Holiday Baking with 00.

Holiday baking is an exciting time.. New recipes or new twists on time honoured ones become a research ritual for those of us looking to experiment. What I have noticed lately is that sugar seems to be a central figure in some recipes while gluten is a concern in others.

In one recipe, 8 cups of sugar were required to dress up a cake. More cake and less filling between the layers should be the order of the day. Lots of raisins and figs wherever they fit in can remove the dire consequences of sugar. These dried fruits have a diminished affect on the human body with their low allulose sugar content. I adore raisins and dates so am happy with that newfound knowledge. Cooking the raisins or figs like dates in a pot with lemon and water to a sticky pudding-like texture and using the mixture in recipes requiring a sweet taste matching batter colour to the dark colour of these delicious dried fruits can be a boon to health.

Lately, I have tackled the subject of gluten, the protein found in most flours that glorifies all baking. Gluten can oppose the thyroid hormone. They are like sisters. Gut health is paramount to overall health. So choosing 00 flour, processed in Italy, can be that first step to freedom in baking. 

In Italy, wheat gluten is processed traditionally with slower drying and milling methods. How can any of that be wrong? Our gut is kept healthy with this respectful and protective approach to flour milling in Italy. In lieu of this light bulb moment, I have been using Italian 00 flour with abandon. I also learned that Italian flour can have a higher than normal gluten content also. Really? A gentler approach to milling grains in Italy allows the gut to adapt to a weaker gluten network. Good news all around. Here comes pizza, an easy and healthier food with a salad on top.

My 6 year old grandson has taken up making homemade pierogies along side handmade/homemade pasta. He now tastes the difference and loves it.  Cleaning his area is now a new skill he is learning. The small 1 kg. size bag of  00 Italian flour is a perfect size for little hands and perfect for teaching, too. The mess can be contained with parchment paper nearby. He foccuses on dough manipulation and knows that learning and listening go hand in hand. Pretzels and croissants will be the  gold standard in 2025 for us to make.  Maybe holiday baking will simply take place year round. It will if my 6 year old grandson has any say. ......

 

Somewhere Else or In the Kitchen

I entered the pet store to return the puppy food in exchange for the adult version. It was senior's discount day. Though my 'puppy' was 11, the formula for a real pup was too rich for him. I had a question to ask. I looked around and saw Mary, the mother of 3 young boys who was forever happy, always smiling and engaging.

I added more food to my cart having exchanged the pup food then waited. With a lull in activity in this retail pet store, we began to speak. Though my 15-year-old dishwasher stopped working days ago, hers had never been. Mary did not own one. My work schedule at home was a daunting one at times but hers was always daunting, with added dimensions -3 energetic young boys. She accepted whatever came her way with grace and a smile.That was who she was.

She works full time, somehow, while doing all the dishes without 'help'. In my own case the details of the holiday unfolded day by day while the planning of those details, locked inside my head, changed. Cabbage rolls, pierogies, and nothing more. There was no room. We had visited our 3 adult boys, their incredibly talented loving wives and 7 grandchildren. I could rest on the floor with my former 4 legged charge where I belonged. A nap might happen. With Mary, she was here, somewhere else or in the kitchen, a nonstop mover and shaker. She won hearts with every client engagement.

The whole Christmas dinner was hers for the making and she did that with ease and grace. Drinks, anyone? I might but not her. She had lots to do and a clear mind to do it... Being a wife and working mom is work of the highest order demanding precision throughout the day. Glamour rarely belongs in the life of a working mom of 3 but it could, someday. 

All the days of Mary's week are covered. Nothing is left to chance. (She delivers take-out one day a week to finish out her weekly schedule).Whew! She was tired today. So was I just listening to her. I understood, When did sleep fit in? She needed those 7-8 hours but probably used a few doing other  important things

Her smile and perfectly coiffed hair resonates with her audience: the customers who walk in needing dietary pet help with a new puppy or an old one, a garment for this wintry holiday season for the loves in their lives - the dogs and cats they adore. Even the toys for dogs and cats are perfectly displayed for all to see and feel, too. They are perfect gifts for little children, durable, squeaky, soft and huggable teddies of the top quality kind. Mary's boss, the co-owner of this delightful pet emporium, offers me hot apple cider. She was ordering and helping customers, too. When did she have time for that personal touch? Had she the time for sleep, too? I wondered.

Mary's lists never ends, always adjusting, always changing to fit in a time slot that just opened up. Every little thing gets done, though. It has to. That is her family portrait. A quick look in the mirror to check and out comes the cover model ready for all to see. No one knows except other busy moms the labour of love that manifests itself every day. 

These vivid snippets of life for working moms and wives repeat themselves daily because that is the way it is. Modern life is like that, sometimes. A breath of fresh air when storm clouds appear. Mary smiles and is grateful for it all, being ready and available to do what it takes. All challenges accepted. A pleasure to know her.

Mr. Rogan, Just Thinking. ...

I watched the brief clip of you with the president elect, Donald Trump, engaged in friendly banter on your podcast, Mr. Rogan. The relaxed exchange of ideas, thoughts and laughter were a pleasant departure in this age of unsettling digital technology. Later that day, with my adorable 86 pound Wiggler by my side, I heard yet another guest comment on the rule-implied or stated- of your 3-hour conversational limit. In that moment i realized i could fulfill your mandate.

Your podcast is rated #1, worldwide, with a daily audience in the millions. In a month your tally could be in the billions. Wow, what a monumental feat. Mr.Trump opened up a new world for himself by accepting your invitation to appear on your podcast. It was a new age communicating tool for him to explore. It would be for me, also. My message is clear.

Special education has resonated with me for decades. I was asked to join the primary intensive language classroom of the school our 3 boys attended by the primary lead teacher of the class. It was 1994. Yeast dough was born, this educational tool, a 5 sense brain stimulation program for special children. It was higher order thinking at its best.. 

Questioning and language skills were highlighted  because of this new approach and the miracles began to happen. Conversation - not baking- was the intent of this well thought out dough program. Coloring was not on my to do list. And then the revolution began, lasting nearly 5 years. (Other passions - animals, music/dance - integral parts of a healthy learning spec. ed life)

In the Fall of '98,  Dr. Marion Cleeves Diamond, world renown neuroscientist, called me at home early one morning about my higher order thinking program for special children. It was about using yeast dough in the classroom. In her work Dr. Diamond was using mice; I, children in regards to brain stimulation. I was validated that September. (I had written her weeks earlier about her work, similar to mine)

The power for children lies in being able to think for themselves. I became a parent of a preemie son, born over 3 months too soon. The year was 1979. The study of the preterm infant hadn't begun till 1980. Books became my lifeline. Two more sons followed, 3 boys within 4 years, all preterm and ready to play for life.

Core Knowledge, a U.S. lesson sharing teacher organization, garnered my attention one day. It was a futile attempt on my part to connect with them. I tried two years in a row. Letters to 200 U.S. Boards of Ed. followed next with little response..Was the 'thinking' part of my letter that turned them off? I wondered till I wondered no more. Let's play follow the leader, not always but sometimes and only when it makes sense. common sense. Move on, momsey, move on!

My first day as a mom laser focused my life's purpose. It was the day of his homecoming- one month ahead of his original due date at 5 pounds, 2 ounce. What did I want for this tiny human, my son? It was then that I realized that a thinking child was a safer one, a happier one, a smarter one, one who did not need me there to think for him. He would know and it would be one less job for me. My application form was already full! 

What each child desires, if only momentarily, has to matter. Self-worth was on the line. Using 'no' as a standard reply played no part and served no purpose in raising our boys. Giving them the tools for the desired result was always the name of the adult game. You want it, you earn it. Simple and direct. Worked every time. The playing field was uneven: the power structure, one way. The teen years would soon show me the result of my 'no curfews, thinking man's' directive.  And I was just girl.

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As a former secondary school special needs teacher/ music enthusiast,  17 year elementary school parent volunteer, an award winner, pet parent for over 53 years and counting, a grandmother to 7 under 7 and  blogger. Conversation is the cornerstone to success in life. I gave 3 speeches, all humbling and gratifying experiences. I was instructed to write by an 18 year old girl, a musician and company president. Her boyfriend, my son, designed the MomseyBlog- 12 years ago.

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A year ago, during a 2 hour 'junior podcast', we entertained our grandsons, 2 and 5, inside the cavity of an 11-year old Chev. Avalanche parked in an outlet mall. Santa pictures had just been taken. For 2 hours, as mom and dad scurried about to finish their holiday shopping duties, grandpa and baba engaged in conversation with these young 'scientists' with questions and problems, keeping them busy, thinking and actively engaged. The interior of the truck became their playground. With boots removed, the boys climbed, laughed, drew, spoke and queried us all. Being peppered with questions became a game, a comical one at that. 

How many white cars are parked over there, I asked?..How many three wheeled cars are there?("None, of course, baba"). "Why not", I asked? Because......Why are there different numbers painted on the sky high windows of this mall? “Where are we?” “What do you think?” Explain please... “Everything is fine”I replied when mom and dad called, 1 hour later. The fun an unending exercise for all.

With smiling faces and hugs aplenty, they surprised me, again. ”That was the best time ever, baba” Yes, it was my precious boys. It certainly was.

No Added Salt, Please!

I wrote about the sodium in ready made soups weeks ago and how to decrease the sodium content in canned soup by the addition of more water, vegetables and rice to augment the amount of soup thereby reducing the salt per serving. When shortcuts in cooking are mandated, salt's impact on our health can be reduced. But why create the problem in the first place?

Dining out presents a unique sodium conundrum though it shouldn't. Salt might have been added in the kitchen if the request,“no salt added” is not made when ordering. It is my body not yours. High blood pressure is on the rise as we age. It is in everything- excluding fresh produce. Additives are one thing; salt, quite another. Restaurants need to listen.

Years ago while dining out at a Jack Astor's, I ordered french fries, an uncommon side for me , with my entree. One fry was all it took to begin the headache. I spoke to the server then the manager who arrived on scene with another order of fries. Nothing was different. Head office's rules were being followed not mine. Common sense did not win that evening. The argument failed.We did not return.

A customer request for no added salt is no joke. Over the years I have noticed salt's inclusion, to excess, in simple meals that have been salted to excess prior to cooking. Those instances are beyond the cook's control perhaps but not mine. I enjoy cooking but dining out is a welcome change, a special occasion that I treasure. Please leave the diner's food alone. Salting is very personal and dangerous to health. It is my decision not yours.

Food is medicine. Salt reduction is about health not just taste. Do not ignore this simple reminder. As a customer, refusing the dish brought to the table has eliminated your profit margin, already low, I imagine. The competition is fierce but I will go elsewhere. This should not be a journey of discovery. I want to relax and be happy. (A hot dog fills me up just as well and is much cheaper - at home.) I am a good cook but today you're it!

When ordering fish and chips, no salt added, lightly done are expectations - simple and direct. It's my prerogative, is it not? It is about my health nothing more. Over cooking, salting using high heat serve no useful purpose to anyone. My choices are being dismissed. Charbroiled is a euphemism for nicely burnt. (The animals (meat) used to feed us deserve respect for their sacrifice, don't you think? )..

When the sweet potatoes arrived, I was not amused. Fried too long ( burnt around the edges and more) on high heat with added salt, they were returned. I was sad not angry. Even our server had noticed but the cook dismissed her. Did the profit margin for the meal just evaporate at $8 per serving of sweet potatoes? Probably. There is sugar in sweet potatoes, so being mindful of a shorter cooking time and a lower temperature should have been considered. Sweet potatoes fry and bake quicker, too, than their potato cousins, russets, and yellows.

Adjust your heat, Mr Chef, the sugar in this incredible root vegetable, sweet potato, with 25 times the beta carotene of broccoli is a top favourite of mine now. My brilliant 'daughter' introduced me to this delicious addition to my vegetable repertoire, years ago. I was hooked. High heat can and does affect nutrient content, also. 

Finding the place which gives value for foods I love and adore is success of the highest order for me. I want to be here. Please do not send me away because of careless preparation, addition of salt and ridiculously high temperatures used. Simple reminders should not be needed. I am not your boss. You are the chef, after all.

"What She Said!"

I asked a simple question. What she said was surprising. “If the diet is balanced, supplementation is not required. It could make it unbalanced.”. It was so unexpected, this answer of wisdom. Oh so wise, I thought. The conversation ended as quickly as it had begun.

Today our Wiggler, our 11-year-old yellow retriever was receiving laser treatment for his upper body. His doctor's response to my question took only seconds to address but made so much sense. She is after all, a human encyclopedia, my human encyclopedia, our highly sought after veterinarian who has administered to our fleet of retrievers spanning decades.

Doctors are important for those times when we 're not sure. Food is medicine as the saying goes but sometimes we need to move past this and do something quickly and decisively to save a life, or simply to improve health.

Over the years lumps have been a concern. Retrievers seem to be predisposed to them. Our family veterinarian requires one extra step before extracting the fluid from these surface body invaders: the administration of Benedryl, an antihistamine. This over-the-counter drug will calm the neighbouring cells, should they be carcinogenic, thereby reducing the risk of spreading  these potentially cancerous cells within the body. I believe the term is metastasis. When aspiration is required the extra step is a must. She's the best. Not all doctors bother with this extra step. But our vet does and so do I. It's a must. The extraction of body fluid can be done immediately with no waiting or rescheduling of another appt. if benedryl is given 1 hour before the appt. when aspiration might be performed.

Then there was the the matter of the feline prescription diet, many years ago. If the animal refuses to eat the prescribed food then the point of the exercise is lost. Asking for help at the pet store is a must do next step. Even sick animals must eat. Help is on its way. Companies are making better food. Do not deceive us or we will feed them what we eat, forever. With kitty cat's overactive thyroid seafood must be avoided yet she is driven to eat it. Seafood is good choice for me, not for her. Her deadly choices are followed. She is the doctor now, loves it till she vomits. She realizes soon enough that her choices need to change.

Her prescribed diet is nearby offering her the alternative that should be followed.She does until it no longer aids in her healing. End of life is here. Difficulty swallowing has taken over. Greek yogurt fails to help with its special probiotics and high protein.To all pet food companies: if prescription diets are not palatable and yummy, go back to the drawing board. I will have to go elsewhere to find a solution to my pet's crisis. Your solution is no solution at all.

As a pet parent, I have spent most of my life asking critical questions to receive answers keeping my pet healthy and thriving. Maybe a return to table scraps might be in order though the term might have a different connotation to different people. Cats can live to 29. A portuguese dog living in Portugal is in his twenties. I know of a 19-year-old retreiver as active as ever. How incredible is that? And these pets are not eating 'dog food'.

Work on the special diets for those animals whose lives started out in hell and were rescued by caring humans who went above and beyond. Do taste tests till you get it right 'cause if they don't like it they won't eat it. Have a nice day!

If I Were President.......

The American election is on our doorstep. Much is at stake. Safety and basic human rights should be an expectation for all citizens of government, regardless of who is in power. A new government will arise in November, a most important one for the leader of the pack and the rest of the world. Are we on the cusp of electing a new world order, as well?

During these past few months, during a historic election period, two catastrophic hurricanes arrived, one after another, an unimaginable horrific scenario, thrusting the populations of many states into unfathomable life and death events. We watched and we listened as the stories gripped our hearts and minds. How could it happen? It was our neighbour, the mighty United States of America, enduring yet another 'natural' calamity while in the thrust of a consequential election.

The news kept us riveted to Mother Nature's plans as hurricanes bumped into one another, within mere days, with unyielding force never before imagined or experienced. Then the shroud of darkness rolled in as hundreds of tornadoes began their death march upon many unsuspecting communities already buried beneath mud and torrential rain. Crocodiles ended up inside some homes as water found its final nesting place. The landscape bore untold horror as the death toll kept rising.

While remembering the one year anniversary of a massacre in another country, a monumental supply chain strike hit and the lives it affected kept the fear ongoing. Lives were ruined with devastating force, everywhere, in one horrible moment after another. Relentless storm surge after storm surge kept us guessing when it would end but we were in the middle of an election with its characteristic and formidable grip on the minds of the country. It was a different kind of political event, a consequential one, to choose a new leader and government as Mother Nature battled the landscape telling us who was really in charge.

Money spent on election ads, in the multi millions of total dollars, could have been diverted to dramatically alter the landscapes of many communities, struggling, across the land. The nation's progeny could have benefitted. Poverty could have been struck a mighty blow. But the selling of a political idea or the highlighting of a candidate to lead was more important, as it should be..

Common sense seemed to be lacking in some places. Up was down, green was yellow and 2 +2 did not equal 4. But common sense rules the world. Eventually the 'dust' settles and reality appears. Truth is never far behind. 

Mother Nature wreaked havoc everywhere during this horrific American storm season. But she is the master whether we like it or not. Voting only happens when we are able to perform this hard fought right.The election became a footnote in the headlines for a time. Then it was back to normal. The suffering continued while the election campaigns played on. Remember the children! They are marvels to behold and hold the future of any country in their tenancious little hands.

If I were president all water systems across the country would be priority #1, at all times, no expense spared. The human body is mostly water. Without its critical elements bathed in earth's liquid we would simply die. Nothing else would matter. Nothing else could matter!.....All other portfolios would be administered by top candidates in their field of endeavour, if I were president. But I am not. I could never afford the entry 'fees'.

To the greatest show on earth, The United States of America.  All the best to you during this dramatic  period of your history-in-the-making. We await the results with great anticipation.

Breaking Up, Lessons Learned.

Breaking up is hard to do but do not rewrite the script. Time to turn the page. It is too easy to regroup when the one who broke your heart, made you cry for two days, created the worse two days of your life reappears to repair what was done.- weeks later. Never grieve over a betrayal. Forget it then eat ice cream or an Italian rum cake!

The most important quality in any relationship is trust. When that goes so does the rest of the illusionary package. Time to move on. Get over it girls.(or guys) Never moan or bemoan what never was - even if the period in question was nearly 4 years. It is a time to cleanse and reflect. I was so naive.

Being dumped happened to me, once, decades ago, in my early twenties, before online lovelorn entities existed. The online world was a futuristic idea back then. I was a student teacher, working in an upscale bar, part-time. I had my future all figured out. Then it happened. I called him, one evening, wondering where he was. He'd fallen asleep at home then scolded me as he told me we should see other people. I cried for days,wanting to quit my job, school, and life in general then cry some more. After two days, I was bored with my stupidity. Why was I giving him that much power, I asked myself? Crying was doing nothing but make me look sad and puffy. I was wasting precious time. .... Two weeks later, I met a new guy in a casual social setting. The dye was cast. We've been married for over 52 years.

Breaking up with a boyfriend is a shock but easy in the long term. There is no skin in the game for either party. No children. No history or the expense of 2 families meeting and connecting. You simply walk away. Easy peasy. Time is precious and so were my efforts of commitment and caring over nearly four years.. Never return. (His mom never liked me anyway.) Can't beat those odds.) It was a time of self-reflection. Crying, this tedious life draining exercise, was my reward to me. I felt better realizing it was time to stop. Life beckoned. Then came the unexpected. My ex reappeared on my doorstep weeks later..

I had begun seeing a new guy, an older one who had also tired of the dating game. I was a cocktail waitress, then, in the first ever Toronto stand-up bar. That night a customer walked in asking me for cigarettes from the lobby vending machine. My duty did not extend there, I replied. He had been put on notice, I was told by friends with whom he had been seated. My response was understood and appreciated  by them with laughter. Two weeks later my former boyfriend called, wanting another chance. No way. You made the 'call'. I answered it and did what you wanted. Good bye. I could never take that chance with you ever again. My self-esteem had been destroyed in mere minutes on a friendly and dismal phone call one early Saturday night.

Returning to the scene of the crime with the same actor is not an experience worth igniting. Trust has been shattered. Though my ex was surprised I was no longer interested. I could never trust him again, not ever. The dating game with him had offered up its most painful lesson. I had changed and had moved on never to re-visit that period again. 

Life is hard enough without wondering when the betrayal would happen again. There so many other guys ready to treasure who you are and respect you. Imagine that! Time to focus on new things and meeting new people. A short period of cleansing followed. .... I was okay being by myself, no longer thinking that a boyfriend was a necessary add-on in my life. My feelings mattered, too. Being betrayed and dismissed so easily and so early in life was a good thing in disguise 'cause later, I realized that being alone wasn't so bad after all just different. Powerful medicine for me!

The Apples are Calling

He just stood there, this 85 pound retriever 'puppy,' tail wagging steadily but evenly, in slow motion, reminding me that more was yet to come. Was I going to react and do his bidding, soon, he wondered? I smiled at the moment, its predictable reminder. The apples are calling. The apples are calling.

It had been another busy day. In and out with this 11-year-old seemed to be an exercise in futility when bunny droppings lay hidden. Openings in our high chain link fence did not deter these little munchkins. They always came through the fence via the 'basement doors' If our Wiggler saw mommy rabbit, he'd run but she ran faster without breaking a sweat. It was exhausting work in many different ways. As time passed, I realized that this member of the rabbit species was also a helpful ally. She became his coach, helping to jump start his metabolism. Chasing her became his job and helped in weight loss.

In the house we encouraged our wiggler to fetch and carry, keeping him moving even when apple time was near. A toss onto his bed would encourage a brisk walk to fetch this fruity edible 'toy'. It was his addiction. He wanted me to know it was his as he walked back and forth. He was ready. Holding this prize made him so happy. It's nutrients and calorie counter benefits were my secrets; its delicious mind-numbing taste, his. 

Apples were akin to a zero calorie food. The calories it contained equalled the calories it took to digest it. With few teeth in place, our boy needed help to chew each morsel. An oral disease of unknown origin affected the roots of those enamel chompers. Few teeth remained. Many had been extracted and a new way of eating apples found.  I would hold it while he chewed being careful to avoid the core full of seeds of the poisonous kind. Where there is a will there is a way.

Our wiggler is happiest carrying the object of his affection and addiction. He knows its aroma and the word. Knowing they would soon to be offered, a thrice daily offering to our sweet boy, this fruit would stop him in mid run or walk. “Would you like an apple?” A run to the door would result. 

Apples of all types come calling. Red or green. A recent haul of freshly picked organic honey crisp apples has the Wiggler wondering what is in those bags that are so sweet smelling. “Go pick one, my boy.” He looks inside in wonder. I choose one for him. He is so pleased with his catch then walks and walks showing us his prize. We know and understand, encouraging him in his latest bout of exercise. He walks up to me and drops it into my hand then devours it down to the core. Another day another round of apples. Life cannot be get better than this. I know little man. I know.

"No, It's Not Kibble"

Kibble used to be a poor quality dry food for dogs. In the 70's it was the choice of limited quality. Decades ago, the selection in the pet food industry was poor, limited to half an aisle in most grocery stores. We were first time pet owners, then, to a rescue Labrador retriever and her brand new son. Over the span of 5 decades. I became a pet food detective. Inventory was questionable with additives of the horrible kind. Why was sugar ever included?

Dogs' dietary needs were never supposed to be sugar laden unless the pet owner thought it wise to offer a pizza crust, white bread or some other empty caloric foods to puppy. Cooked bones were the worst as they could splinter inside and cause bleeding or worse. We trusted the whole pet food industry until early 2000 when our world fell apart. Our pets trusted us until 'someone' decided to destroy that trust and hundreds or thousands of pets in the process. My, how times have changed. 

A current commercial comparing all dry pet foods to kibble would have us all believe that all dry foods are in fact the kibble of the past. Enough already.They are not. Since the melamine pet food scandal of 2007, the quality of pet food has grown. Homemade can't be beat unless the pet owner 'cooks' without thought. More and more pet food is being made in house, locally, or in Canada or United States. Some new brands are being produced in Italy and Ireland, too. Quality has risen over the decades as it must. The Canadian Pet food chain, Global Pets, has my back. 

The pet food scandal that erupted around the world, decades ago, resulting in the deaths of many dog and cats shook the pet world. Melamine was a thickener, a protein mimicker,the additive added for the pet food to look like the real deal. Dogs and cats died horrible deaths. Like most scandals, profit/money was the root of all that evil. 

At global Pets in Keswick, Ontario, the owners have advised me throughout the decades. Advice to vary food choices to reduce possible allergic reactions from eating the same food, day in day out, has directed my choices. I'm smarter too. Keeping 'dry' dog food in its original bag helps to preserve its freshness. Rancidity is lessened. The oils in the food react with the metal pail liner regardless of how clean the pail might be. Placing whole bag into the pail is the better way.

Food is medicine for humans. Well, those same words also apply to the ready-to-eat dinners for sale for our precious puppies of all ages. Some food - dry form or in cans- are created according to the DNA prescription of many breeds. How cool is that? Furthermore, there are supplements to augment the health of our pets, too, along side the fruits and veggies - daily shareable snacks - to eat with our furry loved ones. But there are forbidden foods such as grapes, onions, garlic, pizza crust and more that exist, too. Be very careful. Know them and avoid those treacherous lures. 

Test your food choice for its nutritional truth. A blood test will reveal it, unconditionally. Science does not lie. It cannot. Can kibble stand up to the same scrutiny? You will soon know.

 

 

Shall We Make Noodles?

The special box of chocolate ship cookies arrived with no intention, a little something after the grandchildren had eaten real food, the pyramid ones, first. Out of nowhere came the request from a much older 'child', his dad, to make noodles. Off we went.

The cookie balls were done. They waited to be baked for a treat later. Gluten free was the order of the day. My 6-year-old grandson was ready. The noodle agenda became an almost 4 hours task but time seemed to fly by with him. He and his younger brother had been ill for the past week or so. It was time to move beyond liquid diets. The body was beginning to tell them so.

The noodle ingredients were brought to the table. Not many, of course. Few ingredients are found in homemade noodles: a basic flour, eggs, water, salt. Noodles are labour intensive when made by hand. (No machine for the child-in-training). We proceeded slowly, using words to showcase the talent that lay before us. My grandson loves learning everything and anything, from garter snakes, baseball, soccer to woodpeckers and more. His mom is a French Immersion teacher, always on call with her boys. Children learn 24/7.

Touching this dough, a 4-sense experience, through its many steps, is a labour of love, an awakening of creativity to a new world waiting inside the young human mind. Focus and paying attention are the order of the moment. Learning happens when those two qualities are in play. For the very young, touch is everything. (The yeasted dough is a 5-sense learning experience) Doughnuts, anyone?

The eggs were beaten. A quick demo from me and off he went scrambling them in the large bowl destined for added flour. My 6-year-old was so attentive. I told him about the power he had in making this food for himself, later, with mom and dad's supervision. The more he could do for himself in the kitchen, the wealthier and healthier he would be later. The cost of all foods served in diners, fast-food and high-end restaurants, in general, is higher because of the unseen labour costs and personal attention of the wait staff included in the cost of the meal ordered. You see the food but not the labour to make it. Wealth was found in the kitchen.

As time passed, the little one was getting tired. It was time for him to go and eat. He had been sick this past week and now was just beginning to feel better. Making homemade noodles was a good idea spawned by dad, but now it was over. Time for me to move on to simpler things alone.

I finished then allowed the dough to rest, then rolled each piece of the rested dough into thin circles. I then gently rolled each circle into a log after log then gently slice each one into thin shreds of incredible delight- noodles. As he watched he could see the deliciousness next to him. The thin strings of egg noodles were left on a wooden board to sit and dry till needed. In the past flour was used to keep the mass of freshly cut noodles from sticking together. Now, it was parchment paper the greatest invention for baking, the rising of dough or cutting of delicious noodles

Everything made today left an indelible mark on my grandson and his younger brother, aged 3. A new thing had been introduced into his young life, something he would be eating for the rest of it. New vocabulary tagged along with this new event. Whenever I am teaching children the how to's of noodle making, pizza, doughnuts or perogies, their creations somehow just taste better. So much better than mine. Sous chefs in the making? Oh my. Yes!

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It Began as a Trickle

It was just a trickle. Then the rainstorm began its deluge. I knew the next step. Darkness would descend upon us, momentarily, then the familiar power outage would follow. It would be one of the worst in our area - Ontario, Canada. 

Regardless of what type and duration, outages are moments of terror, cutting us off from civilization and being left in the dark. We are left wondering, hoping mother nature and urbanization will co-operate and allow us to live again the way we did moments ago. 

The howling had begun in the evening, with lights flickering and the ball game we'd been watching, a suddenly distant memory. Hopefully power would be restored within a few hours. I loved baseball. We waited as the rainfall, looking more like a sudden raging snowfall in winter, began its trek outside. It was the worst summer rainstorm I'd experienced, ever. It was frightful, actually.Those raindrops meant business. 

This past winter had been a mild transition with only 2 storms identified as a blizzard. Really? Over a few hours or a few minutes, I could not recall this blast of winter. It was laughable. It would be the warmest and driest on record, I think. But tonight's summer storm was different. 

An amber alert had been issued: a tornado was likely, hovering in this area of the province. Could we have felt its malevolence close by? Suddenly the status of our summer circumstances was becoming dire. 

A power line on our driveway was waiting for us, brought down when a tree, an old and inconsequential one, fell on it. Stay inside we were told from those who worked for the Public Works Department in our local community. Until the live wire could be repaired we could do nothing but wait inside. Without power, there was no water. So we waited. After 41 hours, power was restored and the community began its cleanup. 

An event such as this was tame when compared to other dreadful natural disasters, such as hurricanes and tornadoes, are added to the mix in other countries. The cost to the communities affected there is incalculable. When water and the power needed to 'produce' returned, the shower that followed was simply the best ever. Simply the best!

"Will You Play with Me?"

Looking bewildered and forlorn, the little guy just stood there in the 'watery mote' of the inflatable castle. Our eyes locked. I could not believe my ears when he spoke. “Will you play with me”? I stood there so still, not quite sure what he had said. I asked him to repeat his words. Out they came again.

He was only 3 but knew he needed help. He asked his grandmother to play, a request rarely heard by a grandmother. My heart was touched to its inner core. I could not believe what I had heard. I wanted to cry.

A day of silly had already begun when we appeared in the early afternoon that day, a few weeks ago. A barbecue had been planned. I had brought a few side dishes for this Father's day gathering. It seemed like any other occasion when family met. Any excuse to connect with our children was always a reason to rejoice. This youngest version of our extended family had been busy sliding down the water covered slide attached to the massive, colourful, inflatable castle. With four boys abounding, supervision was in full gear.

The adults in attendance watched in amazement at the unending climbing, running and laughter of the young children, my grandchildren, bouncing all around, on top and beside this monstrous inflatable medieval structure with its own mote for their daring escapes. (The dining room was further afield on the grass.) The food would soon arrive. Dad was in the throes of barbecuing. Yum would soon be here. Rules were in effect as always. Respecting others and being careful was #1 on the list for all.

Soon another child appeared. Nap time had delayed her entrance to the party. Her brothers had arrived earlier. Though dainty and cute my one- year-old granddaughter could hold her own. Her associate, Zeus, the German Shepherd pup, lay nearby ready to frolic on a moment's notice. She was fearless but ready to jump in wherever needed. She knew all the rules. Her engaging smile melted the hearts watching her move, steadily. The ground beneath her was uneven and lush yet she managed to hold firm as she roamed the earth, real or imagined. The sunny afternoon had captured her attention.

My 'Will you play with me?”grandson had gone on to play with others, better equipped and experienced to do his bidding. After all, play was a special kind of work. Maybe next time I will know what to do in the shadow of a castle. All I could think of then was a water fight. Who would want that?

"In the Shadow of Greatness and Courage"

The photo had been taken. It was now named. It had to be and I had to do it. They belonged to me. In a place where children learn to skate, this grand picture had been seen in the mind of the photographer. Click went the camera. This picture would soon be mine in a place of honor for all to see.

I teared up. I was their proud grandmother. It struck me like lightening. Under the distant florescent light, stationed on the ice, sat the mammoth machine called a Zamboni. In front of it, 4 child-like figures, shadows more likely, watched in awe, through the huge picture window inside the arena stage. Oh My, I thought. This was living art.

This newest crop of skaters, 2 pairs of very young male cousins, were fascinated by this new moving machine in front of them. The Zamboni was massive and truck-like, something they were all familiar with and intrigued about. A picture had been taken of this moment in time. What struck me was the position of these photogenic beauties: only their backs could be seen, their faces unseen, these shadows of greatness. I was so moved. A copy of this picture would be hung in a place of honour, I knew. This new generation, aged 7,6, 4 &3, was up close and flourishing. My heart had been touched.

A few months ago, our local public figure had invited the community to a  free two-hour skate. This well-attended event, with hot chocolate being offered, included close family members.  It would be a delightful Saturday afternoon for the four inseparable cousins, their dads and grandpa. The other grandchildren, all girls, aged 3,1,1, were too young for this adventure. Next year, perhaps? Their grandfather would attend today. 

Being with his grandchildren made grandpa happy and proud. They were all a part of him, too. Unlike Momsey, grandpa could skate and well he did. In his youth, he could have qualified for a look-see in the NHL. A musician in the NHL? Why not? But today it was simply a relaxing, fun time with family at his side at the local arena.

Upon viewing the picture of that indoor scene taken that January, - 4 little boys, in various dramatic standing poses, with uneven heights and backs towards the viewing audience - I felt its impact. I needed that picture. I had fallen in love, again.

I knew where it would hang, how large it would be. It would be the first thing anyone saw upon entering the room. It would remind us all of the brilliance, camaraderie, and love found in the children we all are so very lucky to have in our lives. Children connect us to life! All it took was a camera, with genius on one end, to tell the story. In one thousand words or less, a photo said it all, simply and with love. ...

The Sixth Sense- (Proprioception)

Twelve years ago in a post about the 5 senses of the body, a 6^th sense was mentioned as important as the other 5 - sight, touch, hearing, taste and smell. Movement or proprioception as it is called is an important sense like no other. It involves the whole body and its 'placement' in the daily world in which we live, move and learn.

In today's modern world, the study of proprioception - the 6^th sense - is slowly taking root. It is an important learning support as are the other 5 well known senses. Self-confidence emanates from the body's ability to move in perfect synchrony. Sports, dancing and just plane walking are significant in our learning game, especially for children. Synchrony is the goal and is as important as algebra and reading.

Having an awareness of movement is critical to the growth and development of children, both intellectually and physically. Could 'dancing' factor in to this equation? The 'sit still' directive made to young children in class, might be misdirection. Busy children are busy for a reason. It is an inherent phase in which they live, breathe, grow and learn.

When I was a little girl, proprioception was probably ignored for little boys. Their right to move about might have been stymied. No one thought of their right to move. Their DNA spoke and off they went in the school yard or at home with boundless energy. Though recess was mandated 5 days a week during the school hours, did anyone fully understand the critical importance of this active period of the school day for young children? ... The moving body learns through repetition. Confidence builds in appropriate extraordinary ways. Now we understand how exercise - the moving body- impacts everything in life - health, learning and success.

Today's scientists studying proprioception understand this critical component of the living body. Even our Mr. Wiggles is expected to run, play and fetch on a daily basis. Choreographed  and random movement is central to his life as a dog, a moving creature that never ceases to amaze. And if he cannot I have a problem as does he. 

Proprioception is central to his health, strength and longevity. It is central to all humans. Though Mr. Wiggles' sister of 14 years is no longer with us, having died last July, her presence aided in his physical and cognitive development as well as her own. They have impacted my own proprioception, too. My 'Sally' would have turned 15 in September. She was at the top of her game in my life and heart.

Couch potatoes have no place in our daily moving and learning lives. Have we relegated the concept of proprioception to the bottom of the list? I hope not. It is a central feature of lifelong learning, health and self awareness, beginning with the youngest among us, babies, children and dogs.

Those Intruding Commercials!

Those intruding commercials. What a nuisance they have become. Advertisers have no problems showing their product or service during a show or movie we are watching. When does it stop? Or will it? In your obsession of profit at all costs you are losing my support.

I fully comprehend the importance of advertising. We all do. But the decision to suddenly interfere while a movie or show is being watched is unbelievable, an act of defiance. Is it in your business plan to annoy your customer base by having us share half of the screen space with your product or service shots? Is that what watching television has become today? Money. Money. An endless invasion of our personal space. When does it stop?

In the beginning of a program, the commercials are fewer to entice the audience to watch. Then the perversion begins. (A three hour movie at the theaters does not exist). It is usually only two hours or less. Once invested in the movie we are not going to change channels - 10-20 minutes before the end, regardless of the interruptions. That will not happen. The movie becomes tedious to watch now. A program I watched had its ending suddenly stop, upended by too many commercials. There was no ending for the audience -me!  Thank goodness for the mute button, a mere consolation prize for us.

Movies for the television audience have been lengthened. Networks have bills to pay, obviously. The 2 hour theater movie now becomes a three-hour made-for-T.V. commitment with an exaggerated add-on, by the side or top of the  television screen.. How unsightly! How unseemly! Love it or leave it. The decision is ours to make.

Thank goodness for taped programs. Time stands still for no one while being a precious commodity as well. Infusing all shows with one enticement after enticement to buy, buy eventually exhausts us all. There is no more money in the bank. We're tired and the consumer will revolt. The winner will be decided. Guess who?

Dialing Down the Sodium!

As I read the labels of canned soups, I was left wondering. Are they aware of the deleterious effects of excessive sodium chloride (salt) in processed foods on our health? High levels of this 'spice' is found everywhere. So stop it! It's not nice and is unhealthy!

I was comforted by the fact that a majority of the soup for dinner that night would be my soup not theirs. The simple ingredients called vegetables were there. 'Real stuff' they keep telling us. Fake food pretending to be real?

The sodium amount in the can would be reduced considerably because I was adding more water to increase volume thereby reducing salt per serving. The soup 'du jour' was pea soup, the delicious soup I have adored since childhood. The brand I was using had several versions of this pea soup line-up. I had bought the one with the simplest recipe. I would add my own ingredients called vegetables, healthier with a plan in mind.

Into the pot went a small amount of water, diced carrots, cubed potatoes, celery (lots) and onions. Next came the pricey organic bay leaf. Its impact on overall taste is noticeable. So I only use organic. Once the diced vegetables were nearly cooked I emptied the can of pea soup into the pot, mixing the contents of the can well to make my version of pea soup. (Ham can be added if desired).

I noticed that the soup seemed thin, watered down as I mixed it. Had I added too much water? I thought for a moment, then peeled, soaked, then diced, in large cube sizes, yellow potatoes to help add flavour and thicken the soup. (No need to add flour, gluten-free or not.) Potatoes are the best thickener for any soup or stew. And they taste superb no matter how we eat them. Two or three might be enough, depending upon size. Pot size will also help to decide amount of soup you want to 'expand' as leftovers. You're the boss.

I tasted the new pea soup. But something was still missing. So into boiling water in another pot went the homemade spaetzle. (I love this german noodle - eggs, flour and water - in all my soups, especially chicken noodle.) My accessory for making this noodle was broken so I used a grater with very large holes to determine size, turned it over, added a small amount of dough on top, forcing it through with a small metal lifter over boiling water. It cooked for a few minutes till done, was drained, then added to the finished product and mixed. Oh so delicious. But still something was missing. So I added nutmeg to the soup. I had forgotten to add it to the egg dough. So into the soup it went. This last minute addition was important. What a difference! What a pot of yum.

Personal touches to anything in a can is possible thereby reducing the salt by increasing the volume with more water, fresh and frozen vegetables to supercharges the soup in every way. If the salt is excessive in a processed product 'revise' the recipe. Lower the sodium amount. With canned meat I run cold water over it in a colander in  the sink. Juice half a lemon and pour over slices that have been cut. Lemon juice helps to 'remove' the nitrites -(cancer causing) - used as a preservative in meats. Salt is minimized, too. The tang of lemon lingers but after a while the taste is a healthy welcome change.

In restaurants, the salty meal arrives. Salt has been added when not requested. Send the meal back. That costly lesson will be noticed. So will our health when salt is used with caution and respect.

The Mechanic and the Surgeon

As we drove to the auto shop on Woodbine, I thought about the similarities of a surgeon and auto mechanic boss. Both deal with life and death everyday. Both are responsible for the outcomes in each case. I thought of the mechanic we deal with. Problems arise with vehicles, all the time. Sometimes these problems are a mystery. Having 'broken down' in the middle of a busy road, one morning, months ago, near the main intersection during morning rush hour was a moment of horror. One wrong move from traffic or me and I could be in the coroner's 'office'. 

I could sense that my car was dialing down seconds before that moment when it simply stopped working. I shook momentarily before I slowly drove it to the side, hazard lights flashing. Thankfully, my out-of-date, still working, low battery flip-phone, allowed me to call my husband first, my son, second - if he was in the area, then my mechanical 'doctor'. I was shocked my phone let me do all of this before time ran out on it. I guess the original problem was still with us, I thought. 

I did not know what was going on and I was the owner of this 'tank' for nearly 20 years. It had failed me again. Why? Road side service arrived. It had been only a few days since my car had been returned to us. Now what? That first part sent was sent in error. And it took time for that to happen, of course. But still this was not a crisis. Help had been here in all forms. At least my Mr. Wiggles was at home, safe and sound, unlike his first step into automobile breakdowns.

I had not expected my antique phone to accommodate me that morning for three calls. But it did. I was shocked. And at 27 years, not bad. Mr. Tony Robbins, coach extraordinaire/investor, reminded an on-air audience, recently, that buying a new phone every year did not bode well for financial acuity. The money invested - each year - during a 20 year period, if invested smartly, could net over $200,000. My. My. A new phone or financial security. The answer is clear. And mine was just fine. It was a relic of the past. So what. I'm not!

The car was serviced again, then off we went home - for a few kilometres. Again? No kidding. This time my husband had been following me home. In short order he was here along with two mechanics one of whom had nurtured my car for many days. He was upset and most apologetic without saying so. My 'tank' was slowly becoming an enigma. Then another part, inbedded deep inside and rusted through, had been found, tormenting us all along. More wait times and a new part to install. Would normalcy ever return? 

I trust my mechanic, the master of all things mysterious in vehicles, large and small. He is like a surgeon discovering the problem, ordering the parts and installing everything correctly. Lives depend upon his team of magicians. When my car stopped on a main road, then on a secondary one, then near a rush hour intersection, just for laughs, I knew help was near. I was lucky in so many ways and comforted knowing these mechanical experts knew what they were doing. I certainly did not. Thank you, guys for your comfort, your knowledge and experience. Where would we all be without you? Nowhere, probably. And stranded by the side of the road, again.

 

Core Knowledge: Update!

I have wondered, from time to time, why my lesson plans were declined. Decades ago, I had the pleasure of finding the web site of the American educational powerhouse, Core Knowledge, a place that encouraged teachers from across the country to share lesson plans. I was new to the online world and too busy with home life to begin to know what to do with this new direction. But I had to try. I knew too much to keep it to myself. I thought about that moment the other day and decided to give it another go. Times have changed and I never give up.

Though a Canadian, former special needs high school teacher and 'award' winning parent volunteer, I submitted my plans only to be declined two years in a row by the powerhouse, Core Knowledge. Yeast dough really worked its magic on those deemed special education. Was it not special enough?, I wondered at the time. The elementary school where our former preemie boys attended thought this dough was quite remarkable. The principal and the primary intensive language teacher were excited to see the miracles happen. The teacher also happened to be the primary lead teacher of this school. Student lives were beginning to change. And so was mine.

I wondered if the lack of money-maker status was the reason no one wanted to further investigate yeast dough and its powerful effect on. Profit was never a motivator. Lost student potential was.

The best inclusive educational idea should be easily available to all requesting it. Time standstill for no one. Children's formative childhood is precious, oh so precious. Was it the mess that educators feared when working with yeast dough? It was a gym class to behold, among other things.  Gluten was here, up close and very personal. It was an all-inclusive curriculum wrapped up in yeasted dough. The students eagerly awaited those mornings.

Early learning is messy and noisy, at times. Had I submitted something that simply made no sense to anyone? The class was learning to bake, using all five senses of the body. (They say there is a sixth sense -proprioception.) For me and the teacher, these little humans were immersed in the exciting world of thought. Children cannot think abstractly. Dough, in all of its manifestations, was showing them the way.

In Momsey's world, yeast dough, as written about early on in my blogging career -beginning in 2012 - was about freedom of expression, questioning and the confidence to stand and be heard. Learning took root immediately. 

Children with special needs require an educational approach that is exciting, thought provoking and just plain fun. Is that not the purpose of learning for all? Every attempt to stimulate the young learning mind must be done and yeast dough does it every time.

Soon, my child-like, puppy dog mind will begin anew.

When the Hissing Stopped

 

As I listened for the familiar sound to begin, I soon realized it was not going to happen. The hissing had stopped. My plans had changed. A new pressure cooker was now on my list.

The magical touch in developing intense flavour, nutrient retention and broth making would soon end. The tiny rubber/silicone devices sitting atop the pot's lid had cracked, split or de-rubberized. I do not know. Replacements were needed. How much these items would cost would determine whether a new pot would be purchased.

A pressure cooker can turn frozen meat into tender stew within one hour or less, I discovered decades earlier. It was the miracle pot in the kitchen back then, still is, the opposite approach to slow cooking.

Take-out is beginning to lose favour with us for simple reasons. Others responsible for preparing and packing our special takeout orders do not seem to care. The soup is diluted creating 'more' to sell! But the flavour is diluted as well. Adding extra salt to the food I'm buying is my business not yours. Why do you do it, Mr. Cook? And where are those mixed vegetables in that soup? If the garlic toast with cheese is burnt on top with the panini bun black on bottom, did you think I was not going to notice? 

Other options are out there and we're looking. Aggravation is the least attractive quality in any restaurant. Home cooking with my pressure cooker is mighty fine. Our first cooker was made of aluminum with all those loose silicone parts on top indicating pressure was on and cooking had begun. As time passed, stainless steel took over. We bought the healthier alternative: stainless steel. 

As I learned about the cooker's health benefits, not to mention its time and savings benefits, it became an mainstay in my kitchen. A current new model, a smaller one by Presto, is simply cute. It is easy to use for smaller amounts and a familiar face on my stove today. My other 'appliance' will be on standby till we can buy the small external parts for its reinstatement on the stove. Magnificent they both are.

I believe the dishwasher aided in the rubber parts decomposition. Even though the lid was on the top shelf inside the washer, over time the heat was too intense, perhaps. Maybe I will need to wash by hand. No problem. It beats the time wasted waiting for poor quality food in dining establishments.

Self-Checkout

As I waited in line I looked to see how many shoppers were behind me. There were four. Only one cashier was on duty but the self-check out aisle, next door, was alive with customers acting like the employees they were not.

I asked one gentleman to go ahead of me but he declined. The woman between us should go next but she was not here. So we stood. As my turn began, I packed my groceries as quickly as possible, hoping to expedite the process. The shoppers behind me were busy people and waiting for one cashier to get moving was not helpful at all.

I approached customer service to inform the manager of this day's visit to the store.

“I understand the philosophy of self-checkout. In the beginning, it was a novice way for shoppers to get out quickly when a few items were all they had to buy. Self checkout made sense. Line-ups do not serve business or the customer base well.

Nowadays, however, while one 'assistant' cashier serves to help those customers use these high tech registers to get moving quickly, others are waiting patiently, waiting to check out at the other cash register lane. Have you no respect for your customers, Mr. Store? It is Thursday the day before the weekend is to begin. What is your reasoning here? I'm curious - one cashier for the remaining customers, some of whom will never use the 'self-serve' way. You are hoping, perhaps, to instill this mind set to others not wanting to work for nothing while abdicating your responsibility to staff the store adequately.

A hostile climate is building for those customers stuck in the only 'professional' check out lane when one shopper has a full cart and others do not. Letting people in helps for a while. But eventually the ice-cream product I have in my cart will melt and I need to go home. Then what? There goes your profit, the slim margin under which you operate." That is simply unacceptable.

You are taking advantage of your customer base and you know it! We are now your employee for the duration of our visit to your store. Where's the discount when we do the work of your trained cashiers not on duty? One cashier on duty is a total disregard to the people who shop at your store. Keeping us waiting like we have nothing better to do is a total lack of respect for us. Eventually, however.......

On the job training is not what we expect when we grocery shop. Stop the manipulation. One cashier on duty in the other lane is a slap in the face to those who are left behind with some groceries warming up and others slowly melting." 

Getting shoppers out quickly should be your game plan. Respect us or we will go elsewhere.  And what are you telling your cashiers? Hours are slashed; benefits, too. How do part-time wages pay for full time living expenses. Think about what you are doing. Your customers and staff deserve that much. Have a good day.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Caper

It finally happened. Over 50 years of pet ownership of retrievers, the do not feed list hit us without warning. A tray of chocolate chip cookie balls, ready to be baked, got the attention of gentle Mr. Wiggles. I was mortified. Was he going to collapse before me?

I had been reformulating a recipe and simply forgot to refrigerate them. But Mr. Wiggles, our 85 pound yellow retriever with a platelet problem, had not. He thought he'd help, too, devouring 9 one-inch balls of raw dough. Panic set in. Had I accidentally killed him? Dark chocolate is a potential killer of dogs, a no-no on the don't feed this to dogs list.

The online recommendation to not induce vomiting at home was easy. I wasn't going to do it. Why would I? How would I do it and what would I use to do it with, anyway. I had never done this before and wasn't going to start practicing now on my precocious pup. Watch him, I was told. So I did till 3:00 am the next morning, treating him like a patient with a concussion. I woke him every 2 hours simply to observe him in all manner of movement. If he stumbled, fell, cried out, vomited etc., a trip to the hospital would be warranted.

It was 8 hours later and he seemed fine. But what do I know? The chocolate chips and raw dough were now inside of him inflicting damage upon him, somehow, I reasoned. A sample of his urine was brought in that morning to the animal clinic for observation. I figured any biological sample might aid in determining any colour abnormalities in the urine, 6 hours old. It all made sense to me. A brief check-up and blood test soon followed. A new urine sample next week would be tested, just to be sure. The U.S. Poison Control Center had been a critical first step in this investigation and they were not concerned. So far everything seemed fine.

The 3 day long weekend made the medical emergency more unsettling. Pet emergencies only seem to happen on those days inaccessible to the family veterinarian. We watched him 24/7 till the clinic opened in two days.

I am now waiting further results of another follow-up sterile sample just to be sure. No surprises are expected. Cookie monster has passed the test with flying colours and made me happy that my carelessness did not hurt him or worse. At least the dough was organic and gluten-free. In this instance, it did not matter.

Stop the Waste

Twenty minutes remained before the lunch period was over. Could we change their minds this one time? We entered. The manager, Eric, said yes. Our wish had been granted. In we went, excited to have been allowed to enter, with short notice, Mandarin style.

The hot and cold stations needed cleaning. It was near 3:00 p.m.. We were in the way, we knew. Yet here was the manager, Eric, helping us make our selections. It was Chinese New Year and our favourite foods, dim sum, were available, for another month. I was overjoyed. In no time we were seated and on our way to the hot tables.

A pot of jasmine tea had been made, ready for our enjoyment. Within a half hour we were done, having chosen a main course, soup and a dessert, the simple, yet delicious creme brulee. We left quickly, surprising the staff, after being allowed in when normally no one would have been permitted as the staff geared up for the dinner rush.

Today's visit was quick and clean. And why shouldn't it have been? Our Mr.Wiggles was alone at home. We had a deadline too. (His 14-year-old sister, Sally, had died last summer.) He loved company.  Pet owners understand. But our visit at this favourite dining spot, the Mandarin, a chain of buffet restaurants in Canada, filled an immediate need: no waiting, limitless choices at an all-inclusive price. 

In this quiet interlude, I was reminded, sadly, of other times where the freedom of choice at all-you-can-eats has become a hideous abuse of power. Decades ago, the introduction of these trendy buffets was an exciting and welcoming change in both the United States and Canada. Some chains are now slowly disappearing. I wonder why? 

It is great trying new foods prepared by trained chefs while skilled wait staff hover near us to keep our tables (and customers, too) clean and food stations - hot or cold - filled to capacity. Nowadays, it is a troubling display of excessive hoarding of food for some patrons as they endeavour to pile it on, trip after trip, to the buffet leaving troubling amounts of food on plates to be removed, discarded like trash. Why is so much taken? Our duty is simple: eat what you choose. Survey the food landscape first. Our bodies - not our eyes- tell us when we are full.

Where is the respect for all the animals who died to provide us with the most sought after proteins? Discarding overfilled plates is both costly and irresponsible! Then we order water - at no charge -  and forget to even drink it. Not nice! 

Inconsiderate behaviour, coupled with the mindless wasting of food is not what All You Can Eat is about. Bankruptcy is just around the corner for these entrepreneurs whose buffet profile for the public is backfiring big time. Arrogance is not cool!

When our sons were young, rules were set for dining out. Different restaurant profiles; different rules. Non-compliance meant a no-return policy until lessons were learned. Simple and non-negotiable. At buffets, each child chose 3 foods on their first trip, 3 on their second, but a different trio this time. Freedom to choose where food is concerned is both an aphrodisiac and a privilege!

Young children have small stomachs. Returned trips were permitted with restrictions. Desserts were permitted - if it made sense. By this time hunger was gone and intention took over. An enjoyable moment made possible by many people working, tirelessly, on our behalf, 24/7. Show respect and gratitude. It is not too much to ask.

Those Rice Krispie Squares

It's New Year's Eve day when we arrive for our special visit. I approach the kitchen wondering what is happening? Had I arrived to a podcast of “Making Rice Krispie Squares”?

Mom and dad were in the throes of this iconic, easy to follow recipe, with its modern day twist, tastier and healthier, too. Their two-year-old daughter was watching or directing. Hard to tell. A new approach involved more fat and less sweetener, a healthier fit 'cause fewer marshmallows were being incorporated.

Sugar is the nemesis in our diet, We all know it but can't escape it, at times. Why put more 'sugar' in this famous dessert than is necessary when a dollop of grass fed butter ups the taste and health factor. Organic rice cereal was being used. 

There are no rules covering baking just the will to improve when improvements make sense. Suddenly 'eyeballs' appeared, those necessary add-ins to these Rice Krispie creations. Of course, I thought, where have I been? My granddaughter needed just one more 'eyeball', she said. “Just one” 'they' replied, in unison.

I sat there on the kitchen island stool, watching this modern day discourse. And it wasn't even Hallowe'en.

Who decides to make Rice Krispie squares on New Year's Eve? They did. I was intrigued. “Would you like salami with that?”, her dad asked. “Really”? “Now what, salami?” Where did that come from? I looked at the clock. It was noon. We had arrived for lunch, I guess. I said nothing. I was simply soaking up the quiet, inquisitive exchange among the cast members of this curious family play.

Watching was more fun than questioning. It was magic on stage as the 'eyeballs' seemed to take center stage along with the salami. Then came a few questions. What was the brand of salami?. What kind of marshmallows? Some are made using pork gelatin. The Walmart brand being used had none. In this moment of learning, I wanted to know more.

Grandpa said nothing, hoping, however, that a few treats might come his way now and when we left. The biggest kid in the room was being indulged. He was, after all, his granddaughter's current favorite person. And Rice Krispie squares just happened to be there.