R.I.P. Civility, Propriety & Respect

This past week, we celebrated our our 21st anniversary. My hubby planned a romantic, overnight getaway to Niagara Falls for dinner, a show, some gambling and, the piece de resistance....a Saskatchewan Roughrider/Hamilton Tiger Cats game on the way home today. I suspect that the game came before the romantic part, but it's the thought that counts, right?

When we arrived at the hotel, we had a couple of hours before dinner, so I gave in to my cold and slept. We changed out of our travel clothes and into something more appropriate for The Watermark Restaurant atop the Hilton and headed up for dinner.

OK, so this is Niagara Falls. Maybe not known for it's classy establishments. But if you can afford to pay $50 for a plate of prime rib, you can certainly afford to wear something better than a sweatsuit to eat it in. We weren't dressed to the nines, but this isn't Arby's or McDonald's. Coincidentally, I wouldn't wear a sweatsuit anywhere but in my house.

We watched as a couple entered the restaurant, he in shorts (hello??? it's almost November!!!), she in an old sweatsuit. An older gentleman sitting behind us with his wife and and another couple was dressed in a suit, but he kept his cowboy hat on. Take the damn hat off when you are in a building!

I recently saw some photos on Facebook of guests at a wedding. I didn't know it was a wedding, until I saw a picture of a bride and groom. I thought the photos were of some people at a pub. Young men in jeans and t-shirts, with baseball caps on backwards. Their ladies were dressed in appropriate attire, so it obviously wasn't a surprise that they were going. I just don't get it.

I was always taught that you dressed appropriately for the occasion. So was my husband. He would never dream of showing up at a funeral parlor in anything but a suit. Same thing for a wedding. No jeans to church. Does God care what you wear? Probably not. It is just a sign of respect. And that my friends, is the kicker.

Respect for one another doesn't exist anymore. At concerts. In restaurants. In church. On the road. I fear we are fast becoming a generation of egotistical, belligerent, entitled misfits.

Do we not teach our children what is right and wrong anymore? Do we live our lives thinking that we are entitled to offend the people around us by our actions? This isn't just about what we wear, it's about how we live our lives.

We were so impressed when we first met our daughter's boyfriend. He came in the door and the first thing he did was to remove his cap, shake my husband's hand and say "Hello Sir". Two small gestures and two words. We immediately knew that this young man was raised with manners and a sense of decorum. When it came time for him to join our daughter at a formal occasion, he couldn't afford to buy a suit, but he had a pair of dress pants and he bought a dark shirt and tie to make it as formal as he could. The point is that he TRIED.

Many of you out there (if anyone reads this) will think that I am a stick-in-the-mud. "Oh come on, it doesn't matter what people wear". Yes it does. It doesn't take money to take off your hat indoors. Or to say excuse me. Or to leave the sweatsuit at home if you can afford a meal that will cost you over $100 for two.

Frankly, I'm tired of rude people who haven't learned right from wrong. How about using some common sense and having respect for others?

IHOP, P.F. Chang's and the good ole U.S. of A.

Clearly, I am on a food kick this weekend. Myron and I are off to San Diego in a couple of weeks to meet up with our California friends for a week of more exploring. We are also going to visit Myron's former mentor and partner and his wife in San Luis Obispo.

My husband loves the U.S. and is not among the holier-than-thou Canadians who rant and rave about our neighbours to the south. But I digress.

Myron's passion for the U.S. is fuelled by two things. IHOP and P. F. Chang's. You can't imagine his joy at finding both of these places in one day. Dare I say that when we are planning a trip south of the border, he actually seeks both of these establishments on the net before we head out? Myron stumbled upon P.F. Chang's on a business trip to Los Angeles and was hooked. And now, of course, so am I. P.F. Chang's China Bistro is exactly what it sounds like. A Chinese eatery, that's gone uptown. The food is always good and the service is superb. It also helps that the P.F. Chang's in Michigan is attached to perhaps the most beautiful shopping mall in the state.

