Soup for Breakfast

Many, many years ago I, with my parents and a friend, drove to Florida for the Orange Bowl game. I don’t remember the game but do remember Fort Lauderdale, lots of fun for a couple of young ladies. I also remember my friend ordering a cheeseburger for breakfast at a restaurant in Louisiana where I couldn’t understand a single word the waitress said. The sounds coming from her mouth made no sense to my mid-western ears. Her southern accent was so strong she may as well have been speaking a foreign language (funny, the things a person remembers). Anyhow, the waitress understood us and didn’t bat an eye over the order of a cheeseburger at 7:00am. I, however, thought it was pretty strange. Why would my friend order a cheeseburger for breakfast? She said she simply didn’t like breakfast foods.....well, okay, to each her own I guess. 

Now, here I am, nearly 60 years later, having a stuffed green pepper for breakfast. Have I gone crazy? I must admit that fried eggs have lost their allure in the last year or so, but a stuffed green pepper? For breakfast?!

My husband and I have started having two, rather than three, meals a day. If we’re hungry in the middle of the day we eat a banana, some nuts, some easy snack. For the most part we don’t miss having lunch and I love the freedom of not having to prepare that mid-day meal. Has this new habit taken a few pounds off? Nope. Maybe it’s because some of those healthy nuts are chocolate coated.... 

What has changed is my use of leftovers from supper. I try but can’t seem to cook the perfect amount for two. Inevitably small amounts of leftovers end up in the fridge. Being thrifty, almost to a fault, and determined not to waste food, the odd bit of this or that makes its way to the breakfast table or, in a changed form, to another night’s supper. Splitting one stuffed green pepper between the two of us, adding an egg and a slice of homemade bread - delicious for breakfast. Leftover potatoes are always good too, or a slice of pizza, or the rest of that piece of meat I just couldn’t find room for last night.

What’s in the fridge and near its useable end often dictates what we’ll have for our next meal. We have a propane fridge (uses no electricity), one of the little adjustments we made when choosing an off-grid lifestyle back in 1985, and by today’s standards it’s small. This to me is an advantage. I can actually see what’s in my fridge with very little shifting about, and since I have limited space I can’t keep piling more food in until I forget what’s in there, only to throw furry smelly stuff out when I discover it too late in a fridge mining expedition. We have compensated, to a degree, for the smallness of our fridge by having a dumb-waiter to the cellar. It keeps things like beer, pop, ketchup, eggs, etc. sufficiently cool and frees up fridge space for stuff that requires a colder environment. But I’m wandering off my topic, maybe not as far off as my husband does when telling one of his stories, but.... anyhow.... back to the fridge’s contents forming my meal plans. If I spot something that needs to be eaten, if at all possible it works it’s way into the next meal. Salad tonight? You bet, before that lettuce goes bad. Pudding for dessert? Of course, the milk in near the end of it’s useable life. Those two pieces of leftover chicken? Add onions, veggies, canned mushroom soup, a few pieces of potato and cook it up in a fry pan - slumgullion, one of my mother’s favourite meals. Tonight it’s broccoli, it’s flowers are starting to bloom. Tomorrow? The rest of that moose curry might be good over a bed of rice. 

 Traditional meals begone! Maybe tomorrow we’ll have soup for breakfast.

The Art of Mindful Neglect

People are stressed out, they say. So much to do, so little time, no time for themselves, no time for leisure, running here, running there, never catching up. We do what we must do and what we are taught to do, by our mothers, by our associates, by our society, our religion, our family traditions - there’s lots of influencing factors. But if we are truly so busy we barely have time to turn around, maybe we need to learn the art of mindful neglect.

Some people wash dishes before they put them in the dishwasher. Some choose to ferry their children to a myriad of extra curricular activities (and put in extra hours of work to pay for them). Some keep their floors so clean you could sit down on them and use them for a plate! Some work incessantly to keep up appearances.  I know women who think they need to iron sheets - really, no joke! I stopped ironing 48 years ago when my cat decided my basket of ironing was a good place to have her kittens.  Everything in that basket was ruined but that cat sure simplified my life!

This Christmas we had no Christmas tree, other than a 2 foot pre-decorated one. Our grandgirls did wonder, for a moment, why we didn’t put up our usual big tree, but the fact that it was missing was soon forgotten in a whirl of festivities and good food. Just this wee decision contributed, in a small way, to a more relaxed Christmas holiday for me, from the Solstice to the New Year. 

I am retired, sort of - anyhow I no longer work off farm and my husband does most of the outside chores, so I am in a good position to pick and choose what I do. But retired, unless you are lucky enough to do so prior to 65, could be redefined as tired again. Somehow it takes longer to accomplish the basics of domestic engineering than it once did. Younger people frequently have more to accomplish in a day than a retiree. Fortunately they have more energy, but there are limits! Pushing these limits too far, adding even one more responsibility when you are already overwhelmed, can tip you over the edge, effecting not only you but your family as well.

