As Terry and I walked along the river, on the Quebec side, we noticed several practical signs...
Normally we are told to keep 2 meters apart when walking outdoors without masks... But how far is that?!
Two umbrella lengths...
Or - if you happen to have your kite along, to fly in the wind...
Think 2 kite lengths!
That will be about right!
Yesterday I wrote about Eudemonology - the study of happiness...
We all want to be happy... but it’s a balancing act, especially if what makes ME happy is playing tug-of-war with what makes someone else happy...
I think of my university years - especially the years I lived in Jerusalem. What I wanted to do played tug-of-war with what my parents (especially my mother) wanted me to do. But I knew, instinctively, intuitively, that I really NEEDED TO BREAK FREE!
I don’t think that was selfishness. I think it was cutting the apron strings... growing up - a normal phase of life.
Another kind of happiness-seeking can be summed up in something I read recently:
“I’m not happy BEFORE I eat the cookie... I’m not happy AFTER I eat the cookie. But I’m very happy WHILE I’m eating the cookie...”
Every dieter knows what I’m talking about!
So the question remains: should I eat the cookie? (Whatever that cookie happens to be...)
Sometimes wisdom and discernment are required... as well as self-control!
Most of us, I think, look for ways to be happy... But I was surprised to discover that HAPPINESS is a psychology course taught at Yale University, under the name of “Eudemonology”...
The first time it was offered, the class drew so many students that it had to be held in a campus concert hall!
I discovered all this in a podcast my daughter recommended.
Without going into detail... (You can listen to the podcast if you’re interested...) I’ll just say it’s surprising that that happiness isn’t found in most of the things we think will make us happy...
A tip I picked up: It’s important to pay attention to those moments when we feel happy and satisfied... (The word “mindful” comes up a lot.)
What made us happy? What made us unhappy? Follow the clues...
I already realize that a heavy dose of world news unsettles me a lot. Maybe I need to go back to NOT watching or reading the news! Walks by the water - river, ocean or lake - fill me with peace. Maybe I shouldn’t view them as occasional luxuries... Maybe I need to - mindfully and consciously - make them part of my every day.
I purchased 13 balls of yarn in Paris, Ontario at the Mary Maxim store in spring - and used 10 to make the top red sweater in the picture below.
Would the leftover 3 skeins be enough to make a sleeveless vest? I decided to go ahead and start. If I didn’t have enough red yarn, I could add a stripe or two in a contrasting color. I knew I could find the same brand of yarn in Ottawa, but it would no doubt be a different dye lot - a slightly different shade of colour - which could spoil the look of the vest.
Lying on the bed with the sweater, this is how the vest looked a few days ago…
The time had come to think about getting more yarn… The one skein I had left would likely not be enough.
I brought the sweater to a neighborhood yarn store. I also brought the yarn label so that I could check the dye lot number if I found the same shade of red.
Dye lot numbers are very important when buying yarn. When yarn is dyed, every skein created from the same vat of dye has the same “dye lot” number. Different dye lots can have slight differences in color that are noticeable enough to spoil the look of a garment.
Imagine my amazement when I checked the yarn labels in the store and discovered that the red Patons tweed (in an Ottawa wool shop called Wool-Tyme) had exactly the same dye lot number as the yarn I had purchased in the Mary Maxim store store 500 kilometres away!
What are the chances?!
Of course, I immediately bought the skein… I couldn’t believe my good luck!
My son who lives in Ottawa loves to watch football with his dad. Recently he emailed me this picture of our living room.
Last year... watching football with dad... What’s different? he wrote.
I don’t know, I responded. Is your team beating his?
No, he quickly shot back. Last year when we watched football together, I didn’t sit in the living room with dad. I sat out in the hall.
Right! Before we were all vaccinated, he wore a mask in the house and kept a distance from us...
Wow! How quickly I forgot!
We haven’t been there in a while...
But recently we decided to go back.
The first thing we noticed was that - not only boats, but planes - possibly from the nearby Aviation Museum - were taking advantage of the lovely weather. We saw some fighter jets, then a by-plane fly past.
So many motor boats were out in the water. (Unlike the sailboats we often see at Andrew Haydon Park.)
As we walked up and down the sidewalk - stopping at viewpoints along the way - I realized anew that summer is too short!
Nobody wants to waste a minute of a lovely summer’s day.
A few mornings ago, through the open window, Terry heard the whooshing sound of a hot air balloon going higher.
We don’t see as many hot air balloons in the sky over our house as we used to, so I went out to check.
It was over the soccer field next door.
On occasion a balloon used to land in the college parking lot.
I wonder if this one is looking for a place to land.
Hot air balloons are carried by the wind but the current blows in different directions at different elevations, so there is some direction control. Pilots do, however, try to stay near parks and fields - places where they can land.
Once my youngest son and I saw one land on a flat shopping centre roof. I’m sure that wasn’t the pilot’s first choice!
I’ve been up in a hot air balloon three times... Twice with Terry and once with my daughter. Then I sort of lost my nerve...
It’s magical - floating slowly above quiet streets and fields in the early morning or late afternoon: A beautiful aerial view one rarely sees otherwise.
There were always five people in the basket when we had a ride: the pilot and four passengers. I can’t see how many are in this basket.
I wonder if they’re looking for a place to come down. A small truck follows them, with helpers to fold and pick up the deflated balloon and basket once they’re down. The ideal spot is a field - with no power lines - where a truck can easily drive up close to pick up the balloon and basket.
