Happy Ho Ho

We're off to see the Parrsboro parental units tomorrow. It was meant to be today but the weather threw a spanner into that plan.
Here's a pic of us torturing the cat in front of the fire. (Well at least he's not wearing a silly hat)

Hello, my name is...

Meet New Cat.
New Cat was spotted in a shelter a couple months ago and deemed to be the right animal for our house, so he was adopted by his foster mom in anticipation of our return to NS. When he went to live with his foster mom and family, we tried to name him, but couldn't really decide on anything that stuck or fit.
Thus far, he has tried on Bear, and Boris.
His shelter name was Pharaoh, so we tried some Egyptian monikers for a while, which included Siris (for Osiris) but I felt that was too close to Sirius, which is the dog star and completely inappropriate.
He was found in a kennel full of dogs, so as a nod to his penchant for 'keeping bad company' I wanted to call him Mr. Wickham. Peter felt we would shorten it to Wiki, and then everyone would ask why we named our cat after an internet encyclopedia.
It also led to his foster neighbours to call him Mr Rogers. Apparently they aren't Jane Austen fans.
Wickham's first name is George, so we tried that, but Peter worried that our friend George would wonder why we named the cat after him.
His foster mom thought Hector was good, but Peter had an uncle Hector, so he vetoed that.
We left it for a while and his foster mom just continued to call him New Cat. We started calling him New Cat too, and wondered if we should just call him Newkie, and say it is short for Newcastle Brown Ale. But once we met him, we realised he needed a better name.
I also realised he didn't look like a Wickham so I gave that up. In fact he didn't look English at all, but American. So we started trying to think of American literary characters, and realised that we must only read Brit Lit because the only American characters that came to mind were Huckleberry and Hawkeye. Neither seemed appropriate.
Then, being a true Canadian I decided it should be a Canadian character, but could only think of Gilbert from Anne of Green Gables. So I call him Gilbert all day Wednesday, but Peter didn't seem keen.
How do people ever manage to name their children I wonder?
We went back to the idea of mythology, and as New Cat's favourite position seems to be in front of the fire, we thought perhaps Prometheus, or Phaeton, but I didn't really like either of those. Apollo was too Battlestar Galactica.
Eventually we googled 'cat names' and found the website 2000 Cat Names. The world is a sick sad place. Peter thought we should try something botanical as a nod to my profession, so we tried Nepeta (for catnip) and Felino (which is Latin for cat.) Then we googled 'Latin Cat Names" and found a website that lists cat names by language. The world is truly a sick sad place.
We went back to literary characters by googling "American Literary Characters" and found Atticus, for Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird. It has the advantage of sounding Latin, and therefore classical, plus I've always thought Gregory Peck was rather dishy so I think we've settled on Atticus the Catticus. Peter has already started to make up rhymes about him.

The Grande Finale

We started packing in earnest on Tuesday afternoon. Pack pack pack pack pack. You get the picture.We were mostly packed by Thursday evening. Except the things we were still using. We unpacked the household furnishings that came with the place on Thursday so we could use those and pack our own.
Filled up with gas and windshield juice and checked all fluids on Thursday night.
Friday morning Peter (no longer Studyboy) started putting things in the truck, while I did last minute errands like buying road food and returning the cable modem. We decided to buy walkie talkies for the road trip so we would know when and where to stop. Very useful (and fun.) Friday afternoon Peter packed the car and I cleaned the house until about 9pm.
Neither of us slept well Friday night. The bed was picked up Friday afternoon by the moving company so we were on the blow-up camping mattress, on the floor. Plus we were concerned that someone would break into the vehicles to steal our stuff. At this point I think Peter wouldn't have minded losing anything, as there were still last minute items to go in and no room to put them. (Also, too excited/freaked out to sleep)
Saturday morning up at 6am to leave at 7am. Our plan was to hit a Tim's at Churchill Square for coffee (coffee maker packed) and a breakfast thing, then go straight up Alandale Road to the TCH. Tim's at Churchill Square is not open at 6:45am. Used the walkie talkies to make new plan, BONUS! Alternate plan: there is a Tim's on Portugal Cove Road just beside the TCH.
One the TCH heading east by 7:10. Windy, wet, dark and 16 degrees. The first 90 minutes we are both a little freaked out, because we realize that neither of us has driven on a highway for 17 months. The road is up and down and up and down ( I mean really steep) and curvy and the wind keeps trying to blow us sideways.
We hit Clarenville about 9am. Both of us are calmer now. First pit stop for a pee and a tea. Grey skies but less wind.
Next stop Gander. More pee, more tea.
Got lost in Grand Fall Windsor looking for a rest stop, so just kept on to Badger for a fill up. It was after noon but decided not to eat, just kept going and eating road food. Temperature dropped to zero degrees and we got some snow flurries.
Thought we'd stop in Corner Brook next, but the sign said 4 exits and I only counted 3 and then Corner Brook was gone, so we thought maybe Stephenville. But Stephenville is miles from the highway so we kept on to Stephenville Crossing. Which is also miles from the highway. It was about 4:30 and getting dark, so we stopped for dinner at a little gas station diner.
Back on the road for the last leg in the dark. There was very little traffic and it felt like you were driving to the end of the earth. No Wreckhouse winds to fear and we arrived in Port Aux Basques about 7pm.
Was the drive pretty? If by pretty you mean in a barren, rocky unforgiving godforsaken kind of way... I'm not sure, it was foggy.
The ferries had been backed up all week due to wind and a broken ramp, and we were plenty early for our scheduled sailing time of 11:30pm. There was a restricted sailing due to leave at 9:30 which we thought we might get on, but no joy. The 11:30 ferry was delayed departing until 3am. The wait was long and uncomfortable. We stayed in the terminal until about 12:30, but then hoping the boat would depart early (ha) we went to the vehicles. The wait was worse because we couldn't wait together. No room in either vehicle for more than the driver.
Peter in the truck. Me in the car. Good thing we bought those walkie talkies!
Finally we boarded, and found our cabin. Proper sleep at last!
The ferry docked in North Sydney at 11am, and we stopped for our third tank of gas just off the boat. Gas is 10 cents a litre cheaper on this side of the gulf. Yay!
This side, Peter was lead dog. There was this strange ball of fire in the sky all the way home that we hadn't seen for weeks. Clear road and -3 all they way. Travelling behind the truck means I could see just how splayed out the back wheels were from the weight. Somewhere in Cape Breton.

A mere five and a half hours later and we were home.

The alternative title to this post could be Ka-Ching!
How expensive it is to move you ask? Here are some numbers.
Drive 2 vehicles 1400 kms in 2 days. Equals 4.5 fillups. $250
2 Ferry passes and 1 cabin with 4 berths. $400
1 bed shipped. $200
1 new water tank. $1500. (but it is a really nice one)
1 empty oil tank $350
1 new septic pump (maybe) $?
1 Cable Modem hookup and cable reconnection fee $100
1 power reconnection fee $22
Replacing the food tossed out or given away $200
Finally being home - Priceless.

