Boxing Day

Many thanks to all of you  who emailed or commented to express your concerns  and best wishes for my Dad's health.  After a week in the hospital, he is now home and - IMO- recovering nicely.  Dad, however, is much more impatient to return to his former life and if asked how he feels will answer
" Not very damn good."   But to Fred and I he seems stronger each day.

We are just home now from spending a few days with him over Christmas.  It was the most relaxed and stress-free Christmas I have ever had.  Dad napped, Fred read and I knit.  Salmon fillets and salad for dinner.  We did have a Christmas Cake Contest for our Christmas Dinner Dessert.  Unlabelled, on each person's plate, were two pieces of cake:  One piece of my fruit cake and one  piece from  my friend Marie's  fruit cake.  Two out of three voted for Marie's cake.  Guess I gotta' get that recipe.

Here  is Dad, in his own home where he still lives by himself, this morning emptying the dishwasher for the first time, post attack.

 I see by this picture that he relocated the hand towel.  Guess I didn't put it where it belongs.

And here he is at the table with Fred.

On the mend, I'd say.  He figures he will never again  walk from Union Station to the Rex on Queen St and never again cross the border.  But he said "That's OK.  30 or 40 trips to New Orleans is enough."

He has already asked about going to a Jays game next summer and thinks he might enjoy a trip to the Magdelene Islands with his friend.  And as we said good bye this morning, he was settling  in to read a book about President Andrew Jackson on his Kobo.  Go Dad!

Thanks again to all of you for your kind attention.  A belated Merry Christmas to you all.

Best Laid Plans

Last Wednesday, my 92 year old, jazz-loving, suffer-no-fools, take-no-prisoners, bullet-proof, (we thought)  father suffered a heart attack.

Although still in intensive care, he is doing remarkably well considering his age.  The doctor commented on his unusual strength for a 92 year old and asked if he had been to be a farmer.  The answer is yes.    "Dang!  I knew I should have been a farmer," was the doctor's response.  He said that  in his rural practise, he has many elderly men of considerable strength and they have all been farmers. 

Dad's career as a farmer was followed by a career in Real Estate and throughout both and into retirement he has been a strong believer of exercise.  In fact, for a  couple of days prior to the heart attack, he had been short of breath.  He was disgusted with himself for being so out of shape and  decided to do extra exercises to get into better shape.  Bet that didn't help the situation.

Yesterday he asked the doctor to write a letter to his fitness guru so his exercises can be properly tailored to his new condition.

Our plans for the season, have now, of course, changed.  Christmas dinner?  Who knows.  Gift exchange? Who knows.  Blogging?  Sporadic, I''m sure.

Computer Issues

Word verification drives me crazy.  I know it drives some of you crazy too. Vera commented last week that it would be her last comment as she could no longer cope with the word verification.  Gina commented that it takes her longer to word verify than to read the blog and post the comment.  I hear ya' Gina.  Others have also expressed frustration over the process.

You must wonder, then, why I use it.  One word.  Robots.  Without word verification, I get robotic comments.  Thankfully I have comments  sent to me via email, so I can peruse and  delete the robotic - often distasteful -  ones. 

But I do have few  suggestions.  Most of you are computer experts or you wouldn't have found your way to my blog in the first place.  So, if I am telling you something you already know, please excuse me.

In word verification, it is important to type the letters exactly as they appear.  Forget the common computer rule of always using lower case.  If you see capitals in the word verification, type the letter in upper case.  Also, if there appears to be a space between letters and numbers, leave that space when you type. And  - one that took me a long time to twig to - type the number  in numeric, not word,  form.  Thank Sandra of Curlerchick for that one.

But the biggest difference for me came when I learned  that if you hold the control button  - lower left - and repeatedly hit the plus sign - upper right  - that the page - and the print on it -  will increase in size.  Sometimes this still doesn't make reading the wonkily-shaped word verification  letters  any easier but lots of times it does the trick.  If, in your excitement of seeing the words  grow in size, you  hit the plus sign too often and make things too large, simply hold control and hit the minus sign on the key to the left of the plus sign.  Things will get smaller.

Learning this trick was a WOW!  moment for me.  I hope it helps make your blog reading easier.

A Sad Day

Normally, on Wednesdays I do not post on the blog.  Wednesdays saw no time for blog posting as it was the one day a week that I worked. 

For the last 3 years I have worked Wednesdays at Grey Heron - Collingwood's yarn store.  But Grey Heron, like so many small businesses, especially small yarn stores, is struggling.  And so I have found myself laid off - a  victim of the economic downturn. 


I will miss the store.  Working one day a week, for a retired person, satisfies many needs.  It was one day a week to put on  'work' clothes, meet people, use different brain cells and it came with  a pay cheque.  All this done in an environment surrounded by yarn and knitters.  It was perfect.

We had a group of Wednesday Afternoon Knitters that came each week. Originally they came for official knitting lessons but   as their knitting-knowledge grew,   Wednesdays morphed into a 9-1-1 group.  They brought their knitting and I stood watch to help where needed.   Some of them could cast on and knit  when they first came, some could not.  Look at what they have accomplished!  I taught them that and I am proud of them. I will miss you ladies.  

 

 

 

Things change.  Wednesdays will now be for knitting.

My Old Man

My old man turns 70 this week.  Yikes!  He doesn't seem 70 but his birth certificate says he is.

Fred is not one to enjoy being the  centre of attention so  I knew he would not be happy if I threw a party  to celebrate his 70th.  What to do. 70 is a big milestone, so I did want to do something to mark the occasions.  I wanted to show him that he is loved and that the world has been a better place with him in it. 

Then one day, in the Owen Sound paper, there was a big ad for the Chi Cheemaun's final crossing of the season.  Dinner, entertainment and  a 5 hour boat ride south down  the east side of the Bruce pennisula to the Owen Sound harbour, where the Big Canoe rests for the winter.


Fred and I have a special connection with the Chi Cheemaun.  For more than 25 years we spent our summer vacation time on Manitoulin, arriving on the island  via the Chi Cheemaun.  Our very first ride was memorable as we naively underestimated the  number of people that ride the Chi Cheemaun and  couldn't get on the boat for our intended sailing time.  Missing the boat means a 4 hour wait.  There were rides when we raced up Hwy 6 to make the boat, when we stayed overnight in Tobermory in order to be on the 7 am ferry, or the ride when everyone in our party got on the boat except my single-Mom sister and her 3 small children.  If that ferry could have held one more car, they would have been on.  Instead we waved good bye to the 4 of them as they forlornly sat, first in line for the next ferry.

With all that history, coupled with the fact that both Fred and I enjoy being on the water, I booked the day away  as his birthday gift.

Despite the rainy cool weather, it was a great day.  Almost 600 people enjoyed that ride.  The roast beef diner was great, the band was great, the time spent with my old man was great and the big, just-like-a-kid smile that adorned his face  for most of the trip  -  except for when I snapped his picture it would seem - was proof enough that it was the perfect gift.

Meaford's Big Weekend

This weekend is a big weekend for all Meaford people.  It is the 16th annual  Scarecrow Invasion.

The town decorated everywhere with Scarecrows,

a Friday night parade and weekend-long One Of A Kind   er, um,  it's not called a OOAK but should be - Craft Show.

It is a home-coming of sorts for all ex-Meafordites and the traffic line-ups to  get into town are are almost  Toronto-esque in size.  All the  businesses in town gear up for the weekend and are beyond busy.  Local legends like Grandma Lambe with her pies  and orchards such as Vail's,   Barbetta's   and Almond's with their apples are places that attract mega- crowds of visitors  this weekend.

So if you are looking for a fun time this weekend, come to Meaford.  You'll see me at the craft show.  Or at Grandma Lambe's.  Or at one of the orchards.  Or at the parade.    

My Short Cruise

This weekend I was on a cruise.  Of sorts.

Last spring, Dad had said that he wanted to go on a cruise.  One that he had been on in the past and wanted to do again. An East Coast cruise that docks in cities such as Quebec City, Boston, Halifax and ports in between.  Being 92 years old, it was thought that he needed a travelling companion and I was chosen.  Fine by me.

