Take A Seat

Over Christmas, GP and I went to see my family on Orcas Island. My aunt and uncle there own an incredible 1950s house. When my brother and I were little kids (now we're big kids), we used to spend hours playing hide and see there, because it's so big. There are three floors, four bedrooms, (plus a beach house), four bathrooms, a butler's pantry, a "den" with a lovely great big fireplace, a formal living room with a lovely great big fireplace, a formal dining room which looks out onto a courtyard filled with roses, two different attic spaces, and a room for my aunt to do her crafts. These rooms are tastefully furnished with beautiful antiques, such as an old French wash basin, with a copper tub, and incredible bird's eye maple armoires. I take after her in that I love to spend time sewing, painting, and otherwise nesting. (Ok, well I don't love painting, but I do love transforming the house, so we'll just leave that there). When we were there, my aunt happened to be cleaning out some of her not often used furniture, and I just happened to be the lucky beneficiary of that exercise. I made off with:

• a beveled mirror with a gold-ish frame
• a darling little footstool with very old carved wood
• a framed print of an old French milk ad, with cats on it (clearly this was the highlight of the trip)
• a small side table, perfect for a spot in our bathroom
• an occasional chair, with needlepoint seat
• some fabrics and a table cloth
• a bistro chair that had seen better days 

This last item, the little chair she gave us, I was scheming up ideas for the whole way home. I've now given it a bit of a face lift. Below was the process, from filling in the cracks due to weather and wear, to free-handing the wheat garland on the back. (Ignore the box of recycling next to my desk!) All that's left is for me to sew a cushion for the seat. That'll come soonish. Yes, I'm aware that the chair looks like it belongs at the UN. I love it!

I Had a Shitty Day, or 50 Ways to Recover from a Shitty Day

1. Buy flowers for a stranger at the grocery store
2. Buy flowers for yourself
3. Do yoga
4. Clean the house
5. Play piano
6. Do something else creative
7. Phone your mum
8. Phone your best friend
9. Get hugs
10. Give hugs
11. Breathe deeply
12. Drink something soothing (doesn't have to be alcoholic)
13. Be silent
14. Go outside
15. Spend time with animals/your pets
16. Spend time with cute kids (unless they also happen to be brats)
17. Cry loudly and let your face be really red and ugly and snotty
18. Go for a run
19. Play with Legos
20. Cook something outrageously delicious and don't feel guilty about eating it
21. Change into the most comfortable clothes you own
22. Take a nap
23. Sing, even if it's a sad song and you have a terrible voice
24. Listen to music
25. Attend a place of worship
26. Write down what happened
27. Cuddle up with something soft
28. If/when you're driving, let another vehicle into traffic ahead of you
29. Meditate
30. Lift weights, if you're into that
31. Take a bath, if you don't have to clean the tub first
32. Do a chore you've been neglecting
33. Look at old photos
34. Make a list
35. Make plans with a friend
36. Get in touch with a sibling
37. Write someone a happy letter
38. Write someone an angry letter, if necessary, even if you don't intend to send it
39. Think about five good things that happened today. Could be as simple as "I came home today and my cats came to greet me", "my skin looked amazing today", "the store had my type of vacuum bags in stock", "I don't have to go to choir tonight", etc.
40. Put on a ridiculously fancy dress and do nothing important. Works even better if you're a man
41. Read some fiction
42. Let someone take care of you
43. Watch mindless television
44. Plant a seed, even if it's just a bean you're sprouting in a cup with soggy paper towel, like kindergarteners do
45. Recall a dream you've had and look into what it would take to make it a reality, as though you were serious about it. Don't feel bad if you lose interest or never intend to follow through.
46. Take a walk down the street
47. Look at videos of babies laughing and cats being ridiculous
48. Tell someone you love them
49. Tell yourself you love you
50. Remember that the only constant in life is change, good or bad

On Gratitude

New year's resolutions suck. I can never remember the myriad ones I end up making and, when I eventually do remember what mine were (around June, usually) and realize that I haven't kept them, I feel guilty and failure-y. Last year, instead of making meaningless resolutions that will make me beat myself up and feel bad, I decided to pick a virtue to focus on throughout the year. That way, I'd still be improving myself, learning about myself, and helping improve the lives of others. Plus, it's a lot easier to remember a virtue than it is to remember a specific and usually unattainable goal.

2012's virtue was kindness and, originally, I meant to choose this virtue to remind myself to be more kind to others. Little did I know how far-reaching this wonderful virtue would be. Of course, I wasn't kind to everyone the whole year, and I didn't always remember that I was supposed to be focusing on kindness, but it gave me a surprising amount of clarity. Now when I make decisions, I keep kindness in mind: "Is this going to benefit me? Will it benefit whoever's on the other end?". At work, writing emails to shitty clients, I sometimes ask myself, "what's going on for this client? Are they strapped for cash? Could that be why their email is rude?". This doesn't always happen, because I'm not a saint. But it's helped me become a more compassionate person, and it's something that I'll always keep in mind because I've focused on it so much over the last year.

I've also started to see that I'm often not as kind to myself as I should be. This is not an extension of the virtue that I predicted, but it's something that's been very important over the last year. I used to be on the executive of my choir, but after choosing kindness as 2012's virtue, I decided to free myself of that obligation so that I could focus on other hobbies that I find more fulfilling. There were many times over the past year that I've had to say "no" to obligations in order to be kind to myself. I get panicked, overwhelmed, and my immune system suffers if I don't have adequate time to be creative, or exercise, or be alone, or be in nature, or be with my family and friends.

