Inkwells & Images

Today would be my grandmother’s 100th birthday, but our family celebrated her life together a little earlier than planned at her funeral in October of this year.

I began this essay in August of 2012 and have shaped and reshaped it over the years, never quite finishing it. It seemed about time to find it a home here on the internet.

In July of 1997, my father dropped my younger brother and I off at our grandparents’ house in Kansas for two weeks during summer vacation. It was an eight hour drive away from our home in Illinois, and likely our first big adventure away from him since our mother had passed away the July before. Being let loose for two weeks on the farm with the older boy cousins settled just fine with my seven year old brother, but I was turning ten that month and was a little more reserved, a bit less of a daredevil. So, that summer, I learned to sew.

My lessons came in the form of a simple nine block quilt, just big enough to be a baby or lap blanket. I got to pick out the colors from Grandma’s enormous stash of material, settling on a blue with tiny pink flowers for the border and some of the blocks, and then a pale reddish vine pattern for the contrast. We stamped pictures of little kittens in the middle of white squares to go in the center of each block, leaving one block blank for my name and another for the date.

Over the next two weeks, my grandmother patiently taught my impatient little hands how to measure and cut, how to pin and to press. She had plenty of practice with this method: she’d raised three daughters to make their own clothes, and her three sons are no stranger to a needle and thread, either. In fact, as children, if our clothes ripped, my siblings and I took the damaged goods to my dad and he would mend them. It wasn’t always pretty, but he got the job done.

Our operation was housed in her little sewing room that doubled as a walk-in pantry and laundry, and our primary tool was a beautiful old Singer sewing machine, black with gilded scrolling patterns on it. I learned to thread the machine, replace the bobbin, and change the needles, very excited to get to do such grown up tasks, and even more so to be partnering with Grandma in the endeavor.

We worked on it a few hours each day. I learned to create strips of blocks to sew to contrasting strips, and then attached those strips to others. My foot pushed the pedal slowly at first, then, gaining confidence without having mastered the technique, I would press harder and the fabric would whoosh! through my fingers and I would have to back up and start over. Luckily, my material always pulled to the left, so that I would sew right off the edge of the material and not down the middle where the stitches would need ripped. Then, I would retreat back to timidity, slowly tapping the pedal in intermediate bursts of slow, slightly less slow, and then slow again. I wanted my quilt to be perfect.

After it was all stitched together, blocks within blocks and those blocks within borders, Grandma measured the batting, taught me how to sew up strips of fabric for the binding, and then she sat down and put it all together. She sewed one tiny stitch after another, all nearly invisible to the eye as she bound the layers under her lamp at her place on the couch while Grandpa nearby in his recliner reading the latest agriculture magazine or listening to the ball game on his radio.

And finally, it was done. All the rush and activity culminated in a beautiful, nine block quilt with those two empty spaces. I took great care to print my name – Abbigail Elizabeth Morgan – in the block on the left of the quilt. And then Grandma glanced at the calendar, ready to help me print the date on other block. It was July 27th.

“That won’t do,” grandma said, “we’ll have to write in the 26th.”

Curious, I waited for her to explain why the date had to be different on the quilt than it was on the calendar.

She paused, a contemplative look on her face, and said “I guess it won’t matter. I don’t think anyone will do the math and figure out that we finished it on a Sunday.”

Still, we wrote in the 26th–just in case.

In memory of my grandmother, Bertha Alice Morgan, 1919-2019.

My Brother Ethan’s Wedding – October 2017

Hiii! It’s been a zillion years since I’ve written anything here (okay… it’s been since February) and, as usual, it’s because a lot has been happening in real life that means online life has had to take a back seat. In the third row. Maybe actually in a pull-behind trailer with a padlock, to be honest.

The updates, (very) briefly:

Arthur turned two. And then two-and-a-half. (How?)
We are expecting baby number two in January. (Also, how?!?)
Scott and I actually got away kid-free for a long weekend for a trip on an airplane (err… six of them) to Quebec City, Canada and ate our way through the city for three days before flying back home.

Rather than tell you all the boring things like how many colds I have had this pregnancy or how much brain gymnastics I’ve been doing to get ready for a second baby and take an actual maternity leave this time around, I’ll tell you about our visit to Vieux-Quebec, or Old Quebec City. Because that’s more fun.

A Long Weekend in Quebec City - Gate to Vieux Quebec | Inkwells & Images

Why Quebec City?

In part, because I took five semesters of French in college and have never traveled anywhere that I’ve had to use it. Quebec City is a “safe” destination for using a foreign-to-you language because nearly everyone there is bilingual in French and English (or like one of our cab drivers, quadrilingual in Arabic, French, English, and Spanish. Not going to lie — I’m a bit jealous.) and is able to understand your (my) awful French and respond in English when that just works better for both of us.

In part, because Scott and I both started reading the Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny which often takes place in the “Eastern Townships” and the setting has fascinated us. We like the cold, and Penny’s descriptions of the Quebecois and their surroundings drew us both in, figuratively and then literally.

In part, because of the cold (it was about seven degrees Fahrenheit our first day there), November is a serious off-season for the area, which meant that not only was the city a little empty, but it was also very affordable to fly into and stay. But we’re from Wisconsin: we’re well-acquainted with wool and know how to layer. We loved it.

And, finally, we chose Quebec in part because we knew if we were going to take a “big” trip and leave the country without kids for a few days, it was now or about five years from now. So we went. (And “just” to Canada because they have advanced healthcare and I was traveling at 31 weeks pregnant.)

A Long Weekend in Quebec City | Inkwells & Images

What did we do in Quebec City?

We ate a lot of food and we walked a lot.

That might sound boring, but honestly it’s kind of the same thing we’d do anywhere we go. Scott can’t sit still, hence the walking, and we’ve become semi-serious foodies in the last few years, both in our own kitchen and in our restaurant choices (aside from all the nights we end up at Culver’s because #kidfriendly). So we took our AirBnB hosts’ recommendations and ate. And ate. And ate. Our favorites:

Cafe du Monde We almost couldn’t find this restaurant as we were walking there in the dark on our first full day and it was way off the beaten path and the signage was a little less-than what we’d been expecting, but find it we did and we were very glad. Our waiter was phenomenal: we sat down, he came to as us how we were doing and if we had any questions about the menu (in French, of course), and took one look at the completely blank look on Scott’s face and said “English?” Yes, please. He then helped us make our decisions (and boy were they good decisions) and set me up with bread to make my leftover roast into a sandwich the next day. Win-win. We left thinking if any of our other reservations don’t pan out, we’re coming back here.

Chez Boulay Bistro Boréal & Comptoir Boréal Our second reservation did pan out and then some. The Boulay Bistro is the sit-down restaurant, and the Comptoir is a coffee and pastry shop where you can grab breakfast to go. Both focused on Nordic cuisine, i.e. seasonal food harvested in the Quebec region, including wild game, seasonings, and syrups and ciders. For example, they use canola oil instead of olive oil since it is native to the region, and local apple cider syrups instead of vinegar. It was one of the best meals we’ve ever had and we’d return in a heartbeat. In fact, we did: the next morning we walked back to grab coffee and pastries and of all the chocolate croissants I’ve eaten in my life (hint: a lot), this was the best one.

Baguette et Chocolat I’m pretty sure this is a chain of some sort, but Scott had his first real crêpe here and it left a serious impression. Stuffed with ham, mozzarella and egg, it was big enough to share along with a slice of gâteau au chocolate (chocolate layer cake), of course. We contemplated picking up food to take to the airport with us, but sadly did not make it happen.

Le Billig Crêperie-Bistro My friend Morgan Swank spent some time in Quebec last year and she recommended this crêperie, but warned that it would be a walk from our AirBnB. It was, but it was worth it. We split two crêpes, one savory with chorizo and leeks, and one sweet that had mascarpone, chocolate ice cream, salted caramel sauce, and grated crystallized ginger. We contemplated eating another. Our waitress was amazing, taught us how to say “refill” in French (it’s “rechaud” – or literally, re-warm), and made the best latte I had all weekend.

A Long Weekend in Quebec City - Le Billig Creperie | Inkwells & Images

D’Orsay Restaurant-Pub Our first night in Quebec City, we landed around five p.m. and were so hungry we planned to grab food at the airport before we took a cab to our AirBnb… but Quebec City airport is about as small as Madison and there was no food to be found once we got off the plane. So we hopped in a cab, dropped our bags in our AirBnb, and walked right back out the door for food. We walked around the corner and landed at D’Orsay and it was a perfect meal to start us off: burgers and pasta and poutine, because what else do you order for your first meal in Quebec after being in an airport all day?

Café La Maison Smith This coffee shop had one location right around the corner from our AirBnB, so we found ourselves there for morning lattés our first day, as well as afternoon chocolat chaud (hot chocolate) a couple of times. The hot chocolate was divine — so much less sweet than a cup in America, as was the caramel pecan brownie we nabbed one day ahead of dinner.

Things That Weren’t Food

La Citadelle de Québec At the top of Scott’s list was to visit La Citadelle, so that’s where we headed first thing on Saturday morning. It’s the heart of the fortifications Quebec built in the 1820s-1850s to ward off a potential attack by the Americans (sorry, Canada) and is home to the Royal 22e Régiment, the Canadian Forces’ sole French-language regiment. It was fascinating to start off our trip engrossed in history and it would be neat to return in the summer for the ceremonial changing of the guard that features the regiment’s mascot: Batisse the Goat. One of the members of the Royal 22e Regiment is charged with the care of Batisse, including painting his horns and hooves gold for the daily ceremony.

A Long Weekend in Quebec City - La Citadelle | Inkwells & Images

Plaines d’Abraham Another piece of Canadian history, The Plains of Abraham are where several major battles in the Seven Years’ War took place as the French tried to defend their stronghold on the St. Lawrence River against the British. We visited the museum and walked through the Battlefield Park, thinking it would be lovely to visit in the spring or summer — at the moment it was quite cold and windy, with enough snow that a few people were skiing. The park is to Quebec what Central Park is to NYC: an expansive green gathering place along the river as well as a place of historical significance.

Les Trois Corbeaux Glass Blowing It’s always our goal to find a Christmas ornament for our tree when we are on vacation so that every year we we pull the ornaments out of storage we get to relive our trips that we’ve taken. I know I’ve read somewhere that as much as 30% of your happiness from an experience comes from remembering it later, so this seems to be a way to replay the highlights every year for us. While the food in Old Quebec was delightful, it’s a rather… touristy spot, to be sure. And when I say that, I mean that every shop seems to have the same eight souvenirs displayed over and over again and not a single one of them is actually made in the country you are shopping in. So Les Trois Corbeaux (or, The Three Crows) Glass Blowing was a breath of fresh air. We picked up a hand-blown snowflake Christmas ornament for our tree and it even made it successfully back to the states in one piece.

Where We Stayed

We spent our first three nights at the Lofts Ste. Anne right in the heart of Vieux-Quebec. It was in the perfect location: steps away from restaurants, right down the street from a small neighborhood grocery where we picked up some supplies our first night, and close to everything we wanted to see in our short time there. We like finding AirBnBs so that we have access to a fridge and some basic kitchen appliances so we can eat breakfast or lunch in, and even do some laundry while we’re there. If you’ve never stayed in an AirBnB, you can use this referral link to get $40 off your first stay — and I’ll get $30 to use toward my next.

We decided to splurge and spend one night at Le Chateau Frontenac on our last night. It’s a historic hotel built in 1893 right on the St. Lawrence River and it is truly gorgeous — but also a maze. We made life easy and ate breakfast there at the hotel before leaving for the airport, and while it was delicious, it was not as delicious as the price tag implied (and we got a $25 credit as part of our hotel stay). We would have been just as happy (but a little chillier) if we’d walked back to the Boulay Comptoir for sandwiches and pastries and probably saved about fifty bucks. But now we can say we’ve eaten at Le Chateau Frontenac — and we don’t need to do it again. I’m not sure we’d need to stay there again, either — but it was really cool to be guests for just one night.

A Long Weekend in Quebec City - Chateau Frontenac | Inkwells & Images

And that’s that.

Despite traveling in November, we had no travel delays there or back again. I did come home with what I think might be a sinus infection or just a really nasty cold, but all in all it was an excellent trip and one we’d take again.

I didn’t haul a camera or a potty seat with me. I read Erin Morgenstern’s The Starless Sea throughout the weekend. And we didn’t have to convince any member of our party to eat the dinner they had ordered or stay seated throughout the entire meal.

In other words: bliss.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming… which involves me largely ignoring this online space as we transition Arthur to a toddler bed, pull a nursery together, and I get ready for maternity leave — and the second baby that comes with it.

THREE

Finishing on Sunday

A Long Weekend in Quebec City

Why Quebec City?

What did we do in Quebec City?

Things That Weren’t Food

Where We Stayed

And that’s that.