After the Hiatus

I have been busy teaching, entertaining and visiting ... and now I am home.  Before I start preparations for next week's lessons, I will fill in some of the blanks.

My friend Erma is just back from a visit to Kenya so we had a great gossipy visit last weekend.  Layla, who sent money off with Erma on this trip, joined us for dinner on Saturday.  Layla is 20 and has been raising money for disadvantaged kids to help them get an education since she was a young teenager.  I met her when she was fifteen.  She has helped to build kitchens and dormitories at the Daisy Centre for kids with disabilities, sent a crippled girl off to have a necessary operation so that she could attend high school as a CHES scholarship girl, and used her funds for a myriad of other small projects.  Erma taught in Western Kenya from 2001 - 2003.  She made it her business to discover where help was needed, and has been raising money and awareness in her Canadian church and high school ever since her return.  She has been back three or four times, each time discovering more projects to help, and so her Kenyan work continues to grow.

Dan, Sarah, Lucas and Remi spent a few days here while I visited Techwood and Scootz.  We all enjoyed shaking up our lives a little, and I came home to a clean house, fewer weeds and a mowed lawn, to a stream free of a tree that threatened to block it, and to a clothesline that works like a charm again..

While they worked and played here at the lake, I went off on missions in the Lanark area, and managed to fill my three days in interesting ways. 

I walked every day a few times with Kenya and old Charlie and discovered just how friendly Lanark is ... and how beautiful the gardens and river are.  Charlie loved his walks and hip-hopped along beside Kenya despite his arthritis.

At the annual Balderson sale I picked up bathing suits that will last me for another few years.  In Perth I found a wine cup that smooths out rough wine, and a bar of natural soap that smells good enough to eat.  I also attended a great outdoor concert in the rain with a new friend. 

Before I left, the boys and I went off to McDonald's Corners where I discovered the nicest Saturday Market I've ever been to.  Listening to conversations around me while I drank fair trade coffee, I was reminded of a recent trip to London when I marched against the Iraq War with hordes of little old grey haired ladies and men ... all from the peace protest era.  I bought quiches and fudge from little girls raising money for autism, and, when I asked why they were so interested, was told by the younger one that her older sister looked after a little girl who was on the spectrum. I don't think I have ever met nicer kids, and when I told their camera-toting grandfather, he said that it had to be his wife's influence because he was a bad actor.  Then I wandered over to talk to a goat lady ... and was reminded of my own experiences with goats ... another tale from the depths of memory.

After eating our way around the market, we drove to the dump where I found books and blouses at the recycling centre, and then visited the woman who bought Techwood's old place.  I like her ... and her dogs.  She too has a Charlie with the oddest colouring imaginable.  He looks ferocious but hides behind her skirts as soon as you speak to him.  It took Scootz a few minutes of gentle stroking to convince him to come out from under the desk once we were inside.  A friend of his owner described him as a cut and paste dog because his cross breeding has not created a harmonious blend at all.  Rather he has a shepherd size and shape, a pit bullish head, some dalmation freckles, a spectacular grey diamond on a white forehead, and his front half is white, the back half dark.

I was glad to get home, but I am very glad I spent a few days with my boys.  And it was nice to meet a new friend with whom I have so much in common.  Maybe next time I visit he will give me a ride on his Harley.

Last night I made the mistake of retreating from the steady rain into a movie.  Have you seen "The Weatherman"?  I found it terribly depressing ... good ... but hard to watch the protagonist's repeated failures and unremitting sadness ...

And now I must start work on my lessons for next week.  I am teaching Monday, Thursday and Friday this week.  Roger, the young Swiss carpenter, will be joined by a handicraft teacher in her early fifties and another younger Swiss woman.  I want to work with their common interests and the things they can teach one another.  I picked up some second hand books on handicrafts in Lanark ... so I think I will start there.

Have a great week ... and I will try to make more regular appearances than I have lately.

A Little Like Herding Chickens ... but Fun

Yoshiko and I spent a couple of hours painting, and then picked up Rowboat Flo and went to Subway for lunch.  Afterwards, we went shopping together.  By 4 p.m. I was exhausted but it had all been worth it.  Flo bought groceries. Yoshiko bought jeans for $7.  I bought DVD's. At Subway we talked to somer old women  from the States about food and sandals. (Don't ask)

And Yoshiko was delighted with her tray.

Isn't it wonderful that old women from very different backgrounds can truly enjoy one another?

The week that was ...

I enjoyed our last (at least I hope last for a while) days of our heat wave.

A few days with friends who live near Montreal and have a backyard pool and air conditioning ... Kenya and I both enjoyed our visit with them.  Then back home with company over the weekend ... canine and human.

