my 10 year old self

This is a photo of my 10 year old self that sits in a frame on my desk (along with framed photos of Emma, Ernst & Beatrice) and I look at her every day. Most days just in passing without much thought or focus. The idea to frame a photo of my childhood self came from the book Simple Abundance - A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach. Beginning with January the book has a short essay/project for each day of the year.


February 12th

Find a photograph of yourself when you were about 10. Make sure you’re smiling. Put it in a pretty frame and place it on your bedside table or desk and look at it every day. Send love to that young girl. Try to travel back in time and imagination. See yourself at ten: at home, at school, and at play.





I love this photo of myself. I love it for many reasons. I love that we obviously forgot that that day was school photo day and no one thought to doll me up for my picture. I remember clearly that I had just come in from playing soccer. The part in my hair's not straight, I have on my favourite hand knit red sweater over another favourite (Camp Falcon) t-shirt. I was a tom boy then. I loved life and I loved school and I had the best teacher in the whole world - Reg Porter who managed to make every subject absolutely fascinating. He's the teacher that read to us aloud My Family and Other Animals, hankie in hand laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks, who taught us Latin after school and who took us on mass to the quarry with nets made of old pantyhose to collect microscopic pond creatures in mason jars to bring back to our classroom and study, in little glass slides with wells so they stayed alive, under the microscope. I couldn't wait to get to school each day. Life seemed like one giant adventure. That year and that teacher had a huge influence on me and who I've become.

I'm amazed at the look of absolute serenity on my face in this photo, I see serenity with maybe even a dash of wisdom. No worries or concerns and not a hint of self consciousness. It's just the face of a carefree, blissfully happy 6th grader.

invincible

snowman -from the illustration archives

The usual drill 5:00 something am, big mug of freshly brewed coffee, CBC international programming on the radio and I'm sitting here at my laptop typing by the glow of the screen. Heaven. Getting up and beginning a new day, sitting here each morning deciding what I might like to say and going to bed each evening, to my cozy flannel nest with lots of pillows, a fluffy down duvet and a book or a stack of new magazines- my two favourite times of the day. The in between time, most days, seems a race to see if I can accomplish all the things that I 'd like to get done. Two big walks with my sweeties, minor tidying up (dishes etc), a little cooking either for me or les chiens and I try to get 5 hours of design work in (more if I'm on a deadline). Honestly the days whip by me at a lightening speed...

Last night as I was getting ready to climb the stairs and head up to my bedroom I was thinking about this blog. I often decide the night before what image I will post the next day, however, most mornings I have no idea what I will write about. To me it's like writing in my journal each morning - the only difference now is I do know that I have a tiny audience and I'm sure that that must have some influence, although I believe it's subtle.

Last night I was considering again the option of posting in the evenings before bed instead of posting early in the early morning (my thinking was why not try and use up some of my down-ish time instead of sucking up and hour or more each morning of my just-got-up-rarin'-to-go-ultimate energy time) but I quickly decided that this idea was not an option. I'm SO much a morning person, so filled (most days) with optimistic enthusiasm at this early morning time of day. I'm afraid that if I posted in the evening my blog would quickly seem as if it was written by someone else.

Written by that other person, who tends to be hard on herself, whose easily disappointed when her days aren't filled with perfect productivity, who's wish list of to-dos and must dos is miles long and would never ever be even nearly dealt with, a person who's in an almost constant state of mild to medium dissatisfaction. This person is so happy to finally by 8pm call it a day, the bell has rung - this day's over. She'll puff up the pillows, she'll sip a cup of tea, and she'll drift off to sleep with a cat (Oliver) draped over her and wait for a new day to begin.

In the mornings this blog is written by someone else. By someone who's suddenly overnight, become once again, invincible. By someone who can accomplish anything, who appreciates her life and all the amazing little moments in her day, who feels so grateful and fortunate to have the life she lives. This early morning person I choose to believe is the real me, the me I become, once again, miraculously through the night ... while I sleep. ...the me who loves her life here at 29 Black Street.

christmas lights

Christmas lights

It's one of those mornings that I want to go back to my nest with my coffee, lie in the dark and listen to radio Prague (broadcast on CBC radio). I slept really well last night. We had more snow through the day yesterday and high winds through the night and I felt snug & cozy tucked in my flannel sheets. Last night at supper time Jake & Winnie and I went for a walk down to the park and along the harbour and down to the end of Water St. to the seawall and the tide was as high as I've ever seen it. Big dark choppy waves, splashing against rock and cement and the height of the tide just a foot or so below the edge. I'm sure that I had heard mention of a possible tidal surge along our coastline on the radio earlier. As we stood there gazing out into the inky blackness, only the flickers of buoys, which guide big ships into this little harbour, twinkling in the dark I was thinking how the ocean is both beautiful and frightening at the same time, at least I find it that way. To fall into that deep blackness - would be so terrifying. This week I watched The Fifth Estate -Overboard the investigation of Laura Gainey falling overboard from the Picton Castle a year ago. Falling into 20 ft waves and gale force winds with no life jacket, no flares and only her voice to help guide her rescuers. They could hear her calling for hours, out there somewhere in that stormy blackness - but they never found her. I can't imagine anything more frightening - a horrible tragic event that should never have happened.

We turned around to begin our walk home, Winnie & Jake madly sniffing everything and not paying much attention to me at all. We walked back in the darkness our path lit only by the street lights, back to our house, the brick house on Black Street, where our kitchen window is brightly lit up with cheery Christmas lights.

snowy

10 am - the view from my second floor office window

If you look at the centre of this photo you'll see a grey band - that's our little harbour, the building on the corner is the Village Hall and the park begins at the end of this street - Black Street

precipitation

Winnie Dixon & Jake, yesterday, in the pasture by the back shore beach

Well it was one of those mornings where you're almost afraid to look outside - the weather forecast when I went to bed was calling for huge amounts of snow for parts of the Maritimes - Moncton bracing for up to 50cms. I've become a very restless sleeper, as those of you who are regulars to this blog know, and through the night I was trying to judge the type of precipitation by the sounds of the tapping on my bedroom window. It mostly sounded like freezing rain to me. Because we live on the coast, and the warm waters of the Northumberland Strait, we often get rain when others are getting snow.

A snow plow just drove down Water Street and the view from my office window is a winter wonderland. All snowy and sparkly, the five lit Christmas trees twinkle from the park, just down the street, which edges the harbour and the Village Hall, on the corner, windows are all aglow with those electric five taper red candles. The local morning show, from Charlottetown, on CBC radio has begun listing the raft of cancellations and delays. Kids for miles around will be yelling yipee! when they wake up, as all schools are canceled, and bundling up to go outside and play in it - the perfect snow for snowmen. I just let the sweeties outside for a pee, in their dog yard, and it feels like rain to me. Milder temperatures and heavy wet snow to shovel - but thankfully not too much of it.

Dare I say, my boy is over his bout of the runs, finally, finally yesterday everything seemed completely back to normal. No Kaopectate, just lots of his regular homemade food, with pure pumpkin mixed in (which they both love love) and he's on his last few tablets of antibiotics and things, yesterday were all normal. Last night when I went to bed, for the first time in what seems like ages, I felt happy. I wasn't worrying about waking up in the night, because if I did wake up, which I always do, I wouldn't be lying there wondering if my dog was gravely ill, with some internal badness that was causing this extreme bout of diarrhea. If I woke up last night, which I did plenty of times, I could just lie there listening to the gentle snoring breath of my sweet dogs and think about the tap, tap, tapping of snow & ice on my bedroom window.

winter

an antique silver pitcher, a curling club prize, from my grandmother Flo's home

Well it would seem that winter has arrived here in Nova Scotia, we've had a cold blustery weekend, the ground is covered with crunchy snow and today's forecast is for another 20cms (about 8 inches). Doesn't sound like a lot but if you combine it with our normal seaside winds you end up with lots of drifts, often well past my knees and even deeper for les chiens. Although the pastures at the beach often get blown practically clean of snow which makes for perfect walking.

Today will be day three of the boy's most recent round of medications and we've not seen any remarkable change. After our regular midnight trip downstairs so he could go out I convinced him to come up on the bed with me where he slept the rest of the night. My Noodle. I am trying to think positively, to not assume that his ongoing loose poop is the sign or symptom of something big & bad, but it's difficult and it's hard not to be worried. It's hard not to look into those gentle almond shaped eyes and not feel sad and heartbroken I want so badly to fix him. He still is super energetic (he secretly nears drives me crazy at times he's so wound for sound - we need to have two big long walks each day or else he's very restless), he needs a lot of exercise and stimulation, he's still really hungry, he does not seem sick at all - except for the frequent and loose poops. I'm going to pick up some more pure pumpkin this morning (that did seem to help) and Miss Dixon loves it.

Had a great long chat with my sister Sandra yesterday morning and she totally agreed, and let me off the hook with this Christmas present thing. We decided that beginning next year the only gifts allowed will be hand made. I do still hope to send a package of Christmas food goodies, caramel popcorn, fudge and the like -off in the post to them.

Draw, draw lots of finished photo frame drawings and big long wintry walks with les chiens my only priorities today.


les chiens - Jake & Winnie Dixon

brrrrr

miss Winnie Dixon with her snowy muzzle


Jake having a big ol' shake after making a doggy snow angel

Snowy & cold here this morning. The afternoon Christmas by the Sea festivities were canceled yesterday due to the blustery, snowy conditions and it continued to howl & blow all night. We didn't have any great accumulation of snow but the wind has blown it all around in drifts and gullies and I realize that I need to retrieve my shovel from the shed. We'll stay put this morning - no driving to the beach as I suspect the roads, this early on a Sunday morn, will still be treacherous. Instead, this morning I'll bundle up in my snow gear and we'll tromp around in their (Jake & Winnie's) giant fenced in dog yard and later in the day if things calm down a little we'll drive to the beach and maybe walk through, the now cow-free, pastures or we'll just walk down to the park and along the harbour now lit by 5 giant Christmas trees.

