My grandmother used to make these delicious cabbage rolls which were the simplest things to make. They weren't spicy and they weren't a grand production, but she always spent a lot of time rolling the rice and tomatoes into cabbage leaves before settling them to cook in tomatoe sauce.

Today, reading one of (the many) favorite blogs within my growing collection of awesome blogs, Life in the Garden of Eden, found a recipe that reminded me so much of my grandmother's cabbage rolls that I decided that's what we're having today. Shawn seems sceptical that I'd want to eat anything 'so plain,' because apparently I am pickier than hell.

It's not so much the food I wanted to make. Each stir of the pot is a stirring of memories of my Grandmother, who was an incredible woman. Each day that passes, I am both appalled and surprised at what I have forgotten about her and what I remember.

It's always been kind of funny to me what triggers a memory or what we end up associating people with. A smell, a sound, a piece of music, color, fabric--do you have any warm and pleasant memories that are triggered by something? Do you do it often on purpose for comfort, or find yourself stumbling accidentally over good memory-finds?

If you're curious, here's the recipe: http://www.home-ec101.com/one-pot-meal-ground-beef-and-cabbage-skillet/

Several disjointed thoughts I have, such as why is it when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has gone still, I can HEAR silence? It's very odd because there really is no other sound like no-sound. That hissing, static drone of--nothing.

My birthday is coming up on July 2nd, and Shawn's father's birthday was yesterday. Because everyone had to/has to work/Shawn's mother getting laid off/the realization of the cost of caring for a diabetic without insurance/ I will be cooking his (our) birthday supper Sunday.

Today, I will pre-cook the meat loaf and the macaroni and cheese with four kinds of cheese because I don't want to have the hassle of cooking for eight people on Sunday.

This way, all I have to do on Sunday is prepare the red 'taters for their bake in rosemary, olive oil and garlic.

Shawn says he'll take me to Tai-Tai on July fourth, but I don't want to go, for a number of selfish and non selfish reasons.

We can't afford it.
We can't afford it.
Fuck it, I'm getting old and birthday's fucking suck fuckity fuck fuck it.
I want to stay home and sulk this year.


Maybe that's half the reason I've been in such a desperation to create something recently.

I will be twenty nine years old this July, 2nd, one year away from the big 3.0, where horrific tales of hairy chins, larger moles, willy nilly birthmarks, deepening voices and night sweats with day chills begin to circulate.

I have a love/hate affair with aging. I cannot wait for the grey or white hair and I cannot wait for my laugh lines to deepen but I don't want the pile of negative shit which starts and I certainly don't need an extra reminder that I am hurtling happily through life toward a permanent dirt nap to which my consciousness will dissipate and my brain will no doubt become a delicious side course for zombies. Or worms. Whichever.

Maybe I'm just not looking forward to my boobs drooping any further, because if these puppies are pummeled by gravity anymore, by the time I hit 50 I'm not going to have torpedo tits, I'm going to have foot warmers.

I baked cookies last night to be desert to today's shrimp/rice/portobello/salmon/asparagus grill day. The recipe is called ( My Big, Fat Chocolate Chip cookies. )I think it's the best recipe for 'chip cookies I've made yet.

Shawn tells me when I cook something well and I taste them for the first time I do this little butt wriggle, side to side weight shift dance as I'm standing in the middle of pots, pans, mixing bowls and the kitchen taste testing. He then labels whatever I'm eating, "Happy __(Insert food here.)"

It's from when I made my orange cup cakes with cream cheese orange frosting and they were so good that I did my little dance when I ate them -- which started him doing the little dance while eating them, which started a horrible chain reaction of me calling them happy cakes, or happy cuppy cakes, which then further immortalized anything pastry-ish or sweet I make as "happy (insert food here.)"

So this is where the Happy Cup Cake Dance came from, and why the cookies were renamed to Happy Chocolate Chip cookies, and perhaps why people think I'm weird.

It's okay, I'll bake them a cookie and send them some happy.

( Naan Bread )is really good with roasted red pepper humus (hummus?). Earlier this morning I dug in the garden, found China but no end to the pine roots yet. After that I made flan and Naan. I AM POET.

I took pictures! COME! DANCE WITH ME IN MY BEYOOOOTEAFULLLL GARDEN OF ROOTS!





AWESOME. A PILE OF DIRT AND ROOTS!

Supper time rolls around and I want to do something different. So I did, but with something I eat a lot of, and that's ground turkey as a substitute for ground beef. The burgers had some unusual spices to them that worked out excellently, and the papaya salsa --ooooh man. Just awesome.

The side dish is what stole the show for me, because honestly, avocado is not something I grew up eating much of. In fact, I don't actually remember ever hearing of it until meeting Shawn.

Go Canadian me!

( Chilli Avocado recipe )

It's pouring rain right now, or else Shawn and I would have spent this evening digging in the garden again. (...yay). I love the sound of distant thunder, not so much right-all-up-in-my-ears though. I think it's more the rain that I love most. How about you, how do you guys like your rain? Soft and sprinkly, or down pour with a side of lightening? Whats your favorite memory of or including the rain?