A joyful noise

"...With trumpets and sound of cornet make a joyful noise before the LORD, the King. Psalms 98:4-6 "

Those of you know know me would say I'm more spiritual than religious, but I just happen to think this particular quote applies.

Christmas concerts seem to be the embodiment of all that is sweet and pure and excited and carefully practiced for the season. They are slightly tacky-glue-with-glitter, but they are also a goal for kids to work towards (complete with performance anxiety), and truly, since even I was a kid, have marked the beginning of Christmas.

Sure, to the cynics, they're a jostling, sweaty, noisy, neck-craning cheek-to-jowl with strangers assault-on-the-ears experience when time could be better spent shopping for that last present, drinking Christmas cheer with colleagues or just listening to some orchestrated Bach on the Boes speakers.

But I went to hear my baby. (Okay, she's ten, but she's still my baby.)

She played her shiny brand-new trumpet, joyfully making noise that sounded suspiciously like music, for all her six weeks of learning an instrument she'd never tried before November. (There she is, second from left in that horn section, beside Annaliese in the Santa hat.)

And there was a gym full of other parents and siblings and grandparents doing the same thing, listening to their sweet babies who had, amongst all the other challenges of school and homework and chores and family commitments and roomcleaning and everything else kids do these days to become "balanced", somehow managed to miraculously learn a whole new skill well enough to honour us with their effort.

Merry Christmas. I wish you.

Shuswap memories

We spent, arguably, the best week of summer in the Shuswap, specifically in the hidden gem known as Scotch Creek. Used to camping, we were in pure luxury in an outfitted log cabin with running water, stoves, beds, electric light and a bath. A few moments stroll away from the warm and clean lake. Pure heaven.

While we were there, Aurora emerged from the water only long enough to sleep.

I nosed out the best of the local fruit...and promptly made 5 kinds of jam with it to bring home and enjoy all year. (Thanks to everyone tolerating the kitchen heat) Maybe to share, with my patient cabinmates, especially!

And...we found the BEST-ever cinnamon bread, perfect for French toast, served with lots of maple syrup, fresh fruit and, of course, bacon.

Love is...

...not necessarily not having to say you're sorry - although we all know it surely helps when needed.

For us, it's a whole bunch of things. There was a little post on Ravelry boards recently about what this is, and I was going through a bunch of recent pictures, and I found a few that for me, truly showed what love means in our family.

An unexpected bouquet of strawberries & chocolate at the end of a long, difficult few weeks says volumes. I was even able to share the love with my friends!
Aurora loves her cat, Hattie - who (by the way of her ears) does not always love being held, but who does it anyway, because she loves Aurora right back.

My sister must love us a lot - she manages, every year, to take our annual picture, with her lovely long arms held out with the camera, when she does a whirlwind tour in our direction, or when we're visiting her in Cold Lake or Edmonton. This is often taken after many hours of missed sleep from us catching up on life.

I love my garden - this year in pots only, due to selling and moving - and it just feels like love right back when I wake up in the morning and go out on the porch to greet the day...and these blooms are there to say good morning. Love, for me, is when Jason waters them for me when I can't.

Speaking of Jason, his gift of Artigano lattes to me, often when I need one most but don't ask for it (he just disappears in the morning & shows up with it - in time to drink on the porch with my flowers) is just awesome.

As is his willingness to get "dressed" by Miss A, never mind getting photographed in the outfit when she begs him to. Yes, that is a ShamWow (which Aurora loves), that he is brandishing. No parent ever felt prouder (and humiliation never enters the scene.)

And for Jason, Pizza=Love. So, why not get the best we can, when we can? We love Nick's Pizza. Crispy on the bottom, gooey on the top, deliciousness. Mmm.

Jason also discovered a new love this summer: He taught at a creative writing camp for teenaged kids in July put on by the Young Alberta Book Society - and what a bunch of kids. These kids truly love the written word, and were just the most amazing bunch of young people I've seen in action. The group dynamic was unimaginably supportive, and Jason fell in love with teaching...and the energy from these incredibly talented kids. The gesture they're making is a "standing O(vation)", in homage to Gail Sidonie Sobat, the woman behind the event.

