July 20, 2008

50 Bonus Points

Scrabble in the park is the perfect activity for a sunny Saturday afternoon, but when sun suddenly turns into downpour, nothing could be more perfect than Scrabble indoors. In air conditioning, no less, at the wonderful home of the even more wonderful K, and this game was legend. I have never ever been more on fire, or, alternatively, I’ve never had such luck of letters, and my victory was certainly fixed when I used them all to spell out “neutrons”.

July 14, 2008

Bibliochaos

The scene at right indicates a house in chaos, indeed. The room where the books live is being painted (walls, trim and built-in shelving). It’s a big job, and so the books have sought safe harbour under the stairs (in alphabetized stacks, of course). So far I’ve not had to dig through in search of anything, though something will come up over the next few days, inevitably. The very best thing about the redec being that I’ll be able to post a picture of my library afterwards, which I haven’t done up until now because it was horrible.

This weekend was brilliant. We had four (4!) parties to attend, and were hosted marvelously, had such a wonderful time with friends. Today’s was even in suburbia, and we got to swim in a pool– such a treat. I’m now reading Marilynne Robinson’s new novel Home, about to curl up somewhere comfortable and read the very end. If this book is something you’ve been waiting for, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

July 6, 2008

My weekend

…has been full of marvelous things, including bbqs, long walks and long bike rides, lingering mornings, wine and scrabble, hot dogs, Sunnyside Park, a patio lunch with a pint. But it all can be summed up as follows:

• Friday: One roasted marshmallow ice-cream cone from Gregs around the corner.
• Saturday: One lavender-blueberry ice-cream cone from Kensington Market Organics on Queen West.
• Sunday: One raspberry gelato in a cup from Bravo Gelato on Roncesvalles.

June 24, 2008

Club Hand

I’ve been over-indulging in all my favourite pleasures of late (i.e. train travel, strawberries and sugar), but then I’ve got a birthday upcoming. So it was for this reason then that Stuart and I partook in Afternoon Tea at the Four Seasons this Sunday– which is my absolute favourite thing in the entire world. Accompanied by Bronwyn and her husband Alex, and it was perfect from start to finish, the weather complementing the sun-dresses we’d planned to wear all along. The tiny sandwiches delicious, tiny cakes delectable, the scones brilliantly fresh and sided with copious jam and cream, and yeah, the tea was good too. Overwhelming always to be in the midst of my favourite thing in the world, but I survived. It was absolutely wonderful.

Disturbing, however, was the revelation that my pinkie finger doesn’t work. As I don’t do most things properly (even those I love best), I’d never made a point of holding my teacup like the Queen does (or her friends), but I was devastated to realize that I physically can’t. My pinkie doesn’t go that way, and it doesn’t even when I’m not holding my cup, and then everybody started calling me “Club Hand”. They said I had fingers that were toes. Which is better than some people I know who’ve got toes that are actually fingers, but I’m not naming names…

June 24, 2008

Fun with Ichigo

For the second year in a row I’ve found my bookish pursuits in line with the season. It was almost a year ago that I first read Animal Vegetable Miracle, and I’m now reading The Perfection of the Morning, having finished the mesmerizing Prodigal Summer just before it. Both books inspiring a yearning to get closer to the earth, and so I did when any earth loving city dweller does for such a connection in the month of June–I ventured out past the suburbs.

Around our house June is one of the best times, full to bursting with fun and fetes, the sunshine and the solstice, and then the strawberries. I don’t have faith in a lot of things, but the very fact that delight manages to grow itself on trees (or at least bushes) suggests to me the world’s inherent goodness. The amazing abundance of summer time and sweet things, and all of this is well celebrated with a trip to the strawberry patch.

I went on Saturday with our friends Carolyn and Steve, and proceed to pick far too much out of fear of not enough. It was a gorgeous afternoon, well-spent toiling in the fields in suburban fashion. Ten litres I picked, an entire bucket and more, and I also acquired some new freckles and aches in my old lady knees.

Afterwards we came back to my house and the toiling continued (for a woman’s work is never done, moan moan, but of course, as usual, I did my suffering in silence). Carolyn and I made batches and batches of jam (albeit freezer jam, as our preserving ambitions still have some way to go). We used an obscene amount of sugar, and then ran out of sugar and had to go buy some more.

Soon the fridge was full of jammy delights the kitchen resembling a strawberry explosion. Dripping down the cupboard doors, staining counter tops, a couple of grubby finger prints up and down the telephone. Piles and piles of dirty dishes and utensils, and then, for fear of not having dirtied absolutely everything (and because it is one of my favourite things to do), I baked two strawberry pies. One for eating that evening (and it was delicious), the other put away in the freezer for a while. I intend to do as much with every fresh fruit appearing all summer long, and then come winter have a defrostable treasure trove of summer fruit goodness.

June 17, 2008

The whole thing

We went to Ottawa this weekend, which was brilliant all around (cousins, markets, barbeques), but I was particularly appreciative of a good ten hours spent train journeying, which of course makes for good reading. I did Fever and Prodigal Summer, and also CNQ. This is my second issue of the magazine– I raved about Issue 72 back in December. This issue lived right on up to my heightened expections: so much learning in one package seems a miracle. So much to challenge me, whether to understand, to be enlightened, or even to disagree. If you’ve got an interest in Canadian literary matters and you’re not reading CNQ, you’re missing out on something extraordinary. Serves as an example of what a magazine can truly be. It sounds like I’m overstating, but I’m really not. Robyn Sarah’s “Delivered to Chance” and David A. Kent on Margaret Avison were my favourite bits, but really (shhh…) I liked the whole thing.

June 9, 2008

Magic Tricks

Summer has begun to work its magic. For example, on Friday I inadvertently had ice cream three times. Friends materialized in the evening, and fun was had. Saturday was even more miraculous– tea and crumpets in the sunshine, with the paper. We had a picnic that afternoon, returning to our beloved Trinity Bellwoods park, and we welcomed an ant for the occasion, just so convention could be defied.

It was a splendid afternoon, the sunshine sure for the first time this year. Though of course we were sitting under a shady tree, feasting on good bread and cheese, and also blueberries (which were from far away, please don’t tell Barbara Kingsolver). Enjoying the absolute heaven that is that park, and the privilege of such peace in a bustling city.

We partook in a game of Scrabble (our magnetic pocket set), and competition was intense. I am pretty bad at Scrabble, so I was quite pleased to accomplish highlights Bandit and Oasis, with a triple world score for each of them. Friends came in the evening, mix of new and old, but both much adored. Delicious barbeque miracles, and the fridge stocked with beer, and fine conversation (which, it was pointed out, did tend to be a bit too 1998-centric so we tried to curb that, but failed). It was the first night this year we were not driven inside by cold, and so we could stay out late on the deck, watching tricks performed by bats.

May 25, 2008

Life in a Tree

It pleases me to no end that this is the view from my door. Made all the more significant by the fact that I live right in the middle of a very large and busy city, but out here on our deck, we could be anywhere. We bought a table and chairs yesterday, and this morning I was sitting out with a cup of tea and a paper, listening to birdsong and drinking up the sun. We’ve been barbequing regularly for the last month, but last evening was first when it was warm enough to be outside. The last two weekends have been full of friends, fun and potato salad, and luckily, it seems, time enough for everything.

May 5, 2008

It isn't Saturday

This weekend was one highlight after another. To meet my beloved Bronwyn, and realize we live in the same city again after more than five years– she and Alex came around Friday night and we went out for dinner and it was so nice to welcome them home. On Saturday we went to the ROM to see the dinosaurs, the early typewriter exhibit, and then the Darwin: The Evolution Revolution, which was absolutely extraordinary. So fascinating, inspiring, exciting, beautiful and educational– simultaneously. If you get the chance to go, you’d be crazy to miss it. Speaking of crazy, we spent last night watching EastEnders omnibuses my mum-in-law had sent to us– that Bianca! And also eating Dairy Milks she’d enclosed in the package. Also baked were tiny pies, whose We Help Mommy allusion was not considered until later. Today we went to the garden centre, and bought pots and pots of flowers and veg for our urban deck garden. And then Erin came for dinner, and we sat drinking wine as the sun went down. Commenting that the only problem with today was that it wasn’t Saturday.

April 27, 2008

Snail's pace

Today was a bit ridiculous, in that I woke up, went to brunch, and then came home and had a nap. And after that I prepared a tea-party. The whole weekend similarly low-key, mellow and pleasant with flowers in bloom and brunch on the patio. Last night was just as crazy, as I stayed home to watch Michael Clayton, and what a movie that was. That so much was going on but so little had to be explained was a wonderful for lesson for this apprentice writer.

This weekend my Emily Perkins kick continued, as I read her first novel Leave Before You Go and absolutely loved it. I’m now reading her second book The New Girl, and as I can’t find her 1997 short story collection Not Her Real Name anywhere around here, I’ve ordered it used off the tinternet, because now I’m quite sure that I can’t live without it. I also read Pulpy and Midge by Jessica Westhead, whose receptionist didn’t even have a name but whose disdain at having to cover the desk during cake-occasions was truer than life.