Joey's brilliant money-making scheme

Miss Cleo Exposed

In undergrad, we used to mock Miss Cleo, "psychic and shaman", mercilessly whenever her commercial aired.

Seems we weren't the only ones.

Another Example of Polyester Gone Bad

You know, when I hear the word "plush" the next word I automatically want to say is "microbe".

Who doesn't, really?

My good friend Denise turned me on to these plush microbes. Denise questioned why such things exist in the world. Why indeed, Denise. I share your flummoxation, tinged with disgust. Isn't the world scary enough without Little Billy playing with... THE EBOLA VIRUS???!?!??!

I agree with Denise that this plush has some 'splaining to do. Mastermind, the vendor of these delightful toys, (and presumably the plush's spokesperson) had this to say on behalf of the inappropriate, polyester-blend stuffies:

An epidemic is sweeping through playrooms everywhere. The symptoms: soft, cuddly hugs accompanied by huge laughs and learning! That's because Giant Microbes are popping up all over. Giant Microbes are plush, macro-sized versions of some micro-sized "bugs" that we're all familiar with - like the Common Cold, Sore Throat and Ear Ache - and some we're not - like, Ebola. Cuddly learning fun!

They had me until "cuddly learning fun".

Admittedly, some of the plushies seem like they would provide hours (or at least seconds) of edutainment, like your friend and mine, "Red Blood Cell".

Or, somewhat more disgustingly, “Bad Breath” and “Mange”.

Some of the plushies are actually pleasant, like “Sea Sparkle” (AKA "Noctiluca" which causes bioluminescence in the ocean).

Unfortunately, some are just wildly inappropriate for anything connected to a plush, or a child, or a child with a plush, or anything remotely associated with good taste in general.

Which ones? Oh, I don't know... how about a plush “HIV” (!)
or a cuddly "Flesh Eating Bacteria" plush, complete with knife and fork motif (presumably 'cuz it's a-coming to EAT YOUR LEG OFF, BILLY!!!)

People, do we seriously want to have conversations with the under-4 set about what happens when someone gets Ebola?

Billy: "What do you mean by 'external hemorrhage from orifices', Mommy?"

Mommy: "It means bleeding from your bum-hole and eyes, Billy"

Billy: Crack! (This is the sound Billy's fragile psyche makes when it shatters, dooming him to become a(nother) chronically maladjusted adult).

The (heretofore) innocent world of plush has been violated. It may never recover.

$3500 Socks

Meet my new favourite socks (I made them!):

The pattern is "Retro Rib Socks" by Evelyn A. Clark and can be found in Favourite Socks: 25 Timeless Designs from Interweave.

The yarn is Celestial Merino Dream (100% wool) by Tradewind Knitwear Designs. It is hand-dyed in Nova Scotia by Lucy Neatby. Colour is "Seashell". You may remember this yarn from such blogs as my trip to The Loop in Halifax this past August.

There's something about a hand-knit sock that's just soooooo much more comfortable than a store-bought sock. You may think I have yarn goggles on because I made these guys, but really, there's a surprising amount of difference in terms of comfort.

Those of you who know me know I love to knit. People sometimes ask me why I don't knit for a living. Although this *seems* like a good idea (see last post re: pumpkin template of myself) in reality the Free Market (and repetitive stress disorder) make a knitting career prohibitive.

Let's do some math! I know, you were informed this was a math-free blog. I hear your pain, but stay with me here: Each sock takes about 10 hours to complete. So, at 20 hours for the labour (at my current articling rate) plus the costs of this yarn ($60) make these socks worth $3560. Dude! Even if I only charged $10/hour, the socks would still be $260.

I'm guessing most people would find this prohibitively expensive for sockwear... even for lovely artisan-quality sockwear.

Of course, knitting's not about the money (which is probably what makes it fun). I'm just sayin', I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon.

Gourd Fun (The Best Kind of Fun)

In the grand tradition of Kingston, Emma and I did our annual Artisan Pumpkin Carve.

Things started out a bit rough. I was slightly over-ambitious and tried to use my own template... of myself.

I also made this one of Louis le Chat:

Now, I'm no lightweight. I once carved the Mona Lisa on a pumpkin, and let's not forget my brilliant Johnny Cash Circa 2003 Pumpkin Materpeice. Both of those turned out splendidly, thankyouverymuch. However, Louis and I proved just too difficult to carve.

Life lesson: some things that seem like a good idea at the time... actually aren't.

I shall revisit this issue next year.

Anyhoo, after some rather frustrating (and highly dangerous) moments with the X-acto knife and the above patterns, I settled on this memorial pumpkin tribute to the late great Crocodile Hunter:

Emma did a lovely Harry Potter:

We were rather proud of ourselves.

Even though Faye's kitchen took a beating in the process and Emma startled Joey when she turned into a knife-wielding maniac

a good, and gourd-filled time was had by all.

My Chances of Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse

31%

Hmm. Considering this is an obvious and pressing issue in Canadian society, I think I'm in trouble.

Time to buy that machete.

Tab 14: Home Again

"Why is there a giant mastodon on that ridge?"

-Marco, passing a giant mastodon, on "Mastodon Ridge", outside of Truro

Not a whole lot to report in the way of interesting travels today. Of course, a lack of interesting news shall not keep me from the blog.

After an excellent breakfast at the B&B (where today, they told us they were in town yesterday for eye appointments instead of because the baby ate peanut butter...) we headed off to the Truro farmer's market.

The market was surprisingly good. Lots of fresh vegetables (I bought a large bag of excellent green peas), beautiful flowers,

and a ton of crafts. We bought some interesting handmade soap as well, which contains coffee and sand to help remove oil and odours from the hand... I presume it makes your hand smell oily and like coffee instead of whatever it smelled like before.

After spending about 8 seconds perusing the entire downtown shopping area of Truro, we got in the car and drove to the airport.

Car was returned, got our boarding passes, luggage was checked. We had some serious reservations about checking Little Blue Laundry Bag, considering he's not luggage but merely outerwear for sleeping bags. He's not designed for the perils of air travel as there is but a thin nylon barrier between its contents and the seedy underworld of checked baggage. We only put things in Little Blue that we didn't care about, in preparation for the worst.

Imagine our relief at the Toronto airport when this happened at baggage claim...

A good end to a great vacation.

Because we are uber-machines, we have already unpacked, washed everything, and re-packed in preparation for our next trip... to Ottawa tomorrow. See you for regularly scheduled blogging in the near future.

Tab 13: Charlottetown, Pictou (encore), Truro

"[Exasperated sigh]"

-from Marco, when Adrienne signs the Truro Visitor Centre book as "Cordelia DaVere"

Not an exciting day to report (but I shall report, anyway!) Left Charlottetown, drove to Wood Island, got on the ferry to Nova Scotia (different ferry, not the same one we rode over on…different in its lack of a Cow ice cream store and its plethora of transport trucks).

We decided to go back to Pictou because Marco wanted to buy a chef knife at Grohmann Knives.

I stopped in briefly at the Water Street Studio Crafts, right next door.

The last time we were in Pictou, it was closed. Guess what I found?

YARN! A totally hidden yarn store on the Interprovincial Yarn Crawl of 2007. The brand is called “Cobweb Woolies” and it’s made by this lady in Scotsburn, Nova Scotia from her flock of sheep and angora goats. The yarn is all handspun, pink is 100% wool, the purple is alpaca. I have it earmarked for a Christmas chapeau…

On the way to Truro, Marco and I indulged and went somewhere we only go about once a year…

I feel dirty.

We finally got to our B&B around 2:45 pm. Although check-in time was 2:00 pm, we were greeted by little note on the door: “At a funeral, back by 3:15”. A bit peeved because we were not telephoned about this, but trying to be understanding, we decided to go for a walk to pass the time. Sadly, Truro is a bit of an armpit and there’s not much to walk to. To make matters worse, we got caught in a torrential downpour. We rushed into the visitors’ centre…where we found there was REALLY nothing to do here except view something called the “Tidal Bore”. As we missed it today, we are going to view it tomorrow before the airport. I believe it involves tides… we’re hoping it doesn’t live up to its name in other ways…

We made it back to the B&B, drenched, where we were told they were late because the owners had to go to a medical appointment… umm. People: if you’re going to make up stories, at least do it right. The key to a good falsehood is consistency. Don’t change the story partway through. Doing so destroys your credibility.

The place seems fine, however; clean and cheerful. The torrential rain continued all afternoon so we passed the time playing computer on the intermittent wireless connection, packing the suitcases, and watching TV.

We’ve run into a little problem regarding the bags. We could probably fit everything back into the two suitcases but it would involve a maneuver known as “The Beached Whale”. This suitcase closing technique is not pleasant for the “whale” or “The Closer”. Consequentially, we’ve decided to check the laundry bag. It should be OK – it’s a heavy-duty sleeping bag sack and we are relatively sure we can close it well enough so that our dirty underthings won’t spread out over the baggage claim conveyer belt. Keep your fingers crossed.

Dinner, at least, was fabulous. We ate at the John Stanfield Inn.

You may remember the name “Stanfield” from such garments as: your underwear. Yes, the Stanfield underwear line originated right here in little Truro. The Inn itself is a Queen Anne-style house with amazing woodwork that has been completely restored. The food and service were excellent; this was a great final dinner in Nova Scotia.

Tomorrow, it’s farewell to Nova Scotia and back to Toronto. See you in Ontario for the final Tab of Fun.

Tab 12: Brackley Beach

"You know, it’s kind of nice when the day’s not scheduled."
-Adrienne, with surprise

Today was a pretty relaxed day. Unusual, but enjoyable. Weird.

We had breakfast again at the Great George. I should note there is no dining room for breakfast so the good folks here have resorted to the same solution I did in my tiny bachelor apartment in Ottawa.

After breaky, Marco and I drove up to Brackley Beach on the north shore of PEI. Brackely is actually part of PEI National Park. Our hotel has a season’s pass to the park so we were able to avoid the $17 admission fee, making the day’s activities uber-cheap.

The beach was amazing. Red sand, like the roads, Anne of Green Gables dunes, a lighthouse, and hardly anyone there at all… we basically had the whole beach to ourselves.

We set up a little camp out of the way of the wind with our two umbrellas we bought at Canadian Tire yesterday.

They only blew away once.

We spent a really nice morning. I passed the time by reading Anne of Green Gables. I was oh-so-PEI.

At about 1:00 it started to get really cloudy and colder. Marco and I left in search of lunch… but were stopped by a yarn interlude!

First stop was North Shore Island Traditions Past & Present Rug Shop in North Rustico… a deceiving name as it is actually doesn’t seem to have much to do with rugs. Instead, it is a Fleece Artist mecca!

The lady who runs the shop, out of the back of her house, has tons and tons of Fleece Artist and Hand Maiden yarns. I bought a lovely thrum sock yarn kit (the sock will be bluey, the thrums are green)

I was trying to follow my own rule and buy local but the lady at Island Traditions explained that yarn from PEI is generally coarse and scratchy and not used for garments.

She was right. At the next stop, Rustico Bay Wool Sweater Company, all the PEI yarn was not something you’d want to knit a sweater out of… or anything really.

The yarn trail and lack of food had made Marco grumbly so we headed off in search of lunch… at a place not recommended by Frommer’s. Yes, we were *off* the schedule here, people. We took a massive risk. However, it paid off. Lunch at the Blue Mussel Café was delicious, and we made it just in time to avoid a massive downpour.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for dinner. I actually sent it back to the kitchen. Some of you may not believe this but I have never done that before. I ordered the stuffed chicken and it was burnt one cm thick on the bottom and the top was completely dried out. We were the only people in the restaurant… it does not inspire confidence if you’re only cooking for two and you still can’t get it right. A bummer, but also a free meal for me so there is no lawsuit pending at this time.