International House of Pancakes. IHOP. Myron's four favourite letters in the alphabet. My husband is generous to a fault but he loves a bargain. We don't have IHOP in Canada and so if there's one near where we are in the States, we're there for breakfast. It has always been a good deal, but once Myron turned 55, (and I am also past that milestone now) IHOP became even more attractive. We qualify for The Senior's Special. It's a really great deal. A stack of three for $2.99. IHOP is now a "POI" (Point of Interest) on our GPS. How sad are we?

The staff are efficient and down-home welcoming. In Michigan, we frequent one particular IHOP and Myron is convinced that in order to work there, you need to have at least one front tooth missing. Just adds to the charm of the place. Honest.

God bless the U.S. of A. We love it!!

While I'm on a roll.....

.....I thought perhaps you'd like to see what my mother and I accomplished one afternoon. Only two are shown, because it's either gluttonous or unfair to show you more.

My mom and I have had some lovely times making these delectable, dainty, dumplings. She's not able to make them all by herself anymore, and so I am learning the art of making "varenyky", or as most of you call them, "perohy" or "perogies".

The process starts the day before when I peel, boil and mash the potatoes. To them, I add fried onions. Lots of fried onions. Then, I take about a teaspoon of the mixture and form them into little balls and they are refrigerated until the next day, when the production line starts. Mom comes over and I park her at the kitchen counter while I proceed to make the dough. Mom used to make hers in her Cuisinart, but I prefer the old fashioned way....by hand. Can you believe it? I find it incredibly therapeutic to get my hands into the flour and to knead it until it transforms from a sticky, gummy mess into a soft, elastic, smooth round ball just waiting to be rolled out and cut. When the dough is rolled out (great workout for the biceps!), I cut them with my mom's old tin drinking cup, that is EXACTLY the right size and has been moved from their home of 40 years, to their condo, to my home.

Mom is the assembler of varenyky. She is riddled with arthritis in her hands, but still manages to expertly pinch the dumplings in no time flat.

Once they are done, I par-boil them and then they are cooled before being frozen. Our Girl took home 5 dozen with her to Ottawa last week and I hear they are almost gone. Sounds like a good reason to make more and take some to her!

What's important about this blog, isn't the varenyky, but about passing of traditions and recipes that will disappear if I don't get on this. It's about sharing time with mom and letting her know that someday, when she is gone, I will continue her recipes and her knowledge. And I will pass them on to Our Girl.

St. Lawrence Market

It's Saturday and it's cold and damp and generally, an ugly day. Myron and I headed down to the St. Lawrence Market to see if we could find some inspiration for tonight's dinner.

We are so lucky (see previous post!) to live in a city, in a country where food is so abundant. We walked up and down each aisle (mostly because Myron is a bit OCD when it comes to stuff like that) and took in all the sites and smells that the Market has to offer. The meat, the fish, the produce, the cheese!! Don't, I repeat, don't go there when you are hungry. Bad idea. You'll buy everything in site and probably eat a lot of it on the way home. You can find every cut of meat you want. Want ostrich? They've got it. Bison? Check. Camel steak? Yup. I kid you not.

We decided on lamb as I had a recipe for Lamb Korma with Cucumber Raita in one of my crockpot cookbooks. I'm in a crockpot mood lately and that is a sure sign of fall/winter comfort food. Tomorrow is Honey Hoisin Chicken.

We got all of our meat and poultry and then headed downstairs for the spices and rice. Who knew that there are so many types of rice? We decided on the "aged" basmati and it was incredibly flavourful.

On our way out, hunger won out and we bought a plate of ocean smelts and fries. It's something we've wanted to try (the smelts) and now we've done it. Didn't like it enough to do it again.

St. Lawrence Market is a gem in our city that I don't use often enough. That is going to change.

Giving thanks

This weekend is a time to reflect on those things we are thankful for. There's the obvious, of course.....for our families and for the blessings we all enjoy. Regardless of your religious or non-religious beliefs, "thanks" is a prayer in itself. If we all took the time to say "thank you" for what we have in our lives, we would be much better people.

It is purely by chance that we were born in Canada. How fortunate we are not to have been brought into a country where war and famine is not an everyday occurance. I'm not saying that there aren't hardships in this country, but it is nothing compared to what people endure in other parts of the world.

