Posts Tagged "mom"

I am addicted to recipe books. My gram likes to remind me that when I was a kid I told her “if you can read, you can cook” and I still believe it today. You may not have the best technique in the world, but a good cookbook will take you pretty far in the kitchen.I love to cook. I love to bake. I love to feed my friends and family. I love to go food shopping. It’s a wonder I am not twenty times the size of the house. I think I have over a hundred cookbooks all told, and my collection just keeps growing. Most are dogeared and written in and well loved. Some were my mothers (whose idea of cooking was dialing the telephone) and some we my grams. Some I picked up on a whim and turned out to be a gem. Some I’ve never made a thing out of but they sure are a good read. Some are stored outside in the garage because my bookshelf is overflowing. I read them like books. Some of the newer ones are books that just happen to have recipes thrown in for good measure. Those are the best kind.

We don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day, just because Michael makes sure to tell me every day that he loves me, and I do the same. It’s not a once-a-year type thing. You should celebrate your love for the people in your life every day. While some of the people I love are so very far away, they might fall by the wayside now and again, I try to let them know at other times of the year. I feel like Valentine’s is so forced – it’s something you are suppose to do. Michael made me a cute card and put it on my keyboard after I fell asleep last night. I didn’t get him a card this year. We are going out to dinner tomorrow night (and getting dressed up too!) and Eshiva picked out a cake that we’ll have tonight.

I just called my gram to wish her a happy birthday. 83. Long run, hm? I wish she could be around for 83 more. I call every year, and every year for the past few she’s alluded to this or that. Most phone calls (I call at least once a week) allude to “only so much longer” or the like.

Somehow I call her up for happy, and wind up realizing sooner than I like it will be one less Happy Birthday call to make in the year. There are already too few.

Happy Imbolc everyone who celebrates it. Sorry to precede yearly wishes with morose thoughts. It’s how my brain works. Five years ago today I was in labour. I was miserable. Labour stopped. That child stayed in eight more days. She’s still stubborn, like her mama. I’ll probably ramble on about that later though.