Rainy day fun

I grew up on the prairies of Canada where there was a good chance you would be “snowed-in”, for a number of days every winter. Sometimes it was just the school being closed, other times it was already a weekend or vacation day and the snow and cold left us house bound. So our winter routines included lots of inside activities to hold us over until better weather returned.

We did go outside and take advantage of the snow, (not so much the cold). Once the wind chill was down to minus 20 C, my parents would let us stay in. And that is what I loved. Doing stuff inside.

As expected, “old habits die-hard”. I still really enjoy working on projects and activities inside the house. (However it is now the heavy rain that drives us inside, not snow and freezing temperatures.) My list includes:

  • cooking big batches of stew in the slow cooker, the house taking on the fragrance of my creation, (currently we are deep in Mexico with a double batch of salsa)
  • reading, having that perfect spot to curl up in with perfect light, where the hours can slip by
  • organizing – I know how weird this sounds, but I like to spend time getting papers in order, taking care of my personal inbox, which is otherwise badly neglected by too much focus on my work inbox
  • knitting, so many things to knit, so little time as I knit slowly and with limited skills
  • sewing, much easier to do and has been a standby for me since I was a child
  • photo albums, used to be the actual touching paper photo’s but has been replaced by iPhoto, just as fun
  • writing – too many projects on the go
  • Spanish lessons
  • watching movies and TV, netflix and iTunes have been amazing

Then there are the things I want to do, but either don’t know how and/or don’t have the space to work on:

  • stamp collection, started as a child and is packed away
  • coin/money collection, same as above
  • beading – actually adding beads to knitted projects
  • quilting
  • crochet
  • paper crafts, my daughter would love this, but we need more supplies, more space to lay everything out, more time

There is more, I’m sure, but these come to mind right now.

In my dream house by the water and in the woods at the same time, I have a studio. All my creative pursuits will be set up and easy to work on any time. Once inspiration strikes, I will be ready to create. For now, I share every corner of this house with 3 other people and 2 of the smallest ones take up so much space wherever they are. Their little voices, the barrage of questions and problems or a scraped knee which needs a kiss.

Before I know it the little ones will be bigger, grown up and gone. I’ll miss their presence and count the days for their return. I’ll miss the way they could fill a room. They made the house feel alive, that is how I will remember these days.

So for now, I steal moments of creativity when I can. I pull out a project from a bag that has been tucked into a corner. I knit a few rows, or pull my computer off the shelf and write a few words. This is how I feed that part of my soul while my children still need so much from me.

It is all about balance, not too heavy to either side.

Web_rain collage

Stolen weekend

It should not have been so nice. Unheard of. The air was so warm, you didn’t need another layer as we scooted along the lake. There was not a drop of rain.

Must be hard to guess where I was, surely nowhere near the Coast. Yet, only 3 hours from door to door. A place where you can cross into the USA and not need a passport.

Web_Floating stall

Ross Lake campground is on the Canadian side, nestled into the North end of Ross reservoir. The mountains rise sharply from the lake like fjords, along all sides, so crossing into the USA is not possible. All the park rangers for the US camp sites come around through Canada to enter their park. (A weird piece of trivia).


The reason so many people visit this park, is the ability to enjoy the back country in a relatively pristine state. Something that is becoming harder to find in North America and impossible in Europe. It is areas like this that we treasure.

Web_Glacier water

We went early Saturday morning. Friday night was a pre-teen dance that could not be missed. Gone are the days when the adults set the schedule. However, we managed to be up early and arrive by mid morning. The sun was warm and welcoming.


But something else was waiting for us. The mosquitos. Oh my gosh, these were crazed little bugs. They gathered in swarms and could fly faster than you could run. Clearly they had missed the memo – it is too late in the season for such vicious insects. (Just had to stop and madly scratch my ankle). Apparently the mosquito takes no notice of the date on the calendar….hello…it is September, back to school, no biting insects allowed! (have to stop scratching soon, there will be blood otherwise).

