Great Sandwich Make 2010 - Update 1

Just a week after sending an email out to friends, colleagues, and clients about our 2010 Great Sandwich Make -- a little heartfelt initiative to feed to less fortunate in our city's East Side this season -- our kitchen is BURSTING with donations! And I'm not gonna lie: I've high fived, did jigs, and cried a little at this fact.


Our aim this year is to make 200 care packages consisting of:
- a big, meaty, marvellous sandwich with all the fixin's
- a granola bar
- cookies
- fruit
- juice
- toothpaste/floss

And anything else we can muster up!

So far, our little hearts have been overwhelmed by the onslaught of generosity in the community.

We have:
- 229 cookies from Marie Antoinette Bakery
- 400 cookies from Fratelli Bakery
- 200 buns from Fratelli Bakery
- 152 granola bars from various donors
- 180 juice boxes from various donors
- 200+ tangerines
- bananas
- candy
- nuts
- 150 tubes of toothpaste
- 100 tubs of dental floss
- Lettuce
- Tomatoes
- Clothes
- Cans of tuna
- Mayonnaise
- Mustard!
- 200 wet wipes

WOWSERS!!!

Plus, we just embarked on our first shopping trip to fill in the gaps last night. And with a littler over $800 in donations (whoa!), we purchases $500 worth of shaved meat (roast beef and turkey), $120 worth of cheese (mmmm...mozzarella), tubs of mustard (dijon, of course), mayonnaise, food wrap, oranges, tomatoes, lettuce... oh my!!!

Tonight, 5 of us will embark on making the kits, then on Christmas Eve a team of 5 volunteers will venture out to main and Hastings to deliver these packages (and hopefully deliver some smiles and hope too!)

It's beginning to look (and feel) a lot like Christmas...

Here are a few pictures of the sky-high donations in our tiny little apartment.


The "You Matter" tags are done ... one for each of the packages.


Toothpaste galore from an anonymous dentist donor!


Juice boxes piled up


Mmmm... cookies!

Thank you to everyone who donated time, money, food, etc. We are so grateful. I know the Great Sandwich Make 2010 will be the GREATEST yet and it'll make a small yet mighty difference in the hearts (and bellies) of many of the down-on-their-luck folks outside.

THANK YOU.

Now, to make sandwiches...

Culinary Adventures

While the rain rolls in and I wait semi-patiently for my back to heal so I can get out and enjoy the newly-snow capped mountains, I've been trying to find other hobbies to enjoy to pass this healing time.

With M's 32nd birthday on December 2nd, I had a great idea: why not devise a plan to bake a tasty cake that he'd get a kick out of.

So here's the thing:
I'm a proud vegetarian.
Mike's a meat lover through and through who happily eats veggie at home and grabs a burger with the boys on the weekend.

I thought: I should make him a steak.

Then I thought: Gross.

So I compromised, and I began my plan to make him a Steak-and-potato cake complete with all the fixin's. It'd look like Steak and Potatoes but taste like cake (yes!). So I could eat it too!

My plan was simple: Cut a cake in the shape of a T-bone, use the scraps to make the baked potato. Ice. And Voila!

Not that easy!

Though the finished product left much to be desired in terms of aesthetics, it was the best tasting steak I've ever had!

Here it is:

The white is a a white chocolate "bone" in the T-bone.
The brown lines are chocolate grill marks.
The icing inside was browny-red because the boy likes it med-rare.
The potato had chive icing bits and two slabs of white-chocolate-dyed-yellow slabs of butter for good measure.

It was laughable to say the least.
An entire day's creative endeavour.

All worth it for his reaction!

Sumas Mountain

Early in September, we headed off to Sumas Mountain, one of the most recognizable mountains in the Fraser Valley.
The hike was supposed to be about 13.5 km, but we had heard that some blasting in the area had the top portion of the trail roped off ... so we were looking at more of an 8km hike, which was perfect in the muggy, Ontario-like heat and with an 8 year old dog who loves a good hike but tires quickly.

We parked at the side of the road and new immediately that the sun would bake our car crispy by the time we got back.
We laced up our shoes, double checked our water supply, took a quick pick, and hit the trailhead.


Just a few steps in there was a can of OFF! Bug Spray.

"It's a sign," said M.
"you think?"
He nodded.

So we sprayed ourselves liberally.

A decision that we would definitely not regret later.

The trail was thin and led quickly into dense forest. Lots of ferns and moss, mud and fallen branches. It was a wet wonderland.
We wove up and down and all around for maybe 10 minutes before we came across an aged bridge over a small, flowing river.
Harley was delighted! She was already hot and ran down to the river to lay in the water for a little while.

This was the first of many little bridges throughout the ravine.
It was like a piece of history.

Once over the river and out of the ravine, the trail became even denser with brush, wetter, and steeper. We had hear that because of an ongoing dispute between First Nations who own the land and the government, this trail is not as well maintained as some of the others in the lower mainland. So we weren't surprised and kinda enjoyed the adventure.

The trail also quickly became a nesting ground for mosquitoes. (When they came out Thought we certainly did not feel eaten alive, we did feel that they were strategic little buggers who were quite keen on gnawing on unexposed skin. (The 23 bites on my butt that night were evidence that my tush is a gold mine for mosquitos!"

Still, we pressed on.



M and I felt great, but our poor big brown pup was feeling the effects of the humidity. It's hard being big and brown in the sunshine.

So we stopped often at creeks, rivers, and puddles so she could cool off and we could admire the scenery.

After an hour or so, we came to a clearing – to our left the trees had been clear cut and it sliced my heart in half to see. It's difficult to stomach, really. To the right the train continued up past an old logging road. And within a few minutes we were back in dense forest, the sight of the clear cut still stuck in our guts.

The trail continued steeply upward then eventually began to wind around the outside of the mountain with a steep cliff edge and some breakthrough views of the Valley and the Fraser River.


We hiked for about another hour or so through the Douglas Firs and the fresh moss. At one point, as with all of our hikes, we actually made a full circle without even realizing it.

"I am the worst navigator" said M
"You are," (he is!) I concurred, and we stopped for a nap on a cliff ledge, some water, and lunch,

Our tired happy pooch wandered over to a small river bed and submerged herself in the water.

We napped in the fresh air, using our backpacks as pillows; Harley snored in the sunshine.


I doubt we've ever slept better. It was so peaceful, sweet, and surprisingly comfy.

Then we turned back and began our descent.

Before long we were at the car, which was sizzling to touch and unbearable to sit in, so we noshed on some apples and dog treats (Harley only, I swear), with the windows open until it was acceptable to get inside and drive off into the sunset.

A few hours after we go home and hopped in to bed, I was scratching feverishly.
"i am so itchy!" I said, writhing around in bed.
I turned on the light and said "do I have any bites?"
M looked over.
He gasped.
"Babe, you have more bites than regular skin at the moment." then he promptly ran off to the pharmacy to grab some After Bite and put me out of my misery.

Though they were responsible for me scratching my butt in the middle of business meetings for 5 days straight, those bites didn't get the best of me! We'd go back and do the rest of the trail in a heart beat.

We'd like to go up to Chadley Lake at the top and take a dip.
I know Harley would love it too.

We've been blessed with a bit of an Indian Summer these past few weeks, so we're hoping to get in a few more hikes before the snow falls.

32 years

So I'm 32.

Whoa.

Sounds a lot older than I would like it to sound. Sounds like the age of a "mom" or an "adult". Someone with a "mortgage" or a "car payment". Someone with a "plan" and a "to-do list" a mile long.

Sounds like someone not me at all.

32 is just a number, really. Just another fabulous year that I get to be alive on this great green earth. I'm not too concerned about expectations or where I am versus where I "should" be at this point in my life. I'm not really concerned about anything but having fun and being happy and making a difference while I'm at it. Everything else is moot.

I'm just letting life unfold how it's meant to unfold without expectation or too much planning. I like the surprise of it all.

So to celebrate getting older but not feeling old even a pinch, M and I embarked on a madly fun trip ...

Here's how the 25th of July went down:

It started at 5 a.m. Yes. 5 a.m.
The sun was just awakening and our alarm clock buzzed.
For someone who usually presses the snooze button every nine minutes for at least a half hour, M jolted out of bed. Wide awake. I squinted, mumbled, and turned over.

He put the video camera in my face and proceeded to play a birthday message that I would later find out (upon seeing it a second time) was super sweet and funny and loveable. But without my glasses and my eyes still in dreamland, all I saw was a bright light and all I heard was a muffly M voice.

"That's sweet" I said (little did I know). Half-smiled, and pulled the blankets over my head.

Minus ten points! I was thinking to my self. Who wakes a girl up at 5 a.m. on her birthday?

I thought he had gone mad.

Upon his urging, I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, put my hair in a pony tail, and walked in a trance to the car.

M had packed a backpack full of all sorts of goodies that I would discover later.

He sped fast toward Richmond.
I had no idea what was happening or where we were going, only that the sunrise was stunning and I secretly wished I was still asleep. Old girls like me need rest to stave off the wrinkles and crotchety old attitude.

But the faster we drove the more excited I got.

What were we doing today?
M had a devious smile. He had been plotting this for some time.
The magical mystery birthday tour.


After an hour or so we ended up in Tsawassen where the ferry terminal is.
We parked and headed toward the Departures.

"Can you walk faster?" M asked slightly annoyed at my early morning, still groggy pace.

"I think on my birthday I can choose my pace, thank you very much." I said. Smiled. Hmph.

So he ditched me and ran toward the ticket booth.

"Let's go!" he said as I came into the terminal.
"What?!"
"Let's go!"
He grabbed my hand and pulled me fast.

So eager for 6:30 in the morning!

We hopped on the ferry to Schwartz Bay, which is the docking station for Victoria, BC.
Lined up for ferry food for breakfast, grabbed a seat, and started noshing.
M said "close your eyes"
I did.
I waited.
He rustled around in his backpack.
I heard non-descript sounds.
I nearly fell asleep.

When we finally said "open 'em", there, in front of me, was an open-faced peanut butter sandwich with plain potato chips on it! One of my favourite childhood treats!!! It was so nostalgic (and delicious!).
I haven't had one in probably 15 years.
(you know you're old when you can say "i haven't had that in 15 years." gulp.)

Best breakfast I've had in a long time.
Here we are enjoying the breakfast and the sunrise.




The ferry is a little less than 2 hours. We sat out on the deck with a blanket and watched the sun rise over the ocean, and it was pretty much fantastic. I even managed to grab a few Zzzzzs.


When i came to, M said: "So I thought we'd go for a walking tour in Victoria to the Botanical Gardens."
In my head I thought "lame!", but to him I said "sounds awesome!"
"wait," he said, looking convincingly disappointed. "You probably think that's lame right?"
"No! Not at all! Sounds awesome!" (Totally lame!)
"Are you sure? I don't want your birthday to be lame."
"Totally sure. babe. I love botanical gardens." (not as much as I love, say, more fun things. But whatever. It's the thought that counts my mom always says)

He looked so sad.
Like he knew I thought his idea was lame.

Then, the ferry docked, and M flew out the arrival gate ... I lost sight of him!
He ditched me again!

By the time I found him, he said "C'mon! Let's go!" and was running back into the Departure gate.
"What?"
"We're not going to the gardens. C'mon. That's lame."
And he whisked me off to another ferry. This time to Salt Spring Island.
A tiny island in the Gulf Island range populated famously by artists and hippies and all around awesome people.

We sat on the deck, the sun in our faces, and I was eager to see what was next.



When we arrived a lovely girl met us at the dock.
We hopped in her SUV and she drove us about 20 minutes into the heart of the island. There, two radical scooters were waiting for us to hop on.

M's plan was this: we would scoot around the island all day dropping in on artist studios, wineries, organic farms, and more to our hearts content. And just explore explore explore! My favourite thing! Way better than gardens.



After 10 minutes of unsteady and downright dangerous scooter driving (i almost wiped out twice on a righthand turn), I finally figured out the thing and we putted around at 50km/hr through the winding roads on Salt Spring.



We visiting a painters studio and a sculptors shop. We stopped at Southy Point (the tip of the island) and ate chocolate peanut butter cups on the point (another surprise in M's bag of tricks! They are my favourite guilty pleasure!).



We scooted to Salt Sprint Winery where we tasted a few whites and reds and left with a couple of bottles of each.

We motored down to an organic cheese farm where the note on the door said to help ourselves and get change from the till on the counter. (How sweet and trusting!)


"Samples are in the fridge" said the note on the counter and M and I helped ourselves to a cheesy feast: blue cheese, brie, feta, and more. It was gluttonous.


Then we drove to an organic bakery where we sampled pretty much all of the breads before buying a dense sourdough loaf.

Then with bread, cheese, and wine on board we headed to Beddis Beach where we sprawled out on the sand, made a little picnic lunch, did crosswords (M brought a crossword book! Plus ten points!!), and napped in the sun.

We didn't want to leave.
So we called the scooter rental place and asked for a little more time.
And we napped and ate and smiled and laughed and I was happy that I was 32.

When we hopped on the ferry home, the sun was setting and a full moon was rising. A pod of orcas followed the ferry. And it seemed that even they were in on the birthday surprise. I mean, how much more perfect could the day be?




Man, it's great to be 32.

Just one of the reasons I LOVE being an aunt.

This makes me melt.

Garden update: theft and delight

Two things happened with my garden this week. One made me mad. One made me happy.
Here's how it all transpired:

Garden theft
After watching my garden thrive, watering it diligently and pruning it like pruning were a religion, I was eager to fetch some more lettuce this week. The lettuce has been growing wildly. Every time I see it, I ask myself: Did I really make that grow?
I can't take all the credit. I think Mother Nature had something to do with it.

So when M and I stopped by our plot to water and pick a few crispy green leaves, we were shocked to see that our lettuce had been hacked at the stem and stolen! Gasp!

"Someone actually stole our lettuce!" I said. Part dumbfounded, part amused.

Our previously vibrant green was nothing but a mere stem with a few curly greens.
We made a sign for the dirty scoundrels.



Garden delight
Lucky for us, aside from the Lettuce Thief who put a slight damper on our day, Gary (our garden) was yielding lots of other, un-stolen goodies! We pulled up a carrot, washed it off, and crunched down (delicious!)
and we harvested 10 or so juicy strawberries which made for a great breakfast treat with some yogurt and granola the next morning.

And, after all this harvesting, my thumb was literally green!
How about that?

Brothers Creek

With the sun shining bright and the sky a deep sea blue, the weather was ripe for a little hike.
So we headed to the North Shore and a trail we've never done before called the Brothers Creek Loop.
7 kms of forested beauty.

We had to drive up through the British Properties (where all the richest of the rich live) in West Vancouver, and parked our little beat-up Hyundai with the cracked windshield and bird-poop-stained doors on the curb alongside a multi-million dollar home. I'm sure they appreciated that!

Harley led the way onto the trail which started as a steep gravel ascent. We huffed and puffed our way through it ... it's been a year since I last hiked steeply, so it was a test of endurance and of bravery. I'm in a constant state of fear of re-injuring my back so I was slow and cautious.

The trails edges were thick with dense forest. Lots of old firs. Lots of green foliage.Beautiful "nurse" trees rich with history. And, when we stopped for a break at the crest of the first hill and just listened, all we hear were a few birds singing, a couple of chipmunks chattering, and the sweet sound of nothing else but the wind in the trees.

As we trudged forth, Harley was in a constant state of seeking water. We had plenty with us and offered it to her often (it's hard being big and brown on a hot, sunny day). But she didn't want our water in a bowl. She was roughing it. And was adamant that every lap of water would be from a creek, a puddle, an almost-dry riverbed, a swampy hollow, etc.

She would run ahead, locate water, lap it up, and sit in it for a minute – max – then carry forth when we caught up.


3.7 kms in, we reached Brother's Creek, a cool, crisp low-rise stream rolling underneath a tattered wooden bridge. It was something out of the Brother's Grimm. We half expected a troll to greet us as we descended below the bridge and onto the rocks for a creekside lunch.

The way back to the car was dotted with obscure signs and moments of panic that maybe, just maybe, we were lost.
Good news: we were never lost. Bad news: we didn't know that until we got to the car.
Memories of our first hike together 4 years ago on Mount Hollyburn where we spent double the time trying to find our way out and fearing for our lives played over and over.


"Remember on Hollyburn where we got lost?" M asked.
I chuckled.
So did he, uneasily.

It was funny after the fact. But as the Brother's Creek trail got slimmer and slimmer and the orange trail markers on the trees became fewer and farther between, we both secretly had lumps in our throats. Were we going the right direction?

Luckily, we were and we made it back to the car and the land of teh living 3 hours later with sweat on our brows and love in our hearts.

Lovely lettuce!

My garden, finally, is yielding food.
Today I picked a variety of lettuces. So much lettuce. Bags full of lettuce! And it was thrilling to the soul.
Not just because I love a good, crisp salad on a hot day.

And not just because I've been watering this little plot every day and waiting with child-like anticipation for it to bear the fruits of my labour.
No, not just that.

It was thrilling because last year it was not at all thrilling.
Last year, a crow made a nest out of the beans I forgot to water. The one tomato that actually grew was stolen. The herbs were brown. The cucumbers wilted. I overheard a stranger call my plot "The Garden of Doom." I was a green-thumb-wannabe with a brown, uneducated thumb.

So I cried a little.
Bought a "How to garden" book.
And set to work.

By the time Spring rolled around in 2010, my thumb felt slightly greener, my commitment to nurturing was stronger, and I had a vision (and, much to my own surprise, a hand-drawn map of how my garden would be planted.)

Of course, on the day I started planting, it was obvious that I was about 2 months behind the other, more serious green thumbs in our little garden community. I had flashbacks of the cawing crow that I shooed away from last years dried up bean crop. "Garden of Doom" repeated over and over in my head. I thought: "Maybe this is wasted effort."

But, still, I carried forth.
I planted.
I watered.
I monitored.
I even named our garden (Gary, by the way.)
And the more love I gave, the more Gary grew.

"Wow, looks great!" said a passerby on week two.
"Those strawberries are going to be plump!" said a fellow gardener last week.
"Can I take a picture?" asked a tourist.

My head started to swell with my new found garden fame.
And I liked it.

And so, today, Gary gladly let me pick the leaves of some healthy, strong, and scrumptious lettuces.
I made a mesclun mix for M and I, and more bags for our friends.


Lettuce lettuce everywhere!
And I am so happy!!!

Come over for a salad.
It's delightful.

I ran today!!!!!!

Well, I didn't "run", I jogged ... slowly.
But it was hands down the best 20 minutes I have had in the past year.

The day was all blue skies and I thought "I'll just take Harley out for a little hike."
Then, as I tied up my running shoes, something I haven't done with any serious intention for the better part of a year, I thought "well, maybe I can try to run."

I had zero expectations.
If anything, I was expecting to jog for 2 minutes or so and then walk the rest of the way.

We drove to the UBC trails.
At the head of the trail, I took a deep breath, let it out loudly, and said to Harley and to the skies "well, here goes nothing".
And then, like Forrest Gump, "I was runnnnnnning!"

It was slow.
Maybe a 7-7.5min/km pace.
BUt it felt good.
And the longer I went, the better I felt.

And suddenly 1 minute turned into 2 and 2 in to 10 and 10 into 20.
For 20 minutes, I jogged around the trails without a single pang in my back or a hint of numbness in my leg.
My knees were a little pissed off, but that's 'cause I've spent the last year getting chubby and I think they were revolting from the shock of it all. But that too passed.

I could have gone longer but thought that the victory was too mighty to risk jeopardizing.

So I slowed it to a walk.
And I started to laugh.
Like a crazy woman.
Then cry.

And when I got back to the car I called M and bawled my eyes out in the most awesomely happy and elated way.
"This is the beginning," he said.

And for the first time in a year of him showering me with phrases of optimism, I believed him.

Best day ever.
BEST.

Birkenhead Lake

M, the dog, and I headed into the interior to celebrate our country's 143rd birthday right smack dab in the middle of what makes this country so great: nature, mountains, forests, wonderment.

About 50km Northwest of Pemberton (and 3+ hours away from home), Birkenhead Lake is hidden off a 15km-long dirt road.
The closer we got, the bigger the mountains surrounding us became. In the beaming sunlight, were snow-capped peak after snow-capped peak. "This is amazing," said M to me and to the mountains and to the sky. "Wow." I said, breathing in and out at the same time. My heart seemed not big enough to take the beauty in.

OUr friends had found this site and recommended it to us, and we were so glad they did!

When we arrived (the last to arrive as always), they'd set up camp, had burgers on the grill, a campfire burning, and a beer in hand. We were keen to join them.

We quickly set up camp, fed the dog, opened a beer, sat in our chairs, and just "were".
We shot the shit with friends. We laughed. We told stories. We sang. We ate. We cheersed.
It was perfect.

The next day – after an exquisitely horrendous night of sleep thanks to a deflated air mattress, a gaseous dog, and a surprising dip in temperature – we explored.

In the morning we took a stroll down to Birkenhead Lake. A beautiful lake surrounded by majestic white-capped mountains. There was a little beach -- one for dogs; one for people (i love BC) -- and walking trails all around.


We would spend the better part of our afternoon here later playing frisbee, playing Aussie footy, trying our hand at fishing (to no avail), and sleeping in the sun.

We also took a mid afternoon stroll to the Goat Lookout. It's a steep hill trail up to a gorgeous lookout over Birkenhead Lake. We sat. We drank it all in. We ate strawberries. We oohed and aahed.

The camping itself was really uneventful -- the way we like it.
Essentially, it was two days of down time, of nature-infused therapy, and of fun and fantastickness.
Can't wait to go back when we have a little more time.

How much wood can two boys cut?

There's something about camping in the woods that makes boys feel primal and tap into their longlost inner caveman.
Thing is, our city boys are Gap-wearing, Mazda-driving, golf club-swinging, sushi-eating softies who don't have a primal bone in their bodies.

Still, it's fun to watch them boast about their survival skills then fail miserably.
And when they fail, to blame it on everything but their obvious lack of survival skills.

It's darn right hilarious.
And kinda cute.

Here are the boys going at it in a Birkenhead Lake midnight Axe-a-Thon.

Luckily, no one lost an eye.

Oh Canada

In the middle of a very iconic Canadian moment -- car camping at a beautiful lake in the BC interior, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, half-eaten hamburgers, empty beer bottles, socks and sandals, full moon, tall firs, summer-night-toques, and a lot of spirit -- we burst into an impromptu Oh Canada as our awesome country (save for a horrendous government run by a national embarrassment of a human being who prefers oil dollars over environmental preservation... but i digres..) celebrated its 143rd birthday.

Happy Birthday Canada.
(click "happy birthday for our Canadian singalong!)

I love living here.

Mama Bear on the West Coast!

A week ago, after many guilt trips and lots of less-than-subtle hints that I was desperate for her to visit, my sweet mama bear landed on the West Coast!

I was a seven-day whirlwind of sun, cloud, fun, eating, more eating, touring, walking, experiencing, and being together.
It was a joy of the very best kind to show her around.

Here are some of the highlights:

She saw the Olympic cauldron and donned the official Torchbearer apparel. I think she looks pretty spirited and should be considered for the 2012 Olympic games. That smile cannot be beat.


She ate at Finch's, my favourite sandwich shop in Gastown. Her Avocado Walnut Brie Baguette did not disappoint.

She saw the view from the top of Grouse Mountain and from the Cypress Mountain Lookout. It could not have been a more perfect day.

She lazed around with us at Stanley park under the sun. We enjoyed a rousing game of Crazy 8s, some great reading, and nice walks.

She took us to dinner at SandBar, a great fish house on Granville Island. She tried Sablefish for the first time and was hooked.


She smelled the roses at Van Dusen gardens and my oh my were they sweet!


She drank some wine. Lots of wine. And we all felt mighty fine.

She was a good sport and endured the hike to Lighthouse Park where Beamer's ashes were spread two years ago. We sat on a rock overlooking the Pacfic. And all was right with the world.



She experienced THE best donut on the face of the planet at Honey's in Deep Cove. It's basically deep fried lard. And man is it good.

She was silly with us all the time. And that was the best part of all. :)

And then, she had to go. *tear*


Thanks ma for making the trek out west and letting us introduce you to the city we love and our humble little life out here. It meant the world to us and we can't wait for you to come back!!!!

xo