Friday, November 17, 2017

A November Friday, Taking Stock

With only six weeks left in the year (Whoa!), especially since I'll be travelling most of the last month, this seems a good time for a bit of stock-taking, and I love the template Pip offers over at Meet Me at Mike's. It's a bit long, true (and I'm only going to do a third of it today, finish it over the weekend to post later), but the prompts are great -- playful, creative, and surprisingly effective at helping me get a perspective, take stock of where I'm at right now.

Pip offers her template of prompts as an easy cut-and-paste for digital stock-taking, but I've been spending so much time at the keypad of my MacBook Air that I decided to transcribe her verb participles into my sketchbook/journal. The Crayola SuperTips were still on the table where my granddaughter had left them last night, and I grabbed my fountain pen to fill in my responses.

I know my writing can be tricky to read, though, so I'll copy it out for you below.

Lately, I've been . . .
MAKING: Socks and mitts for Nola, and a toque for Paul. Stash-busters all!

COOKING: Batches of soup. Tomato-beef-vegetable was the latest and I made bread to go with. Turned some of the dough into cinnamon rolls.

READING: Just started my friend Cynthea Masson's The Flaw in the Stone. Also reading Sherman Alexie's You Don't Have To Say You Love Me and Jean-Paul Kauffmann's The Angel of the Left Bank. I know. . .

WANTING: Not much, to be honest, and that feels really good.

LOOKING: At lemon-coloured lilies in an orange-coloured pitcher on the windowsill . . .

PLAYING: My piano again, after finally arranging its first post-move tuning and conditioning. As always, I begin with Bach. . .

DECIDING: Whether to book the last segment of train tix -- from Tirano to Torino -- or just buy those at the station.

WISHING: My (youngest) daughter will decide to join the rest of us next summer, bringing the 5-year-old g'daughter along. . .

ENJOYING: The proximity we have here to two sets of grandkids, getting to know them in such easy circumstances.

WAITING: For the Daphne Odora blossoms to open -- I can see pink tips on the clusters of the still-closed buds

LIKING: The schedule Paul and I are developing of together and separate time.

WONDERING: How our Italian g'daughter Frankie is going to adjust to us being there, her mom being away. . .

LOVING: The feeling of being at home here -- it's taken a while, but I notice it more and more often lately.

And it's the weekend now -- ours is packed quite tightly with family, and I've got a friend coming from out of town, freshly back from hiking the Camino (from St. Jean Pied de Port through to Santiago). I'm very keen to catch up with her, looking forward to hearing about her adventures and misadventures on the trail.  What about you? Weekend plans? And perhaps you'd like to grab one or two or even three of those Prompt Verbs and tell us what you're Wondering or Making or Playing or . . . well, you get the idea. 

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

What I Wore for a Thought-Provoking Date Night


 Last Friday, we walked a couple of kilometres to the cinema for a showing of Ai WeiWei's magnificent documentary, Human Flow. Have any of you watched it yet? Devastating and beautiful and humbling and inspiring and despair-inducing all at once. So very human. I highly recommend it, but with the proviso that you make room -- emotional energy and ample time -- for the processing of what this massive global human migration, this ongoing displacement, means for all of us.

Sobering as I knew it would surely be, I proposed the movie as part of a date night, and although we'd be walking several kilometres, in the rain, through some rather edgy urban terrain, I thought I'd try to dress up a bit. Just because this guy's been around for over 43 years doesn't mean I should take him for granted, right?

 I never thought to snap a photo until I'd put my coat on and we were heading toward the door, so you can't see that I'm wearing a leopard-print cashmere V-neck with the very wide-legged, high-waisted black velvet pants I bought at the shop "& Other Stories" in Bordeaux last year. Turns out I haven't as many obvious occasions to wear them as I'd hoped, so I've decided I'd better make those occasions -- or rather make more occasions out of the everyday. . . Something like Alyson Walsh's Casual Glamour. Edited to Add: Alyson's post on That's Not My Age today is about the Casual Glamour of  wearing Velvet in the daytime. Talk about Synchronicity!
 To that end, I dressed down the drama of the pants' black velvet and swishy width by wearing them with my faithful, well-worn black leather moto jacket (Mackage, 7 years old, can't believe I ever gave a second thought to wearing one at my advanced age).

I don't think you can tell much about the shoes, in these photos, but readers, I even wore heels! Okay, they're 1.5 blocky heels on a rather sensible-but-funky pair of Think! shoes, but still. Heels!! I think that's the first time in months. . .

And finally, a cashmere scarf against the elements, some wild and greying curls for the rain and wind to mess around in, and we headed out into the night.

Still thinking about the film, days later; its powerful images will be with us for some time. We talked about it a bit over dinner at a spot we've been meaning to try, La Bodega on Main, a new version of the now-departed, long-loved Bodega on Howe. Snuggled into a corner noshing on delicious, savoury small plates, a contented Friday-night crowd buzzing all around us, good smells, much comfort, you can bet we felt our privilege, our good fortune in life.

Yes, the film did nudge us toward some research and some cheque-writing. Some of the despair will not be budged so easily, but we must carry on with lives where we are, doing the best we can, right? At the very least, for me, it feels important to witness, not to turn away from the suffering of others, and yet, I want/need to continue finding and making joy where I can in my daily life, nurturing relationships close at hand. Hence this post's odd mix of What I Wore for a Friday Night date and attention to a documentary about the plight of millions.

I won't pose questions today, but will let you respond to whatever might strike you. I do wonder if you've seen the film or if it's in your plans. And should you care to tell me how you reconcile your awareness of the big picture with the need to care for the small, or your awareness of the contrast between your good fortune in life and the desperate circumstances of so many, I'm listening . . . But if you just want to tell me what you wore on your last casual dinner-and-a-movie date with your partner or for a girls-night-out with your besties, that's good too! (Ha, I see that I've come very close to posing questions after all. Bossy'r'us! ;-) Sorry . . . )

I've come back to worry about appearing too glib about the human misery WeiWei's film considers, the wars and environmental changes that are causing these massive displacements. I do hope you recognize that what you see here -- the reconciliation I've arrived at -- might have taken a route much more troubled than fits the context of the blog.  . . . 


Monday, November 13, 2017

An Urban Condo Garden, Rooftop-Style, in November. . . .

 Shall we take a quick tour of my Fall Garden? The photos were taken over the past three or four weeks, as the days got shorter and colder -- that Japanese maple above was golden around the 20th of October, but almost bare-leaved now.

Similarly, the Physocarpus (opulifolius, Amber Jubilee), below, is now completely bare. It's one of the shrubs we added to the container plants left by the former owners. We chose the new shrubs with an eye to year-round interest. Besides its fall colour, Physocarpus' common name, Nine-bark, indicates its winter attraction, a textured, peeling bark that I like very much. We had a variety in our previous garden, so for me the continuity is another part of the appeal.
 Aren't the leaves pretty? Just a memory now, but they'll be back in the spring. . . .
 The other Japanese maple we were gifted by the previous owners has troubled us through late spring and summer. Gorgeous to watch leafing-out, and brilliant against the fall gloom, it was, however, spindly and bare in too many spots, and we wondered if it had been chosen very well given the lack of shade, the direct path of the sun across the terrace in the height of summer.  And those of you who are offended by the notion of "shovel-pruning" should look away now, but we did contemplate getting rid of this. Not so easy given that we're several storeys up, and the tree is ten feet high. . .

Instead, I've done some research, and I think the answer might be found in root-pruning. . . A rather daunting undertaking, to be honest. The pot is huge and heavy and getting soil out and back in is going to be a messy business. But Pater is willing to take this one on as a learning experience. We were all set to go for a fall attempt, just waiting for the leaves to fall, thinking that would make the process more manageable.

The knowledgeable fellow Pater spoke to at a local nursery the other day, though, says we've waited too long for a fall attempt -- it's true that we've already had frosty nights -- and would be better now to do the surgery in the spring. I'll admit that we're glad of the reprieve. . . .

Have any of you root-pruned a relatively large container shrub or tree? I'll admit that this is completely new territory for me, although we did have a few large-ish ornamental maples in containers in the last garden. The difference, I think was that we had much more room to find them a spot that closely suited their needs; the container-to-shrub ratio was much more generous, proportionally, so much more room before getting rootbound; and perhaps we just moved in time ;-)
 Meanwhile, the maple, quite glorious in October, is also nearly bare, its leaves writing splendid messages in scarlet calligraphy on the wooden bench nearby. . .


 We've enjoyed floral colour over the spring and summer in the garden, but I'm always drawn to leaf shape, texture, and colour as well.  I love everything about Corylopsis leaves -- love to sketch their charming patterns, those lines. . . .This one is Corylopsis Spicata 'Aurea' -- And doesn't this colour live up to the golden promise of its name? Another one that I photographed around October 20th, which is now completely bare. Very early in the spring, though, it will delight us with dainty yellow flowers. A true gem, one we've happily added to the garden we were left.
 We also added this Dogwood, Cornus sanguinea,  after admiring the stunning plantings at Van Dusen Gardens last February. Somewhere, I have the label that will remind me whether this is 'Midwinter Fire' or 'Winter Flame,' but whichever, we're looking forward to being warmed by its fiery stems. At the moment, it's still hanging on to most of its leaves, as is the snowberry across the way, while the apple tree (which gave us four little apples this first year!) just nearby still has a mix of green and yellow leaves.
 See those stems, already hinting at the heat their colour will build to as we move into winter. . .
 We bought several fuchsia plants late in the summer, wanting to extend the season's colour. Then we didn't get 'round to potting them on from the heavy plastic containers they were sold in, so had to water. And water. And water. . . .Finally, last week, Pater bought some new pots (we really like these somewhat pricier fiberglass ones, which are light enough to accommodate the challenges of rooftop gardening, but also look attractive).
 I like the way the fuchsia's growth pattern adds interest lower to the ground. Next year's garden plans include doing more with trailing plants, as much as with climbers. . . .
 A number of plants suffered with this year's abnormal weather patterns, especially when compounded by our travel absences as well, perhaps, as our learning curve with container gardening. One of the maples, particularly, suffered windburn and shrivelled on some of the hotter days (we turned it 'round, were more consistent and attentive in the watering, and it's recovered quite nicely).

This little wallflower was one I thought we might have lost. I was so grateful to have found it in the mix of plants left behind, because wallflowers were always a favourite of my dad's. But it was originally on the smaller balcony, much more exposed to sun and sheltered from any rainfall by the balcony above. By the time we came back from our spring travels, despite our daughter's best efforts, it looked better suited to the compost bin, to be honest. A few dried leaves left on some dessicated grey twigs. . .

But I moved it, and I cut it back, and I watered, and I watched. It's not a plant that likes to be over-watered, so I was attentive as well, trying to read what it was telling me. And I might have thought of Dad a bit and coaxed the plant to green up for him.

And look what it's up to now. . . In November!

Sweetest fragrance ever, and not just because I have to lean in so close to smell it that I can imagine Dad whispering in my ear. . .
Memories of summer. . . .

Whereas this is a more representative reflection (ha!) of today's weather, more in keeping with the season. . . . the fountain's been turned off, its basin catching the season's rainfall. . .


 I've been meaning to do this garden survey for weeks now, probably months tbh, and I still haven't told you how the grasses fared or showed you what's still very green (the laurel, of course, but also the clematis in its sheltered spot near the door). There are a few wistful blooms still climbing the hollyhock, the magnolia's fuzzy buds all sweetly revealed when its leaves fell almost simultaneously last week. We've been told we probably don't need to wrap the fig for winter; the hydrangea is moving seriously into its homely winter mode; and the herbaceous perennials have mostly been cut back and mulched. Next up, sarcococca's dainty fragrance and the heady aromatic blooms of the Daphne we're crossing our fingers for. . . .

Thank you so much for indulging me this Monday morning. I'm so buoyed by your presence out there, on the days when Blogging becomes a challenge. It's hard to understand why some folks skew toward nastiness, but I'm going to borrow these wise words from my friend Sue (Une Femme):

On A Personal Note

As a blogger, I’ve been lucky to not have received very many nasty comments over the years. I work hard to create and maintain a positive, upbeat space here, and I think that tends to discourage outright rudeness. I truly appreciate that you take the time to share your comments and welcome open discussion. That includes dissenting opinions and constructive feedback. And I try to give people the benefit of the doubt when assessing the intent behind negative remarks. But snotty, disparaging, uncivil, and antagonistic comments will be deleted. Full stop. Don’t have time for that.

Most of you are wonderful, supportive, interesting, generous readers, and I am enriched by the community we've built here. I'm not at all averse to constructive criticism (and see no reason why offering such couldn't be done with kindness), but bullying and meanness aren't my cup of tea.

Enough of that. Now to sit back and enjoy your chat about Mondays, gardens, November . . . all the good stuff. Bring it on!

Friday, November 10, 2017

Train Travel and Travel Journalling

Two Fridays ago, I listed Five Things and then added a sixth when realized I'd forgotten the Train Ticket I'd intended as #1! I said I'd tell you more about it soon, and it seems that this is as soon as it gets.

The train ticket represents part of my travel from Rome back to Paris, after Pater catches his flight home from The Eternal City a few days earlier. It's a questionable itinerary for those of you whose time is tight when travelling, but I've come to love the pace of train travel, and I'm also trying to exercise my solo-traveler muscles in relatively comfortable circumstances.

We'll be flying into Paris, not only because it's one of the few direct, non-stop European flight destinations from Vancouver, but also because managing jet-lag and travel fatigue in a city we know and love is a very good kind of self-care. We only have a day there together before we take the train to Switzerland, and then through the Alps, then from Turin to Rome.

Last year, as we checked out of our Paris hotel, the friendly receptionist offered to call us a car to the  airport. "No, no," we thanked her, "we're taking the train."
"To Venice?" Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. "But how long is that? 12 hours?"

Yes, yes it was. But 12 hours of comfortable seats, wonderful scenery, ample luggage space, and with the added advantage that we could show up at the station only fifteen or twenty minutes before our departure time, rather than the ninety minutes minimum required at an airport. Nor would we have to submit to security screening, with all that means about packing of liquids and so on. 

We didn't bother pointing all this out to the hotel receptionist, who'd flown to Venice just the previous fall for her honeymoon and loved it.  She readily concededed, though, that train travel would allow us to see more of the countryside and that it was probably less stressful. She even agreed that, given how little luggage we had, walking to Gare de Lyon from our hotel in the 6ème wasn't so outlandish, although she definitely would have taken the Métro, if not a cab.

We're staying at that same hotel next month, but they're getting used to our foibles by now. Rather than fly to Rome, as I've mentioned earlier, we'll wend our way by train to Zurich, then ride the Bernina Express through the Swiss Alps to Turin, and thence to Rome. Time to knit a sock, read a book, walk through the carriages for some people-watching, back to our relatively comfortable seats to gaze happily out the windows. . . .

And I write, on the train sometimes, in my travel journal. Even try 30-second sketches of the scenery flashing by, or slightly longer ones if we stop for a minute or two at a station.  Here's my transciption of an entry from this past spring. .



June 1st, 2017, 8:53
And we're on the train speeding from Ljubljana (we left at 8:25 a.m.) for Zagreb. I've been trying to snap train-window photos to capture impressions but maybe I should just try to write them.

So much green -- will it all be dry soon, in this heat? Hilly, even mountainous and occasionally we dive into a tunnel's deep shade. Generally, though, we're moving in a trough and either side of us, houses romp down the flanks with -- always! -- vegetable patches laid out in the best spot, so there's a higgledy-piggledy to the neat order. Sometimes the garden beds are at odd angles to each other, but the rows themselves are even, well-spaced, industriously equipped with supporting poles, sometimes covered with bird-deterring net. Already, the homeowners are out watering and weeding and harvesting lettuces or digging up new potatoes. Reminds me of Portugal where domestic food production was also still a continuation of an age-old, necessary tradition, not an earnestly recovered one taken on as a hobby or ideology.

Crooked -- and skinny! -- telephone poles. Practical, and why not? but they amuse me, so used to our huge, thick, impeccably straight ones.

Also right along the tracks, large plants for mining and quarrying. The last one we passed was right beside a small train station -- at the side of the road, perhaps a hundred, perhaps more, cars parallel parked. Workers' cars, I'd guess, unless there's some kind of park-and-ride commuter train, which I rather doubt.

So many wildflowers -- deep meadows waiting to be moved for hay? Or will they bring cows or sheep to graze?


So there you have part of my argument for train travel, in a post that travels backward to last June and forward to a similar journey next month. Not everyone's notion of how best to spend travel time, and it's not what we would always choose either (we flew from Zagreb back to Paris in June, for example, not willing to take the time required to journey back by train).

What about you? Have you travelled much by train? Would you? Or are you quite jealous of your time when travelling and not willing to spend it sitting still, however much scenery might be whizzing by?

And what have you planned for the weekend? We're hosting a Family Brunch here on Sunday and we have a nearly-Nine coming for a sleepover tomorrow. I've started a knitting project for her, a collaborative approach I hope to tell you more about next week. For now, I'm handing the mic to you -- comments always welcome, below. 

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Cashmere Mending: Patchwork, Sashiko, and a Bit of Play

 A week or two ago I posted this image on Instagram: a patch I'd sashiko'd over a hole in a cashmere sweater, and I had a request to explain the process here on the blog. (Oh, and I should explain the terminology, as I understand it. Sashiko is the stitching technique, and Bora is the use of it to mend and the overall process, and perhaps also a philosophy, of mending garments, re-using fabric, right down to the last scraps.)

Given that I've only taken one class in sashiko, I'm mostly going to direct you elsewhere for specific instructions and materials, but the gist is pretty straightforward for anyone who can wield scissors, thread, and needle.

Before taking that class with my daughter back in May, I'd seen and been intrigued by many examples of the technique used to mend denim, and I'd studied posts such as this one and this one, which take you step by step through the process (and should you need more inspiration, Holy Pinterest, Batman!

But I hadn't really envisioned being able to mend sweaters -- knit rather than woven garments -- this way until our instructor suggested the possibility.  I tried it first with a moth-ravaged cashmere (Bompard, sigh. . . ) cardigan. Nothing to lose, after all, with holes chomped all over, so I just set to with my sashiko needle and thread and I played. . . .

 I had an old purple cashmere scarf that had similarly been enjoyed by creepy-crawlies and I used that as a source for patches. There's no intention, with bora mending, to hide the patch itself. This is nothing like "invisible mending," but rather there's an appreciation for what emerges, over time and use, through wear, through life even, through process. . . . That gave me all kinds of permission, right?
 I simply cut a patch from the cashmere scarf, of the shape and size I wanted. I didn't worry about hemming, as the scarf had been washed a few times; the edges of the patch won't likely fray. And then I simply threaded my sashiko needle with sashiko thread and had some fun. Truly, for a sweater-mending project, I would use regular embroidery needle and floss, and I'm probably going to try some embroidery with sock yarn (a fine, wool yarn). You might worry about the floss colour running or about whether whichever thread or yarn you use responds differently to washing than the cashmere fabric of your sweater -- But personally I always hand-wash my cashmere and block it carefully to dry, so I'm not concerned. . . And, after all, the sweater was already lost to those dastardly moths anyway. . .
But back to the exterior patch on the grey sweater. This one really hurt, not only because I only bought the sweater (Bompard again) in Paris three or four years ago -- it's practically new! -- but also because I can't blame the moths for the damage -- this hole was ripped by my belt buckle!
 I'd accepted the demotion of the pullover from Simple Polished to Relaxed-Sloppy, but now I saw that it might get bumped up at least to Boho-Street, something Lisa's Sturdy Gal might wear gardening or running to pick up milk, but that her Artsy Cousin might throw atop a gorgeous long skirt or velvet palazzo pants for a gallery opening. . . .Yeah, that last might be a stretch, but I can dream, right?
I'm still dreaming, actually. Dreaming about words I might embroider up one side of the neckline's V, perhaps. . . . And will I, or won't I, add another patch (or two) to blanace the odd placement of this one? I've been contemplating for weeks this brilliant idea for upscaling a thrifted sweater, and I have a canvas to work on now, a cashmere canvas or two. Um, thank you moths?

Any of you tried any sashiko or bora mending? Or just the kind of mending our mothers or grandmothers taught us? At least, mine did -- did yours as well? Would you wear something that's visibly mended or would you be uncomfortable with the attention that might draw? (There are class implications here as well, aren't there?  It's a luxury for me really, to be able to flaunt a visibly mended garment in a way that my grandmother could never have enjoyed, poverty too constant a threat in the first half of her life. . . . And some of you had mothers and grandmothers who never needed to mend, who could afford to have someone else do that for them.) And, of course, some of us are simply not interested in any needlework, whether practical or creative, nor do we have the time, especially since garments can be so affordably replaced these days. . .

You know the drill: Comments below, or questions, welcome, as always. 

Monday, November 6, 2017

City Life, with a bit of Over-60 Style

Just quickly, because apparently we have only one more day of these gorgeously crisp blue skies, November temps hovering nicely at freezing after teasing us with a sprinkle of snowflakes Saturday (and look at the mountains already accumulating snowpack over on the North Shore, behind the Cirque du Soleil tent). Tomorrow comes the rain, again, and then I'll be happy enough to stay home and write. For today, I want to be out and about again. . . .
So all I have for you this Monday morning are some photos and a quick What We Did report from the weekend -- have you ever seen a Cirque du Soleil show? I'm not sure why we never thought it would be our thing, but that well-dressed fellow above, snapped from behind in Sunday's sunshine, surprised me with tix to Kurios, and it's definitely all that. You should go!

And tit for tat, I suppose . . . when he realized I'd taken a snap of him, he decided he'd better return the favour. I always demur, but I have to admit I rather like these shots. Especially interesting to see how my hair colour appears to change depending on what side the light's hitting -- it's really greying up quickly now, and I'm liking the colour, the curl, the length.
Blundstones, M0851 bag, Vince jeans, new black (Fleurette, 50% off!!) coat, and pink cashmere (Club Monaco) scarf I've had for years. Warmed up enough in the sunshine that I've tucked my leopard-trimmed, black leather gloves in my pocket, so you can't see them. I love having Paul's photo-taking shadow in this hot. . .

That's all for now, although you might catch me posting more on Instagram (which is where I posted a few shots of the #MeToo rally we saw my sister speak at on Saturday morning). What are you up to as the week begins?

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Saturday Report: City Life, Vancouver Style. . .




I uploaded these photos early Thursday, planning to write the text the next morning before our visiting family woke.  No time for a Five Things Friday, but I thought I could manage a quick What I Wore featuring my version of a Fall Outfit, Over-60 Street Casual. Those are my Vince jeans --I'm loving the comfort and neat line of the high waist, their just-funky-enough sturdy denim, the precise width of legs, that cropped raw edge. I know very well they're not conventionally flattering, but from the inside out, I feel as if they say something about me that I'm pretty happy to own, if that makes sense. . . And I'm quite confident that this will continue to be the case for the next few years, which is important to me. . . .

Ditto my new shoes, the MOMA laceless oxfords you've seen here before. And the shirt is J.Crew, silk, which I've had for over four years (see how well it's earned its keep: I posted outfits with it here and here)
For my Friday morning post, I had also uploaded photos of my just-completed poncho.
For interested knitters, the pattern is Michelle Wang's Vale poncho.  (I haven't uploaded this project to Ravelry yet, but will do soon.)
I'd even had Pater snap one as we walked to Skytrain. . . .
And I was going to write all this yesterday morning, early, and post as I usually do on a Friday.

But a Thursday evening email from Creative Mornings Vancouver scrambled those plans, advising that my fingers-crossed registration on the waitlist for a Friday morning event featuring Shoe Designer John Fluevog had scored me a last-minute seat. The breakfast event has an 8:30 a.m. start, so I'm afraid I abandoned all of you in favour of

And I'm sorry to report that . . . it was absolutely worth it!!
Besides the talk itself -- lively and inspiring -- was the chance to mingle a bit beforehand (reassuring to find I can still do the solo social thing in a big new room), and to do that mingling in a creative (and, let's be honest) younger crowd than I've had a chance to mix with much since I've left the university (I love my age peers, yes I do, but I also value diversity and as Eleonore points out in the comments here, it can be harder to come by post-retirement).

After the talk, we mixed it up a bit in the audience in some directed discussion (first in twos, then fours, then eights -- I've had my students do this often enough; fun to be on the other side).
Another major bonus was re-connecting with a friend I haven't seen for a few months. A friend who suggested we go for coffee after and introduced me to a new bakery-café.
You wouldn't have begrudged me this, right?
Purebread Bakery, on West Hastings, Gastown, Vancouver, if you're ever looking for Delicious, a few blocks from downtown. . . .You're welcome. . . .
I got home from that outing feeling so positive about City Life and about making social connections here, gradually. . . . And I was just in time to send a young couple out for lunch without their Two. She and I played, napped, and then her parents popped back, grabbed their bags and their Little and headed off to their ferry. In their wake, the condo feels quite blissfully quiet and spacious, the teeny temptation to melancholy having been banished by the knowledge that we're really not so far apart at all. . . .

So instead of the usual Friday post, I give you a Stretched-out-on-Saturday post. . . . Now it's time for the gym, unless I decide to breakfast first (those photos of the baking have made me a bit hungry!).
What have you lined up for the weekend? And I'd love to know if you have a Creative Mornings chapter in your city and especially if you've ever attended an event. Or anything similar, just to try something new. . . 
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