A wonderful Leonard Cohen tune sung by Madeleine Peyroux. Check out her new CD, The Blue Room….you’ll fall in love guaranteed.
A wonderful Leonard Cohen tune sung by Madeleine Peyroux. Check out her new CD, The Blue Room….you’ll fall in love guaranteed.
Eaten warm or cold, this delicious couscous dish is easy to make, and scrumptious!
Pair it with any succulent gilled meat, and a lovely plate of sweet, juicy tomatoes, and you’re all set!
1 cup dry couscous
1/2 cucumber diced
1/2 yellow bell pepper diced
1/4 cup finely chopped mint, parsley and cilantro
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 lemon – juice of
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1) Add couscous to one cup boiling water. Simmer on low for 5 mins, remove from heat and toss with a fork.
2) Place chopped cucumber, pepper, mint, parsley, cilantro, salt pepper, oil and lemon juice in large glass serving dish and stir until all herbs and vegetables are coated evenly with oil and lemon juice.
3) Add couscous to serving dish and toss to blend with veggies and herbs.
4) Add crumbled feta and toss to blend.
***Be sure to include a few of your best pals to add just the right ambiance.***
Secrets are a harbour of power and potential. They are often described as juicy, scandalous or dark.
Secrets are little bits of knowledge that either peck at you mercilessly from the inside out, leaving you tingling to whisper their power into someone’s ear, or they settle, into your soul like germinating seeds, ready to send their vines outward to blossom.
I’ve got a secret my darlings. Yes, indeed I do. It’s not the kind that’s eating me up from the inside out.
No sweeties, sorry to disappoint. I’ve gotten past having to tame those kind of secrets.
The secret that I have is settled in around my bones like a nice warm duvet. Not to hot, and not too cold. Just right.
It’s blissfully mine, and mine alone.
Every once in a while I take it out and play with it. Examine it. Take in its good side, it’s challenging side, and then tuck it back in where it belongs.
Secrets lose their energy when spoken. The power of their impact ripples outward, stealing the sizzle from the original ball of wonder, and bleeding it out along the path of least resistance.
No longer a secret, the energy stuns and then is, simply forgotten.
When you keep something to yourself, your own secret, it can keep you smiling on a rainy day, get you up in the morning when you’d rather pull the covers over your head, and carry you through challenging times with challenging people.
I have a secret. I hope you do too.
Bells went off when I read this. Every once in a while, I lose my cool, fall down, make a mistake, screw up…you get the picture. I used to berate myself for it, but now I just realize every time this happens, it’s an opportunity to learn.
If a relationship makes you angry all the time – get out. If your job makes you angry all the time – get out. If any situation, person or relationship brings out ugly qualities you try to hide, don’t just cover it up and move on.
Be with the discomfort. Be with your dark side. Learn that every emotion, even anger, fear, resentment and jealousy are part of what it means to be human. Take time to be with that messy stuff and learn from it.
Oh yes, you may also want to distance yourself from the people who turn you from beauty into beast.
Trust me, next time it will be easier, not last as long or cut so deep.
Being spiritual doesn’t mean attaining some bullshit ideal. It means being honest, real, emotional and raw.
Being spiritual equates to being fearless when it comes to holding a mirror up to your own expectations, and the reality that is your humanity in all it’s splendour, and with all of it’s scars.
Above all, being spiritual means trekking deep into the heart of your darkest emotions and confronting the demons.
So laugh, dance, kiss, make wild passionate love, throw out the odd f-word if you must. Be you. You’re perfect.
Inspired by the give and take of every-day relationships; friends, family,lovers, colleagues, foes…
“You want me to go out of my way for you when you have no respect for my time, my boundaries or my well-being? Forget it. You want me to be your emotional confident with nothing in return? Forget it. You want a mutually respectful relationship. I’m all yours baby“.
If you’d like to give Friday Fifty a spin, you must play by the rules as posted at dans les pointes suture darlings. You can leave your fifty in the comments box or post it on your blog and link back to this post.
Twitter etiquette for Friday Fifty on Twitter, then don’t forget to use the hashtag #Friday50. Happy Writing!
Spa visits are rife with interesting conversational tidbits. In my own mind that is.
Now, I have, as most ladies do, a regular aesthetician.
I’ve found a waxer and polisher that I like, and I have been faithful to her for the past five years.
We know what to expect from one another. I drop my pants, and she efficiently goes about her business, with the soothing sounds of water and the pan flute flowing from the sound system.
Water and the pan flute don’t drown out the sound of screaming. That’s somewhat comforting, knowing the music isn’t a cover up for torture chambers, just an attempt to relax you as hot wax drips just millimeters away from your little girl.
Today my groomer was away. Gone. Not to be found. I was at the mercy of another woman, and my anxiety hummed up an octave.
As I spread my grand, gorgeous self across the waxing table, I began to wonder at all of the unspoken thoughts I have, and that my aesthetician must certainly have.
First of all, I always wear ugly undies. It is not desirable that the woman waxing my personality-below-the-belt find my gitch interesting or attractive.
Mainly I’m concerned that they my panties are old enough I won’t care if wax gets on them, and that they are clean and odourless.
If we’re honest with ourselves darlings, the only two reasons that we go to the spa are that we’re too lazy to do the work ourselves (’cause let’s face it, with a little practice any woman can keep her pubes groomed and her nails painted), and, it’s an hour or two long escape from our men and children.
It’s sad that having our pubic hair pulled out is a break from how hard we’re expected to work at home.
So today, with my legs spread open, the only work I do is hold up one side of my Wal-Mart panties as my groomer applies warm wax to the edge of the pleasure pit, and then mercilessly pulls all the hair out. Yah. Nice.
Her method is slightly different, and she’s muttering a bit. I’ve gone so long to the same Vietnamese owned spa that I’m convinced if my labia were to speak, they’d be fluent in Vietnamese slang. If I ever travel to that part of the world, I think I’ll just wear a dress and walk on my hands.
This goes on, until she assumes she’s balded me sufficiently in all the right places. I have a general sense that all is well in the valley of passion, and prepare to get up, and regain my dignity (aka put my pants back on).
Instead, she holds my shoulder down and offers a mirror. “Here. You check.” Pardon? Um… No.
That’s just a little to finicky and a bit kinky for my taste. Looking at my own lady bits in a mirror in this small space with another woman is like the B quality porn warm up to mutual masturbation.
Nah. No thanks. I’ll just take your word for it. I’m having someone come and check your work later on. With their tongue. I’ll let you know what they think.
Next time I’m not just walking in. I’ll be sure to book an appointment with my aesthetician – no mirror required.
We make our way over to the spa chairs, where there is a warm, bubbling spa waiting for my toesies.
There is no eye contact. We both pretend she hasn’t just seen my holiest-of-holies, and I relax as she buffs and polishes the less taboo bits.
There is no tip generous enough in my opinion for the women who do our dirty work.
Hey gorgeous. Yah, you, over there with the spikey hair, green eyes and bad-ass attitude.
Yah, you, you sex pot with your pedicured toes up on that plastic chair waiting for your pizza ‘no queso’, smoking a cigarette like you’re making love to the damn thing.
How are you doing?
You know, we are soul mates of a sort. All prickles on the outside and a big goopey-girl-mess on the inside.
I heard this today and thought of you….and I laughed. I laughed so hard I peed my pants a little bit…LADY!!!
Over ten years ago I met an older, much wiser love-life mentor in the southern hemisphere. We all need at least one older woman to show us the man-ropes. They remind us to have fun, use our brains as well as our hearts, and most importantly, not to settle.
Ms. T used to remind me, ” If this is what he’s like at the beginning, how is it going to end?” In other words, a bad relationship with the wrong guy starts rough, and ends even more rough.
By the time I’d met her, she’d been around, but so had I. We laughed together until our sides ached. We perfected the art of seduction and flirtation. We were daring and out to see and be seen.
We loved the thrill of the chase, thinking that one day we would have it all.
After all these years, we’ve finally figured out that we already did have it all. More than most anyway. Dignity, hard-won as single women, with warm hearts and broad shoulders.
Words indeed do not come easy in a foreign land, but the language of love and mischief is universal.
Keep that little bit of hell-fire burning in your belly ladies. You’ll never know when you might need it!
The best way is to surround yourself with other ‘wild women’, who can remind you who you are when you’ve forgotten.
Thanks Ms. T. for always being silly with me. Love you like cake!
Have you ever had one of those relationships that make you feel relieved when that certain someone finally walks out the door?
It doesn’t have to be a man my lovelies, I’m talking about friends.
My sweethearts, if you’re still putting up with a lover who leaves you feeling exhausted, and not in the delicious-oh-my-goodness-I-can’t-sit-down way we all deserve, then you need to snap out of it.
But I digress….
I had a full weekend of socializing, and catching up with friends who leave me feeling refreshed, smiling, and spiritually buoyed knowing that, although I don’t ‘have-it-all’ by the Bank of Canada’s standard, I do have-it-all when it comes to friends.
None of us will retire wealthy or famous (well, maybe I will, but you know what I’m getting at darlings…). You don’t need a lot of money to be blissfully happy, well-fed, well-hydrated, or well-informed.
My weekends involve a lot of art, a lot of literature, much creativity and enough stimulating company and wine to keep me motivated the other five days of the week.
As is the case with most writers, I like time to myself. Time to daydream, create and observe. But this weekend, I packed in more social time than I’ve had lately.
Following a lovely day at the art gallery, taking in the Revealing the Early Rennaisance exhibit, a relaxing glass of wine, and lovely lunch hosted by my pals, I waved good-bye to my friend’s husband.
After over 30 years together, she still refers to him as, ‘The Animal’. Yes, my delightfully sassy stalks of rhubarb, my pals only settle for the best lovers.
Anyway, The Animal waved goodbye, and I thought to myself, “I’m so lucky to have such wonderful friends.”
Later that day I saw a pal whom I haven’t seen in over 13 years. Why did we meet again? We’ve come together as a group to support another friend of mine. She’s stocking her new home following a heartbreaking marriage split.
Later still, I celebrated a birthday, and earth hour with more friends in a beautifully candlelit room with yummy treats, more wine, and good company. Oh, and a real cutie-patootie-fair-haired slice of man pie, who appeared just as I was leaving. Dee-lish!
This morning I met my wonderful mumster for coffee and a wander at a country craft show, and finally made it home to nest.
Although it was a whirlwind weekend, I enjoyed all of the company I shared. These are the best days of my life.
My heart bursts with gladness at our sharing of one another’s lives; in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer. This is the heart of friendship.
Thank you all so much for your amazing friendship that makes everything ok.
Spring has sprung my delicate flowers!
It’s time to get out there and take in some fresh air, winding your curves through the gorgeous-great-outdoors.
While you’re out letting mother nature put some pep in your step and colour in your cheeks, let a delicious dinner cook slow and easy for you at home.
If it’s sunny and warm, bundle up and enjoy your dinner al fresco.
Serve this yummy dish over rice, accompanied with a tender crisp stir fry of onion, celery, broccoli and snow peas.
Be sure to have a couple of nice, chilled bottles of Alsacian Willm Riesling ready. It’s dry and delicious!
Slow-Cooker Cashew Chicken
3 or 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts or the equivalent of thighs
1/4 cup black pepper
1 tbsp oil
1/4 cup soy sauce ( I prefer President’s Choice – lot of flavour and not so much sodium)
2 tbsp each, rice wine vinegar and ketchup
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 crushed clove garlic
1/2 tsp grated ginger
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
1/2 cup cashews
1) Slice chicken into small strips.
2) Combine flour and pepper in large Ziploc bag and add chicken. Shake to coat all of the chicken.
3) Heat oil in pan and brown chicken about two minutes on each side.
4) Place chicken in slow-cooker
5) Combine the rest of the ingredients except the cashews and pour over chicken.
6) Cook on low for 3 to 4 hours.
7) Add cashews and stir.
***If you’d like to have sauce to pour over the rice, double the sauce ingredients***
A little smile for your leisure pleasure…