Grazed by Sandy in Virginia

Here are a few photos that captured our weekend--everything from neighborhood chili cook-off, running into Mitt Romney's campaign bus, to waiting out Sandy.

It looks like we have made it through Hurricane Sandy, with only the lightest of touches.  We've been following very closely obviously and it seems like we are among the small pocket of people that did not lose their power, for which we are incredibly grateful.  We stocked up on about a week's worth of canned/dried goods that would not need cooking and set about preparing ourselves--equipped with flashlights and water.  We made the best of our inside day by building blanket forts, trying out flashlights and playing with ipad "paint."  We made quick jaunts outside for the dog when absolutely necessary.  There was indeed a lot of rain, incredibly strong gusts of wind and a wire that downed behind our house, setting a tree on fire (which led to a flurry of 911 calls by just about every neighbor in our complex I'm sure).  But we were unharmed and the fire went out within five minutes.  We are safe and very thankful!   We later heard that in a nearby neighborhood there was a house fire which took the life of elderly man.  Very tragic indeed.

Got to say we were definitely on edge all weekend.  Unfortunately, my parents had to cancel their trip to come and see us or risk driving through the remainder of the storm and it's residual mess.  And now we are watching the aftermath on CNN and shaking our heads in disbelief. 

Fall Festival & Juggling Pumpkins

In festive spirit, with Hurricane Sandy riding our tail-feathers and thus the eminent end of our glorious fall colours, we loaded up in the car and ventured off to the Burke Nursery and Garden Centre Fall Festival.  They had grounds filled with many play structures and activities things for kids--slides, swings, tubes to crawl through and roll in, pony rides, scary ride tour, picnicking area, face-paint, petting zoo, mechanical and spring-loaded horses and loads of hay.  Really, it doesn't matter what age you are--it is pretty fantastic.

Gabriel got to try out a lot of firsts (petting a pony, riding a spring-loaded horse, get his face painted) and meet many animals he has only met in storybooks so far (horses, roosters, hogs, goats).  

And at the very end, Gabriel got to choose his very own first pumpkin!  While we got a fairly big pumpkin of our own.  Four more days until Halloween to carve up that pumpkin.  Gabriel is just about ready to debut his Halloween costume. 

Looking for other fun things for infant/toddlers Gabriel's age.   Please share!!

Meadow Strings

Meadow Strings

Beyond the back veranda
And windowed door, agape in the autumn air
Carried on the shaded, hushed breath of twilight
Is the sound of crickets buzzing.
In their shrill sopranos,
A ricocheting orchestra
Chirps from both sides
Of the quiet curve of the paved promenade--
An all day concert
That cycles
With an evening crescendo.

Shadow Coast

In a whirlwind paint session frenzy, I whipped off my first painting!  I couldn't sleep until it was done and could barely wait for the paint to dry between sessions. Will there be more in the future?  Well.... we'll see.

This is "Shadow coast" done in acrylic and inspired by the West Coast Howe Sound area where we bought our first home.

Enjoy!

XO

Fall Beauty

Fall in Arlington means...

 Gorgeous fall colours

 The crackle of paws on leaves

 Walks in the water of the Potomac River

 A night-shift-induced afternoon excursion

 Exploring new dog friendly trails at Glencarlyn Park

 The blissful excitement of stomping in the leaves

 While wearing t-shirts in the warm Virginian sunshine

And occasionally a warm cozy sweater and warm sweet potato rosemary mascarpone soup, compliments of Giada.  Followed by her Chocolate Hazelnut drop cookies. (Sorry no picture, but both were delicious!)

Happy Fall! 

XO

Ps. How's Squamish?  I miss you!

Gabriel around the house lately

You know when you are expecting something to be really cool and then when it happens you are blown away?  That's how it is with Gabriel.  And I am sure with every mother.  Watching him grow has been very entertaining and incredible to watch.  Especially as his hits the stages with such non-chalance.  It's almost as if he's been practicing all night in his crib so by the time he does it for us, it's not big deal to him anymore.  "What you guys?  I've been doing laps and pull ups in my crib all night, so what?"