Web_fall leaves

After the blissful hours in the sun and running the gauntlet back through the forest path to our camp, the typical evening rituals were enjoyed. Nice smoky fire, cooking dinner on a stick, swapping stories. It was most pleasurable to hear my children tell their jokes and indulge us in their secrets learned in camp and other places over the summer.

Then it was winding down. Time for bed. This is the part of camping that always makes me so happy to be home. But my husband insisted that we sleep in our HH Warm baselayer, sleeping bags and extra wool blankets. Once I was in my cocoon, I found it extremely comfortable.

I guess the expectation and preparation for bad weather, the menacing bugs, the love of nature and the need to spend time outdoors, are all things that make us Canadian. In fact, it is probably what most people have in common, or at least the ones that are lucky enough to experience it.


Small town

The first thing I used to ask when arriving to a new place was, “how many people live here”? It was an important thing to know when where you came from, was less than 5,000 residents.

That town was a place called Devon, Alberta. I attended most of my elementary grades there. Those are formative years. They help set your character. What kind of adult you will become grows out of that time.

For me, those were very happy days. The town had a kind of innocence. Modern life had not really bore down on us. We lived through the ’70’s in much the same way as decades before us had done. Because I didn’t know any different, life was good.

Robina Baker Elementary School circa 1977

Robina Baker Elementary School circa 1977

Then, my Dad’s job took our family to Calgary. That was the height of the super high mortgage rates in the ’80’s. Times were tough for many families. Homes became worth less than what was owed to the bank. People were forced to walk away, having to completely start over. While my family was not badly effected, these were problems that had not really touched any of us back in our small town.

And so it went. I was getting older, becoming a teenager, time to grow up and understand what was going on in the big city. Those years in Calgary taught me all of that, (and probably some stuff I’d like to forget). Then a funny thing happened. Back to Devon for grade 12.

So here I was graduating high school with many of the same folks I had played with on the elementary school ground. It was a little strange at first, but I fell back into that small town life pretty easily.

After high school I kicked around the area for a year, working and trying to see if I fit in. In the end, too much time had passed and something was pulling me back to Calgary. In truth, I really only applied to post secondary schools located in Calgary. So the odds were pretty good I would be moving.

Through a series of events, with the program I was taking in Calgary, the school was forced to close and I ended up moving out West to finish my education. Little did I know then, my heart would be captured by Vancouver. First by the beauty of the place. Then the weather. And finally, meeting my husband.

But somewhere down in my soul, I was a small town girl. Luckily my husband sort of felt the same. And we couldn’t afford the city anyway. Now that we can afford to live there, we won’t move anyhow. There is something about a small town that is very special.

It was that particular brand of Alberta small town charm that my daughter has been experiencing this week. My Aunt has been giving my daughter the opportunity to live the way I used to. My daughter was marvelling at the freedom she has. Her bike is the locomotion and she is free to roam. And she likes it. I asked her if she was concerned about getting lost. She says, “it’s too small to get lost”!

Kids tractor races

Kids tractor races

On Canada Day, my daughter joined a family outing to an even smaller town in Alberta called Rosemary. In fact, it is a village. But no matter. There was a parade where candy was thrown a plenty. A tractor race for the kids. Tractor pulls for the grown ups. Food and drink and celebration. Everyone talks to each other, like a big family. To me, that is the core strength of a community. Which is probably why people stay.

Always makes me think of the Hal Ketchum song – Small Town Saturday Night.

Flying alone

Air Canada logo

Thank-you Air Canada. I don’t think that gets said enough.

I trusted my 2 precious children to the care of the unaccompanied minor program today. The whole experience was fantastic.

Being a very well-travelled person, I thought I knew a few things. But I had a glimpse today of another side of the process. Most airlines, I think, offer a program to assist people who are in need. Today, we needed that help.

