The Pear Tree Blog

Archive for January, 2010

There’s nothing like a New Year or a birthday to get a person in a reflective mood. As luck would have it, my birthday comes shortly after the New Year begins so I get a big portion of my reflecting out of the way all in one month.

They say a lady never tells her age. So in keeping with proper decorum I won’t actually say how old I’ve turned – but I am currently looking back on being 38, and how the experience compared to my rather high ideal.

You see, several years ago, back when I was still somewhat of a newbie to the 30s, a friend of mine who is a number of years older than me told me that 38 was the ultimate age for a woman. She had certainly found this to be true, and she was backed up by a friend of hers who insisted that, yes, it really is The age to be.

The theory goes that when a woman is 38 she has all the advantages of youth – good looks, health, energy and attractive physique – but also has a larger stockpile of wisdom, experience, savvy and stability. It is the year, my friend promised, when everything comes together for a woman and she is at her finest.

It is with this claim that I travelled through my 30s, always anticipating, ever wondering, forever hopeful.

Looking back at the last year, though, I’m not so sure this was the case for me. As luck would have it, I ushered in my birthday three months pregnant, so my body was not exactly what I’d describe as the most attractive physique I’ve ever had, say what you will about the beauty of a child-bearing body and that certain glow. Having a c-section meant a longer recovery and so there goes the vibrancy and energy of youth. And lets not talk about the sleep deprivation and what that does to the spirit.

As for the wise and savvy side of the equation, in addition from suffering – what are they called? – pregnant moments? Where your brain shuts down and you forget common, everyday words, streams of thought and important tasks? – I have never in my life felt as unwise as I have trying to nurture a creative and energy-packed two-year-old.

So while I love the idea of an “ultimate” year, where everything just comes together for you and goes off without a hitch, I don’t think 38 was it. At least not for me.

Which leads me to wonder, have I already had my ultimate age? Is there an ultimate age?? I’ve always been a tad, shall we say immature – perhaps 40 will be my 38? Please let me know, though, if you’ve found yours – and what you think it is.

In the meantime, I shall hold out fond hopes for age … you know … the one that comes after 38.

While we’re big fans of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, blog giveaways definitely rank among our favourite things as well. And when the giveaway is of roses? Well, it seldom gets much better than that.

We at The Pear Tree have been watching the Flea Market Style blog with great interest since last summer. The magazine is slated to debut next month, and we can hardly wait. From the sneak previews and teasers that have been posted it promises to be a beautiful and inspiring magazine.

Which brings us back to the giveaway. It’s not ours, this time. To help build the excitement of the impending launch, Flea Market Style is giving away 10 signed and numbered prints featuring a vase full of roses. The picture will appear in a story in the magazine. Visit their post to learn more.

Ahhh, café.

I feel it percolate my spirit as I perch in front of my computer screen, green cup firmly in hand. My eyes close as I take a sip, and a smile passes, unexpectedly, across my face.

Mellow, warm, inviting, the aroma of freshly brewed joe is one that’s been pretty foreign to my abode these last, oh, 14 or so months. Ever since I knew I was pregnant with Baby No. 2. And it’s been hard – oh, so hard. When I was pregnant with my son, it was easy. I simply had no desire for coffee. Or tea, hot chocolate, chai … but the last time around I wanted it – ooooh I wanted it. And, since delivering back in August, I’ve occasionally indulged myself in a cup – although I’m trying to not make it a habit while I’m still nursing.

Today is one of those rare days, though, that I have given in to temptation. A day where I just really needed some liquid inspiration.

I should stress that I’m not actually physically addicted to coffee. I can down several cups at a time with nary a jitter to be found. And I can drink the stuff every day for a year and stop cold turkey without ever experiencing a headache. No, my addiction is mental – or maybe more emotional. It’s the culture of coffee that hooks me. Good coffee, it goes without saying. Fresh brewed, from the bean, warm, rich, aromatic. It stimulates good conversations. It pairs with chocolate, vanilla and desserts of all manner and make. It accessorizes rainy days, snow days and sunshine. It gets the creative juices flowing.

So, at a loss for what to write, but wanting to write something, I scooped a heap of decaf Verona into my brushed metal Cuisinart coffee maker and brewed myself a cup.

It didn’t take long for the smell to fill the house, giving it a mellow, coffee shop aura.

