my forays through love and other gastronomical stories

The Lesbian Chronicles: Signs — January 14, 2018

The Lesbian Chronicles: Signs

I believe in signs. As an incurable romantic, when I found a small diamond ring embedded in the snow this afternoon my initial feeling was one of joy, for what better sign for love impending then finding a diamond ring? However, on further inspection I realized that both the gold and diamond were fake.

Now how should I interpret this? My intuition tells me:

 Love is coming, though I must be judicious before falling, for I haven’t waited all this time just to be lulled into thinking she is the real deal then gutted when her glitter fails to sustain and the diamond is now clearly seen as the glass it always was.

Note to self: Listen to Joan Baez sing ‘Diamonds and Rust’.

I am a Lover — December 9, 2017

I am a Lover

The buzz word in popular culture right now is ‘Warrior’. I heard it first on a fundraising  commercial for a local children’s hospital, then I overheard my mother and sister use the phrase ‘I’m a warrior’, obtained most likely from the Tony Robbins weekend workshop they participated in this past summer.

Last night while watching my favourite episode of Survivor, where the remaining contestants see their family members for the first time in a month, I saw a commercial for the new movie ‘A Wrinkle In Time’. I watched as Oprah, dressed as a queen/fairy/witch implores the young heroine to  “Be a warrior!”

Why would I want to be a warrior? To be a warrior I must first be involved in a battle, and quite frankly, I am battle weary. In a war, there is always duality. A winner and a loser, the good team and the bad team, the victorious and the defeated. Instead of the duality of war, I am choosing the singularity of peace. I am discarding my fatigues for a cloak of many colours, working hard to negotiate peace through love.

If after much negotiation, my goal of peace through love can not be reached, I will walk away, taking solace inside my comfy cozy coat, knowing that in choosing love, I am  choosing not to abandon myself to the fragmentation that inevitably results from war.

The Lesbian Chronicles: You Reap What You Sow. — November 28, 2017

The Lesbian Chronicles: You Reap What You Sow.

I am co-habiting here in Montréal with my Mother due to a confluence of events much too complex to write about today, better saved for that proverbial rainy day blog.

Here is my mini version:

Years ago in a different time and place I was a practicing Buddhist. When the day arrived for my naming ceremony I felt quite hopeful, as I was attempting to rename myself from my given name of Rhona and my adopted name of Katharine to something else altogether.

I entered the temple and waited patiently for my turn, and hoped the Buddhist Name Goddess would be kind. My teacher gave me a blessing and named me ‘Sawjack’. I asked my teacher what my name meant and was told ‘You reap what you sow’. (This is where you insert that creepy music from the movie ‘It’ when the clown is about to do something very very bad.) At that time I didn’t understand the ramifications of reaping what you sow, today I most definitely do.

I have up until recently chosen only powerful but cruel women. Truth be told, their cruelty turned me on, but only in limited quantities. When they acted according to their character, I demanded that they treat me with kindness instead of cruelty.

“How did that work for you?” You might ask. “Not so well!” I answer. So here I am, living in Montreal with my cruel and powerful mother and certainly reaping what I have sowed which to be honest, is mostly manure.

C’est la vie! I have learned a lot and continue to do so. I am one of those irritatingly optimistic people who believe what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

‘Till next time,


Hot House Flower — October 16, 2017
1. Love — October 14, 2017

1. Love

I have had a migraine for the past five days, and when I’ve been ill like this, my normally bouncy self loses it’s resilience and just lies down flat, void of buoyancy and affect. The only antidote that seems to reboot my bounce are the three C’s: Caring, Comfort and Compassion. I haven’t run into those three C’s often in my life, partly by fate, partly by choice.

In partnering with women who replicated my mother, I enjoyed the negative pleasure of choosing cruel and physically powerful women who could double whammy me in both mind and body.

I’m so over that now. These past few months have brought me to my knees, the pain so deep it excised the anger and resentment I had been storing up for over 50 years.

I feel re-born, re-newed and re-invigorated. Despite my health challenges or perhaps because of my health challenges, I have re-prioritized what is important in my life.

Here is my list:

1. Love

There is no 2. because love is all that matters. Giving it, getting it, creating it.


There you have it, my mini manifesto.

Love is Love is Love.

Love Is Who I Am — October 8, 2017

Love Is Who I Am

This from Brene Brown,

‘You either walk into your story and own your truth, or you live outside of your story, hustling for your worthiness.’

I have always been that hustler, that hooker, that looker, offering up my body as a token of my admiration, beseeching her to love me through my trifecta of tools: shame, blame and manipulation.

Always dancing as fast as I can, all the while singing the same refrain stuck on repeat,  “Please love me. Please fill me. Please heal me. Never leave me. I will do any thing and be anyone you need. I will make your every wish come true.”

