Oh, I'm so happy that this project is finally done... just in time for the last of the cool spring rain and fog! I've been knitting away (slowly) at this beautiful Diamond merino since last September, and in spite of the endless garter stitching and careful counting, I am SO glad I stuck with it. Now I match the lilac bush at the bottom of the garden, to boot.
My list of UFOs (un-finished objects) is steadily shrinking... and family and friends have several new pieces to wear and enjoy. Currently, I'm still working away at the hot pink bolero, and have picked up two new projects: a ripple scarf made of lightweight ribbon, and a short-sleeved cotton pull-over in a beautiful pastel stripe... Let's just see if I can get THOSE finished before Christmas, shall we???!
Would you believe that while making my rounds of the blog-o-sphere, "DREARS" was the little code word I was required to type in order to make a comment on my own blog this morning??
Fitting, I must say.
For dear readers, it has been RAINING here. With a vengeance. Heck, I think that even VANCOUVER has had it better in the weather department than we have had here, in my little corner of Ontario.
I complain... while being mindful that in a matter of just a few short weeks, I expect that my garden will be overheated and parched, baking under a summer sun. My rain barrel will likely be empty by then, and I'll be lying on the crunchy, brown grass out back, straining up at the sky in the hopes of seeing one fluffy, promising little cloud.
I only wish that I could send some of our current weather conditions over to the good people of Northern Alberta this week... There, wildfires burn out of control, destroying everything in their path. While evacuees
are apparently safe in shelters, I can only imagine the anxious agony they are feeling today, as they await news of whether they have any homes to return to. Several summers ago, I had the good fortune to be the guest of one of my best friend's parents at their beautiful log home, three hours north of Edmonton. The area is one of the best kept secrets in our country-- it was nothing short of heaven to relax for ten days with some of the finest people of my acquaintance, in the beautiful lake district, at the enormous log cabin and garden that they designed and built themselves. Today, I'm praying for them, as eighty forest firefighters depart Ontario to join the team battling the blazes out West.
y renovated, during this period of being forced indoors. I've stripped ancient, textured wallpaper off of walls, and had to re-plaster and sand down the works. In spite of wearing all manner of protective masks, goggles and clothing, the dust that somehow accumulated in my hair was so thick, I had to book an appointment with my hairdresser. She dutifully scrubbed at the gook and rinsed it all out for nearly half an hour, to get me back to my regular appearance. Disgusting, yes. But the head massage was much appreciated!! Once the painting was done, I stripped and refinished the dark wood wainscotting on the lower part of the room. Even the fireplace surround was refurbished, and the whole effect is such an improvement, it hardly looks like the same place. The three solid weeks of hard slog was so worth it. The room was probably last decorated when the basement was renovated in the late 1980's, and I fancy that I've managed to drag it into the new millennium!
s I felt when my children returned to school (and I did not). We had an old Sterns and Foster pull-out couch that we acquired with the house, since it was so heavy, it could not be lifted and manouvered up the basement stairs when the former residents moved out. This old couch was comfortable, functional, but pathetically ugly. (So ugly, I couldn't even bring myself to take "before" pictures.) Suffice it to say that it was striped in the shades of several very badly-made pea soups. Disgusting. When I was home in Stratford at the end of last summer, I lucked-out and purchased about a dozen yards of rather lovely velvet upholstery fabric in a muted colour... The whole project turned out remarkably well. Upholstery isn't very difficult, as it turns out. The most challenging part is removing the old fabric carefully enough that it can be used as a template for the new pattern pieces. Once this is done, pretty much everything else can be managed with the help of a good, sturdy nail gun. (Those of you who have been reading awhile will remember my great love of power tools...) The "new" couch cost me approximately $70, including nails, new batting, and decorative tacks.
It IS May, believe it or not... and sooner or later, the sun will shine, and those knee-high weeds outside will be ripe and ready for yanking out of the ground. The rain and chill has kept me from being tempted to visit my favourite garden centre and blow the wad on bedding plants that would only die of cold, if I were to violate my mother's strict guideline, "NOTHING before the end of May!!" When that time finally comes, the dirt will fly, let me tell you!