I hear that Russia's fish stocks have been hard hit by their heat wave ... and I suspect that our lake's fish have probably gone much deeper than usual to escape the bath tub temperatures of the water. But those same tepid temperatures provided us with great swimming last night.  Rob and I worked on getting Charlie (the 9 year old black lab who was afraid of the water) to swim. By the end of the play time he was having fun and swimming well.  Rob and I ended up covered in long scratch marks.  Rob's are all over his legs, chest and arms.  I have four bruises and a deep surface scratch mark from Charlie's fearful first attempts.

Even Carlos went in last night ... and he has a Mediterranean horror of swimming in water that is less than body temperature.

Shea gave Tammy and me rides and Kenya swam with all of us.

I never stay up past 10 p.m. but it was after 1 when I headed up last night.  Good food, flowing wine, and great company.

This afternoon I heard two explosions and thought that our local yahoos were making good their threat to kill all the mergansers on the lake.  The meeting did not go well ... and I do not enjoy being outvoted by people who are wrong ... they grudging agreed to allow us to try alternative ways of getting rid of the Canada Goose menace next spring ... but clearly intended to shoot to kill if it didn't work ... and then they brought up the merganser menace as well ... blaming the absence of large minnows on the ducks.  In view of what is happening in Russia and also taking into account the blasting that has shattered the peace of the lake, I would be more likely to blame things on disruption of habitat.

Today when I heard the explosions, I phoned my buddies who also feel that wild life have a right to co-exist with us ... and then heard from one of them that he had been setting off fire crackers to scare away some Canada Geese.  His method worked ... let's hope it keeps on working.

Rob, Scott and I played tourists in the village yesterday ... while the train was in.  Whew!  Not my favourite place to be on a sweltering afternoon, but interesting for a change.

Tomorrow I start a week of accompanying Yoshiko, the 84 year old Japanese student who is back again this year.  We are starting out here at the lake tomorrow and deciding what we want to do with our time together.

It will be fun, I expect.

I hope you enjoy our break from sweltering temperatures and some cooler nights.

A hairy little heartening weekend ...

I seem to have been running from one social engagement to another all weekend ... and also bought  (foolishly) a very expensive pair of German sandals and then returned them a day later.

But I did manage to watch one of the movies I picked up at my favourite little second hand store.  It was called "Heart" and cost me $3.95.   Unless you grew up in the fifties, it probably won't mean anything to you, but when I was fourteen, in 1954, a sixteen year old girl swam Lake Ontario.  Her name was Marilyn Bell.

She learned to swim at the same place I  did:  the Sunnyside pool.  And while my swimming in Lake Ontario was confined to short distances from the raft we neighbourhood kids knocked together, she swam 32 miles across that grey, cold, rough-waved lake. 

Still at fourteen, and living by then in Halifax, I felt a sense of kinship with her.

"Heart" is her story.  I am very glad it jumped off that dusty shelf into my hands.  I like reading about people who struggle against tremendous odds.

Another hitherto unknown movie I bought recently was called  "The Freedom Writers". It too was about a young woman who fought against terrible odds and succeeded;  another movie that reminded me of my youth.  This time, I was taken back to those years I spent teaching.

Today we have rain again and I have botched  a loaf of banana bread.  It is still edible, just not pretty.  I used one of those silicone loaf pan things.

Ever since Kenya went to the groomer she has had dandruff.  I am not sure whether the groomer used a shampoo she is allergic to, or whether she didn't rinse her properly or whether it had something to do with the fact that she shaved a section above her tail (something I would NEVER do and that is where the dandruff started).  It is also possible that it was all just coincidental.   But Kenya's coat is usually beautiful ... long and sleek and silky.

The first attempt to remedy the problem was almond oil applied topically.  She seemed to enjoy it but she looked like a wet hen with spiked hair. After a few hours I bathed her with warm water from the hose and puppy shampoo and then rinsed her really well.


 Then I decided to fix things from the inside out.  I mixed  olive oil into her food She liked the olive oil fine but I went on line to see if there was a better choice.  They suggested Vitamin E or fish oil so I went to the health food store and bought something specially for dogs' coats and skin.

Her coat already looks better so I think I am on the right track.

This post is specially for Techwood

Techwood asked if I had photos of my garden on my blog.  I thought I had ... but it seems I was too busy gardening to post the progress.

Look what warm sunshine, lots of rain and great soil conditions have produced already!

 ARUGULA, RADISHES AND NASTURTIUMS; TOMATOES;  MORNING GLORY BLOSSOM;    BEANS;   HOT AND SPICY OREGANO;   A BEAN THAT DECIDED TO GROW IN SAND (JUST SHOWS HOW HARD IT IS TO KILL A BEAN! ;   HOSTAS;  AN OLD DANDELION ;    LETTUCE; . RADISHES ALMOST READY FOR HARVESTING

These were all organized but then the computer overrode my wishes and produced something random.

In other news, I finished teaching Andreas yesterday and Linda and Bob drove all the way from Barrie to bring me dinner.  What a thoughtful loving thing to do!  Dinner was wonderful., and  Linda also gave me her tea chest ... which I have coveted ever since she got it.  My first words (god help me ... those first words I blurt out often get me in trouble ...)

Anyway ... my first words were ... "But you're not dead yet."  She looked a little startled ... and I reminded her of when I first saw the tea chest and joked that she should leave it to me in her will ... But no ... she is not yet dead or ready to will anything to anyone just yet ... she was simply giving me something she knew I would love.   All the labels are hand made. Not sure if you can see the calligraphy.   Can you blame me for having had tea chest envy all those years ago???

It is an absolutely lovely day here at the lake.  I may cancel an appointment I have in town and just revel in my new found freedom ... and organize my boxes of wood kindling or firewood for the garden's fire place now that Odin at Property Solutions has cleared a spot for them.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

Sunday Update

A Quiet Uneventful Day after a Busy Couple of Weeks:

Kenya had her annual vet visit and shots, and is trying to become a little more svelte before the next one. The vet said that when I look down at her I should see a waistline.  I said that when I looked, I saw a waddle, not a waistline.   Kenya was the only one not amused, but she felt better when she heard the remedy.  We are to cut back on kibble, not treats ... seems like an odd diet to me ... but Kenya is delighted.  She was less delighted with the next procedures: a manicure and an anal gland check.  Before we left we picked up our 6 month supply of heartworm, flea, tick and other anti-pest meds.

My car went in for its semi-annual check-up on Thursday, and seems healthy, especially for such an old girl.  My mechanic says she is barely broken in at 177,000 kilometres ... and she will be 13 this fall.

Tamarack, Carlos and Ian came for dinner one evening; Techwood and Scott another.  Tammy re-installed Picasa while she was here, and Techwood showed me how to make my photos more portable.  He also left me a book on square foot gardening, and explained it while Scott gave me a back massage.

I headed off to Montreal under false assumptions on Wednesday, but enjoyed my time there.  More about that in a separate post.  It was one of those "DUH! How could you be so dumb?" occasions.

Teddy and Shea came to spend the weekend on Thursday afternoon.  I bought a new magnetic broom in anticipation but despite wielding it almost constantly, am unable to keep up.  Shea is blowing his coat and swimming so I am continually picking up clouds of his undercoat, and what remains behind is sodden and stinky.  Teddy goes swimming in the lake's outlet creek when we stop for a drink.  (He is the only one off-leash.)  Afterwards, he sheds leaves and sticks and other debris for hours and hours.  Tammy says Teddy is his own magnetic broom ... and she is right.  Everything sticks to him and gets tangled in the soft fur.  Despite all that they never leave my side for more than a few minutes, and I do love them.  Kenya is far more independent so it is a change to have dogs who cling.  I am lucky to get a good cuddle with Kenya in the morning, and after that she regards me as good for the occasional massage or stick throwing session. You know the old saw about familiarity breeding contempt.

I had fish and chips at Le Hibou on Friday, and, on Saturday, Pat and Mike brought a delightful delicatessen lunch with lots of treats.  They also brought the hollow stumps down from the parking area to the garden ... five stumps too heavy for me to lift, let alone carry ... 39 steps, a 300 foot path, 22 steps, and another path ... Those stumps had been transported from their source location across the lake in several stages.  One neighbour got them into my car, another got them out, and  Pat and Mike did the heaviest part of the job.

In among all this I have finished Jenny's harlequin chair and sent it off, got a good start on the yard clean-up, got most of the way through the rough draft of the taxes, and done some of the preliminary work necessary to get three pieces of garden furniture ready for the summer ... hope to finish that today. 

I have removed all the sharp bits of wood, nails and screws from the two handmade chairs our strange neighbour threw out after partially removing the arms, and will wash them with TSP today.  I will paint them, and the star table I created from a student cast-off a year ago,  with boat quality varnish which I hope will allow them to stand up to the weather.

Next week looks a little less hectic ... finishing the taxes is the only big job thing still looming.  And my back is feeling almost normal again ... so I am looking forward to a more happily productive period.  I have a number of funky furniture projects lined up waiting, including more outdoor furniture for the deck and the garden.

Wild Willy from Peterborough

I spent the weekend in Peterborough visiting an old (and new) friend who celebrated her 70th birthday by having her first art show in forty years.  She is a sculptor whose work is technically excellent but whose real talent shows through in her rendering of emotion through body language.  I am buying a piece called "Grief".

