I don’t think we really had any Christmas traditions growing up.
There were those Christmases at my grandma’s when I was little; joyous and precious moments that has forever shaped what Christmas means to me. I do consider those tradition.

Last weekend when we were putting up the Christmas decorations, I realized that it’s become somewhat of a tradition – somewhere along the way I’d picked up some traditions of my own.
The tree usually goes up on the first weekend in December; we brought the boxes of decorations up from storage over the weekend.

The fun is in getting everyone to corporate, deciding what goes where, and the memories that comes with a few special ornaments.
And I, I’m always on hand with snacks; I made Italian wedding cookies, the unofficial cookie of Christmas – I’m not sure why they’re called wedding cookies.
I’m in charge of music too, I love Christmas songs, especially the hymns I used to sing when I was a child.
I had Enya’s ‘And Winter Came’ album playing and every time ‘O Come O Come Emmanuel’ came on, we sang along reminiscently.
It’s one of my very favourite Christmas songs
And as the wonderful smell of cookies filled our tiny space, with soothing music playing in the background as we hung ornaments on the old tree I knew that this was a tradition I hoped to keep.

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I love Christmas! This is my favourite time of the year.
I used to send out Christmas cards every year, and then two years ago I stopped.
I miss sending out cards, my dad used to order cards from UNICEF and we’d stay up all night addressing them.
This year I’ve decided to bring the tradition back; I’m sending out a card to anyone who wants one.
I’ve seen a few people do this on their blogs, and thought it was a brilliant idea.
Just fill out the form below with your mailing address (I promise to guard it with my life!) and just sit back, wait a few days, check your mailbox… and viola… a Christmas card with a special note!
It’s okay if you don’t celebrate Christmas; just tell me what holiday you celebrate.

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RIP Andy
Cancer is the worst!

©2012 the whinery 2.0. All Rights Reserved.

My heart sank a little this morning when I saw a woman wearing a cardigan over her dress.
It was barely a month ago when summer begun around here, so I’m a little reluctant to accept its inevitable end.
I told someone recently of a certain sense of spontaneity that takes us over during the warmer season.
I feel we’re happier and perhaps kinder to each other…
I call it the happy season.

Like the day I wore this dress, I met an older couple while waiting in line at the coffee shop, they thought I looked like their daughter who’d moved away to Montreal.
I was intrigued because I rarely get that, the man showed me a cell phone picture of the daughter and all I saw was a girl with sad eyes who had a dress like mine on.
I looked at the parents and realized that they probably miss their child, so I joined them for coffee.
I listened to them talk about this stranger; a daughter who made their eyes sparkle, whose antics made them laugh, and it made me laugh.
And though I believed I was doing this for them, it was a little for me too…
And that’s the wonder of summer.

Outfit Details: Dress – Cheap Monday | Shirt – The Gap | Shoes – Fluevog | Bag – Massimo Dutti

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This evening my mom said she can feel summer slipping away, she feels it in her bones, and there’s a bit of a chill in the air at night.
I feel we should probably make the most of the remaining nice days left, and hope still for a spectacular autumn.
I read something brilliant yesterday; “The days are long, but the years are short”, which is essentially how I feel about the passing of time; it’s a quote by happiness expert Gretchen Rubin and it speaks to me.
The take away here is to engage less in those activities that make the days seem long, and I’m trying…

©2012 the whinery 2.0. All Rights Reserved.

A silly thing happened to me this past weekend; a tiny wood splinter got stuck in my hand and as much as I tried, I couldn’t get it out.
Wedged under my skin, it so tiny you could barely see it. I picked at it with tweezers for hours, but it only made the skin around it sore.
It’s remarkable how a tiny speck can make one so miserable – I imagined life with a splinter permanently embedded in my hand, and the possibility of losing my hand from infection.
Drama aside, the internet can be dangerous enabler when you’re desperate, I almost hacked off my fingers with an X-Acto knife.
Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, I didn’t get to play doctor with a sharp knife.
I went to the urgent care centre first thing the next morning, where a nice doctor after a shot of local anaesthesia, broke the skin open and got the splinter out.

So how did I manage to get a sharp piece of wood stuck inside my palm?
The bloody train tracks! That’s how.

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I’ve heard a lot of sad news lately; of people passing away… loved ones, people I’ve known and strangers I wish I’d known.
Last month, my uncle N. passed away after several years of illness.
It was hard on my mom; he was her first cousin, but older and more like an uncle whom she adored dearly.
I didn’t know my uncle N. very well; I only met him a few times but I remember him fondly.
My uncle loved tradition; he was an oral historian who told incredible stories of ancestors I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
His narratives were always riveting with mythical elements.
I loved the stories because it was a connection to exploring my lineage.

