Woohoo!

Totally not quilt related.

With utter joy at the success of the Games and just a little sadness that it's all over, I had to share the most recent Arkison family portrait.

And yes, that is rapini and kale in the girls' bouquets. And binding strips making up the ribbon on their medals.

A Toast

This past year I've been asked the same question a few times: if you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be? Without hesitation, my answer is my father-in-law. I would do anything to have him meet The Monster and Smilosaurus and enjoy a raucous dinner where he would surely win the nightly roaring contest.

On this day, six years ago, he passed away. We, his family, miss him everyday. And this morning, I will raise a cup of tea to him. He made anyone feel at home, even if you spilled red wine on his pastel couch and carpet within ten minutes of meeting him. He even had the dad gene that allows a man to have a pre-dinner nap in the midst of kitchen chaos and grandkids climbing on him. He laughed every day and made the rest of us laugh too, even if it was at his taste in sneakers or his appreciation of a good deal. Doug was a man who treasured a good meal and cherished good company. He valued his friends and held his family close.

To Doug.

Texas Sunshine

I once smuggled a 10 pound bag of grapefruits on a trip from Brownsville, Texas to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Actually, I'm not sure smuggled is the right word considering that there is no easy way to tuck in grapefruits around your body. I could have gone for the fake pregnancy, but that would have been one lumpy baby. In the end I got through customs without any trouble. The officer probably smelled the citrus on the university student (I also had key limes) and was just relieved it wasn't pot.

How could I not bring them back with me? I'd just spent a week with my mom in Texas. She was living and working there courtesy of the 1990s health care cuts in Alberta. I spent Reading Week there, soaking up some sun, food, mom love, and absorbing the mystery of South Texas culture. Seriously, that is an odd place. Full of Winter Texans on golf and shopping trips, Mexicans coming across the border to have American babies, and every manner of poverty and riches on the same street.

I'd happily eaten grapefruits growing up in cold Canada, a winter staple in our house. But something about buying them from a roadside stand, still warm from the sun ,elevated them to smuggle-worthy status.

Sadly, we aren't in Texas this February. But with the quality of organic produce available in some stores, and the morning light streaming through the white dining room curtains I can fool myself into believing that this half circle of sunshine is actually still warm from the Texas sun. Sort of.

Besides, the fact that my mom used to live in Texas makes it local, right? How about the direct flight between here and Houston? Oh whatever. It's Canada in the winter and if I want a grapefruit I'm going to eat it.

Actually, we usually go through about 3 in the morning because the girls insist on climbing up next to me and sharing the segments as I cut them out of the fruit. I don't mind sharing. And one day I'll take them South to pick the fruit themselves, once my mom moves back. But I'm keeping them away from the crazy people who talk about buying handguns while they tan their feet.

When Hubby is in Charge of Cooking

My mom just left after a weekend of cooking, giggles, and laundry. She came down to help us after I blew out both my knees skiing last weekend. Hubby still isn't fully healed after his broken collarbone so taking care of the three of us girls is a bit much on top of working as well. So mom came down, fixed us up with some great dinners, and put some soup and pyrohy in the freezer.

But before she came down Hubby spent the week cooking.  One night I walked him through a leftover change-up, we enjoyed some meals from the freezer and from friends, and one night Hubby made wiener wraps. Hot dogs, plastic cheese, and the packaged dough in a can. He was in heaven, the girls loved them, and even I ate two. But I did eat most of the carrot sticks I convinced Hubby to prepare. I can't wait to cook again.