I know you're just dying to know what my virtue for 2013 is. I'm choosing to focus on gratitude this year. There are so many things that I have to be grateful for that have happened over the past year and I can't wait to see how this virtue morphs and what parts of my life I can apply it to.

Reese, for example, is grateful that Greg is warm and hungover, because it means she has a very comfortable place to sit.

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
― Thornton Wilder

 “Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.”
― William Arthur Ward

"This being human is a guest-house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meaness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house,
empty it of its furniture.
Still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you
out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond."
― Rumi

Here's to a beautiful, healthy, abundant, and joyful 2013!

Twas The First Christmas in Our Own House

'Twas a dark, windy, rainy night, when all through the house,
Quite a few sounds were heard (the cats chasing a toy mouse).
The stockings were hung, by the gas fireplace we share;
They cover holes in the stonework we'd like to fix there.

This dark December night found us nestled all snug in our bed
With visions of renos dancing in sugar plums' stead
The fleece sheets on the bed and a cat in my lap,
We'd just settled in for a long winter's nap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I put on my sweatpants to survey the matter
I headed over to the window, which was cold as shit.
We'll budget for double-glazed when we replace it.

The sky was pitch black with rain coming down strong
It was just a small clang, I was sure nothing's wrong.
GP was still sleeping and I thought to head back
To continue relaxing in the ol' fart sack

"It's always so damn hot in here", methinks
The air circulation in our house, frankly, stinks
One day we'll get a system to distribute hot and cold
We were prepared to have quirks in a house this old

Sleeping was a lost cause, so I got ready for the day
"Sleep when you're dead", isn't that what they say?
I headed to the basement for clean underpants
Laundry's down there (with, until recently, carpenter ants)

It's damp in the basement, with a few termites too
Add in the two cats and it's almost a zoo!
I came up the stairs to feed the two beasts
Into the dining room, where we've had lots of feasts

This is where the ghost lives, who opens the doors
Knocks down jars from the shelf and taps on the floors
We think s/he's friendly, so no worry there,
Except for the pockets of icy cold air

I head back up to the bedroom and to my delight
I can hear rain pitter-patter on our upstairs skylight
This house sure has character, that's easy to see
The coved ceilings and plaster endear it to me

Ok, I'll admit, there's not much closet space
But look at our wood floors and kitschy stone fireplace!
The spacious backyard and recent deck renovations                                                                                                             Give us ample room for enjoying summer libations

Right then was high time for my morning cup of tea
I switched on the stove and got out my mug, just for me
The kitchen windows face east, which is pleasing to the eyes
As it allows a perfect view of the late winter sunrise

I sit here and wait for the kettle to boil
And worry about bills: electric and oil
I'm lucky to have a great life such as this:
More good days than bad, and a few moments of bliss

The basement is damp and the yard's a lot to manage,
It'll need some repair because of water damage.
There's not much storage, little room for hockey gloves
But it's got charm a-plenty and it's filled with lotsa love.

It's sure not for everyone and there are bumps along the way
We weren't surprised to learn we'd have hefty bills to pay.
I make my morning cup of tea, quiet as a mouse.
So enjoying our first Christmas season in our first little house.

Cool Running

It's kind of cold out here. Should I lock the door? Nah, GP's in there. He's fine. I don't want to have to carry a key. Maybe I should've worn a long-sleeve. I hope I'm reflective enough. It's going to be so nice to watch the sunrise as I go past the harbour, if I get that far. Ok. Let's start the stopwatch. 30 seconds running, 90 walking. Ugh, that's embarrassing. Oh well, gotta re-start somewhere. I hope the music works if the stopwatch is on at the same time. Oh good. Yes. Rolling Stones, Beast of Burden, perfect warm up song. Still cold out here. At least I can't see my breath. Fucking iPod headphones. I need to find my other ones that stay on better. It's nice out here. I hope I don't run into any weirdos. It fucking sucks that I have to think about that shit when I go out for a simple run. Solidarity, lady runners. An upbeat John Legend tune... I can deal with that! Is that a seagull? They're not so annoying as background noise. This isn't so bad. Glad I'm doing yoga with Heather tonight. I wish GP was a morning/outdoor running person. Fuck, my toe hurts. I wish Mike hadn't stepped on it when I was trying to teach him salsa. I hope my toenail doesn't come off. Pussycat Dolls! YES! Oh, damn, the file was corrupted. I'll have to download that song again. Enya? No, what was I thinking? Note to self: make a better playlist for running. Halfway here and I'm almost at the gangway at the Yacht Club. Not bad. I can't wait to see where I am next time! Time to turn around. Shit, out of batteries? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..........................................Thirty. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine.............................................Ninety. Spine long. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..........................................Thirty. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine.............................................Ninety. Shoulders down. Hands loose. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..........................................Thirty. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine.............................................Ninety. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..........................................Thirty. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine.............................................Ninety. I guess I'll walk the rest of the way for a cool-down. I'm so lucky to live here. Hi, kitty! It's kind of hot inside.

Chillin' Out Max

...And relaxin' all cool... Ok, so that is a super nerdy way to start a blog post, but I'm allowed because I MADE CHAIRS. I started these puppies last summer and finished them, well, this evening. I don't really have a good reason for taking a year to make these, other than not wanting to have to spend hours deciding on fabric and paint and the fact that we didn't have a decent power sander, and buying one wasn't a priority at the time and I would never DREAM of hand-sanding that shit. Really, I can't articulate enough how difficult a decision these colours were. Obviously, they work fantastically well and I'm very pleased with them because I have fabulous taste, but fabulous taste doesn't come easily, you know.

