A Poultry Life…

My family and I are part of a growing trend. We have backyard chickens. It all started as a good idea last spring as we took part in Rossland’s 2^nd annual ‘Chicken Crawl’. At every house along the Walk chicken owners professed how easy and inexpensive constructing coops and runs with found goods could be. They all built their structures in a weekend. The Poppets really dug the hens and I was surprised just how much Mike seemed to like the idea as well.

Then a girlfriend called with actual chicks to give and suddenly there was a very real deadline looming in front of us. We began to gather ‘inexpensive found material’. Insert reality check #1 here. Not cheap. Even with a free metal roof and free siding.

We had ourselves a good old-fashioned Amish style barn building. Check #2 - it took more way more than a weekend to finish. Family came in from Ontario one week. We sent them out to the yard and didn’t let them in till the ground was cleared, foundation level, run framed in and a roof went up. Jack’s God Parents visited the next week and together we stained, sided, and put up the hardware cloth. It really looked like a real chicken coop now! In fact so much so, that we had never seen a raccoon in our yard before and that night two came to inspect the coop that now resembled a coop! Smart little buggars. The bandits found it empty though as chicks were still inside our house. Whew!

Then there was Velma. Who quickly decided, despite her Terrier-ness, she was the mamma. Thank goodness, I thought for sure she was going to eat the little yellow fluff balls.

Last, but not least, Mike’s dad dropped by and gave the coop a once over…and a few more cross supports. Then it was time for the chick–e–boos to move on in!

They love their coop! All it needs is a chandelier  :)

Teevee or Not Teevee ...Netflix and Cable

Ughhhhh... so Netflix turned out to be a bust. Boo. Terrible selection at a great price. In Canada at least. And then there was that threatened bandwidth cap. Good gravy. If the selection improves on Netflix though, I am not entirely opposed to give it another go.

When our little family moved to Rossland last summer we made the big decision to get rid of our cable . It was only at the time the choice seemed so monumental. In retrospect it hasn't really been missed, really everything that we would watch on cable is available online. Even CBC Kids.

We ended up getting cable back though, so that we might host our annual Oscar Party. This Deal-with-the-Devil includes a 3 month promotion and HD channels at a low, low price. Which ends up still being ridiculously expensive. Ridiculously expensive. I thought, "man, it will be H to the ARD prying the PVR from my daily life schedule once again.". However, I find myself checking the calendar regularly to see if our cable promotion is over yet so we can get rid of it. I am frugal not stupid.

Shocking, I know. I never thought I would prefer a life sans television, but I do. I am amazed at how quickly it has turned the poppets into tiny marketing machines. Isla, who has never been to, or even seen, a Red Lobster, now professes her undying love for the company. Egads. Jack begs for all manner of toys and is quickly developing an unhealthy perspective about germs.

Just the other day I caught myself singing the five dollar footlong jingle.  Isla shouts "skunk" whenever someone farts. Classy. Incorporating as always, and this might have been the straw that broke the cable's back, Isla called me a "five-dollar-skunk". A tidy, albeit unfortunate, amalgamation of pop culture.

The love affair is over.

Homage Monday - Nicole Maas

Nickie is a certain kinda someone - like a legend. She works and plays fields traditionally dominated by men and, well, dominates :) She is pretty awesome! Usually I will use selected portions of what an artist sends for this article but with Nickie there is sooooo much and it is all soooo good! Inside industry information, espionage, babies, passion...it's all here for the reading, thanks Nickie:

Ok, so... bio. Present to past? Past to present?

Past to present...

 I slogged away in design school at Emily Carr for 5 years and graduated from the Graphic Design dept. Took a co-op role with Electronic Arts in 1996 and fell in love with the video game industry. After a year at EA I went back to Emily Carr and finished my program in 1997, and then took at job at Radical Entertainment. Worked as the studio front end (interface design) lead for 3 years and left in 2000 to delve into the up and coming world of web design in Austin, TX. In 2001 the dot com crash hit hard and I found myself pining away for games again. Headed back to Vancouver and fell back into a spot as the interface design lead for NHL on the PC. Worked on the NHL franchise from 2002 to 2006 before moving over to work on a little known console called the Nintendo Revolution. The Revolution is now commonly know as the Wii and I helped to create Madden 07, a launch title for the Wii. It was the number three rated Wii game that year.

