granola sunday

Last weekend I returned from a trip to my hometown, Vernon, British Columbia, to my lovely adopted family keen to make granola. Although I’m more inclined to gobble down cereal and milk than sweet granola and yogurt, I couldn’t resist getting in on homemade baking.

I also couldn’t resist staying up until 1AM creating this video.

So, if you want to see the chihuahua tricks, or if Natalie has inspired you to wear neon, or if you want David’s enthusiasm all over your granola, or if you want to know more about Rebar and their cookbook – for goodness sake, leave a comment.

CBC with folks, crepes with Sam

It’s been raining all day. The Folk Fest was full of happy hippy Vancouverites. Like ducks in water. My gig as an Ambassador for our national broadcaster was very easy. Like singing with the choir. No preaching required.

What better, after a day of sharing griefs about federal budgets and smiles about programming, than to enjoy some crepes with my sister?

First we started with the savoury: sautéed mushrooms and zucchini with cottage cheese (me) or garlic Harvarti (Sam). Matched with a wee glass of Sleemans and a green salad.

Second round was dessert: caramelized bananas, nectarine and strawberries. What wonders a bit of real butter does! We split the last pancake, dolloped on creme fraiche, and sipped it all away with citrus mint tea from Davids Tea.

Digest and blog. Happy Saturday!

my october sisters

I have two siblings. Two sisters. Two birthdays in October. One at the beginning and one at the end. With Thanksgiving in between and Halloween to cap off the month, and all the colours enveloping me from tree branches above and acorns below…these are reasons I couldn’t before articulate for why this is my favourite time of year.

Meghan is 22 this year. My Libra. More level-headed then I, keeping emotions just far enough away from the practical to be thorough and kind, she has become a rock to my wavering. Even those pigtails were well-balanced.

Samantha is just 17 months younger than I. To tell which of us looks the eldest isn’t so easy. My sister is bold and determined. We have worked for each others’ respect and I am proud to be her friend. She can make me laugh unlike anyone else.

To my sisters: I love you.

The Army Cot

My Opa’s family immigrated to Canada soon after World War II. Having been forced to move during the restructuring of what was German-occupied land and is now American-freed Austria, “Germans” like my grandfather decided to make a complete change. Times weren’t easy (I’ve been told, reminded, and humbled several times) and belongings were few. This here cot is one relic that found its way into the hands of my Opa’s mother.

An American company name, “The Telescope Folding Furn. Co.” is stamped in yellow ink on the heavy wood beam, slightly covered by the faded fatigue green. I’m going to assume that when the Americans went home, they didn’t bother bringing their beastly, 50+ lb bedding. I mean, c’mon, the hinges are made of the heaviest metal and I’m certain the frame is solid wood. I can’t imagine carrying this thing around on my back in addition to the rest of my kit!

Anyway, I’m told that it doubled as a sofa during my Opa’s European childhood and Canadian youth.

When my own parents made the move from their birth province of Ontario to British Columbia in 1990, the cot-cum-sofa came too! One of the frame’s pieces got lost during the journey so my Handy Dad fashioned one out of a hockey stick!

My sisters and I each have our own memories of having to sleep on that cot while our rooms were painted many a summer. When friends slept over, we would proudly tell them about the fateful sleep they’d soon endure on “The Army Cot”. Firm but strangely comfortable. I wonder what the soldiers thought of it.

It’s doubtful the American soldiers slept in warm kitchens or had down-feather douvees to curl under every night but, as I re-discovered this weekend while lending my double bed to visitors, canvas ain’t so bad.