What is Love -

Sitting here in solitude this early Christmas morning. Rain drizzle outside, soft glow of the tree. Old dog curled up by my side. The years slip by. Memories seem like distant times and yet offer more clarity to the story of the way we are. Where there lacks peace , I find understanding. For my part I should have done patience better.I should have understood love better. In my youth, the present things took me by surprise and reactions were quicker and impulsive. Time is a gift, really. I'm looking ahead to the person I still want to become. More introspective. Life has already given me so much to learn from. People have revealed their own hearts. I can make peace with myself even if they are not peaceable or wiling to look into themselves. I can be patient with those who are still young and don't know about the battle of reactions, of being taken by surprise, and of impulse. I will guard my heart from abuse, manipulation and exploitation. I will not engage with those that slander me. I will shield my children from harmful people and provide safe space for them to grow into clarity of their own value. I can give time and space for others to reflect and come back to me. I can release myself to allow others to own what is theirs and only own what is between me and my Maker. I can extend myself to those who are open to what I have to offer in relationship. I can stand firm in what I believe and let you stand firm in yours , even if that means I will stand without you. I can forgive and let go the repentent and the unrepented. I can set boundaries on how much of my soul I will share and in doing so love,cherish and protect myself. I will give of myself what I am freely willing to part with and I won't resent you for taking what I gave. Through all this I can put on Love - Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. May 2024 be a year where I walk in Love with the kind of boundaries it takes to truly live out its truth.

Reflections Between Mind & Body 16/06/21

I miss you - and I miss us. I miss our team work. The way I would see the things that had to be done, the things that would inspire us and you would catch that spark and leap into action. I dreamed it and you never doubted your abilities to set it in motion. You were strong enough, capable enough and able enough to see it all through. You were a rock , a stubborn and fiercely determined partner. Perhaps too stubborn. You failed me. Or maybe I took advantage of you. But you never put any brakes on my ideas or whims. You relentlessly just kept doing the things and when you couldn't or it hurt you , you bore through it until you broke. And in your breaking you have broken me too. Maybe you are just as angry at me - for pushing when it's my job to know better. So now here we are. What do we do ? I don't have the answers anymore. I've adapted, you've rested and you've pushed. We are shadows of our former self. Unrecognizable if the world were to actually see us as we clumsily fake our way through what's left. I'm embarrassed , disappointed , angry , frustrated and deeply sorrowed. It's far too soon to call the game. I don't want to spend my life playing candy crush, scrolling facebook, pinning things onto boards I'll never do. My reflections cause me pain ; whether I look back, or forward , or even to the here and now. I am trying. You are trying. And we are failing. Falling. Alone. Invisible. I miss you - and I miss us . And I miss the days that we were enough.

Life's not working

 

I don't know if I should feel horrible or if it's just a matter of the years passing quickly. 

I worked , I really worked.  I was a basic Jack-of-All-Trades, Master-of-Nothing type person.  I took every task and threw my all into it.  Maybe from the outside it didn't look like much . I never strived so much for perfection as I did for absolute service. Maybe I just came off as frantic all these years. 

I always struggled with the irritating #noexcuses in direct opposition to #selfcare. It seemed to be "you're only limitations are in your own mind, push yourself" vs  "know your limits, listen to your body". If I worked there were critics, if I rested there they were there too.  So I just loved on everyone I could and raised my personal bar.  

Now I'm in my 40's and the rapid decline to my physical body cannot continue at this pace.  And still the voices are there - catch phrases of advice to keep pushing myself to exercise, lose weight, or eat better, or sleep more, drink more water, take my vitamins , push , push , push....  like somehow my lack of action has caused my pain and suffering or maybe it's too much action that has caused it. Because it always seems to be one or the other but always something I did, or did not, do.  All my fault , a product of my own destruction. A false sense of control projected onto whatever the situation may be.  

struggling with 12 hr shifts

In 2019 I had surgery for Carpal Tunnel - my "recovery" took about nine months. Peppered with the usual advise of "try to move it, my (or my mom's or my neighbour's)  recovery was six weeks, blah , blah"  and "don't push yourself, you are going to have yourself to blame if you wreck your  hand".... 
I still have limited mobility in my right hand.  At my stress test a shocked technician asked if my hand was always completely numb. Yes , it was , I said. 

 

14 days post op and very discouraged 

   My surgeon said my nerve was     almost black -nearly "dead". It       was explained that one of the         pains and the  numbness was       Carpal   Tunnel, but the other  was   Tendonitis , and the other     Arthritis.  So  no, my hand is not better but it was never going   to be. My left  hand is nearly as bad and as I type I can't even   curl my fingers  today , the pain is  piercing. Mostly no one   notices because I use  my forearms to hold things or my palms to brace what my hand is doing. I've become somewhat ambidextrous .  I was unable to return to working as a Chef and moved on to working as a Chef Instructor , teaching at a culinary school. 

Teaching at the College 

In 2020 I had surgery for an Umbilical Hernia.  I had laughed so hard one evening that I literally popped out my bellybutton and went to emerg - yeah... laughter is not always the best medicine. Somehow I felt very punished for joy.   Thanks to the pandemic it was months of waiting for surgery , wearing a special belt to hold me together , frequent visits to ER when I couldn't. They would stuff me back in and send me home. I was unable to continue working as a Chef Instructor.  I sat and tried not to add to my problems for several months.  No laughing , no lifting , no sudden movements or straining of any kind. Trying to embrace the spiritual lesson that might be packed in there.  Wondering why God would give me talents that I couldn't use but trying to accept that just the same. 

Becoming a person I didn't feel I was created to be.  Maybe trying to make space to allow my family to become the people that they were made to be. 

Can't keep me down.  I would volunteer - the youth centre was in need of someone to make a regular meal and I was in need of some place to serve. If my body went bad again it was a low commitment, I would be easily replaced. Look at me being flexible to life's circumstances.  Within the week I was staff and now Kitchen Manager. 

 A couple of months ago the pain in my hands has started to ramp up again. I move my hands like they are just claws , I have not strength. Not a problem , I'm not just a  Chef , I'm also a Manager . I'd been a manager in my early years of marriage.   I'll "manage" the position and I tried to shift my focus towards management, advocacy and mentorship.   But the pandemic had other plans and I am shut out for the foreseeable month.  


Okay - a rest is good.  But the truth is I won't rest - I can't sit (and get fatter and lazier and have imposed opinions on why my house is a mess, or why my kids aren't learning piano , or why my garden is overrun). 
I am trying to do less- and trying to find balance- and trying to  work smarter, not harder - and trying to practice gratitude- and trying to be an encourager - and trying to be in prayer - and trying to stop trying.

I know it was a goal to give my all before departing this world - I guess I didn't think of what that would actually look like mid way through.  My family is freakishly strong for our 5 foot frames - and suddenly I find myself physically weak and incapable.  My nuclear family is probably best known by those that do know us as Get-The-Job-Done people - less fantastic with the interpersonal skills but appreciated for our work ethic and dependability.     

What do you do when you can't be the person you feel you were born to be? 

What do you do when you redefine yourself every six to twelve months to fit the larger, changing, picture ? When you've been flexible, resilient, adaptable?  When your best is the worst thing you can do?  What do you do when the person you are boxed into doesn't fit your value system ? When your body doesn't support your heart and calling ? When you become nothing more than a good intention ? 

Christmas Memories Part 3

 Christmas Young Adult Years 

1995 -2000

In January 1995 I met my eventually husband. Canadian to the core - from Toronto. 
Any cultural gaps I had been missing were about to be filled. 

Even though we had transitioned from a Third World country to a First World one seemingly filled with abundance there were still many things I had yet to experience. 

He came from a world of Christmas movies I had never heard of, Christmas brunches, snow days , mall Santas and trips "up north".  He'd told me his family was French - to my surprise from New Brunswick. 
Catholics.  To this point I honestly thought Quebec was the only way to truly be "French" in Canada ! 

To add to this new experience my man really loves Christmas ! His extravagance would flow from the heart rather than the wallet , a stark contrast between his Irish roots an my own Scottish ones.  

Adding to this was an Italian branch by marriage.

Christmas on his side was very colourful. On one side a flurry of blended families held together by some sort of Christmas magic. On the other, a whirl of English punctuated by French and Italian - fortunately being bilingual well equipped me to keep up as our own home had always blended Portuguese and English from all corners of the missionary world. 

I can remember being very awestruck at the desserts ; cakes, cookies, biscotti, nougat, and panetone. Not even so much at the range of it all but because this was the first time I can recall being encouraged to eat to excess ! Prior to this desserts in my home had been very acutely enjoyed - would you like "this" OR "that" - one cookie, one square of cake , one tablespoon of Christmas pudding I had not recalled multiple items and certainly not seconds and beyond ! 

Also, weirdly in this new world people randomly napped in chairs. IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE ! I cannot remember  my parents ever so much as reclining on the sofa growing up. They were very hard workers and never seemed to really settle down.  

For extra money my husband-to-be would take on seasonal work in the malls as a Santa. His family owned an entertainment business and as such we were also blessed by impromptu magic performances  or new balloon animals and clown acts in the middle of a family visit ! 

For our first married Christmas in 1998 , my husband greatly surprised me with a brand new Christmas tree and now no matter how many needles it sheds is too precious to replace. She is now 22 years old. 

Another great memory I have is gathering around my husband's step mother's table. She was a personal chef and former restauranteur . Her meals were heightened affairs - warm candles, mimosas, and cocktails. Herb crusted roasts and light desserts such as creme brulee.  I vividly recall dainty champagne glasses with fresh raspberries that would be carried up with the bubbles. She taught  me to hold a glass by the stem so to not smudge the glass or warm the drink.  Her conversations were always kind and all inclusive.  Here we talked about celebrity gossip like they were people we knew ! She ignited a strong desire for the culinary arts which I would go on to pursue.  

I do not recall one bad Christmas memory between 1995 and 2000.   

Christmas The Middle Years 
1987 - 1995

The next season of life I'll block off as our return to Canada from Brazil in 1986 until 1995.  Years which marked the second half of my childhood but very much a whole new world. I officially transitioned from being  a Missionary Kid to what I now know to be a "third culture kid". 

Although I do have a lot of memories of this era, I can't really say that they all radiated with comfort and joy. 

Christmases now seemed to arrive with a higher expectation and as it's bound to happen never failed to disappoint. "Things" seemed to be a big focus and so did the comparison game with friends. not that I was ever in true need , or that I even ever felt deprived - but our Christmas haul suddenly seemed to lack luster compared with the abundance of this new First World nation. 

The exception to the rule had to be my father's over the top gifts to my mother, which I can only imagine at the time was intended to impress her greatly ! He overplayed.  One year it was a full drum set - another a very expensive doll house . Bless him, he was a giver but it failed to speak her love language. 

More often than we would probably want to confess the festivities would come to an abrupt halt and be soured by an angry outburst or fight.   Perhaps it was the addition of teenager daughters or just the overwhelming life change for us all. 

Most of the extended family was still in Montreal so although we might venture some visiting through the season , Christmas day itself didn't change for us.  We did however, continue to practice hospitality to friends and even practical strangers who would otherwise have been alone. 

Of course  Nanny and Papa did come spend Christmas with us , or we'd join them. Nanny would bake "melt in your mouth" shortbread. Decorated with barely a twelfth of a maraschino cherry - a nod to our Scottish roots.  From that time on it was always turkey , stuffing, potatoes , and gravy, and sweet jarred pickles. 

My mother seemed to always try some whipped topping and jello type dessert from a magazine - mercifully she eventually settled on a rather "instant " version of trifle.... more whipped topping but at least the jello was now set in the cake layer. 

Another dessert that I found both intriguing and delightful was that Nanny would have a small Christmas pudding. Store bought , however even though she had a microwave (high end technology let me tell you) , this was always steamed . Years later in culinary school I learned that the technique she was using is a "bain marie" - very chic.   
Traditionally this would be served with a rum sauce but they were strict Pentecostals. In fact any liquor that Papa would receive as a gift would be poured immediately down the drain ! Instead, it was served with a warm English custard.  

The rest of our seasonal festivities now included school concerts, church cantadas  and piano recitals. 
This was also the unfortunate era of tacky decor - plastic trees with tinsel and angel hair that would hurt your skin and kill your pets.  Spray snow for windows and all manner of ghastly looking angels ! 

