the second question is not so simple. I am not a fan of sandwiches per se, and I find lunch kind of a stressful meal to prepare. Breakfast is easy: eggs, bread, bacon, done. Cereal and milk? Done. Oatmeal, water, and a microwave? Done. Dinner is more complex but a bit more creative, and it’s not unreasonable to fire up the stove/campfire/BBQ to cook a meal at dinnertime, planned around one central meat item.
But lunch? I resent cooking at lunch, so it has to be something cold and easy to prepare. Salads require a lot of ingredients and don’t always travel well, and don’t fill up a man who’s been working in the bush with a chainsaw. Sandwiches require luncheon meats, the majority of which I find kind of disgusting, and the right blend of condiments and toppings that don’t make your bread soggy. To really avoid sogginess you have to bring all the ingredients in the cooler separately, which requires packing them all up individually in space-hogging containers. And then there’s the fact that I don’t love sandwiches. They’re too limp and bready or something. I can handle a bun, but I don’t keep buns in the house (I don’t know why) so it always requires a trip to the store. See? Lunch is fraught. I prefer to snack and snack and snack in the middle of the day but hubby loves a lunch. Last night we had a ‘serious’ conversation about how he doesn’t feel like we can adequately share our love because we don’t enjoy eating sandwiches together. “I wish that you loved sandwiches as I do. Then we could eat them together and truly feel united.”
At least now when we go up to the land I have a nice spot to prepare said sandwiches. Behold:
And then when we eat lunch, we are very civilized:
Rosie also enjoys the trailer.
It’s difficult because so far, she doesn’t wear shoes (though I have my eye on these. Just kidding . They're more expensive than mine.) so she can’t take them off when she comes inside and she tracks dirt all over the place. I took that lovely picture of the kitchen knowing that the dirty futon in the background is my new reality. Luckily it’s pretty sandy all around the trailer so unless it’s wet out, the dirt brushes off easily, but the floor ends up being kind of grubby all the time. Next weekend we are building a deck out front of the trailer so there will be an added level of distance between dirty feet and trailer floor. I need to also keep a foot-washing bucket handy by the door, because I don’t want dirty feet in the beds. 
We haven’t yet slept in the trailer overnight (what is WITH this summer?), but I will surely report back when we do. I took a nap but that doesn't count. So far, we have only gone up for the day, to enjoy the front yard:
6/23/09
The Open Window is More Interesting.
Last night I had the good fortune of getting a ride home with my brother and his girlfriend. It’s not that I dislike riding home with hubby, it’s just that it’s always late, and getting home at 5:30 is a real luxury that I could get used to very quickly.
Alas it was like 48 degrees in my house when I got there. It was so hot, poor Rosie was being very still, lurking in the shadows. I immediately threw all the windows wide open and set up a fan in the back-est darkest room, and we decided to just lay low for a bit.
I turned on the t.v. because I never do that. I thought “I am going to watch all those shows that I don’t get to watch when hubby’s here because he’d rather watch documentaries/nature shows/the news 3 times in a row.” I turned on the t.v. and Rosie and I plopped onto the futon and we watched t.v. Rosie is injured and that’s enough excuse for me.
Wow is t.v. ever bad these days. In my normal life, when hubby’s around and it’s not the middle of summer, I generally only tune in for a handful of shows: Tuesday nights we’d watch Flight of the Conchords for a half-hour, Wednesdays I’ll watch like 4 episodes in a row of At the End of My Leash where an annoying but effective dog-trainer guy works with all these families, usually completely irritating, to rehabilitate their dogs/themselves. It’s my guilty pleasure. He thinks he’s Cesar Milan but he’s so totally Calgary. I like the dogs though, and Rosie enjoys it.
On Thursdays we settle in with our pizza dinner (home-made! It’s not as bad as it sounds!) and allow ourselves to watch 3 hours solid of television. We start with My Name is Earl, not our favorite favorite but we’ll miss it anyway, then move to whatever they’ve got on next, which most recently was the excellent Parks and Recreation featuring the excellent Amy Poehler. Then we slide into The Office and cap it off with 30 Rock. Following that hilarity, we use The National as our chill-out room. Usually I knock off at about 10:30, once I’ve seen the top stories.
But it's summer now, and last night I flipped the channels, desperately looking for something to watch. I started with ET Canada where I learned all I never wanted to know about celebrities for the day, and then I went over to HGTV, where I watched perky real estate agents try to help people look for homes. A fellow named ‘Cheyne’ (pronounced ‘Shane’) who was also a falconer was looking for his first home, with great expectations. His mother carried a small dog with her wherever she went and was convinced she could negotiate $50k off the asking price. A young married couple, the husband of which was in a rock band, were looking to move out of the tour bus and into an apartment (!)… but with the bandmates. That’s an understanding wife. As she squealed, upon seeing her fully decorated new bedroom, “it’s just like a hotel!” and caught myself yelling “BECAUSE IT’S GOT NONE OF YOUR DAMN STUFF IN IT!” I realized I needed to turn off the t.v.
These days, if the options are watching snotty NYC Prep school kids being horrid, watching snotty airheads in L.A., watching irritating ‘celebrities’ survive in the jungle, watching people compete in talent shows, watching the evidence of peoples’ bad financial or relationship decisions, or watching real estate agents try to turn a silk purse into a sow’s ear, I think I might just throw the t.v. set out the window and enjoy the breeze.
Alas it was like 48 degrees in my house when I got there. It was so hot, poor Rosie was being very still, lurking in the shadows. I immediately threw all the windows wide open and set up a fan in the back-est darkest room, and we decided to just lay low for a bit.
I turned on the t.v. because I never do that. I thought “I am going to watch all those shows that I don’t get to watch when hubby’s here because he’d rather watch documentaries/nature shows/the news 3 times in a row.” I turned on the t.v. and Rosie and I plopped onto the futon and we watched t.v. Rosie is injured and that’s enough excuse for me.
Wow is t.v. ever bad these days. In my normal life, when hubby’s around and it’s not the middle of summer, I generally only tune in for a handful of shows: Tuesday nights we’d watch Flight of the Conchords for a half-hour, Wednesdays I’ll watch like 4 episodes in a row of At the End of My Leash where an annoying but effective dog-trainer guy works with all these families, usually completely irritating, to rehabilitate their dogs/themselves. It’s my guilty pleasure. He thinks he’s Cesar Milan but he’s so totally Calgary. I like the dogs though, and Rosie enjoys it.
On Thursdays we settle in with our pizza dinner (home-made! It’s not as bad as it sounds!) and allow ourselves to watch 3 hours solid of television. We start with My Name is Earl, not our favorite favorite but we’ll miss it anyway, then move to whatever they’ve got on next, which most recently was the excellent Parks and Recreation featuring the excellent Amy Poehler. Then we slide into The Office and cap it off with 30 Rock. Following that hilarity, we use The National as our chill-out room. Usually I knock off at about 10:30, once I’ve seen the top stories.
But it's summer now, and last night I flipped the channels, desperately looking for something to watch. I started with ET Canada where I learned all I never wanted to know about celebrities for the day, and then I went over to HGTV, where I watched perky real estate agents try to help people look for homes. A fellow named ‘Cheyne’ (pronounced ‘Shane’) who was also a falconer was looking for his first home, with great expectations. His mother carried a small dog with her wherever she went and was convinced she could negotiate $50k off the asking price. A young married couple, the husband of which was in a rock band, were looking to move out of the tour bus and into an apartment (!)… but with the bandmates. That’s an understanding wife. As she squealed, upon seeing her fully decorated new bedroom, “it’s just like a hotel!” and caught myself yelling “BECAUSE IT’S GOT NONE OF YOUR DAMN STUFF IN IT!” I realized I needed to turn off the t.v.
These days, if the options are watching snotty NYC Prep school kids being horrid, watching snotty airheads in L.A., watching irritating ‘celebrities’ survive in the jungle, watching people compete in talent shows, watching the evidence of peoples’ bad financial or relationship decisions, or watching real estate agents try to turn a silk purse into a sow’s ear, I think I might just throw the t.v. set out the window and enjoy the breeze.
6/22/09
OK Summer, It's ON.
This weekend our little family was bitch-slapped by mother nature. It was nothing that we should ring alarm bells about I don’t think, but someone flicked the ‘summer’ switch and we were immediately inflicted with all summer concerns.
Saturday we went up to the land to check out our new laneway. It was momentous – we were finally able to DRIVE into our lot. What a great feeling. However, when we parked the truck and got out, we realized the side-effect of taking a backhoe to black earth in the deep forest in June – the place is a wall of blackflies and mosquitos. The laneway is a bit messy but give it a few weeks and the edges will start to grow back and cover up the mess. We need to cut down a few more (dead and scruffy) trees to get the air moving in there, to ward off the insect army.
We first headed down to the waterfront and I took the first swim in my own lake. It felt marvelous – the water was the perfect temperature, the bottom felt ok, it was nice and shallow and Rosie had the time of her life, running back and forth through the water, swimming around in circles and chasing sticks. She swam for about an hour solid. She and hubby swam down the shoreline and then back up the shoreline, while I stayed behind with the loppers and clipped down the crappy little trees that made the beach inaccessible. I didn’t cut them all down – just the ones blocking our beach and the ones blocking the access point for our future dock. The beach is now sunny and passable. I call it a beach but really it’s a sandy strip about 2 feet wide – 4 at its widest.
Then we tried to measure out BIL’s cottage footprint, based on plans he sent us Friday night. I think we did an ok job, but we were rushed, as the dog was being eaten alive. No joke, her eyes are still surrounded by little bumps. Luckily the bites don’t seem to irritate her the way they irritate me, but it still makes me sad to see her with flies stuck to her eyes. I think that footprint will need to be re-measured so he doesn’t end up with a wonky cottage.
