I Have Finally Succumbed

On July 12, 2025 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Hmmm?40 Comments

Well, Gentle Readers…after 5 long, healthy years (not so much as a sniffle!) and multiple vaccinations I have finally contracted Covid-19. And it kinda sucks.

Here’s what happened:

My sister (on the mainland) was in hospital and I wanted to visit. So I rented a car to make the 9 hour journey (including a 2 hr ferry) to go see her. (I didn’t want to take my electric car as I wasn’t sure where/if I could find charging stations and also didn’t want to make the journey any longer by having to stop to recharge several times.)

As I am pulling into her town and seeing the big red billboards ~~scaring~~ welcoming me (JESUS LOVES YOU. DO YOU LOVE JESUS?), I get a sweary text from my sister announcing that she has contracted Covid. Does your girl immediately turn around and book it back home ~~like a sane person would~~? Hell no! I put on an N95 mask and trotted right over to that den of germs and said hello, sister how ya doin? Spent a couple of days visiting with her (and eventually her newfound roomie, also with Covid) – always masked and sanitizing my hands every 5 minutes.

Then I awoke at 1:30 one morning because I had turned in bed and my nose was running like a proverbial faucet. Uh oh. My sister had a Covid test kit in her apartment (where I was staying) so I did the thing and this happened:

15 to 30 minutes, my ass. This thing went positive in less than a minute.

One thing about me – when I get sick I get flattened. When I was younger, I could sail through anything. I could work all day and party all night, even with a heavy cold. But those days are long behind me. So I knew I needed to get home and fast, before I became too ill to drive. I had to return the rental car too, as I had only contracted it for 6 days. So I packed everything of mine up and by 2:50am I was on the road. Thankfully there was a full moon to guide me through the mountains and help light my way. I kept giving myself a pep talk the whole way: You got this! You’re killing it! You’re not gonna hit any animals on the way home! (I did see 3 deer and a bear along the route, but nothing jumped in front of me so all was good.)

By a little after 9 am (hell yeah, I was booking it!) I was in line for the ferry and luckily only had to wait for one sailing before I could board (on the 11:30am boat). I stayed in my car except to use the washroom (masked, of course) and slept most of the time. Then I disembarked and headed for home. Once in my driveway I unpacked the car and then crashed onto my couch, where I slept for 4 solid hours.

The next morning I had to think about several things including how to return the car and get home again, and about potentially cancelling several appointments I have booked for the following week. I couldn’t ask my family to drive me home from the car rental location and expose them to the virus so what to do? I could take the bus and risk infecting many people. I could take a cab and risk infecting one person. Or….I could call Budget and ask to return the car to the airport location instead of downtown and walk myself home and infect maybe no one? So that’s what I did and thankfully they agreed. In fact, they praised me for my kindness and thoughtfulness in letting them know the situation. Strange, I thought. Isn’t this just common decency?

I always wondered how far it was from the local airport to my house. Now I know. Also, my watch kindly informed me that my vitals have changed and told me this could happen during illness. *Hey, thanks for noticing!*

Once home again (and after another crash on the couch – 2 hrs this time), I called my car dealership to let them know that I might not be able to bring my own car in for the maintenance appointment I booked a month ago, as I didn’t know if I’d be testing negative by appointed time. Once again I was praised for my kindness and thoughtfulness (so weird!) and the service advisor told me that he would get me in again as soon as possible if I couldn’t make it (not another month long wait) because of my extraordinary thoughtfulness. I just didn’t know what else to say except thank you.

So Gentle Readers, is this where we are now with regards to Covid or any contagious illness? Have we learned nothing from the pandemic? The service advisor told me that customers come in all the time coughing and sneezing and throwing dirty tissues at them, to be disposed of. There seems to be no regard for anyone else’s health; no taking of even the most minor precautions to prevent infection – just as things were before March 2020.

Well as for me, I am going to stay isolated from humanity until I test negative. Take that, ~~you fucking nasty virus~~ Covid-19. You die with me! Ummm….I mean YOU DIE but not me. Ugh, I’ve been sitting at the computer way too long. Time for my next dose of Tylenol and my 3rd nap of the day.

Cheers! Stay healthy and keep those elbows up!

The WB

What’s On Your Plate Blog Challenge – Staff of Life Edition

On September 1, 2021September 2, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, COVID-19, Good Times, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors, What's On Your Plate73 Comments

This is going to be somewhat of a looong story and a picture-heavy post so I hope you don’t mind. If you do mind, I don’t mind – so feel free to click away. My introduction to this recipe started way back at the beginning of the pandemic, when my good friend gifted me the most delicious loaf of homemade bread you could imagine. Jonathan somehow secured not only flour but yeast (remember those days?) and told me that this bread was not only insanely good, but insanely easy to make. He was 100% correct on both counts. His recipe came from the New York Times, I believe…and there are a bazillion versions of this bread recipe floating around Ye Olde Interwebs. Even recipes for gluten-free ~~doorstops~~ loaves, which I have tried (and failed ~~miserably~~ at).

The loaf that started it all. In my old kitchen, back in Ontario. March 26, 2020

Despite having issues with wheat (not gluten, but something else in bread), I can digest this bread just fine and without pesky heartburn. I think it is the very long rising…something that doesn’t happen in a production bakery. Anywho, here is the recipe (adapted by me from a gluten-free one I found somewhere…) told in pictures for this no-knead rustic bread loaf; pandemic and/or lockdown not required.

