Advent

Some upcycling projects on the go (not much success so far...), but Mathilde is quite happy with her t-shirt and bolero, her creative ideas, of course!

Our family Christmas gift arrived early in the mail and we thought it would be better to put it to use right away instead of waiting... We all need a daily dose of green juice at this time of year! And with the Breville Juice Fountain Elite 800XL, it is so much faster than with our old Champion juicer (like 15 min instead of 45 min to make enough juice for all of us!).

We talked about Hannukah, the Jewish Festival of Light, and we played games of Dreidel (a game that involves a spinning top marked with four Hebrew letters). It is so interesting to learn new traditions alongside my girls!

 Gingerbread cookies, of course!

 And a beautiful Santa Lucia crown  brioche!

First snowshoe outing

We are determined to take advantage of winter this year while we are in the North! Having a national park right in our backyard makes it easy, and not having to conform to a week/weekend schedule makes it even more enjoyable! 

Snowshoeing in nice fresh snow in the biting cold (well, after living for 5 years in the Yukon, I have a hard time saying that -16 is biting cold, but my cheeks tought so yesterday!) is so much fun!

Reaching the shelter with a woodstove. The same shelter I snowshooed to with my dad when I was barely older than the girls...

 I remember playing on the beds just like they do now... and smiling with excitement when my dad produced a piece of chocolate (or chocolated covered cookies in this case) out of his backpack!

 And warm homemade strawberry sauce...

As we walked, I told the girls how my dad got a frostbite on his nose right here when we were snowshooing on the lake at -40 with the wind chill and how we stayed in that same shelter until he got a bit better...

 I am so thankful for cold red cheeks, snow that makes my world much more luminous and for this very patient and loving man in my life...

  And for the 3 o'clock light these days...

The one when I left the sewing class crying

I never really enjoyed sewing. I mean, both my grandmas were professional seamstresses, my mom is great with a sewing machine and well, I cannot follow a simple pants pattern without cursing… But you know, that’s OK. I had made peace with the fact that my sewing machine would be used only to hem pants or sew bean bags… until I saw this great upcycling workshop advertized by an acquaintance of mine… It sounded simple enough, no patterns, no serger needed. Only a big bag of used clothes and creative ideas. I had both.
  

 I had selected my projects weeks in advance, had created a Pinterest board of ideas and well, I had great big plans and a vision. Yeah, you see where I am heading… It started going downhill as soon as I picked up the scissors… or maybe just a bit before, when I started layering the clothes on myself in front of the mirror and could not see anything anymore. Other participants were suggesting ideas but I could not see what they were seeing.  I had no idea where I was heading or even where to start. This is when the teacher said that at some point, you just have to take the plunge and start cutting. And she suggested cutting open the front of my Myco Anna dress from top to bottom. I asked if she was sure. She nodded and said yes. And I proceeded. Now, she said, put the blue t-shirt underneath and play with the cut up dress in front of the mirror. But I still could not see what to do. And then, there were other participants that also needed help so she left me alone to figure out what to do. So I stood there and tears welled up in my eyes. I ran to the bathroom. As I sat there, sobbing like a heart-broken teenager, I tried to figure out what was going on. I realized that I felt inadequate.

I finally came out of the bathroom, all red-eyed and puffy-faced, feeling ackward among the participants. I asked for help (again) and started pulling apart the Myco Anna dress, the way my girls dismember their Polly Pockets.

 

As focused as I was on the project (I have lots of flaws, but I sure am persistent), the rest of the day was a daze of other people chatting, laughing (which made my misery even worse… we all know misery loves company), drinking tea, eating dark chocolate and holding back the tears of frustration.

When the day was finally over, I climbed back in the safe space of my frozen car. As night was falling and I was heading home on the highway, tears trickled down my face as I cried like a toddler after a hard day at daycare. 

I was hoping to leave the workshop empowered. I thought it would get my creative juices flowing once again. I had thought about all the great projects I could tackle by myself after the class, but I only felt dumb. I was no seamstress. And then, as I embraced all those ugly feelings, I felt something shift inside. A softening. 

Then, as I took the highway exit, I felt a twinge in my lower abdomen and remembered that it was almost my moon time. And maybe I had drunk too much wine last night and that made me hypersensitive today. Maybe it was not just about the freaking dress that I could not make. 

There is something stangely comforting about blaming your hormones for emotions that feel wildly out of proportion.

As I pulled into our driveway, with a thick layer of dry tears on my face, I took a deep breath and smiled. Sure enough, as I walked in, I was greeted by excited little girls who wanted to see *all* my creations. And, I was able not to fall apart when they said: Just that, mama! That’s all you did in your class?? 

Because, hey, hormones got my back!!

92

She turned 92 last week. 

As I talked with her, I realized even more how bittersweet it is to age. She never intended to live that long. She wanted to go fast and much earlier. She is not hoping for many more years. Apart from arthritis, she is quite healthy and she definitely has all her head. She still beats my mom at Scrabble weekly! But she is waiting. Filling time. Couting the years that keep on coming...

For a 35 year old, it feels terribly sad. But I know that for her, it's not.

My dad shared images and stories from his last trip. He described the streets of Lisbon and the houses on the coasts of Porto and we could almost see them. She listened, soaking in the goodness of having us all there with her at the table. The people she loves. Her only family left.

Inside

It's cold and damp and gray lately. The perfect weather to stay inside. We looked at snowflakes under the magnifying glass, made some snow ice cream (it's really good! About 6 cups of fresh snow, 1/4 a cup of heavy cream, 4 tbsp of maple syrup and some vanilla extract, mash with potato masher and you've got some pretty good vanilla soft serve!), did some sewing for the dolls, baked a very tasty galette of winter greens, played many rounds of Skip-Bo and Five Crowns, played some music and stayed outside just long enough to enjoy a warm apple cider afterwards.

40

One of my dear friends turned 40 this weekend. For her 30th birthday, we were together in her lovely Yukon cabin without running water and electricity. We had many wonderful moments there, rubbing our pregnant bellies by the woodstove, celebrating the full moons with friends in her sauna by the lake, after amazing potlucks... All those memories came up as I started looking at old photos of that time and I decided to create a photo album of our last ten years together as a gift (some black and white photos from that album at the bottom of the post).

For her 40th birthday, there was delicious food, great friends, some singing and music. It was simple and touching, raw and real, like her. As I get older, I realize even more how long time friends are precious gifts...

Our first hike together in Kluane National Park

 Outside their little cabin in the Yukon (photo above: preparing her 30th birthday brunch in that same cabin)

Steph holding Mara

Camping in Dyea, Alaska

A few days after Adélie's birth

 Our girls playing together (clockwise: Aïsha, Mara, Adélie and Gabrielle, the daughter of some of our dear Yukon friend Leslie)

  Easter in Atlin, BC

Solstice celebration at our place in the Yukon, a few days before Steph, JF and Adélie left in their Westfalia to move back to Québec (2 years before us)

 Steph and Maël at our little homestead in Quebec, helping us prepare a permaculture garden bed.