Then, five gladsome beeps later, it was ready. Just hearing the coffee poured into my cup, gurgling joyfully all the way up, made me want to weep with the pleasure of it.

It appeals to all of my senses – sight (is there a more comforting colour than mocha?), sound, smell and taste (obviously), and even touch as I clutch the warm cup in my hands.

And now I sit and slurp, and words again flow easily out of my fingers and onto the screen. The coffee has worked its magic and I again have something to write about.

The plan, today, was to go out for lunch with my mother and two kids. We have a number of favourite lunch spots – informal-yet-quaint or stylish soup and sandwich spots that boast fresh food with a reasonable price tag.

I love eating out, and snatch hold of the opportunity to do so whenever it comes up. I love eating food that’s prepared for me (I can cook, but admit that I don’t actually like to), and enjoy trying new things that I might not think of on my own. And I relish being in an atmosphere with lots of people to watch, the buzz of conversation around me, wonderful aromas and the warm, often eclectic atmosphere that most of my favourite hangouts are imbued with.

But today, I felt funny. Funny about eating out. Funny about going about in my happy, carefree existence while people in Haiti struggle with such enormous loss – loss of loved ones, loss of homes, loss of any sense of security they may have had, which, given their tumultuous history, probably wasn’t very high to begin with.

Today I felt funny about paying extra for someone to make me and my party a wrap or panini that I could technically make at home, while that money could actually benefit someone in need. So I decided to forgo lunch out and give the money to an organization that will help to do some good, instead.

It’s not a lot – $20, by my estimate. But if others do the same – even $5 or $10, a missed latte here or there – the number will be multiplied. I don’t say we ought to deny ourselves forever because there’s always someone in need (if you can, you’re a better person than I), but every now and then it just seems right.

Here is a list of links to organizations in Canada that was printed in The Daily Courier today. I’ll probably choose one of them…

- Canadian Red Cross (hoping to raise at least $2 million): click on the link, or call toll free 1-800-418-1111 or visit any Red Cross office.

- Humanitarian Coalition (consists of CARE Canada, Oxfam Canada, Oxfam-Quebec and Save the Children Canada).

- Plan Canada

- Salvation Army: or call 1-800-725-2769. Bell Mobility customers can make $10 donations by texting the word “haiti” to 45678. Donations can be mailed to Army Territorial Headquarters, Canada and Bermuda, 2 Overlea Blvd., Toronto, ON M4H 1P4. Donations can also be dropped off at local Salvation Army units. Specify “Haiti Earthquake Disaster Relief Fund.”

- Doctors Without Borders

- Unicef Canada

- United Jewish Appeal of Greater Toronto: or call 416-631-5705

- World Vision Canada

What will you do with your lunch money?

There is another resolution that I really ought to make but didn’t bother listing with the others because I know I’ll probably break it before the month is up. I need to stop buying books. Seriously. And no, not in an attempt to reach out to my Neanderthal roots. Quite the contrary.

You see, I have a problem. My name is Lori-Anne and I am a book-a-holic. I love buying books. So much so, in fact, that in recent years I’ve bought and bought and bought without ever finding the time to read my purchases.

Last year, I decided to sit down and actually start to read what I have accumulated – starting with Ulysses (James Joyce), which I purchased in a fit of ambition in The Book Shop in Penticton a few years ago (still haven’t cracked the spine on that one). The plan was to then have a go at The English (Jeremy Paxman), The Skystone (Jack Whyte) and the old Canadian classic, Who Has Seen the Wind (W.O Mitchell).

Mark me 0/4. I have read, though – The Cat in the Hat (Dr. Seuss), The Tale of Peter Rabbit (Beatrix Potter), Winnie-the-Pooh (A.A. Milne) and, oh, my son’s current favourite, Where the Wild Things Are (Maurice Sendak). And others, of course – so many other good, children’s, books.

As for my own collection, it sits in stacks and stacks, all over my house. Stacks and shelves and boxes of books – too many of them still unread. It’s shameful, really.

But there’s something about bookstores that makes me desire more books. Maybe it’s the tall towers – sometimes arranged maze-like, full of knowledge (or at least ideas) and adventure. Each package of bound-together pages is a door into another life or a world that the reader can inhabit. Sometimes it’s almost overwhelming.

