The Yellow Canisters

It’s late evening we have finished watching Charlie Brown and I am not ready to crawl in for the evening. I splurged today, I was feeling a tad down and my bff took me out for a bit. She is always so tolerant of the things that I cannot do at times, I am so grateful for her.

Into our favourite store we wander touching each of the items, oohing and ahhing over the items we feel are sometimes dreams.

How we love to see the changing seasons and the goodies it brings to the store. The best part is the laughs along the car ride, the rocking out to the music and the comments we come up with while looking at the items, yup we are pretty funny together. Plus if I close my eyes and am out, she never minds.

As we wander up and down the aisles embracing all the colours, I stop as something catches my eye. They were beautiful; the colour of sunshine, the feel of warmth. There sitting on the top shelf are three yellow canisters with a small rooster on top.

I am in love. I look at them, touch them and decide I need to refresh the home with a few great pieces that make me smile; add the colour of energy and growth.

They remind me of the bright yellow coloured roses that use to grow at our old house in town and then we moved to the farm; they were from a family friend’s grandfather that passed so long ago.

They are still growing and blooming; somewhere along the way with the change of the soil and the change of the years they are still the magnificent yellow roses they once were; I can still smell them when I close my eyes.

I ponder on this thought and memories as I so carefully unwrap them with my butter fingers, wash them and let them air dry. They will become my evening event and I am giddy with excitement. I know you are thinking seriously lady, nothing better to do?

To me, the solitude of turning on an old radio style station and listening to the 40’s and 50’s music while I pull everything from that area in my kitchen, clean and reorganize are things I consider fun, not work.

It’s the time I can spend on the organization in my own state or style of meditation and work through some of the things that have been bothering me; feelings of eventually being a burden on my family and the constant inner challenges I have of trying to keep myself strong and moving forward.

As I complete each task I am delighted and continue my puttering project, singing in my raspy high pitch squirrel voice that I have; I’m just saying I could have been Alvin.

My kitchen has been beautified, reorganized, polished and gleams. It adds such an electric charge to me and I start to find a passion that comes and goes. It’s soulful, I start researching recipes and decide to create a baked cheese dish for lunch the next day. Off to my trusty Internet for recipes and variations I settle on one and add the items to my ever growing grocery list.

I leave my notes for Mr. Jones on my chalkboards for the morning and call it an evening feeling satisfied. (My good morning, and I will put a picture of the other down below).

As always on a beautiful Saturday morning my alarm is going off, that would be my daughter texting me at 6 am as she is already at work and a dog giving me a kiss to say get up, I want out until I get out of bed and then she snuggles back in.

Mr. Jones will be heading out for the groceries and asks if I will be joining him and I decide I certainly will. He is delighted as we are just starting to leave the pup for an hour or two here and there. She is always with me to settle the PTSD but today, Mr. Jones will be holding my hand and taking her place.

After a morning adventure of a thorough fridge cleaning we are ready. The store is still quiet and it allows me the time to pick out the right cheese and ingredients for my weekend of cooking. I feel fantastic, yes I am tired, but I feel alive today.

Homeward bound I cannot wait and start mixing my concoction with my evil witch laugh. Seriously, my whole family cackles, it’s actually awesome I think. It also makes people really look at us wondering who the wicked witch is? My hand sneaks up in the air.

My bowl is pulled and I start adding: 1 cup of mayo, 1 package of cream cheese, purple onion and please there is never too much onion so load it up, some spice, garlic (it goes with everything like black shoes) and jalapeño havarti cheese (drool).

Mix it up, one recipe says to melt it all together I’m like nope, into my tiny little pot to bake. I cooked it for 20 minutes, then took the lid off and cooked for another 20 minutes. Pull from the 350 degree oven, top with the asiago cheese and grab your ciabatta loaf as this is going to be a slice of heaven.

The dog was watching to make sure things went well, what a helper. With a nose that smells 40000 times better I believe, that must have been awesome.

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I could not believe it, it tasted like the Kegs  stuffed mushrooms, Mr. Jones and the pup were so impressed and I feel very content.

Recently I was having a discussion with someone who mentioned while travelling they may have eaten and drank too much and now need a diet.

I asked if they would like a piece of life advice that I believe in: before the MS I was quite a bit smaller, more frail and bony, now I have a little extra, I’m okay with that.  I know at one point in my life I will be super skinny again and that is when my body is aging and the weight will come right off. (I’m identical to my grandmother so am seeing myself in her). In the meantime I think that we should enjoy life, the wine, the meals and maybe have a few extra pounds, it could help us in the end. So please pass the cheese dip and more rolls.

“Sometimes we find our soulfulness from the words of a recipe or in the bottom of a dish.” Spook

I wish you a wonderful weekend and hope you find your soul recipe. Next up I am looking at beet recipes; it’s the Russian ancestry in me.

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Love always the pudgy, cheese it up, wicked witch, The Woman in Process

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