Family Tree Fridays

I'm going to start something new, "Family Tree Fridays". I was very actively involved in piecing together the family tree. I don't think I've really added that much, but I had a good base to start with from all directions. One side has been traced back as far as 800 AD. Yes, no mistake. There is not a one missing in front of that 8. Don't worry, I won't feature every Viking ever listed on that scroll of antiquity. What I've decided to do is write about and feature one person in the tree. One story from the tree. This could be current and I'm open to suggestions from relatives who decide to click on me on Fridays.

So, here we go. First stab at this. Meet Pickles. His picture is sitting in my inbox right now and he was great uncle on my paternal side. My dad's uncle. My grandfather's youngest brother. He died over Germany during WWII as his plane was shot down by the Germans (was that obvious?). Every picture of him looks different and this one looks like none of the others. This was his Miner's card that I suppose would get him into the mines. It looks more like a prison card if you ask me. I can't identify really anyone in my family that looks like him. I think I've seen my dad with that squint. But more likely due to his need of bifocals.

Pickles' age is a little unclear on this certificate. He must have been 21 in 1937, not 1940. He died in 1942 at the age of 27. He made 14 operational flights as a Flight Sargent with the Royal Canadian Air Force between March and November of 1942. Two streets that I know of were named after him. In fact I lived on one of them and went to a few open houses on the one in Transcona. When we moved onto that street bearing my very own last name, it made for nice town gossip. "Oh, look they move onto the street and then they rename it after them!" Yeah, the timing wasn't so great for either our move or the renaming of streets after war heroes. I hear that Pickles was a great hockey player and I'm sure he would have enjoyed to live out his life with a wife, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. His name has been tampered into cenotaphs in Sioux Lookout, Transcona and I hear even Togo. It would have been nice to have known him.

signed, the willow

The Crafty Botanist

University to me was mostly about learning how to learn, learning about slime-buckets and that life isn't fair outside the walls of my parents' house. My history teacher in high school always said "Fair is for Fairies". I understand that he was actually right. But it took me about 20 years to figure it out AND admit it. So, I sit here with a Science degree in Botany. So I take my old textbooks out and sketch flowers, put their botanical name or their botanical formula beside them and voila, art!

that's all I have for today, my head is made from glue still.

signed, the willow

I give in

The weather is cold. We've done our outings for the day. *Mila* was cooperative at school, so we rented a Barbie movie for her, popped some popcorn and cuddled up next to 55" of Sony and watched the "Princess & the Pauper". My bloodstream is full of coffee and sinus medication. I'm trying my best to not be sick, but I give in. I just can't fight it any more. I need a blankie, a movie, warm cup of tea and a big fat dog curled up on my feet. I've rented "Beowulf" for *Steve* and "Across the Universe" for me. I doubt I'll get to watch it before I have to watch Barbie trade places with Erica while *Mila* dances in front of the tv another 48 times. Whatever.

signed the willow

Stop Stop Stop it with the snow!

I am Canadian so I therefore blog about the weather. I am so sick of shoveling snow and I remind myself that I do have very little to shovel and if we sell our house and get one with a bigger driveway that sits close to the GO station....so we'd never really drive and never really even need a driveway. Hmm?

We attempted to get sliding down a slope today. But *Steve* has decided that the toboggan would make a lovely shelf in the garage and placed it 15 feet in the air above the garage door. I'd need to get a stool out there to get the step ladder down. Then, after I get the step ladder down and step up to the peak of that I would have to get the extension ladder down. All this while I am precariously balanced. Did I mention that I have the klutz gene? It's my brother that has the boring gene (it runs on the male side thankfully). So now I'd have the extension ladder down and then I'd have to extend it. Where I would run into many problems. Finally I could climb up it and get all the wood down that is on top of the toboggan and pass it to the four year old girl. Wait. Why are we using a toboggan to shelf some wood? And why are we storing wood? Are we building things? Do we have power tools to build things? I guess we do.

signed, the willow

He met the Walrus

Last night I fell asleep before the end of the Academy Awards. I was able to record the Bravo!FACT presentation of "I Met The Walrus" on CTV. This short animated film was interesting as it was animation set to the interview with John Lennon that Jerry Levitan, a 14 year old boy at the time, had recorded in 1969. It was timeless, creative and just amazing. Jerry was Canadian and 14 when he snuck into the Toronto hotel where John & Yoko were staying and recorded an interview with John on a reel-to-reel tape. Can you imagine? Reel to Reel? If I even mentioned that to my 4 year old, she'd say "Huh? Can I have a chocolate now?". He lugged that thing in there with ease I bet. Eager to interview John Lennon, who would speak of peace and in a very contemporary manner that we, the people, are responsible for creating peace. Not the government. We elected them after all. You could have taken that conversation and related it to 2008. Setting this interview to animation was genius. It made perfect sense and 20 years from now, or 30, when *Mila* is interested in it, it will be timeless then again. But, she won't know who John Lennon is. I remember when he died and I thought he was a politician spelled Lenin, not a Beatle spelled Lennon. Then again, I was pretty sure that Casey and Finnegan did live in that treehouse out behind Mr. Dressup's house.

signed, the willow

I bowled with a monkey

For *Mila's* birthday we decided to have a little bowling rendezvous. I was tired of going to the dollar store and the candy store to pick out the traditional loot bag stuff. In fact, you know it's a sad world when the loot bags come ready made. First pinatas, then loot bags. What's next frozen grilled cheese? Yes, there is such a thing. So I chose to try out my new screen printing kit and make the kids some t-shirts. Here's the screen being prepped. And here is the t-shirt for *Mila*. Not fabulous. But Hey! I like my monkey. He's sort of pretty, sort of cute. One is for a boy, so I couldn't get all girly with them. I am now ready to screen print more and more every week! So let's get it going. What should I design and create next? Car full of Larrys?

"Look, Dog! Get off the couch! Note the Rubbermaid container beside you? Why are you lying on top of the pillows? Why? Why do you drive me crazy with your hairy butt?"

signed, the willow

Style kitten

*Mila* asked us to take her to the salon for a haircut yesterday. So we did. Who wouldn't? We took her to a place in the mall I had been before and luckily after *Steve* refused the male 60 year old to cut her hair, they gave her a 20-something mom who stood not much taller than *Mila* and made the best companion for her haircut. Especially for the first time outside of sitting on the toilet seat while I cut it and mom-comb and mom-cut and mom-complain. Remember your mother combing your hair? Why was it always rougher than anyone else would do it? I asked *Mila* how the haircut went, as *Steve* stood with her and I couldn't see from where I sat. *Mila* answered "She was really nice and she combed my hair nice not like you mom!" See! Now I have joined the ranks of rough-comb-moms. Uggh. One day you're a teenager and the next day you wake up and you are combing your kid's hair roughly.

signed, the willow

My hallway ghost

Ok, *Steve* is probably still peeing his pants thinking about my description of what haunts me. When I am standing by the sink, looking in the bathroom mirror, I see shadows moving behind me. It spooks me out and *Steve* says its nothing because he doesn't have a keen sense of spookiness like I do. Yesterday, I asked him to just listen to my description of this spirit. Don't judge, just listen. So I described these shadows that zoom behind me and how I just get the sense that they remind me of someone....Danny Devito.

Yes, I am haunted by something like a 'Danny Devito' in the hallway and not only am I the laughing stock of the house, I am now the laughing stock of the internet. I think if it were a 'Christopher Walken' or a 'Bela Lugosi' *Steve* might take me serious. But because I chose to describe my "ghost" as 'Danny Devito-like' it is only slightly funny and slightly creepy.

signed, the willow

Dreamland

Now if this not the most perfect winter scene, I don't know what is. This was my parents' driveway last week. Thanks Gram for the pictures. I'm guessing it was -30 degrees Celsius that day?

signed, the willow

My head is made from glue and I have coconuts in my closet

Just what I needed. A coconut bra for my daughter and a grass skirt. There are remains from this hay skirt from Hawaii (made in Indonesia) all over the house. My head is made from glue due to another germ infestation.

Here is what I'd wish for today: A cozy warm blanket to curl up under while I watched a sappy movie with Brad Pitt, a warm dog by my feet, a husband who was home to take his little girl out for some afternoon fun, all this while I drank a hot steamy cup of tea.

Instead, this is the reality: my blanket shrunk in the wash and doesn't cover my feet, my dog has a gimpy leg and is curled up with *Mila* and not me, my tea is luke warm and the movie *Mila* chose for us this afternoon is 'Hercules' and sadly, there is no Brad Pitt in it (although they did mention Achilles).

signed, the willow

It takes the dimmest hours to see the light

*Mila* is beside me in the office drawing pictures at her desk. She's unbelievably artistic and I don't just say that because I am her genetic mother. She really is. She's not yet 4 (2 weeks to go today) and look at this picture. She drew herself outside of her house waving at everyone. This was before I taught her to do the friendly wave that all small town folk know well. Something that I genuinely miss about living in a larger centre. I miss driving downtown and having people wave at you. It's like they really care. "Hey! There's Miss Willow! I went to school with her. I think I'll wave hello." There were/are a few wackos in my hometown that would just wave at people, like every people person. If you didn't wave back they would drive around in their half-ton trucks and wave furiously at you until you waved back and if you still refused to wave, they would peel out and give you the middle finger for your viewing pleasure. These type of people belong in the Psych Ward and should not be sucking power from the local chicken joint's commissary.

We started our day off not to well and I think that sometimes it is that dimness or darkness that really lets the light shine in. *Mila* is really a wonderful little girl and I let her moodiness and pouts get the better of me. Actually I let the screaming, crying, kicking and punching get the better of me. I was like her too. I was worse than her. I threw my ski boot through a window when it slid off the back of my skinny ankles. No footwear was ever comfortable on me. Skates too were thrown. I survived (and no longer have skinny ankles) and am ashamed of a lot, or all, of the fits I had. My parents still seem to love me and have even sent mysterious money in the mail for me when I needed it for many, many years. Relatively speaking, she's not that bad. I blame myself for everything that goes wrong in a single 24-hour period. No parent is perfect and no day is perfect. We can only make the best of what we are given. And when in doubt, go to IKEA let your vegetarian child stuff herself with hot dogs and buy items that you won't remember when you get home from the shopping amnesia that you suffer from. When your husband asks your daughter over the phone, "What did mom get at IKEA" be sure to prompt your daughter to reply "a TULLSTA and a JARPEN". This only works if your husband is not of Swedish descent.

signed, the willow

The theory of 3 clicks

If you click around enough on the internet and do the least amount of typing your lazy fingers can possibly handle, where do you end up? I ended up here today. Three clicks from whence I began.

*Steve* tells me that the company he works for set up their new website so that everything is only three clicks away. Every day, I find myself clicking 3 clicks from where I began and that's where I lose myself. I stop, look at the pictures, enjoy the scenery. Maybe even read a little.

Where will you end up today if I am your click number one? Or your click number two? I hope I'm your click number three! Please let me be your click number three? So you can read about my vegetarian plastic kitties and how they drink beet juice.

See his red nose? Beet juice!

signed the willow

Dreams

Right now, my dad and my husband are rolling their eyes. *Steve*, the husband of mine, claims that he has a wonky eye since he was a kid and had a bad cold and his eyes "fell asleep and never woke up". I'm guessing that the gypsies must have nabbed him and cast a spell on him.

My dreams from last night were a mixture of my life in all sorts of textures, colours and shapes. There were people from my past and the other half of my leg, aka *Mila*, is in almost all of my dreams. I have a recurring dream that I haven't had for quite a while and the other day *Mila* mentioned some dream of hers that was quite similar to it. Rooms connect without hallways. It has the dank, dark emptiness of a horror-filled old manor house, dormitory, or hospital. The most vivid part of the dream every time is going from one room to another and finding "the room". This is the room you know you have to enter (to get out of the maze of rooms?). I usually am forced by someone to sleep in this room. As I settle into the room, of course unsettled an old woman appears and her evil presence is over-whelming. I can suppress all sorts of things in my dreams. But when this old woman appears, she cannot be suppressed by me. She has come for me and she is the ultimate in evil. My mom has a very similar dream. Could we inherit a thought pattern or a memory? Does *Mila* now have this dream too? I have yet to share my dream with her for fear that my dreams and ideas will become hers.

