Family, summer - and cake!

We celebrated Jake's 16th birthday yesterday. It seems not that long ago that Gabi and I were in Togo, getting ready to head back to the states, and Gabi got word from her brother that he and Jen were new, proud parents of a wonderful baby boy.

Now this baby boy is much taller than I am and plotting the means to buy a car with $635 and no plans of how to pay the insurance. So very sixteen.

So the whole family came together yesterday, and it was a wonderful thing. At one point I was in the house and looked out at the scene: Gabi playing lawn games with the kids, Jen, Nick, and both grandmothers sitting at the garden table laden with chips and cherries, talking like old friends. I've been thinking too much about my family of birth lately, and that moment crystalized for me just how good and precious the heart-family can be.

As dusk and mosquito-time neared, we headed indoors for cake. Ah, cake. I made, per Jake's request, German Chocolate Cake. It was named, in case you don't know, not because it has any Germanic heritage but due to the name of it's creator: an Englishman named Samuel German. In 1852, Mr. German created the cake as a showpiece for Baker's Chocolate (for more on the story, go here).

But Jake has recently returned from a five-week trip to Germany and Switzerland, and so it seemed only fitting to make this particular cake.

Yesterday was the first time I'd made German Chocolate, and it turned out lovely. I've seen (and tasted) homemade versions where the frosting was made with evaporate or sweetened condensed milk (I think that's the version on the Baker's Sweet Chocolate package). I was never too impressed. Leave it to Bon Appetit to come up with a version that lifts the bar. The frosting has a true caramel flavor that melds beautifully with the coconut and nuts (the original BA recipe called for macadamia nuts, but I used the more traditional pecans).

So, here's to heart-family, summer days and, of course, good cake. Nothing better than a real good cake to celebrate the blessings of a real good day.

*****

German Chocolate Cake

from The Bon Appetit Cookbook, edited by Barbara Fairchild, © 2006

CAKE

½ cup water

1 4-ounce package sweet baking chocolate, chopped

2 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp baking soda

¼ tsp salt

2 cups sugar

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature

4 large eggs, separated

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup buttermilk

pinch cream of tartar

FROSTING

1 ½ cups (packed) golden brown sugar

1 cup whipping cream

¼ cup whole milk

4 large egg yolks, beaten to blend

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups sweetened flaked coconut, lightly toasted

1 cup coarsely chopped pecans or macadamia nuts, lightly toasted

FOR CAKE:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter 3 9-inch-diameter cake pans with 1 ½-inch sides. Line bottoms with parchment paper. Butter parchment. Bring ½ cup water to simmer in heavy small saucepan. Remove from heat. Add chocolate and stir until melted and smooth.

Combine flour, baking soda and salt in medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat sugar and butter un large bowl until light and fluffy. Add egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add chocolate mixture and vanilla; mix until blended. Add flour mixture alternately with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour mixture and beating well after each addition. Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites and cream of tartar in large bowl until stiff but not dry. Fold whites into batter in two additions.

Divide batter equally among prepared pans. Bake cakes until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 35 minutes. Cool cakes in pans on racks 15 minutes. Turn cakes out onto racks. Remove parchment; cool completely. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and store at room temperature.)

FOR FROSTING

Combine first 5 ingredients in heavy medium saucepan and whisk until blended. Stir constantly over medium heat until mixture thickens to consistency of caramel sauce and coats spoon, about 10 minutes (do not boil). Remove from heat. Stir in coconut and pecans/macadamia nuts. Let frosting stand at room temperature until cool and spreadable, about 1 ½ hours. (Can be prepared 4 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature.)

Empty Nest Syndrome

We're smiling like happy mommas... the robins have fledged!

About a month ago a robin started nesting on the gutter just next to our porch. Since then, we've watched with baited breath as she weathered windstorms, Rosie's insistent curiosity (and our own) and finally hatched three little robins. Then the parents spent hours bringing them earthworms (we are so proud of our lush, organic yard with so much food for robins!!), until finally we knew the nest could not take too much more.

Today I came home from work to find the nest empty. I went outside and found one intrepid baby surveying the yard from the top of a garden light. I took a quick pic with my phone then ran in for the camera. When I came back out he'd moved to the keyhole garden, and then onto an iris. Love that picture!

Looking back at our Robin-journey:

May 8th: It seemed like such a crazy place to park a nest.

May 29: Momma does not like us sneaking peeks.

May 31st: They've officially outgrown the nest.

