Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes

Ghosts of Christmas Past

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 22:22:00 +0000

To view my Christmas slideshow, please click "PLAY" and then continue clicking the right arrows to see all 10 photos.

Happy Holidays to all my fantastic friends in Blogland!

Love,

Kat

The Poetry Bus is back on track. (Well, the Santa-kart, anyway.)

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 18:14:00 +0000

Maelstrom (A Holiday Poem)

Sailing along
on a sea of people
all of them lugging
their loads.
Booted feet dragging—
the laggards
tagging along
behind
in snowslacks,
little legs
swish-swish
as they pass.

We are
the Christmas
holiday undead,
dazed eyes
glazed over
(is it nearly
over?)
Checking our lists
fishing in packs
for scraps
of paper
with names
and little ticks
beside them.

Some of us
singing along
to the tunes of carols
all of them worming,
familiar in our ears.
Some are
insidious, inane
and migraine-
inducing,
yet we hum:
baby, it's cold outside
and santa baby.
Somewhere
in the cerebrum,
they strike
a chord.

In the middle
of the mall
there's a swirling
mass of shoppers
going round
and round
caught up
in the maelstrom,
getting ground
up in the
yearly,
compulsive
convention
of Christmas.

I stand in the
centre of the
whirlpool
and wait
to be
pulled
un
der.

For more on The Poetry Bus, see my sidebar under “Prompts”.

Come sit by the fire.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 08:46:00 +0000

Days of Hygge

When skies are grey in Canada
And outside rules a storm,
We snuggle up inside our house
Where “hygge”keeps us warm.

“What is this hooga?”, you may ask—
Not hearing word before,
So “Velkommen”, we say to you,
Step in through our front door—

Where fire’s burning in the stove,
Candles flicker bright,
Table’s set for feasting while
With friends we will unite.

Cozy couches pushed up close
To the wood-fire’s glow.
Toast your neighbor with a “skal”!
Some Aqvavit must flow!

Tasty foods keep coming out
On the heaping plates;
Take up your Tuborg in between—
The hygge rule dictates…

When winter’s breath is blowing
Its dreary days so dank,
We’re cozy in our little house—
The Danes we need to thank.

Kat Mortensen©2007

Theme Thursday: “History” AND Sepia Saturday #4: A Godly Woman

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:47:00 +0000

I've got a busy few days ahead of me with the in-laws coming to town, so I've decided to combine both Theme Thursday and Sepia Saturday in one post. As TT this week is "history", I hope you won't mind if I utilize the Sepia Saturday format to illustrate a bit more of my personal family history on my mother's side. If a poem hits me in the meanwhile, I'll be sure and post it too.

This is my Grand-Aunt. (My grandmother, Katie from the “Girl in a Swing” post was her sister.) She was born in 1906. She was about 18 when this studio-photo was taken. I only ever knew her as “Sister Agnes”, or simply, “Sister”, but she was lovingly called, “Mamie” by her family. Her full name was Mary Josephine McNeil. She had 8 siblings, but she was the only one who had a vocation to be a nun.

At the age of seventeen, Mamie went up to Halifax, Nova Scotia from Glace Bay, Cape Breton to get a teaching degree at Mount St. Vincent (“The Mount”)and enter the convent as a postulant of the Sisters of Charity. Her mother and father were truly saddened to see her leave, especially, her “Papa”. She had always been his favourite.

When she became a nun, she took the name, “Agnes Eucharia”—Lamb of the Eucharist (flesh and blood of Christ). As a child, it was always a most unusual name to me, but as I grew older and realized the significance, I thought it suited her perfectly.

Sister taught for 22 years in Hamilton, Bermuda (according to the Sisters of Charity website, until the 1950s, Bermuda was part of the Halifax archdiocese. The Bishop in Hamilton called for sisters to minister in Bermuda as far back as 1878). She later returned to North America to further her education in Boston, where my mother thinks she got a Master’s degree. She went back to Halifax and in the sixties, she became Bursar for all the offices of the Sisters of Charity in Canada. There was also some sort of government recognition of her in the form of an award (I have e-mailed the office of the Sisters of Charity for more information), but as yet, we do not know for sure what it was.

She was the sweetest most gentle person I have ever known. She never had an unkind word to say and was always smiling. Her face lit up every time she saw me and she filled me with a sense of peace and joy. The face of God shone through her.

In our home, she had a nickname that I’m sure she was never aware of. My father called her “Stragnes”. Far from being a slight to her, it was a loving term, for my father and she had a very strong bond. He recognized her great faith and she saw the same in him, for all his flaws. They kept up a correspondence through the years, with Sister sending him many religious articles, books and prayer cards. She encouraged his faith and he stayed true to it until the end. My mother also has a number of letters from her beloved Aunt that refer to when they were both in Halifax and mom used to visit her.

