Wednesdays at One

01-01-2012

2012-01-01T16:07:00.003-08:00

Down to a soupbowl of turkey, no stuffing, enough gravy to do one more meal. Random pieces of baking need to be attractively arranged on the Christmas goodies plate that should take care of the rest of the first-footers who are already hours too late but we'd be glad of their company if only to get the shortbreads theSamHill out of here on someone else's hips and thighs.

No snow here - good thing as The Jrs were only one this year and he was here for one sleep before heading back to The Big Smoke and The Job and The Friends Who Are (Thanks Be) Not His Family. We miss him and we miss Freddy-the-Dawg who is eggzackly the right height to clean off the sideboard and the kitchen counters. As F-t-D is well-mannered and as we are used to dogs and vigilance, all was well until some gumball put the bacon paper in the garbage can and left the kitchen. Sadly, as F-t-D was borrowed, he could not be left to enjoy the delights of stolen bacon dripping unlike dogs who have lived in this house and either developed digestive tracts of prodigious capabilities or croaked.

A closet is sorted which resulted in burning my late brother's bank statements. He's been gone 14 years.

Heading home tomorrow to have a pitch through my own closets.

Still breathing.

His Sister's Wedding Gravel

2011-07-20T18:30:00.003-07:00

In my driveway this evening there are 4 yards of mixed gravel chippings and 4 yards of dark mulch. In my driveway tomorrow morning there will be one son and one bobcat (mechanical version) having a lot of fun. The son is here for a few days, the bobcat for only one. There are plans involving chippings and mulch and rock moving. Rakes and shovels have been requested.

I'm not sure whether to stick around tomorrow or not.

Maybe I could get excused to finish painting the Wedding Deck and planting the Wedding Rockery?

Still breathing

Late Spring

2011-06-14T20:45:00.003-07:00

It has been a cold and rainy couple of months - right back to when it stopped being cold and snowy.

The lake is at full pool and there is still a schwackload of melt to come down. We haven't had to move the boats up but we have put one set of blocks under the stretchers and the coach-boat is hauled further up every day. The last time the lake was this high, the old bridge was still across the lake and the cables anchoring the floating part actually had to be lengthened. It was some odd bumping up rather than down. The Sr Boy was working in town and he would provide daily reports at the supper table of the number of wharves newly weighted down with barrels full of water. Sump pumps were considered reasonable Fathers' Day gifts.

I, for one, am not unhappy about this long wet season. The gully is a swale of grasses that come up to my chest and from last year's new deck, I can see where the deer have trailed through and the quail babies have a place safe from the neighbourhood cats. It also means that my slothfulness at getting the planter boxes and buckets planted is not the disaster it could have been: everything is now in and enjoying the cool settling. The two basil plants from the market turned out to be six so now I'm waiting for basil, feta, and tomato salad (but not holding my breath).

Next up is re-filling (and re-filling and re-filling) the green bin. The three I filled this week (mine + 2 neighbours') barely made a dint in the pine needles and the lot below me is a wildfire waiting to happen as its owner doesn't believe in disturbing nature. (She'll be some disturbed if it goes up in smoke and I'll be somewhat more than that!) Seriously considering 'getting someone in' - preferably someone with a big pick-up and a good raking ethic. The Jr Boy was here yesterday with a friend and an empty utility trailer to pick up a bike. Unfortunately, they had a tight time-frame and it didn't include a trip to the dump with a load of yard refuse. Maybe I could get the local fire guys to come over for a practice wildfire burn?

Maybe I could simply keep going at it one hour at a time.

Still breathing.

06/06/11

2011-06-06T21:21:00.004-07:00

It's finding a place to hang the wind chime because the carefully crafted screen framework is gone from the south deck (now that I have two new decks, I am reduced to cardinal directions).

It's deciding to scrape and paint the planter boxes even though it is only the paint holding them together because there is no one to build new ones with the same attention to angles and I'm not going to learn how nor buy the necessary equipment this year.

It's the phone calls from friends who notice dates and check in.

It's drinking a lot of soda and tonic instead of gin.

It's staying up too late because the light is longer, later, and the evening air is almost a gossamer embrace.

It's 16 cans to the paint recycling. Which one of us decided that it was ok to hang onto cans of stain rusted shut?

It's thinking/not thinking "five years ago, I was making you a chicken sandwich from the ward frig and I found you some ice cream and apple juice to go with it."

It's trying not to go down.

Still breathing

One more sign

2011-06-03T23:02:00.003-07:00

In the interests of not embarrassing myself (not too much anyway), there are a few pre-summer (and wedding - yikes!) things happening here: to wit: repainting of deck chairs and tables. There are six of the former, two of the latter and all of the Adirondack persuasion. Think: really comfortable wooden chair with armrests wide enough for both G&T and the cryptic crossword that takes me a week to (sometimes) finish. Also think: slats. Lots of slats. There will be a small pause here whilst I go out to the garage and count the slats.......

.........................

15 per chair, 9 per table which works out to 4[(6 x 15) + (2 x 9)] = a lot of fiddly painting (the 4 is because all four sides of the slats have to be done, right?) Of course, it helps that the finish on the chairs is really good (Gr 9 woodwork class, $50.00 each = Total Bargain) and that the tables are so old that they are more or less in pieces which will be put back together but which makes the 4-sidedness a bit more bearable but it is still a lot of slats along with the other essentials such as legs and armrests. The chairs are blue (4) and anotherblue (2) and the tables black. The anotherblue I invented by mixing some wrongblue with the black until it was the rightblue but is maybe really grey.

I've gotten quite organized - I do them back/bottom-side first because there seems to be more of that (do not try to logic me out of this idea - it is working quite well for me thankyouverymuch) and then flip them upright when dry and do the much smaller amount of top.

Flipped the first chair and there was the sign:

there are paint runs.

The Sr Boy would never have had paint runs - and if by chance one sneaked in, it would have been sanded to a faretheewell. Turns out, I am not TSB: I apologized to him, knocked the worst off with the brush handle and painted on.

It's coming up five years.

Funny how some paint runs conflate time and distance.

Still breathing

Shift

2011-06-01T19:16:00.003-07:00

In two months, The Jr Girl will be wed which means that this house will have been turned upsidedown, another new deck built (so the future in-laws don't end up suing me after falling through the old one), all the wooden garden furniture stained, all the pots planted, the driveway raked, AND the shambles that is The Former Front Lawn will either be de-shambled or have become a campground/trailer park (don't tell The Jr Girl about the latter possibility) for various itinerant (hopefully not indigent) guests.

In two months, the whole shebang will be (more or less) done and I will be sitting outside with an XXL G&T reflecting on being a mother-in-law. Or maybe simply laughing over the various inevitable "challenges" that a wedding creates.

The local crow may join me with a few comments on the event but there won't be any cedar waxwings.

They were today - flying like they call - in larrups - and settling and lifting and settling and lifting. They pass through, markers of the late spring shift from winter to summer and warners of imminent snow in the late fall. There was new snow last week on the hills - I hope they aren't confused about which way they are going.

Lots to do.

Still breathing.

Rapture review

2011-05-23T15:23:00.002-07:00

Yesterday morning, the priest, after saying, "Good morning!" added, "As the rapture was supposed to have happened yesterday, and as we are all still here, it would appear that we all have some work to do."

Too bad he is the interim.

Still laughing.

Lots to tell but for the nonce,

Still breathing.

Outta here

2010-11-09T07:13:00.002-08:00

While not really unexpected in November, I can't escape the feeling that I'm getting out of here just in time.

It's snowing.

The snackdragons and basil are not pleased.

Hope the 4.5 yards of freshly spread driveway chippings have settled in nicely before the shovels have to come out.

Six bottles of BC's best in my bags - there is, apparently, no good wine in TO

Still breathing

Shop Vacs Rule

2010-09-27T21:04:00.003-07:00

So because The Jr Boy got An Amazing Job in The Wicked City, relocation was required. He's been "relocated" (living at NFA - thanks be for friends with couches) since the end of August but relocation doesn't mean dealing with The Stuff. This weekend was Stuff Dealing.

I'd thought I was going to escape most of it, having a seminar and all, but the leader of the seminar had some immigration issues and, by the time I got back from the local farmers' market + additional errands, TJB was almost in town and it was Game On at the flat formerly known as his. Here are some things I learned:

1. Feed The Jr Boy. First and then at regular intervals. The Sr Boy was the same and I got into the same sort of trouble by forgetting. Bottomed out blood sugar is not pretty.
2. Funny smells in flats are not a joke. Seems that there is a leak somewhere and TJB is well out of the place.
3. Liquor store boxes rule as cheap packing cases.
4. Check open hours for bottle returns. Clue: Sunday is not an open day so one will have to unload bottles in one's own garage for delivery on Mon/Tues/Wed.
5. Going to the market on packing day is not a waste of time especially when it coughs up a buyer for a futon.
6. My 28 year old built-in vaccuum hose fits a 10 year old house.
7. TJB has an awesome friend complete with flat bed trailer (will be selling the utility trailer imminently as he offered "any time" - silly boy!) and useful sized muscles.

and, last, but not least:

8. Shop Vacs Rule.

I found this out yesterday afternoon after waving TJB au revoir and giving Trout II-the-RAV the fish eye. No rain, no wind, all the junque out, seats slid fully forward and back - and that magic machine simply kept on sucking. JOY!

Still breathing

Yard Work

2010-09-21T20:18:00.003-07:00

There are consequences to building a new deck to replace the Walk of Terror. The grass disappeared under the wheels of bobcats, contractors' trucks, and a supposed load of topsoil fetchingly deposited like a mini-Mt Fuji smack in the middle of the former front lawn. Further, although the load of gravel which the bobcat guy did an awesome job of spreading about on the driveway looked really good, it was too bad about the slope on it. All the water from the past week's rain accumulated into a large pond - migrating geese were circling and preparing to land on it - on the former front lawn. And the bricks along the top of The Great Wall of No Inheritance for The Juniors were placed so that they faced outward towards the gully which made sense when the wall was done but not once the new deck was built - I do not want to look at the backside of textured block when I am walking up to the new deck.

These consequences have had some attention: Mt Fuji is diminished significantly and would have been completely but I ran out of daylight; the front yard is quite a bit more level; and the six 55 pound (holy smoke! I knew they were heavy but I had to look that up to see how heavy) bricks are turned.

I'm just a little tired. A little tired and wishing I had filled and turned on the hot tub.

Still breathing

Best deal of the day

2010-09-20T20:30:00.002-07:00

was the $75.00 I paid the gutter cleaner to do his job. Gutters that are a very long way from the ground on all sides of this house. Gutters that had small clumps of grass growing in them. Gutters that are now cleared out and down which I can hear lovely gurgles of water running.

Joy!

Still breathing

Wedding Socks

2010-09-19T19:17:00.003-07:00

The Wedding of the Year in CR, as previously mentioned, has taken place. As both bride and groom had long-term establishments of their own (none of this living together stuff before marriage for them), it was firmly but politely suggested that presents were not expected. If people couldn't stand that, there was the liquid option: Wine? Sure. Whisky? Of course. I got around this fol-de-rol by having a brainwave about last January and actually acting on it so I was golden. Golden, that is, right up until about three weeks before the wedding when The Groom told me that he was wearing a made-to-measure kilt and The Bride said, "But he needs socks."

I laughed. (I would have laughed and laughed and laughed but it was the day after her whaddayacallit? Stagette?? Bachelorette??? It was 10 women who'd been on a boat for 3 hours leaving 10 empty champagne bottles behind and going on to dinner and further imbibements. I was feeling a touch delicate.) Yes, I knit and yes, I knit socks. Mostly on 2.25cm needles with matching size yarn and mostly while talking on the phone or reading blogs or watching British tv. Kilt Hose. Hahahahahaha!!

I got home and looked up patterns on the magicalness of Ravelry. There are a lot of pretty amazing patterns out there but here's the thing:

The Groom is 6' 4.5" tall and his legs go up to his flipping armpits!

Do you know how many miles of yarn it would take to knit him socks?? Let me put it this way: the fairly simple pattern I looked at suggested about 750 - 800m on 4mm needles. Well, that didn't seem too bad. So, with less than three weeks to go, I cast on some lovely cream wool and started knitting.

The first thing to pay attention to is that one knits an awful lot of hose as a turned over cuff. And then a lot of that is hidden under the cuff being the part of the sock that the cuff is turned over - sort of like knitting twice to get to the starting point. Now I can live with that and I can live with the mounting anxiety that knitting in the round laid flat can raise in one. Let's face it: how big around are your calf muscles? Now divide that in half and lay it flat and see if it doesn't give you pause? I knit and I knit and, by gum, the sock (note the singular) got longer and longer. By ten days before the wedding, even though I had already used up 600m of yarn, it looked like I could maybe make it. Then came the phone call.

"Sorry we haven't gotten back to you about the socks but you haven't started yet, have you?"

Pause: it is here that you need to know that The Bride really is a darling and I love her to bits but she doesn't know much about knitting. After all, she thought I could whomp up a pair of kilt hose in three weeks.

"Actually, I have, and I'm almost done one!" (slight exaggeration there but I was close to the heel and that counts as almost done. Well, I was about 3" from the heel and his foot is 10.5" long after that but it was still more than half-way.)

There was a silence. Then, "What colour are they?" I wonder if this is a trick question. "Because The Groom can get white socks when he picks up the kilt but he really wants green."

Green. Green? Gentle Reader: Take a few minutes and entertain yourself by looking at all the different colours of green you can see just from where you are sitting!!! My mind started to scrabble: I could dye them, right? with KoolAid, right? and get the correct colour the one that would exactly match the one in his kilt which would need to be an exact match because although lovely in so many ways he is a bit of a stickler for things like that, I could do that, right???

So I have one kilt sock mostly made because I am stubborn like that and I decided I needed to make a prototype anyways (most people call it swatching but we all know swatches lie). On their way to the airport, the newlyweds stopped in for a quick visit and The Groom obligingly put on the sock.

It is

too

damn

big!

At least I didn't knit two of them and he didn't have to not wear them for his wedding.

And I'm golden for Christmas knitting - as long as I can figure out what colour green he really wants.

Still breathing

Not even going to apologize

2010-09-18T11:22:00.002-07:00

I've been busy.

Wedding of the Year in Campbell River, BC, has successfully been held despite the lousy weather. Apparently, there are photos of a moose head and several people on bar stools but I'd gone to bed by then. There were heartfelt promises by two people who have some idea of what they're talking about. (I am more and more a fan of second marriages - the vows have some semblance of experience backing the sincerity.) There were kilts (Best overheard kilt moment: "What do you have on under there?" "My sweetie's lipstick!") and bagpipes and champagne (lots which was also enough) and cousins and rock'n'roll floor-clearing jiving and much, much joy. Yah and also HOO!!

Prior to that there was the sudden removal of The Jr Boy to the wilds of the wicked city for The Job of His Dreams. Sudden = 3 weeks from 'oh, what the heck' flingage-in of application to start date. Currently, he is couch-surfing and trying to figure out how to get back here to empty out his flat. I've got dibs on the empties and am charging 10% for everything I can sell for him. Anyone need a futon? a couch? a small carpet? All lightly sat upon.

And now I find myself a true empty nester. While The Jr Girl has been outtahere for several years and The Jr Boy has been living on his own for a couple of years, in my mind it was, hey, he's in town, y'know, and it's not like he was gone to Australia or Kalamazoo or Toronto or Lebanon. This is different - despite the facts that he essentially left town with two suitcases, a computer bag, his work tools, and a full iPod, and that he will come back to sort out his flat, he's gone. Moved. Away. Not Coming Back to Live Here in This House. It's a bit of a facer - on the one hand, I am thrilled beyond words for him on the other, it is really pushing me about Where I Want to Live MyOwnSelf.

I am mostly coping with this new thinking by going to the beer&wine stores and getting boxes. Empty ones! (stop sniggering you there in the back!)

By Christmas, I hope to have nothing in this house that is Someone Else's Stuff. So far, there have been 2 trips to the local thrift store, an overload on garbage day, several funny text/emails ("Do you want...?" "Hell, no, oh wait maybe..."), a call to a local shredding company and 9 boxes of SES packed out to the garage and waiting a trip to the storage locker (which SES pays for) on a day that is not p*ssing rain. (Srsly, September: you are NOT cutting it weatherwise and the local wineries and I would like you to get ON it! Of course, the irony of my kvetching about rain after the last post is not lost on me.)

The big challenge will come when I have to start dealing with My Own Sweet Stuff. Let's see, how many sofas does one small person need??

Still breathing

Getting through

2010-08-01T20:45:00.003-07:00

It's full-on summer here: currently 29 in the house at 2100h, all doors and windows open until the sun gets on them then snapped shut (no A/C for me), sleeping in the basement (and dealing with 2 flights of stairs for a toilet - another post), hand-watering the basket garden, sweating.

And smoke-filled air.

There are over 350 wildfires burning in my province, a thunderstorm went through this afternoon so there will be more by tomorrow morning. The "flup, flup, flup" of local helicopters coming and going sets my teeth on edge. I have three boxes packed but the bikes are still in the basement and there are several things I really need to gather into one place just in case. A general de-junking would make that easier but it has to be done by noon as afternoons are for napping.

Food is boring. Club soda is my new best friend. I can't figure out how to make a double decrease that doesn't have a sloppy-looking stitch in it.

I keep hearing motorcycles that aren't the right one.

How's your summer going?

Still breathing

Further education

2010-07-16T22:07:00.002-07:00

In theory, nothing is wasted if something is learned – someone famous said that and if they didn't, I am now officially famous.

Today's learning is brought to you by the letter B for Basement Bathroom and the letters F and S for Floor and Scraper. Here's the situation: someone, some time ago, put his/her foot through the wall of the basement shower. It was old, ceramic tile, badly set-up in the first place but useable. Foot through wall = not so useable. So, the shower needs replacing. A "plastic" insert should do the trick and I'd be back to having a useable bathroom in the basement. Simple, right?

Umm, no.

It appears that, not only am I having a new shower, I am having a new vanity/sink, some new drywall, aaaannndd a new floor. It's about the floor.

I don't do ladders. The Sr Boy did ladders, I never had to (other than the step ladder to reach the top of the kitchen cabinets – have I mentioned that I am altitudinally challenged?) so they are a mystery and scary. I do do floors. The Upstairs Bathrooms had parquet and I chipped every single piece off with a chisel, a scraper and my very own hammer (given to me by my mum when I moved out on my own back before there was dirt). I've been known to wash floors on my hands and knees (not often but it has happened). The Basement Bathroom had a perfectly good (if outdated aka ugly) lino floor. Perfectly good except for the lack of lino along the edge of the new shower. About 5 inches worth.

The Jr Boy assures me that these days contractors leave stuff in houses: pots of paint (neatly named by room), some tile in case of a rough day with the blow dryer, wall paper, carpet – the Just In Case stuff that is usually needed within the first 3 weeks of moving in. This house didn't come with any of that and, besides of which, it would all be impossible to use being older than The Jr Boy so I'm getting a new floor in the bathroom which means (a) old lino ripped out and (b) Pay Attention Here – the floor scraped of old lino backing and glue.