We have a young man in our parish who is leaving in November for Uganda, on a 13 month mission. He will try to help the people in his selected village learn how to live in a democratic society, after years of civil war and atrocities unimaginable to any of us. This amazing young man gave a talk on what he saw and what he learned on his orientation visit to Uganda. There were many times, where he had to stop to compose himself as he relayed stories about his visits with children who were kidnapped and turned into soldiers against their will. Of women who were repeatedly raped and beaten. Of men who had their hands cut off because they stole bread for their families. And yet, these people are hopeful. His mission is to help them find their way in this new life and to hopefully, cope with the demons that will surely haunt them forever.

This weekend, think of someone less fortunate than you. Give to a charity. Fill up that paper bag with canned goods and take it to a firehall. Help an elderly neighbour rake their leaves. Simply SMILE at someone. Being kind costs nothing, but the rewards you will reap are immeasurable.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner with loved ones this weekend. Just make sure that you pay it forward.

Hammacher Schlemmacher

I just received a copy of the Hammacher Schlemmer catalogue (I like Hammacher Schlem-macher better....it sounds like a deli sandwich). It's subheading says "Offering the Best, the Only and the Unexpected for 161 years". Unexpected, for sure.

Where do they find this stuff? There's always a photo on the cover of some unrecognizable contraption. This time it looks like some kind of two-wheeled cyber-cycle, but is actually a "programmable gaming robot". OK.

Here's a sample of what's being offered this month:

Spring Loaded Walking Shoes. They look like regular walking shoes, but from the description, they seem like just the thing for me. Sounds like they will do all the work for you, once you take that first step and then SPROING!!!!! Off you go. I have dreams like that.

The Tabletop Slot Machine. All I have to say is "mom".

The Personal Oxygen Bar. You plug this into your nose and switch on the "ethereal musical patterns" while you inhale away. I'd rather trot on down to my local oxygen pub in my spring-loaded walking shoes, and have a pint of air with my pals, wouldn't you?

The Animatronic Singing and Talking Elvis. This gruesome looking bust of Elvis changes facial expressions, moves and sings. When you walk past it, he blurts out things like "Bring it on back now". There's also a karaoke feature, so you can sing along with him. Oh, and his lip curls. Does anyone else think this is just a little creepy?

The Only Whole Body Massage Chair. From the photo, this recliner looks like it was designed by a mysogynistic gynecologist. And it's a steal at $6000.

The Better Mousetrap. This mousetrap looks like my dad's old lunch box (which makes it even weirder). The mouse is attracted by it's last meal (peanut butter or bacon bits are suggested...what? No fancy cheese??). Mickey or Minnie walks across three electrically charged plates and ZAP! It will hold TEN mice before it has to be emptied. Ewwwwwwww.

The Indoor Dog Restroom. This one has to be the most disgusting things I have ever heard of. Your pooch pees on the pad, which looks like grass, and it seeps down to the mat/reservoir below. Nice. I have a cousin who has a Bichon and she's been trained to go on piddle pads when she can't get outside (she's a condo pooch). My cousin is diligent at picking up Emma's business. Makes sense. This grassy-hide-the-pee thing, not so much.

Before you think that I'm down on Hammacher Schlemmer , I'm not. There are some really neat things in there that I'm almost tempted to order.

The Lighted Reading Glasses. Very smart idea. I hate to bother my hubby by turning on the light when I want to read in bed. Brilliant!

The Transparent Canoe Kayak. This would be so cool to take on vacation in the Caribbean. I doubt that it would fit in my carry on.

The Five Axis Mechanical Core Muscle Trainer. Yeah sure. Have any of you ever rode one of those electrical bronco things that claim to be an exercise machine. Uh huh. Just like a "personal vibrator" is for a stiff neck. Mine arrives in a week. $2000.

The Best Body Composition Measuring Scale. Sounds extremely accurate. Not ordering it.

Any of their pre-lit fake Christmas trees. In our house we usually have two Christmas trees. A real one in the living room and a fake one in the family room. Someday when we are downsized to our condo, I want to order one of these babies. They look absolutely sparkly and lush. I figure the next generation of these will also smell real and have a bare spot that you have to hide.

Wouldn't it be a blast to have a job as buyer for this company? I guess I'll have to settle for trying to figure out the machine that's on the next cover.

