Labour Day

Labour day is this weekend, and we are so lucky to be meeting my family at our Ontario cottage. It has been a crazy summer, and because my brother spent June-August teaching in New Zealand, the whole family hasn't spent much time together since May. 

As I've said before, the cottage is an almost sacred place for us. When we were young, it was the time we looked forward to all year because of the things we got to do. Ever since my brother, the oldest, left for college, we've looked forward to going to the cottage because we are all there in the same place at the same time. 

It sounds sappy when I read what I've written, but I know in my heart that it is the way I truly feel. Being away from my family, even for only a few weeks now, always reminds me of how lucky I am to have a fabulous support system. They aren't perfect (whose family is?) and we don't always agree on things, but they the most dependable, upright, caring people I know.

I think we all agree that we are happiest when we are up at the cottage. It wasn't always that way - in fact I remember phases where the small space drove us to huge sibling fights and would end in my parents threatening to go home early - but thankfully that obviously isn't the case anymore. 

Love this photo of my dad, happy as a clam.

So I guess what I'm saying is…when you don't here from me this weekend, it is because I'm "unplugging," reading a good book, and probably singing some terrible '90's tunes with my siblings. Oh, who am I kidding? I will definitely be doing that!

Downsizing and Upgrading

When we lived in Oberlin, B and I had a huge apartment. An entire floor of a huge building, a long and skinny unit, with closets and cupboards and cubby spaces galore. We also had a huge amount of stuff. We lived in that place for two years, and in that time, we acquired A LOT OF THINGS. Like the old saying goes, like goldfish, we expanded to the available space.

In packing to move, I knew we were going to be moving to a smaller place, and now that I'm here, I LOVE IT. But at the time, back at my parents' place, the thought of going through all of my belongings and having to choose what was most important, what was worth keeping...that was hard, especially since we went through that whole process before we moved out of the old place (I took two car loads of things to the nearby Goodwill) and so part of me felt like, "Okay, not fair. I already did this!"

Part of the problem was that I was facing an epidemic at home, too. My parents are not hoarders by any means. But they are antique collectors, and so my childhood home has always been full of cool old things. As I've mentioned before, my dad is a tinker, a builder, an encourager-of-power-tool-use, and we have always had the spirit of "upcycling" instilled in us - way before upcycling was a thing. Find something old, take it home, and ideally actually follow through on the repurposing project you had in mind when you acquired the thing, but...as things often go, as many projects lay dormant in the same state they were when they came to the house. Anyway. When we went off to college (and every year that we come home with more things), my parents have always said that they don't mind storing stuff for us, antique or not. As a result, I have box after box of memorabilia, every binder and textbook from every course I took in college (although to be fair, those will be useful when I get a teaching job!), instruments, classroom decorations (?!), family items I've inherited...oh, and CLOTHES. SO. MUCH. CLOTHING. You would think that after I moved out my room in my parents' house would be empty, right? Well you would be wrong.

Fortunately I've changed my ways in terms of organization: I've gone from high school - every inch of floor covered in clothes, books, bedding; never able to find anything; not home often so basically living out of my car - to what B jokes about being obsessive about keeping the house picked up. He's always been somewhere in between, and we definitely experienced some atrocious periods living together in our last place, like when I was student teaching and he was finishing up exams and we couldn't use our oven because it was full of dirty dishes? Dark times, not going there again.

SO. In a smaller (but still quite large, especially for two people) apartment, how are we faring? I love it. I actually love having to economize and think about whether I really want or can afford to have something - not only for monetary reasons, also for space reasons. People here get rid of furniture and things they don't want by putting it on the curb - the free section on craigslist is barely used because people know that their things will be picked up by other people, far before the garbage truck comes. When we first got here, I was super tempted to stop and look at every table, bookshelf, etc. that we came across, because I felt sure that I needed a proper desk in order to work from home. Now I realize that the kitchen table works fine (great, actually), and that we don't need nor do we have the space for anything else. Things are going great. It's easier to keep this place clean (don't mind B's "cave" in the pictures below, that's another thing entirely) because it is smaller, but in all honesty I think it is the perfect size. Not too big, but it's no studio apartment for sure.


