girl number twenty

A Blessing for the Impatient: Sewn Wool Socks

2012-01-25T16:32:00.008-05:00

A long time ago I tried to knit socks. It was an enthusiastic beginning - the class was thoroughly enjoyable, and I learned a new skill. And then pfththhthth...

Those who knit habitually fill me with awe. It remains a little like magic to me.

So what to do about socks, then? Lovely, hand-knit wool socks are frankly out of our price range, and yet there is nothing better. And I would love a pair that go up to my knees, or ones that I can fold over the tops of my rainboots. Ooooo, Ahhhhh....

And then I found someone who had done sewn socks! And they looked, well, normal!

So before solstice, Safiya and I spent a day wrangling the pattern, as it really needs a custom fit to not look schleppy. We wanted snappy, not schleppy. We used an old work sock for a basic pattern (the link above has links to a couple of places for tutorials/patterns). I put my foot through a couple of test runs because the lightly felted merino I was using wasn't in balance with the snug fit I was attempting. So I loosened the fit, switched to a different felt with a little less give, and TA-DA!

Mr. S.'s Solstice present.

Snappy.

I'll be making more of those.....

The Dolmade Effect

2012-01-24T22:39:00.003-05:00

I have a new lens for my camera. Don't you love the effect?

You may have noticed it in my previous post, as well. Unfortunately that lovely haze wears off. Actually, fortunately that lovely haze is wearing off, because it's the oily dressing from the dolmades that I stuffed into my bag before we went to the art gallery, thinking "I'm sure that will stay level."

Food and electronics don't mix.

Actually, they shouldn't let me have electronics, but there you are. Enjoy while it lasts!

The Gap

2012-01-22T19:07:00.012-05:00

It's been nine months since my last couple of posts. And before that little bit last April, there was a gap of almost a year.

I've figured it out. You see, I read other people's blogs and they have babies and there are pictures of them (the babies) sleeping on their (the parent's) lap and the person is knitting. And they say things like "I just can't help it - I have to do something creative every day." They live creative lives.

I don't ask myself how. That I know: there is no such thing as super-mom, -dad, -whoever. You trade what you want for what you can do. Baby got new hand-knit socks, but I'm not even going to think about posting a picture of the giant dust bunnies under the bed who will stealthily come out at night and eat said socks. Right? (Everyone nod in recognition :)

However, I have asked myself why. As in, why don't I? Apart from hectic last-minute hours of sewing presents, I've barely stepped foot in the studio. Granted, half the time the past year-and-a-half it was full of crap from our floor renovation, but it's not like I went down into the depths to retrieve my sewing because, you know, I needed to make something. Apparently I don't. And this made me feel less of a crafter, less....genuine.

I've gotten over it :)

And that's 'cause I've figured it out. Mr. S.'s Nana (who sadly passed away almost a year ago) said of me, before Safiya was born, that I was going to be a mother "like a hen to baby chicks". I had no idea what she meant. I was hoping it was a compliment, but I could tell by her tone that it wasn't, not exactly. It's taken me a while, but I get it now.

Have you ever tried to take a chick away from a hen? Hens are vicious. And it's true, I'm that kind of protective and watchful over my children. But you know what else? That's all hens do. They eat and they take care of their chicks. And that's me. All my energy, creative or otherwise, goes into my baby. And that's just the way it is.

Until one day the desire comes back. That restless feeling starts. Fabric bins are sorted for no other reason than to feel the fabric and see the wonderful colours.

The last time that happened was the beginning of this space five years ago: Valentine's Day, 2007. Safiya was two-and-a-half years old.

Zinadine's almost two. So if you see the odd sight of a hen clucking down the road, needle in hand (wing?), a cloud of fabric scraps trailing after her, don't worry, it's just me, flying the coop :)

It Takes a Life (or, My Brother is an Artist)

2011-04-30T09:26:00.009-05:00

(please note: I have yet to research how to do watermarks. if you love any of these images, contact my brother Jesse at leppjessearnold@gmail.com for permission to use them)

There are a couple of people I know who are artists. Not on the side, not having pretensions to art, not as an aspiration to a lifestyle, not as a job. It is who they are, living and breathing.

My brother Jesse is one of them.

Jesse writing out the info for his works before the opening

Growing up, he always doodled, always sketched, but has come to painting only just recently, and it's where he's found his voice.

He started to paint a year and a half ago, and has no training other than practice, passion, an excellent eye for composition and colour, and the little local "working with oils" course I gave him as a Christmas present last year. When I dream about being rich (idly, unfortunately :) among other things, I dream about being able to give him a studio and supplies, and shoving him in there with the imperative to "go, paint". He brings beauty to the world.

from the opening at the OPIRGBrock Infoshop

He has a wonderful sense of place. There are some artists who create idea art and whose art can only exist in public places. I once saw, at the Art Gallery of Ontario, a large installation (a word I'm getting a little tired of, honestly) of cheesies under boulders. Pieces like that are most definitely art - I love the public opportunity for interaction that these provide. It provoked much discussion amongst the people I was with, it was a statement of the human impact on environment and how we interact with our surroundings, and I still think about it.

But it wouldn't fit in my living room and I didn't want to take it home with me.

pieces I would like to take home with me

We all have vertical spaces in our homes and we like to put things on them to look at. Some of them are prints, some are photos, some you can see the brushstrokes - the fingerprints of the person who did them. Mr. S. and I have things on our walls, from friends and strangers, that still take my breath away or make me smile every time I walk down the hall or sit in our living room, even though they've been up there for years. And that's the power of good art - art that speaks to you.

"The Dreamers"

That's what Jesse is good at. His work is humane. It is grounded in what he sees around him and how he sees it. When I asked him about a particular piece and why he did it that way, he said very simply "because that's what it looks like there". Here's the painting:

"Approaching Dusk" Rodman Hall, St. Catharines, Ontario

I love it.

There is a show of his work in a small community centre in St. Catharines, Ontario for the month of May. It's at the OPIRG Brock Infoshop, 10 Summer Street, St. Catharines, Ontario. They are open Monday to Thursday from 10am - 4pm.

"God's Love," a hailstorm, Stewart Road farm in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario

Thank you Milica, Kasia, and Lisa for helping organise and set up, and Safiya for being cute

The opening was last night. It was exciting and I'm excited for him, for this first opportunity for his work to be in one place, to be accessible. He is generous and has a sense of humour about the whole thing - two of the paintings actually were gifts to two friends, but they wanted to give them back to him to be hung with the others. So Jesse let them each set the prices on those two pieces (which of course they set really high 'cause they don't want anyone else to buy them :)

"Logged"
this painting is for sale, at a price set by Jesse, not covetous friends :)

If you're in the area, please drop by, take a look, and sign his book. Or, if you're interested in any of his work, please feel free to contact him:

Jesse Lepp
leppjessearnold@gmail.com
inkwichsupplement.blogspot.com

My brother, the artist.

Takin' it to Town...

2011-04-27T18:29:00.009-05:00

Zinadine has a grunty-growly thing that he does when he wants something, and wants it badly. I don't remember Safiya doing the same, so maybe it's a boy thing, and maybe it's just him :)

I was putting groceries away when he spied the plum. Never seen one before. Shouldn't have know that it was edible, but boy did that boy want it. Now, we're a lot more relaxed about food with this one than we ever were with Safiya, but still...should I peel it? Is it even ripe?

Whatever. The boy did not care. Grrrrr. Want it. Grabby grabby. So of course, I gave it to him, if only to see what he would do with it. And he took. it. to. town. Skin, didn't matter. Juicy, didn't matter. He yelled at me when I took it away to take the pit out. It was a both-hands-stuff-in-mouth kind of experience.

I love watching him, experiencing the privilege of watching another kid grow. I love watching him watch his sister, his open-mouth-face-lit-up laugh when she does something that he thinks is awesome. I love that he pauses nursing late in the afternoon and casually signs "Dad", as if, "I was just thinking about him...." I love that he dances to his favourite songs (Queen's "Under Pressure" and Regina Spektor's "On the Radio") as if he's just discovered dancing. I love may many things about him and about having two kids.

It's been almost a year since my last post. Truth be told, besides the greatness that is having the boy and our little family, it's been a hard year. And my camera died in the middle of it, so the record of Zinadine's first year is going to be a little spottier than Safiya's. Call it second-child syndrome.

There have been more than a few times when I thought "I should write that down". I guess I wasn't ready. Well, time to think of a new banner, time to share some pics, time to use my words again.

Hello there.

They Get Big Fast and a Sewing Confession

2010-05-16T14:29:00.005-05:00

My midwife's only real rule for postpartum is, which she directed to me, but stated while looking squarely at Mr. S., "No cooking, cleaning, or laundry for 10 to 12 days".

I don't see sewing on that list, do you? ;-)

So, a skirt that should have really only taken a half hour finally gets finished (10 minutes at a time, using this free pattern from Oliver + S) by a Mama grateful, nay overjoyed, that her ankles aren't swollen like bloated baobob trees anymore. I did promise Safiya that I'd finish the skirt.

Having such a tiny baby around makes it just a little bittersweet that Safiya is so grown up.

That's a girl in that picture, you know? A real girl. And I said to Mr. S. this morning, the funny thing about having a boy, for all my "boys wear pink" and "we don't do the princess thing" (not the Disney version, anyway) is....it just makes me want to sew a bunch of skirts for Safiya. Lots and lots of skirts.

That is, in between sleeping and diapers and feeding and not sleeping and spending inordinate amounts of time adoring this sweetness:

You didn't think I could get through a post without a picture of him, did you? :-)

The Bump Arrives!

2010-05-11T10:07:00.002-05:00

We are cozy at home, now the four of us. Safiya is happy to announce that Zinadine arrived yesterday at 4:40am after a rather intense and dramatic 5 hour labour. He's tired now, and is going to have a nap. And a feed. And a nap. And a feed.....nap, feed, nap, feed. It's a hard life, being just over a day old :-)

Getting Ready to Bloom

2010-05-02T13:31:00.013-05:00

Today is a day of sun and warm breeze and, of unexpected peas!

Everything at our house is getting ready to bloom...

Including me!

Content, I have to laugh at a sidewalk chalk game that Safiya made up, 'cause it's something that I'm whispering to The Bump all the time now:

So Start!

Preparing for The Bump: Puddle Pads

2010-04-27T18:39:00.007-05:00

One of the best investments that Mr. S. and I ever made was in our bed. After a lifetime of foam and springs, our hand-made 100% wool bed by Shepherd's Dream really was a dream. It's warm in the winter and cool in the summer. We don't use air conditioning, and the wool bed keeps us so cool and dry during hot muggy summer nights.

To protect it I use big thrifted wool blankets, which I just put down on top of the mattress under the fitted sheet, but considering how many accidents, leaks, and general wetness that accompanies newborns, I wanted something easily changed but still effective. We have two wool puddle pads that we got way back when we got the bed, when Safiya was still a babe, but they're now a little out of our price range (they were well worth the initial cost, though - over the years they've washed beautifully, stayed thick, cozy, and soft, and absorbed wetness and odour very well).

So I thought I'd just make a little stack of puddle pads for on top of the sheets, planning to whisk away the top ones as they get wet. Thrifted wool blankets run about ten dollars around these parts, and after felting them I can get four puddle pads from one (I just cut them and zig-zagged the edges). They're not as thick and luxurious as the ones from Shepherd's Dream, and the weave is a bit looser, but at about $2.50 each, I can afford to double them up....actually, I can afford to sixteen-uple them up, which would be the equivalent cost :-)

Cozy, cozy! One more thing ready for The Bump...

What to Do With All Those Scraps?

2010-04-26T07:23:00.012-05:00

When I was little my Mom always had a little plastic bag taped to the side of her sewing machine table for the inevitable snippets and scraps that come with sewing so that she could easily collect them for the garbage.

As with any next generation, I went bigger and badder :-)

That big swing-top can sits snug against my sewing machine table and ever since I've started to seriously sew, it's been patiently engulfing all the little scraps and threads that are too small for my other scrap bins (yep - there are two more totes, one for wovens and one for knits/felt - those scraps are saved for projects like beanbags and blankets).

I choose to use mostly natural fabrics, which really wouldn't be a problem in the garbage since they would decompose pretty easily, but I use thrifted polyester-cotton thread and fabric some, and the idea of my craft resulting in bits of plastic sitting around forever and making their way into the food chain makes me shudder too much to sew a straight seam, so I've been collecting it (while trying to get away from the whole polyester thing in the first place). But what to do with all those scraps?

My pregnant self tried to take a nap outside the other day, and was quickly and uncomfortably made aware of the dearth of outside cushions in this house.

So, Safiya and I sewed up a giant cushion from cotton canvas that I had, and stuffed away!

Oh, if you decide to do something like this, make sure you check your scraps thoroughly. Some things we found that would be unpleasant to sit on:

And hey - there's my bag of yellow embroidery thread that I thought I lost last year!

There will be grommets on each corner so that I can hang it up for storage, and some kind of colourful cover is in the works, but it's pretty functional as it is. A couple of years' worth of scraps handily dealt with in one afternoon. It's a bit lumpy, but certainly comfortable enough:

And yes, I'm really only delaying the inevitable, because that cushion someday will meet it's demise, but let's hope it has a long and nap-filled life...

Story Dice for Ursa

2010-04-24T19:35:00.005-05:00

Once upon a time there was a friend of Safiya's named Ursa who liked to make up stories and who was having a seventh birthday.

Fortunately, Safiya's Mama was blessed with a solitary morning. This was because Safiya and Mr. S. had gone to proctor an exam at the university (it was Safiya's job to hand out the exams and remind everyone not to cheat). Safiya's Mama enjoyed her blissful morning by gathering up some supplies and leisurely crafting a birthday present for Ursa, having been inspired by some ideas for story dice that she saw posted on The Crafty Crow, by The Small Object, and by fo`ne`tic`lee speaking. It involved using her rather rusty drawing skills, but she approached the task with courage.

A house, ant, hot air balloon, orange shoes, green cat, blue elephant, clothesline, hopscotch, tree, paintbrush, bicycle, wings, wheelbarrow, mountain, rainclouds, stars, red purse, and birthday cake (with seven candles!) later, Safiya's Mama was quite pleased. She added some beeswax polish, a little sewn book (made from lined paper and a wallpaper sample from Farrow and Ball), a draw-string bag and ta-da!

A little bag of endless story possibilities, just waiting to come out!

It's the Little Things...

2010-04-23T20:52:00.007-05:00

Mr. S. walked into the kitchen last weekend only to discover my nine-months-pregnant-almost-due self perched on top of a stool, cleaning the top of the fridge.

"Uh-oh.....how many days have we got, then?" he said. You see, the last time 'round I did perfectly reasonably things like scrub the inside of the washing machine and the dishwasher right before Safiya was born. So Mr. S. is, understandably, a little freaked out :-)

Of course, impending baby is a great motivator, so there have been lots of little things accomplished lately, which is awesome. Like handles on the kitchen cabinets:

Like me finally sewing curtains for the bedroom (thanks to my friend Sandra who passed the raw goods on for me to work with!):

Like, having given up on being able to tie running shoes and degenerated into Euro-not-cool-in-any-way style 'cause I just didn't care anymore:

to redeeming myself with a $5.99-Value-Village bit of slip-on relief and cuteness:

Now, if I could just figure out how to get nailpolish onto those far-away toes......

Safiya's Doll

2010-04-21T15:21:00.004-05:00

This is not some horrible doll-torture picture. It is the loving process of adding the final touches to a very special addition to Safiya's world.

A while ago Safiya came to me with a request. She wanted a doll, nay longed for a doll. A proper doll that she could practise on for when The Bump arrives. She has a fair amount of stuffed animals (ahem, thank you, extended family...), but we'd not ventured into doll territory yet. Fortunately my friend Katharine had recently made Waldorf dolls for her kids using kits from Weir Dolls and Crafts, and had reported very favourably on the whole process.

Safiya and I chose the components together, and in this case, considering the imminent arrival of The Bump (we're now at about a week-ish to go....) and my propensity for procrastination and the whole I've-never-done-this-before thing, I chose a pre-stuffed head, pre-sewn fabric body parts, and partially assembled hair.

Safiya's growing excitement was infectious, and it was satisfying, trying this new thing. We stuffed and talked and planned and sewed. And I came to appreciate the instructions that were stated with regards to attaching the head to the body: "This will be difficult..."