The thing I remember most about Sister Agnes, was her skin. It was flawless. She had soft, smooth, pale skin that looked like a baby’s bottom, it was that supple. I think being a nun suited her. I think when you serve God, you are free of the cares of life that mark you with deep lines and sorrowful expression. I believe that’s one of the reasons why I often entertained the notion of being a nun myself. I really did! (Mostly it was because I despaired of ever finding the right man and thought that it was a good alternative.)

Sister Agnes Eucharia died in 1991, but outlived all of her family. I’m certain she has been rewarded in heaven for the wonderful, unselfish and loving life she led here on earth. I hope she and my dad are together, praying for the rest of us.

The Tiger (with the utmost apology to Blake)

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 18:17:00 +0000

The Tiger (Third Draft)*

Tiger! Tiger! fading fast
From the glories of your past,
What immoral breast or thigh
Could make you stake your majesty?

To what plunging necks and sighs
Were the Masters fans not wise?
On what beds dared you lose kip?
What the heck!—You lose your grip?

And what shoulder,and what skin,
Could cause you, foolish, to give in?
And when the deed had taken place,
What red hands and what red face?

What's the matter? what's your pain?
In what sess-pool was thy brain?
Where's the sponsor? where's Tag Heuer;
Did Nike's cut lose its allure?

When your car hit hard that tree,
And drove you into infamy,
Did they groan to see your fall?
Or think their profit-line would pall?

Tiger! Tiger! fading fast
From the glories of your past,
What immoral breast or thigh
Could make you stake your majesty?

*I find it very appropriate that the original poem is taken from Blake’s collection, “Songs of Experience”.

What’s on tap for this week?

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 17:03:00 +0000

It’s coming up to Christmas (as we all know) and this year is a little different for us since we will be entertaining my husband’s parents at our house come this Friday.

Christmas is a big thing for the Danish. I married into a great culture of tradition that usually means a Christmas Eve feast. We can’t be present for the actual Eve celebration, so we’re going to try and bring a bit of that to the Hyggehus. You may wish to read more about the Danes and their “hyggelig” in my post, “Life in the Danish Hyggehus”. (That’s a photo of our house that was taken a few years back. )

I’m sure I’ve mentioned in the past, that Kev and I don’t eat meat. We do eat fowl and fish, but nothing that comes from a four-legged creature. The Danes love pork. Well, you can see the dilemma in this situation, but we usually do make a compromise (I ask for forgiveness from all the true vegetarians and the porcine world at large). We concede to one piece of pork roast to keep things copacetic for Christmas.

Of course, it’s even worse when I’m planning on cooking said pork myself. Rather than work with a slab of pork roast, I am choosing to do a pork tenderloin in the crockpot (where I will only have to look at it very infrequently) along with some delectable vegetable dishes.

Here’s the menu:

Spicy Pork Tenderloin

Potatoes à la boulangère

Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

Baked Parsnips and Carrots

Followed by:

Coconut Cream Cake and coffee.

Drinks will begin with an apéritif of either Aalborg Danish Jubiloeums Akvavit with its hint of dill and coriander to prepare the palate for the spiced pork or, Danish cherry-wine cocktail, Kirsberry over ice.

The wine for dinner will be a nice Riesling and we’ll follow up with a lovely glass of Graham’s Late Bottled Vintage Port.

Recipes:

Spicy Pork Tenderloin

Pork tenderloin (1 lb.)

1 clove garlic, chopped

1 cup apricots (this recipe called for preserves, but I prefer to use dried and heat on the stove with a little water until they become soft.

juice of 1/2 lemon

1/8 tsp. red pepper flakes

1/8 tsp. cumin

sea salt and ground pepper

1 Tbsp. olive oil

(I have a feeling I may be ramping up the spice-factor)

Cut evenly spaced slits across the top of the pork tenderloin. Insert pieces of garlic. Season with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Let sit for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, heat apricots with 1/4 cup of water, lemon juice and spices. If necessary add water so the fruit does not stick to the pan. Coat the pork with the olive (use clean hands to smooth it over the entire piece. Yuck! What I do for family!) Roast the pork in a slow cooker/crockpot for 1 hour. Spread fruit compote over the pork and roast for a further 3 hours on low until it reaches an internal temperature of 160 degrees.Let rest for 5-10 minutes before serving with the apricot sauce over top.

Potatoes à la boulangère

400 g peeled potatoes, thinly sliced

1 small onion, peeled and thinly sliced

Fresh ground pepper to taste

1/4 cup (generous) vegetable or chicken stock

1/4 cup (generous) skim milk

1 tsp. butter

Layer potato and onion slices in a shallow, oven-proof dish (pepper each layer). Mix stock and milk and pour over potatoes. Dot with butter. Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Remove foil and bake for another 30 minutes.

Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

200g red cabbage (tough core removed), finely sliced

1 medium cooking apple, peeled, cored and chopped

1 shallot, peeled and finely chopped

1 Tbsp. wine vinegar

1 Tbsp. brown sugar

1 tsp. butter

2 Tbsp. water

fresh ground pepper, to taste.

Put all ingredients in a heavy-bottom, lidded pan. Season to taste with pepper. Cook over medium heat for 15 minutes. Stir well and replace the lid. Reduce hat and simmer for 30-40 minutes, stirring once or twice. When tender, serve.

Can be cooked in the oven for the same length of time (at 325 degrees).

Baked Parsnips and Carrots

2 parsnips

4 carrots

1 Tbsp. butter

salt and fresh ground pepper

pinch of cumin

1 Tbsp. water

Peel parsnips and carrot. Cut in half cross-wise, then cut length-wise into strips. Place in baking dish and dot with butter. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and cumin. Add water. Cover and bake at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes.

Can also be done in a covered dish in the microwave on High Power for 12 –15 minutes (or until tender).

Coconut Cream Cake

1 organic white cake mix

1/2 tsp. coconut extract

1 can coconut cream

1 can sweetened condensed milk

flaked coconut for garnish

In either a 13 x 9 or 2 round pans, bake cake. Allow to cool. Pierce top all over with a fork. Blend cream, condensed milk and coconut extract. Pour over cake. Sprinkle with flaked coconut. Let stand overnight. Refrigerate for a while before serving the next day.

I intend to shake a few green and red sprinkles over top to give it a real Christmassy look. The white cake with the coconut looks very much like snow.

What are you serving for your Christmas celebration?

(Recipes came from either my head (combining some internet recipes) or these two books: The Pocket fat, carbohydrate & fiber counter by Carol Bateman and Anne Lindsay’s, The Lighthearted Cookbook.)

Sepia Saturday #3: Girl in a swing.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 21:15:00 +0000

She was 18 when this photograph was taken. Home from Mount St. Vincent University in Halifax, Nova Scotia she shed the young lady who was studying hard to make a career for herself as a teacher to indulge the little girl that was still there in her heart. You can see how much she’s enjoying herself by the big smile on her face and the relaxed posture—the slight lean of her body. Note how she loosely grips the ropes, how her arms hang almost slack and her feet dangle in their shiny black shoes and dark socks.

She was born in 1896 and died in 1990 at the age of 94. In December, 1902, she got to sit on Marconi’s knee when he was in town to make the first transmission of a radio message to cross the Atlantic. Her father was the town clerk of Glace Bay and brought his six-year old daughter to see the event.

She was a life-long fan of Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau and there was even a rumour that she had a rose he had given to her personally on one of his campaigns.

She loved to watch the Montreal Canadians trounce the Toronto Maple Leafs in ice hockey.

She wouldn’t say no to a drink of beer on a hot summer’s day.

Her only regrets in life were that she never learned to use a typewriter or drive a car.

She was my grandmother, Sarah Catherine “Katie” Harris (nee McNeil).

For more Sepia Saturday entrants, see Alan Burnett’s News From Nowhere blog where he is recording all participants. Feel like joining in? Just let Alan know you’ve posted and he’ll put you on the list.

One of Seven (another sort of “snow” poem)

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 22:11:00 +0000

Lawren Harris “Blue and White” Painting from The McMichael Collection (click for source)

A Cold Exterior

He paints

with a cold eye,

the ice and snow—

clouds skating

on a summer sky.

A brick house,

its timeworn, mortar

wall—comes to pieces;

the chips fall,

to be scoffed up

by the mounds

below.

Top floor rooms

ablaze

with cadmium glow,

but steel-blue door

and ghost-white glass

below,

stand firm—

where someone bides,

but none

would go.

Theme Thursday: “snow”

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 20:31:00 +0000

Homebound

That Christmas—

after the party,

we were tipsy,

weren’t we?

And it was just

impossible

to resist

flinging ourselves

(all down-puffed)

backward

into that battlement.

Sinking in—

the mind-numbing cold

rousing our minds, numbed—

just enough

to orchestrate

our arms—our legs

into seraphs

of snow.

As if you don’t know enough about me!

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 19:40:00 +0000

Re: my previous post

Daisy, our fragile feline, aged 14 1/2

Things are much better in the Hyggehus. I’m happy to report that Daisy has improved. (Separating the girls from the boys at feeding time has reduced her stress levels significantly and she’s eating well again.) We are still concerned about the possibility of Hyperthyroidism or Diabetes Mellitus, but we’re keeping an eye on her and if she fails to gain weight we will get her to the vets. We operate on the 24 hour-rule recommended by some veterinarians: Give it 24 hours and see if it doesn’t resolve itself. Nine times out of ten, it does. It did, but we are still guarded.

The impromptu guest was my sister-in-law who was in the region (she lives near our nation’s capital, Ottawa, Ontario) for an engagement party and then dropped our niece off at Guelph University. She then came on to us (we’re a bit further west) and stayed in the “India Room” (the animals were taken back to their home on the bookshelf). She left early Monday morning to drive home as a snowstorm was imminent.

Now to the nature of this post. I’ve told you all kinds of things about me in the past, but I’m sure I can reveal a few more unknowns to comply with the rules of receiving the “From Me to You” award. Sandra Leigh of the wonderful and intelligent, Voyages of the Blue Turtle (I keep getting her blog-title mixed up with that song by Sting) has given this to me. Thank you, Sandra!

I am forced to once again come up with a list that will allow you all into my life just that little bit more. I am forced I tell you! (Incidentally, the award has a permanent home over at Kigo of the Kat since there’s more space over there.)

Seven Things You May Or May Not Know About Me (All true this time)

1. I didn’t get my driver’s licence until I was 21 and I refuse to drive on the highway. If you could see the number of transport trucks on our biggest motorway, the 401, you’d understand why.

2. I have a degree in English Literature from the University of Toronto. I often wish it were more than just a B.A. Four years after I graduated, I actually re-enrolled with the intention of getting another B.A. in Celtic Studies, including Gaelic Language. I decided it was a mistake. I sometimes regret that decision.

3. I worked for a number of years as both a teaching assistant with kindergarten kids with learning disabilities and then as what was termed, “an unqualified substitute teacher”. I’ll say!

4. Although I enjoy recorded classical music, I am not a fan of sitting and watching a concert. If I do go to a concert, I have to be near an exit at all times (tiny bladder).

5. I am a huge fan of the old “Columbo” series and have every single episode from the pilot to the most recent ones done in the 80s and 90s on dvd.

6. I would love to own an Irish Wolfhound and an Italian Greyhound. I would call the Wolfie, “Geldof” and the IG, “Sofia”.

7. I have never read a book (novel) more than once. I know some people can read them over and over, but I feel there are too many other ones out there that I have yet to discover (and I’m running out of time as it is) without reading the same ones again.

I would like to pass this award and hear “7 things” from these 7 people:

Alan Burnett

Neetzy

Steviewren

Titus the Dog

Leah

Chris

John (Oopsy! I forgot Sandra gave one to him as well.)

Liza

Each one of these seven (eight) is an artist—some with paint, others with ink, some with both and more besides. I guarantee, you will never be disappointed in a visit to any of their blogs.

The Best Laid Plans...

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 15:45:00 +0000

Dear Friends,

I had hoped to get to visit everyone who so kindly popped in over the last few days with such wonderful and generous (as always) comments. However, an impromptu overnight guest and a quite ill little cat, Daisy has put paid to these intentions. I will do my best to visit everyone in the next few days.
If you see me on Facebook, know that it is just my stress-reliever to harvest my crops on Farmville, or take out a few Mafioso in Mafia Wars. Don't hold it against me, please!

Have a wonderful, wintry day (the snow is falling with alacrity here).

Kat

Sepia Saturday #2: Dad’s Army

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 00:21:00 +0000

Army Life c.1945 (my father is on the right)

My dad was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He was the seventh child in a family of twelve children. At the age of 15 1/2, he joined the British Army as a Boy Soldier. That was in 1942. He never saw active duty in World War II, but he was a sergeant for 11 years and was a member of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers.

Strangely, my father did not pursue a career in mechanics when he arrived in Canada in 1953. Instead, he got his high school qualifications and went on to become a Chartered Accountant with Revenue Canada. Yes! My dad was THE TAXMAN! We used to joke with him whenever Matthew, the Tax Collector was mentioned in the readings at Sunday Mass. Matthew had "a bad rap", he used to say in his own defense.

My father loved numbers, but he also loved the outdoors and nature. You can see by this picture that he had the opportunity to relax with his fell0w-soldiers. I love this picture because it captures a sense of contentment that I quite often saw in my father’s face when he was out working in the yard at our house on Pyramid Crescent. I wonder what he was thinking at the time the photo was taken?

The badge on his cap is the official R.E.M.E. badge. I am pleased to be in possession of a patch with this insignia woven into it as well as 2 metal badges that he once wore. We also have a number of photos from his army days and his original red-paper dog-tag.

Please visit Alan Burnett at the News From Nowhere blog to see another Sepia Saturday post. Watch the comments to see who else is playing along or perhaps tell us if you’re going to play too!

