Helllooo my poppies! What a gorgeous weekend that was! I hope you put it to good use, whether you spent it golfing, gardening, cycling or protesting. Did you protest? I did not, which is to say I didn’t march, but I’m proud to say I supported the cause with my wallet, and I would encourage you to do the same, particularly if you and/or your partner have been lucky enough to remain employed during the pandemic. I wouldn’t normally use this blog to promote activism, but I wouldn’t normally do a lot of things I’m doing these days, like wearing a mask, and not seeing my friends, and having the odd, sporadic panic attack. The times they are a changing.


You may heard a conversation Darren and I had last week with my friend Charmain Emerson. Charmain is a black Canadian of Jamaican descent whom I’ve know forever. She went to school with my sister, lives in same neighbourhood as me, and has three sons the same age as mine. We’ve worked and partied together, and I consider her part of my inner circle, such as it is, but, as I recently realized, to my dismay, I have never asked her about her experiences growing up and raising a family as a black woman. Our interview was profound and revelatory, and her story is an eye opener. You can click the link above to hear it. It’s a serious topic for Char, who, it must be noted, is one of the most fun-loving, energetic forces of nature you’ll ever meet. As a postscript, I should tell you that I saw her on Friday, along with her husband George. We socially distanced over cocktails in our backyard. She told me two of their sons had taken part in the protest that afternoon, and Charmain would not let them leave the house until they had the right placards, properly constructed, spelled correctly, with the appropriate message printed carefully on both sides. She probably packed them a nutritious lunch as well. Come the revolution, you want to be on Charmain’s side.


And now to the email bag: thank you, Rosemarie and Bridget, for your thoughts on anti-racism. Thanks to Margaret, Vann and Pat B. for your good wishes to Ronan, our newly minted university graduate. Pat is also trying vegetarianism on for size, and says her husband’s cholesterol has changed dramatically (for the better). Adele is aghast at the high cost of meat, and Gayle also had a brutally expensive evening at Harbour Sixty. Carol and all her friends are turning 60 in what has become the Year of No Celebrations. I got lots of love from Raija, Rowan, Anne and Diane. Jennifer sent me some ideas for what she calls Boozesicles (yes, popsicles made with booze), and last but not least, Glen wants to send his love to his wife Jaki, a front line worker, on June 9th, which will be their 30th anniversary. I’ll do what I can, Glen, but you’d better have some plans of your own.


Inspired by Jennifer, I will leave you with a recipe for Orange Basil Mojito Pops. You can make them for the whole family; just leave the rum out of the ones for the kids, because that’s wrong.


1 1/4 Orange Juice (fresh squeezed is best)

8 tsp sugar (or honey)

3 tbsp lemon juice

3/4 cup water

8 mint leaves

8 basil leaves

Rum (as little as 2 tbsp, but you can go to town if you want. I won’t judge)


Put it all in a blender, then pour 1/3 cup into each popsicle mold. Freeze for at least 4 hours, and Bob’s your bartender.





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