This past winter in Montreal was one of the longest and coldest the city had seen in over a hundred years. Day after day the weather was below freezing; the snow started to fall in early December and carried right through until April. In the past week has it started to melt but only because of the rain. Montreal is still waiting for warmth and sun. Still, people are emerging from their homes ready to enjoy being outside without their skin hurting from the cold.
Spring in Montreal is enjoyable but it's not pretty. With the snow gone the ubiquitous potholes are evident. In some areas the streets are so rough that you would think there'd been a recent war. Not only do they not look nice, potholes are especially hard on Montreal drivers who take aggressive driving to a competitive level. The faster you go and more dangerous maneuvers you make the better driver you consider yourself to be. Going fast on Montreal roads is hard on cars, which are already in less than ideal shape. Rusting from being continuously blanketed by snow and all the salt that coats the roads gives them that distinctive Montreal look.
Still, with better weather there's a lot to be done in Montreal, even in rainy spring. The famous Atwater market, with its open air fruit stands selling local organic produce, artisan cheeses and decadent, hand-made chocolates is open.This is a great place to spend a Sunday morning, especially with your family. The food court sells unique, quality homemade meals. There's even an oyster bar. It's located in the beautiful St. Henri neighborhood which has some of the most celebrated bars and restaurants in the city.
Once you get your groceries, you could always head to one of Montreal's many green spaces for a walk. It's probably still too wet to sit on the grass but it's a great place for people watching. If you go to Mount Royal you can hike through the woods. There are reports of families of hawks living there. If you're lucky, you can see all of them circling above you, hunting for the small prey that has emerged from the snow.
If you make it downtown you could stop by the Montreal Museum of Fine Art. Not only does it have a new visiting exhibition in town, the permanent collection showcases breathtaking works of art by the Masters and you can visit it for free. Downtown also has some of the most epic architecture in the city. Just walking down Sherbrooke street is an event in itself. While you're there, take a stroll through the campus of McGill University and see how many gargoyles you can spot dotting the historic buildings. The Reservoir just above campus is a great place for outdoor jogging, perfect for working off those winter pounds.
Spring in Montreal might not be as warm as one would like, but it's still a great time to enjoy the city. The pleasure the citizens feel at being able to go outdoors is palpable and the many ways to have fun without spending money are finally accessible again. Just make sure to bring an umbrella!
About Me
- Laura
- I don't much care for human nature unless it's all candied over with art.
12/23/2014
Fiction - Xmas POW
She'd been with him since the last year of the Elf War, when he found her half dead in the shadow of a smoldering pine tree. Nicholas slung her over his shoulder, her blood staining his white beard, and carried her to his fortified cabin.
By the time she recovered, the war had been won. The small contingent of prisoners he kept penned outside jeered at her when she emerged, blinking, onto the snow covered porch.
She showed them kindness, as was her way. She tried to convince Nicholas to register the prisoners with the War Authority, which was a tenet of the peace treaty.
"You can't just keep them chained! They have rights." They fought that night, their only fight. But he looked at the scars on her face and wanted to kill the elves, one by one.
In the end, she won. The elves were registered and put to work. Nicholas had been an artisan before he was a soldier so the elves took up his work. As repatriation the toys they made were shipped out, once a year, to the children of the world the elves had tried to ravage.
That they were immortal was not the fault of Nicholas, or his wife, who were not. One day in the far future, they would die and some other, younger of their kind would move into the cabin to keep watch. For eternity the elves would toil day and night, applying make shift salves to their bleeding hands and singing ancient songs to skies embroidered by Northern Lights.
In the meantime, Nicholas fed his reindeer better fare than he afforded the prisoners. When he wasn’t looking, Mrs. Clause brought cookies to the elves and wrote letters to the government, arguing for their freedom.
By the time she recovered, the war had been won. The small contingent of prisoners he kept penned outside jeered at her when she emerged, blinking, onto the snow covered porch.
She showed them kindness, as was her way. She tried to convince Nicholas to register the prisoners with the War Authority, which was a tenet of the peace treaty.
"You can't just keep them chained! They have rights." They fought that night, their only fight. But he looked at the scars on her face and wanted to kill the elves, one by one.
In the end, she won. The elves were registered and put to work. Nicholas had been an artisan before he was a soldier so the elves took up his work. As repatriation the toys they made were shipped out, once a year, to the children of the world the elves had tried to ravage.
That they were immortal was not the fault of Nicholas, or his wife, who were not. One day in the far future, they would die and some other, younger of their kind would move into the cabin to keep watch. For eternity the elves would toil day and night, applying make shift salves to their bleeding hands and singing ancient songs to skies embroidered by Northern Lights.
In the meantime, Nicholas fed his reindeer better fare than he afforded the prisoners. When he wasn’t looking, Mrs. Clause brought cookies to the elves and wrote letters to the government, arguing for their freedom.
8/22/2014
Fiction - As Yet Untitled Romance Series - Part 3
While I waited for my boyfriend Simon to join me and Talia at the restaurant, I spotted one of the very last people I ever wanted to see.
“Oh no,” I groaned, ducking my head. “It’s Vincent Malone!”
“Who?” Talia whirling around.
“For god sakes, Tal, don’t look.”
“Sorry!”
“It’s my dad’s business partner. I can’t stand him. He’s so condescending. And lecherous. He likes to tell you why you’re wrong about pretty much everything while staring straight at your boobs.”
“Oh, yuck. Just ignore him.”
“I’m trying!”
I disliked talking to Vincent Malone at the best of times. But now, half way buzzed and starving, I might lose my mind and tell him what I actually thought of him, which of course wasn’t anything nice.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom!” I staged whispered to Talia. “Come and get me when he’s gone.”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Wait, he’s sitting down. What if he’s here all evening?”
“Then bring me some breadsticks!”
Thankfully Simon’s hulking form emerged from around the corner. He sank down in the seat in front of me, completely blocking me from view of the rest of the restaurant.
The food eventually arrived. It was absolutely to die for - honey roasted lamb with baked apples and fennel. I ate more than my fair share to try to mop up some of the alcohol.
“Just one more drink!” Talia said when we finished eating and I made to get the check.
“Oh no. I’ve had more than enough tonight.” Besides, I wanted to get a good night’s sleep so I’d be prepared for my meeting with Trenton tomorrow. For some reason I didn’t want to say anything about it in front of Simon.
