Only One Blogger Was Hurt ----

Only one blogger - me - was hurt during  the preparation for this post.  I had planned, for today's post, to capture some wintry-wonderland, Christmas-themed  picture from the net and paste it on my blog to wish you all Merry Christmas.

Then I looked out the window and thought -"Heck, I don't need any picture from the 'net'.  My entire yard, street, village, county and beyond is a wintry wonderland.  So I began to take some pictures of the glorious scenery right outside my door.  I did this from  inside -where wintry wonderlands are best observed.   I opened the window in the bathroom to get a shot of the icicles and realized the screen would darken the photo.  Best take out the screen.  To do that the blind needed to be raised all the  way to the top.  It is  one of those heavy, wooden, wide-slatted blinds and just as it reached the top of the window, two feet above my head, the lock holding it in place gave way and it crashed down on my face.  I have a great, red scratch running down  one side of my nose.  I did take a picture to show you,  but trust me when I say a close up of my pores and wrinkles would have been hard on your stomach.

But the icicles look great.  Here is what I was looking at.

 From my bathroom window.

From my kitchen window

From the patio doors.  The Church behind us well hidden by the wintry scene.

So as you can see, there is no shortage of winter wonderland scenes here at the Harris Household.  For the next couple of days, at least, I will look at it  as mood-inspiring weather.

May you all have winter wonderlands to observe this Christmas.  Thank you  all for reading my blog  this past year and I'll be back writing again in 2014. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS

A Fun Weekend

Fred and I are home, recuperating from a terrific big-city weekend.  Toronto called with  some important missions to fulfill. 

First mission was to see artist son Peter and the  Lady of Spain's new downtown condo.  They purchased  it in September and  moved in about a month ago.  The move, however,  was followed by the discovery of bed bugs - a gift from the previous occupant. As anxious as we were to  see the new digs, we waited until  given the bug-free signal.    That was mission #1.


The weekend was also to be a family gathering.  Dad's express wishes on his death were -'No funeral.  Instead, have a party.'   The plans were for the family to get together at Grossman's  - one of Dad's favourite spots - on Saturday afternoon to listen to The Happy Pals - one of dad's favourite bands.  Mission #2.


And since the whole family was coming, Mission #3 was to see Baby Jack.  18 days old isn't too early to introduce the newest generation to Dixie Land Jazz.  Although Mom and Dad did keep him in the anteroom to protect his little ears from the amplification.

It was great fun and I leave you with some pictures.

Friday afternoon at The Rex.  Friday afternoon, Fred and I did the real city thing and took the street car to see

 The Hog Town Syncopators

We were back at the same place for lunch Saturday.  

 
This time we were there to see Danny Marks. Too bright a day and too much light on Danny to get a good photo.  Sorry, Danny.


The highlight of the day was baby Jack.  They say this can be catching.  A Mom can only hope.

Then there was the entire Southern Ontario part of the family.  

Those glasses make the situation look worse than it is.  The huge crowd always at Grossman's and the weary, eons-old waitress mean service is slow and infrequent.  They never have trouble with inebriated customers.

and The Happy Pals.

 

Certainly the best celebration of life I've been to.  Great family fun.

Various And Sundry As Assigned

Monday was Remembrance Day and I have mentioned here before my association with the Legion and  in particular, my position this year,  as Poppy Chair.  As chair of this committee you need a willing and strong husband, or at least one who is agreeable to being 'voluntold' for duties various and sundry as assigned.

Fred took inventory of all the wreaths a few days before the 11th.  He replaced broken poppies and banners.  Early the morning of the 11th, he took the  wreaths  to the cenotaph, laid them out in the order of the service to make it convenient for the wreath layers.  Following the service,  he gathered them all up and brought them home, ready to box up for next year.

But the weather wreaked havoc on his plan. The wreathes were soaking wet and wind whipped.  Today, our laundry room looks like this.  Wreaths -a- plenty, drying out.