We arrived at the airport, with more than enough time, according to those guidelines that are printed with your confirmation. You know the bit about 90 minutes ahead for domestic travel? We needed that today.

The process is well designed. It is difficult people who mess things up. I won’t go into the details of that here, (defeats the purpose of this blog). Suffice to say, that is what 115 minutes ahead of departure is for. Waiting in line behind difficult people who complicate the situation every time they open their mouths. But, Air Canada did their best and had the “special” people on their way.

And that is why I like this airline. For me, in the far-flung corners of the earth that I find myself, when I see the Air Canada logo, I feel one step closer to home. Who else would I trust the care of my children to?

The funniest part of this story happened in Calgary. My sister and Aunt had signs printed with my children names. One for my son and one for my daughter. My son’s name is Fisher. I have only known one other boy named Fisher, it is extremely uncommon. But today, a young man went up to my sister and gave her a big hug saying that he was Fisher. I’m not sure if he really was, but my sister gives a great hug.

So all is good in the world.

The girl next door

Last week, there was a discussion at work about consumer profiles and the characteristics for “the girl next door” were being described. I was amazed to learn that I have become HER.

I spent so many years trying on other personas. There were the rocker-chick years. Then my early University days were spent trying to perfect the high-powered, corporate, business, pant-suit type. Then I switched to design school and it all changed again. The bohemian, free-spirit, creative type came into play. There was a constant search to be someone and look a certain part. I was clearly not comfortable in my own skin.

But that is one of the perks of getting older. I am comfortable now. And whilst I never thought I wanted to be, “the girl next door”, there is nothing wrong with her.

As if “the universe was conspiring to help me”, writes Paulo Coelho writes in The Alchemist, I came across a blog post this morning that describes this new age “girl next door”. Sheri Salatin, who writes for Polyface Hen House was describing me to a tee. Somewhere along the line, this is who I have become.

What I find interesting about discovering someone else who is just like me, is a validation of myself. Maybe I have not found many friends that think the same way I do, in my neighbourhood. Now, with the help of the internet, I have easily discovered kindred spirits, in serious numbers. Who knew?

Here are some of the characteristics of the “girl next door”:

homebody - humblebea

Humblebea Gnomes

  • Homebody – this was a real problem for me because everyone thought clubbing was the only way to meet men. But I thought, intellectually anyway, that there was no kind of drunk man I wanted to meet at a club. I met my husband at the beach, probably the only place on earth where you can wear less clothes than a night club. And probably one of the few times I sported a bikini!
  • Family values – probably closely linked to liking home base.
  • Confident – this can be tough for a young woman. Easily misinterpreted as standoffish by other women. Men find this quality off-putting, they prefer a woman who needs them.
  • Nurturing – a great quality that young woman need to grow into to become comfortable with.
  • Low maintenance – I have never understood the hours and hours of make-up, hair and other primping ceremonies so many women go through. If I’m going to spend hours at something, it will be a massage. I think a 3 dressed up as a 9 is a waste of time.
  • Straight forward – no games. I could never be bothered to make-up elaborate stories to make a man feel more confident so that I looked weaker for it. As I get older, my husband does appreciate a little softening here.
  • The buck stops here – this is an adage that I learned early on and really took to heart. I’m not going to pass blame, I’ll do everything I can to fix things and try to create solutions to problems.
  • Likes to have fun – within the context of all the values above. Travel, meeting new people, have great experiences – being at ease with changing circumstances, finding the bright side of things.

Disclaimer – this is not to say that I portray these characteristics all the time. In fact, my husband may argue that the girl next door is more of a latent attitude. In any case, this gives me hope for the woman who I am becoming.

Heirloom knitting

A valuable object that has belonged to a family for several generations.

Families here in North America used to be different. A young woman setting off on her new life would have a chest full of items that her Mother would have set aside for her. Many of the pieces would likely be heirlooms. They would be used and treasured and then passed on again, in due time.

Sometime recently, (within the last fifty or sixty years), most people give away old things. Instead, they covet brand new purchases, in glossy wrapping and a branded carry bag, from a store. More than likely, these items, (and all the components within), have travelled a very far distance. Hundreds and maybe thousands of people have been involved in the manufacture, distribution, selling and marketing of any one item.

The more popular idea of “heirloom” is often associated with vegetable seeds. A growing trend of new age urban pioneers, are going back to the land to grow food. The old seeds have been saved and the resulting plants taste better, are more beautiful to look at and are very rare.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about this idea of creating heirloom products. I’ve been saving my own tomato and pumpkin seeds for years, with great success. (I even grabbed a handful of poppy seeds from a neighbour, as I walked by!) My sister’s sweet pea’s will adorn 2 areas of my garden this year. Every time I walk by their sweet scent, I will smile and think of her. But can a Mother really expect to have a wearing apparel item passed down and appreciated by her family? Even jewelry seems to go out of fashion in a relatively short period of time.

I’ve come to the conclusion that if I might want to have something passed down through my family, it needs to be of a certain quality. Then I take a quick cruise through my closet and realize, there is virtually nothing in there that could become an heirloom. Almost all my clothes are disposable. Purchased from mass retailers, relatively “trend-right”, these things will not pass the test of time.

The few potential pieces I own are fabulous jewelry, hand-made by my Aunt. (One day, when she is a famous designer, they will be highly coveted pieces, even outside our family.) So I recently turned to my Aunt for help.

I had come across a fantastic pattern for a wrap from the blog of Purl Soho in New York City. Purl Bee published the details for an Amazing Seed Stitch Wrap. The yarns could easily be purchased from the link provided and I could have been half-finished by now. But, in order for this to be my piece, I needed to choose my own colors. That is near impossible to do online. Then there was the problem of the cashmere costing $50 per hank. (The project calls for 4 of them!)

As luck would have it, Gina Brown’s came to the rescue again. (I’ve written about the Calgary location before – “Increasing stash“.) So we made the pilgrimage to Kitsilano in Vancouver. With help from the actual Granddaughter of Gina Brown – Kristina, we created an array of colours and yarns that will be my signature wrap. And maybe, if I’m lucky, this piece will have stories to tell as it adorns the shoulders of women in my family as time marches on.

Gina Browns Kits_web

Gina Brown shawl_web

Yarns shown here, (from the left):

  • Glazed carrot – Malabrigo
  • (Peach) shade 0201 – Sublime
  • Lettuce – Malabrigo
  • Lavanda – Malabrigo
  • (Light lavender) shade 0011 – Sublime
  • Azules – Malabrigo
  • (Light teal) shade 0109 – Sublime
  • (Stone) colour 300027 – Debbie Bliss
  • Fresco Y Seco – Malabrigo
  • (Teal) shade 0227 – Sublime
  • Vaa – Malabrigo

More about these yarns:

  • Malabrigo Rios – Pure Merino Superwash, made in Peru
  • Sublime – 75% extra fine merino, 20% silk, 5% cashmere
  • Debbie Bliss – 55% Merino wool, 33% microfibre, 12% cashmere


“Everybody experiences far more than he understands. Yet it is experience, rather than understanding, that influences behavior.”   ~Marshall McLuhan

I think this would be a good summary of the book titled, “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened,” by Jenny Lawson. Some of her experiences make you laugh to the point of crying and some bring tears on their own. I suppose we all have tales to tell, but hers are a bit more extreme than mine, (not that this is a competition I am sad to lose).

If swearing is offensive to you, don’t read this book. But you might use a few profanities if you walked a mile in her shoes. If you are a smart ass, like to have the last word and think arguing with your husband is an OK thing, read this book. (Their arguments are epic and hilarious.)

If you love your family, even when they are acting crazy, this book is for you. Because, let’s face it, we can all act a little strange at times. And one can only hope to experience, but a few of the moments Jenny has, in a lifetime.

While I agree that these experiences are what define us as individuals, there are some things I would rather read about. My trials and tribulations of growing up, are not worthy of a novel. They are just not that severe or strange. But they molded my character, just the same.

I was describing one of the stories from Jenny’s life, involving a dead dog, at my hair salon the other day. One of the stylists jumped in with a story that had us all rolling with laughter. As far as I know, this is completely true.

A friend was looking after a dog for a couple that were away on holiday. I’m not sure if all parties knew the dog was not well and could die. We create a “DNR”, (do not resuscitate) order for our cat every time we go away. She has lived through 3 of those so far. But I digress. Anyway, this dog dies. Not a problem if you have a car. But this woman did not. So she decided to put the dog in a suitcase to take it on the bus. You meet some strange people on the bus, or so I am told. A random guy says to her “what do you have in that suitcase?” She replies, “some computer equipment”. (Quick thinking) Then the guy pulls the stop cord and STEALS the suitcase! She doesn’t run after him. Problem solved really.

Check out: The Bloggess by Jenny Lawson

Buttermilk mystery

I opened my eyes just after 8am this morning. Running through my mental checklist, before getting out of bed:

  • Where am I?
  • What day is it?
  • How do I feel?
  • What do I have to do?

Luckily I was:

  • At home, in my own bed, with my hubby and no children
  • Sunday, yeah!
  • Fine, effects of red wine and beer from the night before, non-existent
  • Have to – nothing, want to – make coffee

So I went to the kitchen and fixed the brew. As I was waiting for the machine to finish, I thought, I should cook off that applewood smoked bacon I have in the fridge. Then as I was waiting for the bacon to finish baking, I thought, I should try to use up some more of that buttermilk. By the time the bacon was done, the oven was turned up and double chocolate pumpkin muffins went in. With 18 more minutes, I washed up most of the dishes and finished setting out breakfast. What started out as making coffee – 5 minutes tops, had turned into an hour and a full family breakfast. And all because of the use-up-buttermilk-before-expiry-date problem.

It is a mystery to me why buttermilk is sold in 1L containers. I end up buying it for one baking recipe, usually calling for 250ml. Then the container rolls around in the back of the fridge until it spoils and has to be poured down the drain in a gross, clumpy and sour mess. And here I was baking again, only to use up another 250ml. Great, in a few days, I’ll only have to pour out half the container, instead of 3/4. What can be done about this?

I turned to google just now, (this is another example of how much I love technology), and it turns out you can freeze buttermilk. People measure off 250ml portions and are ready to bake without timing their baking recipes around the spoil date of the container in the fridge. What a great idea! Really wished I had thought to learn this before. In fact, I may have. Seems like something my Mother might do, but I had probably ignored. Too busy thinking about all the ways I was going to be so different when I grew up. (That is another, much longer story).

Anyway, my little family sat down to eat and we chatted about this and that. Nothing too different from any other day. And then my son mentioned that a Harry Potter marathon was going to be on TV this Friday. So our Good Friday plan was hatched around watching TV, favourite meals eaten together and everyone pitching in to cook. I’m pretty sure we would not have been able to fix this plan if breakfast was lone foraging in the kitchen. So thanks to buttermilk for getting us all together.

Breakfast Counter_web


Here is a link to buttermilk recipes gathered by Sarah who blogs at Pink of Perfection.

Food philosophy

I’m taking a Whole Food Workshop again this year, from the same lovely instructor Heather Bruggeman. She keeps a fantastic blog at “Beauty that moves“. Check out her thoughts if you are looking for inspiration.

One of the tasks in the first week was to write about my food philosophy. I had just finished my annual family ski week, and my thoughts on skiing and cooking easily came together. Strange how that sometimes happens.

