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It’s summer dance camp time, and every night this week I’m taking an hour of can can dancing (a great aerobic workout) followed by an hour of sass (think the Pussycat Dolls with more class and a bit of burlesque thrown in). Both classes are all about attitude and using what the Creator gave all us women. For me, it’s a bit of an antidote to a lifetime of media messages that my hips and butt aren’t small enough, my boobs aren’t big enough, my skin isn’t smooth enough, my face isn’t pretty enough and my stomach isn’t flat enough.
You might think of me as just a rather frumpy looking middle-aged mother of three, but last night on the dance floor, I got my sexy back!
Joe and I have completely different cooking styles and preferences. He likes to make rich hearty ‘old country’ meals. He has a knack for the kind of soups and stews that you dream about coming home to on a cold winter day. I cook much lighter and lean towards using more vegetables and less fat. Unless we’re having company, we rarely ‘coordinate’ our meals. He’ll cook something he feels like and I’ll do the same; it makes for some interesting meals that have a potluck feel to them.
For instance, yesterday we had a couple of pieces of salt cod. I took half and made fish cakes topped with homemade sweet pickles (I think I was missing N.S. cooking after receiving a note and those photos from my friend Ellen). Joe took his half and create a Spanish dish with two different sauces – I’d never had anything like it before.
And today, Joe made a stick-to-your-ribs oxtail stew, while my contribution was hummus with veggies and strawberry shortcake.
Some people would think it odd that we tend to go our own separate ways in the kitchen, but for the most part it seems to work out OK. We are both pretty independent people, so I guess our kitchen styles mirror our lives in general.
Thought you might enjoy these clips courtesy of YouTube:
and
Happy viewing!
I have a friend in N.S. named Ellen, whom I’ve written about in the past on this blog when I posted her award winning apple recipe. Not only is she a bit of a local celebrity because of her pies and other desserts (she runs the kitchen at a little place in Grand Pre that serves down home cooking: baked beans with brown bread, seafood chowder with scones and of course pies and apple dumplings) but she is also one of the kindest, sweetest people you’d ever want to meet. Here is a photo of her and her babies and another of one of her pies. She makes about 30 pies a day, all from scratch. I can’t even imagine the number of scones, loaves of bread, apple dumplings and other delectables she must have to make. Outside of work hours she finds time to make jars and jars of various jams. I am totally in awe of her abilities.


Yup, that’s me. B-Girl. I took my first ever breakdancing class last night and Holy Handstand am I ever sore this morning!
We learned some pretty basic moves – six-step and stalling. I very quickly found out that my body was not made to move like this. But it was fun to try.
Maybe I would have done better if I had this guy teaching me!
A woman of my word, I have not mentioned one thing about my garden for the last week. But seven days have passed and I am now in the clear.
These birds, and close to two dozen more of their kind, have been hanging about our newly acquired feeders recently. And they’ve been living high off the hog. I not only offer them a choice of menu (two different kinds of seeds and nuts), but I give them fresh filtered water every day and shoo away any squirrels that come around to steal their food. Yet how have these ungrateful feathered ones re-paid me? By chowing down on my swiss chard until there’s almost nothing left of it! The nerve!!
The bees, however, are welcome in my garden any time. Their food of choice seems to be my chive blossoms. There are five bees on this one plant – see if you can spot them. Actually there were six but one flew away just as I was snapping the shot.



Bernie’s dog Lubba.
Catch of the day…the only one the boys reeled in. Bernie had what he figured was a 20 pounder on his line but it got away before he could net it. Notice the trout’s head in this photo looks disproportionately large compared to its body. Bernie told us that happens when the fish isn’t finding enough food. Indeed, when he gutted the fish there was nothing in its stomach. I have no idea why that would be…another consequence of climate change perhaps?
She dances on campus…
She dances on big rocks…
She dances in her residence…

Yup, my daughter dances.
I have always loved old things. Give me a battered up old table that has many a tale to tell over a brand new factory model any day. As a kid, when my mom asked me one year what I wanted for my birthday, I told her ‘an antique dresser’.
All this is a roundabout way of telling you that some family furniture arrived today that I had shipped from N.S. Some of it needs a lot of work, but some can be put to use right away.
Here’s my grammie’s commode – one of the first pieces of furniture I ever refinished. You can see I didn’t do a perfect job, and I cringe now at my choice of brass drawer handle (that I will replace as soon as I can find something more authentic) but still, not a bad job for a teen. This commode was part of a set that included a dresser and bed. The bed I couldn’t have shipped, but the dresser – seen below – I’ve had for many years. It’s another piece I refinished. It was coated with thick black varnish and was a bugger to strip. As a child I was fascinated by that little drawer and what might be hidden in there.
The next piece is my birthday present dresser. It cost my mom 90 dollars, which I know was a lot for her. I know the price because for years the tag was stuck inside the top drawer. I’m not sure who removed it, but it’s no longer there. The white dress, by the way, is my christening gown.
I also had five diningroom chairs with caned seats shipped and a huge dresser that is coated in ugly white paint. They’re still in the crates so I can’t show you.
My favourite piece, though, is one I’ve had for several years. It’s the cradle that my dad slept in when he was a baby. It’s seen here with quilts made by my mom and grammie, and a 1942 doll I bought at a garage sale (the date is in her shoe). Didn’t I tell you I was a sucker for old things?

When I had my babies, I tried hard to not pepper my friends with multiple photos and ‘cute’ stories of my growing brood. I was painfully aware that although I revelled in everything there was to know about my children – from their first bowel movement to their first tooth; their first smile to their first tumble on a two wheeler – most others had no need or desire to receive anything close to that level of detail.
Yet here I am 20 years later shamelessly inflicting upon you more stories about my garden babies. Forgive me: after today, the words garden, flowers, plants and vegetables will be banned from this blog for one whole week. But just for today, bear with me while I get my fix.
Remember this? Mid-June….
To this…mid-July.
Another garden visitor…drawn, I expect, by all the rain.
