GRRRRRuesome Couple

In a recent email Zoom asked me, "By the way, the zombie walk was lovely. Was Erratic Genius there this year?"

Last year Zoom walked right up to Erratic Genius and took his picture without recognizing him. Not even when he growled at her, "Brains, brains, brains!"

Yes, Zoom, he was there again this year.

Warning! Picture of pestilent face ahead.

Erratic Genius

Pin-Up Girl

GRRRRruesome Couple

Can you guess what kind of zombies they were?

Corny Jack-O'-Lanterns

Remember this stalk of corn? Well, it grew jack-o'-lanterns.

I can't wait to see what it grows in December ...

Sugar Pie

Isn't that the most beautiful pie you have ever seen?

It's a sugar pie - une tarte au sucre. I made it according to my maman's instructions with my great-grandmother's rolling pin. Oh, it was sweet heaven delicious.

Musicians of New Brunswick

I was rushing home, when I came across a group of friendly musicians.

They came as separate pairs to visit friends in Ottawa, connected and decided to play together. They are not a band, but rather two separate musical duos.

I didn't want to chat too long, since they had an audience and people seemed to be in a generous mood.

Their bluegrass music and sweet harmonies, and their hip grungy look sent me off in a happy humming mood.

Boys Don't Knit

I approach the gentleman sitting at a local café, and I ask him what he is knitting. He flashes me a kind smile, and as he shows me his knitting, he explains that he is working on his first sweater.

"I imagine that this must impress the women," I say hoping that he is not offended by my sexist comment. I quickly add that my understanding is that knitting used to be a male only occupation.

"Yes that is what I hear too. You know the expression quoted by feminists, take back the night? I like to say, that I am taking back the knit."

A Tail of a Whale

Leviathan: Watercolors of Whales from William Jardine’s The Naturalist’s Library

I get on the elevator, and I sigh. I am not smiling in my usual happy way.

I look at my elevator companion, and I see a elderly impish man. Plastered on his face is a shit eating grin.*

He has come down on the elevator, but he does not exit and he now goes up with me. Instantly he turns to me, "So, why is your hair long?"

I look at him, and my grumpiness fades, and I am smiling. "Because I love my hair long."

"And why do you have blue eyes?" His own black eyes reflect a tease.

"I don't have blue eyes, " I break out into a sincere laugh, and I feel happiness, "but my father had blue eyes."

I look down at his hands - he is holding an unfinished soapstone carving. He follows my gaze, "I carve things. This one is going to be a whale. Do you see the tail?"

"Yes. Can I take a picture?"

"It'll cost you five dollars."

"Ha! I'm not giving you money." He seems well off.

"A picture of my art is worth five dollars." His face is serious, but his eyes are laughing out loud.

I reach my floor, and I am in a fabulous mood now.

"See ya," I say as I leave the elevator.

"I'm rich you know!" And he laughs, as I watch him push the down button.

*Slang - a sly, knowing, or self-satisfied grin: somewhat vulgar
Webster's New World College Dictionary Copyright © 2005 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Cleveland, Ohio.

Corny

I would expect to find a stone in a field of corn, but . . .

Well, you get the picture.

STELLAaaaaaaah!

Stella has a breakfast dilemma, so I prepared my favourite breakfast and took pictures to respond to her request for breakfast ideas.

The night before, I place in a pot:

• 1 cup of old fashioned oats,
• a few spoonfuls of nuts or seeds,
• a dash of cinnamon (optional), and
  
• water to cover everything to about a quarter inch past the dry ingredients.

I let the mix soak overnight. This cuts the cooking time from 20 minutes to 1 minute. (I also leave a bowl of frozen berries on the counter to thaw overnight.)

In the morning, I heat the mix of soaked oats and seeds on the stove. Once heated, I place the oatmeal, a splash of milk (cow, soy, rice, or other kind of your choice) in a bowl, and top it all with the thawed berries and a sprinkle of brown sugar or maple syrup.

I wash it all down with a cup of hot black Assam tea, and I am sorrensified until noon.

Fashion Tip: X Hides the Spots

Pin-Up Girl and Flower Child run up to the bathroom to get ready to go out. They're both so pretty, I find it confusing that they say they will need an hour and a half to get ready.

The bathroom door is open and I hear happy chatter and girlie giggles - I enjoy listening to them.

Pin-Up Girl comes over to my desk where I am sitting and procrastinating at blogging,"Woodsy, do you have medical tape?"

"Yes, I do. But why do you need it?" I worry that maybe one of them has poked themselves in the eye with the mascara brush (as I might do).

"Oh," sighs Pin-Up Girl, "I can't wear a bra with my new dress, so I need the tape in case of a wardrobe malfunction."

I give her the tape and continue to efficiently put off writing.

Then, I realize that I don't understand what she is going to do with the tape. Tape her dress to her bosom?

"Hey, Pin-Up Girl, why the tape?" I yell out.

"Oh, you know," she purrs back innocently, "gotta make little x's".

Darwin Salutes You

I watched as the fellow at the top of the ladder used a shovel to remove the metal siding from the house. He would pry, then pull, then awkwardly juggle the shovel and the large piece of loose siding, and then finally drop the siding below to the left of the ladder and almost on top of the fellow at the bottom of the ladder.


I cringed and wondered if I should say something Hey, guys, someone is going to get seriously hurt. But I knew I would have no influence, so I watched silently pondering what to do while I took pictures.


Then, to my relief, along came a city inspector in shining aviator glasses riding in a white car to rescue them from certain inclusion into the Darwin Awards.

Ice Cream Kisses

Pin-up Girl, the Erratic Genius and I demonstrate

Ice-cream kisses is a concept that the Word Wizard, the Erratic Genius and I came up with when they were little.

Instead of taking a bite out of each others ice-cream and risking cries of Hey, he took a huge bite or Gross he licked mine we would tap each ice-cream against the other to share a taste.

We still do it.

Erratic Genius Art

Lynn, over at TurtleHead, asked in a comment if the Erratic Genius was still creating art since his sweet Window Garden days.

Yes he is, but it has evolved dramatically...

Window Garden

When I had to stop being a stay-at-home mom, and had to go work in an office, I mentioned to the Erratic Genius that I missed the hours of gardening that I used to indulge in while he and the Word Wizard dug for dinosaur bones, ran through the sprinkler, made mud messes, and entertained me endlessly with stories, laughter, and made-up songs.

Soon after he created a faux stained glass window garden for my office (see picture) - he was only 8 years old.

(Sadly, when my office was relocated to another building, I had to leave the garden behind - the sun had baked it to the glass. Notice the four leaf clover.)

Serenity

I came across this bird drawing a year ago on Papa's birthday

After my papa died, not long after, I had a dream about him.

I stood inside an ancient church at the very back. Everything was dark, and everything was cold.

I looked down at the stone floor, at the dust on the stone floor, and at my bare feet in the dust on the stone floor.

I looked up and ahead, and I saw light and I felt warmth emanating from the front of the church. And there stood mon beau Papa. He smiled, and his smile was beatific. He lifted and cupped his hands and motioned me to come forward and see the secret that he held in his cupped hands.

I cautiously moved towards him, and when I reached him, I finally also smiled. He did not speak, but gently nodded at his hands. I looked into his blue eyes and then down to his hands. Inside, within a soft warm glow he held a little bird.

The next day I called La Sorcière, ma maman, and told her about the dream.

She barely let me finish. "Your Papa always worried about you, and what he wanted more than anything was for you to find serenity... the little bird is serenity."

10, 000 Pieces of Lego

What I find the most difficult to get used to, now that my boys are not constantly in my hair; competing vocally in volume for my attention; tangled up in my arms; being read to; tickling, teasing, hugging and kissing me; crying, whining, angering at too much homework; asking repeatedly if supper is ready; practising their swearing skills; dumping 10,000 pieces of Lego on the floor and rustling through them for hours for the right pieces; dragging friends through the front door and out the back door over and over again; slamming the front door, leaving the back door open wide; shouting and running from room to room; gathering weapons, armour, and provisions for the dragon adventure they are plotting; yelling to each other while one is on the toilet and the other is keeping a running commentary on the TV show that they are watching, "What's happening now", "Fuck, you just missed the best part", "Oh, shit, I just need to finish wiping my ass. What's happening now?"; singing dirty nasty Scottish drinking songs; playing Alice Cooper records at maximum volume; and practicing Shakespeare lines loud enough to wake the dead, is the silence.

Dirt Pirate

I was commenting to a friend that one of the differences between gardening in the country and gardening in the city, is the kind of treasures that are found in the process of digging.

In the country I regularly found miniature shells, broken pottery and glass, antique glass bottles and glass stoppers, ancient blunt headed nails, and even rusted old tools.

In the city, so far, I have found a used condom (not pictured), an unused condom, pop bottles, beer cans, a lipstick, and a new spoon.


That is, until last Sunday...

I found what appears to be an old broken bottle neck and a newer piece of a china cup.



Did my friend hide those in my city garden to surprise me?

Cosmic Cosmos

Years ago, when I lived in the country, in a small log cabin, I was given a package of mixed wildflower seeds. This was the start of my love of gardening.

Amongst the many beautiful flowers that grew from those seeds, all in a tangle of erratic brilliant colours, one in particular caught my fancy - the cosmos*. When fall came, just before the first frost, I collected, segregated, and dried the seeds from my wildflower bed.

Come spring, I purposefully planted all the seeds of my favoured flower, the cosmos, at the entrance to my cabin to create a wide frenzied patch of soft varied pinks and deep brilliant magenta. They flowered from early spring until late fall. They were stunning and they were admired by all who visited.

One day when Papa was over, he stood in front of the flowers staring at them for a while before commenting, "Did you know that those were your grandmother's favourite flower?" I had not known that.

Years later when I traveled to the small island that my paternal ancestors had first settled on and cleared for farming, I was pleasantly surprised to find that everywhere I walked cosmos grew in abundance. They bordered yards and driveways, were interspersed into tamed gardens, and were scattered wildly in fields.

Then, not so long ago when I lived in the suburbs, a dear friend painted cosmos on a watering can for me (see picture). Needless to say, I was thrilled. I had never told her about my love of cosmos. Amongst the dozens of varieties of flowers in my garden, she had picked the cosmos to paint because she felt they reminded her of me.

It has been a while since I grew comsos, but yesterday I planted eighteen cosmos plants in my garden. I can't wait until fall to collect the seeds, so that next spring I can grow a huge crazy patch of them.

*"The word Cosmos is derived from the Greek, which means a balanced universe."

Downtown Air Service - Part II

Remember the airplane seat? Well, yesterday I came across the whole crew!

Heart... broken

On my way to work, I spotted something in a public garbage can that looked familiar. It was half of a swap box by elmaks!. Without hesitation I carefully reached in and halted its trip to the dump. I looked at the surrounding poles and walls hoping to spot the other piece.

"There, on the ground," muttered my trusted companion pointing next to the garbage can. I grabbed it and placed both pieces delicately into my great big black bag. My rescue was not as heroic and brave as Zoom's, but it was as heartfelt.

I would like to fix the box, and install it on the inside entrance of my home, so that all who cross my threshold have the opportunity to take part in a swap. But I feel that I require the artist's blessings...

What do you say, elMaks!, may I fix it and install the swap box indoors?

Nods and Smiles

I was stepping off the sidewalk to cross the road, and I heard the great roaring purr of its motor.

"Hallelujah, the buses are back!" I rejoiced silently.

I looked up at the bus driver, flashed her a smile, she responded with a friendly nod*, and we both raised our hand and waved at each other at the same time.


*There was little ill-will toward the strikers, who received nods and smiles from their customers. "And nods and smiles were returned," the Citizen said. "A very different strike in 1919"

Morning Treat

I saw a cowboy on my way to work this morning.

Oh, what is it about cowboys that makes a woman's heart skip a beat?

Keeping Tabs on Fashion

I stopped her because I was awed by her coat. As we chatted, she shared with me that her boyfriend had made it. The pull-tabs on the shoulders were hand-sewn and reminded me of chainmaille. She wandered off, and I continued to gaze at her, intrigued by how her gentle voice and sweet demeanor contrasted with the armour-like coat.

A Picture of Still No Busses

I know how to end the bus strike...


Deny everyone who is part of the negotiations the use of their car until they reach a settlement.

Drunk Angry Beaver

According to the friendly young man on the left, I really pissed off his buddy on the right by taking his picture. That beaver was a mean drunk, and he startled the hell out of me when I first saw him.

Higher Powers

A few days ago, I was focused on a deep conversation with Coyote.

Magi, my cat, walked in, and with that mysterious power that cats have, directed me to stand up, fill a tea-cup with cold water and place it on the floor in front of her, all while I continued talking and listening to Coyote.

Without missing a beat, and certainly not to be outdone, Coyote's camera made him stand up, point the lens at Magi and take a perfectly sweet picture of her.

Chic Geek

J., from Please Pick-up Your Socks, identified the hat worn by the snow bunny as a Pook Toque. She suggested that I go to YouTube to learn more about it.

I found the video below, which is worth watching for the adorably smart and funny comments by Siân about how to wear the toque. She makes a geeky hat sound cool⁶.

Pook Toque - by Siân

Snow Bunny

Imagine what might have ensued if Coyote had been walking behind this young man...