French Toast and Friends



I hope all the Fringelings and anyone visiting Fringeland is having a lovely holiday season.

I think many of us have that tradition.  That one tradition that doesn’t have anything to do with gifts or how good the year was or wasn’t, it just symbolizes how you and yours see the holidays.  In our house it’s Christmas French Toast.  I make the custard and slice the bread on Christmas Eve, set it all to soak overnight in the fridge, to be popped into the oven and baked while we open gifts in the morning.  Regardless of individual tastes, allergies, dietary restrictions, we all eat it, we all like it, and no matter what else I include for breakfast I make enough to feed a battalion. Something about is the perfect blend of comfort food and special occasion. Some years we have several visitors in the early part of the day and it all goes, other years we have leftovers for the next couple of days.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about last year at this time.  I was still finishing up Astonishing. I made New Year’s resolutions.  I was hopeful.  I spend a lot of time–and have posted about it several times– thinking about hope vs acceptance.  I don’t think the two can be separated, they’re a pair, they balance each other.  This year, today, I’m more about acceptance.  Continuing to work on finding peace within balance.

I began Mrs Fringe from hope.  Hope of connecting, hope of writing regularly. Over the past year, I’ve expanded the blog to include some of my fiction (links to pages above). Still hope, but also acceptance of this is where I am, and where, for now, I have readers.  Thank you.

I’ve also been indulging in my other pre-New Years tradition.  Panic.  This was an expensive year, moving to the larger apartment.  I am grateful, every day, that we were able to do this, that we have more space, that I’m sitting and writing this at my own desk! and of course, the unnatural love and appreciation I have for the dishwasher.  But the money seemed to fly off the balcony, chasing the blue jay who pops over to the balcony each morning for a quick hello.  He’s yet to stay long enough for me to snap a photo. I turn back with the camera, and am left swearing he was just there. Much like looking into my empty wallet.

Christmas morning I was awake early.  I’d say too early, but it wasn’t because it gave me an hour to sit with these.

Don't come to Fringeland expecting marble countertops.

Don’t come to Fringeland expecting marble countertops.  1960’s formica all the way!



The book and the mug were gifted by friends (both of whom I met online) who’ve spent time with my family and in my home, who know me well enough to give me this peaceful hour of feeling acceptance is a fine place to be. A gift I received from another wonderful friend the day before Christmas Eve: hope.  And faith. By choice or by circumstance, I know many who live and live well without relatives, but I don’t know any who live well without friends.

And because my glass box is my ultimate symbol of hope, Husband and Art Child braved the traffic and got me a few new underwater friends.

orange plate coral

orange plate coral, isn’t he beautiful?

montipora capricornus frag

montipora capricornus frag

blue acro frag

blue acropora frag

I’ll be home on New Year’s Eve.  Too many drunk people roaming the streets and cheering make me nervous. That isn’t to say it won’t be an exciting evening. Husband has the day/evening off from work, Man Child will be returning from his holiday travels–stepping off a thirty hour train ride–Nerd Child will be recovering from oral surgery, and Art Child will be thrilled to have both of her brothers home at once, even if they’re snoring the evening away.  Sounds perfect to me.

So no resolutions for me this year, other than to continue trying to find that balance.

I’m wishing all of you peace for the New Year.


  1. Can I stop by for French toast? Your dish photo took me back to my maman’s kitchen. This is exactly how she made French toast for us too. We call it Pain Perdu back home or Lost (for wasted) Bread, but this is the same good comfort food regardless of the way we name it.
    Like you I prefer being home on New Year’s Eve and as a family we have a tradition. We write down some of our goals or dreams or whatever we’d like to do or see in the new year. We can share or keep them to ourselves. I seal the papers in a large envelop and on the following New Year’s Eve at midnight we get them back. We can read them and again share or not. And we burn them. As a good bye and as a good morning to a new year.
    There are not really resolutions but more like small steps toward a more important goal. For me it would something like finishing a draft of a manuscript.
    By the way I love mugs and books as gifts too. Yours are really cool. Happy holiday season!


    1. lol, you’re welcome anytime, Evelyn 🙂 One day I’ll write a cookbook, 101 uses for leftover French/Italian bread. 😀
      I love your New Year’s tradition, especially the intent for the goals to be manageable steps. Lovely.

      Thank you for the good thoughts, always–Happy New Year! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Merry Christmas, happy New Year! Your underwater additions are lovely!

    French toast…well, I’m weird. I want my toast a big crispy. I don’t want my eggs to be fluffy. I want my waffles also crispy. Etc. etc. I keep meaning to make french toast in such a manner that I would like it, because the fiancé does indeed like it very much.


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