Tag Archives: sandyb blog

CHEW ON THIS! it’s thursday.

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Did you know Thursday is the new Friday? Sure! Here’s a perfect (and super simple) recipe for making a romantic Kir Royale. My favorite.

Anyway, on with the show! 5 little nuggets for you:

1. Internetting early this morning (that’s not a word, I’m pretty sure) I came across this recipe that would be perfect for a kid’s birthday party or, hey, maybe even for a girl turning 31 next week (oh yes, it’s that time of year again!)

2. I swear some of my professors in university had secrets like these… but who could blame them? Little fact: I didn’t start going to on-campus bars and pubs until my last semester! Why? No idea. Something about all that silly studying got in the way, I guess.

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3. For the last several months, I’ve been the fitness and lifestyle blogger for Danone Canada. Whether you’re into yogurt or not, there’s something for you on there, promise. If you’re in the mood over your morning coffee today, here are 5 tips for a healthier workday.

4. The cyclist-automobile wars continue in Toronto. Neither side is right, although I think both sides could follow the rules a bit better, no? If you are on a two-wheeler in the city though, here are 18 great city bikes to choose from. This one is my favorite because it reminds me of my shiny blue Vespa.

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5. Rob and I will be in New York over my birthday and I can’t wait to go to SUMMERSTAGE! My good friend, Krista, will be performing with her dance company, Border Crossing Collective. So excited! If you’re in NYC next weekend, this is where you should be.

Love your Thursday,

S.

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the thing you cannot do.

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My sister often gives me the kind of advice that no one else knows how to. She tells me the hard things that I don’t want to hear, but must. Like bangs. She’s over my bangs, she says, so I’m growing them out on her suggestion, because I think she’s right. I really do. She’s not always right, but she’s always honest with her opinion, which is hard to come by in people. Don’t you find?

Today, I asked my sister her opinion on a few options I have on my plate right now. Good things, but options that require some thought and weighing. I needed some insight.

My sister does one of two things when I ask her important things: she either confirms what I was thinking, making me even more confident in my decision or she introduces a completely different side to things, which gives me a more full view of my situation and better able to make a good decision about something. How lucky am I, right? I know.

Usually after a great talk, my sister and I will email each other an article or quote or encore thought about the topic later in the day. This quote, by Eleanor Roosevelt, was my sister’s choice for me. I read it this afternoon: “You must do the thing you think you cannot do”.

Just wanted to share it with you all.

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love, love, here I am.

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Love. I’ve been taking photos of it everywhere.

Did I mention that I’m writing my first book about love? I’m sure I did. It’s all I’ve been thinking about…

Not just my first book about love, but my first book, period.

Does that put me in the league of self-centered writers? Let’s hope so. It’s about time.

It’s silly, but when I mention the subject matter of the book, I’m almost apologetic about it, like it’s the most over done, over written, over-discussed-to-death subject on Earth. And it likely is (other than sex, I would wager). But there’s a reason for that; love has such a definite place in literature – it’s truly universal. Like laughter and smiles, anger and sadness, there’s no mistaking when you’re experiencing love, no matter what language or culture or country you’re from.

Love is like that.

It hasn’t really fascinated me until know. Until this very trip to Paris; up until now, for me, love just was.

I’ve loved the same person for nearly 13 years.

I’ve decided that love is the only metaphysical thing that we need to bring us courage, respite and the motivation to not just live, but live well.

No matter how badly I have failed in my life – or how much failure still lies ahead of me in my tribulations as a wife and friend and daughter and writer (no order of importance, by the way), at the end of my day, I know that I am returning to a place of being loved and loving back.

It’s taken me until recently to truly appreciate the significance of that.

Not everyone feels love, and not everyone gives it; to have it be plentiful in my life isn’t something I want to let myself forget or take for granted; for me, the best way not to forget is, simply, to write it down.

That’s in the inspiration for my book.

I didn’t come to Paris to just write about love; I can’t seem to get to the bottom of why Paris and “love” are synonymous.  I don’t think I ended up here by coincidence though. I really don’t.

I came here to just write; to be alone in a city of millions and feel the things I’m most afraid to feel when I am in my bubble in Toronto.

Finding the street you thought you never would; taking the metro that you were once certain was built exclusively to confuse foreigners; stopping people to ask where the closest “bureau de poste” so you can send your favorite people postcards… there’s something to that.

And I’m getting to the bottom of it.

Love, love…here I am.

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Vintage in Paris.

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(above: belt with a peacock buckle; navy blue neck scarf; and a silk night gown – $12 euros, total)

 

The vintage shops here in Paris are truly something and, now that I have my eyes peeled for them, they seem to be everywhere, especially in the Marais, where I’ve been staying.

Toronto has a great vintage clothing scene, but it’s overpriced, to be honest. I mean, how much can someone realistically pay for a used pair of leather boots from 1973? Apparently, too much. But that doesn’t stop us from flocking to these shops time and time again in the hopes of finding something tres unique.

I think the appeal with vintage is, of course, trend and style, but it’s the the quality of most pieces too – most, not all.  (polyester, anyone?).

But there is a lot of quality vintage out there. You just need to know how to spot it.

(above: faux snake skin clutch; rope leather belt; and neck scarf…small tag reads “made in Brussels”)

 

The best part about vintage is truly the find. I mean, the chances of you running into someone with the same vintage jacket you have is, well, one in a billion (but don’t quote me).

I’ll be writing a piece on where to find the best vintage in Paris, but hope to sell the story to a magazine first. Fingers crossed, my friends. Fingers crossed – mama needs some baguettes!

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