Rose's Cantina

"Are you really going to eat that?" asked my husband. The "that" he was referring to was a spaghetti squash casserole I made for dinner last night. He watched in horror as I warmed it up for breakfast. "Of course," I said. "It's absolutely delish." I worked nights as a reporter for years, so I can eat anything anytime of the day. My colleagues often congregated at my house for beer, pancakes and Canada AM at the crack o' dawn once a week or so. We scared the neighborhood children. Sometimes we went to Gord Lovelace's tony house in New Edinburgh and sat on the front porch smoking doobies, drinking beer and watching the public servants shuffling off to work in their Harry Rosen suits. One day, a guy named Louis Bertrand decided to trim Lovelace's lilac bushes with a bullwhip. Where did we get the bullwhip? I cannot recall. When I'm very, very bad I eat pizza for breakfast, but now that I'm very, very good and eating h...

When I was a skinny little farm girl, I used to pick strawberries to make enough money to buy my treats. Sometimes, I'd ride the half mile to a little confectionery, other times, I'd stand on the dusty road and wait for the Avondale Dairy truck. At the little store, I would purchase a Lick-a-Maid, a bag of chips, more often a butterscotch cone. From the dairy truck, I'd buy an ice cold bottle of orange juice and chug-a-lug it, feeling the cold liquid running down my cheek. These are still powerful memories. As I sit here drinking my Chai tea, getting ready to make a smoothie for me and the working stiff, these memories offer up a little clarity, into the sad behavior that led me to put on fifty pounds of blubber over the last decade. I can hear the brilliant lyrics from Will.I.Am We are the Now Generation/We are the Generation Now/ I want it now As kids growing up in the 60s, we had to wait and anticipate our favorite snacks and foods. Today, we eat them at...