A Mood Lightener
We were in a little bidding war for a great apartment yesterday and didn't get it. Boo.
And so, I take my solace in Muppets. This video gets bonus points for its cameos with Ira Glass and Zac Galifianakis:
We were in a little bidding war for a great apartment yesterday and didn't get it. Boo.
And so, I take my solace in Muppets. This video gets bonus points for its cameos with Ira Glass and Zac Galifianakis:
WARNING: This post is loooooong (even by my standards). Do yourself a favour; go to the washroom, pour yourself a drink and then settle in. I also admit to show my bias throughout - but, hey, that's my right as a blogger and not a journalist. But please read it all the same.
During our most recent trip to Europe, I took a lot of photographs of darling old buildings and homes. I'm a sucker for history and architecture, although I don't claim to be an expert in either. I'm really more of an ignorant admirer of it all - someone who finds romantic beauty in old glass windows, wrought iron balconies and rusted, ornate door handles. I dreamily envision all the people throughout history who touched these objects and then I feel a funny, fuzzy connection to them all.
I obviously knew that Canada was a relatively new country - I never realized just how new it was (or just how ancient everything else was) until I came face-to-face with the oldness of Europe. And never was this fact brought home more than during a conversation with Gauthier, our friend and host who had all but given us his Parisian apartment during our stay (have I mentioned that Gauthier is one of my very favourite people in the world?).
We were discussing real estate - in Paris and Toronto (a city he lived in for a short period of time). We had explained that we used to rent an apartment in an old house in the Annex, loved the neighbourhood but couldn't afford to own, so we bought a not-so-new condo unit in Old Toronto instead.
With an amused look, he asked, "When was this old house you rented built?"
"Around 1905," we said.
"And this 'not-so-new' apartment. When was it built?" he inquired.
"We think 1994, or so. I mean, it's not *old* exactly, but not new compared to some of the condos in the area," I explained.
He laughed to himself and shook his head.
"My apartment," he said between a long drag of his cigarette, "is older than your country."
That shut us up. The fact is, we were staying in a home that was well over 400 years old.
"And it's nothing," he said after another drag. "There's many like it. It's just a place that I get to sleep in for a while."
That conversation from a spring day in Paris is what first came to mind when I heard about the conflict over 204 Beech Avenue. The story has been circulating around Toronto for some time, but if you're not among the Centre of the Universe Dwellers, I'll give you a recap:
Geoff and Melissa Teehan were (and are, in many regards) a lucky couple. They have two beautiful sons. Geoff had successfully launched his own digital marketing agency (yes, he's in marketing and advertising, but let's not hold that against him). The couple owned a home in the coveted Beaches area of Toronto. Life was good.
Then, one day, without warning, Melissa experienced a series of scary symptoms that led to a 911 call and a long hospital stay. She went from being an active, healthy woman to a wheelchair-bound wife and mother with Transverse Myelitis who had a whole new set of obstacles to deal with. When Melissa was finally released from the hospital, the couple quickly realized that their forever home didn't work with their new life (for example, all their washrooms were on the second floor - something impossible for someone in a wheelchair to deal with). They decided to sell and find a place in the same neighbourhood (so their kids could still go to the same school) that was more accessible-friendly. They settled on a condo but quickly discovered that the place was tight for a family of four. To which, as a condo dweller, I say, "duh."
They decided on the next best course of action - find a space in their neighbourhood that they could build an accessible home on.
Sidebar: Accessibility is actually a huge issue in this city. I firmly believe it's the major reason why we lost the Canadian Olympic bid way-back-when. Just try to maneuver our sidewalks, catch the subway (which involves getting into the subway station to being with), go to your favourite restaurant or enjoy a visit to a home in a lovely neighbourhood while a) carrying a load of groceries or b) hobbling on crutches or c) pushing a baby stroller or d) depending on a wheelchair. And if you don't have any of these completely normal issues to deal with - PRETEND. For just one day, PRETEND that you do, Torontonians. See how incredibly horrible it is for so many people.
After much searching, the Teehans found the piece of land they could live on in the neighbourhood they called home for the past 10 years. This was 204 Beech Avenue. Because it was always their intention to scrap the house (it turns out that homes built in 1910 were rarely code-friendly, let alone accessibility-friendly - and the majority of homes in the area were from around this time), the Teehans investigated whether they could, indeed, bulldoze what was there and build something new before finalizing their home purchase. You see, just because you own something, doesn't mean you can do whatever you like to it. Rather, you have to make sure, plaque or not, that your home hasn't been deemed "historically worthy" by the yuppie a-holes powers that be. So, they did their homework.
Supposedly (she said with journalistic integrity), they did three things - they researched the City of Toronto’s online registry for heritage properties, they investigated the area (their street had voted against being included in the Heritage Conservation District), and they called the city twice to confirm their findings - although the city claims to have no record of this last point. Only they and the city know for sure about that last factoid. That said, I had a job in the past where I had to work with the city to get permits. They also told me, at one point, that they had no record of my requests - this despite of the fact that they had cashed the cheque that was included in the envelope with said requests. Just saying.
With the supposed all-clear given, the Teehans formalized their home purchase in January 2010 and began the long and costly process of developing a new accessible home on the land.
Then the new trubs started.
A neighbour caught wind of the Teehans' plans and was deeply offended that the face of her beloved street would be forever marred by a home that didn't fit "the look" she had come to expect from her window. She attempted to launch a petition, but when many of her neighbours were less than outraged over a homeowner doing what he wished with his own non-heritage-designated property, she took it to her city councillor, Sandra Bussin.
Bussin then requested that the city's Preservation Service investigate the property for its heritage value. She eventually received a report back that stated:
“The building, built prior to 1910, is an important surviving example of the early development of the Balmy Beach Neighbourhood. ... This home is also representative of the local beach cottage building tradition, and speaks of the district’s beginnings as a summer retreat.”This was apparently good enough to delay and deny the Teehans' building permits and warrant a formal request to declare the home "historic." After they purchased it, to be clear. Councillor Bussin went so far as to say that the Teehans didn't do their due diligence in buying the property, as apparently, they should have contacted her directly to find out if their home was of interest to the
While "The Wifestyle" (a modern housewife experiment) isn't officially on (but will be soon - must develop my "rules" and post them) - I have been attempting to keep two things up:
Last night I decided to cook a vegan meal for Patrick (and myself, of course). It's from The Conscious Cook - and a demo of this recipe can be seen here.
Now, I'm not totally wild about using soy products - there's a fair bit of debate on whether soy is truly good for you - so this isn't going to be standard fare 'round these parts. Plus, there's practically nothing local or fresh about this particular dish - it's actually quite processed when you think about it.
Oh, but it's pretty. And a certain someone who announced he wasn't interested in vegan food hoovered this dish down at such a rate that it gave James Dyson chills.
"Is this healthy?" Patrick asked me in those rare moments between bites.
"Umm ... well, not exactly," said the wife.
"But there's no meat in this, right?" he asked. "Or dairy or eggs or anything?"
"True - but just because something is vegan, doesn't mean it's healthy. I mean, I bet Doritos are vegan but you wouldn't ..."
"DORITOS ARE VEGAN?!?" he squealed.
Ah, crap.
To clean the pipes from the 50s Housewife Experiment and to get both myself and my husband to a healthier place, I'll be making meals throughout the Modern Housewife Experiment (which I think I'm just going to call "The Wifestyle" - thoughts?) that are primarily vegan or vegetarian, local, seasonal, whole and homemade. It won't be perfect - and I'm sure you'll see a few things that fly squarely in the face of everything listed (we be human) - but the overall intention is there.
Yesterday's trip to the farmer's market netted many a tasty item. Today I made a "slow supper" containing loads of locally-grown produce. It took me the bulk of the afternoon to do everything, but it was a nice, relaxing way to spend a Sunday - and we have great leftovers from this all as well!
First, I made Pistou Soup, using a recipe from the Food Network's Laura Calder (I like her, but everyone who's ever mentioned her to me talks about their HATRED for this woman. I think it all stems from her what-is-that / what-are-you-trying-to-be accent. Any thoughts on this, Canadian TV snarkers?). This is one of my favourite soups - and it's so basic and lovely. Since the veg was all organic and I'm lazy peels contain a lot of fibre and nutrients, I didn't peel the potatoes or carrots (just gave them a good scrub). I also used plain ol' water rather than vegetable stock and skipped topping the soup with Parmesan. I made a very simple pesto with just fresh basil and olive oil (didn't bother with adding pine nuts or cheese - which is often normally included) to dollop on top. The only non-local ingredients used for this soup were the white kidney beans, olive oil, salt and pepper.
Next up (or, actually, while I was doing the soup), I made the Fresh Rosemary Focaccia from the cookbook Veganomnicon. I opted to use half white and half whole-wheat flour. Really yum, although the only truly local ingredient in it was the fresh rosemary. Maybe I should look into an Ontario flour mill ... ugh ... effort.
Finally, I got cracking on the 'fill' for the sandwich. It contained my homemade pesto, eggplant, roasted red peppers (done in the oven super easily - I also keep their skins on when serving them), sauteed mushrooms and sauteed leeks.
I "made up" this sandwich, but for the eggplant, I used a cooking method that I found in Vegetarian Times's Farmer's Market Cookbook (which is really just a magazine, but whatev). This is their trick: After you let the sliced eggplant 'sweat' a little (set the slices in a colander, sprinkle with salt and leave them for 45 minutes), pat them dry. Then with a really, really minimal amount of olive oil, lightly brown one side of the eggplants in a large frying pan over medium heat. You then flip them, pour some white wine vinegar on top, pop the lid on, and let it cook until all the vinegar has evaporated. Done! Yummy pan-fried look and taste without a lot of added fat.
Throw your fill ingredients all together in the focaccia (layer your veggies or mix them together - whatever you want!), broil it a bit to warm everything and you have dinner! The only non-local stuff used to make the sandwich stuffing was olive oil, vinegar and salt (used in the cooking process).
For Patrick's sandwich (not pictured), I gave him a generous slice of mozzarella cheese made from the sheep at Bestbaa Farm (their farm is 100 clicks NW of the city but they sell their milk, cheese and lamb at the St. Lawrence Farmer's Market on Saturdays). Patrick is on board with vegetarian foods, but giving up cheese, milk and eggs is going to be a bit tougher for that boy. I figure as long as I buy products from happy, healthy, local animals - and we don't use loads of it - we're still eating conscientiously (that said, I'll be seeing how he feels when he eats dairy-free - sometimes he gets stuffed up all of a sudden and I wonder if it's a milk thing).
In any case - he loved it all as did I. The meal was really filling and earthy with great flavour. While he enjoyed the mozza on the sandwich, I think feta cheese would have been really nice too. Might pick some up from the goat farmers next week...
Off to enjoy the last hours of the weekend ...
I can't tell you how much fun it was to research for the 50s Housewife Experiment. One of the goodies of said research that I came across was an article in a soft-cover manual from the editors of The Bride's Magazine called the The Bride's Reference Book. Within it, there was a very straight-forward article about brand names and the whole purpose behind buying a brand to begin with.
I've never read a consumer-facing (a.k.a.: written for you and me) piece that spelled out why brands are brands and why brand loyalty is important. And is it just me, or has branding (or maybe our reasons for buying into it) lost its path in the whole brand-is-an-extension-of-your-personality rather than a brand-is-a-promise-to-the-consumer kind of way?
In any case - enjoy (click 'em to expand)!
When I decided to do the 50s Housewife Experiment, it was not to make fun of the ladies of the 1950s. After all, they are - depending on who's reading this - our mothers and grandmothers. Without them, we all wouldn't be here to enjoy the brilliant prose of a certain long-winded blogger.
No, I was never here to mock them. Well, except for the food thing. Because ... seriously? Seriously? No, seriously?
I thought the 50s housewife was such a neat little specimen, doing her thing, looking so darling - but a part of me felt sorry for her. After all, she didn't have the bevy of choices women have today. The expectations on her, if you're to believe everything in my household guides at the time, were rather exacting. Plus, she likely went to work to support the war effort in the 40s, discovered she could do more than anyone ever allowed her to believe, and then she was stuffed back in the kitchen - to serve her man and, eventually, a brood of children that she was expected to produce on the double.
The following is the intro to my Bride's Reference Book, which basically spells out the role of the 50s housewife. If you click on it, it will expand (hopefully in a new tab) to full size.:That last sentence - "woman's most important job, husbandry" - causes many a modern person (and not just women) to flinch.
I'm not sure if it's residual resentment from societal expectations / limitations like the one above, a new set of expectations that you're not really contributing (to society / your home / womanhood, even) unless you bring home a paycheck, or new standards of living that insist we need to be making more money - but the appreciation for the homemaker has dwindled along with the number of people who actually earnestly take on the role. You don't hear of many people who have chosen a career in homemaking. Yes, there is the stay-at-home mom (although of the stay-at-home moms I personally know, all but one brings in some revenue through at-home businesses, part-time work or consulting - so even she often wears a career hat). But the stay-at-home wife (and not the trophy-wife-with-a-maid variety)? She's officially on the endangered list.
But regardless of whether you think the homemaker has any value or role today, there's still plenty we can learn from her - or at least, plenty that I did. Here are ten lessons I learned from being a 50s housewife:
1. Maybe We're a Bit Too Distracted
Pre-50s Experiment, Patrick would get home and I'd be at the computer. Always. There I'd stay until he eventually wandered in the house and found me. Then he'd start complaining about something (his transit ride home, something about work, the strange sounds emanating from our cleaning closet) and I'd barely turn my head from the computer but just make those "Uh huh. Mm. Yep" noises. Eventually Patrick would say, "Oh, wait, you're still working, aren't you?" I'd give him a relieved look that he finally noticed he was interrupting me, say I was almost done (but wouldn't actually finish until several hours later) and then he'd wander off and complain about being hungry.
It wasn't unusual for my husband and I to be sitting in the same room, amongst a mess, both wishing dinner would somehow appear, each staring into laptops, with no conversation between us for hours. We weren't in a fight - we were just hugely distracted with non-stop work, yapping with strangers on Twitter and the fleeting entertainment of websites that feature a bunch of asshole cats (better than a site of cats' assholes, I suppose). And when we did stop and eat, it was on the couch with the TV on. Both of our faces would be pointed at the blinky box or at whatever made-in-10-minutes meal was in our hands. Our main interaction during this time was when something funny happened on TV or one of us spilled something.
Our life together, ladies and gentlemen.
Ta-da.
The 50s housewife was a smart, smart lady and she would have none of that. She greeted her partner when he arrived and aimed to have dinner timed so they could both enjoy it shortly thereafter.
Eating at the table (with cutlery!) was an instant change. We suddenly were sitting across from each other twice a day, enjoying a meal that both of us contributed to (he with the $, me with the cooking) and with nothing but the other for entertainment and communication. And for the first time in a long time, I'm ashamed to admit, I listened to what Patrick was saying about his job, his day, his - sigh - fantasy baseball league. While that last one required many silent prayers to Ron MacLean, the Patron Saint of Keeping a Straight Face, it was actually really nice - for both of us - to have time devoted to the others' thoughts. Even though not every meal was a culinary delight, I got to see his appreciation for it all the same, which goes a long way when you've worked on it for a while.
* Greeting each other when we get home - keeping it!
* Eating our dinners at the table without distractions - keeping it!
* Reducing TV time - keeping it!
* Setting greater limits on how much work gets done while we're together - keeping it!
2. The Benefits of a Clean House Go Beyond the Surface
So - using metal polish on the bathroom taps, deep-cleaning the oven and flipping the mattress every week was a bit much. That, you can guarantee, will not be kept (at least not at that frequency!), but man, was it / is it nice to have a tidy, organized home. Here are some things we noticed:
Over the course of two weeks, yours truly attempted to live the life of a 1950's housewife - through recipes and meal planning, a housekeeping schedule, a dedication to being frugal, and by maintaining specific beauty standards.
So, what did that all achieve? How did participating in this project impact our bodies, our finances, our home, our relationship, and our overall mood?
About the Body
Weight Change:
I present to you, the Frank N' Bean Bake:
It sparkles like a Twilight vampire. Who would have guessed Edward's secret was bacon grease?
This is the original from Good Housekeeping's 10 P.M. Cook Book, for those who wish to do the erect wiener comparison (and who among us would pass up that opportunity?):
A summary of our findings and overall observations of the 50s Housewife Experiment are coming up very shortly!
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