Rampant and Unrepentant Silliness

It was warm last weekend, here in Minnesota. Twenty-or-so above normal. Which means upper fifties. Warm, sunny, breezy: spring was in high gear and we responded in kind.

Rambling through town, we saw many folks out in shorts or capris, and a few uber-exuberant souls in t-shirts too. A few wore sandals but, really, the plethora of muddy puddles meant that sandals were kept to a minimum.

Admittedly, most of the people wearing shorts and capris were under 20. And we older and wiser ones could look at them and say, "Well that's just silly. It's not that warm."

No, Gabi and I did not wear shorts. We wore jeans, turtlenecks and flannel shirts, sturdy tennies. 

Yes, this is what we wore when we took our kayaks out for a drive.

There is open water, here and there, on the Sauk, Platte and Mississippi rivers. The trick is finding an open stretch between landings. The water's way too high and quick to paddle back upstream if you don't have to. But, oh, we wanted to be on the water.

Fortunately, when we went out to Cold Spring on Sunday to scope out the Sauk, we met the wife of a man who was bravely setting off from Frogtown Park for the six-mile float to the next public landing in Rockville. We jumped for muddy joy to see someone setting off, and Monday (we both took the day off) we were back with kayaks in the truck. We stopped in Rockville to leave the car so that we could shuttle ourselves.

We were smart enough to check the landing. 

An ice bar swooped out from the landing, still covering half the river. We walked a little upstream and down, where the ice had receded. We could see where a person could land, muddily, but no signs that anyone actually had landed his canoe.

In other words, somewhere along the line, the ice still covered the river thick and wide enough that our brave canoe enthusiast hadn't gotten through. We went back to the truck, looked at the map. Was the dam at the heron colony, or where the river bends back on itself at mile three, or at the gorgeous boulder garden after the ninety-degree turn at mile four?

Regardless, we wouldn't be floating down the river, not yet.

We got back on the road, me in the car and Gabi in the truck, and headed back to town. I saw her swear out loud in the cab and called on the cell phone to tell her. We laughed about being twenty feet apart and talking on the phone to each other. So we had to wave some more.

Neither of us could stand to let the day go by without a little exploring, so we stopped at Grande Depot, a fantastic shop where I94 and Highway 23 intersect. The Depot is full of gourmet treats, lovely cookware and dishes, artisan candles, handmade jewelry... you get the idea. Very fun. If you're in the neighborhood and need to find a special gift for someone, The Depot would be at the top of my list of recommendations.

We bought a bottle of very yummy dipping oil and, a few miles later, bought some good bread to go along with. Then we went home, put our plastic chairs on the sunny patio on the south of the house, and had a snack. It wasn't what we really, really, wanted to be doing, but it was good all the same.

Pic attribution: Image: "Colors" http://www.flickr.com/photos/13238706@NOO/2730411175

Passion is a beautiful thing

Last night we got together with friends Nancy, Jane, and Nancy's daughter Sarah, her partner Jay, and their friend Zach. Nancy hosted. It was so much fun. Simple appetizers of chips, humus and salsa. Dinner was minestrone and bread. Dessert was my famous brownies. Lots of laughter and friendship. 

What's sticking in my head this morning, however, is Zach's passion. I just met Zach yesterday, but he made such a huge impression on me ~ it's always so powerful to see someone living his passion, and Zach surely is. Six months out of cosmetology school, he brought his blow-dryer, special round brush and pomade with him from the Cities. He's working in a fabulous salon, and he was eager for the chance to show his stuff. Jane got a blow-dry while the rest of us sat around the table drinking wine and chatting. When Zach was done with Jane's hair, she looked blissful from the scalp massage and ready to anchor the evening news. 

And Zach was aglow. That's what's got me still smiling this morning. Passion like that is priceless and contagious. I can't wait to see what this young man will do with his life... stand back 'cuz it will be great.

Pic info: "Amazonas" from Flickr Creative Commons

Watch and Be Happy

Tears, laughter and the whole big mess of it

Yesterday was a day full of both sadness and joy, one of those weird kinds of days that leaves you feeling both stuffed full and drained empty at the end.

We had our family Thanksgiving yesterday because Nick has come home for his 3 weeks of R&R from Alaska. So I spent the morning cooking desserts and a rice stuffing. Gabi helped with a few things, but mostly she prepped for her physics classes (she's spending hours and hours every weekend getting ready for her AP class. I just keep telling her, "next year will be easier.")

I made both pumpkin and pecan pies as well as a gluten-free chocolate cake (from a mix, and it turned out really well!). Then a brown and white rice stuffing that was yummy enough that even gluten-eaters would enjoy it.

So there was all that joy to look forward to... but at the same time much grief and sorrow. Our friend Jan passed away yesterday morning. Jan was diagnosed with cancer over the summer ~ in both her colon and lungs. Thankfully, she was well enough to go home for a few hours on Thanksgiving to spend with her family. Then on Monday or Tuesday she came down with an infection and the end came very quickly.

Jan was such an amazing woman. She had that grace of spirit ~ born of generosity, kindness, strength and being absolutely grounded ~ that is both profoundly compelling and deeply comfortable to be around. Everyone loved Jan. I think we all aspired to be like her on some level.

Jan worked for the Elk River School District until she retired a year or two ago. She was the librarian, working first at the elementary school and later at the high school. Gabi came home a few days ago and told me that, when she told her classes that Jan was very sick, her seniors told her how they could still remember Jan reading to them when they were little kids. She used different voices and made the stories come alive.

So, after crying and baking and lighting a candle for Jan, we took our plunder to Nick and Amanda's house and spent a great afternoon hanging out with family, feasting and chatting. It's the sort of thing Jan would approve of. Jake and Max are getting to be so grown up, and both know all the plays that the Vikings should have run. Sofia is bright and articulate and can talk about anything, and Eli continues to be the bundle of fun, playing with everyone. It was great fun.

And it was snowing lightly, that first real snow of the season, and everything looks so clean and fresh and lovely.

After we came home we checked our e-mail to see if there was a new CaringBridge posting about Jan. There wasn't, but instead we received an e-mail from Gabi's cousin Kathryn in England to let us know that Kathryn's stepfather Andrew passed away last week. We were both a little dumbfounded at the timing, but that's the way it works, isn't it? Andrew had been a member of Parliament for many years, so Kathryn included an article about him written by the Guardian. It made me proud to have met him.

We closed the day with more physics for Gabi; she's teaching a unit on thermodynamics this week. I cleaned up the last of the pie-making mess and then made some earrings and worked on a little felt credit card case. It was a quiet close to an all-over-the-map kind of day.

Finished enough

Ah, happy day. The study is finished enough for us to relax... well, no. It's finished enough for us to turn our attention instead to the yard, and the myriad chores left to do there. One of which is to find a lawn mower to borrow. Ours has decided that it has better things to do than start. You will not believe how grumpy we are about this.

However, let's talk pretty, happy things.

Our adinkra looks wonderful behind the desk. It makes me so happy to have the cloth up, even though I can't find the "cheat sheet" we brought back from Ghana to tell us the significance of the different stamps. This cloth, with its incredible detail and geometric patterns, was our first purchase together after we had decided to make a home together upon returning stateside. For fifteen years it has been in storage. Now it makes me giddy every time I look at it.

And here is one of the most colorful blankets that we brought back, looking right at home behind the sideboard that is decorated with toys made from tin cans. The motorcycle, train and vespa are all from Togo, as is the clay pot in the center. The two wooden figurines are from Benin, I believe. The wire airplane on the shelf is from Zimbabwe.

And last, but definitely not least: the craft hutch. Bracelet and necklace ideas are tacked up on the doors, and the former keyboard shelf is now home to my bead board and the felt pieces I use to lay stuff out while I'm playing with ideas. I have three fabric-collage bookmarks that I've been playing with tacked up in front. And storage beneath. There are places for most of my stuff ~ although I still need a separate rolling storage bin for ribbons, trim, purse handles and other various things.

There are still things to do in the room: re-upholster the two side-chairs (I'm thinking claret red velvet would be so cool), put up a few more things on the walls (pictures, a clock, etc.), and find some place for at least one kente strip. But it definitely feels homey and comfortable as it is.

Last night Gabi and I were both in here, she planning her week (AP Physics is as hard, if not harder, for the teacher as it is for the students. Send my sweet girl happy thoughts, please!), me playing with beads (although I was too tired to anything more than lay them out and look at them. The ideas came at 5:00 this morning). It was nice, listening to music and being in our new space, and the house still smelled like baked chicken and squash from dinner. A lovely end to what Gabi called, "the fastest weekend in history."

