freezing rain today on the burning bush seeds

parental posts

I've had these seemingly random draft posts collecting dust on here. Or, maybe they've just been fermenting. Hopefully nothing explodes. I've decided to squeeze them all together and see if something gels.


I have a couple of on-line friends who are at a younger stage of parenthood. When I read their blogs, I do a number of things: quietly smile and nod first of all... it's amazing how similar things are sometimes no? It also brings back memories of my own, and they feel further away with each passing year. It also shines a light on just how much has changed. How much my children have grown. Yet amazingly, I haven't aged a bit!!

Just this weekend I felt it: another slight apron string snapped. A very subtle one, no big milestone happened, I just felt a ping.

as an aside: I solumnly do swear, that if I ever become a Grandmother: I will keep my big mouth shut, my nose out of their business, my opinions to myself, help as they see fit... etc etc etc. My Mom and I do not have a good history, but if there's one thing she's done amazingly well is to help how I've needed help and keep all her opinions to herself. I know what she thinks about things (at least, I think I do) but she has never, ever given me grief about my child-rearing. wow, something positive about my Mom... think I'd better share this one with her!

"You need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father."  -- Tod, in Parenthood, 1989

I would change 'father' to 'parent'. Cuz I've seen a fair share of asshole mothers too. Actually, given that I've dealt with more mothers than fathers I'd say I've seen more maternal assholes than paternal.

I have had this quote run through my head too many times to count. I find it amazing that there are so many wounded children walking around in grown up bodies, messing things up for the next generation.

Except that: I ultimately believe that we humans are an incredibly resilient species. I chose to believe that - even though I see the asshole behaviour - we human peoples have an amazing capacity to also heal. And I may not see that healing behaviour.



What It's Like Being a Teen Girl
I think my sister referred to this one on Facebook (?), about the time when a teen suicide made headlines here in Canada.
I've been lucky enough to not have such negative experiences, but I sure have heard a lot of this kinda thing from other friends. Makes me livid.



ok, so let's end on a postive note, shall we?
10 Habits to Stengthen Your Relationship With Your Child
Can I brag a bit here? I do... all of these... seriously! well, except for all that f&*king hugging. I've read a lot of parenting articles and books and websites; this is the first time I've seen in print what I believe is the best way to live with kids. Dealing with the emotions behind the behaviour - oh! so true!! Especially when they get older; mine are teens now and this article seems to be geared towards parents who are still reading articles (grin). The parenting sites and magazines are loaded with stuff for younger kids; once they get to be the age that my kids are... not so much. Or: it deals with all the bad behaviour and how to fix it in my age range.


OK, I think I have mined the parenthood angle. At least for me. This post feels like a jumble of tenuously connected thoughts. Look around at those links above, let some things ferment in you too and see what comments bubble up.

And it feels like it needs some photos, but I've been searching for appropriate ones for a couple of weeks now and nothing is making itself obvious... so I'm just going to click publish and move on.

everything old is... new?... again...?

shortbread swirls on left and ice cream cone cupcakes on right

I saw these photos recently on Pinterest. Both with comments that showed that the Pinners were very impressed with these yummies. Thing is: my Mom has been making these since I was very very young. And she's in her 70s now. When I see them my inner teen cringes ever so slightly...

They've gone full circle: once impressive, then dated and now reborn as cute!

But fellow Pinners: please... leave the Velveeta right where it is.

the price of modernity, or just another 1st world problem

I’m so confused. 

We recently gifted an iPhone5 to the 15 yr old son. And an iPhone4S to the 13 yr old daughter. Still feeling guilty for these; like I’m spoiling them, but it turned out to be the best choice for what we needed as a family. Move along.

So, yeah now we have four iPhones for four people. All with the same carrier. 

The carrier also supplies us with our internets, cable TV, and home phone. Do we need a home phone now...?  Ummm, yeah. The grandparents... not to mention telemarketers... but we hardly answer it anymore! My criterion: if I don’t recognize the number or name, I don’t pick up. 