You will need:

3 cups of flour plus a little extra for dusting
3/4 tsp active quick-rise yeast
2 tsp kosher salt (I don’t see why you couldn’t use regular salt)
1.5 cups room temperature water
measuring cup and spoons
large glass bowl (Why glass? Does yeast hate metal/ceramic/plastic?)
wooden spoon (Don’t ask me why it has to be wood. Aesthetics? The anti-metal thing? I don’t know.)
Dutch oven
tea towel
parchment paper
cooling rack
oven (duh)

Mix dry ingredients together. The wooden spoon does look nice though…

Add room temperature water and mix (with pretty wooden spoon) to form the dough. Cover with tea towel and let it do its thing for at least 8 hours (overnight works well). In winter when the air is drier, I make the tea towel damp first so the dough doesn’t dry out too much.

Amuse yourself for the next 8 hours. I made and served a blackberry trifle for my son-in-law’s birthday. I think he liked it. 😉 (Completely optional but if you do choose to do this, invite me over 🙂 ).

What it looks like after 8 hours of rise time. Finish admiring the magic, and then take a large piece of parchment paper and dust it with flour.

Take the dough out of the bowl and mound it up on the flour-dusted parchment paper. I pre-crease the paper to make it a bit easier to fit back into the bowl, and eventually the Dutch oven.

I usually put it right back in the bowl again once it’s on the paper…so the dough doesn’t spread itself out over the paper too much over the next hour. You probably don’t have to do this. But it bugs me, OK? *There, I said it*.

Cover and let rest for 1 hour. Meanwhile, pre-heat oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. When oven comes to temperature, place the empty Dutch oven (with lid) inside oven to pre-heat for at least 30 minutes.

Very carefully place the dough (in parchment) into the extremely hot Dutch oven. Can slash the top of loaf several times with a knife, ~~if you actually remember at the last damn minute.~~ Put the extremely hot lid on it, and put in the whole shebang back into the oven to bake for 30 minutes.

The loaf looks like this after 30 minutes covered bake time. Remove the lid (careful!!!!) and let the loaf bake uncovered for the final 15 minutes.

Cool the finished loaf on a rack. Resist eating it because you made it to share with friends, for lunch the next day. (Optional, but highly recommended! Your hips will thank you for sharing. 😉 )

Next day: Go on glorious hike with friends, on Hornby Island.

Take in the views: Helliwell Provincial Park, looking east.

Helliwell Provincial Park, looking west.

Me, trying to enjoy the view and *not* think of the tasty food waiting for us back at Ann’s place. Photo by Donna.

~~Finally~~ – Lunch time! Photo by Donna. Ann (between Janis and I) provided us with the most delicious Maui chicken and sides, and I provided the:

Homemade bread! And it was mighty tasty. I’ve made this recipe many times now, and it has never failed me ~~except for the gluten-free experiments that we really shouldn’t talk about anymore~~.

So…enough about me. What’s on your plate this month?

As always: please feel free to let my co-host Donna or myself know what’s on your plate at your house, in the Comments of either Donna’s or my post (or both, if you are so inclined!). My partner-in-crime Donna has crafted a beautiful post about food and friendship (a theme I have shamelessly incorporated into my own post, in a minor way). Please check out her post, to read more about the many happy hours spent sharing meals with friends over the past month.

Remember: if you decide to blog or Facebook or Instagram about it, to use the tags #whatsonyourplateblogchallenge or #woypbc so we can find you out on ye olde interwebbs!

Rock on,

The WB

Lead with Your Heart

On July 10, 2021July 10, 2021 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Good Times, Roadtripping70 Comments

For at least a year now, I’ve been looking to support more women-led businesses, when I ~~want~~ ~~need~~ want to purchase something. And for the past six months I’ve been trying to do the same for Indigenous-run business. And when I come across them and they are good (and so far, they are ALL good), I will talk about them on ye olde blogge. For some of these finds, look here and here (Indigenous AND women-run).

I learned about WestCoast Wildflowers & Company on ye olde Instagram quite a few months ago…I saw that they were following Sequoia Soaps (Indigenous women-run company from Quebec) and was excited to find a related business just “up the road” from me here on Vancouver Island, in Campbell River. At the time I became aware of them travel outside my local community was discouraged due to rising numbers of Covid-19, so I filed this tidbit away under “later, in better times”. And just recently I learned of Raven S ong Soap and Candle…also located in Campbell River; also run by an Indigenous woman. A road trip to Campbell River was written in the stars!

I asked adventure/camping/blogging buddy Donna if she wanted to come along and the answer was a resounding “HELL YES”. So off we went, vaxxed to the max and ready to rumble. According to Google, the businesses were practically next to each other in Campbell River but what we didn’t know (and Google didn’t either, apparently) was that both had very recently moved to new, larger locations. So as an added bonus, we got to explore more of downtown Campbell River than we had anticipated (a very good thing!) and got to speak with some locals in our quest to find these businesses.

First stop: West Coast Wildflower & Co., where we met delightful, bubbly business owner, Ali.

L-R: Yours truly, Ali, and Donna in front of the West Coast Wildflowers & Co’s new location. We wore masks when entering the local businesses, but removed them for the photos.

