All 9 Muses

I miss knitting

2011-03-31T16:02:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone,

This post is from galloping horseback! If you haven't been following my chaos from Facebook, I am putting my house up for sale and to do that I am painting and fixing up what I can. That means that instead of having knitting needles and yarn in my hands for the past month, I have had trowels, sandpaper and paint brushes.

I'll soon be in fine form to move outside to work in the gardens, but there's more painting to go before I get to that.

Bear with me. I promise I'll be back.
Jen

Sunny Days

2011-02-18T16:14:00.008-05:00

Today has been a marvellous day. Not only is the light finally returning to our northern skies, but today has been sunny and WARM. Like 14 degrees above zero warm. Astounding. I threw open the windows for a while are shocked all the spiders who I'm sure were hanging on with all eight legs as they swung in the breeze. I know this because I've been picking up bits of web ever since.

It took me a little longer to get back to you about the Gathering Sunlight socks for a couple of reasons. A couple of different Muses came rampaging in and left the place a bit of a mess. My Writing Muse arrived unannounced and declared a 2 day writing and editing spate on a book I've been working on since I was 13 years old. This threw off all sorts of things like tidying up after myself and eating. I'm talking about 9 hours at the compute desk at a stretch. (And judging from how my body felt, there wasn't enough of that going on either!).

And when she decided it was time to go, again unannounced, I found myself left with a head cold and very little will to do much of anything at all!

So, it was after this had all passed that I started to write the pattern for my new socks, which, by the way, were warmly accepted and I believe they've been worn just about every chance the recipient has had to wear them.

Now, to write a sock pattern is a series of interesting bits and pieces. The cuff isn't the standard 1x1 or 2x2 ribbing. Not for these socks. The cuff is the foundation for the pattern that follows, so a whole paragraph is dedicated to it instead of a line. Then the pattern is a great back and forth of increases and decreases that create a multitude of little suns marching up (or down if your suns are setting and not rising!) the leg and top of the foot.

I purposely chose to use very simple increases and decreases for this because I wanted it to be easy to memorize and fun to knit. And the balls do slide diagonally around the leg instead of forming lines and phalanxes down the leg. (It's not every day you get to put "phalanx" in a blog post!)

So once you get churning out the pattern down the leg, then you have to get other people through the heel portion of the sock. This is pure voodoo magic. To take a single piece of yarn and change directions 90 degrees so that you can continue down the foot. Amazing. Stunning. And downright confusing as Hell until you've made about 20 pairs of socks.

So then once the heel is done, all is good until you want to finish your sock off. The explanation for the toe is a piece of cake after navigating through the heel stitches. But if you've never done one before, you're back into uncharted territory!

So all in all, socks are super fun to knit, but they take a whole heap of words to explain.
All that said, I hope you like the pattern. It's available for $5.00 CAD at my Ravelry store. If you're a member of Ravlery, you can just click here and see for yourself.

Inside Out Surprise Neck Warmer

2011-01-16T19:56:00.005-05:00

I have posted my first pattern for sale on Ravelry. The Inside Out Surprise Neck Warmer was an excellent gift knit for many people this Christmas. When I first knit it, I was super surprised that when I turned it inside out, I liked the pattern on the inside even more than the one on the outside. You get to pick which one is right for you. All the details about this design are available on Ravelry.

It is on sale for $5.00.

Mindfulness in Knitting

2011-01-14T09:18:00.004-05:00

It seems I’ve always made gifts for friends. I remember when money was tight just after graduating from university, I went to White Rose (does anyone else remember them?) and bought materials for stencilling Celtic designs onto t shirts for everyone to have for Christmas. That meant buying the paints and brushes, the plastic material to carefully cut out the intricate patterns I was taking from a Celtic colouring book.

I worked for hours over a couple of weeks on those shirts. Painstakingly smoothing out the fabric and sweating over the way the paint spread into the fibres of the cloth. Mostly, I thought about each person as I worked on their design. You see, I didn’t just make one stencil and use it for everyone. There we a number of couples who would receive these gifts. They were people who were really close to me and it mattered that they each had something that spoke of their interested and desires. I know that sounds funny, but the more personal a gift is, the more it will be appreciated and how much it cost is immaterial when you have put heart into the making.

Over the years I have practised the art of mindfulness in each of the items I have made. Every Christmas, the gift basket fills up with things just waiting for an owner to come and claim them. I don’t just think about any one person while I’m stitching away on them (unless I know the gift will find one particular person and sometimes the gifts choose who they should be going to all on their own) but I do think positive, warm and loving thoughts as I make each stitch. I like to think I am imbuing the article of clothing with the warmth of love and that when the person wears the hat/scarf/mitts/socks that I’ve picked just for them, they’ll be warmer and remember they are loved no matter what is going on in their lives when they wear them.

The socks I’m working on right now are very special socks. A couple of years ago, I designed some socks for a night at the Ottawa Knitting Guild. It was for one of their mid-winter challenges. I don’t know about you, but once the Christmas rush is over, I like to pick up sunny, happy yellows and oranges and greens to help me remember that the light is returning and eventually the snow will melt and be replaced by lush green grass. So I knit sunny stuff in the darkest time of the year. Thus it was with these socks. And as I knit them, I told people that I was knitting back the sun with every stitch.

This statement captured the heart of one of my friends and when the socks were finished, they went to her and she has worn them just about every day after working on her feet and putting up with way too much. She calls them her comfort socks. She says they make her feel safe and warm and loved, so I think the little bit of white magic must have worked because I put love and warmth in them.

This friend of mine turned 60 in December, right smack in the middle of Christmas Knitting Hell Chaos. I asked her what she’d like from the gift basket, thinking a nice neck warmer would be perfect, but she told me her Comfort Socks were in sorry shape from so much loving. They’ve practically become furry they’ve been worn in so many slippers and tucked into bed so often. So I started to make her a new pair of sunny comfort socks.

They are knit with Turtlepurl sock yarn in the colourway Koi and they’ll be done this weekend. I’m writing up the pattern and will have it for sale on Ravelry. I’ll let you know here and on my website when the pattern is ready. For now, this is what they look like.

So my question for you is this: when you knit gifts, do you put love and well-being into your stitches, and if you do, do you think your recipients can feel it?

New Website

2011-01-07T13:41:00.004-05:00

Hi everyone,

I have launched the All 9 Muses website where you will be able to see my new designs as I get them posted to Ravelry. If you would like to go straight to Ravelry to see what I'm up to, my username is All-9-Muses. I have one posted already for free. Actually, until recently, you could get it here, but now it is available as a down-loadable pdf. More will be posted soon. I feel the need to knit socks and arm warmers this winter in anticipation of Spring!

I will be posting from here again as I was unable to integrate a blog into my website. Cross-references will be available at each site. I hope you'll visit often to see what I'm up to now. There's lots to hear about.

Hanging

2010-02-13T14:25:00.002-05:00

Since the last time I posted, that's what I've left you doing...Hanging. Waiting to hear the next intake of breath to learn what I've been up to.

Sorry about that. Know that it's been for the best possible reasons. I've been a bit caught up in living! Head down, nose to the grind stone, living life large. That kind of living.

Since my last post, I've been to the Prime Minister's house to play and sing. I've been celebrating with the band the release of Corkery Road's very first professionally recorded, mixed and mastered CD, I Rowed Up In A Dory. I've been on TV, helping Ottawa's /A\ Channel celebrate Robbie Burns Day (which is now on YouTube and the link will take you to the Band page that has both links to the videos).

We're gearing up for CD release parties in April. I'll tell you a bit more about that later. Oh and we have this little bit in March called Paddy's Day! So far we have 4 gigs booked between the 13th and the 17th and possibly one more on the 18th.

CR has also joined Festivals and Events Ontario so we hope that will mean you'll have the opportunity to come out and see us at different festivals over the summer months.

Oh and I've started looking after the Corkery Road website. Now I'm a web goddess at home and work!

The other group I'm in, Sounds Sweet, is working up a storm. We're setting up a web page (to be announced) and gathering some marketing material including an indie demo cd. When I figure out how to post links to those, I'll let you know.

So in case you've wondered why it is I never write, it's because I'm usually falling over from living this life so large.

Lots more to share. Someday I'll get my photos organized so I can share some of the awesome stuff last year had for me.

FYI I've also joined in again on the Knitting Olympics. Cast on for a top down sweater last night. 16 days to go! I'll post photos of that too.

I'll be back. No promises on when, but soon I hope.
xo
Jen

Reintegration

2009-12-01T22:58:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since Corkery Road played in Orleans on that cold April night. Since that time the Muses and I have been on a merry road trip for the last 8 months and it doesn't show signs of coming to an end any time soon.

I've been indulging in new vistas; sampling new experiences; learning lots of new things. I've been enjoying the company of friends and family. I've been working very hard to simplify and better organize my life to make my time more enjoyable and calm. To strive at living calmer is an interesting contradiction. While there has been a lot of clutter to clear away, both in the house (which has taken a lot of sweat) and in my mind which has taken just as much or more effort, it has been worth my pains.

While I haven't lessened the number of interests I have or the diverse obligations and activities I continue to honour, I have sought to be true to the most important things in life. I am living largely by the following tenants:

People before things.
Work before play.
Play before cleaning.

Eureka!

This, of course, has meant spending an amount of assessing what is important to me. I'm quite sure there are people who go through large chunks of their lives without going through this difficult and sometimes painful process. I'm not sure if I am jealous of them or if I pity them.

It is a difficult task because there are a multitude of things I could be doing with my precious time and with an infinite number of people. Beyond the chattering and railing of the 9 Muses, there are my beautiful children, friends, family, music, work, continuing education. There are bandwidths I have retreated to when I have been hurt or confused. Good for immobilization when I needed the time to become ready to make a shift. To become willing to make a much needed change. When I have needed to fortify myself in order to let something go.

It has been difficult because no matter how hard I have tried to bend the time/space continuum so that I could do all the things I'd like to do, I just can't do it. And this has lead to a process of grieving for the things that must be postponed, shelved, and abandoned. Fighting that frustration has been futile and has used up so much of my energy.

Getting a hold of my activities and trimming the active list while honouring the postponed list has been largely a background activity, but the efforts have metted out more of an ability to enjoy the things I can do. The main goal is to live my life free of guilt for the things that cannot be.

This has been the main reason why blogging has taken a back seat for lo these many moons. I've been living my life, not documenting it. A dear friend of mine cautioned me about taking so many pictures of things around me that I neglect to actually live the stuff. Well, I can't say I'm done my grieving for things lost or unattainable.

In the words of Dolly Parton, "I grieved long and hard about my decision. But I've never once regretted it." If I have been absent from this place for a time, it has not been wasted. I cannot say what the nature of the things I may share with you here. There may be things you do not want to see or hear. I ask you to choose for yourself what you will find worthy of taking away from the time you spend with me here. I would ask that you share your views with me if you wish to do so. I have felt in the past that I was just one voice speaking into the void. Since taking my sabbatical from this place, I have been gently reminded that I have a readership. That there are people who have enjoyed the things I have had to say. To you, I say thank you for your support and laughter. You know well who you are.

I think I'm finally ready to share.

Stay tuned.

Corkery Road and Other Stuff

2009-04-09T11:44:00.011-04:00

Corkery Road had a smashing good time at Darcy McGees out in Orleans last weekend. The crowd was awesome and people were dancing up at storm until after 1 am. They wouldn't let us pack up without two much begged-for encores. Fantastic. Here's how we looked.

I think we look pretty freaking happy, myself.

See, there really were people up dancing. One woman from the East Coast got several people up. There was no choice whatsoever in the matter. She was like a tidal force. Even Charlie got caught by her.

It was a long night, but we are looking forward to going back there again.

Mother Nature shows her fickleness

We have had significant changes in weather in the last couple of weeks. We completely enjoyed the warm sun and cool nights, good sap running weather during which the girls and popped out to Lewis and Annabelle's to see their Sugaring Off process. And before we left for other adventures, Calla and Fiona and I caught picture of this summer time denizen.

Yes, that is the first butterfly of the season.

And then in a nice constrast and still in keeping with the whole nature theme, this was the scene on Tuesday looking out the front window of the house.

Snow. And big fluffy hunks of it (it is gone now) and it really messed Beaver up. The river has been high and lovely to listen to from my bedroom window. I'm sure Beaver is thinking that he may have gotten up a bit early and left the lodge too soon.

Finished Yarn Object

Despite rumours to the contrary, my arthritis has not stopped yarn or knitted item production. I may have slowed down a bit, but that has more to do with the other things I'm doing in my life (like banging a drum). I joined in a Knit-a-long (surreptitiously, of course). The Yarnarian's Mitred Scarf had me completely smitten. I put down my sock in progress (which is now done) and picked up some Noro Cashmere Island (I don't have it with me and don't know the colourway number) and completely obsessed on this baby. The result hasn't even been washed or blocked and I'm not sorry about that. It's lovely and soft and has bright colours and I am in love. Lookee, lookee!

Climbing Vines

2009-04-03T15:35:00.003-04:00

This sweater comes from Interweave Knits Winter 2008. I cast is on within a week of receiving my magazine. Here are the particulars:

Designed by: Joëlle Meier Rioux

Knit in Briggs and Little worsted (blue no dye lot, from out of the awesome bargain bin at the mill)

Started Dec 8 Finished Jan 5

Mods: lengthened sleeves.

Comments: Fun to knit. Lots of easy panels with just a bit of interesting lace to keep the mind occupied. Knit 3 arms due to not paying attention which needle I started for the cuff (started with the larger size and went to the smaller, ugh!)

Enjoying wearing it immensely.

Not your average “To Do” list

2009-03-26T15:38:00.001-04:00

This one’s for you as much as it is for me…

1. Respect yourself
2. Put your well-being first
3. Make some quiet time
4. Take more bubble baths
5. Knit/spin more (OK, that one might just be for me)
6. Bake something sinful
7. Get out your paints
8. Do something you’ve never done before
9. Sleep more
10. Surround yourself with beauty
11. Put your own pictures on the wall
12. Indulge more in laughter
13. Make wishes
14. Talk to your friends more
15. Eat well
16. Take more photos
17. Think of 5 things you are grateful for
18. Hug your family and friends more
19. Stop asking for permission
20. Breathe in all the way

Did you ever have one of those days?

2009-03-24T16:37:00.000-04:00

When I was about 12 or 13, I started to write all sorts of stories. I wrote a ghost story about my school being haunted. I did scary stories about the woods and conservation areas near my home. I tried my hand at a horror story about a field trip. (Just as a little tip, co-students get pretty freaked out by being killed off in stories. Don’t worry, it was just a phase.) I wrote some fantasy fiction. In fact, I’m still writing some fantasy fiction that sprang up at that time. When short stories become novellas and bloom in to novels, they take a lot of percolating to get them done. It’s like knitting an afghan. I digress.

I wrote hilarious little bits too. There’s one story in my accordion folder that details a crazy camping trip during which my dad crawls into his sleeping bag to find a snake had also thought it a good place to sleep. Total fiction. Never happened. Of course, the description of him screaming like a girl…I couldn’t make that up. Ah, good times.

I also delighted in making up “The Worst Day Ever” scenarios. You know the type: woke up late because the alarm wasn’t set—cold shower—burnt toast—spilled coffee—no gas in car—seriously late for work—miss meeting—catch shit, etc.

This morning was a bit like that. For one blistering hour, I could not seem to get us up, dressed fed and out of the house in a reasonable amount of time. Obstacles just kept leaping up, making it impossible to do simple things. One step forward, one giant leap back.

Fiona was slow getting out of bed. She couldn’t fine the pants she wanted to wear. We’ve all been there. It sucks when you can’t find the pants you wanted (usually because they are standing up all by themselves in the laundry hamper). Then we hunted for a suitable shirt. Found one, but had to cut the tag out downstairs.

Meanwhile Calla is getting the table set (bless that child) so that she could change her mind about toast after it was toasting and had to get a hold of herself under the table before she could settle on rice krispies.

I got the milk in the microwave for hot chocolate. Fiona insisted on picking her own cup and whatever you do, don’t touch the lid. She’s taking care of all that. 4 year olds and their push-pull of “I can/can’t do that! “ I pour the milk before anyone says they want to. Turn around to get the chocolate syrup and hear, “Uh-oh” and “Oh no” simultaneously. A whole cup of hot milk has spilled all over the table, the chair, the floor and Fiona (in her chosen pants). Had to strip her down, get some towels strategically placed for the mopping up, more milk in the microwave to replace the cup that spilled. Oh, and find other pants.

It’s like being a finely tuned juggling machine some days.

And then for no reason I can tell, the cat barfed up her breakfast right beside the table.

Now, most of my previous cats were private pukers. You know the type. Off somewhere in the night when you sort of wake up to that sound. No idea where the cat is. No real sense in looking for it until you’re armed with daylight. Or the cat that barfs up bug bits while you’re at school or work, but does it in a place you’re sure to find…with your be-socked foot…while you’re just about to turn on a light. Yep, that memory is never going away no matter how much therapy I get.

This one is not fussy.

Back to breakfast, just the right amount of milk had to be poured into Calla’s Raisin Bran…enough to cover it. You know that stuff floats, right. Discussion ensued. Then it was too mushy because of all the milk. Tough.

Made coffee. Made my lunch. Navigated dishes into the sink for later. Brushed hair. Brushed teeth. Had to negotiate outdoor clothing, because the sun was shining but the wind still has meat hooks in it and will rip the flesh from little children. Caught shit because I was putting on my vest instead of my heavy winter coat. I was putting on my windproof over it. Timing is everything and you just don’t get it until your older. Kids just have no patience.

Then, we had to race upstairs for a sleep toy. They nap at daycare. Fiona likes to have a friend to sleep with. Hey, who am I to argue with that kind of thinking? She brought three. We negotiate down to one which she then leaves inside the house.

I had to go back into the house 3 times before I started the car. Each time I had to bodily block the cat who was throwing herself at the door like some depraved escape artist.

But in the end I finally managed to get away from the house with my coffee, my lunch, both children and a shred of my sanity. And there is the hope that tomorrow will be better. At least I hope we can avoid the barf. Really, isn’t that all we can ask in a day?

Welcome to the family

2009-02-04T11:20:00.004-05:00

On January 2nd, the girls and I invited a new family member into the home.

Caitlin is an 8 lbs brown tabby who likes to talk, play with her many, many toys, and is quickly perfecting the skill of darting between your feet as you walk anywhere near her food or her bowls.

She enjoys climbing into the linen closet and cabinet and pulling down as much as possible to insert herself into the smallest space available. She also likes running through the house with one of the children's slippers in her mouth, while meowing at the top of her voice.

She enjoys quiet nights, sitting on the couch being petted. She purrs like a machine. Her favorite spot to sleep is on my bed, but if either of the girls gets up in the night and sleeps in my room, she toddles off to sleep with the one who was left behind.

She's been in every nook and cranny in the house (except the attic) and is now actively listening to the mice, scheming about how to capture them.

Now, if I could just get her to stop drinking out of the fish bowl, she could get on with her obvious designs for World Domination.

In the Back in the Saddle

2009-01-26T12:46:00.020-05:00

Well it’s been 2 months since I wrote. Most of you already know that Bruce and I have parted ways and it has taken me a while to recover from this ending. Now we are into the new year and I am looking forward and calling upon my closest friends to lend a hand when necessary and getting things done.

This weekend we tackled a huge portion of the on-going kitchen reno. A big thanks to Nicola, Gord, John, Charlie, Dad and Christine for all their labour.

Nicola and I started on Thursday night by clearing out a couple of free standing cupboards, moving them out into their new homes in the pantry and the living room and vacuuming up an astonishing collection of dust bunnies.

Saturday morning dawned crisp (-20 deg C) and clear. I whipped together a chili and started some broccoli soup. I am a firm believer that if you are going to wear out your friends, you’d better be able to feed them too. Dad and Christine arrived in time for coffee and we cleared out the table and chairs, shoved things to the perimiter of the play room (to bring in the cupboards from the barn) and shovelled a clear path for bringing them in. We also had to use the hairdryer to get one of the barn door locks off.

Gord and John arrived and they and Dad started to tackle the remaining demolishion on one cupboard. (When Nicola and I tore out the big pantry cupboard in October or November, it took us 2 solid hours of female angst to tear it out. The guys had their cupboard off the wall in 20 minutes. Lesson learned: men do demolishion better.)

(This was really hard work, and this is how happy I was to have the new cupboard in.)First we had to rip out the cupboard that was where the paint changes to the colour I like to call "Rock of Ages" and then the buttler sink had to go. Anyone want to buy an awesome old sink?Then we took the heat vent that had a remarkable U (see where the paint looks different along the waste stack, that's where it used to live) in it and turned it into the Leaning Tower of Heat.
They ripped out the sink and started putting up cupboards with lots of shims. This portion of the house is newer (circa 1900) and the plaster walls are a bit off plumb (just the way I likes it). But shims a plenty to go around.

There is always a joker in the crowd, isn't there.
Charlie had arrived to do the plumbing by this time. Once the uppers were level in all directions, they started on the lowers while Charlie was banished to the basement for his work with the blow torch.

With a minimum of cuts and some rerouting of a heat vent, the cupboards went in and Gord and John, flagging at this time from 5 hours of hard labour, took leave of us. Charlie stayed until the pluming for the sink was roughed in and the valves were in place (and the water was turned back on).

A bit more work and we had the countertops chopped up and in place. (The kitchen I got the units from was configured differently). It doesn’t look perfect, but it is a temporary measure until the electrical is done and I can contract someone to replace the counters.

Sunday morning, Dad hooked up the sink and faucet. I have a functioning kitchen.
Everything goes in steps. This was a big one and I couldn’t have done it without the help of so many friends. Oh and Duane, sorry you couldn’t make it. We missed you. We’ll catch you next time. Like maybe when we drywall the ceiling…

Now, every time I do a reno in this great old house, I always come across something interesting that hasn't seen the light of day in God knows how long. This is the gem this time.

Is it a top? Is it the top of something? maybe a toy? What I do know is that it is porcelin, hand painted, likely c. 1910 and extremely funny looking. It has a chinaman hat (as my grandmother would have called it) and exquisite lips that I will refrain from describing in print, but I bet his name is Toby. If anyone knows what this thing might be, let me know.

More posts soon. There's been knitting going on and other news with the band and a new addition to the family. How's that for teasing!

I still miss you

2008-11-26T16:43:00.003-05:00

June 1, 1919 -- November 25, 2003

This is the ulogy I wrote for my grandmother's funeral, 5 years ago. The sentiments expressed then hold exactly the same currency today.

If ever there were a person I thought of as the embodiment of Love, it was June. She taught us many things about the world in which we live. I would like to share a few of them with you.

Some of my oldest and fondest memories are of times spent at Gramma’s house. Sleepovers were always a treat. Every supper we shared was by candle light and no matter how much she’d stuffed into me there would always be a last bit of toast and peanut butter just before bed. (She was always afraid that we’d go home and tell our parents that she hadn’t fed us enough—fat chance.)

I learned to shuffle cards before I could properly hold the deck, but that was alright. There was a box of tissues handy to hide the cards behind when there were too many to fan out. She taught me Go Fish, Rummy, Poker, Euchre and in doing so I learned counting, addition, fair play and that it was having fun that mattered, not who won or lost the game.

Even better were the times when all three granddaughters were there to play. So many hands of cards…the box of tissues passed to the smallest of us in turn. Picnics under the willow tree, climbing up the apple trees, and the pear. Exploring in the attic of the garage, where untold the treasures lay hidden. Grandma’s house was a place to imagine, to dream, to draw. There was always a piece of scrap paper and a pencil or a pen to add another piece of art to her gallery proudly displayed at the back door of the house where everyone came in. There was nothing we couldn’t do in her eyes. She taught us to believe in ourselves.

I remember the day that grandpa died. I was seven. I remember that it too was fast; too fast to say goodbye. So fast that we had to hold on tight to the sure knowledge that he loved us. It was very hard on all of us. Especially Gramma. In those first years, while she continued to live alone in their house out at the farm, she taught us about perseverance. She spent 10 years out there. She taught us that even when we are alone, we are never alone. She taught us that the love we carry in our hearts, the memories of those we love, sustain us. She drew deeply from that well-spring and soldiered on. Over 20 years apart never diminished her love of him. Not one bit. She often spoke of Lloyd as if he were still with her and in her heart, he was. Now they are together again. A lifetime of devotion has taught us all how to live as loving couples. To cherish the time we have together on this Earth. And we do.

When we found out she had breast cancer, she continued to teach us hard lessons. I remember seeing her in that hospital room, calm as ever. You see, June had Faith. She had faith in her doctors; better yet, she had faith in God. The prognosis was dire and a radical combination of surgery, kemo and radiation was necessary. To me, it seemed it was all the same to her. It was understood that whatever the doctor wanted of her, she would do. Whatever she had to endure, God would give her the strength to endure. While she practiced faith, we all learned to pray. We prayed as we had never prayed before. Her success got her a mention in the New England Journal of Medicine. The doctors deserved a medal.

10 years after she beat Cancer, she sat in Dr. Holiday’s office as he told her quite plainly, “June, ten years ago, you never should have gotten off that table.” Always one to know just what to say, she leveled that blue gaze at him and replied, “Well I guess that means I still had work to do.”

And work she did. June’s life was built on a firm foundation of service and duty. Joyfully done, I might add, but you all already know that. Whenever there was a need, she was a heartbeat away. She greeted me many a morning when both my parents had to go into work early. She greeted Wannetta and Glenda many days at lunch and after school too. She held the fort at the Christian Science Reading Room for almost 50 years. She also visited the sick in hospital, and the “poor old souls” at the Deerness nursing home. She delivered magazines for the inmates at the detention centre: I know, we went with her, although we waited in the car. And she never called it jail.

She took care of my grandfather’s father, nursing him in their home until he died. Then, she took care of Aunt Hatie until it was time for her to go on too. It was hard work; she never complained. She sat with each of us when we got the chicken pox. She must have been immune; she never got a spot. We always fell asleep with a warm back rub. When we had bad dreams, she told us to roll over so we wouldn’t have another one. We never did. It still works today.

Born at the end of the First World War, June saw the Roaring 20’s complete with Vaudevillian theatre and speak-easies. She saw the first talkie movies, while eating penny candies. She came to a new country and a new family during the Depression. She worked making candies and biscuits for McCormicks. She helped out at Aunt Evelyn’s rooming house during the Second World War. She was a Sunday School Teacher. She could bait a hook and bring in big trout. She and Grandpa had a garden that kept fresh food on their table, as well as the tables of their closest friends too. She was no stranger to the CNE and the Royal Winter Fair after so many years of going to show the goats that Evelyn raised. When they needed extra income to make ends meet, she worked, serving tables at Tilly’s Truck Stop out on Hwy 2. That was before the days of the 401. She attended every school play, every Christmas pageant and every piano recital. She was there for every choir concert. She was our greatest fan. She was everything to everyone. She loved and was loved.

And here she lies, peacefully and restful. After a life of caring for others, she has been rewarded with a death each of us wishes for ourselves. Its quickness cuts us all, but it is the way she wanted to go. And she had time to say good-bye. She wanted us all to know she loved us very much.

I know that the crowd assembled here today to see her off will be equal to the crowd who are waiting to receive her in Heaven. She is reunited with her friends. It would seem that her work has come to an end. We who are left behind…our work here is not finished. It is we who must go on, living in this world without her.

But…each of us carries with us a piece of June in our hearts. We carry the lessons she taught us by living so well. We are here to care for one another as she cared in her own way for each of us. We are here to carry on, to play our part and always to remember, it matters not who wins or loses, but only that we enjoy the game. Love never ends.

I Will Remember

2008-11-11T15:14:00.003-05:00

LOOK down, fair moon, and bathe this scene;
Pour softly down night’s nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss’d wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

For many years now, I have marked this day with the memories of Jung’s Collective Unconscious. I was not alive to wave goodbye to loved ones as they took the train off to war. I have not visited the battlefields of the First and Second World Wars.

I have been offered other people’s interpretations of what happened and when and to whom. History served to high school and university students: the text books full of dates; the literature full of pain; the propaganda full of euphamisms; the paintings that broke the hearts and minds of the Group of Seven Painters who went to the Front Lines in France and Belguim to document the ugly Truth of War; the poems of the men who served; and the photographs in the National Archives Of Canada.

These are the fractured lenses I have used to create in my mind an image of Sacrifice. These are the tools I have to recognize the efforts of more than 100,000,000 men and the untold number of women who left our land, a land that had not seen the face of war since the days of Napoleon and Waterloo, fed on the stories of valour and chvalry and victory.

They left a place of safe haven and entered into a world of hell. Bombs screaming from the heavens. Sirens whining day and night and no where to hide. Mud holes and trenches and frozen toes and fingers. Living on smoke and rum and hope. Praying when they could. Wandering lost when they could not.

Moments of stolen happiness. A weekend off duty in a city unbombed. A hot meal. A card game won. Letters from home. A sense that everyone was doing what they could.

Who am I to sit in this time and place of relative safety and write of things I have not seen? What shall I do to mark this day, this perennial moment of Remembrance?

I am a storyteller and a singer. I do what I can. I keep what I have learned from all the different faces of war I have seen and I pass it along. And I stand in front of my peers in my workplace and take part in the ceremonies of the day. I raise my voice and proudly sing our National Anthem and Amazing Grace. And every time I sing Danny Boy, I remember.

The Theatre of War may change: the country, the people, the agressors, the Fallen. But the face of War never changes. The struggle of man against man is inevitable, as the rising of the sun in the morning. That I wish we did not have to fight matters not. War does not care what I think. And its dehumanizing face will never turn from us.

We must remember.

I chose the verse above, not because of the conflict that spawned it, but because it represents the face of War I know. And having sung its haunting setting by Ned Rorem, I have been altered by the experience and I will always remember.

Will you?

That Time the Falls Ran Dry

2008-11-04T16:15:00.016-05:00

You know, I really marvel at what man can do. In an astounding feat of engineering, the Mississippi River Power Corporation has stopped the flow of the Mississippi River over the main falls in Almonte so that they can build a new, more powerful hydro-electric station at the base of the falls reusing the refurbished turbines. My friend Andrew is working for the company that is working on the turbines. Sometimes life just feels so interconnected.

This is the view of the falls from the bridge looking "up river" if there was a river to look up, that is! (The water is being diverted down the other set of falls near the Millfall Condos.)

This is the Power House where the old turbines used to whirl and hum. The movement of the river and a slight drop is what used to power the generators. But this power house is at the top of the falls and the power was only that of the river moving along.

This is the old tailrace where the water came out of the power house.This is the gorge where that leads to the lake. They've blasted it deeply now, adding probably another 20 feet to the depth. Now the water will race over the falls, building up more speed and force so that it creates more than 19 million Kilowatt hours (versus the 11 million it used to produce). Those stats come from the Mississippi River Power Corp's website.

This view is no more either. Since the day I took these photos, they've blasted a lot more out of the groud to make a chute leading to the new site of power generation.

More photos of the continuing progress are available here.

My link to the past

Anyone who's been to Almonte has likely gone past this formidable building, Rosamond's Wollen Mill. I have a link not to this building but to the man, Rosamond.

Before he settled in Almonte and built a thriving textile industry, he lived on the banks of another set of falls, in Carleton Place just up the river. And he had my house built in 1849.

And in the early Spring, when the ice is breaking up, I too can feel the power of the river as rushes over my falls on its way to generating power once again.

Now We are Four

2008-10-16T11:25:00.012-04:00

Four short years ago, two lovely ladies came into my life. Today is there’s to celebrate. Again, really as we partied hard on Thanksgiving weekend.

There were haircuts. (‘cos who doesn’t like to look snappy at a party, especially when they party is yours!)

Thanks so much to Jamie at Escape Salon & Spa for the cuts and the laughs. See you Friday for the nails!

There were cakes. My mom baked them (to order, no less) before coming down to visit and set the girls to work icing and decorating them. When you are 4 there is lots of work to do. There might have been some sampling of the icing going on there too.
I love that their paint shirts look like lab coats since cooking and baking is always like a science experiment, especially when the girls are concerned.

Then people showed up and we partied. Calla looks a bit like Steve Tyler here! Rock on, Calla!

We played Duck, Duck, Goose! And playdough and tag and had adventures on the swing set because the weather was FANTASTIC and the leaves made the back yard golden.

I swear these leaves were green 3 days ago and they turned from pale yellow to orange over the weekend. I was so happy to have spent the whole time outside in the back yard dodging the falling walnuts (courtesy of the squirrels).

The next day we celebrated Thanksgiving and gave thanks for bunk beds, Grandma, family, crayons, and turning leaves and jokes and smiles and having someone’s hand to hold, and turkey!Then we debated all week about the fact that they weren’t actually four yet. But this morning there was no doubt. It was time to be four. We celebrated with a special breakfast (because their dad is picking them up tonight after work for the weekend). Strawberry pancakes and whipped cream is a great way to start off being four. I hope they have a great day and that they enjoy their fourness as much as I am already enjoying it.

At four, my girls are cracking jokes, putting away their own dishes, stiring everything they can in the kitchen, putting their own clothes in the hamper, helping with laundry, playing really well together, sharing and saying Please and Thank You. They are also learning songs in two languages, can count to 20, and backwards from 10, can write their own names and get themselves all dressed, including outerwear. I think they are wonderful and I'm very thankful they are mine!

Finished Objects - They Can Happen

2008-10-03T14:35:00.000-04:00

This is a quick post to show you some of the finishing up I have been at this season past.

You may recognize these as the finished product of the little girl size of Mommy Can I Have Some Too which were worn for 5 seconds longer than it took to snap the picture and then were cast off with the plaintive cry, "Mommy, they're itchy!" And have not been worn since. Who knew Regia could be so offensive (I love them myself). I have to reknit the toe on one of mine before I'll model them.

Next on the list were these lovely socks, also knit from Regia in the Avenue Color. (I love all German labels, they are so easy to pick out the colourway.) These were also worn for 10 seconds. However, it is getting colder and they are looking more appealling by the minute.
While at Almonte's Celtfest, I knit like a mad fool all afternoon while listening to Celtic Music and pretty much finished up one of these socks. They are made of Noro Kureyon which was very crunchy stuff but bloomed beautifully when I washed them. I'm waiting for the day I forget to hang them up to dry and they turn into itty-bitty socks that no one will wear (even though I don't think they're itchy at all.)

On my holidays this year, I decided to take along UFOs. When I took up with this one again I thought it was almost finished. Ha ha. I had 15 repeats of the pattern to go. Each of them took me between 2 and 3 hours.

However, it is 3 inches shy of 8 FEET LONG. Made of wool, cotton, acrylic blend. I wore it to Nelson and Carrie's wedding last weekend and it was perfect. The pattern is from Folk Shawls by Cheryl Oberle. Depite the fact that it took me 5 years to finish it, I suspect I started this and it was too advanced a design. I've come a long way in my obsession, I mean craft, since then.

This wasn't a UFO. It was a complete redo of loving socks made for Bruce. The ones I made last year turned into slouch socks and were not being worn. As the yarn cost me $20, I ripped them out, re-skeined them and knit the suckers again. Now they fit and just look at that fetching pose on the sock model!

Now this is not a UFO. This is inspiration. I might have bought a bit of fibre on my trip. No wonder I'm brimming with ideas for new stuff. I wish I had six arms and a house cleaner!

Soon I'll show you the yarn Kromski and I have made together.

Mommy Can I Have Some Too?

2008-09-22T16:19:00.000-04:00

These socks were born of a desire to have some nice lace to go on my feet. When I had finished one of the socks, I showed them off to my 4 year old daughters. One of them said, "Pretty, Mommy. Are you going to knit another one?" And the other one said, "Oh Mommy, are you going to knit us some?"

And thus a pattern in two sizes was born...

2.75 mm needles (5)
Opal Sock Yarn 100 g for mother
Invicta 50 g for daughter

[multiples of 6]

Lace Pattern
Row 1: P1, K4, P1; rep to end.
Row 2: P1, K2tog, (yo) twice, ssk, P1; rep to end.
Row 3: P1, K1, K into front of 1st yo, K into back of 2nd yo, K1, P1; rep to end.
Row 4: P1, yo, ssk, K2tog, (yo) twice, P1; rep to end.

Mommy Size

Cast on 66 sts; join (don’t twist)
1x1 rib for 2 inches

Start pattern. Repeat 4 rows until sock measures 7 inches from the cast on edge.

Note:
When you get to the heel, I suggest you divide your stitches so that there are 30 sts on the needle for the heel and 36 stitches left for the top of the foot. This will keep the chains undisturbed when you continue down the top of the foot after heel turning.

Close Stitch Heel:
Row 1 (right side): K1, *sl1 wyib, K1; rep from *
Row 2: (wrong side) Knit.

Knit these two rows until heel flap is square. (22 rows for me)

Turn Heel: Make rounded heel thusly:
Knit 17, ssk, K1, turn
Slip 1, P5, P2tog, P1, turn
Knit to one stitch before the gap, ssk, K1, turn
Slip 1, Purl to one stitch before the gap, P2tog, P1, turn
[Repeat until you have worked all the stitches on the heel.]

Make gusset:
Pick up the gusset stitches. [I think I picked up 20 or 21.] Keep in pattern across the top of the foot and pick up 20 or 21 along the other side of the heel flap. Arrange stitches so that there is an even number one each of the sole needles.

Round 1: Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1; Knit in pattern across the top of the foot; on the final needle, K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle.
Round 2: Knit the first needle; Knit in pat across the top of the foot; Knit the third needle.

Repeat these two rows until you have 18 sts on each needle. Continue knitting down the foot until you have enough pattern repeats to fit your foot to the base of your big toe. [33 repeats of the pattern from the cuff for me. Or 18 down the top of the heel.]

Toe Shaping:
Round 1: Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1; K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle (first half of top of foot); Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1 (second half of top of foot); K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle.
Round 2: Knit all sts.

Repeat these two rows until you have 7 sts left on each needle. Transfer sts to 2 needles and Kitchener Stitch closed. There are excellent tutorials out there on how to perform a Kitchener Stitch closure.

Daughter Size (Knee Socks)

Cast on 48 sts. join (don’t twist)
1x1 rib for 1 1/8 inches

Start Italian Chain Ribbing. Repeat 4 rows until sock measures 5 inches from the cast on edge.

Divide for heel:
Using half the stitches…
Row 1: *Sl1, K1* repeat. End with a K1
Row 2: *Sl purlwise, Purl to the end.
Repeat until heel flap is square.

Make gusset:
Pick up the gusset stitches. [I think I picked up 15.] Keep in pattern across the top of the foot and pick up 15 along the other side of the heel flap. Arrange stitches so that there is an even number one each of the sole needles.

Round 1: Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1; Knit in pattern across the top of the foot; on the final needle, K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle.
Round 2: Knit the first needle; Knit in pat across the top of the foot; Knit the third needle.

Repeat these two rows until you have 13 sts on each needle. Continue knitting down the foot until you have enough pattern repeats to fit your foot to the base of your big toe. [25 repeats of the pattern from the cuff for me. Or 15 down the top of the heel.]

Toe Shaping:
Round 1: Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1; K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle (first half of top of foot); Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, K2tog, K1 (second half of top of foot); K1, ssk, knit to the end of the needle.
Round 2: Knit all sts.

Repeat these two rows until you have 4 sts left on each needle. Transfer sts to 2 needles and Kitchener Stitch closed. There are excellent tutorials out there on how to perform a Kitchener Stitch closure.

The lace pattern for these socks was inspired by Barbara Walker’s Italian Chain Ribbing pattern converted to knitting in the round.

© All 9 Muses 2008. This original pattern is for personal use only. You are not permitted to sell it or distribute it or sell socks you make from it. Permissions may be granted for the use of this pattern or the picture used herein.

Dancing And Goats And Alpacas, Oh My!

2008-09-09T13:16:00.000-04:00

The second half of our trip was spent driving down many a back road in search of dance halls and fibre farms (not bran and I did not see William Shatner even once).

We managed to make it to 5 dances. Not bad considering we didn’t make it to one until Thursday night in Glencoe Mills (you will recall the insane map from my previous post).
Friday night was Southwest Margaree (not to be confused with other such closely named places as Northwest Margaree, South-south-west Margaree, North-east-east-west Margaree, Margaree Harbour, and just plain old Margaree). It’s ok, the firefighters and ambulance drivers know or are related to everyone. This was a great dance. We weren’t able to make it to this one last year because of serious after college crashing out which may have stemmed from attending too many dances during school week! However, this year we did not lay down after getting to our B&B (Hillsborough B&B) thus ensuring our ability to meet up with college friends at the dance. The only pictures I got were of peoples’ backs, a frequent problem at square dances. You spin around a lot!

The next night was West Mabou. We tried to go to the Mabou dance on our way down, but Bruce was feeling under the weather so we gave it a miss (it is an hour from the college and and hour back to the college so really I think that was for the best). As it was, we were only a few minutes from our next B&B Clayton Farm with a 4th generation dairy farm operator. The great thing about this was that we knew two of the guests from college and had dinner with two more (the Red Shoe Pub is a very popular place to eat in Mabou and tables come at a premium so it’s not unusual to share a table and conversation with good company). And the final couple were roped into going to experience the dance by our friends Jo and Simon so when we sat down to breakfast the next morning, there was a good amount of hooting and hollering and carrying on. I think it might just have been the best breakfast of the trip. Bruce and I played a few tunes for people before we all took off. The dance was great too.

The real trick to surviving the dances is threefold: 1. You don’t jump up and down like an over exuberant git and your knees will thank you for it. 2. You don’t dance every set. There are plenty throughout the evening and each one lasts about 20 minutes (2 jig sets and a reel set). 3. You go outside and cool down, even if it’s raining because you’re likely pretty wet anyways. Other than pulling a muscle in my neck which left me immobilized for a few days and was more attributed to lugging around way too much summer weight clothing in my bag than dancing, I suffered little in the way of ill effects on this years dance circuit.

On Sunday we took a break from the dances (more because there wasn’t one to go to) and we went to the Mabou Coal Mines music festival. $5 got you in for the afternoon to see a bunch of up and coming muscians and dancers and a boat ride up the coast. And it didn’t rain the whole time we were there. A miracle in music.

If you look at the right side of this picture, you can actually see a seam of coal. The town of Mabou Coal Mines dried up when it became too expensive to pull the coal out of the hills. Now there's just the port left. Here are a few pictures of our boat ride.

Bruce made a friend.

This one is my National Geographic shot of a heron in flight from a moving boat. Monday we were back at the dance hall, this time Brook Village (another winding road and wondering when you’ll get there. This hall was absolutely jammed with people. We met up with a couple from Embrum who hold a family square set weekend each month so there’s hope for us to get in a few more dances before next year. But we left early as there wasn’t enough room in that hall to turn around and fart and you hoped dearly that no one else thought there was!

When we weren’t off to a dance, we combed the countryside looking for yarn and fibre to spin. I purposely didn’t bring along my accordion this year so there’s be more room in the car for some very squishable yarns and rovings and I wasn’t disappointed.

We went to Baadeck Yarns in Baddeck where I hoped to get some Fleece Artist yarn or perhaps a kit, but the wet weather had stymied that idea. Poor woman couldn’t get any because the wet weather was making it impossible to dry the newest stuff. I believe I bought a bit of sock yarn from a new producer in Quebec (I’ll tell you about it when it comes out of the stash) and some Fleece Artist sliver for spinning.

When we got to Mabou, we seemingly drove straight to the Mabou Ridge Fibre Processing Mill and met with the owner and some of the animals. She’s not up and running presently due to some legal issues, but we’ll check back in with them next year to see how things are going then. We did come away with a lovely couple of bags of roving though, some corriadale and alpaca and some straight up yummy brown alpaca. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.

