Just Right For Today

Maya Angelou: The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas. The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising. Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights, I maintain an attitude of gratitude. If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow. Today I am blessed.

These are not my words. But for today, they are just right.

*Did you know that the halfway point of winter isn't until next Tuesday????

National Corn Chip Day

It's at this point in January when winter really starts to get me down. I heard this morning on the news that this is turning out to be one of the worst winters on record in northwest Ohio. I've always thought that I have a bit of Seasonal Affective Disorder and it truly makes February the longest month of the year for me. So, I decided to see if I could be a bit proactive this year.

Maybe celebrating some weird, off-beat holidays this year might help. These kinds of celebrations have always been interesting to me and who doesn't need a little pick-me-up every now and then?

Did you know that today is National Corn Chip Day?

Some background information – In 1932, C.E. Doolin entered a small San Antonio cafe and purchased a bag of corn chips. Little did he know that this snack would soon become on of the nation's most popular snack foods. Mr. Doolin learned that the manufacturer of the chips was eager to sell his small business, so he purchased the recipe for $100, and began to sell Fritos Corn Chips from his Model T Ford. The rest is history!

In honor of National Corn Chip Day how about some Frito Pie for dinner tonight?

Frito Pie
• 1 pound Velveeta cheese, cut in cubes
• 1 can (10 oz.) Rotel diced tomatoes with green chiles
• 1 package (10 oz.) regular size Fritos
• 2 cans (1 pound, 8 oz. each) chili without beans or about 5 cups homemade chili
• 8 ounces cheddar cheese, shredded

Preheat the oven to 350F degrees. Spray a medium-size baking dish with non-stick spray. Combine the cheese and tomatoes in a saucepan and heat slowly until the cheese melts. Heat the chili in another saucepan. Place half the Fritos in the baking dish. Spoon half the chili over the Fritos. Cover with a layer of cheese sauce. (There will be cheese sauce left over to use as a dip.) Scatter the remaining Fritos over the cheese. Cover with the rest of the chili and sprinkle with the shredded cheddar cheese. Bake uncovered about 30 minutes, until hot and bubbly.

I'm thinkin maybe served like this. . .yummy!

Extra silly fact - Both original and BBQ flavors of Frito Lay corn chips are considered vegan snacks!

Happy National Corn Chip Day!

What We All Like To Do

I got a snow day! I tried to get to work but it was snowing so hard that I had to stop and scrape the windshield every quarter mile or so. At the rate I was going, I would get there about noon! It's supposed to snow like that all day. . .

All of us are doing what we most like to do today.*

This is Sammy's idea of a snow day. He's a bed bug.


Here is Oliver's idea of a very good day.

This is my choice for today!

The colors in the photos aren't very good because it's so grey outside. With the boys occupied, I finished piecing the quilt top about 10:30 and draped it over the guest bed for a preview.

It has some problems, but it's my first one. I'm kind of pleased with myself! Now, on to finding some backing fabric, quilting it and adding a binding. I'm clueless but maybe I can figure it out!

I think the calendar in the craft room says it best for today:

Today truly is a gift!

* All of us isn't really true. . .poor Ali made it to work! And, she's not happy about it!

TBR Challenge - January - "The Ruins"

So far, so good on the To Be Read challenge of 2009. I squeaked in under the wire for January and finished reading The Ruins by Scott Smith yesterday.

This book had gotten rave reviews and when I picked it up in the bookstore, probably two years ago, I knew that Stephen King was saying that this book was going to do for vacations in Mexico what Jaws had done for swimming off Long Island. I'm not a huge Stephen King fan, having really only loved one book that he wrote – "It." That book was psychologically scary –combining kids, creepy clowns and sewer grates. My hope for The Ruins, was for an easy read that taught me a bit about Mayan culture, while entertaining me with a bit of horror.

The Ruins wasn't scary. It wasn't smart. It wasn't even interesting.

I hoped that the story would involve archaeology, Mayan mythology or at least folklore. As it turned out the "danger" posed had nothing to do with Mexico or the Mayan culture. The characters were completely shallow and self-absorbed and by the end of the book I was so irritated that all I could think was, "I read this many pages for THIS??"

One sentence would reveal the entire plot of this book and be a spoiler for anyone wanting to read it. My question before you buy this book would be, however, "Why would you want to?" 

I just hope my February To Be Read challenge book is a little more satisfying.