We've been laughing at all that Gabriel has been getting into.  Since learning how to "crawl" we finally see what it is that he has really been wanting to touch, taste, see, feel.  Favorites are manipulating books, opening and closing them and pointing to pictures of the doggy and various other animals.  He loves to crawl into the kitchen where he practices opening and closing cupboard doors before pulling all the recycling out all over the floor.  He loves to try to climb into the fridge and can now pull himself using the stairs or the couch, particularly in hot pursuit of my iphone or laptop.  But his all time favorites are "petting" (aka, grabby, claw-pulling) the dog's fur and playing with the wheels of the stroller--back and forth, back and forth.  I used to try to stop him, but he gets so much enjoyments out of the wheels.  So long as he doesn't suck on them, I figure, what's the harm?  And we always wash his hands after.  Some other favorites, when I am not looking, are getting into the dog dish.  I wish I could put it up but until Abe grows opposable thumbs and get walk on his hind legs, I will live a life of servitude.

Jordan has been working night shifts (for an undisclosed amount of time) so Gabriel and I are trying to keep quiet and tip-toe around the house so Jordan can get some sleep.  Generally, we just try to get out with Abe.  But Abe really just wants nothing more than to lay upstairs beside the bed where Jordan sleeps and where it is nice and quiet away from Mr. Grabby-fingers.  We have, however, been enjoying afternoon daylight time together so we can actually get out of the house and go for long walks in the glorious sunshine! 

We stopped off at the library last week after story time and "maxed out" my temporary library card getting two books.  It seems to be the best way to add some variety so I don't drive herself bonkers reading "It's springtime."  Gabriel is very much into books right now.  They are one of his favorite toys.  He finally discovered how to turn pages and that some of the pictures actually move. Unfortunately, it's meant he's torn out the cricket, a dog and the cellar door out of "It's springtime."  You should see him when we read the touchy "Touch and Feel Farm."  He's gets so excited as we pass the chick and the horse in anticipation of "tickle the dog's furry tummy."  Yes, I am starting to memorize all of Gabriel's books.  Fortunately, the library books have helped and amazingly it took Gabriel all week to learn that the toilet seat, cupboard door, washer door and clothing in the laundry basket flip up, down or sideways in the book "Help Maisy Find Panda."  Just in time to give it back.

And we've been having fun exploring Gabriel's taste palatte.  Just bought a fabulous cookbook,  "Weeknights with Giada" which I have to say that I HIGHLY recommend.  (Everything I have made in this book is AMAZING!)  Turkey and pancetta Pot Pie, Spiced pork chops with sweet and sour glaze, filet mignon with rosemary and mushroom gravy, double chocolate and espresso cookies.  I am in food heaven with this book!  (And Jordan and Gabriel are the immediate recipients of this revel in food glory!)  Gabriel has been eating such things as filet mignon, pork chops, tortellini, prosciutto and cheddar crepes (just a taste).  He is already developing a good sense of taste and if something doesn't taste good, he's usually right. Anyway, I have just about cooked my way through Giada's cookbook and looking for other really good recommendations....  Does anyone else have a cookbook that they just can't live without.

PS.  I think I've corrected any problems with posting comments.  You should be able to comment now sans problem!  Merci!

Late Night Painting Sessions

It's one am.  And I am staring at the painting above the fireplace.  Correction.  My painting.  Not sure how I feel about this new adventure.  Highschool was a long time ago and I am feeling incredibly rusty.  A few sleepless nights filled with the exhilaration of inspiration, the afterglow of our visit to the Torpedo Factory, was followed up a trip to the arts supply store and the almost completing emptying of tubes of paint onto canvas.  It started out with an image in my head, but somehow this wasn't it.  But sometimes I think the process of making art isn't as selfish as emptying the beauty in your head as it is working with the canvas and allowing your brush to do what it wants to do.  That's what I discovered over the past couple of late night sessions.  Every time I tried to make it do what I wanted, I ended up having to paint over it.  Or maybe I was just too terrified to actually to really "let go."

