Not Exactly Alliteration, But Close

That is the subtitle. Here's the actual title: School, Chicago, Surgery and Other Stuff. See? Almost poetic, but Sicago just doesn't sound right.

First, school. Today the teens started their Senior and Sophomore years. It was my daughter's last first day of school. That always gives me pause. Another one of my kids nearly done with childhood. Anyway, that's another post. Evan is into his second year of high school and went dressed quite fashionably for a boy who used to take pride in wearing the same socks for a week at a time. It's fun to see them grow up.  I like them both so much--you can see below how likable they are.

Next, Chicago. My conference was great, in spite of my stress over Irene. I helped to present the Opening Day Spotlight with a jacket design project in which I participated with several other friends. We all started with the same plan for a jacket and every one  of us came up with a completely unique product. It was really fun to work with these gals on this.

Photo by Lisa Mannes

In the end, I moved my flight forward a day because of predicted travel chaos, then when things calmed down, I wasn't able to move it back, so I was blessed with a lovely found afternoon to spend in downtown Chicago.

I began by parking at the North Ave. Beach Park where there is a beach house shaped like a boat, walked south on the Lakefront Trail to Navy Pier, took an architectural boat tour on the Chicago River and the lake and saw many of the great buildings of this favorite of cities. I then rented a b-cycle (as easy as grabbing a cart at the airport) and rode back up the trail to the  Nature Museum, where there was another b-station location. It was a crystal-clear day with a crisp breeze and even though I would rather have been home in my heart of hearts, I really did enjoy this chance to just explore without an agenda, without having to be in charge of whether or not anyone else was having a good day, and just sort of go where the wind blew me. I tried to be in the moment and really drink in the sights, sounds and sensations of the city.

The skyline comes into view

Lake Michigan is, apparently,  full of love.
I found lots of heart-shaped rocks.

Hancock Building

Wrigley Bldg. on left, Chicago Tribune Bldg.
on right. 

Lighthouse on the lake

Skyline view from the SeaDawg

Stained glass in the Navy Pier gallery-
there is a whole installation of these
beauties in there!

Another gorgeous stained glass window.
This one reminds me of a quilt.  

I like this view of the skyline because it shows both the
Hancock and Willis (Sears) Tower

a b-cycle station at the Nature Museum,
right by the Lincoln Park Zoo. 

Me and my b-cycle. DC has rental bikes
like this and I think I may make a habit
of using them when I metro downtown.
It was easy and saved me a lot of time. 

And now, last and probably least, Surgery.  I had that BCC removed from my nose today. Everything went fine. Dr. Dawn and his darling helper Chinell carved an impressive hole in the side of my nose (I made them show me because I actually think it is interesting rather than gross), then he made a neat flap out of some of my cheek skin and sewed it back up again with many, many tiny stitches. So, now I can say I've had a nose job. Or maybe an under-eye tuck.  But really, for the moment, I can say I Am Lord Voldemort. Check out this action. I think the bandage and the droopy eye due to the anesthetic make a very friendly look. The good news is that they got all the cancer cells, and any soreness has been manageable with a little ibuprofen. That's not to say that I won't be glad to be free of my dressing-that-must-not-be-named tomorrow, but I can't complain one bit about any of it. Thank goodness for my slight OCD about medical conditions and the miracles of modern surgery.

Keldemort

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Waiting for Irene

I'm in Chicago teaching at a conference. Irene the hurricane is on her way to my and many other hometowns. I was supposed to fly home on Sunday. I should have called earlier to change my flight. Now I've been on hold with the airline for 45 minutes. The website won't even let me in. Goodness. Apparently this is serious. The news is using words like "Extraordinary Impact on Eastern Seaboard."  Wow. That's where I live.

I know my family will be okay because I went all ballistic and provident-living-ish on them before I left, with lists and things to do and gather and find,  so they're all ready.  I just wish I was going to be there with them. These are the times when I feel homesick.

As the saying goes, so shall I try, and to all my loved ones currently in the path of the monster, you're in my thoughts and prayers every minute, all the time.  Hug each other and roast a s'more on the grill for me if the power goes out.

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Today I'm Thinking About...

• Far away friends and how hearts can stay in touch even when busy mom brains have trouble finding time to do so. Last Sunday I got another golden hour with  Ashlee (now from Texas) and it was wonderful to spend time with a dear kindred spirit and see her beautiful children. It matters a LOT to me that she took time to meet me. This is now two summers running that we've caught a glimpse of each other and I'll take it.  This week also proved that even after SIX years without seeing each other, it can still feel just right to be together with a friend of my heart. This is Jill, who used to live here but now lives in Nebraska and her daughter got married this week. I flew out for the wedding and I'm so glad I did. We are still Punch and Judy and that makes me happy. 

