family matters

For whatever reason, my family moves a lot. It wasn't always so - I had only two childhood homes, but ever since there's been a lot of packing and unpacking. Curiously I never seem to get better at it. Just less likely to cry when things go wrong. Let's see, there was the time we had to hoist a sofa three storeys up the side of a house in a February ice storm (it still didn't fit). A mover who loaded my every possession in his grubby van and then held it all ransom until I ponied up an additional $500. Even DIY didn't work out: a reasonably sized 16-foot cube van substituted with something only slightly smaller than a tractor trailer. A tractor trailer that stalled every quarter mile. Oy.

So of course it was predestined that I should lose car keys (twice) and a cat (both eventually found) and get a flat tire while moving my mother yesterday. You see, as much as we'll do anything for our kids, kids will do anything for their parents too. And so it was with our motley group - my sixty-something mother, her seventy-something helper friend, my always cheerful husband, his goth-punk-with-a-heart-of-gold cousin and a now-sunburned-because-of-the-flat-tire me - more or less uncomplainingly relocated my mom from an old Victorian with no air con but lots of stairs, to a deluxe retirement condo with a koi pond and happy hour on the patio.

That I was tear-free and we were all sipping margheritas and snacking on nachos by 5:00 p.m. makes the day a tremendous success. That I was locked out of the house with Henry until 10:00 p.m. doesn't technically count against the move, so I hereby pronounce the Morell Moving Curse dead.

gifted

There is nothing I like more than a mid-morning coffee and a chat with a real-live person. It is rather exciting to have a visitor when you work by yourself all day. Especially a visitor who brings presents (and a giggling, charming little companion with the best dimples ever). And such lovely, thoughtful presents too. These tiny perfect gift tags by Sally Shim, whose work I just love. And personalized t-shirts for the kiddies too! So sweet Rita, thank you. Happy weekend folks. Oh, and if the five women who raised their hands for the soapsicle giveaway are out there, drop me a line with your address and I'll get your smudgey but still loveable treats on their way to you.

it can only mean one thing

Ignoring for a moment the baking of brownies in the middle of the afternoon, two posts in one day can only mean one thing: a deadline. Tearing apart the basement at midnight is another sign of the procrastinator. And I really must say, that despite what I've been lead to believe by professional organizers, I experienced none of the promised exultation after unloading six bags of clothes at GoodWill this morning. Quite the opposite, really. I am lamenting giving away that still very good Club Monaco pencil skirt and several pairs of very nice trousers (size 4). Ahem.

But back to the brownies. They are for my dear mother-in-law, whose birthday it is today. Now I've given this whole baking from scratch thing its due. My grandmother was a brilliant baker. One of those women who could effortlessly turn out flaky, melt in your mouth pastry without even the aid of a recipe. So good. I have inherited the desire to bake and make things by hand, but not so much the skill. But with the blessing of a chef friend, who, while consoling me after the second birthday cake flop, assured me that no one can tell the difference between a cake from scratch and one from a box (it's all in the icing, which must be homemade) I am a Duncan Hines evangelical. Never mind cute Betty Crocker - DH is my go-to brand. Except when it comes to brownies. And then you really must try PC's Organic Brownie mix. The ingredient list reads: organic cane sugar, organic flour, organic cocoa, baking powder and salt. I couldn't improve on that. I will caution you, if you're so inclined to whip up a batch, that it is a toothsome brownie. Very dense with a dark and chewy crumb. But so very good.

And so we are off now to granny's house. Warm and lovely brownies and a big pink present in hand. The deadline moves closer. But I do my best work under pressure.

ta da

Six hours earlier...



200 or so volunteers were split into groups and assigned tasks like this...

and this...


It was entirely random, I swear, that I was assigned to the group building these planter benches - a comparatively easy task. Luck of the draw people, luck of the draw.


The organization was impressive: a shady kids' area with crafts.

A very popular lemonade stand...