Not, initially, a big job as it turned out: the Original Floor Layer decided that glue was only necessary along the edges (and a particularly nasty bit behind the toilet – spooky foreshadowing music here) so the lino came up (mostly) a treat. For the backing and glue parts, The Jr Boy had supplied me with a floor scraper which was eleventy-seven times better than the putty knife I had in mind. In fact, it was a purpose-built Floor Scraper with a "don't try to take this on an airplane" scraper blade and a cushioned handle. I went at the floor with alacrity (which is somewhat like Billy-o whoever he was only with more oomph) and, mirabile dictu, the glue and lino backing was lifting with only a bit of grunting ("Dear Officer Krupke" from Westside Story seemed to work well) and a lot of sweat. The bathroom is only about 4' x 6' and I'd done 90% and was moving in to the area around the toilet which is where the OFL had decided needed "something special" and which was giving me a lot of extra upper body work. "Officer Krupke" was not cutting the mustard.

Nor was a break for a refreshing libation.

Nor were the Good Housekeeping Fairies going to come along and finish this. I mosied back downstairs and gave the toilet corner a baleful glare.

Then I looked at the Floor Scraper closely.

Didja know that Floor Scrapers have a right and wrong side??

Really, it's amazing how much I got done.

I'm trying not to think about the G&T time I didn't have on the new deck.

Still breathing

Wildlife Report, Rowing Version

2010-07-14T20:15:00.002-07:00

Genus: Boneheaded Boat Operators Overall appearance: often wearing sunglasses, seldom wearing life preserver, usually only one hand on the wheel because the other has a beverage in it, skin colouration: deep mahogany unless recently arrived in which case various shades of pink to red. As the genus appears to be totally male, researchers wonder how they reproduce themselves. There is a large question as to the necessity of these animals and they are considered in many quarters as one of God(de)'s less satisfactory creations along with ticks, rattlesnakes, and oil company engineers who think deep drilling in the Arctic is "manageable". There are to be several species/subspecies which appear in overlapping habitat and not always cooperatively.

Species: I Don't Need to Have a Human Spotter Because There's Never Anyone Out On the Lake When I Take People Skiing, Subspecies: But I'll Bring the Dog Along Because the Dog Likes Boat Rides.

Species: Oh Look, There's Another Boat, I'll Make Loops Around Them Because I'm Big and Fast, Subspecies: Why Is That Woman Waving At Me With Only One Finger?

Species: I'll Take Off From the Dock at Full Speed So Everyone Will Know I Have Lots of Power, Subspecies: That Boat With All Those Oars Shouldn't Be In My Way

In the interest of survival, further close observations will be forced upon researchers.

I prefer the eagles, ospreys, herons, and especially the mama mallard who showed us what boneheads we were for going out on the water a couple of days ago.
Rowing Rule #153: If Mama Mallard is right beside the rowing shells all fluffed out over her babies, rowing is not advised.

Metre high swells are really, really impressive, especially at the bottom of their troughs.

Still breathing

"Don't worry, Mum..."

2010-06-23T12:06:00.002-07:00

being right up there among the phrases sure to resonate with all you parents out there, this is to advise that,
Yes, the Jr Girl is living and working in TO and
Yes, there was an earthquake there, and
Yes, she did feel it, and
Yes, she is OK, and
Yes, she did what all properly brought-up Jrs do - called her Mum

who said,

"What earthquake??"

My daughter beats CeeBeeCee News yet again.

That is all. Except perhaps for the wildlife sighted several times on the deck. Research shows it may be a bushy-tailed woodrat aka: packrat. These guys are cute as buttons but Not Good For Houses. I am hoping that the arm flapping and deck stomping and observed skedaddling means it was suitably warned off. I don't like traps, can't use a gun, and there's not enough meat for a sandwich nor fur for a tippet on one of those critters.

Still breathing

Four years on

2010-06-04T16:10:00.001-07:00

Last year this time we were recovering from the debacle of the 'murican mediation attempt. Suffice to say it did not go well and, while much is not right/good about our legal system here, mediation as practiced is a true attempt to come to agreement and is not a fishing-for-info trip.

I don't remember two or three years ago this date without going to the calendars but I remember four years ago. Horizon Airlines, one small rucksack with my passport but no pyjamas, several emails and phone calls, The Jr Boy driving me to the airport while I talked with The Sr Boy's surgeon, an immigration officer in Seattle who was kind, the taxi driver in Reno who turned off the meter when he heard where I was going, the silence of midnight in an enormous hospital, The Sr Boy's puzzled blue eyes and his quiet "I'm glad you're here."

I still have the rucksack – I use it to carry files to and from the lawyers' offices. I bought new pjs. I have flown Alaska/Horizon every time I could. The Jr Boy got the same kind immigration officer on his way through two days later. I've renewed my passport and intend to use it for some serious travel when this is all done.

I checked the Alaska/Horizon website today – the lawyer from the states is coming up for depositions next week.

I couldn't get to Reno today if I had to – all the late flights require an overnight somewhere.

Still breathing

“Too Windy”

2010-04-29T12:14:00.002-07:00

It was officially "too windy" to row today but we didn't figure that out until we were actually on the water.

The first clue should have been our 'interesting' getting away between the two docks (Coach acting as coxswain: "Hold on port, row on starboard HARD, NOW!!" which is loosely translatable as "Holy Sh*t and get moving you lot!!") The second might have been that there were no, not one, count'em: ZERO birds (mallards, geese, coots) on the water. And the third clue? Oh, that would be the black line across the lake and the fuzzy white stuff behind it and the speed with which it was bearing down upon us.

The two legs were not too bad and the new Learn to Row student was totally into it. Then it got somewhat exciting: sort of like surfing only without the standing up part. And no wet suits which was the kicker: when the waves were getting hung up in the riggers, breaking into the boat and soaking everyone but the bow and the only person with dry anything (remember the water temperature is still in single digits up here) was me (because my feet are so short that wearing my wellies in the clogs helps my drive), coach decided we were done.

The Learn to Row student figured that was part of a normal row and couldn't understand why we were going in.

Sure hope she's not going to be bored when the water is like silk.

Warmed up

and still breathing

Back at it…

2010-04-11T16:04:00.001-07:00

It has been noted that there has been a dearth of posts about my rowing addiction passion. There is a very good reason for this: no rowing. It has been a long and row-less winter made more difficult by the facts that: (a.) it wasn't my fault and (b.) from late September to today, there were only 34 days that the lake was unrowable. The "not my fault" has to do with previous executive decisions leading to ending of tenancy and consequent moving of all equipment into storage. The placidity of the lake for the winter has to do with Mother Nature listening in while I was going on in August about how much I was looking forward to rowing when the cowardly water-skiers put their machines of infamy boats away and left the lake to sensible people and the wildlife who deserved it.

Today, however, there is Rowing!! After a winter of hard-work and a lot of pieces connecting up, boats and blades are out of storage and rowing was done this morning. Yah! and also HOO!!

There are, of course, a few things that need to be remembered. Things such as

no matter how much I want to, I cannot, by the force of my own will, make the water temperature in the lake in April rise above 3 degrees Celsius
no matter what a good idea it was to give that bag of Wellies to the shoe drive two weeks ago, I should have listened to the still, small voice asking "are you really sure about that pair from New Zealand leaving the premises??"
launching from the beach means feet will be in the lake
while it is not possible to get hypothermia from four 6 second immersions of legs to knees, said 3 deg C certainly gives one an incentive to work on one's boat balance so one doesn't have the full immersion experience.

I found a pair of overlooked Wellies when I got home. With grace, they won't leak.

Roll on Tuesday morning!

Still breathing

Activities: Anaerobic and the Other Kind

2010-03-30T08:36:00.004-07:00

There is another Mant working at my house. I do not pretend to even approach the level of Mant reporting done here, however, this one has been, as they say in Newfoundland: right some busy. The 2x6 is still across the front door but there is a skeleton of a deck out there and it is possible that I will be breaking my Lenten booze-fast with a glass of wine on my new deck on Easter Sunday. Glory be and Hallelujah!!

It has not been without the usual queries/issues but, mirabile dictu, things get resolved when the homeowner is present during the process. Who knew??

There has also been a modicum of personal involvement - nothing that I couldn't have paid for but why pay when one can DIY?? And die is about how I felt after spending 5 hours Sunday afternoon crawling across joists with stain roller in hand. I do not "do" heights. (defn: anything that I will get badly hurt by falling from, solid ground doesn't count.) Both The Jrs got that gene from their father. I can rock climb up no problem but one look between my knees and I'm glued like a limpet to the face. Picture me on joists at 16" centres, about 10' off the ground and then add my own height and my belief that my head is the heaviest part of me (cf. actuality of the weight of me arse) and, furthermore, that were I to start falling, I would somehow slip between the joists without getting caught up. The word for this is "tense" which will explain why I was some challenged to move on Monday.

Today being Tuesday, I'm doing better.

The Mant was impressed with amount I had done.

Stubbornness The Jrs. get from me.

In other news: First running session finished with an acceptable (defn: finished, didn't barf or cry) 5km anchor leg in the local half-marathon relay. All our t-shirts are 10k ones,though, so I guess that sets the next bar.

And next time, my running partner will not be a 6'3", 27 year old, hungover smoker with a stride about 4x as long as mine who has just finished a double breakfast sammie. Hmmmm... on second thoughts, had he been my size, etc. I'd have been left in the dust. As it was, he could run and chat away the kms - easy for him: he could have walked with that stride length and still kept me up to the mark!

Still breathing

Bleedover

2010-03-18T17:50:00.002-07:00

The thing about starting a project is that sometimes one gets bleedover into another one. While The Basement de Poppa has had one load removed (not so one could tell unless one was an active participant), The Basement de Moi (6 hours driving + 1 ferry trip) is still cr*d laden. Fear not, Juniors, (and anyone else who might have had their beady eyes on "stuff") TBdM is still the same.

The Garage, however, is not.

That is all.

Still breathing

ps: Anyone got any use for Wellies size various? I seem to have a garbage bag full....

Poppa's Basement

2010-03-15T17:28:00.003-07:00

I have been Down in The Basement. This will be of no interest to anyone who has not been in my father's basement but for those of you who have, let it be noted that there is one pick-up truck less of Cr*p down there and the re-surfacing of two items of wonderment. To wit:

My grandmother Lizzie's trunk was the repository of all her worldly possessions when she, along with her family, emigrated to Canada from Scotland in March 1912. This trunk went "below" and has her name painted on the lid. It currently houses my grandfather Poppa Joe's WW I uniform (kilt and tunic which The Jr Boy is laying claim to), some of his letters to her from overseas, a lot of photographs of people we don't know, my mother's report cards, and a lot of books including some in French (we are all Anglos). Lizzie died very young (it feels odd calling her my "grandmother" when she was only in her early 30s) and Pops the summer before I was born. The trunk was moved over here in 1963 if the newspapers in it can be believed and my mum, with me hanging over her shoulder, looked in it briefly then. It must have been still too soon for her as it was closed back up and relegated to the corner under the rest of the storage shelves and other stuff too good to throw out such as the cabinet record-player which has been down there since 1966 were stacked in front of it.

In the same corner was Gran's "cabin" trunk although I doubt they were in any cabin. I don't remember ever seeing this but it must have arrived in this house the same time as the big trunk. It, too, has photos and a collection of newspaper clippings (mostly garden so we know where that comes from!) and a small black case which, when opened, turned out to be a presentation "to Lizzie on the occasion of her emigrating to Canada, 3 March 1912" It is her toiletries case all fitted out with bottles and holders for combs and brushes (all gone - probably used up by her magnificent auburn hair). There is a mirror, miraculously intact, and when I opened it, the sense of looking a very long way back surrounded me in the dust of the basement. Four generations of women in my family hold her name; when The Jr Girl is next back this way, I will ask if she wants to have a look in the mirror.

The load of cr*p was delivered to the dump.

The dump is not as entertaining as in the old days when it was a prime place to sight in one's guns on the rats in between watching the human scavengers circling the arriving vehicles in hopes of a major score of old bicycle wheels, slightly cracked dishes or a saucepan that only needed a bit of welding in the bottom to make it as good as new. The new dump has a weigh scale and a Free Store with a sign that reads "Maximum One 15 Minute Visit Per Day" which is better than the one at the old dump that used to read "No Scava Gin" leading my brother to ask in seriousness if other kinds of gin were ok? There are employees who help/supervise if they aren't busy pushing the buttons that make the cardboard compactor go. I kept dad from saving a few "good" things by threatening to leave him at the Store for longer than 15 minutes.

There is more down below. This is going to be an ongoing project. Next up is to get in touch with the 85 year old who moved into a townhouse and asked Dad to store some of his good stuff. The local metal recycler will pick up. Dad's Basement Storage is about to be shut down!!

Still breathing

Maybe 2014??

2010-02-25T15:20:00.003-08:00

Olympic knitting is not for whimps (yes, I know there is an "h" in there: from what word do you think it comes??) The last several days have been Educational but not much towards achieving Olympic Gold in the form of my completed project. If, however, I change my event (that guy did it in Chariots of Fire), I might yet be able to claim success.

Here's what I've learned:

1.) No matter what I thought, knitting the pattern sideways without putting in the actual pattern stitch and without massive re-working of the numbers is Not Possible.
1. a.) No matter that I thought this yarn would look best and make me look taller knit sideways, I Was Wrong (my children are grabbing their smelling salts) and It Looked Like Cr*p.
2.) Deciding to knit "normally" makes the yarn Look Good.
3.) Knitting a cardigan with a 6mm circ and two balls of yarn is, in theory, Possible.
3.a.) In practice, A Pattern Is Required.
3.b.) Also, a 6mm circ Longer Than The One I Own.
4.) Libraries are Wonderful Resources.
5.) Gauge Swatches Lie.
5.a.) A Lot.
5.b.) Or maybe I was Using a 6.5mm Straight to See If I Could Get Gauge.
6.) Not All Yarn Stores Are Open 24/7.
7.) Some yarn store employees have More Patience than others.
7.a.) Also: More Experience, Better Senses of Humour (at least I provide entertainment), and Tape Measures.
8.) I can now do a Long Tail Cast-on.
8.a.) If I change my Olympic event to Learning To Do the LTC-o, I will get a Gold for amount of practice time invested.
9.) Successful (i.e., accurately tensioned) knitting during the Ice Dancing is Not An Optional Element.

At present, I sit with about 9 cm of the 25 - 30 needed before starting the arm scye (told you I was not tall). I figure if I do nothing but knit, I might get to "vest" stage which, considering all the other things I've learned over the past 14 days, I will call Gold.

And I really Need a vest as I have managed to give away/lose every one I owned (well, The Sr Boy owned but I got the use of them due to circumstances beyond our control) over the past year. Yes, A Vest = Gold for me.

Stay tuned and pass the anti-inflammatories.

Still breathing

Olympics: 1; Knitting: 0

2010-02-12T22:03:00.005-08:00

In honour of Day 1 of the Winter Olympics and because of this woman, I am making an Olympic effort on a project for which I have had the resources (but not the will) for some time. The resources are: 2 skeins of lovely Fleece Artist Scotian Silk, 1 pair Brittany 6mm needles and a sideways knit cardigan pattern.

I am usually a knitter of socks on 2.25mm needles upon which (even though they are pretty teeny-tiny) I have cranked out a fair number of pairs over the past five years. In fact, sock knitting kept me from going through the phone lines to the hapless minions on the far end who had to deal with me and The Sr Boy's estate issues (Remember The Eviction? The Socially Challenged B-I-L??) and sock knitting kept me from complete decompensation at last May's mediation hearing. Plain knitting in self-striping yarn is my preferred drug of choice and I'm reasonably good at it.

But it can be a bit of a rut. Where is the Citius, Altius, Fortius in doing what I can (almost) do with my eyes closed??

So, I decided to knit a pattern that looks somewhat as I want it to look in the end except for the fact that they knit it on a circular and I am going to use straights and still alternate yarns (one has to do that with handpainted as it can get weird between skeins - trust me!) AND except for I did knit a swatch of the pattern's pattern and I don't like it so I am knitting it plain. Sort of like Freestyle Skiing: I have similar gear to other participants and I will get down the course, just not necessarily in the same way as everyone else (this is why I knit not during the Summer Olympics: I am not too set up for Synchro Swimming and Running in Lanes).

The idea was to cast on as the Olympics opened. A really good idea and I figured I would have at least half the back worked by the end of the opening ceremonies. I mean: I usually use 2.25mm needles and was going to use 6.0mm needles - even I could figure out that things should move fairly briskly. It would have been totally possible, too, if I hadn't enjoyed wearing(fondling) the yarn skeins so much over the past several months.

Day One Knitting Olympics Wrap-Up: One skein wound up. One skein still looking like a plate of cooked spaghetti. Actual knitting: None.

Maybe this Olympic Knitting is going to be more of a challenge than I expected.

Citius, Altius, Fortius. Evolvius.

Still breathing

Warm feet

2010-02-03T18:30:00.004-08:00

Blog silence (I'll get to the feet part, hold yer horses!!) usually goes with not much going on except last week there was too much going on as I was in the Land of the Lotos aka The Island. Spring was spranging all over: trees were blooming, daffodils were blooming, aconites were blooming, snowdrops were.... well you get the picture. I had dinner at La Piola with dear friends before going home to their place and snuggling down with a hot drink for a lot of late-night conversation. (Friends who have known one for a very long time have a special kind of wisdom.) The next night was another dinner out with Poppa's friends and then there was further eatage and drinkage on Friday at Giovanni's for lunch and Atlas Cafe for dinner as I was taking Poppa to The Ballet and visiting with family just happened to fit in. Somehow, we had to cook for ourselves the last two days but there was another lunch out tucked in there along with further family time.

It rained, of course, and I had to buy new gumboots. As I have a bag of wellies here at home, I was not amused but I cheered up when all I could find in my size were these (sort of) at the local Buckerfields for Buckerfields prices. Yah and Hoo!! They are now resident at Poppa's in 'opes of future rainy visits. They were very handy (?footy?) when we went to the cabin to consider Roofing Options. Apparently, we will first have to consider Access Options as the blackberry vines on the road side are almost as thick as my wrist and the otters have been using the beach side as their personal toiletting facility. Next trip will require serious pruners as well as shovel and rake. The blue tarp is still doing what blue tarps do very well which was a relief.

And now, I'm home and sorting papers and taking bags of Useful But Not To Me stuff to places where such stuff can be used.

The house is quiet again as The Jr Boy has found his own digs and gone there. He has a cozy basement with cold floors so his felt clogs are getting a workout. I thought about taking my new felt ballet flats down there (for when I am invited to visit not for him to wear and also so I wouldn't have to look at my dumarsedness) but they have been turned into bed shoes as the ars-to-Gowry soles make the toes turn up in a most unflattering fashion (as in, too unflattering to consider leaving at TJB's where he would have to look at them!). Bed shoes are what people like me who can get chilblains in the summer wear instead of bed socks. (Actually, I didn't know about bed shoes until I made this pair!!!) To my credit, there is a bit of uncertainty in one part of the pattern but the sole issue was all my own + a bit of this lady's problem (read almost the whole of 29 Jan post). Ah well, at least my feet are warm in bed! And I have enough yarn to make a proper pair for leaving anywhere I please!

Still breathing

St Brigid's Day

2010-02-02T18:18:00.003-08:00

In honour of the patron saint of poets, a bit of me poetry:

Petition

Let scent of violets rise to breath
as cottonwood silk drifts down

Let osprey unfold to wind
as coots and mallards huddle

Let swings be swung, hard-pumped to sky
as new grass stains bared knees and feet

As from all time
as from all time.

