Beaker, Punkin and I are heading down to a Beaker-family reunion of sorts this afternoon. It's about 3 hours away at Beaker's uncle's place (which is on a lake). We are staying in 'the guest cabin' which, from its photo, looks like a converted garden shed. I requested this sleeping arrangement because Punkin needs a place where she can be on her own for naps. She doesn't need quiet, but she needs alone.
It is not without a good deal of trepidation that we head down today. Punkin has been absolutely miserable for the last 24 hours. It started with some generalized whinging, and has worked its way up to full fledged moaniness and outright sobbing. She usually awakens in the morning with a burbling giggle. This morning is was sobs. I shoved Beaker and up he ran.
He found her sitting in the corner of her big girl bed (she graduated 2 days ago when she attempted to climb over the crib rail), hugging a huge stuffed moose and sobbing her little heart out.
We think she's teething again.
Her last big teething push was also a miserable week. She cut 5 teeth in 4 days (she has 7 now). So my concern is that she's going to be a miserable little troll at the family gathering. And really? If Punkin is miserable, I will be miserable. And if I'm miserable, Beaker will be miserable (I'm a total be-yotch when Punkin's miserable).
So I'm suddenly looking forward to this about as much as I look forward to a visit with the dentist.
Wish us luck.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Butter Tarts: A Follow-up
Okay, so far, every single comment has been a query about what butter tarts are.
Quite frankly, I don't know how you Americans can stand living somewhere that the butter tart is not a common confection. It is a tragedy of epic proportions. Much like how your Coca-Cola is sweetened with corn syrup instead of the almighty sugar.
So let me describe what a butter tart is.
Butter tarts are a simple tart. The filling is a concoction of brown sugar, corn syrup, butter, egg and vanilla (and sometimes maple syrup to make them extra delicious). Think butter pecan pie filling without the stupid pecans. You pour the goo into the tart shell and bake. Some people add raisins. Personally, I feel that is a violation of the sanctity that is the butter tart, but some people just really like raisins. Or are adding raisins in some pathetic and misguided attempt to make the butter tart seem healthy.
And oh delicious heaven of butter tart. NOMNOMNOM. Seriously.
Butter tarts are one of my favourite treats. They are so sweet though, that I usually only eat one every 6 months or so. It's not a treat that you can gorge on. Your teeth would fall out, at the very least.
They freeze really well, so when I do make them (rarely), they last forever. Or until Beaker finds them.
I'm not classy enough to make my own pastry, so I usually use the pre-made shells. If you want to make your own pastry, go nuts. Use whatever recipe works best for you.
Here's a recipe for the filling:
-2 tbsp butter, softened
-1/2 cup packed brown sugar
-1/2 cup corn syrup (you can play with the ratio of syrup to sugar a bit - more syrup makes them runnier, more sugar makes them more gelatinous - just make sure you have a cup of sweet. This would be where you want to add in the maple syrup if you're feeling so inclined)
-1 egg
-1 tsp vanilla
Mix everything together in a bowl. Really. That's all. Fill tarts 2/3rds full. Bake at 450F for 12 minutes or until filling is bubbly and pastry is browning a bit.
Allow to cool before eating. Molten surgary goo can cause third degree burns. Once cool, enjoy, and make a toast to Canada.
Quite frankly, I don't know how you Americans can stand living somewhere that the butter tart is not a common confection. It is a tragedy of epic proportions. Much like how your Coca-Cola is sweetened with corn syrup instead of the almighty sugar.
So let me describe what a butter tart is.
Butter tarts are a simple tart. The filling is a concoction of brown sugar, corn syrup, butter, egg and vanilla (and sometimes maple syrup to make them extra delicious). Think butter pecan pie filling without the stupid pecans. You pour the goo into the tart shell and bake. Some people add raisins. Personally, I feel that is a violation of the sanctity that is the butter tart, but some people just really like raisins. Or are adding raisins in some pathetic and misguided attempt to make the butter tart seem healthy.
And oh delicious heaven of butter tart. NOMNOMNOM. Seriously.
Butter tarts are one of my favourite treats. They are so sweet though, that I usually only eat one every 6 months or so. It's not a treat that you can gorge on. Your teeth would fall out, at the very least.
They freeze really well, so when I do make them (rarely), they last forever. Or until Beaker finds them.
I'm not classy enough to make my own pastry, so I usually use the pre-made shells. If you want to make your own pastry, go nuts. Use whatever recipe works best for you.
Here's a recipe for the filling:
-2 tbsp butter, softened
-1/2 cup packed brown sugar
-1/2 cup corn syrup (you can play with the ratio of syrup to sugar a bit - more syrup makes them runnier, more sugar makes them more gelatinous - just make sure you have a cup of sweet. This would be where you want to add in the maple syrup if you're feeling so inclined)
-1 egg
-1 tsp vanilla
Mix everything together in a bowl. Really. That's all. Fill tarts 2/3rds full. Bake at 450F for 12 minutes or until filling is bubbly and pastry is browning a bit.
Allow to cool before eating. Molten surgary goo can cause third degree burns. Once cool, enjoy, and make a toast to Canada.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Punkin can camp!
This weekend past, my best friend was visiting from Vancouver. I'd suddenly got this itch to go down to a war near-ish (about 3.5 hours) to us, and camp overnight. I have no idea why I suddenly decided that I needed to camp, or go to this war that I'd previously decided I couldn't afford to go to (time has a HUGE value in my house these days).
Anyhow, I begged and pleaded with my Leila, and she finally agreed we could go. I know Leila hates set up and tear down, so I wanted to make it as easy as possible for her, since she was basically sacrificing her visiting time with me to go to an event. I packed up the car, and off we headed.
We, fortunately, got some good help setting up the tent, which meant Leila was able to run around after Punkin while everything got set up. Finally, at 9:30, after not taking a single nap all day, I put Punkin to bed.
In a tent.
I was nervous as hell about it. Punkin has never camped before. Tent walls are not like house walls - the sound goes right through them. We are a rowdy bunch, and noise is a given where my medieval family congregates. Also, it was cold out. I'd attempted to deal with the cold by dressing Punkin in a polar fleece hoodie and pants, but I was still worried about the cold.
She exacerbated my concerns by screaming after being put down. She carried on for about 10 minutes, and then, blissfully, fell asleep.
She was camping.
She slept until 5:30, and woke up with a moan and some crying. I popped onto her side of the tent and changed her bum, noticed her feet were little icebergs and brought her over to our side of the tent, thinking (stupidly) that I could convince her to snuggle between Leila and I and go back to sleep. Instead, she enjoyed the bounciness of the air mattress, and climbed all over us for a while. When she started to wind down, I put her back to bed, and she slept until 9:30!
My wee Punkin is a camper!!
Anyhow, I begged and pleaded with my Leila, and she finally agreed we could go. I know Leila hates set up and tear down, so I wanted to make it as easy as possible for her, since she was basically sacrificing her visiting time with me to go to an event. I packed up the car, and off we headed.
We, fortunately, got some good help setting up the tent, which meant Leila was able to run around after Punkin while everything got set up. Finally, at 9:30, after not taking a single nap all day, I put Punkin to bed.
In a tent.
I was nervous as hell about it. Punkin has never camped before. Tent walls are not like house walls - the sound goes right through them. We are a rowdy bunch, and noise is a given where my medieval family congregates. Also, it was cold out. I'd attempted to deal with the cold by dressing Punkin in a polar fleece hoodie and pants, but I was still worried about the cold.
She exacerbated my concerns by screaming after being put down. She carried on for about 10 minutes, and then, blissfully, fell asleep.
She was camping.
She slept until 5:30, and woke up with a moan and some crying. I popped onto her side of the tent and changed her bum, noticed her feet were little icebergs and brought her over to our side of the tent, thinking (stupidly) that I could convince her to snuggle between Leila and I and go back to sleep. Instead, she enjoyed the bounciness of the air mattress, and climbed all over us for a while. When she started to wind down, I put her back to bed, and she slept until 9:30!
My wee Punkin is a camper!!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Butter-Tart: A Canadian Saying?
So, my fellow bloggers...
Those of you not in Canada? Do you know what a butter tart is? Because according to a book I saw at the grocery store tonight, Butter Tart is part of the Canadian lingo.
Weird.
You know what else is weird? When you and your best friend (who is visiting from Vancouver) are standing in the book section of the grocery store, reading a book on Canadian words, and a man walks over to his wife, who is not 5 feet away and lets rip a mighty 'fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrp!'
I looked up in shock, thinking he must have just blown a raspberry at his wife or something. Then she hit him in disgust. But rather than move away from his offending smell, they stood there, soaking in the funk from his bottom-burp.
I made the mistake of making eye contact with my friend. Her face was red with the exertion of not laughing. Her shoulders were shaking. Tears were brimming in her eyes. I quickly covered.
"Bargoon? How is that a 'Canadian saying'?" I asked.
"Bwahahahahahahahaha!"
The couple must have thought we were crazy, laughing at something so not funny. But we were both gasping with laughter. Even Punkin laughed. And made this sound with her mouth:
"Pththththththththththththtp!"
Those of you not in Canada? Do you know what a butter tart is? Because according to a book I saw at the grocery store tonight, Butter Tart is part of the Canadian lingo.
Weird.
You know what else is weird? When you and your best friend (who is visiting from Vancouver) are standing in the book section of the grocery store, reading a book on Canadian words, and a man walks over to his wife, who is not 5 feet away and lets rip a mighty 'fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrp!'
I looked up in shock, thinking he must have just blown a raspberry at his wife or something. Then she hit him in disgust. But rather than move away from his offending smell, they stood there, soaking in the funk from his bottom-burp.
I made the mistake of making eye contact with my friend. Her face was red with the exertion of not laughing. Her shoulders were shaking. Tears were brimming in her eyes. I quickly covered.
"Bargoon? How is that a 'Canadian saying'?" I asked.
"Bwahahahahahahahaha!"
The couple must have thought we were crazy, laughing at something so not funny. But we were both gasping with laughter. Even Punkin laughed. And made this sound with her mouth:
"Pththththththththththththtp!"
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
No thanks, we have enough crazy already
Last night, a minor miracle occurred. I made it to bed before 1am. Consequently, when my stomach lurched into gear this morning at 7:20, I just got up, instead of heading back to bed. My guts are roiling. I have no idea why, or what from, but yipes. Thank goodness for imodium, and a place where none of you really know me so I can say I needed it this morning.
I have been having insane dreams the last few nights, all of which culminated in 'CrazyDreamFest 08' last night.
Dream the First:
Someone was trying to convince me to eat an egg. I was all about eating the egg. I like eggs. Then I looked at the egg, and it was cracking. From the inside out. And then? A little moist chickie head popped out of the egg. I shrieked and dropped the egg, and the chickie wandered away. Ick. I'm feeling a lot less fond of eggs this morning.
Dream the Second:
Oh the crazy!
I was in Edmonton. Which then turned into Calgary. And then turned into this weird city that exists in my recurrent dreams. It's DreamCity. And it has the best DreamMall ever in it, by the way. Anyhow.
I was waiting for the bus at the super awesome transit loop of awesomeness (because DreamCity is perfect), and this woman approached me. And offered me a bag. It looked like there was a blanket in the bag. But there were also a bunch of spiders in the bag. I don't like spiders at all. So I said no thanks (only it sounded more like "EEEEEEEEEEE! Spiders!") Anyhow, suddenly I noticed the woman had abandoned the bag of spiders, and while her back was turn, I grabbed it and took it.
I was walking away from her when this old lady came up and started harassing me, and telling me I wasn't allowed to abandon a tire at the awesome transit loop of awesomeness. I kept telling her I didn't have a tire, and finally she grabbed the bag of spiders and shook it. And it tore open and a black lab puppy flopped out (don't worry, he was alive). I picked him up to give him a snuggle and he started to heat up and change colour from black to brown to red to orange to white. He was some sort of phoenix-puppy cross, and he was super smart - you could tell him that he needed to calm down, and he'd go back to being a little black lab.
Anyhow the old lady wanted to know what his name was, and I told her it was 'never surrender' (except I told her the latin for never surrender, which I don't actually know, so I can't tell you).
So yeah.
Don't come selling your crazy at my door. I have enough already.
I have been having insane dreams the last few nights, all of which culminated in 'CrazyDreamFest 08' last night.
Dream the First:
Someone was trying to convince me to eat an egg. I was all about eating the egg. I like eggs. Then I looked at the egg, and it was cracking. From the inside out. And then? A little moist chickie head popped out of the egg. I shrieked and dropped the egg, and the chickie wandered away. Ick. I'm feeling a lot less fond of eggs this morning.
Dream the Second:
Oh the crazy!
I was in Edmonton. Which then turned into Calgary. And then turned into this weird city that exists in my recurrent dreams. It's DreamCity. And it has the best DreamMall ever in it, by the way. Anyhow.
I was waiting for the bus at the super awesome transit loop of awesomeness (because DreamCity is perfect), and this woman approached me. And offered me a bag. It looked like there was a blanket in the bag. But there were also a bunch of spiders in the bag. I don't like spiders at all. So I said no thanks (only it sounded more like "EEEEEEEEEEE! Spiders!") Anyhow, suddenly I noticed the woman had abandoned the bag of spiders, and while her back was turn, I grabbed it and took it.
I was walking away from her when this old lady came up and started harassing me, and telling me I wasn't allowed to abandon a tire at the awesome transit loop of awesomeness. I kept telling her I didn't have a tire, and finally she grabbed the bag of spiders and shook it. And it tore open and a black lab puppy flopped out (don't worry, he was alive). I picked him up to give him a snuggle and he started to heat up and change colour from black to brown to red to orange to white. He was some sort of phoenix-puppy cross, and he was super smart - you could tell him that he needed to calm down, and he'd go back to being a little black lab.
Anyhow the old lady wanted to know what his name was, and I told her it was 'never surrender' (except I told her the latin for never surrender, which I don't actually know, so I can't tell you).
So yeah.
Don't come selling your crazy at my door. I have enough already.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Roomba Attack
I preface this post with a 'bad mommy' disclaimer.
Punkin is currently having a temper tantrum in her crib. Here is why:
At christmas, my parents gave me a roomba. It was awesome, for the first week. Then the battery died. Apparently the version of the roomba we had was known for battery issues, so costco was happy to return it for us. I think I used to money to buy Punkin a portable DVD player that never gets used because she doesn't know what TV is.
Anyhow, I was helping Wynn organize her house on Saturday and she said, kind of randomly "do you want my roomba?"
Uh... Is this a trick question? Her roomba works, never had a problem. It's also shiny and white, and looks slightly cooler than my green roomba did. The only reason Wynn didn't want it anymore is because her upstairs is all hardwood. Not one to look a robot vacuum in the eye and say no, I nodded eagerly.
So I brought the roomba home, and set it to charge. Punkin is fascinated with buttons.
The first time she wanted to push the button, the roomba's battery was too flat, and nothing happened.
Then about 30 minutes ago, she followed me into the spare room (where the roomba docks) and saw the blinking button. While I ran back out into the living room, she tempted fate, and pushed the button.
And the vacuum roared to life and came at her. To an 18 month old, it must have been terrifying. I admit, I kind of find the damn thing creepy in its movements, so the scream of terror wasn't much of a surprise. When I turned back into the room though, I totally cracked up (hence the bad mommy).
The roomba appeared to be chasing Punkin around the bedroom. I know it wasn't, really, but Punkin was trying to get away from it and using the same simple 'obstacle avoidance logic' that the roomba uses. Result? She was running just 2 steps ahead of the damn thing, screaming her head off in terror.
I scooped her up, and comforted her, and held her in my lap for a few minutes. She settled, I put her back down. She saw the roomba, and freaked again. Then it disappeared into her bedroom. Now she's really hysterical because she thinks the bloody thing is going to eat her toys or something, so she stands between her room and the spare room screaming at me, and pointing at the attack roomba.