Sunday we took off and headed north, to 31-mile lake, to spend the day with my family. My parents launched their boat for the season, so it was the first day ‘on the lake’ for all of us. We got out of the car at the boat launch and Rosie went running into the water to frolic as she usually does, but I heard her yelp, and saw her hobble out of the water in such pain that she didn’t want to stand up. She just lay in the dirt holding her paw up and looking at me, whimpering. All I saw when I examined it was a raised swollen bump that appeared to be rasped or scratched – no blood, no nothing. Anyway, when we got to the island 40 minutes later she appeared to feel better but then got worse, and even though her brother was there, she didn’t really run and play. Swimming felt ok (the water was pretty chilly and it’s low-impact, and probably cleans it out a bit) so we swam and swam, around the island. She must have gone around the island four full times. She spent the rest of the time huddled up on the dock or in the boat, shaking a bit, covered in a towel, giving us the sad eyes. He paw wasn’t looking any better – between the toes it was all puffy and red, but still no blood.
So far, our leading theory as to what happened in the water is that she was nipped ever-so-slightly by a ticked-off snapping turtle. When we returned to the parking lot at the end of the day, our theory was reinforced by the lot full of snapping-turtle tracks, and areas dug up in search of a nesting site, which had all happened while we were out for the day. There was a busy snapping turtle in the hood, and it was feeling a bit defensive. I think Rosie accidentally paddled it while it was lurking in the mud, and it nipped her between the toes – obviously it didn’t get a good shot at her thank god, or else she’d be down a toe today. For once I’m happy Rosie is always moving.
She slept all the way home and last evening appeared to be feeling a bit better – she was walking on it limping a bit, and using it to stabilize her bone while chewing. This morning her body no longer felt hot, and wasn’t panting anymore, but the paw was still swollen so my mom’s taking her to the vet this afternoon to check it out. I want to see if we can give her any painkillers.
It was an on-and-off cloudy day, and while we were all on the island enjoying ourselves, all of a sudden the wind whipped up and it started to rain. It poured, but we all got into my parents’ boat and pulled the cover over us just in time. We were cozy in there, with 6 humans and 2 (large) dogs, curled up, listening to the radio and having some cocktails. The weather got beautiful again quickly once the rain passed, and we all ended up going home burnt to a damn crisp. We are all red today. Those cloudy days are sneaky!
Anyway, stay tuned for the next part of the turtle-bitten dog saga. My heart breaks for Rosie, who didn’t have much fun at all yesterday. Between the bugs, the turtles, the rain, the sunburns, and the knee I bashed on a rock while swimming, we were walloped by summer this weekend and going back to work feels a bit like sweet relief. The deck guy is at our place, the trailer’s almost finished, and I have high hopes for July and August.
Saturday we went up to the land to check out our new laneway. It was momentous – we were finally able to DRIVE into our lot. What a great feeling. However, when we parked the truck and got out, we realized the side-effect of taking a backhoe to black earth in the deep forest in June – the place is a wall of blackflies and mosquitos. The laneway is a bit messy but give it a few weeks and the edges will start to grow back and cover up the mess. We need to cut down a few more (dead and scruffy) trees to get the air moving in there, to ward off the insect army.
We first headed down to the waterfront and I took the first swim in my own lake. It felt marvelous – the water was the perfect temperature, the bottom felt ok, it was nice and shallow and Rosie had the time of her life, running back and forth through the water, swimming around in circles and chasing sticks. She swam for about an hour solid. She and hubby swam down the shoreline and then back up the shoreline, while I stayed behind with the loppers and clipped down the crappy little trees that made the beach inaccessible. I didn’t cut them all down – just the ones blocking our beach and the ones blocking the access point for our future dock. The beach is now sunny and passable. I call it a beach but really it’s a sandy strip about 2 feet wide – 4 at its widest.
Then we tried to measure out BIL’s cottage footprint, based on plans he sent us Friday night. I think we did an ok job, but we were rushed, as the dog was being eaten alive. No joke, her eyes are still surrounded by little bumps. Luckily the bites don’t seem to irritate her the way they irritate me, but it still makes me sad to see her with flies stuck to her eyes. I think that footprint will need to be re-measured so he doesn’t end up with a wonky cottage.
Sunday we took off and headed north, to 31-mile lake, to spend the day with my family. My parents launched their boat for the season, so it was the first day ‘on the lake’ for all of us. We got out of the car at the boat launch and Rosie went running into the water to frolic as she usually does, but I heard her yelp, and saw her hobble out of the water in such pain that she didn’t want to stand up. She just lay in the dirt holding her paw up and looking at me, whimpering. All I saw when I examined it was a raised swollen bump that appeared to be rasped or scratched – no blood, no nothing. Anyway, when we got to the island 40 minutes later she appeared to feel better but then got worse, and even though her brother was there, she didn’t really run and play. Swimming felt ok (the water was pretty chilly and it’s low-impact, and probably cleans it out a bit) so we swam and swam, around the island. She must have gone around the island four full times. She spent the rest of the time huddled up on the dock or in the boat, shaking a bit, covered in a towel, giving us the sad eyes. He paw wasn’t looking any better – between the toes it was all puffy and red, but still no blood.
So far, our leading theory as to what happened in the water is that she was nipped ever-so-slightly by a ticked-off snapping turtle. When we returned to the parking lot at the end of the day, our theory was reinforced by the lot full of snapping-turtle tracks, and areas dug up in search of a nesting site, which had all happened while we were out for the day. There was a busy snapping turtle in the hood, and it was feeling a bit defensive. I think Rosie accidentally paddled it while it was lurking in the mud, and it nipped her between the toes – obviously it didn’t get a good shot at her thank god, or else she’d be down a toe today. For once I’m happy Rosie is always moving.
She slept all the way home and last evening appeared to be feeling a bit better – she was walking on it limping a bit, and using it to stabilize her bone while chewing. This morning her body no longer felt hot, and wasn’t panting anymore, but the paw was still swollen so my mom’s taking her to the vet this afternoon to check it out. I want to see if we can give her any painkillers.
It was an on-and-off cloudy day, and while we were all on the island enjoying ourselves, all of a sudden the wind whipped up and it started to rain. It poured, but we all got into my parents’ boat and pulled the cover over us just in time. We were cozy in there, with 6 humans and 2 (large) dogs, curled up, listening to the radio and having some cocktails. The weather got beautiful again quickly once the rain passed, and we all ended up going home burnt to a damn crisp. We are all red today. Those cloudy days are sneaky!
Anyway, stay tuned for the next part of the turtle-bitten dog saga. My heart breaks for Rosie, who didn’t have much fun at all yesterday. Between the bugs, the turtles, the rain, the sunburns, and the knee I bashed on a rock while swimming, we were walloped by summer this weekend and going back to work feels a bit like sweet relief. The deck guy is at our place, the trailer’s almost finished, and I have high hopes for July and August.
6/12/09
Letting Go
Hubby and I were on our way into work this morning and the conversation turned to comedy. He’d seen Carol Burnett on TV last night and was reminded of how hilarious she is, and how much her brand of humour works to this day, even though comedy in general has changed. I told him that I have come to the point in my life where I can admit that I really love comedy. I seriously love it. I am totally comfortable saying that I don’t really like dramas. Where some folks might think that indicates a kind of shallowness or lack of intellectual rigour, I am now 33 years old and I don’t like dramas. Lofty Oscar-winning movies like Doubt or The Reader sound like boring dirges to me, exercises in emotional manipulation. Give me Judd Apatow any day. I’ll take Seth Rogan over Sean Penn please.
We got to talking about all those arty movies that film students and people in their early 20s love or love to talk about. I did genuinely enjoy many of them. I’ve seen much of Jim Jarmusch’s oeuvre, I’ve seen Brazil, I’ve seen many Peter Greenaway movies. But the time in my life for such things has passed. I’ve let go of the intellectual poseur that I once maybe aspired to be – I no longer have anything to prove.
That made me think of all the other things that I have let go. Not including my ass (ha ha see? comedy). I have let go of aspirations that I might one day become a jeweler. I enjoyed making jewelry when the time was right, and I really love having that knowledge under my belt and may one day take a course or something just for fun. But I don’t think I’ll invest any more money in tools or other supplies, because I have realized that I don’t have it in me anymore to focus on it. I am putting it on the back burner. Maybe not letting go completely, but not putting pressure on myself to pursue it anymore.
I am letting go of the idea that I will travel the world. I thought about that question in detail one day, and got rigorous with myself in deciding on the places that I’m actually interested in. I made a list. I mean no offense to anyone and I’m sure glad other people are doing it, but in all honesty, I have zero interest in traveling to China, Russia, South America, Africa, Japan and most of the rest of Asia. I’d go to India on a free ticket, but I wouldn’t pursue it. This may make me less interesting in the eyes of some folks, but I had to get honest with myself and pare down the list, because I am at my roots a homebody. Also I hate flying. Now I can really focus on a short list of places that I would really like to see or revisit: Scandinavia, Thailand, the Yukon/Northwest Territories, Italy, and more of Austria, the Netherlands and Germany, which are places with real relevance to my life. So freeing.
I am letting go of some hobbies, because frankly I am overbooked in terms of interest and commitments. I am letting go of the idea of myself as ‘photographer’, because I realize I’m not that good at it and I don’t have the brain energy or focus (ha) to learn all about all the camera settings. I am a point-and-shooter and whatever success I’ve had in the past has been a fluke. I’ll learn to use what I’ve got but nobody should expect a career out of me. Also my sister-in-law is so much better at it that I will defer to her for all photographic needs.
Soon I will let go of home decorating, because I hope that at some point in the near future, it’ll just be done. Once I do this and this and that and this and that other thing….I am taking the pressure off of myself to be a terrific cheese maker, and will instead make easy cheese when the situation calls for it and I really feel like it, like in the summer when the basil and tomatoes are ripe and I can make a quick mozza, and sprinkle it all with fresh ground pepper and balsamic vinegar. Very do-able.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’ll someday be able to grow all of my own produce. Realistically, I have a job, and so am out of the house for 11 hours a day. I’m not a farmer. Also realistically, I live north of Ottawa in zone 4.5/5 and our growing season is not that long. I already got realistic with myself this year and decided not to grow things that are difficult or that I don’t actually love eating (radishes, beets, cantaloupe). One day I will let go of the grow-op too, because I know that I can find organic tomato and pepper seedlings somewhere if I look hard enough and it’ll be worth the time and energy to just pay for them. Also I am lazy – full disclosure. I have tons of enthusiasm for the garden in May and June but come late July and August, things start to become quite neglected in there. When pestilence hits, I’m all like “whatever.”
