One day when I was 13, my mom landed on her elbow skating at an outdoor rink in Vickers Park in Thunder Bay. The main reason I remember this mundane, albeit painful experience for my mom, is that it was my first attempt at making homemade bread while her elbow was in a sling. Although I had rejected the prospect of store-bought bread, I do remember the crust peeled off, the slice crumbled, and I was generally unimpressed with my results.
Larissa texted me, “You’re a celebrity! You’re In The Hills”! I know she was somewhat tongue in cheek, but isn’t it every entrepreneur’s wish that someone notices their work? It surely was mine even if I didn’t realize it until it happened.
The feeling of warmth and gratification was noticeable as I pored over the mention of my workshops. [ahem.. page 88 in the Spring issue of “In The Hills” if you haven’t read it yet!] Toiling behind the scenes in any endeavour is not particularly gratifying. Heck, it’s why meal planning goes by the wayside all too often in my house.. it gets no recognition, it gets boring, and couldn’t someone else please plan what we’re going to eat, get the groceries and prep it all for goodness sake?
22 years after I retired at the age of 32, women are far more important to me now than they were then.
I had no idea how hard it is to be a mom. Were it not for the honesty and support of other women, I’m convinced my children would not be who they are today. That’s not to diminish the partnership of my husband, but women play a unique role for other women, and I’m indebted to many, many women in my life.
I say - ‘You go, Grace! And thanks for the plug! Here’s a recipe I suggest you try - recommended by my own kids who were so proud to make these whenever I would buy bagels and wieners for them! They too, had their own PC baking tools that I was expressly and loudly forbidden to touch! Please have your mom write to me when you try them?’
The sky is a light aqua blue I’ve only seen in northern skies on cold sunny days. The open hillside is blindingly bright white with unbroken snow, except for our snowshoe prints and rabbit and fox prints that cast deep tiny blue shadows. We’re pausing for a rest and are drinking steaming hot chocolate from Thermos’s and sweating lightly in our warm parkas. The skin on my cheeks is cold on the surface, but my hands feel warm against them. My mitts are wet. I’m sure my eyes are shining because they do right now as I picture this day.