Cottage Adventures

Well, I did have an adventure yesterday.  I was invited back to my friend's cottage to spend a day (or a couple of days) because the weather has been very hot and humid recently.

I had decided to make it a day trip, because I had my last pilates class this morning (and I didn't want to miss it), and because I'm pretty sure my girlfriend is a world class snorer.  I know I snore myself from time to time, but there's nothing worse than being trapped overnight in a strange place with someone who is literally sawing logs.

This decision meant that I would follow my friend up to the cottage and then drive myself home.  Before I continue with the story, I had better explain that I have no sense of direction.  It's a genetic gift from my father, who could get lost in a phone booth.  I know intellectually that moss grows on the north side of trees, and also that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west but this is not really helpful when (not if) I get lost.  Last visit I rode with my friend, who has been driving to her cottage for over 25 years.  I tried to make mental note of landmarks on the way, however, it's not like there are a lot of landmarks in lake country Ontario.  Basically you are looking at rocks, trees, the occasional swamp, and then repeat the rocks and trees.  If I wound up going the wrong direction it would take a long time for me to realize it.

We stopped for lunch at a beautiful restaurant, and had a great visit at her cottage.  We sat in the shade on her deck, and enjoyed a peaceful view of the lake.  Around late afternoon, the weather changed abruptly from sunny and hot to very threatening.  When the storm got started, it was really neat.  There was thunder and lightening and the wind started to gust violently from every direction.  We were standing in the cottage watching the show when a total of 3 trees (2 maples and an oak) were blown over.  It must have been a microburst, because everything happened in less than 10 minutes, and there was never the sense of a funnel cloud or tornado.  We really enjoyed feeling safe in the cottage, and seeing all the debris in the lake and around the property.  We were also very lucky that taller trees remained standing, and nothing landed on the building.

I was nervous because I wasn't sure if any trees had blown over on the private road leading to her cottage, so I left as soon as things calmed down.  Fortunately, the road was clear, and by the time I got to the highway there was no sign of a storm passing through. 
Then I had to find my way home.  I don't think I breathed until I passed Yellow Rock Road (somebody painted a large rock highway line yellow) and then a tourist teepee attraction I recognized from our trip in.  Once I found the first small town I knew for sure I was heading the right direction, and it felt good to see the familiar landmarks flash past.

Odds and Sods

I've been oot and aboot enjoying our weather, since the rainfest which happened last week.  I am procrastinating on the garden and containers, so things are still not the way I want them to be.  It's hard to point the blame at anyone when the problem is me.  I've been enjoying hand piecing quilt blocks (I have a total of 4 completed blocks and one work in progress) under the umbrella on our deck.  When I get frustrated I dig the pitchfork out of the shed and root around in the gardens for a while, then return to the deck.

We poured boiling water on a small anthill on the patio, and it worked spectacularly.  It didn't appear to be a big deal at the time, but the next morning the ants had brought out hundreds of dead, and they abandoned the site.  So last night I got inspired and boiled the kettle and my two biggest pots full of water, and poured them over portions of the biggest anthill by the rose garden.  So far there doesn't seem to be the same result, possibly because the original kill site was between the patio and the house foundation so there was a lot of concrete to trap the boiling water.  The big colony is just a patch of weedy dirt in the middle of the lawn, and there is ample room for the ants to just move over.  We've tried putting ant bait on wax paper for them to take back to the queen, and that seems to have reduced the numbers somewhat.  The problem with the bait is that we have to pick a time when it isn't windy, or rainy, and we know that our grandpuppy won't be visiting.  We're not always that organized.

Huck and Tuggy are having a blast.  They're spending most afternoons in their crate on our deck, enjoying the fine weather too.  Last night they discovered at least one fly in the house and spent the evening chasing it from window to window.  Someone must have eventually caught and eaten it, because I haven't seen or heard it since yesterday.  Every time I came into a room I found one cat or the other clinging to the windowsill with all four paws, following the fly  with their eyes.  I guess I should explain that because we have an older house the windows are actually flush with the wall, there is no actual sill.  This means the window has to be open for the cats to sit there, and even then there isn't a lot of room to spare.  Tuggy in particular overlaps the sill in an alarming fashion.

