new year's resolutions & procrastination

Today I did my New Year's Resolutions (I know, I'm late! my first resolution should be to deal with my procrastination problem) and, to do so, I consulted my favourite new year's resolutions questions from David Allen's 2009 blog.

On the topic of procrastination, (and, for a change, unrelated to the favourite-things list), the best discussion I've found on this topic is, surprisingly (to me, anyway), in David Allen's Getting Things Done. (And so today's posting is a rare double endorsement of two aspects of gtd). Although I suppose this second recommendation is faint praise given that, even after reading the procrastination chapter, I'm still doing my New Year's Resolutions 3 months late.

murmur toronto & walking

I went to a talk today and discovered something entirely new: an oral history project that started in Toronto (but has now also moved to other places) that records idiosyncratic and unusual histories of places and streets that you can listen to on your cell phone as you walk. Here's the website: murmur toronto.

And one of Peter G's favourite things would mesh nicely with murmur (if only he lived in Toronto or one of the cities where murmur exists): "doing a 'walkabout' - walking out of our front door and, for the next few hours, following my curiosity wherever it takes me."

spiced lentils with apple crisps and curried yogurt & home-baked bread

Yesterday my favourite thing was having time to cook. And the favourite thing I cooked was a new recipe (for me) from Kevin Graham's Grains, Rice, and Beans. Despite the fact that the recipe says it takes a whopping five(!) hours to make, it really doesn't (read the fine print) and is, in fact, super easy. Here it is:

Title: SPICED LENTILS WITH APPLE CRISPS AND 

CURRIED YOGURT   

Categories: Appetizers  

Yield: 4 servings    Prep Time: 5 hours

1 tb Canola oil        

1 lg Yellow onion; peeled and finely diced

1 ts Garam masala; (Spice mixture sold at Indian food stores 

or other specialty shops)

1 md Bay leaf        

2 Granny Smith apples; peeled,cored, and finely diced        

1 c  Dried green lentils        

2 c  Chicken stock (I used veggie stock)             

Apple Crisps; (recipe follows)             

Curried Yogurt; (recipe follows)

-----------------------APPLE CRISPS------        

1 tb Confectioner’s sugar             

Juice of 2 lemons        

2    Granny Smith apples; peeled and cored    

----------------------CURRIED YOGURT-----        

1 tb Curry powder or garam masala        

1 Banana; peeled and finely diced        

2 c  Plain yogurt       

In a large, heavy saucepan, heat the oil over 

medium-high heat. Add the onion and saute until 

soft, about 4 minutes.  Add the garam masala, bay 

leaf, and apples, and cook, stirring continuously, 

for 2 more minutes. Add the lentils and stock and 

bring the mixture to a boil over high heat. Reduce 

to a simmer    and cook for about 25 minutes or 

until the lentils are tender, being careful not to 

overcook them.  Remove the pan from the heat, 

remove the bay leaf, and adjust seasoning to taste. 

Serve the lentils hot in one large serving bowl. 

Serve the yogurt and apple crisps separately and 

invite diners to combine all three components to 

their    personal taste. Makes 4 appetizer or 2 

main course servings.        

APPLE CRISPS: Preheat the oven to its lowest 

setting. In a small bowl, dissolve the sugar in the 

lemon juice.  Thinly slice the apples horizontally 

into rounds approximately 1/16-inch thick.  Lay the 

apple slices on a baking sheet lined with parchment 

paper and brush lightly with the sugared lemon juice.  

Place the baking sheet in the oven and allow the 

apples to dry, about 3 to 4 hours or overnight.  

Remove the baking sheet from the oven and gently 

peel the apple slices from the paper.(Some 

discoloration of the apple slices will occur.)  

Store in an airtight container until ready to use.  

They will last for 2 days in the refrigerator.        

CURRIED YOGURT:  Heat a small nonstick skillet 

over medium heat. Add the curry powder and toast 

until you can smell its intense aroma, about 30 

seconds. Remove pan from heat.  Combine the curry 

powder with the banana and yogurt in a serving 

bowl, stirring well. Refrigerate until ready to 

use.  Makes 2 cups.      

Source:  Grains, Rice, and Beans by Kevin Graham.     

And, from the list, here is Michael's "favourite recipe for home-baked bread" (a unique category for which there was no other competition on the list): Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread.