Love, Tacos and Universal Serendipity

Ah, what a blissful weekend we had. Saturday was our big Whoo-hoo We Did It fete, and we spent the day hanging out with lots of friends and family. Our first guests (not counting Donna and Mary, who came early to help out) arrived around 3:30 in the afternoon. The last guest left after midnight. (And Donna & Mary stayed for breakfast on Sunday.) What a blast. I can't say enough how much it means to me to be surrounded by these friends and family who bring their love, joy and blessings. When I feel bruised and alone, these people make my world right.

As I said, our wonderful friends Donna and Mary came early, bearing cake. A few weeks ago we were talking with them and Mary said she wanted to make our wedding cake. We said, "Whoo-hoo!" Mary makes great and gorgeous cakes. She asked us what kinds of cake we liked and so we answered that she couldn't go wrong with chocolate, carrot or spice cakes. And we said, "Surprise us." My goodness, but did she ever take us up on the challenge! We were gifted with the most gorgeous three-tiered cake, the bottom layer was carrot, the middle layer chocolate, and, of course, the topper was spice. Cream-cheese frosting on the top and bottom, sour cream/chocolate in the middle, and roses all around. It gave a whole new meaning to "yummy."

With so much love and congratulations flowing, the day passed in bliss. People came in shifts, with no planning on our part, so we were able to spend good time with everyone and really enjoy the company. Some people brought appetizers, so the table was spread with great food. We also had a big gallon-sized donation jar out for the No On Proposition 8 Campaign, and our friends filled it up with bills. We didn't quite meet Brad Pitt's $100,000 contribution, but we did alright.

We served a taco bar, and I picked tacos because it seemed like something that would be easy to prepare ahead, could be set out and reheated in shifts, and would appeal to lots of people. It was only when I started cooking the almost 7 pounds of roast on Friday that I realized that I'd also stumbled upon the most beautiful serendipity. The recipe, Spicy Oven-Stewed Beef, came from a cookbook of my mother's (perhaps the Chevy's restaurant cookbook ~ I'm not sure because I added it to my binder collection before I became disciplined about noting the source on my copies). I'd prepared it before and really enjoyed it. However, on Friday as I was re-reading the recipe before starting, I also read the anecdote on the sidebar. It describes how the authors developed the recipe for their beef tacos after a great day skiing with the family at Sugar Pine Point State Park in Lake Tahoe: the exact place where Gabi and I got married on July 19th.

Now, if that isn't the universe saying "Hurrah!," then I don't know what is!

Spicy Oven-Stewed Beef

2 1/2 pounds boneless beef chuck roast
2 tablespoons olive or peanut oil
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander seed
3 whole allspice berries
1/4 teaspoon whole peppercorns
1 pound tomatoes, preferably plum, coarsely chopped
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
2 large garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons chopped fresh oregano or 1/2 teaspoon dried
1 tablespoon achiote paste or 2 teaspoons pure chili powder plus 1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup dry red wine
2 cups water
18 corn or 12 flour tortillas, warmed or crisped just before serving

TOPPINGS
1 large onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup chopped fresh oregano leaves or 1 tablespoon dried
2 limes cut into 6 to 9 wedges each

1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.

2. Cut the chuck roast into pieces, about 3/4 inch thick by 1/2 inch long, trimming away any excess fat as you go.

3. Heat the oil in a large nonreactive stew pot over medium-high heat. Add as much meat as will fit in one uncrowded layer and cook until browned, about 4 minutes. Transfer to a bowl. Continue with another round until all the meat is browned.

4. While the meat browns, place the coriander, allspice, and peppercorns on a paper towel. Fold the towel over the spices and crush them with a mallet or hammer.

5. Return all the meat to the pot and add the crushed spices, tomatoes, chopped onions, garlic, oregano, achiote paste, salt, wine and water. Bring to a boil. Cover and place in oven. Cook until meat is tender, 1 1/4 hours. (This stew can also be cooked on top of the stove, covered, over medium heat. The timing is the same.)

6. To assemble, place about 1/3 cup of the stew filling in the center of a tortilla. Top with some finely chopped onion and a sprinkle of oregano. Squeeze a lime wedge over all. Fold and serve.

* When I made this for our fete I left the beef in somewhat larger chunks, cooked it a little longer than the recipe called for, and then shredded the beef after. The flavor is marvelous, and the filling makes great enchiladas as well. B.

The Perfect Glass of Iced Sun Tea

A recipe in honor of the last day of summer vacation.

1) Sleep late, taking extra time to snuggle with your sweetie.

2) Once you get up, do it slowly. Listen to the birds singing outside, pet the cats (don’t forget to feed them too). When you get dressed, make sure comfort is more important than style. But wear cute shoes.

