Houseguests, or Why I wish I had a macro lens.

Warning: The graphic images in this blog post may be disturbing to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.

In Homer’s Odyssey, Penélopê (Πηνελόπη) is the faithful wife of Odysseus, who keeps her suitors at bay in his long absence and so is eventually rejoined with him. Her name (which happens to be close to the Greek word for “duck”) is usually understood to combine the Greek word for “web” or “woof” (πηνη / pene), and the word for “eye” or “face” (ωψ / ōps), which is most appropriate for a weaver of cunning whose motivation is hard to decipher.^[1]

Earlier this week, I noticed we had an unwanted house guest.

wifey: Could you do something about the huge spider making its home in the kitchen window?

hubby: Okay.

It did kill a big bug yesterday. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.

I’ll relocate her.

wifey: …you wanted her to *stay* there?

Alright, so, I admit it didn’t take very long for the spider to become a pet rather than a pest. I’d mark the time right at that first “her”. I had a bit of a scare when I was looking up spiders by their markings and my google search brought up only articles on black widows, but I quickly realized her markings were not red, nor is she that big. Her fate was sealed when I read the following:

The common house spider is not aggressive. They are not known to bite people frequently, nor is their venom known to be dangerous to human beings. When removed from their webs their poor vision renders them helpless. Their only concern seems to be to find and return to their own web or build another one. They do not wander around inside houses except to find a secure place to build a web. Since these spiders are harmless and their diet consists of pests such as flies and mosquito, tolerating their presence in human homes is beneficial.

In retrospect, I see that I may have been duped. I don’t know who Ryan Fiedler is (the source for this wikipedia article), but I see now that he’s probably a spider. He and his little buddies were probably all cheering each other on as they typed this one out. No, no, no! Write helpless. That’s sure to get them tearing up! “Their only concern seems to be to find and return to their own web”? Yeah, good one! Very Oliver Twist! Oh, write “not known to bite frequently“, that way we cover our asses when we bite the crap out of them one night as they sleep. “Tolerating their presence in human homes is beneficial.” I’m sorry, did that article just tell me what to do?!

Admittedly, I am now quite fascinated by her. I check up on her every morning, making sure she has some food in her web. We had a little bit of a fight earlier this week when I cut her web down a bit and sucked up her old scraps with the vacuum. She hid for most of the day behind the blinds, but by the evening she was out in the open fixing up her web.

I’ve laid down the law, though, and said she can only stay until I see an egg sac.

Penelope’s home, in the top left corner of our kitchen window.

The good work Penelope’s been doing.

Penelope.

Penelope fixing her web after I broke part of it.

Uh, yes. I photograph my spider using a $65 piece of plastic.

Penelope and moth.

 

Tiny Pants!

The name Tiny Pants originated when my husband began to do my laundry. Now, I’m not a *tiny* person. I am diminutive in stature (5′1″), but my hips do measure almost a metre around. I’m not fat, but you don’t necessarily want to slit your wrists when you see me walking down the street in a short skirt. In fact, I don’t even wear short skirts. I don’t know what happened to my bloodline, but this Polish girl definitely got the short, stubby end of the leg gene. That said, when hubby holds up my pants after they’ve been washed and dryed, they do look, well, small.

You’re an adult only on a technicality, huh?

But now, Tiny Pants the Blog has a new mascot.

I finished my sewing class this week, and this was our last assignment. A sample-size pair of shorts! Dig that elastic waist!

Here are some more assignments:

And just because I wear skirts more than I wear pants, here’s half a skirt I had to make.

Sixteen samples in total, and I’m walking away with an A. I think that’s pretty good.

In other news (in short):

• I entered my first two races. I’ll be running the 5 Peaks 5k at Albion Hills on September 13th, and the 10 k ZooRun on October 18th. I’m pretty nervous, but I’m setting myself up for a challenge. I signed up for the 5k because it’s a trail run about the distance that I normally do. If it ends up being easy, then I have the 10k to challenge me. If it ends up being harder than I expected, I have 4 weeks to get myself into shape for the Zoo. Wish me luck!
• I finally finished Joanna’s Christmas present — a Hemlock Ring Lap Blanket. I’m very happy with the outcome. I’ll post pictures as soon as I can sneak into her apartment to snap some.
• Update on Enjoy Life Granola: Either the stuff at Noah’s Health Foods is fresher, or I found a flavour that is actually good: Cranapple Crunch.

