TinyPants

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.

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 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.

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.

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.