And now, a very cursory overview of the house...
First of all, a note about the lighting: Notice in all of these pictures that there are no lights on in the house! Lighting au natural, ladies and gentlemen. We have beautiful windows, a skylight above the kitchen, and two fire escapes that provide a nice place to sit in the evening and listen to the neighborhood. We're also subletting from some friends, which is great since it meant that we didn't need to haul or acquire furniture for the most part.

This is what you see when you first walk in the door, living room, our bikes, kitchen table. (And the big, beautiful windows!) 

Walking further into the room, you can see the fireplace (gas - not sure if it works?) and our awesome hack coffee table (rubbermaid container, conveniently holding all of my yoga gear, B's soccer equipment, bike trainer). Notice the beautiful wood flooring! 

View of the door and entryway...

Kitchen! I LOVE the counter with the stools. So nice to sit there and eat breakfast, and the cats like to sit on the stools and watch while I prepare meals. Too cute.

Our galley kitchen, complete with (busted?) dishwasher, lots of cupboards, tiny pantry.

Bedroom (and cat). 

Side of bedroom. To the left of the frame is a closet, in front is a full bath, book shelf that we're using to store B's summer clothes.

Stairs to go down to the lower level...Almost like a spiral staircase in that the stairs in the turn are triangular - thus, I almost tumble down the stairs every single day. Still not used to it!

B's "cave," our friend's boxes that we're storing for him until he gets in town, washer and dryer in that closet (WOO!), ikea lofted bed (and cat), and all of the stuff for the kitties. 

The weather is lovely we're off to take a walk and do some exploring! 

la vie de jeune

It's official: I've only been here a few days and I already love the city. Any reservations I had back in April when we were considering moving here (heck, any reservations I had last week about moving here) are removed from my mind whenever we take our daily walks.

It's so much fun being here. The city is extremely bike friendly, with separate bike lanes on most major streets, and most car operators respectful of bikers.


We rode the metro out to marche jean-talon yesterday and had a great afternoon. This is definitely the place to go if you want high-quality produce on the cheap. We found a yummy Indian fast food place (as well as several other small, to-go style restaurants) inside the marketplace and ordered a bagful of samosas to share. Mmmmm, samosas. In the end, we managed to stock our kitchen and got so much food it was nearly impossible to make it home. All for about $25!

Potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, onions, green peppers, eggplant, asparagus, carrots, GIANT basil plant, garlic, 8lbs of apples...

Of course, that didn't give us any dried goods, so we went to the Metro (grocery store, not the subway...) and stocked up on pasta, rice, couscous, and some baking supplies. For as inexpensive as it is to shop at les marches, it is that much more expensive to purchase items from the supermarche.
I'll do a separate post on our progress on frugal eating in a few weeks, after I understand what I'm doing myself!

For now we've definitely got enough food for the next 10 days or so, with dry goods to last for a loooooong time.

And now I must go plant my basil!

je voyage a la montreal!

Tomorrow I leave for our new home in Montreal!

B arrived last week and has been settling in, so the good news is that it won't be like walking into a totally untouched apartment. I'm really looking forward to experiencing summer in the city. I've only ever spent time in cities in the middle of winter, and since Montreal has a reputation for pretty - and pretty harsh - winters, I'm excited that I'll get the chance to frolic outside in summer and fall (my favourite season!) before we head indoors for the cold season.


All of my emotions are mixed up right now:

Nervous (about moving to a city where I am not a fluent speaker).

Excited (to start a new chapter).

Sad (to be leaving my family).

Happy (to be seeing B).

Anxious (to drive 11 hours with the cats in the car).

Hopeful (that everything will be a challenge, but a welcome one)!


And now I'm off! See you in Canada!

Nine Years of "That One Time at Band Camp"

I have been to band camp nine, count 'em, NINE times. Four of those were my own camps as a student. As a student I looked forward to that week of overnight band camp the entire summer. Our whole band did. That's just a) marching band culture and b) the atmosphere that our director developed.

I'm sure everyone reading this has either attended band camp themselves or has seen American Pie: Band Camp, so everyone reading this either knows exactly what I'm talking about or actually has no clue whatsoever. Spoiler alert: American Pie is not actually anything close to what real band camp is like - at least not any camp I've attended, taught at, or heard about.

Look out, flashback to 2003 here, guys:

"Badass" at band camp? UGH HIGH SCHOOL WHAT?

I WAS THE band nerd, in every musical ensemble that existed at our high school, taking on leadership roles in each one, and exhibiting never-ending enthusiasm for all things band, especially marching band. NB: Except might I add that I was also a lettering track and cross country runner and also obviously very cool. Obviously?
Also our marching band is a "competition band," which for those of you not part of this culture, means we not only forego playing "popular music" at the risk of being misunderstood by football goons and their parents, but also dedicate every weekend between August and November to a Friday Football game/Saturday Competition double-duty routine.

Anyway, it's funny because for as much as I loved band, and although I already knew that I would be majoring in music, I made it very clear to myself that my fourth camp was my last (going so far as to call the photo album from the last year of high school "Last band camp EVERRRRRRRRRRRR"), I think in part so that I wouldn't be disappointed if I was never asked to come back as staff, as the chosen few music majors are.

Obviously things have changed. Fast forward to college: Oberlin does not have a "real" marching band (D III school) and I had no interest in participating, but now I'm back on the bandwagon (HA) and have been teaching marching band for five years. Although I was in denial after arriving at my conservatory, where people often scoff at marching band, I can no longer lie about this: It was fun as a student, and it is fun as a teacher. I like teaching marching band. Plus I can honestly say that I watch kids grow up from teeny tiny baby freshmen with no friends to confident, competent individuals in the ninth grade with so many friends by the end of the summer. Plus, as a teacher, I always see it as a joy to have opportunities to teach, even if I'm not working on Beethoven - Hey, who's to say there's no merit in marching band? I've gotten over that personal down-talking because I do know that this is important in the lives of these kids, as it was to me. It's something stable, fun, communal, difficult (you try putting your mouth on a metal mouthpiece when it is 40 degrees outside and sleeting, then trudge try to stand perfectly straight and move in time around on a field while producing a good tone) and incredibly rewarding.





Since we'll be moving to Canada, I have no idea what our summers will be like in the coming years - but I really hope that I'll be able to stick with teaching band during the summer. This year it's just two weeks of teaching for me (in the past it's been as much as five or six weeks) and I am so glad I took the time to do it. Great kids, great program, great fun.

Stranger on the Water

Hello! I'm back from my week of traveling and unplugging. I'm the fourth generation to vacation on the same lake in Ontario, a little place in cottage country. I've never missed a summer visit, and I've often travelled up there in the fall to do some kayaking and photography, as well as in the winter for weekend snowmobiling trips.

The cottage, as you can imagine, is a really special place for the whole family. Quarters are cramped: There is a small kitchen and dining area, living room, and, recently added, a bathroom with shower. The cottage is fairly small, everyone sleeps in bunk beds in rooms with open ceilings.

A few years ago, I was usually the last person to bed at night, but now, it's my sister. At night, when I settle into my lower bunk, I can see the glow of the lamp she's using while she reads a James Patterson novel (lake favourites for their fast, easy reading), and I hear the creak of the old easy chair in the corner as she shifts her weight. More persistent  than the creaking chair, however, are the sounds of my brother and my father's snores. My father's Statler Brothers tape plays on a cassette player in the next room over, the singers' voices slightly warped from time and excessive use. A dog (or two, or three) cozies up in the crescent shape formed by my body. My mother, having gone to bed an hour or more before, follows her maternal instinct out of her bedroom and into the living room, where she tells my sister that it is late and isn't she tired? I drift off to sleep knowing my sister has gone off to the bathroom to complete her night time rituals and will soon come back and climb into the bunk above mine. All I hear now is the sound of the forest outside my window and the occasional hum of the water heater turning on in the rafters.

Halfway through the night I will wake, hot from too many blankets and warm bodies next to my own in a tiny bed. I will think about shooing away the dogs, but know they are so happy to be there, so I will shed the blankets. In the early hours of the morning, I will wake again, this time chilled and doubtless halfway through a dream; the dogs will be lying on the pile of blankets on the floor. I will return to my dream, a dream about things that scare me or about things that do not. Being as relaxed as I am while I am here does odd things to my dreams, allowing my mind to take kernels of ideas and run with them in a way that it cannot when I am at home, stressed and anxious even as I sleep.

In the morning, I awake with the fog of a dream still in the front of my consciousness. I am the first of the children to rise. I grumble to the bathroom, all but ignoring anyone who I may pass in the kitchen on the way. I make my breakfast and coffee, and as with all meals up here, unless it is raining, I take my meal outside to the dock and enjoy it there. My parents are likely already finished with their food and are reading their books, or searching for signs of the day's forecast in the sky surrounding the lake. The only radio station available, MooseFM, might be broadcasting a song that was popular ten years prior through the kitchen window.

By late morning, my siblings and any guests have risen to greet the day and the family is laying out plans for the day. It will likely include one or more of the following lake-vacation activities: "Watersports," an all encompassing term meant to include skiing, tubing, "winging," etc.
A trip to the other, larger lakes in the spring-fed system.
Paddle boat, canoeing, kayaking.
Rope swinging, rock jumping, frog catching.
And a various sundry of other beautiful outdoor activities.

If it rains, books are read, epic games of monopoly and risk are played, and projects are completed in the woodshop - and the interesting thing is that I often remember the things that happened at night (games galore) and on rainy days better than the raucous good time that we had out on the lake.

A tangent: When I was younger, I was obsessed with building things, creating things - it comes from being the daughter of two engineers. In addition, I, like many other girls in my generation, grew up with American Girl Dolls. More important to me than the dolls, however, was the American Girl Magazine. It was like the Boys' Life for girls - except that it was unapologetically aimed toward building strong, creative, clever, independent young women. In fact the whole line of publications that American Girl produced during the late 90's - early aught's drastically shaped me, as a girl and as a person that went through person-type life phases.
I read (and possibly still own, somewhere on the bookshelves at my parents' home):

As well as several books which appear to be out of print but I absolutely loved, including one about starting your own business broken down by industry (everything from lemonade stand to lawn care business to babysitting to greeting card company to zine author). Should I ever give birth to daughters, you can bet that these books will be gracing their own shelves.

Okay so long story short, I was a pretty industrious kid, and to this day, I've held on to the sentiment of "Well why would I buy something or pay someone to do something if I can make or do it myself?" I loved going with my dad to the hardware store, and he encouraged this behavior by purchasing tools and odd materials throughout my childhood...and a scroll saw for me in the sixth grade - I had asked for one. There was no better place for me to bond with my dad over tools than at the cottage. With his help I made countless 90's fads from scratch: Hobby horse (2x4's, yarn, paint, screws), my own set of "flip sticks" which, okay, did not look like the real thing but I am 100% serious that I played with my version even after a relative bought me the store kind for my birthday (pvc pipe, electrical tape),

a rubber stamp depicting a heart and a crescent moon which I used to decorate my own stationary THANK YOU VERY MUCH (rubber sheeting, wood, wood glue, ink), hula hoop (also pvc and electrical tape), stencils for decorating tshirts and posters with spray paint...you get the idea. All off this happened on vacation at the cottage.

This post turned into a lot of different things, so I'll stop there. Needless to say, you can probably tell that the place means a lot to me. I'm so fortunate to have had something like this available for my entire life, and I sure hope my own future kids are cottage kids like me.