Weekend Artifacts


Top left: Chris came back from the UK and brought us commemorative Diamond Jubilee Queen Elizabeth spoons. Thanks, Chris.

Top middle: Samantha and I both tend to wake up early, so we met for brunch at 9:30 on Saturday morning – no lineups! – and when we were done, the whole day still stretched before us. We walked around Leslieville a bit, and popped into the Value Village, which always has a good selection of books. This time was no exception.

Top right: On Sunday morning, Andrew and I drove north towards Lake Simcoe and along the way passed an antique barn. Maybe it’s a sign of aging/yupiedom, but I can’t resist a good antique barn. This place was huge, with lots of junk-y junk and overpriced junk, but we emerged with some really good finds: the teak dresser we had been looking for since we’ve moved, some Lou Reed records and this lady cigarette tin, which I will use to store my lady treasures.

Bottom: On Saturday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch trying to write the new thing I’m working on, which is now almost at 20,000 words. The first 15,000 words felt kind of breezy and fun, but I’m now officially at that point where I need “plot” to drive it forward, which is not as breezy or fun. So, I was on the couch and mostly not typing, and while I was staring out the window, I watched a man stop his car in front of our house, get out, and walk up to our porch. He didn’t knock, but he put something in the mailbox. I waved – it seemed silly to pretend I didn’t see him – and he kind of waved back, and maybe he hesitated for a second, but he turned around and went back to his car. Eventually I got up to see what he put in the mailbox, which I assumed would be flyers. Instead? A plank of wood. Written in pencil, it said “Treehouse”. I went upstairs to show Andrew, who was equally confused. The previous owners mentioned that they used to refer to one of the rooms, which they had built themselves, as the treehouse, so maybe it’s somewhat related to that? A mystery.


On Lake Simcoe, there were many people ice fishing, and we walked on to the lake and a man riding a bike passed us by. We also watched a young girl augur a hole into the ice, and her father catch a fish shortly afterwards. So it was a nice weekend overall.

P.S. I’ve updated my other blog with an essay about Paris and uncertainty about food and life, and then growing up a little and getting good at picnics. Basically.