COOOFFEE!!!!

I love coffee. This is not a secret facet of my personality as I sit here with my Venti.
I love good coffee, life is too short for bad coffee.
Now, don't get me wrong, I like tea too. We're a good English/Irish/Scottish family, we drink tea. But tea is a night time thing. On the porch during a thunderstorm. When somebody dies, make a pot of tea and dig out the rum.
Coffee however, is a morning thing. It's dawn on that same front porch getting ready for a road trip. It's "I've been up all night doing god knows what and it's time to pay the piper and go to work".
For me, coffee is social. I like to get the girls together for the occasional "sip n bitch". With the girls sometimes we sip wine. But more often we hang out at Starbucks till the staff, oh so politely kicks us out.Usually at closing time. After we've been there for five hours or so.
I love the smell of coffee. It smells like home, and fun and laughter.
I love hot coffee in the winter, I love to wrap my hands around a hot mug of coffee when there's frost on the ground.
Coffee is cultural. Would Canada BE Canada without our sea to shining sea Tim Horton's?
 Would Italy be the same if you DIDN'T have to have  four years of  training and a License to  be a Barrista? Probably not.
I know Every place to get good coffee in this county. As a visiting nurse you need to know these things...it's a job requirement.
In Belleville, always Starbucks. These guys know me by name, drink, mood. Fantastic staff. Sweet escapes downtown is also fantastic.
In Trenton, the Grind. Also, fantastic desserts.
In Centre Hastings it's "Amazing Coffee in Madoc. The name says it all. Ask for a maple latte. You won't be disappointed
Stirling Has West Wings and the Bakery. But they also have Jenny's country lane. Now Jenny doesn't do the coffee drinks but her perk has never been bad.
Bancroft. Well, Bancroft doesn't have any Coffee Bar type places that I know of. They have two Tim Horton's which will do quite nicely. What they DO have is the Bancroft Bed and Breakfast. I stay with the Wishlows every time I'm in the 'croft. Never once had a bad breakfast or bad cup of coffee with Ken and Kathy.
I have a co worker who is opening a B+B in Frankford. Joe and I have frequently discussed the need for top notch coffee at a B&B. I am confident, since Joe is a smart man, that J+J's B+B will be above average in the coffee department. 


 

A letter to my Nephews.

I read a blog not so long ago in which a man wrote a letter to his hypothetically gay son. It really got to me that a man would put in writing what he planned to do to support his son. It said to me that regardless of what the future holds, this man intends to do what he can to help his boy. And he means to be held accountable to that intention by the son himself.
Now, I don't have any children. 
What I have, as anybody who has read this blog can attest, is nephews. I have four of them. Soon to have five. I take my job as their aunt very seriously.
Seriously enough to make them some promises and put those promises on line. So that if I fall down on the job they can pull these things up and hold me accountable to the aunt job. This is by no means a statement of my faith in the boy’s parents; they have fantastic parents. This is what I mean to do as Aunt Jen.

Hello my loves.
This is your promise list. If you ever find I'm not keeping my promises to you, I expect one of you to print this out and bring it to me to remind me.

I promise to love you all the days of my life. Gay, straight, religious, atheist, right wing, left wing, anarchist or conformist. You are my boys and that will not change.

I promise to respect you. You are people even when you are small.

I promise to get to know who you are, not expect you to be who I want.

I promise to be your safe place. If sometimes you need a break from your parents never for a moment think you have no place to go. I am that place.

I promise to help with your education. Education is important but being saddled with huge debts when you’re done is stressful. I'll do what I can.

I promise to kick your butts as hard, if not harder than your parents. Never for a moment think that just because your mom and dad didn't see you do something it's cool. The world is a rough place for people who don't learn right from wrong. I would be remiss in my job if I let you think you can get away with being a jerk.

I promise to let you be boys. Being a boy is not always encouraged in today's world. It's perfectly fine with me if you are boys. Go ahead, get dirty, run around like heathens, do what you need to do to be boys.

I promise to bring the fun as often as possible. I expect you to behave, not be boring.

I promise to tell you the truth. About sex, drugs, rock n roll, life, history, anything you ask me about. I may tell you something is none of your business, but I will never lie to you.

I promise to sneak you candy. It's your mom and dad's jobs to keep your sugar intake low. It's mine to see you get some candy. Good candy though, life is too short for cheap candy.

I promise to embarrass the hell out of you at your sporting events. I will wear colours and bring air horns. Sorry dudes, aunt's prerogative. 

I promise to grow fangs and claws if anybody messes with you. I will bring seven kinds of crazy.

I promise to tell you straight out if the girls you date are hussies. Your parents may need to be politically correct. I don't have to be.

I promise to pick you up if you call me. Two o'clock in the morning or two in the afternoon. If you're at the police station, though call your parents 'cause I'll kill ya. You call me BEFORE the cops get involved.

Love Aunt Jen. (or mean Aunt Jen as some of you may call me)

The Illusion of Separateness

I enjoy the Buddhist religion, I am not a Buddhist, but I appreciate them.
The Buddhists believe that we, the people of the earth, are not separate entities. That the idea that we are separate entities is a psychological constructs that causes suffering.
Some facets of theoretical physics support this idea. Since we are all made of the same stuff on a sub atomic level, we cannot therefore be separate.
These are ideas that I am very comfortable with. The idea that while I have skin that separates me from those around me, we are not really separate.
This idea comes with a certain amount of responsibility as far as I'm concerned, and I wonder if this is why people reject the idea.
If my behavior affects those around me, then I am responsible to behave in a way to minimize their discomfort. Now, in fairness, some people will tell you that EVERY THING people do makes them uncomfortable. I also feel it's the responsibility of the individual to look inside themselves and work out why they are uncomfortable and take a responsibility for their reactions.
It would be great, in my opinion if people took these theories to heart. I think people would be more responsible.
If people really internalized the idea that their behavior affected others on a visceral, emotional level would they be more thoughtful in their actions? I would hope so.
Would you steal from someone if you understood the feeling of violation that followed that? Really understood it? What if you had to live with that feeling as a consequence?
Would you cut people off in traffic if you had to feel the frustration that behavior produces?
Would the internal drivers that produce the urge to drink to excess, use illicit drugs, over eat, and otherwise self abuse be as strong if people understood the worry, pain, anguish and grief these things cause in those that love them? I would hope not.
I admit to being confused as to why people don't get this.
I'm very well aware that if I decide to go out and pick a fist fight and get my ass handed to me and end up in the hospital that affects my family. It affects everyone who knows me.
Have you ever gotten a call that a friend has been the victim of violence? What did that call do to your insides? Did you sleep well that night? Were you able to focus on the next day?
I cannot do those things. I'm up all night and blurry the next day.
Maybe I'm just a worrier.
I have three cousins who are police officers. Every time I see a cruiser fly by me with lights flashing I worry about the three of them. Even though they are fully functional grown men with years of experience, I get a very clear picture of what would happen to my family if they were injured or god forbid, killed.
I feel the anguish of my best friend whose oldest child has a feeding disorder and doesn't eat.
I feel, on a visceral level my sister's frustration over her career.
I feel my brother's joy at the prospect of a new son.
They feel my grief at the loss of my nephew. They feel it. Maybe not as strong as my own, but it's there. It affects them.
So since what I feel affects them, and what they feel affects me, why then would I ever go out and put myself at risk? I'm also putting them at risk, since we are not separate.
What would the world be like if everybody was Buddhist? Or at least used this philosophy as a guide post for actions? Maybe there wouldn't be war. Could you kill a man if you had to feel his mother's grief?
Would there be rape?
Would there be the victimization of the poor?
Hell, would people be more inclined to smile more?