I am not ambitious. I have come to realize this about myself. I have a great job, am financially comfortable, and I’ll be happy to stay at this level for a really long time. I am not one to climb the ladder and I don't have my eye on anyone else's job. I squeezed my way into the job that I love, and hope that I get to keep it when my term is up in two years, but aside from that I don’t have any more need for power, money, additional responsibility, etc. I hope to become a happy and knowledgeable lifer.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’m young. I’m trying now to focus on not being an awkward middle-aged person. I find it sometimes hard to relate to my much-younger coworkers, and sometimes find myself feeling old and weird and square. Questions like “is that your boyfriend?” sound much weirder coming from someone ten years older than you.
I’ve let go of the idea that I am hip to new music. I have zero idea what all the kids are listening to these days. I just think they should all get out into the sun and eat a cheeseburger and stop wearing their hair so that it looks like it’s on backwards. I stick with my old friends – the Beastie Boys, Beck – all of whom are comfortably middle-aged (I think the Beastie Boys are actually approaching 50) and have picked up a few new ones along the way, but I do not by any means have my finger on any kind of pulse anymore. If it comes to my local bar, I might go see it but other than that I no longer go to see bands at bars and clubs or feel that desire to NEVER MISS ANYTHING. I haven’t bought a music magazine in 5 years.
I’ve let go of the idea of myself as a cat person. I am officially through my cat phase. I still have a cat – Sasha – and I love her dearly, but it’s not the same anymore; the term ‘Crazy cat Lady’ no longer applies. Turns out I was only obsessed with certain cats. When offers of free cats come my way, my gut reaction is “nonononono.” I’ve marked it in memoriam, I’ve moved past it, and now I’m fully committed to being a dog person. Dogs are hilarious and It’s better for the aforementioned ass.
I'm mostly letting go of high heels. I wear orthotics people! From now on it's platforms or kitten heels, but stilettos are no longer my speed.
All of this housecleaning might be indicative of a mid-life crisis, but I really feel like I’m in a simplification phase. Life is busy, the projects have gotten larger, and I’m at a crossroads in terms of family planning etc., so something had to give. I think it’s healthy to do this kind of analysis once or twice a decade.
We got to talking about all those arty movies that film students and people in their early 20s love or love to talk about. I did genuinely enjoy many of them. I’ve seen much of Jim Jarmusch’s oeuvre, I’ve seen Brazil, I’ve seen many Peter Greenaway movies. But the time in my life for such things has passed. I’ve let go of the intellectual poseur that I once maybe aspired to be – I no longer have anything to prove.
That made me think of all the other things that I have let go. Not including my ass (ha ha see? comedy). I have let go of aspirations that I might one day become a jeweler. I enjoyed making jewelry when the time was right, and I really love having that knowledge under my belt and may one day take a course or something just for fun. But I don’t think I’ll invest any more money in tools or other supplies, because I have realized that I don’t have it in me anymore to focus on it. I am putting it on the back burner. Maybe not letting go completely, but not putting pressure on myself to pursue it anymore.
I am letting go of the idea that I will travel the world. I thought about that question in detail one day, and got rigorous with myself in deciding on the places that I’m actually interested in. I made a list. I mean no offense to anyone and I’m sure glad other people are doing it, but in all honesty, I have zero interest in traveling to China, Russia, South America, Africa, Japan and most of the rest of Asia. I’d go to India on a free ticket, but I wouldn’t pursue it. This may make me less interesting in the eyes of some folks, but I had to get honest with myself and pare down the list, because I am at my roots a homebody. Also I hate flying. Now I can really focus on a short list of places that I would really like to see or revisit: Scandinavia, Thailand, the Yukon/Northwest Territories, Italy, and more of Austria, the Netherlands and Germany, which are places with real relevance to my life. So freeing.
I am letting go of some hobbies, because frankly I am overbooked in terms of interest and commitments. I am letting go of the idea of myself as ‘photographer’, because I realize I’m not that good at it and I don’t have the brain energy or focus (ha) to learn all about all the camera settings. I am a point-and-shooter and whatever success I’ve had in the past has been a fluke. I’ll learn to use what I’ve got but nobody should expect a career out of me. Also my sister-in-law is so much better at it that I will defer to her for all photographic needs.
Soon I will let go of home decorating, because I hope that at some point in the near future, it’ll just be done. Once I do this and this and that and this and that other thing….I am taking the pressure off of myself to be a terrific cheese maker, and will instead make easy cheese when the situation calls for it and I really feel like it, like in the summer when the basil and tomatoes are ripe and I can make a quick mozza, and sprinkle it all with fresh ground pepper and balsamic vinegar. Very do-able.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’ll someday be able to grow all of my own produce. Realistically, I have a job, and so am out of the house for 11 hours a day. I’m not a farmer. Also realistically, I live north of Ottawa in zone 4.5/5 and our growing season is not that long. I already got realistic with myself this year and decided not to grow things that are difficult or that I don’t actually love eating (radishes, beets, cantaloupe). One day I will let go of the grow-op too, because I know that I can find organic tomato and pepper seedlings somewhere if I look hard enough and it’ll be worth the time and energy to just pay for them. Also I am lazy – full disclosure. I have tons of enthusiasm for the garden in May and June but come late July and August, things start to become quite neglected in there. When pestilence hits, I’m all like “whatever.”
I am not ambitious. I have come to realize this about myself. I have a great job, am financially comfortable, and I’ll be happy to stay at this level for a really long time. I am not one to climb the ladder and I don't have my eye on anyone else's job. I squeezed my way into the job that I love, and hope that I get to keep it when my term is up in two years, but aside from that I don’t have any more need for power, money, additional responsibility, etc. I hope to become a happy and knowledgeable lifer.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’m young. I’m trying now to focus on not being an awkward middle-aged person. I find it sometimes hard to relate to my much-younger coworkers, and sometimes find myself feeling old and weird and square. Questions like “is that your boyfriend?” sound much weirder coming from someone ten years older than you.
I’ve let go of the idea that I am hip to new music. I have zero idea what all the kids are listening to these days. I just think they should all get out into the sun and eat a cheeseburger and stop wearing their hair so that it looks like it’s on backwards. I stick with my old friends – the Beastie Boys, Beck – all of whom are comfortably middle-aged (I think the Beastie Boys are actually approaching 50) and have picked up a few new ones along the way, but I do not by any means have my finger on any kind of pulse anymore. If it comes to my local bar, I might go see it but other than that I no longer go to see bands at bars and clubs or feel that desire to NEVER MISS ANYTHING. I haven’t bought a music magazine in 5 years.
I’ve let go of the idea of myself as a cat person. I am officially through my cat phase. I still have a cat – Sasha – and I love her dearly, but it’s not the same anymore; the term ‘Crazy cat Lady’ no longer applies. Turns out I was only obsessed with certain cats. When offers of free cats come my way, my gut reaction is “nonononono.” I’ve marked it in memoriam, I’ve moved past it, and now I’m fully committed to being a dog person. Dogs are hilarious and It’s better for the aforementioned ass.
I'm mostly letting go of high heels. I wear orthotics people! From now on it's platforms or kitten heels, but stilettos are no longer my speed.
All of this housecleaning might be indicative of a mid-life crisis, but I really feel like I’m in a simplification phase. Life is busy, the projects have gotten larger, and I’m at a crossroads in terms of family planning etc., so something had to give. I think it’s healthy to do this kind of analysis once or twice a decade.
6/2/09
My Town
My town is funny.
Long a refuge for disenchanted city folks and people who run at a slightly different speed, my little town is unique in that in many ways it’s a rural small town, where everyone knows each other and who they’re sleeping with, and yet it’s a half-hour out of the city, so the lifestyle is sustainable in that you can hold down a decent job while living ‘away from it all’. It’s a haven for industries such as yoga and pottery studios, organic mushroom farming, watercolour painting, shiatsu massage and dog-sledding. It has for several decades been happy home to a large gay and lesbian population. There’s ‘Hippie’s Custom Tattoos’ right beside the pizza place, which serves the best pizza on earth, and features one called the ‘Magic Mushroom.’ It's a great place to visit if you need your chakras realigned. Why, just this morning I got a copy of the daily email newsletter with the following public service announcement:
Kripalu yoga is cancelled this Tuesday, June 2nd due to the demystification of channelling happening in the space.
There are literally about 15 yoga classes happening in my village at any given time.
All of this lives side-by-side and in relative harmony with the local population of hunters and fisherman, wood-cutters and dudes with ATVs and snowmobiles. Many of them are one and the same (i.e. fishermen who do pottery or yoga). Our local bar (one of two rockin’ local bars) is owned by a music impresario, who has brought in acts such as the Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Final Fantasy, Danny Michel, and Buck 65. The music they feature has a contemporary-folk and world beat focus and is normally of really high quality, and bands reportedly love playing the venue, whose stage sits right in front of a picture window looking out over the dark river and the mountains. On the off nights, I’m pretty sure the bar still has a ‘Dart Night’ and the old local dudes hold up the bar while drinking their quarts of beer with tiny little glasses. There is a pool table and usually a hockey game on the t.v., and the owner’s dog walks around freely among the crowd. In the winter it’s not uncommon to see the parking lot filled with ski-doos, and in the fall, sometimes the trucks in the lot have deer strapped to their roofs. The other local bar is owned by a local band, and is always hopping. Last saturday there was a horse tied up to the patio, and last night someone pulled up in a backhoe. You can bring in a picture of your dog and they will put it on the dog-wall with everyone else's dogs.
When we bought our new car, the wonderful Pontiac Vibe (the ‘Viberator’) I called up Richard at the local dealership and pretty much said “hey Richard we need a car, do you have any cheap Vibes?” When I couldn’t make up my mind about it, they just held it for me until I was ready to commit. When I call they jokingly answer the phone with “whaddya want?” or some other old-man phone-answering joke because they can see my name come up on the screen. There’s some yuks about my dad to get out of the way before we can do business, and they are always very accommodating with regards to my schedule, or loaner cars.
