The week in suppers: vegetarian fail
**Monday’s menu** All-you-can-eat sushi. Birthday cake.
**Mama’s day off** All-you-can-eat sushi has become something of a family birthday tradition, and Kevin was happy to choose this for his birthday supper. Plus our friend Nath made him a Guinness cake. This saved me from sweating the impossible on a day spent waiting at dr’s appointments and running errands.
**Tuesday’s menu** Turkey soup (crockpot). Quinoa. Roasted beets.
**Leftover inspiration** We have a lot of turkey meat leftover from the crockpot turkey last Friday. Truth is, I don’t much like turkey. Or meat. This soup was okay. People liked it. Just not me.
**Deep purple** A friend texted me to ask what greens would go with quinoa, beets, goat cheese and walnuts. After I stopped drooling I suggested spinach or arugula. And then I got the bag of beets out the cold cellar and roasted them on the spot–because I was already making quinoa (weird coincidence). So I ate a bowl of quinoa with sliced roasted beets and goat cheese and a dressing of vinegar and tamari sauce. Should have committed and made a real salad out of it. But it saved me from eating turkey.
**Wednesday’s menu** Harira (lentil soup, crockpot). Leftover quinoa. Roasted beet salad.
**Family togetherness** We actually got to eat this supper together, sitting at the table. Everyone liked the harira and quinoa except for CJ, who ate plain quinoa with yogurt. I dressed the sliced beets with a grainy mustard vinegrette and everyone tried it. A few even liked it and asked for seconds and thirds. “It tastes pickled,” said one child. (Pickled is a good thing at our house.)
**Thursday’s menu** Mashed potatoes. Creamed turkey. Peas. Cabbage/rutabaga slaw.
**Plus a picnic for Soccer Girl** AppleApple had early goalie practice, squeezed in directly after all four kids had a dentist appointment, so I made her a pita pizza to go. The rest of us enjoyed the meal. It felt very old-fashioned. I’m personally thankful to report that this used up the last of the leftover turkey meat.
**Friday’s menu** Mashed potato casserole. Hummus and pita.
**AKA “Leftover Surprise”** Last night’s leavings made the perfect Leftover Surprise. I mixed together the mashed potatoes, the smattering of creamed turkey, the peas, added some milk, salt and pepper, spread everything into a buttered casserole, topped with grated cheese, and baked for 20 minutes at 400. Just add ketchup. Everyone loved it.
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**Weekend cooking accomplishments** Four loaves of bread. (That’s all??? Uh oh. Zero treats. Sorry, kids.)

**Cooking with kids** Albus’s turn. Sushi, maki, sashimi. With real sushi-grade raw salmon. Miso soup. (That’s a look of concentration on his face, not displeasure. He worked really hard on this meal.)
Catch the light
Yesterday I was writing to deadline, pulling together some notes on the context and writing of The Juliet Stories for the ebook version that will be published alongside the printed book. Ebooks offer flexibility, room for extra material, and mine will also include one of my character’s songs. The essay is a short piece with photos scattered throughout. Distillation was key. I think you’ll like it.
But this morning I came across a longer meditation on the same subject, written while I was in the middle of discovering this book’s potential to be what it has become. So if you’re interested in a more detailed, mid-process version, visit “Midwife to Stories.” (Interesting also that the story I was in the midst of writing did not make it into book; goes to show how much gets discarded along the way; and how important it is not to worry about whether or not it will be discarded when you’re working. You can’t get at the story any other way. It all matters.)
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Yesterday evening, as promised, I went for a walk in the dark during soccer practice. I walked briskly for six kilometres, which took about an hour; I could run twice the distance in the same amount of time. The air was crisp and cool and more like mid-October than early February. I’d dressed differently than I would have for a run, and I regretted that; I was too cautious. When I go for another walk tomorrow, I will leave behind the heavy winter coat and the big boots. Both completely unnecessary. The good news is that I was able to march without pain; and that being outside had an excellent effect on my body and mind. I’m still finding acceptance difficult — accepting that I can’t run for now — but there are alternatives and the alternatives can be good, too. Different, but good. If I had to give up running, I decided last night, I would get a dog. I would hike in the woods. I would hike long distances. One way or another, I would cover the ground.
After the walk, I got to watch my Soccer Girl scrimmage for fifteen minutes. As you may remember, she was a rep goalkeeper last season, and will be again this summer. But if you’d happened across the field yesterday evening, you simply wouldn’t have believed it. She looked for all the world like a centre forward. She scored four goals, and came close to six. She handled the ball with such confidence, dribbling through defenders, keeping control, biding her time. She made lovely passes to teammates. She waited patiently, using the space on the field, knowing the ball would come to her. It was so fun to watch. Sometimes parenthood is sweeter than anything else on earth. (And it only takes a smidgen of sweetness to make up for the underlying anxiety and vicarious pain that is so much a part of parenthood too.)
Blogging under the influence

one of my favourite places for a walk
I’m blogging under the influence of an excess of restless energy. I haven’t exercised since this head cold knocked me sideways on Wednesday … plus the cavity-filling during yesterday’s potential exercise slot … and deciding to stay up late to watch Groundhog Day last night and therefore sleep in this morning … which really only adds up to three days of exercise-deprivation. Apparently, three days is WAY TOO LONG for my brain to be stuck inside a sedentary body.
I can see a real dip in my patience, in my frame of mind, in my focus in the absence of a) sunshine b) the outdoors and c) an endorphin-rush.
I can also see the less pleasant aspects of my personality poking out like sharp elbows. The all-or-nothing self. ie. I haven’t run for almost three weeks and therefore I will never get back into shape ever again! The doom-and-gloom self. ie. This is worst winter ever. The snappish self. ie. The one slamming the office door.
I need a new go-to form of exercise. Nothing obvious has presented itself, and my attempts to fill the void feel slapdash and ineffectual, ie. I’ve found myself doing lunges in the kitchen while eating a hardboiled egg or even while doing the dishes (not a very effective way either to do lunges or the dishes; or egg-eating, for that matter). Anxiety is creeping in: What if I’ve lost my drive? What if I’ve lost my willpower and my determination? It’s circular, of course. The less I exercise, the more anxious I feel.
I’m looking into a membership at a nearby gym. I’ve scouted another early morning spin class on Thursdays. And I’m open to suggestions.
My daughter has a soccer practice tonight. How I wish I could run in the dark. Okay, I have to accept that for now, I can’t. But I can walk in the dark, right?* And I’m gonna. For the sake of everyone around me.
*This walk has been approved by Kevin and the rest of my dear sweet family.
Just a little midwinter freezing and thawing

I’ve given up. There will be no writing this week. There will be, instead, a head cold, dental work, more tests on the creaky hip, appointments, and errands. There will be a PD day (no school for the kids). The laundry will pile up. The suppers will be uninspired. I will also decree some late-night tv watching. Why not?
As for today, as my face thaws nicely post-freezing-and-drilling, I’m going to recline on the couch under a blanket and sink into a book. It stops me feeling sorry for myself, which is the state of mind I loathe more than any other. Yes, it is February. Yes, the rain came and washed away the snow, and then the cold came and froze the slush into lumps of grey. And yes, the sky is the same colour as the lumps of grey frozen everything. And there are flocks of crows in the neighbourhood trees crying and calling. (Let’s call them a murder of crows; let’s put some poetry into our grey). It’s Groundhog Day; I don’t know whether the fat fellow saw his shadow, but if he did that means there was sun.
This too shall pass.
I can feel my cheek again. I can swallow this cup of coffee. I can read a good book. Oh, and it’s fiction — Let the Great World Spin. I’d forgotten (briefly) how much I need fiction in my life. Sure, I like learning new things and taking in facts and theories. But nothing is quite as true for the human soul as the world retold through the imagination. Bless the words.
Books, books, books, books, books and ebooks too
I am not the only Carrie Snyder ever to publish a book. In fact, I’m not even the only Carrie A. Snyder ever to publish a book. Another Carrie Snyder published a book entitled Euthanasia and another on Death and Dying. Folks, that’s not me. And Carrie A. Snyder published several books on drawing. How to Draw Horses. You Can Draw Funny Animals. Also not me. And, just speculating here, probably not the author of Euthanasia either. I wonder whether people who find us awkwardly listed together on Amazon or Goodreads assume that the Carrie Snyders are all one really weird person? As an aside, I used to spend a lot of time drawing horses. Badly. I probably could have used that book.
I am currently reading Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann. Stories to break your heart. They kept me up late last night even though I should have been resting my cold-laden head.
I finished The Tipping Point last week. An excellent marketing book, if only I could figure out how to put the ideas into play. How does one tip? How to tip The Juliet Stories from the somewhat echoing chamber of my circle of friends and family (yes, that’s you!) and into the broader world? I thoroughly enjoyed Malcolm Gladwell’s chapter on Connectors, Mavens, and Salespeople. I’m pretty sure my eldest is a Maven-in-the-making, and it was comforting to read about the upsides of this personality-type: Albus is the only person I’ve ever met who pores indiscriminately over any flyer that comes through the door; he also knows exactly what things cost, and if there’s a latest new anything, he’s onto it. The interesting thing about Salespeople is that they are able to change the moods of those around them. And their own moods are quite unaffected by those around them. This is what is known as charisma. Though I wonder–are you only charismatic if you’re an upbeat person? Connectors are people who seem to know everyone. We all know people like that. I’d like to be a connector, but I’m probably not. I’m terrible with names for starters. If I forget your name, please don’t be offended; I have a blind spot. I’ve forgotten names of people I’ve known for decades and see on a weekly basis. I wish I were exaggerating. This will be torture at book-signings.
I’m also still reading — dipping into — the biography of Mordecai Richler. In my defense, it’s very thick! And the author, Charles Foran, is definitive in the extreme, leaving no cocktail party or early rejection letter unmentioned. I can see why he would choose this approach, given that he’s writing about a very complicated person about whom others had vastly varying and polarized opinions. But it’s a lot of detritus. Life is stuffed with minutiae and a writer’s life may have even more, given the writer’s penchant for writing things down.
Last bookish musing of the morning … I had an interesting conversation this morning between a friend and a friend-of-a-friend about the shifts in the book industry, and how publishers are exploring the possibilities within digital publishing — publishing children’s books as downloadable apps for your iPhone, for instance, or creating a multimedia experience out of an existing children’s book, again downloadable to your phone. What do parents out there think? Would you entertain your child with a book-app, or a book-related game?
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News: Confirmed Juliet-related dates
Feb. 25 Launch party at the Starlight in Waterloo, 7:30-9:30
March 7 Harbourfront reading series 7:30
May 16 TYPE books in Toronto with Heather Birrell 6-9
While I’m excited about the anticipated activity, it also gives me pause. Hurray! Readings! is followed quickly by faint queasiness: Gulp! Readings! A reading is like a race: I’m happy when I’m actually doing it, and I’m thrilled to have done it immediately afterward, but the lead-up is crazy-making.