3) Start the sun tea: fill a one-gallon glass jar with filtered water. Add 8 bags of Nestea, regular or decaf, and 4 bags of Constant Comment, also regular or decaf.

4) Place the tea jar in the sunniest place in the garden, next to the basil and garlic chives. Talk to the chickadees while you take down the feeders to refill them, and enjoy when they talk back when you return with full feeders. Be sure to put out some peanuts and sunflowers for the chipmunks and squirrels, and pass through the garden looking at the new blooms, encouraging the recent transplants, and enjoying the very last daylilies of the summer.

5) Pull a few weeds with your sweetie. Water any dry garden beds and all transplants. Putz around the yard before having a light lunch.

6) Load up the kayaks in the back of the truck and go to a favorite lake or gentle river. Enjoy time in the sunshine, counting eagles and kingfishers and turtles. Stop and rest if you get tired. Eat a snack if you get hungry. Talk about anything that pops into your minds, or just enjoy the silence.

7) Head back home. Take in the tea. Remove the tea bags and refrigerate.

8) Do one productive thing from the to-do list that’s still too long.

9) Get a book and sit on the porch or the patio, reading out loud to each other. Or talk about what a great summer it’s been. Call each other Mrs. Laugh. Smile a lot.

10) Pour a glass of tea over ice. Add a slice of lemon or a little sugar if desired. Watch goldfinches eating sunflowers that the sparrows planted in the spring. Watch chipmunks run through the yard with perfectly peanut-shaped cheeks. Talk about school plans, weeding the library, and projects that need to be completed before fall. Feel completely happy and right with the world.

Photo credits: this is a picture of Crimson Shadows, the last great bloomer of the season. I purchased the plant from Oakes Daylilies a few years ago. Highly recommended.

Good-bye July

I'm stunned and a little embarrassed that I never made it back during July to write more in the blog. It's not that I wasn't doing anything worth writing about: we drove to Winnemucca to meet The New Nephew, Jon, visit with the rest of the family, and then on to Lake Tahoe, California side, to get married. Then we enjoyed the Marital Bliss Road Trip back with a stop in Missoula.

Perhaps I'll detail it more later, but for now I just have to say how incredibly grateful and humbled I am at the amount of congratulations and cheers we've received since we decided to drive to California and make our marriage legal. We've been toasted and cheered and received so many congratulations that it's left me at times overwhelmed and humbled to the point of silence. It's incredibly moving that so many people around us understand why it's so important for us to have this legal right. Why it shouldn't be taken for granted by anyone and should be available to all of us.

I never would have expected that the words "by the power vested in me by the state of California" would have such an impact. But they did, and when Christa spoke them we sobbed. Me, my lovely Gabi, our friends Paul and Jennie, and Christa too. We all sobbed. It was so powerful. Such a simple thing that so many straight couples get to take for granted...

So, we're back. The honeymoon is over and I'm back to work and Gabi is back to lesson planning ~ school starts in three weeks.

Oh, and one other thing: by pure dumb luck we arrived in Missoula at the same time that Ani DiFranco was there on tour. So we were able to see her in concert at the historic Wilma Theater in downtown Missoula (when I went to school there, I used to go see old black and white classics at the Wilma's little theater... one of my favorite places in town). Seats were general admission, so we got there early enough to find places in the center of the seventh row. We could see her sweat. She was, simply put, awesome, and it was great to sing out, with all the rest of the audience, every word for her canon classics like "Gravel," "Swan Dive," and "32 Flavors." My only disappointment was that she didn't sing "Pixie," one of my favorites and one of her most underrated songs. Still. Bliss. And no better place for two dykely newlyweds to hold hands and dance.

What am I doing here?

It's a question that crops up from time to time:

Why do I spend the time and energy to blog?

Some days, the voice has a tinge of self-pitying doubt. These are days when I look and see that even though my site meter tells me that I've had several visitors in the last week, no one has left me a comment since forever (can you hear the 14 year old?). Do they not care? Is my writing that bad? Should I go hide by head under a blanket and never touch a keyboard again?

Fortunately, those times don't last long.

Other times, such as today, I am inspired to ask this question more intellectually, and then both the accompanying questions and the answers are much more pleasant.