Gotta love Hammacher Schlemmacher <3

Binging and purging

Relax. I'm talking closets. At the moment, mine are bursting at the seams and I'm not just talking about the clothes closets. There's the storage room. There's the cold room. There's the furnace room. There's our girl's rec room. Where to start?

How is it that we accumulate so much stuff over the years and can't let any of it go?? We've been thinking about downsizing in a few years time and at the rate we're going, that's how long it will take to clear the junk out.

My clothes closet is literally packed with stuff....some I wear, some I don't...for various reasons. Clothes that I've hardly worn because they were a bad buy, clothes I'm tired of and clothes that are currently too small, but that I will fit into again sometime soon (as if). And yet, I keep on buying things. Of course, the things that I buy are absolutely perfect, compared to the stuff that is hanging there...oh wait, that stuff was perfect once too.

But the good news is that I feel a purge coming on. Myron wondered aloud yesterday what he was going to do with his time now that he's semi-retired. Do I have a job for him!!

So what's with this accumulation of stuff? A psychological issue? Naw. I just buy too much stuff and never get rid of it. There's no deep-seated reason for this. Although my "seat" may be one of the reasons. Ditto my husband. His waistline, like mine has expanded over the years. Giorgio Armani might want to come shop in HIS closet. We've also accumulated a load of exercise equipment in the process....hmmm....maybe I can hang some of the stuff on my treadmill!

Honestly, with the recession, I have tried to stay away from Winner's and I have. That's a good thing. But stuff has got to go and go it will. It's going to look like an ad for "California Closets". Goodwill and Sally Ann, here I come!

Chicago, Chicago, that toddling town

We've just returned from Chicago where we spent a few days with our friends Ginny & Randy. Randy is a rabid Green Bay Packers fan and for the past two years, we have met in Green Bay, Wisconsin for a weekend of nutso football fans, tailgate parties and of course, the main event. They fly from California and we drive. We always have lots of fun together, and that's really the main reason we meet (at least for Ginny and me!). This year, we begged and pleaded to go somewhere other than Green Bay. Honestly, when you google "fine dining - Green Bay", you get Arby's. So, the guys settled on Chicago. Randy gave up his Packers for our sake. Bless you Randy.

Chicago is a lovely city. It is so much more civilized than New York. I love New York, but Chicago is much less hectic. It's a city that works (are you listening David Miller??). Navy Pier is a wonderful place to spend an afternoon. Every Saturday night until the end of October, there's a fireworks display and it's a wonderful way to end an evening.

I guess one of the reasons I like Chicago is that it is a city of neighbourhoods. That's the one thing that Toronto does have going for it. Having grown up in Bloor West Village, I love the familiarity of a neighbourhood. Torontonians are either West Enders or East Enders and setting foot on the "other" side of Yonge Street is like being in a foreign country.

Chicago has beautiful boulevards with lots of trees and planters. Their lakefront is beautifully developed and we marvelled at the beaches.

Anyway, we walked, explored, ate, shopped and generally hung out. "The Game" was on Sunday at Soldier Field and it was certainly an experience. First of all, the tickets cost us a small fortune ($700 for Myron and me). According to the tickets, Myron suspected we were in the nosebleed section. Not so. We were in the "defibrillator/catheter-under-the- seat section", because once you made it up there, you were in full cardiac arrest and no one in their right mind would drink anything for fear of having to pee. I think the little ants on the field were actually football players, but I'm not sure. There was an amazing fly-past and I could read the "best before" date on the underbelly of the planes. Then, it started to rain. Then, it started to pour. We descended from on high into the dry concession area and Myron stood in a 45 minute line to get us some ponchos. 3 people before him bought the last ones. Some sweet lady surrendered two of hers to Myron (must have been his roguish manner that got to her) and he gallantly gave them to Ginny and me. Oh wait, no we wrenched them out of his hands. We ascended into the clouds once again (you think I'm joking here?) and huddled together, trying to share the ponchos, with no great success. We were soaking wet by the time we got the rain gear, but we sat out the rest of the game, determined to get every last penny's worth out of those tickets.

