Asparagus Week



It's the quintessential spring time food - Asparagus.

A fern poking from the ground. Fields that look like dirt with some random spikes reaching for the sunshine. The taste of green, of peas, of spring. The marking of the season in a land where winter lasts for bloody ever.

This week I'm going to showcase one of my favourite foods. Asparagus recipes, tips, and links.

Growing Asparagus

Here on the Prairies asparagus grows. Some might even argue that it thrives, if you treat it right and treat it as a perenial. That means you treasure it in the spring then let it rest. It goes to fern, filling the fields with a froth of green, over the summer. It survives the winter, it really does.

It takes 3 years for an asparagus crown to produce edible product. That means 3 years of patience and care. Then, with annual tenderness you have a lifetime of asparagus. Or, if you were my Mom's family, a lifetime of front yard decoration.


Picking Asparagus

Pick the stalks right from the ground. Let them be at least 6-8 inches tall before you snap them.

If you have the pleasure of visiting an asparagus farm, make sure you check out their pickers. These low-riders will take you throw the fields, saving your back, as pickers gather precious bunches for us lucky consumers.


Eating Asparagus

Contrary to expectations, you can easily and enjoyably eat asparagus raw. It tastes mildly of peas when raw (which means that is my least favourite way to eat it).

Often grown in sandy soil, asparagus can carry dirt to the dinner table. Fill your sink with some cool water and swish the stalks around to loosen any sand and dirt. If your asparagus has been sitting around for a bit then cut off the bottom ends and cook away. If your asparagus is fresh then don't bother trimming off the ends and wasting that precious veg.

The most important thing with asparagus, like nearly any vegetable, is to NOT overcook it. Steam it for a few minutes, grill it, roast it, or even boil it. Just don't overdo it.

Asparagus TypesItalic

With a slight tinge of purple on the heads, green asparagus is the most common kind we see.

More frequently, however, we see white asparagus in the markets and on menus. White asparagus isn't actually any different of a plant. It it regular asparagus that grows covered by dirt. That means that the plants are denied light and do not colour.

Sometimes you can find purple asparagus, although it is rare.

The rest of this week I will share with you three new recipes from me for asparagus as well as some links for more gorgeous recipes. Grab a spear and enjoy.

Enforcement

3 hours.

My 3 year old sat at the table an hour for every year the other night. Just because she wouldn't drink her milk. And because we told her she couldn't leave the table until she did just that.


She cried, she took a bathroom break, she fussed, she tried to play, she desperately worked us for conversation and entertainment. We continued on with our evening - working, cleaning up, putting The Monster to bed (even though she couldn't sleep because she is quite used to her sister in the room), and I even made caramel corn. For 3 hours she sat there. At that point I subbed out the milk with a cold glass. She spilled that one. I cleaned it up and gave her another one. With a nonchalance that belied the battle of wills she simply picked it up and drank it.

Right now you either think we are cruel parents or are filled with admiration for our stick-to-it-ness. Or you think we're dumb. I'm going with all three myself.

A rule is a rule. We don't care if they don't eat all their dinner. As long as they've tried everything on their plate, they can eat as much or as little as they like. But they have to drink their milk. (Very lovely goat milk, I might add.)

As for us parents, our rule is that if we start down a path we don't cave. If the other says something we don't contradict. So even though we had a pile of things to do and actually needed the dining room table, we worked around her. It was exhausting, I'll admit. I'm proud of all of us for sticking to it. And the caramel corn went really nicely with a scotch once it was all over.

(I used this recipe, but subbed the syrup for maple syrup, added pecans instead of peanuts, and crumbled in some cooked bacon with the popcorn.)

And don't tell the kid, but I'm impressed with her. That stubborness will do her well as an adult, if she makes it there.

What are some of your dinnertime rules? What's the longest you've had to go to enforce a rule?

Crazy Busy


This is a post of random notes.

Thank-you so much for the support for Quilts Recover. I'm seeing posts go up around the blogosphere by friends. Emails are coming in already. If there wasn't this rotating postal strike some quilts might even be on their way already!

