If you met me, the likelihood is that you wouldn't immediately realize I'm very granola. That is, I mostly only wear natural fibres, I live green as far as I possibly can, and eat organic foods (better yet, bio-dynamic). Years ago my aunt gave me a recipe for homemade granola, and although adapted somewhat, I use it all the time. How it goes is this, I bake the mixture of rolled oats, sunflower seed oil, syrup and honey in the oven, usually in the evening when I'm not busy with writing.
I leave the mixture to cool overnight. In the morning, my husband puts the rest together: raisins, sunflower seeds, chopped nuts and, usually, flax seed. However, he was a bit sleepy the other day and instead of the latter, he added a handful of poppy seeds. These I'd asked him to buy, having the intention of baking a poppy seed cake.
Well, I didn't know he'd made that mistake. After eating breakfast, I felt decidedly weird, a little disoriented, and my head ached. Same thing the next day. When I complained to my husband, he smiled and 'fessed up.
Seems like opium isn't a good thing for me to ingest. But we had this full bottle of granola on our hands, and we like/need to be frugal. What to do? Seeing as my husband wasn't affected in the least, he's offered to finish that lot. And last night, I made myself a new batch. Whew!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
A wail of a day
So here was yesterday's plan:
Morning:
Get up early to take my husband to the train station. He'd travel almost four hours to Toronto, catch the train up to Richmond Hill where he'd have a meeting at the Rudolf Steiner Centre. He's one of the people who does Waldorf Distance Learning for prospective teacher training students.
Afternoon:
Fetch grandson from kindergarten, usually a forty minute drive away. Take him home and stay with the family for dinner. Promised is a roast, seeing as my husband is not eating red meat at the moment, being on a health diet. Also, haven't seen the family for a while, so it's a double jammy: delicious meal, and time with loved ones.
Evening:
10 p.m. Pick up husband at the train station.
Right. So I delivered him at 7.35 a.m., which gave him about five minutes to spare. Soon after nine, the phone rings. It's the woman who co-ordinates the Distance Learning Program. "Is he there?"
"No, he's on the train."
"Oh noooo," she wailed. "The venue is closed. Our meeting is cancelled."
I emailed him, phoned his cell, had to leave a message. Half an hour later, he calls back to say he's aware of the situation, "but if I'd looked at my emails five minutes earlier, I'd have been able to get off at Kingston."
Unfortunately, the train was an express. So he spent eight hours travelling, with a short stop in between for a bite of lunch. A healthy one... or as healthy as you can find in a Food Court!
Meantime, snow had been falling steadily since 8 a.m. My son calls. "I have four-wheel drive. Better that I do the pick up. But you're still invited for dinner."
Hope springs eternal, as we know.
But.... come 4.30 I've seen and heard what a mess the roads are. How slippery. Not a good idea to drive an unnecessary 25 kilometres. So the dinner plans were cancelled and I had to find something to cook for myself.
The good news is, I managed to pick up my husband at 6.50 p.m., only five minutes late because of the slow-moving traffic, and only sliding on those slippery roads about a dozen times.
Whew!
Morning:
Get up early to take my husband to the train station. He'd travel almost four hours to Toronto, catch the train up to Richmond Hill where he'd have a meeting at the Rudolf Steiner Centre. He's one of the people who does Waldorf Distance Learning for prospective teacher training students.
Afternoon:
Fetch grandson from kindergarten, usually a forty minute drive away. Take him home and stay with the family for dinner. Promised is a roast, seeing as my husband is not eating red meat at the moment, being on a health diet. Also, haven't seen the family for a while, so it's a double jammy: delicious meal, and time with loved ones.
Evening:
10 p.m. Pick up husband at the train station.
Right. So I delivered him at 7.35 a.m., which gave him about five minutes to spare. Soon after nine, the phone rings. It's the woman who co-ordinates the Distance Learning Program. "Is he there?"
"No, he's on the train."
"Oh noooo," she wailed. "The venue is closed. Our meeting is cancelled."
I emailed him, phoned his cell, had to leave a message. Half an hour later, he calls back to say he's aware of the situation, "but if I'd looked at my emails five minutes earlier, I'd have been able to get off at Kingston."
Unfortunately, the train was an express. So he spent eight hours travelling, with a short stop in between for a bite of lunch. A healthy one... or as healthy as you can find in a Food Court!
Meantime, snow had been falling steadily since 8 a.m. My son calls. "I have four-wheel drive. Better that I do the pick up. But you're still invited for dinner."
Hope springs eternal, as we know.
But.... come 4.30 I've seen and heard what a mess the roads are. How slippery. Not a good idea to drive an unnecessary 25 kilometres. So the dinner plans were cancelled and I had to find something to cook for myself.
The good news is, I managed to pick up my husband at 6.50 p.m., only five minutes late because of the slow-moving traffic, and only sliding on those slippery roads about a dozen times.
Whew!
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Our awareness of time
Usually, driving in my car, I have the radio on. And there are certain programs on certain days of the week that I especially like to listen to. This was the situation the other day when the announcer announced that 'now you can listen in to this program any time you like'.
Immediately I thought, 'Wouldn't that take away some of the anticipation and pleasure? And even, take away a bit from my awareness of time?' I remembered back to my childhood. At 5.15 on most weekdays (i.e. when I wasn't at ballet) I'd be listening to 'Sooooooperman!!!!' To some extent the progression of my afternoon was defined by those fifteen minutes of listening.
So we are emancipated more and more from our awareness of time. I'm thinking more daily and weekly rather than monthly or yearly. We can work in the artificial equivalent of daylight for as far into the night as we wish or need, and I'm sure you can think of many other examples.
This morning when I woke and enjoyed the sunrise I thought, 'Thank goodness for that.' And the sunset. These two can still define our daily lives, and I'm grateful whenever I see them.
Immediately I thought, 'Wouldn't that take away some of the anticipation and pleasure? And even, take away a bit from my awareness of time?' I remembered back to my childhood. At 5.15 on most weekdays (i.e. when I wasn't at ballet) I'd be listening to 'Sooooooperman!!!!' To some extent the progression of my afternoon was defined by those fifteen minutes of listening.
So we are emancipated more and more from our awareness of time. I'm thinking more daily and weekly rather than monthly or yearly. We can work in the artificial equivalent of daylight for as far into the night as we wish or need, and I'm sure you can think of many other examples.
This morning when I woke and enjoyed the sunrise I thought, 'Thank goodness for that.' And the sunset. These two can still define our daily lives, and I'm grateful whenever I see them.
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