Today's post is my homage to a cheese, a very special selection I discovered a couple of days ago called brin d'amour, translated by some as "a wisp of love" and also sometimes called fleur de maquis. Well, never mind how you say it, to eat it is a divine experience. I found it at a trendy new grocery store, a world of wonders purportedly organic, or somewhat natural. I toured the aisles determined not to buy more than would comfortably fit in my handbasket, but rapidly noting what I would come back for next time I've got lots of money. Back in the corner was an alcove labelled Cheese Aging Room, fronted by a salesperson ready to seduce me with samples of semi-soft cheese. Here I met the one, a Corsican ewe's milk cheese that makes all other spreadable cheeses just forgettable. This discovery has reminded me how cheese responds to respectful handling: eat it at cool room temperature, accompany it with a worthy bread or cracker (in my case an excellent sourdough loaf), and savour it slowly with a silent thanks to both the sheep and the farmer who made it possible.

Posted by lynda at 01:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

This week's theme has been moderate chaos, in a subtle, middle-class way. Our kitchen renovation finally got started -- the physical part done by others, that is. I swore I wouldn't bore people with my renovation story, but I have now decided there is much to learn from such experiences.

Lesson 1: Communication is key. All the usual rules of communication apply, including the one about what is lost when a message is transferred in a mediated situation. Example: the plumber is coming Tuesday means the plasterer is coming Thursday and he actually will do what the plumber was supposed to do because there really is no plumber. Luckily, the plasterer turns out to be a pretty good plumber.

Lesson 2: Timing is key. Everything happens in its own time, though that time may not be evident to those who would like to know. Electricians may arrive full of enthusiasm, but they may not actually electrify anything until the higher powers deem it possible, namely the hydro gods and their cohorts, the inspectors. Power, it seems, is sometimes invisible.

Lesson 3: Relax. It's only a kitchen. Being without a functioning kitchen for a few days leads me to muse upon those who have no running water nearby, no safe drinking water in fact, and to think about how that changes one's life. How it becomes large in the day, larger than earning a living or tending a rose garden. That is the most important lesson.

Posted by lynda at 11:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Where I am it's a gloriously sunny Friday, with daffodils blooming outside my window and lots of interesting work to do inside. I just took delivery of a lovely spring blazer I ordered online to use up a gift certificate given to me for participation in a phone survey. I am so lucky. Many people in a once-beautiful country I loved (even on short acquaintance) are not so lucky. Today's reality check is in a Zimbabwe blog written by people who sound like you and me in horrifying circumstances. Given the danger of doing such a thing in their country, all of their posts are anonymous. The group describes itself as a non-violent people's movement dedicated to restoring democracy. I'll be following this story and I sincerely wish them luck.

Posted by lynda at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Found something this morning that delights me: The Huffington Post. It's a blog (mostly) that according to one of its writers aims to unite the blogosphere and Hollywood, but its posters seem to be drawn from a wider pool than that. Aforesaid blogosphere has been pretty incestuous, with so many geeks just arguing with and massaging each other online, so it's refreshing to see the likes of Rob Reiner, Dean Ornish and Danielle Crittenden posting in one place. Lots of US politics, of course. I enjoyed Larry Gelbart's quip: "Being born again doesn't mean you get it right the second time."

Posted by lynda at 08:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Today is my officially and personally declared Fresh Start day, when I look forward with delight to whatever comes next. My year plus of redefining myself as a cancer survivor is now over. From now on, survival is just the baseline; every day is a glorious new offering at the open buffet and I'm going to dig in with glee, yes, even to stuff that looks like work.

On the subject of starting fresh, I was interested to find this article about what happened at Samsung ten years ago when its leader decided to make a drastic improvement in product quality. He began with a version of ritual purification, an ancient tradition in Korea, in which about $50 million worth of existing inventory was smashed and burned. Hmmm. There must be clutter in my office that would make a good bonfire.

Posted by lynda at 03:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)