The Complex Art of Simplicity

I really really REALLY am much happier and more at peace when my home/wardrobe/makeup/lifestyle is uncluttered, pared-down, smoothed-out.  Thus I have simplified and streamlined over the past ten years, and have had to perform a few 'do-overs'.  Once simplicity is accomplished, family, friends, jobs, neighbours, and the cosmos itself conspires to undo all of your work and mess up all that tidiness.

Mind you, simplicity is more than tidiness or minimalism.  It is a state of mind that says 'this is enough; I don't need more than this'.  Face it.  Nobody NEEDS more than two dresses, a skirt, a pair of trousers, a pair of jeans, four tops, and a blazer.  Heck - nuns get by on way less than that even, but most women in the west would be horrified to make do with one outfit and one spare.  A few good scarves, about three pairs of shoes; flats, pumps, and sandals, will take care of most situations to which the modern middle aged woman is likely to endure.

The big problem with me is that I am always catastropanicking which is NOT a word so don't use it!  The 'what if they stop making this dress and I have to get something else that I really hate?" enters my mind and POW!  I get three more of them to store "just in case".   There goes simplicity.  The closet is minimal but the storage cupboard is chaos.  Eventually, with enough of this kind of thinking, the wardrobe can become unwieldy.  It is a constant battle to keep myself from that propensity to stock up on things that aren't food.  In an emergency, cans of soup and bottled water will save me.  Four identical black dresses will not.

So, what is a good semi-minimal wardrobe for a woman like me?  For winter:  a black three quarter sleeved dress in ponte knit and also a grey one, a black wool blazer, black ultra-suede skirt, grey and red cashmere cardies than can be buttoned and worn as a pullover, four tunic styled T-shirts with my favourite three-quartered sleeves, a couple of hats for church - plain, and to vary the look of everything there are scarves, fabric flower corsages, bows, and collars.  This works so well that a lady recently marveled at my magnificent hat collection!  Of course I own a decent pair of jeans but I don't wear them often. I also have black maryjanes, pumps, and boots.  There are a few more shoes than that because they are my weakness.

For summer:  one grey long tank dress, one black knee length tank, both a black and a white cotton jacket, four tunics, three tees, and two pair of cotton pants.  Two straw hats with bendable brims, and a really cute raffia sailor I got in Lunenberg last year!  Black slides, red slides, and red sandals round things out.  This summer I am carrying a chicken purse. Note however that I have a tasteful black leather fold-over bag/clutch as well.  The chicken will not be heading out to a good restaurant.

Of course it is ridiculous, but that is why I love it!

The tunics, tunic styled T-shirts, tees, and cardies can move back and forth to span seasons and offer up more variety.

I learned a long time ago that if  I get a dress in a really fashionable style, colour, or print, that after I have worn it once or twice it becomes trite.  It also is not something that can stick with you from year to year without looking dated and pathetic.  This is why I stick to black and grey and use colour and pattern in the accessories.  A red belt and red/black/grey/cream/ patterned scarf draw the eye away from the LBD that is the same day in and day out.

Could become tiresome...

 As for traveling, well I cannot stand to carry about and worry over a lot of stuff.  I want the absolute rock bottom of contents in my little suitcase.  However, laundry is a concern especially with socks and underwear and they don't always dry overnight in hotel bathrooms.  Enter the superb Tilly company of Canada.  I am building a minimal travel wardrobe of high-quality items that should last the rest of my life.  They will be used for our trips, including our many weekenders we plan to take.  Tilly guarantees that two pair of socks and two pair of underwear will take you around the world and last three years!  They are quick drying so a quick hand-wash in the evening with Woolite or Euclan is all that is needed. 

To this I shall add a black dress that also is wash and wear and can be stuffed into a corner of a backpack and still be free of wrinkles, and ditto for a pair of slacks.  

The amazing traveling dress

Two tunic tops and one shawl jacket will complete things and with a few colourful accessories and two pair of shoes, take me anywhere I could possibly wish to go.  The Tilly stuff isn't cheap but it isn't outrageously expensive either and they guarantee their products.  Good enough for me.  I should be able to literally travel with a little carry-on or a backpack, yet be free of the jeans and tatty hippy image of the minimalist traveler.

I will report back in a year on how this all works. 

Growth

The boys are growing fast.  I realize that is the nature of all mammalia but these are MY babies so I am entitled to make fatuous statements.

Mortimer at two months

Raoul at two months

They are now a handful and have become so social and friendly that I am sure they could spend the entire day on our shoulders.  We would allow this except for their propensity for pooping at awkward times.  One does not want to have to dodge torpedoes while cooking or eating.  As they get older this will become less of an issue.

Speaking of shoulders:

Mortimer whispers sweet nothings to Studly

Raoul hides out in Rachel's hair

What Jean Luc Picard Said

"Make it so".  Since this whole blog thing is based on the fact that I am a person who makes stuff, I have devoted very little space to stuff I have made.

There is a good reason for that.  I didn't want to blather on without pictures and I couldn't seem to overcome my inertia to take some pictures.  Today I shrugged off the moorings and engaged the engines and that will about do it for the Trekkie references.

Although I usually have exhibited as a painter, I find that lately I have wanted to invent things in fiber, specifically in knitted goods.  Clothing, hats, preemie things, dolls, teddy garments, dressed up critters, and even some sweaters have been keeping me happily occupied.  All are of my own design or else they have begun as a pattern but my constitutional incapability of following instructions always ensures that I tweak and change things until the item undergoes a metamorphosis and becomes my very own.

First up are my best sellers, the Birbies.  A Birby is a flightless bird that has no wings or feet.  Birbies roll or are carried by their besotted companions.

A flock of Birbies

Next is a happy teddy with matching cardigan and hat, followed by a wardrobe of raglan sleeved pullovers.

 Sock yarn is great for critter clothing.

The pullovers cover Valentine's Day, Spooky moon for Halloween, potted flowers for spring, an autumn leaf, and a dressy red top with frilled lace trim.

Down we head to some of my favourites, the Flumps.  As yet they aren't named.  I just love making these and no two are ever alike although that can be said about everything that I make. 









Here are two well dressed girly frogs.  The frogs were purchased from Ikea but the clothing is designed by yours truly.

Last but not least for today is a plain muslin doll dressed up with a knitted wig, underpants, sweater, socks, shoes, felted satchel and teddy bear, and a hand-sewn skirt.

This is what keeps me from withering away with uselessness when the fibromyalgia symptoms of pain, depression, and exhaustion overwhelm me.  The creative spark is more necessary to me than vitamins! 

The Animals That Live In Our Hearts Part 2

This is Piper, a purebred Scottish Terrier - proper name is Aberdeen Terrier.  You will remember the black dog from Black & White whiskey, or the thick-brogued, fellow from "Lady and the Tramp".  


These dogs have held a long spot in the hearts of my family.  My paternal grandmother had a scotty, and my father spent a great deal of time with his sergeant-major's Jock during the second world war.  My sister now has her second scotty.


Us?  Well, after our beloved Moo died, we were dog-less for over a year and had no wish to look for another.  We would half-halfheartedly discuss another dog, but then let the conversation die.  It seemed that we would just not bother again.


Then, one day out of the blue, our friend Greg called with a woeful story of a little dog that needed a home because her family could no longer care for her.  Mum was a school principal and dad had Alzeimer's.  The care giver had no time to give the dog, a five year old female scotty.  Without missing a beat I agreed to take her, then went to wake up my husband who had just come off of a midnight shift to tell him we were about to become dog people again.


That evening Greg, his wife and daughter, brought Piper to us.  I fell in love instantly as is my wont, and Piper moved into our lives.  She had been bred of champion stock in France, and shipped here to a breeder who showed her and put a lot of championship points on her.  Piper was then bred twice and had two litters of pups who went on to become prize winners and calendar dogs.  After her usefullness as a money-maker was completed, she was sold as a pet to the aforementioned couple.


Now she was ours.  Piper was a great little dog.  She was so quiet we couldn't quite believe it.  She hardly ever made a sound which is grand for apartment folks.  She adjusted to us very quickly and developed a huge crush on Studly as dogs do, although she and I maintained an easy friendship as well.


Piper was not only quiet, she was never in a hurry.  Studly got no exercise whatsoever when walking her as her methods consisted of taking a couple of little steps then sniffing the bejarpurs out of whatever was on the ground.  It could take an hour to go around the block.  I insisted she walk to heel but Studly let her make all the decisions.  His patience with her was endless.


This was an extremely popular dog in our building.  There is a Bingo game each Monday evening and the Bingo players are very serious about it all, but they would call a break to visit with Piper if she walked past the common room.  Ditto for card nights.  Piper would stroll into the lounge as if she owned it and go to each person and say her version of 'hello'.

Watching her walk away was a surefire medicine to make you smile.  Those funny little hairy legs and that foursquare body were guaranteed to make the worst curmudgeon grin and bend over to stroke her head.  Our friend Chuck considered her to be his 'other' dog. Piper could charm the angels themselves I'm sure.


In Pipers sixth year with us she developed lumps under her chin, and when we took her to the vet he found a big mass in her abdomen.  The verdict was grim.  Cancer had invaded and it was aggressive and fast-growing.  She had stopped wanting to eat or walk and that morning she had laid herself down outside, an act so unlike her that it frightened us.


We had to make the hard decision to give her an easy death before the illness robbed her of all quality of life.  We kissed her and thanked her for her love and companionship.  Studly told her not to worry, that  'Daddy will make it all better'.  Then, while we held her in our arms and kissed her head, the vet helped her gently slip away.


We are still in the mourning phase of this goodbye and as of right this minute, our plan is to not have another dog, but to give ourselves some time of freedom from schedules and so forth.  Maybe what we are really doing is giving ourselves some vacation from heartbreak.


Of course, just this week we had our dear friend's precious boy Kagnay with us for a few days while he was away.  It was awfully nice to have this little bundle of affection around and we willingly enslaved ourselves for him.  I think we are basket cases when it comes to animals.  Kagnay and Piper were good pals so it kind of brought her back for a bit too.


Time will tell as it always does.  Never say never is an old chestnut but I have lived long enough to realize its truth.  We will see.

This is Kagnay the miniature pinscher.  How adorable is he?

Embracing the Lady Poverty

"St. Francis weds Lady Poverty" - allegory by Giotto

It was about six or so years ago that I realized that I was snowed under by way too much stuff.  Too many choices, too many pieces of clothing, too much makeup (why does anybody need 12 tubes of lipstick?), too many dishes, ornaments, too much furniture, a house too big for our needs, too many things, things, things!!!  It had all coalesced into a huge albatross that flapped and squawked about our necks and caused terrific head and backaches.

Accordingly, I (make that we) made a private vow of poverty - to live with a minimum of possessions, and to endeavor to live even without those if called upon to give them.
During these six years I have had to purge at least a dozen times. No matter what I give away out the front door, something sneaks in the back door and takes up residence. Either that or stuff reproduces when I am not looking...
 
Maybe it's like keeping gerbils or something.

Anyway - practicing poverty requires a certain level of ruthlessness in this society. The siren song of "more" is ever before our faces and we have to determinedly look away.

I went to a seminar on voluntary poverty at our parish a few years ago and was both gratified and astounded. Gratified because it was very well attended. Astounded because of the attendees most of them were very well-off and they spent a great portion of the seminar justifying their goods and chattels, and saying that there was nothing wrong with being rich, but that one must be careful that they didn't start thinking they were better than others because of it, and similar statements.  It was surreal.


 
I think they wanted to be blessed for their wealth.  Of course, then I had to chastise myself for being so (%&#  judgmental.  It is true that real poverty of spirit incorporates charity of thought!

I need to be so very careful of my thoughts and judgements. For instance - I often see those who I know have a lot of money and who spend a great deal on their pleasure and possessions, their wants and whims, put a dollar in the collection basket. (I get roped into taking up collection a lot of the time. Is this to keep me challenged?) At the time I so want to turn them upside down and shake them until they fork over a substantial amount! Then I have to figuratively smack myself upside the head to remind me to have some charity. I don't know their thoughts, and I don't know their struggles and I've been there myself so how dare I entertain these prejudicial thoughts about them?

Humility is a bear.

Charitable thoughts are a bear.

Poverty is great - just a bear to attain voluntarily. 


So many bears, so little strength.  May God's grace shine on me and keep me grateful!

Lots of bears

Pictorial Definition of the word "Miracle"

Our one year old Godson, Alexander

This happy, charming little fellow will turn one tomorrow.  Ho hum you say?  Just another baby, you say?


NO, I say.


This wee man was born a couple of months ahead of time and weighed about the same as the average teacup chihuahua - about three pounds.  He had a hole in his intestine and had to be airlifted to a children's hospital in Ottawa for emergency surgery, after which he wore an ostomy bag until he was ten pounds, which took six months.


There was some concern that his eyesight and hearing were damaged and that he might show some signs of mental or physical incapacity as he aged.

Well, pshaw.  Alex is smart, sweet, strong as an ox, hears and sees perfectly well, and is an affectionate little boy.  Developmentally he is catching up to those born full term, and he shows no signs of slowing down.  This is a highly condensed version of his trials and victories but I doubt my fingers would stand up to typing the unabridged story!


There were a lot of prayers and petitions, hopes, crossed-fingers,  hard work and worry over this child for the first year of his life, but in November he was baptized, and this week are the celebrations of the first year of life for a well-loved boy.  His mother pointed out that more than a birthday party, we are celebrating a Life party.  She is right.

Happy birthday; happy life, little miracle boy, and all praise and glory to God for letting us know you and learn about patience, trust, faith, and acceptance.  It is a lot to be contained in such a tiny package, isn't it?  But contain it you have and do.  We love you.

By ANY Other Name

Pet rats suffer outrageous epithets from those who don't see past the name.  Surely dogs would suffer the same were we to call them 'wolves' as this is essentially what they are.  We have domesticated them to the point that they are tame, affectionate, easily trained, and boon companions, so unless one has a pathological fear of them, the term 'dog' strikes no revulsion or fear.

NOT a wolf

Rats have been domesticated as pets for hundreds of years and in fact they were pets first.  Rat baiters caught rats to throw into pits for terriers to pull apart.  It was a horrible, insane, grisly sport, but in the process the baiters noticed that the rats who had either white or fawn markings were tamer, had milder temperments, and were easier to handle.  Somewhere along the line someone began to breed them and likely one of their children made one into a pet.  It was because of this amiability of temperment and the similarity of rats' diet needs to ours that they became a prime laboratory animal.  This is only a tiny notch up the nasty ladder in my personal system of belief, but in the process of all of this beastliness the good was somehow drawn out by creating the perfect companion pets.

Domestic rats are like small dogs in loyalty, love, train-ability, intelligence, and companionship.  They clean themselves constantly as do cats, and they are cheerfully sweet, showing the capability for humor.  It takes very little time to convert a pet rat hater into a fan.

How sweet is this?

Their biggest drawback is that name.  RATSSSSSSSSSSS conjures up visions of plague, garbage, sewers, poverty, slums, and filth.  

Of late, fans of the pet have taken to calling them 'ratties' to differentiate them from wild rats.  This does not fool the ratophobe however, or the rodent-averse.  They need a new name, a new designation that encompasses their loveable qualities and their cuteness.


My friend Matt came up with the perfect moniker last night.  We were playing with Raoul and Mortimer and  Matt commented on how more people should get to know them and thus learn how wonderful these little animals are.  I climbed on my usual soapbox about the need for a new name.  With nary a blink Matt said:

" Adoramites"

It resonated.  It made sense.  They are wee mites of pets and they are totally adorable.  I've begun to spread the word and shall from here on in, refer to my pet of choice as adoramites.


My own particular adoramites are waiting for me to go and get them for some quality tummy tickling and ear scritching, and as their willing slave I shall do just that.  You really should be checking into these pets.  Get some books and do some googling.  Write into the forums and use the term 'adoramite' and get it around.  Within two years it will change the perception of these small critters from 'ewwwwwwwww' to 'awwwwwwwwww'.

Greg's adoramite Rosie.  Awwwwwwww!

Go Ahead. Prove Me Wrong!

 Everything in the world is either a banana, or it is NOT a banana.

This one is from many, many moons ago when I was first introduced to the study of logic in a first year uni philosophy class.  It was the first time that I understood that education wasn't to teach one facts, 'ology's or 'ism's, but that it was to teach us how to think.  I learned thinking wasn't just whatever random zots passed through my brain, but that thinking as a discipline required some training in the methodology of logical progression, argument, and construction.


I also learned over the years that you cannot use logic when dealing with irrational people, non-thinkers, emoters, or people who use the verb 'to feel' as a synonym of 'to think'.  

" I feel that the fixed link bridge to the mainland will cause great hardship to the lesser -striped dung beetle."

Do you 'feel' that this is so?  Or, do you, as a result of reading documentation, factual reports, and scientific journals, THINK that this is so?  If this is what you feel then I am not in the slightest bit interested, heretical though this may be in this age of touchy-feely.  If you have actually thought it through (and are not just gushing forth with a sound-byte from a television interview) then I am happy to hear you out and if what you say has merit, I will adjust my own thinking accordingly.  See the difference?

Let's go back to that banana.  I have introduced this many times as a topic of argument, and been amused at how many people just 'feel' that this is incorrect although there is no way to argue it successfully.  

" But what if it's a chair? "

" Then it isn't a banana is it? "

" Okay but if it's a plantain, it is pretty much a banana. "

" Yet it is NOT a banana."

" Okay, what about if it is in a fruit bowl?"

" Then it is a banana in a bowl of fruit.  You are a moron."

It is simple, elegant, beautiful, and obvious, therefore emoters and feelers really hate it.

Do I have feelings?  You bet I do.  However, those 'feelings' should not colour or bias my logical thought processes, but only my emotional processes.  I can have feelings about the results of logical thought though.

We're next !

After giving it some hard thought I have come to the conclusion that western civilization because of its addiction to hedonistic pleasure, lack of personal responsibility, uncaring taking of innocent life, and relentless drive to accumulate more and more stuff, is going to implode and collapse like all of the mighty empires of history.

This makes me feel quite depressed indeed. I think I had better go and get some ice cream.

The Animals That Live in Our Hearts , Pt 1

There are a few creatures of the last fifteen years or so that have shared life and space with us and who still stay with us in spite of their physical absence.

First, there is Margaret aka 'The Moo', or ' The Mudskipper', who came into our lives through a series of incidents all designed to drive us crazy.  It is a long and sordid story, but the upshot is that we wound up with a little brown dog who had been found rummaging for trash in a fairground.  She wasn't expected to live, but live she did, and she was our treasure.  The Moo was a neurotic with easily pushed buttons but we loved her to pieces, and she loved us beyond all reason.  She would drop everything including food to get hugged and stroked.  Margaret was a love sponge and we did our best to keep her nicely drenched in it.  


The day she died as a result of kidney failure, was so hard that even now I have trouble looking squarely at it.  Every sadness for the twenty prior years came to head in that particular moment of her passing and I grieved to the bottom of my soul.  Margaret wasn't a just a dog.  Margaret was family that we loved and the hole she left will never be filled.

Margaret's last photo.

Post - Federal Election

I don't have much to say about it all except this.  

The mainstream media in Canada worked extremely hard to skew the voters away from the Conservative Party.  They were quite blatant and obvious about it.  They failed and now after two Conservative minority governments that were hamstrung by opposition, (so how anyone could possibly refer to Mr. Harper as a 'dictator' is beyond me), we have a MAJORITY Conservative government.

I guess the CBC, CTV, City, and Global aren't quite as relevant as they think they are. People don't spend as much time in front of the television or with a paper as once they did.  The new media of the Internet has made independent opinions and thought available to be studied.  Rather than the pundit herders cattle-prodding us into the voting booths ready to do their bidding, we can now move about the Internet, find opposing points of view, read documentation, then make up our own minds.

I expect the old media will soon try to introduce nude news to get some ratings and  hypnotize us into doing their will !  It will never work on me though.  Unless the nude in question is an other-than-human animal, I'm way too prudish to watch. 

Dictionary Definitions of Adorable

Raoul the Intrepid

Mortimer the Magnificent

The little boys are growing so quickly.    They still have their baby fur but now have lovely little round tummies, and they are very tame.  I change up the cage for them every few days, and have something different for them for free time every night.  This keeps them interested and their brains busy.


The socialization of these two has gone very quickly.  They are responding to our voices and have developed a keen love of massage!  They take after me I guess.  To have these two in my lap while reading or watching a movie is so nice.  They wake from their naps and explore a bit, then smooch my fingers, yawn, and tuck in for another snooze.

Their exercise sessions last week involved a laundry basket filled with a driftwood branch, boxes, strips of paper, old socks, and a few treats tucked here and there.  They had a blast digging through it all and chasing each other through the paper to get to the treats.


Raoul's method is to grab and stuff.  Mortimer gets his treat then scampers away to a corner, turns his back on his brother, then has a leisurely snack.  Mortimer is a dainty eater.  They had their first taste of frozen peas a few days ago and true to form, Raoul just sat right down and gorged.  Mort turned his pea around and around in his little hands, and peeled off the entire skin!  Then he ate the meat of the pea.  I swear he lifted his pinkies!  He has to be careful of Raoul because after Rao finishes his snack he tries to 'share' Mort's.  I use 'share' in the sense of ' take away from'.

It is really interesting to watch their brotherly dynamic.  The early evening wrestling matches are the best.  They put on quite a show with play squeaking, running, tumbling, pinning each other to the mat, and so forth.  It can go on for half an hour and is easily the best entertainment to be had during the news/game show portions of the evening!


I fail to understand why television producers haven't picked up on this.  A few shows featuring tame ratties would be a great improvement on the usual fare.  I'm not talking the "Hammy Hamster" type of program either.  I mean real ratties interacting and doing their thing.  Youtube has lots of great footage of people's pet rats doing agility, playing basketball, bowling, interacting with other animals and getting loved by their people.  Some slick production values and writing could turn out some winners I am certain.


I have whiled away a lot of happy moments watching.  Advertisers should be taking note.