I have a big 15 photo frame project to get done in the next two days, so after my bath and some fun with the dogs, I'll have a quick chat with my sister and then hunker down at a tidy desk with a steaming mug of hot orange tea and get in a work groove. Goal is to try and draw 8 of the 15 today. It's perfect day to stay cozy inside.

Here's the recipe for a delicious orange tea drink to have hot and steaming. I like it better than mulled cider although it does have an ingredient I wouldn't normally have in my pantry -Tang orange crystals.

Orange Spice Tea

I package of Tang
1 envelope Crystal Light ice tea
1 tea bag of Chai spice tea

Add the above to about 8 cups of water in a large covered beverage container. Stir well & keep in the fridge. Heat on the stove or in the microwave, add a little water if it seems too strong, stir with a cinnamon stick. Perfect if you're feeling a cold coming on.


cookies purchased at a special Christmas by the Sea Farmers Market

oh oh !

a Christmas card idea from the design files

Everything, this morning, is covered with a light blanket of snow, we're in the midst of our first village Christmas by the Sea weekend long festival, and I'm reaching my maximum Christmas spirit, in fact I think perhaps I reached the crest yesterday and may even be on the downward slide. I'm sorry to dissappoint but I think part of me just doesn't get it, this Christmas thing. When I look back on my life I think I've always wanted it to be that magical storybook time of the year, twinkling lights, beautiful ornaments, shopping for just the right gift and then carefully wrapping parcels & packages while drinking mulled cider, baking goodies with carolls playing & watching all the holiday specials and Christmas movies on TV. It's 3 weeks away, and I'm just not into it. This year I've decided to take what money I would spend on gifts and donate it, split between the food bank, the animal shelter, and a methadone clinic in Halifax that BFF Harry's daughter Mia volunteers at, she's in her last year of a Bachelor of Nursing, and it's a cause that she has become very passionate about and her passion rubbed off on me in a conversation she and I had last night. They make up baskets for the clients of food items and personal care items like shampoo and toothpaste.

So that's my Christmas plan. This weekend I will retrieve my pre-lit, pre-decorated, Canadian Tire, 3 ft artificial tree from the crawl space and plug it in -Voila! and I'm sure Gussie & Oliver will think that it has been displayed purely for their entertainment. I do plan to make my gifts of foodie things (caramel corn, gourmet bits & bites, fudge and almond cherry ice box cookies) for my local friends and an assortment of dog cookies for the gang of canines that we hang with. I hope to get those two projects done in the next couple of weeks. But then that's it - tout fini pour moi.

Jake and I went to the vet yesterday, to town and to our regular vet. His super duper blood work is fine, he has lost 5 lbs since the end of August (he weighs 73lbs which is his youthful dog weight), their guess is that his diarrhea is most likely related to the wildlife poop that he's eaten and we came home with a de-wormer/parasite medication and 5 days of a flagyl an antibiotic specifically for a bacterial/parasitic problem. Things should begin clearing up in a couple of days, if not then the diarrhea could be a symptom of something much more serious - like the dreaded "C" word. But we're not going there. He's my energetic, kooky, crazy, hungry, goofy, bright & alert noodle at the moment and he's not showing any other signs of illness. Actually he's lying here beside me as I write this ... snoring happily.

bleet loves jake

Bleet curled up on the bed with his dog, Jake

Bleet considers Jake his mother, when Bleet arrived here on Black Street an abandoned teeny tiny kitten, too young to really be away from his mother, sweet patient Jake allowed this little kitten to crawl all over him, to knead and purr and suckle on little pieces of his fur twisted and slimed into a makeshift teat and to sleep curled up in the warmth of his red furry coat. Bleet has adored Jake since then, 8 years ago this February. Sometimes I catch Bleet sitting beside Jake, while Jake's sprawled out on the floor, Bleet leaning in with just his little forehead firmly pressed against Jake's body, purring madly. When it's getting late and dark and Bleet is still outside somewhere and I'm having no luck convincing him to come in, I take Jake outside and if I can get him to bark, Bleet will come running, every time.

My goodness what a week it's been. Things however, are SO much better, and finally returning to almost normal here at 29 Black Street. Winnie's curled up right now on a bed under my desk and her tummy, today, has the squeaks and grumbles - maybe there's some little doggy bug goin' round. I added pure pumpkin (from a can) to the doggy diarrhea diet (white rice, lean hamburger and yogurt) last night and I am thrilled to report that things are normal again ... finally. I'm sure it's a combination of Neovast, diet, Kaopectate and mostly time - these things just have to run their course. I'm convinced now that it was some bacterial thing acquired from eating one of the assortment of yucky wildlife delicacies that he chows down on every morning. Sigh. We will make a trip to our regular vet on Monday now, when we'll be sure that all blood work results will be there and we'll have a check up, see about his thyroid levels, get weighed (him, not me!) and when we're finished at the vet, Jake and I will split a double cheeseburger at Dairy Queen (a regular post vet treat).

A snowy day forecast for tomorrow, Blustery and 10-15cms. Perfect!

Have a great weekend ... I know I'm going to!

better still

Winnie Dixon & Jake

Second cup of coffee here beside me, smelly bubble bath a pouring and my Noodle dog is on the mend. Hallelujah!! He had one very minor accident through the night and I really believe that perhaps this morning after we park the car and stroll into the nearby field and he has his morning constitution that I'll be jumping up and down and singing cause I think we're going to have a firm poop. You know you're over the top when a firm poop feels like you've won a lottery, but honestly that's how I feel. We'll still make a trip to town to visit out regular vet to review the results of his super duper blood work either tomorrow or Monday depending on how things continue today. Poor Miss Dixon has been quite freaked out, confused and I'm sure feeling a little left out as so much attention has been focused on the Noodle. She's a very sensitive little dog, my Winnie Dixon and this past week has made her feel a little insecure. There's been lots of commotion, what with all those mad rushes out of my chair, Jake and I flying down the stairs, poor him with his hindquarters hunched while trying to run as we both make the dash for the sun porch door and out into their big dog yard. Sometimes making it ... and many times not.

Lots of design work on the go, that part of my life is excellent and thankfully now it seems Jake is a little better my concentration & focusing abilities will be much improved.

The first 2 cords of my 4 cords of wood has finally arrived and it looks beautiful and dry and really the pile doesn't even look too big to me ... if I had to pile some of it myself I think I might even enjoy it, that's my new my dog is better so everything in the world is better attitude shining through.

Had a lovely chat with my Aunt Sally, late in the afternoon, calling from Montreal with Mother Hen concern for me and the boy which was very sweet and meant an awful lot to us. I think everyone needs and loves a Mother Hen ... at least I know I sure do!

And this weekend is our little villages first ever holiday season festival - Christmas by the Sea. Beginning tomorrow night and continuing all day Saturday the village will be abuzz with a raft of events, a wine & cheese fund raising open house for the local animal shelter, tree trimming contests with carolers, a desert tea event, an open house at the library, lots of retail sales and specials and everyone serving Christmas goodies - you can count on hot spiced cider, lots of shortbread cookies and Quality Street chocolates - everywhere. BFF Harry and I have yet to draw up our itinerary as we plan to tool around town together and take in as many events as possible ... a few hours Friday evening and a few hours Saturday afternoon.

Hopefully Jake will continue to feel better and better, on his way back to normal.

more poop talk

a young Jake and Emma Jane, taken maybe 10 years ago

I would say that life in general here at 29 Black Street is slightly improving, slightly less nerve wracking, although yesterday certainly had it's moments. It's been diarrhea days here for nearly a week, my boy suffering with, at times, an explosive uncontrollable case of the runs complete with gurgling squeaking belly. Switched from Pepto Bismal to Kaopectic (vanilla flavour) at the suggestion of another dog loving friend who'd recently been to her vet for a similar episode. I sop up a tablespoon with a slice of whole wheat bread and gradually, since noon yesterday, things have been firming up. His stool sample results finally came back - negative and he continues on a weeks worth of Neovast and his big full blood work results are back on Friday. They've been sent to the UPEI vet college for the super duper full deal testing something that every geriatric pet, at some point, should have.

He just barked at me to come downstairs and put the cat food plates on the floor so he could clean them up for me. His behaviour continues to be his kooky energetic self, but you can tell that he has some discomfort at that end, his poor bum is sore from all this poopin' and he's upset with himself that he often doesn't make it outside to do his business. My crappy old linoleum floors are cleaner now than then they've been for ages. Loads of paper towels and a big bucket of hot sudsy water with a little bleach and things are cleaned up in a pinch.

I have not had a good experience with this new vet and I'm quite sure that I won't be going back. It's a combination of things but it really boils down to perception. So true perception is 20/20. My perception is that I am not getting the treatment, service and compassion that I expect (and demand) from my vet. The receptionist there should not be dealing with people, she was rude and flip with me when I called yesterday to check, 24 hrs later, to see what the results of his stool sample were and of course they hadn't yet done the test (at my regular vet they have support staff to do these tests quickly, I called to check - 30 mins to have results from a stool sample). Pas de sense of urgency at this new vet clinic. Diarrhea for 5 days + 13 year old dog = quick stool sample test in my books, and they are just my books. Even if she, at the other end, was madly rolling her eyes up at the ceiling, she should have talked to me in a calm, reassuring voice, that of course I understand how worried you are about your much loved pet voice, instead she was sarcastic with a patronizing tone. When you're choosing a vet, you want to feel (from everyone tout la staff), you want the perception, that your pet is the most important thing, at that moment, in the world, to them. I feel that I gave them a fair chance and I'm glad that I did ... but ... I will now continue to happily drive the 40 mins to town to take my much loved brood of 6 to Dr. Diane Stevens.

noodle

Noodle, Jake, Buck, Sweetie, my hero dog ... bringing his two sticks ashore

At 2:30 yesterday afternoon, after a rather explosive episode of diarrhea, I called the vet, the new vet, and made an appointment for 3:30 for me and the boy and his stool sample. I had planned to take them to the beach (Winnie & he) around 3pm anyway so we left a little early. I threw a few sticks into the icy ocean for Jake, we needed to clean his nether areas up a bit and I had been having no luck a la sponge bath method. Cold schmold as far as he was concerned and it was a milder day yesterday. Today the forecast is for +14 and rain so I'll make sure we go again to the beach in the afternoon and we'll throw some sticks for my boy. He loves it so. Honestly it's like giving him a pep pill, he gallops out of the water, bucking and wriggling like a little red stallion, a big huge grin on his face.