I have never liked picking it up. I am the oldest of three girls born close together and yet 

“THREE teenaged girls in the house; why can NONE of you pick up the phone??!” was heard frequently during those teen years.

Jan 2011 I called and upped our internet bandwidth from whatever measly amount it was to 60 GB. Buddy on the phone says “did you just get Netflix?” yeah: it came to Canada, was free for the first month, and I gorged on MadMen. 

As of Sept 2012 - count with me, that’s... 21 months - we’re up to 250GB. And that my friends is the highest tier, the mostest bandwidth they offer.

Now, in Nov, and the daughter’s phone has blown through the 1GB data plan on our family plan. So that needs to be addressed...

Then there’s the TV. We increasingly feel like we don’t watch it that much, but I’ve grown up watching TV shows on, umm, the TV. And my husband still watches the nightly news. I frequently join him. He also still reads a morning paper too...

I do now watch some shows on the computer, and YouTube plays more in the house than the TV. But if we bailed on cable and went the AppleTV route, I can’t imagine the re-organization it would take. Not to mention the maintenance. As it is I don’t keep up with the IT demands of the various individuals in this home organization what with an iMac, two MacBooks, two iPads, and the aforementioned iPhones. There’s a couple of PCs thrown in for balance too...

This is changing so fast, my head is spinning. Will someone please figure this all out - cable or streaming, Beta or VHS, BluRay or HD - and then let me know? Because this arrangement has to change. If it continues like this much longer our monthly technology bill will approach our mortgage payment.

Shocking, no? I'll wait while you finish gaping. That's what my husband did with me when he made this comparison recently.

And for the life of me, I cannot figure out how to find answers to these problems... my other Mummy friends with kids the same age haven't 'spoiled' their kids like this. Or they're not online as much as me so their needs lie elsewhere. 

Anybody else confused??

staidHome

I think the first time I was required to create a username was when I joined Ravelry in 2007. At that time I was coming to grips with the fact that I was probably never returning to the paid workforce. I had prepared for, longed for... the time when I would be Working. I loved my jobs: three in six years, all in research labs doing basic benchwork. Something - the only thing - that I had ever wanted to do.

After I had decided to embark on the adventure of parenthood, it became clear to me that there was no reason to return to work. Other than personal fulfillment - which yes is a reason in and of itself, but not enough to potentially throw many things into a tizzy around me. Mostly me.

My Mom had stayed home. She didn't seem to like being at home. My absolutely completely and utterly worst fear was to end up like my Mom. Stuck. At home.

And yet what were the Fates throwing me? Just exactly that. Breathe in, Breathe out.

So when I was staring at the screen tapping finger against cheek I tried to think of one concise expression to sum me up. I didn't go back to work... I: Stayed Home.

Then, a play on words. Staid: sedate, respectable, and unadventurous. One image that pops uninvited into one's head when picturing a SAHM. That ain't me. But sticking my tongue in my cheek and using that word would be very much me. Capitolized the H just cuz.

So there you have it.


addendum: I miss Science. Less now than 10 years ago, but I do still miss it. However I am 100% sure that being staidHome is the right thing for me. There is no bitterness in me, and I am NOT my Mom.

expectorant

My sister beat me to this blog post...
(I suppose if you've clicked over from her blog, you can now compare who is the more screwed up. I vote for me...)

Susannah's weekly week-end offers included this link, and I thought 'hmm, I wonder what my over-expectations are?'



I am supposed

to be more mentally stable
to be thin, effortlessly
to (like to) eat vegetables
to (like to) ski
to put things away
to make my kids eat properly
to be an artist
to have everything organized


Let's change that, shall we?