10 Things We'll Miss About St. John's

As one person put it, the Roadshow is now inaccurately named, and it is only going to get more so in the next few weeks. In fact the Roadshow is coming to an end very soon. We leave the island on Saturday. Don't miss the Grande Finale culminating in packing the vehicles once more and making a 12+ hour drive across the province to Port Aux Basques to catch an overnight ferry to Cape Breton, where we will drive a further 6+ hours to a house in the Annapolis Valley that still needs some major renovations.
So many items have been checked off the TODO list. Studyboy passed his last exam in yesterday. I read it over and despite his sleep deprived and stress induced negativity, it was at least lucid and grammatically well structured, although I cannot vouch for the argument as I am not an expert in the field. Goodbye lunches and Christmas parties have been attended, utilities have been cancelled and ordered, and many large items have been given away or otherwise disposed.
Internet is disconnected on Thursday and so the Grande Finale will be posted from another province (even more inaccurately named..)
All that is left is to list the Top 10 things we will miss about St. John's.
(in no particular order)

Fresh Air - with no heavy industry or agriculture to speak of, the air is always clear.

The Grand Concourse - despite having the most overweight population of any capital city, these walking trails are amazing.

The Rooms - made my last visit on Saturday, always something new to see.

The Georgetown Bakery - best bagels east of Montreal, and could give easily rival Solly's in Vancouver

The Manna Bakery - we are breadafiles, and their multigrain is a daily treat

Auntie Crae's - for those hard to find culinary items and the atmosphere

Posie Row - because who can't spend hours trying on great hats?

Coffee Matters - for their great Astec Hot Chocolate

Bitters - this is the grad pub at the University, need I say more?

The NL Craft Council Clay Studio - and all the people who hang out there

All the Friends we made.

I went to a luthier lecture last week. (Say that 5 times fast)
It was presented as part of the Canadian Folk Music Awards held here in St John's, and the presentation was co sponsored by the NL Craft Council, who allow me to potter in their basement. The luthier giving the lecture was Grit Laskin, who I had never heard of but I went because a potter friend ( and folk musician) was going and it got me out of the house.
Boy this guy was amazing. I am not a guitar fan. Mostly because they are ubiquitous and that means that everyone thinks they are a guitar player. (Note: Just because you have a guitar doesn't mean you should take it to a party.)
Grit Laskin is not simply a guitar maker, he is an artist, and to prove it he was awarded the Saidye Bronfman Award for excellence in fine craft in 1997. That's a GG, and he's the only luthier on the list. What put him there is his amazing inlay work on all his custom guitars. After consulting with a client to find out a little about them and what their favourite art style is, he designs unique inlay for the head and neck of each guitar which represents them. I cannot say enough about how astounding his work is. Check out the gallery on his website. Here's an example of his "Blue Woman" in Art Deco.
While we were watching the slide show as he explained the genesis of each design, both my friend and I admitted we were trying to decide what art style and what images would best represent us. Now if we only had the $$$$.

Self Portrait

Just because I felt like it.

New Link

Sometimes you just gotta share.
A friend put me onto exboyfriendjewelry.com where you can get rid of the jewelry that you can't wear anymore because it's too painful or whatever. And the stories associated with each listing can be pretty good, in a horrific schadenfreude kinda way.
But that site has a new sister site called stuffthatsleftbehind.com and it is simply a website where people can post the stories of things they still have from relationships past and present. My favourite post is about Zoe the cat under the heading "Stuff you got together".
Check it out.

Transcanada - The Mini Adventure

Yesterday I found myself doing some errands in the box store business park out beyond the overpass. Out beyond the overpass is a local way of saying 'in the boonies', but as the city grows, more and more of the new suburbs are beyond the overpass. The overpass is the Trans Canada Highway which was extended only a few years ago to circle around the city, with exits for all the major arterials that lead to downtown so that the map looks like a bicycle wheel with spokes leading to the centre. Prior to that I think it just went to Kenmount Road and then used that road to get to the city proper.
It's an idea, founded in Canadian Geography, that the TCH stretches across the continent from St. John's, capital of the eastern most province, to Victoria, capital of the western most province. And yesterday, as I was just right there in the business park, so close to the actual easterly end of the TCH I thought to myself "Wouldn't it be fun to drive to Mile One?" So I got on the TCH heading east.
Mile One is the beginning of the TCH. Mile One is also the name of the Stadium downtown right next to City Hall, and I can be forgiven in thinking that Mile One of the TCH went to Mile One Centre on New Gower St.
After all, there are other cities which have important roads that lead to the centre of town. And I was expecting that somehow, I would get from the ring road to downtown St John's simply by following a route laid out in familiar white on green lettering. In Victoria there is a Mile Zero Monument at the end of Douglas Street and a Mile Zero Convention Centre and that is what I was expecting here too. (Yes, it is peculiar that Mile Zero and Mile One are 7800 miles apart.)
It started out fine. I entered a divided TCH from Aberdeen St. I passes the exit sign for Paradise. The TCH was no longer divided. I passed the exit sign for Logy Bay. Now I was down to just two lanes. I passed the somewhat smaller sign for Robinhood Bay Municipal Waste Site. And then that was it. No more TCH signs. The next sign was a 50 Maxium , and then I was on a street in Quidi Vidi with 60's era houses and neat front lawns. I came to a STOP sign at the Boulevard. I was thinking to myself, "If I were a tourist that had just driven from Victoria non-stop on the same road, I would be mighty confused."
And then I thought, "The TCH does not stretch from capital to capital. The TCH goes to a dump."
And then I thought, "If I lived on East White Hills Road, I could tell people coming for a visit to just get on the TCH going east and drive until you can't drive anymore."
It was a bit of a let down.

Remembrance Day Rant

Before I toddle off to a ceremony downtown at the cenotaph this morning, I would like to confess that I didn't get a poppy this year. Usually, I get two or three because you lose them right. And then I hit on the practise of using a small pin with a back to keep them on and that works very well. But this year I couldn't even find a poppy tray to get a poppy. I started looking on Nov 2 when the TV newscasters started sporting theirs on the CBC evening news. (This, in my opinion, is about the only useful thing the local evening news in St John's is good for because that program is usually an embarrassing hour of amateur night and technical screw ups, but that is another rant.) Usually poppies are everywhere, and it is easy to find them, but either I'm not going to the right places or there is a distinct lack of poppy trays out there this year.
Now the first option could be the case. In the last two weeks, I have been to the studio, three grocery stores and a drug store postal outlet so it is entirely possible that my lack of consumerism is to blame for my poppylessness. What can I say? I haven't trolled the mall since 1991, and usually it is Study boy that goes to the convenience store on the corner. But until this year I haven't found that to be a problem in my annual November poppy quest.
My question is this: Has anyone else noticed a lack of poppiness in the world this year? I remember that a few years ago there was a great outrage because veterans were being asked not to sell poppies in certain places. Is this a fall out from that policy?
As a result, off I go to the ceremony, feeling naked.

Back to the Studio

There comes a time every fall when gardeners just want to say "Enough already!" and stop the tedious chores associated with putting the nursery to bed for winter.
That time came about a month ago for me, when work consisted weeding, counting, grading and moving 100's of plants into cold frames. Last week it was down to washing pots, so there were no regrets when I got my lay off notice.
And for my efforts mother nature decided a reprieve from cold weather was in order and this week it is back to September like temperatures (for now). We still have pansies, snaps and a rose blooming in the garden. This bird was the only one the dog didn't try to eat.
I'm using the warm weather as an opportunity to walk to the studio for exercise so I can continue to wear my skinny jeans. It's not just a life of leisure for me yet though, the Newfoundland and Labrador Craft Council has a Christmas Craft Fair each November and so my studio treks have as much to do with volunteering for that event as it does about getting muddy. If you are in NL check out the Fair webpage to see what it is all about.
The benefit of the craft fair in November to all of us non-producing amateur potters is that the kilns are running back to back everyday for all the exhibitors to get their wares ready for the fair. This means our stuff is pushed through faster than usual and the long wait to see the final result is much shorter. Instant gratification pottery.
The Studyboy is still slogging away at the exams. He begins writing the second one on Monday. There are now permanent bags under his eyes, so much so that I'm considering changing his name to Bagboy. If the last exam was anything to go by, he will be completely wiped out by the following week. I'm doing my best to keep the fridge full of food and the tea hot.

