Tuesday, 14 April 2020

In the meantime...

Still labouring under "essential worker" which brings me no end of grief. Compared to actual essential workers--doctors, nurses, those on food production lines--sittting in Cubicle Land moving paperwork from one end of the desk to the other, when I should be at home 'doing my bit', leaves me feeling shameful.  Shame on two fronts: one, we are making widgets, not performing lung transplants; two, I want to be at home participating in the quarantine front. I want clean closets and homemade bread, too.

The garden, the TBR pile, the closets, the laundry pile all cry out for my attention. I despair at having to set the alarm and sneak (yes, sneak!) out of the driveway each morning while neighbours slumber. And we're now all fighting for the office fridge, kettle, and microwave.  The Widget-Maker will have none of the recommended working-from-home or staggered hours or protocols that seem to have been adopted by every other business out there. 

Would it be too much to ask people to wash their hands? We all remember what happened when I boldy suggested we all empty our coffee pod from the machine.  Do I dare suggest we consider hygiene in the time of plague?

Managed to secure some daffs before the wind and snow(gasp!) descend upon us.  'Accumulation' is a very dirty word come mid-April. Flowers and Easter chocolate may see us through.

I hear the ding of the toaster oven and it's my turn at the grill. Green pasta and sardines, again. It was all that was left post-panic buying. 

More on this, anon.

Wednesday, 26 February 2020

Mark II

coming soon...brain meets keys will be found at:

Wednesday, 5 February 2020

Getting On With It(Christmas is Over)

And with the last Ecclefechen consumed (more on these delightful creatures later), can I finally bid adieu to Christmas? No.  Because the tree is still up and the gift of truffles is still in its decorative candy dish and the glitter jam is still in the fridge and I am still wearing Christmas slipper-socks. Creature comforts in a dry January. (Can't even use the cold weather as an excuse as it was 7C on Monday.)

Panic sets in because I haven't:

  • finished my travelogue from 2013
  • painted the bedroom doors
  • read my TBR pile from 2005
  • organized the kitchen cupboards from 2017--so much for Apartment Therapy
  • booked that trip to the East coast
  • baked that chocolate-balsamic truffle loaf
  • made that 28-ingredient meat loaf for Dad
  • organized my photo collection
  • made it to a Chekhov Collective show
  • took the time to brew a proper espresso
  • used my fabulous new Staub crock pot
  • opened that bottle of Shiraz
  • made those cognac & nib bitters
  • had the discipline to blog weekly--not even the ubiquitous 'wordless Wednesday'
  • booked my pedicure
  • rid the closets of old clothes
  • selfishly transformed the spare room into a space for reading, yoga, and other me stuff
  • re-designed the back garden
  • washed the car
  • ...
And is taking down the Christmas tree the only thing standing between me and an artfully written, grammatically correct post? The last barrier to a Cordon Bleu-worthy dish? No. 
But consider the feeling of a 'clean' space--i.e. a clutter-free space: emboldening, inspiring, empowering.

I admire the discipline of those who take down a tree on December 27th and who choose not to borrow from the Slavic or Chinese traditions; those who call it quits January 1.
The clock is ticking on shlepping about in Christmas socks, the tree-lights ablaze (remember we have gone down this road before--see Stuart McLean and his Winter tree lights), and binge-watching Outlander and Homeland--and Le Weekend on repeat. The espresso maker and Staub are two tiny steps on the road to adulthood (this as a BD draws near); getting organized and staying organized are two others.

Until next time. Where we justify the whopping $10 it takes to maintain this collection of letters.

Sunday, 28 April 2019

Toronto--in bloom

Distillery District

outside Tapas

because what would it be without a reference to Trump

Planter 101

Front Street

Market Street