If You're Going To Be Me, It Helps To Be Me.

If you're going to be the kind of person who decides that a fun activity for you and your toddler is to wear the protective cardboard things from inside a box of new Corningware dishes like hats...




...it helps to be the kind of person who also happens to have a vintage Depression glass eye cup on the bathroom shelf, for use in washing fragments of cardboard out of the toddler's eye from when she pulls the hat all the way down around her neck and the points then keep it from being easily pulled back off.




Which is why I'm the one still wearing a stupid thing on my head and taking a minute to let you know that it's a VERY GOOD thing to collect things you may only use once in ten years, and even though you might curse every time you dust them, it's the ONE time you need them that counts.

Smells like...

...the holidays.

Clove and Clementine pomanders. What? They're supposed to be clove-studded oranges? Who the h-e-double hockey sticks has time for ORANGES?! We're just lucky I'm not doing clove-studded kumquats.


Josephine, showing more of her emerging vision and already remarkable creativity made the funky "noman" (again with the dipthongs) in the foreground. She then left to go and look through the dirty south window at the mangy squirrel we've been feeding. We call him "Fatty Fatty Boombalatti", and believe it or not -- Boo Boo has not tried to kill him.

Boo actually sits within feet of Fatty and watches him eat Josie's bread crusts.



And, I'm wondering, what is with the partially hairless squirrels running around Toronto lately?

Josephine is going to grow up thinking squirrels look like naked mole rats at this rate. Whatever disease is affecting them is ruining my kid's picturesque childhood.

Oh, Boo Boo. It's kind of rainy outside. Do I detect a glimmer of hopefulness which might beget some gratitude? Maybe we should let you in.


Or, you know...





...maybe not.

What I Did On My Vacation

Do you really want to know? Really, all I can do is offer a few glimpses. It's all kind of a blur at this point.

I seem to remember going to the Santa Claus Parade. It's not that exciting, like I saw most of the parade, because mostly what I saw were other children's bums perched on their father's shoulders. Josie was on Steve's, and her legs "fell asleep" for the first time. The "pins and needle" experience was so frightening for her - she collapsed on the sidewalk and wouldn't stand I was instantly struck with the idea that tights and socks and sneakers and pants weren't warm enough, and so it was my fault she'd be crippled for life by frostbite.


But, it passed, and as more people gave up, we soon had better and better views of the um...less than magical Loblaws Cheddar Gator float.


And by the time the Big Man himself came along, we had second-row seats. So it all worked out.




But Josie was still "So SO COLD!" She griped about it all the way home.




Oh, cripes...what else? I'm forgetting already. OH! I worked on more crafts, like button-decorated thumbtacks. Guess what lots of people are getting for presents this year! Part of my commitment to disprove the myth that handmade gifts are great Christmas presents...if you're seven!



And my new needle-felting hobby? Coming along nicely.




The inspiration for that project needs no introduction, I think. This week, in the life of Boo Boo, we have had a few more episodes of runny poo on his tail. He's had a few baths. If there is one cat you don't want to give a bath to, it's Boo Boo.



In other tales of incontinences, Josephine has had a few "accidents", the explanation of which were explained by a little infection. A trip to the doctor's office on Wednesday ended in a spectacular meltdown when we tried to buy a turkey for Thanksgiving on the way home. I'll admit I'm still shaken by that tantrum - even I was in tears. I'm blocking it by recalling the fun memory of when we saw some construction on Broadview, and she said "Look! A Snort!"



Except, because she is having trouble with dipthongs, she said "Look! A Nort!" So this week I'm calling Toronto East General. I learned from our Doctor that if your child is under three, you don't need a referral if you suspect they're in need of speech therapy, and they'll get help a little faster. Or, at least by the time you actually get help, it might clear up on its own (crosses fingers).



And then it was time for (American) Thanksgiving.


Which means it's time for another round of images of my father doing his impression of a corpse.






Oh... you did catch that didn't you? My dad is doing his best "Al Bundy", though, because my childhood memories are so ripe and pungent still, I'd swear that move was stolen from him.



Steve says I should be ashamed of publishing such images on the internet, because my dad was nice and slipped me some money before he left. I say that it's entirely deserved, because the extra dosh in no way makes up for the psychological damage caused by exposing my child to my parents. I am attributing a lot of Josie's meltdowns this week to the stress of that visit. My mom was in full-on pinching, tickling, crazy-making mode that day, and I've been paying for it since.

That and my digestion - oy, look at this carcass.




I gave most of the leftovers to Steve's folks, but I still had to scrape that shit out of my pan. I'm glad we only eat a whole turkey once a year, and I ask, "Is it really worth it?". That bottle of wine? It looks like the Madonna on the label - but really, I think it was some vintage eighties Blue Nun in disguise. My folks provided it from their stash - I swear, I haven't drunk such cheap plonk since I first came of age and sampled my first Bartles and Jaymes.

Plus, my mom pumped my daughter full of creampuffs, and it took two days to come down off that sugar high.



Which brought us to the birthday party we attended on Saturday, where Josephine reminded me of, well, me. She stole frosting from the cake,



got a little crazy and flashed everyone,




and we left the party after she had a spectacular meltdown.

Then a bunch of other stuff happened, like asking Steve and his dad to put new handles on the cupboards and it getting all screwed up because they didn't respect my funky mismatched order and because our house is old and screwy, and really, all I can say is that I'm glad last week is over with and I don't want to spend any more time on it.

What I learned though, is that I miss being able to check in on people I like whenever I like. I don't necessarily fill my time with more, better or different things if I'm not blogging. I like reading things on-line as much as I like reading books or magazines. I like shopping online as much as I like spending a Sunday at the One of a Kind Show.

I like my computer. I missed it. I'm going to close it now, and hug it. Then, Josie and I have a nice day to go and enjoy. See ya!

All the News That's Fit to Print

Keeping it Weird (oh...and There Are Scary Clown Pictures In This Post)

It's a rainy day, and I'm at Winkel. I'm looking out the window. This is what I see, just imagine people hurrying past with their umbrellas up, yet their heads are still bent down.



I'm savouring it, like I'm swimming in a sea of sanity. Josephine is in the good care of Grandma Joan and Papa Glen, and (looks at wristwatch) is probably being fed her third or fourth Timbit by now.



I'm sitting at the desk, having a green tea from Sushi Marche next door. I'm also so full of sushi and tempura-battered vegetables that I had to unbutton my pants. In the interest of full disclosure, I often get free sushi, not only because John and Emi are the nicest people that could ever own a sushi restaraunt that gives me free sushi, but because I do buy it often, plus I buy tea, and Pocky and party platters and when customers see me eating their awesomely designed plates, they want it too so it brings them business. And, I am about to eat the orchid you see here.



Why yes, that is Matthew McConaughey's prom picture! And the ceramic hand thingy I just bought as a Christmas present for Steve. And over to the right are bookmarks we make out of scraps of oilcloth and pass out to customers. Aren't we cute?! I'm going to cut some more bookmarks later today.

After I peek at you!



(Waving!)

So, why am I posting this when I could be reading my current book? When I could be enjoying my new felting hobby? When I could be doing more dusting? Because I'm a bit sad - this is my last week here until next year. I work here when Kari, the fun and fantastic owner of the shop has other work. She won't need me (sniff) until she picks up more work after the holidays, most likely. I really, really like it here (um, Hi Kari! Are you reading this?) because it's exactly the shop I would love to own myself, but I don't have (and don't want to have!) any of the really hard responsibilities like the bills and the buying and the balancing. So have a look around, and then I'll tell you why I posted this.

Yesterday I dusted and shuffled things around. Sometimes the objects tell me what I call "colour stories".

Other times, I'll see some objects that may or may not have come in together, and they tell me that they want to be together to create a vignette - hence the wooden sailor S&P's needed to go next to the ship's decanter with the etched glass schooner. Then, the blue pottery followed, because it felt like the frothy waves of a midnight sea to me. Then, of COURSE the French porcelain lustre boat-shaped salt, pepper and toothpick holder thingy belonged on that shelf.



Lately, the store has a great collection of needlepoint pictures. This one, of a country wedding, really appeals to my love of folk art.

Whereas the monks really appeal to my love of kitschy art.







And the one above? It appeals to my love of borderline offensive art. It also reminds me of one of my father's all-time favourite ethnic slurs. The pair of lovely American Indian children in needlepoint below, flanking the other beautiful ethnic child painting inspired me to put a pink and copper tabletop together.



And, of course, no collection of bizarre needlepoint art is complete with out a scary clown:



Which is nowhere near as scary as the clown painting that's here:



Of course, if you'd like to create your own textile-type kitsch, we have kits for that!

Oh yes - there's some of the oilcloth. Here's a better look:


I use my oilcloth tote nearly every, my oilcloth lunch sacks for everything from Josie's wet bathing suits, loose vegetables at the farmers' markets to, well, lunches. It's also sold by the yard, for tablecloths or playmats. We have a yard of chalk-cloth, which is like a fabric chalkboard, that Josie loves to play on.


My love for vernacular photography (that's a fancy way of saying "other people's snapshots") is deeply, deeply fulfilled by a huge assortment that's ripe for pawing through.


Here: orange, brown and teak "colour story"!


A gorgeous rocking chair - and just one wall of some of the fantastic art Winkel has, aside from tacky needlepoint pictures:


A detail of the chair (before I moved it up on the back deck to create more floor space) and my "brown story" shelves, featuring the ever-present accumulation of Dutch kitsch. Um, in case you didn't know, Winkel doesn't mean anything um...pertaining to a body part. It means "store" in Dutch.


Here's the west wall, showing Kari's fabulous taste in small-press cards, which complement the vintage tsotchkes so very well:



OOH! By the way - in that one basket, there's a bunch of darling vintage childrens books. Josie and I read them when we're here.


Winkel sells Re-covered Journals and Re-cord albums. Journals and Scrapbooks and mini-notebooks that are made from recycled books and album sleeves. Not only do I think it's a fabulous idea - they won a fancy award for "Innovation In Waste Management" a few years ago in Nova Scotia.

If you buy a piece of jewellery, for just $1 more you could take it home in a gift bag that was embellished by yours truly! Yes! One day last week, I sewed vintage buttons and oilcloth flowers onto (counts them) eighteen velveteen bags. It was an excellent way to show my boss I care, and that I can occasionally complete a craft project.



Could there be a cuter display of just cute stuff?


Kari is just about as fun and funny as I am. See here - her Halloween humour:
Furthermore, I want to steal her Ipod - not because I want an Ipod, but because she has loaded it up with some of the most awesome music:

A sample of the playlist during this post:

The Waltons "And The Farmers Hand"
James Brown "The Payback" (Get down! I need those hits! Hit meh! Heh!)
Blue Rodeo "Train"
Scanty Sandwich "Because of You"
Macy Gray "The Letter"
Valera Mirando Family "iAbur! Paisano"
Ted Hawkins "Sorry You're Sick"
Stretch "Why Did You Do It?"
Big Maybelle Smith "My Big Mistake"
Whiskeytown "Empty Baseball Park"
k.d. lang "Theme From The Valley of the Dolls"
Aimee Mann "Driving Sideways"
Supergrass "Mansize Rooster"



Why do I want you to see Winkel so much?

It's not so much Winkel, since so many of you can't come here really anyway. It's this - when you walk through a cute little neighbourhood, and you are enjoying it much like Nadine and I did Unionville last Saturday, you need to realize it won't stay that way if you don't actually buy something sometimes.

Leslieville is gentrifying, even to the point of attracting a Starbucks, which is provoking some discourse throughout the neighbourhood. But all of that is happening because small businesses moved in first, because rents are/were affordable and the neighbourhood has some "flavour". Then, people (like Steve and me!) buy homes in the area. Then, larger businesses are attracted. THEN rents for small businesses go up. Then, they move out and bigger stores move in. Then come the big boxes. Then cute neighbourhoods aren't so cute any longer. Remember the starfish story I trotted out for that other post? Well, I'm using it here in this context: Your purchase from a small, independent business is food on someone's table. It matters, to this one and that one and this one. It also keeps people independent, and it keeps neighbourhoods diverse and fun and funky.

I'm a big fan of the "Keep Austin Weird" movement. I'm a big fan of keeping places weird. I'm weird.

Think about buying more vintage/recycled gift items. Think about buying more small-press cards, or buying ephemera and making your own. Think about buying gifts from companies that run as non-profits like Atelier Scrap (Winkel sells their bags, and they're amazing), or items that have already stood the test of time and will last for more years to come. Actually - don't think about it -- do it, will you? This holiday season, I'm making a concerted effort to buy this way. It makes the holiday less crazy, and it makes the world a more fun place to live.


So, come by. I may be hanging around, visiting Kari and indulging in some sushi. But if I'm not here, chances are, Hubble, Kari's pug, will be. Most of Winkel's customers would rather see him than me anyway.

"Every item sold is a greenie in my belly."