All About Uptown

Hello, old friends.

This is still my blog. I know you've been hitting refresh on this page since 2015, like Jesse Eisenberg in the Facebook movie...well today you are in luck. A new post? Yes, a new post. Consciously fewer !'s this time around.

Because I'm old now. I'm getting married, I own a house, I have cats, ache-y feet, and three different vacuums (= old). When you're old like me, you learn that !'s need to earn their place in written language. I can't just go tossing around !'s willy nilly like I'm still 25 years old.

A snowy day, moving into our new Uptown home 

Another result of being elderly: I'm changing things around a bit in this blog. My life has vastly changed since this blog dropped in the ocean nearly 5 years ago, and so the blog will change too.

Ever since I moved back home to Hamilton after university, I've been following #HamONT's cultural revival somewhat from the sidelines. I made sure that my first big girl apartment (no roommate, no OSAP grants paying for my KD & Cable) was in one of the city's cool neighbourhoods - Kirdendall, near Locke Street South. So I lived in a one bedroom apartment on the second floor of a renovated 1930's brick home, a block away from an artisanal cheese shop, a luxury toy store, a florist, and a cupcake shop (also, a gun shop and an discount surplus supply warehouse...less sexy). I loved it.

Then, I met my (soon to be) hubby Steve, we bought a house on the Hamilton mountain, adopted some pets, and started getting a little more interested in the rest of Hamilton. The parts that do not currently get featured in blogs, in Buzzfeed lists, or in articles lauding Hamilton as the 'new Brooklyn'. Which is what the focus this blog will be from now on.

The views - one of many reasons to love #uptown 

Do you have time for a long-winded story from an old coot like me? Cause you are about to get one, sonny.

The house we bought up on the Hamilton Mountain, in the Sunning Hill neighbourhood, actually belonged to my (still living) Great Aunt Mildred. She'd lovingly kept the little 1.5 storey house in amazing condition since it was built in 1942, on land owned by my Great-Grandpa. My own Grandpa also built his home on this land, a house where I made many wonderful memories and which still stands today about a block down the road.

My great-great-great Grandpa John Kerr, was the Fish and Game inspector for the City. He had moved to Hamilton from Northern Ireland in the mid 1800's, and had farmed this same spot of land on the Mountain, built the old Kerr House on the Mountain Brow, and eventually parceled it out to his sons, and their sons.

So our house is actually on land that has been owned by my family for six generations. I find that really, really neat.

With this new found sense of pride in the Mountain, I've been wanting more and more to explore this area of town - my new/old neighbourhood - it's businesses, history, and hidden gems. So...KK's Mountain Magic list coming at ya. Terrible name. Mountain News already exists though. Probably will change the name.

MOUNTAIN MAGIC LIST - to give you an idea of future posts to expect here:

• Uli's Stairs 
• Tartan Toorie
• Neat mountain homes & people
• Harry's Fish and Chips
• All things Concession Street
• The Zoetic Theatre
• Chicago Style Pizza
• Best Mountain Views 
• Biggie's Ice Cream
• Mountain Libraries
• Good walks & parks 
• The old Inclined railway
• Cool and/or new mountain shops and restaurants
• and other good things worth the trek up the ol' Jolley Cut 

Here's What Happened - also, #1: Find an Apartment

Sure haven't been here in a while! But I'll tell you why - I accomplished number one. THE #1. Found an apartment. Kazow! 

So this is my explanation for not writing about it, considering #1 was like my final boss battle on these many lists the last few years. Number One was my Bowser. I've been too busy prepping to move, then moving, and then settling in to write about all the fun. BUT that'll change in the New Year when the chaos subsides. I'm working on another list update - new things, and a new place to do them in! 

But for now, I've got pictures to hang, Christmas presents to wrap, baking to conquer with a tiny, smoky, old oven, and two final boxes of assorted junk to unpack. No time for dillydallying, yo - but I will make time to post this picture: 

   

#68. Drink Sweet Tea on a Hot Day

I’ve always had a fascination with the American south, y’all. Good food, friendly accents,  warm weather…and sweet tea. Last time I went down South was on my Roadtrip to Disney, when we drove through Michigan to Ohio, then Kentucky, then Tennessee, then the long part of Georgia, and finally to sunny Florida. We stopped at probably 10 McDonaldses for pee breaks, lunch, coffees, etc., and that’s where I learned what the deal is with Sweet Tea.