 

The photo on the wall you see there was taken at the Quebec City Winter Carnival in 1993.  It is my Mom and the Bonhomme d'Carnivale.  M. Bonhomme is really tall and Mom was really  short.  It makes for a fun photo.

Great Day

It is a great day.  I have become a Great Aunt.  Hurray!

Baby Jack, born today, November 5 2013.  Everyone well.  Hurray!

He weighs 7lbs 2 oz.  The perfect weight to wear all those baby things I knit for him.  Hurray!

The Blanket.   The Blue Sweater.    The Booties.    The  Ringmaster.

  Happy.  Happy.  Happy,  here.

Matching Passions

We are a household of matching passions.  Fred and I both  indulge our retired selves, by spending hours at our respective hobbies  passions.  Me with my yarn and needles,  Fred with his line and hook. 

Sometimes our passions frustrate us.  The yarn twists or  tears; the pattern is undecipherable or the end result far from the vision.  For Fred, the frustration often occurs when, despite a mile or so of river available to the fisher people, a fellow fisher will hike down to stand  within inches of where Fred has been fishing.   This doubles the chances of tangled lines and cuts in half the chances of catching a fish.

And of course, for a fisherman, there are always the big ones that get away.

Always, our passions cost us money.  I treat myself to the best  yarn and needles my  budget will allow.  Happily for me,  Fred does  the same with fishing gear.  I never hear a word of complaint about what I spend on knitting supplies.   Nothing like good    tools to improve the skills.  That's my story ...

Almost aways, our passion are fun.  For me fun is  when a knitting project slips easily from vision to fruition.  Or for Fred, fun was this morning,  when he   caught his second, October  Rainbow Trout. 

This one is a biggy.  Seven pounds, and 26 inches long. 

All the better when the passion produces dinner.





     

Great Day Number Two

Residing, as we do  in the heart of the great lakes and in particular at the intersection of Lake Huron and Georgian Bay, the ferry, the M.S. Chi Chimaun that travels between Tobermory at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula and South Bay Mouth on Manitoulin Island, features large in our lives.   

Her winter harbour is Owen Sound – a couple of blocks from Riverside Yarns, just so you know.  Each spring and fall, the Chi Chimaun makes a re-positioning cruise.  In the spring from Owen Sound to Tobermory and the reverse in the fall.   A five hour cruise, with live music, entertainment and a great roast beef dinner.

Tickets are at a premium,  so ours were purchased weeks ago.   If I had known then how hectic my life was going to be these last couple of weeks, I probably would have passed.  But things have a  way of working out. The tickets were in my drawer -  and so  - we went.  What a glorious day!  Although it rained for most of the afternoon, the morning was bright and sunny.  We spent that time on deck, watching Georgian Bay’s special scenery. 

 

 

 

 

 Flower Pot Island.

Once the rain started we  spent time in the  lounge, listening to the  great music of Late Nite Radio 

 

(That is the Captain strumming the banjo.  Who was steering the ship?)

and enjoying the auction. (A sea of grey hair)

 

 

Of the 15 items auctioned off, the most expensive was ‘a pie a month’ for the next twelve months.  Top bid was $1,100.00.   Someone must really like pie.

The people of Owen Sound are proud to have the ferry in their downtown harbour for the winter.  Despite yesterday’s wet weather, there was still quite a welcoming committee.

Another, great, diversionary day.  Routine is slowly returning.  Next up –rescue my knitting bag  from behind the bedroom door. 

Sadly

Sadly, my Dad passed away last Friday.  He was 93 years old and except for a couple of difficult months this past year,  was exceptionally healthy for all those years. 

Dad's life motto was  'When we work,  we work hard.  But when we play, we play hard.'   Dad's personality and way of things could best be described as one of largess or perhaps the better word is,  excess.

If he owned one pair of sneakers, he must have owned 18.  Same with plain white tee shirts, light bulbs, batteries and shoe laces. In his bedroom at the house he had 3 tall boy dressers, and a collection of 500 CDs.

