On Writing

The French Immersion teachers had a PD day on writing at the end of November.  One of the presenters referenced a quote that he had recently read on writing; how the best part of writing is discovering what you didn't know you knew.  It's a feeling that I love; rereading a text and realizing, wow, so that's how I saw it.  

Writing tells a lot about a person, as does a painting, a photo taken.  A professor from Tennessee (don't know him from a hole in the wall, but blessed Google pulled him up) posted some of these quotes on writing on his website:

E. M. Forster: How do I know what I think until I see what I say?

Robert Frost: For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn't know I knew. . . . I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.

Denise Levertov: Writing poetry is a process of discovery. . . you can smell the poem before you see it. . . . Like some animal.

Adrienne Rich: Poems are like dreams; you put into them what you don't know you know.

Edward Albee: Writing has got to be an act of discovery. . . . I write to find out what I'm thinking about.

Thoughts that make me smile.

Therapy

I am a Pinner.  I wonder if there's a double-meaning in there?  In any case, I've got boards on the go on the Pinterest website...this pin came up today (logo originally from a shirt).  It's going out to all of you who need therapy.  I mean gardening.

Closer to the end than to the beginning

We are going to be working on the "finishing touches" for a while (no time-line), but as Steve so aptly put it, we are officially closer to the end than to the beginning.  So here's some shots for all of you out-of-towners...which is most of you.

Office/ Crafts Room/ Twin-Bed Empire

Old kitchen pantry given a few stinky coats of paint 

(the last of the not-friendly stuff that Timbermart was selling)

Chair from Dad's old office, squeaky

Sawhorses I made for our door-desk

And a light fixture, 1 of 3 that we bought, 

that resulted in us gambling with traffic and the gods

on our way home from Toronto.

Laundry and utility room

Old kitchen cabinets put to very good use

My first foray into plank-style farmhouse countertop

(Dad did most of the work)

The ridges make it rustic

(I decided not to plane)

The wood filler keeps the dirt from falling between cracks

Right?

And now, for Steve's Baby:

Oh, how we deliberated on siding.  We wanted some stone, but all applications of it looked forced (as in, why is that plunked there?)  No one wants to spend money on that.  

We eventually came around to a cedar and stucco mix.  Spent a lot of time searching images of "modern" siding (as modern as you can get with the bones of our house, typical peaked roof, etc).  We ended up getting clear tongue-and groove cedar, no v between the boards from Brown and Rutherford, in Winnipeg.  Applied it horizontally in some locations, trimmed windows and doors with it as well (see first and second photos).

The stucco was another major decision in the making.  We wanted it as smoothly applied as possible and considering our house was already wrapped and prepped, our options were limited.  However, our contractor did an amazing job, taking his usual "lace" application and smoothing it out even more.  

The only difficult part about the whole stucco process was choosing the colour.  Once my penchant for white (à la L.A. breeziness or Greece-like pure) was negated, we quickly settled on dark grey.  Yea!  Two weeks later, we still hadn't agreed on that dark grey.  It finally showed up on a paint chip we had brought back from the city months ago when choosing indoor wall colours.  Sico's "Urban Grey".  Go us!

Steve busted his butt on the siding.  Learned all about making 45 degree mitred cuts on wowed boards (hold those babies super tight to the guide.  Clamp them?)  He enlisted a friend for a day or two, but mostly got the cedar up on his days off.

That's it for the house, right now.  We're still working on trim work inside the house, shelving, some plumbing and picking out lighting.  Master bath is not done, but we're going to let someone else play with that!

Sugar honey

Dad sent me this clip, The Real Bears, a couple of days ago.  Makes you think about what's in your fridge, or what you order when you're out for lunch.  Go Jason Mraz, you crooner, you.

Whatsssat?

"Whatsssat?  Whatsssiss?  Ooooh!"

Baby's first words?  There's definitely a mama and dada in there, but those could be attributed to phonological ease and claiming the people most important to her.

So the next runners-up would be "Whatssat?  Whatsssiss?  Oooh!"  Inquisitive baby discovering the world one word at a time.  That's my kind of girl.

Shinrin-yoku

Orchid family?  Newest discovery, July.

Shinrin-yoku, in Japanese, means "forest bathing".

Boosts your well-being and your vitamin D, reduces bullying

got this from Chatelaine.

not yo' mama's magazine.

