Cooking for one

I really prefer cooking for other people. To see people filling on something that I've made for them is personnally fulfilling. If they appear to rather enjoy it, well, that is even better for all involved.

It was one of those rare occasions when I went to some trouble to enjoy a meal all my own on a cold day this month. My tastes called for soup and bread.

As a youngster, I enjoyed oatmeal brown bread with its sweet, slightly nutty flavour. I was able to create a loaf faithful to my memories by using that morning's leftover porridge. I mixed it into the sponge with a good hand to the molasses. It turns out that I've been a bit shy on the molasses over the recent history of my breadmaking. More is better. It's adding a good half cup that brings the good brown tones and sweetness to the bread.

Once I set the loaf to rise in the pan - one rise only this time, which also not my typical method - it was onto the soup. Opening the fridge for my inspiration, I set on a tray of various half-eaten Quebec cheeses that I picked up during the Holidays. They were starting to get really funky - perfect for cheese soup. A carrot in the broth gave it an orangey complexion, and a potato gave it some heft. After blending, I melted the cheeses in. Unctuous, piping hot, and yummy. For a pint of red homebrew to go with...

Grown-ups at play

Adrenaline junkies.

Some of my first responder buddies and I got together over the weekend to shoot at each other. Cathartic, and a good pasttime for people who enjoy adrenaline.

You do not want to get hit by this weapon.

I've recently relented on my stance that the kids should not have guns. I admit it - guns are fun.
Cap guns were one of my favorite toys between the ages of 7 and 9.

The paintball gun is almost as fun. It makes a great noise when it shoots, and certainly feels more powerful than the cap gun. What it lacks is a good gun smell. The paint stains, but it doesn't have that scent of having just shot at something.

Just after I got home, one of the kids snapped this. It looked much worse the next day.

Before you ask if it hurts to get shot, let me address the joy of pain. You really want to avoid getting shot when you know it's gonna sting. I got bruised all over my arms and chest, and it really felt like something when I got nailed in the top of the head. The face is covered, and I donned a breast-plate to protect the more sensitive parts.

I'd play again... just as soon as these bruises start to heal.

Looking for an attitude of service

The morning train is a great idea when the temperature is low.

At -26 degrees Celsius this morning, my car didn't even consider starting. I turned the key. The radio came on and the lights did, too. But, there was abosolutely nothing happening in the engine compartment.

I did look for an outlet on the little Ford Focus last night. Didn't see one. Is that possible? Maybe I've got one of those cars that's not supposed to go out in the winter. Like a Porsch. Yes, that's it. My car: it's like a Porsch.

My Porsch-like Focus is not jealous of the plugged-in family van.

In the mornings this winter, I typically drive as far as the train station, and catch a train into Montreal. There are plenty of seats when I get on, being as mine is the first stop. I can comforatbly read the paper, or hop on my laptop to read a magazine.

Since my mother-in-law left me her copy of The Apothecary's House, I've been reading that on the hour-long train trip. It's an enjoyable read and it makes the trip go very quickly. In fact, I almost didn't get off at my stop on the way home earlier in the week.

The train has its drawbacks. Big on my list is that there are no bathrooms. Yes, I can hold it. But, when the A-team was very young and I took them aboard, they couldn't. Sorry about peeing between the railcars, AMT. Maybe you could consider our comfort.

While I'm on the topic of comfort, I would like to rant about those days when every seat is full. It's not fun to come to the end of your work day, and have to surf your way back to your part of the province.

If it were only comfort on the banlieue (the suburban train line), I'd hold my tongue. It's actually that the evidence seems to suggest that myself and those who run the AMT are operating under different definitions of the idea "service." To me, it's where another entity works to provide those served with things that will be helpful, useful, and even thoughtful. Traveling the train is probably better for the environment, and it's definitely easier on the infrastructure of Montreal (in terms of roads, parking, city workers).

The AMT's idea of service is more like doing a favour for people who use the train. We should be grateful to have a train at all.

Alas, if it were only the suburban train that operated with this vacuous conception of service... I'm afraid that a good many of our public services operate in such a way that the users feel more denied than served.

It's one of the most important services, emergency healthcare, that has about the worst wervice attitude I can imagine.

When you require service, you should feel cared for. You should not feel like you are in the way, or merely fortunate to have a meagre utility that's masquerading as a service. True service requires an attitude of caring, putting another's needs at the forefront of your actions, and humility.

The boys came at home

I was talking to my mother this a.m. It was just the usual mother-daughter chit chat about nothing in particular.

Lorraine says that Gabriel and his son, Wyatt (that would be my nephew and my great-nephew, respectively), came in this morning and whisked her away to Tim Hortons for her coffee and Timbits. I know that I come by my love of the all-Canadian (just pretend with me, please) institution genetically.

