Expanding Our Family

Scooter

No, I'm not pregnant! (That joke never gets old. I'll probably be telling it on my death-bed. Heck, I'd probably still tell it if my shriveled-up womb were in a bowl beside me. Ick. Sorry. Look at the picture of the adorable doggy.)

My sister, Pat, and her husband, Ross, are moving to Switzerland (lucky them!) and have reluctantly realized that their geriatric dog will not be making the move with them. There are quarantine requirements and she has a docked tail, which Switzerland does not allow. (I should note that Pat & Ross did not have her docked. She came to them that way.) She has arthritis and takes estrogen supplements.

Scooter is a lovely, and much-loved, dog. We have offered her a home with our family. For now, she is with us for a week. This is actually her second visit - she came for three days in early July.

At that visit, she and our cat, Elly, circled around each other -- no growling or hackles, just cautious observation.

Cautious kitty

Today, they looked at each other with a "Oh, you again" nod, then went on with their lives. Steve and I went out for a show. (Cirque du soleil!!!) When we came home, they were both asleep in the living room.

It humours me how similar they are:

• arthritic
• white with brown-and-black spots
• submissive
• quiet

Ross, who has been Scooter's "Alpha" for her entire life, is heartbroken at leaving her, and I feel so sad for him. I suspect that, quite aside from his own sense of loss, he worries that Scooter may not be loved by us as much as she is by him. But she will. She's just that kind of dog.

She's already attached herself to Stephen (she really likes men), and I'm pretty sure that, in six months or so, the cat and dog will be licking each other and lying by the fire.

So that's the big change in our household. No babies. Just a menopausal old bitch welcoming a lovely dog to her home.

Backyard Menagerie and Kitchen Mystery

The weather this weekend was absolute bliss. This afternoon (after running a few errands), I threw on my swimsuit, grabbed a cold beer and my Kindle, and made my way to the patio.

After splashing inelegantly for a while, I sat in the shade to read. I hadn't been sitting there long when I heard some chittering and chattering from beneath the bird feeder.

Short, dark, and handsome

But he (she?) was not alone.

A cute little redhead

Surprisingly, they seemed to get along quite amicably. Eventually the squirrel left, and the chipmunk was joined by two nondescript little birds.

"There's plenty for all of us."

Those cheeks are filled to bursting!

Eventually, I abandoned the oasis to help make dinner. On the menu tonight were these.

Have you ever seen such a thing?

I thought they were some kind of exotic bean - they were delivered with our weekly "surprise box" of organic veggies. But as I topped and tailed them in preparation for steaming, I was greeted with a decidedly oniony-garlicky aroma. I stopped what I was doing and Googled images for "bean-like onion flavour."

Sure enough, this image popped up:

Source

Which led to a recipe for pistachio and "garlic scape" pesto. These greens are actually NOT beans (or alien pods); they are the sprouts from garlic bulbs and they are called scapes. Although the recipe describes them as having a mild flavour when raw, I found them a little too pungent, but sauteed a couple of them in butter and found them to be quite a delicious garnish for potatoes or for the Swiss chard I had steamed.

I am very glad I didn't try steaming them. Can't imagine that would have turned out well.

I'm as Graceful as a Goat*.

Which is to say, not very graceful at all. Not by a long stretch. (Those of you who've read my blog for a while know that this is true.)

Recently, however, I seem to have developed a specialty in destroying white shirts and blouses, particularly where coffee is concerned.

Evidence:

That is a sploosh of coffee down the front of a previously pristine white T-shirt. It happened on my very last day at my old job and prompted me to pop down to a nearby store and purchase a new blouse. (One I like very much, but it was not a planned purchase at all.)

And then, on the very first day at my new job. I grabbed a coffee (in an open-top mug) on my way to a meeting. Almost immediately, I dripped coffee down my front. It was not quite as remarkable as the mess above - and I did have a jacket I could cover it with, but still.

I made a point of finishing the coffee during the meeting, but I still managed to spill it a SECOND TIME when I twisted my arm so I could read the time on my watch. Fortunately, there was only a drip of coffee left and it landed on the floor.

The next day, I brought in a mug with a lid.

On my fifth day in the new office, I managed to knock my (almost empty) mug over during a meeting. No blouses were defaced, but my paperwork was splattered.

Do they make no-spill sippy mugs for coffee? If not, why not?

* In retrospect, goats really aren't that clumsy, are they? I mean, those things can climb cliffs!!! But when I tried to think of another simile, I came up blank. Giraffes look klutzy, but they are actually quite graceful when they run, considering their grotesquely long necks. Google presented some klutzy penguins, but they look rather graceful to me. Look at that recovery!

The Last of Our Irish Adventure

The last full day of our Irish adventure had us visiting the crystal workshops at Waterford and the Dunbrody "famine ship" at New Ross before finishing the day back in Dublin.

But before I go on, I want to share one of the curious things we found visiting an "old country:" the number of times we saw something like this:

A completely derelict stone structure in the middle of a patchwork of buildings downtown

It was a sort of reminder that, if you let it go, nature will take over.

There were also a few sights like this, not quite derelict, but having a weathered beauty all the same.

Now. On to Waterford.

I did not realize that the fine crystal from the famous factory is all handmade. I just assumed that there were machines blowing, turning, cutting, blasting. But I was so wrong.

Every single cut in this exquisite bowl was made by hand.

It starts, of course, with molten glass.
The water being sprayed on it turns almost instantly to steam.

And with a person at the other end of the tube,
blowing and spinning that glass in its mould.

Here is an example of a much larger mould made of wood - this would only be used a handful of times. You can see how the glass burned the wood.

It's a bear's head.

Coming out of the mould, the crystal is smooth.

If needed (i.e., for a vase), a separate stem is added to the blown bowl.

None of these men looked nearly as sweaty as one would expect.

After any sharp edges are smoothed and beveled, the artisans mark the cutting patterns onto the surface with a marker, following a blueprint.

This would not give me much to go on, but it means something to the worker.

The magic begins!

Each cut so precise.

Quality inspection is important; Waterford does not sell "seconds."

Not all of the pieces are traditional vases and bowls. Many of their custom, commissioned pieces, are whimsical. And they do keep an in-house copy of every specialty piece they make.

Looks to me like a gigantic hummingbird feeder. Not sure I'd want to meet those hummingbirds.

Artisans also sometimes propose - and create - works of their own inspiration. Like this memorial to 9/11.

I believe this is the in-house duplicate; I can't recall where the other one is now.

I did see, oh, one or two things in the gift shop which I would love to have brought home as a souvenir, but the prices! (Not surprisingly, really, but still.)

675 Euros, or about $975 Canadian

From there, we proceeded to New Ross and toured the Dunbrody Famine Ship, an authentic reproduction of an 1840’s emigrant vessel. It was not a large ship, but it would have packed more than 100 poor souls into bunks belowdecks. Sometimes called "coffin ships" as many as 50% of the people on board would have died before completing the month-long journey from Ireland to the New World.

Our ticket for the guided tour gave each of us a replica of the ticket of an actual passenger.

I was a 36-year-old mother traveling with her children, escaping the potato famine of the mid-1840's.

And here was our home-to-be

I so wanted to ring that bell!

We were a group of 45 or so. Can you imagine it with more than 100?

It was so dark that most of my pictures really didn't turn out that well. But you can see, on the post of the bunks behind the heads in the picture above, that there is a piece of paper. That piece of paper indicated who slept in that bunk. My entire family was in one bunk. I believe that our personal belongings would have been in that bunk as well.

Our tour was animated by characters who would have been aboard the ship. One woman told of the deaths of her husband and newborn.

Following our tour, I was finally feeling well enough to enjoy a good plate of fish & chips!

The fish was perfectly cooked!

From Waterford, we returned to Dublin. The Book of Kells at Trinity Library had not been a part of our formal tour, but we had time to visit it that afternoon before dinner. The library was walking distance from our hotel.

I didn't take very many pictures of the intricately ornamented books, but they really were works of art. After going through a museum that explains the source of many of the books in the library, we were allowed to stroll through a very limited area upstairs.

Old ironwork is so beautiful.

I must admit, my Kindle does not bring nearly the same feeling as this!

Pigments used in illumination (ornamentation)

On the way back to our hotel from Trinity College, we passed this railway arch that had been converted to a building on campus.

I do love, old industrial architecture.

And with that, our tour was done. Not sure where our next trip will be, but I'm looking forward to it!

The stars are aligned.

Glamour horoscope for June 2013

I'm not a horoscope follower. I don't subscribe to daily or weekly bulletins warning me of risks or lucky numbers. I rarely ever read them and, when I do, I usually scoff at how generic they are.

Early in June, however, I happened to glance at the back pages of Glamour magazine and read the horoscope at left.

As it happens, I had been feeling a little malaise at my current job. I enjoyed the work I was doing, but was ready for more responsibility, different challenges.

I had dragged my heels about making a change because I've considered retiring at the same time as Steve does (only about a year and a half away). Why start something new when it will only last such a short time?

And then, coincidentally, I connected with a former colleague who told me about an opportunity that sounded like it was right up my alley: communications and staff-development support at a local university.

So I shot in my resume and was eventually accepted the job offer. Maybe this little fluff article was in the back of my mind. Who knows?

During salary negotiation, I learned that tuition is covered 100% by the university for staff and their immediate dependents. I happen to have three university-aged kids, and another one who will be graduating high school in 2014. Can you say bonus?

The tuition is a taxable benefit, but it's taxed at the student's rate, not mine, so it's a huge deal for us. And even if I decide to take courses myself (maybe it's time to do that Master's degree I've been putting off), it's a great benefit.

And then, last night while I was tidying my side table, I saw a scrap of paper.

Financial opportunity lies ahead.

As I said, I'm not about to start looking for omens and aligning the stars, but in this case, it is quite a coincidence of timing.