Bark. Bark. Bark bark bark.

Isn't cinnamon just ground up bark? Why does it have an expiry date? And does the expiry date really matter?
Cuz, like, I make pretty fantastical cinnamon buns on a fairly regular basis. They always taste quite yummy and I've never had anyone refuse to eat one (occasionally people will pick off the raisins but never refuse to eat the bun.)
And yeah, after Maeve and I made bread and cinnamon buns today I was putting the cinnamon back in the cupboad and happen to notice the expiry date. Umm... October 2015. 

No-one has died. No one has gagged on one. I'm marginally embarrassed about it. And I did go to Costco this afternoon to buy steak (and they were super yummy Ribeye with lots of marbling for $26/kg - wished I woulda picked up a couple of packs) And I bought a replacement cinnamon while I was there.

303 grams in a jar. That's the most bizarre measure I have ever seen on a food item.  Thinking it must translate over to a nice even number in ounces, I googled it.  It…

Toasty fingers and frozen ass. This is my job.

Tonight was my first art party of 2018.  Can you believe it's 2018?

Actually I have no problem adjusting to the fact it is 2018, but I seem to have lost 2017 somewhere.  I know it's 2018, but I feel like 2016 was last year. Whenever I see something posted online as 2016, I totally see it as being last year.  Kinda like the 90's being "a couple of years ago" I suppose.

About an hour before time to leave to instruct my Wine and Paint Night art party, my (oh-so-smart) hubby says, "Maybe you should open your garage door and start your granny-mobile for a bit, it's pretty cold in your [unheated] garage."

Even though I know the mobile has been parked since before New Year's Eve, I replied, "Last time it was -30, my garage was -6, so it should be good."

Fast forward to time to leave:

I activate 2 "Little Hotties" hand warmers for my gloves (can't show up to a paint party with frozen fingers) I kiss hubby goodbye, head to the g…

Here's My Monumental Pile of Rocks for 2017

I can be a bit of a flake at times,  but the one tradition I seem to hold solidly to is revisiting and rehashing my year, on or about December 31st... and exposing it to all my friends and family. Thanks for playing along as I present the latest anecdotes and exaggerations in the lives of Albert and Liana.

This post actually takes me a number of days to formulate, and this year at more than one point I tried to convince myself this is stupid, you don't actually have to do this just because you have in the past.

And then I go to church on New Year's Eve morning and the Pastor speaks of God's people crossing the river Jordan and He instructs them to gather stones from the river bed to construct a monument of remembrance. The purpose of the monument is not to make an idol to hang out with forever, but to create a point of reference which can be revisited at times to show where you have been and how far you've come. And so I present you with my monument to 2017, so that I…

I blamed the daycare

Currently it is somewhere around -30 degrees and there is a traffic jam on my quiet residential street.

The house across the street, next to the park, was home to a successful daycare/preschool for a number of years. And by successful, I mean one that had a lot of kids attending. And with a lot kids comes a lot of pick-up and drop-offs through the day, and traffic jams on our residential street every day at 9am, 12-1pm and 3:00pm. Many times I had to wait to get out of or into my driveway as parents would park right across the end of the driveway "for a quick sec" while they dropped or picked their kid up.

I tried not to get too grouchy about it as I know decent daycare can be hard to find. Other than the traffic and the incessant screaming and general park noises, the daycare wasn't too bothersome.

Well, the daycare became so successful, it actually moved and took over the Child Development Centre back in September.  Yet still, we periodically get random traffic jams o…


December 6, 2016. The day a piece of my heart was ripped out. 

But rather than mourn and hate the day that I lost my best friend, I choose rather to reflect upon the blessing it was to journey together through the years. 

As a means of reminiscing and counting my blessings I put photos to the memories I shared at Barbee's Celebration of Life. 

BFF. It’s a term invented by adolescent girls indicating that someone was their Best Friend Forever. Barbee and I were BFF’s. And although we sometimes joked it meant Big Fat Friends, we always knew we were best friends forever. I know we are sisters-in-law but I have always thought of her first as my best friend.
When one thinks about best friends you tend to think of two people who have everything, or at least much, in common. Not Barbee and I. We were actually weirdly opposites in so many ways.
Barbee had musical talent. She loved to play the mandolin, and Albert has always said she has such a pure singing voice. I don’t even know what a “pu…