There’s many things we cannot avoid, many demands on our time, but there’s some things we could simply choose to ignore and our world won’t fall apart, it will just readjust itself to a new normal and continue on. This is the art of  mindful neglect. Look at what you’re doing. What does it accomplish, is it necessary or frivolous, would life be much better if you do it, or worse if you don’t? Are you doing it for yourself, for others, for another’s perception of you? Much of the time we complicate our own lives, little added activities/chores compound into one big time grab. Mindful neglect does not add up to careless disregard. It’s simply a way of decluttering what, on careful inspection, might be an overloaded to-do list.

Doc

 Rest In Peace, Doc

Grow Old with Dogs

When I am old....

I will wear soft grey sweatshirts,

and a bandanna over my silver hair,

and I will spend my social security checks on wine and my dogs.

I will sit in my house on my well-worn chair and listen to my dogs breathing.

I will sneak out in the middle of a warm summer night

and take my dogs for a run,

if my old bones will allow.

When people come to call......

I will smile and nod as I show them my dogs......

and talk of them and about them;

the ones so beloved of the past

and the ones so beloved today.

I will still work hard cleaning after them, mopping and feeding them 

and whispering their names in a soft loving way.

I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat, like a jewel

and I will be an embarrassment to all...especially my family....

who have not yet found the peace in being free to have dogs as your very best friends.

These friends who will always wait at any hour,

for your footfall....

and eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound sleep,

to greet you as if you are a God.

With warm eyes full of adoring love

and hope that you will always stay,

I'll hug their big strong necks.....

I'll kiss their dear sweet heads......

and whisper in their very special company.

I look in the Mirror...... ..And see I am getting old.

This is the kind of person I am and have always been.

Loving dogs is easy, they are part of me.

Please accept me for who I am.

My dogs appreciate my presence in their lives...

they love my presence in their lives.

When I am old, this will be important to me.

You will understand when you grow old......

if you have dogs to love too.

Thank you, Viv Billingham, for sharing this beautiful poem.

Don Cherry - What’s the Fuss?

Don Cherry - What’s the Fuss?

You people that come here … whatever it is, you love our way of life, you love our milk and honey. At least you could pay a couple of bucks for a poppy.” He then began pointing his finger at the camera, “These guys paid for your way of life, the life you enjoy in Canada. These guys paid the biggest price.” 

The moment I heard this on the TV news my first thought was “This man should be fired!” I was not alone. So many people complained to the Canadian Broadcasting Standards Council about Cherry, that it exceeded 'the CBSC’s technical processing capacities'. 

Don Cherry is thought of by many as a Canadian icon, but not all agree. Listening further to the news broadcast I was treated to many other misogynistic, racist, divisive, and heralded as perfectly acceptable statements of Cherry’s opinion aired on Hockey Night in Canada over the years. His views are supposedly harmless, just in fun, painting life as he sees it. But Canada is growing up and is, at least in the public eye, leaving people like Don Cherry behind.

Or are we? Does Don Cherry simply say out loud what many say and feel privately? There’s a swell of support out there, on Facebook, Twitter. Cherry, people are saying, is just an actor with an amusing commentary, almost a clown in his signature attire, shouldn’t be taken seriously. “What in the world is all the fuss about?” they say. “He’s harmless!” 

Is he?

In private conversations I have heard misogynistic, racist, and derogatory ethnic comments expressed by people I respect. If called to their attention they laugh, say “Lighten up, I was just joking!” But such conversation has the effect of reinforcing and perpetuating a culture of “us and them”. We might have a better chance of establishing amenable relations with people from different backgrounds if we are not armed with stereotypes in advance.

Immigrants come to this country for many reasons, to escape war, to better their economic position, to reunite with family already here. It takes time to adapt to a different way of looking at the world. We have very little understanding of how confusing and difficult it may be for an immigrant to question or alter his or her past learning, traditions, cultural and religious indoctrination, especially a first generation immigrant. Immigrants have good reasons to come to Canada, but it’s not necessarily an easy transition and they all leave a piece of themselves behind.  

The Canadian identity, which would be hard to define, is already quite diversified and it is changing. Twenty years ago not one word would have been said about Don Cherry’s “You people...” statement. Had it been said in private it wouldn’t have caused even a tiny ripple, especially coming from an old man. But Canada is made of slowly melding races, religions, and ethnicities, creating a rich tapestry. We differ in many respects, but we are all Canadians.

