Triple Dose

I am convinced that Girl Guide cookies contain something in them. I don’t know what drug it is, but there has to be something to explain me not eating any of my favourite granola bars or cookies in the house for 3 weeks and then bam, enter Girl Guide cookies, which I was sucked into buying from a little girl at a school I work at, and I can’t physically stop myself from eating them until they are finished. Gone in TWO days, with no help from the husband.

At least they’re all finished. Never again. Do not send your cute little girls after me, because it will not work.

Sometimes, on a beautiful Friday afternoon, it’s hard to think of standing in the kitchen and cooking, especially when you’ve been working hard all week.

Sometimes, it’s okay to get a little help. At $10 a piece, a rotisserie chicken is cheap and totally hits the spot. And yes, eating with your hands is perfectly acceptable.

While we’re at it, let’s get lazy about dessert too. Blackberries and strawberries, anyone?

Back when we were living here in Montreal when I was a little girl, my dad used to take us to Marché Jean-Talon every time he would pick up my sister and I by himself from Saturday School. Marché Jean-Talon was a big farmer’s market, and in the springtime, there would be barrels and barrels of beautifully ripe fruits and vegetables. As we would pass by, farmers would offer samplings of their selection, and my dad always accepted and got more for us, buying a small bag of what he was offered to thank the seller. I used to beg him to buy more, to go for the big barrel of apricots, plums, apples cucumbers, peppers, or my favourite, tomatoes. I didn’t really want to eat so much of it, nor did I care to stop the seller from pestering us to buy it already, and I didn’t necessarily want to see the smile of gratitude on his or her’s face either. No, what I wanted was far better– I wanted to see the look of shock on my mom’s face when we got home.

And every once in a while, my dad would give in to my begging and I would see a smile sneak past his face. He knew very well what he was doing when he bought that big bushel of tomatoes. He knew that when we got home, my mom would be surprised, then annoyed, and then just confused. What would she do with all those tomatoes?

But my mom was resourceful. She knew what to do with all those tomatoes. She froze them, dried them, pickled them, and stuck them into every meal. They were in our eggs in the morning, in our sandwiches at lunch, and in our soup, salad, and main course at dinner. I have to give her credit–she even cleverly stuck them into our meals without our noticing it.

Now my daydreams take on a similar path as that of my parents. I sit on the bus and I dream about Omar taking our little kids to the market to buy big barrels of strawberries and tomatoes. I imagine how they would take delight in surprising me with their purchases and how we would together experiment with making different flavours of jams and freezing the rest. I think of the bonds created when parents and children share something as basic as food. I dream about creating good memories for life in my kids, of family and food.

Champion of 2009 Battle of the Blades: Jamie Salé and Craig Simpson!

I was personally rooting for the Canadiens player, Stéphane Richer, but they were more likable anyway!

This posting everyday is exhausting!!

… it was an amazing game. Egypt’s going to the World Cup, baby! (we hope so, anyway!)

One unfortunate consequence of working every day is that the house suffers. Laundry doesn’t get folded, the kitchen isn’t used with love but with impatience, and dust piles high on top of side tables, dressers, and nightstands.

I would but I could stay at home and tend to my domain.

Even though I didn’t go to work today, I still feel exhausted. So much to do, so little time!

And now I’m bracing myself for a week of work. At least I know which schools I’m going to and when. My mind is trained– I wake up at 6:30am every weekday morning, waiting for that phone call. I hate that phone call, but when it comes, I diligently get out of bed and prepare for work.

I guess it’s no different than any other job.

I was wrong. So so WRONG.

At least I admit it.

I’ll say it again– I was totally and completely wrong.

Coming into this NaBloPoMo challenge, I WRONGLY assumed that it would be easy. My life is interesting, right? And if it isn’t, just put some filler material and it’ll all be ok. Right?

Wrong.

Along the way, the panic of having to post every single day makes even the thought of updating or working on your site completely repulsive.

(Also, I must admit, I’ve become addicted to the new Facebook app “Farmville”. Even if I try to explain the appeal, I couldn’t. In theory, it’s a waste of time– you grow stuff and you add neighbours and advance levels because of it, but there’s no direct competition. You couldn’t wipe our your neighbour in any way or take land away from others by expanding your land. It’s just creating your own farm and.. decorating it. All I can think about is whether my crops are ready to be harvested, because we wouldn’t want them to wither away and die before they’re harvested, no! This addiction, it’ll pass. I promise?)

My cousin just linked the helicopter game on facebook and I can’t even get through the first hurdle. My blood, it boils at games like this:

http://www.addictinggames.com/helicopter.html

Enjoy!