Before getting rid of the obviously less-than-palatable first test item, Crunch'n'Clean, I decided to do an experiment. I laid down four treats and invited Kenya to partake. The one closest to her was Crunch'n'Clean, the next, a no-name from Costco with the same ingredients as her kibble, , the third one a Marrow Bone, and the fourth, a piece of a dried chicken breast, also from Costco. I made sure that all four were roughly the same size so that she would not be lured by gluttony. All four were approximately the same dull tan colour so she would not have been tempted by what might have looked good.
Kenya sniffed each one in turn and then picked up the one furthest away (the chicken), and ate every crumb. Then she chose the next furthest away, the Marrow Bone, and ate it up completely as well before moving on to the third choice, the Costco biscuit, She looked around for a few minutes snuffling and vacuuming up all stray bits of cookie.
Finally she sniffed the Crunch'n'Clean and licked it. She put it down on the rug for a moment and then bit into it and ate each of the pieces.
I decided to continue till the end of the week in view of the fact that she may not like it very much but it isn't something she refuses to eat, so her teeth are probably getting their daily cleaning with it.
Also ... she eats fewer treats when that is the one I offer most often.
I suspect that a gluttonous dog might behave differently. Most of the Labs I know don't care what they eat as long as it is edible, and there was that Bernese Mountain Dog puppy who didn't even care whether it was edible.
Kenya has never been a glutton ... but she does like her treats ...so she is probably a very good taste tester.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Gardening is stalled ...
Odin, the young man who is supposed to clean the property, may come today since it is supposed to rain ... or snow. It is a good day to evaluate the job.
I have to call Jim and see when he is going to come to build the box(es).
This weekend I will likely test-drive the glass painting equipment I bought at Michael's ... and wait to do all the outdoor parts of the job when the temperature rises again and we are not expecting precipitation of either type.
What strange weather ... from summer to winter in a week ...
I have been feeling ill since Wednesday ... tummy troubles ... not sure whether my water, my holding tank, my diet, or my aging body is to blame ... but I had to cancel an engagement last night ... one I was really looking forward to ... dinner with friends followed by a modern dance performance at the Shenkman Centre. I was all cleaned up and dressed in nice clothes, even wearing jewelry ... and due to leave within the half hour ... when I realized with absolute certainty that this was a mistake.
My plans for this next while are being downsized to match my energy levels, the weather, and the whims and other commitments of the people I need to help.
BUT ... the garden has to be ready soon to receive my birthday gift to myself ... a garden fireplace and barbecue ... one of the round fairly flat ones ... it will nestle into the rocky gravel of the zany zen garden beautifully, I think. I told them I would pick it up in two weeks.
I have to call Jim and see when he is going to come to build the box(es).
This weekend I will likely test-drive the glass painting equipment I bought at Michael's ... and wait to do all the outdoor parts of the job when the temperature rises again and we are not expecting precipitation of either type.
What strange weather ... from summer to winter in a week ...
I have been feeling ill since Wednesday ... tummy troubles ... not sure whether my water, my holding tank, my diet, or my aging body is to blame ... but I had to cancel an engagement last night ... one I was really looking forward to ... dinner with friends followed by a modern dance performance at the Shenkman Centre. I was all cleaned up and dressed in nice clothes, even wearing jewelry ... and due to leave within the half hour ... when I realized with absolute certainty that this was a mistake.
My plans for this next while are being downsized to match my energy levels, the weather, and the whims and other commitments of the people I need to help.
BUT ... the garden has to be ready soon to receive my birthday gift to myself ... a garden fireplace and barbecue ... one of the round fairly flat ones ... it will nestle into the rocky gravel of the zany zen garden beautifully, I think. I told them I would pick it up in two weeks.
On finding cookies everywhere ...
I am afraid that this day will tell whether Kenya continues to test the Crunch'nClean. She seems to have gone on strike.
First thing this morning I asked whether she wanted her cookie or whether she wanted to go out and pee first. She made it clear that the front door was her goal ... not the treasure trove of treats above her crate. When she came back in out of the damp cold I offered her the treat. She allowed it to fall to the floor. I played her game where she has to let a treat sit on her paw till she is told to take it. She picked it up in her mouth and I went off to make tea. Later I discovered it sitting on the floor and Kenya sat looking longingly at her food dish.
I fed her and she ate her breakfast ravenously ... as if kibble and yogurt was the best possible taste in the world. The Crunch'nClean lay on the floor nearby. Rejected.
First thing this morning I asked whether she wanted her cookie or whether she wanted to go out and pee first. She made it clear that the front door was her goal ... not the treasure trove of treats above her crate. When she came back in out of the damp cold I offered her the treat. She allowed it to fall to the floor. I played her game where she has to let a treat sit on her paw till she is told to take it. She picked it up in her mouth and I went off to make tea. Later I discovered it sitting on the floor and Kenya sat looking longingly at her food dish.
I fed her and she ate her breakfast ravenously ... as if kibble and yogurt was the best possible taste in the world. The Crunch'nClean lay on the floor nearby. Rejected.
Friday, 7 May 2010
First Taste Test Report on Crunch'nClean
The first one we are trying is made by Hartz, the people who make all those products for birds. If they can sharpen birds' beaks with cuttle bones, they should be able to create a doggy tooth brush, right? I examined the big box of Crunch'nClean for dogs under 20 pounds ... maximum for that size: 2 per day ... Kenya can have 8 per day. There are 35 calories in each biscuit so 280 calories worth of this treat for teeth in a day.
Then I read " not for human consumption". That led me to check out the ingredient list.
wheat flour ... not an auspicious beginning for my dog whose digestive system is not good with wheat.
ground whole wheat ... hmm ... or this ...
chicken meal
wheat germ meal ... more wheat
sodium hexametaphosphate
poultry fat
salt ... as well as sodium?
poultry digest
whey
malted barley
molasses
calcium
brewer's yeast
choline
sodium metabisulphate ... more sodium?
chlorophyl
colour
ferrous sulphate
vitamin e
2 zincs
vitamin b
vitamin a
2 coppers
niacin
calcium proteinate
manganous oxide
manganese
riboflavin
vitamin d
thiamin
another 2 sources of vitamin b
calcium iodate
sodium selenite ... yet another sodium
folic acid
That seems to be it ... an awful lot of wheat and sodium ...but only 35 calories ... just a little for a 90 pound dog.
Kenya's reaction to the taste of #1:
She liked the taste, but the next morning she stuck her nose up at this substitute for her Dentistix. As the day progressed I tried her again and she actually left it sitting on the staircase despite my attempts to convince her that it was a tasty treat.
Her breath is still okay ... perhaps not as nice as with Dentistix but not unpleasant.
Other effects noticed: She has farted a couple of times and Sadie (the puppy) has been very interested in the smell of her bum. Kenya is not a farter usually, likely because she has yogurt with every meal. In fact she looks shocked and turns around to sniff her own bum when the unexpected does happen, so this might be the result of the Crunch'nClean, but I doubt it since she is so reluctant to eat any of them and they are intended for such small dogs.
By the end of today she had actually chewed and ingested 4 of the 8 permitted.
She prefers the taste of her regular treats, and her regular food wins paws down over this treat. (Her regular food is usually way down on the list ... a mix of two types of Kibble: Gastro from the vet and lamb or chicken without wheat from Costco.)
We have been asked to try each dental treat for a week so we have 5 1/2 days to go before we try the next one. Either Kenya will acquiesce and accept this one or she will stop eating it entirely if it is bad enough, I guess.
Will keep you posted.
Then I read " not for human consumption". That led me to check out the ingredient list.
wheat flour ... not an auspicious beginning for my dog whose digestive system is not good with wheat.
ground whole wheat ... hmm ... or this ...
chicken meal
wheat germ meal ... more wheat
sodium hexametaphosphate
poultry fat
salt ... as well as sodium?
poultry digest
whey
malted barley
molasses
calcium
brewer's yeast
choline
sodium metabisulphate ... more sodium?
chlorophyl
colour
ferrous sulphate
vitamin e
2 zincs
vitamin b
vitamin a
2 coppers
niacin
calcium proteinate
manganous oxide
manganese
riboflavin
vitamin d
thiamin
another 2 sources of vitamin b
calcium iodate
sodium selenite ... yet another sodium
folic acid
That seems to be it ... an awful lot of wheat and sodium ...but only 35 calories ... just a little for a 90 pound dog.
Kenya's reaction to the taste of #1:
She liked the taste, but the next morning she stuck her nose up at this substitute for her Dentistix. As the day progressed I tried her again and she actually left it sitting on the staircase despite my attempts to convince her that it was a tasty treat.
Her breath is still okay ... perhaps not as nice as with Dentistix but not unpleasant.
Other effects noticed: She has farted a couple of times and Sadie (the puppy) has been very interested in the smell of her bum. Kenya is not a farter usually, likely because she has yogurt with every meal. In fact she looks shocked and turns around to sniff her own bum when the unexpected does happen, so this might be the result of the Crunch'nClean, but I doubt it since she is so reluctant to eat any of them and they are intended for such small dogs.
By the end of today she had actually chewed and ingested 4 of the 8 permitted.
She prefers the taste of her regular treats, and her regular food wins paws down over this treat. (Her regular food is usually way down on the list ... a mix of two types of Kibble: Gastro from the vet and lamb or chicken without wheat from Costco.)
We have been asked to try each dental treat for a week so we have 5 1/2 days to go before we try the next one. Either Kenya will acquiesce and accept this one or she will stop eating it entirely if it is bad enough, I guess.
Will keep you posted.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Optimistic Gardening Neophyte
This post has become as scattered as my thoughts and efforts related to gardening are. Sorry, but here you are ...
Yesterday I bought my soil and sheep manure and called Jim who is going to build my first raised square foot gardening box . He is a competent and reliable carpenter (rather than a fine craftsman) whom I know and trust. Today I will arrange for him to use my account for all the hardware necessary. I hope that I will be able to start mixing soil and manure and planting on the weekend.
I am very much an amateur at all this, but I am excited by the thought of actually producing food in a manageable garden that just requires a little care and attention. Boxes, pots and planters seem more manageable than plots, even though I know that weed seeds are ingenious travelers that move about as often by air as any other way. With the raised box there will enough depth of soil for the veggies as well as manageability.
Jim says he will be trying to convince me to build a second box. I am not so sure I want to bite off too much this first season. I will be planting other things like climbing green and yellow beans and herbs in the zany zen garden.
Someone said that a gardener is an optimist, a person who believes there will be a future. At almost 70, I guess I am a cautious optimist.
In other gardening news ...
I will also be asking Jim's advice about getting my composter working again. It has stopped and I have been chopping up orange peels and such in the blender before adding them, in an attempt to get it going properly. I was told yesterday that I should place the bin in the sun where the heat can help the action. I have had the thing for years but have never used the compost. Probably the richest soil on my property in under this thing.
I have laid a perimeter of broken eggshells around the hostas to discourage the slugs that have already begun to appear (often on Kenya's face ... she does find other species fascinating), and the mint I planted a couple of years ago on the hill is beginning to sprout anew, along with the indomitable oregano which thrives in a tiny patch of dappled sunshine nearby.
Last fall I transplanted the chives and lavender to a new spot in a corner of my grey water field because the lumber for the siding had to be piled where they grew. Despite the fact that it is not the sunniest place, they seem happy enough too. I want to have them in the zany zen garden, though ... and also the oregano ... not sure whether I will start new ones there or transplant these again.
Last fall, my friend, Sharon, planted nine little Mungo pines along the laneway and up by the parking lot. All but two survived. This year she is going to give me some low growing evergreens (the name is escaping me) for the lower garden ... and also some rocks and gravel from their gravel pit for the road.
Rowboat Flo gave me several large pails in which to store lake water near the garden. It will let the lake water warm up before I use it for watering. She has also started some herbs indoors that she has offered to share.