A friend commented on Facebook, “All old men say inappropriate things. It’s their right. It’s our right to ignore them.” True, we can roll our eyes and forgive grandpa, but maybe old men whose attitudes belong in the archives should no longer be given a public forum.

A Winter Wine Makers Dilemma

It has been decided in our household that my husband, since he is the bee keeper, should be the mead maker. He made one batch in the summer but it was too good, and it has been difficult to save even two bottles to see how the wine will improve with age. Finally, last week he started another batch. When I checked the specific gravity 5 days later it had not changed at all! It wasn’t working. Had we killed the yeast somehow? We decided, after popping a thermometer into the primary fermenter, that it was just too cold. So we brought it out to the kitchen and set it by the stove. After a couple of days it began to work and the SG is slowly going down. Hopefully it’ll ready for the carboy in a few days.

In the meantime it appears like my raspberry wine is doing okay in our usual wine room (ie our small first floor once upon a time bedroom that has become our catch all space for anything we can’t find a place for). It’s still working - slowly. We are in a quandary as to wether the mead will continue to work if we put it in a carboy in that same room. On the other hand putting a glass carboy next to the kitchen heater could be a bit concerning as it’s a busy high traffic area - not just people, 4 dogs too! 

I have enough raspberries to make 2 more batches of raspberry wine, enough honey to make one more batch of mead. But, should I wait till spring???? If I don’t wait, will I have to fill my kitchen with wine jugs?

We do not have central heating. We have a propane space heater in our living/dining room and a wood stove in the kitchen, so the spare room is always a few degrees cooler. We could, for about $150, get an electric carboy heater and thermostat, but it obviously uses power and we try to avoid buying stuff that increases our electrical use. And we would need more than one! In winter the sun shines less making solar power less efficient and necessitating more diesel generator battery charging. So I’d rather solve this chilly air problem some other way. So far I’ve given my wine a blanket. Does this keep heat in or insulate it from the heat? Maybe I should heat up bricks in the fire (or a bean bag in the microwave) and place them inside the blanket?

Hopefully we can solve this winter wine makers dilemma... 

Apple Cider

If you have an apple tree you will be familiar with the problem of having too many apples. In my cellar I have plenty of jars of whole crab apples, crab apple jelly, applesauce, apple butter, apples with raspberries..... No need to make more.  

But we wanted to do something with this year’s apples. So, with the help of our neighbor who has an apple press, we had the pleasure of making pure apple cider (i.e. apple juice, not the alcoholic cider). We picked 4-5 gallon pails of apples, leaving the ones out of reach for the birds.

What an incredible, machine the apple press is! I’ve made juice by cooking apples down and squeezing through a jelly bag, but this was so easy, and made more enjoyable because it was done with the help of our friend and celebrated by a few drinks of apple juice and rum, a mighty tasty newly discovered beverage. 

Since the apples were small there was no need to cut them up. They did not need to be cored or stemmed. Just popped them into the grinder and then into the press. 

I could hardly believe how much juice we got! Our yield was one full pail of juice to the 4 pails of apples! And the juice (even without the rum) is delicious. I canned the juice (water bath - 20 minutes) as there was too much to consume fresh. 

Wow, thanks neighbor!

Earth’s Lament

Amidst all the climate hullabaloo flying around during this election time, 

Amidst all the promises waiting to be broken, 

Amidst all the apocalyptic prophisizing contrasted by all the denying,

Amidst all the bright answers,

Amidst all the individual and corporate greed, 

Amidst all the hope and all the despair and everything in between - 

Here’s an old poem of mine. If I looked back in my blog I’d likely find it there. I wrote it while looking out at a Parking Lot Sea, while waiting for my husband to reappear from shopping for something or other. It has been somewhat modified from the original...

Earth’s Lament

I am the earth and I need to breathe,

Feel the wind through my grasses and the leaves of my trees,

Wake fresh in the morning with dew on my chest,

Wrinkle, roll and stretch from the east to the west, 

Bathe in the rain and bask in the sun,

Shine in the moonlight when my workday is done.

I am the earth and I must see the sky,

Deprive me of this, I’ll get sick, I could die!

You paint me in black with asphalt on roads,

Reshape my body for diamonds and gold,

Draw fluid up from the depths of my bowels,

Dump sewage in water making it foul,

You harvest my lungs, pollute all my veins,

Smoke fills my air, acidifies my rain.

You’ve put me in danger, I cannot forgive,

For I am the earth and I want to live!

I am the earth, please let me breathe,

Feel the wind through my grasses and the leaves of my trees,

Wake fresh in the morning with dew on my chest,

Wrinkle, roll and stretch from the east to the west, 

Bathe in the rain and bask in the sun,

Shine in the moonlight when my workday is done.

I am the earth, you live in my home,

Treat me with kindness, I won’t die alone.