Tonight is Binnie's book launch!
Well, one of them. The one I can actually get to.
It's a wonderful novella she's written, Harbour View. Much to weep over, and feel glad for at the same time, which to me is rather the point of literary fiction. If you can't get to the launch, you really should treat yourself to a copy of the book.
Just being there will be a treat for me; I always feel so inspired at literary outings. Usually I come home buzzing with so many ideas, the next day I sit down at my desk and hammer away at the keyboard without having to pause between any of them.
This would be something of a problem tomorrow, as I will have no time to myself whatsoever, but still. Given my track record with writing lately, even a problem would be something of a blessing.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Fall colours
Summer is absolutely, irretrievably over. But there are some consolations, including this random selection from yesterday:
Key Lime Pie from a friend, just because
Pumpkins, straight from the pumpkin patch
Dried maize
Flowers from a friend whose sweater I mended
Honeycrisp apples, grown in Ontario
Key Lime Pie from a friend, just because
Pumpkins, straight from the pumpkin patch
Dried maize
Flowers from a friend whose sweater I mended
Honeycrisp apples, grown in Ontario
Friday, October 16, 2009
Awesome fall sale
Twice a year, one of my local churches does a big fundraiser for its various programs and charities by hosting an Awesome Sale...
and today is the Fall installment!!!
I love the Awesome Sale. It's a well-known treasure trove of vintage furniture, glassware, clothing, toys, sportsgear, drapes, jewelry, and more - for the first couple of hours you can't find a parking space for several blocks around the church. I gave directions once to a lady who'd come by bus just to check it out.
It's hard not to get enthusiastic about a sale like that, even as you ask yourself how on earth one small neighourhood can cough up so much fabulousness. Eventually the donors are going to run out of old stuff to clear out, aren't they?
Hopefully not yet. Even showing up a few hours late I've had some great finds over the years, including a mint condition 1950s juice jug with still-bright red and green fruits on the side, and an unstained, hole-free vintage tablecloth and napkin set. I'm definitely not ready to lose this exciting semi-annual source of comfort shopping.
Three guesses what I'll be looking for this time around:
(wool sweaters
wool blankets
and big bags of buttons)
Stay tuned for the skinny on how I did!
and today is the Fall installment!!!
I love the Awesome Sale. It's a well-known treasure trove of vintage furniture, glassware, clothing, toys, sportsgear, drapes, jewelry, and more - for the first couple of hours you can't find a parking space for several blocks around the church. I gave directions once to a lady who'd come by bus just to check it out.
It's hard not to get enthusiastic about a sale like that, even as you ask yourself how on earth one small neighourhood can cough up so much fabulousness. Eventually the donors are going to run out of old stuff to clear out, aren't they?
Hopefully not yet. Even showing up a few hours late I've had some great finds over the years, including a mint condition 1950s juice jug with still-bright red and green fruits on the side, and an unstained, hole-free vintage tablecloth and napkin set. I'm definitely not ready to lose this exciting semi-annual source of comfort shopping.
Three guesses what I'll be looking for this time around:
(wool sweaters
wool blankets
and big bags of buttons)
Stay tuned for the skinny on how I did!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Pantry soup
I decided to make an effort about supper last night before realizing I hadn't organized ingredients sufficiently compatible for anything but Pantry Soup, version three. And so, being too lazy to go out and shop, that's what I made.
Here is the recipe:
chopped onions, sauteed in butter
chicken stock
a can of crushed tomatoes
a can of mixed beans (kidney beans, chickpeas, etc.)
worcestershire sauce
a little sea salt
And here's the side:
thawed slices of rosemary focaccia bread
buttered
sprinkled with roasted garlic powder
and warmed in the oven till they're toasty
And here's the review:
The Soup - Ew.
But so sensible you feel you have to have seconds so you can eat chocolate chip cookies afterward without guilt.
The Garlic Bread - Very nice. Even if you dip it in the icky soup.
Remind me sometime to share the recipe for Pantry Soup - version one, which is actually pretty delicious.
Reminders to forget how to make versions two and three are also welcome, sigh.
Here is the recipe:
chopped onions, sauteed in butter
chicken stock
a can of crushed tomatoes
a can of mixed beans (kidney beans, chickpeas, etc.)
worcestershire sauce
a little sea salt
And here's the side:
thawed slices of rosemary focaccia bread
buttered
sprinkled with roasted garlic powder
and warmed in the oven till they're toasty
And here's the review:
The Soup - Ew.
But so sensible you feel you have to have seconds so you can eat chocolate chip cookies afterward without guilt.
The Garlic Bread - Very nice. Even if you dip it in the icky soup.
Remind me sometime to share the recipe for Pantry Soup - version one, which is actually pretty delicious.
Reminders to forget how to make versions two and three are also welcome, sigh.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Owl Pen
Yesterday as I was scrambling out the door I checked for the mail and found a parcel in the box. A book!
and I hadn't ordered any books!
Of course, I had to be late then, and stop to open it up. Inside I found The Owl Pen, by Kenneth M. Wells, beautifully illustrated by his wife, Lucille Oille.
Confusinger and confusinger - until I read the packing slip and saw it had been ordered for me by my cousin, the one who is so vastly clever at finding all the best books.
