Made with love, Gramma.

With the awareness of the looming transition to the working world, I preemptively took advantage of the the time I had this summer to spend at home. While enjoying the slow Saskatchewan pace and silent nights at Crooked Lake, K & I crossed something off the very top of our bucket list. For me, learn how to make Gramma's infamous apple pie (which I would live on if calories didn't count), for K, an attempt at mastering the equally delicious rhubarb with lemon meringue pie. Mouth watering stuff people.

Despite consuming what is likely approaching a fatal amount of Gramma's apple pies, I am hopeless in the kitchen and completely ignorant to the proces it takes to put together the piece of art that I so often crave. Instead I operate on the assumption that the basement deep freeze at 202 Alberta Drive is a magical place of never ending pies stocked by hard working pie fairies whose uniform includes a mini flour covered apron. And if you do raid the magical freezer's stock, upon the simple act of returning an empty pie plate, you will be rewarded with a full replacement pie!Gramma was incredibly patient with both K and I; providing the sweetest aprons, pausing for photos, and most importantly not breaking stride despite the numerous egg shells that seemed to find their way into the mix. It was a very special day for K and I, one which I definitely will never forget.

Our interpretation of the step, "whisk until you achieve 'soft peaks'"The lesson was a success on so many levels; delicious pies were made, we have an abundance of photos with cutesy aprons, K walked away with her own container of tapioca, but most importantly, we were able to spend a wonderful day with a woman we admire.

Thanks Gramma. You're the best.

"It's a beautiful day for a drive."

It's a line I grew up hearing, but never quite understood. If it's a beautiful day, wouldn't you rather be outside enjoying it, as opposed to trapped inside a gas burning machine for hours? (I still think modern science could nail down the teleporter if it really wanted to). 

But here in Saskatchewan, a beautiful day means that there are no ice slicked highways, no 50km/h winds blowing your little machine around (not to mention killing your gas mileage), and no dense fog disabling vision. No, a beautiful day in Saskatchewan equals a nice leisurely drive.


It's a beautiful day for a drive. I finally understood it today, as I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of my road-trip across these silent fields. I grew up in this gold blanketed province, but always seem to need time away to appreciate its beauty. The bluebell skies, the golden fields, the stagnant dugouts still frosted, defiantly ignoring Spring. And the flat, flat landscape, that makes driving a breeze! It's a field of dreams man. It's home.

Roadtrips remain forever unchanged. Blasting John Gormley's AM show while childishly racing trains. Watching farm machinery crawling at a snails pace, passing through deceivingly sleepy towns - venture two blocks off the highway to Main Street and you're guaranteed to find a town bustling with excitement; busy with school programs, various local initiatives, and filled with dedicated citizens wearing numerous hats all to selflessly keep their town alive.
And this my friends, it just the drive.

I wouldn't change it for the world.

First cottage trip of the season.

The vehicle is overflowing with groceries and essentials: Sunflower seeds, check. Bean bag game, copious decks of cards, fishing rods, check, check, check. Sangria ingredients, double check.

Its officially that time of year; time to move to the lake! The place this little spot on the internet gets its name from. Our piece of paradise - I'm not kidding.

If you're in the area, don't be shy. We welcome visitors, especially those bearing gifts of sangria and willing to give water-skiing a try. In the mean time, we'll be busy reading books, eating chips and dip, and finding the sun. (Just kidding, there will be much more landscaping, picking rocks, repairing the deck, and dry-walling than anything. We're Wilsons!)

We love lake.

Spin around the world.

It is no secret, I am a spin junkie. For most of my undergrad I was vehicle-less relying on my two pedals and legs to commute. I biked to work, rain or sunshine, and loved every minute of it. But, when the inevitable winter chill hits, transforming Saskatchewan into a skating rink, I'm out.  I respect those crazy brave people who strap on a helmet and master the slick streets. Really, I do. 

The exception: Me in 2009 biking an Ecuadorian Volcano.

To get my fix, winter months are spent pedaling indoors at spin classes. During one such class in Dublin, I realized I have unintentionally 'spun' in every country I have called home. After an hour of sweating it out under the direction of an Irish accent, I laughed as I realized how much of the country's unique culture is apparent in the gym.  Can you figure out where each of the spin classes described below was held?

Answers include: Saskatoon, Guatemala, Ecuador, Sweden, Calgary, & Dublin

1) I distinctively remember laughing through entire classes here. Spin is held in a small room consisting of floor to ceiling windows, that never open. In this hot country, an exercise room without fans, AC, or open windows is not good; the humidity like a thick blanket. Class is comparable to the night club; lights off, a disco ball flipped on, and Spanish music pumping! A little round man leads the class, walking around the room dancing and singing, swaying his hips the way only latin men can.