I was so distracted by thoughts of Trenton) that I had completely forgotten about slimy Vincent Malone. When I went to get our coats, he caught me by the elbow and I actually shrieked in surprise.
“Pleasure to see you here, Cara.”
He had a manner of saying things in a way that made you think he’d rather say something much, much dirtier. Like, “pleasure to see you here, Cara, I think about you naked all the time”.
“Hi Vincent,” I said flatly. I hoped the coat check attendant would be quick. “How are you?”
“I’m well. I was thinking about you today, actually.”
I shuddered imperceptibly.
“Your father tells me you’re starting a business. I would like to discuss it with you. It would be a shame for you to make the same mistakes as so many other recent graduates.”
Whatever goodwill I’d felt toward my dad earlier in the day for getting me in contact with Trenton melted away. The last thing I wanted to do was have a heart to heart with Vincent about why I was too stupid to run my own business.
“Sure,” I lied. “I’d like that. Let me call you and we’ll set something up.”
I didn’t have his phone number, of course. Before he could offer it, I grabbed my coat and, with a cursory smile, bolted out the door.
When Simon and I got back to my place the day began to catch up with me. I was exhausted.
Tomorrow, I told myself for the umpteenth time. I`ll break it off with him tomorrow.
As we lay on the couch with poor Simon dutifully rubbing my feet, I tried to mentally prepare myself for my meeting with Trenton. Maybe he would be interested in being a full partner. Maybe we could work together in a cozy office downtown, just the two of us. As a tenured professor, he’d probably be too busy for that. Unless there was something I could do to convince him…
“Oh no,” I groaned, ducking my head. “It’s Vincent Malone!”
“Who?” Talia whirling around.
“For god sakes, Tal, don’t look.”
“Sorry!”
“It’s my dad’s business partner. I can’t stand him. He’s so condescending. And lecherous. He likes to tell you why you’re wrong about pretty much everything while staring straight at your boobs.”
“Oh, yuck. Just ignore him.”
“I’m trying!”
I disliked talking to Vincent Malone at the best of times. But now, half way buzzed and starving, I might lose my mind and tell him what I actually thought of him, which of course wasn’t anything nice.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom!” I staged whispered to Talia. “Come and get me when he’s gone.”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Wait, he’s sitting down. What if he’s here all evening?”
“Then bring me some breadsticks!”
Thankfully Simon’s hulking form emerged from around the corner. He sank down in the seat in front of me, completely blocking me from view of the rest of the restaurant.
The food eventually arrived. It was absolutely to die for - honey roasted lamb with baked apples and fennel. I ate more than my fair share to try to mop up some of the alcohol.
“Just one more drink!” Talia said when we finished eating and I made to get the check.
“Oh no. I’ve had more than enough tonight.” Besides, I wanted to get a good night’s sleep so I’d be prepared for my meeting with Trenton tomorrow. For some reason I didn’t want to say anything about it in front of Simon.
I was so distracted by thoughts of Trenton) that I had completely forgotten about slimy Vincent Malone. When I went to get our coats, he caught me by the elbow and I actually shrieked in surprise.
“Pleasure to see you here, Cara.”
He had a manner of saying things in a way that made you think he’d rather say something much, much dirtier. Like, “pleasure to see you here, Cara, I think about you naked all the time”.
“Hi Vincent,” I said flatly. I hoped the coat check attendant would be quick. “How are you?”
“I’m well. I was thinking about you today, actually.”
I shuddered imperceptibly.
“Your father tells me you’re starting a business. I would like to discuss it with you. It would be a shame for you to make the same mistakes as so many other recent graduates.”
Whatever goodwill I’d felt toward my dad earlier in the day for getting me in contact with Trenton melted away. The last thing I wanted to do was have a heart to heart with Vincent about why I was too stupid to run my own business.
“Sure,” I lied. “I’d like that. Let me call you and we’ll set something up.”
I didn’t have his phone number, of course. Before he could offer it, I grabbed my coat and, with a cursory smile, bolted out the door.
When Simon and I got back to my place the day began to catch up with me. I was exhausted.
Tomorrow, I told myself for the umpteenth time. I`ll break it off with him tomorrow.
As we lay on the couch with poor Simon dutifully rubbing my feet, I tried to mentally prepare myself for my meeting with Trenton. Maybe he would be interested in being a full partner. Maybe we could work together in a cozy office downtown, just the two of us. As a tenured professor, he’d probably be too busy for that. Unless there was something I could do to convince him…
Fiction - As Yet Untitled Romance Series - Part 2
Part 2
“Cara Ambrose!”
When the Dean called my name I skipped across the stage to collect my diploma. Because I’m close to the start of the alphabet the applause was still fairly strong – people hadn’t yet begun to wilt with the wait.
Sitting back down in the audience I waited for my best friend Talia’s name to be called while daydreaming about my upcoming meeting with Professo- oops, I mean, Trenton. Not only did being near him give me goose bumps and make me breathe a little heavier, his expertise really would be invaluable.
It was SO important to get this business off the ground as soon as possible. I couldn’t rely on my parents to pay my rent and buy me clothes and food forever. Well, technically I could, but I didn’t labor through an MBA at Harvard just end up a layabout.
When Talia finally crossed the stage I crept from my seat and away from the rest of the graduates. I made my way to the back of the field where she and I had arranged to meet, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted by boyfriend Simon.
“We did it!” Talia shouted when she joined me.
“Should we stay until the end?” I asked, giving her a big hug. “Throw our caps and all that?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’m starving. And my god do I want a drink.”
“Okay. But let’s go before Simon finds us.”
She shot me A Look.
“Are you ever going to break up with him Cara? It’s getting pretty silly at this point.”
“Yes, yes. Just…not today.”
“You said you were waiting until graduation.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it the very second I graduate.”
Simon wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it, actually. He was nice enough and more than dedicated to me. I should be happy to marry him. The only problem was he was boring as anything. He liked sports, studying and working out and that was it. Òur parents were old friends and they’d set us up on a blind date two years ago. He’d just kind of stuck around after that.
The sex was good though. I’d give him that.
“So we’re just going to ditch him?” Talia asked.
“Ugh, no, I guess not.” I may not be in love with my boyfriend but that was no reason to be mean.
I got him on the phone and told him to meet us at Mistral Bistro, an upscale restaurant nearby.
