On Water Expeditions and Counting Birds.

After the umpteenth hiatus in my blogging life, here I am. I know you've missed me, I have missed you too...

So...let’s see. Oh! I went on a cruise to the Caribbean! It was magnificent. It was very touristy, but still magnificent. For my first trip as an adult, it was totally worth the investment! Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a Japanese/Hawaiian/Moroccan getaway...Oh Future! What holdeth thee in store for me?

I was with a very cool friend who had tastes similar to mine, and I’d go on a trip with her anytime, anywhere. You know, when it’s uncomplicated? Just like that. But that was SO long ago! Now, alas, autumn is upon us, my Cute Little Fall Blossoms, and I fear summer has taken its final bow, at least until next year. It was a good summer, though. But this fall promises to be even better.

There is this new thing showing its face, unexpectedly but with astounding great timing. I don’t know where it’s going. All I know is that it feels good. It speaks to me in a cryptic, complicated language unknown to me thus far. It pays for dinner when I extend the invitation, buys me some wine, and tells me my vanilla perfume is intoxicating. It counts birds with me when we are trying to fall asleep (sheep are too common). It seduces me via text messages. I am smitten. I am cautious, but smitten. We’ll see. Good night, Loverlies.

In retrospect: Easter Eggs

Remember a few months ago, when I told you about my Easter egg-making extravaganza? Well, here's how it turned out (thank you to the photographer extraordinaire for the lighting and also for caring enough to take pictures of the first Easter eggs I make as an adult):

Eggs eggs eggs.

Once upon a time, when I was a child, Easter meant thinking hard on religious themes, being confused about it all and then and going to church for what seemed like a super long time. On Palm Sunday, a week before, I was really excited because that meant that nice lady with a fluffy cardigan gave me a palm branch to make a little woven box with, the meaning of which was completely lost to me. All I was hoping for was that my grandfather would give me his palm branch once it was woven. He was really good at weaving his little box into shape, and I'd try to mimic his moves with great care. (I would not be able to do it today if I had a gun to my temple. Well, I would probably come up with some variation.)

My grandfather had this smile in the left corner of his mouth - I suspect his mind was struggling between being kind of frustrated with me wanting his palm thing (thus not getting the meaning of it all) and finding me cute. I was, after all, the first grandchild in both families. They're always the cutest. He evidently tried to explain the whole thing to me, and I was so impressed about the part where people laid their garments and palm branches on Jesus' path I would think about it every time I walked on anything remotely leaf-like outside. I think I probably got caught once walking on my clothes on the floor in my room. Just kidding.

Nowadays, Easter becomes an excuse to eat chocolate or have a family gathering. To me, it is a great holiday, for now I get four days off to do fun things. This year, we're going to our friends' home for part of the weekend, and the weather is supposed to be lovely. We're talking twenty-two degrees and sunny. Smells like skirts, t-shirts and good music to me. Also sounds an awful lot like little paper umbrellas in drinks and dancing barefoot in the grass. (Although, at this time of year in our neck o'the woods, no grass, alas. It's okay, I'll settle for dancing close to the muck mixed with snow that will one day become grass.) Anyhow, I was talking about Easter. Sorry, I got distracted with this weekend's thing. Back to Easter.

I have been looking for a very cool recipe to make for our weekend feast. I have not found anything that made me go 'wow', so I've changed my mind. Instead, I've decided to make Easter eggs. I told The Man I would be wasting six eggs from the fridge. He smiled and said: "Oh cool when my mom did that when I was a kid it looked like a serious pain in the ass." And so off I went, trotted into the kitchen, opened the fridge, picked the nicest brown eggs from the crate (or whatever it's called), and poked holes top and bottom. Found a bowl, and blew the crap out of them to empty the shells. It was really fun. It brought me back to my childhood, to my kindergarten class, I think.

Tomorrow I will paint the eggs with acrylic, in nice patterns, and coat them with matte medium to make them nice and shiny. I'll make a nice gift basket for my friends and I'll be happy to have made an Easter thing while conjuring so many happy childhood memories.

Right now, there are six eggs drying in my dish rack and I'm working really hard not to stay up till two in the morning to paint them now.

Holiday.

What, my Loverly Loverlings, is sweeter than being on vacation (even if it's only for one week)?

I'll give you a moment to think it through.
Take your time.

For me, anyway, it's very simple. There's no schedule. Sure, there a few projects, some of which have been put on the proverbial Back Burner for some time. But things happen at a natural pace, a laid-back, what-time-is-it pace, and I enjoy that very much.

