mulberryshoots

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" ~ Mary Oliver

Category: Life & Spirit

April 14, 2014

variations. . .

raw sweet potatoes with peeler . . .

raw sweet potatoes with peeler . . .

One of the things we most enjoy eating is Japanese sweet potatoes. Have you ever tried them? They have a thick red outer peel and a white/yellow very sweet interior. Once you taste them, it’s really hard to go back to the more commonly found yams, sweet potatoes or even garnet yams. Sometimes these Japanese sweet potatoes are found in smaller sizes, just right for a single serving at dinner. Other times, these tubers come in large sizes and seem too large to bake. All of these comments are by way of introducing the idea that tonight, I’m going to try making Japanese sweet potato FRIES!! Peel the red outer skin off; use the large Samurai carving knife to cut the peeled potatoes into slivers, dress in vegetable oil and sprinkle with Maldon salt. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and bake until crispy, golden brown.

fresh out of the oven!

fresh out of the oven!

My daughter, C., also bought some boneless, skinless chicken thighs this weekend which I will dredge in flour, dip in beaten egg and enriched panko crumbs to fry gently in a combination of vegetable oil and unsalted butter.

pan fried chicken . . .

pan fried chicken . . .

A quick swizzle of fresh cut asparagus in some butter with cracked pepper and fresh lemon juice will complete our supper for tonight. Later, we’ll finish off the key lime pie that we still have two servings of in the fridge.

It’s been a breezy Spring day today. Last night, I tried the occipital bone massage on myself (and G. did too) before I went to bed. I didn’t take ANY sleep tablets of any kind and woke up close to the time we usually do. I must be letting go of some subliminal anxiety about how my foot is doing inside the heavy cast that has been on my leg for almost three months. In anticipation of two feet being available, I ordered a pair of graceful taupe, nubuck Birkenstock sandals that have closed fronts and easy to slip on backs.

I’ve also been toying with what to do about the length of my hair; whether to trim it tight and shorter in the back, tapering longer on the sides to the front. I’ve been tempted to try cutting it myself but caught myself in time from what is clearly foolish thinking!  Anyhow, there’s still plenty of opportunity to vacillate back and forth before I can get outdoors to a hair salon next week. In the meantime, my injured foot feels better inside the cast: fewer painful episodes, more freedom of movement when wiggling my toes and moving them back and forth with the cast on.

With the Boston marathon heading our way next week, all the stories on TV about the wounded who lost limbs has reminded me of how marginally injured I have been by comparison and how fortunate I am that it wasn’t much worse. Lots of perspective gained by lessons learned all around. It’s been a quiet transition from Winter to Spring, the white snowdrops in the yard and flowering tulips in the markets a harbinger of more colorful times which are soon upon us.

DSC_0503

 

 

 

2 Comments
April 11, 2014

silver linings . . .

Loon & orchid 1Being laid up (translate immobilized) in order to allow my injured ankle to heal, the pace of our days in the past weeks has been transformed. Our priorities shifted in favor of settling into a new routine. Appreciation for each other and our lives has emerged in ways we might not have experienced so poignantly without the injury. We are thankful.

In the mornings, there are brief stints of activity that I carry out each day: cleaning off the kitchen counter of yesterday’s cooking ingredients and used dishes; wiping off the stove top and cleaning off detritus unseen before but now so newly visible at eye level from a wheelchair; straightening off the large curly maple table we use for our meals, emptying crumbs and spills from the braided hemp placemats; watering the plants, replacing spent flowers with a just-in-bloom orchid plant from those flowering in the other room.

There are moments of quiet joy, watching the morning sun move across the large kitchen/great room from the skylights illuminating the wide board pine floors. Today, I noticed those moments that probably would not have come to the fore of my consciousness without the imposed quiet of staying still:

1.  Listening to Peter Serkin’s recording of Bach Inventions Part I & II, the simplicity of these compositions more fitting (than the preludes/fuges, partitas, suites) to the reduced tempo of the day.

