Meatball soup!
I have been making this soup for a few years now. It's a weekly go-to for me during the colder months, for so many reasons. Very filling, warming, and tasty. And it's nice to have for lunch, for a couple of days after. It just gets better if it sits for a day or two in the refrigerator.
Ingredients:
2 medium sized onions.
4 tbsp butter
1 pound of your favourite Italian Sausage.
4 cups chicken broth (I use bone broth.)
1 28 oz tin of diced tomatoes
1/2 cup of a good red wine*
3 TBSP smoked paprika
1 TBSP dried basil
1 TBSP dried oregano
1 TSP dried thyme
1 TBSP granulated garlic, or a fine mince of about 4 fresh cloves
1/2 TSP celery salt.
Your favourite cruciferous vegetable. I love Broccoli Rabe in this, but kale, regular broccoli, cauliflower, and even chard work well.
Method:
Chop onions in half, then slice into about 1/4 inch slices. Roll your sausage into balls, and place them near the pot you will use. I have discovered over the years that I prefer to just make meatballs from the sausage, and not add any binding agent. They really don't need it, and the texture just seems to turn out better. I also like to be sure the tomatoes and broth are ready at this stage. Onions need babysitting, so the more you get done first, the better.
On high heat, sautee the onions in the butter until barely caramelized. If using fresh garlic, stir this in, just before adding tomatoes.
Reduce heat to medium. Add tomatoes and wine, and stir, to deglaze a bit.
Add paprika, basil, oregano, thyme, garlic, (if using granulated,) and celery salt. Stir.
Add broth, stir, then add meatballs.
Cover, and simmer over medium heat for 30 minutes.
Add your vegetables, cover for another 2 minutes, and serve.
I like to chop a large amount of vegetables for this soup, store the rest, and only use what I think I will eat when served. That way, when there are leftovers, I can add fresh vegetables to the soup, each time. No grody, overdone veggies, ever!!!
Serves 6.
*The wine adds a richness to it, but can be left out. I have been leaving it out lately, since I haven't been able to tolerate it. At any rate, if you do add it, be sure to use something that you'd like to drink. Nothing ruins a recipe quite like rot-gut. :)
-H
Monday, October 24, 2016
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Hedy's Shakshouka! Say it! You know you want to. Shakshouka! Shakshouka! Shakshouka!
Shakshouka is pretty delicious, and you can do a lot of different things with it. This one is a loose North-African adaptation, but I don't claim to be 100% anything, so I added some of my own spin on this. It's also a perfectly easy Tuesday night meal, or for whenever the heck you want. Hell, have it for brunch. Throw some vodka on top. It's like a bloody, without all the cups.
OK, don't really do that, but I guess you could.
Report back.
Ingredients:
1 tbsp butter
2 red bell peppers
1 good sized red onion
5 cloves garlic, minced
5 white button mushrooms, sliced
Juice of 2 limes
1/2 cup of very good, flavourful stock. Your choice. Don't use possum.
A nice big handful of kalamata olives, pitted
1 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes, or the equivalent of concasse, if you feel like doing all of that stuff with tomatoes. (I don't really think it makes a difference, but whatever floats your grandma down the stream, while she sings...)
2 tbs cumin
1 tbs coriander
2 tbs curry powder
1 tbsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp cinnamon
8 eggs
Salt to taste
Method:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roast peppers for about 20 minutes, maybe more, maybe less. I like them to have a good char on the outside, but not be dried out, on fire, or burnt. Once they are out, set them aside to cool enough to be handled. DO NOT PEEL. Once cooled sufficiently to the touch, place in food processor, or blender, and blend. Set aside, until ready to use.
Finely chop onion, garlic, and olives. Separately, please. (The olives don't actually go into the pan for quite some time, but it's just better to have everything chopped up and ready to go beforehand, so you DON'T BURN THINGS.) Slice mushrooms.
Place butter and onion into the pan. Saute until they are all sweaty and wanton looking. Then, add the mushrooms. Do the same to them, until it looks like some kind of obscene orgy. Yeah, baby, this is when you add the garlic. Do the garlic thing for a minute, then add the spices, except for the cinnamon. You want these to toast, but again, DON'T BURN ANYTHING!!! DON'T DO IT. AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
Where were we? Oh right. Next, add the stock, and lime juice. This will deglaze the pan a little, getting most of that sweet, toasty goodness off of the bottom. Add the tomatoes, and the peppers.
Stir this for a few minutes, until it thickens up. Add the cinnamon. I like to add this, this way, because I just want a whisper of cinnamon (yes, I did just impersonate Niles from "Frasier" as I typed this out.) I don't want the cinnamon to be too intense in this.
Add the finely chopped olives, then salt to taste. Do this now, before the eggs go in. It's hard to salt things when they can't move.
At this point, I like to turn the heat off, and transfer half of the mixture into a separate pan of the same size. You can, of course, reserve half of this for another day as leftovers if you are only serving 2 people. (This recipe serves four with a bit of sauce left over.)
Allow to cool for a couple of minutes, then begin to make wells in your sauce, with the back of a large serving spoon. This will serve as the sweet little cradle for your egg.
Crack your eggs, one at a time, into a small custard cup, or ramekin. This ensure you have good eggs, and also ensures you don't break your yolks, trying to get them into the pan. Slide the eggs into the little wells, until you have what you want.
I like to grate a little manchego cheese on top of each egg, but you could also use parmesan, or some other salty cheese. Feta is fabulous with this, as well.
Place lids on each pan, and turn the heat to medium. Check every couple of minutes or so. You want the tops to be set, but the yolks to be a bit on the liquid side. It's OK to err on the side of undercooked here, because the sauce will be very hot, and the eggs will continue to cook for a wee bit longer, once you bowl them up.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
The Barium Walk...
Today, I got to try barium for the first time. It tasted like a vanilla Shaklee Meal Shake from the '80s.
They took quite a few pictures of my guts, then they gave me a different type of barium with some bitter digestive shit that tasted like aspirin. It still was not the worst thing I have ever had in my mouth, but I'm glad I don't have to do that again, any time soon.
For the last part of the exam, I had to drink the bitter stuff, then walk around for an hour while it worked its way through my system. They grabbed me once during that hour, took gut pictures, then made me walk for another half hour, taking more gut pictures. My guts are surprisingly not that weird looking, which I suppose is a good thing.
Anyway, while I did my laps, I made friends with a few techs. We hi fived a few times, but I tried not to make too big a deal of it, because they had their jobs, and I had my really boring one.
I decided to make up a little song: I call it "The Barium Walk" I... may have stolen the tune of "Word Up!" from Cameo. Whatever.
Anyway, here ya go:
Big booty baby, walk down the hall...
Turn right, then right, then right, and then right.
Stop in the middle, and do your dance,
Shake your booty left and right to make the barium go down.
It goes down, it goes down, keeps going down,
just keep walking to the beat and keep a turning to the right.
Walk around, walk-a-round, do your dance now
Mama come on baby do the Barium Walk!
Barium! Everybody say! When you hear the call you got to get your x-ray...
Yeah, I'm kind of a dork.
-H
They took quite a few pictures of my guts, then they gave me a different type of barium with some bitter digestive shit that tasted like aspirin. It still was not the worst thing I have ever had in my mouth, but I'm glad I don't have to do that again, any time soon.
For the last part of the exam, I had to drink the bitter stuff, then walk around for an hour while it worked its way through my system. They grabbed me once during that hour, took gut pictures, then made me walk for another half hour, taking more gut pictures. My guts are surprisingly not that weird looking, which I suppose is a good thing.
Anyway, while I did my laps, I made friends with a few techs. We hi fived a few times, but I tried not to make too big a deal of it, because they had their jobs, and I had my really boring one.
I decided to make up a little song: I call it "The Barium Walk" I... may have stolen the tune of "Word Up!" from Cameo. Whatever.
Anyway, here ya go:
Big booty baby, walk down the hall...
Turn right, then right, then right, and then right.
Stop in the middle, and do your dance,
Shake your booty left and right to make the barium go down.
It goes down, it goes down, keeps going down,
just keep walking to the beat and keep a turning to the right.
Walk around, walk-a-round, do your dance now
Mama come on baby do the Barium Walk!
Barium! Everybody say! When you hear the call you got to get your x-ray...
Yeah, I'm kind of a dork.
-H
Monday, February 29, 2016
Two recipes in one post! ZOMG!!! Hummus, and Baba. Yeah, baby!
I'll start with my hummus. I used to be really obnoxious and elitist about this stuff, but I've changed my tune, mostly. See? This used to be a three day process. I'd sprout my garbanzos for three days. Then? I'd boil them. Then? I'd shell them, and make the hummus, from there.
Who has time for that? Not me. At least not anymore.
I do still insist on shelling the garbanzos, though. There is a restaurant here that I won't name, but many know... for their beer. They do have excellent beer. Buy the beer. Skip their hummus. Trust me. The hummus is rough and boring.
Anyway, if you have buddies, or kids, put them to work! More hands make less work, and take less time. Just make sure everyone washes them well first! :)
OK. So, here is my recipe. Of course, you can still do it the way I used to. It's really beautiful stuff made that way, too. I just don't really prioritize beans the way I used to. This is a treat, after all.
Hedy's Hummus
Equipment you will need:
3 bowls. Or two bowls, if you throw things on the floor, or table like a wild animal. I don't know...
Food Processor
Rubber Spatula
Ingredients:
2 14 oz cans garbanzo beans. (I use Trader Joe's OG.)
1/2 jar Alexis brand tahini, if you can get it. Otherwise, whatever reliable, extra smooth tahini you can get your hands on, will do. I also like Arrowhead Mills.
3-4 lemons, depending on size. Last time, I used 4 small lemons.
4 cloves fresh garlic
2 tbsp cumin
1/2 cup water, or more, depending...
1/2 cup olive oil or more, depending...
1 tsp salt, or more to taste.
Sumac, or smoked paprika for finishing.
Method:
Set your bowls out in front of you. Grab a handful of garbanzo beans, and pinch them until the pea pops out of the skin, into a clean bowl. Piiiing! Deposit your skins into the other bowl. Keep going until this is all done. Trust me. You want to do this. This is why it is so smooth.
Squeeze those lemons, baby. Until the juice runs into the bowl...
Smash your garlic cloves to peel them. Ha-chapa!
Place shelled garbanzos and 1/2 of your jar of tahini into the food processor. Start to blend, adding water as you go. It will start to emulsify beautifully at this point. You want the entire mixture to move, but not to get too thin yet, so keep an eye on this.
Add lemon juice. Blennnnnnd.
Add garlic and cumin. Blennnnnd.
Stream in the olive oil and add the salt. Blennnnd...
Turn it out into a nice, pretty bowl. Top with a small amount of olive oil, and sumac, if you can find it. If not, use a small amount of smoked paprika.
And that's a-hummussss!!!
Hedy's Baba Ganoush
Equipment you will need:
Food Processor
Rubber Spatula
Baking dish
Oven
Ingredients:
1 medium sized male eggplant. (This one has a round spot on the bottom, rather than a slit. Fewer seeds, less bitter than the female counterpart.)
1/2 jar of Tahini. I prefer Alexis Brand, but any tahini that has proven to be very smooth will work.
3-4 lemons
1/4 - 1/2 cup water
1/2 cup, (Or possibly more) olive oil.
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp cumin
4 cloves garlic
Method:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Chop your eggplant into cubes, and pour a bit of olive oil into the base of a 9 X 13" baking dish. Add your cubes of eggplant to the dish, and toss around in the oil to coat. Try to evenly coat these to avoid too much oil saturation. Add a bit of salt, and roast at 425 for about 20 minutes. Check on them at about 15, just to see where they are, and whether or not they need to be turned.
Allow to cool completely.
Add eggplant and tahini to your food processor. Start processing, and stream in a small amount of water. Once this moves well, add the rest of the ingredients, except for the oil. If the mixture is very thick, add a bit more water, and then stream in the oil slowly.
And there you have ze baba, baby!
-H
Who has time for that? Not me. At least not anymore.
I do still insist on shelling the garbanzos, though. There is a restaurant here that I won't name, but many know... for their beer. They do have excellent beer. Buy the beer. Skip their hummus. Trust me. The hummus is rough and boring.
