Month: January 2011

My Junior League Can Beat Up Yours

Alright, let’s get this straight from the start. Junior Leagues in every city, town and village contribute in immeasurable ways to heating up the community’s quality of life. They nurture volunteerism, raise buckets of money, and cheerfully give it away in order to  tackle the great Underlying Causes. 

Probably Wikipedia uses them to explain Do-Gooder. 

But let’s face it, what they really are good at, what they really do better than any eager church group, sly corporation, or even Italian dynasty is  — cookbooks. Yes, indeed, you know what I’m talking about. 

In 1984, the Junior League of Kansas City, Missouri produced Beyond Parsley. It is a stunning cookbook not only because of the recipes but also the full-page food photos like this one, appropriately enough called Sugar Cookie Cut-Outs.  

Skip the intro, it’s a cookbook not a novel. 

Even with over 200 Junior League cookbooks in print, in my opinion, BP wins the top spatula. It will make you a much better cook that you thought possible. Filet of Sole Parmesan, Artichoke Sausage Soup and White Chili are some of my repeats.   

I bought a used copy for a gift at Half Price Books the other day and I checked and copies are available at Amazon. Oh — alright, the national Junior League web site  has other JL cookbooks for sale including, a Celebration Cookbook: A Treasury of the 400 Most Requested Recipes from Junior League Cookbooks (warning–no photos).

Don’t even think about sending me a thank you note.

Purrfect

We are going south for a while. Downstairs, Sig is negotiating with Sue, a new person to take care of our cats while we are gone. I can hear her, “No, that is way too much money.” Sig interrupts, “No, I tell you what…” then his voice trails off in a characteristic mumble.

The count is 4 inside, 1 out.

They are: Mollie and Lucy, our cat states women, Robert Parker, real name – Max, who abandoned his home up the street last summer and Rex, originally a small winsome stray, who after recovering from an intestinal parasite resembles a brick house. Zach lives on the front porch where he spends the bulk of his days on the glider with a heating pad.

Two of the cats have health issues. One needs an injection of fluids twice a week to prop up a kidney, another needs a pill a day which must be popped down her throat as she is not a pill-eater.  

Sue works part-time at our vet and owns 4 cats herself. She knows all of the cats, she can do the fluid adjustment herself rather than drag Mollie to the office, and she has given Lucy pills before. She is in a band and goes off occasionally for gigs. When she does she lines up a series of cat-sitters for herself. She is experienced, mature, and personable.

(OMG, she is now playing the piano downstairs and she is very good.) I wonder what she will want for Christmas next year?

Cat Bag

If you have trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep when you’ve waken too early, try this: a humidifier, a cup of hot cocoa, a copy of the New Yorker and an eye bag.  

The humidifier will rhythmically exhale puffs of mist making the air moist to help you breathe more comfortably. The milk has tryptophan in it — and if you believe, it is a sleep inducer. Writers for the New Yorker are not plainspoken; they dazzle readers with lengthy diatribes, acrobatic syntax and boatloads of obscure literary devices.  Frankly, the NY is just a little bit numbing. 

Then, and here is the secret — get an eye bag.

It’s a weighted  fabric pouch that sits across both eyes and completely blocks any light with the firmness of a loving touch. Here is mine. My friend, Joyce, gave it to me. She got it from 1000 Villages, a fair trade store that carries products from under-developed countries.

PS: Don’t get me wrong, I will never give up my New Yorker. I love to read it, I love to carry it, I love to pass it on.

I won’t ever give my up cat eye bag.

What’s In?

I have to admit, I am not 100 percent with this project. It is squatting squarely on the drawing board if you know what I mean.  Right now I’m calling it the What’s In Your Drawers Series. This particular one is Junk Drawer: Before, 1/1.

Even though I am hypnotically drawn by the compelling juxtaposition of the mundane with the more mundane, I do worry that the message is somewhat cluttered.

MLK Day

NPR played Martin Luther King’s 1963 “I have a dream” speech this morning while I was in the car, and I drove around a little longer than planned to hear it to the end. It is always a thrill to hear not only for the beauty of it but for the sheer inspiration.  

Though an ordinary man, King took on an extraordinary challenge. It was no less than to lead the entire nation in becoming the America that it was capable of being. (Makes me think, I could ratchet up on “do a good turn daily.”) And he said, “This is no time…, to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.” 

He was all in. No excuses. Right now.

It was Martin Luther King who also said, “If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”

And my personal favorite, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

He is simply a one man boot camp for good, doncha think?

Take a Break

I just googled the best homemade cocoa recipe ever. It’s from All Recipes.com and according to their stats 22,800 people have saved it; 476 wrote reviews and on a scale of 1 to 5 it’s rated 4.6. Pretty good credentials, I’d say. FYI — most of the reviewers cut back the sugar to a scant 1/2 cup so unless you really like Sweet, you might want to do the same.

If you want to up the ante, you could wade in and make your own marshmallows. Seems there are quite a few people out there who get a kick out of that project. Is it any surprise that Martha weighs in with one of her own recipes? 