2.  After two fruitless tries (each day taking apart the day’s knitting) to make something that finally pleases me from leavings of Noro “Mossa” yarn, casting aside (80%) of the yarn’s over-fluffy white and purple bits, finally knitting a scarf of the most beautiful lichen, moss, gentian and twig brown colors. A glorious little (emphasize small) piece that justifies having spent the money to buy the yarn in the first place that didn’t quite measure up but has at last yielded some beautiful textures (like nuggets of gold after sieving lots of washed dirt.)knitting swatch

3. Learning that my granddaughter has been accepted to, visited and is overjoyed with her college of choice, Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Md. where she may pursue her interests in applied math, biology and all sorts of arenas such as international affairs.

4. Looking forward to my daughter, C.’s visit tomorrow. She teaches high school French and tells me she’s at the end of the quarter with grades due but will have some time to spend with us this weekend.

She’ll be doing some shopping at an organic farmstand on the way between her house and mine and arrive in time for a late lunch. I’ve been waiting for a pizza stone to arrive and if it does, I’ll make up some homemade pizza dough and we’ll try our hand at making a Margherita pizza tomorrow with San Marzano tomato sauce, cheeses and fresh basil leaves on top after it comes out of the oven.

We have also saved up so that we can watch “Frozen,” the Walt Disney animated movie together. My granddaughter, Josie, (who is four)  has taken to swaying and singing “Let It Go” on Skype this past week. I sent the Disney Golden Book versions of “Frozen” to her and I’m told she sings along while being read to and looking at the many illustrations from the movie.

5. Catching up with my daughter M. on Skype along with Josie (above) I heard about an  effort to communicate becoming a positive catalyst for change and improvement all-around in her nursing school classes. A busy Mom and student, M. somehow manages to be centered while making healthy juices from organic vegetables and fruits to take care of her own needs.

Tomorrow night, I’m planning to roast a small (under 3 lbs.) organic chicken with fresh rosemary and thyme for our dinner tomorrow night along with carrots, onion and yukon potatoes to cook alongside the bird. For dessert, we’ll have some chocolate cream pie that we devoured the last time she came out to visit G. and me.

yellow roseThis is a long list of things that gladden my heart. Plus, during my idle time last week, I won an eBay auction for a song and a wonderful loon decoy arrived yesterday. Then, G. came home last night with a single yellow rose at suppertime along with the fresh cilantro and lime I asked him to pick up to go with the Pad Thai I was making.

There are so many blessings for which I am thankful. It has been raining good fortune ever since I took that fateful fall and broke my ankle. Who would have known?

 

2 Comments
April 9, 2014

good things . . .

eggplant parmigiana ~ the best ever!

eggplant parmigiana ~ the best ever!

I’ve had a craving for tender, crisply fried eggplant recently and bought a medium sized one at the store last Friday on the way home from my hospital visit to have the sutures taken out.

The first step I took this morning was to make some enriched panko breadcrumbs: melting a dollop of unsalted butter in a skillet, pouring in a fresh packet of panko crumbs, stirring gently to distribute the butter; a couple of sprinkles of Lawry’s garlic salt from the gigantic container I bought at Sam’s Club, and dried parsley to provide some nice color. On low heat, I stirred the crumbs until they turned slightly golden and smelled fragrant from the garlic salt. Cooled and then transferred to a plastic container for future use.

panko bread crumbs toasted in butter with garlic salt and dried parsley

panko bread crumbs toasted in butter with garlic salt and dried parsley

In the afternoon, I washed and sliced up the eggplant into slightly thinner slices than usual so as to ensure tender crispiness and also to avoid having to fry thicker pieces longer and then have to drain the slices of fat. Sprinkled the raw eggplant with Maldon salt. Let sit for an hour or so on the kitchen table. Then wiped the salt and liquid clean, drying the eggplant slices. Then, the three-fold dredging steps, dipping each slice of eggplant in flour, beaten eggs, and prepared panko breadcrumbs. Oil simmered over medium-high heat in the skillet, a quick fry, turning the slices over when golden and then draining the fried slices on paper towels. I had to clean the pan halfway through to avoid burning the eggplant and started over with clean oil, not smoking. I set the slices aside to rest.

breaded eggplant slices . . .

breaded eggplant slices . . .

Then, I opened a can of San Marzano tomatoes and ran them through the Vitamix, adding some leftover diced tomatoes that were in the fridge used earlier in vegetable soup. Tasted the tomato puree for seasoning. It was simple and free of additives found in brand name sauces, just Italian tomato taste. Spread a thin layer on the bottom of an old oval copper au gratin pan. Placed eggplant in a thin layer, added scant layer of sauce, fresh mozzarella cheese and hand-grated fresh parmesan cheese.

San Marzano tomatoes. . .

San Marzano tomatoes. . .

Turned oven to 375 degrees. When almost time for supper, slid the copper pan into the oven and baked for about half an hour until golden brown on top. Made a salad of lettuce, cucumber and red onion.

While i was dredging and frying the eggplant slices, I had a fleeting thought that maybe making this dish was too much trouble. Later, however, G. and I agreed that this was probably the best eggplant parmigiana we’d ever had. I think it might have been due to a) thinner eggplant slices encased in tasty breadcrumbs; b) very little unprocessed and simple tomato sauce that did not drown the eggplant nor made it soggy;  and c) real parmesan cheese hand grated at the last minute, added to the mozzarella cheese.There was no salt at all except for what had been wiped off the raw eggplant after curing it of its innate bitterness. We’re so glad there’s enough left over for us to eat again tomorrow!

eggplant parm in the oven. . .

eggplant parm in the oven. . .

For dessert, there were still two pieces of the sour cream chocolate cake that I made the other day–half a recipe in a small square pan, frosted with ready-made chocolate icing. “Delicious!” G.’s mother commented after they finished theirs last night. His mother is ninety-five and lives across the street with G.’s brother, J.

This afternoon, G. handed me his Nikon to download photos of the cardinals who sing outside our home and flit around in the trees and bushes. We feel they are a positive sign from the universe and protect us with their colorful presence. G. maintains there are two pairs of cardinals whom he has observed squabbling with the chickadees for territory. Here are some images to enjoy!

Cardinal 2cardinal 3

Leave a comment
April 6, 2014

sunday . . .

leek and potato soup . . .

leek and potato soup . . .

It’s a calm, sunny Sunday today. No snow. No rain. The sun shines through the windows and the skylights, shimmering on the wooden floors in the kitchen and our sitting room. The sun basked, warming our backs as we sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and finishing our breakfasts.

Today is a slower cooking day: this afternoon, I’ll peel some russet potatoes, rinse a bunch of leeks carefully separating the leaves to make sure that dirt goes down the drain and not into the soup. Chop the leeks into small pieces and brown gently with a generous dollop of unsalted butter in a heavy pot; then add the cut up potatoes, stirring in some chicken stock. Simmer the whole thing with the lid on top, the fragrant soup finished off with light cream after it has been pureed in the VItamix and cooled on the kitchen counter. I’ve been looking for some vintage silverplate soup spoons with rounded bowls which we will use for the first time with tonight’s supper.

fresh out of the oven!~

fresh out of the oven!~

In the meantime, I’m mixing yeast, milk and honey with oats, flour and butter to start a loaf of oatmeal bread. I’ll time it so that the loaf will rise once, then shaped, risen again in the white stoneware loaf pan, baked to a golden hue, topped with a sprinkling of oatmeal. Resting for ten to fifteen minutes or so to slice thickly, spread with cold unsalted butter and a little honey, sliced into triangles, eaten with bowls of leek-potato soup.

I’ve been trying a different soporific (translate sleeping aid) every night and so far, the vexing pattern of tossing and turning, trying dreams and flopping my heavy cast back and forth has continued unabated. I’m hopeful to try a different regimen today/tonight that may result in more rest. Side effects of pain medication and insomnia have plagued me more than the amount of pain emanating from the ankle injury.

Noro "mossa" yarn . . .

Noro “mossa” yarn . . .