A deposit was paid in early spring with  the rest of the  money due mid July.  As summer approached, Dad talked less and less about the cruise and  I began to suspect that he was having second thoughts.  And so he was.  While in Hearst I received an email from him, in his typical staccato style,  that read something like this.  "Not feeling well.  Nothing serious.  Just feel  more like 93 than 92.  Have cancelled cruise."

I responded with the suggestion that we substitute the week-long cruise -  complete  with the hassle of major airports and crowds -   for a weekend in Toronto to hear some jazz. 

And so Saturday morning saw me driving south, while Dad trained it in from the west for a noon meet-up in Toronto.  Dad stepped out of  the cab wearing the jazz-lovers vest I knit for  him several years ago.

 

Our first music stop was to hear Danny Marks at the Rex.  Danny  never fails to entertain and even, this time, gave me my 15 seconds of fame.  I approached the stage thinking to buy a CD but they were all sold.  Apparently  I looked so disappointed that Danny invited me to join him on stage and cajoled the audience  into feeling sorry for me until one gentleman offered to sell me his CD.  Lucky me.

Following the Rex we were off to Grossman's Tavern.  The first time I ever went to Grossman's, Dad suggested   " If you have to p - -,   go now.  They named the tavern after the condition of the washrooms."

Lucky for me, they have renovated and  the ladies loo now boasts granite counter tops.  The rest of the tavern still has that no-frills feel which provides a great venue for their Saturday afternoon show featuring The Happy Pals.  A lively, fun, raucous band playing Dixie Land Jazz favourites. 

Niece Katie   - she of the red felted hat -

 

joined us for an hour on her study break.  And son Peter arrived to join us for a dinner at a Thai restaurant.  Spicy Thai food.  Dad's favourite.

Sunday, we were back at the Rex to hear the Excelsior Jazz Band.  Same instruments and  same songs as The Happy Pals but a smoother, less raw sound.

 Shortly before the band started to play,  an elderly lady entered, pushing her husband in a wheel chair.  They sat at the end of our table.  She gently removed his jacket and the foot rests from the wheel chair - the better to feel the vibrations of the music.  Periodically she would get up from her chair and hold a glass of water to his lips so he could have a drink.  She ordered him a grilled cheese sandwich, then cut it into small pieces, so he could feed himself. When all that was done, she took him to the men's washroom.

The couple were  known to the band and  part way through the  afternoon, the band leader introduced them.   It was her birthday which was the reason for the outing.  The band leader went on to say that  the husband was in his 90s and a World War Two veteran so they played   It's A Long Way  To Tipperary.  All of which brought tears to me eyes.  My Dad is in his 90s and a WW2 veteran.  He came a 100 Kilometres by train, then cab  to join me for our 'cruise'.  Saying  good bye to him Sunday afternoon I watched  him toddle across Queen Street in downtown Toronto, waving his cane at an approaching cab to get a ride to the train station for his trip home.  He had booked first class - a sale on tickets he said - which offered him a choice of meals. He chose Hindu.  He had never eaten Hindu and wanted to try it.  I am very lucky.

But when I 'travel' there isn't much time for knitting.   I managed to finish the last few rows of sleeve #1 for Vignette before dozing off in my chair last night.

 

 Details tomorrow.

Terrific Late Summer Trio

This afternoon, I am spending my time doing three of my favourite things:  canning, knitting and baseball.

Late summer in Ontario brings out the pioneer in me.  Well, the partial pioneer.  I am not willing to let go of my dishwasher or my modern, non-wood burning stove.  But otherwise, like the women of times past, I 'put down'  at this time of year.  It starts with a trip to the market,

followed by a very messy kitchen and in the end, things like this.

 Peach Jam

 9 Day Pickles

And while I stir down this year's batch of chili sauce,

I will try to finish  mitten number two for Ruby's kits

while watching my Blue Jays.

 Early game yet, but look at that score.  Doesn't look good.

Guess I'm A Robot

Is it just me or are those word verification 'tests'  that bloggers use to prevent robotic comments getting more difficult?  There are now, always two words, not one, and one of them is a number  Sometimes a four digit number.  What do you type first, the number or the word?   Do you type the number as all one word ?  Do you put in the 'and' as in One hundred and ten or do you leave it out?

Then there is the issue of the ever-increasingly-difficult-to-read word.  Seems to me that the letters are more blurred than in the past and definitely closer together.  No matter how much I enlarge the area, I find them difficult to decipher.

Maybe I am simply out of touch because of  my summer away from blog reading, but over the last few days, once again having the house to myself, I have been trying to catch up on blog reading - and I want to comment. More than once, I have been flummoxed.   Denise and Lyn, to name but two,  please know that I have tried.  Without exaggeration, I bet I tried ten times.  Each time my word verification was rejected.   Are the computer robots so clever that the words cannot be shown in a clear script?

All bloggers that normally receive comments from me, please know that I am still reading and  hopefully will pass through this robot stage soon.

No Reply

Home now and catching up on blog comments.  Sandra left me a great How To reply to my post about eh no reply commenters.  If yo u know yourself to be one - Gina, Deb, etc try Sandra's tip  - copied below - and hopefully I will be able to comment on our comments.

Sandra says - - - it's not you. If the commenter does not have an email linked to their profile, no email for them will be available. That's when you get the no-reply header. I was one of those until I linked my email to my profile. (or did something like that - in some way, I checked a box or something that allowed my email to show.)

Thanks, Sandra.

Cameron Lake

Subtitled, How My World Expands Through Knitting.

Often, in my summer blog posts, you have heard me mention my knitting-friend, Ruby – owner of the Wool/Tool Shop.  That is Co-owner of the Napa Auto Parts store with husband Ray with the front corner of the store dedicated to yarn.

In semi-retirement, while in the process of  turning over of the business to son Tim, Ruby and Ray purchased a fishing lodge on Cameron Lake. 

 Four cabins for rent, a cabin for themselves

 and several boats for the fishermen.  Each year since they purchased the Lodge, we have tried to find time to go out to the lodge with them.  This year it finally worked out. 

Cameron Lake is a true northern experience.  To get there, we travelled 90 minutes by car -  the first half of which was on a  private road owned by a logging company.  By the way, municipal road crews – you could take a few lessons on road maintenance here.  The last half of the drive was on a narrow, rutted, bumpy, washboardy, forgotten road  to a forgotten town.  A ghost town.  Perhaps 30 houses and my guess would be five of them were occupied.  No store, no hospital, no school, nothing.  A hermits delight.

But a river runs through it.  Ruby’s hubby met us with the boat and the next leg of the journey was a 90 minute boat ride down river to the lake and the lodge.  Here you see Ruby, ready for the ride.  

 

 With this year’s drought, the river is so low that the boat had to be pulled through the water for part of the trip. 

While I have camped and ‘lodged’ on many ‘northern’ lakes, never have I stayed on one where there was absolutely no human habitation except  us.  I am still trying to decide if it was something to be cherished or feared.  It certainly gave me a better appreciation of the pioneers.

Fred certainly enjoyed the fishing.  In one day, the two husbands caught 11 Walleye (sometimes called Pickerel), the smallest being 6 inches and several decent size pike.  The  Walleye made for a delicious Fish Fry.

A great weekend and a wonderful new experience that I would never have had if it weren’t for knitting.

The Not Understood Whys Of The Web

As many of you know, I do respond to  comments.  At least, when home and regularly at my computer,  I do.

But for some reason  – and if any of you know why this  happens, please let me know – some comments arrive with a header of   ’noreply’  These commenters do not receive my replies. 

I thought my replies were getting through as the emails I send out are never returned to me.  But those ‘noreply’ commenters that I personally know, like Gina or Deb,  say they never see my replies. 

Then recently, I received a most lovely comment for a reader who said something like – “I read you blog every weekend for the humour and the information.”  How kind.  I would dearly love to reply, but the comment arrived in my email box as a ‘noreply’ comment. 

So for you, my latest ‘noreply’ commenter, and all my other ‘noreply commenters, please know that I do read your comments and would love to connect with you.  Once I figure out how to do it, I will.