I repress my snickers, and scoop her back up. The roomba gets hung up on a piece of lego, so I turn it off and carry it, and her, back to the spare room. I put the roomba on the charging dock, and Punkin on my lap, where she can't see the roomba. Then she settles again. And I put her back down, and she takes one look at the roomba and starts freaking out again.
So I picked her up, and plopped her in bed, closed her drapes and shut her door. She's finally stopped screaming, and is just moaning now (a sure sign she's overtired), and I'm finally getting to my paperwork.
Clearly this is something we'll have to work on. I wonder if the roomba would be able to move if I sat her down on it or something. Hmmm.
Punkin is currently having a temper tantrum in her crib. Here is why:
At christmas, my parents gave me a roomba. It was awesome, for the first week. Then the battery died. Apparently the version of the roomba we had was known for battery issues, so costco was happy to return it for us. I think I used to money to buy Punkin a portable DVD player that never gets used because she doesn't know what TV is.
Anyhow, I was helping Wynn organize her house on Saturday and she said, kind of randomly "do you want my roomba?"
Uh... Is this a trick question? Her roomba works, never had a problem. It's also shiny and white, and looks slightly cooler than my green roomba did. The only reason Wynn didn't want it anymore is because her upstairs is all hardwood. Not one to look a robot vacuum in the eye and say no, I nodded eagerly.
So I brought the roomba home, and set it to charge. Punkin is fascinated with buttons.
The first time she wanted to push the button, the roomba's battery was too flat, and nothing happened.
Then about 30 minutes ago, she followed me into the spare room (where the roomba docks) and saw the blinking button. While I ran back out into the living room, she tempted fate, and pushed the button.
And the vacuum roared to life and came at her. To an 18 month old, it must have been terrifying. I admit, I kind of find the damn thing creepy in its movements, so the scream of terror wasn't much of a surprise. When I turned back into the room though, I totally cracked up (hence the bad mommy).
The roomba appeared to be chasing Punkin around the bedroom. I know it wasn't, really, but Punkin was trying to get away from it and using the same simple 'obstacle avoidance logic' that the roomba uses. Result? She was running just 2 steps ahead of the damn thing, screaming her head off in terror.
I scooped her up, and comforted her, and held her in my lap for a few minutes. She settled, I put her back down. She saw the roomba, and freaked again. Then it disappeared into her bedroom. Now she's really hysterical because she thinks the bloody thing is going to eat her toys or something, so she stands between her room and the spare room screaming at me, and pointing at the attack roomba.
I repress my snickers, and scoop her back up. The roomba gets hung up on a piece of lego, so I turn it off and carry it, and her, back to the spare room. I put the roomba on the charging dock, and Punkin on my lap, where she can't see the roomba. Then she settles again. And I put her back down, and she takes one look at the roomba and starts freaking out again.
So I picked her up, and plopped her in bed, closed her drapes and shut her door. She's finally stopped screaming, and is just moaning now (a sure sign she's overtired), and I'm finally getting to my paperwork.
Clearly this is something we'll have to work on. I wonder if the roomba would be able to move if I sat her down on it or something. Hmmm.
Sharing A Moment
Sharing a moment (and a waterbottle) at the war - the man who would make me princess with his princess in waiting.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
...
7 cones of serger thread
8 spools of guttermann in blue, brown, white, green, red, pink
50 metres of linen
20 metres of wool
3 metres of shiny expensive brocade
2 sewing machines
1 serger
1 iron
1 ironing board
2 washing machines
2 dryers
23 2-litre bottles of diet coke
4 measuring tapes
2 pairs of scissors
3 days of babysitting
4 olfa cutting mats
3 olfa rotary cutters
2 new cutting blades
4 people sewing
4 different sets of measurements
1 shiny new passport
This has been my life since June 9th.
I haven't eaten a meal at my dining room table since June 9th. I haven't put my serger in its designated place in the basement craftroom, I haven't put my box of thread away, I haven't put my sewing machine away. I haven't vacuumed up the thread bunnies, I haven't collected the scraps of left-over fabric in at least 2 weeks.
I have been consumed by costuming.
