Good Food + Good Friends = Great Times

So I'm in this little book group (there's only half a dozen of us), and we meet every month or so to discuss the latest book we may or may not have finished. We all do our best, but certainly don't expect to have all finished the book given our busy lives. It's totally acceptable though to drop a spoiler or two though during our meetings. :)

This month we read "My Life in France", a memoir by Julia Child. I was certainly aware of who Julia was, but didn't consider myself a fan until the movie "Julie and Julia" came out recently.  It very much peaked my curiosity about her, and her love of cooking and her general "joie de vivre" were truly contagious as portrayed by Meryl Streep. I felt compelled to find out of this was an accurate representation of who she was, and after reading the book, I'm beyond convinced that she was quite the amazing and memorable woman.

We all tend to latch onto a theme from the books we read and try to carry this into the food we share at the groups. French cooking was no easy task to take on for this gathering, but we all did our best to prepare a relevant dish. My choice was a cake called "Reine de Saba" - a chocolate rum cake with almonds.

I'm no baker, but I tackled the recipe and feel that it was quite the success - as you can see it wasn't a fancy cake, but it at least resembled what it was intended to be. And the reviews were overwhelmingly positive - a "restaurant quality effort" that resembled a "yummy truffle". Not bad!

All in all I'll likely try a few more French recipes and as Julia says "make no apologies" for however they may turn out. Tant pis!

Burning Up

What is it about staying home sick, as an adult, that makes it so difficult to give into? I'm not sure that was even a properly formed sentence, but hey, I'm sick. I think I'm actually feverish, but I don't own a thermometer to confirm that.

So what I did give into was working from home, with the caveat that I'd take a nice nap at some point. So this morning, I dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, got into the chilly car (yikes, when did it start getting dewy on the windshield in the morning?) and drove to work to get some stuff to bring home.

I knew it was a bad decision when I blew threw a stop sign and cut off one of the VP's on the way to the office. And then couldn't figure out how to open the door to the building to leave.

When I got home though, instead of reclining and pumping myself full of Advils, I got right onto my laptop and started thinking of all the things I could try to get done today that I wouldn't have to wait to do tomorrow. Then my boss called with a question. Then before I knew it, I'd worked through the whole morning, and not really in a productive sense, but in a pseudo feverish, not quite right sense.

Moral of the story - when you're sick you're sick, buy a thermometer and a few aspirins, and stay off the computer. And now I'm going to go follow doctor's orders.

Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint. ~Mark Twain

Who am I to Blog?

So ever since I started this little ol' blog I feel like the word comes up daily. You never know when an otherwise normal conversation will take a turn to a blog that someone is reading. Just today my co-worker and I were discussing a sewing project I've just completed, and she was excited to tell me of all the great sewing blogs she's been reading - despite the fact that she doesn't sew!

That's one of the reasons I'd been gun-shy about this whole universe of creative expression. Most people, it seems, blog with a clear objective, with purpose. They are experts of some trade, or have a passion about something - antiques, photography, music, maybe just themselves. I'm a jack of all trades, master of none as they say. I can tell you a little about a lot, but not a lot about very little.

So I just want to be clear. This blog is about nothing - I really don't plan to go to deep into my personal life, guide anyone in a new hobby or occupation. But I'll try to be honest, and maybe once in awhile it will be a little entertaining.


And I guess I could throw you a bone with a good quote or something, and maybe a picture here or there.

Today, let's end with a quote:

"We are all cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out." ~ Ray Bradbury

Rockin It

First of all - I will just say I can't believe it's been 8 years since 9/11. I also can't believe how long the war has been dragging on. And for many reasons, including that which makes us remember today, I am appreciative for what I have - basic freedoms, my health, family and friends.

Ok, now for less somber material. Just thought I'd share one of my favorite photos from living here in Portland. These cairns were set up, as if magically, near Back Cove. No one has ever claimed it as their work (as far as I know). I took these pictures last fall, but they've remained, in some form or another, in this spot over the past year.

Not sure why, but while I took this picture and others, I almost felt as though these structures were observing ME - as though they possessed a spirit to them. I felt almost somber being among them, like they were stoic soldiers overlooking the shore. Ok, a little dramatic, but you get the gist.


And, as a bonus, here's my own cairn that I left on Peaks Island this summer - to commemorate a beautiful day.

Wouldn't it be something so symbolic to build a cairn for every person who was killed, hurt or impacted by 9/11? What a monument that would be.

You've Got the Perfect Nose

It's funny - I never liked my nose. It's always seemed to be a little too bulbous. It was cute when I was five I guess, before it decided to try to outpace the size of my mouth. So you can imagine my delight when I was told by someone today that I have the perfect nose for a piercing.

I actually did have my nose pierced, many years ago now (ick) when I was trying so hard to be cool and alternative. I came home from college to visit my parents for Easter during my freshman year - my mother calmly observed the small stud in my right nostril and said, "Ok, well promise me you'll at least take it out for church."

I think it lasted about a year. I remember the backing for the stud used to fall out at night sometimes while I was sleeping and get lodged in my nasal passage. Freaky. And forget about it when you have a cold - not a fun experience blowing your nose.

But I did like the idea of how different I was for having it. Back then I didn't know too many girls who were sporting face piercings. Now you actually see middle-aged women lining up for these and their first tattoo. I guess we're all lightening up a bit?

So maybe it's time to reconsider the beauty of my nose - even if it looks better with more holes in it.

Blessed Innocence

I've always been a bit of a late bloomer. I think it's partly due to being raised Catholic and having a boatload of "Catholic guilt" instilled in me at a young age - which I still carry with me today. Yes, it kind of helps to be Catholic to understand.

For example, when most kids were sneaking out to go to the latest party in some random field across town, I was probably home reading a book. Or watching a PG-rated movie. Or secretly listening to my Guns 'n' Roses tape that I knew my parents would likely confiscate. Ok, I exaggerate my lameness (possibly), but I wasn't thinking twice about bending the rules to get in some underage drinking or even worse...gasp...sex!

No, I saved all that until freshman year of college.

But consequently, this means my formative years were blessedly innocent. I was raised by two loving parents who wanted to keep me safe and happy, despite some rules instilled on me that I felt were unfair, unreasonable, or just downright ridiculous. They did the best they could to preserve my quality of life, and by the way, my innocence.

So when I was watching a Dateline special yesterday about a young woman in Pakistan who is fighting for women's rights after being a victim of rape, I was amazed. Her story was shocking, humbling, and unbelievably inspirational. Her name is Mukhtar Mai, and she is, as NYT columnist Nick Kristo describes, "an illiterate woman who used compensation money after being gang-raped to build a small school in which she herself enrolled."

The quality of life of a typical Pakistani woman pales in comparison to that of American girls. We are positively coddled compared to what many of these young women experience. Mukhtar is now trying to make a difference and provide a new standard of living, a new future for the young girls growing up in this country where they have long been given cruel and unfair treatment. I realized watching this news segment how lucky I was, how taken for granted my quality of life and experience has been.

I hope her story perseveres, grows, envelopes the world and brings a sea change for generations of Pakistani girls to come.

More information on Mukhtar Mai and how we can all choose to help.