Sometimes a beard is just a way to keep your face warm.

Just ask Mr. P, who grows one every winter (autumn, actually), and shaves it off every spring. But if it's going to become a political statement (make that a politically-incorrect statement), I might try to persuade him to keep it on all year round. Beards are starting to grow on me (and I mean that in a metaphorical, not menopausal, sense).

The link adds to the enormous list of reasons why 90% of modern university programs should be flushed down the toilet. But what more can you expect from a guy who's a grad studynt in womyn's studyys?

 Give me real men any day of the week. And twice on Sundays.

An "affinity for quality"

This is interesting, once you get past the sort of cultish freakiness aspect of it. The Rockabilly community/lifestyle in the U.S. I can relate to much of what the author is saying: many of us North Americans have a visceral contempt for the "disposable “Made in China” culture" in which we live, and feel somewhat angry that we're forced to participate in it, BECAUSE OUR OWN COUNTRIES NO LONGER MANUFACTURE ANYTHING.

An affinity for quality is a good thing, as is the desire to repair and keep things long-term rather than throwing them away (I always knew "recycling" was 60% scam and 39% It Makes Me Feel Good and Environmentally Holy Whilst Still Embracing a Wasteful Consumerist Lifestyle). 

But this common sense approach to life wasn't confined to the 1950s--it existed through most of human history, probably right up until the 1970s. Indeed it is arguable that the 50s in America (with its burgeoning middle class, plethora of available goods and explosion in manufacturing) exacerbated the Industrial Revolution-spawned consumerism that has led to mental diseases like clutter, hoarding and obsessive-compulsive recycling. To wit: I'd be willing to bet that many, if not most in the Rockabilly community (like the guy in the video at the link) are compulsive collectors. High-quality clutter is still clutter, and hoarding is still hoarding.

However, I sympathize on numerous levels. Vintage stuff makes (many of) us feel warm and fuzzy because it takes us back to a time when we felt safe, happy, carefree, and secure (Translation: home = family = love = God). These Rockabilly folks (like the rest of us) are collectors --and participants in this "community"-- because they are searching for something that will fill their souls.

Well, it's a start.

And yes, Mrs. Beazly, there's a book. 
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What's great about mid-January

Is, quite simply, that the month is HALF OVER. 

 Alas, this sentiment sums up the entirety of Advent and Christmas 2013 for me. Low points included:

• sickness. We've had colds, flus, coughs, sore throats etc. non stop since Dec. 16. 
• bad weather (WAY too many consecutive days of wind chill temps in the -30 to -40 C range) 
• due to both of the above: numerous missed events and/or cancellations: recitals, music lessons, meetings, church services, appointments
• my kitchen being dismantled until Dec. 21 (try to guess how much baking or other culinary prep I accomplished)
• extended-family issues: nuff said 
• being stuck in bed with stomach flu on Christmas Day (we missed a multi-family celebration, and the turkey was elsewhere, so my husband and kids literally had to scrounge the larder for Christmas dinner)
• getting in on the local epidemic: rushing a daughter to the ER with breathing difficulties on New Year's Day (eventually she tested positive for H1N1, the influenza strain that has been killing people in my part of the country. She is fine now.)
• just not enough time: I think Advent was only ten or eleven days long this year. At any rate, I have never been so poorly prepared (in every way imaginable) for Christmas in all my life.

But make no mistake, there were many highlights too, for which one must be very grateful. These were: 

• having my daughter NOT die (or even have to be hospitalized) for H1N1 flu (thanks, EMTs, Doc, and ER nurses, lab techs, all willing to work holidays!)
• spending wonderful time with visitors from afar, some of whom I have not seen in years, and some of whom I had never met in person (pre-school nephew and nieces from Oz)
• the turkey turned out well (I cooked one New Year's Day to make up for my family missing the Christmas Day bird)
• finding the source of my chronic back/neck pain and discovering it is CONQUERABLE (thanks, physiotherapy profession and referring physician! You guys and gals know your stuff!)
• my kitchen ceiling is FINISHED (long story, and probably interesting only to me and other reno-nuts)
• a fancy new coffeemaker (best hostess gift ever, from Oz relatives)
• getting addicted to Duck Dynasty (blame credit for this too is laid at the feet of those zany Australians)
• anything containing alcohol
• Salvation re: the Incarnation

For your perusal and edification, David Warren's dissection  of the January Blues. The Reason for the Season is the reason for all seasons, human existence, and eternity. Would that we could hearken.
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The spirits of Christmas past

The spirit of fun, naturally! The 70s weren't all bad. There were some awesome toys. 

"It's the fam-i-ly treeeeeeeeeee-HOUSE!"

I'm willing to bet it's not windy there very often

Which means you could never do this in Saskatchewan. Beautiful and COOL, on more than one level.
Snow art. 

Breakthrough Bagel Technology!

Who even knew such a thing existed? But thank the Lord it does. Your bagel is toasted on the cut side, while the other side (usually burnt by inferior toasters lacking Breakthrough Bagel Technology) is gently warmed. Gently. I'm also relieved to see this model has some "daftey" featured, becaude you wouldn't want to burn yourdelf when toadting bread and bageld and dtuff. Found while Christmas shopping on Amazon. (I won't spoil anyone's surprise; the person who asked for a toaster doesn't read this blog.)