He loved to drive around the Gaspe but by the 17th trip my  Mother refused to go again and so  dad made many more  trips alone.

He used to make his own wine. He kept a running supply of 400 bottles.  

Since my Mothers death he had collected small, round, end tables.  "For the living room, to put a dish of peanuts on when I have company"  he'd say.  He had 9.   

He like his music loud;  his wine, red and copious; his cigars, Cuban; his Courvoisier, heated.  He loved Quebec, the French language and the French people.  And they loved him.  One French family that worked for Dad years ago had 13 children.  Dad and my Mom were invited to every one of those 13  weddings and by the time number 13 was married they were being invited to the weddings of the grandchildren. 

Dad loved Canada and  from 1941 - 1945 he served his country overseas. After being involved in the Italian Campaign, Dad was scheduled to be shipped to the Pacific but with the dropping of the atomic bomb the war was over and dad was home.  Ever after, he  held  Harry S. Truman in high regard.  "Mr Truman saved my life", he'd say. 


He loved politics, attended several sessions of  both federal and provincial Parliaments, never failed to vote and kept a regular email correspondence of an advisory nature  with his member of Parliament.

He believed in hard work and thought that all who are able should always pay their own way.   He had no patience for laziness or cheaters. 

He loved to travel  and he loved to read.  He had read every book ever written about,  or by,  Winston Churchill.

His home was always open to anyone who wanted to drop in.  There was no business so pressing that he couldn't stop to enjoy a glass of red wine with a friend.

He asked for no funeral but rather that we have a party.  And he asked that we  spread his ashes  in Quebec City, at Perce Rock and in New Orleans.  We have some travelling to do.

Happy Thanksgiving

It is  Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada.    We celebrate earlier than our USA friends - wait too late  and we'd be snowed in up here.

It is most definitely my favourite time of year.  I'll show you why.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  And if it isn't Thanksgiving where you live - what the heck.  Go ahead and cook a turkey anyway.

'No Knitting' Days

I don't know how it happens.  But  from time to time I seem to have a bunch of days in a row that see no knitting.  Such was the case over the last few days.

If I wasn't in the kitchen, I was 'visiting'.   I intended to visit my Dad on the weekend.  The three hour drive means I stay over.  Since dad no longer owns a house, I stay with my sister.  Gracious always, but  still working and with  a teenager in the house means she is, nonetheless,  busy.  So I offered to bake a cake for our Sunday dinner dessert.  One kitchen job, one visit organized.

The second visit was with Dad.  He hasn't been feeling well lately.  Woozy and wobbly is how he describes himself.  So wobbly in fact  that he has not been taking his meals in the dining room.  To give him something different to look forward to, I offered to bring a 'picnic' that we would eat in his room for Sunday lunch.  He asked if I could bring extra so he could invite a friend.  Perfect!  Kitchen job number two and second visit organized.

 Visit number three was with artist son, Peter.  He has a month long show at a local gallery and the grand opening was Saturday.  Both he and the 'Lady of Spain' were driving up for the opening and I simply couldn't see them returning home without a meal and a visit.  Kitchen job number three was Saturday night dinner.  Homemade pizza and Ceasar salad.

How much knitting did I get done between cake baking, sandwich making, pizza prep and all those  visits?    Not one stitch.  The weekend involved no knitting.    At all. Back to the needles tonight.  For sure.

Multi Tasking Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

At a conference on aging awhile back, Fred and I learned that multi tasking is not something seniors should do.   As we age, apparently, our brains can cope well with only  one task at a time. More than that and most likely something will go wrong.

Saturday morning provided me with irrefutable proof.    Task One for the day was to can the year's supply of  chili sauce. This involves blanching, peeling and chopping almost a  half bushel of tomatoes. Chopping celery, peppers and  onions.  Placing it all in a large pot, adding vinegar and spices and letting it cook until thickened.  About 3 hours.