Ali stocks local and (mostly) Indigenous-made clothing, accessories, food, toiletries, toys and crafts in her bright, spacious store. Donna and I immediately gravitated towards, purchased and donned the Totem Design House shirts you see in the photo, and were stylin’ twins for the rest of the day. (Honestly, we didn’t intend to coordinate our bottom halves either but there you go…) Here’s a closeup of the gorgeous shirt design:

Chatting with Ali and trying on shirts was hungry business we found out. The ever-helpful Ali suggested Jiggers Grill, also Indigenous-run. Which we didn’t get to (next time! ) as we came across Seabreeze Food Truck (another Indigenous-run eatery) first and made a wise decision to stave off the “hangries” by stopping the car and checking it out.

I had the Fish Taco salad (L, with mango salsa) and Donna had the Halibut Caesar salad (R). Both excellent choices!

Refuelled, we sought out our next (and final) destination: RavenSong Soap and Candle! Little did we know when we arrived that the store had opened for the first time in its new larger location just 30 minutes prior! Another bright, beautiful, well-stocked retail operation with another bright, beautiful owner: Valerie.

From L to R: owner Valerie, Donna and myself. Yes, we bought these shirts too!

Here is Valerie, talking about her soap-making and inspirations.

My “haul”, as the young ones say. Including the beautiful Ghanian basket. Soaps, bath bomb, candles, moon cake, soap holder, shirt and a bear bell (for my hiking pack).

Home again and ready to try out these products. Maybe using them will actually spur on some real Pacific rain??? We desperately need it.

Close-up of the unwrapped July Buck Moon soap. So gorgeous!

Closeup of detail of the moon cake. Sorry for the poor focus. Got too excited and threw it in the tub before checking the photo…LOL!

Dissolving moon cake in tub. These are the coolest things ever and I need to buy more. Post-soak, my skin feels amazing. See my Instagram post for the video (that WordPress refused to upload)!

Both shops (actually ALL shops mentioned in this post) offer online shopping. Please do go check them out if I’ve inspired you to do so. You won’t be disappointed. 🙂

Rock (and shop) on,

The WB

Everybody’s A Comedian: a Canadian Healthcare Story

On June 5, 2021June 5, 2021 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Hmmm?83 Comments

Last week was not that great in family news for yours truly. After having a wonderful time in Tofino, I came home to find out that: my Ontario brother-in-law (my late husband’s sister’s spouse) was in the hospital with cancer in multiple places in his body; one of my Dutch uncles had died after a long struggle with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s diseases; and my baby sister (who lives on the mainland of British Columbia) had passed out at home and was taken by ambulance to hospital (she has multiple health issues that she is dealing with, including being treated for breast cancer). Well, at least I don’t have any health issues at the moment…or so I thought.

Smite me now, Universe!

Let me give you some background. Last September, I noticed that I was having some issues with my eyes. I kept seeing what looked like little black bugs dancing in the corners of my vision…but these weren’t real, I soon realized. And I had a huge floater in my right eye…so huge I nicknamed it my nictitating (or 3rd) eyelid. It would travel slowly back and forth across my entire field of vision just like…well…how I would imagine a 3rd eyelid would.

This is what I mean by a 3rd eyelid.

I called a local optometrist for an eye exam. After a thorough workup, he said he didn’t see anything troubling but was going to pass on my information to the eye doctor’s office upstairs just in case and that I should expect a call. Which happened, and soon I had an appointment to see her the next month. It’s now October. More tests during my appointment…nothing major was found I was told, and I was sent home with instructions to call back in 3 months, for a follow-up.

By now the “black bugs” had disappeared, which means they probably didn’t but my brain just got used to them and starting ignoring them. However my “3rd eyelid” was still very much active. I dutifully called in January at the 3 month mark and was told the eye doc was booking into March. Which begs the question: if the office knows they are booking 3 months out, why didn’t they make my follow-up appointment when I was there in October? Hmmm???? Oh well.

March comes and I get a call that due to unforeseen circumstances my appointment has to be moved to April. OK, I go in April…have all the same tests done again…doc says I have blood in my eye (Very nonchalantly, I might add. Is this my floater?) and she wants me to see the eye surgeon who comes to the island every Friday from Vancouver.

An appointment is made for May. Then cancelled by the office and an appointment made for June. Then cancelled by the office and an appointment made for July. Whatevs…me and my 3rd eyelid are used to this, by now.

Then last Friday (to cap off the week of bad health news, I guess), I get a call from the eye doc’s office apologizing for the short notice but the eye surgeon has an opening today, he thinks I might need laser surgery, and could I be there in 2 hours? Sure, I said (hiding my shock that we went from nonchalance to needing laser surgery in an apparent heartbeat). You need to have someone drive you home as you will have drops in your eyes, they said. I was planning on walking over, I said. Will that be OK? Yes, they said.

Off I trudge to the clinic (25 minute walk away from my house). Where I am told the doc is 45 minutes behind schedule, given a pager by the tech (henceforth to be known as The Gatekeeper) and told to wait in my car (thanks, Covid!). But I walked over, I said. Luckily there was a chair positioned outside the doorway, so I sat down in the vestibule and started reading a book on my phone. Almost 2 hours later, and after watching multiple individuals with ringing pagers approach The Gatekeeper to be let in, it is finally my turn.

I stand in the front of the door with my noisy pager, and The Gatekeeper stands in the open doorway facing me.

I was just ringing your pager to see if it was still working, he deadpans. I crack a tired smile and ~~give him the finger~~ shake my fist at him. He hands me a brand new mask and tells me to head upstairs to the eye doc’s office. Where I undergo more tests and am given the previously foretold eye drops. Then I wait yet again (inside this time) to see the man of the hour – the eye surgeon – thinking that he is going to look at my test results, discuss treatment, and a further appointment will be made.

Yeah. No. That’s not what happened.

Doc comes into the dark exam room, where I am sitting and looking at a computer screen filled with Day-Glo^TM images of the interior of my eyeball. He examines my eye, all up close and personal.

I wanted to see you today, he says, because if we waited until July I’d be seeing you in the operating room.

Oh, really?

You have a retinal tear and I am going to do laser on your eye to sear it shut.

What!? Right now!?!

Yes, right now. I’m going to lower the back of your chair. Lean back and tilt your head up. I’m going to push on your eye...

Next thing I know he is pushing his finger in between my upper eyelid and socket like he wants to pop my eye out (spoiler: he does want to), and is shining a bright light (the laser) in my eye with his other hand.

No let’s go over the risks of the procedure. No here’s a waiver for you to sign saying you understand the risks and won’t sue the ass off me later. No see the receptionist on the way out to book the laser surgery. It’s Wham Bam, thank you for your eye Ma’am! time.

Thirty long painful seconds later, it’s done. I had but mere moments to contemplate whether or not I was locked in a dark room with a madman who gets his jollies by blinding the people trapped therein, with his trusty shiny laser light. I had absolutely no time to come up with a conclusion let alone a possible escape plan.

I was helped back up to a seated position and told my vision would be black but would come back. Which it did, very quickly. Still in somewhat of a state of shock, I was told an appointment would be made for me to come back in 6 weeks for a follow-up. (Ironically, for the same date I was supposed to be seeing him for my oft-delayed first visit.)

He sends me off with this post-laser dictum: And don’t pick up the boxing gloves for the next 4-5 days, OK? The tear needs time to heal.

I stumble home, in a daze. What the fuck just happened to me?

Everybody is a comedian, in Canadian healthcare it seems. Which reminds me of what a nurse in Emerg told me last fall, when I was there for esophageal spasms (a long boring story culminating in a gastroscopy, severe gastritis and hiatal hernia diagnoses, and daily acid-control meds). He offered me something called a “pink drink” or “pink cocktail”, I forget which – a concoction of pepto-bismol and an analgesic, to ease the burning in my food pipe. (Correction, thanks to my sister the nurse: It’s called a Pink Lady).

Throw it back like a shot of tequila, he says. I know you’ve had experience with those.

OK, he’s right. But how did he know? The man only just met me.

Rock on,

The WB

p.s. It might be too soon to call but I think my 3rd eyelid has gone bye-byes.

p.p.s. This is my 3rd post in 4 days and I am not even doing a blogging challenge. It may never happen again. You might be sorry or relieved to know this. I’m not sure which one I am.

p.p.p.s. Maybe I should have subtitled this “A BC Healthcare Story”. BC healthcare seems to be as relaxed and casual as everything else is, here on Paradise Island. I’m definitely not in ~~Kansas~~ Ontario, anymore! 😉

Tea Party on the Patio! #virtualteaparty2021

On April 15, 2021April 15, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, COVID-19, Home Improvement63 Comments

Okay, okay…technically I don’t have a patio. I have a balcony. But I have it tricked out like the fiercest patio you can imagine…or at least it WILL BE once Jeff Bezos sends me a coupla more items. I came close last year but due to my arrival time on the island and pandemic-induced scarcities, last summer’s effort was lacking a few items that I had deemed necessary for peak enjoyment. And I know it’s only April, but we are very very close, people! Already! (If you’d like to see last year’s balcony, click here.)

I managed to get my hands on a couple of baskets of fuchsia this year…and I got some really great lights, to replace last year’s ~~misguided~~ valiant attempt at solar lighting for my north-facing space. So excited for my new patio lanterns!

I’m still waiting on a privacy screen for the railing, and comfier cushions for my benches, and some plants (impatiens, maybe…) for my railing planter box and then I’ll be done…uh, I think.

Here’s Balcony 2021 so far, with improved lighting! “Those patio lanterns, they were the stars in the sky….”

By the time I got to Vancouver Island and was settled enough to go plant shopping (early June of last year), all the hanging baskets of this shade-loving plant were completely GONZO. I was SOL, for 2020. So I leapt at the chance to pick up these beauties at Ye Olde Superstore this week.

There’s a problem though, with these baskets. Can you see it?

It only took me a day to realize that when it came to watering these babies (I have 2 of them), I would also be watering my bench cushions. EVERY. DAMN. TIME. What to do, what to do? Surely there was a ready made solution out there? Yes gentle readers, there was. In glorious see-through plastic, and in Jeff Bezo’s garage…otherwise known as Amazon. Hmmmm. I thought I might be able to MacGyver something mahself instead. So that is just what I did.

Is it still technically MacGyver-ing if you picked up some ~~shit~~ stuff at Ye Olde Dollarama? Asking for a friend. Astute, long-time readers will notice that I remembered to pack my dick pillows, when I moved to Vancouver Island. Once seen, never to be unseen…

Not too shabby, eh? Cheaper AND prettier!

Actually it only took the galvanized tins and the large S hooks to create these drip catchers, so I have the other ~~shit~~ stuff handy for any future MacGyver-ing I might be inspired to do.

By now – if you are still reading – you are probably wondering what all this has to do with a tea party so I’ll get to the point. THIS. It’s this:

My first cuppa of 2021 on the ~~patio~~ balcony! Accompanied by a warm banana oatmeal muffin.

I decided that overripe bananas were taking over my limited freezer space so that means only 1 thing around Chez Badass: time to dig out my tattered copy of Muffin Mania and make me some muffins! I used this recipe:

GOOD? Wow. I really waxed rhapsodic over this one, didn’t I? After almost 40 years, this recipe still is GOOD. Oh, and I used butter instead of margarine. And gluten-free flour instead of wheat flour. And quick oats instead of rolled oats. And I forgot to add the baking soda.
AND. THEY. WERE. STILL. GOOD.

It was only when I started filling the muffin cups that I vaguely remembered that this particular recipe makes way more than a dozen muffins. Eighteen, in fact. You’d think I could have written that down at some point, next to “good”.

The final half-dozen, fresh out of the oven.

The thing is, banana is not my favourite flavour in baked goods. But somehow this recipe works for me. I think the oatmeal ~~tones down~~ balances the banana flavour a bit. And using gluten-free flour gave these muffins a delicious cake-like texture that I don’t remember from when I made them with regular flour.

So if you came to my house in April we’d be sitting out on my balcony under the new patio lanterns, drinking tea and eating banana oatmeal muffins. And singing this song:

Yes, I would make you sing it along with me. Start practicing, because I got my first dose of Covid-19 vaccine this week. (Whoop whoop!)

Rock on,

The WB

P.S. Thanking the lovely hostess of the Virtual Tea Party, Su…go check out her blog and see what she is serving this month!

We Interrupt Our Regular Programming…

On February 7, 2021February 7, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, COVID-19, Good Times, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors89 Comments

In lieu of the annual blog posts on Barbados that occur at this time every year, (there’s a global pandemic on, don’t you know) Widow Badass Industries brings you instead some views of the west coast of our local island paradise. Specifically: Ucluelet and Tofino. My daughter and I spent a couple of days there recently. And here’s what we saw and did.

Morning view of Tofino Inlet from Tofino Resort and Marina (highly recommend staying here).

We headed to Ucluelet first. My first visit. Won’t be my last! We decided to experience the Lighthouse Trail.

BC trees are like none I have ever seen in Canada. On the Lighthouse Trail.

Rock formations and islands in the misty distance.

On the way to Ucluelet, we passed a sign in Pacific Rim National Park that said “Rainforest Trail”. That was our next destination.

The Rainforest Trail did not disappoint.

When not staring at the trees, the chevron pattern on this platform caught my eye.

Tried to capture the sun rays in the woods.

After the Rainforest Trail, we had worked up an appetite so it was off to our favourite Tofino eating establishment, to refuel before our next adventure.

Every day is (Taco) Tuesday in Tofino, as far as I’m concerned.

After lunch, it was time to check out our favourite beach (Chesterman) and soak up the delicious sunshine we had been blessed with.

Pinch me. Is it really February…in Canada???

It was lovely to just sit in the sun and watch the surfers (and parasailers and windsurfers) enjoying the beautiful day and high waves.

Checking out the waves (and other surfers).

It was so pleasant out, we stayed there all afternoon and waited on the sunset. It did not disappoint.

Two surfers left; packing it in for the day.

And finally, the last of this day’s glorious light.

It wasn’t Barbados, but it was pretty damn fine all the same.

Rock on,

The WB

P.S. I posted multiple videos of this adventure on Instagram. Why not head over there and check them out? (Sound on!)

It Was But A Trifle, M’Dear #virtualteaparty2021

On January 15, 2021January 14, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, COVID-1975 Comments

Firstly, apologies Dear Blogge for abandoning you lately. See, I’ve kinda been hibernating a bit – going inward as it were – and then there was all that horrible business of last week happening to our neighbour to the south, and well…my muse took a much longer holiday as a result.

So, Christmas happened and please allow me an indulgence here as I post about a baking ~~mis~~adventure from way back then. I really did plan to post about this in a more timely fashion. However, THAT never happened. So I humbly offer this as my entry into the first virtual tea party of 2021.

Allow me another indulgence to give you some backstory. The very first trifle I ever attempted was for a Christmas staff party at my work, back in about 1983. I know – ballsy, right? I was full of youthful energy and ~~conceit~~ confidence then and thought: how hard can it be, really? Cake, pudding, whipped cream, fruit, booze. Throw it together in a dish. Done. I had been intrigued by a recipe in Canadian Living magazine for something called Black Forest Trifle, and decided that was what I was going to bring.

Back in those childless, early-married days, I thought nothing of spending a whole day in the kitchen whipping up any recipe that caught my fancy so the fact that these instructions had you make EVERYTHING from scratch didn’t faze me in the least.

I brought the trifle to the potluck and added it to the other offerings. I don’t remember much of that particular meal except that at the conclusion, the big boss/owner of that particular lab asked “Ummm…who brought the trifle?”

I froze. This guy…Dr. Whatsisname…was English as all get out. What was I thinking, bringing my first attempt at England’s national dessert (it is, isn’t it?) to this ~~goddamn lunch~~ affair?!?! Dr. Whatsisname (sorry, I really have forgotten his name) continued in his plummy accent…”I consider myself to be something of a connoisseur when it comes to trifle. Who made this one?” I gulped and hesitantly put up my hand.

“Oh?” he continued, appearing mildly surprised that “the baby” of the lab – his youngest employee – had pulled off this culinary feat.

