The more brutal the day, the more important it seems to be to consider and enumerate what there is to be honestly grateful for. I've had, um, a list-inducing kind of day.
I am thankful for:
--making a really tasty vegetable soup with tomatoes from our garden
--Rob, scrubbed and shaved
--reprieves, however brief, from headaches
--finally getting the News & Calendar pages of our business' website updated
--fresh, clean, cotton sheets to sleep on tonight
--never having to do the wash in a laundromat again
--Downy unscented liquid fabric softener
--a Thai lunch invitation from a friend, even though I had to take a raincheck
--a well-timed windfall of loving communications from friends and a cousin
--Family Home Evening
--neck massages, whether or not they eliminate headaches
--arms of warm comfort closing around me
--natural peanut butter and Gala apple sandwiches
--electricity
--rain
--love at home
--1/2 bushel boxes of fruit “seconds” for five bucks from Allred Orchards
--preparing peaches for the freezer with Rob
--the way Lemon Elberta and Red Skin peaches so willingly shed their skins after being blanched for a minute
--counting blessings and remembering where they come from
--potatoes
--air-popped white popcorn--just for tonight, without salt
--almost three weeks straight off sugars and refined flours
--hand-me-up clothes from my sisters-in-law
--a house to live in--not fancy, but decent
--a really comfortable bed to sleep in
--food in the cupboard
--people who do what they say they’ll do
--unsquelched gratitude
--Pilot Hi-Tec-C pens
--an answering machine with three voice boxes plus one generic extra for individuals who find the choices too confusing or who simply feel contrary
--being comfortable with letting the answering machine do its job
--saying no to call waiting
--yellow okra flowers
--persuading Helen to seek marital counseling before she kills or leaves her husband
--sleep
--calendars
--knowing how to read and write
--no billboards in my house
--mustard
--those amazing sauerkraut jars that I use for everything
--my fabulous bed (worth mentioning twice)
--waking up this morning from a dream that produced a happy (if temporary) resolution to a troubled relationship from the past
--going to bed early (think I’ll do that)
20 September 2004
19 September 2004
Fig
Rob and I had a great moment last week: we harvested our very first ripened fig! Our fig tree was a gift from me to Rob four years and one month ago, when we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. We were sorely strapped for money at that time, and I was wild to find something meaningful that I could offer to Rob as a remembrance of the sweetest and most important event of my life. I decided I wanted to give him a fig tree. (I’m tired enough now that I don’t want to start on a tangent about why it was the perfect symbol for our marriage, but I will plunge into that explanation another time.)
I called every nursery in the valley. I called mail order companies. They all told me that only ornamental figs were suited to my climate. I just knew this couldn’t be true, because Rob and I had some time earlier laid a hush-hush claim to what we considered to be our own secret fig tree. It grew in a place on the local university campus where we frequently went walking, and it was not in a spot that was familiar to most. It was sheltered--hidden, really. We harvested figs there whenever we could (usually under cover of night) and they were thrilling and fine. There’s hardly anything more perfect or delicious than a ripe, fresh, and--yes, it’s true what they say--sensual fig. Our tree was so covered in the great, deep, green, and generously open hands that were its leaves, that its fruits loitered--ripening lazily, waiting for us, making us wait--confident and concealed. It was a wound to think that my great idea to give Rob such a tree was out of the question. Truly, I couldn’t wisely afford one, but in my desire to give Rob a treasure, and in my unwillingness to shake the obsession with the fig tree, I would’ve rationalized any foolhardy spending, if it hadn’t been for the problem of our reportedly unsuitable growing zone!
At last, a tiny light flickered above my head, just long enough for me to distinguish the outline of the only obvious solution, which was to by my own hand take surreptitious cuttings from “our” tree, the mama fig. I studied up on how to take successful cuttings. I secured a giant Rubbermaid storage container and stabbed drainage holes into the bottom. I got a heavy bag of sand and poured it into the Rubbermaid. I bought rooting hormone and read the directions. After making sufficient preparations, I slipped over to campus early one cool morning and, looking nervously over my shoulder, helped myself to ten promising branches. Mama fig seemed as pleased and approving as a tree can, and when I’d finished my careful pruning, she rearranged herself and appeared as full and gorgeous as ever, a true confederate. Now that secret tree and I had a secret of our own.
I did everything I had read to do for those treelings, and my wedding anniversary gift turned out to be a tenderly-received token of love. Not all the cuttings rooted. Not all the cuttings which rooted survived. Later, we gave one rooted survivor to some dear friends, an elderly couple from Wales, with whom we sometimes shared our figs. In the end, we had one strong little fig tree remaining, just one out of ten, but it was enough. When we bought our home in 2001, we planted that tiny but determined twig on the east side, where it could easily be seen from the kitchen window, and where it might enjoy a bit of shelter near the house. I prayed for that tree, so many times I can’t count. I was afraid it wouldn’t come back after its first winter, but it did. I was afraid after its second winter as well, as that year was a particularly hard one, but the tree made it through. Now I have no fear for its well-being; I’m just grateful and amazed that it has defied every garden center guru who ever gave me a thumbs-down. It’s as tough as its mama. Last year our still-very small tree made a half-dozen or so figs, but they didn’t swell, didn’t let go their tight knotty greenness; they refused maturity. I wondered then if our tree was doomed to a fruitless, ornamental fate. This year the tree has been more vigorous and has made, what? a couple dozen figs in total? more? As I’ve already revealed, it has at last proven that it’s capable of seeing its reproductive projects to fruition. Maybe that’s another way this tree is a great symbol for Rob and me: every sweet thing in its own beautiful time. This fig’s not barren after all.
I carefully washed that first precious harvest. Rob and I took photos of it, like some little fawned-over starlet. We took turns holding and examining it. Ceremoniously we sliced it in half and ate it lazily with breakfast. Four years and a month we waited for this, just this one perfect, ripe, sensuous gift. It was worth it.
18 September 2004
A study in human behavior--double or nothing
Multiple choice: Zuzu works all day and all night on Saturday and never stops to go shopping as she had planned on a saner day. Sunday morning arrives, and finds her with ripe hair that is screaming for a scrub. The only "shampoo" in the house is Ajax Orange Anti-Bacterial Dishwashing Liquid, which she has recently sworn off.
Zuzu (choose one):
(a) washes her hair with Ajax and tries to make it up to her tresses with conditioner.
(b) washes her hair with 'Happy Hippy" bath soap.
(c) doesn't wash her hair but goes to church with a smile so confident and bright that nobody notices she's greasy.
(d) doesn't wash her hair but goes to church; sits in the back corner, trying to be invisible; takes the sacrament; then hides out for two hours in the mothers' lounge.
(e) goes back to bed and forgets she's ever heard of church.
(f) shaves her head.
(g) (other) _________________________________________
If you are the first to answer this question correctly, you will receive a very special non-greasy prize. If you are lucky enough to be a double winner (see yesterday's test question), I will throw in a little something extra, because you are both clever and quick.
I'll announce the winner(s) Monday or Tuesday. Good luck!
Zuzu (choose one):
(a) washes her hair with Ajax and tries to make it up to her tresses with conditioner.
(b) washes her hair with 'Happy Hippy" bath soap.
(c) doesn't wash her hair but goes to church with a smile so confident and bright that nobody notices she's greasy.
(d) doesn't wash her hair but goes to church; sits in the back corner, trying to be invisible; takes the sacrament; then hides out for two hours in the mothers' lounge.
(e) goes back to bed and forgets she's ever heard of church.
(f) shaves her head.
(g) (other) _________________________________________
If you are the first to answer this question correctly, you will receive a very special non-greasy prize. If you are lucky enough to be a double winner (see yesterday's test question), I will throw in a little something extra, because you are both clever and quick.
I'll announce the winner(s) Monday or Tuesday. Good luck!
A study in human behavior
Solve this word problem: Zuzu and Alfred are self-employed. Having recently reached again the low point in their usual feast-and-famine cycle, they have tightened their belts a few notches. Zuzu is (1) the family's designated household shopper, and (2) a long-time devotee to Aveda hair care products, which are sold exclusively in pricey salons. Zuzu hasn't been able to justify spending the equivalent of her weight in gold on Aveda in over a decade, but in her heart she remains loyal to her ideal. She regularly purchases a weakly consolatory substitute, Aura, as most every other brand brutalizes her hair. Recently, Zuzu and Alfred ran out of shampoo, right after they ran out of money. Rather than buy something like White Rain, Zuzu rummaged through her bathroom storage drawers until she produced three sample bottles of anti-bacterial liquid soap from Sam's Club, rationalizing that their contents couldn't be any worse for her hair than dollar store fry sauce. After three weeks' worth of shampoos, these were also emptied. Zuzu turned next to the kitchen for an emergency solution, figuring that dish soap was more or less the same as liquid hand soap. How many times will Zuzu wash her hair with Ajax before she admits the awful irony of the situation, swallows her pride, abandons the Aveda dream gone awry, and shells out a mere buck for some Suave?
The first person to give me the right answer (and there is a right answer) will receive a glamorous prize!
The first person to give me the right answer (and there is a right answer) will receive a glamorous prize!
17 September 2004
Boys and girls
Okay, I really should be in bed now, but how can I sleep when I've just discovered that I'm the lone female in a group of forty Bloggers who listed The Magnificent Seven as a favorite movie? It's a bit unnerving. What could it mean?
I just checked in here to mention that I now have photos up on a couple of my older entries: a fine specimen of a knitted uterus is now on display--see Knittily winks, September 13th; and a rear-view of my DH modelling the coveted recycled sari magic pants--see And now for something completely negligible, September 9th.
That's all for tonight. I have to rest now, rest and contemplate my status as the only blogging woman to own up to appreciating one of the coollest westerns ever made.
I just checked in here to mention that I now have photos up on a couple of my older entries: a fine specimen of a knitted uterus is now on display--see Knittily winks, September 13th; and a rear-view of my DH modelling the coveted recycled sari magic pants--see And now for something completely negligible, September 9th.
That's all for tonight. I have to rest now, rest and contemplate my status as the only blogging woman to own up to appreciating one of the coollest westerns ever made.
14 September 2004
Spam for breakfast
Spam Rant Du Jour
From: Marlon Pike (hmm, sounds a little fishy . . . ar ar ar)
Subject: Without This, You Failed Ferris
I failed ferris? Ferris wheel? How can anybody possibly fail ferris wheel? It's the easiest ride at the fair, next to the kiddie-go-round. I guess pulling up the safety bar, standing up in the swing-seat, rocking violently back and forth, and wildly flapping one's arms could ultimately lead a person to ferris failure. But I've always been a sufficiently serene rider, a contented cog in the carny's Big Wheel. So, the first problem with this email is that it's misinformed. Marlon just doesn't know me.
But if I actually had failed ferris wheel and lived to tell about it, to what would I now be attributing my [ahem] downfall? What's the one critical thing I'd confess I lacked in my corn dog days? Balance? Common sense? A seatmate willing to strongarm me? A stable level of beta-endorphins? Magnets in my shoes? Is this what Marlon is hoping to sell me? Marlon, are you a Nikken distributor? Okay, so that's problem number two with this email: manipulative salesmanship. Just tell me what you're selling up front and let me decide if I have a need for it. Don't try to humiliate me by reminding me that I once fell out of a ferris wheel (which I didn't), and thus secure a sale.
After reading the body of Marlon's message, I realized I'd had him all wrong; he never intended for me to wear magnets, or to feel better, or to ride with a friend. He wants me to send him money so I can announce to the world that I'm educated. He's got my answer, the great trick that will prevent me from taking more embarrassing and possibly fatal nosedives and splatting on the pavement. I can easily (and, no doubt, cheaply) acquire that coveted and oh-so-useful college degree I've dreamed of. In no time at all I could even be calling myself Doctor. Quick, painless, ignorant status can be mine with one phone call, one brief transfer of credit card funds. Wow.
Obtaining a DIPLOMA/PHD/MBA/BA has never been so easy!
Call today and find out how you could get your DIPLOMA/PHD/MBA and or BA
from a highly credited college, Full Transcripts,
A Letter of Recommendations, and also your GPA.
{206-202-xxxx}
No required tests, classes, books, or interviews.
Diplomas are available include but are not limited to:
Bachelors, Masters, MBA, and Doctorate (PhD)
Available in any field of your choice.
Everyone is approved, Never is anyone turned down.
Total Confidentiality assured.
Call Today {206-202-xxxx} get a ..DIPLOMA/|PHD/MD/MBA/BA within days!
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This is 0ne t|me mai-|ing. N0 re-m0 val are re-quired
hYub5Awz3joSXyWa5LiqfjjK7dvKE3to1TOkhZ7LQ7lJ8Aaut7S
That's Mr. Pike's third strike: he's selling validity for the price of integrity. I'd rather interrupt the ride at its highest point and take a flying leap than buy into such idiocy and desperation. Please tell me this isn't evidence of the law of supply and demand. Marlon, baby, don't ever make the mistake of riding the ferris wheel with me; you'd be kissing your corn dog goodbye.
From: Marlon Pike (hmm, sounds a little fishy . . . ar ar ar)
Subject: Without This, You Failed Ferris
I failed ferris? Ferris wheel? How can anybody possibly fail ferris wheel? It's the easiest ride at the fair, next to the kiddie-go-round. I guess pulling up the safety bar, standing up in the swing-seat, rocking violently back and forth, and wildly flapping one's arms could ultimately lead a person to ferris failure. But I've always been a sufficiently serene rider, a contented cog in the carny's Big Wheel. So, the first problem with this email is that it's misinformed. Marlon just doesn't know me.
But if I actually had failed ferris wheel and lived to tell about it, to what would I now be attributing my [ahem] downfall? What's the one critical thing I'd confess I lacked in my corn dog days? Balance? Common sense? A seatmate willing to strongarm me? A stable level of beta-endorphins? Magnets in my shoes? Is this what Marlon is hoping to sell me? Marlon, are you a Nikken distributor? Okay, so that's problem number two with this email: manipulative salesmanship. Just tell me what you're selling up front and let me decide if I have a need for it. Don't try to humiliate me by reminding me that I once fell out of a ferris wheel (which I didn't), and thus secure a sale.
After reading the body of Marlon's message, I realized I'd had him all wrong; he never intended for me to wear magnets, or to feel better, or to ride with a friend. He wants me to send him money so I can announce to the world that I'm educated. He's got my answer, the great trick that will prevent me from taking more embarrassing and possibly fatal nosedives and splatting on the pavement. I can easily (and, no doubt, cheaply) acquire that coveted and oh-so-useful college degree I've dreamed of. In no time at all I could even be calling myself Doctor. Quick, painless, ignorant status can be mine with one phone call, one brief transfer of credit card funds. Wow.
Obtaining a DIPLOMA/PHD/MBA/BA has never been so easy!
Call today and find out how you could get your DIPLOMA/PHD/MBA and or BA
from a highly credited college, Full Transcripts,
A Letter of Recommendations, and also your GPA.
{206-202-xxxx}
No required tests, classes, books, or interviews.
Diplomas are available include but are not limited to:
Bachelors, Masters, MBA, and Doctorate (PhD)
Available in any field of your choice.
Everyone is approved, Never is anyone turned down.
Total Confidentiality assured.
Call Today {206-202-xxxx} get a ..DIPLOMA/|PHD/MD/MBA/BA within days!
24 hours a day, 7 days a week
including Sunday and Holidays.
Available Internationally
{1-206-202-xxxx}
This is 0ne t|me mai-|ing. N0 re-m0 val are re-quired
hYub5Awz3joSXyWa5LiqfjjK7dvKE3to1TOkhZ7LQ7lJ8Aaut7S
That's Mr. Pike's third strike: he's selling validity for the price of integrity. I'd rather interrupt the ride at its highest point and take a flying leap than buy into such idiocy and desperation. Please tell me this isn't evidence of the law of supply and demand. Marlon, baby, don't ever make the mistake of riding the ferris wheel with me; you'd be kissing your corn dog goodbye.
13 September 2004
Knittily winks
I'm pretty much dying to share this gem sent to me by my sister-in-law, Becca. Question is: Should I hold out till I can also show you a picture of the finished product? The answer is an absolute YES, but you see, I'm too impatient to yield to reason. This is just too fantastic not to pass on ASAP. I promise to post the photo as soon as I've got my image-uploading glitches figured out. If you think you need to see it before that time, email me, and I'll gladly send you the visual. This one's especially for the girls. Hey, you just never know when you might need a spare!
On a related subject (but a different body part), here's another cool knitting pattern. You'll for sure want to make two of these. Scroll down to page 2 of the document to make the most of what's left of Summer 2004. (Is it just me, or do you also get the urge to switch the model's 3rd and 4th toes . . . on both feet?) Thanks for telling me there is such a thing as knitted flip-flops, Heidi.
I have been named the new organizer for a local Meetup.com Knitting Group. Got my first round of info sent out today to the seven maybe-interested-maybe-not members, after wrestling unsuccessfully with online forms. Meetup.com is a splendid concept, and I'm all for it, but I must say their website navigation stinks. Maybe they're still in the guinea pig stage, and I'm just a cute, fat, rodent.
I'll have you know I have had a few non-knitting-related thoughts today. Here's evidence.
Favorite bloggers I've been spying on this week
Hoobickie (who has only ever posted one entry on his blog, but is still my number one read) • • • Joh • • • Scott • • • Heidi • • • Jory • • • Jamie
UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! (16 September)
I have moved up the food chain a whole rung; I can now post images! To celebrate, I'll post my photo of nice, warm knitted uterus, as I promised!
On a related subject (but a different body part), here's another cool knitting pattern. You'll for sure want to make two of these. Scroll down to page 2 of the document to make the most of what's left of Summer 2004. (Is it just me, or do you also get the urge to switch the model's 3rd and 4th toes . . . on both feet?) Thanks for telling me there is such a thing as knitted flip-flops, Heidi.
I have been named the new organizer for a local Meetup.com Knitting Group. Got my first round of info sent out today to the seven maybe-interested-maybe-not members, after wrestling unsuccessfully with online forms. Meetup.com is a splendid concept, and I'm all for it, but I must say their website navigation stinks. Maybe they're still in the guinea pig stage, and I'm just a cute, fat, rodent.
I'll have you know I have had a few non-knitting-related thoughts today. Here's evidence.
Favorite bloggers I've been spying on this week
Hoobickie (who has only ever posted one entry on his blog, but is still my number one read) • • • Joh • • • Scott • • • Heidi • • • Jory • • • Jamie
UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! (16 September)
I have moved up the food chain a whole rung; I can now post images! To celebrate, I'll post my photo of nice, warm knitted uterus, as I promised!
11 September 2004
Gardener of Eden
What a fruitful Saturday! We ceremoniously harvested our very first charentais melon from the garden at lunchtime. Not only was it the first charentais (or melon de Cavaillon) we'd ever grown, but it was also the first either of us had ever eaten. Exquisite! It's all true what they say about French melons. They are ambrosial; they could easily transport you to some celestial sphere. You've just got to grow some to discover what you've been missing your entire life. Do not die, do not even think about leaving the planet before you've tasted one. Look, I'll help you: ORDER SEEDS HERE! Then by this time next year, you will also understand why, in 1864, when "the library at Cavaillon asked Alexandre Dumas to make a gift of some of his works . . . [he] agreed to donate 194 volumes of his writings to the local library in return for a lifetime yearly annuity of a dozen melons. An agreement that was kept until his death in 1870." (George Morrison, Master Gardener, for the Cornell Cooperative Extension of Westchester County, NY) With respect to Mr. Dumas, I'm sure he got the better bargain.
Other lovely growing things reached fruition today. I went, as planned, with Spidey's mom to the temple early this morning, even before the sun had gotten out of bed. Yasmir's boyfriend also accompanied us. She came away from our adventure this morning not only inspired and refreshed in spirit, but also engaged. Engaged! Her boyfriend magically transformed himself into a fiance, apparently without much effort. See? All sorts of sweet things are ripening in their time.
It's time now to begin planning for future growing seasons. That means recognizing opportunities and preserving choices.
Other lovely growing things reached fruition today. I went, as planned, with Spidey's mom to the temple early this morning, even before the sun had gotten out of bed. Yasmir's boyfriend also accompanied us. She came away from our adventure this morning not only inspired and refreshed in spirit, but also engaged. Engaged! Her boyfriend magically transformed himself into a fiance, apparently without much effort. See? All sorts of sweet things are ripening in their time.
It's time now to begin planning for future growing seasons. That means recognizing opportunities and preserving choices.
10 September 2004
Goodisms
Not feeling well--fever and dizziness ambushed me late this afternoon. Rob's just taken Spiderman, our little friend from across the street, on a father and son campout organized by our church congregation. The two of them took off with Bryce and his little guy, and they all seemed excited about the trip. I told Bryce he should feel very safe traveling with a superhero.
So, it's just me and the dog tonight. I think it'll be an early-to-bed evening, because tomorrow I surely have to cope with an early-to-rise morning. Spidey's mom is going to the temple for the first time, and she's asked me to be her escort. We've got to be there by 6:3oam, such a rude hour for a Saturday, but that's okay. It will be worth the price of a little sleep, and then some.
I read a great quote today:
"We can respond to irritation with a smile instead of scowl, or by giving warm praise instead of icy indifference. By our being understanding instead of abrupt, others, in turn, may decide to hold on a little longer rather than to give way. Love, patience, and meekness can be just as contagious as rudeness and crudeness." (Neal A. Maxwell, "The Tugs and Pulls of the World," Ensign, Nov. 2000, 36)
That's what I'd very much like to be guilty of spreading: good will. Right now, about all I have to spread are germs, but this shall pass. When the cooties have flown and I'm fit for society again, I'll work on the beautiful contagion thing.
How about some easy, practical opportunities to spread some good will?
Here's an exciting humanitarian project I learned about today. Readers and other book lovers take note.
And here are some ideas especially for knitters and others who do strange things with yarns and fibers, from the latest issue of Knitty (a generally terrific online knit mag): one is about sharing your stash, and the other is about knitting for charity. Excellent ideas.
It seems so easy to get hung up on the false idea that service to others has to be hard and at times even scary. I'm convinced that each of us can do something valuable without instantly being ejected from our familiar worlds. You just have to think creatively to find ways to apply your own particular interests and talents to the concept of giving to others. If you love something, if you know how to do something, you can bet your boots there's somebody else in the world, even in your world, maybe right next to you, who would appreciate your help in gaining access to it as well.
Hey, where's my soapbox?
Ready for another recipe? Believe me, this one is good. This one makes me want to cry for people who either can't or won't eat garlic. This one's worth buying a new box of Altoids to mask your breath for the next two days. Hoo boy, it's tasty! Again, it's an adaptation of a dish from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant. In case you're wondering why I'm always tweaking recipes, it isn't because I'm Julia Child. It's mostly because I never have all the ingredients I need and so I improvise on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes this makes for better recipes, and other times, . . . well, let's just say I promise not to post the results of those times.
Geo's Ful-ish Black Beans
Sort, rinse, and soak overnight:
1 pound black beans in
2 quarts water
Next morning, bring beans and water to a boil, then simmer, covered, till beans are tender. Drain beans right away, before they cool.
Mix with beans:
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2/3 cup juice of lemons and limes
6 hefty garlic cloves, pressed
1 cup chopped fresh tomatoes
1/3 cup dried parsley
kosher salt to taste
black pepper to taste
Top with:
1 cup chopped fresh tomatoes
1 lime, peeled and cut into tiny slivers
This is good at any temperature. I would recommend serving a really nice basic bread with it, so you can freely dip into the juices. Trust me.
So, it's just me and the dog tonight. I think it'll be an early-to-bed evening, because tomorrow I surely have to cope with an early-to-rise morning. Spidey's mom is going to the temple for the first time, and she's asked me to be her escort. We've got to be there by 6:3oam, such a rude hour for a Saturday, but that's okay. It will be worth the price of a little sleep, and then some.
I read a great quote today:
"We can respond to irritation with a smile instead of scowl, or by giving warm praise instead of icy indifference. By our being understanding instead of abrupt, others, in turn, may decide to hold on a little longer rather than to give way. Love, patience, and meekness can be just as contagious as rudeness and crudeness." (Neal A. Maxwell, "The Tugs and Pulls of the World," Ensign, Nov. 2000, 36)
That's what I'd very much like to be guilty of spreading: good will. Right now, about all I have to spread are germs, but this shall pass. When the cooties have flown and I'm fit for society again, I'll work on the beautiful contagion thing.
How about some easy, practical opportunities to spread some good will?
Here's an exciting humanitarian project I learned about today. Readers and other book lovers take note.
And here are some ideas especially for knitters and others who do strange things with yarns and fibers, from the latest issue of Knitty (a generally terrific online knit mag): one is about sharing your stash, and the other is about knitting for charity. Excellent ideas.
It seems so easy to get hung up on the false idea that service to others has to be hard and at times even scary. I'm convinced that each of us can do something valuable without instantly being ejected from our familiar worlds. You just have to think creatively to find ways to apply your own particular interests and talents to the concept of giving to others. If you love something, if you know how to do something, you can bet your boots there's somebody else in the world, even in your world, maybe right next to you, who would appreciate your help in gaining access to it as well.
Hey, where's my soapbox?
Ready for another recipe? Believe me, this one is good. This one makes me want to cry for people who either can't or won't eat garlic. This one's worth buying a new box of Altoids to mask your breath for the next two days. Hoo boy, it's tasty! Again, it's an adaptation of a dish from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant. In case you're wondering why I'm always tweaking recipes, it isn't because I'm Julia Child. It's mostly because I never have all the ingredients I need and so I improvise on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes this makes for better recipes, and other times, . . . well, let's just say I promise not to post the results of those times.
Geo's Ful-ish Black Beans
Sort, rinse, and soak overnight:
1 pound black beans in
2 quarts water
Next morning, bring beans and water to a boil, then simmer, covered, till beans are tender. Drain beans right away, before they cool.
Mix with beans:
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2/3 cup juice of lemons and limes
6 hefty garlic cloves, pressed
1 cup chopped fresh tomatoes
1/3 cup dried parsley
kosher salt to taste
black pepper to taste
Top with:
1 cup chopped fresh tomatoes
1 lime, peeled and cut into tiny slivers
This is good at any temperature. I would recommend serving a really nice basic bread with it, so you can freely dip into the juices. Trust me.
09 September 2004
And now for something completely negligible . . .
Yesterday's post disappeared into cyber space just as I was putting the finishing touches on it. It was all about spending the afternoon making Magic Pants with Anna and Jeanne (who didn't make pants, but cheered us on). I haven't yet felt like re-creating that post--last night's computer glitch deflated me--but I'm sure as soon as I've completed my pants, I'll be eager to share and explain the process. Tonight, I'm weary and ready for some non-kinetic sleep, so I'll let this post balance out my last eye-popper by being on the short side.
Rob and I are both ill. Rob suspects that Joh infected us with the flu right before she left for Ethiopia. I mention this as a lead-in and perhaps an apology for links to our latest free library movie selections, which we watched tonight.
CAFE OWNER: "What shall it be?"
NINOTCHKA: "Raw beets and carrots."
CAFE OWNER: "Madame, this is a restaurant, not a meadow."
Okay, so we didn't finish that one. Rob feverishly whined through the first half of it and we gave up. But I still like Garbo.
After popping a giant bowl of popcorn we settled back in and revived our sickly spirits more effectively with Mrs. Brown. We give it two thumbs up! Judi Dench and Billy Connolly were both very good. The movie was well-cast and well-done. I don't think I've ever not liked Judi Dench; she's consistently impressive.
That's enough for tonight. Slumberland, here I come.
Oh, but hold on. I wanted to share a quick recipe, another adaptation, this time inspired by The New Laurel's Kitchen, one of my personal cookbook classics.
Geo's Seedy Oats Pie Crust
Pulverize 2 cups of rolled oats and 1/2 cup sunflower seeds in a blender or food processor, till you get a rough-looking flour with a very few larger bits of oats still lingering. Stir in 1/2 teaspoon salt. Add a few tablespoons of water and mix till it begins to hold together (start with 2 tablespoons and work up, taking care not to add too much). Press into a pie plate, either a 9" or a 10". Bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 minutes. Then you can fill it and proceed with your pie recipe.
I used this crust for a quiche today, and it was very tasty. It would work equally well for both savory and dessert pies.
Now, goodnight. Forget what I said about balance. Everybody who knows me knows that's not my gig anyhow.
UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! (16 September)
Here's a photo of Rob wearing Anna's original magic pants, the prototype for our recent sewing projects. On Rob, these are really magic floods, but no matter, he's about to do quite the amazing combo of white boy ninja and haka moves, to honor his New Jersey grandmother's 90th birthday. Tough guys like him can't be bothered with sissy details like hemlines. It was a memorable performance, to say the least.
Rob and I are both ill. Rob suspects that Joh infected us with the flu right before she left for Ethiopia. I mention this as a lead-in and perhaps an apology for links to our latest free library movie selections, which we watched tonight.
CAFE OWNER: "What shall it be?"
NINOTCHKA: "Raw beets and carrots."
CAFE OWNER: "Madame, this is a restaurant, not a meadow."
Okay, so we didn't finish that one. Rob feverishly whined through the first half of it and we gave up. But I still like Garbo.
After popping a giant bowl of popcorn we settled back in and revived our sickly spirits more effectively with Mrs. Brown. We give it two thumbs up! Judi Dench and Billy Connolly were both very good. The movie was well-cast and well-done. I don't think I've ever not liked Judi Dench; she's consistently impressive.
That's enough for tonight. Slumberland, here I come.
Oh, but hold on. I wanted to share a quick recipe, another adaptation, this time inspired by The New Laurel's Kitchen, one of my personal cookbook classics.
Geo's Seedy Oats Pie Crust
Pulverize 2 cups of rolled oats and 1/2 cup sunflower seeds in a blender or food processor, till you get a rough-looking flour with a very few larger bits of oats still lingering. Stir in 1/2 teaspoon salt. Add a few tablespoons of water and mix till it begins to hold together (start with 2 tablespoons and work up, taking care not to add too much). Press into a pie plate, either a 9" or a 10". Bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 minutes. Then you can fill it and proceed with your pie recipe.
I used this crust for a quiche today, and it was very tasty. It would work equally well for both savory and dessert pies.
Now, goodnight. Forget what I said about balance. Everybody who knows me knows that's not my gig anyhow.
UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! (16 September)
Here's a photo of Rob wearing Anna's original magic pants, the prototype for our recent sewing projects. On Rob, these are really magic floods, but no matter, he's about to do quite the amazing combo of white boy ninja and haka moves, to honor his New Jersey grandmother's 90th birthday. Tough guys like him can't be bothered with sissy details like hemlines. It was a memorable performance, to say the least.
07 September 2004
Twittertail
"You're always so busy! You better slow down! You do too much. [Businesslike] You got a house to keep up, you got your business, you got a husband, [chucklingly] you got them three babies to take care of, you got a garden to work in, you got them flower beds in the front, you got jobs in the church.... [heavily] You know you do too much. [prophetically] You better slow down! [hotly] I want you to slow down and get some rest, and stop doing so much. You hear?"
My rebuttal to Gram:
(1) I don't do too much. Really, it seems like I never get anything done.
(2) I don't have any babies. I have an indoor dog, an outdoor cat, and a backyard bantam. I don't recall giving birth to any of these creatures.
(3) I do have a husband, a very nice one, and he's taken over the late-summer gardening duties.
(4) I grow lavender and sedum in the front yard, or rather, they grow themselves. You couldn't hope to find two more tenacious and tolerant plants. Go ahead, try them in your own neglected spaces and you'll see what I mean.
(5) As for church, I do a little visiting and a little teaching here and there, and I try to organize a yearly history of our congregation. I wouldn't call that burdensome.
(6) Okay, maybe if I could actually do everything I would like to, I would be doing too much, but as I've already said, I feel like an underachiever.
(7) Every time I close my eyes, even just for a nap, I fall immediately into dreams—vivid, kinetic stuff. I've often been known to wake up exhausted after my forays into Slumberland. I think I might get more actual rest when I'm awake and moving.
Hey, wait. This is my blog. Shouldn't the very first words of the very first post be my own, not my grandmother's? Hmm. Well, maybe it isn't so strange to want to let her have her say to start with; I'm very aware these days that she urgently needs to have a voice. Besides, she was here on the planet before I was, and her efforts, I'm sure, have helped mold me into the loving, striving, yet richly dysfunctional adult I am today.
I'm sure I will talk more of my grandmother later. I will talk of both my grandmothers before my words run out. I've got a lot of words.
I've also got a lot of recipes. I made something tasty for dinner (or supper, in Gramspeak) this evening: a revised version of Tomatican from Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home. (Check out the Moosewood cookbooks if you have any tastebuds at all.)
I finally came up with a new design for our web page this evening. I've been banging my head against this project for so long, and at last a very simple inspiration has come, one that I think will evolve nicely. What a relief. I believe many things will be able to go forward again once I get us past the outdated web page obstacle.
This blog is already getting quite long, and I'm just on day one. I've done online journalling before, but this is my first time blogging. Will I be truncated if I'm too loquacious?
Oh, yes—a "twittertail" is somebody who is all-over-the-place busy. You know the kind: can't keep still, makes you tired and nervous just watching. It's generally a mixed term: 80% exasperation and 20% affection. My grandmother has called me this before, in an attempt to work some bootless discipline on me, but it's never done any good. Anyway, I'm not a twittertail. It is one of my favorite words, however.
Would you like to learn how to draw your very own twitter bird?
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep!
My rebuttal to Gram:
(1) I don't do too much. Really, it seems like I never get anything done.
(2) I don't have any babies. I have an indoor dog, an outdoor cat, and a backyard bantam. I don't recall giving birth to any of these creatures.
(3) I do have a husband, a very nice one, and he's taken over the late-summer gardening duties.
(4) I grow lavender and sedum in the front yard, or rather, they grow themselves. You couldn't hope to find two more tenacious and tolerant plants. Go ahead, try them in your own neglected spaces and you'll see what I mean.
(5) As for church, I do a little visiting and a little teaching here and there, and I try to organize a yearly history of our congregation. I wouldn't call that burdensome.
(6) Okay, maybe if I could actually do everything I would like to, I would be doing too much, but as I've already said, I feel like an underachiever.
(7) Every time I close my eyes, even just for a nap, I fall immediately into dreams—vivid, kinetic stuff. I've often been known to wake up exhausted after my forays into Slumberland. I think I might get more actual rest when I'm awake and moving.
Hey, wait. This is my blog. Shouldn't the very first words of the very first post be my own, not my grandmother's? Hmm. Well, maybe it isn't so strange to want to let her have her say to start with; I'm very aware these days that she urgently needs to have a voice. Besides, she was here on the planet before I was, and her efforts, I'm sure, have helped mold me into the loving, striving, yet richly dysfunctional adult I am today.
I'm sure I will talk more of my grandmother later. I will talk of both my grandmothers before my words run out. I've got a lot of words.
I've also got a lot of recipes. I made something tasty for dinner (or supper, in Gramspeak) this evening: a revised version of Tomatican from Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home. (Check out the Moosewood cookbooks if you have any tastebuds at all.)
Geo's Improvised Tomatican
Sauté together, until onion softens:
1 gigantic onion, sliced thinly
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1 healthy blat of extra-virgin olive oil
Add and continue to sauté till beans are thawed and steaming (adding a little water, if needed):
2 teaspoons dried ground cumin
1 lb. bag frozen baby lima beans
Add, cover, and simmer for 10 minutes (or till vegies are as tender as you wish):
several handfuls of fresh, coarsely chopped tomatoes
2 cups frozen corn
salt
Serve this over quinoa (1 cup grain + 2 cups water brought to a boil, covered, then simmered for 15 minutes or till water is all cooked away) and top with grated cheddar cheese. If your tomatoes are yellow like mine were, this is an especially summery, cheerful dish. Yum.On a less sunshiney note, our car died on me today. The timing was amazing, though, so I couldn't let myself complain; Gram and I had spent a long morning hunting and gathering at Wal-Mart (her choice, not mine), and it wasn't till after I'd safely deposited her home and helped her put her groceries away that the old Trooper stopped trooping. I had literally made it no farther than out of her parking lot and into the street when it went kaput. I managed to slowly coax it into the parking lot in front of Shirley's Bakery, and on an empty stomach but with a deep determination to shun sugar, I braved the allurements of bear claw and butterhorn and used Shirley's phone to call home. Rob and Bryce showed up before too long and we got the Trooper home again. I'm so grateful this didn't happen while I was out with Gram. I don't know which would have puddled first: the grandmother or her Pict-Sweet frozen corn. The other thing I'm grateful for is the use of Joh and Andy's car while they're out of the country for nine weeks (gosh, starting today, how about that?). It might send Rob and I both clear over the edge to be carless at this point. I don't know what we're going to do about our deteriorating transportation situation, but... well, I can't think about that right now.
I finally came up with a new design for our web page this evening. I've been banging my head against this project for so long, and at last a very simple inspiration has come, one that I think will evolve nicely. What a relief. I believe many things will be able to go forward again once I get us past the outdated web page obstacle.
This blog is already getting quite long, and I'm just on day one. I've done online journalling before, but this is my first time blogging. Will I be truncated if I'm too loquacious?
Oh, yes—a "twittertail" is somebody who is all-over-the-place busy. You know the kind: can't keep still, makes you tired and nervous just watching. It's generally a mixed term: 80% exasperation and 20% affection. My grandmother has called me this before, in an attempt to work some bootless discipline on me, but it's never done any good. Anyway, I'm not a twittertail. It is one of my favorite words, however.
Would you like to learn how to draw your very own twitter bird?
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep!
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