Meow!

Meow!, originally uploaded by Sweet Freak.

We're invited to an all-ages Halloween party. And by all-ages I mean that technically it is a party for a soon-to-be one year old, who had the good fortune to be born last October 31st, but parents are invited and costumes are not optional.

Steve is in a tizzy. He's a bit of a spoilsport when it comes to dressing-up. He's been sporting the MadMen uniform (dark suit, pocket square, cufflinks) since I met him 10 years ago and I think he finds costume wearing deeply undignified. I can't imagine why.

But I think I've found a perfect solution.

spoiled for choice

As much as I love summer, fall is real good too.

Thank you, Lisa, for that super-fab comment last week. As the owner of a comment-challenged blog, I really do enjoy hearing from you. As for the house renovation, it's chugging along rather more slowly than I'd expected. We are still in the planning stages with an architect and a contractor who, no surprise, do not see eye-to-eye. We opted to not build a second story on our bungalow (money, time, hassle) so we are taking our inspiration from petite but efficiently-designed spaces - like Scandinavian apartments, NY hotels, even ship cabins - and making our every square inch useful and functional. If I get my act together I will scan and post some magazine images that I find inspiring.

What I have learned so far is that there is no telling an Ikea Abstrakt kitchen cabinet from an Italian high gloss that costs four times more. Also, there really is no such thing as "just taking out a wall." And granite counters are the sisal carpets of the kitchen; I'm going with Carrara marble - provided our house does not have asbestos. Yes. Asbestos. We learned years ago that the attic is probably insulated with something called Zonolite - a common DIY insulation back in the 1970s. In fact, our neighbour told us that one of the owners of our house worked for a company that sold Zonolite - a situation that would seem to render the $375 environmental analysis we have to do pointless. But we need to be sure before construction begins. Removal costs $1,000 a square foot. An obscene amount of money, money that I would much rather spend on a Carrara marble kitchen counter and a sink like this one. Fingers crossed good people.

Steve is away for a few days which means a) we had pancakes for dinner tonight, b) the kids were in bed at 8:00, and c) I am counting down to 10:00, a plate of cheese and grapes at my side (because carbs just go right through me). Flipping Out, my favourite show, is on and I can finally see just went down with Jenny and Chris without Steve rolling his eyes and muttering disapprovingly. Life is good.

My kids are used to me photographing their food, their feet and occasionally their faces, but taking pictures - with flash - while they're sleeping is new. When you live in a bungalow privacy and the separation of living and sleeping areas is something of an illusion. A game, really, but a game that we all play. At night we, the grown-ups, tuck the kids into bed and say good-night, and then we walk seven feet down the hallway to the living room/kitchen where we talk, make popcorn and watch television as if the kids couldn't hear a thing. This, even though I could hear them breathing if the TV weren't so damn loud. To their credit the kids stay in bed. And our part of the deal is that we ignore the scurrying, the giggling and the occasional thud that emanates from down the hall. Until they're asleep and then we investigate. Tonight I found Stella had created nice little sleeping dens for her favourite animals. I like that they're sleeping cozily in pairs. Along with her bed sheet and some clothes, that's her turquoise swimsuit bottom in the foreground. Kids are funny.

sunday-ing

The beginnings of squash and whiskey soup. For a picture of the final (delicious) product, see my guest post over at Broccoli & Prosecco.

A beautiful fall day calls for a drive through Forks of the Credit, a picnic lunch in Belfountain, and a stop at a farmer's stand for Honeycrisp apples, carrots and a home-baked pie. Fall is good.

Swap Meet

If you haven't yet picked up the October Martha Stewart, what are you waiting for? It's a terrific Halloween issue with a bounty of crafty ideas. Which got me thinking (and making broomstick party favours last night) about a Halloween swap.

Here's how it'll work:
1. Make one sample of your favourite Halloween craft. It could be a party favour, a decoration, an invitation, an edible. It should lend itself to being made in 15 to 30 minutes.
2. It does not have to be an original creation, though those are always extra-welcome.
3. On swap night, October 17th, bring enough supplies to make 5 to 8 more.

The idea is that everyone in the group will have a chance to make, and leave with, a handful of finished projects and a bunch of new crafts in their repertoire. All levels of crafters are welcome!

The swap meet will be Friday, October 17th 6:30 pm at Honeybunch, 3885 Bloor St. West in Etobicoke. You'll also need to email me by the 11th simple step-by-step instructions and finished photos of your craft, along with a materials list. I will collect and circulate among the group after the swap.

Contact me nicole(at)honey-bunch.com if you're interested in joining.

all in the family

The trees - I think they're lindens - that line our street shed branches like other trees drop leaves. Our walk and road is perpetually littered with twiglets. But where I see yard work Stella sees opportunity: she's been selling *chopsticks* made from their fallen branches. This morning they were "going for low" because of an over-inventory problem. A nickel bought me two (more) sets. God help me if she actually expects me to use them, because they are not really very chopstick-like at all. They are rough branches taped together with a bit of blue tape pilfered from my painting supplies. But the kid sells the sizzle not the steak. So I buy. Everyone does. She's made three bucks this week.