So I may be a neophyte, and a very cautious optimist, but I am surrounded by inveterate gardeners who are knowledgeable and generous with their time, expertise, and energy. These two gardens will produce good things.
Today I am going to buy two different types of paint so that I can turn a little garbage picking find into a useful piece of garden art. It is one of those little glass topped tables ... with an ugly black metal frame and removable glass top. When I am finished I hope it will look like a piece of abstract stained glass art. And that it will hold a tea cup or wine glass with a bit of whimsical flair.
Enjoy your day whether you are gardening or not, and join me in believing in a future in which all growing things can thrive and provide happiness.
Yesterday I bought my soil and sheep manure and called Jim who is going to build my first raised square foot gardening box . He is a competent and reliable carpenter (rather than a fine craftsman) whom I know and trust. Today I will arrange for him to use my account for all the hardware necessary. I hope that I will be able to start mixing soil and manure and planting on the weekend.
I am very much an amateur at all this, but I am excited by the thought of actually producing food in a manageable garden that just requires a little care and attention. Boxes, pots and planters seem more manageable than plots, even though I know that weed seeds are ingenious travelers that move about as often by air as any other way. With the raised box there will enough depth of soil for the veggies as well as manageability.
Jim says he will be trying to convince me to build a second box. I am not so sure I want to bite off too much this first season. I will be planting other things like climbing green and yellow beans and herbs in the zany zen garden.
Someone said that a gardener is an optimist, a person who believes there will be a future. At almost 70, I guess I am a cautious optimist.
In other gardening news ...
I will also be asking Jim's advice about getting my composter working again. It has stopped and I have been chopping up orange peels and such in the blender before adding them, in an attempt to get it going properly. I was told yesterday that I should place the bin in the sun where the heat can help the action. I have had the thing for years but have never used the compost. Probably the richest soil on my property in under this thing.
I have laid a perimeter of broken eggshells around the hostas to discourage the slugs that have already begun to appear (often on Kenya's face ... she does find other species fascinating), and the mint I planted a couple of years ago on the hill is beginning to sprout anew, along with the indomitable oregano which thrives in a tiny patch of dappled sunshine nearby.
Last fall I transplanted the chives and lavender to a new spot in a corner of my grey water field because the lumber for the siding had to be piled where they grew. Despite the fact that it is not the sunniest place, they seem happy enough too. I want to have them in the zany zen garden, though ... and also the oregano ... not sure whether I will start new ones there or transplant these again.
Last fall, my friend, Sharon, planted nine little Mungo pines along the laneway and up by the parking lot. All but two survived. This year she is going to give me some low growing evergreens (the name is escaping me) for the lower garden ... and also some rocks and gravel from their gravel pit for the road.
Rowboat Flo gave me several large pails in which to store lake water near the garden. It will let the lake water warm up before I use it for watering. She has also started some herbs indoors that she has offered to share.
So I may be a neophyte, and a very cautious optimist, but I am surrounded by inveterate gardeners who are knowledgeable and generous with their time, expertise, and energy. These two gardens will produce good things.
Today I am going to buy two different types of paint so that I can turn a little garbage picking find into a useful piece of garden art. It is one of those little glass topped tables ... with an ugly black metal frame and removable glass top. When I am finished I hope it will look like a piece of abstract stained glass art. And that it will hold a tea cup or wine glass with a bit of whimsical flair.
Enjoy your day whether you are gardening or not, and join me in believing in a future in which all growing things can thrive and provide happiness.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Kenya has a job ...
Of course, Kenya often has a job ... after all we dog sit here and she knows the rules and passes them on ... not always graciously, I might add. And Dan's puppy, Sadie, has some rules to learn when she visits ... specifically not to scratch with muddy paws on my doors and windows.
But now Kenya has another real job, one that she was sought out to do.
We have been asked to do some taste and breath testing on four different brands of oral hygiene treats.
Her current favourite ... the one she gets every morning ... and the one I can always retrieve her with ... because she LOVES them, is DENTISTIX, which is not part of the test.
She will be testing four treats as soon as they are delivered: one week per type ... and we will report on her desire for the treat, the effect on her teeth/tartar ...and her breath ... which incidentally, with Dentistix, is lovely.
Here they are ... stay tuned ...
But now Kenya has another real job, one that she was sought out to do.
We have been asked to do some taste and breath testing on four different brands of oral hygiene treats.
Her current favourite ... the one she gets every morning ... and the one I can always retrieve her with ... because she LOVES them, is DENTISTIX, which is not part of the test.
She will be testing four treats as soon as they are delivered: one week per type ... and we will report on her desire for the treat, the effect on her teeth/tartar ...and her breath ... which incidentally, with Dentistix, is lovely.
Here they are ... stay tuned ...
- Natural Defense Oral Health Treats
- Iams Tartar Treats
- Arm & Hammer White Bites
- Harts Crunch + Clean
-
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Spring is here ...
Yesterday I began one of my favourite warm weather weekend occupations ... garage saling. A good friend tells me I am crazy not to want more money ... not to want great luxury when I travel or entertain myself ... can't believe that I honestly have more fun my way.
I spent a lovely sociable morning starting with a garage sale where I bought nothing but chatted about inconsequential things like the warmth of the day.
Then I spent $2.50 across the road where I bought four tiny floral boxes for my lavender crop, a lovely deep turquoise glass bottle for a single flower for my bathroom, and a sky blue bottle painted in a nautical theme in which to serve water with outdoor meals. They threw in a small brass milk jug for my collection. All for $2.50!
Next I moseyed on down to the Anglican Church sale where I bought a gardening knife, a DVD and a book by a local author for $1.50. There I had a long chat with the old gentleman at the cash about something I had read about using garage sale serrated knives for cutting roots and dividing plants. He told me that the same knife I had just bought sold for over $20 when it was called a gardening knife.
Outside, a very elderly lady was selling house plants and perennials and enthusiastically dispensing free gardening advice with every purchase. I bought a healthy ivy plant for $6 and learned that old fashioned hairpins are excellent for encouraging plants to send their roots into the soil.
Imagine! A whole morning filled with happiness and treasures for $10!
On the gardening front ... my zen garden is becoming more zany than zen ... but Kenya lies on the hilltop each evening for hours contemplating the solar lights that change colour ... and I hope to spend a lot of time reading, writing and reflecting ... as I drink wine in the evenings ... once the black flies die off.
I spent a lovely sociable morning starting with a garage sale where I bought nothing but chatted about inconsequential things like the warmth of the day.
Then I spent $2.50 across the road where I bought four tiny floral boxes for my lavender crop, a lovely deep turquoise glass bottle for a single flower for my bathroom, and a sky blue bottle painted in a nautical theme in which to serve water with outdoor meals. They threw in a small brass milk jug for my collection. All for $2.50!
Next I moseyed on down to the Anglican Church sale where I bought a gardening knife, a DVD and a book by a local author for $1.50. There I had a long chat with the old gentleman at the cash about something I had read about using garage sale serrated knives for cutting roots and dividing plants. He told me that the same knife I had just bought sold for over $20 when it was called a gardening knife.
Outside, a very elderly lady was selling house plants and perennials and enthusiastically dispensing free gardening advice with every purchase. I bought a healthy ivy plant for $6 and learned that old fashioned hairpins are excellent for encouraging plants to send their roots into the soil.
Imagine! A whole morning filled with happiness and treasures for $10!
On the gardening front ... my zen garden is becoming more zany than zen ... but Kenya lies on the hilltop each evening for hours contemplating the solar lights that change colour ... and I hope to spend a lot of time reading, writing and reflecting ... as I drink wine in the evenings ... once the black flies die off.
Saturday, 1 May 2010
Friday, 30 April 2010
No Thinking Allowed
"The finest people marry the two sexes in their own person." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Apropos of nothing ... but I like the concept.
Yesterday I finally finished the taxes ... I know I made mistakes but I finally said "That's it! They can figure it out," and I drove to the post office and deposited both envelopes. The post mistress gave me the name of someone in Masham whom I will burden with my taxes next year. Then I went to Le Hibou and ordered their most decadent and delicious platter of smoked nachos and drank two glasses of red wine to celebrate coming out from under the cloud of taxes.
I get utterly frustrated while working with the figures, explanations and tiny almost invisible lines and numbers. I hate moving back and forth among the guide, the form, the extra sheets to fill in and the receipts and other documentation. It is not the arithmetic involved. That is no problem. It is the chaos of trying to keep that many details aloft all at one time.
I find it as difficult as working with drawings of three dimensional objects and attempting to see the spatial relationships among them.
I empathize completely with people who are dyslexic and others who cannot function in our literate world when I am faced with a task that demands competence in areas where I am sadly deficient.
I have several areas of incompetence ... and they seem to proliferate as the world becomes more complex and my brain ages, but taxes are one of those things that we all should be able to handle ... just like we should all be able to read, operate a computer, and drive a vehicle, because those are now just basic life skills.
On a much more pleasant subject, a neighbour gave me some hydrangea roots ... they are the bushes that produce those lovely snowball flowers that turn russety in the fall. I dug the holes for them (huge holes requiring removal of very large rocks), one in a corner within the perimeter of my new garden, the other just outside the perimeter near the opposite corner. I prepared the biggest hole with manure and fresh soil and tea leaves, and the other with the addition of crumbled egg shells. This morning I gave them both a drink of tea before making my own pot. (No, I didn't pee on them, despite the fact that they like urine.)
I have some wood ash, but I think it will make the soil too alkaline for these shrubs. Apparently hydrangeas like coffee grounds, citrus peel, as well as urine and tea ... and they might even turn blue or pink with the right PH.
I have also heard that copper added to the soil will encourage blue colouring. I have a bunch of copper piping that I want to use for trellises. Do you suppose my green and yellow beans will turn blue if I use them?
Today I intend to accomplish tasks that make absolutely no demands on my intellect. I will paint the garden furniture with the next coat of varnish and take my car to the village where I will vaccuum it and get it washed. I also intend to eat chicken breasts done with oranges (so the hydrangeas can have a treat later), basmati rice and some fiddleheads I picked yesterday afternoon at my secret spot on the other side of the lake.
If I decide I need some mental stimulation later I will do my April accounts and continue reading my newest book, In the Sanctuary of Outcasts by Neil White. I just finished reading Ten Chickens for a Saddle by Robyn Scott... can recommend both. Outcasts is about a man imprisoned for bank fraud in a leper colony, and Ten Chickens about a family that throws off their new Zealand life to raise their children in Botswana. Both reveal a great deal about what is important in life, but I think Ten Chickens is a better story ... less earnest.
And now I am off in pursuit of unthinking pleasures. Have a great weekend.
Apropos of nothing ... but I like the concept.
Yesterday I finally finished the taxes ... I know I made mistakes but I finally said "That's it! They can figure it out," and I drove to the post office and deposited both envelopes. The post mistress gave me the name of someone in Masham whom I will burden with my taxes next year. Then I went to Le Hibou and ordered their most decadent and delicious platter of smoked nachos and drank two glasses of red wine to celebrate coming out from under the cloud of taxes.
I get utterly frustrated while working with the figures, explanations and tiny almost invisible lines and numbers. I hate moving back and forth among the guide, the form, the extra sheets to fill in and the receipts and other documentation. It is not the arithmetic involved. That is no problem. It is the chaos of trying to keep that many details aloft all at one time.
I find it as difficult as working with drawings of three dimensional objects and attempting to see the spatial relationships among them.
I empathize completely with people who are dyslexic and others who cannot function in our literate world when I am faced with a task that demands competence in areas where I am sadly deficient.
I have several areas of incompetence ... and they seem to proliferate as the world becomes more complex and my brain ages, but taxes are one of those things that we all should be able to handle ... just like we should all be able to read, operate a computer, and drive a vehicle, because those are now just basic life skills.
On a much more pleasant subject, a neighbour gave me some hydrangea roots ... they are the bushes that produce those lovely snowball flowers that turn russety in the fall. I dug the holes for them (huge holes requiring removal of very large rocks), one in a corner within the perimeter of my new garden, the other just outside the perimeter near the opposite corner. I prepared the biggest hole with manure and fresh soil and tea leaves, and the other with the addition of crumbled egg shells. This morning I gave them both a drink of tea before making my own pot. (No, I didn't pee on them, despite the fact that they like urine.)
I have some wood ash, but I think it will make the soil too alkaline for these shrubs. Apparently hydrangeas like coffee grounds, citrus peel, as well as urine and tea ... and they might even turn blue or pink with the right PH.
I have also heard that copper added to the soil will encourage blue colouring. I have a bunch of copper piping that I want to use for trellises. Do you suppose my green and yellow beans will turn blue if I use them?
Today I intend to accomplish tasks that make absolutely no demands on my intellect. I will paint the garden furniture with the next coat of varnish and take my car to the village where I will vaccuum it and get it washed. I also intend to eat chicken breasts done with oranges (so the hydrangeas can have a treat later), basmati rice and some fiddleheads I picked yesterday afternoon at my secret spot on the other side of the lake.
If I decide I need some mental stimulation later I will do my April accounts and continue reading my newest book, In the Sanctuary of Outcasts by Neil White. I just finished reading Ten Chickens for a Saddle by Robyn Scott... can recommend both. Outcasts is about a man imprisoned for bank fraud in a leper colony, and Ten Chickens about a family that throws off their new Zealand life to raise their children in Botswana. Both reveal a great deal about what is important in life, but I think Ten Chickens is a better story ... less earnest.
And now I am off in pursuit of unthinking pleasures. Have a great weekend.
Sunday, 25 April 2010
Tiffany: a case of mistaken identity
An Email to a Friend sent Thursday:
Yesterday I took a break from the!@##$$$%% taxes and went to Montreal with a neighbour and friend.
Strange trip ... but fun. I thought she was inviting me to go to the fashion district with her sister but in fact she wanted me to accompany her to the Tiffany Glass Exhibition at Les Beaux Arts.
I prepared by shoving my camera and a skirt I wanted to find a top to match into my pack. It was only when we were actually on Sherbrooke Street looking for parking that she said we would not be going to the fashion centre she had mentioned; that her sister said it specialized in skimpy tops for very young people.
Before we made the trip, she had said that Tiffany would only be in town for a few more days and I thought Tiffany was a friend of her sister's ... someone coming with us! Duhhh ...
Anyway we had lunch with her very strange sister ... 70 years old ... and GLAMOROUS! For forty years she was Holt Renfrew's top salesperson selling Estee Lauder ... and believe me ... she proved that make- up can transform a woman. Skinny as hell. Spike heeled boots. A knee that juts out to the side. A packrat whose 3 bedroom apartment in NDG is so stuffed to overflowing that she has to sleep on the livingroom couch and she won't allow anyone in.
And delightful!
At the restaurant women kept coming up and telling her how much they missed her ... clients ... ranging from a chic fifties matron to a thirty-something lovely natural beauty who had been going to her since she was a teenager. And, except for the make-up, there wasn't even a hint of artifice about her.
So we were really there to go to Tiffany Exhibition:
I love stained glass ... used to do it ... still have my tools and some glass ... so it was fun to go to the Musee ... but oh my, I hate crowded galleries and museums ... you have to make your way through masses of hot sticky odiferous humanity to see the exhibits.
Montreal is fresh and green, and the women, as always, amazing ... it was a good break from the drudgery of taxes!
My friend's response:
LOL You thought Tiffany was a friend of her sister? That is hysterical. Did it ever occur to you that you might be seen as odd by some? Naw, not possible.
I guess everyone within a thousand miles of Montreal knew that the glass exhibition was in Montreal except me! I am going to have to leave the hermitage more often!
Yesterday I took a break from the!@##$$$%% taxes and went to Montreal with a neighbour and friend.
Strange trip ... but fun. I thought she was inviting me to go to the fashion district with her sister but in fact she wanted me to accompany her to the Tiffany Glass Exhibition at Les Beaux Arts.
I prepared by shoving my camera and a skirt I wanted to find a top to match into my pack. It was only when we were actually on Sherbrooke Street looking for parking that she said we would not be going to the fashion centre she had mentioned; that her sister said it specialized in skimpy tops for very young people.
Before we made the trip, she had said that Tiffany would only be in town for a few more days and I thought Tiffany was a friend of her sister's ... someone coming with us! Duhhh ...
Anyway we had lunch with her very strange sister ... 70 years old ... and GLAMOROUS! For forty years she was Holt Renfrew's top salesperson selling Estee Lauder ... and believe me ... she proved that make- up can transform a woman. Skinny as hell. Spike heeled boots. A knee that juts out to the side. A packrat whose 3 bedroom apartment in NDG is so stuffed to overflowing that she has to sleep on the livingroom couch and she won't allow anyone in.
And delightful!
At the restaurant women kept coming up and telling her how much they missed her ... clients ... ranging from a chic fifties matron to a thirty-something lovely natural beauty who had been going to her since she was a teenager. And, except for the make-up, there wasn't even a hint of artifice about her.
So we were really there to go to Tiffany Exhibition:
I love stained glass ... used to do it ... still have my tools and some glass ... so it was fun to go to the Musee ... but oh my, I hate crowded galleries and museums ... you have to make your way through masses of hot sticky odiferous humanity to see the exhibits.
Montreal is fresh and green, and the women, as always, amazing ... it was a good break from the drudgery of taxes!
My friend's response:
LOL You thought Tiffany was a friend of her sister? That is hysterical. Did it ever occur to you that you might be seen as odd by some? Naw, not possible.
I guess everyone within a thousand miles of Montreal knew that the glass exhibition was in Montreal except me! I am going to have to leave the hermitage more often!
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.
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.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
The Sun May Be Out, BUT ...
I have been cleaning up wood, sawdust, the porch, the windows, and repairing water damaged walls ... and ... and ... and.
I have just finished the harlequin table for Jenny, and I am now feeling completely snowed under, engulfed and drowning in tax forms.
Quebec residents fill out two completely separate forms so the misery of tax time is doubled ... perhaps more than doubled because I find myself attempting to translate the English translation at times. Some things are wonderfully clear (better than the federal tax forms) but others are indecipherable. Right now I am taking a mental health break..
Here is the table.
I have been invited to accompany a neighbour to Montreal tomorrow ... and I may decide to abandon the tax mess for a day in order to save my sanity.
I suspect my blogging will continue in earnest after the tax deadline.
I have just finished the harlequin table for Jenny, and I am now feeling completely snowed under, engulfed and drowning in tax forms.
Quebec residents fill out two completely separate forms so the misery of tax time is doubled ... perhaps more than doubled because I find myself attempting to translate the English translation at times. Some things are wonderfully clear (better than the federal tax forms) but others are indecipherable. Right now I am taking a mental health break..Here is the table.
I have been invited to accompany a neighbour to Montreal tomorrow ... and I may decide to abandon the tax mess for a day in order to save my sanity.
I suspect my blogging will continue in earnest after the tax deadline.
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Friday, 9 April 2010
The sun goes in and so do I ...
I haven't disappeared forever ... but like the sun which is little in evidence these days, I am not very visible. I didn't realize just how closely tied to sunlight my moods and energy levels were until we had that wonderful spate of clear skies and warmth and then lost them abruptly.
I have been working on harlequin diamonds on the table legs, balloon decorations on the table top, plaster on water damaged walls, and primer on them and the high chair I am recreating for the new baby we are expecting in September. Not very bloggable occupations, I am afraid.
I am also reading ... finished Three Cups of Tea and Tuesdays with Morrie and am now reading a collection of short stories ... Yesterday's Weather. I used to avoid reading short stories. They were over just as I was getting to really relate to the characters. I could appreciate the craftsmanship but I preferred novels which took me into another world and kept me there for a good long time. My reading habits have changed quite radically in the past few years. I am reading more non-fiction now too. Not sure why. Perhaps my attention span has gotten shorter or maybe my eyesight is not quite acute enough for extended periods with small print these days. Or maybe good movies have replaced the need for good books. It is easier to watch a good movie than it is to read a good book. All the interactive and interpretive work has been done by editors, directors and actors ... you just need to sit back and appreciate their interpretation rather than making meaning yourself.
A sad realization in so many ways ...
I wish the sun would come out so that I could get back outside to continue my yard and porch clean-up.
I have been working on harlequin diamonds on the table legs, balloon decorations on the table top, plaster on water damaged walls, and primer on them and the high chair I am recreating for the new baby we are expecting in September. Not very bloggable occupations, I am afraid.
I am also reading ... finished Three Cups of Tea and Tuesdays with Morrie and am now reading a collection of short stories ... Yesterday's Weather. I used to avoid reading short stories. They were over just as I was getting to really relate to the characters. I could appreciate the craftsmanship but I preferred novels which took me into another world and kept me there for a good long time. My reading habits have changed quite radically in the past few years. I am reading more non-fiction now too. Not sure why. Perhaps my attention span has gotten shorter or maybe my eyesight is not quite acute enough for extended periods with small print these days. Or maybe good movies have replaced the need for good books. It is easier to watch a good movie than it is to read a good book. All the interactive and interpretive work has been done by editors, directors and actors ... you just need to sit back and appreciate their interpretation rather than making meaning yourself.
A sad realization in so many ways ...
I wish the sun would come out so that I could get back outside to continue my yard and porch clean-up.
Sunday, 4 April 2010
A Time of Change
It is time to change my header photo. The last of the lake ice disappeared on Friday, Kenya spent all day yesterday celebrating the 9 degree water. Even Tom's grandsons leapt in (and out very quickly), and my next door neighbours christened their new kayaks.
Young old friends came for dinner on Friday and helped me get my recalcitrant screens back into the windows that had been installed upside down and then re-installed. They also helped me get my clothesline back up, but darkness overcame our efforts so that job was completed Saturday when I enlisted the help of the son of my next door neighbour to complete the ladder climbing part of the task.
I spent Saturday working on a table for Jenny, digging up sawdust, doing laundry, tidying up plants, and washing windows and floors. I managed to get 3/ 24 windows cleaned thoroughly . (When I planned this light bright house with its multitude of views I did not think about cleaning windows.)
My intention for today was to continue the work on windows and floors, but my hips and knees seem to have given out simultaneously, so this may be a day of rest and recuperation with some work on Jenny's plant table.
I am having fun with this one. She wanted teal as her base colour, but also lots of bright colour. Red, gold and cream circles of different sizes are splashed randomly on the teal top. Some overlap. Others float free. I figure they can become spots for plant saucers, but they are very balloon-like as well, so the legs will be done in harlequin diamonds using all four colours. The clown itself will not be there ... just his tights and his balloons. I hope to post a photo when I complete it, but I need to uninstall Picasa which is corrupted in some way and then re-install it.
Sarah phoned last week to suggest bringing a seafood feast to the lake today, but her baby became ill on Friday so we had to cancel that visit. It looks as if today will be another wonderful day so it is too bad they won't be here to enjoy it, but that, she said philosophically, is life.
I may put the kayak in for its maiden voyage this year. I don't need hips or knees, just upper body strength for kayaking. Or I may use the old clothesline to map out the pathway in the garden. Or I may just paint. Or I may take a book down to the deck and bask in the sunshine. And I will eat leftover roast beef for dinner with a dandelion green salad, red wine ... and too many of the gooey sweet delicious squares Julie left on Friday ...
Happy Easter, everyone.
Young old friends came for dinner on Friday and helped me get my recalcitrant screens back into the windows that had been installed upside down and then re-installed. They also helped me get my clothesline back up, but darkness overcame our efforts so that job was completed Saturday when I enlisted the help of the son of my next door neighbour to complete the ladder climbing part of the task.