I have not abandoned this blog.  I know I haven't posted regularly and I may not manage every day during the summer, because I tend to have a short attention span in good weather.  There are so many things to do, and I enjoy being outside when the weather is decent.  Please check in from time to time, and I'll do the same.  If there's a stretch of rotten weather, I'll probably be here a little more often. 

I hope you have a great summer.  Get outside, dig in the dirt, read a good book.  Go to the beach, barbeque instead of heating up your kitchen.   There will be lots of time to blog and play on the computer when the weather is bad.    Or maybe the computer fairy will bring me a laptop (but don't hold your breath).

Frustration

So yesterday my goal was to finish the hand pieced quilt square for class on Saturday.  Contrary to popular opinion it isn't a difficult task, I actually find it soothing.  You start by sewing the triangles together to make a square.  When you have all the squares complete you sew three together to make a row.  When you have all three rows done, you sew them together to make a block.  Simple, and elegant.  Until you start sewing rows together, each individual piece is relatively small so it goes together quickly.  The biggest problem occurs if you don't consult the pattern to be sure that you're sewing the squares together correctly.  And if you don't notice that you've made a mistake in a row, until you're sewing two rows together, then you reach the level of frustration illustrated above.

I had all my squares done, correctly.  I had two rows sewn together, incorrectly and one row pinned together correctly.  It took me a while to figure out that I had sewn the dark blue triangles to the centre square instead of the green triangles.  Fortunately it was still pretty hot and humid yesterday, so I hid out in the basement and figured everything out.  Then I sewed it together correctly and carried it around with me for the rest of the night so I could admire it.  

That makes a total of two blocks completed now, in a lap quilt that will probably require about 20.  Here is what the finished block looks like on the right.  It still looks a little funky because I haven't got the precise measuring habit yet, and besides, it needs to be ironed.  I'm told that the Mennonites, who are world class quilters, always make a deliberate error somewhere in one of their hand made quilts.  Because only God is perfect.  Fortunately, I don't have to worry about making a mistake on purpose at this point in my quilting career.

I can't believe that I'm enjoying this process as much as I am.  Last class, I had to take a break and go upstairs to the fabric shop and clomp around muttering to myself because I was frustrated.  I only got two large triangles sewed together through the entire class, and had to complete everything as homework.  My needle was too big, my thread was too thick, my thimble was on my wrong finger.  You name it, I was doing it incorrectly.  But, once I got it home and sat down by myself everything fell into place.  That doesn't mean that I'm planning on hand piecing every quilt block. 

I'm starting my next project today.  It's a rag quilt for my oldest son's friend, who is having a little girl at the end of June.  The first step is to be sure that all the blocks are squared and the correct size (9" x7").  I've never done this before and am a little intimidated, but am planning on leaping forward with both feet.  The first quilt I ever completed used this technique, and I know how forgiving it is.  I am actually pretty confident that I can do this project entirely on my own, and have it done before the baby arrives.  I'll keep you posted.

It's not the Heat....

It's a toasty day today.  I haven't heard the explanation, but apparently we are enjoying a wave of hot, humid air from somewhere down in the States.  I haven't turned the air conditioning on, and have no intention of doing so because of the new time-of-day hydro charges imposed on us by our present government.  That's a rant for another day, and one that nobody else is interested in hearing about in this blog.  Anyway.  The heat and humidity are only going to hang around today, and then the temperature will drop fairly dramatically and I'm hopeful that we'll finally get some badly needed rain.

I buzzed around this morning and got everything on my list done.  First of all was to mail that baby afghan to my cousin's daughter.  The baby was over a week late but arrived safely last night.  I had been procrastinating with the afghan because it's hot to knit when the project is long enough to occupy your lap.  I was beginning to feel like the babe would not arrive until I finished my project, and as it happens I finished around 4pm yesterday and he was born around 8:30.  Coincidence?  You decide.

Then I went grocery shopping.  I'm going to spatchcock a smallish chicken and marinate it for a few hours this afternoon.  Then I'll cook it on the barbecue and we'll have leftovers for a couple of days.  When it gets this hot out I try to plan things so that I cook early in the morning, or barbecue later in the afternoon.  With a couple of salads that should do us for a while, I hope.

I still haven't bought all my container plants.  The pansies are not happy with the heat, so I have to replace them soon.  I used to plant coleus and begonias and such because of all the shade in the backyard, but of course that has changed.  I'm going to experiment with geraniums and wax begonias for one container, and wait to see the results before I go nuts.   I have been given a bitter melon plant and some Japanese eggplants by someone who works with my husband.  I've never grown either, but will plant them by my back deck and keep my fingers crossed.  There is definitely a rabbit roaming the neighbourhood and nibbling gardens, but maybe it's called bitter melon for a reason?  There's a picture of it above, doesn't it look pretty?  I love growing things I've never tried before, and I have no idea what is going to happen next.  If I'm successful, I'll have to check out some recipes.

Now that the baby project is over, I have to get my act together and finish the hand pieced quilt square before next week's class.  I've received an email with the square we'll be tackling on Saturday and it looks like I'll have to hit the store to find a new blue and green fabric to coordinate with the ones I have.  Possibly a new gold or yellow background fabric as well.  I enjoy searching out the perfect match for what I already have and would have done that today if I had remembered to bring my glasses.  It's hard to match colours using sunglasses!  Since I'm only buying fat quarters, it isn't a decision that will break the bank.

Why Owls

After his unscheduled flight and abrupt landing the other day, I'm sure my former ceramic owl is asking "why me" from his perch in the garbage.  I guess the first question is, why owls?

I don't know.  I've been attracted to, and collecting owls, since I was a teenager.  There is something about them that appeals to me.  They can look so dignified and wise and there is always an air of alertness and tension within them, as if they were planning to fly off at any moment.  Traditionally owls are associated with wisdom; the goddess Athena had an owl companion.  I always felt that owls would be good at keeping secrets too.  Owls have a very distinctive silhouette, and can't be mistaken for any other bird.

Over the years, I have received many owls as gifts.  It started over 30 years ago when my friend Joan gave me a picture of an owl for being her best man.  My parent's friends brought me an authentic Greek owl from their trip to Athens, and I bought myself an owl there during our 25th anniversary celebration.  I have a small black plastic owl on my key ring that my husband found in a big box store.  The owl used to hoot and his eyes flashed blue, but either his batteries were weak or I played with him too much.  He is silent now.  This Christmas my brother in law gave me an awesome owl hat and fingerless owl gloves.  I wore them all winter, and received many compliments.  I must remember to get a picture next year.

My computer screen saver is always owl related.  I used to have trouble locating good free owl wallpaper, but have found an excellent site now.  One of my sons gave me a book called "Hungover Owls" for Christmas.  It's based on the premise that although owls look dignified and wise they are, in fact, severely hungover.  There is a website with the same name, which posts pictures taken by readers and emailed in.  Then the author makes up a caption.  The humour can be very rude.  Do not go looking the website up and then emailing me to say that you are insulted, because you have been warned.  I have been known to have a juvenile and rude sense of humour, probably as a result of mothering male teenagers. 

Have I mentioned that my first, rag quilt, had two different owl fabrics in it?  Well, actually the same pattern but different colours.  When I was at the CreativeFest in Mississauga a few weeks ago I found a baby quilt that was adorable.  All it needs is to have the binding sewn on, but it has a very sixties vibe to it with owls and flowers in pinks and greens and golds and blues and oranges.  I fell deeply in love with it, and then remembered that one of my sons' friends was going to have a baby, so I had a perfect excuse to buy it.  

For Mother's Day, my daughter in law (with a little assistance from my son and her mother) made me a beautiful canvas owl knitting bag.  He is a goodly size, and will actually fit any project in progress, from afghan to quilt.  I love the colours and the imagination and will certainly be proud to take it to any of the classes I attend.

Oh, and my favourite cup of coffee?  It's cafe con leche, made in my bestest owl mug, and savoured at home on weekends when we're reading the papers.  In my experience, anything is better if it is owl related.

Kitty Games

I have no photos I can show you of the kitty boys' most recent and excellent adventures.  Mainly because I was so shocked at the time that a photograph was the last thing on my mind.

It all started a couple of days ago.  I've shown you the photograph of the display shelves in my living room, and how they're seasonally decorated with snowmen or owls.  Because I have far more snowmen than owls, I guess the bottom shelf looked too ... inhabited to Tugby because although he prowled amongst the snowmen he never did any damage.  But there was lots of space between owls, and although I have some relatively heavy metal owls we moved them off the shelves because they started to fall onto the landing below; they were too heavy to land on any passers by, accidentally.  I left a couple of larger owls on the shelf, thinking that they were visually imposing and would be safe.  Not so.  The other night, one of my ceramic owls took flight, and landed in pieces on the stairs below.  Tugby just happened to be beside him when it happened, and I don't know who was more shocked:  Tugby or the owl.  You could almost see a cartoon caption with the words "I thought he was a bird, Mum, and birds can fly!" coming out of his mouth.

Here you see a photograph of the display before the owls were moved.  The ceramic owl who is no longer among us is directly to the right of Hooty McOwl.  Now, here is a picture of Tugby in his favourite perch.  He loves to rocket across the floor and end up on the stereo shelves, or clinging to the bottom display shelf with all four paws.  He scares the living daylights out of me, that one day I'll come home and find him sprawled on the landing below with a broken leg.  I can't think of any way to cat proof the display shelves.  I can understand the joie de vivre that Tuggy has when he tear asses across the living room and onto the shelves.  There is a painful lesson in my Tuggy's future, and I can't do anything to prevent it.  Keep your fingers crossed!


Then this morning I was getting dressed when I heard a peculiar noise in the kitchen.  It wasn't a 'something's broken and it wasn't me noise'.  It wasn't a 'I'm sure I can get catfood out of this cupboard if I just paw at it for a while' noise.  And it wasn't a 'Mum isn't here so I'm going to pound the daylights out of you' noise.  But it needed to be investigated.  When I went into the kitchen, Huck was crouched on the top of the pantry beside my garden door.  Which happens to be at least 6 feet in the air.  He has been fascinated by bugs on the ceiling recently, and I guess he finally figured out how to get closer to them.  He saw me standing there with my mouth open, jumped onto the kitchen table and then back to floor level.  I picked him up, checked for damage, and gave him a cuddle.


I have a sinking feeling we'll be spending some time at the vet's this summer, with the possibility of broken bones.  These are not my first cats, but they certainly are keeping me on my toes with my throat in my mouth.

Aches and Pains

Today is an achy day.  Partly because I've been out weeding in the garden.  Partly because I hurt my back in Pilates when my husband was away, and it's taking its sweet time to recover.  And of course, I've changed back to Weight Lifting after a few sessions of Fit for Life.  This cartoon is a good example of how I generally deal with discomfort.  First I ignore it, then I visit my chiropractor, then I hop into a warm bubbly Epsom salts bath, and then I take a Tylenol.  Today I can hardly wait for my bath, and I may take the Tylenol first.


The last thing I want to do is stop exercising and going to classes.  I didn't seriously hurt anything, it was just a warning to make me a little more cautious.  I may stay on progression 1 instead of bopping into progression 2, or attempting progression 3, until everything relaxes.  This summer after the formal sign up classes are over I'm planning to continue going to the gym to weight lift three times a week, and to go to a combination class twice a week.  I really enjoy feeling more fit and energetic when I am working out, and don't want to stop and then go through weeks of misery when Pilates starts again in September.  Because Pilates is non-negotiable in my life.  I have finally found something that I really enjoy doing, that is making a difference how I look and feel, and I don't want to stop.

I just finished reading a book called "Between a Rock and a Hot Place:  Why Fifty is Not the New Thirty" by Tracey Jackson.  It is a very informative book, laugh-out-loud funny in places, and I really enjoyed it.  She dwelt a little too long on the sections about botox and plastic surgery, as well as on her neurotic fear of breast cancer and tumours, but on the whole I would recommend this book.  One of the first point she makes is that as we age it is very important to find some form of exercise and stick to it, no matter what.  As we lose flexibility and muscle mass, we leave ourselves open to a variety of problems which will result in our body ageing faster than necessary.  


I have no intention of living forever.  And I agree with Tracey that I will never recover the body I neglected and ignored at thirty now that I'm over fifty.  But heading into the next few decades, I intend to be sure that my body is as resilient and flexible as possible.