Disney

As a child I had full rights to watch a Disney movie repetitively, non-stop, night and day, to the insanity of my mother (though I don't think that I ever was such a child, I rather played outside).  Now, as an adult, it would appear that the liberty to enjoy a good animated movie is no longer mine.  The ticket to Pixar's latest blockbuster hit really belongs to the children, and my ticket in is the child.  Can I reasonably view Cinderella with out my little Gracie, or can I lounge around on a Sunday afternoon watching Car's without my little James?  Yet I have no ticket, I have no child.  Those adults who are wise are able to enjoy their second childhood as fully as their first, as they discover the world with their children.  Sometime when I walk the halls of the children's hospital, overhearing the latest children's movies, I'm tempted to secretly return to my childhood, and rent Disney's latest and watch it all by myself.

Pain Perdu

Pain Perdu with an Amaretto Crème Anglaise Sauce. 

Pain Perdu is really just French toast, but as with most French food, it's pretty fancy eating.  The French themselves consider the dish a dessert, though I've chosen to host it as dinner tonight.  (Pain Perdu translates to "lost bread", which was a dish created to reclaim stale bread.)  

The dish is prepared by taking stale bread that has been sliced on a bias and dipping it in a wash of egg, heavy cream, vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon.  The bread is lightly fried, buttered, and dusted with confectioner sugar.  The dish is then topped with fresh berries and drizzled with amaretto crème Anglaise (English cream), consisting of egg yolks, sugar, heavy cream, vanilla bean, and amaretto (optional).  The dish is finished off with a sprinkle of confectioner sugar and served with a side of vanilla bean ice cream.  

Etiquette

Why should I become so frustrated with the apparent lack of etiquette in our society today.  After all, is it not the societal norms that determine what is couth and what is not?  Is it that society has become uncultured, or rather that the culture has changed?  I cling to the mannerisms of a past generation while living amongst a brash people, trying not to let the lack of pleasantries dishearten me, yet it does.  If I had children I would teach them manners beyond the simple sayings of please and thank you, which seems to be the extent of etiquette taught in the homes of today, thought even these small tokens are a feat to instill into the children of today.  Dinning etiquette is all but lost, dancing etiquette has passed into the void, and even the most basic etiquette of conversation is beyond us.  I fear that with the passing of the generations that such things will soon become extinct.

Forest of Healing

"Forest of Healing" 2011
Oil on Canvas 18x24"

Disease and ailments of the heart are ever upon us, striving to take the vitality that gives us life.  When all has been taken, and we are weak with nothing left, it is the passions of the heart that keeps us going.

There is a little girl with a chronic health condition who often frequents Primary Children's and art is the passion that keeps her going during her long visits to the hospital.  Recently I offered to give her oil painting lessons, and the above composition was painted with her.  For these reason I titled the pieces "Forest of Healing".  The piece will be given to my sister as a thank you for her contribution to Primary Children's play therapy programs.

Addendum:
The little girl that I referred to in the above passage passed away this Memorial Day due to complications of cystic fibrosis.  She passed at 12 years of age, the past 7 of which I have been privileged to share with her.  

Spring

Every culture has a different definition of when the beginning and end of the season is.  Our current system is based off of the solar calendar, namely that each equinox or solicit is the first day of their respective season.  I do not believe that this is the best definition for the seasons.  Why should the longest day of the year be the first day of summer, when every day after that approaches fall and winter, and every day before it approaches summer.  According to my logic, each equinox and solicit should be the midpoint of that season, rather than the beginning.  Thus the summer solicit, the longest day of the year, would be the midpoint of summer, rather than the first day of summer.  The first day of a season would be the date exactly between each equinox and solicit.  These dates tend to be more inline with what we would call a season by the nature of the weather and world around us.

Other cultures define the season with less precision, and in many ways, their lesser degree of precision yields to them greater degree of accuracy.  For many, the first day of fall begins with the last harvest of the season, the first day of winter with the first snowfall.  By this, Mother Earth determines her seasons, rather than by the calenders and calculations of man.  There is a certain comfort in allowing nature to define herself and speak to us.  

For many weeks now I have noted that buds have been forming on the trees and that spring flowers have been breaking soil.  With today's warm sunny morning came the blooming of the first crocus, and with it the beginning of spring.  

Broken

Coming to terms with the fact that you are, in a way, 'broken' is an interesting developmental process.  People do not refer to transient conditions in a personal way.  They say, "I have the Flu" or "a cold".  But conditions of life that impart some kind of permanence to the body or soul must be internalized.  We do not say "the asthma is killing me", rather we say "my asthma is killing me", "my diabetes", "my scared heart".  They become part of who we are, but it is not an instantaneous process, rather it is a process that slowly proceeds from initial shock and denial, to self internalization and acceptance.  It becomes part of who we are, part of how we identify ourselves.

Being a deep thinker, I find myself watching this process take place inside myself, almost as if I were watching from the third person as I observe how it plays out in 'my' newly diagnosed ulcerative colitis.

I have a dream...

I have a dream that one day a woman may share equal rights and wage with her male counter part.

I have a dream that one day a man may marry who he will, irrespective of gender.

I have a dream that one day a Hispanic child may receive an equal chance to raise out of poverty, to equal education and health.

I have a dream that one day a young white male will have an equal chance to education, that he will not be discriminated against because he is not the minority, that merit will determine his fate rather than his colour or gender.

I have a dream that one day a mosque, church, synagogue, and temple may one day line the same street, and that all may worship freely without discrimination.

I have a dream that one day political affiliation will not determine the choice you must make, but that a man can decide for himself what is right and wrong.

I have a dream that the rights of freedom, health, and the pursuit of happiness will lay equally before all the children of Eden.