• How much more comfortable I am looking at the world through my camera and how simultaneously fun and strange it was to not be in charge of photography for this wedding but how I couldn't resist and took 150 candid shots anyway because I just like observing people and capturing moments.

• My cozy little home and my family and how much I really missed them on this trip, especially when I got delayed due to storms and had to wait an extra day to return. I could not get here fast enough and when Eric came to pick me up I couldn't stand to be alone one more minute while I was standing in line to find my lost luggage. I asked him to park and come in and he did even though it was a long wait and a big hassle and as soon as I saw him, then I really felt like I was home after my long, long day of rebooked travel. 
• My missionary boy, Sam. His letters THRILL me.  He is positive and determined, focused and faithful. I often joke that my kids are turning out well in spite of me, but sometimes, in moments of peace, the truth distills in my mind that they actually are reflecting things I've tried to show them and that they are part of a chain of family strength that started a long time ago and now will go forward into the future. I'm grateful for that. Here he is back in June while still in the MTC (back row, far left). 

• The C word. Yes, Cancer. I have a tiny little Basal Cell Carcinoma on my nose that will be removed in a week or so by way of MOHs surgery. It's not a big deal at all because I found it early and it's kind of a "good" cancer to have, due to its slow-growth habits, but it sure makes you think, I'll tell you what. I've always considered myself a ticking time bomb for skin cancer due to my pale skin and reddish hair, so I'm kind of paranoid about bumps and things. I get teased about my constant checking and asking my family members about their skin, but this time it paid off, thank you very much. 
• Lots of other things, but that's enough for now. Sometimes I really do wish that Pensieves were real. I lose too many thoughts, but at least these few are saved. 

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A Sunday

I woke at 5:30 today. My brain just turned on and we were off to the races for the day. I went downstairs to check on today's crock-pot barbecue that had been in its phase-one cooking stage all night and decided to put in more pork. Then I broke a glass and had run the vacuum at that early hour. Fortunately, no one heard me. It takes heavy equipment to wake my family on Sunday mornings, so all's well.

Said dinner smells really good as I go about the morning, which is both enjoyable and challenging since today is the day each month when I fast for a time as a form of worship. Soo-ooo I'm smelling all this porkliciousness and then trying to use it as a springboard to greater self-control and spiritual awareness. It will taste so good this afternoon, I guarantee you that, friends. That's part of the beauty of the fast. It actually feels good to wrench myself out of my constant prowl for snacks and tell my body that yes, I, the person, actually am in charge of I, the organism.

I did take some time after my silly wake-up to play some hymns on the piano, and then I snuggled up under the covers while letting some good, thought provoking religious words from here into my brain as I dozed.

Now I've put some bread into rise so we can have warm, crusty, inch-thick slices to ferry succulent barbecue to our mouths instead of just plain old kaiser rolls. I can't wait.

So far, it actually has been a day of rest. It was not always so, as you can imagine with five kids and trying to get them to appreciate a day of rest (hahahahahaha), but there are benefits to those years of crazy Sundays when the word Rest definitely had dramatic air quotes around it and the attempts happened through clenched teeth sometimes. I think now that my kids understand the reasons why we take a break from the busy, busy world for just one day a week and do other things. Different things. It is a day with a certain, specific feel to it-you wake and breathe and listen and know instantly that it's Sunday. I like that.

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Book Review: Katish

Katish, Our Russian Cook by Wanda Frolov
Genre: Non-fiction, memoir
You Might Like This Book If: You're a foodie (this is a collection of essays that were originally published in Gourmet Magazine in the 40's), you like stories of immigrants to the US and how they cope, or you like the writing style of the 1940's, complete with quaint illustrations.

I picked up this little book here solely on the beauty of the cover and wanting to read more about the romantic (to me at least) notion of having a Russian cook in my house.

I had a 4-hour flight last week and was able to read the whole thing in that time. I had brought it along just for the take-offs and landings, but it held my interest well enough to keep the knitting and laptop from ever making it out of the bag.

The writing is of the vintage of a Nancy Drew novel, with a kind of gentle humor and naiveté that was really refreshing and enjoyable in contrast to the complexity and sometime heaviness of modern writing. It is also told in terms of the food and cooking of this delightful Russian woman, and includes some really interesting dishes and recipes.

Katish, the eponymous Russian woman, is strong, funny, smart, loving and an obviously beloved influence on the author's life. I liked this little stumbled-upon memoir, and especially liked the little snapshot it offered of one kind of American experience.

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Book Review: Blood, Bones and Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton

Title/Author: Blood, Bones and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef, by Gabrielle Hamilton
Genre: Memoir? She's just my age, so it's too soon in her life to be an autobiography, right?
Will you like it? You might like this book if you're a foodie, or if you like gritty tales of survival, coming of age, and lives lived outside of conventional boundaries. 
Note to sensitive readers: It has a lot of profanity and some very, shall we say, earthy descriptions of the vagaries of restaurant life. 

Gabrielle Hamilton is the Chef/Owner of Prune, a restaurant in New York City with just 30 seats and a huge following. She fell into the food and restaurant business sort of sideways and her story is actually really interesting. She decided to open a restaurant not because she was a trained chef with an ambition to have a show on the Food Network, but because she wanted people to be fed and actually nourished the way she felt nourished (after a period of near starvation while backpacking around Europe) in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant on a remote Greek island. I really admire her lack of desire for fame and fortune. It really is all about the food for her. And the writing. The writing is beautiful.   From the beginning,  I couldn't put it down, so to speak. Actually I couldn't close my laptop because I was reading it on Adobe Digital Editions as an e-loan from my library. I guess we need some new terminology for this grand age of digital reading.

Anyway, as you might discern from the title, this is a highly visceral book and so sensorily sculpted that you can practically taste, see, smell and feel every single thing that she tells about. I really like that. I want to be able to use food the way she does-as so much more than mere calories. The way she describes the food in this book is gorgeous.  She has not lived an easy life, but she is very, very, VERY honest about it (so hold on tight and be prepared to close your eyes occasionally). This quote from an interview in the NYTimes sums up the impetus behind the toothsome way she told her story:

Ms. Hamilton might scoff at fussy, doctrinaire belief systems when it comes to eating, but it’s safe to say that she does have a life philosophy, one that might be boiled down to the following roux: Life is messy. Get used to it.

“Books, movies, music, restaurants, advertising: something’s happened to us,” she said. “We’re not telling the truth. We don’t stink. We don’t have yellow teeth. We don’t have crooked teeth. We don’t have to suffer disagreement or pain or setbacks anymore. You can go to your doctor and get a pill — you don’t even have to be melancholy anymore, right? I mean, it’s just incredible what the new way of being is. We’ll see how that works out.”

I agree a lot with her chagrin at the sanitization of modern life. I like the idea of actually experiencing what is really going on around me. Not that I don't love my conveniences and the structure that my upbringing has given my own life, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be romantic about anarchy or going back a century or anything, but there is something to be said for remembering the origin of things, for having balance to all the crutches we have available to us, for occasionally having to be uncomfortable in order to appreciate comfort, to be hungry in order to appreciate being filled.  There is a heartbreaking story in the  book, when she and her husband are visiting Italy and they are in this impossibly beautiful old villa by the sea that is his ancestral home and there is one of those rooms in the middle of the house with no ceiling. She is looking at the stars and he is right there, under the sky, looking down and mapping the constellations on his computer with google earth or something. She mourns the inauthenticity of his interaction with the world in that moment.  The way she writes it, in the context of their relationship, it made me cry.

The author's life is so completely, utterly different from my own, that one might think I would have nothing  to gain from reading such a sometimes sordid tale, but I found myself intrigued, incensed, incredulous, impressed, and then finally, inspired. I may seem to have little in common with her on the surface, but we're both humans, so underneath our skins I'm more like her than not, and she reminded me with her telling of her messy life that I need to remember passion and to value what's actually valuable.

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Family, Found

I'm feeling fortunate.
My son found a wife who is not only perfect all by herself, but then as an abundant, amazing blessing, she comes with a family that we just adore.
A lot.
All of them.
(Hopefully we won't scare them because we like them so much.)

Anyway,
This past weekend they brought me out to California take wedding photos for another daughter.
I got to see my son and his wife, which I loved.

Jeff and Ashlyn, married 1 year

And I grow ever-fonder of this delightful daughter-in-law.

But after 44 years of living in my parents' near orbit,
I find myself still feeling a slight emptiness in a corner of my heart a year after their move.
Wishing for the particular comfort of extended family.
This weekend filled that little empty divot.
And I had a place for a while, an actual physical feeling of belonging.

And it was so sweet that frankly, I cried a little when I left.

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