During Madden Wii I was hungry to move into art direction, territory previously un-touched by interface designers within EA. I worked my way through the position of Art Lead (which was overseeing and directing all aspects of game art; concept, animation, environments, characters, effects and front end) for a couple of Nintendo DS titles, and got a shot at art directing a short-cycle title called FIFA Street 3 for the Nintendo DS. After FS3 I led Celebrity Sports Showdown for the Wii, which was a fantastic but little known title that fell victim to poor timing and no marketing dollars for launch, so we found ourselves prey to the dust bunnies on the bottom shelves of the game stores :( . Coincidentally Nintendo - who gets a behind the scenes look at all the Wii games in production across the globe - came out with a game called Wii Sports Resort which was virtually identical to our game, but much better marketed and featured the Nintendo Miis (instead of obscure celebrities like Keith Urban and Kristy Yamaguchi) canoeing and flying little jet planes on an island sports resort. Hmmm... coincidence? Anyway, I left near the end of that title to have my brilliant baby. After a year I came back from mat leave to mixed titles including EA Sports Active and FIFA Online. I'm now currently art directing two undisclosed FIFA titles that will ship in late 2011.

Amidst all that I purchased a small dog daycare business in 2004 which I worked with my husband to turn into Pup Culture Dog Daycare, which he proudly continues to operate.

Over the past 5 years I have worked with my vizsla, Zuzu, in competition obedience and agility as well as tracking, field and conformation. This past summer we competed at the 2010 Canadian National Agility Championships and she recently earned her Master Agility Dog of Canada title. I also have a beagle whom I trial at Masters level in agility. In addition I have been providing obedience training through the daycare in my (ha ha) spare time. I've played Ultimate (frisbee) recreationally and competitively for the past 14 years (US Regionals 2001, World Ultimate Club Championships 2002, Canadian Nationals 2004) and continue to captain and participate in rec leagues to get my weekly cardio. 

I am a mother (now single) who also bakes, draws, reads, writes, cooks, and most of all... LEARNS. I love to be challenged and I'm inspired by passion. Passion for pretty much anything turns my crank. I am addicted to "busy", and I am fired by gorgeous and innovative design.

My role models have been many, but most importantly, my mother who always said "Only boring people are bored." and taught me that we are responsible for our own happiness, and when we feel our spark burning out we need to "do something constructive!" And so, I go, I do, I love, I learn. That's me. :)

Doggy in the Window

The other day my Facebook status read as follows:

ag.gray.gate ‎(Alicia) wishes I didn't wear my slippers outside and step in dookie. In other news... Free: one Velma. I'd say to a good home but we're not picky.

No offers. Not one.

Later that afternoon Jack and Isla were commiserating about their strong desire for a cat. Previous conversations with me about this impending arrival have alluded to the demise of one of the dogs. As in another animal entering our home requires the exit of a current resident beast, either Velma the Griffon or Tobias the Chihuahua.

"But I will be so sad if Velma goes away," says Jack. Then he continues "and Mommy and Daddy will be so sad if Toby dies.".

Burn. It's gonna be a long time till we get that cat.

Somethings Gotta Give...

I have some fantastic news...wait for it...wait for it... I am officially enrolled in the Self-Employment Program here in Rossland (well, Greater Trail I guess)! Now I have kept fairly mum on this whole subject but with this latest development the cat is out of the bag. This is the news we have been waiting for!

Both my husband and myself have long dreamt of owning our own business, we just never knew what that was going to look like. Then just over six months ago, in the few days between putting an offer on a house here in town, but before listing/selling our Vancouver home, we decided to start a brewery in Rossland. Then we packed up our old life in Vancouver and began our new life here.

Here is how the idyllic dream looks: We (me funded through Community Futures and Michael as my unpaid man servant) establish Rossland's first brewery since prohibition put the Le Roi Brewery out of business at the turn of the century. Then we are on our own. We have a smallish store-front, on-site craft-brewing, retail and tasting room on Columbia (Main Street). Our little Company begins to support and sponsor all the fabulous events that the wonderful people of Rossland create, host and attend. Investors come out of the woodwork to throw money at such a fabulous idea enabling us to grow and prosper. We build an entirely green, zero waste, incredibly efficient brewery which truly reflects Rossland and our communal values. We even employ some local farmers to grow our hops which is mutually beneficial. The Brewery garnishes heaps of local support, and because it is easily one of the best beers anyone has tasted word spreads like wildfire and our Brewery becomes a tourist attraction as well. From there it is all up.

