cdcd and Next Gen Love

I can't claim that 2015 was a very successful year for me on the blogosphere. After a couple of months of trying to find a balance between themes of reading, sewing, gardening, and general domestic feats, I quickly became distracted by Instagram, its ease of updating, and its browse-ability. My daughter became more aware of the world around her, and consequently, the time during which I could plug away on my phone became limited to her sleeping hours. When fall came I wanted to newly commit to the blog, but found myself in one of those periods of time where you lose someone dear to you, and you feel your life changing. In October I started the process of trying to redefine life in this new world without my father, a process which I imagine will continue for years.

Several years ago I opened an Etsy shop under the name cdcd, which stood for "Canadian Dad, Canadian Daughter." While the shop itself never made a sale and rarely had any listings, I am still satisfied with the concept behind it. The name, a private poem to myself, was motivated by the shifting meanings that evolve from one generation to the next, whether referring to the life of a good (such as a physical thing), or a person. While my father was born in Germany and would fondly refer to Koln as "home," there were many elements of his personality that made him more Canadian than German. Although I called him "Papa" instead of "Dad," and he only obtained his Canadian citizenship within the last 10 years of his life, his immigration and our relationship embraced the casual attitude that helps Canadians define themselves as they wish, rather than adhering to pre-defined traditions that lay out the way things "should be." For the store, my concept was to reuse discarded materials to make new products, such as books into journals, which is an obvious regeneration of the old into the new. Sometimes the old into the new doesn't actually involve a physical transformation. Generations shift. For the banner, I was able to use a picture of my father and his friends from Germany, before he immigrated in the 1950s.

As I continue to read, sew, garden, and attempt to manage their competing time constraints on domestic life, I will be moving this blog to another location, which may or may not manage to capture some of these same connections. While cdcd quietly awaits further direction, I will be moving the blog over to NextGenLove.ca within the next few weeks. I hope to steadily document some of the changing ways I live within my space, and with my family, in 2016.

Men who buy too many turkeys

 We just finished a week of eating turkey. A 16 pound bird fed six people dinner on Sunday night, my husband and I dinner four nights this week, and lunches for me every day. Plus I've got three turkey pot pies in the freezer. I am starting to understand why my father buys too many turkeys.

This was my first turkey, and was given to me by my father last year after he bought too many turkeys to fit in their deep freezer. He buys them after Christmas when they are cheap, and in 2013 found it impossible to stop. It started when someone in the meat department messed up the pounds to kilos conversion while calculating the price match, erring in his favour. When he tells the story, he talks about how more turkeys was all he could think about. He couldn't enjoy his beer. He was compelled to return to the store. 

This time another store employee messed up the conversion while price matching. Getting a discount and reaffirming his belief that the Canadian education system failed us in developing our math skills? That is a good day, friends. It's hard to believe he has only been price matching a couple of years; his first price match was legendary, but that is a story for another day.

This year he was banned from buying any more turkeys, by my poor mother who eats turkey soup day in, day out. As my father's daughter, I'm already looking forward to the week after Easter.