 

Abi and Grandma

 It is wonderful to have a grand child who is interested in the same crafty things as Grandma.  Abi, now 10, has long been interested in sewing.  I had taught her to hand sew and  last summer she made a delightful ‘bear’ bib for one of the new babies in the family.  This year, though, Abi felt ready  - not to mention eager -  to move on to machine sewing. 

My first machine sewing project was an  apron.  One straight piece of fabric gathered at the waist and topped by a long, double-thickness sash.  It seemed to me that an apron  was not a project that would  appeal to this generation.  I mentioned the first project dilemma to  Cathy, the very  ‘tuned-in’ owner of Meaford’s fabric store, and immediately she suggested  pyjama pants.  Not a garment to be worn in public  means   rookie mistakes like crooked seams don’t matter as much, she said.  Pyjama pants it was and I came north with my machine, fabric, pattern and a promise to have a couple of ‘girl days’ to teach Abi how to sew. 

This week James’  plans to spend time with his buddies gave us the perfect opportunity for those girl days and sewing lessons.  At the end of  the first afternoon, Abi  had her first machine sewing project – green pyjama shorts. 

 Day two, with straighter seams, a purple pair.

 This is the type of activity that Grandma enjoys. Much more so than some of Abi’s other interests.  Meet my junior ‘Python’ Hunters.

Off To Hearst

My annual summer migration starts tomorrow.  We are off to the trailer in Hearst for five or six weeks. 

When your son re-locates for work, to a town 12 hours away, then marries and has your only grand children in a town 12 hours away, a trailer for summer living  within  15 minutes of the grand children is a must. 

We spend several weeks there every summer. which gives us a sense of what it must be like to live near one's grand kids.  They pop out for an after-dinner swim.  They have sleep-overs.  They come with Mom & Dad on the weekends for bar b ques, swimmming, fishing and all those other lakeside activities common in a Canadian, northern summer.

But there is lots of things left behind to miss while I am gone.  Daily blogging is one of them.  With no internet  connection out at the lake, my posting  is restricted to visits to town.  Regular posting -  and life  - resumes mid-August.


In the mean time, here are some of the other things left behind when we get in the car tomorrow morning at 6 am.

Happy Canada Day

With a strong statement that I am in no way part of this corporation or even support the use of it's product, I did think this cute and appropriate for today.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJWalVsgcq8

And this version for the knitters who rock.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlOcLyxmwMI

Happy Canada Day everyone.  And happy 4th to my neighbours to the south.

The Trouble With Foreign Languages and Poor Eyesight.

My youngest sister is famous for her Strawberry Cake.  In the spring of the year,  we are often treated to this wonderful dessert when at her house.

This Sunday, I have dinner guests coming and this being strawberry season, I emailed 'Sis' to get her recipe.  It is this one.

Recipe in hand I headed to the grocery store.  Cake mix - only a bit of a language problem.  Does  520grams equal 18 1/4 ounces?  Close enough I thought.

The second ingredient gave me more of an issue.  The recipe calls for  - or I thought it did - a 3 oz package of sugar-free strawberry gelatin.

At my small, rural, grocery store, there was one variety only of sugar-free gelatin.  It came in a  10 gram package.  Rural folks are not big on sugar-free.

I dug deep to find my grade school math and came up with
        3 ounces is almost 4 ounces. 
        4 ounces is 1/4 of 16 ounces. 
       16 ounces is one pound. 
       One pound equals 454 grams -one of the few bilingual measurements I know.

So the recipe is looking for a sugar-free gelatin mix of about 112 grams.  That's a far cry from the 10g package on the shelf.

The closest I could get was regular gelatin in an   85gram package,  sugar and all.  85 is closer to 112 and so it would  have to do.  Home I came to bake the cake.  Cake baked and cooling, it occurred to me that it was a bit of a funny story and might make an interesting blog post.

 Recipe in hand I sat down to type.  What did I see?  A dot.  A decimal.  A period.  Call it what you will, it was sitting  smartly in front of the three.  The recipe calls not for  a three ounce package, but a 'point' three ounce package.  What would you like to bet that is close to  ten grams?