Let match's sulphur hang in air
as candles light faces gathered

Let gravel grind glass-sharp edges
as new silence settles in

Let tears rinse ancient ache to softer shadows
as hollowness is named

As from all time
as from all time.

Things to remember

2010-01-26T20:35:00.006-08:00

- make sure there are no vegetarians coming for soup and buns when one has made yummy bean soup with a meaty ham hock;
- just because hours are posted doesn't mean that those will be the hours actually open especially if the city has cut the funding;
- Christmas trees can still look pretty in late January but they will shed needles all over the floor on the way out the door;
- ditto cedar boughs;
- friends offer practical help, others say, "Call me if there's anything... ";
- sometimes putting things in order means making a lot of mess first (sigh);
- it's easier to pack a suitcase with clean clothes if one does the laundry first!!

Still breathing

Hah!

2010-01-24T22:01:00.002-08:00

1. According to CeeBeeCee - our national broadcaster and general purveyor of information and ideas - I am not an eejit. Test the Nation: check it out online if you missed the show.

2. Making a list with estimated time for completion? Total Motivation Tool for me. Of course, my estimates so far are on the under side rather than the over (well, except for #7: dragging stuff out of the frig which should have come out weeks ago - I gave myself 10 minutes but it only took 90 seconds. I used the additional 8.30m to wash the supper dishes and re-write a chapter of War & Peace which wasn't going quite the way I thought it ought to.....) Anyways: #4 is done (est. time: 2h, actual time: 6h but it included a lot of other stuff such as ironing and mending..... Hmmm, maybe I could put those things on the list as separate items and then cross them off?? I need to get out more!)

3. My sewing machine still works - guess vacuuming the collection of gunk out of it and finding the oil and using same was a good idea. Now if I can only figure out how to measure trouser length for myself by myself. (Voice in back of head: Just hem the dang things. Your trouser bottoms are so far away from most people's eyes that they could be held up with duct tape and no one would know. Me: Have you been talking to The Sr Boy??)

Still breathing

Planning ahead

2010-01-23T21:13:00.003-08:00

Do you do this? Go away somewhere and find yourself thinking about what you could/should be doing at home? I do it frequently: come home from away with a Big List and Great Plans. This lasts about until I get my suitcase in the door whereupon I get overwhelmed by the number of things on The List and decide to have a nice cuppa. The List then gets put down and the crossword picked up and another paving stone on the road to H-E-double-hockey-sticks gets laid.

I am going away next week for a few days of early Spring although, except for this morning's hoarfrost,I could just as easily stay here for that. So, early Spring (as in Snowdrops actually blooming and perhaps some diggage of earth), and taking my dad to see the company dance, and checking out the cabin and considering the roofing issue, and generally being Wonder Daughter TM for a few days. All good plans except for the coming home with The List, then the cuppa, the crossword, the cross words, and so on and so on. This time, I decided, Will Be Different.

I already have The List. There are 6 items on it with estimated time for completion beside every one. #1 and #3 are already done (well except for putting a few things back where they belong) est. time: 1.15 h, actual time 2.54 but that was because I was Dunging Out TM in an orderly fashion (Haiti box, Drop-In centre box, rubbish) and some of the action actually overlapped a bit in #2 and #5 so I'm really ahead in those areas, right?

Hmmmm... if this keeps up, I may finish up before I go and have to make another list. Arrggg!!

Still breathing

Fashion statement

2010-01-22T20:20:00.002-08:00

It was one of "those" days: a day when the sun is so bright that sunglasses are really a necessity and not a fashion statement. I tried the clip-ons that I think make me look like a (slightly!!) older Meg Ryan but gave up and dug out my rowing wrap-arounds to cut down on the glare. Except for the no-rowing part, it was a lovely day.

I'm due for new glasses. My Friend Heather-the-optician is not too happy that I've taken to wearing my glasses mostly propped up on the top of my head instead of my nose. She pointed out the other day that the current attractive frames are rising 8 years old and fashions do change. I've been sorry I didn't buy the frames I saw in Venice on The Grand Adventure of '05 - the ones that looked like tree branches. That particular design still hasn't arrived in the True North(perhaps because no one in their right mind who has lived with pitch on their hands would ever consider putting something remotely reminding of same near their eyes)but the colour of my leather jacket finally has. Prepare to see a lot of fucshia (pronounced "foookshya")in the near future. Somehow, I thought with the innerwebs and all that fashion/colour would travel much faster than it did in The Olden Days but the colours that were on all the models/mannequins in Italy in '05 were finally in the stores here (the last outpost of style and fashion for sure) last year. Hey: maybe I could have fookshya frames?? Would have to consider changing my hair colour as the current red might be an unhappy pairing.

Hmmmm.... does this mean it's time for another trip?

Still breathin

Writing Women

2010-01-20T23:08:00.003-08:00

Glory be! The Writing Women came to eat, write, and read and there are now leftovers excellente in the frig. Did you know there is a soup that is Winter Squash and Banana?? My buddy Rhoda did and made it and it was surpassing delish. As were the rice flour olive bread and the spelt flour butter tarts that came from the southern lands. All I had to do was vaccuum (small act of self-respect although I may be stretching it as I don't think the equipment has been used since before Christmas which may explain the funny colour in the corners of the hallway - you know, the new one for BenjiMoore: DustBunnyGray) and make a salad (which was neither dusty nor gray).

As usual, there was a lot to say. We only see one another as a group once a month although there may be meet-ups in between. With an age range from mother of young children to granny of young adults, we cover a lot of decades with concomitant spread in life experiences. And courage: the young'uns amaze the oldies with their brashness and the oldies blow the young'uns away with their strength under fire. We all write fabulous stuff and we all write garbage and we are learning how to tell the difference. Tonight it was poems, short story, and creative non-fiction. I have some editing to do.

But no vaccuuming.

At least, not for another month.

Still breathing

Le sighhhh.....

2010-01-19T23:04:00.003-08:00

In an Act of Arsedness that is extreme even by my lax standards, the soles of Les Slippers of Beauteousness were sewn in bassackwards: i.e., that which should have been to the fore is to the aft and vice versa. This was done not once, but twice, and, furthermore, not noticed (except for that funny little voice that said, "Oh well, it will sort out in the felting") until 2/3rds through said felting.

I now have Les Slippers of Old-Ladyness which, as this is not what was planned, may be going for a one-way trip to the thrift store. Old Ladyness will arrive soon enough thankyouverymuch and I don't intend for it to be rushed by some slippers although the Act of A is somewhat worrisome.

Good thing I have lots more yarn.

And my running shoes are really, really clean.

Still breathing.

Quiet pleasures

2010-01-18T21:49:00.003-08:00

The Tai Chi instructor says I need to go to a "continuing" class. From anxiety-induced nausea to "continuing" in 4 months - I'm quietly pleased.

These slippers are waiting to be seamed. They took an afternoon of knitting. I'm quietly pleased.

The deer were back this morning. I tried to take a picture of them with The New Recording Device (TM) but I obviously needed to read the destructions as I kept bouncing the flash off the window. I was not pleased but I was quiet about it.

I was not quiet about the two ginormous dogs that came rampaging up the hill and scared the deer - people who don't manage their animals deserve to pay pound charges. The pound is on speed-dial and, having read the necessary pages, next time, I'll have photographic evidence. This is not just about the deer - if I'm going to get back into the running, I do not want to have to think about large, out-of-control dogs when all I'll be wanting is my next breath.

The new moon is hanging in the trees and winter constellations are spattered across the sky; much of that starlight beyond comprehension ancient, those same patterns eternal guide and comfort for journeyers and sojourners.

Still breathing

Showing up

2010-01-17T20:10:00.003-08:00

It was birthday walk day for my friend Dorothy. She is one of those people who shows up - she showed up the week after we moved here 25 years ago, she showed up the morning my mother had a post-surgical stroke and the highways were closed and there was no immediate getting to "there" from "here". She has showed up over these past three and a half years: tea in china cups on the top of a hill at dusk, hankies - a lot of hankies, calls on birthdays - mine and his, getting up at wtf (except she wouldn't use that kind of language) o'clock to go rowing with me so I would go, and walking, walking, walking.

She shows up for each of the women in the birthday walk group. Each of us, in our own time, have been the total one-on-one focus of her attention. Some days we are The Lame Ducks, some days we are Redbreasted Mergansers (find Hannah Main van der Kamp's poem for yourselves). Today, we all walked, drank coffee, and laughed and laughed. There is nothing quite like the mating antics of mallards, playing with The New Recording Device, grandchildren and children stories, a visit to this place (think "hardware store for artists real and wannabe"), and playing and playing with possibilities. We stood on the street like 13 year olds after school, not yet finished with what we wanted to tell/listen/laugh and walked one another to front door, to car, to other car. Finally, the three of us who live on this side of the lake, drove away.

Heading up Bridge Hill, two eagles drifted along the cliff edge. They were so close we could see the feathers of their wing tips, each wing stroke a breath.

Still breathing

Errands

2010-01-16T15:59:00.005-08:00

So, it's Saturday and a glorious, sunny day and, because their website is down, I didn't know that there was new snow at my preferred cross-country area so I did errands instead. Errands which include the following:

- going to the not-this-Saturday-sucker farmers' market (dang!);
- stocking up on nuts and berries at the bulk store (extra points for buying the already bagged bulk which is even more cheaper - stop ragging on my grammar, you in the back - but not as cheap as Sr's Tuesday or Everyone's Thursday but at least I was in and out in less than 7 minutes unlike the aforementioned days which require at least that long in the check-out);
- picking up a G&M for the weekly cryptic slapdown;
- visiting the yarn store of helpfulness (I worry they will go out of business and then who will sit patiently through my trying to get out of knitting a swatch?) and getting 1, 2, 3, ummm, 4 messes sorted out (I bought some stuff, I really did!)
- signing up for a running program (I think it was the sunshine but I've paid now so here goes. We start with a minute of running and a minute of walking. I can do that. I think...)
- checking out the 70% off sale in a favourite store and finding the perfect jeans at full price (dang-dang!);
- taking my going-to-Europe-by-myself (2005 version) shoes in to the cobbler for their second re-sole (vague rumblings of possible travelling begin to stir - must be the sunshine....)
- drinking a coffee in the Bean Scene North while a pair of older dudes play a lot of tunes I know the words to and which I can pick out harmonies for (latter is a big surprise as I don't know how to sing harmony without fingers in both ears).

Not bad for a couple of hours, eh?

Off to knit on the shawl (The YSoH had The Book. Questions answered: K3tog. A bazillion sts. Knitting to the end of the yarn and then ripping back a row or two may still stand...) after putting the new jeans into the wash.

It is 1700h and there is still light in the sky... definitely

Still breathing

Why this is not... 3.1

2010-01-15T13:53:00.003-08:00

That book with the pattern for the shawl I am making for someone else because the colour is so-not-me, that book has disappeared. Although I am not the most tidy of housekeepers (stop falling about laughing), this book is large enough and obvious enough to be difficult to miss even by me. I remember showing it to The Jr Girl. I do not recall seeing it afterwards. Suspicions have been raised. Accusations may be next.

All I need to know is: how many sts in the final row and is it K3tog or sssk over the first 9 rows of the pattern???

If I were a "real" knitter, I could figure it out for myself.

Or I would have made a copy of the pattern for just-in-case.

I think it's K3tog and maybe I'll just keep going until I'm almost out of yarn.

Or check the dambook out of the library.

Still breathing

Wardrobe issues

2010-01-13T22:00:00.003-08:00

At certain times of the year (not usually January) I live in a cloud forest. I go to sleep and wake up to the softness of mist drifting past the windows and wrapping the trees. A walk means a jacket decision: wool to which the damp will adhere and furze up in a gauze of grey, or goretex upon which the wet sits like flattened pearls. I chose depending on my need for company: the goretex is a whisperer, the wool silent.

These days have not been cloud forest but rain forest and goretex because, despite its chattiness, it does keep the water on the outside, dries quickly and doesn't smell like a remnant of the steppes. If it continues to rain, the bag of wellies in the garage which I found while looking for the wax bucket, will be brought into play.

The last time I used wellies in winter was 1984, the year we moved here and I didn't know one "should" have winter boots. Wellies and Cowichan socks did the trick until Santa took pity on me (or thought I needed something a bit more "dressy" for Sunday-go-to-church). If I have to go back to that option, having worn out the dressy winter boots and been using my fantastic leather hiking boots (did you know a mix of Dubbin and mink oil will waterproof almost anything?? - for the past few years) I'm set.

Waterproof jacket? check
Waterproof boots? check
Waterproof hat? check this out - imagine it in a lovely brown and on my head.

Still breathing

Interface living

2010-01-12T23:40:00.003-08:00

Well, I'm not shovelling. That is the good news. Unfortunately, I'm not skiing either nor likely to be unless it's water skiing. If this keeps up, I'll be planting the garden by the weekend.

Just in time to feed the six deer that were browsing their way across the lower lot. At least they weren't on the deck cleaning out the planters - maybe the ones I told off last year have passed the message along. Now, as long as the bear that was still wandering about in late November stays asleep (I think he/she is denned up just below the neighbours' swimming pool which could get interesting come pool filling time) and leaves my winter compost pile alone, I'll be happy. (And figuring out how to take pictures with the zooooooooom on the new recording device just in case Bruin doesn't want to sleep through....)

Still breathing.....

Memo #2

2010-01-11T21:25:00.003-08:00

Dear Mother Nature:

We seem to be having a slight difficulty coming to a mutual agreement re: appropriate weather for this time of year. To wit: once you get me sorted out for snow (boots, mitts, toques, shovels, ski wax all found and shovelling/skiing muscles warmed up) what's with the return of the rain??? Please get your sh*t together.

Or send me the name of your pool wrangler to help me with the one that keeps trying to establish itself on the (former) front lawn.

Yrs crankily,

Me

PS: If the snow disappears from the trails, I may have to take up your behaviour with your boss.....

Still breathing...

This post brought to you by the letter S

2010-01-10T20:02:00.006-08:00

Sock news: Those Puppies are DONE. I stopped counting at 6 re-knits. 5.5 mm needles and monster yarn (fritidsgarn from SandnesGarn) made the re-knits quick but they were still re-knits. The Jr Boy seems to like them. Now I have to learn how to darn the ones he wanted darned so they can be the back-up pair. And I'm going to use up the leftover yarn to make these. Maybe even more than one pair.

Ski supply news: The ice cream pail of new wax as put together by Himself for his last season has been found - all it took was emptying a bankers box in the front hall cupboard (not there), ripping the garage apart (not there), shovelling out to the outside storage cupboard (not there, nor were the critters that have made tracks to the pushed apart screen over the ventilation holes which is a Good Thing), and, finally, bending down far enough (pretty funny when you know how tall I am - hint: not very) to actually look under the shelf in the tool cupboard. Tah and also Dah!!

Sky news: Clouds. Clouds. Clouds. Clouds.

Sculling news: None since the club, due to a bunch of stuff, had to move the boats into a no-lake access barn last September, However, for the record, the lake has been unrowable only 19 days. We lose more days in the summer. Am I aggravated???

Son news: New digs have been found and very nice they are. It will be much quieter here in a few days. And I may be missing a couch. And some dishes.

Son's sibling news: Post-hockey game text from Buffalo: "Lost car keys. Camping in the Hyatt." Hmmmm.... wonder if the Hyatt allows campfires??

Still breathing

Happy 64th

2010-01-09T09:49:00.003-08:00

A visit with dear friends, sorting out the bottle returns, church meeting, abortive clothing shop, a dram with The Jr Boy. The Jr Girl went to a hockey game. No cake, no cards. The Sr Boy never was too fussed about his own birthday - it followed the frazzle of Christmas too closely.

I think we did fine.

Still breathing

Gladnesses

2010-01-07T22:31:00.002-08:00

Sitting here full of Greek food from an impromptu birthday for The Friend Whose Birthday was The Day Before Himself's and, while still lonely in that peculiar hollowed out way of loss, glad of good friends, roast lamb, and ice-cold retsina.

That is all.

Still breathing.

Why this is not a knitting blog 3.0

2010-01-06T21:10:00.003-08:00

I knew I shouldn't have done it but I did. What? you've never done something you thought was a good, well, an OK idea and then found out that your first instinct that it really was not a good idea was the one to listen to not the second instinct (which wasn't really an instinct at all but another eejit idea floating about - they should have to wear fluorescent vests or something those ideas that are masquerading as instincts) which said, oh whatthehell what could go wrong???

Do NOT, do NOT EVER, put some knitting that has gone bad beside some other knitting that also gone bad. So help me yarn, they cross-pollinate and create even more projects-of-infinity than one wants to consider.

Cases in Point: The Christmas Sock Knitting.

I started The Jr Girl's first because there was a bit of a pattern and they were being knit on 2.25 mm needles: not a huge job but lots of stitches that take some time even while reading all the blogs I read. First Sock: A+ so it seemed reasonable to start The Jr Boy's sock. The Jr Girl's Second Sock: 3 rip backs, 2 major tinks (oxymoronic??), and a complete screw-up in the counting of a simple 6 and 2 row pattern. These, finally finished, were left to rest up before their trip to the big city. Resting up beside The Jr Boy's Christmas Socks in Progress. On a scale of Not a Good Idea, this is a 99.3 out of 100.

The Jr Boy's Christmas Socks followed my usual issues with him and size but I thought I was pretty clever by stopping after Sock 1 to let him try it on. Total re-knit required and completed. Sock 2 cast on and then ripped when I couldn't remember that I'd changed the rib from k2p2 to k1p1 so I counted for k1p1 but knit up k2p2. Re-knit up to and including a beeyouteefull short row heel and then, somehow, managed to make the foot 4 stitches wider than its brother sock which is not a problem with usual sock yarn but when knitting with Aran weight.... sigghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Also: because I was sure I'd nailed it (except for the part when I didn't check it out against its brother but why would I when it was the same number of stitches except it wasn't), I kitchenered the toe and sewed the end of the (very black) yarn in really, really well.

Do NOT EVER put gone-bad projects together.

Looking for my scissors

and still breathing.

New season

2010-01-05T19:57:00.004-08:00

The children at the neighbourhood school have been busy: massive snowballs dot the soccer pitch. The rollers were still wearing their snow pants and snow boots but there were a lot of jackets are hanging on the fence. Snowball rolling is hot work.

Hmmmm.... Perhaps I could organize teams of school-children to come up to my place and driveway clear by rolling monster snowballs?? They could bowl them down the gulley and make a new Olympic event!

In the absence of organized school-children, the driveway got one more shovelling this morning just in time for the predicted temperature drop currently underway: -8 and falling. At least the cold came attached to a high pressure which, together with the wet snow, cleaned out the air and left it sparkling and bright which meant:

Tah dah!!

First ski of the season!!

The skis could have used a clean and I can't find the "new" wax box/ice cream pail nor my favourite mitts - I think they got evacuated last summer during fire season - but it was glorious: barely used tracks, blue wax, sunglasses, and not-me in the ditches on the road there and back (the sunny day made for surface melt on frozen roads and people thinking "wet" instead of "ice" - you do the physics).

There was silence, not simply quiet, but silence. No engine noise of any sort - the usual planes were nowhere to be heard, the track groomer was not running, the brush clearers were finished for the day. It was me, the snow, the sun, and two ravens falling all over each other through the sky.

Tomorrow is supposed to be more of the same.

Bring it on!

Still breathing

Next one will be to the snow plow driver.....