Currently I find myself writing, researching and developing a business plan under the tutelage of the Program. Michael is in Vancouver again this week, (hopefully he'll have and audition and book a another part before Christmas!) which means in addition to business planning I am the sole parent here for a week. YAY! Sarcasm, that was sarcasm. Which brings me to the point where I ask your understanding and allegiance. Please bear with me if I miss a day here and there over the next few months, keep coming back - I will not be going anywhere!

Thank you all so much for your love and support, for your readership and comments. Oh, and if you have a half million kicking around, I know just the place for you to invest it :)

Dreaming...

As an actor I volunteered to play the rejection game. I'm sadistic that way I guess. I walk into an audition room full of the knowledge that the people on the other side of the desk have made up their mind before I have even hit my mark. These are my choices and my experiences as an adult, so it is completely different to watch my children experience the rejection of not being chosen.

Stare.ca

I know this is a life lesson and that it will serve a child well in the future. There will be teams Jack and Isla won't make,  or friends who do not want to play with them. She might not get a speaking part in the school play and his poem might not be picked for publication. Then again, they might.

We started making trips to Science World beginning when Jack was just a baby. It really is a great place to wile away a rainy day in Van. The kids love the familiarity of the static exhibits, anticipate things like Lego or Body World coming to town, and always there is the excitement of 'making' things work. My little scientists.

Anyhoo, in the four years we had been going, Jack had never been chosen to be a helper on the Science Stage at a live show. Granted for the first year he was a spitty lump, then I guess he was still pretty little for a while to play with Hydrogen and such - but he didn't know that. Jack always wanted to be picked and every time he was not, he was crest fallen. I tried my best to use these moments as empathetic teaching tools. "Maybe that little girl had never been picked either", "They were using big kids today", "It will be your turn one day, it just wasn't today". But still, baby Jack really had no frame of reference.

Too soon it seemed, our final trip to Science World arrived. In between experiments and tactile experience I tried to impress upon Jack and Isla both that this was our last visit before we moved to Rossland. We went to a Science Show, it was great as always, except that you-know-who never got to go up on stage. Still, we stayed for many hours, and then it was time for the last show of the day.

It was a weekday, so after about 2pm all the school kids had gone. As we sat down, there were maybe 5 or 6 other audience members. Isla was sleeping in her stroller. I had a good feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Jack," I said "I think that you are going to get picked today! Make sure you hold your hand up high." He held his little hand up so high and this wonderful staff member called Jack onto the stage! After what seemed a lifetime of waiting to a little person, he was finally chosen.

I could not have been more proud. Afterward I approached my new favourite staff member and explained Jack's circumstances. He told me I could always come and make a special request, but somehow that would have felt like cheating. Jack had made a wish with his whole heart and that day the lesson he learned was that dreams do come true...and he has the video to prove it!

A Sister Wife

Deliverance shacks

Our new home is nestled in amongst some of the most breathtaking scenery I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. That being said, there are still times when I pass through certain un-incorporated towns here in the Interior where I can't help but hum that little ditty from Deliverance. It is hot, dry, the lawns are spotted with vehicles and in my mind I see hillbillies rocking the day away on the front porch cleaning their Smith&Wesson whilst picking a banjo. I joke that we moved our little family so we might be closer to the cousins...for marrying purposes.

Ainsworth Hotsprings

We had visitors from the Big City the other day. We took them to Ainsworth Hot Springs. Chrissy is a legendary domestic engineer, mother of three and wife to one. She and I often share our husbands when one of them is working and we have plans to play. Well, not "share", but use interchangeably as an additional child chaperon. The Hot Springs was one such occasion. Chrissy's hubby stayed behind in Vancouver to work and Mike had the day off. Yay extra hands!

The Big Love Family

Very much occupied with five floating poppets in the pool our little gaggle did not really notice the stares that we were garnering. Then when we did start to reagard many of the patrons eyeballing our ragtag bunch we assumed it was due to too much splashing. We continued to pass our kids back and forth, parent to parent, taking turns bringing groups of mismatched siblings into the cave and basin with no regard for whose child belonged to whom. Then something occurred to me: Big Love - after all Bountiful is just around the corner. I wondered to myself if we were being gawked at because everyone assumed that we were polygamists.

My Beautiful Sister-Wife

K, so Chrissy and I are always being mistaken for sisters and now I was pretty sure we were being mistaken for sister-wives. Fast forward to the restaurant. More open gawking. I made a multiple-wife crack to Mike. A gentleman actually turned around and said, "I thought you were polygamists from Bountiful". I almost died, and so did my sister-wife. Mike just looked like he thought he was especially awesome. Good times.

With Mike away, the dishes piling up and my patience wearing down I sure could go for a sister-wife right now. I would totally get away with it here. I just want to specify that she be the female equivalent of a eunic and live in the carriage house out back.

Wordless Wednesday - Family Portrait

Times (they are a) Changing

Having kids has significantly altered the "road trip" for me. Aside from additional snacks and potty breaks I am now packing for three. My husband still packs for one - that hasn't changed at all. He often brings his one tiny, half-filled bag to the top of the stairs at the last minute and sets it next to my open, still being filled, melee of a pack job. Seemingly out of pity for my situation he then asks if I need to put anything into his bag. Ughhhhhhhh. Of course, the children's bags are packed, (BY ME!!!) waiting at the door and have been there since last night.

Thanks to Murphy's Law something gets left behind. More often than not it is my something. My shoes, my bathing suit, my mittens, my makeup, my hose, my snack, my gift certificate et cetera. It seems no matter how many lists I make, or how much attention I pay, my efforts are insufficient to get everything into the vehicle without fail one really important item sits at home awaiting my return. Awesomesauce.

Anyhoo we set off to a wedding this past weekend. Prep was particularly harried because Mike was home for roughly five minutes in between trips to Vancouver and the cesspool hot tub needed to be drained and refilled. This has to happen at above freezing temperatures, so we needed to wait till that happened. We had guess-timated the time for refilling and cleaning, but really underestimated the unbelievable amount of time it would take to drain it. Seriously, it took the better part of an hour.

The wedding ceremony was at 4. We were in the truck by 11:30, which would put us in town by 3:00 and we could check-in to the wonderful Cinnamon Bear Lodge, get dressed, figure out what I left behind, and get to the church on time. Fwhew. Then to the party. At least that's the plan.

As I wrestled Isla into her crinoline, straightened my hair and found my shoes it occurred to me that, possibly for the first time in 5 years everything I had meant to pack made it on the trip!  Our picture perfect family rolled up in front of the church (where Mike and I had been married 7 years before!) into rockstar parking. We had 5 minutes to go...wait, why was there still rockstar parking? We pulled the poppets out of the truck. I re-checked the invitation. Right day? Check. Right location? Obvious. Ummm, what the crap was going on?

The church was empty except for one or two women. Seeing our faces they asked where we were going. "A wedding" I answered, then "what time is it?". "5 to 5" came the answer. Wheels began to turn, something familiar began to claw at my brain...then there it was - the time change. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

How could we forget the time change?! I mean, by the time we were on the road it was already too late we had lost that extra hour, but everytime we drive past the Mountain Standard time change sign my husband is forced to point it out like he has Tourette's. But, for whatever reason, it didn't happen this trip and was so far off the radar I don't even know what to say.

I felt like such a heel. Still do. At least there was still the party, and we were right in time for that!

Technical Difficulties...

It is Monday and I am feeling overwhelmed and under-researched. We were away all weekend (in the car mostly) and Mike has gone back to Vancouver to work for the next week and a half.

Not usually one to get a case of the Mondays I am finding this day particularly debilitating thus far. I have one baby to the left and one to the right - both are spewing a constant barrage of verbalization at an unreasonable volume, and being especially demanding... about EVERYTHING. I think they need some concentrated attention.

What I am saying is I will be back tomorrow guns blazing and my wits will be functioning at full capacity, so thanks for stopping by and I hope you'll be back in the morning! For now I have an arse to wipe and it is not mine.

