I’m back. Actually I got back a few days ago, but hit the ground running and have barely slowed since. The entire trip to Ontario felt like that, in fact… I thought I’d be all relaxed and well-rested from not having to take a puppy out to pee in the middle of the night, but there was so much visiting to do. Oats and I shared at least one meal with both my sets of parents, both of my sisters, one of my stepbrothers plus his wife and two kids, my older sister’s partner, my older sister’s roommate, two friends of mine from high school, Oats’ parents, Oats’ grandparents, Oats’ long-time family friend, and Oats’ brother plus his wife and two kids. Twenty-four people in eight days. Fun, and exhausting. Upon our return, our landlady asked how the weather was and I said that I didn’t have a clue.
It’s good to be back.
Mo went to the vet tonight for his 2nd round of shots. It was a different doctor than the one we saw before, and she wasn’t quite as friendly. Among other things, she told us that he’s underweight, because his ribs are visible. We told her that her coworker had noted Mo’s skinny hips and long legs, and guessed that he’s part whippet, in which case he is naturally very thin. At this point, he barely weighs 10 lbs, and yet we’ve been feeding him the designated amount of kibble for that size of dog since we got him 4 weeks ago! We’re going to increase it now, but still… I think he’s just a bony sort of animal.
Whatever.
I’m cranky, and need to sleep now. I’m just glad to have such a good pup as Mo, and that he’s generally healthy and a pleasure to all he meets.
Mo at 13 weeks of age, sitting pretty in the special bed his Auntie has made for him in her kitchen, so that he can be part of the action and yet also comfortable (and fashionable).
marisa from food in jars was right: that dill pickle recipe of hers works just as well with zucchini as with cucumber. i used one of those massive zukes, cutting it into spears like i did for the cucumbers, and made many jars. they are crisp and delicious!
it turns out that the farmer for whom i was doing this actually doesn’t like dill pickles, but she was gracious about it and said she’d give them away as gifts. this same farmer also recently told me that she had more green tomatoes for me, but if i wanted to make more salsa, requested that i please leave out the curry.
huh?
i suggested that she was referring to the cumin with which i lightly flavoured the salsa, and farmer insisted that no, it was definitely “curry”.
sure, whatever, i said, mentally noting that the client does not like cumin.
this prompted oats and i to make mean jokes about honkies who don’t know spice, cuz that’s the kind of (honky) snobs we are.
i ran out of jars last week. there were a few 1 litre ones kicking around, but there was nothing that i’d want to use for the jam or pickles that were on my to-do list.
after turning up nothing at any of the thrift stores (!!!), and getting no answer from any of the online classified ads to which i replied, i broke down and did something i’d never done before… like, ever: i went to s@feway and bought a dozen new 250 mL jars.
they cost $15!!! ack!
then i got a phone call from one of the ads: 9 dozen salmon canning jars for $40, and they’d even deliver. woo hoo! i returned the new jars to the grocery store, breathing a sigh of relief that i wouldn’t have to break my pledge to keep a small(er) footprint with this canning obsession.
one of my classmates is a former logger from a small coastal community, and i asked him if he fished, hoping for a free salmon hook-up. turns out that he’d done a lot of crab fishing between forest contracts, but paid top price for his fish just like everyone else. yesterday, he brought me a jar of his salmon, and asked for the jar back; i did him one better, and returned from my trip home at lunch with a jar of dill pickles instead.
we’re leaving at an unholy hour tomorrow morning for our trip to ontario, and i’m trying to get a million things done while a puppy tries to sleep on my lap. i’m going to miss him.
latest batch of bread-and-butter pickles at left, salmon in jar turned on side in rear centre, zucchini dill pickle in bowl at front centre, jar of zucchini dills at right.
i started school on tuesday and thus far, it’s great, though VERY time consuming. between that and the canning, plus the fact that i have amazing friends and a new bike… well, yeah: the writing is not happening.
but that’s what summer is for!
my bike and oats' on the ferry to vesuvius, loaded down with gear during last weekend's bike trip
yesterday, i met a blogger.
i mean, i ran into them, and they were a stranger, but i recognized them, because i’d just added their blog to the queer canada blogs blogroll project.
let me tell you how oddly thrilling this was.
here’s what happened: i’d run out of small canning jars – my obsession with canning is in hardcore competition with my bloglove these days. oats and i were downtown getting stuff for our upcoming bike trip, and so i made a quick dash into v@lue vill@ge for jars. after doing a price check on the ones i wanted, i was heading back for more of them when a very familiar person walked through the door.
without thinking, i practically grabbed them and yelped “HI!!!”. in retrospect, this could have been rather alarming: i think i look friendly enough, but generally tend towards over-enthusiasm when excited. luckily, the blogger took it very well, and was perfectly gracious, especially after i explained who i am. we even chatted a little about canning, which was lovely. it was a struggle, but i managed to restrain my desire to scream out “OMIGOD YOU REALLY EXIST!!!”
dear fellow bloggers, please rest assured: it’s not that i truly doubt your existence.
however, most of the time i spend reading blogs is a one-sided, solo venture that is mediated by a computer screen. yeah, some of you are my real-life friends, but most of you are strangers for whom i’ve created personas based upon your words and images. to see you in the flesh, to share smiles with you, to shake your hand… is absolutely exhilarating.
now i’m reflecting on some thoughts that should probably be filed under “what blogging means to me”.
i used to blog as part of an online community that was mostly based around a system of message boards: my main interactions were in the discussions i’d have in these forums, and i tended only to blog while away from my home city. then i started blogging on a different blog-focused platform, because a few of my friends used it and i liked being linked to them. after a while though, i became more interested in simply writing, and fed up with the commercialization of my blog space. so, i moved to this URL almost a year ago, and took part in my first NaBloPoMo (national blog posting month) in november. the rest, as they say, is history: blogging every day led me to searching out blogs that interested me, which led me to commenting on these blogs, and eventually i was knitting socks for mae callen and then administrating queer canada blogs.
it’s been a funny jump. in discussing the first blogging platform i used, a friend once referred to it as “the kitchen table”, because it was a rather small online community where most of my readers also knew me in other contexts. by contrast, now i’m writing in what feels like a very public space: like i’ve picked up that kitchen table and carried it downtown to the square outside city hall. i’m much more exposed. to compensate, i’ve tried to anonymitized my blog as much as possible. at the same time, i think that there’s a inverse relationship between exposure and interest, because the more i reveal, the more i feel rewarded. telling my stories connects me with other people, even when they don’t know my real name. my real name doesn’t matter. this is the semi-shadowed link that i crave.
i used to think it was crazy when i’d read of bloggers going on long road trips to meet one another, because i’d think to myself ZOMG THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER. now, i get it. while i still believe that a regular reader of my blog wouldn’t really know *me* entirely, they’d certainly be familiar with many aspects of who i am.
in a couple weeks, i’ll be confirming my october trip to ontario, and i’m already wondering who i’ll finally get to meet. maybe it’s time for an unofficial local queer blogger rendezvous, or at least to begin planning one for winter? hopefully i’ll start sooner than that, by having coffee with the blogger that i met yesterday.
i stand corrected: the settlement to which i journeyed this past weekend for pride festivities is NOT a small town, it is a CITY. in my snooty urbanity, i simply assumed that it was a small town, because that’s what it seems to be from my perspective. the rural-urban divide is alive and well, my friends!
the city, as i will now call it, is too hip for a parade or a picnic, or any other of the more typical pride-type events. no, instead they leverage their local heritage into a more memorable experience: an evening ride in the open-sided passenger cars of an antique steam train, from the downtown core through the forest to an old mill, where we were treated to performances and a party.
in short, it was rad.
since the festivities didn’t start until dinner time, we had a whole day to relax in the dry roasting heat. at 10 am, it was 28 degrees celsius in the shade of my friends’ porch: hot! still, we went to the farmers’ market, where i got blueberries which i devoured to the point of illness. there was a stall selling baked goods, including super-cute sugar cookies. oats first pointed out the gingerbread family to me, saying that it was obviously us since the two larger cookies were decorated with icing swimsuits that matched the ones that she and i were wearing: one in shorts, the other in a bikini.
our local friend joined us at the booth just as i was oooh-ing over the chicken family sugar cookies, at which point the vendor came over and i complimented her on her creativity. she thanked me and leaned over to the plate with the chickens and pointed at each member of the family in turn: “they’re all there, see? there’s the mom and there’s the dad, there’s the chick, and the egg is the next baby that’s coming!”
we replied with tight-lipped smiles and quickly walked away. “did she really need to explain the heterosexual family model to us?” asked our local friend. apparently. i realize that some people would see this as over-sensitivity, but really: arg! how am i going to make room for my children in this world?!!
head full of these thoughts, i was a bit adrift during our next stop at a small open flea market. oats tried on a leather jacket and requested my opinion as she checked out her reflection in the car window. it was nice, but a little ill-fitting, and i told her so while smoothing it around her chest and waist. the vendor was watching us, reminding me again of how visible oats and i are, particularly in a smaller city with fewer queers. i found a handlebar bag that would be perfect for my upcoming bike trip; after i paid the vendor, she held out something in her hand. “for pride,” she said to me as it took it: two small metal rings inset with shell.
my heart melted. i thanked her profusely, and joked to oats that now we could wear them and everyone would think we’re married.
blind heteronormativity = 1 point
welcoming acceptance = 1 point
noon in the city and hey, we’re tied!
the rest of the day was spent at the lake, swimming and snacking and napping in the shade while trying to tune out the mega rock hits blasting from the speed boat anchored just over from our little section of beach: mostly heavenly.
as the sun began to set, it was time to get proud!
the charming ticket vendor at the heritage train station
the train: three cars passenger cars lovingly decorated
before the train ride begins, we are welcomed and introduced to the crew
this is the steam locomotive, coming around to the front of the train so that it can pull us up the hill to the mill
the view from the ridge, during a brief forest-free moment
a surprise stop at a road crossing saw the train set upon by rocky horror bandits, complete with water and bubble guns!
about 30 minutes from our departure, we arrived at this train platform in the forest: the mill
passengers disembarked and followed the trail of streamers and xmas lights to the mill… there were about 100 of us on the train, and then more who’d driven to the site: a pretty respectable number of queers, for a remote-ish city!
performances! this self-described tranny drag king rocked out some lip-synched numbers, and i found myself rather charmed by the whole experience despite my aversion to national flags/rainbows
the sky grew dark, the music grew louder…
and the glow stix got a little brighter, until the clock struck 11:30 pm and it was time to hop the train back to the city. personally, half an hour in a moving vehicle with a group of very drunk and loud young people is my idea of hell, but we all know that i’m no fun and should’ve taken my sober self to a more quiet part of the train. if there was one. at any rate… yay! pride! in a small city! so many million times better than staying at home, or going to the pride events in a massive urban centre where you feel like a lost puppy in the vastness of it all!
…i really love rusty things.
(photos from tonight’s evening walk around town)
on a completely different topic, i’ve suddenly got a borrowed car arranged so that oats and i can go to the pride celebrations in our friends’ small town this weekend! it’s about a 3 hour drive away, and i’d thought we’d miss it, but things are working out. i’m stoked: having spent most of my life in toronto, and then in this city, i’m pretty used to pride festivals that are either huge and crazy or very full of ex-lovers, former roommates, and past collaborators from activist projects. the few times i’ve been to vancouver pride i’ve been weirded out by my anonymity, even though i know that most of those throngs are strangers to one another as well. this’ll be different though: i won’t know anyone except oats and friends, but the crowd will be smaller and more familiar to one another. will they welcome strangers? will they even notice that i am one? will there even be a crowd? do i have too many urban-centric ideas about what small towns are like?
should be an educational experience, even if it simply gets me to shut up and listen more.
also, there’s been talk of tubing down a river, which would be excellent because it’s stupidly hot.
Filed under: Bike Geek, Co-operator, Homebody, Music Lover, Romantic, Scavenger, Traveler
oats gave me an early birthday present!
it’s a reproduction antique compass in a brass pocket-watch-style case, and i LOVE it. i didn’t own a compass before this… which is odd, considering how important it is to my mental health for me to know my bearings. now i’ll always know what direction i’m heading, and have a something beautiful to look at whenever i’m fretting.
last night we went for a long stroll after dinner, down through the side streets to the ocean. right after we turned homewards, we came across an absolutely incredible piece of furniture at the curb. a quick discussion ensued, made urgent by the encroaching darkness and another passerby eager to check it out if we decided to pass.
the thing is, oats and i are suckers for anything made from solid wood, and we both love the lines of (most) old furniture. aside from that, we’ve been talking about diversifying our income by turning our scavenging into a more lucrative hobby, by selling the pieces that we refinish.
so, i stayed behind to guard our new treasure, and oats took off to find a co-op car. hooray for the car share: the closest vehicle was available, and it just happened to be a minivan! i’ll skip the drama of us trying to load, and simply tell you that i couldn’t even lift one side of this thing. we got it up to our 2nd story apartment by taking advantage of the kindness of burly macho men from downstairs who seemed pleased to work for a 12-pack of sleem@n’s.
and now! behold!
it’s true: we don’t actually need an RCA Victor Magic Voice combination phonograph and radio cabinet from around the 1940s. but it’s so gorgeous, and we got it for the price of some beer and a car booking (totalling ~$31, in case you were wondering). my original thought was that we’d gut it, refinish the wood, and use it as a sideboard with storage underneath… perhaps making the speaker section into a glass-doored display shelf lit from above. however, at the urging of the burly macho men downstairs, that thought is on hold as we try to suss out some more information about the piece. maybe it’d be smarter of us to restore it to working condition? we already have a functional and sexy record/radio cabinet, though very different from this one: it’s more 1960s, but still solid wood, with a low profile, modern lines, and metal legs. personally, i’d rather turn the Magic Voice into something that suits my more immediate need for attractive storage space.
or… sell it? the old sticker on the back says $445 (8th photo from top of series), but who knows what the value is these days. of course, any real value is dependent on what a person might actually pay, which is conditional on a few other factors that aren’t really in our favour: the economy’s crappy, we live on an island, and this thing weighs a ton so is hell to move. also, i like it, and i’m not desperate for cash at the moment. i think my minimum selling price would be $500, because that’d pay for oats and i to each put together a touring bike (using my stash of cherry components, a couple 2nd hand frames, and some new parts too). otherwise, i think i’d rather keep it.
all round, my birthday’s looking pretty great.
**********
i’m having a bday bbq this upcoming tuesday! it’s at oats’ place (now mine as well), above the square! 5 pm onwards! there’ll be sangria and mojitos and sausages! also, veggie stuff! also, cake! please come!
am back in canada and glad to be here in the city i’ve called home for these past eight years: summer heat, sunlight until 10 pm, friends and acquaintances at every turn, new plans and schemes for a better way of doing everything. i have a bad cold that has knocked me on my ass these past several days, and i didn’t get that rad job i interviewed for, but it’s all okay… because gardens are exploding with greenery and produce, and as soon as i have the energy again i’m going to get canning and pickling and jamming. a friend just harvested her first honey from the bees she got last october, and now my neighbours and i are talking about keeping our own hives on the flat roof of our house. we celebrated the national holiday with conversations about colonialist/imperialist mindsets in canada vs. australia, cuddling gamin, and drinking too much wine, then later watching bike polo and playing with a baby in a park, while avoiding downtown where the police were illegally searching the bags of pedestrians for alcohol (wtf??!!!). still haven’t been to the lake, but that’ll happen soon.
i just re-read this post and realized how nonsensical it is, but am going to put it up anyway because i think it’s an accurate representation of how fried i feel right now. jet-lag plus cold equals one run-down feral g.
- under the cover of darkness, walk down the block and around the corner to the parking lot outside the dentist office, and sidle up to the orange tree by the west wall. occasionally looking over your shoulder to ensure that the receptionist is still safely behind the desk inside the building, fill a bag with as many oranges as you can easily grab without a ladder.*
- once home, rinse oranges, dry, and arrange nicely in a bowl.
- preheat oven to 350 degrees.
- in a large bowl, combine 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour, 1/4 cup cocoa, 1/4 cup ground almonds (failing that, go with 1/2 cup more flour), 1 pinch of salt, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and the zest of the two oranges that you accidentally gouged badly while picking from the tree. (note: these are pretty small oranges… i might use only one, if we were talking about big navel oranges)
- juice those two de-zested oranges into a measuring cup, and add 1 teaspoon vanilla, and 1/3 cup veggie oil, then fill with warm water to the 1 cup mark and stir with a fork.
- line a muffing tin with paper cupcake liners. or don’t. whatever.
- pour the liquid mix into the dry stuff in the bowl, and thoroughly combine with as few strokes as possible.
- divide batter equally in muffin tin, and bake for ~15 minutes or until a knife inserted into a centrally-located cupcake comes out clean. enjoy!
if you want icing, i should first tell you that my recipe for this is much less exact, and requires some willingness to fuck up. if you’re okay with that: in a food processor, whip together ~1/4 cup margerine, ~1/4 cup “better than cream cheese” spread (or you could use… *gasp* actual cream cheese!) and the zest of one tiny orange until smooth. a little at a time, add ~1 and 1/2 cups icing sugar. if it’s too thick, try adding a little bit of orange juice. vanilla is nice too. remember to let your cupcakes cool completely before icing them, or you’ll end up with puddles.
i’m flying home to canada in 3 days. also, i landed an interview for that rad job i want. combine those two facts with some sweet tender cupcakes, and all the melancholy that was weighing on me earlier this afternoon is successfully being chased away.
*my roommates and i have been watching this tree for weeks, and no one’s picking it: the fruit is beginning to fall off and rot, which is a crying shame!
Filed under: Anarchist, Artist, Homebody, Scavenger, Student, Traveler, Worker
i didn’t get the 35-hour-per-week job. this annoys me, because my qualifications should have at least earned me a spot on the shortlist. however, aside from that, i’m feeling good about it, because there are so many other things i’d rather be doing than giving a large amount of energy to someone else’s project. though i believe in the overall aim of that specific organization, i don’t think i’d have felt satisfied by the role i’d have had to play. all the freedom of my last job spoiled me, even as it drove me a bit crazy.
with some of my own plans in mind, as well as the general idea that i’d be more employable in the sort of flexible contracts that suit me best, i’m considering taking a bookkeeping course at the college in the fall. this is also because i’m realizing that i’d do better if i stopped ignoring my interest in money, and instead try to harness it for useful things. all those years of knee-jerk anarchism have made me reluctant to understand the reality of capitalism, even as they’ve made me very confident in my DIY pride and belief that you don’t have to fuck others over to survive. i have this idea that i can hold true to the anarchism that anchors me, as long as i don’t try to hide my struggles with ethics, how our economic system works, and my place in it. or maybe that’s me trying to validate myself; i don’t know right now. but i’m okay with that.
i’m also a tightwad. had i mentioned this yet? fanciful sojourns in the southern hemisphere to the contrary, i’m all about pinching pennies… which is why i was thrilled to pick up this book at a vinnie’s today!
it was written in 1966, but seems appropriate for these financial times. i’m two-thirds of the way through it so far, and it’s a pretty good mix of common sense, interesting ideas, utter pretentiousness, outdated advice, and totally fucked-up sexist bullshit, with a good dash of class/race/queer ignorance thrown in for fun.
no, i will not rent out my spare room to a single working mother in exchange for her cooking my meals when she gets home from work every evening.
yes, i will research factory stores if i ever need to buy a… huh… well, something that’s made in a factory and that i might want to have new instead of secondhand. i can’t think of what that might be, but there’s probably something. toothpaste?
i have another obsession as of late, aside from being cheap and mocking everything. it developed when oats and i were in queensland, because though we’re not your typical shopoholics, we both love the chance beauty and good deals of the small town thrift store. somehow, i ended up getting overly fond of small tablecloths and silk scarves printed with commemorative australiana of one variety or another. you know: koalas… or a map of the northern territory… or common birds/wildflowers. though i suppose i like most retro kitsch, i hate filling my house with crap, so rarely buy it. there’s something about these pieces of fabric, though: they’re so well-made, and yet tacky, that i find them unbearably appealing…. especially cuz they’re usually $1 or less. oats was good enough to take my new collection home with her when she returned to canada on friday, creating more space in my own bag. i’m not aiming to fill it, but i have picked up three more pieces.
to be fair, this isn’t like my collection of bad nautical art (i <3 embroidered ships and seagulls, in plastic frames!), with which i intend to decorate my bathroom until the end of days. for these tableclothes and scarves, my plan is to sew cushion-covers and/or picnic blankets, some of which i’ll be able to sell or give away as gifts. if enough people like them, i might even try to do a craft fair or maybe etsy. i don’t really want a full-blown business, but it’d be nice to cover costs for the stuff i make for myself.