Right, I thought smugly, that's for people who don't sew. Ha! It was hard! Which is good :-)

And when she was done, Safiya took her in her arms tenderly and named her Charlotte.

She looks happy to be here, and is well-loved, like any new addition to our family.

Dark Days Past and a Light for Uncle Larry

2010-04-19T20:28:00.003-05:00

Right now, I can hear the trickling of a neighbour's backyard pond, the quiet weightless exhale of a beautiful spring evening, the occasional twitter of a bird prolonging the day in trees just starting to green and the photo above of Safiya and Mr. S. seems from another age altogether.

However, it was only a little over six weeks ago that that picture was taken at my Aunt and Uncle's house. Six weeks ago when my Uncle Larry, a beloved fixture in our family, suddenly died of a heart attack at the workplace that he and my Aunt Ruth have shared for many many years. He was 52.

A year ago I posted a little bit about my aunt and uncle and how much the example of their lives had influenced me. They were a real couple - they lived for eachother and because they lived fairly far from family, they had had to work life out together, and writing all this in past tense hurts so much. But distance and time looses the tongue, about which I'm glad because my Uncle Larry deserves much more than a few words even though that's all I've got right now.

He was funny. He was a prankster and delightfully, unabashedly crazy, which probably made him the sanest, most evenly keeled person in our family. He was generous. He was tender and attentive to kids, which, given his coarse joking and bossing around revealed more about our preconceptions than it did about his personality. He would call. Very often it's only the women that maintain ties in a family, but not just my Aunt Ruth called - Larry called. He called when I had cancer. He called when Safiya was born. He called my grandparents, his in-laws, daily. Just to see how they were doing.

He could be a pain in the ass and we loved him for it. ("Oh, Larry..." with a smile and a roll of the eyes was a favourite refrain of my Aunt's.) Unafraid, approachable, and a great salesman, he and Ruth would have yard sales where most stuff on the yard was priced at a few pennies; Larry wasn't interested in the money, he was more interested in having a gab with whoever came by. Every single person who paid their respects in my Aunt and Uncle's small town (and there were so so many - you could tell when shift change was at the factory where he and my Aunt worked because there would be a hundred-person line-up at the funeral home) didn't offer a generic condolence; each one had a specific story, a particular anecdote that made us laugh through our tears. How could a person in dying make it such a rich experience for the rest of us left behind?

He did it easily, just by living.

We love you Uncle Larry, and you are greatly missed...

Tea, Colds, and Scrabble...

2010-03-02T10:45:00.004-05:00

Snots and sniffles and an earache or two have been the order of the days (and nights) for the past two weeks here. First Safiya, then me. The general wearing down has led to us parsing out our days into small bouts of chores, leisurely cooking, and long bouts of sitting and watching the snow melt.

We did brave the weather last week for three rounds of sledding, though. We haven't had real winter weather for months, and she was so excited when we got a proper snow ("now it's really winter") that I just stuffed my coat pockets with handkerchiefs and gamely followed her lead. Now it's all melting and there's talk of planting peas....

Safiya is the one who suggested the Scrabble today. Spelling, reading, strategy, adding, and multiplication all in the guise of a game that I can do while nursing a cup of lemon and honey tea? Done!

Works in Progress...

2010-02-23T19:33:00.005-05:00

My sock (yes, still the first one :-)

My freezer project happily underway; food for when The Bump arrives (so far we've got curry, spaghetti sauce, cookies, pancakes, soups, and some slices of the amazing toasted walnut and sundried tomato polenta that Mr. S. made on Friday...)

The Bump :-) A little over 2 months to go and all of the sudden, there seems so little time...

Shop Update!

2010-02-19T13:00:00.003-05:00

In defiance of the snow and cold, I'm thinking warmer weather and hoping you are too! I've listed a couple of cutlery rolls in my shop, and I'm looking forward to sending them out with dreams of picnics with lots of yummy food and sunny days....

And for fighting off the cold now or for the chilly spring days coming up, Safiya gamely modeled some of the new legwarmers/leggings for me, trying to sneak her favourites away in between :-)

Enjoy!

More Root Vegetables, Please!

2010-02-17T16:25:00.004-05:00

It's that time of year. I long for the farmers' markets. Our box of (mostly local) produce comes and I haul turnips, rutabagas, potatoes, storage apples, carrots and so on into the kitchen....and then stare at the abundance for a while.

One of my standbys is The Winter Vegetarian by Darra Goldstein, which, beyond having fantastic easily veganised recipes suitable for a northern climate, is a wonderful read full of food history and stories. It's a cuddle up in the bleak weather treat.

However, looking for new inspiration and building on my experience with the best salad ever a couple of years ago (a strawberry and onion chutney at an Indian restaurant), lately I've found that one of the most delightful ways to face root vegetables is east. A lot of south asian cuisine actually lends itself really well to root vegetables other than the usual potatoes and carrots. Try turnips simmered in a tomato based sauce with Indian spices and you'll see what I mean. This might be obvious for a lot of people, but it was such a welcome discovery for me that I'm kicking myself for not being more adventurous with my rutabagas sooner :-)

So, I introduce to you my very own grated celery root and apple salad with black mustard seed dressing:

Combine:

1 smallish celery root, peeled and grated
4-5 medium apples, cored and thinly sliced
juice from half a lemon
1 or 2 green onions, chopped
about 1 teaspoon finely grated ginger

Toast a couple of teaspoons of black mustard seeds in a couple of tablespoons of oil (I used canola) until they start popping (remove before they explode all over your kitchen!) and pour the warm dressing on top on the salad. Mix well and salt to taste.

Ta-da!

The 1900 House and Making Toothpaste

2010-02-15T19:12:00.012-05:00

Safiya is enamoured of The 1900 House. I took the DVD's out of the library one day, intending them for myself, and one day when I wasn't feeling particularly well, I popped it in. In general Safiya is adverse to unfamiliar media, but when they started talking about not having electricity and having to use the outhouse outside, she peaked around the corner and said "watcha' watchin'?"

And so starts Homeschooling History 101 :-)

One of the things which I do on-and-off but which Safiya now helps with with increased fervor after watching the show (a gazillion times) is making toothpaste. She likes to raise her eyebrows at the idea of having to brush your teeth with just baking soda - yucccch!, and thinks our recipe is greatly improved over what they did in the 1900's (after having tried the plain baking soda :-) She actually prefers it to the fruity kids' toothpaste that she had.

Here's the recipe, adapted from my well-worn copy of Jackie French's Natural Solutions:

3 parts baking soda
2 parts calcium carbonate (which I easily ordered from the pharmacy)
1 part vegetable glycerin
drops of peppermint essential oil, as desired

Mix well. Store in whatever way is easiest for you.

The first time she made it with me we decided to use an old, well-cleaned toothpaste tube and then duct-tape the end, which worked o.k. at the beginning, but then it leaked a bit at the end.

This time we wracked our brains and found a better solution. We increased the amount of glycerin to make it a bit more runny and reused old honey bears! Perfect!

Oh, and we're well on our way with the reality-tv-show based history curriculum. We've gone through Frontier House (she's trying to convince Mr. S. to keep chickens for eggs in our backyard) and are starting Manor House (originally The Edwardian Country House). This is proper education, right? ;-)

Preparing for The Bump: Food

2010-02-04T10:44:00.005-05:00

Our freezer, which was on a power bar (brilliant, I know), was turned off accidentally (I blame the cats, as they can't defend themselves). There was very little to rescue by the time we noticed what was going on. So, start all over again, right?

Thinking ahead to the very likely scenario of our family resorting to all-takeout-all-the-time when The Bump is born, and realising that in reality I prefer the taste (and cost!) of our homemade food, I've implemented a little planning that's actually been pretty easy so far.

Anything that I can make double batches of that freezes easily I'm doing now. This also has the added benefit of me not having to negotiate take-out ingredients, especially when I'll be tired with new baby and my defenses are down and I'm inclined to say "whatever, I don't care, I just need to eat something, damn the consequences!" :-)

Now, Mr. S. is a great cook, and I'll be able to rely on him to cook for us too, but some of this has to do with budget as well. I'm really really looking forward to the four months that he's taking in paternity leave, and wouldn't change that for the world. It also means that there will be a cut in funds to be creatively confronted for those four months, which is fine by me.

And it allows me to start playing in a small way with something I just learned from one of the new people who helps cook in our community kitchen for the free lunches on Tuesdays. We always prepare really good food with enough options so that no matter who walks in, there will be something to eat for them, carnivores and vegan celiac freaks like me alike. We do have budget and availability to consider, and we're trying to do what little we can to ease people into to the idea of eating seasonally and frugally. But then this new person (who is a phenomenal cook) comes in and starts asking if we have things like cream and cheese and sour cream! The decadence! The cost! :-) However, he made a really good point: Everyone deserves the best food we can possibly make, presented in a manner pleasing to the eye, because that's a way of feeding people too. So we've been making a little extra effort with presentation, which makes a bigger impact, even on me as a cook, than I imagined. We all know this, right? Any menu at a good restaurant teases you with the description and presentation of the food, not just what shows up on your plate. "Smoked chipotle chili" sounds better than just "chili". And that extra effort shows respect and consideration for the person eating the food.

So, after all that, what's the point? I guess when I look into my freezer, instead of trying to navigate unlabeled food of dubious origin dumped unceremoniously in a rush before it goes bad in the fridge, I think it'll be nicer to see things like this:

Even the cooks need to nourish their souls :-)

...And Then There Are Socks

2010-02-02T20:33:00.000-05:00

Isn't that a lovely scene? Indulgent and practical at the same time - the perfect combination. I really loved this class. Nevermind that coffee and yarn and needles was included; two hours on each of two Saturdays in the warm sunshine at the front of The Purple Purl and ta-da! my fear of knitting socks is a thing of the past, courtesy of Kate Atherly, our instructor. (She's the Technical Editor for Socks at Knitty - I love that there is such a person). I wish I had taken a picture of the inspiring, decadent pile of hand-knit socks that she brought with her - they were gorgeous! And, she showed us how to calculate the pattern for custom-fit socks - be still my beating heart (and ginormous feet!)

She was patient ("oh, that's o.k. - the swatch was really supposed to be ribbing instead of garter stitch, but why don't you go ahead and work a few rows while I talk about this next thing"), straightforward and helpful ("you're really twisted up here, I'll just rip out this little bit and get you started again"), and observant ("hmmmm, I'm not sure about your purl stitch - if you try it this way, you find your knit stitch easier to do). This is why, for me and knitting, a class is the way to go :-)

I like the light in this next photo, because really, it's a sacred moment, me actually having knit that much of a sock (and that photo is a day or two old, so there's almost double that now :-)....

I also learned that I cannot knit socks and talk at the same time, although I'm working on it. Also, fitting knitting into the day is a skill in and of itself. But I love the portability of knitting, and that even if I only put a few rows on each day, socks work up pretty quickly. And did I mention that I love wool socks? I'm committed, now...thanks Kate!

There Are Socks...

2010-02-02T19:40:00.008-05:00

These are my favourite socks. Wollen, warm, cozy, cushiony - they are the perfect cold weather socks. Consigned to the back of the sock drawer (if Mr. S. detects holey socks he chucks them!), they lay there forlorn until, inspired by Becky's darning post, I decided to rescue them.

I probably could have winged it, but I approach any new skill with hesitation (what if I mess up darning socks? what horrible unremovable mistakes could result?), so I used a Very Instructive Video.

This is my fuzzy in-process-shot (having no darning mushroom around, I instead availed myself of a lightbulb):

And this is my not-much-better results shot (black-on-black yarn doesn't show well, sorry, but look - no hole!):

And now they are cozy-comfy on my feet again! Oh thrift, how I love thee.....

Many Words for a Good Week

2010-01-31T20:53:00.012-05:00

See that light coming back into the house? That's another kind of new year for me. And that light arrived at the same time as a whole cascade of good things.

It started with an amazing community dinner. We had taken a break from the monthly community dinners in December, so it was good to gather with familiar and new folk, laugh in the kitchen, and eat hearty.

The next day my friend Tanya (who lives on the opposite side of the city - is it wrong that I not-so-secretly hope when they have to move they can't find a place in their neighbourhood and come to the east end? Hey...hey! Over here - it's cheaper here! :-) visited with her two (really lovely) kids. We re-connected, ordered Thai food and just hung out for the afternoon.

Saturday, well, last Saturday was a real treat. I had finally signed up for.....sock knitting! Woolen socks are right up there for me with chocolate, a thorough foot rub, and good sex, and I kept telling myself that it couldn't be that hard to learn. Bought a book and everything. Ignored book and sighed over expensive wool socks. Envied my friend Katharine's sock knitting prowess. Finally splurged (i.e. spent money on myself, which never happens without the prerequisite guilt) and signed up for a sock knitting class at The Purple Purl. It was indulgent and perfect and I'll write a bit more about it soon. This is the very first sock I knit, which Safiya is keeping for The Bump (which is what she calls her little brother-to-be). It is ridiculously small and I am inordinately proud of it:

Sunday a dinner with long neglected friends who Safiya adores. Anna and Carla leave this imprint on me, a kind of saturated, vivid emotional prism of light that does the heart wonders. Sustenance for Refik, Safiya and I came in the form of wonderful food, crazy laughter, surprise musical talents, and oil pastels. Our collective creative endeavours from that night now have a place of honour on the playroom wall:

And then last Monday came a crazy day where somehow things fell into place and a friend selflessly made the day so much easier. "Hey - no worries, Safiya can hang with us until Mr. S. can pick her up." "Hey - why don't you borrow our car?....and my cell phone." This from someone whose days are more hectic than mine. That help enabled me to in turn to be there for someone else, and I'm overwhelmed in a good way and constantly grateful.

And, on that same day, she gave me this:

Come on. It's a crocheted thyroid! It's beyond awesome, and I clutched it all day, a talisman to remind me where strength really comes from.

Then it was another great community lunch, a happy playdate for Safiya with a friend, and her circus class on Wednesday (where I witnessed her struggle with the idea of crazy groups of kids but also get in there like a dirty shirt and proudly master some new moves). Thursday I dragged her to a free lunchtime Canadian Opera Company concert ("I don't want to go!) which was so wonderfully crowded that we had to sit on the floor. She was mesmerised, as was I. Afterwards we tried a new sushi place and eagerly discussed which concerts we'd be able to go to in the following weeks. That day I also watched her swim. I mean really swim. It was short 'cause she's not quite mastered not swallowing the whole pool yet, but her little legs kicked and I could see where grace is going to soon emerge from that new-ability-awkwardness.

End up the week with a Friday-house-full-of-kids and good conversation, good homemade food, and just goodness all round, top it off with a Saturday where I wore grown-up clothes to a fabulous dinner at our friends' house with other grown-ups and our kids played and we stayed up late talking and then walked home on a just-past-full-moon night, and that will get you here.

Here. Safiya and Mr. S. went swimming together today. I sewed and listened to a little Ms. Reynolds. There was baking. Safiya requested to have that "really yummy soup" that we made together for lunch at dinner again. And, the house is clean. There's nothing sexier than a husband scrubbing the bathroom tiles in his boxers and socks :-) I'm also exhausted physically and have wicked heartburn, 'cause that's what The Bump does to me. I probably won't sleep very much tonight because of said heartburn.

But it's all good, and I wanted to write it down, and then go and dream of it....

On Dropping Out and Then Coming Back (or, Trying to Ignore Physics)

2009-12-01T15:35:00.009-05:00

This feels awkward. I'm still here, and I've desired to write lately, but there's a little something that keeps getting in the way, so I'd like to deal with it. Namely, not being around for a couple of months. I'm going to go beyond a simple apology because although what's been occupying my time and life really has been personal (and broader than what I'm going to write about now) and there are a lot of details that I'm going to omit here because yes, they're personal, there's something really important that I've learned that I'm going to write about because it's a lesson that I cannot let myself forget.

Mr. S. was right.

Ha! He'll like that....Actually, it's more along the lines of him, frustration in his eyes, sitting across from me at the kitchen table, saying "you can't take care of everybody."

Now, most of you who know me could probable take a stab at what would be my usual response to that. "No, but I can try...."