When Talia and I got there she immediately ordered us two stiff drinks. I tried to drink mine slowly. At 5’2” and 110 lbs it didn’t take a lot to get me drunk and I didn’t relish the thought of passing out at the table before we’d even eaten.
“So how are you going to break it off with Simon?” she asked, ever the gossip.
I didn’t know. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried to think of a way I could do it without hurting his feelings too much. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe I should just stay with him forever, then. Get married, have a bunch of babies and watch a lot of sports before I died. That didn’t seem very appealing, either. This was going to be tough.
“Cara Ambrose!”
When the Dean called my name I skipped across the stage to collect my diploma. Because I’m close to the start of the alphabet the applause was still fairly strong – people hadn’t yet begun to wilt with the wait.
Sitting back down in the audience I waited for my best friend Talia’s name to be called while daydreaming about my upcoming meeting with Professo- oops, I mean, Trenton. Not only did being near him give me goose bumps and make me breathe a little heavier, his expertise really would be invaluable.
It was SO important to get this business off the ground as soon as possible. I couldn’t rely on my parents to pay my rent and buy me clothes and food forever. Well, technically I could, but I didn’t labor through an MBA at Harvard just end up a layabout.
When Talia finally crossed the stage I crept from my seat and away from the rest of the graduates. I made my way to the back of the field where she and I had arranged to meet, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted by boyfriend Simon.
“We did it!” Talia shouted when she joined me.
“Should we stay until the end?” I asked, giving her a big hug. “Throw our caps and all that?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’m starving. And my god do I want a drink.”
“Okay. But let’s go before Simon finds us.”
She shot me A Look.
“Are you ever going to break up with him Cara? It’s getting pretty silly at this point.”
“Yes, yes. Just…not today.”
“You said you were waiting until graduation.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it the very second I graduate.”
Simon wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it, actually. He was nice enough and more than dedicated to me. I should be happy to marry him. The only problem was he was boring as anything. He liked sports, studying and working out and that was it. Òur parents were old friends and they’d set us up on a blind date two years ago. He’d just kind of stuck around after that.
The sex was good though. I’d give him that.
“So we’re just going to ditch him?” Talia asked.
“Ugh, no, I guess not.” I may not be in love with my boyfriend but that was no reason to be mean.
I got him on the phone and told him to meet us at Mistral Bistro, an upscale restaurant nearby.
When Talia and I got there she immediately ordered us two stiff drinks. I tried to drink mine slowly. At 5’2” and 110 lbs it didn’t take a lot to get me drunk and I didn’t relish the thought of passing out at the table before we’d even eaten.
“So how are you going to break it off with Simon?” she asked, ever the gossip.
I didn’t know. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried to think of a way I could do it without hurting his feelings too much. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe I should just stay with him forever, then. Get married, have a bunch of babies and watch a lot of sports before I died. That didn’t seem very appealing, either. This was going to be tough.
Fiction - As Yet Untitled Romance Series - Part 1
These pieces were written as a submission for Cosmopolitan magazine's Bedroom Blog (which is possibly now defunct? I can't seem to find the master URL for the series). I didn't get the gig but this was surprisingly fun to write. It was interesting to try out a new, much lighter and more carefree style. People criticize romance but honestly, I find it freeing to write. I mean, it's a little silly, but isn't that the point?
I'd like to keep adding to this story, maybe as a weekly ongoing series.
Enjoy!
PART 1
“So is dad coming or what?”
My mom was turned away from me, her cellphone hidden beneath her perfectly coiffed, ever-shining blonde hair.
“Mom? Hello?”
She turned and held up a slim finger. Her ice blue eyes, so exactly like mine, were crinkled in concentration.
I looked around. Students in their black and red graduation robes were still milling around, chatting with each other and with their families. Fixing my own robe at the collar, I tapped my foot impatiently, my pedicured toenails flashing in the sun.
“He can’t make it,” my mom said finally, hanging up the phone.
As usual, I kept my face impassive, swallowing my disappointment. If I said anything, she would have lectured me on how it was enough that he paid for my education and he had only been able to do so by working as much as he did.
But seriously! What parent doesn't make the time to come to their only child’s graduation from Harvard business school?
“Fine,” I said, then repeated it in a more cheerful voice. “I think we have to line up now anyway so…”
But my mom was already back on the phone, probably talking to a client.
I mimed at her that I was leaving and she nodded at me distractedly.
As I waited with the rest of my classmates I tried to remind myself that I deserved to enjoy this day, regardless of whether my parents were excited for me. I’d worked hard for this degree, dammit!
My mood took a big upswing when I spotted Professor Trenton Chambers. One of the youngest people to ever be tenured at Harvard Business School, at 30 he was not only brilliant but tanned and fit with a bright white smile he flashed easily.
I’m sure I wasn’t his only student who often thought about sleeping with him.
I realized a second too late that I was staring. To my surprise he came sauntering over when he caught my eye.
“Cara! Congrats on your big day!”
“Thanks, thanks,” I stammered, feeling a flush start to creep up my cheekbones.
“Listen, I was speaking with your dad the other day. He told me about the business you’re getting off the ground. It sounds really interesting. You know that it’s exactly in my area of expertise, right?”
Of course I did. That’s what’s inspired me to look into it.
“Why don’t we sit down together?” he went on. “I love working with start-ups. Maybe we can exchange some ideas.”
“Um, yes. I would love it. I mean, yes, ideas. I love ideas.”
Oh Cara, I thought. Stop blushing like a school girl. You’re a professional business woman now.
I squared my shoulders with confidence and looked at him straight in the eye. They were hazel, with lovely, dark lashes and…
“…give me your number,” he was saying. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“One thousand percent!” I said like a complete dork.
“Great. I’ll call you in the morning to set up a time.”
“Thanks, Professor Chambers.”
He laughed. “You’re graduating now, Cara. You can call me Trenton.”
We smiled at each other. Was it my imagination or did he hesitate before walking away? Maybe he enjoyed talking to me as much I did talking to him.
Waiting to go onstage to receive my degree, I no longer minded at all that my dad wasn’t in the audience to see me graduate. He’d helped set up a meeting with Trenton Chambers! That more than made up for his absence.
I'd like to keep adding to this story, maybe as a weekly ongoing series.
Enjoy!
PART 1
“So is dad coming or what?”
My mom was turned away from me, her cellphone hidden beneath her perfectly coiffed, ever-shining blonde hair.
“Mom? Hello?”
