Have a little heart! (Catherine storytells Arta's 2017 heart attack)

 

Last summer, when a group of us were going through the last of Arta's papers and files, we were thinking about how to share and archive family stories/histories.  

At one point, we had come across a picture of Arta's heart, back in 2017 when she had a stent put in during a heart attack. 

The photo was quite a thing, and we wrote up a post about rivers and veins.  Here is a link to that post:   https://larchhaven.blogspot.com/2025/08/rivers-and-streams-or-artas-coronaries.html

Back then, we had promised to tell the stories around the image of Arta's heart attack.  We recorded Catherine's story (on August 4, 2025), but I only just got the video uploaded.   If you want 11 minutes of fun and mayhem (everything ended well, and we got an additional 4 years with our mom), then follow the link below.

https://youtu.be/dqcqLtW9J0U

Quick afters school treat?

Mary and I have been talking about apple recipes.

Doral and Anita shared their harvest with our home last week, and I have been busy baking with apples ever since. 

Does it look like I have put a dent in our stock?

Today's recipe turned into more of a science experiment. Mary used to make a microwaved baked apple for herself after school.

David and I gave it a go. Core an apple leaving the bottom on. Ours looked like a tiny red pumpkin by the time the stem and seeds were out.

Mix together 5 mL margarine, 15 mL brown sugar, and 2.5 mL cinnamon. Put in microwave for 5 minutes. I hope, dear reader, you are not taking notes.

We ended up with cinnamon toffee that hardened on the bottom of the bowl, a teeny tiny bit of applesauce, and some crispy edible apple skin.

Time to soak the dish, and try again, I think. Our home smells great but our bellies are not full.

We had better luck with our Apple Fritters. Although we have added some notes in our recipe book for modifying the recipe, we devored the whole batch on one sitting.

A Short Video Of Photos From Arta's Life

#30 -- Arta's Love of Vegetables

Arta is in hospital recovering from a bowel obstruction caused by a tumour on her pancreas.  They were able to do a special procedure called a gastrojejunostomy  (yes, of course, had this word memorized with only two tries of saying it out loud) to bypass the obstruction and allow her to continue to eat.  Post-operation she has continued to have a lot of nausea and little appetite.  The hosptial team looking after he is amazing and working on finding the right combination of meds to alleviate her pain and her nausea.  We are getting close to that sweet spot.  In the meantime we decided part of her lack of appetite had to do with the hosptial food she was getting -- too bland, or too sweet.  And so, Sunday we brainstormed some ideas for food that sounded delicious to her that could still be mashed or purred to meet the dietary restrictions of her gastrojejunostomy recovery period.

If you know Arta, you know she looooooves vegetables. If anyone could convince through example that eating vegetables is joyful, it is Arta. I reminded her of how much she loves a soup thick with vegetables and we decided to make some and puree it and see if she would be interested in eating it.  Here is the soup I made today to try and tempt her -- onions, celery, garlic, carrots, zucchini, spinach, fresh basil, pureed tomatoes and vegetable broth. I blended up a cup and brought it to the hospital.

I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say she was in heaven (on earth). She wasn't able to eat the amount she would usually have eaten in the past, but she did have about 6 tablespoons and licked out the bowl.

  The Vegetable Soup (before being pureed)

 Eating soup with napkins handmade by Hebe

But also, if you know Arta, you know she also loves dessert. And dessert can happen anytime of the day.  This morning she thought she'd be able to eat a couple of tablespons of ice cream if we could track down a little orange pop  to make it into a float.  Perfect breakfast.

She was also open to a trying two slices of banana and a spoonful of chocolate fondue.

 Overall, it was a great day convincing her body and stomach to try out some food again.  What will tomorrow's food adventures bring?

Deep Fissures

... looking up to the main curve in the road ...

April 28, 2014

On the way home from the opera Moiya drove slowly along Pilling’s Road, showing me where the three culverts are on that stretch.

I know the one by the drop off that we call Moose Pees in Stream.

That is the place where Bonnie and David stopped one day to watch a moose forage and drink water.

One of the other culverts couldn’t take all of the water that was driving down the side of the road and so it travelled on down to the culvert that empties into the stream by my place.

white pipe taking overflow from full culvert
... helping the water get across the road  ...

I was thinking that the culvert had been plugged up because I should have gone in and emptied out the silt around it, but Dave Wood said no.

 ... Greg straightening the plastic ...

They could hear the rocks pounds in the culvert as they were carried along by the strength of the water. By the time I got out here, Dave, Graham and Glen has spent a long time unplugging that culvert so that the water could run freely through it again.

...looking down the fissure ...

I think the debris they took out is 3 feet high and six feet long.

Every time I take a shovel full of it now, to carry it away so that the area can be mowed this summer, I think of all of the work those guys did, getting it out of the water.

A bigger worry is the two fissures in the road.

The Pig Roast cinder-blocks
being put to good use to contain the water.

I walked off the one that begins by the culvert at the curve in the road as you round the cover at my house.

Thirty paces.

The one that is further down the road, in front of Moiya’s and Wyona’s is even longer.

Dave's truck parked at bottom of Missionary Reach

The CPR came out on Friday to see what they could do, but they have no equipment that they can divert here and the work that has to be done can only be done when the ground is dry.

No one of us wants that part of the hill to slide – not LaRue and not the CPR. Rob (Bobcat Rob) ditched the road right by the hill and Glen and Dave lined it with plastic.

Dave pounding rebar into south side of hill

Sunday I noticed that the stream had pooled just at the bottom of the Missionary Reach and was spilling over onto the plastic lining and moving about half-way down it.

I went back up to the top to check again and the water seemed to be coming faster. Indeed, on my second look the water was now off the plastic and running down the ditching that had been done.

... now is not the time to miss the nail ...

I walked up to tell Dave and though he wasn’t home, he did arrive an hour later.

By now it was raining. I saw his truck at the bottom of the hill and him running back up to the truck.

... plastic lines the culvert ...
rocks hold the plastic down

The rain was mixed with pellets of snow.

Dave thought he should get another couple of plastic rolls to lay in the ditches that were now filling so he made a quick trip into Parkland Building Supplies where he also got come rebar to hold the plastic into the south side of the hill.

So, we are all asking the question, why is this happening?

Is it because of the clear cut above us and the water no longer being held on the hill as it was in times past.

 ...Arta picking up rocks, only the size she can heave ...

A second theory is that the hill has been compromised down by the track with too much water.

That is why there is a fissure above, on the road,.

Perhaps the land above is now unable to be supported because it is so wet at the bottom of the hill.

 ... a pause for a candid ...
Dave now out of his Sunday Suit and into work clothes
Greg in his burning the trash outfit.
Arta wearing C.I.A.U Women's Basketball Championship "88 t-shirt

At any rate, the plastic in the ditch is to stop the water from soaking into the hill, thus making the fissure grow bigger.

We are scientific.

I was trying to measure how deep the fissure is with the empty tube from the plastic.

I thought four feet, perpendicularly.

Dave measures it horizontally, putting his boot in at the same place every time.

He thought it had opened up another couple of inches.

Arta

Trocadero

Are we really here?

Oh, I am going to spell everything wrong, but what does it matter, today. We took a fast bus ride right to the Trocadero to talk down the steps to the Eiffel Tower. When Rebecca says whoops, right bus but wrong direction, we know a new adventure has begun.

The bus driver told her that her French seemed good enough that she would understand where to go next. She replied to him that her French is good enough but she is "off" directionally. It took another bus, a tram ride and a metro ride to get us to the right spot. Oh yes, and an unintended our spent on the public transport.

Our tram tickets wouldn't work in the Metro and while Rebecca went to the information centre to check that out, I watched how people get through the gates of the metro without paying. 

Some boys just go right up against the back of a person who is paying and slip though with them. I watched two boys try to do that. Only the first got through. The second had to choose another paying patron, while a third boy just jumped the iron gate. I wondered what is the ratio of paying customers to riding customers but we didn't stay long enough for me to take a survey.

Eiffel Tower

Bonnie used her French, trying to buy one banana. She ended up with one bunch, which is close to one. Afterwards she remarked that the bananas cost less than the bottle of water she purchased later.