Dummy Fairy

Have you heard of the Dummy Fairy? The Dummy Fairy has been to our house once before, she will soon be visiting us once again. I am gonna go ahead and humble myself right now and confess it is not my fabulous idea but that of the Super Nanny. There I said it - but it is one hell of a notion and I have adopted it fully into my parenting arsenal.

When Jack was almost three our house had a visit from the Dummy Fairy. The Fairy came in the middle of the night (just like her cousin the Tooth Fairy will) and took away his dummy to give to a baby who needed it. In place of his beloved she left a rechargeable night light and a puzzle. That was me - I thought something for the night and something for the day would help a little man out.



Isla will be three this fall. The time is fast approaching for our next visit from the Dummy Fairy. Isla is in her "big girl" bed, she is potty trained (day and night), has slept through the night for forever, and she is already sort of weaned from her dummy. I guess it just comes down to her parents.

For all of the reasons listed above, I am the one having a hard time with the Fairy arriving presently. She is growing so fast, in so many ways but, when she is using her dummy she still makes baby noises.  Those noises stopped as soon as the Fairy came to Jack. Sigh. Her prezzies are even waiting in the closet. I am going to have to suck it up, I know, I know. I think I'll go for a snuggle.

Honestly?!

There is nothing more moving than the glaring honesty of a child. It is not filtered, or manicured, manufactured or checked. It is akin to verbal diarrhea. The brain sends an impulse and the mouth lays it out for all to hear.

A few years ago I was in the grocery store with Jack. When we got to the till I confess I let some air escape, from my behind. The store was very busy (read loud) and in my defence I was probably pregnant. Anyhoo, no one heard. Except for an arse high Jack. With his new found language skills he declared, "Mommy fart. Mommy fart." to the cashier/anyone within earshot, over and over with increasing persistence as I attempted to ignore him and get the heck out of there. Awesome.

When one of my children says to another, "you talk funny" or refers to the neighbour as "the grumpy man who lives next door" I am mortified more often than not. Sometimes it is hard to remember they are not judging, but stating what they perceive to be fact, and I receive the comment coloured by my own experience and/or embarrassment. They are not saying these things to be mean. The neighbour next door looks like a grumpy character from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but also like Santa, so I was able to suggest as much - and as everyone knows Santa is never grumpy. I told them stories about when they mispronounced words because they too were little once and learning. Yet, despite knowing this, it still stings when a two year old makes a comment about my spotty face.

We bring them books, teach them songs, play stacking and sorting games all geared towards differentiation and separation and then we are shocked when they bring their astute observations into the real world. Because you cannot un-ring a bell, and words can hurt, especially when they come out of an innocent face. But we are all different. My children adore being told they are special and unique, so I need to seize the opportunity when they notice that others are different from themselves. To help them acknowledge and appreciate the difference rather than fear and judge. If I wait until they are in the schoolyard it will be too late. Again I am reminded of the steep learning curve that is teaching empathy without loosing individuality.

All this being said, I could have a million dinner guests singing glowing praise for my fare, but it will never mean as much as when Jack starts in about how amazing my cooking is because he is incapable of insincerity.  This morning as I was pulling my hair back, Isla announced as if she could no longer contain herself, "Mommy, you are soooooo beautiful!".  I have never ben more flattered.

8 Minutes

Saturday morning. The imminent trip to the Pumpkin Patch looms in the near future.

8:00am: Kids have been up for an hour (inherently I have been as well!)

8:30am: Dogs have been fed, watered and relieved.

8:50am: Kids have been fed, watered, dressed and mostly brushed.

8:55am: I duck away to Twitter quickly about the name, location and other pertinent info regarding the day trip we have planned.

9:00am: The ladies we will be carpooling with arrive on our doorstep with wonderfully appreciated punctuality.

9:01am: I can hear my husband offering coffee to our guests as he returns inside from puttering somewhere outside.

9:02am: Michael exclaims, "what is that smell?".  I logout and head downstairs.

9:03am: I round the corner into the hallway to discover on my right; my son stripped naked in the washroom, and on my left; that Velma has shat all over the living room rug. Two things are apparent:
1. Clothing hinders ones progress on the pot and 2. Velma still is not feeling well.

Eight minutes. It took a grand total of eight minutes for the household to self-destruct. I hear myself saying, "Remember 10 minutes ago when we were all ready to go?!" I get the sinking feeling our ride-mates are regretting their timeliness.

The wonderful thing about beginning your day on a low note is that there is no where to go but up!

Harvest Moon...

This years Fall Equinox and the Harvest moon happily converged. It really was stunning if you got a chance to see it. I mean, it looked like daylight outside despite the setting of the sun hours before, and it is not going to happen again until 2029.

The leaves here are turning. Bright red, yellow and orange - and I have crocuses blooming in the garden, is that normal?! Anyhoo, it really has put me into an Autumn state of mind. I am presently digging out my fall wreath and tomorrow we are headed to the Spencer Hill Orchard and Gallery in Grand Forks for the Apple Festival to grab some pumpkins and homemade apple juice.  Mmm pumpkin patchy apple juice :)

 

Buying pumpkins now and trying to keep them through the month can be difficult. Last year my friend Jo (who carries the Martha Stewart gene) passed along a super trick, that I am now passing along to you!






Preserving Your Pumpkin:
Fill you kitchen sink (or another deep basin) with cold water. 
Add 1 cup of Bleach
Submerge Pumpkin (or other lovely gourd-licious decoration) fully.
Let soak for 1 hour.
Pumpkin can be resoaked closer to carving time to ensure no mildew or mold!

It worked like gangbusters! The pumpkins I had last year lasted so long I was beginning to wonder if they had cured all the way through. I thought, "Great, I won't have to do this again! I'll just store these and reuse them every year!" But when I started decorating for Christmas in the first week of November (I know, I know, but it is a season people!) I put them outside and a squirrel ate them. Oops. Obviously I am starting from scratch this year, but it is too much fun to skip!

On the Road Again...

For the past ten years my husband and I have shuttled back and forth from the Coast of BC to visit our loved ones in Calgary. From Vancouver, the journey always begins in the wee hours of the morning, travels through several majestic ranges, up and down passes hemmed in by picturesque mountains, then we are finally pushed out into the breathtaking Big Sky Country that is Alberta.

It is a remarkable trip that we have down to an unremarkable science. He drives, we sleep (which is a nice change from "Isla screams").  We drive from full to fumes, sometimes rolling into gas stations just to make the very best time we can. Before kids the trip took around ten hours. After, it could take upwards of twelve. Rossland is smack in the middle, almost a perfect 600km bisector between Vancouver and Calgary. It now,  in theory, takes half as long to get to either end.
















I always envy my dear friend who stops. She stops in Osoyoos and lets the kids play a round at the mini golf. She stops at parks and she lets the kids out to play, completely disregarding how this effects the "time" she is making from point A to point B. As much as I "know" life is about the journey and not the destination somehow I never was able to make the literal jump!  We decided to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

Frank Slide sits at the foot of Turtle Mountain and neither Mike or I had visited the site for the better part of two decades. We left the dogs in the truck and went in with the kids to the lovely new interpretive centre. It was a wonderful digression. We watched documentary films, played with touchable exhibits, read heaps of first hand accounts and relearned about this historic, and preventable tragedy.

90 minutes later we returned to the vehicle ready and eager to get back on the road. Mike opened the door and was met with a terrible stench. Velma had unleashed an epic and entirely preventable tragedy of her own. We had left her out of her kennel. It was all over Isla's car seat and everything surrounding it. Not unlike most trips into the city we were returning at capacity and the kennel needed to be collapsed to fit Santa's booty into the wayback. That was a mistake. The mess only seemed to have hit porous, absorbant surfaces. Ughhh. I think we used an entire box of baby wipes to little or no avail. We lamented the remaining hours in the reek. As it turns out, nothing gets rid of that new car smell like a dog with diarrhea.

Wordless Wednesday - The Wedding

Falling...

Apparently I have been living under a rock. It took a trend on Twitter for me to Google a term that I have never heard before - Shana Tova.  I must confess I feel a bit of a fool writing this for all to see, I mean how does something like this slip through one's radar? Millions of people celebrate Rosh Hashana wishing one another blessings for the New Year with "Shana Tova". How have I known about Rosh Hashana (which according to Jewish faith, they have only been celebrating since the creation of man!) but not, not ever, Shana Tova. Good grief. Like I said, a rock, a big one I guess.

Anyhoo. The revelation of Shana Tova coincided with my usual Fall reverie. Every fall I wonder why this is not the "new year". If I am honest I have never been exactly thrilled by the festivities of Dec. 31. I am a terrible homebody and I find the traditional New Year night on the town dinner, dancing and drinking overpriced and underwhelming. January 1st looks and feels exactly the same as the day before, except I didn't go to bed early enough to get in a good ski day! But the Fall - I feel differently about the Fall.

 Here in Canada, Summer is falling off giving way to a New Season. A great preparation gets under way. Farmers and gardeners make ready the harvest as the earth goes dormant. Fall sounds different. The crunching of leaves beneath my feet. Storm windows go up (I know, I know, but our house was built in 1940 and we haven't put in new windows as of yet :S) there are fall fairs, canning, a new wardrobe, and new routines. I find it difficult not to make resolutions now.

Just as the Spring smells like rebirth, the Fall is scented with expectation. The Summer scatters us to play, and the Fall gathers us together again. The days grow shorter and we, as a family and a community, draw closer once more. We prepare for the season of celebration Winter brings.

L' shana tova everyone.

Homage Monday - Alyson Johnson

Alyson Johnson - www.alydahl.com 

When you see me bombing around town wearing this stunning piece of art around my neck and you ask where I got it, I'll tell you that my friend made it, and this is to whom I am referring. 


Aly Johnson has what it takes to make it in the financial world: smarts, grace, and mucho patience for man-babies parading around in business suits. The very skills, as it turns out, that are required to raise her two beautiful mensa-esque children, not that they are man babies, but they do parade around in their birthday suits! Having children changed Aly. Despite her prowess with the man-babies she discovered she would much rather teach her children well. This meant they needed to see her pursuing her dream not chasing her tail. Just like many of us Aly has had a few, "when one door closes, another is opened" moments, however what makes this dear friend exceptional is her Dorothy-like courage to move from monochrome into Technicolor.

But Dorothy was only dreaming and Aly is living her dream out loud. She has taken a hobby of 11 years and for the first time this past year, through her perseverance and strength of spirit,  she has made it into her full time job. In fact her burgeoning home-based industry is bursting at the seams and is in the process of branching out, maybe even in to your home! 
Aly has been featured in Island Child Magazine, as well as being listed as a designer to watch by Portobello West in Vancouver. If you are lucky enough to find yourself in Victoria you can witness the mouthwatering glamour in person by visiting Brandi Wein for Hair and there is even a coupon (have I mentioned my L-O-V-E of coupons!) in Mamma Mia's Coupon Book 

Aly's designs are at once inspired and inspirational, flirtatious and sophisticated, lively and feminine - they are breathtakingly beautiful. Visit www.alydahl.com.

Photography by Ashely Devaney and Alyson Johnson and is not to be used without prior permission

Guest Post - Brandie Weikle

I am thrilled to present the first guest post on ag.gray.gate! Brandie Weikle was featured earlier this week in the Artist Homage and without further adieu here is her article itself:


The kids are heading back to school this week, and I can’t help but yearn for some of that same newness that September brings when you’re young. Nervous tummies aside, who can forget the sense of possibility that came with that backpack of empty duo-tangs?

I took each of my boys, Cameron, 7, and little Alister, 3, on separate walks down to the little stationary shop on Bloor this weekend. My little guy is bound for Montessori school and in need of his first pencil case. And my first-born, now a “Grade Two-er,” needed the ritual purchase of new pencils, sharpener and glue stick, almost as much as he needed the reassurance that he was tall enough for second grade.

I’d love some new school supplies almost as much as a pair of nude platform pumps to complement my fall wardrobe. But while I don’t need a new binder (or, I guess, even the shoes - drat) I can satisfy that yearning with art supplies. So, I got a few new drawing pencils this weekend.

Because I’ve spent my whole career in journalism, and consider myself the most beginner of visual artists, it was a surprise when my sister wanted to feature me on her blog’s new weekly artist homage (secretly I’m thinking she was running out of people) and have me guest post the next day.

But then I got to thinking that maybe the subject of art doesn’t have to be that far off my usually parenting beat (I edit two websites for the Toronto Star, and write about a blog about parenting). All kids make art and all parents are capable of making art with their children.

