The Complex Life

Safiya took this picture on the subway the other day. I love it.

Someone said, roughly speaking, that the "simple living" movement is a misnomer; that's it's really complex, rich, meaningful living that we're after, and that "simple" does not mean "easier". My life has certainly felt like that recently. Rich and busy since the last time I posted. So, to kind of update on at least one layer of my life:

Our neighbour removed the 10'x10' metal shed in our backyard so now Safiya has the largest sandbox (read "mudpit") ever...Hmmm, what else? I'll probably expand a lot on some of this stuff later, but since right now I'm supposed to be getting ready for the Leslieville Tree Festival tomorrow, here goes:

There was the day that my friend Katharine and I decided it was a great plan to take our four kids to the Textile Museum of Canada's annual fabric sale, walk a couple of subway stops to Royal Ontario Museum, and then top the day off with another friend's school fair (they all slept really well that night) ::


A new icecream place opened up right across from our favourite local park (bad idea, really bad idea :-) :: There's been the conflicts and dramas of childhood played out in said park, with many hugs and the stretching of confidence and bravery and the holding tight of her hand :: She had her friend over for her first sleep-over ::


Bike Pirates is a new favourite haunt, where Safiya has handled a wrench with much frustration and little aplomb, but has made new friends and changed her first set of brakepads (I'm so so proud) :: we've got a homemade bike trailer in the works ::


She and I went out of town with friends for a couple of days :: my good friend Lara's much anticipated baby was born, safe and sound (yay!) :: There have been visits from family, a graduation, and much last-minute house cleaning :: A rather dismal craft fair last weekend :: The farmer's markets have started up :: Music and swimming lessons have ended for the summer, and beach season has started ::



And in-between everything there are books to be read, questions about advertising on cereal boxes to be discussed, sarcasm to be discovered, popsicles to be bought with her own money, really bad jokes to be laughed at, sculptures of dinousaurs to be made, food to be made, arguments to be had, and a lot of laughing.

She's getting really big. And it's happening so very fast.

The Litterless Lunch and Food Fit for a...

King? Queen? Sultan? A hungry kid and her mom.

Today is Wednesday, which means we have lunch at Sultan's after swimming lessons at the community centre. We are fortunate to have an amazing network of community centres in Toronto which provide an astonishing array of classes for large and small for very little money. We are also fortunate to have people like Tamara and Samer who provide the yummiest falafel ever, not to mention homemade lentil soup, vegetables with garlic sauce, and other delectable handmade Jordanian food (vegan and gluten-free not even on purpose!)....mmmmm.....it's only 8:45 in the morning and yet I crave already.....that's Tamara walking away in the picture below, protesting the picture :-)


Safiya has been taking classes at this particular community centre for a couple of years, so it is a ritual and delight to walk in at lunchtime. She orders "the usual" and has started being in charge of the money, and we chat with Tamara and Samer and watch Danforth Avenue life pass by, usually playing "I Spy" as we eat.


That white sauce on the vegetables is the garlic sauce. It's basically just garlic and oil blended together. Soooooo good.


This Wednesday ritual has also provided me with an opportunity to practice and perfect the litterless lunch. We try to eat mostly at home, but it would be foolish to pass up good Toronto food and the opportunity to support our small restauranteurs, so I always carry our water bottle and cutlery roll with us. And now, I've added a couple of tiffins (got them here, but I'm sure there are many places to get them) and, on Wednesdays, a lug-a-mug (Tamara makes Safiya a special sweet black tea with fresh mint that we savour on the way home). At Sultan's they gladly fill up the tiffens instead of the foam one-use dishes that are offered, as do most restaurants if you ask nicely and just emphasize that you're weird that way :-) Or, even better, with a smile say that you're trying out the first "R"; the reduce one. Most of the time no explanation is necessary, which is great.


The tiffins took a while to take, as with any new habit, but they're perfect for picnics, which we will be doing a lot more of as the weather gets warmer, and, also important, leftovers from restaurants, even ones that are sit-down with china (apparently if you have kids, you have left-overs :-) I don't know the energy input required to make these, but they're light, unbreakable, I can pass them down to Safiya, and they're better by leaps and bounds than recycling, which also requires high energy input and doesn't always happen as it's supposed to. Sometimes the recycling thing seems to me to be just a salve on the eco-conscious, kind of like buying indulgences were to the church in the Middle Ages.

So, if you're in Toronto, say hi to Tamara and Samer at Sultan's, which is at the north-east corner of Main Street and Danforth Avenue. And bring your tiffin :-)

Mending Mondays: Evolution of a Patch

Remember the yelling hole in the pair of cords that I was working on patching? Well, two weeks ago I finished it, with little ado but a lot of satisfaction. So, using the tutorial that I posted worked fantasticly (is that a word?), although when it states "most pants have extra fabric that you can steal from to make a patch to match" (maybe that's another tutorial I'm thinking of - I vetted a lot of patching tutorials, you know :-) this is not true of factory made pants made by say, G*P (that's a swear word around here). They are stingy! I had to steal that little extra front pocket that I only ever use for tampons, and since these are destined for a guy friend, I doubt he'll miss it....

Here's that hole:


1. Inside reinforcing patch (just used a scrap of mine) to prevent further tearing, pinned, seen from the wrong side (the inside of the pants):


2. Seen from the right side:


3. I basted it on the right side so that I could see where I was going, and knew to stay on the inside of the pins:


4. Basted patch, seen from the wrong side:


5. I zigzagged around the edges of the patch:


6. Seen here from the right side of the pants:


7. And then, on the right side of the pants, zigzagged the edges of the hole (I know, this is getting really ugly):


8. So, the inside reinforcing patch is done. Now, made a matching patch from that little pocket and sewed it on the outside. Now, ideally, you'd have enough fabric to turn in the edges better and be picky about whether the patch itself was already a little worn, but whatever:


Ta-da! Considering that he said not to be to picky 'cause they're just hanging around pants, but they're his favourite, I say "not bad!" and pat myself on the back.


It's a crazy number of pictures for such a little thing, but I went a step further than the other tutorial by adding an outside patch as well. I think it's a really effective, thorough way of repairing clothes, and I fully intend to keep doing it this way. Also, I have to teach Safiya how to do this, 'cause she's just taken a pair of scissors to her newest jeans that she got from Granny. When I asked her about it, she said, "That's o.k.! We can just patch them!" Ha!

In Which a Young-ish Woman's Brain and Body Start Arguing

I found this awesome pillowcase on Mother's Day. It made me laugh out loud in the thrift shop. Seriously? Ahhh, 1976 (it says so on the pillowcase).

I need pillowcases like this to remind me of everything. Could you imagine? I mean, if you sat and embroidered or silk-screened "email your cousin" or "pick up soymilk" on a pillowcase, you would remember, right?

It's been a month, almost. For a while there I was falling asleep with Safiya at 9pm, which does wonders for tiredness (kind of) but nothing for blogging. And then it got into the guilt loop of if-i-take-a-look-at-the-blog-it-will-remind-me-that-i've-neglected-it. And then life got a bit crazy, and there were obligations and duties just like there aways is, and grabbing moments while I could became very important. It's odd that although this place is a retreat for me in many ways, to someone on the other side, the majority of my life and joys and fears and worries and work are in the background. It's like I've put a really pretty flower-shaped-crafty tatoo on my arm that becomes a focus, an identity, but there's the whole rest of my body that is covered up.

And I feel that writing only about the tatoo is becoming limiting.

This may go somewhere, it may not. For once, I'm not promising anything...

Green Dress for a Green Award

This is one of my favourite fabrics, and I've been saving it for something special. Tonight is the Green Toronto Awards, and Not Far From The Tree is a finalist! Yay! Safiya and I are invited with Laura to the reception beforehand, and then Mr. S. is joing us for the awards later in the evening. I'm really excited for Not Far From The Tree - cheer for us!


I made it this morning, out of a pink tablecloth (the back), that favourite fabric of mine (which was an apron), some other scraps, and some vintage buttons. Green dress for a green award (we hope!) - an offering to you, dear readers, to balance out how curmudgeonly I was yesterday. I was thinking late last night that maybe Earth Day for some people is like Christmas for others. It doesn't make sense to waste resources in the middle of a long cold winter to have a big party, but sometimes it's what people need. It's the corporate "sponsors" that irk me, not the people I know, my neighbours, celebrating Mother Earth :-)




Now, I need to give Safiya a bath to remove the honey from her person before we leave....

I'm so excited! Wish us luck!

EVERY DAY IS EARTH DAY

Yes, that's me yelling. This is my obligatory Earth Day post. Mostly, "Earth Day" makes me feel like cussing.

So, two quotes. The first, from one of the best movies ever, The Princess Bride. The second, from Ali, the prophet Muhammad's son-in-law, who became fourth Caliph of the Islamic Empire in 656. You can regard whichever one you like as the most authoritative.

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

"Truly the destruction of the earth only results from the destitution of its inhabitants, and its inhabitants become destitute only when rulers concern themselves with amassing wealth, when they have misgivings about the endurance of their own rule and when they profit little from warning examples."

Now, I'm going to go back to clapping my hands to save Tinkerbell......

Mending Mondays: Mending Myself

The cold knocked me out. The rain knocked the kitchen ceiling out. This means that as soon as I recover I'll be on the phone trying to find a roofing company who will just do repairs and not try to convince me to replace our whole roof. Of course, if the guy with the dreads in this video came and told me to replace our roof, I'd do it in a heartbeat ;-)



Don't ask me how I found that. Sometimes a girl just wants to know how to make shingles. (ahem. he shows up at 4:55 by the way. you know, in case you're wondering.) And randomly, the only good thing about getting a wicked cold and sore throat is that I get to crack open one of the last jars of garlic I made in the fall:


Mmmmmm dill pickled garlic. That'll cure 'ya.

And, unfortunately, keep the cute shingle guy away. sigh.......




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

p.s. yes, i know it's tuesday again. i started this post yesterday and then went for a nap. sorry - one of these days my body will catch up with my brain :-)

Hunt and Gather at The Workroom

I love The Workroom. Karyn lives craft. It can't get much better than that. And she's created such a welcoming space; it's airy and cosy, which is quite a feat. Too bad it's on the other side of town from me, but that makes it more of an event for me when I do get down there.


And the fabrics! I do my best to only buy second-hand fabrics, but I think the biggest compliment I could give to Karyn's fine eye is that her selection has tempted me many a time to fall off that particular wagon ;-) (I haven't given in yet, but I think it's inevitable....)


The show today was lovely - not quite as hopping as the last one, which was actually good because I'm fighting whatever cold nastiness Mr. S. has and I'm feeling a little lopsided. This allowed me to peruse many of the craft books that Karyn has for sale (and perusal :-) So, my pictures may be a little lopsided too - for a better idea of the whole day and to check out the other vendors' loveliness, check out Karyn's pics.


All of the vendors (links here) are truly talented and it's a joy to see all the jewel-like cases of goodness spread out like a specially selected, intimate, and well considered bazaar. My case was a jumble, as usual - I've really got to work on my visuals, I think. I got to hang some stuff (thanks Becky!), which helped a lot.


Mr. S. is unwell, and since I was feeling it coming on, Safiya stayed home with him, which was just as well, but I did miss her. Lately Mr. S. and she have started a tradition; whenever I do a trunk show here, they make a new piece of clothing for the resident doll, something which Karyn very kindly gave her blessing to. Miss Doll will have to wait until next time, sad to say.


I slipped out a bit early, slugged home, and am curled up pathetically in the spare room. At least most of the day was really nice :-)

The Story of the Mountain of Sweaters

I have an Aunt and Uncle who are great jokers, storytellers, and generally good to hang around with. Come to think of it, most of my aunts and uncles are like this. But, growing up, this particular couple was always regaling us in amazement with tales of how things just "happened". Coincidences, good luck, or what have you; good stuff somehow always happened to them. They were always so lucky.

As I got older I realised two things: one, they work very very hard, and two, they are genial people, that is, they talk...to practically anyone, and they pay attention. And so, I believe, they make their luck. This was an important lesson for a serious, reserved introvert such as I.

And so, I'm glad my Aunt and Uncle are in my life, because without them, I would have never met Sara (well, I'm glad for many other reasons, obviously), and without Sara I would never have been able to fill my latest order.


Sara was at Seedy Saturday. She was selling recycled sweater longjohns (coolest thing ever - she did the One of a Kind here in Toronto, and she's got an etsy shop - check out the cute undies - but I really wish she would make more of these!). We started chatting about craft, and then she said these magic words: "so I've used all the arms on all these sweaters, but what am I going to do with the bodies? I have a mountain of wool sweaters at home!" Well...


