cassoulet vs chocolate?

   What wonderful things cross my brain this evening? Tonight was my weekly dinner feast with friends Nancy and David. We had extra bodies tonight, as Sue and Don were exposed to the joy of dining with children (of which they have none and desire none). A yummy cassoulet was our fare, compliments of Sue. She was almost dismayed that the children (three girls 4 1/2, 4 1/2 and 3 years) were not interested in her delicacies. Ha! The other three parents at the table smirked. We have all had more meals than can be counted where food has been snubbed for more reasons than can be imagined. No other reason is needed to not eat than having company to escape with. Only the lure of chocolate or chicken nuggets tempts fickle appetites. We have found ways around this by letting the girls eat after us when we dine at my house. We can enjoy our meal and sip at wine in a civilized manner with adult conversation. The girls either beat a hasty retreat to the basement, where food is either eaten or not, but not witnessed by us, so not as painful. They do sometimes join our table, but I think they enjoy having their own time and space together. It seems to make us all happier. Well worth it. And one night where I am not badgering my children to eat seemingly forever, until I cannot take it any more. I hate hitting the one more bite or two more bites phase, but it seems to be the only thing that will work some nights. Nancy's strategies are to feed the girls sure-fire kiddables like hot dogs or macaroni and cheese, while we get to dine on gastronomical dishes that our children would never eat, like the spicy curry we enjoyed last week. Ahh.

   I think that is what I like best about my Tuesday dinners. I get to be an adult. I get to eat and talk with other adults of like mind. We get to eat food that we like, whether the kids eat or not. We can reminisce about days of yore when we could savour a meal without having to clean up spilled milk or grate our teeth over uneaten food. I can be me and let go of my Mommy reins. Someone else is there to help. Someone else is just plain old there. Whether they serve meals, clean plates or just talk to me. I am not alone. Yes, I am not alone. I like Tuesdays.

Chestnuts roasting over open (oven)

I sit at my kitchen table and watch as my girlies stud clementines.

I decorated a clementine on the weekend with cloves and T was enchanted. She managed to find another clementine hiding in the fridge and demanded that we stuff it full of cloves too. With no more to be found she insisted that we should buy more oranges, so today I made a point of buying some for her. I happen to like them for breakfast, but their thrill at another craft project warms my soul.

They are my inspiration to get in touch with the simple life of days gone by. I even picked up some chestnuts and have some roasting in the oven as I write. This is a task I have never undertaken, but am inspired by Christmas carols on the radio and some crafty blogs I peruse. I may even try my hand at chocolate coated orange rinds for a sweet dessert treat for dinner tomorrow night at a friend's house. Thanks Gardenmama! Wishing you a warm and festive time of year.

and the world spins on tonight

I arise from the dead to face the day gone.
Tears stream tired down long faces.
Water bathes and chocolate hot,
Remedies recommended by little ones
Their sleep songs for tonight.

Twinkle, twinkle little lights
Oh Christmas tree
my companion bright
Wish I may for pillows delight
To guide my dreams all through the night.

Crackleless fire ends my day
Wisdom from babes,
I welcome their say
Kindness in comatose
asleep on my couch.

And the world spins on tonight

Friends and Reflections

   I was happy to hear all the positive feedback from my last post. I write for myself, but do appreciate the fact that others enjoy the written word. I think that we can all look back on special memories from our childhood and smile. I value the fact that baking with my children will be a memory that they too will be able to look back on and smile about. My memories are shared across generations and that is special to me.
   This evening I shall create different memories. These ones I anticipate will be rather fuzzy though. I will be getting together with old co-workers for dinner and laughter at Yuk-Yuks. This has become a tradition, despite the fact that the cast and crew are mostly former employees of said workplace. We all shared a time and space though and appreciated each others company. The food and laughs are welcome in my world and I look forward to hugs from old friends. I dare say that tomorrow I may not be feeling as chipper as today, but I accept my fate. I know I could potentially do something about it (abstain?), but I also know me and the people I will be with. I worked with all men and they like their beer. The laughter just seems to help the bevvies slide down faster than other times. Perhaps I will be savvy and mix in water between adult beverages? Hmmm
   Hopefully you will still see a post tomorrow, but we shall have to wait and see. I expect that my prose will be lacking regardless, but I will have a crooked smile. A smile that says I was wanted and loved and appreciated for being me.

Memory Lane via Cookies

     Chocolate chip cookies. Yummy!

   As promised, cookies were baked this morning. My girlies love to bake and it is a sweet moment to share this love with them. My Grandmother fostered this love in me, as she always baked with my sister and I when we were little. I cherish memories of the delectable smells of freshly baked bread, sugar cookies, thimble cookies, jam jams and so much more. If we were patient, it was a treat to be given a beater or spoon to lick the sweet confections off of them. The bowl was the "icing on the cake", if you will. There was never a fear of  becoming ill from the raw eggs in the batter. I have eaten so much raw batter that I do not worry about it, although the baked cookies are more to my taste now. My children's delighted faces that light up with the promise of their own spoon to lick is a beautiful reminder of my youth. I cannot help but smile and send lovely little "thank yous" through the air to dear Grammy that gave me this gift in the first place.

  

   My Grandfather also comes to my heart and mind, as the baking progresses. I have two of my Grandmothers baking sheets that my Grandfather made. While I have a cupboard full of baking sheets, the two Grandpa made are my favourite. The cookies always come off perfectly and the sheets clean up easily. They look brand new and I know that is a sign of quality. They have seen umpteen number of treats and they will see numerous more if my children have anything to say about it.

   My Grandparents were a special part of my childhood that I hold close and cherish more as my days go on. I appreciate their self-sufficiency in a world they literally built from the ground up. They constructed a house blasted from the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia. Grandpa kept chickens and we gathered eggs by the dozen when we visited. The fowls also graced the soup pot when they were done laying, a fact that bothered my childhood sensibilities. 

   Today I let nothing go to waste and boil chicken carcasses into stock with a nod to Grandma again. A raised garden bed filled their kitchen table and larders with veggies. Raspberries, peas, strawberries and beans were thinned out by my sister and my little hands with glee. The canning process that saw their produce saved for winter serving was something I attempted to recreate this Fall. I aspire to get better at it as the years go by. My modern family thinks I am a little goofy for spending so much time at these menial tasks, but my jams are always accepted by all. Should we slow down and appreciate the gifts that are offered us by Mother Earth and memory? I cannot answer for all, but for myself I know the glee glimpsed on my little girls faces when aprons are pulled out tells me yes. Most definitely yes. 

Thank you Grandma. Thank you Grandpa. Merry Christmas.