There are some notable gaps in the economy of our town, which some brave individual should fill some day (not me). I believe an art supply shop, maybe one that sells fabric and yarn as well, and could bring in specialty items like clay for the potters, would do really well. We don’t have a gas station – are we the only town on earth without a gas station? The only take-out around is pizza; I’m not complaining, because our local pizza is earth-shatteringly good, but sometimes I have a hankering for Chinese. A tackle shop and/or marina could do well, since our town is on a river and is surrounded by cottage country; some genius could combine this with the gas station and start raking in the cash. Unfortunately, it’s tough to make a go of it and I’ve seen a lot of businesses start up and then fail almost immediately. They’re doomed before they open their doors. The place nearly shuts down in winter, so if it’s a tourist-driven business, they have to know what they’re getting into before committing.
The government of Québec insists that signage in our town be posted in French only, or French-first-and-bigger, but nobody who actually lives there cares much. Those things matter more in other towns. When those laws came out, local retailers started posting their specials in Ukranian, Thai, Swedish, just to piss off the man. Visitors are usually tourists from all over, and they don’t much care either I don't think, though I’m sure the cottagers visiting from Ontario and from the states would prefer that their cashiers at the grocery store speak at least a bit of English. It’s just economics. We’re a border town and the lines get fuzzy. In our town, English folks speak a bit of French and French folks speak a bit of English and generally everything is copasetic until an election comes along and some politician 'from away' jams a stick in our spokes.
Anyway, that is my ode to my town. I have lived there since I was two years old, interrupted by only one short sojourn in the city when I first moved in with hubby, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else on the planet. Someone asked me the other day “what’s it like actually being from here?” and I couldn’t answer the question. It’s paradise, obviously, and it’s funny, and sad when negative changes or conflicts happen, and interesting to meet the people who come through, stay awhile, then move on. It’s the only place I know.
Long a refuge for disenchanted city folks and people who run at a slightly different speed, my little town is unique in that in many ways it’s a rural small town, where everyone knows each other and who they’re sleeping with, and yet it’s a half-hour out of the city, so the lifestyle is sustainable in that you can hold down a decent job while living ‘away from it all’. It’s a haven for industries such as yoga and pottery studios, organic mushroom farming, watercolour painting, shiatsu massage and dog-sledding. It has for several decades been happy home to a large gay and lesbian population. There’s ‘Hippie’s Custom Tattoos’ right beside the pizza place, which serves the best pizza on earth, and features one called the ‘Magic Mushroom.’ It's a great place to visit if you need your chakras realigned. Why, just this morning I got a copy of the daily email newsletter with the following public service announcement:
Kripalu yoga is cancelled this Tuesday, June 2nd due to the demystification of channelling happening in the space.
There are literally about 15 yoga classes happening in my village at any given time.
All of this lives side-by-side and in relative harmony with the local population of hunters and fisherman, wood-cutters and dudes with ATVs and snowmobiles. Many of them are one and the same (i.e. fishermen who do pottery or yoga). Our local bar (one of two rockin’ local bars) is owned by a music impresario, who has brought in acts such as the Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Final Fantasy, Danny Michel, and Buck 65. The music they feature has a contemporary-folk and world beat focus and is normally of really high quality, and bands reportedly love playing the venue, whose stage sits right in front of a picture window looking out over the dark river and the mountains. On the off nights, I’m pretty sure the bar still has a ‘Dart Night’ and the old local dudes hold up the bar while drinking their quarts of beer with tiny little glasses. There is a pool table and usually a hockey game on the t.v., and the owner’s dog walks around freely among the crowd. In the winter it’s not uncommon to see the parking lot filled with ski-doos, and in the fall, sometimes the trucks in the lot have deer strapped to their roofs. The other local bar is owned by a local band, and is always hopping. Last saturday there was a horse tied up to the patio, and last night someone pulled up in a backhoe. You can bring in a picture of your dog and they will put it on the dog-wall with everyone else's dogs.
When we bought our new car, the wonderful Pontiac Vibe (the ‘Viberator’) I called up Richard at the local dealership and pretty much said “hey Richard we need a car, do you have any cheap Vibes?” When I couldn’t make up my mind about it, they just held it for me until I was ready to commit. When I call they jokingly answer the phone with “whaddya want?” or some other old-man phone-answering joke because they can see my name come up on the screen. There’s some yuks about my dad to get out of the way before we can do business, and they are always very accommodating with regards to my schedule, or loaner cars.
There are some notable gaps in the economy of our town, which some brave individual should fill some day (not me). I believe an art supply shop, maybe one that sells fabric and yarn as well, and could bring in specialty items like clay for the potters, would do really well. We don’t have a gas station – are we the only town on earth without a gas station? The only take-out around is pizza; I’m not complaining, because our local pizza is earth-shatteringly good, but sometimes I have a hankering for Chinese. A tackle shop and/or marina could do well, since our town is on a river and is surrounded by cottage country; some genius could combine this with the gas station and start raking in the cash. Unfortunately, it’s tough to make a go of it and I’ve seen a lot of businesses start up and then fail almost immediately. They’re doomed before they open their doors. The place nearly shuts down in winter, so if it’s a tourist-driven business, they have to know what they’re getting into before committing.
The government of Québec insists that signage in our town be posted in French only, or French-first-and-bigger, but nobody who actually lives there cares much. Those things matter more in other towns. When those laws came out, local retailers started posting their specials in Ukranian, Thai, Swedish, just to piss off the man. Visitors are usually tourists from all over, and they don’t much care either I don't think, though I’m sure the cottagers visiting from Ontario and from the states would prefer that their cashiers at the grocery store speak at least a bit of English. It’s just economics. We’re a border town and the lines get fuzzy. In our town, English folks speak a bit of French and French folks speak a bit of English and generally everything is copasetic until an election comes along and some politician 'from away' jams a stick in our spokes.
Anyway, that is my ode to my town. I have lived there since I was two years old, interrupted by only one short sojourn in the city when I first moved in with hubby, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else on the planet. Someone asked me the other day “what’s it like actually being from here?” and I couldn’t answer the question. It’s paradise, obviously, and it’s funny, and sad when negative changes or conflicts happen, and interesting to meet the people who come through, stay awhile, then move on. It’s the only place I know.
5/28/09
Victory Weekend
It has taken me until now to recover from what has been one of the most foot-intensive weekends I can remember.
Friday night we met up with some friends who were visiting from Toronto. They have 4 kids, and the two eldest girls were in a synchronized swimming competition. We met at their hotel and walked downtown to a restaurant, then walked back, but I had been unprepared for the walking and was wearing inappropriate footwear. I got myself a nice blister which bled all over the back of my shoe. Nice eh?
The next morning we were up with the robins to head into town once more for the Great Glebe Garage Sale. I think I have illustrated in this site before the importance of this event in our household. This year we brought my mom, who made us yummy breakfast sandwiches for proteiny fortification, and it was a very good year. Between us we purchased the following items:
- a really really old first aid cabinet, which will eventually go in our cottage;
- a very cool yellow lamp – I don’t yet know where it will live. I have a rather large lamp collection already;
- Martha Stewart’s “How to Decorate”, 1996 edition;
- A pair of never-worn brown wedge-heel sandals, Nine West, for $8;
- A tiny metal train (engine, two cars and caboose), total 3 inches long, for 50 cents;
- An enamel pail with a handle, which came from a real ghost town in Saskatchewan, apparently (ghosts use buckets? I wonder what for?);
- A chemical toilet for our trailer – brand new, never used – which we were going to have to buy anyway but we got it for $40 (less than half price);
- A beautiful ceramic bed pan;
- A painting – paint by numbers – that hubby paid a dollar for. A woman came up to him later on and said she’d nearly mugged him for it, but offered him $20 for it instead. He didn’t accept;
- Two board games, for the trailer;
- A dinner party game called “Deadly Vacation” which we will play at the electricity-less cottage some dark and stormy night;
- Flippers;
- An ‘O Canada’ ceramic hotplate, featuring the coat of arms’ of all Canadian provinces, for my BIL’s cottage (ha ha we are going to decorate it for him);
- A cooking pot with a lid, for the trailer;
- A chrome kettle, for the trailer;
- Never-used thermal insoles (free);
- Two backpacks (ask hubby why – he collects backpacks like I collect lamps);
- A beautiful new collar for Rosie (pale purple with black polka-dots). She looks like she’s going to a party.
Friday night we met up with some friends who were visiting from Toronto. They have 4 kids, and the two eldest girls were in a synchronized swimming competition. We met at their hotel and walked downtown to a restaurant, then walked back, but I had been unprepared for the walking and was wearing inappropriate footwear. I got myself a nice blister which bled all over the back of my shoe. Nice eh?
The next morning we were up with the robins to head into town once more for the Great Glebe Garage Sale. I think I have illustrated in this site before the importance of this event in our household. This year we brought my mom, who made us yummy breakfast sandwiches for proteiny fortification, and it was a very good year. Between us we purchased the following items:
- a really really old first aid cabinet, which will eventually go in our cottage;
- a very cool yellow lamp – I don’t yet know where it will live. I have a rather large lamp collection already;
- Martha Stewart’s “How to Decorate”, 1996 edition;
- A pair of never-worn brown wedge-heel sandals, Nine West, for $8;
- A tiny metal train (engine, two cars and caboose), total 3 inches long, for 50 cents;
- An enamel pail with a handle, which came from a real ghost town in Saskatchewan, apparently (ghosts use buckets? I wonder what for?);
- A chemical toilet for our trailer – brand new, never used – which we were going to have to buy anyway but we got it for $40 (less than half price);
- A beautiful ceramic bed pan;
- A painting – paint by numbers – that hubby paid a dollar for. A woman came up to him later on and said she’d nearly mugged him for it, but offered him $20 for it instead. He didn’t accept;
- Two board games, for the trailer;
- A dinner party game called “Deadly Vacation” which we will play at the electricity-less cottage some dark and stormy night;
- Flippers;
- An ‘O Canada’ ceramic hotplate, featuring the coat of arms’ of all Canadian provinces, for my BIL’s cottage (ha ha we are going to decorate it for him);
- A cooking pot with a lid, for the trailer;
- A chrome kettle, for the trailer;
- Never-used thermal insoles (free);
- Two backpacks (ask hubby why – he collects backpacks like I collect lamps);
- A beautiful new collar for Rosie (pale purple with black polka-dots). She looks like she’s going to a party.
