In the Band

There was supposedly only a small band of snow that sweep part of Edmonton.  We were part of the band.  Really, did we have plus 21 degrees just on Friday?  How can there be snow on the ground?!

The preceding big wind storm knocked over a tree in the neighbourhood.  I gawked at it on my way to work.  It seemed incredibly lucky the tree fell away from the house instead towards - ugh, just think of the damage.  Must keep my eyes up for falling branches.  Or should the strategy be, wear a helmet and walk fast? 

Coconut, despondent again tended to the only green around. 




















And then today, it's all sunny and melted. 

Euphonium and Tuba

Until the day, there was still a chance for a surprise - as in, would it be "Euphonium and Tuba", "Piano and Tuba", or "Organ and Tuba"? 

The reason for this uncertainty: Rob had been sick for the past few weeks and his ability to perform on Sunday wasn't guaranteed.  Paul was stressed.  Not only was he practicing and working on the promotional visuals (yep - he's using the stuff he learned in the visual design class), plus regular job stuff, he was also looking for someone who would be willing to step in last minute.  Two people ended up agreeing to help.  But Rob pulled through!

Come Sunday, at All Saints' Anglican Cathedral, they played. 

Thirty people came, including Kevin, Celina, Angie (who I haven't seen since our clean out day), Grant, Ross, Alan, Jane, Scott and Kathy.  Not a bad turnout, as Paul would say, but definitely a labour of love - so much work involved! 

I finally saw Sarah Ho (Paul's accompanist) and realised I had someone completely different in mind attached to the name. 

After the last song, both Paul and Rob came out for a bow and I was half hoping they would do an encore (in particular Rob's arrangement of Delibes' "The Flower Duet").  But they didn't.  Just as well, as Jane said, "They played their all... they'd have to come out and sing!"  Now that ("The Flower Duet" again?) would certainly have been something else! 

(Right: Celina and I both wondered, coincidence or did Rob and Leslie coordinate outfits?)

Kijiji Kindness

I've been keeping eye out again on Kijiji for free furniture.  On Saturday, I hit the jackpot.  Someone was moving and listed two lovely green wingback chairs with the note that more things will end up on their lawn as they sift through their stuff. 

I wrote down the address, started driving, and stopped... right across the street from Theresa's.  Um... that's kind of awkward.  I know my family's take on second hand items and I was in full view.   (Please don't rat me out to my parents.)

Anyway, I spoke to Vicky who had placed the advert and found the chairs had gone.  But after introducing me to her husband, Terry, I was fully welcomed to take things on the lawn and free to walk around the house and ask if I saw something I needed.  Wow.  I certainly didn't expect that. 

As I loaded small bookshelves into the car and rummaged through their kitchen cupboards, I found out more about their situation: The house had sold, possession day was a few days away, they didn't have a new place to move into (it seemed they were headed to opposite sides of the country, her east, him west), and they had a lot of stuff. 

Their adult children, Carson and Mac, were taking some of the items (along with the very sweet kitty who wanted a lot of attention), but otherwise things just needed to go. 

There were too many feelings there.  They were uncovering more and more things that we could use at our place, but didn't want to rush anyone (I worried I was morphing into a vulture).  I was also overwhelmed by their kindness, generosity, and how there were truly no strings attached to the things they were giving me.*  Except, I still felt like I should be helping out, so I stuck around for a couple hours on Saturday and Sunday.  I tried to make myself useful by helping them move things from the house into the van set for either storage, the Ecostation, or Goodwill. 

During all this, I was busted.  Someone had recognised the car and Theresa, Celina, and Kevin waited for me near it.  They were surprised, but also didn't seem that bothered by my "collecting".  Instead, Theresa said she wished we'd bought the place.  The priced had dropped from $ 380 K finally to $ 320 K (in our range).  I reminded her it was a duplex (and, what I didn't say, I like our current place a lot more).

Anyway, I was still pretty amazed to get such a glimpse into these people's lives.  Near the end of it, I was sniffling from the cat dander, Terry was showing me photos from his first marriage (which he was supposed to packing) and just being sweet.  And the son and daughter, were so blase about me they just went about their business joking in front of me about the very attractive tenant who was also moving out: "Who should ask her out?"

And that was that. 