And now for something COMPLETELY different.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 20:30:00 +0000

Faded Roses

When did this start?

This practice I keep

of placing roses

on my Christmas tree?

Not much of a rose-lover.

Spurned a suitor once

who showered me

with a dozen deep red ones

to show his ardour—

too much for me.

I had rather be the doormat,

trod upon or stood up

than suffocate under

the weight of that oppressive

scent.

I’m safe now, with cheap

cloth roses

fading year by year

on my tree—

mimicking my waning

wonder

at the season.

Festive? Fraught rather,

with fractious company,

false prattle and

pleasantries no one

really means.

Let me fly from

this truculent tree-trimming—

the turkey in the pot

and the sheets of pretty paper

required to camouflage

this sham.

I close my eyes

pretending to be

of Muslims or Islam,

somewhere far from Xmas,

where the flowers

are flame-orange—

their sweet seeds

spiriting me away.

N.B. Don’t worry! This isn’t absolutely how I feel; it’s not nearly THIS bad!

Theme Thursday: “Friend” (We make some new ones.)

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 15:34:00 +0000

Clockwise, starting with the bear with the bowtie: Teddy (under his crocheted suit (hand-made by me), is the original orange plushy bear circa 1961. He came all the way from England!), Richard Parker, the tiger was rescued from the big, bad garbage truck!, Manny, the Manatee is a new member of the gang, Pablo, the big BLUE bear. Eli, the Shepherd-lamb holding baby, Isaac), Carl, the cardinal, Goody and Will (Lemur Mom and baby from Goodwill) Gordon, the Ram (who NEVER uses the “F” word), Sergeant, the German Shepherd, Flo (Florence) and Pisa (He leans) the Boxers, Hobo, the shaggy dog, from Texas, Hennessy, the Highland Cow, Footix, the Official mascot of the ‘98 World Cup in France, Shingles, the sloth with Ewen, the lamb, Henri, the French-speaking Arctic Hare, and Hush, the Basset.

Who are we? We are the Hyggehus Gang! We live with K and K and the four cats in the Hyggehus on Dane Street.

We are happy together in the India Room upstairs and we all have very interesting stories, but that’s not why we’re here today. We are here today to tell you about our new friends who live very far away in the state of Idaho, U.S.A.

Our new friends at the new Platypuss-in-Boots blog would love for you to visit and say “hello”!

Very soon, our Top Cat, Mr. Richard Parker the tiger will be interviewed over at P-in-B and we all get to go and visit with Goat, Pinky, Bink and Queen Gretel, Piggles and all the rest. Won’t you come too?

Big-Bed Land

In Big-Bed Land the animals dwell;

Their Monsters treat them very well;

They rub along; their heads don’t swell,

And each one has a tale to tell.

In Big-Bed Land the flowers grow;

It’s hot some days; sometimes there’s snow;

From Monster-J, the sweet tunes flow;

Big E, weaves colours, don’t you know?

In Big-Bed Land the pirates play

On Summer Island, every day,

And friends can come from far away;

The S’mores are yummy, so they say.

We’re off to visit Big-Bed Land,

So come and see us if you can;

We’ve got a picnic that we’ve planned,

Our map and hats—it will be grand!

How I Named My Blog Day

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 19:13:00 +0000

This has been popping up in a few places on my dashboard today, so I thought I would chime in.

This blog-journey began in July of 2007. I wanted something unique to identify me—with the poetry in the forefront. I wanted the poetry to permeate the title and the theme of this blog.
Originally the term, "Ars Poetica" was my bent, but I felt it was too limiting. I wanted a wide audience—wanted to expose all sorts of people (even people who don't necessarily like poetry) to my work. Also, my name had to feature somehow, to link me with the creative efforts I would be displaying.

It was then that I came up with combining the word "poetic" with my name, Kathleen. Of course, Poetic Kathleen doesn't have much of a ring to it, so I played around with it a bit. That's what I do best—play around with words. I am a cryptic crossword fan, and lover of the thesaurus and dictionary (not to mention Google and Wikipedia).

Eventually, I juggled the words around and conjured up Poetic Kat, which got shortened to Poetikat.

But I wanted something more, to flesh out the nickname. I researched quotations about poetry and came up with one I loved instantly: Carl Sandburg's words: "Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes." Perfect! I loved that notion of poetry being somehow intangible and yet something you can carry with you where ever you go. The word "packsack" didn't really work for me though; I felt it was too long, so, Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes was born.

It's really funny how I have become "Kat" when all who know me in real life call me "Kathleen". Although, my husband has started calling me by the shorter name.

As ever, I am eternally grateful to all my blog-advocates, friends, regulars and newcomers. Welcome all and I hope you enjoy your visits!

