Returning to My Roots

I created this blog almost nineteen years ago to keep my mom updated on our kitchen renovations. It started on a very fledgling tool called Facebook Notes. I would quickly type up something stupid, add a photo so that Mom could get an idea of the destruction and progress (in those days, uploading a single photo for a post on Zuck's site was a time-sucking exercise that would have tried the patience of Job), and then put the whole thing in a note. My parents would typically travel to some exotic location in the early fall before making their way to their snowbird home. They weren't here to follow the construction, so those silly updates kept Mom in the loop. 

Facebook was fairly raw in those days. Many of the features available today didn't exist back in 2007. I never knew what it was to tag anybody, so I simply posted my little vanity posts, hoping that Mom would see them. It was my version of an electronic letter.

I had no idea that other people were reading them until the posts started receiving comments from other family members and friends. Apparently, I had created a five-minute hit of entertainment for a small corner of the intertoobs. Those little missives attracted a minuscule but dedicated audience, and I was sucked into the vortex. I eventually moved those posts to this Blogger site, and the rest is history. I was blogging at a time when blogging was a real thing. I moved on from kitchen reno updates to offering my opinions on a variety of subjects. I never tailored the space to any specific "influencer" site. Honestly, I am not talented enough to speak on any one subject with any kind of authority or depth. I simply enjoyed the writing and the venting. For years, I wrote every day. I saw this space as a public journal, and I received encouragement from other women doing the same. I was caustic, opinionated, a wee bit funny, and sometimes I challenged the popular views of the day. I sometimes turned this space into a travel blog when we travelled, a recipe blog when I needed cooking ideas, and more recently, it has hosted some special letters I have written to my granddaughters. 

I stopped writing regularly because the internet became a place that wasn't always safe to express my opinions. Bots would regularly invade my comments. Hate was on display even in the most anodyne of posts. And to be honest, blogging and bloggers moved on. Podcasts took over the spaces that blogs used to occupy. Why would anyone want to read something they could listen to? Most podcasts are now visual as well as auditory. Simulcasting on YouTube is a must in that world. It is the new television. The Husband tried to convince me to start a podcast, back when little nothings like me could actually find a platform in that world. Today, unless you are affiliated with a media organization or have a famous name (Amy Poehler), podcasting isn't the democratic outlet it purports to be. AI has taken over much of the writing universe. It all sounds the same. I swear on the lives of those I hold dear that I have never and will never use AI to write a post. The prose coming out of ChatGPT or Claude is so pedantic and boring. It may be grammatically perfect, but it is so fucking dry and dull; I can't imagine wanting that for myself. 

So, this little online journal has sat mostly dormant. I haven't written as much because there isn't all that much to say that hasn't already been said. My parents can no longer engage with my writing, having lost some of those abilities. Most of us are so inundated with content daily; why would anybody care about reading what my warped mind produces? 

In that vein, I am returning this space to its original purpose. I will be using it to document our fairly extensive renovations. Yup. It's a kitchen blog once more. 

We have lived in this condo for ten years now. That is as startling to me as it might be to some of you. We told ourselves that we wouldn't make any hasty decisions about renovations until we had lived in the space for a while. A decade is far longer than a while. Other issues and expenses took priority. There was a wedding, two grandchildren, a pandemic, some family health issues, a few unfortunate deaths, and the unwinding of a business to deal with. But we are finally ready to tear it down and build it back up. We will be gutting our kitchen, fixing our family/tv area, adding storage, and cleaning up some of the stupid stuff we inherited from the previous owners. I will post on here from time to time to show some of the progress, some of the mess, and much of the vision. A lot of this foresight comes from The Husband. He is great with these kinds of projects. I want to curl up in a fetal position in a corner and pretend it isn't happening. We will be leaving for several weeks during the construction for a long-awaited trip, which I won't spoil just yet. I am hoping that much of the really dirty work gets done while we are out of town. In the dark recesses of my mind, I know this is highly unlikely. The bittersweet part of this shift back to a kitchen blog is that Mom can't really follow along. Her computer skills have kind of gone AWOL. I will bring it to her to read when I visit. I do think she will get a kick out of it. 

Here are some early photos of the first phase of destruction. Lord, give me enough sanity to get through it.

Old Pantry

Beginning the new pantry

Talia at 5

Dearest Talia,

Half a decade! The BIG FIVE! The toddler is gone, and we welcome the young lady. 