I had another cat to post today....but the add image feature is not working for me. Nor is the spell-check!

signed, the willow

Did I mention?

Did I mention that I have reached 100 entries? Yep. That was then...and this is now.

And this is yet another sickly created flourescent orange cat. Did these people think they were funny when they made these cats? My mom thought that I or *Mila* (the 3.98 year old) was doctoring them up with paint, jiffy markers and crayons. No! We did not alter these cats in any way, shape or form. They are pure and simple from the factory that makes green flamingos and purple toucans. We have that bird collection as well. These are the toys that *Mila* chooses to have in the bath with her. If she turns out to be a weird, twisted soul I am blaming these cats!

We have booked a bowling lane or two and some pizzas to be on the agenda for the big 4th Birthday Bash. It should be exciting. *Steve* is dictating what he wants to get her. Hungry Hippos. C'mon! I spend years of my life grooming her to be an A+ honour student and be off to Western at the age of 16 and you are going to strip it all away by allowing her to having Hungry Hippos???!! "She has talked about it so much" claims *Steve*. Yeah and she also talks "so much" about how cows cause global warming and so does my brother's dog. Do we need to get Bessie and a golden retriever now too?

Changing the subject once more. Here is the place I now call my home.

signed, the willow

What I make and never finish

One more item I will not finish. This I will finish, it's its partner that won't be finished. This is *Mila's* pinata for her birthday. She asked me for a parrot pinata (Parrot?Huh?Why a parrot?Okay???) and I just started this black and white theme.

signed, the willow

Evil Cats from China Part Deux

See the first installment of plastic cat Hell here. Don't get me wrong, I do not despise the Chinese. I just don't think the guy who designed these plastic dollar store cats is trying to fool small children into thinking cats comin in lime green and have their legs attached backwards (see the first installment link above).

signed, the willow

Flowers for my closet

IKEA posting again. I was fortunate enough to be "allowed" to go inside there once again. Despite the fact that *Steve* led us through backwards against the grain of the errors. Breaking IKEA Rule #1. These lovely little metal additions are my latest bouquet for my closet/office. Cute and cheap. There are some shorty ones that *Mila* stashed in her room somewhere. Now, *Steve*....can I please go back and get this, that and the other thing?

signed, the willow

Proof that we spend too much time talking about technology

There was probably a time in my life where I thought a "Blackberry" was sold in the grocery store beside the raspberries. In my parent's age, I'm sure they picked them or knew someone who did pick them. Reaching back a little further, my grandmothers probably just learned of this fruit called a blackberry later in life and would never understand what this is all about.

*Mila* sends her Grampa an email from her "Blackberry". Yes. I know! It is a calculator. But don't you find it unusual that she can send an email from her "Blackberry", she's not yet 4 and my cell phone is in her toybox (Because I live in the dark ages when it comes to mobile technology, I still need to see phone cords to believe that it is actually a real phone call.)

signed, the willow

Emma's last legs

Today I made about 15 to 20 gallons of "Nuts & Bolts" mix. You know with nuts, cereal, popcorn, spices, pretzels etc. I think I should go back to IKEA and get another XL jar to host this mix. What was I thinking?

Emma needs more surgery. She's also in need of some Botox in her belly too. signed, the willow

Reasons why I need to go to IKEA today

Reasons why I need to go to IKEA today

1. I have a coupon for $20 that I need to use by March 1st. We bought our Christmas tree at IKEA this year and received a coupon of equivalent value. Plus IKEA donates a portion of their profits to Tree Canada. Everyone wins! Especially me. I will now be allowed to go to IKEA before March as a result. Thank you to the marketing genius at IKEA who dreamed this one up.

2. I have become accustomed to warm 1% milk in my coffee and need something to froth it with. Since my last frother was used to make bubbles for Polly Pocket and her pals in their hot tub. I think it was her monkeys that demanded "MORE! MORE! OOO-OOO-AA-AA". See! Now I need a new frother.

3. *Steve* wants a mattress pad for our bed.

4. I need a bag of IKEA coffee.

5. The greyish white stain that they carry at IKEA is fabulous.

6. I could do a kitchen makeover and get new handles or new cabinets and appliances.

7. *Mila* likes to play in the kids' section.

8. I conveniently chipped a plate last night.

9. *Mila* needs a new bed.

10. My mom is coming to visit and so I'll need to freshen up our guest supplies.

11. Fortino's is conveniently located next door and I can get my groceries and some yummy coffee syrup.

12. I can walk the aisles and pretend I live there like Mark Malkoff does.

13. *Mila* and I have been bored and house bound for part of the week, so we are at each other's throat and thus need to go shopping to alleviate all stress. Yoga is not working.

signed, the willow

My dog is talking, Gorillas are selling their art and my Voodoo is not working

This is *Mila's* pepper plant. We germinated some seeds and these 2 pepper seeds are all that are growing thus far. I'm not sure why we thought we'd be able to grow Asian apple pears from seed and it was hard explaining to *Mila* that we would not be picking apple pears off of our tree this summer unless Dad goes to the local nursery and picks up a full grown tree. Wonder how long until my black thumb squashes this. I have one plant in the house, bamboo sticks. They do well until I tamper with their very existence. Just changing the water becomes a science experiment for me. Yes, I have a B.Sc. in Botany. Like Ross Geller once said, "The only person more boring than a Paleontologist is a Botanist". I'll stick to my eco-girl-roots.


As for my voodoo, it's not working. It never usually takes THIS long. Maybe, it needs a little extra time this kick around to get the ball rolling.


My dreams are prophetic this week. I dream of someone and they call. I dreamt of 6 telemarketers and every single one called us. One was kind enough to call us at 10:39 pm and block their call. That was nice of them. It allowed me the opportunity to pick up the phone and scream at them.


Koko the Gorilla is still alive and selling her art. I can't get around to making anything to sell on Etsy, but Koko the Gorilla can? Then again, I don't have anyone picking up my poop for me in my cage. I love the story of Koko.


*Mila* took a book out for the library (actually, I picked it) on the Horses of Sable Island. It was a touching story about how some kids across Canada rescued these horses from becoming dog food.


I had the best of intentions of blogging yesterday and couldn't log on. Early in the morning I like to read dooce.com and have a coffee. I couldn't get on to her site for some reason and left it until late in the afternoon. All day I had been thinking about blogging about *Mila's* movies Cinderella 2 & Cinderella 3, since I had been sorting her movies alphabetically. I was thinking about how many bloody times we have to see Cinderella try on the shoe and get married? I have yet to see Cinderella 2, because I thought that Cinderella 3 would fill me in and Cinderella would get preggers and have a royal baby blessed by the fairy Godmother. But oh no. I click onto this. How does Heather Armstrong read my mind? The first time this happened, I laughed like this "Oh how cute, she's thinking the same as me". The second time, I sort of thought that it was a coincidence that we have the same thought patterns at the same time. Then the third time I believed it was weird. Now, I'm convinced that I have a tuner inside my head and I really am part of a very large experiment conducted by the government of Greenland. I just hope that this has something to do with Global Warming.

signed, the willow

The Haunted Barbie Car

For Christmas this year, *Mila* was lucky enough to receive a remote controlled pink Barbie Corvette. I picked it up for her and her Dad and signed Gramma's name to it. But the darn thing is possessed. It doesn't matter which level of the house we are on, which room. This thing has a mind of its own and drives erratically around the house. Tonight there was a massive freak attack when it wouldn't stop pouncing on the Barbie shoe display case! Back and forth it went 50 times. All the time *Mila* is hunting for the remote control, the dog is being blamed for sleeping on it while pinning her ears back to her skull. Not one of us was touching the remote as the car drove itself. That's not the only thing that reacts on batteries all by itself here, the toy cash register scans items in the middle of the night and sends me into a frenzy. Fortunately, Barbie put an off switch on her Corvette!

signed, the willow (again)

Not much too say other than this

Ok, there are traffic lights, a bank, and a home improvement store in the picture above. I cannot make fun of living in Southern Ontario today. Where are those 17 snow plows that were chasing after that snowflake early last week? This is proof that we do, in fact, live in the same country as those in Northern Ontario. Ahem, I emphasize the "NORTH" in Northern Ontario. This would not be Bracebridge or any other destination within a 2 hour radius of Toronto. I "love" when the media show a map of the province of Ontario and it is cut off just below the 49th parallel and they say "the whole province is under a storm watch". Funny. We just drove from one corner of the province to the other this summer and it took 3 days (with a three year old). But what they showed us on the map, we drove in an afternoon and I tell you no lie!

signed, the willow

When I was your age...

