My mother-in-law turns 80 today. We celebrated last night with dinner at a restaurant in Old Montreal. We were snug and cosy within its thick stone walls and heavy beams and soft lights. The building was used as a stable almost 300 years ago by the Sisters of Charity or Grey Nuns, and is situated near the original Huron settlement of Hochelaga, discovered by explorer Jacques Cartier in 1535 and Samuel Champlain in 1641. I sat quietly, steeped in the history of this place, and looked out onto the courtyard filled with snow and twinkling lights, happy and blessed to be surrounded by the large family I married into 25 years ago.
We sat with as many family members as could make it. Some were away at university, and some live out of town, but most of us live within a few minutes of each other and so we came together last night to celebrate this incredible mother of five. Her ten grandchildren refer to each other collectively as The Cousins. Whenever an event is planned, the first question is
always, "Are The Cousins going to be there?" They grew up together, played sports together, vacationed and double-dated and laughed and cried together. As their parents, we shared advice and babysitting and recipes and seats on the sidelines of soccer or hockey games. Through the ups and downs of life, we've been there for each other.
And so we wanted to celebrate the matriarch of this wonderful family, and with my husband's permission, here is what he read to his mother at dinner last night.
Dear Mother on Your Birthday,
So often the important things go unsaid. That is to say, we take for granted our thoughts and feelings and assume we are understood by those who are near and dear to us. Tonight, we want to collectively say to you Mother, on your 80th birthday, that we love you.
We have all held you dearly in our hearts each and every day, and we carry the best of you with us. By this I mean that those minutes, hours, days, months and years of care, advice, love and affection did not go wasted or unappreciated.
Your gift of unconditional love and support allowed us to enter forth into the world with joy, optimisim, kindness, affection for others, confidence and a sense of well-being, You have a successful marriage with a good man who loves you, and who was a good moral guide for us. I feel blessed by the experiences of my youth with my brothers, sister and my parents. I attribute my success in life to my family experiences. Thank you.
When I look at the table today, I see the fruit of your endeavors in the world of parenting. I see successful people and many budding successes, your grandchildren, with the youthful energy we all once had. I commend you on your most successful achievement, your family, which is your legacy.
All of us, your children, have had our challenges through out lives. Sometimes there have been tough days. We all have a sense though that we always have each other to count on. When the going gets tough, the family gets going. We all love and respect each other and will continue to alway care for, and help each other. This commitment comes from our own deep inner knowledge that we are safe, and have intrinsic value, and are loved no matter what.
This inner strength has allowed us to be attractive to others. Those of us who have chosen to marry have found love and life partnership to be very fulfilling and joyous. You have won the hearts of our spouses as well.
I also see that we have been able to pass this legacy on to our next generation which has learned through our closeness that family is important. The cousins are a band of brothers and sisters always meant to help and care for each other. They do so each and every day.
At age 80, you may wish to take stock of your life or consider the weight of your achievement in your days here on God's good green earth. What is the impact you have had, what is left behind? If the measure of success in this life is to be measured in the human capital of love, you are a very wealthy woman indeed. We can all assure you that we hold you only in the highest esteem and with love in our hearts.
to this:
Warm, soft, heavy, woolen goodness around my neck. It makes me want to jump around like Tom Hanks in CASTAWAY after he figures out how to make fire. Now I need another project. I'm bereft of the tactile pleasure that comes with a knitting project on the go.
I promised to post a recipe for a non-yeast quick bread and this is one of my favourites. It's really easy to make, and it goes well with soup or stew. It's delicious the next day with butter and jam. It freezes well, too.
I knit last night while watching TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. So many great moments in that movie, no? Of course the court scene is a standout with 
Haven't given up yet. No ball of wool is going to order me around, no sir. You guys are so supportive and kind and have offered some really helpful suggestions so I don't want to let you down. So if I can find the knitting needles out of the snowbank in the back yard, I will keep knitting, I promise!
The more rows I lashed onto my needles (with my clever new knit one row purl one row technique) the more it started curling up onto my hands like a Keswick gal's bangs on prom night. I thought it was because I was pulling the wool too tight. One of the reasons knitting never worked out for me in the past was my tension. I'd have those stitches pulled so tight there was no way for a needle to pass under them. My fingers cramped up and I'd hunch over and sweat and I'm sure it looked like I was torturing some poor animal to death in my hands. Maybe it was the tension that was the problem!
Perfect if I want a gnarly wool sheath to decorate my curling iron, but definitely not scarf material. I pulled the latest rows out AGAIN.
It fits me perfectly and is soft and warm and heavy and fits perfectly on my giant head (I'd like to think it's because of my giant brain, but we seem to be blessed with giant heads in our family and having met some of my relatives, I can say with some confidence it is not always our giant brains which accounts for our giant heads....)
Good idea in theory. In practice, not so much. Last night, as we stood waiting for the train to take Youngest back to school, she showed me how to "cast on" which was accomplished, then we did the old "knit two purl two" in order to get rows of ribbing. Okaaaaay. After hunching myself into a dither and stiffening my shoulders to the point I couldn't move my left arm, all the while with Youngest directing me to go left no no, right, no around no no back yesss there you've got it (she is a great teacher and has more patience and understanding than I could ever hope for) I got about three rows in and declared myself taught. Ta da. I'd just go home and keep doing exactly what she taught me. How hard could it be? (Whenever I say those words, and I say them often, I always regret it....)
