Our Holiday Pop-up Shop

Oh, December. There's something kind of twisted about December being a much needed break for me this year because it's generally a pretty busy, demanding month, no? But it is; at least, one of these days it will be. I'm done with trips to the city and class until January, and am preparing to just relax for a week or two before doing some stock writing, starting two freelance editing jobs, finishing off Christmas preparations, etc.etc.etc. Sebastian and I had the flu this week and are still recuperating in this very cluttered and messy house. It's taking all the strength to not rampage around the house right now, but instead sit down with a good book and knitting projects for our Pop-up Shop, which opened at the Shed yesterday. It's running for eight days total, this weekend and next weekend, and is brimming with precious found and crafted local items we've collected from the community. This is something I wanted to take part in in Montreal but never got my act together. Tomorrow I'll kick off my true vacation with an americano, knitting in hand, laid back in this adorable little Christmas shack on the water. I will try to post some more photos in the weeks to come.
I've found myself more generous towards Christmas this year. I hung lights outside. I've put together plans for a wooden Christmas tree for Alex to make. I'm not entirely disgusted; I'm a little excited. Don't get me wrong, I do love opening gifts (I just hate having to deal with them afterwards) and I love getting together with family, and having any excuse for a big meal.  
But I have beef on both a personal level and a social level. On one hand, I'm not a Christian, and I'm minimalistic. So on both accounts Christmas is a bit of an affront. I have to politely overlook worshipping something I don't believe in, and I have to be bombarded with things which, for the most part, I don't want.
I've learned to smile and say thank you and not feel guilty about promptly thrifting gifts that don't have meanings or uses. Everyone has excessive gift-givers in their lives. My theory is that they give gifts because it's how they show their love, and it makes them feel good. I think in a roundabout way it's a bit selfish to give people things they don't need or really want. I find it overwhelming and a bit of an anti-present. I spend days and days reorganizing and decluttering after a bit gift-giving event. It's wasteful.
My biggest issue though is this: every time we get new items as presents, it's something else that's eventually going to end up in the landfill, and if it's not a natural material, it's going to be there for a long, long time. I find this particularly ironic and frustrating with gifts for kids. It's a gift for about a day, or a month, or maybe a year at best. After that, it's one of the biggest anti-gifts you could give the next generation, and future generations. It's more shit for them to deal with later. It's more decay, more waste, more pollution, more reliance on and support for foreign industry that produces nothing but more shit, more trouble. It's further contributing to creating a society that places highest value in material possessions. It's overlooking beautiful things that already exist and need to be reused, recycled, whatever. It's contributing to a disposable idealism. Yah, it probably sounds smug or over-the-top to some. But I really do think it's true, and I think if we really love the people we're giving gifts to we will consider a more holistic approach to gift-giving, not just appealing to the consumer side of each of us.
There's a theory about the Seventh Generation that I try to think about every time I make a purchase. Admittedly, I've gotten totally sucked into thinking about stuff especially for Sebastian. I find myself buying him things he doesn't need, or accepting new things instead of second-hand. We could definitely be doing better with consumption, and it's something I definitely take seriously. At this time of year especially I have to pause and ask, Is it actually a good gift? Is it going to be something positive for the receiver's future, and, ideally, their kids and theirs? Or is it something designed to make someone feel good for a tiny amount of time?

It's been stormy here off and on for a week or two. A lot of ferries have been cancelled, power outages, rainfall warnings and many indoor days. This is winter on the West Coast. It hits the islands especially hard, or anywhere that relies on the ferry, like here. You have to consider what you'd do if the infrastructure keeping you fed and warm should fail, if only for a week or two. Aside from being in a high-risk earthquake area, we rely on the ferries so much. A lot of the time in the winter they can't dock because of high swells and wind. It's usually okay here, because we're pretty sheltered, but we've already had a couple of power outages. So, amidst our crazy schedules, we're also trying to adapt and prepare for winter, something we haven't had to think of much living in cities for so long.

There are some items we've stocked up on:
beeswax candles
flashlights
camping stove
cast iron pans
fire wood

There are some things we still need:
more of everything
matches
batteries
a store of easily cooked "emergency" food
non-cordless phone
back up water (the water stores eventually go dry when the power is out)
old pots and pans for fire cooking

Meanwhile, we've been battling the ultimate West Coast winter problem: mould. Even living in Victoria I've had some bizarre mould encounters, and it rains so much less there. There was the orange shelf fungus I found beside my bed in the Rainbow House (to which my guy roommates replied, oh yah that's where the little white mushroom used to be) and the completely moulded underside of one of Alex and I's mattresses (never put a mattress directly on the floor!). Also, just in general, how a loaf of bread would mould almost instantly in a cold, damp house. I'm sure I have some other scarring mould stories that I've just blocked out of my mind.
Alex said something the other day that really stuck with me. I think he was just making a philosophical comment about life everywhere, but on a literal level it seemed particularly poignant here in BC. He said that we're all just constantly fighting against decay but that decay is nature. Here, it almost seems like our houses are being engulfed by nature, especially in the winter. Almost nothing you do can stop it. Our house has been almost completely redone in the last couple years, we don't have that much stuff to constrict air flow, we keep the heat on, we have new windows and so on. But we still find mould, pink, green, and, unfortunately, black. It's just surface mould, but it's a big job to maintain it. It seems like it can appear in one damp afternoon. We've made some storage adjustments, gotten rid of many things we don't need, and wiped everything down with natural bleach. Every morning we wipe all the windows down and once and awhile we check on all the nooks and crannies. So far it seems under control again.

Today, we have a rare day of sunshine. We've got to get outside and soak it all up.

A belated Halloween picture

We think he was a French pirate but you'd have to ask him.

It's Autumn. I haven't been in this part of the province for anything other than summer and the odd winter weekend since I was seventeen. On the Coast, you're immersed in the elements with few distractions and so far I think it's a great thing. The infamous rainforest downpours haven't started yet; we've been enjoying pretty mild and sunny days. Knowing it won't last, we've been spending as much time outside as we can. Alex works outside and travels to Keats Island on a tiny boat each morning. He's also never lived in a small town, so I'm especially interested in seeing how the winter is for him. The weather dictates our days but also local harvests. We've been getting as much food from the roadside stands at farms in the Henry Reed area of Gibsons. Every time I go there's something slightly different, depending on the growing week and the weather. Right now there's obviously a lot of squash, kale, chard and garlic. There's also peppers, hot and sweet, and broccoli. We've had bundles of apples from Keats and up the road and the Wilson Creek farms which we're getting through a bit too quickly. The biggest harvest right now though is mushrooms. Plywood signs advertise mushroom buyers for local pickers along the highway. There are big luscious chanterelles in our fridge. After the great garden massacre (our garden got weedwacked and ripped out by our landlord, but don't get me started...), we've had to rely a bit more on the farms. But we still have arugula, radishes and a bit of lettuce clinging on through these frosty mornings.  

A cameraless family does not make for good bloggers. We have a video camera but it takes poor photos. We've  been using it for months, hence the odd quality. But, it's better than nothing.

Lazy Sunday bucket-standing

The delay in posts should give some indication of our lives since September. Gone are the days of seven-day work weeks (now we're down to six), though the days are still ever-demanding. But amidst all the activity one of us is always home with Sebastain, and on my days I try not to get anything done, but just sit with him and read, go for walks, stand with him as he explores the trails around Lower Gibsons, talks to dogs, and collects maple leaves. Every day I'm home with him is like a deep breath.
The days Alex is home with him I'm in Vancouver, commuting commuting, or I'm at the Shed down on the wharf enjoying the view and the suddenly lessened demand for burritos and tacos. I've got this eclectic jumble of days and I like it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm missing out on some aspects of the MFA program at UBC because of all this juggling and commuting (mostly the drinking aspect, although I think I've done okay thanks to the last ferry option), but I'm doing the best I can and I think I'm doing a good job so far. I just got a job as a "mentor" for a writer through Booming Ground which is exactly the sort of thing I needed more experience with when I'm thrust out of the university nest and looking for freelance editing work, should I head down that path. I've also been working on a series of Montreal poem for Rhea Tregebov's class which I'm really enjoying. I should also say that I owe all the manageable days to Alex, who has been extremely supportive of this whole Masters thing.
I think life has felt a bit chaotic because of the extra energy we've been giving our housing situation. We've been having some conflict with our landlord, which has reminded me of the overwhelming power human-drama can have on otherwise calm and satisfying days. The house came with some heavy personal and financial baggage that we were only peripherally aware of but has escalated to an uncomfortable degree. We've had to pause from our demanding projects and to-do lists, and take some time to really think about what's important to us, where we want to be, what kind of house we want and what kind of sacrifices we can make to get it. When we took this house we didn't know how committed we were to the Sunshine Coast, I didn't know how many days I would have to commute into the city, and we didn't know if we would be content here coming from Montreal. Now we have a better idea and are happy to stay on the Coast. The house is beautiful, and we've had an amazing summer here so close to the beach, swimming off the dock after work, having fires outside and gardening. But it's not a place we can stay long-term, and now we know we'd like to be somewhere with long-term in mind. So, come spring, if not sooner, we'll be finding somewhere to put some roots down for a while.

For a few days now Sebastain has been doing some serious work out on the deck. This work includes: a tin bucket of water, a stick, leaves and petunias. Someone's gotta do it. Aside from dismantling the (non)hanging basket and splashing the water, there has been a lot of sniffing the concoction, sniffing the bean plant and sniffing the flowers. But there have also been breaks to eat tomatoes off the vine and chew on tough bean stalks which were not left there to be eaten but to dry out for next year's seeds (ahem).
But this concoction business has lead to a lot of signing practice. This is the typical "conversation" we have out on the deck these days: patting his chest,  point to palm, finger to mouth which translates to... "help! more! water!" The "help" and "book" signs seem to be his favourite these days. We read so.many.books a day. I guess that makes sense if you know his parents...