Last entry I hadn't put a lick of work into summer--can't say that anymore. Dad and I started paneling my office, aka the fitness room, aka the furnace room, aka family storage. The paneling is lovely, but it's more challenging than anticipated. At one point we had the entire family in the little basement room holding the panel in place in the dark because we'd accidently removed the light switch toggle, and it had flipped itself to off just before it fell off. I'm testing out the idea of converting to Catholicism, so I was trying very hard to remember which Saint is in charge of electricians. I didn't have much luck being a newcomer to all this Saint business. I ended up resorting to St. Jude who seemed both appropo and multi-purpose. The panel is up, the light switch is back on, and we're still ready to tackle the rest of it today, so my try it before you buy it approach is holding up.
All of that to say, I'm too busy to put together much poetry or stories. I'll try to do better tomorrow. If worst comes to worst, I'll pull something out of a file.
Blessings!
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Memorial Day
Continuing the theme of Living vs. Art. I let Memorial Day go totally unplanned, and it was wonderful. My parents came over, and my father took my husband out for a round of golf. While they were gone, mother and I had time for a very helpful chat. When they returned I threw dinner on the grill--corn on the cob, soaked and wrapped in foil and one of those ready-marinated pork loins. A little futzing with the world's easiest pasta salad (Tri-color rotini, cherry tomatoes, cucumber chunks, carrot shards and ranch dressing) and the meal was complete. The pork loin caught on fire, consuming what little fat it had managed to hang on to, and the meal took a half-hour longer to hit the table than anticipated, but no one cared. The corn was absolutely perfect with an appetite rousing odor that brought the summer immediately to life. Even the blackened pork roast was juicy and very flavorful. After, we headed to the backyard to swing in the hammock or rock in the rockers. The air was warm but not sultry and the light was at it's most charming. The children made flower wreaths and turned Nanny's hammock into a bower. All the living creatures that share our yard with us seemed to forget we were there and let us watch their evening play. This is going to be a wonderful summer, and I haven't put a lick of work into it yet.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Miss Ford
"My teacher is the most beautiful teacher in the whole world." Trissa made this declaration a week after school had started. I had heard that they'd hired a new second grade teacher, but I hadn't had the chance to make her acquaintance yet. My husband teaches sixth grade at St. John's where Trissa attends second grade. For several years, Bill has driven our neighbor's daughter to and from school so that her mother could work in the city. This year Trissa spends an hour with us each day after school. I enjoyed Trissa's chatter as much as she enjoyed my cookies and milk.
Trissa was full of gossip about the elementary school. The new music teacher had introduced some gospel music which had Sister Angelica riled up. One naughty boy had peed in the teacher's water fountain. And, of course, Trissa had endless praise for the most beautiful teacher in the world, Miss Ford.
Miss Ford has thick black hair she let the children brush for hours and hours every recess. Miss Ford told the best stories and played the most exciting games. Miss Ford had warm brown skin the color of toffee candy. The way that Trissa described it I wondered if she handn't been tempted to taste her teacher. A sweet blush told the answer.
I questioned Bill about this divine being and he had barely spoken to her. "She seems nice enough. She has excellent control of her classroom." and that was all Bill had to say about Trissa's goddess. The less Bill said the more intrigued I became. I began to press Trissa for details which she was delighted to supply. Miss Ford has deep brown eyes like Barney. (Barney is Trissa's basset hound.) Miss Ford packed her own lunch and it always smelled delicious. One day she had shared her chocolate cake with Trissa and Trissa had never tasted better cake.
What did Miss Ford wear? Miss Ford wore lovely, flowing gowns in floral prints. Trissa wasn't sure but she thought Miss Ford sewed them herself. Miss Ford had beautiful handwriting. I saw it on all of Trissa's papers. There was always a sweet note and a doodle at the top. The coup de grace was Trissa's field trip. Trissa's class was making the annual pilgrimage to Ye Olde Tyme Village to study the pioneers. Because Trissa's mother worked and couldn't drive, Trissa was given the exalted priviledge of riding with Miss Ford. No preparation for this miraculous event was overlooked. My offered cake was turned down in favor of extra Oreos. Trissa though of Oreos as the food of the gods and only Oreos were fit to share with her divine teacher. The right outfit, a floral print, was carefully laid out. Trissa barely slept for days before the trip. Bill's class was going as well, so I asked if any of his students were similarly excited.
"No," he'd said. "They've all been the the Village before and they're busy feigning boredom. Sixth graders aren't given to hero worship though a few of the boys are sweet on Miss Ford." Here Bill smiled a funny little grin that set my radar off.
"Do you need extra chaperones, sweetheart?" I asked.
Bill raised his eyebrow. Sixth graders give me hives. After a disasterous, class camping trip early in our marriage we'd agreed I needn't pretend to love his students. Bill happily shuttled between his two worlds and before this year I'd had no interest in school. Trissa's little infatuation had changed all that. Bill's co-workers had all been married or nuns previously. I'd never worried about any of those sensible, unpretentious ladies, but Miss Ford, the divine, had me worried.
I packed Bill's lunch for the field trip extra carefully, including a generous slice of my triple decker, chocolate and raspberry cake. The slice was big enough to be a generous treat, but not big enough to share. I made a perfect tuna fish sandwich wrapped in wax paper just the way his mother had done for all his school lunches. I included a thermos of coffee and a frozen juice box to keep everything fresh. It was quite the feast, and I lingered over our goodbye kiss in ways I'd neglected recently.
Bill kissed my forehead gently. "I'll be back at 3:30 on the dot, dear."
"I'll be waiting." I said.
Truer words I'd never spoken. The morning crawled toward lunch and the inevitable comparison of lunches. Of course mine would triumph, I had five years of fixing Bill's favorites. I knew what he liked. Still Trissa had praised that woman's cake to the high heavens. Maybe Bill was tired of his mother's tuna fish. My anxieties grew all afternoon until it seemed that 3:30 would never come--until it came, and went. No Bill, no Trissa, no reassuring tales of Miss Ford's disaserous first field trip. It was just me and way more of that chocolate raspberry cake than I care to admit until Trissa's mother came by at 4:30 and we both began to worry.
We piled into her Chevy and drove over to school where we were both greeted by an ecstatic Trissa who'd had a lovely day. Bill's car had broken down, so she'd been waiting on the playground for him to return or for her mother to come.
I hugged Trissa and thanked her mother for the ride. I'll stay and wait for Bill." I said.
Trissa's mother gave me a knowing smile. She'd heard more about Miss Ford than she cared for too.
