two roads project :: closeup

closeup

Johanna (left): At this age in my life, birthdays start to be less about the hoopla and attention, and more about meaningful connections and introspective thinking. 
Yesterday was my birthday and my big request was for butter chicken (with naan and basmati) and carrot cake for dessert. I woke up to many happy birthdays from Noah and Katia, and enjoyed opening my cards over a delicious breakfast of pumpkin waffles. I received phone calls and emails...it was just the right amount of celebration. 
Birthdays have a way of getting me to look at my over all life. How are we doing here? Am I happy right now in my life? Is there anything missing? 
In the New Year we hope to be moving on to a new posting, in a different part of the country. This big change on the horizon gives me hope and excitement, for the new changes that will surely unfold. 
With a big move stewing in the back of my mind, I think about what I want next for myself, for my family, for a home. I know that there are certain things lacking right now that I will want to fill in (a church or spiritual community, extra activities for the kids, more culture), but I also know that there are many beautiful lifestyle attributes (slow living, lots of family time, close connections to nature) that I will want to continue as we move on. 
There is hope and anticipation and possibility. There is the chance to look inward. There is the opportunity for change. And I am looking forward to it all.

Sarah (right): When I am old and my memory is fading, I hope I remember the intimacy of family. The smell of my babies' fluffy scalps as they rested heavy on my chest. The rough bristles on the nape of Rich's neck as I run my hands over it. The freckles, the sleep noises, the split-second expression I see: things only I notice. I want to remember Hailey and Robin's identical ponytails. Each day they wear their bangs this way, in floppy ponytails tied with impossibly small elastics atop their little heads. The contrast of sun-bleached white hairs against suntanned forehead skin. The wispy, airy feel of hair that has never been cut. The curls at the end, corkscrew tight in the back. These two little heads come running at me and collapse into my lap. I find myself staring down onto these little ponytails as we read another story, cut fingernails, slide on shoes. These are the things I hope flash before my eyes in my life's montage, evoking a powerful feeling of love found in the most minute of places.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project :: comfort

comfort

Sarah (left): What brings me comfort? Warmth, familiarity, ritual. As the season turns and I begin to look ahead to a time of preparation, I return to some traditions of comfort. As I noticed the first inklings of cooler nights and crisp mornings, I have slowly begun welcoming warm comfort foods back into our meal rotation. This week, Abby suggested we use some of our tomatoes to make Johanna's famous tomato soup. I jumped at the chance to use some of our garden bounty, and we had a jar of homemade chicken broth in the fridge waiting for just such an occasion. Abby helped me pick some ripe tomatoes, and that evening I blanched, peeled and crushed them for the soup. I picked some basil from our plants, and spent a quiet evening listening to a podcast of CBC's Tapestry while I diced onion, crushed garlic and stirred simmering soup. The next day at lunch, we made some grilled cheese sandwiches, and poured everyone a bowl of soup. I think it was the first time the twins had ever been served soup, as the idea of the mess daunted me last winter! Rich enjoyed his in a stone chowder mug I picked up for him in Maine, because he likes best to sip his soup. Abby, of course, informed me she didn't care for tomatoes and didn't want any, but she relinquished eventually, tried some, and finished her bowl. Hmm.

Johanna (right): With Noah now in school for the afternoons, Katia and I get to spend some special time together, just the two of us. 
Yesterday we tried our hand at a delicious tomato basil bread recipe. 
The scent of the basil (fresh from the garden) as we chopped it up was so delicious. 
The feeling of kneading the dough was comforting and rhythmic. 
The warmth from the oven, the coziness of the kitchen. 
There is something so comforting about homemade bread. 
I used to think that bread was one of those impossibly difficult things to make.  But after a few lessons and a very good everyday whole wheat bread recipe thanks to Sarah, we now enjoy homemade bread every week.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes here. 

two roads project :: corner

corner

Johanna (left): One way for my life to feel a little less chaotic, is to be organized and to have a tidy home. We try so hard to stay on top of it, but I find that it can quickly get away from us.
One of my favourite ways to feel a breath of fresh air in the house, is to organize/declutter and set up a little "corner" ... or display if you will. 
I often like to include a nod to what season it is, through art, flowers or little nature treasures that we find on our walks. 
Being that it is summer, I have so very much enjoyed how we are able to flow in and out of our house so easily. 
The children often bound out the front door, onto our front lawn, where they play with a little fairy house that I have set up for them. 
I enjoyed setting up and organizing, this little "corner" right by our front door. Nestled in among potted flowers, a tree stump, and clover, it makes me happy just looking at it... and happier still when I find Katia playing with it. 

Sarah (right): I don't have a designated workspace or office per se, but I do have a couch corner that I have transformed into my office. Through rituals of setting up the pillow just so, leaving a warm tea on the wooden end table beside me that I never drink, perching my MacBook or notepaper on my cushioned laptop desktop, and turning on background jazz, I am firmly established in my own little corner. These days I am ramping up to tackle a freelance project the likes of which I haven't toyed with before, and I frequently return to my figurative drawing board to gauge which story ideas would make suitable pitches for publication. Today, I am using my corner to read. I have the luxury of being self-employed and controlling my workload, and I have found that in order to keep the gateways of creativity open, I must make time to read. For fun. Nothing parenting-related, not articles on why yoga is important, but good novels, exploratory non-fictions that enlighten me. To the couch with me! I've got a meeting with Donna Tartt!

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

sunset

Johanna (left): The long drive home from Whitehorse always gives me time to think and ponder about things. Heading West, and often driving home in the evening, we drive straight into the sunset, and it often gives us a beautiful show.
I welcomed our long five hour drive home after a busy three days in Whitehorse. Luckily, I was accompanied by my husband this trip in (a rare treat, I often drive without him), and it was nice to have that uninterrupted time together.
As we watched the sunset go down, many things crossed my mind.  With no internet, no 3G (although I don't have a smart phone anyways), I was able to sit back, think and rest. My mind went in and out of ideas and thoughts. I thought of my family who are missing their boy oh so much, of friends who are moving on in life exciting ways, best friends who are having birthdays. The slow and steady drive home is a lovely way to catch up with my thoughts.

Sarah (right): Tonight, the sun sets, in a big, metaphoric way. This is the last time I will nod off to sleep with a baby in the house. Tomorrow, when the sun creeps back up across the horizon, my littlest girl will have turned one. She walks, she talks, she waves and claps. She eats with us at the table, and carries a sippy cup wherever she goes. She still nurses with me a few times a day, and you better believe I'm holding on to that until she decides we're done. No rush. Because that's it. Sun set. The baby days are memories past and the dawn of a new journey begins. In the quiet darkness tonight, between sunset and sunrise, I will be revelling in the in-between. I will bake a birthday cake, I will sing to myself, I will meditate on this exact moment and feel it. The fleeting darkness is finite, and chase it as I may, tomorrow is coming.

Due to my total lack of organization, this post is a wee bit late. Sarah's post was written on the eve of Summer's birthday (July 26th). Sorry. 

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes here. 

two roads project :: make

:: make 

Sarah (left): I spent the afternoon carefully arranging the layers of my sister's birthday cake. She is turning 20, entering into the decade most spend "figuring it out," and "finding" themselves. I am so excited for her, and for myself. I will get to witness her growth, and be here cheering her on, with her nieces. When it came to celebrating her big day, I decided to go decadent. I made this Better Than You-Know-What cake, that I pinned from here. I cooked the caramel sauce from scratch, broke the Skor bars in a bag with a hammer, and added confetti sprinkles on the top to make it a real birthday treat. The house smelled amazing while cake cooled, and everyone asked me repeatedly when we could eat it. We ate it around my grandma's dining table, digging in with our forks (and hands, in some cases), licking our lips and leaving hardly a piece for the birthday girl to take home afterwards. 

Johanna (right): This week has been about making summer memories. 

Feeling restless and bored, I decided to come into Whitehorse for a few days, to stay with Leanne and for the kids to have some fun. 
On the way into town, we pulled over by beautiful Kluane Lake. We had never been down to the shore and while it added a bit of extra time to the trip, it was worth it to me. Ice cream was had in Haines Junction. We never get to go out for ice cream. The kids were over the moon.
Once in Whitehorse, we did a little road trip to Carcross, went to see a movie (HTTYD2), had a picnic while listening to live music at Art in the Park, went to the Farmer's Market (and had cupcakes) and more. More than once, I heard Noah say, " this is a very special day, isn't it Mommy?". 

Yes, it has been special. There may have been a bit of spoiling, but we don't usually get to do these things and I wanted the kids just to feel like it was a special time. Making summer memories is so worth it to me. 

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here.  

two roads project :: afternoon

afternoon

Johanna (left): Afternoons are all about striking a balance. 
With school out for the summer, I find that I am trying to meet both Noah and Katia's needs, and right now we are sort of out of a rhythm. 
While Katia is used to napping in the afternoon, Noah is used to going to school. She craves a quiet, restful time, while Noah needs to be entertained and engaged. 
We've been spending time in the afternoon doing both. 
We swim for an hour every afternoon, and often take a walk with Ryder. Sometimes naps happen early in the afternoon, sometimes later. It is summer after all, so I am trying to let go of the idea of a schedule, and instead, just let the kids tell me what they need and want. 

Sarah (right): I'd like to say that when 1:00 rolls around, I put my feet up, open a book and chilllllll out. What really happens during the girls' nap time, is I capitalize on the time I have to get things done around the house without my little helpers at my side. I get house chores done, fix what needs fixing, and prepare dinner. Making dinner at 4:00 with a bunch of hungry little ladies crying, whining, flailing at my feet is not a fun way to cook. So, I make their supper while they take their siestas, taking my time. This way, we get to eat home-cooked whole foods and avoid the frantic hour before suppertime. I usually listen to a podcast, letting the recipe develop with new additions, substitutions, a lot of experimenting. Today, I prepared a tomato sauce for tomorrow's pizza: onions, carrots, garlic, tomatoes, tomato paste, oregano, fresh basil from the garden, salt, pepper and a little brown sugar. I simmered it, and then pureed it, (because I absolutely cannot leave any chunks of anything or risk facing the mutiny of the five-year-old). It's a good batch, this one. 

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here.  

two roads project

Sarah (left): 
There aren't a lot of places in my house where I can find quiet. With four little girls with a lot to say (and shriek), not five minutes go by without relentless calls for, "Mama! Mommy! Mom!" But when a warm rain came down this week, and the girls wanted to puddle jump, I found some quiet. Under my um-ber-ella, ella, ella. Just for a few minutes, when the rain poured down hard and fast, all I could hear was the staccato rhythm of raindrops. The girls swished back and forth in the puddles with their knee-high rubber boots, getting gleefully soaked to the bone. I inhaled deep that great rainy smell, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Johanna (right): Like a sanctuary, our community  greenhouse offers us all a peaceful place to grow and tend to our gardens. 
I like to go in there, after supper, all on my own. I take the time to weed, water and reflect on how well my plants are doing. It is a moment of my day where there is no noise, there are no distractions. It's a place and a time where I can let me my wander, let myself become quiet and slow down. And the more I think about the day to day stresses, the busyness that goes on in the world, the more I am thankful for this quiet little refuge. 

*I also want to note today that as wives to Mounties ourselves, Johanna and I are deeply saddened and grieve the loss of three Mounties in Moncton this week. We really are a very tight-knit community, and these types of situations hit us hard. We stand as one. This week, three RCMP families did not get to greet their police officers coming home a the end of a shift, and that is our collective worst nightmare. 

For a glimpse into what it's like, please read, "What We Saw."

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here.   

two roads project

flowers

Sarah (left): Walt Whitman wrote a sad poem, wherein he writes, "the lilac tall, and its blossoms of mastering odour." Aren't they, though? If our sense of smell is a gateway to memories hidden long ago, then lilacs are my port key to running along the Rideau Canal in university, inventing games with my brother in Grama's backyard, somersaults out front of my childhood home. They are part of the landscape in my personal narrative. If ever you have passed a bush in full bloom, you know the fragrance is powerful. In our new home, I am treated to wafts of lilac when breezes blow through our neighbour's yard and carry the scent into my open windows. Whenever I smell them, I get a feeling of having arrived. It is confirmation that, indeed, the long winter is over and warm, sunny days are here to be enjoyed. 

Johanna (right): After a long and dark winter, you know that summer is here, when the wildflowers begin to pop up. 

On our walks, we spot lupines and today I spotted some wild strawberry flowers. 

It is short, this season we call summer, but at the same time, the days are long. During the days, we play hard - running, biking, digging in the dirt and our days never seem to end with the midnight sun that keeps us up way past our bedtimes. I love how the wildflowers here act as little gifts. They pop up, so strong and hearty, and delight us with their bursts of colours.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

Johanna (left): Play is so essential to a little one. It's problem solving, it's rationalizing, it's understanding, it's making sense of their world. 
My boy is one creative soul. On a daily basis, he imagines that he is a spy, a cat, a super hero ... you name it. He invents and comes up with ideas, and to me, I can see that his play is so very important to the person that he is becoming. 
Here he was with his dad. Building a magnificent tower with legos. Adding pieces, telling a story, making a world up in his imagination. 

Sarah (right): One of the many benefits to having children is watching how they play. I am fascinated by watching how it develops. In infancy, the play is largely sensory exploration. Then, they walk, and chase and play peek-a-boo. These days, I see Abby create elaborate scenes with her friends, with dress-up, role play, song and dance numbers, the sky's the limit. Hailey and Robin have built-in playmates. They have a constant companion, day and night. I hear them giggle and run and play until they fall asleep, well past their bedtime in their shared room  Today, on a sunny afternoon, after we picked up Abby from school, we played out front. Robin wore her Afghani princess dress for the sixth day in a row, hopped into her Little People coupe, and got into a fender-bender with her mama's Caravan. Hailey ran up to check the damage, and then drew with chalk. Abby continues kicking her soccer ball and Summer chewed on some mulch. Just another afternoon of play.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

Mornings

Johanna (left): Mornings around here are a blur. I am just not a morning person (unless I received enough sleep the night before, which rarely seems to happen). Mornings are sleepy eyes and cuddles on the couch. Mornings are comfy jammies from the night before. 
Mornings are busy. Mornings are my kid's most energetic time of day (well actually, they are pretty energetic all day!). Mornings are hit the floor running for Noah and Katia, and drag my feet for me. 
Mornings are cartoons on in the back ground, and one last adult conversation before hubby heads out the door. 
Mornings are cups of milk and peanut butter and jam on toast (cut into strips if you care). Mornings are strong cups of coffee, made in my Bodem, a little luxury that gets me through my morning and into the afternoon. 

Sarah (right): Five days a week, our mornings are geared towards an apex, a culminating act: getting Abby to school on time. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, I strap Summer onto my chest, plop Hailey and Robin into the stroller, attach the leash to Skylar's collar and hold Abby's hand as we walk down the street to school. Does that make me sound more like an octopus than a human? It certainly feels that way most mornings! We eat breakfast by 8:00, dress by 8:30 and start getting into outdoor gear. I am really looking forward to the day that means hats, sunglasses and sandals. Then at quarter to nine, we're all out the door. Today, it was a rainy walk. A puddle-jumping, hair-frizzing foray into the mist. I complain about the rainy days, but the way we feel so cozy and bundled together is actually kind of special.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

Sarah (right): It's that time again, and I think I've run out of excuses: spring cleaning time is here. Two years ago, the twins were just a few months old and still required round-the-clock attention, so not a lot of spring cleaning was accomplished. Last year, I was pregnant with Summer, and preparing to move. This year? We're in a new house, there are some cobwebs to dust out, and though we have a few (cute) distractions to deal with, we're on a spring cleaning mission. That mission looks like three typed pages of lists. Things like: oil door hinges, beat carpets, Shop Vac the garage floor, launder pillows and duvets, clean out the fridge. That sort of thing. It's not really fun, but it's rewarding. We are living in our dream house. It'll be ours to pay for over a great many years, but it is ours. So in taking care of it, daily, weekly, monthly, seasonally, we are investing in its care, hoping that by treating it well, it will continue to do its part keeping us warm through long winters and shelters from the summer sun. 

Johanna (left):  Because our home is where we spend the majority of our time over the winter, it really does need a good deep clean and purge. 
Spring cleaning means: opening the windows and doors to let the fresh air in, windex on the windows (inside and out) to let the sun light in, sweeping and sweeping some more in our front mud room, making piles - one for the Sally Ann and one for a garage sale we plan to have, and an Earth Day neighbourhood clean up with the kids. 
After months of being cooped up inside, we are now spending half if not more, of our days outdoors. The daylight has returned and it is bright till at least 10pm at night. And now that we have the space to move around more, I am clearing and decluttering our space.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

Sarah (right): 10 Things Readers May or May Not Know About Me

1- I try to heal most ailments myself: Case in point, I am currently fighting a flu bug. I am treating myself with magnesium detox baths, immunity-boosting smoothies (lemons, ginger, carrot juice, honey), sleep, liquids and Advil for when the fever symptoms take over. My kids get a spoonful of honey as cough syrup and would have to be pretty sick to be taken to the doctor. I just like at-home remedies more than I like the cesspool of infection in doctor waiting rooms.

2- I have gone scuba diving with sharks. 

3- I have seen a positive pregnancy test six times.

4- I met Rich at a new year's keg party in high school. We have never broken up, nor had relationships with anyone else. 

5- Grilled cheese is probably my favourite food ever. I remember the thrill of ordering it in restaurants as a child, eager to see how it would come out. Still do, really.

6- I followed the Yukon Quest sled-dog race as a reporter my first winter up North. It changed my view of the Yukon, and shaped my time there.

7- I am snarky and sarcastic when defensive.

8- I have a hard time making new friends. But when I do, you're in for life.

9- I wake up early almost every morning to write freehand, stream-of-consciousness style. It helps clear my head, figure out what I really feel about issues in my life, and start the day with some creative me time.

10- I've met celebrities Sam Roberts and Elizabeth Gilbert.

Johanna (left): 10 Things Readers May or May Not Know About Me

1. Growing up, my mother told me that we had gypsy blood in us. I think this is why I like adventure, road trips and to travel. If I don't keep moving, I feel trapped. 

2. I am a complete political junkie. I grew up in the nation's capital and enjoy following politics, just as some might enjoy following celebrities.
3. I am happiest when I am near the ocean.
4. I've lived in 5 provinces/territories in Canada. I've traveled to 9 of them. 

5. I'm so not a morning person.
6. I am part extrovert and part introvert and need both types of socialization equally. 

7. I like movies and books that make me happy. Not ones that leave me depressed or scared or with nightmares. You've Got Mail is still one of my favourite flicks. 
8. Coffee in the morning. Tea in the afternoon. Wine in the evening. 
9. I go to church. I have many questions about faith in general and am not sure where I stand on the religion scale, but I love the peace and clarity that I get from quieting my mind and from being around like minded individuals. 
10. I chose out my baby names when I was 16. Yes, I am that kind of person. I still have a few more names chosen, just in case we need them ;) 

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

throwback

Johanna (left): The power of a friendship that goes back some thirty years. This is something that I don't take for granted or lightly. I am blessed to have someone who has known me every step of the way and who has shown me love throughout those years. 
This was taken on an Easter weekend, sometime in the early 80s. Hanging out in the back yard with some rickety old play structure. We are happy to play outside for hours. 
Sarah (right): I had fun looking back through old family photos this week. I have happy memories of a childhood spent bossing my younger siblings around, taking dance classes, being dramatic and forging friendships that continue today. Remembering moments captured on film encourages me to romanticize a little, recalling funny stories, idyllic vacations, picturesque Christmases. Of course, there were sad moments, and we didn't take pictures of those. But remembering the summer I played house league soccer and the dress up games we played in the basement conjures familiar feelings of comfort, happiness and a sense of belonging. Knowing where I came from is such a helpful tool in helping me navigate where I'm going. Here, I am nine years old, posing proudly with my new baby sister and probably right about to roll my eyes at my annoying little brother. This is pre-braces, I was growing my bangs out, and was a tall, lanky thing. We're all in our jammies, as we called our pyjamas. And check out that steel contraption of a baby swing! I keep this particular picture in a stolen frame (from a now defunct Ottawa bar) in my kitchen cabinet, so I can check in on it and smile every once in awhile.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

Sarah writes here. 

two roads project

ritual

Johanna (left): There is one family tradition that I felt was important to carry on for my 

little family, and that is the ritual of saying a blessing at dinner time. 
As a little girl, we would always say a blessing before meal time, and the significance was always there for me. 
Holding hands, slowing down, saying thank you for our blessings, I knew that I wanted this to be a daily practice in our home. 
These days, we say our blessing not in the most conventional sense. Sometimes we sing Johnny Appleseed. Sometimes we forget at the beginning of a meal and say it half way through. Sometimes the kids are too hungry and start eating before we say it. But all that doesn't matter. To me, it is the act that matters. Just the simple gesture and pause. And I look forward to it everyday. 

Sarah (right): It has stuck with me since childhood. You know the little nursery rhyme: "Starlight, start bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." I can remember my Dad, bent down to meet me at eye level, looking out my bedroom window with me, into the night sky. He taught me the little song and showed me how to wish. The magic inherent in the wish is only activated if it is recited on the very first star I see. So be it: I can be driving, leaving an event, in a parking lot and when I look up and see it is a clear night, I stop what I am doing, and focus on the first star that catches my eye. I say it softly, to myself. I always will. It's a silly little ritual, but it gives me a reason to stop, slow down and send a wish out to the universe. I am superstitious, you won't be surprised to learn, so I cannot tell you for what I wish, but it's the same wish every time. My little secret.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).

two roads project

roots

Johanna (left): This week I had the chance to watch my little boy eat adobo (a traditional Filipino dish), made by his Filipino Great Grandmother (Lola). While to some, it might have been just another moment in the day, I felt like it needed to be recorded. Whether he knows it or not, he is taking in these moments with his family and is filing them away as part of his history. What a gift both my children have been given, to have this time with their extended family (on both sides) and to get to know who they are in a greater sense.  I want both Noah and Katia to be proud of their cultural backgrounds and to know where they come from ( a family of many colours and backgrounds). 

Sarah (right): When I was little, my family members used to tell me I looked so much like my Nannie. When I hand drew birthday cards, or hung another watercolour on the fridge, people would remark, "An artist, just like your Nannie." I loved this. I loved being compared so endearingly to our family matriarch, a woman who was held in such high esteem by everyone in my life that mattered. She was a locally famous artist, who painted mostly flowers and still life watercolours, and a poet. My Nannie died when I was nine years old, but I carry a piece of her with me. Her paintings hang around my house, reminding me of her. As an adult, and an artist, I feel her in my roots. She is there in my foundation, a key nutrient in my blooming soul. When I feel especially tapped into my creative side, I wonder if she felt the same surge of inspiration in her brushstrokes as I find in my pen on my paper. I sign my paintings in my maiden name, "S. Gilmour,", as tribute to her. I return to my paper when I don't feel like writing anymore, in honour of her dedication to her art. She left us a long time ago, but I count my lucky stars to be her descendent.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes at Cure For Boredom.

two roads project

hands 

Sarah (right): One of my earliest happy memories is of my grandma's hands: gently tracing lines on my back and rustling the hair behind my ears slowly as I fell asleep. I relate those memories with primal feelings of safety, comfort, peace. Before I even knew what those things were, I felt them in her touch. My grandma's hands are her maps, lines forming roadways and paths that illustrate where she's journeyed, and how long she's travelled. She shares them lovingly with us, her grandchildren and now with my daughters. Summer, (who is named after her), has been held by those same hands that worked a farm in the Great Depression, raised two babies, handled money for the bank, held her passport while she travelled widely, clasped her husband's hands until he died, gardened, and stroked my sleepy head as a girl. Grandma's hands continue to bake and cook for my family, hold my babies while I attend to other matters, pour my tea at the end of the day. My girls too are learning her hand's geography, the ways of their gentle touch.

Johanna (left): Being back in Ottawa with family has been good for us. If nothing else, just being around the ones that we love (and who love us), is good for our souls. One particular family member who we've enjoyed spending our time with is Meeka, the family dog. 
Growing up, I had a wonderful dog named Susie, who Meeka reminds me of. She was gentle and smart and patient with us. While here, I've been taking the time to get my cuddles in with Meeka, and so have the children. I think the relationship between dogs and humans can be so real and bare. It's been nice to have that kind of connection once again. and 
In this picture, I can see the love that Katia has for Meeka. Her hand gently touching Meeka's soft and curly fur. Their sizes, comparable to each other. The pure love and connection that they have for each other. I often find Katia or Noah softly petting Meeka and I know that it is rewarding for both parties involved. So the question is ... how long till we add "one more" to our family? 

And here we are, reunited after 6 months of being apart. Oh I've missed this girl (and her little girls). It feels good to be with them once again. 

.....

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes at Cure For Boredom.

two roads project

right now 

Johanna (left):
right now ... 

... I am missing the warmth, calmness, gentleness of Maui
... I am tired from days on end of travelling 

... I am excited to be here in Ottawa for a month. Excited to see my people. Sarah is one of them!

Sarah (right):
right now:

... I can't be bothered to get up and take a picture of something. Enjoy the grainy selfie!

... I am listening to four little girls in their rooms who don't want to succumb to sleep.

... I feel sore in my legs after repeatedly climbing the stairs while carrying one or two kids

... My brain is mush after a long day of answering questions, interpreting toddler-ese and reading Paperbag Princess 18283737 times

... I am really thirsty. When was the last time I drank from my water bottle?

... I am that sleepy kind of satisfied and blissful, knowing my day was full of good things: home cooking, floor playing, yoga, writing, colouring, walking outside and keeping our house organized

... I am excited to see a certain someone soon!

.....

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes at Cure For Boredom.