Okay, either do that or get some marshmallow fluff when you’re at the store getting the half and half and drop a scoop on top. (Or whipped cream would do nicely.) It will look every bit as good as Martha’s and you’ll have time to get into a good book.

Here’s a sleeper (to me) I picked up at Costco if you are interested in actually using your camera: Visual Poetry by Chris Orwig.  The book has great examples, practical tips, lots of resources, a companion web site and most of all — the inspiration and encouragement that can only be a gift from an experienced mentor who loves his craft. 

For instance, in the chapter on portraits, Orwig writes, “The eyes need to be tack sharp.” He explains that the near eye, the one closest to the viewer, is the eye the viewer looks at first. If that eye is out of focus the viewer has to visually scramble to reach over to the other eye. While the photo may technically look fine, it won’t feel right. 

Got your cocoa, optional marshmallows, book — might as well turn on some music. Here’s a blast of happy music from 1969.

Kindness of a Stranger

I have been a member of a health club for nearly 20 years, and a fairly regular user at that. It’s not that I love exercise so much; I do like the fact that a better mood is usually 30 minutes away on an elliptical machine.

The other day, I grabbed a magazine, punched in a 1/2 hour program and slipped into auto-pilot. I was in the cool-down mode when a woman on the treadmill next to me said, “Whew, how long did it take you to get so good on that machine? I tried it. It’s waay too hard.” 

She was a bright-eyed, middle-aged blonde woman dressed in what looked like a brand new work-out outfit.  I thought to myself, Good? Hard? What are you talking about middle-aged blonde woman? 

I answered as modestly as I could, “Oh, I have been coming to a club for quite a long time — you just kinda get used to it.”

“Well, I just had a real hard time with pedaling.”

Ahhh, I thought. She doesn’t have a clue about this machine. And she’d had probably tried one where the resistance was pre-set for somebody like Lance Armstrong.

For a second, I toyed with keeping the secret and letting her continue to believe I was some kind of fierce athlete. But I didn’t. I told her about the pre-sets and encouraged her to try it out again and told her that she’d be easily whizzing along. But as I left, she demurred, “I still don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you.” 

I walked out of the club with a great mood and an imaginary swagger — just like Lance Armstrong.

What I Found Out

When my life threatens to revolt from peaceful kingdom to anarchy I believe in acting decisively. I restore equilibrium by taking complete control over little things such as lining up just-washed hair brushes and combs on a towel to dry, fluffing up a bedspread in the dryer and getting rid of the coffee stain in my favorite mug.

I might find a screwdriver to tighten the loose knobs on a dresser or glue the pieces of a broken picture frame. I put a clean rug on the bathroom floor and dig out the better towels in the back of the linen closet. I might sweep the front porch and shake out the doormat. 

I have no interest in big-ticket tasks like washing windows, planning a dinner party or building a bookshelf. I am never tempted to clean out my basement, purge my desk, or organize a pantry.

I am only interested in creating the biggest list of completed tasks I can in the shortest time possible. It’s then I find I have restored my confidence reservoir and I can once again reclaim my status as master of my universe.

Thanks You Tube

There is just so much that is good about watching this. I simply can’t get pass the man in the striped polo shirt. I have it bookmarked as an antidote to gloom and doom. 

Public Service Announcement

The title of the article was a little provocative, “Just how old are your spices?” It went on to chirp about organizing for the new year, crowing a bit about the satisfaction of clearing out and setting a bar for a clutter-free, healthier Tomorrow.

Okay, okay — spices. It’s true they take up an inordinate amount of space in an extraordinary tiny kitchen. I hate to toss out spices when I know the next recipe I want to make will want a garlic and herb seasoning blend. BUT, I thought — what good the spice if too tired to contribute to the dish?

I took 8 of my spice bottles at random out of the cupboard. I chose all McCormick brand so that I could use their online date de-coder to find out exactly the age of the products I was sheltering.  

Read it and weep. 

Two of the spices, parsley and lemon peel, do not have the right identifying marks on the bottle to code their age. (Actually the parsley looks pretty green and the lemon peel looks pretty tired, so I decide thumbs up and thumbs down.) Celery seed is a bright spot. It’s  vibrant, ready to mix it up with any recipe til March, 2011.

Minced Onions announce their prime was 2 years ago. Ever since 2002, Basil has been a bust.  Oh my, I thought — not good for creating the perfect meals. 

But just when I thought, whew — that was an exercise, I typed in the code for Garlic and Herb Seasoning, then Sage Leaves and finally Pumpkin Pie Spice.

Garlic and Herb is 13 years old; blends only last 1 -2 years top. Sage Leaves clocked in at 21 years making it legal for them to get a drink but way over the estimated lifespan of 1-3 years. And Pumpkin Pie Spice, well , it is a good thing that I haven’t made a pumpkin pie in a while cause the spice is 27 years old!

Yeah, this was fun.