More post-scripts to the home-improvement frenzy

Apparently, I need to add still more post script photos to my home improvement extravaganza post. As if it didn’t have enough pictures already!

Claudette talks in the comments to this post about the idea for home-made marble magnets inspired by this post of Andrea’s. (Convoluted enough for you?) Ahem, anyway, I made these over the holidays out of some old Christmas cards following Andrea’s example, and I never did get around to blogging about it.

So easy, and fun! I’ll be playing around with new ideas for this as soon as I get another block of free time. (Sometime in 2009, maybe?)

And because I had the camera out, the boys started mugging. If you’re low on your adorable quotient for the day, get a look at Simono the Magnificent, resplendent and shirtless in with his magic cape (the quilt from his crib), his magic wand, and his magic toque. All the Canadian magicians are wearning them these days.

New blog toy: MyBlogLog

I’ve signed up for MyBlogLog. If you haven’t been there, it’s part stats and referrals, part blog widgets, and part online community. I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time over there lately. (As if I weren’t already piddling away enough of my time playing with the sitemeter, let alone bloglines, not to mention the blogosphere as a whole.)

So far, I’m intrigued. I like the stats page, with information about where people have come from, what they read and what they click on while they’re here. I even installed a little widget that keeps track of the most popular out-clicks every day and gives a little pop-up window when you hover over a link, showing how many people have clicked that link today. (Try hovering over the comment link from yesterday and you’ll see what I mean. The top 5 outclicks box is waaaaaay down on the sidebar, near the bottom.)

But there are a couple of things I am less sure about. Another widget you can get shows an avatar (photo you upload) and the name of the most recent visitors to your blog. So, if you’ve signed up for MyBlog Log, and the blog you are reading is also registered, even if you are only quietly lurking, your avatar and name appears in the “recent visitors to this blog” widget.

That, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, freaks me out a bit.

I have always liked the anonymity of blog surfing. You can peek in, take a look around, and leave without saying a peep. Yes, your IP address leaves an electronic signature for those who are tech savvy or simply persistent enough to know how to trace it, but it’s a long way from an obscure character set representing my internet service provider to my name and photo right there under the ‘recent visitors’ column.

(I still haven’t figured out whether you can turn off the recognition thing, or whether you have to be logged in for it to work, or whether it follows multiple IP addresses. One of the reasons I actually signed up for MyBlogLog is because they are sadly lacking in useful FAQs and so I signed up out of curiosity to see if I could figure it out as I went along.)

And then there’s the whole community aspect. I’m wondering if I’ll be any better at this one than I am with any of the other social media sites. I’ve got my Flickr account, and a Linked-In account, and I’m still terrible about the ‘friends and contacts’ part of it. (This would probably be why I’ll never have a MySpace or Facebook account!) If I know you and you ask me to make you a contact, I’ll happily do so, but I never actively seek out contacts.

I’m shy about approaching people. MyBlogLog makes it as easy as a single click to join a blog’s ‘community’(you don’t need to have the community owner’s approval), and when you do your avatar and name are shown on that blog’s community page (here’s mine). I wasn’t too sure about that whole aspect – I was more than content to grab the outgoing-click widget and play in happy solitude on my stats page when one blogger I’ve never encountered before joined my community, and my courage to be social was bolstered. I even ventured out and joined a few communities of my own, mostly because I’ve had personal contact with the blogger. But my barely-repressed inner 14 year old worries that maybe these fairly popular bloggers don’t want awkward me attaching themselves to their blog. (Terrible the scars that high school leaves on you, isn’t it?)

What do you think? I’ve temporarily installed the ‘recent visitors’ widget so you could see what I’m talking about, but I don’t think I like it. Do you also find it vaguely unsettling to be ‘outed’ every time you drop by for a visit? And of course, if you have an account or you sign up for one, let me know while I’m still in a social phase and I’d be happy to join your community!

Recommendations from the kid lit shelves

I’ve often thought about reviewing a couple of kids’ books here. Trouble is, by the time you get 10-pages-in, you’re mostly done. Maybe I should switch to a 20-words-in format for kids’ lit? We struck gold on our last trip to the library and through random luck ended up with quite a few books that were clever enough to engage me while still appealing to the boys.

In university, I took a Canadian Literature course that eventually became one of my favourite courses of all time. The first day, the prof asked us to contribute, anonymously, a few books we would like to study. I don’t remember which books I said I did want to study, but I do clearly remember him laughing as he read out loud my plea: “Just about anything is fine, but please – no more Margaret Atwood.” I’ve since changed my mind about her, and Margaret Atwood is in fact one of my favourite authors, one whose prose I savour and whose writing I hold as a standard to strive towards. I have not, however, warmed entirely to her poetry.

With the charming book Up in the Tree, even her poetry is appealing to me. (The fact that I am only drawn to poetry for beginning readers must surely say something about my level of literary sophistication.) The book was recently released to the US for the first time, and the new edition contains a small note from the author says that in 1978, when the book was first published, it was considered too risky to publish a children’s book in Canada. To mimimize costs, Atwood not only wrote and illustrated the book herself, but she hand-lettered the text and used a simple two-colour process of red and blue ink. Between that and the thick, glossy pages, I think I enjoyed the tactile experience of reading Up in a Tree as much as I enjoyed the words themselves.

The same day, we also got Judith Viorst’s Just in Case. It’s a lovely little book about a little boy named Charlie who likes to be prepared “just in case”. He does things like making 117 peanut butter and jam sandwiches just in case the food stores are all closed and bringing a net and some oars to the beach “just in case” a mermaid grabs him by his big toe and drags him off under the sea to play. It’s quite charming, and the prose has a lyrical quality that makes reading it out loud a pleasure. And the repitition at then end of each section works for both the almost-three year old, who hears it coming and likes to say it along with me, and the almost-five year old, who recognizes the words and likes to say them along with me.

Also on the same day, we got a silly little mystery book by Karma Wilson and Jack E Davis called Moose Tracks. The narrator wonders, in perfect verse, who has left the moose tracks all over the house. The bear hair is explicable, the wood chips are from the beaver, and the chipmunk is responsible for the shells. But who has left the moose tracks? We also enjoyed the witty, cartoonish illustrations in this book.

Care to share a few recommendations?

(Edited to add: for a comprehensive list of toddler-approved books from a toddler who happens to be the daughter of a librarian, not to mention a “cultural nationalist in training”, be sure to see this post from the Mad Hatter!)

Worlds collide

I have a confession to make. I wanted to tell you before somebody else did, or before you figured it out for yourself. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret much longer.

You see, I’ve been cheating on you. I have another blog.

*waits for gasp of dismay and betrayal*

Don’t worry, you’ll always be my first bloggy love. But I needed somewhere to put my ongoing research into the field of government communications and social media, and no amount of non-sequiturs and failed segue attempts could bridge that in with Tristan’s potty adventures and #26.

I wanted to tell you about it because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to lead this double bloggy life. I went to this absolutely fabulous meet-up yesterday of people who are interested in public relations and social media, and I was having a massive identity crisis the whole night. I earned my blogging “street cred” here, but my professional blog stuff is over on the other blog. Every time I joined in the conversation, I vacillated between veteran mommy-blogger and newbie communications blogger. As if I don’t have a hard enough time keeping track of just one identity!

And then there was the sharing of information. I have government of Canada business cards with the standard contact info on them, but no URL; and I have my funky little Moo cards with pictures of the boys from my Flickr account and this URL. (Love love LOVE my Moo cards!!) Which is more likely to give me professional credibility: a biz card with a URL scrawled across the white space in the middle, or a picture of Simon colouring Easter eggs or both boys in the bathtub with my blog title and URL on the back? Of course, I went with the Moo cards, because in the end it’s all about my boys, isn’t it?

So I figured I’d let you in on my secret bloggy life now, because it’s getting increasingly difficult to keep the two blogs separate. I have no intention of linking back here from there, as the goal of the blog is more to be used as an internal collaboration tool, but if you’re interested in the intersection of government communication and social media, feel free to stop by for a visit.

But, um, please keep in mind that many big bosses above me, who are responsible for important things like my paycheque and my computer access, will be following the comments on that blog. As opposed to here, where they probably also read but with a lot less scrutiny and a lack of proprietary interest. I’m just sayin’.

So, without further ado (and you know how I love the ado), I present for your link-surfing pleasure, the Canadian Cybrarian.

Ms Fix-It

I went on a home-improvement tear this weekend.

First, I decided our kitchen chairs were long overdue to be reupholstered. I’ve never actually reupholstered furniture before, but that didn’t stop me.

I got some fabric at Bouclair. I remembered to choose a fabric without a complicated pattern (too hard to centre) but with a nice, thick weave that won’t easily pull or fray. In the end, this navy denim was on sale and I got more than enough for the whole project for $13.

I also picked up one of those fancy front-end staple guns at Home Depot. It was much easier to use than the rusty clunker we inherited from god-knows-where.

In one of my home improvement books, I found basic instructions for reupholstering a dining room chair. I had a little bit of trouble making neat corners, but the denim was fairly forgiving and in the end it was close enough.

I’m happy with the finished project.

It only took me about an hour and a half to do all four chairs, and the navy is nice in my yellow-and-white-with-blue-accents kitchen.

After that, I decided I needed to fix Simon’s dresser. I bought it second-hand at a garage sale long before I was even pregnant, in anticipation of the need for a kid’s dresser some day. Tristan used it when he was a baby, and Simon inherited it when he was born.

Its shallow drawers are perfect for small baby clothes, but over the years, the sides have bowed out just enough that the drawers in the middle were falling off the runners. Every time you pull open a drawer, it slips off the runner and tips into the drawer under it. Rather than buy a new dresser, I’ve been puzzling idly for months on a way to increase the width of the runners by half a centimeter or so, so we could get another couple of years out of it. (As if six years out of a $25 dresser isn’t enough!)

I went to Home Depot, and they recommended a little strip of wood that is ordinarily used in laying hardwood floors, called a ‘slip tongue’ (snicker). It fit perfectly! I tried two different iterations, one to thicken the drawer runner and one to make a wider shelf to sit on the runner. To my great surprise, they both worked. A little bit of glue, a couple of C-clamps, and we’re good to go.

I also bought two under-bed storage boxes from Ikea, and put up some metal bars over the boys’ work table, so they can display their artwork on a rotating basis with magnets instead of masking tape.

What, you might be wondering, was the inspiration for this flurry of activity? Remember how inspired I was feeling by that single lost pound last week? Yah. I found it again. All that hard work last week, and I’m back up a pound. Gah. So if I can’t get my weight under control, I’m damn well going to wrest the rest of my life from the chaos.

I even bought a plant. Poor thing doesn’t stand a chance.

In which my four year old outwits me

For the most part, potty training Tristan was a breeze. He waited until he was three and a half to be ready for it, but when he was ready, the transition was quick, painless and relatively dry. From the last day of diapers, we’ve had a total of maybe a dozen accidents at most. A year and a half later, however, one hurdle remains.

He refuses to wipe his own butt.

We’ve tried cajoling, reasoning, bribing and ignoring him, but he outwaits us every time. And for reasons I’ll never understand, the vast preponderance of the time, he likes to go when we are sitting at the dinner table.

Tristan, from the bathroom: “I’m done.”

Me, at the table: “Good.”

(pause)

Tristan: “Are you coming?”

Me: “No. Wipe yer own butt.”

Tristan, whining: “I can’t!”

Me: “Yes, you can.”

Tristan: “I don’t want to!”

Me: “Well, that’s probably closer to the truth. You have to learn to wipe your own butt, Tristan. Big boys wipe their own butts.”

(pause)

Tristan: “Is this Monday?”

Me, unfazed at the non-sequiter: “No, it’s Saturday.”

Tristan: “Well, I only wipe my own butt on Mondays.”

How do you argue with logic like that? He may have won again today, but you can bet he’s not getting away with it come Monday!

(Edited to add: and by God if he didn’t wipe his own butt on Monday. By his choice, mind you. He called from the bathroom, I reminded him it was Monday, and he said “Oh, okay” and did it. Who knew??)

Food, glorious food!

As I mentioned earlier this week, I seem to have overcome my inability to plan meals.

Since I’m so grateful to you for all your mealtime suggestions, and since I frankly can’t think of anything else to blog about today, I thought I’d share with you my week of dinners. Many of you said you were stuck in a dinnertime rut, too. Maybe this will inspire you – or, more likely, you’ll realize that you like your rut just fine, thanks.

Sunday
Meatloaf, recipe stolen from here (Yummy!)
Sweet potato French fries
Baked beans cooked in the slow cooker
Mixed green salad with mandarin oranges, slivered almonds and Toasted Sesame dressing

Monday
Quesadillas made with low-fat refried beans, cheddar, and diced onions, tomatoes and red peppers, topped with salsa and home-made guacamole

(Does anybody have a good salsa recipe? I’ve always wanted to try making salsa.)

Tuesday
Pasta with stir-fried chunks of red pepper, zucchini, mushrooms and snow peas, tossed with pesto sauce. (I usually make rotini with this, but thought I’d try farfalle this time. Blah. I’ll go back to the rotini for next time.)

Wednesday
I worked late, so Beloved was in charge of dinner. Pizza and wings from the place at the corner. Oh well.

Thursday
Lasagne (from a box)
Mixed green salad with feta, dried cranberries, walnut chunks and home-made dressing
(The boys ate Scooby-Doo pasta from a can.)

Friday
Home-made bean soup (frozen leftovers from last weekend)
Fresh bread
Cheddar cheese slices

Saturday
Chili (one of my specialties – lots of beans and tomatoes, and very spicy)
Toast
Devilled eggs

Repeat for the next 51 weeks and I’ll only have to think of new dinner ideas once a year.

(Stay tuned next week, when I blog the contents of the bottom of my purse. Citizen journalism doesn’t get any more scintillating than this, folks!)

In which I keel over dead from embarrassment

I’ve written before about how sometimes I wonder whether too many people in the office read my blog. As of now, I wonder no longer.

There’s a really nice guy who used to work in tech support in my office. He’s quiet, but kind, and I always enjoyed chatting with him. I knew he’d moved on to another job, and the way things often go in an organization as large as this one, I had no idea where. He slipped off my radar screen, as they say.

Out of the blue, I got an e-mail from him recently. He said,

Hi Danielle
In the fall I was using an old copy of a Ottawa Citizen for
protecting the bricks of my outside window ‘cos I was painting it, and your mug was staring at me ‘cos they did a story about your blog. I am like, that looks like Danielle at work!
So, I have been reading it and it is wonderful.
I especially like the 101 things…
As for #26, this will get better over time, trust me!
Take care and hope to run into you soon!

Now, I wrote that 101 things about me way back in the summer of 2005, when I had tens of readers each week. I’ve often thought about going back and updating it, partly because some of the stuff is out of date but mostly because there is one line in particular that I really always felt didn’t need to be in there. I kept it there all this time out of some sense of moral obligation to editorial integrity, but I have increasingly come to believe that there is a “too much information” threshold that simply should not be crossed.

As I read this very sweet e-mail, I thought to myself, “He couldn’t possibly be talking about that one, could he? Please tell me #26 isn’t that one.” There are surely more than 100,000 words on this blog, and only half a dozen or so that I would truly be uncomfortable discussing over coffee with my most intimate confidantes, let alone with a casual acquaintance.

Cringing, I clicked on my own link and scrolled down. And winced. And blushed. And wished for a giant hole to open up and swallow me and my damn computer whole. Read it while it lasts, because this weekend, number 26 gets plutoed off my list.

Do you think maybe it’s too late to move to a pseudonym?

Imagine they held a winter festival, and forgot to invite winter

Warning: Those of you reading from the Prairies might want to breeze past this one. Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?

Been a long time since I blogged about the weather. Did you know that as a Canadian citizen, we’re constitutionally obligated to discuss the weather at least 37 per cent of the time? And with a winter like this, especially with the undewhelming performance of the Senators (hockey being the other topic we are constitutionally obligated to discuss), there’s nothing else worthy of conversation.

What the heck is up with this weather, anyway? It’s mid-January, and we’re still waiting for winter to arrive. We’ve had two, maybe three snowfalls, plus a few dustings. The temperatures have been in the range of ten or more degrees (Centigrade, bien sûr) above the norm almost every day. Quite frankly, as a cautionary tale on global warming, it’s scaring the hell out of me.

Every February, Ottawa has a winter festival called Winterlude. Central to Winterlude is the Rideau Canal, a 7.8 km skateway recently certifed by the Guiness people as the world’s longest. Also popular are the ice scupltures and the snow playground.

Who would have imagined that Winterlude, nestled deep in the cold heart of February, would be in jeopardy due to unfreezing temperatures? In the Citizen today, they had a little graphic stating that we need at least 10 days of temperatures below -15C for the Canal to freeze. There are only 22 days until the start of Winterlude, and the long-term forecast doesn’t show a single day that will get that cold.

To my great surprise, I’m finding that I’m actually missing the winter weather. I miss the way the snow insulates sound, so that when you go for a walk on a snowy winter evening, the world is peacefully silent except for the crunch and squeak of snow under your boots. I miss the ruddy hue on the boys’ chubby cheeks. I miss that biting, shocking blast of cold that snatches the air out of your lungs when you first step outside.

Who knew it was possible to have a year without a winter? And who knew I’d be disappointed? It’s just not right, I tell you. There are some things we can count on, and a cold Canadian winter should be one of them. It’s just not right.