Task Two was Focaccia Bread.  We had been invited to a pot luck 'Italian Dinner' for Saturday night and  I had decided to  take home made Focaccia Bread along with an antipasto platter.  

The Focaccia bread recipe called for sea salt.  While at the  marked last week, stocking up on all  my canning veggies, I had purchased  a bag of Sea Salt from the Watkins dealer.  On Saturday morning, after a couple of hours of work,  Task One was bubbling on the stove.  Task Two had just been mixed - flour, oil, yeast AND sea salt -  and set aside to rise when Fred came into the kitchen to change a light bulb.   

Trying to keep out of the way while Fred worked, I stepped aside and for no reason except good fortune, picked up the bag of sea salt.  There I saw the word  'Directions'.
"Why the heck would there be directions on a bag of salt?"  I asked myself. 
The directions read "Mix with water." 
"Why the heck would one need to mix the salt with water?" I asked myself.

I turned the bag over and in fancy script it read

 

Bath

Sea Salts

Obviously I missed the part about the  bath.  I squealed, grabbed the rising dough and the bag of bath salts and threw them both in the garbage.   

 

Task Two, take two.  Plain salt will do.  

I could just see  the kids.  After the funeral.  Bewildered, puzzled, shaking their heads.  "Mixed up bath salts with regular salt?"  

The Land Of Plenty.

We are  lucky to live in an area of great farm land that provides plenty of produce this time of year.  This   morning we woke before dawn to make  an early trip to the weekly farmer's market.  I needed canning supplies.

I purchased half a bushel of plum tomatoes for pasta sauce
3/4 bushel of regular beefsteak tomatoes for chili sauce and salsa

dill, beans and cukes  for pickled beans and dill pickles

plus all the extras - jalapeno peppers, red peppers, green peppers, garlic, onions, celery etc  etc etc.

Here you see my sweet pickles on day 8 of their 12 day process. 

 

They have just been rinsed so as not to disgust you.  After 8 days in salt water, they look pretty gross. I have a friend who calls them 'scummy' pickles because of the gross scumminess of the 8 day old water.  Another who calls them 'bug' pickles because her batch last year attracted fruit flies - a little meat with her pickles.  Home canning!

I am reminded of a childhood rhyme

A canner exceedingly canny
One morning remarked  to his Granny
"A canner can can
Anything a canner can can
But a canner can't can a can, can he?"

May your day involve 'plenty'.

 
 

Trailer Friends

 We live in two different worlds, Fred and I.  At home, there is one set of friends, but here at the trailer, we hang out with different folks.

Here is my early-morning walking partner – our next door trailer mate – and her hubby off for some ‘four-wheeling’ fun.

 

Four wheeling is a  much loved way to spend leisure time  here in the north. Fred and I are the odd couple out.  We do not own a four wheeler (except for our van, which I point out to the Grand kids,  has four wheels) and are not even the least interested in trying out this ‘sport’.  Makes us party poopers  in this neck of the Canadian woods.

Ducks abound here on the lake and this tribe has been eating the fall out from  the neighbours bird feeder.  Cute -  as long as they remember the bathroom facility is not on our lawn.

 

And lastly, I show you Canada’s most beautiful and best dressed, newly-licensed boat driver. 

 After 3 days of studying the book and  answering Grandpa’s quiz questions, a 3 hour, online exam, and a  4 week wait, Miss Abi  is officially licensed to drive a boat.   

Soon, though we leave this set of friends behind and head for home. 

I. T. News

As many of you know, Google Reader will soon no longer exist.  You know the gig - you no sooner  find the colour lipstick you like and they discontinue making it.  Same with Google.

Initially, when I  discovered blog reading, I simply 'bookmarked' the blog.  But that is cumbersome.  One needs to  look up the bookmarked pages then click on the blog to see IF there has been a posting since the last time the blog was read.  Too much work for a  person like me that reads several blogs daily.  Research, don't you know.  I needed a one-step approach.

