[Samsung Smart Camera] Sent you a message! — Originally uploaded by LexnGer shots from home
Route To Solar — Originally uploaded by LexnGer Yup, it’s a bright sunny morning on the island. Cold but lovely. And with the sun comes power! Which occassionally means responsibility falls to me to climb this ladder and clean off the solar panels or check connections. Because we all know that with great power comes great responsibility.
I promised I’d share some of the roofing tips I learned while spending a week on dad’s roof. So here you go: Rolls of tar paper will fall. On you. Rain will fall. On you. Work from bottom to top. 1 cutter and 1 nailer gets the job done more than twice as fast Zinc flashing seems to keep shingles in better shape longer.
Yes I did! I used chipotle marshmallows from Bobbette & Belle to make s'mores! When Matt, Sarah and Allyson discussed making Chipotle Marshmallows for Matt’s twisted Tacos de Mole dish at the last Secret Pickle Supper Club, I couldn’t get the thought of using them for S’mores out of my head. These Chipotle Marshmallows aren’t readily available. They were a custom flavour Sarah & Allyson, from Bobbette & Belle, made for the Pastry Pickle So when I saw a little pile of marshmallows left over after the dinner I snagged a small stash of them for marketing and experimentation purposes……
The first roof I helped roof was on my god-father, Ferdinand Vigneau’s camp. I was 3 or 4. Walking across the roof of Ferd’s camp, carrying nails to my father and waving at the very infrequent passers-by at the bottom of the Moss Glen Road, I felt so useful, capable and empowered. (yes, I know it sounds so neo-fem, but it’s the best word to describe how I remember feeling standing on the end one pudgy hand clamped around those galvenized roofing nails and the other waving.) The last roof I helped roof was on our house on the island…
Home… now to cross the river as the sun sets. — Originally uploaded by LexnGer After 2 painless flights on Air Canada we made it to Saint John, where wewere greeted by 3 dear friends who took us on a whirlwind shopping trip forprovisions. And proving yet again that they know someone every where theygo.Then down to the Gondola Point Grocery to jump in the boat and cross theriver.It was a beautiful crossing with a gentle breeze creating a pattern of lightand colour across the river surface. I love my river!Home safe and sound and ready for a long swim…
We’ve been working on cleaning up our house on the island and that means there has been a lot of stuff that needed to be disposed of. Our house, now named The Boathouse was the place where all the kids hung out back in the day when there were big parties here – the Annual Tea Party being one of them. We’d cover the second floor with sleeping bags and have an evening filled with ghost stories and giggles. Imagine a summer camp run by hippies with a single bunk house for all the kids. (Of course I’ve never been…
It was one of those days when you reach into the cooler to pull out a roast of beef to barbecue and pull out a pork roast. And what do you do when you pull out a pork roast? Make Pulled Pork of course! So the rub got assembled: "we don't have paprika, use chile flakes instead" - "we don't have celery salt, use Lovage instead" "we don't have brown sugar, use white sugar and a little hit of molasses" "we don't have cider vinegar, use vinegar instead" Then the requisite whine from dad: "this is waaaay too complicated, why…
Littlest Aardvark Meets Duct Tape — Originally uploaded by LexnGer Given the number of people on the island and the number of kayaks, we had a 2:1 ratio. So I decided it was time to put the Littlest Aardvark in the water. By the time I was ready to put paddle to water and shove out from shore, the stern of the boat was filling up with water. And not just a little water. The Aardvark is a handmade wood and canvas kayak. (Not made by me). Unfortunately canvas splits when it's too dry and too tight. Canvas rots when…
The end of vacation blues have started to encroach on our fun. You know, the point on your holiday when you realize you have crossed the half way point and you start the countdown. Counting the number of days, sleeps + hours until you won’t be here anymore? Then you start getting a little snappy for no good reason? Reactting to and over-interpretting everything being said by the loved ones you will be leaving? Of course you, gentle reader, wouldn’t do that and have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m speaking for myself. And I hate it. So instead…
I can’t quite decide whether it’s warm enough to go into the water for my daily swim. The sun keeps popping out so it’s possible that it will warm me up after what Gerry has taken to calling the scrotum-shrinkingly good time of swimming in this river in late September. And of course I could always run back to the house where the fire is already on… but that seems so wimpy. Not going in at all seems equally wimpy, but that wind is so biting and this fleece is so warm and dry. And the Great Canadian Myth that…
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