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.