Usually, around this date, I post something here complaining about my birthday. It usually also is somehow connected to my vanity, which is derived entirely from my comparative youth. Today is my birthday, and true to form, I am here to complain. I spent my evening doing possibly the most un-birthday-ish thing I could think of. I went to a presentation on how to keep your children safe on the internet, and specifically, on social networking sites. Without going into detail, there were reasons, specific and serious, that compelled me to attend this event. Despite it being my birthday, I needed to participate in this, and also, be seen participating in this.

I wasn't sure entirely what to expect - when the request that this event be funded by parent council was brought forward, all we were told was that this guy really means business, and doesn't sugar-coat things, just tells you the things you need to be told. It seemed like the sort of thing that could be useful, something that would give me information or tools that I needed, that I could put to practical use.

looooooong pause...

I started trying to type out a list of the things that I supposedly 'learned' at this event, but I can't. It infuriates me. I understand that maybe not everyone has embraced social networking like I have - I have, at one time or another, had 3 different Facebook accounts, 2 twitter accounts, 4 different google accounts (2 google plus accounts), 2 msn accounts, 2 Skype accounts, a yahoo ID, ICQ, Second Life, multiple blogs, a tumblr account, 2 flickr accounts, a pinterest account and an instagram account. I have had any number of networking/texting/chatting apps on my smartphone including two different Facebook apps, Skype, WhatsApp, Kakao Talk, Instagram, Google+, Twitter, Find Friends, Game Center, a number of email accounts and oh, yeah, an unlimited international texting plan (before you are horrified, this is over the course of years, and most of those are now inactive) - but I think it's really unnecessary for the school to pay someone to come in and explain to parents what Twitter is, and what Instagram is, and what a f*cking selfie is. Internet savvy or not, if you haven't figured out LOL yet, you're out of luck, and you don't need to understand that a hashtag is this (#) to keep yourself or your child safe online. Yes, I KNOW Google owns YouTube, and YouTube isn't censored. Thank you for explaining to me that I need to only post photos on Facebook for 48 hours and then delete them so Google can't 'get' them. It was wonderful of you to teach me how to google myself. And you know, just to be sure I wasn't just ranting without knowing what I was talking about, I DID google myself, using 3 different variations of my name, and you know how many images I found of myself? Three. All images readily handed over to be published online when I gave interviews about my artwork. The rest of the hits were from my Etsy store (also, happy to have them come up in a search!) and my photography website. There was not a single FB photo (profile photo or photo I was tagged in) that appeared. I wonder if I should be concerned though, that the pics that did show up, and really, most of my pics on Facebook, are not the prescribed head-and-shoulders shots, but closer to the "selfies" you taught us about, which are bad, for some unspecified reason.

Ah, that's it. That's my problem. Aside from the fact that I was taught about technology I already knew at least as much as the teacher about, what I really object to is the very not-impartial moralizing of what we should and shouldn't allow our kids to do. Asserting that children should not be allowed to lie about their ages to create accounts is one thing. Saying that there is only one appropriate way to take a photo of oneself, or asserting that your child really doesn't NEED a tumblr account, without explaining why it's unncessary or redundant takes this out of the realm of expert teaching facts and right down to random guy giving you his opinion on the internet. His opinion on products that, by his own admission, he doesn't use. And we're thanking him for doing it, we're applauding and we're writing him a big fat cheque at the end.

I know I'm being grouchy, I do. But it's my birthday, I'm entitled.

The last few days have been... stressful. What else is new, right? Do I ever write here and say that the last few days have been amazing? Not often. Sorry about that. But you know what? Things are going to get better. All the sadness and stress and working away at things that seem impossible, it will all be over eventually. All the things that are unspeakably maddening or distressing now, those things are going to melt away into distant memories, stories to tell the grandchildren, mental souvenirs of the struggles that led to happiness.

Things are going to be amazing.

Some people might say you should celebrate future amazing days with something elaborate, something beautiful. Today, I disagree. What better way to celebrate the beauty of everyday happiness than with a simple, everyday dessert?

Apple Coconut Crumble

Ingredients

4 medium apples (I used macs, but it's really up to your taste)
⅛ cup of icing sugar
½ teaspoon + ½ teaspoon of ground cinnamon
½ cup of all-purpose flour
½ cup of dark brown sugar (packed)
½ cup of steel-cut oats
½ cup of flaked coconut
1 teaspoon of ground nutmeg
½ cup of melted butter
seeds of 1 vanilla bean

Method

Peel and core the apples and cut into small pieces. Place them in a large saucepan and cover with water. Simmer, covered, on medium-high heat for approximately 5 minutes, until apples are tender but not falling apart. Drain well. Combine the icing sugar and first measure of cinnamon and toss through the apples.

In a separate bowl, combine the flour, brown sugar, oats, coconut, cinnamon and nutmeg and mix well. Add the melted butter and vanilla to the dry ingredients and mix well using a fork. Ensure all ingredients are moist and mixture has a crumbly texture.

Divide the apple mix evenly into 4 small ramekins. Spread crumble mix over top of apple. Bake at 350F for approximately 35 minutes, or until crumble topping is slightly browned.

Serve warm with a generous splash of cream, and celebrate the little things that make up every day.

I saw him wandering slowly along the front of my booth, and started back across the field to greet him. The traffic at the art show had slowed enough that I was doing a bit of shopping of my own. He looked young, late teens, maybe early twenties, and he had a backpack slung over one shoulder. He was riffling through the postcards and loose prints on my table, but his eyes were clearly focused on the larger framed prints inside the booth. I invited him in to have a closer look, but I didn't really expect a sale. He did not look like he had money to drop on other people's photos. I suspected perhaps an art student, or budding photographer, the way he carefully examined each frame. "Did you take all of these?" I nodded. "Wow."

He circled the booth a few times, carefully studying each picture, but he always seemed to gravitate towards one particular piece. It was a favourite of mine, a sunset at Blackpool Pier I had shot the previous fall. I had already sold smaller copies of it that day, and almost sold the particular 10x20 he was looking at a few hours earlier, to a woman who had eventually rejected it because, although she loved the picture, she didn't care for the frame. It was not inexpensive. He asked me the price, I smiled gently and told him. His face sank. I felt sorry for him, and checked over the table again, to see if I didn't have a smaller copy of that photo still hidden on the table somewhere. No luck. He looked apologetic. "I really love that one. But I'm five dollars short. I've never bought art before, I didn't know how much it would cost."

I was surprised. "Five dollars, hm?" He nodded. He explained that he had just moved into his first apartment (shared with roommates) and he wanted some real art for his room, but he'd never bought any before. He really liked this one, and he particularly liked the idea of buying something one of a kind, from an artist he'd actually met. If this kid was putting on a show - and I don't think he was - he certainly earned his five-dollar discount. "You know what? It's almost the end of the day, I'm going to pack up soon, and I'd rather see this go home with you than box it up and take it back with me. I can do five dollars less."

He looked utterly THRILLED. Seriously thrilled. He kept asking if I was sure, of course I was sure. Then his face sank again. "I rode my bike here - how am I going to get it home? It won't fit in my backpack." We rummaged through the various materials I had brought for packing up larger items, and after a bit of work, had fastened a twine harness to hold it to his backpack. His smile returned, he gave me his money and went on his way. I felt pretty good.

Until I saw him returning, ten minutes later, looking somewhat sheepish. I wondered if he wanted to return it. I wondered if perhaps his roommates had talked him out of spending all his money on one picture to hang on his wall. He sidled up to the booth, looking almost as though he wished I couldn't see him. Then I noticed he had taken the frame out of the twine bundle, and held it in his hands.

"Is everything ok? It didn't fall, did it?"

He shook his head, and smiled timidly. "I forgot to ask if you'd autograph it."

Last summer, I participated in my very first art show. Those of you who were around then might recall my nightmares leading up to the day that I would show up in a towel and my booth would collapse in a heap of broken glass and frames, or my fervent pleas for you all to come and at least look like you were buying something, or my offers to make this whole adventure worth your while with cookies.

I'm telling you this story now as my own roundabout way of announcing that, together with some of the very talented artists I met for the first time at that show, I am opening a real, proper, brick-and-mortar shop. We are the Rural Creators Collective, and we'll be opening our doors just north of Hamilton in May of this year. Thank you to all of you who have supported me in getting this far, and I hope to see you at the store!