Back at home with my two carloads of stuff my goal then was to clean and "process" everything so it didn't look like completely chaos.  I think Paul was a bit stressed about it.  But now we have some really nice furniture. 

I know these kijiji experiences are rare, but it's exciting to think it could happen again ;)  Who knows what you could get from answering an advert (please no bed bugs, and don't tell my parents).

Some fun adverts I've saved up:

 

 

* The possession part a bit easier to handle - if we need to get rid of it at some point, I wouldn't feel the same amount of (any?) guilt.

Also From the Wall

His ghost-white hound.

Georgie and the Quins

Paul: Tegan.

Me: And Sara.
Paul: Teegaan.
Me: And Sara.
Paul: Teeeeeegaaaan. 
Me: What's going on? 

Paul had been flipping through the velvet and gloss pages of Georgie Issue 11, when Tegan caught his eye.  Not so much Sara.  It was all Tegan.

The next few days I could hear him drawing it out, face still slightly scrunched in disbelief, or was it confusion?

Me: What's the big deal?  It's a name.
Paul: It's so unusual.  "Keegan" is Celtic, but what is "Tegan"?

He found it was Welsh.  That it meant "darling", "loved one", "favourite", or "pet".  Which sounded nice and reasonable me.  He was still skeptical. 

On the phone to Jackie: "What would you say if Lana and I wanted to name our first child "Tegan"?"*

I'm glad she didn't jump to conclusions.
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* She thought it would be strange and maybe that we'd been trying to hard to be different.

Stitching

Went over to Mom and Dad's for dinner last night.  My main goal was to help Mom get used to her new sewing machine.

I'm trying to be more attentive and I do feel like I'm learning more - about machines in general and about various stitches.  She tests out what I've gone through by working on her latest project -- a number of pyjama pants for Kevin. 

She whizzes through them in no time, only slowing for the finishing seams.  She explained to me the difference that were needed between these in men's and women's trousers.

"Hm... that's favouritism!"  I exclaimed, once I realised how much more work / more complicated the men's one was.  She said that's just the way it is and it's not favouritism.  I don't know if she caught my joking tone since she seemed embarrassed.  Of course I knew the truth: The complexity was for a smoother finish so "sensitive parts" don't chafe.

Even though it was a good visit, I still ended up feeling guilty.  But guilt, in a different way.  One that made me sad more than angry.

Mom had wondered aloud (again) if I'm overly independent (her fault for sending me to daycare instead of staying at home...) wanting to do things by myself and not willing to accept help.  I realised she had hit on something: You could get me to make time to come help (e.g. read the manual for her and teach her how to use the new sewing machine), but I wouldn't as likely come if you were offering to help me (e.g. we'll feed you!). 

It boils down to me being too proud and inadvertently mean. 

Her offers of help were, yes, trying to be helpful on her part, but more so because she just wanted to see me.  I'd been insensitive -- forcing her to reveal her weaknesses and ask for help. 

I guess I should have seen it, but I didn't: Mom was lonely.  Dad likes to do things on his own (he wakes up early and heads out on errands, walks fast, doesn't like to wait for her...).  Mom's friend is busy with her grandchildren, so wasn't free to go out for walks any more.  Not that she said it, but it sounded like she was starved for contact.  And even daily phone calls to / from her kids weren't necessarily enough. 

Maybe getting together to work on sewing projects together is a way to make things better. 

More so though, I have get this through my head: For me to accept (ask for) help isn't necessarily a weakness (but it still feels a bit like it).  (Is this just from my parents?*)  That the give and take of these favours doesn't add up to debt on both sides, but instead is building something positive and shows caring.  This all sounds great.  So, why is this so hard? 
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* Maybe not.  I remember once Chris told me he wished I would just tell him a cinnamon bun would make my day.  Then he could get me one and be so happy that he'd been able to do something nice for me.  Wow, that was a long time ago.

Beautiful Garbage and Travel Brochure Art

He told us he saw them as "modern ruins" and that something good will rise out from them. 

David Janzen was describing his series of paintings / studies of landfills across Alberta.  The exhibit, Transfer Station, simply made garbage look beautiful.  It helped, he'd answered, that these landfills were in such beautiful locales -- nested in the middle of mountains, in one direction there would be forests and then in another, piles of sorted detritus. 

It was very fitting for the Waste Management Volunteer Appreciation event to be held at the AGA to see these works.  Janzen seemed to have an appreciation and optimism about all this waste: Ashes will begat something new or that it will be reclaimed by nature one day. 

The paintings were very detailed.  I wanted to stare at them at close range, but I was also disgustd / repulsed.  There was simply so much waste!  And I couldn't quite hold in my mind that it could be so beautiful too. 

David Janzen "Lumber Pile, 2011"

When asked about the group of oval paintings (which were combinations of real and imagined places), he noted deliberately choosing the shape because it reminded him of portraits.  Now, our garbage as a portrait of ourselves - that I can find meaning with. 

After the artist talk, Catherine and I took advantage of the free admission to explore the other exhibits.

Dutch Landscapes from Rembrandt to Van Gogh had me excited.  Van Gogh!  However, his piece "The Swamp" wasn't quite what I thought it would be / had the effect I expected -- even after I lifted the curtain. 

 

Instead, I was drawn to (more stereotypical and twee?) "On the Ice" etching with engraving by Jan van de Velde (the Younger).

 

We joined a tour group when we entered A Story of Canadian Art: As told by the Hart House Art Collection.  The guide pointed out key works and explained how the collection was amassed and how it was organised in the space.  Between simply looking and enjoying the pieces and I was hit by how much thought and calculation there was in curating such a collection. 

The goal had been to create a great / definitive collection of Canadian art, so the Group of Seven of course had to be featured.  But, the guide pointed out, those who were considered the Group of Seven had a different idea of who belonged in the group.  Some were really inclusive. 

We spent a good chunk of time here.  I was amused to learn that the well known Isles of Spruce by Arthur Lismer (below right) had been painted in the studio from the small (less than 8x10) study (below left) done on site in the wild.  Just think what they could have done with cameras!  But then again, how many of us would go to the trouble of painting at all when we photos saved up? 

The guide also pointed out it was these painting that gave people an idea of what Canada was like and served as tourism adverts.  Just how many people would come to Alberta because of Charles Comfort's  "Prairie Road" (below)?  Just look at our gorgeous skies.  The famous light here is certainly captures.  (A big leap from our current Travel Alberta adverts.) 

 

Somehow the same colours produce a surreal effect in Tom Tomson's "The Pointers" (right, a section close up).  But I like it just the same. 

Big in Russia

I'm getting a lot view hits from Russia. 

Thoughts:
1. Wow.
2. Someone's actually interested in the back catalogue!
3. Maybe it's a friend.  Do I know someone currently in Russia?
4. Dang, I don't know where my friends are. 
5. Um... is someone researching to steal my identity?

The Great British Sewing Bee

Sunday was my lowest number of daily steps since tracking again: 2,783.  I woke up with knee pain, had to admit I must have over did it Friday and Saturday, and consciously told myself I needed to take it easy... but the number was still sad to see. 

Maybe it was an attempt to cheer me up: Paul agreed to watch in our "chill time" this show I'd read about on Gertie's New Blog for Better Sewing, The Great British Sewing Bee.

Minutes into the show, we noticed how everyone was just so nice.  Nothing cutthroat like Project Runway, and the challenges really highlighted good craftmanship as the main criterion.



Paul seemed interested and attentive to the informative parts of the show, picking up on the lingo and learning about good fit, sewing, and patterns... and I realised my error, "Um, maybe you shouldn't be watching this... you'll know what to look for and see exactly the kinds of mistakes I make..." (I should have added, "When I manage to come up with a working garment".) 

But, a couple of days later, we had some more chill time (me, quite likely coming down with a cold), Paul was interested, and I was not going to put a fight - the next episode!  The main challenge was to create a pair of men's trousers.  Oooooo!  I've "edited" a pair of women's trousers before and even that wasn't easy.  Since it was an edit, I didn't even have to fix or deal with making a fly, which I didn't realise was so complex. 



Paul caught a mistake in the informative section (C19 was said instead of C18), and we joked about the host.  Just how did Claudia Winkleman, who seemed to know nothing about a project or technique, become such an expert all of the sudden?  Oh, and her humour is kind of strange... I guess this further speaks to the contestants' talents - under such pressure, I have been known to yell and snap at much less.* 

After the show I looked to House Hippo and Coconut.  After watching this, did they want clothes?  And then we were laughing like crazy.  Could you imagine Coconut in trousers?! 

