The first time I ever read aloud to a large group - larger than my classroom - was in grade six. Maybe it was grade seven. I can't quite remember.
I know Mr. Luty (yeah, the kids called him loonie Luty - how original) was my grade six teacher, and I can't remember him fitting in with this memory. But Mr. Strongitharm (no one called him any nicknames - he was too cool) was my seventh grade teacher and I'm almost certain it wasn't in his class. Whatever. I was young.
My mom tells the story over and over, to anyone who will listen. I won an award for an essay I wrote on The Diary of Anne Frank, and part of the "reward" was to get up in front of the entire school and read part of the essay. Oh, goodie. It's just what a sixth grader wants to do when she's gangly, entering puberty (late) and taller than everyone in the school except a few teachers.
I've never fit in, and I'm okay with that now. I'm sure it makes for more interesting stories. In the sixth grade I wanted to have graceful movements like Theresa or be good at sports like Renée. But I didn't and I wasn't. Instead, I could write. It's too bad that I didn't get some sort of good eye/hand/foot coordination, because even a writer can use that. Especially a young writer about to climb up the echo-y wooden stairs onto a wide, empty stage in front of a gymnasium packed with kids.
I stubbed my toe, lost my balance and fell. In front of the entire school.
I don't remember much about that day except for that one moment of pure humiliation. I was wearing a brown skirt and white top, and I'm pretty sure my hair was doing its straight-as-a-board thing, except for the flippy ends that didn't flip in unison. Nothing I had or wore was in style, even for the un-stylish era that was known as the very early 80's.
What I like best about this memory is that it's all me - not some watered-down version of me. It's a memory of the gangly, uncoordinated girl that spent lunches in the library and recesses with her one or two friends in the back field picking wild strawberries, trying to avoid being kissed by a kid named Jason - not that I was special; Jason tried to kiss every girl on the playground.
I was me - unaltered and going ahead despite whatever obstacles were in my way, including the obstacles that were my own feet.
I find this writing thing to be a lot like that. Once I get out of the way of my own feet, I'm fine.
I'm going to channel a bit of my mom here and boast a little, like she still does about that essay. OWS has its first writing gig: paid and published. Okay, so it's paid in wine and so it's published online. I'm happy with it. And who wouldn't want to be paid in wine? I live in wine country - moving here wasn't a coincidence.
Maybe I still trip going up the stairs, and maybe I'm still not fashionable or good at sports. But I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm writing.
www.thewinefestivals.com/blog
~ Jeannette
Friday, February 26, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
good local eats
Disclaimer: this is not an advertorial, paid plug or anything else I received any sort of currency for - wine, food or otherwise. Sometimes the stars align just so, and you gotta sit down and give kudos when kudos are due.
I've been to this spot and written about it before. But I'm sure I didn't do it justice then and there's a good chance I won't do it justice now. Unless you have the interactive plug-in feature with smell-o-read. Since that doesn't exist - that I know of - you'll just have to take my word for it on this one.
Local Lounge & Grille in Summerland, BC is the bee's knees, the not-so-hidden gem, the get-my-mouth-watering-just-thinking-about-it place to eat.
There. I said it.
We've had lunch, brunch and dinner cooked by executive chef Paul Cecconi and his team, been greeted by biz guy Cameron Bond and enjoyed the spectacular view of Lake Okanagan from both the Lounge and the Grille. There isn't a bad seat in the place.
This weekend my fella and I took to dining out for the Day Of International Love (otherwise known as Valentine's Day), and when we think of dining out in the Okanagan, we think of Local. So what if we live in Oliver and they're in Summerland? It's worth the drive. Always.
Knowing they book up quickly, I made sure to reserve with Cam in advance. He replied to my hesitant 'hope you still have room for us on the 14th' query with a welcoming 'will give you the best seats in the house'. Considering any seat is the best seat, it wasn't a difficult promise to follow through on. And damn I loved that corner booth.
When you're at Local, you feel like a local. It's a rare night when Cam's not somewhere near the door to welcome you. As the popularity of the joint increases I don't expect him to always be everywhere, all the time. But it's a super nice way to start the visit.
Service is spot-on. It's the perfect combination of make-you-feel-at-home with pamper-you-just-a-bit, and these servers are pros. If you've had exceptional service, you know what I mean. If you haven't, well, you haven't been to Local.
I fell in love with Paul's salmon & risotto, and my fella goes weak at the knees for Paul's ground chuck burger - complete with blue cheese and other yummy toppings. So of course I had to tuck into a perfectly seared wild BC specimen, and of course my fella had to wrangle with that beef. We shared a new salad: baby iceberg, smoked bacon, mushrooms and blue cheese dressing. I'm asking Paul for the recipe. Yum.
The wine selection is stellar. There's great representation from a variety of BC wineries, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a gap in the offerings. I enjoyed a deliciously pretty Pinot Noir from See Ya Later Ranch. Did I say 'yum' yet?
We ended the night with a ridiculously decadent dark chocolate cake (which was so warm I think it was just made, like right after I ordered it), peppermint ice cream and raspberry pipe sauce. Taste bud overload; the party in my mouth hit a whole new level.
And we met Paul, whose culinary creations we salivate over weeks before we get to the restaurant. While I'm a bit sad to say goodbye to the salmon, I'm excited to try the new menu coming out Tuesday Feb 16. Oh, and I want to say thanks to Cam and Paul for holding out on switching the menu until I had that salmon one last time. If the sable fish is anything like your salmon, Paul, I'll be eating it right out of the kitchen. Saves the server a trip to the table.
They're never in a rush. The food's always good. There's a lot of smiling faces, customers and staff alike. Chairs and booths are comfy. It's a good place to be.
Be a Local local. You won't be disappointed. And if you want company, just drop me a line. I'll take any excuse to go back.
~ Jeannette
I've been to this spot and written about it before. But I'm sure I didn't do it justice then and there's a good chance I won't do it justice now. Unless you have the interactive plug-in feature with smell-o-read. Since that doesn't exist - that I know of - you'll just have to take my word for it on this one.
Local Lounge & Grille in Summerland, BC is the bee's knees, the not-so-hidden gem, the get-my-mouth-watering-just-thinking-about-it place to eat.
There. I said it.
We've had lunch, brunch and dinner cooked by executive chef Paul Cecconi and his team, been greeted by biz guy Cameron Bond and enjoyed the spectacular view of Lake Okanagan from both the Lounge and the Grille. There isn't a bad seat in the place.
This weekend my fella and I took to dining out for the Day Of International Love (otherwise known as Valentine's Day), and when we think of dining out in the Okanagan, we think of Local. So what if we live in Oliver and they're in Summerland? It's worth the drive. Always.
Knowing they book up quickly, I made sure to reserve with Cam in advance. He replied to my hesitant 'hope you still have room for us on the 14th' query with a welcoming 'will give you the best seats in the house'. Considering any seat is the best seat, it wasn't a difficult promise to follow through on. And damn I loved that corner booth.
When you're at Local, you feel like a local. It's a rare night when Cam's not somewhere near the door to welcome you. As the popularity of the joint increases I don't expect him to always be everywhere, all the time. But it's a super nice way to start the visit.
Service is spot-on. It's the perfect combination of make-you-feel-at-home with pamper-you-just-a-bit, and these servers are pros. If you've had exceptional service, you know what I mean. If you haven't, well, you haven't been to Local.
I fell in love with Paul's salmon & risotto, and my fella goes weak at the knees for Paul's ground chuck burger - complete with blue cheese and other yummy toppings. So of course I had to tuck into a perfectly seared wild BC specimen, and of course my fella had to wrangle with that beef. We shared a new salad: baby iceberg, smoked bacon, mushrooms and blue cheese dressing. I'm asking Paul for the recipe. Yum.
The wine selection is stellar. There's great representation from a variety of BC wineries, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a gap in the offerings. I enjoyed a deliciously pretty Pinot Noir from See Ya Later Ranch. Did I say 'yum' yet?
We ended the night with a ridiculously decadent dark chocolate cake (which was so warm I think it was just made, like right after I ordered it), peppermint ice cream and raspberry pipe sauce. Taste bud overload; the party in my mouth hit a whole new level.
And we met Paul, whose culinary creations we salivate over weeks before we get to the restaurant. While I'm a bit sad to say goodbye to the salmon, I'm excited to try the new menu coming out Tuesday Feb 16. Oh, and I want to say thanks to Cam and Paul for holding out on switching the menu until I had that salmon one last time. If the sable fish is anything like your salmon, Paul, I'll be eating it right out of the kitchen. Saves the server a trip to the table.
They're never in a rush. The food's always good. There's a lot of smiling faces, customers and staff alike. Chairs and booths are comfy. It's a good place to be.
Be a Local local. You won't be disappointed. And if you want company, just drop me a line. I'll take any excuse to go back.
~ Jeannette
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
5 things to do that don't involve 5 rings
I live 4.5 hours drive away from Vancouver, but I can feel it in the air even here.
It's excitement over the big Olympic stuff - but more palpable is the tension this event has created in our different Canadian communities. I say Canadian because although the games are in British Columbia (and BC taxpayers will be shouldering a burden for a while), let's not forget the feds that have put us collectively on the hook for this dinner bill.
Okay, I'll put my soapbox aside. There are positives and not-so-positives for every super duper expensive thing that our government decides or not decides to do on our behalf. I'm grateful that I can bring my voice forward and have these conversations with people.
Wat about the zillions of people who aren't going to have anything to do with this year's big deal?
If you're not attending the gig with the five big rings, don't fret: this is Canada and we have a lot of nifty stuff going on. The ring games are in BC so I'll keep the details here; just to let everyone know they still have options. However, if you live elsewhere, take the spirit of the list and apply it to your neck of the woods. Your local businesses will love you for it.
drink wine
Oh come on. You should know by now that if it's a to-do list made by me it's going to have something to do with fermentation.
Great wine is closer than you think. It's a local winery, a VQA store, your local liquor store (private or BCL) or your cousin Teresa's basement. It's even available for you to purchase online. And Vinifico does a great job of wine blogging for those computer types. There's also winecountrybc for information on great grapes. Have a glass. It's good for your health.
visit art
Public art galleries, private studios or city graffiti - art is everywhere. And it's significantly underfunded. Yeah, yeah...I know. I won't get on the soapbox again. Promise. But it's true - your local arts and culture organizations are having a tough go financially and they can really use your support. If you don't know where to start, let your fingers do the walking on your keyboard here for tips on finding great local art-type stuff.
But don't take my word for it. Get in touch with your local chamber of commerce to find out where the art stuffs are in your neighbourhood. Go get cultured.
go outside
It's winter. It's Canada. There's a good chance you're a) covered in snow, b) covered in ice, or c) stuck without access to your usual local playgrounds because of a set of five colourful rings.
We're Canadians. We adapt, overcome and do it all with a smile on our faces - and a coffee in hand. Snow hates snowshoes, so go rent some and stomp that snow to smithereens. Ice doesn't like skates, so grab a pair and carve up that surface (or stumble a lot like I do). Walk on the beach, wheel along the sidewalk or head into the woods. Whatever you do, do it outside. Take a bottle of BC wine with you; it won't need a cooler, and with those handy twist-off caps you're all set. Just remember to pack in and pack out.
cook (or eat) something
I'm with the bears when it comes to winter: I hibernate. My personal addition to their winter ritual is that I eat. More.
Winter is the best time to get creative with food. Sure, there's less local fresh produce available (by less I mean nil), but that shouldn't stop you. Go to your favourite snack spot and chat up the chef - chances are he or she has a little more time on their hands right now, but that just means they'll have more time to talk about how and what they love to cook. Have a good meal, made either by yourself, someone you love or someone who you love what they cook. Invite others to join you. Feed.
read more
With Canada Reads and Canada Also Reads practically sitting in our laps, it's time to hit the books. With gusto.
Maybe you're a Kindle fan (I still think it sounds like it's made of chocolate), or maybe you like the feel and smell of pulp and paper. Doesn't matter. There are a ton of ways to join the read action. You can do it at home alone, with friends or in public - and unlike some other fun things, it's completely legal. Get a book and get your read on.
If you're feeling adventurous you can do it all in one day: go for a walk, hit the local art gallery, visit the bookstore and go for dinner with a friend before heading home to curl up under a thick blanket with a glass of wine and that new read.
Overcome, Canadians. Don't let the rings get you down.
~ Jeannette
It's excitement over the big Olympic stuff - but more palpable is the tension this event has created in our different Canadian communities. I say Canadian because although the games are in British Columbia (and BC taxpayers will be shouldering a burden for a while), let's not forget the feds that have put us collectively on the hook for this dinner bill.
Okay, I'll put my soapbox aside. There are positives and not-so-positives for every super duper expensive thing that our government decides or not decides to do on our behalf. I'm grateful that I can bring my voice forward and have these conversations with people.
Wat about the zillions of people who aren't going to have anything to do with this year's big deal?
If you're not attending the gig with the five big rings, don't fret: this is Canada and we have a lot of nifty stuff going on. The ring games are in BC so I'll keep the details here; just to let everyone know they still have options. However, if you live elsewhere, take the spirit of the list and apply it to your neck of the woods. Your local businesses will love you for it.
drink wine
Oh come on. You should know by now that if it's a to-do list made by me it's going to have something to do with fermentation.
Great wine is closer than you think. It's a local winery, a VQA store, your local liquor store (private or BCL) or your cousin Teresa's basement. It's even available for you to purchase online. And Vinifico does a great job of wine blogging for those computer types. There's also winecountrybc for information on great grapes. Have a glass. It's good for your health.
visit art
Public art galleries, private studios or city graffiti - art is everywhere. And it's significantly underfunded. Yeah, yeah...I know. I won't get on the soapbox again. Promise. But it's true - your local arts and culture organizations are having a tough go financially and they can really use your support. If you don't know where to start, let your fingers do the walking on your keyboard here for tips on finding great local art-type stuff.
But don't take my word for it. Get in touch with your local chamber of commerce to find out where the art stuffs are in your neighbourhood. Go get cultured.
go outside
It's winter. It's Canada. There's a good chance you're a) covered in snow, b) covered in ice, or c) stuck without access to your usual local playgrounds because of a set of five colourful rings.
We're Canadians. We adapt, overcome and do it all with a smile on our faces - and a coffee in hand. Snow hates snowshoes, so go rent some and stomp that snow to smithereens. Ice doesn't like skates, so grab a pair and carve up that surface (or stumble a lot like I do). Walk on the beach, wheel along the sidewalk or head into the woods. Whatever you do, do it outside. Take a bottle of BC wine with you; it won't need a cooler, and with those handy twist-off caps you're all set. Just remember to pack in and pack out.
cook (or eat) something
I'm with the bears when it comes to winter: I hibernate. My personal addition to their winter ritual is that I eat. More.
Winter is the best time to get creative with food. Sure, there's less local fresh produce available (by less I mean nil), but that shouldn't stop you. Go to your favourite snack spot and chat up the chef - chances are he or she has a little more time on their hands right now, but that just means they'll have more time to talk about how and what they love to cook. Have a good meal, made either by yourself, someone you love or someone who you love what they cook. Invite others to join you. Feed.
read more
With Canada Reads and Canada Also Reads practically sitting in our laps, it's time to hit the books. With gusto.
Maybe you're a Kindle fan (I still think it sounds like it's made of chocolate), or maybe you like the feel and smell of pulp and paper. Doesn't matter. There are a ton of ways to join the read action. You can do it at home alone, with friends or in public - and unlike some other fun things, it's completely legal. Get a book and get your read on.
If you're feeling adventurous you can do it all in one day: go for a walk, hit the local art gallery, visit the bookstore and go for dinner with a friend before heading home to curl up under a thick blanket with a glass of wine and that new read.
Overcome, Canadians. Don't let the rings get you down.
~ Jeannette
Thursday, February 4, 2010
I cop to the chapstick
Today I overheard a fourteen-year-old girl talking to her school principal about the newest, deepest and most misunderstood love of her life. It sort of went like this.
Girl: "...and I walked by his house eight times yesterday, and picked up a rock from his driveway every time. I've got, like, nineteen rocks now."
Principal: "That's stalker behaviour, you know."
The girl is crestfallen. I can't let that happen. She's a sister, a comrade in arms in the battle of her rationale mind versus her hormones. I get it.
Me: "I kept a piece of cloth in a shoebox for six months. This guy I had a big thing for used it at a concert. It reeked. Eventually my mom told me to throw it out. I did - after another month."
Not quite a lie but not quite the truth - I know I was asked to throw some reeking piece of something away which reminded me of an unrequited adolescent obsession; what the item was I can't remember. But it works. We grin at each other. Co-conspirators. The principal doesn't look pleased.
Principal: "Oh, that doesn't help. Don't play along. Come on - help me out."
Help him out? Puh-leeze. He's sitting there in his Lacoste shirt, Burberry jacket and comfortable shoes, judging her. Without even trying to put himself in her place.
He doesn't get the teeter-totter emotions, the sudden highs and devastating lows. He doesn't get that everything at that point in a chick's life is high-tension wire, elastic bands stretched to capacity, everything at the far end of the spectrum. Sometimes I miss it.
A few months ago, I went to see a teen flick with a friend, her seventeen-year-old daughter and the daughter's-boyfriend's-younger-sister. (that's how we talk, you know) I was immersed in a total girl teen experience. Nervous giggling, disaffected stares, ear-drum rupturing squeals, feet up on seats and eyes peeking above denim-clad knees. Collective sighs and sharp intakes of breath at the glimpse of the heartthrob. Smells of popcorn and cherry chapstick. Okay, I cop to the chapstick.
It was awesome. Total adolescent girl nirvana.
My friend and I talked about how good it felt to be surrounded by the girl-ness of it all. The great unknown, the experiencing things for the first time, the fluttery chest feelings and butterflies flitting everywhere, taking over our brain. Our logical, rational brain. The one that beat everyone on the debate team. Then that distracted, hummingbird movement brain thing takes over for a few years and it's earth shattering. Amazing, awkward, devastating and magnificent all rolled up in one big ball of energy.
I still get those butterflies - especially when my fella grabs my hand and I'm not expecting it. But sometimes I miss laying in bed, looking at my ceiling and wondering all the nonsensical things my fifteen-year-old-girl brain wondered.
Then I grab a glass of wine and realize it's pretty good when the elastic isn't stretched to capacity. Mostly. Here's to all the crazy, ridiculous things we did - and do - as those people we were. And are.
~ Jeannette
Girl: "...and I walked by his house eight times yesterday, and picked up a rock from his driveway every time. I've got, like, nineteen rocks now."
Principal: "That's stalker behaviour, you know."
The girl is crestfallen. I can't let that happen. She's a sister, a comrade in arms in the battle of her rationale mind versus her hormones. I get it.
Me: "I kept a piece of cloth in a shoebox for six months. This guy I had a big thing for used it at a concert. It reeked. Eventually my mom told me to throw it out. I did - after another month."
Not quite a lie but not quite the truth - I know I was asked to throw some reeking piece of something away which reminded me of an unrequited adolescent obsession; what the item was I can't remember. But it works. We grin at each other. Co-conspirators. The principal doesn't look pleased.
Principal: "Oh, that doesn't help. Don't play along. Come on - help me out."
Help him out? Puh-leeze. He's sitting there in his Lacoste shirt, Burberry jacket and comfortable shoes, judging her. Without even trying to put himself in her place.
He doesn't get the teeter-totter emotions, the sudden highs and devastating lows. He doesn't get that everything at that point in a chick's life is high-tension wire, elastic bands stretched to capacity, everything at the far end of the spectrum. Sometimes I miss it.
A few months ago, I went to see a teen flick with a friend, her seventeen-year-old daughter and the daughter's-boyfriend's-younger-sister. (that's how we talk, you know) I was immersed in a total girl teen experience. Nervous giggling, disaffected stares, ear-drum rupturing squeals, feet up on seats and eyes peeking above denim-clad knees. Collective sighs and sharp intakes of breath at the glimpse of the heartthrob. Smells of popcorn and cherry chapstick. Okay, I cop to the chapstick.
It was awesome. Total adolescent girl nirvana.
My friend and I talked about how good it felt to be surrounded by the girl-ness of it all. The great unknown, the experiencing things for the first time, the fluttery chest feelings and butterflies flitting everywhere, taking over our brain. Our logical, rational brain. The one that beat everyone on the debate team. Then that distracted, hummingbird movement brain thing takes over for a few years and it's earth shattering. Amazing, awkward, devastating and magnificent all rolled up in one big ball of energy.
I still get those butterflies - especially when my fella grabs my hand and I'm not expecting it. But sometimes I miss laying in bed, looking at my ceiling and wondering all the nonsensical things my fifteen-year-old-girl brain wondered.
Then I grab a glass of wine and realize it's pretty good when the elastic isn't stretched to capacity. Mostly. Here's to all the crazy, ridiculous things we did - and do - as those people we were. And are.
~ Jeannette
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