Brown Sugar Swoon

Well, I've been busy, among other things.... but to write it all down would probably bore the lot of you half to internet death so I'll give you the Coles Notes (American version: Cliff Notes).

A) Olympics.  Great fun, glued to the set and thankful that the coverage was so good I didn't have to watch a single event on NBC... Marvelled at the irony of watching such elite athleticism while wearing an increasingly deeper butt groove in the sofa and scarfing nachos.
B) Attended a wedding. Had a birthday.
C) Got a job I don't really care for. Not field related. Kinda menial.
D) Kept up my "try new recipes" resolution.
E) Got the flu.
F) Suffering the heartache of a 3rd NHL lockout.  It's very depressing. Not surprisingly, I side with the players.  I'm starting to develop a facial tick from the withdrawal. My regular ranting and raving is spilling out into all sorts of strange subjects.
G) Joined the local quilting guild and have yet to make it to a meeting.  I had it on my calendar for last night but got a call yesterday for an interview today so I sacrificed the meeting in favour of prepping my portfolio, etc.
H) Got a new job. :-)  A real one. In my field and everything. Happy girl.

Phew! Anyhoo, I'll have more time this week to catch up on two months worth of blog reading.  I've missed ya, folks...

* * * 

I did find time in there to finish up the Swoon quilt I was working on. Of course, by the time I realized it was taking me forever to do the pebble quilting, I was already in too far to back out.  Four solid evenings but I'm really happy with how it turned out. I did a diagonal grid over the centre block to really emphasize the square idea.

 

The background looks a little grey but it's Kona Stone, so it's much warmer and brown than the photo shows. A stick-tap to Seester and Dad for quilt-holding.

It should be pointed out that I wasn't paying them to quilt-hold and it was very close to supper time...

I really took my time with this quilt and as such, my points were the most accurate they have ever been which thrills me to no end....!

I had gotten into the habit of sewing an extra seam on the flying geese blocks so that after I trimmed them, I already had the trimmings made into HSTs. 

 I knew I wanted to use them in the back and with the two leftover blocks but I had no idea how.  So I started playing around with the graph paper.

I ended up with interlocking pinwheels.  The chart became a little map for me and helped me figure out how many plain squares and rectangles I had to cut for the background.

It's all ready to go for the silent auction at the Advent dinner in a couple of months.  I've been asked to provide a minimum bid value for the quilt, though, and I'm stuck.  I don't want to underprice it but I also don't want it to go without bids either.  I was thinking $250 since that's the approximate value of materials, etc., including the 3km of thread. Lol.  What do you folks think?  I'm a little lost...

Regardless, I'm proud of it.

On to Seester's quilt!

Plague

As in, I have it.  Just in time to wreak havoc with assignment due dates, I contracted the plague.  I've been silent on the web this week and literally silent at home the last few days as my voice completely left me.  I'm hacking and coughing, handed in three major assignments and did a group presentation between naps and fevers. On the plus side, I think my abs are benefitting from the non-stop cough riot.

So much for my sewing rampage planned for this weekend.  However, a back-ordered Christmas gift of yarn arrived last Friday, before due dates, a phenomenon known as Murray's Law:  Something you want to do will beckon with ferocity the second you need to buckle down on what you have to do.  Now that I have a bit of a school breather, though not literally breathing all that well, I can knit for a bit guilt-free. Between that and laundering every scrap of bedding and contaminated clothing, my weekend's been quite full.

I've also sewn some hexes and part hexes together for the Teacher Identity Project.  Funny how they don't always go together like you think they will. And how the second you take the foundations out, the middles go all wrinkly.  There are deep life metaphors in the oddest of places...

Firsts

Today is my first day back at university since April.  It's odd to be on the student side of things again and I miss teaching like it's as important to as breathing.  And it is.  Of course, I'm an advocate of lifelong learning, and wearing jeans on weekdays again, but the adjustment is tricky.  Ready to go there but not ready to be here.  Ah, the hoops.

Tomorrow is my nephew's first birthday.  I remember it well for being so very long a day.  The call came at 12:45 am and after a few hours, they sent her home until the afternoon.  I had four classes (one a three-hour night class) that day on two hours of sleep.  I went back and forth between hospital and class all day.  He arrived at 11:30pm.  On his due date.  And has filled my life with so much love, I can't believe it.  I'm lucky that I get to see him almost every day.


I made him a sweater.  With an elephant.

From Vintage Knits for Modern Babies. Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino. Elephant instead of bird.

And towards many other firsts, a second.  I was spoiled by Santa this Christmas and found a new sewing machine under the tree. It's a Janome 4120QDC and it's so zoomy!!!  I love it and can finally learn to free-motion.  It's incredibly quiet (my old Kenmore shook and squeaked the house down) and if I can't manage a scant 1/4" seam allowance, I have nothing left to blame but the operator. I have only just started to play around with all the features and what-not but I'm completely in love.

 I named it Oscar.  Yep, I name things.  Usually British men's names.  My phone is Giles. My iPad is Nigel.  There's also a Hamish, a Kenneth, and a Darwin in my life.  There was a Kevin, but it's still too hard to talk about... :-)  I don't name cars; I find it portends their doom.

From Awful to Aaahhhh!-ful

I am in Edmonton and have discovered the perils of online hotel bookings.

At first, I drove up and found out that the difference between a good part of town and a dodgy one is less than a block.  Then I had that sinking feeling as I parked in the check-in zone and walked in.  It was dark and grotty.  It was dirty.  It smelled. The carpet was buckled.  There was a large tank of green water with what I can only assume were fish behind the algae.  The front desk staff, two of them, were both arguing with customers, one of which was an unattended child left to his own devices for the day.  In my writer's imagination, I'm sure I heard the crackle-snap of a dying fluorescent tube and a malcontented fly.  This picture illustrates the general impression it made on me, though the picture is far more cheerful:

I became uneasy.  My room wasn't ready yet so I left my bag at the desk and went to get the school clothes I was supposed to buy with some birthday money I got (Are you ever too old for birthday money? Thanks, Mum!).  I traipsed through stores I usually have success in but couldn't focus enough to really invest in much.  It was crowded, most of the salespeople gave the impression of being annoyed and almost everything I liked was over-budget or not available in my size.  And I kept thinking about that place...  And I knew I couldn't stay there.

Then the wheel spun back up and when I collected my bag from the [chain hotel to remain unnamed unless you're travelling to Edmonton, in which case, email me], the evening shift front desk clerk was very understanding and didn't charge me any sort of cancellation fee.  I think he sensed I might cry if he said I had to stay there, in Stabby Town.  (Yay for Gary!)

Needing to stick relatively close to downtown, I wandered a little over the river and found the Metterra on Whyte Ave.  Whyte is the loveliest artsy indie strip in Edmonton and if I hadn't been a half-hour drive from it when I lived in Edmonton, I would've had a much different relationship with the city.  The staff has been wonderful, the lobby is gorgeous, they have lovely little perks, I can walk to all the cool shops, restaurants, and my favourite little grocery store in the city.

At the end of a long corridor, I entered this beautiful and tranquil space.

The windows run the length of the room, the brightest and airiest hotel room I've ever had the pleasure of staying in.

There's even enough space to do yoga if I wanted to.  That is, if I weren't wearing the bathrobe and lounging on the comfy bed with tiramisu from the restaurant I had supper, oh so happy that I booked a grotty little room somewhere else.

This is the view:

The haze in the air is the forest-fires burning in British Columbia, not smog.  The smoke hit Saskatchewan two days ago...

And the powder room.

Because I know you wanted to know.

Birth of the Life - 100

I disappeared for a while, lost amid the transitions.  I was hijacked, distracted, and more than a little intimidated by the idea of a hundredth post.   For 100,  I had no desire to write about the latest sweater (though I will), about gutting my closet like the victim of a Roman campaign, a fabulous little meal from a borrowed kitchen and the hands of student chefs (though I will), or relate another anecdote from my button story (but it's coming).  Nothing seemed right to me.  It's a milestone, albeit a somewhat arbitrary one, and I felt the need to mark it.  And after running into an extraordinary teacher today in one of my favourite art gallery/cafes, I had the moment where I figured it out.