Addendum: Incidentally, one of my favourite poems comes from Sandburg (1878-1967). It combines two of my favourite things: cats and fog.

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Oh dear! We are unforgivably late!

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 16:05:00 +0000

Kitty Mangleword here. (Remember me from that fantastic shindig at Willow’s a while back?)

I’ve managed to arouse Bertie out of a G & T induced stupor (with the help of Jeeves and his sacrosanct hangover cure). We’re in a tizzy trying to get packed and make our way to the Concorde which will jet us over to Mr. Toast’s ChristmasTea Bash in Aspen in a jiffy. It’s on loan from Mr. Virgin himself, George Branson ( I know he doesn't actually own it and his name is really Richard, but he's a very good friend of our Jeeves (and this really is a trip in the old Tardis, darling!).

I have no idea what to wear, but Jeeves is going through my paltry wardrobe and trying to come up with something befitting those chilly nights in snow-country. Mind you, being Canadian, I do know how to cope. I think he’s managed to snag one of Aunt Agatha’s muskrat coats. I wouldn’t ordinarily wear it —( hello, PETA!) but as it’s ages old anyway and the muskrat long-since gone to a den in (what a coincidence! I see an e-mail has just popped up from the Humane Society. ‘Struth!) in the great forest of Arden or some such heavenly spot, I won’t feel a twinge of guilt.

Of course, I’ll also need a tea-gown, a peignoir set, some satiny slippers, a clutch bag, some jewels and a muffler (not necessarily in that order).

In the meantime, if you’re keen (Bertie, do come away from that piano! We’ve got to get going! No, I have not seen your toothbrush! Ask Jeeves!) I have a few links to some previous tea-related posts (some may be familiar to you if you’re long-standing guests of this domicile. To you newbies, it should be fresh material.)

http://hyggedigter.blogspot.com/2008/04/oldie-but-goodie.html

http://hyggedigter.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-mug-haiku.html

Oh, and I found a teency tea poem (below video) that I penned for another tea-party so it’s here too. Must dash! Bertie’s heading for the drinks cabinet and I can’t get him to stop singing, “Forty-Seven Ginger-headed Sailors!”

Only Tea

On a desert isle
Only one can be
In your little china pot
Coffee, brewed, or tea?

The answer is quite simple
No need to have a think
Can't possibly endure the day
Without my tea to drink.

My 15 minutes—more or less.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 16:28:00 +0000

Kate Bush. In university, I wanted to be her. I thought she was the most incredible, gorgeous, unique female talent I had ever heard or seen. One of my boyfriends (not the French guy) tried to teach me to play a slick black bass guitar so I could stand up on talent night at the pub and play and sing “Suspended in Gaffa” from “The Dreaming” album. I chickened out of performing on stage and never did master the bass. Boyfriend was never as keen after that.

One time, at a party,(and after quite a few drinks—it was either champagne or perhaps, a couple of icepicks (vodka and iced tea)—I tossed a Kate album on the turntable (fairly low) and began to sing. I think it was, “Wow”.

Well, I must have been half-ways decent because a small crowd began to gather and listen to me. Someone even turned the music down another notch.

If you are a singer of any shape or form, you may know that alcohol not only releases ones inhibitions, but it also seems to make your voice that much stronger and clearer. Or is that just me? In any case, my voice was on pitch, clear as a bell and captivated my small audience.

I’m a closet karaoke artist too. For my husband’s parents’ 50th anniversary, we bought them a karaoke machine and of course we had to test it out. For a few days, Kevin and I sang solos and duets in our front room and we weren't half bad. I do a mean, “Big Spender” and he’s killer on “Try to Remember” from “The Fantasticks”. Then, at the anniversary party, the karaoke machine was opened and it was a huge hit! Again, I sang in front of a small crowd and they seemed to really like it.

I’m tempted to get dressed to the nines, go out one night with my husband to a karaoke bar and just go nuts! Will I do it? Probably not, but it’s firmly lodged on my “bucket list” along with staying at the Ice Hotel and riding the Orient Express.

I know this karaoke business is certainly within my grasp, but for now, I’ll content myself with watching “Don’t Forget the Lyrics” and singing along, or spinning my old Kate Bush discs and belting out “WOW”! for my feline fans.

Sepia Saturday: A Photographic Memoir

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 12:31:00 +0000

When Alan Burnett, the very nice gentleman of the wonderful “News From Nowhere” (and other great blogs) said tongue-in-cheek that he had been held up from his participation in Theme Thursday because of his commitments to various other participatory blogs, he happened to mention a fictitious “Sepia Saturday”. Being the sort of person who looks for new opportunities and ideas, I commented that “Sepia Saturday” sounded like a great concept and that I have a stack of old photos that might fit the bill. Okay, I don’t really have that many actual sepia pictures, but I’ve got loads of old black and whites and a just a few from the 19th Century.

