You are currently browsing the monthly archive for February, 2008.
where to start where to start
just begin just begin
type it out and out and out
get the heck out of here you fear
mongerer.
begin again.
@junemoon 2008
Since my possible curse, and I say possible not because I am not sure that a woman put a curse on me but because I am not sure whether it took or not. Whether my spirit shrugged it off or if the curse snuck in somehow. Anyway. Since this curse-ing, I have been doing little things to move back to my center. Some might label my behaviors as attempts to self soothe. Others might chalk my culinary efforts up to simply caving into my seemingly wide-awake-never-sleeping appetite of late. But whatever the reason, I have been cooking.
I would like to report that my efforts have been rewarded with deeLish-ous edible delights. I would like to say that I have cooked up some comfort. However, to say those things would be to move outside the realm of truth. Now I have been known to hang out in that un-truth realm a time or two, for a decade urrrr I mean a minute here and there. But I usually deal in reality when sharing about my Kitchen Time. So here’s the truth or as close to the truth as my maybe-cursed self can ascertain ~ aside from the crock pot chicken meal that I blogged about the other day, my other food dishes have not been my best efforts. Put another way, I am glad I didn’t have company bellying up to the old dining room table.
The day after the tasty chicken meal I channeled Annie over at Forest Street Kitchen and came up with a meal based on the leftovers (or what we call fondly in my home, leftyovers). Annie comes up with weekly menus for her household and these menus include clever and, I am sure, tasty ways to use leftovers. I actually got pretty excited about coming up with the idea to use the leftyover chicken to make some chicken enchiladas. Ummmmm. My excitement started to fizzle right around the time that I started rolling up the corn tortillas and they started splitting. Well actually, earlier in the process I wondered if the curse was still in place when I realized that I had forgotten to put corn tortillas on the grosh (aka grocery) list and had to beg the SO to go back out into the pouring rain and high winds to retrieve a package of the flat round discs of corn. All to disappointing avail. The chicken enchiladas were a 4 on a 10 point scale of tastiness and a 1 on a 5 point scale of comfort.
Not to be deterred, the next morning I decided to make some banana pumpkin bread. I mean how comforting does that sound? Warm pumpkin-y bread fresh from the oven. Yum. Not. Although the inserted toothpick came out clean as a whistle the bread was bread on one side of the loaf and mushy dough on the other. After managing to get the now smushed up loaf back into the bread pan and baking for a while longer, the bread ended up being anything but comforting. Drat.
Today I am cooking a tried and true dish, red sauce with mushrooms, diced tomatoes, onions, garlic, black olives, basil, oregano, black pepper and a few red chili flakes. I simmer it down to a rich flavorful thick mixture and serve over spagetti noodles. So far, so good. The aromas have filled the Attic and the taste proves richer with each test. I am hoping with this meal, any lingering curse that might ever have been residing anywhere in or near me will disperse. as in leave. as in no more.
oh my. At least I think that’s how that little diddy goes from some Broadway show or maybe it came from the Wizard of Oz. In my case this week it’s the muni bus and food that has me chanting of curses and witches and cravings, oh my! Let me ask you this, have you ever had a curse put on you by a woman dressed in business attire and big brown sunglasses? and if you have had this particular pleasure, did you feel unsettled and off kilter for approximately 48 hours?
In the past almost two years of being a frequent BART and muni bus rider, I have had numerous interesting experiences with John and Jane Q Public. And now I can add having a curse put, or would that be placed, on me. I can honestly say that this is an experience that I could have lived an entire lifetime without and not missed, at all. I will also say that whether or not one believes in such things, curses and a human being’s ability to place said curse, it is disquieting to be the curse-ee.
For the next day or so, I found myself questioning each little bobble or blip that I encountered. Stuff like, my necklace breaking, forgetting to pay for BART parking and ensuing ticket, a leaky coffee cup, inability to concentrate – you know, the everyday kind of minutia that doesn’t usually require dissection.
Today, 48+ hours on this side of the curse, I can say that my perhaps cursed psyche has returned to some semblance of its usual uncursed status, meaning I am not sure what exactly but I do know that I feel less off kilter than day before yesterday. As I do with clients, I asked myself can you identify what you did to help return to center? Yes. I followed my cravings, my food cravings that is. I walked into my Attic kitchen, took out my slow cooker, sent the SO to the grosh (aka grocery store), and before you could say of curses and witches and cravings, oh my! a hundred times, the Attic was filled with the aromas of a yummy comforting chicken meal.
On deck today for the cravings chant are chicken enchiladas which I am hoping will dispell any remaining curse-like cooties that might still be hanging on.
Hurry up
and wait
then
run ahead and
hurry
some more.
with my permission
I’ll rage this one out.
Meanwhile,
please allow me to up
your hurry.
@junemoon 2008
My heart’s on my sleeve.
Well then put it away commands a
well-intended friend.
I cannot
is my retort.
You mean you will
not.
I mean that my pockets
are full from good
intentions such as yours.
so the heart ~ my heart,
will remain where it bloody well wants to.
@junemoon 2008
Holly Morris quote ~
When I haven’t been suffering, I have been very happy.
junemoon’s mental meanderings ~
What is this suffering in which we engage?
Does suffering serve as our Guide to spiritual faith?
and
Is happiness preferable over suffering?
So this weekend I decided to treat myself to a day (which turned into more than a day but that’s another post) to just be, which translated into current grad school language, means to not work on my dissertation. Excitement reigned at this concept and I chose as my just be-ing treat, a trip to the local used bookstore with a sidetrip to the local library in search of some new just-for-fun reading material. Don’t get me wrong. I do not routinely or even un-routinely deprive myself of reading for personal pleasure. But I still get all jazzed up at the prospect of acquiring never-before-read-by-me words in book form.
At the library, I found Out of the Frying Pan by Gillian Clark which touted itself to be a chef’s memoir of hot kitchens, single motherhood, and the family meal. Score. I love memoirs. I was a single mother. I share being of color (the author is African American). and I love to read cooking adventures, cookbooks, and other food related writings. If I were to grade this read on an elementary school A – F scale, I would give it a C. Overall average effort but could have been so much more.
Two potential reading gems unearthed themselves at the bookstore ~ Alice Hoffman’s newest work, Skylight Confessions and Adventure Divas by Holly Morris. As it turns out, I have previously purchased and read Hoffman’s newest publication. A headscratcher. Not so much the book but the part that I did not remember that I had read it within the past 9 months. Go figure. Disappointing though to spend the money needlessly as well as to not have a brand new Hoffman book to savor. Have I mentioned that I love Alice Hoffman’s imagination? I do.
Anywho. Adventure Divas, Searching the Globe for Women who Are Changing the World, definitely caught my eye and adventure seeking (vicariously through others) nature. But first I found myself doing what I always do with books like these, checking to see if the author is a White privileged-looking (instant judgment called for) woman. Secondly, checking to see how this WW writes of her worldly adventures ~ from what social context, is she going about culturally appropriating what belongs to others, and is she aware of her privilege. Finally, I was sucked into the purchase by the book jacket ~ I loved the color combination of the scroll-like lime green framing and the bright fuschia pink bootlaces (I guess you’ll have to see it for yourself to get the full picture). So far, and I’m 2/3’s of the way through, I am enjoying the read. Which in my world is a good thing.
On deck for in-the-near-future reads are Richard Fowler’s The Echo Maker, Clifford Chase’s Winkie (an adventure story in which a mild-mannered teddy bear wills himself to life and winds up on the wrong side of America’s War on Terror), and Conde Nast Traveler’s Book of Unforgettable Journeys, Great Writers on Great Places (a holiday gift from my sister).
But for now, I am thinking of a poet Morris has introduced me to, Carilda Oliver Labra. There are two stanzas of a poem Declaration of Love which Labra wrote in response to her country’s political landscape in 1962 (the Cuban Missile Crisis), that are running around in my head ~
I know that war is probable
especially today
because a red geranium has blossomed open.
Please don’t point your weapons
at the sky:
the sparrows are terrorized,
and it’s springtime,
it’s raining,
the meadows are ruminating.
Please, you’ll melt the moon, only night-light of the poor.
~ Carilda Oliver Labra
Since I am not a blogging wizard and actually only hold the most elementary how-to-blog knowledge, I cannot figure out how to make another blog site stop appropriating my posts. It seems that the site http://identitygang.com/ takes my posts that contain the tag of identity so that when my post that contains that tag shows up on a Google search, the searcher is taken to the idenitygang’s website instead of mine. I also can’t tell if there are other tag words that would do the same – take folks to the other site versus mine. I cannot find anywhere on their site a means to remove my posts or in any other way communicate with “them,” the faceless blogging thieves.
I am currently on the identity train in my thoughts and blogging but do not want my words stolen and put on another site. For one thing, I am trying to build a relationship with other Korean adoptees as well as connections with other folks in general with my blogging and this appropriation by another site is not helping toward that goal. Plus, it just seems wrong to take someone’s stuff and post it on your blog without permission. Don’t get me wrong, this other site is not saying they wrote my post and once you get to their site and find my post you can then see it’s junemoon’s work. However, I just want my stuff to come up under my blog’s name on a Google search. Is that too much to ask? The answer for the moment is, yes.
Since I have not had a lot of extra time the past few days to try and figure out a solution to this dilemma, I have simply stopped posting until I could become blog savvy enough to steal-proof my work. But since it appears that this savviness is not going to take place anytime soon, I have decided to just take my chances and continue blogging. Maybe if I just stop using the identity tag…
Over at Forest Street Kitchen, imagineannie, recently wrote about a dinner party for four and who she would invite. I have played that game before and agree with her that my invite list changes from time to time, depending on my mood, current interests, and energy level.
Today, if I could sit at a table with four folks of my choosing and engage in lively conversation while sharing delicious food, I would invite my first mom, my first father, my former beloved dog companion (and yes, she would have a place setting at the table not under it), and I would reserve the fourth plate and chair for a sibling from my first family in case any such person exists/ed.
So it looks like that today I would forego witty political debate or scholarly repertoire in favor of a search for meaningful dialogue between and among hearts and family. As a Korean adoptee who has spent years searching for my original family, the thought of such a sit down dinner is a longed for desire. I can guarantee you the communion would be worth the wait. This dinner fantasy is, after all, of my making and as such I declare that all invitees would arrive dressed in their fancy clothes (and fur as applicable) eager to share their lives and hearts. There would be no need for translators (from English to Korean or Korean to English or from Canine to Human) as we would all be granted the ability to speak and to understand a Universal language.
What shall I serve. what shall I wear. will my myriad of questions be answered. will the answers satisfy my hunger.
I did not
just go
for
your jugular.
Did I?
No indeed
I did not.
Starkly absent,
blood
spurts.
none.
not even a bloodygush.
Evidence
zilch.
I rest my case.
Innocent
until wrongly accused,
again.
@junemoon 2008
