Cooking

I have been working upon a post including recipes of my last two ventures into Sunday Night Dinner. How do people blog and include recipes so regularly? It is beyond me, but I am justifiably awed. I have been reading some more Saveur and M.F.K. Fisher. There is perhaps nothing as tempting as an articulate article or book concerning food to me. Have you ever read about a cooking process in which each sense is employed? How a family's memory can be exemplified by a meal or even a shared dish? How luscious an unknown dessert tastes? I have lists of cookbooks, books and memoirs concerning food that I wish to own and read. Did you know they have culinary themed mysteries with recipes included? I delight in those as well. What is better than food and a murder mystery after all?

In the stacks of reading material next to my bed (Of course I need not include the magazines and books on the bench at the foot of my bed nor the slipper chair now devoted to holding a couple of stacks of magazines and cookbooks nor the stack of magazines on my wooden chest. Let me not also include the books and magazines in my closet, under my bed, those two or three magazines placed on my dresser nor those actually organized on shelves) are various current cooking magazines such as Fine Cooking and at least two cookbooks I am reading through (yes, I actually read them like they are novels when I have the chance). Of course in the process of reading The Tex-Mex Cookbook and the like, I am also reading bits of Northanger Abbey, flipping through various art related publications and less illustrious books. I love the time researching, reading and learning about food as much as actually eating or cooking food. This may be because I am more a thinker (let us not qualify the quantity of my thoughts) than doer. I am not one to jump into doing something without educating myself about it. I wonder why then I spend so much time with cooking related books and dedicate so little time to learning about systems of government, democracy, my government or even citizenship?

I have only recently ventured into visiting websites of Ron Paul, Barack Obama and John McCain. Next I will need to examine Mitt Romney and Hillary Clinton--I have given her a lot of slack because I have wanted a serious woman candidate for president. Too often I vote for a rather odd reason: diversity. I will vote Republican if the candidate is a woman or a minority. I try to vote outside the two parties too. My belief being that few candidates actually represent what I want, but I can vote for people to represent more of the population than just white Christian males. I want to promote questions. I want discussion and debate--not ideological bickering, but serious thought on what problems we face, the possible alternatives and ways to compromise. I want politicians to examine and reexamine the details of a decision, which has ramifications for their constituents. If we are going to consider war I want there to be due process before declaring war--I want it to be difficult to commit our troops. I don't want to be told that there is only one acceptable family structure. I do not wish to encourage complaisance and derision of others by touting our country’s superiority. Yes, we are fortunate, but we also always need to grow and improve and we have much to learn from other cultures, countries, religions and governmental structures...to not let empty self-righteousness and arrogance erode what traditions should be continuously remembered and built upon.

Personally, I see many ways we can improve as a nation and as individuals. We are not meant to remain frozen and nature will do everything in her power to cause change. One thing I learned in my cookbooks and ventures into the cooking world is that recipes aren't exact (baking though is more like science) and they are meant as guidelines for a process. We want pat equations and answers and there aren't such things. If you continue to use the same recipe your meal will still not come out exactly the same each time. Much of life is a lot like cooking--you make do with what you have on hand, use your best judgment from experience (ask your family and friends for further help) and improvise as best you can.

Happy New Year!

Perhaps you thought I had abandoned you, but that is not true. I tried to write posts in the month of December as things had happened and yet they were tepid attempts at best. As 2008 begins I wanted to make sure I ended the unintended silence.

I am not sure I believe in resolutions (probably because I don't follow through), but I do believe in having dreams and aspirations for the future. New Year's is a convenient time to begin anew. It's a lovely even date to begin charting the rest of your life. Still what it doesn't address is that each day you need to wake up and see it as a new start, a new beginning. A friend told me he sees New Year's as any other day and I think it is because he tries everyday to make it matter--he has no need to make resolutions...to have a wake up call to examine his life because he does it all the time. It is difficult to remain aware of your life, to be present for the mundane as well as the extraordinary, to listen to someone even as they wander into topics which bore you (say break fluid), to not want to rush through the slow parts to get to the more interesting ones....

Something wonderful occurred in 2007. I believe people come into your life for a purpose or rather that each person who enters your life can teach you something. There was someone who taught me (unbenownst to them!) that no matter how low I felt I still had hope and there was still something redeeming in me. This person also taught me to look at others and see that they too may hurt and need some simple kindness. I learned that rather than protecting oneself from pain to feel, reach out and try because I could heal from rejection. I began to like a strength in me I had scoffed at and feared for far too long. I began to forgive myself for my mistakes and errors. I felt I had done enough penance and even the injured party had forgiven me years before. I stopped looking back at my life full of recrimination, guilt and regret. My actions in the past made sense. When I did not like how I may have acted in the past I still saw the reasoning behind it and realized how I may be able to change it in the future.

I did not do all this entirely alone. Always I had friends and my family (and dogs). In 2007 I finally could not only recognize how blessed I was...I felt it. I encountered some wonderful new friends who helped to illuminate a potential future completely of my own making and who made me laugh at the silly and the grave parts of life. I tried to reconnect with old friends who meant a great deal to me. I have only been partially successful with the reconnection, but I have begun and that is enough for now. I realize that life is not in the results, but in the process no matter how messy, confusing and frustrating.

I wanted to thank everyone for their support and well wishes concerning the death of little Leia. It was difficult and yet a lesson I take to heart. I am still saddened by her death, but I have faith and I have hope which I may not have had only a few short months ago and when my faith and hope was not enough I had my friends and family. Life is good.

In the end I wish to live my life in a manner that honors who I am and my beliefs. I believe that 2008, like 2007, will be a monumental year. I hope you too are as fortunate as I am! Happy New Year (and day!).

Our Princess

Amongst the merriment of holiday parties, baking (and eating) cookies, decorating our house like candyland, the joyous noice of friends laughing and talking came an event that reminded me that there is a reason we savor the chances we have to be with our loved ones.

This past Sunday night in a most unexpected way during the second party we hosted at our house this weekend our 2 1/2 year old yorkshire terrier--whose full name is Leia Amadala Elizabeth with the title of princess--died (her name as a puppy was Princess and although she certainly thought herself as royalty, I wanted to give her a more formal name).

My mother climbed the stairs cradling our poor Pookie (a silly nickname for Leia) in her arms, her eyes already swollen and streaming with tears telling us the bizarre way she literally dropped dead. Less than an hour earlier I remembered Leia's little nails clicking against the floor as she paced in her flittery way and the next she was gone. I cried off and on Sunday night, but cried most the next morning as I got ready for work and at the office.

Leia blossomed when she was allowed to go to work and could be the only dog for several hours a week. She was so well behaved and a delight to clients who came into appointments only to be greeted by an adorable 4 pound silver and tan ball of energy. As I looked at the almonds my eyes teared up because Leia also helped me eat whenever she was around. She would dance and anxiously sit to gain pieces of almond, biscuit, cracker or whatever else I happened to be eating. When someone left the office to run an errand, she would sit or lay at the door awaiting their return. I used to also throw a bone or stuffed dog for her to chase. She made us all smile and made the office a happier place to be.

This holiday season even as you are drowning in shopping lists, wrapping gifts, rushing to one party after another take a moment and appreciate the most important thing about the holidays and life: the relationship with people you love and care about and the animals that grace us with their unceasing love and profound joy.

All Because I Searched for "American Beauty"

In my search for American Beauty among the various films owned, I came across several I hadn't seen or some that caught my notice like Killer Klowns from Outer Space. For some reason Killer Klowns from Outer Space reminded me of a movie I vividly recall watching at my grandparents' house when I was no more than 4 years old (probably with my uncle who was around 16 at the time)...it was about alien/monster men with dark fibrous green skin pretending to be human in order to procreate with human women. The ending scene remains burned in my mind: that of a woman giving birth to a child only to scream in horror when she sees her baby is a monster. For decades I have tried to find out what film I saw so I may see it again. Will I feel sadness for the poor green baby? Will there be a different reaction to the film or will it trigger some embedded reaction? Dear reader, if you have a clue of the name of this movie and tell me you will become my hero!

Along with this movie I have images of The Amityville Horror residing in my brain (especially of an open window suddenly falling upon someone which was something that killed a young brother of a friend of mom). The scariest film for me though was Jaws and I still have not seen the movie again all these years later. The music alone is enough to make my skin crawl and I am not alone. I realize now I may have been more affected by these movies than I thought; perhaps they imprinted a seed of suspicion and of anxiety (although my current phobia of sharks can safely be blamed entirely on Jaws), but I think it was also the time in which I was young and most impressionable....

The mid to later 1970's and early 1980's were a time when it seemed danger and evil lurked behind seemingly pleasant facades and the world was becoming a truly frightening place. There was a rise in violent crime and such fearful things as serial killers, cults, terrorism, gangs, drugs and kidnappings dominating the news. Additionally, at this time the country was still reeling from and wounded by the Vietnam War and Watergate, which created a growing distrust for the government and the enforcers of such a government further deepening the unease. I am not sure if that time was any more dangerous than any other time, but it certainly felt that way.

As I write this the underlying fear I felt as a child resurfaces. Did other children also see the world as one riddled with danger and horror? As a child I would play a game that as long as I was under my covers I was safe. I never kept my closet door open (I still can't). Dreams manufactured by my mind no matter how gruesome were more soothing than reality. As a child, I also worried about child abduction. I had heard enough about it on the news, there were those sensational tv movies about it and my mother told me "true" stories meant to scare me into obedience...they did. One I recall was about a local child who had either wandered away from her mother or became separated from her mother at a department store only to be abducted by a woman and rushed into the department store's bathroom where the stranger quickly cut and dyed the child's hair. Only did the mother's screams and the locking of the department store doors keep the child from being kidnapped. My mom then stressed that everything had happened in a matter of minutes. My mother sincerely feared for such situations and possibilities and wanted me to remain ever vigilant. In conjunction with those present-day fears were also the looming horrors of the Holocaust. My boogieman had a face growing up and he looked remarkably like Adolf Hitler.

Whatever the causes, I harbored distrust and doubt about people and their potential for doing devastating acts against each other. I did not limit my doubt and distrust to others, but also began to see the same patterns in my own thoughts and actions. For many years I feared myself as much as anyone else. I wonder though what are the costs of such caution and legacy of fear? When do you learn to trust? Bad things undoubtedly occur, but it is also harmful to expect the worst to happen. People can be profoundly terrible and yet they can be profoundly magnificent. We make daily decisions weighing dozens of impulses and temptations. We constantly must choose and we are constantly given a new chance to triumph over what makes us small. I try to see the best in people and also accept that they also endure challenges which may sorely test them.

I type, think and say the words “hope” and “wish” quite frequently, because I do hope and wish frequently. My fear of humanity’s failings is now eclipsed by what I believe, hope and an adult’s awareness of the bounty I have received. I have been blessed to experience overwhelming the best in life, nature and people. I think with that gift also comes a responsibility on my part to share such fortune with others so perhaps they might see the possibilities and positive if they are not able to do so. We all need a little hope infused into every day and I hope that by treating others with respect and appreciation I may make their day a little easier and their perception of others a bit brighter.

Saturday night I went out into the backyard with my red dachshund, Dexter, and we each experienced nature around us. While I leaned against the brick exterior of the house, he sat silent. While I stood with my head tilted upwards, he stood looking around him. I felt a rush of goodwill as I looked up into the sky with the canopy of leaves hanging over my head and I wondered if the trees carried messages upon the breeze. I felt small and protected and I hope that is what Dexter feels when he looks up to me. Each of us has someone or something looking up to us even as we, ourselves, crick our necks to see above us.

I am often sent email forwards from friends with funny anecdotes, quizzes, questionnaires or moving messages and I rarely forward them on. I don’t forward them on because I don’t know who or who not to send such things. A forward can put me into a quandary. If I don’t send someone a blessing, am I therefore saying I don’t wish him or her well even when I know they don’t like forwards? If I do, does that mean they are more important to me than someone I don’t exchange forwards with? Oh, the dilemma! I am going to share one with you, dear reader, as I may like the message behind this one most of all:

Recently I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure.

Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said, "I love you and I wish you enough."

The daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom."

They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry.

I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?"

"Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?"

"I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is - the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.

"When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough'. May I ask what that means?"

She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. "When we said, 'I wish you enough', we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them."

Then turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

She then began to cry and walked away.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them but then an entire life to forget them.

For those who send me forwards: I did pray (623,096), I am Katharine Hepburn and I am grateful that you thought enough of me to send me any email that did not try to sell me something. I think the world of you.

Dear reader, I wish you and all in your life enough.

Spirits

Having been enthralled like many millions by the Harry Potter series, I also became ensnared by children and young adult literature. Today I finished reading Nancy Farmer's The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm set in Zimbabwe in the year of 2194. It is an intriguing future world intermixing such things as: evil genetically engineered blue monkeys; a wasteland being mined for rare plastic; a sequestered preserve in the middle of a bustling city with no modern technology; a mile-high building which is a vertical city in itself and spirits of ancestors, animals and the land. The characters of this delightful book are just as varied and colorful, but, dear reader, you can read more about that yourself by reading the link provided.

What I am most interested in discussing right now is spirits. In the book the living are constantly aware of the spiritual realm. Most important of all the spirits was the mhondoro: the lion spirit or spirit of the land. Everyone living in Zimbabwe belonged to the mhondoro, every creature that had ran, ate, played, hunted, loved and died on the land belonged to the mhondoro.

How many of us now are trying to reconnect with such a spirit in whichever land we call home? No matter how sleek our architecture or how powerful our artificial intelligence we all need to feel connected to the very essence of life in some way. Some of us only need to dig into the moist earth and foster growth, others need to explore the oceans, others pound into dough like their grandmother before them, others may hike trails or search for another bird and still others surround themselves in the sounds, motions and rituals of devotion and worship. What they all search for is a sense of belonging. Belonging necessitates relationships--a sense of community and participation in something greater than the individual.

I am a practical and dubious person when it comes to spirituality and the unexplained, or at least I was. Still, I am moved by more than the tangible. It took generations to create a modern life. Perhaps those before us linger and matter more than we realize. With each person we encounter we imprint a bit of ourselves on them--some more than others. We never know the full impact of a life: how we inspire another and what our words, actions or mere presence means.

It is strange to imagine, dear reader, that your life may impart such significance well into the future...that your spirit joins those before you and will be joined by those following you.


P.S. When I was searching for images using "spirit" as my keyword, I discovered this hauntingly beautiful photograph by Diane Varner (click on link to see the photo). Enjoy clicking through the rest of her photography of nature.