On Your Mark, Get Set, Write

This is a marathon week for the Studyboy. He is writing the first of his 3 comprehensive exams this week. He started Monday morning and has a week to write a 40 page open book paper explaining everything he knows about methods of research and explain how to apply them to his area of study. He's been in training for this marathon for about six months. He started with daily doses of heavy reading and progressed into short writing spurts to build both stamina and speed.
So far he is weathering the stress well. He just keeps thinking of it in terms of a theatre production week; the bit just before opening night when you exist on coffee, beer and smokes. (Except it's more like chamomile tea, rye whiskey and smokes. Oh how we age...)
I was in training too. As the wifely equivalent of those people that shove cups of water at the runners from the sidelines, my job was to organise fast and easy food service so he can just keep pounding the keyboard 11 hours a day. For three weeks I've been venturing into the frozen food section of the grocery store and stocking up on microwavable lunches. This was an education in itself. I finally got to see what all those TV ads were about. Wow, who knew food-like items came in a box?
As for suppertime: If you can make it in the slow cooker before you go to work I've eaten it recently. Partly because the oven is on the blink and neither of us have time to call the landlord. Is this what it is like to have children?
On Monday he passes in the first paper and has 2 weeks to recover before starting the second marathon paper. By then my job at the nursery will be finished (it snowed again today) and I will be able to cook meals that have a longer prep time than 20 minutes. It's a good thing too because I'm running out of ideas. Tonight I'm making fish cakes for tomorrow.
For Christmas, I want a framed piece of paper that says MRS.Ph.D.A.B.D. In Latin.

On the One Hand....

Sometimes you just can't win. Take today for example. Last week I toasted my left wrist pulling weeds. That happens sometimes. I get an RSI whenever I pinch and twist or gripe a handle too tightly. It's an old sports injury. So today I was giving it a rest by pulling weeds with my right hand. That's when I grabbed a stinging nettle that managed to find the gap between my gloves and my sleeve.
Left wrist is throbbing. Right wrist is stinging.
It's like the 3 laws of thermodynamics:
Can't win, can break even, can't get out of the game.

Weather Bingo

Today the weather was lovely, except the frost on the car this morning. Yesterday however, we played Weather Bingo at work. During the day we saw:
rain,
rain and hail together,
rain and hail and sun together,
sun,
hail alone
and snow.
Real snow. Not flurries but ten minutes of big fluffy flakes that blotted out visibility 200 feet away.

I was 'set' three ways. I needed a plague of locusts for the horizontal line, a tornado for the vertical line or a flash flood for the four corners. Alas, 5 o'clock came before any of those events occurred.

Heard on the Street

The weather continues fine here. Dry at least and above zero so that's the NL definition of fine. It means that the windows are still open and thus, this gem was overheard on the street outside the Study Lair today:

"Where ya to?"
"We're off to buy beer, because a house without beer is like a bar without beer."

Sure. I guess. If your house is like a bar. Er....

A Swedish Kitchen Party

Everybody knows that here in the East we like our Kitchen Parties. Face it. Traditionally the largest, warmest, most comfortable room in the house is the perfect location for a party. Plus, that's where the beer is, and by the time you walk back to the living room you need another beer so this is why the party always migrates even if it doesn't start out there.
On Friday, Studyboy emerged from the lair bleary-eyed from too much reading and we set out for a Swedish Kitchen party at our friends, Malin and Pablo's house. What made this different from the average kitchen party first became clear when Studyboy morphed into Carpenter Man and instead of taking a case of beer and a guitar, he grabbed the screw gun and a set of hex keys.
Malin, being Swedish ordered her new kitchen from IKEA, and on Friday night, several people were invited to assemble all the bits in all the boxes. In fact there were four couples. And here is what I learned from that experience:
Somehow, I initially ended up in the wrong room, and found myself in a speed competition with two men I had only just met. Just for the record, it only took me 2 minutes longer to assemble my cabinet alone than it took two of them, together. (with much discussion)
Next, I realised that Carpenter Man and I were the only couple to attempt an assembly together. Ever. All night. All other teams were strictly gender based. And segregated into separate rooms. I think this says something significant about Men, Women, and Couples. Don't you?
Also, while the men were racing each other, and trying hard not to follow the directions, or use all the bits, the women worked as teams and gave helpful solutions to each other. In fact, after a couple cabinets we broke tasks down into our strengths so we were much more efficient and finished sooner. Then we retired to the living room to drink while the men were still working.
Finally, I learned that if you don't live with a carpenter, IKEA is an excellent way to get a new kitchen. Even with the men 'helping' we got all the cabinets assembled and hung in three hours. But if you do live with a carpenter, then just buy the melamine and DIY, because hex keys are not fun.
I think next weekend is the doors and drawers party.

Big Grey Clouds-Not all weather related

Welcome to fall. I know that the season doesn't officially start until Sept 21, but the weather and many events have ganged up on me this year and I feel like it is here already.
Studyboy isn't exactly in classes again, his classwork is complete and his next hurtle is writing his comprehensive exams beginning in November, but he did make an appearance at grad orientation on campus last week to welcome the newbies. (Translation: He went to the pub)
I made a last ditch attempt to see all the summer theatre in the city over the last three weeks. Summer festivals and events, and pretty much all the tourist attractions pretty shut down here August 31st. I saw 4 plays in three weeks, but missed two others that I wanted to see.
The nursery is slowing down, and we are doing all those fall chores to winterize the plant stock and the facilities. Plus most of the production crew has been laid off, so the farm seems awfully big and quiet now. Surely this means I'll get my notice next, and then off to the job bank I go again. EEK.
It got dark. When did that happen? Last week I woke up in the dark to go to work and a few nights it was dark before Jake and I got home from our evening walk. And sometimes I needed to wear a jacket.
I made soup last weekend, and again this weekend. A stockpot full of soup is a sure sign of fall.
I went blueberry picking with the dog on Signal Hill last weekend. I'm not sure what the etiquette about picking berries on a National Historic Site is, so I was pretending to walk the dog if anyone happened by. The blueberries are wild, so it took about three hours of clandestine picking to get enough for blueberry buckle.
Turns out that was the last really good day we had together. Jake stopped eating about three weeks ago, and after tests and trying various things, the vet was still uncertain as the acute cause, although since being diagnosed with cancer last fall we have been expecting a decline to start. After three very bad days, we had the vet put him down Sunday afternoon. When we got home the skies opened up and it poured rain just like in a Gothic novel.
For once, our mood seemed to be affecting the weather instead of the other way around.
Hurricane season is here but the grey skies aren't all weather related.

A Day at the Beach

August has sped by and I cannot believe that it is Labour Day weekend already. I have been a little busy, so forgive the lack of posting please. The upside is that I have lots to write about.
Two weekends ago (Already!) I dragged the studyboy to Middle Cove Beach Provincial Park for the 7th Annual Clay Studio Beach Firing and Pottery Sale. This has been months in the planning, and we were incredibly lucky to schedule it on the only day that happened to be sunny and warm in a three week period. That Saturday was a glorious day, and the troops assembled early at the studio to load boxes of bisque fired pots, wood chips, firewood, food and tools into lots of trucks to make the trek out to the beach for the day.








The beach fire is a fund raiser for the studio, where we build a large wood bonfire over a pit full of pottery and fire pots in a very primitive way; then the resulting pots are sold to people as they are unloaded from the fire.
This was a sort of anniversary for studyboy and I as we went to the beach fire as onlookers last year on our first weekend in NL. This time we weren't onlooking though we were working. Digging, carrying, and wrapping up pots in seaweed and newsprint to create nifty effects on the pots. Once the fire was lit though, we had hours to sit and chat, eat and wade in the surf until the pots were cool enough to handle and polish for selling. The day was so nice that many families were there and they were very happy to buy our wares. The pottery was all donated by studio members, who also volunteered their time to be there that day.

Tea in the Crypt

Monday afternoon, after lunch, we again braved the fog and drizzle to explore the Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. That's right, both the Anglican and Catholic Cathedrals are named for St. John. Hardly surprising considering the city was named for him.
The Anglican Cathedral is a Gothic Revival building, and this is the second attempt at a stone church on this site; all but the walls and one window of the original burned in the 1898 fire. We spent some time going through with a tour guide and getting the details of the windows and architecture and history of the parish. It was more interesting than your average church tour because Don and Betty know a lot about the Church of England, and so those details were all the more appreciated. Our tour guide was most impressed.
Personally, I've always liked the Gothic style more than any other, so I was happily snapping photos of the amazing carvings and windows all the while. This is the carved Reredos behind the altar, it is St George standing on his dragon and St Andrew on the right.
More information and pictures of this Cathedral can be seen on their website here.
















You can also have Tea in the Crypt at the Anglican Cathedral. Served by the volunteer ladies of the parish. It was yummy. No dead bishops here.

At the Basilica - You can see a pin drop.

This morning we toured the Basilica of St. John the Baptist. It looks large from the outside (the only view I've ever bothered to get in the last 12 months) but it is positively huge on the inside. It just keeps going and going. It holds 600 people, has 2 organs with a total of over 4000 pipes, 8 double confessionals and a separate smaller chapel named the Marion chapel. We had a very good tour guide who even took us into the crypt under the alter to see the dead bishops.
The Basilica has 65 stained glass windows like this one. Made in France, England and Ireland. This one is from England.





















and a beautifully plastered and painted ceiling. The round bit projects down into the room and is called a Pin Drop. For more pictures and information about the basilica, you can see their virtual tour here.

Our guide also suggested we visit the Sisters of the Presentation convent next door to see this marble bust of the Veiled Virgin by Italian master Giovanni Strazza.This is believe it or not, is all carved in marble, although while standing only a few inches from the protective case it looked just like someone had draped a cloth veil over the bust.

Walk the Waterfront

The weather has not been co-operating with our holiday this week. On Thursday we attempted to visit Signal Hill, but it was rainy and foggy and the view was non-existent.
On Saturday we visited Lester's Farm Market and then continued on driving to Bay Bulls and Witless Bay for the scenery. But the day was a little drizzly. We had lunch at the Irish Loop cafe in Witless bay and came back to town.
Today though we did manage to get a break in the drizzle long enough to walk the waterfront and Water St. We also attempted to tour the Anglican Cathedral, but I guess Anglicans don't work on Sunday because it was closed.
Betty, Peter and Don, not looking at Signal Hill.

Regatta Day -Finally

The sun finally peaked through enough for the regatta to go ahead on Friday. Our visitors were suffering a little from jet lag and we managed to make it out of the house bright and early at noon. St. John's metrobus runs special shuttles to Quidi Vidi all day, so we parked at Memorial and caught a ride. The regatta takes a three hour lunch break, so we wandered around the concession stands eating all the wrong things until the races resumed at 3pm.
This is the one race we watched before catching the shuttle back again. Don't ask me which race or who won, as far as I'm concerned, the Regatta is about watching throngs of people and eating fattening food.

Regatta Day - Sort Of

The first Wednesday of August is the Annual Royal St. John's Regatta Day. Last year, it was our first full day here, because that Wednesday was the 1 st of August. The Regatta is a holiday in the St. John's area, everything is closed, including the nursery I work at in Portugal Cove. It is another pretend holiday where no-one goes to work but there isn't any holiday pay.
The regatta is a rowing regatta held at Quidi Vidi Lake (usually pronounced Kitty Viddie, but some posh people say Kwai-da Vy-da) Because the boats they use are tippy, the regatta is postponed if the weather is too windy 'on the pond' or if it is too cold and wet for the food vendors to make any money. The morning of the regatta, the PTB meet at the rowing club to determine if the races will go ahead or not, and then release their decision to the media. The whole city listens to the morning radio programmes to find out if they can sleep in or have to go to work as usual. Today the race was postponed (as it was last year) officially due to wind but really because it is cold, wet and rainy. In fact today was day 10 of RDF (rain drizzle fog).
This year is the 190th year for the Regatta, and about the 30th time it has been postponed in that history. There is some concern that it will be postponed again tomorrow morning because of weather and actually won't go ahead until Friday. The radio announcer this morning asked if it had ever run on a Friday, the Chair of the Organising committe didn't think so, but callers later remembered in 1969 and once in the 50's that it had run on a Friday. They remember being given dispensation from the priest to be able to go.
I was off today anyway, on my first day of holiday. Studyboy's parental units arrive late tonight for a visit, and I was glad of the non-holiday to be able to run errands and buy groceries before their arrival. Also, now we will be able to show them a true St John's tradition, "the oldest sporting event in North America."

I'm in Love with Dr Horrible

So, if you haven't yet heard. Joss Whedon has another series. Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog. Only on the internet, and it's a musical. Originally it was released in July as a free promo and then you had to buy it on Itunes. It is a product of the writers strike last fall. Just Joss's way of saying 'up your's' to the big studios. 3 episodes totalling 45 ish minutes in total, and now it is available to stream for free on Hulu.
Go to http://doctorhorrible.net/ and enjoy. Be quick, who knows how long it will last.
And remember "Today is a good day to be homeless."

More Colloquialisms

It is getting harder for me to notice strange language now because I'm getting used to hearing it. But here are a few more colloquialisms I've picked up.

At/to - used as a form of the verb 'to be' and stuck on the end of a phrase that doesn't need it as in "Where's daddy to?" A friend originally from Ontario had her 4 year old ask this the other day. She said she didn't know whether to laugh, cry or correct him.

After - I struggle with this one. It is used as a helper with action verbs approximately the same way that I would use 'wants' with an infinitive verb such as "wants to go, or wants to be" but I don't really understand the rules of when to use it and when not to. It is sometimes just unnecessary, as in "She's after eating her lunch." simply meaning 'she's eating her lunch.' But it can also be used for the near future tense as in "you're after eating your lunch" meaning 'you are about to start eating lunch now' or 'you want to eat your lunch soon.' Often used with 'going' as in "He's after going to town for supplies." meaning currently or in the near future he is going to town for supplies.

What 'er you at? - General greeting meaning "what are you up to?", but really means "Hi, how are you?" Used the same way that the English use 'Alright?'

Best Kind - This approximately means 'great' or 'fine' and is an adjective describing something or someone. Almost always comes at the end of a sentence or phrase. Not used in the middle as in "What's the best kind of fish to buy" but as in "My son had a nightmare last night, usually he's best kind." It can also be a response to What 'er you at?