Claire and I had lost touch until we reconnected while we both visited our  friend, Pat in London.  This was our first visit together since then and we had a wonderful time getting to know one another again.  One of the many things we found we had in common was our love of animals.

My post today features Willy.

Willy is the resident cat ... and he is VERY naughty, athletic, and funny. If I visit again before Claire comes here to the lake, I will take Kenya with me. I wonder what she will think of a cat who not only leaps up on counters, but licks the butter knife! I am sure it will offend all Kenya's notions of good animal behaviour, but I have noticed that she is not nearly as bossy with cats as she is with dogs, no doubt because she has discovered that they are completely incorrigible.

Willy provided us with our only adventure during the weekend. He heard something in the basement and wanted downstairs.

As soon as Claire opened the basement door, a terrified starling flew into the dining room and settled among the plants and glass bottles in the bay window. Willy leapt after it in hot pursuit. Bottles crashed to the floor. Plants exploded their leaves.

The bird led the cat into the livingroom where Willy brought a curtain rod crashing down.

All this carnage likely took less than three minutes, and Claire and I stood transfixed as the drama sped by us.

By the time the bird returned to the plants and stood shivering on a sill between flower pots, Claire had gathered her wits, fetched a tea towel, and draped it around the terrified creature. She carried it outside and I began to pick up bottles and sweep up leaves. Amazingly, nothing was damaged. Not even the glass bottles which had tumbled several feet.

As she went into the livingroom to put the curtain rod back up.Claire remarked that the plants had been in need of grooming anyway.  The adventure was over;   Willy had had a taste of excitement for the day; and none of us, including the starling, suffered heart failure.

Something I Learned This Evening

Nolan and I went for dinner at David and Beck's (Pat's older son and daughter-in-law's) and I read an interesting article in The Guardian about how fiction is dying and morphing into non-fiction. Wiser heads than mine have accepted the fact that my Nanowrimo novel is not a complete anomaly after all ... in fact it is part of a growing trend to mix autobiography and other non-fiction with invented bits to create a new kind of fiction. Whoo! And here I thought I was just incompetent ... that I started with no idea at all and so had to rely on what was there in my life in order to write anything at all! What a relief!

Nolan and I visited Pat this morning and again this afternoon when we took her a large container of soup I had made for her so that she could eat real food again. Yesterday she was so doped up on morphine that she kept dozing off in mid-sentence. It was very worrying. Today she was in far better shape mentally and I managed to massage cream into both feet and one hand in between visits from a variety of friends, her two grandsons who come every day and wreak havoc (1 1/2 and 3 1/2 ... sweet little boys), and various medical people who pop in and out often.

Tomorrow another Canadian friend from the same era that Pat and I were good friends will be coming for a few days. Claire lives in Peterborough and is enroute to Amsterdam to visit family.

Pat will have surgery in a different hospital on Monday and will return to her home as soon as they feel she is able. This surgery will clean up any remaining infection between the lung and the rib cage and will allow them to ascertain whether there is any cancer in that lung. Then she will be able to undergo chemotherapy once she has recovered from the operation.

I am having a good time ... being with Pat ... spending time with Nolan ... getting to know her family again ... it's all good. Pat and I tease one another and Nolan ... and Ethan, her older grandson asks me for kisses and chooses me to tell him his bedtime story. Tonight I got to read about Pooh and Piglet trying to trap the Heffalump. He is a very gentle little boy and I feel privileged. The baby, Joe, is more direct in his demands and VERY noisy ... but after a good long visit to the park in the rain, he was a dear too.

This is a very short visit but I will leave knowing that Pat is being very well cared for and wonderfully loved by family and friends. If I hadn't come I'd have been worried that she might need me here. Now that I have seen for myself that she is absolutely cocooned in love and that she is getting excellent medical care, I feel much better about things.

I have been watering plants, sketchbooking and journaling in between visits ... no knitting time at all so far. I think I'll take my knitting with me tomorrow. And now it is midnight and I need my bed ... as any of you who know me well will understand ... this is way past my bedtime.

No Nanorimo till I get home ...

November 19, 2009
Day 19 with a great gap between Day 15 and 19 ...

My narrator and writer have been very busy ... I think I will use my airport waiting time to fill in the gaps ... in my journal ... and ... if I have the time/opportunity in London I will transpose to the computer and upload to my blog. But if I don't ... I will not fret.

I am taking this trip to give the gift of my presence and love to Pat, not to get on with my life under different circumstances in a different country. I am taking with me beautiful hand cream to give her feet and hands a massage, and photos of my funky furniture to show her what my (almost) latest obsession is. I will take wool to make her a pair of socks while I am there. My big sketchbooking journal will accompany me in my suitcase, and my small one will travel in my pack. I am also taking two novels, one to leave there; one for the return trip.

