No Pie Left Behind

The No Pie Left Behind Act of 2008 should ensure that each piece of pie gets our full attention. I and my colleagues in the Pieous Party take our roles very seriously, and believe in the equality of all pies, no matter the color of their fillings or the shape of their crusts. My friends, do you hear the slice of Pumpkin calling for equanimity from the fridge, or the slices of Pecan struggling amidst sheets of foil on the countertops? Well, I do. And I intend to do something about it. Right now! This very minute! 

I ask you to join with me to fight against this stain on our society. We must work to lift up these disadvantaged pies by setting measurable goals for pie consumption each week. If we work with this end in mind, we can be rest assured that neither little Cherry Crumble from Nebraska, nor Strawberry Rhubarb from Idaho, nor Southern Pecan from Texas will find themselves falling further behind their more fortunate peers. We advocate the equal distribution of whipped cream and coffee to give all pies the help they need to acheive consumption.

Tonight, my fellow citizens, I urge you to not only ask the question "Is it Pie time?" but to make the commitment to Pieousness by responding with vigor that "Yes! It is high time for Pie time!"

Theorems of Kitteh Affection

After a long weekend of living in our closet to avoid close encounters with the houseguests, the kittehs were still wary on Monday as they patrolled about the house. As I sat in the loft writing, Sebastian cautiously crept up the stairs, every whisker at attention and ears pricked for any sound from enemy territory. Finally he was satisfied that I was the only inhabitant of the upstairs and came over to curl up with me in my chair, recovering some small portion of the cuddling losses incurred over the weekend while I was distracted with guests. 

A few moments later, I saw Belle's ears, eyes, and then nose gradually appear as she also ascended the stairs in Full Reconnaissance mode. She stalked the perimeter with wide eyes to see if any humans under the age of ten would suddenly come bursting out to love her against her will. After the all clear, she also made herself at home on whatever lap real estate not already monopolized by Sebastian. This is unusual--they very rarely share territory, so I must think that this is in response to the weekend of houseguests.

I've found that the interest rates on repayment of kitteh cuddling can be very steep, depending on various factors. No one really knows how they calculate how much you owe them, but I'm working out a theorem and am planning a round table discussion very soon. 

For the average weekend we are out of town, we have to include in our calculations not only lost hours of direct affection, but also lost hours of nearness (i.e. bedtime or watching television time). The rate of return on this affection loan of sorts is complicated by a factor of intensity (ranging from lower-intensity cuddling over a longer period under normal circumstances all the way to excessive neediness and obnoxious affection particularly prevalent when the human is trying to read a book or trying to type). 

There is also a positive correllation between the number of houseguests over a weekend and the intensity of expected  repayment following said weekend.  Furthermore, an exponent may be derived directly from the number of houseguests under the age of ten.

So far the equation is somewhat messy, so my theorem is best described visually:

A Note on Verbal Stickers

I think most of us use common phrases to express our delight to our friends when they have good things to share about their lives. We say "Oh, that's wonderful news!" or "Good for you!" and maybe even "Awesome!" but some of us go even further, into the world of verbal stickers. Just like back in First Grade when we rocked the penmanship world with our perfectly-formed Q's, and we got that yellow shooting star sticker as a reward. 

Denise telling me "That's Super!" just now was maybe the shiniest verbal sticker I have ever received. 

The Inquisitive Chicken Atrocious Song Lyric Challenge

Dear Gentle Reader:

Occasionally we come across lyrics that inspire disbelief, consternation, and even nausea. I invite you to submit lyrics that you feel are worse than the two samplings I have for your inspiration today.

