realia

lights on the city

I don't take a lot of pride in working on Bay Street. I dig the historical address, but I don't work for, or associate myself with the suits that surround me on the sidewalks every day. I despise the big banks that own the area and who happen to be among the richest companies in Canada who hold the citizens of this country under a great big ugly warty thumb.

But like that kid I mentioned yesterday who squints her eyes to create watercolours on the night, I'm a sucker for the big mother Christmas decorations trying to out ostentatious each other in and around the towers. I love the big shiny Christmas down here.

 

 

Is that wrong?

 

seeing lights

 

When I was a kid we put up our Christmas tree on or around my sister Jane's birthday on the 19th of December. Happy then over the holidays I would sit in the family room with its green shag carpet and turned down lamps and temporary pine smell, and stare at the tree, holding on to it as if holding on to time. I'd squint my eyes and let the colours run together like some watercolour painting on a night sky. I also associate Burl Ives as snowman and the annual Rudoph TV special with that pine scented memory, but mostly it's the lights.

40-something years later I'm living in a large city in which there is no olive green shag carpet in sight, but the lights strung about the place could accommodate their own dedicated landfill. Despite that thought I still catch myself standing in front of them squinting my eyes to make a watercolour painting on the night.

 

lighted blow-up plastic christmas lawn stuff

Tonight is our first family Christmas celebration of the season, with Ceri's brother and nephew at their place. It's warm and pleasant visit, and we enjoy pot roast, conversation and guitar playing by both brothers.

On the way, we take the streetcar out to the east side and walk up through the pretty neighbourhood. Pretty neighbourhood with what seems like neighbours trying to out-do each other with giant lighted blow-up plastic Christmas shit all over their lawns.

 

what's your rush?

 

This morning I'm moving about my place, finishing coffee and packing things up for work, and I'm stopped still by the sun showing itself, suddenly, in a mirror.

"Good morning," the sun says. "What's your hurry?"

"I'm glad to see you too," I say.

 

christmas market amidst the bluster

It's blustery and damp. So far, that's what the winter has been: blustery and damp. Cold and clear is pleasant to walk in; blustery and damp gets down through your bones. Despite that, we walk over to the Distillery District to see the annual Christmas Market, and many folks and their families are braving it too.  We sip some mulled wine under a patio heater and then check out the vendors in the booths lining the cobbled "streets."

Clouds obscuring the CN Tower, behind the Dominion Public Building, Front Street

 We retreat back westward and land in C'est What for some cosy and a snack.

Walking home later, we've got homemade soup on our minds. Even the CN Tower looks as if it wants to hide under the covers.

 

three decades

My beautiful firstborn, trimming the tree on the eve of her 30th birthday.

Today we go over to Carly's place for a pre-30th-birthday party tree trimming and dinner.  We've used Carly's birthday as the "Christmas tree erecting day" since she was small.  And now she's 30. Yes, I have a daughter who has been on the planet for three decades. Three marvellous decades.

 

boardroom and hotel room

Monday morning I take the hour long flight from Toronto to Sudbury, to spend the week holed up in a boardroom with a team, working on a proposal. These kinds of team-based efforts are usually good experiences for me; they're intense but more productive than they would be if we were operating out of multiple offices. It's great to see and talk with people with whom I interact often via email and telephone. And getting with a team is always useful networking opportunity for me; getting to know colleagues with whom I can consult on issues and tasks that come up every day. It's a big company, and frankly, once you get to know someone in a live setting, they tend to return your calls and emails.

 

Team-sized desk.

 

After dinner, hanging with Jamie Oliver making Christmas merry on Food TV.  After a few days the hotel life is old, even with Jamie Oliver.

 

rainy sunday brunching

It's one of those little gifts life hands you every once in awhile: a rainy Sunday morning.  That which invites you to have coffee in bed, to loaf around in your pyjamas and to think of things to cook.  Tomorrow I'm heading out of town for the week for work, so I've got some things in the refrigerator to use up, like a red pepper and some zucchini.  I had recently noted this recipe in my Pinterest recipe collection which I'd saved from my favourite foodie blog, Skinnytaste.com, and decide to make it, modified to incorporate some not-so-skinny pancetta, also sitting there in the refrigerator.  More thumbs-up from both sides of the table.

Cook slices of onion until they're browned. Caramelizing works best if you do it slow and long; but that tends to make people in the household hungrier faster.  Today I counter pre-brunch hunger with fruit bowls of pomegranate, pear and grapes and cook the onions slow.

Add in matchsticked zucchini and chopped bell pepper and cook until soft.

Transfer cooked veg and some cooked pancetta to a pie plate. Whisk a combination of eggs and egg whites together with fresh grated parmesan cheese, salt and pepper, and a few drops of hot sauce and pour over top of the veg mixture.

Bake 20-25 minutes at 400 F.

Tastes great as a next-day leftover.

dreary afternoon, yellow door

Weslodge Saloon, King Street West, Toronto

hello winter

Friday night.  After work we meet up with Carly for "beer o'clock" at our favouite local. Winter has returned today and it's tossing snow around the street like wispy ribbons.  I have refused to bust out my warm winter coat yet, and thus walking outside to head home in my inadequate coat makes the blustery wind more unpleasant than it might otherwise.  Hello winter.