“I have to tell you that this is the best trifle that I have ever tasted.”

WELL. I hadn’t seen THAT coming in the armageddon of embarrassment scenarios that had been flashing before my mind’s eye since he asked about the trifle. This proved the recipe was clearly a keeper and I painstakingly wrote it in my smallest handwriting onto not one but two recipe cards (I told you everything had to be made from scratch) and hung onto it for thirty-seven long years. And naturally, I never made it again (sigh).

Until this Christmas.

First up, a few days before Christmas I made the almond macaroons to crumble onto the cake and jam layers.

Uh oh. This is not going well. At least they tasted good and they were going to be crumbled up anyways. Onwards…

Then I made the chocolate sponge cake.

No way to rescue this leathery pancake of a chocolate mess. Into the composting bin it went.

Hmmm. I don’t remember any of this happening the first (and only other) time I made this recipe.
I *don’t usually eat candy canes, but one of my neighbours had stuck one in the mini-stocking I hung on my apartment door, and it seemed like the thing to do as I pondered my next move.* *Besides, it was too early for day-drinking*, *~~even for me.~~*

It was Christmas Eve and there was no more time for ~~fucking around~~ experimentation. I ran to the grocery store and got the supplies I needed to pull this thing off.

After my first 2 fails, there was no way I was going to attempt the custard from scratch. Wise decision. Note offending recipe in the upper left corner.

The cake turned out wonderful – hallelujah! I spread it with cherry jam and had enough for 2 dishes. One got splashed with rum; the smaller one got only cherry juice. In case (gasp!) someone didn’t want to have the boozy dessert. Like my step-grandkids.

Next I added the “crumbled macaroons”. A-hem. Moving on.

My custard turned out perfect. Thank you Bird’s Custard Powder, for having my back! I put the trifles onto the balcony to keep them cool until the next day, when the rest of the assembly would happen.

Next day…on Christmas afternoon: Bettie Page the Kitchen Aid (she so sex-ay!) whipped the cream for me. Good job, Betts!

Whipped cream, chocolate shavings and almonds added. Seashell Jesus arose from my basement storage unit to oversee the final touches and approve of the finished product. If ever a dessert needed divine intervention, this was it. His expression and body language seems to say: Really, girl? How could you have fucked up this recipe?
~~I swear I saw him raise an eyebrow at me.~~

Because of the pandemic, Christmas was going to be a bit of a drive-by visit rather than an actual one. In the late afternoon, I packed up the trifles and Christmas goodies and brought them over to my daughter’s place. They had my step-grandkids with them for the holidays (from the ~~plague-land~~ mainland, so the decision was made that it be best we stay apart unless we could meet outdoors, for the duration of their visit). I exchanged the trifles for containers full of 3 days’ worth of Christmas dinner deliciousness, and went back to my place. The trifles were very well received. Although no “best trifle ever” accolades were forthcoming. Those are still held by the fresh berry trifles I made last summer.

Does anything taste better than a Christmas dinner you didn’t have to cook yourself?
I think not.

And there went another Christmas into the history books…and one for the history books! All things Covid-19 considered, it wasn’t that awful and certainly not the first Christmas I have spent alone.

There was only one thing left to be done, though.

In case I EVER get inspired to follow this recipe again. I am at a loss as to why it didn’t work this time. From “best trifle ever” to unholy mess…Burn baby, burn!
Perhaps I left out some vital instructions when transcribing it all those many years ago???
I will never ever know…

Thank you for allowing all these indulgences…and for joining me in this month’s Virtual Tea Party – hosted by Del and Su.

Rock on,

The WB

What IF Jesus Was A Girl?

On December 18, 2020December 18, 2020 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Hmmm?68 Comments

Looking back on Ye Olde Blogge, it seems like December has brought out the rant in me in years past. I thought this year might be different seeing as I am now retired and living in Chillax Central (AKA Vancouver Island, British Columbia). Pandemic notwithstanding, I have little to rant about.

Or so I thought.

Yesterday I happened on Facebook (I know, my first mistake…sigh) and up in my feed came a cartoon meme being shared by a female pastor I know and respect, despite not sharing her Christian belief system.

Here it is, with the original poster’s details erased, to protect the guilty:

*Ya know, I think I possess a pretty good sense of humour. And if you regularly* read my blog you know I’m not afraid to “go there” when it comes to seeing the humour in all sorts of weird and wonderful things. But this post? I’m afraid I can’t see the humour in misogyny. Ever.
Well, at least the shepherd looks happy to be spreading this news…

I was shocked, hurt and dismayed to see this being paraded around as humour. By someone I thought would be as offended by this as I was. And I was just a wee bit TRIGGERED OUTTA MY EVER-LOVIN’ MIND.

I let the pastor poster (sorry!) know that this was upsetting to me and she made a general response that it was only a joke and we all could use a laugh these days. Stockholm Syndrome, much? I wonder…especially since a lot of other females joined in to reassure her that it was indeed VERY FUNNY. YES, A VERITABLE LAFF RIOT. Har dee fucking har har.

The Patriarchy is strong with these ones.

Which only triggered me further because I wish I had a dollar for every time a man told me (after insulting me or my gender) that it was only a joke, how about lightening up?; and by the way, you look way prettier when you smile.

So guess what, dear Bloggie? You’re gettin’ a rant for Christmas this year after all! It’s a Christmas-fucking-miracle. HAH!