2010-01-04T19:48:00.002-08:00

Dear Mother Nature:

It appears you did not get cc-ed on the memo about snow. To paraphrase: ON the mountains, ON the ski hills (especially Whistler/Blackcomb until after the ParaOlympics), NOT on my driveway.

Thanks for your attention to this matter,

Your friend,
Joan

Three shovellings in one day. Sheeessshhhh!

Still breathing

Olympic Run-up

2010-01-03T16:29:00.004-08:00

The Pineapple Express blew in on Friday night. The driveway is now bare except for the part that is masquerading as a pond courtesy of the "interesting" way the new gravel was spread at the end of last year's construction season. I have recorded it on my new Recording Device in 'opes of either getting the driveway levelled out this Spring or organizing the edges of the new (unplanned for) pond exactly where they ought to be.

The weather report calls for -11 by Wednesday. If substantial evaporation has not occured, I will be practising my triple toe-loops prior to spending the Olympics on the sofa with my new hip(s) knitting.

Still breathing

Roysters Ockefeller

2010-01-02T12:09:00.002-08:00

Prior to moving to this valley, I spent my life within smell of the ocean. (For the record, it appears the world falls into two categories: those of us who inhale the odours of low tide and think "home" and the rest of you.) My dear mother-in-law gave The Sr Boy a small piece of property on an island and we and The Jrs were blessed with beaches to walk and tide pools to explore. We ate The Best BBQ Salmon in the World (tm) as made by Himself over a fire of thick chunks of Douglas fir bark but, as we were always there in R-less months, we left the oysters on the beach alone. Shells were gathered, though, and sit on window sills and the deck in this dry climate. Occasionally one gets broken and then I bury it in the garden and think of the consternation of future archaeologists.

We also left the oysters alone because I couldn't stand them: all that creamy, grayish, green slime smirking at me once a shell was wrested open, barnacles biting my fingers and leaving cuts that took forever to heal, the very idea of them sliding down my throat was gag-inducing. I'm the same about clams even though they are easier to open: must be the colour ..... or maybe the slimyness..... Whatever it was, it didn't bother The Sr Boy at all: he would eat them any time someone would prepare them. As I didn't, he was left to his own devices which usually meant Special Occasions. Such as New Years. At friends.

On Thursday afternoon, I found myself at the fishmongers knowing I would be buying salmon for New Year's Day and thinking I was buying shrimp and scallops for New Year's Eve. Such things don't cost as much when shopping for one. I had plans for a nice viognier or maybe a split of champagne.

Somehow, I left with salmon and two Oysters Rockefeller, oysters harvested from our island.

At midnight, I ate the second one. They tasted of the ocean, like going home.

Next year, I'll get six.

Blessings be.

Still breathing.

01/01/10

2010-01-01T14:19:00.002-08:00

Binary code for a title is pretty hot stuff for someone who is not only old enough to remember the computer that filled the basement of the Commerce Bldg at UBC but old enough to have worked part-time as a keypunch/data input operator. One space out of place and the whole program died. Not so good times. My children remind me that the computers in their cell phones are probably more powerful than that computer and I remind them that I usually use a fountain pen so we are about even.

The driveway has been shovelled for the first time in this decade. It took waaaaay longer than it should have due to two things: neighbours out for New Year's Walks and the Cedar Waxwings. The neighbours I see fairly often but the Waxwings are another story.

They were really busy when I went out - their chirrups are higher pitched than anything else but I didn't pay attention because I was Shovelling. After the second pass of the flock and the splat of orange droppings landing about me, I noticed. They were stripping the rowan tree that I warned the backhoe guy about and, as they finished, they launched into the firs and pines chattering like debutantes who had gotten into the chaperone's punch bowl.

They don't come every year and I have never seen such a flock of them. If I had remembered my new camera (!!!), there might have been a picture. As it is, they will be in my mind's eye as harbingers of grace, joy, abundance, and companionship this New Year.

Blessings be.

Still breathing.

Another First

2009-12-25T11:33:00.002-08:00

We - The Jrs and I - are having Christmas on our own at home this year. So far, there is a tree (acquired by The Jrs the day The Girl arrived from Back East and small enough to fit into The Boy's truck thus obviating the need for rope and roof racks) which is decorated with lights and ribbons (another New and Broadening Experience as that was The Sr Boy's domain) and some strings of stars which used to hang in the windows. The dove on top is from a decoration on one of our wedding gifts. There are presents under the tree and The Jr Boy has just gone off to finish his wrapping. Nothing in newspaper so far. The stockings are still full - a sure indication of growing up as there was breakfast and coffee first. Prosecco and cranberry juice are chilling. A turkey is waiting in the frig, red cabbage is already cooked and waiting 'til sundown to rewarm. Church has been attended and all the people who ask after The Jrs got to see one and give a year's supply of hugs. It is a beautiful sparkling day and a walk will occur this afternoon. We are all, in our various ways, heart-lonely but I think we will make it.

Blessings be to all of you who stop by to check in. May there be light in your lives this season and throughout the new year.

Still breathing....

Houston vs Kelowna in Five Rounds

2009-12-07T08:20:00.003-08:00

Some ways Houston, TX, is like Kelowna, BC:

1.) There is snow.

2.) There are people.

3.) There is a Saturday Farmers' Market with local vegetables and fruit and Indian food.

4.) There is a charming production of The Nutcracker.

5. ) There is weather.

Some ways Houston, TX, is not like Kelowna, BC:

1.) Snow that does not land on the ground much less stick will

a) close the airport

b) close schools

c) send staff home early from all sorts of places

2.) People here come in such variety. So far, a conversation with one woman from Egypt in full chador and another conversation with a gentleman from Nigeria via Switzerland which didn't work for him because it was too racist and that was one shuttle ride. Of course, there are also the security guards at the grocery store who are armed with guns.

3.) The Farmers' Market fruit was all citrus. Did you know oranges and grapefruit come in varieties and are harvested at different times?? There were also only 6 vendors - the rest stayed away due to Friday's weather (see #1)

4.) The Nutcracker as produced by a company which has over 75 donors who put down $5000 + each for the Annual Operating Fund (I didn't bother to count the other two pages which list the $500 - 4999 donors), a company of over 50 dancers and a full-on technical and support staff, has a cannon that goes "poot" not "BANG!!!!!!"

5.) So far, there has been snow(falling about laughing), brilliant sun and cold, rain (shoes still soggy) and fog (airport may be closed again) Hmmmm: except for the rain, maybe this is more like Kelowna than I thought. Pause to look out window: Nope: the guys across the street are putting out bedding plants. Also: everyone is all bundled up and DZ and I are walking about in our Goretex with long-sleeved t-shirts.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kelowna anymore....

Still breathing

Weather report

2009-12-04T10:06:00.003-08:00

I am Away From Home. Quite Away in fact: deep in the south of Texas in Houston hanging out with my buddy DZ for a week. We have plans for Things To Do including going to the Houston Ballet to see The Nutcracker (she is a ballet virgin and this will be a "gentle" deflowering), exploring the local farmers' market at Rice Uni, (sorry no links - I'm using her laptop and linkage is beyond me), possible day trips to San Antonio (don't hold yer breath) and Galveston/Gulf shore as well as the usual of spending time together with someone I really like but don't know all that well. There may be wine involved, coffee is a given as is a trip to the local beauty emporium to consider new hair colour possibilities for her (I'm sticking with red).

So lots of plans which we will get right on as soon as we finish standing at the window with our coffee cups wearing our summer t-shirts, laughing.

In honour of two Canadian women with time on their hands, it's snowing in Houston.

I may have to teach her to knit.

Still breathing

Second best moment of the day...

2009-11-24T18:51:00.005-08:00

I go to a Pilates class (medium/intense level) with such a good instructor that my buddy and I have followed her from place to place for the past 5 years. The current class is FULL of Cute Young Things with lots of Lalalemon and tight little bums and flat tums - they LOOK really fit and strong and they work in Silence, (I mean it - I've been in noisier churches) checking themselves out in the mirrors.

My buddy and I, we are The Old Guard (although she doesn't look it as she looks good in Lalalemon and I can't be bothered finding my Bought at a Flea Market in France pull-ons do just fine). We grunt and groan and make rude comments to the instructor who laughs at us and pays us no nevermind. Mostly, we are Good Girls and Keep Ourselves on Our Own Mats (apparently, that's Pilates/Yoga/Exercise talk for our family's Comparisons are Odious). Except sometimes, we just can't help ourselves especially when we are still chugging along with whatever the Wonder Instructor is telling us to do and the rest of the gang are lying on the floor gasping.

Today, I was there on my own (buddy being out of town) and, without the Other Half of Old Guardedness was totally minding my own business/mat (that means the Wonder Instructor asked if I was sick because I wasn't making complaints). We were somewhere in the middle of eleventy-seven repeats of something with a full-on engaged core (unless it was the threety-fifth repeat of what the WI refers to as Plank and we all know are Push-Ups which are also supposed to have engaged core as well as tucked tail and tight elbows) when, into the Deep Silence, the Cute Young Thing next to me asked plaintively, "What does it mean when you start to see stars?"

Broke us all right up.

May have to get her an Old-Guard-in-Training card.

First best moment: The Jr Boy has moved back in for a month (all good). Today, he cast a calculating eye over The Stuff that Needs to be Dealt With and I could see a Plan of Action germinating. Dump trips may be required. OhyeahOhyeahOhyeah!!!!!

Still breathing

Hunkering. Stage 1

2009-11-20T15:53:00.002-08:00

I am hunkering down for the cold season here. For those of you in warmer climes, this does not mean harvesting the most recent peas and looking forward to beans and switching from summer tank tops to cotton sweaters. No, this has other aspects.

Such as: moving motorcycles back into the basement. Please note, I did not do that; The Jr Boy + his good friend did and the rolling stock is nicely set up in its winter home. All the rolling stock, that is, but my little Honda Twinstar which was relegated to winter in the (unheated) garage once The Jr Boy acquired His Blonde and which seems to have been left out on the bike moving again. I'm not sure it would know what to do down there with all the big guys but I think it might like to try it out. Fortunately, The Jr Boy has promised a return visit to organize the garage. Moving one more bike isn't on his radar but it's on mine....

Such as: finding the snow shovels and moving the Garden Refuse Bin to the back of the line because the Garden Refuse Guys will not be back until Spring no matter how many tonnes of pine needles fly out of the interface trees with which I am surrounded and which will take several weeks of filling said Bin to stuffingdom (including possible jumping upon) in Spring to get the ground fire hazard somewhat under control....

Such as: figuring out how to clean and re-base my skis. I've never had to do this. There seems to be a can of something in the wax box which is labelled Stripper. My guess: it's for cleaning my skis and not for creating an ephemeral ChipRDale. A new and broadening adventure awaits...

Such as: adding layers. At the moment, I have on wool socks, jeans, camisole, t-shirt, sweater, and cashmere scarf. Yesterday, I had on all that plus a fleece vest and a great felt hat. The furnace is at 18 degrees only because The Jr Boy came by today and told me that the 14 degrees I did have the furnace set at was actually an air conditioning setting. I am glad to have a working furnace and gas coming into the house. I hate paying the gas bill....

Such as: there are eleventy-three unfinished knitting projects including one lace shawl that was kicking my backside until I suddenly realized that I have knit enough of it to make a lovely Seasilk neckwarmer. Eleventy-two ufos now. Hehehehehe....

Still breathing.....

Further adventures

2009-11-13T19:19:00.002-08:00

Apparently, some of you have nothing better to do than to sit about waiting with bated (not baited - can't imagine you with worms in your mouths...) breath for further installments of deathless prose from Yrs Truly. Well, can't say this will be deathless.

I am at Poppa's aka my father's. This, to some of you means nothing but to others has a resonance. My Dad is 88. Today he worked me into the ground with repect to leaf raking and hauling, raccoon wire removal (apparently once the dambugger crane flies go dormant, the 'coons lose interest), apple picking (2 trees and I'm bringing a boxful home for sharing - sign up now), and carport roof leaf removal. It is the latter which I wish to bring to your attention.

When this house was built (late 1800s/early 1900s and we have the hand forged nails to prove it), cars were not invented. Whoever lived here probably had horses or Shank's mare and did not see fit to build a stable for either. When we arrived, there was a carport/garage which my parents saw fit to incorporate into the house as a "family room". This happened after spending a winter entertaining themselves and their friends in the dining room because my amour d'annee would arrive on Friday evening from uni and we would establish ourselves in the living room in front of the TV for whatever was on offer while we caught up on not having seen one another for a whole 5 days. Once the carport/garage disappeared into the best room of the house, another c/g needed to be constructed and was.

It was built 2 vehicles wide beside the family room with a flat roof outside my brother's second floor window. It is a practical construction for this climate 11/12 of the year. In fact, for most years, it is 100% practical. There are, however, the occasional years when FLAT roof construction is impractical (as in bloody stupid). Last year was one such year which led to the Jrs spending Christmas morning shovelling the damroof (not to mention the driveway which we will not get into at this moment) before stockings and breakfast - well, maybe not stockings but definitely breakfast.

Snow is an issue. So, too, are the broadleafed deciduous and noble/Douglas fir trees which edge this property.

Here's the thing: Going to build a flat roof? Make sure there are drains along the low edge. Check.

The tricky part is: make sure someone is here to clear the broadleafed deciduous leaves et fir needles off the damroof because if you don't SOMEone is going to be out there with the blowtorch (and hair dryer but not so much anymore) to clear the ice off the drains. All it takes (trust me) is one goldanged wild cherry leaf to cover the drain opening and one has the beginning of a Mess.

It struck me as "peculiar" that despite the amount of precipitation there was no run off the roof. Observation led me to realize that no one had been on the roof since last Christmas. Sighhhhhhhhhhh.

O how we need you, digitus camerus.

Picture Moi clambering out Late Bro's window avec rake et Poppa clambering out same window (3rd try due to stiff hip joint) with leaf blower et broom. Picture water in rooster tails blowing over the edge into the gully. Picture drains being opened and gouts pouring down. Picture me thinking about the rescue team perhaps not having to rescue my father from his own flat carport roof.

Picture a day of warmth and soft winds (dragging more of the damapple leaves from their trees), picture the bloddyroof clean swept and the drains open, picture me pushing my father and his gimpy leg back into my brother's room, picture The Old Guy et Moi sitting about the hearth in the family room feeling a bit worn down but not defeated.

It's been a good day.

Still breathing

Not a knitting blog, 2

2009-10-21T11:07:00.003-07:00

This is not a knitting blog - I feel the need to re-iterate that as some people have ended up here thinking it was. Yes, I knit (last count eleventy-five things on needles and/or in time out) but this rambling isn't about that (unless you count the time I wrote about it not being a knitting blog about a year ago). This rambling is about the stuff I am trying to work out and/or report on to the wider universe. (That's where those postings the Bl*%%er eats go: To the Universe and Beyond!)

Having said that about not being a knitting blog and all: I am having more fun than I should have knitting the shawl from Amy Singer's No Sheep for You and that includes restarting it 3 times and finding and spending more time tinking back a fiddly but important glitch than it would have taken to rip and re-knit. Tuscany in Fleece Artist's Sea Wool in a discontinued colour but sort of like what would happen if a bunch of pumpkins met some old bricks. It's not for me because those are totally not my colours but the right person will appear and in the meantime I'm having all this fun. Who knew??

And for those of you who remember about the sweater I made for The Jr Boy - the sweater big enough for him, a few friends and a couple of 2-4s?? Found the perfect guy for it (Wonder S-I-L's beau - long story) and we are all pretty happy. Except now, I need to make The Jr Boy his own in an appropriate size. Still have the pattern plans, just need to remember about gauge.....

And charting: turns out I'm a chart person not a written out pattern person. Maybe if I made myself a chart, I'd be finishing another little languisher? Hmmmm.....

Meanwhile, there are people arriving for dinner and the vaccuuming still isn't done. Just one more row...

Still breathing....

Ed. to add: And, having entertained myself by re-reading my own Sept 08's posts: the new windows in the sunroom this rainy morning are NOT LEAKING! Yah and also HOO!!

A Lot of Words

2009-10-16T12:29:00.004-07:00

Was thinking that if I waited long enough, it would be two months since last post and the three of you who check would have gotten bored with the absence of wordage and I could drift into the silence of autumn and slip away. Unfortunately, someone mentioned the absence so ....

In News Weather and Sports: The Invasion of The Jr Girl and Her Beau was survived helped mostly by The Jr Boy taking time to hang out and by WonderPoppa arriving for a weekend of frivolity which included steam train riding and eatage and drinkage.

Three days after they left, I left for the Wedding of the Year in PEI which involved more eatage and drinkage and driving and living with people I didn't know very well for 5 days which just about tipped this closet introvert over the edge but was rescued by four things: a bedroom (mostly) of my own; a putter through some yarn stores and some yarn enablement with an older friend; a putter along the harbour at North Rustico with another older friend - now know more about the Atlantic fishery than I think some federal cabinet ministers do; and a glorious lunch by myself of lobster, avocado, and bacon clubhouse + glass of wine the last afternoon in Charlottetown. (hmmmm... just re-read that sentence. Look out, St Paul and all copycat writers using your name.) The rest of the rescue occured in TO and involved a great B&B in an art gallery, lunches with The Jr Girl, celebrity chef spotting, market venturing (How many types of mustard can one person try afore taste buds shut down? Six, it turns out.), dinner out, dinner in, street car/subway rides with my own transit pass and the AGO. The AGO deserves a separate think - suffice to say: WOW!!!

Home to Part Two of the Ongoing Adventures of Renovations R Us, 2009. Part One: The Window Replacement is everything I wanted and it is already noticeably warmer in there and in this computer corner. Big Yahoo!! Being the Alternate Employment Site means that the final picky details (some mine, some theirs) will get done before Spring but I can live with most of that. So - seeing as that's in hand, why not expose oneself to more excitement and take on the other side of the house?

Picture a West Coast Contemporary House situated cunningly in a forest. Situated so cunningly, in fact, that the house can hardly be seen for the trees and that to get to the front door, one walks along a wooden bridge that is about 16' in the air. Kids on Hallowe'en loved it, their parents hated it. Note the tenses in that last sentence.

With the Removal of Twelve Trees, the house looked like someone with her clothes ripped off and the bridge looked like a cattle chute. Something Would Have to Be Done. In the space of 2 weeks, I had a dump truck, backhoe, bobcat, one excellent worker, one so-so worker, one boss, one project manager (The Jr Boy), and one designer all doing their various things. I made coffee, decisions, and calls to the bank.

"Something" currently looks like this: One massive interlock brick terraced repro of the Great Wall of China at the driveway end and a lot of air between it and the front door at the house end. The front door is attractively closed with a heavy board nailed across it to keep fools and sleepwalkers from investigating the "lot of air". At the moment, there is a pause for engineering stamps and bank balance correction.

Pause for explanation: some of you (all right, one of you) asked me why I don't put pictures in this thing. There is a very logical explanation: I don't have a camera. If something desperately needs to be recorded, (Twelve Trees Being Removed From Around the House) The Jr Boy usually takes care of that. I like to think that my deathless prose will paint pictures enough for those of you interested. For those who need visuals, sorry, move along. And as for "Why don't you get a camera? They're so easy now.", let me say this: you are talking to someone who spent 33 years with a man who took 99.997% of the pictures in the eleventy-seven albums/storage bins that are spread about this house and which The Jr Boy had to pack up during the Summer of Fire. In the past ten years, I can think of only one photo I could not take and wish I had. For Daguerre's sake, I even went on the 2005 ramble that started this whole blog thing without a camera and only picked up one-timers when I realized that perhaps I was being a bit too - what's the word I want? - obstinate? bloody-minded?? about going camera commando. All of this is to say, however, I am sorry there are no pictures of the New Project. If The Jr Boy brings 'round his camera and teaches me how to do it, there may be some in the future. Don't hold your breaths - remember that most of my "real" writing is done elsewhere with a fountain pen.

