As I type this my fingers are scented with lavender. The small mounds I planted last year have grown into a continuous hedge and spilled onto the sidewalk. And while I knew I should have trimmed them back, they were alive with bees all summer, so I have to confess, I was afraid to.
But now most of the bees are gone so I got to work and snipped them back and the result is a mound of dry fragrant stalks. I've been stripping off the dried flowers with the hope of storing them in satchels.
While most of my flowers have faded, still persisting are the cosmos, anemones and the herbs too. The sage I bought because it smelled of pineapple is sending out red spiky flowers and the verbena, a weed really, still smells brightly of lemon.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
My dog Echo
Echo is a 10-year-old black lab. She's been my constant running companion for almost all of her years, but for the last few months she's had a sore shoulder.
After a series of cartophen shots, and almost daily anti-inflammatories, she seems to have gotten better. Little by little, I've been testing her to see how far she can run.
Yesterday, I took her to one of her favourite places, Lynnmouth Park across the Second Narrows in North Vancouver. The wide trail winds its way along Lynn Creek, connecting several parks along the way.
It's a trail that really makes me aware of seasonal changes. Today the leaves were losing their greens with surfacing yellows and oranges. A few, dried and curled, littered the path. It's not just the trees and shrubs that remind me of the season, it's also the river - after a heavy rain the river is full and rapid; during the summer it's low with exposed dry boulders.
After recent rains the river level had rebounded from it's summer laziness. I climbed down to the bank near one of the deeper parts and chucked the ball in a few times. Echo valiantly swam against the current to retrieved her ball each time.
It was great to be back on our favourite trail and I hope for many more great years with my dog Echo.
After a series of cartophen shots, and almost daily anti-inflammatories, she seems to have gotten better. Little by little, I've been testing her to see how far she can run.
Yesterday, I took her to one of her favourite places, Lynnmouth Park across the Second Narrows in North Vancouver. The wide trail winds its way along Lynn Creek, connecting several parks along the way.
It's a trail that really makes me aware of seasonal changes. Today the leaves were losing their greens with surfacing yellows and oranges. A few, dried and curled, littered the path. It's not just the trees and shrubs that remind me of the season, it's also the river - after a heavy rain the river is full and rapid; during the summer it's low with exposed dry boulders.
After recent rains the river level had rebounded from it's summer laziness. I climbed down to the bank near one of the deeper parts and chucked the ball in a few times. Echo valiantly swam against the current to retrieved her ball each time.
It was great to be back on our favourite trail and I hope for many more great years with my dog Echo.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Pastry
My fridge is overflowing with sweets: apple strudel, almond apple tart, vanilla sauce, banana bread, panna cotta. These are a few of my favourite things...left over from a two-night pastry class at The Pastry Training Centre of Vancouver.
Chef Marko Ropke took us through a dizzying number of recipes, all the while supplying us with all kinds of pastry wisdom.
For example, double acting baking powder is not just double strength baking powder - it acts in two ways. It's activated by both moisture and heat.
Baking soda needs an acid to activate it and you'd better get that batter in the oven once you've mixed it up because once it's finished reacting, it won't do any more leavening.
Use pastry flour for extra-light cookies and pastries and use bread dough for breads. That all purpose stuff isn't ideal for either types of baking.
I'm not giving away all the secrets here though.
Chef Marko Ropke took us through a dizzying number of recipes, all the while supplying us with all kinds of pastry wisdom.
For example, double acting baking powder is not just double strength baking powder - it acts in two ways. It's activated by both moisture and heat.
Baking soda needs an acid to activate it and you'd better get that batter in the oven once you've mixed it up because once it's finished reacting, it won't do any more leavening.
Use pastry flour for extra-light cookies and pastries and use bread dough for breads. That all purpose stuff isn't ideal for either types of baking.
I'm not giving away all the secrets here though.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Luxe
Last night we celebrated my mom's 88th birthday at Bishop's restaurant. It's her favourite place - where else would we take her?
It was my first time and I had heard so much about the restaurant that I felt like I was entering some kind of sacred site.
It's just a small place - a room really - softly lit, white linen table cloths and napkins, candles, native art hung on the walls. Simple and elegant.
There were all kinds of wonders on the menu, making it difficult to commit, but I did and enjoyed my choices. We were served a chaser of chilled tomatoe bisque in tiny bowls - just a sip or two of intense homegrown summer tomato taste.
I couldn't get enough of the lovely local tomato, so I ordered the tomato salad, a combination of greens, dark reds and yellows, with fresh basil, olive oil and topped with creamy Bishop's-made ricotta.
For the entre I had fresh scallops cooked perfectly and served with daintily chopped veggies and the occasional tiny chanterelle.
For dessert I had a fat poached peach with raspberry sauce and vanilla ice cream - decorated with a pretty flowering sprig of anise (must plant some next year for the scent alone).
Well, you only turn 88 once, and I hope that for my 88th I have a meal just as wonderful.
It was my first time and I had heard so much about the restaurant that I felt like I was entering some kind of sacred site.
It's just a small place - a room really - softly lit, white linen table cloths and napkins, candles, native art hung on the walls. Simple and elegant.
There were all kinds of wonders on the menu, making it difficult to commit, but I did and enjoyed my choices. We were served a chaser of chilled tomatoe bisque in tiny bowls - just a sip or two of intense homegrown summer tomato taste.
I couldn't get enough of the lovely local tomato, so I ordered the tomato salad, a combination of greens, dark reds and yellows, with fresh basil, olive oil and topped with creamy Bishop's-made ricotta.
For the entre I had fresh scallops cooked perfectly and served with daintily chopped veggies and the occasional tiny chanterelle.
For dessert I had a fat poached peach with raspberry sauce and vanilla ice cream - decorated with a pretty flowering sprig of anise (must plant some next year for the scent alone).
Well, you only turn 88 once, and I hope that for my 88th I have a meal just as wonderful.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
PJY
Quite a while ago, a friend told me that he always seems to have an idol - someone who currently captures his ultimate respect.
I'm the same way. Some of my idols are friends, people I've met along the way (my current idol is Mary Holmes the coordinator of the UBC Aboriginal Garden - more about that another time maybe). Sometimes my idols are people in the press. One of those was Terry Fox - a nice looking boy my age, bravely making his way across Canada (declining corporate sponsorship). And of course, the heart break when he was forced to stop.
Another of my idols was, as I knew him, PJY. He publicly fought his disease with the aim of educating people about AIDS, which at the time was met with a mix of hysterical fear and extreme homophobia.
Peter was a friend of Ken's and to celebrate the end of medical school a group of about 15 or 20 classmates and various partners (which is why I went along) took to the Gulf Islands in a flotilla of 3 sailboats. It was a fun and memorable trip. My most lasting image of Peter is during our croquet tournament, played - I think - on San Juan island. Peter festooned himself in all things British, sporting a large Union Jack on his chest - quite appropriate for the game, really.
On Friday I attended a showing of The Dr. Peter Series - a collection of segments that appeared every week on the CBC evening news. I don't think I missed one. They were thought provoking and often funny - and I was really proud of him.
At the end of the evening the audience was asked to pose questions or share their own experiences. I would never stand up in front of a bunch of people and do such a thing, but I did want to to share my experience as a nurse at the very peak of the AIDS hysteria, so I'll do it here.
In 1983, as a student nurse, I worked at the Drake Street clinic downtown. At that time they knew of a disease that was affecting gay men - but they didn't yet know how it was transmitted - the nurse there said that there was some speculation that it might be transmitted by steam, since many gay men were frequenting steam baths.
When I graduated later that year, I got a job at VGH on an acute medical floor. One diagnosis that frequently appeared on the charts of young men who were admitted to our ward was fever not yet diagnosed, FNYD.
In 1985, I followed Ken to Montreal, where he was doing his internship. I had an interest in burn care so I got a job at the Montreal General, in the burns and isolation unit, or the pus pit as it was known. Because the ward was entirely made up of single rooms (isolation rooms), we were the first ward to admit patients with known AIDS.
At this time the hysteria was at its height. Nurses were afraid - by that time we knew it was a sexually transmitted blood-born disease (and there were actually quite a few studies out about the virus if people had bothered to read them) and I remember nurses saying that you could get AIDS by touching the patient's IV tubing. Even though I knew that was irrational, I can recall riding home from work on the Metro, wondering if I was going to die.
I also became angry at the ignorance displayed at the hospital, which should have been the place were science-based practice was in place.
I signed on to be the nurse of a patient with AIDS. He was in his mid-20s and when he found out he had AIDS he took an overdose. What happened though, was that he passed out for a very long time (it might have been 30 hours - though I'm not sure) and because he was heavily drugged, he had remained in the same position all that time, cutting off circulation to one of his legs. The end result was that he was admitted with an amputated leg and several pressure sores - and the thing about the stump where the leg was removed, was that it needed to be irrigated several times a day.
Could you get more fear-inducing scenario at the time - needless to say, there were very few who volunteered to look after him. The hospital burned all of his linen that was changed every day - all of it - the whole time he was on the unit, which was months. Even the TV man didn't want to go into the room to fix the TV. I said something to him along the lines of, "You don't have to have sex with him, you just have to fix his TV!"
It was also the only time I ever wanted to get someone fired. Since my patient had tried to commit suicide, someone had to be in his room at all times for the first while, to make sure he didn't try it again. One of the orderlies who was assigned to stay in the room refused to touch the patient. He just sat in the chair for the whole shift saying and doing nothing.
It was some time late in '86, after moving back to Vancouver, that there was a whisper, a rumour, accompanied by a chill of fear that PJY had AIDS and that he was very ill. But he rallied and soon, there he was, in weekly installments, explaining in simple terms what was going on with his disease. To do that, not only did he have to come out to his family, but he also had to come out to a pretty homophobic society.
Peter was the perfect person to tell such a story - he was smart and funny and as a physician, he was able to educate us about AIDS. Things have changed in many ways for the better, and Peter is one of the reasons why.
Check out the Dr Peter Diaries Then and Now.
I'm the same way. Some of my idols are friends, people I've met along the way (my current idol is Mary Holmes the coordinator of the UBC Aboriginal Garden - more about that another time maybe). Sometimes my idols are people in the press. One of those was Terry Fox - a nice looking boy my age, bravely making his way across Canada (declining corporate sponsorship). And of course, the heart break when he was forced to stop.
Another of my idols was, as I knew him, PJY. He publicly fought his disease with the aim of educating people about AIDS, which at the time was met with a mix of hysterical fear and extreme homophobia.
Peter was a friend of Ken's and to celebrate the end of medical school a group of about 15 or 20 classmates and various partners (which is why I went along) took to the Gulf Islands in a flotilla of 3 sailboats. It was a fun and memorable trip. My most lasting image of Peter is during our croquet tournament, played - I think - on San Juan island. Peter festooned himself in all things British, sporting a large Union Jack on his chest - quite appropriate for the game, really.
On Friday I attended a showing of The Dr. Peter Series - a collection of segments that appeared every week on the CBC evening news. I don't think I missed one. They were thought provoking and often funny - and I was really proud of him.
At the end of the evening the audience was asked to pose questions or share their own experiences. I would never stand up in front of a bunch of people and do such a thing, but I did want to to share my experience as a nurse at the very peak of the AIDS hysteria, so I'll do it here.
In 1983, as a student nurse, I worked at the Drake Street clinic downtown. At that time they knew of a disease that was affecting gay men - but they didn't yet know how it was transmitted - the nurse there said that there was some speculation that it might be transmitted by steam, since many gay men were frequenting steam baths.
When I graduated later that year, I got a job at VGH on an acute medical floor. One diagnosis that frequently appeared on the charts of young men who were admitted to our ward was fever not yet diagnosed, FNYD.
In 1985, I followed Ken to Montreal, where he was doing his internship. I had an interest in burn care so I got a job at the Montreal General, in the burns and isolation unit, or the pus pit as it was known. Because the ward was entirely made up of single rooms (isolation rooms), we were the first ward to admit patients with known AIDS.
At this time the hysteria was at its height. Nurses were afraid - by that time we knew it was a sexually transmitted blood-born disease (and there were actually quite a few studies out about the virus if people had bothered to read them) and I remember nurses saying that you could get AIDS by touching the patient's IV tubing. Even though I knew that was irrational, I can recall riding home from work on the Metro, wondering if I was going to die.
I also became angry at the ignorance displayed at the hospital, which should have been the place were science-based practice was in place.
I signed on to be the nurse of a patient with AIDS. He was in his mid-20s and when he found out he had AIDS he took an overdose. What happened though, was that he passed out for a very long time (it might have been 30 hours - though I'm not sure) and because he was heavily drugged, he had remained in the same position all that time, cutting off circulation to one of his legs. The end result was that he was admitted with an amputated leg and several pressure sores - and the thing about the stump where the leg was removed, was that it needed to be irrigated several times a day.
Could you get more fear-inducing scenario at the time - needless to say, there were very few who volunteered to look after him. The hospital burned all of his linen that was changed every day - all of it - the whole time he was on the unit, which was months. Even the TV man didn't want to go into the room to fix the TV. I said something to him along the lines of, "You don't have to have sex with him, you just have to fix his TV!"
It was also the only time I ever wanted to get someone fired. Since my patient had tried to commit suicide, someone had to be in his room at all times for the first while, to make sure he didn't try it again. One of the orderlies who was assigned to stay in the room refused to touch the patient. He just sat in the chair for the whole shift saying and doing nothing.
It was some time late in '86, after moving back to Vancouver, that there was a whisper, a rumour, accompanied by a chill of fear that PJY had AIDS and that he was very ill. But he rallied and soon, there he was, in weekly installments, explaining in simple terms what was going on with his disease. To do that, not only did he have to come out to his family, but he also had to come out to a pretty homophobic society.
Peter was the perfect person to tell such a story - he was smart and funny and as a physician, he was able to educate us about AIDS. Things have changed in many ways for the better, and Peter is one of the reasons why.
Check out the Dr Peter Diaries Then and Now.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Dahlias
Dahlias: the runner-ups of the flower beauty pagent. They're the flowers that show up after the party's over. Over-made up and garish, no one told them that all the best loved flowers are scented.
Still they allow us to pretend that summer is still here - though school has resumed, the PNE is over, and our outdoor pools are deserted.
Those are my thoughts on dahlias.
Still they allow us to pretend that summer is still here - though school has resumed, the PNE is over, and our outdoor pools are deserted.
Those are my thoughts on dahlias.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Kooza!
This morning I was fishing through my bag - it's summer and I'm carting around a bag that is much like an open wicker box - and it was filled with colourful streamers, little rectangles of tissue paper in yellow, purples and greens, a few bits of popcorn and a little pink ice cream sampler - all fall-out from last night's Cirque de Soleil performance. (OK the spoon was from a trip to Mario's Gelati last week.)
I laughed, I gasped, I was wide-eyed in wonder. Yes it was a fabulous performance. And if I had never heard of Cirque, I probably would have been totally blown away. A few years ago I saw Cirque Eos , which I thought was incredible, but people shook their heads at me and said - "not as good as Cirque de Soleil." So as often happens when your expectations are sky high - reality falls a little short.
I have to say though, I was stunned by the two guys on a double spinning wheel called "The Wheel of Death" suspended at the top of the tent. They appeared to throw away all thought of personal safety and hurled themselves around in a similar way in which I might toss myself into a hammock. They moved like - I don't know - jaguars - totally comfortable, knowing that where ever they flung their bodies, they'd land safely. In the end, I just could not watch - I just keep thinking, "Get down from there!"
While not as acrobatic as Cirque de Soleil, I'm still in awe over Fuerza Bruta, which I saw last summer. I'd just seen nothing like it, and I'd never heard anything about it either. Maybe it's all about expectations .
I laughed, I gasped, I was wide-eyed in wonder. Yes it was a fabulous performance. And if I had never heard of Cirque, I probably would have been totally blown away. A few years ago I saw Cirque Eos , which I thought was incredible, but people shook their heads at me and said - "not as good as Cirque de Soleil." So as often happens when your expectations are sky high - reality falls a little short.
I have to say though, I was stunned by the two guys on a double spinning wheel called "The Wheel of Death" suspended at the top of the tent. They appeared to throw away all thought of personal safety and hurled themselves around in a similar way in which I might toss myself into a hammock. They moved like - I don't know - jaguars - totally comfortable, knowing that where ever they flung their bodies, they'd land safely. In the end, I just could not watch - I just keep thinking, "Get down from there!"
While not as acrobatic as Cirque de Soleil, I'm still in awe over Fuerza Bruta, which I saw last summer. I'd just seen nothing like it, and I'd never heard anything about it either. Maybe it's all about expectations .
Friday, September 3, 2010
On Main: travelling back in time
It's sunny - I should be happy, but well I've been a little low lately. It's nothing serious, just a "transition," as I'm told. The most painful phase of child birth is also called transition - so I suppose some transitions, though healthy, are tough to take.
In this state, I wandered into a store on Main Street called A Baker's Dozen - a lovely assortment of all things vintage - things that almost made me cry - an antique doll with a sweet painted face, yellow curls and chubby limbs - beautiful lapel pins, coral necklaces, hat boxes, and tin wind up toys, the kind my father loved so much - more fighting back of tears.
I came away with a few carefully chosen treasures that have already made themselves comfortable in my house, as if they'd been there all along.
In this state, I wandered into a store on Main Street called A Baker's Dozen - a lovely assortment of all things vintage - things that almost made me cry - an antique doll with a sweet painted face, yellow curls and chubby limbs - beautiful lapel pins, coral necklaces, hat boxes, and tin wind up toys, the kind my father loved so much - more fighting back of tears.
I came away with a few carefully chosen treasures that have already made themselves comfortable in my house, as if they'd been there all along.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
View from Crab Park bridge
This summer I've been going for weekly bike rides with a friend who, I think, is similar to me in her fitness and ability. We seem to go at pretty much the same speed and while we don't want to kill ourselves, we both are aiming for a pretty good ride. This week we started in Strathcona, peddled downtown, swung east and rode under Canada Place, through Crab Park and through what's now called Railtown. We ended up on a lovely patch of the Trans Canada Trail, but turned back before we got too far into Burnaby. Next time we plan to get further on that trail - who knows where we'll end up.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Comfort begins with a g
Some days are good and some days are not. Some days you need an escape and a little time on your own.
Today I decided to get away. I beat a path in a westerly direction and cruised past an interesting piece of street furniture. It was a gigantic yellow lowercase g:
Today I decided to get away. I beat a path in a westerly direction and cruised past an interesting piece of street furniture. It was a gigantic yellow lowercase g:
The g stands for Giovane. Lately I've been attracted to places because of their cool design and I have to say, the food's turned out to be pretty good.
The lovely red script lured me into Ploger German Deli where I've enjoyed the soups, sweets and chewy pretzels. They also have a wonderful selection of German sausages that I plan to try, one at a time.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Greetings
Welcome to my new blog.
They say you should write what you know, and I think you should blog what you know - or more specifically, blog what you're passionate about.
I'm passionate about life in Vancouver.
When I was in university and everyone was dying to travel and see the world, someone said to me, "I've done Vancouver."
Well, I too had the travel bug, but I knew I would never be "done" with Vancouver. And so, here it is, just little blog where I'll post notes about things I find of interest in the city I'm crazy about.
Here are a few pictures from my latest travels:
They say you should write what you know, and I think you should blog what you know - or more specifically, blog what you're passionate about.
I'm passionate about life in Vancouver.
When I was in university and everyone was dying to travel and see the world, someone said to me, "I've done Vancouver."
Well, I too had the travel bug, but I knew I would never be "done" with Vancouver. And so, here it is, just little blog where I'll post notes about things I find of interest in the city I'm crazy about.
Here are a few pictures from my latest travels:
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