And good spirits all around. A great day. I brought Stella later in the day to show her what I helped build. She has a vague and peculiar idea of what it is I "do" generally, and I'm sure this only added to the confusion but I believe she was impressed:
"You built those benches mom? Really? You're a good builder."
Silence.
"And you're a good whack-a-mole player." High praise indeed.

oopsy daisy

A bad spill and a little scare yesterday when I lost my footing with baby H in my arms sending us both tumbling into the road, Henry hitting his head and me scuffing both knees. Scary. Thank goodness we're both fine and on the mend today. I'm still going to tomorrow's playground build, though I have had to request a desk job. I'm really excited about it. 200 volunteers + six hours labour = a brand-spanking new playground. Apparently Breakfast Television will be there at 7:50 am and Canada AM too. Pictures tomorrow!

bounty

Lunch...

...and supper.

Glorious weekend! Barefoot and fancy-free. Just the way I like it. The Perfect Summer Day (no humidity, blue skies) is so rare in this town that when it makes an appearance - on the weekend especially - you'd be foolish not to throw your arms open wide, cancel any plans that require being indoors for longer than 30 minutes, and just get outside and play. Which is what we did. Unfashionable tan lines be damned.

An early morning trip to the farmer's market for the last of the berries, the first of the corn and the freshest, skins-peeling-off potatoes I ever did see. I am happy to note our little market is vastly improved this year in terms there being more actual farmers and fewer resellers. There seems to be more of that around town too: Woodbine and Weston are both growers-only.

Meanwhile, our teeny-tiny vegetable patch is putting out tomatoes and basil faster than we can eat them. But I'll never complain: I'd happily eat fresh pesto and boconcini breakfast, lunch and dinner. Which I sort of did. Oh happy days.

I've said it before: I am no green thumb. But even a non-interventionist gardener like myself can't stop sweet potato vine and million bells from fulfilling their luscious destiny....



Giddy with summer love though I am, I am also a little bit dark on the inside. I enjoyed - three times this weekend - roasted corn on the cob with real butter and lots of salt, all the while trying to ignore the harbinger of fall that the first crop of corn is. I'm concerned but not yet preoccupied with summer's end. It's the arrival of the butternut squash that sends me into a tailspin.

unplugging

Aside from Flight of the Conchords (which is funny and odd at the same time - in that Napoleon Dynamite kind of way) I could live without a TV. I'd much rather rent Lost or the Sopranos and gorge on the entire season in one go. Unfortunately, I am alone in that opinion and my suggestion that we cancel the cable over the summer and save $80 a month was met with a snort followed by slack-jawed incredulity. That, by the way, was my husband's reaction. Stella's would be considerably louder.

Nonetheless, we are all unplugging around here for a few days. To swim. To cook. To enjoy summer while we've got it. Have a good weekend all.

if you want something done...

I will preface this post by saying I am not feeling terribly charitable toward Mayor Miller et al these days. Though I doubt many folks are. Listening to the radio this morning it was obvious that I was not the only one glad that the crew at city hall got some well-deserved come-uppance yesterday . Sure it's easy to be a bit of a sourpuss and frankly, schadenfreude does feel pretty good in this instance, but I really just wish our municipal pols displayed more of a can-do, we're-in-this-together attitude when it comes to figuring out this budget thing. They expect no less of us.

Maybe you're lucky enough to live within walking distance of a park that's sprinkled on summer evenings with laughing tots, frolicking dogs and chit-chatting neighbours. I, unfortunately, am not. While my Etobicoke neighbourhood has much to recommend it, the local parks are far from a selling feature. There are a few pieces of 70s-era slides and swings, but the paint is peeling, graffiti has started and the chronically overgrown grass is more weed than turf. It smacks of a community in decline. Though there are dozens of kids in the neighbourhood we are usually the only family at the park. Play matters. Unstructured time to run and jump and explore matters. So does a place to gather and meet your neighbours. We need a better park around here.

