Winter frost, plunging temperatures, pantry supplies and hungry bellies means my reliance upon breads, stews and other comfort foods reigns supreme. We eat what is easy, what warms us and what makes us all sit quiet as we chew our homemade food. I love that kind of silence- not needing to say a thing because we are all enjoying, nay-savouring!, delicious food made with love.
There is a chocolate orange bread braid waiting to become dough in my breadmaker. (I promised easy, didn't I?) There are pasta shells stuffed with ricotta and spinach waiting to be reheated and eaten in my fridge. (Not eaten in the fridge, silly grammar!) There is baking all over the counter and more still waiting in the freezer.
No matter what the religious affiliation, family size, attitude or perspective, no one can deny the epicurean thrills that come with the holiday season. Time for a nice warm cup of decaf chai now, before I finally brave the frigid -40 outdoors and take Skylar for a walk around the block. The poor pup is bonkers so I need to go out and show her exactly how cold it is so maybe she will stop asking for walks. Maybe.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Cabin Fever
Going on day five of crazy freezing temperatures here in Ross River, but this bout of cabin fever isn't chasing away our sanity just yet. We are fevered with Christmas excitement and high off sugary treats, but the countdown to Dec. 25 keeps us cheery. We have been watching Christmas classics together, rewinding our favourite parts (like in Christmas Vacation when they're tobogganing and the wayward uncle says, "every time she revs up the microwave, I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for half an hour"), and rolling on the floor with Abby.
To keep busy, I've been flipping through pages of my cookbooks, and trying new recipes. We've been calling family and friends back home, reading books by Christmas-tree light and starting our pre-New Years fitness resolutions. Better to begin the vengeful attacks on Christmas baking while we consume it, we figure.
No, it hasn't mattered a bit that we're stuck inside. We'll leave the truck frozen in the driveway, give her a chance to warm up a bit before we rev her up. We'll forgo our walks because stepping outside is so cold it literally takes your breath away. We aren't yet bored because the list of Christmas prep and festive celebrating is never complete.
I hope you all are having wonderful pre-Christmas prep too, and that the shopping is done so you can relax and spend time with family and friends. Just don't forget to put a phone call in to us...we're guaranteed to be home!
To keep busy, I've been flipping through pages of my cookbooks, and trying new recipes. We've been calling family and friends back home, reading books by Christmas-tree light and starting our pre-New Years fitness resolutions. Better to begin the vengeful attacks on Christmas baking while we consume it, we figure.
No, it hasn't mattered a bit that we're stuck inside. We'll leave the truck frozen in the driveway, give her a chance to warm up a bit before we rev her up. We'll forgo our walks because stepping outside is so cold it literally takes your breath away. We aren't yet bored because the list of Christmas prep and festive celebrating is never complete.
I hope you all are having wonderful pre-Christmas prep too, and that the shopping is done so you can relax and spend time with family and friends. Just don't forget to put a phone call in to us...we're guaranteed to be home!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sparks to brighten the short days
I am heartily enjoying a good batch of Nicholas Sparks books Rich got for my birthday in October. I requested them knowing that I'd be in for a good cry, run into his arms for a hug after each one, and believe in the magic of true love over and over again. I read The Choice and just today I finished The Lucky One. Both had twist endings and shocking outcomes that made me well up as predicted and reach other to the other end of the couch where Rich sat, to grab his hand in mine. He looked at me with a smile and confusion (wondering no doubt if I was about to ask him to clean a bathroom or something).
I know the Notebook is everyone's guarantee cry-movie and A Walk to Remember is as sappy as they come. I haven't yet seen or read A Night in Rodanthe, but it's on my list. Oh, Nicholas Sparks. I can't get over how well he writes, especially with a woman's voice. I always feel transported to whatever small Carolina town he has chosen as the setting, and now I believe it must be a magic seaside state where true love and magical encounters triumph over tragedy on a regular basis.
These books, as well as Three Weeks With My Brother (the next Sparks book I have on my shelf), were a wonderful gift from the hubs. And just yesterday he agreed to let me order a beautiful solid wood book case from Sears to fill with even more literary treasures, as our current DVD shelf will become little miss Abby's bookshelf in her room, host to her own growing collection. Her favourite book right now is Karen Katz' In Grandma's Arms. I am asked to read it like 20 times a day.
Today is the shortest day, and my thermometer outside my window reads -40, but with a good book, hot chocolate and three smiley Nimans, this house is a warm place to have cabin fever!
I know the Notebook is everyone's guarantee cry-movie and A Walk to Remember is as sappy as they come. I haven't yet seen or read A Night in Rodanthe, but it's on my list. Oh, Nicholas Sparks. I can't get over how well he writes, especially with a woman's voice. I always feel transported to whatever small Carolina town he has chosen as the setting, and now I believe it must be a magic seaside state where true love and magical encounters triumph over tragedy on a regular basis.
These books, as well as Three Weeks With My Brother (the next Sparks book I have on my shelf), were a wonderful gift from the hubs. And just yesterday he agreed to let me order a beautiful solid wood book case from Sears to fill with even more literary treasures, as our current DVD shelf will become little miss Abby's bookshelf in her room, host to her own growing collection. Her favourite book right now is Karen Katz' In Grandma's Arms. I am asked to read it like 20 times a day.
Today is the shortest day, and my thermometer outside my window reads -40, but with a good book, hot chocolate and three smiley Nimans, this house is a warm place to have cabin fever!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Falalalala Lalalala
There is no way I could proceed through Christmas time without being warmed by the contagious aura of the holidays. It would be impossible for me to sulk during a beautiful winter walk through a frosted white forest with my beautiful baby babbling words to me from her stroller seat. I'd be hard pressed to find a reason to pout at my nearly-nuclear Christmas tree (Rich loooooves the lights, to excess), adorned with family-given ornaments, towering over a mountain of gifts. And now that my kitchen counter is covered wit plates of cookies, fudge and gingerbread men, I can find no cause to be forlorn.
Christmastime and the spirit around it have lifted me up and given me all kinds of reasons to celebrate, drink, eat, and be merry with those around me. It's a week away. We spent most of this weekend with Christmas movies on the TV in the background, baking browning in the oven, with the dim light of the Christmas tree, Christmas hallway night lights, window lights and the strand we strung in the dining room plant casting a serene glow.
Abby has taken great delight in playing with a strand of silver Christmas bells, and bum-scooting her way closer and closer to the tree, trying to reach out and nab an ornament or light before mummy catches on and scoops her away.
When it's warmer than -30 outside, we bundle up head to toe and walk Skylar outside, making sure to stop by the post office to collect our Christmas cards from lovely friends and family around the country. That reminds me, I have a tin of shortbread cookies to deliver to the Colwell family later today, or maybe tomorrow if it warms up (it's -35 today!).
We may be far from family, and we may live in a freezing kind of winter wonderland, but the love in our house is enough to warm our hearts and hands as we prepare to celebrate our first family Christmas as a threesome!
Christmastime and the spirit around it have lifted me up and given me all kinds of reasons to celebrate, drink, eat, and be merry with those around me. It's a week away. We spent most of this weekend with Christmas movies on the TV in the background, baking browning in the oven, with the dim light of the Christmas tree, Christmas hallway night lights, window lights and the strand we strung in the dining room plant casting a serene glow.
Abby has taken great delight in playing with a strand of silver Christmas bells, and bum-scooting her way closer and closer to the tree, trying to reach out and nab an ornament or light before mummy catches on and scoops her away.
When it's warmer than -30 outside, we bundle up head to toe and walk Skylar outside, making sure to stop by the post office to collect our Christmas cards from lovely friends and family around the country. That reminds me, I have a tin of shortbread cookies to deliver to the Colwell family later today, or maybe tomorrow if it warms up (it's -35 today!).
We may be far from family, and we may live in a freezing kind of winter wonderland, but the love in our house is enough to warm our hearts and hands as we prepare to celebrate our first family Christmas as a threesome!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Homecoming
I'm home in Ottawa in a big cocoon of love and comfort. I had planned a surprise trip home back in August, and the universe ensured that in my time of great need, I was passed lovingly from its arms into my own mothers' in a serendipitous turn of perfect timing. She didn't know I was coming home, and had told me over and over on the phone how she ached so badly to be with me, to hug me and to help me. When I walked down the basement stairs in the house I grew up in, baby on my hip, she stared up in disbelief then ran up and hugged us both, crying happy tears.
