This Dusty House

Chocolate Cream Cheese Crepes and Strawberries

2013-05-17T09:00:00.000-04:00

This is a paid post, sponsored by Philadelphia Chocolate Cream Cheese, through my involvement with SheBlogs Media.

However, all opinions in this post remain my own.

I love cheesecake. So much so that, for our wedding, instead of your traditional fluffy wedding cake covered in fondant, we had three different flavours of cheesecake cupcakes, all made and lovingly decorated by my mom. Every special occasion, I go for the cheesecake - the New York style one, though a good no-bake cherry cheesecake is pretty delightful too. I've even made one or two, with decent success.

So, you would think I would be really excited when I started to see billboards of Philly chocolate cream cheese spread popping up around town, right? After all, cream cheese and chocolate make a pretty awesome cheesecake. But, there's something about it on toast that doesn't seem right. Toast is crunchy, wheaty. Not quite right for the decadence of chocolate cheesecake.

And then I bought a tub. I experienced first hand the stroke of genius someone at Kraft had. Take cheesecake. Whip it up. Put it in a little tub.

But I'm going to suggest that it doesn't belong on toast. True, I haven't yet tried it on toast (maybe I'll save that for tomorrow morning), but there are for more majestic things this delicious chocolaty creamy decadence could go with. Baked into the middle of a breakfast muffin perhaps. Icing a cupcake. Mixed in to pancake batter. Or, on crepes. With strawberries.

Oh, these were so tasty. I'd even go so far as to say they were perfection. Perfectly chocolatey and perfectly sweet stuffed with just the right amount of strawberries and Philadelphia chocolate cream cheese.

This was, admittedly, my first time making real, authentic crepes. The Husband likes his pancakes thin, so whenever we have pancakes, I water down the batter just for him. But these were better than those. I used a tried and true recipe: the basic sweet crepe from the Joy of Cooking. The result was crepe-like, not anywhere close to a pancake. They were, bonus, way simpler than I expected them to be.

So, make these! Smear them with Philly, add some strawberries, roll it up and consume!

Sweet Crepes with Philadelphia Chocolate Cream Cheese and Strawberries
Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

1 cup flour
4 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/8 tsp salt
3 tbsp sugar

Philadelphia Chocolate Cream Cheese
strawberries, sliced

Whisk all ingredients together until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside for half an hour. This is the perfect amount of time to prep your toppings and clean up your kitchen a bit.

Spray a non-stick skillet with Pam or melt approximately 1 tsp of butter. Cook the crepes using about 1/4 cup of batter per crepe. The crepe is ready to be flipped when the middle of the crepe bubbles and the edges begin to look a little crispy.

I used a spatula to flip. If you're fancy, you might be able to flip it by tossing it in the air. That is beyond my capabilities. A spatula is just fine.

Cook on the second side until speckled golden brown.

Smear a bunch of chocolate Philly all over one side of the crepe. Add the strawberries in a line, preferably off-centred in the crepe for easy rolling. Roll, sprinkle with more strawberries, eat!

If you haven't tried it out yet, keep your eye out on Philly's Facebook page: I hear there's going to be a coupon on May 21st! On the facebook page, there are also details about a fun 'Breakfast in Bed' challenge you can participate in - a little social media arm-twisting to get someone special to serve you breakfast in bed!

Have you ever made crepes? Or are you more of a pancake person? Waffles, perhaps?

Have you tried the new Philly chocolate yet? Thoughts? Am I being unfair to the humble toast?

Warm blankets, Casseroles, and a Video

2013-05-16T10:25:00.002-04:00

This week has been a difficult one. Last Tuesday, a Facebook friend posted a photo of a missing person's notice sitting on the dash of his truck with the caption, "Heading out of find my buddy today." We all know the end of the story now.

I am grieving with the community of the Ancaster CRC.

One: Warm Blankets

Since we've been messing around with the attic and, effectively, removing all the insulation we have, and, since the weather has been unpredictable and nasty, it's been kind of difficult to control the heat in our house. It's cold upstairs or boiling downstairs, no in between.

This has me thinking about warm blankets, even though the weather is warming up. Warm blankets have me thinking about cool evenings sitting on the porch all wrapped up with a glass of wine or maybe a cup of tea. Those days are coming! In fact, they're here!

What I really want is one of these.

These blankets are made out of old saris. Shelley, the owner of dignify.ca, sent me a small sample of the blankets, and even in the little square format, I could tell they would be soft and cozy, perfect for cool spring nights.

Unfortunately, they're a little pricy for me right now. Instead, one of these days, I will get around to crocheting myself a good, full-sized afghan.

Two: Casseroles

Talk about comfort. Casseroles and I get along really well. I'm not exactly sure why, but I've come to realize that most of the meals I make involve more than one different kind of food all mixed together. Chicken, with potatoes, with veggies? Why wouldn't you put all of those things together in a casserole dish with some kind of gravy or white sauce and bake it for 25 minutes?

Chicken and asparagus in a cream wine sauce

Three: This Video

Worth a watch if you haven't seen it yet.

This Dusty Bookshelf: Drunk Mom by Jowita Bydlowska

2013-05-14T07:00:00.000-04:00

Drunk Mom: A Memoir
Jowita Bydlowska

This book is going to mean a lot to some people.

In the year after her son was born, Jowita Bydlowska relapsed into intense alcoholism. Three years after her recovery, her son now four years old, she's published this novel, a reflection, a walk-through of that year and everything she and her small family went through. She paints a clear brutal picture of addiction and the grip in which it can hold you.

I have never struggled with addiction - unless playing endless rounds of Candy Crush before bed counts, but I think that's the farthest thing from what Bydlowska and others who struggle with substance abuse experience - and I've never been a mom, so in some ways, I don't believe I experienced the full impact of the subject matter Bydlowska chose to address. She's received some flack for it with the critics, those who believe her memoir is nothing but a self-promoting exposé that will do nothing but hurt her son in the long run. I can't agree. Even though I can't relate to what Bydlowska went through, even though I know very little about alcoholism and have never experienced its painful impact, I know others, women, mothers, even children of alcoholics, to whom this book will become important, a reminder of the human behind the addiction.

Oh, so human it was.