Well, it's my mama's magazine.

And for a while now, yo, mama, it's been my magazine.

Though slightly ousted by Canadian House and Home (research, bedside), 

Food and Drink, Ricardo, Flavours (meal dreaming, bathroom and Sunday morning planning)

Explore and Saltscapes (destination and adventure ideas, bathroom)

Not to mention blogs.  Oh, the death of papered print!

Baby Blues

Ambrose, we've got you a harmonica dueller.

She's also fluent on the tin whistle.

Milestones



Here are the blueberry picking shots of the season.  Also, this was the beginning of Evelyn's bipedal career.  She is now tearing around the house.  Incentive to put away the piles.  Otherwise, Evelyn walks by the office door happily clutching a screw driver.  Which you take away from her, turn her around and send her off, only to have her cruise by a moment later waving a chisel.



Baby learns quick.  Mom and dad, not so much.

Beautiful

Pre-weekend bush walk. 

Can we talk about the outfit?  Toque from Jen.  E.V. keeps pulling the wool strands out of the pompom.  Jacket passed on from Sydney.  Too frickin' cute.  Fuzzy kitty sweater from Grandma, first worn by Mom.  Felted magic mushroom booties, leather soled, from Sara, made by Jess.  Comfy even just pulling them on.

Summer highlights, so far (as recalled by my camera)

 Swinging at Tyson

A new way to laugh

Apparently, babies like that free-fall feeling:

The moment where they have lost control

Are suspended in the air

But then are securely brought back to earth

To arms.

That's why baby tossing is approved.

 Scrambling up the Shield

Hot rock, searching for finger and toe holds.

Exhilerating at the top

And then the question:

How do we get down?

This cliff is bigger than it appears.

 Pique-nique sur les Plaines d'Abraham

First tastes of terrine, pate and many things good and French.

Bill Murray's nemesis x 2, the groundhog, a curious observer.

 Cirque du soleil sous le pont a Quebec

Surreal dream come true

Bouncing baby, booming beats.

 Explorer au bord du littoral du fleuve St-Laurent

First ocean swims and dunks.

Daily practice.

 Experiences en ravioli aux pates-maison dans le presbytere

A rosee sauce (peux-tu m'envoyer la recette, Annie-Claude?) and pasta

that we'll make thinner and less sticky next time round.

 Savourer les vues, le vent et l'amitie sur les Appalaches

And more seafood.  Daily seafood.

Cockles and mussels, crabs and fish.

Sandscrubs and castles on Lawrencetown Beach

Blue-lipped baby warmed by towels, hugs

and aunts and grandmas who can't get enough of her.

The kimono, Jess, has been invaluable. 

Everyone needs a kimono come summertime.

Birthday Girl

Part of the sisterhood, rah rah rah.

Evelyn is one years old and adored.  Not a bad gig for a little girl.  The eve of her first birthday (well, First Birthday minus a fortnight: Clearwater Lake) marked her introduction to chocolate cake in teddy-bear form.  This was followed by banana cream pie (First Birthday minus 6 days: Mumma's Camp, Tyson Lake, Killarney Provincial Park, ON), icecream and cupcakes (First Birthday minus 3 days: Pattiboo Point, Lake Clear, Ottawa Valley, ON) gelato au caramel a la fleur de sel (First birthday: la rue St-Jean, Quebec City, QC) and then Trevor, the chicken cake (First Birthday plus 9 days: Lawrencetown, NS).  Her birth has been much celebrated.  I think she now knows that if she's stripped to her diaper before being seated at the table, good things are coming her way.  Sounds about right to me.

House updates

New cabinets view, ohne dead soldiers.

Beer cans aren't used for staging, right?

