Early one morning right before Christmas, I awoke to the sound of angels singing. I stayed quiet for a few minutes, searching the darkness for possibilities and letting my eyes adjust to the immediate surrounds.
“Nothing here to explain the sound,” I thought to myself, and began to settle back toward sleep. Then I heard it again. The sound of angels singing. Without further ado, and as quiet as a mouse, I climbed out of bed and went to the window.
Down below in the street, all was calm, all was bright, all was snowy, all was white. The only things on the sidewalk were tiny critter prints, and there was a gentle fog that barely hid the streetlights and neighbourhood decorations. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year.
I was about to give up and go back to bed when a car came into view. Now, I knew Santa usually arrived by sleigh, and even if he had changed his mode of transportation, he was a tad early, so this was clearly someone else. Confident that I would not be seen from my perch, I peered through the frosted pane and watched and listened for what I expected would come.
The car stopped right in front of our house, and a moment later, a man climbed out the driver’s side. Although inside the car was probably warm and outside probably not, he left his door slightly ajar, allowing the most beautiful sound to fill the air. “Oh, Holy Night.”
With our morning paper in hand, he walked all the way to our door and back again, accompanied by the sound of angels singing. When he climbed into his car and closed the door, I could still hear, not the angels, but him finishing off the chorus in the safety and solitude of his own company.
The silence that followed gave me pause for consideration.
I watched a lone squirrel scamper across the neighbour’s snowy drive, and then looked around our room, taking note of everything cosy and warm.
I couldn’t help but think how lucky we are to have a roof over our heads, protecting us from the cold, in a country where someone brings you a paper every morning. I felt truly blessed.
Like a cheeky Cheshire cat, I felt a yawn, a stretch, and then a grin coming on. I looked once more outside our window. Our wintry neck of the woods was still mostly fast asleep, but the sun would soon be up, the snow would stop, the moon would disappear along with the fog, and morning would stir us into our day.
I climbed into bed, and as I laid my head on the pillow, I heard a familiar sound — “Oh, Holy Night” — but it was neither the angels nor the newspaper carrier I heard singing. It was me. And with that realisation, I lulled myself off to sleep as winter waited patiently outside.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Why I love winter
In case you were wondering ....
It 'fit's in with my lifestyle. Plenty of opportunity to shovel and sweep, scrape the windscreens, walk in a wonderland, and stave off the results of too much eating, slothing and lounging.
It makes me feel more charitable. I think of those who find it more difficult to navigate the ice and the snow and the very chilly conditions. I think I'm actually nicer to people this time of year, and that sets the tone for the rest of the year.
It cleans everything up. Junk and rubbish left lying around, doggie poo that owners won't clean up, derelict in all its multiple forms, and people who should have curfews are somehow invisible, or white, and we forget about them - for a while, at least.
The clothes are amazing! Stylish coats, colourful toques, toasty-warm gloves, gorgeous boots, long comfy scarves, thick jumpers (sweaters), long skirts and fabulous pants. I'd wear them all year round if I could.
There's always the chance of a snow day. I've only ever been snowed-in once - and I chose to go outside to video and photograph the blizzard. Duh! Pining for a day or three when I can stay inside and do nothing except read, watch and relax.
Family back home think I'm nuts - but now they have a new reason. Well, it is hard for them to consider minus 30, or indeed minus anything, as fun and enjoyable when they are used to plus double digits for most of their year.
It makes me less homesick. It's the only season I don't experience back home, unless I head to the Snowy Mountains in August, so I know I am away from family and friends, and I'm somehow okay with that. Not so much in spring, summer and fall.
If there's enough of it often enough, then re-meeting neighbours in the spring is a wonderful surprise! Enough said.
It means Christmas is either coming or going. Personally, I like both. The anticipation and the festivities are thrilling, the opportunity to share good wishes with family and friends here and there is heartwarming, and the lamb roast on Christmas day is worth surviving all that rush. On the other side, the slower pace is appreciated, the return to work is welcome 'cause I got some interesting stuff on the go and am keen to get back to it, and the knowledge that there are at least three months of winter to go is exciting and exhilarating.
I get to say thanks ... to each and every one of you for so many reasons. Being my friend, my family, my colleague, my neighbour, my mentor, my partner, my sounding board, my whatever I need when I need it. You for me, and me for you. It works both ways, you know.
And with that, I wish a very merry Christmas to you and yours, safe travels wherever you may go, and all the very best for the new year.
And here's to winter in all its glory for as long as it deems us worthy of its blessings!