Hubby making off with his loot. He likes to walk out front to keep an eye out for bargains.
And notable things we did NOT purchase include:
- plants of any kind
- fishing things of any kind
- dishes for the trailer
- dog toys
I think we showed great restraint. I’m not sure how much hubby spent (more because I made him buy the high-ticket items), but I got away with only spending $39. I also petted about 1,200 friendly dogs. That’s a fun day in my book.
As you can see, I even took pictures. Here’s a view down one of the streets:
At the Great Glebe Garage Sale, the pedestrian is always right. And here’s a series of shots I call “Garage Sale Tragedies” ™:
Kitty's found a new place to hide.
No comment (The Strangler).
Sleeping Beauty (The Strangler part deux).
We were home by one but we weren’t sure whether or not the Toronto friends would be coming to our place for dinner, so while hubby drove up to our land to discuss the laneway with the backhoe guy, I stayed home and cleaned the crap out of our house. It felt good but two days later it was filthy again. Le sigh. By Saturday evening I was pretty spent.
Sunday hubby went fishing and I stayed home and painted the trailer with my mom. I got most of the trailer covered with the first coat, but I didn’t buy the best-quality paint and I fear it could go to 3 coats. It’s a really crappy painting job too – lots of tiny areas that require a brush, lots of rough spots to cover, lots of gaps to fill. Totally miserable. Anyway, I will keep on trucking and painting my little heart out.
Then Sunday night we went to the local bar (the most excellent Black Sheep Inn) and checked out SoCalled, a klezmer-rapper I went to high school with. It was an excellent show and I actually danced, and drank a bit too much wine, and Monday morning my feet AND my head hurt.
If every weekend were like that I don’t think I’d have any feet left.
5/19/09
Suddenly I See...
….where in the hell that damn trailer will go.
The weather was kind of poopy on Sunday so we took the opportunity to spend a chilly black-fly-free day up at the land clearing for a laneway. Back in the fall we’d purchased a brand new shiny Stihl chainsaw at our local hardware store during a sale, and were starting to feel a bit foolish with a spic-and-span $500 chainsaw sitting in the basement untouched. We recruited my dad and then my brother volunteered and before you know it, we had a real honest-to-goodness work crew.
We’d gone up there a few weekends earlier, when there was still a bit of snow on the ground, and marked with spray paint which trees we wanted to cut. We chose a route that would allow us to carve out one laneway for the two properties, which would branch off at the end in an informal ‘T’ formation from my brother-in-law’s (BIL’s)place to ours.
Once on-site, and in consultation with my brother who is much more realistic about such things, we realized that the last part of our laneway (leading right down to the cottages) wouldn’t work, as BIL would have to drive smack into the back door of his cottage and down a hill too steep for any rental car to climb. Brother thought there might be run-off issues as well, dribbling into the lake, which is against our vision for the whole place. We instead made the difficult decision to end the laneways at the top of the ridge behind each place, and in future install two nice sets of stairs and pathways down to the cottages. When you visit our cottages, your vision will not be cluttered by unsightly automobiles.
My brother ‘borrowed’ (the guy wasn’t home but you snooze you lose) a super-powered brush cutter, which made short work of the saplings and raspberry bushes covering the first half of the six-acre parcel. He walked the marked laneway and zig-zagged the brush cutter through everything in its path, trees included. Here’s a picture of my brother with the fancy tool, which comes with its own harness (anonymity protected – not everyone likes having their faces plastered on the internets without their permission):
Ours continues down what was once a skidder track for the logging company that selectively cleared the land ages ago, so no major trees were left in our path and it was smooth sailing. We found a clearing – well, we made a clearing – filled with dead birch trees which were promptly removed. It is now a sunny site on a plateau overlooking the lake and what will be our future building site. Here’s a shot of the view from there. The birches will be removed later this summer, in preparation for future cottage-building.
The weather was kind of poopy on Sunday so we took the opportunity to spend a chilly black-fly-free day up at the land clearing for a laneway. Back in the fall we’d purchased a brand new shiny Stihl chainsaw at our local hardware store during a sale, and were starting to feel a bit foolish with a spic-and-span $500 chainsaw sitting in the basement untouched. We recruited my dad and then my brother volunteered and before you know it, we had a real honest-to-goodness work crew.
We’d gone up there a few weekends earlier, when there was still a bit of snow on the ground, and marked with spray paint which trees we wanted to cut. We chose a route that would allow us to carve out one laneway for the two properties, which would branch off at the end in an informal ‘T’ formation from my brother-in-law’s (BIL’s)place to ours.
Once on-site, and in consultation with my brother who is much more realistic about such things, we realized that the last part of our laneway (leading right down to the cottages) wouldn’t work, as BIL would have to drive smack into the back door of his cottage and down a hill too steep for any rental car to climb. Brother thought there might be run-off issues as well, dribbling into the lake, which is against our vision for the whole place. We instead made the difficult decision to end the laneways at the top of the ridge behind each place, and in future install two nice sets of stairs and pathways down to the cottages. When you visit our cottages, your vision will not be cluttered by unsightly automobiles.
My brother ‘borrowed’ (the guy wasn’t home but you snooze you lose) a super-powered brush cutter, which made short work of the saplings and raspberry bushes covering the first half of the six-acre parcel. He walked the marked laneway and zig-zagged the brush cutter through everything in its path, trees included. Here’s a picture of my brother with the fancy tool, which comes with its own harness (anonymity protected – not everyone likes having their faces plastered on the internets without their permission):
He did return the brush cutter at the end of the day.
Once that was cleared out, we could really see the terrain, and found a logical point at which to branch the two laneways apart that was nowhere near our original plan. As it stands now, we have pretty much cleared our own mini-road, which extends about 500 feet before branching off right (for us) and left (for BIL).
Ours continues down what was once a skidder track for the logging company that selectively cleared the land ages ago, so no major trees were left in our path and it was smooth sailing. We found a clearing – well, we made a clearing – filled with dead birch trees which were promptly removed. It is now a sunny site on a plateau overlooking the lake and what will be our future building site. Here’s a shot of the view from there. The birches will be removed later this summer, in preparation for future cottage-building.
BIL’s laneway ends rather abruptly, so we cleared a little area for cars to turn around and park right nearby. He will have to build a path and a short set of stairs leading down to his cottage, which my brother claims he wants to build right into the hillside. Easy.
When we were done, the neighbor (Ted) came by on his ATV to check it out, and we chit-chatted with him for a bit. Thank god he’s lovely. He and his friends have noisy toys, but if you can’t beat ‘em, you may as well join ‘em. I’m sure BIL will get himself a dirtbike in no time flat and hubby’s already told me he is absolutely going to buy an ATV someday. I can’t complain – I love me an ATV.
Then yesterday I spent a blackfly-filled day gardening and installing my new backyard squash garden. I had a temper tantrum and was going to quit when my parents came over and helped me over the hump. I am off to buy more dirt tonight – sucker’s bigger than I’d planned. I am also planning to buy myself that long-coveted pear tree this evening, so I’m pretty excited. It doesn’t take much.
I also dug in the terracotta flue liners that hubby and I found in a pile of garbage near the fertility clinic. Ha, at least something good has come of it. I will plant these up with a variety of annuals and maybe herbs and I’m sure they will look beautiful for about three weeks, until they become hidden by the monstrosities growing beside them. I always forget how big things get in the garden.
Rosie supervised.
Also this weekend I planted potatoes, cilantro, and some more bulbs in a planter by the front steps. I moved my huge terracotta containers into position on the deck but left them near the stairs, since I know they’ll have to be removed when we tear the deck off.
It was a good weekend’s work, though I didn’t touch the trailer. Sigh. Next weekend’s the Great Glebe Garage Sale, and on my list of things to look for this year are:
- more terracotta flue liners
- retro books on cottage, deck, or outdoor furniture building projects
- board games to leave in the trailer
- dishes for the trailer (metal or plastic)
- vintage tins and bottles i.e. future cottage décor
- a large enamel milking bowl with a red rim, with no rust
- galvanized buckets and things to put plants in
- weird ceramic forest animals (squirrels, bears, birds) from the 50s and earlier
As usual I will report back on our findings. Hubby is expecting a big haul this year, though I’m not sure how he can predict these things. I am going to wager that he comes back with at least one electric motor and some esoteric fishing thing that he will never use. I love the Great Glebe Garage Sale.
5/13/09
Satisfaction
Hubby mowed the lawn last night and I have to say it: it doesn’t take much to make me the happiest woman around.
When I was young I was kind of a bit on the edgy side; there were moments of wardrobe craziness, I used to dye my hair black (woo) and clomped around in army boots for awhile. I had a bunch of holes in my ears. These days that’s nothing, but back in 1992 I was pretty weird for my town. I never really imagined the way that my life would turn out. To be fair, I didn’t ever have a clear picture of where I wanted to be in 10, 15, 20 years, or what I wanted to do when I grew up. I knew what I didn’t want, but was fuzzy on the other details. I knew I liked to draw, I loved rock music and boys with long hair and animals and fashion magazines. What 16 year old kid doesn’t?
I sort of always imagined myself wearing black a lot, being really stylish, having kids, and maybe being an art dealer. Everyone in art history class wanted to be an art dealer.
Here I sit, 33 years old, in a wardrobe that’s getting progressively better-made yet more boring-looking, hair that looks vaguely like it belongs to a soccer mom, comfortable shoes (OK black Converse sneakers, but still. Heels? Not usually). I live in the country, 3 minutes from my parents, in a house that’s one year younger than I am but has aged less gracefully. I have a lovely husband, we have been together for 11 years and we had a beautiful wedding, and he is also settling into middle age comfortably (a recent quote: “I can’t understand how I’m getting so FAT with all this dog walking!” My response? “you’re 37 dear.” Was that supportive?). We have no kids, which I couldn’t predict and has thrown us for a loop, but even that is okay most days. I have a great set of European in-laws and a nephew, and my own brother has turned into a real man and found himself a heckuva nice lady too.
