Valerie's Workshop

  F ew things bring me more joy then receiving packages in the mail. What I received today was no exception. Quite frankly, nestled within the folds of a recycled paper envelope, was one of the most heartfelt, moving gifts I've ever received. My dear friend L., who recently moved to New Zealand, mailed a locket, adorned with a forget-me-not. Forget-me-nots have a very special meaning to L. and I. Both of our brothers commit suicide. Although we no longer have our brothers in our lives, we have each other. Something that we both recognize and appreciate greatly. Our friendship has grown so intensely over the last year that we are beginning to feel like sisters. We wear our lockets not only to remember the love of our brothers, but to draw strength from each other. L. ... if you are reading this, I love you! Thank you for being a part of my life. And thank you for reminding me to give in every once and a while. Which leads me to the image above; my afternoon snack. I gave in and

I started this year with lofty ambitions, just like many others. I made a list of resolutions and hoped that this would be the year I'd actually follow through with them. But a few hours into the new year, things seemed to unravel. I broke down mentally and physically. I realized I was feeling worn down, trampled,  defeated, invisible. I had been pushing myself so hard, so long, that I reached my breaking point. What was I doing with myself? To myself? Why wasn't I trying so hard to make myself happy as I was to make everyone else? So, finally, I gave in. I let the emotions out (read: I cried, and blubbered, and cried some more) and got real with myself. I was just as worthy of true happiness as the next gal. And, I am in control of that happiness. Not my family, not my friends, not my neighbors.   Me. So, here we are, almost a month into the new year, and I am resubmitting my resolution for the year. As much as I'd love to stick to my original list, I've realized

  I am a few weeks behind on posting this recipe, but better late than never, right? This winter, one of my closest friends made a special request in a letter she wrote to me. She is fortunate enough to be working as a chef in New Zealand, but the warm summer weather and lack of free time left her cookieless and craving a holiday pick-me-up. So, my son and I pulled out the digital cook book (a.k.a. my laptop) and found a satisfactory recipe for gingerbread men. We measured, whisked, patted and chilled. We rolled, cut, baked and decorated. Before we knew it, we had a legion of gingerbread men and snowmen. We picked out a dozen of the strongest looking fellows, wrapped them in waxed paper and nestled them in a tin. Along with a few other items, we shipped our batch of Christmas Cheer to the other side of the world. As of our latest update; our package arrived safely in New Zealand, ready to induce a highly contagious case of Happy Holidays. The gingerbread men have been goi