Happy Monday! It’s a long weekend here and I am “enjoying” this little one:
I say “enjoying” because after FOUR WHOLE DAYS with a 14 month old, it’s actually “enduring” ha! Toddlers are a lot of work! How did I ever have my own? How do any of us? Even my bestie- a child care PROFESSIONAL- is a little in awe of us. She thinks we’re brave…
He goes home today and while his current nickname is The Terrorist, he’s been most excellent for someone with such high needs. He’s napping now so I can say that ;P I know five seconds after he leaves I’ll miss him <3. And how lucky am I to have full and easy access to him? Pretty damn lucky!
I bought a flat of strawberries on Friday. I froze them all up -made some jam too!- and am thinking about all the yummy things I’m going to make with them:
I love me a man who swears and this human is a particularly fine one 🙂
My birds are so hilariously bold now! The Crow visits me every so often and calls to me to come out. I am very well trained! The Blue Jays sit in the tree and stare in at me, if they cant find me in one room, they fly to another window and the Magpies seem pretty content to just ignore me. I bought some seed for the little birds so we’ll see how they react. As it is now they like to take me out at the knee in the yard by flying straight past me as I walk by…little asses! So far no Mockingbirds though 😛
I hope your Monday is going well and if it’s not I hope it goes quickly for you so you can start fresh on Tuesday!
This one taught me about ferocious protectiveness, expectations versus reality, loss, insecurity, Oneness, acceptance and renewal. She showed me my mortality. She showed me myself perfectly reflected in her. She showed me love.
A headstrong, goofball wild-child blessing. My Miss Sassafras.
This one taught me to relax into comfort and ease. To love wholeheartedly with security, to watch and admire all with wonder and awe and, that good things come to those who wait, even after a loss.
My bulldozer baby, Mr. OV.
Being a Grandmother is the best role I’ve ever been in. It’s not perfect. Please don’t misunderstand me, its nowhere close to being a perfect experience but it is RICH in all things and FULL of LIFE. I am so grateful to have experienced this stage, as it is. I feel like the Skin Horse in The Velveteen Rabbit, REAL.
I hope you all get the chance to be come REAL too.
Boston Pizza had an event on the 14th, for Valentine’s Day. Buy any small or medium pizza ( heart shaped or not ) and one dollar from each pizza would be donated to a local children’s charity.
I like pizza. I like excuses to go out for lunch in the middle of the week. I like celebrating love with my Hubby. I like money going to kids.
We ordered the Viva Italia. The description from their website:
Arrabbiata pizza sauce, pizza mozzarella, Genoa salami, chopped bacon, spicy Italian sausage, roasted red peppers, banana peppers, goat cheese, freshly grated Parmesan and a pesto drizzle.
What we got:
How did it taste?
Damn good! Even with that slightly dark crust.
I’m not a huge Boston Pizza fan. I find the food to be … pretty basic. There is nothing wrong with it, it’s just me. Having said that, I do have a favourite go to whenever the Hubs wants to eat there – Jambalaya Fettucine- and whenever I order it, it is consistently good. That is HUGE for me. So right away the place gets props for that.
This pizza brings my list from one to two. It was amazing! Lots of ingredients, spread evenly over the crust. The overall taste was salty-in a good way-briny, creamy, spicy, and savoury. Not one ingredient overpowered the other. Each one was distinct and everything worked so well together. I even liked the pesto drizzle. I HATE pesto but it was a STAR on this pie. I would order this again. Hell, I’m craving more now!
We didnt eat the whole pie-I wanted to!- because we were saving room for dessert! One dollar from each sale of their Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake goes to a local children’s charity, too. From their site:
Dark chocolate sponge cake layered with milk chocolate and white chocolate mousse, topped with whipped cream and a chocolate coin.
The verdict. Good if not plain. There was nothing wrong with it and nothing overly spectacular either. That didn’t stop me from stuffing my face 🙂
Our service was fast, friendly and efficient. The food was good. It was a great way to spend the lunch hour, that’s for sure.
And because it was Valentine’s Day, I bring you this:
One neatly folded napkin -my husband. And one crumpled messy one-mine.
This makes me laugh because a. my Hubs pointed it out to me, which means he’s gathering insight which is unusual for him. b. this is a direct view inside each of our brains-him neat and organized, me- messy and all over the place c. despite this huge difference and despite some pretty major troubles in our 20 odd year marriage, we’re still here together, living and working and growing through it all ❤
I first came to love a simple roast beef sandwich, 26 years ago whilst standing in the kitchen with future mother in law.
I’d had them before, but usually always with deli meat, never an actual piece of roasted meat. This just screamed comfort to me. Hominess. I was a girl who craved such things even as a young 19 year old.
I can remember Mum apologizing for serving me leftovers – I think I was over for lunch that day-and I thought she was so cute. Leftovers! Like having REAL left over roast beef in sandwiches was a bad thing. I don’t think there was ever a day in my own family where we’d ever had such a thing. Her left overs were my luxury!
We ate happily together and that sandwich has stayed with me ever since. It was so simple yet so good. Quality ingredients put together well.
In the years since, I’ve fine tuned my version of the sandwiches we ate that day. My meat is barely cooked – hers was WELL, well done- I add salt and pepper and slather on way more butter than Mum ever would. Sometimes, my meat is spiced, sometimes its plain. But its always basically the same- meat, white bread, and butter. Yum!
What’s your favourite way to enjoy a roast beef sandwich?
For the first time in a long ass time, the Hubs and I had everyone over for dinner. Just because. As of late our family has been fractured. Disconnected.
First there was ( and is ) my son’s drug addiction. Then there was The Great Marriage/Mental Health Fiasco of ’16. We’ve been struggling! Grasping at what was. Hurting with what is. Longing for what could be.
But fear not! A shift has occurred, as shifts do and somehow – I’m unable to pinpoint it all exactly – our family is coming back together, once again.
Dinner went well! There was food- mac n cheese, roasted sausages, mixed vegetables- there were laughs-lots of good natured “roasting” lots of chasing the kids around, lots of jokes and silliness, there were grandkids..
and there was pie!
When I was making said pie, I was triggered by a memory of a former life.
My very first job after having my son was in this crappy little bakery, tucked away in the back corner of a garden shop. I was a clerk. I sold treats, sliced bread, made sandwiches, washed dishes and sometimes got to bake cookies.
It would have been an alright job had it not been for one of my co-workers. A spoiled, rich asshole and son of the owners. A man prone to temper tantrums. Legit, tantrums. The kind a toddler would have.
So I’m working away up front, his mother is in the office and Dickhead is in the back doing baker things. I’ve got customers in the shop and we’re all distracted from our calm by the sound of metal clanging and things flying around , followed by the slamming of a door. What the…??? I know what’s going on but the customers don’t so they very quickly finish up and take their leave, visibly disturbed by the commotion. I don’t even remember what I said to them…probably nothing. I have no idea WHAT the problem was this time but from past experience, but I’m sure we’ll ALL hear about later.
Dickhead comes back in after a while – Shawn! His name was Shawn!- Anyway, Dickhead comes back in and the mystery of why is solved. I hear him talking to his mum about how his egg whites wont build because apparently I didn’t wash the bowl properly- grease in your meringue bowl impedes lift- and how I’m an idiot and this and that and on and on. He’s totally raging and trashing me, saying the vilest of things.
This is all said out loud with no regard for privacy. I can hear every word. Mommy is trying to calm him down and placate him and he eventually chills and tries to make it all again, saying nothing to me. Nobody says anything to me! Which makes the whole thing even more awkward.
I carry on with my job, tense as fuck, not knowing what I should do in any direction. I’m not the only one who does dishes in that place! Do I say something? What should I do? Ahhhh! I hate this! I have to walk past Dickhead much later and he is still simmering with rage. So much so that, as I pass him he spits out at me ” You stupid fucking cunt!”
Now, present day Lael would have stopped whatever she was doing, gathered up her belongings and walked out the front door, never to be seen again. No question.
Past Lael wasn’t as wise. Or as brave. What did I do? I ignored him. Which I guess is a defense in itself. But then I kept on working there until I eventually quit because Dickhead started sexually harassing me.
The thing of it is, I didn’t tell anyone about that first incident. Why? I felt ashamed. Like his asshole behavior was a reflection of me. Maybe I really did do a shitty job of washing the bowl…I was paralyzed with fear and doubt and …the ickiness that comes from being around adults who have temper tantrums and treat people like garbage. Of course, even if it was my fault, is a poorly washed bowl ANY justification for being so aggressive and awful to another human? Nope! Of course not! I wish I had said something to someone, I know now I would have gained wisdom and clarity. But live and learn!
Silence is NOT golden. Silence is isolating. I’m grateful for the lesson.
I’d love to go back in time to redo THAT experience. In a way now, every time I speak up, stand up and take myself out of a toxic situations, I am!
All this from pie 🙂
Which was delicious! I found the recipe online, here.
Have you ever been in a situation like that? Have you ever thought back and wondered WHY you put up with something so obviously toxic? What did you learn in hindsight?
This wee Monster Baby woke me up at 6am Sunday morning.
But how could I resist such a sweet boy? I just don’t think its possible.
Besides, fuck that! I spent years as a Mum, resisting my children’s charms because I was so concerned with doing it “right”, with making sure I had positive power, authority and influence over them. Ignoring the truth that I knew damn well that I have no natural authority, ha. And I was faking my confidence and knowledge the whole time. It was all smoke and mirrors, Baby! I spent the whole time my kids were under my care being terrified of making a mistake and living in fear that I and I alone could mess them up so badly if I did. So fuck ALLLL of that 🙂
I found out, the hard way, that you can do all the right things and your kids will still mess up. You can do all the wrong things and they won’t. Life is funny like that.
Being a grandparent is a pretty sweet gig. None of that parenting nonsense.
Now, because I know different, I do things with my heart. It seems to be working out better for all.