I just couldn’t explain to this pastor how offensive and inappropriate I find this cartoon to be. (I was too upset. I still am.) How it reads that having a girl baby Jesus is lumped right up there with all of the terrible things that have happened in 2020.

What else could possibly go wrong? What next? OMG – YES! How very wrong – a girl is born to Mary and Joseph instead of a boy!!! Will this fucking year of horrors never end?!?!?

Or maybe – just maybe – the cartoon is saying that Jesus couldn’t possibly be born into a female body. How ludicrous, after all! I mean, really. The Daughter of God? It is not to be borne. Therefore a punchline of “It’s a girl!” means “no ~~soup~~ saviour for you”?

Well, gosh golly gee shucks, that ain’t funny to me either.

I wonder what the pastor would say if a little girl from her congregation came to her and asked her to explain where the humour is in this cartoon.

“I want in on the joke. What’s funny/awful/wrong about Mary having a girl baby instead of a boy?”

I want to know too. I’ll wait. I love a good laugh!

Well, while we’re waiting – Let’s play a game.

Let us imagine a world where Jesus was born as and/or identified as a girl. I know, I know. Awful, right? Bear with me. Hold my hand if necessary. How would that world look? I think the chatter around Girl Jesus would go something like this:

Girl Jesus throws over the moneychangers’ tables in the temple: Why do they always have to get so emotional? This is why you can’t put them in positions of authority. Looks like someone’s on the rag, again. Yeah, someone needs to get laid.

Girl Jesus changes water into wine: That’s not how you do it. Here, let me show you how it’s supposed to be done. I’m the expert on this type of miracle. What could you possibly know about this?

Girl Jesus enacts the miracle of the loaves and the fishes: This is nothing. You should see how my wife can stretch a meal when my cousins drop by. You call this a miracle?

Girl Jesus hangs out with prostitutes and the poor, not mention all of those male disciples: She’s a slut. I bet she spreads her legs for those followers of her every night. I heard she told them “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.” I’d like to enter HER gate – know what I mean? C’mon, baby! Come on over here and “save” your daddy.

Girl Jesus explains how she will be betrayed, at the Last Supper: As if! What a drama queen! Someone please put this bitch on The Real Housewives of Gethsemane.

Girl Jesus rises from the dead after 3 days: I told you she was faking. It was all in her head. She wasn’t really dying on that cross. She just wanted the attention. Crazy bitch!

Yeah, yeah, I know. None of this would ever likely come to pass.

BECAUSE GIRL JESUS WOULD HAVE BEEN STONED TO DEATH FOR BEING A WITCH AFTER THE FIRST MIRACLE. THAT’S WHY.

You know I’m right.

Not a scene about the stoning of a witch per se, but still funny as hell. Thought I should end the rant on an…um…sillier note. Because religion can be SO. DAMN. FUNNY. So lighten up, all you pearl-clutchers; this blog post is just a joke and we could all use a laugh.
Because 2020! Amiright??? 😉

Whew! I don’t know about you, but I feel better now. Ranting IS so good for ~~my damned~~ the soul. HAH!

Rock your merry little selves on,

The WB

December Culinary Faves and Fails #virtualteaparty2020

On December 17, 2020December 17, 2020 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, COVID-1953 Comments

My 2020 ornament. Slightly doctored by moi to make it more diverse than its original all-white format…including a 3-eyed alien. Because, why not?

Well, it wouldn’t be 2020 if I wasn’t having some tasty yet spectacular fails in the kitchen, now would it?

First up – my attempt to make a dupe for Claxton Fruit Cake. Gluten-free, no less. I kinda mashed together the best bits of 2 copycat recipes I found on Ye Olde Interwebs, and was generous with some Kraken.

One of two rather goopy, gooey, supersweet loaves.

This no-bake fruitcake tastes very similar to what I remember of Claxton fruitcakes, but is very sticky and goopy, and super sweet. I blame the sweetened condensed milk. It was definitely NOT THE RUM I GENEROUSLY EMBELLISHED THE RECIPE WITH. Next year I will use less of the milk and keep the rum…maybe even add more rum. So there.

I tried to use up all the fruitcake mistake as best as I could. Created a trifle out of the damned thing and foisted it upon my “bubble”. It was well received.

Other fails from this month include repeated attempts to make rustic, gluten-free loaves of bread, with yeast. Otherwise known as “doorstops”. No picture can capture the true extent of the denseness of these bread fails. The black holes of baking.

Moving on.

One of my successes was rum balls (requested by my daughter). Except I couldn’t get the chocolate hail to stick to the balls as I was rolling them in the hail. But you know what solved that problem? MORE KRAKEN. Hehehe!

TA DA! Holly generously provided by the bush growing beside my balcony.

And then there was my attempt to make gluten-free boterkoek (Dutch butter cake). I just subbed GF flour for regular – the rest of the recipe stayed the same.

At least it didn’t fall apart like my almond cake.

A little drier than if made with wheat flour, but still very tasty. And at least it stuck together.

And then there was an old standby (and much needed by this point): Homemade Irish Cream Liqueur. AKA Bailey’s. My only change to this recipe was to use an espresso shot instead of instant coffee. Because I has the technology!

I’m done baking for now. Until just before Christmas, when I promised to make a black forest trifle for the day itself. A recipe I haven’t attempted since I was newly married (the FIRST time) and ~~didn’t know any better~~ had the time and energy to create it entirely from scratch. Even the custard.

