Archive for August, 2010

August 30th, 2010 Uncategorized | 4 Comments


Four weeks ago, my friend Eilidh came home from work to find her boyfriend of three years sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarrette, suitcase on the ground beside him. “I can’t do this anymore.” That’s all he said. She tried to ask questions (why? when? how?) but he wouldn’t talk. He was cold as stone. Then he was gone.


To lift my friend’s mood, we decided to take a holiday together. One overpriced flight later, I arrived in BC ready to embark on an upbeat all-girl road trip. Our first stop was a family wedding on Vancouver Island, an event bound to arouse mixed feelings; joy, loss, rage, regret. I was going to be my friend’s “girl-date.” Her buffer. Her drinking buddy. With enough booze, music and prospective cute single boys, this weddding would be a breeze. Much to our horror, the wedding was a dry event with, gulp, no dancing, and lots of married young fellows holding newborn babies in their arms. Damn those sober, fast-breeding Christian types!


Fortunately, Mother Nature stepped in to save us. Mountains, giant trees, sprawling ocean views, wild deers prancing along the roads…the scenery was our entertainment. One afternoon, Eilidh and I took a hike in the woods and were instantly drawn to the lush blackberries growing wild along the path. When picked at their late summer prime, blackberries have a sweetness so distracting all your heartache goes away. Eilidh was particuraly adept at spotting just the right ones and it quickly became a passion. The second you taste a good blackberry, it’s like an addiction. Frantically, hungrily, you pick your way through a few sour berries in search of another mouthwatering hit. It’s a treacherous activity too, since the bushes have thorns and more then once I had to disentangle my sweater from a cluster of mauling branches.


Love’s the same. Finding the right person is no easy task. After endless discussions, we decided Eilidh’s man was sour from the start. She would have to choose better next time. And she was hungry for it. I could tell. While we walked along the beach, she texted an old flame, hoping to start a spark, then bought a new flirty skirt on the high street in Victoria that she said would be “perfect datewear.” She was discarding her rotten blackberry on the compost heap and getting back out into the woods. She was my blackberry-picking superhero/goddess! Resilliant, beautiful, brave, funny, with the sharp eye of an expert huntress, I knew she would succeed.


Meawhile, with all this relationship talk, I couldn’t help but wonder– how long was my love story going to last? Would the sweetness ever go sour?


When I returned home to Montreal a week later, the FC was waiting for me at the front gate as my taxi pulled up. It was early morning and he was just heading to work, wearing his usual rumpled shirt and fresh-from-the-shower slicked down side part. The timing was perfect. We embraced, shyly at first. The electricity, the magic, the reverence for what we had infused every moment. Unable to say goodbye so soon, the FC dropped my bags in front of the house and we walked to the metro together hand in hand, stopping every few steps to embrace. In the station, the FC kept looking back as he stepped onto the escalator down to his train. I waved back from the turnstyles, silly, grinning, already missing him…


It was so very sweet. Like the perfect late summer blackberry.


August 18th, 2010 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

When I asked my sister,  “Do you love your husband?” she paused, then replied, “Only in the right lighting.” The marriage didn’t last – his doing — but she had a point about the lighting. Good light and love go hand in hand. Nobody can fall in love while scrutinizing a prospective lover’s pores.  Even Blanche Dubois had the good sense to throw a Chinese paper lantern over a cruel naked bulb. Shadows let dreams live. This is important. Because falling in love isn’t about seeing all the facts,  it’s about seeing possibility.  Of course staying in love is more tricky. Staying in love means seeing a person at their most beautiful all the time, in all kinds of light. This is how the French CutiePie sees me. No matter where I am, under the midday sun or bathing in the harsh flurorescent light of a waiting room, to him I’m always “zee most beautiful girl in zee wold.”  It’s like the FC’s eyeballs have a built-in dimmer switch. He never notices my flaws.  And the more beautiful he sees me, the more confident and beautiful I become. That’s why love feeds love. In all light.

Though the FC thinks I

August 12th, 2010 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !
Took this picture from a Manhattan shop window (Rugby?). Aren't T-straps and argyle socks dazzling? So cute and preppy it makes me want to go back to school and get a PhD... in love.

Took this picture from a Manhattan shop window (Rugby?). Aren't T-straps and argyle socks dazzling? So cute and preppy it makes me want to go back to school and get a PhD... in love.

Worked the same look earlier this summer with argyle ankle socks and couldn't stop looking at my feet.

August 11th, 2010 Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Maybe we need to call a psychic or just flip a coin, but the FC and I are stumped about what material to use for our kitchen counter. (Yes, after living here a full month, we still don’t have one.) Having ruled out granite, concrete and tile, we’re finally down to white quartz or wood. Everyone has a different opinion. Both cost the same. The wood counter will be custom made by a carpenter that my friend knows, so it won’t look Ikea-ish, it’ll be wide-planked and (we think) dark stained. Romantic, cottage-y. But the white quartz will be light and airy and go with my mid-century modern teak dining room table. Which is the best choice? We keep vacilliating. All the while, I have a sorry looking piece of MDF getting more stained with every hour.

It’s time for action, choices, momentum. Or maybe just another cup of tea…

Wood will work with our sink and tap, which are similar to the above.

This kitchen uses the backsplash to break up the all white, something we could try with our white tile (already purchased.) Also like rustic stools in front. White goes with everything!

August 10th, 2010 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

My friend Catherine stumbled upon this quote in a friend’s blog and, thinking I might appreciate it, sent it along. The quote is from “The World According to Garp” by John Irving, which I haven’t read but maybe should.


“If you are careful,’ Garp wrote, ‘if you use good ingredients, and you don’t take any shortcuts, then you can usually cook something very good. Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day; what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard sane.”


I have often thought that my cooking was a kind of therapeutic release from the strains of being a sceenwriter, because when I cook I feel more in control and can see results quickly (unlike TV work, which is a long, drawn-out process, with many different cooks, and one is never sure who, in the end, is getting the final kick out of it, if anyone.)