I live in a neighborhood filled with lovely people who are around our age and a bunch of nice dogs and cats. On Saturday, the big excitement was being invited to a neighbor’s house for game night with other neighbors. We had a blast and walked home at 11:30. I made dip. I take a pottery class also within walking distance, and my good good friend from a long time ago is moving in to the house behind me. I have what’s considered a ‘nice neighborhood’, filled with nice people.
My job is wonderful. I have a dream job. I’m not an art dealer but I’m pretty close, and I have a great health plan. I am downtown every day and sometimes I go to the Chinese grocery to buy my frozen squid and my fish sauce. Best of both worlds.
So this morning when I walked out onto the deck I took a moment to inhale. The grass is evenly clipped and fresh-smelling, and at this time of year it makes the garden POP. The tulips were covered in dew and the crocuses are still out, and the apple trees are starting to get teeny little leaves. The birds were chirping their fool heads off, and I made a mental note to fill a feeder tonight for the first hummingbird I saw in the garden on Monday. It’s my mother’s birthday today and as she is my very best friend, I left her a special treat on the kitchen counter, for her to find when she goes to walk Rosie at lunch. I look forward to joining a new doggie play group in my town after work, so Rosie will have the chance to run around and meet new dog-friends, and I remembered to leave meat out of the freezer for dinner. Work is going really well and we’re approaching a long weekend.
In the end, it takes little more than a nicely-mowed lawn to trigger the happy.
When I was young I was kind of a bit on the edgy side; there were moments of wardrobe craziness, I used to dye my hair black (woo) and clomped around in army boots for awhile. I had a bunch of holes in my ears. These days that’s nothing, but back in 1992 I was pretty weird for my town. I never really imagined the way that my life would turn out. To be fair, I didn’t ever have a clear picture of where I wanted to be in 10, 15, 20 years, or what I wanted to do when I grew up. I knew what I didn’t want, but was fuzzy on the other details. I knew I liked to draw, I loved rock music and boys with long hair and animals and fashion magazines. What 16 year old kid doesn’t?
I sort of always imagined myself wearing black a lot, being really stylish, having kids, and maybe being an art dealer. Everyone in art history class wanted to be an art dealer.
Here I sit, 33 years old, in a wardrobe that’s getting progressively better-made yet more boring-looking, hair that looks vaguely like it belongs to a soccer mom, comfortable shoes (OK black Converse sneakers, but still. Heels? Not usually). I live in the country, 3 minutes from my parents, in a house that’s one year younger than I am but has aged less gracefully. I have a lovely husband, we have been together for 11 years and we had a beautiful wedding, and he is also settling into middle age comfortably (a recent quote: “I can’t understand how I’m getting so FAT with all this dog walking!” My response? “you’re 37 dear.” Was that supportive?). We have no kids, which I couldn’t predict and has thrown us for a loop, but even that is okay most days. I have a great set of European in-laws and a nephew, and my own brother has turned into a real man and found himself a heckuva nice lady too.
I live in a neighborhood filled with lovely people who are around our age and a bunch of nice dogs and cats. On Saturday, the big excitement was being invited to a neighbor’s house for game night with other neighbors. We had a blast and walked home at 11:30. I made dip. I take a pottery class also within walking distance, and my good good friend from a long time ago is moving in to the house behind me. I have what’s considered a ‘nice neighborhood’, filled with nice people.
My job is wonderful. I have a dream job. I’m not an art dealer but I’m pretty close, and I have a great health plan. I am downtown every day and sometimes I go to the Chinese grocery to buy my frozen squid and my fish sauce. Best of both worlds.
So this morning when I walked out onto the deck I took a moment to inhale. The grass is evenly clipped and fresh-smelling, and at this time of year it makes the garden POP. The tulips were covered in dew and the crocuses are still out, and the apple trees are starting to get teeny little leaves. The birds were chirping their fool heads off, and I made a mental note to fill a feeder tonight for the first hummingbird I saw in the garden on Monday. It’s my mother’s birthday today and as she is my very best friend, I left her a special treat on the kitchen counter, for her to find when she goes to walk Rosie at lunch. I look forward to joining a new doggie play group in my town after work, so Rosie will have the chance to run around and meet new dog-friends, and I remembered to leave meat out of the freezer for dinner. Work is going really well and we’re approaching a long weekend.
In the end, it takes little more than a nicely-mowed lawn to trigger the happy.
5/11/09
Progress!
On Saturday I had the opportunity to work on the trailer undistracted by anything – husband, dog, etc. I’d gotten it to a pretty good point by then but everything was still rough, and I had stopped last weekend when the wall I made didn’t fit right. I was on the verge of a tantrum and thought it best to call it a day.
Saturday I calmed myself, went into the trailer, and began to work relatively systematically. I made the wall fit, then affixed it, then cut trim to cover the parts that didn’t fit right. I caulked everything up and made it all smooth before starting onto the next area. I managed to get the trailer to the point where no pink insulation or moldy wood is showing. I swept and vacuumed everything. Behold, the before and after of the front part of the trailer:
Saturday I calmed myself, went into the trailer, and began to work relatively systematically. I made the wall fit, then affixed it, then cut trim to cover the parts that didn’t fit right. I caulked everything up and made it all smooth before starting onto the next area. I managed to get the trailer to the point where no pink insulation or moldy wood is showing. I swept and vacuumed everything. Behold, the before and after of the front part of the trailer:
There’s still some ‘hardscaping’ to be done; I have to build a little cabinet under the window with a hinged lid, which also functions as the seat back, and then I have to install a shelf along the width of the trailer. I also have to rig up my patented (not really) table-bracket system which involves magnets. Fancy eh? Here’s a rough outline of what I have to do to that corner still:
And in the back, I have also made good progress. It’s not totally sealed yet, but that’s mostly because that damn back wall is curved and I can’t find anything to seal the corner. I bought bathtub surround stuff but it all came unglued, so it was a bit of a waste of money.
Behold the work I’ve done so far in the back:
And the work I have yet to do (that thing above the bed structure is a shelf.)
My next steps are: to finish building that stuff at the front of the trailer. To clean the entire thing with bleachy cleaner to kill any remaining mold or other infectious stuff. Fill gaps with wood filler and caulking. Rip off the linoleum from the ‘kitchen backsplash’. (That’s one weekend). Then, I will paint. Paint paint paint. (that’s another weekend). After it’s painted, I will build in the bed frame, install the bed, put in the cushions, put in the table, remove the stove and put in the new countertop. Then I will move on to the bathroom, where I will remove the toilet and install a chemical toilet (another weekend). After that it’s the really fun stuff: the hardware and storage things that I have yet to buy from Ikea (baskets, racks, hooks, shelves, etc). I figure this thing will be ready to move onto our land by July, when we will also finally be done our laneway, we hope. Once it’s up there, I will buy the most industrially-sized tube of silicone caulking I can find, and when it’s in place, I will caulk the living daylights out of it. Water will fall upwards to get away from it, it will be so watertight.
In other progress, I planted 100 onions and some spinach this weekend. I also planted my flower bulbs in the perennial garden, so if the godforsaken squirrels don’t get them, I should have an explosively beautiful garden this year. The grow-op is trucking along, though my tomatoes are a bit of a disappointment. One of the two varieties I grew didn’t produce at all (maybe two sprouted, and they are weenie). The peppers are up, but I suspect that it’s the cayennes and not the red peppers. I always have success with cayennes. I planted kale seeds and they came up, like, the next day, so that should be interesting. Some evening this week I will dedicate an hour to the veggie garden and plant carrots and potatoes.
We have reserved a guy to build our new deck the third or fourth week of June, so that’s pretty exciting, though we’re still undecided as to what we want to do about railings. I have more wood to order, but the cedar decking is sitting by my driveway ready to go. Also, I think next weekend we might dedicate a day to tree-cutting up at our land. It’s the long weekend so maybe we’ll even be able to drum up some assistants.
Things are moving along.
4/23/09
Happy Earth Day
Yesterday was Earth Day, and I celebrated it in a variety of ways.
I am one of three co-Chairs of my workplace’s ‘Green Committee’ and we recently completed a fairly comprehensive environmental audit (with an outside consulting firm) of our operations. It’s the first one my organization’s ever done. Yesterday, Earth Day, we had the opportunity to present the results of our audit to all of our colleagues (about 230 people). Co-Chair #1 went up and introduced the project, gave some background, and passed the mic to Co-Chair #2, who outlined the findings of the audit. Then they gave the floor to me, who was to explain the next steps and communication of the audit results.
I firmly believe that not all people are good at everything. There are a lot of things that I am really really good at: I can knit pretty well, I can cook a mean dinner, I am a pretty competent driver, I walk really well and I can write a list like nobody’s business. However, this means that there are necessarily things that I am not good at. This category includes team sports, juggling, dieting, doing hair, understanding concepts verbally i.e. without drawings, having patience, cooking potatoes and public speaking.
I got up there well enough – made it to the podium without falling or farting or anything* – but things started to go downhill very shortly after I got there. For some reason, about 10 seconds into my presentation, I forgot to breathe. Once I was behind myself by one solid breath, I couldn’t pace any future breaths, and started to breathe too shallowly. My voice started to wobble audibly, and my palms got really sweaty. I tried to pause – everyone in the room was uncomfortable by then – but the problem was still there when I continued. It was physical, but exacerbated by nerves. I think I told everyone I had a cold but I can’t remember. I think I must have blacked out. Anyway, I managed to skip part of my presentation, get the slides screwed up, then tried to back out of the last paragraph by asking Co-Chair #1 to take over for me but he didn’t get my cry for help and refused. I finished it off ok, but it has to have been the most embarrassing moment of my entire career.
People keep coming up to me and asking me if I’m ok. It’s so humiliating. One of my colleagues, an older gentleman who I like very much, told me that once he had to do something similar, and broke down crying. So you see we can’t be good at everything. Happy Earth Day everybody at my work!
