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sisterly love

In many ways, my sister and I are the same. We are strong. We are funny. We are smart. We are mature... sort of. Despite these similarities, or perhaps in spite of them, we are close while being apart in a way that I think only sisters can be. 

While we grew up together, our age and character differences were such that we grew apart. Our paths were superficially similar but, ultimately, quite divergent mainly because we've never seen the same things the same way. When I open the box, Schrodinger's cat is thin and black and alive. When she lifts the box, the cat is... wait, who the hell is Schrodinger and why has he left his poor hungry, cat in a radioactive box with acid!? 
 
We've also faced different challenges. From my perspective, her path was more hilly than mine. Nonetheless, we've emerged in similar places and spaces. I appreciate that her strength of character and determination and generosity and kindness got her to where she is now. And I'm proud of her.
 
Today, on her birthday, I'm thinking of her. Somehow, I remember her childhood birthday parties more than my own. I won't be there for this year's party in person, but I'll be there in spirit. Unfortunately, spirits can't eat yummy birthday food. But they can't get hives either (which made one of her birthdays particularly memorable, in a very itchy way). In any case, I'm sure that Houston will take care of all her light house cleaning, including any omit oil that may be spilled.

Happy birthday, Kathryn! xox 
 

Filed under  //   family & friends  

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bivalves and the beach

Last weekend, we planned a trip up to Point Reyes for oysters. Well, not so much planned as discussed the idea over drinks on Thursday night with the conversation ending affirmatively. On Friday, a Google calendar event was created with start and end times on Sunday. On Sunday morning, half an hour before the proposed start time, we texted our friend, who had assumed the status of event organizers because: a) he had been to eat oysters in Point Reyes before and we all considered him an expert on the subject, b) he had a Zipcar membership and had volunteered to drive, and c) he had set up the calendar event, to confirm. He was running late, but we were good to go. At this point, all I knew was our day would involve oysters and a beach.

Just before noon, we all pilled into the swanky Zipcar. "All" consisted of five people and a small dog. We bough snacks (first things first) at Trader Joe's before navigating (i.e., Google mapping) our way to the Golden Gate and through Marin County. Some motion sickness ensued, but was tempered by ginger chews and playing the front-seat-of-the-car version of musical chairs at the stops that were required to locate ourselves when we lost cell coverage.

Oysters were procured. A spot on the beach was claimed. The spot was adjacent to a group of people listening to Van Morrison followed by Tom Petty. Their conversation was at once asinine and entertaining (e.g., "Imagine if Tom Petty cruised by on a boat playing this song. Wouldn't you just have to run down to the water's edge and dance? You'd just have to. How cool would that be?"). 

We ate oysters. Kevin and I learned how to shuck (a skill which I'm contemplating adding to my resume). Amidst the perceived lack of planning, the event organizer had brought a charcoal grill and all the ingredients for a yummy horseradish sauce. Soda cans served as wine glasses. A lid to a container was a cutting board for shallots (which were added to some of the larger oysters, along with some thyme and wine, before putting them on the grill just long enough to cook ever so slightly). We ate more oysters. We lounged in the late-day sun before packing up and heading home, back over the Golden Gate with the last remnants of sunlight highlighting the horizon. A great day.

The necessary postscript to this story is that if you told me ten years ago that I'd get excited and derive enjoyment from eating loads of oysters in one sitting, I would've call you crazy. Everything about oysters made me cringe: the mucousy texture, the fact that they're consumed raw and alive, the risk of food poisoning. But, I've gotten past the texture issue by sticking to the smaller ones (the really big ones are still gag-inducing to some extent) and I've gotten to a point where I'm not willing to sacrifice amazing eats for a fear of food poisoning. Some risks are worth it, especially those with relatively low probabilities. Admittedly, the alive factor was the last hurdle. I got past that by not thinking too much about it (which is exactly how most people are able to stomach eating meat, right?) until I read this really interesting article in the New York Times. Now, I can think about it without it affecting my appetite. The sustainability argument is an added bonus. In any case, I'm doubtful that any vegans will be jumping on the oyster bandwagon anytime soon. If they do, oysters might be the gateway substance of the meat and animal products realm. It's a slippery slope.

         
Click here to download:
bivalves_and_the_beach.zip (2228 KB)

Filed under  //   family & friends   food   San Francisco   sustainability  

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the techvolution continues

Preface
Hyphenated celebrated it's one year anniversary last Sunday without much fanfare or, unfortunately, cake. I suppose that the Go Daddy automatic renewal email for my domain could be considered an e-card, albeit a really lame one. In any case, the least I can do to mark the date is dedicate a blog post to the milestone. It's belated, partly because I was hosting a third (and final, for now) consecutive set of visitors and spent Sunday touring Alcatraz, but here it is.