A Mixer is a Tool, Right?

I think I've mentioned before that we discovered, after making an offer to purchase our house last March, that we believe it was built by Ali's great-grandfather. (Or was it great-great?) That made the purchase more special, but it also makes it more difficult to complain about things that are wrong with the place.

The house has a MAJOR flaw. It has no basement. That fact alone is not really the problem, but it's the cause of the problem. Because it only has a crawlspace, someone decided to convert the back porch into a laundry room. So, all the water pipes run along an exposed, outside wall with no protection.

Our pipes have frozen four times in January.

Without being dramatic about it – this has sucked. It caused the worst fight Ali and I have ever had – one that took almost two days to get over. Almost as bad was laying in 8" of snow and ice on our backs on the patio, with our heads under the house, holding a hairdryer to a pipe we're not even sure is the right one and praying that the pipes don't break because we have no idea where the main shut-off valve is. Oh yeah. . .I neglected to mention that one of those days when we were laying out there it was 5:45 in the morning and the windchill was -25.

Good times.

I'm on Facebook and a few of those days I was whining in my status update about frozen pipes. Out of the blue comes a friend from college who I haven't seen or talked to in 22 years. Lynda is laid off from Whirlpool right now and offered to help. I had no idea she lived in Findlay or that she was still as nice as she was all those many years ago.

Saturday was home improvement day on Hurd Avenue. Other friends on Facebook had laughed at me - I'm really more Martha Stewart than Tim the Toolman. The only tools I know how to use effectively are ones that you use in crafting. 

Lynda knew exactly what to do. I just stood there, trying to be supportive and not feel like an idiot. 

Oliver had no such reservations about being helpful.

The whole operation took less than half an hour, in spite of Oliver's help. We went back inside and talked for awhile, catching up on 22 years and getting to know each other's partners. It was a really nice afternoon and as they left, I gave them a loaf of homemade bread. I may not be very good with plumbing but I know my way around the kitchen.

After all, a mixer is a tool, right??

52 Blessings - Week 4 - Nap Time

I'm a napper. No two ways about it. Give me a few late afternoon hours of quiet and a little patch of sun and I'm a happy girl.

The Hottest New Drug in Town

Last night, while finishing up the commercial cleaning account, we decided that pancakes and bacon sounded good for dinner. Sometimes we like breakfast at the end of the day. Mixes things up a little! Ali asked if we had everything we needed and I did a quick rundown in my head. The only thing we were short on was maple syrup.

I'm kind of a maple syrup snob. I think the insurance commercial using the talking bottle is cute - but that's all the use I have for "artificially maple flavored" syrup. The real deal is expensive, so I've been known to dole it out like methadone at a rehab center. "This is all you can have today dear! Come back and see me again tomorrow!"

We were in separate cars, so it was decided that I would go home and start dinner and Ali would stop at the store to get the syrup. I told her that there would only be one kind on the shelf and that it would be in a clear glass bottle.

As the bacon was starting to sizzle in the pan my cell phone rang. Ali was laughing so hard she could hardly talk. Slowly the story came out, between the giggles.

She had been standing in line with her one item. There weren't enough lanes open (of course) and the clerk was a bit harried. She finished the large order in front of Ali and reached out to take the syrup off the belt. She didn't look up and loudly said, "ID please!" Apparently she wasn't fooling around and saw that Ali wasn't digging fast enough in her wallet for her driver's license.

"I said, ID please!"

Ali's heart began to race. In her mind she quickly began to wonder what in the hell teenagers were doing with maple syrup that necessitated law abiding citizens to show their ID for a small glass bottle.

Confused, she started to reach for her wallet and quietly said to the grocery clerk, "It's just maple syrup. . ."

A long, awkward silence was followed by guffaws of laughter that broke the tension for everyone.

The grocery clerk apologized. A lot. Ali laughed. A lot.

Who knew that real maple syrup was the hottest new drug in town?

Yes We Can

Ani DiFranco - singing on Election Day, 2008

Sleepless

It's 3:45 and I can't sleep. I tossed and turned for awhile and eventually decided to come downstairs.

I wonder if the Obamas are asleep.

So many people, so much more eloquent than I, have written far more interesting and profound things about that seed of hope that is being nurtured and fanned in so many people in this country. I don't have much to add that will make a difference. But I need to say this.

For eight years, I have watched the government – my government, the one I was always taught was of, by and for the people – do everything in its power to divide the country into us and them.  For eight years I have listened – sometimes heartbroken and disheartened, as my fellow citizens have questioned my right to exist.

Well, I'm still here. This is my country too. It's not perfect, but neither am I. 

As I toss and turn tonight my prayer is that when history is written, January 20, 2009 will be remembered as a very good day. A day that something new was born.

52 Blessings - Week 3

The blessing this week is a comfortable chair on a winter weekend.

Calendar Creation

Here's the latest project. I'm quite pleased with it. So is Ali. She requested one for her office!

It's really simple. I took pictures of the numbers 1-31 and the letters that represent the days of the week. I resized them to be 3x3 squares and composed them on an 8x10 sheet. I sent the sheets to the photo processing lab and cut them out. Using these clips, I fastened them all together and hung them in the kitchen.

Pretty awesome if I do say so myself!

Non-Monogamy

I think I have a problem. And it's with monogamy.

Before you go and get your panties all in a twist – get your mind out of the gutter.

This is a personal, crafty-type vexation. Every little project I see turns my head! I like to sew so there's always the allure of a quilt or something interesting and challenging involving the sewing machine. With the handmade Christmas cards this year I opened the Pandora's Box of papercrafting and scrapbooking. For many, many years I loved to do counted cross stitch. Just this week I saw this and was enamored. It was enough to start wanting to drag out the embroidery floss and miniaturize a Victorian sampler. I knit. I want to do more with photography.

I think I have come to grips with the fact that I am a craft whore. 

And I'm not quite sure what that really means. Perhaps that I'm a "Jill of all trades, mistress of none?" That I have Attention Deficit Disorder? That I bore easily? 

Some people pick one thing and stick with it forever, churning out masterpiece after masterpiece. I just whisper sweet nothings to a new technique or project for awhile then I'm on to the next hot thing without so much as a look back.

Clearly, I have a problem. . .

A Decree

Remember this post?

Here is the outcome.

Ali and W were married in 2001. They separated not long after. He was, and is, a good man. He was the first to suggest that perhaps there was a way that she could be happy in a relationship that he could not provide. He continued to love her. To be kind and supportive of her.

She continued to describe him as her best friend.

He lives in another city in Ohio. They talk and text somewhat regularly. W still loves her and wishes that her life could head in a direction that would bring her back to him. She knows that it never will.

That's why last Wednesday was hard. She didn't want to hurt him. But she needed to resolve this situation - not just for her, but for him as well.

I'm very proud and thankful that she's part of my life.

Our very little celebration.

The Power of the Kitchen Table

Yesterday I had an NPR moment in the driveway. If you listen to NPR you'll know what I'm talking about. You get home but the story that you're listening to is so engrossing that you sit in the driveway until it's over. I've done it a lot. I've also been known to drive around the neighborhood until the story is done.

Last night the story that delayed me was one of the "This I Believe" essays. Go. Listen to it, or read it. I'll wait here until you get back.

I think the concept is fascinating. How could something like that be adapted for a small house? People without a lot of money to spare? A community that is fractured by self-hatred, fear and/or apathy?

When I was a pastor/missionary/spiritual director one of the most powerful "programs" that I ever facilitated was called Servant Leadership. It came from a model curriculum from Church of the Savior in Washington, DC. I took several groups to this church and what they embody is inspiring. 

The Servant Leadership program is a year-long study that combines reading, writing and discussion with a weekly meal, shared around a community table. The food is simple – soup, salad, bread and dessert. The bread is never sliced. It is torn from the loaf around the table and passed. The symbolism is dramatic.

We learned a lot from the readings. Most of us opened up in the discussions. But, the third time I led a year-long group through the curriculum, I realized that the most important aspect of the study was sharing a meal. You can emotionally hold people at arm's length during a conversation if that's what you desire to do. But I'm convinced that you can't share 52 meals with someone and not have at least some of your walls come crashing down.

As Jim Haynes said so perfectly in his essay:

"I have long believed that it is unnecessary to understand others, individuals or nationalities; one must, at the very least, simply tolerate others. Tolerance can lead to respect and, finally, to love. No one can ever really understand anyone else, but you can love them or at least accept them."

So, what could this look like in Findlay, Ohio? Anybody else intrigued? 

Inspired

My second little project on a snowy Saturday afternoon was this.


It's a place to keep track of all the little things that inspire me that I want to remember. I think this will be filled with quotes, thoughts, recipes, patterns and other miscellany that I find interesting.

This was a surprisingly easy thing to make if you can sort of sew a straight line. Or not. Perfection is overrated - at least that was what I kept telling myself as I worked on it.

I got the idea here. 

I put two signatures in mine so that it totals 116 pages.

Plenty of room for being inspired.

Little Things

The snow this weekend had a gentle blessing side. After shoveling our sidewalk and our next door neighbor's, I settled in for an afternoon of creating. When you can't go anywhere you have no excuses, right? I finished up a couple of ideas that have been lingering in my head for awhile.

The first one I'm calling "Gentle Breath." It's kind of a study of the possibilities of repetition and color. It was very simple and I'm pleased with how it turned out.

I took a butterfly shaped paper punch and used it on a variety of papers. Some were scrapbook weight. Some were out of magazines. There's even one on newsprint. I folded up the wings and then dipped each one in a two part resin. They remained shiny after hardening. The one from newsprint became so transparent that you can read the type on both sides.

All that was left was to arrange them in a frame in a way that I loved the colors. I used 1/8" foam adhesive so it looks even more like they are ready to fly away and explore our house! It was a fun, relaxing and contemplative way to spend a snowy afternoon!

Gentle Breath

My word for 2009 is gentleness and I've been giving a lot of consideration to what it means to me on a personal level. I've also been thinking about what it could mean on a larger, more expansive level.

In my morning meditation and prayer time I've begun using the word gentle. It has two syllables, making it perfect for the inhalation and exhalation of breath. As I slowly breathe in and out it occurs to me that everyone has the power to hold, and then breathe, gentleness into life. It can work in two ways.

First, holding gentleness inside has the power to effect change in me. It has the potential to frame my outlook and my perceptions, if only I give it a chance. Each inhalation of gentle breath can bring me closer to the person I was created to be.

The second part is equally powerful. The exhalation of each gentle breath contains the possibility of new life outside of me. Gentleness on my part can easily change the outcomes of my interactions with others. Gentleness in words and actions can even change the attitudes of those people with whom my life intersects.

An inward-outward journey.

Gentleness is a tiny action and a small thought. It's intangible and easily written off because the world can be a hard, unforgiving place.

As I knelt to meditate this morning I noticed that it was quietly beginning to snow. Each small, inconsequential flake fell from the sky and landed outside my window. I continued to breathe. The flakes began to gather one by one and soon there was a light blanket on the ground. The tree in front of me was being transformed into a magical white creature with many arms. I breathed. It continued to build, flake by flake. It was silent and still in its power.

Just like a very gentle breath.

What if we all breathed gently?

A Big Day

For all of you who practice prayer, who believe in the power of positive thoughts and energy or who believe that intention is a powerful thing – 

Ali is doing something important for herself this afternoon. She asked to do this thing alone, which is a powerful step for her. It says a lot about the person she has become; and the kind of journey she is on.

She gave me permission to write about these few steps in the miles of her life but I want to take my time with that. It will come.

In the meantime - send her your thoughts of peace and strength at 1:00 this afternoon. We both say thank you.

Epiphany

This is the first year that my Christmas tree has made it past the day after Christmas. Usually, I can't wait to get that thing out of there. Perhaps it's fitting that it finally made it to Epiphany. It's the 12th day after Christmas – the day of celebration that the three kings finally made it to the stable where Jesus was born.

The word epiphany means a moment of sudden revelation or insight. 

Maybe our Christmas tree, still glowing in the front window long into the first week of January, is our epiphany to slow down just a little bit and let things move at their own pace – instead of flying headlong into tomorrow before it has even come. 

Perhaps we will celebrate Epiphany tonight by taking down the tree together, packing the handmade ornaments away and baking a Three Kings Cake. (Read a really informative article about it here.)

Rosca De Reyes - Three Kings Cake

for the cake

16 ounces butter
1 lb powdered sugar
6 eggs
4 cups cake flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

for the syrup topping

2 cups brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground aniseed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 dried bean

Preheat oven to 350°F.

In large mixing bowl, cream together butter or margarine and powdered sugar. Add eggs and beat again, until light and fluffy.

Combine dry ingredients, except chopped nuts.

Gradually add dry ingredients and vanilla to creamed mixture.

Sprinkle nuts on bottom of lightly greased 9x5x4-inch loaf pan. Pour batter into pan. Bake at 350°F for 55 minutes, or until pick comes out clean and cake springs back to the touch.

Cool 10 minutes; turn cake onto wire rack to cool.

Insert dry bean or"baby" from the underside of the cake when cool.

During the last minutes cake is cooling, melt brown sugar in heavy saucepan over low heat. Remove from heat and add ground anise and vanilla extract. Pour warm syrup over freshly baked, cooled cake.

Thinking About

Things I'm Thinking About Today

1. Oliver took me for a walk this morning. Trying to find a route that was a bit more well-lit than the streets in my neighborhood at 6:15, we went down Main Street into the business district. When we got to the front of one of the nicest, most expensive restaurants in town he decided it was the perfect time to take a very large poop. 

For Christmas Ali had gotten me a roll of bags, designed just for this type of occasion. They were designed to be clipped to the handle of his retractable leash. "No biggie," I thought to myself as I took off my gloves to unroll a bag. My hands were cold and I struggled to unroll a tiny blue bag. I got more and more agitated as Oliver got more and more impatient. I picked at the roll for almost 5 minutes before discovering that the roll was taped shut and my fingers were too numb to remove the tiny little piece of tape.

With several furtive glances over my shoulder, we walked away. If you eat at a local oriental steakhouse tonight, watch where you step.

I'm thinking – Does this make me a bad person?

2. I loved having time off around the holidays but I have to confess that it's kind of nice to get back into a routine.

I'm thinking – I'm a loser, huh??

3. For Christmas, Ali got me this tiny little box of quotes called Brilliance: Uncommon Voices from Uncommon Women. There are thirty little cards. I decided to open one each Monday. Today's says, "It is only possible to live happily ever after on a day-to-day basis." - Margaret Bonanno

I'm thinking – Amen!

4. Kidney stones suck. We didn't know what we were looking for as we awaited its arrival. There were some intensive phone calls with a friend of a friend. (side note - It's not as uncomfortable as you might think, talking to a total stranger over the phone about such personal matters. . .maybe he's just an exceptional human being though! Thanks Tim!!)

Just in case you ever wondered – here's what a kidney stone looks like. . . and you don't ever want one of your own!

I'm thinking – Kind of cool, isn't it??

52 Blessings - week 1

One of the things I want to do in 2009 is learn to take better and more interesting photographs. It comes with practice I hope. I subscribe to a couple of e-newsletters on photography - photojojo for one. It was there that I read about a flickr group called 52 Blessings. Each week of 2009 you submit your best photo of something that has given you joy for the world to see. Hoping that one good photo a week will be more manageable than the 365 Project, I decided to give it a go.

52 Blessings - week 1

On New Year's Day I took time just for me. I sat down at the kitchen table to eat breakfast - instead of eating in the car or standing over the sink - and ate oatmeal from scratch and a grapefruit.

When my gramma died each grandkid took one of her special grapefruit spoons. She taught each of us to enjoy grapefruit, to laugh at the absurd and to love life. These are my goals for 2009.

TBR - The Alternates

1. Tweak: Growing Up on Methamphetamines by Nic Sheff

Sheff relates his personal struggle with drugs and alcohol in this poignant and often disturbing memoir. Paul Michael Garcia is the perfect choice for narrator; his stern and entirely believable voice captures the desolation in Sheff's tale. His reading is wonderfully underplayed, and necessarily so. Garcia becomes Sheff, offering a gritty and raw performance that demonstrates just how dire the circumstances surrounding Sheff's existence really were. (from Publishers Weekly)

2. Beautiful Children by Charles Bock

One Saturday night in Las Vegas, twelve-year-old Newell Ewing goes out with a friend and doesn’t come home. As the boy’s distraught parents navigate the mystery of what’s become of their son, the circumstances surrounding Newell’s vanishing and other events on that same night reverberate through the lives of seemingly disconnected strangers: a comic book illustrator in town for a weekend of debauchery; a painfully shy and possibly disturbed young artist; a stripper who imagines moments from her life as if they were movie scenes; a bubbly teenage wiccan anarchist; a dangerous and scheming gutter punk; a band of misfit runaways. These “urban nomads,” each with a past to hide and a pain to nurture, search for salvation as they barrel toward destruction, weaving their way through a neon underworld of sex, drugs, and the spinning wheels of chance. (from Amazon.com)

3. The Amnesiac by Sam Taylor

Hailed as “one to watch ” by the UK’s Telegraph, Sam Taylor is one of the most imaginative and innovative young writers at work today. With The Amnesiac, his United States debut, he incorporates a murder mystery and a forgotten manuscript into an exhilarating and intelligent novel. When twenty-nine-year-old James Purdew returns to England from his home in Amsterdam, it is to discover what happened during three earlier years of his life that he cannot recall. What he finds, in an old house with a tragic history, is a nineteenth-century manuscript that begins to seem less and less like a work of fiction—and more like the key to his own lost past. Memory and amnesia, fiction and reality, destiny and randomness, heaven and hell—all converge to form an engrossing gothic story that is sure to appeal to fans of Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind. (from Amazon.com)

4. The Ruins by Scott Smith

Four American tourists vacationing in Cancun make friends with a German traveler and join the hunt for his brother, who has mysteriously vanished after following a new flame to an archeological site. But inadequate planning, horrendous conditions and unforeseen dangers quickly turn this jungle adventure into a fight for survival. The novel itself is creepy, compelling and simple in scope, but the audiobook adaptation doesn't quite succeed in relating the feeling of dread the text imparts. Wilson reads in an assured (if somewhat flat) voice in the tenor range, but his tone often seems too light to properly convey the novel's dark and foreboding mood. He also doesn't do much to differentiate between the characters; although Smith has characters who feel very real and distinct, listeners could have used more help from the narrator to distinguish one point-of-view from the next. A book like this one—which presents the story from several different POVs—would have benefited from a team of talented narrators to help bring the narrative to life. Regrettably, Wilson goes it alone, delivering a sufficient but mediocre performance. (from Publishers Weekly)

5.  Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction by David Sheff 

(This is the same story as #1. #1 is the son. This one is told from the perspective of the father.)

Expanding on his New York Times Magazine article, Sheff chronicles his son's downward spiral into addiction and the impact on him and his family. A bright, capable teenager, Nic began trying mind- and mood-altering substances when he was 17. In months, use became abuse, then abuse became addiction. By the time Sheff knew of his son's condition, Nic was strung out on meth, the highly potent stimulant. While his son struggles to get clean, his second wife and two younger children are pulled helplessly into the drama. Sheff, as the parent of an addict, cycles through denial and acceptance and resistance. The author was already a journalist of considerable standing when this painful story began to unfold, and his impulse for detail serves him personally as well as professionally: there are hard, solid facts about meth and the kinds of havoc it wreaks on individuals, families and communities both urban and rural. His journey is long and harrowing, but Sheff does not spare himself or anyone else from keen professional scrutiny any more than he was himself spared the pains—and joys—of watching a loved one struggling with addiction and recovery. Real recovery creates—and can itself be—its own reward; this is an honest, hopeful book, coming at a propitious moment in the meth epidemic. (from Publishers Weekly)

6. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister: A Novel by Gregory Maguire

Gregory Maguire's chilling, wonderful retelling of Cinderella is a study in contrasts. Love and hate, beauty and ugliness, cruelty and charity--each idea is stripped of its ethical trappings, smashed up against its opposite number, and laid bare for our examination. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister begins in 17th-century Holland, where the two Fisher sisters and their mother have fled to escape a hostile England. Maguire's characters are at once more human and more fanciful than their fairy-tale originals. Plain but smart Iris and her sister, Ruth, a hulking simpleton, are dazed and terrified as their mother, Margarethe, urges them into the strange Dutch streets. Within days, purposeful Margarethe has secured the family a place in the home of an aspiring painter, where for a short time, they find happiness.
But this is Cinderella, after all, and tragedy is inevitable. When a wealthy tulip speculator commissions the painter to capture his blindingly lovely daughter, Clara, on canvas, Margarethe jumps at the chance to better their lot. "Give me room to cast my eel spear, and let follow what may," she crows, and the Fisher family abandons the artist for the upper-crust Van den Meers.

When Van den Meer's wife dies during childbirth, the stage is set for Margarethe to take over the household and for Clara to adopt the role of "Cinderling" in order to survive. What follows is a changeling adventure, and of course a ball, a handsome prince, a lost slipper, and what might even be a fairy godmother. In a single magic night, the exquisite and the ugly swirl around in a heated mix:

Everything about this moment hovers, trembles, all their sweet, unreasonable hopes on view before anything has had the chance to go wrong. A stepsister spins on black and white tiles, in glass slippers and a gold gown, and two stepsisters watch with unrelieved admiration. The light pours in, strengthening in its golden hue as the sun sinks and the evening approaches. Clara is as otherworldly as the Donkeywoman, the Girl-Boy. Extreme beauty is an affliction...
But beyond these familiar elements, Maguire's second novel becomes something else altogether--a morality play, a psychological study, a feminist manifesto, or perhaps a plain explanation of what it is to be human. Villains turn out to be heroes, and heroes disappoint. The story's narrator wryly observes, "In the lives of children, pumpkins can turn into coaches, mice and rats into human beings. When we grow up, we learn that it's far more common for human beings to turn into rats." (from Amazon.com)

An Interesting Start to the New Year

When the dogs got me up at 6:45 this morning I went downstairs to find Ali standing in the bathroom. It took her about 4 seconds to announce that we were headed to the ER. She hadn't been feeling well on New Year's Eve and I knew she thought she was getting a bladder infection.

Turns out it's a 4mm kidney stone.

I've never had one and neither had she. It's. Not. Fun.

Fortunately, Vicodin seems to be working quite well. It's been a day of waiting, popping pain pills, straining pee through a little cone sieve and sleeping. Did I mention the waiting? It could be two or three days until the little thing makes it's exit.

Feeling a little helpless, I think I'm hovering too much. It's just frustrating to witness pain and not be able to help very much. I asked her what sounded good for dinner. I knew what she would say before I asked. It's her favorite comfort food. She asked for Chicken and Noodles.

It's a recipe I've been working at for a long time. I love it and always wish it had a little more depth of flavor. I fiddled with it again today and this time I think it's perfect. So, I'll share! 

1 fryer chicken, cut into parts

2 T. vegetable oil

1/2 tsp. salt

4 carrots, sliced

2 ribs celery, sliced

1 onion, diced

6 T. butter

6 T. flour

4 1/2 cups chicken stock

2 bay leaves

1 tsp. thyme

uncooked egg noodles

1/2 cup heavy cream

Rinse and dry chicken parts. Season well with salt and pepper. Heat oil to VERY hot in heavy dutch oven. Sear chicken pieces on both sides for 5-8 minutes. Remove chicken from pan. Add butter, salt and chopped vegetables. Deglaze pan. Add flour and cook for 1 minute. Add chicken stock and spices. Place chicken back in pan and cook over low heat, covered, for one hour.

Remove chicken and allow to cool while cooking noodles in the sauce in pan. Debone and chop chicken. Remove bay leaves. Add chicken back to pan when noodles are done. Remove from heat and stir in heavy cream. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

This was SO GOOD! Browning the chicken and then cooking everything in the same pan adds a huge boost to the flavor. We both like it ladled over mashed potatoes in a bowl, eaten with a spoon! It was so good Ali at two bowls. 

Now, if it would just invite a certain little stone out and into the world we would all feel a lot better!

A Word for this Year

I'm not one for a bunch of New Year's Resolutions. I used to try and then get really down on myself when I "failed." This year, as I was thinking about what I wanted for myself in 2009 I decided to come up with one word that summed up my desires for the new year.

It didn't take me long to come up with my word.

Instead of a list of things that were somehow framed in negativity – I will stop eating all junk food. . .or else. . . – I wanted something that would encompass the direction I wanted my life to proceed. If I am gentle with myself then I can make slow and positive changes as I am ready and willing. No deadlines. No consequences. Just gentleness.

I want to give that to myself. And make it my gift to others with whom my daily encounters intersect.

I may make this work the focus of some art this year. Some writing. I will certainly use this word for my meditation mantra each day. We shall see.

The following quote has always been inspiring to me. It's been printed out and posted on the edge of my computer screen for quite awhile. May it inspire you too.

Don't lose any opportunity, however small, of being gentle toward everyone. Don't rely on your own efforts to succeed in your various undertakings, but only on God's help. Then rest in his care of you, confident that he will do what is best for you, provided that you will, for your part, work diligently but gently. I say "gently" because a tense diligence is harmful both to our heart and to our task and is not really diligence, but rather over eagerness and anxiety...I recommend you to God's mercy. I beg him, through that same mercy, to fill you with his love. 

– St. Francis de Sales

Happy New Year.