Just when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel for my sewing for my reign, I realized I have some events I need to go to before step-up, and I really have a limited wardrobe right now. So I've started to attempt to increase that wardrobe as well. Last night I sewed a blue tunic and a gorgeous chocolate brown apron dress (norse style stuff). The apron dress is a squinch too small, so today I will be letting out the seams as much as I can (which might be 1/4 inch each. If I'm lucky) and will also start eating more rabbit food for the next month so it fits more comfortably.
Also, while I was at an event last week, I discovered that one of the newer people in our local group only has winter weather clothing - it's lovely (I made it, so I am biased), but it's dark, heavy wool. So she needed some new stuff too. I made her a buttery yellow tunic and chocolate brown apron dress because she wants norse. Yay! Now she has some clothing that won't cause her heat exhaustion. At the same event, my standard white under-tunic got a burn hole in it from a crackly fire. So I need a new white undertunic as well. I have that cut out and will be sewing it later tonight.
I also have a bunch of embroidery I need to do on my new coat (gorgeous and will be more gorgeous when it's finished).
In short... My absence? Hopefully it's making your heart grow fonder because I don't know if I'll be able to knock off posts as quickly as I used to. The sewing is going, finally, but next week is booked with 2 other projects (and my best friend is flying up from Vancouver, and she needs to sew too).
Next week:
'generic wench' for a friend
'generic wench' for me
more tunics and apron dresses for my best friend
The week after that, Beaker is home and we're headed to a family reunion. The week after that, thankfully is free. And then the week after that we're into August. I'll be busy every weekend in August. Every, single weekend.
FYI - I'll be in Seattle over the labour day long weekend.
8 spools of guttermann in blue, brown, white, green, red, pink
50 metres of linen
20 metres of wool
3 metres of shiny expensive brocade
2 sewing machines
1 serger
1 iron
1 ironing board
2 washing machines
2 dryers
23 2-litre bottles of diet coke
4 measuring tapes
2 pairs of scissors
3 days of babysitting
4 olfa cutting mats
3 olfa rotary cutters
2 new cutting blades
4 people sewing
4 different sets of measurements
1 shiny new passport
This has been my life since June 9th.
I haven't eaten a meal at my dining room table since June 9th. I haven't put my serger in its designated place in the basement craftroom, I haven't put my box of thread away, I haven't put my sewing machine away. I haven't vacuumed up the thread bunnies, I haven't collected the scraps of left-over fabric in at least 2 weeks.
I have been consumed by costuming.
Just when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel for my sewing for my reign, I realized I have some events I need to go to before step-up, and I really have a limited wardrobe right now. So I've started to attempt to increase that wardrobe as well. Last night I sewed a blue tunic and a gorgeous chocolate brown apron dress (norse style stuff). The apron dress is a squinch too small, so today I will be letting out the seams as much as I can (which might be 1/4 inch each. If I'm lucky) and will also start eating more rabbit food for the next month so it fits more comfortably.
Also, while I was at an event last week, I discovered that one of the newer people in our local group only has winter weather clothing - it's lovely (I made it, so I am biased), but it's dark, heavy wool. So she needed some new stuff too. I made her a buttery yellow tunic and chocolate brown apron dress because she wants norse. Yay! Now she has some clothing that won't cause her heat exhaustion. At the same event, my standard white under-tunic got a burn hole in it from a crackly fire. So I need a new white undertunic as well. I have that cut out and will be sewing it later tonight.
I also have a bunch of embroidery I need to do on my new coat (gorgeous and will be more gorgeous when it's finished).
In short... My absence? Hopefully it's making your heart grow fonder because I don't know if I'll be able to knock off posts as quickly as I used to. The sewing is going, finally, but next week is booked with 2 other projects (and my best friend is flying up from Vancouver, and she needs to sew too).
Next week:
'generic wench' for a friend
'generic wench' for me
more tunics and apron dresses for my best friend
The week after that, Beaker is home and we're headed to a family reunion. The week after that, thankfully is free. And then the week after that we're into August. I'll be busy every weekend in August. Every, single weekend.
FYI - I'll be in Seattle over the labour day long weekend.
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