There've been a number of suggestions for Quilts Recover. Different chapters, financial donations, and offers of quilting tops sent from far away. I promise you that I'm sorting through all the ideas and figuring out ways to maximize quilts and quilters' generosity. You folks are just awesome.

There wasn't a lot of quilting done in the last week. I was up to my eyeballs in writing deadlines. In one day I interviewed Jennifer Paganelli (Oh, she is so awesome!) and a handful of goat farmers (also awesome). In between butt wiping and baking muffins for preschool. Now that's the life!

Lastly, I'm getting the binding on the Shades of Grey quilt. That's today's task, along with prepping for The Monster's 5th birthday party tomorrow.

Then, on Thursday, I'm having knee surgery. Finally. Just one of my knees, but they will check out the other while I'm down for the count. Needless to say, there won't be a lot of quilty action, aside from handstitching that binding, for the next week or so.

On that note, time to get prepping!

Thread Choices

It's down to the quilting on that Shades of Grey Herringbone piece. The first decision is always which thread to use.

I actually starting threading my machine with the normal grey thread I use for piecing. It seemed kind of obvious to use it. It would blend in and carry on the grey theme.

Then I thought about my binding. I'm thinking of going with a turquoise, so I wanted to see if turquoise thread would work. It surely pops! The colour would be great and it would work great with the binding and the back. But I've also got turquoise on the back (shot cottons) and I didn't want to have just one section on the back where the quilting blended in.

Going back and forth between the grey and the turquoise I was torn. The turquoise looks really good on the front, but the grey seemed more in line with the Shades of Grey fabric. Then I remembered that I have a cone of nearly white organic thread. When I put it next to the others I realized that it was the perfect choice. It pops on the back, it reads practically the same as the grey on the front, and it is an organic choice.


This quilt isn't all organic - the muslin foundation isn't organic, the back is a mix of conventional shot cottons, and I tried out a bamboo batting. But I am definitely influenced by Jan's commitment to organics and wanted to push it as much as I could. The organic thread will be a great finish.

Intentions

Hubby took me to a very fancy schmancy restaurant in the mountains for my birthday and this is the only picture my camera took.

We had a 7 course meal: the most amazing fois gras I've ever had, two things I'd never heard of before (compressed melon and dehydrated milk), wines that I'd never think to drink, a goose broth that needs to be bottled and sold as liquid gold, and a glorious sunset over the mountains. And I didn't take a single picture of it.

Don't get me wrong, it was gorgeous food. From artful but real presentations to sublime tastes to inventive techniques. It was a very memorable meal.

The memory will only live in my head, and maybe in my husband's. I did not photograph such a stellar experience because sometimes I just want my dinner to be my dinner. I have no intention of becoming a restaurant reviewer, so that documentation isn't necessary. And I have no intention of documenting everything I eat, Twitter is bad enough for that.

What I do intend to do, and this dinner practiced that intention, is to simply enjoy my food, enjoy my experience. Food writers need breaks too from thinking about writing about food. We want vacations and the only way we'll get them, since we always have to eat, is by putting down the camera and not composing sentences in our head as we chew.

Instead, I'm going to think how awesome my husband looks with the sun setting behind him and the look of joy on his face as he devours his favourite food. I'm going to pinch myself that I experienced such a luxurious treat in the midst of some stressful times. I'm going to look at my sous vide rhubarb and think it's cool, instead of wondering how they did it. I'm just going to eat.

Quilts Recover Launch


The world has seen a lot of tragedy lately. Earthquakes, tornados, fires, and more. Your heart breaks a little bit each time you hear the stories and see the images. More often than not, however, the stories remain part of the nightly news. We talk about it at the dinner table or the office, we might even send in a donation or two to a charitable organization. We each do what we can.

After a particularly trying time myself I decided that I needed to do more than talk and read about it. To break out of my own grief I needed to help others. The images of houses completely gone, evidence of people's lives lived just destroyed were powerful. The thought of rebuilding seems so remote at those times.

Quilts Recover is about providing just one bit of comfort during that rebuilding process. Quilts Recover is quilters providing finished quilts to communities ravaged by disaster.