Bydlowska chooses to approach the subject purely from a personal perspective. She leaves out research and statistics. She doesn't go into depth on ways to get clean, or the scientific explanation of what goes on during withdrawal and detox. Every word she writes is personal, experiential, a memoir in its truest sense.

Memoir or, perhaps, blog. When I started the first few pages, the first few chapters, I told the Husband, "I don't think I can handle this." It wasn't because of that gritty opening scene that finds her in a public bathroom snorting the cocaine she found in one of the stalls. It was because of the voice Bydlowska chose to write in.

You know that blog style?

The one in which the blogger separates out each sentence into its own paragraph?

As if each were so important, they need space around them.

Emphasis.

Could you handle a whole book of it?

I thought I wasn't going to be able to. Honestly. Two chapters in, I was nearly ready to drop kick the book onto the lowest shelf on my bookcase, the one that collects all the dog hair. The story held me though, and I'm so glad it did, because I realized, halfway through, that style - while slightly annoying - contributed something to the reader's own sense of drunkenness. That space between each idea? I was familiar with it. It felt like I was tipsy, floating just outside of any situation, taking longer than normal to absorb the scene and form a thought. As I turned the last page of the book, that writing style, which I was dead-set against in the first two chapters, made the book for me.

Read this one. It's worth it.

(Full disclosure: I received my copy of Drunk Mom from Randomhouse Canada for review purposes. However, when I review a book for a publishing house, I am not required to give it a glowing review. All opinions in all of my reviews are exclusively my own and not influenced by any outside party.

Thanks for the copy Randomhouse! I truly appreciate it.)

Project Attic of Awesome Update: Let There Be Dust!

2013-05-13T07:00:00.000-04:00

According to our schedule, by the end of Saturday, by the end of week 5 of this renovation, we should have accomplished the following:

Reinforce the ceiling joists with floor joists
Support the new floor joists with one ginormous beam
Rerun the existing electrical
Support the ginormous beam with posts and rip down the living room wall.

A little further explanation: in conjunction with this attic renovation, we planned to take a wall down on our main floor. Technically, our bungalow is a 2 bedroom, but, since we put a set of stairs in one of the bedrooms, it wasn't exactly useful space anymore. Logical solution? Rip down the wall and open it up to the living room. This was especially logical since we will still have a two bedroom house what with the beautiful attic suite we're going to end up with.

The problem with all this is that the wall we wanted to rip down is, surprise, surprise, a supporting wall. You're not exactly supposed to rip down supporting walls. Good thing I married a structural engineer. Hence, all that reinforcing we have worked into our reno plans.

On Saturday, when we woke up, we had half the attic floor to reinforce, the beam to build and the wall to rip down. And, unlike previous weeks when we had help from family, it was just the Husband and I. Saturday morning, I told the Husband I didn't want to go to bed until that wall was down.

The start of our beam. In the end, it was five 2x8s wide.

We worked hard. I became deft with the drill, finding any and all tasks that needed to be done but didn't necessarily require the strength of my Husband's arms or the use of power tools that have blades.* I hammered and drilled, wedged fresh wood into place, and nailed joist hangers, one after another. At 2 pm, we started on the posts downstairs. At 3 pm, we took the sawz-all to the wall.

We didn't finish cleaning up the dust until 10 pm.

But! The wall is down, and the long hours and the hard work was all so worth it. As our space emerged from the dust, it became clear just how worth it the change was. We should have done this a year ago, attic or no attic, second floor or no second floor. Suddenly, our house feels like a proper sized home. It doesn't feel abnormally small anymore. Sure, it's still small, but it doesn't feel tiny, doesn't feel cramped.

We're thrilled.

(Despite the swirls of dust that are going to take weeks to eradicate.)

* I cannot and never will be one of those women who approaches power tools that could take your hand off with confidence. Blades make me anxious. That said, I did pick up the sawz-all a time or two during the day. Even that was a nerve-wracking experience. It may not be very liberated of me, but if the husband wants to run the power tools, he's welcome too.

I can handle a drill well enough though.

Photo Friday Thank You

2013-05-10T09:12:00.001-04:00

Dear friends,

I have been so very humbled and blessed by you. Yesterday, I posted on a topic that I've put a lot of thought into, a decision that has been crucial in shaping who I am. I often find these posts difficult to write, second guessing my words, worrying that the way I say something will be misunderstood. Even when I am confident in each word conveying my ideas with strength and clarity, I worry about the person that will disagree, that will walk away offended and hurt. I am terrified of that person confronting me and ripping apart the words in a way I never intended for them.

But yesterday? You didn't all agree with my decision. Some of you didn't agree with anything I said in my post, I'm sure. And yet, you shared yourself with me. Your own ideas. Your own viewpoints. Your own perspectives. I am so grateful.

I am grateful that we are willing to talk about things that don't have one clear answer. I am grateful that we can accept each other with openness. I am grateful that you were willing to share your worldview and that, by doing so, my own was so deeply enriched.

So, thank you, all of you.

Jeanette

Commemorating Three Years with Some Last Name Talk

2013-05-09T11:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was our third wedding anniversary.

It was probably on our third date, maybe our fourth, that I told the then-boyfriend that I was planning on keeping my own last name whenever I got married. It was a deal breaker, I said, if he wasn't ok with that. Intense? Too soon? Maybe. But I'll be honest: I was looking for forever.

I also told him that if he ever asked my dad for permission to ask me to marry him, a) my dad wouldn't give it because obviously the boyfriend had no idea who I was, and b) we wouldn't be getting married.

Eight months later, the boyfriend became the fiance without parental approval. We were both 22. What did we need parental approval for?

At some point in the planning process, we had dinner with my grandmother: the then-fiance and I, my parents, and my dad's parents around the table. The topic of my last name came up. I don't know how. How doesn't matter. I confirmed what my parents already knew: I would be keeping my last name. This point had never been a topic of discussion. The then-fiance had known, right from the beginning of our relationship that I would not give up that counter-cultural decision. He knew that it was important to me.

Across the table from me, I could see my grandmother's face twisting.

"Oh," she said. She has a very specific way of saying it, a way that oozes disapproval.