It'd been a few years since I'd visited St. John's. The playground seemed in good repair, but I didn't feel like sitting on the teacher's bench. I wandered into school and over to Bill's classroom. Like everything of Bill's his classroom was tidy and efficient. There was some clutter that was obviously field trip related. I sat for a while until my curiosity was uncontrollable, and I walked down the hall to Miss Ford's second grade classroom. A woman's touch was everywhere in the room. Sunny yellow curtains billowed in a gentle breeze that ruffled the little pots of marigolds the children were growing. Spring themed bulletin boards abounded. The children's desks were in cozy clusters and Miss Ford's desk was as neat as a pin. She was remarkably professional for a first year teacher.
I decided to head down to the office in hopes of some news about Bill and his car. As I headed toward the office, I bumped into a new secretary. She was very professional in her appearance, well, for the most part. I found the Hawaiin print mumu a bit much, but her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she had a warm smile.
"You must be one of Mr. Walker's parents. I have been trying to locate his class list so that I could call the parents for the last half-hour. I have never felt so completely inept. I didn't even write down which students were riding in his car. I have a student of my own waiting on him for her ride home. I'm just going down to check on her now. Come along with me and I'll fill you in on all the details. I'm Evelyn, by the way, Eveyln Ford. I transferred over to fill the second grade vacancy. St. Ambrose was a little sparse this year."
It was a good thing Evelyn like to talk because I couldn't seem to find my voice at this shocking moment of revelation. Trissa's goddess was a short, squat, middle-aged woman in sensible shoes. My rival offered me a ride home which I gratefully accepted.
We found Bill at home bewildered by my absence. I invited Evelyn to stay for dinner, but she had other things to attend to.
Bill kissed my forehead. "Feel better?"
"You could have told me." I said.
"Told you what, that Evelyn is a lovely woman and an excellent teacher. I thought I did." he teased.
"Oh, shut up, and kiss me."
Trissa was full of gossip about the elementary school. The new music teacher had introduced some gospel music which had Sister Angelica riled up. One naughty boy had peed in the teacher's water fountain. And, of course, Trissa had endless praise for the most beautiful teacher in the world, Miss Ford.
Miss Ford has thick black hair she let the children brush for hours and hours every recess. Miss Ford told the best stories and played the most exciting games. Miss Ford had warm brown skin the color of toffee candy. The way that Trissa described it I wondered if she handn't been tempted to taste her teacher. A sweet blush told the answer.
I questioned Bill about this divine being and he had barely spoken to her. "She seems nice enough. She has excellent control of her classroom." and that was all Bill had to say about Trissa's goddess. The less Bill said the more intrigued I became. I began to press Trissa for details which she was delighted to supply. Miss Ford has deep brown eyes like Barney. (Barney is Trissa's basset hound.) Miss Ford packed her own lunch and it always smelled delicious. One day she had shared her chocolate cake with Trissa and Trissa had never tasted better cake.
What did Miss Ford wear? Miss Ford wore lovely, flowing gowns in floral prints. Trissa wasn't sure but she thought Miss Ford sewed them herself. Miss Ford had beautiful handwriting. I saw it on all of Trissa's papers. There was always a sweet note and a doodle at the top. The coup de grace was Trissa's field trip. Trissa's class was making the annual pilgrimage to Ye Olde Tyme Village to study the pioneers. Because Trissa's mother worked and couldn't drive, Trissa was given the exalted priviledge of riding with Miss Ford. No preparation for this miraculous event was overlooked. My offered cake was turned down in favor of extra Oreos. Trissa though of Oreos as the food of the gods and only Oreos were fit to share with her divine teacher. The right outfit, a floral print, was carefully laid out. Trissa barely slept for days before the trip. Bill's class was going as well, so I asked if any of his students were similarly excited.
"No," he'd said. "They've all been the the Village before and they're busy feigning boredom. Sixth graders aren't given to hero worship though a few of the boys are sweet on Miss Ford." Here Bill smiled a funny little grin that set my radar off.
"Do you need extra chaperones, sweetheart?" I asked.
Bill raised his eyebrow. Sixth graders give me hives. After a disasterous, class camping trip early in our marriage we'd agreed I needn't pretend to love his students. Bill happily shuttled between his two worlds and before this year I'd had no interest in school. Trissa's little infatuation had changed all that. Bill's co-workers had all been married or nuns previously. I'd never worried about any of those sensible, unpretentious ladies, but Miss Ford, the divine, had me worried.
I packed Bill's lunch for the field trip extra carefully, including a generous slice of my triple decker, chocolate and raspberry cake. The slice was big enough to be a generous treat, but not big enough to share. I made a perfect tuna fish sandwich wrapped in wax paper just the way his mother had done for all his school lunches. I included a thermos of coffee and a frozen juice box to keep everything fresh. It was quite the feast, and I lingered over our goodbye kiss in ways I'd neglected recently.
Bill kissed my forehead gently. "I'll be back at 3:30 on the dot, dear."
"I'll be waiting." I said.
Truer words I'd never spoken. The morning crawled toward lunch and the inevitable comparison of lunches. Of course mine would triumph, I had five years of fixing Bill's favorites. I knew what he liked. Still Trissa had praised that woman's cake to the high heavens. Maybe Bill was tired of his mother's tuna fish. My anxieties grew all afternoon until it seemed that 3:30 would never come--until it came, and went. No Bill, no Trissa, no reassuring tales of Miss Ford's disaserous first field trip. It was just me and way more of that chocolate raspberry cake than I care to admit until Trissa's mother came by at 4:30 and we both began to worry.
We piled into her Chevy and drove over to school where we were both greeted by an ecstatic Trissa who'd had a lovely day. Bill's car had broken down, so she'd been waiting on the playground for him to return or for her mother to come.
I hugged Trissa and thanked her mother for the ride. I'll stay and wait for Bill." I said.
Trissa's mother gave me a knowing smile. She'd heard more about Miss Ford than she cared for too.
It'd been a few years since I'd visited St. John's. The playground seemed in good repair, but I didn't feel like sitting on the teacher's bench. I wandered into school and over to Bill's classroom. Like everything of Bill's his classroom was tidy and efficient. There was some clutter that was obviously field trip related. I sat for a while until my curiosity was uncontrollable, and I walked down the hall to Miss Ford's second grade classroom. A woman's touch was everywhere in the room. Sunny yellow curtains billowed in a gentle breeze that ruffled the little pots of marigolds the children were growing. Spring themed bulletin boards abounded. The children's desks were in cozy clusters and Miss Ford's desk was as neat as a pin. She was remarkably professional for a first year teacher.
I decided to head down to the office in hopes of some news about Bill and his car. As I headed toward the office, I bumped into a new secretary. She was very professional in her appearance, well, for the most part. I found the Hawaiin print mumu a bit much, but her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she had a warm smile.