These are her goats. Their beards were very stiff. From their drool. ICK! Soft mohair though!

This is a brother of the alpaca at the top of this post. They are such characters.

Then on our way back into town (all of 10 minutes down the road) we stumbled into the barnyard of Bellemeade Farms, a lovely little shop on a working farm with hand dyed, hand painted stuff. I purchased dyed fleece and some skeins of yarn.

The greatest thing about travelling around Cape Breton is that at any moment, you can come across a hammered-in homemade sign at the side of the road that says, "MOHAIR" with an arrow. No indication how far you'll have to go before finding this trove of goat hair. But follow it we did. I said, let's just try 5 minutes down the road. Afterall, we were about to leave the island at this point and this was yet another unexpected detour.

So after 10 minutes, and having left the paved road, we came upon this little place at the very end of a road. The goats had been sold (the farmers had retired) but there was plently of fibre to be had from this lady's stash. I don't remember her name. I'll dig it out when I spin the fibre. It was worth the trip though.

The last place we went for fibre was in Nova Scotia proper near Wolfville at Gasperau Valley Fibres. I spent every last dime of my mad money in that place and I still want to lay down from the vapours. Jo at Celtic Memory Yarns tells it wonderfully and I will direct you to her post about it. Irony of ironies, we were almost there at the very same time. I should have loved the opportunity to meet her there.

Next installment, I'll tell you about us getting dressed up in Sherbrooke Village.

Back Home from the Near East

2008-08-27T14:36:00.001-04:00

It was great to get away for two weeks to the eastern reaches of our fair land. Cape Breton was fantastic. It was much like visiting Scotland (I’m told) as it rained nearly all day, every day for the entire week we were at the college. Not that it mattered much as we were up by 7am and rolling off to eat and attend our 6 classes.

So what did I learn this year? Each morning I spent entirely in the weaving and spinning shed with Marie MacDonald learning how to use natural dyes and spinning a variety of fibres I’ve never used before. We dyed with brazil wood, sandal wood, madder, and cochineal (which is made out of bugs, I’m not kidding). I spun mohair, wool, and silk. I can really see the fibre addiction beginning now folks. Look out!
Being in the Weaving and Spinning building was really nice because when you work with your hands, you really have the ability to use your ears and your mouth at the same time. So I heard stories of the other students who had spent time in other countries and in the far north, were coping from the affects of car accidents and house fires and family break-ups. It really made me pine for the company of women as we had the binding agent of the love of the college and the crafts to loosely tie such diverse and interesting people together while achieving the goals of learning something new. I can really see the merit in our guilds and knitting circles and quilting clubs, etc. The Weaving cabin has a sense of steeped quietness and secrets and it lends itself to sharing.

The afternoons were much more intense. Right after lunch was piano accompaniment. Kolten MacDonell was refreshing and fun. He taught us some really good rules of which chords were used most often and when we should try something different and he gave us some patterns to use for the different rhythms for jigs, reels and strathspeys. I got so much out of this year’s class.

Michelle Stewart (bottom left of the picture) absolutely blew my head off in her bodhran classes. Truly advance drum teaching was wonderful. Not only did I learn new rhythms to use, but she opened my eyes about using sound dynamics and different pitches to effect and I watcher her very carefully to see how she held the tipper and I’ve tried to emulate her economy of movement! This class was worth the trip alone!
Dance class fell at the end of the day. Jean MacNeil, mother of the Barra MacNeils, was just a real treat. Not only can this woman cut a rug, she’s a great teacher who is more than willing to use cool down time (and plenty of it) to tell us stories about being the mother of 6 and what it was like growing up in Washbuck. It doesn’t sound like much on the page, but let me tell you, she had us crying with her stories. And the dance steps were a review of all the ones we learned last year (which none of us had used since then). To my credit though, I continued with this idea of an economy of movement and didn’t end up wrecking my body in class or at the dances we went to.On Thursday night after the student ceilidh, a bunch of us packed into cars and headed off into the wilds of the night to find Glencoe Station and the dance hall. Mark was kind enough to encourage everyone to go and provided us with a map.

The dance was not well attended, but that actually meant there was lots of room on the dance floor and I did see some people who I had met at the dances last year. Quite obviously they go all the time all, year round. Beats going to the gym by a long shot.

On Friday, we packed up our things after our classes and headed off into the next leg of our trip. Mabou and the dances. Which I’ll tell you about next time.

Summer Party

2008-07-28T15:29:00.000-04:00

So, in the middle of all of this renovation craziness, we decided we should have a party. Our theme was music we don't often play. We are a celtic group and that's what we normally do. So we shucked some corn and had a BBQ and dodged some rain drops and had a great time.

There were some wicked harmonies.

Lots of food (not just chips). Thanks everyone for brining such an eclectic mix of stuff to indulge in.

Fiddles were brandished.

Someone wanted to play on the swing....and someone else did.

But Arlene, you take the cake honey!

Not even a bit of rain could stop the fun. (And that says a lot considering the Summer we've been having). Thanks everyone for such a good time. Did anyone else get some picutres? Email me with them if you did!

Floored

2008-07-28T15:08:00.000-04:00

I will never cease to be amazed at how

much more time it takes to do a renovation than you thought it would

much more it will cost

much you will learn

much you curse painters' tape for the lie that it is (again)

fast you can get in over your head

much every job is like an oddessy, complete with its own trip to Hades

many friends offer to help

many friends offer to bring alcohol

many times you will curse yourself

many times you will give thanks for your partner

many tears you might shed in the process

sweet victory can be.

We haven't had our victory yet, but I can smell it. It's close. But thusfar, I Am Floored.

Here is the dry-run on the sub-floor fit. Gives a good before and after.

Here is the sub-floor fited in the room. All the holes lined up beautifully. Bruce is a wizard with a measuring tape and a straight edge.

Will ya just look at that corner (and it goes under the trim at the door edge. I wept.I got to cut the vinyl. Very crafty albeit I was using tin snips. Hard Core Crafty.

Then we gave the vinyl a dry run and trimmed as required.

Then Bruce did a much better job than I did screwing the floor down. That blurry arm is movin'. He puttied the screw heads. Before putting in the glue for the flooring. We had a little lie down while it dried. Must keep up the energy for this kind of work.

This is what the floor looks like cemented in. We used highly specialized tools for this: a trowel that had teeth which measured 1/16 x 1/16 x 3/32s (I am not making this shit up) and a roller in the guise of...a fine bottle of red. Yes, it was good wine.

The Fuchsia's So Bright

2008-07-21T15:15:00.000-04:00

Now before we get started here, have you ever tried to spell "fuchsia"? It still doesn't look right to me, but after looking it up and confirming in the dictionary, I feel pretty confident that I have it. I think.

Now, you may be wondering what I've been getting up to since last I checked in. Well I took some holidays...to work on the bathroom. The kids were off to visit a cottage with their dad, and I got busy at home without little hands to help me paint.

This is the beginning of the transformation of the Ugliest Bathroom in Carelton Place. (I have not done a survey, there may be uglier bathrooms, but dudes, see for yourselves and tell me my powder room isn't/wasn't ugly.)

I present Exhibt A.

This is the starting point.

Count them subfloors: 3 plus mould and tiles

Then there was the lovely wainscotting that the barker board was hiding.But you could stick your finger through it because of the dry-rot. So I replaced it with new wainscotting. Man, that stuff is slick. Oh I did photograph the original colour that I thought I'd shoot for again.

Look at that lovely, classy oxblood colouring. Matches the trim in the other parts of the house even. However, this is the colour I ended up with... put your sunglasses on.

Dont worry, it darkens up after 3 coats. To a nice merlot.

So, after 3 days of working my arm off, I have achieved 60% painted and partially floored powder room. The question now is, will there be a toilet and sink before the weekend (or Christmas)? These things do take time.

I'm back at it with a paintbrush tonight. Let's see how far I get.

Secret Projects

2008-06-17T14:37:00.000-04:00

I've been a bit busy wrapping up a few secret projects that have occupied my mind and hands for the last while. Since November, I've been working on a committee to bring about a 10th Anniversary edition to the Ottawa Knitting Guild's newsletter, The Tangled Skein.

Along with Anne Goodwin, Ann Thacker and Victoria Leslie, we toiled and slaved to create this...
It's a 30 page magazine with new articles commemorating the guild's history and activities and reprinted articles from the last 10 years.

I wrote one of the articles.

And although I don't often toot my own horn, I am responsible for bringing about a new logo for the guild. Now, I did not design it, but I had a hand in its creation and it was my idea to replace the old logo. I feel very proud of what we all accomplished.

And I'd also like to say that the ladies at the guild were all raised very well. We received unlooked-for gifts as thanks for all our hard work, sweat and tears (yes, there were tears to produce this thing, but what birth doesn't?). Each of us received a lovely little bouquet of fragrant red roses and a basket filled with goodies. The committee also celebrated with burgers, salad and wine and flan. What an end to a great project.

In other news, I'm designing again. Another sock. They seem to be addictive. I finished this one up and showed my girls. They each had their own reaction to it.

One asked, "Mommy, are you going to knit another one?!"

And they other asked, "Oh Mommy, are you going to knit us some?"

And both questions can be answered with one word: "YES!"

I'm taking my notes and will have the pattern written up soon. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to post this patterns for sale. Until then though, enjoy the fruits of our labours.

The other thing that I've been doing for the last 6 weeks is taking guitar lessons at work. Tuesdays at lunch had given me blisters. But in return I have boned up on my chording, learned some strumming patterns and was introduced to finger picking and flat picking patterns. I really enjoyed it and I think it might be time to tune up the old 12-string again.

Fiona Style and a Homicidal Fish

2008-06-02T14:24:00.000-04:00

I present you my child, Fiona, second born of twins. First lady of the scissors. You know, it only takes 15 minutes for a parent to shower. It takes less time for a 3 year old to hack off her hair. (I was not the parent in the shower.)

This is what Fiona’s hair looked like May 24th.

And this is what it looks like after having been to the hairdressers for what I’m sure is a regular event of their utmost artistry. Doesn’t every kid do this? I remember going to bed without supper the night I decided I’d had enough of my bangs.

That is not a comb over. There is only scruff there at the top of her head. She still looks cute.

Also, these are the ponchos that I made for the girls. True to fine knitting form, I put the collars on them (so that Calla’s will not fall right off her shoulders and on to the floor anymore) and the temperature is set to go into the 30s later in the week. They will fit for several years though. Maybe someday I’ll even put flowers on them.

Loosely based on the Urban Poncho pattern from (I think) Lion Brand yarn. Calla's is made of Patons Canadiana colour 420, lot 02/03 from the Fairy Yarn Father. Fiona's is made from Patons Decor and I don't have the ball bands at the moment. The yarn was supposed to be bulky, so since I used worsted weight, I held the yarn double and hoped for the best. It's not like it was a cabled vest we shall not name for the now. And because they are a little on the large size, the children can grow into them for a few years. Easy to knit. A very pleasing, mindless knitt.

A killer swims among us

Some time ago, I bought a fish. It was a beta that was not a happy fish. And not long lived. This may have been my error, not ever having owned fish before. However, it was a dissatisfied fish and the children (who were the recipients of “Nemo”) did not care a whit about him. I secretly believe the fish knew his name and committed suicide from the shame of being a Disney creation.

So I went to Walmart and bought new fish. One of which flourished. The other two, not so much. I changed the water when I should. I fed them. I said, “Hi!” every day. One day, my mother watched the orange and white one bunt the others as it lapped the bowl. It either worried them to death or they fell into merciful concussions and were “flushed”. For all I know, they have now recovered and are living very happily in the Mississippi watershed. I’d like to think so.

Without further ado, I present “Killer”.

I know he doesn't look like much, but you are not a fish sharing the bowl with this menace.
Please spare a moment for a couple of the fallen (Blackie and the Rodeo King). And do try to remember, when you are in a bowl with a fish who has delusions of grandure and thinks it's a shark, the plastic weeds offer no cover.

Surviving the Time Warp

2008-05-27T16:23:00.001-04:00

This past weekend, I entered a black hole. A vortex of frenetic activity that actually bent time itself and allowed me to get more stuff done than any one household should be able to achieve in 3 days. Strap on your helmets and sit down. I’m not sure how I’m still standing, but you’ll be tired when you’re done reading.

On Friday morning my Dad arrived for a visit. We almost immediately jumped in the car and headed off to Ikea to buy some mattresses. I had picked up the girls’ new Big Girl beds. Pine bunk beds from Sears and decided that Ikea foam mattresses would just fit the bill. I did have to explain that no one would “on top” because the girls are not old enough to have the beds stacked. But when the time comes, let the record stand: Calla is going to be on the top bunk. (I figure this is quite fitting as Fiona was the twin who was on top before they were born.)

So while I got the groceries, Dad started to put the new blinds and curtain rods up. Buy the time I was finished the shopping (more shopping…god I hate shopping) and put away the food and hid the surprise for the girls, we were ready to put together the beds. Pine bunk beds are heavy, so Dad and I took 15 trips up and down the stairs to load everything we needed into their room. We got the frames together and the girls helped us spread out and secure the slats. They put all the screws in the holes and we were able to quickly fasten them with the drill. Already the children’s eyes glow when they see power tools. It brings a tear to my eye just to think about when I can get them their very first power tools.

As soon as the mattresses where down, the new sheets went on (damn me, they’re expensive) and the girls were into their beds faster than I’ve ever seen them move. Finally, after a year and a half, their room is complete. Well, they could use a few pictures on the walls. I’m working on that.

This is how happy they are with their new room.

With that job done, we enjoyed dinner, the girls had a bath and then they were off to their new big girl beds for the first sleep and Dad and I collapsed on the couch and stumbled upon Transformers which neither of us had seen. What a score! The computer graphics were amazing and the story is pretty good too. I vaguely remember there was a cartoon and the toys when I was a kid, but let’s face it, my track record with the toys was not good then and it hasn’t improved any. Why is it when I pick up one of those things I don’t get a cool vehicle or plane. I get a severed head or an arm or a wheel. Really, it might just be for the best that I leave the toys alone and enjoy the movie. I’ll watch it again for sure, even though I know very well that no knitting is possible while its one. That should tell you something.

Saturday many things happened all at once. The grass got cut. It was in danger of swallowing the children, so I cut it just in time. The veggie garden was widened in the hopes that it will produce vegetables this year. Last year was a bit of a fallow year for the garden. I purchased last year’s seeds at the dollar store. That was a bad idea. The only thing that came up were inedible radishes. Seriously, there were like fire. This year, I smartened up and bought seeds every grocery trip for a month. And the number of seed packets meant that the postage stamp garden needed to be bigger. So I set Dad to work with the shovel turning over the sod. And I spent the rest of the day on my knees in the garden shaking the dirt out of the sod and throwing it into the wheelbarrow and emptying it onto the compost pile. I could have put it elsewhere, but then I’d have to mow it too.

While I was shaking the dirt (with the help of the girls who were treasure hunting and flinging dirt around in the garden), Dad went and got me my birthday present. Two new screen doors for the kitchen. Now we can sit with the metal doors open and fewer bugs will come in. Must get a couple of magnet sets to ensure the doors stay closed in the breeze.

And the guys showed up to install…drum roll please…the air conditioner!!!!! This summer the house will NOT become an Anasazi bake oven. I will sleep through the night in July! I swear it.

Three Cheers! to Carleton Clean Air Technologies!!! Rubin, Shawn and Chris did a fantastic job and I would recommend them to anyone for any of your heating and air conditioning needs. They were honest, efficient and cost conscious. They did good work fast. I am totally happy with my dealings with them. Thanks also to Gaynor and Adrian for putting me on to them. Fantastic!

Then we got out the surprise. My kids love to jump up and down. So now, they can.

So I shook dirt out of clumps of grass all day and then cleaned myself up and got ready to do a gig in Almonte at the Naismith Pub. Yes, I played drum for 4 hours with the same arm that shook out all that dirt. And I can still move it now!

And on the way to the gig, not far beyond the tracks on Hwy 29, Dad and I saw something very interesting cross the road. I kid you not. We saw a wolf run across the road in broad daylight. I’ve never seen one of those before.

On Sunday, Dad went home (after letting me sleep in a bit…bless you man). The girls and I planted our veggie seeds (broccoli, lettuces, carrots, beans, peas, tomato plants) and they ran through the sprinkler while I weeded another bed and got wet the more I pruned the roses. And we laid plans for the afternoon. Nicola, Andrew and Harry were coming over for a play (and a relax) and BBQ. A very nice way to round out the weekend. I learned again (after 30 years) how to play Crazy 8s and man, it is crazy. Somewhere around 10 pm I kicked everyone out (except my children who were blissfully sound asleep) and lost consciousness.

When I checked on the kids I discovered that they had decided that their night lights no longer needed to be in their windows when they’d work much better perched up here.

Surprise!

2008-05-16T10:33:00.000-04:00

You know, sometimes, when you least expect it, a party breaks out. This is a driect cause from having musicians for friends.

What a great birthday I had. At lunch, I was treated by my friends at work to excellent Vietnamese soup and then a Second Cup iced coffee thing (I'm not a regular and has anyone noticed it is now impossible to order a simple drink at these so called Specialty Coffee shops? I mean without attending their unversity programming to learn the names of drink types and sizes).

Anyways! Many thanks to Dan, Sabine, Gaynor and Dave for a lovely lunch.

Later in the day, Bruce met me for dinner at Lonestar in Kanata where we gorged on tex mex and Corona (OK I was the one who ordered the humungous Corona) and then headed home to what I thought would be a nice relaxing evening with a couple of friends over for cake.

A couple turned into 10 in a hurry. Thanks to Bob, Arlene, Gord, Johanne, Charlie, Nicola, Andrew and Harry for making my birthday special. And extra special thanks to my dear Bruce who arranged a very tasty cake and set the whole thing up.

Music and friends. What more can someone ask on their birthday?!

Let Them Eat Cake

2008-05-14T13:44:00.000-04:00

There’s been a whole lot of music and partying going on around here.

Corkery Road played a gig at The Old Mill at Ashton a couple of weeks ago. It was our first time playing there and it was a treat. I had worked overtime that day and was pretty wiped out by the time I got to the pub, but I had revived myself with a bit of new yarn from Kelly at the Ashton General Store (which I have yet to take a photo of, so stay tuned) and a new shawl construction book. Thank you for letting me in eventhough you were already closed!!!

When we got to the pub, we discovered it packed with a whole tournament’s worth of rugby players. What an interesting crew rugby players are. For all I know, they are accountants and computer programmers by day, but put a jersey on their backs and they become something else entirely. On the field, they can become testosterone driven animals intent on two things: killing things that get in their way and scoring goals. But afterwards, they return to the social element…beer. And lots of it.

Just before we ate, we watched these men choose the winning teams’ “man of the match” which was followed by an amazing chug contest. The trick, my lovelies is not to swallow. Just tip your head back and try not to let it come out of your nose.

When that was finished, one of the props came up. And how do I know he was a prop? Simple, he was the biggest bastard in the bar and had size 14 (or so) feet. This is important because he was there to recognize and celebrate a player’s very first goal ever. The man’s prize? ¾ of a pitcher of beer. Drunk from one size 14 “well seasoned” rugby shoe.

I would much rather have watched them perform live sex acts on a goat.

Luckily, despite these manly, barbaric acts, every one used their utensils to eat and some of them even stayed for the show. In fact the table with the big prop supplied John with a hat to wear while he sang one of his tunes. Considering the number of get-ups I’ve seen John wear in the last 2 years, I am not surprised they wanted him to put on the tam.

The Barley Shakers have been active and making much music in the last couple of months. I haven’t had the opportunity to play much with them because of conflicting schedules but on Sunday May 4, we took part in the Almonte Kitchen Ceilidh to help raise funds for the Danny O’Connell Memorial Fund to help up and coming local fiddlers. From what I heard, the show was excellent. The Old Town Hall filled up so fast during the Barley Shakers performance, we didn’t have any where to sit, so faced with the thought of nothing more to do, we went back to Bruce’s and jammed away the rest of the afternoon and then headed over to the Ironworks Pub to jam some more. Great night.

Since the weather has turned beautiful, almost an instant summer, I have been mucking around in the gardens. Because of the business of last summer and the amount of rain we had, little was done last year. One of my gardens wasn’t weeded at all, causing it to make my place look a bit like a crack house. Well after much toil and sweat, I have 4 of my 5 gardens cleaned up and some of them even mulched. I have a few more to go, but the black flies are out in a plague and are making it so gardening is a bit of a blood sport after the sun goes down. Again, no pictures yet. I promise, if the sun is still nice when I get home, I’ll take some and post them later.
This weekend past, my mom was up to visit. We had a great time doing a bit of shopping for gardening things, and she’s responsible for one of the gardens looking so nice. While she was here, we celebrated both Mother’s Day and my Birthday. Although my birthday is tomorrow, I have always been fortunate enough to spread the joy over a week or sometimes two, if I’m lucky. It’s not about the gifts, but the good times and we all like them. So there was cake, and there were flowers and there was much good cheer.

Can It Be Spring Now?!

2008-04-21T15:35:00.000-04:00

Pattern by: Jennifer Hoy

All 9 Muses

These socks were born out of an intense desire for winter to be over during one of our many January blizzards. The five columns of twisted stitches provide extra stretch so fewer stitches are needed for these socks. And an eye of the partridge heel lends just a little zing.

Size: Woman’s medium (size 7.5ish)

Finished measurements: 11 inch leg and 9.5 inch foot length (but tailorable to fit any length)

Materials: 100 gr On line Supersocke 100 in Tropic colour

Needles: set of 5 3mm dpns

Gauge: 9 sts per inch

Notes: Twisted Stitches are created when you insert your needle into the second stitch and knit, then knit into the first stitch and draw them both off the needles at the same time.

Pattern

Cuff: Cast on 60 sts loosely. K1, P1 for 2 inches.

Leg Pattern

Row 1: K7, P1, K2 twisted, P1, *K8, P1, K2 twisted, P1, * (repeat from * to * 3 times) K1

Row 2: K7, P1, K2, P1, *K8, P1, K2, P1, * (repeat from * to * 3 times) K1
Repeat these two rows until leg is 9 inches long.

Divide for heel by placing stitches from the back of the leg (the ones where the column of twisted stitches run up the back of the leg like a seam) onto one needle and proceed to do a partridge heel flap thusly…

Eye of the Partridge Heel Flap

Row 1: *Slip 1, K1* repeat. End with K1

Row 2: Slip 1 purlwise, Purl to the end

Row 3: *K1, Slip 1* repeat. End with K2

Row 4: Slip 1 purlwise, Purl to the end

Repeat until your heel flap is square. End with right side facing for heel turning.

Turn the Heel

Work across half the heel flap stitches + 2 sts, K2tog, k1, turn Slip 1 purlwise, P5, P2tog, P1, turn Work to last stitch before the gap, decrease, k1, turn Work to last stitch before the gap, decrease, p1, turn Repeat until all the stitches have been worked.

Pick Up the Gusset
Pick up and knit 16 sts along the edge of the heel flap, work across the front of the sock in pattern, pick up and knit 16 sts along the other edge of the heel flap and knit to the middle of the turned heel. Rearrange your sts so that you have an even number of stitches along the gussets and heels. Proceed thusly…

Row 1: Knit to the last 3 sts of the first needle, k2tog, k1, knit across the front of the sock in pattern, k1, ssk, knit to the end of the 4th needle.

Row 2: Knit all sts on first needle, knit across the front of the sock in pattern, knit all sts on the 4th needle.

Repeat these two rows until there are 15 sts remaining on each needle. Proceed down the foot, keeping continuity of pattern across the top of the foot and stocking stitch for the bottom of the foot until the sock measures 6.5 inches (or try it on and stop knitting when the sock reaches the base of your big toe).

Decrease for Toe

Round 1: Needle 1: Knit to the last 3 sts, K2tog, k1 Needle 2: K1, ssk, K to end Needle 3: Knit to the last 3 sts, K2tog, k1 Needle 4: K1, ssk, K to end
Round 2: Knit all stitches

Repeat these 2 rounds until there are 24 sts left.

Kitchener stitch remaining sts off the needles.

Overall, I really enjoyed designing and knitting these socks. The pattern is easy and fun. Fewer stitches per row (even if it is only a savings of 4 sts) made them zip right along. This was my first partridge heel as well. The yarn was a good buy from Textile Traditions on a dark, depressingly snowy (no really blizzardy) Saturday in Almonte. After partaking of a good solid meal at the Superior Restaurant, I slogged across the street and proclaimed that only sock yarn would make it all better. Sunny, happy sock yarn. On Line self-striping sock yarn fit the bill and at at about $13 for 100gr, it fit the pocket book too.

I designed the socks for the Ottawa Knitters' Guild Sock Challenge (well, I would have designed them anyway, but this gave me the nudge I needed) and will be passing them over to the judges tonight. I won't see them for a month (sniff)!

I did notice, however, that when I washed them, some of the blue dye ran a bit. Something to watch out for. I think I'll dunk them by hand until they stop that nonsense as my superwash socks usually go into the regular wash.

Special thanks to Bruce, for taking the pictures of socks on the foot.

What Book Are You?

2008-04-14T13:28:00.000-04:00

You're The Mists of Avalon!

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

You're obsessed with Camelot in all its forms, from Arthurian legend
to the Kennedy administration. Your favorite movie from childhood was "The Sword in
the Stone". But more than tales of wizardry and Cuban missiles, you've focused on
women. You know that they truly hold all the power. You always wished you could meet
Jackie Kennedy.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Well, maybe not all that, but how could I resist posting this?! Funny, I've read it at least 3 times all more than 15 years ago now and usually when I see something like this I want to rush right out and do it. However, as this is well over 500 pages and I'm averaging about 1 chapter a night out of a kids book (The Dark is Rising Sequence) it might be imprudent to start Mists now.

Victory Over the Heartbreaker

2008-04-10T12:49:00.000-04:00

This is the odyssey of the Aran Accent Vest. It is a cautionary tale for all of you who would knit this vest. There are many lessons I have learned including those taught by perseverance, stubbornness, optimism, hope and bloody-mindedness. All of which I possess in spades.

In the vest’s defence, I whole-heartedly declare that I love it. I loved it when I first spied the Paton’s booklet Cables which I purchased after a trunk show at Yarn Forward and Sew On (Kanata location) in the Year of Our Lord 2006 (?). And the number of cable repeats I have done for this finished object have engrained an unholy love of the pattern and given me a recurring eye twitch.

The yarn was a lovely gift from Bruce’s mom, Joyce, who was destashing and divesting herself of a few things (a hat form, a Cowichan sweater coat and a poncho). It is Briggs and Little turquoise and tweedy (and barky and twiggy) and offers lots of good stitch definition. However, this is not the yarn called for in the pattern. With a stash like mine, I rarely use the called for yarn. This is where adventure and fearlessness begin.

Lesson 1: Swatches Lie

Lesson 2: Balancing Christmas Knitting and Selfish Knitting is Tough to Do

So, back in October, I set out to knit this with the hopes of having it to wear for Christmas. This was my first blunder. I thought that I could knit something like this in between my Christmas knitting. Not so much. Still, I cast on for a swatch, because I was being good and thought swatching would help. Got gauge and knit the front, meticulously ripping and picking back where I had made errors so that it would be perfect. At one point (at Thanksgiving, in a posh spa hotel room) I took the piece in progress off the needles and measured it only to find it was a bit too big, but using well-known Knitter Denial, I kept on, thinking that I could compensate in some way.

So when I got it finished (the front, after Christmas…like in February when my Christmas knitting was done…don’t tell me this doesn’t happen to you…those of you who are actually knitters), I laid it on the table and took out my measuring tape. Only to find that in the intervening months during which I had concentrated on my Christmas knitting, like a good little knitter, that it had not shrunk while sitting in the Bad Corner. Imagine that. The universe had not conspired to shrink the fabric like it is so fond of doing to my pants.

Lo, it was 2 inches too wide. And I had intended for it to be a curve hugging, bodaciousness enhancer (‘cos I got some of that to enhance…whereas the starving stick model Paton’s has used to illustrate the design in the booklet does not have so much of). I had thought that I would be able to go for that elusive quality, “Negative ease” which draws the fabric in to the hour-glass waist, to accentuated the round bosom and hips. To show it all off.

2 inches too much on the front, having used the right size needles, meant that I would also be 2 inches too wide on the back. Which meant 4 inches too large all around and frankly that meant I wasn’t knitting a size large (which is what my bust measurement said I should knit, for the sake of the general population, you understand). It meant I was knitting wide enough for the XX-large. Now, no one will mistake me for an emaciated, half-starved stick girl model. No Siree, not in this lifetime. However, I am not inclined to believe I need to wear a 2XL for my sweaters. Especially not when I’m going for some of that Negative Ease.

I didn’t have enough yarn to continue the way I was going. So I did the only thing I could think of doing. I RIPPED IT OUT. Fear not! I was fortified by stiff drink and moral support.

Lesson 3: Cast on Again Right Away

It was then the vest became known as “The Heartbreaker”. But, I’ve had my heart broken before and I have soldiered on. So, I unravelled the SOB and strung it out on my niddy-noddy to straighten it out (I put it in the shower for a go at the steam which really made our babysitter laugh. She appreciates my entertainment value…as I know the rest of you do too.) Little did I know however that I would have my heart broken by this design repeatedly. Good thing I’m stubborn or it might not have happened.

I immediately cast on again. I made a second swatch on smaller needles and with a smaller size in mind. My gauge was a tad shy of the mark this time and I thought, “Eureka! I’m headed for negative ease for sure.” And blithely cast on for the front a second time. At least I had the pattern pretty well down by this time and it went better the second time with fewer ripping events and less swearing. Front done, measuring well within acceptable range for the desired effect.

Cast on for the back as for the front until you get to *** in the pattern. Now this point in the pattern coincides with having 3 of those funky diamonds done. And I was thinking to myself, almost there. Maybe done this weekend. Ha. Not so. Look at the pattern and see these words, or words of a similar nature: “continue in pattern until 32 rows centre cable pattern are worked 3 times.” Now, I was at 3 times already so I thought long and hard about how long this freaking thing would be if I worked another 3 repeats. Albeit, the neckline on the front was lower than the back. So I worked 2 more repeats of it (extending beyond the weekend) and took another look. Consulted Raverly which told me that I’d gone too far, but liked how it was looking so I modified my plan a bit for a short and sweet vest. But I did stop at the 5 repeats of the diamond cable and extended the front armstrappy things 2 inches to meet the neckline in the right spot. Sewed up the shoulders and put on the neck ribbing. Then did the arm ribbing. Then sewed up the side seams. And measured the whole affair top to bottom, with consideration for the increase in length for the extra lozenge pattern.

Lesson 4: It's OK to Deviate from Patterns

It was long according to the schematics. That was ok. However, it was still wider than anticipated. After switching to the smaller needles and going down a size in the pattern, I would have thought that it would fit Twiggy. However, this was not meant to be. After washing and blocking, I tried it on and cried. It fit as well as a horse blanket. Good stitch definition. Close attention paide to details in the pattern. Looked great. I just needed to put on another 100 lbs. Since I wanted to show this off at Guild in less than 2 weeks, the all Oreo Cookie diet wasn’t going to make this sucker fit.

Lesson 5: Modifications are Possible After You're Done the Knitting

So I threw it in the dryer. That freaked y’all out didn’t it. I’ve felted projects on purpose by washing repeatedly in hot to great success. I’ve also shrunk things inadvertently in my teen years. I just used my judgement and drastic measures were called for. I very carefully timed things so that it would shrink. Afterall, with too much fabric, I had room to move. So I let it go for 20 agonizing minutes (checking after 10) to find that shrinking was indeed going on. But not enough. A bit of felting was going on too but not so much to be unbecoming.

Still, too big by a lot. Definitely no negative ease. So I moved on to more drastic measures. I sewed the side seams farther in. Like by another 2 inches on both sides. And as the neckline was gaping so much that newborns were crying for lunch, I wove another line of stitches under the cast-off edge to snug it up. Plunging is ok, however, it doesn’t do to have infants throwing themselves out of their buggies or car seats to get at a total stranger’s goods (babies are not fussy when they are hungry.)

After redoing the seam stitches, I tried it on again to see if the snugness was better. Yes! A small victory against the Heartbreaker. However, the excess fabric on the inside had to go.

You know what that means… If you have a faint heart, just leave now.

Lesson 6: Sometimes You Have to be Brave

I had to
Cut
The
Vest

With
Scissors

I’ve never had to cut steeks. But I understood the theory. Use wool because it has a memory. Reinforce your seams. No unravelling. So that’s just what I did.

Now, the Aran Accent Vest and I can be friends. Victory! Mission accomplished. And now, I want to figure out what cabled sweater I’ll knit Bruce. Although, I might just use the recommended yarn this time.

Lesson The Last: Broken Hearts Mend. Knit On.

A Question of Loyalty

2008-03-27T10:44:00.000-04:00

I am astounded and flattered this morning. Eventhough most of you lurk quietly on this site, I have a little tracking device that registers your activity. Now, before y'all get freaked out by that statement, this is a benign thing that tracks hits to my site: what city you're from; how long you stay; how you got there (i.e., did you do a google search on some related word and my site name caught your eye so you followed it down the rabbit hole only to discover I've used the search word as "tongue in cheek".), etc.

Now this little blurry image tells me that a number of you (almost 20) check in from time to time, but 7 of you are looking often. Almost like a little legion of angels keeping checking out what I'm up to. Do you have any idea how that might make someone feel? Did you know you could have such a positive affect just by stopping by? I scarcely knew myself, until now.

Let me make this very clear...I don't know who you people are. But there are a precious few of you who return again and again. To you, I make this solomn promise...I will try to write more often. Let's call it a little spring resolution. And if you ever feel like leaving a message...drop me a line.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for making this blog a regular part of your week. And thanks for watching my back.

How Fortunate am I

2008-03-26T15:42:00.001-04:00

A while ago I looked at something I haven’t looked at in years.

This little suede pouch will be fondly remembered by Veronica. We each bought one at The Bay in London’s Westmount Shopping Mall when we were 13 or 14. I don’t remember what they cost, but to me it’s just priceless and I’m so glad that I have kept it. What you are looking at is not just a suede pouch, but a bag of treasures. Anyone looking at the assortment of oddments would think to themselves, what a load of rubbish, but to me each thing in this trove is a symbolic memory wrapped in wonder.

There is the little piper ornament from my first birthday cake. He is my first and most enduring piece of classical sculpture.

There are Tiffen Tokens that represent all manner of coins and commerce.

There is a bottle full of potpourri which inspired many love philtres and potions. Once upon a time, it also smelled quite nice.

There is a “golden” headband ala Oliva Newton-John (this was the ‘80s folks) that I used to wear like a crown when I wanted to feel regal. You can see part of it in the little piper picture.

And there was this:

It is a little compact. I suspect it once held powder, and when my grandmother gave it to me, it was empty, but not for long. I filled it with cut-glass gems from dilapidated costume jewellery and four little pieces of paper.

Fortunes saved from numerous trips to the local Chinese food restaurant when I was a teen. Now, many of you will know that I am, deep down, a superstitious sort of person. I believe in Fate and Providence and a pantheon of gods and goddesses that watch over us as we stride and blunder our way through our confusing and rewarding lives. And what did they say?

1. You are protected by silent love and friendship.
2. Wisdom is knowing when to change your mind.
3. You will live long and enjoy life.
4. Your destiny is to be famous.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I think every once in a while I think we all need to stop and remember how blessed we are, even when or especially when we are beset with adversity, troubles and trials (which I am currently not, unless you count the looming tax time…which I don’t).

When my marriage broke up I felt like I was in the darkest moment of my life…and perhaps I was. But the demise of that relationship shed light on the many, many people who were waiting to help lift me up and remind me that the sun still shone and my life would get better. And not just a few people came to help me out in their own ways, but a crowd of people. All that silent love and friendship changed my life forever and I appreciate every one of you who helped me regain my feet and my self respect.

The wisdom of knowing when to change your mind is something we all struggle with. How do you know you are making the right decision? Only through trial and error and let’s face it, when you are already in your trails, a little change can do a lot of good.

Nice to think I’ll live a long life, but at the rate I’m living it, I may feel a bit like Methuselah by the time I’m 40. Wait, let me amend that, I feel like Methuselah now!

And if my destiny is to be famous, I hope the rest of the Roadies are coming along for that ride too! We already are famous…locally. My hope is that I can remain on the side of famous and stay away from infamy!

Strange eh, that something from the end of my childhood could resonate so much that I am again infused with inspiration. I think there is no little magic laced into this bag. It carries a great deal of power and I am fortunate enough to recognize it and remember.

Still Certifiable

2008-03-19T16:08:00.000-04:00

I finally received my letter from the Editors' Association of Canada regarding my testing from last November. Out of the three tests I wrote, I received certification for the Elementary Knowledge of the Publishing Process. Ironically, this was the one I knew the least about (not working in a Publishing House).

However, this does not mean that I am a sub-standard editor on the Proofreading or Copy Editing fronts. Because I decided to go for all three tests at once, I ran the risk of having difficulty separating the basic functions of the Proofreader from those of the Copy Editor as these are hats I wear all the time and functions that I serve on a daily basis. This is a unique brand of full-service editing that I offer my company and as such, I find it difficult to place boundaries on the type of editing I am requested to do. Very good for the end product; not so good for the testing criteria.

So, I am partially certified. I know how to publish all kinds of documents. And I'm a first rate editor. I just need retesting on how to be a proofreader only or a copy editor only.

In a way, I'm quite happy that I will need to approach this testing again. It serves me well to have to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n and concentrate from time to time. And not everything should come easily.

So, all that said, I'm still certifiable. But you all knew that anyway!

Snow is a 4-Letter Word

2008-03-06T16:46:00.000-05:00

E-nuff Already!

Yesterday was a snow day. No kidding. 25-30 cm of snow has a way of really grinding things to a halt. My day started with a 6:30 am call from the nanny who was staring down her 150 ft laneway at a wall of snow left by the highway snowploughs. I’m sure it was taller than she is. So, she was stranded with the car seats in her car…not that I could go anywhere because there was 5 feet of snow for me to plough myself.

The prospect of a snow day was ok. The kids were remarkably good. I asked them to help each other out and not get into any trouble as I pulled on my working coat and toque and mitts and stepped out into 30 cm of snow (in my little booties) and slogged my way to the barn, forced open the door because I didn’t think to bring the shovel from the back door and then went to get the power cord because, yep, I forgot that too.

Then I spent a good 5 minutes just trying to get the thing started. I did eventually realize that the key must be in the on position. (I don’t use this thing enough to actually get the hang of it.) Once it fired up in all its smoke-belching glory, I was flying down the lane way, across the ice and down on my ass…where I thanked the man (and I know it was a man) who decided that when your hands come off the throttle and the auger, the machine should stop moving in whichever direction it was going (which was backwards at the time). But I am stiff and sore even after going to physio.

The snow was powdery. Good for not working the machine too hard. Bad for the poor bugger working it (me) because I needed to pile the snow on the side of the driveway where the wind was coming from and a lot of it ended up back on me.

It only took me 40 minutes or so. Not too bad. The kids didn’t spill anything or empty the contents of the playroom (or the fridge) into the living room, and they were still wearing their clothes. Good times.

I knit, prodigiously while the girls played. Got the front of a cabled vest done. (I’ll take pictures later when I can bend over to get the camera bag off the floor without it hurting.) The kids played hard and were more than ready for bed and I (having knit myself out of wanting to knit anymore…mark your calendars) looked through some pattern books and thought about other things I might knit someday.

This morning, I discovered that the silent, stealth snowplough (the one that comes in the night when you are in a comma from digging out the day before) was by and filled in the walkway and driveway again.

So, pissed off at 7 am, I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair and stuck on my toque and headed for the barn to do it all over again. This time, I did manage to grab the power cord on my way by.
However, the planets and stars of fate obviously moved during the night and even with the key in the on position, I wasn’t able to get the bastard to light up. Even when the starter caught on fire (a bit, briefly) I just kept on keeping on…to no avail.

Now, if I hadn’t pushed the friggin’ thing into the laneway before trying to start it, I wouldn’t have had to coerce it back into the barn. Yes, there is a pull-cord on it. Yes, I gave it a cursory tug. No, I am not strong enough to make the machine go in this manner. Even with the lawnmower, with which I have a slightly better relationship, I cannot pull that cord more than 3 times without slipping a disk. The snowblower is like a crusty big brother to the lawnmower. No luck. So, sweating already and having gotten nothing for it, I headed for one of my favourite tools: the shovel. I detest shovelling snow. So much do I hate it, I chipped out enough to get my car out of the laneway and left the postie to climb a mountain snow if she wanted to deliver my bills.
Then I carefully opened my car door, so as not to deposit a 2-foot chunk of snow on the car seat and started the car.

After finishing my ablutions inside and fare-thee-welling the kids, coffee in hand, I moved off to excavate the car from the pile of snow that had built up during the day yesterday. Yes, I should have cleaned it off when the snow blowing gods were with me, but I didn’t. So I cleared the hood and the windshield and as much of the roof as I could (it was heavy) and got in to hopefully reach speeds that would allow the rest of the icebergs resident on the car’s roof to calf and fall to their death. I find it’s an excellent way to keep tailgaters back. I looked back into my laneway and almost laughed at the cozy corral of snow I’d left behind where my car had been.

I want to know what happens to people's driving skills when snow falls. Can anyone tell me? Yes, sure, all the merging and right hand turn lanes that were their 2 days ago are gone, and we can’t see around corners very well, but you know damn well when you are not going to clear an intersection before the light turns red! So stop pulling out when you know you shouldn’t. And you, over there, the one who likes to break every time it looks like you’re going over a patch of ice. Quit giving me a freaking heart attack. It’s not the first time you’ve seen snow and there have been much worse days on the road. And while I’m rampaging about people's driving skills…the stop line at intersections, you know, if you stop at it, you can still see to turn left and let the poor bastard (me) who is trying to turn right actually see the cars that are coming before half of my car is in the active lane (where the cars are).

By the time I got to work, I was in such a mood I told people there were only foul words to describe how I felt.

And what did I learn today? Environment Canada has another winter storm warning out for the weekend. Between 30 and 50 cm of snow. Yesterday was a freaking joke compared to that!

When will it end?!

Hmm, seeing as blogging is free and therapy is not (by a long shot) I think I feel better now. Just don’t ask me how I feel on Sunday, OK?

Eclipse This

2008-02-20T23:10:00.001-05:00

Wow

Partay

2008-02-19T20:41:00.001-05:00

Every mid-winter deserves a bit of crazy fun. So what we did was cram as many people with instruments as would fit in the living room, loaded up the kitchen table until it groaned under the weight of the food and set people to doing what they love the most until the wee hours.

Marian is always the first to arrive and almost the last to leave. This woman knows how to party.
The only folks who did not bring an instrument and arrived dead tired from walking and skating all day. Glad they made it
Don of accordion and Fairy Yarn Father fame was a mid-party surprise arrival. And where had he been, to Norwood for DOG SLEDDING. I love this country!
David and Joan, the good folks who put me on YouTube.
They also brought the Orgasmic Chocolate Cake. You can visit anytime!The only instruments the girls were allowed to touch were our own. Here Calla is showing Barb her tune.
Arlene is a wicked fiddle player and what a comedian too! Her hair and her silk matched.
Nothing like wall-to-wall friends.

And it's just not a party until someone gets out a wig.
And it just ain't a party until someone gets out the wig. I'm happy to say the girls got the wig out.

What? I look as good in it as she did!Andrew was AMAZED. (You didn't think I'd post this, did you.)

I have discovered that John loves attention. That is one of my word magnets. Can you read it?Apparently, he is repulsive.

Next party is in the Spring. And it will be a dress up party. There will be prizes. Stay tuned. I'm inviting MORE PEOPLE to that one. I hope we can have it outside.

Patience is a Virtue

2008-02-06T11:38:00.000-05:00

Patience, Persistence and Perseverance

Patience
The capacity to tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without becoming angry or upset.

Persistence
The act of continuing, firmly or obstinately in an opinion or a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.

Perseverance
Continuing in a course of action in spite of difficulties or with little or no indication of success.

I am hoping that this little mantra will help me in my journey from the edge...

I’m feeling overwhelmed again. I have been overtaken by the events in my life. I know damn well that it’s my own fault. But I just don’t seem to know where the relax button is. And as a consequence this post will reflect two things: my life is crazy and random. So on with it…

Kromski News
When last we spoke of the Kromski spinning wheel, I was feeling a bit of spinning/llama angst. Having waited for the teacher to appear, and the roving to arrive from “out west” somewhere on a slow truck to Carleton Place, I am going on Thursday to the Mississippi Black Sheep Gallery where Susan is going to give me the “what for” and “how to” on the mysteries of Scotch Tensioning. And while I’m at it, I think I’ll ask her about brushing the llama so that I’m not spinning from the butt end. I know this makes little sense to you. It barely makes sense to me, frankly. It’s a new language for a burgeoning art form (for me), but I am taking heart that help is less than a block away. And I’m really looking forward to having a good gab with my neighbour while I’m at it.

So stay tuned for more spinning news.

Dying Yarn
In the absence of newly spun-by-me yarn, I thought I’d try something new with items I had lying around the house. I have wanted to try dying yarn for a while now and after doing some research on The Dye Pot, I took the plunge. Of course, I can never start with something simple. I wanted to get rainbow yarn. Yes, all the colours. And I wanted it vivid. Hey, you can’t fault me for aiming high. So I soaked some Briggs and Little natural yarn in some dish soap for an hour, measured out 20 drops of red, yellow and blue food colourings into separate cups of vinegar with ½ a cup of vinegar and got out the slow cooker. I wound the skein of yarn into the pot, poured enough of the soaking water in to cover the yarn and then added the dyes (a third of the pot for each), put the lid on and let it simmer on high for 3 hours. It did not result in a rainbow, but I am really pleased with the results and I am making Maine Morning Mitts for myself. (I’ve never been so excited about Easter coming before and all because I can buy more food dyes really cheap after it’s over!) I’ll save acid dying for summer time experimentation!

New Furnace
Remember back in, what October when I had a bad smell in the house and called in the duct cleaners…well, it took 3 months, but the new furnace has been installed and it seems to be working really well. I mean, the house went down to 50 degrees F while they tore out the old one and fitted the new one, vented outside, ran some new duct work and decided that a new chimney liner would not be necessary, and it only took 15 minutes for it to come back up to temperature and it didn’t burn the house down in the first 24 hours. Although, you may not be aware of this but, new furnaces are dipped in oil during manufacturing so that they won’t corrode before installation. So when you ignite them for the first time, the whole house fills up with smoke for about half and hour. And they have to vent the sucker with plastic pipe which they glue together with contact cement. If you are sitting in the right place in the house, you get high as a kite while you are trying to stay warm. Which didn’t make what I was doing any easier.

WIP Update
And what was I doing while I was high as a kite on glue fumes? Unravelling a monster snarl in a lovely ball of Handmaiden SeaSilk. For my Eunny Jang Print of the Waves shawl. I now understand the word “Patience”. It took 12 hours of picking, unwrapping, threading in and out, squishing the snarl from one side of the ball to the other, removing fluff that I was wearing off the delicate strands of now slightly fuzzy yarn that costs $40 a ball!!!!! Someone had better be paying attention to me when I say this: I will be buried in this shawl. I’ll have to be, to make all the effort worth it.

There are other things in the works.

Here is a sock I got done with some awesome Kaffe Fassett sock yarn. Sock yarn is expensive, but as obsessive compulsive hobbies go, my fibre fetish is giving me socks that wear like iron. Right now I’m wearing one of my first pairs and they are almost 10 years old. Not bad for a ball of string and some pointy sticks. Yes, I know I could buy a pair from Zellers for a buck fifty, but they have those gawd-aweful seams in the toes and the wear out too fast. Anyone who has had hand made socks understands.

I am also working on a hat for Bruce to wear skating on Sunday next. Or should I say, I’m about to cast on that hat. (Which means it is unlikely that I will have a second Maine Morning Mitt by that time. Only two hands. And one of them is injured.) Which leads us on to the next topic.

I’ve Broken Myself
I get carried away. I have too much fun. I do too many things. I should be tied to a chair with duct tape. You might just as well gag me too, so that you don’t have to listen to the foul language that would ensue from not being able to do the 10 billion things I like to do. Remember the marathon of music on Boxing Day? Did I fail to mention that? Yeah, Bruce and I went to our friends’ Cindy and Ross’s for a little music party on Boxing Day. We played for 7 HOURS. Imagine that! It hurt me is a kind of lasting sort of way. When I got back to work after the holidays, I had to get a new trackball and start using my left hand to mouse because typing was burning me. I do a lot of typing. You are reading this, so you know I type a lot. Playing the drum was also burning. And knitting is hurting too. And my back is out a bit. (It has been for 20 years).
So, I’m going to physio. Twice a week for 6 weeks. And a friend in the music community is coming over to try some Reiki on me. Tonight in fact. I’m quite excited about this and will tell you more about that experience later.

Stay tuned.

Reiki Elation
Well, may I recommend having a session of Reiki for pretty much whatever ails you. This hands-on healing method is really something else. It involves the channelling of energy though the body so that it can get into the congested and knotted areas of your tissues. Read more about it here. After a little over an hour, I felt balanced, rejuvenated, and virtually buzzing with energy. It was a wonderful experience that has left me (the next day) feeling calm—shocking, I know—and quite serene. I know that my back is still out of whack, but despite this, I feel that I’ll be better prepared for my next physio appointment and should get better results.
Organized Chaos
For those of you who have been to my house, you know the place is busy, chaotic and not in any way feng shui. By that I mean there are toys and balls of yarn and books and music, etc. all over the place in semi-organized piles. Don’t get me wrong. I can find stuff (usually, although there was the time I cleaned the office and threw away the children’s birth certificates…ah, good times), but I become overwhelmed by my surroundings from time to time and unlike other aspects of my life, I can conquer the mess (periodically). So in an effort to rationalize the kids’ play room, Dad and I went to Home Depot for lumber and we built some shelves.

And I liked them so much, that Bruce and I went to Canadian Tire and bought a new $35 book shelf for my knitting and design inspiration books to live in the living room without cluttering up the floor and fainting couch. It won’t take long to fill it up. But it feels really good to be able to browse through the patterns without having to lug them hither, thither and yon because they are always so reluctant to go back to yon.

Kromski 1 : Jen 0

2008-01-17T16:20:00.000-05:00

So I took the plunge like I said I would. I bought a spinning wheel. Meet Kromski.

And not just any Kromski. I bought their newest design. The travelling, fold up and put away from small hands Sonata. I quite love the fact that all of their wheels from Poland have musical names: Symphony, Polonaise, Mintrel, Prelude and Mazurka. Given my own background in music, I feel that there is a nice meshing of art and craft in that.

I purchased mine online from Cheryl at Gemini Fibres of Mount Forest. She was such a treat to deal with. I was very surprised to learn that the postman had been by the house on Monday morning to deliver it. Nice not to have to go to the package depot and lug the box home as it came up to my hip.

It arrived snug in its own carrier bag.

And was fairly easy to wrestle out.

And with a minimum of swearing while trying to read the instructions, it was easy to set up.
What you have to understand here is that I have never been acquainted with a modern wheel before. I own a Great Wheel, but I’ve never strung it up and tried to spin with it (and I’d been told that learning on it would be tough.)

But within minutes, I had it set up, oiled and what playing with the peddles. I wasn’t about to try to string any fibre to it. I started way too late at night for that nonsense.

I left that until last night. But Monday was all about making friends and listening to the nice zizz zizz zizz noise that it makes when you get the wheel going.

That said, last night after jamming for a few hours at the Ballygibblins Pub, Bruce came over to see Kromski. And he encouraged me to tie a leader (a long scrap of yarn) to the bobbing and give it a whirl. I had wrestled with my antique carders the night before (resulting in a lot of llama hair on my navy blue turtleneck) and had a few rolags (or roving rolls) ready to give a spin.

So I tied on the leader. And I made a loop in the end of it—just like Tulasi Zimmer showed me on The Joy of Handspinning website. I also referred to Teach Yourself Visually Handspinning.

Then I gave the peddles a go and whoosh, the leader shot out of my hand and back onto the bobbin. I adjusted the Scotch Tension brake, rethreaded and tried again. It seemed to work a bit better. So I grabbed a bit of fibre and put it through the loop and tried it again.

It spun around and around and around. It did not wind on to the bobbin. I adjusted the tension.

And the leader, which had become a curly cue or green yarn, snapped. The llama roving was a snarled mess. It was twisted though.

So I threaded a new leader and tried again…with the same results. So I tried again…with the same results. And then I thought, it’s way to late to be playing this game. And I packed Kromski back up and put him and myself to bed. Rematch tonight.

It’s No Wonder I Walk Funny

2008-01-10T13:27:00.000-05:00

I was just looking in my purse (affectionately dubbed The Black Hole) for my Memory stick. I had a hard time finding it. (I don't know about the rest of you purse-wielding Mommas, but every time I put something in my purse, it immediately falls to the bottom most inaccessable part of the purse. It's like there a special gravity just for purses.)

I had to pull out several things before I could get down to the level at which it may have been lurking. I had to take out more to peek in the hidey holes that designers think will help us organize our shit. I would have to say their pretty much highly-ineffective. So I thought, good time to clean up some of the detritus*. And as I pulled out this miraculous amount of purse stuff, I thought, ‘I gotta make a list.’ Am I the only one with this amount of weird stuff in my purse? (Note: this is my purse, not my knitting bag. That houses all sorts of its own kind of mysterious fun.)

1 Virgin cell phone (until 2 weeks ago, there were two phones)
1 dental floss (lemon flavoured Johnson & Johnson)
2 megabyte memory stick
5 lip stick type things
--2 Revlon overtime colourstay
--1 Maybelline moisture whip
--1 Clinique lipgloss
--1 Colour Factory lip gloss
1 Clinique eye shadow
1 Covergirl Professional mascara (but still applied by an amateur)
Tweezers
2 perfumes
--Clinique Happy
--Clinique Par Amour
1 Tide Pen (those of you who have seen me eat understand why)
1 SanDisk reader (and cord)
3 pens
1 tire pressure gauge
1 lip balm (Blistex DCT)
1 pouch for camera disks
1 eye glasses case (with eye glasses and cloth)
2 cheque books
1 hotel sewing kit
2 tourist pins from Gagetown
1 hair clip
1 pill box (with only 1 Advil in it)
1 calendar (R&R Auto)
1 wallet
1 Avon Silicone Glove hand cream (no longer available)
1 orange plastic “signet” ring
1 1¢ stamp
1 set of keys
1 receipt for taxes
1 bottle Bach Rescue Remedy (I used to give it to the dog during fireworks freak outs. Go look at the site, the Hollywood Stars testimonials are hilarious.)
1 bottle Tea Tree oil
1 paper clip
1 broken key fob for M&M Meats
1 shirt button
various mysterious "femme fatale" products

Weight: 4.5 lbs (without the dental floss which is sitting on my desk)

No whips
No chains
No knitting paraphernalia
No weapons (actually the keys could be used as a club)

Now, back before it had children, I had a tiny purse. Wallet, clip sun glasses. That's it. Not even a tissue. Now I've gone to Hell in a handbag. Although, if you look at that list, other than the ring, there isn't anything in there really for the kids. Perhaps I just quit lugging around my security blanket and replaced it with my purse. Therapy anyone?

* Just as a note, I’ve been saying detrius for at least 20 years. Who knew there was another T?!

Out with the Old and in with the New

2008-01-08T16:00:00.000-05:00

Christmas was great. At the time, it seemed to stretch out before us just like when I was a kid. Seemingly endless days of doing stuff with friends and family. Now that it’s over, I don’t know where the time went. There were get-togethers, there was music, there was knitting (of course). There was time with my family and Bruce’s. There was playing and sleeping (but not enough of that) and getting into mischief and much, much merry-making.

And now that January has come, I feel this incredible nesting urge. The glut of the holidays has left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by my blessings. There are baby toys and clothes that don’t fit. There are new things that need new homes. There is a great need for shelving and organizational structures. There is a need for storing of things that are appropriate for a Yard Sale. There is the itch to redecorate and when money is tight, ideas abound.

Is it like this for everyone? Do you throw out the tree and put away the decorations and discover that the holiday fluff was hiding a multitude of clutter sins? I’m not sure I felt this way last year. I’m pretty certain that I haven’t had this urge quite this strong ever before. But I’m jumping on the band wagon and getting rid of some stuff. And so…

Out with the Old

I am sorting, boxing and bagging children’s clothes and toys. There are also some baby books that I will sell or give away. I also have a full set of Baby Einstein DVDs.

I also have boxes on my books to get rid of. I think I’ll even take a look through the book shelves again to see what else can go.

Duplicate kitchen gadgets, dishes, pots and pans will be tucked away for yard sale or given to friends in new places.

This is going to mean a lot of lugging and processing and letting go. It’s going to feel good.

And when I lift my head up from the massive cloud of dust that’s all going to cause, I may pick up one of my lingering before Christmas knitting projects.

Currently On the Needles

The WIPs (that I can remember off the top of my head) are:

The Patons cabled turquoise vest in Briggs and Little worsted (given to my by Bruce’s mom).
Print o’the Waves stole by Eunny Jang in Handmaiden Sea Silk.
Elizabeth Zimmermann Baby Surprise Jacket for Ethan.
Selbvubotter Mitten (which is made of Russian wool and has a severe case of 2nd mitt-itis).
Pink hat for little girl (my own pattern).
Maine Morning Mitts for Bruce.
Mitred blanket for girls (my own pattern).
Kaffe Fasset toe-up socks (my own pattern)
Alice Starmore sweater from Tudor Roses
Kimono Shawl from Folk Shawls

Holy crap! I didn’t realize it was that bad! That’s a lot of knitting and it’s only one of my obsessions.

In with the New

Well, when I’m not ripping the house apart looking for things to get rid of sell or knitting on projects I’d like to finish this season (What? it could happen. I have until March 21 for it to be Spring.), I have taken on a couple of new challenges.

I am helping out with the Ottawa Knitting Guild’s 10th Anniversary edition of their newsletter, The Tangled Skein. Which means in the next short while, I am reading 10 years worth of newsletters and choosing some items I’d like to have reprinted.

As well, I have kind of decided that knitting just isn’t enough. Really, this is all my Dad’s fault as he is the one who brought a bag of llama “wool”/batt to my house. I haven’t weighed it, but when the digital scale arrives (also new) I will. I am suspecting there is more than a pound soft creamy yumminess. Those of you who know me well, or who have seen my yarn stash, may be getting a slight tingling feeling. Yes. A new obsession is dawning. Spinning.

To deal appropriately with this burgeoning obsession, I knew I would have to buy a wheel. I have actually owned a spinning wheel for almost 20 years, but I’ve never really thought of using it as it is one of those fantastic Great Walking Wheels. I was told at the Ottawa Valley Weavers and Spinners Guild that it would be very difficult to learn on so it has lain dormant for many years (and actually one of the things I need to do is find a spot for it in the house and get it set up again). So with that as a future option, I decided to buy myself a new, modern wheel. But I didn’t want one that looked freaky. I wanted a traditional style. And I wanted it to fold up to put it away. (I have 3 year olds who will want to learn to spin too.)

Let me introduce you to the Kromski. This baby is hand made in Poland by a family that has been making them for three generations. Although the travelling wheel has only been in production since 2006 it still has the spindle wheel that I find very appealing. It should be arriving next week.

In other news, Corkery Road is gearing up for a busy month. Saturday, January 12th (as in this Saturday) we are playing at JR’s Downstairs Pub in lovely Almonte. Saturday, January 26th we will be at the Naismith Pub (also in Almonte).

And the wrap up the Christmas/New Years revelries, The Barley Shakers and friends got together at the Carleton Heritage Inn for dinner and an evening of music and deserts. There are photos and even video. For pictures, look here. For videos, look here, here and here. NOTE: I’ll post those links when I get home.

Thanks to David and Joan for capturing the evening.

I know this is a huge post of randomness, but it does reflect the state of my brain at the turning of this year. I'll keep you posted on what arrives in the mail. Stay tuned for other New Things.

Surprise!

2007-12-18T14:48:00.000-05:00

A ways back, in October, we started talking about getting together for a party. You know you're busy when five couples have to start in October is wrestle down a date for a get together "sometime" before Christmas. But, when we decide to get something done, we get'er done.

Ann and Charlie hosted this fine soirée complete with turkey, mashed potatoes and (my favourite) stuffing! We also brought other dishes to augement this wonderful meal. But the fun really got going once the cake was brought out.

Cake? you say. Birthday cake. What could be better than hijacking a Christmas party to morph it into a surprise birthday party for a man whose birthday is just a little too close to Christmas? Well, Charlie, we heard your lament and we delivered.

This is Charlie just as Barb has pounced. He had that hat on before he even knew what hit him.

And then I made him exchange the pointy hat for this birthday hat.

This picture debunks a commonly held myth that man will not cry unless his dog or his truck dies, or he is hit with a hammer (by a menopausal spouse). He will deny it, but I think there was a touch of mist in his eyes.

This captures exactly how satisfying it was to have sprung the suprise without Charlie getting a whiff of it before hand despite so many knowing and so much going on behind the scenes.

A collection was taken for Charlie's new Par-tay Piggy Bank.

And a mysterious gift was left at the front door. It was touch and go as to whether it would fit through the door. It cleared the frame by a quarter of an inch.

Yes, it says "Fragil-ay" doesn't it. It was a Christmas Story done only like Anne and Jessica could have done it! They love you, man.

At this point, you could cut the tension with a knife. I, having never see the movie, had no idea what was going on. So I waited.

It was worth it.

Like a good, red-blooded male, Charlie was quick to check out the "hardware".

Congratulations Anne! You deserve a Home Depot membership for life. You know your way around that store. Not only did she and Jessica procure all the components of this masterpiece, Anne put that sucker together and ...

It works beautifully. Really, it's hard to tell which one has more glow on!

Then we set the party into festive celebration gear with sequin covered sparkley hats. I think we look like Pilgrims! And we're all still a bit sparkly!

Thanks so much, Charlie for being such a good sport.

Thanks to Anne for putting on such a wonderful spread. I could eat that stuffing every day.

And thanks to all participating delinquents who really made that party shocking, surprising and fun!

Hmm, who's birthday is next?

Barley Shaker Christmas

2007-12-18T13:19:00.001-05:00

This post is a little behind the times, but that's how it goes at this time of year. It is also VERY picture heavy, so John and Barb, go make some coffee.

On December 9th in the lovely hamlet of Middleville, Ontario, the local committe decked the hall and The Barley Shakers put on a smashing Christmas concert. We had a good turn out and the audience did a good job on all the carols.

I was really amazed at how fast the evening flew by and could hardly believe it when it was over. Here are some of the highlights. And thanks to Barb for taking some excellent pictures. You are now digital camera ready!

There was no knitting or rocking chair this year, but I can't say that I sat still for a minute. Luckily, this year there was no 3 week spell of laryngitis either.

Someone asked me if Laura had a concertina for all occasions, since this one is definitely festive!

Despite what it looks like in this photo, no hats or noses were impaled by fiddle bows and Bob doesn't really look that devilish in the flesh!

Our fearless leader, the Grand Pooh-bah told us stories of Christmases past.

Here our paparazzi photographer infiltrated the stage to get right in the thick of it all. I believe no injuries were sustained on the part of the photographer despite the flying fiddle bows.

It was Bruce's birthday!

And Barb's too.

During the break, Joan and her husband cut a rug.

Carleton Place's Citizen of the Year showed off his most festive vest.

We wondered if Joan and Liz were at the same party as this next bunch...

(I believe they were discussing back pain.)

See look, impish yes, devilish not so much. (Someday I'll figure out how to use the Red-Eye reduction feature on my camera).

Gavin was there with his bells on!

Bruce was making his exit to the stage...left!

John brought the house down with his fantastic rendition of Christmas in Killarney.

And after a round of door prizes, we finished the evening with We Wish You A Merry Christmas!

What an excellent night it was. Can't wait for next year!

Johanne's Fiddling Mitts

2007-12-14T11:36:00.000-05:00

Knitters of the world, this post is for you. I give you a FREE PATTERN for a quick holiday knit. Fingerless mitts for the musician in your life (or anyone else who would like to have warm hands and free fingers.

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine came up to me and asked if I would knit her a pair of these. The conditions were the following:

They had to be snug on her hands. As luck would have it, our hands are the same size (small) so this was not a problem.

They had to be warm.

They had to be burgundy. Or another suitably rich colour.

And they had to be beautiful enough to make the other fiddlers jealous.

You be the judge of that.

Johanne’s Fiddle Mitts

Pattern by: Jennifer Hoy
© All 9 Muses

These mitts are inspired by cold practice halls. Music warms the soul, but it takes time and effort. While waiting for the sweet strains to reach your hands, these mitts will allow you to keep your fingers on the strings without dropping your instrument!

These are lovely, stretchy mitts.

Size: Women’s small. To make larger mitts, go up in your needle size or switch to chunky yarn.

Finished Measurements: 7 inch hand circumference

Materials:
Patons Décor Burgundy
*My model is allergic to wool. If you wish to use 100% wool, pick your favourite worsted weight.