I spent Saturday working on a table for Jenny, digging up sawdust, doing laundry, tidying up plants, and washing windows and floors. I managed to get 3/ 24 windows cleaned thoroughly . (When I planned this light bright house with its multitude of views I did not think about cleaning windows.)
My intention for today was to continue the work on windows and floors, but my hips and knees seem to have given out simultaneously, so this may be a day of rest and recuperation with some work on Jenny's plant table.
I am having fun with this one. She wanted teal as her base colour, but also lots of bright colour. Red, gold and cream circles of different sizes are splashed randomly on the teal top. Some overlap. Others float free. I figure they can become spots for plant saucers, but they are very balloon-like as well, so the legs will be done in harlequin diamonds using all four colours. The clown itself will not be there ... just his tights and his balloons. I hope to post a photo when I complete it, but I need to uninstall Picasa which is corrupted in some way and then re-install it.
Sarah phoned last week to suggest bringing a seafood feast to the lake today, but her baby became ill on Friday so we had to cancel that visit. It looks as if today will be another wonderful day so it is too bad they won't be here to enjoy it, but that, she said philosophically, is life.
I may put the kayak in for its maiden voyage this year. I don't need hips or knees, just upper body strength for kayaking. Or I may use the old clothesline to map out the pathway in the garden. Or I may just paint. Or I may take a book down to the deck and bask in the sunshine. And I will eat leftover roast beef for dinner with a dandelion green salad, red wine ... and too many of the gooey sweet delicious squares Julie left on Friday ...
Happy Easter, everyone.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Shot at 11 in the morning ...
Shot by a radar gun, that is ...
This morning ... I turned off the 105 onto the road that leads one past the funeral home, past the community spring, and through the village. The speed limit on this road is 50k/hr. I was likely traveling about 52 k. as I approached the man in black holding a gun pointed directly at me. I slowed to 50k just as he signaled me and the driver following me to pull over. I drove onto the siding at the spring as did the other guy. The police officer parked his vehicle behind us.
I was thinking, "What the hell did I do?", but assuming (as I always do) that I must be in the wrong. After all I'd been pulled over. And I had been going a couple of kilometres too fast.
I turned off my engine and rolled down my window. My heart was beating a whole lot faster than it usually is, and I was flushed — a sure sign that my blood pressure had jumped.
The officer came to my window and greeted me. I said hi and waited. His response was a smile, and the words, "You can go. It wasn't you."
I stopped at the post office to calm down and mail a letter. The post mistress laughed when I told her what had happened. But my heart didn't resume its normal rhythms till about two hours after I had put away my groceries.
This morning ... I turned off the 105 onto the road that leads one past the funeral home, past the community spring, and through the village. The speed limit on this road is 50k/hr. I was likely traveling about 52 k. as I approached the man in black holding a gun pointed directly at me. I slowed to 50k just as he signaled me and the driver following me to pull over. I drove onto the siding at the spring as did the other guy. The police officer parked his vehicle behind us.
I was thinking, "What the hell did I do?", but assuming (as I always do) that I must be in the wrong. After all I'd been pulled over. And I had been going a couple of kilometres too fast.
I turned off my engine and rolled down my window. My heart was beating a whole lot faster than it usually is, and I was flushed — a sure sign that my blood pressure had jumped.
The officer came to my window and greeted me. I said hi and waited. His response was a smile, and the words, "You can go. It wasn't you."
I stopped at the post office to calm down and mail a letter. The post mistress laughed when I told her what had happened. But my heart didn't resume its normal rhythms till about two hours after I had put away my groceries.
Help!
I hope someone reading this can give me some advice. I have a great deal of cedar sawdust (a couple of Rubbermaid bins full). If I can use this in some way, I will, but if not, I need to know of the best way to dispose of it.
I have read that throwing it into the woods, onto the lawn, or mixing with other compost may not be the best choices because cedar takes forever to rot away, and when it is decomposing it leaches nitrogen from the soil.
It is also not a wise choice for a fire starter in a wood stove, because it explodes.
I could make some little sachets for drawers and dog pillows to discourage moths and creepy crawlies, but really ... the amount of sawdust I am dealing with is far too large for such a project.
So ... any ideas?
And that, my friends, tells you how I will be spending several hours of this glorious weekend. The amazing temperatures will finally melt away all the residual ice and snow imprisoning the construction debris and free the lake from its current dangerous state of being halfway between water and ice. I will have to work in small bursts because my hips give way, but the weather should be good for several such spurts of industry.
Happy Easter weekend.
I have read that throwing it into the woods, onto the lawn, or mixing with other compost may not be the best choices because cedar takes forever to rot away, and when it is decomposing it leaches nitrogen from the soil.
It is also not a wise choice for a fire starter in a wood stove, because it explodes.
I could make some little sachets for drawers and dog pillows to discourage moths and creepy crawlies, but really ... the amount of sawdust I am dealing with is far too large for such a project.
So ... any ideas?
And that, my friends, tells you how I will be spending several hours of this glorious weekend. The amazing temperatures will finally melt away all the residual ice and snow imprisoning the construction debris and free the lake from its current dangerous state of being halfway between water and ice. I will have to work in small bursts because my hips give way, but the weather should be good for several such spurts of industry.
Happy Easter weekend.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
ee cummings did not share his home with either dogs or kids ...
... Now I have no proof of that statement ... but I can surmise. I do know that his first wife left him after nine months taking his only child, a daughter, away with her and refused to honour his 3 months per year custody rights; that he only got to know her when she was in her twenties, and not likely to play in mud luscious puddles on puddlicious afternoons.
I love his poem, but the reality for a dog owner living in the country is that all that delightful mud comes in on thick winter coats and paws and becomes, along with the shedding puffy masses of undercoat, sand, pine needles, and, in my case cedar sawdust from the latest construction work. After a few hours of sweeping, mopping, and bending, my floors are a little cleaner but my back feels as if it might break. I wish spring were over.
It is my least favourite season out here at the lake. It is the dirtiest season. The lake is unsafe so Kenya is unhappily restrained, and I am getting tired of always exercising her on-leash. Summer brings its own problems ... black flies, mosquitoes, and wet dog odours, but I can swim and kayak and enjoy the garden and deck, so those seem less formidable. Fall is the most beautiful time up here, followed closely by winter, despite the weather.
So ... while everyone happily quotes ee cummings in springtime, I say, bring on summer ... the sooner the better.
I love his poem, but the reality for a dog owner living in the country is that all that delightful mud comes in on thick winter coats and paws and becomes, along with the shedding puffy masses of undercoat, sand, pine needles, and, in my case cedar sawdust from the latest construction work. After a few hours of sweeping, mopping, and bending, my floors are a little cleaner but my back feels as if it might break. I wish spring were over.
It is my least favourite season out here at the lake. It is the dirtiest season. The lake is unsafe so Kenya is unhappily restrained, and I am getting tired of always exercising her on-leash. Summer brings its own problems ... black flies, mosquitoes, and wet dog odours, but I can swim and kayak and enjoy the garden and deck, so those seem less formidable. Fall is the most beautiful time up here, followed closely by winter, despite the weather.
So ... while everyone happily quotes ee cummings in springtime, I say, bring on summer ... the sooner the better.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Time and Money
Time ... it can be there to kill ... or on your hands ... or to spare ... or of the essence ...
I had some extra this morning while I waited to wake up enough to walk Kenya for an hour up the log road till she bristled at raccoon tracks and sniffed the bear poo, and then around the lake throwing sticks to give her extra exercise.
This is what I did with those extra minutes.
I tracked a $10 bill I had received in change a couple of days ago. Someone had written a website on the bill and I followed it to learn that my $10 was in excellent condition when the writer received it August 3, 2007 in Grandora, Saskatchewan. It had traveled 2,359 kilometres and gone from excellent to fair condition in the time it took to get to me.
963 days, 13 hours, 54 minutes had elapsed since she sent it off on its journey.
I was the only person in the trail, so I was left to wonder how many hands touched that bill in the nearly 3 year period, and what they used that $10 for.
If you have some time and a Canadian bill of any denomination on/in your hands, you could check out the website and send a bill on its journey yourself.
www.cdn-money.com
Enjoy whatever time you have today. It is crispy out there but not freezing except when the wind catches bare ears, and if you can find a sheltered spot in the sun it is practically basking weather, a good place to load up on the Vitamin D Canadians lack in the winter months.
I had some extra this morning while I waited to wake up enough to walk Kenya for an hour up the log road till she bristled at raccoon tracks and sniffed the bear poo, and then around the lake throwing sticks to give her extra exercise.
This is what I did with those extra minutes.
I tracked a $10 bill I had received in change a couple of days ago. Someone had written a website on the bill and I followed it to learn that my $10 was in excellent condition when the writer received it August 3, 2007 in Grandora, Saskatchewan. It had traveled 2,359 kilometres and gone from excellent to fair condition in the time it took to get to me.
963 days, 13 hours, 54 minutes had elapsed since she sent it off on its journey.
I was the only person in the trail, so I was left to wonder how many hands touched that bill in the nearly 3 year period, and what they used that $10 for.
If you have some time and a Canadian bill of any denomination on/in your hands, you could check out the website and send a bill on its journey yourself.
www.cdn-money.com
Enjoy whatever time you have today. It is crispy out there but not freezing except when the wind catches bare ears, and if you can find a sheltered spot in the sun it is practically basking weather, a good place to load up on the Vitamin D Canadians lack in the winter months.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Good Luck
Yesterday I was feeling lucky ... lucky to be alive ... lucky to be healthy ... lucky to live where I do ... so I bought my first lottery ticket in about fifteen years. I slept like a baby last night (a happy one) and dreamed about former students and animals I have liked. When Kenya climbed up on the bed at seven or so, I lay there waking up and dreaming about what I would do if my ticket actually won, if I actually had 41 million dollars to spend.
By the time I had fed Kenya and made tea, I had a very long list of things I would do with a win of any size. A big win would have made possible huge gifts to the people I love and the organizations I know are doing important good work where it is needed. It was harder to imagine how I would spend my own portion.
I would finish the house properly rather than doing things myself in my incompetent way ... things like the interiors of closets ... reparation of water damaged walls ... sanding of beams ... all the polyurethaning that would make my life simpler.
I would have the shed, decks, and stairs down to the lake built by someone who would do a good job.
I would replace my old low slung Toyota with an all wheel drive Honda CRV.
I would hire Property Solutions to help me clean up the property once and for all.
I would fly over and visit Pat.
I looked at the lottery results on-line and carefully examined my ticket.
I did not win anything ...
But you know, I didn't feel even a slight sense of disappointment. I realized that, although I couldn't give generous gifts to anyone, I still had my home, my dog who climbs up on my bed every morning, all those pieces of furniture to turn funky, my health, and people I love. And somehow or other, the things that need doing or the car I will eventually have to buy will happen, whether I win enough money to make it easy and instantaneous or not. I am still a lucky woman.
By the time I had fed Kenya and made tea, I had a very long list of things I would do with a win of any size. A big win would have made possible huge gifts to the people I love and the organizations I know are doing important good work where it is needed. It was harder to imagine how I would spend my own portion.
I would finish the house properly rather than doing things myself in my incompetent way ... things like the interiors of closets ... reparation of water damaged walls ... sanding of beams ... all the polyurethaning that would make my life simpler.
I would have the shed, decks, and stairs down to the lake built by someone who would do a good job.
I would replace my old low slung Toyota with an all wheel drive Honda CRV.
I would hire Property Solutions to help me clean up the property once and for all.
I would fly over and visit Pat.
I looked at the lottery results on-line and carefully examined my ticket.
I did not win anything ...
But you know, I didn't feel even a slight sense of disappointment. I realized that, although I couldn't give generous gifts to anyone, I still had my home, my dog who climbs up on my bed every morning, all those pieces of furniture to turn funky, my health, and people I love. And somehow or other, the things that need doing or the car I will eventually have to buy will happen, whether I win enough money to make it easy and instantaneous or not. I am still a lucky woman.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Grounded: Bad Dog, Kenya
My next door neighbour tattled and now Kenya is grounded ... tied until the lake thaws completely.
Garry told me that the dog I thought had finally learned her lesson because she was staying away from the ice, had, in fact, gone over to his place yesterday and played on the ice again.
So now she will have to wait out real spring ... when the lake become water again ... and swimmable.
Better safe than sorry ... and all those other platitudes ... but I do hate having to tie her out ...
Tomorrow we will go for long walks ... maybe up in the woods where she can lope along off leash.
Garry told me that the dog I thought had finally learned her lesson because she was staying away from the ice, had, in fact, gone over to his place yesterday and played on the ice again.
So now she will have to wait out real spring ... when the lake become water again ... and swimmable.
Better safe than sorry ... and all those other platitudes ... but I do hate having to tie her out ...
Tomorrow we will go for long walks ... maybe up in the woods where she can lope along off leash.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Too Old for St. Paddy's Day ...
Well, that's it ... my last celebration of St. Patrick's Day in a public place. I am just too old.
Especially in a too crowded restaurant ... too crowded to manage the service of food ... so noisy you couldn't hear yourself think or your friends talk ... so overwhelmed by their popularity that they ran out of fish and chips ...
Especially with a hungry child who becomes sullen when he doesn't get his fish and chips, doesn't like his chocolate milk, and is freaked out by the green whipped cream on his hot chocolate ...
Especially when the seating arrangement does not make conversation easy ... and one of the people at your table is completely deaf in the ear closest to you.
Wakefield is a community that will forgive a new restaurant for being unprepared for its first St. Patrick's Day, just as they forgave them the first weekend they opened and so many people showed up that they ran out of food. The community will remember the free green hats, the music, the readings, the free shots of Irish whiskey, the movie they showed, and the good food, even if wasn't the fish and chips they came for.
And they know that next time there will be enough fish and chips; that Le Hibou's owner, Una, will re-assess just as she did that first weekend, so that the same mistakes will not be made. Le Hibou will survive and grow from this experience.
I too have learned. I will visit Le Hibou in the afternoon when it is peaceful and the staff are not harried. I will take my journal, my water colour pencils, and a good pen ... and I will order something yummy or maybe just a glass of the restaurant-priced wine.
And I will continue to take my friends there for lunch, because Le Hibou is still my favourite restaurant.
Next March 17, however, I will make my own haddock and fries, I will drink cheap wine, and Kenya and I will wear green and watch The Commitments at home. And my friends will be welcome to join me.
.
Especially in a too crowded restaurant ... too crowded to manage the service of food ... so noisy you couldn't hear yourself think or your friends talk ... so overwhelmed by their popularity that they ran out of fish and chips ...
Especially with a hungry child who becomes sullen when he doesn't get his fish and chips, doesn't like his chocolate milk, and is freaked out by the green whipped cream on his hot chocolate ...
Especially when the seating arrangement does not make conversation easy ... and one of the people at your table is completely deaf in the ear closest to you.
Wakefield is a community that will forgive a new restaurant for being unprepared for its first St. Patrick's Day, just as they forgave them the first weekend they opened and so many people showed up that they ran out of food. The community will remember the free green hats, the music, the readings, the free shots of Irish whiskey, the movie they showed, and the good food, even if wasn't the fish and chips they came for.
And they know that next time there will be enough fish and chips; that Le Hibou's owner, Una, will re-assess just as she did that first weekend, so that the same mistakes will not be made. Le Hibou will survive and grow from this experience.
I too have learned. I will visit Le Hibou in the afternoon when it is peaceful and the staff are not harried. I will take my journal, my water colour pencils, and a good pen ... and I will order something yummy or maybe just a glass of the restaurant-priced wine.
And I will continue to take my friends there for lunch, because Le Hibou is still my favourite restaurant.
Next March 17, however, I will make my own haddock and fries, I will drink cheap wine, and Kenya and I will wear green and watch The Commitments at home. And my friends will be welcome to join me.
.
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Ice Floe Rescue Attempt
"Your goal should be out of reach, but not out of sight."
This advice may be wonderful for most enterprises, and certainly for the Olympic rowers urged on by it, but my basic premise has always been, "Don't risk falling into the waters of a partially frozen lake to save a dog. Kenya is younger and more agile, and her body weight of 80 pounds or so is distributed over four legs. She will save herself. You, on the other hand, will drown or die of hypothermia."
Yesterday, the dog I thought was smart enough to recognize the dangers inherent in the shifting cracking ice of Pike Lake decided to investigate to see if she could get closer to all the spring walkers enjoying the sunshine on the other side of the lake, and I broke my own rule.
I headed down to the shoreline with small pieces of cedar planking which I placed on the ice to allow me to get closer to her. I offered a Dentibone, thinking she might just be refusing to come in. She ignored the treat.
I tried going just a step or two closer. The ice began to crack and split apart beneath me. When the ice began to crumble away with every attempt to save myself, I felt the same terror Kenya must be feeling each time she tried to get back onto a solid footing.
Finally I felt solid ice beneath me, and turned back to shore.
When she saw me retreating, Kenya keened, a long drawn out plea for help.
I hurried a little faster.
By the time I returned with two sleds that I thought I would shoot over to her, she was pacing in the freezing slush. Her eyes never left me as I exhorted her to come NOW! FAST! she could do it. But after a few more half hearted attempts to get onto ice that would support her weight, she stayed where she was.
I realized the silliness of my plan at about the same instant she did. She looked over toward the floating dock now mired in ice and snow. And I shouted again, "C'mon, Girl. You can do it!"
She dashed across the moving ice floes to the dock and in a frenzy of relief spun around in circles on it before making the last run to shore to meet me.
We headed up to the warmth of the house where I dried her paws and she settled in before the fire with her dentibone. I lay down beside her, buried my face in her ruff, breathed in fresh air and sunshine, and exhaled relief.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
New Lady of the Lake Story
I just heard about Kenya's good deed yesterday, but she performed it about a month ago.
Sadie is our newest puppy on the lake. She is 5 months old, belongs to Dan, and follows Kenya everywhere when Dan has her up here at my end of the lake.
On this particular day Dan was walking Sadie off-leash around the lake. When Sadie saw Kenya on the ice, she ran off to join her. Dan was comfortable with that, but when he was ready to go back home, Sadie paid no attention to his pleas, demands and orders to come. Ignoring him completely, she continued to play. Dan kept on calling without success as he walked back towards his house.
When he got to the beach area he decided that enough was enough, but how to get a willful puppy to obey?
That's when he decided to use strategy.
He called Kenya, who came immediately, shadowed by little Sadie. The leash was snapped on, and the mission was accomplished. All that was left was to tell Kenya to go back home.
Good dog, Kenya!
Sadie is our newest puppy on the lake. She is 5 months old, belongs to Dan, and follows Kenya everywhere when Dan has her up here at my end of the lake.
On this particular day Dan was walking Sadie off-leash around the lake. When Sadie saw Kenya on the ice, she ran off to join her. Dan was comfortable with that, but when he was ready to go back home, Sadie paid no attention to his pleas, demands and orders to come. Ignoring him completely, she continued to play. Dan kept on calling without success as he walked back towards his house.
When he got to the beach area he decided that enough was enough, but how to get a willful puppy to obey?
That's when he decided to use strategy.
He called Kenya, who came immediately, shadowed by little Sadie. The leash was snapped on, and the mission was accomplished. All that was left was to tell Kenya to go back home.
Good dog, Kenya!
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Yes, I Can ...
New Look, Sugar, Cleaning and Taxes ... It Must Be Spring
Yesterday I emerged from the shower, took a good look at my hair, and decided to lop off a bunch. It has taken me nearly seventy years to get up the courage to cut my own hair. I wonder why it took so long to realize that hair grows back in. Maybe it has something to do with painting funky furniture and realizing that you can always sand a mistake back and do it again. Or maybe it is realizing that you never know what you can do until you try it. Or maybe I'm just cheap. Anyway I no longer look like an elderly native man ... more like Topsy.
This is Erin's first attempt to make maple syrup too. She and Rodger are tapping over thirty trees and producing wonderful maple syrup. Saturday we feasted on pancakes, homemade sausage patties made with lean local organic beef, salads, champagne and orange juice. I donated the smoked duck and dim sum I had purchased at T&T the day before, but my experiment with Asian groceries turned out to have been a mistake.
Before I left home, I tried steaming the first two dim sum dumplings, expecting to discover that they would have little treasures of tasty minced pork hidden inside. No. Steaming produced a gelatinous mess with nothing at the heart of the mushy globs and strands. I decided to try baking the remaining four at 350 for 30 minutes. This produced buns but not nice fluffy ones. More like little golden rocks.
The duck was fatty and tasted a little like the unpleasant smell I associate with Asian grocery stores. Now I know how the odour is produced ... by smoking. I have a feeling that you either develop a taste for Chinese smoked duck or you hate it forever. I fear I belong to the latter category, but at least now I know that the unpleasant smell has nothing to do with dirt or a nasty ingredient ... just with a smoking process that uses tea and rice. I prefer my duck crisp and orange flavoured, my tea piping hot, nicely steeped, and in a cup, and my rice in a bowl or on a plate.
The place overflowed with dogs ... Erin's two, Rodger's one, a strange little wiry creature that reminded me of a small wart hog, and a Golden Doodle named Marshall. (There seemed to be more but I didn't get to know all of them because most stayed outside.) When Kenya first saw Marshall she must have thought that it was Remi with a brushcut, and she chased him around the kitchen with her nose up his bum. Once she satisfied herself that this was a different Doodle, she fell in love, and spent the rest of her time with him.
Today I think I will begin my spring cleaning with my bedroom. Right now it looks like a repository for furniture I wanted to work on this winter. I want to restore its tranquility. (I haven't decided yet where I will store the chairs.) The second thing I am going to do is get the closet set up properly. I am tired of rods that collapse under the weight of clothing every few days. I will install large hooks on one side and a pair of rods on the other. I also have some patching and touch-up painting to do because of the first winter's problem with the roof.
Or maybe I will clear the dining room table and tackle the taxes. I have a feeling that will be a week-long exercise in frustration and angst.
Or maybe I will treat the two projects as on-going tasks that provide relief from one another.
The more I think about it the more I wish I could just start the funky high chair! The responsible side of me insists, though, that has to be my treat for getting the onerous jobs done first.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and have a good week.
Yesterday I emerged from the shower, took a good look at my hair, and decided to lop off a bunch. It has taken me nearly seventy years to get up the courage to cut my own hair. I wonder why it took so long to realize that hair grows back in. Maybe it has something to do with painting funky furniture and realizing that you can always sand a mistake back and do it again. Or maybe it is realizing that you never know what you can do until you try it. Or maybe I'm just cheap. Anyway I no longer look like an elderly native man ... more like Topsy.
This is Erin's first attempt to make maple syrup too. She and Rodger are tapping over thirty trees and producing wonderful maple syrup. Saturday we feasted on pancakes, homemade sausage patties made with lean local organic beef, salads, champagne and orange juice. I donated the smoked duck and dim sum I had purchased at T&T the day before, but my experiment with Asian groceries turned out to have been a mistake.
Before I left home, I tried steaming the first two dim sum dumplings, expecting to discover that they would have little treasures of tasty minced pork hidden inside. No. Steaming produced a gelatinous mess with nothing at the heart of the mushy globs and strands. I decided to try baking the remaining four at 350 for 30 minutes. This produced buns but not nice fluffy ones. More like little golden rocks.
The duck was fatty and tasted a little like the unpleasant smell I associate with Asian grocery stores. Now I know how the odour is produced ... by smoking. I have a feeling that you either develop a taste for Chinese smoked duck or you hate it forever. I fear I belong to the latter category, but at least now I know that the unpleasant smell has nothing to do with dirt or a nasty ingredient ... just with a smoking process that uses tea and rice. I prefer my duck crisp and orange flavoured, my tea piping hot, nicely steeped, and in a cup, and my rice in a bowl or on a plate.
The place overflowed with dogs ... Erin's two, Rodger's one, a strange little wiry creature that reminded me of a small wart hog, and a Golden Doodle named Marshall. (There seemed to be more but I didn't get to know all of them because most stayed outside.) When Kenya first saw Marshall she must have thought that it was Remi with a brushcut, and she chased him around the kitchen with her nose up his bum. Once she satisfied herself that this was a different Doodle, she fell in love, and spent the rest of her time with him.
Today I think I will begin my spring cleaning with my bedroom. Right now it looks like a repository for furniture I wanted to work on this winter. I want to restore its tranquility. (I haven't decided yet where I will store the chairs.) The second thing I am going to do is get the closet set up properly. I am tired of rods that collapse under the weight of clothing every few days. I will install large hooks on one side and a pair of rods on the other. I also have some patching and touch-up painting to do because of the first winter's problem with the roof.
Or maybe I will clear the dining room table and tackle the taxes. I have a feeling that will be a week-long exercise in frustration and angst.
Or maybe I will treat the two projects as on-going tasks that provide relief from one another.
The more I think about it the more I wish I could just start the funky high chair! The responsible side of me insists, though, that has to be my treat for getting the onerous jobs done first.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and have a good week.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Dog Treats
Well ... once again, it has been a while ... I have been feeding my soul with art, drama and companionable food experiences ... almost all, courtesy of my flurry of pet sitting activity last month.
Tamarak's show opening was a great success. I particularly loved her flow paintings in which the brilliant colours stand out against very dark backgrounds, especially the two that had clearly defined boundaries within them. My two favourites sold immediately. She sold about a quarter of her canvases in one afternoon.
The day after the opening, Tamarak and her family came here for an afternoon of snacks and wine. We were seven humans and four dogs so we enjoyed a full house of activity. Tamarak's brother took away the high chair I am making funky for an expected baby so that it could be made completely stable. I have it back now and am ready to begin painting. Just waiting for the ultrasound to tell me which colours to choose.
On Tuesday I spent a good part of the afternoon at Le Hibou with a friend from my Mongolian travels. We perched in the booth that gives a panoramic view of the river and an owl's eye view of the whole cafe. I had the moules frites; she had a salad; we discussed writing. She has been asked to write an article for a northern magazine about her teching experiences in the Arctic in the sixties. The whole afternoon was a treat for the senses and the mind, and the laughter we shared was a real bonus.
On Wednesday, we celebrated Tamarak's birthday by going to the GCTC to see Blood.Claat, an amazing 90 minute show written and performed by d'bi.young.anitafrika. She is wonderfully talented, seemingly inexhaustible, and intelligent. This one woman show which combines elements of "biography, poetry, music, myth, magic, monologue, and dialogue" is performed with an energy that crackles and surges like lightning or storm-lashed waves, but also with very human warmth. On a stage fitted with only corrugated steel walls, a stool, a washtub, a bottle of Dettol, and a clothesline, she created not only the Jamaican setting but also the illusion that there were several other characters. She moved smoothly from the central role of the fifteen year old protagonist to the other roles in an absolutely convincing way. Everyone from the religious auntie to the stern grandmother to the cool boyfriend came to life. If you have a chance to see it, do. It runs till March 21st.
Yesterday I was in town running errands at such diverse locations as the Book Mart, the huge Asian supermarket, T&T, and St. Vincent de Paul. I divested myself of "things", prepared to get rid of books, and wandered around T&T picking up things like Japanese bread, Asian sauces, smoked duck and dim sum. I ended up with a friend at a cafe eating a kangaroo burger and looking at art.
Today I am going to another friend's to help with sugaring ... the last of my treats for the soul.
I intend to spend next week house cleaning, working on a course I am offering, and doing my taxes.
By the end of the week I will be ready for more dog treats
Tamarak's show opening was a great success. I particularly loved her flow paintings in which the brilliant colours stand out against very dark backgrounds, especially the two that had clearly defined boundaries within them. My two favourites sold immediately. She sold about a quarter of her canvases in one afternoon.
The day after the opening, Tamarak and her family came here for an afternoon of snacks and wine. We were seven humans and four dogs so we enjoyed a full house of activity. Tamarak's brother took away the high chair I am making funky for an expected baby so that it could be made completely stable. I have it back now and am ready to begin painting. Just waiting for the ultrasound to tell me which colours to choose.
On Tuesday I spent a good part of the afternoon at Le Hibou with a friend from my Mongolian travels. We perched in the booth that gives a panoramic view of the river and an owl's eye view of the whole cafe. I had the moules frites; she had a salad; we discussed writing. She has been asked to write an article for a northern magazine about her teching experiences in the Arctic in the sixties. The whole afternoon was a treat for the senses and the mind, and the laughter we shared was a real bonus.
On Wednesday, we celebrated Tamarak's birthday by going to the GCTC to see Blood.Claat, an amazing 90 minute show written and performed by d'bi.young.anitafrika. She is wonderfully talented, seemingly inexhaustible, and intelligent. This one woman show which combines elements of "biography, poetry, music, myth, magic, monologue, and dialogue" is performed with an energy that crackles and surges like lightning or storm-lashed waves, but also with very human warmth. On a stage fitted with only corrugated steel walls, a stool, a washtub, a bottle of Dettol, and a clothesline, she created not only the Jamaican setting but also the illusion that there were several other characters. She moved smoothly from the central role of the fifteen year old protagonist to the other roles in an absolutely convincing way. Everyone from the religious auntie to the stern grandmother to the cool boyfriend came to life. If you have a chance to see it, do. It runs till March 21st.
Yesterday I was in town running errands at such diverse locations as the Book Mart, the huge Asian supermarket, T&T, and St. Vincent de Paul. I divested myself of "things", prepared to get rid of books, and wandered around T&T picking up things like Japanese bread, Asian sauces, smoked duck and dim sum. I ended up with a friend at a cafe eating a kangaroo burger and looking at art.
Today I am going to another friend's to help with sugaring ... the last of my treats for the soul.
I intend to spend next week house cleaning, working on a course I am offering, and doing my taxes.
By the end of the week I will be ready for more dog treats
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Dolls, Horizons and Redemption
Well ... I am beginning to think that busy unfocused people may need more boredom than old hermits do ...
I received a jolt of enthusiasm yesterday that sparked all kinds of ideas. I need infusions of excitement, not more boredom, I think.
My first issue of Cloth, Paper, Scissors arrived yesterday. In it were all kinds of wonderful projects, images and ideas. My very favourite was several pages of Earth Mother dolls created by participants in one of their contests. I loved them! Then there was the mixed media piece on landscape ... empty skyscape.
I opened my eyes this morning and looked out my window at the tree line across the lake with brand new eyes. All the things Tamarak has written about tree shapes came to mind, and the words of my sketch booking teacher filtered in ... it was magical.
I think I now have a germ of an idea for the chair for The Well, and some other ideas for smaller pieces ... and I am going to Tamarak's official show opening today so I am sure I will come away even more inspired by what she has done with this FLOW series. Most of them are ones I have not yet seen. All of her abstract work glows with vibrant colour and in these FLOW paintings, the the three dimensional flow lines become the horizons and create landscapes.
So ... as Julia Cameron prescribes ... For the next while I am going to rediscover my creativity by drinking deeply of the waters in the well that feeds the imagination. I am going to replenish myself by feasting on art and drama and other people's creativity. Later I can settle down at the lake and be bored enough to let that other brain begin making its own magic.
On a totally different topic ... This morning I read about a man convicted of white collar crime who was imprisoned in a leprosarium. He has written a memoir called In the Sanctuary of Outcasts which I am ordering. It is all about self acceptance ... taught to the author by an 80 year old leper who understood that her sense of self worth came from within, not from the world.
I received a jolt of enthusiasm yesterday that sparked all kinds of ideas. I need infusions of excitement, not more boredom, I think.
My first issue of Cloth, Paper, Scissors arrived yesterday. In it were all kinds of wonderful projects, images and ideas. My very favourite was several pages of Earth Mother dolls created by participants in one of their contests. I loved them! Then there was the mixed media piece on landscape ... empty skyscape.
I opened my eyes this morning and looked out my window at the tree line across the lake with brand new eyes. All the things Tamarak has written about tree shapes came to mind, and the words of my sketch booking teacher filtered in ... it was magical.
I think I now have a germ of an idea for the chair for The Well, and some other ideas for smaller pieces ... and I am going to Tamarak's official show opening today so I am sure I will come away even more inspired by what she has done with this FLOW series. Most of them are ones I have not yet seen. All of her abstract work glows with vibrant colour and in these FLOW paintings, the the three dimensional flow lines become the horizons and create landscapes.
So ... as Julia Cameron prescribes ... For the next while I am going to rediscover my creativity by drinking deeply of the waters in the well that feeds the imagination. I am going to replenish myself by feasting on art and drama and other people's creativity. Later I can settle down at the lake and be bored enough to let that other brain begin making its own magic.
On a totally different topic ... This morning I read about a man convicted of white collar crime who was imprisoned in a leprosarium. He has written a memoir called In the Sanctuary of Outcasts which I am ordering. It is all about self acceptance ... taught to the author by an 80 year old leper who understood that her sense of self worth came from within, not from the world.
Friday, 5 March 2010
On Cultivating Boredom
Apparently, boredom is a significant springboard to creativity. Neuroscientists have also found boredom to be a source of feelings of well being and a strong sense of self. In boredom, the brain continues to fire away in those regions that conjure hypothetical events and new possibilities. The wandering mind, the dream world, can be a better world than the real nuts-and-bolts world and for the artist, with the addition of task-positive skills, it can transform into the joyful business of making it happen.
So ... how to cultivate boredom?
1. Stay here at the lake all the time ... eventually it will become boring.
2. Stay off the computer when boredom begins ... and just look out the window instead ... or into the fire.
3. Don't watch a movie ... meditate instead.
4. Put that book down and just relax.
5. Don't start working on a new project unless it is one of boredom's gifts.
6. Don't substitute company or a drive for boredom ... welcome it.
7. Walk on familiar paths that require little thinking.
8. Snowshoe ... it is incredibly boring to simply put one foot in front of the other mile after mile.
9. Kayak around the lake noticing the shoreline, the paddle strokes, the trees.
10. Relax in the tub with just candles for light and let the mind wander.
11. Knit without distractions.
12. Do repetitive chores like sanding wood or patching cracked plaster.
13. Lie in bed an extra half hour just stroking Kenya's softness.
14. Doodle in a journal.
15. Make a zentangle.
16. Play with clay without intent ... in the same way zentangles happen.
So ... how to cultivate boredom?
1. Stay here at the lake all the time ... eventually it will become boring.
2. Stay off the computer when boredom begins ... and just look out the window instead ... or into the fire.
3. Don't watch a movie ... meditate instead.
4. Put that book down and just relax.
5. Don't start working on a new project unless it is one of boredom's gifts.
6. Don't substitute company or a drive for boredom ... welcome it.
7. Walk on familiar paths that require little thinking.
8. Snowshoe ... it is incredibly boring to simply put one foot in front of the other mile after mile.
9. Kayak around the lake noticing the shoreline, the paddle strokes, the trees.
10. Relax in the tub with just candles for light and let the mind wander.
11. Knit without distractions.
12. Do repetitive chores like sanding wood or patching cracked plaster.
13. Lie in bed an extra half hour just stroking Kenya's softness.
14. Doodle in a journal.
15. Make a zentangle.
16. Play with clay without intent ... in the same way zentangles happen.
How do you invite your unconscious mind to play?
Monday, 1 March 2010
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Life and Social Awkwardness
Just Life:
Clare's chair is finished and has been viewed and approved by Tom, her husband and best friend for fifty years.
I want to start a new project ... maybe something for Jesse's baby? ... maybe the chair for the Well? ... maybe another plant table to put in the shop? The shop, by the way, is closed more often than it is open. I think it may expire. But maybe it is just the winter doldrums. It would help if they shoveled the steps and either took down the OPEN sign or unlocked the door.
Maybe I should start a new knitting project. I just found something on-line called a love cocoon ... a soft little bag for a newborn ... or maybe a balaclava for Lucas whose hat slips down over his eyes when he is sledding with us? ... or maybe something new for Chelsea Katherine?
Peach is our resident visiting dog these days ... and she and Kenya have established a truce if not a friendship, so life is simpler now.
The power was out for 12 hours yesterday and I cooked on the wood stove and finished reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It reminded me of 84 Charing Cross Road, another novel written as a series of letters. I am thinking of recommending a trio of books for a book club evening: those two and No, I Don't Want to Join a Book Club by Virginia Ironsides ... all three are about reading and life, but more about life. All three are British. The third is wickedly funny, and is written as a series of diary entries rather than an exchange of letters.
On People:
I have met two people recently whom I have almost disliked, almost on sight. This doesn't happen often to me; I wonder if other people have this kind of almost instant negative reaction to people.
One is a young woman who oversteps boundaries ... becomes far too intimate given our relationship ... (she works with my dentist) ... She laughs too loudly and seems insincere as well. Perhaps a single example will show what I mean. The first time I met her and had a tooth filled, the dentist was trying to ascertain whether there were rough edges and asked me to run my tongue over the surface and tell her. I said I wasn't sure, and this young woman said, "Well you have to tell us; I'm not going to get my tongue in there and do it for you."
The other is a man who seems to be wearing a sign saying "kick me". He is like one of those Dickensian characters with names like Calvin Cringe or Geoffrey Grovel. Before he even spoke to me, I felt disdain, and, as soon as he opened his mouth, my feelings were validated. Probably years and years of being disliked on sight had made him into a man who behaves as if he expects to be hit; a fearful, overly apologetic man ... a little like one of those pathetically submissive dogs who incite other dogs to bully them.
They would make great characters in a piece of fiction ... one larger than life ... the other smaller ... one at either end of the spectrum of timidity and brashness.
It's not that I have no sympathy for socially awkward people. I am one myself. I do not do cocktail parties or art show openings well at all. I feel wooden ... as if I have overstayed my welcome or have left a conversation too abruptly and rudely. I used to hate parties on the lake ... the ones that occurred outdoors two or three times a year. I did not play horseshoes or feel competent engaging in competitive sports, and I always felt inferior to all the women who seemed so comfortable making polite small talk and brownies which they passed around. I would find a spot for my chair on the outskirts and become glued to it for the duration. Thank goodness the lake community no longer feels like a group of mismatched strangers who just happen to live in close proximity to one another, and feel obliged to eat hot dogs together on special occasions.
I was reminded of my own social ineptitude yesterday when I went to toast the first anniversary of the SNIP group (a spay-neuter-(barter)-initiative programme to prevent unwanted litters of kittens). Too few familiar faces, too much waiting around till it was time to break open the champagne -- it was cocktail party time all over again ... and I felt very uncomfortable. I was glad to scuttle home to my hermitage and the dogs.
Clare's chair is finished and has been viewed and approved by Tom, her husband and best friend for fifty years.
I want to start a new project ... maybe something for Jesse's baby? ... maybe the chair for the Well? ... maybe another plant table to put in the shop? The shop, by the way, is closed more often than it is open. I think it may expire. But maybe it is just the winter doldrums. It would help if they shoveled the steps and either took down the OPEN sign or unlocked the door.
Maybe I should start a new knitting project. I just found something on-line called a love cocoon ... a soft little bag for a newborn ... or maybe a balaclava for Lucas whose hat slips down over his eyes when he is sledding with us? ... or maybe something new for Chelsea Katherine?
Peach is our resident visiting dog these days ... and she and Kenya have established a truce if not a friendship, so life is simpler now.
The power was out for 12 hours yesterday and I cooked on the wood stove and finished reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It reminded me of 84 Charing Cross Road, another novel written as a series of letters. I am thinking of recommending a trio of books for a book club evening: those two and No, I Don't Want to Join a Book Club by Virginia Ironsides ... all three are about reading and life, but more about life. All three are British. The third is wickedly funny, and is written as a series of diary entries rather than an exchange of letters.
On People:
I have met two people recently whom I have almost disliked, almost on sight. This doesn't happen often to me; I wonder if other people have this kind of almost instant negative reaction to people.
One is a young woman who oversteps boundaries ... becomes far too intimate given our relationship ... (she works with my dentist) ... She laughs too loudly and seems insincere as well. Perhaps a single example will show what I mean. The first time I met her and had a tooth filled, the dentist was trying to ascertain whether there were rough edges and asked me to run my tongue over the surface and tell her. I said I wasn't sure, and this young woman said, "Well you have to tell us; I'm not going to get my tongue in there and do it for you."
The other is a man who seems to be wearing a sign saying "kick me". He is like one of those Dickensian characters with names like Calvin Cringe or Geoffrey Grovel. Before he even spoke to me, I felt disdain, and, as soon as he opened his mouth, my feelings were validated. Probably years and years of being disliked on sight had made him into a man who behaves as if he expects to be hit; a fearful, overly apologetic man ... a little like one of those pathetically submissive dogs who incite other dogs to bully them.
They would make great characters in a piece of fiction ... one larger than life ... the other smaller ... one at either end of the spectrum of timidity and brashness.
It's not that I have no sympathy for socially awkward people. I am one myself. I do not do cocktail parties or art show openings well at all. I feel wooden ... as if I have overstayed my welcome or have left a conversation too abruptly and rudely. I used to hate parties on the lake ... the ones that occurred outdoors two or three times a year. I did not play horseshoes or feel competent engaging in competitive sports, and I always felt inferior to all the women who seemed so comfortable making polite small talk and brownies which they passed around. I would find a spot for my chair on the outskirts and become glued to it for the duration. Thank goodness the lake community no longer feels like a group of mismatched strangers who just happen to live in close proximity to one another, and feel obliged to eat hot dogs together on special occasions.
I was reminded of my own social ineptitude yesterday when I went to toast the first anniversary of the SNIP group (a spay-neuter-(barter)-initiative programme to prevent unwanted litters of kittens). Too few familiar faces, too much waiting around till it was time to break open the champagne -- it was cocktail party time all over again ... and I felt very uncomfortable. I was glad to scuttle home to my hermitage and the dogs.
Friday, 19 February 2010
Decrepitude and Treats
I am writing this with a mouthful of soggy padding pressed up against a small excavation in my upper jaw ...
This morning Chelsea went back to her people and I rushed off to the dentist to have the broken tooth pulled ... that cost me two special treats this month, more than what I received for looking after Oberon for a month.
Yesterday I took myself out for a special treat ... a wonderfully relaxing massage ... Thank you, Remi.
I still have money for looking after Chelsea coming in, and a bit of Remi's money left ... and I will have Peach arriving next week ... so this was looking like a great month for special treats until I began to receive several bits of news designed to put the kibosh on treats for a while.
The first was the need for new glasses.
The next two came yesterday ... reminders of prepayment of taxes in March and June.
The last came this morning ... the extraction and an estimate for a partial plate ... to be done in the summer.
I hate the thought of a partial plate ... and not just because of the expense. I hate the thought of any mechanism in my mouth. I know people who are always losing their partial plates because they take them out when they are uncomfortable. And then there are all those jokes about false teeth ending up in odd places ...
I don't like the idea of anything unnatural in or on my body. Contact lenses for example. Even snorkeling with just flippers, a snorkel and goggles takes getting used to all over again every time. The one time I tried extra gear I ended up ripping everything off and just swimming. I don't even like wearing a hat, so my little phobia might derail my good intentions for the expensive partial plate.
This morning Chelsea went back to her people and I rushed off to the dentist to have the broken tooth pulled ... that cost me two special treats this month, more than what I received for looking after Oberon for a month.
Yesterday I took myself out for a special treat ... a wonderfully relaxing massage ... Thank you, Remi.
I still have money for looking after Chelsea coming in, and a bit of Remi's money left ... and I will have Peach arriving next week ... so this was looking like a great month for special treats until I began to receive several bits of news designed to put the kibosh on treats for a while.
The first was the need for new glasses.
The next two came yesterday ... reminders of prepayment of taxes in March and June.
The last came this morning ... the extraction and an estimate for a partial plate ... to be done in the summer.
I hate the thought of a partial plate ... and not just because of the expense. I hate the thought of any mechanism in my mouth. I know people who are always losing their partial plates because they take them out when they are uncomfortable. And then there are all those jokes about false teeth ending up in odd places ...
I don't like the idea of anything unnatural in or on my body. Contact lenses for example. Even snorkeling with just flippers, a snorkel and goggles takes getting used to all over again every time. The one time I tried extra gear I ended up ripping everything off and just swimming. I don't even like wearing a hat, so my little phobia might derail my good intentions for the expensive partial plate.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Moules et Frites at Le Hibou
I have been meaning to start my special treats for myself for some time. I decided to start with the Tuesday special at Le Hibou: moules et frites.
I love moules et frites and we have a long and happy history. I used to eat them in Ottawa ... in the market with a group of friends ... at a tiny little hole in the wall on Rideau with my best friend ... on a wharf in Bretagne frequented by truckers with a lovely gay friend, now deceased. Always moules et frites with red wine.
The moules et frites at Le Hibou lived up to all my expectations. They were served with a broth that had a strong hint of coconut and a glimmer of heat ... and a wonderful French stick with which to sop up the broth.
You will recall that I wanted to spend my extra money ... money from dogsitting ... money from selling funky furniture ... on special treats for the soul. Well this was my first attempt ... and it failed.
The owner of Le Hibou and our waitress announced that our meal was on the house ... a thank you for the carousel and the nice things I had said on my blog about Le Hibou.
My goodness! All I have done is tell the truth ... and play with their logo and give them a tiny gift because I am so happy they have become part of Wakefield.
I love moules et frites and we have a long and happy history. I used to eat them in Ottawa ... in the market with a group of friends ... at a tiny little hole in the wall on Rideau with my best friend ... on a wharf in Bretagne frequented by truckers with a lovely gay friend, now deceased. Always moules et frites with red wine.
The moules et frites at Le Hibou lived up to all my expectations. They were served with a broth that had a strong hint of coconut and a glimmer of heat ... and a wonderful French stick with which to sop up the broth.
You will recall that I wanted to spend my extra money ... money from dogsitting ... money from selling funky furniture ... on special treats for the soul. Well this was my first attempt ... and it failed.
The owner of Le Hibou and our waitress announced that our meal was on the house ... a thank you for the carousel and the nice things I had said on my blog about Le Hibou.
My goodness! All I have done is tell the truth ... and play with their logo and give them a tiny gift because I am so happy they have become part of Wakefield.
We Used to Die; Now We Outlive Our Body Parts ...
Good Grief! I am falling apart.
This week I have appointments with the eye doctor and the dentist ...
I almost didn't make it to the eye appointment because I locked myself out of my house and had to scoot across the lake with Kenya and the kicksled to try to catch Peter before he headed off to work. "Do you know how to break into my house?" I splurted out as soon as he opened the door. Kenya dashed in and made a tour while Peter served me coffee and said he would come over and try.
Kenya and I made it back across the lake before Peter, let Chelsea and Remi out of the porch and greeted Peter who opened the door without damaging anything.
My memory seems to be the first casualty. I had forgotten that I had locked the doors, and gone out to clean up after the dogs and the garbage men.
In the afternoon I went to the eye appointment and discovered that my left eye's close vision has changed again and I have the beginnings of cataracts. These two problems likely explain why I find it difficult to read these days.
On Friday I have a dental appointment to re-do a filling that was initially installed with a root canal in 1995; re-done in an African country a week or so later; fell apart in November, 2009, and was re-done in Quebec; broke a week or so later; was re-installed; and broke up again last Thursday.
It would be lovely if all the parts simply died at once ... the way they used to in the good old days ... or would it?
This week I have appointments with the eye doctor and the dentist ...
I almost didn't make it to the eye appointment because I locked myself out of my house and had to scoot across the lake with Kenya and the kicksled to try to catch Peter before he headed off to work. "Do you know how to break into my house?" I splurted out as soon as he opened the door. Kenya dashed in and made a tour while Peter served me coffee and said he would come over and try.
Kenya and I made it back across the lake before Peter, let Chelsea and Remi out of the porch and greeted Peter who opened the door without damaging anything.
My memory seems to be the first casualty. I had forgotten that I had locked the doors, and gone out to clean up after the dogs and the garbage men.
In the afternoon I went to the eye appointment and discovered that my left eye's close vision has changed again and I have the beginnings of cataracts. These two problems likely explain why I find it difficult to read these days.
On Friday I have a dental appointment to re-do a filling that was initially installed with a root canal in 1995; re-done in an African country a week or so later; fell apart in November, 2009, and was re-done in Quebec; broke a week or so later; was re-installed; and broke up again last Thursday.
It would be lovely if all the parts simply died at once ... the way they used to in the good old days ... or would it?
Monday, 15 February 2010
Friday, 5 February 2010
The End of the Saga ... The Beginning of Fun
The sled arrived this afternoon. A new driver in his fifties said they had decided to call in the old guy. He was returning to UPS to tell the supervisor that the road was A1 ... cleared, wide, sanded ... etc.
Now I just have to put it together. I may have to call in the big guns for this. but I will try myself first.
In the meantime I am painting away ... working on Clare's chair for a corner in my dining room, and a three tiered corner plant holder for the upper hall way. I like working for myself ... for my home ... and I suspect that I would be happier just doing these pieces for fun rather than even thinking about selling them.
I have been getting migraines again ... and I am wondering if the wood stove is to blame ... or the dryness of winter operating on my sinuses.
Now I just have to put it together. I may have to call in the big guns for this. but I will try myself first.
In the meantime I am painting away ... working on Clare's chair for a corner in my dining room, and a three tiered corner plant holder for the upper hall way. I like working for myself ... for my home ... and I suspect that I would be happier just doing these pieces for fun rather than even thinking about selling them.
I have been getting migraines again ... and I am wondering if the wood stove is to blame ... or the dryness of winter operating on my sinuses.
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Chapter ??? in the Saga
February 4, 2010
The Saga Goes On ...
I got two calls about the sled this morning ... one from the owner of the kicksled company ... apologetic and understanding ... and one from a female UPS employee in Ottawa who thinks this whole thing is just as foolish as I do. She said it is not just me; that as soon as we have our first snowfall, especially here in Quebec, the driver turns chicken. She told me that he refused to take the sled yesterday because he is afraid of my road. I told her (as I had told everyone else) that the road was fine but if he was scared of it he should leave it with my neighbour on Pike Lake Road. She said she would tell him the road was fine ... plowed and sanded and that the garbage truck was in on Wednesday and I had a Purolator delivery yesterday ... so what the hell is wrong with UPS. It was the first time I have laughed when talking to a UPS employee.
Keep your fingers crossed ... maybe I will see the sled today!
Update again:
She called back and informed me it would definitely come tomorrow. She was having a meeting with the driver and the supervisor this afternoon and the driver would be told to either deliver it to my house, or, if he was afraid of the road, to leave it at my nearest neighbour's place on Pike Lake Road. If I hadn't seen it by afternoon I was to check at the neighbour's.
This driver will likely end up with his ass in a sling over this ... but you know what? ... I don't much care. It seems to me that drivers should be able to drive. And if they are driving in the Ottawa region, they had better be prepared to drive in snow. This year it has cost almost $1200 to keep that road plowed and sanded ... and we have had almost no snow this year, so it is in topnotch shape. In fact it is the first year I have been able to park at my house instead of 1/4 kilometer away.
If this camera shy sled really arrives tomorrow I will post a photo.
The Saga Goes On ...
I got two calls about the sled this morning ... one from the owner of the kicksled company ... apologetic and understanding ... and one from a female UPS employee in Ottawa who thinks this whole thing is just as foolish as I do. She said it is not just me; that as soon as we have our first snowfall, especially here in Quebec, the driver turns chicken. She told me that he refused to take the sled yesterday because he is afraid of my road. I told her (as I had told everyone else) that the road was fine but if he was scared of it he should leave it with my neighbour on Pike Lake Road. She said she would tell him the road was fine ... plowed and sanded and that the garbage truck was in on Wednesday and I had a Purolator delivery yesterday ... so what the hell is wrong with UPS. It was the first time I have laughed when talking to a UPS employee.
Keep your fingers crossed ... maybe I will see the sled today!
Update again:
She called back and informed me it would definitely come tomorrow. She was having a meeting with the driver and the supervisor this afternoon and the driver would be told to either deliver it to my house, or, if he was afraid of the road, to leave it at my nearest neighbour's place on Pike Lake Road. If I hadn't seen it by afternoon I was to check at the neighbour's.
This driver will likely end up with his ass in a sling over this ... but you know what? ... I don't much care. It seems to me that drivers should be able to drive. And if they are driving in the Ottawa region, they had better be prepared to drive in snow. This year it has cost almost $1200 to keep that road plowed and sanded ... and we have had almost no snow this year, so it is in topnotch shape. In fact it is the first year I have been able to park at my house instead of 1/4 kilometer away.
If this camera shy sled really arrives tomorrow I will post a photo.
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
The Kicksled Saga Continues ...
They did not deliver my sled today. Now they say they will deliver it tomorrow. I will believe it when I see it. The last one I bought came directly from Finland ... with no trouble at all!
There are now two delivery services I will avoid: UPS and DICOM.
Tracking results provided by UPS: 03/02/2010 10:51 ET
There are now two delivery services I will avoid: UPS and DICOM.
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 03/02/2010 | 10:36 | THE PACKAGE WAS LEFT IN A UPS FACILITY / DELIVERY RESCHEDULED |
| 03/02/2010 | 6:49 | A CORRECT STREET NUMBER IS NEEDED FOR DELIVERY. UPS IS ATTEMPTING TO OBTAIN THIS INFORMATION / THE ADDRESS HAS BEEN CORRECTED. THE DELIVERY HAS BEEN RESCHEDULED | |
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 02/02/2010 | 9:08 | A DELIVERY CHANGE REQUEST FOR THIS PACKAGE WILL BE PROCESSED / DELIVERY TO AN ALTERNATE ADDRESS WAS REQUESTED |
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 01/02/2010 | 17:51 | A CORRECT STREET NUMBER IS NEEDED FOR DELIVERY. UPS IS ATTEMPTING TO OBTAIN THIS INFORMATION / NO ONE ANSWERED THE PHONE WHEN UPS CALLED |
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 29/01/2010 | 18:15 | A CORRECT COMPANY OR RECEIVER NAME IS NEEDED FOR DELIVERY. UPS IS ATTEMPTING TO OBTAIN THIS INFORMATION / DELIVERY RESCHEDULED |
| 29/01/2010 | 10:49 | DRIVER NEEDS SECURITY ACCESS WHICH MUST BE OBTAINED FROM RESIDENT/CONSIGNEE IN ORDER TO ENTER BUILDING | |
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 28/01/2010 | 10:49 | THE PACKAGE WAS LEFT IN A UPS FACILITY / DELIVERY RESCHEDULED |
| 28/01/2010 | 6:30 | OUT FOR DELIVERY | |
| 28/01/2010 | 4:50 | ARRIVAL SCAN | |
| LACHINE, QC, CA | 28/01/2010 | 2:50 | DEPARTURE SCAN |
| LACHINE, QC, CA | 27/01/2010 | 23:33 | ARRIVAL SCAN |
| OTTAWA, ON, CA | 27/01/2010 | 20:30 | DEPARTURE SCAN |
| 27/01/2010 | 15:54 | EMERGENCY CONDITIONS BEYOND UPS' CONTROL | |
| 27/01/2010 | 5:30 | ARRIVAL SCAN | |
| LACHINE, QC, CA | 27/01/2010 | 3:03 | DEPARTURE SCAN |
| LACHINE, QC, CA | 26/01/2010 | 20:25 | ARRIVAL SCAN |
| BLAINVILLE, QC, CA | 26/01/2010 | 20:00 | DEPARTURE SCAN |
Yesterday and Today
Cracks in the facades [can be] seen as opportunities; inspiration erupts as you careen over bumps in the road; you love the enticing magic that flows from situations that other people regard as rough or crooked. "That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal," wrote poet Charles Baudelaire, "from which it follows that irregularity -- that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment -- is an essential part and characteristic of beauty." (From Rob Breszny this morning)
I have finished the kitchen wall and shelving. This morning I added two pieces to hang my measuring cups and spoons ... and I fear I may have gone too far. I am not sure that the "slight offness" of the latest holders could be considered artistically beautiful ... or that Wabi Sabi really means getting it slightly wrong ... but at least now the area over my sink looks neater and things work better.
Have you ever noticed that once you clean up it becomes easier to keep it that way ... at least in the short term?
I have finished the kitchen wall and shelving. This morning I added two pieces to hang my measuring cups and spoons ... and I fear I may have gone too far. I am not sure that the "slight offness" of the latest holders could be considered artistically beautiful ... or that Wabi Sabi really means getting it slightly wrong ... but at least now the area over my sink looks neater and things work better.
Have you ever noticed that once you clean up it becomes easier to keep it that way ... at least in the short term?
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Mrs. Doubtfire and the Sled
The Sled Saga Continues
Today I spoke with Oky. He was the third UPS spokesperson I had contacted. Last week I had a few conversations with Tracey from DICOM and with Ron and his son from Kicksled Canada. An unexpected benefit of all this is that I seem to have overcome my phone phobia.
Oky tells me that UPS drivers do not carry cell phones. That is why this driver could not contact me as requested. In a previous post I mentioned that they do not seem to have snow tires or experience driving in Canadian winters either. I am certain that deliveries here in the Gatineau Hills require both the tires and the ability to drive in snow, and I am not sure how one can be an efficient delivery person, especially outside urban areas, without a cell phone.
Oky read through the delivery notes and started muttering about denied access. Like the last person I spoke to at UPS, he thought I must live in an apartment with an access code. I explained that this was not the case.
Oky asked whether it was a building site with an unsecured building and no access. I explained that it is a fully finished house.
I told Oky I thought that the driver had had trouble with access because of my road, and described the road with all its freshly plowed surface and freshly sprinkled sand.
I suggested that perhaps the driver had got lost, that he had ended up somewhere else. After all if he was unprepared to call me for directions, it was a distinct possibility.
Even without a phone, he could have managed to find me. He could have asked at any house on the lake, and he'd have been given directions to my place. Hell, someone would have hopped in his truck and directed him. They'd likely have offered to drive, for pity sakes.
It is not that difficult to find me or to deliver a package.
So who do they hire at UPS?
At DICOM they hire people who break sleds but who know how to find addresses and then drive to them. The second DICOM driver (not the one who broke the sled on its way to Ottawa) was a woman.
At the risk of sounding sexist, I wonder if that might account for the difference. A woman might have been more willing to ask how to get here.
Update on Mrs. Doubtfire
On a totally different subject, I feel great. It has been years since I have experienced a surge of energy that has lasted more than an hour or two. I have been cleaning and painting walls and installing shelves that I painted ... and I still energy to spare.
I have also noticed that Mrs. Doubtfire's belly rolls seem to be receding.
Isn't all this supposed to happen in the spring when one feels impelled to spring clean ... or just before childbirth, when one feels a need to scrub floors and feather a nest?
Well, it ain't spring, and I ain't no spring chicken about to pop out babies. But I no longer feel as if I am wearing Mrs' Doubtfire's body suit.
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