Wednesday, July 29, 2015
The butter isn’t cold enough. Your Mom is reading Oprah’s magazine (a Christmas issue from 2011) on the couch and I call to her, “This’ll only take about ten minutes!” There’s no way I’ve fooled her. No way. I’ve got all the ingredients lined up on the counter. You and your father will return in approximately forty five minutes from fishing and expect lunch. I made it sound like baking a pie was no biggie but, truth be told, it’s a huge biggie, the biggest biggie. I’ve never made a pie. That’s a lie. I’ve made a pie, what idiot hasn’t made a pie? I’ve never made a crust.
Why must the butter be cold, you ask? While I’m not a profesh baker, I am a profesh scientist. Not really. We use cold butter because butter is made of yummy fats and water. When the pie goes into that sexy preheated oven the water evaporates quickly and creates that sweet-dreams-are-made-of-this flaky pie crust.
Sunday December 14
Eyewitness Travel London
When we find our way back to the cabin, we’re laughing.
We’re drunk on the highs and lows of love and winter.
When we sit in front of the roaring fire we make jokes about the times we were dumber.
“We weren’t dumb,” you say.
“We were free then,” you say.
You make stew with lamb and sweet potatoes.
I chop wood.
Snow starts to fall and comes down like a dusting of possibility.
The candles burn low.
I peel clementines and toss the rind on the fire.
We’re in Florida for a few minutes.
In the oranges groves of your grandfather’s farm.
Sunday October 26, 2014
from the early draft of a screenplay
Anja sat quietly in the front seat, not wanting to disturb her father while he was lost. She knew she’d only have a few more calm minutes with him before he lost his temper, and she didn’t want to reduce them by saying the wrong thing, or breathing too loudly. Anja had wanted to go up to the cabin with her father ever since she was a kid, but for some reason they never did things just the two of them. Of course Pat got to do everything with their father, and he’d come home shining like the sun after a weekend alone with him. Anja knew she didn’t have much to say to her father, but always assumed that was because she never got to go on these trips like her brother did. If she had had the opportunity, she would have made herself known. She would have told a few jokes and proven how strong she was, and fearless. It felt like the two of them, finally spending some quality time together, had been driving in circles for at least an hour. Anja wondered briefly if this moment would be enough to bring them closer together.
Saturday May 4, 2013
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
There was never a spot like Jenny’s Cabin, never a place I felt more safe or more happy. I’d spent as many weekends there in the summer as I could muster, and chose my day camp counsellor job accordingly (monday to friday). It was on a small lake near Georgian Bay. Jenny had met my mother at the library but when we’d had her over for dinner it was her and I that actually connected. My mother was a bit disappointed but nothing she couldn’t get over with a few gin and tonic’s and a Harlequin Romance. Jenny would take me to Shopper’s and give me a twenty to buy whatever I wanted. She knew how important a drugstore was to a seventeen year old. All summer long I’d take the bus up to the on Fridays at five thirty and Jenny would pick me up. Sometimes she’d be wearing her tiger print bikini with a pair of overalls. That was my favorite. Jenny told me about blow jobs, the importance of eating vegetables, and not sacrificing what you want for a man. We’d spend hours in the lake, we’d smoke joints while treading water, laughing til we peed.
Saturday,December 1, 2012 at Rustic Owl Cafe
Somebody stop the music? I can’t hear the music anymore and I’ve been sittin’ here almost an hour or two now. Could be three, to tell ya the truth! Ha! I swears I’m goin’ deaf in my left ear anyway. Maybe the music is gone but just in the side of my body that can’t hear. Maybe the music is in the right and I just needs to listen harder. Oh, who knows anythin’ about anythin’ anymore. Are we a bunch of rats just scrapin’ around for a couple of left over cheese bis on the ground? Or do we not need more than that to get by?
Nice place ya got here. It reminds me of them old wood cabins that look like they’d be real cold but they sure are warm enough to keep you sane! I remember visitin’ my Annabell’s cottage over a decade ago and I was prepared to shake my buns off that entire weekend. She told me it was about time I got myself up there to visit. I knew she wanted me there for the kids, first, but also so she could keep a watch on me. Now I don’t go around pretendin’ to be better than I am. I knows exactly who I am and I don’t need nobody to tell me twice. But, I can’t lie about feelin’ a bit inadequate when my daughter feels the need to keep her eye on me just in case I go off the deep end.