I’ve tried, in my purchasing habits, to stick to a theme – classics, Can Lit, music, art – and then I come across a crazy gem such as A Last Diary, by W.N.P. Barbellion. I don’t know who he is but the first words I read hooked me: “March 21st, 1918. – Misery is protean in its shapes, for all are indescribable. I am tongue-tied. Folk come and see me and conclude it’s not so bad after all – just as civilians tour the front and suppose they have seen war on account of a soldier with a broken head or an arm in a sling. Others are getting used to me, though I am not getting used to myself,” he begins. So I buy it, even though it doesn’t fit into any theme.

I still haven’t read beyond that, of course.

If I had more time, I’d read all the time. I know people who read on the train or the bus, on their breaks or after work. I’m not going to break down my schedule for you, but it seems there’s always something else to fill that spot. So I buy, rationalizing in some crazy way that to own is as good as to read, and if my shelves are well stocked and my room nicely furnished with interesting books, I will be a better person for it.

I’m still not convinced that’s altogether far-fetched – a room full of literature and music and art is still richer than one devoid of such treasures, even if they are just aesthetic. Why do you think book stores are so tantalizing?

Someday I’d like to open my own secondhand book shop (with an adjoining tea room), and just be surrounded by great books – novels, diaries, history books, art anthologies, travel journals, the list goes on. And then, oh yes, I might even have a chance to sit down and read, between customers.

Until then, I might just keep on buying, pointlessly. At least until I find a more productive hobby.

I’ve long been a sucker for writing New Year’s resolutions. I’m not saying that I’m always 100 per cent faithful to the list I compose each year (I’m not). But there’s something about the process of reflecting on one’s life at the end of the year, analyzing what works and what could use some tweaking, that’s actually affirming. Okay, and – if we’re being honest – I really like writing lists.

This year, after considerable thought, I’ve settled on five resolutions (any more than that and I know my ambition is greater than my will to succeed). Here, in no particular order, they are:

1. Start to journal again. There was a time – about 15 solid years, in fact – that I was a faithful journaler. I started keeping a notebook back when I began attending university in England, chronicling my years there, my travels, aspirations, philosophies of life and general goings on. I kept at it when I returned home, when I taught English in Korea for 20 months and when I established my career as a freelance journalist and photographer. Sadly, it was when my son was born, two-and-a-half years ago, that I stopped altogether. I blame tiredness, too-full schedules and, well, maybe a little bit of procrastination. But I’ve been thinking recently about how much I’m missing, how many precious and vital details of this early period of motherhood that I will eventually forget. And, as a writer, I know I owe it to myself to capture this. Blogs are good, but you don’t (or at least I don’t) write with the candor that I do when it’s only for me.

2. Wake up earlier. In an attempt to eke out the very last winks of sleep, it’s rare for me to rise before my son does. These days, that’s usually between 7-7:30 a.m. But if I could just force myself up even half an hour earlier it would give me that little bit of extra time to journal, exercise or read my Bible (last year’s resolution, which never made it past January or Genesis).

3. Print pictures and put them in albums. Since I switched to digital, more than five years ago, I have printed off almost nothing. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures await sorting and printing and organizing in attractive albums and picture frames. Before getting married, four years ago, I picked up a couple of beautiful, leather bound albums for engagement pictures and wedding shots. They still sit, empty, while our pictures remain on disk. The task is becoming increasingly overwhelming now that there are not one, but two children in the mix and the stockpile grows by leaps and bounds. I WILL get this done this year.

4. Put things back in their place as soon as I am done with them. I am horrible – notorious, even – for placing things on the kitchen island or my desk or the table by the front door “just for a minute” that lasts a week or two. I hate it, yet I continue. But not this year.

5. Find one moment of exquisite beauty everyday. Some time ago I heard an interview with Margaret Trudeau on CBC Radio, and she talked about how, even when life is difficult, everyone should try and find one moment of exquisite beauty everyday, and how sometimes that’s what gets you through. I don’t know if it’s possible everyday, but both exquisiteness and beauty are in the eye of the beholder and so I’m going to open up my eyes and my senses and see what happens.

So there they are. Like any list of resolutions, I hope these changes will help to make my life better – healthier and happier – by following through with them. But I also hope that, as a result, it will be richer, more beautiful and more blessed than it already is. Onward and upward to 2010!

P.S. If you haven’t visited the Pear Tree main page already this week, please do so and leave a comment to be eligible for our first giveaway.