Paul: He would look like he was sitting in a boat! 
Me: I was imagining a pair for his half, to cover his butt. 

Whatever the final product - no zippers and no flies! 

I've never been a big fan of watching organised sports on television, but I think The Great British Sewing Bee (and Project Runway) might just be that for me.  My fingers itched and brain felt brighter for watching it - as if the parts of my body related to sewing have been activated (like in visualisation training?).  I can't wait to see if my team (favourite sewer / designer) would win.  Fingers crossed that inspiration from the show will manifest into completed projects ;) 

Anyway, look forward to catching the last two parts.  Your bets on who will win? 

* One (other) criticism: The "gorgeous" home project segment is so brief that anyone who likely understood it, already had the skills to come up with it.  Those who didn't, wouldn't have enough detail to actually build it.  Perhaps a pattern on the BBC website could help address that.

Toddler in the House

"Are you going to give Auntie Lana a hug?  Are you going to give Auntie Lana a kiss... and your cold?" 

I waved my fist at Bob... but... who could resist melting a little when she grabbed my skirt and planted kiss there? 

Andrea, Bob, and Rebecca came for dinner.  Unfortunately , Paul had a rehearsal.  Andrea arrived early and was able to have a short chat before he left, but otherwise I was entertaining on my own.  It wasn't exactly difficult, but I soon realised that our house is not toddler-proof. 

A quick sweep for sharp things, just in case, when she arrived (though Andrea and Bob didn't think it was likely she'd hurt herself) made me think we're safe.  But not long after seeming happy enough with the food served to her in a little bowl with her own fork, Rebecca was soon up and about visiting all things within reach and planting kisses. 

A kissed apple -- sure she can have that.  A kissed almond - no problem!  She can eat them right?  Kissing multiple almonds and putting them back?  Well, I think I'll just take those out and put the rest away...

With one eye each on Rebecca, Andrea and Bob managed a quick tour of the main floor (commenting how much it was like her Oma and Opa's) and a conversation. 

I heard about the renovations that have started on their place (rendering it like a bit like a campsite) and found out Bob was now a stay-at-home dad.  He takes Rebecca to music lessons and can even sing a few of the songs ("Where is Thumb-kin, where is Thumb-kin?...") with a twist ("Where is Birdman?  Where is Birdman?").  I would not expect anything less. 

And then she was off again!  I just can't believe how much energy she had! And not camera shy at all. She might have hid in the curtains for a little bit, but was fine when I pulled them away to take a "snap-snap".

Their total visit wasn't long (someone needed to go to bed), but it was pretty plain to see Rebecca had grown a lot since our last meeting and wasn't a baby any more. 

Note to self for future kiddling visits: Remember to toddler-proof!  

SEEKING Humanity

*"Blue-Ribbon Emotions" as identified by Dr. Panksepp are in ALL CAPS, additional information can be found here. 

I've been reading Temple Grandin's Animals Make Us Human and Brian Christian's The Most Human Human and wondering if just maybe they can help me get out of my rut of being... down.

Grandin's book talks about how small changes in the lives of the animals we care for can have dramatic results for their well being.  Personal stories in the book draw on her autistic experiences, and how the FEAR and PANIC she felt helped her find solutions for animals feeling the same. 

The big "Oh" inducing chapter for me wasn't about FEAR or PANIC, it was about zoo animals.  In particular it was a story was about a large cat in captivity.  Its carers had set up things for it to do, but it was still displaying bad / unhealthy behaviours.  Grandin summed up the situation: It was like giving a person piles and piles of laundry and expecting them to be happy washing it -- certainly it would keep the person busy, but in no way did it turn on the emotion of SEEKING. 

Oh.  In my head we're back to the argument between me and Mom how it wasn't supposedly possible for me to be bored because there was so much work that needed to be done. (Though now I wonder if there's a some nuance lost in translating the word 悶).

And then, Christian's book smacks me up the head, noting how as we attempt to make computers more and more intelligent and human-like, people are called upon to be more and more computer-like in order to be successful in their jobs.  And I could see professionalism as an accountant was synonymous with being unemotional, consistent, high producing, impartial... So, maybe the other problem is that I have been trying to turn myself into a robot. 

The solutions for both are there right among the pages.  From Grandin to turn on SEEKING, from Christian to be more human. 

The first is not all that different from what Paul's been encouraging me to do: Try to find some joy in something every day. 

The second, I never thought I'd ever have to practice at or take lessons in.  He suggests some things such as working on conversation, having human contact and interactions, being mindful of what a computer would be challenged by or could do and how to be different.

But I know all this will be good for me.  Being down all the time isn't a long term, healthy solution.  But it also seems so hard. 
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Addendum: There's is so much to these books that I recommend them. 

Flips and Tumbling

More practice for the Cirque?

Now Coconut's turn. 

Regardless, it makes me smile.

Greenish Things

For a laugh and a smile. 

 

Finds from my latest Reuse volunteer shift:

 

- An annoyed bunny

- A hesitant belle

- An unfortunate title 

 

An update on things growing indoors:

 

- A sprout from the carefully planted

- From the mass of spilled seeds, true folliage (beyond the cotyledon which all kind of looked the same)

 

 

 

 

Calculated Kindness

Are people are nicer to me because they think I can help them?

It's been a tough afternoon at work.  I'm not sure of the situation completely, but I did hear a co-worker explode and storm off.  The co-worker who was yelled at shared this observation with me afterwards: "They never seem to yell at you.  Maybe because they know you can help them in the future."

There's sadness there (being badly judged and taking it personally).  And I guess it was kind of a compliment for me... but it also made me sad. 

I don't want to think that this is the truth.  Treating people kindly and respectfully shouldn't be a weighing of what they could or couldn't do for you.  But then, I remember this column from cracked.com from Erik's New Year's Resolution blog entry.  When I first read it, it had sounded harsh, but I'd also agreed with some things (namely, I needed to get off my butt, create, and be useful).  It read as a kind of tough love. 

So, I can see how being useful / helpful is something important... But treating people less than civil because they don't seem to be able do things for you --- is just so wrong.  (Better explained as Kant's "End in itself...")

Now... I'm worried.  I can understand being laid-off / "made redundant" if I stop being able to do my job or it's no longer needed.  I'd be upset, but not as upset if people started treating me badly because of it. 

I've been suspicious of kindness before (mostly from strangers), but this situation is making me question my faith in humanity.  It also reminds me that I need to vigilant and not be like that.

Choosing Space, Choosing Hope

People come by with some grand plans.  I'm not sure I like how they're scoping out cubicle - deciding where things should go.  But it's just part of things.  In the great office shuffle, our team is going upstairs and another team is moving into our space.  So, all this is reasonable, but it doesn't mean it isn't awkward.  Not only is everyone staring at my messiness, they're also talking as thought I wasn't there.

On the other side of things, there's the space we're going to: All offices and no cubicles.  Sounds pretty nice. But there a snag: There aren't enough window offices for everyone to have one. 

So... I have one.  I was given first choice because of my seniority, but it still put me in a bit of a difficult position.  I felt almost selfish for saying yes, I wanted the window.  Now that I've made the choice, I hope it doesn't make others upset and change our current friendly work dynamic.

Even though we're all thinking this will be overall a nice change, I'm also surprised it's happening: There's budget to do this now?   

Meanwhile, in the real world, the Boston Marathon bombings.  I am shocked and sad.  The only glimmer of hope in all this are the people stepping up to help.  That's incredible. 

Mock Mousaka Pie

After reading about "Chicken Shepherd's Pie" (are there shepherd's who also herd chickens?), and thinking on pie in general: I wondered if the name could be applied to my latest experiment.

It started with eggplant on sale.  Then, once home, I realised:

1. Mom's way of preparing it, without meat, was a side dish rather than a main, and
2. I didn't have the time, energy, and (likely) ingredients to figure out and make a complementary main

I went online, found "Quick Moussaka" (a Martha Stewart recipe), and promptly set off the smoke alarm.  (Oh, eggplant why do you smoke instead of roast?!)  I didn't have the right cheeses and probably wouldn't have been too happy with the calories... so a creamy layer of mash potatoes as a reasonable substitute? 

And so, Mock Mousaka Pie was born!*

Paul seemed to like it, in spite of slightly burnt eggplant and less than creamy potatoes (right, I'm supposed to add fat...)  So, I'll count it as a relative success.  Next time... I'll concede to maybe add a bit of fat... Oh, and try not to set off the alarm. 

* Though now that I've done more checking on wikipedia, maybe the proper name should be "Cottage Pie with Eggplant and Tomatoes (with Greek spices)"... it's not quite as catchy.

Sushi Sweet

"I wonder what Celina is up to for her birthday..."
"Whatever.  As long as there's cake." 

Though not part of these mysterious plans for the actual day, Paul and I were invited to the "family" celebration dinner the day before.  Celina's Sweet Sixteen (for the family at least) was to include a lot of delicious sushi. 

There were a couple of location changes until Sakana in Old Strathcona was confirmed. 

Though on Whyte Ave (as The King & I), I managed to get lost and was the last to arrive.  By then my place had been set - the complete other end of the table from Celina. 

(Left and below: A couple swipes of the pen repurposes the Hello Kitty magic.) 

The boys crowded 'round the tech, while I tried to work my way to the other end to see what was happening.  

(Above: Seaweed salad / Left: A savoury rose.) 

Such as the fight between Esther and Stephen for the gorgeous, full tray of maki rolls and sushi. 

Despite the antics, Esther was actually really good making sure Stephen did get a share of everything (despite him being more interested in talking to Kevin and Paul). 

Dessert came in the form of mango and green tea ice cream.  I brought  spoonful of the green stuff to Paul, interrupting Stephen's math riddle challenge.  He refused. 

Me (confused): Why?  You like ice cream. 
Paul: Oh, I thought it was wasabi.

Back on the other side of the table, the trickster gears in Esther's brain turned. She stuck a green spoonful in front of Stephen's face.

Esther: You will eat what I feed you! 

He did.  It was ice cream.  Oh, the trust! 

Though Stephen did turn around and asked us all another riddle:

A woman met the man of her dreams (who she's never met before) at her mother's funeral.  Unfortunately, she wasn't able to get his number.  A few days later, she killed her sister.  Why?* 

The answer (and conclusion from it), which Esther had answered correctly before (without having read it in the past like me) didn't cast her in a particularly good light. 

Lilian, her mom, Esther and Stephen took off to Dream Tea House (just two doors down) -- unable to resist a bubble tea while they were in the neighbourhood.  But Paul and I headed over to Theresa, Carl, Celina and Kevin's.  I had heard about and really wanted to play this new dancing game they had. 

Apparently the game system could detect and know what the players were doing, without having to strap on any equipment. 

I walked within range and saw myself on the screen. 

"I'm so fat."  

The words came out loud before I could stop them.  And sadly, I realised a part of me knew it didn't matter if I pretended anymore and that's why it allowed me to slip.* 

There was a time when I tried to hide my body and weight issues, and promote a healthier outlook to all this for Celina because I thought it mattered.  I didn't want her to be caught up thinking physical beauty all important or that what we saw on television / magazines / internet was the beauty standard... I didn't want her to think about dieting for looks rather than health or that it was healthy to obsess weight... So I made sure I didn't do it in front of her.  Or atleast I really tried. 

* The happy side of this calculation was knowing she was strong and beautiful.

Anyway, she and Kevin just laughed.  I took off my big hoodie and got into the dancing.  Or really, playing the game. 

The screen showed computer animated dancers doing the moves we were supposed to follow.  Some of these moves had names, but some seemed rather random.  Points were awarded for hitting the proper moves with the proper beats.  And we were immediately rewarded with bursts of lights and colour on the screen. 

Na had once talked about this game before... and she was right - it's hilarious to watch. 

In between the songs and challenges, the dancers would also trash talk to each other. All the more funny since I knew how bad I looked.

Celina was by far the best - and since they just got the game she hadn't practiced.  (Right: Stayin' alive by striking an awesome pose.)

I suspect her secret plans today will involve playing this with her girlfriends. 

It kind of makes me wish we had a television... and a games system... and the game...

Happy Sweet Sixteen, Celina
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* The riddle and answer is here, and also at snopes, where origins of it are also debunked.