Although married for less than 2 years, I actually fell in love with the chef well over 20 years ago. Before he was a tax-paying adult. A father. A chef.
In my OAC English class, I noticed a boy who was argumentative but somehow came across as almost shy. Exactly the kind of dichotomy that would get my attention. He did his Hamlet soliloquy and I was hooked. We dated for two weeks at the end of the summer leading into university. He was so intense, he scared me and I let him go off to Ottawa without so much as a "see you soon". My biggest regret in life, by far.
Fast forward 17 years and through the wonder of Facebook, we got a second chance. Why am I digging all of this up?
Due to health problems, I wasn't able to accompany the chef to a gala at the ROM. With a circus theme. How much fun THAT would be? He went with a long-time friend who is a wonderful photographer and her efforts more than matched his in both costume and flair. She took a picture of the chef at the gala which made me fall in love with him just that little bit more. Hard to do when you are as head-over-heels as I am.
No one gets to see this playful, theatrical side of DaLocalChef anymore. But I do, every day.
As a child, growing up in Germany, there was a band out of East Germany named Karat. Emo music by today's standards, my generation found it poignant and lyrically inspiring. Although I love all of their offerings, one song has gotten me through the tough bits. It is the epitome of my attitude towards hardships and the beast I call Prader-Willi Syndrome (http://www.fpwr.ca/about-foundation-prader-willi-research-canada/ ), which is the bane of my son T's existence.
and I will translate as best I can. Hopefully it's meaning will not be lost on you.
The Storm's Companions
Every day anew, the storm is born, he flies around the world and knows no path. Daily he seeks new company, he knocks on my heart, looking for a door.
My hunger for freedom was lonely and untamed, I loved that which coincidence brought. I searched for my stars all by myself, cursed the dreams which I shared with no one.
Even when the storm breaks apart your roof and he bends you down to the ground, Get back up and offer him no quarter because he will carry you far if you fly with him.
Every day anew, lights and shadows exchange, I follow my path like driftwood in a river. And many a night I dream of the floods, I go with the storm as he waits for me.
I have already met him a hundred time and every new day I look into his face.
Even when the storm breaks apart your roof and he bends you down to the ground Get back up and offer him no quarter because he will carry you far if you fly with him.
Even when the storm breaks apart your roof Even if he once almost defeats you. Get back up, offer him no quarter because he will carry you far if you fly with him.
~Karat, loosely translated by K. Wilson
So there it is, my crutch, my inspiration. Simple, really, just a song. But it's meaning is not lost on me, and even though I once drifted aimlessly, I now face each challenge with force and commitment. If you learn to roll with the punches, you go further.
So, if you are down and it seems like everyone and everything is against you...if it seems to hard to persevere...
take this advice: If you meet your challenge head-on and even when you face defeat, give it all of the oomph you can muster? It's done, you succeed. If it is just for that day, it doesn't matter because each new day, with each new challenge, offers you the chance to fly with the storm rather than lie down and give up.
For as long as I can remember, I have been one of those annoying night people. No, I'm not talking about some freaky vampire crap. I'll leave that for the cheesy movies with their disco-ball night creatures. I'm that annoying person who is just getting fired up as everyone else is ready to fall asleep.
As a chef, this nocturnal nature has been a great help. (As long as I wasn't working the early morning breakfast shift!!) Finishing a busy night, riding the adrenalin buzz could often take me to 2 or 3 in the morning without any trouble. It made for a great many memorable nights, most of which would not be appropriate to discuss here.
Last night, I headed out to walk the dog around 11:30. I put on the I-pod and headed out, leash in hand. It was an amazingly still night, and there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. I settled the headphones on my ears, pressed shuffle and headed off. At times like this, I just let my mind wander. I feel that I get some of my most creative ideas that way. Within 20 minutes, I had 3 dishes bubbling through my brain, that if no-one had been at home I probably would have stayed up until morning cooking. They will come to life over the next few days, to be sure. But then, a song came on that stopped me dead in my tracks.
