If it’s my birthday, it’s beef stroganoff.
My favourite meal is beef stroganoff. I’ve loved it since forever. My mom made it regularly since it was a meal that pleased us all, and with five, that was rare. Though I think one brother, like my son, picked out the mushrooms. For both of them, it’s a flavour and not a texture thing. I love mushrooms. Cooked or raw, they’re delicious. We make … Continue reading If it’s my birthday, it’s beef stroganoff.
The happiest day ever was a Saturday in December.
I don’t remember that many happy times. I know they exist. There’s one of me riding a bike I come back to regularly. Much of my past is blurry, however. I have flashes and snatches, but my memory isn’t great when it comes to the day-to-day. I blame the unholy trifecta of trauma, PTSD, and age. Worst band name ever. I drifted into a relationship … Continue reading The happiest day ever was a Saturday in December.
What you don’t smell can be a problem.
I am not going to tell you how I’d spend a billion dollars. Do you know why? It’s a ridiculous amount of money. It’s a thousand million dollars, and no one should have even one billion, let alone multiples. If you started spending a billion dollars at a rate of one thousand dollars an hour, it would take you one million hours to spend it … Continue reading What you don’t smell can be a problem.
Spiders and me.
Once upon a time, I was pathologically afraid of spiders. When I was a child, I screamed for my father, paralyzed, whenever I encountered one. Size was irrelevant. Interestingly, I wasn’t paralyzed if he wasn’t home, nor did I call for my mother – she was terrified too. On those occasions, I fled. My father picks spiders up with his bare hands. He’d laugh at … Continue reading Spiders and me.
From Famine to Feast 