 Christmas Memories
The Early Years
1976-1986

I have a terrible memory that only returns to me in small pieces, often at the worst time. 

I spent my first nine years as a "Missionary Kid" in Brazil between 1977 and 1986. So, even compared to Canada in the same era, it was a different world. 

My memories, if you will, are mostly passed down stories told through my mother's lens and a handful of pictures - my mother was very diligent in taking photos but in that time they were expensive to develop and the concept of digital photography had not yet been imagined. (And let's be honest this was a season where my parents were literally using chickens as currency) 

 I suppose those early Christmas years were happy ones in spite of the fact that we did not spend it with our extended family. Nor did we have much - my sister has memories of receiving balloons for Christmas.   And there was, of course, no snowy -white , Hallmark movie backdrop in the tropics of South America. 

 

I remember one year, perhaps my only authentic  early childhood Christmas memory - I had,... found... a hula hoop hidden under my parent's bed. That , I recall, had been a very exciting thing to receive! 

Of course I faintly recall children's Sunday School Christmas performances with singing - and gifts wrapped not in regular paper but some sort of hard to fold, metallic cellophane-like material. 

We would always unwrap very carefully and fold our paper wrapping - especially the coveted larger pieces for another year and I do not recall doing differently until I was well into my teens.  

Every year we would receive Christmas cards through the mail from our native land, Canada. Full of colour, winter scenes and sparkles. Sometimes the cards were even indented with textures that outlined the pictures.  After Christmas my mother would ceremoniously bring out the good pinking sheers from her sewing box.  Then carefully, and what I perceived to be very skillfully , she would cut out the pictures whose backsides contained no writing and those would saved to be used the following year as the gift tags. 

I can recall singing at least one traditional carol as to this day , from time to time, I'll be humming away "Noite de paz.... noite de amor..... " to the tune of Silent Night. 

 

Doing Hard Things 

I think I come by it naturally to push myself to be better, to do more , to achieve a higher standard.  Growing up I was surrounded by parents who continually did hard things and worked very hard to accomplish good results. My siblings are hard workers. My husband is a hard worker.  We are good stock, you might say.  None of us content to ever just sit still and let life just wander by.
Last summer my family moved, which was a big endeavor as we changed towns and so have had to restructure all life's details. My oldest son lived the weekdays away from home in his first full time seasonal job, a few cities away.  And in the fall I finally returned to school to get my advanced diploma in the culinary arts.  It took me three years to return after the completion of my basic diploma in 2014 - but thanks to the sale of the house it was finally the right time to work that into life.
 

It was a long 15 weeks for me, still adjusting to our new environment whilst settling in our five children and homeschooling gr.11, 9, 6, 3 & 2 - before and after my own classes.  Head to the ground, plow through. Don't look up, don't you take your eyes off the goal. 

My school was located in the heart of Hamilton, above the farmers market.  Walking through street musicians , fresh produce and even the hussle and bussle was all very  hygge- when not overwhelming.

My first sessions were in theory - most dreaded math. Cooking gives me energy but the thought of sitting for hours in front of the text books drained me of almost all I could give. But the smiling faces of the faculty and staff were a great encouragement as was a certificate of recognition. Yup, I got a participation award , but it was enough to see me through the long theory portion. 

Finally in the kitchen I was able to apply myself to the thing that gives me great joy and peace. There is no greater feeling to me than to take "nothing" and shape it into something beautiful , nourishing and satisfying to those who partake. 

 It was not without challenges as I found I had often more enthusiasm than my peers but such is life. This was perhaps my single most disappointment as I had really hoped to enjoy the challenge of younger and perhaps more talented students. But it was worth it to dig within myself and compete against my own standards.

 I was privileged to represent the college at an event at the city hall.  And I passed with Honours - one of the goals I had set for myself going in.
Although I did little to advance my own personal business, I was able to do a few orders over Christmas and a Christmas Treats and Entertaining demo and presentation for a group of 50 women.

 I'm so glad that I took this time to really finish well.  My oldest is just under two years away from his own college days and then I will have a child entering college every two years for the next ten years. My husband will then be retired.  This truly was my last, at least foreseeable, chance for ME. Not a bad run for a 41 year old, wanna be Chef.  Oh, and I received a job offer on my last day of class. The opportunity to do what I love. Serving  and feeding about 50 residents in a private seniors home- once a week and one weekend a month. I can homeschool my children and I can "live the dream". Yes, I am blessed.

Last day of school, a beautiful goodbye to a chapter in my life

Food & Health are not gods

I don't blog much - mostly I'm just not a huge fan of handfuls of advice and rants. Especially from me. I watch the selfies and self promotion disguised as whatever makes the person posting feel  justified and it is a big turn off. A character trait I do not wish to embrace.



So why today's post ? Honestly, because I feel like I'm at a fork in the road - these things happen from time to time and are really just a necessary part of going on. And if I were to be honest,  every now and then I just need a little time and space to feel like I've been heard.

I have so much to look forward to , some of which I am already looking back on. 
Recently we took a big family trip to Halifax, Nova Scotia.  We've done so much as a family already all across Ontario and we even went to Disney a few years ago. But this was special because it was our family's first airplane trip. Time just keeps on going - which for my weary being delights me.  But as happy as I truthfully am to have time clip along I would not want it to pass in vain. So when I was able to work a big catering job in the spring I knew right away that this was how I would want to enjoy those profits.

Now I sit surrounded by boxes. In five days we will be packing up the only home two of my kids have known and heading to a nearby , smaller town to a new to us house. We've been here for almost nine years. In the spirit of honesty a major motivation for wanting to move was the feeling of all my walls closing in from the amount of history this place was packing.  I cherish all the memories I've made here but on a selfish level I crave a piece of anonymity. Opportunities to embrace a dose of solitude. The space my boys need to redefine their own identities. A chance to grow in new directions.

But the biggest thing that weighs heavy on me is what may to others seems like the smallest. Food.
It started 16 years ago while pregnant with an allergy to apples - frustrated by the reaction my mouth was having I stubbornly continued to try to eat them. Then pineapples ... then pears.... then by my fourth pregnancy cherries.
Then came the fifth, sixth and seventh pregnancies adding peaches, almonds, hazelnuts, nectarines -
eventually even my scalp would bleed using products that contained extracts.  An allergy test revealed it was a birch pollen allergy.
At this point I also can't eat tomatoes, carrots, potatoes and I'm noticing that bananas and melons are becoming an increasing irritation so I'll have them at most once a week. 

Adding to this was the passing of my 40th birthday. Which ushered in a new metabolism and loss of muscle mass.  What was a girl to do ? I thought if I was motivated enough and followed people who had success I could figure this out. But to my dismay I'm finding that the current style of motivation is #noexcuses  followed by their list of things they've overcome and endless streams of selfies and food pictures. And it frustrates me to a level that brings me to blog. 

I cook. That is my passion. Do not tell me food isn't love because I will write another blog on how it is. Don't  tell me to eat what I can because what I can eat is expensive protein - which I won't eat all of while six boys/men fill their own plates with starches to adjust to our budget. I can eat citrus - which I quickly discovered that making my main fresh food attacked my mouth with far too much acid. I can eat berries (some) - which again are more expensive and I have another member of the family who cannot eat tiny seeds.  I can eat many tropical fruits - which again are costly , imported and out of season. Each bite is a dollar that takes food off my growing boys plates.  I can have  meal replacement shakes.

Which are moderately  costly but do provide me with essential vitamins and keep my diet balanced. And although it goes against all my personal views of family meals and what real food should be I drink it while I contemplate the death of my food philosophy.  And it all brings me sadness that perhaps others can't understand.

I recently read a #noexcuses style post from a mom who said "don't tell me you don't have time because what I hear is 'it's not a priority'."  And she couldn't have been more right ... and wrong.
It's so much a priority - but at the expense of so many more important things. So many. Things that represent who I am, what I believe, how I serve and love and minister.
And I try to make peace with it all - to eat oatmeal and eggs and water. Right now I'm really broken writing this because it matters to me.  And if I fail and I'm fat and you are disappointed or don't believe me that I am trying then I'll have to be okay with that. I won't spend my days taking pictures of  super foods I've come up with for myself. I won't spend my money  or my time on personal trainers or even diet fads , containers or equipment. I won't give praise  to a company for any success I may achieve.

I will continue to do that which I believe God has called me to do - to use my gifts to extend His love to others.  To embrace the family meal and believe that it is God who continues to provide the increase of any deficiencies my personal body may face. To fill my home with guests and nourish them in a variety of ways.  To bless my neighbours with sweet gifts - do you realize that God's manna was like wafers sweetened with honey? (Ex.16:31)


Food is a gift from God. It is not meant to be idolized through diets as a means to sculpt ourselves into the envy of others or a living advertisement for a company. Or a constant thought even. If we were to be honest we sometimes look at heavy people as thought they have poor self control , make poor choices or are gluttons. But what about the super fit ? Who think about food all the time, spend their efforts on the physical rather than the spiritual and are consumed with things that are not lasting? 

Perhaps this will make me unpopular. My intention is not to offend. I believe in good nutrition and of being good stewards of our bodies while we are here but don't be self deceived. When our first thought and our best efforts are not on God's service , it doesn't matter which side of the scale we are on.

Salt of the Earth

Salt of the Earth 

So I got a wee little spoon today at the antique market. It is actually for my "salt" collection.

During a difficult season of life a wonderful friend gave me a box of Sea Salt Flakes and a lovely card encouraging me to continue being "salt of the earth". It meant so much to me. I bought my first little salt container and displayed some of that beautiful salt to be a reminder to me of what I was to aspire to but also to encourage me that someone saw that in my life despite the turmoil around me. It blessed me immensely. I've added a little to my collection and each time I do it's a time to remember the love expressed to me, the encouragement and the mandate to be salt of the earth to someone else.

(Smoked Sea Salt, Red Wine Infused Sea Salt,

Flaked Sea Salt , Cyprus Black Lava Mediterranean Sea Salt)

Matthew 5:13 You are the salt of the earth.

Rolling !

Rolling ! 

"Rolling !"
The call goes out and the set goes quiet.  My mind once again locked in the moment.

The boys have been doing on and off background work now for the last 3 years.  Mostly tv shows and mini-series.  Nothing too serious, just some limited exposure to life behind the scenes. They earn a little cash, meet up with friends who may be working the same day.  Sometimes the day is very long, the food can range from wonderful to horrible and holding can be spacious or tight. It all depends on the particular day or scene.

At the beginning of the summer we were asked to consider a new role as a "Stand In" in an upcoming major film. The pay was great, the commitment overwhelming, the content questionable at best. It seemed a comfortable resignation when production thought M's hair was too short , or not just right for the part.  We were however, then asked to stand in one week.  That first day they fell in love with M and the casting director approached us about traveling the following week with them for filming. 

In the end there was nothing to consider as I have four other children at home and a husband who works shift work. It was simply out of the question to abandon the entire family on a whim.  They were able to find another stand in to fill in and  the following week M was invited back to set. At that point we had been offered the role again but ultimately agreed to go on a two week commitment basis - forgoing some of the added financial benefits but maintaining a level of scheduling freedom.

For several weeks M's role kicked into high gear. He was fully invested on set and they loved him. He built relationships with the crew and other stand ins , and even hit it off with his main character counterpart ! If you don't know what a stand in's role is it is simply a person who looks similar to the actor who stands in while lighting and cameras are being adjusted. They can also be used as photo doubles in filming long shots from behind where the character himself is not fully in view.
This is actually a surprisingly big role. Much time is spent on set measuring angles and location of where the actor will stand. When the actor arrives, the stand in steps out and is replaced by the actor.

Some of the big challenges we faced were the amount of traveling to different locations , childcare for the other children, time away from family and my spouse and call times as well as the overall lack of productivity on my part during long periods of sitting with M. Call times are very general and can change at any time. Occasionally , a call time would only come in from my agent/production after my son was in bed. We might have to wake up at 5am to travel to set or be on set until after midnight.  Because of my son's age he was able to work an 8 hour shift, plus a one hour lunch and if needed, two hours of overtime.  That's eleven hours, plus travel to different cities. One day I spent 16 hours between set and travel !

Being on set is all about "hurry up and wait".  You can sit for hours. Sometimes in complete silence depending on where you are being held. Sometimes you are sitting outdoors in the varying weather conditions. In any event, there is no reasonable expectation of being able to do anything on any given day but wait. On this set our ears would be tuned to hear the familiar "Second Team!" , which meant M would quickly get himself to the scene for directions. "Rolling" or "Quiet on the set" meant not a sound until you hear "Cut". 

We learned all the lingo  and enjoyed the perks of the kraft truck and on many days there was time to enjoy the surroundings. Toronto gave us a chance to be safely in the night life of the big city.
Elmira gave us a serene and peaceful setting of Amish life, complete with horse and buggies.
We went to Elora Conservation and at lunch break went swimming in the gorge and roamed a bit through the woods. 

For me it was wonderful to see my nervous pre-teen come into his own. Find a place where he was confident, owned his role and was able to step out into independence to a level a few years ago I worried I would never see.  He truly formed bonds with everyone he met.  He found ways to get some school work done.  He would work long , long days and still come home and deliver his newspaper route and help with chores. 

As I write this we are heading into a week of break time. A time to work on a big job I have for my own small business. But also for me a time to reflect on where we are going from here.
There is a month left to taping - at least.  At this point we are going to be in Toronto in studio for the remainder of it. This is a lot of travel time.  As homeschoolers I need to reset our home to ensure the success of our school year. As a small business owner I need to align myself for the busy Christmas season. As a mother I need to invest in my other children who have sacrificed their summer too and all their regular sports and music lessons. As a wife, I need to nurture my husband who has been forced to fill in a gap while maintaining his own hectic shift work schedule.

There is no doubt that our season has come to an end. Thus far the content has been fine but it is a horror film and I am aware that the studio portion will be more than I would endorse. A genre I struggled to even participate in to this point. 

The only remaining thing to do is notify my agent who asked that I reserve my decision to next week. I know she is hoping the break will refresh us. But I am confident that there is only one right choice to make going forward. I know production , and my agent, will be disappointed but ultimately I have six people counting on life returning to it's normal rhythm. 

The official facebook page photo

In a world of technology and pokemon catching I feel so blessed that he applied himself to his studies

In beautiful Elmira at the historical Kissing Bridge

Headed into Toronto in the afternoon

The sun's gone down and we are still on set !

One of the tighter holding areas... Hamilton

The Kraft truck -

Elora Conservation - kids went for a swim during their lunch hour

One of my favourite pictures,  this kid has definitely found his confidence

Heading back to set in the back of the pick up - even the drivers were like an extended family.
Core group of boys that spent the summer together on set. Fabulous kids !

 

Finding Ground

Finding Ground

Just about a year ago I wrote a deeply personal post about being Insecure . At that time I was struggling to gain confidence in my new culinary world. Scared to death of being a little fish in a big pond.

This past year continued with it's own challenges  to overcome. Though I went into this season a little battered , I also went in a little stronger. The things that knocked me off my feet last year were lessons. I'm slowly learning that though God isn't changing everything around me He is equipping me. I say this even on the heels of some more profoundly difficult times for my personal life.

I wrote in my private journal about the therapy I often found in the cooking process. How it was a reminder to me that I could take piles of sugar and flour and make them into something beautiful. And if I can do that with such simple things, surely God can take the "piles" of stuff in my life and make something beautiful of it too. I reflect on this a lot , actually.

With the CCFCC President

One of the things that most scared me was associating myself with professional chefs. I so desperately wanted to be around people who could inspire me and just glean from their experience but I was also paralyzed by the fear that they would not find me worthy enough.

I'm so glad I took the chance. I would not have believed it last year if anyone had told me but I not only joined the Canadian Culinary Federation (CCFCC) but last week,  I attended their annual conference.

They were friendly and welcoming - but taught me quickly that I had to put aside my low self esteem if I was to fit in. I had to be proud of what I do, confident in my skills and training and confident in the way I spoke and held myself.  Yes... who knew - the cure to insecurity would be confidence and assuredness.  Well, fake it 'till you make it , anyway !

I don't know where this year will lead. Many days I still feel a sense of hopelessness.
But I'm learning who I am. And who I am can't be taken from me by my circumstances, other people or even my own state of mind. God is molding me. Preparing me. Creating me into something good.
He takes the stuff in my life that seems random and carefully works it together to make something beautiful.
And every time I cook, I remember.

I wonder, as a ramble, if everyone feels the way I do.
If everyone at some point anyway, stands in the middle of their world and just looks at the rest of life going on. Alone.  Visible, yet invisible. Like you are screaming at the top of your lungs but there's not a sound and people just keep on moving. Wrapped up in their business and their troubles that go unnoticed, too.

Or,  I wonder if I've been standing knee deep in disaster and everyone has always seen that except me. Oblivious to the sinking sand I'm in, clueless that I'm slowly drowning. It's just part of my identity that people aren't even shocked by because it just has always been that way.

It's a strange place. I don't know whether to accept it, fight it, embrace it. My place that is in this world.

I go from choking down anxiety until I literally feel the pain radiate from my heart into my lungs and then through my body - to cautious laughter but never reckless abandon.  I keep it carefully measured. I have found that the very best mask is a smile. Though I'm sure I must look like a fool no one really seems to notice that everything in me is whispering "just die to self".  Because if I can achieve that, if I can really hand myself over, nothing can shake me the way that it does.

It's all too complicated now to unwind. I believe in healing and total restoration on the other side of eternity and I doubt it is worth the effort to even try it here. It is worth it to pursue the eternal. It all just hinges on that, doesn't it ? Which makes us really all equals both here and there. Each of us fighting to survive in a world we don't even belong in to achieve the same reward, the same status, the same glory.

And in that I find my value, my purpose, my freedom.... myself.

Quick & Easy Pie Crust ?

There is a quick and easy pie crust recipe going around on facebook lately. I'm busily setting up my entry as two pies bake in the oven.

I warn you in advance. I am a skeptic. I refuse to use the oil. Instead, I opted to make one with butter and one with coconut oil.

I was taught that the success or failure of a pie pastry depends on how the fat and flour are mixed and how the gluten is developed.

A flaky pie dough is created when you cut the fat into the flour making tiny particles. When the liquid is added the flour absorbs it and develops some gluten. When you roll out the dough, the little bits of fat and moistened flour and flatten and become flakes separated by the layers of fat. Thus it is important to have really cold fat that won't melt when you handle it and why for me, I opt to use a fat that is in a solid form.
Experience tells me that this cannot possibly be a flaky pie dough.

That's ok. Flaky dough is better suited for the top of a pie anyway so I'm crossing my fingers that this will come out as a decent mealy pie dough. Better suited for custard filled pies because it won't absorb much liquid.

So that's the theory lesson on pie dough.

Let's get started.
I made a Cranberry Custard Pie and a Vanilla-Bourbon Pumpkin Pie.

Substitute any fat but keep your proportions the same

Here's your recipe :
Easy Pie Dough


1.5c flour
1/2 tsp salt
2 TBS sugar
1/2c oil
3.5 TBS milk

Mix ingredients in pie plate (fork & fingers).Pat and press out into the pie plate. If no filling is added , prick crust with fork.
Bake 375, 15 minutes

Work fat into flour , try not to over handle it !

Press down into pan

Vent it by pricking it with a fork

Cranberry Custard Pie ingredients

Want to make the Cranberry Custard Pie ?

Pulse in blender or chop up 12 ounces of cranberries and add 3/4c sugar and lemon zest.
Spread mixture into cooled crust - I used the coconut oil crust for this one.

Whisk together 2 eggs, 2/3c heavy cream, 1/4c sugar and pour over top.

Bake until set, about 45 minutes.

Pour in the custard !

Here are the Results 

Not thrilled with the filling itself but of the two pie crusts this one had a more pleasant flavour. A mealy dough which tasted more like shortbread than pastry. Non offensive but missed the mark.

This cranberry custard was delicious and the only reason I just kept on eating. The texture was inconsistent and it didn't even hold it's shape. It had a terrible mouth feel as a result and I wouldn't recommend using coconut oil with this recipe if you decide to use it for convenience.

Overall , I did not like the recipe. If I were going to simplify my life with a one dish , press in , easy crust, I would go with a graham crust.

Let me know if you have better luck !