My friend Anne showed some pretty awesome love to me during the heat wave (sadly, we long for one now) this July. When she heard of my longing for a lime slurpee - and discovery of one up the street, but knew I was cooped at the yarn store (never a bad thing really), she marched right over there and came back with a pair of the biggest lime slurpees I've ever seen. I love her for that.

The yarn store has been the centre of a lot of love for me. I love it there - I find my peace there. I find things I love (mmm, fibre...), I plan to make things for the people I love, and we knitters sure do talk about the people we love, when we're there - and God knows those women have helped me deal with so much of the loves in my life!

Aurora has found love there, too...in the form of Correna's puppies. She first met Honey & Juno about two years ago, and pined for one of her own. And Juno had puppies recently...and Aurora has utterly fallen in love with one of those, too. Which might just become one of her own...

For the birds

It ain't summer till you have a lime slurpee.

That's what I think.

Hot day = need for lime and ice. Only place in town I know to get 'em is 7-11 in Bridgeland, but they run out fast. The guy who works there only on Saturdays is the only guy (he says) to order it in.

Memories of Stampede

Being a true-born Calgarian, Stampede is sort of a season for me. Kind of like Christmas. You prepare for it, you survive it, you move on, knowing it's coming next year. Hard to get whipped into the frenzy - I don't even go to the Parade (shocked gasps from the audience, I know). It gets in my way of going downtown. Tourists slow me down.

And yet, this year, I found myself more drawn in than usual. I entered some knitting in the "exhibition" portion of the Calgary Exhibition & Stampede (and got a 3rd-place rosette for my entrelac hat!). I volunteered to show people how to spin sheep fleece to yarn in the Barns with the Rare Breeds association, and in the Cabin near the Exhibition section, with my guild, the Sheep Creek Weavers. Riel was in town, doing her fighter-pilot thing with a static display of an F-18 jet (well, part of it, anyway) along with the other parts of our military. (She was in the parade, too! I even caught that bit on streaming real-time online coverage from the air-conditioned spacious comfort of my office but don't tell anyone). And Aurora had managed to fanagle a delay for her annual Montreal trek to be in town long enough to partake of the festivities.

Me, I went for the mini-donuts (gotta watch those suckers go down the river of oil). But then Riel got me in to the Chuckwagon races - for the first time ever, I got close enough to them to get mud on my hat...something you can't understand until you've felt the wind from a horse & rider barrelling by and the thunk! of a chunk of mud smacking your head. And because she's who she is, I got to go to the Chuck barns and see horses and muckety-mucks and drink Calgary Stampede-emblazoned Budweiser beer. Cool.

But I did get to take the kid, too. I brought her with me late on the last Saturday, and we did a kid's ride, and she finally got her greatest wish: to see the ShamWOW! presentation up close & personal, and own a set of her very own. Plus we ate things on a stick (a Tornado Potato). And she did a kid's ride that looked pretty cool - some kind of controlled reverse bungee jump. And then we watched the Grandstand Show...I have to admit, it was some good entertainment. Lucky kid, the next day, her Uncle Mik, AND Auntie Riel took her on the mean rides and behind-the-scenes experiences few Calgarians - and tourists - get at the Greatest Show on Earth. Great initiation.

But, me, my feet got really tired. Perhaps it's because wasn't wearing cowboy boots. Good thing two bits'll get you a short but sweet massage.

Picnic at Grampa's

It's just not a meal at the Kendall's without awesome food, home-grown beef, and some kind of kerfuffle involving an animal. Sometimes it's a cow, or a coyote (getting shot during dinner whilst prowling the cattle for an unattended calf), or a mule, or a dog.

Given that the cattle are gone, our choices were limited.

The Southern Kendalls - that is, Uncle David & Auntie Marion (Arizona) plus Cousin Rebecca (California) were in town, and most of us locals showed up. Auntie Olwyn & Uncle Monte brought a cooler full of yumminess, and my newly pregnant cousin Lindsay (and Juan) made munchies (and tasted them while at it - after all, they are eating for two) to tide us over. Auntie Laura was buzzing the kitchen with David & Marion shucking corn, when Grampa came busting in, badly needing a bucket of water for Chester.

This was new. Nobody worries about Chester. In fact, we all are often very busy getting him to go away. Chester is the Chesapeake Chocolate Lab Grampa adopted a few years ago, and he's a bundle of energy and is more than a little OCD about his "stick". A stick to Chester is anything he can coerce someone to toss for him more than once - so he can go get it, again & again. Today it was a partially rotted log. Last time I visited, it was a huge rubber shingle Grampa had dropped from his roofing project. Another time it was a broken bicycle tire.

Suddenly everyone was on the porch, bent over....Chester. The silly pooch had convinced the two visiting kids - second cousins, I guess, being progeny of Donnamom's Cousin Paul - to throw and throw and throw his "stick" for him for probably more than an hour. In summer. Nobody was keeping track because, well, the kids were busy and Chester wasn't bugging anyone. So, Chester stopped, finally, when he passed out, collapsing near the porch.

Poor Grampa. He was worried. And everyone worries when Grampa worries.

So we got cold packs and buckets of water and more water, and poured them on Chester, and coaxed him back to the land of the living.

And when that dratted dog could barely prop himself up again, on his two very wobbly front legs (ignoring the fact that his back end was not moving from the "passed out" position), the first thing he did was lean over to wrap his mouth around his stick...and promptly fell on his face.

Ever practical, Rebecca finally had the sense to hide his stick.

And then Shaun & Kristy showed up...with a puppy. Who proceeded to find Chester's stick, steal it, and make Chester follow him around.

So we decided to eat dinner.

Buckets, Balls and Birthday Cake

These Recreation folks I work with sure know how to live the department name!

I shot my first bucket of balls of the season this Monday. What an awesome deal - $12 for a large bucket of balls plus an AMAZING burger (sorry, no pics, I was too hungry), at Inglewood Golf Club. They offer this every day 11-2 (till 4 on Fridays). I didn't know why I didn't do this more often!

I was stoked. I got a few great shots. Remembered to open up my club. Address the ball correctly. Swing hard. Keep my eye on the ball. A large bucket is a LOT of balls.

And then the next day, I remembered why I pause between trips to the course. I could barely move. My right arm was pretty stiff & sore...even picking up the phone was good exercise. Which is why I NEED to go more often.

Especially if I keep eating like this. Another month, another birthday in the group, and this time, we splurged on Amandine Bakery's Choco-Truffle cake. Happy birthday Dennis! And me, I'll be booking some more driving range time. And maybe a tee time to boot.

This hand is one year old June 21

This is my niece Zoe's hand. She and her twin sister Sophie turned a whole YEAR old on Sunday, June 21, Summer Solstice. And Father's Day.

They are pretty amazing girls - each very individual - and just because they are amazing.

Sam & Gary, my longtime friends and siblings by choice (love those kinds of family members, don't we?) are such happy parents...these girls are little miracles after Gary's bout with cancer only 6 short years ago.

And Aurora is one happy cousin...grateful to have a pair of understudies. Perhaps they will grow to become "coneheads" just like her...

Bunnies and birds - June 12

I had a pretty extraordinary brush with animal life the first weekend of June.

On June 5, I made friends - albeit briefly - with a Northern Flicker. I was driving by on Highfield Road just off Blackfoot and a nasty magpie and crow were taking turns dive-bombing him on the side of the road. I thought the worst but then saw him flap his wings...and turned around to go get him. I probably shouldn't have but I just couldn't imagine the guy getting pecked to death.

He let me pick him up - no fussing - and I brought him back to the office, found him a box and a T-shirt and let him curl up in there. He was watchful - but the fountain in my office and the quiet of a Friday got to him and soon he was asleep, with his beak under his wing. I figured I'd be tired, too, after getting attacked. He had some nasty peck-marks near his tail, and I know nothing about birds.