"That's right, *Mila*, when I was your age, look what we considered to be a good time. Your uncle and I actually had this game and we played it for hours. It hooked up to our tv too. Can you imagine that?"

"You know that pink Barbie dress downstairs that you play with? Well here it is and I've just dated myself now too."

My all time favourite to think about was the Bionic Woman doll. I didn't have the Fembot doll and I certainly don't remember playing with my cousins talking like this. They had the "6 million dollar man" doll. And we think TV is violent now? This was all that was on TV in the 70s!

signed, the willow

The Bloggers and their Bloggies

Heather B. Armstrong (aka dooce) is busy celebrating her daughter's fourth birthday (Which I will be doing next month + 1 day for my own daughter, not dooce's. She just had her's. Pay attention!), and then she's going to be busy with her blog awards, the Bloggies.

Yeah. Yup. Then there is me and my boring life. Let's see, we had snow. Lots of snow. Lots of snow for the 'banana belt' which equates to snowmen the size of small teddy bears and sliding on grass with patches of white. Ok, I'm exaggerating again. We got an hour of sliding in yesterday at La Salle Park and about 10 minutes in today. I later received my award/reward which was a Timmy's coffee. There is a dog snoring and twitching, yelping and crying at my feet. Next will come my non-blogging husband who has delegated me to delete his blog. "Delete your own damn blog!" I guess that's the end of his sentimental gestures blog and his sentimental gestures. I'd say "Make your own damn dinner!", but that's too fifties. "Delete your own damn blog!" fits the 21st century well.

Artifacts

When my parents closed their grocery store, they tore down a wall or two. Behind a wall was an old cooler door (?) that would have been used maybe as an ice box to store sawdust and ice to keep meat or perishables cold. These pictures display the hardware that held the door on tight for over 50 years. They're framed in these shadow boxes on my living room wall.

I don't know that my Dad's hands managed to open that door, but I can imagine that my grandfather filled that ice box as a young man. He was sent to my home town from Winnipeg, a 500km trek to work at the age of 13 or 14. For a while he worked for Mr. Davis at the grocery store that he later inherited. He also found himself working the gold mines at Pickle Crow at the age of 15. Far cry from what a teenager would endure now. I'm sure when *Mila* turns 15, she'll be more concerned about an iPhone or getting an upgrade from her Blue Ray DVD player in her room. She'll never have to worry about crawling into a hole to dig out a naturally occuring mineral or leaving her family at the age of 13 to work 500 km away from her home and sending the money home to her parents. As much as we know she'd like to.

signed, the willow

Casey and Finnegan

We've all had our t.v. shows as kids that we grew up on and fondly remember. For me it was Mr. Dressup on CBC. I do remember a strange and somewhat eerie show called "Nic and Pic". More than likely it was on CBC, since we only had one channel and I'm guessing it was French dubbed into English. *Steve* watched "The Electric Company" with Morgan Freeman. For my brother, he rushed home to watch "The Forest Rangers". For my mom it was "Howdy Doody". What will the next generation remember? My nephew might remember "Barney" or "Mighty Machines". *Mila* is of the Dora generation. She'll have "Max & Ruby", "Toopy & Binoo", "Little Einsteins", "Strawberry Shortcake", "Busytown Mysteries", "Big Comfy Couch", "Numberjacks"....Will she really look back fondly and remember any one of these shows? Casey and Finnegan are in my heart forever. If I had to go live with a stranger, I had always hoped that Mr. Dressup would let me live in the treehouse behind his t.v. studio house with Casey and Finnegan.

signed, the willow

During the Snowstorm

Here's what I'm looking at today.

The Shiny Squirrel

Imogen Slater

Here is what I'm sad about, Guy Lafleur.