Then I discovered Google's Reader.  Talk about enlightment!  You simply put the url (whatever the heck that stands for) or in other words,  the www. address  of the blog you want to track,  into the blank space and it captures that blog for future reading.  When the blogger has posted, the blog name is highlighted.  At a glance you can see where the recent, current postings are, making the reading of those blogs just one, easy click away. Then they announced it will no longer exist as of this summer.

I began  doing  research  asking other blog readers and bloggers what system they intended to switch to once Reader was gone.  I got a few suggestions but mostly I got groans and "I have no idea" statements.

That is until fellow blogger Jan emailed to say she had already switched to The Old Reader.  (Sorry, I cannot seem to link to that without directing you to my personnal Old Reader page.  But the url is www.theoldreader.com)  Jan's comment was that is was the most like Google's Reader that she had found.  I checked it out.  True - almost identical to Google's Reader and from what I read, developed in response to the need  created by the impending void that Reader's closing will leave.

In big bold print on the left side of their page it says +subsription.  All you do is put the www. address of the blog you want to follow in that spot, click  '+'  and you are there.  Put the 'theoldreader' site in your tool bar for easing clicking and vioila!  -  easy reading.

Thanks, Jan.

The May Long Weekend

Whatever you might call it - The May 2-4,   The May Long Weekend,  The First Long Weekend Of Summer,   The Victoria Day Weekend,  it is happening now.

Named after Queen Victoria, a lady who didn't have to do dishes, cook, clean or transport kids.  So do exactly none of those things yourself, this weekend.  Just enjoy the time and the weather.

Happy long weekend everyone - and thanks for reading.

                                     

"What Is That Building Back There?"

After all the _ itching  complaining I have done about our slow, rainy, cool entrance to spring this year, I find I am wrong.  Seems spring is right on target.

My test for whether or not we are having a slow start to spring, as I have mentioned in previous years,   always happens on May 11.  It was on that day 7 years ago that the realtor first showed us our current home.  Fred stood at the patio doors in the dining room and looked across the back yard. It was obvious that there was a building way back there beyond the shed but,  hidden in the leaves of the Birch trees, it was unrecognizable.   It was certainly not another house but the thought of a commercial building was dampening our enthusiasm for the house.

"What is that building back there?" Fred asked.

"The United Church", the realtor  said.  A much more agreeable neighbour.  We bought the  house.

Each year on May 11, I stand at the patio doors to see how the view of the Church compares to what we saw in 2006.  Turns out  my thoughts on the spring of  2013 were wrong.  It isn't as cool or slow  as I thought.  In fact it is just about on par with the spring of 2006.    What is that building back there?

Real Men . . . .

Over the years, there have been a few 'real men' sayings.  Real men wear pink.  Real men wear black.  Real men eat quiche.

But in my house, the one I like best is   -  real men wash windows.

It's the kind of thing that makes me realize - He could have his way with me.

A Not So Freezing Friday

 Last Friday, trying to drive to my dad's for an overdue visit, I was thwarted by the weather.  Today, although totally lacking in sunshine, at least offers dry roads for the 3 hour trip.

The travelling sock is going with me. 

 

 It is making the journey inside it's lovely new travel bag. 

 

Gifted to me  by a fellow blogger, a couple of months back when my Dad was so seriously ill, as an expression of her concern.  Warm and caring thoughts and a  lovely bag, complete with my name on it.  I know the best bloggers. 

A doctor, would most likely say that  Dad's health is not that good.  It takes little to cause him to be  out of breath or tired.  But  - he is happy in his new home, walks each day - 'to get his excercise' - and is enjoying his scooter once again, now that the snow has disappeared.  He goes out to lunch occasionally and even managed a trip to Toronto for son #2's art show.  He has accepted his new stage of life and new home with a graciousness that is a lesson to his children.  Both the sock and I are looking forward to the visit.