December | 2011 | mulberryshoots

starting anew. . .

Baby Josie and me, this week!

Here it is almost new year’s eve and the beginning of a new year, along with many of us thinking about how we want our lives to be different with this turning page of the calendar.

Some things will remain the same: problems that crop up unexpectedly; relationships that are not what they seemed or that have run their course; perhaps some health issues that we didn’t know about or have ignored. Some things will be different, I suppose. On my list are these thoughts:

a. to be honest and straightforward (even more than I have been up to now) so that each day is clean and cleaned up as I go along. This has usually gotten me into trouble most of my life because I was unable or unwilling to “play the game,” and to say or do what I knew others might expect.

Thankfully, I’m not working in corporate America anymore. which means that I don’t have to dread spending my working days with people whom I didn’t trust very much, and whose agendas usually did me no good. But now, I don’t have to watch every word or how to phrase things in order just to get the work done. So, I’m grateful for this phase in my life.

b. to love and respect others without taking on their burdens. This one is a tough one because as a helicopter Mom, I have spent a majority of my life worrying about things that I couldn’t do anything about–just watching my daughters find their way in life. Now that they have reached a place where they are living their own paths, my work is done–except to feed them occasionally with good food, or to send an occasional check. This is also true for others whom I love and support. Judging not today or any day, but also, being here for them. Wholly and thoughtfully.

c. to continue to simplify my life and to curtail that which complicates it.

d. to simplify our lifestyle: to distill it down to its true essentials. And not anything more. That feels really good to me after the huge largesse of Christmas joy, holiday giving and wonderful things. Which I love doing and am probably the biggest mama of them all to give away what will be used and loved more than it would be in my possession. I love doing that–finding a better use for something that I might not use so much to justify keeping it.

me with a "mrs. santa" chocolate from my stocking. . .

e. to read a lot. really read. not to learn how to write by it. but to read for its own sake. I can’t WAIT to do that and have been wanting to read for pleasure as a way to live for a long time, not just catching bits of it along the way.

f. take care of my canaries and plants. Self-explanatory.

g. to rejoice in my luck and good fortune to be married to the love of my life.

George, tending a piano

h. to be surrounded by loving and delightful children. To be accompanied by charming and delightful granddaughters, fifteen years apart–one (Anna) almost ready to go to Paris with my daughter, Caitlin, this coming summer.

Caitlin, French teacher and la photographe extraordinaire

granddaughter, Anna, who is almost sixteen!

And the other little one (Josie) who just left–to be as charmingly engaged in life with each and every breath.

josie and megan

We are so lucky. And we’re lucky to know it and to be grateful.

Happy new year, everyone. No matter how bad the world appears on TV and in the news, we are lucky to be where we are. And at least for us, I’m grateful for it all and give thanks.

Many thanks!

meg, josie and jen!

31 Comments

December 26, 2011

present. . .

So on the day after Christmas and celebration of Hanukkah, what seems most important to me in hindsight is being present. Not presents, although they are wonderfully thoughtful, fun and touching. But being together. In the moment. Sharing our company. Watching a 15-month year old baby understand what is going on around her. And enjoying every moment of her reactions to bubbles being blown or a small quilt being unwrapped. Beside me on the couch, our other granddaughter, who will be sixteen next month put on her new pearl earrings. . . now that she has just had her ears pierced, we are all delighted with a new category in which we can find little treasures. Tonight, the little one offered a plastic block in trade for the older one’s I-Phone. . . and then didn’t want to give it back!

Josie trading a plastic block with Anna for her I-Phone!

Being present everyday is what I think we eventually learn to do, especially when our children are not that anymore, but who are living their own adult lives with all the ups and downs that life entails. Choosing to be with people that you love means everything. Because our presence is what we have to give of ourselves in the end.

Being there. Being here. Being with each other. Especially right now.

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December 22, 2011

oeufs en gelee. . .

Well, if you read about my Christmas meltdown earlier, here is a follow-up report on making oeufs en gelee. An etsy potter from Australia wrote to me at the time that she was interested enough to “google” it to see what this dish was all about.

Apparently, it’s a traditional first course dish served in France and England from what little is available online. A photograph of a big glass bowl filled with jellied consomme with eggs suspended in it, a pile of toast and butter beside it stayed in my memory from Roald and Liccy Dahl’s book called, “Memories of Food at Gipsy House.” I think it was Roald’s own words that imprinted it into my mind:

“R.D. To me this is the most beautiful and delicious dish, but it is difficult to make well. If you can succeed in having the eggs not only soft-boiled inside but also separately suspended in the jelly, and yet not having the jelly too firm, then you have achieved the miracle.”

Okay: achieving miracles. It sure didn’t feel like that when I attempted to peel eight small eggs after having boiled them the allotted time. The shells kept sticking even though I had plunged them into cold water after removing them from the boiling water. The insides were also too runny. So, there went the first batch of eggs! I had also taken out my old beat-up copy of Julia Child‘s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” volume one in which she very helpfully described on page 113 some aspects of the “mystery” that goes into making the consomme turn out just right: you have to chill and test small batches of your consomme cum gelatin mix to see if it jells up properly–not rubbery and not too soft. My little test plate wasn’t jelling as fast as I wanted it to. Meanwhile, the phone rang and a voice asked me where was I for a chiropractor adjustment?–which had somehow slipped my mind while peeling the first batch of eggs.

So, I layered the broth into a Tupperware jello mold (see photo above) and put it in the fridge while I boiled up a second batch of eggs, leaving them to boil for a minute longer this time, plunging them into cold water afterwards. Then we ate supper: carryout Chinese. Afterwards, I peeled the eggs carefully and they seemed okay this time. I dried them off and slipped them into the mold, and then put fresh springs of tarragon around them. Added more consomme mixture that had chilled in an ice filled pie pan and then put it back in the fridge. An hour later after the third batch of consomme had jelled (this time firmer than the rest for some reason), I broke it up and spooned it onto the remaining room left in the mold, hoping that this jelly on the bottom would hold the thing together. Put the lid on firmly and set it in the fridge.

It looks like this mysterious, luminous pale brown concoction with eggs suspended, tarragon leaves barely visible.

At this point, I’m just glad that oeufs en gelee are now in the fridge and ready to bring up to serve as a first course with toast, butter, a little fresh ham and cornichons. I’m not so naive as to think that it will actually taste that great–although I am still hopeful.

I think the important thing for me was doing it because I was enraptured by Roald Dahl‘s experience and description of this dish. And besides, who wouldn’t want to make a try at performing miracles during this time of year?

Here’s an update: a photo of a serving of oeufs en gelee on Christmas Day!

111 Comments

December 15, 2011

moving (more) lightly. . .

I’ve been shopping for groceries and wrapping presents this week because family will be visiting from out of town next week. As I surveyed the bags of groceries in the front entryway and the wrapped gifts upstairs, I thought to myself about all the stuff we lug around with us during the holidays. Plus the cartons of kitchen things waiting to be brought up to the cottage to feed everybody, including Josie, the baby and guest of honor.

So, I started taking things out that I thought I might need, because nobody but me cares about which dishes or glasses we use. Really, they don’t. And the fewer there are to wash up, the better, don’t you think? I had also discarded the boxes things came in and wrapped soft things, rolled up with those nice printed tissue papers in red and green. At the craft shop today, looking for yarn needles because my solitary one keeps disappearing just when I’m finishing things up, I saw they had a special on four spools of moss green and burgundy ribbon for a dollar. They will dress up the small cream/red poinsettias and chocolate covered cookies meant for families here along with cards containing good cheer.

A friend wrote to me yesterday that two people close to her have died. We are both around the ages of those who passed, older than one, in fact, and it reminded me of how tender an age some of us have reached. Along with that, my back is feeling a little stiff after moving some heavy things last weekend. It’s still okay, but I am reminded that it’s probably a good idea to slow down a bit, and to lighten the load–both physically with things around me and especially mentally with all the excitement of preparing for Christmas and visits with family.

So, I think I reached the apogee of preparing for Christmas in the last couple of days. And it feels good to slide back a little, and to recalibrate myself to move more lightly, the rest of the way.

And, how are you doing?

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December 7, 2011

“treasury lists” . . .

The world is teeming with artists and crafts persons who are expressing themselves and producing wonderful things, selling their wares themselves. For awhile, I have been meeting knitters, quilters and potters on Etsy, a website devoted to crafts available from their source. It has even, on occasion, been possible to have a collaboration with quilters and knitters to have things made, customized for fabric, yarn and color, for example.

Countries range from far and wide: Norway, Turkey, Israel, England and Australia to name a few. And there are also many regions in the good old U.S. of A. It is an astonishing gallery and marketplace for infinite (it seems) possibilities and inventiveness expressed with humor and amazing materials.

Because I want to support them in their endeavors–and the prices are almost always modest compared to the amount of labor and time it’s taken to make their scarves, quilts and bowls, I’d rather buy their wares than just about anywhere else for things that are mass-produced and the proceeds devoured by big corporations.

So, if you’re interested, here’s a link to my “treasury lists”–a very creative device that Etsy has introduced, whereby one makes up a gallery of sixteen windows that is then shared with those you are “friends” with or are linked to some of your “favorites.”

In any case, here they are: click “katherine’s treasury lists” on the Blogroll feature on the right hand column of my blog, then click on the title of each treasury list.

Or, you can paste this link into your browser.
http://www.etsy.com/people/mulberryshoots/treasury?ref=pr_treasury_more

It is like entering a world we experienced in the movie, the “Wizard of Oz” where black-and-white shopping turns to color! I hope you have as much fun with it and find wonderful things as much as I have!

Some of my Etsy friends have also subscribed to my blog! Thanks all!

P.S. Adding links to my blogspot for etsy sisters, mudheart pottery, elizabeth cadd and drusilla pettibone

9 Comments

December 6, 2011

back to basics. . .

It’s amazing how having a meltdown this early in December clears away stuff. For example, all of the “have-tos” that I drag around with me for the holidays: the magical, quintessentially decorated Christmas tree that has to be a balsam and freshly cut so that it fills the room with its fragrance. This is no mean feat because trees are cut and shipped down here from Canada weeks before Thanksgiving even–and finding a balsam tree that is still alive enough to grace us with its fragrance is not an easy thing.

Then, there is the multitude of ornaments that I have collected and culled after forty-some years of Christmas tree-decorating. Antique mercury and glass ornaments, tissue paper animals, birds cut out of paper, bead garlands, glistening snowflakes from Germany when I travelled there on business years ago. A choice of different angels for the top. Or a felted red cardinal. Maybe these can be reduced to a half or a quarter.

Then, there’s the present-giving. I have been criticized for years by one person for giving too much at Christmas: “Just sit back and let her do it,” was the admonition, if memory serves me. As though receiving things that I have gathered is a burden for people. So, that’s something to reconsider, don’t you think?

Then, there’s the food. It turns out that I have not really bought into the idea that everyone should have a say-so in what the menu is going to be over the holidays. To me, it’s not a “team decision,” since it’s not really a “team effort,” is it to shop for it, prepare it and serve it? This yearning to create a true Christmas meal has been further enhanced by my correspondence with an old friend who lives in London. She has ordered two pheasants for their Christmas dinner. And I have been sending her recipes from Roald Dahl’s wonderful book, “Memories from Gipsy House,” like “Oeufs en gelee” and reading recipes for partridges stuffed with juniper, herbs and fresh bread. It’s a sharp contrast to the current ethos of “just making something quick and simple,” isn’t it? I’m a pretty good cook and part of the fun of Christmas is making really wonderful food for our meals.

Nor, for that matter, have I ever bought into the concept of exchanging “lists” of things that people want. If someone wants something on their list, then why don’t they just buy it for themselves anyway? What is Christmas anyhow, if you just order something at LL Bean or Amazon.com that somebody else wanted but didn’t want to spend the money? Then you wrap up the gift that somebody already asked for and they open it on Christmas day? Yippee? What happened to the days of Guy de Maupassant and the thoughtfulness that’s described in his short story, “The Gift”? although you wouldn’t want to be ships passing in the night either about gift-giving.

So that’s about it:
a real tree
real presents
real food

Oh, and being present. That’s a big one. Not wandering off willy nilly. Really helping out to clean things up and to wash the dishes rather than making a stab at it and letting others do all the tidying up. Not just going through the motions. Being joyful and thankful together.

Being present. That’s better than giving or receiving presents, don’t you think?

Well, thanks for listening to me today.

I’ll figure it out. Because I always do.

2 Comments

December 5, 2011

how the cookie crumbles . . .

You know what they say, the only constant in life is change? Sometimes, I feel that change is long overdue, don’t you?

I find myself holding onto traditions when others take them for granted or it isn’t as meaningful for them as for me. Take being together on Christmas Day, for instance. Or the choice of food. Don’t get me going on that. People nowadays are so fussy about what they will eat or won’t eat. It’s not like hostessing a meal anymore. The pendulum has swung so far that there now seems to be endless discussion on what to cook and what to eat. When I’m the one who will do the heavy lifting to satisfy everyone’s whims and wants: doing the shopping, paying for the food, cooking and serving it, and what happens–people pick and choose what they want to eat and, whether to be late or to leave early. There is a new entitlement these days about being a guest. No longer is it the case that you invite people and present a shimmering Christmas tree and a groaning board of delectable food.

I don’t even mind that picky part about the entertaining when one is hosting the venue, setting the stage with holiday decorations, spending weeks setting it up and then having people come and adjust things just so after you have spent so much time already on making things just so.

What I do mind, after setting the stage, financing, shopping for and providing for the food, drink and all the largess (dollars and presents galore) is when I am treated like the backdrop. When people make decisions about when they’re going to be here or not. When choices are made in tandem with people who have treated me so badly in the past. And nobody gets that or even notices. So, with that, the whole thing turns to dust.

But wait, it’s not so bad when I have had time to process it all. To think to myself how weary I have been feeling even thinking about putting the whole show on the road (literally!) again. It’s time to let it go. The show doesn’t have to go on anymore. Because my integrity is more important than even Christmas, believe it or not.

That’s how the cookie crumbles. And. . . happiness is a choice, right?