There was a sessional lecturer in the Department of Drama that used to teach a theory on breaking down plays, scenes and monologues.  To absorb a piece, it needs to be broken into manageable chunks.  The Birth, The Life, and The Death.  Easily identifiable but still too large.  So you take it further and each chunk has its own Birth, Life, and Death.  The Birth of the Birth, The Life of the Death, and so on.

I'd been in a funk and now I find myself in a swirl of creation and transition, and running break-neck trying to catch up.
I am winding down at the best job I've ever had and winding up to a period of intensity and learning.
I am two weeks from 32.
I am 6 days from the first anniversary of CitricSugar.
I am 4 and a half months from becoming an aunt (and the word from the ultrasound today is Nephew!)
I am no longer who I was _____ (then, before, ago, earlier, once, yesterday).
I am a woman with curlers in her hair.

I am passing out of the Death of the Birth and into The Birth of the Life.

My life.  And I can't wait to get to it.  I had focussed too much on what was already behind me.  The conversation I'd had at the cafe sparked ideas in my brain and sitting in my car after on-campus errands, it struck me.  Time to redirect my attention and ABSORB.  Embrace the metamorphosis!  (Not to imply that I plan on waking up as a beetle tomorrow....  Kafka, anyone? No?)  This is a transformative time and like a photo taken in a mirror, it's tough to get the right perspective.  But it's possibilities that excite me.

I always become a little introspective and often maudlin around my birthday.  As odd as it is to say, one must always remember the future.

You never put curlers in your hair for the present.  :-)

Thank you for joining me for 100 posts of CitricSugar.  Soon, one hundred and one...
Much love, Carly

Scott's Chicken Wings

This recipe was passed onto me by Scott.  Scott is my good friend's sister's boyfriend. (uncle's cousin's dermatologist's paperboy - which makes us as close as Helmet and Lonestar.  Spaceballs, anyone? No?)  I met him once when a large number of us went carousing.  But before we caroused, there was wine.  And tapas.  And these incredibly, ridiculously easy and delicious wings.  I begged him for the recipe.  Begging works.

Ingredients:  

Chicken drummettes or wing tips, or go crazy and get both
Lime juice, about one cup for every 20-30 pieces of chicken  (You can use the RealLime bottled stuff.  It'll be okay.  It's not considered cheating. But using lemon juice would be.  Use the lime.  Do it.)
Montreal Steak Spice.

Yup.  That's the good stuff.

Marinate your chicken in the lime juice for at least a few hours, preferably overnight.  We were lazy today and used ziplocs so that we could turn and flip and toss without a lot of mess.  (Little did we know...  Mess will find you other ways...)
Heat your oven to 350 degrees F.
Place your chicken pieces on greased or lined cookie sheets.  Sprinkle liberally with Montreal Steak Spice.

 Liberally!  With intent.  In fact, just to be sure, when you think you've added enough, turn your cookie sheet one-eighty and check there is no nekkid chicken from the other angle.

Now, I will point out that I over-crowded my chicken today.  Try to only marinate as much chicken as will reasonably fit in your oven.  Also, use a rimmed baking sheet, especially if you plan to over-crowd your chicken.  Why? You can either cook your chicken on rimmed sheets or use one to hold the scrapings of chicken juice-turned-charcoal from the bottom of your oven.  (I did say that mess finds you in other ways...)

I had made these wings before on a non-lipped sheet without incident but today..., today, I over-crowded and it bit me in the ash.  We had three fans going for a half an hour and had to interrupt cooking for a quarter so just use rimmed sheets.  Do it.

Bake your wings for 30-35 minutes.  Flip and be a libertine once more with the steak spice.  Sprinkly wantonly!  Return to oven for another 30-35 minutes or until chicken is browned and beginning to crisp.

Serve with napkins.
Also goes nicely with a side of sports, particularly if your team is doing well.  Go, Riders!

Six Days

In the last six days, I have...

...watched the snow melt...

...and return again...

...baked banana bread...

Asante sana, squashed banana, wewe nana.... Lion King? Anyone? No?

...finished the pencil sketch for a project inspired by many, but this one in particular...

...did push-ups with this guy in the way (Buddy - when I'm swearing and sweating, I don't want to pet you!)...

...and attempted to get into shape.