Guess what, I failed. How do I know? Because in trying to take care of everybody, I failed to take care of myself. I ended up with a huge thyroid hormone imbalance (I'm dependent on thyroid hormone replacement as my thyroid decided to mutiny a couple years back and I had it dealt with) and a massive B12 deficiency. While being pregnant. (p.s. baby's o.k. and kicking up a storm) Crawling on my hands and knees up the stairs to go to bed at 6pm wasn't a big enough hint. Having to bow out of volunteer commitments wasn't a big enough hint. Mr. S. doing the laundry, the cleaning, etc., etc., to cover for me wasn't a big enough hint. Even Safiya looking at me with a smile after a rare moment of light-heartedness from me and saying "Mama, I like your face like that!" wasn't a big enough hint. Not caring; being too tired to care after a lifetime of being able to find a little bit of beauty, no matter how small, in every single day didn't do it either. Actually, it was the not caring that frightened me the most (although, at the time....)

I don't do weakness well, and I certainly don't do vulnerability well. I understand that many, many people are dependent on something external to themselves for their mental health. To be brought to that lesson in a physical way (and by my own doing) was a harsh lesson for me. I am dependent on this:

That's my daily medicine. That is one molecule, one vital link, in all the hormonal workings in my body. And to this I say to myself, to remember: You cannot argue with physics. If you don't pay attention, sooner or later the physical world is going to smack you, and you'll be caught by surprise. Which brings me to gratitude. I have a great husband and daughter, a social safety net that provides free access to excellent physicians, and I have education and experience enough to know my way around the system to get what I need when it hits me that I am in need. That is, I am fortunate that my life has back-up and resiliency to allow for stupid self-care.

Hopefully I won't have to use it again. And it is my hope as well (and it's been proven already) that the lovely people around me also have back-up and resiliency to allow for my stupid self-care (which regretfully translated into neglect for some of my loved and much-liked ones). And to them I say, with much gratitude and humbleness....thank-you.

Now, let's carry on......

This One is For Ruthy

2009-11-28T19:10:00.000-05:00

Back in October at Thanksgiving, we were fortunate to meet up with old friends for the evening. Good people who now live far away and live separate lives from us - we were just getting to know them before they moved, so I was pleased to have the opportunity to see them again. I was taken aback (in a pleasant way) when she said, "Hey! You haven't blogged in a while!"

So this is for Ruthy, because she's the kind of person who so easily reminds me of the wonderful things in life to be grateful for.

I am grateful for (in no particular order):

The warmth of Safiya's little hand as we walk (she still takes mine automatically whenever we set out somewhere).

Cats. Somehow we've ended up with two cats. Cats are ridiculous creatures, and they make me laugh.

That tenacious streak in Mr. S. and that he's got my back.

Sleep.

My mother and I can drive eachother crazy (Mr. S. often says it's like listening to one person argue with themselves), and probably we both often fail to live up to one another's standards of what we think a mother or a daughter ought to be, but we've got the kind of relationship where after tensions rise, that's it, we're done, now let's go watch a sappy movie and cry together. She tries so hard to be a good person all the time (I've only recently gotten her swearing - it was necessary, and I was so proud of her), she's trustworthy, reliable, slightly crazy (as all mothers are), and I like her the way she is.

Morning sun. That first cleansing morning light.

People who don't remind you of your faults when you've failed, even when they're pretty obvious. I think that's called grace.

After a summer of not being in the studio, coming back and feeling like I'm falling in love all over again.

And that trepidation/joy feeling of new growth (five months of it so far, to be more or less exact :-)

I love that Safiya's drawn the baby upside-down and that I apparently have a gazillion legs.

Like I said, a lot to be grateful for.

Summer Sweet

2009-07-22T22:29:00.005-05:00

Sometimes you're lucky. Sometimes tomorrow is rainbow day at music camp and your Mom happens to have a pillowcase with a rainbow on it at home.

Sometimes you're lucky.

The Complex Life

2009-06-19T22:20:00.012-05:00

Safiya took this picture on the subway the other day. I love it.

Someone said, roughly speaking, that the "simple living" movement is a misnomer; that's it's really complex, rich, meaningful living that we're after, and that "simple" does not mean "easier". My life has certainly felt like that recently. Rich and busy since the last time I posted. So, to kind of update on at least one layer of my life:

Our neighbour removed the 10'x10' metal shed in our backyard so now Safiya has the largest sandbox (read "mudpit") ever...Hmmm, what else? I'll probably expand a lot on some of this stuff later, but since right now I'm supposed to be getting ready for the Leslieville Tree Festival tomorrow, here goes:

There was the day that my friend Katharine and I decided it was a great plan to take our four kids to the Textile Museum of Canada's annual fabric sale, walk a couple of subway stops to Royal Ontario Museum, and then top the day off with another friend's school fair (they all slept really well that night) ::

A new icecream place opened up right across from our favourite local park (bad idea, really bad idea :-) :: There's been the conflicts and dramas of childhood played out in said park, with many hugs and the stretching of confidence and bravery and the holding tight of her hand :: She had her friend over for her first sleep-over ::

Bike Pirates is a new favourite haunt, where Safiya has handled a wrench with much frustration and little aplomb, but has made new friends and changed her first set of brakepads (I'm so so proud) :: we've got a homemade bike trailer in the works ::

She and I went out of town with friends for a couple of days :: my good friend Lara's much anticipated baby was born, safe and sound (yay!) :: There have been visits from family, a graduation, and much last-minute house cleaning :: A rather dismal craft fair last weekend :: The farmer's markets have started up :: Music and swimming lessons have ended for the summer, and beach season has started ::

And in-between everything there are books to be read, questions about advertising on cereal boxes to be discussed, sarcasm to be discovered, popsicles to be bought with her own money, really bad jokes to be laughed at, sculptures of dinousaurs to be made, food to be made, arguments to be had, and a lot of laughing.

She's getting really big. And it's happening so very fast.

The Litterless Lunch and Food Fit for a...

2009-05-27T09:24:00.001-05:00

King? Queen? Sultan? A hungry kid and her mom.

Today is Wednesday, which means we have lunch at Sultan's after swimming lessons at the community centre. We are fortunate to have an amazing network of community centres in Toronto which provide an astonishing array of classes for large and small for very little money. We are also fortunate to have people like Tamara and Samer who provide the yummiest falafel ever, not to mention homemade lentil soup, vegetables with garlic sauce, and other delectable handmade Jordanian food (vegan and gluten-free not even on purpose!)....mmmmm.....it's only 8:45 in the morning and yet I crave already.....that's Tamara walking away in the picture below, protesting the picture :-)

Safiya has been taking classes at this particular community centre for a couple of years, so it is a ritual and delight to walk in at lunchtime. She orders "the usual" and has started being in charge of the money, and we chat with Tamara and Samer and watch Danforth Avenue life pass by, usually playing "I Spy" as we eat.

That white sauce on the vegetables is the garlic sauce. It's basically just garlic and oil blended together. Soooooo good.

This Wednesday ritual has also provided me with an opportunity to practice and perfect the litterless lunch. We try to eat mostly at home, but it would be foolish to pass up good Toronto food and the opportunity to support our small restauranteurs, so I always carry our water bottle and cutlery roll with us. And now, I've added a couple of tiffins (got them here, but I'm sure there are many places to get them) and, on Wednesdays, a lug-a-mug (Tamara makes Safiya a special sweet black tea with fresh mint that we savour on the way home). At Sultan's they gladly fill up the tiffens instead of the foam one-use dishes that are offered, as do most restaurants if you ask nicely and just emphasize that you're weird that way :-) Or, even better, with a smile say that you're trying out the first "R"; the reduce one. Most of the time no explanation is necessary, which is great.

The tiffins took a while to take, as with any new habit, but they're perfect for picnics, which we will be doing a lot more of as the weather gets warmer, and, also important, leftovers from restaurants, even ones that are sit-down with china (apparently if you have kids, you have left-overs :-) I don't know the energy input required to make these, but they're light, unbreakable, I can pass them down to Safiya, and they're better by leaps and bounds than recycling, which also requires high energy input and doesn't always happen as it's supposed to. Sometimes the recycling thing seems to me to be just a salve on the eco-conscious, kind of like buying indulgences were to the church in the Middle Ages.

So, if you're in Toronto, say hi to Tamara and Samer at Sultan's, which is at the north-east corner of Main Street and Danforth Avenue. And bring your tiffin :-)

Mending Mondays: Evolution of a Patch

2009-05-25T09:00:00.000-05:00

Remember the yelling hole in the pair of cords that I was working on patching? Well, two weeks ago I finished it, with little ado but a lot of satisfaction. So, using the tutorial that I posted worked fantasticly (is that a word?), although when it states "most pants have extra fabric that you can steal from to make a patch to match" (maybe that's another tutorial I'm thinking of - I vetted a lot of patching tutorials, you know :-) this is not true of factory made pants made by say, G*P (that's a swear word around here). They are stingy! I had to steal that little extra front pocket that I only ever use for tampons, and since these are destined for a guy friend, I doubt he'll miss it....

Here's that hole:

1. Inside reinforcing patch (just used a scrap of mine) to prevent further tearing, pinned, seen from the wrong side (the inside of the pants):

2. Seen from the right side:

3. I basted it on the right side so that I could see where I was going, and knew to stay on the inside of the pins:

4. Basted patch, seen from the wrong side:

5. I zigzagged around the edges of the patch:

6. Seen here from the right side of the pants:

7. And then, on the right side of the pants, zigzagged the edges of the hole (I know, this is getting really ugly):

8. So, the inside reinforcing patch is done. Now, made a matching patch from that little pocket and sewed it on the outside. Now, ideally, you'd have enough fabric to turn in the edges better and be picky about whether the patch itself was already a little worn, but whatever:

Ta-da! Considering that he said not to be to picky 'cause they're just hanging around pants, but they're his favourite, I say "not bad!" and pat myself on the back.

It's a crazy number of pictures for such a little thing, but I went a step further than the other tutorial by adding an outside patch as well. I think it's a really effective, thorough way of repairing clothes, and I fully intend to keep doing it this way. Also, I have to teach Safiya how to do this, 'cause she's just taken a pair of scissors to her newest jeans that she got from Granny. When I asked her about it, she said, "That's o.k.! We can just patch them!" Ha!

In Which a Young-ish Woman's Brain and Body Start Arguing

2009-05-21T20:21:00.004-05:00

I found this awesome pillowcase on Mother's Day. It made me laugh out loud in the thrift shop. Seriously? Ahhh, 1976 (it says so on the pillowcase).

I need pillowcases like this to remind me of everything. Could you imagine? I mean, if you sat and embroidered or silk-screened "email your cousin" or "pick up soymilk" on a pillowcase, you would remember, right?

It's been a month, almost. For a while there I was falling asleep with Safiya at 9pm, which does wonders for tiredness (kind of) but nothing for blogging. And then it got into the guilt loop of if-i-take-a-look-at-the-blog-it-will-remind-me-that-i've-neglected-it. And then life got a bit crazy, and there were obligations and duties just like there aways is, and grabbing moments while I could became very important. It's odd that although this place is a retreat for me in many ways, to someone on the other side, the majority of my life and joys and fears and worries and work are in the background. It's like I've put a really pretty flower-shaped-crafty tatoo on my arm that becomes a focus, an identity, but there's the whole rest of my body that is covered up.

And I feel that writing only about the tatoo is becoming limiting.

This may go somewhere, it may not. For once, I'm not promising anything...

Green Dress for a Green Award

2009-04-23T13:14:00.010-05:00

This is one of my favourite fabrics, and I've been saving it for something special. Tonight is the Green Toronto Awards, and Not Far From The Tree is a finalist! Yay! Safiya and I are invited with Laura to the reception beforehand, and then Mr. S. is joing us for the awards later in the evening. I'm really excited for Not Far From The Tree - cheer for us!

I made it this morning, out of a pink tablecloth (the back), that favourite fabric of mine (which was an apron), some other scraps, and some vintage buttons. Green dress for a green award (we hope!) - an offering to you, dear readers, to balance out how curmudgeonly I was yesterday. I was thinking late last night that maybe Earth Day for some people is like Christmas for others. It doesn't make sense to waste resources in the middle of a long cold winter to have a big party, but sometimes it's what people need. It's the corporate "sponsors" that irk me, not the people I know, my neighbours, celebrating Mother Earth :-)

Now, I need to give Safiya a bath to remove the honey from her person before we leave....

I'm so excited! Wish us luck!

EVERY DAY IS EARTH DAY

2009-04-22T21:40:00.006-05:00

Yes, that's me yelling. This is my obligatory Earth Day post. Mostly, "Earth Day" makes me feel like cussing.

So, two quotes. The first, from one of the best movies ever, The Princess Bride. The second, from Ali, the prophet Muhammad's son-in-law, who became fourth Caliph of the Islamic Empire in 656. You can regard whichever one you like as the most authoritative.

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

"Truly the destruction of the earth only results from the destitution of its inhabitants, and its inhabitants become destitute only when rulers concern themselves with amassing wealth, when they have misgivings about the endurance of their own rule and when they profit little from warning examples."

Now, I'm going to go back to clapping my hands to save Tinkerbell......

Mending Mondays: Mending Myself

2009-04-20T19:42:00.001-05:00

The cold knocked me out. The rain knocked the kitchen ceiling out. This means that as soon as I recover I'll be on the phone trying to find a roofing company who will just do repairs and not try to convince me to replace our whole roof. Of course, if the guy with the dreads in this video came and told me to replace our roof, I'd do it in a heartbeat ;-)

Don't ask me how I found that. Sometimes a girl just wants to know how to make shingles. (ahem. he shows up at 4:55 by the way. you know, in case you're wondering.) And randomly, the only good thing about getting a wicked cold and sore throat is that I get to crack open one of the last jars of garlic I made in the fall:

Mmmmmm dill pickled garlic. That'll cure 'ya.

And, unfortunately, keep the cute shingle guy away. sigh.......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

p.s. yes, i know it's tuesday again. i started this post yesterday and then went for a nap. sorry - one of these days my body will catch up with my brain :-)

Hunt and Gather at The Workroom

2009-04-19T19:00:00.010-05:00

I love The Workroom. Karyn lives craft. It can't get much better than that. And she's created such a welcoming space; it's airy and cosy, which is quite a feat. Too bad it's on the other side of town from me, but that makes it more of an event for me when I do get down there.

And the fabrics! I do my best to only buy second-hand fabrics, but I think the biggest compliment I could give to Karyn's fine eye is that her selection has tempted me many a time to fall off that particular wagon ;-) (I haven't given in yet, but I think it's inevitable....)

The show today was lovely - not quite as hopping as the last one, which was actually good because I'm fighting whatever cold nastiness Mr. S. has and I'm feeling a little lopsided. This allowed me to peruse many of the craft books that Karyn has for sale (and perusal :-) So, my pictures may be a little lopsided too - for a better idea of the whole day and to check out the other vendors' loveliness, check out Karyn's pics.

All of the vendors (links here) are truly talented and it's a joy to see all the jewel-like cases of goodness spread out like a specially selected, intimate, and well considered bazaar. My case was a jumble, as usual - I've really got to work on my visuals, I think. I got to hang some stuff (thanks Becky!), which helped a lot.

Mr. S. is unwell, and since I was feeling it coming on, Safiya stayed home with him, which was just as well, but I did miss her. Lately Mr. S. and she have started a tradition; whenever I do a trunk show here, they make a new piece of clothing for the resident doll, something which Karyn very kindly gave her blessing to. Miss Doll will have to wait until next time, sad to say.

I slipped out a bit early, slugged home, and am curled up pathetically in the spare room. At least most of the day was really nice :-)

The Story of the Mountain of Sweaters

2009-04-17T23:50:00.003-05:00

I have an Aunt and Uncle who are great jokers, storytellers, and generally good to hang around with. Come to think of it, most of my aunts and uncles are like this. But, growing up, this particular couple was always regaling us in amazement with tales of how things just "happened". Coincidences, good luck, or what have you; good stuff somehow always happened to them. They were always so lucky.

As I got older I realised two things: one, they work very very hard, and two, they are genial people, that is, they talk...to practically anyone, and they pay attention. And so, I believe, they make their luck. This was an important lesson for a serious, reserved introvert such as I.

And so, I'm glad my Aunt and Uncle are in my life, because without them, I would have never met Sara (well, I'm glad for many other reasons, obviously), and without Sara I would never have been able to fill my latest order.

Sara was at Seedy Saturday. She was selling recycled sweater longjohns (coolest thing ever - she did the One of a Kind here in Toronto, and she's got an etsy shop - check out the cute undies - but I really wish she would make more of these!). We started chatting about craft, and then she said these magic words: "so I've used all the arms on all these sweaters, but what am I going to do with the bodies? I have a mountain of wool sweaters at home!" Well...

Seedy Saturday was fantastic (I was there with Not Far From The Tree - that's another post), but underneath was this panic gnawing at me: how was I going to fill an order for three (turned into four later) wool blankets all at the same time? That's a lot of Value Village coasting.

I got up courage and mentioned that I might be able to help, or that she could help me? Later that week she emailed me an invite to come over and there was this amazing picture attached:

So I went over, found out she's a wonderful person, and that it was true: she did indeed have a mountain of wool sweaters. We bartered a bit and voila! (although I still owe her a pie :-)

Now I have a tiny mountain of done blankets.

Thanks Sara!

After the Long Winter...

2009-04-15T19:49:00.006-05:00

Hey! It's really spring! The signs are everywhere; today we finally had warm-even-without-a-jacket weather, chalk drawings adorn our neighbourhood sidewalks, and bluebells are gracing the lawns.

That, and the sidewalk-painting/mud-making fun has begun:

At the end of the day, I sat on our slightly dilapidated front steps with mending on my lap, delivered pizza in my hands, dirt standing in for a front lawn before me with dirty children in it making believe, Mr. S. to lean on, and the warm sun caressing my face.

...and I said to myself, "what a wonderful world"...

Mending Mondays: Patches

2009-04-14T21:46:00.010-05:00

Yes, I know it's Tuesday. I started patching late last night after some other work because our usual Monday morning routine was delightfully topsy turvey due to visiting Granny, so let's get on with it, shall we?

Now, these holes look suspiciously square. As in, cut-out-with-scissors square. Hmmm.....

This one, however, seems to be yelling at me:

Probably because I promised the owner of this particular pair of pants that I'd mend them... a year ago. sigh. I suppose I should work my way through this pile and not try to compost it.

Last April I patched a couple pairs of Safiya's pants, and I learned a lesson. The hard way. Patches are great, but it would be a much better idea to actually fix the hole so that little toes don't get caught in the gaping-ness of the old jeans as they're making their way down while getting dressed. I thought that patches fix holes. They do not. They cover them.

I found this really good tutorial on how to fix holes, which I'm in the middle of trying with these cords. In the tutorial the stitching is left bare, but I'll try adding another patch on top, just to pretty it up.

As for those other little holes in Safiya's clothes, I did some basting tonight while Mr. S. read evening Winnie-the-Pooh stories aloud, so I did get some zen-like mending in anyway, which was nice :-)

night-night!

Changes

2009-04-10T23:30:00.000-05:00

For many years, my brother-in-law Z. lived with us while he was in law school, and included in the many changes that have transformed a lot of the space in our house lately was the re-doing of his old room, or, as we now call it, the "spare room", or, the "kids' room". Not "Safiya's room".

There was no way this was going to be "Safiya's room". Mr. S. and I could care less, but it was interesting to see her reaction when we talked about moving some of her stuff in there.

"But I sleep in our room. (pause) It's o.k. if my toys are in here. (another pause) Will Granny still sleep in here when she comes to visit?....Hmmmmm.....maybe I could try sleeping in here once. But just once. (head nodding up and down with finger pointing for emphasis) Because I sleep in our room."

And that's perfectly fine with us, because just like everything else, she'll make changes in her life, whatever they are, when she's ready to.

Case in point: I've been working hard to finish up an order of wool blankets, and today Mr. S. came to me and said "I have an idea". huh.

His "idea" was that he and Safiya could go ahead today and travel out-of-town to visit family as we had planned this weekend, and I could stay, finish the blanket that I needed to, and join them...tomorrow morning.

This sounds like a normal plan. No problem, right? One small detail. I've never slept away from her. Even when I've been really really ill, the farthest I've been is the next room. Mr. S. has had to endure nights away from Safiya, but not I.

I said, "Um, o.k.?" and that was that. Good thing that I had work to do, because what else was I supposed to do all night? Sleep? Clearly not. Two things:

First, when she called from my father-in-law's house to talk to me before bed, I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried a little. It was her little grown-up voice, and knowing it was coming from that far away.

Second, when there were plans being made today about the trip, when I walked into the kitchen, Safiya turned to me and said, excitedly and very adamantly:

"Mama! We're going on an adventure! And you're not coming!"

Like I said, I'm not worried about her and change...

The Pigeon Meets a New Friend

2009-04-09T20:17:00.007-05:00

I have a feeling that Safiya's memories of me are going to consist mostly of me hovering about taking pictures from odd angles...

That being said, this is a good snapshot of our typical morning table. Books, craft, crepes, cookies...I'd be lying if I said that I don't eat cookies for breakfast. (Someday I'll have to share why they get baked a mere four at a time in our house.) As for the bird, Safiya cut up the wool sweater scraps into tiny pieces to for stuffing, which she proceeded to execute with enthusiasm (not the bird, the stuffing of), after she figured out that making a stuffed animal was a lot like making beanbags (she's helped me with hundreds of those, what with the child labour laws routinely being ignored around here):

And after it was all done, the old pigeon finally met the new pigeon...

I think it looks a little stunned :-) They'll both be travelling with us wherever we go for a while, I'm sure...

That Fierce Love of Making

2009-04-08T22:42:00.011-05:00

I really love this. I love working hard on an order, immersing myself with this soft skin of quiet around me. Maybe that's why I push deadlines sometimes - deep down I know it'll be an excuse for uninterrupted time in the studio. And late-night coffee.

Co-existing with my love of work-time with Safiya is this love, and sometimes I fantasize that I really want to live like I imagine the (male, I guess - is that sexist?) artists of yore: hours in the studio, someone brings you food, the house gets cleaned, you go wandering in the city seeking inspiration, you procreate with abandon because, well, you can, and someone will take care of the children....Of course, there's always the problem of finding patrons and having to live in poverty if you don't, but somehow that doesn't factor into my fantasies :-)

I saw a little of this part of myself in Safiya today, actually. She had planned a project, drawing it out, making a pattern, making a list of things she needed. There's been more of this lately; more long-term planning on her part.

She wanted a companion for her pigeon that we swapped for last year at the Queen West Art Crawl from Fish on Fridays, and I knew that encouraging her in this way would result in the satisfaction of working of a longer project rather than just the pleasure of the end result (i.e. me making it for her).

What happened was that fierceness that arises when you are not to be swayed from your task at hand; she needed neither sustenance nor washroom breaks, apparently. The only way she would come to table was if the project came with her.

I was glad. It sits here, next to my work, waiting for her hands tomorrow. I wouldn't give up being here for that for anything.

In a Nutshell...

2009-04-07T18:00:00.002-05:00

Mr. S: "When Uncle Z. comes to stay over, he's going to work in the morning."

Safiya: "Work?"

Me: "Yep, he doesn't go to school anymore, he goes to work. Some people do that; they go to school and then after that they go to work. Or, some people just work, no school. Or, some people go to school, and then more school. And, some people don't do any of that."

hardly any pause at all, and then enthusiastically, with a large grin:

Safiya: "Yes! Like us!"

Mending Mondays

2009-04-06T23:18:00.011-05:00

Having recently removed the last remnants of Things That Do Not Belong from my studio in the basement back to their rightful places all over the rest of the house (post-bathroom renovation), I was aghast to see that my mending pile had secretly and mysteriously procreated when I wasn't looking. I say "mending pile" as if it's had that allocation my entire life. As if my mother had a Mending Pile to which she tended, and so I too, was destined to have a Mending Pile.

This one got created late last night....corralled might be a more appropriate term. And so, I have instituted Mending Mondays. Today it was buttons. And also, the removal of some embellishment on a thrift store jacket find for Safiya. I get that she's a girl and she likes glitter, but I fail to see the need for a bunch of sequins to be situated at her hip on a jacket as if she's going to toss her hair and wink at me from across the kitchen. She's four.

So, because it takes me ten minutes to eat breakfast and it takes Safiya nearly ten times that, my fingers were kept busy while she ate and drew and we chatted about things that matter to us both, mainly dinosaurs and time machines. Unfortunately, any documentation of my progress did not turn out well, due to the dim light this morning.

Why dim, you ask?

Arg! Snow! or...rain?....Whatever!....Bah!

The bunnies want to go outside and play.....

We made do with crossing the backyard for an impromptu tea party in our currently-being-fixed-up-shed. Just us, tea, and the wood shavings, while it was miserable outside. It was lovely, really....

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

p.s. I think my early morning mending enthusiasm might have stemmed from the Repair Manifesto (found via Swiss Miss) which might get carved into our fridge, I like it so much ;-)

A Different Kind of Investment

2009-04-05T20:14:00.010-05:00

Sometimes, when I sit down to write, the screen stares back at me and says, "Yes, but that's not what you're really thinking about, so let's cut the crap, shall we?" And then my fingers lift off the keyboard and I go and pour anxious energy into something else. It's been like that for a while because Mr. S. and I had a rather large decision to make. Not a negative one. One that we had the opportunity to make from a position of privilege and opportunity, for which I am grateful.

We are not selling our house.

There, I said it. Our lives were headed one way, and then in the middle of yet another discussion I realised: we could move, which would be the fiscally responsible decision (my vote) or we could stay and tough it out, and I would have a partner with a little bit more peace in his heart (arg! also my vote). The two, it seems, were mutually exclusive. That's not to say that Mr. S. wouldn't have gamely gone along, it's just that......

The problem, you see, is that Mr. S. trusts me. I am very fond of telling the story of how we (read me) put an offer on this house, sight unseen by Mr. S. You see? It's problematic, that amount of trust. It comes back not to bite you, but to nuzzle you with big hazel puppy dog eyes, and then what am I supposed to do? Good thing I think Mr. S. is cuter than our realtor ;-)

So for the past month and a bit there was tearing down and organising and making things presentable in Order to Sell, and now there's building up and reorganising and deep breathing because now it's really ours, because we have Made a Decision.

Whew.

How To Feel Like a Homeschooler....

2009-03-06T23:07:00.011-05:00

Stop at a patisserie for mid-morning sustenance. Bring lino-cutting equipment along for making stamps out of rubber erasers. People ask: why isn't she in school? Mention homeschooling. Smile when girl behind counter comments, "Well, then, I guess that means you get to stop for treats whenever you want!" Why yes, yes it does....

Meet up with (preferably equally crazy) friends to go letterboxing. Walk along a frozen Lake Ontario beach on a blustery February day following clues for said letterboxing.

Have great adventure following clues. Rejoice with frozen tears of joy upon finding sought after spot. Have small children laugh at you while you try to retrieve small box from rock crevasse by gamely wedging your body down into a tree, head-first.

Curse rock crevasse.

Curse missing box.

Realise that there's not too much disappointment in the air because 1) kids really do like the hunt, and 2) kids are frozen.

Retreat to restaurant (after a gasping-from-the-wind walk back around a small bay, a far-too-quick run for a bus, and another short-but-seems-long walk, fixing scarves and hoods and mittens continuously en route) and reward wonderful children with waffles, french fries, and icecream.

Watch children create weird maple-syrup/water/apple juice/ketchup/pepper/vinegar/salt/sugar concoction.

Laugh with friend. Wait for warmer weather.

The Shop Is On Vacation

2009-02-27T13:00:00.001-05:00

I'm closing up my etsy drawers until April. There are a few craft shows coming up on the radar, which I'll announce on the sidebar here. If you're in Toronto, come on by and say hi!

peace

marnie

February Love

2009-02-27T00:05:00.009-05:00

I love February. It's when the sun comes back into the house. November/December/January are gone, melted away in their darkness, and February arrives; still a little chill, a little coy, but leaving you with sun-warmed hair on a bright still day.

The true passing of the year is marked like that: the first musty smell of dried dead leaves in the fall, the first day that the sun leaves the back of your jacket between your shoulderblades warm, the first new earth smell of spring, and that day in August when it's so humid that the crooks of your elbows stick.

That's too far right now.

Now. Now I need to bring things back, closer to home. For more days like these:

There's a lot going on these days. Most of it very good, some of it everyday-worrisome. But home has been on my mind a lot lately. It's been February for a while, and for me that means the beginnings of my new year. Time to re-assess and re-imagine. We'll see what happens....

This is Supposed to Be Good For Me, But it Probably Won't Happen Again

2009-02-11T21:17:00.013-05:00

Mr. S. likes to say that I think too much.

Sarah recently had a lovely post about potential; about that moment when your brain flexes and you start the process of nudging your limits around. She referenced a couple of other bloggers who had recently written about keeping it real, and now there's an In Real Life Flikr group. Right now I'm trying to keep my brain from going off in all directions like an exploding puffball of bunny tails, but here goes.

I don't do keeping it real. Not here, not in real life. Editing is my coping mechanism. Managing is the sweet music of my bedtime story. Mr. S. is probably afraid I'm going to manage him to the ground ;-) This seems to be in direct conflict with keeping it real. How to appreciate the beauty of the everyday when you'd really rather be vacuuming some of it up? I like a clean house. That doesn't mean it always happens. That doesn't mean I always care. It does mean that I try. I really do.

There are so many voices out there. Some of them shout, some of them whisper, but they are still other people's voices.

"The unexamined life is not worth living!"
"The unlived life is not worth examining!"
"Relax, let go, live in the moment!"
"Be wise, plan!"
"Be real!"
"Clean your room!"

ha!

As I read Safiya The Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs for the hundred-thousandth-umpteenth time this evening, me with a bowl of not-fair-trade-not-organic pineapple in my lap (a most welcome gesture from Mr. S. the other day) and she with Sugar Snaps (!) in hers (a gesture from my father-in-law) finally a quiet, most welcome, voice came into my head that said to me calmly, "it's my life. all other voices can be taken under advisement, but it's my life."

What does my voice say?

i live with others who i love. i hum a little, dance once in a while, make a lot of food, clean, do some other stuff, try to pay attention, and in the end there is that pure aloneness which could be oneness, and that's why "it's my life" matters. just as i am. and my choices are my own.

My voice also says that homemade peanut butter cups are worth examining.

'Cause life with homemade peanut butter cups is worth living.

Now excuse me while I go clean....

Preparing to Love and Rummage

2009-02-01T15:02:00.008-05:00

Did you know that I have precisely twenty-seven vintage aprons? What is that? A flock? A pride? A.....parliament of aprons? (Oh yes, definitely the last one ;-)

These ladies are taking over, so I will accompany some of them to the Love & Rummage Trunk Show in a week so that they can find new homes. Also finding new homes will be packages of fat quarters,

some of my usual wares, and a small project that I've been working on......

hee hee! Please come by and spread the love!

And in that spirit, of the money that changes hands between us that day, I will donate 10% to help make the weekly community lunch in our neighbourhood (the P.L.O.T. lunch coordinated by Shoelace Collective) a little more sweet for Valentine's.

See you next Sunday!

Tonight I Hunger

2009-01-29T23:52:00.012-05:00

Tonight I look at this picture and think that there could be nothing more exquisite than that beetle. It lives, along with myriad upon myriad of other fascinating things, in something called the Tree of Life Web Project.

Except that of course, it doesn't. So far tonight I've watched a couple of short clips; a swan eating grass, a malaria sporozoite inside a human liver cell... As I watched that swan eat and move there was a familiar ache in my heart that is rooted in my now normalised disconnection from nature. "Really? So that's how a swan moves?" I'd forgotten.

The website is amazing, and I am grateful for people doing that kind of work so that I can have the opportunity to immerse myself in it, and I look forward to sharing it with Safiya tomorrow. But it is bittersweet, isn't it? Because the beetle isn't really there.

Safiya asked the other day if reptiles have belly buttons. We've talked about it together, she's had some hypotheses (including umbilical cords with pointy ends to get through the shell to the embryo), she's talked about it with someone else (who is an obstetrician), and we've mentioned getting books out from the library or looking it up on the web.

Just now it occurred to me how ridiculous and sad it is that my first thought was not:

"Why don't we check out a couple of reptiles?"

Lengthening Long Johns: Yet Another Use for Sweater Sleeves

2009-01-21T14:07:00.014-05:00

Safiya is growing tall like a lovely weed, so her ankles are poking out the bottom of her long johns like, well, legs poking out the bottom of too-short long johns. They fit her otherwise, so enter the old sweater sleeves, once again! This took about ten minutes.

1. Fold up the cuff of the long johns:

2. Pick a sweater that has been felted only a little, or not at all, so that there's some give, and make sure that the sweater sleeve cuff will be the right size to be comfy around the ankles. Cut the sleeves however long you need. Slip over the turned-up long johns, with the cut edge of the sweater matching the end of the cuff. Match the seams and pin, evenly gathering and pinning any extra fabric:

3. Sew about a 1/4" seam. I used a straight stitch, loose-ish tension, and a walking foot, which is perfect for knits. (Sorry about the blurry picture!) Notice the direction of the pins now; you kind of have to flip the leg around and make sure that you don't sew the leg shut! :-)

4. Obviously the cuff edge is finished and the sweater sleeve edge is not. I didn't zig-zag finish the seam, though, just in case I someday want to remove the cuff...you know, just in case there's anymore kids around here....someday, maybe..... It should hold up because we wash woolens gently. So there you have it:

A longer leg!

If she keeps growing this fast she'll have rainbow coloured long john legs soon!
:-)

Touchstones

2009-01-13T16:02:00.007-05:00

Other than anecdotes and a shout-out here and there, I rarely talk about my friends. I don't really ever discuss friends with other friends, because I'm painfully aware that I could represent them wrongly, or unfairly, and that would be disloyal. Or only flatteringly and gushing, which would be unfair and disloyal as well, I suppose, because no true friend wants to exist in only one dimension. There is a seeming ease, a swimmingness that others have in their friendships that I think I lack, genetically speaking :-) It's not for want of sentiment or spirit or feelings, it's just that I'm perhaps a little odd (anyone who knows me can keep what their thinking to themselves right now.....) and a lot of the times that makes for an awkward fit.

Sometimes I luck out. I have a twin friend (we know this because our husbands have the same birthday...what more evidence could you want? That, and she wants to buy bulk flour with me, which I think a big step in our relationship.....) This is comforting, because now I know that I'm not alone in the weird universe. She is very important to me. There are many knowing glances in the time we spend together, and living is effortless with her. If we ever move, our proximity to their family will be a concern.

There are old friends, you know, the good ones; the ones who you haven't talked to for forever, or they've moved across the country (or world!), and yet when you connect again it's as if no time has passed (which reminds me, I need to make a phone call or two...) Or, they're the friends who always call when you're sick, or who call for no other reason than to tell you a really bad joke (and you laugh).

There are family friends. People who were as accursed or as lucky as you to be born or marry into the same family and who know what's going on and what the threads are and who don't need a whole lot of explanation, who can read between the bloglines, and who will always be there, because they just refuse to go away :-)

Then there are friends who are in flux - the ones that you've experienced major things with - it changes your relationship, makes you tentative again, and it feels like the relationship is metamorphosing, waiting.....

Other friends you meet because you're on the same path; the family strings are vibrating at the same frequency and there's someone there who quickly understands when you need help, that it's o.k. to ask you for help, who can laugh with familiarity at the ridiculous things your four-year-old says, and share in the bounty and the crap that life throws at you.

Obviously delineating people into categories is artificial; many of my friends cross boundaries, dip in and out of the pools I've just described, many are un-categorizable. All are important. But it does let me lead you to this last bit; new friends.

Most of the people I meet now meet Safiya and I together. There are very few instances when we are apart. It's a package deal, which is great, because "like me, like my kid". It's true. I certainly wouldn't hold it against anyone if they're uncomfortable around children, that would be extremely unfair, but practically speaking it makes it very unlikely that we'd be able to spend any amount of time together.

Even within the Toronto craft world, once in a while I'll show up at a show without Safiya and then, as my friend Katharine said, it's feels like I'm walking around giving people an incomplete picture, like I should have a sign stuck on my forehead that says "I'm really Safiya's Mama...." Granted, she has three kids, so her sign would have much more impact than mine (and be larger, so, more silly :-) but still.....

Oh yes, that last category of friends....

New friends. People who, by their presence, allow room for trying something you might not have before. Now, some of these may come to fruition, and some may remain acquaintances, which is the way it goes, but in the beginning they are all people who you witness taking much-appreciated chances about friendship, and for whom you're willing to be just a little bit vulnerable. Who you unwittingly test.....are they wildly talented and encouraging? Do they have a fabric stash or some other appropriate obsession like picking fruit in the middle of the city? Do they like Scrabble? Do you wish you could meet them in real life, not just in blog-land? (and there's lots of you!) Are they just enough weird? What are the important people in their life like? Will they go out of their way for some really lovely chocolate? Is there laughter in their life? Everyone has their own list. (My list is very long, and not everyone I know has a blog-link, but I'm thinking of you ;-)

Do they get down on the floor and paint collaborative pictures of dinosaurs with your four-year-old?

If the answer to any of these is "yes", then I may have lucked out :-)

Like MacGyver, Except with Felt

2009-01-11T22:31:00.006-05:00

We're on our hurried way to visit friends. Mr. S. is packing the bag, Safiya is running away from her jacket, and I.....drop my cherished new glass belt buckle from nanotopia onto the ceramic floor.....

There are no other belts. I need a belt. No time to change. Quick, what to do, what to do? Ah ha! Time enough for a quick seam, a quick....

....belt cozy.

Oh yes, MacGyver has nothing on me and felt, baby.

Time Again

2009-01-09T15:35:00.000-05:00

You can stop time. There's a button for that.

Someone asked me recently when I write. When I haven't taken an unintentional blogging break, these days I write in the evening, mostly. Right now it's 3:36pm and Safiya is playing with a friend and there are a million other things to be done, but I'm here. Not making dinner, not un-decorating the solstice tree, not making things for the "Love and Rummage" trunk show coming up. Not sorting out rotten apples.

Here.

Here is a good place. It used to be that here was when time really did stop. I started writing back when Safiya still napped. Because as every parent knows, when you have but one child, naps are "free time". There are no obligations during naps. I could have sat on my behind and scratched every once in a while. Naps are catch-up. Those lovely liquid golden light afternoons when the house was quiet and with a sigh you sank into the couch, feet up, and closed your eyes briefly, drinking it in....

Maybe I romanticise a bit. Obviously, Safiya doesn't nap anymore, and hasn't for a while. So the words come at night, or in the middle of the afternoon, or while she watches the Zaboomafoo DVD from the library for the umpteenth time. But they still come. Sometimes they don't come for a while. I find it amazing that other blogs are so reliable. It's an admirable quality and one that, as a parent, mystifies me. She doesn't nap anymore. Our worlds change. Our timing changes. Our needs change. Here will change.

I suppose that's because here is personal. I like being here. In fact sometimes, when a post is done and it feels good, I'm not ashamed to say that I'll go back and re-read it. More than once. I'll go back an hour later and read it again. Maybe out loud. And even better, I get to converse with you out there to boot.

But part of it is, as they say, making time.

Part of getting older is learning how to make time stop. Or how to let it slide right around you. How to catch it in your hand when needed.

Time as partner, not adversary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Addendum: It is now 10:20 on Sunday night and I've finally finished this post. We've had a full day of cleaning, a friend's birthday party, and family to visit in the evening. As of today, the apples are sorted, the tree is un-solsticed, and the laundry has been caught up on. In fact, the dishes are done (thanks to Mr. S.) and there's even an apple cake in the fridge.

So it changes, so it goes......

Let's Start the Year with Crepes

2009-01-05T09:14:00.014-05:00

Happy fifth day of the New Year! To start off the year right, I want to thank everyone who sent warm wishes through here recently; each of those was a wonderful gift, and I'm so fortunate to be surrounded by you lovely people.

Now, to dive right in. There is a reason why the empty plate in the mundane scene above is important. I ate a stack of crepes. And then I called Mr. S. at work to tell him that I'd eaten a stack of crepes.

Mr. S. is now used to me randomly calling him at work with news like this. That's because this past fall I'd finally figured out why I've had almost daily stomachaches since my early teens. Stomachaches sometimes so severe that when Mr. S. and I were first together he would insist that I needed to go the hospital and I would insist that I was fine and that it happened all the time and it was no big deal.

I've got celiac disease. (We're still testing, but it's pretty sure.) I haven't said anything about it here yet because I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to talk about the crying in the kitchen, the confidence shattered (if I can make vegan Mennonite food, I can bake anything, right?), the frustration over all the work done to eat local, over the fact that there is no way that rice is local to Toronto, and the throwing of the stupid cookbooks with their serious recommendations that I shouldn't try baking until at least 6 months after stopping eating gluten so that I wouldn't remember what bread really tastes like.

After the success with crepes this morning, I was ready, and more importantly, I felt moved to say something, just in case there's someone else out there throwing cookbooks and eating only naked salads at restaurants (gluten is in f-in' everything). In case there's just one other vegan-gluten intolerant-locavore out there, just to say that it will be o.k. (Bear with me here while I sound like a bad 80's self-help book....)

It will be o.k. mostly because of amazing people like Karina at Gluten-Free-Goddess. (Thank the heavens for the internet.) It will be o.k. because buckwheat, chickpea flour, and corn are local, and because quinoa and amaranth someday could be. It will be o.k. because right now rice is my medicine, and I'm pretty sure no-one's advocating local medicine (thank goodness!) And, very importantly, it will be o.k. because Pizza Pizza has a gluten free crust.

I was always so tired, fuzzy-headed, and worse, always always fighting that ball of irritability in my core. I had cramps, stomachaches, and Mr. S.'s favourite, gas that would gas a skunk out of an outhouse :-) For the first, oh, 16 days after starting to not eat gluten, I would call Mr. S. at work: "Guess what?" What? "I don't have a stomachache today!" and I'd gleefully hang up.

So, to finally share the celebration, here's the crepe recipe, adapted from Veganomicon (which is kind of ironic, because it was the hours of agony back in July after the chickpea cutlets, made from vital wheat gluten, that tipped me off):

the amazing incredible gluten free vegan buckwheat crepes

1 1/2 cups soy or rice milk
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1/4 cup gluten-free flour (I keep a homemade blend of 1/2 brown rice flour, then arrowroot/sorghum/tapioca/quinoa flour to make up the other half - you generally need some starch and some protein when making a blend)
1/4 cup chickpea flour
1 Tablespoon arrowroot flour
1/2 teaspoon salt

Combine everything, whisk/beat until smooth. Pour into an airtight container (I use a large jar for easy pouring) and let sit in the fridge, preferably overnight. When ready to cook the crepes, stir briefly (or shake the jar) if ingredients have separated.

This batter will be more viscous than usual wheat based batter. They say that when making crepes, the first crepe or two must be sacrificed, but we have a trick that works well (on our well-seasoned cast iron pan, anyway). When the pan is nice and hot (medium to medium-high heat, depending on your stove - a sprinkle of water should dance), add a little oil (a teaspoon) and coat the pan using a pastry brush. The bristles get sacrificed a bit, but the crepes will never stick and seem to always cook evenly, even on the first go.

Pour 1/4 to 1/3 cup in the pan, swirl around, then cook until there are bubbles showing and the top is mostly dry - the edges should be starting to lift. Flip, cook a little more, and voila! Perfect crepes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

And for a good laugh (mixed with a few tears) for all you proud food freaks out there (of any ilk), I just found this list. Enjoy, and happy eating!

Process and Pleasure

2008-12-12T19:14:00.000-05:00

Pleasure can mean letting go...forgetting and focusing...existing in that liquid, effortless bit of time where judgments and qualifiers slide off you and it feels like it's forever and nothing all at once.

All of that to describe an afternoon of potato stamps.

I hadn't done potato stamps since I was a kid, and it was Safiya's first try. We decided to make cards, and her suggestion was for us each to pick an animal and a colour and then people "would know who the card was from."

The T-Rex gave me confidence.

Soon it will be solstice...preparations are being made...

A Long Week for a Little Person

2008-12-05T20:45:00.014-05:00

You know it's been a long week when you think it's perfectly reasonable to try on a pair of but-they-have-such-a-nice-sheen gold pants at the thrift store. You look at the mirror thinking, "I could wear a long sweater over them." Then you ruefully realise that no sweater, no matter how long, would be able to hide the expression on your face that comes with the knowledge that you are wilfully walking around on gold-encased sausage legs.

Instead I came home with this:

Seemed appropriate, and all three of us had a riot this evening, especially when it degenerated into the four-year-old version.

Safiya had had an infection this week, one that landed her in the hospital for IV antibiotics, so it was good to see her giddy and energetic and just silly. She slid into this sickness over the course of a week-and-a-half (which culminated in four days of high fever), so it wasn't until the antibiotics kicked in this past Wednesday morning that I realised just how un-Safiya-like her behaviour had been for the last little while. Poor honey.

She had the IV not because it was an advanced infection, but because it was a weird bacteria that had got into her urine. So, a UTI ("not uncommon in little girls", the doctors kept saying...and I'm sure that, when she's older, Safiya will really appreciate me writing about this....) But to me, I mean, isn't that one of your primary jobs as a parent? To make sure that poo stays away from everything? sigh.

She was awesome. Mr. S. was at attention, doting, and, as he will readily admit, a wreck (and I love him even more for it). I discovered that I am not a craft-in-moments-of-stress kind of person. I do not sit there and knit. I sit and watch. So I'll be pretty much useless in any craft emergency. I'll just sit there and watch all of you work away.

And I've also discovered that "saint" is actually an everyday kind of word. It is not reserved only for those who, with great courage and determination, rise to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. It's not so much the circumstances, it's the action that counts. Does that make sense? They are those who call because they're concerned, who don't bat an eye when you have to reneg on a commitment, who relay the awesome gifts their kids have made for their friend who is hurting:

and who bring to the hospital their welcome company and (as if it's a normal thing to do) ridiculous things like sushi dinner, homemade cinnamon buns, and this:

You know who you are.

Thanks.

More Keepin' Warm

2008-11-27T13:26:00.010-05:00

This is what happens when you've been boiling cherrystones for an hour or two.

It was a warm and sunny summer day when the farmer handed me the cherry pits I had requested with a wry "Well, I'm never doing that again." :-) I hadn't asked for them dried, just saved, but she'd gone to the trouble of kind of cleaning them and then laying them out in the sun to dry. Unfortunately all her trouble meant that I this past weekend I had to rehydrate them to get more of the gucky stuff off for them to be usable. I think I'll be brave and very nicely ask her again next year, but suggest that she just keep them in the freezer instead!

Why? I can hear you saying "but why?" (well, I can hear Mr. S., anyway ;-)

When you're playing chicken with the furnace, it's good to have a secret weapon, I think. In The Seven Year Itch, Marilyn Monroe kept her panties in the freezer to beat the heat. Well, I'm going to keep this pillow in the oven to beat the cold! Maybe not as sexy, but certainly as practical!

Here are the instructions for making a cherrystone bedwarmer, you know, in case you have that many cherry pits lying around. I boiled and rinsed mine twice and then added some more cold water rinses at the end just to get as much cherry off as I could - I'm sure it's easier with freshly pitted stones. Then they dried off in the oven at very low heat for a couple of hours. Made a little cotton pillow, filled it, sewed it up well, made a cover for it, and ta-da! guaranteed warmth.

We don't have a microwave, so I'll just pop it in a low heat oven for a while (it's covered in a felted wool cozy, and wool is very flame resistant) and that should keep our toes toasty when we dash under the chilly blankets at bedtime.

Someone's toes are already trying to snuggle in!

A Golden International Breakfast

2008-11-24T01:03:00.010-05:00

French toast, Turkish coffee, and Indian chickpea flour "crepes" with ginger, garlic and fennel seed potato filling - that is the perfect Saturday morning breakfast. And, don't forget the last of the homemade mango chutney so gratefully received from my friend Kat.

The French toast was mainly for Safiya and Mr. S.; it's a Saturday morning ritual. The rest was my indulgence - I've been playing around with a lot of different grains lately (and some not even grains!), making bread-like stuff. The chickpea flour crepes are to die for; savoury, silky on top and lightly crisp on the bottom, and you don't even have to flip them! I'm hoping to venture into bean-based flatbread territory soon, using one of my favourite cookbooks, Madhur Jaffrey's World of the East Vegetarian Coooking.

Some plain leftover potatoes were transformed into a better version of homefries ;-) using one of my favourite recipes, sookhe aloo ("dry" potatoes with ginger and garlic), from Jaffrey's Indian Cooking, and voila, a golden warming breakfast on a chilly almost-winter day. They're so good (we find the fennel seeds essential and put extra in, and will also substitute anise seeds if there is a we-have-no-fennel-seeds emergency), that I'm trying to share the recipe here; if you can make it out, it's worth it!

For breakfast, lunch, or dinner.... :-)

Note: thank you, Google! Here's the (almost-identical) recipe for the potatoes. And here's the chickpea-flour pancakes (although in Jaffrey's cookbook there is much sprinkling of oil around and on top on the pancakes after they're poured :-) Enjoy!

Playing Chicken With The Heating, Part the Second

2008-11-17T18:35:00.012-05:00

The reason I don't make clothes for myself (so she says) is that it's impossible for me to take flattering self-portraits. So here I am, with my woolly socks and mid-morning-even-though-it's-after-lunch hair, but still inordinately pleased that these are done. When playing chicken with the heating (I signed us up for Crunchy Chicken's "Freeze Yer Buns Challenge 2008" challenge, just for fun :-), one requires more than flimsy cotton pyjamas in the evening....and morning....and afternoon....

Everybody has been raving about Amy Butler's Lounge Pants, and since I like lounging as much as the next person, I figured this was a good start to making-myself-real-clothes-from-real-patterns. And I have to say:

I love these pants. They are comfortable, roomy, lounge-y, but not slouchy. I will not be ashamed to take the garbage out or check the mail in these. And this pair is warm.

Given my penchant for wool and my dislike for being cold, I had a dream: woollen pyjama pants...lined with silk. Both wool and silk have wonderful insulating properties. With some wool from my Mom's old stash (had to piece it together a bit to make enough length) and just enough leftover silk from when she very generously made my dream curtains for our first house, I made them in about a weekend and a little bit here and there. Voila! the perfect pair of pyjama pants. I hadn't made pants before, never mind lined anything, so that's a testament to the clarity of the pattern.

It's a bit like walking around in a cocoon. I love it when utilitarian meets decadence and then they make love...and have a woollen pyjama pants wearing baby :-)

Speaking of curtains and babies:

The original curtains, and one very cute and beautifully chubby seven-month-old Safiya. Why? Because I can. Kind of like the pants :-)

Playing Chicken With The Heat, Part the First

2008-11-07T08:52:00.009-05:00

Simple leggings for a fall day:

Take one felted wool sweater (one that still has some give) and cut the arms off past the shoulder seams (be generous in the length, and choose a sweater that you guess will fit the child in question). Then, after a couple of wriggly fittings, sew together to create a middle seam. With the top folded in once to make the casing for the elastic, these are easy-peasy, and if you are not interrupted a gazillion times, probably sewable in precisely two minutes. O.k., so I exaggerate, but it is really easy.

I put a dot on to mark the back:

See, it really was made out of just the two arms!

A bunch of these are on the drawing board because we're playing chicken with the heat, so long underwear will be a necessity around here (this November heat wave has been so lovely), and because the wonderful wool long underwear that we bought for Safiya two winters back are starting to wear.

Actually, to be fair, the pure wool long underwear has not started to wear; it's a bit short, but still going strong. We had also got her a pair in a lighter silk/wool blend, and those are the ones that I'm going to have to darn. These woollies were worth their weight in gold (I should mention that I'm not associated in any way to Nova Natural), and we got them before my new-found-ish let's-clothe-the-child-in-cast-off-sweaters bravery started. Frankly, since the proper $7 second-hand sweater will now provide us with not only leggings but mittens and a scarf from the body (or a hood.....or a tea cozy....), I wouldn't spend that amount on long underwear these days, but if you don't want to sew your own, we found the ones we got to be really really useful, well-fitted and warm, and all kinds of nice.

Oh, and if you want a proper tutorial, I saw that Green Kitchen has a nice sweater-pants tutorial that is very clear. It's in a similar vein to the pants pattern that I used for Safiya's pants.

Clearly my sewing methods are not proper, and it's highly probable that the next pair of leggings that I make for Safiya will not resemble these ones in the least :-)

Something Like a Miracle

2008-11-04T09:37:00.007-05:00

Yesterday was a day of puttering around the yard, cleaning up, and exploring corners that have gone neglected for a while. Being a very novice gardener with a lot of knowledge stored away in my brain, but little experience is a disastrous combination. For example, I'd love to just skip right to growing fields of quinoa if I had the space. :-)

And I forget about things. Usually the outcome is not good. However, this year I noticed some rather tall pretty yellow flowers that had sprouted up (from nowhere?) and then remembered that Safiya had planted some sunroots (Jerusalem Artichokes/sunchokes) left over from groceries earlier in the year.

Pulling them up was a momentous event. Such pretty things! After relocating our friend the worm, Safiya plucked, washed, smelled, cradled, and nibbled them and then insisted we eat them for dinner. One was elected to go into the curried butternut squash soup, and the rest were sliced and fried. yum.

From one little root to many, feeding many. Nature is something like a miracle.

A Dinosaur Goes To Brunch

2008-11-02T13:37:00.001-05:00

We have a rather large addition to our house, courtesy of my Father-in-Law. I think Safiya is in love.

Zen and Sewing

2008-10-25T14:04:00.007-05:00

The child had one pair of pants. One. From amongst a pile of too-short, too-tattered relics of the past year emerged the last remaining pair of jeans, still sturdy to the world. This is a challenge, right? I could pop over to Value Village and pick up a $5.99 pair of perfectly serviceable jeans for her, or I could go down to the basement and try out How to make easy kids' pants, which I'd been itching to do for, oh, over a year ;-) Besides, I had the perfect fabric in mind: a soft light blue baby corduroy that I'd been saving for something nice. There would be just enough for a pair of pants.

At the same time as I was getting all adventurous and taking apart an old, nice-fitting pair of Safiya's pants to trace a pattern from (never done that with pants before, so was kind of nervous, but it worked out well), I was also having an argument.

It doesn't matter with who, especially because the person wasn't there. I was not paying attention, just indulging, and what I wish I could say or should have said came pouring out in a fantasy (one-sided) conversation where everything got resolved, and where anger and hurt feelings had free reign. Oh, and of course, where I was right, and vindicated, and all that good stuff ;-)

Now, I hear you saying, how can you do that and sew at the same time?

And of course, the answer is that I can't. I cut the pants out completely backwards and the fabric was not salvageable. Which forced a big sigh, a kick in the brain-pants for me, and a refocus on the project at hand. Ugh. Those thoughts, those arguments, while they seem satisfying in the moment, are ultimately so deceptive and unproductive.

Hands with scissors, on the other hand (ha!), can be quite productive:

I'm discovering that it is very difficult to get a four-year-old to stay still! Especially when fitting things....oh, I take back all that wriggling I did to my Mom when she made me clothes years ago....arg!

The back-up pair did turn out just fine, and I highly recommend this method of making pants; once you get going, you could probably make a pair of pants start to finish in 30 minutes-ish.

I do not, however, recommend sewing angry...imagine what all our clothes would look like!

Season of Change

2008-10-21T17:55:00.011-05:00

It snowed today. After such a warm October, I find this reassuring. The leaves in the picture above now pad our walks, and the air has changed from that sun-warming-leaf-pile smell to that air with the edge to it, just a little too bracing for the unready under an overcast sky.

There have been other changes here, too. Other additions; and no, I have not been nourishing a secret pregnancy :-) A friend of Safiya's comes over after her school to hang out most days in the week, an arrangement with many benefits for all involved. I like a house with extra people, and my friend needed help, so things fell into place and now there's another personality thrown into the mix with some regularity around here, as well as some regular income on my part.

So now there are two cups of hot chocolate in the wagon in the afternoon. They are both only children, and it's been very interesting to watch them hash things out. At first there were territorial disputes to be presided over ;-)

However, I'm a "smoother-over-er" by instinct, which is not always a good thing; I get in the way. Frankly now it seems best if I step back and keep an eye just with my ears. The lovely thing is to hear them pretending and making up stories and talking about their respective imaginary friends, and giggling at eachother's silliness.

This wanting everything to be smooth for her is a desperate longing that I think all parents have, but in reality Safiya blossoms in her own decisions, her own fights, her own muddiness.

It's hard, but it's easier to remember when I think of how much fun mud is :-)

All Dinosaurs, All the Time

2008-10-06T23:49:00.003-05:00

When we started talking about Hallowe'en, Safiya very promptly informed me that she wanted to be a "T-Rex dressed as a fairy", which might be the best costume idea ever. And then she looked up at me with those earnest, elf-green eyes and said "You can sew that, right Mama?"

All I have to say is, thank goodness for thrift stores...

A Project That Will Grow...

2008-09-29T20:11:00.006-05:00

Ooooo, I've been sitting on this one for a while :-) Now that there's an official introduction out there, I finally get to show my excitement here! I just wanted to make sure that it was really going to happen, and not let anyone down, including myself ;-)

There are a couple of intersecting spheres of activity and ideas here, so I'll do an old-fashioned narrative to straighten things out. Sit down, grab a coffee.

It started with a walk. Good things often do. Late last summer, that is, in 2007, on the way home from a visit to the park, my friend Katharine, the kids and I stopped to talk to a lady who had a very nice pear tree in her front yard. Not an astounding pear tree, but a very nice, abundant pear tree. We complimented (and by that I mean envied) her tree, she said that the landlord used to pick it but no longer did, and that maybe someone she knew was going to come by and pick it, but if not the pears would fall and. would. go. to. waste.

Arg! The Mennonite part of my heart contracted in pain at the thought of that food going to waste, and more and more I started to notice bags of apples and pears being brought to the curb on Tuesday mornings (garbage day) when Safiya and I would be walking to the East York farmers market to buy...apples and pears.

Surely someone could use these? A couple of years ago I had read about Fallen Fruit, an urban fruit foraging group in L.A. There had to be someone in Toronto doing this. At that time, and by this time it was winter, I couldn't find anyone. In spring I fell in with this wonderful group called the Shoelace Collective, a group dedicated to alleviating the symptoms of poverty in our neighbourhood. Practical stuff, like community lunches and dinners, a workers' referral system, and working with the food bank.

Went to a meeting, brought up the idea of a residential fruit harvest; something walkable/bikeable. Where we could share the harvest with our neighbours, with an emphasis on preserving the harvest so that we could use it for dinners or donate it to the food bank or have a bazaar and sell it or give it away...the list of ideas got big fast :-)

A late summer meeting saw us ready to go, with a name and kind of a plan. I'm really a "huh, I have feet and hands, you have a fruit tree, I know of a kitchen. Maybe people will join in. And...done." kind of gal. So, with a neighbourhood newsletter in the works, we were waiting to go and then I got a very interesting email from someone at Shoelace after the meeting about....duh duh duhnnnn:

not far from the tree

I emailed Laura, the (phenomenal) project coordinator, right away, hoping to talk to her about some tips for us, since clearly they had their act together :-) They looked to be about a year ahead of us in planning and experience. Perfect. She said, let's talk. We met in a coffee shop. The gleam in our eyes was the same kind of gleam, and Laura took a very large chance. And the rest is history, or actually, just the beginning.

We will be the Woodbine Heights Hub of not far from the tree. As each neighbourhood is unique, we retain a similar, but slightly different mandate (ward 21 donates fresh fruit, we'll have an emphasis on preserving) and our own not-for-profit affiliations (Shoelace, in our case), but are under the beautiful, caring, inspired umbrella of not far from the tree.

And I have to say, it gave me goose-bumps when I sat in that first meeting with Laura and we shared the vision of the entire City of Toronto covered; linked, with these hubs. "Can you imagine?" we kept saying...

But as for now, now it's just me and my neighbourhood. 'Cause that's where food security starts. And everything starts with food security.

peace and sweet, fruitful dreams to you, my friends...

Not Dead Yet...

2008-09-24T15:19:00.007-05:00

This probably should have been a beginning of the summer project, but better late than never! Safiya cut out bags from fabric scraps for her stuffed animals while I, sniffling away and ignoring dishes, attended to this:

My Mom hates this bag. Seriously. "Loathes" would be more appropriate. She calls it "that ratty thing", as in "you're not going to take that ratty thing with you, are you?" Ha! Then there was a point at which even I had to admit that it was really ratty. It delighted me to give it a good wash, cut off the top, re-sew the drawstring and voila! casually flaunt it to my Mom the next time we went out. Daughters are supposed to irritate our mothers. It keeps them on their toes. :-)

Alas, the beloved bag wore out again quickly, and since repairing it again would render it too small to be serviceable...I can see my Mom raising her eyebrows in anticipation, glee about to escape her lips. Not so fast, Mom...

Assorted market bags, ready to go, their logos replaced by some pretty scraps, including that one in the back there...

:-)

Catching Up

2008-09-23T20:33:00.007-05:00

This has been the view of our front stair for the past week. Safiya's offerings, her decorations, her busy-ness, there for the mail-lady, the neighbourhood kids, friends, and me and Mr. S. to step over in our comings and goings. A reminder of the other things that are important in daily life. Physically making us shift our focus.

It's been a good week, and a busy one. I was proud to pass two custom quilts into the hands of my friend-in-craft Leah. Making things for fellow crafters is nerve-wracking and, I think, could be ultimately unsatisfying because there's that part of me that decides "you could have done even better". I don't like that part of me very much anymore, and I don't let her talk very often these days, but she's sneaky and will slip me a mickey when I'm not being vigilant. I have yet to find the antidote, but I'm getting pretty good at bowing my head and forging on as I get older.

The quilts were a lot of fun to do, and I'm finishing up another one for a neighbour's daughter who has been patiently waiting for her special blanket. There aren't any craft shows on the forseeable horizon, so I've got a breather and can catch up on promised projects and things for the house. And indulge in some stocking up of, well, stock:

Along with the fishing sets I've got a whole stack of hoodies to finish...at my leisure ;-) Not sure if that's good business sense, but Mama's got a cold and is just going to poke along for a couple of days.

Poking along today I made some veggie borscht with this:

That, my friends, is part of why I disappeared for a while there in August. My friend-in-insane-ideas Katharine and I, with the help of our unwitting husbands and children, put up over 100 litres of various incarnations of tomatoes. By the end of the two day saga, we were tired, happy, very proud, satisfied, and very tomato-y. Working beside a friend is one of the joys in life, and in this case produced some very yummy results, as the borscht will attest.

There has been other good work going on around here, a project about which I am very excited. It has to do with these:

It is fruitful work, and I'll be ready to tell you about it soon! :-) Now off to bed I go, with some sweet dreams, I hope, in tow...

A Fine September Day

2008-09-16T22:36:00.007-05:00

I love this time of year. The chill morning air gives room to breathe. There are signs of fall, and yet the bees are still poking around...

Our neighbours still have green tomatoes on the vine....

And the earth is still producing bounty, sometimes with weird and curious results...

The farmer very prosaically explained that the watermelon had rested on vines. I prefer to think of it as a magical watermelon tattoo. It's so beautiful. And it was in relief, so there we were at the market, Safiya and I, caressing this watermelon in wonder.

Sometimes that's all it takes to make a day fine.

Some New Little Things

2008-09-15T22:02:00.004-05:00

After a show, when I look back at what I've written afterward, I realise that it's mostly the ravings of a 12-year-old girl. :-) Anyway.....

Things I am enjoying making lately:

That picture is for my friend Janet. She had this idea a year ago and I promised that I would work on it and it's been percolating. And now it's here and I'm very pleased. What is it? It's a fishing set, of course. Fishing for rain. Happy rain :-) There are a bunch of other sets coming and they're pleasing me to no end.

Usually I'm pretty laid back about artistic license and integrity and things up in that alley there. Great masters like Mozart and such borrowed from eachother, so why can't you borrow from me....ish? Obviously, if someone rips people's stuff off for sale, I don't want to be their friend, but I post a tutorial here and there because I think it's good karma. I have no grand designs for a design empire. It's more fun that way.

That being said, even though that cute little set could possibly not be an original idea, it seems so to me (not to mention Janet), and I'm feeling a little proprietary. If I catch you copying this idea and selling it, I will hunt you down, that cloud will grow teeth, and gnaw at you in your dreams.

I'm just sayin'....

The Queen West Art Crawl (in Which There is Mention of Artists)

2008-09-14T20:09:00.015-05:00

We (shows around here are always we - it's pretty much a family affair, as I suspect it is for many people) were at the lamp-post. Thanks to everyone who came by!

