A day off!

Woot. What is nicer than waking up in the morning and remembering it's Your Day Off.

                             Yay!


Started off the day nice n easy, with coffee on the couch with the cat. :)
Did some gardening....did some cleaning....the Best Electrician in the world came by to fix the bathroom fan, and we chatted fer a bit....and I made my List of Things to Do Today...which got me all excited cuz I'm gonna make my Tomater Sauce tomoro!
I love to cook and to bake. I love to eat, so that seems to work out well.

I haven't been able to make anything other than short batches of sauce for a coupla years; so I'm looking forward to making this batch.

I had to do some recording this afternoon; a spot for a Scenic Train Ride ...www.Pstr.on.ca if you wanna check out the train..... and on the way home (amidst various other errands) I stopped at a fantastic local market that features locally grown /produced everything. I'm really a fan of supporting local based stuff, the Slow Food movement thing - it's important.

Whilst at Briwood; I ended up picking out more than a few things.....as inspiration struck. I love grocery shopping.

It makes me feel safe and okay, when I can go shopping and buy whatever I want without worrying about the cost....I know I'm doing okay. I loved shopping as a child, sittin' in the cart, in the clean aisles and watching Mom pick out the brightly coloured boxes and packages, and the whole process was magical to me. NO idea why, it was just perfect for me. So now I still love to shop for food. I can spend hours in a big ol' grocery store, just moseying around the aisles lookin' at stuff, thinking about what to cook. (And yes. I am made fun of to no end by my friends for this.)

 So...tonite was a kitchen fiesta. The cats hid and my Mom only ventured out a few times to make disapproving sniffs and noises about how many dishes I was using. (I keep my mess controlled; and I clean up my messes. But I guess to our parents we are perennially 13 years old when in the kitchen.) I also made her favourite, broccoli and cheddar quiche. Except I don't use a crust, so it's more like a frittata, but she calls it Egg Pie so I go with that. I also snuck in some sundried tomatoes that I soaked in some water & sherry and used the liquor from that too in the pie. Yum. Next!

So I have this awesome cookbook; called "White Trash Gatherings" and it's got down-home country-cookin' recipes that I absolutely adore. It's old timey cooking and don't you DARE use low fat anything or margarine when using these recipes!! It was a gift to me ages ago - found in a artist's enclave shop thing off the interstate in West Virginia.
Tonite I made the biscuits, the coleslaw and tomoro...the FRIED CHICKEN!!! The stories in this book are hysterical, too. We've all got relatives like that.....

And while out gatherin' all my stuffs today, when at the Bulk Barn gettin' extra spices ( I didn't have any dry mustard or celery seed, gasp) I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that they were SOLD OUT of caramel corn. WHAT?!?!? That's my go to of guilty snack food pleasures.....

So I decided to make my own! Here's the recipe I used:  Caramel Corn recipe and it is okay. Very few ingredients, easy, but I like a lighter tasting caramel so maybe next time I might use some white sugar....hmmm.... but still, very tasty. It's pretty yummy when still warm, in fact, I may or may not be stuffing my face as I type right now....

So let's see:

Chicken pieces for tomoro marinating in buttermilk - Check.
Coleslaw 'coming together' overnight in fridge - Check.
"Egg Pie" (what my mom calls quiche) made & ready to eat - Check
Corn muffins made - Check
Biscuits made - Check
Caramel Corn - Check
Peppers, Onions, Garlic, sliced and diced and ready for saucing tomoro - Check

I still have to bring in some more tomaters from the garden; and pull some of my onions and pick the basil.

I'll keep everyone posted and see how this turns out!

From The Past, Mon Dec 8, 2008

Santa Is A Scary Dude
Current mood:  warm

So yeah, as an actor I do all sorts of weird & wacky & wonderful gigs.

The last coupla Saturdays, I've been Elfina, one of Santa's little helpers.

And, as I've watched and witnessed many little wide eyed children meeting Santa for The First Time... I've realized, that Santa is Scary.

Seeing Santa is sort of an unspoken rite of passage for kids.
Goin' up there, letting go of mom or dad, and sitting on his knee is a Big Deal.
Showing the world that you're independent and okay with seeing the allmighty Santa, hanging out with the Dude himself, hey, that's a big step.

It always makes me laugh though> Me an' the other elf have started doin' a Countdown to Terror .... Watching the kids stand calmly in line with their parents, some of them fairly dancing with excitement to see Santa. Eyes bright and shining, they are SO EXCITED!!!!!

But then, something happens. The reality of what they are about to do, the enormity (I mean,this guys' huge. He knows if you've been bad or good, man. He knows when you threw your neighbours neatly stacked woodpile all over the yard!! HE knows!)

You can countdown the steps to Terror.....9,8,7 closer to Santa, starting to hide behind their parent's hand....6,5,4 getting an expression of worry....3,2, starting to cry and desperately yanking their parent back.... and ONE!!!!

Full blown crying and freaking out!! It's awesome. And terrifying. They flip and flop like a fish outta water and sometimes they almost get dropped. The parent laughs and scoops them up and Santa laughs in a Ho-Ho-Ho It's okay kinda way.

So yeah. Santa is a scary dude.

He is!!
A big, hairy, fat guy in a brilliant red suit that your Mom or Dad FORCES you to sit on! AND he's a STRANGER!!!

Think about it! What adult do you know that would do the same thing??

It's traumatic. Go ahead. Cast your mind back, if you haven't blocked it out of your memory already....
 All done up, hair brushed, good dress (or suit) on. It's after supper and you are sleepy and full. Standing in line with your parent, holding their hand, hot and itchy cuz the mall is too hot and your best outfit is made of 100%, pure grade spoky polyester.

('Spoky', for those of you that don't know, is the word for Scratchy and Poky and applies well to polyester jumpsuits from the 70's).

So there you are. Standing on Santa's doorstep. It's complete with a gingerbread roof and and red velvet stantions. And you're all excited..... you've written out your list, you've got it all planned in your head what you'll say....and then, the kid in front of you goes up...and you're.....next.


Oh god. It strikes fear in even the most jaded of 6 year olds. Suddenly, it's just you and the fat man. You can see where the beard doesn't quite reach under his nose. And suddenly, it strikes you. This isn't the real Santa. It can't be. How could somebody as colossally busy as Santa HAS to be this time of year be sitting in that chair at the mall ALL DAY?? Whoa. It dawns on you...this ... this isn't SANTA....it's a stranger.

Suddenly you're cold. Your palms sweat. Your knees won't unlock and butterflies are doing ballet in your tummy. You turn back, to hide behind your parent but they're over by the Elf checking out the picture packages available. You look desperately but they're not looking at you. You nervously look around for escape routes; but the only one is behind the Not-Santa and you gotta get by him first.

Oh no, oh no oh nonono. The kid is obviously winding up his list, Not-Santa's reaching down to hand the kid a candycane, the dismissal of choice for all Mall Santas...... Oh please you silently beg. Please let him be selfish and list more stuff he wants! Let him remember to ask for his brothers and sisters please please.....but no. The moment has come.

It's your turn.


One foot in front of the other. Half way up to the chair; you freeze. It's as if the world is silent except for the refrain 'he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake.....'  echoing through your head.
HE KNOWS. This GUY KNOWS WHERE I SLEEP???  Wait... wait... no. This guy isn't reallllly Santa. He can't possibly know.

So you keep walking. Up those three endless stairs. He leans down towards you, and two big white gloves reach down to pick you up.

After that it's a blur of mumbled half-replies and sliding in the limpy way off his knee and skedaddliing out the back way. Safe with your hand in Mom's....you head with her to the Sears to get your dad his annual Christmas slippers. You glance over your shoulder, back to Not-Santa's Castle.


Suddenly, you notice you are clenching a slightly-crushed candycane in your hand.

'Bastard.' You think.