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Breaking bread
I finally broke. After weeks of self-isolation and alternately mocking and cursing the people hoarding baking supplies (I really did run out of baking powder), I finally joined the ranks of those baking bread from scratch. A few of weeks ago, a dear friend sent me a care parcel (courtesy of porch drop-off by her husband) of lentil soup, Turkish delight and – wait for it – sour dough starter. The starter sat in the back of my fridge in hibernation until last weekend, when I realized that I’d better bring it out, warm it up and start feeding it, so hibernation didn’t… Read more…
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I know where the other sock went: tales of a handywoman by necessity
You know those pesky socks – the singles ones (never a pair) that disappear when you’re doing the laundry? I now proof that the washing machine really does eat them! One fateful laundry day recently, my washing machine made a horrible noise and stopped, mid-cycle. Now, unfortunately, I’m no stranger to fixing this oh-so-important fixture in my weekly routine. A couple of years ago, I had to replace the boot seal of my front loader when my daughter’s very pointy Mockingjay pin (from the hit book and movie The Hunger Games) ripped a nice long rent in it. YouTube was my saviour… Read more…
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With apologies to Clement C Moore
Twas the day before Christmas and though joy’s in the air,All creatures are rushing, no second to spare.With carols to sing and stockings to stuff,The kitchen’s a whirlwind of baking and love. The concerts are finished, our voices are strained,Yet songs still ring out, as the season ordains.My son’s home from uni, he’s raiding the fridge.Exclaims nothing’s there, he’s eaten all but a smidge! Family visits are next, a once yearly meet,As others pour from offices, filling the street.Once more back home, with all good deeds done,We start to think, “Perhaps the holiday battle is won?” The family arrives, grandparents… Read more…
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How many innings in a hockey game?
Okay, I’ll admit it. I have failed my children. None of the three know much about – or have any interest in – team sports. It seems almost sacrilegious to say this, but I will have no trouble deciding what to watch on Monday night. National election results will be on my TV; the baseball game will hardly cross our minds. The kids come by their sportslessess not only by virtue of lack of exposure, but by genetics. Neither their father nor I had the gene either. I’d much rather compete against myself than be part of a sports team.… Read more…
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The day I forgot my daughter
I was very excited when my daughter started preschool. With all three kids now spending at least a few hours a week learning outside the home, it now meant I had a little more guilt-free time to spend on my business and more importantly volunteer in classrooms. That fateful day started out like any ordinary day. Grade two son up, fed and teeth brushed. Same for SK son, after the usual battle about whether this was a school day or not – he hadn’t taken well to full-day alternate-day kindergarten. A third checkmark for my three year old daughter and… Read more…
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The glamour of business travel
I don’t know who it is that spreads the wicked rumour that business travel is exotic, but if it’s supposed to be, I’m clearly doing something wrong. Admittedly, my travel is is usually little and too far from glamorous places. A night here or there in small-town Ontario, or if I’m lucky, to another province, all I get. So what could possibly go awry?Plenty, it seems. I don’t think I’ve had a single excursion out of the office without a story to come home with. One evening at a conference, I was woken by someone slipping a piece of paper… Read more…
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Cooking up new adventures
There are cookies in my kitchen. Peanut butter cookies. And last week there were cupcakes. Blueberry cupcakes. The week before that, the smell of fresh brownies nearly drove me to distraction. My daughter has recently discovered baking and she’s treating us to an array of mouthwatering goodies on a continual basis. Now, far be it from me to complain about this cornucopia of sugary confections, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain my willpower and refrain from gobbling it all down. For years, my young Ms. Baker has talked about becoming a biologist when she grows up. It’s morphed over… Read more…
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Of moors, magic and martians
When I was a young girl – no more than eight or nine – my grandparents came to visit in the spring. This was a big deal. My parents had immigrated from England in the mid-60s, part of the exodus of recent science grads looking for a better life in Canada. We didn’t see my grandparents often, so each visit was a treat. As a grownup, I realize it must have been difficult for my mother, seeing her parents only every three years or so, but those infrequent visits have left indelible memories with me. My grandfather was special. Looking back at him with… Read more…
