the carrot, not the stick...

 it is currently -8°C (14°F), feeling like -18°C (1­°F), as i begin. i just got through nearly dislocating my (already injured) shoulder by wrenching open a door that was frozen shut. oh… and i am battling my first head cold of the season. 

happy Winter Solstice, everyone!

what was so important that it was worth the risk of (re)injury, you ask? an agreement that cannot be broken, i respond. i was concerned that the birds and the squirrels would not realize that there was food in their special bowl, so i ventured out just long enough to brush away some of the snow and top it up with a handful of (unfrozen) food. 

selfless as it may seem, this is actually a carefully calculated investment. i developed a significant case of SAD-ness last Winter, and i ended up befriending a squirrel. my new friend started showing up every day for lunch, and i obliged by sharing my food. the problem with feeding Nature is that you end up also feeding Nature’s friends. fast-forward to the present, and we are buying raw peanuts and bird feed by the kilo. lucky for me, Nature has the coolest friends! 

i was initially afraid that feeding Nature would result in the total destruction of this Summer’s balcony garden project. turns out, Nature responds much better to the carrot, not the stick. 

i was so convinced that the squirrels would take my Wintertime offerings as an invitation to consume everything, that i planted a test-run garden in one of the window boxes. i went with plants that could withstand the cold, as it was still early in the season. enter… lettuce and nasturtiums! 

i had already accepted the likelihood of finding it uprooted the next day, and having to reconsider our plans for the transplants we had already ordered from the nursery. what happened, you ask? absolutely nothing, i respond. we harvested the larger lettuce leaves every couple-few days, and the plants kept going for several weeks, before bolting. 

and, just like that, an understanding was formed. we made a daily offering to Nature, and our plants remained undisturbed. it sounds too simple to be true, but the carrot really worked, and i rewarded their self-control by occasionally adding something special to the mix. the birds and the squirrels all seem to enjoy the petals and seeds from the zinnias. they gobbled up any flowers that fell to the ground, but they never messed with the plants. so, i might include that in the mix.

or, an occasional sweet treat, just for the squirrels. yes, i eat Honeycomb cereal. have i lost your respect for that? 

i placed sections of chicken wire on top of the soil, to discourage the squirrels from digging there, but they left everything else alone. everything, that is, except for the mini sunflower. it was downright comical having to move that one pot around, and every new location seemed to further enrage the squirrel. that poor sunflower must have done something extra-wrong in a past life.

there was also that time we took too long getting out of bed, so the squirrel let itself in to get some peanuts. i kid you not… the squirrel figured out how to open the safety latches on the cat door, and it came in for breakfast. nothing else was disturbed. the squirrel had one target, and when it had satisfied that hunger, it went right back out the kitty door. i should point out that the cat absolutely refuses to use the flap, as she enjoys the frustration of making me open and close doors at her command. so, i just shook my head in defeat and taped it shut. 

the season quickly drew to a close. the large planters were covered and neatly stacked for the Winter, and the last harvest of beans was consumed with ramen. i have gotten much better at resisting the allure of wheaty things (allergies, if you are new here), but i still indulge every now and then.  

 still, Nature kept showing up.

sometimes, it brought a date. it took weeks to finally get a shot of these two together, as the female (i assume, as she is the smaller of the two) takes off at the slightest movement. their coloring becomes slightly washed out in the Winter, and they start looking less blue, and more like silvery-violet jays.

you enjoy that meal, friend. 

i took tons of photos of this year’s garden, and i plan hope to share more of them. maybe i will do so during the SADdest part of Winter, when i need to be reminded of the existence of sunshine and warmth. 

until then, i am taking all of the precautions to avoid a relapse of last Winter. most of all, i am making plans. 

next year's balcony garden project will be the best one yet. that is, if we manage to survive the Winter… and the (literal) gangs of turkeys that have been attacking people all over the city. Montreal is wild, for real. 

April in (not) Paris...

there is also my other favorite new thing. kinda looks like a bowl of spaghetti and uncooked brain, no? it is not food, but does come with a bit of a sweet backstory.

you see... i had a childhood friend named April, although no one—including her family— ever called her that. we went to the same private school in Brooklyn, where we were part of a friendship quintet of sorts. the title of my best friend, however, went to one of the other girls in that clique. 

then, everything changed when high school attacked!

our quintet parted ways, and all of those friendships quickly evaporated... except for April. our families lived in different parts of the City (mine in Brooklyn, hers in Queens), and we went to high schools in different parts of the City (mine in lower Manhattan, hers in the north Bronx). still... she quickly became my most-trusted confidant, and my (occasional) accomplice in mischief... before, during, or after the fact, as required. she was my best friend!  

April went to a college several states away, and she remained several states away. her family had experienced some difficulties, and they chose to pick up the pieces and carry on closer to where she was. we never tried to force "keeping in touch". after so much sorrow and loss, i understood why she wanted to stay gone. 

and, just like that... i lost my best friend. 

i bring up all of this because her name—although no one ever called her that—and the memory of that friendship is the only positive thing i have to say about "April". as far as the calendar is concerned... April is dead to me!

January and February can be a battle for your sanity in this ridiculously cold place, but April...? April is a treacherous, back-stabbing bi... April sucks! 

there i was, repotting some seedlings, and foolishly making plans for this year's balcony garden project...

when April in Montreal happened. fifteen(ish) years in this place, and it still gets me every single time.

him: there is a snowfall warning in effect for Quebec and the Greater Montreal Area.

me: say what, now?

him: there is a snowfall warning in effect for Quebec and the Greater Montreal Area... if we even get any snow at all. 

the next day. 

i felt sorry for Norbert. he looks like Tyrone Biggums waiting to score. bonus point if you got that. 

i am genuinely embarrassed for having spent the past few months feeding this menace.

we are gonna have to start claiming his peanut allowance as a business expense for the studio. can you draw or write a script, Norbert? 

naturally, i was feeling betrayed—yet again— by this deceitful month. so, i dyed some yarn... and i kept on dyeing, until i came up with a new favorite! i see falling cherry blossoms and pink and white tulips in bloom. you know... things that normally happen in Spring. 

i am calling this one April in (not) Paris. 

trust me when i say that this one is special. the yarn consists of a cotton mesh tube knitted around a polyamide core. acid dyes (the stuff i use on wool) works on polyamide... but not on cotton. in essence, i dyed the core of the yarn, and left the outer layer the original color. 

i went with the slow immersion technique to achieve a gradient in the color (433 Strawberry Red, which seems to be unavailable at present). i love how different this yarn looks going from wet to dry. 

i dyed 400 grams of this yarn, which should be enough for a garment for self, and i made sure to keep the knot in the center of the lightest section. this is the sort of thing my brand of OCD demands. best of all, it is totally wool free, which means i can wear it with zero allergy concerns.  so... yay, me!!!

now, pardon me while i crank the thermostat back up (as the overnight temperature will be hovering near freezing), and maybe listen to some music for old folks, while i work on a puzzle. see you in May... maybe. 

clockwork murder in the orange hour...

i need to sign up for some sort of non-dating service where you can meet people in your area who possess very specific knowledge and interests. in my case, i am in need of someone who either knows way too much about the habits of Montreal crows... or, who is willing to be my designated driver for a couple hours a day, while i hang out a car window, trying to track them in flight. 

but, before all of that... i made the mistake of hoping that it would be a sunny day, until the animator opened the curtains. 

me: why is it so... gray?

him: it's not that bad.

then he leaned forward to look at something down at street level, made a noise, then instantly assumed the universally-understood tone of voice that is reserved expressly for delivering bad news.

him: you know that orange work sign across the street?

me: uhm... yeh...?

him: well... the orange is gray. 

then i sighed and pulled the covers back over my head. 

why are we even talking about this, you ask? because i can talk about whatever the hell i want, for a start. but, mostly, because i found myself sat cross-legged, staring at the sky today, wondering if "it" was going to happen. 

twice a day, weather permitting, the sun reaches the perfect elevation in the sky to send all of its lovely rays streaming (horizontally) through our place. we call it "the orange hour". the sunrise orange hour is usually the more subtle of the two, as there are only a couple windows on that side of the building. 

the sunset orange hour, however, is a thing of indescribable beauty. the SW wall is more glass than bricks, and the whole place just glows. the color is amplified by the terracotta colored walls in the living and dining rooms. it is like sitting cross-legged on a sofa... inside of an active volcano. 

the "hour" lasts only a few minutes in the Winter, but we get Snyder Cut orange hours come Summer. and this happens twice every single day. 

there is also the other thing that happens twice every single day. right after the sun rises and again before it sets, the skies over Montreal become some sort of HOV lane for a large murder of crows. twice every single day, like clockwork, they head SW in the morning, and they take the return flight back, just as the sun threatens to set. 

i just really want to know where they are going, and i might even have to risk making a new friend if that will finally bring me some answers. 

so, there i was this afternoon, sipping my hot beverage and catching up with Norbert. (s)he had stopped by for a snack of stale tortilla chips and puddles of melted ice water. i kept glancing up from my screen, hopeful that the depressingly-overcast clouds would part just long enough for me to (literally) bask in the glow of sunset. 

however, it is still a cold, damp, gray Winter day here in Metropolis North, so i had to settle for clockwork murder in the orange hour... and, of course, the orange was gray. le sigh!

Norbert took off when the evening commute started, lest the crows get any funny ideas. so, i just carried on sipping my beverage, and enjoying the antics of the passing forms. they do not exactly fill the whole sky, but there is a steady ribbon of crows that follow the same path always, and it goes on for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour... or more. and this happens twice every single day, unless we are experiencing a storm of some type. 

there are always a few stragglers, flapping extra hard to catch up with the rest of the murder. 

in the Summer, the shapes of crows would be displaced by silhouettes of bats heading out for an evening hunt... which is usually my signal to go inside. maybe i need to make two friends with special interests, because i also really need to know where those bats hang out all day. 

Montreal is like the mob...

have i ever mentioned that we fell in love with this place because of the view? 

we were not even planning on staying in Montreal when we moved here. we had a list of open houses to check out over in Ottawa the next day, when we happened to notice a listing for this place, and it was just a few blocks away. what could it hurt, right?

then got we got here. 

the building is a hundred-plus years old, and you have to walk up four flights of stairs (oh, yes... there is no elevator). it was absolute love at first sight. 

this building... this neighborhood... this whole ridiculously cold city is just so damn charming!

i love old architecture. this is something i tend to blame on my mom's little brother. he is an Architectural Engineer. back when i was a youth, i used to love driving around NYC with him. he would pull over in random places, and get out of the car to point out all those tiny, inconsequential design elements of the older buildings around us. it left me with a lifelong habit of always looking up at those little structural touches. should i ever accidentally bump into you, because i was staring at the trim on a roof, or studying the design of a window casement... that is not my fault. just send him the dry cleaning bill.  

still, there is one frustrating thing about old buildings. no one seems to have anticipated that electricity would be such a hit. who knew, right? it probably took us more than a year to figure out the different combinations of appliances that could be turned on at the same time. the fallout from countless failed attempts has left us both so traumatized, that we still make a point of issuing a verbal warning before plugging anything into an outlet. most of all... it is firmly understood that you ABSOLUTELY MUST pause the washer-dryer before turning on the kettle or... well, just hope you saved whatever you were working on, because all the computers would definitely have turned off. so much fun! 

and, ridiculous as it sounds, that is part of the charm of the thing. we absolutely love this place. neither one of us has any real connection to Montreal, and we have already decided that the next time we move, it will be out of the City... which is what we were trying to do when we found this place. 

turns out, Montreal is like the mob. just when we thought we were out, it pulled us back in. so, here we will remain for now.

sure, there are zero electric outlets in the bathroom, and i still do not want to know what would happen should we ever open that old dumbwaiter door in the kitchen. but, seriously... check out that view. 

[sunset, Dec 10, 2023. edited to correct the year.]

silly and fun and altogether delicious...

if i were to assess (say, on a scale of one-to-ten) how much of an emotional wreck i have been of late, it would probably average out somewhere near seventeen. life is like that these days. however, there was one wholly-absurd and thoroughly-enjoyable bright spot we got to share. 

a certain animator had a birthday recently, and we used that event as an excuse to indulge in a multi-day festival of foods delivered from some restaurants in the area. we are selflessly doing our part to keep the local economy alive. that's my story, and i'm sticking to it!

some were places that were already known to us, but we discovered a few new gems along the way... like Wienstein & Gavino's (he loved their lasagna), and the indescribable desserts from Bon Et Petit (they are so awesome, they don't need no stinkin' website!). 

then there was that other dish. this one requires a bit of explaining. 

if you have never heard of a thing called poutine, be glad. the dish—and i use that term very loosely—consists of fries topped with gravy and something the locals refer to as cheese curds. oh, and i should probably mention that the curds are supposed to squeak when you chew them, earning them the nickname of squeaky cheese. 

but wait... it gets worse!

the curds lose that disturbing auditory quality when refrigerated, so cheese curds are usually kept at room temperature. the absolute worst part is that they sell them everywhere! no exaggeration, you can find plastic bags of fresh cheese curds on the cashier counter of almost every gas station... right next to the breath mints and the cigarette lighters. that is how much they love their poutine in Quebec, and that is probably the main reason why i have been avoiding the stuff since my very first visit to Montreal (some eighteen-ish years ago, if you need all the details). 

what does any of this have to do with his birthday, you ask? patience. i was just getting to that bit.

birthdays around here are often used to guilt the other person into doing stuff to which they might otherwise object. some call this "love". i had absolutely refused to eat the rabbit he cooked for New Year's (a story for some other day), which meant that i already owed him one.  

so, there we were, with his birthday happening at the end of something called La Poutine Week, where restaurants all over Quebec (and beyond) come up with outrageous combos of poutine toppers to reflect their cuisine. the animator kept reading me the descriptions of some of the local offerings in the misguided hope that he would tempt me to give it a try, so i knew that it was only a matter of time.

him: ooh... there's butter chicken poutine. you love butter chicken.
me: i do. it's one of my favorite foods. i just don't want it on soggy chips with gas station cheese.
him: or, what about this one? lobster poutine! you love lobster.
me: exactly. i love lobster far too much to do it the disservice of ending up atop poutine. 

now, i should point out that he had never even tasted poutine—despite living in Canada his whole life—which made his attempt at a guilt-trip all the more ridiculous. 

me: i am not stopping you from eating poutine. get it. eat whatever you want. 

him: i know, but i want to share this experience with you.
me: why do i have to be tortured so you can satisfy your curiosity?

him: that's how the love works. 

me: good luck with that. 

then he made some comment about me being no fun, which i reminded him was part of my charm. still, it was his special day multi-day celebration, so i gave in. and, after going through the whole list of local offerings, we narrowed it down to the Baby Back Black Velvet Poutine from McCarold, a new-to-us pub a short drive from our place...

or the Philly Cheesesteak Poutine from an old favorite, Notre Boeuf de Grâce.  

[random aside: the restaurant's name is a play on Notre Dame de Grâce (NDG), our neighborhood here in Montreal. i had mixed feeling when they first opened (about a block away from our old place) in the location previously occupied by D.A.D.'s Bagel, a business that was much-loved by the locals. D.A.D.'s was open around the clock, and we would often pop in there during one of our late night walks. i liked going there in wee hours when they were making the mountains of bagels that would be sold at cafes and other such places around town. it was mesmerizing to watch them being moved in and out of the large wood-burning oven. i vowed to hate whatever business took its place... which lasted all of a few months.] 

where was i, again? oh, yes... poutine. 

so, after way more debate than most sane people would find necessary, we settled on the Black Velvet Poutine. it showed up looking just as i expected, like so many servings of poutine i had seen being consumed by other human beings: soggy fries and scattered lumps of gas station cheese. this was not going to end well. 

i took one look, and made the face that he knew from experience meant he would probably be eating it all alone. still, it was his birthday, and i had promised to give it a try, so i stabbed my fork into a chip, and gave it a taste. 

it was a-maz-ing!

i went in for a second bite in silence, stabbing a chunk of the meat this time. this was the point when i started regretting that we had not gotten two orders, because i was definitely not feeling inclined to share. we paused briefly to exchange our mutual (wholly-unexpected) enjoyment of the combination of saucy meat and fries, and we instantly made plans to check out some of the pub's regular offerings in the future. 

but there was still that other thing. 

me: i'm kinda afraid to try the cheese curds.
him: yeh. me too.
me: i'll be freaked out if i bite into something and it squeaks

him: but it would be false advertising if it doesn't squeak. 
me: i know. that's why i'm scared. 

him: me too. let's try it at the same time.

so we did. and it does. and we both laughed because it was silly and fun and altogether delicious. so now we are looking forward to Poutine Week 2022. meanwhile, i have to find something even more absurd delectable for us to try when my birthday rolls around. 

everything is upcoming...

two random observations before i begin.

1) kimchi-flavored Korean ramen topped with slices of Jamaican jerk pork is the cultural collaboration that will bring about world peace.

and...

2) this does not look like a cat who is guarding my strawberries from squirrels.

i pointed out said fact to her, so she yawned and did this. useless!

i had a birthday recently, which we decided to celebrate by turning it into a three-day weekend of random stuff. seriously... if you had a choice between going to work on Friday, or driving around Montreal doing random stuff, which would you choose??? exactly!

so, off we went, and stuff we did, including a stop at a little shop on the other side of town that sells... well... random stuff. you can see why i had to go there, right? exactly!

we purchased a large bag of soy-wax pellets, and several bottles of scented oils, which will be featured in an upcoming crafty adventure... for TWO. [i emphasized that last bit in case he thought that his involvement with said project ended with sniffing bottles of essential oil in a shop that looks like a slice of Hippie Heaven.]

we were a few blocks away from Marché Jean-Talon, so we absolutely had to spend some time there. to call this place a "farmer's market" is an understatement of epic proportions. it is a MASSIVE wonderland of random stuff (mostly) of the culinary variety. there are stalls and specialty shops selling just about any food ingredient you could imagine. best of all are the delicious smells of things being cooked all around you.

there is a little house across the street from the market that i want to live in one day, mainly because it has a large arbor of grapes growing in the front yard (take THAT, people with your pointless front lawns), but also because it is so close to what is possibly my favorite spot in all of Montreal... possibly.

we managed to forego the temptation of having lunch at the market, but we did enjoy a few samples of things as we wandered around, filling our bag with fruits and veggies as we went.

we spent quite a bit of time daydreaming among the sprawling assortment of transplants and other gardeny things, but as the balcony garden project is already at past capacity, we had to walk away empty-handed. we did, however, stumble upon someone selling tiny potted indoor plants, which has been at the top of my must-find list.

we got a small assortment of tropical stuff for another upcoming crafty adventure.

i need to start working on this particular project soon today for two reasons. having made the mistake of letting his dad in on the plant-related plans, we are now receiving almost-daily inquiries into its progress. we tend to procrastinate overthink things before getting them started, which is driving his dad bonkers, as he is the type who has the thing made/built before the idea is done forming in his head.

then there is my crazy cat Cordy (the useless littlest one of the three) who refuses to take my word for it that miniature palm trees are not an exotic kitty snack.

so now i have to hurry up and get the thing done, if only to 1) put his dad out of the stress of waiting, and 2) save me from strangling an adorable little cat.

we decided to take the super-scenic route and drive through downtown on our way back home. we had to settle instead for crawling  past downtown (for reasons which will become clear in a moment). we eventually got home, where we grilled some amazing things, and i i was introduced to what may become my new favorite beer. the sun was shining, and i was in my happy place. best birthday ever!

my three-day-weekend birthday happened to coincide with the Montreal Grand Prix, which usually involves the entire downtown area being blocked off from vehicular traffic. as a result, the city of Montreal—which is already renowned for being a "party town"—turns into a veritable carnival with locals and all of the folks who roll into town just for the race doing their best to delight all of the senses.

so where did we head for Saturday's adventure? that is correct! we went to the opposite end of town, and spent some time at one of the large (quiet) parks along the canals. [fun fact: Montreal is an island in the middle of a large river, so there are lots of canals and other waterfront sites to be enjoyed literally all around the city... cause... you know... it is a small island... in a river... literally...!]

and what did we do at the quiet park, you ask? we wandered around, collecting bits of stuff that used to be attached to the trees. this too will feature in an upcoming project. everything is upcoming it seems.

this little twig chose me, but i cannot seem to figure out how to make it do magic stuff. there i was, walking around  the park, twig in hand, practicing my swish and flick wholly unapologetically. i hear what you are thinking... and i really do not care.

we went over to the other side of the park, where i was mesmerized by people fishing, but that did not last long, as evening was slowly creeping in, and the bugs (and my allergies) were telling me that it was time to flee. so we came home... and grilled some other delicious things.

then we decided to relax on Sunday. so we stayed in... and grilled even more delicious things. we also watched a lot of random stuff during the course of the three-day-weekend, (mostly) of my own choosing, as it was my own personal national holiday. [i will be apologizing for years for subjecting him to the terror that was the Michael Bay Transformers films, which will (likely) be the subject of an upcoming post/rant about frustrating things.]

with so much stuff upcoming, i better get started with all the necessary procrastinating planning.