"Yes. My last name is important to me. It's who I've been for the past 22 years. It connects me to my parents, my brother and sister. Why should I have to give it up?"

"But that is disrespectful to your husband," she said. So direct. So black and white.

I can't remember how I reacted. Did I laugh? Did I argue? The conversation moved on without me and never since have we acknowledged it.

The issue of women's names is a contentious one. After all, you could do the 'feminist thing' and keep the last name you grew up with but, hey, you know, that's your dad's last name. If you're trying to escape the bonds of patriarchy, you better come up with something all on your own. Or, take your mom's name. Or your great-aunt's. But that name doesn't mean as much to you? Well, I guess your shit out of luck. You can't win.

In my social circles, the issue tends to hardly come up. I belong to the Christian Reformed Church, which is progressive in some areas and not progressive enough in others. Among my friends, it is a point of pride to take on their husband's names, as if becoming a Mrs. elevates your social status, as if finally being free of the stigma of single-hood* allows them to fully embrace adulthood. It's assumed that, at the end of a ceremony, you will be two people joined by one name. No other option is considered.

But why not?

Biblically, people didn't even have last names.

Don't get me wrong: I will never look down on someone for taking her husband's last name. Some of the time, I wonder myself if it might be nice to share that one name with the Husband. It's a choice for which there is no right answer except for the one that is right for you.

But, sometimes, I fall into wishing. Wishing that one of my friends might make the same choice I did. Wishing that my church could get my name right in the birthday list in the bulletin. Wishing we would stop getting mail for a woman that doesn't exist. Wishing that my grandmother would recognize how personal and important that decision is to me.

I can tell you this: we have been married for three years and we haven't shared a name for any of it. We are no less a family, no less committed, no less respectful, no less ready to tackle the rest of our lives together.

Happy Anniversary to us!

Tell me, did you keep your last name, or, if you're not married, do you want to if you do get married? Did you put much thought into the decision? Have you run into resistance to it?

* Single-hood and the stigma is a whole 'nother topic, especially if you want to talk about single-hood and the church. But, I would probably be stepping way out of my league there.

Attic of Awesome Update: Inspiration

2013-05-07T15:40:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, my dad drove to the big city, picked up a hitchhiker on the way, and joined the Husband in the attic with a roll of wire and whatever other tools one uses to run electrical.

I puttered around in the garden.

image via

We are still nicely on track. This weekend, together, they got the existing electrical re-run, so the existing wires were run through the floor joists instead of on top of them. They also had to move an existing switch off the wall we're planning on taking down.

The hardest parts of the job are slowly getting finished. We can look around now and say, "Ah, subfloor will be down in just two weeks. And, once the subfloor is down? Is only a matter of a little drywall. We're almost done."

image via

Drywall. And maybe a little beadboard. We'll also have to make decisions about lights soon. Windows. Wall colour. Ceiling colour. Stairs - the material, the finish.

Who am I kidding? We have so far to go yet.

image via

But the hard parts, the structural stuff, the guts? Those are almost done. Or, at least, that's what I like to think.

Nine more weeks to go.

Week 3: Project Attic of Awesome

2013-05-03T09:57:00.002-04:00

The attic really doesn't look like much yet, but, believe it or not, we're slowly getting through the most difficult, most involved, most complicated bits of the project.

When the house was originally built, despite the adorable dormer the builder added to the roof, it was not designed to be living space. Most attics are like this: ceiling joists are a lot less robust than floor joists because they don't really have to support much. Attics tend to be built with ceiling joists. And then filled with insulation. And never seen again. This means that, since we want to make the attic a living space, we have no choice but to reinforce the ceiling joists with 2 by 6 boards. If we didn't, a) we wouldn't pass inspection by a long shot and b) we would fall through the floor. Maybe not right away. But eventually.

On top of that, we want to take out a wall on the main floor. And, guess what? It's a supporting wall! This is where being married to an engineer who has connections to the house building business comes in really handy. This process involves building two temporary walls - one on each side of that supporting wall - to hold up the ceiling while we take down the supporting wall and slide in a beam.

See? It's all very complicated.

At this point, we're here:

We've reinforced the roof and framed in our 'closets' at the same time. Half of the ceiling joists have been reinforced.

We've carved our stairwell out of the floor, adding in a beam - and removed the temporary wall we built, pictured here, when we were finished.

This week, hopefully we'll get a set of temporary stairs put up so I'll actually be willing to brave the floor joists. It's a lot easier pulling yourself into a small attic opening than it is a large stairwell opening.

This week is also the electrical week! The past couples weekends, we've had the Husband's dad and brother out to help us. This weekend, my dad is rolling up his sleeves and setting his mind to the logic and symmetry of circuits and switches.

Ah, progress. We're getting there!

This Dusty Bookshelf: The Invisible Girls by Sarah TheBarge

2013-05-02T11:54:00.000-04:00

Somehow, I've gotten trapped in a cycle of books that have kept my morning commutes occupied but that have grated on my in one way or another. I want to read a book that I can say I gobbled up, a book I can say that I loved because of this, this, this, and this, a book that was everything I wanted it to be.

This was not that book. The more I read, the more I'm likely to find it, right?

(Unfortunately, the book I'm currently reading, Drunk Mom by Jowita Bydlowska is also not that book. But, let's not get ahead of myself.)

Or, perhaps, the more critical I am to become.

The Invisible Girls
By Sarah TheBarge

A memoir. I seem to be reading more memoirs these days than I have at any other point in my life. Maybe it's because more people are writing them? Or because people are taking memoir more seriously? Or because I'm taking memoir more seriously now that I've hit the wise, old age of 26? Probably, it partially has something to do with the rise of blogs and the coveted blog-to-book-deal dream.

I think this one was a blog-to-book-deal. At least, TheBarge mentions a blog. I tried to find it, but all I found was a wiped template with a few pages advertising the book. Now that a publisher is paying her for her story, the blog is dead.

This makes me sad for blogs.

Sarah TheBarge does have quite the story, and certainly a story that belong on paper, reaching more people than her blog would have, perhaps. At the age of 27, her life fell apart when she discovered blood on her shirt and, upon squeezing her breast, realize something was very very wrong. A double mastectomy. And then, it recurred. Essentially, TheBarge lived through a nightmare.

A few years later, in a new city, trying to restart her life, she meets a Somalian woman and her children on a bus and a new part of her story begins as she gets to know the family and helps them survive in the new and unfamiliar country.

It was a touching story. Emotional. Difficult to read. There were times I had to close the book on my commute home or face the embarrassment of crying on the subway. But, this book is also problematic in two very different ways.

1) Are you familiar with the White Saviour Complex? Admittedly, I was warned before I started this book that its pages are filled with it, so perhaps it was all the more glaring for me, this idea that Westerners, specifically white westerners, will save Africa, that, without us, they will be lost, suffering savages. This complex is generally attached to the attitude of Westerners when they go to African countries, but I couldn't ignore its presence in this book as well. TheBarge muses more than once about what would have happened to Hadhi, the Somalian woman, and her children if she hadn't met them on the bus that day. The problem with this? Hadhi is not empowered by TheBarge's attitude. Her work to care for her children, to eke out a life for them in this new place goes unacknowledged.

I would never say that we shouldn't acknowledge our privilege and recognize that we can help those who struggle here at home or in other countries. I'm not saying that TheBarge should have ignored this family on the bus. I'm not saying that she shouldn't have done all the things she did, bringing them gifts, helping them make ends meet. But her attitude about what she was doing irked me. Help, yes, but don't assume that you are the only thing protecting them from sure death and suffering.

2) TheBarge grew up in a strict Baptist community. The book is strongly Christian, which, being a Christian myself, I actually enjoyed. She makes some beautiful realizations about God and suffering as she struggles with her illness and her relationships. But, as she described her upbringing, her church, and the community in which she was raised, I became frustrated with what she wasn't saying. She shrugged off the emotional abuse, in one breath using it for shock value and in another, dismissing the actions of others as normal, as not their fault, as justified and rationalized. She holds the hurt of being abandoned by her church community and her boyfriend as she struggled through treatment at arms length, unwilling to acknowledge how absolutely shitty they were to her. It bothered me. Sometimes, I think people use religion as an excuse to be terrible to their kids, their spouses, those who are, in some way, under their control and no one ever holds them to their actions.

At the end of the book, I felt a little bit like TheBarge wasn't necessarily ready to write her story yet. It felt raw at times, but at others, she seemed to be holding the reader or her experience at arms length, laying out facts and actions without exploring them further, without letting the reader into the deep, gut-wrenching pain she must have gone through. Her journey was powerful, but in this book, I don't think she allowed it be.

Project Attic of Awesome: We Have Too Much Furniture

2013-04-30T09:41:00.003-04:00

This weekend included yet another productive Saturday in the attic. At this point, we have:

Reinforced the roof to remove all the posts that were in the way.
Created the stair hole. (Holy crap, there's a great big hole in my dining room ceiling.)
Reinforced half of the ceiling joists to become floor joists in the attic.

It doesn't look like much right now, so I have no pictures for you. This is also partially due to my slight fear of falling which currently makes getting in and out of the attic a little inconvenient, especially with my camera in hand. Soon, however, we will have a set of temporary stairs that will make it all so much easier.

Today, I wanted to talk instead about what's going on in the rest of our house.

Since we knew that this weekend would involve the dining room in some way or another, on Friday, we rolled up our sleeves and cleared the whole room out. Furniture-wise, this meant a bookcase, a dresser, a fish tank, and two arm chairs. The table and chairs? We left them there, knowing they would be easy to move as we worked.

Where on earth was all this furniture going to go in our tiny little house?

Here:

The bookshelf found a new home on a postage stamp of space beside our couch and the armchairs got shoved between the couch and the counter top and then piled with various things that used to live near our washer and dryer (which will be under the new set of stairs) or stored on top of the book shelf.

The fish tank found a new home here:

And the dresser, now piled high with boxes that used to be hidden away under it and more boxes that used to live on top of the bookcase, here:

Now, imagine all that with a thin layer of dust, the kind that you can sweep three times without completely conquering it. The kind that seems to still be settling on every surface three days later.

We're living in chaos.

But then, I remind myself that a) it's only temporary and b) when we're all done, I'm going to have 300 square feet more to play with. A whole extra room to allow this stuff space. Two closets to finally store linens and table clothes and couch covers properly. Two closets to store boxes of files that have never had a proper home, and to hide away craft supplies, and fish supplies, and extra computer cords.

A little discomfort, a little chaos? It's worth it.

Update: Project Attic of Awesome

2013-04-26T12:30:00.000-04:00

Last weekend was a big weekend. The first weekend of the real work on our attic conversion project.

It was a great day. This is why:

At 8:30, I climbed into the driver's side of our little car and drove 1.5 hours to a neighbouring city and spent the whole day visiting with my best friend. She and her husband just announced to the world that a little bundle of joy will be joining their family in a few months, making me an aunt for a second time*, so I was excited to see her and spend time talking about all the things best friends talk about when they're facing huge life changes.

We had brunch. We went thrifting. We ate greasy mall food. We snuggled under an afghan and ate cherry blasters and dreamed and giggled and settled into each others' comfortable presence. It was the perfect day.

Oh, you thought this post would be about the attic?

It is!

While I was reconnecting with my oldest and best friend, Some of the most important bits were happening at home. The original crew (minus one) that helped us out two years ago when we were working hard to make our house liveable, came to visit. By the time I got home, they had fully reinforced and supported the roof joists so they could remove the posts that run down the centre of the space and the beam under the dormer. These ones:

Now, it's way more open, way more spacious, and I can finally see it all coming together.

This weekend? The husband's dad is coming to visit again! This partially means another Saturday off for me. They may need a third set of hands, but my clumsy inexperience may very well just be in the way. So, while I putter around, getting groceries, baking muffins for breakfasts, working in the garden, they'll be working away at more framing. They'll be cutting out the hole in the attic joists for the stairs, and, hopefully, adding a beam in under the joists so we can remove the supporting wall.

We'll see how far we get!

* No, my best friend is not technically my sister, so I guess, if you want to get all biological, I'm not going to be an aunt for the second time. But, does one really need to share a genetic make-up in order to have a sister-like relationship? I love her like a sister, so it only makes sense that I'll love her little one like I love my nephew.

