After my adventures in lemonade making on Saturday, I woke up early on Sunday to finish preparing my contribution for afternoon tea with the ladies. I can't remember the last time I felt inclined to bake something (I went through a brief phase of making pâte à choux a few years ago) and instead elected to make some classic tea fare, otherwise known as the cucumber sandwich. Plain jane, but tasty enough.



The other ladies in attendance brought a sampling of other goodies. Hostess Sarah provided the location and variety of teas, one which was famous for curing English gentleladies' afternoon lowness of spirit. Crystal brought salted caramels in individually wrapped boxes so we each had something to take home. Lisa made some great brownies which I unfortunately don't have any nice pictures of. Elize made a duck egg quiche with salmon and Leanne made a gorgeous looking (and tasting) fruit tart with berries and mascarpone cheese.





I'm a little bit jealous of the light in the bungalow, because it makes it so easy to photograph inside during the afternoon. Pictures have a nice glow to them, something which is quite a bit harder to accomplish in my north-easterly facing apartment.

Tea-time was a quiet little affair... like the series of Leanne below, we spent the majority of the afternoon quietly sipping, savouring and smirking (I made more than my share of bad jokes).





Following my tea date, the gentleman and I ran some errands before investigating the mayhem of the mayfair hotel demolition. At some point in the afternoon part of the remaining wall had collapsed during the final stages of the demo, crushing the scaffolding that covered the sidewalk on Jasper Avenue. The Mayfair had been vacant for a couple years and was being demolished to make way for a new housing complex (all rentals) with street level commercial units including zip car rental. The collapse of the wall was apparently rather spectacular (as far as I know no one was hurt) and continued to draw a crowd as the demo crew worked to clean the debris from the road. Had the gentleman and I been home at the time of the accident we would have been sure to hear the most monstrous crash. Alas, we only got to see things as they were close to being cleaned up.




We capped off the evening with dinner on a patio and a visit with the gentleman's parents (also to photograph the sunset from the balcony of the dream apartment). Weekend successful.

I'm going out to a summer ladies tea tomorrow and in addition to the sandwiches I will be making, tonight I prepared a batch of pink lemonade to take along too.

The recipe itself was pretty simple. Slice up some lemons, add some sugar, pound the hell out of the lemons to release the juice so it will mix with the sugar to create the base syrup, then add water. I used some organic sugarcane and also a bit of brown sugar (not the type you bake with), which made the syrup kind of gross looking, so I decided to make pink lemonade and added some raspberries. I also had some mint from the farmer's market, so that was included in the mix as well.







I had a few lemons leftover so I made up a batch of just regular lemonade at the end. It's chilling in the fridge along with the rest of the pitchers, ready to be served up as a nice cold refreshment on a hot summer day. I certainly hope this lemonade is as delicious as it looks.

It's not exactly a big secret... I really dislike going to the gym. I've tried a few times to go on my own, always failing due to lack of motivation and also feeling intimidated by all the wannabe hardbodies. I know that's a gross misrepresentation of all gyms, but I've never had a good experience going to one and for whatever reason (it's never really seemed like it could become a natural part of my routine, attempts to go with other people have fizzled). I've preferred to get my exercise through other methods, mainly solitary walks where it didn't matter if I had any special equipment or it didn't really matter what the weather was like. But walking uses a particular set of muscles and wasn't really satisfying all of my exercise requirements. While I wasn't actively seeking out something that would help meet those requirements, quite coincidentally Sarah mentioned to me a few weeks ago how she had signed up for a beginner's pilates class at the City Art's Centre. The idea of the class sounded appealing to me for a couple reasons, one being that someone I knew would be going and also because I used to do pilates on my own and rather enjoyed it, but since moving to Edmonton hadn't really kept it up. A class (not at a gym ) would be a good way to get back into the habit.

Although I stopped dancing in junior high, part of me always slightly regretted it, if only because the rigours of dance practice meant that I maintained close to peak phsycial fitness. But the competitive pressures were a bit too much for me to handle and instead I disappeared into my books and was active enough through various sports teams (volleyball, track) although I was never what you would call a great athlete. I did hold on to some of things from dancing though. I was pretty flexible and I didn't mind doing series of stretching and strength exercises in my room a few times a week. I had a bit of a fondness for certain fitness magazines. My favourite was the now defunct Women's Sports and Fitness (it ceased publication in 2000), which was actually quite a fantastic magazine because the models were healthy and athletic looking and the articles were interesting and informative. The headlines were less about getting a bikini butt in six weeks, but instead about anorexia athletica or a longer form editorial piece about a rather odd running cult. And then of course there were articles with top female athletes, some dancers, some surfers, some beach volleyball players, tennis players where they would talk about body issues, healthy eating, sexism in sport and then also provide the requisite tips for staying fit but in a way that promoted health over aesthetics. It was a good formative publication for a skinny flat-chested teenager, who, with a crazy fast metabolism and boundless energy, had yet to encounter any sort of real body related issues.



And then in the fall when I turn 17 my body decided to go a little bit crazy and I've spent the last eleven years getting used to a whole new set of challenges, with unexplained fluctuations in energy levels and frustrating health complications that thankfully have never reached the severity of the first particular incident. But what this has meant body-wise is coming to terms with a body which reacts differently than the one I grew up with. And I don't mean that in a way that the maturation of my body is what bothers me... wider hips, bigger bust and buttocks, who cares? No, it was more-so my capacity to just pick-up and do whatever, whether that meant going for a run or lengthy swim... and not be plagued by the physical tiredness that sometimes catch up on me and affects more than just my muscles. It's taken me a long time to recognize when my moods are being affected by my iron levels.

At the risk of sounding sort of exercise pretentious, I was rather eager to join Sarah at the City Art's Centre pilates class because I was looking for a bit of a stress reprieve and I was pretty sure that pilates could help with that. I'm sure I must have first read about pilates in one of my magazines, and I was curious enough that during a shopping trip to some larger metropolis I came across the book The Pilates Body by Brooke Siler, a pilates trainer in New York. The book was laid out nicely and the mat exercises looked easy to accomplish without having to go to any sort of great expense for equipment. Plus, it appealed to my teenage sensibilities of having a lean and lithe dancer's body (and when you're 5ft 9 and a bit and skinny, you would prefer to be thought of as lean and lithe rather than bony and awkward). What I liked about pilates immediately was the way you would breathe, expanding the rib cage on the inhale while keeping your lower abdominals stationary. I would lie on the floor of my basement bedroom and stare at the acoustic ceiling tile while practicing my breathing. Later on my sister and I purchased some pilates VHS tapes, soon to be replaced with a couple DVDs and we would work out in the living room while various members of our family would come by and mock us.

My dedication to the DVDs would wane, one can only listen to the same cheesy background music so many times without being irritated by it, but when I remained committed to it I would see and feel the benefits. However, with moves and changes in life and work, the good habits I established were broken. I thought I'd try the gym again, but like always, it just wasn't for me. So pilates class it is. It was inexpensive and it's not a whole lot of commitment (once a week right now), and it fits my lifestyle - it's close to home and potential social activities and I get to spend time with a friend while I'm there. I realize I seem really quite excited about one class that I've attended, but it's good to be excited. Would you rather I be bitter and negative and really doubtful that I will make good progress this time?




The City Arts Centre is only about five minutes away from the apartment by bike, so I strapped my bag to my bike rack and wore my mat on my bike and cycled across the bridge. I misread the time and arrived ridiculously early (I would have been early anyhow, since I had yet to ride across the bridge and was being very conservative about how long it would take me to get there). It was beautiful out though, so after locking up my bike I sat on the grass and watched the future Wimbledon pros as they rallied. Sitting in the sun was a bit of a mistake, because by the end of the evening I had the most wicked sun headache and was nearly ready to throw-up on the LRT ride home. It felt fine at the time though and I was keeping well hydrated.

Our class was in the drama room, which had a border of these black and white tiles that Sarah and I both took photographs of. The class was pretty small, with about 20 people, but a whole mix of ages. Mostly older women, but there was one man who I'm pretty sure was the husband of the one of the women. They both looked like they were in their late 60s or early 70s. Joint exercise must be the key to a lasting relationship. The first class was pretty easy. We did a few standing arm exercises with the theraband and then we moved to the mat where we spent the remainder of the class with the exception of the final balance exercise which we performed standing (note to self: my left ankle has gotten weak).




I brought my yoga mat instead of my thicker pilates mat, but because the floor is not sprung like a dance studio I regretted not at least grabbing one of the thicker (but shorter) mats that most of the other students were using. For most poses it was fine, but there's one where you balance in a v-sit position and my tailbone was a bit sore by the end of it. Lesson learned. I will add additional padding next time.

After class, Sarah and I rode over to Safeway so she could grab some buns and then we rode to the bungalow for burgers. Rather than have me carry my mat on my back she put it on her rack (mine was occupied by my bag, just not in the photo below). Later when I was about to head home, Sarah and I strapped on her Carrie basket (which she's lending to me... yeah!), but just as I was leaving the garage the spot where my bungee cords were attached snapped. It was okay since I was taking the train home, but it meant that I had to sort of ride bow-legged the few blocks to the station while I held the basket in front of me. I looked rather comical.



