We spent the weekend on Vancouver Island, visiting my sister, brother-in-law, and nephews in their new home.

People from Vancouver probably shouldn’t be allowed to travel. It stirs up house-envy. Halfway through the weekend I decided my life would be significantly happier if I had just one more kitchen drawer, and would probably be perfect if I had a pantry.

Outside the kitchen, though, it was a lovely weekend. We went beach combing and mini-golfing, and stopped for lunch in Coombs. On Sunday morning, we visited the North Island Wildlife Recovery Association, which was amazing. There were all sorts of recovering birds and rescued creatures, including this guy:

And, temporarily, this guy:

The association rescued eight bear cubs and released them last year.

We returned on the ferry yesterday afternoon, so it’s back to rehabilitating words for me this morning, with no bears in sight. But I did just send off a book idea which included bears. Does that count?

Also, I’m entering my own rehabilitation re: the kitchen pantry issue. It’s a twelve-step program.

My mom makes the most amazing quilts for my kids. Over the years there have been quilts with baby ducks, with fairies that actually sparkled, with circus animals, and with trucks. There’s a hanging quilt for Christmas, and a Halloween one with a witch that we’re pretty sure was modelled upon Auntie Sandy (sorry, Sandy).

This is my personal favourite. Behind every buttoned door hides a different monster.

I’m not sure what my mom thinks happens to these quilts when she replaces them. I should probably be framing them. But instead, they’re folded and stacked on my daughter’s window seat or on my son’s closet shelf. And from there, they make their way into all sorts of projects. They have served as:

Fort walls
Picnic blankets
Treehouse ceilings
Yoga mats
Nerf gun targets
Sliding surfaces
Crash landing pads
Electonics workshop carpeting

If I were a picture-book writer, I’d have to create The Secret Life of Quilts.

We went to the PNE yesterday. By the time we headed home, my daughter was curled into a small ball and looking rather more green than her usual beige. But she wasn’t too sick to rhyme. This is what we heard from the backseat:

Hellevator, Atmosfear,
crazy pirate boat.
Nothing did me in until
the giant root beer float.

1. It is raining. In July. Again. And yet, the drought last year was so disturbing I can’t fully commit to complaining about this year’s weather. How very un-Vancouverite of me.

2. My kid is puking. She came home from camp on Monday with a virus, and things took a turn for the worse this morning. On the bright side, my child is twelve and capable of grabbing her own bowl when required. I am reminded to be grateful for this by my sister’s Facebook post from earlier this week:

3. My site has grown beyond its allowable size. I thought I found a way to search for images that weren’t being used, but ended up deleting my header photos. Which is unfortunate because I love those photos, but probably a good kick in the butt as well, since the same headers have been rotating for years now. I will now be taking new photos, and maybe deleting posts from (gasp) 2010. Change is good. I hope.

I think I’ll go read Pollyanna now. Does that book have a happy ending? I can’t remember…

Min dropped our recently-turned-12 daughter at the gates of the PNE on Friday and drove away. That seems crazy to me. How is she old enough to go on a roller coaster by herself? It was a youth group event, from 7 until midnight, but we picked her up at 9:30. She was so thrilled we’d let her go, she didn’t complain about the early pick-up.

Though we did have this conversation:

Me: What time are your friends staying ’til?

Her: Eleven.

Me: Eleven!!

Her: Their mom’s at a play until 10:30, so she couldn’t pick them up until 11 anyway.

Me: Next year you can stay until 9:35.

All this independence is a scary thing (for me), but I love this age. The kids are exploring so much on their own, Min and I have shifted away from being activity supervisors and towards something more like emergency crash-pad operators, or safe-house supervisors.

And so far, they still seem to like us. So far…

The whole family went to the Vancouver Mini Maker Faire on Sunday. It was incredible. There were robot-builders and drone-flyers, quilters and wool-spinners, rocket-ship launchers and jewelry crafters. There were people who made things in forges, and people who made things from moulted parrot feathers.

If zombies take over the Earth, these are the people you’ll want to know. (Okay, maybe not the parrot people.)

This is me with James McCann, who was manning the Richmond Public Library booth and creating the Eiffel Tower on a 3D printer (as one does).

Coincidentally, James has his own zombie apocalypse novel coming out in a couple weeks. Which I’m going to read for survival tips, as I’ve now confirmed that I have no useful skills once the power grid goes.