I don't often give much thought to age - mine or others. I'm terrible at guessing, too, so please don't ask me to hunch the number of times you've experienced a trip around the sun. I'll be way off and you won't talk to me for weeks. Or months.
I've got this relative, see, who is old. Like really old. She's a great aunt (my dad's father's sister, I think) who lives in Nova Scotia.
In the mail today - among the holiday cards, credit card bills and extended chances to renew useless magazines for up to 60% off - I received a letter from my mom. I love hearing from my mom. We still write letters. Okay, so my parents don't have email. Regardless, mom and I wrote each other letters even when they did have a computer. But letters from my mom aren't the point. What came in the letter was a photo of my dad and his aunt, Chantal, taken this past fall.
Chantal will be 109 years old as of December 31 2009.
The last time I saw her was in 1996, which also was my last visit to Nova Scotia. Aunt Chantal looks smaller, but her face is the same - maybe a few more wrinkles.
In the photo Aunt Chantal is turned toward the camera, but she's looking at my dad out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't talk much anymore; she just answers "oui" when asked questions. And she doesn't move around without help.
The look on her face in this photo would make me believe that it's all an act. She's grinning and biting her finger like she's holding back a big secret. I like to think she has her share of secrets after this many years.
I've had many relatives pass on at an early age, and then there's Aunt Chantal who was born at the turn of the century. Whether it's hereditary, good living, karma or someone spinning a big roulette wheel somewhere doesn't really matter to me.
I want to look like Aunt Chantal does, leaning in and biting her finger to hold back a big secret with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on my face. At any age.
~ Jeannette
(36 revolutions around the sun, and loving every one of them)
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
something wicked this way comes
Maybe it's not entirely wicked, but it's coming. In many places, it's been here since the Halloween candy aisle got heavily stickered with 50% off signs. The festive holidays are upon us. Again. Didn't we just do this around this same time last year? I thought so.
OWS isn't anti-non-denominational-seasonal-celebration. Don't get me wrong; I like an excuse to get fun presents, eat lots and drink silly amounts of boozy substances just as much as the next person. I do want to know whether to wish you a happy *whatever* without insulting you, and I also want to not have to listen to over a thousand versions of the same eight holiday songs... everywhere I go.
It's only for a month (or so), and it's only one month out of twelve. I can survive.
Maybe I've been away from my family for so long I don't get particularly festive; I haven't had a Christmas (there's that word) with my immediate family since 1996. That's a long time. There are now several new faces in the extended family - just on my side alone. And since I got hitched I haven't spent any of those special days with the in-laws, either. I like my mother-in-law, too. She's nice people.
My partner and I have our own traditions now. While living in a larger urban centre we would sleep in, gorge ourselves on chocolate (tradition left over from my childhood where my sister and I would only eat chocolate all day, until dinner), head out for a matinee and then go for Korean hot-pot or BBQ. After a few years we graduated to leaving the city entirely. We started going to Seattle for a few days. That was fun.
The small town we live in now doesn't have anything open on December 25 (not surprising - out of 4,500 people there are over 20 places of worship). We've bought a house, so we've got less disposable income to spend on fancy trips to sparkly Seattle. Our friends here - the few we have - have family elsewhere, so they'll be leaving.
We'll do what we always do: let the day pass, eat chocolate and think about the fact that we're pretty damn lucky to have met one another. Despite all of our perceived barriers, we know we're in the fortunate group. That's worth celebrating just on its own.
Tolerate the holiday carols. Graciously let the person in front of you take the spot in the parking lot that you've been lined up for. Give the bus driver some Toblerone on the eve of the 24th. Call family or friends that you've been meaning to call (but haven't) and tell them they rock your world.
Then, quietly, forgive yourself. For whatever injustices you think you have done to others and for the guilt you may feel for being one of the 'haves' while we live in a country riddled with 'have-nots'.
After all of that is done and over with, get involved. Change your perspective. Remember why you are here and what you want to do with yourself. Don't talk about doing things: write them down, tick them off and do them.
December 25th is one day. If we play our cards right, though - we can make it everyday. I try.
Thank you to everyone who has helped push, pull and drag me into the larger conversation - with myself, and with others. And thanks to you. For reading my words. They're only words, but they're mine to share with you and, until someone reads them, they aren't a whole heck of a lot.
Happy everything, wherever you are.
~Jeannette
OWS isn't anti-non-denominational-seasonal-celebration. Don't get me wrong; I like an excuse to get fun presents, eat lots and drink silly amounts of boozy substances just as much as the next person. I do want to know whether to wish you a happy *whatever* without insulting you, and I also want to not have to listen to over a thousand versions of the same eight holiday songs... everywhere I go.
It's only for a month (or so), and it's only one month out of twelve. I can survive.
Maybe I've been away from my family for so long I don't get particularly festive; I haven't had a Christmas (there's that word) with my immediate family since 1996. That's a long time. There are now several new faces in the extended family - just on my side alone. And since I got hitched I haven't spent any of those special days with the in-laws, either. I like my mother-in-law, too. She's nice people.
My partner and I have our own traditions now. While living in a larger urban centre we would sleep in, gorge ourselves on chocolate (tradition left over from my childhood where my sister and I would only eat chocolate all day, until dinner), head out for a matinee and then go for Korean hot-pot or BBQ. After a few years we graduated to leaving the city entirely. We started going to Seattle for a few days. That was fun.
The small town we live in now doesn't have anything open on December 25 (not surprising - out of 4,500 people there are over 20 places of worship). We've bought a house, so we've got less disposable income to spend on fancy trips to sparkly Seattle. Our friends here - the few we have - have family elsewhere, so they'll be leaving.
We'll do what we always do: let the day pass, eat chocolate and think about the fact that we're pretty damn lucky to have met one another. Despite all of our perceived barriers, we know we're in the fortunate group. That's worth celebrating just on its own.
Tolerate the holiday carols. Graciously let the person in front of you take the spot in the parking lot that you've been lined up for. Give the bus driver some Toblerone on the eve of the 24th. Call family or friends that you've been meaning to call (but haven't) and tell them they rock your world.
Then, quietly, forgive yourself. For whatever injustices you think you have done to others and for the guilt you may feel for being one of the 'haves' while we live in a country riddled with 'have-nots'.
After all of that is done and over with, get involved. Change your perspective. Remember why you are here and what you want to do with yourself. Don't talk about doing things: write them down, tick them off and do them.
December 25th is one day. If we play our cards right, though - we can make it everyday. I try.
Thank you to everyone who has helped push, pull and drag me into the larger conversation - with myself, and with others. And thanks to you. For reading my words. They're only words, but they're mine to share with you and, until someone reads them, they aren't a whole heck of a lot.
Happy everything, wherever you are.
~Jeannette
Saturday, December 5, 2009
a night with local lounge & township7
At the start of a week there's nothing more exciting than thinking of all the possibilities for the days stretched out ahead of you. As someone who still needs a traditional 9-5 gig on weekdays (hopefully not for long), my time to shine is evenings - and weekends.
During these times, I covet. Things. Events. Food. Wine, too.
Last Sunday I crossed a distinct finish line: I had pledged to write a novel (minimum 50,000 words) in the month of November (30 days). After a challenging month I crossed my finish line on Sunday, November 29 at 9:16pm pacific time...well above the minimum word count. But the challenge for me wasn't the number of words - it was getting the darn thing done. And I did. So I decided we needed to celebrate.
I started to plan.
Friday, December 4 was going to be the eve of celebration. My husband and I extended the invite to include a couple of friends. The more the merrier.
What was I to covet? Two things: a dinner at Local Lounge & Grille and a bottle of Township7 2007 Merlot / Cabernet Sauvignon. Yum.
I thought about Friday night all week. My husband was almost salivating at the thought of a juicy, perfect chuck burger. Our heads swam with thoughts of sensory delights. It was a great week to live through. The before part - the coveting - was almost as good as the event. Almost.
Our server - Goldie - was attentive, personable and engaging. Owner Cam stopped by for a chat, which made us feel welcome and appreciated. We ordered some wine and beer (great selections of both, by the way) and spent some time with the menu before deciding. It was a tough decision, as always.
My friends - and hubby - indulged in what has been described as the best restaurant burger. Ever. That's a serious claim, but it holds true each visit we make. Made with ground chuck and topped with honey dijon, yellow (seasonal) beets and whatever ridiculously good seasoning the chef uses, the burger is stacked, dripping and magnificent.
I upped the ante and ordered the salmon with risotto. I don't know how many words there are for perfection but I'll have to start researching now. Slightly seared outside and melt-in-your-mouth soft in the middle, my salmon was just the right combination of textures and flavour. As for the risotto...well...words can't describe.
By the end of the meal we were sufficiently sated so we headed out - after a tour of the newly opened lounge, which was beautifully appointed and had a great energy. Four of our original five convened in an apartment in Penticton to relax and share a bottle of Township7 2007 Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon.
The wine was, well, dangerously drinkable. I'm consistently happy with each Township7 bottle I drink. My predilection is for full reds and this winery does not disappoint. There was a party in my glass, and I was invited.
The wine smelled like fall hikes I'd take in the forests back in Ontario. It was a ritual that my mom and I had: each fall we would find the first day that showed an edge to the air - the kind of day with bright sunlight and red-tipped noses - and we would go to a local conservation area to walk the trails, collect leaves and talk about anything.
By the time my glass was half finished I was immersed in one of those hikes. I felt warm, close to the earth and the crisp air. The wine captured a feeling of being outdoors on a fall afternoon, skin slightly warmed by the last intense rays of a waning sun. I could close my eyes and hear the leaves crunch under my feet.
My glass drained far too quickly. Like I said - dangerously drinkable.
Take a walk with this easy drinker. You'll be amazed where you end up.
~Jeannette
During these times, I covet. Things. Events. Food. Wine, too.
Last Sunday I crossed a distinct finish line: I had pledged to write a novel (minimum 50,000 words) in the month of November (30 days). After a challenging month I crossed my finish line on Sunday, November 29 at 9:16pm pacific time...well above the minimum word count. But the challenge for me wasn't the number of words - it was getting the darn thing done. And I did. So I decided we needed to celebrate.
I started to plan.
Friday, December 4 was going to be the eve of celebration. My husband and I extended the invite to include a couple of friends. The more the merrier.
What was I to covet? Two things: a dinner at Local Lounge & Grille and a bottle of Township7 2007 Merlot / Cabernet Sauvignon. Yum.
I thought about Friday night all week. My husband was almost salivating at the thought of a juicy, perfect chuck burger. Our heads swam with thoughts of sensory delights. It was a great week to live through. The before part - the coveting - was almost as good as the event. Almost.
Our server - Goldie - was attentive, personable and engaging. Owner Cam stopped by for a chat, which made us feel welcome and appreciated. We ordered some wine and beer (great selections of both, by the way) and spent some time with the menu before deciding. It was a tough decision, as always.
My friends - and hubby - indulged in what has been described as the best restaurant burger. Ever. That's a serious claim, but it holds true each visit we make. Made with ground chuck and topped with honey dijon, yellow (seasonal) beets and whatever ridiculously good seasoning the chef uses, the burger is stacked, dripping and magnificent.
I upped the ante and ordered the salmon with risotto. I don't know how many words there are for perfection but I'll have to start researching now. Slightly seared outside and melt-in-your-mouth soft in the middle, my salmon was just the right combination of textures and flavour. As for the risotto...well...words can't describe.
By the end of the meal we were sufficiently sated so we headed out - after a tour of the newly opened lounge, which was beautifully appointed and had a great energy. Four of our original five convened in an apartment in Penticton to relax and share a bottle of Township7 2007 Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon.
The wine was, well, dangerously drinkable. I'm consistently happy with each Township7 bottle I drink. My predilection is for full reds and this winery does not disappoint. There was a party in my glass, and I was invited.
The wine smelled like fall hikes I'd take in the forests back in Ontario. It was a ritual that my mom and I had: each fall we would find the first day that showed an edge to the air - the kind of day with bright sunlight and red-tipped noses - and we would go to a local conservation area to walk the trails, collect leaves and talk about anything.
By the time my glass was half finished I was immersed in one of those hikes. I felt warm, close to the earth and the crisp air. The wine captured a feeling of being outdoors on a fall afternoon, skin slightly warmed by the last intense rays of a waning sun. I could close my eyes and hear the leaves crunch under my feet.
My glass drained far too quickly. Like I said - dangerously drinkable.
Take a walk with this easy drinker. You'll be amazed where you end up.
~Jeannette
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