Down the road, quite a way to the south of where I live, a corner Mart has sat on this location since at least when Jay Leno took over the Tonight Show. I planned to take a photo of the sign and send it to him, and regret I never did. It has not changed, nor its façade nor the sign.
Take a closer look and write a story.
Once January 1st moved to Tuesday, I launched myself into the month. I see many blog posts warming up with their favorite soups, memories of them, and some well-grounded history. I am a huge soup enthusiast and have been spending time at the table thumbing through oodles of cookbooks, reading narratives, and fishing through handwritten recipes from my mother and grandmothers. I cannot believe how many recipes I have found stuck in cookbooks with former good intentions of knowing exactly where they are when I need them. Boy, have I been fooled?
In doing so, this action put me to clean all my kitchen cabinets where spices, bottles of vinegar, various infused olive oils, coffees, and teas are stashed. Oops, how did that can of Goof Off get here? Neat as a pin now. It makes me ruminate over the flavors to use together, to stir in, to sprinkle over, and slowly merry into a happy mouth.
Reading through this New Year’s blogs, most ended their year with holiday traditions and opened the new year with thoughts, reflections, and winter. Beans stride onto the stage. Sinu from Venice (https://sinufogarizzu.substack.com/) opens with Pasta e Fasioi, The Classic Venetian Soup for Deep Winter, and shares fresh and dry Lamon beans in soups while Ruth gives us a simple (but sumptuous) soup, a Lentil with leeks to start a cold year on a warm note. https://ruthtalksfood.substack.com/
Beans are full of protein, and fiber, both good for the heart, and sometimes they, well, you know. Many years ago, a cousin called my mom to ask if she knew a way of how to keep beans from creating gas. She of course said, “Why yes.” Lestoil replied, “Really?” Mom told him to stop by next time in town and she would give him what he needed. He stopped by that very afternoon, and she handed him a wooden spoon in which the handle had been carefully split and pulled apart in a V shape with small rungs glued in like a ladder. The note attached read, ‘Leave wooden spoon in a pot of beans while cooking, and eventually all the gaseous elements will climb out before serving.” Mom watched her nephew walk down the long sidewalk to his truck and every little bit he would throw his head back and laugh out loud. (My husband’s uncle made a few dozen of these for gifts many, many years ago and each one did the trick.)
Since winter is upon us in most areas, and yes, here in Tucson we started off the week at 30 degrees Monday morning and snow on the surrounding mountains. I spent half the day on Saturday covering my plants with freeze cloth and reattaching on Sunday because of the wind gusts up to 40 mph. The backyard looks like a slumber party gone askew and we have at least five more nights this week of freezing temperatures, then of course, we will go soft again for a spell.
Meantime, being under the influence of beans, over the weekend I fished around and dug out ingredients on hand and created a Peruano Frijoles y Caña del Jamón (yellow beans and ham shanks). Thanks to the excellent bread bakers called Indomitus, http://indomitusbread.com/. Matt and Dana baked the perfect bread to make the meal sing like mariachis.
Weekend Kitchen Counter Fixins
1 ½ lb Peruano or yellow beans, soak over night then drain and rinse
3 med size ham shanks
1 dark beer and additional low sodium chicken broth to cover ingredients in crock pot
Diced ½ red onion, 3 celery stalks, 1 carrot
1 Bay leaf
Roast 1 green chili, remove seeds and veins, dice or use a small can diced green chilies
Render ½ lb jalapeno bacon or any other kind, drain and dice, but not too small
3 to 4 tomatillos and two Romas, or any type of tomato in your area or use 1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
Put ham shanks in crock pot, beans, beer, broth, bay leaf, bacon and all diced veggies. Heat up on 350, then lower as beans begin to tender. Seasonings can be many things of your favorites. I do not add salt due to the salt in ham. I used cumin, chili powder, Riley’s No Salt Seasoning, fresh ground black pepper. I do not measure, but add lightly, taste as beans cook, and then adjust as flavors merry.
Thank you for beginning the new year with us. If you have a favorite bean soup recipe to share and a possible story of its heritage, please email me and I would love to post it. Happy warm winter eating!
Yes, we are headed into 2024. My husband and I stayed up New Year’s Eve to welcome it in. On New York time, that is. That means we actually stayed up until ten o’ clock our time to see the ball drop, Frank Sinatra sing “New York, New York” and watch people kiss at the stroke of midnight as if their lips were super glued together, their huge cardboard sunglasses in the way.
Forty-five minutes longer awake than usual? It was a landmark. We have our own ritual and time clock, watching two one-hour shows of our favorite series right after the news. We also eat dinner somewhere in that time frame. We then look at each other at 9:15 P.M. and say, “Well, time for bed.” Television is turned off, our dog Rusty is let outside one more time to pee, rushing inside after to get his treat—exactly two dog biscuits. We get ready for bed, hop under the covers with chattering teeth (we turn the furnace low at night) and grab our books to read before falling asleep. He shuts his book and switches off his lamp sooner than I do. There’s a downside to this. He snores. In all pitches and phrases. I continue reading, trying to ignore him. But, if the volume becomes too loud, I pull sideways on his side of the covers. I don’t really want to awaken him, but it seems just the right amount for him to stir and stop, at least until the next round. Then I pull them again.
Certain rituals are okay, but I have never been one to write down any New Year’s resolutions. The ones such as: I’m going to quit smoking right after I finish the two cartons I have, I’m going on a diet sometime in January, February, or March; I’m joining a gym right after I lose some weight; I’m going to be a better friend, except to so-and-so; I’m not going to use my credit card so much unless I need that dress; and so on…
Making resolutions is way too involved and consuming. I talk myself out of it. What might happen if I couldn’t remember them? What if I was so committed to one, completing it early very possibly, then I’d have to create another one? It could all become so very discouraging. I’ve decided to remember with warmth and relief, the same ones I made years ago and choose to forget. It’s more relative to avoid all resolutions until I come up with a really good one – a real zinger. Until then, I’m going to have a cigarette, make a cheesecake, ignore the gym idea, stay mad at so-and-so, and instead of a dress, buy a pair of boots on sale or not with my Visa card. Then, practice my one and only resolution of going to bed and tugging on my husband’s covers until his snoring ceases. I will resolute to practice that every night.
Whether you write fiction or non-fiction, your life provides the material to write. If you even have a small desire to write – read! Read in all genres. It enriches your writing.
You don’t have to show anyone what you have written. Remember, “perfect” writers don’t exist. Writing exercises will help you play with words along with no criticism of your writing. Here is an exercise: Write a stream of consciousness. Write it in longhand, not computer. Set a blank page in front of you and write whatever comes to your brain. Don’t worry if it is disjointed. Just grab that pen or pencil and let words flow on paper.
Snowfall, deep, soft, sedateness of silence,
crispness that smarted the eyes and nose.
Snow drowned footfalls, shadows of indentations.
Early, late, or in between, children watch from
lighted windows, a warm glow stuffed into
mittens and boots. What creature will be the
first to disturb the safety inside a snow globe?
A speck in the width of winter.
Until next year. Thank you.
I want to write this blog today acknowledging three persons I care about. They are spending this Christmas season in very, very difficult situations. When those I love so deeply are struggling with life in this world, I lie awake at night wondering why? It’s the universal question. Of course, there are no answers, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting one. I think about how I might fix it for them? I try, creating different scenarios in my head. I once heard the term “fix-it fidgeter” and have to say that term pretty much applies to me. I don’t think those who know me would disagree. At times, we fixers can be irritating to others. You notice I say, “At times?” At least I hope it’s not every instance. However, I’ve gained wisdom these many years. The best I can do is love that special someone and make sure they know how precious they are to me.
So, I must accept I just cannot create a solution for these women who fill my heart with their love every day. We know each other well, have “shopped ‘til we dropped” together, laughed and cried, shared our secrets and traveled to so many wonderful places, ousting the one who snores to another bedroom. There are so many personal definitions of love and ours runs as true and deep as a canyon river.
Their paths and journey are different and yet, the same in so many ways. Especially so during this Christmas and even though the celebration is dimmed, they remain brave and loving. Even so, I believe the song, Joy to the World would mean more if all three were celebrating Christmas this year, unburdened. I am sure I’m not the only one who shares these thoughts and longing that all will be well with their family and friends. So I say, may these three loved ones experience a kind of peace in knowing there are others watching and loving them. To end, I think I would like to change Judy Blume’s book title, Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret to “Are you there, God? It’s me…Jackie.” Praying.
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? (include a sound and the verb ‘scratch’)
A widower is a fan of opera. He never misses a performance when in town. Carmen remains his favorite. The crowd begins to clap and rises on their feet as Carmen stands center stage. The widower is in the front row, center. He can almost smell her perfume and sees her breasts rise and fall as she starts to curtsey, to bow, the part in her thick curly hair when suddenly…
She answers the ring of the doorbell. Two men in uniforms, their patches on the blue jumpsuits read, International Zoo Keepers. One hands her paperwork and simply says, “We have a delivery for you.” She steps outside and sees…
You wake up and are very thirsty. You reach for the lamp, fumble around, and turn it on. This is not your lamp. These are not your pajamas. This is not your bedroom. You draw a blank when the doorknob begins to turn, the bedroom door slowly opens and…
As a child in the Midwest, I related the Cardinal specifically to winter, and I still do although I live in sunny Arizona. In the stark white of winter, the Cardinal stands out as a radiant jewel and when our world turned white, the Cardinal was winter’s heartbeat. That lush bright red splash among the barren trees, sitting upon a fence post, or grazing the landscape line between fields and blue sky brought a cold winter day and its brittle stillness into an awakening gift.
Today out my window, the air is clear, the sky is a pale soft blue with a smattering of thin wisps of clouds. It is December here in our desert and currently, our streets, Air B&Bs, and too many ‘lofty’ golf courses are filled with winter visitors from distant locations. The bright red spot that I take notice of is the Red Holiday Calibrachoa. I agree, it doesn’t look much like a bird, but it has the lush bright red of a Cardinal which catches my eye.
I have a hand-carved Cardinal that I bring out each winter to sit by my coffee pot that was a gift from a friend who visited Illinois. The Cardinal is the state bird, therefore the St. Louis Cardinal ball club adopted this name in 1900. My father was their fan throughout his lifetime. One of my cousins Gail, who still resides in the small community of Perry in Pike County where I grew up, recently sent me this picture she took from inside her home. Doesn’t this bird look glorious in his representation, endurance, and bringing joy to a winter day?
I stumbled across a poem which paints a picture of this contrast and the warmth the bird brings to cold days.
Snow blankets the ground, pure and white,
yet a Cardinals vibrant might,
breaks the monotony, a fiery dot,
bringing warmth, to the cold we’ve got.
Against the icy canvas so vast,
its silhouette, a contrast so vast.
A beacon in the frigid air,
hope emerges, from deep despair.
For in the midst of winter’s chill,
the Cardinal sings, with sheer will.
A reminder that even in strife,
there’s a spark, a zest for life.
~anonymous
Cheers to your bright spot on a winter’s day.
A few days ago, I was putting ornaments on our tree. (Once adults, I had relinquished those belonging to each of our three children). Once finished, I stepped back, gazed at the tree and wondered why there were so few? Certain more were hidden in one of the many boxes stored in our garage for Christmas decorations, I headed there. Searching box after box like a mad woman, tossing them everywhere, I came up empty. Despondent, I went back into the house. My husband was engrossed in a football feed on YouTube and it took a fog horn to get his attention. No, he had no idea where they were located. Frustrated, I stared at the tree once more. I solved the dilemma. This year’s tree was new. It was taller and much fatter than our previous one, loaded with more lights. No wonder it looked as if I had fewer ornaments!
I have to say, if I’d lost certain ones, I would have been crushed. Ones like the three below.
Christmas 1987: My sister cross-stitched an ornament for my parents and one for me and each of my three siblings. It was a reminder of our weekend together for Christmas. Living a doable close distance to each other, we all gathered and celebrated at her family’s home in Scottsbluff, Nebraska. Our children were young and emitted giggles and laughter the entire time. They spent the weekend writing a play about the Christmas story, performing it for the adults our last day together. Written in the eyes of children, it was a delight. We fixed an abundant Mexican meal for our dinner. We didn’t know then it would be the one and only time our entire family gathered for Christmas. My brother and family moved to Colorado, my oldest sister eventually to California, and my youngest sister and her family went back home near the farm and where our parents lived. My husband and I spent one year in Colorado and following, took jobs in Minnesota. We just weren’t able to coordinate the entire family with our children to celebrate together as we did 36 years ago.
Carmel otter: Minnesota was a shock, even colder than Nebraska. The first year there, during Halloween, we received 31 inches of snow that stayed on the ground through April. It was a common occurrence and we purchased wool coats, hats, and mittens. The cold was grueling, so my husband and I spent years annually going to Carmel, California for five days either in January or February. A credit card came in handy then, but we never regretted spending the money. We needed the reprieve. Every morning, we strolled the beach, the sound of crashing waves our companion. We looked at shells, felt the sand beneath our bare feet and shared our dreams. Some came true, some didn’t. We laughed as the otters followed us, swimming and playing. I’ve loved them ever since. I bought the ornament early on. I’m glad I did. Time speeds by and the otter takes me back to one of many times we loved being together.
Sheeba’s ornament: A close friend gave us a Christmas ornament following her death in November 2018. A German shepherd, she was almost twelve. Her spirit was gentle, her heart big and we miss her still, five years later. When she was five, she “blew” both knees and determined to not euthanize her, my husband searched until he located a small, independent store run by a mother and her daughter near the mountains. The mother invented and sewed harnesses out of a sturdy material that supported a dog’s back legs. Not knowing if it would help Sheeba, we drove there and had her measured and fitted for one. We took her home and for a long time, my husband walked her slowly – a few feet, half a block, two blocks and more until she could run and play again. That $200 halter gave us seven more years with her.
Read a paragraph from any book. Your story must start with the first word of the paragraph and your story must end with the last word of the paragraph. The subject? Your favorite Christmas movie.