When we're helping we're happy ...

Helping at Grandma's House
... first I will measure how long it it ...
Photos: Catherine Jarvis

I had breakfast, lunch and supper at the house next door, even though they were so busy that I don’t know when they ate.

For lunch, I took my own over there, only to find them gone.

Still, I sat there and ate for Kelve was just leaving so we chatted for a while. I can always find someone in that house, even when the family isn’t there.

The biking trio were off for a visit to one of their favourite playgrounds as soon as the crepes were finished. I can see them coming and going.

The bike tires roll by my basement window – first Michael’s tires.  He rides a customized two-wheeler, his mom having knit a tube for the handle bars and a colourful cushion for the seat of the bike.

Then wheels of Richard’s bike go by the window -- pulling a child carrier behind it.

 I can only see Alice’s helmet. They ride off into the day.

... cooperation is good ...

Coming back  from their trip Michael stops to knock at the window and do sign language asking me if I have any candy.

I sign language back to him. I tell him that all of my candy is at his dad’s house.

They had bicycled by the neighbour's house (Jan and Gino’s) and she had delivered a plastic bag to them.

They are too young to know that the 3 foil-wrapped bunnies in the bag are Lindt chocolate Easter rabbits.

 I am interested in the unwrapping of the gifts: take the bell off of the neck of the confection, put the red ribbon around a wrist and then to commence seeing if the bunny were a solid piece or moulded.

.... these scissors aren't working that well ...

Michael started with the ears. 

They are solid chocolate and he slows down after a few bites. 

There is only so much chocolate a person can eat without having some water nearby.

Biting into the body and finding it a hollow cavity was the second part of the adventure, dumping out chocolate shavings and then licking the chards from the palms of their hands.

 His hand is now faintly chocolate on top of the playground dirt.

The children popped back into the house to get their swimming suits for an hour in the Foothills Pool before setting out on the LRT for the Saddle Dome where Aggie days was running: bring the farm to the city.

... keeping the other hand a long ways away
from the head of the hammer ...

 Some of the animals could be touched, a rare joy for urban children who only read about farm animals in books. In the saddle dome there were sheep dogs, cutting sheep from a flock.

When the kids began to explain where they had gone, that it was up many steps and then down a few, I had my own memory of going to watch a North American contest between sheep dogs.

That was a day at the Stampede where I didn’t go anywhere else. The commentator is what made the performance so interesting.

In yesterday’s event the dog was not allowed to get any closer than three feet away from the sheep, and then the dog has to stare the sheep down, pretty difficult with experienced sheep who just aren’t going to be stared down by a dog like that.

... if one hammer is good, two is better ...

We ate risotto at night – creamy, cheesy, a new food that was impossible for Michael to eat. He was bribed to put less than ½ a teaspoon in his mouth: one bite and he would get one Swiss Delice chocolate. Even the chocolate with that creamy hazelnut taste didn’t make getting another ½ teaspoon worth the trouble for him.

He got the chocolate and a sticker for his valiant try. Last night I was wondering if it were the new food or if he was too bagged from a full family day and too tired to eat. Either way he is starting a new chart: 10 stickers and you get a prize. I hope the prize is a new transformer. The old one got put in the garbage for it kept hitting Betty.

Just hoping because that transformer had been a favourite toy.

Arta

The Renovation Restaurant

Hello,

Yesterday, in between cutting in the last coat of paint around the top of the front room, filling in the holes in the pantry molding with white wood filler, and mudding some of the holes on the living room walls, I remembered that the gas tank on my car was reading empty when I drove over in the morning.

I slipped up to the Coop to get gas -- at which time I found out I was at the 16th Ave and 64th Street Coop, one doesn't have a gas bar -- as opposed to the 24th Ave and 52nd Street one that does. How am I supposed to know that? I am new to the Penbrooke neighbourhood.

I had seen a mom and pop Latin American restaurant on the way to the gas station, advertising empenadas, and wondered if Trell would like those. I was past the intersection where I should have turned by the time all of that went through my mind.

I continued up to the Coop where, since I couldn't fill up with gas, I got their Hot and Spicy Thai Chicken Wings to go, which Trell and I shared for lunch.

Two wooden chairs, an industrial garbage can by our side into which we tossed the bones, and the food laid out on a 3 riser step-ladder between us. Trell was reminiscing about the past and while he acknowledged that there wasn't much money, he wanted to remark that there was plenty of food, more than he saw on the table at his friend's houses.

Then Trell said, "And you always had the table set. Set well."

That might mean that we all had a napkin, a plate, a glass, a knife and a fork.