It's that itchy time of year again.
some of my personal knitting shame in my last post. Although I've been steadily working away to finish a bunch of the projects-- I actually completed three projects in two days last week-- I have decided to release myself from some knitterly guilt. I actually FROGGED (as in RIP-IT, RIP-IT... OUT!!!) three other projects, as well. And do you know what??? Because I was really not enjoying those projects, the process of ripping out all those thousands of stitches was actually therapeutic. It felt GOOD!! That hideous tam, the blue pull-over, and the pale green summer sweater are HISTORY, people. Now, I can concentrate on a few things that will give me good feelings. FYI: My mother's sweater? Was not one of those frogged. Hell, no one's THAT good at conquering guilt.
2. I purged my facebook friends. Yes, I admit it-- I'm on facebook. At first, I signed up in order to keep an eye on my teenager, who was also dipping her big toe into the pool of cyberspace... And, a good thing, too-- there have been more than a few occasions upon which the Big Bad Mother has had to step in and curtail a few inappropriate comments from Child Number One's "circle" (needless to say, those kids have been notified and duly "blocked"). However, when I went back to school last year, I discovered that facebook was THE most convenient way in which to communicate with my colleagues, most of whom averaged about twenty-two years of age. We were able to instant-message one another, and the ability to share information quickly and conveniently was hugely beneficial. However. Now that I am actively seeking employment, I do worry about having too much of a "presence" on the world-wide web. Besides, what twenty-two year old do YOU know really cares that a 40-something-year-old woman is spending the day doing laundry, car-pooling the kids, and scheduling endless trips to the orthodontist?? Not very many, I can tell you that. Most of my former classmates can do without me-- and if they need me, they have my email address. Only my nearest and dearest need to see my facebook status: because YES, I AM THAT BORING. 
not-- because it resembles the closest thing to Armageddon that I ever wish to see. It is a combination of late 1980's testosterone (think the dark-panelled bar in the tv show "Cheers") and the main play-area of "Romper Room". The resulting chaos makes me feel physically ill, whenever I have to venture down there. My laundry room is right off of the furnace area, and is chock-a-block with a higgledy-piggledy of random discarded articles that are too "precious" to actually throw away. I have decided that I can no longer stand it. SO. Out come the paint cans and overalls!! I am going to strip wallpaper, sand surfaces, and paint out the grime. Purging is always easier when you actually empty the room for a reason such as this: by the time I'm done with it, the place will look too damn good to shove all the crap back in there. It's going to take awhile, and it's going to get much, much worse before it gets better... but, this mammoth project should last me until the ground outside thaws, at least.
A lot. And, because of this, I have an enormous fabric stash that was carefully parcelled into large packing boxes, when my sewing room was dismantled upon the birth of Child Number Three. At the moment, I am working to create the costumes for a musical being put on by the public school that hosted me for my first teaching practicum (I'm so happy to be able to "give something back" to them!!), and the pleasure I'm discovering from sewing again has got me riled up to do MORE. Once the basement is done, I'm going to set up a proper station for myself upstairs, and get back to doing more of the needlework I enjoy. Of course, the main challenge will be establishing an organization system, so the whole thing doesn't get out-of-hand... That's one of the reasons why I packed it all up, years ago-- you can't have babies crawling around amongst the pins, getting tangled in thread and fabric scraps... Well, you CAN, but the results aren't pretty.
-a beautiful, soft merino hat for my dear old dad. I found this pattern on the Yarn Harlot's website (oh, Stephanie, how I love thee!!), and I've been whipping up quite a few of them. They're quick, they're a "no-brainer" that can be completed accurately during even the most exciting and engrossing movie, and they're portable. Great for the car, whilst waiting outside of schools for children to emerge. Dad's off to Scotland in a few days, so I'd better get cracking, and put this in the mail.
-an entrelac scarf. This was a good idea at the time: I was feeling fleetingly frugal, and decided that this would be an excellent way to use up all my lovely ends of Noro Silk Garden. Unfortunately, in order to knit entrelac, you have to count. Accurately. Turns out, when I'm in the middle of writing an enormous academic paper, the last damn thing I want to do before I pass out at night is COUNT. And, accuracy isn't my strong-point, either.
-a Debbie Bliss swing coat. This? Will be fantastic for Spring. It will be my nouveau-poncho. I have too many ponchos, and I wore them hunkered down in front of my computer all winter. I need to free myself from the confines of the poncho, and swing outdoors in this new coat!! Hopefully, Debbie will forgive me for using my favourite Diamond merino, instead of her name brand. (Tough luck, Ms. Bliss-- Diamond's cheaper, where I come from!!) The pattern is great, but I don't usually tend to knit stuff in pieces... I wish I could have done this as a sort of neck-down project, in the round. I'm just praying that I'll have the wherewithal to actually sew the damn thing together once I'm finished the endless reams of purple garter stitching.
-another coat. This one is truly shameful. My mother bought a kit for me to do up, nearly two and a half years ago. I promised I would make it for her. I promptly and heedlessly knit the two front pieces-- in two different sizes. I have a horror of having to completely rip out the second piece, and begin all over again. This project sits at the top of my basket at all times, and I swear the enormous balls of Marble yarn TAUNT ME whenever I look at them. The prospect of attacking this sweater makes me want to scream with frustration and tear out all of my hair, as a punishment for my hubris and general stupidity. But, because I am who I am, and of guilt-ridden Scottish descent, I cannot bring myself to confess my sins to my mother. I can't even bring myself to snip it to pieces with my sharpest scissors, and then flush all evidence down the toilet. I fear that I will still be dreading this project on my death bed. 
...because Noro "Silk Garden" makes EVERYTHING better.Well, it's Monday.
e all taken the earthquake and tsunami disaster victims into our hearts, and struggled for several days to determine how we could possibly reach out to them. With the help of Facebook, we contacted our friends, neighbours and relatives, who contributed anything they could, in the form of small change. People emptied their pockets, small bowls, junk drawers, piggy banks and tupperware containers for us... And for a solid weekend, my sister and I and the four littlest cousins sat around the kitchen table counting and counting... rolling and rolling coins (mostly PENNIES), until we had piled up nearly $150.
A Japanese Self-Defense Forces officer smiles as he holds a four-month-old baby girl who was rescued along with her family members from their home in Ishimaki City...
This beautiful image of hope among the ruins is so touching, and yet, I can't help fearing for the future of this tiny girl. Radioactive gases are spreading, and this incredible civilization of people are suffering so terribly.
Please join me in donating any amount that you can possibly afford, to The Red Cross, and to Doctors Without Borders. These two groups are currently "on-the-ground" in Japan (AND New Zealand!! We have not forgotten you!!), doing everything they can to provide practical, immediate assistance to all those in need.
Even those of us who are, by the grace of God, far enough away from the disaster to be safe and well, can reach out and help people who are not as fortunate.
Please remember that "non-specific" donations are able to reach disaster victims most quickly, as they require less "processing time".
Thank you.
Wishing you all the very
happiest of New Years!!
Much love (and warm fuzzies) from CGF xoxo
Well, folks... it's official.
There's been a death confirmed here in our household, and it's a dirty situation, I'm afraid.
Yesterday, with the first batch of company having departed from this steaming heap my family and I call home, I settled in to some seriously heavy cleaning, before the second and third parties requiring High Entertainment arrived.
The kitchen required special attention, as you can imagine. Cupboards were swept out and reorganized, counters were wiped down, the oven was blasted with serious chemical warfare, the garbage was emptied, and all receptacles were thoroughly sterilized.
It was a Reformation, I tell you.
And, as with most efforts that are undertaken in this house, things looked a lot worse before they began to look better.
Whenever I clean like a demonically possessed whirling dervish, I actually DO have a strategy that I try to stick to: I start at the ceiling, and work my way down to the floor. Gravity is my friend, in this case (un-like the case of my developing facial jowls and droopy rear end. But I digress...)
