Words. The most powerful source known to humanity.

I love words. I love to write them. I love to know their meanings. I love to know their origins. But speaking them - not so much.  You can't edit and delete spoken words. You can't eat them and take them back. 

Tomorrow my beautiful little five-year-old turns six.

On one hand I can hardly remember life without my little Maeve Liliana, on the other hand it seems only weeks ago I played the role of midwife as her mother delivered her at home on the floor in the back hall.

And tomorrow her mom will read her the story of her birth (Granny Has a Midwife Crisis)  as she does each year on her birthday.

Her party is tomorrow and Mommy has been sick most of the week so I went over there tonight to help in whatever way I could.  This included giving the birthday girl a bath, braiding her hair and doing her nails.

During her bath our conversation included her telling me (for the umpteenth time and as if I didn't know the story) about the sad day that her her mom's mom, Grandma Alma, passed away from a heart attack. (which was about six years before her birth)

"Granny, if she was still alive, she would spoil me rotten. Well... not rotten as in rotten. She would just spoil me with love and toys."

"Yes, Maevey. She would spoil you. And even though you can't see her, she knows all about you and she is so very proud of you. So proud that her only granddaughter is so kind, and beautiful and smart. And she'd so pleased that you are such a friendly loving little girl."

"I'm a big girl, Granny."

"Yes, Maevey, yes you are."

"And Mommy's sister, Aunty Angela would also spoil me with toys if she didn't pass away too. And she would totally love to come to my birthday tomorrow."

"Oh yes, Maeve. Aunty Ang would be here for your birthday if she could. It would be one of her favourite days of the year."

Granny's heart simultaneously breaks and bursts with pride for her granddaughter who has always seemed wise beyond her years.

After her bath, as I was doing her hair, mommy came in the room and said, "Thank you so much, Granny, for coming over. I really didn't have the energy to help her bath and do her hair tonight."

I continued braiding Maeve's hair as I responded, more to her than to Mommy, "Oh, I was totally excited to come spend the last day with my favourite five year old."

The room falls silent. Miss Maevey's eyes filled with tears. "Granny, is this really the last time you are ever going to see me?"

Oh.my.heart! "No! No! Maevey Mouse, it's just the last time I will see you as a five year old. Tomorrow you will be my favourite six year old!"

Relief washes over her face and I am stabbed with the reality of the power and force simple spoken words carry.

No matter the intended meaning, or the casualness with which we speak, we really have no idea how forcefully our words are capable of affecting those around us. Especially our wee ones.

May I interest you in a beaver butt breakfast bun?

I'm a carnivore. I have no problem salivating over a steak or mowing (this sounds like "mau, as in "Maui" ing, not mow, as in cutting-the-grass, ing.) down on chicken parts or pig ribs. Meat is a big part of our diet.

However, there are certain animal consumption scenarios I am not comfortable with: I wouldn't eat a cat. You probably couldn't pay me enough to consume moose liver. And you won't find me dining on sheep's eyeballs anytime soon. (These are all things some people across our world will joyfully consume.) 

But what about the secretions from beaver anal glands? Now doesn't that sound like an excursion in yumminess? 

When it comes to eating candy, I always savour 'red' flavours - raspberry, strawberry, cherry and even watermelon. And what about vanilla? Mmmm yum. Vanilla flavoured anything, even scented items that aren't actually eaten are simply divine. Or are they? 

Let's digress for a second here...

Do you ever buy blueberry muffins or bagels? 

I don't know the reasoning here - be it cost, preservability, taste or whatever-  but about 99% of the time, if you actually read the labelling, it will say "simulated blueberry flavour" or something like that. 
 That's because those 'chunks of blueberry goodness' aren't actually blueberries. Or anything in the fruit and vegetable world actually. They are coloured chunks of beaver anal gland secretions. Yup. read that again. Congealed beaver anal gland secretions. 

My apologies if you thought you were vegan, yet eat anything store-bought that is blueberry, raspberry or vanilla flavoured. Ingredient listings will say "natural flavours." And truly, the anal glands of beavers are pretty much as natural as you can get. But vegan they are not. 

You can google or Snopes this if you think this is just too far fetched to be real. 

Castoreum can be defined as the yellowish brown  unctuous slime substance with a strong, penetrating odour which beavers secrete from castor sacs located in skin cavities between the pelvis and the base of the tail, and spray when scent marking their territory. (The location of the beaver's castor sacs means that castoreum also often includes a mixture of anal gland secretions an urine as well.)

Castoreum is so favourably fragrant, that we've been using it to flavour ice cream, gum, pudding, candy and brownies - and basically anything that could use vanilla, raspberry, blueberry, or strawberry substitute, for nearly a century. 

Gag if you must. But you cannot deny eating this in your lifetime.

My obvious first question is ... who the hell discovered this? Seriously??!! Who was the first person to think, "Let's eat this beaver's anal glands to see if we can market it as candy, pudding and simulated vegan flavouring in muffins and bagels."? 

Bagel anyone?