I wore black the day after we got the news.
It’s tradition.
It was a sunny spring day, and all around me were nature’s colours; greens and pinks, and whites and blues…
But I wore black… in reverence to my uncle… because it’s tradition.

Outfit Details: Dress – Benetton | Boots – Feet First | Sunglasses – Joe Fresh

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I want to try optimism this month.
It was suggested that I start each day by pulling back the curtains, looking unto the skies and allowing a wave of gratitude to wash over me; gratitude for another day and the greatness it holds.
This morning I looked outside towards the skies and all I saw was gloom, rain and dark angry clouds.
The morning felt like an evening foreshadowing an ominous night.
I thought of a quote I’d seen recently, the writer describing his despair said he felt like he lived in the set of ‘The Killing’
This analogy felt accurate this morning, except I really do live on the set of ‘The Killing’
The US version is shot here! Vancouver plays Seattle on the show.
Here are a few shots that could complement the show…

I want to try optimism this month…
I heard someone play ‘Keep The Home Fires Burning’ last night, I hadn’t heard it in ages, but it’s stuck in my head – I hummed it all day
It’s one of those weird songs I learnt from my father, you probably don’t know this song, unless you were around during the First World War in Britain. Neither was my dad… but he was a war buff.
It was still stuck my head this morning when I pulled back the curtains, and at that moment this wartime song seemed fitting.
Especially the last lines, which I naturally changed;

Turn the dark clouds inside out
Till the sun comes out

And by noon, it looked as if the sun was trying to peek through.
It’s going to be a sunny day after all!
I want to try optimism this month…

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I don’t remember last year’s cherry blossoms, somehow I missed them; I was either too busy to notice them or perhaps I didn’t look around often enough.
I don’t have a single picture of cherry blossoms from last year, that just mystifies me.

This year though, I can’t seem to get enough it them, I’ve had to hold back from going overboard with the pictures.
When in bloom, cherry blossoms are like pink fluffy clouds, and they line sidewalks like a floral carpet – so enchanting!
Cherry blossoms, like spring is all about renewal, I would have loved to have attended some festivals, but walking around in my neighbourhood was festive enough.

The flowers bloom for a very short time, mirroring how fleeting time is.
On my walk home at the start of this week, I couldn’t help but notice the flowers disappearing already.

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I’m really winning with this breakfast stuff, aren’t I?
That’s because breakfast is my favourite meal, even when I don’t always have time for a proper breakfast every morning.

When we were kids my mom would cook a big breakfast on weekends.
This usually involved thick oatmeal with evaporated milk and omelette sandwiches or sardine sandwiches with tomatoes, onions and lettuce, or crepe-like pancakes and fruit salads, and the fanciest of all was a baked custard dish with cake.
We’d get the bread for our sandwiches early that morning from a bakery, whose owner was also a family friend.
We’d call the night before to request a special bread, and if the bakery was out of our special bread for whatever reason, we (usually my sister and I) would then go to a second bakery on Siaka Stevens Street, the bread wasn’t as good as Mila’s but it was far better than the one we usually got from the little kiosk down the street during the week.

Not everyone was a fan of my mom’s elaborate breakfasts; we were such picky eaters she usually had to force us to eat; I was afraid of sardines, my older brother hated eggs and anything with butter in it, my other brother didn’t like it when the bananas and oranges in his fruit salad touched; he’d throw tantrums when they did, and my sister just didn’t like eating, and my father throughout the meal would stare longingly at the clock.

This weekend as I prepared my own little feast I asked my mom about the production that was our Saturday mornings.
She said years before, when we lived in the middle of nowhere and could barely make ends meet, she promised herself that if we ever got out; her children would never go without breakfast again.
Thankfully, my Saturday morning breakfast rituals are a little less ambitious than my mom’s.
I think my aversion to elaborate breakfasts (especially ones I have to make) stems from that period of my life.

For oats and other grains, I usually let it cook overnight in a crock-pot, and I wake up to a quick healthy breakfast in the morning.
It’s even better when I have leftovers; I just heat it up in a bit of almond milk, add in a few slices of fresh strawberries and top with a healthy portion of peanuts for protein.

It’s a miracle!
I found strawberries in winter that didn’t cost a fortune – they look so good and taste pretty good too.

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