I will

congratulate myself on my present excellent mental health
be comfortable in this skin, reside in my body
appreciate my appetite
celebrate my family's skiing ability (from the spa. heh heh)
tidy, but not expect pristine
educate my kids on refueling themselves
be an artist, of sorts
embrace messy

That's better. Be your own best friend...

collectively sorry

I heard this opening essay on one of my favourite shows last week. I stopped in my tracks, standing stock still in the middle of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. Breathing and listening. And, it's stayed with me. And I've discussed it with my own teens, trying to not sound absolutely completely freaked out. Breathing and listening again.

I don't know if this story has made it past the Canadian border, but in a way I hope it has. You can google her name and find the original video if you wish: I warn you, you may become nauseated. I did. Apparently her Mum has said that the video should remain available... that this is what her daughter would've wanted. 

I thought the second half of his essay hit it... bang on:

... the suggestion will reek of arrogance and denial, 

and it is that denial that may be our greatest battle in this moment

as if a previous generation’s difficulties

should form the prescription

for inaction and dismissal now,

as if we don’t have the evidence 

that this is a new kind of epidemic

  ~  quite the opposite  ~

shame on those amongst us 

who would misunderstand the way

in which the world has changed

yes we have suffered bullying in the past,

(many of us know that all too intimately)

but we did not live in a world of social media...

of Facebook taunts that can invite 

a pile-on of participants from around the world

that will live in infamy,

in online pages that are near impossible to extinguish,

that can follow a young teen to any computer screen,

no matter how far her family moves to stem the tide,

no matter how hard they try to hide

  ~  on the contrary  ~

we should not rest 

until all of us together -- as a national community --

take on the bullies who will try to tear us down

we should not rest 

until any and every teen understands that

it is okay to be 

unique, 

themselves, 

different -- or the same --

immune from societal blame

we should not rest

how I stay amused*, happy appy style

Last week I was sitting inside at the pool and saw this stand of burning bushes just outside:

original, taken with iPad3

The sun was just setting behind the building so I wasn't sure if I had enough light but I knew that if I waited for better conditions during next week's swim practice there was a good chance the leaves would be down and I'd have missed a creative opportunity. I love colour, and the fall display this year on my part of the globe has been unsurpassed. So I hussled outside to capture some shots with my iPad3 and iPhone4.

original, taken with iPhone4

original, untouched, taken with iPhone4

Hipstamatic app taken on iPhone4
(John S. lens, no flash)

Percolator of Hipstamatic

I really like the Percolator app; ones of my favourites. I processed the above image using my iPad3, sitting on the couch beside my husband during the evening news. There's three dials on the app, and each of those has multiple choices. The combinations for end image are too numerous to keep track of... so I'm not entirely sure how the above image came to be. I just noodle around until I think 'ooo, purtee' and save. 

original, taken by iPad3

ShakeItPhoto app

The ShakeItPhoto mimics a Polaroid, and even goes through the whole click, whirr and develop in front of your eyes. You can shake your iPhone/iPad to speed it up, but you don't need to. (and: you're not supposed to shake it like a Polaroid either I've since learned... but that's another blogpost when I reveal that I've purchased a secondhand SX-70 Land camera and film from The Impossible Project)

Goes without saying that I really like my iPhone and iPad for photography. They both take fantastic photos, and the retina screen on the iPad3 is phenomenal. I still use both my Sony CyberShot and Pentax DSLR (my CyberShot is in my purse at all times)... but for ease of use, and the fact that I've always got my iPhone with me I love my iPhone. And my photo apps.   

screenshot

photography icon in the upper left corner includes: Darkroom, Phototreats, Labelbox, Black's uploader app, Diptic, LEGO Photo, Percolator, Flickr, Actioncam, PhotoToaster

not included in screenshot: ShakeItPhoto, MarbleCam, ActionShot, SloPro, ProCam, Fisheye Pro, Bokehful, Squaready, Hueless, 

hunh, that's about 30 photo apps... just about what I thought I had...

Most of the time I just snap a pic, it saves to Camera Roll and then I can import it later into whichever app I feel like. However you can't do this with Hipstamatic, it requires you to take the photo within the app.

I've aquired many of my photo apps after seeing docpop's on instagram. Other photomuses: Daily Dose of Imagery, Blurb.

I suspect this blog post will be continued in further installments...

*(Alternate Blog Post Titles: How the Laundry Piles Up, Why My Dust Bunnies Have Formed a Union, How I Trained My Dog to Self-Walk, Sleep is for Wusses, Why No One Gifts Me Houseplants Anymore)

will suffer for ca$h. no, not really...

My 15 yr old son received an award today. Two awards to be precise, but the second one is the one that caused such hilarity for me. 

He made the honour roll last year (but the awards ceremony was today), and since he was in the first group up to the stage, and his name is near the beginning of the alphabet he was the fifth kid (of about 400... million) across the stage to receive this first award. I dutifully video recorded it since my husband couldn't be there, turned the camcorder off and sat there thinking now what? 

I seriously contemplated sneaking out. My kid's done, all I was doing was sitting and clapping. But, I was good... I thought about how the other parents would feel, me bothering them to excuse myself exiting the row. It was one hour out of my life; surely I could sit and enjoy the celebratory vibe in the auditorium.

An hour later, we're nearing the end as it's the last of the special awards  phew  and I'm mentally already out of the school when they announce my son's name again. For a split second I process it as "huh, they just called someone who has the same name..." before I realize that he's won another award! Surprise!

I scramble to get the camcorder turned on and barely manage to capture him receiving this unexpected extra award. For 'achieving academic success while handling challenges'. (?)

Afterwards, in the lobby:

"Wow! Congratulations... did you know you were getting that one?"
"No..."
"Huh... what did you get it for?"
"I have no idea...!"

We both burst out laughing.

He has had some anxiety issues in the past, but they were very much under control last year. I leave the school grinning, mentally shaking my head. Definitely not a helicopter mom, I think.

When he gets home from school he tells me that another student told him that this award usually comes with money. He looks in the envelope that came with the plaque and sure enough there's a cheque for $200!

When I texted my sister the news she responded:

Suweeet! People who overcome challenges deserve cold, hard cash. 

moonset

forked path

toadstools
(big enough to shelter an
entire village of faeries!)

autumn colours in Quebec

foot stool
(no?)

working on the toboggan run
before the snow comes

sharp pain

sometimes I have memories

that I simply cannot reconcile:

sitting here at the pool

thinking about when I took

lessons at the Y,

younger than my daughter is now

having to fight for my life

in the corner of the pool,

Mom knitting by the side

just as I am now.

sometimes I feel nauseous

and other times - like now

I have this almost palpable

achy chest pain.

it is overwhelming...

and I can’t seem to match

the person she was then

to who she is now

most of the time
this sharp pain is kept
secure and hidden inside me
and then I have times - like now
when I find myself
with cheeks wet
by the side of the pool

remember what is important to you

[source: orientaloutpost.com]

remember what is important to you:
jot it down, record a voice memo, keep a memory of it somewhere somehow

remember what is important to you:
is it stuff? travels? feelings?

remember what is important to you:
perspective... it's all about perspective isn't it

remember what is important to you: not your husband, or your best friend,
or your community... what is important to you...

why I don't colour my hair (anymore)

There's talk in my circle of authenticity, living life whole-hearted... and yet I don't understand why everyone (everyfemaleone) is not being their authentic self...? how can one be themselves if they have fake hair colour...

wow, that's simplistic huh? (ok, and a bit judge-y)


For me: I was fed up. The kicker was when I read online how one woman kept mascara with her at all times so she could fix her roots in the washroom. Much like I quit a popular diet -- >ahem< lifestyle management -- company when they advocated counting each stick of sugarless gum (5cal), that was what did it for me. No way was I about to start getting that persnicketedy.

oh, come on! it was 1989...

I have curly hair, so I don't have a part and thus no skunkline of regrowth, but I have been going gray since my teens so after 18 years of colouring the gray away I was starting to see more gray regrowth than I felt comfy with. But fussing that much? nuh uh. I find having to reapply lipstick too tedious sometimes...

So six years ago I let it go au naturelle. Telling myself that I knew where my fake hair colour formula was and could return to it if I wanted. No biggie.

Except I haven't looked back, and I am more comfy now than I ever was. I've never been a primper, so I have a fairly basic routine. And I follow the Curly Girl approach to taking care of the tresses: cleansing my hair usually only once a week with mostly just conditioner (aka the No Poo approach to hair maintenance). Blow dry on occasion, always with just the diffuser and never completely dry. Very often I just clip my hair up wet, sleep on it and in the morning remove the clips and I'm off! And I haven't used a brush or comb on my hair in years. I just use my own two hands.

ps :: I'm not dissing authenticity 'n stuff, I'm in complete and total agreement with Brene Brown and her work... sometimes it just seems strange for people to wander around declaring "this is the real me!" when it's not, completely, y'know? and yeah, I guess the same could be said for makeup (yes, I wear makeup) but somehow that doesn't seem quite the same.

What do you think? Could you go gray...?


edits and further thoughts:

[my husband just read this and admitted that a fellow dogwalker asked him last week where his Mum was since she hadn't seen me out walking our dog in a while...]  8D

[which then reminded me of when we were car shopping 16 years ago and the car salesman asked if I was planning on buying the car for my son, gesturing to my husband nearby]

[which goes to show that it wasn't due to my hair colour, but due to the fact that my husband looks far younger than his years... see photo below... he's actually older than me!]

he's 27 here!

Sunset Wraparound Epiphany

I'm planning on frogging a sweater. And I'm looking forward to it! I belong to a loose-knit (HA! ha ha ha....) group of Fabric Artists - there are knitters & crocheters, weavers, spinners and quilters that show up at the monthly meetings. We started out years ago in a coffee shop but the group grew, and so we've expanded to a more permanent space. (a church hall)

Sunset Wraparound, in progress

I started this particular sweater in 2007. I knit fast and furious for about 8 months, got about 80% done and then couldn't stand its insulative properties during the summer and put it aside. It was almost full size, and that much Alpaca on your lap will make you sweat no matter what.

And since then it's lagged. Last year I made a decision to not feed my yarn habit anymore, and use what I have in my stash to create. Pulled the Sunset Wraparound out and kicked my butt in gear.

While I was trying it on a couple of months ago to measure some things I had a passing thought

"wow, this is kinda itchy against my bare skin"
"but that's OK, I'll just wear a tshirt underneath"
...

"wow, this is kinda warm"
"hunh, and with a tshirt underneath I'll be hot a lot... and"

 ~~ here come's the epiphany ~~

"... I'll probably never wear it"

???!!!

What is it with epiphanies? one minute I'm happily planning how to finish off the sweater, and then bam out of nowhere am hit with a realization. Where was that thought in 2007??

So, it's coming apart. I'm bringing it to my next Fabric Artists night and am going to share the destructive joy.

impressions in waxing nostalgic

Just heard that Sam Sniderman (ie Sam the Record Man) passed away.

This summer we took a weekend trip to Toronto, and I walked along Yonge St. where his store used to be. I actually didn't realized that the building had been levelled after being sold to Ryerson University. I hope the students who will one day wander through their new building feel the vibe that will linger. Ryerson has his storefront sign -- iconic oversized vinyl platters -- in storage. Hopefully they'll find a way to use it fittingly.

In our local media there's been a lot of nostalgia for this store, more now than when it closed it seems. I too have thought about my weekend trips to downtown from my home in the suburbs. How I almost took this kind of experience for granted: buying an import vinyl LP record. I say almost because I knew that one of the advantageous of living in a Big City was that I had access to a store such as this. One that could carry the obscure, the one-of-a-kind... and in my case, the Import. During my 80s it was British Imports.

But I would never have been able to foresee a future where such a successful store would've closed. (And I read science fiction -- I thought about What the Future Would Look Like.)  Statement of the obvious: music consumption has changed so much!

Now those same records that I saved up for, planned the Trip Downtown for, coveted as precious goods...? those songs accompany me on my grocery meanderings up and down the aisles. My oh-so-cool alternative imports are now elevator Muzak.

Music and nostagia seem to be a theme this week. I had difficulty reading this blogpost from all the nodding my head was doing in agreement (hell I've had an almost identical post sitting in my head for ages!).

Nostalgia reigned supreme at the mall recently while shopping with my 13 yr old daughter. She bought a cowl-necked sweater, surrounded by bright neons. Slouchy boots. I even saw a shoulder pad!! Don't worry; I looked away quickly, averting my eyes.

But: I warn you Fashion Industry... you even try to bring back Mom Jeans?? Forget the Arab Spring, the Occupy Movement protests... these riots would dwarf them. It would get ugly.

7 lessons from my dog

When someone arrives, run to the front door to greet them.

If someone is willing to rub your belly, it doesn't matter how silly you look... just get comfy.

At the end of a long day, nothing beats a cuddle on the couch.

Waiting patiently while your dinner is prepared is far more productive in the end than whining for it.

Taking your collar off at the end of the day... one of the best feelings!

Regular grooming is essential. It is a hassle though...

Getting out of the house for a nice long walk does a body good, both physically and mentally.

Blaze on the dock at Bird Lake

fcuk

I stopped swearing when my firstborn looked like he was becoming aware of his surroundings. Which even now at 15 years old isn't all that obvious... rim shot....

Anyway, I don't recall swearing a lot before I became A Mom. But I know I stopped.

When my son was in grade 1, so about six years old, a Lebanese boy joined his class. He knew no English, but wow did he learn quickly! A couple of months later, the after school group was tearing around the play structure, Moms talking on the benches. His older sister picked him up from school, but her English wasn't very good. As this boy raced by where I was standing he exclaimed "get-the-fuck-outta-here!". All smeared together like that: obviously learned phonetically.

Conversation stopped, dead. We looked over to his sister but she didn't react. Eventually one of the other Moms pulled him aside and explained to him that those words weren't good words to use (or something like that), and we all moved on. Giggling inside, truth be told.

There is power in those words, culturally based. I can swear in Quebec French, know one German cursive... but it justs doesn't feel as cathartic as letting loose a blue streak when I've stubbed my toe - again - on the corner of my bed in the middle of the night.

I happened to be using the German cursive when we were travelling through the UK in 2009, so I could swear safely around my 11and 10 yr old when I realized that the table next to us had a family of German diners at it. Who had heard me, and paused slightly in their conversation and glanced over to our table just every so slightly. Shit.

You know how they say that having kids makes you see your world through new eyes, right? And sometimes it also makes you question just why something is the way it is too. Like swearing. Once you get past the social impropriety they're just words.

Mine heard them on the playground at recess, that's where they learnt them they said. So years ago we had a discussion regarding the usage of the cursive. What the words mean ("ewwww"), what purpose those types of words serve* and when and where to use them. Or not use them (like around their grandparents cuz that'll only bring me grief). I think this is one of my favourite aspects of being a parent: questioning the status quo, why things are the way they are. Something I've been doing my whole life.

*a while after our initial conversation (and first of many), we saw an episode of Mythbusters. They tested the theory that swearing helps you deal with pain. And they declared it Confirmed.

a surprise in the cupboard

The milk, incorrectly stored I believe. Found this morning, and I'm guessing put there last night by a very tired family member...

occasionally ugly

We've been going camping for eight years now. Six sites together, about twenty people (all family), the last week of the summer.

We books sites months before so we can get them all together, where we want them. Which is right across from the comfort station: showers and flush toilets. When we started the kids were all young enough to require chaperones for the trip to the toilet. (now it's the older ones - the generation ahead of me - who need to be close in the middle of the night) >smirk<

I like camping. Grew up on it, did some back woods canoe trips as a teen and 20something. This week of car camping isn't really my idea of what camping is... it's more like living like you do at home but with a dirt floor. Especially since now you can buy just about anything for your campsite... even an propane oven.

But the rest of the gang that I hang with for this week... well, let's just say that most feel the need to have a daily shower. The idea of not having one and all the gels and smells that go with it everyday is enough to make some shudder. Me? ... not so much. As a matter of fact, I didn't trek over and queue for a shower the entire week! We were in the water every day, and two evenings it was so hot that the very last thing I did was lie back, floating in the lake while admiring all the stars. How often do you get a chance to do that?

Now, I really did appreciate that first shower back home. Mere hours after we'd pulled into the driveway. But there was something about staying 'dirty' while camping. I'm cringing, but at the risk of sounded too crunchy granola... it somehow felt more organic to clean up by soaking in a lake and not sudsing with smells.

Then I read this post today and I think I figured out why I chose to stay organic. I was appreciating my version of being ugly.

time, never enough

I decided to play along with the @shuttersisters on instagram this month. Today's prompt was time.

Hunh. Well now, THAT'S appropriate...! I thought. Because this morning - day two of the new school year for us - time was the one commodity that just didn't seem to be available enough.

Had to drag them both out of bed this morning, even though both of their alarms were actively trying to alarm them awake. Teens, sheesh. (which they have become, despite assuring me repeatedly when they were younger that they'd NEVER become a one of those nasty beings they derided back then... everything from graffiti to global warming: "tsk - TEENagers!")

One's got a lovely rhinovirus busy trying to escape his nose repeatedly and says his throat feels like it's lined with sandpaper... the other's wardrobe is sadly lacking on anything to wear. All I want to do is wade through the camping gear waiting to be washed in the kitchen to get to the coffee maker...

Then, just mere minutes before it's time for them to push off, one informs me that the clock in her classroom is broken and it's driving her nuts. She rushes around to find one of her working watches but is unsuccessful. Probably because she - like most teens - doesn't use a watch anymore but tells time with a cell phone (or iPod touch in her case). As do I, I must admit.

So she ended up borrowing my necklace. 

camp grub

pancetta, fried leftover-from-last-nights-raclette organic red potatoes, eggs

(no, I'm not posting this pic on instagram)

last night was moonless
the stars were abundant
Deneb, Altair, Vega ...
then four shooting stars
one spiky-pointed ISS fly by
(so close, can almost see the solar panels
or so it seems)
no Iridium Flares,
buts lots of satellites
traversing

two -or was it three? - owls gossiping
Who? Who?
and one surprised raccoon
trying to get at the hummingbird feeder

this morning is cold enough for long pants
my legs can feel the impending closure
of this summer

(or two)

Toronto sure had some cool trough sinks... this ones's at the Eaton Centre.

good morning, Willow

beside Hope Garden
Kilborn Allotment Gardens

me

ghost sign

G.A. Snider
Photographer

from a plaque attached to the building (132-138 Bank St):

"The corner building, designated as a heritage building by the City of Ottawa, is a good example of late 19th century commercial architecture. Built in 1891 by William Cousens, its first tenants included a grocer, a shoe store, a florist, and a photographer, G.A. Snider, whose advertising sign is still visible. The Facade illustrates the importance of a corner site through the use of high quality masonry construction and decorative brick, stone and terra cotta. Its exuberant mix of Queen Anne and Italianate styles typifies the expansionary mood of the 1890s."

day lily

funhouse

we are all made of stars

fountain at the Eaton's Centre

CN Tower

Blaze, our PWD who is almost 3 yr old

les kids in 2006

Yarn Bangles

fore!