Baby Alert

The baby is always the star of the show.

Sunny and Cold

There were sundogs yesterday; thought they meant the weather was to change.

It still seems plenty cold out there, but the kittens were sunning themselves this morning so it can't be so bad:

My uncle Neil is coming to pick up Emil and me to spend the afternoon at his place. Two of my cousins are going to be there with their kids, and I haven't licensed my minivan since the plates ran out last month. Thought I could get away without it for a while, considering Scott has two vehicles; however, his work truck has broken down and the other one is never available, so it looks like I'll be off to the Saskatchewan Government Insurance office one of these days to lay down my cash.

 It's not that I've felt stranded; I don't often go anywhere other than my weekly run to town for groceries, laundry, and Emil, and I'm just as happy to stay home, to be honest. Nevertheless, in spite of letting the laundry pile up so I didn't need to take it in, I've relied on Scott to stop at the store when he's near it, and to bring Emil out on Fridays and take him back on Sundays for the past month, and this cannot continue.

In other news, my cousin Oscar has had his final c.t. scan after the past year of interfuron followup treatment after his surgery for melanoma, and the chemo and radiation he endured, and he is cancer free. Yippee!!!! He and his family have been through a year from hell. Even so, he is one of the lucky ones.

Thirty Below = a Balmy -22F

Brekky, complete with vities

A hearty oatmeal breakfast with black coffee should fuel me up for a walk in this weather. Right?
(By the way, that's whole flax in the oatmeal, not ants; but it could be ants if I had the nerve to eat insects, because I'm catch-and-releasing about two off the kitchen counter every day. And feeling guilty about throwing them outside to freeze; but squishing them is something I can't do, it would give me the heebie-jeebies. Out they go, after being caught under an overturned glass, with a postcard slid under the opening, because what else am I gonna do, let 'em run riot in the house for the rest of the winter?)

1pm
Just sitting down to work for the afternoon, but here's a photo my sister Karen sent moments ago, taken from her kitchen window:

Click to enlarge. Great horned owl?

She doesn't dare let either of her two little Yorkies outside to do their business!

Slip of the Tongue

Emil and I went for supper together before I dropped him off on Sunday

The other day I received one of those joke/forward emails that listed anecdotes about times people have been embarrassed by things they or their kids have said. Which reminded me:

Last summer when I picked Emil up from Camp Easter Seal at Manitou Beach I stopped at this little café on the main street where I always hope to get a slice of their to-die-for pecan pie. They had run out of it and suggested I return the following week, so I replied "Oh, I only come once a year!"

Yeah. We all pretended they weren't thinking "Oh, you poor girl."

Can't Win fer Losin'

A bolt and a blowout. This tire was going, one way or the other. I was a mile from home when it did.

Is the universe trying to tell me something?

I swear, in recent years I've had a flat tire every other week. This one was on my mother-in-law's vehicle, which I was driving.

Through the Office Window

5pm
The dog is barking right behind the house and I hop up on the single bed behind my desk to look out the window, letting my eyes follow in the direction Jenna's nose is pointing. The most beautiful coyote is standing in the trees next to my flower garden, and I, thrilled, turn away to reach for the camera. By the time I'm back at the window, only seconds later, Jenna Doodle has entered the bush after the coyote, and instead of running it comes after her! Only my voice hollering through the hurriedly opened window — "You get out of here! GIT!" — scares it off, and it trots through the trees, toward the road, and is out of sight. Jenna is still barking 15 minutes later, pissed off at the coyote's audacity, though the intruder is no longer visible to me.
Ooh the excitement!
Obviously when she's barking, there's a good reason, though we don't always get to see what it is. It happens every night; I guess the coyotes are here, hoping to catch one of our cats hunting in trees around the yard. We haven't seen the mother cat for a few weeks now, nor a particular one of her kittens in recent days even though they usually stick close to the safety of the tractor shed. Darn it. And heaven forbid a fox or coyote nabs Ducky Doodle if he runs out to the road at night, let out to do his before-bed business, thinking he's a fierce big fella. Guess I'll have to slip into my boots and go out at the same time; if I wait on the step, he's unlikely to go far.

Meditation Changes Your Mind

Handy little chair I picked up for $1 at a garage sale last summer

Sure, I'm the only one who sits on it to put my boots on. For anyone taller, it's too close to the ground. It's also light and easy to move around, but good and solid.

*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,*:-.,_,.

One day last week I tucked Aunt Jean's transistor radio into the pocket of my jacket when I went walking. Quirks and Quarks was on — it's a science program on CBC — and they were having a segment called "Your Brain on Meditation" that I wanted to hear.

They've finally done enough scientific study to prove what the gurus have been telling us for many years: meditation helps fight depression, stress, addictions, and may even help us avoid such brain diseases as Alzheimer's. Meditation physically changes your brain, and the effects of such change are not restricted to the moments spent in actual meditation. The change is long-lasting.

Also, meditation doesn't require hours of chanting while sitting cross-legged on the floor. It can be as simple as sitting quietly and focusing on your breathing for just a few minutes a day.

You can listen to the show by clicking here: Your Brain on Meditation.

Sad Snow Situation

Shadows of me and dogs 

(Dad, you were asking how much snow we've got.)

The birds are already displaying courtship behaviour, which is when they flit around showing off to each other and don't notice there's a window in their way.

Gorgeous days for walking, though.

The RM has made these snow ridges in the field to help keep the roads from blowing in. Not that there's been any danger of that so far this winter.

It's nearly one o'clock. Perhaps I should get dressed and think about what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. Have polished off several cups of black coffee and eaten toast with peanut butter. Emil slept in, too, and had a bowl or two of puffed wheat cereal for brunch. An hour ago Scott headed up north with his parents to visit his sister near Flin Flon so it's just me and my boy, who says he's happy to get me all to himself for a change. As if the two of us aren't usually here alone while Scott's off working somewhere, even on the weekends.

I was up late last night, watching TV. There was a one-hour program called A History of Scotland, and then I watched Marketplace, and then a Hercules Poirot mystery.

There's no Scottish blood in my ancestry that I'm aware of, but I still find myself drawn to the history of Scotland, as I am to that of England and Ireland. Perhaps there is Scots somewhere in the genes from way far back; who knows, right? You never really do. The gene pool we know of on both sides of my family contains English, Irish, Norwegian and Swedish. But you can never know for certain who else may have contributed way back in the generations and where they came from. And then there's reincarnation and unconscious memories from other lifetimes. Anything's possible.

Last night's Marketplace was about misleading labelling of food in the grocery stores here in Canada. None of it surprised me much; I already know that if I want to eat decently, I have to start from scratch in my own kitchen. For a long time I've walked down the aisles of the store in town and -- well -- not bothered. Cookies? I make my own or do without. Cereal? Make my own or buy only puffed wheat; most everything else, except maybe Muffets, is chockful of sugar and godknowswhatelse. Bread? I make my own. Juice? I buy fresh fruit instead, except for orange juice, because oranges are such a pain in the ass to eat. Meat? Scott raises his own beef and poultry and buys pork directly from a farmer. Flavoured yogurt? No more; it's full of sugar. Frozen french fries or pizza? Nope, make my own. Not that I "never" buy any of the above, but now it's only when weakness gets the best of me.

All of which requires more time in the kitchen, and I don't want to spend half my day feeding us, but there's no doubt that simple, plain homemade food is the best way to go. Now I only wish I had someone to cook for me, because I'm not all that interested in food, to be honest. I can pretty much live on toast, granola, and the odd egg.

As for the Poirot mystery, I knew who the murderers were right from the beginning, but still enjoyed watching him figure it out.

Shit Saskatchewanians Say

Only a few differences stand out ...  at my house we like Pilsner beer but don't buy it any longer because the brewery moved to Alberta. We now drink Great Western because it's the only beer made in Saskatchewan. We like to support local business as we're able.

And I don't give a shit about hockey or football.

The rest, though, is right on the money.

Food

Cooling

Ten minutes till my working day begins, and the oatmeal mixture above (oatmeal, vegetable water saved and frozen for breadmaking, salt, molasses and oil), is still too hot to mix with flour and yeast. Usually I cook the oatmeal the night before, then add warm water in the morning so the oatmeal's the  perfect temperature to add to the dry ingredients (yeast is like Goldilocks; fussy). I forget why I did things differently this time. It happens.

Last night I riffed on the recipe below for supper. I thought it was pretty tasty, but Scott took one look (and maybe a sample, not sure) and reheated some leftovers for himself.

Hoo's Hot Black Beans with Linguini

Sauté two cloves of garlic and one small finely
chopped onion in olive oil for five minutes.

Put on water to make one normal sized package of whole
wheat linguini. Start the linguini.

Add one can of black beans to the onion and garlic.
Salt and pepper to taste. Put the liquid from the
beans in the pan too.

Allow beans to cook down for 5-10 minutes (however
long it takes the linguini to cook).

Drain the linguini, toss in the beans with the pasta.
Serve with Frank's Hot Sauce.

January Down on the Farm

Still problems with sewage system ...  

the walk

late afternoon from the tractor shed (where the cats live)

pretty, isn't it. and so peaceful.

can't go wrong with flowers. they make me happy.




On this day one year ago, I had pulled out my quilt in hopes of getting it finished. I have not succeeded. It's been folded and sat on a sewing basket since spring.

Come along on a trip down Memory Lane?


Jan 2010

Guess I disappeared from the planet in January 2009.

Jan 2008

Jan 2007

Jan 2006

Jan 2005

Jan 2004

Jan 2003

Babette

Babette

Lovely Lilac Tree in Winter

The most sweet-scented lilac bush, by the back step.

Homegrown Gal

Listen to her music here.

Belle Plaine's first CD was released yesterday.

Melanie Hankewich grew up near Fosston (about a half-hour north of here) and performed for a house concert in Wadena last year. Shadow House Concerts had secured the Good Luck Diner for a venue, and a few music lovers managed to squeeze in around Melanie's local family and friends who'd driven down for the evening's entertainment. Her bass player and a piano man accompanied her, and they too have connections in the area, so the place was packed.

We dined on delicacies smorgasbord-style, then tapped our toes while Melanie's sweet voice out-sugared the dessert.

http://www.belleplainemusic.com/

Music-loving Bird

If you're not a bluegrass fan (what's the matter with you?), stick it out anyway till around the three-minute mark for proof of my theory that birds appreciate our music as much as we love theirs.

Thanks to Marilyn at Nag on the Lake for bringing this video to my attention.

College Boy

Email from Gord, Everett's dad:
College Boy; see attached.

Return email:
Awwwww... he's so cute....
first haircut since August?
K.

Email from Gord:
Well about a week ago he cut his own hair . Looked like a total doufus. I should've taken a picture . You would have died laughing. So when I suggested to take him for a cut today there was no hesitation. Shoes and coat on in record time.

Email from Everett:
You asked about my classes a while ago, so here is me finally giving you a list of what I'm taking this semester.

Video Production Techniques
Cinematography
Visual Design Development
Audio Production Technology
Organizational Behaviour
Production Planning Process

Six classes. That is three less than I started off with in the first semester. It's going fine for the moment. Sorry I was late telling you about it, but I have work to do in between leisurely activities. Er, I mean, I have fun things to do in between doing work. Yeah, that's it.

-Everett-

Canine Courtship

Loverboy wears his courtin' coat

Jenna Doodle, 10 years old, not spayed, has never had pups or been pregnant, and appears to be in heat again. Let us hope she continues to remain infertile and that, in the event of a miracle, no male dogs wander over; pups, we don't need.

Ducky Doodle, who has been neutered, is serious about making whoopee with her anyway. He is keeping a close eye on her and currying her favour. Nothing can come of it, thank dog.

The photo above was taken several days ago, when the mercury was very low, maybe 30 below. Ducky was cold but didn't want to go inside.

Then yesterday I donned my ski pants, balaclava and layers of warm clothing, as I'd been doing for the past week, and set out down the road. Before I'd gone 10 minutes it was necessary to whip off the balaclava, unzip the jacket and remove my mitts. It's like spring. There's been rain.

Giving Thanks

An uplifting music video by Tamara Podemski, the younger sister of Canadian actor Jennifer Podemski. Jennifer appears in Sarah Polley's film Take This Waltz and has been in all kinds of stuff. Remember her in Moccasin Flats and The Rez?

Tamara is in a location where there is so much poverty and struggle, yet she appreciates the tree and the friendly faces and the plain old joy of walking down the street feeling great.

103-yr-old Lady and Bold Fox

103 candles would've set off the smoke alarm

After a nice visit and potluck supper at Scott's grandmother's with his immediate family, we swung back to Wadena to take Emil to the group home for his week's work. While passing the Co-op service station on the busiest corner in town, Scott spotted a red fox between the gas pumps and the front doors; it was stood looking through the glass at the people inside. Because of the darkness and distance I was unable to get a decent photo, but we did drive closer and watch it eat something it found in the parking lot next to the building before our approach finally scared it off.

It's not that unusual to see wild animals in town; we hear reports of deer and coyotes, and Emil and I were once close up to a moose (man they've got long legs!). But this little guy's moxie was a bit unnerving, mostly because rabid animals are brave this way, thus possibly dangerous.

Whipped Shortbread

Before

Yesterday I made a batch of whole wheat cake doughnuts. Not many left, as you can see. I had two for breakfast, with my coffee. They're 75% healthy, if you don't count the oil they were fried in. Right? Oh, all right, but once in a blue moon ... anything's allowed.

Scott is going to see his friend Floyd tomorrow. Floyd lives in a nursing home in Yorkton; they've been buddies since their high school days. Last time I took whipped shortbread to Floyd, he said they were "the best thing I've tasted in my life." That was a few years ago, when he still lived in Wadena.

I make them small, a scant teaspoonful of dough, so you can pop them in your mouth and there won't be another crumbly half to make a mess. Also, Floyd has only one hand to use; not that it makes any difference I suppose. However, here's where I'm looking for ideas from all you experienced cooks out there. I'd like these cookies to look nice as well as melt in your mouth. Do you think a pastry cone would work? Would the dough be soft enough to go through it?

After