Alan contacted me and expressed approval of the notion and we are officially launching Sepia Saturday today, November 28, 2009. So, if you have any old photos you’d like to share, feel free to participate in our new adventure.

Of course, you have all been hearing much about my father since he passed away, but I rarely get to share much about my mom. (Mind you, she does get quite a bit of screen-time on my Blasts From the Past blog, but it’s not always favourable and she’s a very good sport about it.) It’s time I gave her a bit of attention here, at Keepsakes and I know just how to do it.

I’d like to share a few photos of my mom, Alice Elizabeth (Betty). Her maiden name was Harris and her mother’s family name was McNeil. (in fact, I believe in Cape Breton you’re always within 100 yards of a Mc or MacNeil.) She is the middle daughter in a family of 5 children: Three girls— Kay (b. 1923), Betty(b. 1929) and Joan,( b. 1931 and d. in 2005) and 2 boys, James (b. 1926) and Guy, (b. 1939).

Her father, Guy Harris was an unassuming, soft-spoken man who clerked for the Dominion Coal Company that mined the coal below the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Glace Bay. He loved his family, his homeland and his pipe.

Her mother, Kathleen (Katie) Harris (nee McNeil) was a wonderful homemaker and a fantastic baker (I know because many the time I sampled her homemade donuts, rolls, biscuits and pies). My mother inherited that skill from her and I’m pleased to say that I’m a pretty good baker myself.

My mom and her sister Joan were Kiwanis Festival piano-recitalists young ladies. (I was too, but with much less favourable results.) Mom also worked in the drugstore in Glace Bay and made the best milkshakes for miles around. She moved to Halifax, Nova Scotia as a young woman and worked as a secretary, but eventually she took the opportunity to relocate in Toronto, Ontario when her older sister, Kay and her husband Bill, invited her to live with them and help out with their growing family.

On Grey Cup weekend (a big event in Canadian Football) in November 1956, at the Masonic Dance Hall she was attending with her two girl-friends, she met and fell in love with my father, Bill Davison. The other girls met their husbands on the same night. Alice Elizabeth, known as Betty, and William Henry (Bill) got engaged the following July in 1957 and married in August, 1958 at St. Anne’s church, in Glace Bay.

Below are some pictures of my mom. She was an adorable child, a charming young girl and beautiful young woman. No wonder my dad lost his Irish heart to her!

Top to bottom: Mom as a little girl on the front steps of her house on York Street in Glace Bay, c. 1934; Mom (on right) with her sister Joan in the backyard.(c. 1945), Mom doing her bathing beauty pin-up shot in the same backyard(c. 1947).

I hope you enjoyed this first instalment of Sepia Saturday. Please visit Alan’s blog to see his sepia photos and consider joining in the fun.

Kat

“True Lies” or, “You Still Know Nothing About Me”.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 22:02:00 +0000

Click for source.

Well, it’s been a fun week since Rachel set us off with this game that she saw at Liz’s, I believe and it has just snow-balled. Keep it going, say I. It’s kind of fun, don’t you think?

Here are the answers to my offering. I just know you’ve been waiting with bated breath to find out which one of these is the true lie.

I love black olives.

I do! I love them on pizza, in a submarine sandwich and especially in pasta putanesca.

I do not like camping.

I don’t! As much as I love nature, I do not love being in the wilds. I’m a terrible camper. It’s not the lack of luxury—I can do without a hairdryer and mod cons, but I love my bed too much to sleep in a tent. And let’s not forget how terrified I am of bees.

I have an older half-sister and a younger adopted one.

I do! I am the middle child between an older daughter that I only found out about 10 years ago. I have an adopted sister who is six years my junior.

I was a radio disc jockey in university

I was! In Second year of uni, I had my own radio show, “Mental Notes” where I played mainly post-punk/alternative/ska and tons of Kate Bush!

I once dated a French Canadian who wore harem pants.

I DID!!! Sylvain Painchaud (I am NOT making this up!) came from Montreal and his fashion of choice was a pair of pants with a crotch that hung down around his knees. (It was the 80s and he was a trend-setter.) I forgave him that for his accent and his good looks. Giulia, you can’t relax now.

I am afraid of heights.

I am! I don’t like balconies, mountain tops, or cliffs. My dad made me look over the edge at the Cliffs of Moher and I nearly puked! (I was lying on my belly).

I have fished brook trout (dug worms, baited hook, caught, cleaned and cooked them).

Yes! I have. My uncle in Nova Scotia took me on a fishing trip in the woods to get some trout for supper. I guess I had something to prove because I did everything and I’m proud of it!

I despise shopping malls.

I do! I’m a thrift-store, small department store shopper. If I HAVE to go to a mall, I get in and get what I need and get the hell out! I don’t like crowds and I don’t like standing around waiting for people with nowhere to sit. I really hate Christmas shopping in malls the worst of all.

I have been on the back of a fast-moving Kawaski 750.

I absolutely have—many times, in fact. We owned it. Now we have the Mini Cooper for fun, spree-filled rides, but those days on the back of the motorcycle were a blast!

I love to watch American Football (Go Bills!)

I DON’T!!! It's not so much the sport itself, it’s the racket of the crowds and the television commentators that really gets under my skin. Unfortunately, as much as I try to like it, I just end up “zoning out” and looking off into space.

I DO like soccer (football).

Congratulations are due to Gabrielle who got it right without hesitation, and also TFE who second-guessed himself and struck on the right one! Sorry, I have no prize to bestow upon you, other than a “Well done, you!” Thanks for playing.

Kat

The Fruits of My Labours

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 15:38:00 +0000

Click for source.

How Not To Cut A Mango

Firstly,
A mango is not
an avocado
and the pit
is not a nut
at its core.
It is flattish,
like a sole-fish,
having curves,vulvar.
You cannot
circumnavigate it
with your knife;
the result is either
a mess
of mashed-up mango,
or a broken blade.
It is impossible
to extract
precise
pieces
of fruit
from a poorly carved mango;
you must do it right,
or be disappointed
in the result,
and the sweet savouring
shall surely suffer
in the absence
of skill.

Kat Mortensen©2009

Revamping an old favourite.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 20:01:00 +0000

Photo by Kat

Rococo Squirrels

Rococo Squirrels are rampant

In my backyard these days,

Their pudgy arms and stocky legs

Betray their greedy ways.

Where once they lightly scampered round

From tree to tree to fence,

These days they lumber heavily

Beneath their girths immense.

Squat showdowns aren’t irregular

When squads storm my porch-floor,

To scrap and scrape for nuts and seeds

I’ve scattered out the door.

At autumn’s end, the Sumos come

To act out their burlesque.

Rococo squirrels are swirling round,

Or are they Rubenesque?

And that's the truth ... almost.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 16:37:00 +0000

Click for photo source.

I saw this over at Rachel's blog, "More About the Song" and couldn't resist testing my followers to see just how well they think they know me.
The list below contains one blatant lie. See if you can pick it out.

Good luck!

1. I love black olives.
2. I do not like camping.
3. I have an older half-sister and a younger adopted one.
4. I love to watch American Football (Go Bills!)
5. I was a radio disc jockey in university
6. I once dated a French Canadian who wore harem pants.
7. I am afraid of heights.
8. I have fished brook trout (dug worms, baited hook, caught, cleaned and cooked them).
9. I despise shopping malls.
10. I have been on the back of a fast-moving Kawaski 750.

Please bear with me.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 20:20:00 +0000

Click for photo source.

I'm sure some of you think I've gone all schizo or something with the constant changes I keep making to my background on this blog. The truth is, I have yet to find THE one that satisfies me. I'm not really a "hearts and flowers" type, nor am I all scrap-booky, or buttons and bows.
The problem is, I do want something unique, but now showy and when I find colours I like, I seem to get some flower or button thing thrown into the mix. This is the reason for my losing the most recent background that was present until this morning.

The reason I'm telling you this is because you may have to put up with a few experiments over the next few days, so please just bear with me as I come to a resolution. The good new is, I am delighted with the background for my haiku blog, "Kigo of the Kat". (If you've not dropped in over there yet, I urge you to do so). Give it a try! My haiku/senryu are a little bit out of the ordinary.

I'm also pleased as punch with the background I've finally found for "Blasts From the Past". It's got the retrospective colour-scheme I've been searching for and accommodates my posts and sidebar very nicely. I realize I've been a bit slow with the Blast posts recently, but I hope to get back on track with more regular offerings soon.

That's the lowdown. I haven't lost my marbles—yet!

Kat

Theme Thursday: "Late"

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:16:00 +0000

Of Late

Lately,
I think of you—
my late one;
the latest question being,
do I disappoint you
with my crisis of faith?
A belated after-effect perhaps?
I test the bounds of freedom—
never quite losing my credo
altogether,
yet knowing
I can choose
to partake, or not
with no consequences
is heady stuff.
Later on,
I'm sure—
long before the need
for a death-bed confession,
I shall return
before it's too late.

Kat Mortensen©2009

Thank you.

poetikat46@yahoo.ca (Poetikat) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 11:55:00 +0000

Thank you all so much for your generous and sympathetic comments on my last two posts. You made the day so much more bearable for me and I will not forget it.

Sincerely,

Kat