and I can eat big bowls of steaming-hot, toothy pasta, slathered in rich, dark marinara sauce, redolent of sultry summer days and drink big bold barolos and brunellos.
I dream of discovering parts of Canada with my family...of playing golf by the ocean in PEI, while I learn about this far off place that lies within the borders of my adopted country...all the while eating mussels and scallops and lobster pulled from the frigid waters of the northern Atlantic ocean.
I dream of laying on the earth in the northern most islands of Scotland with my sister and watching Aurora Borealis dance above our heads. Of rushing home, frozen, to sit by a roaring fire and eat haggis with neaps and sip peaty single malt scotch.
I dream of exploring South America with my daughter and son-in-law, especially Colombia, his homeland...to learn about this amazingly beautiful country that survives in spite of man-induced travesty. I want him to lead me through the story of this land, rich in history and culture and food, and to teach me to cook ajiaco and sancocho.
I dream of sitting inside a tiny Irish pub with my husband, letting the essence of my ancestors sink into my bones and wrap black velvet ribbons around my soul To while away an evening listening to lilting irish ballads and anticipate a dinner of soft smoked salmon and dark bitter beer.
So people, stories, history, food, travel...adventure...is my passion, and I am so very, very lucky to experience something of it almost every day.