I had left the bungalow feeling a headache coming on, but by the time the train was crossing the river I felt absolutely horrid. One would think with my special blend of Italian and Caribbean genetic spices that I would be less susceptible to heat exhaustion, but apparently all it takes these days is an hour in the sun watching some tennis (I'm not blaming pilates because it wasn't all this first session wasn't that physically taxing). Once I got to my station, I walked hurriedly to the apartment and leapt into the shower and nearly gave myself a heart attack with the cool water (think of what it feels like to jump into the lake or ocean after you've been sunning yourself on the beach... yeah, that kind of cold water shock). I went immediately to bed and meekly requested that the gentlemen fetch me a cold cloth for my head, some tylenol for the head pain and something that I could vomit into (thankfully it didn't come to that). He brought me a pot, which I thought was rather funny when later in the evening I said to him rather politely that he could take the puke pot away now, since it seemed I wouldn't be needing it. It was sort of a sad end to the night, because I didn't even get to admire all the work the gentleman had accomplished on the apartment while I was enjoying my burger (reports on that coming soon, the apartment not the burger). I didn't get to excitedly show him the pretty basket which I will be retrofitting with velcro and new flat bungees from RedBike (ditto on the report front). I felt much better by midnight, but subsequently was up until 3, and kept on pestering the gentleman who was in full night-owl mode and trying to get some work done. I'm sure I was quite annoying because he kept sending me back to bed like a bratty child who just wouldn't sleep. If only he had seen me hours earlier, snapping a self portrait outside Safeway while I guarded the bicycles and yoga mats from would-be thieves. My cheeks were rosy from a combination of exercise and heat exhaustion (1:2 parts respectively, even if I didn't realize it at the time) and I was happy.

I've been working from the home office almost exclusively for the past couple weeks, save for meetings in City Hall, and I've been really enjoying the perks of the cool apartment (no horrid inconsistent temperatures due to air conditioning and lack of fresh air in a stuffy building) and the ability to run out for an impromptu lunch at one of my neighbourhood's newest additions, elm café.



Most people know a bit about the backstory of elm, how it was supposed to set up shop in the old Hulbert's location in Belgravia, mere blocks away from the LRT station with spot for a lovely outdoor patio. However, plans to take over that location fell through and elm was left without a home. Luckily though, chef and proprietor Nate Box was able to find a new spot for elm, on the other side of the river in a little space the same size as a standard bedroom. The petite eatery, located just north of Jasper Avenue on 117th Street, is mere blocks from my apartment. Nate's tasty sandwiches draw in steady crowds throughout the day, but there are still a few quiet moments where you can avoid lineups (which even if there are lines, Nate's exhaustive prepwork keeps them moving quickly) and you're not in the way if you want to lallygag and shoot some photographs whilst also shooting the breeze with the chef and whomever else might be helping behind the counter (in our case Nate's lovely wife Claire).

Elize and Sarah were the ones with plans to meet at elm for lunch, and since I hadn't been yet (the gentleman had gone without me earlier in the week) I tagged along as the jolly third wheel (well, technically the fourth since baby D was also in attendance). I met Sarah by the LRT station and we wandered through my hood to reach the café. Elize was already outside waiting with a latte, sitting next to Sarah's neighbours who were enjoying their lunch. Inside was another friend, who had stopped by for some coffee. While I'm not a coffee connoisseur by any means, I usually only drink it if one of my friends prepare me a cup at their homes, I have to say that this coffee could easily change that. It wouldn't be a stretch to go for a quick walk in the morning to pick up a cup and maybe a spot of breakfast. The coffee beans are supplied by 49th parallel and when the gentleman returned from his illicit visit to elm, he was raving how the coffee was easily the best he's ever had. His adjective of choice, smooth... but said in a way where the vowel sound of the o' has been elongated so that the word takes on almost onomatopoeic qualities.




It was a fantastic summer day outside, warm and breezy, so after we selected our sandwiches (Nate prepares a different selection every day... an early breakfast sammie, followed by a hot and cold selection for lunch and dinner) we took advantage of the wide bench outside the shop and conversed about all the things that three intelligent ladies are apt to discuss (in between bites of course).




While I can't imagine the stress that Nate must have gone through in having to find a new location for elm, part of me is glad that he ended up where he did. The café is a great addition to the neighbourhood. They've done a fantastic job with the curb appeal, the minor details of the landscaping are exactly what we need to see more of in Edmonton, especially along Jasper Avenue. Outside the shop Nate has decorated with plants that soften the harshness of the building. The worn bench is wide enough that you could share it with a stranger and still feel some semblance of privacy, but also intimate enough that you feel some sort of connection with those sitting next to you. It's also deep enough that you can put your coffee, sandwich and newspaper down beside you. Nate could have so easily gone with more generic tables outside, but instead he's created something with character and distinction, ensuring that those who visit elm café will not only enjoy great food but also a positive experience.



In a city where there are lineups out the door for greasy spoon breakfast next to a freeway, I definitely appreciate the care and dedication Nate has taken to create what is already one of Edmonton's best eateries. My compliments to the chef.

2010 has been a pretty unproductive year of knitting so far. This lack of knitting productivity has a lot to do with the fact that settling in to the new apartment has taken much longer than I would have anticipated. Most of the boxes and bins have found some sort of permanent home and in a couple weeks those boxes that don't will. I am eager to find a more better place to store my knitting and sewing projects. Part of the reason why I haven't felt inclined to knit, is that I don't really know where half of my yarn stash is... My sewing machine is somewhere in the storage room and isn't easily accessible. I've been working on one project for the past few months and haven't made much progress at all.



Sure I've been accomplishing lots of other things in the meantime, but I miss making things. As the summer progresses I will find more time to knit, finishing off this lengthwise scarf (which I'm currently finding really annoying to knit) before moving on to other projects.



In addition to the few knitting projects leftover from last year, I have a pile of dresses that I've been meaning to mend (broken zippers and such) and alterations to finish, like this skirt that I fashioned from a dress that I now have to shorten.



And then of course there is my container herb garden. Sarah bought me this set of basil seeds that I need to get germinating. Alessandra is growing chives and thyme up on her balcony that I will eventually steal from. And next Saturday I plan to buy a mint seedling.



It will be a little garden party.

This year, Canada Day (or Dominion Day as the gentleman prefers...err.. demands it to be called... at least while the queen still lives he says) fell on a Thursday. This has resulted in one of the longest and most delightful weekends I've had in quite some time.

Dominion Day started off with a breakfast at nearby Zuppa. Later I met up with my siblings, including my oldest brother Davide and his wife Dian who were up visiting in order to help my youngest brother finish moving. I had to abandon my siblings for dinner with the gentleman's family and the subsequent viewing of the fireworks.


I was really excited for photographing fireworks this year, since I was going to have one of the best vantage points I've ever had... without having to show up several hours early and sit around smelling cigarette smoke or having my tripod knocked out of place by someone making their way through the crowd to get to a better spot. Although there's something to be said about being admist the oohs and ahhs.




Friday was BBQ night. The gentleman prepared ribs for the first time following extensive research of cooking with indirect heat. His commitment to the study of delicious ribs was rather successful. The ribs were tasty and the perfect companion to the side dishes of wilted butter lettuce with buttermilk and chive dressing and grilled corn (thank you Fine Cooking magazine for the side dish recipe ideas).


And then Saturday of course was market day. I stocked up on fresh produce and the fridge is full for the first time in ages.



I wasn't the only one who was stocking up. This particular cyclist had filled her basket to the point of overflow. I still haven't picked a basket for my bike (plan for this week I think) so I walked home with my bounty, potatoes, berries, mint, red lentil dip, pitas and some fish for the evening dinner. I must have been in the mood for entertaining this weekend as we had Wade and Phil over (first time in the new apartment) for a casual dinner of potato salad, butter lettuce salad, roasted peppers, and fresh pickerel poached on the bbq with lemon, dill, chives and butter.

The weekend has ended with a quiet birthday. Tom and I were chauffeured around the city by the gentleman to take some pictures of various public art projects. We had a bit of a late start, but we managed to photograph a couple of the projects before Tom and I went for a breakfast brunch at the sugarbowl.



I had planned a birthday picnic in the park, but the cool temperatures and intermittent rains led to celebrations being relocated inside the apartment.




Like the rest of the weekend the party itself was pretty chill. When I usually have parties I tend to make everything, but this time I delegated tasks to my guests. Happily they all complied and brought tasty treats like lemon-poppyseed loaf, spinach and feta dip, fruit salad with moroccan mint, and then a smattering of savoury bites. My lovely birthday cake was provided by Leanne, who kept her colour scheme of fruit topping very American.

The party wrapped up early in the evening and now after dinner with the gentleman, Alessandra and her man friend from Padmanadi (not that I needed any more food this weekend) we're all settled in to watch In the Loop.

And this my friends, is why I love the beginning of July.