For this last week I have been coddled, fed, kept warm and snugly. I shared a bed every night with either my mum or my sister (and two rambunctious but cuddly kittens!), and allowed out for some pampering "me recovery" time as needed.
This love and homecoming have been refreshing and cleansing. I am starting to feel like my body has been washed of its trauma through some good yoga, excellent food, long showers, many hugs and some growing respect and appreciation from me. I have made sure to take time to heal, letting the universe know that although my body has caused me great pain, I am still in wonder and awe over what it can do, what comfort and sustenance it provides still for Abby and what fascinating function it continues daily on its own. Marvelous. I got an organic facial last week that made me feel like a new woman. I went for a swim today with family and delighted in watching Abby shriek and smile as big as she could. I have a massage tomorrow with hands from a friend I know will do right in healing me further and helping me be renewed.
I think I am moving towards being ready to turn the page, to acknowledge this dark chapter as an entry in the story of my life. Something transformative and with inherent lessons, but a happening from which I can turn the page nonetheless.
I am glad there is still a cushion of time left for me to enjoy the many blessings of home. I will surely soak it all in and take full advantage of the people, places and gifts around me before Abby and I pack our giant suitcases and make the 5,000+ kilometre journey to Ross River on our own. Yikes!
For this last week I have been coddled, fed, kept warm and snugly. I shared a bed every night with either my mum or my sister (and two rambunctious but cuddly kittens!), and allowed out for some pampering "me recovery" time as needed.
This love and homecoming have been refreshing and cleansing. I am starting to feel like my body has been washed of its trauma through some good yoga, excellent food, long showers, many hugs and some growing respect and appreciation from me. I have made sure to take time to heal, letting the universe know that although my body has caused me great pain, I am still in wonder and awe over what it can do, what comfort and sustenance it provides still for Abby and what fascinating function it continues daily on its own. Marvelous. I got an organic facial last week that made me feel like a new woman. I went for a swim today with family and delighted in watching Abby shriek and smile as big as she could. I have a massage tomorrow with hands from a friend I know will do right in healing me further and helping me be renewed.
I think I am moving towards being ready to turn the page, to acknowledge this dark chapter as an entry in the story of my life. Something transformative and with inherent lessons, but a happening from which I can turn the page nonetheless.
I am glad there is still a cushion of time left for me to enjoy the many blessings of home. I will surely soak it all in and take full advantage of the people, places and gifts around me before Abby and I pack our giant suitcases and make the 5,000+ kilometre journey to Ross River on our own. Yikes!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
November 27
I lost a part of me.
I waited and I thought it, but I didn't want it to be.
I know it's not my fault, it was just the destined hour.
But I feel like a failure, like I lost my special power.
My body's healing, and I am safe,
what I've got is not to waste.
Still I ache, and feel it, and yearn for yesterday.
When ignorance was comfort and the hope didn't hurt,
Then the truth came out, the words were said,
and I thought my heart had burst.
I lost a part of me,
A part I know isn't coming back.
It took hard work and struggle but the loss has been exact.
"Like a brick and drowning slowly," now I walk the lonely mile,
I've lost a part of me now I stand hurt in this trial.
I wait for a cue to conclusion, but the loss walks beside me,
I'm a saddened, hollow vessel, blinking tears back while you look to my belly.
I waited and I thought it, but I didn't want it to be.
I know it's not my fault, it was just the destined hour.
But I feel like a failure, like I lost my special power.
My body's healing, and I am safe,
what I've got is not to waste.
Still I ache, and feel it, and yearn for yesterday.
When ignorance was comfort and the hope didn't hurt,
Then the truth came out, the words were said,
and I thought my heart had burst.
I lost a part of me,
A part I know isn't coming back.
It took hard work and struggle but the loss has been exact.
"Like a brick and drowning slowly," now I walk the lonely mile,
I've lost a part of me now I stand hurt in this trial.
I wait for a cue to conclusion, but the loss walks beside me,
I'm a saddened, hollow vessel, blinking tears back while you look to my belly.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Skylar's cure for boredom
That puppy of mine...I heard her restlessly trying to be patient and sleep on the floor while I took a quick catnap as Abby went down for her morning nap. Skylar had been somewhere else before trotting in for a rest. When I got up to make myself a tea, I saw the carnage of her activities:
She had nosed open the cupboard under the sink, tipped over the garbage and ate a whole carrot breakfast loaf I had dumped because it was raw inside. (Side note: It was the recipe's fault! It called for a too-small pan and didn't allow for even/proper baking).
I called her in to the scene of the crime so her dog brain would understand. I yelled and pointed at the mess and she squinted before quickly running away to the couch, although she really had to go for a dump, understandably. Then, the big guns came out. Rich stormed into the kitchen, and she cowered by the front door begging for release. He dragged her by her collar to the garbage and further punished her. I couldn't help but smirk and she dropped to the ground and took her lecture. Then we let her outside saying, "Bad girl, bad, BAD girl."
That said, she usually is a big goofy puppy to have around. She greets everyone at the door with a neurotic wailing and wiggling of her entire body. Whether I've been gone two minutes or two weeks, the greeting's intensity is the same: high. She must have something in her mouth to calm her jumping up and slobbering urges. Usually this is her pet cow or bunny.
She lives for her walks, whether it's plus 30 or minus 40. She bounds down the street almost running sideways because she just can't run and express her joy adequately enough. She keeps a stick in her mouth at all times, because that is her mission and she could not live with herself if she were to fail.
She can also turn her goofy glee off in a second if I am crying and she nestles right up beside me, lays her head on my lap and lets me use her soft, cinnamon-coloured body for comfort.
Skylar was a Christmas present to Rich two years ago right after we got married. She was the runt of a large litter and we chose her because she seemed so innocently stupid and happy. She has since proven to be smarter than we think she is (but only when she wants to be, like this morning), and immeasurably more cuddly and loving. She is a bona fide family member and I don't know what we'd do without her.
So Skylar, even though you were a very bad dog this morning, we love you. Abby loves your kisses and rewards you with throwing cheerios and toast bits off her high chair to your waiting mouth below. Rich loves when you jump into bed and cuddle with him after I've gotten up to play with Abby in the morning. And I love when you "help" me cook and bake in the kitchen by taste-testing everything I drop and acting as though it was gourmet fare fit for a god.
She had nosed open the cupboard under the sink, tipped over the garbage and ate a whole carrot breakfast loaf I had dumped because it was raw inside. (Side note: It was the recipe's fault! It called for a too-small pan and didn't allow for even/proper baking).
I called her in to the scene of the crime so her dog brain would understand. I yelled and pointed at the mess and she squinted before quickly running away to the couch, although she really had to go for a dump, understandably. Then, the big guns came out. Rich stormed into the kitchen, and she cowered by the front door begging for release. He dragged her by her collar to the garbage and further punished her. I couldn't help but smirk and she dropped to the ground and took her lecture. Then we let her outside saying, "Bad girl, bad, BAD girl."
That said, she usually is a big goofy puppy to have around. She greets everyone at the door with a neurotic wailing and wiggling of her entire body. Whether I've been gone two minutes or two weeks, the greeting's intensity is the same: high. She must have something in her mouth to calm her jumping up and slobbering urges. Usually this is her pet cow or bunny.
She lives for her walks, whether it's plus 30 or minus 40. She bounds down the street almost running sideways because she just can't run and express her joy adequately enough. She keeps a stick in her mouth at all times, because that is her mission and she could not live with herself if she were to fail.
She can also turn her goofy glee off in a second if I am crying and she nestles right up beside me, lays her head on my lap and lets me use her soft, cinnamon-coloured body for comfort.
Skylar was a Christmas present to Rich two years ago right after we got married. She was the runt of a large litter and we chose her because she seemed so innocently stupid and happy. She has since proven to be smarter than we think she is (but only when she wants to be, like this morning), and immeasurably more cuddly and loving. She is a bona fide family member and I don't know what we'd do without her.
So Skylar, even though you were a very bad dog this morning, we love you. Abby loves your kisses and rewards you with throwing cheerios and toast bits off her high chair to your waiting mouth below. Rich loves when you jump into bed and cuddle with him after I've gotten up to play with Abby in the morning. And I love when you "help" me cook and bake in the kitchen by taste-testing everything I drop and acting as though it was gourmet fare fit for a god.
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