Things writers love

A clean desk, some fun pens, a coffee (tea, mulled wine, or Hot Toddy) mug, a retro lamp, and a BIG FAT THICK STACK OF CLEAN FOOLSCAP! Do you remember foolscap? Do they still make foolscap? Maybe. I don't know, but if they do, it's called something else. Because the word "fool" (when used as a noun) is probably some kind of micro-aggressive, unsafe-space, hate speech.

This is cool, and I did not know it. I always thought perhaps foolscap got its name because it made the best dunce caps.

It's about zippers

But it could just as easily have been an emancipatory cry of Victorian women who were sick of riding bikes and horses (to say nothing of playing Battledore and Shuttlecock!) while wearing long heavy dresses. Except that they didn't say "swell" in Victorian times, unless they were talking about bruises and such. 

But don't you just love vintage ads? I do. I thought this was so funny. Not least because zippers were called (by this company at least) "talon fasteners". Napoleon Dynamite would approve. 

Technically swimwear, but at least they were onto something...

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Retro Cookie Charm

Yes, by golly, it's the vintage Tupperware cookie cutters! Did you have these as a child? (In other words, did your mom or grandmother?) Our mom did, and my sisters and I grew up baking with them. So much fun (but I never understood the pig. Why a pig? What holiday has a pig for an emblem? I found only National Pig Day, but that's a bit of a stretch, especially since the holiday only seems to date from 1972! Something to do with Ireland was the best I could come up with, but there is clearly no shamrock associated with the Tupperware piggy.)

Many twenty years ago or so, I was at a garage sale, and I found two of them: the Santa and the gingerbread boy. I was so excited, I bought them right away. But the entire set eluded me (eBay, of course, was not invented back then) Then last year (Christmas 2015), I received this set from the Beazly household. As I vaguely recall, I squealed in a most unladylike fashion when I opened the box and saw them all there. 

It's not a raging wildfire.

Not physically, anyway. Metaphorically, maybe...

It's a Saskatchewan sunset. 

As some of you know (since at least half of DOH readers are related to me by blood or marriage), my mom died two month ago today, on the feast of All Souls', Nov. 2, 2016. (I'm still processing, so that is partly why blogging has been weird and sporadic.)  

The next day, November 3, my husband and three youngest daughters travelled home to the farm where I grew up, to be with my dad and to prepare for Mom's funeral. As we drove along, I was awed by a spectacular, blazing sunset. Photos cannot do it justice, especially when you are taking snaps through a car window, using a smartphone camera, and travelling 100 kph. 

The view changed moment to moment, not only as the sun sank beneath the horizon, but as the pink wispy clouds seemed to drift (or be drawn?) higher and higher toward heaven and the darkening sky. Little snapshots such as these cannot adequately convey the sensation of looking up at the immensity and grandeur of the sky, and how relatively small I felt by comparison.

The wispy clouds reminded me of doves or angels in flight.

As I contemplated the sunset, the words of the poem "High Flight" by John Gillespie Magee, Jr came to mind. Which seemed kind of appropriate on numerous levels. The poet was a young WWII pilot (he died at age 19). Mom was buried on Remembrance Day, Nov. 11, the day we honour our war dead.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

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Madness, yes; Merry, not so much

It is Advent. Advent, people! And yet our retailers are now done with Christmas, and have moved on to Boxing Day (which has become Boxing Week, which--hello!--is still Christmas, as in the Octave thereof, but don't try arguing that with most folk). Christmas is still ten days away, but we are exhorted by Canadian Tire to take part in "Pre-Boxing Week" sales! Oy vay. God rest ye merry, gentlemen. And do try to get some rest in the next ten days.

Compact, functional, and PINK

If I had the cash to do a complete bathroom overhaul, I would do something like this. So cute, so retro, so PINK!!

Of course, this would work best as a Master ensuite, not a family bathroom where five kids were trying to brush their teeth at the same time. I like the amount of storage--cabinets galore! Check out the pop-up vanity mirror (which appears to be lighted) and which would hide all your clutter when not in use. And the germaphobe in me appreciates the easy-clean corners where the floor meets the walls. I'm also loving the corner seat in the bathtub. Leg-shaving is so not fun when you have to sit on the narrow ledge of a tub. 

Picture found at this thoroughly delightful site: Mid Century Home Style.  (If you are a MidMod geek, prepare to waste time  be entertained.)

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Whenever I get the urge to correct bad grammar

I give in. The feeling never passes. 

Poster seen at a local bargain store. Some bargain.

1) The first line should read "work [space] out," not "workout."  "Workout" is a noun, not a verb/infinitive.

2) "Lie" not "lay". Lay is a transitive verb, requiring a direct object. You can lay bricks, or a wreath, or floor tile or an egg. You cannot "lay down."

Yes, I am a grammar geek. It's not about shaming people; it's about defending Western Civ. The way we speak (and write and spell) does matter. Just ask Professor Higgins. Or Dr. Jordan Peterson.
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"If You Have Cake Troubles"

And by golly, who doesn't?! My main Cake Trouble is that I eat too much of it, but that is a story for another day. This post is about cookbooks. Or rather, one cookbook in my collection. 

If there is anything more wonderful than a vintage cookbook, it's a vintage Church-Lady cookbook. This one is from the 70s, from the Bethel Christian (Dutch) Reformed Church in Saskatoon.

I'm not sure what to make of this

When we renovated the kitchen/dining area, Mr. P turned down my request for a fireplace or wood-burning stove to be included. I can't really blame him, since we didn't need it. The area is small, and it stays quite warm enough with the heat from the large windows (southern exposure) and cooking/baking. Plus, there is no seating/lounging area to speak of: I basically eliminated my living room in order to have a large kitchen and adequate dining space. (There goes the resale value...)  And YES, someday I will post Before-During-After pics of the reno, for which DOH fans have been clamouring! (Well, OK, one reader requested photos, on one occasion...but I digress.)

I love the ambience of a fire. And my hubby apparently agrees. I came downstairs the other morning to join him for coffee (he had been up for a while). This was on his tablet, and I thought it was funny. If not strange.  

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He is my hero.

One of many, but I feel a special devotion to him. I watched a documentary, Messenger of Truth, about Blessed Jerzy (Yair-zhee, not "Jersey") last night on EWTN. It was stirring and sad, but also very hopeful. He was instrumental in bringing down Communism in the 80s, in Poland and beyond. As a beatified martyr, Bl. Jerzy provides not just inspiration, but saintly intercession in our own battles with lies and oppression.  I feel blessed to have lived during his lifetime, and to remember the events surrounding his death. 

We need his intercession more than ever before. 

Photo found here. 

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Welcome, birdies!

Not.

Yikes, is that scary-looking frost or what? I've never seen it so spiky. But that's what you get when there is fog day after day, with no wind. These photos are from last week.

One of our regular visitors, a White-breasted Nuthatch:

Winter, take II

I think it's here to stay this time, after our freak early October dump of snow melted away. These pics are from my backyard two days ago:

And now this morning (complete with freezing rain stuck to the window):

It's a good thing my lovely niece Tessie reminded me of the Danish art of 'hygge' yesterday on Facebook. It will help ease the transition.
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I ask you, what chance does a girl have?

Especially an old girl like me, who scarcely ever has the willpower to exercise. I'm trying to lose weight, because a cardiologist told me to, and with good reason, because I am shaped like an apple, not an hourglass. But really, one of my daughters is an aspiring pastry chef, and she gets it into her head any old day of the week to make things like eclairs, cream puffs and (above) chocolate trifle. Not for any special occasion, but just because she feels like it. Which is really lovely, and really delicious, but also really calorific. And there are only five of us at home now (where once there were nine), so the temptation lasts for days and days. Self-control was never so difficult! 

The Lord fills the earth with His love

I was going to title this post: "There's so much ugliness in the world," but that's not very positive, is it? (Even if it's true.) But I started writing the post Wednesday night, and then I became too tired to finish it. It was a depressing week (and I started saying that as early as Tuesday, which is never a good sign): sick kids, annoying financial stuff, gloomy weather, the Blue Jays lost, crimes, war...  And then there's the American election (which I won't discuss), but oy-- there is no possible happy outcome on that score, unless the world ends with Christ's Second Coming before Election Day.

And then I went to Mass Thursday morning, after which in our parish we have Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. The Response to the Psalm was: "The Lord fills the earth with His love," which I thought would make a much better title for a post. Because it's also true, and much of how we live our lives depends on which aspect of truth we choose to focus on. The Lord fills the earth with His love, and some of it comes in the form of Beauty. These are all from my garden.

Prairie storm: the light is always so spectacular.

I can't remember how many years ago I planted this bulb, but this was the first year it bloomed! It only gave me one flower, but hey, who's complaining? Too bad she was splashed by mud, for it had just rained.

My Hollyhocks must have been eight or nine feet tall this year. I wish I'd measured.

If by now, you have concluded lilies are my favourite flower, you are correct. 

But I love Hollyhocks too. The candy-pink ones were lovely this year.

And these! Just gorgeous. I don't know where this strain came from; this is the first year they showed up in my garden, and I couldn't be more delighted. 

A long-shot of my rather messy, un-culled perennial bed.
I call it the "St. Francis bed," because he watches over it, and sometimes gives the birds a snack. 

I love my potted plants too. 

The whole Hollyhock gang, at sunrise. 

When you have insomnia at 5:00 a.m. in July, this is what you do:
 come outside and take pictures of your flowers and the sunrise. 

My pride and joy (actually, one of many): Montenegro Asiatic Lily

Back to Hollyhocks.

A bouquet I made for my Mom and Dad. Everything came from our backyard.

From my rose bush. One of my daughters made this bouquet for me.

Relaxing on the patio at sunset.
"Pace" salsa jars make great tealight holders! (And Pace means "peace" in Latin.)

Good night, sleep tight. The Lord fills the earth with His love.
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