It 'fit's in with my lifestyle. Plenty of opportunity to shovel and sweep, scrape the windscreens, walk in a wonderland, and stave off the results of too much eating, slothing and lounging.
It makes me feel more charitable. I think of those who find it more difficult to navigate the ice and the snow and the very chilly conditions. I think I'm actually nicer to people this time of year, and that sets the tone for the rest of the year.
It cleans everything up. Junk and rubbish left lying around, doggie poo that owners won't clean up, derelict in all its multiple forms, and people who should have curfews are somehow invisible, or white, and we forget about them - for a while, at least.
The clothes are amazing! Stylish coats, colourful toques, toasty-warm gloves, gorgeous boots, long comfy scarves, thick jumpers (sweaters), long skirts and fabulous pants. I'd wear them all year round if I could.
There's always the chance of a snow day. I've only ever been snowed-in once - and I chose to go outside to video and photograph the blizzard. Duh! Pining for a day or three when I can stay inside and do nothing except read, watch and relax.
Family back home think I'm nuts - but now they have a new reason. Well, it is hard for them to consider minus 30, or indeed minus anything, as fun and enjoyable when they are used to plus double digits for most of their year.
It makes me less homesick. It's the only season I don't experience back home, unless I head to the Snowy Mountains in August, so I know I am away from family and friends, and I'm somehow okay with that. Not so much in spring, summer and fall.
If there's enough of it often enough, then re-meeting neighbours in the spring is a wonderful surprise! Enough said.
It means Christmas is either coming or going. Personally, I like both. The anticipation and the festivities are thrilling, the opportunity to share good wishes with family and friends here and there is heartwarming, and the lamb roast on Christmas day is worth surviving all that rush. On the other side, the slower pace is appreciated, the return to work is welcome 'cause I got some interesting stuff on the go and am keen to get back to it, and the knowledge that there are at least three months of winter to go is exciting and exhilarating.
I get to say thanks ... to each and every one of you for so many reasons. Being my friend, my family, my colleague, my neighbour, my mentor, my partner, my sounding board, my whatever I need when I need it. You for me, and me for you. It works both ways, you know.
And with that, I wish a very merry Christmas to you and yours, safe travels wherever you may go, and all the very best for the new year.
And here's to winter in all its glory for as long as it deems us worthy of its blessings!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Going off the rails
The past week has been interesting, to say the least. Busy, busy, busy, and we are still nine days out from Christmas. My shopping is essentially done and the lamb roast is still a mere temptation, but my rule of no late mid-week nights, or only one if absolutely necessary, has proved to be my undoing and sent me completely off the rails.
No need to go through each day, but suffice to say it got out of control on Monday and went downhill from there. Too many meetings, too many appointments, and three very late nights that left me craving for anonymity and my "no" voice.
It wasn't so much the "do" list that did me in, but the accompanying, or perhaps more exactly, the resulting failure to eat - properly, and in some cases, at all.
Before I go any further, let's be clear. I'm not a fan of diets, and I eat lots of chocolate, love desserts, and consume coffee on a regular basis. But, I have made a concerted effort of late to eat more fruit and veggies, and drink more water and tea. Yeah, I know; sounds boring already.
Anyway, as the saying goes, you don't miss something until you go without ... or, whatever. And I have to say that living on fries, lattes and Maltesers - not all at once, but the easiest fast-food options available at the time - made me miss oranges, apples and blueberry tea more than I could have imagined.
So, today, being a Friday free of anything on my schedule, saw me back on the rails - especially after I caught up on some of that long-lost sleep. And I feel quite rejuvenated, inspired even, and happy to be missing that interim menu of little substance and only relatively short-term joy.
It's okay to take a different track every now and then, just as long as there's a plan for recovery. For my money, the best thing about going off the rails is living to tell the tale and then getting back on. In fact, I think it should be a periodic requirement - a gift that allows us to consider ourselves with as little judgement as possible.
Can't want to see what the silly season brings and how I navigate my way through it. I have high hopes for success, as long as no one gives me fries, lattes or Maltesers.
It is too early to cook up that lamb roast, honey?
No need to go through each day, but suffice to say it got out of control on Monday and went downhill from there. Too many meetings, too many appointments, and three very late nights that left me craving for anonymity and my "no" voice.
It wasn't so much the "do" list that did me in, but the accompanying, or perhaps more exactly, the resulting failure to eat - properly, and in some cases, at all.
Before I go any further, let's be clear. I'm not a fan of diets, and I eat lots of chocolate, love desserts, and consume coffee on a regular basis. But, I have made a concerted effort of late to eat more fruit and veggies, and drink more water and tea. Yeah, I know; sounds boring already.
