Hither, Yon.

Well, as Sam Gamgee said, I’m back.

For the last 16 days I was in the untractable wilderness of Southern Ontario – viewing corn farmers in their native habitat.

Also the more common sprawlus urbanissimus.

We had some serious fun in Ontario, mostly staying between London and Toronto, with a one-day frolic to Niagara Falls. My kind father-in-law rented us a car for us to use, and we put 2,000 kilometers on it! Yeah!

We are museum people, so we did quite a lot of that. The Royal Ontario Museum:

Biodiversity (very interactive, kids loved the foxes’ tunnel system)

Dinosaurs (“thank you Mummy, but I have seen quite enough bones”):

and a King Cobra (“Look scared baby!”)

We loved the “Stairway of Marvels” or whatever they’re calling it – spent quite a bit of time at the toy soldiers:

and the ROM had the Dead Sea Scrolls while we were there, which was cool if you’re a religious person but otherwise, you can probably give it a miss. Especially if you have young children, because look what will happen to them by the end.

We spent a couple of days in St Jacob’s, which is amazing and lovely, but has gotten a little commercial since I was last there 13 years ago. The farmers’ market is worth going to, on Thursdays and Saturdays, when the Mennonite farmers bring their quilts, jam, bread, sausages, and all manner of good things to sell. Here is the parking lot:

And while in St Jacob’s we visited the Maple Syrup Museum of Ontario – yeah baby!

I like this picture, a cross-section of a sugar bush maple, taps clearly visible.

We saw the Toronto Zoo, where we sat in the underwater viewing area while the polar bears were being fed:

 

…and the kids got to ride a camel.

The London Children’s Museum was a big hit, especially the “Street Where I Live” exhibit, where kids could put on real firefighter’s gear, carry a Canada Post mailbag, and get a glimpse of the possible drudgery coming their way…if you don’t study hard, kids.

     

And we learned about one of Canada’s heroes…the indomitable Laura Secord, venerated here not far from Brock’s Monument.

     

There are dozens more pictures, but I’ll spare you.

I did a bunch of knitting while I was there, but can’t show you any of it as it’s all for Christmas (three months from yesterday, if you’re wondering).

How have YOU been?

Carmen Shandiego

Verklempt

I’ve just been on Facebook checking on my best friend. I lose track of her because she’s awesome and has better things to do than stay in her house wiping counters and noses and butts and obsessing about wool all day long.

My friend is a wilderness adventure kayak guide. If you’ve been to Antarctica to spend $10,000 on a weekend of camping on a polar ice cap and getting close to Emperor penguins and minke whales, you might have met her. She’d have been the tall blonde amazon who knows everything and can save your life any number of ways.

I’m sure a lot of people have friends like her (well, nobody’s LIKE her), who they met and had adventures with, back in the day. I guess you could say that much of my connection with her is a subconscious desire to be what I was, when we first met.

We were on the UVic women’s rowing team together…though she rowed in a different eight than I did. We used to eat huge amounts of food, laugh until my neighbours complained, and fall asleep while watching movies late at night. We had to get up at 4.45 to get to the boathouse by 5.30, but it didn’t matter because we were amazingly strong and hot and invincible.

Now, I’m tired and harried, stretch marked, and I have quite a bit of grey in my hair.

Whereas my friend, may she live forever (and if anyone could, she would), is this woman.

And also this one

Conquering Greenland, if you’re wondering.

Jealous – sure. Self-pitying – yeah, okay. Overwhelmed with gratitude and love, just that she’s still in my life – absolutely.

She remembers 1967 quite well, thank you.

Mum and I took the kids to a restaurant today for a late lunch. We were drinking our Grenache-Syrah-Mourvedre and the girls were colouring their placemats, when “I’m a Believer” came on the radio.

“Hey!” Charlotte said, “This song’s from Shrek!”

“Actually, it’s an old song, babe,” I said, “by a band called ‘The Monkees’…or, am I wrong, was it the Beatles, Mum?”

“Nope, the Monkees.”

