HA.
Two MONTHS later perhaps - but not before I slogged through the DMV phone tree and Byzantine online appointment scheduler, set something up for tomorrow at 9:50 am, canceled an existing appointment I had (nothing major at least), and was all set to go, loaded for bear as to their lackadaisical service policies.
You'll just never guess what showed up in the mail today.
]]>My grandmother made a lot of date squares.
My dad loves date squares.
Frankly, I love date squares.
Had dates in the house, think, oh, date squares.
I had no date square recipe
Isn't that bizarre? For the record, I do have a butter tart recipe at least, so I've got one of the iconic Canadian desserts covered. I don't like Nanaimo bars, for the other record.
]]>Cryptic time over. We are discussing going to Toronto (with a short side trip to Montreal) over U.S. Thanksgiving; we've often enjoyed going up to British Columbia during a holiday that is not a holiday, plus Gene could have some face time with the Toronto sales guy, plus it would be visiting grandparents and aunt, plus I haven't been back to my hometown for four years. Which, weird. It didn't bother me particularly until this past summer, when I started thinking about all the fun things I'd like to show my girls about my city, nostalgia abounds, etc.
At any rate, I am beginning to realize that a lot of the fun summer things will not be available as fun winter (late fall) things, because shit closes up in September in Canada. No Centre Island, no Ontario Place, no picnics in High Park. This is not a problem in Northern California. Nothing ever closes - why would it? I had that initial moment of "oh, well, hell" before thinking, on the other hand, what sort of fun autumnal and chilly things could we do that we can't do here, pretty much ever, or at least not with any degree of authenticity?
Well. Riverdale Farm is fun any time of the year, but warm cider afterward only underscores the 19th century Ontario experience. St Lawrence Market is nice during the spring and summer, but stepping into a warm and tasty-smelling covered market from the brisk outdoors and going to find a peameal bacon sandwich is a distinct pleasure. Maple leaves, on the ground. We'll miss the Santa Claus parade, but Christmas decorations will start going up. Maybe there will even be snow! I miss mittens, sometimes. I miss the lovely feeling of coming in from November or December and thawing out somewhere bright and warm and busy (this is where I do have to insert my dad's comment that "It's Canada. The heat goes on October 1, even if it's 90 degrees outside". He needs his own Twitter feed).
On the other other hand, I will be glad to only have to argue/cajole/manipulate coats and hats on a 3 year old for a short period of time. I do not know how parents do it for 6+ months.
]]>Although. Because it's Northern California, you can also get samosas, Thai curry, fresh watermelon juice, organic kettle corn AND cotton candy, and vegan mango lassi with coconut milk. I had the latter. I admit it.
Smelly farm animals are endlessly fun, even when they are passed out and farting/snortling/gobbling/honking/bawkbawkbakawing.
Pony rides = big hit with both girls.
Kiddie rides = not such a hit with Peabo.
Merry-go-round = big hit with both girls.
4-H exhibits and produce entries = eternally charming, if a little anachronistic for our area. Who knew San Carlos had a 4-H club?
Extremely kind man in an Oklahoma Football tshirt who gave his three stuffed animals to Peabo, Bean, and Kewpie Doll, our friends' toddler. Why? Because. He and his wife/GF didn't have kids, and he just saw kids and handed them out. We have named the bear Sooner, but I am going to avoid telling the Texan side of my family.
Funnel cake, fried artichoke hearts, and grilled corn = quintessential California fair food, and it now tastes like home.
]]>It amazes me that that little family of three landed in Halifax (and continued ON to Vancouver) with $170 among them (which frankly, in 1920, wasn't that shabby, I'll admit), no higher education until my grandfather made it to university after Normal School, straightforward working class, and yet...here I am in graduate school like it's a normal thing. My father taught university. I'm fairly well traveled, and can even understand things like other languages and music and art and to a somewhat lesser degree the sciences. Like it's no big deal. The great-grandfather who moved his family halfway around the world with less than $200 had to drop out of school after 8th grade to help support his family, but chose to go to evening school. As a teenager. What sort of teenager actually CHOOSES to go to school?
And I realize that I have had other advantages based on race or socio-economic status that other descendants of immigrants have not, but at the same time, I think it still points out the comparative collective freedom we have here (and by here, I really do mean North America) to not necessarily be confined to whence we came.
Is this a sappy and sentimental post? Yup. But I'm going to post it anyway. Happy Independence Day, y'all.
]]>I can't tell if this is the same old bullshit, or some weird positive. I mean, think about it. The lunatics don't want gays in the military, or around at all. And yet...they want them essentially out of harm's way. There may be something to this...*
Lt. Dan Choi
*Obviously I am being somewhat facetious, but seriously. Think about it.
]]>It's a short but interesting article, though I wonder if anyone else had the same thought I did within the first paragraph or two, namely, isn't extrapolating extermination of a large group based on one jawbone a wee bit...well...bad science? What struck me was that, yes, this point of view was indeed expressed down at the end of the article, but it also got me thinking about the paradox of news reporting. On the one hand, it's supposed to be 'just the facts, ma'am', right? But, on the other...you want people to read YOUR story, not another one. Thus, you need a great hook at the beginning. Fair enough. But then I wonder - how many times does a reader just skim the start of the article and think "ZOMG! CANNIBALS!", and never get to the end of things and be reminded that this is just a *theory*, and a controversial one at that.
Too much pondering on one cup of coffee.
]]>Airbus380 Dubai-Toronto (Emirates)
It doesn't look as massive during landing...and then it turns into the gate area, and your jaw drops. My two favorite parts are a) the plane getting sprayed with ... well, I guess it's not really champagne, although I'd like to think it is, because that would just be so un-Canadian and wasteful and b) the pilot, who is quintessentially Canadian (of a calm, pilotish nature, of course).
I hate flying, but I am always deeply impressed by the design of these things, and love to watch them at the airport.
**In passing - this is is no way meant as a foil, comment, or any other complement to the Air France 447 tragedy that recently occurred**
]]>On the other hand, with the warm weather ramping up (though maybe not actually IN Toronto, according to friends and family still on the ground), I'm having regular moments of wanting to show my girls how fun summer in a walkable, tree-lined city can be. I miss corner stores where you can buy freezies and orangsicles. I miss Greg's Ice Cream. I miss gelato in Little Italy, and drinks on pub patios. I miss it still being hot at 9 pm. I miss the cool darkness of the Royal Ontario Museum. I miss taking the ferry to Toronto Island and tangling with Canada geese. I miss Caravan. I miss Chinese food at 3 am after Coffee Crisp martinis. I miss the parks. I miss the parks SO MUCH. I miss riding the subway. I miss the grottiness of the Ex. I miss walking to the library every weekend. I miss pierogi. I miss Greek food. I miss Ontario Place (though it's apparently changed a ton). I miss the boardwalks.
Sigh. Fair enough. I miss Toronto.
]]>All I could think was, "Young lady, you are going to HAVE to speak up!"
Sigh.
*We did, for the record, have a nice conversation about the program after I recovered enough to joke about my lack of caffeine*
]]>"You have an 89-year-old man with various physical ailments, and you have eight guys from [Immigrations and Customs Enforcement] trying to stuff him into a wheelchair to send him to Germany. This looks like something taking place in Germany and not in the United States."
Ummmm....yes, that's *rather the point*, isn't it, Poindexter? Methinks someone slept through the "World War II" part of history class. Jerk.
]]>Is Artisanal, Handmade Food Always Better?
His point, in a nutshell, is it shouldn't really matter whether something is "handmade" if it tastes like hell. How is that being a serious eater, or how is it a good thing to perpetuate awful food simply because it didn't come out of a FDA approved factory somewhere serious foodies would never dream of going unless at gunpoint.
And before anyone jumps down my throat, a) I haven't had coffee yet but b) my coffee was not pooped out by random jungle creatures but c) that is just fine with me. I love small production deliciousness, but I also love a big old bag of Doritos.
So there.
]]>In case anyone is worried, yes, I was able to extract said barley with little trouble. We had a discussion about what does and does not go in one's ears.
]]>