Basil & butter

A mound of basil leaves are sitting in a bag atop my fridge just waiting to become pesto.

Today is not the day. Maybe tomorrow.

I am also pondering the possibility of making my own cultured butter. Several food bloggers tout the relative simplicity of this endeavour.

Does this seem like madness?

Maybe, but it tastes soooooo good.

A handsome young hero

I feel a bit like a paisley dress-wearing woman from the 1940s as the thought sighs in my mind: What a handsome young man!

The young man being the 24-year-old reservist from Calgary, Cpl. Nathan Hornburg, who died Monday in a mortar attack as he stepped out of his tank to repair the protective vehicle, his only armour in the dangerous terrain.

The old-fashioned thought leapt into my mind unbidden as I read the story at the beginning of my work shift. I left the thought unspoken; It seemed too silly to say aloud in a newsroom full of hardened journalists.

The picture is stoic: His jaw upturned by resolute lips, even though his chocolate eyes betray warmth.

I wonder if he thought, as the photographer's camera flashed and snapped, 'This could be my legacy.'

Did the Department of National Defence photographer, too, wonder whether this one, this picture would land on the front page of papers across the country?

Does she ever try to guess who will, perhaps late at night long after her camera clicked the soldier's photo into film for eternity?

The DND photos surface each time a soldier is killed -- 71 so far.

And after every death the same string of stories follows, the first "Soldier killed in Afghanistan" with the up-to-date death toll and the basic facts. That's followed by a glimpse into who the soldier was and how he/she believed in the mission, usually headlined "Comrades remember fallen soldier at ramp ceremony."

Then, the final goodbye comes with the repatriation ceremony where family and friends speak about the man/woman they knew.

As a journalist, it is hard sometimes not to bang out a fill-in-the-blanks carbon copy story.

But you must seek out the personal; each soldier deserves it.

So, you try to give a sense of how eyes can be so warm in such a statuesque face, what drove a landscaper to join the army, why when he saw death after death plastered across the papers did he dare leave his family?

And perhaps, if you're successful, a tear will well not only in your own eye, but in those of readers across the country and some will let the sad thought slip into their mind, 'My, what a handsome young man... How sad.'

And it will not be silly.

Digressions

My oh my. How long it's been since I sat down and recorded my thoughts on this ole blog.

I sometimes wish I could be more devoted to it. Writing free of the newsroom restraints would do me good. The cliches of news writing, I fear, have taken a heel to my creativity, grinding it into the ground. Sometimes I write in my journal and find that the only words that pop into my head are ones more appropriate for newsprint such as beef up, rallied, threatens, purported, alleged, slain, squashed, and converged.

Not exactly riveting stuff.

But even at work, I've been trying to veer away from the convenient cliches and seek out original ways of describing the story. Instead of writing the grief-stricken father, I try to find the words he used to describe what is likely an indescribable pain.

And sometimes CBC's policies force me to seek out creative (and more accurate) descriptions. For example, we can't use the word terrorism. The reason: it's a very vague term that tells readers very little. So, for example, the so-called Toronto 18 who are suspected of plotting targets throughout the city become "bomb plot suspects" rather that terror suspects.

The same goes for the words "grotesque" and "gruesome." The copy editors often delete these terms. And so we are forced to go digging for accurate depictions.

But I digress. What I'm trying to write here is a promise (to myself) to try to write here more often. That I use this space as a place where I can fulfill my favourite motto as of late:

"The race in writing is not to the swift but to the original."
-William Zinsser

You too can spell with Flickr images: http://metaatem.net/words/

Hi! My name is A. and I'm addicted to the internet

Is there an internet addictions anonymous group? Because I may have to sign up.

Facebook, iTunes, three e-mail accounts, MSN Messenger and a host of blogs: the list of oft visited sites is lengthy and increasing by the day. Checking all these sites is eating up all my free time. Is that wrong?

I decided to spend a little extra time online and fill out a questionnaire about whether I am indeed addicted to the World Wide Web.

The test deemed me an average internet user who sometimes goes online longer than anticipated, but still has control over usage. (Sigh of relief.)

If the result had accused me of addiction, I was prepared to accuse the questionnaire creators of failing to understand the role internet plays in the social lives of those my age and younger. (Don't they know our social lives rely on networking sites and IMing?) Thankfully, I didn't have to.

But, even though the result assuaged some of my worries, I still have this niggling sense that I should try to restrain my compulsion for Facebook poking, blog checking and emoticon-heavy messaging. Perhaps I could even call someone up instead.

Maybe I'll start tomorrow. For now, I'm going to check on my Facebook news feed. :) :) grin grin.

Easter bunnies don't always wear their floppy ears

Am I too old for Easter egg hunts?

Why is it children have the drive to spend countless hours searching for little chocolate eggs and hollow chocolate bunnies? Perhaps it's their inability financially to purchase those treats. As an adult, I can just grab one of the shelf and pay for it.

And yet ... there is a certain delight in finding hidden treasures.

The Easter egg hunt is one tradition my family has not yet given up, even though the three of us have long since grown up and moved out of the family home.

Mostly, it's an obsession for my father who spends just as many hours plotting where to hide the chocolate as we do searching. He finds a twisted delight in watching us feel under countertops, clang through pots and scrutinize book shelves.

Past years have seen him tape it under the kitchen island, wedge it under the La-Z-Boy couch and hide it between two stacked frying pans.

And so when my mom visited this week, she decided to continue the tradition and hid my treats in my apartment. But fortunately, my mom is not the goal-oriented Easter bunny my father is and hid them in relatively easy spots: a TV stand drawer and the back of one of my closet shelves.

Easy peasy. And yet, initially, I sighed (internally) at the thought of seeking the chocolates out and figured I'd opt to just happen upon them instead of an active search.

To be honest, in the end, I did peek around for the treats ... and found them. So, I suppose, I'm not too old for an Easter egg hunt after all.

Mansbridge in heat? What a vision!

There are things that amuse me ... endlessly ... for no particular reason.

I present you with "Mansbridge Heat Vision." Perhaps it's the word choice or the fact that it was the No. 1 search according to Cbc.ca's homepage.

Or just maybe it was the comic relief I was desperate for in a day thick with sad stories: A three-year-old bitten in the face by a dog, a mother sentenced for leaving her toddler alone in a crib for three straight days, a mother charged with attempted murder in the stabbing of her baby. Need I go on?

When stories like these arise, I can tell you that not one journalist in the newsroom is hardened enough to shrug them off, despite what some think.

Millions of peaches, peaches for me

It's been awhile since I've written here. My excuse: my laptop was being problematic, and then my laptop got stolen out of my apartment.

Now, I've got a swanky new iMac with no such problems ... yet.

Anyways, I'm not even sure how to do this. I feel like it's an awkward reintroduction. So instead, I'll leap into something else.

I've discovered the nicest little (somewhat healthy) treat in my Nigella Lawson cookbook: Peaches cut in half and sprinkled with butter and brown sugar where the pit used to be, then baked in the oven. They ooze delish.

Off to enjoy...