Sunday, November 26, 2017

Stuffed Mushrooms

I used to really hate mushrooms.  They are fungi.  The texture used to bother me, and I did not appreciate the flavor.  Tastes change.

Those white button mushrooms are tasty, in their own mild, earthy manner.  I like them a lot, but then you add dressing--you know that savory bread stuff that everyone is supposed to eat on thanksgiving--and that is delicious.  It struck me as a hobbity sort of snack; one would just need a lot of them. 

So, mushrooms stuffed with stuffing, extra cayenne optional, is a good appetizer to try.  While you are at it, try mushrooms stuffed with hummus, or with feta and balsamic vinegar. 

Do you have any stuffed mushroom suggestions?

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Religion and Relationship


It’s not about religion, it’s about a relationship.” Have you seen that saying? Or maybe you have heard it; or both. I have heard it many times, and lately I pass this posted up on a church billboard. My first response, mental, but it IS also about what we BELIEVE, therefore, yes, it is “about religion” too. I may be reacting a bit, but I am a bit skeptical of anti-religious claims. Religion is hugely important. What we actually believe affects what we do, what we say. It would help ourselves and likely the people around us if we were more clear about what we believe and why.

So, what do you believe? Why do you believe it? Seriously, what stands at the core of your belief?
It is not that I came up with this question on my own. Some years back, my father asked his children this very question, challenging us to write it out. What do you simply accept, what is the undergirding, the foundation stones on which you rest everything else?


I started with, “God exists.”
I think I may have written about a page on just that, mostly copying scriptures. I did not continue writing out my beliefs, but that exercise in faith, reason, and belief had an impact on me. I realize that whether or not I fulfill my purpose in being, or even just understand it, God is God. He is and He is Good. I may never understand this world, but I am confident in that. Descartes began with, “I think, therefore I am,” and reasoned to the existence of a God outside himself. I am grateful for his reasoning, but must begin with God. He is our author.
I am a bit part in this play called life. I recognize that ultimately I hope to experience it as a traditional comedy—a story that ends well, has a happy conclusion. I recognize that along the way will be losses. I am not in control. I do get to choose how I act, though, and if I am sensitive to the Great Author’s promptings, maybe I will do the right things and say the right words at the right time. I am often slow. I am like the child who, after five rehearsals still does not even remember when it is her turn to step on the stage. How is it that God is still patient with me? I do not even know that, but I trust myself to his goodness and mercy because I believe.
This is my relationship with God. He calls. He opens my ears and mind and heart. I listen. He loves. I must love in return. “Must?” you might complain, but yes, “must” is the word. I do not understand how I could not love God. My earliest thoughts of him are connected to his death for me and because my sins. My earliest remembrance of him is connected to the Communion. “Why can I not eat and drink?” My mother explained what the bread and grape juice meant, that Jesus had died because of our sins to make us whole; that he rose again from the dead and wants to live in us so that we could be complete, we could inherit eternal life. I believed. Jesus loved me, enough to die for my sake. How could I not love him? I had to respond somehow, so I accepted his invitation to join him.  I would become his disciple, his daughter. When I turn to some sin that would separate me from God, he calls me by name.  When I would despair of ever "getting it right" he shows me one step and then another; one thing at a time, he teaches me.  It may take me three years to "get it", but he still continues to work with me. How can I not love him?
Is “it about relationship”? Yes, and it is also about religion. What I believe about God affects my relationship with God. What I believe affects what I say and do. I know a lot of what I believe.
Do you know what you believe? Do you know why?

Friday, July 21, 2017

Miso Soup

Joshua wanted to have Japanese food for his birthday, and I have always liked miso soup, therefor I had to look up a good recipe and try my hand at really making some.  I have previously played around with miso in soup.
I found this helpful site and went to work.  We have miso paste. We did not have the tofu I was hoping for, nor did we have dashi.  On the other hand, we did have a bag of cabbage and Mama had just gotten some miso with "dashi extract" (bonito flavorings).  So, this would have to work...I was hopeful.
Papa was going to the store and I asked if he could pick up mushrooms, or dry shitakis on the off-chance the local Kroger might have them.  The store had fresh shitakis so that is what we got.

