storm clouds and easy streets

 I wrote this long winded piece about past boyfriends and what I'd like to affectionately call "the asshole" but really I was channelling my inner asshole and as I discovered recently, there's no point so I've reduced it like a fine balsamic vinegar reduction and summed it up a a few morals of the story..

• You can't stand on the shoulders of other to feel tall
• Know when you're being treated badly and when you're doing the treating badly- stop both.
• If you recognize someone is in pain, don't add to it.
• You'll recognize the friends at the end by the one's that helped you along, not the ones that tried to pull you down as they climbed up.
• Love between 2 people is like a river- you're both the water making the effort to get around each rough spot- it's gonna be fun when you get going. If one of you is in a puddle splashing alone- it's just a mess and you'll go home wet and alone.
• Stop trying to swim upstream- that's just for dead salmon.

"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind." ~ Henri Frederic Amiel

urban wasp, New Orleans

I snapped this on some street in New Orleans. I was intrigued by the locals- people who call that strange city home. Did they come there before or after Katrina. Did they loose everything. Was she a local, a vistitor, or a passing through on my way to the fair kind of girl. I never asked. I just watched her for a few minutes from across the street. I liked her look.


In case you're wondering, it's a bag of HK Anderson braided twists in Honey Wheat flavor sticking out of her bag. Interestingly, a search for where you can buy them in New Orleans brought up only 3 Walmarts. For shame on cute girl shopping in Walmart!

next up.. sweaters

I learned to knit again after a 30 year hiatus. I have knit 2 hats and a scarf so far.

I figured if I can master knit and purl, I can master this..wish me luck.

twhoot twhoo

tea & comfort

Grabbed from here full on..it looked WAY too yummy to not repost. Copy, paste and serve with tea.

Cranberry Citrus Walnut Bread
(adapted from Amy Palanjian's family recipe at ReadyMade)

2 limes, zested & juiced
1/2 grapefruit, juiced
Boiling water
2 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped fresh cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Add the lime zest, lime juice, grapefruit juice and enough boiling water to make enough for 3/4 cupful (for me this was just shy of 1/2 cup of fruit juice + the boiling water). Pour into a large bowl. Stir in the sugar and whisk until cool. Add in the egg and give everything a good stir.

Dump in the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and lightly mix until just incorporated. Stir in the chopped cranberries and walnuts and stir until evenly combined.

Oil up a loaf tin and spoon in the batter. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. Remove from oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Remove the loaf from the pan and let cool on a wire rack.

it's not cold, that's my attitude

Ohh.. its' so cold.. 

Burrrr..I can't believe how cold it is..

It snowed?.. in Vancouver? OMG 

Ok.. yes it snowed. Yes, there is ice on my scooter. Yes, it won't start. Yes, the temperature dropped to -5 but honestly.. I have to bite my tongue when people in Vancouver complain about the cold. The grass is green under that snow and the roses are blooming up the road. People still sit on heated patios.

I remember when I was growing up in Alberta..losing my house key and being some unfortunate teenager who dressed inappropriately because it was nerdy to have a parka and mitts and snow boots. So, I suffered in Converse Sneakers and no gloves in the garage praying to God to let me live another day so I could learn my science lesson about wind chill without loosing my toes.

I remember snowstorms that shut down the city. Snow drifts so high that my apartment door had to be pushed on before it would open. You didn't dream leave the house without some serious skin coverage, even if I was going to walk the 5 blocks to the local whatever to relieve the boredom. The nose piercing I had back then would freeze in 20 seconds. The tip of my nose a few seconds after that.

I've waited fruitlessly for buses in blizzards, walked in -30 with a windchill of -400, endured having clothing seasons of special protective clothing and huddled in corners smoking with my fingers going numb. (I don't smoke anymore and one of those pitiful scenes of Edmontonians huddled around a ashtray in the arctic winds was a motivating factor of why to quit).

Thus, when you live in Vancouver and it snows for all of 3 weeks and a cold snap hovers around -5.. I have 4 words to complaints about the cold..

We've got it good. (..well my first 4 words were a little bit more colorful than that).

PS. Alberta was the 2nd coldest place on the planet last Tuesday. Stay warm family.
 

"It's like a witch in a white kitten suit."

We're thinking of changing it's name from Plum to Pesto.

new kitten..Plum

siblings

I've always found multiple cats endearing. Silently envied the 'crazy cat lady' who lives with 9 cats. Been enamored by the bundles of kittens curled up together. Have always wanted to have more than 1 cat. So, on a chance stop by the SPCA, deja vu was in the air when a 5month old kitten was available for adoption and looks suspiciously like the cat I already have.

Yes, she's all white, has pink ears, never makes a sound and has big yellow eyes. Yes she's now mine and no, they're not quite friends.. yet.

baby your things

I stumbled upon a pretty Etsy site- someone recycling vintage tribal fabric like Hmong Baby Carriers and reworking them into the loveliest of bags..aren't they amazing?