Safiya took pictures, including the one above, while Mr. S. and I put the tent up Saturday morning. Which means that there were a lot of pictures that looked like this:

and this:

Midriffs and feet. I'd like there to be a movie shot entirely from the perspective of a young child. What a different world view. Do you remember being little? I mean, are your memories from that view? All I remember is not being able to reach the top of my dresser.

Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, the weather was miserable on Saturday, which was why I was so happy when this happened today:

Everyone was happy, because Saturday had been a struggle with the rain all day, with many vendors tents' roofs filled with water and a few collapsed overnight, and there was the threat of an evening deluge today, so we were all just whooping is up.

I was thrilled to be accepted into the QWAC. I am of two minds about applying for it again. The reason being that it is outdoors. This is not a problem when the table fee is $30. The table fee for the QWAC was $175. This is the most that I've paid for an outdoor event, an event which is, of course, weather dependent.

However, (besides the cool-factor...my ego inflated a couple of times when I got accepted) my criteria have not changed. Did I make my table money back? Yes. Did I get lots of work done? Yes. Did I get to meet some very cool people? Yes. For instance, the wonderful Lisa Pijuan-Nomura, who was across the way. And wonderful is a staid word for such a girl. You know those people who, when they cross your path in life, provoke in you that awareness that you are lucky to have met them? Lisa's one of those, and I think it will be fun getting to know her. Which I must. Besides which, Safiya's taken with her ;-) Lisa was there supporting her husband Dave's work, some kick-ass amazing photography.

I also have a new felt love. James Fowler was kind enough to chat for a bit. He has a neat technique for joining little squares of felt together. I wish I would have thought of it. Check out his amazing throws.

Also, I got to meet and ahem, gush a little, over the artist Peter Schacht. Back in April I wrote a little about his work, and the images in that post are postcards of his at which I never tire of looking. He still has the farm painting I pine over. He was kind enough to reciprocate my visit and come over for a chat. That's the thing about these shows. I've found the community to be warm and helpful and full of really interesting people.

The other favourite artist of mine that I mentioned in that post, Shaun Downey, the one whose sketch I have, was also there. Now, from my purchase of his sketch he remembered me (there's a small, slightly humiliating story on my part in there somewhere. I'll tell it to you one day...) and I found out that he was there supporting his partner, Kelly Grace. Obviously I wanted to check her work out. Good painter + another painter = probably another very good painter. He couldn't remember her booth number, so I asked what she looked like. He smiled and said "pretty" (and blushed ever-so-slightly?)

Life should be full of kind, sweet moments like that.

I went and checked her stuff out. I like it very much.

And he was right. Pretty :-)

That's my mish-mashed table - it was much better organised (and better lit) today. There weren't very many people doing textiles. And certainly not much geared towards younger kids. (Oh - swapped stuff with Fish on Fridays - her stuff is clever and cute - good combination!)

Maybe I fit in, maybe I didn't - who cares! I had fun :-)

We're Back

2008-09-10T22:22:00.003-05:00

We did this. For a while. And as it is said: it was good.

Now, much too chill air bookends the days. I'm already wearing woolen socks. But in the spirit of a just-passed-us-by-and-much-too-quickly August, this evening we took part in quite possibly the most urban thing ever: we roasted the last of our vegan marshmallows in the kitchen, over our stove...using chopsticks as sticks.

Seems like a strangely Canadian thing to do, too, although I hear generations of campers rolling over in their graves. ha!

There are many stories to tell, much to catch up on. Including my work for this weekend's Queen West Art Crawl, into which I was accepted. So now, on to a some late night crafting.

I hope you have been keeping well this summer's end. Good to be here again.

Welcome, Wee One

2008-08-19T07:28:00.004-05:00

Last night Safiya's first cousin arrived!

Welcome, Scarlet Avery. We can't wait to meet you!

Love,

Auntie Marnie and Uncle Mr. S. (wheeee!)

Loot

2008-08-18T08:33:00.010-05:00

This morning it was imperative that we have a tea party, first thing, with the loot we brought back from the Kids Trunk Show yesterday. It was at the workroom, and packed full of local artisans who had made things just for kids, so this of course was a dangerous situation (check out Karyn's blog make something, for details on vendors including some cool interviews). I swapped a playcape with Kelly of Leilabug Toys for the awesome anarchymobile, perfect for our friends' baby due soon, and Shannon Gerrard had come up with delectable crocheted treats (hence the tea party this morning), and I finally got to meet Tania of tania (makes sense, I know), which was one of the first blogs I ever started reading. I was very excited and tried not too talk to much and make an ass of myself (hard to do most days, especially when ravenously hungry and hopped up on illicit coffee).

And do you see that ridiculously cute teeny-tiny cake? From the youngest vendor at the fair, Ella. She makes genius little sculptures, each with its own story, and she's a cool gal to boot. Organised, laid back, and getting right into it - she was teaching other kids to make sculptures throughout the show. Very together for 10 years old.

As for the four-year-old in our midst, this was her custom-made display:

That was the "trunk" she wanted. She decorated it, worked on the sculptures, made the sign (noticed the upped price from 2 cents to 25 cents? that's quite the price hike! :-) and then proceeded to accost anyone who walked by to see if they wanted to buy one of her items. I had visions of Covent Garden, a la "My Fair Lady", and I was pretty proud of her. Oh, and notice Safiya's newest prize possession, a cactus from Shannon:

She had talked about it for months, earning money, spending it on ice-cream, then saving up again, and then Shannon, in true good character, swapped her the cactus for Safiya's last two sculptures. That's good people.

My own trunk was packed full, cheerful, overflowing, and slightly throw-together, kind of like I've been feeling lately:

Sold a few things, including:

had a good afternoon (except for an incident involving Mr. S. arriving mid-afternoon carrying a bloody-mouthed Safiya in his arms after an almost-bit-through-her-bottom-lip-little-fall in the park - she's o.k. - lots of noise and blood, very small trip), met new people (some first-time-vendors, which is always cool), and came home really tired, although not as tired as Mr. S., who had lugged all my stuff half way across the city.

So now today is cleaning up and catching up. You'll notice that there are pictures again. It's a new-to-me camera, and I'm happy, but it's not my camera yet. I'm still getting used to it and am in the awkward elated-hesitant stage. Even though I don't have a choice now, I still look at it and say, "Well, we'll see. If you behave, you can stay." So, we'll see......

Oh, and for your delight, when I was looking for the link to Ella's etsy site, I found this bit of awesome-ness by the girl herself:

Enjoy!

Hi There

2008-08-07T07:31:00.006-05:00

A crazy number of people dropped by here yesterday - all thanks to the wonderful Sew, Mama, Sew blog. They accepted my excitement about the dresses I re-fashioned for Safiya and posted it on the latest Create & Celebrate post - how exciting! If you haven't already, go take a look at all the incredibly wonderful things that people have been makng - so much inspiration! If you've come by from over there, hi there, I'm so glad you came by!

So, to please your eyes even though my camera's broken, I'm sharing a couple of pictures I had from before of my latest crazy-couple-dollar-thrift-find:

It's so sweet and someone took a lot of time embroidering all those adorably happy animals (I love the squirrel!). My brother-in-law has finished law school and so now our other bedroom is empty. Safiya is excited about having a space of her own, but "not to sleep in". Nope, we're not going there yet.

But this may be a good beginning for a sweet room for a sweet girl.

Good Start

2008-08-06T07:13:00.000-05:00

My new favourite breakfast is popped amaranth. It's so ridiculously good, nutritionally, but I've been having a hard time finding uses for it except plain, even though it's a bit gooey when cooked like a grain. It's yummy popped, though.

I burnt my first batch because the instructions I found said "highest heat possible". They obviously hadn't met my stove. So medium heat is just fine. When you pour the amaranth in, it should start popping almost right away. I found a little demo (halfway down, under "Amaranth Porridge"). It only takes a minute to make, so easy and quick, perfect for first thing in the morning.

Plain is good, or with milk, like teeny-tiny rice krispies. It's a silly way to start the day.

Especially if you forget to put the lid on when you're popping it.

My New Career as an Illustrator Awaits...

2008-08-04T16:17:00.003-05:00

My hand hurts. My right hand. With my left I've eaten almost an entire batch of granola (which I made for breakfasts - ha!) so that I could concentrate. (We don't have a scanner, hence the awesome picture in MS Paint :-)

That's the dress. Some yellow scraps pieced together for the front, the rest is a grey linen. In case you can't see it - ahem - it's partially lined with a seventies-baroque-ish grey and yellow and lime green flower print. I'm really loving the yellow and grey - it was seeing Soulemama's dress that prompted me to finish Safiya's, which was languishing on a recently-thrifted footstool in the studio which has, of course, become just another flat surface on which to store fabric.

I'm tempted to do a "finish-a-project-a-day" kind of August, but a) I don't have the commitment and b) no camera, so that would be kind of mean to anyone reading this, 'cause really: "look at the beautiful quilt I finished and then had to draw in a really awkward manner to get the point across"....

If I were Mr. S. I'd do it...just because. ;-)

Arg! and Addresses?

2008-08-02T19:29:00.004-05:00

Safiya has a new cute dress that I finally finished. It is grey and yellow, which you cannot see because the camera was left outside during a downpour. I am waiting for it to dry out. Has this ever happened to anyone else? Do digital cameras come back from the dead? Anybody got a second-hand one they want to part with?

Weird. Blogging without pictures is not very satisfactory, and I guess my business is dependent on that little machine. Etsy certainly is, eh? Nobody would buy anything without those cute little pictures...Can you believe catalogues used to be drawn?

Sigh.

And, on a totally different note, it would help if I'm going to mail packages if they actually have addresses to go to :-) And since there are exactly 3 stories of generosity in the comments, I've decided to give a package to each of you. Yay! So, will Rachel, Alexis, and Tracey please stand up and email me your addresses? Thanks!

There now, I feel a bit better.

Celebration

2008-07-28T10:32:00.004-05:00

Safiya will be four on Wednesday. Her birthday party was yesterday. Thank you to all family, friends, and neighbours who jammed into our little place and shared a wonderful day of food and kids running around and the tides of party-noise that is always music to my ears: talking, laughing, kids banging various musical instruments at various times, clinking cutlery, the telling of stories, books read out loud to children crowded around, the yelling for coffee...

A delightful day, with a very happy little girl in the middle of the whirl.

The Vegan Mennonite

2008-07-24T19:32:00.010-05:00

The vegetable dishes section in the revered cookbook above are heavy on cheese and half have meat in them. Butter and eggs are applied liberally throughout, and the idea of a vegetarian is an aberration of nature....

But these things must be understood within their context, surely. When asked to submit recipes years ago, these ladies would have submitted their most proud, their most delicious. Recipes that indicated bounty and celebration (think eggy paska), not thrift (bacon fat sandwiches, anyone?)

And it is within that frame that I remember the savoured foods of my childhood. Tummy-filling borscht (tomato based, not beet), flaky perishky with savory or sweet fillings, platz, hand-cut kielke, deep fried rollkuchen, and, of course, Mennonite sausage with cream gravy and wareniki - oh, and that staple of faspa (late afternoon lunch) - zweiback (double buns)...my grandmothers' food lavished well-being on us with its freshness and evidence of hand hard work. Although, the Mennonite Treasury of Recipes, like any good 50's cookbook, has it's share of ingredients such as condensed milk, soup-in-a-can, and jello. Why not? Thrift, although unspoken, was a virtue bred in the bone.

Today I did the unthinkable, and I may have created a new mission for myself. On a substituting roll, I veganised my Grammy's raisin cookies, the recipe for which is contained in the Mennonite cookbook. It's not a traditional Mennonite food, but for me it reminds me of Grammy's house, which is authentic enough for me. So here I proudly present my first vegan "Mennonite" recipe:

Raisin Cookies

1 cup raisins
1/2 cup boiling water
1/3 cup canola oil
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp ground flax seeds
3 Tbsp boiling water
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup unbleached white pastry flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp cloves
1/8 tsp nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 F. Combine ground flax seed and the 3 Tbsp of boiling water and let sit while continuing with recipe. Combine raisins and 1/2 cup boiling water and also let sit (at least 10 minutes).

Mix dry ingredients, including sugar, in a large bowl. Drain the raisins and reserve liquid. Add oil, raisins, vanilla, and ground flax seed mixture to dry ingredients and mix until combined. Add a little of the reserved water until you get a sticky batter (don't overmix).

Drop by teaspoonfuls, bake for 10 minutes (they should rise and not spread too much, but they'll fall again when you take them out), remove from oven and cool on racks (they're a soft cookie).
..................

They turned out great, if not quite like Grammy's, then yummy in their own right. Now, the holy grail for me is zweiback, which, as Grammy told me this morning, "need butter...you really can't make them without butter." But you know what? I just found a recipe that doesn't use butter, and a really neat tutorial on how to make them, 'cause there would be shame in the room if I tried to do this at the side of Grandma or Grammy ;-)

And I'll end with my favourite part of this cookbook, the part that reminds me of the trinity of weddings, showers, and funerals in church basements, the MCC (Mennonite Central Committee - a relief organisation) sale, of youth Sunday suppers, of family reunions and church picnics.

"Quantity Servings". For 100. Now, when we get a vegan cookbook with that section, that will be a real cookbook. All else is mere child's play ;-)

Also, In Which Lillian Was Generous and so there is a Give-Away with a Package Actually Ready to Give Away

2008-07-23T22:52:00.001-05:00

"S" is for swell..

And sweet and sgenerous and sthoughtful....

When I did the Children's Trunk Show, my booth neighbour was the sweet Lillian, who runs Bamboo Lil y. Her stuff is adorable and well made and environmentally conscience, so please go and check out what she makes because she is due some awesome karma. She was cleaning out her studio, she had extra fabric, she knew from the show that I use recycled fabric, and next thing you know there's this email asking me if I would like two large garbage bags full of fabric.

My head almost exploded.

And to top it off, she passed on to me some incredible fabrics from her Mom, who had brought them from India in the 60's. That is about the coolest thing I've ever heard, and so to delight your senses, here's a little sampling:

Good quality fabrics; silks, wools, psychedelic polyesters, cottons, just about like falling into fabric heaven.

And I'm really excited about this, which is a ruched chiffon:

Actually, I love the paper in which it is enclosed as well, and my mind is racing, thinking up possibilities...

And to top it all off, some awesome vintage dresses, also from India:

Thanks, Lillian. Generosity like yours is truly kind-hearted. And being the fortunate recipient of such generosity prompts me to pass it on. So, please share a tale of generosity here, in the comments. If not just for the fact that stories like that spread warmth, but for the fact that I've got two identical packages ready to be sent out containing pieces of some of my favourites:

There are some surprise pieces in there as well, and some of that chiffon, just to spread the happiness around.

Now, for the sake of transparency, I have packages from two give-aways....last year, that are still W.I.P. I've been pretty good since then, but if you are someone who is waiting for one of those, do not despair! And please comment again, because these packages are hot to trot and waiting to go :-)

Let's see...leave a story of generosity in the comments for this post by Wednesday, July 30, which is Safiya's birthday (yay!), and we'll randomly draw two numbers and have the packages out by the end of that week.

Thanks Lillian!

In Which Mr. S. Has Delusions That Become Reality

2008-07-23T16:53:00.006-05:00

On Friday I had a little surgery to rid my leg of veins that were threatening mutiny - a condition I inherited and have been putting up with since I was 16. But the point of this story is not poor me, the point is that Mr. S. is a masochist. A sweet one, to be sure, but there are times like this where....

Well, like I said, the surgery was on Friday. Afterward, Mr. S. drove Safiya and I down to my Mom's to hang out while I was off my feet (and to have a lovely baby shower for my new sister-in-law - yay!), and as for the picture above, that was what our kitchen looked like when we left. I'll not show pictures of the floor, which was in a miserable state.

This is what I walked into when we got home Tuesday morning. Cabinets painted beautifully and floor tiles regrouted. It wasn't a surprise; I knew it was going to be done. And that's the scary thing - I knew it was going to be done....in three days. You see, he gets this look in his eye when we are discussing stuff like this and then he says "You know what? I bet you...I bet you I can get it done in three days." And then he shakes his head emphatically "yes", looks at me with three fingers held up and says "three days!"

Like I said, masochist. Not that I'm complaining ;-)

The Day Safiya Decided to go to Granny's By Herself

2008-07-17T09:39:00.008-05:00

Yesterday Safiya ran away. Well, almost. She had finished what she was doing, I was in the middle of trying to get an order done, and she wanted me to teach her how to crochet a Daddy sea slug. My suggestion of "later" was not part of the plan, I got frustrated and she got upset.

She went upstairs to vent, and I heard her complaining away (she doesn't realise I can hear her, which is actually quite amusing), I went upstairs to give her some solace, then back down to the studio.

A long pause, some pattering around, supplies falling on the floor, and some muttering. This is the conversation that followed, us communicating between floors:

"Mama, how do you spell Mama?"
"M-A-M-A"

And then I heard her spelling first Mr. S.'s name and then her name S-A-F-I-Y-A....

"How do you spell is?"
"I-S"

"And Going?"
"G-O-I-N-G"....And here my scissors pause, intrigued...

"To?"
"T-O"

"A?"
"A"

"Different?"
"D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T.....A different what, honey?"

"I can't tell you"
"Oh, o.k...."

pause

"Mama, can I tell you anything?"
"Yes, honey, you can tell me anything."

"A Different House. Mama, how do you spell House?"
"H-O-U-S-E"

And then I went upstairs.

I found her lying on the floor by the front door, shoes on, despondent in the way that only little almost-four-year-old girls can be, and having decided she was going to Granny's house because there, "Granny plays with me all day." There was a note. With tears in her eyes, she patted my arm and told me, "Don't worry Mama, I'll be back in 12 days."

I asked her if she had everything she needed. She perked up, pattered back into the playroom and returned with one of her stuffed animals and her piggybank "because I'll need money...." We talked about bus tickets and she remembered to ask me for the key to Granny's house so she could get in. She asked me to open the door, I asked if she needed her hat, she said "Thanks Mama", got about 3 feet out the door, and then turned and cried...."But I'll miss you, Mama!"

Hugs, more crying, some ambivalence about staying or going - she missed Granny so much, you see, but also, "I like it here". It was an afternoon of between-us talking and much hugs and kisses, me trying to hold back laughter and tears at the same time.

Safiya, my honey, you never cease to amaze me. Thank you for an afternoon of just us.

As for the rest of the day, this was the song that floated around in and about the two of us, comforting and holding my hand....

Where are you going, my little one, little one?
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two,
Turn around and you're four,
Turn around and you're a young girl,
Going out of my door.

Turn around, turn around,
Turn around and you're a young girl,
Going out of my door....

Wardrobe Refashion, Kid's Version

2008-07-14T16:48:00.012-05:00

Every once in a while I quickly go through my clothes and put things in the donation bag. Lately though, I've become a bit more mean. Yes, there's a perfectly good shirt of Mr. S.'s that he doesn't dig anymore in there, but you can't have it because the buttons can go in the button box and the rest can make rags. Stingy, I know, but might as well get as much use out of it as possible.

So there was the top in the picture up there, which was an early-pregnancy-friend-gave-me item that seriously? Awesome on a hot summer beach day when the pregnancy boobs are so big that they can be seen from space, but these days squishing is hardly to their benefit ;-) I quickly shortened the elasticized bodice (just cut the top couple of inches off in-between rows of stitching), took the side seam in, added ribbon for straps, and hey presto!

On a roll, I got daring with this:

Love the pattern, love the cut, but too small. I'm not sure if doing the following is officially sanctioned altering - is this allowable? Apparently, 'cause it worked!

I put the t-shirt on Safiya, got her to stand still (!), pinched it up on top of her shoulders until I got a decent fit, marked one side with a safety pin 'cause that's all I could manage given the level of wriggliness, and then turned it inside out and pondered for a minute.

This is a view from the back of one of the shoulders. The trick, which I almost got, is to line up the neck binding and the sleeve seams from front to back. There was extra fabric on the back, so I just pleated it as I sewed the seam, following the original line of the shirt (which yielded a perfectly fitting sleeve - I was pretty amazed!) It still puckered a bit across the back of the neck, so I just folded it under and stitched, as you can see.

O.k., the following is my doctored version (the red arrows are where I lined up the old seams, which are in white, and the green line is where I sewed the new seam - does that help, or am I making things more complicated?)

Anyway, not the most glamourous of jobs, but it created, it all of 5 minutes (minus the pondering), a perfectly serviceable dress:

I'd love to show you a picture of her wearing it, but most of the time today she was sticking her hands in the pockets and pulling it up over her head. I can, however, show you what happened at the end of the day:

That's our vegetable "garden". There's herbs, sunflowers, and sunchokes in there somewhere. And the often played in but rarely photographed mud hole. With the dress as accessory.

Like Scoring Three Goals in One Game...

2008-07-12T15:29:00.009-05:00

I tried to convey how excited I was about this to Mr. S. using terms he could understand, but to no avail. "That's nice!" He tried, he really tried to be happy for me, but there was still the unspoken "whatever, crazy lady" behind his words :-)

This is my spool graveyard. I've gone through a lot of thread. Does anyone have an idea of what to do with these? I guess somehow load them up again, eh? Anyway, a couple of days ago I ran out of white. And off-white. And beige.

The halcyon days of simply buying new thread, the days before I realised what I sewed with ended up being swallowed by sea life, are long gone (and that includes the dyes - I'm starting to think, if I wouldn't want to drink it, it shouldn't get thrown out...I know, crazy talk....)

Thread on spools is hard to come by second-hand. And I haven't graduated yet to buying organic thread. But I have scored a couple of cones of thread for sergers, in the hopes of figuring out what to do with them. Ages ago I remember seeing how to rig them up on a non-serger machine on someone's craft blog. I have a million bookmarks - did I bookmark it? Of course not. So, after some searching last night, I came up with a combination of this idea posted on instructables and this. And for all you out there going, "well, a thread stand, of course..." I did not know that thread stands existed, so there.

The hanger was bent with pliers and tacked down with some electric-cord-hold-in-place-thingies from Ikea, and I just placed the cone on the spindle and put it underneath.

And it works like a charm!.....

.....GOAL!

Like Candy

2008-07-10T08:53:00.012-05:00

I would have loved to see what came from the creative hands that previously owned this bowl of goodies. Crocheting something so fastidious holds no appeal for me, but I bet there will be another use for colours so luscious around here. It makes me happy just looking at them. Anybody got any ideas?

Another stroke of thrift-store luck yielded this wonder stack, and do you see the mod pink? Two big sheets!

Way back in September I lamented that there was only one little piece of it left in my stash. It's very odd to re-find pieces, but then of course, the manufacturers would have made stacks and stacks of the same thing, right? Actually makes you wonder where the rest of it is lurking :-)

And finally, after much waiting, Safiya and I found our very own button haul. I was always jealous of other crafters' stories of button hauls - where were all these second-hand buttons hiding? And voila!

We had a great afternoon just hanging out sorting buttons. Kids and buttons are made for eachother. There were some real beauties in the bags we found:

So now I'm set for buttons. For life :-)

If I needed something second-hand, I used to anxiously peruse the thrift stores pretty frequently. "Maybe this time the hand blender I need will be there!" Freaking out is not good for thrifting karma. I've had much better success just relaxing and checking when I happen to go instead of making it a mission. Thrift-store disappointment is harsh. Case in point: the hand blender. We went without after ours broke because after watching Manufactured Landscapes I just couldn't bring myself to by one new. I freaked for a while and then resigned myself to mashing soup with my trusty yet ineffectual potato masher. (Oh the deprivation!) And then, having let it go, a hand blender appeared when I wasn't even looking for one. Huh. And it was even better than our old one.

Can I keep talking about thrifting? 'Cause really sometimes it feels like finding treasure.

It All Started with the Maple Syrup

2008-07-08T12:57:00.005-05:00

A couple of days ago I was picking up emergency maple syrup from the grocery store close to us (emergency as in, we're going to have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow :-) and I gasped (yes, out loud) when I saw the price.

It had been $8.99 for 500mL. It was now $10.99. That's in the space of a month or so. I asked the clerk about it and she said "Yeah, it's gone up, eh? They said there was a reason - I can't remember what it was, but they said there was a good reason." Yes, it's called high oil prices.

Food price rises only happen to other people, right? Like a lot (most?) people we kind of keep a watch on how much we spend on food, and we kind of have some debt, not including the mortgage. What happens when the money that needs to go to that debt now has to be diverted to food? We're not there yet, but it's not hard for me to see that path, and I can imagine that some people (especially our neighbours to the south) are already there.

And I'd like to introduce you to our $9.50 bowl of peas:

Please note, I am not complaining, because sweet freshly shelled peas straight from the farmer is foods for the gods. We live literally in the middle of the largest city in Canada, and this farmer travels about 100km to bring fresh food to the market. I am not going to begrudge her/him $9.50 for a four quart of peas (which yielded about 4 cups shelled - hard to tell, we ate as we went along :-). My grandmother would be shocked, and I grew up on a farm, so it hurts a little, but did I grow my own peas? no.

But what happens when the cost for that farmer to get here keeps rising? My confession is that a lot of this creates for me some anxiety and a vague sense of unease. Hence the very cheery food posts lately glossing over all that ;-) Actually, it is exactly why there's been a bit more food posts around here. Lately my focus has been my fledgling business, planning to sew more for us, and really buckling down and learning to plan ahead with food and trying to make everything at home. Instead of ordering pizza on a day when Mama and Mr. S. ain't got the energy, I'd like to be able to take something out of the freezer or shelf. That requires planning and budgeting; more than I realised.

So, we made our own jam because not only does it taste waaaaay better, but it costs (and will cost if you figure what jam might cost in a year - ha!) slightly less than buying it. And I love having jam....for the year. And learning skills. Because that's what's important, right Napoleon Dynamite? Skills?

She started off really enthusiastic and then that predictably waned. Safiya's almost four and it makes me glad to see that she doesn't view anything (yet) as a chore. We'll see when she gets older.

I wonder what food will cost then.

Chickpea Cutlet Love

2008-07-07T17:15:00.004-05:00

That may not look particularly appetizing, but it represents a breakthrough in food at our house. Safiya has never eaten a sandwich before. She loved Veganomicon's chickpea cutlets so much that not only did she eat this schnitzel-ish food item, but she suggested the bun and then insisted I take pictures of her eating this crazy food.

Having never worked with vital wheat gluten before, gotta say, it's easy-peasy. The recipe (you can find it and a slightly ribald review at Yeah, That "Vegan" Shit) calls for liquid smoke (eeeew), which does not live at our house, so I omitted the chili flakes and subbed just a tiiiiny bit of this phenomenal stuff:

I'm on the chickpea cutlet bandwagon, and it is a yummy ride :-)

There are No Pictures of the Cookies...

2008-07-02T21:16:00.004-05:00

...because we ate them all in one 24-hour period. And by we I mean me.

The chewy chocolate gingerbread cookies, that is. Sub 1/3 cup oil for the 1/2 cup butter. Bake for 8 minutes so they don't get crispy. They'll be a little flatter than usual, but it doesn't matter. I'm telling you, it doesn't matter.

Heaven.

Vegan Martha

2008-06-27T07:50:00.003-05:00

In case anybody missed it, baked goods are a vital part of life around these parts. Most of the time, we go for good. As in, it may not have eggs, or dairy, or even vegan margarine (there's someone, a friend, who is trying to take me over to the dark side with Earth Balance margarine and shortening, and oh boy, does the margarine make a tasty buttercream icing, so yes, I confess to trying it, and yes, it still continues to freak me out and will not be part of our fridge family except for weddings, which I don't see coming around again anytime soon...anyway...)

Where was I? Oh yes, none of the above right? But it still has to make me weak in the knees, or else what's the point? But besides perusing the vegan blogs and reading "Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World" like it's some kind of food bible/porn, the baking daring has remained for others.

But what to do about Martha? Because it's sad, so sad, to leaf through my "Cookie" magazines and know that there's nary a vegan cookie in there and that Martha's arteries, which by now must be made of butter, are so much stronger than mine, which are merely human.

I couldn't take it anymore. Knowing that my ultimate goal was Chewy Chocolate Ginger Cookies (which will be my undoing someday in a spectacular they-found-her-on-an-apartment-rooftop-naked-covered
-in-nothing-but-crumbs-from-a-batch-of-these-cookies kind of way), I started with another recipe, the Classic Oatmeal Cookie recipe, so that if it was a disaster it wouldn't be too hard to bear.

(See those? That's my cookie nirvana. And that's from the Martha website - my cookies never look like that)

Subbed 2/3 cup canola oil for the 1 cup butter. Subbed 2 Tbsp flax meal + 3 Tbsp hot water (mix and let sit a couple minutes until gooey) for every egg. Subbed chocolate chips for whatever they thought would be a good idea to add, obviously. Found that the dough wasn't sticky enough to make cookies (unless packing them into shape like little flat snowballs or something), so instead spread the dough between two pans to make bar cookies. Baked for 18 minutes.

Dear-goodness-on-what-the? Oh, they were good. Very, very good. I am now a brazen substituting queen and no recipe is safe, now (except maybe shortbread).

And yes, I realise that this post could have been written: made cookies. substituted these items. turned out good. ug.

Except that baked goods make me swoon. And the idea of vegan chewy chocolate gingerbread cookies may, in fact, inspire an entire novel...

Punk Rock Girl

2008-06-25T21:36:00.003-05:00

Today she painted a rose black. There's hope for this pink-loving-pretty-living girl yet...

Vignettes from a Wedding: I Remember Early Mornings

2008-06-24T20:33:00.005-05:00

The wedding was on summer solstice, which is a lovely way to celebrate, I think. However, these pictures are not from the actual wedding morning because of course, there were other things to do besides take pictures, like watch in awe as Mr. S. packed what certainly looked like two trips worth of stuff into the van so it could make but one. So these pictures are of the early morning, my favourite part of the day, the day before solstice.

The stillness is what thrills me. A couple of birds, everyone else asleep, the air still fresh from it's night's rest. I didn't get very much sleep the past week, but those early early mornings were certainly worth it. And all the stuff that got done.

In keeping with an entirely different mood, I have a confession to make. Coffee. So, so much coffee. Double, triple espressos. People bringing it for me, me making it. It didn't matter. Somehow it got to me.

And it was good.

So now I know how you all get everything done, and don't pretend it's not true. I have found you out.

Vignettes from a Wedding: Family from Afar

2008-06-24T20:07:00.002-05:00

(That's a picture that I snuck of my Auntie Jan teaching Safiya how to play baseball. They had a great time together....)

There are many variations on the how-much-help spectrum that any parent gets, from single mother isolated to kids with more than one mom or dad or both, plus all the extended family. Mr. S. and I both have very supportive families, it's just that they're supportive from afar: they're all in another part of the province or country. And when this is what you know, it's o.k., you figure out a way, and in many ways it's great because when Safiya was born, Mr. S. and I had to figure out very quickly how we were going to do this, mostly by ourselves (the whole babysitter thing, which is something we've never done, is an entirely different matter).

And then this weekend happened. We shared a house with my Mom and my aunts and uncles. I think Mr. S.'s exact words were: "This isn't parenting. Heck, if it was like this all the time, I'd have four kids!"

His point being, I think, that there is the physical aspect of family life that is impossible to escape (and I think there's something a little wrong with wanting to, because it's also one of the most blessed things about family life). Everybody only has so many hands to carry things or play, mouths to tell stories, backs for piggy-back, ears to hear, brains to think. So, the more the merrier, as it were.

And it was pretty merry. My aunts, especially, have that inclination towards laughter and silliness that is infectious. I loved being around them as a kid, and I saw that same happiness in Safiya's eyes this weekend.

Now, how do we get them to move, with their entire families, to Toronto? Think, think.....

Vignettes from a Wedding: In Praise of Machinery

2008-06-24T19:53:00.005-05:00

Being a Luddite with respect to certain aspects of everyday living has its advantages most of the time. Except when preparing food for a wedding, albeit a small one, by one's self. (Which is not entirely true, as the bride's family generously took care of the meat (obviously), and I had a lot of help with many different wedding prep tasks.) However, most of the food was made (in excess, Mr. S. notes) by myself. Hence, here is my ode to modern-day machinery:

Oh food processor,
How I love thy swirling blades.
Thy carbon footprint may be
a giant amongst small counter-top appliances,
But thy usefulness endears you
Deeply to my heart.

Your raucous caw
Will never compare
to the sweet zen of the grater.
And yet,
When your siren call fills the kitchen air,
It gives me shivers of delight.

I don't think that one will end up on a quilt.....tea towel maybe? ;-)