Life's a Stitch

You can tell by the clouds that the weather is changing. That can be good or bad, depending on your location. Lakefront camping gave us a good view of the prognostic skies. 

Yes, things changed. The winds whipped up as the temperatures rose. Although the heat felt lower than it actually was, we were unable to keep our awning extended for sun protection and were no longer able to cook or eat outside. The gale coated us, and everything else, with sand. Father's Day morning saw our sweet potato waffle production move inside our tiny trailer. Not what I had in mind, but it was still delicious. 

After ten days we packed up, excited to return home for the first reunion with one of our children after a long year. M and KC came in from Calgary to enjoy the house while we were gone. So much pandemic dreariness dispensed with in an instant, the second we saw them!

Our post camping challenge was coping with the Pacific Northwest heatwave. Air conditioning is not a thing here. Living by the water it always cools down in the evening. Until now. When building our house we questioned the expense of roughing in central a/c and were told it was good for resale. Now were glad to have the option given the way global warming is progressing.

Meals were planned that didn’t involve generating kitchen heat. KC took his turn at our favourite pizza recipe, cooked outside on the gas grill.

The clouds shifted again, and it quickly went from a record setting 38C (100.4) to 22C (71.6F), far more comfortable. Outside cooking migrated back into the kitchen, where simultaneously being created were homemade pasta, waffles and two batches of sugar free butter rum ice cream, one with cherries and the other, pineapple. 

 

Not the adventures in my painting brain, as described in my last post. We welcomed the summer with a camping trip. Finally allowed out of our health region, we packed our double vaccinated selves into the car and trailer, and off we went over the mountains, to Osoyoos, Canada’s only desert.

 

Consistent with that title, it’s the hottest spot, temperature wise, and has the warmest lake in the country. It’s also the wine capital of BC, reminiscent of the Napa Valley.

 

High winds kicked up the surf on the lake so our waterfront campsite felt like we might be camping in Mexico or Hawaii. Listening to the waves at night, and inland gulls during the day, it was hard to believe we weren’t by the ocean. The sunsets were on par with those more exotic destinations. 

 

 

 

Day were spent reading, painting and exploring the area by bike, allowing ourselves two visits to winery tasting rooms per outing. It felt like a dream after so many months of isolation.

 

To be continued…

That was a particularly appealing title for the recent art society challenge. Especially since we were still in lockdown. At that point it was like living on an island, the ocean to the west, not being permitted to leave our health region to the east, and the Canadian/US borders closed to the north and south. 

 

So I threw myself vicariously into my summer adventure painting. It’s located in the Capilano Canyon, in the rain forest, where we lived for nearly 30 years. To turn it into an adventure, I used my artistic licence and plunked in my grandsons on a fishing adventure. When my daughter saw it she responded immediately. “Where are their parents? Where are their life jackets? Why are they so close to the edge?” Good, I thought, she doesn’t want it. Off it’ll go for sale at next show. 😉

A long time ago I took a painting course where the instructor said her most successful paintings were ones where she connected emotionally with the story in the scene. It worked this time. I connected and my summer adventure painting won first prize.

Pink cherry blossom snow:

Blue sky:

Lavender wisteria:

Spring green:

Orange – Low carb sweet potato waffles:

Grey storm clouds and mountains:

The rainbow after the storm:

We’re all hoping for one these days.

Despite the lack of travel opportunities, I spent a few days this week at a destination resort, aka Peace Arch Hospital, which included:

1. Meals, as long as they were liquid in nature
2. Entertainment thanks to Alex, the Ukranian Robin Williams-esque nurse, who would bound enthusiastically into the room carrying a tray of meds announcing "Hello Ladies, I've come with chemical cocktails!"
3. Photos as in x-rays and a CT
4. The chance to meet new people – you know it's a pandemic when…the most socializing you've done in over a year is during a hospital stay. I wonder what people thought with all the laughter emanating from our end of hall.
5. Souvenir jewelry – a personalized bracelet.

It was a replay of my hospital visit seven years prior – an inconvenient obstruction just below my stomach. But all appears to be well and I'm on the mend. A bit too much excitement in these more subdued times if you ask me. 

I’ve written about what we call the Covid tax, the premium you pay when prices are higher due to the pandemic. Think shopping at a smaller grocery store to avoid crowds. I’m paying twice what I should for a couple of everyday items shipped from the US.

Aside from the tax, the cost of Covid manifests itself in other ways. Last Christmas’s gathering was cancelled on a moment’s notice. alternative plans were put in place, where over Zoom the family met to open each other’s gifts. The expectation was we’d be together in a matter of months, gifts in hand.

This is a little complicated, so stick with the story. Daughter E, ordered a very special gift for her sister, M, who’s a fan of certain things gnome. This very delicate handmade Christmas gnome featured a dark and white chocolate figurine that was filled with milk chocolate macadamia dragee.

Isn’t he irresistibly cute – that button nose, the bell and snowflake on his hat? And all made of chocolate!

I was tasked with the Christmas Eve pickup from Chez Christophe, a fancy French patisserie up the street from our house aka a carb laden heaven. On the counter was a petite army of holiday delicacies, in their elegant clear houses tied with satin. I spotted him, “Gnome for the holidays” standing next to his white chocolate friend, a snowman in a compromised position.

Little did I appreciate what I now know was a real life example of dramatic foreshadowing.

Oh so carefully we made our way home, ready for his Zoom unveiling the following morning. He was a very popular little dude, indeed.

Mailing something so delicate was out of the question, so over the months I took care of him, awaiting his eventual handover to M. I suggested we freeze him, but you know what happens to chocolate in the freezer – he’d be decorated with a coat of white condensation dust – not all that inappropriate for a winter loving guy. But the decision was made to leave him in hibernation in the dining room cupboard.

Five months hence a Covid opportunity presented itself – little gnome was invited on a trip to Alberta, his ultimate destination. E’s MIL was shipping her empty car to them and invited us to use the space. Off went the two river tables lovingly made by C, the crokinole board for the boys, and our little hitchhiker, the chocolate gnome, packed in a larger box cushioned with rolls of soft foam.

For reasons beyond our control, what should have been a 12 hour trip stretched to two weeks. Happily the car was delivered in one piece. The gnome as well. One piece resembling the Wicked Witch of the West at the end of the Wizard of Oz.

He had a literal meltdown, but I’m embarrassed to admit there was actual laughing at his expense. When E shared his picture I was in a Zoom meeting where laughter would be the height of impropriety, but I successfully stifled it.

Epilogue: Gnome for the Holidays will again be placed in hibernation until M can enjoy him, whatever ever his shape, which resembles a worse version of his melting snowman friend. The moral of this story: For this gnome, there’s no place like home.

…there was internet. Yes, almost a week after the garbage truck took down our overhead cables, internet was finally restored to our house. Insult was added to injury when the technician told me about a nearby apartment that didn't have reception for an entire weekend when a dump truck at a construction site across the street took down their lines. I wonder how their service was restored so quickly. Never mind, it's over and here I am. 

Two good things: most important is that after long delay, we were finally able to receive our first Pfizer vaccine. Canada, without the ability to produce its own vaccines, contracted with providers in the UK, Europe, the US and India. Given the disastrous covid conditions in those areas, shipments were diverted to their own populations, leaving Canada mostly vaccine free. As supplies dribbled in, an age based system was implemented. Although we are four years apart in age, C had his on Monday and mine was on Tuesday. That was a step in the right direction as I was feeling the length of isolation when we hit the 400 day mark this week. It's frustrating sticking to the rules while restrictions continue to tighten as the result of those who don't.

Now Canada is in a race: vaccine vs the virus. We haven't hit the point where the numbers are going down as the result of mass inoculations. Comparatively our stats are better than other North American regions. I heard an interesting stat: the populations of the state of Minnesota and the Province of BC are comparable, however, the number of covid deaths in MN total 7100, while in BC we're at 1550.

The second good thing was the amazing summer-like weather we've been enjoying. Lots of opportunities for bike rides, walks and deck time. 

This painting, from my last class with David R Smith fits the conversation. It's a summer scene in Northern Minnesota.

Yesterday, a typical covidly quiet afternoon, when suddenly there was an exceedingly loud “thwack” against the side of the house. So loud I felt the house shudder ever so slightly. Earthquake? Exceptionally large bird strike? Nope. Picture this – the equivalent of a giant slingshot.

A garbage truck did a u-turn in front of our house, catching the cables above and stretching them until they released their stored elastic energy at great speed, making contact with the cable’s point of attachment on our house. Good thing there were no projectiles caught in the cable nor anybody on the sidewalk. That could have been one of those tragically random events that leaves people saying “whoa, you know your time is up when…”

The worst outcome was to be expected. No internet. So here I am blogging purely on phone power. And as nobody from the company has shown up, and we’re heading into a weekend, my hopes of repair are waning. What was my first clue? They don’t give you a Monday backup appointment for nothing.

What I was planning on posting, prior to the distraction: 

After three tries I was pleased with the results. Inspiration and technique learned from instructor David R. Smith. 

There are probably many socially isolating folks like us out there who have gotten into the rhythm of their favourite tabletop game. Puzzles, board games, chess maybe? Friends of ours play cribbage daily, with the promise of teaching us when this homebound sentence lifts. C and I play the Croke, aka Crokinoke:

Crokinole (/ˈkroʊkɪnoʊl/ KROH-ki-nohl) is a disk-flicking dexterity board game, possibly of Canadian origin, similar to the games of pitchnut, carrom, and pichenotte, with elements of shuffleboard and curling reduced to table-top size.

Run on sentence warning. When our kids were young, we were gifted a hand-me-down board, put to hard enough use that when we moved C convinced me to throw out the bent and missing peg, dog chewed game, agreeing I could buy a new one once we were settled.

Two years at our new house, the time came. I shopped online, C searched for woodworking plans. He won. Off we went to our local building supply for materials,  astonishingly pricy due to pandemic demand. Don’t worry, says he, it’ll make three, one for us and two for future gifts. Long story short, take three produced our one board.

He modified an old wooden box to hold the discs and pegs:

And since we’re of an age where playing on the floor is uncomfortable, he’s mounted it on legs in front of our comfy chairs.

That’s a long story for a short, but enjoyable game. There’s a modified version for four players, something to look forward to. Anyone in?