Merry Collage

Little snippets of our Christmas...a Santa sighting on the deck, Dexter enjoying a bowl of borscht (no, it's not lipstick), Chris lifting Matthew up to put the star on top of the tree, a chilly cow, writing a letter to Santa, a train set on Christmas morning, resting on the floor with Dad, going on a ride outside with Dad, Dexter's photo of Mom, sledding...and modelling the latest in Rudolph noses. :)

Ho, ho, ho!

Poised for festivities

Well today arrived with the first SERIOUS dump of snow.  I left the kitchen table to do something and when I came back, Peter had Dexter staring out the window looking for a REALLY big flake to count.  So far they had only seen one. :)

While it is picturesque, the snow of course creates havoc on the highway.  Sister Karen and nephew Andrew were scheduled to arrive today, but have put off departure until tomorrow morning to let the roads clear.  Hopefully they will arrive for the perogie-fest of Christmas eve.  Fingers crossed and weather cooperating.

What else?... I went into town to work at the gift wrapping booth sister Lisa operates to raise funds for work operation.  Oddly, the mall was very quiet, so I got to wrap all of our own presents.  I enjoyed the quiet creative time and only occasionally flashed back to the panicked look on Chris' face as I waved good bye as sat next to Cabin Fever Kid.

Last night I had a flash of Creative Craft Domesticity.  I googled a play dough recipe and Dexter and I whipped up some purple and pink dough.  In viewing the volume resulting from this undertaking, I realized that this recipe was likely aimed at teachers with 20 kids to occupy.  "Note to self:  quarter the recipe next time."  I emptied the house of salt (not a grain left in any shaker) and cream of tartar. 

Did you know that CofT runs at about $1/tablespoon?!?  Mom bought some replacements and a tiny box is $8.   Lisa confirms that around Christmas the price goes up because the local shops know the teachers will be stocking up for Christmas crafts.   Well bah-humbug to you too, for chrissake (she says ironically).

That was a very long way of saying "Yay Mom!"  as apparently the Easter-themed play dough kept Dexter occupied all afternoon.  Especially when I found the Christmas shaped cookie cutters for him to go nuts with.

I came home and in another Martha Stewart moment added water to an angel food cake mix to help Santa produce the cake that Dexter wants for Christmas.

Mom:  What do you want from Santa?
Dexter: Cake
Mom: What kind of cake?
Dexter: I don't know

This is what we have to go on.

So great hilarity ensued as the kitchen filled with supportive relatives to observe my sunken cakes re-emerge from the oven (you can put them back in, right?).  Whatever. 

I'm sure I can trim them down to salvage the edible sections.   They only have to be Dexter-size.  And he will love them.  So there.

I'm going to go see if I can pry them out of the tins.

Photos tomorrow if you're really lucky.

Happy holidays!

Carnage on the prairies

Sister-out-law Alex is joining us for the first time for a Wiwchar family Christmas.

She and Nicole have inadvertently set a new goal for this festive season - experience carnage on a daily basis.

Day 1:  Mowed down prairie chicken on the way into town.  Feathers everywhere.
Day 2: Witnessed a mighty battle between Sam the dog and a three-legged coyote.  Apparently very noisy and dramatic.  Sam gained the upper hand on the already injured beast with a missing paw.  Uncle Peter ended things with the 22.
Day 3: Apparently there is a bounty for coyotes (who knew?). Nicole and Alex's outing was to go chop the legs off the deceased.  Gross.

Chris wondered how it was that Alex is repelled by rare steak, yet has no problems with liberating limbs from carcasses.  "It's completely different" apparently.

I reiterate....ewww.

Day 4 - stay tuned...

Frazzled Grandma

Last weekend the cousins came over for the afternoon.  We set up the tree and the kids ran riot around the house. 

As Aunt Julia was organizing another round of hide and seek, the kids careened past grandma in the living room.

Grandma: Why do they have to do this in the house?
Me: Because it's minus 30 out.
Grandma: Hmmph... (heads back into the kitchen)

Fa la la la la...la la la la...

60 YEARS of haircuts

Went on big excursion into Canora the other day.  Dexter had been going on and on about a haircut, so off we went.

"The north end of Main Street near Tony's Pizza" we were told.  We pulled into the angle parking in front of the combination ladies fashions/health food store and walked from there.   We managed to make it the three or four doors down the street to find Marvin the barber tucked in his 70 square foot shop.

He had a client in the chair, so we wiggled around the edges to sit in with waiting area.  Chris staggered off to find coffee at the Co-Op cafeteria and Marvin and his client casually inquired if we were new to town (ya think?).

After connected ourselves to Peter and Eugene Wiwchar down on the 229 highway, conversation veered back to the pros and cons of the H1N1 vaccination and holiday plans.  Strangers categorized...move on.

As we waited, I pondered the mulitude of plaques on the wall celebrating Marvin's SIXTY years of cutting hair this a past May.  He must be at least 80 years old.  Oh. My. God.  I need a break after 60 days on a job.  That is insane.

Mom figures he owns the entire commercial block and just cuts to keep an eye on everything and stay out of the retirement home.

I didn't experience it, but apparently, when there is a lull Marvin will pull out the violin for a song or two.  Maybe next time.

It was our turn, Dexter sat on my lap and Marvin began snipping. 10 minutes later we were done.

Not the greatest cut ever, not the worse. 

Oh ya....it was five bucks.   Did I mention that?

Wow.

Household communication

The farmhouse is not a typical place. It's BIG...built to accommodate the merging of four households about 25 years ago. The residents have changed over the years, but obviously, the size has not.

Like many 80's homes, it incorporated the latest gadgetry of the time...trash compactor, a jacuzzi tub...a household intercom. Truly state of the art.

Over time, we've come to the inevitable realization that the household intercom is annoying. Like all public announcement systems, you never really HEAR what has just been broadcast, just experience the burst of static that leaves you knowing that something was announced and standing at the bottom of the stairs hollering to each other to figure out exactly what it was.

Happily an ancient technology has solved our communication problem for us. It's called "the telephone". Yes, we are that lazy, that hollering has finally moved us to pick up our respective phones (there are four lines in the house) to reach out and touch each other.

It works and it's one of the few local calls we make! :)

Perogie pinching 2009

Every year, Mom puts on a traditional Ukrainian feast on Christmas eve - the cornerstone of which is, of course, perogies!



Apparently, and amazingly, some of us as kids did not enjoy perogies (unimaginable to me now, as I'm sure Dexter would eat them every meal if given the opportunity).

We did, however, enjoy jam. Yup, strawberry, raspberry, cranberry, whatever berry jam.


So...the two were combined.


Now, every year, special order Wiwchar jam perogies are on the menu. Yum!

When it just doesn't matter anymore...

This morning in the kitchen, Uncle Peter wandered near the window with the view to the thermometer...

Dad: What is it...about minus 27?
Peter (not bothering to look out the window): Well, it's below zero...

'nuff said.

"What's the cut off temperature?"

We took Dexter to check out a daycare in town. "So what's the cutoff temperature for taking the kids outside?" I ask.

Memories of daycare in Toronto, snow is flying and there's a stiff breeze...let's cordon off the hallway and break out the inside toys...it's playtime! Who wants to go out when it's cold and nasty?

"Oh, about minus 30", Rhonda replies. Yup. MINUS 30...degrees...Celcius.

She went on to explain that the majority of this outside time was getting ready, followed by a brief time outside, confirming that indeed it was stupid cold out, then turning around and peeling off all the layers they had just applied. Fun!

And if that's not enough, when they can't do that, they bring the outside in. When we were there, one of the staff hauled in a paddling pool full of snow. The kids pounced on it.

We had to carry Dexter out of there. He wanted to move right in. Soon...they'll have space for us in February. Yay!

Memories of the city...

Finally got around to posting our family photos taken shortly before we left Toronto.

Thank you, thank you to our friend Mary for taking them. Leslieville - we miss you!

Singing in the tub

One of the perks we have moved into here is a HUGE bathtub we refer to as the pool. Dexter has gone from reviling a bath to revelling in it. So much so, he has insisted on a late afternoon swim. Chris has indulged him and is maximizing efficiency by combining bath time with his guitar practice.

Thus I am here at my desk listening to a combination of guitar strums, toddler chatter, squeaking ducks and splashes coming from the bathroom. :)

Yee-hah!!!

Good news,

Chris survived the ice-chopping assignment. The only feedback I heard was "It was hard!"

We crossed paths long enough for him to let me know he and Peter were heading to town to pick up the ski-doo...then there was the flurry of a giggly departure. Okay it was actually the thud, thud, thud of big boots heading back outside...with giggles.

My 70 year old Uncle Peter has seemingly very quickly jumped upon the excuse of more helping hands around to rationalize the purchase of a new ski doo. Clearly, another conveyence is needed on top of the quad and the AMT to move people around the farm!

The last ski doo seen around here was several decades ago, driven by Uncle Orest, the handlebars of which came off when taken for a spin as they were only held on by vice grips - he hadn't gotten around for welding them on. :)

I conclude with a photo of my husband whirling around the field outside the window with Uncle Peter cheering him on.

I'm pretty sure he really wants HIS turn...

Happy Monday everyone.

First solo assignment

It's -22C on this balmy farm morning. Chris has been given his first solo assignment - go chop a hole in the ice for the cattle.

As we lounged in bed this morning with Dexter demanding alternate book readings from us, I pointed out the time - we were late for the 8 am daily planning meeting at the breakfast table.

"No problem" said Chris,"until they pick up the new snowmobile (more on that later), I can't go out with them...not enough vehicles." He relaxed back under the covers.

Eventually we surfaced and found that Dad had a meeting and Peter was happy to give Chris his first task.

The exchange was something like:

Peter: Do you remember where to go?
Chris: I've only been to that one place...is that it?
Peter (looking blank): Sure....
Chris (looking nervous): Then I know where it is.
Peter: Remember where the ax is?
Chris: Sure...
Dad: You know how big to chop the hole?
Peter and Dad: (discuss back and forth about size of hole - Dad - 6 feet across, Peter - 'about this big' holding hands apart, whether cattle have been going far out on the ice...etc, etc)
Peter: Take Sam (the dog) with you, he knows where he's going
Chris: Okay....

And off the menfolk went. I heard Chris clumping out of the house in his uber boots, super touque, new mittens about 2 hours ago.

Hang on...it's been 2 hours!?!? I'm sure all is well. What could possibly go wrong?

A Simple Life

It turns out that Peter has farmed this land for over 40 years. He has seen things change from horses to atv's. These days the old John Deere is on a timer so if you need it in the morning it's warmed up and ready to go. Now that's someting I can appreciate being a computer geek from the center of the universe (aka Toronto). IT is all about automation. But, how is this generation managing it's legacy? I don't know.

The business of cattle farming is a simple one. You buy some land, put a fence around it and put cattle inside the fence. You feed and cattle and sell them every now then. Simple. Now Peter does not know anything about computers and I don't know anything about farming. But I'll tell you this, I don't know anyone from back east that has been doing the same job for over 40 years. He might be on to something here. I might be able to tell you why an account was locked out in an active directory domain, on what server, at what time. I could even tell you if this was a recurring event, possiblly indicating a breech in security or maybe it was just a typo. Simple right! What I cannot tell you is the best way to put a post in the gound to build a fence.

Trudging through the cow patties

Well, winter has arrived...not visciously, just with some glittery, powdery, lovely snow and a crisp -15C. This morning arrived with a glorious display of hoar frost (sounds naughty, looks beautiful :)


Dexter passed out for his nap and I headed out to test out MY uber-boots and coveralls (yes, Grandma was with the kid). I trudged out to where I thought the men-folk were working...I was wrong.


So I found myself cruising around a field with a herd of suspicious cattle. Not showing fear...they kept their distance.


Being athletically challenged, I consider the snow-boarding jacket I bought in 1999 "new". That being said, I clearly have to revisit the notion of layering and adapting to the idea that my outdoor excursions may be more then shivering in the car.


By the time I hit the skeleton that Sam tucked into for an afternoon nibble, I was overheating - hood off, big mitts stuffed into pocket, zipper lowered.

And...that was enough outdoor adventure to me. I headed home, leaving a steam trail behind me.

Saskatchewan motor home

The arrival of our stuff has resulted in the inevitable domino effect...our beds in, a tired old mattress heads to the burn pile.

PS. Dexter LOVES going for rides...