♻♻♻
 Just over a year ago, my first post listed some of the reasons I started a blog. All of the reasons still apply a year later, especially the one related to keeping in touch with family. Still no sign of my parents on Facebook or Twitter. Knowing that my grandmother will read this makes me smile. I also still envision the blog as a creative outlet. I try to write posts that are extensions of my thoughts and voice, and I resist the urge to use Posterous as a simple way to share photos and online content without any value added beyond the title. The goal of keeping it interesting remains important too. 

In addition to the reasons for starting the blog are the reasons to continue blogging. The great feeling that comes from a friend saying that they're reading and enjoying my blog and enjoying it is one. While many don't post comments, I get direct personal feedback that means a lot to me. Storytelling is another unforeseen aspect of blogging that appeals to me. So many of the posts that resonate, with me and my audience, include stories. Whether they be from my childhood or last weekend, I really enjoy telling stories and the blog is a great way to share them.

Looking back, the blog was my initial independent foray into unknown online territory. Given the developments of the last year and living in what seems to be the center of the technology universe, I haven't stopped exploring. When friends come to visit me in San Francisco, I show them around the city and I give them a tour of my iPhone apps. I usually end up talking a lot about FourSquare tips and trending locations. The techvolution continues.
♻♻♻

Postscript
Seeing as it's April 22nd, a blog post isn't complete without some Earth Day content:

Filed under  //   family & friends   science & technology   sustainability  

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mmmaple syrup

My morning routine has changed quite drastically since moving to San Francisco. The change has less to do with being unemployed (a combination of volunteer/intern work and personal projects provides motivation to get up at a reasonable hour) and more to do with having an iPhone. 

Previously, I would wake up to the sound of CBC radio 1 emanating from my circa-1992 radio alarm clock and I'd lay in bed for awhile listening to the day's top stories and the weather (and get annoyed by Rick Cluff's tendency to trivialize and patronize). Now, I roll over, take my iPhone off the nightstand (the radio alarm clock was deemed obsolete) and check my email, scan Twitter and Facebook, peruse the NYT headlines, and check the weather... in four cities: San Francisco, Vancouver, and Montreal. 

Despite being severely lacking in detail and featuring obscure icons (what exactly should I expect when presented with an icon of the sun from which rain is failing without any clouds in the picture?), the weather app for the iPhone allows me to get a sense of what the weather is like in the places I feel connected to. 

Most days, the comparison brings a smile to my face because the weather in SF tops that in the other cities (I've been warned that this will change come summer) but other days, like today, the weather also brings back memories as I conjure up past experiences that I associate with the time of year depicted by the forecast.

Along with remembering soggy walks to work in Vancouver, I thought about maple syrup this morning. Today's forecast in Montreal is perfect for sugaring off (which takes place in the rural areas around Montreal, including my hometown, Hemmingford). Warm days combined with nights where the mercury drops below freezing gets the sweet sap running. 

My parents tapped some of the maple trees around our house for a few years, getting enough sap to distill down to a decent amount of syrup. I remember tramping around the woods, stomping in the patches of remaining snow, peeking into the pails to see if any sap had accumulated, and occasionally taking sips to taste the slightly sweet liquid that dripped so slowly from the trees. John had built an outdoor oven of sorts with a trough on the top for making syrup. We'd pour the sap into the trough and it would boil down to leave the delicious auburn syrup. We'd all sit around the oven, soaking in the spring sun (believe me, 8°C feels downright balmy after a few months temperatures averaging between -10 and -25°C) and keeping the fire burning. I can only imagine that I might have asked "is it ready yet?" enough to be considered annoying.

After a few years, perhaps after the novelty had warn off, my family stopped making our own maple syrup. Instead, we would help friends with their much larger, commercial syrup operation in exchange for cans of the dark, thick, smoky syrup that isn't considered high quality by supermarket shoppers. The dark stuff might not look so pretty, but it's very tasty.

We kids would help to some extent, handing empty cans from the box to the person operating the canning machine or dragging wood inside to fuel the boiler, but we largely played in the heat of the shanty. Play powered by massive sugar highs because doing quality control (i.e., drinking maple syrup straight up) was another way that the children helped.

This morning, I added some maple syrup to sweeten and flavor my yogurt and granola. The syrup was produced at the shanty where I used to 'help' and was given to us as a wedding gift by the friends who make it. Knowing where it came from and the simple, organic way it is produced, this maple syrup is especially tasty. 

Now, I'm going to take advantage of the beautiful weather (and being unemployed) by going for a walk this afternoon.

Filed under  //   family & friends   food   Quebec & Montreal   San Francisco   Vancouver  

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year in review

The start of a new year inevitably prompts me to assess the year that just ended and ponder what the year ahead holds. In my case, on January 1st of last year, I didn't predict the events that transpired in 2009. If asked then where I'd be one year later, I would've responded "Vancouver". If you told me that I'd be married, I would've called you crazy.

Actually, I assumed that 2009 would be a replication, with some small, inevitable mutations, of 2008. Analogous to evolution in a relatively stable environment. But, as you probably know if you've been following hyphenated, the environment in 2009 was unpredictably stochastic. 

Stochasticity is not a friend of mine. Nonetheless, I survived the ups and downs and the instability and the unknown. Despite poor forecasting, the outcome has been positive. I feel stronger for having ridden the wave that was 2009. This strength helps me to look at the blank 2010 calendar without panicking (too much). There are a few dates with pencil-marks, but the bulk of the year remains uncharted and unplanned. 

I'd be lying if I said that I loved the predicted stochasticity, but I can acknowledge it, take a deep breath, and trust that most of the bridges that need to be crossed will appear on the horizon in due time. And if the bridges aren't there, we'll build them or find an alternate route.

Where will I be this time next year? I honestly can't say for sure. It could be Vancouver. And, despite the risk of mimicking Oprah, I do know one thing for sure: I'll be married. 

Filed under  //   family & friends   San Francisco   Vancouver  

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thanks, again

In October, I celebrated Thanksgiving in Montreal. With turkey and all the fixings, I reflected on all I had to be thankful for. At that point in time, my mind was mainly focused on the upcoming move and I was mainly grateful that the long-distance had come to an end. I also appreciated the fall colours, the warmth of the fire, and (last but not least) my wonderful family and friends.

This past Saturday, I celebrated Thanksgiving in San Francisco. While turkey and family were implicated (I was following Elaine's turkey instructions and I was flustered when the bird looked done about 3 hours before our guests were set to arrive - a call home resulted in some motherly advice and everything turned out fine), fall foliage and warm fires were not. Given that current ambient temperatures are such that many flowering trees are still in bloom, it didn't feel like time for the harvest. Of course, the pilgrims didn't take San Francisco's climate into account.

As I've explained countless times to Americans over the last month, Canada's Thanksgiving occurs earlier precisely because the harvest occurs sooner further north. Goes to show that there was a time when Canadian politicians didn't make decisions simply by looking to the south and copying (unlike Harper's recent change of heart regarding his decision to attend Copenhagen).

In any case, despite the lack of snow and shivers, Christmas is right around the corner. The holiday decorations and eggnog at the grocery store will have to serve as reminders, since looking out the window does not conjure up visions of sugar-plums.

Filed under  //   family & friends   San Francisco  

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savoring fall

autumnal [\ȯ-ˈtəm-nəl\adj

  1. of, occurring in, or characteristic of autumn
  2. characteristic of late maturity verging on decline
❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧

The sun lays low in the sky and dips below the horizon earlier every day while flora and fauna brace themselves for the first hard frost of the season. Scarves emerge from closest and sandals reluctantly take their place in the darkness. Heavy humidity evaporates and the air alternates between damp and crisp, depending on whether the sky is an endless expanse of glorious blue or a low ceiling of matte, sombre grey. Summer has graciously retired and fall has arrived to advise that winter is en route to aggressively take its place.

In this corner of the world, fall is accompanied by birds noisily announcing their synchronized migration, fields producing the last gifts of the harvest, and trees making bold, fiery statements before going bald. Crimson, copper, gold, and amber leaves tremble and waver in the wind and, when they lose their grip, gracefully float to the ground.

Crunching through leaves along the forest path. The welcome warmth of the sun streaming between branches is subdued and easily stolen by the breeze. Sweet scents of decay rise from the ground along with memories of childhood screeches and giggles from when the chore of raking morphed into a game of diving into a crispy yet soft pile of browning leaves.

Giving thanks for the comforts of home. Heat radiating from the fire. Laughs and stories shared with family and friends. Pumpkin pie and fresh apples. 

     
Click here to download:
savoring_fall.zip (232 KB)

Filed under  //   Canada   family & friends   food   Quebec & Montreal  

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when chicken is an institution

As many readers of this blog know, I'm not a big meat eater. When I do eat meat, I tend towards organic/small farm options. However, there are rare exceptions. One of those exceptions is barbecued chicken. And not any barbecued chicken, only Châlet Bar-B-Q rotisserie chicken.

Like most cities, Montreal has its specialities when it comes to food, namely bagels, smoked meat, and rotisserie chicken. I never really got on the smoked meat bandwagon (I like it, but there's something fundamentally wrong with a sandwich that contains more meat than bread, in my opinion), but I'm all over the bagels and the rotisserie chicken. 

Rotisserie chicken is the only of the aforementioned specialities that is quebecois to the core, as the other two have Jewish roots (Montreal is the home to the second largest Jewish community outside of Israel, after NYC). The argument could be made that my fondness for rotisserie chicken is in my blood, as my surname would have been Beauchamp-Berthelet if our society was matriarchal rather than patriarchal. 

The ubiquity of rotisserie chicken in Quebec is epitomized by la sauce. When someone says la sauce in Quebec, they are most likely referring to this sauce, which was developed by les frères Berthelet (the brothers happen to be my great uncles, but I've never met them - I'm not on the gravy train).

When it comes to rotisserie chicken, Châlet Bar-B-Q in NDG is an institution. Recently voted the best rotisserie chicken in Montreal, Châlet Bar-B-Q doesn't seem to have changed much since it opened over sixty years ago. The decor is classic, with wood panelling on the walls, dim lighting, booths, and waitresses in outdated uniforms. And the chicken, served with fries, gravy, and a toasted bun, is unbeatable. Kevin and I went for lunch earlier this week and were not disappointed. If you're visiting Montreal, be sure to add Châlet Bar-B-Q, along with Schwartz's and St-Viateur, to your list of places to visit.


Photo owned by alanah.montreal (cc)

Filed under  //   family & friends   food   Quebec & Montreal  

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mutant sock puppets

Last month, we were at a friend's wedding. After the ceremony and before the reception, the bride's brother hosted a casual garden party. Sitting around in the yard and chatting with friends from school, the topic of toe socks somehow came up. 

My friend Jonn happened to be wearing a pair and began signing their praises. He listed all the reasons why toe socks were better than regular socks. And then he took off his shoe to show us how free his toes were able to move independently of one another. We all cringed. There's something about toe socks that is fundamentally... uncomfortable.

I don't mind seeing bare feet, but socks that enable each toe to wiggle on its own make me wrinkle my nose. Thankfully, socked feet are largely contained within shoes so I can largely ignore the existence of toe socks. Also, I sense that I'm not alone in my views regarding toe socks so I don't think I need to worry about conventional socks being completely replaced by toe socks. And, as a result, cute sock puppets need not worry about becoming scary-looking mutants.

Once Jonn revealed his freely wiggling socked toes, Kevin brought up the emergence of Five Fingers, a new line of shoes by Vibram that transfer the principle behind toe socks to the realm of footwear. More cringing.

Kevin has been interested in Five Fingers since he was made aware of their existence and, since then, I've been staunchly against them. I have even threatened not to be seen in public with him if he decided to buy a pair and wear them on the street. Unlike toe socks, toe shoes cannot be ignored - one cannot wear Five Fingers discretely or secretly. They're right out there.

In my mind, Five Fingers make the Birkenstock-sock combo fashionable (assuming that the socks are conventional socks and not toe socks). Even if Five Fingers are superior to normal shoes from an orthopaedic perspective, any benefits are overshadowed by their absolute hideousness. I know that my repulsion to toe socks and Five Fingers is completely irrational. My sense of aesthetic rarely trumps practical considerations, but my aversion to feet in gloves is an instance where aesthetics take precedence. 

Filed under  //   family & friends   science & technology  

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carpe diem

Summer is coming to an end. I can hardly believe that September is right around the corner, bringing with it the inevitable rain and grey that define winter in Vancouver. I'm interested to discover what winter holds further south on the Pacific coast, but I'm not ready to see the end of another fabulous Vancouver summer. So, after a productive morning of shopping (found a dress to wear to my friend's wedding next weekend and it was on sale - bonus!) and catching up with family on the phone, I called Andrew to see if he was up for a game of pitch and putt, which he was. 

Having spent the afternoon catching up with Andrew while clubbing a ball around the fringes of Stanley Park, I'm coming to terms with how much I'm going to miss this city. To think that I live 20 minutes (walking) from the downtown core, yet can walk 10 minutes in the opposite direction to play a round of golf amongst the resident geese while the afternoon fades into evening and the crimson sun sets over the ocean ... I don't think you can get that anywhere else. 

While there are elements of Vancouver that I don't appreciate, the five years that I've spent here have been filled with great afternoons just like this one because the city is developed such that one can conveniently enjoy the beauty of the environment in which it's situated. No escape plans necessary. While it becomes easy to take it for granted, with the summer winding down and the move to San Francisco looming, this afternoon was fully appreciated.

Filed under  //   family & friends   Vancouver  

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