The bar isn't quite as high now, though Trell and I did each have a bowl on our laps, which only means there still is a bar ... a low bar.

The lunch conversation was still equally enjoyable.

Fit for the table of a queen.

We just didn't have her table deckers working for us.

A

November Snow Falls Turn to Ice

November 28, 2009

Hello from Arta,

I was trapped yesterday.

Trapped Friday, really, for the snow began to fall when I was at Penbrooke. I was standing at the window, taping the pane for painting, and I noticed, not only the beautiful flakes falling onto the road, but I saw the black car tire tracks on the white road, weaving through what was else, a winter wonderland -- white everywhere.

An hour later, I noticed there was a two block line-up going to the traffic light at Penbrooke and Memorial, the line up reaching now to right in front of my house. The cars were moving so slowly, I called Dave Wood to come and watch at the window.

When I began to hear the screaming of wheels rotating in the snow and going nowhere, and saw trucks and cars sliding sideways, but not going forward, I could also hear Dave internally coaching them, whispering out loud, "Take your foot off the gas ... you are going to ruin your axel ... are you crazy, man? Slowly, slowly, not all of that power."

The snowfall’s aftermath has been documented in the news.. I knew not to try to go home, and had prepared myself to be snowed into Trell’s house for the night. Wyona called me to say that she slid into a car while going up a hill – and not to dare venture out on the road. There was a 30 car pile-up on Edmonton Trail. Richard and Miranda said they saw 36 cars had been abandoned by their owners on John Laurie and were still there the next day. Ron Treleaven said that at the top of Silver Springs road he saw a bus slip sideways down that hill, taking with it two lanes of traffic, all 12 cars that were behind him, 6 in each line, shoving all 12 of them into each other.

I stayed put. A simple storm -- a lot of snow and hovering at zero turned the roads into ice, something that we drive in only once or twice a year in Calgary.

David had helped me all day. He installed the dishwasher, the stove, got the fridge in place and did electrical work, putting three electrical lights in for me – downstairs.

David and I took a trip to Home Depot during the day. Shopping for renovating wire, light ballasts and electrical tape is something like shopping for groceries.

Even with a list, it is hard to get home without having missed just two other things that are needed.

Arta

The Pergo Floor

The New Pergo Floor
November 24, 2009

Glen drove in from Annis Bay to lay a Pergo floor in my Penbrooke kitchen this weekend.

As well, Laynie, Glen and I worked together Saturday, which is the equivalent of 3 days work for me. Maybe the equivalent of five days work for me, for both of them work as though they are two people.

Glen explained to both Laynie and me that getting the right tool for the job makes a difference. For example, there is a specialized screw driver that will lift staples. Using that tool is much easier than using long nosed pliers to pull up the bits of foam that are still held on the floor with a staple long after the carpet is removed.

Glen gave me advice through the day. “Let the job do the tool, but taking care that you have the right tool. Treat the tool with respect. If that is not the job for that tool, don’t force it to do work it can’t or you will end up with a broken tool and the job still not done. Lift a nail out of the floor with two hammers, using the claw end of one to get underneath of the nail. Here, hold this end of the tape measure. Do you know what that end is called. The dumb end.”

Most of the tools in the house have the name Richard on them. That is cool for Richard. Richard is a brand name on just about every tool in the house. When I buy a name-branded Richard tool, I scrape off the logo and felt-pen my name in the place I have scratched.

My favorite tool is the Richard’s Metal Retractable Scrapper. I should have known about this tool 30 years ago: it cleans off paint, scraps off dirt, and eliminates calcium deposits with just one stroke. The Metal Retractable Scrapper can cut black mold out of places that a screw driver or an chisel can’t reach.

Today, a week later, I am going to Home Depot to buy my own finishing nails for floor boards and a nail tap.

I am alerting everyone this year. I want tools for Christmas.

Please buy tools to put in the Christmas game. I will choose which one I want most to take home.

Love,

Arta

Well.... this photo (the cherry tree in the back yard last spring) is the OPPOSITE of things right now (the leaves are down and the rains have come), but it is how I FEEL. a world of new growth and wonder!!!!

I speak, of course, of the renovation. We knocked out the dining room wall, put in glass sliding doors, and built a deck (16' by 20')! We also copied Glen and Janet, and stuck a hot-tub in the back yard.

It is getting used by the whole family, especially at night (it has lights inside that change colours.... a nice '70s effect... all we are missing now is the disco ball underneath the deck to complete the look).

The view from the hot tub will never match the view from Glen and Janet's, but I will admit that it is still pretty nice sitting in the hot water at night, looking up at the stars (on those rare occasions in victoria when the cloud lift enough for us to SEE the stars)

so... stay tuned for a photo of our new spring growth (to the house)

Rebecca

A Chinook Wind Blows

A Chinook Wind Blows
November 17, 2009

In the Penbrooke back yard, I watched the wind in the grass today. The weatherman gave a wind warning of 100 mph in southern Alberta. I don’t know how fast the wind was going in Calgary, but I watched the tufts of the fall’s uncut lawn undulate under its power. The clumps of green grass on the lawn are uneven, some four inches high, some six, some bordering eight inches high and they were weaving their way in and out and through each other in the breeze. Flattened into one another, actually, by the gusts. When the wind hit the garage it changed direction from going east to moving north and its abrupt right-angle turn at that point was fascinating me. “Easy,” said Trell, “when the wind hits the garage it must turn and has no place to go but north. You are seeing the grass make the same movement the wind is making.”

“Beautiful,” I said.

“Trust you to find something charming about all of this,” said Trell, for shingles were randomly falling from the roof of the house. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I will pick those up when the wind quits.”

Tonight as I was ready to leave he said, “Arta, that wind you were admiring this afternoon has blown over part of your fence on the south side of the house.”

Oh well. Still beautiful.

As I painted cupboards today, I was remembering a course I took one year on different ways to paint the inside walls of a house. The university had extension courses for everything. I had been thinking about all of the tips that the instructor gave for he had us doing sample projects for two 8 hour days. That means, he had a chance to give many suggestions. To clean a brush so that you can load it up with a new colour, he said, wash the paint out of the brush and then roll the handle of the brush back and forth between your hands, letting the power of the roll cast the excess water out of the newly cleaned brush. This is best done outside, I remembered.

A tip that wasn’t given in the class is to turn off the power drill before lifting the stirring mechanism out of the paint. I do have a good sense of that when I am whipping cream. Ninety-nine percent of the time I turn off the mix master before raising the beaters out of the mixing bowl. Today, I figured out that the skill of turning off a mix master can be transferred to turning off the drill before lifting it out of the paint as well.

Arta

Cell Phones

Cell Phones
November 17th, 2009

I am among the last to see that I might need a cell phone. Kelvin has one, but that is about safety issues for him. My land line works for me … except when I need a phone now that I am at Penbrooke every day. I have been taking his phone with me and you will see later why there is no use giving you the number of that phone. For instance, a novice cell phone user has so much to learn: take the fact that the cell phone actually has to be turned on during the day. That was my first lesson.

I think land line trumps cell phone, all of that fumbling to get the phone out of one’s purse when it rings in a shopping mall, or retrieving the phone from a deep jean pocket while driving … or even something as simple as learning to talk and drive at the same time. Tough stuff for someone who likes both hands on the wheel.

And the menu system? I am told that young kids who have lots of video experience, intuit menus and screens, how to get in and out of them. I have been practicing that as well, sometimes finding myself in an eternal loop – on a simple cell phone. Taking Kelvin’s phone along with me each day seemed like a good idea, given that he was near a landline and could, at the very least, phone me with a list of items he might want me to buy on the way home at night.

After learning all of the lessons above, still, last night I failed on one the important lessons about cell phones: remove it from your pocket before the jeans are tossed in the washing machine. Retrieving the phone when the wash is half done does not count.

Looking forward to a new day, and I have already contacted Glen to see if that old cell phone he offered me is still available.

Love,

Arta

Flying Disks and Sweeny Todd

Flying Disks and Sweeny Todd, Nov 15, 2009

Last month, Glen showed me how to use David Wood’s square sander to rough up the edges of the kitchen cupboard doors. The sander failed on me, broke about half way through the job, so I rented one from Home Depot today, a round one. The clerk sold me sand paper disks and gave me a lesson on how to attach them to the main unit, even putting the first one on for me. The disk and the main unit velcro together. No folding, cutting and clamping the sandpaper any more. How easy can that be!

The bonus is that if I finished the job in 4 hours the cost would only be $8 instead of t$12 for a 24 hour rental. Being timed, I didn’t loose a moment but began to sand right away, disappointed when I ran my hand over the surface and I found could not get any results with that sander. No results at all. I turned it over to see if the holes on the sandpaper and sander had been perfectly lined up, as the clerk told me to do, finding instead that he had taken the sandpaper off and slipped it back into the package of four that I was buying. The sanding went smoothly after I got the sand paper attached to the sander … for about 8 more cupboard doors.

