Kootenay Bliss

Backyard Booty

2010-12-13T19:35:00.000-08:00

I had such great plans of devoting a bit more time to my blog, but alas, it's not to happen just yet. However, to sate you all, those of you who are still around, here's a sweet nugget from home. There really is no place like home, is there?

Backyard Booty Segment: Natural Progressions from Ryan Flett on Vimeo.

Mango Chicken

2010-11-11T23:14:00.001-08:00

Hard to believe, but I am writing...sporadically. Just not anything that's ready for posting. I know, lame excuse, but that's life at the moment. To make up for it, I'll give you the recipe for a dish that will tantalize your taste buds and leave you begging for more. Now aren't those the best sorts of recipes? Let's hear it for mango chicken, the perfect accompaniment for jasmine rice.

Mango Chicken

1 C chopped onion.
1 C chopped orange or red peppers (or green, what the heck)
2 tsp of coconut oil
1 to 1 1/2 lbs of skinless, boneless chicken cut into strips
1 1/2 Tbsp of curry powder
2 tsp fresh ginger root
1 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
2 C chopped peeled mango
3/4 C coconut milk
2 Tbsp tomato paste
1 small can of bamboo shoots
chopped cilantro for garnish
steamed rice

In large frying pan, saute onions and peppers in oil until crisp but tender. Add chicken and spices (curry, ginger, garlic, salt and cayenne). Cook and stir for five minutes. Stir in mango, coconut mild and tomato paste. Bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Add drained bamboo shoots. Serve over fresh steamed rice and garnish with cilantro. Enjoy.

Pumpkin Soup

2010-11-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

The haunting hour has passed. She looked at my pumpkins (there were four) and asked what I was going to do with them.

"Oh, I don't know," I replied. "Perhaps I'll make soup, or cook one up to make muffins, or if I feel really ambitious, ravioli."

"Pumpkin soup?" she questioned incredulously. She simply couldn't get beyond the pumpkin soup.

When she asked later about the pumpkin soup, I knew I had to make it. For those of you who have visited here often, you know full well that my cooking is more of an art than a science. Sure, if I bake, for the most part, I try to stick to the measurements, but cooking, it's all by feel. But the soup was so incredibly delicious, I'll try to remember what it was that I did.

Take 1/2 a sugar pumpkin, seeded and its innards cleaned and put it face down in a pan with just a little water. (Sugar pumpkins have the best flavour, so I wouldn't recommend making this with another type of pumpkin, but I am sure it would work equally well with an acorn or butternut squash.)

Bake at 400 degrees until its flesh is soft and mushy.

In the meantime, finely chop about 2 1/2 onions and saute on low heat with some butter.

Peal and core two apples (I used Spartans, but only because it was what I had in my house). Chop into chunks and add to onions.

When the pumpkin has finished baking, scoop the flesh away from the peel and put into the blender. Add chicken broth (or a full bodied vegetable broth if you prefer), the sauteed onion / apple mixture, 3/4 tsp of curry powder, salt and pepper to taste and blend. Transfer to a soup pan and add more chicken broth until the soup is at your preferred consistency. Heat until warmed through.

Garnish with grated Romano (or blue cheese if you'd like something with a little more flavour), chopped cilantro or parsley and some toasted pecans. Enjoy.

Here's the Deal

2010-10-02T13:13:00.000-07:00

If you quit lying about me,
I will quit telling the truth about you.

Breeze

2010-09-30T20:39:00.000-07:00

Your silence is as vast as my country.
Your breath, a gentle zephyr upon my beating heart.

Moving Forward

2010-09-17T13:21:00.001-07:00

They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."
~ Andy Warhol

Whitewater Winter Stoke

2010-09-10T16:03:00.000-07:00

As we quickly tumble away from summer into cooler weather here in the Kootenays, our thoughts move away from all the summer joys of beaches, bonfires, swimming in the lake and the like and we start to dream of the winter fun that lies just beyond the horizon. For many of us, that means Whitewater ski resort. Here, we love big, fluffy flakes the flutter fearlessly thick and carpet the mountains and tree tops. We love how the snow crusts over and sparkles like diamonds. We dream of deep powder that goes flying as we glide through it. Through those dark winter months, this is what keeps our hearts beating. If you are lucky enough to find yourself in the Kootenays in the middle of winter, tap into the pulse that keeps us going. Check out the magic of Whitewater.

In a Pickle

2010-09-05T22:00:00.001-07:00

When was the last time you checked how far your pickles have traveled? I'm not sure about where you live, but around here, it seems that most pickles come from India. Surprisingly, the pickles from India are considerably cheaper than those from closer countries including Canada and the US. Sure, labour is cheaper in India, but do I really want to buy a jar of pickles that has a larger carbon footprint than I do? Not only that, but many developing nations still use certain agrochemicals that have long since been banned in these parts. The risk just doesn't seem worth it, and with many of us trying to eat locally where possible, the supermarket pickle just doesn't factor into the 100 mile diet. So imagine my thrill when I happened to luck upon some pickling cukes a couple weeks ago.

I've always wanted to give gherkins a go, but was never certain whether or not I should risk it. I've tasted some great homemade pickles and then there were the others. But 7 lbs of free cukes had to be a sign that the planets were properly aligned for success in this endeavor.

Around these parts, there are many who make their pickles in the washing machine. Yes, you heard me right, the WASHING MACHINE! Not only was I intrigued, I had to try it. I admit, I felt a little odd throwing 7 lbs of pickling cukes into my washing machine and starting the gentle cycle. The feeling that this had the potential to go very wrong loomed heavy in the air. I twiddled my thumbs nervously while listening to the clunking of something akin to washing running shoes in the machine. Finally, the machine stopped. I held my breath as I opened the door. And there they were, 7 lbs of very clean, firm cukes. At this point, I knew that all would turn out well.

If you dare, this is approximately what I did:

Put cucumbers in the washing machine and run through the gentle cycle.
Put cucumbers in kitchen sink, cover with cold water and soak overnight.
In the morning, drain the water.
Sterilize mason jars (the amount you need will depend on how many cukes you have).
Boil the required number of lids for a min. of 8-10 minutes to soften the rubber ring.
Make brine: Approximately 4 cups of pickling vinegar, 12 cups of water, 3/4 cup of pickling salt, sugar to taste if you want a little bit of a sweeter pickle.
Bring brine to a good boil.
Fill jars one at a time. I stuff dill, mustard seed and chopped onion in the bottom of mine and then pack in the cucumbers. Pack the cucumbers tight. It's amazing how many can fit in one jar.
Cover with simmering brine.
Clean the rim of the jars to ensure there isn't any salt or other residue to prevent the jars from sealing. Put on lids and tighten rings.
Process jars. If any don't seal, keep them in your fridge where they will keep for quite some time.

Wait at least a couple days before trying them to ensure the flavours have time to meld. When making the pickles, make sure you find the brine palatable as it determines, in large part, the flavour of the pickles.

Success

2010-08-30T11:39:00.001-07:00

What is Success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Jammin'

2010-08-17T13:50:00.001-07:00

It's that time of year again when the trees start to be laden with fruit and preserving hangs heavy in the air. As luck would have it, I was gifted a box of jamming cots. I hardly eat jam myself as I prefer to stay away from anything with too much sugar in it, however, it's always nice to have around the house for when company arrives. And truth be told, I can't resist how pretty the jars look sitting on my shelf. There are also the odd times when I come across a recipe that calls for apricot jam and it would be a pity to not have a jar or two around considering how easy it is to make and how plentiful the fruit is this time of year.

I did save some of the fruit for smoothies as I am crazy about smoothies and have been freezing up fruit where possible to get me through the winter.

As you can see, I also made some spicy red pepper jelly. Now this is a treat that I will indulge in every now and again. It's a real hit around the holidays if you pair it with crackers and cream cheese. If you'd like the recipe, you can find it here.

Today's Mantra

2010-08-16T20:13:00.000-07:00

I pledge to see all challenges, joys and sorrows as the ground from which I grow. All things are interdependent, temporary, and empty of inherent existence. When it comes time to part, I will try to look back with joy. One cannot hold onto anything forever.

Looking Up

2010-08-13T00:05:00.000-07:00

The clouds
look no nearer
than when
I was lying in the street.

Still Waters

2010-08-10T01:59:00.000-07:00

The journey has been long and I am weary. Let me rest here but a little while before the wind once more whips at my back spurring me on.

Another Favorite

2010-08-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

I seem to be on a roll with recipes these days, so why stop when there's momentum? The abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables this time of year make salad a no brainer and often in summer, that's all I will eat for days on end. Well...that and ice cream. In any case, I've always loved Greek salad, but to eat just that for a meal always left me a little less than satisfied. Then a few years ago, I put together this:

It's my version of a beefed up Greek salad minus the beef, and yes, completely satisfying. Now I'll try to give you the recipe, but if I'm not totally precise, forgive me, I usually cook by feel and taste.

Lentil Salad

1 C French Lentils (if you can't find French lentils, I am sure that regular green lentils will work, but these are my absolute favorite and the hold their shape well.
3 C Water
1 or 2 Tomatoes
1 Long English cucumber
1 Pepper (green or red...whatever you have on hand)
1/4 Red Onion
Feta Cheese
Olive oil
Balsamic vinegar
Juice from 1/2 lemon
Pinch of sea salt
Fresh ground pepper

Boil the lentils in the 3 cups of water for about 45 minutes or until they are tender but still hold their shape. Drain any excess water. Chop up the tomatoes, cucumber, pepper and onion into medium chunks. Toss with the lentils. Make a dressing with the olive oil, balsamic vinegar and juice of the lemon. Pour over top and toss. Crumble the feta cheese on top. Give it one last toss. Add a pinch of salt and fresh ground pepper to taste. Enjoy.

I'll probably be making this again in a day or two will try to be a little more precise on those dressing measurements. Of course if you have your favorite dressing that you make with Greek salad, you could easily substitute it. I am sure that it will taste just as good.

Marvelous

2010-08-04T05:28:00.000-07:00

If you thought chocolate mousse was a good deal, you're in for an even better one. Light airy meringues topped with cream and fruit has become my new summer favorite. Seriously, I could eat one a day. And even better, they are so easy and way less finicky than the mousse to make. Let's hear it for MMMMmmmmm marvelous, mellow, meringues. Today was brought to you by the letter M.