I stumbled across an essay by Meredith Farkas, of Information Wants to Be Free, where she asks a similar question. She's looking at the issue of self-disclosure and social media, and wonders about her motivations when she does disclose personal information about herself. Farkas writes,

I notice that my blog started to get more personal as I started to connect more with real people online. I had a few regular readers and commenters whom I got to know and like, and I wanted to share things with them, both good and bad. Personal and professional, online and real world all seemed to blur together.

She finds herself in the position of knowing a lot about people she's never met in person, and of being completely involved in the dramas going on in their lives, because of reading their blogs. And lots of people know a lot about her, because of reading her blog. Boundaries get blurry. She thinks of them as friends, but does that make sense?

Another question Farkas poses is how much her self-disclosure has to do with ego. Is she telling personal information, for example job search woes, so that someone will leave an encouraging comment?

It's a fair question, and one I pose to myself. Of course it feels good to have someone comment. How great do you feel when a stranger notices and comments on your gorgeous new shoes? Great, you feel great. I think we all want to be noticed, and this only increases when something means a lot to you. If writing ~ blogging ~ is a passion, of course you will want people to appreciate the effort you put into it. The same goes for whatever you blog about. On some level you will want someone to comment on that recipe or picture or bit of unsolicited advice.

But I also think there is more to it than this, and I suspect it's a commonality with many of us who put a lot of care into what we write on our blogs, regardless of the size of our readership or the subjects we write about. The epiphany came to me as I was putting away dishes and thinking about writing this essay. I realized that lately when I'm working in the yard, at the library, puttering away my time on the water, or reading a good book, in part of my mind I am also thinking, "Is there something here that would be worth writing about? Is there something here that is interesting? What am I feeling at this very moment?"

For me, the great thing about blogging is the care I put into what I write, as much as how I write it. In short, I pay more attention to the good things going on around me. It becomes a sort of gratitude exercise or prayer, and consequently I get more out of what I'm doing and experiencing.

I've made a very conscious effort to focus on positives in this blog. Yes, there have been a couple of rants, but even the quest for joy must be done in moderation. And when I do feel a rant coming on, I try to think about it for a while and figure out a way to write about what is bothering me in a way that is thoughtful and constructive.

The key here is that the process of committing my thoughts to the blogosphere makes me pause, take stock, and look at the world around me ~ good and bad, profound and mundane ~ in a way that is more productive than I might otherwise have done. I want to make my blog a place that friends, family and strangers can visit and find something interesting, hopeful, peaceful or thought-provoking. I hope I succeed for those of you who read these words.

What sustains me through the comment droughts and self doubts is that even if no one else read this blog, the process of blogging is good. Somehow, making the blog worth visiting makes me feel the grace and goodness in my life as well. It's more powerful in this way than journaling, because journaling is private and blogging is emphatically not. When I've written a journal, I didn't ask myself, "what would my mother/lover/boss think of this?" because that person would not be reading my words. When I blog, I do think of these people, and a whole lot more, and evaluate how my words might impact them, for better or worse. But I don't think it's the same as self-censorship, because I've discovered that by caring about the impact of my words on others I actually like what I'm writing and thinking better as well.

Which is not to say that I wouldn't love to hear from you, whether we know each other outside of the blogosphere or not. Go ahead, leave a comment. It will make my day.

BTW: the lovely pic up top is from
www.publicdomainpictures.net

Another splendid Sunday

We could not have ordered nicer weather today. It's been sunny, with just a light breeze, and temps up to about 80. Perfect. So, yes, of course we took the kayaks out.



Today we went out on the Mississippi. We put in at Little Rock Lake, near Rice. The lake had a severe algae problem last year, and it looks like it might develop the same stinky problem this year. However, right now it's lovely, with just the occasional green glaze. It's a very populated area, yet full of little hidden coves too shallow for the pontoons and larger boats to get into.



Near the edge of the lake, where it merges with the river, we were exploring a shallow area that will be soon be choked with water lilies. Behind us, just hidden behind cottonwood, pine and willow trees, were several large houses. Someone was playing, of all things, a Sousa march at speaker-breaking volume. Then a train went by, sounding its whistle as it approached a nearby bridge. And a speedboat throttled up somewhere not too distant.

And amidst all this noise, we discovered a patient heron, standing quietly on a log while a couple of red-wing blackbirds busied themselves in the underbrush nearby. Herons are normally very shy, but this one let Gabi drift close enough for a great picture.



This is what I love about exploring the Mississippi as it flows past Sartell, Sauk Rapids and St. Cloud. The river is wide and deep enough for powerful boats to cruise up and down, but then you can also find these shallow, "secret" areas where the big boys can't get to. And in these places, the wild essence of the river remains. There are still unspoiled areas of great beauty, they're just small and infrequent, and you have to pay attention so that you don't miss them.

But, if you do pay attention, the beauty and wildness is there, surprising and remarkable in its tenacious, willful exuberance.

The Queen of Beef Stew

Again this morning I found myself loading up the big crock pot with five pounds of chunked beef and two pounds of sweet potatoes, Cleo twining herself around my legs while Rosie sat politely but expectantly on the bookshelf by the kitchen window, watching, watching.

Before I started making their food, they thought of my cooking as little more than tantalizing scents, heavy with spices and garlic, and they stood in the doorway or slept on the bookcase, present but not particularly attentive. They understood the difference between PeopleFood and CatFood. More importantly, they had manners and understood that while they could have all the latter they wanted, the former was completely off limits. No begging allowed.

Now that I am Queen of Beef Stew and CatFood comes from the very same stove and fridge as PeopleFood, the line between the two has blurred and my every entrance into the kitchen is an Event. We still have the “no begging” conversation, and Cleo, bless her heart, tries to remember. I can see her little cat brain trying to restrain the furry gray rest of her. She looks up at me, worshipping, and I swear I can hear her thinking, I know you don’t want to be bothered right now but oh gaud that smells so good I love beef you know I wouldn’t bother you except it's been only an hour or two since breakfast and I’m really really starving. Please?

To which, like any goddess, I boot her gently away from my feet and carry on with my chores.

Our friends are often stunned and curious when they learn that I cook for the cats. Understand, please, this was a last ditch effort to heal our beloved Cleo. Rosie has demonstrated quite convincingly that she could live on anything: chicken kibble, fish kibble, dust bunnies, rubber bands. It’s all the same in that vacuum-sealed space that passes for her brain.

But Cleo has always been, to put it mildly, sensitive. She’s terrified of children, although thunderstorms don’t faze her. She’s very gentle and quiet unless badly spooked, whereupon she can turn in a nanosecond into a screeching, lashing, scratching bundle of terror. And then, almost without fail, she pees all over herself. She has to be sedated to visit the vet, and still complains endlessly and looks like some drugged-out refugee from a specially designed veterinary concentration camp.

And, lastly, give her food that doesn’t agree with her and she will quite literally very nearly puke herself to death. We have vet bills to prove it.

The list of foods that don’t agree with her is long: chicken, rice, corn, beef liver, spider plants.

Now, it’s easy enough to find pre-made food without chlorophytum comosum, but chicken, rice and corn are another matter entirely.

A year ago, Cleo had been getting progressively sicker, throwing up so violently and spontaneously that she was helpless to even move once the fits came over her. She threw up on the bed, couches, anything. She threw up every bit of food in her belly and when her stomach was empty she threw up blood. Over and over. We barred her from our bedroom when we were gone and kept the couches covered at all times, watched TV or slept with one ear half-cocked for the awful sound of her retching. We saw the vet and asked him about it, half sick ourselves with the fear that it was cancer or a tumor and we would have to put our cherished little cat down. Instead he just shook his head and said, “Does she lick her sides and tail like she’s itching or has gas?”

“Well yes,” we replied, “but she’s done that all her life.”

He nodded. “Food allergies. They get worse as cats age. Change her diet.”

Obediently, we started reading labels even more carefully on bags of cat food (we’d already been paying good money for the best, healthiest food we could find). Everything had something we didn’t want her to eat. So I went to the library and started researching.

And so began my reign as Queen of Beef Stew, Duchess of Salmon Casserole, Grand Lady of the Lamb Indulgence.

Last night as I dished out their food and noted that there was only one meal’s worth left, I told Gabi that I was getting tired of making all their food. Perhaps it was time to look for a pre-made food, one that was chicken and grain free and also free of artificial colors, flavors and fillers. In other words, something made with just as much care and consideration as I put into their every meal.

But today, after our little love-fest this morning, it doesn’t feel so much like a chore. We will need to find a pre-made food for them, if only to augment their stews during the two-week vacation we’re planning for this summer. But for now, the crock pot is full, the cats are sleeping contentedly, and a fine drizzle is falling on the growing plants in the garden. This is what I do, this is my life as lived, and it’s all very good.

Joy, bliss and lots of water

It was, as my lovely Gabi said, a weekend largely devoted to water. First, we hooked up the four rainbarrels purchased last week to the gutters installed two years ago...

