Favourite Things

Spidey from Spider Woman Knits asked her readers about their favourite vintage items. Here are a few things I haven’t packed away yet! I really enjoyed photographing my special pieces.

This is a tray my Mother found at a local Goodwill. I believe it is carnival glass. I love the flowers, they remind me of sunflowers. Although they remind me now of dahlias too! I would love to find out more about this dish.

This is a hooked rug I bought a few years ago in Cape Breton Island visiting my Grandmother. The man who sold it to me is a collector of rugs himself.  He said this rug dates to 1920's. It was torn and dirty when I bought it but  the roses were so pretty I couldn't resist. When my Grandmother saw this she told me all about the hooked rugs she had grown up with.  This pattern was familiar to her. 

This is a beaded necklace my other Grandmother sent to me many years ago before she died. They look like cloisonné and the clasp is my favourite part. 

This is a cute kitty shaped key-holder. I've treasured it since I was a child. It is my Mother's. 

This is a teacup and saucer I bought in Cambridge, the city my Mother was born in, I love the cheerful yellow with the orange bouquets.

This is something very special to me. It belonged to my Grandmother. My Mom found it in her home after she died. I had been telling Mom how much I wanted a tray/cup combo like this I saw at Ikea. Then she came home with this beautiful piece, much better than anything Ikea could produce. I happen to love bids so this couldn't be more perfect.

All creatures of our God and King...

...I really love that hymn.

I read Cjane. I really love her blog. I love her selfishness, her devotion to husband and family, her enjoyment of life. I love that she is so open about who she is. She gave me this recipe for macaroni and cheese that is absolutely divine. But there was one post, over three years ago, that I recently read as I was browsing the archives. It was about a dog she lost, got caught and left at the pound to be euthanasized alone. Her decision really hurt me, although it has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to blast her decision, but I can’t get that post out of my mind. 

This winter D. and I found a dog. He was running around in the snow on a bitter cold night in January. 

“There is a dog running around outside your house” D. phoned me to say after he left that night to go home.  

Without any hesitation I replied, “Come back and help me catch him”.

He did and we did. The dog was so friendly and beautiful. I thought he was a greyhound at first. He wasn’t – he was skin and bones. He had a cut on his nose. He was shivering and scared. My heart broke to see him. I don’t even like dogs that much. I am so, so, a cat person. 

Since I had a sick (fat) cat in the house, the dog couldn’t come inside. We built him a nest in our garage out of the cold. Wool blankets and cardboard layers did the trick. He curled up gratefully. We procured a can of dog food and fed him. 

That night I named the dog Mr. Love and formed visions of D. and me with a dog in our life together. I fed Mr. Love the next morning before work. D. came over later in the morning with a leash and collar to walk him. 

Sadly, oh so sadly, Mr. Love got away from D. He just wouldn’t come back to him, no matter how much he followed and called to him. Mr. Love ran out of our lives that day forever. 

I firmly believe that animals exist perfectly just as God made them, and that he made them to live. For me, there is a duty owed to a pet to care for it, as best as you can, until the end of its life. And of course I know many people do not feel this way. (I am also a firm believer in the idea “free to be you and me”).

I still find myself thinking about that dog and what could have been. There will be a Mr. Love II in my life someday…

Worst-case senario: no ferns!

I had a wedding day nightmare last night. The reason is this: D. has finished the huge remodelling project he has been doing for his mother’s kitchen.

He informed me that he is focusing on our wedding plans now. (ha!)

So we went over the details.

And going over details gave me a stomachache.

And the stomachache gave me the nightmare.

Everything that could go wrong went wrong. I saw my beautiful bouquet so, so not what I ordered. No ferns! It nearly broke my heart. 

So today I splurged (read: over spent) on a beautiful cake topper that has been haunting me since I first saw it many months ago. Lisa from Perch52 on Etsy stole my heart with her birds. The colour isn’t matchy-matchy to my scheme but I cannot deny those creamy birds. With plumes. 

In or Out

Sometimes I feel like the joy has gone out of my life.

I have resisted growing up ever since jr. high. I suffered for years with an inability to just eat – I controlled my body unmercifully. And I stayed small and child-like, in body and, I fear, in mind. I see myself in the antics of D.’s 6-year-old niece. I am jealous. I am demanding. I am whiny.

And worst of all, I never knew what I wanted to “be” – I never set an academic goal for myself beyond gaining admission to university to satisfy my parents (of course, in my desire for control, I worked until I got into UofT).

At times I believed I wanted to be a housewife – and as I’ve become an adult this is an acknowledged dream of mine – but I can’t discern if this is a real dream or a cover for something else. I never allowed myself to dream about what I could be – I always found reasons why such-and-such a thing was not for me.

I also know I have a deep-rooted attachment to home. I hate having to leave my home in the morning. My favourite days are when I can be at home all day.

Today is one of those beloved days, and when I feel like maybe staying home is a real dream for me.

I put an apron on today and made pizza dough.

I improvised a recipe for bean veggie burgers.

I struggled with and won a battle with a jar of homemade tomato purée.

I sat for an hour with a cup of tea feeling the wind through an open window.

I let the cats out, then in, then out and in again, and fed them a midday snack.

I watched Ricardo make orzo and pork on TV, in French, because I adore him and his recipes. I am envious of his beautiful kitchen and Viking ovens.

My pizza is ready for the oven as soon as my father gets home.

And you know, I don’t feel as blue as I did when I began this post. 

Shopping Trip

I have a confession to make. I love shopping but I hate spending money. As the prices ring up at the register I become seriously grumpy. But at the same time I love choosing out things I like and use. I generally put off clothes and shoe shopping until I really, really need new stuff…because I’ve worn everything else until its ready for the ragbag.

My excuse today is I am about to get married and go on a honeymoon. We are going to Portugal, which is the land of his relatives. I will be meeting everyone in his family who couldn’t make the trip to Canada. It’s a super scary prospect. I’ve heard Europeans are really fancy! All the Europeans I know in real life are really fancy, and people, I am the opposite of fancy!

I went to Yorkdale Mall. Old Navy did me wrong with their sizing. I refuse to buy a larger size when I know in my soul that at any other store, I am a size 8. Old Navy can keep their rags! 

On to H&M, which I have never really liked per se. There is almost too much selection for my enjoyment…but I bought quite a few cute tops and two skirts. And oh, how those small prices turn into a big bill at the end of it all.

I stopped by Brown’s, a shoe store where I had window-shopped the cutest pair of gold flats.

I really needed black walking shoes for all the sightseeing I plan on doing. But I didn’t want to leave those gold beauties behind. So I didn’t.

I have a lot of issues with my feet. I inherited these wonky foot problems from my father, with "fallen  arches" included. From my mother, I received wide feet. The result is my feet have a shape that most shoes cannot accomodate. Shoes in general are torture devices to me. I have a closet full of flats that I can barely walk in. Heels are out of the question for my day to day life. I only wear heels for parties where I can sit down. Its really a problem for me. I am considering surgery to correct my feet but surgery!

Anyway after shoes it was time for a purse. I really wanted a Michael Kors bag but people! the prices! I gazed from outside the store and kept on going. I found something similar at Aldo. Sadly it smells, and not like buttery leather. It’s cute, though. One day an MK bag will be mine!

I made a quick trip to Danier leather for a passport holder (I have always wanted a passport holder but have never had a passport before now). Then I found some cute sandals at American Eagle so I picked those up for the beach.

The funnest (I don’t care it that’s not a word) thing was talking with the salesgirls about my trip. I met so many Portuguese women! It is extremely nice to be engaged because regular people are so nice to you.

Now that I’m home and I’ve added up my receipts I think I will have to wait at least 6 months before I can go shopping for me again…

Home of our Hearts

Canadian Boat Song
Anonymous


Listen to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores -
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather
All your deep voices as ye pull the oars;

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.



From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas -
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.


We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,
Where 'tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,
In arms around the patriarch banner rally,
Nor see the moon on royal tombstone gleam.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.


When the bold kindred, in the time long-vanished,
Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,
No seer foretold the children would be banished,
That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.



Come foreigner rage - let Discord burst in slaughter!
O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore -
-The hearts that would have given their blood like water
Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.


Cape Breton 2009

Rebirth

It’s Holy Saturday and after the harrowing traditions of Good Friday I am looking forward to Easter. I want to tell you Fat Cat’s story. It seems appropriate for the hope Easter brings.

Introducing Fat Cat

Fatty came to us as a sweet little kitten Christmas 1997. She was 5 weeks old.

Ten years later, in 2007, we believe she was poisoned. She may have gotten into something around the house. It may have been an over-the-counter flea treatment we used on her. We found her moaning and lethargic. It was horrible. Our sweet little Fat Cat looked like she was dying. An emergency trip to a 24-hour vet clinic showed an enlarged heart and constipation. After an enema she returned to us as happy as she had ever been. We were given some pills for her heart and sent home.

The strange episodes occurred again - Fat Cat moaning and peeing herself while laying on the floor. A trip to our vet and no definitive answer – “maybe poisoned.”

After a few months of health, Fatty refused food for a few days. We had no idea how dangerous this is for a cat. Her liver began to have problems. The vet diagnosed “fatty liver” and she was kept on intravenous fluids overnight. This happened three more times.

Our Dr. M. explained that when a cat feels sick for any small reason, they sometimes stop eating and drinking, which sends them into real health issues, for Fat Cat, it was “fatty liver”.

After months of these treatments, she was getting thinner and thinner. After her last fluids treatment she still refused to eat. We had to ask ourselves if we had done all we could for her. Maybe it was time to euthanize. Our vet did not give up on her, and suggested a feeding tube as a way to feed her in the hope that she would improve. We were told that cats have a very good recovery chance with this procedure. We did it.

Feeding tube in and cone on

It is awful, heartbreaking and a lot of work. Fatty came home with a tube in her neck and a huge bandage around her body. We had so make a slurry of wet cat food and water, and inject it into the tube with a large syringe every 4 – 6 hours. This went on for 4 weeks. My memories of this time are fuzzy and we had some problems with the tube moving around. Eventually the tube was removed and she was eating and drinking with gusto. If anyone out there is reading this and considering this procedure, and you are dedicated to nursing your pet do it. It seems like a procedure that only a crazy person would agree to for their pet, but it saved our cat’s life and she is still with us today, three years later, because of it.

Feeding tube removed - she is shaved from the intravenous treatments and tube insertion

Her medical problems didn’t end there. About a year later, she began losing weight until she was literally a bag of bones. More tests and we learned that she has diabetes. Again, if you have a diabetes diagnosis, don’t let it frighten you. If you have to time and the will, shots twice a day will be worth it. We monitor her glucose at home and give her Glargine, and she is back to her happy self. She recently had some bad teeth removed, which were exacerbating her diabetes.

Today, on Holy Saturday, she is enjoying the fresh spring air and life in general. She is happy and well loved. When I saw her at her worst, all bones and so fragile, yet still playing and purring and living, I felt that her fighting spirit was a lesson to me. We can endure. We can overcome. Fat Cat was dying more times than I care to count, and this spring she’s had a rebirth of sorts. She is the healthiest she’s been since 2007.

Today enjoying Spring

Happy Easter to everyone.