To while away the three week wait to have my cast removed, I’ve ordered some musky taupe Noro Mossa yarn with purple, green and brown colourways which should arrive this coming week. Planning to knit a simple garter stitch cardigan that will pass the time and give me a project that I can wear outside once my leg gets better and as Spring showers bring May flowers.

Leave a comment
April 4, 2014

noma . . .

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Noma, but it’s reputedly the “best restaurant in the world,” located in Copenhagen, Denmark and run by a young chef named Rene Redzepi. My daughter, M., surprised me with a gift of his latest publications by Phaidon, a journal, photos and recipe book of a year spent developing new recipes for the restaurant after being named “the best. . .” for three years running.

His initial offering, a large album book called “Noma” was already in my bookshelves, my having opted to purchase it when it first came out due to the unusual and unusually beautiful photographs of food that you could not ever fathom tasting. Even so, I find it rather inspiring to read and look at, if only because it is so independent of mind in the development of flavor and taste which is supposed to equal, food.

Maybe it’s whimsical of me to partake in the experimentation that this kind of culinary pursuit takes, but it appeals to my sense of other-li-ness that I welcome in anything that is tried and true. I mean, of course, people can go and treat themselves to a tasting menu at Daniel Boulud’s restaurants in NYC. or, for that matter, go ramen tasting at Momofuku, David Chang’s hangout that is now being challenged by other ramen spring-ups all over town.

In fact, Redzepi writes fondly about a visit by David Chang to his restaurant when Rene’s second child was born–the very same weekend–and he seems much more interested in how Chang unpacks his cooking knives than belaboring the fact that he’s become a father of two at the same time. It’s an inside look at how cooks, or at least this cook, thinks, nay, is absolutely obsessed with developing something novel and delicious.

In the Journal that Redzepi keeps, he is alarmed that the restaurant is spending more than it is bringing in. For a few months in a row, the ink runs red. Then, he begins to gather the facts that:

a.  They serve 20 dishes to each customer.

b.  Each dish has at least five ingredients–most of which require advance preparation.

c.  There are 111 purveyors from whom they buy supplies; keep track of, pay and store ingredients from.

d.  They also forage, clean and store a huge amount of ingredients.

e.  Sometimes they are surprised by their suppliers who bring in fresh snails or seafood on a Saturday that is inconvenient because it won’t hold until Monday and the menus are already set for the weekend.

f.   Besides preparing menus of 35 plus dishes for 500 customers a week; there is a staff of 70 to feed and clean up after everyday.

One late night after the flow of new ideas from the 35 cooks has gone well, Redzepi noticed a foul smell in one of the rooms downstairs. Someone has neglected to clean fish remains in one of the sinks. Another area was unscrubbed. In a good mood, he starts to clean it up by himself and then blows a fuse, calling every cook at 1:30 in the morning to gather in the kitchens, the whole crew cleaning up EVERYTHING until the place sparkles. This kind of story about how nudging a group to a higher level of teamwork can at the same time also result in backsliding for the most basic of tasks (cleaning things up after yourselves) is apocryphal and amusing.

And Rene Redzepi is only in his mid-thirties. Honestly, I can’t see myself cooking reindeer moss. Or cooking something to resemble or remind one of reindeer moss. But the very stark, austerely beautiful platings that adorn his books, and that same aura which permeates his restaurant are a treat and a treatise for one’s imagination.

So, today, after my hospital ankle appointment when the cast was taken off so that the sutures could be removed, then a new cast put on for another three weeks, I was a little more restrained than usual when we went to do the grocery shopping afterwards. I picked out a couple of endives and a radicchio to make a bitter salad with a honeycrisp apple, walnuts and golden raisins. Maybe a little sour cream and honey in the vinaigrette. Bunches of beets to roast, leeks to cook with potatoes for a creamy Sunday soup; parsnips to accompany a small boeuf bourguinon cooked in the new pot that our friend, B. gave us last week, with some tiny yukon gold potatoes, boiled, sliced in half and slowly browned with a little garlic salt and dried parsley. These ideas are in no way anywhere close to let’s say, experimenting with lamb’s brains but, c’est la vie!

What I have taken away from these armchair adventures of food developed in the cold and wintry land in Scandanavia is to concentrate on flavors, small portions, beautiful settings, eating less, eating better, having fun trying new ways with old habits that still work. All this from reading a few books! Voila!

5 Comments
April 2, 2014

comfort food . . .

wonton soupAfter a miserable day yesterday, tired out from not sleeping well for almost a week, I decided to start taking Tylenol again (just a half pill) to take the edge off of my ankle pain. G. also went out last night and rounded up some Sleepytime herbal tea which we brewed up and I drank with a spoonful of honey before going to bed. Although the night was unsettled and I had to get up a few times, there was a discernibly rounder edge to the way I felt when I woke up this morning. Translated, that means I woke up feeling more clear and a little more rested than I have for a week.

Resolved to have a better day today, I washed my hair and changed to lighter weight Spring pants and top. I sewed up the tear on the back collar of my favorite lightweight sweater and wound my freshly rinsed hair into a loose knot and put a clip to hold it off of my neck to dry.

We had some freshly ground pork in the fridge and some frozen shrimp in the freezer. I felt so much better than I had yesterday that I decided to make some of our favorite Asian comfort food for dinner: shrimp and pork wontons.

G. bought some wonton wrappers, scallions and napa cabbage at the store and we’re now good to go. Here’s the recipe if you’d like to try making them yourself:

Shrimp-Pork Wonton Soup:

1. Clean and peel 4-5 large (16-20 count) shrimp; chop into small bits

2. Mix 1 lb. fresh ground pork with minced shrimp.

3. Chop 3 green onions into small slivers, add to meat mixture;

4. Finely chop 3 leafy parts of Napa cabbage and add to meat mixture.The cabbage all but disappears in the filling but adds moisture and sweetness. Without it, the wonton filling shrinks and is less tender.

5. Season mixture with 2-3 tablespoons Ohsawa soy sauce and  1-2 tablespoons mirin.

6. Sprinkle about 2 tablespoons corn starch lightly over the mixture and work in with your hands until mixed well. The cornstarch tenderizes the filling.

Let marinated meat/cabbage/shrimp mixture sit for about an hour or two before wrapping.

7. Take a wonton wrapper and put a dab of filling in the center; wet two adjacent edges of the wrapper with cold water and fold, press the edges together of the dumpling so that you have a triangle. Take the right end of the triangle and fold it under the left, securing with a dab of water. It should look like a little bonnet. Set the folded wonton onto a plate and cover with a clean dishtowel. Fold the rest of the dumplings so that edges are sealed.

folded wontons ready to cook . . .

folded wontons ready to cook . . .

8. Bring a pot of water to a boil. When boiling, drop the wontons one at a time, stirring gently so that they don’t stick to each other. When the pot comes to a boil again, add a glass of cold tap water. Then bring to a boil once more. Add a second glass of cold tap water. When the wontons come to a boil a third time, they’re done.

9. I sometimes make a separate pot of soup consisting of chicken broth, a little water, 2 tablespoons soy; 2 tablespoons mirin. Transfer the cooked wontons into this broth, adding a little of the cooking water to enhance the soup.

Serve big bowls of the steaming hot wontons, providing chopsticks and chinese soup spoons. You can also add some baby spinach at the last minute when serving the soup.

These shrimp/pork filled wontons will make your heart sing, never mind that they’re also very tasty and easy to eat!

 

 

 

2 Comments
March 30, 2014

banana cake . . .

banana cakeWhen we can’t keep up with eating the bananas we’ve bought, they sometimes edge up on us and then I’m thinking about making a banana walnut bread or, in a recipe I found online, a “very moist” banana cake. What attracted me to this recipe were: the promise of moistness after settling the cake down in the freezer for 45 minutes straight out of the oven; the inclusion of fresh buttermilk and the idea that the cake got better as it aged in the refrigerator.

So this morning, I peeled four bananas and mashed them by hand with a fork in a bowl, adding two teaspoons of freshly squeezed lemon juice. In another bowl, I measured out three cups of flour, salt and baking soda. Finally in a large bowl, I placed a stick and a half of unsalted butter and nuked it so that it was soft but not melted. Two cups and an eighth of turbinado sugar were beaten into the butter with an old hand mixer, adding three organic fresh eggs one at a time plus two teaspoons of vanilla. Then, according to the recipe, I alternated adding the flour mixture with one and half cups of fresh buttermilk into the creamed mixture. The bananas went in at the very end. The batter looked rich and smooth. I poured it into a 9 X 13 prepared baking pan, then into a 275 degree oven for about an hour and twelve minutes. That’s when a toothpick inserted into the cake came out clean.

In the meantime, I had reconnoitered in the freezer and positioned a cookie sheet so that I could transfer the freshly baked cake right on to it and placed in the freezer for 45 minutes. I had not heard of this before but the recipe swore by this step as a way to ensure the cake would be very moist. After I took it out of the freezer, I waited about a half hour at room temperature before I mixed up a cream cheese frosting to spread on the top. Half a stick of room temperature unsalted butter with eight ounces of Philadelphia cream cheese and about a half cup of confectioners sugar mixed together with the cleaned beaters of my little mixer produced a not very sweet frosting that just covered the top of the sheet cake. Carefully topped with plastic wrap, I set the frosted cake into the fridge to await our first tasting after dinner tonight.

Honestly, the recipe took a long time to prepare. I followed it to the letter including adding fresh lemon juice to the bananas and alternating the dry and wet ingredients culminating with the bananas at the end. The frosting always turns out well–I resisted adding either lemon juice or vanilla, wanting it to be rather austere in its cream cheese-ness. I’m curious to see what kind of alchemy the freezer cooling step produced and will let you know in a little while.

Later: We cut a large piece for G. to take across the street for his 95-year old mother and brother, J. After dinner, we ate our first piece. It was very moist and had a not-sweet banana flavor. The edges of the cake were not dry nor crusty. The frosting was just right, thinly spread along the top. We’ll have it for dessert tonight also when B. joins us for a supper of shepherd’s pie, asparagus and crescent rolls.

Even Later: Just had a nice square of banana cake for dessert tonight, and the recipe was accurate: tastes even better a day later. The cake was moist, tender, flavorful. Worth the time and trouble to follow the recipe ~ a keeper!

 

 

 

2 Comments
March 28, 2014

french onion soup . . .

This morning after I got dressed, I thought I’d make some soup for lunch. Since the cupboard is rather bare, I picked up three Vidalia onions from the pantry, peeled them, sliced lengthwise and then into thin strips. Half a stick of unsalted butter went into a skillet and then the onions simmered until golden brown. I don’t know what it is but the fragrance of onions cooking on the stove makes the kitchen wake up even when it’s a couple of hours before lunch.

I transferred the golden onions into a new stainless pot with a glass lid that our family friend, B., had dropped by the other night after he heard about my mishap. The compact wheelchair I’ve been using, the two walkers and the chair that the guys have been transporting me up and down the stairs came from him years ago, lying fallow here until the accident brought them to the fore. They have been a godsend and are much appreciated.

loon and babies bpHe told us about seeing a pair of loons camping out by the local pond near one of the campuses in the town we live in. Apparently, they are not that commonly found (even though I have learned since then that they are the official bird of the state of Minnesota where my daughter M. lives.) In any case, as a thank-you, I ordered a book on Amazon.com called “Fascinating Loons” that contains a myriad of photographs and descriptions of loon-y life! Look forward to giving it to him when he comes by for supper some time soon.

So back to the soup: after browning and softening the onions, I transferred them from the skillet to the small stockpot and added two cans of beef broth, then put the soup on a low simmer. Before serving, I plan to toast up some Thomas’s English muffins, sprinkled with some grated gruyere cheese under the broiler to add on top of the soup when we sit down to eat. G. bought some steamship ham from the grocery store last night and we might have some small sandwiches to go along with the soup.

OUR soup for lunch. . .