This morning, for example, I spent a few minutes checking a few things on Facebook, sipping my cup of coffee while The Man shoots some people in the game he's currently playing. He's got his headphones on, so I don't know what's going on. All I know is when he gets shot, he goes "awww man I didn't see that guy coming - he scared me!" and I nod or do the " awww man that's too bad" face. We have a good balance, there.

We're slowly revving up to go buy what we need to paint the bedroom and fix a few things around the house. We spent a really nice weekend with The Man's dad. On Friday we had dinner at Café du Clocher Penché, and I had some of the most scrumptious Ris de veau I've ever had. We then attended the Cirque du Soleil's street show, Les Chemins invisibles.

Saturday, we thought we couldn't beat the restaurant from the night before, and we were wrong. I had reserved a table on the very charming terrasse at Poisson d'avril, in Quebec's Vieux-Port. I had snow crab and surprised The Man and his father unit by completely showing this crustacean who was the boss. I even managed to make it look easy (for a girl who hadn't tackled crab legs in over 15 years). After dinner, The Man declared, and I quote: "Ok, that's it. From now on, I'm always going to order what you're ordering, because your plate is always better than mine." Wisdom, my friends. Wisdom, right there.

We went to Moulin à images that night, and to Grosse-Île on Sunday. A great weekend. Now, it's time to don the painting gear and get cracking. Slowly. With a what-time-is-it stance.

Ducks. Happiness.

This is what I love to do every time El Daddo in law invites us to the cottage. Ducks love me.

I know, you're not supposed to feed the ducks.

But they're out there, in their secret lairs, with their surveillance system and their radar perfectly adjusted, and they wait in silence. You walk out to the water. You stand on the dock, smiling contently. You think "Ahhh. Now that's calm if I've ever seen it." Then the jetskis come by at one thousand miles an hour, disturbing the mirror-like surface of the lake and you pretend they're not there. You think “Ahhh. What calm and peace. Fuck you, over-tanned loud holiday people, and the jetskis you rode in on.”

You are absorbed by the tiny baby fishies, curious and eager. They are cute. They swim around and shake about. You think “Cool. Tiny fishies.” You remember the time you went to that lake with all the distant relatives you didn't know at all, and you ended up having a great time observing the fishies swim above the white dishcloth four of you held taut in the water, standing so still it hurt.

You are too busy contemplating the horizon and ignoring the jetskis. You dip a toe in the water and immediately want to throw yourself in there, clothes and all. Too bad you're still holding your luggage.

And that, Multitude of Avid Fans, is when the ducks commence Scenario Alpha, dubbed Operation Hot Dog Bun.

You were an easy target, contemplating and wading about in your memories. The short antennae, aptly concealed in the water plants scattered about the reeds, were extended the minute you walked to the waterfront. The satellite relayed your position with pinpoint accuracy and the signal was transmitted all the way from headquarters in a split second.
« There she is. We’ve got her, Commander. Teams Charlie and Tango move now now now!»

And they quickly and efficiently put on their cute masks, and climb inside their capsules. They materialize right in the corner of your eye. You put your luggage down. Someone throws a hot dog bun at you. It’s all part of a well-choreographed routine.

And as you sit in the grass, fourteen ducks, small and old, fat and young, waddle your way, and climb on your thighs, cocking their heads, not to lose sight of the Revered Hot Dog Bun of Yumminess, and you laugh. You’ve not been this happy in a long time.

The Omission That Never Was.

In the past hour, I’ve caught up on the blogs I read, I’ve checked my e-mail, and I’ve had two cups of tea. Oh – and I’ve determined two things:

Thing the First: I want to finish all unfinished knitting projects that are lying around before the end of 2007. That’s five knitting projects at least. I’m pretty sure I’ll find some I didn’t even know I started when I open my knitting bin.

Thing the Second: It takes fifteen tablespoons of sugar to fill my sugarbowl.

I woke up with a start at 6:00 this morning and got really irritated because I had to go to work. I know it’s Sunday – and I knew this when I woke up. But I had forgotten to activate the autoreply on the general e-mail at work telling people we’re away and will get back to them as soon as we’ve returned. So that was a really crappy thing to realize on the second day of your holiday. I was getting ready to get dressed, let the man sleep, take the bus, and go to work to fix this, when I had a brilliant idea: test it first...what if you did activate the autoreply rule? Hmm. Yeah. Fat chance, I thought, you did everything else you had to do, tied all the loose ends and had to forget something. So I tested it. And it answered! Phew. No going to work for me today.

My penguin pyjamas are keeping me warm, the tree is lit, my tea is getting cold, and I’ve got some serious knitting to do. So I’ll catch you all later.

Happy Holidays to all, with my best wishes for peace, good health and discoveries for 2008.

2008? Holy crap. We’re 8 years into the future.