Erin's Journals

Part of the whole moving and settling in process that we’ve gone through for the past year now here in beautiful British Columbia has been finding a doctor (which seemed nearly impossible without a family referral, which we got) and a dentist. The dentist part was much easier, as I told you last fall when I was about to get on a plane to host two events in Toronto and managed to crack a front veneer. 
 
We lucked into a place that’s new, picturesque – right on a lake – and happens to be staffed entirely by women. Except for the guy in the lab upstairs, who’s engaged to one of the hygenists. Still, Rob’s not sure this is the place for him and that has nothing to do with who’s running it or their level of service (although we’re still greatly missing the wonderful dental staff at Uptowne Dental on Eglinton). Here’s what his problem is: where to spit.
 
Although I was in the chair at least twice before he was, it didn’t even occur to me that this sparkling new office didn’t have a sink into which patients could clear their mouths after a cleaning. Instead, a suction tube is used – effectively, I thought – and nothing seemed amiss. Not so for my husband. This new situation perplexed him so much that he brought this up with the friends who’d introduced us to the dentists’ office and we were sent a link to a California dentist’s blog that explained the whole situation:

Sanitation in the Dental Office
 
Perhaps the most compelling reason to remove it was sanitation. No one wanted to clean that spit bowl, especially the assistants. In addition as described, hitting the bowl with numb lips was a challenge and often ended up with drool on the floor.
 
Water Waster
 
The cuspidor, its proper name, was also an enormous water waster and leaks from its plumbing proved to be one of the main sources of major dental office flooding. As more technology has come into the operatory, space has become more valuable and the cuspidor leakage a liability to electronics.
 
Dental Office Efficiency
 
Probably the most important cause for the demise of the cuspidor was efficiency. Time motion studies showed that dentists spent 20% of their time watching people attempt to spit and then trying to catch those annoying spit strings. Given the cost of dentistry spending that time just made procedures take longer and more expensive.

So there you go: perfectly logical, if you ask me. Seems a curious thing to be fixated on, but Rob, with whom I usually see eye to eye, is definitely not in sync when it comes to whether we need a sink. Trust me, that line works better if you hear it. Try the audio journal, won’t you? 😉
 

If you are among those who pop by my public Facebook page, first off, thank you. I post daily reminders about the journal there, as well as the odd picture and comment. Last week, I managed to get quite a bit of feedback when I posted a recipe I found on HuffPo for slow cooker macaroni and cheese.
 
A few things about that. I have fallen back in love with my Crock-Pot and it’s not just because winter weather makes me want to break up with salads permanently and just dive into comfort food. It’s because for years I could only haul it out on weekends.
 
Why? Okay, you’re going to think this is nuts, but the smell of food in the slow cooker while we were trying to nap was a form of delicious torture. It actually prevented Rob and me from getting good afternoon sleep. So that’s why we can embrace it now. And there’s also the fact that I have so much more time. I’m not getting up half dazed at 4 pm and trying to throw something together for dinner. That was life for some 30 years. Now I have the luxury of planning ahead, of anticipating the dinner that awaits.
 
Now to the recipes. I posted that mac and cheese assuming that, because of its link, it was going to be just fine. Well, I found out the hard way that I should check the veracity of recipes as closely as I do news stories when I post or link. Why? Because the ingredients pictured in the link – from which I did my grocery shopping – varied from the ingredients that ended up going in her “revised” recipe. I ended up improvising, with wonderful results, but I was not amused with the bait and switch that seemed to be going on. 
 
Don’t get me wrong – when it comes to cooking, I’m all about improvising. It’s why I found a clam chowder recipe online for the slow cooker that ended up being a pretty wonderful seafood chowder concoction once I finished with it. But it’s also why I rarely share my own recipes, as there’s so much creativity happening that isn’t on the page and I would never want to lead you astray.
 
So here’s a link to a fantastic article I found yesterday. Eight ways to make you love your slow cooker even more, from a self-cleaning method to ways to prevent chicken breasts from drying out. I hope you’ll find these as helpful and inspiring as I did. Happy home cooking!
 

I’ve long been intrigued with the idea that we all have dreams – nightmares, really – involving our jobs. When I was in news, for example, I had a dream that the sounder had gone off (that tune they played when it was time to listen to a newscast), and I got into the booth with just a handful of entertainment stories. No news, just fluff. Of course, that’s one of about a dozen that I’d have as my job evolved. But in every case, I was completely helpless.
 
I know other people have job-related nightmares and have wondered if it might make a fascinating podcast or even a book. What does Commander Chris Hadfield dream he can’t do when he needs to? What does a surgeon dream of not being able to do when the situation is dire? My own dad, a commercial and armed forces pilot, would dream that just as he was coming in for a night time landing, the lights on the runway would be turned off. Seems as if we all have them.
 
So what do we have panic dreams about now? Funnily enough, Rob and I found ourselves discussing this yesterday when he got home from a morning hockey game (he’s back to playing three times a week now). I told him that while he was gone, I dreamed that he was playing goal for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I had texted Ian and Gord from the CHFI Morning Show to be sure to watch, as he’d be in goal that night. 
 

 
So Rob asked me, “Did you also dream that I had a problem with my equipment?” 
 
Rob thought it was funny I had the same dream he’s had for years, but every time he dreams that he’s called up by the Leafs, he can’t get dressed fast enough or he can’t find his equipment and the game starts without him. 
 
I had to laugh. We both remember back to the early 1990s when Rob actually did get a call from the Leafs: Bill Watters was assistant GM of the team and Rob knew him because Bill had been co-host of “Talking of Sports” with Bob McCown and Rob was the show’s producer. Bill knew Rob played goal and there came a day when, to the best of our recollection, the team’s regular goalie was missing practice and the backup goalie had to skip because of a family emergency.
 
We came home from wherever we’d been and checked our trusty Radio Shack answering machine and there it was, something almost every Canadian kid dreams of: a call to take the ice with the team you’ve loved since you could walk, never mind skate. 
 
And we weren’t home to take the call.
 
But that’s okay. We’ve gotten nearly as much pleasure from remembering that day and the one that got away as if Rob had actually been able to let the team use him for target practice; that is, if they could have stopped laughing at his old leather pads (which he later gave to Ian’s kids when he lucked into Felix Potvin’s used equipment).
 
Oh, by the way, Rob says his dream ending to that whole scenario is that he plays with the team that day, they say, “Holy cow, where have you been?” and sign him to a contract. Then the Leafs go on to win the Stanley Cup. Because, as he says, that’s how the fantasy goes. And it’s so much better than the one about not finding your equipment.
 

First of all, welcome back if you were here last week. And, well, if you haven’t checked in since December because you were taking time away from the daily routine, a great big welcome back to you, too, and Happy New Year! I did four fresh journals last week and it feels good to be at this well-worn keyboard again. Check ’em out!
 
As we get set to embark on a brand new week here together, I have to tell you a story about my favourite author, a man I’ve never met, but with whom I’ve been in touch thanks to me being a fan who’s also active on social media. His name came up here last week in connection to a remark he made about a crazy cooking mishap. Linwood Barclay’s regal name also came up in our house around Christmas, as in how I almost ruined my own husband’s gift.
 
Many of you will know Linwood as a former (and hugely popular) columnist with the Toronto Star who has gone on to great success as a writer of mysteries and thrillers. I first got hooked on his writing thanks to a book called Trust Your Eyes. Soon to be a film, its entire premise is fascinating: a man suffering from schizophrenia won’t leave his home but views the world through a Google Street View-type software and thinks he’s seen evidence of a crime. My synopsis doesn’t do it justice, but trust me when I say that there’s a reason Linwood gratefully counts Stephen King among his biggest (and most vocal) fans.
 

 
So it was that when I tweeted I’d just bought Rob (who, thankfully, steers clear of my feed) the latest Barclay book, Parting Shot, this internationally bestselling author very kindly messaged me and offered to personalize the book. All I needed to do was send my address and he’d fill out a sticker with his autograph on it, inscribed to Rob. Sweet!
 
I sent our address and, after a few weeks’ time and an accumulation of things on my mind, managed to forget about Linwood’s kind offer. 
 
Fast forward to a few days before Christmas, when Rob and I were retrieving the mail together. As I pulled a red envelope out of our Canada Post mailbox, excited for more holiday tidings, Rob remarked how strange it was that that particular envelope had no stamp on it! What sorcery was this, we wondered, that allowed a card to travel to us without a stamp? Was it government? Magic? 
 
I looked at the back of the envelope with its little gold sticker and the name “Barclay” with a return address. That’s when my brain shut off and my mouth went into overdrive. 
 
“Barclay? Barclay? Who do we know named Barclay?” 
 
Rob couldn’t come up with anyone. I suddenly remembered a kind lady I used to see for facials a few times a year and wondered how Patricia Barclay found us in BC!
 
And then, when we got home, I opened the envelope and, peeking out from the Christmas card inside, were three personalized labels with different inscriptions. IT WAS LINWOOD BARCLAY!
 
I slapped the card shut and said, “Oh! I remember…” and left it at that. I’m pretty sure Rob saw the labels too, but certainly did a good job of pretending not to have put two and two together on Christmas morning. 
 
Once again proof that I am, to quote a Tweet, “like, really smart.” A real stable genius, depending on which horse farm I’m visiting! Have a great day and I’ll be back with you tomorrow.
 

As we enjoyed a lovely beef barley soup/stew this week, I was reminded how, a year ago, I’d promised Rob and myself that I’d get a little more comfortable in the kitchen in my “reWirement.” That hasn’t happened yet and, along with drinking more water, I’m going to be a little more dilligent in doing just that. Looking up recipes. Stepping outside my comfort zone. Continuing to explain to my sisters why I really don’t need an Instant Pot now that I have time to cook (although two out of three of the sisterhood in Kelowna couldn’t stop raving about these must-have appliances that have taken Canada by storm).
 
Fortunately for you – if not for me – the more time I spend experimenting, the more stories there will be that we’ll all be able to laugh at. But what’s ironic is that, in 2017, the two funniest kitchen occurrences weren’t even my fault. 
 
You’ll recall, of course, the great chicken incineration that happened when Rob reversed how he barbecues and went high and hot when it should have been low and slow. 
 

 
He has since gotten back up on that horse – or fowl – and regained his confidence at the grill, thank goodness.
 
Then there was Christmas morning, just a week-and-a-half ago. My sister Cindy had some frozen buns (and not just because of the Kelowna weather). The recipe for her Land of Nod buns (so named, I’m guessing because you don’t have to get up early to knead, etc.) called for a bundt pan. She didn’t have one and considered using an angel food cake pan, but opted not to. When you combine those circumstances with the fact that she added a few extra balls of dough, above and beyond what the recipe called for, you get a disaster of almost laboratory proportions.
 
When I posted the picture on Instagram and Twitter Christmas morning, I included the caption: “Why, when the recipe calls for a bundt pan, you use a bundt pan,” I got some hilarious responses.
 

 
Author Linwood Barclay tweeted (@LinwoodBarclay) “Which Alien movie is this from?” while Karen called it “Edible modern art.” @Metran15 asked, “What on earth was that?” while most folks on Instagram wondered why I would be cooking giant mushrooms (and that’s a perfectly logical question, judging by the picture). 
 
In the end, they were just yummy (which is all that really matters), we had some laughs and were grateful to have added another memory from a lovely few days of music, family, food, tears and “cheers!” With the 12 Days of Christmas ending, it’s always a good time to reflect and relive the warmth, right? Maybe curl up with a good book? Linwood Barclay has written quite a few….