Monthly Archives: December 2010

Simple soup for lazy days and runny noses.

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When I was a kid, there was nothing quite like the way one of my mom’s aromatic soups would fill the house and give me a sense…home.

From the most complex bisques to the simplest of recipes with no more than a little stock, some pasta and a few root vegetables, I’m obsessed with how a warm bowl can make me feel. And this week has been no exception.

Rob and I have been cooped up in our house most of the holiday. We’re both sick and hibernating, watching movies and playing classic Nintendo (check out this site - addictive stuff.) I’m not a big fan of staying indoors for too long though – I’ve not much of a homebody – I’ll admit it’s nice to just enjoy our kitchen and get cozy in the kitchen.

Today I made this soup (see above?) with whatever we had left in the fridge and pantry.  It turned out to be just what we needed to make us feel a little less “cooped” and little more cozy. Wishing you lazy afternoon and relaxing nights.

Love,

s

Sandy’s Simple Soup

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 cooking onion, chopped
1 large sweet potato, cubed
2 c kale, chopped (I used frozen kale to make life a little easier)
8-10 ripe cherry tomatoes, halved
12 c of stock (I used a mix of chicken and vegetable for added flavor)
1/2 c turkey sausage (optional, but I love the smokiness it adds)

spices:
-1 tbsp garlic powder
-1/2 tsp chili flakes
-sprig of fresh rosemary (or 1/2 tbsp dried)
-salt + pepper to taste

What you do:
In a saucepan on medium heat, sautee  the onions and give them a sprinkle of salt (to get the juices flowing) and add the chili flakes. Allow the onions to become translucent and soften before adding the tomatoes. Allow them to soften, too. Then add the cubed sweet potato and let all the veggies cook down for 8-10 minutes (watch that the onions don’t burn!) Then, add the kale, sausage and allow it all to stew down for another 5 minutes (your kitchen should start filling with the best aroma by now). Add the stock and spices, give the soup a good, sturdy stir, then let it simmer for 50 more minutes (this is the hard part… because it smells so good). But be patient. It’s worth it.

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i didn’t always get paid, but it was worth it.

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I didn’t always take the jobs that paid over the years, but I’d like to think that I took the ones that paid off.

With this lazy week in between Christmas and NYE, many of us (hello, me!) are just taking it easy and not doing much work (although… I am, for the next issue of the magazine). So I thought this would be a good time to whisper into your ear that, in 2011, you have some big decisions to make. Yes, I’m talking to you.

So, what does it mean to have a job “pay off”?

For me, it meant seeing my name in print (as a writer), so I took a volunteer position at my university paper. My first story, I tracked down a student walking around campus barefoot to raise awareness for homelessness. That article was published  in 20,000 copies of the school newspaper within a week. Oh the thrill of it! I remember grabbing a paper hot off the news stand, dashing away into a corner and then reading every. single. word. in slow motion, absorbing every second of this cool, new experience. And even though writing that piece meant that my english essay would be two days late, it was worth it.

Eventually I was hired at the school paper as the News Editor, or rather I was voted in. It was a democratic system and every editor voted in the next editor and so on. To this day, it’s one of the few systems I’ve seen actually work in a collaborative and creative environment. Go figure.

That initial unpaid opportunity at the newspaper turned out to pay off in more ways than one: First, I was hired to join the editorial staff and gain invaluable experience and a training ground in journalism. That job helped pay for my car, which took me to and from school, news stories, internships and gave me a sense of independence I never thought possible.  That exposure in the school paper landed me my first ‘real’ freelance job for NOW magazine in the Spring of 2002. From there, as they say, the rest is a blur.

Just kidding.

But seriously,that journalism experience in my college years later translated into PR jobs (that helped me pay my way out of school debt), which led to more freelance writing jobs in Web and marketing. Everything I’ve ever done in Web and in marketing/PR is paying off in big ways lately, as I navigate through new writing, editing and public relations projects. In fact, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This blog helped three key people find their way to me, which led to some pretty great opportunities in 2010. So yes, I’d say my time and sweat equity has paid off.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not sharing any of this just for the sake of putting it out there or to put some positive spin on how difficult in can be make your mark in a new industry. Whether you’re a new grad or a 30-something making a career-switch (like so many professionals I know) the secret is taking on the right amount of unpaid work that goes onto a lasting (and eventually paid) opportunity.

But beware: that doesn’t mean you should undersell or underpay yourself for too long. At some point, you have to pull the trigger and declare your passion or skills a job – a paid job.

To do that, however, you have determine your work’s worth, but be humble and realistic and fair when you do. Too often I see really incredibly creative and talented people short-sell themselves simply by taking only paid jobs and then never being called again because all they cared about was the paycheck, not the experience or the networking. In and out, wham-bam, thank you ma’am!

Lesson learned: There are times when collecting for your talents is nothing more than a quick transaction, and the long-lasting results (like a full-time writing job) just won’t be there. So be wise.

Trust me, it’s worth it.

****

Here’s a link to an interview I did for a cool site called, “Human Detour”. I’ve posted a smidgen of it here on the blog before, but here are all three parts… (you have to click on the arrow to get the next two vids.) It’s the story (mostly) of how I became a full-time writer and got un-stuck in 2010. I hope you enjoy, and think a lot.

http://www.humandetour.com/sandy-braz/

Love,

s

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just thinking out loud.

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We’ve been trying to stay somewhat productive the last couple of days, so that we don’t go into a state of shock when we get back to “real life” in the new year. We’ll see how that goes.

Today I found my dvd of “Grease” stashed away in a box in our basement. I ordered takeout, swept the floor, tidied the kitchen and made a fresh batch of hot chocolate for us to sip on while watching movies. Not bad for a lazy day, huh?

I also managed to put away some new pieces of jewelry in this cute box I bought on our recent trip to Niagara on the Lake. The pieces of jewelry are nothing expensive, just some fun accessories I’ve picked up along the way.

Just this summer, in fact, my Great Aunt who lives in Portugal sent me some really unique earrings that she bought in her hometown. They’re gold in color, with blue jewels, and they’re even a little weighty. I plan to take them out for a night on the town just as soon as the opportunity arises. Could be as early as tomorrow or as late as New Year’s Eve, I suspect.

I remember my mom had a jewelry box of her own when I was growing up. She had a few, actually. Each one unique in their own way, but almost always rectangular in shape. I used to spend hours just hunting through them, placing chunky jeweled necklaces up against my chest and clipping on earrings and brooches and bracelets and then posing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. I made so many daydreams there.

Sometimes, I’d ask my mom questions about her jewelry, like where she got it, how long she’d had it and someday would she give it to me?  I think she liked that I liked her things, to be honest. It meant we had things in common, even if they were just loving a few pretty jewelry pieces. For a mother, that’s priceless.

This evening it dawned on me that a pair of little fingers might run themselves through this very jewelry box someday, searching for treasure and making her own daydreams in the mirror.

Yes, it dawned on me.

But just a thought is all, nothing to read into here – no baby announcements on the way or anything. Just a little introspection.

With so many of our friends expecting their first babies this spring (total coincidence) I can’t help but have cute kids on my mind from time to time- in a few months, they’re going to be everywhere! I’m looking forward to it, actually. Watching our friends become parents will be out of this world, I know it.

Just writing out loud,

s

Ps: That ever happen to you- have you ever watched change in progress?

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because of cristina.

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Songs are a lot like food: in no time at all, they can take you back to another place.

When my sister and were really small, a young woman named Cristina came to live with our family. She was 21. A new mother and wife, Cristina came to us in the 80s from Portugal – a country not exactly known for its stable economy or employment market, then or now.

My mom had just returned to a day job after a few years raising my sister and I full time. By chance, my parents had friends desperately trying to get their niece to Canada to make a decent living for herself, so that she could support her family. That niece was Cristina.

For six years she helped raise us. She bathed us, changed us, disciplined us, cooked and cleaned for us, played with us, read to us, made us laugh, dried our tears, scolded our bad behavior and dressed us for the ice rink. But most of all, Cristina loved us. And we loved her.

I remember she had the smoothest skin that smelled like fresh cork – soft and earthy. She had the thickest black hair, a ton of beauty marks and the longest legs. She was the tallest person in our house. And in a household of short people, that was useful.

Those first couple of Christmases away from her family were tough. I remember her crying – big, fat, round tears – while talking to her husband on the phone while she could hear her 2-year old daughter coo, 6,000 miles away.

I was so young then, I had no idea what this young woman sacrificed to give her family a better life.

Her first year in Canada, Cristina learned English primarily though my sister and I, soap operas and the radio. I always got a kick out hearing her sing in English, trying her best to hum the lyrics she didn’t know and enunciate the ones she did.

This was her favorite song. She would belt it while washing the dishes, between bites at the dinner table (and sometimes during), while walking us to school or just while it was playing on the radio, which was her favorite, because she would squeal, squeeze my little shoulders, then turn up the music.

I love this song, not because of Christmas, but because of Cristina.

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sunday night chatter.

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(what i figured out in 2010) -

I do, have and will continue to make excuses from time to time, about the reasons why “I can’t”. We all do it, despite our best efforts. So, I figure the best I can do, since I’m going to make excuses anyway, is work at proving my excuses wrong.

A year ago I told myself that I had taken more than a few wrong turns these last few years since graduating university – whether or not I am right is irrelevant. What matters is that I don’t think that anymore. So being wrong was right. (that’s not supposed to sound like secret code, sorry).

I think that failure at new endeavors, big ideas that turn out to be brain farts or passing on golden opportunities that could have accelerated your career are ways we try getting closer to the things we desire. Sometimes we miss, sure, but at least we missed while trying to prove our excuses wrong. And, by default, that kind of courage can’t be faulted.

Fail often; fail smartly; fail gracefully – that’s my mantra for the remainder of 2010 (but I don’t plan on chanting it or anything.  it’s just a thought).

*While looking back at a few photos I have on Facebook, I came across this one realized it was taken about a year ago, right around this time. I love when that happens – when you look at the a photo around the anniversary of when it was taken. …something special.

This photo was snapped at a very confusing time in my life – a necessary time, but an uncomfortable one nonetheless. But now I sit here looking at it, and realize that this photo was also taken at a time when things started to change for me, and head in a really good direction.  I’m glad I have a snap shot of that time saved on the blog.

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