As of today, Quilts Recover is accepting donations of unused quilts to donate to communities where the rebuilding process is occurring. We accept functional quilts only - no comforters, bedding, duvets, or blankets. All quilts must qualify as lap/nap or bed quilts. All quilts must be complete - no unquilted tops please. Quilts will then be labelled and donated, through registered charitable organizations on site, to target communities.

The first target community is Slave Lake, Alberta, Canada. Earlier this month, May, a wildfire swept through the town of about 7000 people. Nearly half the homes and businesses were destroyed, utterly consumed by the fire. People are only returning to their homes now. Quilts Recover will provide as many quilts as possible to families rebuilding their lives in Slave Lake.

To donate a quilt please contact me directly at quiltsrecover@gmail.com.

Quilts Recover will accept donations of clean, unused, and functional quilts for Slave Lake until July 31. 2011. All quilts will then be labelled and donated. I'll keep you posted on arrivals and delivery times.

The first two quilts will be coming from my own pile of finished work. Quilts I enjoyed making, quilts that someone else can use more than being stored in my cupboards.

Thank-you for your support and donations. I'm looking forward to seeing what the community of quilters can do.

Thank-you to Cathryn Ironside for her generous work on the Quilts Recover logo.

Almost Herringbone



There is cutting and sewing and pressing going on! Check out what those strips of Shades of Grey are turning into.

I was completely influenced by the fabric itself. Jan's bold graphics are so inspiring to me. Such a great change from florals these days. The one Ragg Tagg print fit perfectly into a concept I'd been exploring. So I essentially have taken that one fabric and made it large-scale for the quilt pattern itself. It was so easy to do and I love the effect.


And check out how well it all works with our patio chairs.

Depending on how my evenings go I should be able to share the finished project in a week or so.

Please stay tuned for another project I'm launching next week. This one's a biggie!

Revelations

I've had a revelation over the last few weeks. It does not at all coincide with my birthday. Or the hours spent in the ER with The Evil Genius last week. It started when I came across this particular blog, Can You Stay For Dinner? She chronicles a massive weight loss and living her new life - the triumphs and the struggles. In one post on her weight loss she mentions emotional eating. Many of us do it, myself included. But when I read her post something twigged for me. I was convinced that I ate for the hug that it gave me - beer or chocolate at the end of the day to come down from the stress. In truth, comfort eating for me is a way to simply hide under the covers when I'm too drained to face the world.

This revelation hasn't caused me to suddenly stop eating cake at night. I mentioned that it was my birthday on the weekend, right? But it is making me stop and look at all the things that have been hanging over my head, keeping me down. By not tackling some things on the to-do list, simple and large, I'm effectively hiding my head under the covers instead of moving forward with life.

In that spirit I'm on a kick to catch up with bee blocks and knock out some WIPs. Not all of them, only those that are holding me back from starting some new work. These are commitments I've been avoiding in the interest of doing things for me, but in avoiding them I'm not able to move ahead. They need to get done so I can really pay attention to myself and the fun stuff.

This first set is for Shea, as part of my Pieced Together Bee. I am now addicted to Moda Crossweaves. These are gorgeous! Her only request was right angles only. I found out on this block that you can still do improv, it all matters in how you prep the pieces. I see more challenges like this in my future. And more crossweaves.


The next ones come from the Mid Mod Bee. Every single block and participant in this bee inspire me. I've had so much fun working on these blocks because they are all different and all come from such different places. But the inspiration from mid-century modern design prevails. It's been great to see the interpretations.

This is Robin's. She wanted a loose interpretation of Mondrian, a little less precise though. Mine isn't quite as curved as she'd probably like, so I left it large for her to trim down.


And this is Blair's. She was inspired by some images of fireplaces in a mid-century modern design book. I have the same book, so I totally get the inspiration. What a great combination of solids she has here.

I've got a couple more bee blocks to go and some tops to put together, then I can feel comfortable moving forward on some of my own projects again. Including some baby and wedding quilts. No rest for the wicked! Or the sick as the cold the girls gave me for my birthday is indeed begging to have me hide under the covers.

