When I was a little girl – my mother always bought season tickets for the symphony orchestra and took (dragged) me along. I had to get all dressed up in skirts or dresses and stockings and good shoes or boots. I had a little gold hair-band with pearls on it that dug in behind my ears and gave me a headache. And I had to behave which meant sitting absolutely still and listening. And not talking. Or coughing. Or sniffling. Or even yawning. It was painful. (more…)
This morning we woke up to the first real snow of the season. As much as I don’t absolutely love winter, I have to admit, the first snowfall is always a thrill. It’s pretty. And at least momentarily, the world is a beautiful, clean, white slate. (more…)
Recently I stumbled across the work of the German existential philosopher, Martin Heidegger (1889 – 1976), who explored the subject of being - that is, our way of being in the world - our human ability to confront issues such as our personhood and mortality; and the paradox of living in relationship with other humans while being ultimately alone with oneself.
I’ve never studied philosophy. But I do find the paradox of living in relationship with other humans while being ultimately alone with oneself, immensely interesting and relevant. And complicated.
Cranberry, Pear, and Plum Pressed-Crust Tart – shown here unbaked
I don’t normally post two days in a row. But yesterday, instead of making Sunday dinner, I was writing a blog post about a pressed-crust pear and plum tart that I’d recently made and loved. By the time I got downstairs to start making dinner I was in a big rush and all I could think of was the tart.
So as soon as I’d put the main course into the oven, I abandoned my plans for making oatmeal date squares and decided to make the tart again – this time version 2.0 since I didn’t have enough plums or pears for the first version. (more…)
In the face of adversity – I always retreat to the kitchen.
I love my kitchen and cooking is my favourite form of therapy.
I once met my neighbour in the grocery store and she told me I looked ashen and asked me if I was feeling okay. I’m sure I did look quite pale. I’d just driven my car into the car in front of me at a red light in broad daylight. (more…)
My paternal grandfather was one of the great loves of my life. He introduced me to the concept of unconditional love, though neither of us ever used those words. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I never heard him use the word love and he wasn’t particularly demonstrative either. But I knew he loved me – long before I knew much of anything at all. (more…)