closing up for the evening

Hammocks and watermelon. Faded picnic blankets. Deep, damp grass and barefeet. A quiet gin and tonic on the porch. Fireflies. I *heart* summer.

Party orders shipping out today. I love the idea of all these colourful little gatherings. Please, send me your pictures!

Square dinner plates are sold out and I can't get my hands on any more. I should have more of the larger round plates + seagrass totes by the end of the week. No takers for the leis though. Surely I'm not the only one who loves them? And the finger rockets? People, these are seriously good fun. First of all, they fly like a hundred feet. Second, one, that's right one rocket, kept a gang of kids amused for over an hour. That's a lot of entertainment for $1.95.

yeah, it's a(nother) party

It seems when we moved into this house we not only inherited a share in a community snowblower but also the expectation that we would continue to host the Canada Day street party - a duty we've shirked for the last four years. This year we're on it. Invites went out today. Planning is in full swing.

On another note, the cute party picture contest is just about to close. There's a real horse race between two contestants - you decide who gets the $150 gift certificate so vote now!

honeybunch: rock the vote#links

Fine weather for sale-ing

Saturday was the annual street sale in Markland Woods, a pretty little warren of streets just west of us, and with dozens of families participating you could spend your entire morning browsing, if you were so inclined. We were all pretty excited to check things out but no one more than Stella who was armed with a fistful of loonies. Within minutes she was sporting a paper crown, a remnant of someone's party at Medieval Times. She usually passes over tatty stuffed animals but today was different. Loonies long gone on Tonka trucks, a puzzle and a hammering thing for Henry she pleaded and begged for a $5 loan to buy a talking pig she insisted was Wilbur from Charlotte's Web but was actually a cast-off Babe. It was about to turn ugly when I spotted this fellow in the free box. He raps. And hops.



Mollifed, we were allowed to continue. I picked up the pink petal ware jug for $2 and the great cake moulds for $1 a piece. Lemon bundt cake and a jell-o ring with shredded carrot and pineapple (my mother's recipe) for our July 1 party! I'm not a golfer but if I were, I'd really have to have this baby blue club bag. A successful day, but the real find turns out to be Hip Hop bunny: his twin brother was later spotted at the Cookstown Antique Market - for $15. Good taste might trump money, but a score beats all.

picture day

I'm a bit of a rudderless blogger it seems. I like to write. I like to take pictures. A blog seemed like good pairing of the two so I dipped a toe in the water last year. But I never set out with a purpose, other than free personal expression and a place to share hopefully interesting/cute/pretty photos. I'm a tad envious of blogs that are actually about something. Food. Design. Plot holes in Lost. I guess I just can't be that focused. Oh well.

Which brings us to this morning. Picture day at nursery school. Love this outfit, which arrived with much fanfare and billows of tissue paper from Italy - a gift from family friends we've never actually met but who send scrumptious outfits that always fit just so. In return we send cute jeans, BabyLegs and winter boots (hard to find in southern Italy). My father-in-law, who returns to his tiny town in Calabria, Fossato Serralta, each summer, is a friend of these generous folks, and is the official thank-you note translator, sizing expert and clothing mule in this international fashion swap. Fun. Happy Friday!

a dime a dozen

I have a thing for homespun parties. Kids and grown-ups happily mingling. Lots of sweet treats, good music and a few crowd-pleasing games make for an afternoon we all enjoy. Sure a home party is more work than, say, taking the troops to the movies or an indoor playground for a few hours but those parties, and I'm not judging here it's simply my preference, just don't satisfy the hostess in me. Or my need to coordinate.

So I'm pretty excited about the great new party stuff I added to the shop today. It's all classic dime store stuff: melamine dishes, crepe paper streamers, seagrass totes, and some very kitschy leis, so you can pull the entire thing together for less than $40 but doesn't it look like a million bucks?

all buttoned up

My plans to hit five or six yard sales Saturday were waylaid when I spent my weekly garage sale allowance of $40 bucks in the first 30 seconds on a lovely Drexel cocktail table from the 1960s and this big jar of buttons. Buttons you say? Yes, the humble button is an adored object among certain crafty, vintage-loving folk. One of the things I truly love about the Internet is finding and connecting with people who share sensibilities and interests some might find esoteric. Like swooning over a 2 kilogram jar of buttons. Look at all of this loveliness:

Vintage Buttons, originally uploaded by Picnic by Ellie.

vintage button wreath, originally uploaded by pixiegenne.

close up flower notes, originally uploaded by .tomate d'epingles..

Novelty food is another thing I can't pass up. Like this "Texas-sized" donut. It was the size of a bicycle tire. It drew a small crowd of neighbourhood kids. And it was gone in 60 seconds.

changing lanes

One of the first job interviews I had was with a book publisher. This was many years ago and I no longer recall the company or the position, other to say that I wasn't remotely qualified, but I do remember the meeting well. I wore a tan Ally McBeal-ish suit, tottering heels and some sort of leather briefcase that was quite likely empty but for my metropass, gum and a creatively padded resume. But despite the great outfit and my desperate enthusiasm, the meeting did not go well. The interviewer's puzzling line of questions became more and more abstract, and ended with the stumper: "You're driving on the 401. Which lane are you in - left, right or middle." Well and truly flummoxed, I eventually replied "I don't have a snowball's chance at this job, do I?" That was the only honest exchange during those 20 awkward minutes. Probably because I still don't know how to answer it, the question has stayed with me over the years.

I don't think I've ever been a left lane kind of person. I don't know if I'm ambitious or if I just have things , a wooly list of things, that I'd like to do. I'm not very good at separating work and family and personal dreams. Like the rest of the world I just want to be happy. So I let that guide my decisions. Not returning to my former job this year was pretty easy. I did go back to work full time at the end of my maternity leave with Stella and, though I was happy once I was actually at work, I spent a lot of time feeling rushed and overwhelmed getting there and back home again. I realized with two kids the pressure would be amplified and I just didn't think going through life like that would be good for me or anyone else.

There's an interesting article in this week's Maclean's that says disparity in the workplace is no longer a male/female issue, it's between those who have kids and those who don't. According to the author, Lianne George, kids are the new glass ceiling. I'm inclined to agree. Meetings booked at 4:30 p.m., a daycare that charges $5 a minute beyond the 6:00 pick-up time and always, always the feeling that I'm not doing home or work particularly well made it pretty clear that I should find a way to make a living on my own terms.

So life is a bit slower these days, a bit of a drive in the right lane. There's more time to appreciate the simple beauty in life and I'm grateful for that. I've always been a fan of the slow food, and slow travel movements, both of which are in keeping with my newly found slow life. Happy long weekend everyone.

She Pulls Her Man Around By Her Apron Strings

Aprons, originally uploaded by Red Colander.

St. Louis woman, with her diamond rings,
She pulls her man around, by her apron strings;
She wants for powder, and for store-bought hair,
The man she loves he wouldn't go nowhere

(St. Louis Blues, William Christopher Handy)

The part about store-bought hair gets me. Everywhere I look lately I see aprons. June's issue of Canadian House & Home. And this darling book, given to me for Mother's Day by my lovely sister-in-law.



I love the stories - especially Harold Sasaki's tale of his grandmother whose apron pockets always held tobacco and cigarette paper - and the photographs are wonderful but it's the patterns I'm positively giddy over. I've collected aprons here and there over the years; I like to give them as hostess gifts with a bottle of olive oil or a set of vintage serving spoons. I like wearing them too. But they've become such a hot collectible recently and good ones are hard to find anyway, so I'll try my hand at making one or two. It'll give me a reason to dip into my overgrown fabric stash, and I like the idea of connecting in some way with apron makers - and wearers - of the past.

rock the vote

Our four cutie pie contestants! Vote for your favourite photo - poll now open. Winner will be announced in the June newsletter.

Opinion Polls & Market Research

Daily Sweetness

Crochet Flower Garland Dress, originally uploaded by normavalentine.

Doll's clothing stitched from vintage fabric scraps. I have a wedding coming up in August and really must find someone to make an adult version of this dress. It's altogether perfect.

homecoming

After returning to the same island, the same street and, usually, the same beach house for a few years now, it feels a bit like coming home on both ends of our trip. It wasn't always so. Vacations used to be about exploring. Months spent researching dusty corners of the Internet looking for secret hideaways and unspoiled gems. But after driving from Munich to Umbria in a heatwave, with a nursing 4-month old and catastrophically wrong Mapquest directions to this place, we needed to find an easier way to vacation as a family.

Florida. Such a simple and obvious choice that I'm a little embarrased. I'm unapologetically anti-Disney World (non-stop manufactured kid-tertainment is not for me. That's a trip reserved for indulgent Aunties and Grandparents.) so the other Florida was something of a revelation. And now I'm positively evangelical about the sunshine state. Or rather parts of it. Here's why you should go:

There are lovely homes like this

And this


But most look something like this rather adorable cottage, where we stayed.


With embroidered curtains covering a sunny kitchen window

And a weathered door with seashell carvings


You can have pancakes here for $1.50 and watch dolphins in the bay.


And see a sunset wedding any night of the week.


And end every day pretty much the same way.


Oh, and the flip flops-only decree? Absolutely spot on.

packing and unpacking

Flip flops: check
Sunscreen: check
This book: check
Beach blanket: check
And this very cute beach tote made from a thrifted pillowcase to toss it all into.

That's me packed. More or less. I swear. You see, I'm trying something new this vacation. I've never really mastered the art of light packing, and traveling with kids has only encouraged my everything-but-the-kitchen-sink tendencies. But after a couple of seriously stressful airport runs juggling stroller, diaper bag, laptop, carry-on amusements and snacks plus two enormous, overweight pieces of luggage I'd rather take my chances this time. Besides, limiting my footwear to flip flops means nothing fancier than breakfast here and barefoot dinners here. And we're off!

the great escape

Things have been a little hectic around here lately. Just the stuff of life - parenting, house, jobs, families - nothing out of the ordinary but enough keeping us running from thing to thing all the while feeling the weight of stuff left undone. It's been a week of managing life, not living it. It'll be good to get away for a few days next week. Feeling disorganized and over-scheduled erodes the reverence I have for family time and so I need to unplug and unwind and just chill out a bit.

We're going back to our deserted beach. I snapped this photo on our vacaction there last November; walking back from the beach at sunset I turned for one last peek at the sky and saw this house for the first time, though surely we'd walked and biked past it a dozen times before. It lives in my computer, rather optimistically titled, myfuture.jpg. It seems I'm not the only one who's taken with this house, which, I've just learned, is called Mansour House. I can't believe we'd taken the exact same photograph. Kindred architectural spirits.

Happy Friday friends.

garage sale-ing

I couldn't resist this cookbook, spied in the fifty cent box yesterday morning. While those meatballs look more like hamburger patties to me, I am swooning over that cake. Note to self: bowtie for Henry's second birthday.

I also picked up this copy of Tom Sawyer. Turns out it's one of my fella's favourite books, which was a bit of serendipity. And I found this adorable little table hiding beneath a stack of something or other. Loving that colour. It's too pretty to paint over, so I think I'll add it to the shop as-is.

still feeling it

Our day looked like this. Only louder.

A cardboard box fort. Sidewalk portraits. A chalky bum. A walk home from the park with a friend. Barefoot lunch on the front lawn. And the start of yard sale season. Hello spring. Am I glad to see you.

feeling it

It's been a hectic week. A backlog of furniture orders awaiting my paint brush. A business trip means I'm flying solo at home. Stella's 2:30 a.m. onset of the 48-hour flu. Laundry, laundry, laundry. But a quiet coffee in the sunshine. No socks. Windows open all day. Spotting the first signs of life in the garden. A good long walk. I feel restored.

napoleon complex

I freely acknowledge that most days the kitchen is not my milieu. Oh I can rise to the occasion - a small dinner party, a backyard BBQ, even a big turkey dinner - just fine. But Monday to Friday meat and potatoes? Feh. I'm happier with scrambled eggs and a nicely toasted English muffin to be perfectly honest. Cooking for an unappreciative audience doesn't help. Vegetable intolerance, herb phobias and a general unwillingness to try anything new make the dinner hour my Waterloo. Not to be overly dramatic.

I find myself in a bit of a culinary funk. It's happened before. It usually means a few days of Kraft Dinner and boiled hot dogs. Maybe a frozen pizza. Eggos for breakfast. And far too much time spent daydreaming of toodling around Italy with Jamie Oliver, eating sun-warmed tomatoes and panzanella. I really need to find some fresh inspiration. And so with all the time I've saved by not cooking, I shall visit here and here and maybe stop by here so that when the farmer's market opens next month I will be not just inspired but also perfectly attired. Surely the stalemate will have ended by then.

There is one exception to my kitchen woes: the sandwich. Oh how I love them. And love to make them. Here is one of my all-time favourites. It's really good. Of course no one else will eat it. It contains arugula after all.

You will need:

baguette
half of an avocado, sliced
some sliced BBQ chicken breast. Leftover rotisserie chicken from the grocery store works like a charm.
arugula
fresh boconcini or buffalo mozzarella
tomato sliced thinly. Leave it out if you can't find a good vine-ripened one.
a dab of pesto
optional but totally worth it: sliced fresh fig
salt and pepper


Spread a bit of the pesto on both halves of the baguette then layer everything else on top. Pop it in the oven at 350 degrees for 10 minutes, just so the boconcini melts a bit and the bread gets a nice crust. Let it cool for a few minutes, but definitely eat while it's still warm. The sweetness of the fig is delicious with salty pesto and peppery arugula. Bon appetit.

Our First Contestants

I do love a good tin foil hat!





A non-traditionalist: the Birthday Banana


Serious cuteness!




Dimples and a cupcake smorgasbord? Lucky girl.



I love the crooked bowtie and the vintage-y feeling of this photo. Sweet!