When I was a little girl I was apparently quite easy to entertain with paper and crayons. I was forever trying to make snow globes out of jam jars and tiny bits of crumpled-up tin foil. I entered earnest little portraits of my best friend in the country fair. I painted posters to announce the rec-room premieres of my most recent plays.

Paintings by two grandparents decorated the walls of my homes growing up. In addition, we were also cottage neighbours (though we call them cabins no matter what their size out west) with artist/activist Wallis Kendal 

My most vivid memories of his artwork are of the canvasses that depicted what he saw on his trips to some of the most underdeveloped parts of the world. But artistically he’s now best known for his collaboration with Sandra Bromley on the Gun Sculpture http://www.gunsculpture.com/, an anti-violence installation made of 7,000 decommissioned weapons that has been exhibited around the world, including at the UN headquarters in New York and at the Centennial Exhibition of the Nobel Peace Prize in Seoul, South Korea.

Wallis would occupy us on rainy days with papier mache projects, kept up an elaborate fantasy that there were elves in the forest surrounding the lake who we just missed meeting because it was bedtime, and let us make banana peel ice cream for a “gross-out” party. (Everyone should have an eccentric artist or two in their upbringing.)

When I was a teenager Wallis took me to buy my first proper camera, a second-hand Pentax K-1000. Then we tromped around Edmonton’s Fringe Festival so I could photograph all the colourful buskers and artists. I felt like SUCH a serious photo-journalist.

I can’t bring his artistic ability to the table, but I do cover mine in newsprint and bring the kids and their friends there to work with paint brushes, acrylic paints and canvasses that make them feel like real-deal artists.

We have kind of an awesome time.

No matter how big you are, you get to create.

We’re working on a gallery in our basement stairwell.

Doesn’t just looking at these supplies make you want to give it a go yourself?

I’m quite sure that the kid in you will look at a blank canvass and appreciate the possibilities.

Not a bad metaphor for life, really.


-Brandie Weikle

Homage Monday - Brandie Weikle

via parentcentral.ca

Today I have the honour of featuring one of my favourite artists, Brandie Weikle. Brandie is an immensely talented and ambitious writer, the fantastic mother of two young boys, helplessly beautiful,  a gifted painter, foodie, design guru, and brilliant as all get out. Brandie is also my sister, I simply adore her.


In Brandie's own words,"I am an online and print journalist with specialties in parenting and health. Currently I'm the editor of two of the Toronto Star's specialty websites, parentcentral.ca and healthzone.ca. I decided to be a journalist in about grade 10 or 11, after I started writing for my school newspaper. But the very first thing I ever wanted to be when I was a wee girl was "an artist." In high school I discovered that I didn't have the drawing skills for art or architecture as a profession, but I continued to have an aesthetic yearning for the whole paint and canvass experience. I think it runs in the family. As you know my Grandpa Weikle painted landscapes. So did my mom's mom, Edna, who died before I was born. I started buying canvasses and painting them as what I'd call "decor art" about 10 years ago and then in the last few years, started dabbling in abstract landscape and realism, particularly as I became interested in birds.".

Regarding the yellow bird image: Birds are my current favourite thing to draw and paint. I guess it was my interest in birds that interested me in spending time drawing and painting for the first time since childhood. This image is the other kind of multimedia in my life. The branch the bird sits on is created using cutouts from a magazine. The pieces are from a picture of a long full skirt by Coach. The iconic print is kind of deconstructed here and - if you blur your eyes - it kinda mimics the black and white colour contrast of a birch branch.

I selected the colours of this picture so I can hang it next to this landscape, which is painted from a photo I took on a drive from Calgary to Drumheller, on the way to the dinosaur museum, of course! People go all the way to Provence to photograph the sunflowers against the blue sky, but the same colour combination is available right on the Canadian prairies every summer with fields of canola against all that big sky. It was a windy day, and I liked the way the grasses in the ditch were moving in the foreground.

Later, I got the idea to paint a bird cage with the door open, over two canvasses, to hint at the idea that this might have been someone's domesticated canary gone free.
-Brandie Weike

Brandie lives and works in the Greater Toronto area. You can read her insightful and informative online blog at the Toronto Star.