4 egg whites (room temperature)
pinch of salt
3/4 C sugar
1 tsp cornstarch
1 tsp lemon juice

1 1/2 C whipping cream
1/4 c sour cream
2 Tbsp sugar (or to taste)
1 tsp vanilla extract
Fresh fruit of your choice: strawberries and kiwi; strawberries and blueberries, raspberries and peaches; whatever you have on hand and whatever you enjoy.

1. Preheat oven to 225
2. Line two cookie sheets with wax paper.
3. Whip the egg whites and salt until frothy.
4. Add the sugar a little at a time and keep beating until egg whites form stiff peaks. Fold in cornstarch and lemon juice.
5. Spread the meringue onto the cookie sheets, shaping them like little nests using the back of a spoon.
6. Bake for 1 1/2 hours. Check them after 20-25 minutes and turn the oven down if they are turning brown. They would be dry and crisp when done.
7. Remove from wax paper and cool on a rack.
8. Whip cream and when thick, add in the sour cream sugar and vanilla.
9. Pile the cream and then fruit on top of the meringues.

Solitude is Blessed

2010-08-02T15:25:00.000-07:00

This video was shared via Facebook. I've watched it a few times now, and each time am equally enthralled. Today seems the appropriate day to share it as I've spent the day puttering around the house...alone. I am, luckily, a person, who for the most part, does not mind being alone. Oh sure, I like interacting with others, but I also chose to embrace and cherish the time when I can keep myself company and be my own entertainment. I have no idea how unusual that is as each of us experiences the same differently. So if you find yourself by yourself, play this little video and think about how lucky you are.

Chocolate Moose

2010-07-31T14:29:00.000-07:00

Morris stood there swaying on his gangly legs, munching on whatever tasty morsels he could find. Occasionally he would cock his ears and toss a completely uninterested glance in my direction, mostly at my pathetic whistles. Typical male, eh? Well, serves him right to serve him up with chocolate. There ain't no better way to eat moose. Let's be quite frank here, most things do taste better with chocolate. Melt it and then drizzle it lightly or thickly, add cream, because most things taste better with cream too...and yes, of course, it has to be real. Someone really was dreaming when they dreamt up Dream Whip and thought they could pass it off for the real thing. Well everybody, let's hear it for Morris! Mmmmm Mmmmorris.

*Thanks for being such a good sport, fella. You're pretty yummy. Don't worry...if they don't catch on, we'll post the real pictures later.*

Chocolate Mousse

1C Sour Cream
1C Whipping Cream
1 1/2 tsp unflavoured Gelatin
2 Tbsp Water
2 Tbsp Milk
1/4 C Brown Sugar (firmly packed)
1/8 tsp Salt
6 oz of Chocolate Morsels (of course you can estimate...I personally like using a rich dark chocolate)
1 tsp Vanilla extract
2 Egg Whites

In large bowl, combine sour cream and whipping cream. Refrigerate.
Soften gelatin in water by heating.
Heat milk with half the brown sugar, and salt until the sugar dissolves.
Add chocolate morsels and continue heating until melted (be careful to not overheat...you may want to melt your chocolate first and then add to your milk/sugar mixture).
Beat egg whites. Gradually add remaining sugar. Beat until stiff.
Stir 1/4 of the beaten egg whites into the chocolate mixture until blended.
Fold in remaining egg whites.
Whip cream mixture until stiff.
Add chocolate mixture and fold until well blended.
Spoon into dishes and chill until set.

Riding the Wave

2010-07-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

I see you looking into my eyes and I wonder what you are searching for as you find yourself lost in a sea of blue.

You Talking to Me?

2010-07-20T20:02:00.001-07:00

Well at least I'm not that rotting albatross hanging around your neck.

Strength

2010-07-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

Then very suddenly, she silenced the loud voices who were trying to tell her who she was and what she could be.

Coffee, Tea, or ....

2010-07-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

There are at least three possible parts to a date, of which at least two must be offered: entertainment, food, and affection. It is customary to begin a series of dates with a great deal of entertainment, a moderate amount of food, and the merest suggestion of affection. As the amount of affection increases, the entertainment can be reduced proportionately. When the affection IS the entertainment, we no longer call it dating. Under no circumstances can the food be omitted.

Colonization in Reverse

2010-06-30T10:17:00.000-07:00

Or English girl eats her first mango...

(a kind of love poem by John Agard)

If I did tell she
hold this gold
of sundizzy
tonguelicking juicy
mouthwater flow
ripe with love
from the tropics

she woulda tell me
trust you to be
melodramatic

so I just say
taste this mango

and I watch she hold
the smooth cheeks
of the mango
blushing yellow
and a glow
rush to she own cheeks

and she ask me
what do I know
just bite into it?

and I was tempted
to tell she
why not be a devil
and eat the skin
of the original sin

but she woulda tell me
trust you to be
mysterious

so I would just say
it's up to you
if you want to peel it

and I watch she feels it
as something precious

then she smile and say
looks delicious

and I tell she
don't waste sweet words
when sweetness
in your hand
just bite it man
peel it with the teeth
that God gave you

or better yet
do like me mother
used to do
and squeeze
till the flesh
turns syrup
nibble a hole
then suck the gold
like bubby
in child mouth
squeeze and tease out
every drop of spice

sounds nice
me friend tell me

and I remind she that ain't
apple core
so don't forget
the seed
suck that too
the sweetest part
the juice does run
down to you heart

man if you see
the English rose
she face was bliss
down to the pink
of she toes

and when she finish
she smile
and turn to me

lend me your hanky
my fingers are all sticky
with mango juice

and I had to tell she
what hanky
you talking about
you don't know
when you eat mango
you hanky
is you tongue

man just lick
your finger
you call that
culture
lick your finger
you call that
culture

unless you prefer
to call it
colonization
in reverse

Mango Salsa

2010-06-28T17:50:00.000-07:00

Every time I make this, it's a little bit different depending on what I have around. The only constant is mangoes and delicious. The other day I made it minus the cucumber, plus avocado, some fresh pineapple and both red and green peppers. It pairs especially well with fish. I like it with fish tacos, but served it yesterday with salmon. One word ... yummy.

Mango Salsa:

1 ripe mango pitted, peeled and diced (if you're unfamiliar on the best way to attack a mango, you might want to check out the following link: How to Cut a Mango)
3 or 4 green onions chopped (or sweet Spanish onion would be good if in season)
2/3 C of cucumber peeled and diced
1/2 C red pepper diced
a little lime zest
3 Tbsp of fresh lime juice
1 Tbsp or 2 of Gin or Tequila (optional)
2 or 3 Tbsp of fresh cilantro leaves chopped

Combine all ingredients in a bowl.

Spice with either 1 minced Jalapeno pepper, Louisiana hot sauce, or a bit of Chipotle pepper in Adobo sauce, and a bit of chilli powder and salt & pepper to taste.

Alone

2010-06-03T09:59:00.000-07:00

How deep is a grave?

A six-foot shaft in the soundless earth.

A bleeding turf.

A fill.

Then soon, just a deep seamed scar

On a lone green hill.

Breath of Hope

2010-05-08T10:46:00.001-07:00

Deep inside all new beginnings, there breathes a song of hope.

Pay Attention

2010-04-25T18:09:00.000-07:00

"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again."

~Maya Angelou

Exceedingly Nice

2010-04-15T23:21:00.000-07:00

I am so enamored with the delightfully delicious lyrics from Charles Edward Carryl's almost forgotten 19th century poem, the Sleepy Giant brought back to life by Natalie Merchant's smokey sweet voice. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Who would've known? Little boys do not like being chewed.

Our Children Will Accuse Us

2010-02-08T23:43:00.000-08:00

How much responsibility will we bare? Will we be able to forever get away with ignorance as a defense for our inaction? Should we not demand more for ourselves? For our children? The following is a short preview for the film "nos enfants nous accuseront." It's in French and English and subtitled. Heartbreaking, but worth the watch.

Lessons

2010-02-02T23:14:00.001-08:00

It is true that we do not know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we do not know what we have been missing until it arrives.

Nostalgia

2010-01-15T09:11:00.000-08:00

When she finally got back to her old home town, she found it wasn't the old home that she missed, but her childhood.

Mama Mia

2010-01-10T11:57:00.000-08:00

I have such happy childhood memories of pasta. My neighbours growing up were Italian and one of my earliest memories was being left at Rosa's house when my mother went into labour with my sister. Rosa hardly spoke any English at the time, a few words here and there, mostly commands. She had three children and we were all close in age: the twins a year older than me, and the youngest my age, minus a couple months.

I distinctly remember Rosa feeding me. My indignant three year old self was quite annoyed as I was allowed to feed myself at home. To add further insult to injury, she allowed her youngest (same age as me) to feed herself. I couldn't quite understand why she felt the need to personally feed me when her youngest went unassisted. Perhaps it was because I was the guest, but more likely than not, it probably had something to do with me being the scrawny neighbour kid with the long skinny legs. I am sure she felt my scrawniness was some fault of my parents, rather than a combination of genetics and spending hours running around outdoors like a wild banshee.

So there I sat as she spoon fed me saying "mangi, mangi" or something of the like. The trouble was I have always been a slow eater. Rosa continued shoveling one spoonful into my mouth after another. I simply could not chew and swallow fast enough and eventually had such a full mouth that I had to spit it out or risk choking to death...so out it all came much to Rosa's chagrin and dissatisfaction. The irony, even at three, did not allude me. Had she simply let me feed myself, as I was quite capable (at least in my mind) of doing, none of that would have happened. But despite that minor blip, I did love Rosa's cooking, especially her pasta. She usually made spaghettini which not only tasted delicious, but each mouthful felt incredibly luscious and deeply satisfying as it made it's way down my throat and into my stomach.

Lately I've been having a craving for homemade pasta, so yesterday was the day. I'd forgotten how easy it is to make and how much better fresh pasta tastes than the stuff bought at the grocery store. The recipe below is for a small batch. I'd recommend doubling it depending how many you're hoping to feed.

Basic Pasta

1 C durum semolina
1 egg
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp water (if and as needed)

Put all ingredients in a food processor. For this batch, I added some fresh cilantro (just because I had some in my fridge that needed to be used), some basil and some fresh ground pepper. Be creative, add what you wish. Basil is my favorite, but you can add a variety of other herbs and spices or even vegetables to flavour the pasta as you wish: oregano, nutmeg, spinach, grated lemon peel, poppy seeds.

Once the dough is well mixed, put it through your pasta maker. I just have a little hand crank one, but it works well for small batches. You could also roll it out thin with a rolling pin and slice with a knife. I've known many to make noodles this way and then hang to dry if not using right away. Of course nothing beats them fresh.

A New Resolution

2010-01-01T21:50:00.000-08:00

As the New Year is rung in, many of us become reflective of who we are and where we are going. We make resolutions to change or better the parts of ourselves we believe are negative. In due time, many of us revert back to how we were previously and feel like failures. Not to minimize the importance and value of trying to be the best that we can, but this year I challenge you to a new resolution: I challenge you to be yourself. Sure, be kind, not just to others, but also to yourself. Be forgiving, if it's warranted and try to look at all situations through the lens of love. As Napoleon once said, "in the long run, the sword is always beaten by the spirit." May you have much spirit in the coming year. I wish you all an abundance of love and happiness. What more could we really want or need?

Merry Kitschmas

2009-12-25T14:39:00.000-08:00

Yes, even in the very heart of the Kootenays where beauty often surpasses beauty itself, kitsch is alive and well if you know where to look. And I wish I could add the sound bites that go with these photos. Yep, that's right, you've got the non-stop music ting-a-linging away as well. It's quite a scene. I mainly have two thoughts: first, where do they store all this stuff? Honestly, you haven't seen the half of it here. And the house is quite tiny, so I'm really not sure. And it's not just Christmas, almost any holiday that comes along, they've got a whole yard display. My second thought is that I hope that this is making some child extremely happy, although it could just as easily give nightmares. I certainly wouldn't want these images in my dreams.

Other than that, despite my silence, I wish you all extremely well. Life kind of got away from me for a bit and when I had the chance to sit still, that, not surprisingly, is all I wanted to do. And there is no better time to sit quietly than in these dark winter months. I am very much enjoying them, although I might protest the cold as I occasionally have want to do. I shall be back...most hopefully very soon.

One Thousand Years

2009-11-29T10:35:00.000-08:00

A thousand years from this tonight
When Orion climbs the sky,
The same swift snow will still the roofs,
The same mad stars run by.

And who will know of China's war,
Or poison gas in Spain?
The dead ... they'll be forgotten, lost,
Whether they lose or gain.

Of all the brilliant strategies
Of war-lords now alive,
Perhaps a Chinese iris vase
Of porcelain may survive...

Perhaps a prayer, perhaps a song,
Fashioned of love and tears,
But only beauty, only truth,
Will last a thousand years.

~T Malone

The Essence

2009-11-18T22:18:00.000-08:00

Myths are things which never happened but always are.
~Sallustius

Once in a Moon

2009-11-14T12:59:00.000-08:00

Your face reminds me
of a large full moon
on a dark cloudless night,
beaming down at the
deep, tenebrous, rumbling sea
whose fluid hips swirl,
dancing seamlessly around
the shimmering stars and
keeping rhythm to the
unvoiced song swimming
through the waves
in my head.

Blog Personalities?

2009-11-03T22:21:00.000-08:00

I just ran my blog through Typealyzer a tool that calculates your Myers Briggs Type Indicator based on the content of your blog. So I'm guessing, that in actual fact, this is my blog's personality and not necessarily mine. We do often adapt a different persona in different situations, do we not? I suppose, however, at some level, this is who I am, at least in part.

I suspected that perhaps the "Typealyzer" was basing its analysis on my blog's front page. So as not to take things for granted, I took it upon myself to run a few different pages / years through the analysis. They all came up the same, so I guess I'm pretty consistent in my writing, either that, or this is actually my personality. I haven't yet decided. In any case, Typeaylzer declared me to be: ESFP or extroverted, sensing, feeling, perceiving. Hmm... So here you have it folks...me the performer. Run your own blog through and let me know how it all pans out.

ESFP - The Performers

The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

Here are a few other characteristics of the ESFP:

Lively and fun
Live in the here and now
Often find themselves in the role of peace maker
Observant about other people
Spontaneous and optimistic
Love to have fun (who doesn't?)
Likely to be practical, but hate structure and routine
Have an appreciation for aesthetic beauty

Tree Planter's Waltz

2009-10-28T00:12:00.000-07:00

A little snippet of BC mountain culture for you. This was apparently filmed May 2009, however, if I didn't know better, I'd guess the filming in the Merritt night club took place sometime in the eighties. But then again, I have passed through Merritt, the culture is its own. Warning, the song will grow own you despite all protestations.

In the Spotlight

2009-10-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

I've boarded the train, scrutinized the numbers on my ticket amongst the the Chinese characters and meandered my way to what I hope is my hard sleeper. Next stop: Xian, the Terracotta Warriors with over 2000 years of history and an adventure in the making.

Shortly thereafter a couple arrives with a new born. The woman smiles and nods and then busies herself with the child. The man quickly engages in conversation as the train slowly begins to rattle its way along the tracks. I find the Chinese very curious and friendly. Canadians are well thought of in China due to Norman Bethune's participation in the Long March. "Canada and China...very good friends," the man tells me.

It hasn't taken me very many days to realize that our western sense of "taboo" is completely non-existent in this country. Just a day before, after a bout of food poisoning and looking incredibly jaundiced, a Chinese person came up to me and inquired, "so, is your skin white or is it yellow?" How does one explain that? Normally, if I feel good, not quite so yellow. One would never get away with pointing out skin colour in Canada...it just simply isn't politically correct. Here, however, absolutely nothing is off limits, except perhaps criticism of the government.

As the train creeps through the country side, We pass a series of your standard Chinese shanty shacks. Farmers toil the fields accompanied by mangy looking dogs. Eventually, up a dusty hill, I see an unusually luxurious looking residence. Officially the Chinese can't own land, or so I've been told, but the man is most obviously nervous about this topic and the sharp contrast of this house compared to those we saw previously.

The conversation turns back on the baby. With the one child rule, children are spoiled and doted on. These parents, like so many others, are beamingly proud. My mind keeps flitting to a particular fair haired, blue eyed "waspy" looking friend back home who had allegedly been born with a mysterious "Mongol spot", a dark spot at the base of the tailbone which I've been told is common place amongst almost all Asian children. The spot usually disappears when the child is anywhere between two and four years of age. For years, this girl's doctor teased her of being descended from Genghis Khan, for the spot is sure "proof" of Mongol blood. I wonder. It is not something that I had ever witnessed. Was it true?

Eventually curiosity overcomes my reserved, stoic upbringing. I have to know...so I ask, "is it true?" The father immediately flips the child over and whips off her bottoms and there it is. I'm stunned. I no longer remember what I had imagined, but it certainly wasn't this...a big dark blue, round spot that looks like a huge bruise. The father explains that there is a myth about a benevolent goddess...although looking at the size of the spot, I'm not quite sure how benevolent she could be. When the child is coming into the world, if the goddess decides to spare the child's life, she gives it a hard smack on the bottom right as it makes its way into the world leaving this big round blue spot. This young girl has been spared and apparently blessed.

Elderberry Magic

2009-10-03T23:53:00.000-07:00

Here I've done it again. Life has gotten in the way, and I hardly have time to breathe, let alone blog. But for the past couple of weeks, I've been ruminating about everything I want to tell you about Elderberries and quite frankly October couldn't be more perfect month to broach the topic, for no tree is so magical, nor none surrounded by as much folklore and mystery than that of the Elder. Alas, it is the tree upon which it is purported that Judas hanged himself, as Langland's Vision of Piers Plowman stated:

'Judas he japed with Jewen silver, And sithen an eller hanged hymselve.'

Although the branches of the Elder are so willowy that I find it hard to believe that anyone could hang himself upon such a tree. But perhaps, as another tradition states, the tree only became that way after the cross of Calvary was made with it:

'Bour tree - Bour tree: crooked rong
Never straight and never strong;
Ever bush and never tree
Since our Lord was nailed on thee.'

But the Elder's mystery and folklore predate Christianity. Heathen myths of northern Europe talk about Hylde Moer, the Elder-tree mother who lived in the tree and watched over it. Should the tree be cut down and furniture be made of it, Hylde Moer would follow her property and haunt the owners. In fact, if one wanted to cut from an Elder tree, he had to first ask permission and not cut until consent was given through silence to prevent ill luck from befalling him.

Numerous other bizarre superstitions regarding the Elder extend well beyond the small borders of northern Europe. Russians believe the Elder tree to drive away evil spirits, Bohemians go to it with a spell to take away fevers and Sicilians believe that sticks from the Elder tree will kill serpents and drive away robbers. In England it was once thought that the Elder tree was never struck by lightening and that a twig of Elder tied into three or four knots and carried in one's pocket would prevent rheumatism. Some in Britain also collected Elder leaves the last day of April and affixed them to their doors and windows to prevent witches from entering their homes. In Denmark, one might see the fairy king and all his attendants go by, simply by sitting under an Elder tree on Mid-summer's Eve.

But more exciting than all this folklore, is what I shall get to in my next post: the medicinal benefits and folk remedies that come from Elderberries.

Summer Harvests

2009-09-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

Most of you know that I get busy with things like canning this time of year. I really prefer eating foods that are regional, fresh, and in season. Nothing can beat the intense flavours of vine ripened vegetables or fruits. Summers are plentiful, but, of course, living in a northern climate, there's not much that's regional and fresh in the winter. Essentially, canning or freeing is the only way to capture those fresh flavours and save them for grey, dreary, dark days.

This year, like most, I canned a whole slew of tomatoes, essentially because they are so versatile and go in so many dishes. Some years I think I will eat less tomatoes...they are, after all, from the nightshade family, however, I haven't yet gotten to the point where I feel the necessity to eliminate them.

I also did up apple sauce. We have bumper crops of apples this year the likes of which haven't been seen in years. Old trees in the mountains, which haven't produced much in years, have boughs bending to the point of breaking they are so heavily laden with fruit. Apples are definitely on the menu this fall and some sauce for the winter.

I don't always, but this year I also did up a couple batches of tomato sauce. It's nice to have sauce already prepared and to be able to simply open a jar. I did one batch with a recipe from the Re-Bar cookbook and then made up a batch of my own making. Mine was heavy on the basil, with not quite as much garlic as the first batch.

I still have some more canning / food prep to do if I can find the time, but I essentially feel okay about the colder weather settling in.

The Plea

2009-09-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

Be the fire in my heart
Be the wind in these sails
Be the reason that I live
Give me hope to carry on.

Heavenly Concoctions

2009-09-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

My latest ice cream experiment was a screaming success and I have to share it before summer leaves us completely. I've learned a few things about home made ice cream this summer. First, the addition of alcohol keeps it from freezing so hard (an issue with non-commercial ice creams). Second, if one uses fresh (or even frozen) fruit, one can totally eliminate the cooking of an egg custard step found in so many recipes. This is a real coup if you are trying to eat raw. Now the real trick here is going to be to try to remember exact proportions of ingredients as a couple weeks have now passed since I first created this concoction.

Rum Raisin Peach Ice Cream

Take about a half cup of raisins and cover with rum. Let sit over night.

In blender, mix 1 1/2 C of cream, 3/4 C of sugar, 3 C of skinned chopped peaches, rum and raisins. Blend until thoroughly mixed. Put into your ice cream maker and process as usual.

How easy is that? Enjoy.

Zucchini Soup with Pasta

2009-09-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year when harvest is plentiful and cheap...if not free. If you've ever grown zucchini, you will know that they can go, or rather grow, a bit crazy. Many around here are continually looking for ways to use or disguise the stuff so their children will eat it. When they're not doing that, they are pawning these huge squash off to neighbours and friends. I never mind, I actually quite love the stuff and have used it in all kinds of things. I have never, however, up to this point made soup with it, but must say I was pleasantly surprised by how fresh, light and refreshing it was. It's just the sort of fair you need for this time of year. And of course, this is really simple to make. The taste almost reminds me of the soups my Italian neighbour from my childhood used to make. Rosa never ever, to my knowledge, put zucchini in her soup, but she always made these light brothy soups with little pasta like stellette, so different from the more substantial meal in a bowl type soups my mother usually made. In any case, if you'd like to try something a little different with your zucchini, I'd recommend this. It's perfect for a cooler, end of the summer evening and would be perfect served with a slice of crusty bread.

4 Tbsp olive oil
2 smaller onions finely chopped (or one large)
6 1/4 cups of chicken or turkey broth
1 1/2 lbs of zucchini (probably about 4 cups grated)
1/2 cup of small soup pasta (I used small bows, but use whatever)
a little lemon or lime juice
2 Tbsp fresh chopped parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper
cherry tomatoes halved
fresh grated Parmesan or another hard cheese of your choice

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and add the onions. Cover and cook gently for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft but not coloured.

Add the chicken or turkey broth and bring the mixture to a boil.

Grate the zucchini and stir into the boiling stock with the pasta. Reduce the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 15 minutes until the pasta is tender.

Season to taste with a bit of lemon or lime juice, salt and pepper. Stir in the chopped parsley. Just before serving top with some halved cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan cheese.

Enjoy.

Being

2009-09-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

At the end of the day, all that matters is who is in your life.

The Task

2009-08-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

There comes a time
when one must remove
all evil from his life.
Surgically cut it away
with a razor sharp knife
that runs deep and makes
the blood flow thick and fast
like the letting done
with leeches long ago.

Dreamy

2009-08-03T00:33:00.000-07:00

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

~W. Shakespeare

Anguish

2009-08-01T10:11:00.000-07:00

Thrust into the darkest part of the night,

I flailed about and hated the unordered chaos.

The ice burnt a hole in my heart,

And tears evaperated into bitterness

As anger held tight to my thrashing soul.

Good Things

2009-07-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at four litres / one gallon of raw, unadulterated farm fresh milk. This morning I made myself the best fruit smoothie I have ever had in my life. I think I will make yogurt next. I am in heaven.

Market Street Fest

2009-07-24T17:45:00.000-07:00

Nothing incites the imagination more than one of Nelson's summer street festivals. Hippies descend from the surrounding mountains to dance freely in the streets to local bands. The artistic crowd sets up tents and tables to display their offerings. A large smattering of Nelson's residents and many tourists turn up to enjoy the festivities and breathe it all in. It's a place to run into old friends and meet new, try Little Miss Gelato's new summer flavours or some old Doukhobor specialties. It's a place to be transported to another plane of reality (but we won't go there). Merchants keep their shops open late and there is no better place to sit back and do some serious people watching. If you happen to be passing through Nelson during the summer and you're curious to discover the "true" flavour of this unique little town, find out when their next street festival is and head down to Baker Steet.

Strategy

2009-07-21T23:02:00.000-07:00

"We are not retreating; we are advancing in another direction."

~Maj. Gen. Oliver Prince Smith

Profundity

2009-07-17T14:29:00.000-07:00

Think of an experience from your childhood, something you remember clearly: something you can see, feel,maybe even smell as if you were really there. After all, you were really there, weren't you? How else would you remember it? Well, here's the bombshell. You weren't there. Not a single atom that is in your body today was there when that event took place. Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you. Whatever you are, therefore, you are not the stuff of which you are made.

Crazy Making

2009-07-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.

~Winston Churchill

Unfortunate

2009-07-07T00:57:00.000-07:00

Adulterate: to debase or make impure by adding inferior materials or elements ; use cheaper, inferior, or less desirable goods; to falsify.

latin - "adulteratus": to falsify.

In one context, making an impure substance.

A substance can also be the opposite: unadulterated, pure.

In another to make a relationship impure, harmful and less valuable (adultery).

Big Celebrations

2009-07-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

I am a little slow in posting these, but Canada Day (July 1st) is marvelous here in the Kootenays. Everyone heads down to the park to listen to the music, sit on the beach, go swimming and participate in all kinds of festivities. This year was no exception. The activities started early and continued up until the fireworks display at the end of the day. I hope today is just as wonderful for all my American friends.

Tomatoes

2009-06-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

There is so much I would love to write about these days. Unfortunately, life has been busy and hectic and hasn't really allotted me the time I need to vent my thoughts. Summer has finally arrived and it's supposed to get significantly warmer before the week is up. This is all good news for my garden, particularly my tomatoes.

This year I decided to leave them in pots on my sundeck rather than plant them in the ground. I figured this would at least somewhat compensate for my poor soil conditions and would also allow me to protect them from the elements when needed. (We had a week of thunder showers where the rain was so heavy that I was convinced the second great flood was on its way. ) As you can see, my tomatoes are thriving where they are. I am not sure as to whether it's because they are in pots on my deck or whether the conditions all around (heat, rain, etc) are better this year. Last year I hardly got a tomato, and this year, it's not quite yet July, but I have one that's almost ripe and a few more that are well on their way. I've done two types of tomatoes this year: the large ones...I can't tell you the exact type, come from seeds that an Italian friend of my father's brought back from Italy. They are almost the same shape as a Roma, but much, much larger...think beefsteak tomatoes...I think last year my father had one that weighed about three pounds. They are the meatiest tomatoes I have ever come across. One slice will make a very large sandwich. There isn't a lot of juice that comes gushing out. They aren't hollow, they are solid flesh...perfect for making fresh salsa.

My other tomatoes are small cherry tomatoes (I have two varieties and no longer remember what they are). I am quite partial to these for salads as nothing quite packs a punch of flavour like they do. These tomatoes are not quite as far along as I started them much later. They don't yet have tomatoes on them, but they are full of blossoms and looking very healthy.

I also put some of my lettuce in pots on the deck as well. Some of them went in the garden, but I thought I'd try both. The lettuce in the pots on my deck have grown much faster and are much sweeter. Perhaps they were watered better, I'm not sure. The lettuce in my garden really didn't grow much until this last wave of heat. Perhaps the pots heat better and retain the heat. How's your garden these days?

Truth

2009-06-24T10:22:00.000-07:00

You'll never leave where you are until you decide where you'd rather be.

Small Realizations

2009-06-22T09:50:00.000-07:00

I recently had the following snippet of a conversation with a delightful international student that I have had the privileged of knowing and working with this year. I love how the wheels in the minds of children turn as a new realization sets upon them and expands their understanding of language.

DG - Carla... (slow and ponderous) is your hair blonde?
Me - Ya, I guess you could call it blonde.
DG - Oh...
Me - Well what colour did you think it was?
DG - I thought it was yellow.
Me - Hmm... I see...

Zesty Lemon Mousse

2009-06-17T07:46:00.000-07:00

You know you've stumbled upon a gem, when you bring a dish to a staff party and the entire building asks for the recipe. This is exactly the category in which this lemon mousse falls. It's light, not too sweet, and pairs well with berries and white wine and probably even chocolate. I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I have. The recipe doubles easily, and for as quickly as it will disappear, you are probably best to do so, or you will find yourself needing to whip up a second batch before you've scarcely finished the first.

Zesty Lemon Mousse:

1 pkg unflavoured gelatin
1/4 C cold water
1 Tbsp grated lemon rind
1/2 C lemon juice
1 C granulated sugar
2/3 C plain yogurt
1 C whipping cream

Sprinkle gelatin over cold water in a small sauce pan. Let stand 1 minute to soften. Stir over low heat until gelatin dissolves. Stir in lemon rind, lemon juice and half the sugar. Stir in the yogurt. Let set in the refrigerator until the consistency of egg whites.

Whip cream and add remaining sugar. Fold into lemon mixture. Cover and refrigerate for two hours or more.

Preservation

2009-06-11T13:33:00.001-07:00

"How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? ...This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know; all things are connected like the blood which unites our family. All things are connected."

~Chief Seattle of the Suquamish tribe states - 1848

Yum, Yum

2009-06-08T18:39:00.000-07:00

Awhile back Pandave told me that it was about time that I posted another recipe. Well, truth be told, I haven't been in much of a cooking mood lately. It's been way too warm to think about putting anything in the oven. So I got to thinking, why not ice cream. I had some blackberries in my freezer that I wanted to use up before the next crop started coming on. And voila...what's not to like about this recipe? With only three ingredients it couldn't be easier. And trust me, this one tastes as good as it looks.

Blackberry Sherbet

4 C of fresh or frozen blackberries (thawed)
2 C sugar
2 C buttermilk

In a food processor, combine the blackberries and sugar; process until smooth. Strain and discard seeds and pulp. (I strained through cheese cloth but couldn't bare to throw out the seeds and pulp, so I threw it all in my teapot, added hot water and had delicious blackberry tea.) Stir in buttermilk. If you have an ice cream maker, throw the mixture in and let the machine do its thing. If not, pour the puree into a 9X13 pan. Freeze for 1 hour or until edges begin to firm. Stir and return to freezer. Freeze 2 hours longer or until firm.

If you like, just before serving, transfer to a food processor; cover and process for 2-5 minutes or until smooth. This step probably isn't necessary if you use an ice cream maker.

Tyger! Tyger!

2009-06-07T07:31:00.000-07:00

Take a walk through the urban jungles with this magical short by Guilherme Marcondes of Brazil loosely based on Blake's, "Tyger! Tyger!" This mesmerizing little production combines puppetry, illustration, photography and CGI. Wow!

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symetry?

Goosey, Goosey, Gander

2009-06-06T07:12:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. I've been watching the goslings as they scurry along the beach and occasionally dip into the water, bobbing up and down with the goose and gander never far behind. They're much bigger now...in only a weeks time. Took some more photos this morning which I will post when I have a moment. There is actually more than one family, they form quite a posse. Of course they have to be vigilant in their guard. Last year I watched as an eagle took a swooping dive and plucked one of the little ones out of the water. Not anything anyone could have done. It was nature at its finest.

A Sad Tale

2009-05-30T08:12:00.000-07:00

Cherries are legend here in these valleys. Back at the turn of the century, and when I say that, I still mean the one before last, the cherries grown here were reported to be as large as plums and equally sweet and juicy. They were famous for being the best in all of North America, even better than the Okanagan which now grows many of our cherries. They were famous right across the country. J.T. Bealby, a Nelson fruit rancher, was quoted as saying:
"One of the most wonderful sights in a British Columbia orchard, and more especially a Kootenay orchard, is the cherry-trees when laden with their snow-white blossoms. Every branch, from its divergence from a large limb or the main trunk, right away to the outermost twig, is thickly feathered with clusters of blossom, and tufts of bloom cling even to the main trunk and large limbs. This is true of every variety of cherry alike, sour as well as sweet. The crops are, as a rule, enormously heavy -- so much so that the trees, and this applies to apples, pears, and plums, as well as to cherries -- have to be well supported with props to prevent them from breaking down under the loads they carry, and even then it is not an unusual thing for one or more branches to split off before the fruit can be gathered."

Indeed that bit about props is true. My parents have two very old apple trees in their yard (well over 100 yrs by now...they were put in shortly after the house was originally built) and last year that is essentially what happened. One of the branches on one of the trees was so heavy with fruit that the branch broke and my father had to prop it up and mend it hoping to save the apples on that particular branch long enough for them to ripen. But it is an old tree, so some years it takes a rest, but then there are years like last where there is a real bumper crop. Not bad for an old tree whose trunk is almost completely hollow that it totally baffles us that there is any fruit at all. But back to the story of the cherries.

Unfortunately, about 1933 a mysterious cherry disease hit destroying the thriving industry. The first symptoms were noticed at Willow Point, just around the bend from where I live. At the time, it was called, "Little Cherry Disease." Most disheartening was that infected trees only became obvious about two weeks before harvest. By this point, the damage was done, the cherries were small, lacked taste and sweetness, and were for the most part wormy. Once a tree was infected, there was nothing to be done but to cut it down, as the cherries from then on would be as such. By about the 50's the disease had decimated the industry and all cherry trees were ordered to be cut down to try to stop the spread which by now was determined to be transmitted by infected insects.

At the time, the source of the outbreak was not known, but it has since been determined that Japanese Ornamental cherries were carrying the disease in symptomless form. There were three specimens of these trees growing not far from the original outbreak on the property of Selwyn Gwillym Blaylock, the rich vice-president and general manager of a mining smelting company which later became known as Cominco (this property is just a ways down the road in the other direction from me). He had a passion for gardening and had beautiful grounds surrounding his estate. The grounds purportedly featured one of every species of tree native to Canada as well as many other ornamental trees and flowering shrubs. Blaylock encouraged frequent guests, including foreign dignitaries to bring gifts of trees and shrubs from their native land to add to his collection. But this was not how he had acquired the particular trees in question. They had been imported by Blaylock himself. He had officially inquired about the importation of Japanese Ornamental Cherries and had been told that the trees were diseased and not to be imported. He decided to smuggle them in anyways.

So thus is the story of cherries in the Kootenays. Infected trees were to be removed, but it was tough as there were and still are so many wild cherries growing out in the woods which of course, by this point has probably also been diseased. Cherry orchards have since been re-established around Creston, the far end of Kootenay lake, and indeed the cherries are good. But the industry has never gone back to what it once was.

The Visitor

2009-05-14T00:29:00.000-07:00

This cute, thieving little bandit decimated my tulips a couple weeks ago. I apologize for the photo...but dusk had already fallen when I took the snap, so I had to lighten it, giving it a rather grainy texture. Animals are quite abundant at this time of year. As soon as spring hits, they make their way down the mountain side looking for some tasty morsels after the bland winter fare. One evening I came home to find three in my yard, or rather on the outskirts. This one was a loner who was quite startled when I opened the door to try to get a shot...shot with my camera that is. He immediately took off at a trot, but not before he had bitten off almost all of my tulip heads. Tulips are apparently quite sweet. Ironically, they never touch the daffodils. I have a ton of them. Deer aren't the only beasts lurking about in the spring. Last week a bear took apart my compost box trying to find a good feed. I didn't actually see the spectacle as occurred, but witnessed the mess later. Luckily a kind neighbour put the box back together for me. There was a Grizzly just this past week who was wandering about a neighbourhood just a few miles out the lake. A conservation officer had to be called in as apparently nothing was scaring this fellow off. These aren't overly common occurrences, but do occur regularly in the spring.

Forgiveness

2009-05-13T00:36:00.000-07:00

Easter weekend I received a call from a good friend, and in the spirit of Easter, she ended our telephone conversation with, "may all your sins be forgiven." I can't recall anyone ever having said that to me before and I've never known this girl to be at all religious, so initially, I was a little taken aback. However, the more I thought about it, the real message of Easter is the hope we have of experiencing the grace of forgiveness, and certainly, there is not much that is more freeing than being forgiven and being able to forgive.

Forgiveness is a lesson that took me a long time to learn, not that I didn't want to forgive, but that I didn't truly understand it. Forgiveness is not at all for the transgressor but rather the person who is doing the forgiving. Forgiveness is the act of untying oneself from the thoughts and feelings that bind us to the acts committed against us. It is a conscious decision to let go of resentment and thoughts of revenge and to move on with one's life. It is the ability to pick up our shattered self and move beyond in a quest to find that centre of peace which makes us whole again.

Forgiveness, however, does not mean that one denies or condones the wrong committed against them or others. Forgiveness also doesn't guarantee reconciliation nor does it absolve the transgressor from restitution. Reconciliation is a much larger process of which forgiveness plays but one small part. Now that last point is probably where my confusion began. At one time, I believed my forgiveness was what was needed to bridge the chasm created by the transgressor. But alas, it was the responsibility of the transgressor to rebuild that bridge. In the process, I've learned to listen to actions rather than words, as for some, sickly lies come easy, but the body always reveals its true intent.

Undoubtedly, you have now realized that the threads of another story are quietly weaving themselves within the layers written upon this page. Now is not the time for me to go into all the lurid details, however, know that the road is never smooth when one is called upon to proclaim the truth in the shadow of her tormentor. These coming days are gray and I cannot yet see beyond the bend in the road, so if you can find it within yourself to say a prayer on my behalf or throw a positive thought in my direction, I would be most appreciative.

Wisdom

2009-05-02T23:49:00.000-07:00

We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.

~ William Shakepeare

Period of Grace

2009-04-20T18:24:00.000-07:00

I apologize to all for my silence. It's been a rather busy month. Busy and then company. But the worst was when my internet connection went down. I am still waiting for the technical issue to be resolved...hopefully this week. Shaw has promised to send an IT technician on Wednesday. In any case, I haven't abandoned you, nor jumped on the Facebook bandwagon. I have posts started, even if they're not completed, and I look forward to getting back online soon and catching up on all your stories.

April Fools

2009-04-01T10:15:00.000-07:00

On April 1, 1957 the British news show Panorama broadcast a three-minute segment about a bumper spaghetti harvest in southern Switzerland. The success of the crop was attributed both to an unusually mild winter and to the “virtual disappearance of the spaghetti weevil.” The audience heard Richard Dimbleby, the show’s highly respected anchor, discussing the details of the spaghetti crop as they watched video footage of a Swiss family pulling pasta off spaghetti trees and placing it into baskets. The segment concluded with the assurance that, “For those who love this dish, there’s nothing like real, home-grown spaghetti.”

The Swiss Spaghetti Harvest hoax generated an enormous response. Hundreds of people phoned the BBC wanting to know how they could grow their own spaghetti tree. To this query the BBC diplomatically replied, “Place a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best.”

To this day the Panorama broadcast remains one of the most famous and popular April Fool’s Day hoaxes of all time. It is also believed to be the first time the medium of television was used to stage an April Fool’s Day hoax.

Chocolate-Coffee Gingerbread

2009-03-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

This recipe is a keeper if you like a rich, moist and flavourful cake. The gingerbread flavour would be perfect around Christmas time, but since I woke up to snow this morning, I see no reason why I shouldn't be eating this now. Terrific with a cup of coffee and dolloped with plain whipped cream.

Nonstick vegetable oil spray
2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp ground ginger
1 cup sugar
1 cup molasses
1 cup mild flavoured olive oil
3 large eggs
1 cup freshly brewed coffee
1 cup chopped bittersweet chocolate (60% cocoa)
1/4 cup chopped crystallized ginger

Preheat oven to 350 ˚F. Generously butter a 12 cup Bundt pan (or two smaller Bundt pans), then spray with nonstick spray. Dust pan lightly with flour. Whisk 2 cups of flour and the next 5 ingredients in medium bowl to blend. Combine sugar, molasses, olive oil, and eggs in large bowl; whisk until well blended. Add dry ingredients and stir to blend. Mix in hot coffee, then chocolate and crystallized ginger (most of chocolate will melt). Transfer batter to prepared pan.

Bake cake until tester inserted near center comes out clean and cake begins to pull away from sides of pan, 55 to 60 minutes. Transfer pan to rack; cool cake in pan 20 minutes. Turn cake out onto rack and cool at least 1 hour.

Life Over 100

2009-03-30T10:37:00.000-07:00

Perhaps some of you have already read this, but it is too beautiful not to share. This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News.

In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. I hope you laugh as much as I did.

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My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.

He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

'In those days,' he told me when he was in his 90s, 'to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.'

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:
'Oh, bull!' she said. 'He hit a horse.'

'Well,' my father said, 'there was that, too.'

So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.

My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines , would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.

My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. 'No one in the family drives,' my mother would explain, and that was that.

But, sometimes, my father would say, 'But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one.'

It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.

But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.

It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts,
loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.

Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.

So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. 'Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?' I remember him saying more than once.

For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.

Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.

(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)

He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.

If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests Father Fast ' and 'Father Slow.'

After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: 'The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored.'

If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along
to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, 'Do you want to know the secret of a long life?'

'I guess so,' I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.

'No left turns,' he said.

'What?' I asked.

'No left turns,' he repeated. 'Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.

As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn.'

'What?' I said again.

'No left turns,' he said. 'Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three right s.'

'You're kidding!' I said, and I turned to my mother for support 'No,' she said, 'your father is right.. We make three rights. It works.' But then she added: 'Except when your father loses count.'

I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.

'Loses count?' I asked.

'Yes,' my father admitted, 'that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again.'

I couldn't resist. 'Do you ever go for 11?' I asked.

'No,' he said ' If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week.'

My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.

She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.

They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)

He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.

One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.

A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, 'You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred.' At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, 'You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer.'

'You're probably right,' I said.

'Why would you say that?' He countered, somewhat irritated.

'Because you're 102 years old,' I said.

'Yes,' he said, 'you're right.' He stayed in bed all the next day.

That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.

He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:

'I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet.'

An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:

'I want you to know,' he said, clearly and lucidly, 'that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have.'

A short time later, he died.

I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.

I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, Or because he quit taking left turns.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets.

So love the people who treat you right.

Forget about those who don't.

Believe everything happens for a reason.

If you get a chance, take it.

If it changes your life, let it.

Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.'

Waiting

2009-03-29T23:10:00.000-07:00

Winter just doesn't want to release its hold this year. Sure, we've had a few sunny warm days, but then the north wind blows in our direction leaving a trail of frost in her wake. We were enshrouded in fog again today as snow angrily inched its way down the mountain side. The winter jackets and boots are safely ensconced at the back of the closet and I just haven't the heart to pull them back out again. I've resorted to wearing layers, usually about five so that I can adjust depending on what the weather decides to do and it seems to change numerous times throughout the day. I saw one lone crocus trying fearlessly to cheer up the barren yard wondering when the rest would make their debut. The whole lot of them have decided that late is fashionable and it's questionable whether they'll even turn up for Easter. Just the same, I've decided to will spring. I've hauled out my pots, filled them with dirt and various sorts of seeds. Some have been sitting on my window sills for the last week, and the rest I finished up today. It doesnt seem to matter how many times I do this, the thrill is just the same when I see them finally poking their heads through the dirt. Now if it were only warm enough that I could start working out in the yard.

Miracles

2009-03-25T22:25:00.000-07:00

Saturday ten guardian angels floated through the mountain mist and landed upon my sandy shores.

Absolute bliss.

Hamlet as Facebook Feed

2009-03-19T21:42:00.000-07:00

Horatio thinks he saw a ghost

Hamlet thinks it's annoying when your uncle marries your mother right after your dad dies.

The king thinks Hamlet's annoying.

Laertes thinks Ophelia can do better.

Hamlet's father is now a zombie.

The king poked the queen.

The queen poked the king back.

Hamlet and the queen are no longer friends.

Marcellus is pretty sure there's something's rotten around here.

Hamlet became a fan of daggers.

Polonius says Hamlet's crazy ... crazy in love!

Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Hamlet are now friends.

Hamlet wonders if he should continue to exist. Or not.

Hamlet thinks Ophelia might be happier in a convent.

Ophelia removed "moody princes" from her interests.

Hamlet posted an event: A Play That's Totally Fictional and In No Way About My Family

The king commented on Hamlet's play: "What is wrong with you?"

Polonius thinks this curtain looks like a good hiding place.

Polonius is no longer online.
Hamlet added England to the Places I've Been application.

The queen is worried about Ophelia.

Ophelia loves flowers. Flowers flowers flowers flowers flowers. Oh, look, a river.

Ophelia joined the group Maidens Who Don't Float.

Laertes wonders what the hell happened while he was gone.

The king sent Hamlet a goblet of wine.

The queen likes wine!

The king likes ... oh crap.

The queen, the king, Laertes, and Hamlet are now zombies.

Horatio says well that was tragic.

Fortinbras, Prince of Norway, says yes, tragic. We'll take it from here.

Denmark is now Norwegian.

Mmmmoooo

2009-03-14T17:43:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, I remember my mother drinking buttermilk. She said it reminded her of the fresh milk she drank as a child, the milk you get straight from a cow. It's tartness made my lips pucker and I never fully appreciated its tangy flavour...that is until traveling in southern Germany. I can't say precisely what triggered this new found appreciation. Perhaps it was the fresh mountain air, seeing the cows grazing on the hillside, the abundance of food that flooded my mind with childhood memories, food that felt like home. Whatever it was, I felt compelled to give buttermilk another chance. I don't know why I didn't appreciate it sooner, I had always loved everything else dairy (even though I try to limit it in my diet these days) and there really isn't much of a jump from yogurt to buttermilk. In fact, it's kind of like drinking Yop, although much more economical. I simply throw some buttermilk in my blender along with some fresh or frozen berries (today the feature fruit was blackberries, gathered fresh last summer and lovingly stored in my freezer). Sometimes I add a little maple syrup if the fruit is especially tart, and voila...instant meal chalk full of nutrients. I guess tastes change, because I love the stuff now. Or perhaps the appreciation was there all along and I just didn't know it. Is this sort of stuff hard wired into us?

Poor Marie

2009-03-08T20:52:00.000-07:00

The guillotine drops.

I fall into a deep abyss.

Darkness envelopes
My aching head.

Kootenay Kritters

2009-03-04T13:32:00.000-08:00

Gerhard and Gunda have, as of late, become semi-permanent fixtures in the neighbourhood. When they first started frequenting the premises, they would waddle hurriedly across the yard throwing angry honks in my direction if I showed up unexpectedly. They have since become more accustomed to my comings and goings at odd hours. They mainly sit upon the berm, Gerhard puffing up his chest surveying his realm, Gunda more interested in what yummy morsels she can find to fill her tummy. She casts a glance in my direction, proudly displaying her morning find dangling from her mouth before slurping it down. I was once told that the Canada Goose mates for life. Gerhard and Gunda do seem mighty fond of each other. Where there is one, the other is never far behind.

Buttermilk Blackberry Muffins

2009-03-01T19:01:00.000-08:00

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 Tbsp grated lemon zest
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 large egg
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
4 Tbsp melted butter
1 1/2 cups frozen blackberries (or other frozen fruit)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly grease 10 muffin cups.
Combine flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and lemon zest in a medium sized bowl.
Measure (into 4 cup liquid measure) buttermilk, lemon juice, egg, vanilla. Beat gently until smooth.
Slowly pour this mixture along with the melted butter into the dry ingredients. Stir using a rubber spatula until dry ingredients are moistened. Carefully fold in blackberries. Don't over mix.
Spoon batter into the prepared muffin tins.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until lightly browned on top and a toothpick insered into the center comes out clean. Remove muffins from pan and place on a rack to cool.

Beauty in Unexpected Places

2009-02-18T22:25:00.000-08:00

Perhaps some of you have already read about the social experiment organized by the Washington Post on perception, taste, and priorities of people. If you haven't, it went something like this:

A man stood at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin.

It was a cold January morning in 2009. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the case and without stopping, continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for awhile. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

Now here is the real shocker. No one knew, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston with the average seat cost being $100.

This experiment leaves us with several questions. In a commonplace environment, at an inappropriate hour do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing? Today, take the time and truly look for the beauty fully expecting to see it.

The Aftermath

2009-02-17T21:32:00.000-08:00

I feel like I'm taking a real hiatus from my blog this month. Life is a chaotic frenzy and I'm convinced that they no longer make days with the same number of hours as they once did. Like everything else, they're cheaping out in that department. I did take time on Saturday, however, to throw on my Fluevogs and a feather boa. Hey, if a girl can't wear a boa on Valentine's day, when can she? And then I went to check out Hugfest. It was definitely a feel good, pay it forward sort of event. I'm not bragging or anything, but I certainly got my share. Perhaps it's not "the magic bullet" that will solve all the world's problems, but there certainly weren't any grumpy people lurking about and smiles and laughter seemed to abound. So go ahead, find someone and give him or her a hug. Bonus points if you don't know the person. You might just make somebody's day.

Hug Fest

2009-02-07T13:14:00.000-08:00

I feel so neglectful lately. I've hardly had a chance to drop in and say hi, let alone post anything. But today, I wanted to send hugs out there to all of you. Scientists have proven that hugging slows aging, improves sleep and increases intelligence. Pretty cool, isn't it? And if that's not enough, just think of that fantastic warm and fuzzy feeling it gives you. For any of you who feel you could use some more hugs or just simply want to come and test the theory, feel free to drop by Baker street between Stanley and Ward from 11 am to 1 pm on February 14th for the annual Inspire Nelson Valentine's Hugfest. I can't think of a better way to beat those winter blues and banish the grey away. Guaranteed to make you smile.