Anyway, as the saying goes, you don't miss something until you go without ... or, whatever. And I have to say that living on fries, lattes and Maltesers - not all at once, but the easiest fast-food options available at the time - made me miss oranges, apples and blueberry tea more than I could have imagined.
So, today, being a Friday free of anything on my schedule, saw me back on the rails - especially after I caught up on some of that long-lost sleep. And I feel quite rejuvenated, inspired even, and happy to be missing that interim menu of little substance and only relatively short-term joy.
It's okay to take a different track every now and then, just as long as there's a plan for recovery. For my money, the best thing about going off the rails is living to tell the tale and then getting back on. In fact, I think it should be a periodic requirement - a gift that allows us to consider ourselves with as little judgement as possible.
Can't want to see what the silly season brings and how I navigate my way through it. I have high hopes for success, as long as no one gives me fries, lattes or Maltesers.
It is too early to cook up that lamb roast, honey?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan
For starters, let's confirm a few things. It's porridge, or more precisely, porridge with banana. And yes, it is lunch, not breakfast, although, to be honest, I could eat porridge any time of the day or night, especially if it has banana in it. And not simply on the top, but cooked right along with the porridge. Got that idea while dining at Stella's in Winnipeg - they used to put the banana on the side, but now it's cooked in and, I have to say, is stunningly delicious!
But I digress.
So, why do I eat my lunch out of a saucepan?
1. Easy peasy. Thirty seconds to gather tools and ingredients, three minutes to cook. And if I can do it, anyone can.
2. Less washing up. The saucepan is the only item of note, other than the measuring spoon (which technically only needs to be rinsed) and the eating spoon (which definitely needs to be scrubbed clean for the benefit of future users).
3. Consistent temperature. If you pour porridge from a warm saucepan into a cold bowl, you end up with 'Mama Bear temperature' porridge. And if it's not good enough for Goldilocks, it's not good enough for me. This method guarantees Baby Bear temperature.
4. Time on a budget. Quick and easy to go from stove top to couch, which is where I usually eat my lunch.
5. Budget on a budget. Banana $0.40, milk $0.12, porridge $0.07, water $0.01, satisfaction of a meal well cooked ... priceless!
6. Left hand knows what the right hand is doing. The left hand always holds the saucepan handle, leaving the right hand to operate the stirring spoon, the remote, and the eating spoon - in whatever order is required.
7. Virtually spill proof. Medium-size saucepan, enough porridge for one. So unless I trip on the way in, there is no danger of spillage en route from kitchen to living room. However, from saucepan to mouth is a different matter entirely.
8. High "Mmmm!" factor. Nothing more needs to be said - or added.
No, I'm not the only person in the world who eats out of a saucepan, nor the only one in our house. But I can tell you that once you go down that proverbial road, you, too, will be hooked on the perfect combination of fast, easy, cheap and delicious.
And that, my friends, is why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan.
But I digress.
So, why do I eat my lunch out of a saucepan?
1. Easy peasy. Thirty seconds to gather tools and ingredients, three minutes to cook. And if I can do it, anyone can.
2. Less washing up. The saucepan is the only item of note, other than the measuring spoon (which technically only needs to be rinsed) and the eating spoon (which definitely needs to be scrubbed clean for the benefit of future users).
3. Consistent temperature. If you pour porridge from a warm saucepan into a cold bowl, you end up with 'Mama Bear temperature' porridge. And if it's not good enough for Goldilocks, it's not good enough for me. This method guarantees Baby Bear temperature.
4. Time on a budget. Quick and easy to go from stove top to couch, which is where I usually eat my lunch.
5. Budget on a budget. Banana $0.40, milk $0.12, porridge $0.07, water $0.01, satisfaction of a meal well cooked ... priceless!
6. Left hand knows what the right hand is doing. The left hand always holds the saucepan handle, leaving the right hand to operate the stirring spoon, the remote, and the eating spoon - in whatever order is required.
7. Virtually spill proof. Medium-size saucepan, enough porridge for one. So unless I trip on the way in, there is no danger of spillage en route from kitchen to living room. However, from saucepan to mouth is a different matter entirely.
8. High "Mmmm!" factor. Nothing more needs to be said - or added.
No, I'm not the only person in the world who eats out of a saucepan, nor the only one in our house. But I can tell you that once you go down that proverbial road, you, too, will be hooked on the perfect combination of fast, easy, cheap and delicious.
And that, my friends, is why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan.