Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Hockey Night In Canada: Project #1 - Dog beds

My husband is occupied several nights a week, watching hockey. He swears up and down that I used to watch hockey with him, but I think I was just pretending, back when we were dating. I have a lot of boring winter nights during hockey season, so this year, I'm going to find myself a project every week.

I couldn't bring myself to pay $160 for new dog beds. My mom bought the last ones a couple of years ago when she found a great deal on them.

Most dog beds present a few problems:
  1. They are expensive!
  2. They aren't big enough.
  3. They are covered with ugly fabric. 
  4. You can't wash the inside part, only the cover, if you're lucky.
  5. They aren't waterproof in any way, in case of wet dogs etc.
So, I decided to make my own damn dog beds!

First, I picked up a roll of thick foam for around $20 and cut it in half. Then, I bought a couple of vinyl table cloths at the dollar store, where I also bought two curtain panels for $15. I wrapped the foam in the vinyl like I was wrapping a gift, and secured it with packing tape. Next, I measured the fabric by wrapping it around the foam and leaving a bit extra. I basically sewed a big pillow case by sewing down one long edge and then sewing both layers together to form a pocket. Then I just slipped the cover over the foam. Easy! It took me about 2 hours total and cost under $30.

Here is Sweetie, refusing to get on her new bed for a photo:



During this project, I lost my one and only bobbin for my sewing machine and had to run back out to the dollar store on the corner. They only had a big package of like 900 pre-threaded bobbins for $1. I love Chinatown. I have no idea how I will ever live without a grocery store and a dollar store in my backyard. I also have no idea when I will use up all those bobbins...

When I went in the store, the lady asked me if I wanted a banana. I swear, this is the third time a stranger has offered me a banana this year.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

The Butcher's Daughter

I am determined to roast a chicken and bake bread this weekend. As we were walking home from brunch, we popped into St. Andrew's Poultry in Kensington Market (lovely and clean, smells like freshly bleached laundry). I spotted free range, hormone-free chickens, two for $18. Wonderful!

And then I see that they still have their feet attached. And I need to lie down.

My husband says "is that what you want?" and I say "let's just get those other ones," and he says "why?" He takes a look and says "oh." Then, brave soul he is, he says to the butcher, "can you cut off their feet for her? Once she didn't eat chicken for a whole year because she saw one with feet in Chinatown." The butcher says "sure, I'll ask Carlos* to do it...do you want their heads?"

Oh for the love of Oprah! No, I don't want their heads! By now, I am near the front of the store, pretending to look at beans. Jason says "I don't think she wants their heads," and Carlos says "ok, no feet, no heads." Perfect. I try to imagine the chickens having happy lives in some sunny barnyard, I mean at least I'm buying chickens who lived like chickens, right? And I go to the cash register.

The other butcher takes our decapitated chickens to the front, and as I'm getting ready to pay, Carlos trots up to the front with a bag and says "here's your heads and feet." I feel myself go pale.

Jason looks at me and says, "it's an animal. So much for The Butcher's Daughter."

I know, I know. I was a vegetarian for several years, primarily to piss off my father ("do you want to put your dad out of a job?"). It was awesome. Most planet-friendly teenage rebellion ever.

*His name is not Carlos, I didn't catch his name. But he looked like a Carlos.