"You're The Boss" Brian Setzer and Gwen Stefani. Such a cool track. And before I knew it, I was singing along with the song and dancing. Yes, for those of you who know me and are now staring dumbly, I said dancing. It was amazing. The moonlight shining down. The gentle glow of the street lamps. The dog staring at me like I'd lost my mind. I was in the middle of hundreds of houses, most quiet and dark. And unlike all those people, I was alive and just buzzing. It was incredible. As though I was the only person on Earth. The song ended. I straightened my coat and set off on my way, both dog and I perfectly happy to pretend the impromptu dance session had never happened. But it wasn't over.
Marc Cohn, "Walking in Memphis" This song has always had the ability to grab a hold of me, but last night was something different. Within a few bars, I was singing at the top of my lungs. And I don't sing, at least not when people can hear me. It's not that I'm embarrassed by my voice. I just have too much respect for other people's eardrums to subject them to my caterwauling. But it didn't matter. The music just flowed through me. And on that quiet, still winter's night, I sang so freely that I cried. It was incredibly liberating and freeing. Luckily, I had a Milk-Bone or two for Drako. He really didn't know what to make of these strange noises. Hopefully, he's not too traumatized.
When I got home, I sat down and wrote out half a menu worth of recipe ideas. The power of the night had lifted me up and energized me beyond belief. When I finally lay down to sleep, I was just vibrating with that energy. It took a half hour for me to finally fall asleep. And as I dozed off, a lyric came floating through my brain that summed it up so perfectly.
"Working late night, not that we hate light Just feels right, that's when tracks come out tight Thoughts start creeping, people are sleeping Pull words out of the dreams, it's the deep end It's the deep end, people are sleeping Pull words out of the dreams, it's the deep end Keep in mind, it's not that we hate light Just feels right, that's when tracks come out tight" "Deep End" - Swollen Members
I f someone asks me this question, I generally take a deep breath.
I raise kids. In my opinion, that alone earns me a medal since none of them are felons and they all still love their Momma. I keep them clean and healthy, happy (weeeeell, mostly) and amused. I don't feed them. They'll thank me for that one day as the chef is much better qualified to do this (and my time is best spent NOT smashing kitchen appliances in frustration).
I raise pets. Since I am responsible for their numbers I find it only fair I do most of the work. Flea, a 14 year old beige tabby cat is the regent supreme. He has been with me since the first day of his life and I raised him by bottle. This resulted in a cat who thinks he is human. Most people agree with him. If they don't, he persuades them.
Drako is a GSD from a breeder in North Bay http://shepherdpups4sale.gotpetsonline.com/ , beautiful to behold, comical to watch once you know him. He has come a long way in a short time and is an integral part of this wacky family.
PJ and Chocolate, the two guinea pigs. I love guinea pigs, I think it's their lips. I also enjoy rustling bags and opening the fridge...the resulting cacophony of fweeps never fails to amuse me.
I keep the house and yard. Some say I'm a wee bit obsessed with order and cleanliness. They have been silenced and no one will find them. I'm a great gardener, ever wonder why the plants grow so well and I keep adding beds?
I am a warrior. Can't help it, must be the fact that my Grandma's maiden name was Krieger. (German for ...you guessed it) I declare war on incompetence, stupidity and ignorance. Chef has a small fortune saved in case he needs bail for my release. Most importantly, I am a warrior in my son's stead. I fight Prader-Willi Syndrome every day of his life. T was diagnosed 20 months after his birth and his struggles are only outweighed by his successes. He is brave, persistent and my lil hero. Go T! Down with PWS!! If you don't know it, look it up. http://www.fpwr.ca/about-foundation-prader-willi-research-canada/ You'll come across it again. Kick it for me, will ya?
I crochet. LOTS. I have a bigger stash (of yarn) than anyone I know (outside of the yarn stores). I sometimes get paid to create specific projects, and that's my favourite part. It seems to make itself and gives me great satisfaction.
Often my own designs haunt me until I have to make them. I love the design part, frequently falter on the completion of said design. *sigh* In the next few days I will post some pictures of what I do with (or to?) yarn. People seem pleased when they buy stuff, or I give them stuff...or they can talk me out of stuff because I have been drinking red wine. The red wine part is a rare occurrence, I swear! No one around to contradict, cuz that's how I roll. And I have a wonderful garden.
Lastly, I help out with the care of my Oma (grandmother), who will turn 93 on Valentine's Day. My Oma is the epitome of who I want to be. She raised a bunch of us, had her hand in the development of several generations. Can always count on her. For wacky advice. Sayings. Predictions. Home remedies. Support. A wooden spoon on the heinie. Every day she slips away a little more. Mentally - that's the hardest. Physically - that I can help with. It's why our family moved only 10 mins away from my parents' house. I want to be her rock, like she was mine, for however long she needs me. I also like helping my parents. With the house. With the property and gardens. With their sanity. Sometimes, due to this, my sanity suffers.
I have a head full of cotton and my best friend, the kleenex box, mocks me with it's emptiness. I am also unsure if we are adding to our merry band of insanity by one dog. As I'm waiting to hear if we will invite Anna (who would then be the other blonde female...a female...in MY house of men!!!), a white GSD cross, into our little wee house....and I'm honking into tissues and coughing in a most non-fem way...I thought to start writing a blog. ME, the great resistor of technology (who married a social media whore, but that's another story) will blog. About my insane life. About my pets and most especially Fleazel the fat DSH cat, who has his own modest following. I will likely innundate you with yarn. Because I love the yarn. I occasionally stick a hook in it and make something but really...it's all about the yarn. I suppose I could let you have some of the stuff I make, we'll see.
Oh, it just occurred to me I should mention my cohort. Steve, also known as lemons, the chef, dalocalchef or in my house: oi! Yeah, you!, will be writing in blue, on his days, when I don't hog the blog (like that?) about cooking-like things, I would imagine. Because that's what he does, cooking and ...uhm...cooking. Ohohoh, he also walks the dog, Drako. A beautiful GSD who looks regal, but is a monumental goof. I'll tell you about him sometime. We are scoring a girlfriend for him...see the start of the blog.
I have no idea what I'm doing but they (the sage group of THEY) said I should write one. To show off my crochet. To talk about Fleazel. To go on and on...cuz that's what I do. Like right now. See? *coughsnot* Yep, it's a stellar time to invite you into my life. And oi! Yeah you! (whom we will affectionately call chef from now on) made us do the Twitter. WE'll see how that goes cuz we (the Twitter and I) DID NOT get along the last time I tried. Digression. That's me.
Kk. We'll see how this puppy works out. Also, if you have questions, I'll answer them. I may not know what the hell I'm talking about, but I'll answer. Do you like guinea pigs? WE have those too. I love opening the fridge just to hear them fweep. It is quickly becoming a hobby. For now, I'll go back to waiting for a YES YOU CAN TAKE MY DOG INTO YOUR LIFE AND MAKE HER SLIGHTLY WEIRD BUT THAT'S OK BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE WEIRD BUT EVER SO WONDERFUL. And laundry...I should do that too. *sigh* not a fan of the laundry.
DISCLAIMER: I am not responsible for what the chef writes. I may be married to him but eh, this is an open forum. He of course is TOTALLY responsible for any crap I cause. It's the way it works in our life and we'll continue it into this little beauty, shall we? Right then, toodles, maybe I'll have something to say next time.
6 months ago, if someone had told me that Kris and I would start writing a blog together, I would have called them crazy. And I would have been wrong. I am the official "social media whore" in the family. I'm always on Twitter, or Facebook, or blogging. But, that said, I'm not half the writer that Kris is. If you don't know that already, you will soon.
Between 2 full-time kids, 2 kids that are here less than we'd like, 1 dog(soon to be 2 we hope), 2 guinea pigs and a magnificent cat, we've got a pretty busy house. Add to this Kris' crocheting and crafting, my cooking (both at home and at work), plenty of assorted characters wandering in and out(our family and friends are wonderful and are most definitely characters!) and everything else swirling around us and you have quite the life. Things are rarely boring or quiet, and are always interesting. Somehow, amid it all, we find time to write. Maybe it will help keep us sane. (Maybe it's too late already!)
