Smart Like Streetcar

Looking back at our neighborhood, from across Lunenburg Harbour.

But this momma and papa weren’t thrilled that I ventured so close at feeding time.

I’ve loved Feist* since Kristina first introduced me to her music about three or four years ago; but now she’s found a place in my heart forever. See if you agree.**

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*She was born in Nova Scotia, so we like to claim her as our own, but truth to tell, she’s an Alberta girl.

** And leave a comment if you love the number four. For Jean Beliveau. And Bobby Orr. Or these guys, or the FF.

Damn, I should have taken a photo!*

Last night, we invited my oldest sister and her husband to dinner, to help us entertain Kristina’s parents who are visiting for two months two weeks.

I never know exactly how Kristina decides on a menu, but last night had an Indian theme; her appetizers included garbanzo bean fritters with garam masala, and mixed nuts dusted with Indian spices and sugar that hinted at sweet and heat. We enjoyed them sitting on our deck with beer and wine, watching the sailboats slice by in light winds.

Our main courses weren’t so complicated, but they were tasty. For years, I’ve tried to create a decent vegetable biryani on my own, and failed miserably. Repeatedly. Kristina nailed hers on her first try a month ago, and recreated it last night. It was slightly less spicy this time, but given the company, that was probably a very good thing. We paired it with a chana masala - again, with deep flavors, but with the heat reserved for another occasion.

But really… I just wrote all that, so I could get to this. Kristina’s dessert was so good, it would have knocked your sandals off. Truly, it was one of the greatest desserts I have ever tasted. And remember, I used to review restaurants for magazines.

It was surprisingly simple. We ran into Chester to pick up a cheque, and she grabbed a loaf of Julien’s Brioche. After it had been warmed in the oven, we sliced it thickly, slathered it in smooth, thrillingly sweet-and-sour mango curd, and topped it with fresh Annapolis Valley strawberries, quartered, and dusted with toasted coconut flakes.

I wanted to call it Strawberries a la Tempest, but she says it’s really more of an idea than a dessert.

I’m thinking if the interest here is high enough, she’ll publish the recipe on her blog.

Anyone interested?***

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* I swiped that photo off the Internet.

**Strawberries have to be local, or they’re simply not worth eating!

***I don’t know if this is a Nova Scotia thing or not, but a new species of stawberries is now grown here in the little town of New Ross, and it produces amazing fruit in August and September, so we will be able to enjoy this dessert again and again and again!

The conversation in our house earlier today.

K: Have you been over to Sweet Salty recently?

R: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a week ago.

K: Kate Inglis has a book deal.

R: Really? Is it…?

A pause. Kate has been through 18 hellish months; the Sweet Salty site is an unbelievably moving journey.

K: No, it’s not what you think. An adventure book. For kids.

A longer pause. First a moment of jealousy, then a moment of unfulfilled longing (for we both have adventure stories for young adults progressing, but very, very slowly). And then we both saunter easily to the same conclusion.

K: Can you think of a better writer? Or anyone who could do a better job?

R: No, I really can’t.

Kate Inglis is a brilliant writer. Bravo!

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I’m hoping some SLS readers — especially the published writers — will head on over to Sweet Salty to wish Kate Inglis well!

When it’s published, we’ll certainly be buying several copies, and promoting them here and there.

Salon’s Dear Cary advice solumn contained a letter from a university professor who is suffering from daily migraines, the very affliction that brought me to the abyss.

Dear Cary:

I’ve held off on writing this letter. I was raised in a household where we don’t complain about aches and pains; I am supposed to be stoic and able to cope, but I’m beginning to feel defeated by pain. Eighteen months ago I started getting migraines. What started out as a low-grade migraine 15 days out of the month has turned into “Chronic Daily Migraine,” in which every day I cope with pain that ranges from feeling like someone is attempting to use a bottle opener to pry off my cheekbone, to a thunderbolt-type pain that blasts along my forehead and makes moving my eyes agonizing.

I’ve been seeing a neurologist for 12 months. He and I have tried a combination of different drugs, and I’ve been hospitalized twice to be put on IV drugs that, while I’m on them, control the pain. Within 24 hours of each hospital release, however, the pain is back. After being continually turned down by my insurance company for adequate amounts of migraine medicine (apparently, the powers-that-be at the insurance company believe that people get migraines no more than twice a week, EVER), my doctor put me on opiates. After seven months on opiates, which dulled the pain to a point where I could get work done (I’m a writer and professor), I found that I was losing important things — my memory, sensation in other parts of my body, etc. — I chose to detox. Not wanting to go to the hospital, I did it with some medical supervision at home. Cary. It was hell, but I’ve gotten through it.

OK. Here comes the whining part. As I’m writing this, my head hurts. Migraines, now that they’re not dulled by the opiates, have invaded my sleep, and I have awoken several times the past few nights to find myself in the throes of severe headaches. Last night, I dreamed over and over again of killing myself, all in ways in which I rammed myself head-first into something. The dreams were pretty pathetic. The suicide attempts were half-assed, and were clearly my mind’s crying out for relief from the pain.

Finally, friends who know that I deal with this think that I’m so “brave,” or “courageous” or “amazing.” They have had migraines, they say, and those headaches have put them in dark rooms. But Cary, I can’t live my life in a dark room 24/7, contemplating nothing but how much my head hurts and hoping that there will be a miracle that saves me from all of this.

I do not believe that pain is our teacher. I do not find it ennobling. Nor do I find it to have religious significance since I am not traditionally religious.

I think, some days, about the opiates. Not because I’m jonesing for them, but rather, because I long for those moments when pain was not front-and-center in my head. Yet, I do not want to go back on them. I just want my head to stop hurting, even as I continue to live a life that, except for the headaches, is amazingly, fantastically good. I love my life. I’m not a suicide risk. But I fear that one day, in an effort to stop the pain, I may drive a pickax through my face.

Any advice?

I Am Not My Migraine

I posted a long response. I hope that many who are suffering from daily migraines will find this advice helpful.

This letter to Cary brought a tear, because I have lived through that heartache, sorrow, and unending pain for almost 14 years. Five thousand migraines, give or take. In the end, I was so ill and so weary that I started talking to my wife about how she might go on without me.

And yet, I’ve been given a second chance. And I feel lucky!

Just today, I found myself wishing that I was more like Kristina.

“Did you see the nasturiums at Nicki’s?” she asked. I thought hard for 30 seconds, trying to summon a mental image, or even a flash of colors, really.

Then I had to admit the truth.

“I guess I didn’t notice any flowers at Nicki’s.”

And then, when we exited the restaurant this evening, this lovely sunset over Mahone Bay, with the pastel houses, and three Protestant churches, all wooden, and all more than 200 hundred years old, now Canadian icons that make every southshore visitor unpack his or her camera while friends and family pose.

But it wasn’t Mahone Bay that caught my eye.

Did you see them?

A bevy of common mergansers, eight or nine at least, with their momma. My camera couldn’t get close enough to show them all to you.

But they were bright and beautiful, and they learned so much by playing Simon Says.

Perhaps next time, I will notice the nasturtiums.

The world’s oceans have warmed 50 percent faster over the last 40 years than was previously thought explains a new study in Nature by US and Australian researchers, and their research suggests that coastal countries are in real danger. The results also put another nail in the coffin of global warming naysayers.

The Nature study adds to the growing body of evidence which suggests that catastrophic global warming is far closer than was predicted just a few years ago. Indeed, the study corrects several assumptions made by the massive Nobel-winning UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), and proves several predictions made by studies predicated on advanced computer modeling. You see, one problem often cited by a few vocal scientists who argue against global warming was the suggestion that the world’s oceans were not warming up - or rising - as quickly as predicted by computer models. But this study proves that the computer models have, in fact, been highly accurate in predicting shift in temperature and the rise in water levels.

Higher oceanic temperatures contribute to rising sea levels in two ways. Obviously, warmer waters cause glaciers in places like Antarctica and Greenland to melt faster, and that is happening now at an alarming rate. But the second factor is that as water warms, it also takes up more volume. Taken together, sea levels have risen by 1.5 mm a year between 1961-2003, or 2.5 inches collectively. As a result, rising sea levels will eventually threaten international cities from Dharka to Shanghai.

“This is important for the climate modeling community because it demonstrates that the climate models used for assessing sea-level rise and ocean warming tie in closely with the observed results,” said co-author Peter Gleckler, a scientist at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. His colleague, Catia Domingues of the Centre for Australian Weather and Climate Research agrees, adding that “the projections will in turn assist in planning to minimize impacts, and in developing adaptation strategies.”