Back to regular reporting: All this action has happened without any rowing. That is a long and sad tale for another day. All I can say right now is thanks be that there has been new snow and it's almost cross-country ski season.

This still has not dealt with The Third Annual Father/Daughter Road Trip nor the fabulousness of the new Ballet Kelowna season nor piano practice nor knitting projects nor possible trips nor the Ongoing Issue in California nor the lack of a Good Housekeeping Fairy Other Than Me to take care of the vaccuuming around here but this is enough print to the page for now.

Still breathing....

Re-Tuning

2009-08-24T16:17:00.004-07:00

After the saga of getting the piano here - the one that cost more in storage fees than it is worth on the market but I don't care because it was The Sr Boy's father's not the p-i-t-a b-i-l's so score one for the good guys but who's counting?? - ummm, yes - after getting that piano here, it had to 'settle in'. 'Settling in' when one is a piano is sort like what a cat does only without the kneading paws and finicky eating. 'Settling in' means getting used to the new, dessicated environment after living in the West Coast Temperate Marine one (thanks a lot Social Studies 9) of ocean breezes and dampness.

I knew it needed tuning - the p-i-t-a wouldn't have wasted perfectly good booze and whatever money on something so silly as piano tuning - but it needed a few months to settle in. When even I could hear how out of tune it was, recommendations were garnered, phone calls made and today Mr. van P arrived to do magic.

Magic, as The Jr Girl's Friend commented, is very loud. And very discordant. The Sr Boy is definitely out of the building as he wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes. I hung about and got a crash course in a lot of things I have already forgotten and the beginning of a new vocabulary: temper (not what you think), una corda, 440hz. The Jr Boy blew in and recruitment to a choir was attempted by Mr. van P. Don't know how successful but he'll get another try at that and furthering my piano tuning education in about three months. The poor piano was so far out of tune, re-tuning has to be done in stages.

Does that sound like anyone else's life?

I am about to take my clean (thanks, Mum) rowing callused hands over there and make music.

Without wincing.

Score!!!

Still breathing

And furthermore,

2009-08-21T17:57:00.003-07:00

- When driving to the Coast over the second highest mountain pass in the province at any time of year, expect winter conditions. The 6" of slush last weekend was nasty enough for me and terrible for the 3 flipped over vehicles in the opposite lane. The second highest mountain pass, people - a pass that is higher than the highest "mountain" in Great Britain.

- Books on cd make trips to the Coast easier. Inspector Morse needs more attention than I expected but A Room with a View does not and is quite surprisingly funny.

- Poppa's cottage looks very spiffy in its new roof. I hate to admit that my father was right about improving the appearance.

- My windows are replaced but the finishing is not finished. As I volunteered to be the alternate employment site, I can't blame anyone else (Rats!). It looks pretty damgood as it is and today the light switch got installed so I can stop pouring I mean making dinner in the dark.

- Drywalling makes appalling amounts of dust. I have vaccuumed more in the last two weeks than the last two ummmmmmm...... Well, little (ok, BIG!) while.

- Yesterday, Toronto got tornadoes and the East Coast is about to be landed upon by the remainders of Hurricane Bill. Hope they get the weather sorted out before I get there in 2 weeks because it's all about me, right????

- Last night, we got thunder and lightning and more fires started. Not that I'm keeping score.

- Friends with swimming pools when it is 36 stinking degrees are as gemstones. Friends who know where to go for walks in woods with cedar trees in this town are as magi.

- There will be time spent with family over the next week as The Jr Girl and Her Man arrive tomorrow and we have tickets together with The Jr Boy and His Lady to do this. Poppa arrives on Friday next for a couple of nights which may include planning this year's Road Trip.

- The rowing coaches' weeks off match my trip Down East eggzackly. How cool is that? Apparently autumn rowing requires a few more layers and gumboots. (Good thing I didn't toss out the bag of those I found in the garage). TJG has a walking tour of Toronto planned for me so I guess I won't be entirely devoid of exercise while away.

- Isn't TO a bit big for a walking tour? Maybe it's not the whole city?

- In preparation for familial invasion, I mean arrivals, not to mention training for walking tour, I have to get vaccuuming and making beds and buying wine and beer..... maybe some food.....

Still breathing....

Lammas Notes

2009-08-04T10:56:00.006-07:00

Some harvest from the past month:

- weeding a labyrinth is hard on the knees and back but good for the soul.
- raise one's children properly and they will take care of evacuating one's home should that be necessary (it wasn't but it was good to have it done. Now both Jrs have had a shot at it - maybe I should move before I have to do it myself??)
- my father (age 87) can work two roofers (combined ages ~ 70) to a standstill. (Exchange of excellence between Rfr 1 and Rfr 2 after watching my father: Rfr 1: "Ya know "Fred" (Rfr 3 and not on this job) should see this guy work." Rfr 2: "Fred's eyeballs couldn't move that fast!")
- 33 degrees inside the house is too hot to do anything except sit in the basement ripping address labels from bike magazines (circa 1983 - 2004, 11 issues/year. You do the math...)
- rowing gets better when one does it 5 days/week.
- - - rowing will get even better when I make some heel blocks so I can actually use the foot plate to push from.
- booking airline tickets early for The Wedding of The Year in PEI = quite good ticket prices. Who knew??
- knitting in 33 degrees is not to be thought of.
- nor, surprisingly, is drinking gin or white wine or beer unless that's all I'm having for dinner in which case one beer seems to be enough.
- I should be losing weight.
- I am not.
- friends are still the best investment (after the aforementioned children) - I am so blessed.
- I am a reasonably good poet.
- when I write more, I get better. (see above note about rowing 5/7 days/week, Missy!!)
- guys in the house doing window replacement who said they'd be done in 2 - 3 weeks are going to be done in 2 - 3 weeks. After the last "Men in the House" debacle, I am impressed.
- taking out 12 trees makes the house look very exposed but now I can star watch on the front steps (while escaping the fragging hot house because there are no trees for shade ... and no trees filling up the eavestroughs with 'combustibles')
- firefighters and helicopter crews. If you have to ask, you don't live in BC this summer.

Still breathing
and my suitcase is still in my car.....

Not rowing

2009-07-07T12:56:00.003-07:00

Vacation was a place/time when our family did "other stuff'. We went to the cabin (no electricity nor running water and our idea of heaven on earth) where The Sr Boy lasted about 27 hours before he was working on a project of some sort while the rest of us beached, wrote, read, picked blackberries, swam, and watched deer 4' away through the windows munching on greenery we didn't care about because it wasn't our garden. We went on riding holidays with the Vincent - the YouNitedStates, Great Britain, New Zealand and a fairish bit of this country. We did the obligatory Dizzyland but by train. And we came here.

Sorrento Centre is different. We came here and learned from amazing teachers. The Sr Boy pushed for a cappucino bar and there is one now which makes getting up in the morning even more pleasurable. The baby trees of the holy grove beside the labyrinth are now 25' tall and, yes, they should have listened to The Jr Boy when he said they were planted too closely together all those years ago. We always either camped or stayed in a cabana - both meant self-catering and sharing meals with fellow camp/banaers. The Jr Girl worked here one summer - the only member of the youth staff with a standard driving licence so the only one allowed to drive the tractor (picture chagrin all over the XY chromosome group). The Jr Boy ignored his program the first time we visited and, along with another renegade, spent the week in the woods building forts. It is this place where, in the space of a morning, I can plan making an afterthought heel on a pair of socks with the barista, write haiku about overflowing eavestroughs, walk out of worship with impunity, go for a run up The Sr Boy's road, and discuss the theology of "winners writing scripture" over coffee with a bishop, two teenagers, and the groundskeeper.

There is a beach, a creek, a labyrinth, an ancient apple orchard, and a strawberry garden that has gone to weeds but is still pickable if one asks the aforementioned groundskeeper. There is new music, new ideas, old friends, and breathing space. This week, there is also much-needed rain and, therefore, mud which in turn provides images such as the one that has just passed this window of a small person clad only in knickers and t-shirt stomping in every puddle along the roadway.

Beyond this space, there are two wineries Recline Ridge and Granite Creek with great German style wine within half an hour on country roads - I have a case of proof in the car. There is a brewery that only sells by the barrel - this may be a problem when it comes to taking some home. There is a great farmers' market (for their produce - get yer minds out of the gutter. Although.....) on Saturday and a lavender farm where tea is served.

This is more than a vacation.

It is holy days.

Still breathing......

Denial = what I think - what is

2009-07-05T12:29:00.004-07:00

As in: if I only row 5 days a week, including a trip almost to the bridge (5 km one way) and a couple of goes in a single, but not 7 days, then I am not addicted to rowing. Not even when I am going to bed at 2145h and getting up at 0500h. Not even when I am developing calluses on my hands. Not even when the best moment of my day is when I manage several strokes in perfect balance before it all goes to sh*t. Again.

I have bought new water shoes, more sunscreen, a pair of sunglasses that fog up when I really get going.

I am surprised at myself.

And quite chuffed.

There is, however, a slight problem: I have to go away for three weeks and there is no rowing where I'm going.

I almost decided to cancel, but I didn't.

Because I'm not really an addict.

Still breathing

Saving money on shoes

2009-06-28T18:45:00.003-07:00

As rowing is my New Favourite Thing, there have been New Insights such as the following:

- how early I have to go to bed to get up at 0530.

- taking a shell out of a boathouse when 3 of 4 rowers are well over 5 feet tall and one (guess who) is a titch under provides interesting optics. Think: 3/4 crew has the boat on their shoulders and one has her hands up in the air.

- how beautiful it is on the water at 0630.

- how, apparently after a certain age, rowing and hangover don't mix. Don't ask. The LCB is going broke.

- holding onto both oars at the same time with the same amount of grip is important. Not doing so leads to new and broadening experiences namely How to Deal With a Rolled Over Double When One's Partner is Panicking. Good news? The lake is not as cold as it was when I started this adventure.

- how easy it is to get a couple of new sets of shoes.

It's about the shoes, today, and it goes like this: I am not at my tiptop best first thing in the morning and bright lights are to be avoided. Yesterday, at 0600h, I grabbed my sneakers from the shoe pile, tied them on and headed out. At the boathouse, I took them off, put on my water shoes (my feet are too small to stay in the stretchers without a bit of bulk and besides I'm a wuss about rocks and a dropped shell would cost me waaaaayyy more than my bottle return money), put my runners in a locker and proceeded to row. Finished rowing, got shoes out of locker, put them on, went for lunch with The Jr Boy. Decided to change clothes as lunch was birfday and a bit of dressing for the occasion was required. Took off runners, leaving them in the car, put on sandals, had lunch. Left sneakers in the car overnight in case of a walk-attack occuring sometime today and it did - right out the dock at camp for a lovely sit with some strawberry shortcake and some alone time. Enough alone time that I got around to looking at my feet. Which were wearing sneakers: nice white Saucony sneakers.

Too bad they weren't from the same pair.

How many times did I put 'em on and take 'em off?? Yeah, go back and count and then tell me you take a look at your perfectly fitting sneakers everytime you put yours on to make sure you haven't kind of tried a cross-pollination experiment.

So here's what I figure: it took me a day and a half to notice. Nobody else did or else they were either (a) too polite to comment or (b) simply thought what they already thought about me - Nutbar. The shoes fit just fine and I'd probably have gone another few days what with leaving them in the car and swapping them with my sandals/church shoes/flip-flops before I clued in. Seems as if I've now got 4 sets of shoes: two pairs of matched up Sauconys and two not-pairs but-they-fit-just-fine Sauconys. As long as I don't mix and match (or maybe it won't matter - may have to try it...) when running, I have two extra sets of sneakers. GOLDEN!!

Still breathing....

Meanwhile, back at the ranch,

2009-06-01T16:21:00.003-07:00

Two things:

1. Rowing (as in sculling) is my new drug of choice

2. The Garden Refuse Guys are messing with me again. To wit: Today is Rowing Day (see above) which means I am out of here by 0545h (yes, I am surprised to be up at that hour not to mention clothed and more or less in my right mind). Habit requires that the garbage goes out on Mondays and that the Garden Refuse goes out on alternate Mondays. Today was an alternate. Have I mentioned that I live on an interface (and, yes, I watched that picture happen 6 years ago) and am surrounded by pine and fir trees which, unlike deciduous trees, shed their #%$*ing needles year round building up a lovely, combustible mat on the ground which must be removed either by raking or by horror. I prefer raking and spend time every other week doing it because the eejits who run the Garden Refuse Program don't understand that a bunch of pine and fir trees can drop a schwack-load of needles in a season.
So: I put the full GR and the 1/4 full garbage cans out at the end of the driveway before leaving this morning.
They never get here before noon but it was one less thing to think about and besides I was going for coffee after rowing.
I get home before noon. The neighbourhood is full of GR and garbage cans and I think: Oh Goody! Next Door and Across-the-Street haven't used their GR cans (got rid of most of their pine trees, smartie pantses). I call and leave message at the one and have a conversation at the other leaving me up two more GR cans. Hot Diggity!! I load 'em both up and wheel them to their respective driveway ends (the new system doesn't allow for more borrowing neighbour's cans and putting at the end on one's own driveway so the pine needles get a little travelling time before the GR Guys arrive. I hope they enjoy the change of location. Dodgasted pine needles. And cones. And knapweed. Ahemmmmm)
Feeling full of righteousness and fresh air, I mosey back into the driveway and notice a dandelion ready to go to seed. It is but the twitch of my mighty rowing muscles to wrench it from the ground. I mosey back to my GR can to pop it in on top of the stuff I collected earlier this week. I open the lid.

It is for moments such as this that the word Sh**********t!!!!!!!!!! was invented.

The GR F*ckers have already picked up the Garden Refuse.

Understand: MY GR can is empty, my neighbours' GR cans are now full because I was making the Assumption ( I know, I know, assume makes an Ass out of U and Me) that the GR pickup time had not changed and, because other people's GR cans were still out there, the GR was TOO!!!

Arrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, now I have: one empty GR can (mine) and one full GR can (Next-Door Neighbour's) in my driveway waiting for next pick-up in two weeks time. After coming inside for a little rest and perhaps some restorative, I went out to collect Across-the-Street-Neighbour's too, but it had disappeared.

The GR Guys came back this afternoon and made the pass on the other side of the street.

Still breathing.....

They've got a week

2009-05-22T13:17:00.003-07:00

I've been home for 24 hours and except for one thing, it seems as if I have never been away. The Trip to Redding was a frantic whirrrrr of getting to Sacramento, getting car, getting fed, getting Jr Girl, and getting to Redding all on four hours of sleep.

The Hearing was a day of frustrations: no face-to-face so we still don't know what the other guy looks like and no movement on the part of the insurance co.

It was also, I hope, a strong shock to the insurance adjuster when we hauled out the photos that, to any motorcycle rider, categorically prove that NO, the Sr Boy did not run into her client because there is no F*cking damage to the bike except WHERE??? The SIDE of it. When was the last time any of you saw a motorcycle running into something sideways and upright??? And which side? The RIGHT side of it, the same side as the broken leg which would have been in place about the point of impact. Think about it.

Got it?

Thought so.

Apparently, no one bothered to ask to see the bike other than the iccybiccy adjuster who is used to dealing with cars so there was a large focus on the jeep but not so much on the bike as everyone was listening to the guys who could still talk and their story was that Himself had hit them and blahblahblah...

The mediator used to ride British bikes. He looked at the pictures, listened to The Juniors'explanations, observed the perfectly straight front forks and true front wheel and took the pictures into the other room. I don't know what he said but it wasn't enough to get the local adjuster to move. If she's smart, she'll be spending this long weekend down there making some calls to her higher-ups and maybe looking for a new job.

The Afternoon of the Hearing Day was driving back to Sacramento trying to decide what the orchards were that weren't olives or citrus (Why doesn't CA take a note from WA and put labels on things like that, big labels that can be read by curious Canadians?) and wondering where the water for all the rice paddies had come from and what happened to it after it was finished in the paddies. And trying not to think about all the effort and energy we had expended to get the three of us down there to have nothing in our hands to come home with.

The Afternoon finished with the usual when I am driving without looking at the map: lostness of tempers and tears in the bath.

The Evening was better: excellent meal and wine in this place and a taxi ride in a converted police car (The Jrs were very impressed, I was oblivious other than wondering if the holes in the dash were possibly created by bullets being the YouNitedStates and all - apprently not, simply boltholes from removed equipment) followed by the helpful people at the airline (that is not an oxymoronic combination - they were helpful airline employees) who changed The Jr Boy's and my flight so we were leaving about the same time as The Jr Girl. This was a good idea in theory but meant another night of about 4.5 hours of sleep for Miss I-Have-to-Return-the-Rental-Car-and-I-Don't-Know-How-Long-That-Will-Take.

So, here I am: Home again and nothing different

Except for the piano in the family room.

The Sr Boy's father's piano arrived yesterday afternoon.

Good thing we changed our flights.

Guess I'll be looking for a piano teacher.

And figuring out a new furniture conformation.

I'm supposed to be getting rid of stuff, right??

Still breathing

and playing scales......

Why I haven't been answering the phone. Part 2

2009-05-17T13:48:00.003-07:00

This is how the week has gone:

Tuesday morning: "May we have 20 - 30 photos representing your husband's life? and may we have them by Thursday?"
Tuesday evening: "Where are your family statements about what the loss of your husband has meant to you and your children?" Ah yes, those - the ones that are to be one-page, practical-not-emotional and, therefore, supposedly 'easier' to write. The ones the other lawyer said we didn't need until the morning of the hearing.

All I can say is it's a damgood thing I got laid off because this dealing with the last-minute is a full-time job.

Thanks be for friends with computer skills and my unwillingness to put away the photos The Juniors chose to represent The Sr Boy on the posterboards for the post-funeral BBQ and bike gathering wingding almost 3 years ago.

Thanks be for amazing English teachers for both The Juniors.

Thanks be for The Juniors who are dealing with this with suspiciously adult grace.

If this new stage were a child, it wouldn't even be in pre-school yet....

Only 3 more sleeps....

Off to dig in the dirt

Still breathing

Waiting

2009-05-11T11:57:00.003-07:00

A week tomorrow, The Juniors and I will be going to Sacramento, CA and thence to Redding for a hearing about The Sr Boy's accident. After all these months, it will seem to most people that we may be "getting near the end."

Except that it isn't the end. I don't think this ever "ends". It is hard to explain - this emptiness, the silence - and Himself used to say, "If I have to explain, they won't understand." I don't want to seem cryptic but there is really nothing to be said about this other than "A week tomorrow, I will be..."

Not sleeping all that well and not answering the phone much but pruning the garden bushes

and

still breathing

New Career??

2009-05-03T16:17:00.003-07:00

Well, that went better than expected!

Upon checking The Cottage on Tuesday, "There," as my family likes to say, "he was gone" - Yay!!!! Upon close checking, there it was ICK!!