I called my councillor, Peter Milczyn, to inquire if or when some new playground equipment might make its way to our corner of the ward and was told there is no budget for such things. It's up to the community to fundraise the whole kit and kaboodle. We'd need about $100,000 for an average climbing structure and some swings. Nothing fancy. I was told it takes most groups 2-3 years to raise the money. Okey-dokey. We better get moving then. I'm hoping to link up with some other families on neighbouring streets before summer's end. I'll blog about our progress as soon as there is something to report. I've been inspired by this organization and by the efforts of another neighbourhood group who is rebuilding Bloordale Park . They've done such a good job organizing fun community events and posting about progress that I feel totally invested in seeing this park built even though we live on the other side of Bloor St. I'll be there on July 25th for the barn raising-style build day, when all the new equipment is installed by a huge team of volunteers. I've heard that they're about 30 people short, so if you've got a few hours to spare JULY 25 they sure could use the help.

sunday-ing

A birthday party on the farm. A tractor ride. A baby goat. Buckets of berries. A picnic. Happy day.

Lunch today was uninspired. To say the least. I don't dare check the sell by date on the bottom of this container. Meanwhile, the postman delivered a nice big box of felt food this morning. I'd have rather eaten this

Or nibbled one of these


Or maybe that


So cute. I'll be updating the menu soon with some exciting a la carte selections which means the prices overall are a bit lower and if, for some reason, you really just need a single banana or a slice of watermelon, you no longer have to buy the whole basket. Doing my part to keep rising food costs down. Happy weekend friends. We are off to a berry-picking birthday party picnic on Sunday. Buckets of fresh raspberries! I am happy.

giveaway

My recently received batch of Neopolitan soapsicles spent too much time in the post man's hot truck it seems and the chocolate smeared into the vanilla. They are still delicious but they don't look their best so if you'd like to try one - free - leave a comment here letting me know and I'll pop one in the mail for you.

crispy around the edges

Just finished lunch and a good old chinwag (as my mother would say) with my sister-in-law who told me she enjoyed my rant earlier this week. Rant. I was worried about hitting that publish button. Maybe there should be rules about posting after midnight. I am feeling a little tightly coiled, truth be told. It always happens when I have a writing deadline - two, actually, this week. And as always, not enough time in the day - or night - to get everything done that needs doing. But a good find always improves my mood, and a little procrastination doesn't hurt either. So off we went to Talize, the new secondhand chain that is promising to be everything Value Village is not. It definitely has a lower cootie quotient than GoodWill or VV but it's not the "whole new way to shop" promised on the website. That said, I found this beautiful cut paper silhouette for $1.99:



I can't get over the intricate cutwork. Every leaf! Shoelaces! The neckerchief! One slip of the scissors and disaster! So very cool. I'd like to know about Lotte Gutzlaff and this Huckleberry Finn-like boy. Maybe it is Huck Finn?

LIFE WITH THE CAPS LOCK ON

It's been a few weeks of being YELLED AT by my 4.5 year old. And I'M TIRED of being called MEAN. And of having my BEST FRIEND status angrily revoked because I won't allow a pre-dinner fudgsicle. Of being corrected: THAT IS NOT A MONSTER. IT IS A FEROCIOUS CREATURE. Sheesh. Is four the new fourteen? The only thing worse than the yelling is the whining. Interestingly, all this naughty behaviour seemed to start up around the time I began reading these parenting books, which makes me wonder if Stella's weird-o hostility is some kind of reaction to my new "communication techniques." According to this book parents shouldn't rush in with advice and a ton of questions when kids approach with a dilemma. Rather, a series of "hmm," "I see" and sympathetic head nods should result in kids talking through the problem and coming up with a solution independently. Well, I sure do love the theory. But faced with a ready-to-blow four-year old who won't put on shoes BECAUSE THEY HAVE BUMPS. And won't wear flip-flops BECAUSE THEY HURT. And won't, god help desperate, late, me, go barefoot because she wants THE BLUE SHOES. Which are at school. It really only made things worse. I dunno. I'm vexed.