Anyway, it's still not done.  But it sits there taunting me from its perch above the fireplace.  I think I have a lot to learn but it's a start and it's an outlet for the creativity....  Because obviously writing, blogging, gourmet cooking and photography aren't enough yet.  This is just a teaser....  Enjoy!

I promise the next post will be ALL about Gabriel and the wild things he is doing.  An update is long overdue.  This kid blows my mind!


See FINISHED PRODUCT.

Georgetown: Our Dunken-sailor-walk on the Waterfront

On our clear blue sky Sunday, after visiting our new church, we loaded up the car and drove across the Potomac to Georgetown--known for being high-end, expensive and the fact that it has "good-shopping" all located on a picturesque waterfront area.  But while the ornate row-homes looked cute, the driving was congested and it was difficult to park.

We found an undisclosed Italian restaurant serving very very good pasta, although I think they were a little confused that we had brought Gabriel, told us that they didn't serve pizza while we clearly saw three pizzas come out before and after us and didn't bring us our drinks.  Gabriel, adorned in his princely multicoloured "cape", completely behaved himself as always (as you can see from the pictures).... right.....  Anyway, he does have very good taste and loved our incredibly delicious and savory butternut squash ravioli and tortellini, information we would have passed to the chef as compliments from Gabriel had the waiters not completely ignored us.

We were not incredibly blown away with the "good shopping"--but I guess it was more about expectations.  We thought it would be more boutiques when really it was more chain stores amid some very pricey upscale kitchen/bathroom renovation stores.

So we opted for a waterfront meander where we could take Gabriel out.  (He is incredibly active now and doesn't stop moving all day.  He military crawls from end to end of the house, rolling, and huffing and puffing).  He toddled like a drunken sailor panting and squealing along the waterfront stretch past ducks, boats and birds, getting his little heart pounding.  Very pretty along this area and it was such a glorious day, at 20 degrees Celsius, to be in the sunshine, but I think we both agreed we prefer Old Town Alexandria for its shopping and overall cuteness.

    

Old Town Alexandria: The Torpedo Factory

Fall has hit Virginia in all of its golden yellows and some occasional firey reds, along with some slightly cooler, although still quite muggy weather with the odd day of rain.  It's simply beautiful here!

In lieu of hitting downtown DC (and its innumerable Smithsonian museums and monuments), we opted for more exploration of downtown old Alexandria and well-reputed, and locally recommended Torpedo Factory, an old war-time factory converted into studios of local Virginian artists.  It is most similar to Granville Island except that all the studios are in one building with three floors--everything from pottery to paintings to metallic arts and jewelry.

Being both (or all) art fanatics, we wandered around exploring each of the studios.  I think Gabriel must have the art bug just like us.  He sounded like I felt.  Something happens to me when I enter art studios.  It's like a bubbles welling up in my throat and a flutter in my stomach as I try to contain my excitement.  It's difficult to explain but I sort of feel like a hummingbird flitting around perching myself lightly for a moment at each piece before speeding off to take in as much as I can. Gabriel must have been feeling the same thing--he was completely buzzing but his excitement was more vocal.  The inside of the factory was a kind of artsy, less opulent cathedral that resonated with each whoop of Gabriel's exuberance. It was definitely well worth the visit and I am sure there will be some return visits in our future.

What gets you buzzing?

Immigration: Choose your OWN adventure

Grab a cup of coffee, sit down and settle in.  Here begins the saga:

At the risk of "complaining" at my own peril, let me preface this "rant" with a little preamble.  Anyone who has ever moved anywhere knows that there is a certain (plethora) of red tape and the like one must navigate (while trying to appear somewhat graceful) through, over, or under.  I can assure you, from what I hear from our American friends, that it is certainly NO difference immigrating to Canada.   From banking, to shipping, to work visas, to social insurance....  I think by the time we are ready to leave again, the paperwork end of things will just be wrapping up and we'll have to do it all over again.

Let me paint you just a few simple pictures.  Jordan's seven boxes of materials (which he shipped to his office since we had no address at the time) got stopped at the border in "no-where-us-canada."  We were told that the boxes could not be shipped and that we would have to go through the boxes, itemize them with such details as the make, fabric, thread-count of all materials.  Really.  How exactly do we do that?  Fly up to "No-where-us-canada-border" and just open the boxes and spend several hours itemizing and detailing the items of seven boxes.  Hmmmm...  Not sure how that is going to happen.  Turns out, it was a quick fix.  We just reshipped to our personal address.  OH!  Now you don't need all that info.  Tada!  Wait, the boxes somehow ended up in Calgary instead. ????

Then there was Jordan's documentation to get his work visa. He had "everything he needed" apparently, until he went to fly through.  "Oh.  You need your degree.  Nope, not a photocopy.  The actual thing."  So Jordan had to fly all the way home, take the degree off the wall and out of the FRAME.  Oh, it's GLUED onto the backing.  Maybe he'll just bring the framed degree with two 70 lb suitcases full of clothing PLUS two carry-ons.  Ok, maybe not.  

Good times.  And just like every other time in Jordan's life, someone screwed up his name on official paperwork while he was coming through.  From insurance to banking information, it's always "Jordon," "Gordon," "Porter" or "Davis." No one quite gets it right.  So neither of us should have been surprised when immigration wasn't any different.

Once the mistake was made, it is not easily undone.  The saga began at the Social Insurance Office (recommended by unnamed co-worker).  There were signs posted on the door saying "NO FOOD" beside a sign with a big gun and a X through the middle.  Jordan entered a room full of people lounging about, some sleeping on the benches and thought, "Greaaaaaat, this is going to be quick."  Not sure what all those people were doing, but Jordan's name wasn't long being called.  He was informed that someone had entered his name incorrectly and that he would have to go to the immigration office to change it in the system.

Saga continued when he went, the next day, to Destination #2: Immigration Office in Alexandria.  He was told upon his arrival that this particular office only did finger prints and biometrics.  He proceeded to Destination #3 the Immigration Office in Fairfax (30 minutes away), but he had to have an appointment. Deciding to forgo said appointment, Jordan just showed up unannounced. He had to go through airport-like security this time and was never asked whether he had an appointment.  He managed to find an officer who was not meeting with anyone. He told him the whole story (incorrect name on paperwork, trip to Social Insurance office and Immigration office in  Alexandria, etc) and although he was sympathetic there was nothing he could do.  But he could go to Dulles airport (another 30 minutes away), and they can sort it out for him.

Next, again on the same day, Jordan proceeded to the Dulles Airport (Destination #4) which is the size of the West Edmonton Mall and found an agent (down a random corridor at the far end of the airport) who disappeared for awhile with his passport, leaving Jordan twiddling his thumbs.  Jordan ponders the resemblance of this sojourn to the "Choose your own adventure books" that were around when he was a kid.  The agent returned to inform him that indeed he had come to the right place but that he would need to return Monday to Thursday between the hours of 2pm and 4pm, the designated "fix the errors time."  The happy gift and the bottom of this empty cereal box of an adventure?  Jordan got to spend the next hour fighting his way through 5pm traffic on a Friday afternoon to get home.

The next week he proceeded to Destination #4 (again).... between said "hours" only to find that that the "real" hours were between noon and 2:00.  Agad!  Jordan headed down the corridor to a row of chairs outside a locked door to wait.  There were no numbers to take to wait.  He had to knock on a door that said it is closed and no one came to answer. Finally, after barricading the door for the elusive agent who kept disappearing, he was able to chase down someone who agreed to help him.  He returned to tell Jordan that he should sit.  "This is going to take awhile."  It took an hour.

