Happy anniversary!

Whoa, been a while, eh?

We took possession on September 7th of last year so we have quickly reached our one-year mark.

Now we've been back to the cottage a few times since the August 8th post, but we didn't go this past weekend because I had free tickets to a football game.  Plus, we'd been there most of the previous week so we figured taking a break wouldn't be the worst thing.  But it was.  It was the worst thing.  And in mid-January, when I'm dying to go start going again, I'm going to curse my football addiction for causing me to waste a weekend six months earlier.

Rob and Deb visited for the second time on the first Saturday of our week off (August 24th), spending the night this time. We were warned when we bought the place that people would come by expecting to be catered to, but...that hasn't been the case with this family.  Visitors are seeing to their own needs.  And many of our needs.  Really, they could see to the needs of several families on Crow Lake Road.

Parts of the above turned into this:

Not shown above is a plate of roasted, salted almond slices that Debbie made that nearly caused me to reach a state of nirvana.  Sounds so simple but sweet maple syrup were they ever good!  We had a fire outside later, during which Debbie got to roast marshmallows, something she apparently has not done in about 60 years (eh eh eh!). 

On the Monday following, Christine and I attended the pot luck that's held at the school house on the last Monday of every month.

Now everyone who knows me knows how there's nothing I love more than being in a room full of strangers, in an unfamiliar location, and unaware of proper procedure.  Suffice to say that I was somewhat out of my element.  "Hiding under the bed" is closer to my element.

However, we made "my" Caribbean Rice recipe, walked over, met a lot of great people (and remembered the names of about 14% of them), and were pleased to have gone through with it afterwards.  I'll go into greater detail about that when I'm able to take pictures from inside the building but here it is, behind the town sign.

My folks came by the following Friday so that my dad and Christine could go to a NASCAR truck race in Mosport on the Sunday.  That left mum and I with a quiet afternoon together during which she made this delightful soup and I...huh...drank Seagram's cider.  I could have sworn I did SOMETHING useful that day but damned if it'll come to mind now.  I'll probably remember as soon as I click "publish" for this post.  That happens alarmingly often.

One improvement project got taken care of, courtesy of my dad, and Christine began visualising another.  I'll get into both of those in the next post (or the one after.  Eventually).

New Tradition

Even though Kathy ruined the weather somehow, we still all had a nice time on Sunday and early Monday.

While we were burning leaves (still?!), Oscar got a little run in.  Burn those winter calories, baby!  Everyone loves a lean sausage!

A performance which earned him a great honour.

"I dub thee...Sir Oscar Fartsalot!"

And hey, I saw a turtle!

Amidst the merriment, Christine told me about something of a tradition that she started.

Check out the glass vase below.  And pronounce it so it rhymes with "face", not so it rhymes with "was".  The latter sounds pretentious and awful.  I don't care if there's actually a difference between the two identified by pronunciation.  Whatever the "was" version is, it has no place in CFB Crow Lake.

Anyway, the vase (rhymes with "face"):

See the cork at the bottom?  It is from the bottle of wine below.  That bottle was bought in Nova Scotia by Christine during her recent visit there and delivered by Kathy on Sunday, along with a sun-obliterating cloud formation the size of Brazil. (I do kid...).

Isn't that lovely?

Christine's plan is to collect all the wine bottle corks into that glass "vase-rhymes-with-face" until it fills up, thereby creating a lovely display of...huh...

Well, this was my concern, actually. What if this thing is filled up in the space of, like, a month?  I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one. It might be attractive, but also slightly disturbing.

Christine reasoned it out.  Not every wine bottle has cork in it anymore.  Some have metal caps.

I suppose...I'm not sure that actually addresses my point though...It might even support it.

I'll ponder that more deeply as I toss the next cork in.

April 27th: Official 2013 Season Launch!

I swear by the ghost of Don Cherry (wait, is he...?) I didn't realise there was so much maple in New Scotland.  Since Christine returned from her trip to Halifax, I've been eating maple taffy, white chocolate with maple crunchies, maple blueberry jam...I think that if (when) I cut myself shaving I'll bleed maple syrup.

In an attempt to determine whether one can actually overdose on this tasty tree tinkle, we toasted our first evening of the 2013 season with maple-flavoured sparkling wine.

Damn yummy.  We were concerned about whether it would keep well, so we killed off the bottle that evening. It made for a convenient excuse, anyway.

Because we weren't being stereotypically Canadian enough, Christine made poutine that evening.

Don't anyone else ever bother making poutine for me.  I'm terribly spoiled now.  Your poutine will be like bitter ashes in my mouth and I'll just end up throwing it in your face in disgust.

You could argue that this is rude, but I would actually be justified.  Christine's is just that good.  I'd never had poutine before Christine made it for me (with mushroom gravy, for those who may be wondering) and I will have no other.  If Christine ever leaves for another planet, like she wants, and I'm stuck here, for all intents and purposes I will live on a poutine-free world.

I had built up a wicked hunger too, earlier in the day.  We were getting low on cut wood for the stove in the living room, so I decided to attack one of the logs at the end of our yard.  They are the result of two tall, dead trees being cut down by the previous owners as a condition of sale.

Now as a kid, when I did those tests in school to determine what occupation would suit me best, I don't recall "lumberjack" coming up often as an option.  I have a clearer understanding of why now.

I must have taken a half hour to cut one damn log.  Wasn't even a big one!  Just a stubborn sumbitch.  First my axe got stuck in it, then I got the wood splitter stuck while trying to get the axe out!  What the hell do you do??

You go into beast mode, that's what.  Grrr!

I can't go into the chilling details of my combat against nature, save to say that I won (evidence at right) and I'm convinced that Mother Nature continues to hate me despite all my sucking up to her.

That ugliness aside, we can update the dining room upgrade project with a couple of gifts.  Nanny made the red and white afghan on the back of the now-covered couch.  The couch itself may not last much longer, but the afghan will.

Also, the frame on the piece of furniture at left was given to Christine by her mum during the Halifax trip.  We have yet to fill it, but sooner or later, something will strike us (and by "us" I mean Christine).