I am wearing black almost everything this trip ... except for my hiking boots and the red shell that goes on over my black fleece. I will wear the new (quite small) black pack I bought for $12 at MEC the other day. After I made my purchase, the nice man behind the counter fixed the strap on my old faded green MEC pack, the one that has been everywhere imaginable from Norway to Namibia; from Malawi to Mongolia with me. Since I wouldn't be dealing with real backpacking on this trip and the underground is friendly to my red suitcase I decided (finally) to take the small red suitcase that trundles along on wheels instead of my great yellow back pack.

So ... black with touches of red ... except for the soft purple silk scarf. The second time I went to Africa I stayed in London with Pat for a couple of days enroute. I had bought a hooded Tilley jacket that was a beautiful shade of purple. Pat and I were wandering around an outdoor market. She saw the scarf and immediately bought it for me telling me she wanted my neck to be warm and draft-free on the long flight ahead of me.

That scarf has been almost as many places in the world as I have been. I lost it once and was heartbroken. But it turned up a couple of weeks later under the sofa at the cottage, a little muddy and pock marked, because one of my baby groundhog orphans had been suckling on it. The scarf, like my underpants and socks, it seems, was quintessentially me. And that scarf represents for me the quintessence of Pat.

For 54 years Pat has been my anchor, and my life preserver. We've moved in and out of one another's lives for over half a century. We've laughed together, cried together, lived together, visited countless art galleries, marched in protest marches, traveled all over England together, and now that we are old and no longer quite as prim and proper as we once tried to be, gotten drunk together on wine and brandy. It was with Pat that I saw Judy Chicago's Dinner Party and the wonderful retrospective of the woman who created our National Arts Centre spider. Together we visited Cambridge University and took a boat ride on the Cam, and, over the years, we have visited a great many of the cathedrals Pat loves. The last time I was in Britain Pat drove us to Blewbury where we poked around doing research for me. (We both loved that.) Pat's sons took me to the London Zoo in 1977; Pat toured me around ancient canals and market areas during that, my first trip to London.

But those are simply highlights; it is all the moments that are not very memorable that our friendship has included that make her my dear dear friend. I cannot imagine a world without Pat in it. The very thought that she might not make it through this time terrifies me.

I am so glad that I will have these four or five days with her. I wish it could be longer, but life doesn't always allow us to have our druthers.

Must run now ... I have to take my car in to have the winter tires put on ... and the oil changed ... Life in these hills includes winter even though it seems to be taking its time getting here this year.

Claire

Claire died yesterday at 1 p.m. I am sad, but actually less sad now that she has been released from the turmoil that her life had become. My sadness began the day she told me that she had lung cancer. It grew every time there was more bad news ... that the radiation was not working and there were more tumours on the lung ... that the cancer had spread to the brain ... that her mind was only hers part of the time ... and then the final blow ... that she had to enter palliative care because the woman I knew to be Claire had almost vanished.

But all through this year long journey from failed surgery to her death yesterday, my love and respect for Claire grew. She faced death with a grace I can only hope one day to emulate.

First was quiet dignity and hope. She believed in the medical system, and she brought to her own defence a positive attitude. Then came the realization that she would not make it, and we talked about the inevitability of a death she seemed to accept ... not welcome, but accept without fear.

During her own travails, Claire never lost sight of the fact that life ... her own life and the lives of others ... was about a lot more than the cancer. In the early months she continued to garden as much as her strength would allow. She put in new plants by the road, plants that will forever remind me of her strength, her love of beauty. She went on one last hike with her hiking group, joining the snails whom she had encouraged for so many years.

In the winter while she and Tom made their five day trips every week for radiation in Montreal, Claire was exhausted, but she always had a smile when she saw me, and she always asked about my life ... we talked about far more than cancer. We discussed the movies I lent them. She loved Kenya and was interested in all my dogs. We talked about books, and the doings of the lake.

In the spring she was very sick, and I saw less and less of her, but when she wasn't sleeping she always welcomed my visits. One day she asked me to come over, and when I got there she took me out to the garage to show me a rocking chair she wanted me to have. It is still white with primer, and when I paint this one it will be a treasure to hold onto ... my last gift from Claire ... the last of many.

Claire taught me a great deal about living life fully, and she taught me at least as much about dying courageously. She was a beautiful woman.

I want to make Claire's chair a physical embodiment of her courage, her spirit, her love of life and her openness to beauty in people and nature. I will do my grieving as I turn this ghost of a chair into a song of praise for a life well lived, for a woman I love.

Neurotic Dogs and Drug-induced Madness

One of my dog guests this weekend has never in the seven years of his life been away from his home and family. That wouldn't be completely unheard of but he has also led a life quite secluded from other dogs, I think ... and he's never seen a collar or leash till this weekend. It has presented quite a challenge.

He can't be allowed to run off-leash here because he heads straight down the road in pursuit of his daddy's car. I use Kenya's leather collar and leash, but when I try to get him in the house he can be very stubborn ... appearing to attack me and then stiffening up and refusing to move. Kenya gets really ticked off when this happens ... and that is not a pretty sight ( all noise but nasty).

He is terrified every time Kenya yells at him and I have been spending a good bit of time reassuring him that he is just fine, and keeping him separated from the other dogs ... even taking him with me in the car when possible. But he is not happy.

Yesterday I took the three dogs for a long walk. Zeke, who has been remarkably well behaved this time (except for barking all night the first night he was here), walked between Kenya and Corey. When Zeke made friendly overtures to Corey, Corey just didn't get it. He got quite huffy.

Corey's dad called yesterday and said he was coming home early ... likely by five today ... and I breathed a great sigh of relief.

This has not been an easy job ... and I have put in all that time, worry and energy for about $35! Good grief! That's even less pay than knitting socks!

I visited Claire yesterday. Her mind has been dramatically affected by the drugs she is taking. Yesterday she spoke nothing but French and I asked her daughter whether French was her first language. No ... but Claire believes that she once spoke French in a former life. Her son said he believed she had once been the Queen of France, and Claire smiled as beatifically as she had during my last visit when she told me that a world renowned conductor and the best musicians in the world were performing a symphony just for her. I see only the happy moments of her madness ... but those who love her best have to deal with her irrational anger as well. I wish I could do more than bring chocolate cookies.

The Birthday Boy

Who knows how but Ed and Emma (in her birthday suit) are now up.

Wet Bed and Those Damned Nails

Sarah and Dan came out yesterday afternoon. Dan flexed his muscles and took the big carpet I have been tripping over for weeks up to the garbage cans, and then moved other stuff up there as well. He looked at the weed eaters and told me what to do with the electric one I can manage (it needs a new spool), got the gas one going, and did some clean-up for me.

After dinner (a yummy chicken and veggie curry that Sarah made), we all went swimming with Remi and Kenya. They took shifts because Lucas was in bed sleeping. Sarah and I swam for ages. I'd forgotten just how great it was to skinny dip at night with a water-loving friend.

Afterwards we all joined the baby. I slept the deep uninterrupted sleep of the innocent -- the kind I only seem to have when I feel safe; when other people are sleeping nearby. Kenya came into my bed ... hence the damp bed this morning.

Off and on, all day, before they arrived, I made banana bread, painted schools of little fish on the rockers, dragonflies on the arms, and clouds and birds above the fish pond, and pulled staples and nails from the other chair. I think that chair would have lasted forever if it had been kept indoors. Where a modern craftsperson would have stapled once, the maker of this chair used twenty-five staples going in two directions plus nails and glue. I worked out a rhythm ... thin wedge to start the lift ... screw driver to finish it ... and pliers to pull the whole thing out ... off to the side ... thin wedge ......... until my back began to complain and I had pile to put in the garbage can.

It is almost clear of the staples, nails, burlap and damask now. I am looking at a lovely bright blue silk damask with silvery tracings as the one to use ... maybe paint the chair black with silvery trim? Not sure. I will make a sketch and try out paint colours on paper first, I think. This chair will be happy because it is clean, living indoors away from pigeons who used it for an outhouse, and wearing elegant clothing, not because it is funky. I think!

And I think I will follow the guidelines of the original seat maker ... burlap or the modern equivalent stapled onto the wood frame, dense foam glued in place, the covering stapled on, then a bordering trim attached with pretty upholstery nails.

With this chair and the little fluorescent rocker, I feel that anything I do has to improve it, but this one makes different demands on my newly forming skills. I hope I have what it takes to do the seat properly.

Not too lazy Sunday

I have not accomplished a great deal today but I did do some work on the novel and took Kenya to the village with me. My intention was to buy milk and then go for a walk some place where the roads were less icy than here ... more amenable to walking. Kenya got all dressed up in her new scarf and looked pretty spiffy.

We bought the milk and found a great spot between two sunny fields but as soon as I got out the car the wind caught me and practically tore my jacket off. The windbreaker broke no wind! I drove home.

Enroute we saw a flock of shaggy sheep and a pack of Alsatians lying peacefully on their dog house roofs. Then we saw a road sign showing a husky crossing. Just as I was thinking how cute that was, two deer bounded across the road.

When we got back to our parking space I unloaded the groceries and let Kenya loose, and then we visited Tanya (my nice neighbour) and I drank tea and ate some home made pumpkin and chocolate chip squares and Kenya got a bunch of loves.

When we came to the house ... my gawd it is treacherous up here today especially wearing rubber boots ... I made three litres of yogurt which will be ready sometime late tonight ... and we curled up and watched Pan's Labyrinth. I worked on the second red sock and Kenya dozed.

I am up here preparing this post because the movie was at that terrible torture scene and I didn't think I could face it just then. I am not sure I can face it at all. I may just do something elsewhere till it is over.

I hope everyone has had as pleasant a Sunday as I have.

Not Such a Good Day for Writing ...

My heating system caused me grief last night ... well ... lack of sleep, anyway ... so it was after seven when I got up. It is nine and I have a wood fire lit and am just now finishing my tea and computer stuff ...

I should run into the village as soon as I get dressed to buy salad makings and more kindling wood ... a friend is coming for lunch and we will have salmon, rice and salad.

But after he leaves I have to run over to a neighbour's because I am looking after their place while they are away.

If I do all this entertaining and running I will have no time to write ... and I want to keep going ...

I think I will improvise a different kind of salad ... one that can use scraps of Romaine lettuce, onions, baby tomatoes and canned artichokes ... or I will serve cooked veggies with it. Problem is I am not sure whether I have any veggies that are not orange ... and I don't want the meal to look like a Hallowe'en joke. Ah well ... friends are the kind of people you can subject to such indignities with food. After all, it is the wine and conversation that really matters.

So ... on I go ... with yet another difficult conversation ... this one between Dan and Mary ... or maybe the inner dialogues that Robert and Emily must have after their last conversation ... the one in which she reveals what she found ... and what people know ... the one that puts Robert in a box with no safe exit. Will Robert act in character or will he make a decision that shows more concern for others than for himself? He really has no way out ... even if he tries to silence those who know ... there are too many now to silence ... and eventually he would end up in the same place he is now but with more harm done than before.

Okay ... time to stop running the maze. Time to write.

Jobs, my Finger, and Tamarack's Birthday

Today is Tammy's birthday. Happy Birthday to you!

We are having a small party here to celebrate.

Yesterday I received one of those multimillion byte emails that knock my dial-up connection for a loop so that I have to take extraordinary measures to read it at all. This one was (FINALLY) the invitation to teach secondary teachers of English for a three month stint in Mongolia. My heart always soars when I get such news, but I had to refuse.

1. The pay was too little to do more than barely cover the cost of boarding Kenya somewhere.

2. Three months is a long time to be away.

3. Because they were so late getting this out I would have no time to prepare. (The first camp starts March 4!)

4. I have a feeling that their disorganization in one thing will likely mean that they are completely disorganized in most things, and I might find myself hating every minute of my time there!


Mud Mama sent me a site that she thought I should read. It was like reading about my horrible finger experiences through a veil of very black humour. If that sort of thing appeals to you, go to http://outlookdoubtful.blogspot.com. She has photos and everything. She nearly cut hers off in November and the sad tale continues through the surgery to remove excess scar tissue to ending her love-hate affair with Percocet.

And now I have to ice a cake. Have a great weekend.

THAT conversation; THOSE socks

THAT conversation is coming along. I will leave it for now and move onto the other conversations and revelations that must occur between the conversation and the discovery. The benefit of writing it like a patchwork quilt is that each scene does not loom as a huge unwritable chore, and I am able to start fresh each time, which might make the writing fresher too. The downside is that I think I work best when I follow a forward moving flow in which one thing leads naturally to the next so that I am always building on what went before. Also this method leaves me with several ends to weave in seamlessly afterward.

Sort of like the THOSE socks I have almost completed ... which will have a few ends to weave in later. It won't be quite as much drudgery as weaving in the myriad of endlings that were left after Wild Thing's stripey pirate sweater pieces were completed, though.

As long as there aren't too many loose ends, I think it will be fine. At any rate I have no choice because there are these various bits and pieces of conversations, arguments and thoughts that need to happen between CC's confession and Emily's discovery. Then I can go on to writing the conclusion.

I write for a couple of hours and then I think about it, re-read it, and make notes, and then I reward myself by working on the sock. The socks will be finished long before the novel is ... but I still have two more beautiful batches of wool ... and then I can make a conglomerate piece from all those leftovers!

Last night Tamarak, Lois and Carlos came for dinner. That is Lois sitting beside Tamarak in the photo from the show. We had fun. So did the dogs. Kenya always looks a little depressed when she is once again alone. She really likes having a playmate. (Not that Teddy and Shea are the best playmates, you understand. They are a bit wimpy about the cold and would rather sleep on the warm floor than join her outside.)

Nevertheless they sure beat me these days.

I fell on my head on Monday night on my way to the show. No; I had not been drinking wine. No; it was not because I am getting long in the tooth and unsteady on my pins. Several people have fallen and hurt themselves on Ottawa streets recently ... I know of two others, both MUCH younger than me ... and also sober ... who fell. One cracked her skull; the other broke her ankle. Good thing I have a hard head.

When Mud Mama heard that I had driven home alone after the fall she said I was going to be the kind of old lady who has to have her car keys hidden; that they would have to keep the door locked to keep me safe from myself. She'd better bloody not even think of it!!! I'd rather die making mistakes than live my life wrapped in cotton wool, thank you.

Yes, I know Mud Mama exactly what you will say ... I would be a danger to other people not just myself ... well phooey!

Endangered Species

A Swedish reader wrote that she is reveling in the bookstores of San Francisco (People Reading Blog) because bookstores have disappeared in her country. Everyone buys their books on-line. A good reason for us to protect our endangered species while we still have them.

I, however, am as guilty as everyone else. Here we have one book store. I would love to give them all my business but every time I have tried, the books have to be ordered and they invariably take much longer (and are far more expensive) than Amazon.

I would love to go to San Francisco and spend a week in book stores, wouldn't you? I would also look for the parrots and climb the hills and take photos of idiosyncratic windows and doorways populated by cats.

As you can see by the last photo, I am neither knitting nor reading. Instead we are all cooking, cuddling babies and enjoying the joy of our dogs' reunion.

Zeke the Nova Scotia Toller comes this morning so Kenya will have company for a whole week.

I will start reading and knitting again this weekend.

Lusty Little Lucas

My house guest extraordinaire!

Not really going to drink tea cozies ...

The problem with writing and editing as soon as you open your eyes is that you sometimes completely change the meaning of the sentences you try to correct for style. Yesterday I drank tea and worked on the first felted tea cozy. I did not drink a felt cozy. I also made banana bread and sorted out tree lights and began putting away sculptures that will be replaced by Christmasy stuff. And I shoveled heavy sludgy snow.

That didn't leave me a lot of time to do more than marvel at the political situation ... but imagine ... we are going to have proportional representation ... real democracy at last. I rather wish we had chosen it in a referendum rather than having it come in by the back door ... but under a Conservative government led by Stephen Harper, that wouldn't have happened.

But back to the mundane ... I am discovering that planning a cozy, like planning a slipper, is a major problem solving exercise for someone who is spatially challenged. I have to think, cut, try on, then think and think and think some more. I spent much of yesterday looking at the deep turquoise cozy and trying to figure out how to fit it on the tea pot. Then I tried to cut out a felt gold fish for it. It looked like a spiky blob. I tried on a felt heart. Then I decided the cozy needed a felted liner. If I used the heart instead of the gold fish, the liner and stitching could be a dark red. Once I had made that decision I discovered that I had lovely felted pompoms from the same felted sweater source. And the cozy which I had been trying unsuccessfully to put on a round fat pot actually fit properly on my tin tea pot which originated in India. It is the one I use every morning and it has to have a cozy of some kind because the tin conducts the heat to my hand so that it is impossible to pour without burning myself. It has been wearing an old hat for the last year.

So ... today my plans are to bake bread, wrap gifts, work on that cozy, finish shoveling, and check to make sure I can get the car out tomorrow. Leonard was here with his plow last night after I had gone to bed. Because of the hour I couldn't move the car for him to clear that area. Every time that happens I have to dig myself out. It is bad enough to have to walk over 1/4 kilometre to get to the car but when you have to carry a shovel with you to dig out as well, the idea of a trip loses its appeal.

By the end of the winter I will have perfected all systems and will have appropriate shovels and sand at all stations and will keep an extra sled up where I park.

At the Christmas reunion last week, a man I didn't really know while we worked together said his wife would never consent to live anywhere that didn't have a basement, a garage, and no work connected with it. He couldn't even imagine her living as I do. He had tried to introduce her to the idea of living in one of the condos on the river at the edge of the village and she was horrified by the primitiveness.

Tomorrow I want to go to town to make sure I have enough lights and food for the weekend's fun. If Pat and that gang come as well, we will have a contest. Everyone will go out to find the four trees and bring them back. Then people will be put in three teams and will either pick rooms out of a hat or choose rooms. Their challenge will be to create a Christmas tree that fits thematically into the the setting. Then we will all tackle the bathroom tree. I have found all kinds of lovely beads and possible ornamentation as well as things to set under their trees ... all from my usual Christmas tree ... moose ... mice ... a Mongolian ger and boots ... rocking horses ... even a teddy riding a tricycle.

Well, now, on with my day!