The whole vet experience was fine (fine -the word you use when it wasn't really bad but it wasn't really good either), he's fine (we think), no terrible news, blood work yet to come back and stool sample yet to be checked - but his examination was fine. For a 13 year old dog (Dec 04 his birthday) he's amazing, people can't believe it - how trim, how muscular, how alert & bright, except for his faded muzzle, you'd never know how senior he really is. He had blood taken from his jugular vein, his temperature taken, felt and squeezed, mouth forced open to check his beautiful teeth and healthy pink gums and he sat through it all with the most relaxed and gentle demeanor - they always comment on that as well, he's just a big chilled out lug, he's an incredible dog, my noodle.

The vet visit wasn't good because it was chaotic, it's a brand new vet, their facility is not ready yet and they're working out of a small trailer. She Dr. Hunter, seemed very nice, kind and caring but a little frazzled, a little all over the place, and not instilling in me the utmost in confidence. We were there for two hours, most of it spent in a teeny tiny makeshift reception area, where the heat was turned up too high and I was forced to make too much small talk all the while inside my head I'm just praying, that my boy is OK. Yeah, yeah yada yada yada ...please god let him live as many years as possible, Em was headed toward 16 years and, of course, I'm hoping and praying for that again.

If this had been an appointment for Gus or Oliver, a young animal, and say for something run of the mill, like ear mites, I would have felt that the visit to this new vet was perfectly OK. But ... this was a trip with my 13 year old soul mate dog and I wanted to feel like I was at the Mayo Clinic, I wanted the best, state of the art everything. I'm not convinced that, for him anyway, I will switch from the previous vet where I did have a much more Mayo clinic experience, simply because they've been doing it for years and years. He came home with a week's worth of antibiotics and test results hopefully by Friday. Carol, aunt and legal guardian to my dogs, and practically a vet herself, suggested on the phone last night that perhaps he had switched from his hypothyroidism (which he's had for years) to hyperthyroidism (not an uncommon occurrence). I think she's bang on, after googling til the cows come home, I've discovered that he has every single symptom of a hyperthyroid dog (and diarrhea being one of them). That means a simple switch in medication to Tapazole and blood work a couple of times a year.

I still feel upset, that bubbly gnawing feeling in my stomach, that catch in my throat. Jake is 13, we're on borrowed time now and I am very lucky that he's as healthy as he is. It's reminded me, yet again, that their lives are far too short, that heartache and grief are unavoidable, and the line is SO fine between living in the present moment and trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable.

quest

a detail of my front door wreath

the boy is downstairs barking at me, his please put the cat food dishes down on the floor for me bark (the cats eat on a raised table in the laundry room- this is so they can eat and not have all their food snarfed down by a big ol' retriever), the bark which is very distinct from his I need to go out bark. It's much more rapid, short, sharp little barks in his new senior dog gravely, much deeper voice. These barks are urgent and demanding. One of Jake's favourite things is to lick and clean those little plates around the kitchen floor so there isn't a speck of cat food left on them - it's pretty much part of our morning routine. I give in, it thrills him, hey I just live here, they (cats - Lulu, Bleet, Oliver & Gus and dogs - Jake & Winnie) run the show.

He's still battling the runs and if he wasn't so much his normal kooky, crazy, energetic, starvin', front paws up on the counter to see what he can steal self, I think I would be more concerned and making a vet appointment. My sister told me yesterday on the phone that when Michael was a baby he once had diarrhea for 11 days, she even took a sample in and there was nothing they could find wrong ... it just eventually passed. So for now we'll continue with a diet of squash, rice and yogurt, more pepto bismal-peanut butter bread bites and no extra treats (no last bites of buttered bagel smeared with soft boiled egg and no sharing clementines) until we get this under control.

Monday morning, yet another chance to impress myself with a fantastically productive & perfect-in-every-way week - that's the goal ... that always seems to be the goal ... perfection. My eternal quest

cookies

cookies + milk = comfort

Sunday ... sigh.
A bubble bath, an extra long walk through pastures, down red clay cliffs and onto seaweed strewn beaches with two girlfriends and five dogs, bundled up well, in fleece, as it's -8C and colder near the water, a big long phone chat with my one and only sibling Sandra, a few household chores, drawing new thumbnails at my desk while listening to Sunday's excellent CBC radio line up, later, from 4-5, an hour or so lying on my bed with the Saturday Globe & Mail and then an evening project (perhaps designing my Christmas cards) from 5-7 while listening to Cross Country Check Up (with very handsome, in that really smart way, Rex Murphy), the topic tonight the Mulroney/Schreiber affair - intriguing & compelling listening, will help keep me glued to my desk.

Dreamt last night of flying to Africa via London, my destination Tra La La, Africa, my imaginary place. Smile.

I have been thinking about oatmeal cookies for some time and found this recipe in the IWK Taste of Telethon cookbook. They're delicious, crisp & chewy and I ate far too many yeserday.

Crispy Granola Cookies

2/3 cup of butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla 1/2 tsp almond extract
3/4 cup of whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
2 cups granola (I used Quaker Harvest Crunch - Honey Nut light & crispy)
1/4 cup sliced almonds (toasted)
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup coconut

Beat sugar and butter until light and creamy, add egg and extracts. Put granola in a food processor and pulse a few times or place it in a zip lock bag and smash and roll it with a rolling pin. You want the granola to be fairly small crumbs. Mix granola with remaining dry ingredients in a large bowl add butter mixture. Shape into 1 inch balls and flattened with a fork dipped in water. Bake at 325 fro 7-10 minutes or until edges are beginning to brown.

Cherry Almond Coconut variation - substitute raisins for 1/4 cup finely slice maraschino cherries.

beatrice again

Beatrice, I would say the calender girl for adopting a senior dog

That face, and those eyes filled with so much kindness and faith and wisdom. This photo is a repeat, first posted on this blog in August. It's from a Nikon print ad, photos taken by regular people. I was tidying up my desk the other day and I came across it. I had torn the page out of a magazine and honestly looking at her face just does something to me ... it makes my heart melt, it makes me want to cry, and makes me want to stop all my silly nit picking and fussing and love exactly what I have - all around me. I've put Beatrice in a frame and now she sits here by my laptop and I get lost when I look into those eyes. Lost in a very good way.

The Noodle (Jake) is better, not completely, but the most important thing is he's not showing any other signs of illness. He's still my starvin marvin, energetic, alert & bright. So more pepto peanut butter sandwiches and white rice on the menu again today.

Yesterday afternoon I had my hair cut in a fairly extreme shag, lots of long curly tendrily bits at the bottom and short and layered and feathered on the top. I then quickly walked the short distance to the post office where in this village all the big hair chat happens. I had to get the critique, had to see if I could make Rhonda & Sue (the Canada post girls) squeal. They did, lots of Oh I love it and Oh you look 10 years younger and on & on. Smirk. Great excitement in our little village. I continued on to do a few errands, stopped to have a pedicure with Leah (I designed her logo identity and bartered for aesthetician stuff - love those kinda trades) and ended up at BFF Harry's little decor & gift store to hang out for awhile during the first of several holiday open house events. Lots more Oh I love your hair!! my new fancy big city haircut quickly becoming the talk of the town. Smile.

Went to bed with a stack of new December magazines - Domino, Mind Body + Soul, Elle Decor, Oprah, O at Home & Gourmet (I know, I've got the magazine thing bad - I feel it's really my one and only big extravagance and when you live so far removed from urban life it's almost a necessity). Drifted off into lovely dreams of a handsome man, handsome in that really smart kind of way, with mild to medium left politics gently worn on his sleeve, who had a beautiful big home filled with interesting things (a big long harvest table, loads of books and maps) and I slept much better last night.

.

pepto dismal

another of my favourite photos ... of Jake & me

I love this photo because it sums up the relationship I have with this dog, he's one of those soul mate dogs, every now & then there's a dog who shares your life that you have an extra special connection with. He's incredibly kind and gentle, strong and unflappable, he's my comfort, he's my hero. This photo is from a few years ago, back when my guest room was painted lavender and the floors were a purplish blue. The guest room is now the colour of chocolate pudding with glossy black floors.

I actually slept in this morning. 5:22 - had an awful night, my boy (Jake) isn't feeling well, he's suffering from a bad bout of diarrhea and I was up a billion times in the night and when I wasn't up I was dreaming bad dreams (nightmares ?) about a team of concerned friends, allies, neighbours and even neighbourhood children who had decided to help me clean up my home, my yard and garden ... my life. Which believe me would not be a bad thing, the bad part was the embarrassment & humiliation, plus in dreamland the chaos and squalor, the dust and the hair, and the piles of stuff seemed much more exaggerated. So between listening, while sleeping, so I wouldn't miss the sounds of the boy pacing around downstairs, meaning he needs to go out, or getting up and finding I hadn't heard him in time and cleaning up a few accidents (thankfully he has a favourite spot on my shittéy old linoleum floors that he goes if an accident should happen and I had, in anticipation, covered this spot with newspapers) not much true sleep actually happened. Poor Noodle, I think his bum is sore from all of this. But he's still eating ...which for Jake is a very good sign ... when he stops being interested in food we know that things are very serious.

We had a terrible scare in April of this year when he suddenly just completely stopped eating. This is a dog who just this week ate an entire green pepper, seeds and stem, he stole off the counter and if you recall, just a month ago, he ate half a dozen everything bagels and some of the plastic bag that they came in, before I had a chance to put my groceries away. He'll eat anything, and on our morning hikes, he sniffs out lots of little wildlife delicacies (if you get my drift) along with a few dead crab legs and a healthy serving of seaweed. I suspect that he has eaten something bad. Diarrhea and Jake are old friends, this is not uncommon, however when you're best friend is nearly thirteen and you've been through one recent close call, well, it's difficult not to panic. We have a vet in the village now, so we know longer have to make the 40 min. (because I drive the speed limit) trek to town. I've made a big ol' pot of white rice, and I have a big bottle of Pepto-Bismol (which I soak whole wheat bagel pieces in and then smear with peanut butter -yum) and I'm going to wait until we're back from our walk before I decide if we should make a trip to the vet.

My guess is this will pass, he's just eaten something that's not agreeing with him. At the moment he's lying here beside me snoring softy, he and Winnie Dixon, waiting patiently for the action to begin. I do love those dogs.

reader

piles of reading material by my bedside

You know I've always considered myself to be an avid reader but lately the statement avid reader is one I can bandy around only in theory. I am keenly interested in books, I peruse book sights, I read reviews, I listen to Writers & Co. with Eleanor Wachtel, I go the library every Tuesday like clockwork- Tuesday is book delivery day, I search titles online and order tons of books through an amazing provincial wide library system. I order the new hottest must read fiction, cookbooks, craft & design books, non-fiction books, unabridged books on CD that I can listen to while drawing all my little drawings. I order titles so frequently that almost every Tuesday something has arrived for me. But lately... the actual reading of the books, well, it just isn't happening and I'm not sure what has happened to me. I used to be an avid reader.

Anyone who's been reading along with this blog for a time knows that my sleeping schedule has begun the long gradual trip to weirdness. Flannel PJ's on at 7pm, and up drinking coffee at 4:40am many mornings recently. I worry (very mildly) that this just isn't good, it's just not right. The rest of the world is just beginning their evenings and I'm thinking about going to bed, everyone else talks about the pleasures of sleeping in and I look at them like I absolutely have no idea what they're talking about. I love getting up - if I'm awake and it's past 4am I want to get up - it's the best part of a brand new day.

It's dark these daylight savings evenings at 5pm. The sweeties and I go for our pm walk along the harbour's edge, we come home have a bite to eat and maybe watch a little pre-taped commercial free TV, do the dishes, tidy the kitchen and oh look it's 7pm and I think to myself maybe I'll put my pajamas on, puff up lots of pillows and lie on the nest, or try to really sit up in the nest and read. I know that it has a lot to do with the darkness, and I guess I am tired because I've been up & active for nearly 15 hours (24-15=9, minus another hour for the time putzing around getting ready for bed, and then the 15 mins or so that I am actually awake, in bed, book in hand with intentions to read, even just 1 chapter a night please ?1?*). So I am getting 8 hours of sleep, nothing weird about that.

I do love reading and there are a billion books that I want to read. It seems I just get all comfy and situated in my heavenly bed and Bleet will arrive and decide that he'd like to lie in his favourite spot, which is on my chest just under my chin. So I'll put the book over to one side, turn the pages with the same hand that's holding the book (I'm getting quite good at it) while I scratch under his chin with the other hand, which he loves and it makes him purr madly, and my focus is diverted. Quality time with the Ness. Or ...even if I'm Bleet-less, and have both hands to hold my book I just find the act of reading in bed, which is the place I most like to read, like a big ol' sedative these days, honestly a few pages, and I'm gone. Lights on, sound asleep, every night.

The books read column, on this blog, pitifully lists three books, three non-fiction books - since July. Maybe the column should be books I'd like to read and then the column would be really long & chock full of interesting titles. I'm not sure what the answer is ... maybe coffee late in the afternoon.

very cool website - what should you read next? You just finished a book that you loved, plug in the title and this sight will give recommendations of what to read next

Don't miss Masterpiece Theatre, on your local PBS channel Sunday the 25th, is airing My Family and other Animals - my absolute favourite book of all times. If you love animals and nature, and love to laugh til you cry, rush out to your nearest second hand bookstore (I guarantee they'll have a copy) and pick up this first book of a wonderful trilogy by Gerald Durrell and don't miss Masterpiece Theatre this Sunday evening.

little things... #2

Miss Winnifred Leora Dixon-Black

Basking in morning sunlight in her favourite arm chair, the one in the upstairs hallway that sits by a big window, the sunniest spot in this house. She is a basker, she loves the sun and in the summer will often lay outside in a big patch of sunlight until her little black body is baked and warm to the touch, and I'll tell her that she's my little Mediterranean sun dog. I don't know how many times a day I look at her and think how lucky I am to have her ... how it was meant to be, she and I. When I adopted her, her name was Princess, which I didn't think suited her although I do still from time to time put Princess in front of the above proper full name. I'm not sure how I came up with Winnie but it suits her perfectly. The Dixon came from my memories of vacations in Florida and shopping at the big American grocery store chain Winn Dixie - I love American grocery stores, SO many things that we don't get here (and weird things like aerosol cheese spread). The Leora was added later, Carol, Winnie & Jake's Aunt and official legal guardian and who walks with us each morning at the beach, had an Aunt Leora who sniffed everything before she put it in her mouth - a habit Miss Dixon also has. Winnie is very fickle & fussy when it comes to accepting dog treats from anyone but me (it's almost like she thinks they might be trying to poison her, she definitely has a few trust issues) and she always has a big ol' snuff before deciding if she wants it and often turns her nose up at Carol's offerings ...so Carol started calling her Leora, and it suits her as well. When she wades around in the ocean up to her belly and comes ashore with her fluffy, wiry black body and little skinny wet legs Carol calls her Wanda Cameron ... Winnie Dixon with her skinny lil' Wanda Cameron legs. I don't know Wanda Cameron myself, but I guess her legs are skinny.

more little things that make me happy....

- clementines
- dog breath
- flannel sheets
- talking with Michael (19 year old nephew) on Skype
- darkness
- the smell of paws
- my red Koh-I-Noor Rapidomatic mechanical pencil
- Christmas lights

some jazz

more tools of the trade...

my water colour pencils, perfect for adding touches of colour to my little thumbnail drawings. Awoke this morning from busy, repetitive dreams of sparkly bits, crystals and jewels, angel's wings, velvet & satin ribbons and fine silver chains. The kind of dream I often have when I'm in the midst of a really great, exciting project. My jewellery design project is coming along amazingly. Received an email yesterday responding to several pages of thumbnails that I had sent out Friday. Double clicked, crossing my fingers on both hands, hoping & praying that she would be happy with the direction that I was taking. You just never know for sure if you've headed off down the right path, especially when working with a brand new customer. Well, she, they, love everything (?). In my heart, deep inside, there is a part of me that I know should not be surprised that they're so thrilled with my work (they hired me based on many samples of jewellery design from my portfolio and they were thrilled then). But most of me not only feels surprised but feels, well, kind of knock me over with a feather this has been all SO easy, so fluid and lovely and perfect. A dream job & a dream client, a pinch me situation - big time, and I am SO thankful ... if you remember this time last year I was afraid I would have to take a job at my local grocery store to try and make ends meet (which I know would send me into a deep abyss of depression, as at heart I am an anti-social creature - that's why I do, for the most part, so well, home alone with my animals each and every day). 2006 was a very bad year, and in many ways. It's amazing and wonderful how much things can change if you just hang in there. Something for me to remember the next time I'm wide awake at 2 in the morning having one of my fret fests - you have no idea what's just around the next corner in life.

So, I think I'll be brief this morning. A few things I'd like to get done before les chiens (Winnie & Jake) & I head out for the beach. I'm a girl with a very messy desk and I want to come home and begin working on this project with a clean organized work space. Tidy the kitchen a bit, throw a load of laundry in, peel Lady Baltimore a grape or two ... all that jazz.

bird watching

sunrise along the seawall and boarded up cottages at the beach where we walked on all those car-less mornings

I have a female Baltimore Oriole at my bird feeders. Hung on the branches of my double mock orange bush, just outside my kitchen window I have a tube of black sunflower seeds, a big suet cage and a Niger seed feeder. I spied her a few days ago, and her citrus colour belly was what attracted my attention. I thought to myself "what is that bird?". After studying my Peterson's bird guide I identified her. Apparently she shouldn't really still be here, she should be winging her way to South America for the winter and to help her make it through our cold winter's she'll need lots of suet, and sunflower seeds, water daily (apparently water is especially important to this bird) and come to find out she's particularly fond of red grapes. I can't wait stop to pick her up some grapes in our way home from the beach this morning.

Miss Lady Baltimore

I think bird watching is an age thing, it seems you cross over some imaginary age line in life and suddenly you become fascinated with watching birds. That's how it seemed to happen with me ... and several of my friends as well, come to think of it. My two outside cats, Lulu & Bleet, thankfully, are both past the hunting birds phase in their lives and I'm able to feed the birds all year round now. In summer I often park my chair outside in the back yard with my glass of ice tea, mini binoculars and sit and watch and stare at the birds at the feeders and water bath for endless amounts of time. It's like a tranquilizer, like a sitting meditation.

With my small selection of bird treats I see daily in these cold months

-chickadees
-gold finches
-purple finches
-assorted sparrows
-blue jays
-a downy woodpecker
-a hairy woodpecker (usually shy -not a regular at feeders)
-nuthatches
-mourning doves
-and now Miss Lady Baltimore

and occasionally large flocks of grosbeaks & starlings (the poor homely birds)

9:14 am - am happy to report that Lady Baltimore began feasting on her red grapes, literally, moments after I put them out for. She also has a dish of water and I cut up an orange and an apple for her ... maybe she likes a variety of fruit ?