"You must be one of Mr. Walker's parents. I have been trying to locate his class list so that I could call the parents for the last half-hour. I have never felt so completely inept. I didn't even write down which students were riding in his car. I have a student of my own waiting on him for her ride home. I'm just going down to check on her now. Come along with me and I'll fill you in on all the details. I'm Evelyn, by the way, Eveyln Ford. I transferred over to fill the second grade vacancy. St. Ambrose was a little sparse this year."
It was a good thing Evelyn like to talk because I couldn't seem to find my voice at this shocking moment of revelation. Trissa's goddess was a short, squat, middle-aged woman in sensible shoes. My rival offered me a ride home which I gratefully accepted.
We found Bill at home bewildered by my absence. I invited Evelyn to stay for dinner, but she had other things to attend to.
Bill kissed my forehead. "Feel better?"
"You could have told me." I said.
"Told you what, that Evelyn is a lovely woman and an excellent teacher. I thought I did." he teased.
"Oh, shut up, and kiss me."
Sunday, May 28, 2006
great stories for girls
The Ordinary Princess This book is one of the beloved relics of my childhood. I love the story because it is the princess' ordinariness that makes her so extraordinary. While all of her sisters are the protypcial princess, Amy, the seventh princess, is gifted with ordinariness by her fairy godmother. The story is enriching because it teaches young women to value themselves just for themselves.
The Princess Knight Some of us were raised to be like the boys. We know how to fight like a man. Here is a cautionary tale for the fathers who raised us so. Don't expect us to forget all that and ride happily off with a man in a tin suit.
Knuffle Bunny Fathers occassionally underestimate the importance of various possessions or talents to their daughters and sad mishaps of the sort dramatized here take place. Learning to listen when it's only Knuffle Bunny at stake can save all sorts of trouble later.
Harriet the Spy (book)
Harriet the Spy (movie) This is an Ur text. If you want to discover what happens when you try to deprive a gifted young girl of her outlet, this is your book. Not only does Harriet fall apart she takes her world with her. Never underestimate the power of a girl.
The Quest for Camelot This undervalued gem exhalts a balanced relationship between the sexes. A young girl with dreams of knighthood dancing in her eyes finds the true fulfillment of her childhood dreams in partnership with a blind knight. The story is a little overambitious tackling environmental causes as well as gender equity, but still a very worthy tale on an undeveloped topic.
Dreamer My father introduced me to this movie. Though the part was originally written for a boy, the change of gender enriches the story. The power of a young girl's faith to carry her father's dreams is inspiring, and Dakota leaves us certain that she'll also be able to reach for her own. This is a powerful story brought to life by a powerful actress. A warm family feature that gives girls a real boost without dishonoring the contributions of fathers.
The Princess Knight Some of us were raised to be like the boys. We know how to fight like a man. Here is a cautionary tale for the fathers who raised us so. Don't expect us to forget all that and ride happily off with a man in a tin suit.
Knuffle Bunny Fathers occassionally underestimate the importance of various possessions or talents to their daughters and sad mishaps of the sort dramatized here take place. Learning to listen when it's only Knuffle Bunny at stake can save all sorts of trouble later.
Harriet the Spy (book)
Harriet the Spy (movie) This is an Ur text. If you want to discover what happens when you try to deprive a gifted young girl of her outlet, this is your book. Not only does Harriet fall apart she takes her world with her. Never underestimate the power of a girl.
The Quest for Camelot This undervalued gem exhalts a balanced relationship between the sexes. A young girl with dreams of knighthood dancing in her eyes finds the true fulfillment of her childhood dreams in partnership with a blind knight. The story is a little overambitious tackling environmental causes as well as gender equity, but still a very worthy tale on an undeveloped topic.
Dreamer My father introduced me to this movie. Though the part was originally written for a boy, the change of gender enriches the story. The power of a young girl's faith to carry her father's dreams is inspiring, and Dakota leaves us certain that she'll also be able to reach for her own. This is a powerful story brought to life by a powerful actress. A warm family feature that gives girls a real boost without dishonoring the contributions of fathers.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
alone
swinging at ease beneath the trees
watching the puzzle peace leaves
flirt in the teasing breeze
you would think it was relaxing
watching the puzzle peace leaves
flirt in the teasing breeze
you would think it was relaxing
Friday, May 26, 2006
My Room
I'm still working through Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own, but I am also working on my own room. We live in a larger home because we are a larger family, but still the only space left for my office is an unfinished corner of the basement. I like the metaphor of tucking in my little work space with all the plumbing and heating equipment in the basement. The room smells "cementy" and like a proper storehouse of family treasure. This is where our outdated computers with all their games live. This is where I keep the children's out of season or off size clothing. This is where the useful but not today things live. Part of me still sees my career as a writer in those terms. It is useful to be able to write, and someday in the future it will add to our income. Right now though my career is in storage. I come down here and give it a little spin every day. I write a little piece of foolishness for you my faithful readers, and I putz around with my manuscripts, but I'm not serious about it yet. I'm still fighting the programming from my childhood that says you can't have a career and a family. I'm sorry, but if I have to choose, the kids always come first.
But, and it's a big but--I'm starting to question the unquestionable. I'm starting to see, Hey, I write everyday, and the kids are still doing fine. I putz with my manuscripts and they are getting closer and closer to completion and I'm not on the road to divorce. The house is still fairly tidy, and I'm starting to work like a real writer. Maybe I can have all the all that I want. I'm not very greedy. I just want to write some stories, connect with the wider world and raise my kids. I don't think that's so much to ask of life.
My room is starting to reflect my changing attitude. My father and I are tentatively scheduled to add bead board to the one stud wall. I'm thinking of putting in a 4x8 panel of write/erase board, so that I can chart the plots and my progress on writing through them. I also love the idea of such a large space to scribble poem bits. My process for writing serious poems involves endless sheets of paper. I could save some trees with that white board. All the junk that I dumped in here is starting to find homes or head out to the final resting place of useless paraphenalia. I can't enter this room without straightening and organizing something lately. That's a good sign that pretty soon I'll be producing more than just this little bit of foolishness I've taken such pleasure in indulging. Thanks for reading everybody. You've helped me to evolve as a writer.
But, and it's a big but--I'm starting to question the unquestionable. I'm starting to see, Hey, I write everyday, and the kids are still doing fine. I putz with my manuscripts and they are getting closer and closer to completion and I'm not on the road to divorce. The house is still fairly tidy, and I'm starting to work like a real writer. Maybe I can have all the all that I want. I'm not very greedy. I just want to write some stories, connect with the wider world and raise my kids. I don't think that's so much to ask of life.
My room is starting to reflect my changing attitude. My father and I are tentatively scheduled to add bead board to the one stud wall. I'm thinking of putting in a 4x8 panel of write/erase board, so that I can chart the plots and my progress on writing through them. I also love the idea of such a large space to scribble poem bits. My process for writing serious poems involves endless sheets of paper. I could save some trees with that white board. All the junk that I dumped in here is starting to find homes or head out to the final resting place of useless paraphenalia. I can't enter this room without straightening and organizing something lately. That's a good sign that pretty soon I'll be producing more than just this little bit of foolishness I've taken such pleasure in indulging. Thanks for reading everybody. You've helped me to evolve as a writer.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Writing with the Neighbors
I spent a good chunk of last night addressing post cards. Vista Print came through again and let me print up 50 gorgeous, full-color postcards for free. I love Vista Print. The postcards are invites to writing seminars I'm offering this summer for kids and adults. I'm so excited. I've been planning since March. I'll be alternating between creative and expository writing so as to discover the largest number of writers in my neighborhood pool. I'm also offering seminars for the kids. I love teaching kids how to write. Kids are so creative and uninhibited. I did a little newspaper with the kids in my last neighborhood, but here I wanted to be more creative. Journalism is fun, but the whole idea is to teach them to write objectively. Fancy isn't encouraged in journalistic circles.
For a sneak peak at the schedule and curriculum look here. I admit it's ambitious, but I'm eager to begin building relationships with my neighbors, and I thought starting with the writers would be a natural fit for me. We are also over-loaded with kids, and I'm hoping that my children will expand their circle of friends through these seminars. I'll keep you posted. Invites are going out June 1st. If you live in my neighborhood keep your eyes peeled. If you don't, well, I'm sorry. Maybe I'll expand next summer.
Have a great day, and take some time to think about how you can expand your own circle of friends. It doesn't have to be a big ambitious project; you could just join someone else's great idea. Leaders need followers. Maybe you could get your family to set up a family blog. I've got to give blogspot major kudos. Not only have I begun to get really comfortable letting people read my work, I'm using it as a way to connect with others. This is an invaluable tool for those of us who love to work with words. Thanks Blogger for widening my world in a way that makes me feel safe and productive.
For a sneak peak at the schedule and curriculum look here. I admit it's ambitious, but I'm eager to begin building relationships with my neighbors, and I thought starting with the writers would be a natural fit for me. We are also over-loaded with kids, and I'm hoping that my children will expand their circle of friends through these seminars. I'll keep you posted. Invites are going out June 1st. If you live in my neighborhood keep your eyes peeled. If you don't, well, I'm sorry. Maybe I'll expand next summer.
Have a great day, and take some time to think about how you can expand your own circle of friends. It doesn't have to be a big ambitious project; you could just join someone else's great idea. Leaders need followers. Maybe you could get your family to set up a family blog. I've got to give blogspot major kudos. Not only have I begun to get really comfortable letting people read my work, I'm using it as a way to connect with others. This is an invaluable tool for those of us who love to work with words. Thanks Blogger for widening my world in a way that makes me feel safe and productive.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Love
silently screaming
the quaking stillness
marvels at such obtuse anglers.
the teaming see remains unfished.
the quaking stillness
marvels at such obtuse anglers.
the teaming see remains unfished.
Vegetarian Lasagna for Susan
I'm so glad you enjoyed the lasagna. I hope others will like it as well.
1 Box Barrilla No-Boil lasagna noodles
1 Jar good vegetarian spaghetti sauce
1 container Ricotta cheese
1 egg
1 box chopped spinach, thawed and drained
1 Tablespoon dried basil
1/2 cup or so of freshly grated Parmesan
2 Tablespoons or so of Olive Oil
3 large Portabello mushroom caps
1 can Artichoke hearts
3 cups Mozzerella cheese
1. Drizzle olive oil over the portabello mushroom caps and sprinkle with salt and pepper. If desired insert garlic slivers into the gills. Broil until browned and shriveled.
2. Combine ricotta, egg, spinach, basil and parmesan. Divide in thirds.
3. Spray a 9x13 pan with cooking spray and smear with spaghetti sauce.
4. Layer in 4 noodles.
5. Top with 1/3 ricotta mixture
6. Sprinkle 1 chopped Portabello and 1/3 of artichoke chunks over ricotta mixture.
7. Spread 1/3 jar of sauce over all.
8. Sprinkle with 1 cup mozzerella.
9. Repeat until all ingredients are used. You may add more grated Parmesan to the top it adds a nice salty note.
10. Bake 350 degree oven, covered for 30-45 minutes. The lasagna should be bubblings and the cheese melted. Uncover and let it brown slightly for about five more minutes. Let stand five minutes to solidify. Serve and enjoy!
1 Box Barrilla No-Boil lasagna noodles
1 Jar good vegetarian spaghetti sauce
1 container Ricotta cheese
1 egg
1 box chopped spinach, thawed and drained
1 Tablespoon dried basil
1/2 cup or so of freshly grated Parmesan
2 Tablespoons or so of Olive Oil
3 large Portabello mushroom caps
1 can Artichoke hearts
3 cups Mozzerella cheese
1. Drizzle olive oil over the portabello mushroom caps and sprinkle with salt and pepper. If desired insert garlic slivers into the gills. Broil until browned and shriveled.
2. Combine ricotta, egg, spinach, basil and parmesan. Divide in thirds.
3. Spray a 9x13 pan with cooking spray and smear with spaghetti sauce.
4. Layer in 4 noodles.
5. Top with 1/3 ricotta mixture
6. Sprinkle 1 chopped Portabello and 1/3 of artichoke chunks over ricotta mixture.
7. Spread 1/3 jar of sauce over all.
8. Sprinkle with 1 cup mozzerella.
9. Repeat until all ingredients are used. You may add more grated Parmesan to the top it adds a nice salty note.
10. Bake 350 degree oven, covered for 30-45 minutes. The lasagna should be bubblings and the cheese melted. Uncover and let it brown slightly for about five more minutes. Let stand five minutes to solidify. Serve and enjoy!
Between Dusting
The butterfly a lights
Its wings all golden hues
Fire on one's finger
The biting kiss of life.
Its wings all golden hues
Fire on one's finger
The biting kiss of life.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Youandme
I was inspired to write this one after studying two trees that were interwoven with each other. I've dedicated it to my husband, but I think it also represents the macro-organism we call humanity. "wonder" is replaced with a personal reference no one outside of family would understand so I leave it as is for you.
The gently woven “let us” of infringement
The holiness of “b” ing prepositions
The silent splendor of overlapping “leaves”
The peaceful “rustle” of the Spirit’s wind
The tender “foot see” of the interlacing roots
The patient “wonder” of the interdividual
at rest.
The gently woven “let us” of infringement
The holiness of “b” ing prepositions
The silent splendor of overlapping “leaves”
The peaceful “rustle” of the Spirit’s wind
The tender “foot see” of the interlacing roots
The patient “wonder” of the interdividual
at rest.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Art vs. Living
After I finished up my post for yesterday I began to worry. I worried that my faithful readers (Hi, Mom) would mistake my little one day novel as a pattern for living. It's a grand thing to invest some extra time and effort into an event large or small, but a day like my perfect Summer Sunday is a piece of art. Art for all its many glories is stale life. Trying to make all of your life into a piece of art will result in a distinct lack of living. Summer Sundays are meant to be a mixed bag. You need some sour and grim added into the mix. If all your summer Sundays are as perfect, planned and pleasant as the one I describe, then you are missing out on your own life.
Don't be afraid of the dark days and the arguments and the rainy disappointments that can even enter into our perfectly planned days. Embrace the unexpectedly or predictably unpleasant because those sharp tastes enrich your overall enjoyment of living. If you didn't know how terrible life can be, you wouldn't know to throw your soul wide open to the sweet when it came. My friend just reminded me of Browning's old poem Rabbi Ben Ezra. He's right; it's important to remember that the God who makes perfect days sends the disasters too. The God who gives us youth also gives us old age, and we must remember that all of His gifts are good.
So, enjoy the Summer Sunday, but don't substitute or mistake it for life. Life is much more flavorful and rich.
Don't be afraid of the dark days and the arguments and the rainy disappointments that can even enter into our perfectly planned days. Embrace the unexpectedly or predictably unpleasant because those sharp tastes enrich your overall enjoyment of living. If you didn't know how terrible life can be, you wouldn't know to throw your soul wide open to the sweet when it came. My friend just reminded me of Browning's old poem Rabbi Ben Ezra. He's right; it's important to remember that the God who makes perfect days sends the disasters too. The God who gives us youth also gives us old age, and we must remember that all of His gifts are good.
So, enjoy the Summer Sunday, but don't substitute or mistake it for life. Life is much more flavorful and rich.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Perfect Summer Sunday
I love event planning. I love planning period. This is my plan for at least one Sunday this summer. I find it like writing a living short story. Maybe you'd like to live one of my little stories. Here's the plan
Motto: Perfection starts the day before
Saturday: gather ingredients and prep food.
measure out the ingredients for Jody Smith's Banana Bread
1 and 1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 bananas
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 egg
purchase, gather
sandwich croissants or rolls
mixed cheese cubes
Sparkling Cider
lemonade
Ingredients for Broccoli slaw
1 pkg of Broccoli slaw-
1 pkg of ramen noodles any flavor.
~1/3 cup of slivered almonds
~1/3 cup of sunflower seeds
1/2 cup canola/vegetable/olive oil
1/4 cup sugar
ramen noodle package( the powder)
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
marshmallows
chocolate bars
graham crackers
Prepare: Toll House Cookie Bars and Chunky Chicken Salad
Bake Toll House Bars according to directions on the back of the chocolate chip bag
Combine ingredients for Chunky Chicken Salad
6 cups cooked chicken in bite-size chunks
1 cup celery, fine dice
1 cup red bell pepper, fine dice
1 cup sweet pickle cubes or relish
1 cup chopped granny smith apple
1 cup lite mayo
1/2 cup slivered almonds
2 Tablespoons tarragon
Cheat!:
purchase take it and bake it pizza (We love Sam's Club's pizza)
SUNDAY
1. Rise an hour earlier than everyone else.
2. Make up banana bread and put in the oven to bake.
3. Shower and get dressed.
4. Enjoy some quiet time with God.
5. Wake everyone with fresh banana bread and milk.
6. Get them dressed and out the door for church.
7. Come home and change into casual clothes.
8. Pack cooler with Chunky Chicken Salad, croissants, broccoli slaw ingredients, sparkling cider, lemonade, toll house cookie bars and cheese cubes.
9. Go to beach or park for kite flying, swimming.
10. Tidy up a bit.
11. Head to an open air concert.
12. Set up feast and enjoy the concert.
13. Linger in the fresh air and gab with friends after the concert.
14. Invite friends home for pizza and s'mores.
15. Gab and gnosh for the rest of the evening.
Motto: Perfection starts the day before
Saturday: gather ingredients and prep food.
measure out the ingredients for Jody Smith's Banana Bread
1 and 1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 bananas
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 egg
purchase, gather
sandwich croissants or rolls
mixed cheese cubes
Sparkling Cider
lemonade
Ingredients for Broccoli slaw
1 pkg of Broccoli slaw-
1 pkg of ramen noodles any flavor.
~1/3 cup of slivered almonds
~1/3 cup of sunflower seeds
1/2 cup canola/vegetable/olive oil
1/4 cup sugar
ramen noodle package( the powder)
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
marshmallows
chocolate bars
graham crackers
Prepare: Toll House Cookie Bars and Chunky Chicken Salad
Bake Toll House Bars according to directions on the back of the chocolate chip bag
Combine ingredients for Chunky Chicken Salad
6 cups cooked chicken in bite-size chunks
1 cup celery, fine dice
1 cup red bell pepper, fine dice
1 cup sweet pickle cubes or relish
1 cup chopped granny smith apple
1 cup lite mayo
1/2 cup slivered almonds
2 Tablespoons tarragon
Cheat!:
purchase take it and bake it pizza (We love Sam's Club's pizza)
SUNDAY
1. Rise an hour earlier than everyone else.
2. Make up banana bread and put in the oven to bake.
3. Shower and get dressed.
4. Enjoy some quiet time with God.
5. Wake everyone with fresh banana bread and milk.
6. Get them dressed and out the door for church.
7. Come home and change into casual clothes.
8. Pack cooler with Chunky Chicken Salad, croissants, broccoli slaw ingredients, sparkling cider, lemonade, toll house cookie bars and cheese cubes.
9. Go to beach or park for kite flying, swimming.
10. Tidy up a bit.
11. Head to an open air concert.
12. Set up feast and enjoy the concert.
13. Linger in the fresh air and gab with friends after the concert.
14. Invite friends home for pizza and s'mores.
15. Gab and gnosh for the rest of the evening.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Shadow Baby
This is an oldie, but I find the ideas intriguing. I dedicate it to my parents even though it isn't my best work they were the inspiration.
Once there was a world of shadows. Shadow people lived in shadow houses and drove shadow cars. Very little of the shadow world was real; everything was just shadows that looked real. There were, however, two shadow people who had been made real.
Being real made them different from the other shadow people. For one thing they glowed. People for miles around watched the two glowing people through the walls of their shadow house. Everyone wanted an invitation to the real shadow’s house. Some folks said if you talked to them long enough you could find out the secret of being real.
The two real shadows loved each other and their shadow house, but somehow it had seemed rather empty lately. The lady shadow fussed and cleaned and decorated the house, but that didn’t help. The man shadow invited more and more people to the shadow house, but they never filled the house.
As the real shadows pondered and prayed they slowly realized what they were missing—a shadow baby. As soon as the plan was decided upon, the real shadows went to work. People smiled for miles around as they watched the glowing shadows prepare. “There’ll soon be three glows in that shadow house.” They said.
Slowly but surely the day arrived and a shadow baby came to live in the little shadow house. The mommy shadow was so pleased with the beautiful shadow baby. She diapered and bottled and burped her with great joy, and most folks agreed she was glowing more brightly than usual. The daddy shadow couldn’t help showing the shadow baby to everyone because he was so proud of his shadow baby. But as people watched for miles around they were surprised. There were still only two glows living in the shadow house.
“Is your baby all right?” A neighbor came to ask. “I can’t see her little glow.”
“Oh, she doesn’t glow—not yet.” The shadow daddy answered.
“We’re hoping she’ll become real, soon.” The shadow mommy said.
“Oh.” The shadow neighbor said. So the word spread for miles around that the shadow baby wasn’t real yet.
“Hmmm,” The neighbors said as the years went by. “Maybe shadows can’t be made real.”
But the mommy shadow and the daddy shadow knelt down together and prayed.
Time went by and the little shadow baby became a shadow girl, who loved to play house. One day she called all of her shadow friends and they began to play house.
“You can be the daddy shadow and I’ll be the mommy shadow and little Sue can be the baby shadow.” Baby Shadow said.
“O.K., can we be your family?” asked her friend.
“Sure.” Said Baby Shadow.
“We need two flashlights to make us glow like your mom and dad.” The friend shadow said.
“What about little Sue? Won’t she need a flashlight?” The shadow baby asked.
“Baby shadows don’t glow; they’re just like everybody else.” He said.
Baby Shadow’s eyes grew wide. “Baby shadows don’t glow, even if their mommy and daddy glow?” She asked worriedly.
“Course not. Look at you. Your parents glow, but you don’t.” Baby Shadow’s friend explained matter-of-factly.
“I’ve got to go home now.” Baby Shadow said and began to run. She ran and ran as fast as she could to her little shadow house and her real shadow mommy.
“Mommy, Mommy, I don’t glow!” she cried as she crashed through the door.
The mommy shadow snuggled her baby shadow close to her heart while she prayed. When the sobs slowed to sniffles, and the prayer had been answered, the mommy shadow quietly said; “Baby Shadow, would you like to glow?”
Baby Shadow’s soggy face nodded.
“The only way to glow is to be made real.” Mommy said.
“Will you make me real, Mommy?” Baby Shadow asked.
“I can’t make you real, Baby; you’ll have to ask the Real Man to make you real.”
“Who is the Real Man, Mommy?” Baby Shadow was very curious now.
“The Real Man made Shadow world and all the shadow people. He meant for them to be real, but they decided to be shadows. The Real Man knows that someday the sun’s light will fill the whole world, and all of the shadows will disappear; only what is real will be left. But there was no way for the shadows to be made real.”
Baby Shadow interrupted. “You and Daddy are real.”
“Yes, we are, Baby Shadow.” Mommy continued, “We asked the Real Man to make us real. You see he became a shadow. He came here and lived in Shadow Land. We hated him because he glowed, so we took him out to the sun. The sun was so bright we thought that he had disappeared. We thought he was gone forever, and some of us missed his glow. A few days later he returned, and he was no longer a shadow—he was real. He was the first real shadow. He gave us the glow that makes us real.”
“Why don’t I glow then, Mommy?” The baby shadow asked.
“Because you have to ask the Real Man to make you real.” Mommy answered.
“Can I ask him right now?” Baby asked.
“Of course.”
“Do I have to go anywhere special?”
“No, you can ask him to make you real right here, right now, if you want to, Baby Shadow.” Mommy Shadow said.
“I want to, Mommy.” Baby said.
Right there in the little shadow house Baby Shadow was made real and started to glow.
“Look at that!” said all the people for miles around, “Baby Shadow is real!”
“The Real Man is real.” Said all the people for miles around, and some of them began to glow.
Once there was a world of shadows. Shadow people lived in shadow houses and drove shadow cars. Very little of the shadow world was real; everything was just shadows that looked real. There were, however, two shadow people who had been made real.
Being real made them different from the other shadow people. For one thing they glowed. People for miles around watched the two glowing people through the walls of their shadow house. Everyone wanted an invitation to the real shadow’s house. Some folks said if you talked to them long enough you could find out the secret of being real.
The two real shadows loved each other and their shadow house, but somehow it had seemed rather empty lately. The lady shadow fussed and cleaned and decorated the house, but that didn’t help. The man shadow invited more and more people to the shadow house, but they never filled the house.
As the real shadows pondered and prayed they slowly realized what they were missing—a shadow baby. As soon as the plan was decided upon, the real shadows went to work. People smiled for miles around as they watched the glowing shadows prepare. “There’ll soon be three glows in that shadow house.” They said.
Slowly but surely the day arrived and a shadow baby came to live in the little shadow house. The mommy shadow was so pleased with the beautiful shadow baby. She diapered and bottled and burped her with great joy, and most folks agreed she was glowing more brightly than usual. The daddy shadow couldn’t help showing the shadow baby to everyone because he was so proud of his shadow baby. But as people watched for miles around they were surprised. There were still only two glows living in the shadow house.
“Is your baby all right?” A neighbor came to ask. “I can’t see her little glow.”
“Oh, she doesn’t glow—not yet.” The shadow daddy answered.
“We’re hoping she’ll become real, soon.” The shadow mommy said.
“Oh.” The shadow neighbor said. So the word spread for miles around that the shadow baby wasn’t real yet.
“Hmmm,” The neighbors said as the years went by. “Maybe shadows can’t be made real.”
But the mommy shadow and the daddy shadow knelt down together and prayed.
Time went by and the little shadow baby became a shadow girl, who loved to play house. One day she called all of her shadow friends and they began to play house.
“You can be the daddy shadow and I’ll be the mommy shadow and little Sue can be the baby shadow.” Baby Shadow said.
“O.K., can we be your family?” asked her friend.
“Sure.” Said Baby Shadow.
“We need two flashlights to make us glow like your mom and dad.” The friend shadow said.
“What about little Sue? Won’t she need a flashlight?” The shadow baby asked.
“Baby shadows don’t glow; they’re just like everybody else.” He said.
