mulberryshoots

plastic sheeting to contain honing dust . . .

After roughing in two-thirds of the countertop yesterday, the workmen were back here at 7 a.m. this morning. I was impressed. Two of them stayed to cut the remaining piece over the dishwasher and then fit the backsplash around the perimeter of the countertop.They mentioned it’s only the second octagonal countertop among thousands that they’ve done (most kitchens having square angles) and that it made the angle cuts for the back splash more challenging. It took them all afternoon to cut, install and hone the angled backsplash.

The grain on the third piece fit in well with the other two. G., meanwhile, secured the dishwasher so that there was enough space to open the drawer and cabinet door next to it on the left hand side. We have our fingers crossed that the dishwasher, now anchored in place until there’s no tomorrow, will function properly once the water is hooked up again and it goes through its wash cycle.

Our plumber will come tomorrow night to hook up the new faucet with the insinkerator and to move whatever pipes need to be repositioned given the new location of the faucet. After my physical therapy session this morning, I went to the grocery store and brought back salad and some roast turkey slices for the workers’ lunch. One of them declared that the salad dressing I made was “one of the ten best I’ve ever had!” and asked me for the recipe. I thought I’d include it in this post too.

K’s Classic Vinaigrette Recipe:

Champagne Vinegar and Light Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Depending upon the quantity you’re making, use a ratio of 1:2 for the vinegar to olive oil.Then, add:

Crushed clove of garlic—or a light sprinkle of Lawry’s garlic salt

A dollop or two of Poupon country mustard (depending on the quantity you’re making)

A squeeze of FRESH lemon juice—this brightens up and makes the dressing smell wonderful

A dollop or two (or more) of honey—to taste, we like it slightly sweet and sour. You’ll know how much by tasting it after whisking the mixture with a fork. Sprinkle a little cracked pepper if desired.

The guys seemed refreshed after they finished their lunch. I was surprised they were so health-conscious, eating an apple in the morning and drinking water the whole time. I left some more fruit and bottles of water outside on the front stoop to tide them over during the afternoon.

Last night in artificial light, the raw, untreated stone looked more green than blue-grey. Once the plumbing is completed tomorrow night, we’ll use a special dry wax to cure and condition the surface of the stone on Friday. I’m remembering that pot of delicate, pale pink chrysanthemums I saw the other morning at Home Depot too. It will look gorgeous on the new countertop, won’t it?

Here are a few photos of the raw soapstone countertop, completed but unwaxed. Photos of the finished countertop will be posted soon.

Salut!

left side raw countertop. . .

center raw countertop . . .

right raw countertop . . .

I was musing today about the last two posts on this blog: the one from all-American Dale Carnegie who succeeded at convincing people that the way to be popular and to be successful was to be genuinely interested in other people and not promote yourself in a vacuum.

The post I uploaded last night was the unhappy tale of a woman whose life was dedicated to writing poetry, novels and other books. Her struggle to achieve what she wanted was wracked by her unwillingness to consider that her talent was minor (needing more work and discipline.) All her life, she chased potential lovers, infatuated with more than one person at a time, wearing out her friends and lovers alike, dying in her eighties unsatisfied.

Then today, as I enjoyed an iced green tea latte looking through magazines at Barnes & Noble, I leafed through Shambhala Sun and Tricycle, Buddhist periodicals which both featured articles about anger on the front cover. Inside were glossy pictures of articles about how to deal with anger and how to “escape the prison of your own self-image” (don’t have one!) I brought both of them home and have been reading a few articles slowly because you can’t read that stuff quickly and expect to process it, at least I can’t.

What struck me was how these Buddhist articles contained a completely different way to think about life than what we are used to (as described above.) Many of my shelves are filled with books about Zen and Taoism written  or translated by Alan Watts, D.T. Suzuki, Stephen Mitchell and John Tarrant. There are also numerous volumes of ancient Chinese poetry written by Taoist monks translated by Bill Porter whose pen name is Red Pine.

Even so, I haven’t yet absorbed or understood enough from those writings to feel that I’m living the way I’d like to under Zen or Taoism. I’m too Western or not Eastern enough. Or perhaps it’s because I am so deeply inculcated with Western materialism and its easy values. After all, it’s fun to buy things for my granddaughter for her dorm room when she starts college at Johns Hopkins University in a week or so.

Well, I think I’ve got it. I can give up a self-image that requires me to keep striving: to do something or be something that I still haven’t achieved. I can give up anger and being annoyed about a myriad of things that won’t change. I can stop jousting with my ego and be frustrated about how it spills over to other relationships in my life. I don’t have to keep collecting things or searching for something elusive that I thought I always wanted.

Sound good?

I’ll let you know how it goes. My father was a research scientist with a strong personality. In the last years of his life, he took up translating the Tao te Ching himself, eschewing translations by Westerners whom he thought were incapable (because they were not Chinese) of understanding the language of ancient Chinese texts.

He taught himself ancient calligraphy, producing scrolls that my brother had professionally mounted when he was living in Shanghai on business. My Dad also tried to meditate, sitting at zazen and holding sessions with a handful of volunteers on a weeknight at a local church which offered a free space to meet. I give him credit for trying to live his own spiritual approach to Buddhism or Zen before he died. It kept him engaged and challenged, exploring the ways of the Sage or maybe even learn how to become more like one.

Sounds like a good idea to me too.

a pottery plaque with my father’s calligraphy . . .

Do you know anyone who always has to have the last word? Who doesn’t, right? It could be a friend, a sibling or a parent, to start with our innermost circles. I have one in particular who never fails to make sure that I know she’s done everything I ever thought of doing. And on top of that, is planning to do things I would never think of doing. For a long time, I was baffled by this pattern because our lives have been and are so different from each other. Plus, we’ve not really been close either. So, why the competition?

Synonyms for competition are “rivalry” or “contest.” There’s sibling rivalry but that’s usually for favoritism from a parent or parents. And if the parents were clear about whom they favored and have passed away, who cares anymore? As far as a contest goes, there’s no prize for the winner and no judges either. Makes the whole aspect of competition seem trite and fruitless doesn’t it? Be that as it may, it is vexing when one of these messages floats in through the transom and is not only annoying but stirs up competition in yourself as a result!

I guess the best thing to do about it is to ignore it rather than try to understand it. In other words, it’s all about THEM, and not really about YOU, AND not even about THEM AND YOU. Would that I could be so cerebral and intelligent about it! What it makes me want to do after gnashing my teeth, is to forswear communicating with this person ever again. I think I’ve tried that at least twenty times too.

So, how about competing back?  That puts us on a road to infamy for sure. Or turning the other cheek? Been there, done that. Rationalize it somehow as a sign of THEIR insecurity? You think?!? There’s no good way to deal with this kind of power slice-and-dice, it seems to me. Maybe writing a post about the futility of it all might help. At least I hope so.

Let me know if it’s ever happened to you!

Yesterday, I met my daughter, C. for lunch at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants in Framingham. It’s a “mom and pop” restaurant: she runs the service side and he does the cooking. Both their children have worked in the restaurant since the son was in high school. We’ve been going there since he started college and then finished graduate school. Everything is home-cooked in the back kitchen. There used to be an item on the menu called “meat pie” that never had any meat in it. Instead, it had light flaky layers of pastry with a unami tasting center of finely chopped onions sprinkled with sesame seeds. We asked the son about it and were told it was taken off the menu because it took too long to make and people would finish their meals before it was baked, then reject the order and wouldn’t pay for it. Too bad because it was our favorite dim sum item on the menu.

Another of our favored dishes was a buddha’s delight kind of dish made with silk squash, tree fungus, tofu skin and fresh bamboo shoots. But yesterday, one of the big pieces of fresh bamboo shoots tasted slightly sour to me. I set it down on the edge of my plate and decided not to complain about it. I felt sad for a moment that there were so few diners eating in the restaurant and that the cook seemed to have stretched out the use-by freshness of their ingredients.

Later, G. and I went to a neighborhood Chinese restaurant for a quick supper of soup and crispy noodles with fresh vegetables. As soon as we entered the restaurant, I noticed something was different. The tables were bare wood with paper place mats and pink cloth napkins folded into empty water glasses. Usually, there was also a pink tablecloth covering the wooden top as well. I noticed a car with a linen delivery logo on it parked outside. Maybe they had a late arrival of the tablecloths. Or maybe they decided to do away with them to save money. Suddenly, I felt the twinge of sadness I had had during lunch reoccur here in this restaurant without tablecloths.

These eating establishments have both been around a long time. I haven’t been to either one in months as we don’t go out to eat often, much less twice in one day. It felt like the economy has taken its toll on these family-owned restaurants. People are still courteous and glad to see us. They put on a positive countenance. At the same time, there is a quietude in their manner as well. Times are harder than some of us think. Two meals today have convinced me that quality has taken a backseat while trying to cut corners here and there. I wish them well. But I’m not hopeful that things will get much better over time. And that would be a misfortune for us all.

white wisteria and pale pink clematis growing on the rose arbor

At the same time that I’ve been thinking about “happiness,” I’ve also been reflecting on attitude and what goes into what makes up our attitude towards the day in front of us.

Most of the time, I’ve been optimistic and upbeat about problem-solving. And believe me, there’s been lots of adversity in both my personal and professional lives. I tend to be pretty direct which sometimes gets me in trouble with people. I’m sometimes so clueless that I don’t even notice this until after I’ve said something that might have come out the wrong way.

You know what they say about a glass being half empty and a glass half full, don’t you? That there are only two kinds of people in the world: those who feel shortchanged and dissatisfied no matter what their lives are like; and those, who see the world as benefiting them, no matter what hardships and shortfalls they still face. What accounts for that, do you think? There are lots of rich people who aren’t happy and lots of poor who are. It’s sometimes seems as though how you look at things and what perspective you gain from them is the only reality that we actually have.

Since I’ve been injured, I’ve had some stunning insights about how almost nothing matters except family and showing love to each other. This is where I’ve said that it’s a waste of energy to sweat the small stuff, and almost everything is “small stuff.” Then, after other setbacks and injuries in our household the last couple of months, I’ve noticed that the pendulum has slowly swung back the other way: and that some days it feels like we are irritated and overwhelmed by “small stuff.” And that small stuff somehow becomes really important again.

You know what? It’s not worth it. I think that depression has something to do with feeling worse. One of the things that bothers me is thinking about age. Which in reality is really dumb because there’s absolutely nothing you can do about your age. I met someone last week who is a dozen years younger than I am but her attitude towards her life is full of fear and anger about how to manage when she’s older. It was so depressing.

‘new dawn’ rose arbor . . .

On most days, I’m the one who is making sure that things look up: that there’s freshly sliced ham and cheese in the fridge for sandwiches for lunch to feed the hungry guys who help G. move pianos (as they are doing right now.) Yesterday, I drove to a nursery in the next town to pick up two flats of heavenly blue morning glories to plant along the barn. Their brilliant blooms on foggy mornings in October and November lift our spirits every year. They’ll have to turn on the water and bring up the hoses so we can water the seedlings when they’re planted.

morning glories blooming in late Fall from our kitchen window. . .

I also picked up kitchen herb plants to set up outside the back door on our third floor deck: flat-leaved parsley, chives, thyme, rosemary and a large basil plant. We’ll clear out the iron hibachi grill we have out there and this weekend, maybe we’ll grill some marinated baby back ribs for supper.

Up here, I filled two containers of water to tend the orchids on the shelf in the plant/bird room. It was easier to carry them in my lap using the wheelchair than trying to carry them using a crutch. There are about six flowering orchid plants right now, some needed propping up on stakes and I rearranged them so that there was more space for them to breathe.

Tonight, we’re having chicken wings, marinated in some teriyaki sauce that I’ll add some fresh garlic and sliced green onions to and broil them to golden crispy goodness. In the NYTimes food page last week, I read about a garlic crusher that allows you to push down on cloves of garlic that instantly crush them but hold them together so that you can scoop them out wherever you need them–in a pan or marinade. Some yellow squash and onions sauteed together will accompany the barbecue chicken wings. Yum!

So, in writing this post, I’ve circled around the idea of attitude, what affects it and mostly noticing that it can change often, even within a day’s time. What strikes me is that maintaining an upbeat attitude takes thought and intention. If you’re not paying attention, your attitude can dribble away and descend into nit-picking irritation. Since we’re all different, and we’re all human, I guess it’s up to us individually just what kind of attitude we want to have, think about how to hold it and maintain one’s equanimity when things get tough again.

I can tell you one thing: it’s a lot more fun to have a positive outlook than a negative one. Believe me, I’ve been there recently and I’m climbing out of the rut I’ve been in lately. Hope everyone around me also understands.

Ever since I had a bad fall and broke my ankle in February, life changed quickly. For a few halcyon weeks, almost nothing mattered but being helped through surgery and recovery concerns.

Being transported up and down three flights of stairs required a band of brothers to help carry me in a chair like a palanquin, moving down one stair at a time. A heavy cast remained on my leg for weeks on end that made it hard to get a good night’s sleep.

Lying on the couch so that I could elevate my swollen foot higher than my heart was key to keeping edema from getting in the way of natural healing. Last Friday, I was told by my orthopedic surgeon that I could now put 100% of my weight on the injured foot–upped from 25% for the past four weeks. And instead of the heavily padded removeable boot, a slender tie-up splint was wrapped around my foot.

Honestly, I can’t get used to it. I’ve been favoring the injured leg for so long, being so cautious getting in and out of the shower, sitting while washing my hair and finally learning how to maneuver on crutches up and down the stairs instead of being carried to go out to the car to go on appointments or on occasion to go to the grocery store.

Now, there is a “new” normal to getting to really normal. I think it’s mostly psychological in that there seems to be a need for more confidence to enter my head before I go around walking on the favored foot without the benefit of my wheelchair, crutches and walker. You’d be surprised how much I’ve enjoyed wheeling around our place in situ. Now, I’m almost able to skip the crutches (sort of like skipping learning how to crawl for babies) and find my way around with little more than holding on to a walker or backs of chairs in the kitchen.

Today, my granddaughter, A. is coming for lunch! I am surprising her with homemade cinnamon rolls when she arrives, because they are her favorite and she hasn’t been able to be here on Christmas Day–which is when we usually eat them while opening presents. We will also be visiting my local jeweler who has put together a special gift for her graduation, scheduled for ten days from now. We are thrilled that she’ll be a freshman at Johns Hopkins University this Fall.

How times change.

And how a “new normal” can now include things that we never thought of before. I was thinking that we can also decide to exclude old bad habits and “have to’s” from entering a “new normal.”

Hey, maybe there’s no “normal” to worry about at all, come to think of it!