sinister pickles

The jar on the end, slightly separate, the loner, did not seal. They shall be banished.

Poor neglected blog

As usual of late, smith and i are off in our separate corners in the blue light, tapping away. The moon outside is almost full, the babies are sleeping, both getting awfully long and lean. I just finished unpacking from last weekend and am packing again for this one. I managed to sneak in not one but two movies out this week -Ratatouille and the latest HP. Feel spoiled rotten. Made ratatouille yesterday with a big zuccini that I snagged in our veggie basket this week. Food movies always make me want to cook and eat their featured food - Tam PoPo was frustrating because all we had in the house at the time to satisfy our noodle craving were instant noodle packs.
I even made pickles today, four jars of them. They are sitting on the counter now. I am waiting for the one on the end to seal. I used my mom's recipe - dill and garlic on the bottom and top, 12 parts water, 4 parts vinegar, 1 part salt. Monkeyboy was eager to help-got himself a pickle-poking stick and started hacking off dill for me. The kitchen was a glorious mess. He was very interested in the pickle-cucumber connection as he loves cucs but hates pickles. "Are cucumbers pickles? Do cucumbers come from real live mommies?" (This i think from the talk about "baby" cucumbers. ) Which reminds me of a discussion we had about chimpanzees. I said that chimpanzees were a lot like humans and he said "Yes, they give birth to live young." That boy knows his mammals dangit!
He insisted on packing the last jar of pickles himself.

transference

Reading about Matisse will not make me paint like Matisse, will it? Or reading about Virginia Woolf thinking about writing Mrs. Dalloway will not make me look like a century tree, will it? Summer is so goddamned beautiful and there are so many books out there. I am deep into the pool of summer reading. Thank you God for late July and fine novels and deep lakes.

mariposa for meg

Even before you add in the music and the beautiful craftspeople Memorial Park is an idyllic spot. Curving out into Lake Couchiching, lots of beautiful tall trees catching the breeze. Green and blue luscious summer. Monkeyboy loves MusicPark as he calls it. He stretches out his jackrabbit legs and runs and runs and runs (after getting his face painted as a cat of course). And then he swims and swims and swims. And swims some more. He even sat down for five minutes of music and Auntie K helped him make a nifty cardboard box guitar covered with wood-grain mactac. Very cool.
Highlights for me included: The Bill's crazy super-long klezmer bluegrass finale - I was sitting right down in front on a blanket - standing, dancing by the end of the set; Hawksely Workman's monologue about the sexual confidence of the insects that swarmed the mainstage; hearing Madrigaia again and again, all over the park; the Sadies' suits and There is a Higher Power; Chuck Baker's Northern Town song(sorry i didn't catch more of your sets Chuck); Matt Anderson as a blues-playin hair-flingin force of nature; seeing Ron and Lisa at their booth; seeing musicians playing Ron's gorgeous guitars at their booth; convincing almost all of my women relative and friends to buy a pair of Sarah Apple's block printed beaver undies; Lisa modelling said undies over her jeans; Amy Millan's hat and her ultimate down-to-earthedness; Gregg Hobb's funny divorce song; running into the parents of an old friend; running into family; running into more family; running into still more family; Jill Barber's gorgeous voice; women musicians wearing sundresses and cowboy boots;crazy ass lightning storm swirling around Gordon Lightfoot; deep, deep downpour while waiting in the parking lot to go home.
Wish I had had an instant polaroid transfer photo done by Melanie Gordon at her booth. Very gorgeous - check out her link at the side here. Lisa had one done and I was jealous and admirous. Am also covetous of quilted wall hanging purchased by Pip from Katherine McLellan. BUT I have two totally gorgous paintings evocative of the view from an airplane coming in at dusk over Toronto and they make me feel lifted every time I see them. Thank you beautiful and talented Lisa Belanger!!(she is related to me eh?).
Can't wait until next year.

here i yam

Tired, tired, tired. I want to write about our great weekend at the Mariposa Folk Festival but I am just too dang tired. Lightning, blues, beer, lakewater, kids, klezmer, blankets in front of the stage, ice cream, watermelon, sweet melodies, shady lazing, long lake views laid over with acoustic riffs, funny undies, coolers, tall trees, cat-face painting, piggy backs. All goodness but it made me very zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

summer damp

I love our old house but there's an old house smell that comes out in the summer, a damp dirt smell, especially after the rain. Makes me want to light a fire.
We have been busy already this summer - spent the weekend in Niagara with the cherries and the wine and the falls and the stunning lake views and the tourists. I got a little giddy by the falls, I always do. It always amazes me that you are allowed to get so close to them. Does anyone else feel a little worried that they might not be able to resist the urge to fling themselves in? They are just so damned magnetic, elemental. Yeah, in spite of heat, kids, zoo atmosphere, still awesome.
We found some ok sushi for lunch at the kiosks and a french-speaking woman at the plastic table beside us wove a grasshopper - "une sauterelle" - for Jack out of a long blade of grass. Then we headed up the parkway to the Butterfly Conservatory. Also awesome in spite of insane crush of humanity. Monkeyboy and googirl were filled with delight, faces up, fingers out. Sweet.
My mom rocks. She tagged along and babysat the kids so we could go to a wedding and sample figs and champagne on a vineyard patio. Our table at dinner had great lengthy pop culture conversations.
Hitting the road on the way back from Niagara-on-the-Lake, Monkeyboy said "I'm not sleepy or anything, but are we halfway home?"

the crack cocaine that is facebook

At a wedding in wine country, a couple of Saturday nights ago our table spent hours discussing pop culture. No one else at our table had kids - not one single toilet training, feeding, sleeping anecdote was heard. It was fun and heady but I felt kind of queasy when we started discussing cyber entertainments like facebook and second life, both of which kind of creeped me out. I know, I know and here I am blogging about it so who's the junkie, really? And, you guessed it - I am a full Facebook junkie as of two days ago.
Also, I seem to be at the centre of a karmic reconnection vortex (am really into that word this week - VORTEX!!), facebook being the least of it. As Smith just pointed out, maybe this is a symptom of blogging, thinking that it is all about me. (Hey buddy, aren't you the one reading Cosmos and Psyche?).
I guess the question I am asking myself is are some kinds of connection better than others? More and more I am thinking that is snobbish and holier-than-thou and that the universe is just saying connect! connect! i don't care how! Like that scene in Barbarian Invasions where the daughter says goodbye to her dying father via an emailed satellite video.
More later. Must sleep. Maybe I will just check my facebook one more time......