Runner-Up: This song was so popular that I had the opportunity to hear it many times on the radio. I remember that first awakening when I started listening to the words instead of just the music and singing. I thought I would never find a more terrible example of rhyme over reason. Sheesh. These words make absolutely no logical sense, but you get the distinct impression that they are somehow supposed to. Disheartening. Very disheartening. Without further ado:

"You're Beautiful"

by James Blount

My life is brilliant 

My life is brilliant, my love is pure 
I saw an angel of that I'm sure 
She smiled at me on the subway 
She was with another man 
But I won't lose no sleep on that 
'Cause I've got a plan 

You're beautiful, you're beautiful 
You're beautiful, it's true 
I saw your face in a crowded place 
And I don't know what to do 
'Cause I'll never be with you 

Yes, she caught my eye 
As we walked on by 
She could see from my face that 
I was flying high 
And I don't think that I'll see her again 
But we shared a moment that will last 'till the end 

You're beautiful, you're beautiful 
You're beautiful, it's true 
I saw your face in a crowded place 
And I don't know what to do 
'Cause I'll never be with you 

La la la la la la la la la 

You're beautiful you're beautiful 
You're beautiful, it's true 
There must be an angel with a smile on her face 
When she thought up that I should be with you 
But it's time to face the truth 
I will never be with you 

Please do not hurl on your keyboard--run quickly to the restroom. Quickly!

Winner: Well, imagine my utter surprise that "You're Beautiful" was edged out by a little emo ditty that I've heard on Pandora for a while without understanding the lyrics. It needs no further introduction.

"Like A Rose on the Grave of Love"

by Xandria

Come like the dusk
Like a rose on the grave of love
You are my lust
Like a rose on the grave of love

I curse the day I first saw you
Like a rose that is born to bloom
Don't look at me the way you do
Like the roses, they fear the gloom

Your thorns, they kissed my blood

Your beauty heals, your beauty kills
And who would know better than I do?
Pretend you love me!

Indeed, reality seems far
When a rose is in love with you
Slaves of our hearts, that's what we are
We loved and died where roses grew

They watched us silently

A rose is free, a rose is wild
And who would know better than I do?
Roses are not made for love

Stunning. Simply Stunning. I'm always on guard when I hear the word "rose" in a song--it makes me listen with a kind of lyrical trepidation. I was particularly moved by the completely nonsensical stanza set off by the "bloom" and "gloom" rhyme. Brilliantly, brilliantly bad. "Like the roses, they fear the gloom." Beat THAT! Ha!

My challenge to you: 

Find something that puts these winners to shame. In fact,

I challenge you

To be true,

Else make me blue

Or want some stew.

I challenge you;

Just a few!

Old-- even new.

Maybe Motley Crue?

It's up to you. 

It's up to you.

UPDATE: 

Although I don't think the "Piranha" lyrics can exceed the horror of "Like a Rose on the Grave of Love," since one is meant to be taken seriously and the other surely not, they are very entertaining, especially in the context of speed metal drumming. Please enjoy the musical stylings of an unknown band singing a song about a piranha. Thanks to Eric for accidentally finding this little gem, and Kami for hooking us up. Indeed--who needs coffee in the morning when you could listen to this? 

Disclaimer: I cannot find who wrote or performed this song, and am unaware of any copyright infringement. If someone can tell me who credit should be given to, I will gladly do so, and if the proven owners of this song wish, I will unhappily remove the link from this site.

Seven Years & Two Hermits

Instead of giving each other cards and expensive gifts, David and I have most enjoyed going on trips to celebrate our anniversary. One year it was a Caribbean cruise, last year we had a wonderful trip to Boise. This year we opted for something closer to home, but wanted a destination distinct enough from our normal landscape to feel like a getaway. We chose to drive less than two & a half hours to stay in a rustic cabin at the peaceful Wilderness Lakefront Resort on Broken Bow Lake in Oklahoma.  Hey, it had a full kitchen, so it wasn't too rustic.

Home away from home: Cabin #4

The landscape there is indeed very different from what we might have expected: Towering trees, steep hills, a clean lake, and abundant wildlife. This was a wonderful place to celebrate our seven years of marriage by spending time enjoying a beautiful place together. 

Thanks to a local squirrel for taking our picture.

We also had a fantastic dinner at Abendigo's Restaurant in Hochatown. David had the fire roasted tomato risotto (I sampled it--was outstanding); I had the Signature Steak Filet with bleu cheese glaze, port wine sauce and garlic mashed potatoes. I could've died happy, right there, but gladly did not, as that might have cast a general pall over the weekend. And I wouldn't have gotten to go canoeing. 

Below is evidence that we actually didn't look like hermits the entire weekend. I had the camera set up on the porch and we had to do several takes with me pushing the auto-timer and sprinting in flip-flops down the steps and tearing throught the gravel in the picnic area to the bridge to "act natural" for the picture.

Yep, we've been standing here casually for like, ever.

On Sunday we first had a flat tire, which the owner of WLF was kind enough to fix for us--he's a great guy. After that we took out the resort-provided canoe on the lake for several hours with lunch in the ice chest. I was in back as the awkward rudder. David was in front as the power paddler and harasser of the awkward rudder. It was a lesson in having to work together! We figured it out eventually--mostly, without anyone going overboard or getting smacked in the head with a paddle. I love canoeing!

The Power Paddler, doing what he does.

After canoeing and a rest, we hiked in the McCurtain Co. Wilderness Area, which is where the first picture of this post was taken. It had some steep terrain, with some lovely pine forest. The scent of pine needles and the sound of the wind rushing through them is an ideal condition for peaceful wandering.

J'Non's proximity to local spiders in this photo: 6 inches or less!

A clear stream running through the trail--a good spot to wash the walking sticks.

We checked out on Monday and drove about 20 minutes to Beaver's Bend Resort Park with its trout stream, nature and hiking trails, camping, canoeing, and nature center. They even have a mini-golf course, strangely enough! We plan to go camping there in the future, but we only had time for an afternoon excursion this time. At Beaver's Bend we hiked two scenic trails and drove around to see some of the camping areas.

 

The trout stream is chilly with water coming from the bottom of the lake.

This was a little steeper than I had anticipated. Hmm. And the rocks a little pointy. Hmmm.

So, to avoid the steepest part of the trail where we had to hold onto stuff and climb up over rocks, we decided to hike along the river on our way back. This worked well to a point, but then we started ascending gradually from the river until we found ourselves in the middle of a very steep embankment with no sign of a trail at all. I think we took the mountain goat path.  It was almost a sheer drop to the river (injury guaranteed), or we could try to go up the side of the hill slowly (injury less likely) and hope not to fall like some human Plinko through the sharp rocks and trees down to the river (death, dismemberment). 

We decided we'd better not fall on the way up. So, we took it slow and held onto any available trees as we tried to find good footholds. It's one of those scenarios where you keep thinking "This is so stupid. I can't believe we are doing this," and yet on we went.

Way down yon is the river. The grade is so steep that I can't even see our starting point on the mountain goat path.

Amazingly, we made it in one piece back to the end of the trail to head home and were none the worse for our adventures except for a few stowaway chiggers. Nothing says romantic weekend quite like chigger bites. Except for maybe a roving seed tick or two. These aside, it was a perfect weekend for a couple of hermits in love!

Stealth Salad: Operation Purple Smoothie

You know where I stand on salads. Love, hate--the line can be very fine. And eating spinach on its own? There's no love here. It's a texture thing, the way it feels between the ol' molars. It's a little squeaky. Anyway, at my sister Jennifer's recommendation, I am getting my squeakier greens disguised with berry and banana goodness in a "green" smoothie (but berries make it a much more palatable purple).

Here's where I got my directions:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXr8-jru1KE

I just tried a similar version, in my standard, non-fancy blender, with the following basic recipe:

2 C. Cold Water
5 Collard Leaves (I used the ones growing in my mini-garden in the backyard)
Organic Baby Spinach (fill blender up to top with this)

Whirl on "Puree" setting until all leaves are annihilated. Color will be an alarming shade of green--the exact color of your fresh lawn clippings, in fact.

Add:
1 Banana,
1 C. Yogurt (optional)
2 C. Frozen Berries (I used the tri-berry mix from Costco)
More Spinach--IF you dare!
1/2 tsp. powdered Stevia (optional)

Whirl again until all objects are obliterated into a deep purple.

Other ingredients to add to your smoothies:
Kale
Apples, cored and sliced

I tried it, preparing my tastebuds for the worst, and was shocked to my very toes that it didn't taste at all like berry-flavored lawn. I sampled some more to make sure I wasn't crazy, wrote this down immediately because I was so excited, and slurped down the rest of it.

Another exciting way to clear my dietary conscience. Those brownies sitting on my counter will soon be a mere memory.

Brownies? What? I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.

(Shifty eyes while discreetly raking crumbs from keyboard).

Biking in DC

We went to visit David's sister Debbie and her husband Greg in Washington DC a couple of weeks ago. One morning we had an opportunity to bike some of the usual tourist destinations near the Mall, and in the afternoon biked the beautiful Mt. Vernon trailway with some friends.

Ridin' on the Metro, with Debbie's Schwinn cruiser.

Thanks for the hydration packs, Momma Sue!

In the afternoon I had my first real bike wreck (anything without blood really doesn't count). About halfway through the ride, just a half mile from the turnaround point at Mount Vernon, I let my front tire get off the asphalt ledge into gravel. Of course overcorrection ensued on the wet path, and my left elbow, hip, and knee pitched in to help me out with the forward momentum problem I seemed to be having as I crashed.

Thanks, Knee!

Thanks, Elbow!

Little accidents like this really make you appreciate your skin layers protecting your nerves from the pain of water and air. I hope there was at least spectacular flailing and artistic color for the four people riding right behind me (slowest person typically sets pace). The only thing better than a bike wreck is for there to be lots of witnesses. Awesome.

Audience Members: Justin, Alisha, Ryan
(Who, incidentally, could all probably crush me like a bug with one of their calf muscles. Fortunately though, all very nice people).

The Baring Of One's Soul: (On Writing)

Writing can be a very public activity. Even the act of writing something down privately means that you realize that someday someone else might read it. I could be flattened by a truck tomorrow, and then some unfortunate soul would have to go through my things: my letters, my writing folders, my prayer notebooks. As a writer with a chronic editing complex, I have always at some level been aware of this and write my first drafts for the possibility of an audience other than the one originally intended.

The written word is a powerful thing, telling unauthorized tales between the lines, and has even more value when we have something to lose. In this very blog, I write more humor posts than anything, but I have very little to lose in doing so. Oh, sure, I may lose some dignity in my self-deprecation, but it shouldn't cause any permanent damage. But to write about the deep things which give me pause or pangs? Offering these up for public consumption is cause for greater anxiety and is much more difficult. Greater depth in subject dictates greater agony in revision as well. Conveying the nuance becomes more important as a writer becomes emotionally invested and desires a response in the life of someone else; the reader.

I had a great creative writing teacher, Dr. Randy Prus, who used to tell us that sentimentality was like a dog returning to its own vomit. I love this simile because it helps me stem the tide of pathos somewhat, and at the very least to keep it a little more real. There is certainly a place for sentiment, but in proportion. I don’t do syrupy.

Themes of so many works of fiction and works of life are the search for fulfillment, love, happiness. These seem to be the mirage in the distance for so many--searching everywhere to fill the void within us. Haven't we all been lost there at some point? Replacing the emptiness with whatever can make us forget for a time: food, entertainments, addictions, sarcasm, competition, consumption. Distractions. But the best times in my own life have never been related to things or objects or entertainments. They have been lit by the glow of happiness I felt when I was with those that loved me, and those whom I loved in return. They are my life.

And the writing. I've always thought it was much easier for me personally to write in the face of difficulty than in happiness. Turmoil is much easier to explore without sounding clichéd than joy (again, the sentiment). I wonder why that is? I'm saddened to think that humans relate to pain & suffering more than happiness--is it because we are accustomed to having the other shoe drop? Because we have empathy or compassion which has developed over the years as we also have hurt, have felt alone, and have cried ourselves to sleep with the pain of living?

When my heart is heavy, I think that I cannot make it relive all those hard times just for the sake of writing something meaningful. But I realize that those times are part of me. As much or more so than the good. The trials and sore heart is where the shape of my character has mostly been carved. So do they make me bitter? Do they make me sad? Do they make me strong? Do they make me judgmental? Do they make me compassionate? Yes, all. And I have to choose to overcome that which needs overcoming; to try and make sense of the imperfection that I am; to seek contentment in those aspects of my life I cannot change, while working to identify and correct the variables. All of this informs the writing which is the most difficult but most necessary to share. I’ll try to be brave enough to give you my best along the way.

Off the Wagon

I'm back from a twelve-day trip from Dallas to Kentucky, D.C., Tennessee, and back to Kentucky. I had a wonderful time, but I'm very glad to be home! I will be posting at some point on some of the adventures there, if I can squeeze some creativity from my brain. Nice visual, eh?

Comfort Food

When I'm feeling low, it directly influences what foods I want to prepare and eat. Do you feel the same? I don't head for sweets or chocolate, but instead crave those foods which were part of my childhood: My grandmother's soup with saltines, corn meal mush with butter and sweetener, and my mom's pinto beans with buttered cornbread. Whole-grain pancakes and macaroni & cheese I pretty much crave all the time, so I don't add them to this list officially. Today I'd like to introduce you to the soup.

Granny only ever made one soup that I recall, so if she said she was making soup for dinner everyone knew exactly what to expect. Thus it is so clearly associated in my memory with her. Sometimes we would make cornbread to go with it, but more often than not, we'd have saltine crackers instead, putting about five or so on each of our plates but having the open cracker sleeve handy for refills.

My grandmother was such a comfort to me for most of my life, and I can't make the soup now without thinking of her and the wonderful sensations I always experienced in sitting down to eat this meal with her and the family--the fragrance of steam rising from the bowls, the thin, hollow sound of crackers breaking into pieces, the spoons gently scraping against the sides of porcelain or stoneware, the soft whistle of air as we cooled each spoonful, and the flavor that tasted like home. The familiarity of Pat Sajak in the background and the ding of letters on the board. What a blessing! (Granny, family, and soup--not Wheel, you understand, although in general I think it a fine program).

I was such a thin little child, but I could eat at least two full bowls of this soup, and if allowed, probably a third. Where did it all go? Straight to my heart, of course, and has remained for all these years. My mom recently told me about being in the hospital after delivering one of my older brothers. The hospital food was terrible, but they wanted her to eat a certain amount every day in order to be released. She finally told them that if they would let her go home and have some of her mother's soup, she might live. They did and she did.



Granny's Soup

Basic ingredients:
1 lb. lean ground beef
1 large white onion, diced
2-3 lb. red potatoes, scrubbed and diced (amount depends on size of family and taste!)
salt and pepper to taste
water

Optional ingredients:
2 cloves fresh garlic, minced
1-2 carrot, sliced
1 can diced tomato (Rotel will make it very spicy)
1-2 c. frozen corn (or one can)
1-2 squash or zucchini, chopped
4 T. Butter
Ketchup

Directions:
1. Brown ground beef in large pot with salt, and add chopped onion when beef is about half done.
2. When beef is fully cooked, spoon off whatever grease weighs on your conscience.
3. Add diced potatoes and sliced carrots; cover with water (water line should be about 1" above ingredients).
4. Bring to a boil, lower heat to medium and cover, stirring occasionally until potatoes are beginning to soften. Add squash, corn, tomatoes, butter, salt, pepper; cover and return to a simmer.
5. Soup is ready when vegetables are soft. Adjust salt & pepper to taste. Soup will thicken over several days of reheating. Don't freeze it--the texture of the potatoes will change.
6. If you want a little punch to it and are feeling reckless, stir about two tablespoons of ketchup into the soup in your bowl. Oh yeah.
7. Share with your loved ones, with plenty of crackers between you!