A couple of weeks ago, I was privileged to be at the launch of Pam William’s new book, Raising the Bar:  The Future of Fine Chocolate. Co-written with Jim Eber, Pam’s hot off the presses book is a highly informative and interesting  examination of what the future may hold for fine chocolate and those who are attempting to preserve its unique and diverse flavours. As Pam sees it a bit of a crisis is happening out there in the world of fine flavor cacao.

When my kids were in elementary school, I used to look forward to Hanukkah, even though I am not Jewish. But we are fortunate to have dear friends from Isreal whose kids are the same age as ours, and every year, the wonderful Havi would go into the kids’ classrooms to tell them the Hanukkah story (she didn’t pull any punches – they got the whole story of Mattathias and the Maccabees) and to prepare a feast of potato latkes, and the most delicious jelly doughnuts I’ve ever tasted, that Hanukkah special – Sufganiyot.

It is December 1st.  The cats woke me up early, even though this is a Saturday, and I would have liked nothing better than to sleep in, since this is a two-show day ( I am currently performing in the Arts Club Theatre’s production of It’s A Wonderful Life), and I am doing everything I can to recover from a nasty bout of laryngitis. But, since they did manage to get me up at a dark 6:45am, once I had fed and watered them, and given them their required stroking attention, it seemed fruitless to go back to bed, only to have them meowing at the door in indignation.

Well, it’s cold, again.  That “crawling up your back, hunching up your shoulders, why didn’t I put on the big bulky sweater, I can’t feel the ends of my fingers” kind of cold. November has come to us in full force and although I wouldn’t normally welcome facial hair, I have been looking almost enviously at my male friends who are sporting moustaches for this month, in support of prostate cancer research and programs and men’s mental health initiatives. 

Today is Remembrance Day here in Canada. Our coats are sporting the poppies I remember from childhood, sponsored by the Royal Canadian Legion – I don’t think the poppies have changed in all the years I can remember, and the challenge is always to get them to stay on your coat without poking you, or falling off. Part of the fondness I have for this ritual is buying the poppy from the veteran who is more than happy to patiently guide you through the technique for poking the pin back through the poppy itself.

I hear a thundering, heavy sound, I look out the window … and another rain storm has begun. I am in the week between closing one play and beginning rehearsals for another and have the desire to curl up in a chair in my pajamas, learn my lines and stay out of the rain, which has been pounding down for the past week. And in the middle of it all was Hallowe’en.  I usually love Hallowe’en .  

I didn’t blog last week, as I have been steeped in rehearsals for a very special play:  My Mother’s Story.  We are a cast of eight women, telling the stories of ordinary women’s lives – except that they are all extraordinary. The call went out last year, to women on Vancouver’s North Shore, to write the story of their mothers’ lives, in 2000 words.  From all who sent in stories, eight were selected to be woven together into a play.  So we, the actors, each play the writer and her Mum.  The stories range geographically far and wide, and cover many ethnicities. 

This week, I am fortunate to be in rehearsal with some incredible women, working on a new play:  My Mother’s Story. The director we are working with is asking us to use senses and muscles I haven’t used in years. I come home from rehearsal every day very tired … in a good way.  We are working very physically, almost dancing in some parts and since most of us are NOT dancers … there is a lot of laughter.

I am going out to dinner tonight. I am excited. I am sure the food will be well-prepared, and it will probably be visually appealing, but I won’t know that. The newly opened restaurant where Younger Son, the Vocal Eye audio description team (we do live audio description of theatre performances), and I will be dining is called Dark Table, and we will be eating in the dark, as a blind person would. 

This weekend, I am heading off to a celebration of long-lasting love and commitment.  Two dear friends are celebrating their recent marriage after having been together for many years, and this to me makes it all the sweeter.  They are dear, caring, private people who have raised a beautiful child, and worked together through many health issues, and it is an honour to be part of their special day of celebration.

Is there a better combination? There is a bakery in this city that makes a delicious, small, buttery, flaky chocolate croissant that is to die for.  They also don’t make very many of them, wisely not wanting to be stuck with day-old croissants, and increasing their appeal by their very limited daily quantity.  I make a pilgrimage into that bakery whenever I am down on Granville Island:  the reason is often an audition, and I have on occasion walked into said audition with delicate crumbs and morsels of melted chocolate clinging to my mouth.