We may not get our chores done speedily, but we do get them done, eventually.

First off, I must say how happy we were on Saturday morning to look outside and see sunshine instead of snow! Yes, the weather predictors had been saying, "The snow is coming the snow is coming" all week, and we were believers. Instead, we we were greeted by sunshine and temperatures speeding all the way up to the high fifties... yes, there's some sarcasm there. Still, a lovely day. We spent the afternoon fixing up the rainbarrels, and all was well and good in the world.

Sunday was simply beautiful. The first miniature iris were budding, lots of sun, the lawns turning malachite green. New growth is such a stunning color this time of year. It takes your breath away.

I bought some pansies and potted them up for the front and back steps. So cheerful to come home to.

In the afternoon we were took the kayaks out to St. John's University and Lake Saga-somethingunpronouncable. It was great. The wind was up a little, but not enough for whitecaps. Just some fun waves to bounce over the front of the boats. The water was frigid, but with our big, strange-looking skirts on the kayaks we stayed dry and warm.

Best was venturing into the little pond-like areas around the lake that are inaccessible for most of the year. However, yesterday the water lilies were still a foot below the surface and the water is still high enough that we explored further than we ever have before. We found a second beaver dam (old and abandoned, by the look of it). We saw dozens of turtles sunning themselves -- they're very easy to spot this time of year because they are a deep dark green but the watergrasses are still brown. In a month they'll be virtually invisible.

As always, we saw many varieties of birds at Lake Sag. Common loons, two kinds of chickadees, ducks, geese, goldfinches, kingfishers... and an eagle on our way home.

We also saw (and heard) a herd of 15 deer, does and fawns. They were incredibly noisy running across last year's dropped leaves.

So, yes, proof positive that winter is over.

Off with my imaginary friends again

Today I was finally able to go back to the story I started last year. It's been a couple of months since I wrote (fiction) at all... first there were hours of post-caucus volunteer work for the DFL, and then hours spent working on the 23 Things lessons. Both of those were worth the time invested, but I get itchy and fretful whenever I spend too much time away from writing fiction. Other creative pursuits -- knitting, beading, gardening, cooking, even writing the blog -- can dull the need, postponing that day when I get up and nothing else matters but spending time at the computer, letting the story fill me up and spill out onto the screen. But I always have to come back to it.

And today the story -- place, characters, plot, atmosphere -- was waiting for me like an old friend, ready to pick right up where we'd left off. Nothing had withered while I was away, and that was so inspiring. Sometimes the words have a life, and a lifespan, all their own. I write them one day and later, when I come back back to them, they've turned dull and hollow. They lay on the page just filling up white space instead of opening up into a new and vibrant world. So it's always a brilliant event, a little startling even, when they are as fresh and alive to me "later" as they were during that first initial rush of inspiration.

The act of writing itself has a lifespan. That first draft is pure blissful energy, inspiration and discovery (sometimes, when it's good, the rush lasts into the second and third drafts). This is puppy love in letters. This is adrenaline. This is believing in the unity and beauty of the world, interconnectedness of thoughts, inspirations and beliefs. This is pure, simple, ecstatic, exhausted joy.

Then there's the editing. Drafts three through ten still have some of that bliss. There are moments of peaceful certainty and soulful thrill, moments when plot and character suddenly gain a clarity that was missing. You see the story in a slightly different light. It's the difference between looking at a landscape at high noon, with the sun bleeding all the nuance out of grass and sky, and at that rosy period just before dusk when the colors warm and glow and every rock looks alive. Suddenly, aha, you get it. This is what the characters have been trying to tell you. This is where the story wants to go.

Unfortunately, if my last novel was any indication, that is not necessarily where the story is finished. These glimpses of clarity occur scene by scene or, perhaps, if you're good and lucky, chapter by chapter. But that doesn't mean that the whole thing is finished. It's not enough to have many fabulous scenes and one or two mesmerizing characters. The whole story has to fit together, as seamlessly as possible, and you, the writer, need to disappear into the atmosphere. You need to become like the atmosphere -- always there, doing your job, but invisible.

And thus goes the slogging labor of drafts ten through ... the end.

And even then, you might spend a year or more looking for an agent, perhaps even get some nibbles, but no one willing to introduce you to a friendly publisher.

But I don't want to think of those end drafts now. I'm still in blissful puppy love land with this new story. I'm fascinated and moved by the characters as they grow and become so much more than I ever expected them to be. They're alive, and so I feel that way too.