Sunday dinner will tell the tale.    It looks like  cake,

 

but it jiggles like jello.    'Cakello' most likely. 

I intend to smother it in fresh berries.  That should cover my foreign language, poor eyesight cake issues.

Fun At The Frolic

Saturday was Toronto's  annual Knitters Frolic hosted by the Downtown Knit Collective. Again, I worked the Cabin Fever booth.  This year, with Lynda

 

-one half of the Gemmell sister duo. 

What a day!  So much busier than last year.  Mr Finance Minister, if knitters are any indication,  the recession is over!

Supposedly, I was there to work.  But there were so many knitter friends to visit with.    No-longer-new Nan was there.  As was Sandy B and her sister, bag-lady Sue.  Marie of Sel&Poivre, Sandra of Curlerchick knits, Sharon and Patrick both   ex-co-workers from London and the biggest surprise of all, also from London, my good friend Patti-Ann.  Neither of us had thought to ask the other if we were going to the show so our meet up in the hall was a big surprise for both of us.   

Patti-Ann is very perfectly tuned into my knitterly self.  She knows what colours I wear - and more importantly -  what colours I should wear.  She knows the limits of my knitting skills.  Having a friend with this knowledge makes her a very big  enabler.  A could-be dangerous situation at times.  Luckily, my guilt at being away from the booth for too long at a stretch,  kept me from doing too much damage on the  shopping circuit.  Otherwise  I'd be seeking debt counselling this morning. 

I did purchase some skeins of what I call, standard show yarns. Standard show yarns come in two kinds.  One kind makes me say "I love this, have no idea what I'll do with it, but gotta' have it.  

In this case, three skeins of yarn labelled One Of A Kind.  Read - prepared for the show.  Lace weight, in a Polyester, Flax and Silk combo.   

Then it's direct opposite. 

 

The  kind of yarn with  an accompanying pattern 

which catches my attention because it has been knitted up and is on display for show-goers to  gush over. (I'm not sure I really needed two of them, Patti-Ann.  I might need to enforce  mandatory limits on enabling)

All in all, a wonderful day.  The booth looked lovely with new patterns knit up. 

This green sweater is from Deb's soon-to-hit-the-shelves book of large size knits. 

The new, lace-on- all-edges shawl pattern, designed by Robin Hunter is a beauty. 

 

 

Especially in CF's yarn  that contains  sterling silver.

There was lots of visiting, lots of shopping - oh and some  'boothing'.  Sorry about my short attention span, Lynda. 

Swamp Boat Wedding

My head is finally un-fogged and my body  acclimatized  to cool, non-New Orleans  weather.  The pictures are  sorted, cropped and red-eyed.  So, I give you my niece's swamp boat wedding.

First, you should know - there were shoes!

My grandfather ran a shoe store when I was a child and would take us, Sundays, after Church, to the privacy of the closed  store to buy our shoes.  That's where it started.

For those of you who have never attended a swamp boat wedding and wonder 'what the heck is a swamp boat' - here it is.  A flat-bottomed boat which seats 20 or so, with a flat metal roof.  Perfect for navigating the shallow, gator-infest waters of the Bayou.

Guests included 92 year old Grandpa of the bride and his friend Dorothy.  

The groom waited at the back?? front?? end! of the boat,

as Mom and Dad walked the bride down the 'aisle'.

Reverend Tony officiated

then we all watched the first, married kiss

and a new family was formed.

What food is served at a Louisiana swamp boat wedding?  Good question.  Beyond the traditional Champagne for toasts and the  heart-shaped cake, there were

Muffelattas, and Po-Boys.  Blackened chicken, fish and shrimp Po-Boys to be exact.

Who all attended this special wedding?  Beyond the 13 family members, there were more than a few unexpected,  but apparently welcome,  guests.

Dinner back in town took place at Arnauds.  A charming restaurant in a 300 hundred year-old building right in the heart of the French Quarter.  We enjoyed the quiet of a private, second-floor room with a balcony that overlooked the mayhem of Bourbon Street at Festival time. 

The wedding was beyond special.  The weather perfect, the bride beautiful and the setting unique. Not soon to be forgotten, that is for sure.