Pray for me.

Thank you for joining me in this month’s Virtual Tea Party – hosted by Del and Su.

Rock on,

The WB

Joanne Comes To Visit – The Gift That Keeps On Giving

On September 3, 2020September 12, 2020 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Good Times, I Got Married, Move to Vancouver Island, Roadtripping, The Great Outdoors, Travel Badassery70 Comments

About 3 weeks ago now, I had my first houseguest to my new Island home: my friend Joanne, of Following a Bold Plan fame. It is not an exaggeration to say that the Vancouver Island bloggers I know were practically jumping out of their skins with excitement in anticipation of her arrival (yours truly, included).

Within minutes of her aircraft landing, we met up with Erica/Erika of Behind The Scenery, and were exploring Island View Beach.

Happy smiles! This will be a theme throughout.

We spent a delightful 2 days in the Victoria area, with Erica and Chuck as our exemplary tour guides. Donna, of Retirement Reflections, joined us for a day of exploring beaches…

Once back at home base (Chez Badass West), we set up a loose schedule of hikes and explorations. Donna, living relatively close by, joined us for as many as she could. The weather called for 2 days of full rain, but we didn’t let that us stop us from getting out there.

Smiling and waving hi, from a damp hike at Englishman River Falls

Another smiley but damp hike, at The Notch in Nanoose Bay

Then Donna had some family obligations to attend to on the weekend, and we continued to hike and explore on our own.

Joanne snapping photos at Neck Point Park, Nanaimo

A visit to Nanaimo wouldn’t be complete without seeing Saysutshun. And being that it was Joanne and I, you know we were going to get into kayaks at some point!

Smiling behind our masks (can’t you tell?) on the ferry to Saysutshun (aka Newcastle Island), for some kayaking fun.

Joanne taking a break from paddling, to snap some shots.

The owner of the kayak/bike rental business on the island (Jeff) is a real character, as we found out. The lady who sold us the tickets to the ferry referred to him as “the man who owns no shirts”. Uh oh.

Laid back, super friendly Jeff is a throwback to the 1960s. We watched in amazement as he turned away at least 2 groups of customers who wanted to rent bikes from him. The first group was 2 guys who Jeff determined didn’t have enough time to experience the island by bike before they had to leave to pick up some friends at the Nanaimo airport. The second group was a family of 4 – Jeff opined after speaking with them that they would have more fun walking the trails than biking them, and thus that is what they did.

Ummm Jeff, can we have a word about your business practices please?

We were both so taken by this guy and his outsized personality. Wait, not out-sized but in fact perfectly sized for his out-sized physical self. See picture, below.

I asked if I could take his picture and put it on my blog.

Jeff: Sure you can! Uh, what’s a blog?

Next thing I knew, Jeff had his arm around me and Joanne was snapping our picture. Only after our 2 second encounter did I think: WTF did we just do?!?! There’s a pandemic going on!!!

Gentle readers, let this be a cautionary tale about how easily one’s guard can be let down…

So here we are many days later and I didn’t come down with The Covid, and I assume the same for Jeff. Dodged that bullet, thankfully. Why do I feel like a teenager who just “got away” with having unplanned and unprotected sex? What a world we live in now…

Jeff, our Hulk Hogan-ish purveyor of rental kayaks. He is best described as the love child of the famed wrestler and Tommy Chong. What the hell was I thinking???

On the (last) Monday of Joanne’s visit, we made good on a long-planned trip to visit Ann of The Unretired Life on Hornby Island. Donna and Erica were able to join us as well!

On Hornby Island, with our host Ann. Photo by Erica.

More smiles. Helliwell Provincial Park, Hornby Island

The next day was spent in a luxurious visit (also long planned) to the Grotto Spa at Tigh-Na-Mara, in Parksville. No pictures were taken due to spa policy but I did pick up a very pretty nail polish with my spa credit so here’s a photo of that. At $25/bottle, it had better be spectacular.

The photo doesn’t really do the microglitter justice. It is gorgeous. Message in a Bottle by Deborah Lippmann. The *Pandemic Nail Salon* approves of this purchase – see my IG posts for my adventures in doing my own dip nails. 🙂

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, it was the 2nd last day of Joanne’s visit, and our last hike…to Jack Point.

Donna, myself, and Joanne. Last hike (for this visit), at Jack Point – with Nanaimo in the background.

Refueled and rehydrated at Penny’s Palapa, a floating restaurant in the Nanaimo Harbour – a delightful après hike experience! Man, those were good margaritas and fish tacos…

For more photos of these adventures, please check out my IG account: @widowbadass.

So, why did I put The Gift That Keeps On Giving in the title of this post? Well, Joanne introduced me to her secret weapon for air travel and, as it turns out, drowning out noisy apartment neighbours – Bose noise-cancelling headphones! She let me try them on, and they work very well.

After only 3 hours of sleep the night before last (thanks to the Stompy McStompersons living above me and the Party Bros down below), I headed out to Best Buy to get my own pair. Thanks, Joanne! More about my “adventures” in apartment living in an upcoming post.

And they work great! Problem solved, for now…

Come back soon, Joanne! We all miss your smiling face (me, most of all)!

This last photo is just for Joanne 😉

Apropos of nothing, today is the anniversary of my wedding to JD. If he was still alive, we would be married 10 years today. Or would we (still be married)? Hmmmm…

Rock on,

Your friendly neighbourhood Widow Badass