I poured 12 cups of water into the heavy pot and set it to boil while I pulled out the cabbage.  The cabbage was that bag of coleslaw mix with mostly green cabbage, a little purple, and a little bit of carrot all thinly chopped.
I noticed a bag of chopped onion and dropped a handful into the heating water.  It came to a boil.  The heat was turned down to medium low. 
I dropped in three big handfuls of the cabbage mixture and waited around 15-20 minutes.  It was bright and lovely.
Next came the carton of shitakis, dumped in minus one or two that appeared not so good as the rest.
After a stir, I turned off the heat and began stirring the miso with dashi in, one big soup spoon at a time, approximately how the lady in the video does--she mixed the paste in the ladle before adding it to the rest of the pot.
I think I put in around six spoonfuls or so.  I tasted it it and added a little more.

It tasted good.  It is best fresh and hot or warm.  I ate some with an egg for breakfast the next day.  I did not like the mushrooms cold, but the broth and cabbage were still good cold.  I warmed it after tasting the cold mushroom and enjoyed the soup.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Part of a family...

Here is the short story.  (As in, when I started writing back last August, I began to write what would have to end up as a book, before I got to the point.)
We got to go to the Cannon-Butler Family Reunion last August because from my mother's side of the family we are related.
Now this was exciting for me, because I had not met these cousins of ours.  I had met Tony and Sheila (Sheila is the blood related one), but not The Sisters, my mother's first cousins, nor any of the others of this side of the family I had only found out about after my family moved to Tennessee.  I hadn't known my grandfather on my mother's side, and I had not known his side of the family.  It turns out, they are black.  So, I, pale and blue eyed, have a great grandfather who was known as "an upstanding negro of the community."
I have always, at least as far as I remember, been interested in knowing about my family history, and when we were first in contact with these knew-found relations, Cousin Kennetta sent us information about the family history.  I was especially eager to meet her, because I am grateful for her picture albums and genealogy papers.
So we went to Massanutten to the family reunion.  As we were getting to the building on the resort where we were to stay, I noticed a black family coming out of a building nearby.  It occurred to me, "What if they were part of the family?"  As I smiled, it struck me, "Isn't that the way to look at people?"  That person, you know, the one on the street corner with missing teeth, might be related to you--IS related to you.  So is that one, you know, the stranger in front of you, taking too long to unload her shopping cart.  That one over there, you know the one that sits over there in the congregation always looking perfectly done up--that one too.
Anyway....a bit more closely related than that one, are the cousins we met.  Oh my word, it was so exciting!  I spent most of the time with "the Sisters" which was delightful.  Cousin Kennetta told us stories and showed the albums and picture board.  Cousin Donald, who organized the event, was agreeable to take Joshua around where they went.  Some went to the water park, we ate meals together, played games--it was so wonderful. 
It warmed me so much, one time when we were sitting around eating (I actually think Peggy was doing something by the sink, cleaning or preparing food) but Naomi was mentioned, she being absent, and Cousin Janie just exclaimed, "I love that girl!"  It still makes me smile, almost a year later, recalling that.
Towards the end, I enjoyed taking a walk with Buttons (one of the Sisters) and Tomika and Elizabeth.  We talked a bit, the weather was lovely, and we found a shortcut back that was probably not supposed to be used.  It was chained off at the closer end.
Adventure.  Family.  You cannot ask for a better way to spend a week of summer.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Toothbrushes and Homes