Seedy Saturday was fantastic (I was there with Not Far From The Tree - that's another post), but underneath was this panic gnawing at me: how was I going to fill an order for three (turned into four later) wool blankets all at the same time? That's a lot of Value Village coasting.


I got up courage and mentioned that I might be able to help, or that she could help me? Later that week she emailed me an invite to come over and there was this amazing picture attached:


So I went over, found out she's a wonderful person, and that it was true: she did indeed have a mountain of wool sweaters. We bartered a bit and voila! (although I still owe her a pie :-)


Now I have a tiny mountain of done blankets.

Thanks Sara!

After the Long Winter...

Hey! It's really spring! The signs are everywhere; today we finally had warm-even-without-a-jacket weather, chalk drawings adorn our neighbourhood sidewalks, and bluebells are gracing the lawns.


That, and the sidewalk-painting/mud-making fun has begun:


At the end of the day, I sat on our slightly dilapidated front steps with mending on my lap, delivered pizza in my hands, dirt standing in for a front lawn before me with dirty children in it making believe, Mr. S. to lean on, and the warm sun caressing my face.

...and I said to myself, "what a wonderful world"...

Mending Mondays: Patches

Yes, I know it's Tuesday. I started patching late last night after some other work because our usual Monday morning routine was delightfully topsy turvey due to visiting Granny, so let's get on with it, shall we?

Now, these holes look suspiciously square. As in, cut-out-with-scissors square. Hmmm.....


This one, however, seems to be yelling at me:


Probably because I promised the owner of this particular pair of pants that I'd mend them... a year ago. sigh. I suppose I should work my way through this pile and not try to compost it.

Last April I patched a couple pairs of Safiya's pants, and I learned a lesson. The hard way. Patches are great, but it would be a much better idea to actually fix the hole so that little toes don't get caught in the gaping-ness of the old jeans as they're making their way down while getting dressed. I thought that patches fix holes. They do not. They cover them.

I found this really good tutorial on how to fix holes, which I'm in the middle of trying with these cords. In the tutorial the stitching is left bare, but I'll try adding another patch on top, just to pretty it up.

As for those other little holes in Safiya's clothes, I did some basting tonight while Mr. S. read evening Winnie-the-Pooh stories aloud, so I did get some zen-like mending in anyway, which was nice :-)

night-night!

Changes

For many years, my brother-in-law Z. lived with us while he was in law school, and included in the many changes that have transformed a lot of the space in our house lately was the re-doing of his old room, or, as we now call it, the "spare room", or, the "kids' room". Not "Safiya's room".

There was no way this was going to be "Safiya's room". Mr. S. and I could care less, but it was interesting to see her reaction when we talked about moving some of her stuff in there.

"But I sleep in our room. (pause) It's o.k. if my toys are in here. (another pause) Will Granny still sleep in here when she comes to visit?....Hmmmmm.....maybe I could try sleeping in here once. But just once. (head nodding up and down with finger pointing for emphasis) Because I sleep in our room."

And that's perfectly fine with us, because just like everything else, she'll make changes in her life, whatever they are, when she's ready to.


Case in point: I've been working hard to finish up an order of wool blankets, and today Mr. S. came to me and said "I have an idea". huh.

His "idea" was that he and Safiya could go ahead today and travel out-of-town to visit family as we had planned this weekend, and I could stay, finish the blanket that I needed to, and join them...tomorrow morning.

This sounds like a normal plan. No problem, right? One small detail. I've never slept away from her. Even when I've been really really ill, the farthest I've been is the next room. Mr. S. has had to endure nights away from Safiya, but not I.


I said, "Um, o.k.?" and that was that. Good thing that I had work to do, because what else was I supposed to do all night? Sleep? Clearly not. Two things:

First, when she called from my father-in-law's house to talk to me before bed, I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried a little. It was her little grown-up voice, and knowing it was coming from that far away.

Second, when there were plans being made today about the trip, when I walked into the kitchen, Safiya turned to me and said, excitedly and very adamantly:

"Mama! We're going on an adventure! And you're not coming!"


Like I said, I'm not worried about her and change...