13 is Just A Number

As I said in my Wedding Renewal blog, Friday the 13th in Vegas did not start out sunny. I wore something casual to wear at the restaurant for breakfast. Big Lug grumbled a little bit about me not ordering toast and suggested tomorrow morning I just share it with him. When you read a menu online, you can never be certain if the reality lives up to the expectations. http://www.theplatinumhotel.com/dining-and-lounge/documents/Kilawat_Brunch_Menu.pdf Eggs your way might read humble but what arrived definitely wasn't. The Kilawat Restaurant at the Platinum Hotel is the sort of place where you can feel comfortable wearing jeans and a t-shirt but the presentation of the meal makes you think of a place that caters to the pants and shirt crowd.




Since we were going out that evening, we returned to the Kilawat for a light lunch after going to A Special Memory Chapel. I hesitated briefly when I found out the soup du jour was tomato basil. Since that evening we were going to The Top Of The World at the Stratosphere which was definitely a "business casual" restaurant, we had decided to wear our wedding outfits. After strategically positioning the cloth napkin, I thoroughly indulged in the soup. The chunks of tomato and the burst of fresh basil made it worth taking a chance.

Under the category of what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, I won't talk too much about how the afternoon went. Suffice it to say, though, Big Lug and I did have a long nap. With the evening plans involving a fancy dinner and a Jay Leno show, we knew we had to be well rested. The last thing you want to do is fall asleep at a comedy show. Both of us did change our mind about what we were going to wear to the Stratosphere, although for Big Lug it was a case of simply going tieless. As for me, I went with black pants, an almost sheer deep blue shirt. The cab ride to the Stratosphere has been immortalized on video and posted at YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mntcC_fASEU

I vowed while in America, I would boycott American beef. As I read Top of the World's menu, I changed my mind. http://www.topoftheworldlv.com/strat_din_tow_di_en.asp . The food is worth dressing up for and spending the day eating light. Bring some extra money because thanks to the digital camera, there is a whole new business in Las Vegas. I call it the "Photo Memento Industry". By the time we finished eating, checked out the observation deck at the Stratosphere, further helped the economy by picking up some souvenirs for Kidlet, it was time to go to the Mirage to see Jay Leno.

All I have to say about Jay Leno is although he's no George Carlin, his comedy show is definitely different than the comedy you'll hear on The Tonight Show. When you are going to a comedy show, remember anyone in the first three rows is fair game for the comedian. If you don't want to be part of his routine, sit further back. As it was, though, we were "the couple sitting in front of Terry Fator". Jay Leno gives a great comedy show. I'm not going to bother sharing his jokes because I can't do them justice. I truly felt like a Las Vegas Lady as we took a cab back to The Platinum at 1 a.m. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1heFr0SsrU

Marriage Renewed

On Saturday, June 17, 1995 I woke alone to a grey, overcast day in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. It was my wedding day. It would also put an end to five months of imposed celibacy by my groom to be. He had spent the night at the hotel we'd be taking our parents to for a post wedding brunch. When you go from having months to plan a wedding during the off season to five weeks that puts you right in peak season, you cut many corners due to lack of money or time. There was no limo due to it being a small wedding. There were no flowers because my maid of honour and I both had seasonal hay fever. Given that this was my fiancé’s second attempt at marriage; he had done his best to persuade me that a professional photographer was over-rated.

On Friday, February 13, 2009 my husband and I woke to a grey, overcast day in Las Vegas, Nevada, America. It was our vow renewal day. I had picked a package through "A Special Memory". For $199 you got a limousine to and from your hotel, flowers, professional pictures and a church. When it dawned on me that we would be at Vegas over a day that stereotypically was unlucky, I thought it would be fun to celebrate thirteen years of marriage on Friday the 13th.

As a woman, I know how to dress well. To paraphrase Gretchen Wilson, though, I could buy the same darn thing second hand. My dress was under $10, the shoes were on sale at Zellers, the head piece was from the original wedding, as well as the heart-shaped brooch. I covered the something blue with a pair of lovely earrings my best friend had given me. As with the original ceremony, though, it was Big Lug's outfit that cost more than mine. If Moore's Mens Wear ever had doubts about whether or not their advertisements during hockey games were effective, Big Lug definitely removed those doubts.

The only unlucky thing to happen was when I looked down at my dress, I realized my bottom button was undone and as I went to do the final button, it came off in my hand. Luckily the hotel had a sewing kit at the front desk. Even better it came pre-threaded. It didn't take long to get fixed up and I was able to enjoy my first romantic limo ride. The only other limo ride I had experienced was related to a funeral.

A Special Memory Chapel was amusing. There were flowers, garters, tiaras, even wedding bands available for purchase. It also had lovely plush couches to sit on and a charming chapel. We received excellent personalized attention and our nervousness soon disappeared to be replaced with excitement. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Here are five thousand more words, all taken by amateurs. The professional pictures cannot be posted.

Proverbs 13:21 Evil pursues sinners: but to the righetous good shall be repayed.

Glory Days

I would like to go on record saying I forgive the CRTC for finally getting in sync with the back East American channels and blocking the American commercials during the Super Bowl because the Budweiser Clydesdale commercials were still shown. I chuckled every time I saw the digitalized CTV ads because the shows they were plugging were all CBS, not NBC. As for Big Lug, he went from saying "I'm EFFING boycotting CTV!" to "I can handle this." It didn't help that Telus Mobility paid for a Super Bowl themed Meerkat ad. Nothing like hearing your wife and son awwwing over some digital animated critters to make you realize you're not going to get any sympathy about the lack of American ads during the Super Bowl game.

Big Lug also was on weak ground for making catty comments about The Boss during the halftime show of the Super Bowl. His sarcastic comments about Bruce Springsteen's age fell on deaf ears as my mind went back to 1993.

I was in my early 20's and had managed to get a ticket to the Bruce Springsteen concert. This was back in the day when you had to line up for hours in hopes of getting a concert ticket. I decided to be bold and wear a mini-dress even though I was going to the concert alone. It came in handy during the concert because my seat was only okay. If the supervisor wasn't nearby, the security guards would let me stand on my seat. I guess when all you're wearing is a mini-dress and high heels combined with hips that never quit; it's real easy for a guy to claim he didn't "notice that long haired brunette standing on her chair". Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band thrilled the audience by doing a walk about. I was close enough; I reached out to touch Bruce Springsteen, much as women of a prior generation would reach out to touch Elvis. My boyfriend at the time was one of the security guards. After the concert, some of his co-workers were giving him a hard time for not going to the After Show. He looked at them, said "remember that brunette in the purple mini-dress who wouldn't stay seated?" "Hell yeah, was I ever glad to be in that section!" "She's waiting for me on my waterbed." "Enjoy!"

I remember wondering if when I was old and grey, would I look back at that concert as one of my Glory Day moments? I'm 41 years old, that boyfriend has had ex in front of him for almost 15 years, a Sara Evans/Brooks & Dunn concert I went to with Big Lug replaced the Bruce Springsteen concert for being "Best Ever" and I definitely have plenty of white hairs. As I saw Mrs. Boss up on stage, still playing and singing in her husband's band, I smiled. The Glory Days are what you make of each day.

Proverbs 2:21 For the upright shall dwell in the land, and the perfect shall remain in it.

Peace

I've been reflecting on peace and serenity this month. Somehow turning 40 caused a cosmic shift in my thinking. It didn't help that within a few weeks of turning 40, a certain change decided to arrive in my life. Thankfully I've gotten to the point I can make a humorous comment when someone says "Aren't you too young to be experiencing hot flashes?"

Now that I'm 41, I've been reflecting on another change of life. Back in 1963 a book was published by a bored, university educated, suburban housewife. Thanks to her university education, she did have the smarts to know how to spin statistics, research data and anecdotal information to support a specific viewpoint. Unfortunately that book also robbed many women of pleasure in tasks that seemed natural and second nature to them.

January 1st, 2008 I woke up feeling unhappy, despite having a $1100 diamond necklace around my neck as a 40th birthday present. That unhappiness progressed through most of the rest of the year. That's why there is a huge gap in my blogging. I'm not going into great detail. Suffice it to say remember when the doctor hands you a prescription; unless you get to the root cause of the problem, popping pills aren't going to do you much good.

This leads me to January 1st, 2009. I woke up feeling excited about the upcoming year. I made up my mind that this was going to be a year of action and accomplishment. I remember how Mother Teresa became a household name by taking pleasure in doing many little things to add up to one big thing.

Right now a woman is feeling peace and serenity because her report has been accepted by the board. She looks forward to picking her children up from daycare, dropping them off at home for some daddy time while she goes on a power walk. When she returns, she'll spend some time playing with her son and daughter while dinner is made by her husband. Right now I'm feeling peace and serenity because my dish rack is full of clean dishes. I've already done my power walk, after I dropped my son off at school. I'll pick him up and spend some time playing with him. While I make dinner, he'll have some daddy time.

The first woman isn't a theory or an amalgamation. She's a real woman, in both senses of the word and treats me as a real woman. Both of us will be getting together with a group of other women at the church. We're not hung up on who is doing what according to The Feminine Mystique. All we'll be caring about tonight is not dropping a stitch while we do our needlework. That's real peace, knowing after a hard day's work, you’ll be able to relax with a group of women who have a common interest.

Proverbs 21:2 Every way of a person is right in their own eyes: but the LORD ponders the hearts.

Before anyone posts a scathing comment that “Daddy Time” is a new concept brought about by the very book I’ve never been impressed with, talk to someone who is 80-90 years old or read some of the old journals that have been published. The last ten years people have become more willing to talk or publish anecdotes about “Pa coming in from the fields to whittle and tell us stories while Ma made dinner” or “Father was tired from a long day of running the trap lines but not too tired to play Cat’s Cradle with us.” That’s definitely “Quality Time With The Children” or “Keep The Damn Kids Amused To Give Me A Lousy Fifteen Minutes To Myself”, depending on your viewpoint.

Weather Weight

With at least three more months of winter, there is no way prairie redneck women want to look like one of those airbrushed, digitally enhanced models or celebrities on the cover of some magazine that says "How to Lose 25 Pounds AND Keep It Off!" Better to spend our money on Canada Junior Hockey team apparel than on an article written by someone who doesn't even know what "wind chill" factor means.

It's not that we don't care about our appearance; it's just that we are realists. One extra inch of fat on our hips, thighs and waist isn't a cause for alarm. Its Mother Nature's way of saying go out, enjoy the winter, I'm a prairie redneck woman hear me roar back at the wind that puts the temperature to -35. That's -31 Fahrenheit.

Sure some of us are hopping on the scale and dropping an F-bomb or heaving a big sigh over the December indulgences. We're struggling a bit to do up the waistband but the December inch tends to disappear by the end of January, since there are no longer the cookie exchanges, the Christmas lunches, the potluck suppers, Christmas Dinner, Boxing Day Luncheon, the New Year's Eve party where the call of the Wild Pretzel couldn't be ignored and of course the snacking during the World Junior Games. The winter inch, though, isn't something to be ashamed of. It's a fact of life.

Another fact of life is since even the better quality magazines are usually from America, it's easier to think in terms of pounds and inches. The work or school schedule is back to normal. It's time to resume your exercise program. Now that it's January, it's okay to say to Herb in sales "I'll take a pass on the Tim Horton's donuts, thanks for thinking of me." Also, yes their Candy Cane coffee or hot chocolate is a great Christmas treat but Christmas is done, have one last cup when the tree is down and resume your normal drinking habit. It's also time to quit buying or making eggnog and resume your regular dairy habits. When Mabel down the block arrives on your doorstep with fresh cinnamon buns, it's okay to limit yourself to one, and put the rest where they aren't accessible. To be fair to the magazine industry, if the woman on front doesn't look digitally enhanced and the article is offering to help you lose 10 pounds, the odds are in your favour it's a realistic weight loss plan and worth spending money on or borrowing from the library.

Here are some tips. Grapefruit tastes great sprinkled with nutmeg. Toast can be topped with cinnamon and a few teaspoons of butter, without brown sugar. It is possible to have chilli or soup without bread on the side. Plain low fat yogurt mixed with fruit helps you gear down from the ice cream habit you developed over Christmas holiday. If you don't like cold carrot sticks, let them sit in hot water for a minute or two and drink the water so you don't waste the vitamins. Plus the water will help fill you up. This recipe is for when a monster I call Salt Kong comes roaring in and the salty junk food seems appealing.

Dilled Cucumber Slices

at least 2 cups/450 ml of thick cut cucumber slices
1 cup/250 ml apple cider vinegar
1 garlic clove, minced
2 teaspoons/10 ml fresh dill
dash tumeric
large glass jar with lid and seal (I use a standard Mason jar)

Put cucumber slices in jar, top with remaining ingredients, seal tightly, shake to ensure the liquid gets in between the cucumber slices and let get acquainted in the fridge for 3-6 hours.

Every time you eat those instead of a chips, pretzels or fries, put the money saved in some sort of container. That's it for this week on how to ditch that December Inch without losing your Winter Inch. Next Monday will be about Eating Lifestyles.

Proverbs 4:7 Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all your getting, get understanding.

Turning Back the Hands of Time

If I could turn back the hands of time, I’d go back to a house in Estevan, Saskatchewan. The snow was real deep and my dad would help my brother and I make some real great snow forts. Christmas was very special, because we’d get lots of great toys. I also vaguely remember my mom getting excited about the Oil Wives’ Christmas Party.

I might not go that far back. I might only go as far back as Medicine Hat. Those were real cool Christmases because of the Christmas Pageant. You know how you read the accounts of Christmas in a small town and roll your eyes at how cheesy it seems? Having lived it as a child, I never roll my eyes. I smile as I remember the assemblies that were also rehearsals for the songs. Of course I never got picked to be one of the singers but I still remember the gym full of kids belting out both the religious and secular songs.

I could back to Edmonton when I was a young girl, and the Christmases that made it no problem understanding Dolly Parton’s “Hard Candy Christmas”. I was grateful for the homemade Christmas gifts, with much love and thought poured into them. I remember the family going downtown to look at the Christmas displays in the shop windows. Not all the Christmases in Edmonton in the 70’s and early 80’s were lean. I remember getting a Barbie Doll, a toy oven, and as I got older, clothes, games, even records.

I could go back to the high school years which were spent mainly in Lloydminster, on the Alberta side. The best year was when Santa Claus gave my brother and I a Canadian Monopoly game and wrote “NO FIGHTING” on the label. Santa had a tender heart, because earlier that year my mom had taken away the Monopoly game from my brother and me because we fought too much over it. Santa’s handwriting looked like my dad’s handwriting but since they were both male, it made perfect sense. There was also a year when Santa gave me Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” and my brother Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue”. Santa and my dad had the same music tastes.

I don’t remember the Christmas my college year in Edmonton just that my family had moved back to Edmonton. I do remember the following year because it was the first Christmas I spent at my parent’s place as a guest. I had moved out of their house earlier that year. They had not yet become born again Christians and let my fiancé also stay the night. I remember vaguely coming awake in the basement muttering “Who’s there?” only to hear my mom say “It’s the Easter Bunny. Go back to sleep.” I have to admit that was the only Christmas he spent with my family. Within a few years I didn’t have a fiancé to bring. It was just as well because by that time my parents had moved to Calgary, become born again Christians and wouldn’t have let us sleep together.

I vaguely remember a Christmas fifteen years ago in Edmonton involving my boyfriend, his ex-wife, their son, her current boyfriend, her ex-boyfriend and myself. I remember wondering if I really wanted another anti-Norman Rockwell Christmas. True, the gifts and fellowship were great, as well as a lot of green stuff that had nothing to do with pine but I wondered if this was the life I wanted to live. I found myself reflecting on a guy I had just met a few days earlier and wondering what sort of Christmas I’d have with him. I shut down that thought, because I knew he was way out of my league.

Little did I know as he was driving his friend back home to spend Christmas with his mom who lived in Calgary, he had a conversation with God that went along the lines of “God, remember how I prayed on the way to Edmonton that once the divorce is finalized, I don’t want a new relationship? I’ve changed my mind.” Now you know how an Edmonton gal wound up living in Calgary.

Prairie Redneck Christmas Cake

Occasionally on the Internet a piece circulates about someone's attempt to make alcohol laden fruitcake. As the recipe progresses, you can tell the person is getting drunk as they make the cake. Prairie redneck women are made of much sterner stuff. This is one recipe where Canadian content is forgotten, and American whiskey is used. It's usually called cake because as soon as you call it fruitcake, no redneck man will touch it even with all the whiskey. Anything in italics is optional.

Jack Daniels Cake

Open up J.D., have a shot to ensure its fresh
1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temp
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 generous cups flour
1/2 cup Jack Daniels lick up any residue in the cup to ensure the J.D. isn't wasted
12 ounces currants, or raisins
Indulge in a shot of J.D. because all the ingredients are successfully set out.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, beat the sugar into the softened butter until fluffy and white. Beat eggs in well. Time for more J.D., this is hard work.

In a separate bowl, combine the baking powder and flour. Beat the bourbon into the eggs and butter, and then add the flour mixture, fruit and nuts, mixing well. Almost done, J.D. shooter time.

Take a loaf pan, smear it with butter. Pour in the batter, and bake for about 45 minutes , or until a knife plunged in the center of the cake comes out dry. Use the time the cake is baking to enjoy another J.D. shooter.

When cake is done, brush top and sides with J.D. plus put some J.D. inside you.
Yield: 1 9x5x3 inch cake.

Whiskey Frosting
1/4 cup butter
2 cups powdered sugar
3 tablespoons whiskey as well as one for yourself.
pinch of salt

Cream butter, add sugar and salt, stirring is work, need some J.D. then whiskey. Whip until smooth. Frost cake. Have a final shot of J.D to celebrate another successful cooking experience.