Our last evening was spent at a blues club called "Blue Chicago". The lady who was singing with the band was a very healthy, gravelly-voiced, black lady who could really belt 'em. The joint was grotty and smelled of beer, but it was a perfect end to our time with Ginny & Randy.

Our consolation at the end of the trip is knowing that we will be meeting up with them again in San Diego in 6 weeks.

And what the hell does "toddling" mean??

For the Love of Dance

Our Girl wants her pointe shoes mailed to her, so she can mount them on her wall. Patrick Swayze has passed away. I received an email today with a movie clip of Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell. Dance has always been my passion.

Patrick Swayze was an amazing dancer. His acting skills were OK. Certainly entertaining. I loved Ghost and To Woo Fong Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (where he played a drag queen and did it beautifully!) and of course, there's Dirty Dancing. I know that there are Dirty Dancing parties where people get together and make fun of the dialogue, but for me it was all about the dancing. Remember Flashdance?? Now there's a movie to make fun of.....the dancing was good, but Jennifer Beales didn't take one step on the dance floor....she had a double. So, in my mind, there's no comparison. When "Johnny Castle" took to the dance floor, well, he was sex on legs. I would have loved to have been Jennifer Grey. Dance afficionados will know that Patrick was classically trained and was a member of a ballet company, long before his acting days began. There was substance behind this guy. He knew what he was doing and man, he did it well.

What I most admired about Mr. Swayze though, was his devotion and commitment to his wife. They were married for 34 years and it was a love affair from beginning to end. I don't know anything about their personal lives, but the way she looked at him and the way he looked at her, told it all. I can't imagine what she's feeling today.

I have danced since I was three. What I didn't have was the dedication to do it seriously. I had the luck to study for a few years with a legend. Boris Volkoff (or Boris Karloff, as my grandmother referred to him) was a feisty, little Russian tyrant and he would never have made it in this "you can't speak to my child like that" generation. Boris threw his cane at you if he didn't like what you were doing. He would bounce his cane off your butt to see if you were contracting your gluteous maximus. He would humiliate you, with no concern for your ego. As a result, I learned. And knew exactly when I did something wrong and what to do to fix it, so as to not incur his wrath again. I loved it. He also showed a caring side. One day when I had a bad cold in the middle of winter, he admonished me for going out with no hat on my head. If anyone has seen any Degas paintings, you will have seen Boris. A little, old wizened man, hunched over his cane, who could glide across the floor like a swan when he needed to demonstrate.

I've had season's tickets to the National Ballet of Canada for 35 years now and still get lost in the beauty of Swan Lake or Romeo & Juliet, just like I did the first time I saw it. I've been told that when the company are taking their bows, that my head bobs, as if I'm up there with them. I wish.

My husband and I have been taking ballroom lessons for the last few years and I absolutely love it. Sometimes, for demonstration purposes, our instructor uses me as his partner. It makes my heart sing to be able to dance with someone who KNOWS what they are doing. I love my husband and I love dancing with him, but we do pretty simple stuff. When I dance with our instructor, I perform.

Our girl has danced since she was little and even though she will never be a professional dancer, at 19 she is still dancing, with her Ukrainian dance group and now she's looking into taking ballet classes in Ottawa. Her stage presence is electrifying. She just shines. She's inherited my love of dance.

Oh, and when no one is looking, I still practice pirouettes in my kitchen.

Thank you Mr. Swayze for your talent and your ethics. Dance with the angels.

Peaches

A while back I promised you a peach cake recipe....here it is! My nieces in Winnipeg salivate when I say I'm making this. Thanks to my elementary school buddy for the recipe!!

5 Star Peach Pie (more like 10 Star))

Crust

2 c. all purpose flour

2/3 c sugar

1/2 tsp salt

3/4 c butter

Combine. Pat into buttered pan and bake for 15 minutes at 350 degrees. Watch so that it doesn't brown.

Filling

2 beaten eggs

1/2 tsp almond extract (optional)

1 c sugar

1/4 c flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

3/4 chopped nuts (optional...I don't use them)

5 c peeled, sliced peaches (freestone work the best)*

Combine filling ingredients and pour over top of partially baked base.

Bake at 35o for 40-45 minutes. Let cool.

** to peel peaches easily, score them, drop into boiling water for a minute or two and then plunge into icewater. Skins slide off!

YUMMY!!!

Can I Return This??

Today was a good day with mom. She's been somewhat testy and that is my cue to spend more time with her. Her walking isn't very good and so our options are limited, but off we went on our usual trek - Walmart and IGA.

Today though, there was a bit of a detour. Mom announced that she wanted to buy a new fridge! Now, you have to understand that when my mother wants to buy something, it has to be HER idea and HER choice. I've brought home numerous blouses, linens, mats, makeup and it always get returned. Always. It seems like anything I get is wrong (damn, I'm just reminded that the box of red wine that I bought her needs to be returned and I forgot to take it with me). About a year ago, Mom decided that she wanted new living room furniture. The furniture she had was fine, albeit a bit dated, but it was good quality and in very good condition. Mom saw an ad in a flyer from The Brick. What marketing genius would call a furniture store The Brick? This set was obviously a mass-produced item, although who the masses were that wanted this stuff is beyond me. My husband wondered why on earth was she even considering it. I told him that Mom wanted to go see it and so, Mom was being taken to see it. As we approached the set, I could see that it wasn't quite up to even The Brick's standards, but Mom seemed enthralled with her choice. So, out with the old couch and in with the new. The homeless shelter that got her old set fared far better than she did.

The whole point of this story is that I have decided it's just easier not to suggest anything, let alone buy it. The frustration isn't worth it.

So, there's a new fridge coming and confidentially, it's a beaut! I'd have picked this one too, but I wouldn't tell Mom that, because then she'd have to return it.

Oh, and the sofa set? Mom knows it was a mistake, but she'll never admit that to me.

September 9, 1950

Today would have been my parent's 59th wedding anniversary. Dad passed away just after their 56th. Three years without him is hard for mom. I remember their last anniversary. Dad had a craving for a special dish that mom used to make. It was too difficult for her to do and so I made it for all of us. We got dad out of bed, wheeled him to the table and he was just too weak to have more than one bite. Miss you daddy.

Bon Appetit

Went to see Julie & Julia with The Kid. Delicious movie. I've been to Chapters umpteen times to snatch up a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and all copies are sold out. I've since learned that the book is in it's third printing since the release of the movie. Understandably! It almost felt sacrilegious to sit there, greasy popcorn bag in hand, munching away, while Julie/Julia created masterpiece after masterpiece. Washing down my popcorn with Coke, somehow didn't match the fine burgundy they were having with their boeuf bourgignon. I swear the theatre had "surround-scent", you could smell the aromas.

I am determined to expand my cooking repertoire. We have a friend who is a gourmand and a wonderful chef. Just yesterday, he posted a Facebook photo of some homemade bread and homemade butter. Homemade butter!!! I'm still shaking my head. Isn't that like the most amazing thing you've ever heard of??

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a bad cook. But that's just it. I'm a cook. People like Warren are "chefs". I learned at my mother's elbow....good, tasty food, albeit laced with lots of garlic and grease, a nod to my Ukrainian heritage. I have tried some semi-exotic things with moderate success, but I seem to slide right back to my old standbys. I subscribe to lots of magazines, that are chockful of interesting recipes and sometimes I do venture outside of my box and try new things. I'm especially fond of the little book "Everyday Food". There I go again....everyday food. I need to try extraordinary day food more often, like Reine de Saba or bone a duck, like Julia did.

Oh well, if you ever need a recipe for chicken stew or perogy dough, I'm your girl.

Letting Go

The ties that bind. Cutting the umbilical cord and the apron strings. We've all heard the cliches before, but no one tells you just how much all of these things hurt.

We've just returned from taking The Kid back to university in Ottawa. (I must start calling her something else...she clearly isn't a "kid" anymore). We spent an entire week, putting finishing touches on her townhouse. We painted her room, hung pictures, weeded, painted anything that didn't move, cleaned and made it a home. We had fun! We worked like dogs, but it was filled with joking around, painting silly pictures on the walls before the real work started, painting each other and most importantly, lots of love.