A hot air balloon ride is an exhilarating way to start one’s day!
On a recent walk along the nearby college berms, I noticed acorns on the ground.
I hadn’t noticed the oak trees planted here!
I picked up a twig - with leaves and acorns attached - and brought it home.
If I leave this twig lying around in the yard, maybe the squirrels will plant an oak tree. We have lots of trees sprouting up all over the yard, but we don’t have a nice solid oak!
Sailboats, geese and ducks were heading home for the night.
Suddenly the sound of music filled the air… a five-piece brass band playing Beatles tunes was practicing in the band shell… What a treat!
I had come to walk - so I kept walking, enjoying the evening skies!
I had heard about a salty cheese that is eaten warm, fried or grilled… Haloumi cheese. But I’d never eaten it.
I decided to give it a try. As per my daughter’s instructions, I sliced it, then fried it with a little olive oil until it browned. Then I added it to my salad... Delicious!
How does that happen - that it browns but doesn’t melt? I asked my daughter.
I don’t know, she replied. Ask Google!
When I googled Haloumi cheese, I discovered that its origins are in Cyprus - and, in fact, the name “Haloumi” is protected: cheeses can only be called “Haloumi” if given permission by government authorities in Cyprus.
The reason why it doesn’t melt when fried may have to do with the amount of rennet (enzymes used to make cheese) that this cheese contains. Most often Haloumi cheese is made with milk from sheep and goats.
So glad I gave it a try! A delicious protein to add to a simple summer salad. Surprisingly filling as well!
Last June I purchased yarn for a sweater at the Mary Maxim store in Paris, Ontario. At the time, I didn’t have a pattern with me, so I wasn't sure how much to get.
Since the yarn was greatly reduced in price, I decided to get MORE than I needed, rather than LESS.
When I finished the sweater, I had three and a half balls remaining.
What to do with the leftover yarn? Make a vest, perhaps?
Same basic pattern (knit top down) with “cap” sleeves.
A pullover… No collar… Also not as long...
I’ve been working on it. The cap sleeves are done and I’m moving down the bodice, knitting in the round. I currently have a ball and a half of yarn left...
Two big questions now loom in my mind:
The first sign in our neighborhood that college classes have resumed in September, used to be parking congestion on neighborhood streets...
But since in-person learning has been limited, due to COVID, parking problems have disappeared.
Last year was not a normal year at the college. Only a few classes, like cooking classes, were held there. Most were held remotely, with students studying at home. I’m not sure what this year holds.
But a week ago, the college celebrated back to classes with a fireworks display that brought neighbors out of their houses. Our street, apparently, was packed.
The first boom had Terry up on his feet!
I, however, missed the entire show! I had gone to bed early - and didn’t hear a thing!
These pictures were taken by Mary’s daughter, Kim, who was one of the neighborhood spectators enjoying the show!
The last house my parents lived in, before downsizing into a condo, had a large back porch - uninsulated - with large windows.
Looking for a photo of the porch, I could only find this picture of the front yard.
In that porch stood a large weaving loom on which my mother wove rustic tablecloths and tea-towels.
Whenever I went home for a visit, I’d play around on the loom. I wove a few simple things - the most useful of which is this striped table runner.
I’ve used it a lot over the years - and it invariably reminds me of the fun I had sitting and weaving it in my mother’s back porch.
On birthdays and anniversaries it’s fun to remember …
… the way we were then…
And how our life has changed over the years.
And it’s changing still!
This amazing cycle all began on September 17, 1977!
Today is my Uncle Erhardt’s birthday. My mother’s older brother was the firstborn of Olga (Sell) Guhl and Theodore Guhl, my mother’s parents.
This is the only picture we have of of his father (my grandfather), who died when Erhardt was seven.
Erhardt was born in the Ukraine in 1914, the year World War I started. Not long afterwards, the family was sent to Siberia for the duration of the war. Erhardt’s sister Lydia, the young girl on the left, was born while they were living in Siberia. My mother, next to Lydia, was born after the family returned to the Ukraine. The youngest child is Theodore, the first child of Olga and Hugo, Olga’s second husband.
This family picture was taken either in Europe in 1928 or in Canada in 1929. By this time his father had died and his mother was remarried - to her first husband’s cousin, who came to help her on the family farm. The family arrived in Canada in December, 1928. Erhardt, aged 14, is on the right.
He was a big help to the family, leaving school at an early age to help support the family during those hard economic times.
And here he is on his 95th birthday. He lived to be 98, greatly beloved by all his family.
Today is the birthday of one of my favourite aunts, who lived well into her 90s.
Here she is with her husband, my mother’s older brother.
I was the flower girl at their wedding in 1950, a few months after my brother was born... a detail she remembered fondly.
She was born in 1922 in Poland, and later became a refugee of World War II. She once related the story of how they had to flee their family farm.
She ended up living in Edmonton near my mother’s family - where she met and married my mother’s brother, Erhardt - whose birthday is tomorrow!
They went on to have three children.
She was the matriarch of a loving, hospitable family. Their home was the family gathering place after my grandmother died. Their house was the first one we headed to whenever we visited Edmonton - the family meeting place. It felt like “home.” I have so many great memories of spending time there with her and my mother’s relatives whenever we returned.
Our grandson was recently a guest at an outdoor beach wedding...
He made the most of it... by meeting new friends...
