I remember every detail of the first time I saw Buddy. There was a tuft of his fuzzy brown head poking out the top of the red plaid gift bag that our close family friend, Robert D, held out to me with one hand.  “You can call him what you want, but his name’s Buddy,” He said, in his characteristic style, at once both caring, and uncomfortable with all the required mushiness that comes with caring for two little girls as much as if they were your own. I looked at the bag Robert D had given me and then back at him before opening it to pull out the furry brown body. I gave Buddy a test hug and it was love at frst squeeze.

It’s been 24 years since that day and Buddy has spent every day of those 24 years on my bed, propped between the two pillows by day, and tucked under my arm at night. I’ve rested my head on him when I needed a prop, smooshed my face into him to stifle my tears and fallen asleep smelling his weird, warm laundry and lipgloss scent. Any embarrassment I may have had at still having a Teddy Bear has faded with my adolescence and though I know I don’t need a bear to sleep with, I still tuck him under my arm even now. He’s warm and full of memories that float out every time I squeeze him, and his little worn body is molded perfectly to the contour of my arm. To me he represents everything about being  kid that I want to remember and perhaps that is why I love having him around, even now. To remind me of the things I never want to outgrow.

Someone asked me recently if Buddy would now be Noah’s and even though I want to give him everything I can, I said no. Buddy is full of my memories, not his, and a ratty old bear wouldn’t mean the same thing to him. Besides, I wasn’t done with Buddy yet.

But Buddy had a twin named Teddy, who was under the care of my little sister all these years. Although she played with and talked to Teddy all the time, she never slept with stuffed animals and so Teddy has weathered the intervening years in better shape physically than poor Buddy. This past Christmas was the first time in over ten years that the two bears were re-united. You see, my sister, knowing what Buddy meant to me, wanted Noah to start from scratch and have the chance to have a bear that would be to him what Buddy was to me. Tia nobly handed over the care of Buddy’s long lost brother Teddy into my son’s tiny hands. If anyone is trying to find a Christmas gift that will make your sister cry, this is it.

Putting Buddy and Teddy side by side shows the toll that 24 years tucked under an arm can make on a poor bear. I hope this year marks the start of Teddy’s new journey and that in another 24 years the stories he will be able to tell will be just as good as Buddy’s are.

For the Harry Potter fan in your life….

Also available in Natural Stain, but the lead time on that is 5 weeks since I need to order this box shape special and it won’t be ready for Christmas. In this series is also a map of Narnia, and one of Middle Earth, but again, the lead time on those two items is about 5 weeks. The provincial stain (above) id ready to ship now and WILL arrive for the holidays if you order soon!

With Christmas closer than any of us are willing to admit, it’s time to start finding that perfect gift. If you’re dedicated to buying handmade this season, this means you’ll be spending lots of time on Etsy. To save you time, grab the Etsy Search Plug-In for firefox or IE7 (You’ll get a dead link in safari or IE6) and you can search Etsy listings right from your toolbar. This saves you going to the homepage for your searches, jumping right to your results from whatever page you were on before.

This tool is provided by Etsy, so you can trust that it is safe to download and install.

I walked into St. Andrew’s church, by the front doors, this time. Years of finding my way to the sanctuary by the side door had led me to forget there even was a public entrance, and it was odd to see the double doors thrown wide, light spilling onto Central Ave. The plush teal-blue carpet had the same slightly musty smell, my footfalls puffing up little invisible clouds of long-stale incense and candle smoke. There were more lights then there were on my Tuesday evenings spent there – large stage lights that gave off a heady heat. I imagined the feel of them on my face as I looked over the packed pews and was a little thankful that I would be sitting down, behind the glare tonight. It was the only thing I was thankful for.

I was to be a Christmas celebration. Not a mass, a concert. Secular and sacred, modern and traditional, the few hundred gathered had come to hear them sing. Some for the first time, some for the hundredth. Some, like me, for the first time on this side of the pews.

The first of the girls entered by the back door behind the altar. I pictured the line running down from the little staircase and the girls quickly checking that the folders were on their audience side. The light flashed mutedly off the silk of their cream gowns as they walked to their places in a double synchronized line. Smile to the audience. Don’t move a muscle.

