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a new fort

We used to have a trampoline in our backyard.  But as you can see from this photo, it has seen better days. This particular trampoline is what would currently be charmingly classified as "vintage". Though it might more accurately be referred to as a "death trap." My Dad installed it in our backyard when I was but a wee girl, and had the brilliant and literally groundbreaking idea of digging a hole and making it flush with the lawn. The better for us not to injure ourselves on it my dear. And it was a very good idea. There were no falling off the trampoline accidents in our back yard thankyouverymuch! This was all in the olden days mind you, before the advent of fancy net-surrounded, spring-free trampolines. Ah yes, we were the last generation that was free to take the exhilarating risk of injuring ourselves while at play. The good old days.... But sadly (or not) those days are no more. And we thought about refurbishing our in-ground trampoline. It was an excellent back yard amusement. Cheaper than a pool, (and possibly safer, even with the exposed springs and metal edges) and just a fun. But upon considering the considerable expense of replacing the springs, the matt and buying safety pads to go around it, we decided that perhaps it was time to pack in the trampoline. It had a good 30 year run, and it was time to move on... ...to an in-ground fort!

Hubs, being both handy and thrifty, has masterminded this project. The materials were salvaged from some industrial crates he found in a nearby parking lot last year. Those triangular cut-outs were already there, and are proving to be the most popular feature of the fort so far, as they make it climb-able. 

And who doesn't like to climb?

Those leaves will eventually be raked out of there, and there is talk of flooring and a small stove (!) so that it can be a winter fort. But for now there is much jumping into leaves. And then much picking slugs off your jacket. Ah, nature. 

While Hubs and the boys were working on this, Grandpa was busy bombing around the valley in his skid steer, doing a little last bit of landscaping before the frost really sets in. 

The Little Guy called him away from his work to show him the fort, and then called him away from the fort to inspect the machinery. 

L.D. and Hubs were still hard at work. Its not done yet, but there is talk of tarps and wind-proofing. I'll keep you posted. And perhaps someday we'll be able to sit in our cozy underground fort enjoying hot cocoa while the wind and snow blow outside. 

 

stash

From the title you'd think this will be a post about all the yarn I've collected over the years or perhaps my fabric hoarding tendencies. But no, I discovered a different sort of a stash the other day. 

I went looking for a random bit of cutlery and could not find it anywhere, so I decided to look in the no-man's land under the regular cutlery drawer, and LOOK what I found! I did wonder last week where all my almonds had got to. I went to chop some up to put on a salad and was surprised to find that there were only a few left in what I thought had been a full bag. But now the mystery is solved. There were not eaten (at least not by me) but rather had been, erm, transported. 

And I'm hardly surprised to think that we have mice. Its one of the facts of life if you live in the country. Mice are pretty much inevitable, and if are careful about how you store food are not much bother. But this seems like very un-mouselike behaviour to me. This sort of stash makes me think we have a chipmunk in the house, or (heaven forbid) a squirrel!

Now I like a squirrel as much as the next girl, but I prefer to view them from the other side of the window. I did once, very briefly, have a pet squirrel, or rather a squirrel foundling who I had rescued from certain death and nursed back to health so that I could release him back to the wilds of the city I lived in at the time. He was just a baby, fallen from his nest and abandoned. So I took him home and fed him and kept him safe, and named him Francis and let him sit on my shoulder while I worked. He was a lovely little pet for the three days that we had him. And though he was very, very cute, he left us with a very, very extensive case of fleas. Yeah. It was a ridiculous amount of work to get rid of them (stripping and cleaning every bit of textile and upholstery in the apartment) and that was in a much smaller space than we live in currently. Not to mention that having flea bites sucks. 

So I'm just saying, I hope its not a squirrel. Inside. 

We threw all the nuts out onto the snow covered balcony where they were eventually discovered by a lovely wild squirrel who perched out there, just inches from the Boys' fascinated faces pressed up against the glass, frantically stuffing his cheeks as though he was sure it would all disappear in a moment. Very rewarding for everybody. Just so long as he stays outside.

cigitar

That's what our Little Guy calls this awesome thing: He can't quite get the words "cigar box guitar" out in that order. Its kind of a tongue twister when you're two-almost-three-years-old. 

 There was strumming. And singing. Oh the singing these days! It is so sweet. He sat in the back of the car the other day composing the most adorable song to let GranGran know how much he loved her. (its kind of like hearing a tinier, cuter version of Will Ferrell as Buddy the Elf) Of course, he refused to actually sing it to Gran when we got to her house. But I sure did enjoy it. 

With a bit of encouragement from Hubs he worked on his demeanour a bit, so he could be a bit more rock and roll. Yeah, that's his sneer. 

The details on this lovely little instrument is that Hubs made it. Most Cigar Box Guitars are made from actual cigar boxes, but any kind of box will do so in this instance Hubs used a hinged wooden box I bought for him at a dollar store. He used a laser cutter to cut out the little fish detail on the front, and stainted it a bluish greeneish colour. If you are interested a better breakdown of what a CBG is, or in making one yourself, there is a good tutorial for making Cigar Box Guitars at the Make Magazine site.

And since the Little Guy knew that his Daddy made this "cigitar box" he decided to make one himself.  So he hauled out a box from the closet in his brother's room and found a piece of chalk...

...and drew on some strings so he had himself his own guitar. Because when you are two-almost-three-years-old there is nothing you can't make for yourself with paper and cardboard. (though do note that if you try this at home, the actual cigar box guitar has a much nicer sound than the one made with a box and some chalk. Just sayin')

I'll take what's behind door number three

Or rather, what's in box number one.
But that's wasn't as catchy a title. So, here's the story. You know that Hubs and I are both big thrifters/second hand buyers/scroungers/garbage pickers, right? So he stopped by the e-waste bin at the end of our road today, (for those of you who don't know, e-waste bins are where people can dispose of their old broken phones/computers/whatevers that might be toxic, for safe disposal. So obviously it is a repository for cool junk, though it often gets used as a random dumping place for anything that has to be plugged in. Lots of microwaves.) because he saw some promising looking overflow. He came home and told me about this mystery bin. So I wandered over there with my friend Laura and look what we found:

Can you believe that? Its like someone's childhood all crammed into one box.

And that childhood clearly happend during the 80's.

I probably am not going to keep all of these. I'll comb through them when I have some time and find what is of most interest/has the best play value. But I think it'll be fun to walk down memory lane along the way. I'll post some of the cooler/more obscure things I find next week. 

foraging

Green things are starting to come up in this brown spring time world.

So we headed out into the woods to find something a little extra for dinner.

We took baskets with us to make things easier to carry.

There were flowers to be found along the way.The Dogtooth Violets are starting to bloom. 

And I got very excited to see a Trillium. I always think of them as rare and special.

Ok, maybe they're not so rare.

As you already know, from what the Baby told me yesterday we were on our way to Fern Gully, one of our special places in the forest behind the house.Fern Gully even has a door.

Which adds to the magic, and the fun.

Look at that intredpid little adventurer!

And here's what we are looking for. Fiddlehead sprouts!

We picked them...

...and put them in our baskets. 

Aren't they just the prettiest things? I love how green they are, and how everything else is so brown. They are oddly otherwordly. Like the food fairies would eat. 

And there were TONS of them. Hubs said that according to the rules of foraging we should only take 20%. We didn't get anywhere near to that number. 

Everywhere we looked there were little bits of green, holding the promise of more to come.Its such a beautiful time of year, with these tiny little buds on all the branches and a world full of potential.

Ok, quick side note. I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to get a few nice pictures of me and the boys. I find myself in the usual situation of the phtographer-mom in that there are no pictures OF me because I am busy taking all of the pictures. So since Hubs was with us, I sat down under tree, gathered up my boys and smiled for the camera.I include the above photo, not because its a good one, (I have slitty eyes and L.D. is being a goof) but because it shows how snugly I was pressed up against that tree. 

Hubs snapped away....

...and eventually we got a few good ones. The boys ran out of patience and we decided to head back to the house. Then I stood up and looked back down at the base of the tree and saw this:Little red ants. Swarming all over the place! Hubs proceeded to rush over and do his best to brush them off me. But not before I got a few good bites. Dang, do those things hurt! Just a little pinch at first by then they throb and burn like nobody's business. You can really feel the venom. It was a brief flurry of panic as Hubs hunted under my layers and tried to de-ant me, and I wasn't too worried, but you know who was? The Little Dude. He watched the proceedings with great anxiety, shouting "There's one Dad! Get it! Get it! GET IT OFF MOMMMYYYY!" and started to wail when he felt that Hubs had not successfully gotten rid of an ant that he thought had crawled up under my shirt. Poor Guy. He was quite beside himself. "Its ok Buddy," I soothed, "Why are you so upset? I'm fine, I promise." "Because its gonna biiiiiiiiite yoooooouuuuuu!" he howled. He was so worked up. But when he saw that I was ok, and I assured him that I had not been hurt too much by the bites he did calm down. But still, it was quite a moment. 

He was back to his old tricks in a few moments, smiling and chatting, until I turned the camera on him. at which point he refused to smile for me at all, doing his best scowl in my direction. Oh, I see his future surly teenager face in there for sure....

...ah but he can't keep his smile from me forever!

And that Baby is full of smiles, even though most of them involve him sticking his tongue out (a trick he learned from his brudda)

Anyhow, we finally got those fiddleheads home where we could cook 'em. Hubs peeled the papery brown bits off them, and I blanched them in boiling salted water for 10 minutes, as the internet told me to. The water turned an alarming shade of reddish brown, but I had been warned about that, so I carried on.

Here they are all cooked up.

And here they are on our pizza! Along with leeks, tomatos, sausage, mushrooms and goat cheese.
And said pizza was enjoyed with great gusto...

...by all. Nom. They tasted sort of alike asperagus, but not quite so stong, and a bit more earthy. The Little Dude ate all of his and the Baby ate about half. Normally something this vegtable-y would probably get rejected, or require some cajoling, but there's nothing like having gone on an adventure to get your food to make that food even more appealing that usual. Basically I should go out into the forest and hide all the vegetables I want them to eat, and then would could 'forage' for something new every day! Hm, maybe not such a bad idea....

better than flowers

Hubs picked up a little gift for me on the way home from work.  You know that a man really 'gets' you when he cannot drive by the three boxes left on the side of the road marked "FREE SEWING MAGS". What a sweet guy. 

I haven't had time to really look them over yet, so I don't know if their contents will be useful to me, but I just love seeing how they are organized and were kept by their previous owner. I like this woman already. 

Not only did she regulary purchase at least six different quilting periodicals, she also kept them very neatly filed in home made magazine boxes, cut from recycled material. 

What I know about her: She like quilting. She kept her whites white, she had a dog (note the Milk-Bone box, second from the right)....

...and she was probably also an Avon lady. 

I'm going to try and set aside a little time this weekend to page through them. They are not really old (40's/50's/60's which I like) but just sort of recently old (70's and 80's, not as promising) and were produced in a pretty low budget way, clearly from before the current quilting boom has hit. They are mostly printed on a soft manilla type paper, with very few colour pictures. So how many I'll actually keep remains to be seen. 

But for now I'm just enjoying them as a collection, with warm thoughts towards their previous owner, who was crafty and thifty and appreciated clean laundry. I think we have a lot in common. 

home improvements

I've probably mentioned before that since we don't own this house, we haven't put in a lot of time and effort into making changes to it. And it used to be my parent's house, which they kept very nicely, but also, is filled with their taste and their choices. So we try to find little ways to make it our own, but without spending too much money or time. We've repainted a few rooms and put up some new curtains, but much of it remains as it always has been. 

But this past weekend we finally got around to doing a small project that I've had on my list for some time now. If you read this blog often you also know that I am a collector of lovely vintage things. However, I walk the fine line between collecting and hoarding because I'm not very good as displaying all the great vintage finds I collect. They get added to the piles or the boxes labled "vintage table clothes: embroidered" and "vintage table clothes: printed". We had to re-arrange the boxes last week because we were trying to find stuff and I noticed how many boxes I have labled "vintage books". I love vintage books. Obviously. I collect old school readers, and old how-to manuals and old medical books. It made me sad that I had all this great stuff and never saw it. I was also at the library the other day paging through some random glossy home-dec magazine and I was feeling jealous about how lovely all these other people's homes were (I consoled myself with the thought that clearly they did not have small children, and if they did they could obviously afford 'help' in the form of cooks and cleaners and decorators). And as I read the tips I noticed over and over again how the decor experts exhorted people to seek out clever, one-of-a-kind flea market finds in order to personalize their decor. And of course I occured to me that I am sitting on, like, the motherlode of clever, one-of-a-kind flea market finds. And that I should quit feeling jealous and do something about it. Because boxes of lovely old things just feel like wasted potential. I should have all these things out in the light where I can enjoy them. 

Of course, the problem is the two sets of ten sticky little fingers that would love to schmeer themselves all over my clever, one-of-a-kind flea market finds. So I had to find a way to put stuff on display without putting them in the line of smearage, as it were. I decided that book rails were the best possible plan. That way we can change the items on it regularly and they can be on view but also up out of harms way. 

So we spent a couple of nap times making it happen. We decided on using the dining room/front room/play room as the place for it. You see it when you walk in the door so it can set the tone for the house, and also, we spend a lot of time there. And it was the biggest stretch of wall that did not have a piece of furniture or a window obscuring it. Here it is before: We'd sort of 'wall papered' the space with two large drawings that one of our MFA classmates had done (Ian Campbell if you are wondering). But they had to come down. We've relocated them to the living room. Then there was the issue of the actual wall paper. I'm not a huge wall paper fan. I mean, there are some lovely, innovative things happening in the world of wall paper right now, but the choice may parents made for this room probably a decade or so ago, is not one of them.

My Dad and I have a running argument about home decor. He feels that neutrality, especially in transitional spaces, is something to strive for. I don't necessarily disagree, but his idea of neutral is a pale yellow I like to call 'eldercare beige' and my idea of neutrality is white. So this slightly textured beige wall paper is way to 'meh' for me, but just right for him.  Its a good thing he doesn't live here anymore, because that wall paper is coming down!

The Little Dude was so helpful. I cannot tell you how much glee he took in tearing off large swaths of wall paper. He enjoyed it almost as much as we did!

We'd had plans to paint the wall white once the wall paper was down, but upon discovering that the wall underneath was very nicely painted a rather pleasing shade of vintage-y green, we decided to forgo the effort and cost of paint and just clean up the wall really, really well. Its funny, I only vaguely remember this paint colour from my childhood. Which makes me wonder how much of our surroundings the Little Dude and the Baby are taking in. 

Eventually the fun exciting part of stripping wall paper was done and we were down to the boring tedious part of cleaning the wall, so I was glad that I had prepared a little painting activity for L.D. to do at the table behind us while we got on with the work. 

Hubs built our book railings/aka picture rails/aka skinny little shelves with some stuff he bought at the hardware store. This is not a 'how to' so I'm not going to go into the details and it mostly happened out in the garage while I was busy washing the walls and distracting a pre-schooler. We got the wall finished and the shelves done during the Baby's nap time, but waited till he was awake to screw them to the wall (because drills are really loud). And I forgot to take pictures of the installation. But they went up on the wall just after dinner, and pretty much as soon as the Little Dude laid eyes on them, he knew what they were for.

Obviously, they are little train shelves for Thomas the Tank Engine and friends. We let him play it like that for the rest of the evening, and as soon as the boys went to sleep, we did some last finishing touches with the paint and then let them dry over night. And in the morning, I got out my six boxes marked "vintage books" and had at it. 

Et voia! Our display wall.

Going through all the boxes and choosing what to put on the shelves was really fun. Like rediscovering treasure. But it was also hard to choose. I just put up a general selection this time, but I think in the future I will pick themes (things that are red, children's books, graphic impact, etc.) and build the display around that. Also, it works for books and artwork and the kid's paintings and record albums and all sorts of fun things. Doing this also made me realize that I am not as good at arranging things as I'd like to be. It made me wish that some of my Montreal friends lived near by, so I could have them come over and make a display for me (I'm looking in your direction jake.m).

Its so nice to see some of my favourite old things though. This book cover makes me so happy. 

And the design on this old box blows my mind every time I see it. 

Another favourite book cover, and so appropriate as I'm constantly surrounded by little people who are daily gaining skill with words. 

The Little Dude is pointing up at his favourite, the picture he made for me with heart-shaped sponge stamps while I was stripping the wall paper the day before. "It says 'I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." he says, counting the hearts. (you can see it on the top shelf in the picture of the full wall).

Not bad for something we did for almost no money over the course of two naptimes on the weekend. 

 

quilted baby jackets

For someone who sews, its kind of funny how little sewing I do for my kids. Because you see, I also work in retail and what with the discount and my thrifting addiction, there are so many beautiful ready-made children's clothes that I kind of don't need to sew for them. Of course, I know that most of the people who do sew for their kids these days don't need to, strictly speaking. But honestly, clothes sometimes just appear in our house out of nowhere (thank you magic hand-me-down bags!) so we are literally awash in lovely clothes. And my meagre spare time is generally earmarked for quilting or art-making anyhow. And the boys do get the occasional mama-made sweater, so its not like I never make them anything. But I was just sort of mentally tut-tutting at myself over the lack of adorable quirky hand-sewn clothes in the Baby's wardrobe when I stumbled on the most wonderful items at the local Value Village.
I have a pretty good eye for the unusual, if I do say so myself, and can just quickly scan down a rack as I troll the aisles and can quite quickly identify the handmade or vintage items amidst all the mall cast-off dreck. And these two little beauties literally leapt off the rack from almost half the store away. They looked so different from all that was around them, I just had to go in for a closer look. 

Though it was obvious they were handmade, upon closer inspection I could see they were in fact hand-sewn, which is another thing entirely. You wouldn't believe the amazing button holes on this one. I'm actually having a hard time figuring our how they were done so neatly. And they've got this simple quilting, with a very short stitch on the front and a very long stitch on the inside. Really interesting. 

The styling and the exterior fabric choices have a very Asian feel to me, and you know how I'm a sucker for anything blue and white. But what really gets me are the linings. 

The mishmash-y way that they don't really go, but were chosen instead because they were warm, soft flannels and would feel good against the baby's skin, and keep him or her warm. Or perhaps, they were made on a deadline (the baby will be here soon!) and the fabrics were what was on hand. Or possibly, they were chosen out of necessity, as thrift was of the essence. Who knows. That is what always draws me the most when I find a vintage item. The fact that this fabric was lived in by someone else, who had a life entirely separate from mine, a life that I can never know, but can only imagine. And of course, whenever I find and purchase a second-hand, hand-made item, I feel that I can honour the love and labour that was put into that garment by the original maker, but letting that item continue to have use in my life and the lives of my children. And so, I feel connected to the woman who once spent her evenings carefully putting the stitches into these little jackets. She reaches forward through the lives of her child or grandchildren and now gently lays her hands into the lives of mine. 

Because really, how sweet it that? You see how it comes to life on our Baby? (though you must excuse the less than stellar pictures. Taken in the ugly corner of the kitchen, with bad lighting in the ten minutes before dinner was ready, in between the chopping and the stirring with a less than co-operative model who kept running over to me to look at the picture on the back of the camera. Sigh, I suppose he's a child of the digital age. Anyhow, definitely not my best effort. But it was a very busy day, with no time for a proper photo shoot, so we make do where we have to.) 

He's not entirely sure about it.... And I will admit its a little tight and short. He sort of looks like a small, sweet blue and white sausage. Cutest sausage ever though, am I right?

Ah but that's better! Now that's a fit. This will be such a perfect little fall coat for running and playing outdoors when the air begins to turn crisp (not that I'm done with summer yet... we still have a few more weeks, right?

Birthday Party! Part Two: the clown

*Note: All photos taken by Farihah Shah

Oh, and by the by, Happy Canada day to you. Hope you had a nice, relaxing day; spent time with friends, family, ate some good stuff, enjoyed the sun, saw some fireworks maybe. We kept it low-key and enjoyed our quiet patriotism with the Little Dude randomly wishing us "happy Canada" and making up his own version of the National Anthem from time to time. Just the way I like it.

Anyhow, on to more party recap. I know, this is going to take a couple of days. But really, there were so many good pictures and I don't want to make a ridiculous long post with, like, 47 images in it, so I'm going to keep breaking it up over a couple of days. Editing has never been my strong point (she says, making the understatement of the decade) so I think that breaking it down into bite sized bits is going to be the best solution. Also, I've got the first season of the Wallander series out of the library and they are fantastic, so I've been spending a bit of time in the evenings watching those (if you like Sweden, crime drama, or Kenneth Brannagh, I totally recommend it).

So, all I'm going to post today are the pictures of one of the games. Since its summer and we're in a nice hot spell, I decided to do a lot of games with water. One that was a big hit was... The Clown Sponge Toss. Basically, a giant clown cut-out that you throw wetted sponges at. But the best part of it is... ...someone's face is looking out of that clown head and just begging to be hit with a wet sponge! 

Its so funny, we've had this giant clown painted on a piece of board sitting in our garage for, oh, I don't know, at least twenty years? When I was a little girl my dad or someone had this made up for a big fundraiser picnic they were doing for some charity or another. And when all it said and done, what do you do with a seven foot tall pice of wood paneling with a clown painted on it? You save it, that's what. So for years its been in the back of the garage with the camping gear and lawn mower. And when we decided on the country fair theme for the party I'd thought to myself "It'd be nice to have a clown maybe". But I was trying not to go crazy with it all, and sometimes real live party clowns can be creepy/tiresome (no offense to any clowns out there, its me, not you) but then I remembered this thing in the garage and it could not have worked better. The kids went crazy for it, swarming around poor hubs like a brightly coloured preschooler gang bent on his soaking. Their glee was palpable. 

And it wasn't personal. When Grandpapa got it there they were just as excited to hit him (if not more so). Of course, Grandpapa hams it up really well, threatening then not to hit him and then mugging like crazy when they do. They just ate it up. 

See, there is a definite benefit to saving something for a quarter of a century or so. Because you never know when a life sized clown cut out will come in handy.

large garbage day

I know this may seem unusual to some of you, but those three words make me happy. Not because I have so much large garbage to get rid of (though Hubs has TONS) but because our municipalities semi-annual Large Garbage Pickup Day is sort of like a treasure hunt for me. (and I know there are enough of my fellow garbage pickers/thrifters/junk hounds/cheapskates out there reading this that I don't have to feel too apologetic about it)

Because you can't just put a couch out on the side of the road around here in Small Town Ontario any time you like, as they do in Montreal. No sir, people around here gotta wait to dump an old beauty like this.

Though the official pickup was not until Tuesday night, large piles of unwieldy junk were already showing up on people's curbs on the weekend. 

And so, on Sunday afternoon (even though it was raining), Hubs and I packed the boys into the car, emptied the trunk, grabbed the camera and headed out for a tour of the local subdivisions. 

Hubs picked himself up a few things, a weed whacker, (for parts to fix his other broken picked-up-at-the-roadside weed whacker, don't even ask me how loudly I sighed and rolled my eyes at that one!), some random storage boxes and workshop-y things etc.

I myself did not pick up anything, because I was on the hunt for couches to take pictures of. For example, I would not drive by a scene like this one...

...without stopping to check out and admire the lovely mix of colours and patterns. 

I'm not even sure exactly what it is about this mish-mash of florals in these particular hues that makes me happy. (Blue mattresses and orangey-green couches. Check and check) But somehow, awhile back I started to take pictures of abandoned couches and now its sort of a collecting habit with me, and you know how that goes. At least I don't bring the actual couches home with me. Pictures are enough.

There is something about these rejected couches and used up mattresses that is melancholy and nostalgic and sadly humorous and gross all that the same time. A sort of abject sentimentality that I just have to stop and admire for a moment. 

This lovely one was to be found in one of the older neighborhoods in our little town. I like to hit a good mix of housing eras when looking for treasure/junk/images. One part postwar, one part eighties boom, one part newest-development-in-town. You usually get several quite different strata of junk, though there are always exceptions. 

And eventually the rain ended, though the puddles remained. Our trunk was full of Hubs' new finds, and my memory card was full of pictures. And the patient little boys in the back seat had paged through all their books and eaten all their snacks and it was time to take them home for naps. It won't be the last time they drive around to look at junk with us, that's for sure.