Okey Dokey Recipe Time Again

I am on an easter egg hunt for a wheat grass juicer for the house that is not going to cost me a fortune. I found one for under $40, but it had about $900 in shipping costs to Canada. .

Roasted Red Peppers with Feta & Garlic

4 Red Peppers - remove seeds etc.

250 g Feta Cheese - crumbled

100 g cream cheese

2 cups (or less) of Basmati rice

3-4 cloves garlic - minced

Salt & pepper

1 tbsp Olive Oil

1 tsp Chili Powder

After you have finished removing the "lids" and seeds from the red peppers, toss rice with crumbled Feta, cream cheese, garlic and chili powder. Drizzle olive oil over the top of the peppers and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast or broil until mixture inside is hot. Alternatively, you can pre-broil the peppers alone and stuff them and continue to roast them. Um, this is pretty much supper for me. But you can serve along side the rotting flesh of dead animals, if you so chose.

signed, the willow

Open House mania

Yo!

We drove around today. Looking at open houses. In fact we were the first people at one house. It seemed as though the entire city of Burlington was out looking as well. I hear it has become a bit of a past time for some. Others were selling their homes and looking at "comps" in the neighbourhood. We went to one that was a flip. It was an obvious flip. I really wish that flippers would take care of important details like staging and fixing the crooked floors. We went to an old granny house. Poor old lady was spending her last days in that house and it reeked of illness and 40 years of accumulating junk, including an adult child that read comic books in the basement. Then we found a little gem. It had been reno'd in the right spots. It was full of love and life and on a great little treed street. It screamed "Buy Me!". *Mila* fell in love instantly when she found out it had a crawlspace. But it lacked access to let the dog out into the backyard. Important stuff. What I did discover in this little gem was the nice dreamy kitchen with dreamy features of great IKEA cabinetry. Definitely a must for re-doing a kitchen. Sliding out pantry drawers, a pot drawer. Estate agents know how to sequester women into the kitchens right away. Women buy on emotion, I'm sure of it. You see, I am just dying to pick out a house with my family. One that suits all of us. Because in the two homes we have owned, the first I bought before I met *Steve*. (Yes, he moved in with me and subsequently lost his job 2 months after) Followed by this new home that *Steve* picked out for the three of us while I was visiting my parents. The next year, he picked our car. At least I got to see pictures of the house, unlike the minty green car. Oh well. It will happen for us one day. When the timing is just right. I just hope we don't have to live in "Granny's death trap" or "flip-o-rama".

signed, the willow

A Simpler Time

A look at some artifacts at the Customs House in Hamilton. We didn't see any ghosts here...or did we? A mysterious janitor appeared out of nowhere. Where did he come from?

Last night we had the pleasure of turning off our lights for one hour (oh and our computers, hence my Saturday delayed blogging). I thought it was going to be fun for *Mila*. It didn't start to get fun until we heard a strange, yet ghastly, noise to indicate that our house is indeed haunted. Despite what *Steve* wants to tell you. I really believed that *Mila* was going to love it. She started to enjoy herself as she marvelled at me playing with hot wax. Yes, bad example, I know. But I love to dip things in hot wax and mold it around. Okay. Enough! I have never heard her complain more about "turn on the lights so I can see". What I did find most remarkable was that our neighbourhood was dim. 90% of our neighbourhood opts not to use their green bins. But, I'm guessing 90% choose to participate in Earth Hour. I wonder if kids were enticed to pledge their hour at school. Boston Pizza, behind our abodes, dimmed their indoor lights and turned off their outdoor lights while they were still open! Good for you Boston Pizza! Some of the other businesses (Canadian Tire being one) chose to be closed and have their lights turn on at around 7:45 pm as the sun went down. Granted it was probably a timer. But, come on! If a restaurant that specializes in late night snacks and meals can shut off their advertisement of a sign glowing of energy-sucking neon, than so can a Tire store that is closed. Just an idea.

signed, the willow

Chocolate is wasting my time

I have had a blog hiatus. Mostly due to visiting with my mom; my niece, nephew, brother, sis-in-law; visiting haunted mansions, etc.; eating Easter chocolate; running miles to burn off the Easter chocolate; eating chocolate covered coffee beans to stay awake to run; running more to burn off the chocolate portion of the chocolate covered coffee beans; showering longer to clean off the stink from running; vegging out after the shower, the running and the chocolate that created this nonsense while eating more chocolate! If you had a picture of that in your mind, good. You can now burn the image of my rear in your mind's eye.

Family Tree Crap: What happens to your land after you're dead and gone?

This is what happens. They cremate people on the fertile soil that you once grew your livelihood on. I just uncovered an old picture, that is a photocopy from one of my creations (not cremations). It lists Pink's Farm - once occupied by my ancestor, William Atwood - is now the site of Kew Crematorium. So, I googled "kew crematorium" and found Mortlake Crematorium. This location makes more than perfect sense in my family tree. I think Kew and Mortlake were probably once the same land. Somewhere though, there was a story told that the family sold land, or donated land to the royal family for the Royal Botanical Gardens of Kew. I guess they just sowed it for a bunch of dead bodies and a furnace.

signed, the willow

She fell for the last time in the Apple Orchard

Once upon a time there was a girl named Anne-Marie. Anne-Marie was an orphan and somehow had found gainful employment in an apple orchard. (However, I am starting to wonder if this young girl was actually a slave at this orchard as she had this terrible ability to faint from exhaustion climbing apple trees and plucking ripe apples.) Anne-Marie fell so many times from these apple trees (which resemble my staircase a great deal) that her colleauges at the orchard had to carry her body to a museum, where they laid it to rest in a gold case because she was so perfectly dainty and sweet. Only a kiss on her arm from herself (since boys are disgusting) would awaken her from her slumber. There she lay, all but 4 years old and her heart beat so slowly that it kept her vital signs in check, but her body was left lifeless in the museum.

'Anne-Marie' is a little concerning to me as she has consumed my daughter's body for the past 4 days. In fact, that is the only pretend game she has played with her grandmother. This morning, *Mila* apologized to me for pretending to be Anne-Marie and said "Mom, don't worry. I am not Anne-Marie anymore. I will go back to being *Mila*." "Oh that's good", I replied. "I was getting a little sick of Anne-Marie and I'm happy to have you back. Who is this Anne-Marie? Why is she possessing your body? Do I need to call an exorcist? Just curious." I have had to exorcise the dramatic recreation of 'Anne-Marie' with the threat that TV time will be lost for a week. Now I notice she has been holding her grandmother hostage in her bedroom, locking the door. Are we going to torture Gramma with a pile of teddy bears and forcing her to read 'Gulliver Mickey' for the 917th time?

Are all little girls so active with their imaginations? Did I create these elaborate story lines, scripts and plots? Maybe I should sign her up for Roman Polanski's school of dramatic screenplay writing 101 next fall.

signed, the willow

When I bought this light fixture for *Mila's* room, she was situated in the smallest bedroom of three that I painted vanilla milkshake (aka white). Now that she's in this dramatic chocolate room, this chandelier has taken on a new form. I think I'll take it with us when we move. If we move. If there is a possibility that I can talk *Steve* out of buying the old farmhouse down the highway that needs over $100,000 worth of work. I was willing to settle for something that just needed a new kitchen. I don't want to have to call the exterminator, humane society and have chickens in the backyard. No chickens! I repeat: No chickens EVER!

signed, the willow

Soup that is not for *Steve*

Last night I dreamt of Michael, a boy who was dead and just 12 years old. He was trapped behind a wall in an old house. Whether or not my dream had anything to do with the Customs House I visited this past week in Hamilton, it was very disturbing and I was glad that the barking dog woke me up at 12:49 am.

I have been married for 6 years and have been using ginger readily in my many recipes. Just yesterday I learned that *Steve* does not like ginger.

Whatever.

Save Bessie Soup

2 cups vegetable stock
1/4 cup soya sauce
1/2 cup chopped fennel
1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped red pepper

some frozen Asian mix veggies also work well in here with snow peas, baby corn etc.
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp ginger (dried)
1 egg
1 handful of rice noodles (wide)
2 green onions chopped


Boil stock, soya sauce, veggies, lemon and spices. Taste. Drop egg in while boiling. Allow to cook. Top off with green onions. Serve.



signed, the willow

IKEA purchase for the week

IKEA. Can I stay away from that place? NO. I was at IKEA a total of 3 times this past week. Scouting mission and lunch, Scouting mission, and bed purchase. We picked up a new bed for *Mila*. I managed to spy a $500 latex mattress on sale there for $179! No kidding. So we scored her a single bed for $69 later that same day and some sheets, mattress cover etc. My brother and family were here, so he and his wife put together *Mila's* bed for her.

The greatest things always come to life at IKEA. I get *Mila* to eat meat in the form of 50 cent hot dogs. I ran into my best friend from high school there that same day this week. Remember, we grew up about a 26 hour drive from this IKEA. I live just 10 minutes away from it now and she lives just an hour's drive from it. Life is funny that way. Our children were born days apart too. Although, mine would have nothing to do with hers. One of those uncooperative poopless days. I swear to God that this child holds it in for 3 days and becomes completely miserable by the third day so that she can save it up to not only plug up my toilet and the city's sewer system, but she also will find a way to destroy a chance meeting with an old friend who has known me my whole life and now has the fortune of meeting my impossibly weirded out kid.

*Steve* decided that we should get *Mila* an Aneboda box to roll under her bed. She happily helped to put it together with her uncle and then filled it up with all sorts of treasures. I have yet to see what she's got going on it yet. I'm sure there will be something that was once considered to be foodstuffs, something that resembles dog hair and a few hundred stuffed animals.


signed, the willow

O C D - it lives and breathes

This may not be so clear in this picture what was going on here. *Mila* carefully piled up her blocks organized by shape, when she put them away. I worry that she'll pick up the nasty habit I have of organizing, sorting and categorizing instead of playing with her toys. *Steve* doesn't seem to worry about how the toys are put away. He seems to think that it is perfectly okay to stick Polly Pocket's cell phone base in with Barbie's dinnerware. NO! One day, I am going to try to hide a couple House & Home magazines amidst his Car & Driver collection that dates back to 1982 and see if he notices. I doubt that I could do it. The neatly organized collection that he's agonized over and catalogued. I think he has an Access database of every issues, every car within every issue, every spec of every car within every issue for every month of every year that ever was back to the year he turned 15. I have no more funnies left for this day.

signed, the willow

We have more love to share

There is so much more to share with my daughter and niece. I wonder about what they will become, what they will look like. I also wonder is *Steve* ever going to stop bugging me while I am trying to catch up on my blog.

signed, the willow