So anyway, without further ado, I'd like to introduce my sling chairs, specifically designed for the beach by some broad at this blog. How did I make them, you ask? Well, first I sanded a year's worth of sitting outside (under the deck, out of the rain, but still outside) off the wood. It needed it.

Then I painted the chair frames. Originally, I tried spray paint, which was a bloody nightmare because it runs out really fast, takes a month of Sundays to dry, and doesn't cover worth shit. I didn't bother taking a picture because it looked ugly as sin. So I painted over that regretful event with Annie Sloan chalk paint in Aubusson Blue. (Note: it's not actually paint for chalkboards; it's paint for furniture, which requires no primer and has low VOCs and covers like a dream. It just has a smooth chalky finish, hence the name.) Worked like a hot damn and I'm so happy with the colour. I didn't take a picture of the painted frames because I was too jazzed about the project to document it. I have no regrets, as it would've been a pretty boring photo.

Next, I sewed the fabric slings from outdoor material. They're reversible. (Ooooh!) Obviously someone had to overlook the operation and give me pointers.










 Last, I slipped them through the purpose-made slots and shoved the dowels into the purpose-sewn pockets and, voila, chairs. They'll be perfect for our new house.

Oh, yeah, we bought a house! I'm sure anyone reading this knows that already, but I'm just writing it down for posterity, as this will likely be the last post I write before we live in our very own house on Chestnut Street. What an adorable address.









 The Reese Beast wishes you a thuggin' summer, yo!

Capably Coping with Choir, Coworkers, and Cats

I have been busy lately. GP and I are in the market for a house, the cat has been as ravenous as ever (I started a Twitter account just to document the crazy shit she eats) and I've been to two weddings. Plants and flowers are growing in the garden and on the windowsill, work is pummeling forward at a break-neck pace, my taxes are now more than a week overdue and I am finding myself happily overwhelmed with it all.

Last week I got a cold. It occurred to me that every year in the spring time I get a cold. Not allergies, but a vicious cold. A couple years ago it was pneumonia and before that it was scarlet fever. I guess that's my body's way of saying "stop doing so goddamn much" and I rarely listen. Ok, self, you have my attention; I'm listening now.

GP and I are going to visit his grandmother who is celebrating her 90th birthday this year. She is a wonderful woman who I doubt has ever said anything mean in her life. Clearly we have a lot in common (heh). I wonder if she ever gets overwwhelmed now. I don't think so, somehow. I think if there are too many things going on, she has the wisdom to know that the storm is bound to blow over sometime. Do you think that's the secret to life? I'm not sure, but it's working for me right now!

You Ask, You Receive

I'm writing this as the cat sits on my chest, so I'm going to keep it short. Since you friends asked for photos of my new clothes and since I think it's dumb to post those kinds of photos on Facebook (not entirely sure why, but I think it has something to do with not wanting other people to feel bad about how they're not as awesome as I am), I'm putting the photos here instead of there.

Without further ado, here's my stuff. The jeans and long-sleeve navy blue top are not new. Please excuse the stain on my long-sleeve top. GP has clearly been slacking in his laundry duties and has failed to Shout® that shit.



Yes, that shirt has tiny cats all over it. Note: if you ever buy me a gift, please do not think that because I really like cats I would like to start a cat-themed collection of decor/clothing/accessories/teaspoons/any combination of these items or others. If you'd like me to have a cat-related thing, give me money and I will buy it myself if I like it. There is nothing I hate more than tacky shit that collects dust, except for maybe Enbridge and/or Stephen Harper. Anyway, now is not the time or place for politics. Moving on...


I just had to include the above photo. She's so fucking cute.

The Timeless Wisdom of George Michael, or, My Offspring Will Need Therapy

While dancing unabashedly to great tunes from such disco-era legends as the Bee Gees and Prince on the "Maximum Party" channel today, baking apple/rum-filled banana bread, I came to a very important realization. That is that, had I children, perhaps this kind of behaviour would verge on child abuse. I'm pretty sure if GP and I had kids, they'd be pretty fucked up. Or hilarious. Or maybe both, depending on your definition of either term.

The ability to let loose, get crazy, and, more importantly, embrace my silly side is one of the things I like most about myself. Of course, I can be pretty uptight sometimes; it's impossible to feel completely comfortable in any situation, but I like to think I'm pretty easy-going in most scenarios. This part of my personality recently came in handy when someone made a pretty inappropriate comment about something I was wearing.

I can't give specifics in case that person finds this blog, but suffice to say they tried to knock down my confidence a notch or two with a comment about how ugly something I was wearing made me look. It was something very silly that I don't normally wear and I was trying it out, just for the heck of it. I knew I'd get some unusual reactions, and I did, but they were mostly smiles or laughter. Thus, I was caught completely off-guard when this person made such a rude and opinionated comment.

The reason it stayed with me is because I want to know the motivation behind it, or maybe I know the reason and I am mystified. Yes, the second one. The insulter (let's name her/him Franklin) has an obvious lack of confidence, so he has to make sure everyone he comes in contact with feels inferior to him. It's really quite sad.

I have a feeling that Franklin really wishes he could just let go and not worry about what other people think so much. I'm so glad that I have that trait and that either my friends do too, or it rubs off on them when they're with me. Let's hope it's genetic so that when I have kids they'll be crazy little underpants dancers like their mother. GP will just have to wait out the craziness elsewhere.

Necessary Essentials

Things I'd Need If I Were Moving to Montreal (more on this at a later date) And Were Getting There By Car And Could Only Take Ten Items (GP is not on this list; he'd be coming with me with his own list, which I suspect would consist mostly of video games and systems on which to play them):

1. The kitten and her accoutrements
2. Cuisinart food processor
3. VitaMix blender
4. Kitchenaid stand mixer
5. Cardigan knitted for me by my mum
6. My great yoga mat
7. Camera (and battery charger; that doesn't count as another thing)
8. Phone
9. My grandmothers' pearls (both sets count as one item)
10. The painting my mum did of an iris

Commentary and/or your list greatly encouraged on this post; I want to know if I've missed anything).

Haikus For You-kus

A few autumnal haikus for your (and my) enjoyment:

Drinking tea inside
Loud raindrops falling outside
I'd rather be here

Wool socks and slippers
Homemade gifts for winter time
Lost in arts of yore

The dogs are anxious
I dread a walk in the rain...
Blue skies spell relief!

And, of course, it wouldn't be a blog post without something kitten-related:

Kitten sleeps deeply
A perfect feline circle
Warm, soft, and purring

A Figment of Your Imagination

GP can't go grocery shopping with me without getting thoroughly frustrated and, oddly, sweaty. Actually, it might not really be odd that he gets sweaty. My grocery shopping style, much like my approach to life in general, is disorganized, indulgent and highly irrational. Some days I will want nothing but pea shoots and falafels. Other times my attention to good nutrition (ha! The kitten just pounced on my typing fingers from afar; what a little scamp!) goes out the window and I will eat an entire wheel of Gorgonzola and a loaf of olive bread for dinner. That's no joke. It has happened more times than I care to divulge.

It's not just my shopping mindset that is frustrating. The reason why GP gets sweaty, as I didn't really fully explain in the previous paragraph, is that I don't even physically approach the shop from a systematic perspective. My travel pattern around the store is an erratic zig-zag. I'll go to the individual sections of the shop many times before leaving, and even after that, I'll probably return because I usually remember what I've forgotten to get as I sit down in my car.

The point of all this rambling would be wholly irrelevant if it weren't for the fact that, in a recent haphazard voyage to the shop, I bought two wonderful looking figs on a whim. I love figs. I love the taste of them, I love the look of them, and I especially love the feel of them. They are much heavier than they seem, but their skin is so soft and fragile. I know what you're thinking, you pervert, and you're completely correct- they do look like that and my description doesn't help.

Here is what I did with my figs:
I cut them both in half, spooned some ricotta on top, spooned some unpasteurized local honey on top of that and then topped the whole thing with walnuts and stuck it under the broiler. This is what they looked like before:











And this is what they looked like after:

Pretty delish.




I actually didn't realize the fruit was in the same position in both photos until I uploaded the photos just now. I must've really been on the ball!

The Scatterbrain Bird Alights

Maybe my repose away from blogging wasn't very brief, but if you know anything about me, you know that I am not one to apologize for not writing on my own blog. So I hope, if you're reading this, you're not here because you thought you'd read some pathetic groveling prose making impossible promises about how I'll never leave you again, dear readers. It is very likely that I will leave you again. Just so you know.

Predictably, much has happened since my last, very sad, post. GP and I had to say goodbye to our dear Friskies. On Friday, July 24th, I took the afternoon off from work so we could hang out together. It was a lovely sunny warm day, so we went outside. She had been hiding under the bed for most of the week, but she knew that this was a special opportunity, so she came out and enjoyed the sun. We sat next to the roses on the edge of the lawn and watched bugs in the grass. Greg also left work early to spend some time with her. Then we took her in to the vet's, where they have a room for goodbyes, painted in soothing colours with a nice little table with soft padding. She was injected with painkillers and I petted her until she fell asleep.

I doubt I'll ever be able to talk or write about her death without crying, but I know it was the right decision. I will always miss her and she'll always have a special place in my heart. I know she'd be happy, too, that GP and I now have a new cat to keep us on our toes. Her name is Reese and she is both a delight and a little beast, at 15 weeks old tomorrow. As I type this, she's half sitting on my lap. The other half is slowly sliding off the sofa as her tiny oblivious body shudders from the depth of her purring. The only thing keeping her on the sofa is my arm. How adorable, she just yawned and stretched! After a few months, it really was time for us to get a new feline friend. Reese is short-haired, so GP has less of an excuse to complain about allergies, although I'm sure he won't let this stop him!

Work is going very well. In my time at the company I've already seen a new person in the same position as me be hired and fired, so I believe I'm doing quite well. Two weeks from today will mark the end of my three-month probation period, at which time you won't have to guess who's going to work in her pajamas. Yesterday the boss man asked me into his office to show me a new advertising tool we're going to be using for our clients. He gave me more instruction on it today and I thought it was going well until I stepped out of his office and realized I had enormous gaping holes in my knowledge and I don't really know how to go about putting together my client's campaign at all. I think he and I have an understanding, though, so I doubt asking for extra help will be an issue.

Another fantastic thing about work: they support my cat-loving ways. I'm not sure whether or not they're just humouring me, but everyone I've shown pictures to (90 percent of the people at work) has ooh'd and aah'd over Reese. The chances that they all call me a crazy cat lady behind my back are pretty good, but I came to terms with that part of myself a long time ago.

Other happenings: my birthday, GP's birthday. We went to Quadra Island to celebrate our aging and had a lovely time, despite our progression into senility (especially GP). My mum made me a cake, but I don't think she realizes my birthday isn't at Christmas, because, well, you can see from the icing. Not that I complained; it was delicious. My garden is still growing, even though I've been mostly neglecting it. When my broccoli raab was still edible, I was using it for killer dishes like the pasta salad to the right, upon which a delectable piece of baked halibut is perched, with pesto from my basil.

I don't want to make any promises, but I have a few awesome blog post topics up my sleeve. So expect more soon. Or not.

Good Grief

I've debated whether or not I should plague my readership (however small it may be) with what is undoubtedly the most difficult thing, emotionally, I've had to struggle with in my short life. I have decided that I definitely should. It is my blog, after all. And you don't have to read this post (although I think you should, because everything I write is gold, naturally).

Friskies has been my friend and confidante since I was 10 years old. Although I was the one who got to choose her rather unfortunate name, I never personally took it upon myself to claim her as my cat. She, however, took it upon herself to claim my bed as hers and so our relationship grew. She watched (actually, maybe napped is the better verb here) while I awkwardly made my way through middle school, high school, and puberty in general. When I came home from university she was always there, ready to provide cuddles and gentle indifference. She got kicked out of the room the first couple times I kissed a boy, and she dutifully stood guard at the door until she was welcomed back. Soon after a somewhat resentful chirp and some annoyingly slow stretching and chin-rubbing on the threshold of the door, she would reliably be right back in her middle-of-the-bed station, purring as though she were part 1969 Ford Mustang, muffler-free.
The only time I've had to deal with anything bad happening to her was when she was six or seven and she had to have a small operation to remedy a bladder issue. Now I have to deal with something of a more sinister nature. She has become increasingly rotund through the middle and bonier in the shoulders and hindquarters. Not long ago her appetite started dropping off, so I made an appointment with the vet. I took her in on Thursday and, after having x-rays done, I was told that there was a mass of some kind in her abdomen. It could be either a tumor on her spleen that has just become very large or a tumor that has formed around her intestines, making digesting food difficult. The former possibility is what we are hoping for, because spleens are superfluous organs for cats. The latter is, in most cases, inoperable. Either way, she is in pain. We won't know exactly what the problem is until an ultrasound is done. Hopefully that will be tomorrow.

So this situation is, understandably I think, the only thing I have been thinking about since Thursday. I've had a bit of time to mull it over and get used to the idea of her not being around anymore, although that is obviously the last thing I want. She has been my friend for so very long and I have been so lucky to have her in my life. In fact, we've been friends for most of my life. Normally not a particularly sentimental person, I am surprised by how many things trigger an emotional breakdown for me. On Friday at work before my shift, I was reaching into the cupboard for a mug. A co-worker came into the kitchen and said "Hi, how are you?" and I burst into tears. He was completely stunned and said, after a pause "Can't find a cup?". I then exploded the whole cat story onto him and he stood there, very kindly, listening to me, likely thinking "Wow, that new girl sure is a fruit loop". I doubt he'll ever ask me how I am again!

Friskies has an ultrasound tentatively scheduled for tomorrow, although I haven't a confirmation heard from the vet's office. She is barely eating anything and today I had to actually place her in her litterbox for a pee because her energy is so low that I was afraid she might not make it. She is definitely not herself. It's a very sad thing to witness, the slow decline of one of your best friends. I don't give a fuck if people think I'm crazy for calling her my best friend. They obviously, and unfortunately, have never had the incredible experience of becoming close with an animal. It sucks that I have to make these kinds of decisions now, and deal with this overwhelming sadness, but if this is the payment I have to make for the unconditional love I have received from her throughout her entire life, I think it's more than worth it.
Please, friends, keep positive thoughts for Friskies in your mind. If you're the praying type, I'm sure she'd appreciate that too.

On the Job

Better late than never to announce to blogdom that I have a job. Yup, I now have a real grown-up person job as a copywriter/search engine optimization expert at a local business that creates websites for real estate companies. I started on June 27th and I'm really enjoying it. There's a lot to learn, but there's always something new to be done, which I can totally appreciate. Plus, they call the "behind the scenes" stuff of websites the "back-end", and I find that absolutely hilarious. Today I brought in pictures of Friskies and GP and me in a little frame to make my desk more homey. I regretted it almost immediately; it's difficult to focus when there's a photo of the most adorable cat on earth staring up at you.

My coworkers are fun. We had Sports Day today (it's a weekly thing) and we played soccer. I suggested starting up a running group and they were completely into it. We'll see how long it is until I've instigated a composting program. It's a very different work environment compared to the last place; they seem to actually like their employees here. There are medical/dental benefits, a gym membership incentive, a new computer payment/loan program, a lunch program (the fridge is completely stocked and we just make lunch with whatever we like) and once a month there's a cake day, to celebrate the month's birthdays. What more could you ask for?! Oh, and there are potlucks every so often, with prizes for most tasty food and best presentation. Needless to say, I'm in it to win it. I think I'll be making lemon meringue cupcakes, with meringue roses to top them. I've already started testing the recipe and I think it's going to blow everyone else out of the water.
It's a crappy photo, but you can still see how pretty they are. I think the only thing prettier than meringue roses are real ones.

General life things have been going smoothly. Not much to report, other than an excellent (albeit drizzly) camping trip to Tofino on Canada Day long weekend. So good, in fact, that after three vigorous washings, my hair still smells like campfire smoke.

My garden is growing at warp speed. I harvested all the broccoli raab (aka rapini, brocoletti, and/or broccolini) yesterday and we had it with dinner today, just steamed. It has so much more flavour when you grow it yourself: broccoli, yes, but with a hint of mustardy spiciness. Man, was it ever delicious. I'm hoping the new shoots come quickly.
There's really no taste like a fresh strawberry straight from the garden, with that shiny tight skin. I can't wait for the similarly sweet taste of the cherry tomatoes I've got growing. They need to get their butts in gear and set fruit already. Same with the sugar snap peas. So much to look forward to!