She turned and held up a slim finger. Her ice blue eyes, so exactly like mine, were crinkled in concentration.
I looked around. Students in their black and red graduation robes were still milling around, chatting with each other and with their families. Fixing my own robe at the collar, I tapped my foot impatiently, my pedicured toenails flashing in the sun.
“He can’t make it,” my mom said finally, hanging up the phone.
As usual, I kept my face impassive, swallowing my disappointment. If I said anything, she would have lectured me on how it was enough that he paid for my education and he had only been able to do so by working as much as he did.
But seriously! What parent doesn't make the time to come to their only child’s graduation from Harvard business school?
“Fine,” I said, then repeated it in a more cheerful voice. “I think we have to line up now anyway so…”
But my mom was already back on the phone, probably talking to a client.
I mimed at her that I was leaving and she nodded at me distractedly.
As I waited with the rest of my classmates I tried to remind myself that I deserved to enjoy this day, regardless of whether my parents were excited for me. I’d worked hard for this degree, dammit!
My mood took a big upswing when I spotted Professor Trenton Chambers. One of the youngest people to ever be tenured at Harvard Business School, at 30 he was not only brilliant but tanned and fit with a bright white smile he flashed easily.
I’m sure I wasn’t his only student who often thought about sleeping with him.
I realized a second too late that I was staring. To my surprise he came sauntering over when he caught my eye.
“Cara! Congrats on your big day!”
“Thanks, thanks,” I stammered, feeling a flush start to creep up my cheekbones.
“Listen, I was speaking with your dad the other day. He told me about the business you’re getting off the ground. It sounds really interesting. You know that it’s exactly in my area of expertise, right?”
Of course I did. That’s what’s inspired me to look into it.
“Why don’t we sit down together?” he went on. “I love working with start-ups. Maybe we can exchange some ideas.”
“Um, yes. I would love it. I mean, yes, ideas. I love ideas.”
Oh Cara, I thought. Stop blushing like a school girl. You’re a professional business woman now.
I squared my shoulders with confidence and looked at him straight in the eye. They were hazel, with lovely, dark lashes and…
“…give me your number,” he was saying. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“One thousand percent!” I said like a complete dork.
“Great. I’ll call you in the morning to set up a time.”
“Thanks, Professor Chambers.”
He laughed. “You’re graduating now, Cara. You can call me Trenton.”
We smiled at each other. Was it my imagination or did he hesitate before walking away? Maybe he enjoyed talking to me as much I did talking to him.
Waiting to go onstage to receive my degree, I no longer minded at all that my dad wasn’t in the audience to see me graduate. He’d helped set up a meeting with Trenton Chambers! That more than made up for his absence.
8/12/2014
Where I Write
I'm trying to figure out if this is too many places:
1. Twitter, for bon mots.
2. Facebook, for photos family might like to see, and the occasionally spat re: politics.
3. Tumblr. I should barely count this because the most I'll ever write is a sentence or two praising some half-naked cosplayer. Otherwise I don't interact much with others and almost never make my own posts, except when it's to bitch about something that happened involving someone on my Twitter/FB/Internet Forum that isn't worth putting into my diary but those I usually delete after five minutes anyway because talking behind people's backs makes me feel bad.
Otherwise Tumblr is mostly a repository for articles and commentary on feminism and other social activism and pictures of things I might like to purchase on Etsy. This is still fun and good.
4. An Internet Forum That will Not Be Named. This is where I put personal silliness.
5. Big black hardcover book of half finished stories and doodles done in the bath (cover is waterproof).
6. Diary, for the very personal silliness.
7. Book of letters to my unborn son (awwww, valedictorian of prepping for baby).
8. Here?
9. Spiral bound notebook for current stories, kept in purse.
10. Massive binder of unfinished stories on loose leaf. Occasionally rifled through, rarely added to.
11. 'Writing' folder on my laptop. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
12. Notepad. Mostly for lists, budgets, rough drafts of internet comments etc.
Will soon be adding 13. Baby book
Would I write more effectively if this was streamlined?
1. Twitter, for bon mots.
2. Facebook, for photos family might like to see, and the occasionally spat re: politics.
3. Tumblr. I should barely count this because the most I'll ever write is a sentence or two praising some half-naked cosplayer. Otherwise I don't interact much with others and almost never make my own posts, except when it's to bitch about something that happened involving someone on my Twitter/FB/Internet Forum that isn't worth putting into my diary but those I usually delete after five minutes anyway because talking behind people's backs makes me feel bad.
Otherwise Tumblr is mostly a repository for articles and commentary on feminism and other social activism and pictures of things I might like to purchase on Etsy. This is still fun and good.
4. An Internet Forum That will Not Be Named. This is where I put personal silliness.
5. Big black hardcover book of half finished stories and doodles done in the bath (cover is waterproof).
6. Diary, for the very personal silliness.
7. Book of letters to my unborn son (awwww, valedictorian of prepping for baby).
8. Here?
9. Spiral bound notebook for current stories, kept in purse.
10. Massive binder of unfinished stories on loose leaf. Occasionally rifled through, rarely added to.
11. 'Writing' folder on my laptop. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
12. Notepad. Mostly for lists, budgets, rough drafts of internet comments etc.
Will soon be adding 13. Baby book
Would I write more effectively if this was streamlined?
2/14/2014
Blog - Hairspiration
I've been growing my fine, plain brown hair out and it's taking a long time. I've heard most people's hair grows at the same rate but I cut it to the nape of my neck two years ago and it's only now just barely touched down below my shoulders. My fiance, on the other hand, hasn't trimmed his hair in a few months and now has a veritable hair cape. This is my struggle.
When I was a teen, my hair grew like a thicket. It was hippie long and tragically, perpetually parted down the middle. As I got older, my hair lost the strength to support itself. When it started getting long it would start breaking, especially around the crown. There's a special kind of humility that manifests when buying hair thinning solution from the salon (with a gift card, of course) at 28 years old.
I use Aveda Invati
It's a tonic that invigorates your scalp to open pores and promote hair growth. It does this with chemicals and magic. Amazingly, and thankfully for the price, it works! I use it sparingly enough, targeting only the worst areas. While my hair isn't model-thick, I can no longer see my scalp anywhere I'm not supposed to.
On suggestion of my hair stylist I try to keep it short in the front to prevent the hair from breaking under it's own weight. However, I usually cut my own hair, and since I have the skills of a hyperactive monkey figuring out how to use scissors for the first time, I've managed to fashion myself one hell of a lady mullet.
(i.e. but 1000% less cute)
I have done my worst trying to get it to look respectable so there's nothing left to do but leave it alone and let it grow out. Time heals all wounds.
But I hate it right now. It's boring and I'm bored and winter is long. So I'm going to do something that the introvert in me is railing against and dye it a bright and crazy colour.
My experience with this begins and ends with high school experimentation with Manic Panic. And since I went to a progressive, do-it-yourself, fascist high school, I was never allowed to actually dye all the hair on my head, just the tips. This worked when my hair was long but since it's now 16 different lengths, I fear replicating that look will make me appear like some kind of diseased clown. So it's all or nothing.
But there are so many options:
and I'm not crazy confident that I can do it properly myself. I'd also like to avoid bleaching my hair if at all possible.
Which is why I'm asking you, dear blogosphere, for your help. Have you ever dyed your hair a bright colour? Did you do it yourself? Is it possible to get great results without bleach? How do you avoid looking childish, or cheap? What colour do you think would be best for someone with a very pale complexion?
When I was a teen, my hair grew like a thicket. It was hippie long and tragically, perpetually parted down the middle. As I got older, my hair lost the strength to support itself. When it started getting long it would start breaking, especially around the crown. There's a special kind of humility that manifests when buying hair thinning solution from the salon (with a gift card, of course) at 28 years old.
I use Aveda Invati
On suggestion of my hair stylist I try to keep it short in the front to prevent the hair from breaking under it's own weight. However, I usually cut my own hair, and since I have the skills of a hyperactive monkey figuring out how to use scissors for the first time, I've managed to fashion myself one hell of a lady mullet.
I have done my worst trying to get it to look respectable so there's nothing left to do but leave it alone and let it grow out. Time heals all wounds.
But I hate it right now. It's boring and I'm bored and winter is long. So I'm going to do something that the introvert in me is railing against and dye it a bright and crazy colour.
My experience with this begins and ends with high school experimentation with Manic Panic. And since I went to a progressive, do-it-yourself, fascist high school, I was never allowed to actually dye all the hair on my head, just the tips. This worked when my hair was long but since it's now 16 different lengths, I fear replicating that look will make me appear like some kind of diseased clown. So it's all or nothing.
But there are so many options:
and I'm not crazy confident that I can do it properly myself. I'd also like to avoid bleaching my hair if at all possible.
Which is why I'm asking you, dear blogosphere, for your help. Have you ever dyed your hair a bright colour? Did you do it yourself? Is it possible to get great results without bleach? How do you avoid looking childish, or cheap? What colour do you think would be best for someone with a very pale complexion?
2/09/2014
Blog - Etsy Valentine's Day Wishlist
Valentine's Day isn't for everyone. But if you like Hallmark Holidays, and a little fun and romance, here are some options that will let you have a perfect day.
Step one: find a Valentine and declare your intentions.
If cards aren't your style, write out a love letter or a dirty limerick to slip into your Valentine's pocket.
Or, for the more private among us, tell your diary all about your secret crush.
Next step: bathe.
and accessorize for your date!
Pucker up
And if all goes well, maybe you'll have a cup of coffee or tea together the next morning.
(if things go really well, there might be a ring in the future).
But failing all of that, be your own Valentine and stay home, have a glass of wine and treat yourself to something nice.
Happy Valentine's Day!
(all photos are credited to their respective shop owners).
2/08/2014
Blog - ALL CAPS
So this genius article popped up on my twitter feed. Normally I would just bypass something so obviously shallow, misinformed and poorly written but today I thought I'd have some fun. Even though the author is using half-truths and hyperbole to create a veneer where it sounds like she's presenting reasonable arguments, here's what she's really saying:
1. Spending a few years as a ‘house spouse’ actually sounds awesome
Who the hell knows what they want to do in their 20’s. Having five to ten years to figure it out, while filling our Instagram with pictures of puppies and kiddos, sounds like a blessing. Neither stay-at-home-moms nor dads deserve ridicule or bizarre sympathy for taking care of their families.
FEMINISTS DON'T WANT ANYONE TO TAKE CARE OF THEIR FAMILIES! FEMINISTS DON'T WANT WOMEN TO HAVE ADEQUATE MATERNITY LEAVE OR MEN PATERNITY LEAVE. FEMINISTS MAKE FUN OF MEN FOR STAYING HOME WITH THEIR KIDS. FEMINISTS INSIST THAT WOMEN SHOULD NEVER STAY HOME WITH THEIR CHILDREN. IN FACT, FEMINISTS DON'T CARE ABOUT CHILDREN AT ALL. FEMINISTS WANT ALL PEOPLE TO WORK ALL THE TIME.
2. Sometimes us lady millennials like to shave our legs, dress up, and drop it low like no one’s watching
We’re not exploiting ourselves–we’re having fun, dammit, and we shouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.
FEMINISM INSISTS THAT YOU NEVER SHAVE YOUR LEGS, DRESS UP OR DANCE. THERE IS NO CONTEXT WHATSOEVER IN WHICH ANY OF THESE BEHAVIOURS COULD EVER BE EXPLOITATIVE. CRITICIZING A CULTURAL NORM WHERE WOMEN ARE EXPECTED TO DO ALL THESE THINGS TO BE CONSIDERED VALUABLE AND ATTRACTIVE IS THE SAME THING AS PERSONALLY CRITICIZING ME FOR DOING THEM. EVEN THOUGH SOCIETY AUTOMATICALLY REWARDS ME FOR DOING THESE THINGS IT IS NOT IMPORTANT TO CONSIDER HOW WOMEN WHO DON'T LIKE TO DO THESE THINGS MIGHT FEEL MARGINALIZED.
3. Chivalry is NOT dead
It’s nice when someone pursues you, takes you out on dates, and surprises you with little things here and there. The difference between Millennial women and our mothers is that we understand ‘chivalry,’ in this day in age, is a two way street; everyone, regardless of sex or gender, likes and deserves to be treated like they’re special."
IF YOU ARE A FEMINIST YOU MAY NEVER TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THEY'RE SPECIAL. FEMINISTS HATE DATING AND SURPRISES. OUR MOTHERS ARE THE ONES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MISOGYNY AND SEXISM THAT USED TO PASS FOR CHIVALRY.
4. Cooking and cleaning are not only great ways to destress but they’re vital to healthy, happy living
No one should feel guilty about ‘taking time away from their career’ to keep a tidy home and nourish their body.
FEMINISM MEANS HAVING A DIRTY HOME AND NEGLECTING YOUR BODY. FEMINISTS MUST WORK ALL THE TIME BECAUSE BEING A WORKAHOLIC IS THE ONLY THING FEMINISM CARES ABOUT.
5. We’ve seen and felt the effects of being ‘raised’ by two absentee parents
We were raised in daycares and drive-thrus and can vouch that most of us didn’t turn out so well. Furthermore, with childhood obesity and depression rates ever-increasing there’s clearly something to having a supportive and nurturing parent at home.
THE ONLY WAY TO RAISE A CHILD PROPERLY IS TO HAVE ONE PARENT STAY HOME WITH THEM. TOO BAD IF YOU ARE TOO POOR FOR THIS TO BE AN OPTION. ALL WORKING PARENTS RAISE BAD CHILDREN. ALL STAY AT HOME PARENTS RAISE GOOD CHILDREN. DEPRESSION AND OBESITY IS DIRECTLY CORRELATED WITH HAVING A STAY AT HOME PARENT. FEMINISM SAYS THAT NO PARENT SHOULD EVER STAY HOME WITH THEIR CHILDREN AND THAT CHILDREN SHOULD ONLY BE FED FAST FOOD. WOMEN ESPECIALLY MUST WORK. IT IS INCONCEIVABLE TO A FEMINIST THAT WOMEN COULD EVER BE EXPECTED TO DO ANYTHING BUT PURSUE A CAREER.
6. Even though it’s an inaccurate portrayal, the word ‘feminism’ makes most men think of hairy armpits and angry, man-hating lesbians
Furthermore, a lot of what feminism seems to be doing now is the very thing it sought to destroy in hopes of peace and equality. The word has become threatening and creates a mentality of isolation and competition rather than the sense of collaboration this broken world so desperately needs.
LESBIANS, WOMEN WHO DON'T REMOVE THEIR BODY HAIR AND WOMEN WHO GET ANGRY ARE DISGUSTING SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE THEY ARE UNATTRACTIVE TO MEN. I COULD NEVER BE ASSOCIATED WITH SOMETHING THAT MEN DO NOT FIND ATTRACTIVE. I WILL NOT EXAMINE THE REASONS WHY THAT IS. BECAUSE THEY ARE UNATTRACTIVE TO MEN THEY ARE THREATENING. THIS IS TOO BAD BECAUSE MEN ARE JUST WAITING FOR WOMEN TO BE HOTTER AND MORE DOCILE SO THEY CAN GIVE US EQUALITY. BECAUSE IF HISTORY HAS SHOWN US ANYTHING IT'S THAT PEOPLE WITH POWER AND PRIVILEGE ALWAYS RELINQUISH IT WHEN THOSE WHO ARE MARGINALIZED ASK NICELY.
AND EVEN THOUGH FEMINISM ADVOCATES FOR RAPE VICTIMS, PEOPLE AFFECTED BY DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EQUAL AND FAIR REPRESENTATION IN POLITICS AND THE MEDIA, EQUAL PAY FOR EQUAL WORK, THE RIGHT OF WOMEN ALL OVER THE WORLD TO DRIVE, GET DIVORCED, VOTE, NOT BE MURDERED OR MUTILATED IN THE NAME OF "HONOUR" OR SOLD INTO SEXUAL SLAVERY ETC., WHAT I REALLY CARE ABOUT IT THAT EVERYONE KNOWS I SHAVE MY LEGS BECAUSE THAT'S HOW PRIVILEGED I AM.
IN MY PRIVILEGED VIEW WITHOUT FEMINISM THE ENTIRE WORLD IS UN-THREATENING AND FULL OF COMMUNITY AND COLLABORATION. BARRIERS DO NOT EXIST IN SOCIETY. FEMINISM CREATES THEM. I WILL NOT GIVE YOU A SINGLE EXAMPLE OF HOW THAT IS THE CASE. WITHOUT FEMINISM, THINGS WOULD JUST SORT THEMSELVES OUT. FEMINISM IS NOT SUCCESSFUL IN ACHIEVING PEACE AND EQUALITY.
7. Most importantly, declaring oneself a feminist can feel victimizing and disempowering
Each of us is in charge of taking control of our life and working for what we really want. Some of us, both men and women, don’t want to be CEOs, scientists and politicians; and that should be okay too!
THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO ARE FEMINISTS ARE CEOS, SCIENTISTS AND POLITICIANS. NO FEMINISTS ARE ARTISTS, STAY AT HOME MOMS, HOUSE CLEANERS, TEACHERS OR UNEMPLOYED. FEMINISM DOES NOT WANT YOU TO WORK FOR WHAT YOU WANT. THE REASON WOMEN AREN'T EQUAL IS BECAUSE THEY HAVEN'T WORKED FOR WHAT THEY WANT AS MUCH AS MEN HAVE. IF FEMINISM DIDN'T POINT OUT HOW SOCIETY CAN VICTIMIZE WOMEN FOR BEING WOMEN NO ONE WOULD BE VICTIMIZED. IGNORING HOW I OR OTHERS ARE VICTIMIZED IS THE SAME THING AS NOT BEING VICTIMIZED.
And before you get your panties in a bunch, my dear feminist friends- take a second to think about the truth in these explanations. All the millennial women who “aren’t feminists but…” have a right to validation and acceptance; there is a reason why so many of these bright, talented, and ambitious women are rejecting a word, while simultaneously embodying the concept. For peace and progress, we all need to get out of our heads and be open to seeing the story from every side, not just our own.
EVEN THOUGH I'VE OFFERED NO OBJECTIVE EVIDENCE THAT FEMINISM IS UNPOPULAR WITH THIS GENERATION, I'M GOING TO PRETEND IT'S AN EMPIRICAL FACT. LET ME DISMISS YOU MISOGYNISTICALLY IF YOU DISAGREE. I HAVE A RIGHT TO MISREPRESENT FEMINISM. IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE THAT FEMINISM CHALLENGES A STATUS QUO THAT I PERSONALLY BENEFIT FROM AND ENJOY.
1. Spending a few years as a ‘house spouse’ actually sounds awesome
Who the hell knows what they want to do in their 20’s. Having five to ten years to figure it out, while filling our Instagram with pictures of puppies and kiddos, sounds like a blessing. Neither stay-at-home-moms nor dads deserve ridicule or bizarre sympathy for taking care of their families.
FEMINISTS DON'T WANT ANYONE TO TAKE CARE OF THEIR FAMILIES! FEMINISTS DON'T WANT WOMEN TO HAVE ADEQUATE MATERNITY LEAVE OR MEN PATERNITY LEAVE. FEMINISTS MAKE FUN OF MEN FOR STAYING HOME WITH THEIR KIDS. FEMINISTS INSIST THAT WOMEN SHOULD NEVER STAY HOME WITH THEIR CHILDREN. IN FACT, FEMINISTS DON'T CARE ABOUT CHILDREN AT ALL. FEMINISTS WANT ALL PEOPLE TO WORK ALL THE TIME.
2. Sometimes us lady millennials like to shave our legs, dress up, and drop it low like no one’s watching
We’re not exploiting ourselves–we’re having fun, dammit, and we shouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.
FEMINISM INSISTS THAT YOU NEVER SHAVE YOUR LEGS, DRESS UP OR DANCE. THERE IS NO CONTEXT WHATSOEVER IN WHICH ANY OF THESE BEHAVIOURS COULD EVER BE EXPLOITATIVE. CRITICIZING A CULTURAL NORM WHERE WOMEN ARE EXPECTED TO DO ALL THESE THINGS TO BE CONSIDERED VALUABLE AND ATTRACTIVE IS THE SAME THING AS PERSONALLY CRITICIZING ME FOR DOING THEM. EVEN THOUGH SOCIETY AUTOMATICALLY REWARDS ME FOR DOING THESE THINGS IT IS NOT IMPORTANT TO CONSIDER HOW WOMEN WHO DON'T LIKE TO DO THESE THINGS MIGHT FEEL MARGINALIZED.
3. Chivalry is NOT dead
It’s nice when someone pursues you, takes you out on dates, and surprises you with little things here and there. The difference between Millennial women and our mothers is that we understand ‘chivalry,’ in this day in age, is a two way street; everyone, regardless of sex or gender, likes and deserves to be treated like they’re special."
IF YOU ARE A FEMINIST YOU MAY NEVER TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THEY'RE SPECIAL. FEMINISTS HATE DATING AND SURPRISES. OUR MOTHERS ARE THE ONES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MISOGYNY AND SEXISM THAT USED TO PASS FOR CHIVALRY.
4. Cooking and cleaning are not only great ways to destress but they’re vital to healthy, happy living
No one should feel guilty about ‘taking time away from their career’ to keep a tidy home and nourish their body.
FEMINISM MEANS HAVING A DIRTY HOME AND NEGLECTING YOUR BODY. FEMINISTS MUST WORK ALL THE TIME BECAUSE BEING A WORKAHOLIC IS THE ONLY THING FEMINISM CARES ABOUT.
5. We’ve seen and felt the effects of being ‘raised’ by two absentee parents
We were raised in daycares and drive-thrus and can vouch that most of us didn’t turn out so well. Furthermore, with childhood obesity and depression rates ever-increasing there’s clearly something to having a supportive and nurturing parent at home.
THE ONLY WAY TO RAISE A CHILD PROPERLY IS TO HAVE ONE PARENT STAY HOME WITH THEM. TOO BAD IF YOU ARE TOO POOR FOR THIS TO BE AN OPTION. ALL WORKING PARENTS RAISE BAD CHILDREN. ALL STAY AT HOME PARENTS RAISE GOOD CHILDREN. DEPRESSION AND OBESITY IS DIRECTLY CORRELATED WITH HAVING A STAY AT HOME PARENT. FEMINISM SAYS THAT NO PARENT SHOULD EVER STAY HOME WITH THEIR CHILDREN AND THAT CHILDREN SHOULD ONLY BE FED FAST FOOD. WOMEN ESPECIALLY MUST WORK. IT IS INCONCEIVABLE TO A FEMINIST THAT WOMEN COULD EVER BE EXPECTED TO DO ANYTHING BUT PURSUE A CAREER.
6. Even though it’s an inaccurate portrayal, the word ‘feminism’ makes most men think of hairy armpits and angry, man-hating lesbians
Furthermore, a lot of what feminism seems to be doing now is the very thing it sought to destroy in hopes of peace and equality. The word has become threatening and creates a mentality of isolation and competition rather than the sense of collaboration this broken world so desperately needs.
LESBIANS, WOMEN WHO DON'T REMOVE THEIR BODY HAIR AND WOMEN WHO GET ANGRY ARE DISGUSTING SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE THEY ARE UNATTRACTIVE TO MEN. I COULD NEVER BE ASSOCIATED WITH SOMETHING THAT MEN DO NOT FIND ATTRACTIVE. I WILL NOT EXAMINE THE REASONS WHY THAT IS. BECAUSE THEY ARE UNATTRACTIVE TO MEN THEY ARE THREATENING. THIS IS TOO BAD BECAUSE MEN ARE JUST WAITING FOR WOMEN TO BE HOTTER AND MORE DOCILE SO THEY CAN GIVE US EQUALITY. BECAUSE IF HISTORY HAS SHOWN US ANYTHING IT'S THAT PEOPLE WITH POWER AND PRIVILEGE ALWAYS RELINQUISH IT WHEN THOSE WHO ARE MARGINALIZED ASK NICELY.
AND EVEN THOUGH FEMINISM ADVOCATES FOR RAPE VICTIMS, PEOPLE AFFECTED BY DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EQUAL AND FAIR REPRESENTATION IN POLITICS AND THE MEDIA, EQUAL PAY FOR EQUAL WORK, THE RIGHT OF WOMEN ALL OVER THE WORLD TO DRIVE, GET DIVORCED, VOTE, NOT BE MURDERED OR MUTILATED IN THE NAME OF "HONOUR" OR SOLD INTO SEXUAL SLAVERY ETC., WHAT I REALLY CARE ABOUT IT THAT EVERYONE KNOWS I SHAVE MY LEGS BECAUSE THAT'S HOW PRIVILEGED I AM.
IN MY PRIVILEGED VIEW WITHOUT FEMINISM THE ENTIRE WORLD IS UN-THREATENING AND FULL OF COMMUNITY AND COLLABORATION. BARRIERS DO NOT EXIST IN SOCIETY. FEMINISM CREATES THEM. I WILL NOT GIVE YOU A SINGLE EXAMPLE OF HOW THAT IS THE CASE. WITHOUT FEMINISM, THINGS WOULD JUST SORT THEMSELVES OUT. FEMINISM IS NOT SUCCESSFUL IN ACHIEVING PEACE AND EQUALITY.
7. Most importantly, declaring oneself a feminist can feel victimizing and disempowering
Each of us is in charge of taking control of our life and working for what we really want. Some of us, both men and women, don’t want to be CEOs, scientists and politicians; and that should be okay too!
THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO ARE FEMINISTS ARE CEOS, SCIENTISTS AND POLITICIANS. NO FEMINISTS ARE ARTISTS, STAY AT HOME MOMS, HOUSE CLEANERS, TEACHERS OR UNEMPLOYED. FEMINISM DOES NOT WANT YOU TO WORK FOR WHAT YOU WANT. THE REASON WOMEN AREN'T EQUAL IS BECAUSE THEY HAVEN'T WORKED FOR WHAT THEY WANT AS MUCH AS MEN HAVE. IF FEMINISM DIDN'T POINT OUT HOW SOCIETY CAN VICTIMIZE WOMEN FOR BEING WOMEN NO ONE WOULD BE VICTIMIZED. IGNORING HOW I OR OTHERS ARE VICTIMIZED IS THE SAME THING AS NOT BEING VICTIMIZED.
And before you get your panties in a bunch, my dear feminist friends- take a second to think about the truth in these explanations. All the millennial women who “aren’t feminists but…” have a right to validation and acceptance; there is a reason why so many of these bright, talented, and ambitious women are rejecting a word, while simultaneously embodying the concept. For peace and progress, we all need to get out of our heads and be open to seeing the story from every side, not just our own.
EVEN THOUGH I'VE OFFERED NO OBJECTIVE EVIDENCE THAT FEMINISM IS UNPOPULAR WITH THIS GENERATION, I'M GOING TO PRETEND IT'S AN EMPIRICAL FACT. LET ME DISMISS YOU MISOGYNISTICALLY IF YOU DISAGREE. I HAVE A RIGHT TO MISREPRESENT FEMINISM. IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE THAT FEMINISM CHALLENGES A STATUS QUO THAT I PERSONALLY BENEFIT FROM AND ENJOY.
1/09/2014
Fiction - "Resale"
This is a flash fiction sci-fi piece that promises to one day fit into something longer. I look forward to finding out the greater story as it reveals itself. For now, it's just a creepy little excerpt.
"Resale"
"Resale"
Her
hair fell out first, leaving her eyes slick around the rims and her arms smooth
like a newborn. Before her muscles retreated from holding up her bones she
would pat the taut flesh on the back of her head and frown.
"This
isn't what they promised," her husband muttered to whoever paced the
hospital hallways. "She barely seems alive!"
When
the machines around her bed fell into a silent vigil her body was removed to
the flagship processing plant. There her carbon was cremated, hardened into diamond
and packaged for resale.
Her
husband took his receipt of purchase to the customer service counter located on
the lofty main floor.
"I
want a refund," he said, "your guarantee was for 5 years. She didn't
last half that."
"Sir,"
smiled the woman behind the desk, "we understand your disappointment. If I
give you a refund, however, you will forfeit your claim to her material. So,
let me tell you about our profit sharing program! Every time a bit of her
sells, you make money! With payments instantly transferred to your bank
account, you won't have to worry about a thing!"
"Well,"
said the man. "Yes. Yes, I suppose that sounds fine."
1/08/2014
Comic Book - Space Captain
For posterity, here is the preview comic book I co-wrote with Joël.
It debuted at Montreal Comiccon 2011 where it sold out it's initial print run. Our success there attracted the attention of CTV News Montreal who invited us on air for their live Newsmakers segment:
Enjoy!
It debuted at Montreal Comiccon 2011 where it sold out it's initial print run. Our success there attracted the attention of CTV News Montreal who invited us on air for their live Newsmakers segment:
Enjoy!
8/11/2013
Recipe - Baba Ganoush
One of my favourite things to do after a long hard day of writing for no money is to cook. My kitchen has an open view wall facing the living room. While my fiance plays video games, I set up my laptop on the bureau facing (well, on top of the microwave on top of the bureau facing - yes, we have a microwave in our living room. Apartment living is the bomb!) and watch some t.v., usually Iron Chef or some other cooking show.
If I'm really lucky I'll have a beer. If I'm super extra lucky, I have a little helper waiting for me by the door:
Tonight I made Baba Ganoush, a Middle Eastern roasted eggplant dip that's very simple to prepare.
First, you roast the eggplant, which I rub with olive oil and sprinkle with salt before putting it in the oven. Also make sure to prick it all over with a fork or else it will explode.
When it's ready (about 40 minutes), let it cool then peel the skin and discard. The insides go into the food processor (or you can mash it with a fork).
Next, 2 tbs or less of Tahini.
Depending on where you live Tahini might be hard to find, but it's essential and a 6 dollar pot will last you months in the fridge.
Add your seasoning. Basics are lemon, garlic and salt but everything else is to your taste. I like fresh parsley, pepper and a chili. Tonight I used half a jalapeno. You can also put cumin, black olives and sour cream.
Give it a whirl in the food processor and add extra seasoning as needed.
And that's it. Baba Ganoush is fucking awesome and you should make it and eat it with pita and veggies or over rice.
If I'm really lucky I'll have a beer. If I'm super extra lucky, I have a little helper waiting for me by the door:
Tonight I made Baba Ganoush, a Middle Eastern roasted eggplant dip that's very simple to prepare.
First, you roast the eggplant, which I rub with olive oil and sprinkle with salt before putting it in the oven. Also make sure to prick it all over with a fork or else it will explode.
When it's ready (about 40 minutes), let it cool then peel the skin and discard. The insides go into the food processor (or you can mash it with a fork).
Next, 2 tbs or less of Tahini.
Depending on where you live Tahini might be hard to find, but it's essential and a 6 dollar pot will last you months in the fridge.
Add your seasoning. Basics are lemon, garlic and salt but everything else is to your taste. I like fresh parsley, pepper and a chili. Tonight I used half a jalapeno. You can also put cumin, black olives and sour cream.
Give it a whirl in the food processor and add extra seasoning as needed.
And that's it. Baba Ganoush is fucking awesome and you should make it and eat it with pita and veggies or over rice.
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