Oh yeah.. the 1st one? It's mine..!

past posts

I wrote this on 26 April 2007..

The muffled sound of music can be heard. Just audible, drum beats and bass clap their hands in the invisible air. The tiny white ear buds are instantly recognized. A member of the Ipod army. She sits down next to me on the bus. Grey pant suit noticed as I glanced quickly at the filled space next to me. The bus is sweaty with condensation from the breath of so many riders and the rain falling outside. Umbrellas dripping moisture onto paper shopping bags. Manicured nails clutch the tan leather handbag that almost passed as quality, but there's something secretly cheap about mass manufactured goods to appeal to the gleam of high fashion magazine ad admirers. She wears a fitted grey wool coat, blond hair hitting it softly at the shoulders. I glance at her face. Her make up is neither subtle or heavy but almost seems like a toned down version of a garish night out. She looks like a legal assistant with a dark secret. The aroma of music wafts between us and I ponder if she listens to anything else other than heavy metal.

craft 2

Maybe 5 hrs of knit2, purl 2..x 10 then knit 2 purl 1 and repeat.

 Malabrigo worsted pure merino wool in kettle dyed Frank Ochre.

Here's the pattern I'm following..

Easy Hand Knit Scarf

a kind tale..

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.  She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. 

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.  The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. 

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.  She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you." 

Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.

 If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy. 

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

The origin of this letter is unknown.   

craft

Back when life was simple, I used to spend school breaks on my grandparent's farm. My grandmother would keep me and my sister busy by enrolling us in knitting projects. She worked in the local college and I have memories of sitting in the lobby knitting and purling my way to a pair of slippers. Evenings would be spent under Scottish wool blankets watching TV with my grandmother's clickity clacket knitting ticking off the stitches hummed in the background.

I don't know why I dropped it all these years later. I wish I hadn't though. I could have used something to do with my "devil makes work for idle" hands. I think it was a lack of really cool yarn shops and the non development of bamboo needles. But knitting and crafting has had a resurgence. Knit groups are popping up. Shops with great names like

Purl- NYC
The Knit Cafe- Toronto
Three Bags Full- Vancouver
Lettuce Knit- Toronto

Ewe get the picture... Knitting is cool again and Alpaca is the new wool. What's behind it? I don't know. I desire to get a few steps back from the complexities of 21st century life? I think so maybe. Most of life is quite immediate. Cell phone, emails, texts, the Internet- it all keeps us plugged in to info and ideas in an immediate time frame. Knitting is like meditation with motion and in the end you get a pair of mittens.

And so, I signed up for a class and the next ting I know- 3 weeks later, I've mastered the cast on, cast off, knit, purl, stocking stitch, seed stick, ribbed stitch, basket weave and now circular knitting. I have 3 new pairs of knitting needles and $100 in yarn and now all I want for Christmas is socks.. lessons that is. It was the best thing I've done and I'm enjoying it and every now and then I can transport myself to the living room on the farm and that special air and quiet except for my grandmother's clickity clackets.

congregation

congregation, originally uploaded by jilly71.

I'm very excited to be planning my next photo show at the neighborhood hang out..  Pane Vero Cafe on Commercial Drive. The plan is January. All my lovely prairie photos and maybe an art installation.

just hit the puck in the net

 I'd busted my ass over something. I think I remember it vaguely.. I was about 10. We'd been instructed in school to decorate a shoebox for a picnic. The idea was to pack a lunch in your decorated shoe box and some lucky fella would pick your shoe box and the sun would shine through the clouds on a biblical day while you ate your lunch on the grass while blue birds chirped in your ears.

My grandiose plans didn't come to fruition and I was let down and disappointed. I think it set an early tone for the concept of goals. What was the point of setting them if for all your hopes and dreams and skills they didn't come true? An early experience coupled with the instinctive reaction of "what's the point" set deep into a brain chasm.. "well.. that was pointless". 

Sounds dreadful and dire doesn't it. I suppose I was a rather dreadful and dour child as well. But it set a tone for the concept of goals.. "Don't you have goals Jill?". I'm not kidding- I would feel perplexed by the MEANING of the word 'goal'. Like it was a touchdown. A goal? A score? 1 point for me, 0 for ....I remember being asked.. "where would you like to be in 5 years or 10 years" and I literally thought at a young age.. how can you even decide that.. what's the point when a car could speed around a corner and schmuck you.

I'm afraid since some pivotal moment of early failure.. I've put off the concept of "goals". I have to restructure it in my head as a "I'll try this out for a while" concept. As thought, if I put a period to the sentence, I'll erase the paragraph.

Nonetheless- I understand the concept of working towards something, albeit vaguely and I give it a go now and then.

Today is Nov 1. I'm trying out a few things. I'll tell you about them later. For now.. Idea #1- is to participate in National Blog Posting Month.