OUR soup for lunch. . .

Everything seems to slow down when I’m slowed down so that accounts for the detailed description of the soup, its background and our plans for it. Actually, the aroma of the soup has settled our morning down to a satisfying pace. J., one of the workmen who comes a few days a week, is due late morning and will probably have some lunch with us.

This afternoon, I’m assembling the four ripe bananas from the fridge and letting them come to room temperature; then after some business that we have on the phone, will try out a banana cake recipe that promises to be very moist, kept in the fridge and graced with a cream cheese frosting. A good accompaniment to have on hand for our weekend suppers.

Postscript: here’s the recipe for this soup which is delicious when the cupboard is almost bare:

1.  Slice three Vidalia (sweet onion) onions after peeling and slicing in half lengthwise, into narrow strips.

2.  Melt 1/2 stick unsalted butter in skillet; brown the onions over medium heat until they are soft and golden, turning occasionally (half an hour.)

3.  Transfer onions into a pot and add two cans of College Inn Beef Broth (not bouillion cubes because they are too salty and sharp tasting rather than mellow and sweet.) Simmer for 45 minutes and turn heat off until ready to serve.

4.  Broil two thin halves of Thomas’s sandwich size english muffins with grated gruyere or swiss cheese under the broiler until golden brown; cut into fourths. Ladle out the hot soup and add pieces of cheesy muffins on top. Enjoy!

 

Leave a comment
March 27, 2014

preoccupations . . .

view from where I sit . . .

view from where I sit . . .

When you’re limited to how much you can move around, life changes. It’s going on five weeks now since I fell and broke my ankle. Ten days ago from actual surgery. Five days since I stopped taking painkillers that were responsible for insomnia. Still not sleeping through the night. With the inactivity, I’ve discovered that my mood is better when I take short breaks to do light housework, cooking or playing the piano. The operative word in the last sentence is “short.” Right now at 4:10 in the afternoon, there’s a peach cobbler baking in the oven; poached chicken tenders in a dashi broth, ginger root and green scallion cooling on the stove; and sticky rice starting to bubble in the rice cooker. The cooled chicken will be dipped in a light oyster sauce. Along with it, I’ll quickly saute fresh spinach with some garlic and a splash of chicken broth. Some pickled cucumbers on the side.

This morning, I started re-reading one of my favorite books that I spied in the bookcase, “Philosophy Made Simple” by Richard Hellenga. It’s a story about a man whose three daughters are grown, one of them planning to be married, a widower who looks to make a move from the Midwest to Texas to buy and run an avocado farm. That’s right. He meets up with a Russian emigre who owns an elephant named Norma Jean who makes paintings holding a brush with her trunk. He sells the paintings for a hundred dollars apiece as tourist souvenirs. It’s a great little story but I already know what happens in the end. His wife died after having an affair in Italy and returned to him afterwards. In spite of it, he looks for meaning in life by listening to tapes his wife made after she left him. This kind of plot line is why I’ve decided I can’t write a novel myself. Maybe short stories or posts on a blog are all I can handle. My imagination doesn’t spin long enough if you know what I mean.

I’m also not embarrassed to report that I’ve been watching TV crime shows such as “Bones” and “Castle” while lying on the couch most of the day with my ankle elevated “higher than my heart.” I used to brush right past those shows, thinking they were rather diluted and sappy. Well, they are sometimes sappy but surprisingly, some of the plots are engaging and there’s a lot of humor found in both casts. There also seems to be some good chemistry among the actors and what can I say, it’s not the worst thing to do while recuperating. So you see, my life and routine has scaled down quite a bit. If I were sleeping and waking up rested in the morning, I’d be a lot happier. I’ve weaned myself off of Vicodin and Tylenol, each of which contained acetaminophen which can harm your liver. Just an aspirin a day is all I’d like to take for inflammation and pain.