Have you experienced life-changing hospitality? Hospitality that accepted you into a space that became home because someone said “Make yourself at home!” and proceeded to do all the work to make that possible? A toothbrush is one of those things that every traveler knows to bring with them if they may end up staying somewhere other than home. If you can go somewhere and not worry about whether or not you brought a toothbrush, you’re probably at home or plan to be home later that day. Maybe that's why the toothbrush is such a big deal in relationships... if you feel comfortable leaving your toothbrush at your SO's place, you know things are getting serious.
There's a whole drama that led me to the point when a toothbrush did me in, but that's a different story which I will briefly reference. Enter stage left: me, without transportation, trying to pick up as many shifts as I could at my job one town east of where I live. Some of these shifts meant that I had to work past the last bus route. Usually it wasn't a big deal. My guy usually had my back. I'd either stay with him or he would give me a ride to the closest Metrolink station. Or he wouldn't and I'd be stuck in town with my pride and my backpack, making terrible decisions. And then we'd break up and my support in this town would dissolve. (Something to note, if your support system is one person, fix that) It would be 7 pm on a Tuesday, and I'd be working up the nerve to ask the store manager if she could give me a ride. She had a few times before, but that was an hour of driving for her. I didn’t feel right asking her for that every week. It seemed like too much.
That evening, as we were closing the store together, she ended up asking me if I needed a ride before I was okay enough to ask her. I answered hesitantly... “yeah... if you are able, I would appreciate it…” She answered quickly, "It's no problem, honey! I don't mind driving you home!" After a few minutes of thought, she added, "What would you say to sleeping over at my house? I have a couch you can sleep on. I am sure I can get some pajamies for you to wear. I open tomorrow, so there won't be any problems getting you to work on time. We can work out the rest. What do you think?" I immediately began to break down this idea in my head. I ran through what it would cost for me to spend the night. Food, space, a little extra weight in her car… but I wouldn’t be eating up an hour of her life that she usually spent at home prepping for the next day. Sure, it might be an inconvenience, but in this case I could at least try to pay her back by doing the dishes or laundry or both. It didn't take long for me to answer, "Yeah, I think that would work."
"Alriiight!" she responded enthusiastically, "You'll get to meet my brother-in-law Roy. He's a trip. The house is a wreck. I’m sorry about that, but shit happens, right? We’ll get some food going and pour a couple cocktails when we get there. I am ready to kick back after today."
"Sounds good! I'm used to a mess. It doesn't bother me. I'm just thankful you're giving me a place to stay!"
"Oh sweetie, It's okay. I’m happy to have you." And it was okay... I don’t remember what else we talked about on our way to her house. I was a little apprehensive entering her space. We got out there, and I was struck with the beauty of her old farm house. It was like all the old houses I had visited when I was younger. Duke, their chocolate lab mix, met us at the door. He was excited to see us. The mess was a familiar mess. Random odds and ends piled onto the kitchen table, laundry in baskets in the hallway. We settled in and she poured us a cocktail- rum and diet cherry coke. We sat for a while and relaxed, talking about everything: the store, our families, town gossip. Some of it went over my head, but it was good to share that time just listening. I don't remember what we had for supper that night. Chances are, it was something leftover or thrown together at the last minute.
The entire time, I still felt a little off... It was homey enough, but it was someone else's home. I felt like an odd piece of furniture that you kinda want, but you're not sure where it's supposed to fit into the scheme of your home. I've felt like that a lot of places, so it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. As we were getting ready for bed, Sue pulled out a pillow and some blankets and some old pajamas. They were falling off of me, but I made them work. She called out from the bathroom, "Hey, I've got you a toothbrush in here. I've put it in a baggie so that you can leave it here with our toothbrushes. There's a towel right here in the bathroom and a washcloth in the basket here. You can use my shampoo and bodywash when you take a shower in the morning. Let me know if you need anything."
She planned to keep doing this. She gave me a toothbrush to keep with theirs. We hadn’t discussed me coming over in the future yet. This was a convenient thing for tonight, but she had already started thinking about next week… any week in the future. That night, I brushed my teeth in her bathroom... I don't always brush my teeth. It's something I always hated doing as a kid, and I don't enjoy it much as an adult. With as chaotic as my life had been, I hadn't gotten the chance to brush my teeth regularly. But here I was... Any time I was here, I would be able to do this basic routine that had ceased to be basic for me. As I laid down that night, I felt strange. It was incredibly peaceful out here. I'm not a country girl by any means, but something about this contrast to my life captured my attention. Duke wandered over, sniffed my face, and plopped himself in front of the couch by my head. I had just been adopted, and things were going to be okay.
I woke up early and refreshed. Well, as refreshed as I could after having several cocktails and staying up close to midnight. I am a lightweight for real. The living room was chilly. The door had been propped open all night since we had been experiencing warmer weather. After a while, I got up and showered. I ate breakfast and brushed my teeth. I had wondered about a lot of things the previous night before nodding off to sleep. This family didn’t know much about me. About my relationship with people in town. But they decided to take me into their home and give me a place to rest. I hadn’t experienced this kind of generosity in a long time. I ended up washing dishes that night, not because it was expected of me but because I had to do them for my own sense of self.
When we got to the store that morning, we took a look at the schedule. I was working every Tuesday evening for a while. "How about you plan on staying at my house when you work late. Does that sound good?" I agreed. I mean, heck, I already had a toothbrush there.

*brought to you by toothbrush induced reflection aka I stayed at my Mascoutah Parents’ house last night.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Found in the Irish Times

14 Irish phrases most people won’t understand abroad 
Handy seanfhocail to pass comment without anyone knowing what you mean

It is often said that Irish people are more inclined to use the first language when they travel than in Ireland.
Why is this one might ask? Why do they feel freer to speak Irish abroad than they might do at home?  Perhaps it is because they know they will not be judged by their peers or those around them. Perhaps they feel the need to be set apart as Irish. Or perhaps, it gives them the opportunity to pass comment without being understood. Of course it might be all, some, or none of the above.
Whatever the reason, Irish is a living language that can be used in any situation. The following is a list of handy seanfhocail you might use, with suggestions for when you might use them. Chances are those around you will not understand what you are saying.
And as the old saying goes: Beatha teanga í a labhairt (the life of a language is to speak it).

  Is lia gach othar i ndiaidh a leighis (every patient is a surgeon after he is cured). Listening to a punter on the tube talking loudly about his morning after cure.

  Ar mhaithe leis féin a bhíonn an cat ag crónán (the cat purrs only for its own benefit). On hearing a colleague talking loudly about his latest success.

  Déan mórán agus can beagán (do a lot and say little). Advice for the above.

  Ní dhíolann dearmad fiacha (just because you’ve forgotten a debt, it doesn’t mean you no longer owe it). When someone “forgets” it is their turn to buy the next round.

  Siúlach scéalach (chatty traveller). When someone next to you volunteers story after story after story.

  Sceitheann fíon fírinne (in vino veritas). To be used at the staff Christmas party.

  Tógfaidh dath dubh ach ní thógfaidh dubh dath (a garment can be dyed black but a black cloth cannot be dyed any other colour). It is easier to defame someone than to restore their reputation. To be used the day after the Christmas party (see above).

  Bíonn caora dhubh ar an tréad is gile (even the brightest flock has a black sheep). There is always one! To be used at kids birthday parties.

  Cuir síoda ar ghabhar is gabhar fós é (put silk on a goat, it will still be a goat). Friday night fashion.

  Tarraingíonn scéal scéal eile (one story always leads to another). A good motto for journalists.

  Is minic bréag ar aonach (there are many lies at the fair). To be used in the presence of salesmen everywhere.

  Má chailleann tú uair ar maidin beidh tú á tóraíocht i rith an lae (if you lose an hour in the morning you’ll be looking for it all day). Obey the alarm clock!

  Is ait an mac an saol (life is strange). When you hear Irish being spoken in a far-flung land.

  Is binn béal ina thost (silence is golden). What you say to someone when you realise they are speaking ill of you in Irish.

  Source

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Hey fam, what's up? Here's a reminder for you to read in six months to a year that I exist in some shape or form up here in Illinois. Do you want to know what has not changed one bit in the couple of years I have spent living up here? I still loath waking up. It's my least favorite part of the day. It's the most painful part of my day (unless I've chowed down on some good Thai curry the previous day, but that's a different story).  In those 20 minutes to 2 hours I spend in between sleep and wakefulness, I become a creative monster dreaming up ridiculous schemes to avoid fully waking up, or at least dream up a very different sort of life. I usually look at the clock on my phone anywhere from 5-20 times before pulling myself - internally kicking and screaming, sometimes actually crying - out of bed with just enough time to throw on clothes, grab some sort of food substance, and literally run out the door. I spend the 40 minute commute to work becoming human, arrive, chat with boss man, make breakfast, and start my daily workflow.

I want to believe that there is a better way to experience the time between waking up and being at work. I'm trying to reimagine my life to make that a productive time, a time where I focus my energy for the day so that peak productivity isn't a thing that only happens in the fifteen minutes before I take lunch. Doing things in the early morning seems like it would be a good thing... I'll let you know if I develop a real plan to master my mornings.

Peace!