Let Them Eat Whole Canned Mushrooms

 I have a tin of whole mushrooms in the my mini pantry. 

Also, I have a bit of a hoarding problem.

I’m not exactly sure what I had in mind when I bought a couple cheap cans of mushrooms a few months ago, because I generally don’t buy cans of anything, but it probably had something to do with the idea of an emergency rainy day mushroom soup or similar. 

My little neighbour Lex loves canned mushrooms.  Although I can’t personally understand their appeal, she’ll happily eat a whole tin of them at one sitting and then dreamily wish there was more. Since I bought these cans she’s eaten all of them except for the one last can I had hidden on the top of my fridge, hoping she wouldn’t think to look there. She never did find it, although she was suspicious I had one somewhere and tried half heartedly to find it.  Eventually I got tired of seeing that speck of yellow wrapper on the top of my fridge and moved it back to its real home in the pantry. Guess who discovered it there on her next hungry tour of my cupboards and fridge. Of course she did. And of course she asked if she could eat it. I. Said. No. Next time she came over she asked again, and, again, I told her I wanted to keep it. Sometimes she’ll just open the cupboard to look at that being yellow can with a hungry glimmer in her eyes and I’ll hard heartedly pretend not to see her. I think she’s stopped asking if she can eat it. 

Today I opened my pantry and saw that can of mushrooms and wondered, Why. Do I even care. Is a dollar twenty five worth of disgusting canned mushrooms going to do me half the good it will do her ? Or will it give me a fraction of the joy it will give her ? Never. Will my proverbial rainy day come before this tin has been bumped and bent and sat in my cupboard forgotten for 3 years ? Probably not. And by that time Lex won’t want it anymore either. Lex isn’t here today, so I shut my pantry, left the mushrooms in there, and kept thinking off and on about the absurdity of hoarding a stupid can of mushrooms. 

But now, as I wrote this, I had a brilliant idea. Lex just turned 9 years old, and I have a little gift for her sitting on my counter. As soon as I’m finished posting this I am going to go to my pantry, pull out that can of mushrooms, and add them to her gift bag. And to be honest, I think that will be her favourite part of her gift. 

More Stories From Our Town

A friend came through town on business a couple weekends ago and we exchanged stories. We hadn’t seen each other for over 6 months. There were lots of stories. One random and slightly unnerving story even happened while he was here. A woman from our town who is involved in using and selling certain things that are not legal, tried to break into our house, not being able to process the fact that the door was locked and would not open. Then,  a couple minutes later, she half attacked this friend in the dark street. If you’ve read former posts or visited our town, you may not be surprised by this drama.

BTT and I sometimes get immune to the drama of our town. Until we get into story telling mode. Or until dramatic things happen when other people are around to witness them with us. Or until their children show up on our doorstep without proper clothing and start talking about what’s happening to them. Or disappear entirely for weeks on end. The children, always the children, the loved-but-forgotten, neglected, self-sufficient, children. It’s always about the children with us. But I vowed (to myself) I wouldn’t focus on them today.

People die and come back to life in our town. Maybe this doesn’t happen often, but it has happened at least twice in the last year or half year. I don’t know a lot about drug use, but this town had taught me most of what I do know. Sometimes someone accidentally overdoses, and when they do, someone else is there to administer the antidote and count the minutes until they start breathing again, and, depending on their fear level, call 911. Those adverts I’ve been seeing that read, “don’t use opioids alone!” are there for a reason.  

BTT was called by the RCMP to the aftermath of one of these happenings a couple weeks ago, minutes after the ambulance had left the scene. He listened to a woman who had watched her friend die, then come back to life. Although she is a user herself, this happening really shook her up and she cried as she told the story. She takes this risk frequently to quell her demons and satisfy her addiction. But it scares her  .

I haven’t been able to see drug use from this angle before.  In my mind Ive know exactly what kind of person this woman is: the kind whose addictions are more important to her than her children, who are no longer in her custody. Hearing this from her, made me realize it may not be that simple. For her, these addictions aren't only a hallucinative break from reality. They scare her with their tight hold and uncertain power.  They are a power, an evil one, stronger than she is. She may have once chosen them, but now they choose her and she is powerless to resist. 

I am almost ashamed to say that I can’t fathom my life so desperate that risking killing myself daily was my best attempt at happiness.  Ashamed, because who am I to be happy.  So many people the world over are so desperately unhappy. So many people are squandering their Easter weekends in the euphoria of opioids or the soothing company of alcohol. As a result, so many marriages are ending violently as mine thrives; so many children are being neglected or abused in the houses of my town and every other town across the globe, so many families and communities are being ripped apart by the sinister power of drugs and alcohol. 

One friend who works on the local ambulance told us that drug overdoses, alcohol abuse and domestic violence has skyrocketed in surrounding  communities in the past couple months, presumably due to continuous social and physical isolations. I don’t have much to add on this other than to implore you: if you’re feeling isolated and depressed please find a trusted person to help you, or begin new healthy habits and hobbies instead of cultivating  brand new drug and alcohol addictions. And if you do find yourself locked in a routine of drug and alcohol abuse, don’t use opioids alone. And, please, find someone you love to take care of your kids before the government has to do that for you. 

Parachuting into Another Community

Sacrifices

I got a life (a job) so I quit blogging. Full disclaimer: I’ve had a part time job in a town nearby for a few months, but it hasn’t interfered with my blogging. Only recently, however, I got asked to work full time with another family for a few weeks in another town almost 100 kilometres away from my home, and that’s cramped my (blogging) style and perhaps affected other areas of my life as well. My floors are dirty. I’ve cooked only halfheartedly and we’ve been eating a lot of repetitious leftovers (and even serving them to company. I know my mother and mil are probably horrified.) And our yard really needs a spring cleanup.  On the other hand, some things haven’t changed: My neighbour girls still spend hours here, for one thing, and, as I told one friend, I don’t think I’ve cooked for just BTT and I for month: it seems like there’s always someone here: brothers, more brothers, sisters!, parents!, the neighbour girlies a few evenings a week, a nephew....... 

Payback 

So I’ve established that there have been sacrifices or compromises with my lifestyle. But the payback has been worth the sacrifice, and I don’t mean in actual money. I have become a small part of helping to keep children with the family they already know instead of going into different foster homes or group homes. I’ve witnessed firsthand the devastating effects that being shuffled from foster home to foster home or group home to group home has on children. Although I had no idea what my job as a support worker would entail or where it would take me when I first started it, it’s giving me a chance to do something that, while not glamorous, is allowing me to be part of a process I care deeply about: keeping children with the families, biological, adoptive, or foster, who have loved, cared for and bonded with these children. And there’s another reward. In my most recent assignment I have been able to get to know some brother-in-law  A’s bio family, which is such an honour and a delight. I’ve seen the sparkle in his eyes in the eyes of his little brother and witnessed some of his personality traits coming out in siblings, aunties, and cousins.  It’s just so cool. 

Skydiving, Differences and Similarities 

I parachuted, figuratively, of course, into a community with completely different values and lifestyle than my community. Or so I thought. Others thoughts so too. One woman even said those exact words, point blank, to my face. I had a hard time taking that as a compliment at first because in my heart I just want to be seen as the same as every other Canadian. The whole job, distance to work, crowd of new faces, suddenly being part of a different family and community and trying to learn their lifestyle and routines etc. was a little intimating and intense at first, thus the skydiving metaphor.

I think I’ve gotten over that, and my time spent in this city community has reinforced something I should’ve, or maybe did, already know: most people aren’t so different than me. Their lifestyle choices might be different from mine. Their clothes definitely won’t look like my clothes. Except for our lawyer the other day, who was wearing a black headscarf. Matching ! Their family might have vastly different careers than my family (ballet vs yard care.) There’s lots of differences when you’re looking for differences.

Despite the differences, many people hold similar core values to mine.  Parents and guardians are mostly just trying to raise happy, healthy children. Many have different methods of teaching and loving their children than I idealize, but those methods can also yield happiness and security, and even though their ways of showing it aren’t my ways, parents from every walk of life love their children deeply. School teachers in public schools also love their students as much as I, as a teacher in an independent school, loved mine, and they are going the second mile and sometimes even the third, fourth, and fifth mile to make sure their students succeed. Some of them feel the same guilt I often felt as a teacher when they fail a student in need or miss a day of teaching and witness the fallout in their students as a result of their absence. There are others communities besides mine where grandparents, friends, and community members rally around each other in support in times of need.  There are homes in other communities whose doors are open to anyone who needs a place to go. These families make me aware of how selfish I am even when I’m feeling generous. (The school teacher in me thinks I should take out that last sentence because it’s veering slightly off-topic. I just came up with a solution: I’ll create another paragraph.)

And then there’s the things I can learn from this community. These families make me aware of how selfish I am even when I’m feeling generous. No one has made me feel unwelcome because I am just another government employee or because I wear a dress and a head covering. People treated me with respect and have been very friendly, which is not something I can say with certainty I would do if the tables were turned. This community seems to celebrate a laidback sense of time, where the priorities are politeness, taking time to talk to people and dealing with things as they happen, all of which aren’t natural for me due to my stoic German Mennonite ancestry.

And then there’s the children. There’s always the children. I didn’t even begin on them. That might be a story for another day. Or maybe I’ll post a recipe for steak with green enchilada sauce like my mom suggested. 

Update on Experimental Survery

 

I put up that poll and deserted. I know some of you have been wondering about results, so I apologize for going temporarily awol. It’s spring and I’m distracted, not only by the balmy winds blowing through my hair, but by all the other dramas: personal dramas (including my phone doing what all my phones do -quit working), work dramas (from minor and adorable temper tantrums to early morning calls to come in for a last minute shift), family dramas (I won’t even get into that. For more info talk to my mil; she keeps a diary.), world drama. 

All the drama. It’s distracting and fascinating. But you my friends and family are still important. And although I originally started this blog only myself, I continue it for you, my small and  faithful and extremely united group of supporters. 

You all voted the same, except one person who left the poll without voting. I don’t really understand how that whole Google Forms thing works or why it would register that one person left the survey without voting. I was also hoping for a little more drama out of you guys (Doesn’t anyone want me to shut up? At the same time,  if you are annoyed at me please quit reading this blog. Your choice.). All voters were comforting and encouraging, with 100% of voters choosing the more of either option in reference to what kind of content you would enjoy reading more of. And for this I thank you. Therefore that is the mode in which I will continue, posting life stories, random thoughts, or recipes, basically whatever. I often find it easier to post recipes because it doesn’t take any emotional involvement from me. So today, a recipe. Just kidding. The recipe I was going to post is on my not-working phone. So today, nothing. 

I know I shouldn’t write late at night because most things I say quite makes sense when I read it over in the light of day. I might end up ranting about how to write the plural form of the word Wednesday if I don’t quit soon and that could be offensive and traumatizing for people who are even less worried about grammar than I.

So I will quit, and I will be back with something more interesting (possibly, maybe) next time.

Basically Just Mushy, but Also True

Some people impact my life the moment I lay eyes on them. Words don’t even have to be spoken. For me, these people are mostly children.

On thé other hand, sometimes it takes longer to build a rapport. Sometimes I see a child, even talk to them, a dozen or a hundred times before really connecting with them

And that, as a sage woman recently told me, is the beauty and the irony of being human: every person and every relationship is different. 

And here are some more beauties and ironies. 

It’s strange, really, how I can meet a person and understand immediately that they have already changed my life. 

It’s strange how my heart can literally jump at the sight of a pair of eyes in a sparkling in tiny upturned face and then turn an actual somersault inside me at the sound of a joyful giggle. 

It’s strange how the action of hugging is universal and transcends the need for words. 

It strange how a world view or strong opinion can melt and morph in the instant it takes a small hand to touch a larger one. 

It’s strange how garbled first words and mispronunciations become a new entire language. 

It’s strange how no words at all can be more powerful than many words. 

It’s strange how the pain of a child can create fissures of pain in me, how a scared sobbing girl running down the street toward me scars my heart even more. 

It’s strange that after loving sad children for so many years, their pain and fear is still contagious to me. Sometime wish I was immune to it. 

It’s strange how life works. How my/our life keeps filling fuller and fuller with children who need more love or care or safety than their caregivers can give. It’s stranger still that these same children rescue me from myself and my selfishness , love us in return, and shake up the settled routine life BTT and I live with their extravagant child happinesses and dramas and ideas  

I would love to give you a name for the child who was the inspiration for each it’s strange musing . But they are precious and tiny and innocent and they deserve privacy and respect. So I can’t   .  

Just an Experimental Survey Today, People

 

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The Minniest Cheesecakes with White Chocolates and Raspberries

My mom sent me this recipe created by Amy at Chew Out Loud by a year or so ago, raving about it’s deliciousness. It really is delicious. And that’s why I’ve adapted it to suit me. Here’s my version, the one BTT and I made today in celebration of Valentines Day.

The Minniest Cheesecakes with White Chocolates and Raspberries 

 ingrédients  :

For the Crust:

• 1 1/2 cups mixture of finely chopped walnuts (can be substituted with pecans) and finely crushed maria biscuits or graham crackers. I use a 1:3 mixture of nuts and biscuits 

For the Chocolate Lover: use crushed chocolate cookies in place of the walnut/graham cracker mixture. Oreo crumbs, for example. Or, because I don’t keep Oreo crumbs on hand, I often make a quick homemade version of chocolate cookies for crumbs.

• 4-6 TBSP butter, melted

• 1 TBSP cane sugar (optional. Add if using the walnuts.)

For the Filling:

• 170 - 225 grams white chocolate

• 1/4 cup whipping cream

•1 1/2 blocks (12oz total) cream cheese, softened to almost melted

•Optional: substitute 2-4 oz of cream cheese with equal amount softened goat cheese 

•1/4 cup cane sugar

•2 eggs

•1 tsp vanilla extract

• 2-3 tsp freshly squeezed lime or lemon juice ( about the freshly squeezed part. I would like to say I did that. But I don’t.) 

• frozen raspberries, crushed and/or wild blueberries  

instructions  :

Make Crust: 

•Mix crushed walnuts and biscuits together with butter and sugar (if using).

Make Filling: 

•In mixing bowl, mix cream cheese, goat cheese (if using) and sugar until smooth. Beat in eggs. Add vanilla and the lime or lemon juice.

•In a saucepan on the stove top or in a bowl in the microwave melt white chocolate chips together with the cream on low heat, stirring often. Cool for a minute or two before mixing it into the cream cheese mixture. 

Assemble Cheesecakes:

•Scoop a teaspoon of the crumb mixture evenly into 48 lined mini muffin tins. Lightly press down to form bottom crusts. 

•Drizzle 1 TBSP filling over each crust. 

•Top with crushed raspberries and/or blueberries. 

•Use a toothpick or knife tip to lightly swirl the fruit into the filling. 

•It’s nice to have a couple people doing this part; a lot of times when I’ve made these there have been kids around. They were too delighted to be able to help create these by pressing the crusts and adding the fruit. 

Bake:

• Put in oven preheated to 330• (yes, I absolutely bake things at unconventional temperatures.) for 20 minutes or until tops are puffy and no longer sticky upon light touch. 

•Let cool to room temperature, then cover and chill in fridge for a couple hours. If you just can’t wait to eat them, 20 or 30 minutes in the freezer (or outside on a -20• C day) is effective for cooling them quickly. 

Eat:

•These can be served with a tiny dollop of whipped cream or coconut cream or without. 

•For one brother’s birthday he and I topped these with whipped cream and crushed m+m’s and Cadbury eggs to make these tiny bites of deliciousness even more festive and fun. 

A Few Final Notes:

•The goat cheese adds a little bit of a tangy sourish note to these cheesecakes, as does the small amount of citrus. 

•For a calmer base flavour, use the lemon juice; slightly more exciting base flavour I recommend the lime. 

•I’ve tried using varying amounts of white chocolate in this recipe, and haven’t found that using more or less affects the texture at all. It does affect the flavour, though. If you use the  smaller amount, you can barely taste the white chocolate in the finished product; if you use the larger amount, the white chocolate shines through as the key flavour.