What is there to say about walking down the Trocadero steps that can be captured in words. Bonnie was thrilled. Her first time back in 30 years and a new approach to the Eiffel Tower -- walking down the hill and getting the full length view rather than only the view from under the tower.

Rebecca ordered a crepe -- just sugar on it. Not because she needed it, but because it was her way to celebrate her return to that spot. There was a protest going on. Drumming. Marching in a circle around and around. Algerians drawing attention to their illegal status and their fear of reprisals. Buskers were warming up on one of the plateaus on the way down. She wanted to watch them, but you know how busking goes. First there is the warm-up, gathering the crowd, getting them to buy in to the idea that they will be paying after the performance.

Fabulous hair in a fabulous city on a fabulous woman.

Of the three of us, Rebecca is the one that other tourist's target when they want someone to take a picture of them.

I suspect that the psychedelic colours that her hair dresser gave her before she left Victoria make her accessible to them.

She obliges every request after asking them if they want a long shot or a close up or shoulder shots.

She even went over to a family of 11 members to help them out, but they dispersed before they saw she was going to help them.

The three of us walked on down the steps and across the Seine to the tower.

The tourists were shoulder to shoulder. Line-up were long and three or four deep.

We shared past stories of visiting this spot. Arta with the Jarvis children. Rebecca with her boys. Bonnie with Rebecca and a host of pigeons 30 years before.

You really walked up the stairs last time you were here?

The cost of key chains that have the Eiffel Tower on them ranges from 4 for a Euro to 10 for a Euro.

About every two minutes someone comes by to ask if we want to buy some.

Brightly coloured scarves emblazoned the the tower and the word PARIS are also on their arms. The price is 4 for 10 Euros.

I wonder if I want one of every colour and then I remember how scratchy they are -- good for wrapping on the handle of a purse, but not good for keep the wind off of my neck.

Rebecca had in mind for us to walk down the Champs Elysee.

We left the tourist hustle and bustle an walked through avenues that were filled with embassies until through the trees she saw L'Arc de Triomphe.

Protestations - government austerity measures do not work.

We hadn't found the way to get around the traffic circle and into the arch before we saw part of today's citizen protests -- the part done by motorcyclists who had gather at the circle and stopped traffic there.

They motorcycles seemed to have gathered within the space of a minute. 

Maybe hundreds of them.

 One of the cyclist rode all the way around the circle, a red torch in ihs hand, white smoke billowing into the air.

 I could smell the fumes and wondered how Bonnie was going to do with that.

Almost lost Flat David in a windy moment at the Arc de Triomph.

We heard the sound of sirens, saw the regular traffic there come to a stand still, and asked the man selling ice cream from his moveable wagon to explain to us what the protest was about. Rebecca translated -- "Manifestastions. A protest about austerity." In the late evening we went out to the Paris news to read more.

I loved the walk today down the Champs Elysee. I can't really make sense of that since in the past four days I have seen museums that hold world treasures. Every five minutes or so something comes before my eyes that is so astonishing, so amazing.  Something I have read about and never dreamed I would see. And now, out of the blue, I am completely unprepared for it.

 There are so many moments in time where I think … well, the day can't get any better than this. And then the day does get better. That part of my holiday has been exhausting. So much to see. So much to hold in my mind. So many questions to be answered when I get home. So many connections from the past being made.

Place Concoria

That is why the walk today was so restful. None of that greatness. Just ordinary lives being lived along the sidewalks of Paris. Seeing little families walking along the avenue pushing babies in high seated baby buggies, toddlers riding motor scooters alongside their parents, tourists with brand name shopping bags in their arms, cafes full of people resting with a glass of wine or a demitasse of strong coffee. I laughed at the clever buskers at the Place de Concorde -- golden statues that children went to investigate and when they did, the busker would offer to shake the hand of the child, then bringing that little thing in close so that the parents would have to take a picture and then pay.

All three of us marvelled at the cars for rent at the Place de Concordia. Proches. For 89 Euros you can rent that car for 10 minutes and drive it around the circle. Bright red and canary yellow. Bonnie was hoping that none of the renters got caught in the protests as they drove those rental cars, for it they did, their bill would have been pretty high by time the traffic moved and they got back to the rental office -- which was just a man standing by the curb waiting for his next customer.

Near the Louve, in Tullier's Garden.

The Palais Royale has an exhibition about August Ceasar, celebrating 2000 years since his death. There is a false facade on the building that was so interesting I pulled myself over to look at it. Then Rebecca saw an exhibition of Robert Mayerthrope going on in the same building. The price to get in was 13 euros. I could feel that magnetic draw toward using the last hour of the evening to see the exhibit, knowing full well that it would be a complete waste of money for by 8 pm I am pretty well too tired to take in anything of substance.

The Endive salad with oranges,  or the one with corn and olives?

So we came home, stopping at the Monoprix again to buy just enough for supper. Go out? Or pick up a few things an eat at home?

 Rebecca was promising to make an endive salad filled with tomatoes, olives, corn and walnuts. It was a slam dunk as to which choice to make.

The dinner was delicious at home. And now both Bonnie and Rebecca are too tired to stay up and have gone to bed. We have all had our days when collapse has been imminent. Bonnie was totally exhausted two days ago. White as a sheet. Last night i came home and went right to bed -- I didn't care about food or drink or company.

Another day in Paris, coming to a close.

Rebecca finally caved tonight, but not until 11:30 pm and after showing us the most beautiful Paris sunset that she photographed while Bonnie and I were in the Monoprix picking out a sharp cheese to use on the salad. 

Too bad, Rebecca said about her picture. Tonight's sunset looks better than the one I photographed last night, which in my mind is still superior, though it doesn't have the same colours. Yes that view from the Dorsey looking toward the Eiffel tower and seeing the rim of Paris against the horizon is pretty amazing.

I sure wish Rebecca would have had the energy to blog the pictures for me. But I can't wish too hard. She has been doing the hard work of planning excursions, finding bus routes, looking for museum prices, figuring out what buildings are open, doing the menu planning and getting some amazing photography moments.

Arta

Rue LéonMaurice Nordmann

Friday Rebecca said that the reservation for a place to stay was confirmed.  All I had to do was find a way to get there.

... windows overlook gardens and greenery...

Wyona went to work for me since she knew it would be a long way from Orly to 151, rue Léon Maurice Nordmann if I had to get there on my own.

Hard to know when looking at the space if I will be able to get out the door and see any of Paris.  A lovely option seems to be ... just sit in the sun and look out of the windows.

Arta

Christmas Gifts

We have a soft agreement in our family.

For birthdays and Christmas we send emails, make phone calls, give personal greetings to those we love or we do whatever we want.

 It wasn’t always this way. When the kids were young there were presents – lots of them. Maybe a roll of life savers or a bracelet bangle. Now that I look back on it, I probably spent more money on wrapping paper than the kids spent on gifts. That how things were then.  Times change for families. My kids are gone – some thousands of miles away; one family just a sprint away, still ... all are gone. And so I wasn’t expecting any gifts this year, more than the always welcomed email or phone call or even blog post.

... a gift to me from Lurene ...

Still as far as gifts go, Kelvin and I scored on two fronts. Lurene slipped into the Santa bag a tea towel for me. I wondered if I should cherish it or use it. I am going to do both by doing the latter.

Kelvin received a wonderful gift in the “present exchange” held at the family party at Marcia’s house. I had bad timing. That was just the moment when I knew it was time for a nap. I only woke up to hear the happiness in the voices of those who came out of the game with presents that became more meaningful, the more they were desired by others. But this post is not about that.

I want to focus on Audra Treleaven. “I am five,” she says, beaming, as though she has entered adulthood. There is a look in her eye and a tilt of her head that lets you know she has gone through a rite of passage. I think it may have been when she started kindergarten in the fall, because by then she was telling her mother, “No, you let me out of the car a block away from school. I will walk in.”

On the night of the party Bonnie Wyora was watching how Audra can print her name – in block letters.

... a fantastic gift in the present game ...

“Wherever did she learn that?”, Bonnie asked Marcia.

“From her brothers. She is curious, dying to know everything about printing and she copies everything.”


And that is how we knew where the gift came from the Kelvin received.

It is a reading light that hangs around your neck.

Others who have this light like it ... say that it really works.

... the best part of the mylight gift ...Audra's printing practice at the bottom of it

What I like about the light is that Audra added a special touch to the package.

Printing practise at the bottom of the gift.

What kind of treasure is that.

Arta

A Moment of Nostalgia

Gabe signs autographs for theatre patrons and ...
Arta begins to think about the highlights of 2013

I had a moment of nostalgia this morning when looking at the left-hand side of the blog (The Blog Archive) and remembering at the same time that the year is coming to a close. Doral Johnson set the blog up in 2009 and then slipped out saying, "This belongs to all of us. I just set it up."

Now four years have come and gone: Nov and December of 2009, then 2010 to 2013, well four years -- almost ... a few days to go. On the average, it looks like we talk to each other about 450 times a year. I scrolled through the short two months of 2009 postings to see pictures of people who are now 4 years older. That is what brought the moment of nostalgia. Even I look four years younger in the photos.

I lingered longer at one of the posts, for there was my list of "The Ten Best 2009 Moments to be Remembered".

I really laughed when I saw 2009 was the year Rebecca offered to co-write a paper with me if I would come to a workshop with her. She said she would do the work. I would just have to talk to her for a while. In the months that followed, she turned that around into writing a paper each.  The papers are appearing in a collection about polygamy published in 2014. Who would have known in 2009?

Now I am off to take a walk.  It is -17. I will begin formulating my new post: Arta’s 10 always-to be-remembered-moments of 2013. I must remember to keep my eye on the icy sidewalks while the last 12 months roll by in my head.

Arta

Christmas Day on 26th Avenue

... cheese and crackers ...

At our house the Christmas celebration was around food.

At the house next door, the traditional Christmas was held.

The one where the parents stay up late to put out the Santa gifts, where they get up early to help navigate the children’s way through the Christmas gifts, and then they entertain guests for breakfast, and entertain children through the day with their new toys. All of this is done on the minimum hours of sleep.

Harry's curried vegetables
a first on the Christmas Day menu for  us

At this house – there was a single celebration at 3 pm and the celebration was all around Christmas food.

The dishes to produce were divided up: Harry to bring a curry; Philipp to bring an apple streusel; Amir and Pouria to bring the salad and with a gourmet avocado dressing; Trell and Ina – to bring Gerda.

And 83 year old Gerda?

Ina’s mom?

She brought knitted dolls for the children next door.

Remember the novelty doll that you flip the skirt of one doll and there was another underneath.

My children had a doll like that – a triple doll from the story of Little Red Riding Hood, the grandmother’s hat would flip over and she would become the wolf. That doll was eventually worn out.

... black salad tongs between the silver set of salad utensils ...
black, the preferred method for transferring salad to a plate
the silver salad set looses

Our dinner was shared by the following people: Bonnie Johnson, Kelve Johnson, Kelvin Johnson, Arta Johnson, Pouria Manesh, Amir Hamedzadeh, Richard, Miranda, Michael and Alice Johnson, Gerda Given, Ina Given, Trell Johnson, Harald Kristen and Philipp Mantzke

 A few things went wrong.

If I were to do the dinner again and do the stuffing in the slow cooker, I would put the stuffing on more than 20 minutes ahead.

The nice thing about the dressing is that it was ready 3 hours later when some of us were ready for seconds.

... creamy mashed potatoes ...

I think other than that, everything was pretty smooth.

Amir parachuted into the kitchen at the last minute and helped mash the potatoes.

Before next year, I am going to buy two new piece of equipment.

... HOT apple streusal... another Christmas Day first

One is the fat separator, where the juices of the turkey can be poured off and the fat can stay in the cup – I always get to skim mine off the next day, which is a little too late to save anyone’s arteries.

And I have been watching TV cooking shows on how to carve a turkey.

Gerda Given and Trell Johnson

So I struck out with that task.

Well, I meant the phrase "struck out" to mean, I tried to do it. But perhaps "struck out" could be taken in the sense of a baseball game.

