Category Archives: Food

I’ve got the power!

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I know what you’ve all been wondering: How did Nicole survive the Great Power Outage of 2016? Did she have to resort to grinding her own seed wheat in a handheld coffee grinder? Did she have to feed hand-twisted hay sticks into her fireplace just to keep warm? Did she play a song on her fiddle to keep her spirits up?

Answer: none of the above. Her coffee grinder is electric, her fireplace is gas and the pilot light has been unlit since 2005, and she has no fiddle, nor does she know how to play one.

I will tell you this, while switching back into the first person, that a power outage is not all that bad when you know it’s coming. First thing in the morning, I cranked the heat up from its usual 19 degrees to 23 so that by the time I left to take the kids to school, I was sweating. By the time the power went back on the temperature had only dipped to 18, so I call that a win. I spent most of the day running errands, walking the dog, and taking Mark to the orthodontist, so I wasn’t stuck in my dark and cooling-down house all day. My friend Janet (HI JANET) had tipped me off that Jugo Juice makes kale smoothies so I didn’t even have to go without.

The kids and I had lunch at the food court, where I had my smoothie and they enjoyed chicken fingers and fries, and I spent some time surreptitiously eavesdropping on the many teenage conversations around me. I forgot that the mall is essentially a teen hangout, especially at lunch and especially at a mall that is across the street from a high school and two junior highs. MY WORD THE DRAMA. Dylannnnn did you get me a doughnut? Fuck you, Dylannnnn kiss my asssssss I wanted a doughnuttttt. No, I think she still likes you, she’s just mad that you were talking to Jaden. Ugghhhhhh he’s so GROSS don’t talk with your MOUTH FULL GODDDDDD.

The power went back on half an hour before it was scheduled to, which was nice, since the backup battery of the carbon monoxide detector had died and the beeping was making me feel like I was going to lose my mind. I couldn’t figure out how to stop it, so basically every time it went off Barkley and I looked at each other, distressed. But the power was restored before I had completely descended into insanity, so all’s well that ends well.

I was a little worried that all was not well, though; as I was preparing to go to the School Council/ Parent Association meeting – that I was NOT chairing, thank you god – Jake called from downstairs saying that the computer wouldn’t turn on. And it was true; the power bar was plugged in, everything else was working, but the desk top – on which ALL my work, photos, writing, etc., was saved – was not turning on. Nothing, no sound, no fan, nothing.

Cue panic attack.

I called a computer repair company and told the technician my story. He thought it could be a damaged power supply – despite my surge protector – or possibly a fried motherboard. MOTHERFUCKER. I made an appointment with him and then did some deep breathing to calm down. Less than one hour later, the computer magically turned on. I felt like Cousin Eddie: “It’s the damnedest thing. She falls in a well, eyes go cross. A mule kicks her, they go back to normal. I don’t know.” I had to cancel the appointment, citing the “suddenly working and everything’s fine” thing, feeling slightly like I’m a drama queen who just made up a computer issue for fun.

I’m no Ma Ingalls, I’ll tell you that much. But if Ma Ingalls had electricity and access to small appliances, she’d probably love this:

icecream

Ice cream!

It all started when we were at a Ukrainian Christmas celebration, and our hostess had made her own ice cream. She pointed out that most “ice cream” is now called “frozen dessert,” and one thing led to another and suddenly my husband ordered me this beauty. I’m especially excited since non-dairy ice cream is ridiculously expensive, and now I can make my own! Today I’m making a classic vanilla for the boys, as a test run. The only issue here is that my family is ridiculously spoiled. I know, I know, pot and kettle, yada yada yada. BUT THEY ARE. Since I make so many things from scratch they won’t even eat certain store bought items. Case in point: a few weeks ago I bought some hummus.

Husband: What is this hummus?

Me: I bought it at Costco.

Husband: It’s terrible!

Me: It’s not bad. I’m eating it.

Husband: Ugh, I can’t eat this stuff. It’s terrible. It’s SWEET or something.

Mark, grabbing a pita, completely oblivious to the conversation: Mom, where’s the hummus?

Me: It’s right there.

Mark: Ew. I don’t want that. Where’s YOUR hummus?

They proceeded to eat their pitas completely dry, rather than eat the non-homemade-hummus.

Do you see where I’m going with this? It’s a slippery slope, but fortunately making one’s own ice cream is a pretty fun slippery slope to be on.

May all your blues be Monday. Or something.

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It’s Blue Monday! Mercury’s in retrograde, it’s January, and today has been calculated to be the most depressing day of the year. Maybe no one should communicate at all today, JUST IN CASE.

Well, blue is my favourite colour, and even if the algorithm has calculated it to be the saddest day of 2016, this morning the sun came out and the sky is gloriously blue. It looks just beautiful against the snow, and the temperatures are warming up this week. This is great news because in my panic last week, I didn’t realize that the seven-hour power outage is scheduled for THIS Wednesday, instead of LAST Wednesday. Good news: I will have had a week to prepare. Bad news: I will have had a week to fret, because what if they make a mistake and the power NEVER comes back on? Then what? I’ll never have a decent smoothie again, that’s what!

Oh, speaking of smoothies and related vegetables, I have a piece up at YMC about the high price of cauliflower. You know, no one wants to talk macroeconomics, but everyone wants to talk about cauliflower. Well, I tell you, they’ll pry those tiny $8 cauliflowers out of my cold dead hands before I give them up. My grandmother is probably turning in her grave, but a) I almost never go to Starbucks, b) I almost never eat out, c) we almost never have take-out, d) I WILL ENJOY MY EXPENSIVE CAULIFLOWER LIKE THE PRINCESS THAT I AM.

Gosh, we’ve become a spoiled, entitled society, haven’t we? Oh my god, the kale is like, not crisp at all. Ugh, what a rip-off. I feel like Louis C.K. but with vegetables. Let’s partake in the miracle of January avocados. We can have anything we want to eat at any time, we just have to pay for it. Sorry! But it’s true. There’s a trade-off for everything and in this case, it’s dolla dolla for your caula caula.

Not that I want to start living out the winter with nothing but sauerkraut the occasional piece of dried fruit like I’m a heroine in a Little House on the Prairie-esque drama, but I think you can see what I’m getting at.

In non-vegetable-related news, last Friday I chaperoned the last day of Mark’s field trip, and it was really fun. The kids learned all about stage fighting, so if anyone needs someone to be fake-choked, I am your Huckleberry. Related to this, the class is doing a unit on Greek mythology, so Mark is in his element. Next week they are having a fashion show, narrated in French, and Mark is dressing up in Greek fashion. This means that a few hours this weekend was devoted to the making of a cardboard-and-duct-tape sword and shield, along with a toga. I helped him make a toga out of an old sheet, and wondered if these skills would be used again some time down the road. Toga party!

Last week Barkley had a vet check-up and shots, and I will tell you this: I live in dread of the pet scale. Barkley likes his food, and at the vet clinic entrance is a huge poster that shows the decline in life expectancy for pets that are too fat. I try to watch his food, and buy low calorie dog treats, but he is what we might call curvy. I nervously had him sit on the scale…and he’s lost three pounds since last year! Three pounds! I practically did the Snoopy dance right there in the waiting room. He’s svelte! Or, as the vet says, “Still quite plump.”

Well then. He also needs dental scaling and that, along with my meeting this afternoon with the orthodontist to discuss Mark’s braces, is going to lead to financial wreck and ruin. Not really, but I might have to cut back on the cauliflower. Do me a favour: if I start jonesing for roast cauliflower, someone throw me a box of spinach or some other veggie methadone. xo

Panic at the (Electricity-Free) Disco

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Here I was, calmly going about my day, when I heard someone drop something in the mailbox. Hmmm…the mail is early today, I thought, and if my life was a (admittedly very boring) made-for-TV movie, some kind of ominous music would be playing. The soundtrack would then circle to the crazy-sounding, straight-to-the-asylum middle bars of A Day In The Life when I started reading the piece of paper that had been stuck in my mailbox.

People, the electric company is doing maintenance work on a generator in my neighbourhood, and the power is going to be off between 9 and 4 tomorrow. Seven hours with no electricity or heat; for a person who works from home, this is a nightmare on par with the one I have where I’m endlessly folding laundry and then I turn around and there is another, unfolded pile to be done.

Clearly, I would have been a terrible pioneer or settler, because the slightest hardship or inconvenience gives me a Panic At The Disco feeling. How will I make a smoothie tomorrow, I thought worriedly, like the spoiled princess that I am. Why couldn’t this happen during book fair, I thought, as if maybe the electric company was doing this strictly to inconvenience me.

Oh well. I was very productive today prior to this notice, and I have been utilizing our electrical appliances like crazy. I baked brownies and mini-muffins today, and let me just give a shout-out to my friend and YMC colleague Gwen, over at Delightful Adventures. I had been meaning to try her Vegan Gluten Free Gingerbread Loaf, but with regular gluten-full flour, and today I gave it a go. In addition to changing the flour, I also subbed in brown sugar and grapeseed oil, realized that I didn’t have cloves nor all-spice, and then decided to make it into mini-muffins instead of a loaf. In short, I was like one of those awful recipe commenters who say “This was terrible; I changed everything in the recipe and it didn’t work.” Except, it turned out awesome! I’m sure the original must be delicious too; check out Delightful Adventures if you love recipes and gorgeous food photography.

Like Jake’s class did last month, Mark’s class is on a week-long field trip. Unlike Jake’s class, which toured the Board of Education buildings and got to do thrilling things like discuss community collaboration and education funding and sit in on a school board trustee meeting, Mark’s class is actually doing something fun. They are at the Arts Commons, and they are making Greek masks, writing plays, and learning stage-fighting. Methinks Jake’s class got the short end of the stick. Mark’s “partner class” – the one they collaborate with most often – is on a similar field trip, in which they get to focus on Healthy Living. Games, physical activities, and making pizzas is on their agenda, which made me feel even more sorry for Jake’s class. I mean, the highlight for the entire class was seeing the fish tank in the indoor garden. I should point out that these field trips are assigned to the classes, and are not chosen by the teachers or the school – the school board runs them and it is considered a privilege to go. However. Fish tank viewing is not equal to learning to stage fight or making pizza.

Well. Life, as we know, is not always fair, and meanwhile when the power is out tomorrow I think I’ll take Jake out for lunch. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to go to the mall food court for lunch, which has never happened before in the history of his school experience; the mall food court being the epitome of fine dining for a ten-year-old boy.

Speaking of the mall, my mother was in town yesterday and we had a little visit and quick shopping trip. The trip to the mall reminded me why I almost exclusively shop online. People, the Old Navy is a hellhole. A yard sale set up by Mary Ingalls would be better organized. If I took everything out of my drawers and closet and piled it up on my bed, it would look somewhat like the Old Navy displays. It was a bit soul-sucking, but they had a table of boys’ t-shirts advertised for $5 each – discount taken at register! – and my mother chose one for each boy. Do I even need to tell the punch line to this? The discount was NOT taken at the register, and I left feeling like Old Navy Customer Service Has Gone To The Dogs. This $10 in Old Navy Cash feels like blood money, or at least bloody irritation money.

Well, I’m off to prepare for the coming apocalypse/ power outage, and fret that all our food is going to go bad. Fortunately for my comfort, it’s not going to be terribly cold tomorrow. Unfortunately for my food, if the power is off for longer than anticipated, my giant weekend grocery shop will be all for naught.

Rod Stewart performs Sound of Music favourites, and other reasons to live.

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This weekend I got so much done; in addition to all my usual things, I also made sugar cookie dough, gingerbread dough, gingersnaps, banana muffins, and squares. I cleaned the house and we put up the Christmas tree and decorations – no, it’s not too early! – and I was about to finish up addressing my cards when I suddenly started feeling very unwell. I was feeling so unwell that my husband commented on it. Are you okay? Because you don’t look okay. You look terrible.

I’d be insulted if I wasn’t so grateful that he noticed my plight. It turns out that I had suddenly come down with the virus that had the rest of the family down a week earlier: sore throat, tight chest, and fatigue.

Fatigue! Yesterday I felt like I was in a fog; I wandered around the house for five minutes trying to figure out what I needed to do. It turns out, I needed to put a load of laundry in, but the thought process to get there was so taxing I wasn’t sure I could make it. I actually napped, which I never do. Ninety minutes of napping, and then it took me several minutes to figure out how to use my vegetable peeler while I prepped dinner. I was, alarmingly, reminded of Still Alice. It’s just a cold, I’m not coming down with early onset Alzheimer’s…or am I? I thought this over and over until I forgot about it and stared blankly at the sink for a while.

Happily, I feel much better today. I shovelled the snow from the sidewalk and only felt a little bit like dying.

This whole weekend, while I was in festive production mode, I was listening to the Sirius Holly channel, that I mentioned previously. For the most part, it is delightful. I can easily hear multiple renditions of the same song in a three-hour time period, and I will sing along with all of them. I even enjoyed ROD STEWART singing My Favourite Things, which is one of the more bizarre sentences I have written. Me, rolling gingersnap dough in sugar: Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are…hey, this sounds like Rod Stewart. It IS Rod Stewart! That’s weird.

Until this weekend, I would have said that I enjoy all Christmas music immensely, with only one exception: Paul McCartney’s Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime. That song, to me, is the festive equivalent of Might As Well Go For A Soda. I start to twitch like someone is scratching their nails down a chalkboard. Does anyone actually have chalkboards anymore? You know what I mean.

Anyway, I had always thought that was the worst ever Christmas song. I have a very high tolerance – nay, adoration – of cheesy Christmas songs such as Barry Manilow’s White Christmas or Neil Diamond’s Little Drummer Boy. But once that “Simply having…OH GOD MAKE IT STOP” gets in my head, I feel like I need some kind of medication/ alcohol to remedy the situation. However, from listening to Sirius Holly, I have discovered something even worse.

It’s called Christmas Wrapping.

It is the most tuneless song ever with the most insipid lyrics – and this is coming from someone who goes NUTS to hear Last Christmas by Wham! so I know a little something about insipid holiday lyrics – and it is six and a half minutes long. It also is played on Sirius Holly FREQUENTLY.

My weekend with Christmas Wrapping:

Me, the first time I hear it: Is this song still playing? Wow, it’s really long.

Me, the second time I hear it: Oh god, it’s that song again. What the hell is this song?

Me, the third time I hear it: What the hell? Why are they playing this again?

Me, the fourth time I hear it: THAT IS IT. I AM WRITING AN ANGRY LETTER TO SIRIUS. RIGHT AFTER I FINISH THIS GINGERBREAD.

Me, the fifth time I hear it: I’m losing the will to live.

Me, the sixth time I hear it: *changes channel*

So I’m a little slow. Clearly, I should have gone with step six in the first place. But then I might have missed Bruce Springsteen’s Baby Please Come Home, and that would have been tragic.

Maybe Pumpkin Spice Potato Chips really are a thing.

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You know those moments in parenting where you just don’t know how you got here, and you just can’t believe this is happening? I had one of those yesterday when Jake came home from school, completely excited about this cool new game he wants to get called Dungeons and Dragons.

I just don’t know where to go from here.

In other news, did you know it’s almost Halloween? Holy moly, did October speed by. Remember when I said that I was just swimming and swimming until October 18, and after that things would settle down? Hardy har, it seems to me that I forgot about, you know, LIFE. Not that I would say I’m any busier than anyone else – we’re all busy – but let me take this opportunity to say two words: BOOK FAIR. Yes, Book Fair Number Fifteen is rapidly approaching, and although – thank god – I have a co-coordinator who is going to take over one entire day for me, it’s still a bit of a thorn in my side. Yesterday I felt like I had things under control: I had made up a schedule for all twenty-six classes to visit the fair twice over a two-day span – the fair itself is taking place in the staff room, thanks to our overcrowded school situation – and the volunteer spots had started to fill out. Then I had an email from the principal informing me of a little glitch in the schedule that I had been unaware of, and although she immediately offered helpful solutions, I just sat and stared out the window for a few minutes. I could actually feel myself deflate.

But this is my fourth-to-last fair, so I’ve been cheering myself on like an aerobicize instructor from the Eighties: and four more, and three more, and two more…

So here comes November, with the book fair and Christmas shopping to avoid the fiery hell that is the mall in December, and the ordering of Christmas cards, and the baking of many festive treats so that they may be photographed and published asap. Speaking of which, I’m going to digress for a few minutes to tell you to read my Meatless Mummy column over at Yummy Mummy Club, for all your meatless (and decadent holiday baking) needs. I’m also going to point out that I have a joint project with Hannah and Allison, called Throwing It Back, for all your nostalgic-for-the-eighties-and-nineties needs. So if I’m not writing here, I’m over at one or both of those places, writing about chickpeas and rolling your jeans. This ends my public service announcement.

The best thing about November, in my opinion, is that it marks the end of the Reign of Pumpkin Spice. I know, I know. Everyone loves pumpkin spice. Everyone except me, apparently. I know I’m in the minority on this one, and truly, I don’t care that much – let your freak pumpkin spice flag fly, people – but the end of the Reign of Pumpkin Spice marks the beginning of the Reign of Peppermint, which is my favourite thing ever. Bless you, peppermint flavouring.

Is it me, or has the pumpkin spice trend officially gone over the top? Driving back from Sylvan Lake, the orange-hued Kubota dealership outside of Red Deer had a sign saying “We ARE Pumpkin Spice,” which made me laugh, a little. I would have taken a photo had I not been hurtling down the highway. In the grocery store was this display:

PumpkinSpiceOreo

Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve tried mint Oreos and they were pretty amazing, and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t even like Oreos. I’m just wondering if we’ve reached peak pumpkin spice popularity, or if next year Lay’s will come out with Pumpkin Spice Potato Chips, or maybe Pumpkin Spice Doritos. Maybe McDonald’s will come out with a Seasonal Pumpkin Spice McRib. Maybe these things have already happened, I don’t know. As an economist, I kind of want to graph out the trends and the market share of Pumpkin Spice What Have You in September and October, and the growth in popularity over the past few years. Perhaps I should; perhaps I should apply for a grant to study the ubiquity of pumpkin spice and its effect on cancer, or something. There could be a whole correlation-versus-causation debate, like the one currently heating up over bacon and other smoked meats.

MAYBE THIS IS A NOBEL PRIZE-WINNING IDEA.

Speaking of cookies, yesterday I went to make Halloween-shaped sugar cookies for the kids’ classroom parties. While I was in my flurry of travel, a few weeks ago, I decided to make some of my mom’s never-fail sugar cookie dough to throw in the freezer for this exact reason. I was trying to be on the ball, and I would have been, if I hadn’t been so caught up in packing/ unpacking/ trying to fit work in/ etc. I remember clearly throwing together a banana bread for the kids’ snack, and then whipping up a batch of sugar cookie dough. At the time, I thought the dough felt odd, but I thought no more about it, until yesterday, when I rolled out all the shapes and thought the dough seemed rather soft.

I took my first batch of ghosts out of the oven, and they had all spread together to make one giant obese ghost. The pumpkins were just the same. My never-fail dough had failed. In hindsight, I think perhaps I was so busy multitasking that I only added two out of the three required cups of flour. I managed to whip up another batch, which worked perfectly, and the kids were only too happy to eat the batch of flat misshapen cookies. All is well in my world again.

cookie

Zucchini Fest 2015

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Remember in Gone With The Wind, when Scarlett has a recurring dream in which she is running and running through mist and fog, looking for something, something that will make her happy? And then she finds herself actually running through mist and fog and she realizes – finally – that the key to her happiness has been right in front of her this whole time, that Rhett has always loved her and now in a Saint-Paul-On-The-Way-To-Damascus burst of understanding, she loves him too. And then she tells him, that the dream has come true and she knows what she’s looking for, and he’s moved on and is all “I don’t give a damn?”

Ah, to have such dramatic and interpretive dreams. My dreams are so dull that they make Bert from Sesame Street looks like a wild adventurer. About half the time, I dream that I’m folding laundry. Last night I dreamt that I was going through a giant stack of mail, sorting it into piles: recycle, shred, and file. Even in my dreams I’m bored. What this says about me, I don’t know, because I don’t find my life to be particularly dull, but my dream life would make anyone long for pigeons and paperclips, just to vary things a little.

Today is a moon day, so I didn’t practice yoga. Instead, I decided to make today Zucchini Fest 2015 in the Boyhouse. My mother-in-law had given me her usual Excessive Number of Zucchinis, and so I made a quadruple batch of dill pickle zucchini chips (recipe here) and two loaves of double chocolate zucchini loaf (recipe here) and grated and froze 3 cups for later use. I also set aside two more zucchinis for roasting/ grilling on the weekend and that, my friends, will be the end of the Excessive Number of Zucchinis.

After Zucchini Fest 2015, I took Barkley for a very long walk, as part of my Increased Cardiovascular Exercise To Combat My Shrunken Pants regime. While we were walking I noticed a sign in a bus shelter for one of those insurance companies that deals with older people. Usually those signs are kind of cute and deal with things like “were you at Woodstock” or “did you have a beehive hairdo” and state that if so, you qualify for lower insurance rates.

This sign read, IF YOUR “OTHER CAR” HAS A SIREN ON TOP, YOU ARE PAYING TOO MUCH FOR AUTO INSURANCE.

What? At first I wondered if they were catering to first responders or the police, but it was a “grey power” type of company, which leads me to believe, alarmingly, that they are catering to people who RIDE in ambulances on the regular.

Who came up with that advertising campaign? If you keep having heart attacks, call us for your insurance needs. If you are near death, you shouldn’t be paying full price for insurance. I am going to go out on a limb here, and say that if you are nearing the end of a long, full life, maybe you shouldn’t be driving at all. If you have had a lot of ambulance rides because of your advanced age, possibly you should not be behind the wheel. Hey, look on the bright side – that way, your auto insurance will be zero!

I live in a senior heavy neighbourhood, and while I love my elderly neighbours, walking in the Co-Op parking lot is terrifying. I do not even attempt to walk NEAR the giant Cadillacs and Lincolns that MIGHT be backing up, because the drivers seem to be fairly indifferent to things like “shoulder checking” and “looking behind while in reverse.” Eh, those things are just not for me. In my day, we just backed up, and we liked it that way.

Speaking of shopping, yesterday the boys and I went to Costco, and while I was not at all surprised to see the plethora of Halloween costumes and decorations, there were CHRISTMAS TREES AND DECORATIONS ON DISPLAY. I’m all for early shopping and being prepared, but that seems excessive even for me. It’s AUGUST. Sadly, there were no Back to School displays, but I guess I must be a few months late on that. Maybe they do Back to School when school is still in session. All I’m saying is that I’ll be looking forward to Valentines’ chocolates coming out next month.

Just June

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After today, there is only one and a half days left of school, and excitement is mounting! Is it me, or did June fly by? Maybe it’s my life that is flying by and I should just lie down and sing “Cat’s in the Cradle,” “Landslide,” and “Sunrise Sunset” over and over for a while.

The last few weeks of school are pretty hilarious, aren’t they? Everybody’s just mailing it in at this point. Mark’s at a field trip to the zoo today, which is remarkable because it’s sunny and warm. I think this is the first field trip ever that it hasn’t been pouring rain or unseasonably cold or something. Jake’s class has an “in-class” field trip involving Light and Shadows, and I asked if he wanted me to volunteer in the class. He politely suggested that there were more than enough volunteers, and when I said no, the teacher was still looking for some, he said that he’d really rather I not. Well, I’d rather not as well, so I GUESS that worked out.

Jake’s class hasn’t exactly been easy street for the past few weeks though; Jake’s teacher is notorious for keeping the learning going until the bitter end. Mark had her for a teacher a few years ago and it was the same. For example, Mark’s class has watched four movies over the past four days, and has another movie scheduled for tomorrow. Jake had four spelling tests in the past two days. Monday night he came home with six pieces of paper on which he was supposed to write down THIRTY interesting sentences about the research topic they’ve been working on for the past month, and then glue the pieces of paper into a cube, all due the following morning. At first I wondered if he had slacked off in class, but no. It turns out everyone was given this assignment at the end of the day, so the last Monday night of the school year was spent doing this without notes because no one was allowed to bring their notebooks home. I felt a bit indignant; the busy work could have been kept for school time, in my opinion, but Jake was determined to finish strong.

I’m not complaining, mind you. I like the teacher; she’s a no-nonsense kind of lady. But I felt like that project could have been used to fill class time, especially since Jake came home with the cube the very next day. WHAT IS THE POINT.

Hilariously, Jake’s research project was on beavers. My children and their obsession with beavers. Be careful what you google.

Speaking of which, the last couple of weeks have been a learning time in one area: Sex Ed, or, as they call it now, H.S., and there has been some discussion about the horrifying nature of reproduction and the human body. I’ve learned too much.

So we’re all gearing up for summer, and I’m pretty excited about it. I need to remember that the lack of schedule takes a few days for the kids to get used to – Mom, should we do some worksheets? Can we make our own Freezie business? – and that there’s always a lot of emotions on the last day of school. This week has coincided with Ladies’ Holidays, which has made for an interesting couple of days. For example, yesterday I decided to make jam for the first time in my life. Long story short, I way overcooked the raspberries and ended up with raspberry-flavoured cement. I had to remind myself about what I remind the kids, in the yoga way – practice, practice, all is coming – and started over. The second batch turned out perfectly, and Jake had non-cement-like raspberry jam on his peanut-butter toast for breakfast.

jam

Perfection! Happy start-of-summer, everyone! xo