While there weren't crreeeepppyyy crawlies or needles or other such lovely things, there was grotty person dirt. And stuff: odd stuff - an apparently good pasta pot - he must have lifted one from work and doesn't need another?? All the cleaning supplies - what, he's not going to clean in his next place? Oh, wait, he wasn't cleaning in this place so I guess he didn't need 'em. A scrofulous hide-a-bed. 27 clothes hangers. And so on.

Large sighs of relief heaved about the emptiness and a bit of concern about the stuff + dirt issue. More discussion with Dad: do it ourself and take weeks vs get help and get it done. He agreed that the two pages of single-space typing listing cleaning and repairs required was going to take too long if I had to leave again soon (I do) so back to the phone and help was acquired.

Here is what money can buy: 2 lovely Cleaners: hard workers and easy on the eyes who started at 0730 and finished at 1630 (that's 16 hours of cleaning for a 500 sq ft cottage!) and 2 lovely Junk Guys: hard workers and easy on the eyes as well (the e-o-t-e part seems to be the bonus I get for having to do this stuff. Remember the tree guys in the previous evict??) The Junk Guys arrived at 1030 and left at 1115 with a full load as Dad decided to also start the clear out of the shed behind the cottage and that was good with the sofa-bed and the non-working ("I didn't want to tell you because I was embarassed about not paying the rent") frig for filling up about 3/4 of the truck bed. All this on Friday and we spent the day alternately hauling stuff out, sorting and re-packing the shed, re-setting the railway track (don't ask - it involved me with a shovel and bowlined rope around my waist and my father calling directions down the cliff. An improvement over what he was planning which was the opposite configuration of available personnel which could have led to a premature sorting out of the rest of his estate!) and oohing and aahing over the improvement. The 2 page list is down to about half a page. Next up? Painting - also to be hired out.

We celebrated yesterday by going to the Crow and Gate for lunch and came home to a phone message from my father's cleaning lady: "Is your daughter still there? If so, would she be willing to help me with a tenancy issue?" Four hours later, I think she is sorted....

I should hang out my shingle.

Off to smell the lilacs and gird loins for the pre-California preparation.

Still breathing

Back in Business

2009-04-14T10:36:00.003-07:00

Am I really a B*tch or is it that I am good at some things requiring "Firm But Polite" behaviour?? To wit: I am back in the evicting business.

The family cottage is very small and funky with a view to die for and, if you are a well-behaved tenant, beach and wharf privileges. We spent many, many summers "At the Bay". I learned to sail there and that hauling rocks was easier with a winch and high tide - did you know rocks weighed less under water? It holds a lot of good memories and, were one to need a place to retreat for restoration of spirit, it could be just the ticket.

My dad has (finally) decided that the bonehead-4-months-arrears-"I'll-have-the cash-tomorrow" tenant needs to go. Who ya gonna call?

Eviction Woman!!

So far: one Firm But Polite letter, one Full-of-Excuses (and Lies that he thinks I don't recognize) phone call. That was two weeks ago. Lots of heads up and pay attention one would think, right?? Not so much for this guy. I think he made the same mistake the last character did and thought I would be A Girl and, Therefore, Someone Who Could be Strung Along With Words and Promises.

Apparently, he was wrong.

This morning: one Inspection Visit complete with signing of Tenancy Agreement document that should have been done 5 years ago (thanks, Dad who was being Nice) followed by the handing over of the coup de grace: a 10 Day Notice. For those of you who have followed my career as a landlord, you may know what I'm talking about, for the rest of you it's pretty simple: he has 5 days to pay up in full or file a dispute. If he does neither, he has 10 days to leave. He was not very happy.

It could get messy. Or it might not and he will leave when he is supposed to. Either way, there may be cottage and wharf space available this summer.

Completed Applications for Preferred Weeks on the pile to the right.
FAQ sheet and blank Applications on the left.

Children of the Family: you are on notice for clean-up patrol!!

Knitting up a storm

and still breathing.

Dear Weather:

2009-04-02T10:46:00.004-07:00

It seems you missed the memo: the one that pointed out that Spring has Officially Started and that grooming of cross-country ski trails has ceased. You also seem to have missed that I took my skis out of the car and said, "I think I have finished skiing for the season."

These are the only explanations (other than an intense cold front from Alaska - Sarah Palin's revenge??) I have for the 4" of snow on my deck and driveway.

Four inches of snow on the 2nd of April!!

All right: maybe 3" but it's still coming down.

May I remind you, Weather, that this is neither Calgary nor Ft St John? I am supposed to be planting out the pansies I bought yesterday. I am supposed to be raking the dead stuff including several not-my-dog poops from the grass and filling the Garden Refuse Bin for Monday. I am not supposed to be thinking "maybe one more trip up the mountain."

Or am I?

It's still snowing.

The Sr Boy would be up there.

It is to laugh.

Still
breathing.

Love,

Moi

Still Crazy...

2009-04-01T17:17:00.003-07:00

It is All Fools' Day.

You regular readers (all two of you) will not have to go far to hunt the gowk as evidenced by the following:

It snowed on me while at the plant nursery today. Flurries are predicted for tomorrow.

Once again, proving that I am still crazy after all these years, I bought the annual supply of pansies for various buckets and boxes and am about to plant them.

I guess I'm done with skiing for sure for this year.

Still breathing.

And cold and dirty fingered.

End of the Season

2009-03-29T11:43:00.003-07:00

Sometimes, I am convinced that I am so important to The Universe, that it simply waits around for me to make plans or even hint that I might be making plans and then gives me a swat like a cat teaching a particularly insubordinate kitten.

To wit: that skiing plan from the last posting?? Turned into almost ten days of flat out focus on someone else who was Really Needing Help. The kind of help that rings in family and friends from near and far and that requires prayer and food and offers of any sort of help that might sound reedonkyoulous in any other circumstances. She will be fine but right now she's a long way from home and living in a new reality.

But: once "we" got her on her way, I did go skiing. Twice: once to deal with a lot of pent-up anger and the second time with a dear friend who has been one of my rocks these past few (!!) years. She said, "Where do you want to go?" I, somewhat fragile from the results of ministrations by another dear friend the evening before, indicated that it was her choice. She said, "How about Summer Road to Panorama Loop? " Gulp.

For those of you who don't know, The Sr Boy was a heller for cross-country skiing. As previously mentioned, he skied every day of the first winter of his permanent sabbatical even unto the trail grooming closure. In the snowy winter, it was Telemark and then home. In the sunshine of spring, it was either T'mark or Summer Road and then the long and glorious and terrifying right-at-the-end Panorama. Anyone who skied with him in the spring has an image of Himself paused at various lookout edges gazing west over the rolling Okanagan hills. I had looked at the turn-off a few times but it's long and relatively remote and I was on my own and I have to think about things like that now.

For the information of everyone: Summer Road in the sunshine with a good friend is an excellent hangover cure. So, too, is stopping and remembering and laughing, not to mention the long downhill with sweaters tied around waists and the wax all but gone. At the far end of the Loop, we followed the tracks of a group of bobcats - tracks that had been made between the early morning skiers and us. They eventually left the trail and disappeared over the edge, single file skirting the cliff. Wordless reminders of all unseen guests.

Juice and biscotti in the parking lot and the clouds rolled in. Ski season was over. Time to go home and get on with the basement and the considerations: sell or stay, give away or keep.

But first: clean the skis then rewax against next season.

Still breathing.

Milestone

2009-02-27T09:44:00.003-08:00

Yesterday,
in the glory that is a sunny, new snow, Okanagan day,
I skied all of the Telemark trail
by myself.
for the first time.

It took sleep to take the grin off my face.

I am planning to do it again today.

Still breathing

inhaling,

2009-02-08T14:47:00.003-08:00

on this bright, ice-clear
February afternoon,
scent of narcissus.

deeply

Sick - a Reflection

2009-01-17T14:18:00.003-08:00

New Year doesn't always start on the 1st of the calendar. Sometimes it does, but more and more New Year starts whenever I say it does and for the past three years, it has started after the obligatory post-Christmas Sick. Not simply malaise, Sick as in: can't get out of bed, can't read, can't knit, can't think beyond the next turn of the pillow and oblivion of sleep.

When The Sr Boy was here, I seldom succumbed to The Sick being a strong believer in the utter foolishness of sickness without my mum (chicken soup and her jewelry box were dynamite to almost any bugs that showed up and there were a lot in the pre-vaccination days of my childhood). Being sick as an adult had fewer advantages but there was Somebody There. Being sick as an adult on my own? Yuck in several different directions. There is no one to whine to, no one to check up on me, no one to make hot apple juice, no one to push me out into the shower so he can remake the bed with clean sheets and no wrinkles.

I know that there are several billion people who have been left alone and have survived this new stage in their lives. I understand that in my brain and I get it. Unfortunately, my heart and body are still finding this incroyable and so, after the intensity that is The Family at Christmas, they have gone on sick leave.

I think next year, I'll book something else - maybe a few more days elsewhere between the end of the gathering and the beginning of the New Year. Sun? Skiing? Not too sure just now but I'm not doing Sick like that again.

Still breathing.

Road Trip - The End

2008-12-05T20:51:00.004-08:00

Yes, I know, I'm still not finished with The Road Trip. We got back. Obviously. Great lunch in Salmo, BC at a cafe in the old bakery (thanks to my cousin who remembers it as the best doughnut place in town) and then a herd of mountain sheep tucked under the trees. We backed up to see them and all the other people who roared past missed. Then the swing up and over between Rock Creek and Osoyoos - so much like Tuscany except for the replacement of fast European cars with American SUVs and oversized lorries. Home before the highway fell down. A day or two of serious work and dinner with The Cousin and His Wife and a very dear friend. Poppa got to fly home, I drove down to The Island 3 days later picking up his brother and heading to Canadian Turkeyland which got changed to a lovely roast beef without any power. Good thing the pumpkin pie was made and we found the candles.

The End of Road Trip 2008. Stay tuned for Road Trip 2009 which may be to PEI in Sept.

BUT - there are new and broadening experiences beyond those vehicular. Experiences such as: electricity and the organizing thereof.

Still breathing and my hair is still straight. Both very good things.

Not answering the phone today...

2008-12-03T08:50:00.003-08:00

The possibility of a court case as a result of The Senior Boy's last adventure looms ever closer. I am spending the morning trying to align thoughts and words explaining the "...mental, or emotional injuries..." attributable to The Incident. I am reminded of his comment about another adventure years ago: "If I have to explain it to them, they won't understand."

Hollowed out

and still

Breathing

Road Trip - Part the Second

2008-11-25T09:25:00.003-08:00

The Other Road runs south around Glacier National Park - theirs which is different from ours. I was prepared for a whole lot of second best and was delightfully disappointed. This is a lovely, wide, sweeping road that starts along Middle Fork of Flathead River and then upandovers to East Glacier where Hwy 49 heads north. These are roads I know from The Sr Boy's descriptions and for sure we met lots of riders and were overtaken by others. On the east side of the Flatheads the only haze was that of distance and our eyes were all but blinded by the glitter of aspen and birch autumnal gold against the blueblueblue. Dad had figured out his camera troubles and took at least a bazillion (that used to be a large number, didn't it?) pictures. We drove and gawped, drove and stopped, drove and rolled up to the border.

Despite the loveliness of the day and the evidence of Fall as recorded by our eyeballs and the camera, we weren't quite there yet in our minds unlike the Canadian Customs and Immigration service which was in the process of shutting up the border for the season. Once again, timing was everything - one more day of dawdling and we'd have been deep into the flatlands looking for the next crossing. I expected to sail on through but apparently boredom still requires breaking and, as we were only the second vehicle (at 1230h) of the day, it was the full document deal including questions of my father as to why he didn't have a passport. The Customs Officer wasn't amused by Dad's assertion that he wasn't going to live long enough to get full value and "strongly recommended" his getting one before his next trip out of country. Dad's reply: "My next trip out of country will probably be one-way." I started to laugh and the guy finally took a closer look at Dad and realized that geezerdom was alive and well and returning to Canada.

Next stop: Waterton.

There are, in the pile of photos I have shuffled at my parents', several small b&w pictures marked "Waterton Lakes". Among them are several of this building (and yes, I am choked that the only good pictures are from another country's national park website!). We drove around the village. That building looms above the landscape and my father has no recollection of it during his work there. I guess being a married student of very limited means not to mention being somewhat focused on the research job at hand and, in his recollection, doing so in absolutely filthy weather doesn't bend one to noticing the scenery. We finally figured out that it was probably Mum who took the pictures when she came for a visit. I wished yet again for lost conversations. Dad is better at letting go and we pressed on.

The run up Hwy 6 to Pincher Creek was further glory - what is it about hay season set against the Rockies? Things had changed in the town in the 60 years since Dad was last there. The length of time between visits bemused him somewhat so after a quick sideroad to see if the ginormous windmills made any sound (they do - but not much in the gentle afternoon wind) it was Hwy 3 into the dropping sun.

Frank Slide and the whistle of wind over rocks still bare after 105 years, Fernie - holy cats what a lot of development!, and finally rolling down into Cranbrook and bed.

Next up: driving home.

Right side up and still breathing

The Road Trip - Part One

2008-10-21T11:01:00.004-07:00

OK: where did almost two? three? months go?? Into the (deemed by me) Bin of Boring Dailyness. What, after all is there to say about a life that looks sort of like: get up, get dressed, do daily chores including eating and drinking, go to work (or not), go to bed. Where are the amazing moments of the misty silence that is Venezia in late ottobre, the stunning Chagall windows in the Fraumunster in Zurich, and pain au chocolat et cafe on the sidewalk of Montmartre? The thing is, they are all around but due to familiarity, I don't pay the attention they deserve. Or they take on a life of their own and then I get overwhelmed with trying to do the experience some sort of justice.

Case in point: the road trip with Poppa. It was supposed to be a fairly straight-forward. Take one late middle-aged woman + one elderly father, put in a small vehicle with food, drink, and maps for 4 days, write about it later if it was "interesting". Well the lack of wordage might give you the idea that it wasn't interesting. Wrongo! as "they" say.

A few things to know: my dad was a very busy GP in the time when things such as house calls were part of the practice. We didn't see a lot of him and my mum did a very good job of making sure that he "wasn't bothered". She did such a good job, that it didn't occur to me until The Jr Girl was born that he might have liked to be a bit bothered and I have been making up for lost time on and off since. When we both lost our darlings within a month of one another, our relationship gathered in those events and moved on. He understands and is angry for the years The Sr Boy and I did not have. Last year, we tried our first Father-Daughter Road Trip. To Kaslo, with The Previous RAV. We got fabulous weather and a good time. This year, it was a run to Waterton.

I'd originally tried for a cross-Canada as far as Toronto as The Jr Girl has moved house again and wants her kitchen equipment. Dad wasn't going for that despite his occasionally mentioned thought that every Canadian should travel across the country on land. His "occasional mentions" are to me sort of like quietly voiced royal commands. He makes them so casually but there is always some deep underpinning. He is, however, now in his late 80s and TO looked just too far.

So, Waterton - another place of his university years - it was.

It was such a good trip! Once again, we got fabulous weather and once again, we got surprises. Dad hasn't been through the southern Kootenays for years and the colours of the aspens and cottonwoods were glorious. He loved the ferry trip across Kootenay Lake and told me stories I hadn't heard of sorties up and down the lake establishing measurements for fisheries research: late night adventures to see my mum who was visiting other family, a storm that left their boat 10 m up the beach when the water calmed down. We nipped in to Barefoot Handweaving to pick up the beautiful jacket I had commissioned in June and rolled on through the evening light to Creston. Ordinary, right? Except that this time, he was taking pictures and we turned around a couple of times to do so. Except that this time, we made time to stop and chat up the locals - he's very good at that and I am learning - and to simply look. This is what we didn't see because there was a big truck following us across this.

Creston was playing host to a collection of HotRodders. Those are a different breed of cats: loud noise early in the morning is an essential component and difficult for those of us who would prefer sleeping to blower assisted engine noise. The good news for the guy at the motel was that I was already awake and Dad doesn't do crabby upon awaking anymore. Won't be staying there again on that weekend. Ever.

Over breakfast and the maps, we decided to head to the YouEssofEh and a drive across Going to the Sun Road. As we were rolling up to the border, I asked Dad for his birth certificate (he is refusing to pay for a passport which he doesn't think he'll live long enough to use enough to justify the cost). "I didn't bring it." We are now between the Canadian and TheOtherCountry's borders and turning around is not an option. He got The Look. The Jrs know it. Some of you may know it. The useful look for when words fail. "Well, if they don't want me, we can just turn around." I forego explaining that first we would have to be let in to be allowed to turn around and if he doesn't have his documents, we might not get either in or out and, if we do, we might not get back into Canada. All this is playing out as I continue to drive up to the immigration officer and thinking of one of the stories in Thomas King's One Good Story That One.

"Where are you from?"
respective locations given as he looks over my passport and Dad's driver's licence
"Where are you going?"
route explained
"How long are you staying?"
length of stay explained
"Have a good visit."

As we were driving away:
Dad: "See, I didn't need it."
Me: "You still have to get back into Canada."
Dad: "Yeah." pause "Unless I croak along the way."
Me: "Oh joyous - then all I'd have to do is bury you somewhere because I bet they wouldn't let me bring you back unless you were stuffed."
Dad: "Probably not." pause "Wonder how much stuffing would cost?"

With a travelling buddy like that, how could I not have a good trip?

We discovered that Going to the Sun was closed east of the summit but that we could drive up for free because it was national free park day or some such thing. Dad's camera stopped working so we had to simply look and marvel at the courage of the workers who punched their way through the dirty thirties making that road. We do nothing similar in this time of big machines. There had already been snow up top and the road was being closed for the season two days after our visit. The snow stakes are 3 - 4 m long. Next day, we visited a local book store in the Amtrak station and mused over pictures of snow plows over the edge and other delights of winter in the mountains.

Next up: The Other Road

Still breathing.

Road Trip

2008-09-27T08:58:00.003-07:00

Don't hold yer breath waiting for posts. Going on a Road Trip with Poppa. Back when we're done!

But first this update: Caulking still holding. (I know I didn't tell you about the process. I'm saving that for a day when I have nothing else to tell you.) Helpful Neighbour has drawn plans for ripping the mess off and replacing with a proper roof. Jr Boy has looked and there is, (no surprise) probably more to it than a simple (is there ever any such thing??) roof replacement. The Proposal: Continue to spend fall/winter dejunking and when I'm tired of that, (no doubt a daily occurence) make the list of What I Would Want If I Were Buying This House. That list could be fairly exhaustive so it's a good thing (a) I'm leaving town for a few days; (b) it's all conjecture otherwise the investment dude would be falling about in panic and (c) that the market here is tanking so I'm not about to list before Christmas anyway. If the market stays tanked, I might start working on the list in some sort of order rather than my usual random (Let's do this. No, let's do that. No! let's do that first and then rip it out to do this properly!! Don't ask how I know this)

Stuff's in the car. Flight's on time. Gotta go.

Still breathing

Finished Objects

2008-09-21T13:09:00.003-07:00

Three things:

1. The deck is painted. It is a different colour on the deck than on the paint chip. Is anyone else surprised by this?? The sander has not been returned as the new green on the deck doesn't "go" with the old green of the wooden tables and chairs. Sanding of furniture will be done and maybe even some painting in the garage because

2. The engine block is Gone!! Glory and praise and joyous dancing!! Dead Metal Recycling is my new favourite local hauling company! With a bit of reshuffling, I may even be able to reach the vacuum cleaner can and vacuum the

3. New vehicle! The acquisition of which is my new party piece. When I have finished telling it to everyone who will listen, I might tell you all but it sort of loses in translation from voice to print. Suffice to say, that once again, technology wins a game I didn't know I was playing. New vehicle is a green 2005 Toyota RAV4, standard transmission with 52,000km. Does this sound familiar? It should: it is the vehicle I was looking for a year and half ago. Guess I waited long enough. Will miss those heated seats, though.

Caulking report next time.

Still breathing...

This is not a knitting blog

2008-09-19T09:37:00.004-07:00

Disclaimer 1. I knit. This may not be too important to most of you but it is important to me as it keeps me from drinking (somewhat) and smoking.

Disclaimer 2. I have a few projects on the go. Well, all right: 8 that I can think of (and that includes 2 things I was knitting for The Sr Boy before he went off on his own adventure).

Disclaimer 3. I have a sort of stash that could be used for a project if I knew what it wanted to be.

Disclaimer 4. I have purchased yarn without knowing why other than it was beautiful and I wanted it.

Disclaimer 5. I have purchased yarn over the interwebs despite having to trust my monitor's colour resolution and learning how to use online payment.

Disclaimer 6. I have given away yarn because I knew the giftee would enjoy it more than me.

Disclaimer 7. I have been given yarn.

Disclaimer 8. I read knitting blogs. A lot of knitting blogs.

Disclaimer 9. I have frogged so often my middle name should be Rana. (I would actually choose Rana aurora which is the Red-legged version and may do so when I get my red leggings knat. Not!)

Disclaimer 10. Knitting in the round? Yes!! Lace? Mmmmm - still waiting for the joy which I think will require serious sofa time with no Mike or Igor or any of the cohort of tube-ish distractions. Everything else is up for consideration.

Disclaimer 11. My mother taught me how and for thirty years I only knit patterns with stockinette because the other stuff was "too hard". That worked right up until I lost the Aran sweater she had made for me and she had lost too much memory to be able to work the patterns to reknit so I took over. Who knew how easy an Aran sweater could be?

Disclaimer 12. I have issues with gauge. Ask The Jr Boy about the sweaters I have made for him in which he could have a party along with six or seven friends. I like to think that this is because I was sure he was, despite excellent evidence to the contrary (um, measuring tape, anyone?), 6' tall and weighed 185#.

Disclaimer 13. I have knit in public most recently last night at a concert with this phenomenal woman but absolutely not while she was singing. Unfortunately, some people who were knitting with their MOUTHS didn't show her the same good manners. Ahemmm

Disclaimer 14. I have been given knitting by dear ones and a total stranger. All have been warm and wonderful.

Disclaimer 15. I have said "You can't afford my time to knit what you want" more than once. That phrase is really code for "You are not that special in my life."

Disclaimer 16. I have knit wool, hemp, silk, seaweed, cotton, acrylic, and fishing line (boredom).

Despite the above, this is still not, in my mind, a knitting blog. Those of you who have ventured in via someone else's comments may have wondered what I was doing making comments on their or their friend's knitting blog when I apparently "Don't Knit". I do. I just don't write about it much as it is a simply a part of my life. My life which includes dealing with loss, grief, stepping-up-to-the-plate, writing, walking, working, staining the deck, caulking the dod-gasted sunroom and breathing.

Yeah.

Breathing

Still.

Me and Mike

2008-09-16T21:13:00.003-07:00

We rented this house before we bought it. While renters, we spent a lot of time discouraging would be buyers by pointing out that there weren't a lot of level or parallel lines in the house and "why yes, those were water stains around the skylights" so it wasn't as if we didn't know what we were getting into. We knew and we bought it anyway figuring the house was only five years old, that some things (unlevel drywall) could be lived with and others (leaking skylights) could be fixed in time. Hey! after living on the Coast in houses built pre- and post-WW II, it was a pleasure not to have to lay out a schwack of $$$ for insulation first thing and have the floors refinished second thing.

We took our time about the skylights: good old silicone sealant and The Sr Boy's fearlessness on roofs were a good (and inexpensive) combination but after the 2003 fire across the lake, it was definitely time to replace the cedar shingles (have I mentioned we live in an interface area??) and new skylights were installed to great delight and refinishing of the ceiling. (Ironical aside: the roofers did a rather poor tarp job before quitting for the weekend. Up came the black clouds and we had a torrential downpour: right through the tarp over the leaky old skylight. Sigh.....)

Those were the skylights on the north side of the house. We weren't really thinking about the south side because we didn't really have any. Well, except for the sunroom.

If you have visited us, you know the sunroom. It's the space at the end of the kitchen with the little table and rattan loveseat and chair where two or three (very cosily) can have coffee, read, knit (yeah, I'll get on to that in here one of these days....), do the crossword, nap, yack on the phone and, when it rains or snows then thaws, mop up water. I don't really know what the builder/owner was thinking when he put the "skylights" in over the sunroom. I do know that the designer/owner (aka his wife) was only in here two months before she was designing the next place. I've been in the next place: NO skylights, NO sunroom!!

The problems are, I think, that he used "windows" instead of real skylights and that he didn't know what he was doing. There are things one has to do to keep the rain from running into the house and I believe it is called caulking. This is an interesting process by which one applies some sort of caulking or sealant to the exterior so the rain cannot run through the 1/16" - 1/4" gaps caused by the inability of the builder to measure anything with any accuracy. After the first winter where in we discovered that there was some problem with the caulking (but it wasn't our problem because we were renting) not to mention with the lack of a cover over the vent in the sunroom (which was our problem because the snow fell through it onto The Jr Girl in her high chair), we bought the house.

Then we discovered the purpose of the framework over the deck outside the sunroom and the vent. This house faces due south. In the Okanagan Valley. Which gets (as they say in Newfoundland) right some jeezly hot in the summer. We were so busy hanging bamboo screens over all the windows and trying to sleep in the basement and bath the brand-new Jr Boy in the bathroom sink because it was Too Stinking Hot to sleep in our own beds, that we sort of forgot about the leaking sunroom. I think we really actually didn't believe winter would ever come again. Wrongo, as they say.

So, The Sr Boy got quite adept at patching up the caulking on the sunroom windows and I never paid any attention to how he did it or how often. I just knew that when I had to start mopping, there would be sighing, bundling up (if we'd missed the fall rain warning drips), getting out the ladder, the caulking gun and the scraper? exacto knife? magic wand?

And that's my problem: I can do the sighing, the bundling, the ladder, the gun (although we have one fewer as of 1755h this evening when even China's best couldn't withstand my mighty Pilates strength. Dammit) but I can't figure out how to get the old caulking all out of where it is no longer supposed to be because it ain't working anymore. So far, I have used a paring knife, an elderly exacto knife which lacked the 'exact' part, a wicked looking curved knife I found in TSB's tool belt, and my fingers. A lot of it is off/out but there is some that simply won't budge and the new caulking says "All surfaces must be clean, dry, and completely free of old caulking especially silicone." Well the dry is not a problem at the moment (stay tuned for the weather report...), clean is a bit problematic but manageable but what do I do about the old caulking??? The interwebs has been only moderately helpful, The Jr Boy is busy with other things, and I've got the window washer arriving at 0800h tomorrow!!! (Now you all know why the rush to get the caulking done, right?) Where is Mike Holmes when I need him???

Here's the plan: (1) the window washer gets a break: all the windows except the sunroom roof. (2) ask The Neighbour Who Knows About Stuff Like This to take a look. (3) listen to TNWKASLT's advice. (4) act on advice (if I like it). (5) continue to pry old caulking out while finishing the book-on-tape that I was listening to when Agnes and I had flying practice. (6) pray for continued good weather. (7) practice with caulking gun. (8) caulk up the dodgasted gaps. (9) rethink plan of buying an older place and consider designing and building a new house that looks old. (10) keep breathing.

Yeah.... that's manageable.....

Still breathing.

This Just In: Wayne the Dead Metal Guy is coming for the engine block tomorrow, too. Clean windows and gone engine block. O frabjous day!!

Beautiful View

2008-09-14T20:44:00.003-07:00

Buena Vista means, I think, beautiful view. What were the English thinking when they ignored such lovely Romantic possibilities as buena and bella and landed on "beautiful"? Who is ever going to name somewhere Beautiful View even if it is??

Buena Vista, CO lives up to the ads: it is much like our Columbia Valley - broad with farms in the bottom and steep peaks sawing the sky on either side. The only difference was the rather institutional looking buildings with tall pillar boxes along the outside perimeter. Hmmm... what is it about prisons that they all look like prisons?? This piece of local information was not included in the tourist brochure.

There is another kampground there and when I rolled in asking for a cabin (so I could spread my gear out and then sort it into the smallest possible space and avoid paying for an extra piece of luggage on the plane) I landed the one on the furthest western edge with nothing between the front porch and the fields far below but the neighbour's rocks with their No Trespassing signs attractively arrayed along the barbed wire. As I wasn't sure if the rocks belonged to an actual person neighbour or the actual prison neighbour, I decided to pay attention and enjoy the buena vista and my last beer from the porch while the chipmunk investigated and the sun slanted day's end.

Dinner. Did I "need" food or did I "want" food? The balance was tipped by the people in the koaoffice: a list of various places relatively enthusiastically spoken of and then "Well, there's that new place. What's is called? mmmmm.... Mothers." I'm thinking 'diner' until person #3 wades in. "Yeah, Mothers," says the guy, "but the food's mostly that vegetarian stuff and the portions aren't very big." His hand gesture indicates that, instead of the mound of food that is presented as normal in the youessofay, there might be only a half-mound.

Mothers was not as the people in the office advertised. Mothers was delightful and delicious and not vegetarian at all. The waitress poured me tastings of wine until we got the right match for my dinner and then took my dessert off when it was a too-sweet lemon tart. ("I never eat it for that same reason, " she said) The portions were beyond half-mound by a goodish bit. The koapeople are missing a good thing.

Drove back to the cabin and the glistening dark. Stars I haven't seen in years here in the light pollution: Antares and all of Scorpius, Sagittarius, Aquarius, Capricornus and the drift of the Milky Way.

Silence.

Breathing.

Still.

Further evidence of bone-headedness

2008-09-13T10:07:00.002-07:00

Apparently, I didn't notice that the comments' instructions were also in Italian when I set up the blog being all clever and using Italian because I was going there - was there (!) - three years ago, don'tcha know? Made it a bit challenging for the non parlo italiano among us, eh?

Fixed now.

Back to the deck.

Still breathing.

Why I am wearing ear muffs in September

2008-09-12T18:11:00.004-07:00

Blogger, you are on my S%$# List - this was much more entertaining before you LOST it.

I have a new piece of equipment and it is (thank you, Annemi) Waaaaanderful!! Actually, I don't have (as in "own") this piece of equipment but, thanks to My Good Friend, I have it (as in "on loan").

It is her 5" Random Orbit Sander and I am Sanding Wonderwoman! Actually, (I know that's the second one, stop counting!) My Good Friend is probably Sanding Wonderwoman because she has already sanded and painted her own deck but she's done for now so I am claiming the title.

The last time the deck was done was 2005. I seem to recall some excitement with a power washer and the use of a wire brush and a goodish bit of labour on the part of The Jr Girl's homme d'annee. No Sanding. I am sanding because (a) this is the last time I intend to paint the deck and (b) Certain People (you know who you are) were having such a good time that they didn't notice that the dodgasted candles had burned down and dripped wax all over the place and wax don't come out with no stinking power washer and wire brush. I've already had the power-washing done so I know about that and I hates wire brushes with the passion of forty steam rollers running over bagpipes (don't even think about getting all over me for that image: it will work for most people and for the rest of us who actually like Lagavulin, tatties and 'neeps, and haggis [which is really simply a fancy word for meatloaf/pate] as well as bagpipes, well, we are tough enough to cope with a bit of metaphor).

Ahem.... And, Sanding Wonderwoman 1.0 said, "It's easy."

She's keeeerect about easy: plug in, turn on, swoop along boards knocking off paint flakes, dirt, Candle Wax (grrrrrr), and the heads of nails, wear out a sanding pad, replace pad, countersink nails, repeat. So far, I've done 15 boards with 45 to go including the top of the picnic table. With a couple of days of decent weather, I may get done before winter.

Next up: Colour Choice. I'm leaning towards sky-blue pink but my Colour Consultant (aka The Jr Boy) will be by this weekend and I think he will be steering me towards a more "saleable" colour. Boring but better for marketing.

Still breathing (and wearing ear protection.)

I wish I could make this stuff up

2008-09-09T14:08:00.002-07:00

From a newspaper on a coffee shop table in CO (I'd link if I could):

Police Blotter
Aug 16, 9:39 p.m.

A 24-year-old man approached Sgt. XXX in the 400 block of West Main St. to make a report. The man stated that his ex-wife was supposed to leave pajamas for him on the hood of a truck in her driveway and that he was going to have someone pick up the pajamas for him so that he wouldn't be in violation of his restraining order. The man just wanted XXX to be aware of the situation.

Wouldn't you have thunk he'd have taken his jammies with him when he left???

This gem was followed by the same Sgt. dealing with a trailer full of "cow remains and producing a very foul smell..." that was going to be left until Monday as it was Sunday and "a responsible party could not be contacted".

Tough to be the residents of 200 Block North Grand Mesa Drive who were planning a bbq on Sunday night, eh?

Buena Vista will have to wait as I'm on a tear down in the basement. Anyone want any canning jars??

Still breathing.

Well that was interesting...

2008-09-07T11:17:00.003-07:00

For those of you who have nothing else to do but wait with bated (that is spelled correctly, thank you, it is the contraction for "abated" and has nothing to do with catching something with worms and a hook) breath for the next post, you may now start breathing. Do so deeply as there are SomeThings I Have To Tell You. Namely, that, although I am trying hard not to be a liar per se, I wasn't quite giving you all the facts over the last couple of weeks.

As you will recall, when you consider what was written, I made mention of "meeting up with and travelling with" dear friends. What got left out was the part that involved finding out about how effective properly worn, full seatbelts are; how long it takes to get a tow truck from Burley ID to nearly UT; that Agnes the faithful RAV is heading for the recycling yard; and, miraculously, the only part of me seriously hurt was my pride in my driving ability.

Words to remember: Trucker from TN on cell phone to 911: "Yes, she seems to be ok except for God sitting on her shoulder." State Trooper to me: "Ma'am, we usually take people out of these (type of accidents) in plastic bags." Me to State Trooper: "Maybe you should take my picture for your ad campaign about wearing seatbelts." (Neither seatbelt use nor motorcycle helmet wearing is mandatory in ID)

Suffice to say, I was badly shaken but the shock of inevitability kicked in and then The Cavalry (blessings upon Kathy and Robert and Ann and Tony) met me back in Burley, loaded everything from Agnes into boxes and bags, tucked me into A & T's 33' motorhome, and headed onwards. I spent the journey through the rally living in the lap of luxury: own swivel rocking chair with seatbelt (lots of knittage was completed while watching WY stream by), a/c, excellent food and drink, and my own pull-out bed. Robert was delighted to tell everyone the story and, by the end of the rally, I was being referred to as "RollieTwo" (you have to know about this man to get the joke) by a few cheeky people.

Then there was The Next Stage. The original plans had been for a leisurely trip through UT to places The Boys had visited followed by however I decided I wanted to drive home as long I was back before needing snow tires. (NB: there was new snow on the mountains of northern UT on the long weekend). The Junior Boy has pointed out that I do do project organization for big things very well but this didn't seem to have much "big" attached to it until I realized that I either continued to "live" with A & T (not quite their idea of a perfect holiday, I'm sure) until we got back to BC or I sorted myself out. After conversation with ICkyBiCky and a spell of time with the notebook and pen, I decided to rent a vehicle and spend a week in UT (how long would it take to see what I wanted to and get out, eh? I mean, it's a lot of rocks and limited access to good beer and coffee, right?) and then fly home from Denver.

On paper, this looked quite reasonable. It would mean sucking up and paying a lot of $$ for hotel/motel as there would be no sleeping in the back seat of the ordered sub-compact but I wasn't going to go to the effort of getting back anytime I could see so it was only The Oncet and I'd simply Do It. Cue: Godde Laughing. And the Democratic National Love-In. And the lack of prepped sub-compact. And, TA DAH!! Guess who ended up with a mid-size crossover SUV to drive at sub-compact rates??? Good thing I didn't hand over my koakampingkard to A & T for their homeward journey. Oh, and as if making amends for letting me have A Little Learning Experience, Fred (my guardian angel, I think) reminded me that ANother friend was driving his RAV4 home from the rally and had lots of space in the back. He lives about an hour away and was quite willing to haul my gear. I packed him up and off he went leaving me with a suitcase, a foamie and a sleeping bag.

The rest you know. For the record: I will go back there. I had a job offer (complete with free accommodation) as a warm body who would take direction well (stop laughing) was more precious than gold during the fall tourist season. There is something about those ancient rocks hewn by wind, water, plants, and, very occasionally, by humans, that is draws me deeply. Simply knowing that it is "there" is enough in the same way as knowing that the nuns sing vespers in Sacre Coeur, that blackberries ripen on Gabriola, that the Milky Way and Summer Triangle and Orion and Southern Cross are "there".

I'm home now and starting the New Vehicle Process again. I think it will be another RAV. I have the snow tires after all.

Remind me to tell you about Buena Vista.

Still breathing, gratefully.

The day after Labour Day

2008-09-02T08:52:00.003-07:00

Boulder Mountain Lodge is everything its publicity says: quiet (well until the upstairs elephants started at 0630h), a bird sanctuary, excellent bed, wonderful restaurant. I am rested, fed and ready for the turn north. Yesterday's road was a motorcyclist's best dream and a white-knuckle driver's worst nightmare. I stopped counting the hairpins. I also stopped looking over the non-guardrailed edges.

On this beautiful morning, I am wondering about the Anasazi people who built the village site I visited yesterday and which I can see from the lodge's upstairs balcony. Why did they leave and why did they burn the village? Lots of theories but no conclusive answers as they didn't leave any notes behind. Only speculation and the wind.

The sun is warm but the air is very cool - good for travelling.

And breathing. Still.

Labour Day, 2008

2008-09-01T10:29:00.003-07:00

It takes longer to get places when one's mouth is constantly gaping open at yet another fantastic view of landscape. All the pictures are true and then some. I know that if I lived here, I would become inured to the beauty in the same way I stopped noticing the "lovely flowers" along the train tracks in England's early May ("Do you mean the weeds on the embankments?" my cousin replied.) after several trips up to London. That said, I am still driving only about 300km/day and it's taking me most of the day to do that what with stops and looks and dawdling. I have an expanded understanding of the The Sr Boy and am trying not to be regretful for not knowing this sooner.

Things that have caught my attention:

Torrey, UT - (another of TSB's "places") is a tree-lined, funky motel/coffee shop/galleried widening in the road with a 3-way corner around which the motorcyclists buzz on their various rides: there is no "where" to go, simply to "go".

The thunderstorm two nights ago over top of the Richfield koakampground that lasted for about two hours with less than 6 seconds between every flash and crash. I cuddled up in the car with my $1 book sale book from Torrey for a fine dinner of Dead Horse beer, crackers, avocado (did you know they sell them ripe here? Guess it helps to be close to the source.), and homous.

Silence is possible even in a campground and it is wonderful and restful.

The ancient Fremont and current Hopi Indian culture is more creative than the US Hwys Dept. Some would say it wouldn't take much but who else would have thought of putting a seems-to-be-working curse on the "so sad, too bad" Hwy Dept?