I can't help but think of that night five years ago. In the wee small hours of the morning, Zaidy and I raced up to Newmarket to stay with Molly, because you were on the way. Quickly. It was the middle of the COVID pandemic, and the world was very different from what it is today. There was a lot of staying home, very little socializing, masking, and I must say, there weren't a whole lot of really fun things to do. Your arrival certainly brought sunshine and rainbows into an otherwise dismal time.

It's amazing how we all have COVID stories. Every person I know can recount and regale with some tale of that time. Some are tragic. Some are beautiful. Some are hysterical. When it's my turn to prattle on, I tend to remember that day in early August. I couldn't wait to "Bubby" you into submission; smother you with kisses and joyous tickles. I wanted desperately to bond with you immediately, the way I had with Molly. Alas, the pandemic had other plans. 

Being a COVID baby meant far more isolation. It meant initially you were shy, and everyone around you was more concerned about contagion. Care meant separation, and separation meant distance. That all changed just after your first birthday.

We decided that in the immediate aftermath of lockdowns, we would head to Disney World as a family. It was an awesome trip, even if you were a bit too young to fully enjoy the experience. There were rides, ice cream, tons of junk food, and Mickey. But for me, it meant finally spending some alone time with you. While others were riding Space Mountain, we giggled. While others went to spend money, we bonded. While others went hunting for characters, we shared contraband food that wasn't really on a one-year-old's meal plan. It was one of the best trips ever, despite Mickey infecting us all with COVID. Vaccinations are a modern miracle. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

And now, Talia, you and I have a bond that can never be broken. I love who you are and who you are becoming. You are mischievous, a bit goofy, and you possess a hidden intelligence you refuse to put on display. You perform on your own terms. I love that strength. Some people go their whole lives without learning how to say no. You've kind of mastered it. You enjoy a myriad of activities, and while you are still figuring out what really floats your boat, you are willing to try new things. You spent a week at Camp George this summer, and you basically owned the place. You've dubbed yourself "Queen of Camp George" and have spent the ensuing weeks strutting around in a tiara. That takes a self-confidence most of us don't possess. Talia, live your life wearing that tiara with self-assurance and never care what anyone else thinks about it. 

You and I share something else. We are going through life as part of the vertically challenged. Did I ever tell you that I spent the first four years of my life at school being called "Little Dawn"? There was another Dawn in my class, so she was "Big Dawn," and I was "Little Dawn." How moronic is that? I still can't believe teachers allowed such garbage to fester. I know what it feels like to not be able to see the parade. I intuitively understood the devastation you felt when you couldn't reach into the rays' tank at the aquarium to pet them. We are short, and unfortunately the world can be unfriendly to us. But here's the thing. "Little Dawn" became the girl with the BIG voice. I have no doubt that your talent and intellect will shine. And someday, I promise, you will be able to pet those rays at the aquarium. (I still can't see the parade unless I push my way to the front. Keep pushing, Talia.)

Of all the things that I love about you, the one that I simply cannot figure out where it came from is your obsession with cats. You have always loved animals, even photographs of them, but you weren't all that thrilled when Mando came on the scene. A puppy wasn't really in your wheelhouse. He is now a loyal and true friend, but I get that he seemed big and boisterous to you a few years ago. Mom told me that you started loving cats because of a TV show, but we are well past that now. I know you would love to have a kitten, and Zaidy did consider it as a birthday gift this year, but Daddy threatened us with annihilation if we even dared. This feline craze is real. Everything has to have cats on it. Toys, blankets, face paint. If it isn't a cat, it isn't worth your time. Even your zodiac sign is Leo the Lion, the biggest kitty in the universe. Coincidence? I think not.

After giving it some thought, I have decided that you are very much like a cat. Cats are curious. They are always investigating, asking questions, and peeking into corners. Cats are independent. You always want to do things by yourself and without help. Cats are playful. You always turn the simplest game into an adventure. Cats are mischievous. Just like you, they are looking for just enough trouble to make people laugh. Cats are observant. You always see the details that many of us miss. Cats are loyal. You form deep bonds with the people you love. Cats seek out comfort. You love to snuggle with a cozy blanket, or cuddle up with me. Cats know what they want. You are never shy about letting everyone know what you want. Cats are remarkably wise. You are constantly surprising me with your insightful comments. Finally, cats take joy in being themselves. Talia, I honestly can't come up with a better description of you than that. 

I am decidedly not a cat person, but I am a Talia person, and I love the person Talia is becoming. I will love a cat if you do. I sort of promise. Until then, I will spend my time in adoration of you.

Happy 5th Birthday, my darling girl. May it be lovely, warm, fun, and feline. 

I love you to the constellation of Leo and beyond.

Love, 

Bubby

P.S. Here is a fun and short video of one of my favourite songs about cats.