When we got home, we took Rosie out for a walk. Up the road, she startled a partridge, which promptly flew into a neighbor’s window and killed itself. My neighbor came out in her cute little flannel penguin pyjamas and pronounced him dead at the scene, and offered it to us. Rosie went mental. She has never actually had her mouth on a freshly-killed anything before, and her wolfy nature came out full scary force. She was thrashing all over the road, yelping and acting the fool, so we took the poor dangly-necked bird home and dispatched it. Hubby stood on its wings and pulled on its feet and it’s really disconcerting how little effort it takes to completely disembowel a partridge. They were meant for eating, apparently. No tools required. We gave Rosie the remains and she went all National Geographic on us in the yard, rolling in it, covering herself with feathers, then after about 45 minutes of playing with the dead thing, she finally ate it all. Crunch crunch, feathers and all. We went on our walk and came home and she promptly barfed up the entire dead bird on the futon. Happy Earth Day everybody!
* Sorry, that was crude, but it’s always a concern. You know.
I am one of three co-Chairs of my workplace’s ‘Green Committee’ and we recently completed a fairly comprehensive environmental audit (with an outside consulting firm) of our operations. It’s the first one my organization’s ever done. Yesterday, Earth Day, we had the opportunity to present the results of our audit to all of our colleagues (about 230 people). Co-Chair #1 went up and introduced the project, gave some background, and passed the mic to Co-Chair #2, who outlined the findings of the audit. Then they gave the floor to me, who was to explain the next steps and communication of the audit results.
I firmly believe that not all people are good at everything. There are a lot of things that I am really really good at: I can knit pretty well, I can cook a mean dinner, I am a pretty competent driver, I walk really well and I can write a list like nobody’s business. However, this means that there are necessarily things that I am not good at. This category includes team sports, juggling, dieting, doing hair, understanding concepts verbally i.e. without drawings, having patience, cooking potatoes and public speaking.
I got up there well enough – made it to the podium without falling or farting or anything* – but things started to go downhill very shortly after I got there. For some reason, about 10 seconds into my presentation, I forgot to breathe. Once I was behind myself by one solid breath, I couldn’t pace any future breaths, and started to breathe too shallowly. My voice started to wobble audibly, and my palms got really sweaty. I tried to pause – everyone in the room was uncomfortable by then – but the problem was still there when I continued. It was physical, but exacerbated by nerves. I think I told everyone I had a cold but I can’t remember. I think I must have blacked out. Anyway, I managed to skip part of my presentation, get the slides screwed up, then tried to back out of the last paragraph by asking Co-Chair #1 to take over for me but he didn’t get my cry for help and refused. I finished it off ok, but it has to have been the most embarrassing moment of my entire career.
People keep coming up to me and asking me if I’m ok. It’s so humiliating. One of my colleagues, an older gentleman who I like very much, told me that once he had to do something similar, and broke down crying. So you see we can’t be good at everything. Happy Earth Day everybody at my work!
When we got home, we took Rosie out for a walk. Up the road, she startled a partridge, which promptly flew into a neighbor’s window and killed itself. My neighbor came out in her cute little flannel penguin pyjamas and pronounced him dead at the scene, and offered it to us. Rosie went mental. She has never actually had her mouth on a freshly-killed anything before, and her wolfy nature came out full scary force. She was thrashing all over the road, yelping and acting the fool, so we took the poor dangly-necked bird home and dispatched it. Hubby stood on its wings and pulled on its feet and it’s really disconcerting how little effort it takes to completely disembowel a partridge. They were meant for eating, apparently. No tools required. We gave Rosie the remains and she went all National Geographic on us in the yard, rolling in it, covering herself with feathers, then after about 45 minutes of playing with the dead thing, she finally ate it all. Crunch crunch, feathers and all. We went on our walk and came home and she promptly barfed up the entire dead bird on the futon. Happy Earth Day everybody!
* Sorry, that was crude, but it’s always a concern. You know.
4/21/09
So about that camper...
The saga of the camper continues.
I found, once I really got into it, that there had been more water damage than I expected in our beloved trailer. Some of it was still wet when I opened up the walls. I ended up having to remove the back walls, the back ceiling, and re-build the wooden inner structure of the walls and back end. The floor was wobbly, so I firmed it up with some 2x4s, and have ended up unscrewing and screwing everything back together. It’s been a challenge.
I am now nearly finished ‘shoring up’ the back end of the trailer. I have yet to screw the outside of the trailer to the new 2x4 on the floor, but that will happen soon.
I am discovering new things every time I go into it. I lifted up the seat bases in the ‘dining room’ and discovered the water tank, filled with black mold. That will be coming out, or cleaned and repurposed as grey water disposal. The trim on all of our cabinets is loose and gappy. Whoever did the last paint job wasn't so careful about avoiding hardware, doorknobs, etc. I discovered that someone had likely run the camper into a tree at some point, and the front end is all crunched in at the back of a cabinet. Water damage followed, so the bottoms of the upper cabinets have to be replaced. I found a little plaque that says “God Bless This Camper.” Indeed.
What do you get for $600?
All of this being said, I am still enthusiastic and my vision for the trailer still stands. I have or will have torn out:
- the bunk bed in the back
- the stove (we will use a coleman – same thing)
- the cushions on the front benches (will replace)
- the countertop
- the linoleum backsplash
- the fluorescent light above the sink
- the toilet (will replace with a chemical toilet)
- the window cranks (replaced)
- the window screens (replaced)
- the mattress at the back (replaced)
- the table (replaced)
- the furnace/air conditioner
- the walls at the back end
- the walls at the front end
- the floor of the cabinets at the front
- and potentially the vinyl flooring, to be replaced with wood-look laminate, of which we have a ton left over from previous projects.
We’ve determined that we don’t need a tap, a flushing toilet, a stove, an air conditioner, electric lights, or anything that requires electricity, propane, or running water. This is pretty much a glorified tent, that you can stand up in and keep stuff in during the week, with a chemical toilet and a place to wash dishes.
I’ve already thrown a bunch of this stuff out, and have purchased many of the supplies needed to get it shipshape. I have a vision. Behold (this is as if you were peeking into the kichen window):
Maybe I’m dreaming in technicolour, but stay tuned.
I found, once I really got into it, that there had been more water damage than I expected in our beloved trailer. Some of it was still wet when I opened up the walls. I ended up having to remove the back walls, the back ceiling, and re-build the wooden inner structure of the walls and back end. The floor was wobbly, so I firmed it up with some 2x4s, and have ended up unscrewing and screwing everything back together. It’s been a challenge.
I am now nearly finished ‘shoring up’ the back end of the trailer. I have yet to screw the outside of the trailer to the new 2x4 on the floor, but that will happen soon.
I am discovering new things every time I go into it. I lifted up the seat bases in the ‘dining room’ and discovered the water tank, filled with black mold. That will be coming out, or cleaned and repurposed as grey water disposal. The trim on all of our cabinets is loose and gappy. Whoever did the last paint job wasn't so careful about avoiding hardware, doorknobs, etc. I discovered that someone had likely run the camper into a tree at some point, and the front end is all crunched in at the back of a cabinet. Water damage followed, so the bottoms of the upper cabinets have to be replaced. I found a little plaque that says “God Bless This Camper.” Indeed.
What do you get for $600?
All of this being said, I am still enthusiastic and my vision for the trailer still stands. I have or will have torn out:
- the bunk bed in the back
- the stove (we will use a coleman – same thing)
- the cushions on the front benches (will replace)
- the countertop
- the linoleum backsplash
- the fluorescent light above the sink
- the toilet (will replace with a chemical toilet)
- the window cranks (replaced)
- the window screens (replaced)
- the mattress at the back (replaced)
- the table (replaced)
- the furnace/air conditioner
- the walls at the back end
- the walls at the front end
- the floor of the cabinets at the front
- and potentially the vinyl flooring, to be replaced with wood-look laminate, of which we have a ton left over from previous projects.
We’ve determined that we don’t need a tap, a flushing toilet, a stove, an air conditioner, electric lights, or anything that requires electricity, propane, or running water. This is pretty much a glorified tent, that you can stand up in and keep stuff in during the week, with a chemical toilet and a place to wash dishes.
I’ve already thrown a bunch of this stuff out, and have purchased many of the supplies needed to get it shipshape. I have a vision. Behold (this is as if you were peeking into the kichen window):
Maybe I’m dreaming in technicolour, but stay tuned.
4/7/09
Springy?
As I write this, snow is pelting past my window at a 45 degree angle. I fear for all of the teeny little perennial nubbins that were popping up in the garden this past weekend, which I uncovered (silly me), all excited that spring had finally arrived. I’m assuming that these early bulbs and perennials (tulips, columbines, crocuses, jacob’s ladder) will survive a couple of days of wet snow but it’s still sad to think of them out there, all soggy and freezing. Boo.
Rosie loves it though, the little freak. I let her out to pee last night and she tore around the snowy yard in a big circle, her back end nearly flying over her front. She loves the snow – and the water. Anything wet and messy.
The seeds in my grow-op are coming up; so far I’ve got a bunch of tomatoes, and I think one basil or some other stringy thing (an errant weed) in the basil cell. Eggplants and peppers aren’t up yet, and neither is tarragon or basil. The tomatoes win the race this year. They’re so tall (and stringy) that I had to remove the cover of the seed-starter. I grew two varieties this year: ‘Winterkeeper’, which I will apparently be able to pick late in the season and keep in my basement into the winter, and ‘Teton de Vénus’, which I bought because I belive it means ‘Venus nipple’. How could I resist?
As for progress made on other projects, so far I’ve been really good at finding people to do stuff for me. I have to nail them down still with regards to specific dates, but I have found an eavestrough/sofit person who charges very little, and a handyman to do all of my heinous jobs, also for very little. This makes me happy. I have a bit of preliminary work and shopping to do but I look forward to coming home and having the work done for me. I am getting so bourgeois and old.
I called a lady who does slipcovers in my area, to see what a couch slipcover would cost me, and nearly snorted my lunch out of my nose when she told me it’d run to about $1,000. I paid $600 for my couch, and it is used primarily by my dog, so I won’t be going that route. Looks like the mother and I are going to have to do it ourselves.
Tile backsplash is done, and it is beautiful. Photos to come (as soon as I tidy up the kitchen).
I have booked a ton of appointments over the course of the next month or so. I will be all caught up and checked out by mid-may. Also, have booked an appointment with the municipality guy for April 30 to discuss permits/allowances/bylaws/regulations for our new land.
Have also collected two cedar logs (free) for my side garden project. More progress will be made on this soon…maybe hubby can practice using our superduper new chainsaw.
And another project that I have not yet mentioned: turning Rosie from a crate dog into a free-in-the-house dog. We left her out of her crate last Friday, and it went swimmingly. We’re trying to get her used to the idea of being mature and responsible, a little bit at a time. So far so good.
Speaking of dogs (when am I not?), we will soon have a new doggie extended family member. My brother-in-law in Austria called us last weekend to tell us to check our email, where we found pictures of their tiny little four-week-old black lab puppy, Dakota. Little Austrian Dakota, who goes home to them on May 3. I am very excited for them, and look forward to hearing their tales of chewed arms, sleepless nights, ruined furniture… good times. Here I was afraid that Rosie was too much for them to take at Christmas time. Guess she wasn’t that bad after all.
Rosie loves it though, the little freak. I let her out to pee last night and she tore around the snowy yard in a big circle, her back end nearly flying over her front. She loves the snow – and the water. Anything wet and messy.
The seeds in my grow-op are coming up; so far I’ve got a bunch of tomatoes, and I think one basil or some other stringy thing (an errant weed) in the basil cell. Eggplants and peppers aren’t up yet, and neither is tarragon or basil. The tomatoes win the race this year. They’re so tall (and stringy) that I had to remove the cover of the seed-starter. I grew two varieties this year: ‘Winterkeeper’, which I will apparently be able to pick late in the season and keep in my basement into the winter, and ‘Teton de Vénus’, which I bought because I belive it means ‘Venus nipple’. How could I resist?
As for progress made on other projects, so far I’ve been really good at finding people to do stuff for me. I have to nail them down still with regards to specific dates, but I have found an eavestrough/sofit person who charges very little, and a handyman to do all of my heinous jobs, also for very little. This makes me happy. I have a bit of preliminary work and shopping to do but I look forward to coming home and having the work done for me. I am getting so bourgeois and old.
I called a lady who does slipcovers in my area, to see what a couch slipcover would cost me, and nearly snorted my lunch out of my nose when she told me it’d run to about $1,000. I paid $600 for my couch, and it is used primarily by my dog, so I won’t be going that route. Looks like the mother and I are going to have to do it ourselves.
Tile backsplash is done, and it is beautiful. Photos to come (as soon as I tidy up the kitchen).
I have booked a ton of appointments over the course of the next month or so. I will be all caught up and checked out by mid-may. Also, have booked an appointment with the municipality guy for April 30 to discuss permits/allowances/bylaws/regulations for our new land.
Have also collected two cedar logs (free) for my side garden project. More progress will be made on this soon…maybe hubby can practice using our superduper new chainsaw.
And another project that I have not yet mentioned: turning Rosie from a crate dog into a free-in-the-house dog. We left her out of her crate last Friday, and it went swimmingly. We’re trying to get her used to the idea of being mature and responsible, a little bit at a time. So far so good.
Speaking of dogs (when am I not?), we will soon have a new doggie extended family member. My brother-in-law in Austria called us last weekend to tell us to check our email, where we found pictures of their tiny little four-week-old black lab puppy, Dakota. Little Austrian Dakota, who goes home to them on May 3. I am very excited for them, and look forward to hearing their tales of chewed arms, sleepless nights, ruined furniture… good times. Here I was afraid that Rosie was too much for them to take at Christmas time. Guess she wasn’t that bad after all.
4/6/09
Camping, updated
I would love to tell you that I am a camper. I would love to be able to talk about the latest high-tech tent I bought at Mountain Equipment Co-op, the fancy little one-burner stove I’ve got for making my coffee in the neat steel percolator I found at a nifty camping store in so-and-so little town. I would love to be able to brag about back-packing into remote locations and setting up shop, pooping in the woods and taking it all back home with me.
Unfortunately, I have to be honest with myself. I live in the country. I have never lived in the city (except for a couple of years there, which I didn’t love as much in practice as I did in theory and during which I did actually like to camp a lot) and have usually had a home where I could see more trees than neighbors. I have never felt the primal need to get ‘out there’ and set up camp, feeling like an explorer, reveling in the hardship. I’m already out there. I don’t like sending my food up a tree. I hate having my legs restricted in sleeping bags that I can’t pull up over my ears. I hate trying to track down that one mosquito who got into the tent. I’ve done it, I’ve enjoyed it, and I’ve got some great memories of really fun camping trips, but when asked the honest question “do you want to go camping?” I would have to say the answer is usually no, I prefer to keep my bed dry and my food close by.
I’m a good camper, too. I can cook a mean dinner on an open fire. I can set up a tent in the dark. I can wash dishes with very little water and very little impact. I do actually like camping on islands (fewer bears, more swimming) and can canoe there and make it downright homey. I don’t even so much mind going to the bathroom over a log. However for some reason, whenever I go camping I have the overarching urge to sleep. I become narcoleptic. Maybe it’s because I’m like 100% relaxed, or maybe it’s because there isn’t much to do but sit around, but all I want to do at all hours of the day is sleep. When I’m awake, I like to drink. I’m usually too cold, or damp, have allergies or sore hips or both, am dirty, or my hair is itchy, so sleeping and drinking distract me from all of that.
When I go camping (and there will be more tent camping in my future, I’m sure), I must have access to the following things at all times:
- un-frigid water to swim in, preferably rocky and clear;
- sunshine, lots of it;
- a toque for sleeping;
- food, lots of it, mostly junky;
- booze, see above, beer for hot afternoons and red wine for cool nights;
- lots of polar fleece clothing;
- many changes of underwear;
- a book or magazine or something to distract me;
- a folding camp chair;
- friends, for variety.
So it ends up being “well for both of us we need the big tent. Then I need something to sleep on. Then my sleeping bag isn’t warm enough so I need a fatter one. Then we need the coleman stove, the cooler, the food bag, the beer, the wine, my backpack, hubby’s backpack, something(s) to sit on, dishsoap, toilet paper, spatulas, forks, knives, salt and pepper, towels, tarps, bungee cords, rope, rain jackets, life jackets, paddles, fishing equipment and I am exhausted just thinking about it.
All this being said, I am about to take camping to a new level. Behold, the camper:
Unfortunately, I have to be honest with myself. I live in the country. I have never lived in the city (except for a couple of years there, which I didn’t love as much in practice as I did in theory and during which I did actually like to camp a lot) and have usually had a home where I could see more trees than neighbors. I have never felt the primal need to get ‘out there’ and set up camp, feeling like an explorer, reveling in the hardship. I’m already out there. I don’t like sending my food up a tree. I hate having my legs restricted in sleeping bags that I can’t pull up over my ears. I hate trying to track down that one mosquito who got into the tent. I’ve done it, I’ve enjoyed it, and I’ve got some great memories of really fun camping trips, but when asked the honest question “do you want to go camping?” I would have to say the answer is usually no, I prefer to keep my bed dry and my food close by.
I’m a good camper, too. I can cook a mean dinner on an open fire. I can set up a tent in the dark. I can wash dishes with very little water and very little impact. I do actually like camping on islands (fewer bears, more swimming) and can canoe there and make it downright homey. I don’t even so much mind going to the bathroom over a log. However for some reason, whenever I go camping I have the overarching urge to sleep. I become narcoleptic. Maybe it’s because I’m like 100% relaxed, or maybe it’s because there isn’t much to do but sit around, but all I want to do at all hours of the day is sleep. When I’m awake, I like to drink. I’m usually too cold, or damp, have allergies or sore hips or both, am dirty, or my hair is itchy, so sleeping and drinking distract me from all of that.
When I go camping (and there will be more tent camping in my future, I’m sure), I must have access to the following things at all times:
- un-frigid water to swim in, preferably rocky and clear;
- sunshine, lots of it;
- a toque for sleeping;
- food, lots of it, mostly junky;
- booze, see above, beer for hot afternoons and red wine for cool nights;
- lots of polar fleece clothing;
- many changes of underwear;
- a book or magazine or something to distract me;
- a folding camp chair;
- friends, for variety.
So it ends up being “well for both of us we need the big tent. Then I need something to sleep on. Then my sleeping bag isn’t warm enough so I need a fatter one. Then we need the coleman stove, the cooler, the food bag, the beer, the wine, my backpack, hubby’s backpack, something(s) to sit on, dishsoap, toilet paper, spatulas, forks, knives, salt and pepper, towels, tarps, bungee cords, rope, rain jackets, life jackets, paddles, fishing equipment and I am exhausted just thinking about it.
All this being said, I am about to take camping to a new level. Behold, the camper:
(not our picture or our stuff)This little puppy was found on a local used-stuff website, and we got it for only $600. It will be placed permanently on our piece of land, at the lake, and will be our ‘summer home’ until we have a cottage built, in futuretimes.
I have big plans for this camper. There was a feature in Domino magazine (R.I.P.) called ‘can this outfit be made into a room’ or somesuch nonsense, and for this camper project, it will be Genny’s design challenge: Can This Room Be Made Into A Camper?
(a terrible picture of what is actually quite a nice room)
Our new little acquisition will be completely gutted, its fittings replaced with new ones, a wider bed, better storage, sleeker accessories, a comfy seating area, nice flooring, a decent (chemical) toilet, a deck, patio furniture, BBQ, and outdoor lighting. We have zero power up at our land save for what can be powered by propane and solar panels, so living in there will be a challenge, aimed at readying us for our eventual off-grid cottage. It has to be comfy, dry, well-ventilated, spacious, and Rosie-fied (i.e. easy to clean). I will paint the interiors, build a new and spacious table, make nice foam cushions for the seating area, buy all new plush bedding, get baskets for our stuff (Scrabble, first-aid kit, blankets, etc), and install laminate wood-look flooring. And decorate. I’m going to leave the outside looking shabby, and make the inside sleek, elegant, and cozy. The deck will be built out of our former deck at home (once it becomes the former deck) and my dad built us some lovely compact patio furniture. I bought exterior solar lights at Ikea (they have a lot of solar-powered stuff for summer!) and look forward to stocking the kitchen with finds from the Great Glebe Garage Sale.
I am really looking forward to CAMPING in my CAMPER this summer. I may never be satisfied with a tent again!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)