Well, apparently the saga is near over and he is able to pick up his social insurance number next week.  "All you have to do is pick it up."  Yes, I am sure.  Like it's that easy.  On the plus side, between business trips, paperwork drama and tying things up at home, no one knows who "Jordan" is at work.  "Jordan, who?"

Any other crazy immigration adventures out there....?

Life Instagramed

A few photos that captured our week.  We found a new church complete with approximately 500 people in attendance in service 1/2.  Jordan flew to Dallas for two days and is still getting immigration paperwork sorted (more on that later).  Other than that I've been trying my hand at a ton of new recipes thanks to my new cookbook!  Giada is my food guru and has AMAZING recipes.  Tried to butcher another two pies--one turkey pot pie almost didn't make it.  Had to call in the troops to salvage it for dinner with our first guest arriving, Jordan's cousin Jess was in town!  Surprise!  So lovely to see her.   I am Finding baby groups and hitting up the library to boost our book supply and get in some play time.  I am meeting and walking with lovely neighbors, but missing Squamish so skyping with Squamish friends.  :(  City tomorrow!

Transformative Writing

Hidden under the mattress, or in a cranny in the wall of a childhood bedroom, lays a diary.  Perhaps you had one.  Perhaps you kept it.  But have you read it?  What does this diary tell you about yourself?  Or your experiences?

I never used to write.  I never used to keep a journal.  Well, that's not actually true.  In fact, when I was younger and when I was a teenager, I periodically wrote things down in a book.  I would pour my little twelve year old heart out onto a page or I would write down, in anger, about something my ____ (insert parent/sibling/friend here) did.  Later,  I would read it and I realize there was nothing worth reading or realize how pathetic I sounded and would burn/destroy/erase all traces of the diary.  There was a proverbial graveyard where all my thoughts went to die.

What saddens me about this reflection is that I clearly missed the point.  I thought it was important to record a history of my life so I could look back at it in its "reality."  But this was not something that I would actually read and enjoy.  My first attempts at diary writing were painful to read.  Embarrassing.  Maybe too starkly honest, and slightly pathetic.  Why do we keep journals if they are sad reflections on our lives?

I said this to a co-worker, "Why would I want to remember all that stuff.  It's just uncomfortable and painful."  She laughed and said, "Not mine!" Her diaries were full of the memories of adventure and witty tales of experiences growing up.  Not because her life was perfect or that she didn't have rough periods in her life, but because that was how she chose to write them and how she chose to remember those moments.  Perhaps I am just slightly masochistic, but I thought that was cheating. Aren't we supposed to write open, honest reflections of lives?  Isn't that was diaries are for?  Talking to ourselves?  And yet, apparently not.  Joanne is a vibrant woman full of life and fun and mystery--you never know what to expect with Joanne around.  I can imagine that her writing was not much different. 

It was only recently once I began writing, and writing purposefully that I came to realize that she had a point.  There was something to this method of writing.  Writing is not so much a recording of history as it is a retelling of its most emotional, wildly adventurous, turmoilously beautiful, frankly human experiences.  It is not a mundane list of the day's events in sequential order. 

The beauty of writing is that we possess the abilities to write our own narratives from whatever perspective we choose, (embellishments included!).  And in doing so, we rewrite our histories, thereby determining our own outlook in life, refocus our vision of "self" and perhaps--to the degree that this is possible--direct the course of our own futures.  I believe that we speak truth into our lives; what we tell ourselves and others, becomes true through speaking it.  Through speaking it, we begin to believe it and through believing it, we act upon it, like a self-fulling prophecy. 

This has been true for me.  What could become negative experiences for me, have transformed through quiet reflection, before my eyes in my attempt to recapture the moment on paper.  Suddenly, an experience that was painful, exhausting or stressful creates moments of clarity or beauty.  Not every day is pleasant, not every experience painless, but somehow the act of writing and retelling, a fine balance is stuck.  A satisfying balance between stark fact and poetic freedom.

It's not so much a fabricated retelling as it is perspective.  Life is too short not to be beautiful. 

City of White

This weekend we ventured into Washington to have a wander and gawk at all the beautiful white stone and marble.  Jordan remarked on the beauty of purpose of design.  For example, how the reflecting pool, meant most obviously to reflect the Washington memorial, also causes one to reflect on the long walk from the Washington Memorial to the Lincoln Memorial on its opposite end.

After lunch at the Corner Bakery, we walked to the Memorial to gaze up at this shockingly tall pointed tower made of both local and imported white stone, before walking the length of the reflecting pool to the Lincoln Memorial where sits the lean, handsome historical man, well-attired in his bowtie, quality boots and long buttoned-down jacket, which overlooks the pool and Washington Memorial through tall solid white pillars.  We sat and reflected, as one tends to do there, before walking back toward the Capitol Building a few miles at the other end of the mall.

Later on in the afternoon, we crossed back into Arlington to visit the cemetery housing the bodies of a myriad of political, military, and other various historical figures.  In particular we saw the graves of JFK and Jackie as well as the "Tomb of the Unknown Soldier," which was quite moving, in particular because a large group of WWII veterans, some pushed up in wheelchairs who came up this particular evening to visit in quiet reverence and remember fallen comrades.  At the very top of the hill was an enormous and quite striking amphitheatre made of pristine white marble glowing in the setting of the early fall sun.  Stunning!

Washington is a beautiful city and so rich in history.  So surreal to be touching the walls of buildings we have seen for years only on television.  And tonight, after our long day, we sit and watch "National Treasure" and chuckle as we see the Capitol building on television.  Hey, we've been there!

First Contact: Story-time

Stroller Valet Service: Captured this moment, minus 10 other strollers.....

Library time in Arlington is intense.  Let me tell you.  They have maximum capacity sign when you enter the door, maximum of 80 people.  Seriously.  And this is the fourth story-time of the week, which are all exactly the same, I might add.  So presumably, people could choose anytime and likely each story-time is just as full at other times too.  I arrive on time and the room is filled with 30 mothers and the odd father and the din of their abundance of wiggling, squawking, gurgling, big-eyed babes.  They each don name-tags.  The woman welcomes me and asks me to sign in and gives Gabriel a name tag to fill out.  Next, as stroller valet, she parks my stroller for me.  I cannot get out.  Good thing Gabriel behaved himself.

Now you have to see this from Gabriel's perspective.  We have been traveling for over two months.  During the time, Gabriel has spent likely a grand total of 2-3 hours of his awake time with a child in the room.  A child. Maybe two.  When one squawks or cries, he is terrified and begins to cry.  Flash-forward to the library.  The room is filled with over 30 babies.  The noise is so loud that the very lovely and quite articulate and clear-speaking librarian has to shout the story over the cacophony of babies who wiggle and squeal on the floor and on the laps of their parents.  It's so busy, I cannot even locate my new friend Margaret and daughter Corinne, who we had planned to meet.

Gabriel, wide-eyed sits quietly on my lap.  Even at his loudest, Gabriel is a quiet baby.  Sometimes when he is playing, I actually have to peek around the corner to see if he is still awake or into something because, at least currently, he is so quiet.  At the library, he watches, reaching out hesitantly to the baby girl who has snatched Harvé, his monkey out of Gabriel's arms and is about to walk over him.  He doesn't make one sound the entire time.  He's flabbergasted.  Who are these little people?  And why are they making soooo much noise?  

"Story-time" aka social time with felt-board and puppet stories and songs happening in the background, ends early.  Social hour (15 minutes) begins.  Boxes of toys come out and are distributed.  There are more babies than toys, but that's OK.  The room slowly begins to empty out.  Our heads are spinning.  But we make plans with our new friends to meet again next week.