Ray Ramen-o

Hi again,

Thanks for being so nice about my first blog entry! Glad you liked it. Let’s talk about panic attacks.

I have found that, in my 30s, I’ve become much more aware of danger. I think it’s related to my ever present empty womb, the fact that I don’t strength train anymore, and my facebook feed. Unfortunately getting really into feminism also means having daily reminders of why we need it.

So that, combined with this huge life change, has had a surprising/not so surprising effect on me.

Before leaving Winnipeg, I started to feel unwell. In the last week when all I wanted to do was sneak in a few extra social events, I felt tired and headachey a lot of the time. My body felt strange like it didn’t belong to me anymore. Mystery aches, throbbing joints, feeling overheated for no reason.

It’s strange to be able to watch your body react to something when your emotions haven’t got there yet.

Then they arrived. All at once. In the dark, in the middle of the night before we left. I started to think about not being able to spontaneously call up/hang out with my family and friends on a day off. I love a good wander, and I knew I couldn’t replace those completely with facebook messeger. No more iced coffees on unexpected afternoons off. Of all the things that could have done it, that one opened the floodgates.

At one point my boyfriend, who is more accepting of my violent mood shifts than they deserve, hugged me and said;

“OK. How about we go out there, unpack all that stuff in the van, and just stay here. And when all those people who said goodbye to us ask us what happened, we’ll say you wanted to go to the farmer’s market with your mom.”

I thought about it.

That’s the gut-wrenching stupidity of big decisions. They never feel all the way right, they never feel 100% better than the alternative, and they aren’t pain-free.  For years I’ve believed the “suddenly everything clicked into place” narrative. CEOS who gave it all up to live in a hut in Tahiti. Never happier. Riding horses in the sand, getting paid to make youtube videos. No bad vibes.

Such sap.*

On my first morning in Toronto, I went for a walk and got an iced coffee (natch).  I had a handful of resumes, I was making small talk with the barista, and “Gentleman Prefer Blondes” was playing silently in the background on a big ol’ screen. Life was scary but good. In fact, that’s perfect. Stop asking me how I am for a year. I’m scared but good. Til further notice.

This is getting long. Let’s just get to the noodles and save the rest for another day.


I made these after seeing The Big Sick. If you have not seen it, see it now. A wonderful story that hit home for me, and should have a little something for everyone. The film features some talent, and you’ll learn that Ray Romano is seriously underrated as an actor. If I’ve gleaned anything from his and other sitcoms, it’s probably his wife’s fault.

So for these guys I boiled the noodles, but not all the way. I let them keep some of their trademark crunch which leaves them a little more photogenic. I like these noodles for that. They taste great raw, a little undercooked, or as a total sloppy mess. I can respect that.

I put a small amount of water and seasoning powder (just a pinch! That stuff’ll kill you.) in a frying pan on high, then sliced up some baby bok choy and threw it in there. Drizzle with sunflower oil and dig in. So far this is the simplest meal I’ve made that got the best review from my bf.

Much like our friend Ray, a simple dish with a lot to offer.


*dedicated to my favourite high school teacher, Dale Swirsky, who passed away recently. He once wrote this on a paper wherein I was asked to argue against communism. Apparently, there’s no room for purple prose in social studies.




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