Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Eating Local

I recently read this article "10 Reasons to Eat Locally" and while most of the reasons make sense:
- tastes better
- reduces pollution from shipping
- reduces or eliminates preserving chemicals
- eliminates the possibility of bio-terrorism (that one is a bit of a stretch but given what happened with spinach and carrot juice last winter - who am I to judge!)
.....it wasn't until this morning that it all came together for me.

Today for breakfast I fancied a tomato sandwich. We don't have any tomatoes today - well - that's strictly not true - we have grape tomatoes (YUM) but I wasn't about to eat a sandwich with 15 grape tomatoes in it! WAIT - we are growing tomatoes in the yard! I looked outside and most were green. But on closer inspection, we found one orangey-red perfect tomato. So - we picked it. Took it from the backyard to the kitchen - like 15 feet - and cut it up onto toast.

Yum yum yum. That is the difference with local produce. That RIGHT there - a tomato that tastes like a tomato, isn't woody or gross.

What else do we have in the garden?

I'm making pasta salad for dinner. We added peas and carrots - FROM THE BACKYARD. I cut up one of our cucumbers with thin onion slices and I'm making quick pickles for dinner too! I feel like a freaking genius. MY family grew the food we are eating. Ben picked the carrots he planted. And while none of Sammy's jalapeno peppers are ready yet, I suspect that their arrival will coincide with the reddening of more tomatoes! We also have spinach coming out of our ying yang and herbs aplenty - anyone need any chives or mint?

This is the purpose to me of local produce. Its cool to have our own food - there is a sense of definite accomplishment for having things grow. Sure, we still need to buy bananas but hey, its kind of fun to not have to buy tomatoes.

Maybe next year we'll do zuchinni...garlic.....or eggplant....watermellon.....maybe even pumpkins!

Friday, August 24, 2007

Table for One

There was a Pity Party at my place tonight and everyone was invited! Woo hoo - although I didn't see any of you there.
I got dumped/dissed/practically stood up. And if any of you ever wonder why I don't have girl friends, this is why (and before you start bitching - you don't count - you know who you are)!

I was supposed to meet the girls from work - well, technically where I used to work - at 7pm tonight. Massive amounts of emails had been exchanged as had messages on MSN and Facebook. Much to-do had been made. Then one cancelled on Wednesday. There's always one.

So today in the afternoon, I took as shower and blew my hair dry, which frankly, nowadays, is a rare occurance. Not the shower, but the blow dry - what am I blowing my hair dry for when I have no where to go? I put on makeup, brushed my teeth and used the rarely used mouthwash (again, not that I'm a pig, I just hate mouthwash).

I put on pants - full lenght pants, not capris (again - tres rare nowadays) and put on shoes that were neither flip flops nor crocs. I wore jewellery. Okay, well, I always wear jewellery - but I wore jewellery that matched my outfit. I looked quite presentable as a matter of fact.

So 6pm rolls around and I still don't know where, specifically we are meeting. I text. Nothing. 6:15 rolls around and I call - voicemail. If I am to be two towns over by 7pm I need to leave at 6:30. At 6:25pm I get a call - "yes well, can we reschedule - see we both have other stuff to do and well another time would be better...you understand - okay great."

No. Not okay. Not great. I don't go out much. Ever. And I was really looking forward to grown up drinks in a bar with people I like who aren't my family. And no, I'm not okay. I'm sad. Really desperately so.

So, I decided since I was all dressed up I should go out. My husband refused to go with me. You see, he had already started making taco meat and he wanted to watch Family Guy re-runs. I was refused for cartoon reruns and ground turkey.

I will go to the movies then - cause I like the movies and I will go alone. I used to go alone all the time before I was married. Why not? I'll tell you why not. Because I live in suburbia and no one does anything alone. The megaplex was packed with couples and groups.

I chose a particularly depressing movie on purpose so that I could cry. And I did. I cried like the lonely loser I am into my giant bucket of salty popcorn and jumbo diet coke. Oh yes I did.

I don't want to be a loner. I don't want to not fit in with the other Moms. I don't want to have, as Rick says, 4 best friends, none of which live in the same area code as me. I don't want to have relationships by email and fax and phone and text message that leave me feeling cared for and appreciated but more than just a little empty and alone. I want people who love me and enjoy my company and want to be with me. I don't want to be less important than reruns.

So yes. Pity Party. One night only.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The lodger

I used to have this roommate named Margaret....that's how I used to start my stories, and you all know how I love a good story, about Margaret. But, as I began this, I realized that Margaret was more than a collection of humourous anecdotes. Oh yes, she was insane. And a bit of a bitchy cow, but that chick had some major league problems too.

Margaret and I met when she began working at Addition Elle, a clothing store for fat chicks, back in the 1980s. To tell you the truth, there was no skill involved in working in fat lady fashion in the 80s - we were all just so grateful to not be wearing men's husky lee jeans and cords with a big oversize tshirt that we would have paid any price at all for the bit of panache that these stores offered. Which, in a way is good because while I had style - oh yes I did - Margaret had zero and while she could sell anything, I could NOT. (If that ever comes up, make a mental note, I cannot sell anything - if I attempt to sound sincere it sounds fake and if I am sincere it sounds more fake. Its best to have me run the place or go fetch stuff.)

Margaret and I became friends because we were constantly thrown together on the night shift. At the time, I was working and going to school and she was doing the same. We both worked as many nights and weekends as we could muster. She was an Admin Assistant at an Insurance company. She had gone to college - to study admin stuff and fancied herself an accomplished typist and short hand taker person - who was I to argue?

At that time, she was living in a rented house and I was living with evil roommate number 2. Soon the situation with E.R.#2 became unbearable and I was forced out essentially on to the street. Margaret, god bless her heart, took me in. Not only me, but also my cat, Nab.

It was clear from the start that although I was living with Margaret we were not roommates in her eyes - she considered me a lodger. Which to me was fine because it meant I didn't have to share in all the unpleasantness that was hydro and heating bills and the crap that was mowing the lawn and shovelling sidewalks....or so she lead me to believe.

Nab and I settled nicely into our super-lavender tiny little bedroom in the 2 bedroom bungalow at Glencairn and the Allen. Nab got along nicely with Margaret's dog, Mandy but did not get along well at all with her cat, Fluffy.

Fluffy was anything but fluffy. She was scrawny and bony and didn't have an ounce of kindness or compassion in her at all. She was also one of the first disagreements that Margaret and I had. You see, every morning, Margaret would open a can of food for Fluffy and set in on the dining room table and Fluffy would eat straight out of the can. When did she pick up the can and put it in the recycling/garbage you ask? NEVER. When I finally broke down and cleaned up (which royally pissed her off) there must have been nearly 100 empty cat food cans - oooh little but of throw up.....it was so icky I can't even tell you but, I was a lodger....remember? Not my deal. Nab ate in my room.

Margaret didn't like to clean the litter box either. She preferred to let Fluffy, and as time wore on, Mandy, just pee where they wanted and crap when they had to. The WHOLE basement was full of well, full of crap. It was a horror - an absolute horror.

But, like I said Margaret had problems. She was the youngest in a big family by about 15 years. (Again, if you are making mental notes, I'm going to say don't try for one last baby when your next youngest is 15....) Her father died when she was a kid so she and her mother were super close. Until her mother had a stroke when Margaret was 25. Of course, she still lived at home. She'd never been on a date, had a boyfriend or been kissed - she lived a sheltered life.

As the siblings stood around Mom's hospital bed, they had to decide - pull the plug or let her go on indefinitely on the machines. Margaret said - let her fight - but, she was alone. They pulled the plug - the doctors said it would only be hours - but she lived for days - lingered and died. Margaret stayed the whole time - and watched her poor mother die. It was horrible for her.

But, it got worse. Everything that Mom owned was left to all the siblings equally - so one week after the funeral, the siblings put the house up for sale and kicked Margaret's ass to the curb. That's how she ended up in the rental. She had a nice nest egg, some lovely old furniture, an inferiority complex the size of a house and a woe is me the world hates me attitude she carried everywhere she went. To be fair, she came about her sadness honestly, as do the rest of us.

Life with Margaret was always interesting. You could never know when she was going to go off on one of her weird tyrannical screaming fits. Well, and she had the funniest haircut I've ever seen. She had a bad fat lady haircut.

Now, anyone out there who says they don't know what I mean when I say fat lady haircut is full of shit. You all do. Its kind of a modified Dorothy Hamill cut from the 70s....only in a way unattractive way. Longish short hair at the front and shaved sides and shaved at the back. If you have any neck fat you are fucked - it looks ridiculous. She had that hair all frosted and tipped within and inch of its life.

She was also cursed with the fat lady back fat phenomenon. Its horrid when it happens - and it happens to the best of us. But the combination of fat lady hair with a neck fat roll and fat lady back fat phenomenon is unfortunate - add into that extremely low self esteem, a bad attitude and the misfortune of wearing nothing but pink and floral patterns and you are in for one hell of a bad time.

Margaret and I used to take road trips in her HUGE car that she inherited from her Mom - in my head its a K-car...We would always call them "fat chick road trips" and each began with a trip to 7-eleven for snacks. Sweet teeth indulged, we would head out to Southwestern Ontario where she would mostly hang with my Mom. Although attempts were made to socialize her into her own age group, with peers and introduce her to people (read: men) she was hesitant to do this and again, add in her bristly nature and out attempts were few!

Time went on and Margaret eventually got me a job at the insurance company where she worked (which if you are keeping track is where I met my husband so its not all bad!). Each day we would leave the house in its semblance of chaotic disorder. When we returned home at night, the tv would ALWAYS be on, with a cat (hers or mine) perched on top of the cable box having turned it on with a wayward paw and the dog sitting there watching it. The dog was insane and sat with its dog-ass on the couch and its paws on the floor. I think Mandy thought she was people.

It became harder and harder to live with Margaret. She didn't like me going out. She didn't like me staying in. She hated it when I cleaned up. She hated it when the house was a mess. She was getting more and more unpredictable and weird. My thought was often that she just needed to get laid. Maybe that would have solved a multitude of problems.

In fact, she took a trip to England once over Christmas vacation to stay with her aunt. She met a nice English guy in his late 40s, single, who lived with his mom. And she fancied him rotten. So much so, she arranged to go back to England in the spring - just to see him again - but this time he ignored her. Thus making it the least successful and second most expensive second date in history (I'll tell you about the most expensive second date some other time!).

Near the end of our time together, her dog barfed in the front hallway near the door and she simply threw down a newspaper and walked around it for weeks and weeks and weeks. The smell was obscene. I had to leave - I had to.

I decided to bid a hasty exit. She was not impressed. She yelled and screamed. I was cheating her and treating her mean - AFTER ALL SHE HAD DONE FOR ME! But I moved anyway - in with roommate number 4 across town. She all but threw things at me as we loaded up my stuff. I don't think I'd ever seen my cat so very happy!

Years later Wayne and I were walking in the Eaton Centre and we heard someone calling my name from miles away.....faintly - "Sandra - Sandra St. Clair....". Who was it but insane Margaret! She chased me through the mall until Wayne and I got out on to Yonge street and lost her in a crowd our hearts beating with a combination of relief and hillarity.

I was never quite sure she was all that stable. And while I don't really blame her for being unstable - I have a healthy fear/respect for the instability.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

The cottage




I could write a blog about the cottage and how weird it was to be unplugged totally for a whole week of no internet. And I could write about how the children started making out verbal wills the night when the power went out for 4 hours as they felt that they were going to die. And I suppose I could write about the plight of the mother on vacation that still has to cook and clean and do everyone's bloody dishes. I could write about how nice it was to just have time to read and about the wonderful fantabulous books that I read. I could write about how vacations make strange bedfellows - about choosing good companions - about how everone made me nuts and how I value my private time. But I won't.




The cottage was fun. I won't do it again soon - but neither will I go to Frankenmuth Michigan again soon - that was last year's vacation (sure it had 7 pools and a mini putt inside the hotel but, people, it was LITTLE BAVARIA 24/7!)




I think that the best solution for family vacations would be to take them separately. Each person go it alone for a few days....see how that works out. Then, when you come back, everyone is happy to see each other!




My vacation isn't over it seems. My husband is still off work this week. So, tomorrow, I am going to get my nails done - and not worry how long it takes. I may get my hair cut this week too. Oh yes....but you know, I'm still cooking and cleaning and doing the damned dishes.



The lovely people of Huron County have turbines that generate electricity interspersed amongst their corn and soybean crops. The change the landscape sure - but its so cool to think about the electricity they generate. Its good to know that my composting and recycling isn't the only effort we are making to save the world. Go Huron County!





Friday, August 10, 2007

Beerfest

For the last 25 years I have spent my life surrounded by crowds of gays, gaggles of faggots and legions of lesbians so that now I find it quite odd to spend the day in with a whole bunch of heterosexuals. There is something sociologially intriguing about the heterosexual community when gathered in multitudes of hundreds.
Today my husband, my friend and I went to Beerfest. It is a gathering of people - largely 20 somethings and 30 somethings - at Old Fort York in the shadow of the neon bedecked CN Tower. You can't buy better people watching than exists at this event - its like gay pride - only without the gaiety!
Year one when we attended our pleasure came not only from the beer but from watching the 19 year old tipsy girls in little skirts teeter on their very high heels that they wore - not realizing that this place "Fort York" had grass instead of a dance floor. It was a very fun day.
Year two, there were some especially fun bits. Drunk guy who couldn't find his friends - we spent HOURS passing drunk guy as he got drunker and drunker and drunker - until we finally found him in the drunk holding pen at the end of the evening. It was a happy ending though as this is also where his friends found him!
The heterosexual drunk guys are great to watch. I like the way that large groups of them will wear matching ugly tshirts or unfashonable hats - the gays would NEVER do that.
Perhaps the best part is near the end of the evening as they start becoming unable to walk and hugging each other to hold each other upright. And as Doug says, they look at each other like they are either going to kiss or fight and frankly it could likely go either way and no one would remember.
This year we went to the BBQ expo with Ted Reader - as we usually do. He was making MEATZZA and 3 inch thick porterhouse steaks. I watched fascinated - the meatzza had a base or hamburger instead of crust - cause what man wants to fart around with carbs - and was covered with cheeses, chicken, steak, saucage and bacon. It was a heart attack on a plate. Of course when it was cooked - he invited me to be one of the people on stage to try it - and I just couldn't. I have been trying really hard to walk the vegetarian line. Something told me to just say no thank you and following my instincts was right.
Reader launched into a huge diatribe about how vegetarians are people who can't hunt fish or kill anything. They should belong to PETA - People who eat tasty animals....oh - the men love that kinda talk when they are drunk and full of meat!
Another thing that I noted about beerfest versus pride was the men. Basically all men look alike - right? Gay straight drunk or not. At any gay event you will get a contingent of what are affectionately known as "bears". The bear for those of you not in the know is a big weighty usually bearded, plaid clad muscular or just plain fat guy. Not that there is anything wrong with that. At a gay event I'm going to go out on a limb and say 1 bear for every 1o atendees. At Beerfest - 1 bear for every 4 people. Fun.
As the evening wears on (and it closes at 10pm) the people get friendlier and drunker - as with any event. Some drunk chick came up and hugged me and kissed me and high fived me. And as Doug said again, the instint is to say - "Happy Pride!" But what do you say at Beerfest? Happy Beerday? Woohoo you're drunk?
Tomorrow I'm going to the taste of the Danforth - where I will be again surrounded by people - but with kids. Sunday, its Wonderland. Somehow its not quite the same. But Pride and Beerfest- those were some good times.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Taking one for the Team

Years ago, I was a working woman in a man's business filled with women. To be more specific, I was working in group insurance, with a partner company that provided insurance to groups of people - mainly in Unions. Amalgamated Transit, CAW, Electrical workers, Construction Workers and my personal faves The Brotherhood of Maintenance of Way (railroad guys). A couple of times a year, the head of the conglomerate, Chuck, and all the Union Leaders would meet. Normally the insurance company sent the account manager to represent the company.

Well, the account manager had moved on and there was no one in the company who knew more about the account than me - but eek eek eek - as politically incorrect as it was the company couldn't send me -cause I'm a girl. The Union boys apparently are all just that boys and there was no place for a lady like me amongst them. Someone had the brilliant idea of sending a boy - Giorgio - and sending me as his beard - insurance beard. Giorgio would do all the talking and I would would be his Cyrano. Hell, it meant a free trip - so why not!

So Giorgio and I headed off like a pair of muggins to the gorgeous St. Andrew's By the Sea. Wonderful place - lousy trip on a tiny plane. G didn't tell me that he was air sick. But he was - as noted on this trip and others to follow.

We were unable to get in to the big resort where all the important dudes were staying - but were put up in the B&B accross the street from the resort called - Pansy House. I shit you not - Pansy House. It was nice - all hardwood and doilies and quilts.

Day 1 was about play - Day 2 about work.

Day 1 - Giorgio treats all 15 delagates to golf. I sit back at the B&B and read a book. The way the world works. Let him do the schmoozing - I didn't need to put myself out!

Dinner on day 1 was to be at Archies - right on the Bay of Fundy - and aren't we lucky - its lobster season.

Now Giorgio and I walked to the restaurant and on the way divulged our most innermost secret - I hate fish and shellfish of all kinds. So does Giorgio. Whew. So, when we get there - no matter what the peer pressure of being on the waterfront - we will not eat fish. We both knew that they were the million dollar clients - this was a huge dinner - but we were principled people - we were going to stick to our guns.l

Into the kitschiest restaurant ever in the universe we walked - posture perfect fuelled by our self righteousness. It was the kind of place with plastic lobsters and crabs on the wall strung with old fishing nets. Plastic table cloths in red and white checks and wood pannelling. It was perfect for a restaurant on the Bay of anything.

Everyone was already there. And they had saved us seats - together - which is every networking professional team's nightmare - at the very end of the table. As we take our seats - the waitress places 2 beers in front of each of us and Chuck informs us both that we are already behind - and that they have taken the liberty of ordering for us. Oh great.

Giorgio looks at me and I look at him and we agree - we are going to eat what we're given - neither of us are going to have any principles - we are going to do this for our jobs - take one for the team as it were.

Out comes the starter - it is a HUGE bowl of mussels - and I think to myself -oh goodie - we are sharing the starters - those are like cake batter bowls - I can get away with not eating many. Ah - but I'd never been to the east coast before - of course they weren't for sharing. Each one of us was served a HUGE bowl of mussels - lets say 30- as a starter. I have eaten mussels before. I even liked them once. But I'd shared a bowl of a dozen mussels with 3 other people. I can handle that. But I am nothing if not a team player - and with the assistance of my beer - served 2 at a time - I managed to choke them down. The booze and the superiority I felt watching Giorgio actually gag - helped A LOT!

Out came bibs.

Oh holyshitjesuschrist - they ordered us lobster! And as I'm planning how I'm going to hide my lobster under my potatoes and peas, they set my lobster in front of me. The thing is frigging HUGE but at this point - that's no surprise is it? But, what is my lobster served with? Potatoes? Rice? Salad? Veggies? Nope - lobster and a side order of mussels. More fucking mussels. It's like serving steak with a side order of pork chops. Or lasagne with a side order of spaghetti. Its just not right. Not right and ugh.
Giorgio and I both tried and tried to eat that lobster but rather than taking one for the team it was like taking it right up the ass - over and over and over - from the team - only with gobs of melted butter attached. And let me tell you right here people, when you don't like lobster, not even butter will save it. I would have rather drank the butter straight up.
But, by stuffing some in my napkin, leaving LOTS in the claws and even spilling some on the ground I managed to make it through dinner.
Poor Giorgio barfed all night at the B&B.
Day 2 - we did the presentation for our lovely gentlemen hosts. Giorgio did the intro and sales and I filled in the little things - like FACTS. It worked and all went well.
Together Giorgio and I made a bunch of trips with those boys. I could keep up drink for drink. I could eat their steaks and smelly cheeses. Giorgio could golf and smoke cigars and I wore low cut shirts. We were a great team.
The moral of the story is - teams come in all shapes and sizes. No wait - the moral of the story is that sometimes you just have to take one for the team and suck it up. Or wait - is it that Boys will be boys? Sometimes the greater good requires that you have no principles? Or if I guy named Chuck who controls you career advancement says eat - you eat? Either way.


Saturday, August 4, 2007

Girl Parts

Over the last 6 months I have developed something that most women take for granted. I have never before this point in my life had PMS. Yep - that's right PMS. Never had a cramp - been retaining water - broken out - experienced irrational mood swings - nothing. I was totally truly blessed and apparently as were my family and friends.

(If I've been a bitch to you in the past and you've tried to write it off as "its just her time of the month" - dude - it wasn't - I'm just a bitch sometimes - full stop. But thanks!)

As part of what the doctor tells me is "peri-menopause" or early onset menopause I am experiencing all the joys of being a woman - its like all of my Christmases have come at once!

Lets use today as an example:
1) I have a pimple the size of a small town right between my eyebrows and it hurts. Really really hurts. You know the kind - its a pimple alright but its not something that you could satisfyingly pick at or remove. Sucks.
2) I yelled at my husband this morning because he was wearing a baseball cap that the dog chewed to go golfing in - and he couldn't find his good Jay's cap...yep - I'm going to call that an irrational mood swing.
3) I feel like someone is standing on my lower stomach and jumping up and down. I don't know that this is cramps but I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it is. I understand now why women back in the day took to their beds for a week at a time if this is the hell that they had to endure.
4) I have no ankles and my elastic waist shorts are too tight. Not good.

I totally hate this. How do people put up with this crap? I guess I have been lucky for the last twenty something years. I'm starting to think that I might have lived a different life if I'd gone through this my whole life. I would have never gone to gym class - angered friends and made hasty hormone fuelled decisions...coulda change my whole life.

So - in my anger filled progesterone haze I will sit around and be sore and horrible and just cling to the hope that as quickly as it came it will also go. Bring on the menopause quickly and easily - I welcome your goddess HRT!