Philipp Mantzke and Kelvin Johnson

Gerda stood beside me. She has been watching TV cooking shows as well. Besides she has carved turkeys for 30 years.

“Leave the meat on the drumstick. Some people just like to choose that and eat the meat off of the bone.”

Another good tip from her – "Cut the drumstick from the thigh through the joint."

Not that I hadn’t seen my favorite gourmet chef do it that way. I just didn’t think to do it that way when I came to carving up that piece.

The other thing I want to purchase is a flexible carving knife so that I can get down and around the carcass a little better.

I hope I can remember to look for one when I am shopping with Wyona at Winners sometime in the future.

I will probably just buy one on-line, the next time I am in the same house as my Cooks Country magazine and see what they recommend as the very best one possible.

 ... Pouria rests between courses ...

Pouria was a saint. He stood nearby with the lid of the roaster to catch the bones. I was out of large pots by now to collect them in, and both he and I wanted the broth for a great turkey soup in a couple of days.

The downside of boiling the bones is this. Well, first the upside.

It is easy to get the bones going if I just put them in a pot and let them start simmering while we are eating Christmas dinner.

a small stool for a chair, a medium stool for a table

I have that recipe in my head.

Throw in a couple of onions, a carrot or two and 12 whole pepper corns and then let the simmering go on for the rest of the evening and into the night.

 ... Amir and 4 month old Alice ...

The downside is that just as I am getting ready to go to bed, that is when I remember that the simmering pot has to come off of the stove.

The meat and bones should be cooled, separated and the product put out in the snow to cool for the night, since by now there is no room in the fridge for anything more – the fridge being packed with the Christmas dinner leftovers.

And that is what we will be eating today -- the left overs.


The soup will come later.

Yum.

.

On Making Billie's Bun Recipe

... the initial look ...
... flour just barely  incorporated into wet ingredients ...

On the food blog I posted a recipe that Billie Bates gave to me.

Forty years later, I would have no idea of how many times I have put the ingredients in that recipe together.

She taught me how to do the dough by hand -- so I must not have had my electric mixer yet.

I did the recipe on two separate days this week.

The first was for the party at Marcia's house.

Amir asked me how I got the goodness in the buns.


I had to tell him that 3/4 of sugar, 1/2 cup of butter and 8 eggs in the dough helped a lot.

... after a couple of minutes of mixing,
the dough hook has cleaned the sides of the bowl ...

The camera does a good job at catching the look of the dough at the right consistency. 

After incorporating the wet and dry ingredients, and 30 seconds to a minute or more of beating the dough, the ingredients pull away from the side of the bowl. 

That is when I know I have the right amount of flour in the mix. 

I am always testing for "softness" with my finger. I don't want to get too much flour incorporated -- that will make the dough too stiff and I won't get the same product. 

The bowl I use is just a little too small for the recipe. 

5 across, 7 down

What happens is the dough spins around and then climbs the inner spindle, until it climbs right to the top, swinging erratically on top, but not enough to make my machine walk itself off of the counter. 

I haven't take the time to cut back on the ingredients. 

 I just watch carefully for the five minutes it will take to come to a place where it is ready to drop out of the bowl and into a slightly warm metal bowl where it will rise.

... the dough rests in the bowl ...
you can tell how soft it is.
I have taken the little pieces left in the bowl
after I got the dough out,
and just thrown them on top.
The pieces  just flatten out and incorporate themselves.

 
I was poking around with this, seeing if I could produce a picture that would let people know how soft the dough should be. 

 So here it is, waiting to rise. Billie used to have me wait 3 hours before I rolled it into buns. 

Now I find a very warm place in the kitchen and this round, the dough was already spilling over the sides of the pan before I got back to it in two hours. 

Those who ate the product wouldn't have known. 

... in 2 hours, dough begins to spill over the pan ...

I just took the dough that was curving over the sides of the bowl, slipped it back on top, did not punch it down, but went right to rolling the buns. 

The guys who live here ate all they wanted. 

The next day they didn't eat any. 

... close up of texture of risen dough ... very airy ...

One is not enough, they say, and five is too many. 

At least 5 is too many if one is counting calories.

Arta