I haven't tried this yet but hope to soon.

being wrong & failing quickly

This posting is inspired by Ted (although not because he is often wrong or failing quickly!) One of Ted's favourite books of the past year was Kathryn Schulz's book Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margins of Error. Shutz is a provocative, serious, and very funny writer. This is a non-fiction book and yet I found myself laughing out loud several times in the first chapter alone. She has an extraordinary knack for saying profound things at a quick and spirited pace so that you don’t even realize always what you’re taking in. Here’s the first paragraph (which gives a good sense of the book as whole):

"Why is it so much fun to be right? As pleasures go, it is, after all, a second-order one at best. Unlike many of life's other delights--chocolate, surfing, kissing--it does not enjoy any mainline access to our biochemistry: to our appetites, our adrenal glands, our limbic systems, our swoony hearts. And yet, the thrill be being right is undeniable, universal, and (perhaps most oddly) almost entirely undiscriminating. We can't enjoy kissing just anyone, but we can relish being right about almost anything. The stakes don't seem to matter much; it's more important to bet on the right foreign policy than the right racehorse, but we are perfectly capable of gloating over either one. Nor does subject matter; we can be equally pleased about correctly identifying an orange-crowned warbler or the sexual orientation of our coworker. Stranger still, we can enjoy being right even about disagreeable things: the downturn in the stock market, say, or the demise of a friend's relationship, or the fact that, at our spouse's insistence, we just spent fifteen minutes schlepping our suitcase in exactly the wrong direction" (3-4).

It is fun to be right. I especially like being right when Ted is wrong but what this book argues is that it's right to be wrong, or rather, there are things to be learned from being wrong, and that it is valuable to explore this terrain. It is also valuable, for ourselves and for society, to be wrong. It is out of these experiences that mistakes are corrected (and then corrected again when our new "right" turns out, as it so often does, to be "wrong").

All of this leads me to my second point, which is not favourite-things list related, but is a favourite mantra that Ted told me about a few summers ago at the cottage. Fail quickly. Apparently computer programmers use this attitude so that they don't get too waylaid and invested in projects that will end up going nowhere. It's better to get out early than to continue investing in something that will not have a pay-off in the end. This makes a lot of sense and can be extended from computers to the world of academia. It deflates the stakes and encourages experimentation and creativity without the expectation of success every time. While my work model looks much more like it's conforming to something like "fail slowly" (really, really really slowly) I still like the way this mantra encourages one to name failure and not to be afraid of it.

too much happiness & lines for the fortune cookies

Favourite thing yesterday (and over the last few days): rereading Alice Munro's Too Much Happiness. Before our book group, Joel and I often find ourselves speed reading the required book, looking at each other in stunned amazement--what? book group again? already?--not because we don't enjoy it but just because, despite the fact that we chastise our students for hurrying through material, it seems we can never be organized about such things ourselves. But in the case of Munro's book the speed reading shifted from obligation to pleasure to utter absorption. She is such a spell-binding writer. I'd read most of the stories before when they were first published in The New Yorker and was surprised to find the reading experience pretty much undiminished the second time round. But the story I enjoyed most, nevertheless, was one that I had not read before: "Fiction." I love the subtlety and yet seeringness of the shocks Munro delivers in her writing. When I finish a story it is as if Munro has carved out a little pause in my world, and I stop and think, and the entire world shifts just slightly and everything then continues to carry on.

No one mentioned Munro on the favourite-things list BUT I do have another connection (that is, admittedly, a stretch). Bill A notes Frank O'Hare's poem "Lines for the Fortune Cookies" and one of the lines in the poem is "Who do you think you are?" which is itself the title of a collection of Alice Munro's stories (a collection that, I think, had a different title when it was published in the States because it was believed that Americans would not be pleased by the provocation of the Canadian title.) Here's the poem:

Lines For The Fortune Cookies

Frank O’Hara

I think you're wonderful and so does everyone else.

Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you—even bigger.

You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.

You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.

You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.

In the beginning there was YOU—there will always be YOU, I guess.

You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.

Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.

Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.

Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.

Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.

You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you're legendary!

Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.

You will eat cake.

Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?

You think your life is like Pirandello, but it's really like O'Neill.

A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows? Maybe something will happen.

That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.

I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!

You should wear white more often—it becomes you.

The next person to speak to you will have a very intriquing proposal to make.

A lot of people in this room wish they were you.

Have you been to Mike Goldberg's show? Al Leslie's? Lee Krasner's?

At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.

Now that the election's over, what are you going to do with yourself?

You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.

You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?

Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.

You too could be Premier of France, if only… if only…

two group conversations & conversations in general

My favourite thing today were two very different back-to-back conversations with groups of people. After Lauren's (excellent!) talk tonight at Carleton a bunch of people went to Paddy's and it reminded me of the basic pleasure of talking to people in a group about random shared things: why there are no longer any truly eccentric profs (Lauren's apt observation), how many Victorian novels a student will read in a semester without complaining, and variations on losing one's glasses, among other things. I had to leave early to return to documentary movie night at our house (due to a scheduling glitch on my part, the two events overlapped) and I arrived just in time for the discussion about the documentary. This was a very different group conversation about politics, the insidiousness of corporations, the way that all of the documentaries we watch always seem to arrive at Dick Cheney as the bad guy who started it all (Joel's observation), the genre of spelling bee documentaries (and Chris's incredulity: there's a genre for that?), and the question of why we never seem to watch "happy" documentaries (except for those spelling bee documentaries).

And in terms of conversations in general, many many people on the list noted good conversations in their list of five favourite things. Which is a heartening thing.

the first robin & canoeing

Favourite thing today: stepping outside this morning and seeing a pair of robins in the tree beside our porch. When I was Michal's age I used to record my first robin sighting each year (I can still remember the sense of time passing that it gave me after I'd done it for three years) and each time I see my first spring robin it reminds me of my early bird-watching years. I wanted to be an ornithologist from about 10 years old through 16 and my all-time favourite game (typically played with Steve, the only person I could convince this was fun) was going through our Field Guide to the Birds of North America, covering the names of the birds, and seeing who could identify the bird first. Another variation, possible to play alone, was to go through the Field Guide, covering the names, and to time how long it took to get through and at what level of accuracy. I have recently tried to introduce Michal to the pleasures of birdwatching (most of which I've now forgotten) and am learning what I suppose all parents know: that our own passions are not always our children's. She, alas, rolls her eyes. And I am dumbfounded since for me, still, there is a little bit of awe and wonderment (that feels so visceral that I think it must be universal and everyone must feel this way) with each bird sighting.

And since today's favourite thing is a robin, I thought I'd consult dad's favourite things from the list. One of them is: "paddling on Lake Rosseau." Canoeing, in fact, is another category in which there was a lot of overlap. At least five people listed canoeing as one of their favourite things. Including Steve L who wrote: "Waking at the crack of dawn to go on nature walks or canoeing."

spring snowfall & the man who mistook his wife for a hat

Favourite thing today: after a warm weekend that melted all the snow, I was happy to wake up this morning to a thick slow snowfall. The snow turned to rain at lunch and then back to snow again in the afternoon and it was one of those completely satisfying lazy snowfalls that cover everything in a perfect blanket of white. Here's a picture from our backyard.

And because we were at Rick's on the weekend and this book was on his coffee table, and spring snowfalls are almost as head-shaking as mistaking one's wife for a hat, the item from the favourite things list today is Parker's favourite book: Oliver Sack's The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.

peter zumthor & architecture

Favourite thing yesterday: during a break from prepping for my class I opened an old New York Times Magazine and came across the last page of an article. I was struck by the beauty of the pictures of buildings and interiors but didn't know what the article was about (was it about the buildings? the place? design? the photography?) I flipped to the beginning and discovered an architect I've never heard of before: Peter Zumthor. There is something exquisite and ineffable about his buildings and I want to learn more about him. I haven't had time to read the article (I will today) but I was just happy to look at the images yesterday. (The two photos here are of his work.)

I consulted the list for references to architecture and found only two: the Tate Gallery in London and the National Gallery in Ottawa. But there are no other favourite buildings and no favourite architects at all.

the super moon

Favourite thing on Saturday: seeing the super moon. Thanks to Zoe, we learned that this moon comes once every eighteen years, is 20,000 miles closer to earth, and, as a result, is super bright--hence the super moon. We noticed it Saturday evening walking to Zoe's and, true to Zoe's report, it seemed brighter, sharper, and bigger than the full moon on an ordinary night. It was also beautiful to see the moon suspended just above the pond and the moonlight reflecting off the ice and snow.

breakfast with ben at wild oat & another favourite easy recipe

Favourite thing today: taking Ben to breakfast at Wild Oat. (And, completely by coincidence, going to Wild Oat again for lunch with Frances.) Our breakfast was so delicious--eggs and homefries for me, lemon crepe for Ben--that I thought to myself (unrealistically, but I still believe it even as I write now), "I'm going to come here everyday." And breakfast with Ben was especially great for the eight-year old quality of the conversation. For example: why do sugar cubes hold together in perfect squares if they're pure sugar? shouldn't they fall apart? (as Ben pounds at the cube with the base of his knife and I try to stop him) are they made in a machine? is it heat? do they melt and then stick back together? why do crepes taste better in Paris even when it is exactly the same ingredients? are they the same ingredients? our crepes are a bit better at home too--why? (followed by Ben's earnest reassurance that the crepes at Wild Oat still were really really really good). And so on.

My best breakfast memories: a place in Montreal, long since closed, that was on St Urbain and served baked eggs in oval dishes and impossible-to-replicate (despite the same ingredients when used at home!) cinnamon toast baguettes. Second favourite: a place in Prague that had the most perfect coffee I've ever had in my life (in Prague!)

And from the list I'm recording the "easy recipe" that Paul and Rose included with their "smart stick" recommendation: "Cut up some of your favorite fresh fruit, add some yogurt, a bit of honey and a few Ice cubes. Put into a pitcher, or if you want a single serving into a glass. Insert smart stick. Voila! You have a delicious smoothie."

golden pear soup & cuisinart smart stick

My favourite thing today: golden pear soup. Whenever people ask for my single all-time favourite recipe it's this soup. I've probably made it more than any other recipe and it works beautifully for every occasion: lunch, pregnancy (the one and only thing I could always eat!), general comfort food, fancy dinner party food, ordinary family dinner food. And an added bonus: it's a guaranteed success with (almost) all kids. Tonight we had it for dinner. It was our family plus four impromptu guests (mainly kids). Which is another favourite thing: people staying unexpectedly for dinner. I love the way it makes the house feel festive, the way the kids are always happier with more people, the array of food on the table, all the voices talking, and the sense it gives me of living in a village rather than a city.

Here's the recipe (I got it from the web) (it's from Molly Katzen's Still Life with Menu which is also a favourite cookbook):

Adapted from "Still Life With Menu."
Preparation time: 50 minutes
Yield: 6 servings
Click here for print-friendly version

Fresh pears and sweet potatoes are puréed together and finished off with touches of cinnamon, white wine, and cream. This unusual soup is slightly sweet, slightly tart, and deeply soothing. It is easy to make, and it's hard to believe something that tastes this good can be be so easy.

Steps 1 through 4 can be done ahead of time, and the purée can be refrigerated for a day or two before the finishing touches are added.

1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes (acorn or butternut squash may be substituted.)
4 cups water
1 3-inch stick cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3 large ripe pears (any kind but Bosc)
1 to 2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons dry white wine
1/3 cup half-and-half, light cream, or milk (lowfat or soy okay)
A few dashes of ground white pepper

1. Peel sweet potatoes (or squash), and cut into small pieces. Place in a large saucepan with water, cinnamon stick, and salt. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer until tender (about 15 minutes). Remove the cover and let it simmer an additional 5 minutes over medium heat. Remove and discard the cinnamon stick. Set aside.
2. Peel and core the pears, and cut them into thin slices.
3. In a heavy skillet, sauté pears in butter for about 5 minutes over medium heat, stirring frequently. Add 1/4 cup wine, cover, and simmer about 10 minutes longer over medium heat.
4. Using a food processor with the steel blade or a blender, purée the sweet potatoes (squash) in the cooking water together with the pears-au-jus until smooth. (You may have to do this in several batches.) Transfer to a heavy soup pot or Dutch oven.
5. Add the cream or milk and the remaining 2 tablespoons of wine. Sprinkle in the white pepper. Heat very gently just before serving. (Don't let it boil.)

It says it takes 50 minutes but once you've made it several times, it's more like 15. There are very few things I make that take 50 minutes!

And from the list, Paul and Rose mention an item in the "favourite kitchen gadget" category that is essential to making this soup: Cuisinart Smart Stick. The "smart stick" is a million times easier than a blender.

birds & "one heart"

Favourite thing today: hearing the birds singing outside my window this morning. They're back!

And here's a poem from the list that references birds:

One Heart

Look at the birds. Even flying

is born

out of nothing. The first sky

is inside you, open

at either end of day.

The work of wings

was always freedom, fastening

one heart, to every falling thing.

~ Li-Young Lee

hut in the gatineau (2) & skiing

Yesterday we skied into a hut in the Gatineau for Joel's birthday dinner. Here are some of the highlights: the woods deserted except for our group of friends skiing in at twilight, the sense of darkness literally falling and filling up the spaces between the trees, the light of the half moon, the shadows of the trees and branches on the snow, the crisp, deliberate sound of the skies. And then getting to the hut nestled in a dip at the bottom of a hill: the surprise (it's always this way) when one leaves the quiet of the woods and walks inside to find the hut filled with people, candles flickering, the warmth of the woodburning stove, making cheese fondue, eating a rich and dense chooclate cake Michal made for Joel's birthday, taking Ben to the outhouse (really! this was fun and magical), Farley delighted by this unexpected bonus of a long winter walk. Skiing home: the flicker of lights from headlamps in the distance, and the philosophic stillness of the woods all around us.

(And then driving home and being jarred back into a reality more serious than usual: the fallout of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan.)

I consulted the five-favourite-things list and discovered that 8 (8!) people listed cross-country skiing or downhill skiing as one of their five favourite things. That might be the highest degree of overlap I've found thus far. Two of Brenda's favourite things (minus "cold" and "January") were combined for us last night: "cross-country skiing on a bright cold day in January" and "the night sky in the country."

the national gallery & the national gallery

My favourite thing today: going to the National Gallery with Joel and the kids. Carol had recommended the Wanda Koop exhibit, some of my students had recommended the nineteenth-century British photography exhibit, the kids love doing Artissimo, the weather was wretched, and so it seemed the perfect thing to do on a Saturday afternoon. We went to the Wanda Koop first. I liked it, especially the studio room and the human hybrid exhibit, but I didn't love it. As we exited from the series of adjoining rooms which housed the exhibit, I did see something that took my breath away: Louise Bourgeois's "Cell (the Last Climb)." There is a spiral staircase in the centre of a rod iron cage, blue glass balls are suspended in the cage and look fragile and magical against the dark grittiness of the iron. Tiny threads, almost invisible, also connect to a tear drop shape in the center. And there are two wooden balls on the floor that the descriptive card "explains" represent the artist's parents. When we told the kids this they were dumbfounded. But I found the display evocative in a stop-me-in-my-tracks sort of way. (Needless to say, the picture here does not do it justice.) The nineteenth century photography was great in an entirely different way and definitely worth seeing.

I just consulted the list, thinking I would add other art gallery recommendations, but I had forgotten that there are, in fact, two mentions of the National Gallery itself as a favourite thing. And so, for a change, my favourite thing coincides with the five-favourite-things list. Here's Judith's description: "The National Gallery. My favourite building in Ottawa, in part for the art, but mostly for the beautiful soaring design, the pinkish granite walls and all the magical little places to sit from the garden to the fountain area to the restored chapel. It also has a quiet, attractive cafeteria with decent food and great views onto Nepean Point and the Parliament buildings." Remarkably, Laura, who also lists the National Gallery, singles out the same Louise Bourgeois exhibit that I mention above.

commas & kid's books

My favourite thing the other day: As we were walking home from school Ben said excitedly, "Madame Goldberger read us an awesome book in English today." I asked him what it was, expecting it to be about superheroes or lions or something like that and he said, with great enthusiasm, "it was all about the powerful comma." I thought I was hearing things. The comma? I asked him to tell me about it, still thinking that the comma itself might be code for superhero. But Ben said it was about how commas change so much and have such power in sentences and he himself seemed amazed by this. I loved that Ben could be so excited about a comma (when he's older I'll get him to read the entry on favourite punctuation given his predilection in this area!). The next day I asked his teacher about the book and she said it was the kid's version of Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynn Truss.

This exchange with Ben reminded me that several people listed favourite kid's books as one of their favourite things. Here are two: (from Richard C): "Favourite book (currently) that I am reading to my son Daniel: The Tiger Who Came For Tea"; and (from Jennifer): "Favourite series of early chapter books for children: This category is here because my favourite thing to do is read with the kids--when they feel like paying attention! Arnold Loebel's Frog and Toad series."

cleaning my study & enchiladas

Favourite thing today: okay, it's not cleaning my study but rather the result. A clean study. After weeks (actually, months) of accumulated papers and books piled precariously on and around my desk, and post-its everywhere, and kids' drawings interspersed with my things, it is so great to file the papers, put away the books, throw away the post-its, display the drawings, and see the surfaces in this room again.

A few days ago I made one of Rachel's favourite things. Or rather, what she calls "favourit-ish things." Here it is:

Easy Recipe Michal Loves:

Enchilada Lasagna (takes 10 minutes – literally)

corn tortillas

cheddar/jack cheese, grated

Trader Joe’s Enchilada sauce (or any other brand)

Tofu

Cottage cheese

Corn

Black beans, if you want

Pour enough enchilada sauce in the bottom of a baking dish to cover the bottom. Then put a layer of corn tortillas on top, then layer the cheese, tofu, cottage cheese, corn and beans. Then pour over some sauce. Then repeat. On top layer (I usually do 2 layers), just pour sauce and then put cheese on top. Bake at 350 for 45 or so minutes.

This recipe was great and the kids and Joel both loved it. BUT it had one flaw specific to living in Ottawa. Ingredient #3--Trader Joe's enchilada sauce--isn't sold here. Worse, as far as I can tell, no enchilada sauce is sold here. Still, I was committed to making this recipe and so I went on the internet and found a recipe for enchilada sauce. It worked (and I was impressed with myself because it looked and tasted just like real--ie. bottled--enchilada sauce) but it definitely detracted from the "quick and easy" part that had appealed to me in the first place.

felix holt passage & wanting

Favourite thing yesterday: a passage from Felix Holt that I was teaching in class. Here are the last few lines of her powerfully nostalgic opening chapter: "The poets have told us of a dolorous enchanted forest in the under world. The thorn-bushes there, and the thick-barked stems, have human histories hidden in them; the power of unuttered cries dwells in the passionless-seeming branches, and the red warm blood is darkly feeding the quivering nerves of a sleepless memory that watches through all dreams. These things are a parable." It is such a weird and riveting and grim (given that those "human histories," following Dante on whom the passage is based, relate to suicides) and, ultimately, haunting way to open this novel (which is not, btw, my favourite Victorian novel although this is one of my favourite passages in a Victorian novel).

I thought I'd look to the list to see if anyone had mentioned a Victorian novel as a favourite thing. Alas, no one had. (Would I, I wonder?) But Franny mentioned a novel with a Victorian novelist as a character in it. Here it is: "Favourite recent read: William Flanagan, Wanting." I'll try to read it soon so that I can comment on it rather than just listing it here.

city sunset & country sunset

Favourite thing yesterday: Michal and I went shopping in the Glebe, turned off Bank onto 5th Ave, and right in front of us saw the most stunning sunset. The sky was a luminescent pink, the colour of the polished inside of a seashell, and the snow glowed from the reflected light. I know it is hokey but it took our breath away. There is something about city sunsets: you're in the city and you forget how spectacular natural beauty can be and then there it is piercing through everything--the houses, the telephone wires, the street, the mailboxes--this glowing brilliant pink. It deepened as we walked and was so surprising that in fact people were stopping in the street, pointing, and saying, look at that.

I thought I'd look on the list and see if there were any mentions of sunsets and, sure enough, there was one. Here is one of Maddy's favourite things (in her category of "favourite overlooks/views"): Height of Land in the Rangeley Lakes Region (Maine) at sunset.

While I have seen many sunsets there is one that I remember more vividly than all the others. I was seventeen, travelling with a friend through Europe, and we were in Oban, Scotland, looking across to the isle of Mull. The sun was a brilliant ever-deepening orange but I think what struck me the most were the angular hills lined up like cards, one behind the other, each a different shade of dark. I can remember eating fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and staring in stunned wonder at the brilliance and depth of the light in contrast to those dark gradated hills.

overnight hut in the gatineau & Steve's tahini and gomasio

(Not quite) favourite thing from two days ago: staying overnight at a hut in the Gatineau. It was "not quite," however, because Michal was sick and so I had to stay home with her while Joel went with Ben and our friends. It is one of my favourite things, though, and I want to mention it here so that others will know about this too. It's great to ski or snowshoe into the hut in the dark, to arrive and make a fire, to eat and drink wine, and then to sleep in the stillness of the woods. We do it every year and I was really sorry to miss it this year.

(I just noticed that the friends with whom Joel went to the cabin, Rob and Monique, have listed as one of their five favourite things: "Skiing under the starry skies." Little did I know that when we do this with them every year we are right up there in the "top five" of best things!)

Steve was here this weekend and he introduced us to one of his favourite things (not on his list, however): homemade tahini. This is how you do it:

get a bag of brown sesame seeds

soak them in water overnight

rinse them in the morning

toast them at 250 degrees until they dry (about 30 mins maybe) and then an additional 20 mins until they're golden brown

grind in a food processor (we have a mini one that is easy for this)

remove some for gomasio (just add salt to slightly ground sesame seeds and you have it!)

grind the rest of the seeds completely

add flax seed oil and salt

it's delicious!

We ate the entire jar this weekend and so Steve made us some more before he returned to Toronto this morning.

my macbook air & techie things

This afternoon I spilled an entire cup of tea on my keyboard. I did this once before about 15 years ago and it was a disaster; I have my fingers crossed that this time, after my computer dries, my computer will work. (And I'm now using all the willpower I have not to turn it on before the "drying time" of two days--some websites say two weeks!--is up.) Right now I'm typing on Ben's computer (which is to say: Joel's old computer, and then Michal's old computer, and now Ben's)--it does not feel like mine.

But this accident did make me think of Heidegger's ready-at-hand and present-to-hand. We aren't always aware of things we use every day until they break or go missing at which point they become present to us. You don't usually notice the sidewalk you're walking along, for example, until you come to a pothole and then you're suddenly very aware of the ground beneath your feet. Ditto my computer. It's gone (for two days, possibly forever) and I'm instantly aware that it is one of the most crucial, necessary, go-to material things in my world.

When I bought my macbook air, almost a year ago to the day, I thought it would be a travel computer; I would use it for conferences and research and to and from the university. But I would still work on my "main" (bigger, better) laptop at home. But my new computer quickly displaced my old computer: it went everywhere with me (so light! so convenient! so functional!) and the few times I travelled with it and the battery died, I felt bereft.

All of this has also made me think of the category of favourite things and computers and tech items in general. I would never have included my computer on a list of favourite things despite my obvious bond with it. Why? Partly, because it is replaceable. When the tea spilled I was distressed mainly because of the time factor (lost time, lost work) and not because of the loss of the thing (this calmness stems from my confidence--I hope not ill-founded--that I have a back-up even though Joel is disconcertingly uncertain about how we access it). But still, one of my favourite things, is my computer, even if I wouldn't include it on a list. In fact, no one included any tech things on the list. No smart phones. No computers. No ipods. (Or rather, I'm pretty sure that no one did; I can't know for sure because that info is on my tea-sodden computer--another example of its indispensability.) Is it because they're replaceable? Is it because tech things and favourite things are somehow at odds?

UPDATE: after waiting the requisite 2 days, my computer (miraculously) works again!

fresh flowers & flower gardens and flowers as food

My favourite thing today: fresh flowers in general, freesias in particular. It's 2 March, the snow is still deep, the wind chill was -19, and yet still I could buy flowers.
And here are some of your references to flowers from the list. One of Peter G's favourite things: "watching our vegetable/flower garden grow." Given the snow and the cold, I will have to wait awhile for this. Although I remember the first year I planted tulip bulbs and I was so amazed when their tiny green sprouts began to show. I felt like a genius--as if I'd made them myself. And here's Danny on flowers: "Favorite Salad Condiment: Nasturtiums: Season your next salad with nasturtium flowers from your hanging plants on the porch. They add a mildly peppery taste to your salad, plus texture and color. You can then try other edible flowers, among them carnations and squash blossoms."

finishing things & work (or lack of)

Yesterday's favourite thing was finishing projects--one large and one small--for two deadlines I had. It was very satisfying to feel, okay, now that is done. And something I need to remind myself of: so often I delay finishing, holding out for when things feel finished (which, of course, they never do!). The only reason yesterday's projects were finished, in fact, was because they both had inflexible, externally imposed deadlines.

An interesting detail from the list: very few people noted anything at all that was work-related.

Update: I was going through the list today and noticed an entry from Michal--my own daughter!--that I'd previously overlooked: "Finishing an assignment or report for school and knowing I did really well on it."