Snow Days

"A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things." - George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

"I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas: It brings people together while time stands still. Cozy couples lazily meandered the streets and children trudged sleds and chased snowballs. No one seemed to be in a rush to experience anything other than the glory of the day, with each other, whenever and however it happened." - Rachel Cohn, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares

"Well, I know now. I know a little more how such a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person." - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Snow days always remind me of home - of good books and hot tea and afternoons safely tucked away in bed. But, unfortunately, blizzards and midterms seem to have combined their forces this February. It's going to be a chilly couple of weeks. Stay warm out there.

Late Night Love Letters

Yesterday night I found myself curled up in a corner of Starbucks, hazelnut hot chocolate in hand, writing love letters to complete strangers. The World Needs More Love Letters is a campaign created by Hannah Brencher. It started with her leaving anonymous love letters around the city, giving whoever found them a quick dose of joy to get them through the day. It quickly evolved into what it is today - an organization that accepts nominations from around the world by concerned family and friends, asking people they've never met to show a little love to someone who's having a hard time.

The world really could use more love letters - and more cozy evenings in coffee shops with friends, writing until midnight. The universe can be pretty crazy and overwhelming, and if you feel like throwing a little bit of love out into the world, this month's letter requests are due in the mail by March 10.

I can't describe this feeling, knowing that a couple minutes of my time will translate into a smile on a stranger's face. Whatever it is, it's a powerful thing.

Friday Find: Bon's Off Broadway

As an intense lover of breakfast foods, graffiti and exploring, Bon's really is the place to be. It's the kind of place that, just by sitting there, makes you feel like you're a part of something bigger. The walls are plastered with images, names and words from the people who came before and the booths are full of people from all walks of life. It's a bit like a museum, really. Every inch of wall space tells a story - every late night customer has universes beneath their skin. Sometimes I need a good dose of Bon's to remind me of that.

To be honest, I've been to Bon's twice so far (with many more trips to come) and never before 6pm, but this place must be packed in the mornings. For $2.95 you get your choice of toast, eggs, bacon/ham/sausage, fried potatoes and jam. Yes, there are other things on the menu for slightly more typical restaurant prices, but when the massive neon sign outside advertises "Breakfast All Day $2.95" I tend to take direction surprisingly well.

I always leave Bon's full, happy, and intimately aware of just how good I've got it. Bon's is quirky and a little rough around the edges, but every time I walk in I feel like I am welcome. The booths are cozy, the food is hot, and there's really no place I'd rather be on a Friday night.

The Sweetest Day of the Year

I really truly love February 14th. Not because of big romantic gestures or Hallmark slogans but because, once a year, there's a whole day dedicated to reminding us how big a role love plays in everything we do.

I love seeing people on the bus with bouquets of flowers, secret smiles, boxes of chocolate and an irrepressible sense of hope. That crazy humming in your veins when you like someone and maybe, just maybe, they like you back.

That's the kind of feeling that can light your life on fire and burn cities to the ground.

If you're in the mood for something extra sweet, I spent my morning baking Slutty Brownies. The mind-boggling creation of The Londoner, this doesn't really feel like a recipe so much as a road map to reaching culinary bliss. If you're looking for a made-from-scratch version, there's a lovely recipe here, but for those of us whose mouths water and pupils dilate at the mere thought of rich, gooey layers of cookie dough, Oreos and brownies, principles can wait until the 15th. This is no time for common sense. This is the time for pre-packaged cookie dough (just add butter and eggs! Who knew) and instant brownie mix. This is the time for sweet as sugar and baked to perfection.

Prepare the packaged cookie dough (or, if you're feeling particularly patient and virtuous, whip up a batch of your favorite chocolate-chip cookie recipe) according to the instructions on the package and pat it down at the bottom of a greased brownie pan. This is step one.

Step two: Make a layer of Oreos. Eat the broken ones - this recipe demands nothing but the best.

And finally, mix up your brownie batter and pour it on top. The thicker the brownie layer, the softer and easier to eat the Oreos will get. Bake at around 350F to 375F for about thirty minutes. The cooking time and temperature really depend more on the brownies - but go ahead and pull them out of the oven while there's still a bit of batter sticking to your fork. A little extra goo is never a bad thing.

Cool, slice and enjoy. Preferably with a tall glass of soy milk and surrounded by people you love. This is my Valentine, something sweet from me to you.

On University: Me + Alcohol

In high school, I was always that girl who didn't drink. This wasn't exactly because of a conscious decision on my part, no dramatic renunciation in the hallway, health conditions or religious views. It just was. And because my friends and I found fun things to do and ways to enjoy this role we'd been cast in, it didn't change. Until I got to university.

The first question I was asked during orientation was, "What's your name?" followed shortly afterwards by the far more pressing "Do you drink?" A handy response to have with you at all times, whether you dig alcohol or can't stand the stuff is the quick, no-questions-asked, "I'm underage."

Then comes the follow-up: "When's your birthday?"

Growing up, my mom didn't drink. The few times we had alcohol in the house, it seemed strange and out of place. That and it smelled really bad. So I never registered what it meant to have a January birthday - to turn 19, the legal drinking age in BC, before the majority of my first year friends.

Apparently, it's kind of a big deal.

My birthday came and went with a lot of buzz and countless people asking when I was going out. To a bar, to a club, to a liquor store followed by me sitting in my room with the lights out and Johnny Cash playing in the background as I quietly drink myself into a stupor. I'm not so clear on the details. The dreaded "Do you drink?" was back, flying from nearly every mouth. And even though it sometimes seems like universities are a breeding ground for "drinking culture," there's no doubt in my mind that if I had said, "No, I don't" that decision would've been respected and I wouldn't have felt any pressure from my peers.

But I don't know if that's a decision that I'm prepared to make.

When a few of my friends in high school would get drunk and go to parties, I thought it was a crowd that I would never fit in with, nor did I particularly want to. When I hear stories now of people blacking out and being carried back to their rooms, I'm definitely not throwing my hand in the air. And when a friend of mine had to get taken out of a pub bathroom on a stretcher because she was drunk and going into shock, it sure wasn't the most winning endorsement for alcohol.

You can have fun without it, I've always thought. And while I still believe that's true, I'm also not quite as convinced as I was, say, six months ago.

I think there are some situations - at a bar, a club, a house party - when it really isn't all that fun if everyone is drinking but you. Not only is it hard to get quite so excited about beer pong or scream made up lyrics to a song you've never heard before without alcohol, it also creates a weird moralistic hierarchy. Are you implying that you're a better person for not drinking? Are you just sitting there, smug and sober, judging everyone else for their so-called vices?

I know alcohol can be a problem and I know excessive drinking isn't just some fun university game. I just finished reading Dry by Augusten Burroughs and it really made me reconsider the power and implications of addiction. But I don't want that. I don't want to drink every night or have my fridge stocked with bottles that cost more than my clothes. I just want the occasional night out, that sweet but dangerous buzz in my veins, the ability to test out all my options without judgement.

Because the truth is I still don't know. I don't know if I am so completely against alcohol and its effects on the mind and body that I just flat out don't want to drink. I don't know if I'm okay turning down invitations to go out--or showing up and trying to have fun sober. I don't know if I am brave enough to take a stand, especially when it's a stand that I haven't quite made up my mind about.

Yet again, this whole "life" thing comes down to figuring out the person you want to be and making decisions that reflect that. And I'm working on it. I may no have it quite together yet, but I'm working on it. If all else fails, at least I know I'll always be able to drink my feelings, right? Well, maybe not.

Friday Find: Perogy Night In Vancouver

Once upon a time, when I was a just as food-obsessed but slightly shorter (and with significantly better taste in clothes--hello, lime green skort. Rocked that all through the second grade) Erika, my mum's friends threw a Perogy Party. I remember a house was full of sunlight and flour and women's voices, shrieking with laughter at the last string of crooked syllables that fell from their mouths. The building was no longer really a house - it had been converted to a higher purpose.

The living room was for filling. The couch became a place to rest massive bowls of peeled potatoes; the bookshelf was a ledge for balancing jars of sauerkraut; the piano had been converted into a table around which women gathered in their stained aprons and thick Polish accents, drinking coffee and wiping sweat off their foreheads. Perogies are serious business and hard work, in case you weren't aware.

The dining room was for dough. The table was barely recognizable under a layer of flour and scraps. Strong arms kneaded, rolled and sliced. Quick hands used a fork to press the edges closed - hands that were lined with tradition, embroidered dresses and wood stoves and generations that had done this before and would do this again and again and again.

The kitchen was for assembly.

I remember the floor was covered with plates, pans, baking sheets, tea towels--all of them stacked high with carefully constructed, handmade perogies. All we could do was stare, eyes wide with anticipation, as they were dropped one by one into boiling water then thrown onto a sizzling pan.

Confession time: I have no idea how to spell perogy. Pierogi. Pirogi. Whatever it is, smother it in sour cream and fried onions and I am deeply, deeply in love. Which is why I was so excited to hear about the Holy Trinity Ukrainian Orthodox Church's "Friday Night Ukrainian Supper." Perogies, cabbage rolls, Ukrainian sausage, Borscht, all homemade and hot from the stove on the first Friday of every month. And it is so worth the wait.

There was already a line up by the time my friend and I arrived (supper is served from 5:00 to 8:00), but luckily it was only for take out orders. Pay attention to the signs or you mind end up waiting longer than expect. I was running late for my third (yes, it's that good) visit, and by 6:30 the line to eat in winds all the way down the block.

When we reached the door, we were given place mats and told to find a table with empty seats, then fill out a menu form and join the queue. Really, what could be better than meeting new people over a plate of delicious food? I had the regular dinner (six perogies, two cabbage rolls and a Ukrainian sausage for only twelve dollars) and I could barely walk afterwards. So much incredible food and such a beautiful way of bringing people together. It was a fun night and an experience that I now recommend to everyone and anyone willing to listen (and some who obviously aren't. Hello, strange man on the bus. How do you feel about Ukrainian food?). Sometimes a meal can be about so much more than just the food you're eating.

March 7th. I'm already counting down the days.