On the needles:

Finished: a reuseable Swiffer cover from Strange Yarns.

And now, the audience participation part of the blog. (Are you still with me?)

So I’m working on the Chevron Hand Towel from Mason-Dixon Knitting. Let’s just say, this is definitely not the easiest pattern to follow. The errata on the website is still wrong, so I’ve been improvising, and now I need your help. The towel is supposed to look like this:

Fairly even stripes, with garter stitch in between. If you read the directions wrong (as I did), you may get something like this:

Alternating stripes, but no garter ridge.

This is mine:

So, I think I’m okay with the lack of the garter ridge (I’ll just add that next time I make this towel), but what do you think about the stripes? I was feeling it would be too contrasty to have the stripes of even width, so I shortened the white row, and elongated the teal. Now, should I continue in teal all the way to the end and make the towel symmetrical with a thin white stripe at the other end? Or should I do something crazy and have random white stripes of various widths along the towel? What do you think?

• Next update: Soy you wanna give up milk.

 

Oh Yoko.

The maples have just about shed all their yellow spawn, so I’m finally able to enjoy spring. Everything is still fresh and green with splashes of vibrant pinks, whites and purples. It’s the kind of weather where I long for a garden with peonies, ranunculuses, lilacs, flowering almonds, crabapples, cherries, roses, ivy, gerber daisies, and some wild looking weedy things. No room for grass, Addie, sorry. You’re going to have to learn to pee on pebbles or something. A wild garden. A secret garden.

It’s the kind of weather where you just feel like visiting all the local shops for fresh baked goods and produce. You walk more; you jog more. You feel like cleaning, consolidating, organizing. It feels like that part in the Wes Anderson film where everyone has some sort of change of heart. Oh yes, it’s that Oh Yoko time of year. Forget Sexy Back–it’s Oh Yoko blaring that gets me through the tough hills.

I have not started my burger journey yet, only because it is spring and I’m feeling like being healthy. I was quite excited today when I thought I finally ended my hunt for the perfect granola. It must be nut free. Short list, right? You’d think it wouldn’t be that hard? Guess again. I’d say about 95% of all the granolas and mueslix out there contain nuts. Almonds, hazlenuts, walnuts, peanuts—I have no idea why you non-allergic people are so obsessed with nuts. Eat a raisin once in a while! Ever heard of oatmeal? It’s crunchy! In Europe they look at you as if your head is growing out of your ass when you ask if a muesli has nuts because the nut mueslix are in the minority. At Dominion they have a berry granola that may contain traces, which, normally, I’m fine with because I’m not as careful as I should be, but I’ve actually found large chunks of almonds in one box, so now I avoid it.

Which brings me to this: Enjoy Life Granola.

Eat freely? That’s a laugh. It should be renamed Enjoy This-fruity-cardboard-we-shaped-into granola-like- pieces-18-times-the-normal-size-before-shoving-it-into-a-box-18-times-too-big-so-you- don’t-feel-like-you’re-being-ripped-off-until-you-get-home Granola.

What the hell is this? Tumour granola? How am I supposed to chew this? Very Berry Crunch, indeed.

Well, I guess I can rest easy knowing that this cereal doesn’t contain 10 of the most common allergens, such as shellfish. Thank goodness! No shrimp in this granola!

You know what, guys? You can take your crunchier taste and shove it. This is the worst food I’ve ever eaten. I have TMJ, people, I can’t chew these chunks! Maybe you should put some gluten in. That might help. Hugs and kisses, Allie.

 

It’s been a while.

A few things that have been happening around here:

Today:

The bi-law officers have started a crackdown on off-leash dogs in the on-leash area of Sherwood Park after a blind woman’s service dog got attacked. FINALLY! I’ve been going hoarse all winter and spring yelling at people and their dogs who charge Addie as she and I are walking or running past. While it’s true that I could rename this blog Pignolo*, I’m quite decent and don’t yell at any random dog that’s off leash when they should be on leash. If your dog is well behaved enough to stay away from me and my dog, I leave you alone. But when I can see before you can that your dog is stalking my dog, you say nothing, and then he charges, oh you better believe I’m saying something. It’s most often just a polite, though annoyed, “Your dog is supposed to be on leash here.” If you come back with some lame excuse like, “They’re just dogs” or “My dog’s friendly” or if you argue with me that in fact this area of the park is off-leash when you’re standing under a sign that says Please keep your dog on leash, I’ll get a bit nastier, and you might get a ” How do you know mine’s friendly**?” or “Well my dog is not okay.” If your dog has charged my dog, made her yelp with fear and your dog has tripped me and made me change my stride you will get some sort of expletive.

* A law-abiding citizen who finds virtue in their suffering and evil in the most minor transgressions of others.

** For the record, Addie is friendly, she just gets nervous when dogs (especially boys) sniff her bum while she’s clipped on leash or in her halti. If she is on her extendable leash and feels like she has some place to go, she’s fine.

Last week:

Birthday extravaganzas. Hubby and Calla share a birthday–May 1st. We had a few milestones this year–Calla turned 25 and Hubby turned the big, dreaded 30. I don’t think he went through any kind of crisis, but I did keep a steady flow of chocolate and other treats in the house to help with the transition.

We also went out for dinner.

Calla and I went out for breakfast (our favourite meal of the day). She took some amazing shots of yours truly with her amazing D3. drooool. I now get to shoot with her D200. droool.

(^ Not a D3.)

My best Scaredy Squirrel smile.

Just so you don’t think I’m completely vain, here’s a picture of hubby. Also by Ms. Evans.

We tried to be very Canadian and have gelato on a cold day. Apparently the Italians are not as much into eating ice cream on cold days as we are.

So we forced Nathan to go to Demetres. Again. Still. Whatever.

Last month:

I started an Introduction to Industrial Sewing class. I’ve never been formally trained in the things that I can do, so I’m hoping this course (and the ones I will take later) will help me be more efficient and more confident in my skills as a costume designer. It’s been going well.

What it’s like living with a coonhound:

(Calla: Your dog is a freak of nature.)

Addie plays this game with herself where she stands in the sun so the light catches her tag, which she then tries to bite and chase. She has no idea she’s the one making the mysterious “ghost” appear, but she’s damn well gonna make sure it’s having a rough time existing as long as she’s around. It’s hard to get a shot of. I really need video.

(^ I actually managed to catch the light on the couch!)

(^ Under the dog photography.)

Sometimes she does it for so long she forgets it’s dinnertime. Other times she moves on to commenting on mummy’s housekeeping skills by biting at dust in the air.

Up next:

• TinyPants takes on the challenge of finding The Perfect New York Burger in Toronto while keeping her waist size the same.

 

The 14km Walk

We didn’t plan on 4 hours of walking. It all started with Sherwood, our beloved park, being partially closed for construction. Addie just doesn’t get enough exercise there anymore, so we’ve had to start walking to Sunnybrook Park. Sunnybrook Park connects to a bunch of other parks, so I came up with the brilliant idea today to walk to The Real Canadian Superstore to purchase the supplies for the pizza I was making for dinner. Poochie would be tired, we would have food. Well.

Dear Toronto,

Great parks. Invest in maps.

Hugs and kisses,

Allie

Oh, we got to the Superstore, but apparently having a good sense of direction is actually a hindrance in Toronto parks. Picking a landmark in the distance does not help, as the trails never go in that direction, and the signs along the way are extremely misleading. Apparently, to get to Leslie and Eglinton, we actually had to follow the sign “To Davisville and TTC”. Who knew?! Luckily there was a policeman on the way who gave us some good directions so that we were actually able to complete the walk that we had planned in the first place, but by that point our silly following of the signs had added an extra 2k to the walk. The walk back was much faster, and thankfully I had the idea to snack on the apples we had bought, so bitchabetes* never set in. Sure, we were sore, tired and grumpy by the time we got home, but it was a good walk. Poochie was so tired she forgot about was unconscious for dinnertime.

Oh and I got some good pictures.

A very steep way in.

Strapping on the bear bell. (So we know where she is. Not because there are bears.)

Click on the picture to see where the hound is.

Another link.

Tired puppy. And we’re only at 2km!

Strapping her back in.

I hate this stupid thing.

Sunnybrook Stables.

There must have been some sort of Boston Terrier Society out and about. There were 10 of these little guys running around.

Rather unfortunate name for a park.

What the…?!

Very steep hill at the Science Centre.

Back in the Sunnybrook Ravine, off leash. The craziness was a bit more subdued by this point, but she still gave it a good go.

Hubby complaining about me being too slow.

(W: Will you take my picture? H: This isn’t MEXICO!) The honeymoon is OVER!

THREE! HUNDRED!! SPAARTAAAH!

Leaving Sunnybrook. Almost home.

* Bitchabetes: The bitchy mood that results from low blood sugar due to lack of food.

 

The stunning conclusion…

Success!

Say goodbye to Mr. Smelly McGreying-Bed.

Say hello to Ms. Fancy New Sleepytimes.

Look how well Ms. Sleepytimes matches the decor!

Look how comfy Poochahontas is on Ms. Sleepytimes!

Total cost: $12.87. Total time to craft: About 2 hours (if I had been doing it non-stop).

 

Rutabaga, Part Deux; Addie’s New Bed, Part the First

Rutabaga tastes like a combination of squash and sweet potato. +1 for rutabaga.

Does not fall apart in soup like squash. +5 for rutabaga.

Has a pretty yellow colour and thus makes a very Martha-esque soup palette. +7 for rutabaga.

Would taste good roasted. +10 for rutabaga.

RUTABAGA WINS!

***

So, Addie loves her bed. When we got her from the Keswick Animal Shelter we weren’t really thinking they would let us take her home right away, so we were a bit unprepared. On the way home, we stopped at Petsmart and got her all the stuff she needed–including her bed. She picked it out herself. As I was rooting deep on the shelf for a green* one, she lay down on the orangy one I put on the floor so it would be out of my way, and wouldn’t get off. It was hers. That was it.

Two years later, her bed is looking pretty ragged. She never really stretches out, so the centre where she curls up into a tiny timbit-sized ball is wearing thin, and getting pretty grey. So what did mummy do? She bought her a new bed. Fancy! At costco! Addie hated it. Was afraid of it. It now resides at my parents’ house (who do not currently have a dog). Dog beds with cedar chips in them are not for hounds. We considered having the dogs-in-law (hubby’s mom’s dogs) break it in, but decided against it.

Dog beds not at Costco are ridiculously expensive. How much?! 70 dollars?! 150 dollars?! We paid $29 for the one she has now, and it has sponge inside so it never gets misshapen or flat. Obviously, not a hubby-approved purchase.

Hubby: Her bed is fine!

Wifey: No it’s not! It’s GREY in the middle.

Hubby: …but she likes it.

So, I’ve undertaken a project to sew Addie a new cover for her bed. We’ll keep the stinky, hound approved pillow inside, but just change the outside. I bought discounted material during Fabricland’s Happy-Birthday-To-Me Sale. The top will be a antiquey brocadey thing in red, and the bottom will be a tougher, chartreuse canvas. Both 5 dollars a metre.

Hubby: What are you going to do for the zipper?

Wifey: I’m going to reuse the one from her old bed. I’m not paying for a zipper this long.

Hubby (frugally) : This is awesome. It’s like it’s the war.

Hopefully, this will work. Addie was not pleased when the work began.

(Right after this shot she made off with my chalk.)

* Chartreuse, actually. My favourite colour, and the colour of my dining room. I feel as though I’m constantly trying to match things to my dining room.

 

Rutabaga

Calla and I went on a grocery adventure today. We stopped at Timmy’s (of course). Had our usual (of course). For Calla, a large steeped tea (one milk, two sugars), and a homestyle biscuit toasted with butter and jam (on the side). For me, a coffee (double cream), and a raisin tea biscuit toasted with butter and jam (on the side). When you order this, you get 2 packets of butter, and 2 packets of jam. Well, Calla and I only use one packed of jam each. See? The picture below? An unused jam packet! Well, ladies and gentlemen, that was January 28th. This time, we were smart.

This time, we saved a whole 25 cents and ordered the on the side stuff only one time. Profit!

Calla often looks at the little old ladies at Tim’s and says to me, That’s so gonna be us in 50 years. Today, she said it as she saw three little old ladies sitting down at the table next to us.

Allie (bitterly): Who’s the third one? Your new friend? I’m not enough for you in 50 years?!

Calla: <laughter>

Allie: The one with the most bitter look on her face is me.

Calla: <the kind of laughter that makes no sound>

(One of the ladies drops the napkin holder.)

Allie: Yeah, that’s me. Throwing shit around.

***

So we finished up our biscuits and headed off to the grocery store*. I was mainly there for to shop for soup supplies, but also had to replace my coffee machine, which finally gave out today**. But by this point in the story, we’re in the grocery section.

Now, I like soup. I like vegetable soup. I make vegetable soup a lot. I make it like my mom always made it. You take chicken (and/or beef), carrots, celery root and parsnips and make a stock. Later, you cut up the vegetables, add some potatoes, and frozen corn. Lots of corn. Perhaps, if you’re feeling fancy, you add some tomato paste. I really like this soup. Just like this¹.

So…..they didn’t have parsnips. Trying to be a grown-up, I walked through the aisles searching for an alternative. I saw squashes, but those are not good for stock, only as an addition later. I saw onions, which some people put in their stock, but I’m not a fan. I saw beets. That’s just weird. Then…I saw one of these:

A rutabaga.

Which…always just remind me of a polish storybook I had as a kid. Cianut, Cianut i wycianut nie mogut.***

But, a rutabaga. I mean, they’re so weird. Why are they covered in wax? A rutabaga. Where does that name come from? RUTabaga. ROOTabaga. Roooot-aaaaa-baaaaYgaaaaa.

Allie: What’s a rutabaga?

Calla (tentatively): They’re sort of like a … PAR-snip…but…sweeter.

Allie: Is it like a turnip?

Calla (still tentatively): Sort of…but … turnips are…sweeeet-er.

Allie: (pause) You’re making this up.

Calla: My gramma uses them in soup!

Allie (starting to believe): Are they good?

Calla (tentatively): I’ve never actually … had … one.

Allie: !

Calla: I saw it on Alton Brown! Root vegetables!

Okay, so I figured I’d give it a try. How bad can it be?

Rutabaga, we’re counting on YOU.

Easier to peel than a squash. +1 for rutabaga!

Smells like celery root****. -1 for rutabaga.

Wikipedia actually says a Rutabaga is a turnip. +1 for rutabaga!

And that the name comes from Swedish dialect for root ram. Root ram?! What’s a root ram?! -1 for rutabaga!

The soup’s just cooking now, so I’ll let you know. Stay tuned for further developments and scoring.

***

*The evil empire, Walmart Superstore. Sometimes a girl just needs to do some one-stop-shopping.

**Tip: If your mom tells you not to clean your coffee machine with vinegar because hers always stop working after she does that, listen to her.

¹ Okay, if my matka is reading this, she’s going to be all, but you and your dad never let me do fancy things! Never tomato paste, never cut up veggies from the soup. I know, I know, mom. I’m trying to widen my palette, whilst giving a sense of history and meaning to this rutabaga story.

***Not actually Polish. If you were Polish, you’d be laughing.

****I know, But you said your mom puts in celery root and you like it just like that! Yes. I said that. But I don’t like it later. My mom used to cut it up and I didn’t like it. So she stopped. So now we throw it out after the stock is made. And actually this time I was going to spice things up and not include it. I’m trying to grow here.

 

Coincidence?

It’s been about a year since I wrote the post below, and I once again find myself locked in a tiny room running things for a play that is in a language I do not understand. While I don’t think I’ll get as much reading done as last year, I am about 100 pages away from finishing Marie Antoinette, so I think it only fitting to move on to No Country for Old Men next, especially since we have recently discovered (decided?) that it’s not entirely impossible that our Addie once belonged to Cormac McCarthy.

EDIT: I sat next to a man on the subway yesterday reading All the Pretty Horses. I wanted to high five him, and make him my buddy. [o/\o] But I didn’t.

(Addie’s a leaner. She thinks it’s as good as lying down.)

————————————————————————————————————–

April 17, 2007.

Read:

• Lolita. One day I will re-read it and fully grasp just how genius Nabokov really is. This time around I was a little too worried about missing major plot elements.
• On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan. A quick, beautiful, wrenching read.
• Also the new Scaredy Squirrel, quickly, in the store. It’s amazing.

Reading: The Road. I think. I have to get over the fact that I will feel slightly stupid on the subway if everyone is reading it at the same time. My other option is Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser.