Grandma's Meatloaf

It's not really an appetizing name for a dish. It deceives the ear because meatloaf is delicious. And my Grandma's recipe is the perfect comfort food.

"I'll wash the dishes and you two go to the living room and watch your show," I said to my Grandparents. My volume heightened because they're both basically deaf and too stubborn to throw a hearing aid on.

"No, don't be silly. We'll all go and watch Rick Steves. He's quite a traveller, you know."

"Who is this guy?" I asked.

He's a middle-aged man who brings the sites and sounds of Europe to living rooms across North America.

My sweet aging Grandparents haven't been to a majority of these places. But you can see the twinkle of intrigue in their eye as this Mr. Steves strolls through quaint villages of yet another European country. This week he was in the Netherlands. He explained that Medieval structures continue to stand here along side there open public urinals that line some streets.

These are places that my Grandparents still want to see. But their bodies just won't let them. They are both resigned to their stiff, oatmeal coloured, retro sofa to enjoy the pleasure of touring a foreign land.

This puts it all into perspective. I'm home and looking for a job for the month that I'm here. It's not going so well. But when it all boils down what does it all matter any way. It'll work out. It will, I can feel it.

And soon enough the stress of making enough money to survive my last semester at Ryerson will have faded into the dust, while I trek forward.

Like Mr. Steves and his open-aired urinals, I'm ready for adventure.