Apartment Pix (ii): Studies in Blue

In today’s post, we present the bathroom and the dining room.

From the bathroom doorway, you can see two sets of bifold doors. The first hides the washer and dryer; the second hides a huge closet. Note the shell pattern on the shower curtain.

This dragon hook was left behind by a previous tenant. Above it is a skylight.

The dining room and kitchen make an L. This is the view from the kitchen; the window is off to the left.

On the righthand wall, an old dresser gets a new life: glasses and cups are stored on the shelf, placemats and napkins and tablecloths and silverware in the drawers.

On the weekend, we found a willow someone had cut down, so we took a few sprigs home.

This building was built within five years after the Great Fire of 1877, so it has coal fireplaces, which are smaller than ones made for burning wood. Nevertheless, I thought our larger roasting pan was just the thing to decorate the spot. I appreciate beauty with a purpose.

Next: the living room (and maybe the foyer) .

Apartment Pix (i)

Hey there, good blogbuddies!

It’s been a busy week. The outbound tenant at our new place didn’t move till the morning of the 1st. We moved in during the afternoon. By happenstance, the same moving company had been hired by both of us, so they were able to coordinate things. 

The other complication was with the property management workers, who had been denied access for an inspection and headstart at the cleaning, repainting, and floor polishing. They arrived at 08 30 on the 1st, and worked for two solid days to get the place ship-shape.

Luckily, all of our possessions fit into one room.

This is the view through the baker’s rack into the bedroom. The movers put everything into the painted-that-morning living room, and then when the bedroom was finished, we moved all the stuff into it so the living room floor could be polished. As you can see by the intarsia raccoon, I had already opened a box or two before piling the rest of the stuff in there . (There are several spikes permanently mortared into each brick wall.) Meanwhile,

Virginia scrubbed the stove and fridge, gathered the garbage, and washed and polished the floors (sorry about the photo, I’ve no idea why it turned itself sideways);

Les and Chris installed new kitchen flooring and countertop;

and Don painted the walls and hooked up the washer.

This team has been working together for years, get along wonderfully, and show pride in their work. I’ve separated tasks by name, but I think there was a good deal of overlap, each worker helping the others; plus I was trying to stay out of their way, and so my descriptions may well be inaccurate. I was quite content to sit in one room, opening a carton or dozing off over a to-do list, listening to the casual banter coming from the rest of the apartment, and humming along to the 70s hits issuing from the radio station on Don’s boombox. Those first two days of chaos were, in fact, quite a happy transition.

Still to come this week: various views of the completed areas, a look out the windows, and — special for Goodbear — a secret room.

Now to tackle the remaining mess, that of the computer/craft/spare bedroom. Eeek…

See you tomorrow!

   

How to Pick Up Poopies in a Wintry Saint John Yard

All photos below were taken by E.g. and cropped by Turtle.

Two days ago, on March 29, it was actually raining in Saint John, but when we got here on the 20th it was still solidly, stolidly winter. While Fergus and Cai were light enough to run around on top of the snow in E.g.’s parents’ backyard, a human step would sink up to the knee. How to pick up after the pupsters, then? Alyson?

That’s right: snowshoes!

One small step on yuccakind…

Snowshoes are a First Nations invention. They were originally made of wood and rawhide. The ones here are aluminum and nylon, with canvascloth bindings. No specialized boots are necessary; just slip the toe of your regular ol’ winter boot into the canvas toehold and wrap the strap around your ankle, then slip the strap through the metal clip.

Getting a grip

Their large size distributes a person’s weight to prevent sinking into the snow. One needn’t be heavy to founder, by the way; one simply needs pointy legs. After the rain softened the snow the other day, Cuca the cat snuck outside, only to sink up to his shoulders in the backyard. Differing temperatures and successive thaws and refreezes make for many different textures of snow. On the day these photos were taken, there was a thin crust that upheld the dogs but wasn’t thick enough for me. Snowshoes work on crusty snow as well as they do in deep powder.

The webbing keeps snow from accumulating and weighing down the snowshoe. It also, I think, helps to prevent slipping backwards on slopes. I’m crouching in the second picture above only because the drift is so high; the shoes stayed steady.

Coureur de bois cancan

The third picture displays gratuitous lifting; E.g. wanted a show-off picture. It does demonstrate, however, that I could make my way through the underbrush fairly efficiently, if I needed to step over low tangles of bush and branch.

Le petit prince

As with cross-country skis, the heel is not fixed. You walk normally — you don’t even need poles! — and can crouch to capture those elusive canine poopies. Shh now. Ready, set…

All the better to wait on you, my dears.

Ta da!

PIKCHERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello evrybuddy this is Tertul the Saint Johner! I am so ekseyeted to hav a fyoo fotos for yoo finully that I’m speling like Dennis the Vizsla Dog! Ennyway hear r three pikchers for yoo two enjoy.

E.g.’s dada yoosed to hav a fens around his vejjett– his vedje– his tomayto plants, for yeersnyeers. It wuz yoozed to keep owt deer. This winter wuz very hard on the fens and haff uv it fell down!

Ennyway the snow is so hi the fens can’t keep owt a Cardi rite now, let aloan a deer!

Its so mutch fun to wotch the dogs play in the bakkyard! Maybee in a cuppla yeers we’ll hav wun, too.

On a Train to Somewhere (journal entry, part iii)

This has been my day so far, up to mid-afternoon on the 19th.

After my morning shower, I boiled some water in the left-behind electric kettle to reconstitute the spoonful of instant coffee I’d placed in the glass “mason jar” mug before giving away the rest of the coffee to the neighbours. On the two remaining pages of a punched-hole notepad, I wrote a note to Gwen and attached the apartment and mailbox keys by their ring through the top hole. The note mentioned such things as the four houseplants and the basketful of partially-used cleaning products.

At a quarter to nine, three bags of garbage lay waiting by the front door: the two dollar-store pillows, the grungey old shower curtain and ragged old towel, and the scrap-heap set of clothing I had reserved for this final week. Harnessing, collaring, and leashing Fergus and Cai, I locked the front door for the final time. Upstairs I went, dogs, garbage, and all.

Leaving the garbage momentarily by the elevator, I took the boys down the hallway and knocked on Gwen’s door. Three times. I knew she was in because her screen door was locked. when she and little Chilton finally answered,  Chilton yapped perfunctorily at his canine visitors while Gwen and I exchanged encouraging words and hugs. She gave me a grocery bag for the overflow from my bursting bookbag. I handed her the note and the keys.

As the dogs and I headed back to the elevator, I saw Jock coming along the corridor on his way to speak to Gwen, a puzzled frown on his face, a rolled envelope in his hands.

“G’morning, Jock! Did you get a message in a bottle?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed in relief. “Thank you! Thank you very much!” and he patted my shoulder.

09 00. The garbage had found its spot in the dumpster, and Cai and Fergus and I were away for a leisurely 90-minute walk before train time. I stopped to withdraw some cash at the automatic teller on the corner of Church and Wellesley, the hub of the gaybourhood, the place where E.g. and I had first come to feel safe and welcome nearly ten years ago. We had done a lot of growing here.

At the train station, I popped the boys into their crates, filled their water bottles, and wandered off to get a raspberry muffin for breakfast. Half an hour later, I boarded the Toronto-Montreal train, where I sit writing these words longhand. The car is nearly full; I am in a four-seat “reserved” space (i.e. one pair of seats faces the other) with two quiet, geeky guys engaged with either Google or Gogol. Across the aisle in the other four-seat set are three teenage girls discussing last night’s Britney Spears concert.

It’s 15 00. Just under two hours ago, I awoke in my seat, remembering that I no longer live in Toronto. Just over two hours from now, I’ll be meeting my son in Montreal where we’ll give the dogs a half-hour break before climbing aboard the Ocean train. Sonny Boy and I have booked a space on a sleeper car, and are looking forward to this new adventure.

Now it remains to be seen whether Turtle will post pics of the sleeper car before or after you’ve read the entirety of this long, long entry.

Note: Sonny Boy and I did take a few photos with his camera, but forgot to download them before he left for home again. As you may have inferred, it’s been a scrambled week computer-wise.

On a Train to Somewhere (journal entry, part ii)

Hi, people! Here is part two of three of my penned blather of April 19th. I promise to have a tutorial with E.g. this weekend, about getting photos posted once again.

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There were a few loose ends still to tie up after the pub supper, the evening before my departure.

20 15. I took out the blue plastic popcorn bowl and set some edibles in it: four red potatoes, half a head of garlic, three lemons, most of a jar of instant-coffee-with-chicory, most of a 500-gram bag of large-grain sea salt, a stick of real butter, six hard-boiled eggs, and two raw ones. These were the last of the still-usable commestibles in my apartment. Upstairs I went to bid my adieux to Coco’s daddies, Brad and Mitchell.

“Saint Paddy has decided you’ve been good little boys this year,” I joked, handing them the bowl, and showing them the penciled Xes on the boiled eggs. Brad and Mitchell, in turn, offered me food for the journey: a triple sampler-pack of high-end kibble that they’d picked up at the Menagerie. They buy the samples to use as treats for Coco. I was grateful, because the amount of kibble left for Cai and Fergus was, in fact, a bit on the scant side. I hadn’t mentioned this to Coco’s daddies, though; their offering was a surprise blessing.

21 00. Back in the apartment, I pulled out all the empty wine and beer bottles — currently worth 20 cents apiece — and set them in my smallest laundry basket. They fit snugly, not overcrowded but not rattly either: good! Upstairs I went to the apartment of Jock, an affable old gentleman who goes out each day to tidy the environment and make some pocket change.

From the neck of one of the bottles, like a Don Valley Brick Works smokestack, emerged a tightly-rolled envelope (the last piece of loose paper I had on hand) with “FOR JOCK” written vertically. Depositing the basket beside his door, I crept back downstairs.

21 30. One last trip outdoors with the dogs for the night, then we all curled up together on the sofabed. Big day tomorrow.

Plunge of the Turtle

Will resurface soon.

Pots and Pans and Winter Coats

Turtle is getting creative in her packing.

Yes, a couple of winter jackets are mixed in with the set of nested pots — helps keep the lids from rattling.

The “kitchen implements” include a rubber mallet, needlenose pliers, and two sets of allen keys.

The cat kibble container is hiding a collander, a large mixing bowl, and a beach towel.

My favourite, though, is the dog kibble container: dog toys, the rice cooker with a café au lait bowl nested inside it, a couple of spring jackets, my pair of high rubber boots, a coffee cup, and the cast iron duckie doorstop.

Soon this will all be over. Then we get to unpack.

Steady As She Goes

With our new apartment rented for the first of April, we’re stepping up the final preparations for moving. Every time I turn around this week, I think of something else that I mustn’t forget. Mustn’t forget to wash the coats. Mustn’t forget to contact the phone company. Mustn’t forget to buy a mattress bag. Et cetera.

Last night then, I made a list of all those swirly imperatives, about 14 or 20 items. The dogs have been awake all day so far, watching me tackle the various tasks. It’s tricky. Because some items depend on the accomplishment of other items, a lot of chores get started and then have to wait for other jobs to catch up.

It is now a quarter to two in the afternoon on this busy day. I’ve accomplished one and-a-half tasks.

Guinea Pigs

http://make-bread.blogspot.com/2007/07/youtube-video-easy-bread.html
Sorry, people, I wanted a nice Youtube video at the top of this post, but couldn’t remember how to insert it. Since the “Easy Bread” video is on Jim Mortenson’s blog, however, I figgered promoting a fellow blogger’s blog was the proper thing to do.

Today I’d like to tell you about three recent experiments. The first two are in the spirit of using up pantry ingredients, and the third is a preparation for getting the furchildren to Saint John.

1. Easy Bread

What intrigued me with the “Easy Bread” recipe was the puny amount of yeast it requires: only a quarter-teaspoon! In order to make a little yeast go a long way, however, the dough needs to rise overnight (a similar video suggests 12 hours) .

I followed the recipe exactly, except for the part where you’re to put a pan of water in the bottom of the oven. Because Jim’s oven is gas and mine is electric, I wondered how well the instructions of 10 minutes each at 500, 450 and 350 degrees would work. I wondered even more that the bread dough was lower than the rim of the pie plate when it went into the oven.

In ten minutes, however, the round loaf had puffed up like a package of Jiffy Pop. The bread came out properly cooked after the allotted time.

The crust would have been nicer had the pan of water been in the oven. And the inside looked like an English muffin, with cells the size of my thumb; not sure why. It tasted fine, though.

2. Fudge

“Fudge” should have been a sweet, but it turned out to be an oath. I followed the recipe, used the candy thermometer, and strictly adhered to the commandment NOT to beat the fudge until it had cooled to room temperature. When I took the wooden spoon to it, it fell apart into cocoa powder and dry marble-sized lumps — which is pretty strange, considering I used baker’s chocolate and not cocoa. Am considering using it to make hot chocolate; not yet sure how to sell E.g. on the drink’s added-value raisins.

3. Rehydrated Guinea Pigs

When E.g. and I were working out the logistics of our long-distance move, I suggested that she should drive down with the breakables and Cuca, while I would take the train with the dogs. That way, we’d be assured of the least damage to the most important things. She agreed.

This week, I contacted the train station for more information regarding Fergus and Cai. One of the things the baggage people recommended was that I take a couple of plastic margarine tubs, fill them with water, and freeze them overnight. That way the dogs wouldn’t spill their water, and it would last for hours. Great idea! I immediately set two small food containers in the freezer, eager to test the procedure.

The next morning, I presented the Cardis with the frozen water dishes. Well! This turned out to be the greatest treat they’d had in ages. In five minutes, Fergus had his ice flipped outside its container; in ten minutes, all the plastic tabs had been chewed off; and in twenty minutes, half of the ice in each of the two-cup containers was licked away.

Hmmm.

Out I went to the pet store, and returned with a twelve-ounce rodent bottle-feeder. Sitting on a stool, I licked the tube, and then invited the boys to try. It was a hit! The feeder is made of indestructible glass and metal, and fits perfectly on the inside of a crate door. So out I went to buy a second one for the other crate.

Just glad I didn’t have to show them how to eat liver biscuits.