Rock the Gala

The gala, the gala, the gala. I love the gala.

I had a great time, exposed my belly and of course looked chubby in the tummy in most of the photos that were taken, but what can you do? I still danced my best, looked my best and felt awesome about it. And now I feel ready to move up to the first intermediate level. Two years of dancing and I really feel like I'm a dancer now. Not a great dancer, but a dancer. I claim it as part of my identity and that makes me happy.

The day following the gala, I went to a cupcake/tea party. It's about as fun as it sounds, which is basically loads of fun. It was at McPal's boyfriend's apartment and it ran for about nine hours. We drank tea and ate sandwiches, made and ate cupcakes, had pizza, good conversation. It was exactly the sort of party I like to attend.

I woke up this morning still full and with a belly that looks as though it's quit on me. There's also about six cupcakes in the kitchen, begging to be eaten. Four of them are Sesame Street cupcakes: Cookie monster, Oscar the grouch, Grover and Bert. Oh yes. A few of us got creative. It was, after all, a meeting of the craft club. I don't know how I'll be able to eat those, though. I mean, how do you take a bite out of Grover's face? I'm sure the Dude will find a way.

Before I go, here's something I read recently that really struck a chord with me. I'm still on a feminist rampage of important causes and want to share this item from one of my favourite blogs.

Pie!

Two posts in one day! But I'm feeling really keen on my pie making mad skillz.

McPal, his boyfriend and I got to our friend Freya's house around two. Her husband picked us up at the subway station, ingredients and tools in tow. Freya and her old roomie were already knee-deep in pie awesomeness by the time we arrived.

I insisted on making my pie crust from scratch and without any mixers. Reason being it was my first ever crust and I don't own any tools at home, so I didn't want to learn with things I don't have. They razzed me, but hot damn if it didn't work out A-OK.

My first pie crust!

With one oven and five bakers, you'd think it'd be hell's kitchen, right? But it wasn't. Our timing was impeccable. As McPal's pumpkin pie was baking, I was sauteing onions and garlic in melted butter on the stove. Then in went the feta, shredded cheddar and fresh chopped spinach.

Roomie's apple pie coming out of the oven,
and McPal's pumpkin pie about to go in.

Freya's house smelled amazing. Holy sweet mother of Sam on a stick. I mean, all that damn pie. My quiche baked for 45 minutes total and sat and cooled for over half an hour. From start to finish it took over two hours to make. It was easy, but it was a real process. But baking with friends was amazingly fun.

All the pies! From top right down: Pumpkin, meat pie, apple pie, ham quiche, custard pie, spinach quiche.


Cutting my quiche ^_^

The day was a success. We made some beautiful pie, but hot damn if we didn't nearly polish it all off. In all I ate about half a pie's worth. Freya ate 3/4 a pie, her husband taking the lead with one whole pie and then some. Of course, they started early. But we were all feeling it. No regrets, but the thought of eating any more pie made us feel nauseous.

And the thing is, I don't eat pie. I had my first pie when I was 23. It was pecan pie at a wine and pie party. I ate it to a round of applause for popping my pie cherry. I haven't eaten it since. But I ate two slices of quiche (Which doesn't count), one slice of custard pie (Which sort of counts) and one slice of pumpkin pie (Which totally and utterly counts). And it was good. It seems I'm now a special occasion pie eater, Christmas and Thanksgiving not being special in the right sense. I guess I now eat pie on days where pie is being celebrated.

I guess that's a little weird. Perhaps a wee bit neurotic.

But whatever. I brought home some pie to the Dude, who couldn't make it. My quiche was praised. Life is good.

Pie

I was invited to a pie making party by my craft club. On Sunday I'll be making pies. Well, rather my friends will be making pies. I'll be making quiche. I've never made quiche before, but I do like to eat it a lot.

The dude has been on my case about how I don't bake, and how I said I enjoy baking. This is true. I said that I both do bake and enjoy it. But the kitchen is small and the Dude is messy in the kitchen (Which makes me feel less inclined to spend any time in there, other than the time I spend cleaning up) and we have few baking utensils and tools at my disposal. So I've not baked at all.

I didn't bake in the last place either, because although the kitchen was larger, the other elements were the same. Actually, we had even fewer baking supplies, so there you go. Excuses, excuses, but valid ones.

But come Sunday, I'll bake, damn it. Granted, it won't be a dessert, but it still counts and I'm rather jazzed about it. I'll buy pie tins, a rolling pin and ingredients tomorrow after the rally, and then I'll make the pie crust dough, and then I'll be all set to go. Huzzah!

I must be getting old where attending a pie party with a craft club serves as weekend excitement. Oh well, fuck it. I've started to gray, I'm allowed to descend into fuddy-duddydom. That reminds me, I need to make a hair appointment yesterday.

Distracted

Not feeling quite up to the follow-up post to my last one, so I'm going to talk about my life again, in all its feeble glory.

Jerry is slowly deteriorating. His biopsy is the 17th. So four days more of wondering. I've been mentally preparing myself for the most likely outcome, which will result in putting him down. He's eating a little less, drooling a little more... The growth must be growing very fast. The vet did say it would be aggressive. Poor little guy. Yeah, he's old, but who wants to grow dependent and die?

Today is going to be enjoyable, though. It's craft club day. I've bought the materials and I'm going to make Christmas cards. I'm going to try to make Christmas cards, anyway. I've never done anything like that before. I tend to have an artistic knack and usually I can make something decent my first go. I think probably having the confidence to try new mediums is what helps me. So I'm hoping this go will be successful.

Man... I feel distracted, too distracted to even try to make a good post. I can only think about my cat.

Know what? Here's a funny blog about terrible crafts, in honour of craft club day. May we do better than these people: http://www.regretsy.com

One of a kind

Today I am going to the One-Of-A-Kind Craft Show. Score! I've been once before, and I've always wanted to go back. Things I'm hoping to find are gifts for two aunts and possibly some original Christmas cards.

I've been wanting, actually craving to make my own cards this year, but honestly I have no idea how to go about it without winding up with something akin to the type of macaroni on paper shit I made when I was seven. Where do you start? Scissors, glue, paper, envelopes that are pre-made to fit the size of cards you want to make... glitter? Pretty paper? I really have no idea.

I want to make it more Christmas-like around here. I have all of one decoration that I've never taken out of the box. The Dude has found our tree. You can buy it at Urban Outfitters for $20. So there's a plan. I've tried to send out Christmas cards in past years and this time I really want to kick it up a notch.

It's so easy to let it slide, and resort to grabbing a few gifts for those who you're closest to, make travel arrangements and call it a night. I want to feel the season and the spirit of the holiday. The more I think about it, the more important it is to break up the year, which is full of responsibilities, the job, housework, and so on.

I also think a few years ahead when I likely will have children. I don't want Christmas to begin and end with whether or not there are kids present. The Dude feels strongly about that sort of thing, and living vicariously through his nieces and nephews as they get excited about Santa. Me, not so much. Granted, it's sweet and endearing and there's nothing like a wee child putting out milk and cookies before bed, but I don't want the season to be just about whether or not there are kids to make it a valid holiday celebration.

I want the season to be about togetherness, and about the family you do have. I don't have much in the way of an immediate family, and that's something that grieves me. I have my brother, and I wouldn't trade him, but he's in another city and a man of few words. I'm more than blessed in the extended family arena, though. And so that's what Christmas means to me, being with those people who I don't see often enough and counting myself lucky to have them.

And so today is the first day for me where I am going to begin my ascent into the Christmas spirit. Someday I'll have children for whom I'll shop for toys. Until then, I'm enjoying a more adult version of the season. This, of course, shall include alcohol, festively served and loudly appreciated.

Three Things

Three things:

1. I am part of a craft club. I spend the evening with friends at one of their homes and we spent our Saturday night making bean frames. We had five varieties of beans and glued them on a few frames and then discussed our next craft.

Saturday nights about six years ago used to be spent either drinking, wanting to drink, or recovering from drinking on Friday night. There was some expectation of shenanigans. Now shenanigans make me feel the shame and pain, and I'm more preoccupied with making my new apartment-to-be look pretty. I believe this is called nesting.

2. The Dude came home yesterday and told me he went to a yard sale (Didn't I tell you?) and that he brought home a vintage KFC Colonel collectible piggy bank for $5. He preempted my protests by saying there was nothing I could say or do to make him throw it away. He has spent this morning on Kovels.com looking up old crap he's found on the side of the road and which I have made him sell or throw away. So far the biggest complaint is the chair. For an investment of $200 for materials, he could have repaired the chair 10 years down the road and it would be worth $400. For the record, the website said the Colonel is worth $18 American.

3. Today is an anniversary. I wanted to save it for last because it's the most important. 10 years ago my mom died. My younger brother and I were teenagers. I remember feeling lost, incapable of getting out of bed some mornings and thinking about the future was too hard. And now the future that I couldn't bear thinking about is here. I'm living it.

And I've learned something about grief, the real kind of grief that changes you. When you lose one of the few people in your life who truly and utterly matter to you, you never really get over it. You learn to adapt, to cope and to find joy in other areas of life. But you never feel less sorrow over your loss. You just know how to deal with it and keep moving forward.

I've been trying these past 10 years to become the sort of woman my mom would want to know. I will never get the chance to become her friend in my adult years now, but I can at least try to be someone she'd like. It's made me think a lot about my moral compass. Some people look to religion or the law or their parents. I'm using her memory.

I also know that at the 20-year mark, and the 30-year mark, I'll still miss her as much as I do now. And while it hurts, it's a comfort. Love is sometimes measured by how much pain you feel in its absence.