This Dusty Bookshelf: Seven Good Reasons Not To Be Good by John Gould

2013-04-23T13:16:00.000-04:00

It's been a while, hmm? Not much of a reason. I've been busy, but technically not too busy. I've been crocheting instead of blogging. Working hard at my 9-5 instead of blogging. Reading instead of blogging. Visiting the very best of friends instead of blogging. Snuggling in with the Husband and Netflix instead of blogging. Y'know. Living.

I know you're all waiting for an update on the attic progress. I'll get to that. But not today. Today, a book review!

Seven Good Reason Not To Be Good
By John Gould

Let's start with a synopsis. Matt travels from Vancouver, where his marriage is quickly dying because his wife is cheating on him with the coffee shop girl, to Toronto, where his best friend has contracted AIDS and has decided to allow the disease to run its course uninhibited. Matt goes to save his friend, to convince him that life is worth living, that what he's doing isn't virtuous, as Zane seems to be claiming it is, and, if it is, well, virtue is vice.

By the way, Matt is a film critic. No, wait. a film kritik.

I picked up this book because of the author. I read Kilter: 55 Fictions by John Gould in university, in a contemporary Canadian literature course taught by my favourite professor. I enjoyed it well enough, enough that when I found this book at the library, I was a little excited to give his full length fiction a try.

It was well-written, and there are parts of this book that will stay with me. But this book was a slog. I wasn't excited to pull it out of my bag each morning and each afternoon on the subway. When I reached the middle of the book I was already writing a trashing review in my head. But, as I came out on the other side, at the last page, I discovered an appreciation for it, discovered, in fact, that I almost liked the affect it left behind.

Here was the problem: I didn't like Matt. Matt was pretentious. Matt was the kreative kritik, so above his own role, so entitled, that he didn't even identify himself as a critic. And, since I was being shown the world through Matt's eyes, everything in the book was covered in this slimy layer of pretension. His childhood, his relationships, his messed up marriage, his one-night stands, all of it, Gould seemed to be holding up in a way designed to deliberately push, to shock, maybe, as if to hold up this character as the epitome of art, as if to say, "This is the lifestyle of an artist."

Oh, artifice. I wonder if that's exactly what Gould was doing, building purposeful layers of artifice over Matt's character in order to pull them away. I didn't see it though: Matt never completely loses his pretentious character. But as the novel draws to a close, Gould seems to work in a few truly honest moments with Matt. Through other characters, Gould adds some new layers to Matt's character, layers that go beyond 'The Artist' and dig deeper into 'The Human, The Man, The Friend, The Son, The Lover'.

Is this book worth the read? Yes. It's set in Toronto, which I love, and the writing is strong. And, it covers all sorts of issues and themes - AIDS, homosexuality, infertility, morality, fidelity, home and coming home. But, be prepared to struggle with an unlikable character and some assumptions about what it means to be immersed in creativity. It's a book to be read carefully, critically, watching for nuance and artifice. It's not, maybe, a book to consume, but rather a book to pull you in to deeper engagement with words, life, death, and virtue.

Project Attic Conversion of Awesome: The Beginning!

2013-04-12T10:45:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, we start.

Well, really, we're not starting until next week, but we're laying down the groundwork this weekend.

We'll be spending the morning up here in this slightly dark foreboding place, cleaning up all up, sorting it all out. Then, we'll be off to one of our favourite hardware stores for wood. Lots and lots of wood. And electrical cable. But mostly just wood.

It's the official kick-off.

This is our timeline. We're not frozen to it. It's not set in stone. And, we can identify a myriad of places where we'll get off track. But, that ok. At least, once we get started, there will be no going back, no changing our minds. At least, once we start, we have no choice but to finish.

A Reno Timeline for Project Attic Conversion of Awesome

Week 1: Clean-up and purchase materials.

Week 2: Support ceiling joists and remove the downstairs wall by adding a floor beam and column posts.

Week 3: Reinforce ceiling joists to become floor joists.

Week 4: Re-run existing electrical

Week 5: Reinforce roof joists.

Week 6: Frame the walls and put down glorious, glorious subfloor.

Week 7: Run new electrical and, potentially, re-run some existing plumbing lines we roughed in during our last reno.

Week 8: Insulate. Spray foam!

Week 9: Build and install stairs.

Week 10: Drywall.

Week 11: Mud and sand

Week 12: Paint.

Week 13: Put down flooring and finish off with trim.

In an effort to keep us to it, I now declare Fridays Project Attic-Conversion-of-Awesome Update Day! It needs a better name, I know. Please, leave your suggestions in the comments!

After this weekend, our little home will be returning to the state of this blog's namesake... bring on the construction dust!

Three Things for Thursday: Dog Beds, Dog Toys, Dog Treats, Dog Days

2013-04-11T10:15:00.000-04:00

Dog Beds

A few weeks ago, Design Sponge shared a pet bed tutorial and I fell in love with it.

image via Design Sponge

It's nothing I couldn't have figured out on my own, of course, but there's something about having someone else show you how to make something so simple that inspires you to at least want to do it. And Kingsley desperately needs a new bed. We bought him a cheap, $25 one back when he first got too big for a his crate. It's full of holes now and not nearly as much stuffing.

I think I'll leave off that leather strap though. He would only see it as a chew toy.

Dog Toys

Speaking of leather, I wonder how well it would work for creating dog toys.

image via Fancy

Would the dogs have them mangled, destroyed and eaten in a matter of a few minutes as they do with most rawhide bones? Or, would a thick, tough leather be durable enough, in the right shape, to stand up to their vicious little teeth?

I expect it would be an epic fail and a waste of perfectly good leather. I will forever be on the hunt for the perfect, enthralling, inexpensive, indestructible dog toy.

I know, I'm asking too much.

Dog Treats

While we're on the theme of homemade things for dogs...

image via A Muse in My Kitchen

I've been meaning to make homemade dog treats for a long time. But, you know how it is, right? I don't want to make them while we still have a huge box of Milkbones to work through, but, suddenly, we're out, we have none to give the dogs when we leave the house or go to bed and they're looking for their daily treat. And, so, another box of Milkbones makes its way into our house.

One day, though, I will make these. Especially since I could make them a cookie I could share with them!

Softsoap Gift Basket: Giveaway Winner!

2013-04-10T20:47:00.000-04:00

Random.org picked comment #53 as the winner of the Softsoap gift basket.

So, I counted up from the bottom, since my comment platform orders the comments newest to oldest and came up here:

Congratulations Miss T! Check your email!

A Toronto Real Estate Tale: What Were They Thinking?

2013-04-08T08:00:00.000-04:00

Two year ago, when we found ourselves house hunting for our very first home, this house was the house that got away.

MLS, two years ago

Everyone's got one, I'm sure. The funny thing is, though, we never even got a chance to see it. It was a mix of bad timing - there were already two offers on it by the time we entered the game - and our own lack of experience with how the real estate thing works. But somehow, it became The House anyway.

This is possibly because this house is within decent walking distance from our house and, occassionally, we stroll past it on walks with the dogs. We know now that it's a good thing we didn't consider it - it's on a busy street full of cars and buses that, back before we were familiar with the neighbour, we knew nothing about. We've found watching this house to be somewhat painful none-the-less.

This is why:

MLS

Two year ago, a builder bought the house. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with builders buying bungalows and topping them up. We were going to do it, after all! There's a builder down our street who's doing a phenomenal job of topping up a bungalow.

But this one?

It started out so cute. That round door! Those double peaks!

And it ended up so... so... box-like. Every smidge of character has been wiped out and they couldn't even be bothered to do something with the upstairs windows to make them look a little less lopsided. The busy stonework, the understatement of the bay window, it all makes me shake my head, just slightly sad at what could have been.

Oh. The kicker? The price tag they've added to this box of a house. They're asking a solid $400,000 more than it was listed for 2 years ago, substantially overpriced for the neighbourhood and the street it's on.

I'm sure it will sell, eventually, and I'm sure whoever buys it will love it and enjoy it just as it is. It's beautifully finished inside, after all. But I will always remember it as the adorable little bungalow we wish we could have bought.

Our garage: White and brown and shedding shingles

2013-04-06T14:33:00.002-04:00

Our garage needs help.

Proof:

Technically, it's bones are pretty good. It's not leaning awkwardly or anything. But its roof is peeling right off, and I find it just an ugly building. It's too close to the house and we can't even use it as a garage anyway - we can't get a car down our teeny tiny driveway. On top of all that, the electrical went out in the garage last summer and we can't figure out why and aren't ready to call in an electrician to fix it. Sometimes I fantasize about ripping the whole thing down and rebuilding something better.

Maybe something like this:

Garage door by Garaga

On the other hand, the husband wants to do something like this with the garage:

How's that for adding square footage to our home?

Three Things for Thursday: A Miscellaneous Room

2013-04-04T10:34:00.001-04:00

Once our attic bedroom is finished, we'll be vacating our current tiny little bedroom for the more spacious, and unique space upstairs. Of course, this means our current bedroom will be empty, a blank canvas full of possibility.

Unfortuantely, I know that filling it is going to be one of the easiest things in the world. We have three options. Somehow, I want this miscellaneous room to work hard enough that it can be all three in one.

One: The Office

image via Martha Stewart

I've been waiting for an office space for a long time. Somewhere I can close myself off from distractions and write. Or, a proper space in which I can work from home every so often. A space to organize the lives we lead on paper. A space for calendars and blank books full of inspiration. A space to corale our cords and our bills and our pay stubs and our reminders from the vet to get our pets' shots updated.

Two: The Guest Bedroom

Image via Pottery Barn

This is an explicit request from my parents, but they can't take full credit for our desire for a place to put overnight guests. Many of our friends and all of our family lives a couple hours away from us. It can be frustrating, not having a bed to offer for longer visits. We'd love to change the situation.

Unfortunately, we know a full bed isn't an option unless we never want to use the room for anything other than a guest bedroom. As it is, nothing fits in our bedroom other than our queen-sized bed and two bedside tables. There's hardly even space to get dressed in the morning. So, perhaps a sofa bed is the answer.

Three: The Music Room

image via Crazy Wonderful

This desire has been recently rekindled. I've talked before about my itch to get a piano back in my life. For a long time, I've managed to stifle it. This past weekend, however, the husband and I helped my best friend move into her brand new house. The husband flexed his muscles and helped struggle her apartment-sized piano up a full flight of stairs into her living room. I may have felt a little twinge of jealousy as she carefully dusted it off.

Where is the space for all this in our tiny little house, though?

Review and Giveaway: SoftSoap skin is in™!

2013-04-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

A couple weeks ago, a giant box landed on my doorstep. Inside was a cellophane wrapped basket full of bright blue paper straw and soap. So much soap.

Nine bottles to be exact.

And not a-one the same.

Ever since, I've been grabbing a different soap every shower, trying each one out. Softsoap has always been one of my favourite soaps. I have some pretty intense eczema on my legs, so I appreciate a soap that doesn't do its best to turn my skin into a dry, flaky Sahara. My grocery store only stocks maybe one or two fragrances, so, undoubtedly, I end up coming home with the Strawberry Scrub.

My favourite scent now? Black Orchid and Velvet Hibiscus. Holy crap, it's like showering in an exotic jungle of a shower. It's followed closely by Heavenly Vanilla, so indulgent, so delightful.

Softsoap has generously offered to give one of my readers a basket of their own! It comes with all of these intense fragrances:

Want a basket?

Entering the Softsoap Skin is in™ giveaway couldn't be easier. Just leave a comment! Make sure you leave your email address so I can contact you should you be the lucky winner!

For an additional entry on top of that, share this giveaway on Twitter or Facebook! Leave a comment letting me know that you shared it.

There's just one condition: this giveaway is only open to Canadian residents.

The giveaway will run for 7 days - closing on April 9 at midnight! - so make sure you come back next week Wednesday to find out who won!

In the meantime, if you can't wait, snag the coupon found here and pick up a bottle for yourself. (There's also a whack of other coupons at that site, so definitely check it out!)

Disclosure: This is a paid post through my involvement with SheBlogs Media. I was given the soap for review purposes; however, all opinions are exclusively my own.

How the shoe industry confuses me

2013-04-02T09:09:00.001-04:00

I bought three pairs of shoes last night. They're cute enough, three pairs of flats to bring life back to my sad shoe collection. The dogs, as much as I love them, have done a number on almost every pair I own. My flats, especially, since they get worn more often and therefore, left in more easily accessible places, seem to have taken the brunt of the doggy beatings. As spring has hesitantly started to peak out at us, I came to the realization that I had no flats to get me out of my winter boots.

So, I went to Ardene and bought three pairs of cute flats. Three pairs for $15.

Usually, I buy cheap shoes - I'll be the first to say it. I love shoes, but I don't want to spend a lot of money on them. This is partially because of those aforementioned puppies and their teeth. Of course, this means that the shoes I buy end up falling apart by the end of the season.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm doing it wrong. Would it ultimately be cheaper to buy more expensive shoes? Would I have to replace them as often, or could I wear them year after year? And, would I want to? Would a more expensive shoe actually be more comfortable than the cheapies I pick up at jewelry stores for kids?

Last night, I bought $5 shoes. There's no way I can see that buying a more expensive shoe will actually save me money. I'll stick with these for now and face the decision again next year.

(Once, I bought a gorgeous pair of flats with buckles wrapped across the toe. They were from Le Chateau, originally, perhaps, $60, but on sale from the outlet, so I think I got them for $20. Wore them once. That Saturday morning, Mocha proudly brought them to us in bed, the toe chewed right off. I cried. They were the last good quality pair of flats I have ever bought.)

What's your shoe philosophy? Do you buy the cheapest you can find or splurge so your feet will be happy? Should I take the plunge and spend a decent amount of money on a pair of good quality shoes?

This Dusty Kitchen: How To Make Soup, From Scratch, Without A Recipe

2013-04-01T07:25:00.001-04:00

I fell in love with cooking when I started making soup. It was then that I discovered the vast realm of possibilities that cooking held, then that I realized I could do anything with good ingredients and a little technical know-how.

I often make soup on Sunday afternoons. It's become a leisure activity of sorts, a way in which I celebrate the Sabbath, making myself quietly well acquainted with my kitchen, my knives, cutting boards, pots, and the vegetables left in my fridge after the week. I rarely use a recipe, instead taking stock of what I have, what needs to be used up, and going from there.

Making soup without a recipe is easy.

Start with oil, onions, and garlic.

This step is common to pretty much every one of my soups. It's a good way to start, to break the cooking cobwebs off my fingers if I haven't done much of note in the kitchen all week. Saute the onions and garlic together until the onions are nice and translucent.

Add meat.

Or don't. You could add beans instead. Or no protein-like thing at all. I added ham leftover from our Good Friday ham, graciously supplied by my parents.

Add veggies.

I went with broccoli. One head.

Add your favourite herbs and let it all cook together for a bit.

(Add more oil if necessary.)

I added basil and parsley. You could add anything though. Curry, perhaps. Rosemary. A bay leaf.

Decide what kind of soup you want.

Brothy or pureed? Just add water or broth.
Creamy? Add flour. Or corn starch to keep it gluten free.

I added flour (5 tbsp or so), cooked it for a couple minutes (stirring constantly!) then slowly added 6 cups of water, stirring constantly to make sure none of the flour clumped up.

Add bouillon.

I went with a vegetable bouillon. If you use broth in the step above, obviously you can skip this bit. But, bouillon and I get along well.

Simmer.

This is the step that leaves plenty of time for cleaning your now messy kitchen. If you want.

Add cream.

That is, if you're making a creamy soup or a creamy pureed soup, the very last step is to add cream. Remove it from the heat first - cream doesn't necessarily like being cooked.

Serve!

Oh, it was so tasty. A creamy broccoli soup with chunks of ham? You can't go wrong. You can make any soup though. Don't tell me you don't know how to cook, or that when you do you must follow a recipe exactly. Switch out the ham for beans, the broccoli for carrot, the creamy soup for a brothy soup, add a handful or two of pasta when you're letting it simmer, and, voila, you have a whole new creation.

Do you have any favourite soup making techniques?

Three Things for Thursday: My Skin, A Pretty Attic, and An Amazing Reno

2013-03-28T10:10:00.002-04:00

One: My Skin

My skin sucks. This is largely because I'm not so good at taking care of it. I hate getting my face wet unless I'm getting the rest of me wet too, which means I hate washing my face unless I'm taking a shower. Usually, it's not too bad. I don't get any crazy teenaged break-outs anymore. But my skin isn't super delightfully smooth to the touch, and my pores? Well. My pores. Let's not talk about them too much, shall we?

When I started the Insanity workouts a couple weeks ago (I will talk more about this, in depth, soon! I promise!), my skin went nuts. So angry. The space between my eyebrows flaired up red and my cheeks became even more speckled. I responded by ditching all my make-up altogether in an effort to keep my skin clear and clean as much as possible. Of course, this meant I was walking around with no cover up on those little, angry red pimples at all.

Do you know how freeing that feels?

I slept in a full 15 minutes longer.

I could rub my eyes as much as I wanted. (I rub my eyes a lot.)

I could scratch an itch on my chin without filling my fingernail with powder.

My skin cleared up, slowly, but surely. It's back to its normal, imperfect but bearable self and I've started throwing on a little mascara, a little blush again, before I run out the door. I haven't, yet, been able to return to my full routine of foundation, powder, bronzer, blush, eyeliner, and mascara.

Perhaps one day, I'll remember why I established that routine in the first place.

(I feel like I just wrote an article for Seventeen magazine. Though, I suppose if I had written an article for Seventeen magazine, there would be a whole list of products that everyone should be using and the moral of the story would be wash your face and moisturize, both things I'm not very good at doing.)

(I take that back. I moisturize daily. Mostly because I can't stand dry skin.)

Two: An Attic in Blue

Image via Donna Magazine

Of course I have attics on the brain. I'm sure you would expect no less of me, considering everything I've been talking about this week. This one is gorgeous. And blue, which seems to be the colour scheme I'm leaning towards. This also makes me wonder how expensive it would be to add in two pretty round windows, one at each end.

Three: An Amazing Reno

Image via Realty Queen TO

This renovation was recently featured on Houzz. It's gorgeous, one of those examples of a typical Toronto home that's been perfectly, delightfully renovated. This one has been done by a blogger I've been following for almost as long as I've been blogging, Aleksandra Oleksak. I love it, particularly the brick walls. We would love to have so much beautifully warm brick in our house. (Check out more of the reno here!)

Obviously, brick makes no sense in our little wooden house, so even a faux brick wall is out. But one day, one day we'll live in a brick house and it will have a brick interior wall.

And a fireplace.

Season of the Rainbirds by Nadeem Aslam

2013-03-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

My voracious reading has slowed. In some ways, I blame the distraction of the Tim Hortons gift card I got for my birthday. It's harder to read on the subway when you're juggling a hot coffee that's burning your hand even though you got a double cup, a big yellow shoulder bag containing your lunch and all the little bits of things you need to get through your commute and your day, and a book.

In some ways, I also blame this book. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?

Season of the Rainbirds

by Nadeem Aslam

Set in a primarily Islamic remote village in Pakistan, this novel begins with the murder of a prominent man in the community and centres around letters, lost in a train crash 19 years ago, found again. As the people of the village wait for the letters to be delivered, rumours run rampant.

I thought I would love this book. After all, I have come to absolutely adore books that centre on a culture I'm completely unfamiliar with. I love digging into the daily lives of other people, being given an 'in' into a world that is otherwise inaccessible to me. It was very well written, but it lost me in two places:

One: Who was the main character?I suppose you could make the claim that Maulana Hafeez, one of two religious leaders in town, is the main character. But the novel also jumped to the perspective of the barber, the lawyer, the deputy commissioner, the teacher... I'm sure I'm missing a few. On one hand, this provided a well-rounded view of the town. On the other hand, it was confusing, but even worse, held the reader at a distance, unable to get to know and really sympathize with any one character.

Two: Where were the women?

Rarely did Aslam write from the perspective of the town's women. Sure, they're there. Mourning. Cooking. Cleaning up water lizards from every nook and cranny of the village's homes. One is even breaking the rules, a Christian woman, living out of wedlock with a Muslim man. But their voices are missing from the pages of this book.

I understand that this may be indicative of the culture, and it may, actually, say something about me that I require the perspective of a woman in order to enjoy a novel. I also understand that neither of these issues make this a bad book. These issues do, however, make this a book that will never make my top 10 list.

What are you reading these days?

(Disclosure: Random House of Canada provided me with a copy of this novel for review purposes. Thanks Random House! Obviously, these are still my own opinions.)

An Attic Moodboard

2013-03-26T09:00:00.000-04:00

For now, we've given up on the idea of finding ourselves a new, larger home in the Toronto real estate market and moving in order to improve our space issues. We've also given up on the idea of a huge renovation that would have given us three new bedrooms and a bathroom. In other words, we haven't yet addressed the fact that we have no space to grow in this tiny, one bedroom bungalow.

Some day, we're going to want to grow our family. We have to figure something out.

Many months ago, before the idea of a full-size top-up ever came about, we were considering a smaller scale renovation, a high-end attic conversion including a master bathroom and walk-in closet. Our attic is decent for it, with a high enough ceiling and dormers already in place.

Since we originally considered this option, we've moved through a whole bunch of other ideas and plans. When everything relating to our 'raise-the-roof' project fell through, the husband brought the attic up again with a kind of sad little laugh. After all, if we had tackled the project when we had originally come up with the idea over a year ago, we would be happily settled into our master suite by now.

I try not to think about that too much.

Right now, we're in the drawings phase. The husband has been slogging through the details getting it ready for permit. It's a simpler design than it's original conception. Just a bedroom, a set of stairs rising up into an empty space with storage and closets along the low walls. No bathroom. No walk-in closet.

It will, I hope, be gorgeous none-the-less. I envision bright white walls and lots of soft fabrics and rugs making it a warm, inviting space to spend time in. Soft blues and yellows. Strong, natural woods.

In an effort to get excited about something that still seems to be so far off, something that still seems to be in the conception stage, not yet part of reality, I made a moodboard!

Bedside tables from West Elm.
A rug from Rugs USA.
Drapes from West Elm
A bed with a beautiful dark wood grain from EQ3.
Pillows from Tonic Living.
Table lamps from West Elm.

This plan gives us one more room and a few more years in this house. Whenever I describe our decision, I describe it like this: we've decided to decide in a couple years. We putting off the big changes, but we know, that one day, they'll have to come. Some day, not too far in the future, we'll be looking around this little house as the walls close in for a second time.

We'll figure out what we're going to do when that time comes.

Giving Up On Toronto Real Estate

2013-03-25T09:00:00.000-04:00

We love real estate. When we bought our house two years ago, we never really stopped examining the market. Over the past few months, we've been considering our financial situation, our housing situation, and the real estate market. Now, since we've poured a decent amount of elbow grease into our house and since we've been aggressively paying down our mortgage and saving our pennies, we think we're ready for our next real estate adventure.

We put a bid in on a cheap fixer-upper close to our neighbourhood. We lost the bidding war by $100,000.

Then, we put a bid in on our dream house in our dream location. We lost that bidding war by $100,000 too.

It's been frustrating, but we aren't ready to give up. Instead, we're getting creative. We're considering leaving the Toronto real estate market behind and investing our hard-earned cash into income property in a much smaller city. So, Saturday found us shaking hands with a new real estate agent and following his Cadillac around town to four different multi-family homes. It was an experience, full of walking in on surprised tenants, turning a blind eye to messy apartments and the smell of cigarette smoke, and exploring the bowels of rarely organized retail buildings.

We haven't made a decision yet. It feels almost odd, not making a decision right away. In Toronto, real estate moves fast. Sometimes, it feels like you have to make a decision before you finish touring the place. Out there though? All of these buildings have languished on the market for months with no buyers in sight. So, we're taking our time. We have financials to consider. Other options to compare. Things to talk about.

I know this change in plans may have some of you confused. After all, one of our motivations for getting serious about house hunting was the fact that our house is tiny and starting to drive us crazy. Buying an apartment building in a city we don't live in is not going to fix that problem.

Renovating our attic and ripping out a main floor wall certainly will though.