One idea I came up with the other day was to use some brown and dark blue Marimekko remnant material that resembles piano keys to hand sew covers for the bolster cushions I use to prop up my knees when elevating my ankle. Why stop there, I thought to myself? Two more Marimekko remnant pieces won on eBay later (loden green, brown, cranberry stripes) I’m thinking about covering the large cushions and making a dropcloth for the bamboo telephone bookcase. Maybe our home will be wall-papered in Marimekko patterns by the time I’m on my feet again!

Although there’s plenty of visual stimulation in this great room that combines our kitchen and living area, I’m hoping that the Marimekko graphics will tie things together visually. At least, it’ll give me some hand sewing to do during the weeks between casts. The sutures are to be removed a week from now and a new cast put on for an additional three weeks. By the beginning of May, I’ll have a better idea of whether/when I’ll be able to put weight on my right ankle.

Meanwhile, G. continues to carry the household load by going to the store with my annotated shopping lists, helping me up and down from room to room, washing dishes after all our meals. We’re more than grateful and happy to get through this together.

And so it goes today.

4 Comments
March 23, 2014

“riding elephants” . . .

Well, I guess Gloria Steinman is turning eighty next Tuesday. In a NYTimes article today, (where else?) she’s quoted as saying the two things she wants to do for her birthday are to “get out of Dodge. . . and to ride elephants in Botswana.” Why do people think they have to come up with outrageous wishes as they age? It’s almost as though if you don’t come up with something exotic, that you aren’t justifying your place in the constellations of people in the perceived world. And don’t get me started on so-called “bucket lists” either.

I can say definitively that I have no desire to ride an elephant, not when I turn eighty and certainly not ever. Elephants are really big and they are a long way from the ground, aren’t they? And besides, it turns out that Steinman has been having writers’ block for some time and maybe she’s looking for material to write just one more book. Why can’t she let herself just stop looking for some raison d’etre to justify her age or her profession or identity?

Did you know that she is Christian Bale’s stepmother? Yep, she married Bale’s father when he needed a green card and before he died shortly thereafter from cancer. Let’s see, what else? That Gloria Steinman is the “face” of feminism also seems a little P-R-ish to me. What is feminism these days, pray tell? On the front page of the Sunday Times today is an article about a new line of “warrior toys” for girls in the 10-12 year old range. In case you haven’t heard about it, they are bow and arrow sets in bright pink patterns that allow girls to play-act that they are Katniss Everdeen from the “Hunger Games” trilogy. After watching the first two installments last weekend when my daughters were here visiting me after my ankle surgery, I have to confess I’m a true Katniss fan. I’m not sure if it’s Katniss though, or whether it’s celebrating Jennifer Lawrence’s fierce personality and talent as she plays the character Katniss in these movies.

So, let’s step back a minute and look at how far Feminism has come since the 60’s: the love-ins and bra-burning that went on in the Kennedy years, short as they were, alas. For one thing, no matter how militant, there were no icons in the Gloria Steinman era like Katniss (aka Jennifer Lawrence.) Worlds apart and eons apart. Now, young girls are able to read the Hunger Game books (which my granddaughter, A. has read) and there’s a kind of personal freedom about being able to make choices in young females today that is palpable–a more direct way of communicating, a less passive avoidance of things that people have had trouble talking about. I wouldn’t call it a form of feminism because it feels more holistic, a part of a female’s life rather than an add-on or if-only. That doesn’t mean everyone has it. Or practices it. But it’s here and before, it was not even perceivable. That’s the way I experience it anyhow.

Back to riding elephants. If that’s what shows people that an eighty-year old can still do something, more power to her. It reminds me of when the elder George Bush would dive out of airplanes and parachute when he turned eighty, or was it seventy? In any case, I’m making the case that we don’t have to do that to show the world that we are still viable. I’m not even planning to get on a horse, for that matter. Maybe I’ll learn a difficult piece by Debussy on the piano, or read through a transcription of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons movement, “Spring” which is the favorite of my husband’s nephew who has been helping to cart me up and down the stairs when I have medical check-ups for my ankle surgery.

To each her own. Haha. Sounds funny, doesn’t it? Not to have “his” in that phrase? That’s how far we have come baby! Let’s celebrate!

Leave a comment