Written by Marilyn Barnicke Belleghem (  Profile )
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Visiting Kilkenny Ireland
 My first close-up view of Kilkenny Castle is across a vast expanse of grass, as I round the crest of the path and turn through a space in the hedge. I have chosen to enter from the rear rather than the street side. I imagine myself as a youth on an errand for a local farmer or shopkeeper, perhaps delivering wares to the castle kitchen. With the combination of awe and fear that a first-time visitor might have on such an errand, I approach the imposing structure.
My flight into fantasy is abruptly interrupted as I enter the castle and am requested to pay an admission fee. My return back to the world of reality is swift and clear. As I wander through the rooms, some of which are empty while others have been refurbished and decorated in a style appropriate to the period, I realize I am alone. The weather, combined with this being pre tourist season, results in peace and quiet.
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Written by Ellen Besso ( Profile )
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Excerpt from Surviving Eldercare: Where their needs end and yours begin
reprinted by permission of the author
Trying to do too much
You are undoubtedly a woman who is trying to do too much:
- There aren't enough hours in the day to do what you need to do.
- Responsibilities feel too big for one woman to manage.
- You find it hard to say 'no' to requests.
- Your personal life has faded into non-existence.
- You feel depleted, sad or resentful.
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Written by Kathy Buckworth ( Profile )
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Excerpt from Shut Up and Eat! Tales of Chicken, Children and Chardonnay, Published by Key Porter Books, March, 2010
We need to face facts. The family meal is fraught with disaster and a prescription pre-written to fail, almost every time. You (the earnest Mom), hate making it day after day after day, and they (the annoying children) hate eating it. Mostly because you made it with your own hands, in your own kitchen, with disdainfully fresh and nutritious grocery store ingredients. Come on Mom! Everyone knows food goes through an amazing taste transformation once it’s been passed through a drive-thru window. In fact I’m thinking of installing one on the side of my house so the kids can grab their breakfast sandwiches as they ride by on their bikes. To make it really authentic, I’m thinking of charging them and getting the order wrong half the time. Hopefully I won’t get the pre-requisite zits and “uptalk” pattern of speech. And I’m nixing the hair net, okay?
I honestly don’t understand (or care, frankly) why they don’t love my cooking, or at least like it. But the whys don’t really matter. The indisputable fact is that whether they (or we) like it or not, moms are “supposed“to get three meals down the adorable, little throats of our offspring by the end of each day. I’m pretty sure that rule is in every parenting book ever written. Whether we’re serving these meals at home, or bundling them up and sending them out to schools and camps, the food is “supposed” to be healthy and lovingly prepared.
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