Tomorrow, back to Nova Scotia. See you in the booming metropolis of Truro.

Tab 11: Anne's Land

“Call me Cordelia.”
-Adrienne to Marco, who didn’t

If you don’t like Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery, just keep moving. This blog entry is not for you. If you think you and your bosom buddy might get a thrill from reading the following perfectly tragical blog, or that reading it might give you some scope for the imagination, then read on kindred spirit, read on!

Today was Anne of Green Gables day! Cavendish is the home of all the Anne sights and the area that was the inspiration for the fictional Avonlea. Unfortunately, the white way of delight, the violet vale, and birch path are not clearly marked in the real world. We got lost on the way. However, after some minor car-fighting (where I did not break a slate over Marco’s head), we ended up at Green Gables.

Green Gables (now operated by Parks Canada) was the inspiration for the setting of Anne of Green Gables. In real life, this farmhouse was the home of David Jr. and Margaret Macneill, brother and sister, who were cousins of Montgomery’s grandfather.

The house has been furnished according to descriptions in the book, including Anne’s bedroom. Note Anne’s carpet bag on the chair and the dress with puffed sleeves hanging on the closet door!

We walked in the Haunted Woods,

saw where Montgomery lived with her Macneill grandparents (after her mother died when she was 21 months old and her father moved to Saskatchewan)... sadly, only the foundation remains...


and then walked along Lover’s Lane.

After all that walking, we were tired and so had a break to have some raspberry cordial. I just love bright-red drinks, don’t you?

I have to say, I was surprised that the Green Gables mecca wasn’t crowded at all. I’d been warned about the bus-loads of Japanese tourists but the whole place was relatively uncrowded. No overly perky Anne and Gilbert greeting people. No Diana Barry running around drunk and barfing following a current wine incident. No one yelling at old gossipy women saying they were fat and clumsy and probably didn’t have a spark of imagination. No one nearly dying of croup. For all this, visitors had to use their imagination, which was nice.

In fact, it was quite civilized and full of historicality.

It started to get a bit busier around noon but that is when we left for Montgomery’s birthplace in New London.

Montgomery was born in this little house in 1874. We saw the exact room where she was born, saw her wedding dress and accessories, and looked at her personal scrapbooks.

Next it was off to the Anne of Green Gables museum at Silver Bush, which Montgomery called “the wonder castle of [her] childhood.”

Montgomery’s Aunt Annie and Uncle John Campbell lived here. After her grandmother died, she moved to this house and spent many happy days here. The house is still owned and operated by the Campbell family. Notably, Montgomery wrote Anne of Green Gables in her bedroom on the second floor. On July 5, 1911, she was married in the parlour in front of this mantle:

People still get married here today! Apparently, people from Japan and the US are particularly fond of it. Modern marriages also take place in front of the mantle and they play the same pump organ that Montgomery had played when she got married.

I think I have to call Casa Loma…

Right beside the mantle is the bookcase that was inspiration for Anne’s window friends. The left pane was for Katie Maurice. The right, for Lucy Gray.

The lake near Silver Bush was the inspiration for something special:

I think even Marco enjoyed himself. At the end of the touring, he agreed his life was not a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, after all. The iron had not entered his soul. In fact, the whole experience may have even given him a thrill (although small).

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at Village Pottery (not an Anne site)

a shop which (of course) sells pottery and also something else

Meet my new friend, Fibrensemble handspun, hand dyed wool from Romney sheep, made by Louise Lortie in PEI.

After all the Anne mania, Marco and I drove back to Charlottetown and had lunch at the Olde Dublin Pub

where we fortified ourselves...

for… ANNE THE MUSICAL!!!

The musical was awesome. Cheesy swing dance numbers? Yes. Bad sets? Of course. Rhyming "parrot" with "carrot"? Unfortunately. But it was just ridiculous enough to be wildly enjoyable. There's a reason it's Canada's longest running musical. Even Marco had an excellent time. Seems he may be a kindred spirit, after all. ..

See you tomorrow at the beach.