Charlotte looked skeptical. “’The Monkees’? ‘The Beatles’? Why would anyone name their bands after monkeys and beetles?”

There was a pause as my mum swirled her red wine, then said, dry and worldly-wise, “You had to be there, kid.”

It was perfect. I laughed my head off.

Poor Charlotte. Wait til she sees my Yard Birds album.

Time’s a-wastin’.

Tomorrow is Charlotte’s 8th birthday extravaganza. She has planned an enormous Build-a-Bear party for basically everyone she knows, except the neighbour girl who recently (oh, who am I kidding, ‘continuously’) bossed her around.

And that’s what is known as ‘comeuppance'. NO CAKE FOR YOU, HA.

At this very moment, party being tomorrow, I should be cleaning something, or baking something. Instead, I’m posting about a couple of books I keep meaning to talk about: “Socks from the Toe Up” and “Mother Daughter Knits”.

“Socks” is the baby of Wendy Johnson, who writes Wendy Knits. This book has got some cool stuff, plus lots of tips for basic toe-up sock construction. The patterns are nice. (Weirdly, though, many of them don’t continue all the way around the back of the leg – the patterning is just on the front.) My favourite so far are the Labyrinth socks (Ravelry link) but I haven’t cast them on yet…just need the perfect yarn.

This is a great book if you’re a sock knitter in general, and especially if you usually knit them top-down and are wondering about a switch. Wendy has included instructions for a good heel-flap imitation, too, so you won’t be limited to short-row heels.

Socks from the Toe Up gets:

3/3

“Mother-Daughter Knits” is from Sally Melville and her daughter Caddy Melville-Ledbetter. Sally is apparently a friend of my mother-in-law, and I think I might try to wangle some kind of introduction – based on this book, I would LOVE her. (And her daughter, too.)

There is a lot of good stuff in this book. I’m impressed with the sections on fitting body shapes – they’ve gone to a lot of trouble to explain the theory and application of knit design, including changing parts of the pattern to suit your figure, and what to wear WITH your chosen sweater shape. I like that – so often, as they say in the book, a nice piece is ruined by an off bit of styling.

I love the Camelot Coat, designed by Sally. I also like Caddy’s Minidress, although that is not my usual style (cap sleeves, argh!) – but the back is marvellous.

I see a lot of pattern books and mostly they are the same old, same old, but this one really appeals. There is more good information than I expected, the sizing range is generous, and the designs are pretty. Check out “Mother-Daughter Knits” if you get a chance.

Mother-Daughter Knits gets:

3/3

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And now I really must go plan the cake. Charlotte wants layers of both vanilla AND chocolate, plus real buttercream. I believe this to be in honour of the “Buttercream Cub” from Build-a-Bear.

Which, by the way: cute, but what a racket they’re pulling. They are masters of the up-sell – and now they’ve got my daughters trying to pull out their own teeth in order to get money to spend at the Build-a-Bear Workshop.

Literally, they are trying to pull out their own teeth. Emily actually succeeded in getting one out, last night, but she’s in the lucky position of having at least three teeth that are currently in varying degrees of looseness, and are therefore potentially extractable for the Cause. Charlotte doesn’t have any loose teeth at the moment, but the way she’s pushing them around, she soon will.

Off to whip some butter. The cake has to be especially soft and creamy, so my children will be able to eat it with their bare gums.

Whirlwind

It's busy. This is how I have felt lately:

No Foolin’.

Hey, lady:

You are wandering around the grocery store with one ear glued to a cell phone, your iPod in your other hand, diamonds dripping off you, shooting verbal abuse at your two children between the inane, slanderous conversation you are having with your phone, and loading your cart with chips, diet mixers, Red Bull and Lean Cuisine.

I followed you around the aisles for forty minutes, getting my own jobs done, and I think I have your measure.

I do not believe you are a yogini studying balance and centredness, no matter how many lululemon logos you are sporting – I counted four. Five if I include the bag. You can wrap yoga wear around your soft, dimpled, privileged arse every day of your clueless life, if you like. When I look at you, I see Kmart clearance.

Peace out.

Shannon