Mother's Day

I don't live in the same city as my mom but thanks to her, this is no cause for any feelings of guilt. Never is there a birthday, anniversary or any other significant day that my mother makes me feel badly about not being able to celebrate with her. Mom has two boys and two girls yet only my brother and his family live in the same city as she does. We all speak regularly but he is the only one who gets to really be there for those special days. We all visit whenever and for however long we can and even if at times these visits feel like the proverbial drop in the pan they work for us. If I have in the past had occasion to lament that I was missing Mother's Day, Mom's usual response was (and still is ) " for me, everyday is Mother's Day." I always thought that this was something she composed just so I wouldn't feel bad, but now as a mom with one of my own children living away, I understand how wise her words are and how true. In the end, if you are lucky enough to have a family you love and who loves you, distance is only that, and takes nothing away from the real feel. A mom is a mom is a mom no matter how scattered her offspring; being physically apart has nothing on the nearness of the heart.
Happy Mother's Day to the greatest mom in the whole wide world from her luckiest daughter.

Rhubarb

Spring is here and it's not! We vacillate between the mild warmish weather and the unseasonably cool gusty rainy days of May never quite sure about the state of our garden. Duly planted are the usual favourites and although it will be awhile before we can reap what we have sown, there is however one hale and hearty patch which lays in wait perfect for picking NOW! That would be the rhubarb corner which is teeming with stalks ready to chop and boil. To profit from this timely harvest, we plan Sunday dinner around a rhubarb pie and crisp not caring a whit about the copious amounts of sugar that we will use to offset the bitterness that is intrinsic to the root. I have always loved it even when served on its own after its been carefully boiled down to that amazing pale pink hued mush and am convinced that the only negative about rhubarb is when it is used as a heckle from the back of an otherwise quiet theatre. Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb!

A Quarter Of A Century!!

I know that at 60 I may be considered by some to be old to have a 25 year old but on the eve of her birthday I find out about an 60 and 72 year old women who are hatching for the first or 12th time and that certainly puts a new spin on how I see the big picture. Our little girl was a gift to top all others. Thrilled with being parents to our son, we had decided to have no more hatchlings despite our son's repeated request for a 'sister'. Our daughter chose to become one of us and that's just what she did. Along the way however, she redefined our little family in ways too numerous to list. and because of her we found out that there is no such thing as a limit to how much or how many a parent can love. Where we had thought our threesome was just perfect, our new addition showed us a level of perfection that we never could have imagined. The years have flown by and aside from being a daughter who inspires tremendous admiration, she is a sister who adores and is adored by her older brother and is a young woman wise beyond her years. She is the classic parent to her parents and how lucky we all are to have this rarest of jewels in our crown.
Happy Birthday Amanda.

Rosemary

I have long had a good friend called Rosemary and years later I met one other person with the same name (thankfully only once) and that in a nutshell is my proper noun based experience. The herb however is quite another story and although mine is not the popular opinion, for me, rosemary is verboten. It may not be present as part of a herb mish mash that makes for an encrusted layer of grilled meat or fish, it may not lie across any veg as a fallen mini branch supposedly trying to decorate my dinner plate, it may not be mixed into my olive oil dipper sauce and it may not show up uninvited by me in any chef's 'secret surprise' sauce because his/her secret would definitely be revealed if I were to be the taster; this would not be a good surprise. It took me awhile to narrow down the taste that made me instantly push my plate aside, but once rosemary was proven to be the cause for my taste buds shutting down, I became one of those fussy orderers. Every visit to what was touted as a great eating establishment had me quizzing the server; " What's in the sauce? Is there rosemary in the 'special mashed potatoes?" etc. etc. This is where I discovered that servers may not be the most honest of people. Many times after being assured that rosemary was not used, I found it, sometimes pre first bite as it is after all so damned aromatic. On one such occasion the chef felt the need to leave his lofty perch in the kitchen and come directly to our table to inquire how I had discerned the taste as he felt certain he had couched it in his cuisine. The bottom line is that I HATE rosemary and the good news is that there are others like me. Perhaps our numbers pale when compared to rosemary lovers, but in the meantime eaters anonymous has engaged me to do freelance work as a rosemary detector. Not that lucrative but great as a source of extra income.

Country Music And Lamb

All my life I have loved many kinds of music perhaps because I was lucky to grow up in a house full of music. Our parents modelled an appreciation for numerous genres and somehow we kids morphed into singers and dancers while honing our listening skills courtesy of the personal parental concerts (only Mom could carry a tune but Dad was so enthusiastic we never noticed his less than lyrical tonality till he was almost 60!)and private lovingly amassed record collection. We listened to big band, to classical, to old standards, to jazz and to rock and roll. We did the jitterbug, the waltz, the cha cha, the rumba and the meringue though admittedly we did not tango till we were adults. Having two and two as a sibling mix guarantees you a dance partner and though I was always taller than most in my age group, I never did not want to dance with my younger brother who was considerably shorter..(even today)We believed our dad when he called us the Cha Cha Champions and we also believed him when he told us we had beautiful voices..my brother did! The musical richness shared by my family is the most incredible gift and though I tried to pass it down I forgot that kids will inevitably need to stake their own musical claim and nothing you expose them to can prevent them from loving heavy metal or any other types that I might personally find discordant. I think the trick to perpetuating musical appreciation on the wider spectrum is not to bad mouth or omit for whatever reason, any one type. This is why I never told my kids that I could't stand country music. I kind of blame that on my folks and equate it to to my intense distaste for lamb. Neither lamb nor country music were ever served in our home.

Remembering

I know that there are innumerable websites where you can pre-send all types of greeting cards and this has been a good way for me not to miss any special occasions while not admitting to anyone that in fact the cards are delivered on time thanks to my little pink date book and the internet, not in any part thanks to my memory for dates which had never been too good in my youth and is now in my senior years, even worse! Lately I have noticed that sending ecards has become more complicated and time consuming which are not optimum conditions for my use of the computer and this has greatly influenced my online card sending habits. I have all but cut out my visits to those websites but I've noticed that as a result of this change, I am once again worried about missing the days that absolutely require acknowledging. It became clear that I needed an alternative plan and after careful consideration I think that I have come up with something simple and doable which allows me to never have to say 'I'm sorry I'm late'. I now get a jump start on recognizing all those momentous occasions by emailing a brief 'wishing' missive one day prior to the actual date because as everyone knows, it's far better to be early.... This also works extremely well when these emails are going to friends and/or family who live in different time zones. Remembering is now a piece of cake!

Les Matins Blancs

Anyone who has ever woken up in the night and been unable to fall back to sleep has had what is called 'Les Nuits Blanches'! This is a French term meaning white nights (not to be confused with white knights)and in my opinion it is an absolutely perfect description of what happens when we are wrenched from our sleep and unable to find our way back. This term cannot be applied to those nights when temporary insomnia motivates you to switch on your bedside lamp(low beam of course) and read yourself back to slumber because once that light is on, the 'white' is gone. For obvious reasons it is not recommended to have too many of these 'white nights'. It goes almost without saying that you will begin to have that haggard ghostly appearance which will not be a good thing if you can properly focus when looking in the mirror, and this new look will make you the subject of all manner of gossipy chatter around the water cooler so it is best to limit these nocturnal detours to as few as possible. There is however one other disruption that is also sleep (or lack thereof) related. That is the matin blanc. ( blanc,because matin is masculine of course) This occurs when you return home very late on a Saturday and finally hit the hay safe in the knowledge that you don't have to get up early on Sunday. Without warning you awaken at 6:00am ready to greet the day after only a few hours of sleep. Try as you will, you cannot get back to your dreams. You are in the full throes of a matin blanc.