We got to talking about wee Wyatt, who's now a year and bit old, having arrived nearly three months pre-maturely and precisely on his father's birthday. That topic lead direclty to my own dear mum recounting briefly the arrival of her first born.

My mother has four children. The first of them and the last of them (moi!) were delivered in hospital. The two middle children, however, were delivered at home. That may seem like nothing much, given that is how people had babies "back then," but today is the first time I'd heard that the boys were had at home and the rationale behind that decision.

For the first child, my mother had taken out a bond which she paid for out of her earnings from working. Lorraine always worked, and she always saved money. The bond was enough to pay for the time spent in hospital to have the baby, and there was a little left over "for me," says Lorraine. And, a good thing it was that the baby was had in hospital because the nurse had to wriggle around the stuck babe.

When it came time for babies two and three, in the mid-1950s, there was simply no money to pay for the hospital and doctor's fees. It hadn't ever occurred to me that mum would have had to pay for that, but of course she would have. It was before socialized medical care (which came in either 1957 or 1966, depending how you count). By the time it was my turn to come along, there were no user fees to have the baby in hospital.

Angus sketched out the lines for a creature

Angus has been, as always, working on his drawings. He found a tutorial online, and has been using this method where shapes are used to layout the creature like in the sketch above.

Angus created this evil-doer in the same manner. He wasn't satisfied with the face - I cannot fathom why not.

We've pretty much got the whole Christmas season down to a reproduce-able process. I really thought that, this year, I knew what was supposed to happen and when it was supposed to get done. Here is how it works for the MacIsaac-Vacon clan of Saint-Lazare.


First, it's the baking. The cakes have to be done early, ideally in October.

The fruit cakes have to be baked early so that they can set-up in their liquor bath for a good long while. It all starts with the fruit mix. This I keep on hand all year long in a gallon jar, replenishing whatever fruit I use and topping it all up with the dregs of rum or whisky. Fruit like this can be used to make cookies or other cakes whever the mood strikes. I first came across this method of keeping dried fruit available when I was making a wedding cake for Linnet and Rona. Linnet's mum, Robin, gave me the lo-down on storing fruit in spirits. It didn't take much convincing for me to adopt the method.

So, it didn't happen "ideally" in October this year. The cakes didn't get made in November, or even in December. I missed it entirely, but no one else seems to have noticed that it wasn't around. There remains one fruit cake from 2007, but I was too afraid to look in on it. No fruit cake this year.

After the baking, the next thing to do is the cooking. (As you have no doubt noticed, this task list is presented in order of importance.) There are two staples of my holiday that I can prepare in advance and send to the deep freeze: rappie pie and meat pie. This year, I prepped both of these for New Year - just hours before we devoured them on New Year's Eve and New Year's Day.

The turkey dinner cannot be cooked until the day of Christmas, it's true; however, I brined the turkey beginning on the 23rd. The frozen bird was bought just a day or two before.

After baking and cooking, I'm in the holiday spirit. Ready for the parties, that is! There are a standard five that I attend, beginning with the children's xmas party at Rob's Investor's Group office. The Puff and the Pillpoppers Christmas party is a late-night bash held early in December. My EMS team usually goes with an early party, as well, and it's comparitively pretty tame. About 3 or 4 days before we actually have the party, it occurs to the folks at Picture This that there should be some kind of office party. This year, it was an English tea at Griffon the week before we took our xmas time off. Mid-December, the ringette gals have a dinner party. Then, rounding out the season, it's the extravagant Investor's Group soiree. I got gastro exactly mid-way through the ringette party, and was still battling it when the IG soiree went ahead without me.

Pointe Claire Piranhas dinner party

Puff Holiday soiree

Next up, the decorations! The time to put up the xmas decorations is November 12. I began with the wreath on the door and ended with the xmas tree. (In between those two stages, some 40 days passed.) Rob went out to get the tree at the same tree shop four blocks away that we've been going to for the last four years.

The method for choosing a tree is greatly simplified by now: Rob says to the lovely woman at the shop, "I'd like a 7-foot tree." She steers him to a nice cultivated tree, and he greatfully hands over fistfuls of money. He never actually sees the tree unbound until it's home in our dining room. Every year, it's perfect!


The tree decorating is a process that takes several hours and requires mulled wine, egg nog, hot chocolate, and whatever baked goodies I've managed to get together. The A-Team was 100% on board with the decorating - for about 10 minutes. Angus stuck it out for a bit longer, since he liked the hat so much.


Phew! Once we get the tree up, and decorated, we place nic-nacs hither and yon and voila, country Christmas.

At this point, I feel it's necessary to have at least the first tin of Quality Street chocolates. There should also be some homemade fudge, homemade nuts & bolts, and another 2-3 boxes of chocolates. Alas, the stores were bereft of Quality Streets this year. It wasn't until after the holidays that I happened upon a rack of half-price tins at the local Pharmaprix while I was shopping for a Montreal Canadiens mug (another story). The good things about that is that I'm eating one right now!

Christmas cards are a staple for us, since they are the #1 means for distributing the Maggie Times, our holiday newsletter. This year was the ninth edition, which means next year's has got to be something special. We distributed our cards and newsletters to some 115 recipients during the last two weeks of December.

Rob at the xmas card preparation station

Yes, there are gifts aplenty exchanged during our Christmas. On this matter, this year was no different than any other. I developed a good list in early December that I was able to tactically achieve throughout the month, largely using the eBay and Amazon.com. I don't have to do too much on this front, since Santa makes sure to bring what the kids ask for as well as stuff all 6 of the stockings. In the last week before Christmas, I head in to Zellers for Rob's pajamas and slippers. Easy.

Santa managed to find an out of print video game for Archie

The family gatherings this year both came during the holidays. First, it was my sister Joanne's Christmas Eve dinner. She made a superb, if "untraditional" dinner of Asian cuisine, including a marvelous orangy-glazed turkey. It was Archie's turn to battle gastro, poor dear, but by the end of the evening he recovered enough to open presents and have a bite of the holiday meal.

Tante Joanne, Angus, Oncle Andre and Archie

Vicky and Stephane opted to have the cousins over during the break between xmas and New Year's, an idea that I thought was excellent. We had a huge brunch and then nestled around the television watching the wee cousins get their Wii chops up.


Christmas Day starts at 6:30 when Archie gets up, has a look to see if all is at it should be, and then begins to whisper to the rest of us that it is, indeed, Christmas. Rob makes chocolate chelsea buns that we munch on while the stockings are opened, and the presents unwrapped. After a second cup of coffee, I get to the prep for our traditional turkey dinner.

Butch and Margie open their stockings while Rob's chocolate chelsea buns await

Then, there's New Year's Eve. This year, I decided to play it safe. After last year's head-on collision involving Harmony's car, a little blue Honda Civic, and the Highway 40 median, I had the desire to be warm and comfy at home. We popped a bottle of champagne at 12:00, toasted the New Year with the kids, and were tucked in our bed - all of us in the one bed! - by 12:15.

I can see now, as I recount the story of the 2008 Holiday season, that not everything happened as it should in the process. Yet, I feel now - as much for their absence as the their presence - that the MacIsaac-Vacon family has our very own holiday traditions. And, that is a warm, sweet feeling.

Frosty the birthday boy

Sure, it's January and it's c-c-cold. That's no reason not to get some fresh air.

I'm of the opinion that a person has to find some things that she enjoys to pass the long winter. I enjoy playing in the outdoors, as long as I have four layers (minimum), a good pair of mittens, excellent socks, warm boots, a tuque that covers my ears and the promise of hot liquids once I go back inside.

Saturday, Angus was off to a birthday party, a birthday tubing party! The Base de Plein Air was the locale for the mad dash, and I being the mother that I am (that would be "fun-loving" mama and not "overbearing" mama, in case you were wondering) could not resist the invitation to tag along.

Much exercise was had by all. Does it strike you that everything you do outside in the winter takes about 50% more energy than at times when there isn't three feet of snow on the ground? I slept well that night.

The cold has a good deal to do with the feeling that everything outside in the winter takes more energy. Heating my body used the energy from an entire can of Monster, pre-drunk in order to keep up with the young'uns.

The temperature was in the -13 degree area, which is not exceptionally cold. It was, however, plenty cold enough for the birthday boy to get frost nip on his cheeks. This may have been precipitated by the nasty wind: chilling, indeed. If you notice that your cold, rosy cheeks are developing white patches - that's frost nip. It's the universal signal that it's time to head in for the hot chocolate, and that is exactly what we did!

As for the tubing at the Base de Plein Air, it's good. The two runs are pretty short, and straight as she goes.

Bedard Park is better. The kids there - surely without the insurance worries of organized establishments - have carved wicked bumps into the runs. These are the kind of fun that makes you scream. Not that I went over them. Oh, no. Too scary. Angus took them on his butt, knees, and - this was hard to watch - on his stomach.

At the tubing party, the kids went in twos and threes on the tubes. NB: three is too many. One gets knocked off and run over by the very tube he was supposed to be riding. By the laughter and screaming, I'd gauge it a great party. In Angus words: "That was the best party ever!"

Photo op captured in video

Sorting through the Christmas pictures from 2008, I came across this gem.

I have Rob's camera to thank for this one. It'a an Olympus FE-310. The control that shifts between still photo and video easily turns to whatever it fancies. I've got at least half a dozen sort-of video clips from the sixty-nine things that I thought were photos. That's too high of a percentage.

But, in the case of this moment - where a photo opportunity was in the offing - I recognized that the camera had snuck into movie mode and went along with it. A good thing.