Between the jigs and the reels - means 'what with on thing and another' It is used to shorten a long story. I'm not sure if it is referring to the dances or the fishing tackle.

Biverin' - shivering cold

Crooked - grumpy or angry, often used with 'some' as in "She was some crooked today." I've also heard the expression "Crookeder than a redhead" In fact it was said about me when I lost my glasses. I can only assume it is the past tense of "Fartin' and Spittin' (see a previous post)

Give 'em a root - What you do to your husband when he snores in bed. Essentially it is a poke, but can also mean a shove or a forceful nudge. I asked if it should be 'route' as in 'routed around in a box' but everyone agreed it was 'root'

He'd eat shit, if it didn't have a hair in it - describing a person who is really not fussy about anything

Pipped - as in 'pipped with the cold' What I was all spring.

Rotten - very dirty or filthy and wet or mucky. Heard often this spring. Can describe a person's appearance or a thing or the weather. "It's rotten out." "I'm rotten." "My gloves are rotten."

They'd eat the eyes and come back for the lashes - describing a truly despicable person who would steal anything. It may be an Irish origin as I heard it from and Irish girl who is here on exchange, but it was echoed by and older local woman as if it was commonly used in an earlier day. They were talking about people who would steal the flower arrangements off grave sites after the Cemetery services.

Ticket - often used as 'a bit of a ticket' or a 'hard ticket' to describe someone who is violent and/or unlawful. Not someone you would want to meet in a dark alley.

Wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it - describing an overly polite person, usually a woman.

Whales, Trees, Snails and Playgrounds

Last weekend was St. John's Day. Actually I think it was Monday, and it is a pretend holiday here. It's not a paid holiday, but many people take it off anyway. I'm not really sure what it is about, something to do with John Cabot making the first European discovery of the area on the Feast Day of St John. Hence that is how St. John's got its name, and it has its very own holiday. Good enough for me.
There were lots of activities in the city on the weekend. The pottery studio held an open house where people could come in and make something. In honour of St. John's, we set up a clay model of the hills around the harbour and invited people to make the city in clay. We expected lots of row houses and churches and landmarks of the city. We got a few houses from the adults that came through, but our clientele were overwhelmingly children, and when we suggested they make something in the city, we got some unexpected results.
It started well enough, one little girl made a playground complete with slide and monkey bars.
Another girl made an amazing model of the Basilica.
Someone made the Cabot Tower on Signal Hill.
Someone made a couple dozen cannons to guard Signal Hill even though there are no cannons on Signal Hill.
Someone made a whale for the harbour.
Several others made whales for the harbour.
A fisherman came through and made a boat for the harbour.
Several others made boats for the harbour.
One girl made lots of trees and planted them in Quidi Vidi Gut until we pointed out it was the ocean and perhaps she could transplant them to a hill instead.
Someone made an iceberg for the harbour. (At least that's what I think it was)
Someone made a swimming pool.
One very little girl made all the stop and yield signs for the streets (although we had no streets.)
Someone made a very large snail, about 10 times the size of the Cabot Tower and set it free in Quidi Vidi Lake. (I will admit this city has a lot of snails, and now apparently we also have our own version of the Loch Ness Monster too.)
A boy thought that was so much fun that he spent an hour making small slugs and throwing them all over the model. It looked like a mouse had come and crapped all over the city.
Another Basilica.
Another Cabot Tower.
More whales, trees, snails and playgrounds.
At the end of two days, we came to the conclusion that the next time this city is razed by fire, this is the children's vision of what should come next. No schools, no government buildings, no monuments, theatres, bars or shops.
Just whales, trees, snails and playgrounds. And lots of mouse crap.

Everything is Relative

It was like someone turned on a switch on the 21st of June and TADA we got summer. The last four days have been warm and sunny and I am WEARING A TANK TOP!!!!!
Of course, every silver lining has a cloud and Monday, on the hottest day I have yet to experience in NL, I was sent with crew of 2 young and tender lads to weed a 2 acre field of trees not yet big enough to give shade. Some of the weeds were bigger than the trees. This is not a complaint, I'm just setting up a story.
Normally, at the nursery, the most dreaded chore is bagging up a soil mix for sale in the retail garden centre. We sell a lot of the house brand soil mix, because good soil is scarce here, and I have learned from experience that when you buy a bag of 'soil' here that is usually what you get. A bag of mineral soil, with precious little organic matter and no nutrients whatsoever. While our soil is not good composty stuff, it is better than most. But bagging it for sale is a monotonous chore at best, and there are some who theorize that it is actually a punishment when the boss is a little grumpy. Something akin to a cat-o-nine-tails on a 19th Century warship.
After 7 hours of weeding on Monday however, I announced (with a little trepidation, in case it lead to an all out mutiny) that we would be bagging soil for the rest of the day. I guess everything really is relative because their eyes lit up and they actually cheered.

One Reader Writes....

A friend sent me this. The original said "Vancouver" which is just as funny, but I doctored it to this version it to be able to post it at work.

Poor Erica

Last Monday night after the Redwings lost the hockey game in triple overtime, some disgruntled fans decided to take out their frustrations on poor Erica.
Curling Fans would never do this.

Terms of Endearment

and other colloquialisms...

The following are gleaned from lunch room chatter. The translations are mine, from the context they were taken.

Booze Bag - an alcoholic

Fartin' an Spittin' - describing someone who is impatient or angry as in "He was out in the car fartin' an spittin' while I was still in doin' me hair."

Give me left testicle for it - describing how much you would pay for something you really really want.

Got me goin' around like a blue arsed fly - describing how hectic and busy the boss expects you to be.

Jesus in the garden! - an exclamation of surprise or sometimes an oath

Lower than whale poop - very low. I actually heard this on The Hour when General Rick Hillier was interviewed and he was describing the morale of the Canadian military when he took over as Chief.

Never did a big lot - describing someone who in terms of life accomplishments 'didn't do much.'

Shaggin' Around - despite what it sounds like this simply means hanging out or puttering around, hence men can say that on Saturday they were "shaggin' around with the boys."

Small clothes - what you wear to bed

Snottin' an ballin' - crying or whining

True as Christ - very true

Newfoundland Joke

Today will be 15 degrees.

5 in the morning, 5 in the afternoon, 5 in the evening.

More Bergie Bits

Saturday turned out to be a nice day. So we went in search of the Organic Farm in Portugal Cove. The Organic Farm is a family business, and I know one of the family from the pottery studio. Although it is tremendously early for produce here, they have several poly tunnels that they grow greens and herbs in, and later they will plant tomatoes and peppers in them. Locally grown produce is a rare find here at any time, so I was pleased that we found them. It was a challenge. They were down a winding side lane and up a narrow driveway behind a modern house tucked into evergreen trees, sandwiched between two other modern houses tucked into trees. It reminded me of Galiano Island in so many ways. We were the only customers at the time. If they were busy, I think we would have had to walk in from the lane as there was barely enough room to turn the car as it was. This is a norm for here. There are also a number of small plant nurseries tucked in behind what I would consider sub-division houses in the burbs.
They may not be big, but they're small.
After Portugal Cove we went on a jaunt round the Killick Coast to Pouch (pronounced pooch) Cove for some more iceberg spotting. They had three. I work with two guys from Pouch Cove and they assure me that there is a great rivalry between their village and the next one over named Flatrock. We went there too and not to be undone, Flatrock had two icebergs of it's own. Flatrock's bergs were much closer to shore, and so provided a better photo opportunity. Shhhh, don't tell the boys. Flatrock also has a grotto. Sort of. Actually it is a very large shrine with the stations of the cross on it and not a grotto at all. But I've learned that if the locals want to call it a grotto, then there is no use in arguing.







This is one of the bergs at Flatrock, all the way into the cove. The houses behind give you an idea of the size.

We continues to follow the coastline all the way back to town, through Torbay, (no bergs) Middle Cove (3 bergs) and Outer Cover (1 berg visible but it was one of the Middle Cove bergs, really.) Middle Cove is a provincial park and there were hundreds of people there playing in the sand and watching the bergs. While we were there, I heard a great boom like a cannon, and the closest one to shore cracked and rolled a bit. I didn't see the bits fall off, but later there were bits floating close to it and the waves that were generated by these huge bits of ice falling into the ocean created quite a wave wash hitting the beach for several minutes after.

Before and After
















When we arrived home, we were invited to a bonfire at Outer Cove, so we turned around and went back. We have had so few clear days that I was amazed at how long the day length was when it wasn't obscured by thick fog. At 9:30pm we still had twilight left enough to make out the outline of the iceberg and the coastline across the bay.

Lost in Translation

At the plant nursery where I work, I am constantly hearing new Newfoundlandisms which I always forget long before I get home. If I thought no one would notice I would keep a notebook with me and scribble them down.
Today being the start of the May long weekend however, I was struck by some idioms important enough to remember.
Firstly, this is the May 24th long weekend. It is not the Victoria Day weekend, Newfoundlanders follow the English tradition in this way. The English never seemed call it Victoria Day either, go figure.
Also, it is not the Two-Four weekend, because ironically you can't buy beer by the TwoFour here. And unless they have been away to Canada (a good bet, but still) they don't know what a TwoFour is. The province which undoubtedly has the highest consumption of beer per capita sells it only by the dozen, or a half.
This lead to the next conversation topic. A half is a 6 pack.
A flask of liquor is what is known as a pint (in Canada).
A quart (in Canada) is simply termed 'a bottle.'
Regardless of the weather (which continues to be RDF all day, everyday) Newfoundlanders go camping and fishing this weekend. Except it isn't called fishing, it's called troutin'. (Fishing is, I suppose, something done in the North Atlantic while looking for cod.)
Many go to the provincial parks and campgrounds around, but a few hardy souls strike out for the wilderness. One woman I work with is doing this as I type, despite the fact the the woods adjacent to the nursery still have 2 feet of snow covering the ground. Newfoundlanders are extremely proud of their May 24th camping tradition, they seem to feel they invented it and that no one else could possibly be doing the same thing this weekend. Camping occupied no less than four separate reports on the supper hour newscast tonight, three of which were weather related. (ie. "How does the weather affect your camping plans this weekend?", "Slow down as you're leaving town because the fog makes visibility difficult." and "An historic look back in the archives to the May 24th weekend of 1984, when there was still 4 feet of snow everywhere and no one could go camping.") The weather forecast, and the cancelled flights at the airport due to the weather rounded out the news hour. I am not making this up.
Before anyone comments, this is the CBC. The other guys are much much worse.
I'm considering putting the St. John's forecast on this blog page. "Cause if you can't beat 'em, maybe you can shoot yourself in the head instead."
We are not embracing the culture and going camping this weekend. I had my share of RDF tenting in BC.

Iceberg Hunting

Dear Santa, for Christmas I want a telephoto lens.

Yesterday studyboy and I tool advantage of a break in the drizzle ( but not in the fog) to go iceberg hunting. We didn't have to go far, just a quick ride up to Signal Hill and we could see 4.
The local evening news tells us that this is the biggest iceberg year in memory, mostly because the weather has been so cold that the bergs which would have normally melted long before they reached us here in the south, haven't melted and are still floating around. The evening news also gives us the iceberg report along with the weather. It is an update on where to go to see them and includes a map from the International Ice Patrol.

Here are a few of the pictures I took yesterday. This is looking down into Quidi Vidi Gut. It looks small, but the trees in the foreground are 30 ft high.



This is just outside the narrows, with Fort Amherst in the foreground.


This is a long shot, with Cape Spear in the background.

Re-Lent-Less

Definition of relentless: Newfoundland spring.
Today, we saw blue sky for 30 minutes, the first time in 8 days. (And there was great rejoicing.) The temperatures soared to a balmy 6 degrees Celsius, well above the average daily high of 2 degrees with a wind chill of -5.
Although for days our weather announcer has been promising a break in the drizzle and fog I have lost all hope of that happening before July.
Canvassing my co-workers at the nursery I have learned that this March-like hell we are experiencing is completely normal and that this is indeed what Newfoundlanders consider spring. We had freezing fog this morning.
I am wearing more clothes to work now than I ever wore to walk the dog all winter. Winter was in fact warmer because when it wasn't snowing it was sunny. And the province wasn't surrounded by icebergs, essentially turning the Avalon Peninsula into an outdoor icebox.
Yesterday it was announced that there are 22 icebergs off the coast from Pouch Cove to Cape Spear, a distance of less than 30km as the ship sails. Although, if I were in a ship sailing on those waters I be sure to leave my Celine Dion CD at home.
I have started taking cocoa to work because break time is only 15 minutes long, and it takes at least twenty to peel off all the layers when the tea caffeine hits my bladder.
Every morning as I drive to work, I hear the commuter report on the radio. With heavy fog and drizzle making visibility almost nil, the reporter on CBC radio cheerfully announces how many moose have been sighted on the outer ring road. (Today it was 9) I haven't spotted any yet, but with the fog so thick I could have followed one all the way to the airport without knowing it. Unlike the Elk at Banff though, Moose don't seem to hang out at the airport. Maybe because everybody they know is already here.

Back at the Grind

Last week I started back to work at an actual job. Not like the jobs I've had lately... walking the dog, baking muffins. Or even like the jobs I had before that... torturing students, confusing volunteers. (or was that confusing students and torturing volunteers...) This is a job where I actually have to do the work. It was a bit of a shock to the system. The system mostly being the feet I mean. After the first day I found a pair of cushier insoles and hunted around for my foot massager. It now has a place of reverence right next to the remote control.
We still had snow and below freezing temperatures last weekend, so my first days were spent in a warm greenhouse playing with very small plants that were not too heavy. It was a nice way to ease back into the labour force. By midweek though, spring arrived. Spring in NL means fog. And foggy it is. One of the first plays I ever did had a line that described Newfoundland as "the home of fog, cod and fornication." As we haven't seen the house across the street since Wednesday, I'm thinking not much has changed.
This week though looks like the warmer weather will continue and that will mean more outside work, and therefore bigger ( read heavier) plants for me. If I don't post here for a while you'll understand that I can't lift my fingers to type.

How to Rid Your House of Mice

We've had a few mice in the house since the start of winter, but we finally hit on a solution unique to Atlantic Canada. Mail order monsters. They arrived in the mail yesterday, and now that they are fully comfortable with the dog, they set straight to work and we haven't seen any mice since.




Happy April 1st.

Easter Break and other holidays

In Newfoundland, March Break is referred to as Easter Break, and the schools attach the 5 day recess to the Easter weekend, making it 6 school days and two weekends long. If Easter is late in the year, the week off is the week before Easter weekend and the extra day is Easter Monday. This year though, the extra day was Good Friday and the week off is this week. While this seems like poor Newfoundlanders get shortchanged out of that extra day, in fact they still come out far ahead of the game.
The week before Easter included St Patrick's Day, and that is a civic holiday here. Not to be unfair to one founding group of settlers over the other, I'm told we also have a holiday for St. George's Day which happens in April. (I don't even remember celebrating St. George when I lived in England, but there are none more British than the British abroad.) Also we get Orangeman's Day in July because cultural and religious oppression is still OK here.
Other provincial holidays include Discovery Day in June (sometimes known as St. John's Day) , and Regatta Day in August. July 1 is called Memorial Day, not even Dominion Day as to used to be called in Canada, despite the fact that we still have Dominion Stores here. In fact Newfoundland has more holidays that any other province in Canada by far. We have an extra 6 altogether in addition to the National ones, while the rest of the provinces get only two, or in some cases only one. It's true look it up here.

Yes, it snowed a little

The other side of the street was blown clear by high winds, but we had a 4 foot snowdrift across the door this morning when we got up. Now we are getting freezing rain and the snow if getting heavy. The plow has only cleared these side streets in one direction so far, so we are hoping he will be back later to clear our parking spot and we won't have to.

Happy St. Patricks Day

Which, in Newfoundland, is an actual holiday. And also a great source of consternation to Newfoundlanders I am told, because it comes in the middle of Lent when everyone is supposed to be giving up the drink. No one seemed to realise that you could celebrate the day without getting pie eyed. None of the legends and stories associated with Patrick have anything to do with drinking as far as I can tell. There is another tradition here about the weather called Shelagh's brush. It is 'the last' storm about the time of St. Patrick's Day. Tradition states that if it is before St. Patrick's Day, the spring will be long and miserable, but if it is after, it is Shelagh removing the last of winter with her brush or broom and the spring will be nice. Last Thursday we had a bit of a squall that dumped a lot of mixed snow, ice, rain, sleet, and freezing ice pellets on us for 15 hours and people started talking about Shelagh and a long miserable spring. Yesterday we had a blizzard with high winds and a foot of snow. Studyboy remarked that Shelagh must have brought the whole cleaning cart with her. Tonight we are forecast to get two more feet of snow. Apparently she's contracted out to a Merry Maids this year.

"I ain't ded" - Granny

Yes we are still here. And yes we are well, but too preoccupied with ordinary activities to write anything interesting here.
And Studyboy has monopolized the computer area with paper writing and is only now emerging from lock down in the lair.
Last weekend I attended a workshop on tile making and decorating given by visiting artists Deb Kuzyk and Ray Mackie from Lucky Rabbit Pottery in Annapolis Royal. They had a new show opening at the Craft Council Art Gallery called the Relationship of Bees to Flowers and graciously consented to do an afternoon workshop and a talk on their work. You can see some of their beautiful stuff at their website.
Attending a workshop like this is a bit like watching the Brier on TV. You can see how it is done. You pick up some really good tips. It totally jazzes you up to try it out. And then you get depressed when skill doesn't match understanding. Like I used to tell my students "Knowing is not the same as doing."
Deb introduced us to some underglaze techniques that when she demonstrated them, looked so effortless. And she left behind some small samples of underglaze for us to try out. I had the privilege to play with them on Wednesday morning, and quickly realized that no matter how forgiving the media is for a pro, the results of my trials still looked blobby and childish.
This weekend, despite my blobby and childish efforts I have been asked to demonstrate pottery making techniques at the Multicultural Fair for the studio. Lately I have been mad for a type of hand building called coiling. The whole point of which is to make it look blobby in a three dimensional sense, like this teapot.
(If you can't beat it, perfect it.) And in case you are wondering, yes it does hold water and pours quite nicely too.

Rant

The first time I heard about planned obsolescence was in grade nine. The idea that things are manufactured with a specific life span so people would need to continue buying new things irks me. Since August 2000, we have bought 5 kettles. The most recent being today, making the average life span of a kettle 22.75 months, or under 2 years.
OK, we are heavy kettle users. Admittedly we make an average of 3-4 pots of tea a day. Making 2128 boils per kettle. But Studyboy and I have a habit of forgetting to use the first kettle of water and we have to re-boil it probably half the time, so add another 50% to that to make it 3192 times before the average kettle gives up the ghost.
Plus, if you read the directions, they always suggest boiling it twice before using to clean out any manufacturing debris, thereby cheating you out of two perfectly good boils.
It is not the element that goes. It is not the cord. It is not the on/off button or any of the moving parts on the cover. In all the kettles that have crapped out in the past 7 years, it has been the plastic bottom that eventually starts to melt and then bubble where the heat of the element weakens it over time. But get this, no matter what the brand or the style, or the price, all kettles have an exterior plastic bottom. (or at least all the ones at Cambodian Tire) Co-incidence? I think not.
But I got my small revenge. When you register the product for the 12 month (aka the 11 months too short) warrantee, they ask you to fill out a voluntary survey so they can 'know their customers better'. I always fill it out. Today, I am a 65+ single woman, who is retired, makes over $500,000 a year. I own a cat and my main hobbies are skiing and investing money. Take that Black and Decker!

Newfoundland Comedy Hour

I have written previously about how St. John's doesn't have sidewalk clearing in the winter. The city itself doesn't have the funds for clearing sidewalks, and there is no bylaw that makes people shovel out the sidewalks in front of their houses. Partly this is because in heavy snowfall winters, there would be just no place to put the snow on the crowded city streets where row houses sit right on the sidewalks for blocks and blocks. The alternative for years has been for pedestrians to walk on the streets. After heavy snows, the narrow streets are even more narrow and motorists have to weave around parked cars and walkers and people waiting for buses. When the snow blower does come round to clear sidewalks, it leaves a hard packed layer that alternate rains and freezes turn to ice. It is pretty dangerous. Just before Christmas there was a public demonstration to pressure St. John's City Council to approve funding for sidewalk clearing. Last winter there was a pilot project that cleared sidewalks close to schools and hospitals for about $180, 000. Council voted to not fund that project this winter.
Then Mayor Andy Wells was given a new job. He will be the head of the Public Utilities Board in March. This lead to a whole new controversy about whether he should resign as Mayor in March, triggering an expensive by-election or staying on as mayor until September, when there will only be 12 months left until a full election and the Deputy Mayor is allowed to fill in for that time.
After news that Andy is leaving was made public, the Deputy Mayor Dennis O'Keefe decided he wanted to listen to the public opinion on sidewalks and brought the issue before council again. He proposed they fund sidewalk clearing on all major roads to the tune of $500,000. St. John's City Council meetings are broadcast on the cable network each week, and the locals call those broadcasts the Newfoundland Comedy Hour because Andy et al can get a little feisty at times. Listen to this first 3 and a half minutes of this Real audio clip from council meeting that the local CBC morning show aired the next day. It is hilarious! You can also read the CBC news item here.

The Postman Always Knocks 'Shave and A Haircut'

It doesn't have the same ring as the title of the classic dark thriller, but it has the advantage of being true.
Our postman really does knock "Shave and A Haircut' when he has a package to deliver. We get a lot of packages. Study boy has substituted buying tools on EBay with buying books on Barnes and Nobel (and Ebay, and Amazon...).
A few weeks ago I was walking the dog on Merrymeeting Road and we passed a postman delivering mail. It was our postman, I didn't recognise him because postmen are like waiters, they all look the same, but he stopped me and asked if I was going to be home that morning as he a parcel for me. I was blocks away from my house and he not only knew me out of context but also knew that somewhere in a truck full of mail, I was going to get a parcel that day. I am amazed at this. We live in a city! It's a small city, but I'll bet that his route has as much mail to deliver to as many households as a postman in TO.
Then this week, we came home to find a notice of attempted parcel delivery in the mailbox. That's the card they leave to tell you where you can go to pick up your mail, after noon the next day. Usually it is a postal outlet in a drugstore, in our case it is the Shoppers on LeMarchant Road. The card indicated we could pick it up at number 10. The postman had left our parcel with Fred and Jean next door. I'm pretty sure he's not supposed to do this. We live in a city. They don't even do this in the country! I'm not complaining, I liked it.
The next day I was walking the dog on Aldershot, blocks from my house when I saw our postman again. He asked if I got my parcel, and said that Fred and Jean have lived at number 10 for years so he figured it was OK. It's true, Fred and Jean have been at number 10 for fifty years. Apparently a constant address is a good enough reference for Canada Post.

Pancake Day

It is called Pancake Day here in NL. But whatever you call it; Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras... it is a BIG DEAL here. For weeks CBC radio has been advertising that the morning show would be broadcasting from a hotel in the Battery this morning while serving up Pancakes. Every church and community group in the city is hosting a breakfast, lunch or supper of pancakes today. Even Studyboy took the electric frying pan to school today for a special pancake lunch in the sociology department. I cannot stress how important today seems to be for the average Newfoundlander, and all I've been thinking is "If this is how they do Fat Tuesday, what will Easter be like?"
St. John's is a pretty Catholic place, and anticipating that a foreign student friend of Studyboy's would ask about the significance of today's ritual, I consulted a local I know at the pottery studio to get my facts straight. She let me in on an interesting custom I think may be unique to NL.
Newfoundlanders put stuff in their pancakes. I don't mean like blueberries. She listed off a number of unusual items which, when found in your pancake, were meant to predict what you would grow up to be. Such as:
A cross - the recipient would grow up to be a priest or a nun.
A thimble - who ever found this would become a tailor.
Money - the finder would be rich.
A small piece of nail (not too sharp, I was assured) - and I didn't quite get the significance of what the finder would become, although the nail itself was symbolic of the ones used at the crucifixion.
All this was confirmed today by another friend at the studio, who says his mum used to put her wedding ring in the batter, and whoever found it was sure to get married. It was interesting though that he had forgotten or never knew the whole reason for Pancakes to begin with.

When Studyboy was Carpenter Man

Last weekend Studyboy was asked to do some handy work at a friend's house. Nothing big, just hang a couple kitchen shelves and a bathroom vanity cabinet in exchange for lunch. I was invited along for the lunch.
Malin is from Sweden, so naturally all the pieces were from IKEA. Swedes consider assembling IKEA pieces without instructions to be their birthright. She was pretty adept at it actually and I struggled to keep pace when we assembled the vanity cabinet while the boys did mysterious things with stud finders and magnets in the kitchen.
While assembly might be a birthright, actually attaching things to the wall requires an expert, and so Carpenter Man made a brief appearance. It was nice to see him again. Apparently Malin and Pablo have been waiting 8 months to get the shelves put up. I know how they feel, I waited at least that long for a bathtub.
And lunch was certainly worth a little work with a hex key and a level.

Tips for the Home Ecomomist

I have always been a jar saver. I blame my depression era parents who built a house with 2 basements just so they would have enough room to save all the possibly useful flotsam and jetsam that flowed their way. Maybe it's just my maritime heritage; drive through rural Nova Scotia and you often see houses with outbuildings and dooryards stuffed with debris. Dad just designed his storage to be vertical rather than horizontal. When I was a child the coloured pieces of plastic for the lite-brite were stored in baby food jars. So it is no real surprise that I have a fondness for re-using empty jars as containers for other things. Honey jars, pickle jars, and peanut butter jars are just the right size for bulgar wheat, corn meal and nuts. I use jars to store all those things that come in crinkly plastic envelopes because they are easier to stack and are mouse proof. How many times have I reached for the skim milk powder only to find it pouring out the bottom from a hole that shouldn't be there?
Lately, the labels on all jars have been rather stickier though, leaving a uniform gum on the jar when I try to remove it and resisting all attempts to scrub or soak it off. I'm not sure why the change happened, but it is annoying.
Maybe the chemical formula changed to make the labels resist washing off because everybody is recycling now, (except NL) and recycling places like jars clean but with the labels still on.
Maybe the companies are using alternative gums that are not derived from trees that are rain forest harvested. If that's the case, good for them, but I'm still annoyed.
Maybe it's just a cost thing.
For the past several months I have been wavering between leaving the labels on, so that the jar says Honey but obviously it is pecans, or taking them off and ignoring the permanent sticky residue. Neither is completely satisfactory.
Today I had a small success. I remembered back to when Studyboy was Carpenter Man and we were shingling the roof. We had to use roofing compound to seal around the flue, and it is a horrible sticky stuff that resists all the usual cleaners. Our friend Ron was helping that day and told us that butter would work. He was so right. It was amazing. So I tried it this morning on a Honey jar, and it worked. I smeared the butter all over the sticky residue, and then soap and water took it away. It only worked on the glass jars though, on plastic the gum just smooshed around and it didn't lift off any better than before.
I don't understand the chemistry, I just use it.

Bounty Day

January is a rather dull month excepting that nearly everyone I know including myself and my father have birthdays this month.
So there is not much to write about these days.
January 21 was Dad's birthday, but more importantly I have recently learned from a friend's blog that it is also National Hugging Day.
So I thought to myself "If nationals can get a special day to hug all to themselves, then everyday in the calendar year must have some signifigance somewhere."
I decided to do some research and found some interesting facts about today, January 23, on answers.com

The first thing I found was that Anne Boleyn discovered she was preggo today in 1533. Perhaps she took National Hugging Day a little too seriously. A blunderbuss wedding to Henry ensued.

The next thing to peak my interest was that Sir Edward Pellew died today in 1833, some 300 years after Anne was up the duff (so it couldn't have been him.) This was interesting only because I didn't know he was a real person and not just some character made up by C.S. Forester. (And acted supremely by Robert Lindsay)

I really hit the mark when I discovered this gem about how Pitcairners celebrate an act of vandalism on a ship of the Royal Navy. (Sir Edward would have been aged 33 at this time and probably a Lieutenant or a Commander so he would have taken Bligh's opinion on this episode.) Below is a cut and paste of the original from answers.com, the links don't work, but they do if you go to the original source.

"Bounty Day is celebrated on Pitcairn Island on January 23rd, in commemoration of the burning of HMAV Bounty by the mutineers in 1790. Model replicas, made by the islanders, are burned.

Sequence of events

Bounty Day starts off with the a re-enactment of the landing of the Pitcairners down at the Kingston Pier. The Pitcairners are greeted by the Administrator and his wife.

From the pier they then march to the cenotaph where they lay wreaths in remembrance.

From the cenotaph they march to the cemetery where they sing hymns.

After the cemetery they head on over to Government House where a family being either Evans, McCoy, Buffett, Adams, Nobbs, Christian or Young are awarded family of the year. The children roll down the hill in front of Government House.

After this they go to the Compound where the children play games and everyone feasts on wonderful food.

After this they go home and get ready for the Bounty Ball where there is a competition."

A competition which one assumes would beat rolling down a hill or being named family of the year.
One of my favourite things about the series Gilmore Girls was the crazy town celebrations they always had in Stars Hollow. Truth is stranger than fiction.