Whatever filth that is swept, scraped, or blow-torched off of surfaces eventually lands on the floor, which is then vacuumed, and then duly scrubbed. In this way, I am fairly well assured of collapsing in exhaustion upon a relatively clean (albeit more than slightly damp) surface, once the ordeal is complete. This technique also puts me in a position to view the cats' feet, as they ick their way through the puddles, and then plop their dirty little botts down on a dry patch beside me.
All was going well, yesterday. So well, that the condition of the kitchen went from simply "horrible" to damn near "VILE". Crumbs and cobwebs were flying, not to mention smatterings of leftover currants and sugar sprinkles... All were duly swept "downwards".
And then, I climbed down off of my step stool, crunched over to the broom cupboard, and reached for my beloved and ancient vacuum cleaner. I plugged it into the kitchen outlet, but instead of the reassuring "SWOOSH" that usually greets my grateful ears, I heard... nothing.
I checked the power outlet, then the breaker switch. All in good order.
Panicking more than just a little, I cracked open my old friend's chest, so to speak, and began attempting emergency resuscitation: I cleaned the filter, and replaced the bag.
Still nothing.
No "heartbeat".
And definitely no "swoosh".
I then called in the paramedics, in the form of Sue down at the local VacMaster Centre. She rushed right over, as she always does.
But, sadly, this time, there was nothing she could do. She pronounced my beloved dead-on-arrival.
And, once she had recovered from the sight of the horror in my kitchen, she offered her deepest sympathy, in the form of a significant discount on a much newer, sleeker model.
My new Partner-In-Cleaning promises to be everything my old friend was, and MORE: never again will I have to make a late-night run to Sue's establishment, and pound on the door (having been locked-up only moments before) BEGGING for replacement bags. This baby's got serious cyclonic action, and a receptacle that requires nothing more than to be emptied into the trash after several months of use (or, more likely in our case, every week or so). It's even got a zippered "sleeping bag" type of sleeve that encases the hose, to protect my oh-so-delicate floors and the legs of various pieces of furniture (har-de-har... Well, at least it will no longer make that disgusting rrrrrrrriiiiiipppppp-ing noise every time I haul it around sharp corners).
Yes, there's been a death in the family, 'tis true. Our household is in serious disarray at the moment, but not for long. For tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, my shiny new friend will be ceremoniously installed, and the old corpse hauled away to the recycling depot.
I have to say:
This must be the only occasion upon which I've been truly happy to report that something in my life "really sucks".
"Adoration of the Shepherds"
Silent Night
"Santa Claus is Comin' to Town"
"Adoration of the Magi" 
Angels Announcing the Birth of Christ to the Shepherds 
"The Star of Bethlehem"
I Wonder As I Wander
Lux ArumqueOn Sunday afternoon, I had the great pleasure of being one of the members of the congregation for The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at St. John's Church in Elora, Ontario: the home of one of the foremost choral ensembles in North America. The music was breathtaking, as was the atmosphere of the beautiful church, which is nestled in some of the most sacred farm country in our part of the world. As we exited the church, we were greeted by the Rector, who was standing in the doorway. Behind him, outside, twilight was fading and snow was falling... It was the perfect end to a most perfect afternoon.
One of the most moving pieces of music that I heard during the service was Eric Whitacre's "Lux Arumque: Light and Gold". The sound was haunting... and the words brought tears to my eyes. Whitacre's genius is found in the structure of the chords that he uses in his compositions. His signature "Whitacre Chords," or pan-diatonic clusters are usually arranged in successive increasing or decreasing density. Whitacre achieves this growth and decay by splitting voices divisi: in one case up to 18 parts. He is not only a prolific composer, he is a ferociously busy conductor, lecturer and teacher, as well.
In 2009, Mr. Whitacre embarked on a mammoth project, involving this particular choral piece. Using computer technology, he organized a "Virtual Choir": 185 voices, beamed in from 12 different countries around the world. He conducted the singers online, combined their efforts and recorded the result in a spectacular video, which he then published on Youtube. Within two months, the video had over one million "hits". Not only did this ground-breaking idea expose a whole new audience to this genre of music, it brought together musicians from around the world who otherwise might never have had the opportunity to collaborate on a musical project.
Watch, listen, and enjoy:
