Busy nothings

Posted on June 11, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

Life in sleepy Elmvale is ticking along quietly. The garden is now only 80% weeds. Slowly, slowly we are making progress on house projects. Barbecued broccoli is my new favourite food. And there are orange popsicles in the freezer.

The beautiful thing about summertime is that there isn’t anything big and exciting to report. Instead, life is a series of non-events. Here are some recent ones:

Toby turned 100,000 kilometres

Can you believe my little Honda Fit, Tobias, has aged 40,000kms since I got him? I hardly know where the time and distance have gone. JF gifted him to me about this time last year, and my life has been infinitely more mobile since.

Tobias’ widgets the other day.

I exercised a few times

Confession: my January health revolution never happened. Instead, I gained a remarkable 10 pounds over the winter. So, I’ve given up on self-guided fitness regimes, joined shame-inducing Zumba classes at No Borders Fitness, and started briskly walking with colleagues at lunch. I also do weekly lifts, squats and planks at Swift Fitness, the most sophisticated garage gym I’ve ever seen. And I hate burpees.

My choir put on a show

Le Choeur de la Clé, the francophone community choir I belong to, put on a love-themed concert late May. It was great fun. I even performed in a trio with my lovely cousin Nicole and dear old friend Joël.

My view, every Tuesday night during choir practice

JF and I went garage sale-ing

As you all know, there is nothing I love more than old or dead people’s cheap stuff — except maybe barbecued broccoli. Toronto garage sales are expensive and infrequent. Their Elmvale counterparts are far more fun and plentiful. Plus they often come with ¢25 cookies baked by little old ladies. My favourite find was the scarred wooden duck/target I purchased for a steep $2. I called him Ferdinand, and he lives on my front porch.

This is what 7 a.m. looks like.

The best ones aren’t advertised in the papers.

$40 Booty: chair, quilt, urn, zippo, mug, leather clutch and (of course) Ferdinand.

In the words of Fanny Price (movie edition), “Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.”

A year ago

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

367 days ago at this time, I was hugging my beautiful Toronto work friends goodbye. I remember feeling a happy fluttering in my belly, along with a strong urge to throw up. Walking away from my downtown office is when I actually internalized the fact that, for better or worse, I was finishing and beginning an adventure.

Screen shot that says "you registered on WordPress.com 1 year ago! Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!"

This popped up on my phone on May 31, 2014. Thanks WordPress!

The night before, I had spent an hour hammering out my first blog post. Reading it brings so many feelings back into my head and heart. It was exhilarating to know we were finally going to give our dream lifestyle a shot. And horrifying to think we were leaving stability behind.

In the days that followed, I called our wonderful landlords (how I now admire their impeccable yard skills!) to tell them we were moving. I picked up dozens of regrettably empty boxes from the LCBO. And we ordered last suppers from our favourite delivery places — I miss you, Banjara Indian Cuisine.

Fast forward to now, when I’m often asked if the whole thing was worth it. It’s a tough question to answer.

Most days, I say yes. In this new life, I cook more, see JF more, read more, spend more time living en francais, see family more, and give back to causes that mean more to me. I also love working on our house, in our garden, in our little town.

But is our new life everything we expected? Of course not. I still overload my schedule. I haven’t properly broken in my new purple sneakers. My job is great, but short-term. Our red brick beast/house adds a whole new layer of busy. The hammock we pictured ourselves regularly lying in hasn’t even been installed. And there are Toronto people and things I miss ferociously.

After weighing both then and now, I’ve concluded that I’m closer to who and where I want to be than I was a year ago. I’ve also decided it’s important to have those someday dreams. But it’s equally important that I remember to enjoy the lumpy, potholed (or these days, mosquito-ridden) road I’m on. At the very least, I think I’m headed in the right direction.

Dandelions in a farmer’s field by our house. I know I’m supposed to hate them, but I like them.

My clothesline. It squeaks and doesn’t move up and down very well, but it’s mine!

Members of my Rebelo family playing World (e.g. this violent but awesome street game http://bit.ly/Sp6QiN)

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Posted on May 23, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

I know, I know. It’s been way too long since my last blog post. To those who have come to expect weekly updates, I apologize. Gaps like this shouldn’t happen again – too often.

In my defense, it’s been a rather busy few weeks. In addition to my usual social adventures, I got over my fear of gardening:

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Sang and played in public:

My new friend Greg and I, performing at the Advanced Learning Conference

And celebrated my amazing mother:

Maman

But more than any of those things, my energy and enthusiasm were directed toward a single very important event: my babelicious sister Alicia’s marriage to her beautiful Sebastien.

Alicia (right) in all her glory. That’s Geneviève and I to her left.

If you know my fam jam, you know Alicia and I couldn’t be more different. I played with Barbies; she played with Tonka trucks. I studied the impact of colonialism on third world countries; she has an engineering degree. I like Bananagrams; she plays League of Legends. I’m vegetarian; she loves ribs.

My someday wedding will be simple. Probably a backyard barbecue. Alicia, on the other hand, bought herself a red Cinderella gown, rented a hall with vaulted ceilings, pulled together a full and fun bridal party, hired an amazing caterer, then invited her many guests come in victorian steampunk attire. (SIDE NOTE: Don’t know what steampunk is? Neither did I. Try Google images.)

Of course, their ceremony music was from Moulin Rouge:

I didn’t take pictures until after dinner (e.g. well into wine), so I’m very much looking forward to the images by Kelly Moss, Midland’s superstar photographer. Here are some to tide you over:

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I’ll admit, I had my doubts. But it turns out Alicia isn’t adopted, because eventually, I got into it. I liked the lace parasols, rusted key seating chart, and vaudeville-inspired photo booth. And I was delighted with my poofy hair and mini top hat fascinator.

But most of all, I adored seeing my radiantly happy sister exchange vows with her brilliant and kind partner. I have never seen a person so happy and in love as Seb when he put that ring on her finger. I’m so privileged to have been part of their day and so glad they found each other.

The lovebirds, on a less glamorous day.

Mother’s Day

Posted on May 8, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

My mom, cooking as usual

My mom houses me when I’m homeless, points the way when I need direction, and cares for me when I’m sick. Last week, when I was feeling overwhelmed by the weeds in my garden, she and my avo spent an afternoon cleaning my yard.

Maman is one of those unsung heroes of the world. She quietly, but efficiently, fundraises for charity, volunteers at community events, and excels in her work — all while keeping a meticulous house, exercising regularly, making deliciously elaborate meals, socializing with her Manhattan-sized network of friends, and beautifying the universe with her impeccable taste.

Sometimes it rankles to know that my mother is, and always will be, infinitely cooler than I am. When I was in high school handsome young men I liked would tell me they had a crush on her. Talk about your classic chopped liver.

Classic Mikaela and mom, circa 1985

But mostly, I’m just grateful that some miracle resulted in her giving birth to me.

One of my goals in moving from Toronto to Simcoe County was to spend more time with family. And when I picture my family, my mom is always at the centre.

Just a year ago, a weekend in Midland meant slogging through cottage country traffic, cramming in visits with friends, eating mom’s food, then schlepping back to the city to crash. Last night, a Tuesday, I had her and some friends over for a casual and decidedly unhurried dinner. Radical.

It’s sad that we only carve out one day of the year’s 365 (or 0.3%) to express gratitude to moms — so often the most amazing people, and the most taken for granted.

So here’s to mothers everywhere. But let’s face it, mine’s the best.

Mom and I, last year

Turning 50

Posted on April 24, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

This is my 50^th blog post. Holy. Moly. A lot has happened since I started Hello Field nearly a year ago:

What is totally absurd and wonderful is that friends, family and even a few randos from the internet (hi guys!) have read and cared about all of that stuff. Who knew I had even remotely interesting thoughts?

I started this blog to keep my lovely Toronto friends updated on our adventures in the boonies. That’s still 90% of its reason for existing.

But it’s also a weekly opportunity for me to zoom out, think macro about my life, and write about what’s taking up the most space in my head. Hitting publish is strangely therapeutic.

I guess the whole point of this post to thank you – for reading, reacting to and sometimes even commenting on my stories.

The adventure continues and, at least for now, I’ll continue writing about it in 200-word pieces.

I feel strange publishing a post without a photo, so here’s one of my feet dangling on the edge of the Grand Canyon.

Black thumb

Posted on April 17, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

Our backyard, 85% snow free!

The trees in our front yard are covered in little nubblies that will soon explode into big chlorophyll-sucking leaves. Two crocuses are getting ready to show their shy little faces in the back yard. Tiny little green blades of grass are trying to poke their way through our mangled brown “lawn.”

I am delighted to watch litres of liquefied snow trickle down Elmvale’s street grates. I really am.

Front yard, 80% snowplough sand!

But I must admit to being utterly terrified by what is being exposed to the world. And by the world, I mean my neighbours.

Why? Because I have the opposite of a green thumb. My thumbs are both black as the squirrels that keep eating our birdseed and suet.

About a month ago, a dear friend gave me a little self-sustaining plant. It only needed water every few weeks. Here is what it looks like today:

I’m sorry, Cynthia. I tried!

All of that said, I think most gardeners would be frightened at the prospect of rescuing our yard. Its list of challenges is truly epic. Here are my top 10:

no fence = no dog
uneven, lumpy ground throughout
weeds and mud instead of lawn
no defined garden beds the back yard
random weeds everywhere
patchy mulching in the front garden
sad, brown bushes that need trimming
hostas that need splitting
decks that need replacing
broken paving stones

Basically, I need one of those HGTV shows that will take two days to raze what’s there, then magically replace it all with a lush, low maintenance retreat.

I’ve taken to what I call aspirational gardening. I stand on our back deck, close my eyes, and imagine everything my yard could be. It’s really pretty in my head! Then I go into the house before opening my eyes so that I don’t slapped in the face by reality.

While I’ve got your attention, any great gardeners out there? Can you help me puzzle through the following basic gardening problems?

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At least I have David, JF, and Elmvale Bakery doughnuts.

Heather’s gift to me: David

JF and I at Tiny Marsh

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It’s a small county after all

Posted on March 31, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

You know how I’ve been sorting through old stuff lately? Well, I recently found this journal my mom bought me several years ago.

Here’s the front cover

Thinking I’d get to re-visit angst-ridden teenage poetry, I flipped open the first page.

Instead of a journal entry, guess what I found? A biography about Heather Smeding, our house’s former owner.

Here’s Heather’s bio, with our attic mentioned right in the first paragraph

My mind was boggled. I suddenly had this feeling that the cosmos has big plans for me, that everyone is connected and that someday, I’d find my favourite socks.

Then I remembered : Simcoe County only has 446,000 people living in it. The chances of someone from Perkinsfield meeting someone from Elmvale (15 minutes away) are pretty good.

Damn. I guess those socks really are lost.

Even though the whole thing wasn’t destiny, it was a nice reminder that like-minded people find ways to connect.

When I met Heather, I liked her instantly. She had amazing art, talked straight, and had a subtle (but sharp) sense of humour. She was part of the reason this house appealed to me.

My favourite part of the journal is the last page, where Heather tucked a little list of journal entry prompts.

These prompts came in a sweet little recycled pouch

I thought I’d share some of my responses:

Dear past me : Your poetry isn’t good
If I could change one thing : I’d find my favourite socks
Three good things : BBQ chips, snuggling and puppies
Things I always did with my mom: read Winnie the Pooh
Three things I would grab if my house was on fire : a photo album, the blanket my avò made me, and my purse
If I knew I couldn’t fail, I would : be a painter
Thing I’ve done that I didn’t think I could : sing for a crowd

I think I might use this journal to keep track of the many things I’m grateful for, starting with my mom, good food, friendly people, and happy coincidences.

One of my journal’s inside pages

Flexitarian

Posted on March 15, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

Since moving back to Simcoe County, I’ve spent a lot more time in the kitchen. Bring on the crockpot lentils stews. Why? Because cooking is cheaper and healthier than eating out. Also because I can count Elmvale’s dining options on two hands. They include:

Steelers Pub: specializing in wings and beer
Alma’s Café: classic greasy spoon
Pieces of Olde: soup and sandwiches prepared by little old ladies
Cheezers Pizza: famous
Life’s a Slice: not famous, but still quite good
A’s Fish and Chips: self-explanatory
New Golden City Chinese Food: chicken balls and fried rice
Kozy Kitchen: full breakfast for $3

There are also a few chain joints (Elmvale has the only Coffee Time I’ve ever frequented that isn’t filled with drug addicts and undercover cops), but those don’t count.

Elmvale’s restaurants are surprisingly good, but they don’t exactly offer the plethora of cuisines I’m used to. In Toronto, we had Indian, Japanese and Thai food delivered to our door regularly. New Golden’s wontons just can’t compete.

Also, when I go to most of these restaurants and say I’m vegetarian, I pretty much get the classic response from My Big Fat Greek Wedding:

But sometimes, I just can’t be bothered to cook. And when I go out for food, I find myself eating the occasional fillet of halibut with fries. It’s either that or pick the bacon off an overdressed Caesar salad.

Classic fish and chips. So hard to resist.

My new, flexitarian diet feels really strange. After nine years of skipping finned creatures, popping fish back into my diet doesn’t seem natural. As I ingest flakes of trout, I think guiltily about giant nets scraping along ocean floors and chemicals being poured into vats full of squirming, farmed fish.

Still, that golden, battered, deep fried fish is crispy. And it disappears as quickly as my morals, apparently.

Friends ask if I’m going to start eating chicken or beef and to that I say no – or at least, not now. I’m encouraging JF to purchase some of the amazing local organic meat we have in the neighbourhood (check out my colleague Mark’s farm!) but I’m not ready to go there myself. This flexitarian will only flex so far.

It’s okay guys, you’re safe.

Finding Humphrey

Posted on March 7, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

Back in 2013, when we were pondering the move from city to country, we had a very specific lifestyle in mind.

Picture an ecologically and beautifully renovated old stone farmhouse on a hill, hidden from the road. Every day after work, I’d wear a big floppy hat and tend an organic vegetable garden while JF went birding with our dog Humphrey. Then we’d read together on a big, soft sofa by the fire, the dog curled up at our feet.

It was a nice dream. Instead, we bought a fireplace-less (but pretty!) victorian house on the main street in Elmvale. I’m out most evenings and haven’t touched the garden. JF sneaks in some birding between slow and painful renovations. I’ve read only two books since August.

But there’s still the question of Humphrey.

The closest I came to a childhood pet was the time mom let me keep some toads in a bucket on our deck. I was a bad toadmother and they got away. So, I’ve been asking myself two important questions:

Am I attracted to the idea of a dog, or do I actually want one?
Am I prepared for all aspects of dog ownership?

I’m certain there are things we should do before diving into the world of chew toys and poop bags — like actually answer those two questions and maybe fence in our yard — but the far more fun thing to think about is what kind of puppy we’ll get.

We both really want a rescue, but my nasty allergies and overzealous cleaning habits mean we’re thinking hypoallergenic and non-shedding. So, in the manner of my friend Brad’s most recent blog post, I’d like you all to vote for one of the following options:

VOTE HERE and help us choose!

Blast from the past

Posted on March 5, 2014 by Mikaela Lefaive

One of the down? up? sides of owning a big, rambling house is that many things can fit in it. If you count the creepy basement, our home has four flours — plus several large closets, a garage and a shed. And some of the first people to notice this lavish storage space were my parents.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. The cast from when Patrick Henderson broke my pinkie finger, my extensive penny collection, and my coveted pair of six-hole Doc Martens all spent many years rotting in their basements. Literally rotting. As in, my poor Docs were covered in mould.

My mom was the first person to kindly drop off a bin of childhood surprises, including the following:

My granny square crochet sweater, porcelain doll, and sigur ros mixed cd.

My high school student card and penny collection

Last week, I spent an hour or two in my dad’s basement and was handed the following treasures:

Some of my favourite, strangely creepy childhood puzzles.

My Curious George alarm clock

A few days ago, I received a large Rubbermaid full of old photo albums. Tucked away in a corner was my ten year old self’s most prized possessions: my marble collection.

Complete with theft-preventing inventory

These trips down memory lane were horrifying? pleasantly nostalgic? interesting.

I ended up putting a lot of stuff right in the garbage. Some, like my marbles, are now on display. And some I packed away in my basement, stairwell cubby, and attic closet — ready to be rediscovered when we move in a decade or two.

Me, age four.

Hello Field

An exercise in dream chasing

Category Archives: Personal growth

Busy nothings

Toby turned 100,000 kilometres

I exercised a few times

My choir put on a show

JF and I went garage sale-ing

A year ago

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Mother’s Day

Turning 50

Black thumb

It’s a small county after all

Flexitarian

Finding Humphrey

Blast from the past

Toby turned 100,000 kilometres

I exercised a few times

My choir put on a show

JF and I went garage sale-ing

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