Artist Hour

   I have been busy in the kitchen this morning. Cookies were the objective, so a'rolling we did go. Shortbread is the result and they are yummy (Some broke! I had to try them!). And how do you keep two little kids away from such deliciousness that they had a hand in? Exactly. And yes, there are still some to share with visitors. 

   "Visitors?", you ask.

   Yup, visitors. For these cookies are not exclusively for us to enjoy. Oh no, they are for the studio tour this weekend. My part in the preparation for this weekend's London Artists Studio Tour is small, but I  lend my hand where I can. I am quite excited and happy to do so as well. If all goes well, perhaps Acme Animal will make a few dollars. I am going to plug away here, for this is where I work. Lucky me, I get to spend what days the ladies let me painting, listening to CBC and joining in the running commentary about life in general. It really is a dream job (well, minus the pay that is - just bugging ladies!). So perhaps if you are in the London area this weekend, you can come check out the tour. I will be playing artiste on Saturday, but the tour runs Fri-Sun. We create whimsical metallic animal pieces, but there are several artists on the tour and painting, sculpture, woodworking, printmaking and  stained glass are among the beautiful creations to be found. So come on out and  see what London has to offer amongst its creative set. If you haven't guessed already, the links here go to the tours home page and their Facebook page. From either of the links, you can get a listing of where all the artists are located. It is a self-guided tour, so buckle up and enjoy. Hope to see you there!

Friends via Chocolate Shortbread

   This post may seem familiar to one I did at Christmas, but I have added a twist. Since everyone seemed to be feeling better today, I thought we would do some baking this afternoon. My girls love to bake and don their aprons faster than I can finish this sentence.  Today's baking was baking with a purpose though. 

   Yesterday after swimming lessons, we were supposed to go to our friend's house for dinner. Well, T kiboshed that little plan by painting the van in (you don't really want the details, do you?). Right then. So I bundled a bootless, coatless T back into the van and called our friends to say that we would not be attending dinner as planned. The problem was that I had just received their house key, as last week we had arrived there first. Not wanting to leave us out in the cold, a key was proffered. Bad timing. As it was now nearing 7pm and no dinner had been eaten by anyone, it was decided that dear D would come over to pick up the keys at around 8pm. Once I had T safely tucked into bed, R and I dined on strawberries, cherry tomatoes, crackers, cheese and left-over noodles. Bless his soul, D showed up with some of the home-cooked soup that would have been our dinner. It was delicious, but I am sure would have been better eaten with friends and a bottle of wine.

   So while I thought to entertain the children with baking, I also recalled a promise I had made at Christmas to make some gluten-free shortbread for N. What better way to fill the day than to serve up a little yummy thank you for being such good friends. So here is a post for you today N, for being a good friend and super support. Your gluten-free chocolate shortbread cookies will arrive shortly. Thank you!

Memory Lane via Cookies

     Chocolate chip cookies. Yummy!

   As promised, cookies were baked this morning. My girlies love to bake and it is a sweet moment to share this love with them. My Grandmother fostered this love in me, as she always baked with my sister and I when we were little. I cherish memories of the delectable smells of freshly baked bread, sugar cookies, thimble cookies, jam jams and so much more. If we were patient, it was a treat to be given a beater or spoon to lick the sweet confections off of them. The bowl was the "icing on the cake", if you will. There was never a fear of  becoming ill from the raw eggs in the batter. I have eaten so much raw batter that I do not worry about it, although the baked cookies are more to my taste now. My children's delighted faces that light up with the promise of their own spoon to lick is a beautiful reminder of my youth. I cannot help but smile and send lovely little "thank yous" through the air to dear Grammy that gave me this gift in the first place.

  

   My Grandfather also comes to my heart and mind, as the baking progresses. I have two of my Grandmothers baking sheets that my Grandfather made. While I have a cupboard full of baking sheets, the two Grandpa made are my favourite. The cookies always come off perfectly and the sheets clean up easily. They look brand new and I know that is a sign of quality. They have seen umpteen number of treats and they will see numerous more if my children have anything to say about it.

   My Grandparents were a special part of my childhood that I hold close and cherish more as my days go on. I appreciate their self-sufficiency in a world they literally built from the ground up. They constructed a house blasted from the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia. Grandpa kept chickens and we gathered eggs by the dozen when we visited. The fowls also graced the soup pot when they were done laying, a fact that bothered my childhood sensibilities. 

   Today I let nothing go to waste and boil chicken carcasses into stock with a nod to Grandma again. A raised garden bed filled their kitchen table and larders with veggies. Raspberries, peas, strawberries and beans were thinned out by my sister and my little hands with glee. The canning process that saw their produce saved for winter serving was something I attempted to recreate this Fall. I aspire to get better at it as the years go by. My modern family thinks I am a little goofy for spending so much time at these menial tasks, but my jams are always accepted by all. Should we slow down and appreciate the gifts that are offered us by Mother Earth and memory? I cannot answer for all, but for myself I know the glee glimpsed on my little girls faces when aprons are pulled out tells me yes. Most definitely yes. 

Thank you Grandma. Thank you Grandpa. Merry Christmas.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig

I am home. My kids are home. My cat is home from the vet and should remain that way for the next little while. My pocketbook sighs with relief. It was almost looking like we were going to have to cancel R's birthday, for all the money pouring into Miss Kitty's vet bills. She is happy and eating again, with no barf in sight and not stepped into yet. Nothing worse than stepping in cat barf in bare feet first thing in the morning on the way to the bathroom to pee, BEFORE I have my morning coffee into me. Just sets a nasty tone for the day, I have to tell you.

That is all I have tonight, as I am tired and bed is calling. The dedication was lovely and not too many tears were shed. None by me surprisingly (as I leak constantly over almost anything), but I was trying to convince R to be quiet while the speeches were going on. Almost three-year-olds don't like to be told anything, especially to be quiet, but she did get to clap (although was wondering where the music had been since she was clapping. She loves to clap. There were cookies too. Life doesn't get much better than cookies. I have to agree on that point.