If the first page is anything to go by, I'm in for a real treat with this one, but what a treat it's been already. I don't think there's anything better than a lovely vintage hardcover book, sent by surprise to your very own mailbox.
(except maybe reading it over tea and biscuits.)
and I hadn't ordered any books!
Of course, I had to be late then, and stop to open it up. Inside I found The Owl Pen, by Kenneth M. Wells, beautifully illustrated by his wife, Lucille Oille.
Confusinger and confusinger - until I read the packing slip and saw it had been ordered for me by my cousin, the one who is so vastly clever at finding all the best books.
If the first page is anything to go by, I'm in for a real treat with this one, but what a treat it's been already. I don't think there's anything better than a lovely vintage hardcover book, sent by surprise to your very own mailbox.
(except maybe reading it over tea and biscuits.)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Raw material
My stealth goal for this past weekend - the one I planned under cover of other much more sensible goals, also achieved - was to acquire a whole mess of second-hand wool sweaters and felt them, so I can cut them up to make into Other Things.
Mission Accomplished!
I was able to resist starting into them, mostly because of those other more sensible deadlines, but I know I'm going to succumb before 10 more days have gone by. Even though the next 14 are filled with sensible deadlines too.
Meanwhile, I have a peachy-pink vintage wool blanket to get into hot water, bwa ha ha.
Mission Accomplished!
I was able to resist starting into them, mostly because of those other more sensible deadlines, but I know I'm going to succumb before 10 more days have gone by. Even though the next 14 are filled with sensible deadlines too.
Meanwhile, I have a peachy-pink vintage wool blanket to get into hot water, bwa ha ha.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Why not join the choir?
A few weeks ago a man, a longtime choir member who's moving out of the parish, got up in front of the congregation I was in and asked us all to ask ourselves not why we should join the choir, but rather, why not?
Well, I'll tell you why not.
Growing up, some of my happiest times with my dad and my sister were spent while she played piano and he and I sang. I don't pretend to be talented, but I knew I was with talented people who didn't mind how bad I was. We sang 30s and 40s hits, mostly, some straight, some campy, as with the truly gruesome "Prisoner of Love." I still remember most of the lyrics to "I Can Cook Too", the raspy voices we used, and the way my sister's fingers jumped down onto the keys for the opening chords.
Dad sang in the choir. He was a tenor, and he was so good everybody booked him for weddings and funerals. For a while until he had his first heart attack and couldn't climb the stairs to the loft any more, he was choir director. Technically he was with us for church services - we could hear him singing, and we sang along with him - but he never sat with us.
You'd think I'd be used that then, right?
But no. Twenty years now since he died and I still can't sing in church - or anywhere else for any length of time. I used to sing constantly - I even sang out traffic directions (popular) and an alert to imminent collision (less so) to a music-loving friend whose car radio was perpetually broken. Not now. My voice cuts out and breaks down and I follow quickly after. I have a niece who was born with my dad's talent and it still amazes me, the way she can push through emotion to get the sounds out, improving her delivery even more as she does it, which is even more amazing because she's pretty fabulous to start with.
All of which is to say that lately I've been remembering The Roches. My sister came across the music of these three a cappella genius sibs a long time ago and when she played their cassette for me, I was smitten. I listened to a lot of Roches during my crafty years, and maybe my renewed interest in Making is the reason I've been slipping over to YouTube to play some of my old favourites.
Yesterday, I bought their new disc, Moonswept. The three of them harmonize as wonderfully as ever and I love listening to them. Even if they do make me cry a little now.
(they probably won't make you cry, though. Especially if you read their dictionary.)
Well, I'll tell you why not.
Growing up, some of my happiest times with my dad and my sister were spent while she played piano and he and I sang. I don't pretend to be talented, but I knew I was with talented people who didn't mind how bad I was. We sang 30s and 40s hits, mostly, some straight, some campy, as with the truly gruesome "Prisoner of Love." I still remember most of the lyrics to "I Can Cook Too", the raspy voices we used, and the way my sister's fingers jumped down onto the keys for the opening chords.
Dad sang in the choir. He was a tenor, and he was so good everybody booked him for weddings and funerals. For a while until he had his first heart attack and couldn't climb the stairs to the loft any more, he was choir director. Technically he was with us for church services - we could hear him singing, and we sang along with him - but he never sat with us.
You'd think I'd be used that then, right?
But no. Twenty years now since he died and I still can't sing in church - or anywhere else for any length of time. I used to sing constantly - I even sang out traffic directions (popular) and an alert to imminent collision (less so) to a music-loving friend whose car radio was perpetually broken. Not now. My voice cuts out and breaks down and I follow quickly after. I have a niece who was born with my dad's talent and it still amazes me, the way she can push through emotion to get the sounds out, improving her delivery even more as she does it, which is even more amazing because she's pretty fabulous to start with.
All of which is to say that lately I've been remembering The Roches. My sister came across the music of these three a cappella genius sibs a long time ago and when she played their cassette for me, I was smitten. I listened to a lot of Roches during my crafty years, and maybe my renewed interest in Making is the reason I've been slipping over to YouTube to play some of my old favourites.
Yesterday, I bought their new disc, Moonswept. The three of them harmonize as wonderfully as ever and I love listening to them. Even if they do make me cry a little now.
(they probably won't make you cry, though. Especially if you read their dictionary.)
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