"Bless Pyrene," he said in a husky whisper...

The moral of the story is: it is much easier (and safer) to go out and just buy doughnuts. Vintage ads...so much fun. On the other hand, I was born several decades too late. My fiction could have had a market.  

Life according to Snoopy

I'm living a fairy tale

Hey, no one said which part of which tale...

"Cooking"

Laundry

Vanity...

Reality

Dishes

Sewing

Mending

No comment

Cleaning

Volunteering

Middle age brain freeze: 

Why did I come into this room again? 

Life Philosophy:

That doesn't work...Let's keep doing it

Hormones

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In case you are ever tempted to believe there isn't a God

Proof #1: "Music, music!"
Proof #2: Alice

I want to see this film.



h/t End of Your Arm

The first-rate method to gratify your wife

Do you get tons of emails in your spam folder with that subject heading? So do I. Yesterday I read one, but it didn't say one single thing about kitchen renovation. So much for that idea.

I want this too.

What a lovely tea kettle (too bad it's just a tad pricey for me). Lately, I have been rawther obsessed with kitchen things that are red. Not really sure why. Maybe I'm just getting too old to be neutral. 

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Must. Have.

It will become my favourite coffee mug, and I will drink from it EVERY MORNING and meditate upon the message. I hope it's printed on both sides, so that Mr. P can see it too and follow instructions when the time comes (and it always does). Mrs. Beazly gets credit for discovering the image. Now all that remains is to find a Canadian gift shop that stocks the mugs, cuz Ann Taintor's site won't ship to Canada. (Frowny face!) 

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Angel of God, my Guardian dear...

Today is the Memorial for Guardian Angels. May they speed us on our way to Edmonton (medical tests), where I'll be till Friday. So blogging will undoubtedly be sketchy. 

Found this hymn at the Office of Readings page. You may listen to it performed by Wells Cathedral Choir (click on the podcast link).

Ye Holy Angels Bright

Ye holy angels bright,
who wait at God’s right hand,
or through the realms of light
fly at your Lord’s command,
assist our song,
for else the theme
too high doth seem
for mortal tongue.

Ye blessed souls at rest,
who ran this earthly race
and now, from sin released,
behold your Savior’s face,
his praises sound,
as in his sight
with sweet delight
ye do abound.

Ye saints, who toil below,
adore your heavenly King,
and onward as ye go
some joyful anthem sing;
take what he gives
and praise him still,
through good or ill,
who ever lives!

My soul, bear thou thy part,
triumph in God above:
and with a well-tuned heart
sing thou the songs of love!
Let all thy days
till life shall end,
whate’er he send,
be filled with praise!

Words: Richard Baxter, 1681. Music: William Croft (1678-1727).
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God is gracious

In a million different little ways. For at least the last 18 months, I have been trying to get to the nearest IKEA store (in Edmonton) to check out some kitchen cabinets and other stuff related to our ongoing reno. I would prefer to order my cabinets during one of their "Kitchen Events" because they give back a percentage (10% minimum) in gift cards. When you are spending in the thousands, that's hundreds of dollars worth of basically free stuff.

However, life has just been too busy for us to get away, even for a weekend (how does that happen?). Fate must step in and lend a hand. I had a not-great result on a medical test two weeks ago, and lo, I'm being sent for more testing this Thursday and Friday... in Edmonton.

Then I get an email this morning from IKEA: the next Kitchen Event starts today.

It's not likely that my reno will be completed by Christmas, but if my cabinets are ordered, that's a big step in that direction. And that should do my heart some good.
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I've probably done this before

But if I don't remember it, my readers surely won't. My favourite St. Michael poem, with my favourite picture of St. Michael (on account of its looking all sort of Art Nouveau and stuff). And boy, do we need peace. Happy Feast of the Archangels. 

To St. Michael in Time of Peace

G.K. Chesterton

Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning,
Michael of the Army of the Lord,
Stiffen thou the hand upon the still sword, Michael,
Folded and shut upon the sheathed sword, Michael,
Under the fullness of the white robes falling,
Gird us with the secret of the sword.

When the world cracked because of a sneer in heaven,
Leaving out for all time a scar upon the sky,
Thou didst rise up against the Horror in the highest,
Dragging down the highest that looked down on the Most High:
Rending from the seventh heaven the hell of exaltation
Down the seven heavens till the dark seas burn:
Thou that in thunder threwest down the Dragon
Knowest in what silence the Serpent can return.

Down through the universe the vast night falling
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning!)
Far down the universe the deep calms calling
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Sword!)
Bid us not forget in the baths of all forgetfulness,
In the sigh long drawn from the frenzy and the fretfulness
In the huge holy sempiternal silence
In the beginning was the Word.

When from the deeps of dying God astounded
Angels and devils who do all but die
Seeing Him fallen where thou couldst not follow,
Seeing Him mounted where thou couldst not fly,
Hand on the hilt, thou hast halted all thy legions
Waiting the Tetelestai and the acclaim,
Swords that salute Him dead and everlasting
God beyond God and greater than His Name.

Round us and over us the cold thoughts creeping
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the battle-cry!)
Round us and under us the thronged world sleeping
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Charge!)
Guard us the Word; the trysting and the trusting
Edge upon the honour and the blade unrusting
Fine as the hair and tauter than the harpstring
Ready as when it rang upon the targe.

He that giveth peace unto us; not as the world giveth:
He that giveth law unto us; not as the scribes:
Shall he be softened for the softening of the cities
Patient in usury; delicate in bribes?
They that come to quiet us, saying the sword is broken,
Break man with famine, fetter them with gold,
Sell them as sheep; and He shall know the selling
For He was more than murdered. He was sold.

Michael, Michael: Michael of the Mustering,
Michael of the marching on the mountains of the Lord,
Marshal the world and purge of rot and riot
Rule through the world till all the world be quiet:
Only establish when the world is broken
What is unbroken is the word.
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First pumpkin

I had a hankering to make pumpkin pie yesterday, so I told Miss P #4 to go find the smallest orange pumpkin in the patch. Oh dear. This baby weighed 15 pounds. I think we'll also have Pumpkin Corn Chowder for dinner tonight. I may post the recipe if it turns out.

I have taken up the mandoline

Yes, that's mandoline, with an "e"

Not mandolin, without.

Although it would seem, depending on whom you consult, that both of them could be spelled both ways, so that just makes life more confusing. While I'm sure you could make some form of music with a kitchen slicer, you would not likely be able to julienne carrots with the musical instrument (unless you had really, really sharp strings).

Part of the reason I was not online much this past summer is that I was having a difficult time keeping up with the garden. Still am. As I speak, there are three boxes of tomatoes in varying stages of ripeness, staring me in the face. We have already processed 2-3 large boxes: I made two huge batches of salsa and Mr. P and I have frozen countless 1-liter bags of tomatoes for cooking. And if I see another cucumber before next June, it will be too soon. We discovered, over the course of making a type of marinated sweet pickle, that our two (TWO) food processors cannot slice cukes thin enough. So I decided to buy a mandoline. (Though it will not, I fear, help in any way whatsoever to deal with the 15 or so huge pumpkins still lying outside in the garden...)

I read about a thousand reviews covering mandolines in every price range from $20 to $400. I looked at French models, German models and the ubiquitous models made in China. I'm ashamed to say that I bought a Chinese one (the model pictured above, actually), but in the end I was reluctant to spend a lot of money. The reason for this is that no matter how expensive a mandoline was, it still had some bad reviews. So what's a hausfrau to do? I paid under $21 for it on Amazon. If it ends up getting broken in the next few weeks, I will probably return it and go buy a $139 French one at Lee Valley. (This model was not reviewed on Amazon, but Lee Valley generally carries only good quality merchandise and in any event is very good about returns.)

The Amazon ("Progressive" brand) model arrived the other day, and it seems to work OK. It did a good job of cutting beets (which are super-hard) into matchstick juliennes (raw beets are a great addition to salad, but grating them is incredibly messy. Hint: grate or shred directly onto paper towel, then blot). It also sliced effortlessly through orange skin, to make lovely even slices (Mrs. Jones will be happy to hear this, as it will speed up our sangria-making sessions). And it slices cucumbers very thin, so the sweet-pickle job will not be so onerous next year (we made about 16 liters of sweet pickles this year: that's a lot of hand-sliced cucumbers).

It should also be good for making home-made potato chips (or crisps, as they say in the UK; over there, fries are chips.) And speaking of which, the only thing I was not thrilled with was the fries--the Progressive cuts them too thin and too short. This mandoline will never do the same job as my old Starfrit potato chipper, which gave up the ghost (and several blades) last year.

Also, the Progressive's finger-guard (thing that resembes a derby hat) is a little clumsy to use, so I will probably buy a cut resistant glove to speed jobs along. All in all, I hope it will make a difference making things like soups, salads, stir fry, and pizza, which require a lot of finicky cutting and slicing of veggies. I have had to go on a heart-smart diet recently, so I need to eat a lot more raw veggies. 

Lastly, DOES ANYONE WANT A 30-POUND PUMPKIN (or six)?????

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Not too early to begin Christmas shopping

Because I've decided I want this. If only my husband and kids read this blog. Hey, maybe I could try "talking" to them...

What I did last Friday night

Sat and listened to this. Heaven, but then Chopin usually is. What made it even more wonderful was that it was played by our own western Canadian world-superstar Jan Lisiecki (and AHEM, whoever posted this video, Jan is CANADIAN-Polish, not the other way around. He was born and raised not five hours from where I live.)

Jan played this same Nocturne for his first (of two) encores Friday night. Just beautiful. He is so very talented and yet is still sweet and humble. He treats his audiences with the same professionalism and respect whether he is at the Royal Albert Hall (below) or in a significantly smaller venue, like Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Long may he continue to delight audiences (he is all of 18 years old).



If speed and excitement are your thing, go to this YouTube link to see him play some of the Chopin Etudes from his new Deutsche Grammophon album.
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