No Pretense

I've tried to muster the enthusiasm for brisket, eggs, and the coming asparagus. I've tried to cook my family a dinner that is worthy of attention. I've tried to care to want to serve the girls more than bread with butter and honey. I've tried. I've tried. I've tried.

The truth is, I just don't have it in me.

Shopping, planning, cooking, writing, and even reading about food is at the bottom of my list of tolerable activities right now. My energy is devoted to not killing my kids when their energy gets the better of me, to answering the calls from my family when the last thing I want to do is talk, or avoiding the constant crooked finger beckoning of alcohol, sugar, and fat.

It would be easy to say that it's grief. And that would be true. My Dad, my dog, even grief over my old professional life. It's also burn out, insecurity, and the extra weight of life, life, life. I could say that the last 3 months have been killer, but so have the last 6, the last 9, hell the last 18! I could wallow in the crap that has happened from ski accidents to deaths. I could wallow, but then I really wouldn't get out of bed in the morning. And frankly, I don't actually want to wallow - it takes up too much energy.

I want to think about Happy Foods, to enjoy cooking, to get excited about being creative in the kitchen, to grab the girls and hit a farm. It just isn't there, though. I frankly don't give a rat's ass about food right now. I'm desperate for people to bring me casseroles or a pot of chili. I would do anything for my husband to decide to make Spanish Rice every single night.

On top of that, I really don't care to photograph or write about anything I do eat or cook. Hell, I posted a picture of a ridiculous can opener last week. My blog needs some quality control. Or a serious kick in the butt.

I wish I was the kind of person that could stock up on frozen meals or processed food. It really would make life easier right now. The fact that I haven't got there yet means something. It means that not all is lost. Somewhere inside is the person that I do know that I am, the person that ultimately does care whether my kids eat fruit in season and that we know our farmer.

Food blogging started as an outlet for me, a way to practice my writing and get me out of my comfort zone. Then it turned into my comfort zone. Now I'm not sure what it is. Mostly, it's a challenge and I don't mean that in a good way. But I made a commitment and for now I'm sticking with it. That commitment includes being honest and open. In doing that, however, I feel like the tone here hasn't been great. My frustration with life is certainly evident. Coming here must be like hanging out with a whining pessimistic friend - eventually it gets to you.

That doesn't mean I can suddenly pretend to be chipper and fake enthusiasm for another brownie recipe. Perhaps the asparagus will indeed snap me out of things, or maybe I'll find some fiddleheads somewhere? Or maybe time will simply allow my creativity and motivation to slowly creep back? Those girls of mine don't give us much choice. Just the other day, out of nowhere, The Monster asked me to cook some Czech food. Know any good recipes? I've got to find something for some new explorations or the middle aisles of the grocery store just might become my new home instead of the farmers' market. That gives even me a little shudder.

But I would still take any cheese covered casseroles left on my doorstep.

Heartening

Heartening
72'' by 72''

A few weeks ago my sister turned 40! To mark the occasion my sister-in-law and I (she's also a quilter) decided to make her a quilt. Everyone deserves a quilt on such a momentous birthday. This is the result of some late nights filled with cider and crass humour. Oh, and some love too.

It was an easy quilt to put together. We used the Chopsticks method. I love taking a pretty modern design idea but using it with unexpected fabrics. The softer quality to these greens and neutrals would usually be seen on a more traditional quilt. With this design, though, they are totally different. We chose the colours to coordinate with my sister's house.

The quilting was done entirely with a walking foot. Yes, a walking foot made all those curves. They are such gradual curves that you can easily do it without dropping the feed dogs. I really wanted some curves to contrast the sharp lines of the quilt top. And even though I confident with my free motion work, I needed something that I knew wouldn't provide me with a single challenge considering the timing of when I was quilting this. One little tension issue and I would have lost it.

The back was pieced from fabrics I had in my stash. A few yard cuts and some fat quarters. Fabric I bought and loved but still hadn't used. The pops of blue work because a few of the greens on the front have some bluer tones. Besides, all those neutrals were getting to me, I wanted to more colour!

Here is my brother putting on the label. He hates this picture because he says his hands look old. I hate to point it out to him that he is.. ahem, older than my sister. I love it because here are the surgeon's hands sewing. Meticulous and caring, perfect for a surgeon and an older brother.

Just a simple striped binding. It has all the colours of the quilt. It was a lucky find as I was picking up the batting I saw it by the till. I didn't actually have the quilt with me, but I was pretty sure it would work. It was perfect - the right colours but soft enough not to overpower the quilt itself.

We gave it to my sister the weekend we were cutting down a pile of trees at my Mom's house. I couldn't help but snap a photo with some wood. Aside from the trees there is a lot of wood that my Dad gathered over the years. It comes with the territory when you work in construction.

And here is my sister celebrating with her quilt. I hope it is giving her plenty of comfort. I bet she and her son are already spending some good time snuggling.

Happy Birthday Jan!
This quilt is a part of the Bloggers' Quilt Festival.

Amy's Creative Side

Where to Start?

~~~repost because Blogger crashed and lost the original one~~~

Back in March I left Amanda Jean's place with a great friendship and a pile of challenges. My challenge really, is figuring out which one to do first?


This roll of fat quarters is so, so, so out of the realm of my usual. Hers to. We split it into fat eighths so we could each have some of everything. Of course we can add more too! I think it will be a great challenge to turn this rather subdued and traditional stack of fabrics in a very funky and bold way. I've already got a design in mind. My only hint is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory...

The fat quarter bundle was actually a treat from Bernadette at Traditional Pastimes. She got so exited while I was pulling fabric that she cut an identical bundle for herself. I'm quite intrigued to see what she does with her fabric.


Here is another bundle from Traditional Pastimes in a gorgeous colourway. Some fabrics are quite bright, some more subdued. It should make for a perfect blend in a simple pattern. I'm thinking a variation on half square triangles, but nothing is set in stone yet. There could also be pinwheels.


Then there are these two neutral fabrics. Just two fabrics. Nothing else. It's a quilting challenge. This one is very exciting to me. I actually got it sewn together and basted last weekend. It was my turn for a demo at guild so I used this as a sample for basting a quilt.


Finally, before I left she gave me this stack of fabric from Connecting Threads. It's the Canning Day line. I think it will blend perfectly with some vintage feedsack prints I've got. I already know that I'm going to make Amanda's quilt from Fresh Fabric Treats. I know, not me, right? But I love her pattern and I think the fabrics will be perfect for it.

Who knows when Amanda Jean and I will get a chance to see each other again? Thankfully we have the internet and our readers to keep us honest and open. Make sure you keep asking me about these projects. And don't worry, there are more...

More Grey



It might seem appropriate that I'm working with grey fabric these days, but I assure you that these Shades of Grey fabric are far from dreary and dull. Clear tones, loads of white, and some amazing graphics on the latest line from Jan at Daisy Janie. This line is also printed on certified organic cotton.

Jan sent me some of this new yardage a few months back. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get to it until very recently. Now I have an exciting project underway using these great prints. For now, I've cut strips. And I'm drooling over this particular print and it just might have inspired the design of this quilt, much like the Ogee fabric from Geo Grand inspired my Ornamental Organic quilt.


As usual, I'll keep you posted on my progress.

If you are interested in Shades of Grey, I've seen them available for purchase so far at Fat Quarter Shop, Wondrous Wovens, Sew Mama Sew, and Marmalade Fabrics.

Happy Foods

Comfort Food gets all the attention. The creamy, cheesy, starchy, and heavy food that we seek when it's cold, when life is hard, when we need a bit of love and a set of arms to hug us isn't around. There comes a point when comfort food isn't enough or it's become too much. That's when we have to pull out the Happy Food.

Happy Food is the food that we love to grow, pick, cook, and eat. It gives us pleasure in thought, touch, smell, and taste. When you think of Happy Food you can't help but smile. In a way it is comforting, but instead of hiding in relief it bursts through you with peace or joy.

It might seem that Happy Food is seasonal. The snow finally melts, green things poke up from the ground, calves are suckling on the ranches. So we start thinking of the ease of warm weather and the fresh food that comes with it. We dream about sun-warmed tomatoes and fresh asparagus. The stews, baked pasta, and spices of winter kept us warm but they need to be put away for at least a few months.

I would argue that we need to find the Happy Food regardless of the time of year. Feed yourself to nurture the joy in your soul, not the pain. Feed yourself the food that fills you with pleasure long before one taste reaches your mouth. Feed yourself happy.

These are the things that feed me happy.


Tomatoes, warm from the bush, salted on toast with aioli, or slow, slow roasted and eaten like candy.


A good burger, preferably my husband's, or a thick, medium-rare steak.


Raspberries picked from the bush, and hopefully made into gecko fingers, and eaten one at a time.


Fresh peaches.


Ice Cream, of pretty much any flavour like Mint Chocolate Chip, Salted Caramel, or Strawberry.


Carrots thick with the flavour of the stock they flavoured in a long, slow simmer.


Poached eggs, peppered and placed on hash, last night's veggies, or sauteed greens with feta.


Maple syrup.


Brussels Sprouts. Roasted is the best way, but I'll take them any way I can get.


Pink Grapefruit, eaten in sections on cold, cold winter days. Best with company.

What about you? What are your happy foods?

Yee-Haw

My weekend was a country song. I'm no poet, nor a songwriter, but the events and emotions of the weekend would really make a good country song.

After a stop at a doughnut shop and a ride on the Prairie highway in a 1 ton dually I found out I need surgery. I know that, have known it since I wrecked my knees last year, but the surgeon is finally willing to schedule the first one.

We broke out the chainsaw to remove some trees at my Mom's place. Many have needed to go for years and my Dad was quite hung up on getting it done. So Hubby brought up his chainsaw and the family gathered for a heck of a lot of tree chopping.

My sister turned 40! We celebrated by chopping down trees with a chainsaw. And we gave her the quilt that we worked on in secret (more on that quilt another day).


There is a new baby in the family. A gorgeous, happy little baby boy to cuddle, tease, and laugh with. He is little brother to Hubby's little brother's first son. Cuddling him was about the most perfect thing in the world for me this weekend.


My dog died. Buster aka Bustamonte aka Damn Black Dog never woke up on Saturday morning. The big galoot was happy and playing with the kids on Friday, chillin' at my feet at the end of the night. He was healthy, as far as we knew, and not that old. And Saturday morning he was gone, having died in the night at the foot of the bed where my Dad used to sleep.

We toasted the Damn Black Dog/drowned our sorrows at a bar called The Beer Hunter. 'Nuff said.

Then there was that whole killing the big terrorist thing, but I had nothing to do with that.

Surgeons, chainsaws, births and birthdays, secret US military missions, and a dead dog. Yup, that's a country song for sure.

Quilt Snob?

Am I a snob?

Okay, don't answer that right away.

There has been a lot of talk and entertaining posts lately about a lot of quilt arena issues - modern versus traditional, rants about designers, plain old rants, beginners feeling shamed, quilters being snobby, and more. I'm not going to repeat them all here, and I doubt I've even seen them all. But if you want some really interesting posts read them here, and make sure you read all the comments too. Note: I've included different opinions here, only this post is my own.

It is actually the comments I'm reading that are pushing me to write this post. Many folks are upset with "quilt snobs". Unfortunately, it isn't always clear to me what defines a snob.

The way I define a snob is someone who intentionally works to make someone else feel bad for the way they act, dress, define themselves, propping themself up higher on their already high horse in doing so. When it comes to quilting snobs, what does this mean?

... Disdain for one style of quilting over another?
... Talking smack about a fabric line you aren't a fan of, and by extension, the designers?
... Shooting down bloggers who maybe don't have a fancy camera or can only take their pictures late at night when they have a spare moment to work?
... Judging people who are trying to make a living at quilting?
... Being openly critical of bee participants?
... Just another name for the quilt police marking down missed points and skipped stitches?
... Big Name Bloggers refusing to comment on other blogs?
... Groups of friends that are collaborating/chatting and defined as cliques?