Hoping always that ephemeral, elusive feeling of safety would land on my right shoulder like a butterfly’s kiss, like a benediction.

But that was yesterday. After a lifetime of yesterdays, on this day of giving thanks, I can walk straight into my story, thankful to proclaim my own truth, which is this:

I am worthy of love. I am inherently loveable. I did not need to change my surname to Love. I did not need to lie prostrate on the floor, begging to be loved. I just needed to know, I just needed to feel, I just needed to own that my flawed and broken self has inherent value in this world. And it does, and I do, and therefore I am, extremely thankful.


Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Beauty Awakes! — October 2, 2017

Beauty Awakes!

 I’m in my second bath of the night, my bath being the only place I feel even somewhat comfortable, given this is my third day of suffering from a horrible cold.

This afternoon I was pondering why I haven’t felt disturbed that my mother did not called me today to ask how I am feeling, since I had spoken to her yesterday and told her how unwell I felt. This was a novel experience for me, since I’ve been keening for my mother’s love and acknowledgment for most of my childhood and certainly all of my adulthood.

I realized that I did not care if she asked how I was doing, because for the first time in my life, I’m actually taking really good care of myself. Such good care that I finally feel mothered by my own innate good mother who, like Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened after sixty years of slumber.

However, unlike Beauty, I was given the sole task of waking up my good mother self. This has been my life’s work, the challenge I have been grappling with for the last forty years. How do I mother myself when I was never shown proper mothering?

So painful was it for me to be unmothered that I put myself to sleep, allowing addiction to take the place of genuine nurturing. As I was healing my lifetime of disordered eating, I began to understand that my underlying addiction was to my mother.

I have felt totally captivated in her web of cruelty, unable to wrench myself from the negative pleasure I was receiving by repeating my particular pattern of call and response.

After what feels like a lifetime of therapy and self reflection, I have forgiven my mother for her inability to protect and care for me. I am certain my mother didn’t wake up each morning asking herself “Now how can I injure my daughter today?” I’m not saying she didn’t cause me grievous emotional and physical harm, I’m just acknowledging that she did what she did without conscious thought, and should there have been moments of clarity, the impetus to harm was so much bigger than the impetus to heal, that it was impossible for her to stop.

Once I forgave her, I was able to wake up my slumbering inner nurturer and have her take care of my wild beast of a child.

For the past three days I have stayed inside my apartment, only venturing out to get supplies and to take my puppy Lucille for a brief walk. I calmed down little Beastie my assuring her that Lucille will be fine without our daily marathons, and that she can feel sad about staying indoors on three consecutive sunny days, but that this is the best way to get better.

I’ve been feeling so proud of myself that I haven’t need to look anywhere else but here, to receive my own blessings and my own congratulatory responses.

“You are such a good girl!” I say to myself on repeat, and guess what?

I’m actually beginning to believe that.

“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world” — September 25, 2017
“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world” —

“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world”

Today was a wonderful day at Hanlon’s Point🌴,  where clothing is optional. Lucille and I met a lovely couple who shared their umbrellas along with delicious ham and cheese sandwiches. We swam in the warm water, we played ball, and everyone was impressed with Lucille’s fearlessness.
As we were walking back from the beach, I lost one of my insoles. As I began to trace my steps I encountered a comely gray haired man. (Picture a naked Sean Connery.) I asked him if he had seen a lone sole on the beach and he replied in the affirmative. Lucille and I traipsed after him and shortly thereafter my sole was found. I thanked him profusely and he said “When you tell this story, make sure you tell everyone I’m a saver of soles.” And he is, and I have.

Happy New Year — September 20, 2017

Happy New Year

Today is the beginning of the Jewish New Year. It is our tradition to deliver apples and honey to friends and family, symbols of a sweet and healthy year.

Here on FB, in lieu of apples and honey, I wish all my Hebey friends and friends of Hebe’s love, happiness, laughter, joy, health,financial freedom and lastly, but most importantly – mazel. Mazel is the Yiddish word for luck. My wish for every person that reads this particular status report of mine, much good luck for the coming year.

I respect Oprah Winfrey, but take umbrage with her position on luck. Oprah doesn’t believe in it, believing her work ethic has brought her to where she is today. I know many people who have worked hard, just like Oprah, but the opportunities that have been delivered to Oprah, just haven’t materialized for them. I believe Ms. O’s oppurtunties came to fruition through a combination of hard work and good luck. In my opinion, Oprah has had shitload full of good luck. So I wish all of you little shits, a shitload full of good fortune to begin this New Year in style.🍎🍯💩

%d bloggers like this: