Saturday I eagerly anticipated following a recipe for dinner. Sure, I love the freestyle approach but how luxurious to let someone else do the thinking for me!

Tomorrow is an historic election in Canada. Over Easter weekend, the advance polls were flooded with people who wanted to make sure they made their mark early to avoid the rush. And tomorrow, I can only hope we’ll have a big turnout, surpassing the tepid figures of recent elections.

Voting tomorrow will be the ultimate ‘elbows-up’ demonstration.

But there’s something else you can do too to show your Canadianism. You can subscribe to CBC Gem.

Why is it that springtime uncovers bags and bags of Tim Hortons cups, Sour Cream Onion Ruffles bags, German Shepherd-worthy poops, and, curiously, a department store mannequin?

I went to my favourite European supermarket, Yummy, for a couple of Polish things I’d been missing. I left the store with a smoked turkey drumstick. Jack often brought me a whole smoked chicken from his Polish deli. I’ve missed it. As I used to with the chickens, I had in my mind turning it into pulled meat by slow cooking the turkey in the crockpot in a BBQ-style sauce.

Obesity, size‑ism and sexual assault are intricately linked. We’re making progress on sexual assault. Why not size-ism?

They say it makes you relax. But it stresses me out. Yup, I’d sooner lie there in silence then suffer through the endless bloody undulations of spa music. It makes sense when I think about it. And I had a long motionless thinking session a couple of weeks ago.

As with many Canadians right now, I’m trying very hard to eat Canadian food. I typically eat seasonal food so it’s likely a little easier for me than for many. For example, you’ve read my views about eating asparagus in months than in June! In this meal, I tried extra-hard and came up with a pretty decent repast, if I do say so myself.

Everyone — family, friends and literally strangers on the train — has weighed in. Suggestions have ranged from recommendations to use cancer cures from other cultures; to methods to ameliorate symptoms that Jack has not experienced; to ways to boost aspects of regular health that doctors have told us risks spreading the cancer faster or reducing the impact of chemo and radiation. 

It’s a moment when many grip the armrest or cut off the circulation in their partner’s hand. Surprisingly, given my low tolerance for risk, I love it because it signals the start of an adventure and every adventure worth having makes you feel a little anxious.

This time, as the Airbus 330 accelerated down Pearson’s runway, the dark opening cello bars in the 2nd movement of Beethoven’s seventh symphony resonated from my ears right through to the bottom of my feet. And tears wet my cheeks. Not tears for fears (just for my GenXers), but from melancholy.