The Undoing

2009-01-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

Dampness penetrates the bones. Dirt refuses to wash away. At night memory explores my skin, roaming about while I sleep. The sea comes to take me for its own, the roaring thunder deafening my thoughts. I wake, face down in a swamp, lungs burning with the smell of earth. I can't escape. Nothing releases me...not death in dreaming, not waking. This is how I become undone by a smell, a word, a place, a thought...

Tragedy

2009-01-19T21:57:00.000-08:00

February 1897
(Herman is the one in the top right hand corner)

Seldom is there encountered a more distressing experience of accident, exposure and suffering than is reported in the case of Herman Lund, a young Norwegian freighter, who was found lying in the road 20 miles from Cold Harbor, McLean county, with one leg and one arm broken, both legs and arms frozen stiff, having lain there crippled and helpless from Saturday night until Tuesday morning without food or shelter, and not having once slept or lost consciousness. Lund is a young ranchman who lives at Coal Harbor, and he has been freighting between Coal Harbor and Velva, the nearest railroad point. On Saturday night he started for home with a load weighing 6000 pounds on his wagon, and while walking beside the wagon to keep warm, slipped and fell under the wheels of the wagon, which passed over him, breaking a leg and arm and badly crushing them. The team walked on a few steps and stopped, and Lund lay there helpless, unable to move, the thermometer nearly at zero point, his broken leg and arm swelling rapidly and causing him intense pain, while his extremities began to freeze and added to his agony. For three nights and two days he lay there, suffering excruciating pain the entire time. The accident happened but three miles from the ranch, but he lay in a little hollow which could not been seen from the ranch. The horses remained a few feet from him, but he was too badly injured to reach the wagon and was not found until 60 hours after the accident. After Lund was found, it was necessary to drive him 75 miles to this city (Bismark) for medical treatment, and an examination by local physicians discloses the fact that it will probably be necessary to amputate both legs and arms so badly are they frozen. Lund says that never once in the 62 hours he lay there did he lose consciousness. His worst pain was when his extremities were first attacked by the cold and began to freeze. After they had frozen, they were numb, and it was this fact that prevented his going insane from the agony. The unfortunate man is but 23 years of age, and it is doubtful if he survives the operations which will be necessary.

Twinkle, Twinkle

2009-01-17T00:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Christmas comes a little early and sometimes it arrives a little late, but happy surprises are always welcome no matter when they arrive. Yesterday Rupert arrived on my doorstep. He apologized for not making it in time for Christmas, but explained that like me, he has the travel bug. When he knew he was making the trek all the way here, he decided to stop a few places along the way. I can't really blame him, I probably would have done the same, especially since holiday travel can be so grueling if one needs to get somewhere fast.

" Besides," he said, "the weather was just dreadful there for a little bit." But to make up for his tardiness, he brought me a little treat: a sweet tin full of gummi bears... "oops, they're not really bears," he said, " it would be odd a bear bringing bears as a treat, don't you think? "

"Of course," I replied. So in actual fact, they are sheep. Just as well, I can count them as I fall asleep.

Rupert is getting along fabulously well with the crew and we have brilliant conversations. I'm sure we'll be bestest of friends as we pop gummi sheep while he intimately whispers me all his secrets. And of course he gives the bestest of best bear hugs.

Lost Generation

2009-01-15T16:43:00.000-08:00

This really is quite brilliant and gives us all reason to hope. We can put faith in those who will come after us.

Perspective is Everything

2009-01-12T09:01:00.000-08:00

Clod and Pebble

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair."

So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these meters meet:

"Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite."

~Blake

Laughter, the Best Medicine?

2009-01-08T21:50:00.000-08:00

I recently read an interesting article on happiness. It seems that researchers have devoted a fair amount of time and money to this subject. So what did they find? Well, pretty obvious stuff. We don't get there by working like a dog or spending a ton of money. But the answer really has been there all along. It's wisdom that we've probably heard numerous times throughout our lifetime...things like: look on the bright side, laughter is the best medicine, smile and the world smiles with you. In terms of what we should do: smile, laugh, sing, dance, spend time with friends, family and children, make time for fun, exercise, get sunshine, get involved in the community, celebrate. All these things elevate our mood and strengthen our immune system. They also possibly lengthen our lives.

In terms of the pursuit of happiness? Scientific research indicates that we should actually be pursuing joy over happiness. So many of us are looking for that "magic bullet" that will make us happy. The thing is, how do we measure happiness? It's a rather vague concept. Joy, on the other hand, is quite quantifiable.

MRI scanners have tremendously increased our understanding of the functioning of the brain. And one of the amazing things that scientists have discovered is how much of the brain is dedicated to positive emotion, or rather joy.

Joy is easily measured by looking at hormone changes, endorphin levels, blood oxygen and watching human connections. Joy, experienced through all those things mentioned previously (singing, dancing, laughing, smiling) rewards its users with health, improved immunity and many times a sense of purpose.

Other things we should be aware of? Having fun is good for you! It's a powerful de-stressor. Stress is a major factor in most illnesses and diseases, in fact, I once heard one figure that claimed as much as 90%. How do we have fun? Any child can easily tell you the answer to that one...play. With play comes laughter, bonding, smiling and humour. All good.

According to Chinese medicine, worry sits in the stomach. Perhaps that's why when we're stressed or worried we say that we have knots in our stomach. The remedy for this? Singing. Seriously, I had a Chinese doctor who explained that worry can go so far as to physically affect us with a prolapsed stomach and the remedy is to sing. I even had this proven to me, which I couldn't possibly properly explain here. Let's just say that it's something you have to experience. But if you know what's good for you, you will now all immediately break out into song. Well, at least hum a tune.

Laughter is next on the list. It is so important. In fact, it might just be the secret fountain of youth. Don't people who really truly laugh a lot seem more youthful? Nothing makes us look older than we are than a sour face. And even better, laughter is contagious. Think back to a time where you just couldn't quit laughing. Probably you weren't alone. Perhaps when you would just about have it under control, you would glance over at that other person and just lose it. The cycle would start all over again, laughter bouncing off the walls, tears in your eyes and your sides aching from so much giddiness. Do you remember how good that felt? It's something that we should all make an effort to do more often.

The next thing that science is starting to confirm that will make you all want to immediately "lighten up," is that seriousness is a manifestation of permanent stress. Seriousness is signalled by the promotion of stress, lack of sense of humour and a resentment of fun. Now who wants to be that guy? Some cardiologists even believe that a serious attitude leads to heart disease and science is now coming very close to proving this. The reality is that seriousness mimics a stress reaction. It causes blood vessels to tighten and raised levels of cortisol can be measured in the bloodstream. Is it possible that seriousness might be a low level form of permanent stress?

Finally, the last thing that we should be making an effort to do, is to act happy. You know, fake it 'til you make it. It's long been established that thinking positive thoughts can change our perspective on the world. New research suggests that meditation, and a positive outlook can fight depression and elevate mood. Other research has shown that the mere act of smiling, even if we don't initially feel happy, actually triggers changes in our brain chemistry that boost those hormones that do make us feel happy. It's kind of like going through the motions until we authentically feel it. Yes, indeed, we can actually practice being happy and in the process become much better at it.

Addiction

2009-01-05T00:02:00.000-08:00

Any foodie on Canada's west coast is probably addicted to Leslie Stowe's "Raincoast Crisps." So imagine my delight, when, while visiting a friend, she serves up what I am convinced are none other than the Raincoast crisps with an assortment of cheese and I discover that she has made them herself. Of course I just had to have the recipe and make them as soon as possible. These little bites are chalked full of goodness and absolutely amazing with raw goat cheese, brie or even just on their own. The raisins, or whatever dried fruit you use, add just a hint of sweetness and I love the nutty flavour. My tastbuds are still dancing.

2 C flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 C buttermilk
1/4 C brown sugar
1/4 C honey
1 C raisins (or other dried fruit...try cranberries, orange peel, or a mixture)
1/2 C chopped nuts (I used almonds, but you could also use pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts, etc)
1/2 C roasted pumpkin seeds (optional)
1/4 C sesame seeds
1/4 C flax seed, ground
1 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary

Preheat oven to 350 F

In large bowl stir together flour, baking soda, salt. Add buttermilk, brown sugar and honey. Stir a few times. Add dried fruit, nuts, seeds and rosemary and stir until just blended.

Pour batter into two 4 x8 greased loaf pans. Bake for approximately 45 minutes or until golden and springy to touch. Remove from pans and cool on a wire rack.

Next you must slice very thin. This step is easier the cooler the loaf. Leave until the next day, or pop in the freezer to cool. Slice as thin as you can and place the slices in a single layer on an ungreased cookie sheet. Reduce oven to 300 F and bake for about 15 minutes, then flip them over and bake for another 10 minutes until crisp and a deep golden.

Guaranteed to become an addictive habit.

For Strong Women

2009-01-04T09:43:00.000-08:00

A strong woman is a woman who is straining.
A strong woman is a woman standing
on tiptoe and lifting a barbell
while trying to sing Boris Godunov.
A strong woman is a woman at work
cleaning out the cesspool of the ages,
and while she shovels, she talks about
how she doesn't mind crying, it opens
the ducts of the eyes, and throwing up
develops the stomach muscles, and
she goes on shoveling with tears
in her nose.

A strong woman is a woman in whose head
a voice is repeating, I told you so,
ugly, bad girl, bitch, nag, shrill, witch,
ballbuster, nobody will ever love you back,
why aren't you feminine, why aren't
you soft, why aren't you quiet, why
aren't you dead?

A strong woman is a woman determined
to do something others are determined
not be done. She is pushing up on the bottom
of a lead coffin lid. She is trying to raise
a manhole cover with her head, she is trying
to butt her way through a steel wall.
Her head hurts. People waiting for the hole
to be made say, hurry, you're so strong.

A strong woman is a woman bleeding
inside. A strong woman is a woman making
herself strong every morning while her teeth
loosen and her back throbs. every baby,
tooth, midwives used to say, and now
every battle a scar. A strong woman
is a mass of scar tissue that aches
when it rains and wounds that bleed
when you bump them and memories that get up
in the night and pace in boots to and fro.

A strong woman is a woman who craves love
like oxygen or she turns blue choking.
A strong woman is a woman who loves
strongly and weeps strongly and is strongly
terrified and has strong needs. A strong woman is strong
in words, in action, in connection, in feeling;
she is not strong as a stone but as a wolf
suckling her young. Strength is not in her, but she
enacts it as the wind fills a sail.