I was enjoying the sky as I was working, watching the most beautiful Chinook I have ever seen. The arch in the sky was at least ¾ of the way up and the Chinook wind was pushing black and darkening cumulous clouds directly to the south and the north. I tried to think of words to describe the edges of the cloud that were being pushed back, for they were rolling over one another, layered with depth, differing hues of back and grey, marshmallow like. I was contemplating stretching my arms straight out so see if I would get the diameter of a circle pointing to both edges of the Chinook. But still sanding I didn’t try my experiment.

A sudden jerk and I grabbed tighter to the sander. At the same time I saw the disk on the bottom of the sander spin off the unit, Mary-Poppins-like, shoot upward over the fence, over the telephone poles, spinning in the Chinook wind high over the rooves and landing somewhere on the road beyond, a fence hiding my view of its touch-down.

Curiosity got the best of me. I put down the sander and went to find the flying unit – a good thing for the bottom of the sander had gone with the sandpaper. The charm of learning about house renovations: multiple trips to Home Depot, a trade in for a new sander, learning about the vagaries of rental equipment, the possibility of get an extension on a “4 hours for $8” contract, all wrapped up in one package.

Richard joined me at Penbrooke, doing electrical work. He said that the highlight of his day was with a fluorescent fixture downstairs. When he removed it he saw that it had been piggy backed onto another recessed ceiling light with a coat-hanger. “Coat hangers have a variety of purposes, but this probably isn’t a good one,” he remarked, shaking is head. He has been replacing all of the light fixtures upstairs, and last month, when Trell saw that four relatively new units were coming down, he suggested that they go to the basement, into his rooms. Richard was on an electronic roll for me yesterday, but when he went to make the replacement for Trell an old fear surface in Trell, the fear of a job started and not going to be finished, the fear of living for two to five years in a construction zone, he said. Articulating that conclusion took 3 of us five minutes, a parting of company, then two of us some breathing space, added to which was another 10 minutes of talking, with only one of us understanding the “other’s” side of the picture. Deep seated fears had explode in Trell and it was impossible for me to know where his eruption came from without the dialogue. And still, I am left not knowing all.

I stopped by Wyona’s to fill out Zoe’s timesheet on the way home. Tim and Lurene were there, Tim doing a crossword puzzle and Lurene off getting pizza -- their first day of rest since June when they began practicing with the Victor Mitchell Theatre’s production of Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Tim played the trombone in the pit, Lurene sang in the chorus, Charise helped backstage.

I saw SweenyTodd from the second balcony of the Jubilee about five years ago. Friday night Wyona and I had our seats in the stalls, front and centre. Lurene had alerted Wyona about the mad scene in Fogg’s Asylum because the chorus had all been told to create their own characters who might have been in such a place in the late 1800’s. Zoe’s involuntary hand movements were on stage, mimed through Lurene, exquisitely patterned. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Lurene: an actress, a singer, a trombonist. Wyona added later about Lurene, that she has been asked to play in the pit for the Mitchell’s January production of Hello Dolly. Too bad she has to have a day job as well, for her life might be perfect if she could only live her night work.

We talked for a while about the production last night as we ate pizza. I told Wyona that though she and I have been seeing the highest quality of the world’s musical’s in London, there was something so vibrant and alive about this production that I would have to put it on par with our other experiences as far as audience enjoyment for me is concerned. I have always been charmed by the less sophisticated performances, in sports as well. I would take a high school basketball game over the MBA anytime.

Friday, the performance by Judge Turpin was so disturbingly licentious and evil that there was something inside of me wanting to call the police. Lurene and I agreed that his performance had been so good that no one even refers to it when citing who did a good job on stage. Jail him, or in this case – get in him the barber’s chair. As well, I told Lurene that the rape scene had been choreographed so as to reveal nothing and at the same time, everything. She said that she didn’t like being in the chorus every night at that point, having to watch on stage, be part of the crowd that gathered near. How is that for performance doing its job -- creating the loathing and disgust Stephen Sondheim intends with music, creating that even in those on stage? How is that for great art?

On a happier note, there were meat pies, every night, to be eaten by the actors, meat pies from SAIT. Lurene said when we went to the Hywood Lunch Buffet last week, “Look, I am even eating the crumbs from my plate in real life, just as I do in the performance as we sing, ‘God That’s Good”.

The last night of the performance everyone had to stay to take the set down, so even the guys in the pit got to try the barber’s chair, the one that shoots people out and down a slide into Mrs. Lovett’s meat grinder and oven. Only one of the musicians was injured as he came down the shoot Saturday night – oh my gosh, life is funny.

The sunrise is at 7:55 today. I have another hour and 10 minutes before that part of my day begins. Hello to everyone on my first try blogging.

Love,

Arta