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on August 18, 2012

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But no one will see it

I set up the nativity in the backyard again this year. In the past, it has been out front near the fire hydrant that is on our property, and possibly near the turnaround, or keeping the inside of the shed festive – I don’t exactly recall. This year, I also decorated the turnaround with the large, outdoor ornaments instead of putting them on the trees out by the street – and fire hydrant – because one of my boys parks there. But, back to the nativity: I was informed, “But no one can see it out there.” I pondered momentarily… …No one can see it when they are up at 6 a.m., making the morning pot of coffee? …No one can see it when they’re putting away groceries or food prepping? …No one can see it when they are standing at the sink doing all the dishes? …No one can see it when they’re doling out the dogs’ medicine or letting them out the back door and watching for them to come straight back in after they’ve pottied? I replied, “I can see it when I am standing at the kitchen win...

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to be "crunchy"

I wrote on social media that I would be honoring my late mother on her birthday by eating tofu and sprouts (that I had cooked and grown myself, though I didn’t share that detail), which I was subjected to as a kid when all I really wanted in my lunchbox was a Fluffernutter. For those of you who don't know, a Fluffernutter is Marshmallow Fluff and peanut butter (probably creamy Jif) on Wonder Bread. I knew about these because kids in school ate them, and also because the recipe was on the jar of Fluff, alongside the recipe for "Never-Fail Fudge," which we made as gifts for the holidays (because you could source all the ingredients with food stamps, therefore it didn't cost anything other than the sacrifice of not eating the food we could have bought). But we ate brown bread and natural peanut butter. We never had Fluff except at Christmas time when we were making our wreath-shaped fudge gifts, and there wasn't enough left over to make a Fluffernutter. (At most, ...

The luxury of time

“I’m in no rush,” the woman at the end of the supermarket aisle said to me. We had almost crashed our carts: the aisles are narrow, and one of us was making a wide right turn, and the other of us might have been speeding a bit towards the intersection. We both stopped and smiled, and paused before she offered to let me go ahead. I made my tight right turn down the bread aisle. It was Saturday morning. I had come from a “lite” gym session, which was more about being social than working out since I was saving my legs for my hockey game that night. I just wanted to pick up a few food prep items. “Thank you,” I smiled. “See you at the end of the next aisle!” I’m in no rush, either, I thought to myself, breathing in deeply. What is the hurry? I had four unstructured hours before I had to leave for my game, and it was a long weekend. I exhaled slowly, shifting into not-hurry mode. How often do I find myself • Rushing to the gym? • Squeezing in one more errand? • Running late to ro...

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