I know it’s probably bad that McDonald’s introduced me to it…but seriously, it is so good. Up here in Canada, ‘iced tea’ is a very strange thing. It comes in a can, and it really…doesn’t taste like anything recognizable. It definitely doesn’t taste like tea (not that it is bad though).

But in the south Sweet Tea is actual brewed tea, with a buttload of sugar in it (probably at McDonald’s it was HF corn syrup which is why I am now addicted). It’s like…sweeter than should be appetizing. And good.

I’ve tried to re-create the taste up here, but it was never quite the same. I thought maybe it was because I was doing it wrong – sweet tea has to be drunk outside, from a big glass with a straw, when it is hot and sunny. And probably you should be wearing a big Kentucky derby-style hat (I didn’t go that far).

Time was ticking – it was already September, and I thought I’d missed my window on the hot day thing, but luckily the weekend after labour day was still hot and summery. So I made the Sweet Tea – and yep tasted better that way. Especially with a good book.

My recipe:

Make some strong-ass Orange Pekoe tea (I used 6 bags of Tetley in one tea pot). Stir in a lot of sugar. Like, almost a 3/4 cup or more, for real. Fill a pitcher with ice, and pour the hot, sweetened tea over. It won’t be cold enough, so refrigerate until it is chilly and drink in a tall glass with ice and a straw. 

#14: Read "Good Omens"

In the Fall of 2011, I read/listened to (I’ve talked about my love of Audible.com before, haven’t I?) this book I’d heard a lot about called American Gods by Neil Gaiman.  I loved it – it was weird, creepy, erratic, smart, and beautifully written. I especially loved the settings Gaiman used, and the perfect way he described them. For example, one day in November I went for a walk in the forest at Eramosa Karst Conservation Area, and I took my phone along so I could listen to the book. It just so happened that as I walked through the cold November forest, I listened to a part where Shadow, the book’s main character, was also making his way through a cold forest, on the run…and Gaiman’s description was more vivid than my actual experience. That’s good writing.

sorta like this pic from http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexey-m/2211405659/

So, I became a Gaimanite. I think that is the term. Basically, I wanted to read anything that had “Neil Gaiman” somewhere on the cover. Next up was The Graveyard Book (loved it ), then Fragile Things (short story collection), then Neverwhere (not my favourite…but still better than many books I’ve read), then Anansi Boys (funnier than American Gods but same style, loved it.) 

When you read a book over 9 months it starts to look a little bit shabby... 

Next up was Good Omens, a collaboration with Terry Pratchett – aka. the guy in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section who has 4 whole shelves to himself full of books with crazy cartoony covers.

I’d heard great things. It is fantasy that is meant to be more funny than epic quest-y, and a couple of my friends even said it is one of their favourite books.

Here’s the deal: so there is an angel, and a demon. And, yeah, they are on opposite sides of the war for human souls and whatnot, but like, that doesn’t mean that they can’t work together sometimes. They even kind of sort of like each other, even though the demon is a slick leather-wearing 80’s bad boy stereotype and the angel is a prissy, antiquated bookworm. Anyways – they both end up getting to work on a project – the project of raising up the Antichrist and ensuring that the Apocalypse, the final battle between Heaven and Hell, can come about. But neither is very good at their job, and they lose the wee bebe Antichrist. Misplace. And very British humour-y hijinks ensue.

Now, I’m pretty firmly a Gaiman fan, that’s not going to change. But…I have to say, this wasn’t my favourite book. I’ve never really read much comedy fiction before, and what I have read I wasn’t all that into (namely, a book called Gods Behaving Badly, which coincidentally is basically the exact same premise as American Gods but is fairly terrible). Some parts were quite funny – especially the dialogue between little bitty Antichrist and his little gang of English children.

I can’t put my finger on why, but I just couldn’t get into this book. It took me probably 8 or 9 months to finish, and it’s really not that long or anything (in the meantime, I finished the Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller; Room by Emma Donahue; Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson; Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn; 14 by Peter Clines;  Mercy by Julie Garwood and Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Fowler, and yes I enjoyed bragging about that list)

It’s not like Good Omens was bad. Not at all! I didn’t like the focus on the jokes. The story was interesting, but now that I’ve finished it I can’t really remember what exactly happened between page 1 and page 398 because it was broken up so many times by joke scenes or by Prachett’s characteristic satirical footnotes to the text. I think I mean that it seemed a bit like a jumble of ideas and characters and jokes that never really came together to make me care about finishing the story.

Still though – everyone go read American Gods and the Graveyard Book and Anansi Boys and probably the Ocean at the End of the Lane (of which I am on page 122) and Stardust (which is next up on my Audible app) 

#57: Get a Facial

Everyone likes a little pampering now and then, and my pamperage of choice this summer was to go get a facial at the mall. 

I signed up for a thing one time at Carol Baker Visage at Limeridge where I'd get free make-up applications (haven't used any...whenever I get professionals to do my make-up I fee like I've been shot in the face with the make-up gun Homer invented) and 50% off facials and a free one on my birthday. Cool deal. 

So at the end of summer, I finally got around to taking advantage of the deal and got a "Summer Sizzler" facial. Observation: 'sizzle' is not a word I would have chosen to describe a skin procedure...

Anyways, it was nice and relaxing, and my skin did look nice afterwards. By no means do I have perfect skin - but it did feel smoother and soft. There was one part where the lady used some crazy tool on my face that reminded me a lot of the little spit-sucking vacuum they use at the dentist, and I had to try really hard to stop myself from laughing. 

The results! Smooth 

#53: Go Camping

Some people might think my kind of camping is not actually camping - people who go for the full-on caveman experience. Catching fish, Swiss Army knife, crap-on-a-tree camping is not for me. 

My kind of camping is going to a designated Provincial Park camp ground, preferably somewhere near a town with a grocery store/pizza place, setting up a pop-up tent, hanging around a campfire with a big group of people, falling asleep warm in my sleeping bag to the sound of nature and a podcast on my phone, waking up to pancakes, bacon, and coffee, and taking a warm shower at the Rest Area 100 metres down the lane.  

This is me first thing in the morning after LIGHT camping. Me after caveman camping would be even more tragic

So that's what I did this summer, and we had a great time despite chilly weather. We went to Presque-Ile Provincial Park on Lake Ontario - which, I learned, is where a notorious great-great-uncle of mine lost his life on his final rum-running spree across the lake. They even had an exhibit about him in the nature centre. FAMOUS!  

Ben Kerr, the Rum-Running Man! Lookin all cool  

My family used to go camping every year with a big group of friends when we were little; we'd reserve 7 or 8 camping lots together, and have basically a big, weekend-long, outdoor party. It was great. 

As the kids all grew up though, the camping tradition faded out. Until last year, that is, when the now adult 'kids' collectively realized: "Hey, camping when we were little was awesome. Now, we can camp and drink beer and stay up late!"  

A tradition we inherited: "Six at Six" (the McMartin family serves Caesars at 6pm) 

The parents all came too, but half of them are too old/cool to do the sleeping on the ground thing and stayed in a nearby motel instead. They came for the food and campfires, and left around midnight.

Dad sleeping with his favourite Tinker Bell blankie 

So for the most part, it was just my sister and me, living out in the woods together for a weekend. We did a pretty good job I think. My proudest moment was making breakfast on the confusing propane stove - bacon and pancakes, and coffee in my French press from Ikea. All the extra effort it took to make just made it taste better. 

My mouth-watering pancakes and bacon breakfast extravaganza!

Jas trying to set up the BBQ 

#77: Finish my Cross-Stitch

When I was really little, the first day of the week I understood was Wednesday, because this was the BEST DAY OF THE WEEK. On Wednesday nights, my Mom's friends (other moms from the neighbourhood) used to come over to my house, have tea in the best glass mugs, and have a 'craft night.' And I could stay up late because we had company. 

So you could say, I had no choice but be inclined towards craftiness. Brownies, Girl Guides, and various art camps didn't help much either. 

I always liked cross-stitch as a craft - mostly because it was really easy to get a hang of, in comparison to knitting or something. I remember my Mom doing cross stitches of kitchy bathroom signs ("If the Soap's Not Wet, You're Not DoneYet!") or pictures of flowers and cats. 

And I still do like cross stitch - but the fairies and precious moments designs aren't for me. I saw a similar one of these ironic cross stitches on Pinterest, and used Cross Stitch Writing Tool to get a pattern for, I think, I very useful phrase to hang on a wall: