A delicious dinner

Last week I made myself a delicious dinner. Roasted eggplant, baked salmon and a huge side salad. It was absolutely wonderful and precisely what I needed to have.

I cut an eggplant in half and rubbed it with olive oil; a dash of salt and pepper and I roasted it for 40 minutes in the bottom of the NuWave oven. About 25 minutes in I used the four inch rack, lined with foil for the salmon. I sliced some onion, red pepper and lemon, tossed in a little oil and salt. The veggies got piled on top of a frozen salmon filet and roasted.

I flipped the filet halfway through it's cooking time to make sure it cooked thoroughly. When it was all done, I plated it up beside a humongous salad. Not in the picture are a pair of Kings Hawaiian rolls.

I absolutely enjoyed my dinner that night, and definitely plan to do it all again!

Lotus; wash over line.

I want to talk about art and about being who you are and about bullies. Honest, they really do all intersect.

When I was little, I drew pictures. And people ooh'd and aah'd and told me they were good, but I saw all the flaws in them, the places they just weren't quite right. So I practiced and I worked at it and I continued to see the flaws and messed up bits. I saw how the circle wasn't really round and how that didn't really look like that and how utterly horribly rotten I really was at art.

I looked at Degas and at Leonardo, at Rembrandt and Picasso, and I knew, just knew I'd never be that good. 

I took a two day oil painting seminar in high school. They said I was really good. I painted a few pictures, and again, I saw the flaws. 

In high school, I didn't take art classes, because I wasn't good enough for that. I didn't show anyone my pictures or tell anyone I could draw because it wasn't enough, it wasn't good enough, I wasn't big enough or shiny enough or cool enough to be an artist. Artists are people who wear cool clothes they drew on and they smoke cigarettes and carry pencils and sketch pads everywhere and they don't care what everyone around them thinks.

I cared. Oh, I cared. I cared that they called me Caspar because I was pale. I cared that they told me I stank, and that I was ugly; when they said I couldn't I believed them, and when they told me I should die I tried.

My mom told me I laughed too loud; my aunt told me to question everything because it was important to make up my own mind about things. I became uncertain. I knew the words the kids used about me were wrong, but what if they had a grain of truth in them? I had to question both the rightness and the wrongness of what they said about me.

I saw the flaws in myself, pointed out by my "peers." I wanted to be quirky and cool, suave and sexy and awesome, but I could see the places where I wasn't quite round enough, or sleek enough, the places where the lacquer had worn through and the spots where the underpainting was the wrong tone.

I didn't even consider a University with a fine arts program. Hard science all the way.

Every time I moved, my art supplies came with me, in boxes labeled 'crafts.' When I told people I could draw, it was in a downplayed, simplified version of 'drawing.' I can make circles and three dimensional boxes. 

In my heart of hearts, I was an artist. I painted the world in new ways, showing people what is really there, and opened up eyes and minds and hearts to emotional experiences... I captured the world and made it mine through paper and pigment; I created things that were brand new, never-before-seen marvels of the imagination. 

And I hid it all away, because it was too flawed. 

Each time I told someone what I did, who I was, it hurt more. More and more to not say 'Artist.' 'Creator of beauty.' 'Person who tames the world and shows it to you, new.' Part of me screamed through the rest of me to make art again. 

I'd do it, for a while, until life got in the way (that's what I told myself.) I'd do it until I was overwhelmed by the flaws in myself and had to put it away again. 

Now, I changed my life to have more room for art. This thing that has been at the center of my soul for as long as I can remember must be at the center of my life, too. Flawed, broken, not as good as Degas or Michaelangelo and wonderful. 

I am an artist. I see the world and interpret it through pigment, paper, wire, glue and clay; I present it to you, my audience. This art is me, do you see it? React to this thing that I made so I know that I exist. Show me the impact I have had so that I may know I live. 

Art is life, I am art. I show it to you as I show you my own beating heart. See its flaws? Do you love them, too? The places where I can see that this time I made it better than the last, and the places I have still to work on... aren't they lovely? 

I no longer define myself in the negative. "I'm not Christian, not straight, not monogamous, not normal, not boring, not not not not..." No. I am an artist. I am queer. I am Zen. I am ART. 

Tho I will still question, quest after greater skill and technique, I will no longer listen to the voices from my youth, the ugly evil ones that tell me lies about myself. I know who I am now and the words of others cannot change that.

I am an artist. I will make the world and show it to you; I will look at the world you have made. As you see me, I see you. We exist, together. Let's make art and prove it.

Tibetan Sugar Skull Mask

One of the things this move was supposed to provide me with was the time and space in which to make more art. It's taken me some settling in, but this past Sunday, I finally made use of my art setup.

I made this --->

It's a skull mask inspired by Mexican Dia de los Muertos sugar skulls with a Tibetan Buddhist twist.

I picked up the skull blank a few weeks ago at Michaels' Crafts. It was plain brown, paper mache, in with a huge stack of others just like it.

On Sunday, I gesso'd it on the outside surface with two coats, and let it dry a few hours. Luckily, acrylic gesso dries really quickly. I used Liquitex Acrylic Gesso in plain white. After it had dried fully I sketched the design I wanted onto it.

Just like the traditional Mexican sugar skulls, I picked individual designs for each of the teeth. I've got hearts, music notes, a tree, lots of different flowers, a paint brush, cup of coffee, peace sign and even a lesbian symbol! Mine deviates from the traditional Mexican version however. The dome of the skull has a lotus with Sanskrit symbols for each of the chakras and scrollwork around the central figure.

The jaw bone is decorated with hearts and vines, and the cheeks feature more Sanskrit symbols. In this version, the symbols are an Om and the symbol for Anahata, the heart chakra.

The first thing I did when adding color was to paint the lotus. I know, usually in paintings you do the background first, then add details... and for most of the skull that's exactly what I did. But I started with the lotus. I wanted it in shades of blue, with light and shadow. The lotus is the most realistic part of the skull with, honestly, the most detail in it. I also used Resin Sand to create texture in the skull; dots over the eyebrows and detail on the scrollwork got raised and textured with the sand, as well as the large heart on the chin.

I knew that I wanted my skull to be colorful, with lovely jewel-like tones, muted into their pastel counterparts. I wanted it to look rich and sumptuous, not too dark or scary; it also had to blend smoothly from color to color while maintaining each 'zone' of the skull separate. The dome of the skull is a lovely mintish green created by mixing Hooker's Green Hue and Titanium White in Liquitex Acrylic Medium Gloss. The back and sides of the skull are in blue tones, created using the same paints for the lotus (Cobalt Blue Hue, Ultramarine Blue and Cerulean Blue Hue.)

The jaw is yellow, created by combining Naples Yellow, Cadmium Yellow Light and Titanium White. The central face is the most heavily blended, ranging from orange-pink under the nose, through Cadmium Red Light Hue and T.W all the way to Prism Violet and Magenta over the eyes.

At this point, I set the skull aside for a couple of hours to dry completely. Because it was paper mache, adding layer upon layer of water soluble paints to it made it a bit... soggy. If I had continued to work on it without allowing it to dry completely, I could have malformed it, which would have made me very sad.

Once it was totally dry to the touch and sounded dry and hollow when thumped, I picked it up and continued. Most of the detail work was completed with Sharpie Markers. One day, I'll be able to get myself the 144 color set of the Prismacolor Markers, and then, oh then... no surface will be safe from me! Mwah ha ha.. ahem.

The final details on the skull were added last night around midnight. I highlit the Resin Sand dots over the eyebrows as well as the Sanskrit symbols on the cheeks with a dab of Gold paint. Signed the inside of the skull, dated it, and collapsed triumphant into bed, to dream of brightly colored corpses that glowed from within. (I have strange dreams.)

I did make one change to the final design from my initial sketch: the symbol on the right cheek is no longer the chakra symbol for Anahata. Instead, it's an actual word in Sanskrit. It says 'Tapas', which in it's shortened translation means 'spiritual austerity (while seeking a goal).' Of course, 'tapas' is also a Spanish word, and it refers to yummy food! Since the skull was patterned after a sugar skull (a traditional yummy treat in Mexico around Dia de los Muertos), I think including a dead language pun about food is pretty hilarious.

That may just be my weird sense of humor tho, or possibly the fact that I thought it up near midnight last night. Sleep dep plus art leads to some weird things. Amazing, awesome weird things. :)

I wanted to take this chance to once more thank the person who gave me these paints for my birthday a couple years ago. Without the paints, the skull wouldn't have happened, and without the skull, I think I'd be a lot more sad and a lot less content than I am today. Thank you.

Chicken Experiments

This morning I indulged my creative cook side with some roasted chicken experiments.

Yes, for fun and art I experiment with food. It relaxes me, pleases me and at the end, I get to have delicious food!

Today's experiment involved the NuWave Oven, three bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts and spices. I seasoned the first chunk of chicken with salt, paprika and chili powder; I was aiming for spicy chicken with this one. The second got some Adams Reserve House Blend Rub, a wonderfully balanced blend of garlic, black pepper and salt that I picked up at the new HEB store Friday. The third was seasoned with a Chicken and Fish blend that Lorie had in the kitchen (all of the other spices, plus a few.)

I put the chicken in skin side down for ten minutes, then flipped it and roasted the chicken for another ten minutes. Really. Twenty minutes was all it took. I was talking on the phone with my mom all the while, and she agreed that only twenty minutes to fully roast bone in chicken breasts is amazing. Usually I'd stick breasts like that in the oven for a good half hour to forty five minutes. Twenty?

I was skeptical, let me tell you. But, at the end of the second ten minute session in the NuWave Oven, the breasts looked done. Brown on top, fat running out, and the smell! mmm. I poked the breasts in the thickest part, and examined the juice that ran out. Clear juice means done chicken (this saves cutting into the breast to examine the color of the meat, btw), colored juice means cook it more. These babies ran clear.

I let them cool a bit, bagged them and stuck them in the fridge.

I tell you, I should have taken a picture of my dinner today, it was so pretty. I warmed up the Adams Reserve House Blend rubbed breast, some brown rice from the other day and added a nice side salad with some Wishbone Chunky Blue Cheese dressing. It looked pretty, smelled wonderful and tasted even better. I had a couple of King's Hawaiian sweet rolls on the side, and let me tell you, I cleaned my plate.

I'm really looking forward to trying the other two chicken breasts, as well as using that oven more! I've got a three pound bag of frozen boneless skinless chicken breasts in the freezer, as well as some wild salmon that I'm just itching to play with!

Bon Appetite!

In which I seek compassion

In the past month four gay or suspected-to-be-gay youths have committed suicide after having been bullied by their classmates.

Billy Lucas (15 years old)
Seth Walsh (13 years old)
Asher Brown (13 years old)
Tyler Clementi (18 years old)

They hung themselves, shot themselves and jumped off a bridge to escape the torment of their daily lives.

Tyler Wilson (11 years old)  had his arm broken by bullies because he joined a cheerleading squad.

I don't have the words to express how this makes me feel, but I must try.

I am unutterably sad that these young people could see no way out of the situations they were in other than to take their own lives. That level of hopeless despair, the depths of the pain they were in... I know that feeling, I remember it. I remember feeling so broken, beaten, feeling like there was no other solution, no options left. Feeling that the way things are is the way they will always be, and that to live one more day in the pit was too much...

Oh gods do I remember that feeling.

I am completely pissed that such a situation could arise. I am enraged that it has arisen not once, but four times in one month. The culture we live in sees nothing wrong with teasing and baiting children, bullying these babies until every drop of hope has been killed, rooted out and only despair remains. I fucking hate that.

I hate it when I hear 'gay' used as an insult. I want to scream when something is called 'so queer'. I want to shake the people who think buyllying isn't big deal, I want to inject empathy into them until they understand.

I want to let go of this anger and hatred in myself, because I know it is the same anger and hatred that leads to bullying, teasing, and acts of violence. The thing I reject grows inside of me; I pray for compassion. Because I know that hate and fear grow in ignorance, fostered by the same lack of hope that drove Billy, Seth, Asher and Tyler to kill themselves. Instead of focusing inward, the despair seeks outward for a target; something, anything to relieve the pressure, alleviate the suffering...

I want to find a way to tell all the hurting people that there is hope, there is a way out, there is a solution that doesn't require you to spread your pain to others. I want to tell them not to give up, not to lash out, not to suicide. I don't know if my words are enough and I fear that I lack the strength to do more.

When it hurts too much, when you can't contain it anymore, release your pain and let it go. Yes there is pain, and there is fear, but giving in to it only makes it stronger; fear and pain can strengthen you, temper you, make you better -- it is the form your actions take that gives meaning. What you do is more important than why you do it; intentions don't matter.

If you hurt and you act in violence, the violence is what will be remembered. If you ache and despair and act to harm yourself or others, it is the act that will be remembered. You will be remembered by your actions in this world, not by your motivations. It is in your acts that you will be judged, weighed, thought of.

Instead of violence, instead of hurting others to numb the pain inside, instead of following the same gods-be-damned patterns do something different. Make art, write an angry poem, volunteer with a soup kitchen, make a video about how you feel, sing a song... if the root of your fear and anger is a cultural rejection of the idealized anti-male/female/feminine then embrace that rejected half of your soul.

You want to feel whole? Happy, healthy, hopeful? You want to find peace in this moment, peace in your skin? Do you want to smile and laugh and be happy right now? This moment is all that there is: the past is a memory and the future is speculation. Right now, in this moment, you must face what you fear, face your anger, recognize in it a part of yourself, and embrace it.

The people you hate, the ones who symbolize your hate, fear and anger? Them? They don't deserve to have your unexamined Id spewed all over them. Everyone is fighting a battle of some kind; try to keep the friendly fire to an absolute minimum. And don't spread your destructive hate-filled angst around.

Outlets in which to express yourself:

The Trevor Project volunteer, call and talk, get educated.
the It Gets Better Project make a video, express yourself.
http://www.glsen.org
http://www.safeschoolscoalition.org
http://www.beatbullying.org
http://wegotyourbackproject.wordpress.com
http://www.imfromdriftwood.com

Microcosm/Macrocosm

I think a lot of relationships happen more in the mind than in reality.

The illusion of who we think we're in a relationship with is more alluring and attractive than the reality of that person for a lot of people. NRE is all about illusion, after all. It's that veil of energy that is drawn over our eyes, blinding us to the little imperfections and flaws, the magnetic pull that brings two people together. Without it, we'd never get past the little nit picks and peeves -- our species would have already died out.

For a relationship to survive past the NRE stage, the participants in that relationship must be willing to put aside their perception of their partner's flaws. The flaws are still there, just as they were from the beginning, but now, without NRE to cloud perception, the flaws become visible, noticeable. The trick seems to be to put aside one's annoyance and dislike of those flaws in order to continue to appreciate and enjoy the good parts of one's partner.

After NRE, each individual has to look at the relationship as a whole, the other person, and at themselves, and decide if the positive outweighs the negative. Or, are the flaws in the other person a relationship deal breaker?

I'm not saying that all relationships fall apart because the NRE veil is no longer there... just that for some people, it seems likely that without the NRE shiney making things sparkle and shine the other person is just too flawed.

I think, and this is just me spitballing here, that if you want to learn to love after NRE, you should learn to love yourself. If you can accept yourself as a flawed human deserving of love, respect and happiness, then you can accept other people as the same.

Microcosm/Macrocosm. Just a thought...

Angry

I was talking to a friend last night, and she said that I seemed angry. This was... well, it bothers me, because I thought I was calm.

In my ongoing quest to become more in touch with my emotions and feelings, I've decided to explore this anger.

Let me tell you the situation that aroused my emotions:

The coin theory of relationships

I once had a friend. This friend was the bees knees, the apple's blossom, she was just the coolest person ever. People orbited her, flowed in her wake and gravitated towards her.

One day, my friend went a little bit crazy. I mean, we all go a little bit crazy sometimes. You know? The world just gets too loud and sharp and dangerous, so we go away for a while. I understand this, hell, I do it myself. 

The main difference between my friend and me is in what we do when we come back from our little crazy spells.

The difference, btw, would be why after the last time my friend went crazy, she and I weren't so much friends anymore.

Let me illustrate, and see if you, dear reader, can pick up on the difference...

So, say you go a little bit crazy and take a break. You drop your friends, don't return phone calls, don't email, text or chat online. You simply are not at home to them. And one day, the crazy has retreated, you're feeling better, and you realize that all your friends aren't around anymore. You're alone.

You send out an email to your once dear and beloved, telling them that you're having a get together, and they should come over. When your friend(s) come over, you very graciously tell them that it's ok that there was a break in the relationship, you're ready to move on and forgive and forget the whole thing. 

It's ok that they stopped calling, texting or emailing you, that they didn't try hard enough to maintain the relationship. It's even ok that they weren't strong enough to break through your wall of silence to reach you, slap you around and force you into therapy. You forgive them.

Got that? Ok, here's another one:

You take a break because the world is too rough, too demanding, and you just can't take it anymore. One day, you realize you're all alone, the house is a pit and the cats need food.

So you send out an email to your friends, telling them that you've had a rough couple of months, that you're really sorry you missed all the important things in their lives, and that you'd like to reconnect with them. 

You find some therapy, even if it's just talking to your cats like the crazy cat person that you are, and you start to move out into the world again. You do your best to own your mistakes, the fact that you were a shitty friend, and to ask for forgiveness for the things you did wrong.

Got that one too?

See the fundamental difference between those two responses? One response is of a person who takes responsibility for the things they've done, for the mess, does what they can to fix their end of a relationship and allows time and space for forgiveness to come organically. The other version foists responsibility for the whole mess off onto everyone else. 

The problem with the 'foist off responsibility' track is that it robs the crazy person of agency, takes away their power to change things and makes them the helpless victim of everyone else's weakness/lack of caring/failure to breach the wall of silence. It also makes all the friends into evil people who didn't care enough to make the effort. 

I dislike the black and white approach to interpersonal relationships that implies, the hard edge of 'right/wrong' applied to the way we treat each other and the sheer power imbalance. 

If you're in a relationship where you feel like you're either the victim or the aggressor, then that relationship is unhealthy. If you're ever tempted to try to squirrel out of your share of the responsibility for relationship conflict or troubles, if you find yourself apologizing for every bump in the relationship... the relationship isn't good for you, or for your friend.

So I had this friend. And I worshiped her. She was who I wanted to be. 

I think of her sometimes, and I wonder how she is, if she's happy or sad, how she feels, what she thinks... and then I remember that I spent a lot of time apologizing to her for being weak, for being small and broken. I remember that I realized one day that there are two people in a relationship, and that every 'wrong' I'd been painted with could just as easily been hers.

I've taken responsibility for my half of the relationship, but I refused then and now, always and forevermore, to take responsibility for the other half. 

There are two sides to every relationship, each side owned by a different person.

Vegetarian Won-tons

Today's lunch was savory won-tons, or as G. told the kids "cheese presents."

I had some won-ton wrappers left over from this weekends experiment in making crab rangoons (a success, btw), so I figured I'd use them up.

In a medium bowl I mixed up half a package of firm tofu and a half package of cream cheese. To this I added about a cup of shredded sharp cheddar. I minced and added a quarter cup or so of onion and about the same amount of green bell pepper. I tossed in a knife blade's worth of Chinese five spice powder and then mixed the whole thing up. I used my hands, to squish everything together and break up the larger chunks of tofu.

I packed a teaspoon full into each won-ton skin, folded them up and dropped them into hot oil. When the bottoms turned a pretty brown, I flipped them to get the tops very lightly. I didn't leave them upside down for long because I didn't want the yummy insides to drip out.

I plated them up and served them with the rest of the won-ton skins cut up and fried on the side. A big bowl of roasted veggies rounded everything out.

The verdict from the kids was that they were very yummy (although I think the flavor was unusual enough that they tired of it quickly). I think they were incredibly good -- the crab and cream cheese ones I made over the weekend needed sweet and sour sauce to complete their flavor goodness, these were awesome without any sauce at all. Also, they're completely vegetarian.

I'll definitely be adding won-ton goodies to my regular repertoire.

Tarot

I sometimes turn to online tarot reading programs. Today, my questions was: what problems will there be with the move. And this is what I got:

The card not shown but at the center of the cross, represents the atmosphere surrounding the central issue. Ten of Pentacles (Wealth), when reversed: Material prosperity and riches squandered through slothfulness, gambling, or family problems. The loss of reputation or inheritance, or the failure to pass an inheritance along to one's children.

The card visible at the center of the cross represents the obstacle that stands in your way - it may even be something that sounds good but is not actually to your benefit. Three of Cups (Abundance): A time of merriment and reflection spent in the company of friends and loved ones. The conclusion of a matter in plenty and perfection. The strength of a diverse community being brought together. May suggest a celebration, festival, anniversary, wedding, baby shower, or other joyous gathering.

Notes from Brain Shrinkage

Today in therapy I talked about the coming changes.

Yes, I did get the job I was wondering and worrying about yesterday. Yay! The pay per minute isn't as high as I could like, but it's a job, yo. A job doing something I'm good at, something I enjoy, something that feeds my soul. A paying job.

Furthermore, a job that has a schedule. This is bliss, for me. I need the outside structure that a schedule provides; without the schedule, I have a strong tendency to remain at rest. Inertia, it's not just for objects.

Moving Stress

I keep watching the clock today. I'm waiting for one pm, when I have a phone appointment with a psychic company. I'm rather excited about this, as it will hopefully provide me with the income that I need.

You see, I'm moving in September. Before I move out, I want (need) to have my debt all paid off. So in the next month I need to earn somewhat more than $2,000. Needless to say, this is making me very stressed.

If I don't pay off the debt in full, the former life partner will most likely demand that I leave something as collateral. And I think I know what she'll ask me to leave: my grandmother's wedding china.

It took a battle to pry it out of my mother's hands; she thought I'd pawn it or sell it, you see. I would never ever do that, the china is too precious to be used for just money.

Let me back up a bit, and explain about me and money. I don't do well with money -- I see it as a tool to increase joy, to provide happiness sometimes, to get stuff... It is not a synonym for those things, it is a thing to aid in getting those things. Without it, those things can still be found; joy, pleasure, happiness and stuff are not dependent on the condition of having money.

So, me and money, we have a rough relationship. I use it like a tool, as a means to an end; it is not the end itself. And this gets me into philosophical hot water with other people sometimes.

How To Be Alone

Spoons

You all know the spoon theory, right? Good. Because that's important to know about.

And, of course, you all know that I have Major Depressive Disorder. 

Combine the two links and think about what this means for a moment. An online friend made a post today that sparked some thoughts; thoughts about spoons, time, energy, resources and the allocation of same.

Kim Addonizio

I love you but I'm married.
I love you but I wish you had more hair.
I love you more.
I love you more like a friend.
I love your friends more than you.
I love how when we go into a mall and classical muzak is playing,
you can always name the composer.
I love you, but one or both of us is/are fictional.
I love you but "I" am an unstable signifier.
I love you saying, "I understand the semiotics of that" when I said, "I
had a little personal business to take care of."
I love you as long as you love me back.
I love you in spite of the restraining order.
I love you from the coma you put me in.
I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, except for this one
guy.
I love you when you're not getting drunk and stupid.
I love how you get me.
I love your pain, it's so competitive.
I love how emotionally unavailable you are.
I love you like I'm a strange backyard and you're running from the
cops, looking for a place to stash your gun.
I love your hair.
I love you but I'm just not that into you.
I love you secretly.
I love how you make me feel like I'm a monastery in the desert.
I love how you defined grace as the little turn the blood in the
syringe takes when you're shooting heroin, after you pull back
the plunger slightly to make sure you hit the vein.
I love your mother, she's the opposite of mine.
I love you and feel a powerful spiritual connection to you, even
though we've never met.
I love your tacos! I love your stick deodorant!
I love it when you tie me up with ropes using the knots you
learned in Boy Scouts, and when you do the stoned Dennis
Hopper rap from Apocalypse Now!
I love your extravagant double takes!
I love your mother, even though I'm nearly her age!
I love everything about you except your hair.
If it weren't for that I know I could really, really love you.

- Kim Addonizio, from Lucifer at the Starlite. © W.W. Norton & Company, 2009

Jane Austen's Fight Club

Yes!

I loved Fight Club, but I have to admit that one thing I kinda disliked about it was the role it relegated women to: objects to fight over or fuck.

I love Jane Austen, in a love-to-hate kind of way.

The idea of a mashup of the two... PRICELESS! Yes! Simpering females left to either marry or die, rascal males... pish tosh, I say old boy. Girls going at it, living fiercely, with lust and vivre de joi? Right up my alley. I think this is the same thing I love about Roller Derby girls. There's something so attractive in the idea of a physically unafraid female, a woman able and eager to get dirty and fight, to live really out loud!

Pilates? Yoga? pah. Derby. Fight Club.

Rawr!

Pie Crust for the WIN!

Yesterday I recycled leftovers into a tasty stirfry. Well, I say tasty... it was a bit bland, because I didn't spice it much. The kids have a tendency to not eat anything spicy. I get to cut loose with the spice when they're at their dad's house, which is good because I LOVE spicy foods. mmm-mmm!

Today the stirfry was recycled yet again, this time into a casserole! I used instant mashed potatoes as a bottom crust, then dumped in the stir fry. I added a can of Chicken Gravy and topped the whole thing with some whole wheat pie crust. Poked some holes in the top and shoved it in the oven at 350 degrees for an hour or so. It came out much tastier, most likely because of the gravy (pie crust didn't hurt anything, either.)

I use the Betty Crocker Cookbook recipe for pie crust. I don't use the two crossed knives version of how to get the Crisco worked into the flour: instead I use a fork. My grandmother would use her fingers. I remember her standing over the bowl, her fingers covered in flour and flying through the flour and fat.

In this house we keep the temperature set around 80 (keeps the bills lower, and when we go outside we don't instantly melt), so if I were to try to use my fingers in the fat and flour, my own body heat would tip the scales and melt the fat faster than I could incorporate it. Yes, I tried. I learned my lesson, too.

Speaking of lessons... When my mom and dad had just gotten married, way back in the mid-70's, my mom decided to make a custard pie. The house they were renting didn't have central air. (And they say global climate change is a myth! Imagine a house in East Texas today with no central air...) That particular day, in the middle of summer, was especially hot. Unusually hot. Scorching. My dad comes home from school only to see lumps of something stuck to the chain link fence outside the kitchen window. He goes inside, to ask my mom what that stuff was and finds her, beating a rolling pin against the counter and crying.

My mom learned the lesson: if it's hot enough, the fat will melt before you can get it mixed into the flour. Instead of a pie crust, you'll wind up with a raw roux all over your rolling pin.

I took her lesson to heart, and now I don't even think of trying to make a pie crust if it's over 85 in the house.

There are a couple of kitcheny gadgets that can help with the pie crust melting issue. Stone or marble cutting boards kept in the refrigerator are one; hollow rolling pins that you fill with ice water are another, as are metal rolling pins or marble rolling pins.

Once I had my casserole assembled, I had a little pie crust left over. So, in some teeny tiny baking dishes I made teeny tiny pies. I didn't have enough of any single fruit on hand to make one big pie... so I improvised. Cooling on the counter right this moment? Four pies: blueberry, apricot, raspberry and peach. The after nap snacking will be epic!

Leftover Makeover Day!

Today is leftover makeover day!

You take all the leftovers in the fridge and combine them in new and interesting ways to make something fresh, new and wonderful. Today I'm thinking of using my wok in combination with my favorite kitchen gadget: the food processor. Whir, whir, buzz and food is rendered tiny or bitesized! No endless chopping and I love the sheer POWER of it!

I freely admit it, I'm a big kitchen geek. I find a great deal of bliss and joy in the kitchen. One of the things I enjoy is the process of making food. Raw ingredients (or leftovers) are transformed into delicious things for people to eat. And I did it! Any exercise of skill makes my monkey brain happy; an exercise of skill that also makes other people feel good? Priceless.

I found a place to order kitchen gadgets and doo dads online. With a qualifying order you get free shipping, which, frankly, always rocks. (I almost never remember to budget for shipping costs.) KitchenU.com is your source for professional kitchen tools for your home; high-end brands: All-Clad, Le Creuset, Shun, KitchenAid, Saeco, Breville, Rosle, Gaggia, Cuisinart and many more

In honor of leftover makeover day, tell me in comments what you like to do with your leftovers!

Mary Oliver

I don't want to live a small life

I don't want to live a small life. Open your eyes,
open your hands. I have just come
from the berry fields, the sun

kissing me with its golden mouth all the way
(open your hands) and the wind-winged clouds
following along thinking perhaps I might

feed them, but no I carry these heart-shapes
only to you. Look how many how small
but so sweet and maybe the last gift

I will ever bring to anyone in this
world of hope and risk, so do.
Look at me. Open your life, open your hands.

~Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver used to live in the home of Edna St. Vincent Millay, my most favorite poet ever! No wonder I like her work. :)

Mary Oliver: Why I Wake Early
Savage Beauty: the life of Edna St. Vincent Millay She was the first woman to win a Pulitzer for poetry! And she had an open marriage! She's my hero.

More poetry here!

Welcome to the Moment

Welcome to The Moment. I'm glad you're here! I'd like to invite you to participate with me in this moment, in this journey and in this life; we're here together for a reason.

This is just one of my blogs; I'm getting started in joining the worldwide conversation and I think that what I have to say is important enough that I should say it loud. Add your voice to mine and we could change the world together.

If you'd like, you can visit my Tarot blog, Enlightenment Tarot. I do read the cards professionally, both in person and virtually on the 'net. But, I decided that I need to communicate on subjects that aren't within the scope of my professional work. I want to feel free to comment on anything that pops into my head; I want to express myself without limits or reservations.

Come with me on this journey, I promise it'll be at least interesting. :)

Adagio Teas