Vine in a Cold Climate

Husband Bum

2012-01-27T16:19:00.001-05:00

When an image is amazing and or terrifying, I often say to Henry 'there you are'

In this case, there you are Henry. WOAH, Henry'

O Jun

2012-01-25T15:12:00.000-05:00

Wow.

Today I'm inspired by O Jun, a gouache artist from Tokyo whose work reminds me of my girl Maira Kalman's, 'cept with more amplified awkwardness. Very nice. I need inspiration today, in January. I feel like there is somewhat of a cultural trap in rural settings. Access to public art is not easy, especially contemporary public art. Not easy, I tell you, when the masses GULP down picturesque water colours and panoramic Georgian Bay views. I love this area, guard it dearly with my alls, but feel so dissatisfied sometimes with it's lack of moving forward in the area of cultural diversity/awareness. Wouldn't these draws bring in precious $ from precious tourists?

There is an old water front buildings from the glory days of manufacturing in my small town;

imagine it were restored the same way the Wychwood Barns were in TO?

MAGOG, it would be the best.

Today I was inspired first by O Jun, then by other gouache artists, which then inspired me to order a set of goauche colours.

I was inspired by:

blogs that are written with more heart and gusto than photog saturated pretty mom blogs.
The feeling you get in your stomach when something is new and exciting.
A colder, sunnier winter
Or a warmer (but still sunnier) spring/summer
freedom/travel

It has been a long times, touts.

I hope to spend more time writing words in the months to come, but we will see how this goes.

Ever EXPANDING

JNP

California Blogging

2011-11-09T20:37:00.004-05:00

California bloggers, you know who you are. Why is your colour schema so pretty, always? Why? Is your dusk different? The harsh times before us; these are the days of low light. In fact so low is the light in the sky that by 3:30 I prepare for dusk and guard myself when driving for animals on the road. Have I mentioned my always-be-prepared-for-animals-mania? Yesterday it was a dream come true for me; before 8:00am, a residential red fox and a majestic buck.

I digress.

California bloggers have better pictures.
Tonight while I tried to capture the true beauty of my dinner I was disgusted by the sallow colours my phone camera created. I have the same camera as the California bloggers, but they get that wheaten glow in their pictures. The sun favours you, LA, the natural wheaten glow of your dinner scenes.

In county grey we are sallow and brash, pasty.
In county grey we are into the peanut butter m&m's and Hardy's Australian Shiraz, and sadly not Clos Du Bois.
Big time sad face. Rolly polly winter coming and my thoughts are changing daily about all that has changed in the last few years. Yesterday I told a man in the grocery store (after he had asked me what was new) that I had finally circled down to reality and was boring again. I don't know how he took my comment. I wasn't being righteous about child bearing or marriage, but honest about the tizzy all of that stuff causes.
I am, much like the man I spoke with, buying lettuce and going about the life stuff SANS FLARE, these days.
Although the flare is lovely.
I will now enjoy the flare from the back seat, I think.
Just until winter passes.

California bloggers, your husbands wear suit and tie to work while you stay home and photograph your cute kids in apron dresses & bright colour. Your husband plays Satie when he gets home, the light beams in and catches dust flecks.

In county grey he goes to indoor soccer and leaves me at home with purple lips and a chip on my shoulder to rearrange the house. To file unnecessary paperwork in more temporary places, and dream about anthropologie sales that I will never invest in because of said paperwork and because I will not sacrifice top notch goat milk or heritage hen eggs.

It would be easier homesteading, I maintain; even though the work would be more plentiful.
My blog pictures (even though I wouldn't have one) would be way prettier.

Flying the coup on urbanity, ever more.

JNP

Happy Lists:

2011-10-07T13:30:00.006-04:00

In the spirit of Thanksgiving I will quickly jot a list of things that I am thankful for:

1. Thanks all you silly songs that BLARE from C's toys. It makes me happy, even though it is slightly irritating, because there is a pretty amazing little fella who reminds me of those silly songs.

2. Thanks weather for lately, because quite frankly I doubt I will be thanking you in several weeks from now.

3. Thanks room re-arrangement for making a living space make more sense, for no dollars.

4. Thanks re-use, because sometimes when I look at look books or catalogues of beautiful companies, I think that I need, when really I just want.

5. Thanks for our talks, M. You always put things into perspective in such a tidy/gracious way.

6. Thanks for family; Mother, Father, Sister, Brother Seeing the faces of y'all makes me happy (most days!)

7. Thanks tomatoes/peaches/zucchini/blueberry/apples, etc I am happy you are local to our locale!

8. Thanks Tonic with Tim Tamashrio or Katoe Malik. I think I have thanked you before, but have not shared the anecdote of eating candle lit family dinners with hubs and babes and teaching little one to toast. Would not be as special if there wasn't a jazz accompaniment!

9. Thanks for mental health awareness, for all of those people who work hard at making the information/education accessible to all.

10. Thanks to my immediates. I love you recklessly. So much I ache from it sometimes. Every night when I walk through the doorway, no matter what my mood, I am always so delighted you are there, even when you make too much noise.

I hope the weekend is kind to y'all, touts. Gobble Gobble
JP

August TUMULT

2011-08-26T15:28:00.002-04:00

A roaring BLECH to the last few weeks, Touts;
Quickly everything is whirlwind and chaos.
Times like these make me thankful for work place stability-ish,
and not envious of those who form business-ships.

How can I delicately pronounce that quite suddenly we are one income?
It is true, sadly.

And I won't waste too much time trying to diplomatically castrate meat headed hill folk.
Nope.

We have had two long weeks of aching shoulders, bulging eyeballs, swollen belly
STRESS
And finally there seems to be a resolution on the horizon.

Look, I am not so self absorbed that I don't realize a loss of income is a pretty middle class problem.
We eat.
We sheltered.
We clothed.
What damages us are the disappointing missed connections with our thought-to-be friends.
We are dumbfounded by our naivety, and our desire for neutrality.

Now though we are preparing for new horizons.
Brains are making wild projections of relocating and making our ends meet more agreeably.
When we look back on this time it will be for the better.

In more HIGH SPIRITED NEWS
My child plays the harmonica.
I will not exploit him by uploading the amazing video I have of him doing so, but will simply say, if you know me ask me, and I will show you, and it will make your day.
I hope.
It definitely makes it difficult to sulk when a one year old waddles around the house wailing on a harp.

In better times, Touts.
AND Rest in glorious peace JACK LAYTON.

Orange Crush,

JP

CH CH CHANGES

2011-07-16T14:08:00.002-04:00

This has to be mentioned.
I was all dancey claps leaving work early yesterday after our annual cleaning closure
and I met my dear buddy and colleague at the bar, for a quick one because the TDI BROKE DOWN and I was waiting for hubs to pick me up.

Hubs arrives with baby after 2 delicious summer cocktails have been consumed.
Hubs sits down and orders a brew.
We order baby french fries and long beans with garlic, then we let him try ketchup for the first time in his life.
My rational; my good dinner intentions are already ruined when you feed the babe french fries.
Baby dives into the ketchup, scooping it up in his hands, then smears the left side of his head and brow with the mess
AND TOTALLY LOOKS LIKE BOWIE AS ZIGGY STARDUST!!!!
You know the Bowie I'm talking about? The fuchsia lightning stripe across the face?
I was ROFL when this occurred, but do you know what didn't occur to me?
Taking some radical hipstamatic images to upload to the inter web from my brand new iphone.
Having cellular technology is so very daunting.

I want to foster/protect a sense of privacy and mystique/intrigue by blogging.
I want to keep precious moments private, to an extent.
I think I don't want to gloat about them because they are so dear to me, so absolutely everything, that I don't want to make a monopoly out of it.

BUT
I. AM. OBSESSED. WITH. BEAUTIFUL. FAMILY/PHOTOG BLOGS.
Obsessed.
I ear mark pages of blogs I want to read on a daily basis.
I want to see how the other half live, and I want to be there with them, blogging my life away in tandem,
but I am too shy to make the total commitment. To share myself with strangers.

Cellular mobility, social networking;
you are NOW.

You are powerfully persuasive, and you make me question my intentions.
I said to Hubs, I might retire this ithing before the week of ownership is over.
Mother guilts.

It's not like a pass judgment on people who use, I absolutely do not.
I just don't think it is for me; I feel desperate and contrived.
Maybe these emotions stem from a misunderstood and awkward youth?
Nobody would believe that.

In other news, because speaking on technology is BORING,
I need to shout out loud this:
I LOVE MY HUSBAND.
Every now and then I'm overcome with this adoration.
Hubs is so radical and hilarious and really so good to be around.
Good thing we married.

In closing I will mention some radical summer moments of lately:

1. Sailing the icy GB with Hubs on Father Day. While it was not a great wind until we were almost through with it, it was a wonderful experience to bob around in the big endless drink. It was nice to watch Hubs rig the boat too, with such care and diligence. I see sailing as a calling in his life.

2. Canada Day Parade in DT Meaford with my Mother and baby, and Perri.
It was moving, I'm not going to deny it.
The veterans made me weep with gratitude for our freedom.

3. Swimming with Tommy and Coco.
Well, I didn't swim, but Tommy and Coco did.
And they went for the plunge together, hand in hand, all 'the calm before the baby-like'
These final nesting weeks before 'Gaffer' arrives are real special, and I can just remember myself, as if it were yesterday. what an adventure they have to look forward to, and I am darn excited to spoil the little 'un.

More memories to share with you soon.
Until the humidity breaks,

JP

Balmy Mons

2011-06-13T14:22:00.003-04:00

Awake at 4:45 am with my one year old.
One year old child refuses to go back to sleep so I grogg downstairs to the espresso machine and make a cappuccino so strong my tongue grows hair. Serious.
The good thing about all of this?
The sun was shining for a whole one hour at 5:00am.
The annoying thing?
I think it's going to be a terrific day full of sunshine and heat, and when one year old and I go down for a 7:00am sleep, we wake an hour later to freezing cold overcast.
Spring time in Southern Ontario, you can F right O.

My child turned one this past weekend;
I will not bore you with an indepth & neurotic analysis of the fast forward life, perhaps you will or have experienced a similar kind of thing.
It is terrifying to measure your own life against physical/mental growth of a childs life in one year. REMARKABLE.
I hold hands with my sweet baby when we nap together, and I marvel at him during waking hours because he can do so much more than he could only one short year ago. He hams, for example. My child has a sh** eating grin. He also speed crawls, and runs around tables. Other than Mother, what have I accomplished this past year? REMARKABLE.
I'm racing the nap clock now, so must wrap up the depth. In closing I will make a list of things, not necessarily good things, but things that have my attention.

THING LIST JUNE 13:

1. Ann Coulter's new book Demonic stares at me in the face at bobby shore; thankfully not one circulation record to report, but still the anger when I look at the stupid, highly sexualized book jacket. This woman does not have to struggle. This woman, who wears 3 inch micro mini skirts and feigns intelligence on television, GETS RANDOM HOUSE TO PUBLISH HER BULLSHIT!!! And I blog about it. Gross, no?

2. I'm edgy about my garden. Just got spectacular good perennial coverage for the goth garden (THX, COCO!!) and still no sunshine, no consistent warmth. I fear the summer coming, might be a bummer of a summer weather wise. But Weather Lords, prove me wrong, k?

3. Good things now: My child. My HUSBAND!! My child and Husband together, their spectacular bond deepening now that I have gone back to work and Henry does the PM babysittting run. There is good to the work return afterall.

These are all things I could convey to a pen pal.

4.
I wish, O. I. WISH, that I lived during the letter writing hay day. I wish I was friends with the Mitfords. Ho Hum, I feel in my life I am cut out for just that. Maybe instead I write one sided postulations ala Rex Murphy or Margaret Wente. On small town living and politics, I think I would, and maybe might.

Until then though, I am fast and fickle, chasing a one year old and trying to keep my wits about.
Forever full of the strong stuff,
JNP

Designing Mothers

2011-06-01T09:36:00.004-04:00

I applaud you for what you do;
for the tender and heart wrenching balance of putting on
work face and Mother face.

I am back to the feeling that was put on hold for one year.
Back to quick paced lightning talk and organization.
The organization is a blessing, the everything else including sending my beautiful child away for the day, a curse.
Motherhood, you have made me a woman who wonders why on earth we have children if we do not get to ourselves raise them.

These are the numbers that go through my mind:
8 hours child care
9 hours working
8-10 hours sleeping

And then precious home time is a scramble.
You walk through the door, switching hats quickly to whatshouldweandheeatfordinner?
Dog needs a walk, house a mess, and of course, we are all tired from along day.
But I want to squeeze out every.precious.moment.
I want to look at his new teeth and laugh when he quacks like a duck.

A Rotarian followed me around a garden centre on Sunday and said:
The reason my kids were so well adjusted and happy?
My house was a mess.

Priorities.
It's not the house that needs tending,
but our delicate and meaningful family life.

Rejoice

2011-05-25T21:20:00.002-04:00

“What is home without Plumtree’s Potted Meat?
Incomplete.
With it an abode of bliss.

***Don't forget me***

Hocus Pocus Crocus 2011

2011-05-15T13:31:00.003-04:00

This image captured the week of April 10, 2011
Thanks to Florence Lynch for the garden, and thus the inspiration.

Winter Brings Spring then Marriage, but no Moving

2011-05-15T12:45:00.004-04:00

It is not easy to be a writer in the northern winter, I think. I find instead that naval gazing is more reliable, and eating. We're emerging now, though slowly, and wearily. Onward late starting spring, many projects to busy ourselves with. Twice we almost left our Parker Street abode this past season. Twice we found ourselves hurrying through discussions with mortgage handlers and real estate agents, in a rush to maximize land/privacy benefits. It's funny though, because years prior to my small town return I was living in large cities; Toronto & Montreal, and now being in a rural village, essentially, seems to crowded. After collecting our thoughts about this for sometime, we decided though that we don't need to rush ourselves to the quiet of country life, because we have so much to be thankful for close by. The Georgian Bay, just one of the terrific things about this town, is a two minute walk from our front door, one and a half minutes, Henry reckons, if there is no traffic on the street. Sailing with confidence in the Georgian Bay is as much a goal as farming grapes, and much more achievable in the short term since Henry purchased his modest seventeen foot sail boat (without outboard) almost two years ago. Baby child happened last summer and kept me away from the rolling waters for obvious reasons, but now that baby child is more independent, perhaps too will Ma & Pa.
We hope to sail the glorious waters on Sundays.

Now an anecdote:
Henry and I were married one month ago; the picture that you see is of us, as a newly wedded couple.
Henry and I have a long history of loving the dance floor, and I was reminded of this last night at a friends wedding while we were cutting up a rug. With wind in my sails I promptly went to the disc jockey and requested Dolly and Kenny Islands in the Stream, because it is so amazing. I marched over to Henry and repeated five times, this next song is a song we have to dance to (because up until then it had been footloose and love shack); so the song comes on just as Henry gets swallowed up in with the hard drinking men folk, and I (sober) rush to the cedar plank stage thinking we will show everyone up with our made-up two step; but, no Henry.
Like I said, swallowed up with the men folk, and the dark drink.
As any wife learns quickly she is no longer afraid to do, I marched up to him like it was my god given right, and told him he HAD to dance with me, that it was MY REQUEST, and that he owed it to me.
So without one word he guides himself to the front of the dance floor, and obliges his snooty wife the dance.
Immediately after it's some unmemorable top forty track, Henry goes back to the men and I'm feeling a little bit chuffed until someone says to me as I am walking by, you two are so cute.
I think about it a minute; likely this is mentioned because we seem to enjoy the dance floor when we are mutually arriving there, not forced too.
I digress; this is a moment captured where we are mutually interested in dancing with one another, and talking sweet something at each other. Our wedding day may not have been the kind made up of tradition, but it was definitely made up of so much love and respect, and I will remember that always, very fondly.

LIquor Milk

2010-12-28T09:41:00.005-05:00

This holiday season don't try to fool your breasts into believing they are not full of liquor milk.
Use these breastie-testies.

Brought to you by the purveyor of liquor milk,

JNP

PS

2010-12-20T11:58:00.001-05:00

SORRY FOR THE SWEARS!!!!
I don't normally like swears.
It doesn't look good, but neither does the song title Forget You
Just doesn't resonate the same, does it?

Cee Lo Green - FUCK YOU (Official Video)

2010-12-20T11:57:00.000-05:00

Oven Elements

2010-12-16T17:50:00.004-05:00

Mind races thoughts of Cee Lo Green & uncertain future. Recently a bad pre-winter (PRE WINTER, Y'ALL!!) storm pummeled through these parts rendering us useless for days and heavily HEAVILY reliant on grid-like luxuries. It got me a little panicked. For example, the next time power goes out during a pre winter storm, how are you going to keep your family warm? We of the forced air variety huddled in one bedroom, lit like fireflies with bee wax candles and prayed to the holy that we would stay warm together until the heat came back on. I have since resigned myself to save seeds and search out heating alternatives. It feels so dirty to need the oil. What would we do, really? I've been talking a lot with my terrific pal Coco. What would we do in an essentially skill-less society? We're smart, sure, and we earn, but what does anyone really know about earth and dirt and wood and sewing? I'm not being righteous either - I don't really know a thing about sewing clothing for my children if I had to. The real temptation is getting back to the basics without seeming like a hysterical chicken little, which I think Henry must think of me post-Monday night. God grant everyone that would make good use of it a small plot of land. That is what I want. In the New Year, and for the remainder of my term as stay-at-home parent, maybe I should take up lessons on quilting, sewing, etc.

Maybe too this infatuation with sustaining ones family has come from my recent read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Maybe the infatuation because everyone is talking about transitioning and peak oil.
But maybe it's just time that we quit thumbing touch screens for guitar tuners and having skype convos.
Maybe we should eat a meal we have cooked with our loved ones.
That's not righteous or exclusive or privileged, that should be instinctive.

But FutureShop still makes record sales in December, and that won't end any time soon, will it..

This generation in N.A has gotten this want/need bug mixed up with real values, I think.
And we perpetuate this by need/get reflexes, that culminate so quickly it kicks up dust.
How many people have given their credit cards OBSCENE work outs this holiday season?
Truly we should all be looking to the craft do-sayers like Martha Stewart, but then, we middle classes feed the mouths of the super rich by honoring her EMPIRE.
It's really bonkers.

There are too many things that I want, too many to name, but in the hopes of getting it right, resting on my cedar boughs, I want most of all health & happiness for those around me.

Today is a baking day.
Almost every element is getting a work out right now.
The stock is bubbling and flavouring away
The granolas are toasting.

I'm putting every bit of energy I have into making this holiday season reflections of the BIG LOVE in my heart
For my friends and my family.

With this song in my head, see above for the Cee Lo reference.
I guess he's an xbox, and I'm an Atari

Eternally an Atari,

JNP

The 365 Day Money Wise Challenge

2010-11-18T12:21:00.005-05:00

We have been pillow talking about things of great importance lately. November is a good month to air out internal grievances. We pillow talk despite exhaustion because Catherine gives us black orange pekoe tea after seven pm and we are sensitive and over tired to begin with.
We need to summon the Gods of Money Wise.
We have also been reading, one year behind, Margaret Atwoods Massey Lecture Payback; some interesting anecdotes on the origin and hypocrisy of debt. The money wise challenge begins with an aggressive weekly saving regimen and then manifests into investing - eventually.
The evolution of money woe is a funny thing.
Before responsibility, the house dog and child kind, money lament was agonizing over designer sunglasses.
Now it is so much more than that. We don't want great wealth, we want to build a family home soon.
So we pinch our pennies and clip coupons (if I remember)
And we will work at our saving in a time when saving seems absurd.
April 10, 2011 is our most recent (and finalized?) wedding date.
But we're not interested in the luxury wedding at this point.
Who would we be fooling? Jig has been up since Squidge came along.
Speaking of whom....he wakes.

In other news, while I attempt to let Squidge 'settle' back to sleep:

Henry cannot stop saying that he needs some lip smack.
It reminds me of Bonne Bell from the early 80's and I laugh and ask him if he is a figure skater.
Henry says he used to think they were called finger painters.
And I laugh harder.
Then he pastes lip smack all over his lips and I laugh again.
Do you remember Kristi Yamaguchi?
By the time she was winning medals I had transformed myself to tough ringette player, a forward in case you are wondering, with a shot so fierce I knocked a goalie over and once beat the only male player I ever encountered with the tip of my stick.

Anyway, Kristi Yamaguchi used lip smack.

I can no longer continue this rant about money and finger painting.
The child dictates and the dog needs a pee.

Until the November darkness descends, and then some

JP

DJ Boneless/Skinless

2010-10-01T13:30:00.002-04:00

I thought it was a brilliant idea - that if I were to DJ professionally I would be known as DJ Boneless/Skinless.
I had the thought in one of my lucid dreaming states last night and forgot to share with Henry who was so consumed with working man pains that he wouldn't have laughed anyway.

Two at the Table:
Alice Waters

For her frankness on local/slow foods - her deliciously practical recipes.
I would have to ask her though about her decision to have shark fin soup as her last meal on earth.
I feel a little bit WTF about this since watching a sharkumentary recently.

So many things to do:
Paying the man, and paying and paying, top priority
Writing/research
VOTING

And of course, as always now, raising the boy child who I love so much I juss cannot deal.

Tonight - - - - the invasion of the Scarecrow!!!!

Stuffed full of hay,

JP

Dinner With:

2010-09-28T12:51:00.006-04:00

Mind racing caffeinated thoughtsalldaylong..
I just figured out how to edit pages again - - so please 'cuse the ugly from afore.

It is autumnal, the life is shriveling up and fading.
Parenting for the Lord has become slightly more predictable, though not free from its trying moments.
It seems that all I want to do with my extra time in the day is clean and prepare the evening meal.
This makes me worry, Touts...
Worry I have lost my edge.

It is true that I may drink more caffeine than before, but caffeine is not edgy not when the nineteen fifties housewife enjoyed gin from their aprons all afternoon.
In these days such a thing would be unacceptable.

Also my fringe is gone, and I feel like Heidi from the Swiss Meadows with barrettes in my hair.
Do you want to know what I do to make a quick edge?
I wear a leather jacket when I go out with the Lord - also I make a point of raising the occasional eye brow and scowling at curious onlookers 'Yes there is a baby child in there, Holy EFF!'

All of this edge losing and identity crisis has enabled me to create a list of edgy dinner guests I would invite to spice up my life, and while yes I would likely prepare a plebian stew, clad in comfies, conversation would certainly rock the house into a SHOCKING state.

What do you think of my guest list?
From now until 12 place settings, I will include a new guest - - Henry, Lord, and I will sit on the floor - - actually Henry would likely give up on this endeavor and tinker in the stabbing cabin.

First at the table:

Genesis P. Orrige

I've attached some random photogs - one of which is P. Orrige with goad teef.
The others are what this rainy late morning looks like.

Until the sun doth shine, forever YRS

JNP

Voting Day Approaches

2010-09-14T13:28:00.005-04:00

I did not file nomination papers for Council THIS election term upcoming.
Want to know why?
To borrow from the Talking Heads, this is how I feels:

Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . nothing

Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight . . . say goodnight

Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I'll be . . . where I'll be

Hi yo We drift in and out
Hi yo sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I'm just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head Ah ooh

I am lucky and cozy and MADLY in love with my family.

The best things of September are:

1. Family snuggles
2. Courtland apples
3. Autumn hiking with babe in Bjorn
4. Tonic with Tim Tamashiro
5. Property sleuthing
6. Turning on the oven
7. Obedient Perri
8. Married AND Expecting pals!!!!!!!!!!!!
9. Weekend road trips
10.Preparing the house for hibernation (to the tune of Earthquake Cab and fancy BUT easy dinners)

Betty Draper Mother Nature

2010-08-25T16:09:00.007-04:00

A contentious issue on the horizon - - that I have becomeahypocrite. I'm terrified to admit it to Mother Earth but the very fact of the matter is I had at one time fully intended on using cloth diapers but now cower at the very thought of it. Let's just boil it all down to the bare bum essentials - if I were to add soaking poo diapers plus another load(s) of laundry to my list of daily-to-dos I would lose my mind more than it is already lost. The precious moments of me time, as I have mentioned, are very few in the day - I'm sorry that I refuse to spend them stirring shitty diaper pails. Mother Earth and my dear brave friends, I applaud you. Subsequent children may yet be clothed in cloth, but spare me the stress of doing so with my number one.

When Tiny sleeps in those rare afternoon moments I hop to my feet, SAWEET JESUS, and run down the stairs to make an espresso so strong it could start my car. I read book reviews. I vacuum the house and dust. I sort out dinner (because I am a house tramp now?) I take on renovation projects (or at least think about whom I will delegate them to)I BREATH non-Mama breaths...

Parenting is lovely stuff, but serious work which does not accumulate vacation pay, or really any pay for that matter.

In other news:

This year the gardens are a mess, naturally. Compost was spread onto our garden patch in early spring and mystery seeds sprouted and overtook most planned rows. We, for example, grew many more varieties on tomato than we had anticipated, but then sacrificed all of the peas we were looking forward to. The beans didn't come either, but the bean fairy, my dear pal Cait was over at least once a week bestowing upon us so many beans we thought to build a home out of the woody ones.

Cait took over the remaining grape vines and finds them thriving in a random patch on their farm.

We have decided that we are going to move. Too many nights of noise (and gun fire!!)to make it feel worth our while. Architectural plans well under way. Dinner with friends who live in our desired floor plan, scouting out homes on Boucher; admiring wood siding and watch tower. If property is in our future, and eventually a home, WE GOTTA GIT RICHER. Building fees have recently increased in our Municipality making one wonder how on earth the anyone but the super rich can build a home (maybe this is the point?)

Err, so, the next thing is do I run for Council in the autumn election? Sixty hour work weeks when I go back to the grind - could I manage? This is the connundrum of the week. Nobody has really declared themselves running for this election, in typical fashion I suppose. Campaign would be El Cheapo. Me with baby in arms on foot canvasing, he's so darn cute perhaps he could win the whole thing for me on looks alone...

Jokes, Touts.

Never Ending the Whirlwind and the Spin Cycle.

Until Victory,

JNP

A Catastrpohe in the Kitchen

2010-08-02T21:02:00.004-04:00

Brand(ish) new continues to dictate daily on-goings.
Sometimes I look at him terrified that ten pounds and three ounces decides what kind of day and week we're having.

Mammy and Papa tower over him, marveling - this is what it has come to.
The loss of the individual, Touts.

Everything is loose (mentally) and fragmented.
I want to wrap my head around this thing, this tremendous responsibility I have to Tiny, but A-HA! moments are quick and fleeting and then replaced with feelings of failure.

Quickly I remind those close by that feelings of failure are not ones to fear, but rather ones to learn from.

The more of one particular thing you do, the more manageable it becomes.
I will champion ear piercing screams, one day, and so to will I not bat a lash (or shed tears) when they shit and piss the table.

Perhaps its cliche to write that for every social smile Tiny makes at Henry or myself it makes every misplaced poop worth while.

Parenting is fascinating work, humbling too when you set aside selfish needs for the needs of another. Naturally things that once were dear to the individual self are on the back burner, LITERALLY. I'm a catastrophe in the kitchen. Things that were once seasoned with love and time are now scraps of disappointment, and yet cook books are my choice of word these days...I guess it is the escapism. Currently devouring Cleaving by that Julie and Julia ham.