Needles: 3.75 mm

· Safety pin or stitch holder for thumb stitches
· Tapestry needle

Gauge: 6 sts/inch in stocking stitch

Notes
m1L by lifting loop between the stitches from the front, knit into the back of loop
m2R by lifting loop between the stitches from the back, knit into the front of the loop

Pattern sts: These mitts use a pattern with a 4 row repeat.
Row 1: k2, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 2: k1, mk 1*, k1, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 3: k3, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 4: sl 1, k2, psso, p2 (repeat to end of round)

*mk1 by inserting your needle from back to front in the ladder of the row below and knit into the back of the needle.

Pattern

Cast on 36 sts. Being careful not to twist the stitches, join work and k2, p2 until work measures 4 inches.

Start pattern
Row 1: k2, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 2: k1, mk1, k1, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 3: k3, p2 (repeat to end of round)
Row 4: sl 1, k2, psso, p2 (repeat to end of round)

Start Thumb Gusset. This thumb gusset is knit in between the first purl sts. While continuing pattern, start the thumb on the next row like this…

Row 5: k2, p1, m1R, *p1, k2, p2 (repeat from * to end of round)
Row 6: k1, mk1, k1, p1, k3 p1, *k1, mk1, k1, p2 (repeat from * to end of round)
Row 7: k3, p1, m1R, k3, m1L, *k3, p2 (repeat from * to end of round)
Row 8: sl1, k2, psso, p1, k5, p1, * sl1, k2, psso, p2 (repeat from * to end of round)

Continue doing this until there are 9 sts in between the first purl sts of the round.

Next row: sl1, k2, psso, p1, slip 9 sts for thumb onto a safety pin, cast on 5 sts, p1, * sl1, k2, psso, p2 (repeat from * to end of round)

Continue pattern sts until the mitt measures 7 inches
K2, p2 for ½ inch
Cast off in rib.

Thumb: Transfer 9 stitches from the pin onto two needles. Pick up and knit 5 sts along the top of the thumb.

Knit 5 rounds.

Cast off. Weave in the ends and darn up the holes at the base of the thumb (I can’t be the only one who gets these!) and play on!

Now, this is my first published pattern. If you find errors, let me know in the comments.

This pattern is for personal use only. I will post the pdf in the side bar. Just as soon as I figure out how.

My Bread Recipe

2007-12-14T11:30:00.000-05:00

I was asked by a friend at work to share my bread machine recipe for multigrain bread. This recipe is based loosely on the Black and Decker whole wheat recipe. But as with everything else, I've tweaked it a bit.

My bread machine makes bread with 3 cups of flour or a mix of grains that = about that much.

Place ingredients in the bread machine in this order:

1 1/3 cup lukewarm water
2 tbsp powdered milk
1 1/2 salt
1 tbsp honey or molasses or maple syrup
2 tbsp butter or margerine
1 cup white flour (all purpose or best for bread)
1 cup of whole wheat flour
A mixture (of pepitas (green pumpkin seeds), millet, spelt flour, sunflower seeds, almond slices, quinoa, oats, wheat germ, flax seeds or any other grains you like) that makes up another 1 cup of fibre. I use a few tbsps of each.
1 tsp yeast (bread machine yeast)

Now, sometimes this recipe makes really heavy bread that resembles nothing more than a cannon ball. You can feed those to the animals or eat them with stew or soup! The white flour usually takes care of the cannon ball. Make sure your yeast is fresh.

Cook in the bread machine on the Whole Wheat or longest setting. In four hours, you have wicked bread. Or something to stop intruders from stealing your things.

Counting

2007-12-06T16:34:00.000-05:00

Blessings, that is. I have had many, many blessings to count this week.

My children are healthy, beautiful specimens, for the most part. This week Fiona has had a fever and general malaise, but Tuesday night, her fever broke and we finally started to get more sleep. I am blessed that this does not happen more often.
My children are (sometimes) thoughtful and helpful. While I was cuddling Fiona in her sickness, Calla went to and fro helpfully and quite selflessly gathering things: tissues, toys, blankies, drinks. And she played quietly on her own so that her sister could have the Momma time she needed. Thank you Calla.
My car is going to be fixed. Some of you may not have known, but I was hit by a young lady in a hurry to get to school to write and exam. There was some damage done to my passenger rear quarter panel and the estimate was making me seriously worried that they would just write off my most excellent chariot. Insurance just called. It’s covered and my rates will stay just where they are. It was completely the fault of the other drive. Whew! I am also blessed that I did not have to write an exam after getting in a fender bender.
My Christmas knitting is underway and progressing. Not only am I enjoying the endeavour (remember this as it gets closer to Christmas and the shine comes off and I start to cry because I’ve bitten off more than I can chew), but I am designing things that will appear as patterns available for free on this blog. Knitters, take note.
Not only am I getting to it with the Christmas knitting, the flood gates of inspiration seem to have sprung open and I am getting ideas from every corner of my mind for all sorts of things—writing, knitting, music, gifts, house renovating, etc. Now my prayer is that I maintain the energy to act on them!
The Bell Sympatico gods smiled benevolently upon me yesterday. Previously, I had been cursing and swearing because Bell is a monopolistic monster and my current modem would not think of conversing with another company’s wireless router. I threatened to pull my accounts and leave Bell for good, but the technical support merely scoffed at this thought and put the phone down on his desk. He didn’t hang the damned thing up! And then he walked away. And then, because it is not enough that they could not fix the problem of a router that I could not use, they emailed me a Customer Satisfaction Survey! So after trying to figure out if anyone had a better deal and whether or not I could manage to save all of my saved emails (and there are a few of them as you might guess), I called their marketing department (another level of Dante’s Hell) and actually received help. For $2 more a month, I may have a wireless modem. Soon, I shall roam about my house surfing at will. I am blessed for my tenacity and my flexibility and most of all, that no one else heard me tear a strip off the *$(##**ing tech support manager. Eating crow is easier to do with words.
Although very few of you knew I was doing this yesterday, I went in for my very first routine mammogram. Guys, you will not get this, but every woman fears this unconditionally. My blessing here is that despite horror stories of bricks and hydraulic presses, of humiliation and degradation, of cold equipment and uncaring technicians with cold hands and cold hearts, I escaped unscathed, unhurt and with all the dignity I usually muster intact. I am blessed to have had such a caring and encouraging technician. I am blessed that I had the mental fortitude to go without caffeine for 3 weeks before I went (3 coffees in 3 weeks folks). There were those who said they didn’t see how that would help and frankly I don’t know that it did, but the results were pain-free testing. Frankly I’d have run with the bulls naked if someone told me it would help. I am also blessed with a well-rounded sense of humour to deal with the very fashionable paper bolero jacket and dental floss belt that they gave me to prance around in before and after your exam.
And lastly, I am blessed to have such a wonderful group of people who care about me and make me laugh. I would not be who I am without my friends and family. Thank you for all the support you give me.

Edited to include:

9. You folks are scarcely going to believe this: When I got home, I had a letter from the government (rarely a good thing). Remember back in October I had to pull together a whole load of information together for the tax department to audit my childcare expenses. Well, I got notice today: I filed everything correctly and no adjustments were needed in my taxes. That's a relief!

The Honeymoon is Over

2007-12-03T12:03:00.000-05:00

Remember last week I wrote a lovely little treatise on the magic of the first snow. I wrote of the ethereal quality and the way it coats everything, making it look clean and fresh. How the light glints off every flake and the hushed silence that fills the air with anticipation.

Well my dears, the only anticipation filling my air is that which comes before the Snow Plough. It looms large, like some mythical dichotomous beast. At once hoped for so that I may haul my sad carcass from bed and actually get to work (at 60 km/h) and dreaded as I know, a cleared road means a blocked in laneway.

This morning, there was a thick carpet of the White Hell covering the entire world (or so it seems to me). I had not heard the plough and hoped briefly that I might not have to dig myself out—that I could just glide over top of the foot of snow Mother Nature had blessed us with and slide out onto the street and swim up to the corner where surely I’d find a cleared road.
Ha-ha! T’was not to be. The plough had been by as I slept. And there were a couple of feet of snow at the road. But I was well warmed up by the time I got to it having had to clear a path TO the road first.

The only things I am thankful for this fine day in December are my snow scoop, “light and fluffy” snow (which still weighs a ton) and Ibuprofin. Tonight when I return home to likely have to do it all over again, I will be thankful for Rum. (Must remember to pick up a bottle on the way home.)

Bruce, wonderful man that he is, has offered to come and help dig me out tonight. I’m hoping that it won’t be another avalanche like this morning as he’s going to head home afterwards to dig himself out when he gets there.

I bet you want to know the ironic thing here (because there’s always some ironic thing going on: I have a snow blower. It is a huge beast that lives in my barn. It belches black smoke and flame and not so much throws the snow as it evaporates it, but none of this matters much. I haven’t the slightest idea how to 1) turn it on or 2) run it so that it doesn’t hit my car or the house for that matter. Yes, sometimes I am a silly woman.

Anyone know I good small engine repair guy who makes house calls?
Oh, I’d have attached a picture to this post but the background to my blog is white anyway. Just imagine that’s what it looks like outside…because it does. Everywhere I look.

And They Said It Couldn't Be Done

2007-11-26T15:11:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday night, the event of the year took place. Corkery Road and their loving spouses/partners in crime got together at Charlie and Ann’s for a soiree sans instruments. Now, we are a good group of friends and everyone did already know one another, but c’mon, the idea of not having instruments (or knitting) sent more than a few of us into a dither. Ok, I was the only one in a dither about the knitting. But Gord did give his accordions ample pets before he left Orleans.

However, we were in good hands. Barb, the evening’s event coordinator, brought games for us to play and Laura made the smashing suggestion of bringing along old photos of ourselves to share around the group.

Here we are ready to place our bets on the pony's. A roll of the dice (one for the colour, one for the number of spaces moved along the Red Sea) and every one got into the action. This was made even more fun by our group inability to tell the colour on the die because of the intensity of the Red Sea. These are some of Laura's winnings. As with any game, there are winners and losers. Charlie would like it if Barb could send the Red Horse straight to the glue factory.

Here, Hagen is feeling the intense love of the two-handled golf driver. At first, although knowing this club was a joke, I admit that I just didn't get it. Until I picked it up for myself...

This is the moment in which I light up the whole freaking room by the 100-Watt lightbulb going on over my head. I am obviously not built to play golf in the conventional style, but I could breathe while using the second handle too. Tiger Woods, eat your heart out. Thanks Ann for allowing us to come over to your house to play. I can't wait to do it again. Hey, wait, we are going to do it again. And soon!

First Snow

2007-11-23T19:48:00.000-05:00

I could tell by the quality of light filtering through my curtains in the middle of the night. At 3:30 in the morning, there was a soft whiteness to the glow coming in. Not like the cold light of the moon, nor the acetylene orange glow of the street lamps. One of my small children crawled in quietly and tucked in for comfort from a cold.

When I rose to take her back to bed, I drew apart the curtains before lying down again and gazed out in wonder. First snow is always ethereal. It falls softly, secretively. It coats the world in a cold, white rime.

When I left the house, the world was hushed. There was no wind, only the church bells tolling my lateness. What did it matter, Mother Nature provided me with ample views to ward of the madness that encroaches on the roads when the snow first falls. It took me an hour to get to work. Twice as long. At least I enjoyed every minute of it.

Tonight we are supposed to be getting 10 – 15 cm of it. I won’t think it’s that idyllic then.

What have I been up to?

Well, I’m Certifiable

However, this kind of certifiable means I will someday be able to put letters after my name, should I choose to indulge in pomposity. The Editors’ Association of Canada has developed a certification program to aide editors across the country in justifying their abilities, credentials, degrees, diplomas, and wages.

As with many ironic things, most people will pay a plumber or an electrician upwards of $70-80 an hour to fix something in their house, presumably because they haven’t the foggiest idea how the water and power works, and yet they believe that an editor is either unnecessary because everyone can write or that the money estimated to do a good job of making said writers look good will cost too much. Can you tell I might be the least bit passionate about this subject? I read what writers write. And, yes, some of them are really good. However, they are an exception. I presume it has much to do with the fact that reading is a dying art when faced with the options of High-Def TV and a multitude of terrible programming to choose from. Or I suppose there’s Warcraft and other video games to play.

So what I did was write exams for Copy Editing, Proofreading, and An Elementary Knowledge of the Publishing Process. These were gruelling skills-based exams that left me a gibbering idiot all three times. To prepare myself, I did practice tests for them that all left me feeling like I knew nothing about the profession I’ve been plying for more than 10 years. This knocks down the pride just a few marks off humble, let me tell you. However, the hit to my self-confidence made it possible to buckle down acknowledge the things I didn’t know and study them like mad. 80% is the pass mark. I hope I passed, because I’m none-too-ready to go and lug all those book around again any time soon.

Cape Breton Get-Together

As well, on the weekend Bruce and I travelled to Toronto to see friends of ours who also went to the Gaelic College this past summer. We enjoyed good company, excellent chowder and some tunes. I beat my drum until my exam-addled brain had to quit whereupon I finished a lovely hat for a friend of mine and closed my eyes to stop the thumping in my head.

What’s Coming Up?

Well, Corkery Road is celebrating their first year together by shunning their instruments and getting together to share food and talk. I am wondering what kind of twitching will be going on because of the lack of instruments in our hands, and I will profess now that I will also leave my knitting at home. Although it may kill me (33 days till Christmas, you know.)

Also, at the end of the month CR will be heading back into the studio to lay down 13 tracks for our first as yet unnamed album.

December 1^st, Bruce and I are going to see JIIG out in McDonalds Corners in a house concert.

December 9^th, The Barley Shakers are performing their Celtic Christmas Concert in Middleville. Last year was wonderful and this year is sure to be the same.

December 12^th the Rankin Sisters are doing Christmas at Centrepointe Theatre.

Then there will be the family madness…I mean Christmases. I love this time of year.

Update

Well, it did snow all that much over the last couple of days and the world does look like a wonderland. I bought a scoop and have cleared the laneway and the heavy crud left by that devil who plows the snow. How he managed to put so much of it in my walkway (impeding the Postal Worker from getting to my door), I'll never know. I suspect it's going to be a loooong winter.

And now, I have to reknit the foot of a sock (the same one I knit last night only to discover that it was too wide.) How these lapses in basic math occur, I know not.

Trick or Treat

2007-11-01T15:15:00.000-04:00

The day after Hallowe'en must be dreaded by teachers and parents everywhere. However, festivities were in full swing last night at the Carleton Place Jam.

First though, here is my duckling...

and my BumbleBee.

In their excitement, they would not/could not stand still and I have no idea what's going on with that shadow. They had their candies and were off into the night. They were 2 of the 5 children who darkened my door. Next year, I'm buying candy for me. Anybody want a tootsie pop?

At the jam, we had a pirate, a lumberjack, a devil sitting beside an angel (both playing harps), a jester, a bunny rabbit, a classy dude in a boler hat and a fancy dressed lady! Oh and for a change, we also had an audience.

Laura, I was told that your mother made that outfit when you were sweet 16. Is that true?

I don't care if they were clothes you had stashed in your closet, Bruce. You make a very convincing (and fetching) lumberjack.

Anyone recognize that pirate hat? Argh! I needed a pirate hat anyway! It was Fate, I tell you. Fate that I couldn't make that hat for John.
I don't know who is cuter in this picture, Barb or John.John liked his new birthday hat, even if it was still a bit damp! Now it will fit the exact shape of his head.

Sue, you are so devilish!
And Marian the angel. (I hope your knees are ok!)

I OWN TIME

2007-10-31T16:44:00.001-04:00

People often wonder how it is that I do so many things in my life. I seem to be the only person who makes people tired after telling them what I did on the weekend. Is it because I am all too willing to accept crazy challenges (even more so, blithely impose them on myself)? Is it because I have this need, this desire to be that over-achiever my inner C grade Public Schooler wanted me to be so badly (and that I actually mustered into being by Grade 8 much to my own astonishment)? Is it because I strive to do things (seemingly impossible things) for other people just to get them to like me?

No.

It is because I am nuts. And how has all of this become possible for me and perhaps not so much for you? Because I have become a Time Lord. (Without ever watching Doctor Who...because it scared the be-jeezus out of me when I was a little kid. I have been led to believe that it has come along way since the Darleks were disturbing tin cans and that the Doctor is a hottie, but still, this Time Lord can only bend it like Beckham for so long. Even I recognize that I have limits.)

So, I’ll bet you want to know why it was I had to bend time itself to achieve a crazy self-imposed goal. Well, it started with a little email from a friend of mine. Banjolina asked me if I could knit a cool hat for John in a week. No problem, I said. A week is a breeze. Lots of time. The hat was for his birthday on the Tuesday of that week to be presented at the next Corkery Road practice on the following Sunday.

So I went to the local yarn shop and proceeded to the wall of Paton’s Classic Merino, the most wonderful felting wool in existence. This yarn in charcoal I could not get. Nice mossy green, yes. But I wanted charcoal for the hat that was in my mind. So I turned instead to the Briggs and Little rack and picked up the required amount and thought, ‘It’s a 100% wool. It will felt.’ And went on my merry way.

I’ve made several of these Fiber Trends hats now. They are easy, fast, almost fool-proof. This yarn works really well. In a few hours you have a great gift for under $20. And the things are stylish and practically wind-proof (very good for Ottawa Valley winters). So, getting right on it, I cast on Monday night and was done the knitting by Thursday night. I was taking a leisurely pace because I had until Sunday to present the finished product.

I had Friday off, so while playing about with the children, I felted the hat. Normally this involves throwing it into a pillowcase, tying it shut (to save the washing maching from a linty death) and run it through a hot cycle once, maybe twice. After three trips in the pillow case alone in the machine, I added my towels to give it more agitation. I still hadn’t shrunk down to the size it should have been. To the size it would have been had it been Patons Classic Wool.
So I removed it from its pillowcase and let it commingle with the towels for a go or two. Then I threw it in the dryer, thinking, ‘Ha. That’ll fix you, you bastard.’

Not so. And still I did not give up. The fact that it did not shrink any more than it had already shrunk after the third try, should have made me pause. But I had the fever on me then. And not enough time to begin again. What did happen though when I let it take its trip with the towels is that it became covered, nay encrusted with towel lint.

So for all my efforts and my hot water bill, I had a furry hat that only a giant could wear. Great.

I confessed the whole affair in the car on the way out to the outer reaches of Orleans while John and I travelled to our music practice. We laughed about it. But in my mind I thought, ‘He’ll be at jam on Wednesday night’ as in tonight.

So, Monday saw me back at Yarn Forward when I once again stood in front of the Patons Classic Wool, clawing down the lovely mossy green wool and I headed off to now complete a knitting feat. I would knit and felt that sucker in 2 days. (Keep in mind I do not knit during regular work hours….lunch doesn’t count as anyone who has seen me take me knitting for a walk will attest to.) So, Monday after the girls were in bed, it was GAME ON. I cast on and worked like a fiend. A fiend with a splitting headache. I got 4.5 inches done. Things did not look good for the deadline. However, a good night’s sleep rid me of the headache and last night, I called down the moon and bent time to my will. In 3 hours, I burned through countless stitches and sewed the top stitches together, tied it up in it’s pillowcase, tossed it in the laundry on hot and went to bed.

In the morning I had this. It might still be a bit moist, but most recipients of knitted items have encountered this.

Oh, yeah, I also had my knitting mojo kicked in the arse again last week. I bought some lovely yarn at the Real Wool Shop. Wendy Fusion 50/50 wool acrylic in a wonderful varigation with sea green, deep blue, aqua, to a lime green. It looked magnificent in the ball. It looked like ass in the hat I made. The Pinwheel Hat that I had gotten from The Yarnpath blog is a beautiful hat. I don’t advise variegated yarn. Not so nice. So, it’s going to be frogged and turned into a scarf and I’ve already bought some replacement Patons Décor to do another one.

I am one stubborn woman. Who has the ability to bend time. Remind me of this around Christmas time when I may need help to bend it as much as I’m going to.

For now, Happy Hallowe'en!

If music be the food of love…

2007-10-24T16:41:00.000-04:00

I have heard a few people, quite recently, express that music has changed their lives. I have been one of these people, myself.

What is it about music that makes us sing, play, dance? At a very fundamental level, it echoes our heartbeat (or perhaps echoes the beat of our mother’s heart while we were still in the womb). Is this why music is present in every culture in the world?

At a literal level, it can raise our heart rate. Put on some good dance music and get your chores done in a hurry. It can also lower it when we are living a little too close to the edge.

It can change our moods. It can bring you up when you are down. It can level you out when you have been firing on all cylinders for just too long. It gives us a feeling of presence when everyone else is absent, lost or just plain gone. It can make you anxious, if you are not careful about what you’re listening to. For example, might I suggest that Wagner’s Ring Cycle is inappropriate listening during rush hour traffic on, say, a hockey night.

It is enriching, energizing, cathartic. It makes our brains work, even without our knowing. Brain function is engaged when we tap our feet, when we decide whether or not we like a tune, a riff, a lyric, a voice, an instrument. When we memorize a song, when we learn to play it or sing it back. It keeps our minds well exercised. It can even provide a bone fide workout. (I play the drum, I know whereof I speak.)

It gives us a reason to go out. It opens up communities of like-minded people. It brings us together and binds us in rhythm, beat and harmony It gives us a common goal or understanding for one precious moment in time. I fondly remember the dance halls of Cape Breton and all the lucky people who can kiss goodbye their gym memberships because there’s a dance every night of the week if you’re willing to travel to it.

There is a special camaraderie in a musical group. The very idea of a disparate group of people from all different walks of life, with different jobs and personalities, coming together on a regular basis just for the enjoyment of playing the same kind of music is magical. For many of us, it is integral, vital, healing, downright nourishing to our very souls. The groups I am associated with have become like family. From mere acquaintances, I have found community. A place where I am liked and accepted for who I am. A place where I am appreciated for my talents. A space in which acquaintance can grow into friendship and in turn, can lead to love.

My life has been enriched by the music that surrounds me. It is as nourishing as any meal. It has helped me in the painful healing processes of my life and has given many, many rewards. Thanks Mom, for the heartbeat that laid down the first tracks which lead me through this crazy life.

Music is the food of love. Play on.

Happy Birthday Girls!

2007-10-16T20:25:00.001-04:00

Friends, Romans, Countrymen! Lend me your ears.

The girls have turned three. A triad of years to romp, stomp and roar. Thrice twice in fact. Having two three-year olds fills the house like 10 children running and jumping and rolling around on the floor. Two three-year olds is practically your own orchestra! And music is one of their great loves. They love to sing. They love to dance. They like all kinds of music: Celtic, Cape Breton Fiddle, classical and, God help us all, country. I know they listen to it at Josie's.

Everyone enjoyed a fab party on Saturday. There were balloons, musical chairs (during which all participants cried) and a pinata! The floor was littered with excellent gifts! (If they didn't get the chance in the chaos and mayham to actually say thank you, they would like to extend their gratitude with chocolate covered faces.

The House Giveth

In other news, the weekend saw some modifications to the modified fireplace. A few years ago, my mom and dad had a gas insert that looks like an authentic coal fire installed in my hearth. I am extremely glad that they did this because if I had tried to light a fire in the original fireplace, I'd have burnt the house down. No liner and billion years of detrius laying around it. As he was digging out the old, icy tiling that surrounded the original coal box, he found a couple of very interesting items.

A Christmas card that looks like it came from the 20's or 30's. Santa drives a Model T Ford and is tossing presents for all the good girls and boys as he put-put-puts through the Christmas Eve night.
(Don't be surprised if you receive one of these for Christmas this year!)

And a tin picture frame from an insurance company. It says:
The Reliance Loans and Savings Company of Ont
Toronto
Loans made on Improved Farms and City Property
Debentures Issued and Deposits Received.

It's got an Art Decco flare to it and two little girls in bonnets are peering out a window into a water colour landscape. And there is room in the bottom right for a photograph to go.

There was also a box of fish food which had instructions on keeping your gold fish alive and well which was stamped by a pharmacy in Carleton Place. No date though.

It doesn't quite make up for the fact that I have to replace the furnace, but there is some balance there.

Domino Effect

2007-10-02T21:46:00.000-04:00

There are things conspiring against me. Things that I myself have set into motion. These things set other things in motion that keep me from doing what I wish to be doing. Regrettably, these things are also unavoidable and the chain reactions MUST be dealt with.

Domino #1

Perhaps the most difficult to overcome: work. Yes, 44 hours one week and 36 hours the next and still more of it when I get home. Knowing that most of us suffer from this malady does not lessen the load I am currently juggling at work. As an editor, I find there is a tidal effect with work. Sometimes the tide is in and the work is fast and furious. Sometimes the tide is out and things move at a more leisurely pace. Right no the tide is IN. Now, if this were the only domino in question, it would not be so bad....Enter the next domino

Domino #2

Editing Certification. Most of you are aware that I am an editor of several years experience now. The Editors' Association of Canada has devised a wonderful certification program by which we can all gain more respect and, dare I say, a bit of well-earn prestige in the workplace. Lovely. Yes. I, of course, being me, have decided to take all three of the available courses:

Elementary Knowledge of the Publishing Process;

Proofreading; and

Copy Editing.

This involves separate study guides and practice exercises and the testing to be done in November. I have also tied this testing to my work performance review. So, I'm really going to put some effort into this. But of course, considering the nature of domino #1, it may be difficult to get much studying in during the now non-existent slow period at work. This has also spawned the need to write up a training plan to submit to HR for reimbursement for the testing and study materials.

These two dominos alone, I could handle quite nicely. But, they aren't the only ones.

Domino #3

The smell coming from my cold air vent. It's that time of year again. The Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beasties, come back into the house for warmth. Occasionally, some accident befalls one and for some unknown reason, they perish in the cold air return. For a few days I thought it might just be the damp coming out of the basement. However, inspection of the basement revealed that it was no more damp than usual. This is Carleton Place and my basement is typical for the over century old set of houses. The floor is bedrock. The walls are stone. It is as old as dirt. But I digress. After a few more days, the smell changed to that of some kind of CSI crime scene. How can one mouse do that? It makes me thankful I've never and I am likely never to stumble across a larger carcass. Especially not in my cold air return. So, you're wondering now, what's the spin-off on this one. Wait for it. This one's a good one. So I thought to myself (and Bruce gave a helpful suggestion), better get the ducts cleaned. That should take care of the problem. And while I'm at it, I'll just have the furnace serviced too. Want to be safe for the coming winter. They tend to be cold (-40 deg C cold). Yep, that's cold enough to freeze the balls off your average brass monkey.

So, the dudes from Ed's Home Comfort showed up today to "service" my furnace and for my money, they told me that if it were in their basements, it would have been gone long ago. And they didn't advise trying to get another winter out of it. It is 26 years old and really didn't heat parts of the house anyway. BUT, it does create a bit of a cascade. Now, I've had to call an energy efficiency inspector because...I'm about to say something that doesn't come out of the mouths of Canadians very often...God Bless the Government (both Federal and Provincial) because we have an Energy Efficiency program that will give me a bit of a break on the price because I am retrofitting my house which is older than dirt. NRCan requires a blower door test which will effectively and scientifically tell me what I already know: my house leaks air like a sieve and is not terribly efficient in its usage of our precious energy.

This has to be done before I can get the new furnace. Check the date folks. Time is running short before potential snow fallage. Eeegads!

So what am I going to do now that I have poured my heart out to you? I'm going to start another knitting project, but this time, it's just for me. All for me. Not for Christmas. Not for a loved one. Not for a rainy day. Not just in case. No. I am going to start this: The Aran Accent Vest from Patons Cables book (No 500846). And I am using a yarn that was a gift to me from a wonderful lady, Bruce's mom Joyce.

It is Briggs and Little 2 ply in dye lot #308 from goodness knows when in a lovely seafoamy blue. I'll show you pictures when it's underway.

I have also finished a couple of pairs of socks for my beloved. The first pair are done in Austermann Step with Aloe Vera in # 3 Gras. These were my first socks done all to measurement and using a simple sock recipe. I did a swatch to see how many stitches I'd need to make socks that wouldn't cut in to his ankles or calves. You can see from the picture, cutting in isn't going to be the problem. Far from it. Falling down is the trouble. They may get frogged even though they are done. Or perhaps gifted to someone with larger feet. The whole point was to learn something from the process. And learn I did. You can start the toe an inch sooner than you thought and things will work out just fine. Ribbing down the leg is advisable if a bit boring. They are socks. How interesting do they have to be? Now that I understand better the size I'm dealing with, I can knit better ones. Which I did.

These babies are made with Briggs and Little sock yarn. 100% wool and not to be put in the dryer. However, you will notice that they fit the feet much better than the green ones. Learning has occurred. My inspiration for this pair was from Maud at the Garn Boet - Yarn Nest, and one of my favourite blogs to read. Check her out! Like her soccer socks, I used a knit 3, purl 1 rib all the way down to the toes (stocking stich on the under side of the foot). This gives them a nice appearance and is a bit better to knit than k1p1 ad nauseum.

Well, that just about wraps it up for tonight. I'll leave you with a couple of pictures from the gigs of a couple of weekends ago. The International Ploughing Match where it appears we were playing in a cage just like the Blues Brothers, but really it was a flatbed trailer stage that faced south on a hot, sunny day and we all got BURNT. It was amazing and the crowd stuck it out with us without a shred of shade for most of them. The best part was my personal cheering section at the back (ironically in the only shade) my girlies and my parents and their friends. Nothing like playing to a stacked and packed crowd.

And the Russell Celticfest. A whole day and evening of excellent music, pipe bands and storytelling. We didn't have to play in a cage in Russell. But I bet Big Jeezus Truck should have.

Concerts, Fairs and Bad Manners

2007-09-19T15:27:00.000-04:00

At this exact moment in time, I am wedged between to fantastic weekends chocked full of wonderful events. Journey back in time with to last weekend.

We at Chez Hoy kicked of the weekend on Friday--as any great weekend should--by finding an excellent new home for our family dog, Shiela. I had been struggling for a long time, trying to fit in enough time to make sure she got all the exercise and attention she needed and try as I might, I just couldn't do it. So I interviewed a bunch of really nice people and found a young couple who attend the University of Ottawa who were delighted to have her in their family. So, the kids and I packed a picnic lunch and made a day of it. After we said our goodbyes, we went to meet Bruce at Dows Lake for a lunch in the sunshine. It was bliss. There were squirrels for the girls to chase and everyone stuffed themselves.

When I got home, I got to work letting go of two garbage bags of clothes that, even if they did still fit (and they didn't) would be so out of style I couldn't get away with wearing them anyway. People, I threw away bridesmaids dresses from three weddings I attended 15 to 20 years ago! What was I thinking?! On the upside, I have room in my closet now to get me some clothes that fit.

Saturday, the girls and I took in the Middleville Fair during the afternoon. This is a great place to take kids who really dig animals. There were Alpacas (I am teaching them at a tender age the beauty of luxury fibre) and bees and teams of horses, sheep, cows and fowl. We paid special attention to where we were walking. There's nothing quite like being in the middle of a crowd and having one of your children scream at the top of their lungs, "MOMMY WATCH OUT FOR THAT POO!" Can't say they don't listen. Good times.

On the way home, we took a slew of back roads and got to see the trees starting to turn. The area we live in is just on the cusp of the Autumn colour show. In the next two weeks, the hills will look like they are on fire. It is a fleeting time when the sun's light plays off the leaves, making everything around you appear golden. I love this time of year.

Saturday night, Bruce and I got our good duds on and headed into the city. I know, this makes it sound like we live in hicksville (and well, I sort of do, but that's besides the point) since we do in fact come into the city to go to work every day. However, Saturday night was special because we were going to the National Arts Centre to see Loreena McKennitt's Ancient Muse Tour. I have had the privilege of seeing her three or four times now and she never fails to enthrall her audiences. It was stunning. It has been far too long since I completely indulged in her music and that's got to change. Just a magical evening completeing a wonderful day.

Sunday, after getting groceries, hanging out laundry and making lunch (there must be balance between work and play. We all need clean undies, after all) we headed off to the Richmond Fair. Living within 40 minutes of at least 20 small towns really does give you endless entertainment in September. Having gone to the Perth Fair a couple of weeks ago, the girls were primed for rides and animals and treats and the fair certainly delivered. I had taken the kids to the Perth Fair on my own and found that they are just small enough to require an adult to go with them on most of the really good rides but most of those rides only allowed for 2 per carriage or bucket or whatever. So, we were stymied on a few of them, but I promised that we'd drag Mr B along with us the next time so that everyone could enjoy the rides. That said, we dropped a load of cash for the tickets and went on all the rides the girls wanted to go on! I will admit that I was just as scared as they were on the Ferris Wheel, but I sucked it up and we had a great time.

This is Fiona's paparazzi pose.

This weekend coming will be filled with music. On Friday afternoon, Corkery Road will be making its international debut at the International Ploughing Match in Crosby Ontario. We are schduled to play for 1.5 hours from 1 pm to 2:30. If'n yer gonna be in the area, drop by the Leeds-Grenville County Showcase stage. That's where we'll be making history!

On Saturday, we'll be hitting the road to Russell for their first Celticfest. And thereafter, I susupect we might be in a bit of need of a lie-down.

And now for the Bad Manners part of the post...no, no, everyone, it will not be a divulging of my own bad manners (although I totally would if I realized it was me). No, this is addressed to the man who pulled up behind me at the brand-spakin new TD Canada Trust drive-through bank machine in Carleton Place just as we were heading off to the Richmond Fair. Now folks, I don't know about you, but in my hardly ever humble opinion, drive-through bank machines were made for orangutans or men with long arms. No matter how close to taking off my mirror I get (and I can get pretty close to it) I still have to take off my seatbelt, throw the car in neutral, pull the parking brake (newsflash to anyone who didn't know I drive a standard transmission), haul my carcass half-way out of the car to lean over far enough to just be able to shove the card into the slot and key in my vital statics, praying all the while that I don't make a mistake because I suspect I'm cutting off circulation to something important...like the entire lower half of my body.

Now, I was just getting out some cash to cover the ransom for the ride tickets at the fair. I was not paying bills, transfering monies from foreign accounts. No, I was not checking my account balances, nor was I arranging changes to my mortgage or opening a new account. A simple, fast (in my opinion) transaction, with no keying errors.

There was one car that pulled up behind me when I was already half way through my transaction. I got my money, retrieved my card and receipt, still hanging half out of the car. Pulled myself back into the car and opened up my wallet to put money in and card back. And before I could stick the bills in my wallet, the jerk behind me honked his horn for me to hurry up.

People, honestly, do you throw the car in gear the moment your arse hits the seat, before putting your money away, before putting your seatbelt on, before you are ready?! Even if you do, I do not.

So I flipped him the bird. Which made the guy go snakey, but what could he do? He was still behind me and HAD to wait until I got my seat belt on (I'm just a stickler that way) and got into first (it is the one that I take care with so that I don't waste more precious time starting the car again after I've stalled it...this car behaviour is usually reserved for left-hand turns when the light has already gone yellow) and slowly and cautiously pulled away (safety first, I did have the children with me). And what does he do, but roll down his window to give me a flippy comment as he's getting ready to use the machine with his long manly arms. I bet the bastard didn't even have to take off his seat belt (if in fact he was wearing one to begin with.)

It was everything I could do, I swear, to go past the drive-through entrance and not come up behind him and honk. However, the thought of having to back up through the obstacle course to get out of there was the clincher, so instead I nobly ignored whatever it was he said and prayed fervently that the children didn't catch the bird-flipping move, 'cos, you know, that's all I need them to do the next time I'm waiting in line at the grocery store!

Next time, I'll discuss my Little Black Thumb and the total and utter failure of all my gardening efforts this year and why this should lead you to go forth and send me seed heads from your garden...you know, where good garden karma grows. And because I'm too cheap to go and spend $500 on plants.

Have a great weekend folks!

Work in Progress

2007-09-13T16:34:00.000-04:00

Now this could be a way of describing my life, but I'm shooting for something a bit less philosophical here (and by the way, am I the only one who has trouble spelling that?).

Anyway, I led a bunch of you to believe that there would be knitting on this blog. So far, there has been yarn, yummy, yummy yarn...ahem. Sorry, I got a bit out of hand there. But to date, no knitting. Let us rectify that situation.

As most of you are aware, I am pretty much continuously knitting. I carry it around like Linus carries his blue blanket. And there are many projects on the go. This is all quite normal if you are a knitter. You may ask yourself (if you are not a knitter), how does one manage 10 different projects all at the same time. Just the same as if I only had one project on the go (and how boring would that be...not to worry though, I'll never know): one stitch at a time. But stitch on stitch and row on row, things appear. However, I am not always the best at following instructions eventhough I am assuredly quite literate (I am employed as an editor after all). You see, I was about to say that all of this obsessive-compulsive knitting turns out garment after garment, but with the instruction reading impairment, sometimes I knit ashtrays. Most of the time, however, this is correctable and furthers my learning in both the art of knitting and adds to my store of patience.

And so, without further ado, I give you my current fun and easy thing I'm knitting (you'll get to see the others later). I have been watching the blogosphere for some time and seeing all sorts of knitters churning out Mitred Square blankets. I thought that this was an interesting thing to do, but it was pretty far down on my list. Until I saw Ann Budd's Quilt Blocks to Knit on Interweave's Piecework Magazine. Sure her pattern called for thread and some crazy small needle size because it was for a greeting cards, but I figured in a chunky yarn on 6mm needles, I should get a reasonable sized square. You see! I DO think before I try my experiments in knitting. Anyway, here is the result so far...and for all you fibre snobs out there, stop reading now. My blankie is made out of acrylic. With two 3 year olds, being able to throw it into the washer and dryer is a must for anything that is going to get sneezed on, barfed on, food on....you see where this is going.

The girls each grabbed one of the squares last night and professed their undying love for their blankies. Imagine what they'll think when the whole thing is done.

I got this yarn from a co-worker whose MIL had decided a decade ago that she was going to take up knitting....by starting with a blanket. This is how I acquired a bag-load of phentex chunky weight acrylic in (I have to say it) pretty great colours. Now, I would not knit a sweater or a scarf out of this stuff, but for snuggling down to watch a movie, it'll do just fine.

Cape Breton Part III

2007-09-04T14:35:00.000-04:00

Onwards to new places

I'm starting to think I'll be posting about this trip until Christmas (which, knitters is less than 4 months away). Where were we? Oh yes, the end college. After picking up a few things in the College Gift Shop, we bid goodbye to St Ann's and made our way to Lake Ainslie where we rented a cottage for a couple of nights. We were going to take in the South West Margaree Dance, but after lying down for a short nap and waking up 12 hours later, we decided that we really needed to catch up on the sleep instead!

This is what the place looked like...

But, this is what we looked out on...

Not bad, eh!

On Saturday, we went for a little visit to Dunvegan where my buddy Jac and his lovely wife Laurie are camping for (wait for it) 7 weeks. We had a wonderful lunch during which I sighed and smiled a lot. This is living. Here is the view from the camper. I can see why they stay. After lunch, Laurie took Bruce and I on a hike down to the beach to enjoy the surf and the turf. At first the water was seriously cold on my sand-baked feet, but I got used to it. We had a good bob in the ocean and fell asleep in the sun on the beech. And for our efforts, got sun burnt. The sun knows when you fall asleep and then he gets out a huge magnifying glass and just smokes you. We are still peeling 3 weeks later. :-)

That night after a nice meal at the Red Shoe, we went to the fabled West Mabou Dance and it was everything I had come to expect. No pictures though. Bruce did not sit down the entire night. My knees can only take one set of dances at a time, but not Bruce! He could literally dance all night! The hall was filled with people--tourists at the back and a mob of locals at the front--and Sandy MacIntyre and his band cranked out jigs and reels for 4 hours without much of a break! Thank God the air outside was cool because that hoppin' hall was HOT.

The next day (after sleeping in a bit), we started on the Cabot Trail. Now, I've always wanted to do this part of the trip, and despite being in Cape Breton at least once before, I had not achieved this goal. Well, if the Fates had kept me from it before, I was certainly not disappointed. It took us all day to wind along the roads and through the Cape Breton Highland National Park and we were tired at the end of it, but it was worth it.

We started on the West side of the island at the Margarees (all of them, North, South, East, West, SSW, SSE, EWW, I don't know how emergency crews find these places...oh wait, they know every body), following the road

up to Cheticamp where we had scallops for lunch and bought a pile of music near Pleasant Bay. Now the trail is a challenging drive full of twists and turns and steep inclines. Not for the faint of heart. I'm seriously indebted to Bruce for doing this leg of the driving. There were moments when I had a good grip on my door rest and I may not have completely appreciated his fervent wish that the brakes stayed in fine working order.

There is something you should know about this stretch of road, people. If you are driving an automatic transmission car, you are in for a beautiful, windy, panoramic drive . If you are driving a standard transmission car, you are in for a beautiful, windy, panoramic drive with adventure built in. Because the way is steep, with hairpin turns and lots of switchbacks, you really have to know what you're getting into beforehand and be ready to put the hammer down and give 'er on the way up. Those who insist on taking their campers through the park without a full knowledge of this little tidbit need to get their heads examined! Not only are these vehicles large and usually have manual transmission, they catch the wind and are rather difficult to see around, especially when one has not put said hammer down and all the power drains out of the camper on a hairpin turn in the middle of a long upward stretch where there is no hope of a pull off for miles. This is a crappy place to COME TO A COMPLETE FREAKING STOP forcing those behind you to PULL OUT BLINDLY on a curve where anyone coming downhill is just trying to gear down to stop their brakes from catching fire! You know who you are.

Here is my world famous Cape Breton fiddler.

And likewise, the drummer...(seriously folks, when we were in Pictou, I saw a woman wearing the exact same outfit. She has some excellent style!)

And when we saw the sign that read "Alternate Scenic Route" we looked at one another and decided then and there to take the road less traveled. And this is what we saw:

We saw a bald eagle hunting here. This is Neil's Harbour, at the edge of the world.

After an exhausting day (the trail took 7 hours to drive with stops), we ended up in Sydney, home of the giant fiddle. It is easy to find Syndey, however, once you are there, it is difficult to find your way out or around or through because of a rabbit warren of one way streets, a preponderance of roads without signs, a total lack of grid system for the roads because they follow the lay of the river, and the fact that the electricity goes out occasionally because some shmo is trying to steal copper from the lines! I am not kidding you. Finding your way out of Syndney without the help of road signs or LIGHTS is tricky indeed.

And we stayed at the Lingan Bay B&B. A nice place. Interesting view:

The Quaint Church next door

The Bay

The massive coal-fired power plant 2 blocks away (complete with 7 wind turbines). Can you say Pink Floyd?
We went to Louisbourg and after a full day of 1750s adventuring we went for my lobster dinner at the world famous Fortress View Restaurant...from which you could NOT see the fortress. Maybe in 1955, you could see the fortress from there, perhaps.

We saw the Hector in Pictou. This is a replica of the ship that brought the first settlers from Scotland to the area. After we were done reading half of the extremely detailed displays in the interpretive centre, I felt like I had taken the 12 week journey in the bowels of that boat. Still, it is a municiple project which I think is very ambitious and deserves the price of admission.

We also stopped at Grohmann Knives, one of Canada's knife manufacturers. Everything here is made in Nova Scotia.

We went to see a mill that was without at miller for the past year and therefore was not running. And at the same stop were told that the steam-driven saw mill had been closed due to public safety issues and they could no longer provide us with directions to the beautiful water fall in the area because some idiot had decided to climb to the top and jump (to his death) . Too bad Evil Knievel had to do it in front of his son. Three strikes for us and we moved on to Halifax.Where I got to meet some of Bruce's friends (and now I'll say they are mine too), Diane, Ian and Nolan. Sadly, as I had my tourist hat on, I neglected to take pictures of Diane and Ian, but did get a good one of Nolan.