While I'm not one to wallow, I really loved reading Crabmommy's blog tonight. The books are going back to the library and I'm reading nothing more instructive than the new issue of Domino.

capitalism 101

I love Loblaws' cloth shopping bags. Sure they could have been cuter. And maybe not so earnest. More like this one by Anya Hindmarch which is sold out everywhere except eBay where one can be had for about $400 (original price $10). Despite the style deficit of the Loblaws bag, it's only a buck and it's black so I don't mind if the coriander stems are muddy. Apparently it can be used 50 times and it holds twice as much as a regular plastic bag, and if you follow their calculation based on the average number of shopping visits it all adds up to a billion fewer plastic bags. Pretty encouraging. But my first reaction was less favourable: Why are we paying $1 for Loblaws-branded bags that surely cost no more than a quarter to produce? Shouldn't they subsidize the bags with the money they'll save from using fewer plastic bags? Or at the least, shouldn't they offer to do something charitable and green-related with the profits? I don't know. Maybe. Then Live Earth changed my mind.

Now I don't mean to be a wet blanket but I just didn't get it. I caught bits and pieces of the concert (Toni Collette? Singing?) over the weekend and found the whole spectacle rather embarassing. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wondered what was powering the pulsating wall of stage lights. Or what was being served at the concession stands and how about all that garbage? I was glad to discover they actually had a "green policy" governing these things, and some good steps were taken. But mostly I wondered what the whole thing was about. Raising awareness? Okey dokey. We're listening. What now? Please don't keep telling me to take the bus. Or to turn the water off in the shower while the conditioner is doing its thing. Because I'm not ashamed to say it: I won't. I need easier. Nudging the thermostat up a couple of degrees in summer, organic fertilizer and native plants in the garden, turning the lights off, cloth bags instead of plastic? Check, check, check and check.

I've come to terms with the $1 Loblaws bag. "Green" absolutely should be for-profit. It's the only way things will happen.

a day of rest

I don't know about you, but even weekends that look so promisingly empty on the calendar have a way of filling up. Friday morning chaperoning Stella's nursery school to Bowlerama. I should have brought nail polish and painted my toes: they surely would have dried in the time it took for the ball to roll down the lane and brush past the pins with all the force of a feather. Still, fun. And I never tire of observing the social lives of five year olds.



Dinner Friday night at Frank's, our favourite pizzeria in our old 'hood. We lived briefly - and unhappily - at Dufferin and St. Clair in a teeny-tiny ramshackle semi bought right after we were married. We never really felt at home in the neighbourhood or the house (hence the move to Etobicoke eight months later) but we still come back for two things: pizza with pesto, goat cheese and cremini mushrooms and the capucino at Tricolore, where the regulars look at you with suspicion for ordering a breakfast drink in the evening.



As it turns out, it was the annual street festa so perpetually crazy, chaotic St. Clair was blissfully turned over to pedestrians and we could enjoy our passegiata without the usual serenade of souped-up Honda Civics. I love how the neighbourhood is changing. It was good to see new rubbing elbows with the old timers.






Saturday, a barbeque with friends. A parade of princesses.





Sunday, a kid-free walk in the rain and visit to the outside art show at Nathan Phillip's square. Where I loved Franco DeFrancesca's work and these paintings in Farsi of verses by Rumi (You are in love with me. I shall make you perplexed.) that look like they're piped in icing:



Where I had my heart set on this lovely and amazing piece by Chris Langstroth (I am coming back for you!)


But in the end we decided on this cool bronze and steel panel by Beamsville artist Floyd Elzinger which is now hanging quite happily outside the living room as if it always lived there:

party under the big top

Remember this cutie pie invitation? It looks like Elisa's fifth party was a smashing success. Thank you for sharing your wonderful do Rita. I love seeing Honeybunch party loot in action! Visit Rita's Flickr page to see all the photos - I just adore the homespun carnival games. I bet the kids loved them too.

Birthday Invitation, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.

Waiting for yummy food, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.

Loot bags, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.

Elisa's Carnival Fun, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.

Prize Table, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.

Let the games begin, originally uploaded by Bubbi Bubbi.