So a big YAY to Stephen Harper for his election announcement yesterday that he intends to extend maternity benefits to the self-employed. He's got my vote. Stella's too.

Sunday: Queen West Art Crawl

The Queen West Art Crawl was this weekend and I've been looking forward to it all summer. It's my favourite festival because it's a mix of art + craft, it's totally low-key and we've always found something interesting and affordable and what could be better than that? Our five-year old couch may be from Sears but damn if we don't have some fine art on our walls. This year two things conspired against me and QWAC: torrential rain yesterday and today a busted washing machine. I'm used to things breaking down around here and normally I make a mental note to add it to the list for the handyman I'm planning to hire some day. But a washing machine just won't wait. Not with a sodden load of training pants inside. No sir.

We headed to Sears where we bought a replacement washer (a big old top-loading model with dials - a rebuke of the new-fangled electronic model that has let us down three times in the six years we've owned it). I really hate being a responsible adult sometimes. Penniless but back in the laundry game, we headed to the show. Between the no-money thing and the roaring coming from the stroller once Henry spotted a playground it was a quick visit, but a fruitful one. We bought a cool cowpoke painted on reclaimed wood for Henry's new room. Cute art for boys is hard to come by. I was really taken with this booth - love the monkeys in cow-hide chaps - and ended up buying several pieces for the shop. Henry's room is taking shape and I'll have pictures to share soon.

Post-script: While clearing a path in the laundry room in advance of the new machine's arrival tomorrow, the dead washer unexpectedly sprung to life. It's worked like a charm all night. No kidding.

double spinach + pepper jack wrap

A spinach tortilla + baby spinach leaves with pepper Jack and sliced apples. Quite possibly the perfect lunch: tasty, hearty and mostly healthful (looking at the picture I see there is probably more cheese than apple.) I'd like to try this with a more adventurous cheese, but the mass-produced processed variety is hard to resist when it's $5 off for a two-pack at Loblaws.

Over dinner tonight at Margherita's Mexican the subject of taking pictures of food some how came up - I'm not talking Donna Hay-ish styled photography, just ordinary meals. Turns out my friend and her friend have started a blog, Broccoli & Prosecco, (she's Prosecco) which documents their lunches and everyday meals. Fun. I've asked if I can guest post. The wider world needs to see my tomatoes.

an apology is in order

So there I am, just minding my own business and not thinking mean thoughts, honest, as I use my fingernail to scrape a squished grape off the carpet (though who could blame me if I were to feel a tad hostile, this being hour three of house cleaning and I've barely made a dent) when I see, as if for the first time, this black shoebox that has been allowed to sit on top of the TV cabinet for a week. Probably two. I'm not being critical, but seriously, Stella is a pack rat. I don't know where she gets it.

To her an empty shoebox is an invitation to start a new collection or, as in this case, bring together miscellaneous objects from other collections into a new grouping, whose significance and connection is known only to the curator. I love her collections, as baffling as they are. I don't ask her to explain them or defend them or justify them. I don't even ask her to keep them all nice and tidy in her room (though that one is obviously just bad parenting). And as I said I really was not in a bad mood when I threw out the box. Not the contents, mind, just the box.

Steve has warned me for years about my midnight runs to GoodWill. There may be folks who ask their kids for input on which toys should go - I am not one. If I think it won't be missed, it goes. If there are so many pieces missing that I would have to call the manufacturer for replacement parts before anyone could play with it again, it goes. So the shoebox went. I never, never, would have done it had I thought Stella would miss it, but miss it she did. A painful morning for us both. And a lesson learned by me.

The unremarkable and the supremely important co-existing in a shoebox. That's what life is like, don't you think? Not to get all philosophical on you or anything.

happi

No sign of autumn. Squeezing every drop of summer. Barbeque for dinner. Again. A big boy bedroom. Moving furniture. A sore back. Taking stock of closets, clothes and school uniforms. A house in pre-renovation mode. Clutter! Take a breath. A fresh day. Coffee in the sunshine. Much better. A trip to the flea market. A happi find. Earlier to bed. First day of Senior Kindergarten. A new year...

summer love

Finishing off summer the right way: water balloons and a run through the sprinkler. Though Henry preferred a quiet read in the shade. Elmo. Compelling.



Despite the best stretch of weather we've had all year, Labour Day signals that it's time to put away summer, if not literally then at least symbolically. And so hair was thoroughly shampooed for the first time since June. Bedtime was brought forward an hour. Back-to-school clothes laid out. Senior Kindergarten awaits.