And we enjoyed our sightseeing in Peggy's Cove (which was 10 minutes away from a bright, sunny day...Maritime Fog) and the Citadel.

And for those knitters amongst you...there was yarn. We stopped in Baddeck at Baadeck Yarns where Patricia made me feel most at home and Bruce had a wee snooze in an arm chair while I browsed. This is what I came home with...

yummy, scrumptious goodness. These colours, I was told, are done up just for shops in Cape Breton. I'm thinking there will be two lace shawls and a dandy pair of socks out of this haul.

Near Margree Harbour, I saw a sign that said, "Will ewe stop?" And we did. My only regret about this shop is that I did not buy more. At $4.99 a skein, I was a fool to only pick up these...

In Pictou, we went into a gift shop to pick up some pressies for the family and Bruce pointed out that there were felted hats like I make in the back corner. And there was some wool back there too. Is there any wonder why I love this man like I do? So I bought a few skeins of undyed wool for trying my hand at home dyes.

And on the way home, we made a side trip to Briggs and Little Woolen Mills where I was completely overcome by yarn fumes when we discovered that we had arrived 5 minutes before they closed! Rest assured, I can work quickly when under pressure.

Here is a picture of the complete haul. I almost feel ashamed of it all. The decadence. The over abundance.

And when I came home....what should be waiting for me, but my Bee Fields shawl kit designed by Anne Hansen of Knitspot fame and wool dyed and spun by Wooly Wonka's fibres. Can it get any better?

Isn’t everybody’s life like this?

2007-08-29T12:17:00.000-04:00

I am having one of those days. We all have them.

I woke up when the phone rang. My children’s nanny calling to say she’s got a migraine. Can’t come in to work. Bummer. I hate having a migraine so I can really commiserate.

No problem, got a backup plan and a back up babysitter. Lay in bed a few more minutes and then get up to wait for the girls to come home from their over-night with their dad. Greet J, as the children are late in arriving and head up to the shower. When I get out, discover that I’m not going to see them this morning because their dad has over-slept. (Glad I used the time wisely and had already made my lunch.)

No problem, will see them when I get home tonight. Too bad though, I miss not seeing them in the morning. Might just get to work on time today though. The irony of this statement smacks me in the head as I put the parking brake on and wait for a long train to pass by. And then get stopped by construction work, and this all before I can get outta Dodge.

Still, I had my coffee: all was not lost.

You know, I used to write stories about “The Worst Day Ever”. The kind of story that started off getting up late and being late for all the disasters of the day. Well, sometimes life is like that and, as always, stranger than fiction. (And, thank goodness, so far my imagination is still worse than my reality…most days anyway…with a few lapses into the Land of Exception.)

So, I was chatting with J this morning while I was waiting for Calla and Fiona’s arrival. You know, just catching up after the weekend. And she said to me, “Man, your life is just too much!” And I asked her, “What, you mean other people don’t live this way?”

So, this prompted me to think. (I know we all understand this is never a good thing, but it can be entertaining.) Is my life really all that different from yours? (You, the Collective You of all the people I know…well those of you who know about this blog.)

1. Doesn’t everyone have hobbies that they obsess over? Ok, so I have multiple hobbies that I obsess over, but that’s the whole premise behind the blog, now isn’t it.

2. Doesn’t everyone have issues with their family? C’mon, you don’t have to admit it to me, but you know you do.

3. Doesn’t everyone fly by the seat of their pants from home to work to home, just praying that they remembered to pick up milk and their fly is up? (OK, tonight I need to remember that I am almost out of TP.)

4. Doesn’t everyone juggle work life and private life and family life? And music life, and knitting life and friends and loved ones and cleaning and laundry. Ever seen one of those guys spin plates? How many could I possibly keep spinning without getting spun myself. Hmmm, spinning. That’s something I’d really like to learn someday….shit, that’s exactly the kind of thinking that’s gotten me where I am so far.

5. Doesn’t everyone have plans that stretch into the unforeseeable future, with every weekend booked with something. I’m so freaking busy. I do have some time open…I’m looking at November right now. Is that a good time for you?

6. Doesn’t everyone go away from time to time and find that they’ve been ripped off while on vacation?

7. Doesn’t everyone have to deal with the Police from time to time? You don’t? What are your tax dollars going to then, if they are not working for you?!

8. Doesn’t everyone have pets with issues and big decisions to make regarding them?

9. Doesn’t everyone have dust bunnies lurking under some furniture? OK, a little more honesty is needed here: mine are buffalos…and they roam.

10. Doesn’t everybody go a bit nuts every once in a while? Alright, you in the back, yes, I am a bit more prone to the craziness than you are, but really, is my life really all that more exciting than yours?

So, yes, perhaps I’m living a little closer to the edge than a lot of you. But I remember, in my teens, trying to fill my days with lots to do so that I could fall asleep better at night.

Well, it worked. I’ve left insomnia behind for that sleep deprivation-induced haze called full-time-working-mother-of-twins-happily-dating-and-having-a-life-rich-in-friends-and-full-of-music-and-other-cherished-activities. No drugs needed to sleep here at my house.

So, to fill you in, since of course beyond the laughs, you are here to hear what I’m up to (otherwise known as how my life is holding me ransom this week…film at 11…if I can ever figure out how to upload video, that is), I had a lovely weekend in Midland visiting Bruce’s family and to celebrate his parents’ 60th wedding anniversary. And came home to discover that shenanigans had taken place at my humble abode whilst I was abroad gallivanting. Someone who should never have been in my house, was allowed in to use the washroom to change her clothes and walked out with my UWO University ring, a ring I was given by my parents as a child, and some costume jewellery necklaces. Oh, yes, and my entire collection of 1973 Mountie quarters. I’ve been collecting them since I was 10. And the ten year old in me is pissed. I’m not going to say what the 35 year old in me is thinking about that. And that’s what I’ve noticed so far.

So, the girl, T, who was responsible for looking after my place and feeding and taking care of Shiela, my dog, was on the phone on Monday calling all the persons of interest (of whom there was to be but 1 person allowed over to my house and it turns out there were more than 12 on my front porch) to find out what everyone knew and to speak to their parents. Then we had a nice chat with the Constabulary at the OPP station in town to give details, etc.

In my estimation, $500+ has been lifted from my house because of this incident and most of it is stuff that is difficult to replace. Now, beyond getting angry and considering violence…which is not the answer as I am seeking to make as big an impact as possible for someone who looks up to me and is extremely upset that her lack of judgement has landed her in such deep shit…I have been considering how best she can make amends for the loss of my property. We shall not go into how she will be able to mend this breech in trust. Those of you who know me well, will immediately shake your heads on her behalf and mutter things like “Oh, dear.” and “Tsk, tsk, tks.” and “I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes….” and “I’m so very glad I’ve never crossed Jen” as they are all well aware that I may be the forgiving sort, but I do not forget.

I have been very clear that she is not the one who ripped me off. That is why I have not charged her with theft. However, she has blatantly gone against my wishes and allowed a breech in the defences of my fortress…my home. As a woman who lives most of the time alone with her two small children, I’m sure you can appreciate what the security of my inner sanctum means.

So, what would you have her do to make amends? How would you have her repay her debt?

And with that, it is lunchtime and I would like to fit a bit of knitting in before work starts up again.

Cape Breton Part II

2007-08-28T14:53:00.000-04:00

Let's see now, I think I left off with me whining and moaning about what Step Class had done to me. Really, folks, I gotta tell you, it wasn't all pain. And actually, I found that going to the dance classes made the pain go away...for a while.

At the College

Apart from all the frenetic networking and getting to know everyone and the classes (I took Piano Accompaniment, Advanced Bodhran (that's drum) and Beginner Step), there was excellent food served up by the cafeteria staff. This was like no cafeteria food I'd ever had. Three solid squares a day that made us all gain weight and a schedule so full of exciting stuff to do and people to talk to, we were starved by the time the next meal rolled around. Luckily, the balance to all this eating was, yes, you guessed it, more dancing.

Don't it Make You Feel Like Dancing

Just about any night of the week (except Sunday...you gotta rest some time, I guess) there is a dance to go to. This strikes me as a fabulous way to get your exercise. Monday night is Brook Village, Tuesday night is Scotsdale, Wednesday night is Normaway Inn, Thursday night is Glencoe, Friday night South West Margaree, and Saturday is West Mabou. We went out to the Monday night, Thursday night and Saturday night dances and would have gone on Friday night too had we not had ourselves a little rest that turned into a 12-hour sleep. Seriously, we were so burned out, when the alarm went off for us to get up and go to the dance, I wanted to cry. Luckily, we were both that toasted and felt very refreshed the day after.

Unlike going to a dance here in Ontario, be it a wedding or a club, or other social event, most people mill about and drink for a while and talk/shout over the music. Not so in Cape Breton. As soon as the fiddler is done tuning up his strings and puts his bow against them, this is what the dance floor looks like. I know, it's dark, but who has a dance with the lights on full?

(OK, so the video won't upload...picture a packed community hall, darkish for dancing with a dance floor so full, you can't get from the door to the bar! Seriously, it was something else.)

And it was like this at every dance. In fact, we hovered at the West Mabou dance to see how close to the front we could get. This is where the floor boards are most worn and the real experts are. This is a bonus as Cape Breton dances are not your average fare. No, its square sets all night. This is not to be mistaken for some form of Country Music, heaven forfend! This is Cape Breton Celtic music at its best and the dances that have gone along with it since the Scots got off the boats. And don't be fooled: it is a real work out. The men who come to these dances (and who actually dance) bring at least 3 spare shirts for a very good reason. It gets damn hot in the community hall (it being Summer and all) and you just smoke through the dance steps. And the dancing starts at 10pm and doesn't stop until 1am! The best dances are the ones that don't serve alcohol because frankly you never want to quoif a cold refreshing beer and then do 2 jig sets and a reel set. Beer well-shaken is a one-way ticket to heartburn. Or worse. Don't worry though, I held it together and switched to water.

I was really swept up in the great feeling of community participation at these dances. There were people of all ages (some of the dances invite families, ergo the dry dances). There were couples from their teens to their 80's cycling through chains and promenades. By the end of the week, there were people I'd seen every dance we'd gone to. And the sets allowed for meeting new people as partners spun off in different directions (somewhat unexpectedly sometimes as we new recruits caught on). And although there was a fair bit of concentrated looks as we figured out what we were doing, overall, there was a general sense of joy in the music and it was impossible to sit still, even when you'd just finished up a set and could barely stand.

And every night we went out, we were came home to shooting stars from the Perseids meteor shower. Can this week get any better.

All good things must end and what a way to go!

On Thursday night, there was a Student Ceilidh where we showcased what we'd learned.

This is me with Myron, my drumming teacher, and our new friend Cindy Butineau-Thompson. She step dances just to take the edge off and OMG are her feet fast. Myron and I moved as far out of the way as possible!!! Oh yeah, she's also a professional fiddler. I saw smoke come off her strings!

To show everyone that I really did touch a piano (the dust on the one at home will attest that this does not happen often), I accompanied Bruce and InBobNeato to Coilsfield House after being given about an hour or so to practice the piece. It was a pretty intense couple of minutes in front of about a hundred people, but we did really well. Singing and drumming are no problem for me, but I think I'm still having Kiwanis flashbacks from when I was seven and performing piano in front of groups still makes me sweat.

After the ceilidh ended, we headed back up to our dorm room to shoot the breeze, have a celebretory drink and convince Cindy that she had to come out to the Glencoe Dance with us.

Now the Glencoe dance is located in what could be called God's Country. You have to take a road that is easily missed, is unlit, unpaved and after the rain their had been a few days before, as easy to drive as one covered in deep slushy snow. We left behind powerlines and crawled along with the anticipation building to silly extremes as Bruce (our intrepid dance guide) told us tales of the ladies from college who took a turn too hard last year and ended up in the ditch at 2 in the monring. We swore that when we got back to paved road, we'd stop the car and get out to kiss it. I would almost say that the ride to the dance was more fun than the dance. However, this is just a plain lie because we had 3 hours of solid foot-stomping fun along with a bunch of others from the college who had come out for a good time too.

More on the after college part of the trip to come. Stay tuned.

East of Ordinary

2007-08-22T23:13:00.000-04:00

Well folks, now that I'm back, let me start by telling you I had a fantastic vacation. Had there been more wireless internet available, there might have been more posts, but our days were pretty full of living life large...as it should be on holiday. So that said, we left Gagetown, the quaint little village down the winding road and headed for the hills. (I'm sensing that there will be more than a few clichés here tonight, so be prepared.) And the hills were enchanting. I recall thinking to myself, but aloud, as most of you know I am prone to doing, that if there is a heaven, it is in Cape Breton.

As we crossed the Canso Causeway, the body of water that makes Cape Breton an island (and its not all that big a body of water either), I was captured by the rugged topography: the hills, the trees and the lakes. I've never been to Scotland, but I know I've read that the land was torn from there as the continents drifted apart, and I can really believe it. It's no wonder the Scots emigrated there and stayed.

Here's a picture of the Causeway.

It's a wonder no one drives right into the strait with that monster of a hill staring at them. That is a train, running alongside the road, which effectively made it impossible to get a good picture of the water beyond it.

As we crossed the water, the excitement became almost unbearable because we were off to St. Ann's and the Gaelic College. Now, I don't know if any of you had the chance to go away to camp when you were kids, but I did not. Well, not until Air Cadets when I went to Trenton Base for 2 weeks of Basic Training and let me be totally honest with you...this was loads more fun.
The greatest part about going to this place, so far from home, was that I was going with a great guy, and we were meeting up with a bunch of people I'd already met. Plus, we made tons of new friends along the way, one of whom was married to a guy Bruce went to school with! Nothing like travelling to the ends of the earth to meet up with people who you have connections with.

So, here's the guy...Bruce. (Click on the pictures for a larger view. In theory this will work, I've never tried it before. Only time will tell.)

Here are some of the people we knew:
Elaine

and Maureen and Joan and Kay (I had the distinct pleasure of meeting these ladies at Kay's in Toronto last November and look forward to the reunion there again!)

And the Amazing InBobNeato who refused to have his real name used to avoid infamy!

InBobNeato was an excellent participant in everything. We both took step dancing classes for the very first time in our lives. Now, Bob is a Pys.Ed teacher, so this form of physical torture did not do to him what it did to me. And I was not aware of what it was doing to me until I made the mistake of joining the fellas for a couple of cold ones at the Lobster Galley restaurant. This is situated 2 minutes by car (and 15 minutes walking there...downhill...with a cold beer on your mind). The view on the patio is breath- taking. It is situated at the base of a fjiord. There were jellyfish in the bay (this was fine with me as we were not in the bay with them). There was a bald eagle surfing the air currents. And far out, there was a kayaker enjoying the sun and the breeze. Idyllic. Perfect. Look.

I mentioned it was a 15-minute walk downhill. Yeah, not so going back up. Actually, if you could have harnessed the energy I wasted bitching, whining and moaning the whole way up the steep incline all the way back to the college, the school could have saved a day's electricity. My legs were BURNING AGONY. And why is InBobNeato amazing? Because not only did he put up with the noise (as did Bruce...although there was some making fun going on), but he promised to fix the problem when we got back. For a bit, I thought this might involve violence or weaponry or, God forbid, more step dancing, but in truth, he worked some physiotherapy that made all the pain in my legs go away. For teaching me this little trick (and for showing Bruce how to do it) I owe a huge debt of gratitude. (I know you all want to know for the next time you break yourselves having fun. So, I'll share. If you've overdone it and your leg muscles are getting really tight, you can trick your body into releasing those muscles. Lie on the ground and raise up one leg and get someone to support it. Then, as they apply counter pressure...by trying to hold your leg up, push your leg down toward the floor. Do it 3 times. Each time, you'll be able to raise your leg a bit higher. Repeat for other leg.) Seriously folks, it worked so well, I jumped up and down afterward.

All Hail Bob!

And with that first installment of Gaelic College and Cape Breton, I HAVE to get some sleep. Good night!

Just Show People One Hobbie...

2007-08-07T14:24:00.000-04:00

Now, I'm going to go back a bit. Back to Gagetown where we stayed at Doc's Hill B&B with Don and Donna Teakles. Now as many of you already know, I have a wee bit of a knitting habit. Ok, it's not little at all. Well, I was knitting on my seasilk print o' the waves shawl, by Euny Jang, and it was kicking my arse in the car. Go look at the pattern, you'll understand why. It's one of those patterns where you knit a row and count and then go back and figure out where you forgot a yarn over or something of the like and knit it again (if you're lucky and you don't have to go back another row or two to fix the mistake, by I'm digressing). So by the time we reached the B&B I had moved on to more pedestrian sock knitting and decided that after 10 hours of driving I wouldn't bother brining too much in with me. But I did bring in the sock. Well it wasn't out of its travelling case two minutes and Donna was over to inspect the yarn and the pattern and went to go and show off what she had on the needles. I love this about knitters. They want to feel the yarn, know the stitches and it's a great way to break the ice. Non-knitters think you are a freak.

So, we settled in the livingroom after lugging a modest amount out of the car (no need to lug it all in right) and we get to talking (and knitting). Bruce had been here before (and a good thing as it was a long and winding road we went down to get to Gagetown) and they knew he was on his way to the college. But, they said they couldn't really tell for sure if he was telling the truth on account he'd never palyed them any music in the years he stayed with them. So, back out the car to get instruments and music (for me) and I set down the sock and picked up my drum for a bit of a mini-session. Where there are musicians, there will be music.

What we hadn't anticipated was that there were others of us in the room. Another family was staying the night and their daughters Neeva and Jessica (both also from Ottawa) played piano. So, we played and listened and had a grand old time. Not fir the first time had I entered a room full of strangers to discover I was amongst kindred sprits and all because I showed who I really was and what I liked to do.

Heaven is in Cape Breton

2007-08-07T11:50:00.000-04:00

So here we are at the college. There's lots of stuff going on. Classes start at 9 after breakfast that always includes porridge (good Scotish roots here, let me tell you). As we crossed the Mainland of Nova Scotia, we continued to follow in the path of some really impressive clouds. Bruce thought this one looked like a wave.

The college at St Ann's is a really special place where there is a sense of inclusion. All sorts of people, from every walk of life you can imagine, congregating for the purpose of learning something celtic: fiddle, harp, piano, drum, dance, weaving. I'm sure I've forgotten something there. And all the while, making new friends and sharing a love of the music. If ever you felt that you had no community, that you just didn't quite belong, Cape Breton has open arms waiting to take you in to show you another way of living.

Must run to my next classes. The start in just a few minutes. 2 Bodhran, 2 piano and a dance (yes, I am learning how to dance Strathspey and tomorrow we'll start on the reel steps). I'm looking forward to learning the other dance steps as this is also a time where we just don't sleep much. classes all day and dancing every night (just about). Good thing there's a bit of time in between for a nap.

Skunked

2007-08-04T22:42:00.000-04:00

So, here we are in Gagetown. We drove through Montreal instead of leaving it until the morning and we were glad we did. There was hardly any traffic and a spectacular storm systme was moving in front of us offering up amazing cloud to cloud and ground strike lightning. From a little elevator conversation I had this morning, apparently all those ground strikes were happening in the place we ended up staying: St Hyacinthe (one of 10,000 Saints in the French-Canadian world).

However, St Hyacinthe was not the only place where there was action going on last night. No, no. After enjoying an evening at the Riverfest Jam in our home town of Carleton Place, Tara the dog sitter came home to let Shiela out and discovered the hard way that there was a skunk in the back yard. Nothing like capping off a great evening with a bit of eau de skunk. According to Tara, the dog beat a hasty retreat, threw herself upstairs, through a babygate and hid on one of the twins' beds. And all this was relayed to me at 2:08 am. I'm happy to say my evening had been much more tranquil.

Later I'll tell you all about our stay in Gagetown. There will be music and singing (surprise, surprise) and yarn and homemade jam. And pictures. Here's one for the road, which we are about to get back on.

All 9 Muses

2007-08-02T10:21:00.000-04:00

Purpose
I've got one. I've talked about it long enough, and now I'm jumping in with both feet. I have joined the blogosphere. My purpose here is to keep track. Of what, you ask? The siren call of all my Muses. There will be Music and Knitting, Mothering and Musing, Writing and Ranting, Painting and Photography, and Me. My life is full of exciting and sometime tremulous moments. My nearest and dearest get to hear about them, usually at excited (perhaps sometimes overwhelmng) high volume. However, with each retelling, sometimes the shine comes off a bit with wear. This way, each of you can approach first-hand what I'm doing. As as needs be, have a little lie down at your leisure while I motor on.

Scope
As you might already have noticed, I like order. There's a lot going on and I don't want to miss any of it. I also don't like spending time looking for it (whatever it is). For example I don't like tearing apart the house looking for a CD of pictures which I've left in the stash room while also looking for sock yarn. Knitters, you know what I'm talking about. My life is all about multi-tasking. The topics of this blog with be...varied. I can't guarentee what you're going to find from post to post. Whichever Muse screams the loudest whither shall I follow. I'm helpless to do otherwise.

Philosphy behind it all
I've long understood that the Muses in my life call at their whim, not mine. In university, this meant that when essays and exams were all approaching at mind-numbing, breakneck speed, that would be the time I would have the greatest urge to write my book. Bending your will to the Muse means also bending the space/time continuum and when you can crack that, baby, you can really get stuff done.

So this is a place where I will do my own musing about my life and all the things that touch it. Expect many joys, a few sorrows, adventures, confusing half-conceived concepts, wise-cracks, etc. We're on this journey together now.

What's up next?
And speaking of journeys... I'm about to go off on one. With luck, there will be WiFi. As well, there will be music clips, photos and general mayham as The Man and I head East to Gaelic College for Music Camp. I'll post as I can.