Laundry will dry just not until the rain stops and then it will only take about 30 minutes in the wind.

Bryce Canyon may be wonderful but the 2nd coming will have fewer people milling about and trying to get sorted. Ruby's Inn may be an outpost of Hades for those of us who have about had it with humanity in quantity.

The colours of the rocks, their massiveness, the wear rubble at the bottoms of the escarpments are prodding at my theology. What can possibly be meant by "Always"? Buried under water for several gazillion years, now reared up and being worn away by wind and water to fall back into the ocean at some point - seedtime/harvest/seedtime/harvest/seed....

Music for this section of the journey: Garnet Rogers' Firefly (he'll be in BC in Oct) especially "Better Days" and "Redwing", Bach's Cello Concerti with Yo-Yo Ma, and Mozart's Clarinet concerti. This landscape seems to need instrumental music but I have the phenomenal Ruthie Foster and kd lang for just-in-case.

Tonight I'm staying here. Bath, nap, dinner, bed. A civilization break in the car-camping.

Still breathing and moving on with blessings for my journey.

98 degrees in the shade

2008-08-29T15:48:00.003-07:00

Green River, UT. Rolled into the koakampground at 1600h, stepped out of the vehicle and almost had to sit down. It's been a long time since I dealt with 98 degrees F in the shade. The host was really concerned that I might want to nap in the car right away. I was more concerned that they had no cold beer for sale.

This is spectacularly stark and spacious country. I think I will be getting up early to see the light on the edges. I kept thinking this town was much bigger as the cliffs on the west look like apartment buildings from a distance. The colours are everything from dried blood to platinum with hits of green at every little damp spot. I am "camped" near the Green River and hope that the mosquitoes will not be a trouble.

I am taking my time and stopping often. I have dipped my hand into the Colorado River in Colorado and watched the swallows swoop from their mud nests under the bridge at the rest stop where I did that. Also took a picture of a family that was driving non-stop from Louisiana to BYU to take their son (almost typed sun) to start school - they wanted as much of the background of Utah in it as possible. Mother was worried about how they looked as they had been 27 hours on the road. Father wasn't too concerned as they only had another 4 to go. The Brits from the rally would have been impressed!!!! I thought they were nuts.

Time to see if there is beer in this town. Richfield tomorrow, perhaps. There's a music festival at Moab and I may go there instead. Stay tuned but don't expect much 'til Tuesday as it's the long weekend.

Still breathing

Thursday report

2008-08-28T13:40:00.003-07:00

The last day of the rally and most everyone is off on a steam train ride that I decided not to take. I know that makes me some kind of a Philistine but after several days of motorcycle talk (when we are only 30 miles from the Democratic convention, I ask you??) I wasn't up for some hours of train talk, too. Besides, I needed to re-pack and re-think and re-cue myself for the next stage. After these days of a lot of people around me, I am ready to be on my own again for a bit.

The Inadvertent Potluck was so successful that a mini-version ran again last night complete with meat, beans, and beer that was rescued from the laid on BBQ lunch. Funny how there was no cake left over. The 'Muricans surely do l0o0ve their sweets! And it seems that we are getting older: we were all in bed by 2200h!!

Yesterday's adventure was driving to the end of the highest paved road in 'Murica: 14,130 feet. Yes, it was narrow, yes, it was winding, and yes, it was right some windy on the top. I travelled with dear friends from the UK who had taken The Sr Boy and I walking over the moors when we stayed with them and he kept exclaiming about how beautiful and magnificent it all was. She was more interested in the wildlife: mountain sheep, mountain goat, and marmots. I was most interested in the gaggle of bicycle riders who were right behind us at the park gate and some of whom arrived in the parking area at the top (14 miles of uphill) before we left! (We had been stopping for numerous photo ops - just like travelling with The Sr Boy!!) A few of them got away before we did and the downhill coast must have been amazing!!

Weather continues lovely: sunny with breezy days which trick one into believing that it is ok to go out without sunscreen (once) and cloud spattered canyon sunsets followed by stars that could almost be walked upon. I haven't checked the weather on the other side of the mountains yet. Fingers crossed for more of the same.

The "plans" for the next few days are a drive to places in Utah that both Sr and Jr Boys have been to and liked very much. It'll be koakamping for several nights with a blowout special treat at a lodge for one or two nights. The Sr Boy didn't get all that excited about accommodations but he brought home a brochure from this place from 2005's trip and they have space for me. I'm looking forward to a bit of sightseeing and some big sky.

Still breathing....

Colorado High

2008-08-26T12:40:00.003-07:00

Despite the way the topo map looks, I am firmly convinced that Colorado is rocky and mountainous, and, where I am, very high up. High enough that some people at this gathering are having a bit of trouble. I figured out that my brain and breathing weren't in synch this morning when I also figured out that my water intake was limited because it is also lovely and breezy. Didn't know I could drink 1.5 litres of water over an hour and still feel thirsty.

The journey has been "interesting". Due to a variety of circumstances (details for those of you who care when I get home), I ended up connecting last Friday with my friends who left a day behind me and travelling with them. What I thought was going to be my solo journey has become an adventure in living and travelling and sharing with others who have always been good acquaintends (that's the stage between acquaintances and friends) and with whom I am learning about some new definitions of friends and the ship they variously come in. We have discovered that food prepared together is always more tasty and that both G&T and beer (especially Bitch Creek from Idaho) tastes better when poured in company. What was going to be has been redefined and it is good.

The rally is well-organized (what else from an RO who is also a pilot for a major airline??) and there are lots of people here who know me and knew The Sr Boy. I am warmly welcomed and am collecting my year's supply of guy-hugs. Deciding to come and then getting here has been a good thing.

Yesterday was all about the marque being seen on the main street of another town about 8 miles away and a further 1,000 feet up. The winter population of Central City is about 300, the summer resident pop is almost doubled by the opera company that starts its season on 10 June and finishes on 10 August. The lady in the museum said if people didn't make their money then, it was a loooonnnnggg slog until the next June! The opera house seats over 500 and they sold out every performance of Bernstein's "West Side Story" and many of Britten's "The Rape of Lucretia" and ???'s "Susannah". Bus companies run opera specific tours. To Central City, CO. Who knew??

The show was followed by a run down to Clive Cussler's car museum on some lovely m/c roads. I am not going to bother with the linkage as you either know about him or don't care. The restoration work was amazing and, of course, not being in the habit, I'd left the camera behind. Mr. C. himself arrived late in the afternoon in a very nice E-type Jaguar and chatted with a few of the owners. At least, I think it was him: the face looked like all the dust jackets but the tummy was a bit unexpected!! My best moment, though, was when one of the restoration team came out to look over the bikes and quietly said to me that his favourite was the one that "looked like it had been used and ridden." I think our friend Bill has ridden that bike all over North America, Australia (twice?), New Zealand, and Europe. Despite being the most unassuming and laid-back fellow, he was tickled when I passed on the comment.

Today is a bit quieter right up until about 1700h when the ramp up for the Inadvertent Vancouver Section Potluck Dinner will begin. We were going to have only the Brits but apparently the Brits think that they won the War of Independence and we have gone from a "nice group" of about 15 to a group of ???. I have resorted to telling anyone who asks me about the shindig: "If you are male, you are responsible for a protein main course. If you are another sex, bring salad or dessert. Booze does not count as protein!" (These handy Potluck Planning Tips are provided by Yours Truly as organizer of several of these impromptu events - what is it about some motorcycling men that they think that food will magickly fall onto their plates if all they do is show up???) Ahem.....

And as for those guys who think it is OK to roll their bikes down from the hotel parking lot to the campground to start them before 0800??? You get membership in the EMAC*!!

Quick weather report: mostly sunny during the day with late afternoon thunderclouds piling up with occasional blasts of rain. Apparently, there have been snow flurries already and the pass from Denver west to Idaho Springs has a sign advising truckers to carry chains from September to May. Doesn't leave much time for wear and tear on the summer tires, eh??

That's where things are at the moment. I am writing this in the lovely library in the children's section. My life is so boring that all of the sites I wanted to look at were allowed! I am off to check out the TommyKnocker Brew Pub for a possible tour and tasting and then a siesta before the onslaught.

Still breathing and drinking lots of water.

* Early Morning Arses Club

One more thing: is it wrong that I want to dig up the plants in the rest areas that are growing wild and that cost me $5.00/pot at the nursery?

And another thing: antelope really do play!

Pre-gadding

2008-08-11T10:42:00.003-07:00

Monday is a good day to get started (again). To update: I made it home with my badly bruised foot and have spent about a week of hobbling about alternated with sitting (with foot elevated) knitting and not dealing with the accumulated detritus of the years (sounds very impressive, no?) which was what I was supposed to be doing before gadding off. So today is the restart which so far involves swigging down 1.5 espressos from the machine of Christmas '96??, continuing knitting on the "can I invent a pattern for a tank and get it finished by this weekend?" and working out one Sudoku and a bit of the weekend cryptic. Not too promising on the dejunking but there is a subtle plan and there are empty boxes.

The gadding? Two parts: Part One: Driving to Colorado solo. About 5,000 km round-trip when the side trips are figured in. Taking in the Vincent North American Rally and seeing some dear friends. Driving long distances to places The Sr Boy loved and wanted to show me and going to an event we would have gone to together so there will be a lot of "how are you doing?" which I am getting better at answering. (Have misplaced my Summer of '06 t-shirt design the children promised to make me that was to say "How the f&*% do you think I'm doing???". They didn't get their "Dead Dad's Club Member" shirts done either.) The lovely thing about motorcyclists is that they use real language ("What a bugger!" comes to mind) for this continued unreality.

Part Two: Return to Italy. Lots more km round-trip and seeing places I loved and wanted to show The Sr Boy. An anniversary trip. No t-shirts, maybe something leather again. Never occurred to us that the separate celebrations in '05 were actually the first of the rest of them. Venice for sure, Florence for maybe. Open to accommodation suggestions and possible companions. Any takers? Of course, I have to get some flights booked and other mundane details but October looks good.

Meanwhile, there is the siren call of empty boxes and garbage day.

Still breathing.

Poppa's raccoons? Still digging up the grass but now the owl is back and the balance of nature may be re-establishing itself. The kit was re-located and the trap put into the storage shed. Neither of us could stand that squalling again.

Further adventures

2008-07-30T11:48:00.002-07:00

We have a problem here at chez Poppa. Perhaps several. They are called "raccoons" and they have been feeding voraciously on the crane fly larvae that live in his overwatered lawn. Feeding voraciously looks something like this only without the tree in the middle and Poppa is not amused. Not amused looks like this and a can of smoked oysters which all very well until a raccoon gets into the trap and the raccoon is not the destructive "I need to feed my kits" mother 'coon. Nope, we done caught us a baby and it is not happy. Think hoarse squalling until it is exhausted and falls asleep. Think Mama Coon coming round and saying, "sorry, Junior, I can't get you out of that so you're on your own."

Damn. This is one time my brother would be useful - he doesn't have a soft-touch bone in his body about things like this and he's at work out of town for the next few days. Poppa and I are having a debate about relocation (not a good idea for the raccoon according to research). He wants to take it to an island (ummm, that would be a $30.00 ferry trip) for relocation. I want to deal with the crane fly larvae and let coons be. I think I won't win this round but he might see reason when he does the math (1 mama + 4-7 kits X $30.00/ferry trip = $150.00 - $240.00 + gas).

Meanwhile, I am knitting socks with my foot up listening to squalling.

And still breathing.

Things I didn't know this time last week....

2008-07-27T16:33:00.002-07:00

1. It is more aerobic to go upstairs than down but down is faster especially if falling.
2. It is possible to drive oneself to the ER with a damaged R foot. Possible but not pleasant.
3. According to the staff member who fitted me for crutches, I am 5'2" tall. Seems I have grown a couple of inches in the past week.
3.1 Crutches are useful but awkward.
4. And one's armpits get really, really sore.
5. A toilet immediately beside the sink works well for balancing one's foot while brushing one's teeth.
6. Carrying a martini glass while on crutches is not impossible although it does require some rethinking about "carrying" and "glass".

Further:
7. X-rays can be difficult to read and even doctors don't agree (although I knew the latter years ago) on what they say.
7.1 Trusting one's own intuition is a good idea.
7.2 RICE works.
8. Crutches will make excellent garden ornaments ( Climbing roses? Anti-deer fence?) when this is all done as one no longer rents them but buys them outright.

Still breathing and weight bearing gently....

Quibble(s) of the day

2008-07-13T08:48:00.002-07:00

People (especially those of you interviewing on CeeBeeCee Raydeeoh): the word is NOVEL not "chapter book".

And as for the rest of you: the word is SNEAKED not "snuck"! (as in: peaked not puck, leaked not luck, feaked not... well you know).

This quibble break brought to you by the daughter of the woman who also didn't do "kids" as children or "guys" as anything but wires. I miss you, Mum.

The view out the windows

2008-07-10T08:07:00.002-07:00

for the past week has been somewhat limited (or expanded depending on point of view) due to the joyousness of having the house painted. The limitation is because there is brown paper and masking tape over all the windows prior to spraying - I feel like the inside of a parcel. The expansion is due to the eye candy that is the painter who has no fear of heights which is a good thing given the design of this house. The Sr Boy was the same: he actually constructed and used a 10 foot bolt-on addition to our extension ladder so he could deal with the house. The Juniors seem to have acquired the appropriate gene for ladders and it sure wasn't from me. I don't do heights on wiggly ladders. Heights on solid ground? Yes. Heights that sway? No. Thus, the painter. I could have done it but the colour would have been emesis rather than the lovely one it is and I would still be on wall #1. This guy will be done by next week.

For those who are colour adamant: it's green. With cream trim.

In knitting news: this skirt and this yarn in colour Foggy. At the moment, the skirt looks sort like an old kersey jacket (or elderly Stanfields) but I am assured that ferocious blocking will improve things. Next time I use this yarn, I will give the skeins a soak/conditioner treatment before winding it off in 'opes of avoiding giving myself knitters' elbow trying to get the project done before The Next Adventure. The big question is, "Will it be finished by Sunday morning?" Stay tuned.

The inertia of the last several months is slowly lifting and there are small movements forward: more piano practice, more bags of someone-else-will-want-this going out the door, tiny corners of order created. The shredder is my new favourite tool. Along with the skill saw which I learned to use when my father was last here and which is still on the kitchen floor. Guess that's the next corner of order.

Still breathing.....

Bench-racing, Bootles and KIP

2008-06-16T14:40:00.003-07:00

So: where did you KIP on Saturday? KIP? You know: Knit In Public??? I don't remember where I KIP last year: it may have been at work but the year before is indelible: ICU at KGH and it was right before I yelled at the anaesthesiologist, the orthopod, and the respirologist about the lack of co-ordination in my Darling Man's care. Cutbacks in hospital care dollars, I hates 'em!!

So... where was I KIP on Saturday? At a gathering of the motorcycle tribe known as "The Not Mara Lake Rally" held this year in beautiful Crawford Bay, BC (home of this and this and this) as well as being on one of the most beatiful motorcycling roads in the province. (don't click on the link if you get motion sick!) This particular branch of the tribe of motorcyclists is a bit out there: average age is getting closer to that of pensioner, the newest of the bikes was born in 1955 which makes for lots of possibilities for things to go amiss due the vagaries of age (humans and machines having that commonality). The Sr Boy had his share of "amisses" and our machine provided lots of parking lot mechanic opportunities and subsequent stories over the years.

That was not my job this year: Agnes-the-RAV being a well-behaved 4-wheeler and 50 years younger was quite useful for sheltering people from the Friday downpour and portering back the guts and garters of an engine on its way to the Wizards of Wancouver who will work their particular brand of make-it-go magic upon it. I came home with some +mas pressies (!!!), some amazing bread, triple cream brie and a bottle of Bootles gin. And two socks to the start of the heel.

Here's the thing about using the beautiful wooden Brittany needles size 2.25mm: they will, if bent beyond optimum, break. I am now down to seven needles which is a perfect number for going around and around and around on two socks alternately. Heel flaps are also manageable but require some focus which tends to get a bit lost when drinking Bootles and listening to the bench-racing stories. Hence: two socks ready to go on the heel flaps. Not bad for a weekend of motorcycling, eh?

Music for the journey: Down at the Fair by these women. Watch out for track 7....

Still breathing....

It's raining, it's pouring...

2008-06-09T17:26:00.002-07:00

and my new Christmas jacket is as advertised. Yahoo! and also Hooray!! as there has had to be serious planting at The Poppa's house.

I grew up on the Island. I am used to, and even like, rain. I don't like being wet. When I came down in November to hang out with #2 Nephew, I realized that, after 23 years, my outdoor wardrobe was no longer Island-able. Wool jackets are great in the dry snow of the Interior but smell like wet sheep (in a bad way if one's jacket was made in Russia as this one was) and weigh about ten additional kilos when exposed to a proper West Coast rain. The beach walks I had looked forward to went from several to one because not only did it rain, it also snowed West Coast snow and then froze. It was an interesting time. Side note: Agnes and I were apparently the only ones out with proper snow/winter tires as we were not in the ditch and not all over the road. The Interior is good for some things such as winter preparedness and wine. And peaches. And summer nights with the nighthawks zinging by like bullets and sleeping under sweet nothing because it's "too darn hot....."

Ahem... the jacket works and the annual beds are planted and the Digitalis purpurea I have been sneaking into my father's garden (he's not fussy about them having used them as wasp traps as a kid until he and the wasps found out that stingers worked through flower trumpets) are quietly filling in corners of the perennial bed my mother and I made out of the old veggie garden (and a *%$$ of a lot of grunt work). The sage plant that used to anchor the "new" (circa 1980) herb bed has finally given up the ghost and I was charged with getting a new one because, according to Poppa, there has to be sage for Christmas. He now has two varieties which are planted in the midst of the burgeoning parsley bed. I didn't know parsley would make a bed but if one doesn't keep ahead of it and lets it go to seed, it will make a bed and then one has to dig up perfectly good parsley plants (I could have done quite well at the farmers's market - hmmm, wondering: is that a market of farmers or for farmers??? - if I were going to be here. Don't grief me out about the "s's" - I like it and it's my writing place. If you want to write your own and slag me off, go right ahead.) and (just in case you thought I'd forgotten what I was doing here) repot, replant or sling 'em onto the compost just so there will be sage for stuffing at Christmas. All you East Coasters who do savory can stop rolling about laughing!

So: it's June, the annuals are planted, the fuchsia basket for my mum is done. It sure won't look like the link for a while but I remembered the colours from my childhood and sneakily squeezing the flowers to pop them open... I know.... I was peculiar... but I put it to you: put an eight year old in front of a fuchsia - do you know how hard that word is to type???? - plant and there will be blossom squeezing just to see the pop!

And it's raining. Everything here is blooming late, late, late and I will be taking home (in JUNE mind you) an armload of paeonies to fill up the house with the scent and lusciousness that they are. My grandfather's "pinks" - the ones my mother, his daughter-in-law moved twice, will be blooming for my father when he comes back on Friday. Nobody left knows where the columbines came from but they are present as are the daylilies and iris Mum and I replanted in 2000. The crocosmia Dad and I bought at the market almost two years ago on the Saturday between her death and funeral has about a zillion new shoots. I think she will be pleased. The Sr Boy is glad he is not here in the rain.

There are so many different colours of green out this window.

Still breathing......