Floating Islands

Sometimes I feel like spending hours making roses out of meringue. No, really, that's not sarcasm. When one doesn't have a job, one must find ways to fill in the time. For Mother's Day I made a cake for my mum that was "iced" with an entire meringue rose bush. I found this absolutely gorgeous recipe and couldn't resist making it. Unfortunately, I don't have the proper icing tip (mine is too short and stout; must remember to get one very soon), but it still came out beautifully:
I changed the original recipe a bit. It seems like I can't just leave anything well enough alone; I always have to have my two cents. Except for switching up orange for the lemon, I followed the cake recipe verbatim (and wouldn't use it again; it wasn't as fluffy as I thought it'd be), but the filling is orange curd and blackcurrant, instead of lemon and raspberry. It sounds so much fancier than the original! Here's a cross-section:
In the same vein, last night I made iles flottantes on a sea of cardamom-lemon custard with some fresh first-of-the-season organic peaches. I love peaches and I love the way they taste with a little cardamom. Oh hell, I'll say it, I love cardamom with anything. It turned out well!
I only had time to take one picture and it's sideways, unfortunately. After the first picture, the urge to eat it all in one mouthful overtook me and I became powerless against it.
Anyway, it was delicious. Not too sweet, all the textures and flavours worked so well together: the airiness and slight chewiness of the meringue and the firm juiciness of the peaches as well as the smooth creaminess of the custard. I wonder how many batches I can make and eat before GP gets home... My recipe follows, if you're interested. Make the custard first so it can cool; I like it slightly warmer than room temperature. Since the meringues are shaped (as opposed to haphazard blobs), I couldn't poach them as usually done for Iles Flottantes. This way works well, though.

Custard:
4 cardamom pods
6 egg yolks (or five if you spill some down your front like I did)
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cup milk (any kind is fine; I used skim but whole would taste better)
zest of one lemon, preferably un-sprayed
a few drops of vanilla extract

In a medium-sized saucepan, whisk together yolks, sugar and salt. Separately, heat milk and cardamom pods. It is important not to boil the milk, otherwise when it is poured into the egg yolks they will seize and you'll be eating sweet scrambled eggs. When bubbles start forming around the edge of the milk, it is ready to pour into the egg yolks. Whisk slowly as you pour and then place over medium-low heat. Stir slowly and constantly, making sure it never comes to a boil. When the custard has thickened, add the lemon zest and vanilla and set aside to cool while you make the meringue.

Meringue:
3 egg whites, room temperature
2/3 cup superfine sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Whip egg whites until soft peaks form. Gradually (one tablespoon at a time) add sugar until entirely incorporated. Plop the meringue into a pastry bag and pipe into roses, then place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake in oven for 3 minutes; any longer than that and the meringue starts to burn. To get the roses off the parchment, lightly grease a rigid spatula and slide under each flower.

When the meringue has been baked, it's time to assemble the dessert. Slice the peaches and arrange them on one side of the bowl so that they will be visible above the custard. Pour the custard into the bowl, then float the meringue roses on top. Eat it with a small spoon so you can enjoy it as long as possible.

The Burbs

So, it's official, I live in the 'burbs. Yes, they could be the very same ones as in the 1989 blockbuster of the very same name. I think growing up on idyllic and tiny SSI gave me a very romantic idea of what the suburbs were about. Where I lived we didn't really have neighbours. You can't on a 22.5 acre farm. I mean, we obviously had people who lived next to us, but not in the same way I do now. We couldn't just walk across the street to borrow a cup of sugar; we actually had to walk down the hill, over the bridge, and up through the forest. Really. We had no garage and couldn't see our neighbour's house.

The sounds of the place I grew up were as follows: birds, llamas occasionally doing their weird braying when something suspect was afoot, and frogs. The sounds of suburbia, as I've been noticing are: birds and frogs, but also automatic garage doors and lawnmowers. The latter item brings me to the real reason I'm writing this post: lawn care. More specifically: maintenance. More specifically than that, even: push mowers.

GP's mum's gas-powered lawnmower is not working and has not been since we moved in and, since GP has a full-time job and values hanging out with me in his spare time more than fixing lawnmowers (and I wouldn't even know how to go about fixing it if I did), it has been sitting un-repaired for a while. Long enough that the grass grew embarrassingly high and I grew frustrated with it and decided to take matters into my own hands. Little did I know that those very hands would be aching and blistered by day's end. I can write more about this ordeal in a handy how-to format for your future mowing (dis)pleasure.


How to Mow Your Lawn Manually or So You've Chosen Suicide: A Guide

Phase one: Preparation. Prepare yourself as though you are running a marathon. Heed the immortal words of Ice Cube: "[lawn-mowing] ain't a track meet; it's a marathon".

1. Clear out your schedule for the day. If this doesn't take you at least three hours, you're doing it wrong.

2. Fill a water bottle but remind yourself it is only to be used in a life-or-death situation, seeing as if you take a break you will never ever want to get back to it.

3. Make a playlist for your iPod. This will keep you motivated like nothing else. Avoid songs by artists like Sarah Mclachlan and Coldplay. If you're anything like me, I suggest you go for angry gangsta rap or anything by ABBA.

4. If it's a sunny day (which it most certainly has not been for the most part in my part of the world), protect yourself as needed. This goes doubly for my fair fellow frecklies.

Phase two: Work. This part is fairly self-explanatory.

5. Under no circumstances once you start mowing are you to take a break. Not a drink of water, not to check to see if anyone has called, not to bandage up your hand blisters, not for ANYTHING. The only time you stop is if you are on the brink of death, if you finish the job, or if a slow song comes on in your music shuffle. Stopping will make you realize how foolish you are by undertaking this gigantic endeavor.

6. Get into a rhythm. If you're a first timer, like I was, you'll realise there is a definite method to the madness. If you get the blades going at the right speed and the right angle at the right time, you'll be able to cut the longer grass down so you can go over it directly again afterwards. That probably doesn't really make much sense. Oh well. Just don't let your lawn grow to jungle-tastic lengths and you won't have that problem.

7. Silently (or not) curse your neighbours who walk past and do not offer to let you use their motorized mowers. Really, is it so very hard to say "Hey, I noticed you're sweating your tits off and this is taking you hours. You are more than welcome to use my fancy schmancy LawnMower 3000 for the rest of the lawn"?! No, it most certainly is not. If someone had offered I would've even chipped in a few bucks for the gas. Oh well, we'll see who is somehow out of sugar when they come knocking for a cup...

Phase three: PME, or Post-Mowing Euphoria/Exhaustion.

8. Once you're finished, don't bother looking at your neighbours' lawns. Your lawn will not look as good as theirs. Comparing will just make you frustrated. Your lawn will likely look similar to my grandpa's head: bald with a few tenacious bits sticking up that you can't hack down no matter how hard you try.

9. Pry your hands off the mower. They will be curled to fit the shape of the handle; that's perfectly normal. Wrap those mitts around a beverage either hot or ice-cold, depending on the temperature of the day.

10. Get your motorised lawnmower fixed as soon as possible.

Peaks and Valleys

So, I have a half-finished post saved that I wrote a few days ago about all the things I hated about my job and, as luck would happen, I got fired today. Wait, rewind, I'll start from the beginning.

Today I received a phone call from my manager telling me not to come in to work tomorrow because they had hired new people and had training shifts scheduled for them. She said I was to come in on Monday, which was fine with me. Then I phoned her back because I remembered a few dates I wanted to give her far in advance that I would be unavailable. She told me to fill out the form they have for requesting days off and I said that wouldn't be a problem I'd do it on Monday, and to have a good weekend and "bye!". All's well, right?

She phoned back not five minutes later, saying "I don't think this is going to work". I was unsure what she meant. It totally blindsided me. She went on to say "With the time you took off at the beginning and then the time you're requesting now, I just don't think it's going to work". I told her that the time I was requesting now was far in the future and that my volunteering was only once a month. She didn't care; she talked over me and told me how I was to go about collecting my paycheque. I said "I'm sorry it won't work" and all she said was "yeah" and I said "ok, bye". What a bitch.

This leaves me feeling a few different things. The first is shock, because I did well in that job, and I had never been fired before. The second is sadness, because I won't be able to go in there anymore and because I liked some of my coworkers. The third is frustration, because now I have to find a new job without the support of already having one and because I did absolutely nothing wrong.

Here are the reasons I hated that dumb job anyway:

1. Bitchy micromanagers who make me do stupid busy work when I'm already actually doing something useful. You are not better than me because you actually want to work there.

2. After I came back from Edmonton nobody asked me how it was or said "It's nice to see you again" or "We missed you" or whatever. It seemed like nobody noticed I was gone. I don't want to work somewhere I don't feel needed or appreciated.

3. The floor was really hard and my feet hurt like the Dickens after walking around all day.

4. The owners and managers did not trust the employees: there were cameras everywhere and I was told they watch the tape. The employees would be watched and they would be fired if they weren't always looking busy or helping someone. That's bullshit. I want to work hard because I respect my boss and believe in the product being sold, not because I'm afraid of being fired.

5. The pay was shitty. Better than the other stores in the mall (or so I was told), but still shitty.

6. Almost every product they sold was made in China and had a HUGE mark-up. I don't want to have to sell things I wouldn't buy normally.

7. Michael Buble, Andrea Bocelli, Il Divo, and the Hair soundtrack are great and all, but not when you listen to them over and over and over.

8. The dress code was quite strict and hypocritical. We had to wear all black, but we could "accessorize" with white. That meant we could wear a white headband (ew), or white jewelery (ew again) or a white shirt under a sweater, but it couldn't show too much. I once wore a white cardigan and the manager took me aside and told me it was "too much white". Like the customers would even notice or give a fuck. And as for the hypocritical part, the managers could wear grey when they felt like it, and the owner's daughter could wear whatever the hell she liked.

9. There were rules and forms for everything and it was only a small store! I'm not sure a job could be more bureaucratic unless you worked for the government.

10. They didn't recycle or compost. Maybe this should be at the top of the list.

In summation, I am disappointed. Mostly because I want/need to have money. But also because I'm pretty sure my good looks and incredible people skills made my manager feel threatened because she is fat and ugly and comes off sounding phony and condescending when she talks to customers. I'm thinking this probably happened so that I could find something much better. Onwards and upwards. Hooray for positivity!

Priorities

GP and I are moving, or getting ready to, which is why you haven't seen much action on this blog lately. The following are some brief and random updates. Please forgive the shoddy cell-phone photography; I have no clue which box my real cameras are in.

I got a job at a place that sells all sorts of delightful housewares, jewelry and general bibbity bobs. I started on Monday and I like it so far. It is full-time.
It's spring time and my flowers are growing like weeds (haha). The planters on the deck are bursting with pinks, yellows, whites, and purply blues. I love this time of year. The seeds I planted a few weeks ago now are pushing out their true leaves and are almost as excited as I am about the warm weather to come.
Friskies is enjoying more access to the bed. I just can't deny her sweet little face the pleasure of a very comfy nap. It's also a real pain in the ass to climb over the gate at the bottom of the stairs holding a large box of something or other, now that we're moving things. She looks so very regal in this photo.
I went to the UVic grad party, masquerade theme, on the 31st of March. My mask was clearly the most beautiful (and maybe the most creepy) one there. I made it myself!
I am packing the kitchen up today so that we can move everything up to Nanaimo tomorrow and start sleeping there. To give me the energy to keep packing, I made myself an incredible banana almond butter vanilla almond milk shake. The picture is especially awful because it was so effing delicious that when I stopped to take a picture I experienced withdrawal symptoms and started shaking. (Not really). It had half a banana, a large spoonful of almond butter, four ice cubes, a scoop of vanilla protein powder, and enough almond milk (homemade of course) to get the blender to mix it. It was so creamy and yummy and almost guilt-free!
Another delicious treat I made recently was the birthday cake for Amanda a week (I think?) ago. It was impossibly light vanilla Chinese bakery cake (leavened with egg whites only, no baking soda or powder) with raspberries and cream between the layers, iced with whipped cream and then glazed with dark chocolate ganache on top of that. It was, well, incredible. If I do say so myself. And fun as hell to decorate. I might've gone a bit overboard with the leaf piping tip, but I like the pretty daintiness of it. She had never had a cake made for her, so I hope this set the bar high!
Tonight we're having a huge Kim-style Greek salad (Greek salad with chick peas and negligible amounts of onion and REAL olives, not the yucky canned ones) with homemade bread because I didn't feel like going and buying a loaf when I have everything to make one. It's from the Hollyhock cookbook and it has lovely things in it like flax meal and sesame seeds and poppy seeds and oats. I have high hopes for it. I might take a picture and post it, or not. Clearly my priorities do not currently lie with this blog.

Taking a Dump

I know that sounds rude, but I really just mean a dump of photos. Sorry to disappoint if you're into that kind of thing. Lately I've been getting creative with food, pictures of which I'd like to share.
Chili is fantastic for several reasons: dried beans are cheap and nutritious, and chili (and soups) freeze well. This chili was delicious. It had, besides the usual tomatoes and beer and spices, butternut squash, quinoa, corn, carrots, and garbanzo, black and kidney beans. Speaking of delicious and nutritious...
A parrot smoothie. Pear+carrot=parrot. I've been making smoothies like there's no tomorrow because I am now a proud VitaMix owner. In case you're unaware, VitaMixes are extremely powerful blenders, the kind bars and cafes use to crush ice in mere seconds. It makes killer almond milk and blends stringy vegetables like kale into smooth liquids. Most mornings I throw in half an apple, some OJ, spinach, and 1/4 of a banana with some ice and protein powder. I've been using rice protein lately because there's no sour aftertaste like whey, although the texture is grainy.

No blog post would be complete without a cute cat picture:
I was searching and searching for her last night and couldn't find her until Greg went into the bathroom and I heard "Kim...". She is so unbelievably adorable sometimes.

Two more food photos, the first is of homemade sweet potato and spinach gnocchi with tomato sauce, also homemade (the other ingredients I forget, but it was tasty). Sometimes the photos don't rotate, so you'll just have to rotate your head.
Pears poached in white wine and orange juice with cardamom and other spices, with Greek 'gurt:
GP believes I suffer from a legitimate food addiction and I am starting to believe him. He's done a surprising amount of research on it.

In other news, life is going quite well. And by "well", I mean it's moving along at quite a clip. GP and I recently celebrated our two-year anniversary, and I made us a delicious living room floor "picnic" to celebrate:
Tortilla "rolls" with lox, avocado and sprouts, red, black and white quinoa salad with cranberries and other stuff, homemade Raincoast Crisps and goat cheese, Greek spinach salad, and chicken kebabs. Not pictured are the almond cookies I made, served with a blackberry/yogurt sauce.

Job things are starting to move, and GP's mum is moving out of her house soon, which means we'll be able to start moving in soon, which means GP won't have to commute an hour every day for work anymore and which also means I'll be able to have a little garden this summer if I get started right away!

I already have gotten started, actually. Today I dragged GP to Seedy Saturday and bought some seeds I am very excited about: poppies (ha, almost typed poopies), flowering sweet peas (almost typed 'sweat', what is wrong with me?!), sugar snaps, heirloom spinach, 10 ever-bearing strawberry plants (YUM), and indeterminate (trailing) tomatoes. Here's a picture of the latter:
You can't see them, but they're in there! They have to be started inside and transplanted when they're big guys and it's warm enough. I'm very excited about them; they're a variety called "Soleil", developed by the grower I bought them from. They're supposed to be very sweet orange fruits. Sounds good to me! For some reason GP just can't match my enthusiasm about this project, which I don't really understand. I love that I have the power to actually GROW things. I think it's amazing and I don't care how weird or nerdy that makes me sound. These puppies are supposed to germinate in a week to ten days. If I post a picture of tiny green sprouts at that time you'll know what they are. Also, if all these seeds germinate (doubtful), then I will have a great many tomato plants on my hands. Good thing my faithful blog readers like tomatoes....... Right? Are giveaways appropriate for a blog with only twelve followers? Who cares?! Count yourselves lucky.