I've been critical of charm packs/pre-cuts and the reliance on them. I struggle with group projects where the simple quality of the workmanship is lacking (ie. no 1/4 seams, lack of pressing, and no squaring up of blocks). I'll admit that I'm tired of plain patchwork quilts. And stippling. (I've done more than my fair share of both)

All this, however, doesn't make me a snob. Anytime I think these things I keep my mouth shut (until today, obviously). If I visit a blog I like and see a quilt I don't then I move on to the next one in my Reader. I like to challenge myself so that's why you don't see me do many things twice, but that's me. I have no interest whatsoever in making someone feel bad or trying to make myself feel better with an off-putting or off-colour comment.

I will never condemn you for your pattern choice. I will never judge your fabric choice, but I will share my considered opinion if you ask. I will never shoot someone down in a public forum for their own creativity, work, family, or anything quilty related.

Rather, I want more people quilting. I want blogs to inspire. I want new or hopeful quilters to come to blogs and think "I can do that!" Or, if they are intimidated by the work (and not the quilter) think, "I can't wait until I can do that!" I don't think I'm alone with this goal. I want people to feel motivated to finish their quilts however they like, with the emphasis on finishing.

In pursuit of this goal I will continue to share my own inspiration, my work - both easy and difficult - tips and tutorials and yes, challenge the conventions. I will always encourage people to break free from patterns, charm packs, and single line quilts. I will always, always stress care in construction. I will always answer questions you send my way. I will push for people to be open with their process

This doesn't make me a snob.

Or does it? Be honest, I've got skin as thick as an elephant. But remember, my Dad just died.

(That was a joke.)

What makes a quilt snob? Have you had any run-ins? What's your strategy for dealing with the quilt snobs you encounter?

Routine

When my father-in-law died seven years ago and we used a lot of humor to cope with our grief we would joke that we could say, "My Dad just died," and get what we wanted in any negotiation or to get out of something we didn't want to do. My girls are already picking up on this and when they cry because I won't let them have another Mini Egg they scream, "I'm just sad because Dido died." I can't help but laugh, then still refuse to give them another chocolate. I need to accept their own process of grieving and settling back home, but that includes losing the bad diet of our time away. Besides, Mama needs those Mini Eggs.


My Dad died and we buried him last week. After nearly 2 months of not being at home, of daily trips to the hospital, of more candy that I thought possible, of captured meals, of the chaos of 6 little cousins getting together more than they ever have before, of the comfort of cookie it is time to get back to a routine.

There is a lot to be said for routine and kids.

To be honest, though, I used to scoff at the parenting advice that practically shouted out the value of ROUTINE! for kids. Most kids are resilient and adaptable. Not all, but most. And I certainly didn't want to become a slave to my kids routine. Wake. Eat. Play. Sleep. Repeat.

Right now, though, we're craving routine.

We watch PBS Kids while we eat our bread with butter and honey, as we do every single morning. (Okay, so they did this at my parents' place every morning too.) Now we can stay in our pajamas longer. We can soak in the sun streaming through the windows. We can pet our dogs. We can peek out the front window and spy on the neighbours. We are home.

So long as there is bread, butter, and honey we can eat. We can be boring and routine.

A Pillow

There is no clever way to say this. My Dad died.

On April 12 the cancer finally took him. It was very rough there at the end, with struggles to breathe and maintain dignity, with exhaustion and pain.

We buried him a week ago.

My girls, ever the concrete and literal thinkers, obsess over exactly how one exactly gets buried or why those men are singing songs they can't understand in fancy, embroidered capes or what the spear thing is their cousin is carrying or why the bells have smoke or why they can't pull down Dido's baseball cap collection if he is dead now and doesn't need it.

My family struggles with the conflicting emotions of grief and relief.

There are photos I took of the process of dying and moments in the hospitalization that struck me, but they aren't mine to share yet. It's funny, but I think I've crossed the line into some kind of photographer (albeit very amateur) because there were photos I wanted to make, even at the funeral. Making photos is now an outlet for me.

These two photos are of my Baba's embroidery and what we did with it. While we picked the most simple coffin we could, at my father's request, it still had a bit of a ruffly pillow. So we crafted our own. We took some of my Baba's embroidery and appliqued it to a case we made for the coffin pillow. It might seem morbid to share it here, but I know you will all understand. I needed to share the beauty of my Baba's work, and our desire to bury Dad with the work of two generations.


I stood at the prayer and funeral services and delivered the eulogy. It was a challenge, as my relationship with my father was certainly not perfect and actually far from good at times. But he asked me and I couldn't say no. So I stood and told the story of my father and how his story is also mine, is also the story of everyone who knew him. And now it is yours.

I spoke of the need to get down on the floor and play with the little ones even when the dishes need doing or one more seam needs to be sewn. I spoke of never leaving things let unsaid. I spoke of the need to live your life, to make it through the day taking the time to share your story, to create your story with the people around you.

In Use

That's my Dad's quilt there. It rests on the cot and hospital pillows in my Dad's room. That room is in the Palliative unit at the hospital. He would sleep under it himself, as he did when he first entered the hospital, but the cancer makes him hot (and hungry). He makes us use the quilt as we take our turns spending the night with him. Comfort all around in the darkest of moments.

Death Row Dinners

My Dad is dying. Over 50 years of smoking will indeed catch up with you.

He's now as comfortable as one can be in his condition in a Palliative unit. We've all but moved in with my mom to support her and the rest of the family as we deal with hospital visits, nighttime vigils, loss of appetite and the inevitable stress and pain that comes with all of this. While I've been surviving on Mini Eggs and beer, my Dad has a renewed appetite. Thank goodness for steroids!

On the days when he isn't wolfing down a bag of jellybeans for breakfast or eating chocolate bars when he can't sleep at 4 am, he is planning his next home cooked meal. After months and months of no appetite and a weight loss that will see him buried in his wedding suit from 45 years ago he is nothing short of starving at all times. Unfortunately, all he's doing is feeding the cancer at this point. The doctors have pointed out that he is only eating for pleasure, and not nourishment at this point.

So pleasure it will be.

We get the opportunity to gather for family meals when Dad is released on a day pass. The first time he submitted his meal request days in advance. Chicken, ribs, shrimp, and onion pie. He didn't much care what we served for vegetables. This past weekend he asked for roast beef, real chicken noodle soup, ham, kasha, and raisin pie. Again, he wasn't picky about the vegetables. I guess when you are eating for pleasure things like salad don't matter much.

The meal requests almost feel like he's a death row inmate asking for his last supper. Many of us have been asked what we would want for our last meal, but when faced with the real prospect of such a meal it is the visceral pleasures that win, as do the memories of taste.

There we sit, 8 adults and 6 kids, wolfing down the meal as if it is the last, or the first, for all of us. In a strange twist the kids end up at the dining room table while we adults crowd, with the food, in the kitchen. The meals come together with the efforts of everyone. Someone makes the pie, another makes the kasha, a few of us throw the soup together. My sister makes a roast beef, complete with carrots and potatoes. The salt and pepper shakers that have accompanied us for over 30 years are still there, as is my parent's wedding flatware. The comfort of the familiar in looks and tastes is there for all of us.

We fill our plates, then eat seconds, picking with our fingers from the serving dishes. Carrots, heavy with the pan juices from the roast. Beef dipped in Dad's homemade horseradish cream. Family dinner.

My Dad, with his appetite, wolfs it all down. His inherent grumpiness is not gone, complaining about the noise the kids are making or the roast that the rest of us love. Then, while we sit in the living room, chatting and looking through Dad's high school yearbooks, he periodically wanders back into the kitchen to pick at the meat. Taking in every last ounce of his family and his favourite foods.

Beyond a reflection on these death row dinners, this post is also an entry for the Canadian Beef contest to win a scholarship to Eat, Write, Retreat.