Nine o'clock EST. Henry and I thought it was Ten just a while ago, and practically fell all over each other to get to our bed and then stopped dead when we realized it was still eight something. We the sleep deprived, reeking of parental weariness and milk.

Is this a total shock to read? I can assure you that you might not get the full disclosure in What to Expect books. I'm trying honesty.

HOWEVER you don't need to doubt my devotion to Tiny Son and growing family, because I think it is all breathtakingly beautiful.

Nine twenty six EST. I've been flossing and writing intermittently, quickly trying to catch up on popular culture in between strokes and minding Perri Aliosius. Time for some much needed Z's (and a little bit of pillow talk with my lover).

THE NEW NORMAL gets more manageable.

With more from the front lines in time (when Tiny Son starts day time napping, perhaps)

All YRS

JP

Attempting Normalcy

2010-07-18T12:47:00.007-04:00

The new normal, it seems, is fitted with countless diapers, sleep deprivation, and working on a schedule that I have no way of estimating.

But so it goes...

These are the glory days of adulthood they tell me, and I believe that they must be right. Baby minding, child growing, it keeps one on their toes.

Brand new currently sleeps on the dining table in a sea grass basket; I realize moments without him awake are few and precious, my mind races to the things that need attention - first are those of less importance but more easily accomplished; laundry needs to be turned, dishes in the sink, puke to clean up...
The weightier things are the ones I don't get to do much anymore, it seems. I want to make gouache pictures and get better at taking digital photogs. I want to write more and learn the fine art of bread baking. I WANT TO PAINT THE SPARE BEDROOM BLUE.

But, the tiny morsel stirs, and grunts and squeaks and protests my attempts at individuality - you are mine now, Mom. It humbles me.

Off to steam some milk for me, maybe check the mail and my ebay.
Quickly though, because now he stirs...

A Mammy if there ever was one, Touts

With Sincerity,

JP

Desperate Housewives

2010-06-02T20:31:00.002-04:00

I know I am suppose to be putting my feet up and enjoying the final moments of a child free life, I know this.
But please LAWD don't turn me into a desperate house wife.
So far this week I've made a three hour ragu
Slow roasted granolas
and taped drywall
When I'm not challenging myself I am either tidying the office, working on Wood Forge statements or finalizing some such thing that has gone undone for too long. Soon I will have fluffy bangs, Reeboks and socks,
and a Mini Van??
PLEASE LAWD!

I've made some arrangements to busy myself this year, however;
I'm planning on running for Municipal Office in the October election It had been a goal of mine before pregnancy occurred, and throughout it's course I got to thinking it might be a good thing to aim for in the months postpartum, especially because the voice of a young family person is not currently <> represented on our Council. I'd like to see more incentive made to attract people to live in this area - and in doing so this town will need to maintain proper facilities (NEW LIBRARY), affordable housing, and thoughtful infrastructure. I think that currently all of the commercial land owners (or OWNER) sit pretty on their bargain investments and won't do anything with it until THEY come. Also, where are the good jobs, huh? Maybe Amy would have come if you offered her something pretty..
O, Meaford....
In addition to this undertaking, as it were, I would like to:
Master bread baking
Digital photography
and write more than I currently do.

This is possible, Touts??
With Babe nearly in tow, I will let you know.

It's raining cats and dogs outside, I'll attach photogs and you can see for yourself. Rain barrels are FULL, which was the goal. Also attaching photogs of bathroom renovation which have been promising for half a year.
VOILA, it's finished.

Braxton Hicksing through the latter day, and waiting for Doula
JNP

Saturday, Etc

2010-05-29T10:56:00.004-04:00

Where does the body begin and end in this picture?
Protruding belly button, shrek extremities...
G-L-A-M

Temporary retirement began at 2:00pm EST Friday, May 28
Let the new adventure begin - - soonish.
Give me a day or two to read my books and hurry about.

Last night there were gun shots on our street corner - two of them made by a rifle Henry reckons.
I startled awake and scared, then felt protective as a bear with her cubs.

We're two weeks into what I believe will be a droughty summer.
Henry suggests we steal waters from the GB because our pay-for prices have gone UP and the rain barrels are empty. Seeds need a start....

But I have more rhubarb than I know what to do with.
Want some compote or buttermilk muffins?

In other news, I hastily rotated my wardrobe.
Gone are those horrid-drapey-matron articles...
Though I barely fit the regulars.

It's like I'm a combo of Shrek and Incredible Hulk.
What is left to lose - vanity insanity?
LONG GONE

JK, touts.
Seriously isn't so bad.

I think I'll paint the yellow room blue today...

Magically Domestic,

JNP

Boiling Ants

2010-05-26T15:37:00.006-04:00

Outside our house there is a vintage Heritage wood stove sitting alone against a stack of cut fire wood and an axe.
The axe, fluorescent orange, rivals me for Henry's affection; if it were Stihl or Husqvarna there would be no doubt,
I'd sleep in the stabbing cabin.

These days, odd little manifestations and obsessions pave our way to the unknowing of parenthood.
The lights need to be changed, the switch plates, the colour palates, the feng shui of the space - the fluidity of the room.
The air, the desire to burn sage and wish for peaceful transitions...

We planted gardens this past long weekend, and followed the sunshine in our lawn chairs around the house.
This year we are keeping our wet and boggy soils appeased by not asking too much.
Six or so tomato plants, some beans and peas and lettuces.

AND BING CHERRIES, don't you know...

an Anecdote about Boiled Ants:
The Heritage stove has had fires lit in it - outside, without the stove pipe or setting.
Army ants, Henry hates
STORM the gardens, sting his knees
So he boils the fuckers.

In an odd type of anticipation,

JNP

Not Fooling

2010-03-31T15:05:00.004-04:00

This is my thirty second week of pregnancy.
The little smuggler inside of me flops around morning noon and night anticipating grand entry.
I often find myself looking at what some have described as my little beach ball thinking
you're less little each day.

And I wonder what the nethers look like...

Ron Lord has christened babchka (in utero) as Earl, but still the name game runs on in its contention.
There are many names one could call the first of their brood but only one that will make perfect sense,
like PERRI ALIOSIUS PERKS, his name is perfect.
We will continue to work on this, then when we meet we shall decide.

Nicknames are great though, and likely Earl will stick.
Ron always comes up with the best one's
Nathan was Ana or Weenie Man and still is at twenty seven.
Dad calls me Martha and sings it at the top of his lungs at a silly pitch.
Matthew is Matchka
Holly is Louise, Ron is the Ron Lord or Ron Dog, etc, etc

Look no further than the Mitfords to confirm that nicknames, as much as your given one's, are the stuff of family funnies and idiosyncrasies.

Names pre occupy my thirty two week/weary self.
My midwife told me a funny anecdote passed along to her by a Mennonite woman she was caring for.
The lady says 'Mother told me about the three stages of pregnancy: weary, cheery and dreary'

I'm not totally dreary but totally, at this stage, a foreigner in my once predictable twenty nine year old body.
And I'm unforgivably impatient at the best of times, imagine that I have two months left of this tick tocking??

In other news our bathroom renovation is finally nearly finished, which means that soon the house will be in working order again. Toilets and tubs will be placed and lumber will find a new home away from my hallway.
I crave the order. It's been quite an adjustment to moisturize in a hallway mirror.
Do you hate me for writing that?
Vanity insanity. I should be happy to have a roof.

In other news I'm feeling good about the gardens this year because I think I'll have time to tend them.
I started Black Krim, Ana Assa, Black Cherries, and another heirloom canning tomato I cannot recall.
Mark my pre partum words; I will weed and stake - diligently, Dear Henry.

Spring is so far a darling.
Balmy foggy mornings followed by cloud parting and glorious sunshine - raining mostly at night.
Rub your tummies and make a wish - - this grow season better than the last.

Finally, have started some projects for my term leave, and want to collect some info.
Heard of the Proust Questionnaire?
Familiarize yourself and we'll talk next time.
Click on post title for the link.

Pictures to follow.

Until then, foggy and green.

JNP

Dangerously Low On Snacks

2010-02-24T13:17:00.007-05:00

At Bobby on a SUNNY Saturday in March.
Criminal.

These days we don't have enough hours in the day to get it all done.

Above me you will find two pictures;
Picture one shows you the VERY early stages of the bathroom gut, of which we are more than halfway through.
I shouldn't have used the colloquial 'we' in that sentence, really it has been Henry and RON LORD and mighty TC who have hammed away.
I value the strong helpful hands of these fine men, because as belly protrudes and weighs on my lower self, tasks that wouldn't bother me do all of a sudden. They won't even let me carry dry wall, or place it.

Will post another progress picture tomorrow maybe.
Still must tile, paint, insert fixtures, add toiletries.

On a side note, it is tremendously overwhelming to re fabricate your home whence a baby child is on the way.
We thought it needed to happen because we thought Little Lice would need to bathe in a proper tub.
Really I think we were so socked with our results that we justified our project by acknowledging we could soon soak our terrified bones into submission.

Picture Two is Perri Aliosius, mighty majestic in his forest pose, mid winter.
Many hikes and walks and thoughts this winter, but very little gloom (surprisingly).
Maybe when you are aware of the world changing, you appreciate it more?
We spend many quiet nights after walks and hikes, curled up in blankets and writing out the garden rows for 2010.
The nesting instinct is a remarkable thing..

So is snacking...

Dangerously low on snacks and without a lunch.
Gut is churning around the apple that has done nothing, the half of an avocado that has done nothing, the coconut water that has done nothing.

The body would like some eggs for lunch, I think.

Here is a sample menu of dinner tonight - on another side note, I feel so lucky to have the luxury of food in my life.
I guess I've never really thought of it more - my family eats well...

Here is what I will feed my king tonight:

Wild mushroom and spring onion risotto (**need chicken stock**)
Pepper rubbed beef tenderloin with aioli
Bitter green with hazelnuts

No meal is complete without Melosh.
Must find his glass ware....

Never ending longer days and melting snow,

JP

I Love

2010-01-21T15:19:00.004-05:00

After watching the compelling documentary Food Incorporated, I vowed to buy only locally produced fruits and vegetables and only happy meat. It has been some weeks (maybe 3) since I saw the film and made the vow, and now it's time for an update.

I'm a hypocrite.
I'm a hypocrite during blood orange season.
I simply cannot resist these tangy crimson beauties, they're too beautiful not to buy.
However, in my defense, or in the defense of my hypocritical ways, I purchased these blood oranges for Library programs and sampled them while preparing slices for my kids class.
Quality control, you know?

Apart from the blood orange catastrophe, I have been strong in my commitments, which has definitely made the grocery bill noticeably larger.
Happy chickens, of course you're happy, because your farm keepers probably feed you caviar and champagne.
You probably roam around your farm fields in Hum V's, and use sea doo's in your ponds.
Happy chickens are expensive, but worth the empty pockets.

Apart from the expensive happy chickens, eating from my home province is not so bad or so expensive, just a little bit boring.

Potatoes
Carrots
Onions
Beets

Fiber is good for pregnancy they say, but Cait mentioned this afternoon, does not make a nice stir fry.

January is sunny around these parts, touts!!!
JANUARY AND SUNSHINE!?!?1
These two words are usually so far away from one another.
Have been enjoying many long hikes in the woods with my best buddy Perri Perks and other human friends.

Henry, my Matchka, on the other hand, is CAPITALLY busy.
Calloused hands and saw dusted outer clothing.

Henry if you're reading this, please take a day off.

Beaming with sunshine,

JP

Ps: Think about Haiti
If you can spare the take away coffee for a week, or the what-have-you, you can make a donation to your local Rotary, or charity of choice.

Boblio Silence: Is this possible?

2010-01-14T16:44:00.004-05:00

Talk
Talk
Talk
Talk
TalkGABTALK I'm dreaming of sweet silence and thick walls today, so the power within me can requisition to the tune of $30,000. I want ice bergs to crash around my invisible office walls, attaching history old debris and barnacles to ward off visitors.Silence please, everybody freeze, dadadadada, and then POOF*** every single one of those guilty disappear to the gum flapping land of ma bell. BECOME AN OPERATOR IF YOU WANNA TALK.

In other news, there are 9700 google entries to 'Canadian aid to Haiti'
Look into it, and if you can spare the $5 you spend on hoagies, text HAITI to # 45678
Unless you don't have a cell phone like me, then you can juss call Red Cross, and the lovely chatterboxes on sitchboard can help you.

A Year (and decade) in Review

2009-12-29T15:06:00.003-05:00

I don't wish to reflect much on the decade, as with the early twenties, boy were they fickle. I was reading through journal entries last week when Henry was away trying to master the island of Catan.. The journal entries from city yore are such a yawn that I felt mortified for the way I must have imposed myself onto people. I am sorry A.B and M.K and C.N and D.V and A.D for my abundant insanity. I even remember that once during fitful and hazy pot smoking days, I was convinced that I had a poisonous infection in my bottom right wisdom tooth, one that led me to drag poor D.V to the Dundas hospital emergency department where some patient and not ironic MD looked at me sadly, recognizing the paranoia maybe, and said something to the tune of, you're fine, really. D and I had been sitting anxiously in emerge with bloody people for what seemed like hours when the MD announced the clean bill. I was sheepish and sad and paranoid, D was my buddy who didn't make fun of me.
Then there were University woes and the unforgettable isolation from the rat race.
I am so glad I'm here, and also so glad for the way I arrived here.
I had a lot of will despite that I let things get me down.
I hope to hang on to that in my future endeavors.

Because the future endeavors, after cooling for some time, are about to become the unthinkable in 2010.
And we're preparing, boy are we busy preparing.
We're around the clock ripping up rooms and collecting borrowed things.
Reading some hysterical books, some informative one's.
Nesting away in the cold.

We've said goodbye to the shortest day of the year, and we're already saying that things are looking up.
This year instead of getting bogged down by winter blahs, I am, with great confidence, going to lap up all of the solitude that is left. Going from me to we in June will be so different, so spectacularly different.

Here are some recent things that have caught my attention:

Food, INC
Have you watched this or read Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food?
It's the same song we food purists have been singing for a long time, but these two more severe.
More imminent should be the change that NA makes to bettering their well being.
We watched and decided not to drink orange juice anymore, rather apple juice.
And chicken, since we're urban rural with no fenced yard, we don't have a coup (boy would I LOVE one though)
so now what? NEVER EAT ANOTHER QUESTIONABLE BIRD AGAIN.
Prices will no longer be consideration, quality will now take the lead, because I don't feel so righteous, so entitled to poultry that I don't care what has happened to it along the way.
From now on, only died-happy chickens allowed in my house.
A question for blog land, does anyone know any happy chicken farms we could buy poultry from in the grey/bruce area? We are in Meaford, but are able to get to Collingwood/Owen Sound area easily.

The Completion of Laundry Room
I know we're working on other things now, but i can't help but indulge this wicked part of me that wants to see this room completed, yesterday. I imagine a window seat bed for Perri, cupboards for storage, A LIGHT, a desk with a larger screen computer (maybe an imac 27" ??)
And finally, a bountiful and bright plant stand full of thriving seedlings and hearty dinner herbs.
I want you all in my life immediately.

Pearls
Instead of delivering mittens as I had requested, Santa gave me an upgrade!!!!!
A string of creamy, delicate pearls.
I feel a lass is instant class
when adorned in strings of pearls
(anyone want to finish the rhyme??)

Florence
The classiest woman I know, my grand mama.
I love seeing her always.

In anecdotal news Perri Perks skinned part of his skull off at the fairgrounds where he eagerly runs off leash to the bleachers to find poop.
So he looks like the bald stooge, Larry (we think).
On top of this poor mutt has some nose scratching problems, and has managed to take off fur at the base of his nose.
He looks mangled to me because normally his stature, well he is so beautiful and majestic.
I booked him a vet appointment Monday and wish him a healthy bill (for his sake and my wallets)

O wallets.

Rain monies and sunshine, health and happiness on all of you this next decade, it's suppose to get interesting..

Reluctantly new age-ish

JNP

Snowy in Siberia

2009-12-11T11:15:00.000-05:00

Have I mentioned this at the onset of previous rural winters, the snowy Siberia? It never fails to amaze me the amount of snow that falls around here early in the b-season. I use small b without the itch accompaniment because I find the snow fall soothing before the holidays. I like to cover up that forgotten bloom of September and prepare for the one that is coming, much prettier, next April.
O the bloom will be severely and perhaps brutally painful this season, but whoppers, so tremendous and life changing in the way that all life changing occurrences are.

There has been sadness recently, the type that makes you ask questions why, and so on.
I won't exploit this issue though, just wish peace to all of those who have been affected, as I myself will try to do so.

The holidays are coming soon.
It's funny to remember what it was like last year when the nesting sensation was new.
Holidays before then hadn't been very enjoyable.
I remember one particular holiday when I had just purchased the old house and was left alone by company on Christmas Eve so sped home from the bus station and watched romantic movies and got a belly ache from roasted beets. It was dreadfully lonely in the old house, but special in a way.
My memory, my treasure.
On Christmas morning Perri Perks and I walked over to visit Ron Lord, the Birthday Girl, and the Mayor, but not before we had a morning coffee listening to CBC's Orchestra rendition of the Messiah.
Beautiful.
But things, they change and quickly.
Last year marked the first year with eight feet, and next year there will be ten.
So this holiday season we will enjoy the last remaining bit of subtlety in the holiday season. We will put our eight feet up one more time and string cranberries and popcorns while we secretly stuff goodies into our homemade stockings and eat fine cheeses, enjoy the snowy sights and the quiet.

O the quiet.

Change come, that inevitable turning of tides and events that thrusts you into new places.
I remember those ugly changes too, as much as the beautiful and exciting one's.
And while when it's ugly, the change is hard to reconcile, it isinevitable because it maps our human experience, just as all of the good has.

So I guess that this holiday season I wish everyone peace in all of the changes good and bad that have occurred this past year, and that whatever is to come in 2010 is, after awkward or difficult, manageable, even welcome and enjoyable.

Pictures of Siberia to follow.

Until I am outside in my Parka with my big black dog,

JP

Culinary Art & Offputting Behaviours

2009-11-24T15:35:00.000-05:00

Meddlers you're salivating over this; I'm revealing myself in part, to ward you away.
I find recent revelations frustrating, and far beyond my capacity to describe without swearing.
So I will vent, meddlers, at YOU.

The Difference Between Adults and Children:

As adults, and unlike children, we have the ability to make decisions for ourselves based exclusively on our personalvalue system. Working on the assumption that said value system is moral (according to some universal guidelines) why not STEP THE F*** BACK, meddler, and let said adult do their job in trust.

Once upon a long time ago and still in certain cultures, young people made important and valuable decisions that decided the fate of themselves and others. EEEEEEE GOD, a wild revelation, meddlers, but TRUE TRUE TRUE. And guess what? Sometimes it works out, sometimes...

Respect:
Have you none? Is it so hard to come by?
Do you not trust and therefore cannot respect?
What do you need to let go of to find respect?

Have you been done wrong?
Your morals, have they been compromised because of something I have done?
No!?!?

Well then kindly STEP THE F*** BACK, meddler.

Because:
Because I know I/we nice, meddler.
And in fact can count on my hands the number of times I have tried unsuccessfully to reach out and integrate into your meddling oddities, but in a neutral way....cause I/we neutral.
We diplos.

This taste, divine!
This style, divine!
Your point, I understand!
ETC ETC

But guess what, meddler, I'm not in accordance when you're f***ing with my s***
and with my family, whom I am entitled to protect.
Because I love and ruhspect, ma famillie.

JASUS, this grief make me tired.
Make my belly protrude further out and make me want to make crawl under space beneath my desk.

Let's talk food, happier revelations!!!

Baking by James Peterson, have you looked at this book?
I've created a seven day sour dough starter, and learned all about the chemistry of bread!
And quick breads, did you know their wonder and ease?
Scones are simple and elegant, muffins, fantastic...
all when you follow the recipe, which unfortunately I have never done prior to this new desire to overthrow the baking empire of Mageet.

I will never be as good as Mageet, at least not for sometime.

Corn cakes with shredded paprika chicken and avocado
Sticky BBQ'd ribs with celeriac and walnut salad and traditional rice pilaf, which did you know has broken linguine noodles in it? It's true.

I guess I like to eat when I'm stressed.

Until the days are longer or sooner,

JP

Writing Class

2009-11-02T13:00:00.001-05:00

I used to take this writing class where the instructor would encourage me to write more of what was happening around characters in my stories.

I have this tendency to get swallowed by myself.

Today hovers on the line of day break and twilight, you know those early November days.
The sky is wispy and the leaves are all fallen; it's mostly quiet.

I'm reminded of this strange dream I had this morning were there was a hidden shark infested water hole that our boat had been ship wrecked to. The conditions were very rough but I decided to dive into the cold to retrieve a red canoe that had sunk deep into the dangerous waters.

Throughout my dive, which was not actually shark infested at all, I was delighted to find a secret portal into a dry (but underwater) department store, where I fondled red wedge shoes and delicate fashions from up and coming designers.

When I awoke I was groggy and restless and immediately in search of online affirmation;
realized dreams, you speaking some strange psychological language to me?
And then I looked at job boards and dreamed for hours of working abroad.

November, you are one of those bitch seasons.
I remember many, November, and you always evoke in me plans to escape.

Where to:
Interested in Caribbean islands, specifically Barbados and St Lucia
Italy
St Elsewhere...

The surround of November:

Ian Brown's Boy in the Moon
a book I devour with oily black espresso and a racing mind, this man can write sentences to knock em dead. Gruff Globe reporter, one of the many from the boys club of yore, I bet.

Using leftover applesauce to make butter squash soup
Tasting, hoping, tasting, hoping that it won't end up tasting too fusion-y and dessert-like.

Avoiding bathing dog
Cause he smells like a barn that has a swamp bubbling through the middle of it.
Damn the hose for busting, and damn the damn hot water tap in the upstairs tub for not working because..

Wanting bath of my own
But cannot do that here, not until there is cash abundance.

And yet just last month we thought of so many things to be thankful for:

Laundry laundered, CHK
Flowers and plants watered, CHK
Dinner dreamed of and possible, CHK
Bed linens fresh, CHK
Domesticity mildly adept and steadfast, CHK
Morality " ", CHK

This afternoon it is my quest to do like that Huey Lewis and the News song and...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_BVYgA-ZnM&feature=fvst

Planet Perks

2009-10-14T12:37:00.000-04:00

Machu Picchu, the gateway to spiritual renderings and body work.
It's been raining here, hard and relentless;
drenching a life time of forgetting into wild manifestations.

Listless sleep on neither right nor back nor belly.
Imagining Esme climbing, yourself upwards to hilly exhilaration and vomiting.

Are you really happening

Machu Picchu that place I've never seen
Vows, and jungles away

I wish on eyelashes and synchronized times
The pendulum swing to period.

Autumn Awareness

2009-09-14T14:51:00.000-04:00

I can hardly deal with the beauty;
HENRY IF YOU REALLY LOVED ME YOU WOULD GIFT ME THESE COCLICOS!!
J goddamn K

UGH....

2009-09-01T11:47:00.000-04:00

One thing I like about today:
jasmin green tea instead of coffee.
Good idea, JP.

One thing I don't like about today:
When people call breakfast, brekkie
UGH!
It's not adorable, it's AUSTRALIAN, no?

Just sitting here at my computer biting my fingernails and drinking some eau de source..
My mind is racing:
Should I run for Council in 2010?
And WTF is up with this Michael Bryant case?

If I go for Council, much more organizing I tell you.
I cannot find any of my University records anywhere.
Careless Joe, Momma HP used to call me.

I'll also need a proper office.
AHEM....

Then there is the wardrobe conflict;
very conservative dress and pant suits I don't like.
Can I pull this off without looking clownish?

I shall look to some role models:
1. Her Worship, EA - - has been photographed in cowboy boots and ten gallon hats.
2. Fatima Boujaneh, youngest female Councillor of Rural Tata commune in Morraco

September is here; time for heady decisions and apples!

This labour day long weekend, I remind all of you:
IT IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO WEAR WHITE!

Until the next,

Doily.

FYI Ima Voracious Reader

2009-08-27T20:12:00.000-04:00

IMA VORACIOUS READER
Did you know?

I read constantly.
Atwood, the other day in an interview was saying things like:
O yes, I'm a voracious reader. I read subway cars, internet news, posters, the like..

Well, PHEW!
I was getting scared as I was thumbing my way through Finnegan's Wake

'cause it's Frightening, no?
And I didn't feel very voracious, rather stchoopid.

Anyways, I'm fumbling through these pages of demented Irish dialect thinking, am I reading this?
Then I put it down, paced a bit, and picked up the Two Mrs Grenville's and then (GULP)
an unnamed book by Plum Sykes.
PLUM SYKES!
Who am I?
A voracious reader, that's who.

In related/creepy news, Dominick Dunne died the day after I borrowed TMG's!!
How odd.

But then a very special book arrives and takes the edge off:
The Almond Picker by Simonetta Agnello Hornby
So I'm back to intriguing fiction and will likely drop the Plum.

These days...
There is never enough BLT in my life, NEVER.
When the short seasons come, so do the cravings for rich and satisfying comfort foods.

And one chilly Thursday recently I tried so hard to send Henry telepathic brain waves about Top of the Rock Pizza but he was bass fishing, and alas, no pizza.

Can you tell my guts have not been satisfied today?

It's a rainy Saturday, late August.
Everyone has forgotten summer and is now bracing themselves for sweater socks.
I have just this morning drooled over several bath tub variety.

MY GOD ANOTHER RENO COMING.

Thoughts and Wishes to the farmers who lost their plenty in the tornado, Touties.

Until the Empires,

JP

Rest in Peace

2009-08-19T13:33:00.000-04:00

Forever my favourite farmer.
My true love and blood will swirl around you with your ashes
until it is my day too.

Preserving Jars and Memories

2009-08-10T13:48:00.000-04:00

The dirty C eats at Gramps.
The work and legacy of his life time sits unkempt and weedy in 100 acres.
I go over to the farm while he is having his treatments. I walk the back lot with the black dog and notice a fellow farmer has hayed his one field into approximately 15 tidy round bales.
There is a meaty turkey vulture perched on top of one bale which delights PAP into a short chase.
I see the farm, this intricately woven maze of secrets and history, waiting for its master to come home.
Tell us one more time old man. Please.
Tell me that you want to be weeding out the raspberry bushes.
Like a stubborn man you swing your hatchet and pile wood high

In your hospital bed I feel your strong & beautiful hard working hands grip onto mine,
and we pile our history like your wood.
I go to your berry patch, long down the loamy slopes to the sun burnt gully.
We pick until our hands are stained.
Not the greatest crop this year
but
you know it cause it wasn't done your way, and the rain got bad, the temps too low
and you got sick with C.

Quiet hands-can man;
The berries went to an old clasp lid jar,
and I poured a heap of sugar over top of them and stirred it around some.
They say six months before you have a fancy liquor like chambord.
but I say it takes a lifetime.

To the classiest guy I know,
Raspberry liquor I toast
To our blood and belonging.

Keyless Entry

2009-07-22T14:44:00.000-04:00

I wish the mailbox had keyless entry.
I seem to lose a set every week.
Where do the keys go?
I imagine a night time key march to the hollows of the Parker Lodge, for poker and tits.
I dunno, this is crazy.

I know it's only mails (see: bills) I'm missing, and that is likely why the uncharacteristically high bank balance right now.

We've turned stones upside down around the house.
We've even looked inside display cups and saucers.

This is, as I mentioned, CRAZY.
Next step is going to the PO and admitting I am brainless, and dealing with the PO official looking at me and thinking 'What an awful shame that girl is so burned out she loses her mail keys every week.'
I'm going to blame it on the dog.

In happy news, I, Bigfoot.
Have you looked at this book?
Was recently re-reminded of its hilarity when scoping out Library blogs.

People think me Chewbacca sometimes
NO!
Me have job.
Bad, wookie.
BAD.

This is hilarious, no?

Ps: I call it a Li-BRAR-y
Lieberries are in your garden, perhaps?

Hedonist Retreat

2009-07-18T11:34:00.000-04:00

The hedonist retreat is a very clever name to a picture that was recently purchased in the LES Gallery.
We're showing Adult Contemporaries, the art show I am italicizing, for the month on July and August inclusive. What a terrific feeling to showcase fresh and upcoming artists rather then retirees - not that I take issue with retiree artists, just that they dominate and (sometimes) bore me with their incessant landscape water colours and oils. I love the stimulation from this show; the multi media, the various questions, the sense of vicissitude. I could go on, but this autumnal Saturday (in July) demands too much of my devoted work time.

Lots of things to convey however.
so briefly will gloat and ponder.

First:
Car - there is a new one in my driveway (and a boat???)
I took the Sandy Ole Sand Wagon off the road recently and my heart and independence bleed away.
Will I become the dreadful norm now that I have a car that shines and a straight life?
I hope these conventional changes don't add affect on my imagination and my soul.
I could never do with the emptiness and under stimulation of normalcy..
I drove with Henry last night and felt like too much of a god forsaken messola to be inside something so polished.
I like it though, kind of.
It represents something that has always seemed so unachievable and abstract to me - like is it really so necessary to define yourself by your transportation vessel?
I think bicycle best describes me in transit, or fleet footed (in a forest)
How to make sense of this mechanical engineering, blood oil, and greed?

But the new machine is safer in the Siberian winters before us.
Heat works, gas mileage substantially more efficient then in the previous vessel.
Therefore protecting our Mama Eart?
Two less vehicles on the road guzzling fuel?

Anyway she is a manual transmission TDI
Midnight blue - reminds me of Audrey Horne for some reason, but I thought it would be best to name her Gladiola so that Henry could call her Glad, which is how she is suppose to make us feel.
I will update progress in this department, as we have not bonded yet.

In more interesting news earlier this week we got to watch a Neko Case concert in Avening, Ontario at the Avening Community Centre (which as a two lane bowling alley in the basement!)
There were 130 people inclusive at this event and I was in such awe I cried several times while listening to the goddess of song. I might add that I ADORE Kelly Hogan too.
If it were not for Kelly's fantastic vocal support, Neko shows would not be the same.
Since this concert I have been a dummy for Neko AND Martha Wainwright.
It's just the right time for Martha Wainwright now for some reason.
Maybe I can finally appreciate her folksy Kate Bushy lilling because it sounds chilly like the weather.
Sweater sock music.

Soon I will be wearing sweater socks again.
I have been dealing with this for 48 hours.
I have decided things needed to maximize autumn/winter enjoyment are:
1. Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes series BBC <>
2. Edwardo N**ton's claw foot tub that is currently mildewing at the rich man's unfrequented *cabin
3. Regular viewing of objects that make me happy such as: evergreens, Maggie's Chair, the painting next to my side of the bed, Maira Kalman images and Perri Aliosius Perks from puppy to present.
4. many hot saunas
5. many cakes double long espressos on the weekends only.

But for now it is today in JULY and I won't think myself to October.
I will enjoy this summer salad compose of tofus and asparagus
And more Martha Wainwright.

Until Soony be soon,
It be Juney be June

JP

Stop Carrying out your Intentions and Watch for my Signals.

2009-06-06T12:36:00.000-04:00

Currently we're in the throws of summer programming, hence the lack o communication.
In fact this very minute instead of enjoying the likeness of blog land, I should be working out program schedules and etc, BUT MJ DIED.
Who has been able to focus since this news broke?

In other domestic news:
There is a sixteen foot day sail boat in my driveway.
How do such things happen?
Destined to become a sailor?
I've been learning how to read sail flags <<<>> all Friday long.
You might notice the subject line of my post; I'm going to use this line IRL also.

YESH, should be working.
YESH

What else, all of these book talks and sp. events to plan:
Erika Ritter
Deidre Kelly
somemoremysteriousauthorswithnamesicannotrecall
Green Fair
Barn Yard hootenanies

More on the domestic side of things:

1.Vines to be transplanted to Ron Lords property, The Law Maker gives me one year heads up
<<>>
2. Rocket and spinach doing well this year despite that the soil does not make the triple mix grade
3. Dahlias unhappy about it though, and poor, poor peonies
4. Smoked beer butt chicken
5. Notorious BIG while doing chores. Manoman.

Long live Biggie and MJ

JP

Sudden Ray of Hope

2009-04-29T16:46:00.000-04:00

Remember this Mercury Rev song:

You bring a sudden ray of hope that comes with
every lightning bolt, I love to watch them go up
in smoke. You bring a soft summer smile, come in
every once in a while, I wish you'd go the extra
mile for me tonight.

This song is brill with the sunshine and the bloom.
I am reminded of being fifteen at the picnic point of Moose Park, facing the cold splashy breeze from the Georgian Bay. Fifteen seems forever ago.
Swing sets, innocence, smokes.
The suddenness of seasonal change make me reckon.

This past weekend cbc two featured a very unusual program;
John Cage speaking on mushroom identification.
I have this sneaking suspicion the great hunt will commence this weekend.
Leek are abundant, will cook with them tonight.
After that I will see about the fiddleheads - something tells me now is just the right time.
Will shortly post photo's, as the contrast of before bloom is spectacular first seen green against flat taffy and sediment.

O you delicious season of beginning and excitement!

Five favourites to look forward to at home:
1. Keith Jarret records
2. seeing the seedlings
3. before dinner hike
4. Foraging for dinner
5. whatever is for dessert

Until the plate drops,

JP

Hot Tomatoes, Urban Chickens!

2009-04-23T19:34:00.001-04:00

They say that the temperatures will rise to twenty degrees Celsius tomorrow.
Touts, frantically I search through online catalogues trying to decide what to wear this warm season, but get discouraged when I get to the gladiator sandals. Do you like? I don't. I am happy with my tree trunk gams and wish not to accentuate the muscle mass. I don't understand the trend. Conquering shoes; do I want to feel like a battle wounded Roman man? Nonononononono.

In less mundane musings, my famille has been reading up on the backyard homesteading movement and to our delight, Meaford allows urban chickens! Once we have the fence erected it is in our plans to make a cosmopolitan chicken dwelling (chicken condos perhaps?) Perri will be the concierge.

Seeds have been started; we're six heirloom tomato varietys to everyone else's 60, but no bigs, I'm happy with our black krims. We're wildly imagining what life will be like when we have tasty vegetables again.

Living the urban rural dream.

Check out these links:
http://www.urbanchickenunderground.blogspot.com/
http://www.urbanchickens.net/

Cock-a-doodle-doo

JP

Bird Song Francais

2009-04-16T19:18:00.000-04:00

Pierres qui Roulent.Perri Leche ma Main.

J'huile mon Velo.

Les oiseaux chantent a huit heures.

On Wayfaring

2009-04-09T14:20:00.000-04:00

Slow walk up this morning, heels dragging through the rest of winter.
Frosted squawky gulls circling the black dog and the burned picnic table.
Cold rocks chkkking underneath quick waves.
I'm off in India.
I'm nothing somewhere else.
Longitudinal prowess.

No more salty highways, recession cure-alls, sticky fingers.
I'm nothing elsewhere, stranger.
Spice and water
Undeniable tongues of yore.
Complicated belonging
Tough tits.

Paniculatas

2009-03-07T16:01:00.000-05:00

Three cheers for the paniculatas variety of hydrangea!
The peegee tree!
The cold climate cone!
Today, Perri at my feet and fever on my forehead, I am exploring the great possibilities that await, as another growing season is before us. On a drizzly walk this morning there was discussion of landscape, which has got me thinking a lot about staking claim. There is a fence to be erected in spring, and lengthy discussion about what, once boundaries are established, will become the essence of us. I have always felt strongly about gothic back yard gardens that have hazy black cloud poppies and petunias, save the grandeur for the front, the facade that it is; in the front beds plant white majestic things like lupins and hydrangeas. Offset the starkness with bursts of pink and red; sweet william, caledula, etc. Does such a garden create not an intoxicating mystery? I think so. But then there is the ever inevitable fact that because fence goes up, do neighbours go away? No they don't. Neighbours are the beer guzzling neanderthals who chain smoke outside and, no matter what the fence size, will investigate goings on hell or high water. So should the garden become a prickly and impenetrable cookie cut rendition of all Parker facades, just so they say heelo to us? Therein lies the question. Do you make your master work in town, in front of the hoardes of nosey small towners, or do you wait in vain for the ever fickle possibility of country side? Of acerage and acerage and acerage and ZERO spoiled scenes. I can see the peace offering garden take shape; it is, as Henry says, full of hostages, the most far out thing is the hens and chickens sprouting from the rocks. There is no fence in the peace offered garden, maybe instead community vegetables and moonlight horse shoes with She and He. For now though, I will rest on my zone 5 laurels and germinate some chamomile so I calm down.

Ever After with Feve,

JP

JP

Excitable Light

2009-02-18T12:48:00.000-05:00

All,
Confident that the wandering for food will begin again soon.
CONFIDENT that I will be the number one mushroom huntress of the Geo Tri come spring.
It's coming, this weekend I could smell it and see it,
Spring.

I noticed a new lightness to the morning; beautiful picture light that dusts sepia and mystery from the bay and forest. Excitable light that means things are thinking about thawing, including my supremely icy heart.
Maximum ice, maximum melt.
I love me a light morning.

To celebrate this new sea of possibility we started germinating basil and rosemary and chives.
Started laying on the primer, covering up the paint Henry calls nicotine shade.
The new colours will be easier on the eyes. Piedmont Grey is the shade of my fav swatch;
it makes me think of delicious food and wine, and will, coincidentally, be on my dining wall.
Preparing the room yesterday was funny;
Old trim bits allocated to different window and door treatments
Will's room in messy cursive pencil.
O the history of home.

Finally the historical smell from the curtains has been removed.
No more sadness stuck in fabric.
Instead replaced with dog and garlic?
Lavender and black pepper?
I wonder what my house smells like?

Family day was lovely.
Went hiking up the river with Muv and Farv and Hen
People get so happy outside.

Farv even discovered wooden steps up the steep icy incline to the east of the trail.
WE BUSHWHACKED!
Muv was laughing like a school girl.
She tells me to be mindful of those who are in their 50's, and then she prances around like a spring lamb.

Salt of the Earth, these people.

Bringing you more sunshine every day,

JP

C'est Moi en Hiver

2009-01-24T12:56:00.000-05:00

Take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty;
Take me home.

Holly Joliday

2009-01-02T16:31:00.000-05:00

The title of this post is a sham.
In fact it is stolen by me, from the wits of Judy Moody's author, whoever Mcdonald.
I think Judy Moody is clever.

Only a few holiday scars remain;
one on my index, and one on my left middle finger.
Otherwise it was special and enjoyable.

The scars came from a champagne flute I crushed in my hand on January 1
I must have been trying to count the vodkas I had drunk the night before, and became terrorfied by the tally.

2009.
I don't much care for the number nine.
I like eight.
I like writing eights and making 8's, but nine I guess will have to do for the year.

Did I enter the year with indifference?
No.
I entered the year with hope.

Hope for steadfast love and the maintenance of a strong self.

It is sometimes frightening and always humbling that our ground can shake like it does.
Our own tectonic plates that shift and slide down different roads and towns.

Two thousand and eight was a year for those kinds of occurrences,
and you roll with the punches.

When I get to a hurdle, C or J or L or M are at another one entirely.
And so you cannot worry
and you cannot regret
and you cannot guilt

And it is funny to me that when you are in one safe spot that is filled with love and security that you will not.

So welcome new breath and new times ahead, whatever you hold.

The pictures above demonstrate my utter lack of photo sav;
John Henry spooning out dark chocolate and tangerines
The half lit tree
And Perri as Baboushka.

December Song

2008-12-17T11:07:00.000-05:00

Reflective and pinching pockets.
Recession supper is the canned chestnuts and crab meat we forgot about when we last felt the fresh food luxury.
Strip Loins were prepared for bachelor nights.
Exotic cheese and olive oil was used in haste.

For the holidays ahead, peasant food, pantry food.
Homemade macaroni and cheese with dried up thyme
Shortbreads with garden lavender.
Dads too sweet spies for vinegar and sauces.

We're using things, and it feels more like living.

In previous weeks, in spite of our sleepy December faces, we have been quite busy with good old stuff.
Bawthroom nearly fineeshed (in horrid British accent please)
Adult skating with C&T!
to music!
with a 'luncheons' afterwards
AND hot chocolate!

Friday we will karaoke at the Legion and likely walk around with flasks carrying our screech.
Pictures to follow.

What else?
O yes a question;
when will the budding orchid bloom?
And will the amaryllis EVER show us her colour?

Until soon, and only time will tell.

JP

Blood in the Snow & Ihor Calls the Boblio

2008-11-28T15:55:00.001-05:00

Today I am stirred.
First it was the wrenching AM of meetings and baby rhyme time, and then it was followed by fielding vineland questions on the reference desk.

Ihor wanted to know all about the Baco grapes, because he finally admits that the Pinot dream, and the ice wine, is far too romantic then practical; this is what you get when your vineland is in a cold climate.

We talked about how fabulous is the Coffin Ridge near Owen Sound, and my heart pinched just a little;
always dreaming I am the lady in the red kerchief and tatty dress, alone in a windy field with pruning sheers in hand.

I almost had the noive to ask my old papa if I could plant vines on his land in the spring, but we got caught up talking about the shower everyone else but me is tileing - 'you could play a game of cards in here' is what we concluded. Here is what I conclude; I will bake my papa a raisin pie for christmas, we will sit in front of the wood stove looking out the window, and that is when I'll make the suggestion. For now vineland remains a more barren version of itself, sheltered from snow storms but NOT from deer.

In other news, great fall hiking now that the fear of the rifle has been swapped with BOW ENTHUSIASM.
The dogs and family hiked the Bruce and found blood in the snow.

November chins way up, touts.

Until victory,

JP

In November

2008-11-21T20:04:00.000-05:00

Hoeeeee!
Howl!

Growl.

For a short while, this is November...
And we are animals seeking warmth and comfort.

Pocket Coils

2008-11-20T16:05:00.000-05:00

Hattie makes an appearance;

she is stark and with woeful wintry eyes cast downward.
The toes of her boots are wet.
'Fix me afore travellin', missus?'
Aye.
Aye followed by and by those intricate histories of adolescence you have woven.
Nay.
and so forth.

The Hollow waters run like black marbles in November;
everyone stirred, searching for belonging and bedfellows.

Seismic waves

I want to dance though.
Black to-and-fro-dress and fox collar.
Wispy eyes, snow flakes tumbling.

Miriam Makeba Monday

2008-11-10T08:11:00.000-05:00

Awoke to sadness and snowfall this morning, Miriam Makeba died.
Rest in peace beautiful music and beautiful mind.

Cocktail Rings & Deer Season

2008-11-03T09:45:00.000-05:00

Vanity Insanity.
I want nice hair and this cocktail ring.
I want a strapless abstract rose print dress to wear with my mulled wine in a snifter this holiday season.

Reality, reality.

The hunters have started again.
Today is the day.
People must be careful when in the woods, for more then just riflerous reasons.
For examp;
Perri gets 12 quills

We lose daylight/ground
and only have apples

But everything works out
except in the morning when you wake heavy with the grog
the rifle awareness hits you
and there you are in a just rising town with weirdly wired anglers/hunters
driving around like its f***ing Christmas morning.

You're remembering Henry telling you about the deer barracks against the hills;
If you're in the bush and you see a hillside with broken long grass, that is where deer burrow for the night.
I paraphrase, Henry said it more eloquently, then pointed me to one of those hunt stands that was in the direct line-o-feu of the deer barrack.
Poor Bamb.

So I was thinking...
somehow I lure the deer to me and put orange caution jackets on them
AND
instead of a buck caller, I'll get hunter caller
It would be something like this;
Hoeeeee! I got whiskey and a git-outta-jail-free-card from the ball-in-chain.
Strap this recording around Bamb's neck
VIOLA
spared the senseless killing
and dick jokes.

What is more important, Touts...
The cocktail ring
or Bamb?

The only think I am hunting for?
Bargains.
Bargain cocktail rings.

Until Victory,

JP

8 Feet

2008-10-29T10:07:00.001-04:00

Hokey Dina
snow flies.

I am reptilian, scaly
shedding the summer skins
and becoming
J Frost

There is enough house work to stay busy this winter
Showers to tile yet
walls to paint
fences to scheme
& saunas

In the down time there will be the
Badda Bing and epicuriosity
O yeah and RIP, Puss

8 feet
12 feet
14 actually.

Suffering Succotash....
Hang on to the wits, JP

In closing, I will share a simple strudel recipe I mastered on Monday:

8 Organic Spies (pref from my dad, just ask me if you're close by)
Sautee spies on low setting in:
maple syrup (2 tbsp-ish)
Bourbon (MM) (2 tbsp-ish)
Light oil (1 tbsp-ish)
Grate:
Cinnamon
Ginger Root
Cloves

Then.....

Stuff into Philo and make strange abstract designs
dust with egg

and bake for only 25 minutes

Voila!
Suddenly you are even best(er) friends with Grandma Floss
Dad's favourite girl..
Badda Bing!

Long Live Country Life

2008-10-20T16:24:00.000-04:00

Spent the weekend in the country with some of the best people the world offers (as well as dogs).

There was:

the elusive stone licker, shadow chaser and the garbage man who became fast friends.

Big bear dumps and broken branches

Beautiful autumn food

cozy fires and scotch whiskey

Pretty Kawarthas

What a weekend.
I felt like I needed to re-evaluate my goals, to re-appreciate my life
I do now.

Reflection.

I don't currently live among urbanity, but find still that working in public environs, as well as living in town can cause to some tremendous stress'

And O, endurance...
Sometimes Henry is worthy of a metal.

We returned from a sunny and quiet car ride home,
doggers in the back seat, brittle in the glove compartment.
I was sated and showered and feet kicking cozy.

Long live the country life.

Our Conservative MP

2008-10-17T12:00:00.000-04:00

Well SURPRISE!
He won again.

Meet Pizza-the-Hut from Spaceballs;
he is our Conservative MP also known as LM
If you threw in two more letters, 'A' and 'E', perhaps you would get the full LM experience - LAME.

And with the now imminent Canadian recession....
Kowabunga.

Farmers like LAME because LAME farmed cattle before he began his tenure farming us.

True, true he is part of the NEC.
But what of his views on the Canadian Armed Forces?
Scary .

So here we are, same as we were one week ago to this day, but with less money in our pocket.

Mon Dieu.
Mon Dieu.

These days it is a lot of:
Driving home in the dusk
Rediscovering Hall and Oates
Yellow and Orange
Scotch Whiskey
& Badda Bing on DVD.

From Conservative Country,

JP

Recession Dress

2008-10-10T14:01:00.001-04:00

Calamity Jane!
I need a recession dress.

I am flooded with images of my dirty opaque tight-ed knees;
Michael Kors evening gown and spade.
A beehive doo and blushens, while sweating over the purple potato rows.

What to wear in a recession?
What to wear?

As always, these days I am wishing that I made up the Canadian component of the Woman's Land Army.
That's right, the digging for victory when all that is victorious is in the ground.
Fennel bulbs and horseradish stalk peeking out, they will sure be tasty;
but what is the root of all malaise is the external, the affect -
the numbers one through one hundred million (or billion) in world finances.
The risk of trade.

I listened to a favourite Willie N song earlier in the week
and imagined brokers vomiting into their Starbucks.

What to wear in a recession?
Coal smudges on my face?
Holes in my stockings?

Will hipsters WW adopt sour(er) runway looks for catwalk?
Bohemian chic has been a popular look in recent years,
perhaps now is the time to mix this with the look of
broken business?

Calamity Jane.

This weekend I will sow Russian Garlic.
This weekend a patchwork dress from scraps,
no heat except our own heat under the blankets.

Hell or high water, Hen
we're staying warm this winter.
Spuds in the ground; garlic, calendula
Sleeping through the sexiest recession the WW has ever known.

Until Victory.

2008-10-10T14:01:00.000-04:00

Who I am See Wit (on Fridays)

2008-09-26T14:58:00.000-04:00

I dunno.
Just look at him.
He is guy Friday.

If only he would walk by the bobby window maintenant
I would follow in suite.

I took it all for granted, but how was I to know
That you would be letting go?
Now it cuts like a knife
but it feels so right

What is behind BA's words?

This week...tedious

Started nicely with Yoga class and excellent salad with Caity,
but really went to the toilet (or not actually) when the monsteronius Perri went out filling his canine cast iron
with garbage.

Mopping floors
Slipping on vomit
Getting wasteoid on Perrier and Stolichnya
Ho-De-Hum.

I bet the Boomers find life glamorous,
at least for sure BA does.

Renovations: Once was a Wall

2008-09-23T13:08:00.000-04:00

That was the wall where your keyboard was, D.
I think later when you got more computers, it was an alternate work station.
I remember a homemade work bench and extension cords.
Your six million compact discs.

Henry wants to keep the walls bare, stripped.
It is a good hang out spot I think.

Last night I learned about Japanese saws.
If I was not informed, I probably would have tried to flip eggs with the Ryoba.

I told Hen that he should write book about tools and woodworking terminology.
Again if I had not been informed about it, I probably would have thought a dove tail was gobbledygook about bird anatomy.

Slowly the house starts to take on its character.
Three weeks ago Dad broke my pocket hammer and I have yet to toss it away.
Instead I will shadow box;

The trials and tribulations of place.

Grind Ode

2008-09-08T10:35:00.000-04:00

Should have sucked it up and become a proper farmer.
But Wait!
Doctor wants me to keep her bees when she goes on Doctor sabbatical later this year.
Anyone want to help?

I swear her honey is the best in the Geo Tri, and that stings only hurt as much as you imagine them to, which is not as much as the sting of chastising when you work in the public sphere.

O Bobby...

Best call Doc and see what she prescribes.

Monday, Monday
Cannot trust this day.

Stratford Trap

2008-09-02T12:28:00.000-04:00

Just how glorious was it?
Glorious.

A culinary delight;
a gem of a spot that serves delicious espresso and home stuff.

Have returned from a final summer huzzah in Stratford, On
I guess there is still much summer left, but maybe not in the way of travel and etc.

Now there is the reality of renovations:
The cost.
The stress from cost.
The neck problems from stress
etc

My thoughts remind me of this Luis Bunel film I watched once, The Exterminating Angel
Inside this Italian (or French) parlour room, all of these wealthy chumps sit around after the opera, then when they try to leave at the end of the night, they can't get to the door, they don't know why.
They just can't leave.

The Stratford Trap.
We are not the foppy Euro chums, but the middle class dreamers wishing we could afford the Cuvee prestige and Emil Henri.

I bought tongs, and wanted not to leave
ever.

Truly Bobliocentric

2008-08-26T19:30:00.000-04:00

Delicious autumnal Boblio nights spent dreaming of soft cheese and soily reds.
In truth I eat Habitant and devour Julia and Jacques smut.

When the non-booty but buoyant salmons go up river soon,
I will be there to find one for gravlax.

Gravlax for the King and I!
Gravlax:
the gastronomic equivalent to a rock from Tiff's

But wait....
What about oysters?

Huitres:
the gastronomic equivalent to
A NAVY BLUE LONGCHAMP PLIAGE TOTE
+ long stem (classic plaid) Burberry Umbrella.

O!
O, vanity - - insanity.

Vineland be Gone

2008-08-23T17:11:00.001-04:00

Amazing (and hardly surprising) developments.
The Law Maker is going to doze over vineland.
I am ok with this for now because I have hardly enough
wisdom
or patience
or time.

Here is a poetic rendition of my final moments as up and coming Mme:

I with the tired eyes and dress
post apoc storm clouds and apple bins
after midnight
chilly whiskey
shaky trees

Oncle meet ogre.
foot meet apple crate;
meet territory and entitlement.

Oncle meet tired eyes and crappy dress
meet ends meet.

Meet final decisions
and not forgetting the good ideas in the future when there is settlement.

Crappy dress, tired eyes...
Fridges to buy
intimate geographies to explore

Showers to tile.
Books to file.

When I am old and proper;
wine make me wait.

*Note I will continue writing ViaCC as VinCC, however subject may cover any of the numerous du jours such as: home improvement, architecture, bird, dog, wolf, boar, bear and other natural observations, food, and miscellany, trails, love, wood, fires, etc.

TTFN Touts.

Joining

2008-08-15T12:37:00.000-04:00

This joint or appendage,

bound.
It had broken several days earlier,
and there was some discontent for it;
saw dust kicks, dirty work boots, scuffing

On the other end of the wire
She was awash over
Exposed flesh at the bullseye;
she and he

Timeless renditions of interlock;
Ploughed field, post war.
face up on a knitted thing, eyes on the cosmos
and devotion.

You are outside yourself
Unit tensile strength strong

And that lingering feeling;
does the work remain:
methodical
piecemeal and intricate
Total?

Like waves lapping
and expanding
and contracting

The wood work binds,
reforms and fits

To make strong structures.

The Seasonal Ode

2008-08-07T10:15:00.000-04:00

Months Without R-ku:

Sums it up nicely

This delicious unknowing

Meet you at trail head.

The Meat of Domestic Bovine

2008-07-30T12:33:00.000-04:00

Cher Touties,
Today I offer you wisdom in dealing with bureaucracy.
First let me say that I have trouble spelling the word, and so have devised a clever way of remembering it in future: Cold (Bur) Water en Francais (Eau) Cracy (Grecian loan word).
Seems kind of silly, but what of it if it makes me remember.
Last anecdote, swear;
I google imaged 'bureaucracy'
the reoccurring theme in my findings, you might wonder?
Grey walls and angry faces.

Today the walls around me are grey, my face angry.
I don't really think one should be allowed the world wide web to broadcast individual boeufs, but make just one exception for me please, on this day.

When the lowly chalk suckers of federal/provincial government hammer down their rendition of law, please make sure you deal swiftly, less you wish to face the
WRATH OF IMPLICATIONS.

What kind of wrathful implications can one expect?
You name it, really.
The speed at which will startle you;
Bad to absolute worst in a season.

So how does the average Plain Jane deal with such *implications?
She sits on hold, on hold, on hold.

But wait!
Be it hell and high water, stay on and read between
THE LINES.

I refuse to give over my hard earned money so that they can build new offices and employ miserable people in air conditioning.

Appeal
Appeal
Appeal with Grace.

Appeal in a white Chanel pant suit from middle 1980's.
Appeal with the bombastic tenor of Pavorotti.
Finally, appeal so that your own migraine due-to-stress resides,
so that the thoughtless mucker at the kiosk weeps a gentle tear of defeat.

Stay below the radar, touties.

In Hiding,

JP

Noisy Grass

2008-07-26T14:24:00.000-04:00

A perfect Sunday sounds like noisy grass and Celia Bartoli doing
Sposa by Vivaldi.

I want noisy grass.

It sounds like this: Tssssssssss Tsssssss Tssssss

In the morning when Perri and I walk by the tall ornamental noisy grass, I stop and listen.
I love the noisy grass so much that I wish I had it recorded for car trips and work days.

Tsssssssss Tsssss Tssssss
It sounds so lovely that it makes the Toddy Over dissipate quietly.
It makes it suddenly ok that there are dust bunnies on the floor, sand in the bed
and nothing left in the house.

Except!
Celia Bartoli.

She will be waiting, arms sprawled, on the new couch when I get home from my very long day.
She will not speak, but sing to me and shake blades of noisy grass as I ready for my sandy chamber.

Yes
Yes

I will rest well tonight.

Some Favourites

2008-07-21T11:40:00.000-04:00

Rendering spaces and design concepts.

It all looks good and sounds good when my brain transmits data to King H's,

or it is the wine and carpacio.

Above you will notice a wider range of photographic items.

These are my favourite captured images of late.

Number one complies with my fascination of odd light.

V. Twin Peaks

Number two, my Canoli ku.

A Sunday night tribute to eating Italian and honouring happy times.

Number three, dancing mans!

They live in my front window sill and made me smile this morning.

Jerry Lee Lewis: Killer Tunes

2008-07-16T21:42:00.000-04:00

This is a good night.
The neighbours listen to Jerry Lee Lewis.
The new girl next door sits on the front porch and stares.
It's dusky.

Friends don't let friends drive - drunk.
So the neighbour asks if so and so is okay, and she IS.
She has her mom's car, and discusses her weekend plans to see Crosby Stills in concert.
I want to go with her.

Keys jingle, not hers, but some other driver, also in a mini van.
Lots of kids, so lots of ball this summer.
Slow pitch, that under hand crap.

The trees that border Parker's pavement are dark soldiers.
Standing tall and still.

Jerry sure rips it on the piano.
I find out there is no slang for piano.
Harmonica can be harp, but nothing for the piano?
Baby Grande, the Grande Baebee?
In a french accent please.

Another young girl walks by, talking on her mobile.
Crying.
'I would never call my child a brat, you know?'
Pleading.
Only a brat pleads or cries.

The sound of a can opening.
A new guy on the porch, the party house porch.
Watching me with his legs wide.
I am a smug woodchuck.
Feet crossed in the cherry red recliner.

When are they going to ask me over?

I'll stand on their picnic table.
Crash the party, but in a good way.
Just as I roll in, the REAL party starts.
Puncture beer cans, drink it fast.
What is that game called?

I'd say, why on earth haven't we ever partied on Wednesday night before?

It is nice to meet you, neighbour.

Architectural Indulgence: Hen House

2008-07-15T19:47:00.000-04:00

E: What grows in swamp?
JH: Swamp Blueberry
Swamp Cabbage
Peas, Beans - aren't too picky.
E: Alternately you could raise the beds though?
JH: Yes, E, as high as Mnt Zion.
E: Then we could grow happy tomatoes.

E: Won't the bugs drive you mad?
JH: I will throw rocks at them.
E: I won't, I will shout BEAT IT!
JH: Yes, then they won't bug you.
E: Har Har

E: Wood splitting?
JH: All kinds of it.
A wood pile as intricate as a jigsaw.

E: In the winter I would throw paper airplanes at you from the loft bedroom.
JH: I'd catch them all with my teeth.
E: It would make P mental.

E: Who would we have for dinner?
JH: Anyone who liked racelette and wild caught pigs.
E: You think there are pigs in the bush?
JH: Absolutely I do.
Bigger then you and I.
E: Mean pigs?
JH: Only if you put an arrow through it's heart.

E: I will make us a quilt.
In the middle there will be an arrow through it's heart.
Deal?
JH: I'll make the floor plan.

Sea Dog Blog

2008-07-13T13:28:00.000-04:00

Greetings from Gorgeous New England!
As I write this, I am rolling up one pant leg, and setting to clam dig all afternoon with Hen.
Later tonight we will board one of those famed windjammers for an evening sail,
then settle into Lobster and Sauvignon Blanc back at our cabin.

Tomorrow we will cycle into Portland at some point, to visit LeRoux Kitchen;
hopefully my saddles will hold all of the fine wares we will return with.

Has anyone been to Emerson Books & Antique Maps?
Hear it's fab.

Well, can't really justify writing anything longer than this.
It's simply too divine to be electronic...

Reeking of Privilege,

JP

Beast Regards

2008-07-10T11:43:00.000-04:00

Occasionally I sign off correspondence Beast Regards
Beast Regards is, of course, an error;
but today I'm thinking that perhaps it is a subliminal one?

Allow me to explain.
Last night I was in the skitter infested cedar forest of anon
I was thinking, thinking:
ESCAPE ROUTE

Not escaping the forest, rather, the real world, where I am skirted and cosmopolitan.
And busy.

In the skitter infested cedar forest I am a woman in Rubbers
A trail blazer next to my wood splitting hero.

A Huntress,
Your Huntress.

Best Regards: acknowledging my primitive self?

Beast Regards,

The Huntress.

PS
Found nice skitter rendition here:
http://leomatsuda-blog.blogspot.com

Beaver Valley Outreach

2008-07-09T15:07:00.001-04:00

A gorgeoussimo silver footed cup cake plate.
A mysterious Italian widows scarf.
A near impulsive vest purchase for Dear Hen.

Still searching for copper...

Touties, I promised no shopping, but where is the incentive?
I ask myself.

For when you are as municipal as moi,
your luncheons are very cosmo,
very one hour.

My head this afternoon is in St Elsewhere.
I am longing for patience.
Patience. Patience.

Mind is racing:
1. Weed garden, lazy JP
2. Make strawberry jam, no excuse, you have pectin
3. Launder linens, line dry
4. Dream up delicious arrangement for tomorrow night theme: R&R
5. Tile bathroom (?)
6. Read: The G&M article on migrant African Lumberjacks - from Saturday

But...

The Linden Trees are fragrant today,
and last night, as the lightning flashed, I listened to Puccini's La Boheme.

By lantern, no lights this week.
Enchanted by shadows against the wall, crooked shadows that cast domestic histories.

Love Child sweat shirts
In step with Aretha.

I think I've got stars in my eyes
this summer.

Antique Anatomy

2008-07-07T17:24:00.000-04:00

Antique Anatomy.
Essential Monsters.

On The One Hour Lunch:

2008-07-04T15:10:00.000-04:00

I went strolling in the park.
Pencil skirt, spectacles
Bag of nuts.

It is sunny and cool this summer.
People who think that they are close to farmers complain:
'Wish it wasn't so damn cool all the time.'
I don't think it's too much a problem though.
I like a breeze.

Strolling led me to the forbidden fruit of the antique store.
Searched for thick Mexican throw blanket like the one from my happy Tuesday with JH.
No luck.
BUT did decide on spot a new thing to collect;
Oil Lanterns made in Canada.
Mind has created perfect spot for new collection inside the Gentleman's Parlor.
Imagine the GP:
Slate, paler then slate, gray walls.
Bone white plaster casts of animals mid-roar
Oil paintings depicting before the storm scenarios.
Beautiful hardcover books.
Red chaise lounge for the whores to drape.
Old black oil lamps on top of the record shelving.
Imagine when they are lit,
and I am listening to Odetta in a thunder and lightning storm.

I strolled about town after my guilty indulgence.
Oil lantern laced between my fingers like an old timey widow waiting for her sea dog to arrive home.
Instead though, I was skirted and stuffing face with cashews.

Me O My Imagination, Touts.

Until Tomorrow.

Cake Light

2008-07-02T15:46:00.000-04:00

Much to my chagrin I did loath that Zin
And wished that I had purchased with thought
For impressions are hasty when wine is not tasty
And the old vines were definitely not.

Touts Nico songs swirling around my head. Highway ghosts, alternate routes.
I've been thinking about being more accountable for what I am writing, less - - poetic.
The busy beans of the J months come.
Just passed are the birthdays and gardens
on the horizon:
the weddings, the saying goodbye, and things.

O imminent change, you're alright when you don't knock my feet out.

You may be reading this and wondering what is fabulous.
What is the of-the-moment?
What makes the heart strings sing?
What?

1. Cake light
2. Effort
3. The bistro table, the linen, gleaming/shiny glassware
4. Tent pitched on rock
5. Loverboy - Everybody's working for the weekend
6. TT
7. The road less traveled.
8. Maira Kalman

In Vine Land news, I have noticed some Baco decay, due likely to the harsh winter past.
Foch are going to be moved to the Swarthmore lodge as soon as chance come.
When does chance come?
After church on Sunday,
quite bloody likely.

For the moment, Boblio is a swamp song of summer urgency:

1. Can I get my chillun's reading levels up in two months?
2. Can I?
3. I plan on reading through the 2008 book club selections in two months.
4. Yes, we are looking for a bobby card. We're vacationing for two months.

Reeky privilege.
AT LEAST there remains lemon cake, letter openers, big rain drops
and etc.

A Bientot

2008-06-28T15:23:00.000-04:00

People who sit at the table,
they are the well adjusted one's.
Whatever your table is.

Sand dunes
Slate

Whatever your table is.

For the occasion
his mother receives this bottle of:
Old Vines Zin
Fussed over,
for minutes,
too many to count.

That one, or the Cabernet?

The one not chosen had fetching fonts in red
A horse, and it's master.

The hand however,
it was movement toward:
sturdy vines
many years

and stories.
Histories and generations,
folk legends and lore.

No.
They won't ever forget that time when he held the hammer and helped.
Won't forget delirious smiles crushing mints & lime
Stuffing whole fish with things: lemons and pungents.

Zin, steadfast.
Fill my cup forever and
all around the table:
Mable
Marble
Les autres.

All around the table:
smug like a Woodchuck
rubbing feet
swallowing food and conditions.
Elbows off, not always.

It is,
all of it,
simple and lovely.

Fan Mail

2008-06-27T16:47:00.000-04:00

Dear Tina,

I was thinking the other night about how similar we are. I can't stand the rain either. Not against my window, and especially when they bring back the sweet memories.

Similarities aside, I wanted you to know (in earnest) that I really think you have the greatest gams in NA. I also admire the way you pout your lips, especially on the cover of Private Dancer.

Perhaps you will come over for tea one day?
I bet you drink fennel tea for your vocal cords; you would tell me that the lemon and water myth is just hog wash, just makes your throat scratchier, and THEN I would say 'well consider it TODDY TIME!'

After three Toddies, I would go to the sitting room where the record player is; 'TINA TURNER!' I would say. 'Let's do a duet.' Then there would appear two long wood bar stools, a smoke machine, and an audience of three or four buddies. I would give you the front of the stage because your legs are nicer. We would start on What's Love Got To Do With It, I on the harp, and you with those pipes. Wouldn't it be great?

Let me know if you can come over sometime next week. I'm flex' with my sched'.

Your BFF,

JP

Head of Trails

2008-06-23T12:29:00.000-04:00

43.3185535

11.3316534

The walls around crumble into tall yellow grass
Romulus, Remus

I was thinking about it there and there.

Wild rock shelves
and waves lapping
eroding centuries of tongue wagging
of order

Your clothing was smoked
Sensing sharp

See crisply
Hear crisply
And shivers to touch, taste;
Those peaches you were eating once

Around you there was the shaking up of imposition
you were wild after;
this figure preoccupied with the horizon
with the water
with the sky meets water

with

Cross continents and provincial parks;
extracted are the circumstances

Romulus, Remus,
another place being:
fed to the wolves
or just, rightly and ruling

The conqueror (unbeknownst),
does long
to become again
conquered

MoC's

2008-06-16T09:22:00.000-04:00

Tiny Town Proudly Presents:
Murder o' Crows!

*Sounding daily until the corn is gone.

Brain Go Dimanche

2008-06-15T20:37:00.000-04:00

Birds are chirping.
It is forty minutes after eight o'clock, post meridian.
The house is empty.
My nose is sun burned, and also my shoulders.
Bugs are pretty bad this year; chewed up my legs something awful already.

But I do love the pleasantries of prima vera.

Touts, David the law maker wants to TRANSPLANT vineland from it's secret spot.
Relocation to Muv & Farv's back yard.
O how do I feel about this?

Tired.

The house is empty of humans, but not of distressed dog hair.
And the PLP on Friday.
So my brain, it is missing.
And my wits too.
They conjure up an image of a lone rusted horse shoe, or smooth, hot stones on the beach.
Antique hearts strings pumping blood like a train leaving station;
Chhh, Chhh, Chhh
Lifetime pleasantries, not woman ploughing field with kerchief or hoe.
Can I be a battle ax again tomorrow?

One day, all of those sugar concentrated purple globes will host outrageous legends,
and loamy lore.

Muv and Farv's plot is a gaint sandbox.

'Suis Fatigue, Touts.

A Bientot.

Du Jour

2008-06-14T09:47:00.000-04:00

Lion Oil.

Stones

2008-06-11T15:16:00.000-04:00

Inside the forest:

I once put his name down near the river beds

cold earth chalk, orange rock

The sun spilled through the conifers

I was squatting

June smells on my nose

raw hide emotions that I didn't know the language for

Just breathing and looking

Then there is this vision of:

Souless fishermans on the high sea, battling winds and ego

Sea boots, crooked eyes

and wicked unknowing

Breathing and looking you see around you,

hear around you;

sounds of spring and anticipation

And that twangy guitar;

Jason Molina saying something like he is an old timey man

a pioneering one.

That song in your head, not squatting

A ghost on the highway, and over the escarpment like a hawk watching

Your guts before you,

you were hunted for your heart.

Captial Theatre

2008-06-02T10:24:00.000-04:00

To find the right words, I require restoration

My limbs are the junk flicks from the nineteen eighties
hardly do they remember young RH,
the shoot-em-up pictures
or sidewalk smokes

The good smells of happiness;
pastries, prattle.

Map your way to me from yore;
cross the bridge where the Finch flock,
noising themselves so loudly its like thunder claps, squawks

Feel off the bay that tricky cold,
that hits first your nipples,
then your button.

Feet forward, the Kinks in your head;
dirty jeans, deck shoes

The Capital, it's street windows are symmetrical;
and all of the legs, young and old
are dangling like art or laundry on the line

In restoration, you will meet there and take an afternoon espresso that makes you Jack Rabbity,
functional.

You will go to the back to knead doughs that have been blended with starters as old as Floss
Talk Radio, cackling and finishing touches.

It would be easy;
little feet
raggamuffin
on the freezer with wooden spoons and dirty hands

I see you there.

The Capital Theatre
it's bright round lights are red again, blue again
Flashing

In restoration
lift the darkness, please

We'd get along like a house on fire.

Architectural Indulgence: Volcano Lover

2008-05-27T14:05:00.000-04:00

An ambler
Pony express by way; three weeks or more.

On arrival I am:
Pulped paper
Smooth surface;
That elevation nose bleed
Tittery nerves, twittery nerves.

That Lovich song, too tender to...

Things to design, the new shapes, the letting go
The old well extracted from the raised beds

Ambling and unknowing;
Tilling up the land to make room for a new shape, a fresh shape, a fire
Foundations, well defined lines
Sturdiness, charcoal and conviction

Cedar posts, oxen strong
Growing up things
young wines, vintage years

Pulsing and bumping
Cooking
boiling over the pot

'The volcano near eruption, Missus!'
And who am I,
if not the one to slowly move toward it.

Architectural Indulgence: Home Steady

2008-05-22T10:54:00.000-04:00

Call mime Eliza,
he, John Henry.

Say some, Mechanical Institute;
say other,
Homesteading, hay rolling.

What length in weeks, in planning.

Blueprints:
Behave you mind,
connects from parlour, leads to heart strings.

In the backyard, on the rest day
there is a coziness on your cheek,
not ashen intellect.

Plans, different in your stomach.

New design ads limb,
or an appendage such as distinguished nose.
Considerate kitchen concept,
cherry wood smoke
and wondering.

Wondering plans.
What way the blueprints look
when there is not a map yet for your territory.

Architectural Indulgence

2008-05-20T18:08:00.000-04:00

Isn't this interesting.

Everything is a skeletal structure.
Masculine blue prints cut/dry/yes/no/hot/cold, etc.
I admire that there is no absolution here.
Unforgiving lines of straight and narrow.

I want to build houses.

I saw a man splitting wood yesterday.
From morning until night, there was that quick and methodical chop.
The precision of his cords,
and that his sweat meant nothing but a hand wiping the back of his neck.

I want to build houses.

Gardens, didn't we say?
'What bush is it, you?'
'Fire', I said like a twit. 'Fire Bush, some sister of the dogwood?'
No. Indicate no, but don't shake your head.
Never shake your head, or lose your clout, or your ground, or your footing.

There was a primal element to the structure, you thought.
Its posts were stronger than you could have imagined.
Young grain, wet earth.
Metalsmith.

There was that sharp rock facade close by at the top,
and cold ground underneath your ass.
Wind burn, squint eyes, and search lights;
Combing over and
structures everywhere, some different,
and some, some of the time, made sense.

Foundation that is built upon
that unforgivable wayfaring

Tectonic Activity

Or the straight ground, where the fire bush grows
Whatever it is called.

I want to build houses.

Stakecess

2008-05-16T13:04:00.000-04:00

You may notice in this post title that I have begun acting as though the English language is my own b-word.
Perhaps happy unison can co-exist only between letters and words.

Happy News, Touts!
For finally have I found - stakes.

Gibby the wonderful just informed me of their libre whereabouts.
Located at some wild golf course, under some strange something.
I will pursue ASAP, which might mean this evening in the darkness.

Another great thing; Gibby thinks that perhaps next year there will be enough broken hockey sticks for me.
So here is the hatch (which is slanguage for plan):
1. Appropriate 3 foot stakes at wild golf course marked TOMAHAWK
2. Stake Vines (with extra love and attention to the fochies who are behaving themselves)
3. Appease David by mentioning plans to stake with hockey sticks next year
4. Also come up with an excellent name for hockey stick staked wines,
such as: Double Hockey Sticks Old Vines Foch. I imagine such an image; dark medieval-like text and vines wrapped around hockey sticks. Kind of Blair Witchy, kind of romantic.
* I italicize romantic because if I were speaking this thought, I would say the word foolishly, FYI.
What I would really love more then anything is to call the wine Old Sticks, abbreviated as OS.
I'm wondering though if it might conflict with the Australian Sticks, which itself has a beauteous label, and is also delicious.
*I'll post the Sticks label photograph above.

Finally, as it is Fri, I will make for you a list of Du Jours
1. A-Shea Hellion Dolmer (Manque, manque!)
2. Black Hole by Charles Burns
3. Bloom
4. That I created delicious foraged morel risotto, with virtually no nervous breakdown (or recipes)
5. Curio, slanguage for curious
6. Scientology and brainwashing (reading of or PBS docus)
7. Quelque chose that shall remain nameless, but is worth a slot on the list of jours.

That is all the fudging away from duty I can manage.
Now for keeping collection lean and clean, but WAIT!
The Hens, whom are my beloved colleagues, are trying to weed away
Scooter Westerfeld AND Carolyn Mackler novels.
What will the YAs do without them?
Must be stopped.
Must be stopped.

Bon Weekend, Touts!

Mushvioli

2008-05-14T16:29:00.000-04:00

One final note, this is proof positive - the log box!
Also, sudden inspiration.
I will attempt Morelvioli for Nemo and me tonight.

The Mushroom Zombie

2008-05-09T16:00:00.000-04:00

Have become desperado, combing through the forest floors in search of those mysterious Morels.
Vineland be damned for the moment.
I want the slippery delicacy of fungus steeped in butter.

Lately I cannot decide on life decisions, which would normally make me incorrigible.
And completely underwhelmed I am, but still quite happy.
Or perhaps it is that I am overwhelmed for flighting moments.
Spring time?
The blooming Lolita-like maples out the front window,
are they distracting me?
Flighty, distracted..anyway..

You will not quite believe the thing on the other side (inside) window of the house across the street.
A stuffed Terrier. His tongue is always out, and he is always sitting pretty, looking for the boblio children to run like barbs through the front doors.

It is mushroom rainioli today.

*for your information, since this post began to unravel, I have found the elusive fungus in the forest marked Bruce
In geographical location, Total Mystery.
I apologize, now I have become one of those persons who cannot reveal their secret.
It was all quite disorienting in fact.
I was taken blindly into a thickly forested area, where I was left wandering alone with black flies and wild boar (on my heels). I got frightened and found a cabane d'aide where I wrote inside a log book.
This is not quite verbatim, but my words went something like this:
I find myself suddenly quite lost, as I have a pension for wandering away from Fish (who is out of water). I fear for soon I shall become completely and totally disoriented, opting (likely) to snack on the wrong kind of fungus, and succumbing to immediate feral paralysis and getting eaten, or (worse) becoming quite dead and skeletal inside the cabane d'aide. Let this be a lesson learned kids.

*The photograph featured above is of my very own harvest (feather in my cap).
Last week, before the weekend Morels, I went fetching with Nemo, and we caught Geo Caching tags instead of mushrooms (but sadly no pictures of this discovery).
On days like these, scotch whiskey must be drunk to fill the fungal emptiness inside.

Stake focus resumes next post.

Xies and Osies,

FeralForoCurioPERDU!

FerralForestCurio

2008-05-02T13:33:00.003-04:00

It has been hard to really hammer down and focus on the vineyard, as we have had several great weeks of sunshine and mild temperature. I've been pursuing the stake out (har har) very casually as of late; contemplating lazily, then running into the forest for hours.

I'd like to reflect on this actually, but just long enough to make mention of how lovely beans it is to become overcome by something that receives you as muvvy nature does.

I've gotten lost in the adolescent awe of the pending bloom.
Do you know what I mean by that?
When outside is bursting lusty lips or bosom - it looks so scandalous this time of year.
Three more days of warm rain is all we need (I reckon) for apple blossom and lilacs to push through, but this is just my nose as assessment.

For the moment, I'll put mine to the grind (working today),
and thereafter I will put the Japonais Quince (featured above) in the front gardens.
I've had a change of heart about the front gardens; no longer will they be a coarse rendition of aristocracy and liaisons dangereux.
Instead: Big, bursting, spectacular. Like flower beds on stilts, or as Transformers. Can you picture this?
Grandiose is a word that comes to mind.
Also, I have purchased several raspberry bushes for the backyard. The plan is that they may start to act as a fence in the backyard - puppers does so enjoy traipsing off to no-no land.

* The picture above the quince bush is one I took during a forest jaunt earlier this week.
Keeps you so well adjusted to do this, promise.

I will shortly be adding more photo's; some from an architectural masterpiece stumbled upon in the country side of Heathcote. Here is what you can look forward to: A wooden spacecraft (home).

Until then, & with soon-to-be delicious Tuscan wine on my lips,

JP

Dirty-ish Work

2008-04-17T09:27:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I had an ocular migraine, which is a nerve/retina sensitivity that causes your vision to blot, blur, and ultimately move back and fourth sideways, causing its recipient such joys as feeling as though she has taken ACID. Earlier this morning while walking the dog, I almost got hit by a truck. I screamed
'Ummmmm, Hullo, Jesus Christ! to which the culprit shrugged his shoulders, like 'O, I am sooooory that I almost hit you with my work truck'. Needless to say I was chuffed AND I was feeling a little bit sad pants about having TWO near death experiences.

In spite of this, Ron Dog, Holly Louise, Perrigort, and myself went strolling through vine land last night to make an assessment. Farv snapped off old growth and made imaginary snippings in the direction that he hoped the vines would grow this year. The most important discovery was that we need to stake our crop ASAP, as they have started to establish themselves in a most crooked way. My plan du jour is to find information on staking choices in the area. Personally, I'd like to stake with hockey sticks, as this will surely please the masses (David).

In the picture above you will notice that I look like a ghost.
This is my homage to my near to death experience.
Additionally, this is a so-so picture of my favourite Farv and myself at vine land in the early, early excitable spring.
Number one Muvvy took the shot.

Picture above picture is a shot of my Blundstones conquering the Baco Noir, which you can hardly notice I bet due to its disappointing transformation from season bitch.

Back to the Bobliotechque, Tout Le Monde!

Clem and Winnie

2008-04-15T20:16:00.001-04:00

What a fetching couple!
My obsession du jour:
The Churchills!
And of course, as always,
Bicycles of any sort.
I've discovered a Masi touring bicycle that I would pull my teeth out for.
I imagine myself, long rides in the country side, on top of the mega steel steed.
I will stop at this one brook, I imagine,
and widdle a fishing rod so I can catch a trout the size of my bathtub.
It is yet decided who I will share with, either a grizzly bear or a bearded man.

For tonight, I shall try to fashion my eyebrows like Clem.
Tomorrow is for the dirty work.

Until Soony Soon!

Romarin

2008-04-14T15:09:00.000-04:00

For your information, today I have acquired three potted rosemary plants.
Presently they sit *aromafying the sandbox, which makes me feel cozy and happy while I slog it indoors on this fine day.

Kids are using their red wagon's again, and it's lovely, and I find suddenly I want children, but mostly because the father's that pull them seem to be getting more attractive.
Cute farvy's rolling their dirty spring children around in vintage red wagon's.
O my.

In other news, Ron Dog and I will be visiting vine land this week, likely Wednesday.
I won't make any bones about pruning so late. Don't many things benefit from the cold shoulder?

What else?
A list. I will make a short list of great stuff du jour
1. Rosemary smells in the sandbox
2. Spring book launches with Dolmy and Guinness (and later, Fish!)
3. Divisadero, new Ondaatje
4. Earthquake Cabarnet, from (toot toot) Cali!
5. Cycling insanity (and by insanity, I mean obsession)
6. Running Gear
7. Georgian Bay shorelines to forage driftwood, which I will sand and apply a walnut, water-based stain to, then varnish - - their functional purpose will be...
Door stoppers!

Ta Ta for now, Tout Le Monde!

*Ps: Sadness is the discovery that aromafying is not a word.
:(

White Wolf

2008-04-06T20:34:00.000-04:00

Keith Jarret Records.

Alone time.

One light on, and warm breeze coming in through the screen door.

I am thinking about animals.

I think about animals often.

For example there is a white wolf on side road number three.

It is acting strange and submissive because it wants my jugular, but I am in this automobile, which I think is strange.

In fact, today I am the passenger in my own car just to see how it feels,

and I want to be outside with the wolf who is not actually a wolf but a sharp field stone.

Later it is a Cougar who is cautiously stalking me, and even though as I have mentioned about the Wolf, it too is after my jugular, I am not feeling very frightened because, number one I have the dog with me,

and number two, I know he is only curious about my strange blood.

Back in my den everything is right.

I look after things, and sweep up all of that impossible dirt.

Things happen; this, that.

Time, etc

And it is good still when I am old and like this;

my own kind of animal.

Come on, Come on, Come on

2008-04-05T10:24:00.000-04:00

My Conversation w the Germination Process:

J: Um, Hullo?
G: silence
J: Germination, you there?
G: silence
J: Germination, you're mumbling..
G: silence
J: Are you okay?
You sound like you're buried under something.
G: silence
J: Listen Germination, I just wish you'd come out.
And I'm sorry I get impatient, but I really hate waiting for you.
You're ALWAYS parched, and I don't ALWAYS have time to have a drink with you.
G: silence
J: I'm going to give you another shot. The one week ultimatum, and I KNOW, I'm going to need to make some changes too.
G: silence
J: I don't mean to be critical of you, Germination.
In fact, I only do it because I love you so.
G: silence
J: I hope we can grow together one day.
Until soon, Germination.
I believe in you...
G: silence