It seems like yesterday that we brought her home from the hospital. No instructions on how to deal with this addition to our family. Trial and error. And we did make some mistakes. Nothing drastic and to her credit, she turned out amazingly well, in spite of what we may have done. When we took her to university last year, I was a mess. Leaving her in a dorm room, in a strange city, just about did me in. I thought this year would be easier. OK, so I only cried for about half an hour as we drove away. Last year it was a couple of days. That's progress, no?

The first day at Tiny Kingdom was easy. She didn't know what she was in for. The second day? Not so much. She clung to my legs and begged me not to go. I gently pried her from my knees and promised that I'd be back when the "big hand and the small hand" on the clock were at the top. When I came back to get her, there she was, sitting on a small stool, in front of the clock, staring up, waiting for those two hands to meet. My heart broke in pieces. It took a few more days, but she stopped waiting for noon to come and me along with it. The first cut.

Her first day at elementary school was much the same. Junior kindergarten would be from 9 to 3:30 and there would be no big-hand/small-hand noon pick up. After the first couple of days, she said to me "I've had enough". This is where backbone comes in. You don't give in and a little bit more of your heart chips away. You feel as guilty as hell and just want to wrap her in your arms and sit down with a copy of "I'll Love You Forever" and to hell with education. After a week of JK, I was once again relegated to second place. The second cut.

Fast forward 10 years to high school. Believe me when I say "fast". Not even a backward glance. The third cut.

Which takes us to last year and her first year at Carleton. As we packed up two cars to head for residence, I had waves of melancholy, but they were usually overpowered by the excitement of what was to come for her. As we drove up to her res, a hoard of second year+ "facils" descended upon our cars, hooting and hollering, "welcome to Carleton", "woo hoo", and then literally moving her in. They all grabbed her stuff and proceeded to leave us empty handed as they transported her things to her dorm room. Exciting and fun. Just a bit of topical anaesthetic to dull what was to come. We spent 3 days there, buying stuff for her room, setting up their kitchen, making her part of the room "hers". Then came the time to leave. Having a heart transplant can't be as bad as what I was feeling. As we drove away from her, we both held it back, she standing in front of her res door with tears in her eyes, me waving with a phony smile on my face. As we rounded the corner, out of her sight, the tears flowed. And flowed. And flowed. For days. Now I am really bleeding. All of the little cuts have turned into a gaping wound.

Now she's in a house with two other, fantastic roomies and they will have a blast. Three young women with so much to experience. Our Girl (that's better), who is now a Frosh Leader, said goodbye to us on the grounds of the university . In that moment, she was not a second year university student, but that little girl at Tiny Kingdom. Tears in her eyes, tremble in her voice, we hugged, kissed, did the phony smile thing and then my husband and I watched as she disappeared from our view. She didn't turn back, but moved forward, as we want her to do. Our wounds are there, but the balm is knowing that we've helped raise an incredible human being.

Bananagrams

Brilliant little game in a banana.  We were introduced to it by our family in Winnipeg up at their cottage in Matlock.  Rainy days plagued our visit, so walks on the beach were not an option.  So much fun "splitting, peeling and dumping" and yelling "Bananas"!  I've seen it at Mastermind.  For us aging boomers, it's a great way to keep the brain oiled and in working condition.  Any age can play, including early readers.  

Which leads me to our Saturday night.  No Bananagrams (would be too much time pressure for my mom), but we went over to Mom's for Chinese and Scrabble.  "I" joined us and we had a nice evening.  Mom seemed in good spirits and today she's watching "those bums", aka The Blue Jays.  Who knows, maybe they're not bums today.  It's early in the game.

A week left until The Kid leaves for school.  Makes me sad thinking about it, so I'm making her a peach pie in a vain attempt at keeping her here forever.  

17 Again

Two of us met in Grade 3. We met the other in high school. We can be apart for long periods of time and yet, we pick up where we left off. We just slide back into a rhythm. Ba da boom. To feel 17 again with such fabulous ladies is a blessing. My daughter says she doesn't recognize me when the three of us are together. We get silly. We laugh. We ARE 17.

My Grade 3 friend lives on Vancouver Island and we don't get to see each other as much as we'd like. My other friend lives 15 minutes away and yet, we don't get together enough. But when we do, expect lots of laughter and silliness. Today was breakfast at Sunset Grille in Milton, after picking up Vancouver Island girl at the airport at 9 am. Giggling over old times, comparing notes on our different maladies and medications, laughing at notes kept by Vancouver Island Girl about books and movies she wants to read or see, because she's afraid she won't remember them, all the while getting a coffee induced caffeine high.

The only nod to our age...gushing about the grandbaby-to-be for Vancouver Island Girl. And how we will all be "great aunties"....who act 17 when we're together.

Stormy Weather

Wow.  The force of nature.  I have never seen weather this bad.  M was about to BBQ some pork chops and he made a bee-line for the patio door.  It literally became a deluge in a matter of seconds.  We watched helplessly as our trees bent into near submission.   The sky is now an eerie yellow and I'm not convinced that we are out of the woods yet.   CP24 is saying we have another hour of tornado watch.  Lit a bunch of candles when the power went out and in a weird way, it's kind of nice when all the electric "buzz" is quieted.  Power's back,  but one candle is still lit, just in case.  

Marika was waiting to be picked up by The Boyfriend .... family dinner before The Boyfriend leaves for university tomorrow.  He has two weeks of football training before school starts.  For a while, it didn't look like they were going anywhere, the the storm has subsided a bit, so they are on their way to teppanyaki.  Lord, don't let anything get in the way of teppanyaki.........

So, no BBQ tonight, but thank God for good, old George Foreman and his handy dandy grill.  

mmmmmm....just read downtownmama's blog and she mentioned peaches.......tis the season for jam and peach pie.  Watch for my famous peach pie recipe tomorrow.  Perfect for the weekend.  Damn the diet.

Went to see "The Harder They Come" last night with my hubby.  Great show music wise, but why do we need to glorify crime?  The guy shot two police officers and was made a hero.   Huh?  I know they were trying to say that this guy was a "revolutionary" and that he was triumphing over corruption, but to make a hero out of him?  It just adds to the "glory of the gun" mentality that is plaguing so much of our world today.  

Taking Mom out for shopping today.  She has taken her shower and tells me she is "already played out", but she needs to get out and so, I will go do her hair and then trudge her around to her favourite haunts....Walmart, IGA, Cloverdale....wherever she wants to go.  It's becoming aware that these jaunts will be more and more difficult for her to manage as the time passes.  Mom said that she's "spoken" with Dad (I know she's not losing it, her brain is sharper than mine!) and that he said "in a year or so", alluding to when she'd be ready to join him.  Mom said "not just yet", but to her, a year sounds good.  I honestly can't dispute that one.  She's ready.  There's not much joy in her life, save for us and those awful Blue Jays that she's addicted to.  Oh, and Scrabble.  

Forgot to mention, we went out for dinner the other night to North 44.  Ask to be seated at Esther's table.  The food is fabulous, yes, but Esther is wonderful!  I've never seen anyone so vivacious and so obviously enjoying what they do.   Esther's even offered to make introductions for our daughter to some sports commentators, for when Marika needs to start interning for journalism.  Honestly, we love North 44, but the real reason we go back is to see Esther!!  Go.  You will be enchanted.

Wow.....I need to get a life. I obviously created this post 4 years ago and haven't done anything with it. It's time I got the lead out (you will find many age-related "isms" here) and got started. I've always wanted to write and have been told I have a knack, so, here goes.

Scukie.....I'm part Scottish, part Ukrainian, all Canadian. I'm now 56 and feelin' my age! I had thought of a different moniker....Kubasa on Rye with a side of Haggis.....since I am part of that wonderful sandwich generation. Teenage child and an 84 year old mother. The teenage child no longer needs my help (well, sometimes) and my 84 year old mother, needs me more and more.

It's hard being in this "place". Sometimes I need to just kvetch

(no Jewish blood that I know of in the family line, but it's a good word) so I thought this was as good a place as any. A blog won't say "uh huh, uh huh" on the other end of the line and screen it's calls .... "oh no, it's HER again, same old, same old".

Don't get me wrong, I have fabulous friends who will listen and support - mainly because they're all in the same boat. I need more of an outlet and, well, this is it.