Anthony 's Cafe

Not long ago I did a post about customer service. I said it was a rare thing and I stand by that. When I listed places that provide it, however, I missed one spot. I kind of feel like a jerk about it, but hey. I'm fixing it now.
Maybe I missed Anthony's due to some subconscious need to set it apart from the other spots I've mentioned, it's pretty special to me.
I've known Kim and John the owner/operators of Anthony's for nearly 10 years. They know food. They know good food. They serve great food from scratch. This is food I've never worried would trip my food sensitivity switch and give me a migraine. Food I can count on.
Food I can count on is a special thing.
Anthony's is a special spot.
But I, admittedly am biased.
Anthony's was named after John and Kim's great nephew. Anthony died Jan 2011. He was 11.
I had known Anthony since he was about 4. He was born with Cerbral Palsey and spent his life in a wheelchair. He did not walk, he did not talk, he did not feed himself.
What he did do was affect the lives of those around him in profound ways. Ways that go all the way to the bone.
He was always excited to see me. He would yell and flail his little arms until I came over to his chair and gave him a kiss. Sometimes he would yell and stick his tongue out until I licked his face. Don't ask, it was an Anthony and Aunt Jen thing.
He thought it was an absolute riot when I showed up in a bathing suit one day to help his mother shower him. He laughed so long and so hard he ended up with shower water in his mouth.
His brother was his best friend. They would curl up together in his big bed and watch movies for hours.     He loved the Flintstones.
The day he died was the worst day of my life. The rest of that week wasn't any hell either.
But as with any horrible rotten no good very bad thing, we can learn lessons if we choose to. I learned what shapes family can take. I learned that I'm stronger than I ever thought I was, because I can still get up and get dressed and function if my heart is shredded. I leaned some things matter but many more do not. Not really.
I've learned that the grief and confusion of a child who lost his best friend is the most horrible thing on earth.

I'm not sure how I started writing about good food and ended up writing about a little boy who was lost too early except to say they're tied together for me. Kim and John named their cafe Anthony's to honour the memory of a little guy whom they loved and love still. They pour that same attention into feeding people. If you go to Anthony's, and I think you should, get the hamburger. And say hello to Anthony.

on the porch with Keitha

My grandmother's name is Keitha.
She is 100 years old this year. We're having a party for that, naturally. How many people turn 100? How many can remember the years  of their lives?
Keitha can.
Me: nanny, do you remember the depression?
Nanny: yup, it wasn't good, I'll tell you that. We did ok because my father had animals and a farm. We had a neighbour who got lost for 5 days.
Me: How did you find him?
Nanny: I don't know the dog and the horse found him.

My nanny has a way of telling stories like nobody I've ever known. She will start one story and it turns into another. She also has a quick wit about her. Even at 100.

Nanny: Jenny (she's the only one who gets away with that, so don't bother starting) you're not married
Me: I know nanny
Nanny: we need to fix that and get you a husband
Me: Well, gee nanny, that would be swell. Where do you think we'll find one of those?
Nanny: We'll go for a drive and see if we can find one in the ditch
Me: Well Nanny. I don't know if I want a ditch husband, I think I'd like me one of those centre of the road husbands.
Nanny: Oh, honey, I think they're all gone by this time.

Nanny had 11 children. 13 pregnancies. When you never weigh more that 100lbs in a wet wool sweater that's alot of babies.
Hell, that's alot of babies for anybody.
Today we're sitting on the porch watching the cars. Nanny is enjoying the sun and the breeze. Maybe that's the secret to a long life. Just enjoying the sun and the breeze. In the moment.
I know I have a hell of a time staying in the moment. My brain won't shut up. I'm conjecturing, extrapolating, planning, plotting, remembering and worrying.

I don't know if Nanny wants a party. She told me last year she'd croak to get out of one. I sure hope she doesn't. It promises to be a blast.

Life would be a little less interesting without Nanny. She likes miso soup. She misses our old dog too.
She'll crook the "crooked finger of doom" at you if you're not careful and behave. The crooked finger of doom will bring a grown man to his knees so she can pull his ears. I've seen it.

She offered to put on her big boots and go talk to my boss about getting me a raise. My money is on her against Corporate Canada. No, really.

Nanny is spooky sometimes too. She'll tell you she dreamt about a person and within the day...sometimes two that person will call or drop in. Every damned time.

She gives me her pearls of wisdom every now and then.

"Jenny (don't start) a good man doesn't have to tell you how good he is. You just know. If he has to tell you, he probably isn't"
"Jenny, a loud man isn't a scary man. It's the quiet ones you have to watch"
"Never ride a horse you haven't looked in the face. They need to know you or they might throw you"

Nanny tells me lots of the lessons she's learnt. This is valuable stuff.
I get to learn them because Nanny has been in my life all my life. I stayed with her when I was a child and a teen and then she moved in with us when she was 90.

I worry sometimes about all those people in retirement homes. What kind of wisdom do they have that we are missing out on? What stories and experiences and pearls of wisdom?
I think we are poorer for it.
Thankfully I am fairly rich in this.