The Sea will Hold You

My world is new. 

And don't assume I mean the so-called "Spring" happening around me.

The hesitant grass gains enough courage to appear, but lacks the confidence to arch its fresh spine and sit up in its muddy bed. I can understand. After all, this isn't what Spring is supposed to be... it's just grey and muddy and waiting. 

That is how my new world looks. Not "new" as in fresh and vibrant and changing. But "new" as in grey and muddy and only waiting for what comes next. New as in different; new as in unknown. 

When I face the unknown, when I feel rained on and walking into the wind, I look for comfort. Warmth in all its various forms. Umbrellas. Scarves. A pleasantly overheated second-floor apartment. Kind words from kind people. And even kind words from people I don't know-

First Lesson, by Philip Booth

Taken from page 190 of "Good Poems" by Garrison Keillor... and seriously, they are.

Lie back, daughter, let your head

be tipped back in the cup of my hand.

Gently, and I will hold you. Spread

your arms wide, lie out on the stream

and look high at the gulls. A dead-

man's-float is face down. You will dive 

and swim soon enough where this tidewater

ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe 

me, when you tire on the long thrash

to your island, lie up, and survive. 

As you float now, where I held you

and let go, remember when fear

cramps your heart what I told you:

lie gently and wide to the light-year

stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

Isn't that just beautiful? 

In changing tides, and strong waves you've just gotta ride out... 

calm down and just float a while. 

Shopping Cart Psychology

I've always had this theory that you can tell an awful lot about a person by checking out the contents of their cart at the grocery store. I'm serious. Vegetarian or carnivore. Kids or no kids. No prep foods for people in a hurry, for both parents working, or for scaredy-cooks. You can spot in a second: the hostess, the diet coke addict, the sweet tooth. The health-conscious, the hippie-health-conscious, and the bachelor. The brown bagger, the empty-nesters, the hamburger-helper family of (conveniently) four. One of my recent favorites was a colorful elderly couple behind me in line who bought only TV dinners and individual Kool-Aid packets... and lots of 'em. Don't you just wonder? Or the baby-boomer/ coupon clipper in front of me who checked multiple times to be sure his discount was correct. "A penny saved is..." well, you know. Or the hesitant arm who reached past me in the cereal aisle to grab the strawberry-flavored Frosted Mini Wheats. A thirty-something Asian guy, shopping alone but for a family. I always wondered who bought cereal like that. The kind with really unnecessary flavoring. I guess now I know.

Of course I'm included in this slightly-judgmental, yet harmlessly fascinating study. Sometimes I shudder to think of how many people I appear to be shopping for, or neighboring glances wondering why anyone would buy that much cheese. And then I remember, oh yeah. Nobody notices, get over yourself and your cheese. 

However, "you are what you eat" puts into question our very identity. How intriguing to think that what we eat, what we buy, how we look-- these details display our perceived identity to the majority of the world. (That is, the world we pass on the street everyday and the world we maneuver past in the canned goods aisle once a week. Not perhaps to those who matter most.) So much of life is made up of ordinary decisions and tasks like grocery shopping or getting a haircut-- can we deny the fact that these daily ventures are part of a whole life? Pebbles in a conglomerate? Yes, even our grocery lists are contributors to our complex, evolutionary identities. Nothing done weekly for a lifetime can be considered completely irrelevant to that life.

As entertaining as it is to test my theory, I know that my supermarket portraits are little more than a glimpse into someone's living room, or a peek into their walk-in closet. They are only perception of a person. Therefore, it would be a huge waste of time to worry about the stories I will conjure up about you the next time I see your grocery cart full of Fresca and Hungry Man dinners. After all, I know you only buy them for nights you work late, which lately is often. And you just happen to love Fresca on the rocks. With a twist. While you watch Jimmy Kimmel Live- with your cat, Nibbles- which is actually sometimes hilarious. But again, I know that shopping cart is only a small part of who you are and what you do and what you love. I just like to imagine- as the wheels of my cart squeak across Cub towards produce and the promised land- that your shopping cart is a rather vital piece of your whole.

Real Love, According to the Beatles

Have you ever heard the Beatles' song "Real Love"? If you haven't, you should. It's completely 1950's prom, in a good way. I mean, it feels forever young, purely happy, sweet, and it's got a great slowdancing-with-your-sweetheart kind of vibe.

Anyway, I think I know who that song is about. From one of my favorite NPR programs, StoryCorps, meet Marcia and Seymour:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=104979771

Good Advice

http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/worldhaveyoursay/japantsunami.jpg

"We can do no great things; only small things with great love." Mother Teresa

Being the "New Guy"

Headlines from the last couple weeks:

Job Offers: 2 1/2. Jobs Taken: 1. 

Times it took to quit my old job: 3. Apartments found: 1.

Two weeks into my new job! Training in the warehouse, (above).

I really like it so far, I'm be working for a company that rents specialty linens, chairs, chair covers, furniture, tabletop accessories and centerpieces for events! Perfect for someone like me who sets a nice table even for take-out! I do have to admit that I'm sick of being new on the job...  but it can't last forever, right?

Making Fresh Tracks

I'm sick of scraping my car, zipping my coat, wrapping my scarf, closing the windows. But even after this snow-full winter, I still enjoy making fresh tracks in the snow on a long walk with Pete. We had a good heart to heart, like usual. He always understands. About making fresh tracks... While I'm so anxious to start my new job and move, I've always been a person with a sense of place. I value environment, and roots. I started to think about leaving for good. About how my sense of place will change, and how I will see my home in a new light; I will see it as someone removed.

On my walk it became clearer to me that the things and spaces around me are only associations-- for time spent, worked, and wasted. But they are not only associations as in merely, for what good are our memories if we aren't tied to them? Not tied outside of us, like in a snapshot or a song. Those are only triggers. But in spaces and surroundings, our bodies AND our minds are able to connect to times and memories. We can stand in those idealized, immortalized spaces. We can let our memory naturally inhabit us-- from the numbing of our cheeks, to the familiar sounds of the backyard at nightfall, to the smells of each season. Our mind recreates memories in dimensions otherwise unattainable. As we stand, time gets lost. Age loses importance, contentment and peace fill us. That is where a good, long walk in solitude leads me. On this particular walk, I tried to see past the associations and see the space and things around me in the clearest prescription. What I realized, with a critical eye, is that this place is not very special. There are many places more beautiful, and in a broad sense it is not even very unique. But still, as I look even beyond the associations of my mind and body, it is my ideal place in many ways.

More and more, I see this perspective as a gift that has been strengthened by time spent in that place. As I leave, I am so thankful for this place, its strong ties to memory and meaning, and the people who created that it for me. I hope I can do as well in places to come....

Warm Your Guts.

Ok. This is hands-down one of my favorite recipes to make when it's chilly. It's hearty, full of flavor, and if you have a little time it's actually kind of relaxing to make! One of the best parts is that you can alter the amounts a bit, according to taste and what you have around. Once I made it as a pot roast in the oven... way good. As a stew, though, I almost always add more stock, and seem to add whatever I have on hand for potatoes and vegetables. (It's turned out great with chicken stock subbing for beef, too.) It will simmer ALL AFTERNOON. The smelly-goodness will fill the kitchen, and you'll be honestly warmed all the way through. Do it my way- pop in an old black-and-white movie for some good background noise, and make an afternoon of it!

Classic Beef Stew
(Recipe adapted from allrecipes.com!)
You'll need (most amounts are flexible):
Beef round or stew meat (2-4 lbs.)
Flour (to coat beef)
Olive Oil 
2 Onions, diced
1 6 oz. can Tomato Paste
1 c. dry red wine
4 c. Potatoes, cubed
2 c. Carrots, cut up
1 c. Frozen Peas (optional)
2-4 c. Beef Broth 
Bay Leaf
1 t. Thyme
1 T. Kosher Salt


Prep veggies and trim beef. Make broth. Coat beef cubes in flour. Heat few T.'s oil over med-high heat in skillet. Brown meat. Transfer meat to dutch oven. Add onions to skillet, cook about 10 minutes or until tender. Stir in tomato paste, coat onions, transfer to dutch oven. Pour wine into skillet, scrape out brown bits and transfer wine to dutch oven. Stir in broth, salt, thyme, and bay leaf. Cook on stovetop on low for 2 1/2 hours (or in the oven at 325 degrees for 4 hours) and stir occasionally. Add 1-2 cups additional broth if necessary (I usually use 4 cups total). Add potatoes and carrots in last hour, add peas just before serving. (If freezing: skip peas, add when reheating. To reheat: thaw slowly and warm in saucepan over med-low heat.)


Serve HOT HOT HOT! with good, crusty bread.