The Double Down

How we determine that music is "bad" is entirely subjective. We all have our own opinions about what constitutes a bad song. While I might derive a sense of pleasure or excitement from a tune, you might be hollering at me to shut it off. True, there are awards and fame/fortune that artists come by, which some may say is an evaluation of their talents. However, these are more often about popularity contests and not an effective way to judge the craft of music making.

I have been thinking about the difference (or sameness) between bad music and bad food. Just as we judge music in a subjective way, is it possible that we do the same with our food? Can someone correctly argue that a McDonald's Happy Meal is good food? And if they can, and others agree with them, what does that tell us about the future of our food system?

These thoughts have been forefront in my mind because of a recent immigration to Canada - The Double Down sandwich by KFC. This sandwich (if you can call it that) has been making headlines across the country (CBC News Story).



KFC describes this monstrosity as a "one-of-a-kind sandwich featuring two thick and juicy boneless white meat chicken filets, two pieces of bacon, two melted slices of Monterey Jack and pepper jack cheese and Colonel's Sauce." The whole thing packs a whopping 32 grams of fat and 1380mg of sodium.

I'm no nutritionist, and I enjoy my share of food that some may deem to be junk. I don't believe in categorizing foods as "good" or "bad," as I feel this creates a sense of guilt and anxiety that shouldn't be associated with food. Our young people need to learn a sensible attitude towards our bodies' fuel, and grading our food like we do an exam may be harmful for teens who are developing body image issues.

Despite this, I'm still struggling NOT to label this sandwich as bad, as it scares me that fast food of this genre has become so pervasive in our society. We've all heard this before - the supersizing of our generation. But nothing seems to be changing, and in fact, I see the same patterns being repeated over and over again.

My brave and crazy husband has offered to complete a field experiment - he will buy and eat a Double Down, and will report back for my blog. We'll discuss taste, texture, consistency and price, and attempt to make some sense of what creates a "good" meal (if there is such a thing). Hubby will tell me his feelings and thoughts associated with eating such a sandwich, as surely, we have many emotional responses to our food.

In the same way we derive a sense of "guilty pleasure" from our food, we do the same with our music. Who hasn't blasted a song alone at home that they would never want to admit to listening to? Heck, we follow the same guilt pattern with so many things in our lives - skipping the daily workout, avoiding a visit to the doctor, sneaking in "one last smoke," downing 6 beers on the weekend, because dammit, we deserve it!!Perhaps the problem is that we are consumers who base our choices on values of right or wrong, good or bad. Essentially we are sinners, or full of grace. Black or white, and no in between.

On that note, here is a wonderfully sinful song by Britney Spears. It's a brilliant example of a contradiction - both catchy and annoying, boring and bold, brass and slightly embarrassing...enjoy!

Baby, can’t you see
I’m calling
A guy like you
Should wear a warning
It’s dangerous
I’m fallin’

There’s no escape
I can’t wait
I need a hit
Baby, give me it
You’re dangerous
I’m lovin’ it

Too high
Can’t come down
Losing my head
Spinning ‘round and ‘round
Do you feel me now

With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
And I love what you do
Don’t you know that you’re toxic

It’s getting late
To give you up
I took a sip
From my devil's cup
Slowly
It’s taking over me

Too high
Can’t come down
It’s in the air
And it’s all around
Can you feel me now

With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
And I love what you do
Don’t you know that you’re toxic

Don't you know that you're toxic

With a taste of your lips
I'm on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic

Intoxicate me now
With your lovin' now
I think I'm ready now
I think I'm ready now
Intoxicate me now
With your lovin' now
I think I'm ready now

An Ode to my Pug

Before we had a baby, this was our baby. In some ways she still is, but like most family pets, she often plays second fiddle to A.

Darcy was born on October 10th, 2004. That would make her 42 in people years. She was a surprise Christmas gift from my parents. Arriving on Christmas Eve at their newly purchased home, we began the grand tour. My parents saved my guest room until the end, and when they opened the door, there was this tiny porcelain pug sitting in a dog cage.

OK, so it wasn't porcelain, but she sat so still, that at first I thought she was fake. Then she began whining, and I realized that she was a real, wriggling, snuffling fur ball. I was so shocked that I began to cry, and could barely see her through all my tears.

Pugs hold a very special place in my heart. Before my parents had me, they bought their own little pug named Simon. I grew up right next to Simon, probably thinking all the while that he was my brother. There are countless pictures of me on the floor next to him, with his big pink tongue licking my face.

After Simon died, we got our next pug, Maggie. Maggie was truly "my" dog. She was a bit of a crazy pug (normally they are quite lazy and docile), and spent most of her days on the edge of the living room armchair barking at passerbys. She also liked to chase cars, which led to her inevitable death at the age of 4. She broke loose from her leash and ran into the street and was killed instantly. We were so devastated that we couldn't bring ourselves to buy another pug - we instead got a Jack Russell a little while later (who is still alive and kickin' at age 16!)

After Maggie died, I swore I would one day have another pug. Unfortunately, they became very "trendy" and the price for a purebred skyrocketed. If it hadn't been for my parents generosity, I'm not sure I'd ever have been able to afford one!

Darcy was there at our wedding, and sat by the bed while I delivered A. She has been with us on many road trips, up north to cottages and even camping. She still makes us laugh with all of her puggy antics, and we are fearful for the day when she is too old to run around chasing her tail.

Happy Birthday little pug...here is Weeping Tile (Sarah Harmer) with "Dogs and Thunder"

a rifle sits behind her sleeping ear
an echo on the cold wall closest neighbor couldn't hear
we dug a hole in the fall
so now its a frozen burial
and she's gone
just before the new year

well i'm gonna build a cross for the spot between the trees
and stick it in firm so it won't sway in their breeze
well you and i have trouble making up our half-assed minds
but she'd seen 16 years of our kind
and what's it like when your memories start to freeze

oh and i wonder what it is about dogs and thunder
what they hear coming over the fields
backhouse shelter warm nights in the summer
shaking the ground that you lie under
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore

and i came to see you on the day that it happened
you said hey sorry sar but i gotta go
and i was trying to read some sorta reaction
it's something you just can't show
so i guess it's time i go

across the snowy barnyard just past the driving shed
a shadow of me in the moon well i was in a movie in my head
this pile of dirt on the ground
will sink when nobody is around
and winter covers everything but everything's not dead

oh and i wonder what it is about dogs and thunder
what they hear coming over the fields
backhouse shelter warm nights in the summer
shaking the ground that you lie under
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore

Tamarack

I think I want to start adding photos to my blog. At first, I wanted the focus of my blog to be music. But the problem is, I can only upload lyrics, which don't really convey the full effect of the song. So to give my blog some substance and personality, I'd like to start adding photos. I am a horrible photographer, but maybe this will help me improve my skills! (plus, it's an excuse to learn how to use my husband's Canon 40D, which seems enormously complicated to me).

The catalyst for this change was my walk in the woods yesterday. I was crunching on the beautiful yellow needles of the tamarack trees, and I thought about how hard it would be to describe the landscape without a picture.

So, stay tuned for some pictures, as soon as I figure out how to upload! In the meantime, here is the "Tamarack Song" by a great children's group called The Wilderbeats (www.wilderbeats.com)

Tamarack, Hackmatack, Juniper, and Larch
Absolutely naked from November until March
It's got CONES! and it's got NEEDLES!
But it isn't what it seems...
It's decidedly deciduous and never evergreen

Next time you're outside playing and there's a tamarack in sight
Why don't you get up close and notice what the needles are like?
They grow in little bunches that look just like tiny brooms
If you were only a couple inches tall, you could use one to sweep your room!

Tamarack, Hackmatack, Juniper, and Larch
Absolutely naked from November until March
It's got CONES! and it's got NEEDLES!
But it isn't what it seems...
It's decidedly deciduous and never evergreen

Now, if there was a party that only softwoods could attend
And the invitation said that you could bring along a friend
The tamarack would never ask a taller tree to come
'Cause taller trees are too shady, and larches love their sun!

I suppose you all are wondering what "deciduous" really means
Well, in the season we call "autumn", you can see the falling leaves
The beautiful Red Maple may be the one that we know best
But the larches drop their needles too, so they also pass the test!

Tamarack, Hackmatack, Juniper, and Larch
Absolutely naked from November until March
It's got CONES! and it's got NEEDLES!
But it isn't what it seems...
It's decidedly deciduous and never evergreen

Warm me up!

Ah, fall. The leaves, the cool crisp air, the frosty grass in the morning. I just love fall. It's my favourite time of year! Perhaps because it always coincided with the start of school; and let me tell you, I LOVED school. I loved picking out my new outfit to wear, and packing my bag with freshly sharpened pencils, crisp white notepads and books that smelled like.....well...I don't know what books smell like! But I know that I have always sniffed books, regardless of whether they're new or old.

Fall is a time of darkness and death, but also a time for rest and preparation for the long winter ahead. Cooking and cleaning seem to go well with fall.

And cooking, I will be doing tons of! You can't go wrong with a warm fall soup, and I am always excited to try my hand at a new recipe. Here's one of my own concoctions:

1/2 small turnip, chopped into squares
1 sweet potato, chopped into squares
1/2 onion (or more...I don't particularly like onions)
1 cup lentils, chickpeas, whatever you like!
1 tbsp olive or canola oil
1 tsp minced ginger
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. turmeric
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
(1/2 tsp. salt, if no stock added)
1 can diced tomatoes
4 cups (or less, depending on whether you want soup or stew) water or veggie stock

Heat the oil in a medium size pot. Add the onion, ginger, garlic, turmeric and cinnamon, and cook until onion is soft. Stir in the turnip, potato and lentils and coat. Pour in the can of tomatoes and your water/stock and bring to a boil. Simmer for 20-25 mintues. Serve over quinoa, couscous, rice...whatever!

While you're slurping away, have a listen to "Autumn's Here" by Hawksley Workman:

You can tell by the wind
By fresh cut wood
All stacked to dry
That autumn's here
And it makes you sad
About the crummy
Summer we had

With pine trees creeking
The raven's screeching
Just like the story my grandma tells
About when a bird
Hits your window
And someone you know
Is about to die

Autumn's here
It's ok if you want to cry

Find a sweater
And you'll be better
Until the kindling is tinder dry
We can be quiet
As we walk down
To see the graveyard
Where they are now
I wonder how
They brought their piano
To haldane hill
From old berlin
Be hard to keep it
Well in tune
With winters like the one
That is coming soon
Auntumn's here
It's time to cry now

I think that ghosts like
The cooler weather
When leaves turn colour
They get together
And walk along
These old back roads
Where no one lives
And no one goes
With all their hopes set
On the railway
That never came
So no one stayed
I guess that autumn
Gets you remembering
And the smallest things
Just make you cry.

Autumn's here.