Baby Shadow’s eyes grew wide. “Baby shadows don’t glow, even if their mommy and daddy glow?” She asked worriedly.
“Course not. Look at you. Your parents glow, but you don’t.” Baby Shadow’s friend explained matter-of-factly.
“I’ve got to go home now.” Baby Shadow said and began to run. She ran and ran as fast as she could to her little shadow house and her real shadow mommy.
“Mommy, Mommy, I don’t glow!” she cried as she crashed through the door.
The mommy shadow snuggled her baby shadow close to her heart while she prayed. When the sobs slowed to sniffles, and the prayer had been answered, the mommy shadow quietly said; “Baby Shadow, would you like to glow?”
Baby Shadow’s soggy face nodded.
“The only way to glow is to be made real.” Mommy said.
“Will you make me real, Mommy?” Baby Shadow asked.
“I can’t make you real, Baby; you’ll have to ask the Real Man to make you real.”
“Who is the Real Man, Mommy?” Baby Shadow was very curious now.
“The Real Man made Shadow world and all the shadow people. He meant for them to be real, but they decided to be shadows. The Real Man knows that someday the sun’s light will fill the whole world, and all of the shadows will disappear; only what is real will be left. But there was no way for the shadows to be made real.”
Baby Shadow interrupted. “You and Daddy are real.”
“Yes, we are, Baby Shadow.” Mommy continued, “We asked the Real Man to make us real. You see he became a shadow. He came here and lived in Shadow Land. We hated him because he glowed, so we took him out to the sun. The sun was so bright we thought that he had disappeared. We thought he was gone forever, and some of us missed his glow. A few days later he returned, and he was no longer a shadow—he was real. He was the first real shadow. He gave us the glow that makes us real.”
“Why don’t I glow then, Mommy?” The baby shadow asked.
“Because you have to ask the Real Man to make you real.” Mommy answered.
“Can I ask him right now?” Baby asked.
“Of course.”
“Do I have to go anywhere special?”
“No, you can ask him to make you real right here, right now, if you want to, Baby Shadow.” Mommy Shadow said.
“I want to, Mommy.” Baby said.
Right there in the little shadow house Baby Shadow was made real and started to glow.
“Look at that!” said all the people for miles around, “Baby Shadow is real!”
“The Real Man is real.” Said all the people for miles around, and some of them began to glow.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Dummies
for Virginia Woolf
I called myself dumbme
It was too early for mumme
insignificant difference
I was sent off to studhe
It was called debriefing
you could miss or Miss
I chose to Miss
It was just pretendshun
he Mrs'd me so
I thought their voices could speak four me
You may call it infancy
dumb misstake
I heard my cryit amplified
It was childrend
mum was the word
Dumbmes studhe ventriloquism.
I called myself dumbme
It was too early for mumme
insignificant difference
I was sent off to studhe
It was called debriefing
you could miss or Miss
I chose to Miss
It was just pretendshun
he Mrs'd me so
I thought their voices could speak four me
You may call it infancy
dumb misstake
I heard my cryit amplified
It was childrend
mum was the word
Dumbmes studhe ventriloquism.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Miss Carson's Farm in Summer
Chavo pulled his head back into the truck. He felt scared. What if Miss Carson hadn't liked his joke? What if she didn't want to hire his family? What had he done?
Big Pedro smiled at his son. "Chavo, what is wrong? One minute you are happy. The next you are sad. Tell me what is wrong."
"Papa, I put a bag of compost under Miss Carson's porch. I closed it up tight so it would smell. I think she will be mad at me. I think she might not hire you."
Big Pedro smiled. "I think she likes your jokes. She is your friend. You worked hard on the compost. You may make a little joke."
Chavo felt better. Miss Carson did like his jokes. She played pranks too. She had hired his family for several years. She would hire them this year.
Miss Carson was waiting in the drive. Her eyes smiled at Chavo. Chavo smiled back.
"Would you like to come and sit on the porch with me, Chavo?" she asked. Chavo and Big Pedro smiled. Miss Carson did like his joke.
"Welcome back, Pedro. It is good to see you again. Where is Young Rosa and the rest?" Miss Carson asked.
"They are riding in the camper. Only Chavo wanted to ride with Papa in the truck." Big Pedro said.
"I have the house ready. Will you need it this year?" Miss Carson looked puzzled.
"Oh, Si, Senora. Little Pedro is not so little anymore. He wanted his own camper. Here he comes now." Big Pedro looked proud of Little Pedro. Little Pedro was a grown man. He was very tall and strong. Big Pedro was glad Little Pedro still liked to work for Miss Carson.
As soon as the camper was parked, people spilled out of the door. Everyone hugged Miss Carson. It was going to be a great summer. The apple trees were blooming. The strawberries were growing. The fields were ready to plant.
Everyone was working hard. The farm was a success. Many people liked to buy their produce from Miss Carson because her organic food tasted so good. Little Pedro was extra happy when Susan came to buy fruits and vegetables. Susan was a chef at the Mexican Grill. She was a very good cook. Little Pedro thought she was pretty.
When Susan came, Little Pedro found the best asparagus, strawberries, blueberries and lettuce. Susan like Little Pedro, too. She always had time to go for a walk on the farm when she came.
One day after Susan left the farm, Little Pedro had a long talk with Big Pedro. Big Pedro smiled. He had a good secret to keep. Then Little Pedro went to talk to Susan's family. Susan and her family smiled. Susan and Little Pedro were going to get married.
Miss Carson and Young Rosa had so many things to do. Little Pedro and Susan were going to have the party in the orchard. Everyone worked hard to keep the farm going and to get ready for the wedding. It was exciting.
On the day of the wedding, Miss Carson and Chavo stayed behind to finish getting ready for the party. "I will bring Chavo to the church." Miss Carson said.
After everyone was gone, Chavo showed Miss Carson a bag of compost. They sealed it up tight. "Where should we put this, Chavo?" she asked. Chavo giggled. They put it under Little Pedro's camper. Little Pedro and Susan would have a silly surprise when they came home.
Big Pedro smiled at his son. "Chavo, what is wrong? One minute you are happy. The next you are sad. Tell me what is wrong."
"Papa, I put a bag of compost under Miss Carson's porch. I closed it up tight so it would smell. I think she will be mad at me. I think she might not hire you."
Big Pedro smiled. "I think she likes your jokes. She is your friend. You worked hard on the compost. You may make a little joke."
Chavo felt better. Miss Carson did like his jokes. She played pranks too. She had hired his family for several years. She would hire them this year.
Miss Carson was waiting in the drive. Her eyes smiled at Chavo. Chavo smiled back.
"Would you like to come and sit on the porch with me, Chavo?" she asked. Chavo and Big Pedro smiled. Miss Carson did like his joke.
"Welcome back, Pedro. It is good to see you again. Where is Young Rosa and the rest?" Miss Carson asked.
"They are riding in the camper. Only Chavo wanted to ride with Papa in the truck." Big Pedro said.
"I have the house ready. Will you need it this year?" Miss Carson looked puzzled.
"Oh, Si, Senora. Little Pedro is not so little anymore. He wanted his own camper. Here he comes now." Big Pedro looked proud of Little Pedro. Little Pedro was a grown man. He was very tall and strong. Big Pedro was glad Little Pedro still liked to work for Miss Carson.
As soon as the camper was parked, people spilled out of the door. Everyone hugged Miss Carson. It was going to be a great summer. The apple trees were blooming. The strawberries were growing. The fields were ready to plant.
Everyone was working hard. The farm was a success. Many people liked to buy their produce from Miss Carson because her organic food tasted so good. Little Pedro was extra happy when Susan came to buy fruits and vegetables. Susan was a chef at the Mexican Grill. She was a very good cook. Little Pedro thought she was pretty.
When Susan came, Little Pedro found the best asparagus, strawberries, blueberries and lettuce. Susan like Little Pedro, too. She always had time to go for a walk on the farm when she came.
One day after Susan left the farm, Little Pedro had a long talk with Big Pedro. Big Pedro smiled. He had a good secret to keep. Then Little Pedro went to talk to Susan's family. Susan and her family smiled. Susan and Little Pedro were going to get married.
Miss Carson and Young Rosa had so many things to do. Little Pedro and Susan were going to have the party in the orchard. Everyone worked hard to keep the farm going and to get ready for the wedding. It was exciting.
On the day of the wedding, Miss Carson and Chavo stayed behind to finish getting ready for the party. "I will bring Chavo to the church." Miss Carson said.
After everyone was gone, Chavo showed Miss Carson a bag of compost. They sealed it up tight. "Where should we put this, Chavo?" she asked. Chavo giggled. They put it under Little Pedro's camper. Little Pedro and Susan would have a silly surprise when they came home.
Divine Asparagus
I've been thinking food is a big part of my life that's under-represented here, so here's a recipe I threw together and that I love.
Ingredients
1 bunch Asparagus, prepped and cut into bite size pieces
3 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 large or 6 small cloves of garlic
a sprinkle of pepper flakes to taste
salt and pepper to taste
Half a lemon
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
(12 cherry tomatoes)optional
(1/2 lb fettucini)optional
Instructions
1. Blanch Asparagus pieces in boiling water for 2 minutes.
2. Heat Olive Oil in pan and add minced garlic cloves and pepper flakes.
3. Add in the blanched Asparagus. Cook until warmed and appropriately tender. (Add halved cherry tomatoes and cooked fettucine at this point if you're adding them).
4. Remove from heat. Spritz with Lemon. Sprinkle with Cheese.
5. Try not to eat it all before your guests get some. :)
Ingredients
1 bunch Asparagus, prepped and cut into bite size pieces
3 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 large or 6 small cloves of garlic
a sprinkle of pepper flakes to taste
salt and pepper to taste
Half a lemon
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
(12 cherry tomatoes)optional
(1/2 lb fettucini)optional
Instructions
1. Blanch Asparagus pieces in boiling water for 2 minutes.
2. Heat Olive Oil in pan and add minced garlic cloves and pepper flakes.
3. Add in the blanched Asparagus. Cook until warmed and appropriately tender. (Add halved cherry tomatoes and cooked fettucine at this point if you're adding them).
4. Remove from heat. Spritz with Lemon. Sprinkle with Cheese.
5. Try not to eat it all before your guests get some. :)
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
The Whole World is Ya Ya!
When I was a child I longed to be part of a secret club. I spent my childhood on the lookout for folks who knew the passwords and inventing disguises and codes for when I finally found my tribe. The trouble was everyone who seemed to know the passwords were wearing disguises and speaking in codes. What I really needed was someone who could see through disguises and read codes. What I needed was to see my true self in someone else's eyes, that was the only way I could imagine seeing myself. I thought someone else had to find me first, but I was wrong.
In order to see I had to learn how to look. I had to learn to look through my own mirror and read the backwards writing, backwards because that's the only way it makes any sense. What we all need is to learn to see through our own disguises, when you can do that you not only see yourself you see all the world around you. I'm getting better at this and what I'm seeing is a world of people who are scared shitless. Giving up your shit before you read it is a bad idea. Just ask Oprah, she did a whole show on it. A Rush to Flush can rot your whole colon out. Bonafide fact. Many people writing about clutter, purging and organizing are trying to escape their crap, but sooner or later everybody's "beday" overflows with "darknight." You can't clean yourself into somebody else and if you could you wouldn't like the result.
We are designed to shit. It's what we do, and while I'm not recommending that you trade in your mud mask for something earthier, I am suggesting what's in your pores is as important as reducing them. Learning to accept the uniqueness of your imperfections is the first step in realizing you're perfect just the way you are, and so is everybody else. Ya Ya!
In order to see I had to learn how to look. I had to learn to look through my own mirror and read the backwards writing, backwards because that's the only way it makes any sense. What we all need is to learn to see through our own disguises, when you can do that you not only see yourself you see all the world around you. I'm getting better at this and what I'm seeing is a world of people who are scared shitless. Giving up your shit before you read it is a bad idea. Just ask Oprah, she did a whole show on it. A Rush to Flush can rot your whole colon out. Bonafide fact. Many people writing about clutter, purging and organizing are trying to escape their crap, but sooner or later everybody's "beday" overflows with "darknight." You can't clean yourself into somebody else and if you could you wouldn't like the result.
We are designed to shit. It's what we do, and while I'm not recommending that you trade in your mud mask for something earthier, I am suggesting what's in your pores is as important as reducing them. Learning to accept the uniqueness of your imperfections is the first step in realizing you're perfect just the way you are, and so is everybody else. Ya Ya!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Pick and Run
In my front yard are three whiskey barrels filled with dirt and herbs. I added this feature to our yard to disguise a dead spot in the lawn, but as soon as the plan formed I could see all the joggers, walkers, bikers getting a savory whiff and I knew my barrels were meant for greater things. I am not merely covering up dead grass; I am expanding my community's culinary imagination. Right now my plants are too small, but once they are well established I'll put out a sign inviting passers-by to sniff and snip for their dinners. I see Lean Cuisines brightened with a chiffanade of basil, or fresh dill will be perking up Friday's fish. I'm hopeful the flavor of cilantro will escape the salsa bowl. I have great expectations for my little experiment in community building. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, if the imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and you'd like to flatter me you can find ideas for your own sniff and snip garden here.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
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