Being A Mum . Cooking
Cooking like Mummyji – I Wish!!
On January 9, 2016 by Speranza
One of my key ways of cheering myself up involves eating, making or reading about Indian food. (Often, all at the same time).
I also enjoy a nice outing to the Indian grocery store; I do my best when I’m there, trying respectfully to use the right words (atta instead of flour and never referencing a ‘curry’ since this is a crass Anglo-misnomer) but I’m also cringingly aware that they may think I’m pulling a “Food Channel-Poseur” and will be holding themselves up at the counter, screaming with laughter behind the Bollywood dvds as I leave …
(I do prefer to believe that my sincerity is not in question as I have been the recipient of more than a few whispered best-ways-to-do-this during my visits …)
Indian mothers throughout the world – Mummyjis, if you will – you have my utmost respect and admiration! I applaud the sheer time and love it takes to make just one Indian meal and the skill that is involved in making everything come together at the right time. We often joke at home that it takes two days notice just to make a proper Indian lunch – never mind dinner! (And to Son #2, no I still don’t think it’s necessary to rub the chickpeas through a sieve to remove their skins and this will not be happening in my world …)
Being A Mum . My Mother . Photography . The General
Some Things Really are Black and White
On September 11, 2015 by Speranza
It never ceases to delight me how much one small thing can just alter your entire mood and perception.
Tonight for example, The General and I had already decided that a documentary would be just the thing to round out our simple BBQ fare but by the time everything was assembled, I was already starting to feel churlish about it, not sure if I really wanted to “think” after such a long day at the office and generally, finding all kinds of reasons that we should once more revert to the dreadfully predictable choices provided by Basic Cable.
(It’s a bit like ordering fast food when you are desperate, already knowing what the outcome will be and despising yourself when it’s all over.)
Being A Mum . Frasier and Niles . Top Ten Lists
Top Ten Reasons to Celebrate NOT Having to do Back-to-School
On September 7, 2015 by Speranza 10. Think of the time you can use for yourself rather than filling out ALL.THOSE.FORMS that come back after the first day! I briefly considered having a rubber stamp made with my signature on. 9. Think of the cash that you no longer have to root for under couch cushions to include with many of
Being A Mum . Frasier and Niles . Nostalgia
The Stomach Knows: Part II
On September 3, 2015 by Speranza
Fast forward to Frasier’s first day at school which was preempted by much psychological preparation including nightly readings about what that first day would entail ( I seem to recall the protagonist was a young raccoon) the purchase of a special, fancy knapsack and a lunch that included sliced grapes (no choking hazard) and sandwiches that were cut into the shape of a duck. His teacher, a kind and vivacious woman who was all flowy skirts and paisleys (think: Ms.Frizzle) actually came to the house to introduce herself over the summer and had already made quite an impression.
Being A Mum . Childhood . Nostalgia
The Stomach Knows Part I
On September 2, 2015 by Speranza
I am visiting my September pasts. I am walking along our street at a lazy pace, the kind of speed which will accommodate my small son’s wish to examine every dead earwig and share a secret with every nudging, neighbourhood cat and inspect each snail shell in case ‘someone is home.’ The sun filters weak coins of light onto our backs but the first indicator that the season is changing comes from within. Specifically, my stomach. Before I even had a chance to be fully awake this morning, the open window carried to me the smell of fresh earth but with a new chilliness that was not there even yesterday and that burnt, peppery smell of leaves that are just beginning to crisp. Already a fluttering of anxiety had begun in my stomach, creeping downwards like a cold syrup, so steady that I could feel it unfurling like a flag. But really, what was actually wrong?