What do you mean, knitting basket?

I spotted a pile of these beautiful fair trade African baskets in the window of this shop before Christmas, and dropped a few (too subtle perhaps) hints. When I went back after Christmas to have another look they were all gone. But lucky for me (and Herko) I spotted another pile in the window earlier this month. As soon as I brought it home and sat it down in the sun guess who jumped in. Dave said "You should have got one for yourself as well" (he always sides with the cats). I let Herks have his afternoon in the sun but then I reclaimed it (to be fair, the cats already have their own cozy basket right next to the wood stove) , and now it sits by my bedside, filled with balls of yarn. Now for the big confession: I have rediscovered knitting in a big way. And while usually my blogs are neglected because of work and school and everything else that fills up my days, sometimes, just sometimes, they are neglected because I am knitting in a rocking chair by the fire. There. I've admitted it. And now, I will do everything in my power to not turn this into a knitting blog (believe me, there are some really lovely ones out there in blogland already). Actually I have a little spring cleaning planned for this one. A little renovation, if you will. For starters, you may have noticed that I referred to my husband by his real name. Well, it seemed a little silly to go on with his secret identity once I linked to his website. I've grown tired of the name changes, and having spent more time in the blogosphere I am less wary of it. So as I usher in a new season with a new look I plan to abandon the old names. Stay tuned for more excitement!

Grandpa's Visit

We had a spectacular sunny spring week for my father's recent visit. (We have now returned to a cold drizzle with a chance of flurries(!) this afternoon). It was perfect weather for seeing the sights and we packed it all in, checking off almost all the items on the list the children had made of "things to do with Grandpa". Some of the activities included feeding ducks in Beacon Hill, taking Grandpa to the beach after school, ice cream at Roger's, a visit to the museum, fish and chips on the pier watching the float planes, as well as lots of time spent just hanging out on the front porch in the afternoon sun. We all had a wonderful time and hope to see Grandpa (and maybe even Gramber) back on the west coast soon. In the meantime, I've booked our summer flights back to Montreal so we have that to look forward to.

We interrupt this blog for a special announcement....

... Someone (known to readers of this blog as Dylan) has a new website! Please visit http://davehogg.ca and leave your comments in the guest book.

This will be brief, as it is late here in Victoria, but I've been meaning to share a few photos from the Chinese New Year celebrations for the past two weeks. Lily's class had a field trip to Chinatown just before Year of the Ox rolled in, and she came home bubbling over with all sorts of information; how red is lucky, the number 4 is not... She even pulled out her carefully preserved fortune from the cookie she had been given ("Pay close attention to your business interests in upcoming weeks"). So when I saw in the paper that there was a lion dance happening that Sunday, I asked if the children wished to go, and the answer was a resounding yes. Following Lily's instructions we dressed in any red clothes we could find, then met up with some friends and walked down to the gates at Government and Fisgard. There was loud drumming and a sea of people - we stood on tippy toes to catch glimpses of lions and dragons peeking up over the heads. We got a much better view of the events after we went in to a little bakery to warm up- we came out just as a lion was approaching to perform the dance:



Going for the lettuce...



Got it!



Sam: "He didn't eat all his lettuce".

We had seen merchants hanging up lettuce and money outside their businesses in preparation, and as the afternoon wore on, the lions danced from establishment to establishment (we watched from Bakery to Tattoo Parlour), munching up the lettuce and money, and then setting off a few noisy firecrackers on the threshold. From what I understand this is a kind of recession-proofing ritual. As you can imagine, we were enthralled as we stood watching, eating our warm honey buns.