Happy Mother's Day!

When funds are low at the house, Mother’s Day becomes less about things and more about good food and good company… Of course, Mother’s Day is a silly holiday in my book. Every day is mother’s day! Any day that ends in “y” is mother’s day.

To that end, I made a quick stop at Trader Joe’s this afternoon.

We like to do fish on weekends and I was hoping they had red snapper. No such luck this time.

I bought the seafood blend she likes to start off the weekend and she bought some broccoli, red peppers and a red onion for it. The beauty of the blend mix is that the stir fry is always just a little different and that keeps it interesting.

I bought four little flounder fillets stuffed with crab meat – these are awesome and rich and quite a treat. The plan is to make a faux risotto with orzo, maybe with a bit of spinach.

Finally, the coup was the very seasonal red Argentine shrimp – sweet and tender like lobster. I have not decided how I’ll make them, but I’m thinking it will be a simple sauté because the shrimp ought to take center stage and not the condiments.

There are still a few tiny heirloom tomatoes in the house and they’d make for a beautiful rainbow of flavor to add to one of these dishes, maybe drizzled with a little olive oil and oven fries. That way we’ll have tart and sweet and crunchy and savory in one dish.

No celebratory weekend could come and go without chocolate covered fruit medley but this year I added sea salt caramels covered in chocolate. (Yes, by all means, fan yourself and think about that for a moment. I’ll wait…)

I managed a tiny surprise for Mom (not to be spoken of here until after the fact, just in case).

Ultimately, the true value is the time I get to spend with Mom. I hope those of you who are blessed to have their mommies can enjoy some time with them. Those who cannot have a virtual hug and I hope you can take a moment to remember them fondly, with a smile in your heart. 

Hope Springs Eternal

This has been quite a busy week, with plenty of ups and downs. There were disappointments and moments of deep frustration, culminating in an inner rage that simply knocked me out. I wish that the whole of humanity could experience an unfair challenge in the same way (by taking a cleansing nap).

No job yet, but I remain hopeful.

I stopped at Trader Joe’s Friday afternoon with the intention of purchasing some fish. I got swordfish steaks, hake fillets and the seafood blends for Mom (which she made tonight and is pictured above).

I don’t have a particular menu in mind, though other purchases made earlier this afternoon suggest courses of action. I bought some pesto sauce that I think will be paired with the hake and angel hair pasta. I also bought a small tub of tiny heirloom tomatoes, a rainbow of explosive deliciousness! These seem perfect for a Caribbean salsa over the swordfish, maybe with some couscous.

Also on Friday, I visited my old friends at the Department of Education. I miss them but it’s nice to be able to come by and check in with everyone. There is a sweet charm in catching the eye of people you used to take breaks with and laugh with on a daily basis, and suddenly break into girlish squeals and jump for joy (in public).

Even two years after the end of my tenure there, I am proud that my former colleagues think highly enough of me to share the joys of new baby pictures and the sadness of an impending death – both very personal and very dear to their hearts.

Next week, we try to get out of this rut – once more with feeling! I printed copies of a few short stories and I’ll work on translations for “Por Ser Mujer” during my down time at the part time… I’ve applied to several jobs through two agencies and hope they call me in and start sending me out for interviews.

In the meantime, as change makes a turn to meet me halfway, at least we’ll have a few lovely meals and a couple of days to rest and a chance to recharge the batteries and try again next week. Hope must be renewed like energy, and luckily I have a great motivating force backing me up. 

Boston as Quiet Strength

Like much of the country, I have been riveted by the news from Boston and the aftermath of the terrorist attack at the finish line of the Marathon.

I was leaving “work” when I overheard a guy in the back office watching television and the anchor was saying something about barricades and bodies. Probably in an attempt to embrace an all encompassing denial, I shut down and moved fast towards the elevators on my way home. I can’t be horrified by what I do not know has transpired…

At my arrival in Brooklyn, I found some relatively cryptic status updates on my Facebook feed that made no sense at all. Then, I turned the TV on while I sipped on some coffee and my head literally wanted to explode.

The rest of the week, like many of you, I watched, read and listened as victims died and the investigation continued. Mostly, I thought of Boston proper, as it were.

Boston is one of my favorite cities. It’s a pretty little place; a great walking city. I fell in love with it decades ago when I visited with a friend who lived in Cape Cod.

Someone whose knowledge of New York and Boston comes mainly from books, film and television and whatever other popular culture that speaks of our cities said he believed both cities were “similar in atmosphere.”

I thought on this and replied that New York and Boston were, to me, more like siblings. Boston would be the older, more mature of the siblings; and New York would be Bohemian, wild child and slutty sister. This does not mean that Boston is tightly wrapped in its Puritan past. Boston is just slightly more conservative.

Old Boston is beautiful to walk through. There are enough and varied cultural venues to keep you entertained. The food is fabulous! They also have a great variety of great bars.

What I know and understand of Boston is that it is one resilient town. Its people may seem aloof but they are not, they are lovely (and awesome in a pinch!).

It took less than a week for Boston to pull together and get the culprits, and now we’ll have to wait to learn why this happened. Put that aside and remember this fact: it took less than one week, and then they shut the city down and stopped everything until they put an end to it. That is Boston.

You know that jingoistic slogan about not messing with Texas? No, darling: don’t mess with Boston!

I’m broke right now, but the first opportunity I get to go somewhere, I am determined to return to Boston and I recommend it to anyone who has never visited.

I am not sure that I could live there, especially in winter, but Boston is one of those places I wouldn't mind visiting again and again. To me, Boston is like family and part of my heart resides there. I can only hope that I have in me part of its quiet strength.

A Full Day

It was another very long day that began with an appointment to pose for an ID photo. My understanding was that I’d have to start my “internship” after this happened. I was misinformed. Instead, after the photo was taken I picked up the necessary paperwork and was free to go on my merry way.

Like yesterday it was an unseasonably warm and relatively pretty day. At 9 am it was already in the high 60s.

I stood at the foot of the Brooklyn Bride, that majestic idea of magic and engineering and between the insane weather and my deeply rooted love affair with the damned bridge I distinctly heard a voice in my head say, “You know, it’s nice out, you should walk across it… you haven’t done that in like 30 years!”

My head whipped around and I heard myself say out loud, “WHO said that?!” Because this is New York, nobody took notice of the lady talking to herself. “Seriously,” I said to myself, “Crazy, go in your bag, take out the Metrocard and get on the subway!”

I was in no rush and could afford to take a really leisure stroll across the bridge, but my allergies have kicked in this week in ways I haven’t experienced in two years. The idea of being up in the bridge and getting hit with an asthmatic episode crossed my mind and I immediately got over the idea. At least until I go to the doctor and get a new pump, that is not a good idea.

It did occur to me to call my Borough President’s office and alert him I was coming on foot over the Bridge… “Marty? I’m walking across the Bridge; it may take me a full hour. Could you wait for me on the other side with a cup of really strong coffee, an oxygen tank and a couple of firemen (Brooklyn firemen, though; I don’t want no Manhattan mooks!)”

The truth is I needed to run an errand that I’d put aside in the last couple of days. This required I be farther inland than the bridge at the other end. It’d be within walking distance, but attending to it did not guarantee that I’d get things done (and then more walking would be necessary).

As it turned out, I was able to procure what I needed and now I had a beautiful day ahead of me and I was a couple of blocks away from the old office. I called the girls and, after finding them in, I came by to visit.

It’s interesting that after two years of being gone, my peeps at the Department of Education still embrace me as one of their own and everyone asked after Mom (I think they miss the candies and cookies and cakes). I planted the seeds that I’d love to come back if anyone has anything opening up in the near future…

Then I made a stop at Trader Joe’s. For my lunch and snack baggies I got a big bag of peanuts, lightly salted roasted plantain chips and dried mango. For the cupboard I bought a lemon pepper mill and two jars of garlic mustard aioli (which binds sandwiches rather well and will not poison me if I leave it out a couple of hours).

For Mom’s delight I bought her favorite, the seafood blend that we usually stir fry and serve with rice. I also brought home tilapia filets and for tonight, flounder filets stuffed with crabmeat to go with the orzo and pigeon pea salad she made on Monday. For our weekend video watching pleasure, our favorite chocolate-covered dried fruit treats. It’s a quality of life purchase. We deserve it! We earned it.

To cap the day from end to end, I had one friend helping me leverage a minor anxiety, another adding levity to my day, and then another writing a glowing and eloquent recommendation on my behalf (so good in fact that if I didn’t know it was about me I’d hire me!). My support system is unparalleled!

I may be exhausted but I am very hopeful, I accomplished a few things today, and despite having an uncomfortable conversation with my landlord which is likely to turn into a fight much later, I am firmly focused on the fact that I have some time to turn things around.

I think I can, I think I can…

Quinoa Bites

For someone who is not a baker, I have picked up this habit of baking things on a whim quite recently. I gots me a fever and I must baked me somethin’!

First it was vinegar cake (which was moist and delicious, though not quite as good as Mom’s). Now I have tried my hands at some protein bites with quinoa.

Not ready bars as I shaped them like tiny muffins, they qualify as bites instead.

I combined several recipes to try to come up with a snack.

First I cooked the quinoa in lightly salted water. Halfway through the simmer, about eight minutes in, I added half a cup of raisins, a dash of cinnamon and a splash of vanilla. I eyeballed it but if you must measure I’d say it was about half a teaspoon of cinnamon and teaspoon of vanilla.

When most of the liquid was absorbed, I turned it off and let it sit for a couple of minutes. I added about two tablespoons of Nutella and mixed it into the quinoa – I did this by hand and it took less than a minute to incorporate the mixture. Then I added about a quarter cup of maple syrup to bind it. Again I mixed by hand until the syrup was well incorporated in the now chocolaty quinoa.

Each bite is just about a tablespoon and a half of gooey goodness.

I let them settled in the fridge for a couple of hours, but they’re not hard enough to transport so instead I opted to bake them to bind and crunch them up. I started them at 300º F for 20 minutes. (Though it must be noted that I stupidly threw the bites into the oven without letting them go to room temperature, so it took another 15 or 20 minutes at 350º F to give it that toasty finish.)

It’ll either work or be a disaster, but I love the idea of experimenting in the kitchen (and maybe even coming up with a sweet little snack).

FYI, some folks freeze their quinoa protein bars/bites and you may want to try that – I want to be able to keep them in an airtight container for about a week and transport them.

I have cashews, but I decided to go with the raisins alone. But even without the nuts, and eggless, this reminds me a little bit of turrón and the possibilities here are endless.

I’ve wrapped them in saran in threes (I’m guessing mid-morning, lunch and mid-afternoon snack). The photos don’t do them justice because the true value here is the chocolaty aroma! Can’t translate that…

Again, Mom awoke to find me retrieving my snacks from the oven and returned to bed – because when the world is upside down the only reasonable thing to do is go back to sleep! So my life may not be exactly where I want it to be, but I find ways to make it interesting and fun. I wish you all the same.

Redefining Survival Again

I am at a crossroads. Literally. I need to redefine the acceptable parameters for survival. That is both exhilarating and horrifying. Part of what gets me through the process is the creative urge to document and editorialize it. I'm not sure that's the prudent path now...

I started this blog as an electronic journal. For this reason, I tried to upload unedited opinions and emotions. This makes for a purer writing experience and more enjoyable reading one. The problem, of course, is that life is not that simple.

In a private journal I can unleash to my heart’s content, but this is a relatively public forum. I had to curtail some of it (mostly for legal reasons).

Don’t misunderstand me, I still found ways to say what I had to say--but just as in my pre-teen and teen years when I knew my grandmother was monitoring my writing (snooping), I cleverly disguised what needed it.

I find myself wanting, needing even, to document honestly what is coming in the next few weeks. The problem is that this blog remains public and as I plunge into a work program, prospective employers will stop here and judge me based on the words I put down. Calling a spade a spade, at this very moment, will virtually put a strike over my name faster than flashing swastika animated .GIFs adorning the page.

So the story telling will have to take another track…

I am still at a crossroads.

But does that convey the truth of my situation? Maybe what I need to tell you is that I’ve hit a fork in the road.

A giant fork, in fact!

The fact is that it feels more like hitting the Devil’s pitchfork because now I’ll have to self-censor and that is plain evil. Evil? It’s soul crunching. It’s that or live a metaphor.

The only other alternative is to document it privately and publish later. Even then, it’s a hard choice: the harsh reality or a nightmarish parable for impressionable adult children? These are some of the questions that keep you up when your life has become a cautionary tale twice in one decade.

Thank goodness for friends, good humor and silver linings! It’s just another object lesson, another experience, fodder for writing, and (thankfully) temporary. Breathe: this too shall pass.

Sandwich Lesson

“Enjoy every sandwich.” –Warren Zevon

Our lives are about to tailspin a bit and settle on crappy for a while. While I am prepared for it, and understand that it is temporary, I dread it as it barrels towards me with the inevitability of gravity.

The truth is that the Drama Queen worrying is a good defense mechanism because it keeps me on my toes and it allows me to react quickly when things fall apart a little. Developing a thick skin is a good skill to have; otherwise you fray too easily and disintegrate at the slightest hint of a crisis. 

DEFCON 5 is for everyday living, we are a little past that. No, you need to be at DEFCON 3 (ready to mobilize air forces within 15 minutes). Being at DEFCON 1 is worst-case crisis mode and being there at all times makes for a lingering psychosis that’d be too hard to detach from after all is said and done.

If you take nothing else from me, remember this: when you expect hard times to hit, be ready and be aware that it is temporary; but, above all, live! Being prepared for the worst does not mean you live like a zombie until the storm hits you. 

Live as well you can, and do not sacrifice quality of life because it saves you nothing!

I’m not suggesting you go shopping at Neiman Marcus every weekend, mind you. Quality does not always translate to spending. Read, laugh, enjoy music and art and dance. Eat as well as budgets allow. Just as Mr. Zevon suggested, enjoy every sandwich.

I’d even add a level of sauciness to that and suggest you enjoy an outrageous sandwich every once in while! You get to define what’s outrageous, but make the most mundane of snacks a meal to write songs about...

Our latest included leftovers.

Remember my trip to Trader Joe’s? We had about a third of the truffle mousse pate left and I spread that over the top half of onion rolls. The sandwiches contained chopped ham, sitting on bread slathered in garlic mustard aioli, and these were separated by two, melting jalapeño jack slices.

I can hear foodies gasp in horror and I don’t care. It was freaking awesome!!! It tasted like heaven (naughty heaven) and it will be something we talk about for a bit – with a kind of child-like wonder and joy.

And for as long or little as we choose to live vicariously through that sandwich, we bring ourselves closer to the light at the end of that proverbial tunnel with a certain grace and that hard to define quality I suggested you invite into your survival to make it more bearable.