He entered first, she following, heading to the conductor’s stand to bow. She sat down as the Pianist entered and bowed. The first song must be one of his. I hadn’t taken a program. I don’t know why, but the glimpses I caught of the familiar titles as I walked past other listeners seemed to pain me. I would listen, and try to be ignorant.

I missed it. My Tuesdays were empty now, my Saturdays filled with a new crop of activities. I had to leave it behind eventually, but deciding that then was the time was a hard decision. It had been part of my life for 10 years. Trips to Europe, Winning the CBC choral competition every year we entered, singing in Carnegie hall and representing Canada in international competitions. Things that made me proud. And the girls, best friends all with funny traveling stories and concert mishaps. Pranks, skits, little sisters and the new generation. I was 11 when I passed my audition to join the choral elite, but it was a hell of a lot more than a choir to us. You can’t sing as National Champions at that level without putting your whole heart into it, and we all did. And some of us left our hearts behind when we left.

Many Alumni are still involved with the choir heavily. Not me. More than geography, it is my heart that keeps me away. You can never go back home, they say, and Amabile was home. I learned after that first concert how hard it is to sit and watch, even now, almost 9 years since I have left the choir myself. I enjoy singing with the old group for “Amabile weddings” or other group reunions, but I can’t sit in the pews and watch while trying to stop the notes from spilling out of me with every ounce of restraint I have. It will always be this way, but that’s okay. Amabile was a huge factor in who I am today, who my friends are and what I believe is important, and that’s not bad for 10 years of work on John and Brenda’s part. The choir has done what it can for me, more than I can imagine, and now I need to do the rest myself.

The blog has been quiet over the holidays due to the holiday rush, so I have some catching up to do. So, in the spirit of fourth grade english essay assignments, here is what the holidays had in store for us…

Orders from the shop, the majority of them custom designs, started coming in near the end of November and did not stop. It has been fantastic and horrifying and certainly a learning experience. I had completely underestimated the holiday rush for Sixth & Elm but that was very good news for me and I was able to buy some Christmas gifts for myself too, including the shiny new laptop I am now typing on. Running on 4 hours of sleep a night, cleaning out the supply of 8×8 boxes in the greater Toronto area and finding out what the couch cushion looked like with ebony black wood stain were some of the things I would liked to have skipped, but despite the rush I enjoyed it all.

I especially liked being touched by the stories each custom box told between the gifter and the receiver. The shy and sheepish requests for cute, silly, sweet and nonsensical (nonsense to me, anyways) phrases or images burned onto the boxes each told the story of a bond – a sweetheart, a daughter, a friend – and it is rather nice to be surrounded by these stories at this time of year.

For sanity’s sake during the rush I did take a few breaks to make some pieces for my family and for the shop. My sister Tia has liked the copper tree sculptures I have been making this year, so it seemed only appropriate that I make her a tree in her favorite colour for her favorite time of year. I have a listing up at the shop of the Christmas tree I made her if anyone is interested in commissioning a similar piece. I also finished a decorative wall map I made for her of Middle Earth from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. Hers was unstained, as per her wishes, but I will be posting the version I stained with a Cabernet stain in the shop sometime this week.

We gave Mom a hand-etched wall panel of an elephant (Mom’s crazy about them) but the poor thing did not make it all the way to Mom & Dad’s. Staring at the cracked pieces of my hard work in the backseat after a fateful attempt to calm Chuki’s in-the-car panic attacks was really heart-breaking, but kitty didn’t get hurt on the glass and I can make Mom another.

I also played with copper plating a few items (using the electrophoresis tank at work – don’t worry, Yanming – it will still work for proteins), but I need to find a better conductive paint, and I made a few roses and other small clay items to fire sometime this year.

Next year I am already set up to explore origami and leather tooling (yes, it was because of Into the Wild, so what) along with some glass – slumping and maybe getting into lamp-working. Looks like it’s gonna be a busy year, but I can’t wait.

We put the tree up this weekend, mostly because we are feeling holiday nostalgia since at this time last year we were walking into Disneyworld when it was fully decked out in holiday decor. They don’t do anything halfway and I was overwhelmed by the lights, music, trees and general holiday mayhem. What a way for someone to experience Disney for the first time, especially someone who likes Christmas as much as I do.

The holidays have been getting a bad rap for the past few years and I have to tell you, I don’t buy into it. Sure, companies make a ton of money during the holidays, but Christmas is what YOU make it. No one is going to make you buy all that crap you see in the stores, no one can force you to care more about your presents’ price than it’s intent. I think it’s fun to go to the mall and listen to the music and look at the elaborate displays, and I am not going to let the fact that those displays are intended to lure me into shopping ruin the fact that they are fun to look at. I love holidays because everyone gets into it, for their own reasons to be sure, but apathy has trouble finding a home this season. There are so many stories, so many moments during the holidays that make you smile, remember, appreciate who you are with – what can be bad about a season that does all that?

I guess it is about the way I was raised. Christmas dinner is more important to me than the gifts, even though Tia and I were blessed with generous parents and did get a bit spoiled in the gift department. I think if you want to capture the spirit of Christmas and teach your children to appreciate something other than the price tag you have to start inside your family, not outside of it by passing the buck and blaming the corporations. A Christmas full of traditions (the wackier the better) and family gatherings, of spending time with your kids by going skating, or shopping, or just playing in the snow – those are the things that will end the commercialism and bring back a wholesome Christmas. We are really good at blaming others, but for this we need to start in our own backyard.

Anyways, here are some beautiful pictures Adam took of our tree (of course, only one shot of the whole tree, and one of the glass bulb I broke). If you are wondering why it looks shorter this year we had to leave the base off or else it covered the TV and half the room. Once we win the lottery and have a gigantic mansion we can use the whole tree again in all its 8-foot-what-were-we-thinking-buying-a-tree-that-damn-big-in-the-first-place glory.

Year after year I lament not having a classy way to display our incoming Christmas cards, especially since we have some pretty creative family & friends, many of whom make their own card designs that are worthy of a gallery showing. Last year I finally did something about it and now I have a place to display the cards and I have spruced up one of those annoyingly random pillars-in-the-middle-of-a-room thingies like we have in the rec room. It’s exceedingly easy, colour customizable and takes about 5 minutes.

1. Confuse or con your friend named ________ (insert gullible friend’s name here) to drive you to the craft store near your house because your sorry butt is too broke to buy a car.
2. At the craft store, spend waaaaaaay too much time browsing the stamps and eventually wander over to the discount ribbon bin. It doesn’t have to be the discount ribbon bin, that’s just where I found mine. If I had not had this ribbon already, I would have bought some of the beautiful ribbons in the new Martha Stewart line that have been highlighted on Black, White Bliss and Try This At Home recently. The ribbon I used is 3 inches wide, velvet and quite sturdy. The edges are wired, but that is not required. Any ribbon will work, as long as you like it.
3. Place the ribbon in a large plastic bin and forget about it for about two years.
4. Pull out the ribbon again and dust it off. Tie a nice puffy bow in one end of the ribbon and cut from the main roll so that both tails are even. I just used a shoelace bow, but if you are a professional bowtie-er or a Marine you might know some better bow knots to make. This one seems to work.
5. Take the remaining ribbon off the roll and let it hang. Tack one end of the ribbon strand to the back of the bow using tiny safety pins or thread. I sewed the ribbon strand onto the bow with burgundy thread and the back of it looks a little like Frankenstein’s neck (sorry.. Frankenstein’s monster’s neck) but it really doesn’t matter as long as it holds. How strong the tacking has to be depends on whether or not you have children or animals who will play the “let’s pull on this and see what it does” game.
6. Buy a roll of cork WAY too large for your project. Not sure why you need to do that, but that’s what I did so I am just writing it down with all the rest. Line your cupboards with the leftover cork.
7. 
8. Cut a long strip (or many smaller ones) equal to the length of the ribbon strand, from the bow to the floor, if you want it that long.
9. Affix this cork to the back of the ribbon strand with hot glue or some other adhesive. Don’t sew it on or the cork will just crumble. In my pictures the bow is already on the wall for this step, but only did that so I could use one hand for the pics. You can do all this on your workbench, of course.
10. 
11. Place your bow at your desired height on the wall with a tack or one of those sticky hook thingies. I don’t think “sticky hook thingy” is the official name for those things, but maybe it should be.
12. Trim the ribbon (and cork) with a V pattern at the height to which you would like it to hang under the bow. Tack the bottom of the strand and cork to the wall to keep it straight and against the wall.
13. Use tacks to tack up cards as they come in, as below. I didn’t have any cards yet, so I hung up random stuff I found for the picture. We have a lot of random stuff.

TA DA! Done. Now send me a card so I can put it up there. Um… please.

I may have taken it a bit too far. Today at dinner I actually caught Adam’s hesitation as he looked at the plastic wrap he just pulled off the raw ribs and the little flick of his eyes toward me told me he was running through the list of approved items he could throw away and he was thinking to make sure there was nothing I could make with the bloody plastic. That dear man had no idea he was marrying the recycling police when he uttered the fateful “I do” a year ago. He knows it now.

For a re-user like me there are only two days in the year we like as much as Christmas: Community Spring Cleaning Day. Yes, I know Spring is generally a ONCE per year event, but the creative minds at city hall couldn’t think of another name for the “Spring Cleaning” day in fall (I guess “Fall Cleaning” was taken?) so the October event in Oakville is also called spring cleaning. Spring Cleaning is the day when the City of Oakville allows you to curb your large items and appliances. But before the pick-up comes the prowl. Trolling down the street with wagons and pick-ups checking out everyone’s junk for a goldmine of their own. Our current city of Mississauga does not have this day and I miss it. One spring cleaning day we put a futon we did not need on the front lawn and timed how long until someone picked it up. 5 minutes and 45 seconds later we were trading bet money and shaking our heads. By the time the garbage truck comes there is little left for them to take.

It’s blog action day, and blogs all over the planet are posting their ideas for making the world a better place. I personally think the world would be a better place if there was less shit in it. Sorry, I don’t like to swear, but that’s what it is. More specifically, less one-time-use-specialized-consumer-trash-that-can-only-function-one- way-and-then-must-be-added-to-the-local-landfill-soup. Although I have a tendency to be a bit eccentric about it, I think it is helpful for us all to take a damn good look at the crap we generate. I know if you want to buy anything these days it is hard to avoid the blister-pack problem, but keeping the phrase “there’s gotta be something I can make with that” in my head is the way I fight global pollution, one broken toaster-oven at a time.

P.s…. do you realize how hard it was to write the “one-time-use…..” sentence above without automatically hitting the space bar between words? Try it… harder then you’d think. I’m just sayin’…

Tree Sculpture Series

It’s like being a vegetarian fur-trader.

I have always had an affinity for trees. The form, the shade, the silent sentinel characteristic. I sit under them, climb them, photograph them. I did my thesis on Dendroanalysis, the chemical composition of tree rings, but my fascination started long before that with the trees I grew up around. The Charlie Brown maple in the front yard, the green, leafy maples that held the cardinals, the 40-foot evergreen that Terry and Robert D scaled fearlessly to string Christmas lights(well, not fearlessly, Terry was shaking the whole time, but determined to reach the top for her nieces, Tia and I), The tall line of pines that swallowed our Nerf foam boomerangs at an alarming rate. When the deer near the house were scraping the bark off the Charlie Brown tree, a cloth-paper strip was wound around the tree like a giant bandage and I remember stroking the wrapped trunk, wondering if it was going to get better and whether or not trees had doctors.

But, almost in defiance of my weakness for trees, my hands and eyes are also drawn to the products of trees, namely books and good, solid works of wood. I love having a score of books in our home library on every subject imaginable. I love running my hand across an table of aged, scraped oak. I love carpentry and woodburning and especially like shaping the wood with hand tools. I guess since I find trees so comforting it is natural that I would feel the same for its products, but I still can’t help but think of it as loving a tree carcass, though.

These two items are the first two in a new series of tree sculptures I will be working on. I often use leaves or tree images in my work, but this is the first time I have worked to reproduce a full tree, in miniature. I am very pleased with the way they turned out and can’t wait to think of the newest medium to make the next sculpture. Stay tuned for more…