The wildlife centre said to take him to the Calgary Avian Pet Clinic for triage - and I hated to do it, but at the end of the day, I had to wake the guy up and take him in. I think the stress of the car-travel did it - when I called the next day they said my little buddy didn't make it. I was pretty sad. He was so gorgeous, with big spots, and nice red markings on his neck - and salmon-coloured tailfeather shafts. My birding friends tell me he was probably a hybrid - which is common in Alberta - of a Yellow-Shafted and Red-Shafted Flicker. And that, for him to have been getting picked on, he might have had issues before I "helped" him.

But Spring is full of life here - and the mama bunny in our neighbourhood (we suspect she is an escaped pet who prefers the wild side - the jackrabbits ignore her) showed up on Sunday with her new baby. They look so soft, and chinchilla-like! The baby was chowing down on dandelions, and mama was pretty watchful. I can't believe how fast he's grown - only a couple weeks later this baby is nearly full-sized (and now, we don't see him as much). But we leave out our wilted lettuce and greens, and somehow they're always gone by morning!

Circle of life.

First BBQ of the season

First week of June, Bexx and the Boyz were in town. Nope, they're not a rock band - but they could be! My dear friend Rebekah and her lovely boys, Alexandre (3ish) and Zeppelin (5monthsish) who live in Kelowna came to Calgary via Ottawa on the Friends & Family Visiting Train.

We were lucky enough to have them stay two nights with us. What joy to have the little ones, to see things from the simple joys of three years old again, to rock a baby to sleep and hear his coos in the morning. And to see my lovely Bexx, blooming into her adult self and being a marvelous mom. To celebrate - we sent them home with a parting supper of our first BBQ of 2009! Burgers, dogs, my secret-recipe potato salad, and fried onions & mushrooms. Classic Calgary fare for our Kelowna relocatees.

What's pretty neat is that Aurora and Bexx have a special relationship. We met in Clearwater, she finishing high school (putting her instructors through their paces with thoughtful questions and not-in-the-pack quiet rebellion), me 28, newly pregnant and just finished my Comms degree - and both of us with a love of post-modern theorists, and admiring her 18-year-old fervor. Aside from being "there" when I was in labour with Aurora, Bexx was the first person besides me, Aurora's dad & uncle to hold my new baby. And when Aurora was only three months old, the sound of Bexx' voice dropping by after school would mean an insisted visit including holding and talking time (or I'd pay the price in tears) of no less than 45 minutes. After high school, Bexx was sweet enough to come & stay with me in Blue River to nanny Aurora - before being wooed by ski resort employment. Still, Aurora & Bexx forged an unbreakable bond - which seems to have carried to Bexx' own son, Alexandre.

When Alexandre was born, with his mama living in Calgary, we were privileged to be able to look after him - and I could see another bond forming between Alexandre & Aurora. Even today, although there are large gaps of time between visits, the two truly enjoy each other's company. Perhaps we need to get to Kelowna more often!

I have been gifted a loom...

It's true. An amazing, unexpected gift. For the fibre-savvy, it's a Louet Hollandia Counter-Marche 4-harness floor loom, about 51" across.

For me, I'm beside myself with joy. Please don't pinch me, I don't want to wake up.

It is waiting patiently for me, at Make 1 Yarn Studio http://www.make1yarns.com/ where the shop's (and loom's) past owners, the very generous Amy & Sandra, have instructed the lovely Bess, its new owner, to arrange for me to take it to my loving home.

Let's check the moon cycle - is it a blue moon? I had thought from the universe like this only come along that often. Never mind the monetary value (which is huge), this is something much more significant. I've been getting a lot of "it's time to start weaving" messages over the past two years in my fibre journey; there is a small 24" table loom waiting for me in Millarville that came my direction for a song about 18 months ago, waiting for my lack of space, soon to be rectified.

Did I mention I'm beside myself? Or at least beside the loom? I had to go visit it today at lunch.

It even comes with a boxful of gorgeous yarns previously set up for a project. And a few other "necessary" pieces, as Bess tells me.

I've been renovating, with one of the purposes to allow me to have some "studio" space in the basement (lower level, we'll call it now), for my (ahem) three spinning weels, many pounds of fibre (yarns, roving and fleeces) and perhaps, in my wildest dreams, one day, a floor loom. (Or to eventually have the place up to snuff enough to sell, for a place that has studio space.) Looks like the universe is telling me to dream wild!

Now, I just need to figure out how the darned thing works. Guess I'd better get serious about those weaving lessons!

Birthday Ice Cream

It is a sunny day in Calgary - a very typically May day for here. Cool wind underpinning but bright and sunny. And in my new job, these wonderful Recreation folks have a tradition to celebrate the month's birthday on one day. Although mine's May 8, they waited this year for me, till we returned from our Eastern jaunt, and we celebrated today.

In this work-group, the previous month's birthday people provide the next month's birthday people's treat - and it's not always cake. To my pleasure and surprise, we got Turtles Ice Cream...with sprinkles!

So we all trooped out, after lunch (or a lunchtime run for some) to meet in the tiny greenspace in our quasi-industrial office setting, and scooped up softened ice cream and sugar cones, and had them be-sprinkled. I was so excited at the sprinkles - little pieces of happy colour - and I felt like I was eight again.

And then, we realized we were all standing and figured we needed a picnic table. So, we enterprising Reccies (as apparently those working in the Recreation business unit are known) spied an unloved one half-hanging in the parking lot, and more-than-happily relocated it to its new home. We have already made plans to paint it and get it a tablecloth, and maybe a sibling, and to enjoy table-and-seating space in our makeshift park! Of course, following City protocol and ensuring all environmental, engagement, budgetary, safety and land-use policies are followed :)

Over for waffles

Jason's co-writer/director and his family do not have people over for dinner. Instead, being avant-garde and out-of-the-box people, they have people over on Saturday mornings for waffles. I have been lucky enough to partake in this ritual more than once; considering a year's 52 Saturdays and all the people they know, it is an honour to be invited.

And...Tania makes the amazing italian-style cappuccinos with the caffettiera http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moka_pot while Robert in his creative glory drags out the cookbook older than he is and liberally dusts it with flour scooped with the vintage diner-style coffee cup he uses to measure, and mixes the batter into his signature fluffy, fragrant, delicious waffles.

We eat one at a time, along the bar they use for a table, and decorate the waffley-goodness with fresh strawberries and some prunes Tania's cooked up in Madeira and other things to just taste heavenly. There is organic maple syrup and we had the forethought to bring a yummy Chaumes cheese with fabulous orange mold we brought back from Ottawa - all amazing together.

We got to play with Freja's dollhouse (complete with a garden housing parsnips, cabbage and beets) and coax her into talking after she showed us her party dress and ate the strawberries we chopped for her.

Saturday morning bliss. Thank you, Cuffleys.

Time travel

Stepping into Merrickville was a bit like stepping back in time. As I said yesterday, the buildings are built to last - and you can just feel the history exuding from the very streets. It's gentle, it's paced, and it embraces the old plus the new of things. Not just doing things because that's the way they've always been done, Merrickville also seems to embrace the newer generations, never mind the tourists.

If you're in the Ottawa area and want a wee getaway, it's a must-do. Plus, as the Chamber says, the parking's free! http://www.realmerrickville.ca/ (and you've got to love it when Holy Trinity church is in the Chamber!)

One of my favourite stores there was Mrs. McGarrigle's Fine Food Shop. They make their own fabulous brand of mustard, as I didn't find out till I was back on Bank Street in Ottawa (and found The Mustard Shop, full of...you guessed it) and saw it there. But they also had this great collection of clocks on the wall (available for purchase, too), and loved the place-times, including Amelia. I joked they should have a "Kathleen" clock, since my motto ought to be "on-time is when I get there".

They also had a great art-wall full of blocks down a staircase. I love it when for-purchase display is art in and of itself. The whole store was like this, a treat for all the senses. Including my tongue with an amazing dark chocolate sauce that snuck its way home in my suitcase...

Many reasons to return...