Answers to commonly asked questions:

1. The upper cabinets are being left open, but will have glass-fronted doors.  We've got a lot of cabinet and need some air!
2. The peninsula is staying at that angle, needs to be finished with a raised bar on the backside.  What you see of it right now will house the kitchen sink, the better to do dishes by, my dear.  There's a dishwasher in the works, something I've never had my entire life, so I'm interested to see how our clean dishes supply holds out.
3. That is a side-by-side fridge and freezer combo.  We were surprised by how big they turned out to be, but we are slightly in love.  Especially when we don't have to dig through the chest freezer, bent at the waist, legs waving in the air.  Even more when we don't have to do that in the garage at minus -30 degrees Celcius.
4. Celcius hasn't always been the modus operindi in Canada.  Fahrenheit, inches and miles used to be the way it was.  Funny, I thought we were always off-kilter, not just given that little nudge of encouragement from Pierre Trudeau.  Something to add to my Pierre Trudeau basket of knowledge.  I will tuck that in next to the rose he wore in his lapel.
5. Countertops are next on the list.  Backsplash will need to be done, but that may be moving to the backburner.  Time to play with all of the materials and supplies we have stored in our garage.  Tick away at jobs we can do without maxing out a line of credit and, in the meantime, clear up some parking space for winter.

picture coming...once I get home. 

Insert Arabian (K)night here.

The light fixture is a wired-for-electrical Moroccan lantern.  Kijiji was my friend this time round and not just a time waster.  Watch your head.  That thing has a nasty point to it that is just perfect for a 5'6 and 3/4" girl.

This is the "reading nook".  Window seat, book shelves, arm chair and side table are floating around in the idea bank.  Turning on this light helps the dreaming process, if not the actual lighting situation.

this is the house that Jack built

Enter!  To Steve's Baby Sh*t Yellow and Meaghan's Mustard Dreams.

Dining area, pre-flooring.  Portobello and Wild Mushroom walls.

Steve and Eric, doin' it right.

Tribal, um, dreams, in the bedroom.

Hardwood laid, makeshift kitchen #?

The most organized she'll ever be.

Wild morning

Setting the scene

This morning started off with a thundershower.  Which always brings to mind a favourite opening quote from A Wrinkle in Time, by Madelaine L'Engle:

"Wild nights are my glory!"

- Mrs. Whatsit

From our windows.  Picture perfect.

Lighting forked, thunder rumbled, the lake is looking positively Caribbean, the trees, technicolour.  Saturated.  I think I've used these words before to set the scene, but they work best.  Picture the light right after it's rained.

Shot for Sara.  Remember this beauty?  And the tea in Mumbai?  My mother went a-travelling, said, "What shall you have me bring?" (Thanks to Barbara Reid and Gifts)

And the magical, mossy rug that got away...

Eleven, the First

For Grandma and Grandpa.  I know, it's been too long.

Springtime always brings a tulip shot, ever since Wardlaw Avenue and the Safeway bouquets.  Now, there's an added feature. 

This girl reads, and not just eats (talk about "dog-eared"), her books.  She comes by it honestly.  She likes to turn pages! 

Evelyn and Daddy at the art show.  Steve placed first with his nature shot of leaves in the the water.  The trails behind our house are full inspiration for him.  Have baby, have dog, have camera, will hike.

Evelyn's jean jumper has been retired.  Fortunately, the tights were ruffle-bummed.

Perspective

"Sometimes I go about pitying myself
And all the while I am being carried across the sky
By beautiful clouds."

                    -- Ojibway saying

Elementary

The Hat: Prologue.
Jord lost his hat on the Easterville Highway.  The sasquatch is going to be well outfitted come the end of this winter.  (RIP Steve's jacket)  So off to Mitchell Fabric's we went and bought some tweed and buckram.  A deer-stalking we will go, my dear Watson.

The Hat: Take One.
Found a pattern on the Internet for a deer-stalking hat.  The reviews said it fit small, though, as in, "It fit my dog."  Decided, seeing as the Dunnigan's have mammoth noggins, that I'd have to make my own.  Based it off of dad's felt and fur hat.

The pattern was slightly asymmetrical.  I thought the seam allowances would hide that.  Oh, ignorance. Oh, sloth.

Steve was on fabric-cutting detail as I basted bits together.  Metamorphosis from bullet-shaped pieces of fabric to elfish cap to the elementary version of Sherlock's chapeau.  Thought I'd finish this in a night, get it to Jord on time for his birthday.  Hah.

The Hat:  Take Two.
Put the lining, flaps and outside together, turned inside out and sewed around.  2 broken sewing machine needles resulted in what Steve called a mumu (moomoo?) hat.  I got rather pissed off at him for that.  Dad tried it on and said, "That's a lot of hat."  Which made me realize that I had indeed created a mumu hat.  Quit for the night.

The Hat: Take Three.
Take Three has involved chopping an inch off the base.  Things are fitting much nicer.  I am not pissed off at anyone, anymore.  Just swearing at the machine.  2 more broken sewing machine needles.  And the ear flaps and brims never seem quite straight.  Mom is giggling and advising me to stop for the night.

Jord should get this birthday hat in time for the next snow.  Then he can skulk around the city in the style he favours once more.

The Hat: Take Four.
Hand-sewed to finish the job.  Said screw you to redoing the whole thing.  Instead, picked out select seams, used some whip stitch, admired how tweed is such a camouflaging fabric when it comes to hiding stitches.  Had a heck of a time deciding what was front and what was back.  Consulted husband and father.  Sealed the deal with a personalized monogram in orange in the interior.

This photo makes the hat look great.  Which it is (up-talk).  Hat-making is not easy.  But not impossible, either.  I was not a hat-maker in a previous life.  Maybe, though, I was a young apprentice who got knocked off before I truly began to shine.  Because I was having a love affair with the hat-maker's daughter, or wife.  But the hat maker was an old and cruel man that mistreated everyone in his life and now no one is happy.

I have lots of tweed left.  2 different fabrics, in fact.  Deer-stalker 2 in the future?  The thing is, if there's no deadline, it doesn't seem to get done (hello, quilt).  Maybe I need a sewing buddy.

I'm sexy and I know it.

Funny.  After writing my review of Diana Gabaldon's Drums of Autumn, I read an article she wrote for February's Chatelaine.  It was about writing sex scenes.  Her term (or perhaps simply the term she used) for some of her "thunderous" sex scenes?  Poetic lyricism.

Right from the author's mouth.  Makes it seem more legit.  I found it funny that she recognizes how much her sex scenes sell her books.  And validated that I was able to identify it, as well.  Gold star* for me!

*Gretchen Rubin, author of my latest read, likes her gold stars and validation.

Some people don't go for the sex scenes, though.  Take Grandma.  During mom's latest conversation with her, grandma pish-poshed the latest audio book she was listening to.  "These books have changed!  What does an old lady like me need such sexy stories for?"

The moral?  Get the sex while the getting is good.

this city, my city

Sara just sent a link to a Trapper's Flash Mob.  A heritage moment, she says.  No doubt!  Those fur queens (and hockey players, snow shovelers, Trapper's Committee members and car dealership workers) have rhythm!

Let's see if The Pas can go viral.  Oh wait, I have to be more accessible for that to happen.

Hear, read, see, speak

Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words. - Goethe


Song: Somebody That I Used to Know - Gotye
Poem: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - Kate Toms
Exquisite Picture: the dragon painted by Dan à la native art style (thick black outline, bold colours, curled body, inlaid layered patterns)
Sensible Words: If you say you're going to do it, then do it.

so what have you been up to?

Baby, cooking, baking, reading, researching, meetings, visiting, packing, planning, scheming...

And when my brain is on overdrive and I'm frazzled and full of tics; skiing.

Cause I get to the point where I need to get out of the house, get away from others, get out of my head and just BE.  Physically and mentally zoning out.  Ommmmmmmmm.

Cheesy, sure, but partway through that ski, the rhythm takes over and the only things I am aware of are

the push of my ski against the snow
crunch and glide underfoot
the shift of my weight
side to another
body, tired and warm
hot breath dampens cold cheeks and lips
sky blue, grey, ground white
shadows streak, jackpines knot
wobble
thrill
I speed down the hill

Saturday night poetry thanks to Copper Moon and Sleeping Girl.

the measure of a house

This is life with renovations.  

Strip it back and then put it back together, piece by piece, to make it better than before.  I like the bare bones of it.  I like knowing what my house is made of.

Insulated, sealed, electrified, we're ready to go.  For drywalling.  Somebody else's mess, starting Tuesday.

Way to go, us.

Secret Message

L'enfant qui ne joue pas n'est pas un enfant, mais l'homme qui ne joue pas a perdu l'enfant qui vivait en lui.  -Pablo Neruba  (secret message left on Tamsin's car at the ski trail entrance)

I think this quote could go hand in hand with the Right to Play movement.  Not only is it our right, it should be a responsibility.  If not, there'd be too many sad people in this world.  All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.  Giving yourself time to play is allowing the creative beast in you to be unleashed.  Not to mention renewal and stress relief.

Crash!

Crash the concert.  If that's what will liven up your life on a Saturday night, if you are in need of some soul-lifting sounds to fill your ears, stories and harmonies to give you tingles, crash the concert.  Sometimes "sold out" isn't the answer.  Neither is "no".  This little adventure is made possible when you have a giggly cohort (thanks, Jen).

The concert in question was "The Once", a newfie traditional/folk group that is up for a Juno this year.  Steve said, "Yeah, but so was Nickelback."  I tried that line out on a fellow concert go-er, but they didn't find it witty.  Some people...

Waldkind

Smarter, somethinger and somethinger, that's what they say when you bring your kid up in the great outdoors.  Nevermind Waldkindergarten, try Wald-childhood.

Spot the three generations.

Quite the workout.

Baby Blog

Solids begun!  Jess's bibs and Court's Bunnykins dishes are put to use, as is our Phil and Ted's MeToo Chair.  Beautiful, fun and functional.

When I was in Sioux Lookout, cousin Davin peeks over my shoulder as I'm adding a post and says, "Ooh, baby blog."  Baby blog?  I guess I can't deny it.  It's not meant to be solely that, more a place for all of my musings and discoveries, but the fact is, most of those center around baby right now.  And that's ok.  I mean, when has Bims ever been so fascinating?

dance

What to do when a baby is fussy?  You could follow the advice of "The Happiest Baby on the Block" and go through the 5 S's (Swaddle, Shush, Swing, Sideways, Suckle), or you could just revert to the tried and tested dance 'til you can't dance no more, get up, get on the dance floor, now dance.

Nose crinkle for Aunty Dez included.

A Martha-Ricardo Moment

Here's some light, bright winter warmth for you: ginger.  Wake up your mouth, warm up your throat, open your eyes and clear out your nose.  Ginger-lemon tea, hot, fresh ginger-honey-lemon drink (slice, squeeze, squeeze), Creamy tomato coconut soup.  The soup is courtesy of some magazine ripping that I had stashed for who-knows-how-long in the "To try" pile.  It has been made a couple of times now, slightly altered and needs to move into the recipe binder.  Until then, it will sit in the "To do, To file" basket.  My method and madness are now exposed for everyone to see.  A creative A-type I am, in this instance.

Creamy Tomato Coconut Soup
2 cups tomato sauce
1 14 oz can coconut milk
1.5 cups water
2 tsp chicken or veggie broth
4 slices fresh ginger
1 garlic clove, sliced

• Mix above ingredients in pot.  Bring to boil over medium heat, then simmer.
• Add:

1 cup cauliflower flowerets

1 pepper, choose your colour, thinly sliced

1 cup grilled chicken, thinly sliced.

• Let simmer 'til veggies reach desired consistency.  Bit of crunch is best.  8-10 minutes?
• Can top with some fresh, chopped cilantro when it's time to eat.

Evelyn has been sleeping for the past hour.  Hence, I have time to clean out my email Inbox and to write about soup.  If we were at home, I'd have to do the dishes.  There are advantages to not having the Internet at your house after all.

and the important thing is

I read a passage that I really liked in "Still Alice".  Alice was asking her daughter about her new boyfriend.  The questions were as follows":

1. What's he like?  (notice it's not "What's he do?")
2. What's he like with you? (concern for child)
3. (and, my personal favourite and the reason I am writing this) What are you like with him?

To the final question, the daughter thinks, smiles and answers, "Myself."

That seems to me to be the most important thing, the factor that determines whether a relationship will work or not, whether you will be happy or not.  Are you yourself when you are with your partner?  I think back to some early relationships where I was drooling over a guy, embarrassed to reveal everything about myself because I thought I wasn't cool enough or would come up lacking.  But I got lucky (ode to Steve).  I can really answer "myself" to that question.  Stubborn, passionate, hesitant, careful, impetuous, cheesy, thoughtful...I got a guy who wants (or who'll take) it all.

What are you like with him?  I was able to answer that easily, for which I'm grateful.

neurons firing

imprinting memories

Christmas at 5 months means:

• wonder at the lights on the tree.  Time to stare.  Slow down and stare.
• a fascination with crinkly paper
• fancy dresses and shirts supplied by mummas, grandmas and aunties.  More joy for the adults than for the child!
• being able to foot-paint before bathtime
• having grandpa and grandma carefully save foot-printed gift wrap so that they can frame it