Preparing food for my family is like skiing. I enjoy it, but it is tough going, leaves me exhausted, other people think I do it effortlessly. There is a peaceful feeling to be out in the snow and smell the clean air, same as my lovely kitchen with sharp knives and wood cutting boards, the smell from the stove. I can sometimes find the elusive rhythm on the snow where carving a turn is the most wonderful feeling. Plating a recipe with the freshest, tastiest ingredients, evocative smell, beautiful color and balance is a most delightful experience, but elusive just the same. But practice does count in both areas. Honing skills, paying attention to details, incremental improvements. However, the most important part of either skiing or cooking is to have fun. If I fall down after attempting a difficult run, or produce a somewhat less than spectacular meal, it doesn’t matter, the process should be fun, introspective, full of learning.

As I prepare new and interesting recipes for my family, I get a curious mix of responses. I eliminate certain dishes straight away due to known food aversions. But that list is always evolving. It is curious to see my daughter eat something quite well because it has no meat in it and my husband is fighting the same thing down because of the texture. (And maybe no meat).

Recently, I served a breakfast of millet, which has virtually no taste, so the extra’s were a must. My son, who has no food “issues”, could barely choke it down because it was so bland. Really?

Chick pea veggie burgers were a general hit on Sunday night. But my son was worried we were not going back to beef burgers, ever.

My challenge is to view all of this as success. Getting my family involved in what they are eating is the point. Understanding what is on the plate and asking themselves questions about where it came from, is it good for them, how much should they eat of it? Remembering to tread softly in the heat of battle, which is what it feels like when new ideas are met with a challenge, is hard to do.

Other ideas on food philosophy:

Ski for the whole family

Jerry Seinfield was quoted as saying, “There is no such thing as fun for the whole family.” I had never heard anyone dare to say what many of us have always thought. How can one activity, on one day, truly be fun for the whole family? This idea landed, for me, at a perfect time. I was breaking away from my parents as a young adult and wanted to create my own fun. So I did.

Then the problem landed right back on my shoulders when I had children of my own. I was not so smug now. This was a real challenge. What I came to realize is, family fun with small children, is fun for small children. The fun for adults is trying to enjoy themselves through their children’s fun. This works best with adults who are close family members. Trying to invite along some child free friends usually doesn’t work. They have not become masters of sacrificing themselves for these tiny little people who are running rough shot around your life.

Through a lucky set of circumstances, my sister and I decided to pick skiing as a family activity. We each pursued this within our own communities, but each year we came together for a week to ski. This turned out to be a good idea due to a number of factors. Things like willing spouses who also enjoyed the sport, (super important and probably a show stopper if they had not been skiers already), and parents who could get us free accommodations near a very family friendly, beginners ski hill.

Over the years, all 4 kids learned their turns and fully enjoyed the week at the local mountain. But, as these things happen, when you start kids early, they have a tendency to become so good, they pass their parents in ability. My sister likes to attribute this to confidence and no fear of falling and hurting themselves. Whatever the reason, the 3 boys that once used to follow us down the hill like little ducklings, are well into expert terrain this year. My daughter really applied herself to parallel turning in an attempt to catch up to the boys. It won’t be long and she too will have passed me by.

So we are in a very lucky position to have found something to do in the winter that is fun for the whole family. It required a lot of work, nurturing and care. Almost like another member of the family – the perfect ski run that we all yearn for each time we go up the lift.

Family ski

Other related posts:

Never Never Land

The best known resident of Neverland famously refused to grow up, and it is often used as a metaphor for eternal childhood, immortality, and escapism.

photo 1

I think a ski run named Never Never Land could not be more appropriately named. This run would need to be something that attracts certain kind of adventurous sorts. A place where one goes to feel young, always. Lucky for my son, such a place does exist, not just in his imagination.


Panorama Mountain Village ski resort is of average size for North America, with 2,847 acres of skiable lift-served terrain. This places it somewhere in the top ten in terms of area. It also has one of the largest vertical drops in North America, at 4,000 feet. In terms of continuously skiable vertical drop, it is 5th behind Revelstoke, Whistler Blackcomb, Jackson Hole, and Kicking Horse.

Panorama’s longest trail of 5.5 kilometres, Never Never Land starts at the top of the Taynton Bowl as a double black diamond steep narrow gully then widens out into a fast groomed tree lined trail leading to the Village.

photo 3

I have gathered all these fancy facts from the web, I will likely never go to Never Never Land. I think those days are over for me. Like Peter Pan’s lost boys, these places are for a certain kind of soul. They dream of the steep slopes that can only be accessed after a lengthy hike. These kind of conditions keep the rest of us away, it is not for the faint of heart.

My brother-in-law has not lost his younger, lost boy, in the process of becoming middle-aged. He has cultivated that spirit in his son and as a result of ski club this year, my son has joined this club.

It was a great ending to another family ski day. This time, 3 boys made it to Never Never Land, and they decided to grow up a little and come back to us.

I’m only a munchkin

2 definitions from the urban dictionary:

  1. Some one who is very small, not necessarily a child, just a small person. Generally used by people bigger than them.
  2. Creepy things from the Wizard of Oz that are either really brightly colored and often bear candy or are seen hanging in the background, if you look carefully.

My kids are in the school production of “The Wizard of Oz.” My son is playing Oz and we have been running lines every night. My daughter is playing a munchkin. One of many. I asked if she had any lines and she said no. We sing and dance.

This morning, there was a rush to get my son off to school, he is in the ski club and has to take all his equipment with him. We forgot one thing, I noticed after I got home, the script. I asked my daughter if she thought he could get another one at school, or if I should run the missing one over? She said, “I don’t know Mom, I’m only a munchkin”.

We always used that term as an endearment towards children. So not only is she playing one in Oz, but she looks just like a cute little person – a munchkin.

Corazón Cafe

Restaurant Review by: Fisher Brown 

Name Corazon Cafe
Address Revolución de 1910 385, Centro
La Paz, Mexico, Baja California Sur
Phone 01 612 128 8985

Corazon cafeHello, my name is Fisher Brown. Today I am going to be writing about Corazón Cafe, a nice little restaurant, about 3 blocks up from the Malecon. The first thing that I noticed when I walked into the restaurant was that it had a very wide variety of music. It had all kinds of music, from English modern pop, to Mexican music. The coolest thing about this restaurant was that it reminded me a lot of a restaurant I went to in San Jose Del Cabo, and was the one and only Cynthia Fresh. The last time I went there, it was very wide and open, and that was very much similar to this Corazón restaurant I went to. Another thing I noticed about Corazón was that they really embraced art. While I was there, I noticed a lot of sculptures. Colored lights lighted up most of them. Now onto my review on the food. I ordered red enchiladas, with cheese, and I think that the food tasted great, but I think it could have used a little bit of meat, maybe some chicken. But the most distinguishable feature of this dish was that most of the cheese was melted on top of the enchiladas. Now my favorite thing about this restaurant was that if you go here with you’re friends, you will get a portrait of you and your friends or your family. In conclusion, this restaurant is one of my favorite restaurants so far. –Fisher


corazon comic_web

I’ve eaten in so many restaurants over the years. Everything from very high-end, classy joints all the way to diners and fast food. Nothing can really surprise me, or so I thought. Until tonight at Cafe Corazon in La Paz, Baja, Mexico.

At the end of dinner, the waiter presented our table with an artist rendering of our family. It was amazing that someone who didn’t know us, was able to capture so much about our personalities in such a short period of observation. It was better than if a photo had been taken. He was able to piece together the best of each and paste it all together like it happened all at the same moment.

What a wonderful memento of the visit to Mexico, and this evening in particular. I’m going to frame mine.