warm and fuzzy

I've joked before (and maybe a little too seriously) about drowning my stress in alcohol. It isn't for the purpose of trying to forget or distracting myself from the real problem, but it can take the edge off.

Nothing wrong with wanting to feel a little warm and fuzzy every once in a while, right?

Well instead of consuming large amounts of alcohol during times of need, I've taken to enjoying an overpriced cuppa with a dear friend. It's time spent in good company. It doesn't involve having tiered trays of sandwiches with the crusts cut off, just large pots of tea and a little cookie for good measure.

We sit in the window, discuss whatever is on our minds, watch passersby run between buildings under colourful umbrellas, see a bride and groom stroll around the corner after the rain has passed.

Warm and fuzzy, sans alcool. Lovely.

keep calm

Paddle on...

Went on a 20-kilometre canoe trip last weekend. Haven't found peace like that in a long while, yet it was fun too. Need to do more of those.

It was 4.5 hours of cruising down the Grand observing feathered friends (Canada geese, blue herons and peregrine falcons), long wisps of kelp and finding various ways to stretch without interrupting our flow.

Throughout, we also spent time foraging for food from the bottom of our backpacks. Don't know what possessed us but we packed as if we were trekking across land: granola bars, trail mix and bottles of brightly-coloured drinks filled with electrolites. Never had those before. Thought they tasted salty. Is it just me?

Broke for lunch when the sun became ridiculously hot and we were in desperate need of both shade and a bathroom break. We found a place to disembark and inhale our pasta salads, although entirely without shade but with just enough strategic cover for, you know. B - R - U - S - H. That's how we spell relief.

Time seemed to pass quickly once we arrived at our destination. Never would have thought I'd be keen on paddling an entire day away but I would love to do it again. And again and again and again.

Nothing quite beats the quiet and calm of floating down a river in a vessel made for two.

easy

More and more I'm liking things quick and easy.

[Yeah, yeah. Insert joke here.]

My patience isn't what it used to be and I just don't feel like making much time for things these days, cooking included.

Work is wearing me down and while not as busy as it used to be, it's still draining. Not feeling engaged doesn't help, but being unplugged certainly keeps the stress levels to a minimum. Defense mechanism. Self preservation. Call it what you want, it's how I'm getting by.

But back to convenient food fixes. I need to find more of those 30-minute and under meals. You know, anything to keep me out of fastfoodland.

I've got my favourite maple-glazed salmon and wasabi-laced soba noodles, and lately I've been making these char sui style pork chops...

Swift and savoury. They're just too easy and too tasty not to slip them into the rotation. But I want more or others, I should say. More, more, more. That's how I like it, that's how I like it.

let us eat cake

Yesterday I binged on cake for lunch. I was not alone, so it wasn't some desperate kind of emotional eating episode -- not that such things should be taken lightly.

It was one of those perfect, lazy summer days where the entire city seemed to be out strolling in the sun. So out I went to meet people (family) for lunch. Cake, specifically. There were no other options.

Who else can you eat boxes full of sugar with and not feel judged?

They're family. They'll still love you even after you've eaten directly from the box, have icing smeared all over your face, are laughing uncontrollably at any and everything because of the sugar high, and who'll be sure to point out the drool running down your chin when you wake up from your cake-enduced coma.

Ah, yes, family.

We had two cakes between the three of us: a lemon raspberry cakelet and chocolate suicide.

We managed to finish the lemon cake and were only half successful with the suicide. If we were truly serious about it, we would have attempted suicide first...

We'll need a better plan of execution next time.

Didn't eat dinner that night and, today, didn't have breakfast and wasn't particularly hungry for lunch either. Hm... loss of appetite after attempted suicide. Go figure.

breakfast of champions

Once in a while we like to have a big breakfast, one that we would really only ever have if we were travelling but that we occasionally manage at home to satisfy the gluttons in us. Today was just such a day.

Why? No particular reason except that it's a long weekend and why the hell not?

I made pancakes (clearly miscalculated on the volume, oh well) and Mr. Man made the bacon. There were also some scrambled eggs but they didn't look very pretty (because, yes, that matters) and they wouldn't fit after I already plated everything else, along with a garnish of fruit.

It was delicious and filling and, as expected, we didn't finish everything but that's okay. We'll have the leftovers during the week -- although it's not the same as when it comes steaming from the griddle right onto your plate. What's that? You say you can hear your arteries clogging as we speak? Oh well, again.

Having another big breakfast like this probably won't come for a while. They say it's the most important meal of the day, yet it's the one which we often neglect or that we only execute half-heartedly. I try. I'm usually a yogurt, banana and granola girl but we all have our moments of weakness.

Sometimes... sometimes... submission is good.