I am not trying to lose weight but I would like to be able to outrun a toddler and to do so without wheezing. I've done it (the video - not the toddler thing) three times to date, prompted by a kick in the behind (Thanks, Wende!) and, though mine will likely be a "64-Day Moderate Firming of The Jigglier Bits and Ability to Run at Least as Fast as the Vacuum" and not a "30-Day Shred", I'm going to give it my all anyway. As you can see above, I have already died trying and therefore, it can't get worse. I have also remembered everyday to take my vitamins and brush the little dude so the spring shed doesn't end up imbedded in every piece of clothing I own. The pool on how long I can keep this up should prove lucrative. :-) Your entry can be forwarded to.....

Have a terrific one!

Carly

PS - I have decided that they call them calves because when you stretch them too far or overwork them, you make the same noise you would make if you were giving birth to a calf.

Pictures Taken in Doorways

The Romans had a thing about doorways.

Seems if you tripped in a doorway, it was terribly bad luck. This very notion is one of many theories about why brides are carried over a threshold. Can't have the little woman ruining your marriage before it starts, now can you? No one said the Romans weren't a little sexist... (My second favourite theory was read to me from Plutarch by Millie Pontipee during the winter I was kidnapped with 5 other girls and trapped in the mountains, not unlike the Sabine women about whom Millie was reading....) Double girl-points if you caught that reference.

Janus was the god of doorways. Naturally, January was a good month to name after him. He looked in both directions, forward and back, much like we all do this time of year. It's a threshold, a bridge, a period of transition. He was the god of gateways, standing guardian to the gates of War, seldom closed during Roman days and seldom closed in our own, it seems. Once again, I will try to focus on positives for the last year and embrace even the smallest victories headed into the new.

Like coaxing visiting Nephew Cat out of the basement. Sort of.

Like a good hair day.

Like getting to make magnetic poetry at work today. Seriously, it was so much fun...

So, I'm making like Janus: keeping an eye on the past to inform my step but focussing on the future and moving ahead.

A doorway is no place to stand still.

I call this one "Blue Steel".

Listen and learn, Grasshopper

I had a meeting yesterday and now that it seems things are rolling in the right direction, I'm inclined to share.

I am headed back to school and getting my Bachelor of Education degree.

I want to teach. I want to inspire. I want to be inspired. I want to be surrounded everyday by opportunities to learn and to help others find those moments. I want to be a positive influence. I want to see through as many eyes as possible. I want to be kept young and made to feel old at the same time.

I am passionate, driven, motivated, and patient. I am able to command attention. (Someone just choked on her coffee, right A.D?) I am contagious in my enthusiasm. I am a naive idealist. In other words, I am completely out of my mind.

It was not a decision made lightly. In fact, it has taken me ten years to do it. I needed to be sure. I needed to know that I was doing it for the right reasons. I hated those teachers that were only three years older than me who had never experienced anything beyond their own formal education. I hated those people who didn't know what they wanted or didn't really care what they did and chose teaching so they'd have summers off, people who took drama as a fine art elective because they thought it would be easy. Those people whined when it was more than putting on a silly hat and saying "doth" a lot. They still irk me. And their students deserved someone who wanted to be there, who wanted to teach them, who wanted to hear them, instead of just themselves. Being there for the wrong reasons wasn't an option for me. Teaching is a vocation. Teenagers are incredible people with incredible ideas and helping them learn how to think (not telling them, but guiding them to think for themselves) is an incredible responsibility.

Now, I have lived a bit, traveled a bit, and have been searching a whole lot. I am an actor and a writer. And I need something more. I need to feel I'm making a contribution. People find their niche in all sorts of places.

But when I made the decision on this place, I heard the click. And the support coming in has been amazing! When I tell people, they, of course, say "Good for you." Then they stop to think for a moment before adding, "You'd be a great teacher," as though, they hadn't thought about it before but it makes sense. And that's exactly what I need to believe. (If you think I'll be terrible, please don't tell me just yet.... :-)

The meeting was good - I had made sure that I had the classes I would need to get into Education before I left school - so the track to a second degree is much shorter for me come September and admission shouldn't be difficult. This time two years from now, I could be a certified teacher of Drama and English and Russian.

I could also be screaming, "Stop it. STOP IT. I don't care. Get on the bus. GET. ON. THE. BUS."

But, hey, at least I'll get summers off. :-)