Darkness and Light

Confession: I'm a bit of a control freak. I've known it for sometime tho I tend to disguise it as being an 'aware parent' - that sounds less obsessive than 'control freak'. Call it what you will, it's part of me and at no time have I been more keenly aware of it than on Philip's and my latest date night. One of his colleagues told him about a place in Kitsilano called Dark Table - you go to this restaurant and eat in the dark - theory being that since you're depriving yourself of the sense of sight that your other senses are heightened. I wasn't excited about it. At all. But I got all sorts of excited in early December when a Groupon for Dark Table came through my email and I bought it thinking, "This is a perfect Christmas gift for Philip - he'll love it!" As soon as I clicked "Buy" I had immediate buyer's remorse - I dismissed it and got to work making clues for him to open Christmas morning - affirming my brilliant gift shared out of my undying love and affection for my husband - I never would have bought it otherwise. It was a hit Christmas morning and Philip was excited.

Life went on. We'd mention occasionally needing to make a reservation before the Groupon expired but we never nailed anything down. And then, something that makes me crazy happened - the bloody Groupon expired. Not willing to let this 'deal' slip away, I humbly called the restaurant and begged forgiveness and asked if they'd be willing to honor the deal if we agreed to come on a Tuesday night (or whatever night's their slowest). Sami kindly agreed and the reservation was set. There was no turning back. Now - lest you think I'm joking - this Dark Table experience really is a thing. They're all over the world - London, Chicago, Vancouver, etc. (www.darktable.ca) and have very admirable goals. I learned that 70% of the visually impaired population is unemployed so this gives them an opportunity to get a job in addition to being able to guide sighted people in a world that's foreign to us. The concept reportedly originated in Switzerland at the home of a blind man who'd blindfold his dinner guests so they would better experience the tastes of the meal. I was fascinated, but leery.

I studied the website - it assured that we'd have the opportunity to allow our eyes to adjust to the darkness before our meal. It also mentioned that we'd have to check our cell phones at the door as they didn't want any light emanating from them during the 'experience'. My blood pressure began to rise. Alas, I love my husband and we were going out - we had a babysitter and I even put on real clothes. The cab dropped us off, we sat on a lovely veranda and were presented the menu. I chose the prawns and citrus risotto, Philip chose the beef tenderloin. Then our server, Dustin, came to retrieve us. We stepped into the foyer, the door closed behind us and it was dark - really dark - the kind of dark where you get poked in the eye because you don't see the finger coming at your face dark. Dustin instructed me to put my hands on his shoulders and Philip followed by placing his hands on my shoulders and we chug-a-chugged our little train to our table. I've not been in a conga line in a very long time, and rest assured, they are intended for at least dimly lit rooms. We were seated and I about broke into a full-on panic attack and immediately engaged in some very stern self talk to keep my head from exploding. I found solace in the tiny glow-in-the-dark hands on Philip's watch that I could occasionally make out as his wrist moved. The last time I was this completely unnerved was when I taught my children how to use the mother of all curse words as we dangled on a chair lift. Dustin then reminded us that our appetizer course was a 'surprise' dish - sweet Lord, was there no end to the stress???

Philip made him promise that he wasn't going to put squid or something equally exotic in front of us - Dustin was a locked safe. He didn't give us even a hint of a hint. The plate arrived and manners flew out the window. I was poking around the plate with my fingers trying to discern what sat before me, praying there was no hidden night-vision camera recording my barbaric approach to the table. We figured out it was a salad - whew. However, do you have any clue how hard it is to eat a salad in complete darkness? We did our best - and decided we were eating a version of caprese - basil/parmesean crouton atop tomatoes and greens with balsamic vinaigrette. Next came our entrees.

At this point it's important to note that I'm not only a control freak, but I'm a daughter of a home economics teacher. Since I can remember, I've been taught the importance of food's presentation because, after all, we 'eat with our eyes' first. It's why I like white dishes - there's no pattern to compete with the food. It's why, when I helped my mom cater, we spent as much time creating the perfect lemon tree centerpiece as we did plating the food for wedding buffets. This, coupled with my preference to eat one item at a time, threw me into a tailspin. I clumsily felt around my plate - trying not to mess up my hands too much - carefully analyzing the circumference of the plate so I knew the space with which I was working. There was not one. single. bite. that didn't include two types of food. Prawn + risotto, prawn + veg, veg + risotto - you get the picture. The food was good - but instead of my taste buds being awakened to the flavors before me, they felt dulled by my constant analysis of geometry - working around the plate in a methodical manner and concentrating on remembering exactly where my water stood so I didn't end up wearing it. My hearing, however, did seem more astute - tho perhaps it was the subject that a table near-ish us was discussing. Their conversation emphasized how frighteningly average my lifestyle is - or it highlighted how, ahem, adventurous (?) their lifestyles are. Regardless, I'm glad I didn't see their faces because if fate had ever made our paths cross again I wouldn't have been able to look them in the eye.

My lovely prawns & citrus risotto

Philip's tenderloin and roasted potatoes - or is this the chocolate mousse? I don't know!?!

Dessert was another 'surprise' dish - turned out to be a very rich chocolate mousse torte. This was, by far, the trickiest course to chase around the plate in the dark. I gave up after 3 or 4 bites - I was exhausted. I'd eaten my entire dinner with my purse still hanging across my body because I didn't know if I'd be able to find it if I put it down. We finished dinner and called for the bill and boarded our shoulder train again to shuffle to the cash register. FINALLY - an 11X17" window of dim light surrounded by black drapes through which we passed our debit card. Dustin came back to guide us on one last shuffle train ride to the door leading outside where we were assaulted by the sunshine and frozen until our eyes adjusted. I could breathe again. We went for a bit of a walk before hailing a cab back home and I chalked our date up to a 'one and done' experience. I have a new appreciation for light and the gift of sight. Likewise, I have a new appreciation for dark and the hope that comes from seeing even the smallest sliver of light. Seems only fitting that my current reading is Barbara Brown Taylor's Learning to Walk in the Dark - it's clear I've got some learning to do.

Ordinary Miracles & Thanks

Turns out my self-imposed deadline to get to a better perspective by Easter worked out just fine. We still have no idea what's in store for our future or where we'll be, but today that's OK. I suppose we're living the esoteric notion we've been taught since childhood - 'you never know what the future holds' - somehow the reality of living it is far different from the cross-stitched tagline. Alas - today it's OK. And the sun is out and I saw all manner of wildlife playing as I walked the seawall this morning and saw lots of daddies with their children on the beach/in the park and mamas pushing prams so my perspective is in a good place today. It's tempered, however, by real life. Seems death is a rather constant figure these days - we've gotten news of more than a few diagnoses of neighbors, friends and children and some of the diagnoses have been accompanied by rather grim prognoses. And there's been grief in our house - for people we hold dear, for folks who don't know us but whose stories compel our family to tears. Perhaps it's observing folks living fully in the wake of their mortality being defined by a disease that has snapped me from my pity party of not knowing what's next for our little family. Most certainly I've returned my focus to gratitude - that always seems to help when times are bleak.

This week, Lydia was in the Spring Concert at our school - the fact there even was a Spring Concert is a big deal. Our music teacher went on leave and we were gifted with two job-sharing music teachers about 2 weeks before spring break (mid/late March). Watching as a parent, I knew the new teachers were outstanding - Henry was learning music history and can now tell us about Mozart, Bach, Aretha Franklin and The Rolling Stones. Since our regular teacher's leave was supposed to end this month, our new teachers worked feverishly to pull off a concert. Here we are - May 5th - they've had right at 2 months to make this happen. And on that night, our primary and intermediate choirs (which were voluntary and used their lunch hour to practice) shared multiple pieces, two classes played/sang "Don't Worry, Be Happy" on ukeleles and our intermediate band played 4 pieces. Seriously. And it was good! The feat is nothing short of amazing - and it seemed to nail exactly where each and every child could find their strengths. Lydia's group (primary choir) sang "Do a Deer" and "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" (and no, I have no idea if I spelled that correctly). One thing's for sure - our daughter is a flat-out ham! It was delightful to see her enjoy herself so much and slightly frightening to see her embrace the spotlight with such fervor.

Our performer

It may seem this story has no point, but it's related - promise. The intermediate choir sang Sarah McLachlan's "Ordinary Miracle" and that one song tied all of these realities together. I cried - I tend to do that when music figures out how to define the emotional bumper cars in my head. Our little community in SC has been offering up prayers for an extraordinary miracle for a way-too-young fighter of leukemia named Lachlan Tannery. It's been heartwarming and heartbreaking to see his story play out (https://www.facebook.com/LachlanFightLikeaTiger - visit the Lachlan McIntosh Tannery Foundation to read his story) and to see our community unite to offer support for a family who's facing a nightmare I wouldn't wish on anyone. And what I've learned is this: Good is in the world. Cancer is a beast. And I don't believe everything happens for a reason anymore. What I do believe is this: we're all a part of this tension-filled, makes-no-sense, ordinary miracle filled world and we need each other to make it through. Because, sometimes hard luck hits and we need people who can let us cuss, let us cry, let us be mad, let us be sad, let us love out loud, and remind us that 'ordinary' miracles are the slices of heaven that keep us going - the ones we have to cling to to remind us that we can be thankful for something. Today, I'm thankful for faith and hope, songs that put words to emotions, for folks who fight with everything in them to defeat the cancer beast, for the joy that radiates from my daughter when she sings, and for teachers that come and breathe new life into programs that could have died. After all, it is resurrection season.

As Sarah McLachlan sings:

When you wake up everyday
Please don't throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
'Cause we are all a part
Of the ordinary miracle

Limbo and Chocolates

I tweeted last week a nod to the famed Forrest Gump - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." No truer words have ever been spoken. You relish days that play out and ignite the sparkle inside when you bite into the caramel and you quietly anticipate going to sleep at the close of days that are a damp cloth like biting into an orange cream. Lately it's been a roller coaster between caramels and orange cream in our world - and I've found myself feeling a bit mired up in the damp cloth days. The muck often seems to build this time of year and, perhaps not coincidentally, seems to echo the notions associated with a pensive, thoughtful Lenten season. This year has been more odd than some in the past and while I typically set out with a path in mind for these posts, today I have no idea where this is going. There's no end game in mind. It's simply obvious to me that there's some disturbance in my soul that's got to work itself out in words on paper and I'm trying to make space for that. I don't know if it's the fact that we've come to the end of a two week break from school, if it's the rain that has decided to return and bring its clouds or if it's the reminders of late that limbo seems to be our new normal. Regardless, there's a wrinkle that I can't quite flatten in my emotional state and I'm trying to work it out.

It's become clear over the years that I'm more and more introverted as I grow older. I've decided that means that I'm increasingly comfortable with being with me - and that's a good thing. Being with people still gives me great joy, don't get me wrong, but my batteries need recharging more regularly these days. The idea of a two-week spring break might just be one of the most wonderful ideas ever. I really loved it and I really loved having Henry and Lydia at home - we have fun together. Last year we traveled and that was ideal. Philip's full-time presence made that spring break nothing short of holy as we had all four of our little family together for days - away from the 'regular'. This year was fun as well - our time was amplified by visits from family and friends, but it was diminished as Philip has been swamped at work and he had to toggle in the tension of being needed at the office and us needing/wanting him at home. It was tougher on him than us, I'm almost certain. Suffice it to say, my extrovert is used up. She's done. She's looking for some alone time and alone time she got today! A piece of me was counting down to 9:05AM this morning with the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning...because as of that moment my children would be delighted to be in their classrooms with friends and I would be headed out of the school for a long, solitary walk around the city. There's a choir of angels at the ready, I'm confident...if you heard them singing, you know why.

These solo walks have become integral to my mental health and I've been without them for almost 17 days - it's time - especially in these days of limbo. It's occurred to me that, in theory, we're more than halfway through our time here - that's weird. Weirder still, we know little about what's next. Most days that's OK, but in these days of extreme extroversion coupled with rain and small living space it's increasingly not OK. I have anxiety about multiple potential outcomes: 1- staying here would be fantastic but would also have implications in terms moving to get another bedroom and the whole very far from family piece would be amplified; 2 - moving back 'home' would be great but I have a hard time wrapping my head around transplanting my new self into my old world - I worry about how I will translate; 3 - going someplace entirely new is exciting but exhausting - provided the new place is someplace we want to go. Any way you slice it, there will be a season of packing and moving for the Marcums in the next 18 or so months. And I hate packing and boxes and moving. But I love adventure. Somehow I've got to re-frame my perspective toward adventure and away from moving.

In considering this limbo-ness, it occurred to me that we've been living in limbo for over 2 years now. Limbo is taxing. Limbo is flimsy. Limbo doesn't do much for your sense of place. It does, however, work wonders on your sense of self. Our identity as a family is better defined than it has ever been - sometimes to a fault because we've gotten comfortable in our self-centered reality. In terms of blood relatives, we're it for each other in this place. That's been enormously powerful in fostering our sense of belonging to one another and looking out for each other. It's allowed us to define family in new ways - and has broadened our understanding of what family means. Conversely, it's also meant our flexibility has decreased a bit - when you aren't juggling extended family personalities and are far removed, you lose a bit of your ability to adapt to people different from you. It's a funny dichotomy - this whole notion that you know no one in a place that's very different and have an emotional outlay in meeting new folks all the while surrounding yourselves with those whom you resonate easily so you become more yourself yet less able to flow among varying personalities. That may make absolutely no sense except in my head, but it's part of the limbo we're in and part of living in the tension created by a big move. I value connection to other people on a deeper level now and simultaneously value independence in a new way. It's flat out weird.

So, what's next? God only knows - literally. Somehow, some way, and hopefully soon, I've got to find a sense of peace with it all because I'm getting tired. And when I'm tired I get grumpy. Grumpy plays out poorly and I don't like myself so much when I'm in these ruts - my kids probably feel likewise. My goal is that by Easter and all of it's celebration of new life, rebirth and hope that my mental mood will embrace the pastel colors popping up and find the sunny side again. All will be well - in my head I know this, but my brain is having a hard time convincing my heart. This life thing is tricky. It's not all Warner Brothers and tidy literary denouements - it's gritty, emotional and sometimes full of orange cream filled chocolates. Here's hoping for a little caramel sparkle one day really soon.

Cousins and Breaks

Two weeks of Spring Break seems long to some, but we extended ours by an extra two days because the Bartels came to Vancouver! We made welcome signs, we baked breakfast casserole, we made lists of what to see/do and we had fun! Here are the photos to prove it...

Arrival Night - wings night at earl's :)

Visiting with the Laughing Statues after a visit to the cupcake store

Sleepyheads snuggling before bedtime

Southerners hit the ice - outside at Grouse Mountain Resort

Silly faces - the true nature of our family...putting on the real smiles to share with others.

Family Tradition - Tigers from birth - thanks Mimi & Papa for the matching shirts!

Great public art+industry collaboration on Granville Island!

See Saw time at Granville Island

Uncle Philip snuggles

Wolverine & Warrior Princess

Some things never change - welcome to Chez Marcum

Good for me, not so good for the blog, I spent the week with Emily and her boys drinking up family time and not taking photos. There are but a mere sampling of what we did together and don't come anywhere near capturing the living and memories we packed into our seven days that seemed to fly. We tubed at Whistler Mountain and saw skiers and snowboarders jump and flip through a ring of fire. We tunneled through a mountain at the one-time largest copper mine in British Columbia. We ate unidentifiable pork at a restaurant and survived. We rushed to find bathrooms in emergency situations and explored through ancient Chinese relics. We looked for stars of favorite television shows and spotted filming locations we'd seen only on screen. We ate gelato, shopped down Robson Street and took the seabus and the skytrain and a city bus and a gondola within an hour of each other. We bumbled through open air markets and enjoyed street performers. All in all, we were family - it felt normal and we picked up where we had left off. And we celebrate that we will see each other in person again sooner than later and that we will forever be connected by blood, commitment, love and life. It's a humbling thing for family to choose to spend their time and money to come and be with us. For this independent woman I find it very humbling - almost overwhelming. May this post serve as public thanks for people everywhere who show up, who love tangibly and in person; life is better with you in it! May you have people like this in your life - all life through and may we all seek to be the people who show up and love in person.

Lunar New Year - Year of the Sheep!

I'm playing catch up as we end our second week of spring break on this very rainy first day of spring. I've learned that new years begin all throughout the year around here and it's kind of nice to think that despite what the annual calendar says there's a beginning to celebrate on an almost monthly basis. Today, in fact, is the observance of the Persian New Year - based on the solar calendar. I learned of this celebration for the first time this year as Lydia's playdate is leaving early to celebrate with her mom. I'll have to look into more festivities around this date next year as we missed the fire celebrations at Ambleside Park this past week. Alas - we made it out to the Lunar New Year festivities in February - commonly known as Chinese New Year - and they were a sight to behold. We walked down the weekend prior to the parade and took in the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Gardens - the gardens are a lovely little oasis in the city and you feel transported to a different time and place when you enter. The kids were given a scavenger hunt of pictures/displays to find as we meandered through the space and we all got into it. We sipped green tea and practiced creating Chinese characters on Buddha boards in the Hall of One Hundred Rivers. We spotted huge koi fish in the pond and found a little sheep in there as well denoting the year into which we would soon be entering. Just outside the paid gardens is a public Chinese garden space with a lovely little gazebo, bamboo garden and a super fun gift shop - to which we've returned no less that 3 times in as many weeks because the kids are enamored with the Chinese zodiac, beautiful textiles, Tibetan jewelry and Chinese paintings on rice paper and silk.

Millennium Gate Entering Chinatown

Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Gardens - http://vancouverchinesegarden.com/ 

Practicing writing Chinese characters on Buddha Boards

Bamboo Forest Adventures

February 22nd marked the culmination of celebrations with the Lunar New Year parade - we walked back down to Chinatown and we were given countless traditional red envelopes filled with gold chocolate coins. We marveled at the red lanterns decorating businesses and streets and the dragons that seemed to serve as watchdogs for all who came to celebrate. The parade was a sensory experience with new sights, smells, sounds. Our constitutions were tested while walking through open-aired markets selling dried shrimp, fish, mushrooms, etc. The smells were earthy and overwhelming but were somehow an integral part of the whole experience. The firecrackers popping repeatedly off the back of pickup trucks ushered in dancers, cymbals, dragons and, believe it or not, bagpipes. The crowds were dense and sightlines tricky. We watched the Mandarin newscasters narrate the parade as groups walked past their set, we received more red envelopes, we lost count of the various depictions of sheep we saw and the numbers of dancing dragons in their shiny costumes and vast amounts of red dappling the streets. It was a party for the senses! And a beautiful, albeit cold, day for it. Had we stood for the entire parade, we think it would have lasted about 2.5 - 3 hours. We saw the whole parade, but did so while walking the parade route as tummies were getting rumbly and there's a history in our house of hunger producing bears that have striking resemblances to our children.

Year of the Sheep! Parade time...

There were literally hundreds of dragons - all unique and beautiful and ornate.

We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed for the lawn of the art gallery where Lydia made a mobile celebrating the Year of the Sheep's arrival and we marveled at the numbers of miniature sheep dotting the lawn. They were even available for purchase. The kids got to make their own dumplings - practicing rolling out the dough and sealing them properly. We made tissue paper snowflakes and Lydia practiced origami. It was a lovely day - we learned together, played together and laughed together. And as the pig, rooster, rat and dragon in this family we wish everyone a Happy Year of the Sheep! Gung Hay Fat Choy! [Best wishes and Congratulations. Have a prosperous and good year.]

These decorated sheep were part of a competition - there were about 30+ that all had different themes. These two were Lydia's favorites.

Making dumplings

Sheep on the gallery lawn

Family Day 2015 - what a difference a year makes...

Having just re-read my Family Day post from last year I must admit that I sure am glad I'm writing this stuff down.  It's amazing how much my mind deletes in a mere 365 days and it's amazing how much living gets packed into those very same days.  Alas - we're here again - yesterday was BC's Family Day and we had a great, albeit very different, day together.  It started slowly with breakfast and then we went down to our new fitness room to put the new equipment to use!  Let it be known that I felt pretty proud of this little chunk of our day - both kids are now old enough to enjoy the spin bike, rowing machine and treadmill and we can do this together!  It's out of the ordinary for us to do 'family workouts' other than walking the city but in keeping with the family theme of the day we pulled it off.  We came back up to the suite and ushered Philip off to work despite it being a holiday - duty called - and we looked up instructions for making a t-shirt quilt.  This was intended to be a fun bonding family experience and an exciting follow up to the massive purge of clothes and toys we had done on Saturday.  Lydia is a budding seamstress and was excited about the opportunity to use our new sewing machine and each of the kids had sorted through t-shirts and chosen a stash for their quilts.  Once we'd wrapped our heads around the project and made a supply list, we were off for lunch with Philip at Subway (a kid favorite in keeping with our earlier fitness focus at our family workout).  It was raining, naturally, but that didn't stop us.  We enjoyed lunch and went to the Adidas store and the American Girl store while Philip headed back to the office. 

It was a good walk - and the rain wasn't too hard - we even put away our umbrellas for a bit and just endured the mist [except for Henry...I left his umbrella in a restaurant last week when, after paying our bill, the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate...but that's another story].  Henry found a pair of socks he'd been dreaming of and bought them with birthday money and I surprised him by buying a second pair for him.  We were happy and our version of Beaver Cleaver life was playing out nicely.  On the way home we stopped at the American Girl store and I got to surprise Lydia by offering her the same budget as I'd allowed for Henry so she could pick out a treasure.  And, as it doesn't often happen, she found something within her budget that required no begging, crying or gnashing of teeth.  It was a great day!  The rain started falling more steadily and we headed home where the kids played Legos and work on the quilts began.

Detour: I began cutting Lydia's t-shirts for the quilt and was making the final snip on the second shirt only to look up at her big blue eyes in time to see them flood with tears and sobbing ensue.  Apparently, he tshirts have far too memories in them to be diced into square under which you can keep cozy.  And they went back into a bag with the promise of waiting to cut anymore until she could see how her brother's quilt turned out first.  It was a full-on meltdown.  About tshirts.  And if I hadn't felt so badly that she was so upset it would have been hard to suppress my laughter about it.  Not to worry, I moved on to cutting out Henry's shirts and then pulled out my secret weapon to salvage the day: I turned on Different Strokes while I began our luxurious, Family Day Dinner.

As a Southerner, it's inborn for me to put love into the food I prepare.  This, coupled with the fact that I enjoy trying different foods and enjoy cooking and think I'm pretty OK about it makes creating special meals fun and expressive for me.  I was excited about being home to cook and earlier in the day the kids were keen on helping...reruns of Arnold and Willis diminished their eagerness to help but I was unscathed.  I got to work - first on the eggless 'Wacky Cake' cupcakes - that were meant to be shared with our kind neighbors who alerted us to a dying car battery last weekend.  They've come to function as family despite no blood relation and we owe them thanks for that - Family Day seemed an appropriate time to do so.  While those baked, I got to work on homemade Naan.  We love Naan and I was going to carry on our family day of fitness with a sumptuous, healthy dinner.  The plan was to top the Naan with spinach, tomatoes and olives tossed in a light olive oil and lemon juice dressing as our entrée.  However, it was 4:45PM and while I knew the Naan dough had to rest for a bit, I had not read the part in the recipe that said it needed to rest for TWO HOURS - 6:45 is well past our dinner time.  This was the first indication my sumptuous dinner was not going to plan. Onward I forged, however.  Wacky Cakes came out of the oven, the dough was covered in a damp cloth and put in a warm place to hang out for a bit and while I pondered how to rescue this rapidly sinking ship, I got to work on our homemade Kale Chips - which turned out to be yummy.  The initial intent was that these would be snacks for lunchboxes this week but as my dough rested I switched gears and dubbed the Kale Chips appetizers and got some orzo on to boil.  The side intended for our leafy green entrée was an orzo, pesto, olive, sundried tomato salad.  It's a lovely dish and the kids like to gobble it up - I learned the last time I made it that the recipe calls for far too much pesto (based on the level of salinity in the dish that had us mainlining water for hours after eating it).  I altered the recipe so it would be 'just so' and had it put together in no time.

What I was going for was traditional Naan - here's the recipe to prove it.

 

The yummy 'all dressed' Kale Chips

 

The lovely orzo salad

 

Things were literally cooking in my kitchen but I had no entrée for my yummy celebration dinner - and I knew that my hungry brood would not be satisfied with roasted kale and pasta salad for dinner.  And then it occurred to me with a sinking feeling - nothing would make them happier than to eat the frozen pizza in our freezer.  Foodie fail.  To make myself feel better, I did doctor up that four cheese square of frozen preservatives with some Italian seasoning and garlic powder and while my intent of a healthy, homemade Family Day Dinner went completely off the rails and only one kid gave a hoot about my Kale Chips, they sat down to dinner and each kid excitedly said, "Yuuummm - frozen pizza!"  And we ate, and we laughed, and I had a side of humble pie followed by a rousing game of Monopoly around our little coffee table.  Family Day had been just that - and my foodie fail got chalked up as a mama win.  As for the Naan - it's probably best that it had to rest for those two hours.  It came out of the oven around 7:30PM - a cross between a biscuit and a pancake without the texture of regular Naan at all.  Nonetheless, the kids asked for it with breakfast this morning and I learned it's better just to buy it from the Indian restaurant across the street than to try to pull it off homemade.  Turns out, it's cheaper and takes a lot less time.  Happy Family Day.

And the hit of the night - our SQUARE frozen pizza...

 

 

Bring on the Thunder!

Lots of folks think we spend the year bundled up in scarves and mittens living here, but the truth is, it's pretty temperate - we haven't even gotten snow this winter.  Sadly, neither has the place that's our default ski hill so we've braved the grey, wet days rarely needing a heavy coat for any purpose other than to stay dry.  South Carolina has been colder [albeit about as wet, from what I understand] than our little corner of the world.

As a child, thunder was intimidating - especially in South Carolina.  In the South we get thunderstorms that bring with them bone rattling, earth shaking thunder complete with jagged lightening strikes and an occasional tornado warning. There have been times we've crammed into interior bathrooms or closets because of harsh weather and one of my college apartment complexes got hit by a tornado that was ushered in with thunder, lightening and hail. [Side note: I wasn't home when that happened...I was at a mall buying shoes riding out the tornado warning...it was eerie to return to complete darkness only lit by fire trucks and ambulances.] Thunder was scary sometimes and there were times I dreaded forecasts that included storms.

Here I sit, though, in Vancouver, British Columbia - no stranger to rain - not at all.  We get lots of rain here - just rain.  And it's a misty rain typically, just enough to warrant an umbrella and make the day seem to move slower - not the blinding gully washers of SC.  But today - ah today - there are THUNDERSTORMS in the forecast and I'm excited!  I haven't heard thunder in 18 months!  I didn't even know I missed thunder until I saw the forecast and my heart jumped a little in anticipation. So here's to you, thunder! I hope you stop to say 'hi' for a bit and conjure a little piece of our southern experience on this opposite side of the country.