What comforts her is others loving
her equally for the strength and for the weakness
from which it issues, lightning from a cloud.
Lightning stuns. In rain, the clouds disperse.
Only water of connection remains,
flowing through us. Strong is what we make
each other. Until we are all strong together,
a strong woman is a woman strongly afraid.

By: Marge Piercy

Shades of Grey

2009-01-03T10:05:00.000-08:00

Think of me on a snowy day when the north wind hastily exhales her frigid breath in your direction. When you're inside, warm, protected and have almost forgotten our once bold memories, I pray you the window to open a crack. Allow me to return. In sacred slumber our past lies riding lightly on the wave of a dream. I have replaced my heartbeat with your name.

California Rolls

2009-01-02T10:00:00.000-08:00

For those of you still wondering how I use my pickled ginger, I usually serve them with these: California rolls. For years I bought California rolls as they are such a healthy snack, easily transportable and a good alternative for those trying to avoid wheat. Eventually I tried making them with not the best success, but then had a friend share the secret. Truth is that these are so easy I now make them quite often. They are showy for entertaining and quite popular here in the west.

California Rolls:

1 C rice (use either sushi rice or alternatively another sort of short grain rice. It is stickier and holds together better)
1/4 C rice vinegar
1 - 2 tsp sugar (depending on taste...more if you have difficulty with your rice sticking)
1 tsp salt
1 ripe avocado (peeled and cut into long thin slices)
1 English cucumber (peeled and cut into long thin slices)
1 carrot (julienne sliced)
toasted sesame seeds
sheets of nori seaweed
mayonnaise

Cook the rice according to directions. Once the rice is cooked, stir in the sugar and rice vinegar and salt (the sugar and vinegar help the rice to stick more...problems start to occur if the rice does not stick). Let the rice cool completely.

Lay a bamboo sushi mat on the counter with the slats running horizontally (you can find these at most kitchen stores for a dollar or two. You can make the rolls without this, but it certainly facilitates the process). Place a sheet of nori on the mat. Spread rice on the sheet leaving a 1 inch border across the top edge. Arrange the avocado slices in a horizontal line across the middle of the rice. Add cucumber and carrot in the same manner. Sprinkle the sesame seeds. Put a light layer of mayonnaise on the top border of the seaweed that you left free. Grab the edge of the mat closest to you and roll the nori away from you as tightly as you can pressing the roll as you go. Seal by pressing the edge with the mayonnaise against the roll.

Use a sharp serrated knife to slice the rolls. I often wrap the rolls and refrigerate them for an hour before slicing them. Serve with soy or tamari sauce for dipping along with wasabi. Top with pickled ginger.

You can be quite creative in what you put inside the rolls. Avocado is always a favorite for me, but you could do things like smoked salmon and cream cheese, crab meat, eggs, sprouts or a varity of other vegetables. Enjoy.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T22:00:00.000-08:00

As we venture into the new year, many of us get reflective. We ponder our life thus far, think about where we want to go, create resolutions, decide what we will no longer do, what we will do from hereon in. I'm perfectly okay with goal setting, but have never really been one for making a large set of resolutions. I am more of a free spirit who cherishes her freedom to follow at will whatever opportunities present themselves. I have difficulty being strictly regimented. I find it a kill joy that stifles creativity. But that being said, I do respect those of you who do go the resolution route. Life would be so utterly boring if we all did things the same way and I've always been of the opinion that what works for one does not always work for another. That being said, I really like the idea that Chani presented over at "Finding My Way Home," to chose a word for the new year: the idea being to "create a theme for the year...a central concept that will change the way we look at things." The lens with which we look at life may not change our circumstances, but it can change how we react to events that come our way and I think that this makes all the difference. If you had to choose a word, what word or words would you chose?

As many of us are looking inward and being reflective, I thought you might enjoy this short animation by Lasse Gjertsen as he ponders the age old question, "who am I?"

Happy New Year everyone. I wish you all joy, happiness, peace and lots of love in the coming year.

Culinary Curiosities

2008-12-28T23:58:00.000-08:00

“Well, we tried the lutefisk trick and the raccoons went away, but now we have got a family of Norwegians living under our house.”

Nothing, aside from perhaps language, ties us to our culture more than food. In an instant, food can bring back the comforts of childhood. It’s soothing and can stimulate a flood a memories like nothing else.

In my family, around the holiday season, we were inundated with goodies, many of them Norwegian treats that we rarely ate at other times of the year: lefse, rosettes, krumkake, fattigman, almond rice pudding… foods, at which the mere mention, make me salivate. These treats strengthened our bond with the other Scandinavian brethren in the area with whom we made much merriment as Christmas neared and during the days of festing that followed. But of all that bonds Norwegians, nothing bonds us more, than lutefisk. It is one of those dishes that every single Norsk has a strong reaction too. Whether we love it or hate it, we do so with passion. In my family, it was not on the menu, although I have kin who rave about it, and perhaps the emphasis should be on the word, “rave.” Personally, I side with a Norwegian friend who put it like this, “Lutefisk is not food we actually eat, it’s a test to see if outsiders really, really want to marry into our family. How much do you love my child? Eat this lye soaked fish to prove it.”

For those of you who have never heard of lutefisk, you did not just misunderstand. It is indeed lye soaked fish or more precisely, dried cod soaked in lye and then boiled. That’s right, sodium hydroxide, you know the stuff you use to clean drains, which will burn you chemically if you come in contact with it, and will explode when in contact with aluminum. It is also a major ingredient in soap. So what does this delicacy actually taste like? Well, when all is said and done, the fish has a translucent jelly like appearance and doesn’t taste much of anything. It certainly isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever eaten, although I do question its safety. The taste mainly comes from what you eat with lutefisk. Usually it’s drenched (and I mean flooded) in melted butter, and then often additionally topped with bacon. Boiled potatoes and stewed peas usually also make an honoured appearance beside this delicacy.

For those of you still morbidly curious or intrigued, check out the following videos.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T23:59:00.000-08:00

Wishing you and your loved ones the happiest of holidays and a new year full of peace and love. Merry Christmas.

These pictures are from Christmas on Baker Street earlier in December. The tradition is to have part of the main street shut down. One of the local supermarkets provides food and hot chocolate. Various groups perform carols and other Christmas music. Animals are brought in from a local farm...I'm not sure whether all the animals are babies or just miniatures, in any case, they delight the children almost more than anything else, especially those who get to ride the donkey.

Military Musings

2008-12-18T00:33:00.000-08:00

Do you know what astonished me most in the world? The inability of force to create anything. In the long run, the sword is always beaten by the spirit. Soldiers usually win battles and generals get credit for them. You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war. If they want peace, nations should avoid the pin pricks that proceed cannon shots.

~Napoleon Bonaparte

Heart

2008-12-17T09:13:00.000-08:00

At the heart of each of us, whatever our imperfection, there exists a silent pulse of perfect rhythm, a complex of wave forms and resonances which is absolutely individual and unique, and yet which connects us to everything in the universe.

~George Leonard

Pickled Ginger

2008-12-13T23:41:00.000-08:00

I did a little experimentation with my canning this summer and strayed just a bit beyond the regular tomatoes and jams. I ventured into the domain of pickled ginger. I tried just a couple jars as I didn't quite know how it would turn out or if I would even like it, but overall I'm against the expensive pink stuff that's sold in stores, mainly because of the red food dye...I try to avoid anything with dyes or other chemical additives and too much sugar. In any case, according to all who tried the goods, the recipe was a huge success and just perfect for California rolls. So I've made up some more jars as gifts for some special friends. If you'd like to try your hand at making this...it's really simple...here's the recipe:

10 ounces of fresh ginger peeled (I simply guessed on this, do enough to fill two small jars or double the recipe for five)
2/3 C rice wine vinegar
1/2 C sugar
1/2 tsp salt

Put about 4 cups water on to boil. Shave the ginger lengthwise into paper-thin slices with a vegetable peeler or mandolin. Blanch it in the boiling water for about one minute. Drain and put into jars (the water can be saved for tea or broth if you like). Put the vinegar, sugar and salt in a pot and gently heat to dissolve the sugar. Pour into the jars to cover the ginger. Prepare lids and process in a hot water bath to make them seal. If you don't want to be bothered with sealing the jars, you can close the containers and refrigerate for 24 hours to allow the flavors to combine before using. This will keep in your refrigerator for up to a month. This little jar definitely carries punch and will keep you warm this winter.

Sleigh Bells Ring

2008-12-12T23:14:00.000-08:00

Are you listening?

My mother lent me her beautiful antique sled for the holidays. I've filled it with fresh boughs...plenty of those around here, and put it on my front steps. I keep thinking that the bright red would look smashing against the snow. Presently we're in the middle of a snow storm so I don't dare set it out or I won't be able to find it by morning. I've had to shovel my driveway three times today. That's right, you heard me. We're going to have a white Christmas.

Candle of Peace

2008-12-08T10:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked the lighting of the second candle on the advent wreath. Last week, the first candle, the candle of hope was lit, and this week is the candle of peace. Peace is possible. It's in our hearts waiting to be felt. We all have the potential to experience joy and a certain peace that dwells within. If I can hope for anything as we approach this holiday season, it would be that peace would dwell in all of our lives and would shine out as a ray of light in this dark season, that we would set aside the busyness that the holiday sometimes brings and remember to reach out to those who are alone or have lost loved ones, that we would spread joy and peace to all those around us.

Viking Laws

2008-12-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

On the rare occasion, we find something that will or has passed the test of time. I think you will find this is still good advice even in this day and age.

~1. Be brave and aggressive

be direct
grab all opportunities
use varying methods of attack
be versatile and agile
attack one target at a time
don't plan everything in detail
use top quality weapons

~2. Be prepared
keep weapons in good conditions
keep in shape
find good battle comrades
agree on important points
choose one chief

~3. Be a good merchant
find out what the market needs
don't promise what you can't keep
don't demand overpayment
arrange things so that you can return

~4. Keep the camp in order
keep things tidy and organized
arrange enjoyable activities which strengthen the group
make sure everybody does useful work
consult all members of the group for advice