Anyway, if you have buddies, or kids, put them to work! More hands make less work, and take less time. Just make sure everyone washes them well first! :)
OK. So, here is my recipe. Of course, you can still do it the way I used to. It's really beautiful stuff made that way, too. I just don't really prioritize beans the way I used to. This is a treat, after all.
Hedy's Hummus
Equipment you will need:
3 bowls. Or two bowls, if you throw things on the floor, or table like a wild animal. I don't know...
Food Processor
Rubber Spatula
Ingredients:
2 14 oz cans garbanzo beans. (I use Trader Joe's OG.)
1/2 jar Alexis brand tahini, if you can get it. Otherwise, whatever reliable, extra smooth tahini you can get your hands on, will do. I also like Arrowhead Mills.
3-4 lemons, depending on size. Last time, I used 4 small lemons.
4 cloves fresh garlic
2 tbsp cumin
1/2 cup water, or more, depending...
1/2 cup olive oil or more, depending...
1 tsp salt, or more to taste.
Sumac, or smoked paprika for finishing.
Method:
Set your bowls out in front of you. Grab a handful of garbanzo beans, and pinch them until the pea pops out of the skin, into a clean bowl. Piiiing! Deposit your skins into the other bowl. Keep going until this is all done. Trust me. You want to do this. This is why it is so smooth.
Squeeze those lemons, baby. Until the juice runs into the bowl...
Smash your garlic cloves to peel them. Ha-chapa!
Place shelled garbanzos and 1/2 of your jar of tahini into the food processor. Start to blend, adding water as you go. It will start to emulsify beautifully at this point. You want the entire mixture to move, but not to get too thin yet, so keep an eye on this.
Add lemon juice. Blennnnnnd.
Add garlic and cumin. Blennnnnd.
Stream in the olive oil and add the salt. Blennnnd...
Turn it out into a nice, pretty bowl. Top with a small amount of olive oil, and sumac, if you can find it. If not, use a small amount of smoked paprika.
And that's a-hummussss!!!
Hedy's Baba Ganoush
Equipment you will need:
Food Processor
Rubber Spatula
Baking dish
Oven
Ingredients:
1 medium sized male eggplant. (This one has a round spot on the bottom, rather than a slit. Fewer seeds, less bitter than the female counterpart.)
1/2 jar of Tahini. I prefer Alexis Brand, but any tahini that has proven to be very smooth will work.
3-4 lemons
1/4 - 1/2 cup water
1/2 cup, (Or possibly more) olive oil.
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp cumin
4 cloves garlic
Method:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Chop your eggplant into cubes, and pour a bit of olive oil into the base of a 9 X 13" baking dish. Add your cubes of eggplant to the dish, and toss around in the oil to coat. Try to evenly coat these to avoid too much oil saturation. Add a bit of salt, and roast at 425 for about 20 minutes. Check on them at about 15, just to see where they are, and whether or not they need to be turned.
Allow to cool completely.
Add eggplant and tahini to your food processor. Start processing, and stream in a small amount of water. Once this moves well, add the rest of the ingredients, except for the oil. If the mixture is very thick, add a bit more water, and then stream in the oil slowly.
And there you have ze baba, baby!
-H
Friday, January 8, 2016
Hedybean's brown butter acorn squash soup
Today I was not feeling it. Didn't want to go to the grocery store. There weren't many veggies in the house, but I did have a few... things. So, I decided to make a butternut squash soup, but with acorn squash, since that's what I had. There really isn't much difference in taste and texture between the two. I also figured it would make for a smaller pot of soup. Just enough for the three of us, with a bit left over for someone to have for lunch tomorrow. I happened to have squash, onions, chicken, and stock available. Don't look in my fridge right now though. There was not much else.
I'll fix that later.
So, I baked off the squash this morning while I did my yoga, and then I left to get the kids from school, as it is their early release day. They get out at noon on Fridays, so I have a choice. I can grocery shop and stay on that end of town, or I can come home and work out, and then sprint right back over there.
Today, I chose the yoga.
Anyway, without further ado, I give you:
Hedybean's Acorn Squash Soup.
Mise en place:
1 roasted acorn squash
20 ounces chicken stock
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 tbsp garlic powder
1 tbsp TJ's curry powder
3 tbsp salted butter. I like Kerrygold.
3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (Optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Recommended tools:
Dutch oven sized stock pot.
Good, sharp vegetable knife/cutting board. (Hey, I don't know your kitchen. May as well recommend erthang.)
A blender that can handle hot soup, or an immersion blender.
Grill pan, for cooking chicken.
Method:
Roast your acorn squash at 375 for about 30-40 minutes, depending on your oven. (I say this because my oven runs very hot. I really set mine for 350, but it reads... a scant 25 degrees higher.)
Salt and pepper, place chicken on grill pan.
Sweat and lightly toast your diced onion in about 2 tablespoons of salted butter. Once they are a lovely light brown, and the butter has browned (Homer Simpson is drooling off in the distance somewhere...) add your chicken stock.
Stir until simmering but not boiling and add your roasted squash, seasonings, and remaining butter. Use your blender of choice to blend until smooth.
Cut cooked chicken breasts into cubes, and add to your bowls of soup. (Yes, of course, you can cook the chicken ahead of time, or use rotisserie chicken. Just be sure it's going into the bowls hot. I'm sure it will also work well!)
Enjoy!
Serves 6 normal people.
Serves... about 4 ravenous raccoon girls.
I'll fix that later.
So, I baked off the squash this morning while I did my yoga, and then I left to get the kids from school, as it is their early release day. They get out at noon on Fridays, so I have a choice. I can grocery shop and stay on that end of town, or I can come home and work out, and then sprint right back over there.
Today, I chose the yoga.
Anyway, without further ado, I give you:
Hedybean's Acorn Squash Soup.
Mise en place:
1 roasted acorn squash
20 ounces chicken stock
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 tbsp garlic powder
1 tbsp TJ's curry powder
3 tbsp salted butter. I like Kerrygold.
3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (Optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Recommended tools:
Dutch oven sized stock pot.
Good, sharp vegetable knife/cutting board. (Hey, I don't know your kitchen. May as well recommend erthang.)
A blender that can handle hot soup, or an immersion blender.
Grill pan, for cooking chicken.
Method:
Roast your acorn squash at 375 for about 30-40 minutes, depending on your oven. (I say this because my oven runs very hot. I really set mine for 350, but it reads... a scant 25 degrees higher.)
Salt and pepper, place chicken on grill pan.
Sweat and lightly toast your diced onion in about 2 tablespoons of salted butter. Once they are a lovely light brown, and the butter has browned (Homer Simpson is drooling off in the distance somewhere...) add your chicken stock.
Stir until simmering but not boiling and add your roasted squash, seasonings, and remaining butter. Use your blender of choice to blend until smooth.
Cut cooked chicken breasts into cubes, and add to your bowls of soup. (Yes, of course, you can cook the chicken ahead of time, or use rotisserie chicken. Just be sure it's going into the bowls hot. I'm sure it will also work well!)
Enjoy!
Serves 6 normal people.
Serves... about 4 ravenous raccoon girls.
Monday, October 19, 2015
All Night Long...
I... sometimes have strange recollections tied to music that make no sense to anyone but me. I am guessing that's true for just about everyone, because that's just sort of how minds work. In this case, it was a Lionel Richie song, which I hadn't thought about in many, many, many years.
Many. So many.
No, I was never a fan, but my dad was. This could have partially been why I was never a fan. Some of the things he liked, I had to question. Lionel was no exception. All told, a reasonable ten year old can only deal with so much "Can't Slow Down", before she starts to pace around the room, ready to throw things. But if we were home, I could at least leave the house, and either swim, or look for rattlesnakes in the hills behind my house. Remember those days, when kids under the age of 15 could actually go do things without their parents?
I do.
Music with my dad was always a trip. He had a wall of nothing but stereo equipment.
A huge wall.
No, really. A huge wall, that was basically an homage to pressed, magnetic, and eventually lazer media. He basically started collecting around 1970, and never stopped. He also never threw anything out. I have no idea how he still had bottles of record cleaner and one of those felted brush implements that you had to run along the vinyl just so, and not cross any of the tracks; all the way into at least 1997, but he did. And he still used it all. He even had an enormous mixing board with wooden panels on each side. He never really divorced himself from broadcasting, or at least playing around with all the things related to such work... well... until he did, but that was a completely different story, and one I won't bore you with now.
He would make these mixed tapes that would start out on vinyl, then Teac reel to reel, and eventually end up in cassette form, for the car. At least he didn't have to worry about losing his music, I guess.
Yes, you read that right. My dad liked his music in triplicate.
And people wonder why I'm such a goddamned freak.
Anyway, someone mentioned "All Night Long", today. I... never really liked that song, but it does remind me of a certain time when my family lived in a spot where we would have to drive past a mortuary every day, as we exited the freeway. I hated that place, once I knew what it was. Gave me the creeps. It would haunt my dreams, night after night. For months. I became obsessed enough that I had to learn all about the process of morgue corpse, to... embalmed corpse. I think I spent about half a year on this. I wish I were exaggerating here. I'm not.
Did you know they stuff things up your butt when you die? I did at age 10. Oddly, this comforted me, as I realized at least my ass wouldn't leak anything into my casket for all eternity.
There was also a disturbing pool of some sort of suspicious liquid in the back of the building. It could be seen, just as you got onto the freeway exit. I was sure it was meant for pure evil, and... you know, not at all a source of recreation for the family who owned the mortuary and lived upstairs from it. I could not actually see the pool, but I could see the reflections of the aforementioned suspicious liquid dance on the side of the building, as it moved. I once asked my dad why that was there, and he told me that it was where they dumped all of the blood... while Lionel Richie sang about partying all night long in the street.
I guess I cared enough about Lionel to think this: "Be careful, Lionel."
I got curious and looked at the mortuary on Google Maps. It is still there, but the pool has been filled in. No more dumping of the bloods. Ah, well.
-H
Many. So many.
No, I was never a fan, but my dad was. This could have partially been why I was never a fan. Some of the things he liked, I had to question. Lionel was no exception. All told, a reasonable ten year old can only deal with so much "Can't Slow Down", before she starts to pace around the room, ready to throw things. But if we were home, I could at least leave the house, and either swim, or look for rattlesnakes in the hills behind my house. Remember those days, when kids under the age of 15 could actually go do things without their parents?
I do.
Music with my dad was always a trip. He had a wall of nothing but stereo equipment.
A huge wall.
No, really. A huge wall, that was basically an homage to pressed, magnetic, and eventually lazer media. He basically started collecting around 1970, and never stopped. He also never threw anything out. I have no idea how he still had bottles of record cleaner and one of those felted brush implements that you had to run along the vinyl just so, and not cross any of the tracks; all the way into at least 1997, but he did. And he still used it all. He even had an enormous mixing board with wooden panels on each side. He never really divorced himself from broadcasting, or at least playing around with all the things related to such work... well... until he did, but that was a completely different story, and one I won't bore you with now.
He would make these mixed tapes that would start out on vinyl, then Teac reel to reel, and eventually end up in cassette form, for the car. At least he didn't have to worry about losing his music, I guess.
Yes, you read that right. My dad liked his music in triplicate.
And people wonder why I'm such a goddamned freak.
Anyway, someone mentioned "All Night Long", today. I... never really liked that song, but it does remind me of a certain time when my family lived in a spot where we would have to drive past a mortuary every day, as we exited the freeway. I hated that place, once I knew what it was. Gave me the creeps. It would haunt my dreams, night after night. For months. I became obsessed enough that I had to learn all about the process of morgue corpse, to... embalmed corpse. I think I spent about half a year on this. I wish I were exaggerating here. I'm not.
Did you know they stuff things up your butt when you die? I did at age 10. Oddly, this comforted me, as I realized at least my ass wouldn't leak anything into my casket for all eternity.
There was also a disturbing pool of some sort of suspicious liquid in the back of the building. It could be seen, just as you got onto the freeway exit. I was sure it was meant for pure evil, and... you know, not at all a source of recreation for the family who owned the mortuary and lived upstairs from it. I could not actually see the pool, but I could see the reflections of the aforementioned suspicious liquid dance on the side of the building, as it moved. I once asked my dad why that was there, and he told me that it was where they dumped all of the blood... while Lionel Richie sang about partying all night long in the street.
I guess I cared enough about Lionel to think this: "Be careful, Lionel."
I got curious and looked at the mortuary on Google Maps. It is still there, but the pool has been filled in. No more dumping of the bloods. Ah, well.
-H
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Everybody said it was a shame, 'cause her mama was a workin' on a chain gang...
This is actually a recipe post, and it's not about Poke Sallit. But I did make some salad with pork, and it was pretty damn good, if you like spicy and tangy things. It's... not really southern, either, but the song still ran through my head while I was making it, because pork was involved, which, yes, I know is not poke. This doesn't make any sense! Well? Guess what? It doesn't have to make sense, because I just don't care if it does. It's just... what happened, OK?? Did I mention I'm basically a Porketarian? Anyway, just... whatever. I'm going to share that recipe now.
Ingredients:
3 decent sized thick-cut pork chops.
Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
4 big fat sexy limes
2 teaspoons granulated garlic
2 teaspoons cumin powder
1/2 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 heart of romaine
4-5 serrano chiles
1 avocado
1 yellow onion, halved, then thinly sliced
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pork chops in a baking dish with pats of butter underneath. Salt with big, crunchy flakes of sea salt, and grind fresh pepper over the tops. Bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Flip, and salt/pepper the other side. Bake again, for about the same amount of time.
Just before taking out the chops, squeeze your sexy assed limes, and then add your garlic and cumin to the juice.
Once you have removed your chops from the oven, allow them to rest for about 5-10 minutes, and then slice them into thin strips. Add this to your juice, and chill for 2-3 hours. Doing this while the meat is still hot, will make for tangier strips, but you can also add the lime juice to cold chops, and they will still be good. You can probably also marinate the meat overnight in this juice, and grill the chops. If you do this, though, be sure to discard your lime juice once you cook the chops, and make a bit more of this fine mixture to go over them when they are finished cooking.
At the time you are ready for your salad, dice your avocado, and slice your onion, cilantro, and chiles. Add the last three ingredients to your chilled pork strips, and toss. If you are serving small children, leave the chiles to the side. Let that sit for a few minutes, while you chop your romaine heart. Serve over the romaine, with avocado on top.
Serves 4-5.
Ingredients:
3 decent sized thick-cut pork chops.
Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
4 big fat sexy limes
2 teaspoons granulated garlic
2 teaspoons cumin powder
1/2 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 heart of romaine
4-5 serrano chiles
1 avocado
1 yellow onion, halved, then thinly sliced
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pork chops in a baking dish with pats of butter underneath. Salt with big, crunchy flakes of sea salt, and grind fresh pepper over the tops. Bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Flip, and salt/pepper the other side. Bake again, for about the same amount of time.
Just before taking out the chops, squeeze your sexy assed limes, and then add your garlic and cumin to the juice.
Once you have removed your chops from the oven, allow them to rest for about 5-10 minutes, and then slice them into thin strips. Add this to your juice, and chill for 2-3 hours. Doing this while the meat is still hot, will make for tangier strips, but you can also add the lime juice to cold chops, and they will still be good. You can probably also marinate the meat overnight in this juice, and grill the chops. If you do this, though, be sure to discard your lime juice once you cook the chops, and make a bit more of this fine mixture to go over them when they are finished cooking.
At the time you are ready for your salad, dice your avocado, and slice your onion, cilantro, and chiles. Add the last three ingredients to your chilled pork strips, and toss. If you are serving small children, leave the chiles to the side. Let that sit for a few minutes, while you chop your romaine heart. Serve over the romaine, with avocado on top.
Serves 4-5.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
One size does not fit all.
Last night, as I was flossing, I got stuck. Horribly stuck. Try as I might, I could not get the floss to come back out from between my molars. I sawed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, tugging in a gentle upward motion, until I broke the damn floss.
Twice.
It would go in, but it would not come back out! I had no idea what to do, because it was bedtime, I was exhausted, had already removed my bra, and didn't want to go to the damn store, just for better floss that wouldn't do this.
I started freaking out at this point, because the third time, was NOT a charm. The minute gap between my molars was filling up with floss that had meant well, but kept dying on the rocks, before what should have been a safe return. Yeah... no such luck.
At this point, I noticed that not only was the gap full, it was also starting to push on all of my other teeth. I had the worst vision of all of my periodontal bones shifting slightly to the right, and jumping ship, in the night, AND I WOULD DIE BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO CHOKE TO DEATH ON THEM!
Man overboard!!! Or... man aspirated! Either way, AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
I ran into the bedroom, crying at Mr. Hed, who goes: "Dude, calm down. We may have to go to the store, but we'll get it figured out. Do you want one of my plastic flossers from the basement?"
I looked down at my fingers that looked like they had been sawed in half, all the way around, at this point, because the floss had made that much of a dent in them. "Uh, yes, please?"
He runs downstairs, and I frantically look through the drawers of my vanity, because sometimes I stash odds and ends from dental visits in the bottom right drawer, for those times in-between boxes of floss. I also keep floss in my purse, because you just never know when you are going to be out and about and have to deal with something annoying between your teeth.
And even with all of this, I forget that I have any of it, in the moment, because that moment is nothing but SHEER PANIC, DOOM, AND ALL OF MY TEETH ARE GOING TO JUMP OUT OF MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS?
I may have a compulsion that I forget I have, when I need to have it. I suppose I might look into that, someday. Some part of that is worth examining, 'non? Who can tell?
Anyway, I did manage to find a small box of glide floss in my drawer. I felt a little bad about this, but before Mr. Hed could return from the basement, I had the situation completely resolved. But well? I felt the need to ask, anyway, because it never hurts to have backup in case of a dental hygiene emergency: "Did you find one?"
"Yeah. Here."
"Oh, OK. Well, I don't need it now, but you know, just in case, we'll have one up here, in case some real shit goes down."
Because, you never know. One minute, you could be flossing happily, and humming to yourself, and the next, you could be waking up the neighbourhood.
-H
Twice.
It would go in, but it would not come back out! I had no idea what to do, because it was bedtime, I was exhausted, had already removed my bra, and didn't want to go to the damn store, just for better floss that wouldn't do this.
I started freaking out at this point, because the third time, was NOT a charm. The minute gap between my molars was filling up with floss that had meant well, but kept dying on the rocks, before what should have been a safe return. Yeah... no such luck.
At this point, I noticed that not only was the gap full, it was also starting to push on all of my other teeth. I had the worst vision of all of my periodontal bones shifting slightly to the right, and jumping ship, in the night, AND I WOULD DIE BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO CHOKE TO DEATH ON THEM!
Man overboard!!! Or... man aspirated! Either way, AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
I ran into the bedroom, crying at Mr. Hed, who goes: "Dude, calm down. We may have to go to the store, but we'll get it figured out. Do you want one of my plastic flossers from the basement?"
I looked down at my fingers that looked like they had been sawed in half, all the way around, at this point, because the floss had made that much of a dent in them. "Uh, yes, please?"
He runs downstairs, and I frantically look through the drawers of my vanity, because sometimes I stash odds and ends from dental visits in the bottom right drawer, for those times in-between boxes of floss. I also keep floss in my purse, because you just never know when you are going to be out and about and have to deal with something annoying between your teeth.
And even with all of this, I forget that I have any of it, in the moment, because that moment is nothing but SHEER PANIC, DOOM, AND ALL OF MY TEETH ARE GOING TO JUMP OUT OF MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS?
I may have a compulsion that I forget I have, when I need to have it. I suppose I might look into that, someday. Some part of that is worth examining, 'non? Who can tell?
Anyway, I did manage to find a small box of glide floss in my drawer. I felt a little bad about this, but before Mr. Hed could return from the basement, I had the situation completely resolved. But well? I felt the need to ask, anyway, because it never hurts to have backup in case of a dental hygiene emergency: "Did you find one?"
"Yeah. Here."
"Oh, OK. Well, I don't need it now, but you know, just in case, we'll have one up here, in case some real shit goes down."
Because, you never know. One minute, you could be flossing happily, and humming to yourself, and the next, you could be waking up the neighbourhood.
-H
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Oh soup... don't go changin'...
I like you soup. Just the way you are.
So, I made this soup tonight. Got the idea from the internets, but the recipes I found, seemed a bit boring, so I livened it up a bit.
It's got cauliflower in it, so if you aren't a fan, this is probably where you can stop reading.
There had been talk recently of cauliflower/tahini soup. I was intrigued. I've used tahini in the past, but usually for more traditional foods, like Baba Ganoush, and Hummus. In a soup? Not so much, but I figured it would be good. Just cauliflower, stock, onions, and tahini sounded pretty great, to me. Sounded... well? Nice. And easy.
And I'd like to do that for you. But you see? I never, ever do nuthin' nice. And easy.
And this soup? No exception.
All right, I'll get to the recipe now.
You will need:
Stock pot.
Immersion blender, or blender tolerant of heat. A vitamix would probably also work fine.
Decent vegetable knife/cutting board
Roasting pan
Ingredients:
2 tbsps butter
1 tbsp butter for sauteeing.
1 head cauliflower, cut into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan
1 pint of your favourite stock. I used pork, but you could also use beef, lamb, chicken, or vegetable.
1 onion, diced.
1 cup tahini
1 can coconut milk
3-4 lemons, juiced; zest of one lemon.
1 tablespoon Vadouvan curry powder
1 bunch cilantro, chopped.
Method:
Preheat oven to 350.
Melt butter. Chop cauliflower into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan. Drizzle butter over the tops of the cauliflower, and roast in oven for about 20-30 minutes. I like the tops to be brown, but not burned.
Once the cauliflower has come out of the oven, dice your onion, and sautee until caramelized, but not crispy. Add stock, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Add the rest of the ingredients, except the cauliflower and cilantro. Stir and simmer, another 3-5 minutes. Be sure, when you are doing this, that you do it over a relatively low, to medium heat. You don't want the coconut milk to curdle, because once that happens? There's no coming back from that. Trust me. It's very sad, when it happens. You will cry. Or you may throw things, depending on what kind of day you've had.
Remove from stove, and add cauliflower. Blend.
Add chopped cilantro, and blend, again; enough to make the soup colourful, but not enough to bruise the cilantro. Be sure you chop it well enough that it doesn't get tangled in your immersion blender. That's not really all that sexy.
Serve, and prepare to be dazzled.
-H
So, I made this soup tonight. Got the idea from the internets, but the recipes I found, seemed a bit boring, so I livened it up a bit.
It's got cauliflower in it, so if you aren't a fan, this is probably where you can stop reading.
There had been talk recently of cauliflower/tahini soup. I was intrigued. I've used tahini in the past, but usually for more traditional foods, like Baba Ganoush, and Hummus. In a soup? Not so much, but I figured it would be good. Just cauliflower, stock, onions, and tahini sounded pretty great, to me. Sounded... well? Nice. And easy.
And I'd like to do that for you. But you see? I never, ever do nuthin' nice. And easy.
And this soup? No exception.
All right, I'll get to the recipe now.
You will need:
Stock pot.
Immersion blender, or blender tolerant of heat. A vitamix would probably also work fine.
Decent vegetable knife/cutting board
Roasting pan
Ingredients:
2 tbsps butter
1 tbsp butter for sauteeing.
1 head cauliflower, cut into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan
1 pint of your favourite stock. I used pork, but you could also use beef, lamb, chicken, or vegetable.
1 onion, diced.
1 cup tahini
1 can coconut milk
3-4 lemons, juiced; zest of one lemon.
1 tablespoon Vadouvan curry powder
1 bunch cilantro, chopped.
Method:
Preheat oven to 350.
Melt butter. Chop cauliflower into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan. Drizzle butter over the tops of the cauliflower, and roast in oven for about 20-30 minutes. I like the tops to be brown, but not burned.
Once the cauliflower has come out of the oven, dice your onion, and sautee until caramelized, but not crispy. Add stock, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Add the rest of the ingredients, except the cauliflower and cilantro. Stir and simmer, another 3-5 minutes. Be sure, when you are doing this, that you do it over a relatively low, to medium heat. You don't want the coconut milk to curdle, because once that happens? There's no coming back from that. Trust me. It's very sad, when it happens. You will cry. Or you may throw things, depending on what kind of day you've had.
Remove from stove, and add cauliflower. Blend.
Add chopped cilantro, and blend, again; enough to make the soup colourful, but not enough to bruise the cilantro. Be sure you chop it well enough that it doesn't get tangled in your immersion blender. That's not really all that sexy.
Serve, and prepare to be dazzled.
-H
Thursday, October 10, 2013
My little commentary on social media, and why I will be cutting back.
Why is it so important to be happy every day of the world? I have been examining my life lately, and while most of it is great, I am one of the pathetic masses that seems to have gotten sucked into social media, to a fault. I have such a love/hate dichotomy with it, really. I love feeling connected to my peers, but I hate the comparison and envy play that goes with it.
I know this is definitely more the rule than the exception, and hear plenty of supporting evidence when I talk to other people who seem to be experiencing the same bizarre phenomenon. I get so bitter when I hear about people getting together without me, or spending money on outings, shows, and date nights constantly, or buying the latest, greatest things money can buy. I find all of it very irritating, and yet, I can't stop reading about it!
I will admit it is an addiction. It is one of those addictive behaviours that many think serves them, but in reality just sort of erodes their well-being. A friend pointed out yesterday that she read an article about how the happiest cities also seem to have the highest rates of suicide.
Why? Comparison.
It is evil. It truly is. Seeing what the "haves" are able to do, when you are stuck at home, and can barely afford the gas to go about your daily life; let alone that extra trip across town just to hang out with people? It's really fucking depressing; in and of itself. We all have different circumstances. It's true. I should be grateful for what I have. I have plenty, really. But when comparison is in play? That goes right out the window.
I think, for me, it is time to figure out how to make a life involving less social media, and more actual socialization.
Maybe I need to focus on only using social media as a means of promoting art and let the rest of it go. It is going to be tricky, because I have allowed it to be my main source of connection for way too long, but it is a false prophet, for sure. It is not an accurate depiction of anyone's life. Most don't even see their lives for what they really are, when they are that glued to a screen, and tuned into everyone else; an "everyone else" that they may not even know that well, or may have never even met in person.
And good fucking Christ! Some of the people you meet in that way are TERRIBLE real life communicators! They don't do face-to-face well, and prefer facebook as a means of communicating and connection. They even post there constantly while hanging out together, about things only the people sitting right there understand; barely looking up from their phones at times, and joking away on their walls with one another.
WHY??? No. Really. WHY???
Do they understand how annoying that is to anyone else who might be tuned in at that time? It does not make them look more attractive, or intelligent, sought after, or anything. It just makes them look like people who can't seem to function any other way, or that they have to prove that they do actually get off of their asses and see people face to face... sort of. Or, they are just showing off. Whatever it is, it's obnoxious.
I am not referring to photos of events, or fun little happenings, per-se. I am, however, referring to the little inside jokes that only the people sitting across from one another, understand. I, along with quite a few people I know, see it as sort of a neener-neener approach to alienation, and honestly? Yeah, it works.
And online communication can be frustrating, as well. People are often terse, short, rude, and sometimes even openly hostile, because there is no immediate consequence. There is no one sitting there with them, ready to slap them in the face. It's safer. You can take on any affect that you think might suit you, because you see it working for someone else. Yeah... no. Honestly? It probably isn't working as well as you think it is for that person. And if you are doing it, bear in mind that sadly, the person you are writing to, is still a human being, regardless of what you might be looking at. You see words and a screen. You think you are being brilliant, witty, and smart, but there is no way to actually read the tone, or mood of the person you are supposedly communicating with. You aren't actually connecting at all, and you may very well be hurting someone pretty deeply with your careless communication style.
Furthering that, I have noticed people who will say that they are straight shooters, and tell it like it is. That's fine. Do that, but for fuck's sake, figure out a way to do it so you don't sound like an asshole. Find words that tell the truth without digging in and causing pain. Not everyone is in a place where they can receive that sort of thing well. You can certainly do that without being terse. If you disagree, you should probably examine your intentions, because chances are? You won't be heard if you choose to be a terse asshole. In that case? You are busy serving yourself, rather than your audience. What I am referring to, is called non-violent communication. Look into it. Know your audience. Stop alienating people.
As for actual effects on my own well-being, besides all of this; I have noticed is that my own brain gets so foggy, and distracted, distractable, and then irritable when I spend too much time reading social media. I can't really imagine it being that different for others, and yet, I know some people who are online... all the live long day! Scrolling through the feeds, I often skip something if it looks like it's too long. Sometimes my eyes stop focusing altogether. What am I even doing then? I almost find it to be the antithesis of stimulating. I really do feel stupider, and also find it harder to cope with every day situations because I feel like I know too much about people I honestly barely know. And dear reader: some of those things? They frighten me!
Yes. False intimacy. It works both ways. We find out all sorts of interesting tidbits about people we probably wouldn't even know well enough to name and say hello to on the street, and vice-versa. When we share things in this way, we are sharing with everyone, and no one... because how can we remember everyone on our friend list?
I suppose we all want connection and this is a way to feel closer without actually getting closer, because closer is scary. Because when we actually speak face to face, topics change. It feels less safe, because truthfully, there was never a proper foundation built for this level of intimacy. It is why I don't share a great amount about my life on my Facebook wall.
Want to actually get to know me? Let's go do something. Let's actually talk.
Otherwise, it just feels weird. Also, with people you don't have this foundation with? You need to be prepared for their reactions to what you have to say. It isn't something you will ever be able to predict. We all come from different spaces and backgrounds. We have all had different influences. Our perceptions are coloured by our unique experiences. So often, when someone I barely know says they are an open book, and are keeping things real; sharing VERY intimate things with everyone they have accepted a friend request from and vice versa, I feel a little scared, and worried about that person. I also often step back and wonder why they felt the need to tell me something so deeply intimate without actually knowing me, or anyone else that well. There is such a thing as too much, too soon, at times. I already know too much about my immediates!
But I suppose there are some good things about it. I know a lot of funny people. I get access to some cool things I may not have known about, otherwise. I get to share funny things I see and hear, as well as my art.
Not everyone I have gotten to know from a distance has been annoying to me. In fact, there have been cases in which I have enjoyed getting to know quite a few people in this way, and really would love to some day, be able to hang out in person, but distance keeps us apart, so it has to wait. That's all fine.
It does act as a tool for communication at times... I have gained business, I have planned fun little outings and events, I have really enjoyed a lot of it, hence the dichotomy. But... I sure can't spend my whole life on it.
And with that, I'm going to go buy some booze and hang out with a friend.
-H
I know this is definitely more the rule than the exception, and hear plenty of supporting evidence when I talk to other people who seem to be experiencing the same bizarre phenomenon. I get so bitter when I hear about people getting together without me, or spending money on outings, shows, and date nights constantly, or buying the latest, greatest things money can buy. I find all of it very irritating, and yet, I can't stop reading about it!
I will admit it is an addiction. It is one of those addictive behaviours that many think serves them, but in reality just sort of erodes their well-being. A friend pointed out yesterday that she read an article about how the happiest cities also seem to have the highest rates of suicide.
Why? Comparison.
It is evil. It truly is. Seeing what the "haves" are able to do, when you are stuck at home, and can barely afford the gas to go about your daily life; let alone that extra trip across town just to hang out with people? It's really fucking depressing; in and of itself. We all have different circumstances. It's true. I should be grateful for what I have. I have plenty, really. But when comparison is in play? That goes right out the window.
I think, for me, it is time to figure out how to make a life involving less social media, and more actual socialization.
Maybe I need to focus on only using social media as a means of promoting art and let the rest of it go. It is going to be tricky, because I have allowed it to be my main source of connection for way too long, but it is a false prophet, for sure. It is not an accurate depiction of anyone's life. Most don't even see their lives for what they really are, when they are that glued to a screen, and tuned into everyone else; an "everyone else" that they may not even know that well, or may have never even met in person.
And good fucking Christ! Some of the people you meet in that way are TERRIBLE real life communicators! They don't do face-to-face well, and prefer facebook as a means of communicating and connection. They even post there constantly while hanging out together, about things only the people sitting right there understand; barely looking up from their phones at times, and joking away on their walls with one another.
WHY??? No. Really. WHY???
Do they understand how annoying that is to anyone else who might be tuned in at that time? It does not make them look more attractive, or intelligent, sought after, or anything. It just makes them look like people who can't seem to function any other way, or that they have to prove that they do actually get off of their asses and see people face to face... sort of. Or, they are just showing off. Whatever it is, it's obnoxious.
I am not referring to photos of events, or fun little happenings, per-se. I am, however, referring to the little inside jokes that only the people sitting across from one another, understand. I, along with quite a few people I know, see it as sort of a neener-neener approach to alienation, and honestly? Yeah, it works.
And online communication can be frustrating, as well. People are often terse, short, rude, and sometimes even openly hostile, because there is no immediate consequence. There is no one sitting there with them, ready to slap them in the face. It's safer. You can take on any affect that you think might suit you, because you see it working for someone else. Yeah... no. Honestly? It probably isn't working as well as you think it is for that person. And if you are doing it, bear in mind that sadly, the person you are writing to, is still a human being, regardless of what you might be looking at. You see words and a screen. You think you are being brilliant, witty, and smart, but there is no way to actually read the tone, or mood of the person you are supposedly communicating with. You aren't actually connecting at all, and you may very well be hurting someone pretty deeply with your careless communication style.
Furthering that, I have noticed people who will say that they are straight shooters, and tell it like it is. That's fine. Do that, but for fuck's sake, figure out a way to do it so you don't sound like an asshole. Find words that tell the truth without digging in and causing pain. Not everyone is in a place where they can receive that sort of thing well. You can certainly do that without being terse. If you disagree, you should probably examine your intentions, because chances are? You won't be heard if you choose to be a terse asshole. In that case? You are busy serving yourself, rather than your audience. What I am referring to, is called non-violent communication. Look into it. Know your audience. Stop alienating people.
As for actual effects on my own well-being, besides all of this; I have noticed is that my own brain gets so foggy, and distracted, distractable, and then irritable when I spend too much time reading social media. I can't really imagine it being that different for others, and yet, I know some people who are online... all the live long day! Scrolling through the feeds, I often skip something if it looks like it's too long. Sometimes my eyes stop focusing altogether. What am I even doing then? I almost find it to be the antithesis of stimulating. I really do feel stupider, and also find it harder to cope with every day situations because I feel like I know too much about people I honestly barely know. And dear reader: some of those things? They frighten me!
Yes. False intimacy. It works both ways. We find out all sorts of interesting tidbits about people we probably wouldn't even know well enough to name and say hello to on the street, and vice-versa. When we share things in this way, we are sharing with everyone, and no one... because how can we remember everyone on our friend list?
I suppose we all want connection and this is a way to feel closer without actually getting closer, because closer is scary. Because when we actually speak face to face, topics change. It feels less safe, because truthfully, there was never a proper foundation built for this level of intimacy. It is why I don't share a great amount about my life on my Facebook wall.
Want to actually get to know me? Let's go do something. Let's actually talk.
Otherwise, it just feels weird. Also, with people you don't have this foundation with? You need to be prepared for their reactions to what you have to say. It isn't something you will ever be able to predict. We all come from different spaces and backgrounds. We have all had different influences. Our perceptions are coloured by our unique experiences. So often, when someone I barely know says they are an open book, and are keeping things real; sharing VERY intimate things with everyone they have accepted a friend request from and vice versa, I feel a little scared, and worried about that person. I also often step back and wonder why they felt the need to tell me something so deeply intimate without actually knowing me, or anyone else that well. There is such a thing as too much, too soon, at times. I already know too much about my immediates!
But I suppose there are some good things about it. I know a lot of funny people. I get access to some cool things I may not have known about, otherwise. I get to share funny things I see and hear, as well as my art.
Not everyone I have gotten to know from a distance has been annoying to me. In fact, there have been cases in which I have enjoyed getting to know quite a few people in this way, and really would love to some day, be able to hang out in person, but distance keeps us apart, so it has to wait. That's all fine.
It does act as a tool for communication at times... I have gained business, I have planned fun little outings and events, I have really enjoyed a lot of it, hence the dichotomy. But... I sure can't spend my whole life on it.
And with that, I'm going to go buy some booze and hang out with a friend.
-H
Modern Life -- a poetic tale of disconnection.
- Modern Life -
In this day and age-
People have access to what they need;
Sort of.
People connect;
Sort of.
People fall in love;
Sort of.
If you live in a city,
you really need no one.
Why?
Because you have everyone;
Sort of.
You are never stranded;
there is a bus.
You are never hungry;
there are shops and restaurants.
You have community;
Sort of.
It may be conditional, but if you do as as they say;
play their games;
don't challenge them too much;
don't question their actions, motives, or sanity;
You may have friends for life.
Be normal-
Follow-
Hope that what you are following actually serves you.
If it doesn't?
If it doesn't?
Keep following anyway,
because it's better than being alone;
because doing anything else is too scary.
Doing anything else will piss people off
Don't rock that boat.
Don't cause drama
Curl up into your shell, where it is safe.
Die there, unnoticed.
Much safer, that way.
-H
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Room dividers from hell.
When I was a kid, going to school in LA, we had a lot of bizarre building arrangements in schools. Especially suburban LA, where things basically popped up in less than five minutes to serve a brand new community. Because after all, if you build it, they will come. And they did. And we did.
One of the schools I went to, had old fashioned bungalows for the younger set. We weren't in the main building, but in something that sort of resembled a slightly more substantial food truck. The bungalows were in rows, and located across the playground from the rest of the school. My memory of these little buildings is skewed, of course, because I was small. They seemed enormous to me at the time, but if I were to go back as a 36 year old 5'7" woman, I would probably think they were right puny.
Anyway, later on, as I went to a different school, on the other side of the Santa Susana Pass, things got even more bizarre. The school consisted of three buildings; one was the office/nurse/counselor's area/cafeteria with patio. One was lower school. The other was upper school. The school buildings; beige, stucco, and flat-roofed; had enormous, thick eaves that I hated walking under. Earthquakes can kind of do things to your brain, and make you question why the hell someone would design a building that could potentially kill people, just so there was a little extra shelter on the outside.
And, let's face it. This was LA. It rained... maybe 3 days out of the year, there. Thankfully, I was only around for the Whittier Earthquake in 1987, and the eaves stayed put.
Earthquake drills unnerved me, because they were so unexpectedly rude. The principal would come onto the intercom and say: "DROP!" Not "Drop, please!" Or... "If you don't mind, we need to get under our desks now."
But, I suppose that's sort of how earthquakes roll, too. They don't give a shit, and neither did that guy.
The rule involved crawling under our desks. Because a desk is what will save you from a fallen roof. It will. They said so.
School lunch at these places, was a trip. Everything came pre-packaged in cardboard, with plastic over the top. This included salads. Sometimes, there would be a tiny apple sitting on top of the salad. I have no idea where they got those little apples, but they tasted like crunchy, mealy desiccant, meant to kill us, or at least make us not want to eat them. I only ever ate one of those apples, because I was sure they were evil . The salad was usually wilted, and the other half of the lunch was usually some gross entree that the lunch lady would heat up.
Later, when I moved to Oregon, I was taken aback by food that was actually prepared in the school cafeteria. It wasn't necessarily better, but eating from a plate with actual metal utensils, was pretty foreign, and almost novel enough to compel me to buy lunch there, rather than make myself a delicious sandwich, made of some odd Jewish delicacy that other kids would revolt at the sight of. (My dad was really into chopped liver, and the like.)
More for me!
Between the three buildings, there was a courtyard that was all lawn, and beyond that, a sidewalk, followed by hill that led to a ball field. Rolling down that hill with my friends, was always great fun. None of us cared that we would end up with burrs in our clothing from the weeds that they simply mowed with the rest of the grass.
But, back to the buildings. This is where it gets interesting. I am sure you are probably riveted by this point, right? Anyway, in these buildings; with the exception of the first, everything was separated by enormous, heavy, metal partitions, covered in a rose-tan, fabric that had a really heavy, heathered weave to it. It reminded me of chocolate milk, poured over Mini-Wheats. I don't think there were actual walls separating the rooms from the main area, and the partitions could actually be rolled, and folded together, to create one giant room, inside the confines of each building. They even had doors, and those doors were made of the same materials. When they closed, they were closed tightly with levers. It was all very space-age. The levers had black knobs on the ends of them, that made you feel like you were doing something very official when you were permitted to close them.
Well, one day, some friends and I were playing, during indoor recess. It was one of the rare days when it rained there. When it did rain? You took that shit seriously. It may not have actually rained cats and dogs, but I had seen garbage that resembled cats and dogs floating down the road when the streets would flood. Our car would always stall out, because for some reason, water would splash under the distributor cap, and then... yeah. For some reason, it had no undercarriage cover. We... didn't go out much when it rained.
Anyway, as we ran through the common area of the building, my friends entered our classroom before I did. I grabbed hold of the door jamb, as if to fling myself into the room, for added drama. Only... This did not work! Oh no!
See, they closed the door, not realizing it closed... on my hand!
And then, I saw the lever rotate. I am pretty sure my eyes rotated in every direction they would go before I screamed at the top of my lungs. I am not a master of much. Delayed reactions? Yes. Even when reacting is probably THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO DO!
Upon receipt of my eventual vocalization, the lever went back up again, and my hand; purple, and quasi-flattened, was released.
I could not write or do much with my right hand for many weeks after this happened. My friend who made the offending maneuver felt so ashamed and awful, that she carried all of my books, and dictated for me until I could write again.
And to this day? The finger nail beds on my right hand are flatter and wider than the ones on my left.
School can be a dangerous place.
-H
One of the schools I went to, had old fashioned bungalows for the younger set. We weren't in the main building, but in something that sort of resembled a slightly more substantial food truck. The bungalows were in rows, and located across the playground from the rest of the school. My memory of these little buildings is skewed, of course, because I was small. They seemed enormous to me at the time, but if I were to go back as a 36 year old 5'7" woman, I would probably think they were right puny.
Anyway, later on, as I went to a different school, on the other side of the Santa Susana Pass, things got even more bizarre. The school consisted of three buildings; one was the office/nurse/counselor's area/cafeteria with patio. One was lower school. The other was upper school. The school buildings; beige, stucco, and flat-roofed; had enormous, thick eaves that I hated walking under. Earthquakes can kind of do things to your brain, and make you question why the hell someone would design a building that could potentially kill people, just so there was a little extra shelter on the outside.
And, let's face it. This was LA. It rained... maybe 3 days out of the year, there. Thankfully, I was only around for the Whittier Earthquake in 1987, and the eaves stayed put.
Earthquake drills unnerved me, because they were so unexpectedly rude. The principal would come onto the intercom and say: "DROP!" Not "Drop, please!" Or... "If you don't mind, we need to get under our desks now."
But, I suppose that's sort of how earthquakes roll, too. They don't give a shit, and neither did that guy.
The rule involved crawling under our desks. Because a desk is what will save you from a fallen roof. It will. They said so.
School lunch at these places, was a trip. Everything came pre-packaged in cardboard, with plastic over the top. This included salads. Sometimes, there would be a tiny apple sitting on top of the salad. I have no idea where they got those little apples, but they tasted like crunchy, mealy desiccant, meant to kill us, or at least make us not want to eat them. I only ever ate one of those apples, because I was sure they were evil . The salad was usually wilted, and the other half of the lunch was usually some gross entree that the lunch lady would heat up.
Later, when I moved to Oregon, I was taken aback by food that was actually prepared in the school cafeteria. It wasn't necessarily better, but eating from a plate with actual metal utensils, was pretty foreign, and almost novel enough to compel me to buy lunch there, rather than make myself a delicious sandwich, made of some odd Jewish delicacy that other kids would revolt at the sight of. (My dad was really into chopped liver, and the like.)
More for me!
Between the three buildings, there was a courtyard that was all lawn, and beyond that, a sidewalk, followed by hill that led to a ball field. Rolling down that hill with my friends, was always great fun. None of us cared that we would end up with burrs in our clothing from the weeds that they simply mowed with the rest of the grass.
But, back to the buildings. This is where it gets interesting. I am sure you are probably riveted by this point, right? Anyway, in these buildings; with the exception of the first, everything was separated by enormous, heavy, metal partitions, covered in a rose-tan, fabric that had a really heavy, heathered weave to it. It reminded me of chocolate milk, poured over Mini-Wheats. I don't think there were actual walls separating the rooms from the main area, and the partitions could actually be rolled, and folded together, to create one giant room, inside the confines of each building. They even had doors, and those doors were made of the same materials. When they closed, they were closed tightly with levers. It was all very space-age. The levers had black knobs on the ends of them, that made you feel like you were doing something very official when you were permitted to close them.
Well, one day, some friends and I were playing, during indoor recess. It was one of the rare days when it rained there. When it did rain? You took that shit seriously. It may not have actually rained cats and dogs, but I had seen garbage that resembled cats and dogs floating down the road when the streets would flood. Our car would always stall out, because for some reason, water would splash under the distributor cap, and then... yeah. For some reason, it had no undercarriage cover. We... didn't go out much when it rained.
Anyway, as we ran through the common area of the building, my friends entered our classroom before I did. I grabbed hold of the door jamb, as if to fling myself into the room, for added drama. Only... This did not work! Oh no!
See, they closed the door, not realizing it closed... on my hand!
And then, I saw the lever rotate. I am pretty sure my eyes rotated in every direction they would go before I screamed at the top of my lungs. I am not a master of much. Delayed reactions? Yes. Even when reacting is probably THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO DO!
Upon receipt of my eventual vocalization, the lever went back up again, and my hand; purple, and quasi-flattened, was released.
I could not write or do much with my right hand for many weeks after this happened. My friend who made the offending maneuver felt so ashamed and awful, that she carried all of my books, and dictated for me until I could write again.
And to this day? The finger nail beds on my right hand are flatter and wider than the ones on my left.
School can be a dangerous place.
-H
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The hardest work of all.
I have been pondering a certain, common thought that many people seem to be expressing, lately. Not sure why, but I have heard it said that: people who pursue their passion, and get lucky; perhaps even famous doing what they love, have it really easy. Well? I am here to tell you... that's pretty mythical. Belief in oneself must come from somewhere. Maybe it is easier for those who had formative encouragement, and support. Hard to say. I am unfamiliar.
I had a brief encounter with this particular belief in oneself phenomenon, once upon a time. It made me want to see more of it.
But you know? Believing in yourself? It's really hard. Especially when you are the one who must keep it up. You can't really expect everyone to be there for you one hundred, or even twenty percent of the time. The mind can be very powerful, for sure. It really can make, or break you, and your attitude really does make all the difference. And you know? This applies to everyone, except the very lucky few who don't have to think about what it is to make a life for themselves. Although, I have to wonder if they actually are lucky. That seems terribly boring to me.
At any rate, life isn't fair. It never has been, never will be.
It is. That is all.
So, you see someone dancing, singing, acting, writing, or selling their art successfully? Believe me. Whatever led to where they are now, was not an easy road. They probably sunk their entire spirit into what they are now doing, and it came at great cost. They may have had to give up toxic family members, or friends who did not support them, and made them doubt themselves. But! They did not give up on their dream, even when people told them it wouldn't work. They didn't confine themselves to a cubicle after resigning themselves to the fact that... for them, desk work was the only way to make a living.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. Unless, there is.
That said, successful artists may have taken really shitty jobs to make ends meet, while pursuing what it was that they were passionate about, and they either hated it, or later, realized that this was not just putting food on their table, but part of the work they would need to do, to appreciate the rest of it, and support their higher goals.
Often, when I think of what I am trying to do in my own life, that line from "Climb Every Mountain", comes to mind: "A dream that will need all the love you can give; every day of your life, for as long as you live!"
Yeah, try some of that. It's not easy. It isn't.
Sometimes, we need to take breaks, especially when we are faced with challenges that require our attention, and won't let us move forward, until we do. When that happens, it is important to recognize the necessary detours, act accordingly, and learn from them. Eventually, those little lessons may very well enrich our experience when we go back to what we are passionate about; that much more!
Conversely, sometimes we get nice little boosts, or coincidental things that just happen to be in the right place at the right time, and we use them, because we recognize that they are opportunities, and not something to waste. Life will help out once in a while. Just start noticing when it does, because there really are times when it does.
I am currently implementing a detour in my own life to deal with some important life transitions. It may be difficult to focus on my original dream, yes, but for now, it is a necessary step for me, and I am learning that this is OK.
Success is never a straight line, people. It just isn't. I may be working in a position that I consider to not really be that stimulating, but guess what? It's not a forever thing, and I know this. I have not resigned myself to thinking that I have no other skills. I recognize that while perhaps they are not easily accessed presently because of this other work I need to do in my life, surrounding these transitions; I have plenty of skills, and they are fucking glorious, and awesome. I may not always be able to generate income using those particular skills. I may need to fall back on something else from time to time, but I still believe that some day, I'll arrive, and when I do? It will be worth everything else I have had to work hard at, along the way.
But believing this 100% of the time? It may be the hardest work, of all.
-H
I had a brief encounter with this particular belief in oneself phenomenon, once upon a time. It made me want to see more of it.
But you know? Believing in yourself? It's really hard. Especially when you are the one who must keep it up. You can't really expect everyone to be there for you one hundred, or even twenty percent of the time. The mind can be very powerful, for sure. It really can make, or break you, and your attitude really does make all the difference. And you know? This applies to everyone, except the very lucky few who don't have to think about what it is to make a life for themselves. Although, I have to wonder if they actually are lucky. That seems terribly boring to me.
At any rate, life isn't fair. It never has been, never will be.
It is. That is all.
So, you see someone dancing, singing, acting, writing, or selling their art successfully? Believe me. Whatever led to where they are now, was not an easy road. They probably sunk their entire spirit into what they are now doing, and it came at great cost. They may have had to give up toxic family members, or friends who did not support them, and made them doubt themselves. But! They did not give up on their dream, even when people told them it wouldn't work. They didn't confine themselves to a cubicle after resigning themselves to the fact that... for them, desk work was the only way to make a living.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. Unless, there is.
That said, successful artists may have taken really shitty jobs to make ends meet, while pursuing what it was that they were passionate about, and they either hated it, or later, realized that this was not just putting food on their table, but part of the work they would need to do, to appreciate the rest of it, and support their higher goals.
Often, when I think of what I am trying to do in my own life, that line from "Climb Every Mountain", comes to mind: "A dream that will need all the love you can give; every day of your life, for as long as you live!"
Yeah, try some of that. It's not easy. It isn't.
Sometimes, we need to take breaks, especially when we are faced with challenges that require our attention, and won't let us move forward, until we do. When that happens, it is important to recognize the necessary detours, act accordingly, and learn from them. Eventually, those little lessons may very well enrich our experience when we go back to what we are passionate about; that much more!
Conversely, sometimes we get nice little boosts, or coincidental things that just happen to be in the right place at the right time, and we use them, because we recognize that they are opportunities, and not something to waste. Life will help out once in a while. Just start noticing when it does, because there really are times when it does.
I am currently implementing a detour in my own life to deal with some important life transitions. It may be difficult to focus on my original dream, yes, but for now, it is a necessary step for me, and I am learning that this is OK.
Success is never a straight line, people. It just isn't. I may be working in a position that I consider to not really be that stimulating, but guess what? It's not a forever thing, and I know this. I have not resigned myself to thinking that I have no other skills. I recognize that while perhaps they are not easily accessed presently because of this other work I need to do in my life, surrounding these transitions; I have plenty of skills, and they are fucking glorious, and awesome. I may not always be able to generate income using those particular skills. I may need to fall back on something else from time to time, but I still believe that some day, I'll arrive, and when I do? It will be worth everything else I have had to work hard at, along the way.
But believing this 100% of the time? It may be the hardest work, of all.
-H
Thursday, February 14, 2013
On self care...
There are cobwebs on this here blog. That's OK I guess. I haven't felt inspired to do much of anything for quite some time. I even hung up my primary business, and decided to do mindless work that required very little creativity, for a while. I'm still doing that now, but may go back to the other thing soon. I want to be ready, because there is nothing worse than trying to create magic when you can barely see what's in front of you in the moment. That's no good, and frankly, it's not fair to my clients, who I believe deserve the absolute best I can possibly give.
In order to get there, I am learning, for the first time in my life; to take care of myself, rather than abuse myself, and try to squeeze molten gold out of the soles of my shoes. This is tough. Apparently, (and this is really hard to admit,) emotional abuse was something that was part of my normal, for most of my life. So now, I need to figure out how to make that abnormal, and not allow it to be something I do to myself even after I find people who don't treat me badly.
I will say that I have found the people. I have lots of good friends who tell me to knock it off when I am hard on myself, and it's nice to feel validated, and not judged, or yelled at for things I have no control over.
Some say that they don't know what normal looks like, or what healthy looks like. This is true for me, even though I see it with other people. Sure, I have seen family relationships that have been really healthy. In the past, I have resented those people who have had good relationships with their families. It made me bitter, and turn even further inward onto myself, saying things like: "It's not something you deserve, because you are you, and she is she."
Not true, I'm finding.
But for 36 years, I sure believed it, and probably still do, somewhere in the back of my head. But today, I'm having a good day, so I'm choosing to believe, otherwise.
I still don't feel like I am in a place in which I can share (with the world,) what happened, but I do feel like I can share this with a few close friends, and that has been very helpful for me. In the past, even as recently as yesterday, I have allowed these negative thoughts to percolate inside of me, without letting them out. After some talk about this, I'm realizing that these thoughts? They aren't something I can do that with, because they do this thing, where they cycle around. It seems that with each new thought cycle, they pick up more internal vitriol, and just get worse, until I am in a very low, dark place. It can be very hard to come out of that.
So, why am I choosing to share this now?
Because. I am discovering that I am really not alone in this. Many of us seem to have internal struggles that are ridiculously awful to endure, and work through. I am also discovering that there are many of us who are sometimes triggered by something that can just knock us out of control. It sucks, and it can be extremely difficult to regain that control. And sometimes? I feel like I am just flat-out, bat shit crazy.
Of course, now I think I know who I can call upon when it gets really bad. I will refer to these people as my own personal Insane Clown Posse. I am so glad I have them, and I am so glad that they usually throw me a rope to help me out of the mental chaos pit of despair.
Also? Self care. Sometimes, that means taking a day off to just be, or to talk with a good friend. Sometimes, it means doing something slightly extravagant. It can look like a lot of different things, and it's nice to brainstorm even that with friends, to figure out what might actually help me the most. Self-validation is also a good thing. Realizing that you have been through hell, and that you really should cut yourself some slack, can be pretty powerful.
So, while this may not be something that is set up for me just yet, because it all takes time, it's something that I'm working toward. Hopefully, soon, I will be a much happier person, who can go back to doing what she loves.
-H
In order to get there, I am learning, for the first time in my life; to take care of myself, rather than abuse myself, and try to squeeze molten gold out of the soles of my shoes. This is tough. Apparently, (and this is really hard to admit,) emotional abuse was something that was part of my normal, for most of my life. So now, I need to figure out how to make that abnormal, and not allow it to be something I do to myself even after I find people who don't treat me badly.
I will say that I have found the people. I have lots of good friends who tell me to knock it off when I am hard on myself, and it's nice to feel validated, and not judged, or yelled at for things I have no control over.
Some say that they don't know what normal looks like, or what healthy looks like. This is true for me, even though I see it with other people. Sure, I have seen family relationships that have been really healthy. In the past, I have resented those people who have had good relationships with their families. It made me bitter, and turn even further inward onto myself, saying things like: "It's not something you deserve, because you are you, and she is she."
Not true, I'm finding.
But for 36 years, I sure believed it, and probably still do, somewhere in the back of my head. But today, I'm having a good day, so I'm choosing to believe, otherwise.
I still don't feel like I am in a place in which I can share (with the world,) what happened, but I do feel like I can share this with a few close friends, and that has been very helpful for me. In the past, even as recently as yesterday, I have allowed these negative thoughts to percolate inside of me, without letting them out. After some talk about this, I'm realizing that these thoughts? They aren't something I can do that with, because they do this thing, where they cycle around. It seems that with each new thought cycle, they pick up more internal vitriol, and just get worse, until I am in a very low, dark place. It can be very hard to come out of that.
So, why am I choosing to share this now?
Because. I am discovering that I am really not alone in this. Many of us seem to have internal struggles that are ridiculously awful to endure, and work through. I am also discovering that there are many of us who are sometimes triggered by something that can just knock us out of control. It sucks, and it can be extremely difficult to regain that control. And sometimes? I feel like I am just flat-out, bat shit crazy.
Of course, now I think I know who I can call upon when it gets really bad. I will refer to these people as my own personal Insane Clown Posse. I am so glad I have them, and I am so glad that they usually throw me a rope to help me out of the mental chaos pit of despair.
Also? Self care. Sometimes, that means taking a day off to just be, or to talk with a good friend. Sometimes, it means doing something slightly extravagant. It can look like a lot of different things, and it's nice to brainstorm even that with friends, to figure out what might actually help me the most. Self-validation is also a good thing. Realizing that you have been through hell, and that you really should cut yourself some slack, can be pretty powerful.
So, while this may not be something that is set up for me just yet, because it all takes time, it's something that I'm working toward. Hopefully, soon, I will be a much happier person, who can go back to doing what she loves.
-H
Friday, November 9, 2012
Days off. I fail at Nablopomo...
...but if that's all I fail at? I'm doing pretty good. I decided to dress fancy today, because it has been days since I have been able to do that. House cleaning does pay pretty well, but let's face it. It's not very glamourous. And well? I need glamourous. Sorry, but I do.
Today has been mostly about leisure. Lunch out with the kids, a parent teacher conference thrown in for good measure, followed by dinner with friends in a bit.
The little one is doing well in school, and really blossoming. She loves it, and has been making all sorts of progress just in the few months that she has been there. This is great, and I am very happy to see that she is so happy. I don't fantasize about having any sort of control over the lives of these people I brought into the world, but I sure am enjoying watching them find the things that make them happiest.
She asked me the other day whether she should be an opera singer, or an artist. I told her she had plenty of time to decide, and well? Why not be both?
Her teacher told her she already is an artist. So cool. I love this school so much! I love the way that the people working there honestly care about these children, and not some agenda, or rigid curriculum, to the exclusion of all else. I had the latter experience, growing up in LA. I don't miss it, and am glad to have found something better for my children. School is challenging enough without all the added pressure of fitting into one particular mould, and being told you don't measure up, if you don't.
This may no longer be the case, but as an undiagnosed dyslexic in the 1980's, I encountered those very words via a couple of my teachers, and it made things very difficult for me, because I had trouble believing I could do much. It made life pretty hard for me for a good, long time, actually. So, finding a school that actually believes in meeting a child where they are and working with them accordingly? WIN!
It is not looking like Ru has dyslexia. She seems to be plugging right along, within the range of whatever normal is. (I hate that term!) But as I have mentioned before, my older daughter, Lily, has Mixed Expressive/Receptive disorder, and had extreme difficulty learning to read for quite a few years. Well? She is now in 4th grade, and is reading and writing this year. I am so proud of her! And so are her teachers! Success is amazing to watch, especially when it's something that is just as important to the child, as it is to those around her, who care about her. That is HUGE.
Growing up, I didn't have quite the same issues, but thanks to the way I was handled by the public school system, I had no confidence, and therefore no drive to succeed, until it really mattered, and well? That meant community college to start off with.
So, to see her get excited about learning new things, and taking on new challenges? One of the most satisfying moments of my life!
I may have failed at Nablopomo, but I must have at least done a couple things right.
-H
Today has been mostly about leisure. Lunch out with the kids, a parent teacher conference thrown in for good measure, followed by dinner with friends in a bit.
The little one is doing well in school, and really blossoming. She loves it, and has been making all sorts of progress just in the few months that she has been there. This is great, and I am very happy to see that she is so happy. I don't fantasize about having any sort of control over the lives of these people I brought into the world, but I sure am enjoying watching them find the things that make them happiest.
She asked me the other day whether she should be an opera singer, or an artist. I told her she had plenty of time to decide, and well? Why not be both?
Her teacher told her she already is an artist. So cool. I love this school so much! I love the way that the people working there honestly care about these children, and not some agenda, or rigid curriculum, to the exclusion of all else. I had the latter experience, growing up in LA. I don't miss it, and am glad to have found something better for my children. School is challenging enough without all the added pressure of fitting into one particular mould, and being told you don't measure up, if you don't.
This may no longer be the case, but as an undiagnosed dyslexic in the 1980's, I encountered those very words via a couple of my teachers, and it made things very difficult for me, because I had trouble believing I could do much. It made life pretty hard for me for a good, long time, actually. So, finding a school that actually believes in meeting a child where they are and working with them accordingly? WIN!
It is not looking like Ru has dyslexia. She seems to be plugging right along, within the range of whatever normal is. (I hate that term!) But as I have mentioned before, my older daughter, Lily, has Mixed Expressive/Receptive disorder, and had extreme difficulty learning to read for quite a few years. Well? She is now in 4th grade, and is reading and writing this year. I am so proud of her! And so are her teachers! Success is amazing to watch, especially when it's something that is just as important to the child, as it is to those around her, who care about her. That is HUGE.
Growing up, I didn't have quite the same issues, but thanks to the way I was handled by the public school system, I had no confidence, and therefore no drive to succeed, until it really mattered, and well? That meant community college to start off with.
So, to see her get excited about learning new things, and taking on new challenges? One of the most satisfying moments of my life!
I may have failed at Nablopomo, but I must have at least done a couple things right.
-H
Monday, November 5, 2012
Gratitude...
I have some things to be grateful for, for sure. One of them, is the fact that we, as humans, are allowed to set boundaries for our own comfort, and well-being. Sometimes, this means doing things others may not necessarily like, but may be necessary for ourselves, and our sanity.
I have had to say no to a few things lately, and it was extremely difficult, but necessary. There are just not enough hours in the day for everything I want to do, so I have been needing to prioritize a ton, and stick to the core things, so that I don't burn out.
Wow. Saying: "no."
It feels good, and awful, at the same time.
But as a good friend pointed out to me in the past week; it is not my job to save everyone from the onerous tasks that I may, under different circumstances, really excel at. It is my job to take care of myself, because I do have other people in my life who depend on me, and need me to be there, instead of 50 different places, at once. And even as I type this, I usually do have about 50 things going at once. I do thrive on multitasking, but at some point, adding that extra ball is tough for any good juggler.
I also need to remember that I don't have local family support, as others may have. The mister and I rarely get a night out together, and when we do, we have to pay a sitter. I sometimes find myself getting pretty jealous of my friends who talk often about their kid-free weekends. We get a few a year, and sometimes, they end up being filled with things we don't really want to do, like house maintenance, or other chores.
So, free time? For me? It's really at a premium. I need to remember that it is OK for me to say no to things when I am feeling like I am about to burn out. I am extremely grateful that I have friends who understand this. I guess that is part of growing up, 'non?
-H
I have had to say no to a few things lately, and it was extremely difficult, but necessary. There are just not enough hours in the day for everything I want to do, so I have been needing to prioritize a ton, and stick to the core things, so that I don't burn out.
Wow. Saying: "no."
It feels good, and awful, at the same time.
But as a good friend pointed out to me in the past week; it is not my job to save everyone from the onerous tasks that I may, under different circumstances, really excel at. It is my job to take care of myself, because I do have other people in my life who depend on me, and need me to be there, instead of 50 different places, at once. And even as I type this, I usually do have about 50 things going at once. I do thrive on multitasking, but at some point, adding that extra ball is tough for any good juggler.
I also need to remember that I don't have local family support, as others may have. The mister and I rarely get a night out together, and when we do, we have to pay a sitter. I sometimes find myself getting pretty jealous of my friends who talk often about their kid-free weekends. We get a few a year, and sometimes, they end up being filled with things we don't really want to do, like house maintenance, or other chores.
So, free time? For me? It's really at a premium. I need to remember that it is OK for me to say no to things when I am feeling like I am about to burn out. I am extremely grateful that I have friends who understand this. I guess that is part of growing up, 'non?
-H
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The New Guy
I don't know why it took me so long to do this, but I finally upgraded my PC. My old one is now 7 years old. A while back, I upgraded my camera from a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XT, (The Baby, which I actually do still use on occasion,) to a Canon EOS 5D Mark II. (The Beast.) To my chagrin, the Mark III has already been released. I sometimes really hate technology. It is getting damn near impossible to keep up. But whatever. I have a kickass camera, and finally, the system to handle the thing.
Before, I was using my old PC for this, and it was kind of infuriating, and sad. I really wanted to play with the Beast, a lot. But alas, it was just really hard to process the photos with such limited RAM. The lack of ram kept getting worse, until it was actually really bad, and not just for photos. It got to where I could barely even run facebook, or other programs with it, because they were all taking up so much space. Forget about running multiple programs at once. Lightroom constantly crashed, even if I had nothing else running. I found myself taking days to process a shoot, when it used to take me just a couple hours, at most.
See, I'm one of those photogs who just believes in taking good photos to begin with. I don't fool around with these programs a whole lot, other than to maybe make something slightly brighter here and there, and to resize them so I can show them on the web. Other than that, I am not a big shopper.
So for a long time, I figured I would just cripple the thing through until I absolutely had to replace it.
And then my daughter dropped it on its power cord while it was still plugged in.
It... stopped charging.
I thought that the power cord was the problem, so I replaced that.
Nope.
It was the port. I was telling a friend about this the other day, and he laughed, saying: "She broke your computer's vagina!"
True. She did. I once had a broken vagina, and lived, and now things are fine again. I don't recommend pushing a baby with a nuchal hand out in 11 minutes, but what can you do? Computers on the other hand? They are not technically women. They just can't handle that shit.
Digressing now, because I didn't mean for this to turn into a post about my lady parts.
Anyway, the only way to charge the thing, was to hold the power cord upright in just the right position. I propped it up on a pack of playing cards and a CD, hoping for the best. It did OK for the last two weeks I really needed it to work, but I knew it was definitely time at that point.
And finally... it was time. Time to get the new guy. The new guy is pretty slick, I must say. I think I'll be sharing lots more photos now! Hooray!
-H
Before, I was using my old PC for this, and it was kind of infuriating, and sad. I really wanted to play with the Beast, a lot. But alas, it was just really hard to process the photos with such limited RAM. The lack of ram kept getting worse, until it was actually really bad, and not just for photos. It got to where I could barely even run facebook, or other programs with it, because they were all taking up so much space. Forget about running multiple programs at once. Lightroom constantly crashed, even if I had nothing else running. I found myself taking days to process a shoot, when it used to take me just a couple hours, at most.
See, I'm one of those photogs who just believes in taking good photos to begin with. I don't fool around with these programs a whole lot, other than to maybe make something slightly brighter here and there, and to resize them so I can show them on the web. Other than that, I am not a big shopper.
So for a long time, I figured I would just cripple the thing through until I absolutely had to replace it.
And then my daughter dropped it on its power cord while it was still plugged in.
It... stopped charging.
I thought that the power cord was the problem, so I replaced that.
Nope.
It was the port. I was telling a friend about this the other day, and he laughed, saying: "She broke your computer's vagina!"
True. She did. I once had a broken vagina, and lived, and now things are fine again. I don't recommend pushing a baby with a nuchal hand out in 11 minutes, but what can you do? Computers on the other hand? They are not technically women. They just can't handle that shit.
Digressing now, because I didn't mean for this to turn into a post about my lady parts.
Anyway, the only way to charge the thing, was to hold the power cord upright in just the right position. I propped it up on a pack of playing cards and a CD, hoping for the best. It did OK for the last two weeks I really needed it to work, but I knew it was definitely time at that point.
And finally... it was time. Time to get the new guy. The new guy is pretty slick, I must say. I think I'll be sharing lots more photos now! Hooray!
-H
Saturday, November 3, 2012
A ribald story of nut intrigue.
I was pretty hung over and exhausted yesterday. If you read my previous post, it was just a long, long, week, and by the end of yesterday, I couldn't see the top or bottom of my world. It was just TV snow. And TV? Let's face it. I haven't watched that in a VERY long time. What's TV? I don't even know that bitch. I missed going out with the ladies, and had to prioritize a couple of other things out, because I was just... done. Like Ron Jeremy after one of his long weeks. Done. And I looked about as good, too.
So yeah. I did the last of what I said I would do. I baked a few dozen cookies for a school potluck... half were vegan, half made with butter, all gluten-free, because I love my peeps. I do. I really only felt obligated by my own mind, and gratitude, because they are just awesome people. So... I do my best to give back even in small ways, when I can. There were none left when we left the potluck, so I must have at least done something right. But, sadly, I was on auto-pilot, and didn't think about where I was going. A potluck. And yeah, you are supposed to bring your own plates/utensils.
Oops.
So then, I was tired, hungry, and in it for the long haul, because it was a movie potluck.
It was still fun, but I had to cut out early, because I was... yeah, I was.
I get home, and the mister is still not there. I had some organizing to do in the basement, so I was down there when he came in, and he found me pretty fast. He usually looks for me when he walks in the door, no matter what part of the house I am in. I could be upstairs taking a massive shit, and he'd still come in and talk to me about his day.
That's love, right there. That's what that is.
He hadn't eaten yet either, and was three sheets to the wind, because it was his night to go out and have a little fun. He's a little bummed, because his buddy just got hired on at a different outfit, across town. So, yeah. If he can find time to get out with that guy, he should take it.
Earlier, I had gone to the store. I did NOT feel like cooking when I got home, so I made myself a salad and threw some packaged sliced turkey on top. He rummaged and looked for nuts.
He found some, but not the ones he so desired. (Spicy Thai Cashews from Trader Joe's.) I did buy these nuts earlier that day, but I put them in a different place than usual, because I got tired of him eating the whole bag before I could get to them, and I also like these nuts.
I also completely forgot that I did this. Did I mention I was running on auto-pilot yesterday?
So, in my haze, I decided to have a little fun with him.
"Hey, did you buy cashews?"
"Uh... I think I forgot."
"Damn. I could really go for some cashews right about now."
"Sorry, it appears to be just past 9, and the store has closed. There are nuts for you, in the store down the street... locked away... in the cold, and dark, and you can't go in there right now."
"Bah-hahah!"
"I did buy myself a candy bar from there, and I'm not feeling it. Have at. It's on top of the fridge."
So, he ate that. Then, this morning, I realized I did buy those nuts.
Oopsie.
Ah, well, what's a little delay in the ways of pleasure? We're still alive. And now, we have nuts!
-H
So yeah. I did the last of what I said I would do. I baked a few dozen cookies for a school potluck... half were vegan, half made with butter, all gluten-free, because I love my peeps. I do. I really only felt obligated by my own mind, and gratitude, because they are just awesome people. So... I do my best to give back even in small ways, when I can. There were none left when we left the potluck, so I must have at least done something right. But, sadly, I was on auto-pilot, and didn't think about where I was going. A potluck. And yeah, you are supposed to bring your own plates/utensils.
Oops.
So then, I was tired, hungry, and in it for the long haul, because it was a movie potluck.
It was still fun, but I had to cut out early, because I was... yeah, I was.
I get home, and the mister is still not there. I had some organizing to do in the basement, so I was down there when he came in, and he found me pretty fast. He usually looks for me when he walks in the door, no matter what part of the house I am in. I could be upstairs taking a massive shit, and he'd still come in and talk to me about his day.
That's love, right there. That's what that is.
He hadn't eaten yet either, and was three sheets to the wind, because it was his night to go out and have a little fun. He's a little bummed, because his buddy just got hired on at a different outfit, across town. So, yeah. If he can find time to get out with that guy, he should take it.
Earlier, I had gone to the store. I did NOT feel like cooking when I got home, so I made myself a salad and threw some packaged sliced turkey on top. He rummaged and looked for nuts.
He found some, but not the ones he so desired. (Spicy Thai Cashews from Trader Joe's.) I did buy these nuts earlier that day, but I put them in a different place than usual, because I got tired of him eating the whole bag before I could get to them, and I also like these nuts.
I also completely forgot that I did this. Did I mention I was running on auto-pilot yesterday?
So, in my haze, I decided to have a little fun with him.
"Hey, did you buy cashews?"
"Uh... I think I forgot."
"Damn. I could really go for some cashews right about now."
"Sorry, it appears to be just past 9, and the store has closed. There are nuts for you, in the store down the street... locked away... in the cold, and dark, and you can't go in there right now."
"Bah-hahah!"
"I did buy myself a candy bar from there, and I'm not feeling it. Have at. It's on top of the fridge."
So, he ate that. Then, this morning, I realized I did buy those nuts.
Oopsie.
Ah, well, what's a little delay in the ways of pleasure? We're still alive. And now, we have nuts!
-H
Friday, November 2, 2012
Wow, it's been a while.
Lots of stuff has happened since my last post here. Lots. I am now currently running two businesses.
I don't look down.
That's my secret.
Things are going well there. I actually hand off work to a couple of friends when I can't handle the load on my own, so that's nice. The one that is doing really well, is my house cleaning business. I decided to give that a whirl when I wanted to get more serious about paying off my photography studio.
Because... waiting to turn a profit from that? Yeah... no. It takes a LOT of time to get up and running with photography. I have several thousands of dollars tied up in equipment now, so I must be serious!
Well, yes, I am. In fact, while I was investing all the time, planning, and money into that little venture, (Including the purchase of a 3500 sq ft, commercially zoned house, which does include a studio space with a secure, separate entry,) I was singing "Climb Every Mountain" a lot. Especially this line: "A dream that will need all the love you can give, every day of your life... for as long as you live!"
It does. And I do.
But I also have mondo responsibilities; raising two children, running the aforementioned haunted mansion, dealing with other things like investment properties, and the maintenance and upkeep involved there, involvement in our school, and needing to be in about 8 places at once, etc., etc., ad nauseum. I have been doing this for a couple of years now, and all things considered, the photography portion of my life, the DREAM, portion of my life, has, admittedly, been pretty slow.
But! I will not give up. It will happen. I have faith that it will. Why? Because I have been doing it for this long, and I still have the drive and determination to make it happen. This is the first school year in which I have had this much time to dedicate to my craft, and get things going, so you can bet that I am going to make the most of it.
I am also learning to prioritize my time. In the beginning of the house cleaning venture, I just started by taking any job I could get. The response was amazing, and I was extremely flattered, so I did my best to make time for everyone. Well, I learned that I am not superhuman. I got overwhelmed very quickly. I figured out that I need a few days a week to dedicate to the photography end of things, or it will never happen. That said, I do have a few regulars I clean for, 4 days a week. That leaves three for photos, and maintaining my studio.
This past week has been a bit crazy making. I admit to having a meltdown yesterday, but I am better today. The crazy doesn't usually last too long before I find those boot straps again, and figure out what I need to do with them.
But, for fun, I'll give you a little rundown. This is kind of what my week was like: Get up while it's still dark out, actually cook breakfast, because we are healthy like that, drive the mister to work, swing by the school, and drop off kids, go to work, go to the gym, pick up kids, come home, help with homework, cook a reasonably nutritious dinner that said kids will actually eat, go over to the rental, paint, somehow figure out how to get the kids ready for Halloween, come home, crash. Lather, rinse, repeat. All goddamn week.
Until last night, when I did manage to squeeze in a beautiful, gifted hairdo from a dear friend, and cocktails. Today? All about leisure, and baking some cookies for a class potluck/movie night we will attend later on, and possibly, a night out with the ladies, if I am still awake by the time that rolls around. Sounds pretty good to me.
-H
I don't look down.
That's my secret.
Things are going well there. I actually hand off work to a couple of friends when I can't handle the load on my own, so that's nice. The one that is doing really well, is my house cleaning business. I decided to give that a whirl when I wanted to get more serious about paying off my photography studio.
Because... waiting to turn a profit from that? Yeah... no. It takes a LOT of time to get up and running with photography. I have several thousands of dollars tied up in equipment now, so I must be serious!
Well, yes, I am. In fact, while I was investing all the time, planning, and money into that little venture, (Including the purchase of a 3500 sq ft, commercially zoned house, which does include a studio space with a secure, separate entry,) I was singing "Climb Every Mountain" a lot. Especially this line: "A dream that will need all the love you can give, every day of your life... for as long as you live!"
It does. And I do.
But I also have mondo responsibilities; raising two children, running the aforementioned haunted mansion, dealing with other things like investment properties, and the maintenance and upkeep involved there, involvement in our school, and needing to be in about 8 places at once, etc., etc., ad nauseum. I have been doing this for a couple of years now, and all things considered, the photography portion of my life, the DREAM, portion of my life, has, admittedly, been pretty slow.
But! I will not give up. It will happen. I have faith that it will. Why? Because I have been doing it for this long, and I still have the drive and determination to make it happen. This is the first school year in which I have had this much time to dedicate to my craft, and get things going, so you can bet that I am going to make the most of it.
I am also learning to prioritize my time. In the beginning of the house cleaning venture, I just started by taking any job I could get. The response was amazing, and I was extremely flattered, so I did my best to make time for everyone. Well, I learned that I am not superhuman. I got overwhelmed very quickly. I figured out that I need a few days a week to dedicate to the photography end of things, or it will never happen. That said, I do have a few regulars I clean for, 4 days a week. That leaves three for photos, and maintaining my studio.
This past week has been a bit crazy making. I admit to having a meltdown yesterday, but I am better today. The crazy doesn't usually last too long before I find those boot straps again, and figure out what I need to do with them.
But, for fun, I'll give you a little rundown. This is kind of what my week was like: Get up while it's still dark out, actually cook breakfast, because we are healthy like that, drive the mister to work, swing by the school, and drop off kids, go to work, go to the gym, pick up kids, come home, help with homework, cook a reasonably nutritious dinner that said kids will actually eat, go over to the rental, paint, somehow figure out how to get the kids ready for Halloween, come home, crash. Lather, rinse, repeat. All goddamn week.
Until last night, when I did manage to squeeze in a beautiful, gifted hairdo from a dear friend, and cocktails. Today? All about leisure, and baking some cookies for a class potluck/movie night we will attend later on, and possibly, a night out with the ladies, if I am still awake by the time that rolls around. Sounds pretty good to me.
-H
Monday, July 16, 2012
On a walkabout...
I decided to stay home and have a day of freedom this past weekend, while everyone went off and did their thing. I was really glad I did that. I needed it badly. I realized that day, that it had been a VERY long time since I had any time alone, and I needed some quiet. This is unusual for me. Usually, quiet drives me crazy, and sends me looking for walls to scale, but well? It had been weeks since I'd had more than a couple hours to do whatever I wanted.
Hell. Who am I kidding? Months.
So, everyone left, and I got in the shower. I did have plans with friends, which was my original reason for not going with my family that day, but they fell through at the last minute. I was secretly glad, because I was feeling a bit forlorn, and couldn't really decide if I would be the best company or not. I hate it when I'm like that, because I get one of two results: 1. I figure out how to pull it together, and am my usual animated self, plus a bit more, because positive energy can feed off of negative energy if you pull the right tools out at the right time. Or, 2. I just can't get it together, and I'm very, very quiet, just trying to hold it together enough not to cry in front of people and embarrass the hell out of myself.
I have had one hell of a traumatic year, truth be told. I am still not comfortable going into detail, but it's been pretty hard. I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, however, and that is the important part there.
Since those plans fell through, I just decided to go with it. And despite this, it took me about half an hour to find just the right outfit. I guess I really do dress for myself. It is... what it is.
But once I did, I decided to just go wherever my feet would take me. So, I opened up my Peggy Lee collection on my iPod, threw it in my purse, attached headphones, and took off.
A date with myself. Sounded pretty damn good.
I am so glad to be living in the city again, where I can actually take advantage of things without having to drive to them. My original plan was to just walk to the Division/Clinton district, get a coffee, read my book, check out a few shops, and walk home. But I reached that area, and I felt like I wasn't done walking. It just felt really good to be out in the warm air, talking in the sights, scents from all the food carts, seasonal flora, sounds, people, and their colourful summer fashions. Portland can be dreary about 7 months out of the year. But that other five? It's pretty fantastic.
I love walking through the neighbourhoods of inner Southeast Portland. They are beautiful, with their mature trees, and lovely old houses. I feel so lucky to be back here!
So, I kept going.
I reached Hawthorne, with my sights set on The Hazel Room. That place is great, because it's in a fabulous old house. Very charming little place with great cocktails, coffee options, light fare, etc. It is also next door to a little shop I had been wanting to check out.
But when I got to Hawthorne? I didn't feel like I was ready to stop walking, so I kept on.
My walk took me a few more blocks to Belmont. I decided, finally, to turn the direction of my feet off of Southeast Thirtieth, and I headed east a few blocks. It took me a minute to decide where to settle down for a bit, but I ended up at The Pied Cow.
Did I want Hookah, or wine? Hm. Wine. Yes...
So, I sat outside in their lovely garden area, pulled out my book, pulled back a glass of Pinot Grigio, and just enjoyed being where I was for a few minutes.
Until I was done with that, at which point, I pulled out my phone, and began texting people I thought might be free that evening.
Did I mention I'm kind of an extravert? Yes. Hello. My name is Hedro. I don't do alone. What was I thinking? Ha!
Anyway, the walk had been just what I needed, and I felt ready to rejoin the human race. So my friend Candice joined me, and we had a fantastic visit!
Sometimes, all you need is a nice long walk and a friend to make it all better. I am still in a great mood from that walk. Why did I ever stop doing that?
-H
Hell. Who am I kidding? Months.
So, everyone left, and I got in the shower. I did have plans with friends, which was my original reason for not going with my family that day, but they fell through at the last minute. I was secretly glad, because I was feeling a bit forlorn, and couldn't really decide if I would be the best company or not. I hate it when I'm like that, because I get one of two results: 1. I figure out how to pull it together, and am my usual animated self, plus a bit more, because positive energy can feed off of negative energy if you pull the right tools out at the right time. Or, 2. I just can't get it together, and I'm very, very quiet, just trying to hold it together enough not to cry in front of people and embarrass the hell out of myself.
I have had one hell of a traumatic year, truth be told. I am still not comfortable going into detail, but it's been pretty hard. I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, however, and that is the important part there.
Since those plans fell through, I just decided to go with it. And despite this, it took me about half an hour to find just the right outfit. I guess I really do dress for myself. It is... what it is.
But once I did, I decided to just go wherever my feet would take me. So, I opened up my Peggy Lee collection on my iPod, threw it in my purse, attached headphones, and took off.
A date with myself. Sounded pretty damn good.
I am so glad to be living in the city again, where I can actually take advantage of things without having to drive to them. My original plan was to just walk to the Division/Clinton district, get a coffee, read my book, check out a few shops, and walk home. But I reached that area, and I felt like I wasn't done walking. It just felt really good to be out in the warm air, talking in the sights, scents from all the food carts, seasonal flora, sounds, people, and their colourful summer fashions. Portland can be dreary about 7 months out of the year. But that other five? It's pretty fantastic.
I love walking through the neighbourhoods of inner Southeast Portland. They are beautiful, with their mature trees, and lovely old houses. I feel so lucky to be back here!
So, I kept going.
I reached Hawthorne, with my sights set on The Hazel Room. That place is great, because it's in a fabulous old house. Very charming little place with great cocktails, coffee options, light fare, etc. It is also next door to a little shop I had been wanting to check out.
But when I got to Hawthorne? I didn't feel like I was ready to stop walking, so I kept on.
My walk took me a few more blocks to Belmont. I decided, finally, to turn the direction of my feet off of Southeast Thirtieth, and I headed east a few blocks. It took me a minute to decide where to settle down for a bit, but I ended up at The Pied Cow.
Did I want Hookah, or wine? Hm. Wine. Yes...
So, I sat outside in their lovely garden area, pulled out my book, pulled back a glass of Pinot Grigio, and just enjoyed being where I was for a few minutes.
Until I was done with that, at which point, I pulled out my phone, and began texting people I thought might be free that evening.
Did I mention I'm kind of an extravert? Yes. Hello. My name is Hedro. I don't do alone. What was I thinking? Ha!
Anyway, the walk had been just what I needed, and I felt ready to rejoin the human race. So my friend Candice joined me, and we had a fantastic visit!
Sometimes, all you need is a nice long walk and a friend to make it all better. I am still in a great mood from that walk. Why did I ever stop doing that?
-H
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