2) This spin studio feels like an exclusive club, where all the girls have matching lulus and seem to have been friends for life. The studio is so obviously designed by a woman with ear plugs for loud music, mint scented towels to clean your bike, hair elastics for all, and amazingly energetic instructors to keep you motivated on the days you regret showing up.

3) The gym here was home to a number of birds whose cages were strategically placed between cardio machines, allowing the parrots the perfect view from which to squeal at and heckle gym patrons. Those parrots, they can actually be quite motivating as they criticize your form! After a while you won't be bothered when class starts anywhere from 10-60 minutes late, or is randomly cancelled without notice.

"Slow poke! Slow poke!"

4) Here classes also start late, and no one seems to be bothered, too busy visiting with their neighbors and making new friends. The instructor, a thick man with an equally thick accent, is amazingly motivating despite hardly sitting on his bike. There is no cheating by pretending to turn the resistance up. When the thick man yells "resistance at 14 and 100 rpm, GO" he means it, and will stand in front of your bike until your machine hits that impossible number. But after class, he will congratulate you for working so hard, and try to hug you despite your sweaty state, because in this country, people are so nice.

5) My first introduction to spin classes, and likely the most serious experience to date. Regular 6am classes are the norm, your instructor will show up and pedal hard even when 7 months pregnant. Most memorable quotes include, "if you're talking you're not working hard enough!" and "you can do anything for 30 more seconds!" She is right. It was here I would first consider becoming a spin instructor, because in this rat-race country, my mind always seems to fall back to work.

6) Here you learn how to recognize numbers in an attempt to fumble along with the instructions in a foreign language. I am typically the lone female in a class filled with men in the shortest shorts imaginable, speaking to man's desire to attain a very slim physique in this area of the world. Classes are consistent, tardiness is not permitted, and Swedish House Mafia themed months are common.

Incase you actually read this far, (I am impressed!), highlight line below to reveal answers:

1) Ecuador, 2) Calgary, 3) Guatemala, 4) Ireland,  5) Saskatoon,  6) Sweden

Frost Country.

Dear my beloved Swedish counterparts, currently complaining about the cold.

Stop it.

Swedish Sun... Mon.. Thursday?: The Glögg

Is it really Thursday?! Forgive me it's the holidays and I can barely figure out the time of day let alone the day of the week. I'm not the only one right? Speaking of the holidays, the instant I was introduced to this Scandinavian holiday tradition, I knew it would become a staple back home.

Glögg! (Pronounced glooog). 

I am now convinced there is nothing tastier than a cup of warm glogg (ie: mulled wine with spices), on a cold winters day. In Stockholm an alcohol free version is given away on the streets. What a treat to warm your frosty fingers and noses! The best thing, there is no one-way to make glögg. Aside from the staples: wine, cinnamon, cardamom, almonds, raisons, orange peels, and sugar, glögg allows you the freedom to don your chef hat and concoct a creative version perfectly fit to your own taste. I have quizzed Swedes and scoured recipes: some add brandy, others vodka or aquavit, and if you're my moma, diluting with water is key. Interestingly, in the 1890's glögg became very popular throughout northern European nations, used as a "health potion" to cure various winter related ailments.

Since returning home I have been experimenting with glögg recipes, trying to find that perfect taste. After accidentally straining the first batch straight down the kitchen drain, (cue jet lag tears of exhaustion), a cringe worthy vodka batch that surely puts hair on your chest, and a few other concoctions involving ginger ale, I have found my favorite version! If you have a cheap bottle of wine kicking around your liquor cupboard, I assure you, it is up for the glogg challenge!

Glögg Basics:

• 1 ltr inexpensive dry red wine
• 50ml inexpensive brandy
• 8 cinnamon sticks broken in half
• 1 1/2 tsp cardamom seeds - Most recipes call for cardamom seed pods. If you can find them, use about 10. Lack of selection at the Yorkton grocery store had me substituting with dried cardamom - avoid at all costs! It is just not the same.
• 15-20 whole cloves
• 1 orange peel
• 1/2 cup raisins
• 1 cup blanched almonds
• 1/2 cup sugar

Mix all ingredients together over low heat. Do not let the concoction come to a boil. Let simmer for 45 minutes. If your house starts smelling like Christmas and you are anxious to dive in, strain it, adding the almonds and raisins back into the mugs, and serve! Other varieties include letting the wine mull for 4-5 hours, or even overnight, it is all up to you! If you're an aquavit or port fan, feel free to experiment adding different things to the mix.

In this subarctic Saskatchewan winter, glögg is quickly becoming a post-cross country ski tradition... can you blame us?

Cheers and Happy Holidays!